Of the misery-stricken; nor yet is she stilled. Now the tale of her tell,
Grey woman; for moaned through the porch from her chamber the wail of her sighing;
And I cannot, I cannot be glad while the home in affliction is lying,
The house I have loved so well.
Nurse.
Home?—home there is none: it hath vanished away:
For my lord to a bride of the princes is thrall; 140
And my lady is pining the livelong day
In her bower, and for nought that her friends' lips say
On her heart may the dews of comfort fall.
Medea (behind the scenes).
Would God that the flame of the lightning from heaven descending, descending,
Might burn through mine head!—for in living wherein any more is my gain?
Alas and alas! Would God I might bring to an ending, an ending,
The life that I loathe, and behind me might cast all its burden of pain!
Chorus.
(Str.)
O Zeus, Earth, Light, did ye hear her,
How waileth the woe-laden breath
Of the bride in unhappiest plight?
What yearning for vanished delight, 150
O passion-distraught, should have might
To cause thee to wish death nearer—
The ending of all things, death?
