Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/130

98

By Wisdom, fashion all virtue's story,

Over her tresses throwing, throwing,

Roses in odorous wreaths aye new.

Re-enter Medea.

How then should the hallowed city,

The city of sacred waters,

Which shields with her guardian hand

All friends that would fare through her land,

Receive a murderess banned,

Who had slaughtered her babes without pity,

A pollution amidst of her daughters?

In thine heart's thoughts set it before thee—

To murder the fruit of thy womb!

O think what it meaneth to slay

Thy sons—what a deed this day

Thou wouldst do!—By thy knees we pray,

By heaven and earth we implore thee,

Deal not to thy babes such a doom!

O whence, and O whence wilt thou gain thee

Such desperate hardihood

That for spirit so fiendish shall serve,

That shall strengthen thine heart, that shall nerve

Thine hand, that it shall not swerve

From the ruthless deed that shall stain thee

With horror of children's blood?

O how, when thine eyes thou art turning

On thy little ones, wilt thou refrain

The motherhood in thee, to feel

No upwelling of tears?—Canst thou steel

Thy breast when thy children kneel,

To crimson thine hand, with unyearning

Heart for thy darlings slain?