But freer and prouder stood no son than he

Of all she bare before her heart was bowed;

None higher than he who heard

Medea's keen last word

Transpierce her traitor, and like a rushing cloud

That sundering shows a star

Saw pass her thunderous car

And a face whiter and deadlier than a shroud

That lightened from it, and the brand

Of tender blood that falling seared his suppliant hand.

24.

More fair than all things born and slain of fate,

More glorious than all births of days and nights,

He bade the spirit of man regenerate,

Rekindling, rise and reassume the rights

That in high seasons of his old estate

Clothed him and armed with majesties and mights

Heroic, when the times and hearts were great

And in the depths of ages rose the heights

Radiant of high deeds done

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