He is gone,
And leaves me here to lie upon the earth,
Bowed in the dust, for any that may pass
To trample on!--O Death, on thee I call!
Have pity on me! Take me to my babes!

[_He sinks down upon the ground._]

MEDEA _makes her way among some tumbled rocks, and stands suddenly
before him, the Golden Fleece flung over her shoulders like a mantle._

MEDEA. Jason!

JASON (_half raising himself_).

Who calls me?--Ha! What spectral form
Is this before me? Is it thou, Medea?
Ha! Dost thou dare to show thyself again
Before mine eyes? My sword! My sword!

[_He tries to rise, but falls weakly back._]

Woe's me!
My limbs refuse their service! Here I lie,
A broken wreck!

MEDEA. Nay, cease thy mad attempts
Thou canst not harm me, for I am reserved
To be the victim of another's hand,
And not of thine!

JASON. My babes!--Where has thou them?

MEDEA. Nay, they are mine!

JASON. Where hast thou them, I say?

MEDEA. They're gone where they are happier far than thou
Or I shall ever be!

JASON. Dead! Dead! My babes!

MEDEA. Thou deemest death the worst of mortal woes?
I know a far more wretched one--to be
Alone, unloved! Hadst thou not prized mere life
Far, far above its worth, we were not now
In such a pass. But we must bear our weight
Of sorrow, for thy deeds! Yet these our babes
Are spared that grief, at least!

JASON. And thou canst stand
So patient, quiet, there, and speak such words?

MEDEA. Quiet, thou sayst, and patient? Were my heart
Not closed to thee e'en now, as e'er it was,
Then couldst thou see the bitter, smarting pain
Which, ever swelling like an angry sea,
Tosses, now here, now there, the laboring wreck
That is my grief, and, veiling it from sight
In awful desolation, sweeps it forth
O'er boundless ocean-wastes! I sorrow not
Because the babes are dead; my only grief
Is that they ever lived, that thou and I
Must still live on!

JASON. Alas!

MEDEA. Bear thou the lot
That fortune sends thee; for,