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MEDEA. A TRAGEDY.
—Aeſtuat ingens
Imo in corde pudor, mixtoque inſania luctu,
Et furiis agitatus amor, et conſcia virtus.
AENEID.
LONDON: Printed by H. WOODFALL: And Sold by J. MORGAN, Pater-noſter-row. M.DCC.LXI.
[Price TWO SHILLINGS and SIX-PENCE.]
[]
TO THE KING THIS TRAGEDY OF MEDEA IS MOST HUMBLY INSCRIB'D BY HIS MAJESTY's
MOST DUTIFUL, MOST FAITHFUL AND DEVOTED SUBJECT AND SERVANT, R. GLOVER.
PROLOGUE.
[]THOUGH wild our theme, the grave hiſtorian's page
Hath ſanctify'd the tale through ev'ry age.
Who hath not heard of Argo ſent from Greece,
Of Jaſon's labours for the golden fleece,
And fond Medea's ill-requited aid
To that falſe hero, who his vows betray'd?
In ev'ry clime, where learned Muſes reign,
The ſtage hath known Medea's mournful ſtrain,
Hath giv'n the flying car, and magic rod
To her, th' avow'd deſcendant of a god.
The ſtorms of trouble, which afflict the great,
Teach private life to priſe its tranquil ſtate.
That truth the moral of our fable ſhows
Too well in ſcenes of unexampled woes,
Which here will ravage an exalted breaſt
Of merit conſcious, and with ſhame oppreſt;
Where love and fury, grief and madneſs join'd
O'erturn the ſtructure of a godlike mind.
Pow'r, wiſdom, ſcience, and her birth divine
In vain to ſhield her from diſtreſs combine;
Nor wiſdom, pow'r, nor ſcience yield relief;
Her potent wand can vanquiſh all, but grief:
In vain her winged chariot ſweeps the air
To ſhun that mightier ſorcereſs, deſpair.
The characters and paſſions hence expreſt
Are all ſubmitted to the feeling breaſt;
Let ancient ſtory juſtify the reſt.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
[]- JASON.
- AESON.
- CREON.
- LYCANDER.
- FIRST COLCHIAN.
- FIRST CORINTHIAN.
- MEDEA.
- THEANO.
- HECATÉ.
- FIRST PHAEACIAN.
COLCHIANS, PHAEACIANS, THESSALIANS and CORINTHIANS.
The ſcene is in the citadel of Corinth between a grove ſacred to Juno, and the royal palace, with a diſtant proſpect of the ſea.
[1]MEDEA. A TRAGEDY.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE THE FIRST.
LYCANDER
ſeeing THEANO advance from the temple of JUNO.
THAT form divine, by all rever'd and lov'd,
Moves from the temple. On her penſive brow
Sits holy care with gentleneſs and grace,
Whoſe placid beams humanity reveal.
She ſtops contemplating the ſea. Theano—
Why with that muſing aſpect tow'rd the main
Stand'ſt thou regardleſs of thy brother's voice?
THEANO.
Imperial Juno in an awful viſion
This morn preſented to my wondring ſight
The ſhapes of ſtrangers by diſtreſs purſu'd;
Whom to the refuge of this holy place
[2]I muſt receive obedient to her charge:
And lo! a veſſel turns her haſt'ning prow
To Corinth's harbour.
LYCANDER.
Ten well-meaſur'd ſtrokes
Of her ſwift oars will reach the ſhore below:
But hear my errand. Creon knows, thy altar
Unclad with garlands ſtill proclaims thy firmneſs
Againſt his daughter's marriage; then prepare
Thy hallow'd eye to meet his threat'ning brow;
Fence thy chaſte ear againſt his impious vaunts,
Which urge th' example of Almighty Jove
For his own thirſt of empire.
THEANO.
Say to Creon,
Kings ſhould aſpire to imitate the Gods
Not in their pow'r, but goodneſs; human virtues
More nigh to Heav'n's perfection may be rais'd,
Than human grandeur: Jove derides the toil
Of mortal pow'r, but ſmiles on righteous deeds.
LYCANDER.
Thus would I ſpeak, Theano, could my words
And thoughts be tun'd in harmony like thine;
But danger breaks that union in a palace,
And ſtrains the tongue to diſcord with the heart:
Then pacify thy goddeſs, when the king
Exacts my ſervice, if diſcretion wears
[3]A maſk of duty; kindly thou impute
Blame to my ſtation, and abſolve Lycander.
But look; yon veſſel hath diſcharg'd its train,
Who climb the hill with aged ſteps and ſlow.
Nay turn thy eyes; a ſecond troop of ſtrangers
March through the city. Sable is their garb,
Their mien dejected. This demands my care.
Farewel.
SCENE THE SECOND.
THEANO and COLCHIANS.
THEANO.
What forms are theſe? All-potent goddeſs!
I feel thee now; my viſion is accompliſh'd.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
O thou, who ſeem'ſt the guardian of theſe ſhades,
Which from the iſthmus ſhew their tow'ring growth,
The ſailor's guide through Corinth's double main;
Permit an humble ſtranger to enquire,
What pow'r is worſhipp'd here.
THEANO
aſide.
The very garb!
The figures painted in my recent viſion!
Thy feet, O ſtranger, ſtand on ſacred earth.
Theſe ſhades encloſe the venerable fane
Erected there to hymeneal Juno,
Whoſe preſence guards the citadel of Corinth.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
[4]Then let us lift our ſuppliant voice unblam'd,
That in the refuge of this hallow'd grove
Our exil'd feet may reſt.
THEANO.
Your ſuit is granted.
So wills the pow'r inhabiting that temple.
And ſay, ye favour'd of connubial Juno,
What are your names and country?
FIRST COLCHIAN.
From the banks
Of diſtant Phaſis, and the Euxin wave,
Loſt to our native manſions, are we come
Ill-guided Colchians to the walls of Corinth.
On king Aeetes' daughter we attend,
That boaſt of Aſia, to the Sun ally'd,
To Hecaté and Circé, more illuſtrious
In her own virtues, for her wiſdom known
Through ev'ry clime, the all-endow'd Medea.
THEANO.
Where is your princeſs?
FIRST COLCHIAN.
In that anchor'd bark,
Which to your haven from Iolcos ſail'd;
Where on his ſpecious ambaſſy to Creon
Her huſband left her on a lonely pillow:
At length impatient of his tedious abſence
She and her ſons have brav'd th' unſparing deep.
THEANO.
[5]Yet more unſparing, than the deep, is man.
So will this daughter of affliction find,
When her ſad feet are planted on this ſhore.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
How ſwift are evil tidings! While our keel
But lightly touch'd that well-frequented ſtrand,
We heard, th' ungrateful Jaſon would divorce her
This day to wed the daughter of your monarch.
THEANO.
If heav'n prevent not. Through the ſolemn ſhade
Direct thy view. That high-rais'd altar note
Cloſe by the fountain. Thither lead your princeſs.
This is a refuge, which no regal pride
High-ſwoln with pow'r, nor multitude inflam'd
By madding diſcord, nor invader's rapine
Have e'er profan'd. Return. Yon palace opens.
No friend of yours approaches. It is Creon.
Thou too be preſent, goddeſs, and illumine
The earth-born darkneſs of thy ſervant's mind.
SCENE THE THIRD.
THEANO and CREON.
CREON
entring.
Why do they paint Medea's woes to me?
A king ſhould lift his ſteady front on high,
And, while he gazes on the radiant throne,
[6]Where bright ambition ſits amid the ſtars,
The hopes, the fears, the miſeries of others
Paſs by unheeded in his contemplation.
Art thou come forth with thoſe ill-omen'd looks
To blaſt the public feſtival?
THEANO.
Howl, howl,
Deluded city; baniſh from thy dwellings
The genial banquet; fill thy ſtreets with mourners
To celebrate in notes of lamentation
A nuptial day offenſive to the gods.
CREON.
Thinkſt thou, thy prieſtly office can avail
To counteract the high deſigns of kings?
Go and with bridal chaplets deck thy altar,
Left thou provoke me to confound thy pride
Elate with wreaths of ſanctity in vain.
THEANO.
Not, that the holy fillet binds my temples,
Not, that before the altar I preſent
The public victim, or a nation's vows
By me are uſher'd to th' eternal thrones,
Misjudging monarch, is my heart elate;
It is, that virtue owns me for her ſervant.
Benevolence and pity guide my will,
Beneficence and charity my deeds.
Ev'n now, though deem'd importunate and proud,
[7]My ſoul bows down in heavineſs for Creon,
And at his danger ſighs in mournful warnings.
CREON.
Repeat thy warnings to the coward's ear.
My danger?
THEANO.
From that goddeſs, who inſpir'd
The Colchian princeſs to deſert her father,
To aid the Grecian heroes, and reſtore
Our loſt poſſeſſion of the golden fleece.
The voice of loud complaint from yonder beach
Already ſtrikes her ear. Medea—
CREON.
Ha!
What of Medea?
THEANO.
Is arriv'd in Corinth.
CREON.
Arriv'd?
THEANO.
She and her children to reclaim
A huſband and a father in that prince,
Whom thou haſt deſtin'd to Creüſa's bed.
CREON.
Thou, who obtain'ſt infinity of pow'r,
Lord of Olympus, king of gods and men,
Doſt thou regard thy ſcepter'd ſons below?
Say, ſhall a female hand o'erturn the baſis,
[8]Which I am founding to enlarge my ſway?
If ſo, reſume the diadem, I wear;
Its ſcanty circle I reject with ſcorn.
THEANO.
Ye winds, diſperſe impieties like theſe;
Nor let their ſound profane the heav'nly threſhold.
CREON.
Hence to thy temple.
THEANO.
Thou defy'ſt not me,
But her, whoſe awful preſence fills that temple.
Imperfect victims, inauſpicious off'rings,
And ſounds portentous have foreboded long
Her high diſpleaſure. Her apparent form
Stood near my pillow at the op'ning dawn,
And ſtrictly charg'd me to receive this ſtranger.
Think too, what lofty ſcience arms Medea
With more, than nature's force.
CREON.
I think it falſe,
And all the fabled wonders of her charms,
Thy legends too of inauſpicious off'rings,
Imperfect victims, and portentous ſounds,
What prieſts may publiſh, and a king deſpiſe.
THEANO.
Farewel, raſh prince. My duty is diſcharg'd.
CREON.
Stay. Doſt thou mean to give this Colchian refuge?
THEANO.
[9]Can I diſpute a deity's injunction?
CREON.
Go, dream again; procure ſome wiſer viſion,
Which may inſtruct thee to avoid my wrath.
SCENE THE FOURTH.
CREON and LYCANDER.
CREON.
Where haſt thou loiter'd to conceal th' arrival
Of this accurſt enchantreſs, and the purpoſe
Of thy rebellious ſiſter to protect her?
LYCANDER.
My lord, theſe tydings are to me unknown;
But further news of high import I bear.
Iolchian Aeſon, Jaſon's royal ſire,
Advancing now anticipates this notice.
SCENE THE FIFTH.
CREON, LYCANDER, and AESON with THESSALIANS in mourning garments.
CREON.
Thrice hail! my double brother. Do I owe
Thy timely preſence to our ancient friendſhip,
Or to th' alarm, Medea's flight might raiſe,
Who ſcarce precedes thy fortunate appearance?
My ſudden joy o'erlook'd that duſky robe.
AESON.
[10]It ſuits my fortune. Heavy with affliction
My weary feet are baniſh'd from Iolcos.
How my fell brother, Pelias, that uſurper
Of my paternal ſway was foil'd and ſlain,
Thou know'ſt. His ſon retreated into Thrace;
Whence he hath pour'd a ſavage hoſt of ruffians
With unexpected inroad, and ſo rapid,
That inſtant flight alone preſerv'd thy friend,
Thy ſuppliant now for aid.
CREON.
Diſmiſs thy cares.
Soon ſhall thy warlike ſon diſplay his banners,
Extend my frontier, and recover thine.
More of thy fortunes ſhalt thou tell hereafter;
But give to gladneſs this ſelected day
Of Jaſon's nuptials.
AESON.
Nobly thou reliev'ſt
A king's diſtreſs. Now ſatisfy the parent.
Lead me to Jaſon.
CREON.
Follow to my palace.
LYCANDER.
He is not there.
CREON.
What ſay'ſt thou?
LYCANDER.
[11]On the ſands
Alone with melancholy pace he treads,
As I but now deſcry'd him from this rock.
AESON.
With melancholy pace?
CREON.
His promiſe binds him
This very morning to eſpouſe Creüſa.
AESON.
Perhaps with freſh calamity o'erworn,
I doubt too much; yet hear me.
CREON.
Thy appearance
Removes all doubts. Lycander, find the prince.
Say, who is come to celebrate his nuptials.
AESON to LYCANDER.
Is he a ſtranger to Medea's landing?
LYCANDER.
I truſt, he is.
AESON.
They muſt not meet.
CREON.
Lycander,
See, thou prevent it. Send Theano to us;
And let her bring obedience: elſe her fault
Shall on thy head be puniſh'd.
SCENE THE SIXTH.
[12]CREON and AESON.
AESON.
Should my ſon
Once ſee Medea!
CREON.
Can her looks annul
A league like ours?
AESON.
Alas! thou little know'ſt her.
Her eye ſurpaſſes that refulgent ſtar,
Which firſt adorns the evening; and her talents
Exceed her beauty. Like the forked thunder
She wields reſiſtleſs arguments; her words
With more, than lightning's ſubtlety, are wing'd.
CREON.
Why art thou ſtartled?
AESON.
She is there—aſcending;
My ſight acquainted with her haughty ſteps
Shrinks, ere they touch the ſummit of this hill.
CREON.
Which is the far-fam'd ſorcereſs of Colchis?
AESON.
Too well diſtinguiſh'd by her ſtately port,
And elevation o'er that weeping train,
[13]She tow'rs a genuin off-ſpring of the gods.
Rage on her brow, and anguiſh in her eye
Denounce the growing tempeſt of her mind.
CREON.
Now, god of waters, ſince thy partial hand
Thruſts this barbarian outcaſt on my ſhores,
Back to thy floods the fugitive I ſpurn.
AESON.
What means my royal friend? Retire. Avoid
This formidable woman, who may wound
Our dignity. I know her ſoaring mind,
Which all enlighten'd with ſublimeſt knowledge
Diſdains the ſtate and majeſty of kings,
Nor ranks with leſs, than deity itſelf.
CREON.
Curſe on her beauty, and majeſtic mien!
But let the rumor of her pow'r be true;
The Sun, her boaſted anceſtor, may arm
Her hand with fire; let Hecaté and Circé,
The goddeſſes of ſpells, and black enchantments,
Attend her ſteps, and cloath her feet in terror:
We have our fiends; the ſorcereſs ſhall find,
That grief, deſpair, diſtraction wait our nod,
To wring her heart through all her magic guards.
SCENE THE SEVENTH.
[14]MEDEA, her two CHILDREN, COLCHIANS and PHAEACIANS.
MEDEA.
No more, I charge you. Noble minds oppreſs'd
By injuries diſdain the ſound of comfort.
Ye fiends and furies wont to leave your flames
At my command, and tremble at my charms,
Now, now aſcend and aid Medea's rage.
Give me the voice of thunder to reſound
My indignation o'er the earth and heav'ns;
That I, who draw my lineage from the Sun,
Am fall'n below the baſeſt lot of ſlaves:
That anguiſh, want, deſpair, contempt and ſhame
Are heap'd together by the hands of fate,
Whelm'd in one maſs of ruin on my head,
And daſh my ſtruggling virtue to the ground.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Why to our faithful counſels art thou deaf?
MEDEA.
Canſt thou by counſel waſt my exil'd feet
To my loſt parents, my forſaken friends,
And native palace?—Oh! I gave him all;
To him my virgin boſom I reſign'd,
For him the regal manſion of my father,
The lov'd companions of my youth deſerted;
[15]From foul defeat, from ſhame, from death I ſav'd him:
What more could woman?—Yet he weds another.
Me he abandons, and theſe helpleſs infants
Forlorn, unſhelter'd in a foreign clime,
To ev'ry outrage, ev'ry want expos'd.
Blaſt his perfidious head, vindictive lightnings!
Unhappy woman! canſt thou in the height
Of thy deſpair, thy rage and indignation,
Canſt thou purſue him with a heavier curſe,
Than to be plung'd in woes, which equal thine?
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Though ſtung with juſt reſentment, due regard
Pay to my age, fidelity and ſervice.
A long and painful traverſe from Iolcos
Haſt thou endur'd, nor ſince thy landing here
The needful ſuccour known of reſt, or food.
MEDEA.
Talk not to me of nouriſhment and reſt.
Food to theſe lips, and ſlumber to theſe eyes
Muſt ever now be ſtrangers.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
By the beams
Of thy forefather never will I ſee
Thy wiſdom bound in vaſſalage to paſſion.
Once more I warn thee, princeſs, to thy refuge.
This is the conſecrated bow'r of Juno.
Thou underneath the hoſpitable ſhade
Sit ſuppliant down.
MEDEA.
[16]Improvident Medea!
To raiſe another from deſtruction's depths,
To wealth, to glory raiſe him, yet thyſelf
Leave deſtitute and ſuppliant! Oh! what art thou,
Whom blinded men unerring wiſdom call?
Thou couldſt not pierce the thin, the airy veils,
Which from my eyes conceal'd the paths of danger;
Nor canſt thou now repel th' increaſing ſtorm
Of rapid anguiſh, which o'erturns my peace:
Down to the endleſs gloom of dreary night;
Hence, let me drive thee from my inmoſt ſoul;
That nothing calm may hover nigh my heart
To cool its pain, and ſave me from diſtraction.
SCENE THE EIGHTH.
COLCHIANS and PHAEACIANS.
A COLCHIAN.
Come on, ye ſoft companions in affliction,
Melodious daughters of Phaeacia's iſle;
In ſtrains alternate let us chaunt our grief:
Perhaps our miſtreſs we may charm to reſt.
A PHAEACIAN.
O Muſic, ſweet artificer of pleaſure,
Why is thy ſcience exercis'd alone
In feſtivals, on hymeneal days,
And in the full aſſemblies of the happy?
[17]Ah! how much rather ſhould we court thy ſkill
In ſorrow's gloomy ſeaſon, to diffuſe
Thy ſmooth allurements through the languid ear
Of ſelf-devour'd affliction, and delude
The wretched from their ſadneſs.
A COLCHIAN.
Let us melt
In tuneful accents flowing to our woes,
That ſo Medea may at leaſt reflect,
She is not ſingly wretched. Let her hear
Our elegies, whoſe meaſur'd moan records
Our friends forſaken, and our country loſt;
That ſhe no longer to her ſole diſtreſs,
Her deep-revolving ſpirit may confine,
But by our ſorrows may relieve her own.
FIRST PART OF THE MUSIC.
A COLCHIAN.
[IAMBICS.]
Ye ſtately battlements and tow'rs,
Imperial Corinth's proud defence;
Thou citadel, whoſe dewy top
The clouds in fleecy mantles fold,
Projecting o'er the briny foam
An awful ſhadow, where the might
Of Neptune urges either ſhore,
And this contracted iſthmus forms:
[18]Ah! why your glories to admire
Do we repining Colchians ſtand,
Ill-fated ſtrangers! on the banks
Of ſilver-water'd Phaſis born.
A PHAEACIAN.
[TROCHAICS.]
Pride of art, majeſtic columns,
Which beneath the ſacred weight
Of that god's refulgent manſion
Lift your flow'r-inſculptur'd heads;
Oh! ye marble-channell'd fountains,
Which the ſwarming city cool,
And, as art directs your murmurs,
Warble your obedient rills:
You our eyes obſcur'd by ſorrow
View unconſcious of your grace,
Mourning ſtill our loſt Phaeacia,
Long-remember'd, native iſle.
A PHAEACIAN.
[IAMBICS.]
O that on fam'd Peneus' banks
The nymphs of Pelion had bemoan'd
Their ſhady haunts to aſhes turn'd
By heav'n's red anger! hateful pines,
Which form'd thy well-compacted ſides,
O Argo fatal to our peace.
Thou never then through Adria's wave
[19]Hadſt reach'd Phaeacia's bliſsful ſhore,
Nor good Alcinoüs the hand
Of Jaſon with Medea join'd,
Nor ſent us weeping from our homes,
Her luckleſs train, to ſhare her grief.
SECOND PART.
A PHAEACIAN.
[TROCHAICS.]
Known receſſes, where the echoes
Through the hollow-winding vale,
And the hill's retentive caverns
Tun'd their voices from our ſongs;
Shade-encircled, verdant levels,
Where the downy turf might charm
Weary feet to joyous dances
Mix'd with madrigals and pipes:
O ye unforgotten pleaſures,
Pleaſures of our tender youth,
You we never ſhall reviſit,
Ill-exchang'd for ſcenes of woe.
A COLCHIAN.
From the poliſh'd realms of Greece,
Where the arts and muſes reign,
Truth and juſtice are expell'd.
Here from palaces and tow'rs
[20]Snowy-veſted faith is fled;
While beneath the ſhining roofs
Falſhood ſtalks in golden robes.
Dreary Caucaſus! again
Take us to thy frozen breaſt;
Let us ſhiver on thy ridge,
Ever-during pile of ice
Gather'd from the birth of time!
A PHAEACIAN.
Cheering breeze with ſportive pinion
Gliding o'er the criſped main,
With our treſſes thou ſhalt wanton
On our native ſands no more.
Fountains, whoſe melodious waters,
Cooling our Phaeacian grots,
Oft our eyes to ſweeteſt ſlumber
With their lulling falls beguil'd;
We have chang'd your ſoothing warble
For the doleful moan of woe,
And our peaceful moſs deſerting
Found a pillow thorn'd with care.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
ACT THE SECOND.
[21]SCENE THE FIRST.
JASON advancing from the end of the ſtage, THEANO on one ſide, MEDEA in the grove.
THEANO.
THE princely ſteps of Jaſon are in ſight.
He ſcarce conjectures, that th' indignant breaſt
Of her, he injures, pours from yonder ſhades
Its high-ton'd anguiſh. Yet, illuſtrious falſe one,
What ſtinging thoughts diſtort thy manly frame!
How have thy geſtures loſt their wonted grace
In this keen ſtruggle with upbraiding conſcience!
Thou ſoon before that inward judge arraign'd
Shalt hear me plead thy wrong'd Medea's cauſe.
This is the criſis— Too complacent hero,
By pride untutor'd, though miſled by error,
Thou wilt be calm and gentle to rebuke.
JASON.
Preſs'd by a father's abſolute decree,
Solicited by Corinth's potent lord,
Aw'd with the ſpecious ſound of public good,
[22]I have conſented, and the hour is nigh.
Oh! in ſome future hour of ſad reflection
May not my heart with ſelf-reproach confeſs,
This plea of public welfare was ambition;
And filial duty was a feeble tie
To authoriſe the breach of ſacred vows.
MEDEA
in the grove.
Ungrateful Jaſon!
JASON.
Whence proceeds this voice?
MEDEA
in the grove.
O fire of light, thou ſeeſt my wrongs.
JASON.
Again?
Imagination pregnant with remorſe
In ſounds unreal yields its birth of terror.
MEDEA
in the grove.
Ye arbiters of oaths, and plighted faith,
O Jove and Themis, hear!
JASON.
It is a voice!
Reſembling hers, when ſhe alas! is far,
No mockery of fancy.
Leans againſt the ſcene.
THEANO
advancing.
On his cheek
Health ſeems to wither. O'er his ſhaded ſight
The ſhiv'ring eye-lids cloſe. A creeping tremor
[23]O'erſpreads his fading lips, and dewy limbs.
Bleſs'd be theſe ſignals of returning virtue.
Hail! prince. Why ſtand'ſt thou liſtning? What alarms thee?
JASON.
An awful murmur from offended heav'n
Through yonder branches iſſu'd in a voice,
Which chill'd my ſpirit, and unnerv'd my ſtrength.
THEANO.
What didſt thou hear?
JASON.
Medea's well-known accents
Thrice did the vocal prodigy repeat,
Though ſeas divide her from theſe faithleſs arms.
THEANO.
There is no need of prodigy. Meer nature
In thy own breaſt will ſtartle, when thou know'ſt,
It was Medea's ſelf, who call'd on Jaſon.
JASON.
Herſelf?
THEANO.
The injur'd daughter of Aeetes,
But newly-wafted from Theſſalia's ſhore,
Thou may'ſt diſcover through thoſe parting boughs;
Where ſhe is ſeated near the fountain's brink
With her pale cheek reclining on the altar.
JASON
looking on the grove.
Stern deities of vengeance, and of juſtice!
Now paſs your ſentence, Nemeſis and Themis!
[24]My ill-wrought web of hated life unravel,
Which was not wove for happineſs.
THEANO.
Be patient.
JASON.
Peculiar woes through ev'ry ſtage of being
Were Jaſon's portion. Early I beheld
My father's crown uſurp'd. My youth ſubjected
To an inſidious tyrant was devoted
A ſacrifice in Colchis—So he hop'd,
And I wiſh now!—I triumph'd—Glory follow'd,
The ſource of new calamity to me.
Where is that glory? Serving ſelfiſh kings,
Abetting falſhood, perjury and fraud.
THEANO.
Turn thy attention from thy own diſtreſs
To feel, what others ſuffer by thy frailty,
Thy wife and off-ſpring. Liſten.
JASON.
I obey.
THEANO.
How could'ſt thou lead this all-excelling princeſs
From clime to clime, th' aſſociate in thy toils,
To fall the victim in a foreign land
Of thoſe unrighteous ſtatutes, which appoint
Imperious huſbands maſters of divorce;
How think, th' eſtabliſh'd practice of the Greeks,
[25]Or all, which varniſh'd policy might plead,
Could e'er abſolve thee from a ſolemn tie
With ſuch uncommon obligations bound
By thoſe ſuperior, thoſe unwritten laws,
Which honour whiſpers to the conſcious heart?
JASON.
O venerable woman, lend thy aid.
THEANO.
Attone thy fault. Repentance is heroic,
And holds its rank among the manly virtues.
JASON.
Yes, I renounce Creüſa, and her kingdom.
Yet ſee this breaſt with new-born terror beat.
Not all my trials through unnumber'd dangers
From monſters, famine, from the raging deep,
And dark-brow'd care have ſo confirm'd my courage,
But that I tremble at th' impending conflict.
I dread that ſcorn and fury, whoſe exceſs
May kill repentance, and provoke deſtruction.
SCENE THE SECOND.
THEANO, JASON and LYCANDER
LYCANDER.
The king, Theano, ſummons thee before him.
THEANO.
What time?
LYCANDER.
This inſtant.
THEANO.
[26]I obey his pleaſure.
JASON.
Thou wilt not leave me.
THEANO.
Thou haſt heard this ſummons.
Heed my laſt words. Maintain thy juſt reſolves.
Lycander, let thy conduct leave no room
For my reproaches, and the wrath of Juno.
LYCANDER.
Fear not; thy counſels ſhall be treaſur'd here.
SCENE THE THIRD.
JASON and LYCANDER.
LYCANDER.
I ſee a ſudden change. My ſingle charge
I will deliver, and forbear enquiry.
Long have I ſought thee, prince. The royal Aeſon
Is now in Corinth, and will ſoon accoſt thee.
JASON.
My father here? Why, multiply diſtreſs,
Accumulate perplexity and ſhame
On my devoted head, ye righteous pow'rs!
LYCANDER.
Prince, he is near; and I return to Creon.
SCENE THE FOURTH.
[27]JASON and AESON.
JASON.
Amaz'd, diſtracted, tortur'd, I retain
My veneration here. O ſacred head,
What from thy peaceful habitation calls
Thy ſilver hairs to theſe abodes of woe?
Or com'ſt thou wrapt in ſable to lament
Our mutual errors, and diſhonour'd names?
AESON.
Why I am here, why bearing this apparel,
Too ſoon will Jaſon know. But firſt reply;
Why on the ſea's waſte margin was my ſon
Obſerv'd to trace his ſolitary path;
When Corinth pauſes in her gen'ral gladneſs,
Her choral ſongs and minſtrelſy ſuſpending
For Jaſon's abſence?
JASON.
Better ſhe ſhould wait,
Whole ages wait, than juſtice be ſuſpended,
And the return of honour be unwelcom'd.
AESON.
Can I interpret theſe myſterious words?
JASON.
Haſt thou not heard, my father, that Medea
Weeps in that bow'r, invoking Jove and Themis
To witneſs what returns, ſhe meets from Jaſon?
AESON.
[28]What moſt I dreaded. Then my aged limbs
Muſt wear theſe garments ſtill unchang'd, thy country,
Thy friends, thy father's houſe unceaſing mourn.
The woes of exile more ſevere, than time,
Indent the ſurrows deeper on theſe brows▪
JASON.
The woes of exile?
AESON.
Yes, the race of Pelias
Force me to Corinth. Young Acaſtus reigns.
The gen'rous Creon promiſes his aid;
That aid will Jaſon cruelly prohibit?
JASON.
Then we begin to reap the bitter harveſt
From ſeeds, which ſelfiſh policy had ſown.
When I was hurry'd to theſe fatal walls,
And, gall'd with jealous fear, Medea left thee;
Heav'n in that period from the roll of fortune
Eras'd our titles, and the with'ring ſcepter
Shrunk from thy graſp.
AESON.
Nay look not thus entranc'd.
What draws thy eye?
JASON.
She riſes from the grove,
A Sun disfigur'd by a miſt of ſorrow
[29]Rais'd from our crime. Awake thee—What remains,
But that we fall before our known protectreſs,
Confeſſing both in Jove's offended ſight,
How much of weak inconſtancy hath ſtain'd
My name of hero, what ignoble guile
Diſgrac'd thy regal head?
AESON.
And who muſt ſave
Iolcos?
JASON.
She. Medea's gen'rous wiſdom,
Which in itſelf contains the ſtrength of armies,
And quell'd old Pelias, can dethrone the ſon.
AESON.
What frenzy guides thee? Follow me to Creon.
JASON.
Reſt thou with me.
AESON.
Inhuman! doſt thou covet
To ſee my age and dignity revil'd?
I charge thee, follow.
JASON.
Riveted, I wait,
As if congenial with this rock I grew
From its foundations, till Medea come.
AESON.
Revolter! ſhe is coming— But my eye
Shall not be far. Remember, thou doſt hazard
Thy country's love, perhaps thy father's too.
SCENE THE FIFTH.
[30]JASON apart, MEDEA, COLCHIANS and PHAEACIANS.
JASON.
How ſhall I face her injur'd worth, how chuſe
The moſt auſpicious moment to accoſt her?
MEDEA.
Why have I ſcience to command the moon,
To draw the ſpirits from the realms of night,
And trace the hidden pow'rs of baneful nature?
Why am I wiſe, unleſs to feel my ſorrows
With ſharper ſenſibility, and prove,
How weak is wiſdom ſtruggling with deſpair?
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Its ſuccour yet ſolicit. Wiſdom ſmooths
Each thorny path, and Virtue is her ſiſter.
MEDEA.
Old man, be ſilent. Hath Medea's grief
The leiſure now to hear thy moral tale?
No, let me loath my being, curſe the ſun,
My bright forefather, and upbraid the heav'ns,
That I was ever born. I will exclaim;
I will demand, ye unrelenting pow'rs,
Why your injuſtice terrifies the earth
With ſuch an image of diſtreſs, as mine.
JASON.
[31]This interview I ſee in all its terrors;
But further pauſe will turn ſuſpence to madneſs.
Medea—I am come. . . .
MEDEA.
And dar'ſt thou come
With that unmatch'd ingratitude and falſhood
To face the conſtant worth, thou now betray'ſt?
JASON.
I come to lay my errors in thy view.
MEDEA.
No, to my view diſplay Creüſa's beauty;
Dwell on her merit, who excels Medea.
JASON.
The deity preſiding o'er that temple
I call to witneſs, that my father's pleaſure. . . .
MEDEA.
And doſt thou urge thy father, thou perfidious?
Thy father!—Oh! that I had been thus wiſe,
And ne'er forgot the duty of a child.
Thy father gave thee a precarious being,
In its firſt flight of glory doom'd to fall
Freſh in its prime a victim to oblivion,
Had not I ſav'd and borne thee to renown.
JASON.
Yes, Jaſon's life and glory are thy gifts.
MEDEA.
[32]I gave thee too my love, my virgin love,
My friends, my country, my unſpotted fame,
My joy, my peace, all, all on thee beſtow'd;
What could a father more? Him too my pow'r
Snatch'd from oppreſſion, and his trech'rous brother,
Uſurping Pelias ſlew, that cruel Pelias,
Who on thy youth impos'd the dang'rous toil,
Whence I preſerv'd thee— But, my wrath, be ſtill.
Inconſtant, baſe alike, both ſon and ſire
Deſerve my ſcorn.
JASON.
Shall contumelious harſhneſs
Blot thoſe perfections from the ſun deriv'd,
And not one moment to thy wiſdom yield,
That thou may'ſt hear me?
MEDEA.
No, thou moſt ingrate
Of all, who e'er forgot their benefactors.
When the fam'd Argo fraught with Grecian princes
Pierc'd with its beak the ſandy verge of Phaſis,
What daring hand, but mine, their trophies rais'd?
The golden fleece amid th' enchanted grove
Had hung untouch'd beſide its ſcaly guardian;
Wild dogs and vultures had devour'd your limbs;
Your bones had whiten'd on the Colchian ſtrand.
I fearleſs ſtept between the narrow bounds,
[33]Which parted your devoted lives from fate,
With myſtic ſpels entranc'd the ſleepleſs dragon,
Bent to the yoke the brazen-footed bulls,
And gave you ſafety, victory and fame.
JASON.
I own thy merits; and the deep remembrance. . .
MEDEA.
Forever be deteſted that remembrance.
Curs'd be the ſkill, which fram'd your fatal bark,
Accurs'd the gale, which fill'd her ſpreading canvas,
But doubly curs'd the hour, the hour of ruin,
When firſt I view'd that ſmiling, trech'rous form,
And fondly truſted to the fair deluſion.
O that amid the terrors of enchantment,
When for thy ſake profoundeſt hell was open'd,
Some fiend had whirl'd me to the deſart pole;
Or that the earth dividing with my charms
Low, as her central cavern, had entomb'd me.
JASON.
I feel thy anguiſh, daughter of Aeetes,
Which would o'erwhelm me, had I leſs to offer,
Than my repentant heart.
MEDEA.
Thy perjur'd heart
Foul with ingratitude and guilt. Avaunt,
And give it thy Creüſa; I deſpiſe thee.
JASON.
[34]Think, who I am. Though criminal I ſtand
And mourn my fault, forget not, I am Jaſon
By fame in brighteſt characters recorded.
Deſerving thy reproaches, I endur'd them;
But ſure the luſtre of my name is proof
Againſt contempt.
MEDEA.
The recompence of falſhood.
JASON.
Hold, I conjure thee!— Nay, I will be heard.
When firſt I ſail'd for Corinth, all my purpoſe
Was to eſtabliſh by a league with Creon
Th' unſtable throne of Theſſaly, ſince cruſh'd
By fierce Acaſtus. Aeſon's ſtrict injunction
To wed Creüſa follow'd my arrival;
When thou wert diſtant from my ſight, and Creon
Would grant his friendſhip. . . . .
MEDEA.
But by thy diſgrace.
JASON,
Impatient woman!
MEDEA.
Could a king's protection
Be rank'd with mine, thou weakly-perjur'd man?
JASON.
Thou ſhalt not ſtop me by th' immortal gods!
I will proceed— Intemp'rate paſſion ſtifles
[35]Her breathleſs voice— Oh! majeſty! Oh! wiſdom!
Oh! features once divine! how long ſhall rage
Deſpoil your grace? No other form of beauty,
No qualities, or talents to thy own
Have I preferr'd. By empire's glaring bubble,
By policy's enſnaring voice miſled,
Or by miſtaken duty to a parent,
I ſwerv'd from ſacred faith. At thy approach
Light flaſhes through my error; to thy feet
Contrition brings me no ignoble ſuppliant:
The ſcourge of tyrants, vanquiſher of monſters,
Thy inſtrument of glory now moſt glorious,
That he ſubdues himſelf, implores thy pardon.
Oh! unadvis'd!— Obdurate!— While I ſue,
Thy unforgiving brow returns diſdain.
Think of thy children!
MEDEA.
Traitor, dar'ſt thou name them?
JASON.
Beware; deſtruction with a hunter's ſpeed
Purſues us both. Inextricable ſnares
Are ſpreading round us— Ha! be calm— Provoke
Ill fate no further— Weigh in wiſdom's balance
The pow'rful obligations, which aſſail'd me.
MEDEA.
Can they be weigh'd with conqueſt, life and fame,
The vaſt profuſion of my bounty on thee,
[36]Thou weak, thou blind, inſenſible and baſe?
No, my ſuperior ſoul ſhall ſtoop no more.
Though once from foul defeat and death I ſav'd thee,
I will not raiſe thee from thy grov'ling falſhood.
Let fortune's whole malignity purſue me,
I and my children wretched, as we may be,
Outcaſt, derided by the barb'rous herd,
Spurn'd by th' unpitying proud, with grim deſpair,
With beggary and famine our companions
Will wander through th' inhoſpitable world,
Nor ev'n amidſt our complicated woes
E'er think of thee, perfidious, but with ſcorn.
SCENE THE SIXTH.
JASON and AESON.
JASON.
Then let the tempeſt roar, tyrannic woman,
The billows riſe in mountains o'er thy head.
AESON.
Well, thou haſt ſeen her; while thy father's eye
Ak'd at the low ſubmiſſion of a hero,
Who with unmollify'd diſdain was ſpurn'd.
Say, will my gentle ſon perſiſt to court
The fellowſhip of fury, and abide
The acrimonious taunt, the ſettled frown,
The ſtill-renew'd upbraiding? Will my Jaſon
For this to deathleſs obloquy abandon
[37]His name of hero, while his arm rejects
A proffer'd aid to reinſtate his father,
Redeem his country, and refreſh his laurels
With want of action fading?
JASON.
There, O Mars,
Thou doſt provide a banquet for deſpair.
AESON.
No, for thy valour, ſon, a feaſt of glory.
Come, leave this melancholy ſpot. Return
With me to joy.
JASON.
I go— but never more
Speak to thy ſon of joy. My ſoul foregoes
All gentle thoughts. Its ſad relief is horror
From the grim pow'r of homicide and ravage.
O that this ev'ning, lighted by the ſtars,
And glimpſe of armour, I might turn my back
On Corinth's bulwarks; that the trumpet's clangor,
The ſhrill-mouth'd clarion, and the deep-ton'd horn,
The groans of ſlaughter, and the craſh of ſpears
Might blend their diſcord for my nuptial ſong.
SCENE THE SEVENTH.
[38]COLCHIANS and PHAEACIANS from the grove, and looking on JASON, as he quits the ſtage.
A COLCHIAN.
[Solemn RECITATIVE.]
Thou, who didſt yoke the brazen-footed bulls,
And fearleſs guide the adamantine plough,
Which Vulcan labour'd, o'er the direful ſoil
Sown with the ſerpent's teeth, whence creſted helms,
And ſpears high-brandiſh'd by the earth-born race
For thy encounter pierc'd the crumbling mold;
Thou conqueror, beware: more dang'rous foes
Doom'd to ſubdue thee in that palace wait.
A PHAEACIAN.
[TROCHAICS.]
Soft, alluring wiles are there
To ſeduce thee from the paths
Trod by godlike ſteps alone,
Paths of virtue, paths of praiſe.
Colchian monſters, Syren's ſongs
Might thy mortal frame deſtroy;
Theſe will kill thy glorious name,
Matchleſs Jaſon, then beware.
A COLCHIAN.
[39][Solemn RECITATIVE.]
Thou yet untainted hero, Ah! reflect,
That keeneſt ſorrow, poverty, or pain
Are light and gentle to the bitter darts
Thrice ſteep'd in gall, which Nemeſis directs
Againſt his boſom, who by merit paſs'd
Once drew th' enchanting melody of praiſe,
Then forfeiting the ſweet report of fame
O'er his irrevocable loſs repines.
A PHAEACIAN.
[TROCHAICS.]
Shall the nymphs of Tempe's vale,
Who in rural lays record
Thy perſuaſive love, that won
Kind Medea to thy aid,
Shall they change th' applauding ſtrain?
Shall the diſcord of reproach
Wound thy ear accuſtom'd long
To the muſic of renown?
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
ACT THE THIRD.
[40]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.
[41]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 PHAEACIANS.
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.
[42]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
[43]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.
[44]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 PHAEACIANS.
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;
[45]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 PHAEACIANS, 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,
[46]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.
[47]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 Aeetes
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 Rhiphaean 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:
[48]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
[49]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 PHAEACIANS.
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.
[50]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.
Firſt riſe, ye ſhades impervious to the ſight;
And you, ye ſable-ſkirted clouds, deſcend:
Us and our myſtic deeds with night ſurround.
The ſtage is darkened.
[IAMBICS.]
Thou, by whoſe pow'r the magic ſong
Charms from its orb th' unwilling moon,
Controlls the rapid planet's ſpeed,
And dims the conſtellation's fires;
While ſounding torrents ſtop and ſleep,
While fountain-nymphs in dread withold
Their mazy tribute from the meads,
And ſtiff'ning ſerpents hear and die:
Terrific deity, whoſe name,
And altar ſtain'd with human blood
On Tauric cliffs the Scythian wild,
And fell Sarmatian tribes adore;
[TROCHAICS.]
Wreath'd in ſnakes, and twining boughs
Gather'd from infernal oaks,
[51]Which o'er Pluto's portal hung
Shed a ſecond night on hell;
In thy raven-tinctur'd ſtole,
Graſping thy tremendous brand,
With thy howling train around,
Awful Hecaté, aſcend.
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.
[52]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 Aeetes' 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.
[53]On whom?
MEDEA.
Creüſa?— No?— My high revenge
O'erleaps a trifling maid. Old Aeſon— 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.
[54]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 PHAEACIANS.
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 PHAEACIAN.
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.
[55]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 PHAEACIANS.
A COLCHIAN.
[CRETICS.]
Native floods rough with ice,
Ruſhing down mountain-ſides,
Whirling thence broken rocks;
[56][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 PHAEACIAN.
[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
[57]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 found 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.
END OF THE THIRD ACT.
ACT THE FOURTH.
[58]SCENE THE FIRST.
JASON and the FIRST COLCHIAN.
JASON.
WHY am I ſummon'd?
FIRST COLCHIAN.
But once more to greet her.
JASON.
And be the mark of ſcorn.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Remind thee, hero,
Of all thy gen'rous labours ne'er deny'd,
But oft repeated to reſtore the wretched.
Shall thy diſtreſs'd Medea be the firſt,
Thou doſt refuſe to aid?
JASON.
It is too late.
She caſt me from her, and we now are ſtrangers.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
I have been long a traveller with time,
And through unnumber'd evils have I noted
[59]Thoſe born of anger to be moſt deplor'd.
Thou look'ſt no longer on that mutual care,
Your children's welfare. In the wrathful Jaſon
Benignity is loſt, ev'n nature dead
In the fond father.
JASON.
When I nam'd our children,
Her ear was deafen'd, and her ſcornful tongue
Was ſharpen'd into outrage.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
See them here,
The lively patterns of their mother's graces,
And ſharers in misfortune.
SCENE THE SECOND.
JASON, the FIRST COLCHIAN and the CHILDREN.
ELDEST CHILD.
Art thou found
At laſt, my father? In thy ſearch we paſs'd
Through frightful waters, and in roaring winds.
Come to our mother, who of thee complains;
And with a promiſe never more to leave us
Speak comfort to her.
JASON.
Comfort!
FIRST COLCHIAN.
[60]Doſt thou ſhrink
To ſee theſe pledges of a love like hers?
Oh! thou obdurate, who haſt thrown the beauties
Of virtue from thee in thy youthful ſeaſon,
When ev'ry ſoft ſenſation is moſt warm,
To claſp the cold deformity of guilt!
I have no off-ſpring— Muſt an old man's eyes
Teach thine their tender leſſon? Muſt a heart,
Which time and ills and care might well have fear'd,
Teach thee affection, and a parent's feeling?
JASON.
Support me rather, than depreſs me, Colchian.
I ſink— My ſoul diſſolving in affection
Hath quite unmann'd me.
ELDEST CHILD.
Doſt thou grieve to ſee us?
JASON.
No, my poor boys. My ſpirit bows before you
In love and rev'rence. Theſe indeed ſubſiſt
A common care exacting all regard.
What ſhall I ſay— Not cruel would I ſeem,
Not ev'n ſevere— Yet, Colchian, let me aſk?
Will ſhe. . . .
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Command her; ſhe is all ſubmiſſion.
JASON.
Amid the woes of ſeparating parents
Who like the father can protect the off-ſpring?
[61]Will ſhe commit them to my charge, that comfort,
Proſperity and honour be their portion?
ELDEST CHILD.
Ah! do not take us from our mother's arms.
YOUNGEST CHILD.
From our kind mother. Leave us.
ELDEST CHILD.
Leave us here
To weep with her.
JASON.
How conſtant are theſe children!
But they were never harraſs'd by her ſcorn.
SCENE THE THIRD.
JASON, the CHILDREN, MEDEA, COLCHIANS and PHAEACIANS.
MEDEA
ſtopping ſhort.
The man, who knew, and yet deſpis'd my worth,
I ſee before me— Still, thou reſtif heart,
Still doſt thou riſe tumultuous in my boſom?
Oh! thou muſt bend.
JASON.
Well, daughter of Aeetes;
Lo! I am here obedient to thy call.
MEDEA.
Once was the time, when Jaſon would have come
Uncall'd, unprompted, but by love alone.
[62]Why do I bring the waſted glaſs of joy
Back to my view!— Oh! torture of remembrance!
Oh! Jaſon! Jaſon!
JASON.
Speak.
MEDEA.
I cannot ſpeak.
JASON
aſide.
My ſpirit yields— this mute diſtreſs o'erwhelms me.
MEDEA.
Is it decreed to ſeparate thy name
From mine for ever.— Firſt to all reſtore me,
Which I relinquiſh'd for thee, to my country,
The veneration, which that country paid me,
My injur'd parents, and their loſt affection.
To my untainted, virgin fame reſtore me,
My once untroubled, unreproaching thoughts.
Impoſſible— Then hear, and yet be juſt.
JASON
aſide.
Oh! that this morning ſhe had thus addreſs'd me!
MEDEA.
Not love alone, not Hymen's common ties,
But fame and conqueſt, mutual toils and hardſhips,
All, which is marvellous and great, conſpir'd
To make us one. What ſtars in diſtant ſkies,
What ſeas, what ſhores unviſited before
Have we not ſeen together? And what perils
[63]Could each inhoſpitable clime preſent,
From which Medea hath not ſav'd her Jaſon?
Our toils at length ſurmounted, muſt we part?
My lord— My huſband— Father of theſe boys!
Shame, anguiſh, deſperation ruſh upon me!
They bind my heart in adamantine woes!
They weigh me down— They bear me to the earth.
Kneeling with the children.
Thus low behold the iſſue of the ſun
Imploring pity of the man, who ſcorn'd her.
JASON.
Canſt thou, O Juno, from thy neighb'ring temple
View this illuſtrious ſuff'rer at my feet,
Nor ſwift deſtruction from thy altar ſhow'r
On my perfidious head? Why rather, goddeſs,
Who haſt thy thunder like thy huſband, Jove,
Didſt thou not blaſt me, when, by furies guided,
I ratify'd but now th' unhallow'd contract.
MEDEA
riſing.
What haſt thou ſaid?
JASON.
Creüſa— is my wife.
He ſtarts at Medea's looks, then fixes his eyes ſtedfaſtly upon her, and after ſome time proceeds.
Medea— Ha! Have ſenſe and motion left her?
Her colour dies, which once outſhone the morn.
Thoſe radiant eyes, whoſe majeſty proclaim'd
[64]The ſun's own progeny, withdraw their luſtre.
Oh! thou moſt injur'd, utter thy complaints;
Give words to anger, and to ſorrow tears.
MEDEA.
Aſtoniſhment! What prodigy is there?
Look yonder.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Go— go, children, to the temple;
Avoid this ſight.
The children are led off by a Phaeacian to the temple.
MEDEA.
What wonderful appearance
Floats on the main, and ſtems the lofty ſurge?
JASON.
O execrable perfidy! which fills
The lovelieſt eyes with tears, the nobleſt heart
With pangs, the moſt enlighten'd mind with madneſs.
MEDEA.
See, where yon ſnowy concave in its boſom
Collecting all the motion of the winds
Drives the huge burthen to th' affrighted ſhore.
JASON.
O had the flood, ſhe ſees in frantic thought,
Ingulph'd that bark!
MEDEA
advancing towards him.
What art thou, moſt preſumptuous,
Who dar'ſt approach the limits of this region?
[65]Haſt thou not heard, that bulls with brazen feet,
And ſleepleſs dragons guard the fatal ſoil?
He hears unterrify'd— I ne'er beheld
Such majeſty and grace.
JASON.
Debas'd, deform'd
By guilt's polluting hand!
MEDEA.
He ſpeaks— What muſic!
He claims the golden fleece— What means this warmth,
Which prompts my hand to give the radiant prize?
But wilt thou prove then conſtant— ever kind?
I muſt, I will believe thee.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
What remorſe,
What conſternation petrify his frame!
And ſhe grows wilder.
MEDEA.
Hark. With flaming throats
The bulls begin to roar. The foreſt trembles.
And ſee, the dragon hither points his courſe.
See, his huge pinions beat the tortur'd air.
His monſtrous body rolls the blaſt before him,
And ſails amidſt a whirlwind. Doſt thou droop?
Be not diſmay'd, my hero. Stand behind.
Attend, ye demons, whoſe contagious breath
Defiles the ſun, who chill the fierceſt heart,
And lock in drowſy ſloth the nerves of ſtrength.
JASON.
[66]Aſſume thy terrors— Moulder me to duſt.
Now call thy demons, whoſe infernal graſp
May ſnatch and hurl me to my deſtin'd pains.
Let me be ſtretch'd on torn Ixion's wheel,
Or chain'd in burning adamant endure
The tooth of vipers, and the ſcorpion's ſting;
Oh! rather, rather, than behold thy ſuff'rings.
MEDEA.
Why art thou pale and languid? Thou art ſafe.
The ſlumb'ring monſter drops his ſcaly wings.
Thine is the fleece— Medea too is thine.
Jaſon throws himſelf back, and is receiv'd by the Colchians.
Confuſion and amazement!— Is he vaniſh'd?
Where am I?— On a rock, a deſart cliff,
Which overhangs the unfrequented waves;
No plant, but moſs, to hide its craggy ſides;
No ſhelter nigh my tempeſt-beaten head:
And lo! two infants clinging to my knees,
Who join my grief, and call Medea mother.
O thou falſe hero, whither art thou fled?
Hark— The wind only anſwers my complaint,
It is the ſea, which murmurs to my groans.
Ha! what art thou, grim ſhape embru'd with gore?
Why doſt thou wave that Stygian torch around?
Art thou Revenge from Tartarus enlarg'd
[67]To aid Medea? Come then, ſhake thy brand
Before my ſteps. To perpetrate thy miſchief
The winds ſhall lend their ſwiftneſs, hell its fiends,
The ſea its fury, and the Sun his flames.
SCENE THE FOURTH.
JASON and the FIRST COLCHIAN.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Reſume thy courage.
JASON.
Yes, my ſoul emerges
From dark confuſion, now ſhe knows the worſt.
My ſight is clear'd, my enterpriſe reſolv'd,
And hope enlarges my advent'rous ſpirit.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
I hear in wonder, prince. At leaſt prepare thee
To guard Medea in her new diſtreſs,
Whom Creon threatens to expel.
JASON.
The prieſteſs
Will be her ſafeguard, till. . . . .
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Reſtrain thy ſpeech,
And look behind thee. He is ſent from Creon
To drive her hence.
SCENE THE FIFTH.
[68]JASON, the FIRST COLCHIAN and LYCANDER.
JASON.
Lycander!
LYCANDER.
Prince, allow me
With this old Colchian to confer a moment.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Nay, ſpeak aloud.
LYCANDER.
Thou know'ſt my errand, Colchian.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Yes, if our princeſs willingly depart not,
Thou wilt by force remove her.
JASON.
Baſe and impious!
Now ſhould theſe hands, which yok'd the brazen bulls,
Divide thy limbs, and hurl the mangled fragments
From yonder promontory's brow to feaſt
The ſcaly monſters in the flood below,
It were a righteous ſacrifice to juſtice:
But thou art brother to the good Theano.
LYCANDER.
Whom thou doſt wrong in me. By her conſent,
And on Medea's promiſe to depart,
[69]I came to guide her with reſpectful care
To Corinth's verge. Compaſſion for this princeſs,
Dread of the king, and rev'rence for the goddeſs,
With all thy changes, prince, perplex my courſe;
That through the maze of this eventful day
I ne'er ſhall tread ſecurely.
JASON.
Nay, Lycander,
If thou art blameleſs. . . .
LYCANDER.
Stop. The king is here
To widen this confuſion.
SCENE THE SIXTH.
JASON, the FIRST COLCHIAN, LYCANDER, CREON and attendants.
CREON
entring.
I am told,
That with a penſive mien he left the place,
And join'd a Colchian of Medea's train.
Gods! he is here— diſorder'd— with Lycander
And that old ſtranger— all in ſullen ſilence
At my appearance— Jaſon— He replies not.
What are your conſultations? Speak, Lycander
LYCANDER.
My liege, I cannot, uninform'd like thee.
CREON.
[70]Then, as a king and father, I demand
Of thee, Theſſalian hero, why, confus'd
At my approach, thy countenance is fall'n?
JASON.
At thy approach? More formidable pow'rs
Could never awe this heart, which nought hath vanquiſh'd,
But its own frailties.
CREON.
Viſions.
JASON.
Hear with patience.
The tutelary deity of Corinth
Sits here in awful judgment. Virtue pleads,
And pity weeps before her. Thou and I
At this tribunal ſhew our guilty heads.
Long have we ſlumber'd on the couch of folly;
Let us awaken from the cheating dream,
Nor each rebuke the other for his weakneſs,
But acquieſce in Juno's juſt decree.
I muſt annul my contract with thy daughter,
And bid her now eternally farewel.
CREON.
Eternally farewel? I dream— Lycander,
Is not Medea gone?
LYCANDER.
My lord, the time. . . .
CREON.
[71]Inactive traitor! Go and ſeize that fiend.
JASON
to CREON.
Hold. Thou eſteem'ſt me ſtill the gentle Jaſon,
The pliant vaſſal of my father's will,
And thy ambition. I am chang'd— My heart
Is full of tumult— New-created rage,
Rage at myſelf, at Aeſon too and thee
Now ravages my boſom— Then be counſell'd,
Nor tempt the wild, ungovernable tranſports
Of one diſtemper'd with a foul aſſemblage
Of guilt, deſpair and ſhame.
CREON.
Preſumptuous boy!
Do thy exploits by ſorcery atchiev'd,
Do thy rude trophies from barbarians won
Exalt thy pride to brave a Grecian monarch?
When now, from all inheritance expell'd,
A needy exile, thou haſt no ſupport,
But from my throne, whoſe patronage is granted
To thy imploring father.
JASON.
I reject it,
And own no patron, but my ſword and name.
Can I want aid, the argonautic leader?
While Hercules, while Telamon and Peleus,
While ſacred Orpheus, and the twins of Leda
[72]Remain unconquer'd to aſſert my cauſe.
Why do I meaſure folly back to folly,
And here degrade my honours and renown
With boaſts reſembling thine? Farewel forever.
SCENE THE SEVENTH.
LYCANDER, CREON and attendants.
CREON.
Ha! I perceive his purpoſe. Haſte, collect
To one of his attendants.
A faithful band; ſecure Medea's veſſel.
Ye blackeſt demons of reſentment, riſe;
March by my ſide, and brandiſh you my ſcepter.
To another of his attendants.
Thou ſhut the city-gates. Let none depart
Without my licence. I will hold him ſtill,
And caſt him proſtrate at Creüſa's feet.
SCENE THE EIGHTH.
LYCANDER, CREON, attendants and THEANO.
THEANO.
I heard thy threat'ning voice, O blindly fix'd
In diſobedience to the queen of gods.
CREON.
Dar'ſt thou, ſole authreſs of thy ſov'reign's ills,
Confront his anger? Firſt on thee, confed'rate
To Lycander.
With this rebellious, ſhall my vengeance fall.
[73]By thy deſign'd miſconduct Jaſon twice
Hath ſeen Medea.
LYCANDER.
Chance, or heav'n's appointment,
Not my contrivance. . . .
CREON.
Seize and drag him hence;
Low in a dungeon hide him; chain him down
In damps and darkneſs.
LYCANDER.
Citizens of Corinth,
This place is holy. In the name of Juno
I claim protection.
THEANO.
Univerſal rev'rence
From your forefathers at the birth of Corinth
Hath guarded ſtill th' inviolable grove.
CREON.
Do ye recoil, ye cowards? Rebel, traitor,
I will aſſemble thoſe, ſhall force this refuge,
The ſeat of prieſtly craft to aid ſedition;
When thou in torture ſhalt attone thy crime.
THEANO.
Once more I warn thee to revere a goddeſs.
CREON.
No, I revere a god, the god of thunders.
Jove, thou did'ſt toil for empire; ſo ſhall Creon,
[74]And ſhew the earth a pattern of thy ſway.
For empire thou thy father did'ſt dethrone,
Thy Titan kindred plunge in deepeſt hell.
The giant lancing from his hundred hands
A hundred rocks to ſhake th' Olympian tow'rs
Thou didſt with labour vanquiſh. Shall theſe ſhades▪
Which awe the vulgar, ſhall the ready prey
To ev'ry firebrand, or the woodman's ax
Obſtruct a king? No, inſolent revolters,
Soon ſhall you ſee me lift the bloody ſcourge
Of chaſtiſement, unſheathe the ſword of havoc,
And vindicate my glory.
THEANO.
Impious man!
SCENE THE NINTH.
LYCANDER and THEANO.
THEANO.
Do thou conſult thy ſafety.
LYCANDER.
Be not anxious.
The king's own raſhneſs ſhall ſecure Lycander.
Though years may roll on years, ere we again
Shall meet in peace.
SCENE THE TENTH.
[75]LYCANDER, THEANO and JASON.
JASON.
Medea to thy temple
Is fled from all her virgins, who entreat
Thy kind permiſſion to purſue her ſteps,
Where'er her frenzy leads.
THEANO.
My help is ready.
And to thy guardian care I truſt my brother,
Whom Creon threatens with immediate death.
Yet ſomething whiſpers, ſomething ſure divine,
That other clouds of black events will break,
Ere a new morning riſe on troubled Corinth,
And we ſurviving each portentous ſtorm
Derive a ſad ſecurity from horror.
SCENE THE ELEVENTH.
LYCANDER and JASON.
LYCANDER.
Whate'er this myſtic language may import,
Prince, give attention.
JASON.
Speak.
LYCANDER.
Thy only courſe
Is to embark from Corinth with Medea.
JASON.
[76]It was my ſecret and determin'd purpoſe.
LYCANDER.
Nor yet a ſecret. Our ſuſpicious tyrant,
If he could rule his diſcontented ſubjects,
Would ſtop thy paſſage. But thy juſt deſign
The public ſhall befriend by me alarm'd
At Creon's threat to violate the grove.
JASON.
Can I requite thee?
LYCANDER.
Let me ſerve thee firſt;
Requite me after, as my wants may dictate.
Is not thy father yonder?
JASON.
Let him come.
Go and expect me ſhortly on the beach.
SCENE THE TWELFTH.
JASON and AESON.
AESON.
What have I heard? Th' exaſperated king. . . .
JASON.
Hath told thee truth. His daughter I relinquiſh.
AESON.
Off with this bridal pageantry, which mocks
With gay deluſion my diſaſtrous age.
[77]Reach me again my ſable; from thy hand
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.
AESON.
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,
[78]Benevolence and equity convey
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.
AESON.
What would my Jaſon?
JASON.
Take the holy prieſteſs;
Repair to Creon; with united counſels
Him firſt from impious violence diſſuade:
And then. . . .
AESON.
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.
AESON.
[79]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.
SCENE THE THIRTEENTH.
JASON
turning towards the temple.
Look down, connubial goddeſs, and with hope
Let thy appeas'd divinity indulge
A hero off'ring at thy holy ſhrine
His ſpirit humbled with repentant ſighs.
You too attend, ye favourable gales,
And ſwiftly waft us to the kind embrace
Of our companion, Orpheus; who ſhall breathe
His tuneful conſolation in a ſtrain
Of grief-compoſing energy to charm
Diſtraction's rage, till new-born reaſon ſmile.
Then with her children lovely, as the mother,
Shall blooming Tempé on its flow'ry lap
Again receive her; while Peneus' ſtream
Blends with the flitting warblers on his banks
His murm'ring cadence to delight her ear:
And I once more along th' accuſtom'd vale
[80]Shall by the luſtre of the ſilent moon
Walk by her ſide attentive, while her tongue
Unfolds the pow'rs of heav'n's reſplendent train,
Of magic numbers, and myſterious ſpels,
And feaſts with knowledge my enraptur'd ſoul.
SCENE THE FOURTEENTH.
COLCHIANS.
[IAMBICS.]
Sire of Aeetes, god rever'd
By our forefathers on their ſands
Bleach'd by the Euxin's reſtleſs foam,
Effulgent origin of day;
Who with illimitable view,
As from the amber-portal'd eaſt
Thy courſers fiery-man'd proceed,
See'ſt the deep-boſom'd woes of men;
[TROCHAICS.]
Whether plac'd in mildeſt climes,
Or beneath thy ſultry wheels,
Whether freezing near the pole,
All the various race of care.
[IAMBICS.]
Yet to thy ſad paternal eye
Can this diverſity of grief
Not one preſent through all thy courſe
To match thy own Medea's pain.
[81]Lo! ev'ry flow'r of wiſdom fades
Within her large and fertile breaſt,
A deſart now by tempeſts rang'd,
The ſeat of wild diſcordant thoughts.
[TROCHAICS.]
God of wiſdom and of light,
O relume her darken'd ſoul!
Let her, though begirt with ills,
Still thy progeny be known.
END OF THE FOURTH ACT.
ACT THE FIFTH.
[82]SCENE THE FIRST.
THEANO deſcending from the temple, AESON and COLCHIANS.
AESON.
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?
AESON.
Oh! all-ſurpaſſing evil!
FIRST COLCHIAN.
When and how?
Oh! ſpeak.
THEANO.
[83]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.
AESON.
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."
AESON.
Tremendous ſentence!
THEANO.
I with fearful ſteps
Haſte to the palace.
AESON.
Make me thy aſſociate,
And I to calm his violence will join.
SCENE THE SECOND.
[84]COLCHIANS, MEDEA ruſhing from the temple, PHAEACIANS 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
[85]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 Aeetes.
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.
[86]My heart is cold— The thread of life unwinds.
Now triumph, death— Thy conqueſt is Medea.
She ſinks into the lap of a Phaeacian.
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 PHAEACIAN
turning towards the ſea.
[TROCHAICS.]
Azure god, whoſe active waters
Beat with endleſs toil below,
Calm the ruder blaſts to ſlumber;
While to yonder grove, which bends
Stately o'er thy ſhaded boſom,
Softly-ſighing gales aſpire.
And, ye zephyrs, which aſcending
Fan the plumy verdure there,
Lulling whiſpers, drowſy murmurs
Through the trembling foliage breathe
[87]O'er the wakeful brow of ſorrow
Care-beguiling ſleep to ſpread.
Or my gently-ſoothing meaſure
On your downy pinions bear
Through the grief-diſtemper'd ſpirit
With deluſion ſweet to ſteal,
Till, on muſic's lap diſſolving,
Madneſs lull its weary'd head.
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
[88]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.
[89]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, PHAEACIANS and JASON.
JASON.
Is ſhe reſtor'd?
FIRST COLCHIAN.
[90]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
[91]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.
[92]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.
[93]JASON, COLCHIANS and PHAEACIANS.
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, PHAEACIANS 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.
[94]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 Aeſon too is nigh.
SCENE THE SIXTH.
[95]JASON, COLCHIANS, PHAEACIANS, LYCANDER, AESON and THESSALIANS.
AESON.
My ſon! my ſon!
JASON.
If thou doſt bring freſh evils, thou art welcome.
AESON.
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.
AESON.
Hideous roar!
Thunder and lightning.
O Jove, be merciful!
LYCANDER.
[96]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.
AESON.
That ſhout denounces triumph.
LYCANDER.
Yes, and ſafety
To all, but Creon. Give the torrent way.
SCENE THE SEVENTH.
JASON, COLCHIANS, PHAEACIANS, LYCANDER, AESON, 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.
[97]JASON, COLCHIANS, PHAEACIANS, LYCANDER, AESON, 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 Aeetes' 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.
[98]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.
END OF THE LAST ACT.
Appendix A ERRATA.
- In Page 9, Line 7, for Tydings read Tidings ▪
- 22, Line 9, for fire read ſire.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2016). TEI. 3577 Medea A tragedy. University of Oxford Text Archive. University of Oxford, License: Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License [http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/]. https://hdl.handle.net/11378/0000-0005-D240-5