Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/413

Rh Thinking appeased

Gods unappeasable,

Lo, the ill-fated one,

Standing for harbor

Right at the harbor-mouth

Strikes with all sail set

Full on the sharp-pointed

Needle of ruin!

MESSENGER.

O honor'd Queen, O faithful followers

Of your dead master's line, I bring you news

To make the gates of this long-mournful house

Leap, and fly open of themselves for joy!

Hark how the shouting crowds tramp hitherward

With glad acclaim! Ere they forestall my news,

Accept it:—Polyphontes is no more.

MEROPE.

Is my son safe? that question bounds my care.

MESSENGER.

He is, and by the people hail'd for king.

MEROPE.

The rest to me is little; yet, since that

Must from some mouth be heard, relate it thou.

MESSENGER.

Not little, if thou saw'st what love, what zeal,

At thy dead husband's name the people show.