Not long, I ween, shalt thou ’scape from Aiêtes’ terrible wrath. {740}
Nay, but full soon will he go to the dwellings of Hellas-land
To avenge the blood of his son, the unspeakable deed of thine hand.
Yet, forasmuch as my suppliant thou art, and my sister withal,
None other harm unto thee at thy coming of me shall befall.
But begone from mine halls, companion who art in an alien’s flight—
Whosoe’er be this fellow unknown thou hast ta’en in thy father’s despite!—
Nay, knee me no knees, earth-croucher! Naught shalt thou win save blame,
Save a curse for thine heart’s devices, for this thy flight of shame!’
So spake she; and comfortless grief overwhelmed Medea: she cast