Chorus
O earth, O sun whose beam illumines all, look, look upon this lost woman, ere she stretch forth, her murderous hand upon her sons for blood;
for lo! these are scions of thy own golden seed, and the blood of gods is in danger of being shed by man. O light, from Zeus proceeding, stay her, hold her hand, forth from the house
1255
chase this fell bloody fiend by demons led.
1260
Medea. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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