Children's Guardian.
Not thou alone art severed from thy sons.
Submissively must mortals bear mischance.
Medea.
This will I: but within the house go thou,
And for my children's daily needs prepare. 1020
[Exit Children's Guardian.
O children, children, yours a city is,
And yours a home, where, leaving wretched me,
Dwell shall ye, of your mother aye bereft.
I shall go exiled to another land,
Ere I have joyed in you, have seen your bliss, 1025
Ere I have decked for you the couch, the bride,
The bridal bower, and held the torch on high.
O me accurst in this my ruthless mood!
For nought, for nought, my babes, I nurtured you,
And all for nought I laboured, travail-worn, 1030
Bearing sharp anguish in your hour of birth.
Ah for the hopes—unhappy!—all mine hopes
Of ministering hands about mine age,
Of dying folded round with loving arms,
All men's desire! But now—'tis past—'tis past, 1035
That sweet imagining! Forlorn of you
A bitter life and woeful shall I waste.
Your mother never more with loving eyes
Shall ye behold, passed to another life.
Woe! woe! why gaze your eyes on me, my darlings? 1040
Why smile to me the latest smile of all?
Alas! what shall I do?—Mine heart is failing
As I behold my children's laughing eyes!
Women, I cannot! farewell, purposes
