Medea of Euripides
An easy task had that been! Aye, and thou
A loving aid, who canst not, even now,
Still that loud heart that surges like the tide!
MEDEA.
That moved thee not. Thine old barbarian bride,
The dog out of the east who loved thee sore,
She grew grey-haired, she served thy pride no more.
JASON.
Now understand for once! The girl to me
Is nothing, in this web of sovranty
I hold. I do but seek to save, even yet,
Thee: and for brethren to our sons beget
Young kings, to prosper all our lives again.
MEDEA.
God shelter me from prosperous days of pain,
And wealth that maketh wounds about my heart.
JASON.
Wilt change that prayer, and choose a wiser part?
Pray not to hold true sense for pain, nor rate
Thyself unhappy, being too fortunate.
MEDEA.
Aye, mock me; thou hast where to lay thine head,
But I go naked to mine exile.
JASON.
Tread
Thine own path! Thou hast made it all to be.
MEDEA.
How? By seducing and forsaking thee?
JASON.
By those vile curses on the royal halls
Let loose. . . .
MEDEA.
On thy house also, as chance falls,
I am a living curse.
JASON.
Oh, peace! Enough
Of these vain wars: I will no more thereof.
If thou wilt take from all that I possess
Aid for these babes and thine own helplessness
Of exile, speak thy bidding. Here I stand
Full-willed to succour thee with stintless hand,
And send my signet to old friends that dwell
On foreign shores, who will entreat thee well.
Refuse, and thou shalt do a deed most vain.
But cast thy rage away, and thou shalt gain
Much, and lose little for thine anger's sake.
MEDEA.
I will not seek thy friends. I will not take
Thy givings. Give them not. Fruits of a stem
Unholy bring no blessing after them.
JASON.
Now God in heaven be witness, all my heart
Is willing, in all ways, to do its part
For thee and for thy babes. But nothing good
Can please thee. In sheer savageness of mood
Thou drivest from thee every friend. Wherefore
I warrant thee, thy pains shall be the more.
[_He goes slowly away._
MEDEA.
Go: thou art weary for the new delight
Thou wooest, so long tarrying out of sight
Of her sweet chamber. Go, fulfil thy pride,
O bridegroom! For it may be, such a bride
Shall wait thee,--yea, God heareth me in this--
As thine own heart shall sicken ere it kiss.
* * * * *
CHORUS.
Alas, the Love that falleth like a flood,
Strong-winged and transitory:
Why praise ye him? What beareth he of good
To man, or glory?
Yet Love there is that moves in gentleness,
Heart-filling, sweetest of all powers that bless.
Loose not on me, O Holder of man's heart,
Thy golden quiver,
Nor steep in poison of desire the dart
That heals not ever.
The pent hate of the word that cavilleth,
The strife that hath no fill,
Where once was fondness; and the mad heart's breath
For strange love panting still:
O Cyprian, cast me not on these; but sift,
Keen-eyed, of love the good and evil gift.
Make Innocence my friend, God's fairest star,
Yea, and abate not
The rare sweet beat of bosoms without war,
That love, and hate not.
_Others._
Home of my heart, land of my own,
Cast me not, nay, for pity,
Out on my ways, helpless, alone,
Where the feet fail in the mire and stone,
A woman without a city.
Ah, not that! Better the end:
The green grave cover me rather,
If a break must come in the days I know,
And the skies be changed and the earth below;
For the weariest road that man may wend
Is forth from the home of his father.
Lo, we have seen: 'tis not a song
Sung, nor learned of another.
For whom hast thou in thy direst wrong
For comfort? Never a city strong
To hide thee, never a brother.
Ah, but the man--cursed be he,
Cursed beyond recover,
Who openeth, shattering, seal by seal,
A friend's clean heart, then turns his heel,
Deaf unto love: never in me
Friend shall he know nor lover.
[_While_ MEDEA _is waiting downcast, seated upon her
door-step, there passes from the left a traveller
with followers. As he catches sight of_ MEDEA
_he stops_.
AEGEUS.
Have joy, Medea! 'Tis the homeliest
Word that old friends can greet with, and the best.
MEDEA (_looking up, surprised_).
Oh, joy on thee, too, Aegeus, gentle king
Of Athens!--But whence com'st thou journeying?
AEGEUS.
From Delphi now and the old encaverned stair. . . .
MEDEA.
Where Earth's heart speaks in song? What mad'st thou there?
AEGEUS.
Prayed heaven for children--the same search alway.
MEDEA.
Children? Ah God! Art childless to this day?
AEGEUS.
So God hath willed. Childless and desolate.
MEDEA.
What word did Phoebus speak, to change thy fate?
AEGEUS.
Riddles, too hard for mortal man to read.
MEDEA.
Which I may hear?
AEGEUS.
Assuredly: they need
A rarer wit.
MEDEA.
How said he?
AEGEUS.
Not to spill
Life's wine, nor seek for more. . . .
MEDEA.
Until?
AEGEUS.
Until
I tread the hearth-stone of my sires of yore.
MEDEA.
And what should bring thee here, by Creon's shore?
AEGEUS.
One Pittheus know'st thou, high lord of Trozen?
MEDEA.
Aye, Pelops' son, a man most pure of sin.
AEGEUS.
Him I would ask, touching Apollo's will.
MEDEA.
Much use in God's ways hath he, and much skill.
AEGEUS.
And, long years back he was my battle-friend,
The truest e'er man had.
MEDEA.
Well, may God send
Good hap to thee, and grant all thy desire.
AEGEUS.
But thou . . . ? Thy frame is wasted, and the fire
Dead in thine eyes.
MEDEA.
Aegeus, my husband is
The falsest man in the world.
AEGEUS.
What word is this?
Say clearly what thus makes thy visage dim?
MEDEA.
He is false to me, who never injured him.
AEGEUS.
What hath he done? Show all, that I may see.
MEDEA.
Ta'en him a wife; a wife, set over me
To rule his house.
AEGEUS.
He hath not dared to do,
Jason, a thing so shameful?
MEDEA.
Aye, 'tis true:
And those he loved of yore have no place now.
AEGEUS.
Some passion sweepeth him? Or is it thou
He turns from?
MEDEA.
Passion, passion to betray
His dearest!
AEGEUS.
Shame be his, so fallen away
From honour!
MEDEA.
Passion to be near a throne,
A king's heir!
AEGEUS.
How, who gives the bride? Say on.
MEDEA.
Creon, who o'er all Corinth standeth chief.
AEGEUS.
Woman, thou hast indeed much cause for grief.
MEDEA.
'Tis ruin.--And they have cast me out as well.
AEGEUS.
Who? 'Tis a new wrong this, and terrible.
MEDEA.
Creon the king, from every land and shore. . . .
AEGEUS.
And Jason suffers him? Oh, 'tis too sore!
MEDEA.
He loveth to bear bravely ills like these!
But, Aegeus, by thy beard, oh, by thy knees,
I pray thee, and I give me for thine own,
Thy suppliant, pity me! Oh, pity one
So miserable. Thou never wilt stand there
And see me cast out friendless to despair.
Give me a home in Athens . . . by the fire
Of thine own hearth! Oh, so may thy desire
Of children be fulfilled of God, and thou
Die happy! . . . Thou canst know not; even now
Thy prize is won! I, I will make of thee
A childless man no more. The seed shall be,
I swear it, sown. Such magic herbs I know.
AEGEUS.
Woman, indeed my heart goes forth to show
This help to thee, first for religion's sake,
Then for thy promised hope, to heal my ache
Of childlessness. 'Tis this hath made mine whole
Life as a shadow, and starved out my soul.
But thus it stands with me. Once make thy way
To Attic earth, I, as in law I may,
Will keep thee and befriend. But in this land,
Where Creon rules, I may not raise my hand
To shelter thee. Move of thine own essay
To seek my house, there thou shalt alway stay,
Inviolate, never to be seized again.
But come thyself from Corinth. I would fain
Even in foreign eyes be alway just.
MEDEA.
'Tis well. Give me an oath wherein to trust
And all that man could ask thou hast granted me.
AEGEUS.
Dost trust me not? Or what thing troubleth thee?
MEDEA.
I trust thee. But so many, far and near,
Do hate me--all King Pelias' house, and here
Creon. Once bound by oaths and sanctities
Thou canst not yield me up for such as these
To drag from Athens. But a spoken word,
No more, to bind thee, which no God hath heard. . .
The embassies, methinks, would come and go:
They all are friends to thee. . . . Ah me, I know
Thou wilt not list to me! So weak am I,
And they full-filled with gold and majesty.
AEGEUS.
Methinks 'tis a far foresight, this thine oath.
Still, if thou so wilt have it, nothing loath
Am I to serve thee. Mine own hand is so
The stronger, if I have this plea to show
Thy persecutors: and for thee withal
The bond more sure.--On what God shall I call?
MEDEA.
Swear by the Earth thou treadest, by the Sun,
Sire of my sires, and all the gods as one. . . .
AEGEUS.
To do what thing or not do? Make all plain.
MEDEA.
Never thyself to cast me out again.
Nor let another, whatsoe'er his plea,
Take me, while thou yet livest and art free.
AEGEUS.
Never: so hear me, Earth, and the great star
Of daylight, and all other gods that are!
MEDEA.
'Tis well: and if thou falter from thy vow . . . ?
AEGEUS.
God's judgment on the godless break my brow!
MEDEA.
Go! Go thy ways rejoicing.--All is bright
And clear before me. Go: and ere the night
Myself will follow, when the deed is done
I purpose, and the end I thirst for won.
[AEGEUS _and his train depart_.
CHORUS.
Farewell: and Maia's guiding Son
Back lead thee to thy hearth and fire,
Aegeus; and all the long desire
That wasteth thee, at last be won:
Our eyes have seen thee as thou art,
A gentle and a righteous heart.
MEDEA.
God, and God's Justice, and ye blinding Skies!
At last the victory dawneth! Yea, mine eyes
See, and my foot is on the mountain's brow.
Mine enemies! Mine enemies, oh, now