Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/44

6 Not innocent, indeed, yet not forlorn,—

Say, what shall calm us when such guests intrude

Like comets on the heavenly solitude?

Shall breathless glades, cheered by shy Dian's horn,

Cold-bubbling springs, or caves? Not so! The soul

Breasts her own griefs; and, urged too fiercely, says,

"Why tremble? True, the nobleness of man

May be by man effaced; man can control

To pain, to death, the bent of his own days.

Know thou the worst! So much, not more, he can."

TO A REPUBLICAN FRIEND, 1848.