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Chorus
Back to their source the holy rivers turn their tide. Order and the universe are being reversed. ’Tis men whose counsels are treacherous, whose oath by heaven is no longer sure.
410
Rumour shall bring a change o’er my life, bringing it into good repute. Honour’s dawn is breaking for woman’s sex;
415
no more shall the foul tongue of slander fix upon us.
420
Back to their source the holy rivers turn their tide. Order and the universe are being reversed. ’Tis men whose counsels are treacherous, whose oath by heaven is no longer sure.
410
Rumour shall bring a change o’er my life, bringing it into good repute. Honour’s dawn is breaking for woman’s sex;
415
no more shall the foul tongue of slander fix upon us.
420
Chorus
The songs of the poets of old shall cease to make our faithlessness their theme. Phoebus, lord of minstrelsy, hath not implanted in our mind
the gift of heavenly song, else had I sung an answering strain to the race of males, for time’s long chapter affords
425
many a theme on their sex as well as ours.
430
The songs of the poets of old shall cease to make our faithlessness their theme. Phoebus, lord of minstrelsy, hath not implanted in our mind
the gift of heavenly song, else had I sung an answering strain to the race of males, for time’s long chapter affords
425
many a theme on their sex as well as ours.
430
Chorus
With mind distraught didst thou thy father’s house desert on thy voyage betwixt ocean’s twin rocks, and on a foreign
strand thou dwellest, thy bed left husbandless, poor lady and thou an exile from the land, dishonoured, persecuted.
435
With mind distraught didst thou thy father’s house desert on thy voyage betwixt ocean’s twin rocks, and on a foreign
strand thou dwellest, thy bed left husbandless, poor lady and thou an exile from the land, dishonoured, persecuted.
435
Chorus
Gone is the grace that oaths once had. Through all the breadth
of Hellas honour is found no more; to heaven hath it sped away. For thee no father’s house is open, woe is thee! to be a haven from the troublous storm, while o’er thy home is set another queen, the bride that is
440
preferred to thee.
445
Gone is the grace that oaths once had. Through all the breadth
of Hellas honour is found no more; to heaven hath it sped away. For thee no father’s house is open, woe is thee! to be a haven from the troublous storm, while o’er thy home is set another queen, the bride that is
440
preferred to thee.
445
Medea. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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