Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/409

Rh MEROPE.

O victor, victor, trip not at the goal!

POLYPHONTES.

Hatred and passionate envy blind thine eyes.

MEROPE.

Heaven-abandon'd wretch, that envies thee!

POLYPHONTES.

Thou hold'st so cheap, then, the Messenian crown?

MEROPE.

I think on what the future hath in store.

POLYPHONTES.

To-day I reign; the rest I leave to Fate.

MEROPE.

For Fate thou wait'st not long; since, in this hour ——

POLYPHONTES.

What? for so far Fate hath not proved my foe ——

MEROPE.

Fate seals my lips, and drags to ruin thee.

POLYPHONTES.

Enough! enough! I will no longer hear

The ill-boding note which frantic hatred sounds

To affright a fortune which the Gods secure.

Once more my friendship thou rejectest; well!