The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III, IV, V, VI. |
 | VII. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
Meanwhile, the once-loved sharer of his bed
Knew all at last, and fierce tormenting fire
Consumed her as the dreadful day grew nigher,
And much from other lips than his she heard:
Till, on a day, this dreadful, blighting word,
Her eyes beheld within a fair scroll writ,
And 'twixt her closed teeth still she muttered it:
Knew all at last, and fierce tormenting fire
Consumed her as the dreadful day grew nigher,
And much from other lips than his she heard:
Till, on a day, this dreadful, blighting word,
Her eyes beheld within a fair scroll writ,
And 'twixt her closed teeth still she muttered it:
“Depart in peace! and take great heaps of gold,
For nevermore thy body will I fold
Within these arms. Let Gods wed Goddesses
And sea-folk wed the women of the seas,
And men wed women; but thee, who can wed
And dwell with thee without consuming dread,
O wise kin of the dreadful sorceress!
And yet perchance thy beauty still may bless
Some man to whom the world seems small and poor,
And who already stands beside his door,
Armed for the conquest of all earthly things.
For nevermore thy body will I fold
Within these arms. Let Gods wed Goddesses
And sea-folk wed the women of the seas,
And men wed women; but thee, who can wed
And dwell with thee without consuming dread,
O wise kin of the dreadful sorceress!
And yet perchance thy beauty still may bless
Some man to whom the world seems small and poor,
And who already stands beside his door,
Armed for the conquest of all earthly things.
“Lo, such an one, the vanquisher of kings,
And equal to the Gods should be thy mate.
But me, who for a peaceful end but wait,
Desiring nought but love—canst thou love me?
Or can I give my whole heart up to thee?
And equal to the Gods should be thy mate.
But me, who for a peaceful end but wait,
Desiring nought but love—canst thou love me?
Or can I give my whole heart up to thee?
“I hear thee talk of old days thou didst know—
Are they not gone?—wilt thou not let them go,
Nor to their shadows still cling desperately,
Longing for things that never more can be?
Are they not gone?—wilt thou not let them go,
Nor to their shadows still cling desperately,
Longing for things that never more can be?
“What! wilt thou blame me still that the times change?
Once through the oak-wood happy did I range,
And thought no ill; but then came over me
Madness, I know not why, and o'er the sea
I needs must go in strife to win me fame,
And certes won it, and my envied name
Was borne with shouts about the towns of Greece.
280
And thought no ill; but then came over me
Madness, I know not why, and o'er the sea
I needs must go in strife to win me fame,
And certes won it, and my envied name
Was borne with shouts about the towns of Greece.
“All that has vanished now, and my old peace,
Through lapse of changing years, has come to me.
Once more I seem the woodland paths to see,
Tunes of old songs are ringing in mine ears,
Heard long ago in that place free from fears,
Where no one wept above his fellow dead,
And looked at death himself with little dread.
The times are changed, with them is changed my heart,
Nor in my life canst thou have any part,
Nor can I live in joy and peace with thee,
Nor yet, for all thy words, canst thou love me.
Through lapse of changing years, has come to me.
Once more I seem the woodland paths to see,
Tunes of old songs are ringing in mine ears,
Heard long ago in that place free from fears,
Where no one wept above his fellow dead,
And looked at death himself with little dread.
The times are changed, with them is changed my heart,
Nor in my life canst thou have any part,
Nor can I live in joy and peace with thee,
Nor yet, for all thy words, canst thou love me.
“Yet, is the world so narrow for us twain
That all our life henceforth must be but vain?
Nay, thou shalt go, and be a queen henceforth
Of fairer world than mine, of greater worth:
And wheresoe'er thou goest shalt thou fare
As one for whom the Gods have utmost care.”
That all our life henceforth must be but vain?
Nay, thou shalt go, and be a queen henceforth
Of fairer world than mine, of greater worth:
And wheresoe'er thou goest shalt thou fare
As one for whom the Gods have utmost care.”
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |