University of Virginia Library

ACT the FIFTH.

SCENE the FIRST.

THEANO descending from the temple, ÆSON and COLCHIANS.
ÆSON.
Where is the priestess, Colchian?

FIRST COLCHIAN.
There descending.
Pale consternation overcasts her visage.

THEANO.
O most portentous, execrable sight!
I led the virgins to rejoin your princess,
Who had escap'd their care—Mysterious heav'n!
Where was thy pow'r to check a mother's rage?
Where was thy mercy, when her savage hand
Unclos'd the jaws of slaughter on her children?

ÆSON.
Oh! all-surpassing evil!

FIRST COLCHIAN.
When and how?
Oh! speak.

THEANO.
A knife of sacrifice she seiz'd,
And in their tender bosoms plung'd its point.
We found her planted near their welt'ring limbs;
Her fiery eye-balls on their wounds were fix'd;
A ghastly triumph swell'd her wild revenge,
And madness mingled smiles with horror.

ÆSON.
Horror
Is my companion now. The race of Jason
One common crime hath swallow'd in its gulph.

THEANO.
The goddess bow'd in pity from her shrine;
When straight a voice oracular in thunder,
Whose awful clamour must have reach'd your ears,
Peal'd o'er the rocking temple. “Impious Creon,”
The voice proclaim'd, “thy guilt hath fill'd its measure;
“Then fall, thou victim to the gods of hell.”

ÆSON.
Tremendous sentence!

THEANO.
I with fearful steps
Haste to the palace.

ÆSON.
Make me thy associate,
And I to calm his violence will join.

SCENE the SECOND.

COLCHIANS, MEDEA rushing from the temple, PHÆACIANS following.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Behold, where, dropping with her children's blood,
The lost Medea comes.

MEDEA.
It is begun.
Now to complete my vengeance will I mount
The burning chariot of my bright forefather;
The rapid steeds o'er Corinth will I drive,
And with the scatter'd lightnings from their manes
Consume its walls, its battlements and tow'rs,
Its princes, people, palaces and temples:
Then, as the flames embrace the purple clouds,
And the proud city crumbles from its base,
The demon of my rage and indignation
All grim and wrapt in terror shall bestride
The mountainous embers, and denounce abroad
To gods and men my wrongs and my revenge.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
How is thy wisdom exil'd from thy breast,
Its native seat, nor leaves one trace behind
To shew, it once was there.

MEDEA.
Weep'st thou, old man?
Ha! speak; thou venerable mourner, speak
Thy cause of anguish. Hadst thou not a daughter
Wise like Minerva, like the morning fair,
And once thy dearest comfort? Hath she left thee,
Left thy decrepit head for grief to seize
And dash against the tomb? Weep, weep, old man,
The slight remainder of thy days exhaust
In lamentation; she is lost for ever,
Lost to herself and thee: and never more
Shalt thou the beauty of her face contemplate,
Nor hear again the wisdom of her tongue.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Thou dost mistake me for the stern Æetes.
I am but one among th'unnumber'd Colchians,
Who mourn in thee their nation's glory fall'n.

MEDEA.
I well deserve this pity—yours—and yours,
Who kindly weep around me. As I pass,
I wade through seas of tears—I hear no sound,
But sighs and groans from sorrow-beaten breasts.
Dishevell'd fragments of uprooted hairs
From the wild head of anguish fly about me.
Is it not fitting? When Medea mourns,
Shall not the skies assume their blackest robes,
And scowl upon mankind? Medea sighs;
Shall not hell groan, and heav'n reply in thunder?
It is the off-spring of the Sun, who wrings
Her helpless hands, who rends her scatter'd locks.
My heart is cold—The thread of life unwinds.
Now triumph, death—Thy conquest is Medea.

[She sinks into the lap of a Phæacian.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Repose her harrass'd limbs with tend'rest care.
If this delirious transport be no more,
Than some short tumult of the heated brain;
Refreshing sleep may cool that seat of thought,
And wand'ring reason sojourn there again.
Essay your vocal pow'r, harmonious maids;
Some new and soothing modulation chuse;
Dress in persuasive melody your numbers,
Whose artful cadence from the breaking heart
May steal its cares, and fold them in oblivion.

A PHÆACIAN
turning towards the sea.
[Trochaics.]

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Your queen recovers, and her look serene
Shews, the mild beam of reason shines anew.

MEDEA.
Grief, as o'erlabour'd with its cruel office,
Awhile is pausing, till its strength returns.
I will at least possess the short relief
To see my infants. Sure, my faithful friends,
From my sad heart no evils can erase
Maternal gladness at my children's sight.
Go, lead them from the temple—They will smile,
And lift my thoughts to momentary joy.
Not gone, my virgins? Wherefore this delay?
Why all aghast? Why tremble thus your limbs?
Ha! whence this blood? My hands are dipt in slaughter.
Speak, ye dumb oracles of terror, speak;
[Rising.
Where are my children? My distracted brain
A thousand dreadful images recals
Imperfectly remember'd—Speak, I charge you;
Where are my children?—Silent still and pale.
Enough—Fell pow'rs, your purpose is accomplish'd;
Medea's suff'rings are complete and full.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
The swelling passions struggle in her breast,
And find no vent. My ever-honour'd mistress,
This is the time for tears and exclamations.

MEDEA.
Can exclamations down the wind convey
From these retentive ears my children's groans?
Or can this murd'rous hand by tears be whiten'd?
Hear, Neptune! o'er this citadel emerge
To reach my crime; or send the pow'r of whirlwinds
To sweep my footsteps from the stable earth,
In rapid flight to Caucasus transport
And fix me shiv'ring on the pointed rock.
Let Nemesis revive the breathless clay
Of my slain infants, to the rav'nous beak
Their lips disfigure, and their tender fingers
Arm with the vulture's talons; that their wounds
May be imprinted on their mother's breast
With Promethean torture, and her heart
In blood bewail the error of her hand.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
It was the act of ignorance and madness.
Just Themis knows thy purity of mind,
And will with pity cleanse that erring hand.

MEDEA.
Not the disburthen'd sluices of the skies,
The wat'ry Nereids with the ocean's store,
Nor all the tears, which misery hath shed,
Can from the mother wash her children's blood.
Where shall I hide me from the piercing day?
What man will grant protection to my guilt,
What god afford me safeguard at his altar?
Thou must alone receive me, thou, O earth.
Then, while I crush my bosom on thy surface,
And grasp the dust within my struggling hands,
Distain my limbs, and strike my head against thee,
At length in pity of my suff'rings sue
The loit'ring gods to rear the friendly bolt,
And close my sorrows on thy peaceful breast.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
See Jason too unconscious of his loss.

SCENE the THIRD.

COLCHIANS, MEDEA, PHÆACIANS and JASON.
JASON.
Is she restor'd?

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Restor'd to full sensation
Of her increas'd afflictions, there she lies.

JASON.
They shall be soon diminish'd. Fate at last
Hath folded up its inauspicious scroll,
And fairer volumes open to our eyes.
I see, you doubt me all. That pale dejection
Reveals distrust and fear. I tell you, Colchians,
Prophetic Themis from her spotless shrine,
When she unfolds the oracle of justice,
Fills not her priest with more enraptur'd fervor,
Than now her present deity supplies
To my stability of soul, which marks
Success in prospect, and will shew me still
Not less, than Jason in the brightest hour,
Yourselves can witness, of his pass'd atchievements.
Perhaps she sleeps.

[Looking attentively on Medea.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Ah! no.

JASON.
Then, dearest woman,
Look on me, hear me, trust me once again.
I have resign'd Creüsa and her kingdom;
I have appeas'd my father; Creon's wrath
Is ineffectual now: then deign to cast
One glance on Jason, on thy suppliant husband
Return'd in tears of penitence and shame,
But with redoubled tenderness and truth.

MEDEA.
Oh! Jason—Thou and I have once been happy.
What are we now?

JASON.
Let thy forgiving breath
Revive my courage fetter'd yet and tame
With thy displeasure; and my active love
Shall soon transport thee from this seat of woe:
Then, as we bound before the fav'ring gale,
Shall fondly whisper, we may still be happy.

MEDEA
starting up.
Survey these hands.

JASON.
What blood is this?

MEDEA.
Thy children's.

JASON.
Inhuman Creon! Could thy malice chuse
No other victims, than my blameless boys?
I come, incens'd Corinthians, to divulge
This profanation through your madding streets;
Myself will guide your torrent of revolt,
And whelm its billows on this royal savage.

MEDEA.
If heav'n had once meant kindly to Medea,
Some tyrant had been found, some other hand,
Than hers alone to spill her children's blood.
The season for upbraiding is no more;
But know, thou wretched like myself, that madness
Arm'd my blind rage against them, and the deed
Now weighs me down to everlasting night.

JASON
falling on his knees.
O thou, whose equal balance to mankind
Distributes justice, and restoring mercy,
If pray'rs from this polluted breast may reach
Thy pure abode, exert thy righteous pow'r;
Drop thy asswaging pity on her heart;
On me exhaust the quiver of thy vengeance.

MEDEA.
Was not my portion of distresses large,
Ye pow'rs obdurate? Hath this heart refus'd
To sigh, these eyes been sparing of their streams?
Impell'd by indignation, still my spirit
Would challenge your injustice, which requir'd
My children's blood to mingle with my tears.
Take back the mighty mind, you fram'd to break,
First rent by anguish, then by guilt deform'd.

[Draws a poniard.
A VOICE
from the temple.
Hold, off-spring of the Sun; arise; repair
To Juno's shrine; reply not, but obey.

SCENE the FOURTH.

JASON, COLCHIANS and PHÆACIANS.
JASON.
Celestial presence, I adore thy greatness;
Yet thy tremendous voice, which rocks these bulwarks,
Appals not me, who bid destruction welcome.
Hope, which cements the structure of the heart,
From mine is moulder'd, and despair is lodg'd
Within the ruins.

SCENE the FIFTH.

JASON, COLCHIANS, PHÆACIANS and LYCANDER.
LYCANDER.
Gods! what new reverse
Hath cast the first of heroes to the earth?
Thy mariners expect thee; haste away.
Too high the ferment rises. Oh! recall
Theano's last presage of black events.
The wild impatience of religious rage
Stings ev'ry bosom. Our Corinthian dames
Range through the streets with torches in their hands,
Invoking Juno, hymeneal Juno.
An impulse more, than natural, directs
Those armed numbers to some hideous act.
They breathe demoniac fury on the palace.
Should Creon meet them, he must fall. Rise, prince,
I must attend thy flight. Our timely absence
Will save our streets from homicide.

JASON.
No, death
May reach me too.

LYCANDER.
For pity—Ha! the skies
Share in our tumult, and a bloody veil
Hangs o'er the sick'ning sun. The air wheels round us.
Grim Neptune yonder shakes his stormy trident.
Why heaves the loosen'd rock? Why drop these clouds
In threat'ning murmurs from their dusky folds
Streak'd with sulphureous gleams?

[Thunder, lightning and the stage darken'd.
JASON
rising.
This suits my soul
For its infernal journey all prepar'd,
A pale attendant on my children's ghosts
In Tartarus to dwel, while they repose
In blest Elysium.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Look, the holy priestess
Breaks from the palace in disorder'd haste,
And to her temple flies. In consternation
Old Æson too is nigh.

SCENE the SIXTH.

JASON, COLCHIANS, PHÆACIANS, LYCANDER, ÆSON and THESSALIANS.
ÆSON.
My son! my son!

JASON.
If thou dost bring fresh evils, thou art welcome.

ÆSON.
We found the harden'd king. My words were vain,
So were Theano's. With a desp'rate band,
Of life regardless, and contemning Juno,
Against her grove he sallies.

CREON
behind the scenes.
Since no longer
You dread my scepter, you shall feel my sword;
Which o'er your mangled carcasses shall hew
Its purple passage to chastise the author
Of this revolt, and chace barbarians hence.

LYCANDER.
The king's rash voice. He charges.

[A shout within.
ÆSON.
Hideous roar!
[Thunder and lightning.
O Jove, be merciful!

LYCANDER.
He gives the signal,
And shews the tumult through those livid flames.

JASON.
I hear the clang of arms. Unmov'd and cold,
My heart rejects that once-enliv'ning sound,
And sighs for dissolution. Pause awhile,
Sad spirit, till Medea's fate is known,
Then prompt my sword to justice on myself.

ÆSON.
That shout denounces triumph.

LYCANDER.
Yes, and safety
To all, but Creon. Give the torrent way.

SCENE the SEVENTH.

JASON, COLCHIANS, PHÆACIANS, LYCANDER, ÆSON, THESSALIANS and CORINTHIANS.
FIRST CORINTHIAN.
Where is the honour'd priestess? We will bring,
If she so wills, the sacrilegious head
Of our slain tyrant to her sacred feet.

SCENE the LAST.
JASON, COLCHIANS, PHÆACIANS, LYCANDER, ÆSON, THESSALIANS and CORINTHIANS falling back on each side of the stage, as THEANO descends from the temple.
LYCANDER.
Be silent, all. Theano from the goddess
To this assembly moves. Night flies before her;
Earth, seas and heav'ns are calm'd.

THEANO.
Ye sons of Corinth,
Old men of Colchis and Thessalians, hear.
At length the gods restrain their vengeful rod.
The dreadful scene is clos'd. Iolchian prince,
Thou from Æetes' daughter art disjoin'd.
Look, where the goddess through th'aerial champain
Sends in a chariot drawn by winged dragons
That all-transcending woman into climes
Remote, but whither is from thee conceal'd.

JASON.
Heav'n guide her fortunes. This shall govern mine.

[Offers to fall on his sword and is prevented.
THEANO.
Unmanly desperation! Will the grave
Hide thy disgrace, or ill-tongu'd rumor die,
When thou art ashes? No. Recall thy manhood.
Thou hast a father's kingdom to redeem.
Go, save a nation. These afflicted maids,
These aged Colchians to their homes restore.
Thus shall the censure, which thy frailty merits,
Be chang'd to blessings on thy gen'rous deeds,
And time's light finger loosen from thy breast
Its root of care, till peace of mind return.