Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/393

Rh A people is no army, train'd to fight,

A passive engine, at their general's will;

And, if so used, proves, as thou say'st, unsure.

A people, like a common man, is dull,

Is lifeless, while its heart remains untouch'd;

A fool can drive it, and a fly may scare.

When it admires and loves, its heart awakes:

Then irresistibly it lives, it works;

A people, then, is an ally indeed—

It is ten thousand fiery wills in one.

Now I, if I invite them to run risk

Of life for my advantage, and myself,

Who chiefly profit, run no more than they—

How shall I rouse their love, their ardor so?

But, if some signal, unassisted stroke,

Dealt at my own sole risk, before their eyes,

Announces me their rightful prince return'd—

The undegenerate blood of Heracles—

The daring claimant of a perilous throne—

How might not such a sight as this revive

Their loyal passion tow'rd my father's house,

Kindle their hearts, make them no more a mob,

A craven mob, but a devouring fire?

Then might I use them, then, for one who thus

Spares not himself, themselves they will not spare.

Haply, had but one daring soul stood forth

To rally them and lead them to revenge,

When my great father fell, they had replied!

Alas! our foe alone stood forward then.

And thou, my mother, hadst thou made a sign—

Hadst thou, from thy forlorn and captive state

Of widowhood in these polluted halls,

Thy prison-house, raised one imploring cry—

Who knows but that avengers thou hadst found?