The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
I. |
II. |
III, IV, V, VI. |
VII. |
III. |
IV. |
VIII. |
IX. |
XI. |
XII. |
VIII. |
XIV. |
XVII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXIII. |
XLIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XXI. |
XXIV. |
The Collected Works of William Morris | ||
But on the morrow's morn the Minyæ
Turned Argo's head once more to Thessaly.
And surely now the steersman knew his way,
As island after island every day
They coasted, with a soft land-wind abeam;
And now at last like to a troubled dream
Seemed all the strange things they had seen erewhile,
Now when they knew the very green sea's smile
Beneath the rising and the setting sun,
And their return they surely now had won
To those familiar things long left behind,
When on their sails hard drave the western wind.
Turned Argo's head once more to Thessaly.
And surely now the steersman knew his way,
As island after island every day
They coasted, with a soft land-wind abeam;
And now at last like to a troubled dream
Seemed all the strange things they had seen erewhile,
Now when they knew the very green sea's smile
Beneath the rising and the setting sun,
And their return they surely now had won
To those familiar things long left behind,
When on their sails hard drave the western wind.
So past Eubœa did they run apace,
And swept with oars the perilous green race
Betwixt Cerinthus and the islands white;
But, when they now had doubled that dread height,
The shields that glittered upon Argo's side
They drew inboard, and made a shift to hide
Her golden eye and gleaming braveries,
And heaped the deck with bales of merchandise,
And on their yards sails patched and brown they bent,
And crawling slowly, with six oars they went,
Till Argo seemed like some Phœnician
Grown old and leaky, on the water wan.
And swept with oars the perilous green race
Betwixt Cerinthus and the islands white;
But, when they now had doubled that dread height,
The shields that glittered upon Argo's side
They drew inboard, and made a shift to hide
Her golden eye and gleaming braveries,
And heaped the deck with bales of merchandise,
And on their yards sails patched and brown they bent,
And crawling slowly, with six oars they went,
Till Argo seemed like some Phœnician
Grown old and leaky, on the water wan.
Now at the entering of their own green bay
There lies an island that men call to-day
Green Cicynethus, low, and covered o'er
With close-set trees, and distant from the shore
But some five furlongs, and a shallow sea
'Twixt main and island ripples languidly,
And on the shore there dwells not any man
For many a mile; so there Erginus ran
Argo disguised, and steering skilfully,
Cast anchor with the island on his lee;
Hid from the straits, and there struck sail and mast;
Then to the island shore the heroes passed,
And with their wide war-axes 'gan to lop
Full many a sapling with green-waving top
And full-leaved boughs of spreading maple-trees,
And covered Argo's seaward side with these.
And then the shipmen did Medea bid
To hold a shallop ready, while she hid
Her lovely body in a rough grey gown
And heavy home-spun mantle coarse and brown,
And round about her a great wallet slung,
And to her neck an uncouth image hung
Of Tauric Artemis, the cruel maid.
There lies an island that men call to-day
Green Cicynethus, low, and covered o'er
With close-set trees, and distant from the shore
But some five furlongs, and a shallow sea
'Twixt main and island ripples languidly,
And on the shore there dwells not any man
For many a mile; so there Erginus ran
215
Cast anchor with the island on his lee;
Hid from the straits, and there struck sail and mast;
Then to the island shore the heroes passed,
And with their wide war-axes 'gan to lop
Full many a sapling with green-waving top
And full-leaved boughs of spreading maple-trees,
And covered Argo's seaward side with these.
And then the shipmen did Medea bid
To hold a shallop ready, while she hid
Her lovely body in a rough grey gown
And heavy home-spun mantle coarse and brown,
And round about her a great wallet slung,
And to her neck an uncouth image hung
Of Tauric Artemis, the cruel maid.
Then, all being ready, to the prince she said:
“O well-beloved, amongst our foes I go
Alone and weak, nor do I surely know
If I shall live or die there; but do thou
Let one watch ever, who from off the prow
Shall look towards white Iolchos o'er the bay,
And watching, wait until the seventh day,
And if no sign thou hast from me by then,
Believe me slain at hands of wicked men,
Or shut in some dark prison at the least,
While o'er my head thy foe holds royal feast.
“O well-beloved, amongst our foes I go
Alone and weak, nor do I surely know
If I shall live or die there; but do thou
Let one watch ever, who from off the prow
Shall look towards white Iolchos o'er the bay,
And watching, wait until the seventh day,
And if no sign thou hast from me by then,
Believe me slain at hands of wicked men,
Or shut in some dark prison at the least,
While o'er my head thy foe holds royal feast.
“Then soothly if it lieth in thine heart
To leave this land untouched, do thou thy part;
Yet do I think thou wilt be man enow
Unto the white-walled town to turn thy prow,
And either die a man or live a king,
Honoured of all, nor lacking anything
But me thy love—whom thou wilt soon forget,
When with thy tears my lone tomb has been wet
A little space;—so be it, do thy will.
And of all good things mayst thou have thy fill
Before thou comest to the shadowy land
Where thou wilt strive once more to touch mine hand,
And have no power e'en to meet these eyes
That for thy love shall see such miseries.”
To leave this land untouched, do thou thy part;
Yet do I think thou wilt be man enow
Unto the white-walled town to turn thy prow,
And either die a man or live a king,
Honoured of all, nor lacking anything
But me thy love—whom thou wilt soon forget,
When with thy tears my lone tomb has been wet
A little space;—so be it, do thy will.
And of all good things mayst thou have thy fill
Before thou comest to the shadowy land
216
And have no power e'en to meet these eyes
That for thy love shall see such miseries.”
She ceased, nigh weeping, but he wept indeed,
Such tears as come to men in utmost need,
When all words fail them, and the world seems gone,
And with their love they fill the earth alone,
Careless of shame, and not remembering death.
Such tears as come to men in utmost need,
When all words fail them, and the world seems gone,
And with their love they fill the earth alone,
Careless of shame, and not remembering death.
But she clung round about him, with her breath
Shortened with sobs, as she began to say:
“Weep not, O love, for surely many a day
May we be merry and forget all ill,
Nor have I yet forgotten all my skill,
And ere the days are gone thou well mayst see
Thy deadly foe brought unto nought by me.
And if indeed the Gods give me the day,
Then shall thy wakeful watch see o'er the bay
Smoke in the day-time, red flame in the night,
Rise o'er Iolchos' well-built walls and white;
Then linger not, but run out every oar,
And hasten toward the many-peopled shore
That is thine own thenceforth, as I am thine.”
Shortened with sobs, as she began to say:
“Weep not, O love, for surely many a day
May we be merry and forget all ill,
Nor have I yet forgotten all my skill,
And ere the days are gone thou well mayst see
Thy deadly foe brought unto nought by me.
And if indeed the Gods give me the day,
Then shall thy wakeful watch see o'er the bay
Smoke in the day-time, red flame in the night,
Rise o'er Iolchos' well-built walls and white;
Then linger not, but run out every oar,
And hasten toward the many-peopled shore
That is thine own thenceforth, as I am thine.”
Therewith from him she turned her face divine,
And reached the shallop over Argo's side,
That o'er the shallows soon began to glide,
Driven by arms of strong Eurydamas;
But when the keel dragged on the rank sea-grass,
She stepped ashore, and back the hero turned
Unto his fellows, who, with hearts that burned
Unto the quays to bring great Argo's stem,
And gain the glory that was waiting them,
Watched ever for the sign across the bay,
Till nigh the dawning of the seventh day.
And reached the shallop over Argo's side,
That o'er the shallows soon began to glide,
Driven by arms of strong Eurydamas;
But when the keel dragged on the rank sea-grass,
She stepped ashore, and back the hero turned
Unto his fellows, who, with hearts that burned
Unto the quays to bring great Argo's stem,
And gain the glory that was waiting them,
Watched ever for the sign across the bay,
Till nigh the dawning of the seventh day.
The Collected Works of William Morris | ||