To-day, to-day, I know not why it is, I do bethink me of my Colchian home. To-day, that I am lone and weary and sad, I fain would call back days of pride and hope; Of pride in strength, when strength was all unprov’d, Of hope too high, too sweet, to be confined In limits of conception. I am sad Here in this gracious city, whose white walls Gleam snow-like in the sunlight; whose fair shrines Are filled with wondrous images of gods; Upon whose harbour’s bosom ride tall ships, Black-masted, fraught with fragrant merchandise; Whose straight-limbed people, in fair stuffs arrayed, Do throng from morn till eve the sunny streets. For what avail fair shrines and images? What, cunning workmanship and purple robes? Light of sweet sunlight, play and spray of waves? When all around the air is charged and chill, And all the place is drear and dark with hate? Alas, alas, this people loves me not! This strong, fair people, marble-cold and smooth As modelled marble. I, an alien here, That well can speak the language of their lips, The language of their souls may never learn. And in their hands, I, that did know myself Ere now, a creature in whose veins ran blood Redder, more rapid, than flows round most hearts, Do seem a creature reft of life and soul. If they would only teach the subtle trick By which their hearts are melted into love, I’d strive to learn it. I am very meek. They think me proud, but I am very meek, Ready to do their bidding. Hear me, friends! Friends, I am very hungry, give me love! ’Tis all I ask! is it so hard to give? You stand and front me with your hostile eyes; You only give me hatred? Yet I know Ye are not all unloving. Oft I see The men and women walking in the ways, Hand within hand, and tender-bated breath, On summer evenings when the sky is fair. O men and women, are ye then so hard? Will ye not give a little of your love To me that am so hungry? [_Enter_ ÆGEUS _and_ NIKIAS, _on the opposite side_. MEDEA _steps back on the threshold and pauses_.] Ha, that word! ’Tis Jason’s name they bandy to and fro. I know not why, whene’er his name is spoke, Once name of joy and ever name of love, I wax white and do tremble; sudden seized With shadowy apprehension. May’t forbode No evil unto him I hold so dear; And ever dearer with the waxing years:-- For this indeed is woman’s chiefest curse, That still her constant heart clings to its love Through all time and all chances; while the man Is caught with newness; coldly calculates, And measures pain and pleasure, loss and gain; And ever grows to look with the world’s eye Upon a woman, tho’ his, body and soul. [_She goes within._] [_The two citizens come forward._]