CREUSA.  Dost thou remember all these things so well?

JASON.  They are the cup from which, in greedy draughts,
             I drink the only comfort left me now.

MEDEA (who has gone silently up-stage and taken up again the discarded lyre).

Jason, I know a song!

JASON (not noticing her).

And then the tower! 
Know’st thou that tower upon the sea-strand there,
Where by thy father thou didst stand and weep,
What time I climbed the Argo’s side, to sail
On that far journey?  For thy falling tears
I had no eyes, my heart but thirsted deep
For deeds of prowess.  Lo, there came a breeze
That loosed the wimple bound about thy locks
And dropped it on the waves.  Straightway I sprang
Into the sea, and caught it up, to keep
In memory of thee when far away.

CREUSA.  Hast thou it still?

JASON.  Nay, think how many years
             Are gone since then, and with them this, thy token,
             Blown far by some stray breeze.

MEDEA.  I know a song!

JASON (ignoring her).

Then didst thou cry to me, “Farewell, my brother!”

CREUSA.  And now my cry is, “Brother, welcome home!”

MEDEA (plaintively).

Jason, I know a song.

CREUSA.  She knows a song
             That thou wert wont to sing.  I pray thee, listen,
             And she will sing it thee.

JASON.  A song?  Well, well! 
             Where was I, then?—­From childhood I was wont
             To dream and dream, and babble foolishly
             Of things that were not and could never be. 
             That habit clung to me, and mocks me now. 
             For, as the youth lives ever in the future,
             So the grown man looks alway to the past,
             And, young or old, we know not how to live
             Within the present.  In my dreams I was
             A mighty hero, girded for great deeds,
             And had a loving wife, and gold, and much
             Goodly possessions, and a peaceful home
             Wherein slept babes of mine.

(To MEDEA.)

What is it thou
Wouldst have with me?

CREUSA.  She asks to sing a song
             That thou in youth wert wont to sing to us.

JASON (to MEDEA).

And thou hast learned it?

MEDEA.  I have done my best.

JASON.  Go to!  Dost think to give me back my youth,
             Or happiness to win again for me,
             By singing me some paltry, childish tune? 
             Give o’er!  We will not part, but live together;
             That is our fate, it seems, as things have chanced;
             But let me bear no word of foolish songs
             Or suchlike nonsense!