Oh! has your sweetest shell no power to bind 15 And lull the wrath, at whose command 29 SPEECH OF THE CHORUS IN THE SAME TRAGEDY, To dissuade Medea from her purpose of putting her chil dren to death, and flying for protection to Athens. HAGGARD queen to Athens dost thou guide Where Peace and Mercy dwell for evermore? The land where Truth, pure, precious, and sublime, Where joyous Youth, to Music's mellow strain, 5 Twines in the dance with Nymphs for ever fair, 10 While Spring eternal, on the lilied plain, Waves amber radiance through the fields of air! The tuneful Nine (so sacred legends tell) First wak'd their heavenly lyre these scenes among Still in your greenwood bowers they love to dwell; 15 Still in your vales they swell the choral song! For there the tuneful, chaste, Pierian fair, ANTISTROPHE I. Where silent vales, and glades of green array, And blest the stream, and breath'd across the land, 25 The soft sweet gale that fans yon summer bowers; And there the sister Loves, a smiling band, Crown'd with the fragrant wreathes of rosy flowers! "And go, (she cries) in yonder valleys rove, With Beauty's torch the solemn scenes illume; 30 Wake in each eye the radiant light of Love, Breathe on each cheek young Passion's tender bloom! Entwine, with myrtle chains, your soft control, $5 STROPHE II. The land where Heaven's own hallow'd waters play, Where friendship binds the generous and the good, Say, shall it hail thee from thy frantic way, Unholy woman! with thy hands imbrued In thine own children's gore?-Oh! ere they bleed, Pause at the bold, irrevocable deed The mother strikes-the guiltless babes shall fall! 40 Think what remorse thy maddening thoughts shall sting, When dying pangs their gentle bosoms tear; Where shalt thou sink, when ling'ring echoes ring 45 No! let thy bosom melt to Pity's cry, In dust we kneel-by sacred Heaven implore 50 O! stop thy lifted arm, ere yet they die, F ANTISTROPHE II. Say, how shalt thou that barb'rous soul assume, When o'er each babe you look a last adieu, When the young suppliants clasp their parent dear, $5 60 Nature shall throb in ev'ry tender string,- 65 Thy horror-smitten hands afar shall fling The blade, undrench'd in blood's eternal dye! CHORUS. Hallow'd Earth! with indignation Mark, oh mark, the murd'rous deed! Radiant eye of wide creation, Watch the damned parricide! 70 |