The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
“King Prœtus to Jobates, King of men,
Sends goodly greeting.—Dost thou mind thee when
I saved thee from the lions? then I had
One gift from thee which has not made me glad,
Thy daughter; though a Goddess, all men said,
Had scarce been fairer at my board and bed.—
Another thing thou gav'st me then,—an oath
To do my bidding once, if lieve or loath
It were to thee. Now bring all to an end,
And slay the man who bears this—once my friend,
And still too close unto my memory,
That on my skirts his treacherous blood should lie.
Take heed, though, that I say, myself, at whiles,
‘The Gods are full of lies and luring smiles,
And know no faith.’ And this Bellerophon
May be a God; but even such an one
As seemeth kind beyond the wont of men,
Just and far-seeing, brave in those times when
Men's hearts grow sick with fear. Lo, such is he,
And yet a monster! He shall dwell with thee
Life-long, perchance; and once or twice Desire
Shall burn up all these things, as with a fire;
And he shall tread his kindness under foot,
And turn a liar e'en from his heart's root,
And turn a wretched fool. Yea, what say I?
Turn a mere trembling coward, loth to die;
Rather than be all this. So take him, then,
While yet thou deem'st him first of mortal men,
And in forefront of battle let him fall;
Or, lonely, on some foeman's spear-swept wall,
If it may be;—that he may leave behind
A savour, sweet in some men's mouths, nor find
That he has fallen to hell while yet he lives.
Sends goodly greeting.—Dost thou mind thee when
I saved thee from the lions? then I had
One gift from thee which has not made me glad,
Thy daughter; though a Goddess, all men said,
Had scarce been fairer at my board and bed.—
Another thing thou gav'st me then,—an oath
To do my bidding once, if lieve or loath
It were to thee. Now bring all to an end,
And slay the man who bears this—once my friend,
276
That on my skirts his treacherous blood should lie.
Take heed, though, that I say, myself, at whiles,
‘The Gods are full of lies and luring smiles,
And know no faith.’ And this Bellerophon
May be a God; but even such an one
As seemeth kind beyond the wont of men,
Just and far-seeing, brave in those times when
Men's hearts grow sick with fear. Lo, such is he,
And yet a monster! He shall dwell with thee
Life-long, perchance; and once or twice Desire
Shall burn up all these things, as with a fire;
And he shall tread his kindness under foot,
And turn a liar e'en from his heart's root,
And turn a wretched fool. Yea, what say I?
Turn a mere trembling coward, loth to die;
Rather than be all this. So take him, then,
While yet thou deem'st him first of mortal men,
And in forefront of battle let him fall;
Or, lonely, on some foeman's spear-swept wall,
If it may be;—that he may leave behind
A savour, sweet in some men's mouths, nor find
That he has fallen to hell while yet he lives.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |