[She sings.]
"Ye gods above, ye mighty gods,
Anoint my head, I pray;
Make strong my heart to bear my part
Right kingly in the fray,
To smite all foes, and steal the heart
Of all fair maids away!"
MEDEA. Yea, yea, all these the gods bestowed on him!
CREUSA. All what?
MEDEA. These gifts, of which the song doth tell.
CREUSA. What gifts?
MEDEA. "To smite all foes, and steal the heart
Of all fair maids away!"
CREUSA. Is't so? I never thought on that before;
I did but sing the words I heard him sing.
MEDEA. 'Twas so he stood on Colchis' hostile strand;
Before his burning glance our warriors cringed,
And that same glance kindled a fatal fire
In the soft breast of one unhappy maid;
She struggled, fled—until at last those flames,
So long hid deep within her heart, burst forth,
And rest and joy and peace to ashes burned
In one fierce holocaust of smoky flame.
'Twas so he stood, all shining strength and grace,
A hero, nay, a god—and drew his victim
And drew and drew, until the victim came
To its own doom; and then he flung it down
Careless, and there was none would take it up.
CREUSA. Art thou his wife, and speak'st such things of him?