Oh! has your sweetest shell no power to bind 15
The fiercer pangs that shake the mind,

And lull the wrath, at whose command
Murder bares her gory hand?
When flush'd with joy, the rosy throng
Weave the light dance, ye swell the song!
Cease, ye vain warblers! cease to charm
The breast with other raptures warm!
Cease! till your hand with magic strain
In slumbers steep the heart of pain!

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SPEECH OF THE CHORUS

IN

THE SAME TRAGEDY,

To dissuade Medea from her purpose of putting her chil dren to death, and flying for protection to Athens.

HAGGARD queen to Athens dost thou guide
Thy glowing chariot, steep'd in kindred gore;
Or seek to hide thy damned parricide

Where Peace and Mercy dwell for evermore?

The land where Truth, pure, precious, and sublime,
Woos the deep silence of sequester'd bowers,
And warriors, matchless since the first of Time,
Rear their bright banners o'er unconquer'd towers!

Where joyous Youth, to Music's mellow strain,

5

Twines in the dance with Nymphs for ever fair, 10 While Spring eternal, on the lilied plain,

Waves amber radiance through the fields of air!

The tuneful Nine (so sacred legends tell)

First wak'd their heavenly lyre these scenes among Still in your greenwood bowers they love to dwell; 15 Still in your vales they swell the choral song!

For there the tuneful, chaste, Pierian fair,
The guardian nymphs of green Parnassus now,
Sprung from Harmonia, while her graceful hair
Wav'd in bright auburn o'er her polish'd brow! 20

ANTISTROPHE I.

Where silent vales, and glades of green array,
The murm'ring wreaths of cool Cephisus lave,
There, as the Muse hath sung, at noon of day,
The Queen of Beauty bow'd to taste the wave;

And blest the stream, and breath'd across the land, 25 The soft sweet gale that fans yon summer bowers; And there the sister Loves, a smiling band,

Crown'd with the fragrant wreathes of rosy flowers!

"And go, (she cries) in yonder valleys rove,

With Beauty's torch the solemn scenes illume;

30

Wake in each eye the radiant light of Love,

Breathe on each cheek young Passion's tender bloom!

Entwine, with myrtle chains, your soft control,
To sway the hearts of Freedom's darling kind!
With glowing charms enrapture Wisdom's soul,
And mould to grace ethereal Virtue's mind."

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STROPHE II.

The land where Heaven's own hallow'd waters play, Where friendship binds the generous and the good, Say, shall it hail thee from thy frantic way,

Unholy woman! with thy hands imbrued

In thine own children's gore?-Oh! ere they bleed,
Let Nature's voice thy ruthless heart appal!

Pause at the bold, irrevocable deed

The mother strikes-the guiltless babes shall fall!

40

Think what remorse thy maddening thoughts shall

sting,

When dying pangs their gentle bosoms tear;

Where shalt thou sink, when ling'ring echoes ring
The screams of horror in thy tortur'd ear?

45

No! let thy bosom melt to Pity's cry,

In dust we kneel-by sacred Heaven implore

50

O! stop thy lifted arm, ere yet they die,
Nor dip thy horrid hands in infant gore!

F

ANTISTROPHE II.

Say, how shalt thou that barb'rous soul assume,
Undamp'd by horror at the daring plan?
Hast thou a heart to work thy children's doom?
Or hands to finish what thy wrath began?

When o'er each babe you look a last adieu,
And gaze on innocence that smiles asleep,
Shall no fond feeling beat, to nature true,
Charm thee to pensive thought-and bid thee
weep?

When the young suppliants clasp their parent dear,
Heave the deep sob, and pour the artless prayer,-
Ay! thou shalt melt;-and many a heartshed tear
Gush o'er the harden'd features of despair!

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60

Nature shall throb in ev'ry tender string,-
Thy trembling heart the ruffian's task deny;-

65

Thy horror-smitten hands afar shall fling

The blade, undrench'd in blood's eternal dye!

CHORUS.

Hallow'd Earth! with indignation

Mark, oh mark, the murd'rous deed!

Radiant eye of wide creation,

Watch the damned parricide!

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