MAGDALEN AT THE TOMB.
Deep sombre clouds roll up to shroud the night,
For in the silence of a guarded tomb
Rests the rich promise of a Virgin’s womb;
And hearts that hoped are shrunk as buds by blight,
Till, like a soul which gains from Heaven delight,
The radiant morn dispels the woeful gloom,
And casts o’er hungry Earth a new perfume.
A white-robed Angel, pinion-fring’d with light,
Beside the empty grave bade one rejoice,
Who, coming from the cross, outran the morn,
In loving haste the body to adorn;
But found it gone—and wept. Oh! hasty choice
Of tears, for one who was the first to turn
Her eyes upon her Lord, and hear his voice.
FROM THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES.
'A free translation.
BY AUBREY DE VERE.
[The Chorus dissuades Medea from slaying her children.]
STROPHE I.
O race renowned in ancient story,
Race from the blest Immortals sprung,
Athenians, ye who all day long,
Feeding on wisdom and on glory,
Walk lightly through that climate fine,
Where, as the fabling poets say,
The yellow-tressed Harmonia
Brought forth the Muses nine;
That sage and virgin choir whose shell
You hear so often, love so well:—
ANTISTROPHE I.
To you white Aphrodite sends
Her Loves, to make you wise and kind;
For they are Wisdom’s choicest friends;
And here they say the goddess wreathed
Her fragrant locks with rosy twine;
And here they sing that, passion-fraught
And o’er Cephisus’ stream reclined,
Along the flowery vale she breathed
Sweet airs from that cold current caught
Upon her balmy lips divine.
STROPHE II.
Medea, dream not that the city
Of sacred founts and streams can e’er
Give harbor to a wretch like thee:
Pity them, ruthless mother, pity!
See but thy guilt as others see;
By all things great and good, forbear!
We clasp thy knees, and bid thee spare
The babes that laughed upon thy knee!
ANTISTROPHE II.
They are thy children! They will call
Aloud, aloud upon their mother!
How can’st thou hear that pleading cry?
In vain thou striv’st:—thou can’st not smother
A mother’s love. Thy hand will shake;
Thy heart will bend; thy heart will break,
Thy frenzy melt away and die,
When twining round thy feet they fall
In that despairing agony.