kept from me by craft, he made reply
             That I must put away this foreign wife,
             For she was hateful in his eyes, he feared
             Her dark and dreadful deeds!  If I refused,
             My fatherland, his kingdom, I must flee.

KING.  And thou—?

JASON.  What could I?  Was she not my wife,
             That trusted to my arm to keep her safe? 
             Who challenged her, was he not then my foe? 
             Why, had he named some easier behest,
             By Heaven, I had obeyed not even that! 
             Then how grant this?  I laughed at his command.

KING.  And he—?

JASON.  Spake doom of banishment for both. 
             Forth from Iolcos on that selfsame day
             We must depart, he said.  But I would not,
             And stayed. 
                        Forthwith a grievous illness seized
             The king, and through the town a murmur ran
             Whisp’ring strange tidings:  How the aged king,
             Seated before his household shrine, whereon
             They had hung the Fleece in honor of the god,
             Gazed without ceasing on that golden prize,
             And oft would cry that thence his brother’s face
             Looked down on him,—­my father’s, whom he slew
             By guile, disputing of the Argo-quest. 
             Ay, that dead face peered down upon him now
             From every glittering lock of that bright Fleece,
             In search of which, false man! he sent me forth
             To distant lands, in hope that I should perish! 
             At last, when all the king’s house saw their need,
             To me for succor his proud daughters came,
             Begging my wife to heal him by her skill. 
             But I cried, “No!  Am I to save the man
             Who plotted certain death for me and mine?”
             And those proud maidens turned again in tears. 
             I shut me up within my house, unheeding
             Aught else that passed.  Weeping, they came again,
             And yet again; each time I said them nay. 
             And then one night, as I lay sleeping, came
             A dreadful cry before my door!  I waked
             To find Acastus, my false uncle’s son,
             Storming my portal with loud, frenzied blows,
             Calling me murderer, slayer of his sire! 
             That night the aged king had passed from life. 
             Up from my couch I sprang, and sought to speak,
             But vainly, for the people’s howls of rage
             Drowned my weak cries.  Then one among them cast
             A stone, then others.  But I drew my blade
             And through the mob to safety cut my way. 
             Since then I’ve wandered all fair Hellas o’er,
             Reviled of men, a torment to myself. 
             And, if thou, too, refuse to succor me,
             Then am I lost indeed!