 | Jason |  |
SCENE VII.
ENCHANTRESS.Grim Demogorgon, eldest thou of beings,
Whose name no pow'r celestial dares pronounce,
Who spread'st in darker, lower gloom, than hell,
Thy black pavilion, direful as thou art,
Thou hast been soil'd. Thy terrors could not awe
My Jason's soul, triumphant most when yielding
To her own righteous feelings. But, alas!
Your part, insidious goddesses, I fear.
Whate'er is soft'ning to unbend the mind,
Or fair and lovely to solicit sense,
Whate'er is dazzling to awake ambition,
Whate'er persuasive, dress'd in specious duty,
To cozen guileless honour into error,
You have contriv'd. But, Juno, should he fail
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Which now are trembling on a point of chance,
Think not Medea longer will remain
Repeating curses, hurling her upbraidings
On destiny and Heav'n! Thy rapid lightning
May strike th' uplifted poniard from my hand:
Among the thousand avenues to death
One will I find; then lay my burden down
Of evils, grown too mighty for complaint.
| Jason | |