Jason and the Argonauts (Penguin Classics) by Apollonius of Rhodes

Author:Apollonius of Rhodes
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2014-10-27T16:00:00+00:00

BOOK 4

Now Zeus’ daughter, deathless Muse, describe

for me the Colchian maiden’s wiles and worries.

The mind within me spins in speechlessness,

wondering whether I should call the impulse

5that drove her to forsake the Colchian people

a wild obsession’s lovesick injury

or headlong panic running from disgrace.

Up in the palace all night long Aeëtes

worked with his council on a foolproof plan

10to catch the heroes. He was vengeance-hearted,

wildly incensed about the painful contest,

but never for a moment thought his daughters

had worked to bring about the stranger’s triumph.

Hera, meanwhile, had pierced Medea’s heart

15 (12)with poignant dread. The girl was shaking like

a nimble fawn that baying hounds have trapped,

trembling, in a densely wooded thicket.

All in a flash she sensed the aid she gave

the foreigners had not escaped her father;

20her cup of woe would soon be overflowing;

surely her handmaids would divulge the crime.

Her eyes were full of fire, her ears abuzz

with trepidation. Time and time again

she gripped her throat, time and again pulled out

25her hair, and moaned in sorry misery.

She would have drained a vial of poison, died

right then and there before her proper time,

and ruined all of Hera’s plans, had not

the goddess driven her to run away,

30 (22)in utter terror, with the sons of Phrixus.

Once her fluttering heart had calmed, she poured

the potions from her lap into the casket.

She kissed her bed good-bye and kissed the frame

around the double doors and stroked the walls.

35She clipped a lock and left it for her mother

as a memento of her maidenhood,

then, sobbing, brought out heartfelt lamentation:

“I’m going, Mother, but have left this tress

to take my place when I am gone—farewell.

40Farewell, Chalciope. Farewell, old home.

Stranger, I wish the sea had torn you up

before you ever reached the land of Colchis.”

So she spoke, and from her eyelids tears

came pouring down. Picture a girl that fate

45 (35)has torn out of a wealthy home and homeland,

how, since she is unused to heavy labor

and ignorant of what slaves do and suffer,

she goes abroad to serve a mistress’

relentless whims in terror—that’s the way

50lovely Medea crept out of the palace.

The latches on the doors undid themselves

all on their own before her muttered spells.

Barefoot, she scampered down the narrow alleys,

her left hand pressed against her brow and draping

55a veil that cloaked her eyes and radiant cheeks,

her right hand holding up her dress’s hem.

So, frantic and in fear, she made her way

by covert routes outside the battlements

of broadly paved Aea. No watchmen

60 (49)observed her, no, she hastened past unseen.

Safely outside, she contemplated deep

within herself how best to reach the temple.

She was quite familiar with the roads

since she had traveled on them many times

65in search of corpses and the earth’s worst herbs,

the kinds that witches use. Convulsive terror

fluttered her spirit.

The Titanian Moon

had just then risen over the horizon.

She saw the maiden straying far from home

70in misery and cackled to herself:

“Well, well, I’m not the only one, it seems,

to slip away into a Latmian grotto,

no, not the only one to burn with love

for an adorable Endymion.

75 (59)You bitch! How often you have woven magic

to drive me from the sky in search

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