Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/392

354 On what a reed, my child, thou leanest there!

Knowest thou not how timorous, how unsure,

How useless an ally a people is

Against the one and certain arm of power?

Thy father perish'd in this people's cause,

Perish'd before their eyes, yet no man stirr'd!

For years, his widow, in their sight I stand,

A never-changing index to revenge—

What help, what vengeance, at their hands have I?—

At least, if thou wilt trust them, try them first.

Against the King himself array the host

Thou countest on to back thee 'gainst his lords;

First rally the Messenians to thy cause,

Give them cohesion, purpose, and resolve,

Marshal them to an army—then advance,

Then try the issue; and not, rushing on

Single and friendless, give to certain death

That dear-beloved, that young, that gracious head.

Be guided, O my son! spurn counsel not!

For know thou this, a violent heart hath been

Fatal to all the race of Heracles.

THE CHORUS.

With sage experience she speaks; and thou,

O Æpytus, weigh well her counsel given.

ÆPYTUS.

Ill counsel, in my judgment, gives she here,

Maidens, and reads experience much amiss;

Discrediting the succor which our cause

Might from the people draw, if rightly used;

Advising us a course which would, indeed,

If follow'd, make their succor slack and null.