Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/377

Rh 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.

ARCAS.

O mistress, by the Gods, do nothing rash!

MEROPE.

Unfaithful servant, dost thou, too, desert me?

ARCAS.

I go! I go!—The King holds council—there

Will I seek tidings. Take, the while, this word:

Attempting deeds beyond thy power to do,

Thou nothing profitest thy friends, but mak'st

Our misery more, and thine own ruin sure.

THE CHORUS.

I have heard, O Queen, how a prince,

Agamemnon's son, in Mycenæ,

Orestes, died but in name,

Lived for the death of his foes.

MEROPE.

Peace!

THE CHORUS.

What is it?

MEROPE.

Alas,

Thou destroyest me!