The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III, IV, V, VI. |
| VII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
But Jason, going swiftly with good heart,
Came to the wished-for shrine built all apart
Midmost the temple, that on pillars stood
Of jasper green, and marble red as blood,
All white itself and carven cunningly
With Neptune bringing from the wavy sea
The golden shining ram of Athamas;
And the first door thereof of silver was,
Wrought over with a golden glittering sun
That seemed well-nigh alike the heavenly one.
Such art therein the cunningest of men
Had used; which little Jason heeded then,
But thrusting in the lock the smallest key
Of those he bore, it opened easily;
And then five others, neither wrought of gold,
Nor carved with tales, nor lovely to behold,
He opened; but before the last one stayed
His hand, wherein the heavy key he weighed,
And pondering, spake a low and muttered word:
Came to the wished-for shrine built all apart
Midmost the temple, that on pillars stood
Of jasper green, and marble red as blood,
All white itself and carven cunningly
With Neptune bringing from the wavy sea
The golden shining ram of Athamas;
And the first door thereof of silver was,
Wrought over with a golden glittering sun
That seemed well-nigh alike the heavenly one.
Such art therein the cunningest of men
Had used; which little Jason heeded then,
130
Of those he bore, it opened easily;
And then five others, neither wrought of gold,
Nor carved with tales, nor lovely to behold,
He opened; but before the last one stayed
His hand, wherein the heavy key he weighed,
And pondering, spake a low and muttered word:
“The prize is reached, which yet I am afeard
To draw unto me; since I know indeed,
That henceforth war and toil shall be my meed.
Too late to fear, it was too late, the hour
I left the grey cliffs and the beechen bower,
So here I take hard life and deathless praise,
Who once was fain of nought but quiet days,
And painless life, not empty of delight;
I, who shall now be quickener of the fight,
Named by a great name—a far babbled name,
The ceaseless seeker after praise and fame.
To draw unto me; since I know indeed,
That henceforth war and toil shall be my meed.
Too late to fear, it was too late, the hour
I left the grey cliffs and the beechen bower,
So here I take hard life and deathless praise,
Who once was fain of nought but quiet days,
And painless life, not empty of delight;
I, who shall now be quickener of the fight,
Named by a great name—a far babbled name,
The ceaseless seeker after praise and fame.
“May all be well, and on the noisy ways
Still may I find some wealth of happy days.”
Still may I find some wealth of happy days.”
Therewith he threw the last door open wide,
Whose hammered iron did the marvel hide,
And shut his dazzled eyes, and stretched his hands
Out toward the sea-born wonder of all lands,
And plunged them deep within the locks of gold,
Grasping the Fleece within his mighty hold.
Whose hammered iron did the marvel hide,
And shut his dazzled eyes, and stretched his hands
Out toward the sea-born wonder of all lands,
And plunged them deep within the locks of gold,
Grasping the Fleece within his mighty hold.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |