CREUSA (taking her hand).

Poor, lonely soul!

MEDEA.  Gentle art thou, and mild, and gracious too;
             I read it in thy face.  But oh, beware! 
             The way seems smooth.—­One step may mean thy fall! 
             Light is the skiff that bears thee down the stream,
             Advance upon the silvery, shining waves,
             Past gaily-flowered banks, where thou would’st pause.—­
             Ah, gentle pilot, is thy skill so sure? 
             Beyond thee roars the sea!  Oh, venture not
             To quit these flowery banks’ secure embrace,
             Else will the current seize thy slender craft
             And sweep thee out upon the great gray sea.—­
             Why that fixed gaze?  Dost shudder at me still? 
             There was a time when I had shuddered, too,
             At thought of such a thing as I’m become!

[She hides her face on CREUSA’s neck.]

CREUSA.  She is no wild thing!  Father, see, she weeps!

MEDEA.  I am a stranger, from a far land come,
             Naught knowing of this country’s ancient ways;
             And so they flout me, look at me askance
             As at some savage, untamed animal. 
             I am the lowest, meanest of mankind,
             I, the proud child of Colchis’ mighty king!—­
             Teach me what I must do.  Oh, I will learn
             Gladly from thee, for thou art gentle, mild. 
             ’Tis patient teaching, and not angry scorn,
             Will tame me.—­
                              Is’t thy wont to be so calm
             And so serene?  To me that happy gift
             The gods denied.  But I will learn of thee! 
             Thou hast the skill to know what pleases him,
             What makes him glad.  Oh, teach me how I may
             Once more find favor in my husband’s sight,
             And I will thank thee, thank thee!

CREUSA.  Look, my father!

KING.  Ay, bring her with thee.

CREUSA.  Wilt thou come, Medea?

MEDEA.  I’ll follow gladly, whereso’er thou goest. 
             Have pity on me, lone, unfriended, sad,
             And hide me from the king’s stern, pitiless eyes!

(To the KING.)

Now may’st thou gaze thy fill.  My fears are fled,
E’en while I know thy musings bode me ill. 
Thy child is tenderer than her father.

CREUSA.  Come! 
             He would not harm thee.  Come, ye children, too.

[CREUSA leads MEDEA and the children away.]

KING.  Hast heard?

JASON.  I have.

KING.  And so, that is thy wife! 
             That thou wert wedded, Rumor long since cried,
             But I believed not.  Now, when I have seen,
             Belief is still less easy.  She—­thy wife?