ACT III

[Medea _is rushing out to seek vengeance, while the_ Nurse _tries in vain to restrain her_.]

_Nurse:_ My foster-daughter, whither speedest thou abroad? 380 Oh, stay, I pray thee, and restrain thy passion's force. [Medea _hastens by without answering. The_ Nurse _soliloquizes_.] As some wild Bacchanal, whose fury's raging fire The god inflames, now roams distraught on Pindus' snows, And now on lofty Nysa's rugged slopes; so she, 385 Now here, now there, with frenzied step is hurried on, Her face revealing every mark of stricken woe, With flushing cheek and sighs deep drawn, wild cries, and tears, And laughter worse than tears. In her a medley strange Of every passion may be seen: o'ertopping wrath, 390 Bewailings, bitter groans of anguish. Whither tends This overburdened soul? What mean her frenzied threats? When will the foaming wave of fury spend itself? No common crime, I fear, no easy deed of ill She meditates. Herself she will outvie. For well I recognize the wonted marks of rage. Some deed Is threatening, wild, profane, and hideous. 395 [_Re-enter_ Medea.] Behold Her face betrays her madness. O ye gods, may these Our fears prove vain forebodings!

_Medea_ [_not noticing the_ Nurse's _presence_]: For thy hate, poor soul, Dost thou a measure seek? Let it be deep as love. And shall I tamely view the wedding torches's glare? And shall this day go uneventful by, this day, So hardly won, so grudgingly bestowed? Nay, nay, 400 While, poised upon her heights, the central earth shall bear The heavens up; while seasons run their endless round, And sands unnumbered lie; while days, and nights, and sun, And stars in due procession pass; while round the pole The ocean-fearing bears revolve, and tumbling streams Flow downward to the sea; my grief shall never cease 405 To seek revenge, and shall forever grow. What rage Of savage beast can equal mine? What Scylla famed? What sea-engulfing pool? What burning Aetna placed On impious Titan's heaving breast? No torrent stream, 410 Nor storm-tossed sea, nor breath of flame fanned by the gale, Can check or equal my wild storm of rage. My will Is set on limitless revenge! Will Jason say 415 He feared the power of Creon and Acastus' threats? True love is proof against the fear of man. But grant He was compelled to yield, and pledged his hand in fear: He might at least have sought his wife with one last word Of comfort and farewell. But this, though brave in heart, 420 He feared to do. The cruel terms of banishment Could Creon's son-in-law not soften? No. One day Alone was giv'n for last farewell to both my babes. But time's short space I'll not bewail; though brief in hours, In consequence it stretches out eternally. This day shall see a deed that ne'er shall be forgot. But now I'll go and pray the gods, and move high heaven 425 But I shall work my will!

_Nurse:_ Thy heart all passion-tossed, I pray thee, mistress, soothe, and calm thy troubled soul.

_Medea:_ My troubled soul can never know a time of rest Until it sees all things o'erwhelmed in common doom. All must go down with me! 'Tis sweet such death to die.

[_Exit_ Medea.]

_Nurse_ [_calling after her_]: Oh, think what perils thou must meet if thou persist! 430 No one with safety may defy a sceptered king.

[_Enter_ Jason.]

_Jason:_ O heartless fate, if frowns or smiles bedeck thy brow, How often are thy cures far worse than the disease They seek to cure! If, now, I wish to keep the troth 435 I plighted to my lawful bride, my life must pay The forfeit; if I shrink from death, my guilty soul Must perjured be. I fear no power that man can wield; But in my heart paternal love unmans me quite; For well I know that in my death my children's fate Is sealed. O sacred Justice, if in heaven thou dwell'st, 440 Be witness now, that for my children's sake I act. Nay, sure am I that even she, Medea's self, Though fierce she is of soul and brooking no restraint, Will see her children's good outweighing all her wrongs. With this good argument my purpose now is fixed, 445 In humble wise to brave her wrath. [_Enter_ Medea.] At sight of me Her raging fury flames anew! Hate, like a shield, She bears, and in her face is pictured all her woe.

_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_.