University of Virginia Library

ACT the THIRD.

SCENE the FIRST.

THEANO and the FIRST COLCHIAN.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Hope in its bud was blasted by her anger.

THEANO.
Unhappy anger! but her wrongs are great;
Nor is my pity less. Instruct me, Colchian,
Was she not fam'd for hospitable deeds?

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Oft hath her known benignity preserv'd
The Grecian strangers on our barb'rous coast.

THEANO.
Yet now a Grecian prince denies her shelter.
Well, introduce me to her.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Restless anguish
Will soon transport her hither. Look, she comes.
Here let us watch some interval of calmness.

THEANO.
Are those her children?

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Yes, from Jason sprung.

THEANO.
They too with intermingling tears enhance
The piteous scene. Thou fair and stately tree,
Who once so proudly didst o'ertop the forest,
What cruel hand despoils thee of thy honours?
Now dost thou shew, as blasted by the lightning,
With all thy tender branches with'ring round.

SCENE the SECOND.

THEANO and the FIRST COLCHIAN apart. MEDEA, her TWO CHILDREN, COLCHIANS and PHÆACIANS.
ELDEST CHILD.
Why fly'st thou from us? Wherefore dost thou frown,
Whene'er we name, or ask to see our father?

MEDEA.
You have no father.

ELDEST CHILD.
When we left Iolcos,
Didst thou not tell us, he was here in Corinth?
Now we have pass'd the frightful sea, what hinders,
But we may find him?

MEDEA.
Never find him more
To you a parent, or to me a husband.

ELDEST CHILD.
Alas! thou weep'st.

MEDEA.
You too must learn to weep,
Ye destin'd wand'rers in the vale of mourning.
Why do you lift your infant eyes to me?
Your helpless mother cannot guard your childhood,
Nor bid neglect and sorrow stand aloof.
I once had parents—Ye endearing names!
How my torn heart with recollection bleeds!
You too perhaps o'erflow your aged cheeks,
Rend from your heads the venerable snow
Oft, as your lost Medea is recall'd,
And for a hapless off-spring mourn like me.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Heart-breaking sorrow now succeeds to rage.
Turn, royal mistress; see the holy priestess.

MEDEA.
Hail! most humane.

THEANO.
To Juno render praise.

MEDEA.
She owes me refuge. Prompted first by Juno,
I left my native Phasis, and convey'd
Back to her favour'd clime the golden fleece.
Thy part was all humanity.

THEANO.
Sage princess,
Hear me divulge the menaces of Creon
To drive thee hence. Expect his presence soon.
Fear not his anger. Warranted by Juno,
By my high function, by my nature more,
I gave thee, I continue my protection.

MEDEA.
Turn to these infants thy benignant looks.
Them to secure from trouble and the terrors,
Which gather closely on the steps of time,
Is all their mother's care; at whose entreaty
Do thou receive their innocence in charge:
But leave Medea to her own protection.

ELDEST CHILD.
Our father long hath left us. By thy side,
And in thy bosom we had comfort still.
Wilt thou forsake us?

MEDEA.
We will meet again.
Remove them from me. I can bear no longer
To view those mirrors, which reflect the image
Of my distress, and multiply my pains.

THEANO.
Weep not, my children.

MEDEA.
Hide their melting softness,
Lest they dissolve the vigor, which must save them.

[Medea continues weeping.
THEANO.
Come, lovely mourners, rest a-while with me.
Come and be practis'd to repeat your vows
For this most wrong'd of mothers. You shall lift
Your blameless hands, sweet supplicants, shall kneel
To nuptial Juno, and to rev'rend Themis,
The arbitress of oaths, and plighted faith.
The dove-like voice of your untainted age,
Thus visited by undeserv'd affliction,
May win their guardian mercy; when the pray'rs
Of man, false man grown reprobate by time
With all the pomp of hecatombs would fail.

SCENE the THIRD.

MEDEA, COLCHIANS and PHÆACIANS.
MEDEA.
Are they withdrawn?

FIRST COLCHIAN.
They are.

MEDEA.
Then, mighty Spirit,
Once more at least thy majesty shall blaze
Such, as thou wert amid th'enchanted wood;
When thou didst summon hell's reluctant pow'rs,
And hell obey'd: when dark'ning, from her car
The moon descended, and the knotted oak
Bent with thy charms, which tam'd the wakeful dragon,
And safety gave to demi-gods and heroes.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Behold the king.

SCENE the FOURTH.

MEDEA, COLCHIANS and PHÆACIANS, CREON, LYCANDER and attendants.
MEDEA.
Why comes the king of Corinth
To break upon my sorrows, and to vaunt,
That his injustice is endu'd with pow'r
To grieve Medea?

CREON.
To debate, weak woman,
Is thy known province; to command is mine.
Be seen no longer in the bounds of Corinth.

MEDEA.
And who art thou, dost give Medea law,
And circumscribe the slend'rest spot on earth
Against her passage. Unconfin'd, as winds,
I range with nature to her utmost bounds;
While, as I tread, mankind reveres my steps,
Its hidden pow'rs each element unfolds,
And mightiest heroes anxious for renown
Implore Medea's favour. What is Creon,
Who from the sun's descendant dares withold
The right to hospitality and justice?

CREON.
Not of the number, who revere thy steps,
Or supplicate thy favour; one, whose scepter
Forbids thy residence in Greece. Away;
Range through the snows of Caucasus; return
To Pontic desarts, to thy native wilds:
Among barbarians magnify thy deeds.
This land admits no wand'rer like Medea,
Who with a stranger from her father fled,
Fled from her country, and betray'd them both.

MEDEA.
With him I fled, whom thou wouldst foully draw
Through blackest treason to thy daughter's bed;
And for the rest, if equity, or wisdom
Were Creon's portion, I would plead before him:
But vindicate my actions to a robber,
Who basely watch'd my absence to purloin
My only wealth! my lofty soul disdains it.

CREON.
Hence, while thou may'st, rash woman, ere thou prove,
How strong the awful image of the gods
Is stampt on monarchs, and thou feel my wrath
Swift in destruction like the bolt of Jove.

MEDEA.
Dost thou recount thy fables to Medea,
The ideot tale, which cheats the gaping vulgar,
To her, who knows the secret source of things?
Behold this comely image of the gods.
This violator of the holiest ties,
Whom the dull hand of undiscerning chance
Hath deck'd in purple robes, and pageant gold,
Resembles much the majesty of heav'n.

CREON.
Thy bare expulsion shall not now attone.
I will stand forth th'avenger of Æetes
On his false daughter; for thy crimes in Colchis
Vindictive furies in this distant region,
Shame, chastisement and insult shall o'ertake thee,
Spoil that fair body, humble that fell heart;
Till, as with bitt'rest agony it breaks,
Thou curse its wild temerity, which brav'd
The pond'rous hand of majesty incens'd.

MEDEA.
Ha! thou vain-boaster, hast thou yet to learn,
That I can rock the iron throne of Pluto;
Can waft thee struggling to Rhiphæan crags,
Where thou shalt rave and foam and gnash thy teeth;
Where frost shall parch thee, where the clouds shall scatter
Their storms around thee, whirl in sportive air
Thy gorgeous robe, thy diadem and scepter:
While I—Oh! fruitless, unsubstantial pow'r!
Must still continue wretched—Oh! vain threat!
Hath he not torn my Jason from these arms?
What then avails the knowledge of my mind?
Stretch'd on the rack of anguish is my heart.
What spark of wisdom in my breast remains?
All is extinguish'd there—Oh! Jason! Jason!

[Is supported by her women.
CREON
to Lycander.
Thou seest the haughty sorceress abash'd
Before a monarch's persevering frown.

LYCANDER
aside.
Most injur'd woman!

CREON.
Go, transport her hence,
Ere she revive.

LYCANDER.
The multitude already
Begins to murmur; were this holy place
Defil'd by force, their zeal would swell to madness.
Perhaps this princess for her wisdom fam'd
May be persuaded to abandon Corinth.
And she revives with milder looks.

MEDEA
aside.
Pride, pride,
For once be wise; in lowliness disguise thee,
That thou may'st rise to vengeance. King of Corinth,
I only crave three hours to quit thy borders.

CREON
to Lycander.
If she exceed that slender space of time,
Force shall remove her from my loathing sight.

LYCANDER
to Medea, while Creon is going.
This contest, princess, thou hast wisely clos'd.
Three hours elaps'd, expect me to return
Thy safe conductor to the kingdom's frontier.

SCENE the FIFTH.

MEDEA, COLCHIANS and PHÆACIANS.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Thou dost not droop. This tyrant's empty threats
Thy very breath could dissipate like clouds,
Which for a-while some hideous form assume,
Then pass away dissolv'd to fleeting vapor.
I too will aid thee. By thy father's sister
I was held dear, by Circé, pow'rful queen,
Who taught me various spels and incantations.

MEDEA.
Go then, and bring my wand, that potent rod,
Which grew a branch of ebony o'ershading
The throne of Pluto; sever'd thence, and dipt
Thrice in the cold of Lethe's sleeping lake,
By Hecaté on Circé was bestow'd,
By her on me to still the winds and floods,
Night's drowsy curtains o'er the sky to draw,
And all its active fires entrance to rest.
Leave us apart. Retire, my faithful virgins,
Who share so kindly in Medea's woes.
I would not pierce your gentle hearts with terror.

SCENE the SIXTH.

MEDEA and the FIRST COLCHIAN.
MEDEA
waving her wand.
[The stage is darkened.
[Iambics.]

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.

MEDEA.
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.

SCENE the SEVENTH.

MEDEA, and HECATÉ rising in long, black garments, with a wreath of snakes, and oaken boughs on her head, and a torch in her hand.
MEDEA.
O my propitious and congenial goddess,
Who thy mysterious science hast diffus'd
Of potent herbs, and necromantic songs
Through my capacious bosom, who so long
Hast been assistant to Medea's triumphs,
Now thou behold'st me vanquish'd by despair.

HECATÉ.
I know thy suff'rings, daughter; but to close
The wounds of anguish, and asswage despair
Is not the task of hell.

MEDEA.
Then give me vengeance.

HECATÉ.
On whom?

MEDEA.
Creüsa?—No?—My high revenge
O'erleaps a trifling maid. Old Æson—No.
He is my hero's father. But for Creon. . . . .

HECATÉ.
The hour is nigh, when yonder flood will rage,
This rock be loosen'd, and its structures nod;
Then shall the fury, discord, and red zeal
Thrice steep'd in Stygian fires avenge thy wrongs.
Farewel.

MEDEA.
A moment stay—My yielding heart
Must ask—Will Jason ever more be kind.

HECATÉ.
Search not thy fate.

MEDEA.
Unfold it, I enjoin thee
By him, thou dread'st, by Demogorgon's name.

HECATÉ.
Against thyself, unhappy, thou prevail'st.
Ere night's black wheels begin their gloomy course,
What, thou dost love, shall perish by thy rage,
Nor thou be conscious, when the stroke is giv'n;
Then a despairing wand'rer must thou trace
The paths of sorrow in remotest climes.

SCENE the EIGHTH.

MEDEA.
Destroy my love! By me shall Jason die?
Oh! insupportable! O pitying Juno!
Assist me sinking to the ground with anguish.

SCENE the NINTH.

MEDEA on the ground, COLCHIANS and PHÆACIANS.
FIRST COLCHIAN
entring.
The streaming purple of the western Sun
Glows on these tow'rs and pinnacles again,
Prevailing o'er the darkness, which the wand
Of our sage mistress rais'd—Dejecting sight!
Thy faithful servant can refrain no longer,
But tears must wash the furrows of his cheeks.

MEDEA.
Ah! how much more my eyes should stream in torrents!
Ah! how much stronger should my bosom heave,
And sound its agonies in bitter groans
To the remorseless gods! Destroy my Jason!
[Starting up.
The dear, false hero! Perish first my art.

FIRST PHÆACIAN.
How oft have perjur'd lovers been recall'd
By strong enchantment? Check these vain complaints.
Hast thou not magic to constrain this wand'rer
Back to thy arms?

MEDEA.
I have, but scorn the arts,
Which may command his person, not his love.
No, fly to Jason. Let the only charm
Be soft persuasion to attract him hither.
O he is gentle, as the summer's breeze,
With looks and gestures fashion'd by the graces.
The messenger be thou, discreet and good.
Medea's pride shall stoop.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
I go—though hopeless.

[Aside.
MEDEA.
Mean time will I to yonder wood return,
And some deep-shaded receptacle chuse.
There, wrapt in darkness, shall my suff'ring soul
The sense of all its injuries disburthen
In secret murmurs, till its rage be spent.

SCENE the TENTH.

COLCHIANS and PHÆACIANS.
A COLCHIAN.
[Cretics.]
Native floods rough with ice,
Rushing down mountain-sides,
Whirling thence broken rocks;
[Trochaics.]
Your discordant waves, that sweep
Harshly o'er their flinty beds,
Yield a more alluring sound,
Than the gently-trilling notes
Of the tender Grecian lyre,
Or the swelling strain diffus'd
From the music-breathing flute.
[Cretics.]
Native groves hoar with frost,
Caverns deep fill'd with night,
Shagged clifts, horror's seat;
[Trochaics.]
Oh! to these desiring eyes
Lovely is your gloom, which lives
In remembrance ever dear.
You are brighter, than my thoughts,
Which despondency o'erclouds,
And in these perfidious climes
Expectation cheats no more.

A PHÆACIAN.
[Cretics.]
Torrents swel, tempests rage,
Danger frowns, pain devours,
Grief consumes, man betrays;
[Trochaics.]
Such our doom in ev'ry clime:
Yet among the thorns of life
Hope attends to scatter flow'rs;
And Credulity, her child,
Still with kind imposture smooths
Heaving trouble, and imparts
Moments, which suspend despair.
[Cretics.]
Goddess bland, soothing hope,
In thy smile I confide,
And believe, Jason comes.
[Trochaics.]
All, I see, delights my eye;
Ev'ry sound enchants my ear;
Those rude-featur'd crags are gay;
[Turning to the sea.
Winds in notes harmonious blow;
Hoarsest billows murmur joy;
And my long-forsaken home
Wakes the plaintive muse no more.