to say the truth,
Thou richly hast deserved it!--Even as thou
Before me liest on the naked earth,
So lay I once in Colchis at thy feet
And craved protection--but thou wouldst not hear!
Nay, rather didst thou stretch thine eager hands
In blind unreason forth, to lay them swift
Upon the golden prize, although I cried,
"'Tis Death that thou dost grasp at!"--Take it, then,
That prize that thou so stubbornly didst seek,
Even Death!
I leave thee now, forevermore.
'Tis the last time-for all eternity
The very last--that I shall speak with thee,
My husband! Fare thee well! Ay, after all
The joys that blessed our happy, happy youth,
'Mid all the bitter woes that hem us in
On every side, in face of all the grief
That threatens for the future, still I say,
"Farewell, my husband!" Now there dawns for thee
A life of heavy sorrows; but, let come
What may, abide it firmly, show thyself
Stronger in suffering than in doing deeds
Men named heroic! If thy bitter woe
Shall make thee yearn for death, then think on me,
And it shall comfort thee to know how mine
Is bitterer far, because I set my hand
To deeds, to which thou only gav'st assent.
I go my way, and take my heavy weight
Of sorrow with me through the wide, wide world.
A dagger-stroke were blest release indeed;
But no! it may not be! It were not meet
Medea perish at Medea's hands.
My earlier life, before I stooped to sin,
Doth make me worthy of a better judge
Than I could be--I go to Delphi's shrine,
And there, before the altar of the god,
The very spot whence Phrixus long ago
Did steal the prize, I'll hang it up again,
Restore to that dark god what is his own--
The Golden Fleece--the only thing the flames
Have left unharmed, the only thing that 'scaped
Safe from the bloody, fiery death that slew
That fair Corinthian princess.--To the priests
I'll go, and I'll submit me to their will,
Ay, though they t