The goddess of his worship. Timidly
He seeks her eyes, to learn if haply she
Seek his as well; and when their glances meet,
His soul is glad. Then to her father straight
And to her mother goes he, as is meet,
And begs their treasure, and they give consent.
Comes then the bridal day; from far and near
Their kinsmen gather; all the town has part
In their rejoicing. Richly decked with wreaths
And dainty blossoms, to the altar then
He leads his bride; and there a rosy flush,
Of maiden shyness born, plays on her cheek
The while she trembles with a holy fear
At what is none the less her dearest wish.
Upon her head her father lays his hands
And blesses her and all her seed to come.
Such happy wooing breeds undying love
'Twixt wife and husband.--'Twas of such I dreamed.
Alas, it came not! What have I done, ye gods!
To be denied what ye are wont to give
Even to the poorest? Why have I alone
No refuge from the buffets of the world
At mine own hearth, no dear companion there,
My own, in truth, my own in plighted troth?

CREUSA. Thou didst not woo thy wife as others, then?
Her father did not raise his hand to bless?

JASON. He raised it, ay, but armed with a sword;
And 'twas no blessing, but a curse he spake.
But I--I had a swift and sweet revenge!
His only son is dead, and he himself
Lies dumb in the grave. His curse alone lives still--
Or so it seems.

CREUSA. Alas, how strange to think
Of all the change a few brief years have wrought!
Thou wert so soft and gentle, and art now
So stern. But I am still the selfsame maid
As then, have still the selfsame hopes and fears,
And what I then thought right, I think right still,
What then I blamed, cannot think blameless now.--
But thou art changed.

JASON. Ay, thou hast hit the truth!
The real misfortune in a hapless lot
Is this: that man is to himself untrue.
Here one must show him master, there must cringe
And bow the knee; here Justice moves a