The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
I. |
II. |
III, IV, V, VI. |
VII. |
XIV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIV. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXXI. |
XXXVII. |
XL. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
LII. |
LIV. |
LVII. |
LIX. |
LXI. |
LXII. |
LXIII. |
LXVI. |
LXXIV. |
LXXVII. |
LXXXII. |
LXXXVI. |
XC. |
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 | ||
“A while ago we sailed across the sea,
To meet our deaths, if so the thing must be,
And there had died, had not the kind Gods been,
Who sent to us this lovely Colchian queen
To be our helper: many a land we saw
That knoweth neither tongue of man, nor law
Of God or man: oft most things did we lack
That most men have, as still we struggled back
Unto the soft wind and the Grecian sea;
Until this morn our keel triumphantly
Furrowed the green waves of the well-known bay.
There to yon palace did I take my way,
As one who thought to see his father's face;
Yet landing wary of a doubtful place,
(Since times may change, and friend ship come to nought)
To this dead man straightway my feet were brought,
Whose face I knew, the face of Pelias.
To meet our deaths, if so the thing must be,
And there had died, had not the kind Gods been,
Who sent to us this lovely Colchian queen
To be our helper: many a land we saw
That knoweth neither tongue of man, nor law
Of God or man: oft most things did we lack
254
Unto the soft wind and the Grecian sea;
Until this morn our keel triumphantly
Furrowed the green waves of the well-known bay.
There to yon palace did I take my way,
As one who thought to see his father's face;
Yet landing wary of a doubtful place,
(Since times may change, and friend ship come to nought)
To this dead man straightway my feet were brought,
Whose face I knew, the face of Pelias.
“Then still more warily thence did we pass,
Till we met folk who told us everything,
Both of the slaying of the godlike king,
Æson my father, and of other folk,
And how the whole land groaned beneath the yoke
Of this dead man; whom sure the Gods have slain
That all our labour might not be in vain,
Nor we, safe passing through the deadly land,
Lie slain in our own country at his hand.
So have the Gods wrought; therefore am I here,
No shield upon mine arm, no glittering spear
In my right hand, but by my unarmed side
This Colchian queen, by many sorrows tried.
Therefore, no fear of you is in my heart,
And if ye will, henceforth will I depart,
Nor take mine own: or if it please this town
To slay me, let them lay my dead corpse down,
As on his tomb my father's image lies,
Like what he was before these miseries
Fell on his head. But in no wise will I
Take seat beneath this golden canopy,
Before ye tell me, people of this land,
Whose throne this is before the which I stand,
Whose towered house this is mine eyes behold,
Girt round with brazen pillars, bright with gold.”
Till we met folk who told us everything,
Both of the slaying of the godlike king,
Æson my father, and of other folk,
And how the whole land groaned beneath the yoke
Of this dead man; whom sure the Gods have slain
That all our labour might not be in vain,
Nor we, safe passing through the deadly land,
Lie slain in our own country at his hand.
So have the Gods wrought; therefore am I here,
No shield upon mine arm, no glittering spear
In my right hand, but by my unarmed side
This Colchian queen, by many sorrows tried.
Therefore, no fear of you is in my heart,
And if ye will, henceforth will I depart,
Nor take mine own: or if it please this town
To slay me, let them lay my dead corpse down,
As on his tomb my father's image lies,
Like what he was before these miseries
Fell on his head. But in no wise will I
Take seat beneath this golden canopy,
Before ye tell me, people of this land,
Whose throne this is before the which I stand,
Whose towered house this is mine eyes behold,
Girt round with brazen pillars, bright with gold.”
Then, ere he ceased, the people's shouts broke in
Upon his speech: “Most glorious of thy kin!
Be thou our king—be thou our king alone,
That we may think the age of iron gone,
And Saturn come with every peaceful thing:—
Jason for king! the Conqueror for king!”
Upon his speech: “Most glorious of thy kin!
255
That we may think the age of iron gone,
And Saturn come with every peaceful thing:—
Jason for king! the Conqueror for king!”
Therewith the heroes clashed their spears and shields,
And as within the many-flowered fresh fields
This way and that the slim-stalked flowers do bend,
When sweeping gusts the soft west wind doth send
Among their hosts, so moved the people then,
When ceased the shouting of the armèd men.
For each unto the other 'gan to speak,
And o'er the tall men's heads some dame would seek
To raise her child to look upon the king.
And as with smiles and laughter many a thing
They chattered through the great square joyously,
Each careless what his neighbour's words might be,
It sounded like some February mead,
Where thick the lustred starlings creep and feed,
And each his own song sings unto his mate,
Chiding the fickle spring so cold and late.
And as within the many-flowered fresh fields
This way and that the slim-stalked flowers do bend,
When sweeping gusts the soft west wind doth send
Among their hosts, so moved the people then,
When ceased the shouting of the armèd men.
For each unto the other 'gan to speak,
And o'er the tall men's heads some dame would seek
To raise her child to look upon the king.
And as with smiles and laughter many a thing
They chattered through the great square joyously,
Each careless what his neighbour's words might be,
It sounded like some February mead,
Where thick the lustred starlings creep and feed,
And each his own song sings unto his mate,
Chiding the fickle spring so cold and late.
But through the happy clamour of the folk,
At Jason's bidding, the great trumpet broke,
And great Echion's voice rang clear and strong,
As he cried silence; then across the throng,
Did Jason cry: “O people, thanked be ye,
That in such wise ye give yourselves to me.
And now, O friends, what more is there to say
But this? Be glad, and feast this happy day,
Nor spend one coin of all your store for this;
Nor shall the altars of the high Gods miss
Their due thankoffering: and She chief of all,
Who caused that this same happy time should fall,
Shall have a tithe of all that 'longs to me.
At Jason's bidding, the great trumpet broke,
And great Echion's voice rang clear and strong,
As he cried silence; then across the throng,
Did Jason cry: “O people, thanked be ye,
That in such wise ye give yourselves to me.
And now, O friends, what more is there to say
But this? Be glad, and feast this happy day,
Nor spend one coin of all your store for this;
Nor shall the altars of the high Gods miss
Their due thankoffering: and She chief of all,
Who caused that this same happy time should fall,
Shall have a tithe of all that 'longs to me.
“And ye, O loved companions o'er the sea,
Come to my golden house, and let us feast,
Nor let time weary us this night at least;
O! be so glad that this our happy day
For all times past, all times to come may pay.”
Come to my golden house, and let us feast,
Nor let time weary us this night at least;
O! be so glad that this our happy day
256
He ceased, and one more shout the people sent
Up to the heavens, as he descending went
With the fair Colchian through the joyous folk,
From whose well-ordered lane at times there broke
Some little child, thrust forward well to see
The godlike leader of the Minyæ:
Or here and there forth would some young man lean
To gaze upon the beauty of the Queen
A little nearer, as they passed him by.
Up to the heavens, as he descending went
With the fair Colchian through the joyous folk,
From whose well-ordered lane at times there broke
Some little child, thrust forward well to see
The godlike leader of the Minyæ:
Or here and there forth would some young man lean
To gaze upon the beauty of the Queen
A little nearer, as they passed him by.
The Collected Works of William Morris | ||