The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
Now hoisting sail and labouring with the oar,
They passed along the amber-bearing shore,
A low coast, backed by pine-woods: none the less
Some days they needs must pass in idleness,
And lie-to, 'midst white rolling mist and blind,
Lest Argo on some shallow death should find;
Yet holpen by the steersman's mighty sire,
Safely they sailed until the land rose higher,
And through a narrow strait at last they went,
Brushing the unknown coast, where, with bows bent,
They saw a skin-clad folk awaiting them,
Who stood to watch well-timbered Argo stem
The rushing tide upon the shingly beach,
And thence, as knowing that they could not reach
The heroes with their arrows, shook their spears,
And shouted unknown threats to careless ears.
They passed along the amber-bearing shore,
A low coast, backed by pine-woods: none the less
Some days they needs must pass in idleness,
And lie-to, 'midst white rolling mist and blind,
Lest Argo on some shallow death should find;
Yet holpen by the steersman's mighty sire,
Safely they sailed until the land rose higher,
And through a narrow strait at last they went,
Brushing the unknown coast, where, with bows bent,
They saw a skin-clad folk awaiting them,
Who stood to watch well-timbered Argo stem
The rushing tide upon the shingly beach,
172
The heroes with their arrows, shook their spears,
And shouted unknown threats to careless ears.
But when against the midst of them they came,
Forth strode a huge man, with red hair like flame,
And his huge bow against them strongly drew,
Wherefrom a swift shaft straight to Argo flew,
And whistling over Jason's head, stuck fast
Over the barb-points in the gleaming mast.
Then all men praised that archer; but the man
Who in Arcadian woods all beasts outran,
Straight drew his bow unto the arrow-head,
And no man doubted that wild king was dead:
Natheless, unmoved they saw the archer stand,
And toward the Arcadian arrow stretch his hand,
That midmost of his skin-clad body smote,
But bounded back as from an iron coat.
Then loud his people shouted, and all drew
Their feeble bows, but short their arrows flew,
And through the straits the wondering Minyæ
Passed out unscathed into the open sea,
While still of wizardry and charms they spoke.
Forth strode a huge man, with red hair like flame,
And his huge bow against them strongly drew,
Wherefrom a swift shaft straight to Argo flew,
And whistling over Jason's head, stuck fast
Over the barb-points in the gleaming mast.
Then all men praised that archer; but the man
Who in Arcadian woods all beasts outran,
Straight drew his bow unto the arrow-head,
And no man doubted that wild king was dead:
Natheless, unmoved they saw the archer stand,
And toward the Arcadian arrow stretch his hand,
That midmost of his skin-clad body smote,
But bounded back as from an iron coat.
Then loud his people shouted, and all drew
Their feeble bows, but short their arrows flew,
And through the straits the wondering Minyæ
Passed out unscathed into the open sea,
While still of wizardry and charms they spoke.
But Jason from the mast the arrow broke,
That erewhile had so scantly missed his life,
And found it scored as by a sharp-edged knife,
From barb to notch, with what seemed written words,
In tongue unknown to aught but beasts and birds.
So when Medea saw it, straight she said:
That erewhile had so scantly missed his life,
And found it scored as by a sharp-edged knife,
From barb to notch, with what seemed written words,
In tongue unknown to aught but beasts and birds.
So when Medea saw it, straight she said:
“Fair love, now praise some God thou art not dead,
For from the Cimbrian folk this arrow came,
And its sharp barbs within a wizard's flame
Were forged with peril, and the shaft of it
Was carved by one who in great fear did sit
Within the haunted places of the wood,
And tears are on its feathers, and red blood:
Nor ask me now the name of her who taught
This wisdom to me: but two arrows brought
From this same folk to Æa have I seen,
By one whose wounds will evermore be green
While on the earth he dwells.” So spoke the maid,
But Jason, wondering at the words she said,
Gazed on her fair face, smiling lovingly,
Nor cared to think that he must one day die.
For from the Cimbrian folk this arrow came,
And its sharp barbs within a wizard's flame
Were forged with peril, and the shaft of it
Was carved by one who in great fear did sit
Within the haunted places of the wood,
And tears are on its feathers, and red blood:
Nor ask me now the name of her who taught
This wisdom to me: but two arrows brought
173
By one whose wounds will evermore be green
While on the earth he dwells.” So spoke the maid,
But Jason, wondering at the words she said,
Gazed on her fair face, smiling lovingly,
Nor cared to think that he must one day die.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |