Part 15

CHORUS.

Now I have no hope more of the children's living; No hope more. They are gone forth unto death. The bride, she taketh the poison of their giving: She taketh the bounden gold and openeth; And the crown, the crown, she lifteth about her brow, Where the light brown curls are clustering. No hope now!

O sweet and cloudy gleam of the garments golden! The robe, it hath clasped her breast and the crown her head. Then, then, she decketh the bride, as a bride of olden Story, that goeth pale to the kiss of the dead. For the ring hath closed, and the portion of death is there; And she flieth not, but perisheth unaware.

Some Women.

O bridegroom, bridegroom of the kiss so cold, Art thou wed with princes, art thou girt with gold, Who know'st not, suing For thy child's undoing, And, on her thou lovest, for a doom untold? How art thou fallen from thy place of old!

Others.

O Mother, Mother, what hast thou to reap, When the harvest cometh, between wake and sleep? For a heart unslaken, For a troth forsaken, Lo, babes that call thee from a bloody deep: And thy love returns not. Get thee forth and weep!

ATTENDANT.

Mistress, these children from their banishment Are spared. The royal bride hath mildly bent Her hand to accept thy gifts, and all is now Peace for the children.--Ha, why standest thou Confounded, when good fortune draweth near?

MEDEA.

Ah God!

ATTENDANT.

This chimes not with the news I bear.

MEDEA.

O God, have mercy!

ATTENDANT.

Is some word of wrath Here hidden that I knew not of? And hath My hope to give thee joy so cheated me?

MEDEA.

Thou givest what thou givest: I blame not thee.

ATTENDANT.

Thy brows are all o'ercast: thine eyes are filled. . . .

MEDEA.

For bitter need, Old Man! The gods have willed, And my own evil mind, that this should come.

ATTENDANT.

Take heart! Thy sons one day will bring thee home.

MEDEA.

Home? . . . I have others to send home. Woe's me!

ATTENDANT.