The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
So speaking, on the dulled fire did she fling
The unknown grains; but when the Three-formed heard
From out her trembling lips that impious word,
She granted all her asking, though she knew
What evil road Medea hurried to
Which fainer had she barred from her that night.
So, now again their bale-fire flamed up bright,
The smoke grew thin, and in the brazen bowl
Boiling the mingled herbs did twine and roll,
And with new light Medea's wearied eyes
Gleamed in the fireshine o'er those mysteries;
And taking a green twig from off the ground,
Therewith she stirred the mess, that cast around
A shower of hissing sparks and vapour white,
Sharp to the taste, and 'wildering to the sight;
Which when she saw, the vessel off she drew,
As though the ending of her toil she knew,
And cooling for awhile she let it stand,
But at the last therein she laid her hand,
And when she drew it out she thrust the same
Amidst the fire, but neither coal nor flame
The tender rosy flesh could harm a whit,
Nor was there mark or blemish left on it.
The unknown grains; but when the Three-formed heard
From out her trembling lips that impious word,
She granted all her asking, though she knew
106
Which fainer had she barred from her that night.
So, now again their bale-fire flamed up bright,
The smoke grew thin, and in the brazen bowl
Boiling the mingled herbs did twine and roll,
And with new light Medea's wearied eyes
Gleamed in the fireshine o'er those mysteries;
And taking a green twig from off the ground,
Therewith she stirred the mess, that cast around
A shower of hissing sparks and vapour white,
Sharp to the taste, and 'wildering to the sight;
Which when she saw, the vessel off she drew,
As though the ending of her toil she knew,
And cooling for awhile she let it stand,
But at the last therein she laid her hand,
And when she drew it out she thrust the same
Amidst the fire, but neither coal nor flame
The tender rosy flesh could harm a whit,
Nor was there mark or blemish left on it.
Then did she pour what else the brass might hold
Into a fair gemmed phial wrought of gold,
Drawn from the mystic wallet, and straightway
She stopped the mouth, and in its place did lay
The well-wrought phial, girding to her side
The wallet which that precious thing did hide;
Then all the remnants of the herbs she cast
On to the fire, and straight therefrom there passed
A high white flame, and when that sunk, outright
Her bale-fire died into the voiceless night.
Into a fair gemmed phial wrought of gold,
Drawn from the mystic wallet, and straightway
She stopped the mouth, and in its place did lay
The well-wrought phial, girding to her side
The wallet which that precious thing did hide;
Then all the remnants of the herbs she cast
On to the fire, and straight therefrom there passed
A high white flame, and when that sunk, outright
Her bale-fire died into the voiceless night.
But toward the river did she turn again,
Not heeding the rough ways, or any pain,
But running swiftly came unto her boat,
And in the mid-stream soon was she afloat,
Drawn onward toward the town by flood of tide.
Not heeding the rough ways, or any pain,
But running swiftly came unto her boat,
And in the mid-stream soon was she afloat,
Drawn onward toward the town by flood of tide.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |