Page:Medea (Webster 1868).djvu/24

 For the feast with its present fullness alone

Is itself a delight for men.

I heard a voice of sighs

And groaning long laments,

Where she, with shrilly cries,

Her bitter anguish vents

Against the traitor her false lord,

And, bowed with wrong, she makes her prayer

To Themis, child of Zeus, whose care

Is the plighted word—

Themis, she

Who hither to our Hellas brought her,

Crossing o'er the night-dusk water,

The salt straits of the unending sea.

Women of Corinth, I come from the house

Lest ye should blame me. I know many men

Are counted arrogant, some that they keep from sight,

Some that they are in public, and to those

Who walk in calm comes ill repute of sloth.