Page:Medea (Webster 1868).djvu/47

 How I desire to serve thee and thy sons,

Yet thou'lt not like good gifts but wantonly

Dost spurn thy friends, therefore shalt mourn the more.

Begone, for longing after thy new bride

Seizes thee so much tarrying from her home:

Take her, for it is like—yea, and possessed

By a god I will declare it—thou dost wed

With such a wedding as thou'lt wish undone.

The wild loves that force eager way

Nor worth nor fame on man confer,

But if come Cypris with meet sway

There is no gracious god like her.

Oh never, queen, I pray,

Drive from thy golden bow into my heart

The escapeless passion-poisoned dart.