Medea of Euripides. Euripides

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ All fasting now

       And cold, her body yielded up to pain,

       Her days a waste of weeping, she hath lain,

       Since first she knew that he was false. Her eyes

       Are lifted not; and all her visage lies

       In the dust. If friends will speak, she hears no more

       Than some dead rock or wave that beats the shore:

       Only the white throat in a sudden shame

       May writhe, and all alone she moans the name

       Of father, and land, and home, forsook that day

       For this man's sake, who casteth her away.

       Not to be quite shut out from home … alas,

       She knoweth now how rare a thing that was!

       Methinks she hath a dread, not joy, to see

       Her children near. 'Tis this that maketh me

       Most tremble, lest she do I know not what.

       Her heart is no light thing, and useth not

       To brook much wrong. I know that woman, aye,

       And dread her! Will she creep alone to die

       Bleeding in that old room, where still is laid

       Lord Jason's bed? She hath for that a blade

       Made keen. Or slay the bridegroom and the king,

       And win herself God knows what direr thing?

       'Tis a fell spirit. Few, I ween, shall stir

       Her hate unscathed, or lightly humble her.

       Ha! 'Tis the children from their games again,

       Rested and gay; and all their mother's pain

       Forgotten! Young lives ever turn from gloom!

      [The Children and their Attendant come in.

      Attendant.

      Thou ancient treasure of my lady's room,

       What mak'st thou here before the gates alone,

       And alway turning on thy lips some moan

       Of old mischances? Will our mistress be

       Content, this long time to be left by thee?

      Nurse.

      Grey guard of Jason's children, a good thrall

       Hath his own grief, if any hurt befall

       His masters. Aye, it holds one's heart! …

       Meseems

       I have strayed out so deep in evil dreams,

       I longed to rest me here alone, and cry

       Medea's wrongs to this still Earth and Sky.

      Attendant.

      How? Are the tears yet running in her eyes?

      Nurse.

      'Twere good to be like thee! … Her sorrow lies

       Scarce wakened yet, not half its perils wrought.

      Attendant.

      Mad spirit! … if a man may speak his thought

      Of masters mad.—And nothing in her ears

      Hath sounded yet of her last cause for tears!

      [He moves towards the house, but the Nurse checks him.

      Nurse.

      What cause, old man? … Nay, grudge me not one word.

      Attendant.

      'Tis nothing. Best forget what thou hast heard.

      Nurse.

      Nay, housemate, by thy beard! Hold it not hid

      From me. … I will keep silence if thou bid.

      Attendant.

      I heard an old man talking, where he sate

      At draughts in the sun, beside the fountain gate,

      And never thought of me, there standing still

      Beside him. And he said, 'Twas Creon's will,

      Being lord of all this land, that she be sent,

      And with her her two sons, to banishment.

      Maybe 'tis all false. For myself, I know

      No further, and I would it were not so.

      Nurse.

      Jason will never bear it--his own sons

      Banished—however hot his anger runs

      Against their mother!

      Attendant.

      Old love burneth low

      When new love wakes, men say. He is not now

      Husband nor father here, nor any kin.

      Nurse.

      But this is ruin! New waves breaking in

      To wreck us, ere we are righted from the old!

      Attendant.

      Well, hold thy peace. Our mistress will be told

      All in good time. Speak thou no word hereof.

      Nurse.

      My babes! What think ye of your father's love?

      God curse him not, he is my master still:

      But, oh, to them that loved him, 'tis an ill

      Friend. …

      Attendant.

      And what man on earth is different? How?

      Hast thou lived all these years, and learned but now

      That every man more loveth his own head

      Than other men's? He dreameth of the bed

      Of this new bride, and thinks not of his sons.

      Nurse.

СКАЧАТЬ