Page:Medea (Webster 1868).djvu/61



There too, the ancient lay runs thus,

Once Cypris, quaffing from the wave

Of crystal flowing Cephissus,

O'er all the land her soft breath drave

In tender wafts of scented wind:

And, donning ever her sweet crown

Of rose-bloom in her loose locks twined,

Her vassal loves, assigned

Kind ministers to wisdom, she sends down,

And helpmates in all deeds of good renown.

The land of sacred waters, then,

The city of good will to men,

How shall it have a welcoming

For thee, a too unholy thing

To dwell with others, murderess thou

Of thine own children? Oh, take heed;

Think, think on thy sons' death-blow now;

Think, think upon thy deadly deed.