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

“Would God that Argo's brazen-banded mast
'Twixt the blue clashing rocks had never passed
Unto the Colchian land! Or would that I
Had had such happy fortune as to die
Then, when I saw thee standing by the Fleece,
Safe on the long-desired shore of Greece!
Alas, O Jason! for thy cruel praise!
Alas, for all the kindness of past days!
That to thy heart seems but a story told
Which happed to other folk in times of old.
But unto me indeed, its memory
Was bliss in happy hours, and now shall be
Such misery as never tongue can tell.

“Jason, I heed thy cruel message well,
Nor will I stay to vex thee, nor will stay
Until thy slaves thrust me thy love away.
Be happy! think that I have never been—
Forget these eyes, that none the less have seen
Thy hands take life at my hands, and thy heart
O'erflow in tears, when need was we should part
But for a little; though, upon the day
When I for evermore must go away,
I think indeed thou wilt not weep for this;
Yea, if thou weepest then, some honied kiss
From other lips shall make thy grey eyes wet,

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Betwixt the words that bid thee to forget
That even thou hast loved but her alone.

“Yet of all times mayst thou remember one,
The second time that ever thou and I
Had met alone together: mournfully
The soft wind murmured on that happy night,
The round moon, growing low, was large and bright,
As on my father's marble house it gleamed,
While from the fane a baneful light outstreamed,
Lighting the horror of that prodigy,
The only fence betwixt whose wrath and thee
Was this poor body. Ah! thou knowest then
How thou beheldst the shadows of thy men
Steal silently towards Argo's painted head.
Thou knowest yet the whispered words I said
Upon that night—thou never canst forget
That happy night of all nights. Ah! and yet
Why make I these long words, that thou the more
Mayst hate me, who already hat'st me sore,
Since 'midst thy pleasure I am grown a pain.

“Be happy! for thou shalt not hear again
My voice, and with one word this scroll is done:
Jason, I love thee, yea, love thee alone—
God help me, therefore!—and would God that I
Such as thou sayst I am were verily,
Then what a sea of troubles shouldst thou feel
Rise up against thy life! how shouldst thou steel
Thy heart to bear all, failing at the last!
Then wouldst thou raise thine head o'erwhelmed, downcast,
And round about once more shouldst look for me,
Who led thee o'er strange land and unknown sea.

“And not in vain, O dearest! not in vain!
Would I not come and weep at all thy pain,
That I myself had wrought? would I not raise
Thy burdened head with hopes of happy days?
Would I not draw thee forth from all thy woe?
And fearless by thy side would I not go,

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As once I went through many unknown lands,
When I had saved thee from my father's hands?

“All would I do that I have done erewhile,
To have thy love once more, and feel thy smile;
As freed from snow about the first spring days
The meadows feel the young sun's fickle rays.

“But I am weak, and past all, nor will I
Pray any more for kindly memory;
Yet shalt thou have one last gift more from me,
To give thy new love, since men say that she
Is fairer than all things man can behold.

“Within this casket lies in many a fold
Raiment that my forgotten limbs did press,
When thou wert wont to praise their loveliness.
Fear not to take it from the sorceress' hands,
Though certainly with balms from many lands
Is it made fragrant, wondrous with a charm
To guard the wearer's body from all harm.

“Upon the morn that she shall make thee glad,
With this fair tunic let her limbs be clad,
But see that no sun falls upon its folds
Until her hand the king, her father, holds,
To greet thine eyes: then, when in godlike light
She shines, with all her beauty grown so bright,
That eyes of men can scarcely gaze thereon—
Then, when thy new desire at last is won—
Then, wilt thou not a little think of me,
Who saved thy life for this felicity?”