University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

expand sectionI. 
expand sectionII. 
expand sectionIII, IV, V, VI. 
expand sectionVII. 
expand sectionIX. 
expand sectionX. 
expand sectionXII. 
expand sectionXIV. 
collapse sectionXV. 
expand section 
  
expand sectionIII. 
expand sectionVI. 
expand sectionIX. 
expand sectionXV. 
expand sectionXX. 
expand sectionXXIX. 
expand sectionXXXIV. 
expand sectionXXXVII. 
expand sectionXXXIX. 
collapse sectionXLI. 
  
expand sectionXLIV. 
expand sectionXLV. 
expand sectionXLVIII. 
expand sectionLI. 
expand sectionLV. 
expand sectionLVIII. 
expand sectionXVI. 
expand sectionXVII. 
expand sectionXXI. 
expand sectionXXIV. 

Then swiftly rose up Sigmund from where his fosterling lay,
And a long while searched the thicket, till that three-leaved herb he found,
And he laid it on Sinfiotli, who rose up hale and sound
As ever he was in his life-days. But now in hate they had
That hapless work of the witch-folk, and the skins that their bodies clad.
So they turn their faces homeward and a weary way they go,
Till they come to the hidden river, and the glimmering house they know.