Matthew Arnold

“ Shall we judge what for man is not true bliss or is?
⁠Is it so small a thing
⁠To have enjoyed the sun,
⁠To have lived light in the spring,
⁠To have loved, to have thought, to have done
To have advanced true friends, and beat down baffling foes,—
⁠That we must feign a bliss
⁠Of doubtful future date,
⁠And, while we dream on this,
⁠Lose all our present state,
And relegate to worlds yet distant our repose?
⁠Not much, I know, you prize
⁠What pleasures may be had,
⁠Who look on life with eyes
⁠Estranged, like mine, and sad;
And yet the village-churl feels the truth more than you ”

“ Have told thee false: thou art not Rustum's son.
For Rustum had no son: one child he had,—
But one,—a girl; who with her mother now
Plies some light female task, nor dreams of us,—
Of us she dreams not, nor of wounds, nor war."
⁠But Sohrab answered him in wrath; for now
The anguish of the deep-fixed spear grew fierce,
And he desired to draw forth the steel,
And let the blood flow free, and so to die.
But first he would convince his stubborn foe;
And, rising sternly on one arm, he said,—
⁠"Man, who art thou who dost deny my words?
Truth sits upon the lips of dying men ”

“ MEROPE.
Alas, how fair a color can his tongue,
Who self-exculpates, lend to foulest deeds!
Thy trusting lord didst thou, his servant, slay;
Kinsman, thou slew'st thy kinsman; friend, thy friend—
This were enough; but let me tell thee, too,
Thou hadst no cause, as feign'd, in his misrule.
For ask at Argos, asked in Lacedæmon,
Whose people, when the Heracleidæ came,
Were hunted out, and to Achaia fled,
Whether is better, to abide alone,
A wolfish band, in a dispeopled realm,
Or conquerors with conquer'd to unite
Into one puissant folk, as he design'd? ”

“ Hangs dark upon the rolling sea.
Oh that yon sea-bird's wings were mine,
To win one instant's glimpse of thee!
I must not spring to grasp thy hand,
To woo thy smile, to seek thine eye;
But I may stand far off, and gaze,
And watch thee pass unconscious by,—
And spell thy looks, and guess thy thoughts,
Mixed with the idlers on the pier.
Ah! might I always rest unseen,
So I might have thee always near!
To-morrow hurry through the fields
Of Flanders to the storied Rhine!
To-night those soft-fringed eyes shall close
Beneath one roof, my queen! with mine. ”

“ Let us in marriage, King and Queen, unite
Claims ever hostile else, and set thy son—
No more an exile fed on empty hopes,
And to an unsubstantial title heir,
But prince adopted by the will of power,
And future king—before this people's eyes.
Consider him! consider not old hates!
Consider, too, this people, who were dear
To their dead king, thy husband—yea, too dear,
For that destroy'd him. Give them peace! thou canst.
O Merope, how many noble thoughts,
How many precious feelings of man's heart,
How many loves, how many gratitudes,
Do twenty years wear out, and see expire! ”

“ And on the highest pines; but farther down,
Here in the valley, is in shade; the sward
Is dark, and on the stream the mist still hangs;
One sees one's footprints crushed in the wet grass,
One's breath curls in the air; and on these pines
That climb from the stream's edge, the long gray tufts,
Which the goats love, are jewelled thick with dew.
Here will I stay till the slow litter comes.
I have my harp too: that is well.—Apollo!
What mortal could be sick or sorry here?
I know not in what mind Empedocles,
Whose mules I followed, may be coming up ”

“ Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.
"And with joy the stars perform their shining,
And the sea its long moon-silvered roll;
For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting
All the fever of some differing soul.
"Bounded by themselves, and unregardful
In what state God's other works may be,
In their own tasks all their powers pouring,
These attain the mighty life you see."
O air-born voice! long since, severely clear,
A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear,—
"Resolve to be thyself; and know, that he
Who finds himself loses his misery!" ”

“ And Rustum plucked it back with angry groan.
Then Sohrab with his sword smote Rustum's helm,
Nor clove its steel quite through; but all the crest
He shore away, and that proud horse-hair plume,
Never till now defiled, sank to the dust;
And Rustum bowed his head. But then the gloom
Grew blacker, thunder rumbled in the air,
And lightnings rent the cloud; and Ruksh the horse,
Who stood at hand, uttered a dreadful cry:
No horse's cry was that, most like the roar
Of some pained desert-lion, who all day
Has trailed the hunter's javelin in his side,
And comes at night to die upon the sand ”

“ A daring hand, that shrunk not to fulfil
The thought that spurr'd it; and a dauntless will,
Bold action's parent; and a piercing ken
Through the dark chambers of the hearts of men,
To read each thought, and teach that master-mind
The fears and hopes and passions of mankind;
All these were thine—oh thought of fear!—and thou,
Stretch'd on that bed of death, art nothing now.
⁠Then all his vision faded, and his soul
Sprang from its sleep! and lo! the waters roll
Once more beneath him; and the fluttering sail,
Where the dark ships rode proudly, woo'd the gale ”

“ ÆPYTUS.
The Gods command not where the heart speaks clear.
MEROPE.
Thou wilt destroy, I see, thyself and us.
ÆPYTUS.
O suffering! O calamity! how ten,
How twentyfold worse are ye, when your blows
Not only wound the sense, but kill the soul,
The noble thought, which is alone the man!
That I, to-day returning, find myself
Orphan'd of both my parents—by his foes
My father, by your strokes my mother slain!
For this is not my mother, who dissuades,
At the dread altar of her husband's tomb,
His son from vengeance on his murderer ”

“ Converse; his speech remains, though he be dead."
⁠And straight to Balder Hermod turned, and spake:
"Even in the abode of death, O Balder, hail!
Thou hear'st, if hearing, like as speech, is thine,
The terms of thy releasement hence to heaven;
Fear nothing but that all shall be fulfilled.
For not unmindful of thee are the gods,
Who see the light, and blest in Asgard dwell;
Even here they seek thee out, in Hela's realm.
And, sure, of all the happiest far art thou
Who ever have been known in earth or heaven:
Alive, thou wast of gods the most beloved ”

“ 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 found
My new-won treasure, thy belovéd life?
Or how expectest not to lose, who com'st
With such slight means to cope with such a foe?
Thine enemy thou know'st not, nor his strength. ”

“ Ask, where now those nightingales are singing,
⁠Who, of late, on the soft nights of May,
Set thine ears with soul-fraught music ringing—
⁠Only, while their love liv'd, lasted they.
Find I him, for whom I had to sever?—
⁠Doubt it not, we met, and we are one.
There, where what is join'd, is join'd for ever,
⁠There, where tears are never more to run.
There thou too shalt live with us together,
⁠When thou too hast borne the love we bore:
There, from sin deliver'd, dwells my Father,
⁠Track'd by Murder's bloody sword no more. ”

“ 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! ”

“ DOVER BEACH.
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast, the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched sand,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in. ”

“ He has the wild stag's foot, the lion's heart;
And he is young, and Iran's chiefs are old,
Or else too weak; and all eyes turn to thee.
Come down and help us, Rustum, or we lose!"
⁠He spoke; but Rustum answered with a smile,—
"Go to! if Iran's chiefs are old, then I
Am older. If the young are weak, the king
Errs strangely; for the king, for Kai Khosroo,
Himself is young, and honors younger men,
And lets the aged moulder to their graves.
Rustum he loves no more, but loves the young:
The young may rise at Sohrab's vaunts, not I.
For what care I, though all speak Sohrab's fame? ”

“ And, oh! with such intolerable change
⁠Of thought, such contrast strange,
O unforgotten voice, thy accents come,
Like wanderers from the world's extremity,
⁠Unto their ancient home!
In vain, all, all in vain,
They beat upon mine ear again,—
Those melancholy tones so sweet and still;
Those lute-like tones which in the bygone year
⁠Did steal into mine ear;
Blew such a thrilling summons to my will,
⁠Yet could not shake it;
Made my tost heart its very life-blood spill,
⁠Yet could not break it. ”

“ And cross the bridge of heaven, with Lok for guide,
And Fenris at his heel with broken chain;
While from the east the giant Rymer steers
His ship, and the great serpent makes to land;
And all are marshalled in one flaming square
Against the gods, upon the plains of heaven.
I mourn thee, that thou canst not help us then."
⁠He spake; but Balder answered him, and said,—
"Mourn not for me! Mourn, Hermod, for the gods;
Mourn for the men on earth, the gods in heaven,
Who live, and with their eyes shall see that day! ”

“ Rustum will surely hear it; if I fall—
Old man, the dead need no one, claim no kin.
Dim is the rumor of a common fight,
Where host meets host, and many names are sunk;
But of a single combat fame speaks clear."
⁠He spoke; and Peran-Wisa took the hand
Of the young man in his, and sighed, and said,—
⁠"O Sohrab, an unquiet heart is thine!
Canst thou not rest among the Tartar chiefs,
And share the battle's common chance with us
Who love thee, but must press forever first,
In single fight incurring single risk,
To find a father thou hast never seen? ”

“ And now thou sittest crowned by Hela's side,
Here, and hast honor among all the dead."
⁠He spake; and Balder uttered him reply,
But feebly, as a voice far off; he said,—
⁠"Hermod the nimble, gild me not my death!
Better to live a serf, a captured man,
Who scatters rushes in a master's hall,
Than be a crowned king here, and rule the dead.
And now I count not of these terms as safe
To be fulfilled, nor my return as sure,
Though I be loved, and many mourn my death;
For double-minded ever was the seed
Of Lok, and double are the gifts they give. ”

“ Am Merope, thy murder'd master's wife;
And thou art Polyphontes, first his friend,
And then ... his murderer. These offending tears
That murder moves; this breach that thou would'st close
Was by that murder open'd; that one child
(If still, indeed, he lives) whom thou would'st seat
Upon a throne not thine to give, is heir,
Because thou slew'st his brothers with their father. ”

“ ÆPYTUS.
Ill counsel, in my judgment, gives she here,
Maidens, and reads experience much amiss;
Discrediting the succor which our cause
Might from the people draw, if rightly used;
Advising us a course which would, indeed,
If follow'd, make their succor 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. ”

“ Each glistening strand, each heath-fringed bay.
The poplar avenue was passed,
And the roofed bridge that spans the stream;
Up the steep street I hurried fast,
Led by thy taper's starlike beam.
I came! I saw thee rise! the blood
Poured flushing to thy languid cheek.
Locked in each other's arms we stood,
In tears, with hearts too full to speak.
Days flew; ah, soon I could discern
A trouble in thine altered air!
Thy hand lay languidly in mine,
Thy cheek was grave, thy speech grew rare.
I blame thee not! This heart, I know,
To be long loved was never framed ”

“ Drive crashing through their bones; they feel,
High on a jutting rock in the red stream,
Alcmena's dreadful son
Ply his bow. Such a price
The gods exact for song:
To become what we sing.
They see the Indian
On his mountain lake; but squalls
Make their skiff reel, and worms
In the unkind spring have gnawn
Their melon-harvest to the heart. They see
The Scythian; but long frosts
Parch them in winter-time on the bare steppe,
Till they too fade like grass; they crawl
Like shadows forth in spring. ”

“ And Hela yield to this, and let him go!
On Balder, Death hath laid her hand, not thee;
Nor doth she count this life a price for that.
For many gods in heaven, not thou alone,
Would freely die to purchase Balder back,
And wend themselves to Hela's gloomy realm.
For not so gladsome is that life in heaven
Which gods and heroes lead, in feast and fray,
Waiting the darkness of the final times,
That one should grudge its loss for Balder's sake,—
Balder their joy, so bright, so loved a god. ”

“ Under whose hoofs the bridge o'er Giall's stream
Rumbles and shakes? Tell me thy race and home.
But yester-morn, five troops of dead passed by,
Bound on their way below to Hela's realm,
Nor shook the bridge so much as thou alone.
And thou hast flesh and color on thy cheeks,
Like men who live, and draw the vital air;
Nor look'st thou pale and wan, like men deceased,
Souls bound below, my daily passers here."
⁠And the fleet-footed Hermod answered her,—
"O damsel, Hermod am I called, the son
Of Odin; and my high-roofed house is built
Far hence, in Asgard, in the city of gods ”

“ When Sohrab dares our bravest forth, and seeks
Thee most of all, and thou, whom most he seeks,
Hidest thy face? Take heed lest men should say,—
Like some old miser, Rustum hoards his fame,
And shuns to peril it with younger men."
⁠And, greatly moved, then Rustum made reply,—
"O Gudurz, wherefore dost thou say such word?
Thou knowest better words than this to say.
What is one more, one less, obscure or famed,
Valiant or craven, young or old, to me?
Are not they mortal? am not I myself?
But who for men of naught would do great deeds?
Come, thou shalt see how Rustum hoards his fame! ”

“ To her drew Hoder near, and spake, and said,—
⁠"Mother, a child of bale thou bar'st in me!
For, first, thou barest me with blinded eyes,
Sightless and helpless, wandering weak in heaven;
And, after that, of ignorant witless mind
Thou barest me, and unforeseeing soul;
That I alone must take the branch from Lok,
The foe, the accuser, whom, though gods, we hate,
And cast it at the dear-loved Balder's breast,
At whom the gods in sport their weapons threw.
'Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm. ”

“ Saw Rustum standing safe upon his feet,
And Sohrab wounded on the bloody sand.
⁠Then, with a bitter smile, Rustum began,—
"Sohrab, thou thoughtest in thy mind to kill
A Persian lord this day, and strip his corpse,
And bear thy trophies to Afrasiab's tent;
Or else that the great Rustum would come down
Himself to fight, and that thy wiles would move
His heart to take a gift, and let thee go.
And then that all the Tartar host would praise
Thy courage or thy craft, and spread thy fame,
To glad thy father in his weak old age.
Fool, thou art slain, and by an unknown man! ”

“ There is a way which leads to Hela's realm,
Untrodden, lonely, far from light and heaven.
Who goes that way must take no other horse
To ride, but Sleipner, Odin's horse, alone.
Nor must he choose that common path of gods
Which every day they come and go in heaven,
O'er the bridge Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch,
Past Midgard fortress, down to earth and men.
But he must tread a dark untravelled road
Which branches from the north of heaven, and ride
Nine days, nine nights, toward the northern ice,
Through valleys deep-ingulfed with roaring streams. ”

“ Where sire to son transmits the unquestion'd crown,
Unhack'd, unsmirch'd, unbloodied, and have learnt
That spotless hands unshaken sceptres hold.
Having learnt this, then, use thy knowledge now.
THE CHORUS.
Which way to lean I know not: bloody strokes
Are never free from doubt, though sometimes due.
LAIAS.
O Merope, the common heart of man
Agrees to deem some deeds so dark in guilt,
That neither gratitude, nor tie of race,
Womanly pity, nor maternal fear,
Nor any pleader else, shall be indulged
To breathe a syllable to bar revenge. ”