Epistulae

lately born, committed? What could one scarcely brought forth do to offend his grandfather? If it were possible for him to have deserved so hard a fate, let him be thought to have deserved it. Alas, unhappy balse, you suffer for the guilt to your mother! O my darling son, to be your mother's grief, and the prey of wild beasts! alas! doomed to be destroyed on the very day of your birth; ill-fated babe, the mournful pledge of our unhappy loves; this was your first day of life, this also must be your last! I was not allowed to shed over you a mother's tears, or offer upon your sepulchre my shora hair. I did not hang over thy lifeless frame, or snatch from thy mouth the cold kisses. My bowels, alas! are made a prey to savage beasts. But I will soon follow by this wound thy infant shade: not long a mother, nor long shall I be called childless. But thou, in vain, alas! thy wretched sister's hope, fail not to gather up the scattered members of thy son; bear them to his fond mother's grave, and unite them with her in the social tomb: let the same urn, though small, contain us

both. Live ever mindful of your Canace, and shed some tears over my wound: nor fear to touch the breathless body of one whom you loved. Fulfil these last commands of thy hapless sister; and I will execute the cruel mandates of my unrelenting sire.

WELL I remember that, though queen of Colchis, I found leisure to provide for your safety, when you requested the help of my art. Then, if ever, the Sisters, who measure out the thread of human life, ought to have finished the number of my days. Then might Medea have died honorably. Life ever since has been a series of woes. Alas! why did the Thessalian bark, manned by a