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nsmitted. Boldly AEson's son March'd onward; fiercely as the youth approach'd, His foes dark lower'd, and bent their steel-tipt horns, Paw'd with their clefted hoofs the dusty ground, And fill'd with smoky bellowings all the air. Pale grew each Grecian face; advancing on The fiery blasts he feels not, such the power The mighty charms possess, but boldly strokes Their dewlaps pendulous, and to the yoke Subjected, makes them drag the ponderous plough; And with the iron cut th' uncustom'd soil. The Colchians wondering gaze; the Grecians loud Applaud, and with fresh courage fill his soul. Then from his brazen helmet pluck'd, he sows The serpent's teeth, deep in the furrow'd ground: The ground, the teeth with powerful venom ting'd, Soften'd and swell'd them, and a novel shape Imparted. Thus within the parent's womb, An human shape the infant mass receives, Completed perfect in the dark recess; Nor till mature, to air external given. So when the manly forms were perfect made Within earth's pregnant bowels, up they sprung Thick in the fruitful field; more wonderous still Their arms they clash'd when born. Then when the Greeks Their keenly-pointed spears preparing saw To hurl at Jason's head, low sunk their souls, And pallid grew their cheeks; Medea ev'n, Whose art insur'd his safety, trembling fear'd, When single she the youth beheld assail'd By foes in hosts; bloodless her face became, And tremor seiz'd her limbs: then lest the herbs Presented first, should fail in power, she sings An helping magic song, and all her arts Latent, calls forth. Amidst the hostile crowd A mighty rock he flings; their martial rage From him diverted, on each other turns. By mutual wounds the earth-born brothers fall; In civil discord perish. Joy'd again The Grecians clasp the conqueror in their arms. Thou too, Medea, wish'd thine arms to fill With him victorious. (Shame at first repress'd Thy open fondness, though thou wast embrac'd) Now reputation awes thee, now prevents That bliss. What honor gives,--silent to joy, And pour glad thanks to all thy magic arts, And gods their authors, those thou dar'st indulge. Now sole remains by powerful herbs to lull The wakeful dragon, whose high-crested head A triple tongue contains, whose crooked fangs Dreadful the golden fleece protecting guards. Him when be sprinkled with the juices prest Fr
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