ACT II
Scene I
Medea, Nurse.
Medea. Alas, the wedding chorus strikes my ears;
Now let me die! I could not hitherto
Believe—can hardly yet believe such wrong. 115
And this is Jason's deed? Of father, home,
And kingdom reft, can he desert me now,
Alone and in a foreign land? Can he
Despise my worth who saw the flames and seas
By my art conquered? thinks, perchance, all crime 120
Exhausted! Tossed by every wave of doubt,
I am distracted, seeking some revenge.
Had he a brother's love—he has a bride;
Through her be thrust the steel! Is this enough?
If Grecian or barbarian cities know 125
Crime that this hand knows not, that crime be done!
Thy sins return to mind exhorting thee:
The far-famed treasure of a kingdom lost;
Thy little comrade, wicked maid, destroyed,
Torn limb from limb and scattered on the sea 130
An offering to his father; Pelias old
Killed in the boiling cauldron. I have shed
Blood often basely, but alas! alas!
'Twas not in wrath, unhappy love did all!
Had Jason any choice, by foreign law 135
And foreign power constrained? He could have bared
His breast to feel the sword. O bitter grief,
Speak milder, milder words. Let Jason live;
Mine as he was, if this be possible,
But, if not mine, still let him live secure, 140
To spare me still the memory of my gift!
The fault is Creon's; he abuses power
To annul our marriage, sever strongest ties,
And tear the children from their mother's breast;
Let Creon pay the penalty he owes. 145
I'll heap his home in ashes, the dark flame
Shall reach Malea's dreaded cape, where ships
Find passage only after long delay.
Nurse. Be silent, I implore thee, hide thy pain
Deep in thy bosom. He who quietly 150
Bears grievous wounds, with patience, and a mind
Unshaken, may find healing. Hidden wrath
Finds strength, when open hatred loses hope
Of vengeance.
Medea. Light is grief that hides itself,
And can take counsel. Great wrongs lie not hid. 155
I am resolved on action.
Nurse. Foster-child,
Restrain thy fury; hardly art thou safe
Though silent.
Medea. Fortune tramples on the meek,
But fears the brave.
Nurse. This is no place to show
That thou hast courage. 160
Medea. It can never be
That courage should be out of place.
Nurse. To thee,
In thy misfortune, hope points out no way.
Medea. The man who cannot hope despairs of naught.
Nurse. Colchis is far away, thy husband lost;
Of all thy riches nothing now remains. 165
Medea. Medea now remains! Here's land and sea,
Fire and sword, god and the thunderbolt.
Nurse. The king is to be feared.
Medea. I claim a king
For father.
Nurse. Hast thou then no fear of arms?
Medea. I, who saw warriors spring from earth? 170
Nurse. Thou'lt die!
Medea. I wish it.
Nurse. Flee!
Medea. Nay, I repent of flight.
Nurse. Thou art a mother.
Medea. And thou seest by whom.
Nurse. Wilt thou not fly?
Medea. I fly, but first revenge.
Nurse. Vengeance may follow thee.
Medea. I may, perchance,
Find means to hinder it. 175
Nurse. Restrain thyself
And cease to threaten madly; it is well
That thou adjust thyself to fortune's change.
Medea. My riches, not my spirit, fortune takes.
The hinge creaks,—who is this? Creon himself,
Swelling with Grecian pride. 180
Scene II
Creon with Attendants, Medea.
Creon. What, is Medea of the hated race
Of Colchian Æëtes, not yet gone?
Still she is plotting evil; well I know
Her guile, and well I know her cruel hand.
Whom does she spare, or whom let rest secure? 185
Verily I had thought to cut her off
With the swift sword, but Jason's prayers availed
To spare her life. She may go forth unharmed
If she will set our city free from fear.
Threatening and fierce, she seeks to speak with us; 190
Attendants, keep her off, bid her be still,
And let her learn at last, a king's commands
Must be obeyed. Go, haste, and take her hence.
Medea. What fault is punished by my banishment?
Creon. A woman, innocent, may ask, 'What fault?' 195
Medea. If thou wilt judge, examine.
Creon. Kings command.
Just or unjust, a king must be obeyed.
Medea. An unjust kingdom never long endures.
Creon. Go hence! Seek Colchis!
Medea. Willingly I go;
Let him who brought me hither take me hence. 200
Creon. Thy words come late, my edict has gone forth.
Medea. The man who judges, one side still unheard,
Were hardly a just judge, though he judge justly.
Creon. Pelias for listening to thee died, but speak,
I may find time to hear so good a plea. 205
Medea. How hard it is to calm a wrathful soul,
How he who takes the scepter in proud hands
Deems his own will sufficient, I have learned;
Have learned it in my father's royal house.
For though the sport of fortune, suppliant, 210
Banished, alone, forsaken, on all sides
Distressed, my father was a noble king.
I am descended from the glorious sun.
What lands the Phasis in its winding course
Bathes, or the Euxine touches where the sea 215
Is freshened by the water from the swamps,
Or where armed maiden cohorts try their skill
Beside Thermodon, all these lands are held
Within my father's kingdom, where I dwelt
Noble and happy and with princely power. 220
He whom kings seek, sought then to wed with me.
Swift, fickle fortune cast me headlong forth,
And gave me exile. Put thy trust in thrones—
Such trust as thou mayst put in what light chance
Flings here and there at will! Kings have one power, 225
A matchless honor time can never take:
To help the wretched, and to him who asks
To give a safe retreat. This I have brought
From Colchis, this at least I still can claim:
I saved the flower of Grecian chivalry, 230
Achaian chiefs, the offspring of the gods;
It is to me they owe their Orpheus
Whose singing melted rocks and drew the trees;
Castor and Pollux are my twofold gift;
Boreas' sons, and Lynceus whose sharp eye 235
Could pierce beyond the Euxine, are my gift,
And all the Argonauts. Of one alone,
The chief of chiefs, I do not speak; for him
Thou owest me naught; those have I saved for thee,
This one is mine. Rehearse, now, all my crime; 240
Accuse me; I confess; this is my fault—
I saved the Argo! Had I heard the voice
Of maiden modesty or filial love,
Greece and her leaders had regretted it,
And he, thy son-in-law, had fallen first 245
A victim to the fire-belching bull.
Let fortune trample on me as she will,
My hand has succored princes, I am glad!
Assign the recompense for these my deeds,
Condemn me if thou wilt, but tell the fault. 250
Creon, I own my guilt—guilt known to thee
When first, a suppliant, I touched thy knees,
And asked with outstretched hands protecting aid.
Again I ask a refuge, some poor spot
For misery to hide in; grant a place 255
Withdrawn, a safe asylum in thy realm,
If I must leave the city.
Creon. I am no prince who rules with cruel sway,
Or tramples on the wretched with proud foot.
Have I not shown this true by choosing him 260
To be my son-in-law who is a man
Exiled, without resource, in fear of foes?
One whom Acastus, king of Thessaly,
Seeks to destroy, that so he may avenge
A father weak with age, bowed down with years, 265
Whose limbs were torn asunder? That foul crime
His wicked sisters impiously dared
Tempted by thee; if thou wouldst say the deed
Was Jason's, he can prove his innocence;
No guiltless blood has stained him, and his hands 270
Touched not the sword, are yet unstained by thee.
Foul instigator of all evil deeds,
With woman's wantonness in daring aught,
And man's courageous heart—and void of shame,
Go, purge our kingdom; take thy deadly herbs, 275
Free us from fear; dwelling in other lands
Afar, invoke the gods.
Medea. Thou bidst me go?
Give back the ship and comrade of my flight.
Why bid me go alone? Not so I came.
If thou fear war, both should go forth, nor choice 280
Be made between two equally at fault:
That old man fell for Jason's sake; impute
To Jason flight, rapine, a brother slain,
And a deserted father; not all mine
The crimes to which a husband tempted me; 285
'Tis true I sinned, but never for myself.
Creon. Thou shouldst begone, why waste the time with words?
Medea. I go, but going make one last request:
Let not a mother's guilt drag down her sons.
Creon. Go, as a father I will succor them, 290
And with a father's care.
Medea. By future hopes,
By the king's happy marriage, by the strength
Of thrones, which fickle fortune sometimes shakes,
I pray thee grant the exile some delay
That she, perchance about to die, may press 295
A last kiss on her children's lips.
Creon. Thou seekst
Time to commit new crime.
Medea. In so brief time
What crime were possible?
Creon. No time too short
For him who would do ill.
Medea. Dost thou deny
To misery short space for tears? 300
Creon. Deep dread
Warns me against thy prayer; yet I will grant
One day in which thou mayst prepare for flight.
Medea. Too great the favor! Of the time allowed,
Something withdraw. I would depart in haste.
Creon. Before the coming day is ushered in 305
By Phœbus, leave the city or thou diest.
The bridal calls me, and I go to pay
My vows to Hymen.
Scene III
Chorus. He rashly ventured who was first to make
In his frail boat a pathway through the deep; 310
Who saw his native land behind him fade
In distance blue; who to the raging winds
Trusted his life, his slender keel between
The paths of life and death. Our fathers dwelt
In an unspotted age, and on the shore 315
Where each was born he lived in quietness,
Grew old upon his father's farm content;
With little rich, he knew no other wealth
Than his own land afforded. None knew yet
The changing constellations, nor could use 320
As guides the stars that paint the ether; none
Had learned to shun the rainy Hyades,
The Goat, or Northern Wain, that follows slow
By old Boötes driven; none had yet
To Boreas or Zephyr given names. 325
Rash Tiphys was the first to tempt the deep
With spreading canvas; for the winds to write
New laws; to furl the sail; or spread it wide
When sailors longed to fly before the gale,
And the red topsail fluttered in the breeze. 330
The world so wisely severed by the seas
The pine of Thessaly united, bade
The distant waters bring us unknown fears.
The cursed leader paid hard penalty
When the two cliffs, the gateway of the sea, 335
Moved as though smitten by the thunderbolt,
And the imprisoned waters smote the stars.
Bold Tiphys paled, and from his trembling hand
Let fall the rudder; Orpheus' music died,
His lyre untouched; the Argo lost her voice. 340
When, belted by her girdle of wild dogs,
The maid of the Sicilian straits gives voice
From all her mouths, who fears not at her bark?
Who does not tremble at the witching song
With which the Sirens calm the Ausonian sea? 345
The Thracian Orpheus' lyre had almost forced
Those hinderers of ships to follow him!
What was the journey's prize? The golden fleece,
Medea, fiercer than the raging sea,—
Worthy reward for those first mariners! 350
The sea forgets its former wrath; submits
To the new laws; and not alone the ship
Minerva builded, manned by sons of kings,
Finds rowers; other ships may sail the deep.
Old metes are moved, new city walls spring up 355
On distant soil, and nothing now remains
As it has been. The cold Araxes' stream
The Indian drinks; the Persian quaffs the Rhine;
And the times come with the slow-rolling years
When ocean shall strike off the chains from earth, 360
And a great world be opened. Tiphys then,
Another Tiphys, shall win other lands,
And Thule cease to be earth's utmost bound.