Studies in the Poetry of Italy, Part I. Roman

Name: Studies in the Poetry of Italy, Part I. Roman
Author: Miller, Frank Justus

Miller, Frank Justus

Latin poetry -- History and criticism

Now, O Hecate,
              Give added force to these my deadly gifts,
              And strictly guard the hidden seeds of flame;
              Let them escape detection of the eye,
              But spring to instant life at human touch.
              Let burning streams run through her veins;
              In fervent heat consume her bones,
              And let her blazing locks outshine
              Her marriage torches!--Lo, my prayer
              Is heard: thrice have replied the hounds,
              The baying hounds of Hecate.
              Now all is ready: hither call
              My sons, and let them bear the gifts
              As costly presents to the bride. [_Enter sons._]
              Go, go, my sons, of hapless mother born,
              And win with gifts and many prayers
              The favor of the queen!
              Begone, but quick your way retrace,
              That I may fold you in a last embrace.

                        [_Exit sons toward the palace, Medea in the
                                      opposite direction._]

The chorus, which but dimly comprehends Medea's plans, briefly voices
its dread of her unbridled passion. It knows that she has one day only
before her banishment from Corinth, and prays that this day may soon be
over.

And now, as the chorus and the old nurse wait in trembling suspense for
what is to follow, a messenger comes running breathless from the
direction of the royal palace. All ears are strained to hear his words,
for his face and manner betoken evil tidings. He gasps out his message:

               Lo, all is lost! The kingdom totters from its base!
               The daughter and the father lie in common dust!

  _Chorus._    By what snare taken?

  _Messenger._             By gifts, the common snare of kings.

  _Chorus._    What harm could lurk in them?

  _Messenger._                          In equal doubt I stand;
               And, though my eyes proclaim the dreadful deed is done,
               I scarce can trust their witness.

  _Chorus._    What the mode of death?

  _Messenger._ Devouring flames consume the palace at the will
               Of her who sent them; there complete destruction reigns,
               While men do tremble for the very city's doom.

  _Chorus._    Let water quench the fire.

  _Messenger._                  Nay, here is added wonder:
               The copious streams of water _feed_ the deadly flames;
               And opposition only fans their fiery rage
               To whiter heat. The very bulwarks feel their power.

Medea has entered meanwhile, and has heard enough to be assured that her
magic has been successful. The nurse, seeing her, and fearing for her
mistress, exclaims:

              O haste thee, leave this land of Greece in headlong
                 flight!

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Studies in the Poetry of Italy, Part I. Roman

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