Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/143

Rh Ere she beheld thy chariot-yoke of sons,

Aye upon Jason turned her yearning gaze.

But then her veil before her eyes she cast,

And swept aback the scorn of her white neck,

Loathing thy sons' approach: but now thy lord,

To turn the maiden's wrath and spite aside,

Thus spake: "Nay, be not hostile to thy friends:

Cease from thine anger, turn thine head again,

Accounting friends whomso thy spouse accounts.

Their gifts receive, and plead thou with thy sire

To pardon these their exile:—for my sake."

She, when she saw the attire, could not refrain,

But yielded her lord all. And ere their father

Far from her bower with those thy sons had gone,

She took the rich-wrought robes and clad herself,

Circling her ringlets with the golden crown,

And by a shining mirror ranged her tresses,

Smiling at her own phantom image there.

Then, rising from her seat, she paced adown

The halls with mincing tread of ivory feet,

Exulting in the gifts, and oftentimes

Sweeping her glance from neck to ankle-hem.

But then was there a fearful sight to see.

Suddenly changed her colour: reeling back

With trembling limbs she goes; and scarce in time

Drops on the couch to fall not on the ground.

Then a grey handmaid, deeming peradventure

That frenzy was of Pan or some God sent,

Raised the prayer-cry, before she saw the foam

White-frothing from her lips, or marked how rolled

Her eyeballs, and her face's bloodless hue.

Then a scream, unaccordant, long and loud,

She shrilled forth. Straight to her father's chambers one