Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/354

316 THE CHORUS.

There rose up a cry in the streets

From the terrified people.

From the altar of Zeus, from the crowd, came a wail.

A blow, a blow was struck, and he fell,

Sullying his garment with dark-streaming blood;

While stood o'er him a Form—

Some Form

MEROPE.

Ah me... Ah...

THE CHORUS.

Of a dreadful Presence of fear.

MEROPE.

More piercing the second cry rang,

Wail'd from the palace within,

From the Children.... The Fury to them,

Fresh from their father, draws near.

Ah bloody axe! dizzy blows!

In these ears, they thunder, they ring,

These poor ears, still! and these eyes

Night and day see them fall,

Fiery phantoms of death,

On the fair, curl'd heads of my sons.

THE CHORUS.

Not to thee only hath come

Sorrow, O Queen, of mankind.

Had not Electra to haunt

A palace defiled by a death unavenged,