CREUSA.  I have a charm will save thee yet.

JASON.  Ay, all that thou would’st say, I know before: 
             Undo the past, as though it ne’er had been. 
             I never left my fatherland, but stayed
             With thee and thine in Corinth, never saw
             The Golden Fleece, nor stepped on Colchis’ strand,
             Ne’er saw that woman that I now call wife! 
             Send thou her home to her accursed land,
             Cause her to take with her all memory
             That she was ever here.—­Do thou but this,
             And I will be a man again, and dwell
             With men.

CREUSA.  Is that thy charm?  I know a better;
             A simple heart, I mean, a mind at peace.

JASON.  Ah, thou art good!  Would I could learn this peace
             Of thee!

CREUSA.  To all that choose, the gods will give it. 
             Thou hadst it once, and canst have yet again.

JASON.  Dost thou think often on our happy youth?

CREUSA.  Ay, many a time, and gladly.

JASON.  How we were
             One heart, one soul?

CREUSA.  I made thee gentler, thou
             Didst give me courage.—­Dost remember how
             I set thy helm upon my head?

JASON.  And how
             Because it was too large, thy tiny hands
             Did hold it up, the while it rested soft
             Upon thy golden curls?  Creusa, those
             Were happy days!

CREUSA.  Dost mind thee how my father
             Was filled with joy to see it, and, in jest,
             Did name us bride and bridegroom?

JASON.  Ay—­but that
             Was not to be.

CREUSA.  Like many another hope
             That disappoints us.—­Still, what matters it? 
             We mean to be no less good friends, I trust!

[MEDEA reenters.]

MEDEA.  I’ve seen the children.  They are safe.

JASON (absently).

’Tis well.

(Continuing his revery.)

All those fair spots our happy youth once knew,
Linked to my memory with slender threads,
All these I sought once more, when first I came
Again to Corinth, and I cooled my breast
And dipped my burning lips in that bright spring
Of my lost childhood.  Once again, methought,
I drove my chariot through the market-place,
Guiding my fiery steeds where’er I would,
Or, wrestling with some fellow of the crowd,
Gave blow for blow, while thou didst stand to watch,
Struck dumb with terror, filled with angry fears,
Hating, for my sake, all who raised a hand
Against me.  Or again I seemed to be
Within the solemn temple, where we knelt
Together, there, and there alone, forgetful
Each of the other, our soft-moving lips
Up-sending to the gods from our two breasts
A single heart, made one by bonds of love.