_Creon:_ Though deep-ingrafted fear would fain resist thy plea, A single day I'll give thee ere my sentence holds. 295 _Medea:_ Too gracious thou. But let my respite further shrink, And I'll depart content. _Creon:_ Thy life shall surely pay The forfeit if tomorrow's sun beholds thee still In Corinth. But the voice of Hymen calls away To solemnize the rites of this his festal day. 300 [_Exeunt._] * * * * * _Chorus:_ Too bold the man who first upon the seas, The treacherous seas, his fragile bark confided; Who, as the well-known shore behind him glided, His life intrusted to the fickle breeze; And, as his unknown seaward course he sped 305 Within his slender craft with foolish daring, Midway 'twixt life and death went onward faring, Along the perilous narrow margin led. Not yet were sparkling constellations known, Or sky, all spangled with the starry glory; 310 Not yet could sailors read the warning story By stormy Hyades upon the heavens thrown. Not yet was Zeus's foster-mother famed, Nor slow Boötes round the north star wheeling; 315 Nor Boreas nor Zephyr gently stealing, Each feared or welcomed, though as yet unnamed. First Tiphys dared to spread his venturous sail, The hidden lesson of the breezes learning, Now all his canvas to the Zephyrs turning, 320 Now shifting all to catch the changing gale. Now midway on the mast the yard remains, Now at the head with all its canvas drawing, While eager sailors lure the breezes blowing, And over all the gleaming topsail strains. 325 The guiltless golden age our fathers saw, When youth and age the same horizon bounded; No greed of gain their simple hearts confounded; Their native wealth enough, 'twas all they knew. 330 But lo, the severed worlds have been brought near And linked in one by Argo's hand uniting; While seas endure the oar's unwonted smiting, 335 And add their fury to the primal fear. This impious bark its guilt in dread atoned 340 When clashing mountains were together driven, And sea, from sea in mighty conflict riven, The stars besprinkled with the leaping foam. 345 Amid these perils sturdy Tiphys paled, And from his nerveless hand the vessel bounded; While stricken Orpheus' lyre no more resounded, And tuneful Argo's warning message failed. What sinking terror filled each quaking breast, When near the borders of sea-girt Pelorus, 350 There smote upon their ears the horrid chorus Of Scylla's baying wolves around them pressed.