'Was none that would be foremost To lead such dire attack; But those behind cried 'Forward!' And those before cried 'Back!' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . However, the supports of the bridge had been destroyed. 'But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied, And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. 'Come back, come back, Horatius!' Loud cried the Fathers all; 'Back, Lartius! Back, Herminius! Back, ere the ruin fall!' 'Back darted Spurius Lartius, Herminius darted back; And as they passed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack; But when they turn'd their faces, And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, They would have cross'd once more. 'But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosen'd beam, And, like a dam, the mighty wreck Lay right athwart the stream; And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret-tops Was splashed the yellow foam.' The one last champion, behind a rampart of dead enemies, remained till the destruction was complete. 'Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind, Thrice thirty thousand foes before And the broad flood behind.' A dart had put out one eye, he was wounded in the thigh, and his work was done. He turned round, and--