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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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Coldly and falsely was her speech begun,
But she waxed warm ere all the tale was done;

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Nay, something soft was in her voice at last,
As round his soul her net she strove to cast
Almost despite herself.
Unmoved he stood,
But that some thought did cross his weary mood
That made him knit his brow, and therewith came
A flush across his face as if of shame
Because of that new thought; but when an end
Her speech had, then he spake:
“What love or friend
Can do me good? God-hated shall I be,
And bring to no man aught but misery;
And thou, O royal man, and thou, O Queen,
Who heretofore in bliss and mirth have been,
Hearken my words, and on your heads be all
The trouble that from me shall surely fall
If I abide with you: yet doubt it not
That this your love shall never be forgot
Wherewith ye strive to win a helpless man,
And ever will I labour as I can
To make my ill forebodings come to nought.”