The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III, IV, V, VI. |
 | VII. |
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| XIV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XL. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| LII. |
| LIV. |
| LVII. |
| LIX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXVI. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXXII. |
| LXXXVI. |
| XC. |
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| VIII. |
| XIV. |
| XVII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXIII. |
| XLIII. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
And in meantime, 'twixt silent trembling bower
And silent cursing hall, hour after hour
Did Gudrun pace with restless feet, and heart
Betwixt two nameless miseries torn apart,
Whence cold despair was being well fashioned now.
And Oswif sat apart with wrinkled brow,
Unnoted in that house of grief and wrong.
But midst their shame, from outside, laugh and song
Came loud and louder, mingled with the clank
Of mead-horns; the feast's clamour never sank
Till mid-day was well past; then quieter
It grew without, and yet they still might hear
Lowing of neat and men's shouts. Then a voice
Cried from the slope-side:
And silent cursing hall, hour after hour
Did Gudrun pace with restless feet, and heart
Betwixt two nameless miseries torn apart,
Whence cold despair was being well fashioned now.
And Oswif sat apart with wrinkled brow,
Unnoted in that house of grief and wrong.
But midst their shame, from outside, laugh and song
Came loud and louder, mingled with the clank
Of mead-horns; the feast's clamour never sank
Till mid-day was well past; then quieter
It grew without, and yet they still might hear
Lowing of neat and men's shouts. Then a voice
Cried from the slope-side:
“Bathstead men, rejoice
That ye no autumn-feast need hold this year,
For certes else should ye find victuals dear
And hard to come by! Oswif's sons, come out,
Unarmed and peaceable, and have no doubt
Of hurt from us!”
That ye no autumn-feast need hold this year,
For certes else should ye find victuals dear
And hard to come by! Oswif's sons, come out,
Unarmed and peaceable, and have no doubt
Of hurt from us!”
They stirred not for a space;
Then cried the voice: “Lives none within the place?
Are ye all dead of fear? Come out, I say,
Else o'er your roof the red cock crows to-day!”
Then cried the voice: “Lives none within the place?
Are ye all dead of fear? Come out, I say,
Else o'er your roof the red cock crows to-day!”
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |