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, she being gone, fair-limbed Amphinome
Said: “Reverend mother, welcome here ye be.
And in return for thy so hard-earned lore
That thou wilt teach us, surely never-more
Shalt thou do labour whilst thou dwellest here,
But unto us shalt thou be lief and dear
As though thou wert the best of all our blood.”
Said: “Reverend mother, welcome here ye be.
And in return for thy so hard-earned lore
That thou wilt teach us, surely never-more
Shalt thou do labour whilst thou dwellest here,
But unto us shalt thou be lief and dear
As though thou wert the best of all our blood.”
But, pondering awhile, Medea stood,
Then answered: “Lady, I am now grown old,
And but small gift to me were heaps of gold,
Or rest itself, for that the tomb shall give;
I say all things are nought, unless I live
So long henceforward, that I need not think
When into nothing I at last must sink;
But take me now unto the mighty king
That rules this land, and there by everything
That he holds sacred, let him swear to me
That I shall live in peace and liberty
Till quiet death upon my head is brought;
But this great oath being made, things shall be wrought
By me, that never can be paid with gold;
For I will make that young which has grown old,
And that alive that ye have seen lie dead.”
Then answered: “Lady, I am now grown old,
And but small gift to me were heaps of gold,
Or rest itself, for that the tomb shall give;
I say all things are nought, unless I live
So long henceforward, that I need not think
When into nothing I at last must sink;
But take me now unto the mighty king
That rules this land, and there by everything
That he holds sacred, let him swear to me
That I shall live in peace and liberty
Till quiet death upon my head is brought;
But this great oath being made, things shall be wrought
By me, that never can be paid with gold;
For I will make that young which has grown old,
And that alive that ye have seen lie dead.”
Then much they wondered at the words she said,
And from the loom did fair Alcestis rise,
And tall Amphinome withdrew her eyes
From the fair spinners, and Eradne left
The carding of the fine wool for the weft.
Then said Eradne: “Mother, fear not thou,
Surely our father is good man enow,
And will not harm thee: natheless, he will swear
By whatsoever thing he holdeth dear,
Nor needst thou have a doubt of him at all.
Come, for he sitteth now within the hall.”
With that, she took her shoes from off the ground,
And round her feet the golden strings she bound,
As did her sisters, and fair cloaks they threw
About them, and their royal raiment drew
Through golden girdles, gemmed and richly wrought,
And forth with them the Colchian maid they brought.
But as unto the royal hall they turned,
Within their hearts such hot desire burned
For lengthening out the life they knew so sweet,
That scarce they felt the ground beneath their feet,
And through the marble court long seemed the way.
And from the loom did fair Alcestis rise,
And tall Amphinome withdrew her eyes
From the fair spinners, and Eradne left
The carding of the fine wool for the weft.
Then said Eradne: “Mother, fear not thou,
Surely our father is good man enow,
224
By whatsoever thing he holdeth dear,
Nor needst thou have a doubt of him at all.
Come, for he sitteth now within the hall.”
With that, she took her shoes from off the ground,
And round her feet the golden strings she bound,
As did her sisters, and fair cloaks they threw
About them, and their royal raiment drew
Through golden girdles, gemmed and richly wrought,
And forth with them the Colchian maid they brought.
But as unto the royal hall they turned,
Within their hearts such hot desire burned
For lengthening out the life they knew so sweet,
That scarce they felt the ground beneath their feet,
And through the marble court long seemed the way.
But when they reached the place, glittering and gay
With all the slain man's goods, and saw the king
Wearing his royal crown and mystic ring,
And clad in purple, and his wearied face,
Anxious and cruel, gaze from Æson's place,
A little thing it seemed to slay him there,
As one might slay the lion in his lair
Bestrewn with bones of beast and man and maid.
With all the slain man's goods, and saw the king
Wearing his royal crown and mystic ring,
And clad in purple, and his wearied face,
Anxious and cruel, gaze from Æson's place,
A little thing it seemed to slay him there,
As one might slay the lion in his lair
Bestrewn with bones of beast and man and maid.
Then as he turned to them, Alcestis said:
“O lord and father, here we bring to thee
A wise old woman, come from over sea,
Who 'mid the gloomy, close-set northern trees
Has heard the words of reverend Goddesses
I dare not name aloud; therefore she knows
Why this thing perishes, and that thing grows,
And what to unborn creatures must befall,
And this, the very chiefest thing of all,
To make the old man live his life again,
And all the lapse of years but nought and vain:
But we, when these strange things of her we heard,
Trembled before her, and were sore afeard,
In midst of all our measureless desire
Within thy veins and ours to set new fire,
And with thee live for many a happy day,
Whilst all about us passes soon away.”
“O lord and father, here we bring to thee
A wise old woman, come from over sea,
Who 'mid the gloomy, close-set northern trees
Has heard the words of reverend Goddesses
I dare not name aloud; therefore she knows
Why this thing perishes, and that thing grows,
And what to unborn creatures must befall,
And this, the very chiefest thing of all,
To make the old man live his life again,
And all the lapse of years but nought and vain:
But we, when these strange things of her we heard,
Trembled before her, and were sore afeard,
In midst of all our measureless desire
225
And with thee live for many a happy day,
Whilst all about us passes soon away.”
Now paler grew the king's face as they spake,
And 'mid strange hopes his heart began to quake,
As sighing, he fell on thought of other days
Now long gone by, when he was winning praise;
He thinketh: “If indeed I might not die,
Then would I lay aside all treachery,
And here should all folk live without alarm,
For to no man would I do any harm,
Whatso might hap, but I would bring again
The golden age, free from all fear and pain.”
And 'mid strange hopes his heart began to quake,
As sighing, he fell on thought of other days
Now long gone by, when he was winning praise;
He thinketh: “If indeed I might not die,
Then would I lay aside all treachery,
And here should all folk live without alarm,
For to no man would I do any harm,
Whatso might hap, but I would bring again
The golden age, free from all fear and pain.”
But through his heart there shot a pang of fear,
As to the queen he said: “Why art thou here,
Since thou hast mastered this all-saving art,
Keeping but vagrant life for thine own part
Of what thou boastest with the Gods to share?
Thou, but a dying woman, nowise fair.”
As to the queen he said: “Why art thou here,
Since thou hast mastered this all-saving art,
Keeping but vagrant life for thine own part
Of what thou boastest with the Gods to share?
Thou, but a dying woman, nowise fair.”
“Pelias,” she said, “far from the north I come,
But in Erectheus' city was my home,
Where being alone, upon a luckless day,
By the sea-rovers was I snatched away,
And in their long-ship, with bound, helpless hands,
Was brought to Thrace, and thence to northern lands,
Of one of which I scarcely know the name,
Nor could your tongue the uncouth letters frame.
There had I savage masters, and must learn
With aching back to bend above the quern;
There must I learn how the poor craftsman weaves,
Nor earn his wages; and the barley sheaves
Must bind in August; and across the snow,
Unto the frozen river must I go,
When the white winter lay upon the land,
And therewithal must I dread many a hand,
And writhe beneath the whistle of the whip.
But in Erectheus' city was my home,
Where being alone, upon a luckless day,
By the sea-rovers was I snatched away,
And in their long-ship, with bound, helpless hands,
Was brought to Thrace, and thence to northern lands,
Of one of which I scarcely know the name,
Nor could your tongue the uncouth letters frame.
There had I savage masters, and must learn
With aching back to bend above the quern;
There must I learn how the poor craftsman weaves,
Nor earn his wages; and the barley sheaves
Must bind in August; and across the snow,
Unto the frozen river must I go,
When the white winter lay upon the land,
And therewithal must I dread many a hand,
And writhe beneath the whistle of the whip.
“'Mid toils like these my youth from me did slip,
Uncomforted, through lapse of wretched years,
Till I forgot the use of sobs and tears,
And like a corpse about my labour went,
Grown old before my time, and worn and bent.
And then at last this good to me betid,
That my wise mistress strove to know things hid
From mortal men, and doubted all the rest,
Babblers and young, who in our fox's nest
Dwelt through the hideous changes of the year:
Then me she used to help her, and so dear
I grew, that when upon her tasks she went,
Into all dangerous service was I sent;
And many a time, within the woods alone,
Have I sat watching o'er the heaps of stone
Where dwell the giants dead; and many a time
Have my pale lips uttered the impious rhyme
That calls the dead from their unchanged abode;
Till on my soul there lay a heavy load
Of knowledge, not without reward, for I
No longer went in rags and misery,
But in such bravery as there they had
My toil-worn body now was fairly clad,
And feared by man and maid did I become,
And mistress of my mistress' dreary home.
226
Till I forgot the use of sobs and tears,
And like a corpse about my labour went,
Grown old before my time, and worn and bent.
And then at last this good to me betid,
That my wise mistress strove to know things hid
From mortal men, and doubted all the rest,
Babblers and young, who in our fox's nest
Dwelt through the hideous changes of the year:
Then me she used to help her, and so dear
I grew, that when upon her tasks she went,
Into all dangerous service was I sent;
And many a time, within the woods alone,
Have I sat watching o'er the heaps of stone
Where dwell the giants dead; and many a time
Have my pale lips uttered the impious rhyme
That calls the dead from their unchanged abode;
Till on my soul there lay a heavy load
Of knowledge, not without reward, for I
No longer went in rags and misery,
But in such bravery as there they had
My toil-worn body now was fairly clad,
And feared by man and maid did I become,
And mistress of my mistress' dreary home.
“Moreover, whether that, being dead to fear,
All things I noted, or that somewhat dear
I now was grown to those dread Goddesses,
I know not; yet amidst the haunted trees
More things I learned than my old mistress did,
Yea, some things surely from all folk else hid,
Whose names once spoken would unroof this hall,
And lay Iolchos underneath a pall
Of quick destruction; and when these were learned,
At last my mistress all her wage had earned,
And to the world was dead for evermore.
All things I noted, or that somewhat dear
I now was grown to those dread Goddesses,
I know not; yet amidst the haunted trees
More things I learned than my old mistress did,
Yea, some things surely from all folk else hid,
Whose names once spoken would unroof this hall,
And lay Iolchos underneath a pall
Of quick destruction; and when these were learned,
At last my mistress all her wage had earned,
And to the world was dead for evermore.
“But me indeed the whole house hated sore,
First for my knowledge, next that, sooth to say,
I, when I well had passed my evil day,
And came to rule, spared not my fellows aught;
Whereby this fate upon my head was brought,
That flee I must lest worse should hap to me;
So on my way unto the Grecian sea
With weary heart and manifold distress,
My feet at last thy royal pavement press.
My lips beseech thy help, O mighty King!
Help me, that I myself may do the thing
I most desire, and this great gift may give
To thee and thine, from this time forth to live
In youth and beauty while the world goes by
With all its vain desires and misery.
First for my knowledge, next that, sooth to say,
227
And came to rule, spared not my fellows aught;
Whereby this fate upon my head was brought,
That flee I must lest worse should hap to me;
So on my way unto the Grecian sea
With weary heart and manifold distress,
My feet at last thy royal pavement press.
My lips beseech thy help, O mighty King!
Help me, that I myself may do the thing
I most desire, and this great gift may give
To thee and thine, from this time forth to live
In youth and beauty while the world goes by
With all its vain desires and misery.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |