Page:Medea (Webster 1868).djvu/36

 With all things else: man's every scheme

Is treachery.

Even with gods faith finds no place.

But fame turns too: our life shall have renown:

Honour shall come to woman's race,

And envious fame no more weigh women down.

No more the staled songs shall be heard

Of muses hymning our deceit;

For Phœbus not on us conferred

The lyre heaven-sweet

Lest we a counter strain should sing

Against the race of men: but ages old

Have in their keeping many a thing

Not of us only but of men to unfold.

And thou, grown mad at heart, didst come,

Sailed hither from thy father's home,