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
Chorus
Vainly wasted were the throes thy children cost thee; vainly hast thou born, it seems, sweet babes, O thou who hast left behind thee that passage through the blue Symplegades, that strangers justly hate.
Ah! hapless one, why doth fierce anger thy soul assail? Why
1
in its place is fell murder growing up? For grievous unto mortal men are pollutions that come of kindred blood poured on the earth,
1265
woes to suit each crime hurled from heaven on the murderer’s house.
1270
Sons
within
Ah!
2
Chorus
Didst hear, didst hear the children’s cry? O lady, born to sorrow, victim of an evil fate!
3
1st Son
(within). Ah, me; what can I do? Whither fly to escape my mother’s blows?
4
2nd Son
(within). I know not, sweet brother mine; we are undone.
5
Chorus
Shall I enter the house? For the children’s sake I am resolved to ward off the murder.
1275
1st Son
(within). Yea, by heaven I adjure you; help, your aid is needed.
6
2nd Son
(within). Even now the toils of the sword are closing round us.
7
Chorus
O hapless mother, surely thou hast a heart of stone or steel
to slay the offspring of thy womb by such a murderous doom.
1280
Chorus
Of all the wives of yore I know but one who laid her hand upon her children dear, even Ino,
8
whom the gods did madden in the day
that the wife of Zeus drove her wandering from her home. But she, poor sufferer, flung herself into the sea because of the foul murder of her children, leaping o’er the wave-beat cliff, and in her death was she united to her children twain.
1285
Can there be any deed of horror left to follow this? Woe for the wooing of women fraught with disaster! What sorrows hast thou caused for men ere now!
1290
Medea. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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