ay?

_Merope_

To receive Arcas, who to-day should come,
Bringing me of my boy the annual news.

_The Chorus_

No certain news if like the rest it run.

_Merope_

Certain in this, that 'tis uncertain still.

_The Chorus_

What keeps him in Arcadia from return?

_Merope_

His grandsire and his uncles fear the risk.

_The Chorus_

Of what? it lies with them to make risk none.

_Merope_

Discovery of a visit made by stealth.

_The Chorus_

With arms then they should send him, not by stealth.

_Merope_

With arms they dare not, and by stealth they fear.

_The Chorus_

I doubt their caution little suits their ward.

_Merope_

The heart of youth I know; that most I fear.

_The Chorus_

I augur thou wilt hear some bold resolve.

_Merope_

I dare not wish it; but, at least, to hear
That my son still survives, in health, in bloom;
To hear that still he loves, still longs for, me,
Yet, with a light uncareworn spirit, turns
Quick from distressful thought, and floats in joy--
Thus much from Arcas, my old servant true,
Who saved him from these murderous halls a babe,
And since has fondly watch'd him night and day
Save for this annual charge, I hope to hear.
If this be all, I know not; but I know,
These many years I live for this alone.

[MEROPE _goes in_.

_The Chorus_

Much is there which the sea _str._ 1.
Conceals from man, who cannot plumb its depths.
Air to his unwing'd form denies a way,
And keeps its liquid solitudes unscaled.
Even earth, whereon he treads,
So feeble is his march, so slow,
Holds countless tracts untrod.

But more than all unplumb'd, _ant._ 1.
Unscaled, untrodden, is the heart of man.
More than all secrets hid, the way it keeps.
Nor any of our organs so obtuse,
Inaccurate, and frail,
As those wherewith we try to test
Feelings and motives there.

Yea, and not only have we not explored _str._ 2.
That wide and various world, the heart of others,
But even our own heart, that narrow world
Bounded in our own breast, we hardly know,
Of our own actions dimly trace the causes.
Whether a natural obscureness, hiding
That region in perpetual cloud,
Or our own want of effort, be