The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
But Jason, when he saw him, wept, and said:
“Ill hast thou fared, O friend, that I was led
To take thy gifts and slay thee; in such guise,
Blind and unwitting, do fools die and wise,
And I myself may hap to come to die
By that I trusted, and like thee to lie
Dead ere my time, a wonder to the world.
But, O poor King, thy corpse shall not be hurled
Hither and thither by the heedless wave,
But in an urn thine ashes will I save,
And build a temple when I come to Greece
A rich man, with the fair-curled Golden Fleece,
And set them there, and call it by thy name,
That thou mayst yet win an undying fame.”
“Ill hast thou fared, O friend, that I was led
To take thy gifts and slay thee; in such guise,
Blind and unwitting, do fools die and wise,
And I myself may hap to come to die
By that I trusted, and like thee to lie
77
But, O poor King, thy corpse shall not be hurled
Hither and thither by the heedless wave,
But in an urn thine ashes will I save,
And build a temple when I come to Greece
A rich man, with the fair-curled Golden Fleece,
And set them there, and call it by thy name,
That thou mayst yet win an undying fame.”
Then hasted all the men, and in a while,
'Twixt sea and woodland, raised a mighty pile,
And there they burned him; but for spices sweet
Could cast thereon but wrack from 'neath their feet,
And wild wood flowers, and resin from the pine;
And when the pile grew low, with odorous wine
They quenched the ashes, and the king's they set
Within a golden vessel, that with fret
Of twining boughs and gem-made flowers was wrought
That they from Pelias' treasure-house had brought.
Then, since the sun his high meridian
Had left, they pushed into the waters wan,
And so, with hoisted sail and stroke of oar,
Drew off from that unlucky fateful shore.
'Twixt sea and woodland, raised a mighty pile,
And there they burned him; but for spices sweet
Could cast thereon but wrack from 'neath their feet,
And wild wood flowers, and resin from the pine;
And when the pile grew low, with odorous wine
They quenched the ashes, and the king's they set
Within a golden vessel, that with fret
Of twining boughs and gem-made flowers was wrought
That they from Pelias' treasure-house had brought.
Then, since the sun his high meridian
Had left, they pushed into the waters wan,
And so, with hoisted sail and stroke of oar,
Drew off from that unlucky fateful shore.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |