With a smile on his pale face.
“Now yield thee,” cried Lars Porsena,
“Now yield thee to our grace.”
‘Round turned he, as not deigning
Those craven ranks to see,
Nought spake he to Lars Porsena,
To Sextus naught spake he;
But he saw on Palatinus
The white porch of his home;
And he spake to the noble river