With fire, and the ears of her rang with a sound as of awful cries.
And ofttimes she clutched at her throat, and moaned in her wretched despair,
As once and again she rent the tresses of her hair.
And there had the maiden beyond her weird her own death wrought
By tasting of poison; and Hêrê’s purpose had come to nought,
But for this, that the Goddess stirred her to flee in her panic dread
With Phrixus’ sons. So her fluttering spirit was comforted
In her breast; and into her bosom in eager haste did she pour
All mingled her spell-drugs and poisons, her casket’s deadly store.
And she kissed her bed, and her hands on the walls with loving caress
Lingered: she kissed the posts of the doors; and one long tress
She severed, and left it her bower within, for her mother to be
A memorial of maidenhood’s days, and with passionate voice moaned she:
“This tress in mine own stead leave I, or ever I go, unto thee,
My mother; and, far though I wend, yet take farewell from me!
Farewell thou, Chalkiopê, and mine home!—Would God that the wave,
Ere thou cam’st to the Kolchian land, O stranger, had yawned for thy grave!”
So spake she, and down from her eyelids in floods the teardrops ran.
Then, even as stealeth forth from the house of a wealthy man
A bondmaid, whom fate but newly hath torn from her fatherland-soil,
Who never till now hath tasted the lot of bitter toil,
But unschooled to misery, shrinking in horror from slavery
Under the cruel hands of a mistress, forth doth she flee;
Even so from her home forth hasted the lovely maid that day.
Yea, and the bolts of the doors self-moving to her gave way
Leaping aback at the swift-breathed spell of her magic song.
And with feet unsandalled she ran the narrow lanes along,
While her left hand gathered a fold of her mantle, to screen from sight
Her brows and her face and her lovely cheeks, the while with her right
The hem of the skirt of her tunic she held upraised from the ground.
And swiftly without the towers that girded the wide burg round
By the darkling path in her terror she came; and no man knew
Of the warders thereof, but past them all unseen she flew.
Thence marked she well to the temple the way, nor unweeting she was
Of the path, for that oft thereby in her questing she wont to pass
Seeking for corpses and deadly roots, as the wont is still
Of the sorceress. Ever with quivering dread did the heart of her thrill.
And Titania beheld her, as upward she floated from heaven’s far bourne,
As she wandered distraught; and the white Moon-goddess in triumph-scorn
Over Medea exulted, and thus to her heart ’gan say:
“Ha, not I only adown to the Latmian cavern stray,
Nor I alone for Endymion the comely with love am afire!
Ha, many a time when mine heart was yearning with hot desire,
Did thy strong spells drive me from heaven, that thou in the rayless night
Unhindered might’st work thy sorceries, deeds that are aye thy delight.
Now thou too hast part in the same infatuate passion, I trow,
And a god of affliction hath made this Jason a torment and woe
Unto thee! Pass on, and harden thine heart, be thou never so wise,
To take up thy burden of anguish, thy doom full-fraught with sighs.”
So spake she; but swiftly the maid’s feet bare her, as onward she strained;
And glad was she when the height of the bank of the river she gained.
And overagainst her beheld the splendour of fire: nightlong
For joy of the trial triumphant they fed it, the hero-throng.
And she lifted her voice clear-pealing: across the darkness she cried:
To the youngest of Phrixus’ children she called from the farther side,
Unto Phrontis: and he with his brother discerned Medea’s call;
And the son of Aison knew it; and hushed were the heroes all
In amazement, so soon as they knew of a certainty whose was the cry.
Thrice called she aloud, and thrice, as his company bade reply,
Phrontis in answer shouted, the while with swift-plied oar
The heroes were rowing their ship unto where she stood on the shore.
Not yet to the land were they casting the hawsers forth of the ship,
When lo! to the shore with feet light-bounding did Jason leap
From the height of the deck-planks; and after him Phrontis to land hath sprung,
And Argus, the children of Phrixus. About their knees she clung,
Clasping them round with clinging hands, and Medea cried:
“Deliver me, O my friends, the hapless!—yea, and beside
Save from Aiêtes yourselves: for all hath been brought to light,
Yea, all: and there cometh no help therefor. But speed we our flight
In your ship, ere the king shall have mounted his swift-horsed car for the chase.
And the Fleece of Gold will I give you: with slumber-spells will I daze
Its serpent warder. But thou in thy comrades’ presence take
The Gods to witness the vows which thy lips, O stranger, spake
Unto me: neither make me, when hence I have fled and afar from my land,
An outcast dishonoured, as one by whose side no kinsman doth stand.”
In anguish she spake: but with gladness exceeding the heart ’gan stir
Of Aison’s son. At his knees as she bowed, he uplifted her
Gently, and straightway embraced her, and spake to her words of cheer:
“Lady, let Zeus himself the Olympian my troth-plight hear;
Let Hêrê of Wedlock, the Bride of Zeus, in witness be near,
That I surely will make thee mine own true wife mine halls within
Whensoever returning again unto Hellas-land I shall win.”
He spake, and her hand with his right hand caught in the clasp of love.
Then did the maiden bid them to speed to the sacred grove
The swift ship straightway, that so, ere Aiêtes was ware, they might seize
And bear away in the darkness of night the Golden Fleece.
Even with the word was the deed performed by the eager men;
For they took her aboard, and forth from the land their galley then
Thrust they: with plashing loud the pinewood oars ’gan strain
In the hands of the chieftains. But backward darting the maiden again
Outstretched her despairing hands to the shore: but Jason spake
Comforting words, and restrained
