The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III, IV, V, VI. |
| VII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
 | XIV. |
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| VII. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XXI. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
Night came, but still on by the stars they sailed
Before the wind, till at the dawn it failed,
And faded soon the sunrise hue away,
Leaving the heavens all colourless and grey,
And dull and lightless the decreasing swell
About the watery ways now rose and fell,
And Lynceus, looking back, no more beheld
The galley that so long the chase had held.
Then were all glad, and toiled on at the oar,
When now the drooping sails would help no more.
Before the wind, till at the dawn it failed,
And faded soon the sunrise hue away,
Leaving the heavens all colourless and grey,
And dull and lightless the decreasing swell
About the watery ways now rose and fell,
And Lynceus, looking back, no more beheld
The galley that so long the chase had held.
Then were all glad, and toiled on at the oar,
When now the drooping sails would help no more.
But soon before their way it seemed as though
A curtain hung they needs must journey through,
A low black mist so brooded o'er the sea.
Then did they hold their hands, but presently,
Moving to meet them, did it hide from sight
The dog-vane and the maintop gilded bright,
Yea in heart-chilling waves it so enwound
The seafarers, that each man gazed around
And saw but shadows where his fellows were.
So with the windless swell did Argo fare
Two days with furled sails purposeless and blind,
And bearing heavy hearts; the third, the wind
Sprung up at daybreak, and straight drove away
That hideous mist, that after sunrise lay
A heavy purple bank down in the west.
A curtain hung they needs must journey through,
A low black mist so brooded o'er the sea.
Then did they hold their hands, but presently,
Moving to meet them, did it hide from sight
The dog-vane and the maintop gilded bright,
Yea in heart-chilling waves it so enwound
The seafarers, that each man gazed around
And saw but shadows where his fellows were.
So with the windless swell did Argo fare
Two days with furled sails purposeless and blind,
And bearing heavy hearts; the third, the wind
138
That hideous mist, that after sunrise lay
A heavy purple bank down in the west.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |