Part 8

_Medea:_ Thou see'st, Jason, that we flee. 'Tis no new thing To suffer exile, but the cause of flight is strange; For with thee I was wont to flee, not from thee. Yes, I go. But whither dost thou send me whom thou driv'st 450 From out thy home? Shall I the Colchians seek again, My royal father's realm, whose soil is steeped in blood My brother shed? What country dost thou bid me seek? What way by sea is open? Shall I fare again Where once I saved the noble kings of Greece, and thee, 455 Thou wanton, through the threatening jaws of Pontus' strait, The blue Symplegades? Or shall I hie me back To fair Thessalia's realms? Lo, all the doors which I, For thee, have opened wide, I've closed upon myself. But whither dost thou send me now? Thou bid'st me flee, 460 But show'st no way or means of flight. But 'tis enough: The king's own son-in-law commands and I obey. Come, heap thy torments on me; I deserve them all. Let royal wrath oppress me, wanton that I am, With cruel hand, and load my guilty limbs with chains; And let me be immured in dungeons black as night: 465 Still will my punishment be less than my offense. O ingrate! hast thou then forgot the brazen bull, And his consuming breath? the fear that smote thee, when, Upon the field of Mars, the earth-born brood stood forth To meet thy single sword? 'Twas by my arts that they, 470 The monsters, fell by mutual blows. Remember, too, The long-sought fleece of gold I won for thee, whose guard, The dragon huge, was lulled to rest at my command; My brother slain for thee. For thee old Pelias fell, 475 When, taken by my guile, his daughters slew their sire, Whose life could not return. All this I did for thee. In quest of thine advantage have I quite forgot Mine own. And now, by all thy fond paternal hopes, By thine established house, by all the monsters slain 480 For thee, by these my hands which I have ever held To work thy will, by all the perils past, by heaven And sea that witnessed at my wedlock, pity me! Since thou art blessed, restore me what I lost for thee: That countless treasure plundered from the swarthy tribes Of India, which filled our goodly vaults with wealth, 485 And decked our very trees with gold. This costly store I left for thee, my native land, my brother, sire, My reputation--all; and with this dower I came. If now to homeless exile thou dost send me forth, Give back the countless treasures which I left for thee. 490

_Jason:_ Though Creon in a vengeful mood would have thy life, I moved him by my tears to grant thee flight instead.

_Medea:_ I thought my exile punishment; 'tis now, I see, A gracious boon!

_Jason:_ Oh, flee while still the respite holds; Provoke him not, for deadly is the wrath of kings. 495

_Medea:_ Not so. 'Tis for Creüsa's love thou sayest this; Thou wouldst remove the hated wanton once thy wife.

_Jason:_ Dost thou reproach me with a guilty love?

_Medea:_ Yea, that, And murder too, and treachery.

_Jason:_ But name me now, If so thou canst, the crimes that I have done.

_Medea:_ Thy crimes-- Whatever I have done.

_Jason:_ Why then, in truth, thy guilt Must all be mine, if all thy crimes are mine. 500

_Medea:_ They are, They are all thine; for who by sin advantage gains, Commits the sin. All men proclaim thy wife defiled. Do thou thyself protect her, and condone her sin. Let her be guiltless in thine eyes who for thy gain Has sinned.

_Jason:_ But gifts which sin has bought 'twere shame to take.

_Medea:_ Why keep'st thou then the gifts which it were shame to take? 505

_Jason:_ Nay, curb thy fiery soul! Thy children--for their sake Be calm.

_Medea:_ My children! Them I do refuse, reject, Renounce! Shall then Creüsa brothers bear to these My children?

_Jason:_ But the queen can aid thy wretched sons.

_Medea:_ May that day never dawn, that day of shame and woe, 510 When in one house are joined the low born and the high, The sons of that foul robber Sisyphus, and these, The sons of Phoebus.

_Jason:_ Wretched one, and wilt thou then Involve me also in thy fall? Begone, I pray.

_Medea:_ Creon hath heard my prayer.

_Jason:_ What wouldst thou have me do? 515

_Medea:_ For me? I'd have thee dare the law.

_Jason:_ The royal power Doth compass me.

_Medea:_ A greater than the king is here: Medea. Set us front to front and let us strive; And of this royal strife let Jason be the prize.

_Jason:_ O'erwearied by my woes I yield. But be thou ware, Medea, lest too often thou shouldst tempt thy fate. 520

_Medea:_ Yet fortune's mistress have I ever been.

_Jason:_ But see, With hostile front Acastus comes, on vengeance bent, While Creon threatens instant death.

_Medea:_ Then flee them both. I ask thee not to draw thy sword against the king Nor yet to stain thy pious hands with kindred blood. Come, flee with me.

_Jason:_ But what resistance can we make, 525 If war with double visage rear his horrid front, If Creon and Acastus join in common cause?

_Medea:_ Add, too, the Colchian armies with my father's self To lead them; join the Scythian and Pelasgian hordes: In one deep gulf of ruin will I whelm them all.

_Jason:_ Yet on the scepter do I look with fear.

_Medea:_ Beware, Lest not the fear, but lust of power prevail with thee.

_Jason:_ Too long we strive: have done, lest we suspicion breed. 530

_Medea:_ Now Jove, throughout thy heavens let the thunders roll! Thy mighty arm in wrath make bare! Thy darting flames Of vengeance loose, and shake the lofty firmament With rending storms! At random hurl thy vengeful bolts, Selecting neither me nor Jason with thy aim; That thus whoever falls may perish with the brand 535 Of guilt upon him; for thy hurtling darts can take No erring flight.

_Jason:_ Recall thee and in calmness speak With words of peace and reason. Then if any gift From Creon's royal house can compensate thy woes, Take that as solace of thy flight.

_Medea:_ My soul doth scorn 540 The wealth of kings. But let me have my little ones As comrades of my flight, that in their childish breasts Their mother's tears may flow. New sons await thy home.

_Jason:_ My heart inclines to yield to thee, but love forbids. For these my sons shall never from my arms be reft, 545 Though Creon's self demand. My very spring of life, My sore heart's comfort, and my joy are these my sons; And sooner could I part with limbs or vital breath, Or light of life.

_Medea_ [_aside_]: Doth he thus love his sons? 'Tis well; Then is he bound, and in his armored strength this flaw 550 Reveals the place to strike. [_To_ Jason.] At least, ere I depart, Grant me this last request: let me once more embrace My sons. E'en that small boon will comfort my sad heart. And this my latest prayer to thee: if, in my grief, My tongue was over bold, let not my words remain 555 To rankle in thy heart. Remember happier things Of me and let my bitter words be straight forgot.

_Jason:_ Not one shall linger in my soul; and curb, I pray, Thy too impetuous heart, and gently yield to fate. For resignation ever soothes the woeful soul.

[_Exit_ Jason.]

_Medea:_ He's gone! And can it be? And shall he thus depart, 560 Forgetting me and all my service? Must I drop, Like some discarded toy, out of his faithless heart? It shall not be. Up then, and summon all thy strength And all thy skill! And, this the fruit of former crime, Count nothing criminal that works thy will. But lo, We're hedged about; scant room is left for our designs. 565 Now must the attack be made where least suspicion wakes The least resistance. Now Medea, on! and do And dare thine utmost, yea, beyond thine utmost power! [_To the_ Nurse.] Do thou, my faithful nurse, the comrade of my grief, And all the devious wanderings of my checkered course, Assist me now in these my plans. There is a robe, The glory of our Colchian realm, the precious gift 570 Of Phoebus' self to king Aeëtes as a proof Of fatherhood; a gleaming circlet, too, all wrought With threads of gold, the yellow gold bespangled o'er With gems, a fitting crown to deck a princess' head. These treasures let Medea's children bear as gifts 575 To Jason's bride. But first infuse them with the power Of magic, and invoke the aid of Hecate; The woe-producing sacrifices then prepare, And let the sacred flames through all our courts resound.

_Chorus:_ No force of flame or raging gale, Or whizzing bolt so fearful is, 580 As when a wife, by her lord betrayed, Burns hot with hate.

Not such a force is Auster's blast, When he marshals forth the wintry storms; Nor Hister's headlong rushing stream, Which, wrecking bridges in its course, 585 Pours reckless on;

Nor yet the Rhone, whose current strong Beats back the sea; nor when the snows, Beneath the lengthening days of spring And the sun's warm rays, melt down in streams From Haemus' top. 590

Blind is the rage of passion's fire, Will not be governed, brooks no reins, And scoffs at death; nay, hostile swords It gladly courts.

Spare, O ye gods, be merciful, 595 That he who tamed the sea may live. But much we fear, for the lord of the deep Is wroth that his realm of the second lot Should be subdued.

The thoughtless youth who dared to drive His father's sacred chariot, Was by those fires, which o'er the heavens 600 He scattered in his mad career, Himself consumed.

The beaten path has never proved The way of danger. Walk ye then Where your forefathers safely trod, And keep great nature's holy laws 605 Inviolate.

Whoever dipped the famous oars Of that bold bark in the rushing sea; Whoe'er despoiled old Pelion Of the thick, dark shade of his sacred groves; Whoever dared the clashing rocks, 610 And, after countless perils passed, His vessel moored on a barbarous shore, Hoping to fare on his homeward way The master of the golden fleece, All by a fearful end appeased 615 The offended sea.

First Tiphys, tamer of the deep, Abandoned to an untrained hand His vessel's helm. On a foreign shore, Far from his native land he died; And now within a common tomb, 620 'Midst unknown ghosts, he lies at rest. In wrathful memory of her king Lost on the sea, did Aulis then Within her sluggish harbor hold The impatient ships.

Then he, the tuneful Muse's son, 625 At whose sweet strains the streams stood still, The winds were silent, and the birds, Their songs forgotten, flocked to him,[12] The whole wood following after--he, Over the Thracian fields was hurled 630 In scattered fragments; but his head Down Hebrus' grieving stream was borne. The well-remembered Styx he reached, And Tartarus, whence ne'er again Would he return.

The wingéd sons of Boreas Alcides slew, and Neptune's son 635 Who in a thousand changing forms Could clothe himself. But after peace On land and sea had been proclaimed, And after savage Pluto's realm Had been revealed to mortal eyes, Then did Alcides' self, alive, On burning Oeta's top lie down, And give his body to the flames; 640 For sore distressed was he, consumed By Deianira's deadly gift, The double blood.

A savage boar Ancaeus slew; Thou, Meleager, impiously Thy mother's brother in wrath didst slay, And by that angry mother's hand 645 Didst die. All these deserved their death. But for what crime did Hylas die, A tender lad whom Hercules

Long time but vainly sought? For he, 'Mid waters safe was done to death. Go then, and fearlessly the deep Plow with your daring ships; but fear 650 The peaceful pools.

Idmon, though well be knew the fates, A serpent slew on Afric sands; And Mopsus, to all others true, False to himself, died far from Thebes. 655 If he with truth the future sang, Then Nauplius, who strove to wreck The Argive ships by lying fires, Shall headlong fall into the sea. And for his father's daring crime 660 Shall Ajax, that Oïleus' son, Make full atonement, perishing 'Midst flame and flood.[13]

And thou, Admetus' faithful mate, Shalt[14] for thy husband pay thy life, Redeeming his from death. But he, Who bade the first ship sail in quest 665 Of the golden spoil, King Pelias, Seethed in a boiling cauldron, swam 'Mid those restricted waves. Enough, O gods, have ye avenged the sea: Spare him, we pray, who did but go On ordered ways.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] Reading, _cui_.

[13] Reading, with a period after _profundum_ and after _Oïleus_.

[14] Reading, _impendes_.

ACT IV

_Nurse_ [_alone_]: My spirit trembles, for I feel the near approach 670 Of some unseen disaster. Swiftly grows her grief, Its own fires kindling; and again her passion's force Hath leaped to life. I oft have seen her, with the fit Of inspiration in her soul, confront the gods And force the very heavens to her will. But now, A monstrous deed, of greater moment far than these, 675 Medea is preparing. For, but now, did she With step of frenzy hurry off until she reached Her stricken home. There, in her chamber, all her stores Of magic wonders are revealed; once more she views The things herself hath held in fear these many years, Unloosing one by one her ministers of ill, Occult, unspeakable, and wrapt in mystery; And, grasping with her hand the sacred altar-horn, 680 With prayers, she straightly summons all destructive powers, The creatures bred in Libya's sands, and on the peaks Of frigid Taurus, clad in everlasting snows. Obedient to her potent charms, the scaly brood 685 Of serpents leave their darksome lairs and swarm to her; One savage creature rolls his monstrous length along, And darts his forkéd tongue with its envenomed sting, Death-dealing; at the charming sound he stops amazed, And fold on fold his body writhes in nerveless coils. 690 "But these are petty ills; unworthy of my hand," She cries, "are such weak, earth-born weapons. Potent charms Are bred in heaven. Now, now 'tis time to summon powers Transcending common magic. Down I'll draw from heaven That serpent huge whose body lies athwart the sky 695 Like some great ocean stream, in whose constricting folds The greater and the lesser Bears are held enthralled, The greater set as guide for Grecian ships, the less For Sidon's mariners! Let Ophiuchus loose His hand and pour forth venom from his captive thrall! And let the Python huge, that dared to rear its head 700 Against the heavenly twins, be present at my prayer! Let Hydra's writhing heads, which by Alcides' hand Were severed, all return to life and give me aid! Thou too be near and leave thy ancient Colchian home, Thou watchful dragon, to whose eyes the first sleep came In answer to my incantations." When she thus 705 Had summoned all the serpent brood, she cast her store Of baleful herbs together; all the poisons brewed Amid the rocky caves of trackless Eryx; plants That flourish on the snowy peaks of Caucasus, Whose crags were spattered with Prometheus' gore; the herbs 710 Within whose deadly juice the Arab dips his darts, And the quiver-bearing Mede and fleeing Parthian; Those potent juices, too, which, near the shivering pole, The Suabian chieftains gather in Hyrcanian groves. The seasons, too, have paid their tribute to her stores: Whatever earth produces in the nesting time, And when the stiff'ning hand of winter's frost has stripped 715 The glory from the trees and fettered all the land With icy bonds; whatever flow'ring plant conceals Destruction in its bloom, or in its twisted roots Distils the juice of death, she gathers to her use. These pestilential herbs Haemonian Athos gave; 720 And these on lofty Pindus grew; a bloody knife Clipped off these slender leaves on Macedonia's heights; Still others grew beside the Tigris, whirling on His flood to meet the sea; the Danube nourished some; These grew on bright gem-starred Hydaspes' tepid stream; 725 And these the Baetis bore, which gave the land its name, Displacing with its langourous tide, the western sea. These felt the knife when early dawn begins to break; The fruit of these was cut in midnight's gloomy hour; This fatal crop was reaped with sickle magic-edged. 730 These deadly, potent herbs she takes and sprinkles o'er With serpent venom, mixing all; and in the broth She mingles unclean birds: a wailing screech owl's heart, A ghastly vampire's vitals torn from living flesh. Her magic poisons all she ranges for her use. 735 The ravening power of hidden fire is held in these, While deep in others lurks the numbing chill of frost. Now magic runes she adds more potent far. But lo! Her voice resounds! and, as with maddened step she comes, She chants her charms, while heaven and earth convulsive rock.

[_Enter_ Medea, _chanting her incantations_.]

_Medea:_ I supplicate the silent throng, and you, the gods 740 Of death's sad rites, and groping chaos, and the home Of gloomy Pluto, and the black abyss of death Girt by the banks of Tartarus! Ye storied shades, Your torments leave and haste to grace the festival At Hymen's call! Let stop the whirling wheel that holds Ixion's limbs and let him tread Corinthian ground; Let Tantalus unfrighted drink Pirene's stream. 745 On Creon's stock alone let heavier torments fall, And backward o'er the rocks let Sisyphus be hurled. You too, the seed of Danaüs, whose fruitless toil The ever-empty urns deride, I summon you; This day requires your helping hands. Thou radiant moon, 750 Night's glorious orb, my supplications hear and come To aid; put on thy sternest guise, thou goddess dread Of triple form! Full oft have I with flowing locks, And feet unsandaled, wandered through thy darkling groves And by thy inspiration summoned forth the rain From cloudless skies; the heaving seas have I subdued, 755 And sent the vanquished waves to ocean's lowest depths. At my command the sun and stars together shine, The heavenly law reversed; while in the Arctic sea The Bears have plunged. The seasons, too, obey my will: I've made the burning summer blossom as the spring, 760 And hoary winter autumn's golden harvests bear. The Phasis sends his swirling waves to seek their source, And Ister, flowing to the sea with many mouths, His eager water checks and sluggish rolls along. The billows roar, the mad sea rages, though the winds 765 All silent lie. At my command primeval groves Have lost their shade;[15] the sun, abandoning[16] the day, Has stood in middle heaven; while falling Hyades Attest my charms. But now thy sacred hour is come, 770 O Phoebe. Thine these bonds with bloody hand entwined With ninefold serpent coils; these cords I offer thee, Which on his hybrid limbs Typhoeus bore, who shook The throne of Jove. This vessel holds the dying blood Of Nessus, faithless porter of Alcides' bride. 775 Here are the ashes of the pyre on Oeta's top Which drank the poisoned blood of dying Hercules; And here the fatal billet that Althaea burned In vengeance on her son. These plumes the Harpies left 780 Within their caverned lair when Zetes drove them forth; And these the feathers of that vile Stymphalian bird Which arrows, dipped in Lerna's deadly poison, pierced. But lo! mine altar fires resound! While in the tripod's answering voice 785 Behold the present deity! I see the car of Trivia, Not full and clear as when she drives The livelong night to meet the dawn; But with a baleful, lurid glare, As, harried by Thessalian cries, 790 She holds a more restricted course. Send such uncanny light abroad! Fill mortals with a dread unknown; And let our Corinth's priceless bronze Resound, Dictynna, for thy aid! 795 To thee a solemn sacrifice On bloody altar do we pay! To thee, snatched from the mournful tomb, The blazing torch nocturnal burns; On thee I call with tossing head, 800 And many a frantic gesture make; Corpselike upon the bier I lie, My hair with priestly fillet bound; Before thy awful shrine is waved The branch in Stygian waters dipped. And, calling on thy name, with gleaming shoulders bared, 805 Like Bacchus' mad adorers, will I lash my arms With sacrificial knife. Now let my life-blood flow! And let my hands be used to draw the deadly sword, And learn to shed belovéd blood! [_She cuts her arm and lets the blood flow upon the altar._] Behold, self-stricken have I poured the sacrifice! 810 But if too oft upon thy name I call, I pray forgive this importunity! The cause, O Hecate, of all my prayers Is ever Jason; this my constant care. 815 [_To attendants._] Take now Creüsa's bridal robe, and steep in these, My potent drugs; and when she dons the clinging folds, Let subtle flames go stealing through her inmost heart. The fire that in this tawny golden circlet lurks 820 Prometheus gave, who, for his daring heavenly theft In human aid, endured an ever-living death. 'Twas Vulcan showed the fires concealed in sulphur's veins; 825 While from my brother Phaëthon I gained a flame That never dies; I have preserved Chimera's breath, And that fierce heat that parched the fiery, brazen bull Of Colchis. These dread fires commingled with the gall 830 Of dire Medusa have I bidden keep the power Of lurking evil. Now, O Hecate, Give added force to these my deadly gifts. And strictly guard the hidden seeds of flame. Let them deceive the sight, endure the touch; 835 But through her veins let burning fever run; In fervent heat consume her very bones, And let her fiercely blazing locks outshine Her marriage torches! Lo, my prayer is heard: Thrice have replied the hounds of Hecate, 840 And she has shown her baleful, gleaming fires. Now all is ready: hither call my sons, And let them bear these presents to the bride. [_Enter sons._] Go, go, my sons, of hapless mother born, 845 And win with costly gifts and many prayers The favor of the queen, your father's wife. Begone, but quick your homeward way retrace, That I may fold you in a last embrace.

[_Exeunt sons toward the palace_, Medea _in the opposite direction_.]

* * * * *

_Chorus:_ Where hastes this Bacchic fury now, All passion-swept? what evil deed 850 Does her unbridled rage prepare? Her features are congealed with rage, And with a queenly bearing, grand But terrible, she sets herself 855 Against e'en Creon's royal power. An exile who would deem her now? Her cheeks anon with anger flush, And now a deadly pallor show; Each feeling quick succeeds to each, 860 While all the passions of her heart Her changing aspect testifies. She wanders restless here and there, As a tigress, of her young bereft, In frantic grief the jungle scours. 865 Medea knows not how in check To hold her wrath nor yet her love; If love and wrath make common cause, What dire results will come? When will this scourge of Corinth leave 870 Our Grecian shores for Colchis' strand, And free our kingdom from its fear? Now, Phoebus, hasten on thy course With no retarding rein. 875 Let friendly darkness quickly veil the light, And this dread day be buried deep in night.

FOOTNOTES: