The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vi Part 29

[_She raises her right hand and gazes at it reproachfully._]

Rebellious fingers! I would punish them!

CREUSA. Perverse one! When my heart was filled with joy At thinking how 'twould gladden Jason's heart To hear this song from thee!

MEDEA. Ay, thou art right.

I had forgot that. Let me try once more.

The song will please him, think'st thou, truly please him?

CREUSA. Nay, never doubt it. 'Tis the song he sang When he dwelt here with us in boyhood days.

Each time I heard it, joyfully I sprang To greet him, for it meant he was come home.

MEDEA (_eagerly_).

Teach me the song again!

CREUSA. Come, listen, then.

'Tis but a short one, nor so pa.s.sing sweet; But then--he knew to sing it with such grace, Such joy, such lordly pride--ay, almost scorn!

[_She sings._]

"Ye G.o.ds above, ye mighty G.o.ds, Anoint my head, I pray; Make strong my heart to bear my part Right kingly in the fray, To smite all foes, and steal the heart Of all fair maids away!"

MEDEA. Yea, yea, all these the G.o.ds bestowed on him!

CREUSA. All what?

MEDEA. These gifts, of which the song doth tell.

CREUSA. What gifts?

MEDEA. "To smite all foes, and steal the heart Of all fair maids away!"

CREUSA. Is't so? I never thought on that before; I did but sing the words I heard him sing.

MEDEA. 'Twas so he stood on Colchis' hostile strand; Before his burning glance our warriors cringed, And that same glance kindled a fatal fire In the soft breast of one unhappy maid; She struggled, fled--until at last those flames, So long hid deep within her heart, burst forth, And rest and joy and peace to ashes burned In one fierce holocaust of smoky flame.

'Twas so he stood, all shining strength and grace, A hero, nay, a G.o.d--and drew his victim And drew and drew, until the victim came To its own doom; and then he flung it down Careless, and there was none would take it up.

CREUSA. Art thou his wife, and speak'st such things of him?

MEDEA. Thou know'st him not; I know his inmost soul.-- In all the wide world there is none but he, And all things else are naught to him but tools To shape his deeds. He harbors no mean thoughts Of paltry gain, not he; yet all his thoughts Are of himself alone. He plays a game with Fortune--now his own, and now another's.

If bright Fame beckon, he will slay a man And do it gaily. Will he have a wife?

He goes and takes one. And though hearts should break And lives be wasted--so he have his will, What matters it to him? Oh, he does naught That is not right--but right is what he wants!

Thou knowest him not; I've probed his inmost soul.

And when I think on all that he has wrought, Oh, I could see him die, and laugh the while!

CREUSA. Farewell!

MEDEA. Thou goest?

CREUSA. Can I longer stay To list such words?--Ye G.o.ds! to hear a wife Revile her husband thus!

MEDEA. She should speak truth, And mine is such an one as I have said.

CREUSA. By Heaven, if I were wedded to a man, E'en one so base and vile as thou hast named-- 'Though Jason is _not_ so--and had I babes, His gift, each bearing in his little face His father's likeness, oh, I would love them dear, Though they should slay me!

MEDEA. Ay, an easy task To set, but hard to do.

CREUSA. And yet, methinks, If easier, 'twere less sweet.--Have thou thy way And say whate'er thou wilt; but I must go.

First thou dost charm my heart with n.o.ble words And seek'st my aid to win his love again; But now thou breakest forth in hate and scorn.

I have seen many evils among men, But worst of all these do I count a heart That knows not to forgive. So, fare thee well!

Learn to be better, truer!

MEDEA. Art thou angry

CREUSA. Almost.

MEDEA. Alas, thou wilt not give me up, Thou, too? Thou wilt not leave me? Be my help, My friend, my kind protector!

CREUSA. Now thou'rt gentle, Yet, but a moment since, so full of hate!

MEDEA. Hate for myself, but only love for him!

CREUSA. Dost thou love Jason?

MEDEA. Should I else be here?

CREUSA. I've pondered that, but cannot understand.-- Yet, if thou truly lov'st him, I will take thee Back to my heart again, and show thee means Whereby thou mayst regain his love.--I know Those bitter moods of his, and have a charm To scatter the dark clouds. Come, to our task!

I marked this morning how his face was sad And gloomy. Sing that song to him; thou'lt see How swift his brow will clear. Here is the lyre; I will not lay it down till thou canst sing The song all through. [_She seats herself._]

Nay, come! Why tarriest there

MEDEA. I gaze on thee, and gaze on thee again, And cannot have my fill of thy sweet face.

Thou gentle, virtuous maid, as fair in soul As body, with a heart as white and pure As are thy snowy draperies! Like a dove, A pure, white dove with shining, outspread wings, Thou hoverest o'er this life, nor yet so much As dipp'st thy wing in this vile, noisome slough Wherein we wallow, struggling to get free, Each from himself. Send down one kindly beam From out thy shining heaven, to fall in pity Upon my bleeding breast, distraught with pain; And all those ugly scars that grief and hate And evil fortune e'er have written there, Oh, cleanse thou these away with thy soft hands, And leave thine own dear picture in their place!

That strength, that ever was my proudest boast From youth, once tested, proved but craven weakness.

Oh, teach me how to make my weakness strong!

[_She seats herself on the low stool at CREUSA's feet._]

Here to thy feet for refuge will I fly, And pour my tale of suffering in thine ear; And thou shalt teach me all that I must do.

Like some meek handmaid will I follow thee, Will pace before the loom from early morn, Nay, set my hand to all those lowly tasks Which maids of n.o.ble blood would scorn to touch In Colchis, as but fit for toiling serfs, Yet here they grace a queen. Oh, I'll forget My sire was Colchis' king, and I'll forget My ancestors were G.o.ds, and I'll forget The past, and all that threatens still!

[_She springs up and leaves _CREUSA's _side._]

But no!

That can I not forget!

CREUSA (_following her_).