 | Medea |  |
SCENE the SIXTH.
MEDEA and the FIRST COLCHIAN.MEDEA
waving her wand.
First rise, ye shades impervious to the sight;
And you, ye sable-skirted clouds, descend:
Us and our mystic deeds with night surround.
[The stage is darkened.And you, ye sable-skirted clouds, descend:
Us and our mystic deeds with night surround.
[Iambics.]
Thou, by whose pow'r the magic song
Charms from its orb th'unwilling moon,
Controlls the rapid planet's speed,
And dims the constellation's fires;
While sounding torrents stop and sleep,
While fountain-nymphs in dread withold
Their mazy tribute from the meads,
And stiff'ning serpents hear and die:
Terrific deity, whose name,
And altar stain'd with human blood
On Tauric cliffs the Scythian wild,
And fell Sarmatian tribes adore;
[Trochaics.]
Wreath'd in snakes, and twining boughs
Gather'd from infernal oaks,
Which o'er Pluto's portal hung
Shed a second night on hell;
In thy raven-tinctur'd stole,
Grasping thy tremendous brand,
With thy howling train around,
Awful Hecaté, ascend.
Charms from its orb th'unwilling moon,
Controlls the rapid planet's speed,
And dims the constellation's fires;
While sounding torrents stop and sleep,
While fountain-nymphs in dread withold
Their mazy tribute from the meads,
And stiff'ning serpents hear and die:
Terrific deity, whose name,
And altar stain'd with human blood
On Tauric cliffs the Scythian wild,
And fell Sarmatian tribes adore;
[Trochaics.]
Wreath'd in snakes, and twining boughs
Gather'd from infernal oaks,
51
Shed a second night on hell;
In thy raven-tinctur'd stole,
Grasping thy tremendous brand,
With thy howling train around,
Awful Hecaté, ascend.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
By the pitchy streams of Styx,
Lethe's mute and lazy flood,
By the deathful vapor sent
From Avernus' steaming pool;
By th'eternal sigh, which heaves
With Cocytus' mournful wave,
By the Phlegethontic blaze,
Direful goddess, hear and rise.
[Iambics.]
Or if, where discord late hath heap'd
Her bloody hecatombs to Mars,
Thou sweeping o'er the mangled slain
Dost tinge thy feet in sanguin dew;
Ah! leave a-while the vultures shriek,
The raven croaking o'er the dead,
The midnight wolf's insatiate howl,
And hither turn thy solemn pace.
The winds in magic horror bound
Shall at thy presence cease to breathe,
No thunder-teeming cloud approach,
The hoarse and restless surge be dumb.
52
No more. The strong-constraining spell hath tam'd
The restif blast; the pliant leaves are fix'd;
The fountains rest; th'oblivious birds are hush'd;
And dead the billows on the silent beach.
Begone—She comes—I feel the rocking ground.
Its entrails groan—Its shiv'ring surface parts.
Scarce can Æetes' child the sight endure.
| Medea | |