The Collected Works of William Morris :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Heroes, it seems to me that hardihead
Helps mortal men but little, if thereto
They join not wisdom; now needs must we go
Into the evil sea through blue rocks twain,
Which no keel yet hath passed; although in vain
Some rash men trying it of old, have been
Pounded therein, as poisonous herbs and green
Are pounded by a witch-wife on the shore
Of Pontus,—for these two rocks evermore
Each against each are driven, and leave us not
Across the whole strait such a little spot

Safe from the grinding or their mighty blows,
As that through which a well-aimed arrow goes
When archers for a match shoot at the ring.

“Now, heroes, do I mind me of a king
That dwelleth at a seaside town of Thrace
That men call Salmydessa, from this place
A short day's sail, who hidden things can tell
Beyond all men; wherefore, I think it well
That we for counsel should now turn thereto,
Nor headlong to our own destruction go.”

Then all men said that these his words were good,
And turning, towards the Thracian coast they stood,
Which yet they reached not till the moonlit night
Was come, and from the shore the wind blew light;
Then they lay to until the dawn, and then
Creeping along, found an abode of men
That Tiphys knew to be the place they sought.
Thereat they shouted, and right quickly brought
Fair Argo to the landing-place, and threw
Grapnels ashore, and landing forthwith drew
Unto the town, seeking Phineus the king.
But those they met and asked about this thing
Grew pale at naming him, and few words said;
Natheless, they being unto the palace led,
And their names told, soon were they bidden in
To where the king sat, a man blind and thin,
And haggard beyond measure, who straightway
Called out aloud: “Now blessed be the way
That led thee to me, happiest man of all
Who from the poop see the prow rise and fall
And the sail bellying, and the glittering oars;
And blessed be the day whereon our shores
First felt thy footsteps, since across the sea
My hope and my revenge thou bring'st with thee.”

Then Jason said: “Hail, Phineus, that men call
Wisest of men, and may all good befall
Both thee and thine, and happy mayst thou live!

Yet do we rather pray thee gifts to give,
Than bring thee any gifts, for, soothly, we
Sail, desperate men and poor, across the sea.”

Then answered Phineus: “Guest, I know indeed
What gift it is that on this day ye need,
Which I will not withhold; and yet, I pray,
That ye will eat and drink with me to-day,
Then shall ye see how wise a man am I,
And how well-skilled to 'scape from misery.”

Therewith he groaned, and bade his folk to bring
Such feast as 'longed unto a mighty king,
And spread the board therewith; who straight obeyed,
Trembling and pale, and on the tables laid
A royal feast most glorious in all show.

Then said the king: “I give you now to know
That the Gods love me not, O guests; therefore,
Lest your expected feast be troubled sore,
Eat by yourselves alone, while I sit here
Looking for that which scarcely brings me fear
This day, since I so long have suffered it.”

So, wondering at his words, they all did sit
At that rich board, and ate and drank their fill;
But yet with little mirth indeed; for still
Within their wondering ears the king's word rang,
And his blind eyes, made restless by some pang,
They still felt on them, though no word he said.

At last he called out: “Though ye be full fed,
Sit still at table and behold me eat,
Then shall ye witness with what royal meat
The Gods are pleased to feed me, since I know
As much as they do both of things below
And things above.”

Then, hearkening to this word,
The most of them grew doubtful and afeard
Of what should come; but now unto the board
The king was led, and nigh his hand his sword,
Two-edged and ivory-hilted, did they lay,

And set the richest dish of all that day
Before him, and a wine-crowned golden cup,
And a pale, trembling servant lifted up
The cover from the dish; then did they hear
A wondrous rattling sound that drew anear,
Increasing quickly: then the gilded hall
Grew dark at noon, as though the night did fall,
And open were all doors and windows burst,
And such dim light gleamed out as lights the cursed,
Unto the torments behind Minos' throne:
Dim, green, and doubtful through the hall it shone,
Lighting up shapes no man had seen, before
They fell, awhile ago, upon that shore.