Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/355

Rh For years, in silence, devouring her heart?

But her nursling, her hope, came at last.

Thou, too, rearest in hope,

Far 'mid Arcadian hills,

Somewhere, for vengeance, a champion, a light.

Soon, soon shall Zeus bring him home!

Soon shall he dawn on this land!

MEROPE.

Him in secret, in tears,

Month after month, I await

Vainly. For he, in the glens

Of Lycæus afar,

A gladsome hunter of deer,

Basks in his morning of youth,

Spares not a thought to his home.

THE CHORUS.

Give not thy heart to despair.

No lamentation can loose

Prisoners of death from the grave;

But Zeus, who accounteth thy quarrel his own,

Still rules, still watches, and numb'reth the hours

Till the sinner, the vengeance, be ripe.

Still, by Acheron stream,

Terrible Deities throned

Sit, and eye grimly the victim unscourged.

Still, still the Dorian boy,

Exiled, remembers his home.

MEROPE.

Him if high-ruling Zeus

Bring to me safe, let the rest