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

But Jason drew her to him, and he said:
“Nay, by these tender hands and golden head,
That saving things for me have wrought to-night,
I know not what; by this unseen delight
Of thy fair body, may I rather burn,
Nor may the flame die ever, if I turn
Back to my hollow ship, and leave thee here,
Who in one minute art become so dear,
Thy limbs so longed for, that at last I know
Why men have been content to suffer woe
Past telling, if the Gods but granted this,
A little while such lips as thine to kiss,
A little while to drink thy longing kind.

“Ah, wilt thou go? The Day is yet but blind
Amid blind sleepers: long it is meseems
That twilight lingers over fading dreams
'Twixt dawn and day.”

“O prince,” she said, “I came
To save your life. I cast off fear and shame
A little while, but fear and shame are here.
The hand thou holdest trembles with my fear,
With shame my cheeks are burning, and the sound
Of mine own voice: but ere this hour comes round,
We twain will be betwixt the dashing oars,
The ship still making for the Grecian shores.
Farewell till then, though in the lists to-day
Thyself shalt see me watching out the play.”

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Therewith she drew off from him, and was gone,
And in the chamber Jason left alone,
Praising the heavenly one, the Queen of Jove,
Pondered upon this unasked gift of love,
And all the changing wonder of his life.

But soon he rose to fit him for the strife,
And ere the sun his orb began to lift
O'er the dark hills, with fair Medea's gift
He chafed his body and his weed of war,
And round his neck he hung the spell that bore
Death to the earth-born, the fair crystal ball.
Ready and eager then from wall to wall,
Athwart and endlong clashing did he stride,
Waiting the king's men and the fateful tide.

Meanwhile, Medea coming to her room
Unseen, lit up the slowly parting gloom
With scented torches: then bound up her hair,
And stripped the dark gown from her body fair,
And laid it with the brass bowl in a chest,
Where many a day it had been wont to rest,
Brazen and bound with iron, and whose key
No eye but hers had ever happed to see.

Then wearied, on her bed she cast her down,
And strove to think; but soon the uneasy frown
Faded from off her brow, her lips closed tight
But now, just parted, and her fingers white
Slackened their hold upon the coverlet,
And o'er her face faint smiles began to flit,
As o'er the summer pool the faint soft air:
So instant and so kind the God was there.