And now to thee, O son, thy mother turns 500 With prayers and tears. At last I see thy face Which long have I desired and prayed to see.
Thee, as an exile from thy fatherland, The household of a foreign king protects; O'er many seas, by many chances driven, Thou'rt still a wanderer. It was not mine With stately train to lead thee to thy bride, 505 With my own hand to deck the festal halls, And with sacred fillets wreathe thy wedding torch.
The father of thy bride no wedding gifts, No wealth of gold, has given, no fields, no towns; Thy only gift is war. A foeman's son 510 Hast thou become, far from thy native land, An alien household's guest, driven from thine own, Committed to another's interests, A sinless exile. That no element Might fail thee of thy father's hapless fate, Thou too hast blundered in thy marriage choice.
O son, after so many years returned, 515 O son, thy anxious mother's hope and fear, For sight of whom I ever prayed the gods; Though thy return was doomed to take from me As much as at thy coming it could give: "When shall I cease to fear for thee?" I said; 520 The mocking god replied: "Him shalt thou fear."
I should not have thee near me now, indeed, Were there no war; and there would be no war, If thou wert not at hand. Oh, bitter price And hard, that I must pay for sight of thee.
But still there's pleasure in't. These hostile hosts-- 525 Let them withdraw a little space from here, While yet stern Mars dares no impiety.
Yet this as well is great impiety, That they have been so near. I am appalled, And tremble when I see two brothers stand, Each fronting each, upon the brink of crime. 530 My limbs do quake with fear. How near I came To seeing greater infamy than that Which thy poor father never could have seen!
Though I am freed from fear of such a crime, Though I shall not behold such evil now, Still am I most unhappy when I think How nearly I beheld it. O my son, By the womb that bore thee through ten weary months, 535 And by thy noble sister's piety; By thy unhappy father's sightless eyes, Which he, though innocent of any crime, Tore out, his fatal error to avenge: Turn from thy father's walls these impious brands, 540 Send back the standards of this warring host.
Though thou shouldst yield, still is the greater part Of thy impiety already done: Thy fatherland has seen its fertile plains By hordes of hostile soldiery o'errun, The arméd legions gleaming from afar, 545 The broad Cadmean meadows trampled down By flying hoofs, the princes, insolent, High in their chariots dashing o'er the plain, The blazing torches threatening our homes With utter devastation, and, a crime Which even Thebes till now has never seen, A brother 'gainst his brother waging war.
This crime was seen by all our Theban host; 550 The citizens and both thy sisters saw, And I thy mother; to himself is due That Oedipus, thy father, saw it not.
Oh, do thou but compare thyself with him, By whose stern judgment fitting penalty E'en error pays. Do not with impious sword 555 Destroy thy city and thy father's house, Nor overthrow the city thou wouldst rule.
What madness holds its sway within thy soul?
Wouldst thou, by seeking to obtain the land, Destroy it? That it may become thine own, Dost thou intend to spoil it utterly?
To thine own cause thou doest deadly wrong, In harrying this very soil of thine 560 With hostile arms, in laying low the crops, And spreading fear through all the country round.
No one such devastation ever works Upon his own. What thou dost burn with fire, And reap with sword, 'tis plain that thou dost grant To be another's. Gain thou then the throne, Whichever of you will; but gain it so That 'twill not be the kingdom's overthrow. 565 Dost seek these homes with hostile sword and brand?
Wilt thou avail to batter down these walls Which great Amphion built, these mighty walls, Whose stones no human hand e'er set in place, The huge weights moving by the creaking crane-- But, marshaled by the strains of song and harp, The stones, e'en to the topmost turret's round, 570 Moved of their own accord--wouldst shatter these?
As victor wilt thou bear away the spoils?
And shall rough soldiery lead off in chains Thy father's noble friends and stately dames Torn from their grieving husbands' very arms?
And, mingled with the wretched captive band, 575 Shall Theban maidens go as presents meet For wives of Argos? And shall I myself, My hands (disgraceful!) bound behind my back, The mother, be the booty of the son, In triumph borne? And canst thou bear to see On every hand thy fellow-citizens To dire destruction given? 'Gainst these dear walls 580 Canst thou lead on the savage enemy, And fill thy native Thebes with blood and flame?
Hast thou so wild a heart within thy breast, So hard and savage--and not yet a king?
Then what will't be when thou the scepter wield'st?
Oh, put aside thy spirit's swelling rage, And give thyself once more to piety. 585 _Polynices:_ That I may wander still a fugitive?
That ever, banished from my native land, Upon a stranger's bounty I may live?
What, think'st thou, could I suffer more than this, If I had broken faith or falsely sworn?
Shall I be punished for another's sin, While he enjoys the profits of his crime? 590 Thou bid'st me go; and gladly would I yield Unto my mother's will. But whither, then, Shall I depart? "Let my proud brother dwell Within my royal halls, and some poor hut Be my abode": let such a boon be given Unto the exile; give him in exchange A hovel for a throne. And shall I, then, 595 A pensioner upon my wealthy bride, Be forced to yield to her unbending will, And to her father's domineering ways Submit like any slave? 'Tis hard, indeed, To fall from royalty to servitude.
_Jocasta:_ If thou art eager for a royal throne, And if, without the scepter in thy hand, Thou canst not live, whatever land thou wilt 600 Will offer many kingdoms to thy hand.
On this side Tmolus lifts his ridgy heights, Well known to Bacchus, where wide-spreading plains Stretch out upon the grain-producing earth; And where Pactolus' all-enriching stream O'erflows the country with its sands of gold.
And there Maeander through the joyful fields 605 Directs his wandering waves; swift Hermus, too, Cleaves meadows rich. And there is Gargara, Beloved of Ceres, and the fertile plains Which Xanthus waters, fed by Ida's snows.
And here, where ends the long Ionian sea,[8] 610 Across the narrows from Abydos stands The Thracian Sestos. Farther to the east, With safe and numerous harbors, lies the land Of Lycia. There realms seek with thy sword; Against these peoples let Adrastus fight, And to thy sceptered hand deliver them. 615 Consider that thy father still is king Within this realm of Thebes. Far better, then, Than such returns as this will exile seem.
Thou liv'st in exile through another's sin; But thy return must be through thine alone.
With those brave troops of thine 'twere better far To seek thee out new realms unstained by crime. 620 Nay, e'en thy brother's self will be thy aid, And fight for thee. Go, wage such warfare, then, That, as thou fight'st, thy mother and thy sire May pray for thy success. For, be assured, That kingdoms won by crime are heavier far Than any exile. 625 Now consider well The woes of war and war's uncertainties: Though thou dost bring with thee the flower of Greece, Though far and near thy arméd soldiery Is spread, still ever in the balance hangs The fate of war. 'Tis all as Mars decides.
Though two may seem to be unmatched in strength, 630 The sword will make them equal; hope and fear Are subject to the blind caprice of fate.
Uncertain is the prize of war thou seek'st, But sure the crime. Suppose that all the gods Have heard thy prayers; suppose the citizens, In panic fear, have turned their backs and fled; The soldiers' bloody corpses hide the plain: 635 Though in such victory thou shouldst exalt And bear thy murdered brother's spoils away, Thy victory is but a broken thing.
What sort of warfare, think'st thou, that would be, In which the victor wins by curséd crime, And glories in it? Nay, thy brother's self, Whom thou, unhappy man, dost seek to slay, 640 When thou hast gained thy wish, thou wilt lament.
Oh, then, forego this most unhallowed strife, And free at last thy fatherland from fear, Thy parents from their grief.
_Polynices:_ Shall I do this, That so for all his treachery and crime My curséd brother be not recompensed?
_Jocasta:_ Fear not. He shall indeed be recompensed, 645 For he shall reign.
_Polynices:_ Is that a punishment?
_Jocasta:_ If thou believe me not, believe thy sire, Believe thy grandsire too. This truth to thee Will Cadmus and the house of Cadmus tell.
Without disaster has no Theban king E'er held the scepter, nor will anyone Who wins the kingly power by broken faith Retain it long. And 'mongst those faithless ones 650 Count now thy brother.
_Eteocles:_ Be it even so: If I must die, I count it worthy death, To die with kings.
[_To_ Polynices.]
Thee to the exiled band I doom.
_Jocasta:_ Reign then, but hated by thy friends.
_Eteocles:_ Who shrinks from hatred does not wish to reign.
That great divinity who made the world 655 Made of one substance royalty and hate.
For me, I count it worthy of a king To overcome this hate. By love of friends Too oft is royal power circumscribed.
O'er those who hate him is the king more free To lord it as he will. Who would be loved, With but a weak and languid scepter reigns.
_Jocasta:_ But hated empire never long endures. 660 _Eteocles:_ 'Tis for the king to speak of empire's rules.
Do thou give laws for exiles. For the throne-- _Jocasta:_ Wouldst burn thy native land, thy home and all?
_Eteocles:_ A kingdom is well bought at any price.
* * * * * FOOTNOTES: [8] The text is corrupt here. The Ionian Sea, situated to the west of Greece, can have no possible connection with the region here described, i. e., the Hellespont.
MEDEA MEDEA DRAMATIS PERSONAE MEDEA Daughter of Aeëtes, King of Colchis, and wife of Jason.
_Jason_ Son of Aeson, and nephew of Pelias, the usurping king of Thessaly; organizer and leader of the Argonautic expedition to Colchis in quest of the golden fleece.
_Creon_ King of Corinth, who had received into his hospitable kingdom Medea and Jason, fugitives from Thessaly, after Medea had plotted the death of Pelias.
_Nurse_ Of Medea.
_Chorus of Corinthians_ Friendly to Jason and hostile to Medea.
THE TIME of the play is confined to the single day of the culmination of the tragedy, the day proposed by Creon for the banishment of Medea and marriage of Jason to Creüsa, daughter of Creon.
THE SCENE is in Corinth, in the court of the house of Jason.
_Although the play is confined in time to the final day of catastrophe at Corinth, the background is the whole romantic story of the Argonauts: how Jason and his hero-comrades, at the instigation of Pelias, the usurping king of Thessalian Iolchos, undertook the first voyage in quest of the golden fleece; how, after many adventures, these first sailors reached the kingdom of Aeëtes who jealously guarded the fleece, since upon its possession depended his own kingship; how the three deadly labors were imposed upon Jason before the fleece could be won--the yoking of the fiery bulls, the contest with the giants that sprang from the sown serpent's teeth, and the overcoming of the sleepless dragon that ever guarded the fleece; how, smitten by love of him, the beautiful, barbaric Medea, daughter of the king, by the help of her magic aided Jason in all these labors and accompanied him in his flight; how, to retard her father's pursuit she slew her brother and scattered his mangled remains in the path as they fled; how again, for love of Jason, she restored his father to youth and tricked Pelias' own daughters into slaying their agéd sire; how, for this act, Medea with her husband were exiled from Thessalia and dwelt in Corinth; how, for ten happy years, she lived with her husband and two sons in this alien land, her wild past almost forgotten, her magic untouched._ _But now, Jason has been gradually won away from his wife, and is about to wed Creüsa, the daughter of Creon, king of Corinth. The wedding festivities have already begun when the play opens and reveals Medea invoking all the powers of heaven and hell in punishment of her false lord._ ACT I _Medea:_ Ye gods of wedlock, thou the nuptial couch's guard, Lucina, thou from whom that tamer of the deep, The Argo's pilot, learned to guide his pristine bark, And Neptune, thou stern ruler of the ocean's depths, And Titan, by whose rays the shining day is born, 5 Thou triformed maiden Hecate, whose conscious beams With splendor shine upon the mystic worshipers-- Upon ye all I call, the powers of heaven, the gods By whose divinity false Jason swore; and ye Whose aid Medea may more boldly claim, thou world Of endless night, th' antipodes of heavenly realms, Ye damnéd ghosts, thou lord of hades' dark domain, 10 Whose mistress was with trustier pledge won to thy side-- Before ye all this baleful prayer I bring: Be near!
Be near! Ye crime-avenging furies, come and loose Your horrid locks with serpent coils entwined, and grasp With bloody hands the smoking torch; be near as once 15 Ye stood in dread array beside my wedding couch.
Upon this new-made bride destruction send, and death Upon the king and all the royal line! But he, My husband, may he live to meet some heavier doom; This curse I imprecate upon his head; may he, Through distant lands, in want, in exile wander, scorned 20 And houseless. Nay, may he once more my favor woo; A stranger's threshold may he seek where now he walks May children rise to him to emulate their sire, Their mother's image bear.--Now won is vengeance, won!
For I have children borne.--Nay, nay, 'tis empty plaints 25 And useless words I frame. Shall I not rather rush Against the foe and dash the torches from their hands, The light from heaven? Does Father Phoebus suffer this?
Do men behold his face, as, seated in his car, He rolls along th' accustomed track of sky serene? 30 Why does he not return to morning's gates, the law Of heaven reversing? Grant that I be borne aloft In my ancestral car! Give me the reins, O sire, Thy fiery team grant me to guide with lines of flame.
Then Corinth, though with double shore delaying fate, 35 Herself consumed with fire, shall light two seas with flame.
But no, this course alone remains, that I myself Should bear the wedding torch, with acquiescent prayers, And slay the victims on the altars consecrate.
Thyself inspect the entrails, and seek there the way 40 By prayer, if still, O soul, thou livest, if there still Remaineth aught of old-time strength in thee! Away With woman's fears! Put on thy heart a breast-plate hard And chill as Caucasus! Then all the wizard arts That Phasis knew, or Pontus, shall be seen again In Corinth. Now with mad, unheard of, dreadful deeds, 45 Whereat high heaven and earth below shall pale and quake, My pregnant soul is teeming; and my heart is full Of pictured wounds and death and slaughter.--Ah, too long On trifling ills I dwell. These were my virgin deeds.
Now that a mother's pains I've felt, my larger heart 50 Must larger crimes conceive. Then passion, gird thyself, Put on thy strength, and for the issue now prepare!
Let my rejection pay as dread a fee as when, Of old, through impious deeds of blood, I came to him.
Come, break through slow delay, and let the home once won By crime, by equal deeds of crime be done away! 55 _Chorus_ [_chanting the epithalamium for the nuptials of_ Jason _and_ Creüsa]: Now on our royal nuptials graciously smiling, Here may the lords of heaven and the deeps of the ocean Come while the people feast in pious rejoicing!
First to the gods who sway the scepter of heaven, Pealing forth their will in the voice of thunder, Let the white bull his proud head bow in tribute. 60 Then to the fair Lucina, her gift we offer, White as the driven snow, this beautiful heifer, Still with her neck untouched by the yoke of bondage.
Thou who alone canst rule the heart of the war-god, Thou who linkest in peace the opposing nations, Out of thy generous hand abundance pouring-- 65 Thee we offer a daintier gift, O Concord!
Thou who, on the marriage torches attending, Night's dark gloom with favoring hand dispellest, Hither come with languishing footstep drunken, Binding thy temples fair with garlands of roses! 70 Star of the evening, thou who to twilight leadest The day, and hailest again the dawn of the morning, All too slowly thou com'st for lovers impatient, Eager to see thy sign in the glow of the sunset.
The fairest of girls is she, 75 The Athenian maids outshining, Or the Spartan maiden with armor laden, No burden of war declining.
Not by Alpheus' sacred stream, Nor Boeotia's musical water, Is there any fair who can compare 80 With our lovely Corinthian daughter.
Our Thessalian prince excels, In beauty of form and face, Even Bacchus, the son of the fierce-flaming one, Who yokes the wild tigers in place. 85 The murmuring tripod's lord, Though the fairest in heavenly story, The twins with their star bright gleaming afar-- All yield to our Jason in glory. 90 When in her train of courtly maidens she mingles-- Like the bright sunshine paling the starry splendor, 95 Or the full moonlight quenching the Pleiads' brilliance, So does she shine, all peerless, of fair ones the fairest.
Now, O Jason, freed from the hateful wedlock 100 That held thee bound to the barbarous Colchian woman, Joyfully wed the fair Corinthian maiden, While at last her parents' blessings attend thee. 105 Ho then, youths, with licensed jest and rejoicing, Loud let the songs of gladness ring through the city; Rarely against our lords such freedom is given.
Fair and noble band of Bacchus, the thyrsus-bearer, 110 Now is the time to light the glittering torches of pinewood.
Shake on high the festal fire with languishing fingers; Now let the bold and merry Fescennine laughter and jesting Sound through our ranks. Let Medea fare in silence and darkness, If perchance another lord she shall wed in her exile. 115 ACT II _Medea:_ We are undone! How harsh upon mine ears doth grate The song! and even now I cannot comprehend The vast extent of woe that hath befallen me.
Could Jason prove so false? Bereft of native land, And home, and kingdom, could he leave me here alone On foreign shores? Oh, cruel, could he quite reject 120 My sum of service, he who saw the fire and sea With crime o'ercome for his dear sake? And does he think That thus the fatal chapter can be ended? Wild, Devoid of reason, sick of soul, my swift mind darts In all directions seeking whence revenge may come!
I would he had a brother! But his wife--'gainst her 125 Be aimed the blow! Can thus my wrongs be satisfied?
Nay, nay--to meet my sum of woe must be heaped high The crimes of Greece, of strange barbaric lands, and those Which even thy hands have not known. Now lash thy soul With memory's scourge, and call thy dark deeds in review: 130 The glory of thy father's kingdom reft away; Thy brother, guiltless comrade of thy guilty flight, All hewn in pieces and his corpse strewn on the deep, To break his royal father's heart; and, last of crimes, Old Pelias by his daughters slain at thy command. 135 O impious one, what streams of blood have flowed to work Thy ends! And yet, not one of all my crimes by wrath Was prompted. Love, ill-omened love, suggested all.
Yet, what could Jason else have done, compelled to serve Another's will, another's law? He should have died Before he yielded to the tyrant's will. Nay, nay, 140 Thou raging passion, speak not so! For, if he may, I would that Jason still may live and still be mine, As once he was; if not, yet may he still live on, And, mindful of my merits, live without my aid.
The guilt is Creon's all, who with unbridled power Dissolves the marriage bond, my children separates 145 From me who bore them, yea, and makes the strongest pledge, Though ratified with straightest oath, of none effect.
Let him alone sustain my wrath; let Creon pay The debt of guilt he owes! His palace will I bring To utter desolation; and the whirling fire To far-off Malea's crags shall send its lurid glare. 150 _Nurse:_ Be silent now, I pray thee, and thy plaints confine To secret woe! The man who heavy blows can bear In silence, biding still his time with patient soul, Full oft his vengeance gains. 'Tis hidden wrath that harms; But hate proclaimed oft loses half its power to harm.
_Medea:_ But small the grief is that can counsel take and hide Its head; great ills lie not in hiding, but must rush 155 Abroad and work their will.
_Nurse:_ Oh, cease this mad complaint, My mistress; scarce can friendly silence help thee now.
_Medea:_ But fortune fears the brave, the faint of heart o'erwhelms.
_Nurse:_ Then valor be approved, if for it still there's room. 160 _Medea:_ But it must always be that valor finds its place.
_Nurse:_ No star of hope points out the way from these our woes.
_Medea:_ The man who hopes for naught at least has naught to fear.
_Nurse:_ The Colchians are thy foes; thy husband's vows have failed; Of all thy vast possessions not a jot is left. 165 _Medea:_ Yet I am left. There's left both sea and land and fire And sword and gods and hurtling thunderbolts.
_Nurse:_ The king must be revered.
_Medea:_ My father was a king.
_Nurse:_ Dost thou not fear?
_Medea:_ Not though the earth produced the foe.
_Medea:_ So I wish it.
_Nurse:_ Flee!
Why should Medea flee?
_Nurse:_ Thy children!
_Medea:_ Whose, thou know'st.
_Nurse:_ And dost thou still delay?
_Medea:_ I go, but vengeance first.
_Nurse:_ Th' avenger will pursue.
_Medea:_ Perchance I'll stop his course.
_Nurse:_ Nay, hold thy words, and cease thy threats, O foolish one.
Thy temper curb; 'tis well to yield to fate's decrees. 175 _Medea:_ Though fate may strip me of all my, myself am left.
But who flings wide the royal palace doors? Behold, 'Tis Creon's self, exalted high in Grecian sway.
[Medea _retires to back of stage; exit_ Nurse; _enter_ Creon.]
_Creon:_ Medea, baleful daughter of the Colchian king, Has not yet taken her hateful presence from our realm. 180 On mischief is she bent. Well known her treach'rous power.
For who escapes her? Who may pass his days in peace?
This curséd pestilence at once would I have stayed By force of arms; but Jason's prayers prevailed. She still May live, but let her free my borders from the fear 185 Her presence genders, and her safety gain by flight.
But lo, she comes, with fierce and threatening mien, to seek An audience with us.
[_To attendants._] Slaves defend us from her touch And pestilential presence! Bid her silence keep, And learn to yield obedience to the king's commands. 190 [_To_ Medea.]
Go, speed thy flight, thou thing of evil, fell, and monstrous!
_Medea:_ But tell me what the crime, my lord, or what the guilt That merits exile?
_Creon:_ Let the guiltless question thus.
_Medea:_ If now thou judgest, hear me; if thou reign'st, command.[10] _Creon:_ The king's command thou must abide, nor question aught. 195 _Medea:_ Unrighteous sovereignty has never long endured.
_Creon:_ Go hence, and to the Colchians complain.
_Medea:_ I go, But let him take me hence who brought me to thy shores.
_Creon:_ Thy prayer has come too late, for fixed is my decree.
_Medea:_ Who judges, and denies his ear to either side, Though right his judgment, still is he himself unjust. 200 _Creon:_ Didst lend thine ear to Pelias, ere thou judgedst him?
But come, I'll give thee grace to plead thy goodly cause.
_Medea:_ How hard the task to turn the soul from wrath, when once To wrath inclined; how 'tis the creed of sceptered kings To swerve not from the purposed course they once have taken, 205 Full well I know, for I have tasted royalty.
For, though by present storms of ill I'm overwhelmed, An exile, suppliant, lone, forsaken, all forlorn, I once in happier times a royal princess shone, And traced my proud descent from heavenly Phoebus' self. 210 My father's realm extended wide o'er all the land Where Phasis' gentle waters flow, o'er Scythia's plains Whose rivers sweeten Pontus' briny waves; where, too, Thermodon's banks inclose the race of warlike maids, Whose gleaming shields strike terror to their foes. All this 215 My father held in sway. And I, of noble birth, And blessed of heaven, in royal state was high upraised.
Then princes humbly sought my hand in wedlock, mine, Who now must sue. O changeful fortune, thou my throne 220 Hast reft away, and given me exile in its stead.
Trust not in kingly realms, since fickle chance may strew Their treasures to the winds. Lo, this is regal, this The work of kings, which time nor change cannot undo: To succor the afflicted, to provide at need 225 A trusty refuge for the suppliant. This alone I brought of all my Colchian treasure, this renown, This very flower of fame,[11] that by my arts I saved The bulwark of the Greeks, the offspring of the gods.
My princely gift to Greece is Orpheus, that sweet bard 230 Who can the trees in willing bondage draw, and melt The crag's hard heart. Mine too are Boreas' wingéd sons, And Leda's heaven-born progeny, and Lynceus, he, Whose glance can pierce the distant view--yea, all the Greeks, Save Jason; for I mention not the king of kings, The leader of the leaders; he is mine alone, My labor's recompense; the rest I give to you. 235 Nay, come, O king, arraign me, and rehearse my crimes.
But stay! for I'll confess them all. The only crime Of which I stand accused is this--the Argo saved.
Suppose my maiden scruples had opposed the deed; Suppose my filial piety had stayed my hand: Then had the mighty chieftains fall'n, and in their fate All Greece had been o'erwhelmed; then this, thy son-in-law, 240 Had felt the bull's consuming breath, and perished there.
Nay, nay, let fortune, when she will, my doom decree; I glory still that kings have owed their lives to me.
But what reward I reap for all my glorious deeds Is in thy hands. Convict me, if thou wilt, of sin, 245 But give him back for whom I sinned. O Creon, see, I own that I am guilty. This much thou didst know, When first I clasped thy knees, a humble suppliant, And sought the shelter of thy royal clemency.
Some little corner of thy kingdom now I ask, In which to hide my grief. If I must flee again, 250 Oh, let some nook remote within thy broad domain Be found for me!
_Creon:_ That I my power in mercy wield, And spurn not those who seek my aid let Jason's self My witness be, who, exiled, overwhelmed by fate, 255 And smitten sore with fear, a refuge found with me.
For Io, Thessalia's monarch, bent on vengeance dire, Seeks Jason at my hand. The cause, indeed, is just: For that his sire, o'erburdened with the weight of years, Was foully taken off, while by thy wicked guile 260 His guileless sisters' hands were nerved to do the deed.
If now our Jason can unlink his cause from thine, 'Tis easy his defense to make, for on his hands No stain of blood is found. His arm no sword upraised, And he has had no part nor lot in this thy crime. 265 No, thou and thou alone the arch contriver art, Uniting in thy person woman's fertile wit And man's effective strength; while in thy reckless heart No thought of reputation dwells to check thy hand.
Then go thou hence and purge our kingdom of its stain; Bear hence thy deadly poisons; free the citizens 270 From fear; abiding in some other land than this, Outwear the patience of the gods.
_Medea:_ Thou bid'st me flee?
Then give me back my bark wherein to flee. Restore The partner of my flight! Why should I flee alone?
I came not thus. Or if avenging war thou fear'st, Then banish both the culprits; why distinguish me 275 From Jason? 'Twas for him old Pelias was o'ercome; For him the flight, the plunder of my father's realm, My sire forsaken and my infant brother slain, And all the guilt that love suggests; 'twas all for him.
Deep dyed in sin am I, but on my guilty soul 280 The sin of profit lieth not.
_Creon:_ Why seek delay By speech? Too long thou tarriest.
_Medea:_ I go, but grant This last request: let not the mother's fall o'erwhelm Her hapless babes.
_Creon:_ Then go in peace. For I to them A father's place will fill, and take them to my heart.
_Medea:_ Now by the fair hopes born upon this wedding day, 285 And by thy hopes of lasting sovereignty secure From changeful fate's assault, I pray thee grant from flight A respite brief, while I upon my children's lips A mother's kiss imprint, perchance the last.
_Creon:_ A time Thou seek'st for treachery. 290 _Medea:_ What fraud can be devised In one short hour?
_Creon:_ To those on mischief bent, be sure, The briefest time is fraught with mischief's fatal power.
_Medea:_ Dost thou refuse me, then, one little space for tears?
_Creon:_ Though deep-ingrafted fear would fain resist thy plea, A single day I'll give thee ere my sentence holds. 295 _Medea:_ Too gracious thou. But let my respite further shrink, And I'll depart content.
_Creon:_ Thy life shall surely pay The forfeit if tomorrow's sun beholds thee still In Corinth. But the voice of Hymen calls away To solemnize the rites of this his festal day. 300 [_Exeunt._] * * * * * _Chorus:_ Too bold the man who first upon the seas, The treacherous seas, his fragile bark confided; Who, as the well-known shore behind him glided, His life intrusted to the fickle breeze; And, as his unknown seaward course he sped 305 Within his slender craft with foolish daring, Midway 'twixt life and death went onward faring, Along the perilous narrow margin led.
Not yet were sparkling constellations known, Or sky, all spangled with the starry glory; 310 Not yet could sailors read the warning story By stormy Hyades upon the heavens thrown.
Not yet was Zeus's foster-mother famed, Nor slow Boötes round the north star wheeling; 315 Nor Boreas nor Zephyr gently stealing, Each feared or welcomed, though as yet unnamed.
First Tiphys dared to spread his venturous sail, The hidden lesson of the breezes learning, Now all his canvas to the Zephyrs turning, 320 Now shifting all to catch the changing gale.
Now midway on the mast the yard remains, Now at the head with all its canvas drawing, While eager sailors lure the breezes blowing, And over all the gleaming topsail strains. 325 The guiltless golden age our fathers saw, When youth and age the same horizon bounded; No greed of gain their simple hearts confounded; Their native wealth enough, 'twas all they knew. 330 But lo, the severed worlds have been brought near And linked in one by Argo's hand uniting; While seas endure the oar's unwonted smiting, 335 And add their fury to the primal fear.
This impious bark its guilt in dread atoned 340 When clashing mountains were together driven, And sea, from sea in mighty conflict riven, The stars besprinkled with the leaping foam. 345 Amid these perils sturdy Tiphys paled, And from his nerveless hand the vessel bounded; While stricken Orpheus' lyre no more resounded,