My spirit trembles, for I feel the near approach Of some unseen disaster. Swiftly grows her grief, Its own fires kindling; and again her passion's force Hath leaped to life. I oft have seen her, with the fit Of inspiration in her soul, confront the gods, And force the very heavens to her will. But now, A monstrous deed of greater moment far than these Medea is preparing. For, but now, did she With step of frenzy hurry off until she reached Her stricken home. There, in her chamber, all her stores Of magic wonders are revealed; once more she views The things herself hath held in fear these many years, Unloosing one by one her ministers of ill, Occult, unspeakable, and wrapt in mystery. We omit the remainder of the nurse's speech out of regard for Seneca's reputation as an artist, for in a long passage of sixty lines he proceeds to scour heaven, earth, and the waters under the earth, for every form of venomous serpent, noxious herb, and dread, uncanny thing that the mind of man can conceive; and by the time he has his full array of horrors marshaled before us, we have grown so familiar with the gruesome things that we cease to shiver at them. But at last the ingredients for the hell-broth are ready. These deadly, potent herbs she takes and sprinkles o'er With serpent venom, mixing all; and in the broth She mingles unclean birds, a wailing screech-owl's heart, A ghastly vampire's vitals torn from living flesh. Her magic poisons all she ranges for her use: The ravening power of hidden fire is held in these, While deep in others lurks the numbing chill of frost. Now magic runes she adds, more potent far. But lo! Her voice resounds, and as with maddened step she comes She chants her charms, while heaven and earth convulsive rock. Medea now enters, chanting her incantations. Madness has done fearful work with her in the last few hours. We see at a glance that she has indeed, as the nurse has told us, gone back to The things herself hath held in fear these many years, and has been changed from a true wife and loving mother to a wild and murderous witch once more. She calls upon the gods of the underworld, the silent throng from the dark world of spirits, the tormented shades, all to come to her present aid. She recounts her miraculous powers over nature which she has used aforetime, and which are still in her grasp.