Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Matthew Arnold

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by Matthew Arnold


  Dire is this blow for Merope; and I

  Wish’d, truly wish’d, solution to our broil

  Other than by this death: but it hath come!

  I speak no word of boast, but this I say,

  A private loss here founds a nation’s peace.

  POLYPHONTES goes out. 895

  THE CHORUS

  Peace, who tarriest too long; strophe.

  Peace, with Delight in thy train;

  Come, come back to our prayer!

  Then shall the revel again

  Visit our streets, and the sound 900

  Of the harp be heard with the pipe,

  When the flashing torches appear

  In the marriage-train coming on,

  With dancing maidens and boys:

  While the matrons come to the doors, 905

  And the old men rise from their bench,

  When the youths bring home the bride.

  Not decried by my voice antistrophe

  He who restores thee shall be,

  Not unfavour’d by Heaven. 910

  Surely no sinner the man,

  Dread though his acts, to whose hand

  Such a boon to bring hath been given.

  Let her come, fair Peace! let her come!

  But the demons long nourish’d here, 915

  Murder, Discord, and Hate,

  In the Stormy desolate waves

  Of the Thracian Sea let her leave,

  Or the howling outermost Main.

  MEROPE comes forth.

  MEROPE

  A whisper through the palace flies of one 920

  Arriv’d from Tegea with weighty news;

  And I came, thinking to find Areas here.

  Ye have not left this gate, which he must pass:

  Tell me — hath one not come? or, worse mischance,

  Come, but been intercepted by the king? 925

  THE CHORUS

  A messenger, sent from Arcadia here,

  Arriv’d, and of the king had speech but now.

  MEROPE

  Ah me! the wrong expectant got his news.

  THE CHORUS

  The message brought was for the king design’d.

  MEROPE

  How so? was Areas not the messenger? 930

  THE CHORUS

  A younger man, and of a different name.

  MEROPE

  And what Arcadian news had he to tell?

  THE CHORUS

  Learn that from other lips, O Queen, than mine.

  MEROPE

  He kept his tale, then, for the king alone?

  THE CHORUS

  His tale was meeter for that ear than thine. 935

  MEROPE

  Why dost thou falter, and make half reply?

  THE CHORUS

  O thrice unhappy, how I groan thy fate!

  MEROPE

  Thou frightenest and confound’st me by thy words.

  O were but Areas come, all would be well!

  THE CHORUS

  If so, all’s well: for look, the old man speeds 940

  Up from the city tow’rds this gated hill.

  ARCAS comes in.

  MEROPE

  Not with the failing breath and foot of age

  My faithful follower comes. Welcome, old friend!

  ARCAS

  Faithful, not welcome, when my tale is told.

  O that my over-speed and bursting grief 945

  Had on the journey chok’d my labouring breath,

  And lock’d my speech for ever in my breast!

  Yet then another man would bring this news. —

  O honour’d Queen, thy son, my charge, is gone.

  THE CHORUS

  Too suddenly thou tellest such a loss. 950

  Look up, O Queen! look up, O mistress dear!

  Look up, and see thy friends who comfort thee.

  MEROPE

  Ah … Ah … Ah me!

  THE CHORUS

  And I, too, say, ah me!

  ARCAS

  Forgive, forgive the bringer of such news!

  MEROPE

  Better from thine than from an enemy’s tongue. 955

  THE CHORUS

  And yet no enemy did this, O Queen:

  But the wit-baffling will and hand of Heaven.

  ARCAS

  No enemy! and what hast thou, then, heard?

  Swift as I came, hath Falsehood been before?

  THE CHORUS

  A youth arriv’d but now, the son, he said, 960

  Of an Arcadian lord, our prince’s friend,

  Jaded with travel, clad in hunter’s garb.

  He brought report that his own eyes had seen

  The prince, in chase after a swimming stage,

  Swept down a chasm broken in the cliff 965

  Which hangs o’er the Stymphalian Lake, and drown’d.

  ARCAS

  Ah me! with what a foot doth Treason post,

  While Loyalty, with all her speed, is slow!

  Another tale, I trow, thy messenger

  For the King’s private ear reserves, like this 970

  In one thing only, that the prince is dead.

  THE CHORUS

  And how then runs this true and private tale?

  ARCAS

  As much to the King’s wish, more to his shame.

  This young Arcadian noble, guard and mate

  To Aepytus, the king seduc’d with gold, 975

  And had him at the prince’s side in leash,

  Ready to slip on his unconscious prey.

  He on a hunting party three days since,

  Among the forests on Cyllene’s side,

  Perform’d good service for his bloody wage; 980

  The prince, his uncle Laias, whom his ward

  Had in a father’s place, he basely murder’d.

  Take this for true, the other tale for feign’d.

  THE CHORUS

  And this perfidious murder who reveal’d?

  ARCAS

  The faithless murderer’s own, no other tongue. 985

  THE CHORUS

  Did conscience goad him to denounce himself?

  ARCAS

  To Cypselus at Basilis he brought

  This strange unlikely tale, the prince was drown’d.

  THE CHORUS

  But not a word appears of murder here.

  ARCAS

  Examin’d close, he own’d this story false. 990

  Then evidence came — his comrades of the hunt,

  Who saw the prince and Laias last with him,

  Never again in life — next, agents, fee’d

  To ply ‘twixt the Messenian King and him,

  Spoke, and reveal’d, that traffic, and the traitor. 995

  So charg’d, he stood dumb-founder’d: Cypselus,

  On this suspicion, cast him into chains.

  Thence he escap’d — and next I find him here.

  THE CHORUS

  His presence with the King, thou mean’st, implies ——

  ARCAS

  He comes to tell his prompter he hath sped. 1000

  THE CHORUS

  Still he repeats the drowning story here.

  ARCAS

  To thee — that needs no Oedipus to explain.

  THE CHORUS

  Interpret, then; for we, it seems, are dull.

  ARCAS

  Your King desir’d the profit of his death,

  Not the black credit of his murderer. 1005

  That stern word ‘murder’ had too dread a sound

  For the Messenian hearts, who lov’d the prince.

  THE CHORUS

  Suspicion grave I see, but no clear proof.

  MEROPE

  Peace! peace! all’s clear. — The wicked watch and work

  While the good sleep: the workers have the day. 1010

  He who was sent hath sped, and now comes back,

  To chuckle with his sender o’er the game

  Which foolish innocence plays with subtle guilt.

&
nbsp; Ah! now I comprehend the liberal grace

  Of this far-scheming tyrant, and his boon 1015

  Of heirship to his kingdom for my son:

  He had his murderer ready, and the sword

  Lifted, and that unwish’d-for heirship void —

  A tale, meanwhile, forg’d for his subjects’ ears:

  And me, henceforth sole rival with himself 1020

  In their allegiance, me, in my son’s death-hour,

  When all turn’d tow’rds me, me he would have shown

  To my Messenians, dup’d, disarm’d, despis’d,

  The willing sharer of his guilty rule,

  All claim to succour forfeit, to myself 1025

  Hateful, by each Messenian heart abhorr’d. —

  His offers I repelled — but what of that?

  If with no rage, no fire of righteous hate,

  Such as ere now hath spurr’d to fearful deeds

  Weak women with a thousandth part my wrongs, 1030

  But calm, but unresentful, I endur’d

  His offers, coldly heard them, cold repell’d?

  While all this time I bear to linger on

  In this blood-delug’d palace, in whose halls

  Either a vengeful Furry I should stalk, 1035

  Or else not live at all — but here I haunt,

  A pale, unmeaning ghost, powerless to fright

  Or harm, and nurse my longing for my son,

  A helpless one, I know it: — but the Gods

  Have temper’d me e’en thus; and, in some souls, 1040

  Misery, which rouses others, breaks the spring.

  And even now, my son, ah me! my son,

  Fain would I fade away, as I have liv’d,

  Without a cry, a struggle, or a blow,

  All vengeance unattempted, and descend 1045

  To the invisible plains, to roam with thee,

  Fit denizen, the lampless under-world —

  But with what eyes should I encounter there

  My husband, wandering with his stern compeers,

  Amphiaraos, or Mycenae’s king, 1050

  Who led the Greeks to Ilium, Agamemnon,

  Betray’d like him, but, not like him, aveng’d?

  Or with what voice shall I the questions meet

  Of my two elder sons, slain long ago,

  Who sadly ask me, what, if not revenge, 1055

  Kept me, their mother, from their side so long?

  Or how reply to thee, my child, last-born,

  Last-murder’d, who reproachfully wilt say —

  Mother, I well believ’d thou lived’st on

  In the detested palace of thy foe, 1060

  With patience on thy face, death in thy heart,

  Counting, till I grew up, the laggard years,

  That our joint hands might then together pay

  To one unhappy house the debt we owe.

  My death makes my debt void, and doubles thine — 1065

  But down thou fleest here, and leav’st our scourge

  Triumphant, and condemnest all our race

  To lie in gloom for ever unappeas’d.

  What shall I have to answer to such words? —

  No, something must be dar’d; and, great as erst 1070

  Our dastard patience, be our daring now!

  Come, ye swift Furies, who to him ye haunt

  Permit no peace till your behests are done;

  Come Hermes, who dost watch the unjustly kill’d,

  And can’st teach simple ones to plot and feign; 1075

  Come, lightning Passion, that with foot of fire

  Advancest to the middle of a deed

  Almost before ‘tis plann’d; come, glowing hate;

  Come, baneful Mischief, from thy murky Hate;

  Under the dripping black Tartarean cliff 1080

  Which Styx’s awful waters trickle down —

  Inspire this coward heart, this flagging arm!

  How say ye, maidens, do ye know these prayers?

  Are these words Merope’s — is this voice mine?

  Old man, old man, thou had’st my boy in charge, 1085

  And he is lost, and thou hast that to atone.

  Fly, find me on the instant where confer

  The murderer and his impious setter-on:

  And ye, keep faithful silence, friends, and mark

  What one weak woman can achieve alone. 1090

  ARCAS

  O mistress, by the Gods, do nothing rash!

  MEROPE

  Unfaithful servant, dost thou, too, desert me?

  ARCAS

  I go! I go! — yet, Queen, take this one word:

  Attempting deeds beyond thy power to do,

  Thou nothing profitest thy friends, but mak’st 1095

  Our misery more, and thine own ruin sure.

  ARCAS goes out.

  THE CHORUS

  I have heard, O Queen, how a prince, str. 1.

  Agamemnon’s son, in Mycenae,

  Orestes, died but in name,

  Liv’d for the death of his foes. 1100

  MEROPE

  Peace!

  THE CHORUS

  What is it?

  MEROPE

  Alas,

  Thou destroyest me!

  THE CHORUS

  How?

  MEROPE

  Whispering hope of a life

  Which no strange unknown,

  But the faithful servant and guard, 1105

  Whose tears warrant his truth,

  Bears sad witness is lost.

  THE CHORUS

  Wheresoe’er men are, there is grief. ant. 1.

  In a thousand countries, a thousand

  Homes, e’en now is there wail: 1110

  Mothers lamenting their sons.

  MEROPE

  Yes ——

  THE CHORUS

  Thou knowest it?

  MEROPE

  This

  Who lives, witnesses.

  THE CHORUS

  True.

  MEROPE

  But, is it only a fate

  Sure, all-common, to lose 1115

  In a land of friends, by a friend.

  One last, murder-sav’d child?

  THE CHORUS

  Ah me! str. 2.

  MEROPE

  Thou confessest the prize

  In the rushing, thundering, mad, 1120

  Cloud-envelop’d, obscure,

  Unapplauded, unsung

  Race of calamity, mine?

  THE CHORUS

  None can truly claim that

  Mournful pre-eminence, not 1125

  Thou.

  MEROPE

  Fate gives it, ah me!

  THE CHORUS

  Not, above all, in the doubts,

  Double and clashing, that hang ——

  MEROPE

  What then? ant. 2.

  Seems it lighter, my loss, 1130

  If, perhaps, unpierc’d by the sword,

  My child lies in a jagg’d

  Sunless prison of rocks,

  On the black wave borne to and fro?

  THE CHORUS

  Worse, far worse, if his friend, 1135

  If the Arcadian within,

  If ——

  MEROPE (with a start)

  How say’st thou? within?…

  THE CHORUS

  He in the guest-chamber now,

  Faithlessly murder his friend.

  MEROPE

  Ye, too, ye, too, join to betray, then, 1140

  Your Queen!

  THE CHORUS

  What is this?

  MEROPE

  Ye knew,

  O false friends! into what

  Haven the murderer had dropp’d?

  Ye kept silence?

  THE CHORUS

  In fear,

  O lov’d mistress! in fear, 1145

  Dreading thine over-wrought mood,

  What I knew, I conceal’d.

  MEROPE

  Swear by Gods hencefo
rth to obey me!

  THE CHORUS

  Unhappy one, what deed

  Purposes thy despair? 1150

  I promise; but I fear.

  MEROPE

  From the altar, the unveng’d tomb,

  Fetch me the sacrifice-axe! ——

  The CHORUS goes towards the tomb of CRESPHONTES, and their leader brings back the axe.

  O Husband, O cloth’d

  With the grave’s everlasting, 1155

  All-covering darkness! O King,

  Well mourn’d, but ill-aveng’d!

  Approv’st thou thy wife now? ——

  The axe! — who brings it?

  THE CHORUS

  ‘Tis here!

  But thy gesture, thy look, 1160

  Appals me, shakes me with awe.

  MEROPE

  Thrust back now the bolt of that door!

  THE CHORUS

  Alas! alas! —

  Behold the fastenings withdrawn

  Of the guest-chamber door! — 1165

  Ah! I beseech thee — with tears ——

  MEROPE

  Throw the door open!

  THE CHORUS

  ‘Tis done!…

  The door of the house is thrown open: the interior of the guest-chamber is discovered, with AEPYTUS asleep on a couch.

  MEROPE

  He sleeps — sleeps calm. O ye all-seeing Gods!

  Thus peacefully do ye let sinners sleep,

  While troubled innocents toss, and lie awake? 1170

  What sweeter sleep than this could I desire

  For thee, my child, if thou wert yet alive?

  How often have I dream’d of thee like this,

  With thy soil’d hunting-coat, and sandals torn,

  Asleep in the Arcadian glens at noon, 1175

  Thy head droop’d softly, and the golden curls

  Clustering o’er thy white forehead, like a girl’s;

  The short proud lip showing thy race, thy cheeks

  Brown’d with thine open-air, free, hunter’s life.

  Ah me!… 1180

  And where dost thou sleep now, my innocent boy? —

  In some dark fir-tree’s shadow, amid rocks

  Untrodden, on Cyllene’s desolate side;

 

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