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Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Matthew Arnold

Page 36

by Matthew Arnold


  POLYPHONTES

  Hatred and passionate Envy blind thine eyes.

  MEROPE

  O Heaven-abandon’d wretch, that envies thee!

  POLYPHONTES

  Thou hold’st so cheap, then, the Messenian crown? 1790

  MEROPE

  I think on what the future hath in store.

  POLYPHONTES

  To-day I reign: the rest I leave to Fate.

  MEROPE

  For Fate thou wait’st not long; since, in this hour ——

  POLYPHONTES

  What? for so far she hath not prov’d my foe —

  MEROPE

  Fate seals my lips, and drags to ruin thee. 1795

  POLYPHONTES

  Enough! enough! I will no longer hear

  The ill-boding note which frantic Envy sounds

  To affright a fortune which the Gods secure.

  Once more my friendship thou rejectest: well!

  More for this land’s sake grieve I, than mine own. 1800

  I chafe not with thee, that thy hate endures,

  Nor bend myself too low, to make it yield.

  What I have done is done; by my own deed,

  Neither exulting nor asham’d, I stand.

  Why should this heart of mine set mighty store 1805

  By the construction and report of men?

  Not men’s good-word hath made me what I am.

  Alone I master’d power; and alone,

  Since so thou wilt, I will maintain it still.

  POLYPHONTES goes out.

  THE CHORUS

  Did I then waver str. 1. 1810

  (O woman’s judgement!)

  Misled by seeming

  Success of crime?

  And ask, if sometimes

  The Gods, perhaps, allow’d you, 1815

  O lawless daring of the strong,

  O self-will recklessly indulg’d?

  Not time, not lightning, ant. 1.

  Not rain, not thunder,

  Efface the endless 1820

  Decrees of Heaven —

  Make Justice alter,

  Revoke, assuage her sentence,

  Which dooms dread ends to dreadful deeds,

  And violent deaths to violent men. 1825

  But the signal example str. 2.

  Of invariableness of justice

  Our glorious founder

  Hercules gave us,

  Son lov’d of Zeus his father: for he err’d, 1830

  And the strand of Euboea, ant. 2.

  And the promontory of Cenaeum,

  His painful, solemn

  Punishment witness’d,

  Beheld his expiation: for he died. 1835

  O villages of Oeta str. 3.

  With hedges of the wild rose!

  O pastures of the mountain,

  Of short grass, beaded with dew,

  Between the pine-woods and the cliffs! 1840

  O cliffs, left by the eagles,

  On that morn, when the smoke-cloud

  From the oak-built, fiercely-burning pyre,

  Up the precipices of Trachis,

  Drove them screaming from their eyries! 1845

  A willing, a willing sacrifice on that day

  Ye witness’d, ye mountain lawns,

  When the shirt-wrapt, poison-blister’d Hero

  Ascended, with undaunted heart,

  Living, his own funeral-pile, 1850

  And stood, shouting for a fiery torch;

  And the kind, chance-arriv’d Wanderer,

  The inheritor of the bow,

  Coming swiftly through the sad Trachinians,

  Put the torch to the pile: 1855

  That the flame tower’d on high to the Heaven

  Bearing with it, to Olympus,

  To the side of Hebe,

  To immortal delight,

  The labour-releas’d Hero. 1860

  O heritage of Neleus, ant. 3.

  Ill-kept by his infirm heirs!

  O kingdom of Messenê,

  Of rich soil, chosen by craft,

  Possess’d in hatred, lost in blood! 1865

  O town, high Stenyclaros,

  With new walls, which the victors

  From the four-town’d, mountain-shadow’d Doris,

  For their Hercules-issu’d princes

  Built in strength against the vanquish’d! 1870

  Another, another sacrifice on this day

  Ye witness, ye new-built towers!

  When the white-rob’d, garland-crowned Monarch

  Approaches, with undoubting heart,

  Living, his own sacrifice-block, 1875

  And stands, shouting for a slaughterous axe;

  And the stern, Destiny-brought Stranger,

  The inheritor of the realm,

  Coming swiftly through the jocund Dorians,

  Drives the axe to its goal: 1880

  That the blood rushes in streams to the dust;

  Bearing with it, to Erinnys,

  To the Gods of Hades,

  To the dead unaveng’d,

  The fiercely-requir’d Victim. 1885

  Knowing he did it, unknowing pays for it.epode.

  Unknowing, unknowing,

  Thinking aton’d-for

  Deeds unatonable,

  Thinking appeas’d 1890

  Gods unappeasable,

  Lo, the Ill-fated One,

  Standing for harbour,

  Right at the harbour-mouth,

  Strikes, with all sail set, 1895

  Full on the sharp-pointed

  Needle of ruin!

  A MESSENGER comes in.

  MESSENGER

  O honour’d Queen, O faithful followers

  Of your dead master’s line, I bring you news

  To make the gates of this long-mournful house 1900

  Leap, and fly open of themselves for joy!

  noise and shouting heard.

  Hark how the shouting crowds tramp hitherward

  With glad acclaim! Ere they forestall my news,

  Accept it: — Polyphontes is no more.

  MEROPE

  Is my son safe? that question bounds my care. 1905

  MESSENGER

  He is, and by the people hail’d for king.

  MEROPE

  The rest to me is little: yet, since that

  Must from some mouth be heard, relate it thou.

  MESSENGER

  Not little, if thou saw’st what love, what zeal,

  At thy dead husband’s name the people show. 1910

  For when this morning in the public square

  I took my stand, and saw the unarm’d crowds

  Of citizens in holiday attire,

  Women and children intermix’d; and then,

  Group’d around Zeus’s altar, all in arms, 1915

  Serried and grim, the ring of Dorian lords —

  I trembled for our prince and his attempt.

  Silence and expectation held us all:

  Till presently the King came forth, in robe

  Of sacrifice, his guards clearing the way 1920

  Before him — at his side, the prince, thy son,

  Unarm’d and travel-soil’d, just as he was:

  With him conferring the King slowly reach’d

  The altar in the middle of the square,

  Where, by the sacrificing minister, 1925

  The flower-dress’d victim stood, a milk-white bull,

  Swaying from side to side his massy head

  With short impatient lowings: there he stopp’d,

  And seem’d to muse awhile, then rais’d his eyes

  To Heaven, and laid his hand upon the steer, 1930

  And cried — O Zeus, let what blood-guiltiness

  Yet stains our land be by this blood wash’d out,

  And grant henceforth to the Messenians peace!

  That moment, while with upturn’d eyes he pray’d,

  The prince snatch’d from the sacrificer’s hand 1935

  The axe, and on the f
orehead of the King,

  Where twines the chaplet, dealt a mighty blow

  Which fell’d him to the earth, and o’er him stood,

  And shouted — Since by thee defilement came,

  What blood so meet as thine to wash it out? 1940

  What hand to strike thee meet as mine, the hand

  Of Aepytus, thy murder’d master’s son? —

  But, gazing at him from the ground, the King …

  Is it, then, thou? he murmur’d; and with that,

  He bow’d his head, and deeply groan’d, and died. 1945

  Till then we all seem’d stone: but then a cry

  Broke from the Dorian lords: forward they rush’d

  To circle the prince round: when suddenly

  Laias in arms sprang to his nephew’s side,

  Crying — O ye Messenians, will ye leave 1950

  The son to perish as ye left the sire?

  And from that moment I saw nothing clear:

  For from all sides a deluge, as it seem’d,

  Burst o’er the altar and the Dorian lords,

  Of holiday-clad citizens transform’d 1955

  To armèd warriors: I heard vengeful cries;

  I heard the clash of weapons; then I saw

  The Dorians lying dead, thy son hail’d king.

  And, truly, one who sees, what seem’d so strong,

  The power of this tyrant and his lords, 1960

  Melt like a passing smoke, a nightly dream,

  At one bold word, one enterprising blow —

  Might ask, why we endur’d their yoke so long:

  But that we know how every perilous feat

  Of daring, easy as it seems when done, 1965

  Is easy at no moment but the right.

  THE CHORUS

  Thou speakest well; but here, to give our eyes

  Authentic proof of what thou tell’st our ears,

  The conquerors, with the King’s dead body, come.

  AEPYTUS, LAIAS, and ARCAS come in with the dead body of POLYPHONTES, followed by a crowd of the MESSENIANS.

  LAIAS

  Sister, from this day forth thou art no more 1970

  The widow of a husband unaveng’d,

  The anxious mother of an exil’d son.

  Thine enemy is slain, thy son is king!

  Rejoice with us! and trust me, he who wish’d

  Welfare to the Messenian state, and calm, 1975

  Could find no way to found them sure as this.

  AEPYTUS

  Mother, all these approve me: but if thou

  Approve not too, I have but half my joy.

  MEROPE

  O Aepytus, my son, behold, behold

  This iron man, my enemy and thine, 1980

  This politic sovereign, lying at our feet,

  With blood-bespatter’d robes, and chaplet shorn!

  Inscrutable as ever, see, it keeps

  Its sombre aspect of majestic care,

  Of solitary thought, unshar’d resolve, 1985

  Even in death, that countenance austere.

  So look’d he, when to Stenyclaros first,

  A new-made wife, I from Arcadia came,

  And found him at my husband’s side, his friend,

  His kinsman, his right hand in peace and war; 1990

  Unsparing in his service of his toil,

  His blood; to me, for I confess it, kind:

  So look’d he in that dreadful day of death:

  So, when he pleaded for our league but now.

  What meantest thou, O Polyphontes, what 1995

  Desired’st thou, what truly spurr’d thee on?

  Was policy of state, the ascendancy

  Of the Heracleidan conquerors, as thou said’st,

  Indeed thy lifelong passion and sole aim?

  Or did’st thou but, as cautions schemers use, 2000

  Cloak thine ambition with these specious words?

  I know not; just, in either case, the stroke

  Which laid thee low, for blood requires blood:

  But yet, not knowing this, I triumph not

  Over thy corpse, triumph not, neither mourn; 2005

  For I find worth in thee, and badness too.

  What mood of spirit, therefore, shall we call

  The true one of a man — what way of life

  His fix’d condition and perpetual walk?

  None, since a twofold colour reigns in all. 2010

  But thou, my son, study to make prevail

  One colour in thy life, the hue of truth:

  That Justice, that sage Order, not alone

  Natural Vengeance, may maintain thine act,

  And make it stand indeed the will of Heaven. 2015

  Thy father’s passion was this people’s ease,

  This people’s anarchy, thy foe’s pretence;

  As the chiefs rule, indeed, the people are:

  Unhappy people, where the chiefs themselves

  Are, like the mob, vicious and ignorant! 2020

  So rule, that even thine enemies may fail

  To find in thee a fault whereon to found,

  Of tyrannous harshness, or remissness weak:

  So rule, that as thy father thou be lov’d;

  So rule, that as thy foe thou be obey’d. 2025

  Take these, my son, over thine enemy’s corpse

  Thy mother’s prayers: and this prayer last of all,

  That even in thy victory thou show,

  Mortal, the moderation of a man.

  AEPYTUS

  O mother, my best diligence shall be 2030

  In all by thy experience to be rul’d

  Where my own youth falls short. But, Laias, now,

  First work after such victory, let us go

  To render to my true Messenians thanks,

  To the Gods grateful sacrifice; and then, 2035

  Assume the ensigns of my father’s power.

  THE CHORUS

  Son of Cresphontes, past what perils

  Com’st thou, guided safe, to thy home!

  What things daring! what enduring!

  And all this by the will of the Gods. 2040

  POEMS FROM MAGAZINES

  CONTENTS

  Men of Genius

  Saint Brandan

  A Southern Night

  Thyrsis

  Men of Genius

  SILENT, the Lord of the world

  Eyes from the heavenly height,

  Girt by his far-shining train,

  Us, who with banners unfurl’d

  Fight life’s many-chanc’d fight 5

  Madly below, in the plain.

  Then saith the Lord to his own: —

  ‘See ye the battle below?

  Turmoil of death and of birth!

  Too long let we them groan. 10

  Haste, arise ye, and go;

  Carry my peace upon earth.’

  Gladly they rise at his call;

  Gladly they take his command;

  Gladly descend to the plain. 15

  Alas! How few of them all —

  Those willing servants — shall stand

  In their Master’s presence again!

  Some in the tumult are lost:

  Baffled, bewilder’d, they stray. 20

  Some as prisoners draw breath.

  Others — the bravest — are cross’d,

  On the height of their bold-follow’d way,

  By the swift-rushing missile of Death.

  Hardly, hardly shall one 25

  Come, with countenance bright,

  O’er the cloud-wrapt, perilous plain:

  His Master’s errand well done,

  Safe through the smoke of the fight,

  Back to his Master again. 30

  Saint Brandan

  SAINT BRANDAN sails the northern main;

  The brotherhoods of saints are glad.

  He greets them once, he sails again.

  So late! — such storms! — The Saint is mad!

  He heard across th
e howling seas 5

  Chime convent bells on wintry nights,

  He saw on spray-swept Hebrides

  Twinkle the monastery lights;

  But north, still north, Saint Brandan steer’d;

  And now no bells, no convents more! 10

  The hurtling Polar lights are near’d,

  The sea without a human shore.

  At last — (it was the Christmas night,

  Stars shone after a day of storm) —

  He sees float past an iceberg white, 15

  And on it — Christ! — a living form!

  That furtive mien, that scowling eye,

  Of hair that red and tufted fell ——

  It is — Oh, where shall Brandan fly? —

  The traitor Judas, out of hell! 20

  Palsied with terror, Brandan sate;

  The moon was bright, the iceberg near.

  He hears a voice sigh humbly: ‘Wait!

  By high permission I am here.

  ‘One moment wait, thou holy man! 25

  On earth my crime, my death, they knew;

  My name is under all men’s ban;

  Ah, tell them of my respite too!

  ‘Tell them, one blessed Christmas night —

  (It was the first after I came, 30

  Breathing self-murder, frenzy, spite,

  To rue my guilt in endless flame) —

  ‘I felt, as I in torment lay

  ‘Mid the souls plagued by heavenly power,

  An angel touch mine arm, and say: 35

  Go hence, and cool thyself an hour!

  ‘“Ah, whence this mercy, Lord?” I said.

  The Leper recollect, said he,

  Who ask’d the passers-by for aid,

  In Joppa, and thy charity. 40

  ‘Then I remember’d how I went,

  In Joppa, through the public street,

  One morn, when the sirocco spent

  Its storms of dust, with burning heat;

  ‘And in the street a Leper sate, 45

  Shivering with fever, naked, old;

  Sand raked his sores from heel to pate,

  The hot wind fever’d him five-fold.

  ‘He gazed upon me as I pass’d,

  And murmur’d: Help me, or I die! — 50

  To the poor wretch my cloak I cast,

  Saw him look eased, and hurried by.

 

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