The Argonautica
such nameless dishonour.”
She spake, and brought a casket wherein lay many drugs, some for
healing, others for killing, and placing it upon her knees she wept.
And she drenched her bosom with ceaseless tears, which flowed in
torrents as she sat, bitterly bewailing her own fate. And she longed to
choose a murderous drug to taste it, and now she was loosening the
bands of the casket eager to take it forth, unhappy maid! But suddenly
a deadly fear of hateful Hades came upon her heart. And long she held
back in speechless horror, and all around her thronged visions of the
pleasing cares of life. She thought of all the delightful things that
are among the living, she thought of her joyous playmates, as a maiden
will; and the sun grew sweeter than ever to behold, seeing that in
truth her soul yearned for all. And she put the casket again from off
her knees, all changed by the prompting of Hera, and no more did she
waver in purpose; but longed for the rising dawn to appear quickly,
that she might give him the charms to work the spell as she had
promised, and meet him face to face. And often did she loosen the bolts
of her door, to watch for the faint gleam: and welcome to her did the
dayspring shed its light, and folk began to stir throughout the city.
Then Argus bade his brothers remain there to learn the maiden’s mind
and plans, but himself turned back and went to the ship.
Now soon as ever the maiden saw the light of dawn, with her hands she
gathered up her golden tresses which were floating round her shoulders
in careless disarray, and bathed her tear-stained cheeks, and made her
skin shine with ointment sweet as nectar; and she donned a beautiful
robe, fitted with well-bent clasps, and above on her head, divinely
fair, she threw a veil gleaming like silver. And there, moving to and
fro in the palace, she trod the ground forgetful of the heaven-sent
woes thronging round her and of others that were destined to follow.
And she called to her maids. Twelve they were, who lay during the night
in the vestibule of her fragrant chamber, young as herself, not yet
sharing the bridal couch, and she bade them hastily yoke the mules to
the chariot to bear her to the beauteous shrine of Hecate. Thereupon
the handmaids were making ready the chariot; and Medea meanwhile took
from the hollow casket a charm which men say is called the charm of
Prometheus. If a man should anoint his body therewithal, having first
appeased the Maiden, the only-begotten, with sacrifice by night, surely
that man could not be wounded by the stroke of bronze nor would he
flinch from blazing fire; but for that day he would prove superior both
in prowess and in might. It shot up first-born when the ravening eagle
on the rugged flanks of Caucasus let drip to the earth the blood-like
ichor[25] of tortured Prometheus. And its flower appeared a cubit above
ground in colour like the Corycian crocus, rising on twin stalks; but
in the earth the root was like newly-cut flesh. The dark juice of it,
like the sap of a mountain-oak, she had gathered in a Caspian shell to
make the charm withal, when she had first bathed in seven ever-flowing
streams, and had called seven times on Brimo, nurse of youth,
night-wandering Brimo, of the underworld, queen among the dead,—in the
gloom of night, clad in dusky garments. And beneath, the dark earth
shook and bellowed when the Titanian root was cut; and the son of
Iapetus himself groaned, his soul distraught with pain. And she brought
the charm forth and placed it in the fragrant band which engirdled her,
just beneath her bosom, divinely fair. And going forth she mounted the
swift chariot, and with her went two handmaidens on each side. And she
herself took the reins and in her right hand the well-fashioned whip,
and drove through the city; and the rest, the handmaids, laid their
hands on the chariot behind and ran along the broad highway; and they
kilted up their light robes above their white knees. And even as by the
mild waters of Parthenius, or after bathing in the river Amnisus,
Leto’s daughter stands upon her golden chariot and courses over the
hills with her swift-footed roes, to greet from afar some
richly-steaming hecatomb; and with her come the nymphs in attendance,
gathering, some at the spring of Amnisus itself, others by the glens
and many-fountained peaks; and round her whine and fawn the beasts
cowering as she moves along: thus they sped through the city; and on
both sides the people gave way, shunning the eyes of the royal maiden.
But when she had left the city’s well paved streets, and was
approaching the shrine as she drove over the plains, then she alighted
eagerly from the smooth-running chariot and spake as follows among her
maidens:
“Friends, verily have I sinned greatly and took no heed not to go among
the stranger-folk[26] who roam over our land. The whole city is smitten
with dismay; wherefore no one of the women who formerly gathered here
day by day has now come hither. But since we have come and no one else
draws near, come, let us satisfy our souls without stint with soothing
song, and when we have plucked the fair flowers amid the tender grass,
that very hour will we return. And with many a gift shall ye reach home
this very day, if ye will gladden me with this desire of mine. For
Argus pleads with me, also Chalciope herself; but this that ye hear
from me keep silently in your hearts, lest the tale reach my father’s
ears. As for yon stranger who took on him the task with the oxen, they
bid me receive his gifts and rescue him from the deadly contest. And I
approved their counsel, and I have summoned him to come to my presence
apart from his comrades, so that we may divide the gifts among
ourselves if he bring them in his hands, and in return may give him a
baleful charm. But when he comes, do ye stand aloof.”
So she spake, and the crafty counsel pleased them all. And straightway
Argus drew Aeson’s son apart from his comrades as soon as he heard from
his brothers that Medea had gone at daybreak to the holy shrine of
Hecate, and led him over the plain; and with them went Mopsus, son of
Ampycus, skilled to utter oracles from the appearance of birds, and
skilled to give good counsel to those who set out on a journey.
Never yet had there been such a man in the days of old, neither of all
the heroes of the lineage of Zeus himself, nor of those who sprung from
the blood of the other gods, as on that day the bride of Zeus made
Jason, both to look upon and to hold converse with. Even his comrades
wondered as they gazed upon him, radiant with manifold graces; and the
son of Ampycus rejoiced in their journey, already foreboding how all
would end.
Now by the path along the plain there stands near the shrine a poplar
with its crown of countless leaves, whereon often chattering crows
would roost. One of them meantime as she clapped her wings aloft in the
branches uttered the counsels of Hera:
“What a pitiful seer is this, that has not the wit to conceive even
what children know, how that no maiden will say a word of sweetness or
love to a youth when strangers be near. Begone, sorry prophet, witless
one; on thee neither Cypris nor the gentle Loves breathe in their
kindness.”
She spake chiding, and Mopsus smiled to hear the god-sent voice of the
bird, and thus addressed them: “Do thou, son of Aeson, pass on to the
temple, where thou wilt find the maiden; and very kind will her
greeting be to thee through the prompting of Cypris, who will be thy
helpmate in the contest, even as Phineus, Agenor’s son, foretold. But
we two, Argus and I, will await thy return, apart in this very spot; do
thou all alone be a suppliant and win her over with prudent words.”
He spake wisely, and both at once gave approval. Nor was Medea’s heart
turned to other thoughts, for all her singing, and never a song that
she essayed pleased her long in her sport. But in confusion she ever
faltered, nor did she keep her eyes resting quietly upon the throng of
her handmaids; but to the paths far off she strained her gaze, turning
her face aside. Oft did her heart sink fainting within her bosom
whenever she fancied she heard passing by the sound of a footfall or of
the wind. But soon he appeared to her longing eyes, striding along
loftily, like Sirius coming from ocean, which rises fair and clear to
see, but brings unspeakable mischief to flocks; thus then did Aeson’s
son come to her, fair to see, but the sight of him brought love-sick
care. Her heart fell from out her bosom, and a dark mist came over her
eyes, and a hot blush covered her cheeks. And she had no strength to
lift her knees backwards or forwards, but her feet beneath were rooted
to the ground; and meantime all her handmaidens had drawn aside. So
they two stood face to face without a word, without a sound, like oaks
or lofty pines, which stand quietly side by side on the mountains when
the wind is still; then again, when stirred by the breath of the wind,
they murmur ceaselessly; so they two were destined to tell out all
their tale, stirred by the breath of Love. And Aeson’s son saw that she
had fallen into some heaven-sent calamity, and with soothing words thus
addressed her:
“Why, pray, maiden, dost thou fear me so much, all alone as I am? Never
was I one of these idle boasters such as other men are—not even
aforetime, when I dwelt in my own country. Wherefore, maiden, be not
too much abashed before me, either to enquire whatever thou wilt or to
speak thy mind. But since we have met one another with friendly hearts,
in a hallowed spot, where it is wrong to sin, speak openly and ask
questions, and beguile me not with pleasing words, for at the first
thou didst promise thy sister to give me the charms my heart desires. I
implore thee by Hecate herself, by thy parents, and by Zeus who holds
his guardian hand over strangers and suppliants; I come here to thee
both a suppliant and a stranger, bending the knee in my sore need. For
without thee and thy sister never shall I prevail in the grievous
contest. And to thee will I render thanks hereafter for thy aid, as is
right and fitting for men who dwell far oft, making glorious thy name
and fame; and the rest of the heroes, returning to Hellas, will spread
thy renown and so will the heroes’ wives and mothers, who now perhaps
are sitting on the shore and making moan for us; their painful
affliction thou mightest scatter to the winds. In days past the maiden
Ariadne, daughter of Minos, with kindly intent rescued Theseus from
grim contests—the maiden whom Pasiphae daughter of Helios bare. But
she, when Minos had lulled his wrath to rest, went aboard the ship with
him and left her fatherland; and her even the immortal gods loved, and,
as a sign in mid-sky, a crown of stars, which men call Ariadne’s crown,
rolls along all night among the heavenly constellations. So to thee too
shall be thanks from the gods, if thou wilt save so mighty an array of
chieftains. For surely from thy lovely form thou art like to excel in
gentle courtest.”
Thus he spake, honouring her; and she cast her eyes down with a smile
divinely sweet; and her soul melted within her, uplifted by his praise,
and she gazed upon him face to face; nor did she know what word to
utter first, but was eager to pour out everything at once. And forth
from her fragrant girdle ungrudgingly she brought out the charm; and he
at once received it in his hands with joy. And she would even have
drawn out all her soul from her breast and given it to him, exulting in
his desire; so wonderfully did love flash forth a sweet flame from the
golden head of Aeson’s son; and he captivated her gleaming eyes; and
her heart within grew warm, melting away as the dew melts away round
roses when warmed by the morning’s light. And now both were fixing