The Portable Roman Reader (Portable Library) (58 page)

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Let friendly darkness quickly veil the light,
And this dread day be buried deep in night.
ACT V
MESSENGER
(comes running in from the direction of the palace):
Lo, all is lost! the kingdom totters from its base!
The daughter and the father lie in common dust!
CHORUS: By what snare taken?
MESSENGER: By gifts, the common snare of kings.
CHORUS: What harm could lurk in them?
MESSENGER: In equal doubt I stand;
And, though my eyes proclaim the dreadful deed is done,
I scarce can trust their witness.
CHORUS: What the mode of death?
MESSENGER : Devouring flames consume the palace at the will
Of her who sent them; there complete destruction reigns,
While men do tremble for the very city’s doom.
CHORUS: Let water quench the fire.
MESSENGER: Nay here is added wonder:
The copious streams of water feed the deadly flames;
And opposition only fans their fiery rage
To whiter heat. The very bulwarks feel their power.
(
Medea enters in time to hear that her magic has been. successful
)
NURSE
(to Medea) :
Oh, haste thee, leave this land of Greece, in headlong flight!
MEDEA: Thou bid‘st me speed my flight? Nay rather, had I fled,
I should return for this. Strange bridal rites I seel
(Absorbed in her own reflections)
Why dost thou falter, O my soul? ‘Tis well begun;
But still how small a portion of thy just revenge
Is that which gives thee present joy? Not yet has love
Been banished from thy maddened heart if ‘tis enough
That Jason widowed be. Pursue thy vengeful quest
To acts as yet unknown, and steel thyself for these.
Away with every thought and fear of God and man;
Too lightly falls the rod that pious hands upbear.
Give passion fullest sway; exhaust thy ancient powers;
And let the worst thou yet hast done be innocent
Besides thy present deeds. Come, let them know how slight
Were those thy crimes already done; mere training they
For greater deeds. For what could hands untrained in crime
Accomplish? Or what mattered maiden rage? But now,
I am Medea; in the bitter school of woe
My powers have ripened.
(In an ecstasy of madness)
Oh, the bliss of memory!
My infant brother slain, his limbs asunder rent,
My royal father spoiled of his ancestral realm,
And Pelias’ guiltless daughters lured to slay their sire!
But here I must not rest; no untrained hand I bring
To execute my deeds. But now, by what approach
Or by what weapon wilt thou threat the treacherous foe?
Deep hidden in my secret heart have I conceived
A purpose which I dare not utter. Oh, I fear
That in my foolish madness I have gone too far—
I would that children had been born to him of this
My hated rival. Still, since she hath gained his heart,
His children too are hers—
That punishment would be most fitting and deserved.
Yes, now I see the final deed of crime, and thou,
My soul, must face it. You, who once were called my sons,
Must pay the penalty of these your father’s crimes—
My heart with horror melts, a numbing chill pervades
My limbs, and all my soul is filled with sinking fear.
Now wrath gives place, and, heedless of my husband’s sins,
The tender mother-instinct quite possesses me.
And could I shed my helpless children’s blood? Not so,
Oh, say not so, my maddened heart! Far from my hand
And thought be that unnameable and hideous deed!
What sin have they that shedding of their wretched blood
Would wash away?
Their sin—that Jason is their sire,
And, deeper guilt, that I have borne them. Let them die;
They are not mine. Nay, nay! they are my own, my sons,
And with no spot of guilt. Full innocent they are,
‘Tis true—my brother, too, was innocent. 0 soul,
Why dost thou hesitate? Why flow these streaming tears,
While with contending thoughts my wavering heart is torn?
As when conflicting winds contend in stubborn strife,
And waves, to stormy waves opposed, the sea invade,
And to their lowest sands the briny waters boil;
With such a storm my heart is tossed. Hate conquers love,
And love puts impious hate to flight. Oh, yield thee, grief,
To love! Then come, my sons, sole comfort of my heart,
Come, cling within your mother’s close embrace. Unharmed
Your sire may keep you, while your mother holds you too.
(Embraces her sons)
But flight and exile drive me forth! And even now
My children must be torn away with tears and cries.
Then let them die to Jason since they’re lost to me.
Once more has hate resumed her sway, and passion’s fire
Is hot within my soul. Now fury, as of yore,
Reseeks her own. Lead on, I follow to the end!
I would that I had borne twice seven sons, the boast Of Niobe! But all too barren have I been.
Still will my two sufficient be to satisfy
My brother and my sire.
(Sees a vision of the furies and her brother’s ghost)
But whither hastes that throng
Of furies? What their quest? What mean their brandished fires?
Whom threats this hellish host with horrid, bloody brands?
I hear the writhing lash resound of serpents huge.
Whom seeks Megæra with her deadly torch? Whose shade
Comes gibbering there with scattered limbs? It is my brother!
Revenge he seeks, and we will grant his quest. Then come,
Within my heart plunge all your torches, rend me, burn;
For lo, my bosom open to your fury’s stroke.
O brother, bid these vengeful goddesses depart
And go in peace down to the lowest shades of hell.
And do thou leave me to myself, and let this hand
That slew thee with the sword now offer sacrifice
Unto thy shade.
(Slays her first son)
What sudden uproar meets my ear?
‘Tis Corinth’s citizens on my destruction bent.
Unto the palace roof I’ll mount and there complete
This bloody sacrifice.
(To her remaining son)
Do thou come hence with me.
But thee, poor senseless corse, within mine arms I’ll bear.
Now gird thyself, my heart, with strength. Nor must this deed
Lose all its just renown because in secret done;
But to the public eye my hand must be approved.
JASON
(in the street below shouting to citizens):
Ho, all ye loyal sons, who mourn the death of kings!
Come, let us seize the worker of this hideous crime.
Now ply your arms and raze her palace to the ground.
MEDEA
(appearing on the housetop with her two sons
): Now, now have I regained my regal state, my sire,
My brother! Once again the Colchians hold the spoil
Of precious gold! And by the magic of this hour
I am a maid once more. 0 heavenly powers, appeased
At length! 0 festal hour! 0 nuptial day! On, on!
Accomplished is the guilt, but not the recompense.
Complete the task while yet thy hands are strong to act!
Why dost thou linger still? why dost thou hesitate
Upon the threshold of the deed? Thou canst perform it.
Now wrath has died within me, and my soul is filled
With shame and deep remorse. Ah me, what have I done,
Wretch that I am? Wretch that thou art, well mayst thou mourn,
For thou hast done it!
At that thought delirious joy
O‘ermasters me and fills my heart which fain would grieve.
And yet, methinks, the act was almost meaningless,
Since Jason saw it not; for naught has been performed
If to his grief be added not the woe of sight.
JASON
(discovering her):
Lo, there she stands upon the lofty battlements!
Bring torches! fire the house, that she may fall ensnared
By those devices she herself hath planned.
MEDEA
(derisively):
Not so,
But rather build a lofty pyre for these thy sons;
Their funeral rites prepare. Already for thy bride
And father have I done the service due the dead;
For in their ruined palace have I buried them.
One son of thine has met his doom; and this shall die
Before his father’s face.
JASON: By all the gods, and by the perils of our flight,
And by our marriage bond which I have ne‘er betrayed,
I pray thee spare the boy, for he is innocent.
If aught of sin there be, ‘tis mine. Myself I give
To be the victim. Take my guilty soul for his.
MEDEA: ‘Tis for thy prayers and tears I draw, not sheathe the sword.
Go now, and take thee maids for wives, thou faithless one;
Abandon and betray the mother of thy sons.
JASON: And yet, I pray thee, let one sacrifice atone.
MEDEA: If in the blood of one my passion could be quenched,
No vengeance had it sought. Though both my sons I slay,
The number still is all too small to satisfy
My boundless grief.
JASON: Then finish what thou hast begun—
I ask no more—and grant at least that no delay
Prolong my helpless agony.
MEDEA: Now hasten not,
Relentless passion, but enjoy a slow revenge.
This day is in thy hands; its fertile hours employ.
JASON: Oh, take my life, thou heartless one.
MEDEA: Thou bid‘st me pity—
Well!
(Slays the second child
)
—
‘Tis done!
No more atonement, passion, can I offer thee.
Now hither lift thy tearful eyes, ungrateful one.
Dost recognize thy wife? ‘Twas thus of old I fled.
The heavens themselves provide me with a safe retreat.
(A chariot drawn by dragons appears in the air
)
Twin serpents bow their necks submissive to the yoke.
Now, father, take thy sons; while I, upon my car,
With wingèd speed am borne aloft through realms of air.
(Mounts her car and is borne away)
JASON
(calling after her):
Speed on through realms of air that mortals never see:
But, witness heaven, where thou art gone no gods can be!
LUCAN
(Marcus Annæus Lucanus, 39 A.D.-65 A.D.)
From the
Pharsalia
Translated by Sir Edward Ridley

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