Mine she became.--Her father cursed his child; But mine she was, whether I would or no.
"Twas she that won me that mysterious Fleece; She was my guide to that dank horror-cave Where dwelt the dragon, guardian of the prize, The which I slew, and bore the Fleece away.
Since then I see, each time I search her eyes, That hideous serpent blinking back at me, And shudder when I call her wife!-- At last We sailed away. Her brother fell.
KING (_quickly_).
She slew him?
JASON. The G.o.ds" hand smote him down. Her aged father, With curses on his lips for her, for me, For all our days to come, with bleeding nails Dug his own grave, and laid him down to die, So goes the tale--grim victim of his own Rash pa.s.sion.
KING. Dread beginning of your life Together!
JASON. Ay, and, as the days wore on, More dreadful still.
KING. Thine uncle--what of him?
JASON. For four long years some G.o.d made sport of us And kept us wandering far from hearth and home O"er land and sea. Meanwhile, pent up with her Within the narrow confines of our bark, Seeing her face each moment of the day, The edge of my first shuddering fear grew blunt.
The past was past.--So she became my wife.
KING. When home thou camest, what befell thee there?
JASON. Time pa.s.sed; the memory of those ghastly days In Colchis dimmer grew and mistier.
I, the proud Greek, now half barbarian grown, Companioned by my wife, barbarian too, Sought once again my home-land. Joyfully The people cried G.o.dspeed! as forth I fared Long years agone. Of joyfuller greetings now, When I returned a victor, I had dreamed.
But lo, the busy streets grew still as death When I approached, and whoso met me, shrank Back in dismay! The tale, grown big with horrors, Of all that chanced in Colchis had bred fear And hatred in this foolish people"s hearts.
They fled my face, heaped insults on my wife-- _Mine_ she was, too; who flouted her, struck me!
This evil talk my uncle slily fed; And when I made demand that he yield up The kingdom of my fathers, stolen by him And kept from me by craft, he made reply That I must put away this foreign wife, For she was hateful in his eyes, he feared Her dark and dreadful deeds! If I refused, My fatherland, his kingdom, I must flee.
KING. And thou--?
JASON. What could I? Was she not my wife, That trusted to my arm to keep her safe?
Who challenged her, was he not then my foe?
Why, had he named some easier behest, By Heaven, I had obeyed not even that!
Then how grant this? I laughed at his command.
KING. And he--?
JASON. Spake doom of banishment for both.
Forth from Iolcos on that selfsame day We must depart, he said. But I would not, And stayed.
Forthwith a grievous illness seized The king, and through the town a murmur ran Whisp"ring strange tidings: How the aged king, Seated before his household shrine, whereon They had hung the Fleece in honor of the G.o.d, Gazed without ceasing on that golden prize, And oft would cry that thence his brother"s face Looked down on him,--my father"s, whom he slew By guile, disputing of the Argo-quest.
Ay, that dead face peered down upon him now From every glittering lock of that bright Fleece, In search of which, false man! he sent me forth To distant lands, in hope that I should perish!
At last, when all the king"s house saw their need, To me for succor his proud daughters came, Begging my wife to heal him by her skill.
But I cried, "No! Am I to save the man Who plotted certain death for me and mine?"
And those proud maidens turned again in tears.
I shut me up within my house, unheeding Aught else that pa.s.sed. Weeping, they came again, And yet again; each time I said them nay.
And then one night, as I lay sleeping, came A dreadful cry before my door! I waked To find Acastus, my false uncle"s son, Storming my portal with loud, frenzied blows, Calling me murderer, slayer of his sire!
That night the aged king had pa.s.sed from life.
Up from my couch I sprang, and sought to speak, But vainly, for the people"s howls of rage Drowned my weak cries. Then one among them cast A stone, then others. But I drew my blade And through the mob to safety cut my way.
Since then I"ve wandered all fair h.e.l.las o"er, Reviled of men, a torment to myself.
And, if thou, too, refuse to succor me, Then am I lost indeed!
KING. Nay, I have sworn And I will keep my oath. But this thy wife--
JASON. Hear me, O king, before thou end that speech!
Needs must thou take us both, or none at all!
I were a happy man,--ay, born anew-- Were she but gone forever. But no, no!
I must protect her--for she trusted me.
KING. These magic arts she knows--"tis them I fear.
The power to injure, spells the will to do it.
Besides, these strange, suspicious deeds of hers-- These are not all her guilt.
JASON. Give her one chance.
Then, if she stay not quiet, hound her forth, Hunt her, and slay her, me, and these my babes.
Yet, till that time, I pray thee let her try If she can live at peace with this thy folk.
This boon I crave of thee by mightiest Zeus, The G.o.d of strangers--ay, and call upon The ancient bond of friendship that, long since, Our fathers formed, mine in Iolcos, thine In Corinth here. On that long-vanished day They dreamed there might fall need of such a tie.
And, now that need is here, do thou thy part And succor me, lest in like evil pa.s.s Thou make the same request, and meet denial.
KING. "Tis the G.o.ds" will; I yield, against my judgment, And she shall stay. But, look you, if she show One sign that those wild ways are not forgot, I drive her forth from out this city straight And yield her up to those who seek her life!
Here in this meadow, where I found thee first, A sacred altar shall be raised, to Zeus, The G.o.d of strangers, consecrate and to Thy murdered uncle Pelias" b.l.o.o.d.y shades.
Here will we kneel together and pray the G.o.ds To send their blessing on thy coming here, And turn to mercy that which bodes us ill.-- Now to my royal city follow swift.
[_He turns to his attendants, who approach._]
See my behests are faithfully obeyed.
[_As they turn to depart, the curtain falls._]
ACT II
_A chamber in_ CREON"S _royal palace at Corinth_. CREUSA _is discovered seated, while_ MEDEA _occupies a low stool before her, and holds a lyre in her arm. She is clad in the Greek fashion._
CREUSA. Now pluck this string--the second--this one here.
MEDEA. So, this way?
CREUSA. Nay, thy fingers more relaxed.
MEDEA. I cannot.
CREUSA. "Tis not hard, if thou"lt but try.
MEDEA. I have tried, patiently; but "tis no use!
[_She lays the lyre aside and rises._]
Were it a spear-haft, or the weapons fierce Of the b.l.o.o.d.y hunt, these hands were quick enough.