He went
toward her, but in a harsh voice she bade him not come near to
disturb the brewing that she was going to begin. Jason turned
away. As he went toward the palace he saw Glauce, King Creon's
daughter; the maiden was coming from the well and she carried a
pitcher of water. He thought how fair Glauce looked in the light
of the morning, how the wind played with her hair and her
garments, and how far away she was from witcheries and
enchantments.
As for Medea, she placed in a heap beside her the magic herbs and
grasses she had gathered. Then she put them in a bronze pot and
boiled them in water from the stream. Soon froth came on the
boiling, and Medea stirred the pot with a withered branch of an
apple tree. The branch was withered it was indeed no more than a
dry stick, but as she stirred the herbs and grasses with it,
first leaves, then flowers, and lastly, bright gleaming apples
came on it. And when the pot boiled over and drops from it fell
upon the ground, there grew up out of the dry earth soft grasses
and flowers. Such was the power of renewal that was in the
magical brew that Medea had made.
She filled a phial with the liquid she had brewed, and she
scattered the rest in the wild places of the garden. Then, taking
the phial and the apples that had grown on the withered branch,
she mounted the car drawn by the dragons, and she went once more
from Corinth.
On she journeyed in her dragon-drawn car until she came to a
place that was near to Iolcus.
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