And on each gate-warder; and mothers, that daylong wont to weep
For children dead, with the peace of slumber were folded around.
No barking of dogs through the city there was any more, no sound
Of voices, but all the blackening gloom was with silence bound. {750}
But not o’er Medea did sleep sweet dews of forgetfulness shake;
For many a care in her yearning for Jason held her awake,
Adread of the mighty strength of the bulls, ’neath the fury of whom
He must die in the War-god’s acre, must die by a shameful doom.
And with thick fast throbbings struggled the heart in her breast alway;
As when on the wall of a dwelling the leaping sunbeams play