Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/378

340 THE CHORUS.

How?

MEROPE.

Whispering hope of a life

Which no stranger unknown,

But the faithful servant and nurse,

Whose tears warrant his truth,

Bears sad witness is lost.

THE CHORUS.

Wheresoe'er men are, there is grief.

In a thousand countries, a thousand

Homes, e'en now is there wail:

Mothers lamenting their sons.

MEROPE.

Yes ——

THE CHORUS.

Thou knowest it?

MEROPE. This,

Who lives, witnesses.

THE CHORUS.

True.

MEROPE.

But is it only a fate

Sure, all-common, to lose

In a land of friends, by a friend,

One last, murder-saved child?