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النشر الإلكتروني

Of Pallas, and th' heroic chiefs themselves

Firm brandishing their oars with grasping hands.
Chiron himself from the high mountain's head
Came down beside the sea, and dipp'd his feet
In the shore's billowy foam: with many a sign
Waving his ponderous hand, and bidding them,
With acclamation, happily return.

His spouse beside him stood; and in her arms
Dandled the babe of Peleus: showing him
To his dear father. They, now, left behind
The shore-encircled bay, by Tiphys' skill
And prudence; who with art still held his hand.
On the smooth rudder, guiding it secure.
Then in the socket the rear'd mast they fix'd;
And stretch'd the cordage, bound from side to side.
Then spread the sails, and to the top-mast strain'd:
The wind fell whistling in their folds. Then fast
Upon the decks they braced the tighten'd ropes
To cramps of wood; and, calmly gliding, pass'd
Beyond Tisæum's promontory crag,
Long stretching into ocean. Then with voice
And harp Eager's son tuned smooth the lay
To high-born Dian, guardian of the ship,

Who rules the mountain beacons of the sea,
Protector of Iolchos. From the deep

The fishes upward sprang; the small and vast
Of all the scaly tribe leap'd from beneath

In bounds, and follow'd through the liquid track.
As when th' innumerable sheep, now full

Of pasture, follow on their leader's steps
Back to the sheep-fold: he before them walks,
Tuning on shrilling pipe a rustic lay;

So follow'd they, while fresher blew the gale.

PASSION OF MEDEA.

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AMIDST them all, the son of Eson, chief,
Shone forth divinely in his comeliness,
And graces of his form. On him the maid
Held still her eyes askance, and gazed him o'er
Through her transparent-glistening veil; while

grief

Consum'd her heart. Her mind, as in a dream,

Slid stealthily away, and hovering hung

On his departing footsteps. Sorrowing they
Went from the palace forth. Chalciope,
Dreading Æetes' anger, hastening pass'd
Within her secret chamber, with her sons:
And thus Medea went, her soul absorb'd
In many musings, such as love incites,

Thoughts of deep care. Now all remember'd

things

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In apparition rose before her eyes:

What was his aspect; what the robe he wore;

What words he utter'd; in what posture placed

He on the couch reclined; and with what air

He from the porch pass'd forth. Then red the blush

Burn'd on her cheek; while in her soul she

thought

No other man existed like to him:

His voice was murmuring in her ears, and all The charming words he utter'd. Now, disturb'd, She trembled for his life; lest the fierce bulls, Or lest Æetes should, himself, destroy

The man she loved: and she bewailed him now As if already dead; and down her cheek,

In deep commiseration, the soft tear

Flow'd anxiously. With piercing tone of grief Her voice found utterance:

one!

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Why, unhappy

Am I thus wretched? what concerns it me,

Whether this paragon of heroes die

The death, or flee discomfited? And yet
He should unharm'd depart. Dread Hecate!
Be it thy pleasure! let him homeward pass,
And scape his threaten'd fate: or, if his fate

Beneath the bulls have destined him to fall,

First let him know, that in his wretched end Medea does not glory." So disturb'd

Mused the sad virgin in her anguish'd thoughts.

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