The Argonauts

To ARGONAUTAE No passion stirs their depth, nor moves; No life disturbs their sweet dead loves; No being holds a crown or throne ; They are, and I in them, alone, Only some lute-player grown star Is heard like whispering flowers afar; And some divided, single tune Sobs from the sea and moon. Amid thy mountains shall I rise, O moon, and float about thy skies? Beneath thy waters shall I roam, O sea, and call thy valleys home? Or on Daedalian oarage fare Forth in the interlunar air? Imageless mirror-life! to be Sole between moon and sea. CHORUS. No song can lure us while he sings so well. JASON. But look! I see entrancing woman-forms That beckon—fairy-like and not of earth. So, fitter than the bed of this my queen To rest heroic limbs! MEDEA. The wretched one! Thou knowest that their kiss is death!