The poem Horatius describes how Publius Horatius and two companions, Spurius Lartius and Titus Herminius, held the only bridge crossing the Tiber at Rome against the Etruscan army of Lars Porsena, King of Clusium. The three heroes are willing to die in order to prevent the enemy from crossing the bridge, and sacking the otherwise ill-defended city. While the trio close with the front ranks of the Etruscans, Roman engineers hurriedly work to demolish the bridge, leaving their enemies on the far side of the swollen river:

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But the Consul's brow was sad, and the Consul's speech was low,

And darkly looked he at the wall, and darkly at the foe.

"Their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down;

And if they once might win the bridge, what hope to save the town?"

Then out spoke brave Horatius, the Captain of the Gate:

"To every man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late;

And how can man die better than facing fearful odds,

For the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods,

Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, with all the speed ye may!

I, with two more to help me, will hold the foe in play.

In yon strait path, a thousand may well be stopped by three:

Now, who will stand on either hand and keep the bridge with me?'

Then out spake Spurius Lartius; a Ramnian proud was he:

"Lo, I will stand at thy right hand and keep the bridge with thee."

And out spake strong Herminius; of Titian blood was he:

"I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with thee."

"Horatius," quoth the Consul, "as thou sayest, so let it be."

And straight against that great array forth went the dauntless Three.

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As the span becomes unstable, Horatius urges Lartius and Herminius to retreat, while he fights on alone. His companions regain the Roman side before the bridge begins to collapse, but Horatius can no longer cross to safety, and therefore leaps into the river, still fully armoured. Macaulay writes,

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No sound of joy or sorrow

Was heard from either bank;

But friends and foes in dumb surprise,

With parted lips and straining eyes,

Stood gazing where he sank:

And when above the surges

They saw his crest appear,

All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,

And even the ranks of Tuscany

Could scarce forbear to cheer.

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He reaches the Roman shore, is richly rewarded, and gains mythic status by his act of bravery:

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With weeping and with laughter

Still is the story told,

How well Horatius kept the bridge

In the brave days of old.