Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/417

Rh Cloak thine ambition with these specious words?

I know not; just, in either case, the stroke

Which laid thee low, for blood requires blood;

But yet, not knowing this, I triumph not

Over thy corpse,—triumph not, neither mourn,—

For I find worth in thee, and badness too.

What mood of spirit, therefore, shall we call

The true one of a man—what way of life

His fix'd condition and perpetual walk?

None, since a twofold color reigns in all.

But thou, my son, study to make prevail

One color in thy life, the hue of truth;

That justice, that sage order, not alone

Natural vengeance, may maintain thine act,

And make it stand indeed the will of Heaven.

Thy father's passion was this people's ease,

This people's anarchy, thy foe's pretence.

As the chiefs rule, my son, the people are.

Unhappy people, where the chiefs themselves

Are, like the mob, vicious and ignorant!

So rule, that even thine enemies may fail

To find in thee a fault whereon to found,

Of tyrannous harshness, or remissness weak—

So rule, that as thy father thou be loved!

So rule, that as his foe thou be obey'd!

Take these, my son, over thine enemy's corpse

Thy mother's prayers! and this prayer last of all:

That even in thy victory thou show,

Mortal, the moderation of a man.

ÆPYTUS.

O mother, my best diligence shall be

In all by thy experience to be ruled

Where my own youth falls short! But, Laias, now,