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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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“O evil thing, what brought thee here
To be a wonder and a fear
Unto the river-haunting folk?
Was it the God of Day that broke
The shadow of thy windless trees,
Gleaming from golden palaces,
And shod with light, and armed with light,
Made thy slime stone, and day thy night,
And drove thee forth unwillingly
Within his golden house to lie?
“Or was it the slim messenger,

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Who, treading softly, free from fear,
Beguiled thee with his smiling face
From out thy dim abiding place,
To follow him and set thee down
'Midst of this twice-washed royal town?
“Or was it rather the dread Lord
Who slayeth without spear or sword,
And with the flower-culling maid
Of Enna, dwelleth in the shade,
Who with stern voice compelling thee,
Hath set thee here, our bane to be?
“Or was it Venus, seeking far
A sleepless guard 'gainst grief and war,
Who, journeying through thy dismal land,
Beside the heavy lake did stand,
And with no word, but very sight
Of tender limbs and bosom white,
Drew forth thy scaly feet and hard,
To follow over rock and shard?
“Or rather, thy dull, waveless lake
Didst thou not leave for her dread sake,
Who, passing swift from glade to glade,
The forest-dwellers makes afraid
With shimmering of her silver bow
And dreadful arrows? Even so
I bid thee now to yield to me,
Her maid, who overmastered thee,
The Three-formed dreadful one who reigns
In heaven and the fiery plains,
But on the green earth best of all.
“Lo, now thine upraised crest let fall,
Relax thy limbs, let both thine eyes
Be closed, and bestial fantasies
Fill thy dull head till dawn of day
And we are far upon our way.”