To her left hand gave they the reins, and the fair-fashioned whip hath she ta’en
In her right; and adown through the city she drave; and the rest of the train
Of her handmaids laid their hands on the wain, behind it to run
Adown the highway broad, for their tunics delicate-spun
Each maiden had kilted up above her ivory knee.
’Twas as when, where Parthenius’ soft-flowing ripples slide through the lea,
Or as when, coming up from her bath in Amnisus’ crystalline water,
High-borne on her golden chariot rideth Latona’s Daughter,
Driving betwixt the hills the fleet-foot roes of her car,
To greet the sacrifice-steam of a hecatomb afar;
And the Nymphs in throngs upon throngs attend her, gathering some
By the green well-head of Amnisus’ self, and others that come
By the glens and the fountain-flashing heights; and fawn and whine
The cowering beasts, as onward cometh the presence divine:
So through the city they sped, and to this side and that of the street
The people made way, neither dared they the eyes of the princess to meet.
But when she had left behind her the city’s fair-paved ways,
And was now drawn nigh, as she drave through the plain, to the holy place,
Then from the smooth-running wain she stepped to the earth straightway
In haste; and unto her maidens thus did Medea say:
“O friends, I have verily grievously sinned, for I took no thought
To have nought to do with the strangers whose wandering feet have sought
Our land:—lo now, with amazement’s perplexity smitten sore
Is all the city, that none of the women, which heretofore
Hitherward have assembled day by day, be now gathered here.
But seeing that we be come, and that none beside draweth near,
Come then, with delightsome song without stint or stay let us sing
To our soul’s satisfying, and pluck we the lovely flowers that spring
Mid the tender grass; and in this same hour on the homeward way
Will we wend. Ye also with many a gift shall return this day
Homeward, if now with mine heart’s desire ye will gladden me.
For the pleading of Argus prevaileth with me, and of Chalkiopê:—
But hide in your hearts that ye hear from me; let your lips be dumb,
Lest to my father’s ears peradventure the story should come:—
They beseech me to take rich gifts, and to save in his emprise fell
Yon stranger who took it upon him the might of the bulls to quell.
Yea, and their counsel was good in mine eyes, that I bade him appear
In my presence this day, alone, with none of his comrades near,
That we may divide those presents amongst us, if haply he bring
The gifts in his hand, and may give him a spell-drug, a balefuller thing
Than the strength of the bulls. But stand ye aloof when he draweth anigh.”
So spake she, and pleased them all her counsel of subtlety.
Now Argus apart from his comrades had sundered Aison’s son,
So soon as he heard from his brethren how that Medea had gone
Forth in the misty dawning to fare unto Hekatê’s fane;
And over the plain did he lead him, and Mopsus companioned the twain,
Ampykus’ son, most wise to interpret the tokens aright
Of the coming of birds, and the signs to discern of their parting flight.
Never yet had there been such a man in the days of the men of old—
Nor of them of the lineage of Zeus, nor the champions hero-souled
Which sprang from the blood of the rest of the Gods that endure for aye—
Such a man as the bride of Zeus made Jason to be that day
In glory of bodily presence, in witchery of his tongue.
And ever his comrades gazing upon him in wonderment hung
On his radiance of manifold grace: and glad for the way they should wend
Waxed Ampykus’ son, as foreboding, I trow, how all should end.
Now there is by the path through the plain, as ye draw to the temple anigh,
A poplar that waveth his tresses of countless leaves on high;
And thereon had the crows ever-babbling pitched as it were their tent,
Whereof one, clapping her pinions, beneath her as these twain went,
The counsel of Hêrê chanted, mid high boughs swayed to and fro:
“Lo there, what a pitiful seer!—even that which the children know
His wit can in no wise conceive, how that no word sweet and dear
Maiden will murmur to man, while strangers be loitering near!
Avaunt, vile prophet and witless!—on thee not the Cyprian Queen,
On thee not the gentle Loves of their kindness are breathing, I ween!”
So ceased the voice of her chiding, and Mopsus smiled to hear
The heaven-sent cry of the bird, and spake to the heroes the seer:
“Now pass thou on to the Goddess’s temple: therein shalt thou find
The maiden, O Aison’s son: thou shalt prove her passing kind
By the promptings of Kypris, who also thine helper shall be in thy toil,
Even as prophesied Phineus, Agênor’s son, erewhile.
But we twain, Argus and I, thy coming again will abide
Aloof, yea, in this same place: but thou, with none beside,
With wise words plead with the maiden, and win her thy will to do.”
So in his wisdom he spake, and the others consented thereto.
But Medea—her thoughts unto nought else turned, upon nought could be stayed,
Howsoever she sang—but never a song, howsoe’er she essayed,
Pleased her, that long its melody winged her feet for the dance;
But ever she faltered amidst them, her eyes ever wandered askance
Away from the throng of her maidens unresting; and over the ways,
Turning aside her cheeks, far off ever strained she her gaze.
O the heart in her breast oft fainted, whenever in fancy she heard
Fleet past her the sound of a footfall, the breath of a breeze as it stirred.
But it was not long ere the hero appeared to her yearning eyes
Stately striding, as out of the ocean doth Sirius uprise,
Who climbeth the sky most glorious and clear to discern from afar,
But unto the flocks for measureless mischief a baleful star:
Even so came Aison’s son to the maiden glorious to see—
But with Jason’s appearing dawned on her troublous misery.
Then it seemed as her heart dropped out of her bosom; a dark mist came
Over her eyes, and hot in her cheeks did the blushes flame.
Nor
