But terrible, she sets herself 855
Against e'en Creon's royal power.
An exile who would deem her now?
Her cheeks anon with anger flush,
And now a deadly pallor show;
Each feeling quick succeeds to each, 860
While all the passions of her heart
Her changing aspect testifies.
She wanders restless here and there,
As a tigress, of her young bereft,
In frantic grief the jungle scours. 865
Medea knows not how in check
To hold her wrath nor yet her love;
If love and wrath make common cause,
What dire results will come?
When will this scourge of Corinth leave 870
Our Grecian shores for Colchis' strand,
And free our kingdom from its fear?
Now, Phoebus, hasten on thy course
With no retarding rein. 875
Let friendly darkness quickly veil the light,
And this dread day be buried deep in night.
ACT V
Messenger [comes running in from the direction of the palace]: Lo,
all is lost! the kingdom totters from its base!
The daughter and the father lie in common dust! 880
Chorus: By what snare taken?
Messenger: By gifts, the common snare of kings.
Chorus: What harm could lurk in them?
Messenger: In equal doubt I stand;
And, though my eyes proclaim the dreadful deed is done,
I scarce can trust their witness.
Chorus: What the mode of death?
Messenger: Devouring flames consume the palace at the will 885
Of her who sent them; there complete destruction reigns,
While men do tremble for the very city's doom.
Chorus: Let water quench the fire.
Messenger: Nay here is added wonder:
