 | Medea |  |
SCENE the TWELFTH.
JASON and ÆSON.ÆSON.
What have I heard? Th'exasperated king . . . .
JASON.
Hath told thee truth. His daughter I relinquish.
ÆSON.
Off with this bridal pageantry, which mocks
With gay delusion my disastrous age.
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I will receive it: from thy barb'rous hand
Let dust be sprinkled on my joyless head.
Nay, rather turn invincible against me;
Lock in that nervous gripe these snowy hairs;
And to the hov'ring eagles on the beach
Cast my disfigur'd reliques. Dost thou pause?
Think'st thou, that Jason's father will be seen
Decrepit, tott'ring with distress and years,
A vagabond, a suppliant for protection
Among the happier princes? No, my son,
Though not like thee the faulchion I can weild,
And mow my foes before me, I can die.
JASON.
Com'st thou with threat'nings? That tremendous goddess,
Whose piercing eye from yonder fane discerns
Guile in its naked shape through ev'ry garb,
And marks ingratitude for signal vengeance,
Knows, that we merit both to die: yet, dying,
We could not expiate our unmatch'd offence.
ÆSON.
What unaccustom'd, terrifying sterness
Frowns on that aspect? Gentle have I known thee
From infancy to manhood, ne'er before
Have felt thee dreadful.
JASON.
Ever from thy fears
Wilt thou take counsel? Can the voice of pity,
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No admonition? O exalt thy thoughts
From this base earth, the mansion of deceit,
Of perjuries and crimes. Erect thy visage
To Themis heav'n-thron'd patroness of justice.
Invoke her aid, that, strengthen'd, thou may'st hear,
Nor be confounded at thy son's resolves.
By no persuasion, artifice, or menace
My now-reviving dignity of mind
From its own summit shall again descend.
ÆSON.
What would my Jason?
JASON.
Take the holy priestess;
Repair to Creon; with united counsels
Him first from impious violence dissuade:
And then . . . .
ÆSON.
To whose protection must I fly?
JASON.
To mine. Abandon Corinth, and at Thebes
Not three day's march from these detested gates
Expect my presence. Hercules is there,
My friend, my soldier. He with ev'ry hero,
Who once obey'd my standard, will again
League their auxiliar swords and save Iolcos.
Let this suffice—If not—Persist no more.
Thy son is fix'd immoveable, as fate.
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[Thunder.
Thy mightier genius awes me. I submit.
We all are guilty—Juno so proclaims.
But Oh! amid these prodigies, my Jason,
Not one alarms me like the rude commotion,
Which shakes thy placid bosom. Be compos'd.
I will conduct Theano to the king.
| Medea | |