Medea

Euripides

Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, Translated into English Prose from the Text of Paley. Vol. I. Coleridge, Edward P., translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1906.

  1. Ο, I did wrong, that hour I left my father’s home, persuaded by that Hellene’s words, who now shall pay the penalty, so help me God. Never shall he see again alive the children I bore to him,
  2. nor from his new bride shall he beget issue, for she must die a hideous death, slain by my drugs. Let no one deem me a poor weak woman who sits with folded hands, but of another mould, dangerous to foes and well-disposed to friends;
  3. for they win the fairest fame who live their life like me.
Chorus
  1. Since thou hast imparted this design to me, I bid thee hold thy hand, both from a wish to serve thee and because I would uphold the laws men make.
Medea
  1. It cannot but be so; thy words
  2. I pardon since thou art not in the same sorry plight that I am.
Chorus
  1. O lady, wilt thou steel thyself to slay thy children twain?
Medea
  1. I will, for that will stab my husband to the heart.
Chorus
  1. It may, but thou wilt be the saddest wife alive.
Medea
  1. No matter; wasted is every word that comes ’twixt now and then.
  2. (To the Nurse.) Ho! thou, go call me Jason hither, for thee I do employ on every mission of trust. No word divulge of all my purpose, as thou art to thy mistress loyal and likewise of my sex.
Chorus
  1. Sons of Erechtheus, heroes happy from of yore,
  2. children of the blessed gods, fed on wisdom’s glorious food in a holy land ne’er pillaged by its foes, ye who move with sprightly step through a climate ever bright
  3. and clear,
    where, as legend tells, the Muses nine, Pieria’s holy maids, were brought to birth by Harmonia with the golden hair;
Chorus
  1. and poets sing how Cypris drawing water from the streams of fair-flowing Cephissus breathes[*](Reading χώρας with Reiske. The passage is corrupt, and possibly some word is lost.) o’er the land a gentle breeze
  2. of balmy winds, and ever as she crowns her tresses with a garland of sweet rose-buds sends forth the Loves to sit by wisdom’s side,
  3. to take a part in every excellence.
Chorus
  1. How then shall the city of sacred streams, the land that welcomes those it loves, receive thee, the murderess of thy children,
  2. thee whose presence with others is a pollution? Think on the murder of thy children, consider the bloody deed thou takest on thee. Nay, by thy knees we, one and all, implore thee,
  3. slay not thy babes.