4 ARGONAUTAE
MEDEA.
But this is like
That Indian fable of a king: how he,
Taking some woman—an indecent act
Not proper to be done!—against the will
Of priests or princes, sought the nuptial bed
And
“Climbed the bed’s disastrous side,
He found a serpent, not a bride;
And scarcely daring to draw breath,
He passed the dumb night-hours with death,
Till in the morning cold and gray
The hooded fear glided away.
Which morning saw ten thousand pay
The price of jesting with a king!”—
JASON.
Indeed these toils and dangerous pursuits,
Labours and journeys, go to make one mad.
Well were it to beguile our weariness
With song.
MEDEA.
And here is the sole king of song.
ORPHEUS.
My song breaks baffled on the rocks of time
If thy bewitching beauty be the theme.
MEDEA.
Sing me thy song, sweet poet, of the sea