The Collected Works of William Morris :: :: University of Virginia Library

Then voiceless from the torchlight did they go
Into the darkness, and she, left alone,
Set by the torches till the deed was done
Within the pillars, and turned back again
With eager eyes to gaze across the main,
But nothing she beheld by that starlight
But on the beach the line of breakers white,
And here and there, above the unlit grey,
Some white-topped billow dotting the dark bay.

Then, sighing, did she turn herself around
And looked down toward the plot of unused ground,
Whereby they passed into that fateful place,
And gazed thereon with steadfast wary face,
And there the pavement, whitened by the wind,
Betwixt the turf she saw, and nigh it, twined
About a marble image carelessly,
A white wild-rose, and the grey boundary
Of wind-beat stone, through whose unhingèd door
Their stealthy feet had passed a while before.

Nought else she saw for a long dreary hour,
For all things lay asleep in bed or bower,
Or in the little-lighted mountain caves,
Or 'neath the swirling streams and toppling waves.

She trembled then, for in the eastern sky
A change came, telling of the dawning nigh,
And with swift footsteps she began to pace
Betwixt the narrow limits of the place;
But as she turned round toward the close once more
Her eyes beheld the pavement by the door
Hid by some moving mass; then joyfully
She waved her white arms toward the murmuring sea,
And listened trembling, and although the sound
Of breakers that the sandy sea-beach ground
Was loud in the still night, yet could she hear
Sounds like the shuffling steps of those that bear

244

Some heavy thing, and as she gazed, could see
The thin black raiment of the sisters three
Blown out, and falling backward as they bent
Over some burden and right slowly went;
And 'twixt their arms could she behold the gleam
Of gold or gems, or silver-broidered seam,
Till all was hidden by the undercroft.
And then she heard them struggling bear aloft
That dreadful burden, and then went to meet,
With beating heart, their slow ascending feet,
Taking a half-burnt torch within her hand.

There by its light did she behold them stand
Breathless upon the first stone of that fane,
And with no word she beckoned them again
To move on toward the terrace o'er the sea,
And turning, went before them silently.

And so at last the body down they laid
Close by the caldron, and Eradne said:

“O thou, our life and saviour! linger not,
We pray thee now! because our hearts are hot
To see our father look with other eyes
Upon the sea, the green earth, and the skies,
And praise us for this seeming impious deed.”

Medea hearkened not; she saw the weed
Which erst she saw all glittering in the hall,
And that same mantle as a funeral pall
Which she had seen laid over either knee,
The wonder of King Æson's treasury,
Which wise Phœnicians for much fire-wrought gold
And many oxen, years agone had sold
To Æson, when folk called him king and lord.

Then to the head she went, and with no word
The white embroidered linen cloth that lay
Over the dead man's face she drew away,
As though she doubted yet what thing it was,
And saw indeed the face of Pelias.

245

Then o'er her pale cheek a bright flush there came,
And turning, did she set the torches' flame
Unto the dry brands of the well-built pyre,
And standing back, and waving from the fire
The shuddering girls, somewhat thereon she cast,
Like unto incense: then with furious blast
Shot up a smokeless flame into the air,
Quivering and red, nor then did she forbear
To cry aloud, in her old Colchian tongue,
Proud words and passionate, that strangely rung
Within the poor bewildered sisters' ears,
Filling their hearts with vague and horrid fears.

“O love!” she said, “O love! O sweet delight!
Hast thou begun to weep for me this night,
Dost thou stretch out for me thy mighty hands—
The feared of all, the graspers of the lands?
Come then, O love! across the dark seas come,
And triumph as a king in thine own home!
While I, the doer of a happy deed,
Shall sit beside thee in this wretched weed;
That folk may know me by thine eyes alone
Still blessing me for all that I have done.
Come, King, and sit upon thy father's seat,
Come, conquering king, thy conqueror love to meet!”