The chorus enters singing.1

I heard a sound, I heard a cry

of the unhappy Colchian woman, not yet

gentled. But, old woman,

tell us. For at my doorway I heard a cry 135

from inside this house. And I was sorry for the troubles

of the family, since it is dear to me.

There is no more house. It’s all gone.

Royal sheets have taken him 140

but she weeps away her life,

my mistress, and takes no comfort

in the words of her loved ones.

Aah! <Oh Zeus and Earth and Light>

Hurl your fiery bolt of lightening straight through

my skull. What good is life to me? 145

Aah, aah. Let me die and leave

this life I hate.

— Did you hear? "Oh Zeus and Earth and Light"

what a cry the unhappy

bride intones. 150

— Why this futile longing

for the bed you have lost?

It will take you to an early grave.

Do not pray for that.

— If your husband 155

honors a new bed

that is his affair. Do not fret.

— Zeus will set this right. Do not weep

so much, grieving for your lost husband.

O great Themis and Lady Artemis, 160

do you see what I suffer, though I bound him

with mighty oaths, that perjurer,

my husband? I wish I could see him and his bride

ground down to nothing house and all —

see them, who have dared to wrong me first. 165

Oh father, oh city from which I am parted

after killing my brother without a qualm.

Do you hear what she is saying and crying out

to Themis invoked in prayer and Zeus who is

by custom the caretaker of oaths for mortal men? 170

There is no way that my mistress will

bring her anger to an end in anything small.

Is there and way you could bring her out into our sight

to hear the sound of our words spoken in comfort? 175

If only she would somehow put aside

her deeply felt anger and distemper,

I am eager to help my friends.

But [you] go in and bring her here 180

out of the house. Repeat our words spoken from the heart.

Hurry before she hurts anyone inside.

Her grief is stirred up to such a pitch.

I will do that but I am afraid I will not persuade

my mistress. 185

But I do not begrudge you the effort.

Yet it’s the look of a lioness who has just given birth

that she glares at the servants —or like a bull— when anyone

ventures near her, bringing a word of solace.

You would not be wrong in saying they were fools and no way wise 190

those mortals of earlier times who

invented songs for festivals,

feasts, and dinner parties

joyful sounds full of life.

But no one has found a way with music on the lyre with all its strings 195

to stop the hateful torments people suffer

from which deaths and terrible fates bring down our houses.

And yet it would help us all to cure sadness with songs.

Where there are bounteous dinners why lift the voice aimlessly? 200

The fullness of the feast at hand

has delight in itself for mortals.

I heard the sound of lamentations, full of sadness,

she cries shrill sad sounds of mourning 205

at the betrayer of her marriage-bed, evil husband.

Suffering injustice, she invokes

Themis keeper of oaths, daughter of Zeus,

who brought her

into Greece across the way 210

over the sea by night

upon the key of the ocean hard to cross.

This is a very unusual Parodos. Usually the chorus enters as a group and sings an ode. Here there is an operatic duet between Nurse and Medea along with the chorus, an early example of the actors encroaching on the role of the chorus. The chorus is of citizen women, the only Corinthians of citizen families in the play. This fact gives them a certain political importance, in their reactions to their king and his punishment of Medea, for example. They announce the arrival of Creon, but notice that they utter not a word in his presence. Their sympathy for Medea’s sufferings from her husband’s abuse is apparent from the start. As is the usual practice this chorus announces the reasons for its arrival: they have heard Medea’s cries and been saddened. They agree that she has been wronged and not only hererand now, but in the cosmic court of justice, "Zeus will set this right" (158, literally, "Zeus will act as your co-defendant"). Return to Medea