ArcasO mistress, by the Gods, do nothing rash!MeropeUnfaithful servant, dost thou, too, desert me?ArcasI go! I go!—The King holds council—thereWill I seek tidings. Take, the while, this word:Attempting deeds beyond thy power to do,Thou nothing profitest thy friends, but mak'stOur misery more, and thine own ruin sure.[Arcasgoes out.The ChorusI have heard, O Queen, how a prince,str.1.Agamemnon's son, in Mycenæ,Orestes, died but in name,Lived for the death of his foes.MeropePeace!The ChorusWhat is it?MeropeAlas,Thou destroyest me!The ChorusHow?MeropeWhispering hope of a lifeWhich no stranger unknown,But the faithful servant and nurse,Whose tears warrant his truth,Bears sad witness is lost.The Chorusant.1Wheresoe'er men are, there is grief.In a thousand countries, a thousandHomes, e'en now is there wail;Mothers lamenting their sons.MeropeYes——The ChorusThou knowest it?MeropeThis,Who lives, witnesses.The ChorusTrue.MeropeBut is it only a fateSure, all-common, to loseIn a land of friends, by a friend,One last, murder-saved child?The Chorusstr.2.Ah me!MeropeThou confessest the prizeIn the rushing, thundering, mad,Cloud-enveloped, obscure,Unapplauded, unsungRace of calamity, mine?The ChorusNone can truly claim thatMournful preëminence, notThou.MeropeFategivesit, ah me!The ChorusNot, above all, in the doubts,Double and clashing, that hang——Meropeant.2.What then?Seems it lighter, my loss,If, perhaps, unpierced by the sword,My child lies in his jagg'dSunless prison of rock,On the black wave borne to and fro?The ChorusWorse, far worse, if his friend,If the Arcadian within,If——Merope(with a start)How say'st thou? within?...The ChorusHe in the guest-chamber now,Faithlessly murder'd his friend.MeropeYe, too, ye, too, join to betray, thenYour Queen!The ChorusWhat is this?MeropeYe knew,O false friends! into whatHaven the murderer had dropp'd?Ye kept silence?The ChorusIn fear,O loved mistress! in fear,Dreading thine over-wrought mood,What I knew, I conceal'd.MeropeSwear by the Gods henceforth to obey me!The ChorusUnhappy one, what deedPurposes thy despair?I promise; but I fear.MeropeFrom the altar, the unavenged tomb,Fetch me the sacrifice-axe!——[The Chorusgoes towards the tomb ofCresphontes,and their leader brings back the axe.O Husband, O clothedWith the grave's everlasting,All-covering darkness! O King,Well-mourn'd, but ill-avenged!Approv'st thou thy wife now?——The axe!—who brings it?The Chorus'Tis here!But thy gesture, thy look,Appals me, shakes me with awe.MeropeThrust back now the bolt of that door!The ChorusAlas! alas!—Behold the fastenings withdrawnOf the guest-chamber door!—Ah! I beseech thee—with tears——MeropeThrow the door open!The Chorus'Tis done!...[The door of the house is thrown open: the interiorof the guest-chamber is discovered, withÆpytusasleep on a couch.MeropeHe sleeps—sleeps calm. O ye all-seeing Gods!Thus peacefully do ye let sinners sleep,While troubled innocents toss, and lie awake?What sweeter sleep than this could I desireFor thee, my child, if thou wert yet alive?How often have I dream'd of thee like this,With thy soil'd hunting-coat, and sandals torn,Asleep in the Arcadian glens at noon,Thy head droop'd softly, and the golden curlsClustering o'er thy white forehead, like a girl's;The short proud lip showing thy race, thy cheeksBrown'd with thine open-air, free, hunter's life.Ah me!And where dost thou sleep now, my innocent boy?—In some dark fir-tree's shadow, amid rocksUntrodden, on Cyllenê's desolate side;Where travellers never pass, where only comeWild beasts, and vultures sailing overhead.There, there thou liest now, my hapless child!Stretch'd among briars and stones, the slow, black goreOozing through thy soak'd hunting-shirt, with limbsYet stark from the death-struggle, tight-clench'd hands,And eyeballs staring for revenge in vain.Ah miserable!And thou, thou fair-skinn'd Serpent! thou art laidIn a rich chamber, on a happy bed,In a king's house, thy victim's heritage;And drink'st untroubled slumber, to sleep offThe toils of thy foul service, till thou wakeRefresh'd, and claim thy master's thanks and gold.—Wake up in hell from thine unhallow'd sleep,Thou smiling Fiend, and claim thy guerdon there!Wake amid gloom, and howling, and the noiseOf sinners pinion'd on the torturing wheel,And the stanch Furies' never-silent scourge.And bid the chief tormentors there provideFor a grand culprit shortly coming down.Go thou the first, and usher in thy lord!A more just stroke than that thou gav'st my sonTake——[Meropeadvances towards the sleepingÆpytus,with the axe uplifted. At the same momentArcasre-enters.Arcas(to the Chorus)Not with him to council did the KingCarry his messenger, but left him here.[SeesMeropeandÆpytus.O Gods!...MeropeFoolish old man, thou spoil'st my blow!ArcasWhat do I see?...MeropeA murderer at death's door.Therefore no words!ArcasA murderer?...MeropeAnd a captiveTo the dear next-of-kin of him he murder'd.Stand, and let vengeance pass!ArcasHold, O Queen, hold!Thou know'st not whom thou strik'st....MeropeI know his crime.ArcasUnhappy one! thou strik'st——MeropeA most just blow.ArcasNo, by the Gods, thou slay'st——MeropeStand off!ArcasThy son!MeropeAh!...[She lets the axe drop, and falls insensible.Æpytus(awaking)Who are these? What shrill, ear-piercing screamWakes me thus kindly from the perilous sleepWherewith fatigue and youth had bound mine eyes,Even in the deadly palace of my foe?—Arcas! Thou here?Arcas(embracing him)O my dear master! OMy child, my charge beloved, welcome to life!As dead we held thee, mourn'd for thee as dead.ÆpytusIn word I died, that I in deed might live.But who are these?ArcasMessenian maidens, friends.ÆpytusAnd, Arcas!—but I tremble!ArcasBoldly ask.ÆpytusThat black-robed, swooning figure?...ArcasMerope.ÆpytusO mother! mother!MeropeWho upbraids me? Ah!...[seeing the axe.ÆpytusUpbraids thee? no one.MeropeThou dost well: but take....ÆpytusWhat wav'st thou off?MeropeThat murderous axe away!ÆpytusThy son is here.MeropeOne said so, sure, but now.ÆpytusHere, here thou hast him!MeropeSlaughter'd by this hand!...ÆpytusNo, by the Gods, alive and like to live!MeropeWhat, thou?—I dream——ÆpytusMay'st thou dream ever so!Merope(advancing towards him)My child? unhurt?...ÆpytusOnly by over joyMeropeArt thou, then, come?...ÆpytusNever to part again.[They fall into one another's arms. ThenMerope,holdingÆpytusby the hand, turns toTheChorus.MeropeO kind Messenian maidens, O my friends,Bear witness, see, mark well, on what a headMy first stroke of revenge had nearly fallen!The ChorusWe see, dear mistress: and we say, the Gods,As hitherto they kept him, keep him now.MeropeO my son!str.I have, I have thee ... the yearsFly back, my child! and thou seem'stNe'er to have gone from these eyes,Never been torn from this breast.ÆpytusMother, my heart runs over; but the timePresses me, chides me, will not let me weep.MeropeFearest thou now?ÆpytusI fear not, but I think on my design.MeropeAt the undried fount of this breast,A babe, thou smilest again.Thy brothers play at my feet,Early-slain innocents! near,Thy kind-speaking father stands.ÆpytusRemember, to revenge his death I come!MeropeAh ... revenge!ant.That word! it kills me! I seeOnce more roll back on my house,Never to ebb, the accurstAll-flooding ocean of blood.ÆpytusMother, sometimes the justice of the GodsAppoints the way to peace through shedding blood.MeropeSorrowful peace!ÆpytusAnd yet the only peace to us allow'd.MeropeFrom the first-wrought vengeance is bornA long succession of crimes.Fresh blood flows, calling for blood.Fathers, sons, grandsons, are allOne death-dealing vengeful train.ÆpytusMother, thy fears are idle; for I comeTo close an old wound, not to open new.In all else willing to be taught, in thisInstruct me not; I have my lesson clear.—Arcas, seek out my uncle Laias, nowConferring in the city with our friends;Here bring him, ere the king come back from council.That, how to accomplish what the Gods enjoin,And the slow-ripening time at last prepares,We two with thee, my mother, may consult;For whose help dare I count on, if not thine?MeropeApproves my brother Laias this intent?ÆpytusYes, and alone is with me here to share.MeropeAnd what of thine Arcadian mate, who bearsSuspicion from thy grandsire of thy death,For whom, as I suppose, thou passest here?ÆpytusSworn to our plot he is; if false surmiseFix him the author of my death, I know not.MeropeProof, not surmise, shows him in commerce close——ÆpytusWith this Messenian tyrant—that I know.MeropeAnd entertain'st thou, child, such dangerous friends?ÆpytusThis commerce for my best behoof he plies.MeropeThat thou may'st read thine enemy's counsel plain?ÆpytusToo dear his secret wiles have cost our house.MeropeAnd of his unsure agent what demands he?ÆpytusNews of my business, pastime, temper, friends.MeropeHis messages, then, point not to thy murder?ÆpytusNot yet, though such, no doubt, his final aim.MeropeAnd what Arcadian helpers bring'st thou here?ÆpytusLaias alone; no errand mine for crowds.MeropeOn what relying, to crush such a foe?ÆpytusOne sudden stroke, and the Messenians' love.MeropeO thou long-lost, long seen in dreams alone,But now seen face to face, my only child!Why wilt thou fly to lose as soon as foundMy new-won treasure, thy belovéd life?Or how expectest not to lose, who com'stWith such slight means to cope with such a foe?Thine enemy thou know'st not, nor his strength.The stroke thou purposest is desperate, rash—Yet grant that it succeeds—thou hast behindThe stricken king a second enemyScarce dangerous less than him, the Dorian lords.These are not now the savage band who erstFollow'd thy father from their northern hills,Mere ruthless and uncounsell'd wolves of war,Good to obey, without a leader nought.Their chief hath train'd them, made them like himself,Sagacious, men of iron, watchful, firm,Against surprise and sudden panic proof.Their master fall'n, these will not flinch, but bandTo keep their master's power; thou wilt findBehind his corpse their hedge of serried spears.But, to match these, thou hast the people's love?On what a reed, my child, thou leanest there!Knowest thou not how timorous, how unsure,How useless an ally a people isAgainst the one and certain arm of power?Thy father perish'd in this people's cause,Perish'd before their eyes, yet no man stirr'd!For years, his widow, in their sight I stand,A never-changing index to revenge—What help, what vengeance, at their hands have I?—At least, if thou wilt trust them, try them first.Against the King himself array the hostThou countest on to back thee 'gainst his lords;First rally the Messenians to thy cause,Give them cohesion, purpose, and resolve,Marshal them to an army—then advance,Then try the issue; and not, rushing onSingle and friendless, give to certain deathThat dear-beloved, that young, that gracious head.Be guided, O my son! spurn counsel not!For know thou this, a violent heart hath beenFatal to all the race of Heracles.The ChorusWith sage experience she speaks; and thou,O Æpytus, weigh well her counsel given.ÆpytusIll counsel, in my judgment, gives she here,Maidens, and reads experience much amiss;Discrediting the succour which our causeMight from the people draw, if rightly used;Advising us a course which would, indeed,If follow'd, make their succour slack and null.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 riskOf life for my advantage, and myself,Who chiefly profit, run no more than they—How shall I rouse their love, their ardour 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 reviveTheir 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 thusSpares not himself, themselves they will not spare.Haply, had but one daring soul stood forthTo 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 stateOf widowhood in these polluted halls,Thy prison-house, raised one imploring cry—Who knows but that avengers thou hadst found?But mute thou sat'st, and each Messenian heartIn thy despondency desponded too.Enough of this!—Though not a finger stirTo succour me in my extremest need;Though all free spirits in this land were dead,And only slaves and tyrants left alive;Yet for me, mother, I had liefer dieOn native ground, than drag the tedious hoursOf a protected exile any more.Hate, duty, interest, passion call one way;Here stand I now, and the attempt shall be.The ChorusPrudence is on the other side; but deedsCondemn'd by prudence have sometimes gone well.MeropeNot till the ways of prudence all are tried,And tried in vain, the turn of rashness comes.Thou leapest to thy deed, and hast not ask'dThy kinsfolk and thy father's friends for aid.ÆpytusAnd to what friends should I for aid apply?MeropeThe royal race of Temenus, in Argos——ÆpytusThat house, like ours, intestine murder maims.MeropeThy Spartan cousins, Procles and his brother——ÆpytusLove a won cause, but not a cause to win.MeropeMy father, then, and his Arcadian chiefs——ÆpytusMean still to keep aloof from Dorian broil.MeropeWait, then, until sufficient help appears.ÆpytusOrestes in Mycenæ had no more.MeropeHe to fulfil an order raised his hand.ÆpytusWhat order more precise had he than I?MeropeApollo peal'd it from his Delphian cave.ÆpytusA mother's murder needed hest divine.MeropeHe had a hest, at least, and thou hast none.ÆpytusThe Gods command not where the heart speaks clear.MeropeThou wilt destroy, I see, thyself and us.
Arcas
O mistress, by the Gods, do nothing rash!
Merope
Unfaithful servant, dost thou, too, desert me?
Arcas
I go! I go!—The King holds council—thereWill I seek tidings. Take, the while, this word:Attempting deeds beyond thy power to do,Thou nothing profitest thy friends, but mak'stOur misery more, and thine own ruin sure.
[Arcasgoes out.
The Chorus
I have heard, O Queen, how a prince,str.1.Agamemnon's son, in Mycenæ,Orestes, died but in name,Lived for the death of his foes.
Merope
Peace!
The Chorus
What is it?
Merope
Alas,Thou destroyest me!
The Chorus
How?
Merope
Whispering hope of a lifeWhich no stranger unknown,But the faithful servant and nurse,Whose tears warrant his truth,Bears sad witness is lost.
The Chorus
ant.1Wheresoe'er men are, there is grief.In a thousand countries, a thousandHomes, e'en now is there wail;Mothers lamenting their sons.
Merope
Yes——
The Chorus
Thou knowest it?
Merope
This,Who lives, witnesses.
The Chorus
True.
Merope
But is it only a fateSure, all-common, to loseIn a land of friends, by a friend,One last, murder-saved child?
The Chorus
str.2.Ah me!
Merope
Thou confessest the prizeIn the rushing, thundering, mad,Cloud-enveloped, obscure,Unapplauded, unsungRace of calamity, mine?
The Chorus
None can truly claim thatMournful preëminence, notThou.
Merope
Fategivesit, ah me!
The Chorus
Not, above all, in the doubts,Double and clashing, that hang——
Merope
ant.2.What then?Seems it lighter, my loss,If, perhaps, unpierced by the sword,My child lies in his jagg'dSunless prison of rock,On the black wave borne to and fro?
The Chorus
Worse, far worse, if his friend,If the Arcadian within,If——
Merope(with a start)
How say'st thou? within?...
The Chorus
He in the guest-chamber now,Faithlessly murder'd his friend.
Merope
Ye, too, ye, too, join to betray, thenYour Queen!
The Chorus
What is this?
Merope
Ye knew,O false friends! into whatHaven the murderer had dropp'd?Ye kept silence?
The Chorus
In fear,O loved mistress! in fear,Dreading thine over-wrought mood,What I knew, I conceal'd.
Merope
Swear by the Gods henceforth to obey me!
The Chorus
Unhappy one, what deedPurposes thy despair?I promise; but I fear.
Merope
From the altar, the unavenged tomb,Fetch me the sacrifice-axe!——
[The Chorusgoes towards the tomb ofCresphontes,and their leader brings back the axe.
O Husband, O clothedWith the grave's everlasting,All-covering darkness! O King,Well-mourn'd, but ill-avenged!Approv'st thou thy wife now?——The axe!—who brings it?
The Chorus
'Tis here!But thy gesture, thy look,Appals me, shakes me with awe.
Merope
Thrust back now the bolt of that door!
The Chorus
Alas! alas!—Behold the fastenings withdrawnOf the guest-chamber door!—Ah! I beseech thee—with tears——
Merope
Throw the door open!
The Chorus
'Tis done!...
[The door of the house is thrown open: the interiorof the guest-chamber is discovered, withÆpytusasleep on a couch.
Merope
He sleeps—sleeps calm. O ye all-seeing Gods!Thus peacefully do ye let sinners sleep,While troubled innocents toss, and lie awake?What sweeter sleep than this could I desireFor thee, my child, if thou wert yet alive?How often have I dream'd of thee like this,With thy soil'd hunting-coat, and sandals torn,Asleep in the Arcadian glens at noon,Thy head droop'd softly, and the golden curlsClustering o'er thy white forehead, like a girl's;The short proud lip showing thy race, thy cheeksBrown'd with thine open-air, free, hunter's life.Ah me!And where dost thou sleep now, my innocent boy?—In some dark fir-tree's shadow, amid rocksUntrodden, on Cyllenê's desolate side;Where travellers never pass, where only comeWild beasts, and vultures sailing overhead.There, there thou liest now, my hapless child!Stretch'd among briars and stones, the slow, black goreOozing through thy soak'd hunting-shirt, with limbsYet stark from the death-struggle, tight-clench'd hands,And eyeballs staring for revenge in vain.Ah miserable!And thou, thou fair-skinn'd Serpent! thou art laidIn a rich chamber, on a happy bed,In a king's house, thy victim's heritage;And drink'st untroubled slumber, to sleep offThe toils of thy foul service, till thou wakeRefresh'd, and claim thy master's thanks and gold.—Wake up in hell from thine unhallow'd sleep,Thou smiling Fiend, and claim thy guerdon there!Wake amid gloom, and howling, and the noiseOf sinners pinion'd on the torturing wheel,And the stanch Furies' never-silent scourge.And bid the chief tormentors there provideFor a grand culprit shortly coming down.Go thou the first, and usher in thy lord!A more just stroke than that thou gav'st my sonTake——
[Meropeadvances towards the sleepingÆpytus,with the axe uplifted. At the same momentArcasre-enters.
Arcas(to the Chorus)
Not with him to council did the KingCarry his messenger, but left him here.
[SeesMeropeandÆpytus.
O Gods!...
Merope
Foolish old man, thou spoil'st my blow!
Arcas
What do I see?...
Merope
A murderer at death's door.Therefore no words!
Arcas
A murderer?...
Merope
And a captiveTo the dear next-of-kin of him he murder'd.Stand, and let vengeance pass!
Arcas
Hold, O Queen, hold!Thou know'st not whom thou strik'st....
Merope
I know his crime.
Arcas
Unhappy one! thou strik'st——
Merope
A most just blow.
Arcas
No, by the Gods, thou slay'st——
Merope
Stand off!
Arcas
Thy son!
Merope
Ah!...
[She lets the axe drop, and falls insensible.
Æpytus(awaking)
Who are these? What shrill, ear-piercing screamWakes me thus kindly from the perilous sleepWherewith fatigue and youth had bound mine eyes,Even in the deadly palace of my foe?—Arcas! Thou here?
Arcas(embracing him)
O my dear master! OMy child, my charge beloved, welcome to life!As dead we held thee, mourn'd for thee as dead.
Æpytus
In word I died, that I in deed might live.But who are these?
Arcas
Messenian maidens, friends.
Æpytus
And, Arcas!—but I tremble!
Arcas
Boldly ask.
Æpytus
That black-robed, swooning figure?...
Arcas
Merope.
Æpytus
O mother! mother!
Merope
Who upbraids me? Ah!...[seeing the axe.
Æpytus
Upbraids thee? no one.
Merope
Thou dost well: but take....
Æpytus
What wav'st thou off?
Merope
That murderous axe away!
Æpytus
Thy son is here.
Merope
One said so, sure, but now.
Æpytus
Here, here thou hast him!
Merope
Slaughter'd by this hand!...
Æpytus
No, by the Gods, alive and like to live!
Merope
What, thou?—I dream——
Æpytus
May'st thou dream ever so!
Merope(advancing towards him)
My child? unhurt?...
Æpytus
Only by over joy
Merope
Art thou, then, come?...
Æpytus
Never to part again.
[They fall into one another's arms. ThenMerope,holdingÆpytusby the hand, turns toTheChorus.
Merope
O kind Messenian maidens, O my friends,Bear witness, see, mark well, on what a headMy first stroke of revenge had nearly fallen!
The Chorus
We see, dear mistress: and we say, the Gods,As hitherto they kept him, keep him now.
Merope
O my son!str.I have, I have thee ... the yearsFly back, my child! and thou seem'stNe'er to have gone from these eyes,Never been torn from this breast.
Æpytus
Mother, my heart runs over; but the timePresses me, chides me, will not let me weep.
Merope
Fearest thou now?
Æpytus
I fear not, but I think on my design.
Merope
At the undried fount of this breast,A babe, thou smilest again.Thy brothers play at my feet,Early-slain innocents! near,Thy kind-speaking father stands.
Æpytus
Remember, to revenge his death I come!
Merope
Ah ... revenge!ant.That word! it kills me! I seeOnce more roll back on my house,Never to ebb, the accurstAll-flooding ocean of blood.
Æpytus
Mother, sometimes the justice of the GodsAppoints the way to peace through shedding blood.
Merope
Sorrowful peace!
Æpytus
And yet the only peace to us allow'd.
Merope
From the first-wrought vengeance is bornA long succession of crimes.Fresh blood flows, calling for blood.Fathers, sons, grandsons, are allOne death-dealing vengeful train.
Æpytus
Mother, thy fears are idle; for I comeTo close an old wound, not to open new.In all else willing to be taught, in thisInstruct me not; I have my lesson clear.—Arcas, seek out my uncle Laias, nowConferring in the city with our friends;Here bring him, ere the king come back from council.That, how to accomplish what the Gods enjoin,And the slow-ripening time at last prepares,We two with thee, my mother, may consult;For whose help dare I count on, if not thine?
Merope
Approves my brother Laias this intent?
Æpytus
Yes, and alone is with me here to share.
Merope
And what of thine Arcadian mate, who bearsSuspicion from thy grandsire of thy death,For whom, as I suppose, thou passest here?
Æpytus
Sworn to our plot he is; if false surmiseFix him the author of my death, I know not.
Merope
Proof, not surmise, shows him in commerce close——
Æpytus
With this Messenian tyrant—that I know.
Merope
And entertain'st thou, child, such dangerous friends?
Æpytus
This commerce for my best behoof he plies.
Merope
That thou may'st read thine enemy's counsel plain?
Æpytus
Too dear his secret wiles have cost our house.
Merope
And of his unsure agent what demands he?
Æpytus
News of my business, pastime, temper, friends.
Merope
His messages, then, point not to thy murder?
Æpytus
Not yet, though such, no doubt, his final aim.
Merope
And what Arcadian helpers bring'st thou here?
Æpytus
Laias alone; no errand mine for crowds.
Merope
On what relying, to crush such a foe?
Æpytus
One sudden stroke, and the Messenians' love.
Merope
O thou long-lost, long seen in dreams alone,But now seen face to face, my only child!Why wilt thou fly to lose as soon as foundMy new-won treasure, thy belovéd life?Or how expectest not to lose, who com'stWith such slight means to cope with such a foe?Thine enemy thou know'st not, nor his strength.The stroke thou purposest is desperate, rash—Yet grant that it succeeds—thou hast behindThe stricken king a second enemyScarce dangerous less than him, the Dorian lords.These are not now the savage band who erstFollow'd thy father from their northern hills,Mere ruthless and uncounsell'd wolves of war,Good to obey, without a leader nought.Their chief hath train'd them, made them like himself,Sagacious, men of iron, watchful, firm,Against surprise and sudden panic proof.Their master fall'n, these will not flinch, but bandTo keep their master's power; thou wilt findBehind his corpse their hedge of serried spears.But, to match these, thou hast the people's love?On what a reed, my child, thou leanest there!Knowest thou not how timorous, how unsure,How useless an ally a people isAgainst the one and certain arm of power?Thy father perish'd in this people's cause,Perish'd before their eyes, yet no man stirr'd!For years, his widow, in their sight I stand,A never-changing index to revenge—What help, what vengeance, at their hands have I?—At least, if thou wilt trust them, try them first.Against the King himself array the hostThou countest on to back thee 'gainst his lords;First rally the Messenians to thy cause,Give them cohesion, purpose, and resolve,Marshal them to an army—then advance,Then try the issue; and not, rushing onSingle and friendless, give to certain deathThat dear-beloved, that young, that gracious head.Be guided, O my son! spurn counsel not!For know thou this, a violent heart hath beenFatal to all the race of Heracles.
The Chorus
With sage experience she speaks; and thou,O Æpytus, weigh well her counsel given.
Æpytus
Ill counsel, in my judgment, gives she here,Maidens, and reads experience much amiss;Discrediting the succour which our causeMight from the people draw, if rightly used;Advising us a course which would, indeed,If follow'd, make their succour slack and null.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 riskOf life for my advantage, and myself,Who chiefly profit, run no more than they—How shall I rouse their love, their ardour 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 reviveTheir 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 thusSpares not himself, themselves they will not spare.Haply, had but one daring soul stood forthTo 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 stateOf widowhood in these polluted halls,Thy prison-house, raised one imploring cry—Who knows but that avengers thou hadst found?But mute thou sat'st, and each Messenian heartIn thy despondency desponded too.Enough of this!—Though not a finger stirTo succour me in my extremest need;Though all free spirits in this land were dead,And only slaves and tyrants left alive;Yet for me, mother, I had liefer dieOn native ground, than drag the tedious hoursOf a protected exile any more.Hate, duty, interest, passion call one way;Here stand I now, and the attempt shall be.
The Chorus
Prudence is on the other side; but deedsCondemn'd by prudence have sometimes gone well.
Merope
Not till the ways of prudence all are tried,And tried in vain, the turn of rashness comes.Thou leapest to thy deed, and hast not ask'dThy kinsfolk and thy father's friends for aid.
Æpytus
And to what friends should I for aid apply?
Merope
The royal race of Temenus, in Argos——
Æpytus
That house, like ours, intestine murder maims.
Merope
Thy Spartan cousins, Procles and his brother——
Æpytus
Love a won cause, but not a cause to win.
Merope
My father, then, and his Arcadian chiefs——
Æpytus
Mean still to keep aloof from Dorian broil.
Merope
Wait, then, until sufficient help appears.
Æpytus
Orestes in Mycenæ had no more.
Merope
He to fulfil an order raised his hand.
Æpytus
What order more precise had he than I?
Merope
Apollo peal'd it from his Delphian cave.
Æpytus
A mother's murder needed hest divine.
Merope
He had a hest, at least, and thou hast none.
Æpytus
The Gods command not where the heart speaks clear.
Merope
Thou wilt destroy, I see, thyself and us.