Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/235

Rh They see the Indian

On his mountain lake; but squalls

Make their skiff reel, and worms

In the unkind spring have gnawn

Their melon-harvest to the heart. They see

The Scythian; but long frosts

Parch them in winter-time on the bare steppe,

Till they too fade like grass; they crawl

Like shadows forth in spring.

They see the merchants

On the Oxus-stream; but care

Must visit first them too, and make them pale:

Whether, through whirling sand,

A cloud of desert robber-horse have burst

Upon their caravan; or greedy kings,

In the walled cities the way passes through,

Crushed them with tolls; or fever-airs,

On some great river's marge,

Mown them down, far from home.

They see the heroes

Near harbor; but they share

Their lives, and former violent toil in Thebes,—

Seven-gated Thebes, or Troy;

Or where the echoing oars

Of Argo first

Startled the unknown sea.

The old Silenus

Came, lolling in the sunshine,

From the dewy forest-coverts,

This way, at noon.

Sitting by me, while his fauns