Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/383

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MEROPE.
345

Wake amid gloom, and howling, and the noise
Of sinners pinion'd on the torturing wheel,
And the stanch Furies' never-silent scourge.
And bid the chief tormentors there provide
For 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 son
Take ——

[Merope advances towards the sleeping Æpytus, with the axe uplifted. At the same moment Arcas re-enters.


ARCAS (to THE CHORUS).

Not with him to council did the King
Carry his messenger, but left him here.

[Sees Merope and Æpytus.


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 captive
To the dear next-of-kin of him he murder'd.
Stand, and let vengeance pass!