I<\/p>\n
LARS Porsena of Clusium
\nBy the Nine Gods he swore
\nThat the great house of Tarquin
\nShould suffer wrong no more.
\nBy the Nine Gods he swore it,
\nAnd named a trysting day,
\nAnd bade his messengers ride forth,
\nEast and west and south and north,
\nTo summon his array.<\/p>\n
II<\/p>\n
East and west and south and north
\nThe messengers ride fast,
\nAnd tower and town and cottage
\nHave heard the trumpet\u2019s blast.
\nShame on the false Etruscan
\nWho lingers in his home,
\nWhen Porsena of Clusium
\nIs on the march for Rome.<\/p>\n
III<\/p>\n
The horsemen and the footmen
\nAre pouring in amain
\nFrom many a stately market-place;
\nFrom many a fruitful plain;
\nFrom many a lonely hamlet,
\nWhich, hid by beech and pine,
\nLike an eagle\u2019s nest, hangs on the crest
\nOf purple Apennine;<\/p>\n
IV<\/p>\n
From lordly Volaterr\u00e6,
\nWhere scowls the far-famed hold
\nPiled by the hands of giants
\nFor godlike kings of old;
\nFrom seagirt Populonia,
\nWhose sentinels descry
\nSardinia\u2019s snowy mountain-tops
\nFringing the southern sky;<\/p>\n
V<\/p>\n
From the proud mart of Pis\u00e6,
\nQueen of the western waves,
\nWhere ride Massilia\u2019s triremes
\nHeavy with fair-haired slaves;
\nFrom where sweet Clanis wanders
\nThrough corn and vines and flowers;
\nFrom where Cortona lifts to heaven
\nHer diadem of towers.<\/p>\n
VI<\/p>\n
Tall are the oaks whose acorns
\nDrop in dark Auser\u2019s rill;
\nFat are the stags that champ the boughs
\nOf the Ciminian hill;
\nBeyond all streams Clitumnus
\nIs to the herdsman dear;
\nBest of all pools the fowler loves
\nThe great Volsinian mere.<\/p>\n
VII<\/p>\n
But now no stroke of woodman
\nIs heard by Auser\u2019s rill;
\nNo hunter tracks the stag\u2019s green path
\nUp the Ciminian hill;
\nUnwatched along Clitumnus
\nGrazes the milk-white steer;
\nUnharmed the water fowl may dip
\nIn the Volsinian mere.<\/p>\n
VIII<\/p>\n
The harvests of Arretium,
\nThis year, old men shall reap;
\nThis year, young boys in Umbro
\nShall plunge the struggling sheep;
\nAnd in the vats of Luna,
\nThis year, the must shall foam
\nRound the white feet of laughing girls
\nWhose sires have marched to Rome.<\/p>\n
IX<\/p>\n
There be thirty chosen prophets,
\nThe wisest of the land,
\nWho always by Lars Porsena
\nBoth morn and evening stand:
\nEvening and morn the Thirty
\nHave turned the verse o\u2019er,
\nTraced from the right on linen white
\nBy mighty seers of yore.<\/p>\n
X<\/p>\n
And with one voice the Thirty
\nHave their glad answer given:
\n\u2018Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena;
\nGo forth, beloved of Heaven;
\nGo, and return in glory
\nTo Clusium\u2019s royal dome;
\nAnd hang round Nurscia\u2019s altars
\nThe golden shields of Rome.\u2019<\/p>\n
XI<\/p>\n
And now hath every city
\nSent up her tale of men;
\nThe foot are fourscore thousand,
\nThe horse are thousands ten.
\nBefore the gates of Sutrium
\nIs met the great array.
\nA proud man was Lars Porsena
\nUpon the trysting day.<\/p>\n
XII<\/p>\n
For all the Etruscan armies
\nWere ranged beneath his eye,
\nAnd many a banished Roman,
\nAnd many a stout ally;
\nAnd with a mighty following
\nTo join the muster came
\nThe Tusculan Mamilius,
\nPrince of the Latian name.<\/p>\n
XIII<\/p>\n
But by the yellow Tiber
\nWas tumult and affright:
\nFrom all the spacious champaign
\nTo Rome men took their flight.
\nA mile around the city,
\nThe throng stopped up the ways;
\nA fearful sight it was to see
\nThrough two long nights and days.<\/p>\n
XIV<\/p>\n
For aged folks on crutches,
\nAnd women great with child,
\nAnd mothers sobbing over babes
\nThat clung to them and smiled,
\nAnd sick men borne in litters
\nHigh on the necks of slaves,
\nAnd troops of sun-burned husbandmen
\nWith reaping-hooks and staves,<\/p>\n
XV<\/p>\n
And droves of mules and asses
\nLaden with skins of wine,
\nAnd endless flocks of goats and sheep,
\nAnd endless herds of kine,
\nAnd endless trains of waggons
\nThat creaked beneath the weight
\nOf corn-sacks and of household goods,
\nChoked every roaring gate.<\/p>\n
XVI<\/p>\n
Now, from the rock Tarpeian,
\nCould the wan burghers spy
\nThe line of blazing villages
\nRed in the midnight sky.
\nThe Fathers of the City,
\nThey sat all night and day,
\nFor every hour some horseman came
\nWith tidings of dismay.<\/p>\n
XVII<\/p>\n
To eastward and to westward
\nHave spread the Tuscan bands;
\nNor house, nor fence, nor dovecote
\nIn Crustumerium stands.
\nVerbenna down to Ostia
\nHath wasted all the plain;
\nAstur hath stormed Janiculum,
\nAnd the stout guards are slain.<\/p>\n
XVIII<\/p>\n
I wis, in all the Senate,
\nThere was no heart so bold,
\nBut sore it ached, and fast it beat,
\nWhen that ill news was told.
\nForthwith up rose the Consul,
\nUp rose the Fathers all;
\nIn haste they girded up their gowns,
\nAnd hied them to the wall.<\/p>\n
XIX<\/p>\n
They held a council standing,
\nBefore the River-Gate;
\nShort time was there, ye well may guess,
\nFor musing or debate.
\nOut spake the Consul roundly:
\n\u2018The bridge must straight go down;
\nFor, since Janiculum is lost,
\nNought else can save the town.\u2019<\/p>\n
XX<\/p>\n
Just then a scout came flying,
\nAll wild with haste and fear:
\n\u2018To arms! to arms! Sir Consul:
\nLars Porsena is here.\u2019
\nOn the lows hills to westward
\nThe Consul fixed his eye,
\nAnd saw the swarthy storm of dust
\nRise fast along the sky.<\/p>\n
XXI<\/p>\n
And nearer fast and nearer
\nDoth the red whirlwind come;
\nAnd louder still and still more loud,
\nFrom underneath that rolling cloud,
\nIs heard the trumpet\u2019s war-note proud,
\nThe trampling, and the hum.
\nAnd plainly and more plainly
\nNow through the gloom appears,
\nFar to left and far to right,
\nIn broken gleams of dark-blue light,
\nThe long array of helmets bright,
\nThe long array of spears.<\/p>\n
XXII<\/p>\n
And plainly and more plainly,
\nAbove that glimmering line,
\nNow might ye see the banners
\nOf twelve fair cities shine;
\nBut the banner of proud Clusium
\nWas highest of them all,
\nThe terror of the Umbrian,
\nThe terror of the Gaul.<\/p>\n
XXIII<\/p>\n
And plainly and more plainly
\nNow might the burghers know,
\nBy port and vest, by horse and crest,
\nEach warlike Lucumo.
\nThere Cilnius of Arretium
\nOn his fleet roan was seen;
\nAnd Astur of the four-fold shield,
\nGirt with the brand none else may wield,
\nTolumnius with the belt of gold,
\nAnd dark Verbenna from the hold
\nBy reedy Thrasymene.<\/p>\n
XXIV<\/p>\n
Fast by the royal standard,
\nO\u2019erlooking all the war,
\nLars Porsena of Clusium
\nSat in his ivory car.
\nBy the right wheel rode Mamilius,
\nPrince of the Latian name;
\nAnd by the left false Sextus,
\nThat wrought the deed of shame.<\/p>\n
XXV<\/p>\n
But when the face of Sextus
\nWas seen among the foes,
\nA yell that rent the firmament
\nFrom all the town arose.
\nOn the house-tops was no woman
\nBut spat towards him and hissed,
\nNo child but screamed out curses,
\nAnd shook its little fist.<\/p>\n
XXVI<\/p>\n
But the Consul\u2019s brow was sad,
\nAnd the Consul\u2019s speech was low,
\nAnd darkly looked he at the wall,
\nAnd darkly at the foe.
\n\u2018Their van will be upon us
\nBefore the bridge goes down;
\nAnd if they once may win the bridge,
\nWhat hope to save the town?\u2019<\/p>\n
XXVII<\/p>\n
Then out spake brave Horatius,
\nThe Captain of the gate:
\n\u2018To every man upon this earth
\nDeath cometh soon or late.
\nAnd how can man die better
\nThan facing fearful odds,
\nFor the ashes of his fathers,
\nAnd the temples of his Gods,<\/p>\n
XXVIII<\/p>\n
\u2018And for the tender mother
\nWho dandled him to rest,
\nAnd for the wife who nurses
\nHis baby at her breast,
\nAnd for the holy maidens
\nWho feed the eternal flame,
\nTo save them from false Sextus
\nThat wrought the deed of shame?<\/p>\n
XXIX<\/p>\n
\u2018Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,
\nWith all the speed ye may;
\nI, with two more to help me,
\nWill hold the foe in play.
\nIn yon strait path a thousand
\nMay well be stopped by three.
\nNow who will stand on either hand,
\nAnd keep the bridge with me?\u2019<\/p>\n
XXX<\/p>\n
Then out spake Spurius Lartius;
\nA Ramnian proud was he:
\n\u2018Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,
\nAnd keep the bridge with thee.\u2019
\nAnd out spake strong Herminius;
\nOf Titian blood was he:
\n\u2018I will abide on thy left side,
\nAnd keep the bridge with thee.\u2019<\/p>\n
XXXI<\/p>\n
\u2018Horatius,\u2019 quoth the Consul,
\n\u2018As thou sayest, so let it be.\u2019
\nAnd straight against that great array
\nForth went the dauntless Three.
\nFor Romans in Rome\u2019s quarrel
\nSpared neither land nor gold,
\nNor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,
\nIn the brave days of old.<\/p>\n
XXXII<\/p>\n
Then none was for a party;
\nThen all were for the state;
\nThen the great man helped the poor,
\nAnd the poor man loved the great:
\nThen lands were fairly portioned;
\nThen spoils were fairly sold:
\nThe Romans were like brothers
\nIn the brave days of old.<\/p>\n
XXXIII<\/p>\n
Now Roman is to Roman
\nMore hateful than a foe,
\nAnd the Tribunes beard the high,
\nAnd the Fathers grind the low.
\nAs we wax hot in faction,
\nIn battle we wax cold:
\nWherefore men fight not as they fought
\nIn the brave days of old.<\/p>\n
XXXIV<\/p>\n
Now while the Three were tightening
\nTheir harnesses on their backs,
\nThe Consul was the foremost man
\nTo take in hand an axe:
\nAnd Fathers mixed with Commons
\nSeized hatchet, bar, and crow,
\nAnd smote upon the planks above,
\nAnd loosed the props below.<\/p>\n
XXXV<\/p>\n
Meanwhile the Tuscan army,
\nRight glorious to behold,
\nCome flashing back the noonday light,
\nRank behind rank, like surges bright
\nOf a broad sea of gold.
\nFour hundred trumpets sounded
\nA peal of warlike glee,
\nAs that great host, with measured tread,
\nAnd spears advanced, and ensigns spread,
\nRolled slowly towards the bridge\u2019s head,
\nWhere stood the dauntless Three.<\/p>\n
XXXVI<\/p>\n
The Three stood calm and silent,
\nAnd looked upon the foes,
\nAnd a great shout of laughter
\nFrom all the vanguard rose:
\nAnd forth three chiefs came spurring
\nBefore that deep array;
\nTo earth they sprang, their swords they drew,
\nAnd lifted high their shields, and flew
\nTo win the narrow way;<\/p>\n
XXXVII<\/p>\n
Aunus from green Tifernum,
\nLord of the Hill of Vines;
\nAnd Seius, whose eight hundred slaves
\nSicken in Ilva\u2019s mines;
\nAnd Picus, long to Clusium
\nVassal in peace and war,
\nWho led to fight his Umbrian powers
\nFrom that grey crag where, girt with towers,
\nThe fortress of Nequinum lowers
\nO\u2019er the pale waves of Nar.<\/p>\n
XXXVIII<\/p>\n
Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
\nInto the stream beneath;
\nHerminius struck at Seius,
\nAnd clove him to the teeth;
\nAt Picus brave Horatius
\nDarted one fiery thrust;
\nAnd the proud Umbrian\u2019s gilded arms
\nClashed in the bloody dust.<\/p>\n
XXXIX<\/p>\n
Then Ocnus of Falerii
\nRushed on the Roman Three;
\nAnd Lausulus of Urgo,
\nThe rover of the sea;
\nAnd Aruns of Volsinium,
\nWho slew the great wild boar,
\nThe great wild boar that had his den
\nAmidst the reeds of Cosa\u2019s fen,
\nAnd wasted fields, and slaughtered men,
\nAlong Albinia\u2019s shore.<\/p>\n
XL<\/p>\n
Herminius smote down Aruns:
\nLartius laid Ocnus low:
\nRight to the heart of Lausulus
\nHoratius sent a blow.
\n\u2018Lie there,\u2019 he cried, \u2018fell pirate!
\nNo more, aghast and pale,
\nFrom Ostia\u2019s walls the crowd shall mark
\nThe track of thy destroying bark.
\nNo more Campania\u2019s hinds shall fly
\nTo woods and caverns when they spy
\nThy thrice accursed sail.\u2019<\/p>\n
XLI<\/p>\n
But now no sound of laughter
\nWas heard among the foes.
\nA wild and wrathful clamour
\nFrom all the vanguard rose.
\nSix spears\u2019 lengths from the entrance
\nHalted that deep array,
\nAnd for a space no man came forth
\nTo win the narrow way.<\/p>\n
XLII<\/p>\n
But hark! the cry is Astur:
\nAnd lo! the ranks divide;
\nAnd the great Lord of Luna
\nComes with his stately stride.
\nUpon his ample shoulders
\nClangs loud the four-fold shield,
\nAnd in his hand he shakes the brand
\nWhich none but he can wield.<\/p>\n
XLIII<\/p>\n
He smiled on those bold Romans
\nA smile serene and high;
\nHe eyed the flinching Tuscans,
\nAnd scorn was in his eye.
\nQuoth he, \u2018The she-wolf\u2019s litter
\nStand savagely at bay:
\nBut will ye dare to follow,
\nIf Astur clears the way?\u2019<\/p>\n
XLIV<\/p>\n
Then, whirling up his broadsword
\nWith both hands to the heights
\nHe rushed against Horatius,
\nAnd smote with all his might,
\nWith shield and blade Horatius
\nRight deftly turned the blow.
\nThe blow, though turned, came yet too nigh;
\nIt missed his helm, but gashed his thigh:
\nThe Tuscans raised a joyful cry
\nTo see the red blood flow.<\/p>\n
XLV<\/p>\n
He reeled, and on Herminius
\nHe leaned one breathing-space;
\nThen, like a wild cat mad with wounds
\nSprang right at Astur\u2019s face.
\nThrough teeth, and skull, and helmet
\nSo fierce a thrust he sped,
\nThe good sword stood a hand-breadth out
\nBehind the Tuscan\u2019s head.<\/p>\n
XLVI<\/p>\n
And the great Lord of Luna
\nFell at that deadly stroke,
\nAs falls on Mount Alvernus
\nA thunder smitten oak.
\nFar o\u2019er the crashing forest
\nThe giant\u2019s arms lie spread;
\nAnd the pale augurs, muttering low,
\nGaze on the blasted head.<\/p>\n
XLVII<\/p>\n
On Astur\u2019s throat Horatius
\nRight firmly pressed his heel,
\nAnd thrice and four times tugged amain,
\nEre he wrenched out the steel.
\n\u2018And see,\u2019 he cried, \u2018the welcome,
\nFair guests, that waits you here!
\nWhat noble Lucumo comes next
\nTo taste our Roman cheer?\u2019<\/p>\n
XLVIII<\/p>\n
But at his haughty challenge
\nA sullen murmur ran,
\nMingled of wrath, and shame, and dread,
\nAlong that glittering van.
\nThere lacked not men of prowess,
\nNor men of lordly race;
\nFor all Etruria\u2019s noblest
\nWere round the fatal place.<\/p>\n
XLIX<\/p>\n
But all Etruria\u2019s noblest
\nFelt their hearts sink to see
\nOn the earth the bloody corpses,
\nIn the path the dauntless Three:
\nAnd, from the ghastly entrance
\nWhere those bold Romans stood,
\nAll shrank, like boys who unaware,
\nRanging the woods to start a hare,
\nCome to the mouth of the dark lair
\nWhere, growling low, a fierce old bear
\nLies amidst bones and blood.<\/p>\n
L<\/p>\n
Was none who would be foremost
\nTo lead such dire attack:
\nBut those behind cried \u2018Forward!\u2019
\nAnd those before cried \u2018Back!\u2019
\nAnd backward now and forward
\nWavers the deep array;
\nAnd on the tossing sea of steel,
\nTo and fro the standards reel;
\nAnd the victorious trumpet-peal
\nDies fitfully away.<\/p>\n
LI<\/p>\n
Yet one man for one moment
\nStrode out before the croud;
\nWell known was he to all the Three,
\nAnd they gave gim greeting loud.
\n\u2018Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!
\nNow welcome to thy home!
\nWhy dost thou stay, and turn away?
\nHere lies the road to Rome.\u2019<\/p>\n
LII<\/p>\n
Thrice looked he at the city;
\nThrice looked he at the dead;
\nAnd thrice came on in fury,
\nAnd thrice turned back in dread:
\nAnd, white with fear and hatred,
\nScowled at the narrow way
\nWhere, wallowing in a pool of blood,
\nThe bravest Tuscans lay.<\/p>\n
LIII<\/p>\n
But meanwhile axe and lever
\nHave manfully been plied;
\nAnd now the bridge hangs tottering
\nAbove the boiling tide.
\n\u2018Come back, come back, Horatius!\u2019
\nLoud cried the Fathers all.
\n\u2018Back, Lartius! back, Herminius!
\nBack, ere the ruin fall!\u2019<\/p>\n
LIV<\/p>\n
Back darted Spurius Lartius;
\nHerminius darted back:
\nAnd, as they passed, beneath their feet
\nThey felt the timbers crack.
\nBut when they turned their faces,
\nAnd on the farther shore
\nSaw brave Horatius stand alone,
\nThey would have crossed once more.<\/p>\n
LV<\/p>\n
But with a crash like thunder
\nFell every loosened beam,
\nAnd, like a dam, the mighty wreck
\nLay right athwart the stream:
\nAnd a long shout of triumph
\nRose from the walls of Rome,
\nAs to the highest turret-tops
\nWas splashed the yellow foam.<\/p>\n
LVI<\/p>\n
And, like a horse unbroken
\nWhen first he feels the rein,
\nThe furious river struggled hard,
\nAnd tossed his tawny mane,
\nAnd burst the curb and bounded,
\nRejoicing to be free,
\nAnd whirling down, in fierce career,
\nBattlement, and plank, and pier,
\nRushed headlong to the sea.<\/p>\n
LVII<\/p>\n
Alone stood brave Horatius,
\nBut constant still in mind;
\nThrice thirty thousand foes before,
\nAnd the broad flood behind.
\n\u2018Down with him!\u2019 cried false Sextus,
\nWith a smile on his pale face.
\n\u2018Now yield thee,\u2019 cried Lars Porsena,
\n\u2018Now yield thee to our grace!\u2019<\/p>\n
LVIII<\/p>\n
Round turned he, as not deigning
\nThose craven ranks to see;
\nNought spake he to Lars Porsena,
\nTo Sextus nought spake he;
\nBut he saw on Palatins
\nThe white porch of his home;
\nAnd he spake to the noble river
\nThat rolls by the towers of Rome.<\/p>\n
LIX<\/p>\n
\u2018Oh, Tiber! father Tiber!
\nTo whom the Romans pray,
\nA Roman\u2019s life, a Roman\u2019s arms,
\nTake thou in charge this day!\u2019
\nSo he spake, and speaking sheathed
\nThe good sword by his side,
\nAnd with his harness on his back,
\nPlunged headlong in the tide.<\/p>\n
LX<\/p>\n
No sound of joy or sorrow
\nWas heard from either bank;
\nBut friends and foes in dumb surprise,
\nWith parted lips and straining eyes,
\nStood gazing where he sank;
\nAnd when above the surges
\nThey saw his crest appear,
\nAll Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
\nAnd even the ranks of Tuscany
\nCould scarce forbear to cheer.<\/p>\n
LXI<\/p>\n
But fiercely ran the current,
\nSwollen high by months of rain:
\nAnd fast his blood was flowing;
\nAnd he was sore in pain,
\nAnd heavy with his armour,
\nAnd spent with changing blows:
\nAnd oft they thought him sinking,
\nBut still again he rose.<\/p>\n
LXII<\/p>\n
Never, I ween, did swimmer,
\nIn such an evil case,
\nStruggle through such a raging flood
\nSafe to the landing place.
\nBut his limbs were borne up bravely
\nBy the brave heart within,
\nAnd our good father Tiber
\nBare bravely up his chin.<\/p>\n
LXIII<\/p>\n
\u2018Curse on him!\u2019 quoth false Sextus;
\n\u2018Will not the villain drown?
\nBut for this stay, ere close of day
\nWe should have sacked the town!\u2019
\n\u2018Heaven help him!\u2019 quoth Lars Porsena,
\n\u2018And bring him safe to shore;
\nFor such a gallant feat of arms
\nWas never seen before.\u2019<\/p>\n
LXIV<\/p>\n
And now he feels the bottom;
\nNow on dry earth he stands;
\nNow round him throng the Fathers;
\nTo press his gory hands;
\nAnd now, with shouts and clapping,
\nAnd noise of weeping loud,
\nHe enters through the River-Gate,
\nBorne by the joyous crowd.<\/p>\n
LXV<\/p>\n
They gave him of the corn-land,
\nThat was of public right,
\nAs much as two strong oxen
\nCould plough from morn till night;
\nAnd they made a molten image,
\nAnd set it up on high,
\nAnd there it stands unto this day
\nTo witness if I lie.<\/p>\n
LXVI<\/p>\n
It stands in the Comitium,
\nPlain for all folk to see;
\nHoratius in his harness,
\nhalting upon one knee:
\nAnd underneath is written,
\nIn letters all of gold,
\nHow valiantly he kept the bridge
\nIn the brave days of old.<\/p>\n
LXVII<\/p>\n
And still his name sounds stirring
\nUnto the men of Rome,
\nAs the trumpet-blast that cries to them
\nTo charge the Volscian home;
\nAnd wives still pray to Juno
\nFor boys with hearts as bold
\nAs his who kept the bridge so well
\nIn the brave days of old.<\/p>\n
LXVIII<\/p>\n
And in the nights of winter,
\nWhen the cold north winds blow,
\nAnd the long howling of the wolves
\nIs heard amidst the snow;
\nWhen round the lonely cottage
\nRoars loud the tempest\u2019s din,
\nAnd the good logs of Algidus
\nRoar louder yet within;<\/p>\n
LXIX<\/p>\n
When the oldest cask is opened,
\nAnd the largest lamp is lit;
\nWhen the chestnuts glow in the embers,
\nAnd the kid turns on the spit;
\nWhen young and old in circle
\nAround the firebrands close;
\nWhen the girls are weaving baskets,
\nAnd the lads are shaping bows;<\/p>\n
LXX<\/p>\n
When the goodman mends his armour,
\nAnd trims his helmet\u2019s plume;
\nWhen the goodwife\u2019s shuttle merrily
\nGoes flashing through the loom;
\nWith weeping and with laughter
\nStill is the story told,
\nHow well Horatius kept the bridge
\nIn the brave days of old.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I LARS Porsena of Clusium By the Nine Gods he swore That the great house of Tarquin Should suffer wrong no more. By the Nine Gods he swore it, And named a trysting day, And bade his messengers ride forth, East and west and south and north, To summon his array. II East and west […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":28,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-63235","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"featured_image_urls":{},"yoast_head":"\n