University of Virginia Library

SCENE the THIRD.

JASON, the CHILDREN, MEDEA, COLCHIANS and PHÆACIANS.
MEDEA
stopping short.
The man, who knew, and yet despis'd my worth,
I see before me—Still, thou restif heart,
Still dost thou rise tumultuous in my bosom?
Oh! thou must bend.

JASON.
Well, daughter of Æetes;
Lo! I am here obedient to thy call.

MEDEA.
Once was the time, when Jason would have come
Uncall'd, unprompted, but by love alone.
Why do I bring the wasted glass of joy
Back to my view!—Oh! torture of remembrance!
Oh! Jason! Jason!

JASON.
Speak.

MEDEA.
I cannot speak.

JASON
aside.
My spirit yields—this mute distress o'erwhelms me.

MEDEA.
Is it decreed to separate thy name
From mine for ever.—First to all restore me,
Which I relinquish'd for thee, to my country,
The veneration, which that country paid me,
My injur'd parents, and their lost affection.
To my untainted, virgin fame restore me,
My once untroubled, unreproaching thoughts.
Impossible—Then hear, and yet be just.

JASON
aside.
Oh! that this morning she had thus address'd me!

MEDEA.
Not love alone, not Hymen's common ties,
But fame and conquest, mutual toils and hardships,
All, which is marvellous and great, conspir'd
To make us one. What stars in distant skies,
What seas, what shores unvisited before
Have we not seen together? And what perils
Could each inhospitable clime present,
From which Medea hath not sav'd her Jason?
Our toils at length surmounted, must we part?
My lord—My husband—Father of these boys!
Shame, anguish, desperation rush upon me!
They bind my heart in adamantine woes!
They weigh me down—They bear me to the earth.
[Kneeling with the children.
Thus low behold the issue of the sun
Imploring pity of the man, who scorn'd her.

JASON.
Canst thou, O Juno, from thy neighb'ring temple
View this illustrious suff'rer at my feet,
Nor swift destruction from thy altar show'r
On my perfidious head? Why rather, goddess,
Who hast thy thunder like thy husband, Jove,
Didst thou not blast me, when, by furies guided,
I ratify'd but now th'unhallow'd contract.

MEDEA
rising.
What hast thou said?

JASON.
Creüsa—is my wife.
[He starts at Medea's looks, then fixes his eyes stedfastly upon her, and after some time proceeds.
Medea—Ha! Have sense and motion left her?
Her colour dies, which once outshone the morn.
Those radiant eyes, whose majesty proclaim'd
The sun's own progeny, withdraw their lustre.
Oh! thou most injur'd, utter thy complaints;
Give words to anger, and to sorrow tears.

MEDEA.
Astonishment! What prodigy is there?
Look yonder.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Go—go, children, to the temple;
Avoid this sight.

[The children are led off by a Phæacian to the temple.
MEDEA.
What wonderful appearance
Floats on the main, and stems the lofty surge?

JASON.
O execrable perfidy! which fills
The loveliest eyes with tears, the noblest heart
With pangs, the most enlighten'd mind with madness.

MEDEA.
See, where yon snowy concave in its bosom
Collecting all the motion of the winds
Drives the huge burthen to th'affrighted shore.

JASON.
O had the flood, she sees in frantic thought,
Ingulph'd that bark!

MEDEA
advancing towards him.
What art thou, most presumptuous,
Who dar'st approach the limits of this region?
Hast thou not heard, that bulls with brazen feet,
And sleepless dragons guard the fatal soil?
He hears unterrify'd—I ne'er beheld
Such majesty and grace.

JASON.
Debas'd, deform'd
By guilt's polluting hand!

MEDEA.
He speaks—What music!
He claims the golden fleece—What means this warmth,
Which prompts my hand to give the radiant prize?
But wilt thou prove then constant—ever kind?
I must, I will believe thee.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
What remorse,
What consternation petrify his frame!
And she grows wilder.

MEDEA.
Hark. With flaming throats
The bulls begin to roar. The forest trembles.
And see, the dragon hither points his course.
See, his huge pinions beat the tortur'd air.
His monstrous body rolls the blast before him,
And sails amidst a whirlwind. Dost thou droop?
Be not dismay'd, my hero. Stand behind.
Attend, ye demons, whose contagious breath
Defiles the sun, who chill the fiercest heart,
And lock in drowsy sloth the nerves of strength.

JASON.
Assume thy terrors—Moulder me to dust.
Now call thy demons, whose infernal grasp
May snatch and hurl me to my destin'd pains.
Let me be stretch'd on torn Ixion's wheel,
Or chain'd in burning adamant endure
The tooth of vipers, and the scorpion's sting;
Oh! rather, rather, than behold thy suff'rings.

MEDEA.
Why art thou pale and languid? Thou art safe.
The slumb'ring monster drops his scaly wings.
Thine is the fleece—Medea too is thine.
[Jason throws himself back, and is receiv'd by the Colchians.
Confusion and amazement!—Is he vanish'd?
Where am I?—On a rock, a desart cliff,
Which overhangs the unfrequented waves;
No plant, but moss, to hide its craggy sides;
No shelter nigh my tempest-beaten head:
And lo! two infants clinging to my knees,
Who join my grief, and call Medea mother.
O thou false hero, whither art thou fled?
Hark—The wind only answers my complaint,
It is the sea, which murmurs to my groans.
Ha! what art thou, grim shape embru'd with gore?
Why dost thou wave that Stygian torch around?
Art thou Revenge from Tartarus enlarg'd
To aid Medea? Come then, shake thy brand
Before my steps. To perpetrate thy mischief
The winds shall lend their swiftness, hell its fiends,
The sea its fury, and the Sun his flames.