Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/384

346 ARCAS.

Hold, O Queen, hold!

Thou know'st not whom thou strik'st....

MEROPE.

I know his crime.

ARCAS.

Unhappy one! thou strik'st ——

MEROPE.

A most just blow.

ARCAS.

No, by the Gods, thou slay'st ——

MEROPE.

Stand off!

ARCAS.

Thy son!

MEROPE.

Ah!

ÆEPYTUS (awaking).

Who are these? What shrill, ear-piercing scream

Wakes me thus kindly from the perilous sleep

Wherewith fatigue and youth had bound mine eyes,

Even in the deadly palace of my foe?—

Areas! Thou here?

ARCAS (embracing him).

O my dear master! O

My child, my charge beloved, welcome to life!

As dead we held thee, mourn'd for thee as dead.