The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
But as for Jason: Creon now being slain,
And Corinth kingless, every man was fain,
Remembering Jason's wisdom and sharp sword,
To have the hero for their king and lord.
So on his weary brows they set the crown,
And he began to rule that noble town.
And 'midst all things, somewhat his misery
Was dulled unto him, as the days went by,
And he began again to cast his eyes
On lovely things, and hope began to rise
Once more within his heart.
And Corinth kingless, every man was fain,
Remembering Jason's wisdom and sharp sword,
To have the hero for their king and lord.
So on his weary brows they set the crown,
And he began to rule that noble town.
And 'midst all things, somewhat his misery
Was dulled unto him, as the days went by,
And he began again to cast his eyes
On lovely things, and hope began to rise
Once more within his heart.
But on a day
From out the goodly town he took his way,
To where, beneath the cliffs of Cenchreæ,
Lay Argo, looking o'er the ridgy sea,
Being fain once more to ponder o'er past days,
Ere he should set his face to winning praise
Among the shouts of men and clash of steel.
From out the goodly town he took his way,
To where, beneath the cliffs of Cenchreæ,
Lay Argo, looking o'er the ridgy sea,
Being fain once more to ponder o'er past days,
Ere he should set his face to winning praise
Among the shouts of men and clash of steel.
But when he reached the well-remembered keel,
The sun was far upon his downward way,
At afternoon of a bright summer day.
Hot was it, and still o'er the long rank grass,
Beneath the hull, a widening shade did pass;
And further off, the sunny daisied sward,
The raised oars with their creeping shadows barred;
And grey shades from the hills of Cenchreæ
Began to move on toward the heaving sea.
The sun was far upon his downward way,
At afternoon of a bright summer day.
Hot was it, and still o'er the long rank grass,
Beneath the hull, a widening shade did pass;
And further off, the sunny daisied sward,
The raised oars with their creeping shadows barred;
And grey shades from the hills of Cenchreæ
Began to move on toward the heaving sea.
So Jason, lying in the shadow dark
Cast by the stem, the warble of the lark,
The chirrup of the cricket, well could hear;
And now and then the sound would come anear
Of peasants shouting o'er the laden wain.
But looking o'er the blue and heaving plain,
Sailless it was, and beaten by no oar,
And on the yellow edges of the shore
The ripple fell in murmur soft and low,
As with wide-sweeping wings the gulls did go
About the breakers crying plaintively.
293
The chirrup of the cricket, well could hear;
And now and then the sound would come anear
Of peasants shouting o'er the laden wain.
But looking o'er the blue and heaving plain,
Sailless it was, and beaten by no oar,
And on the yellow edges of the shore
The ripple fell in murmur soft and low,
As with wide-sweeping wings the gulls did go
About the breakers crying plaintively.
But Jason, looking out across the sea,
Beheld the signs of wind a-drawing nigh,
Gathering about the clear cold eastern sky,
And many an evening then he thought upon
Ere yet the quays of Æa they had won,
And yearnings that had long been gathering
Stirred in his heart, and now he felt the sting
Of life within him, and at last he said:
“Why should I move about as move the dead,
And take no heed of what all men desire?
Once more I feel within my heart the fire
That drave me forth unto the white-walled town,
Leaving the sunny slopes and thick-leaved crown
Of grey old Pelion, that alone I knew,
Great deeds and wild, and desperate things to do.
Beheld the signs of wind a-drawing nigh,
Gathering about the clear cold eastern sky,
And many an evening then he thought upon
Ere yet the quays of Æa they had won,
And yearnings that had long been gathering
Stirred in his heart, and now he felt the sting
Of life within him, and at last he said:
“Why should I move about as move the dead,
And take no heed of what all men desire?
Once more I feel within my heart the fire
That drave me forth unto the white-walled town,
Leaving the sunny slopes and thick-leaved crown
Of grey old Pelion, that alone I knew,
Great deeds and wild, and desperate things to do.
“Ah! the strange life of happiness and woe
That I have led, since my young feet did go
From that grey, peaceful, much-beloved abode,
But now, indeed, will I cast off the load
Of memory of vain hopes that came to nought,
Of rapturous joys with biting sorrows bought.
The past is past, though I cannot forget
Those days, with long life laid before me yet.
That I have led, since my young feet did go
From that grey, peaceful, much-beloved abode,
But now, indeed, will I cast off the load
Of memory of vain hopes that came to nought,
Of rapturous joys with biting sorrows bought.
The past is past, though I cannot forget
Those days, with long life laid before me yet.
“Ah, but one moment, ere I turn the page,
And leave regret to white hairs and to age.
And leave regret to white hairs and to age.
“Once did I win a noble victory,
I won a kingdom, and I cast it by
For rest and peace, and rest and peace are gone.
I had a fair love, that loved me alone,
And made me that I am in all men's eyes;
And like my hard-earned kingdom, my fair prize,
I cast my tender heart, my Love away;
Yet failed I not to love, until a day,
A day I nigh forget, took all from me
That once I had.—And she is gone, yea, she
Whose innocent sweet eyes and tender hands
Made me a mocking unto distant lands:
Alas, poor child! yet is that as a dream,
And still my life a happy life I deem,
But ah! so short, so short! for I am left
Of love, of honour, and of joy bereft—
And yet not dead—ah, if I could but see
But once again her who delivered me
From death and many troubles, then no more
Would I turn backward from the shadowy shore,
And all my life would seem but perfect gain.
I won a kingdom, and I cast it by
For rest and peace, and rest and peace are gone.
294
And made me that I am in all men's eyes;
And like my hard-earned kingdom, my fair prize,
I cast my tender heart, my Love away;
Yet failed I not to love, until a day,
A day I nigh forget, took all from me
That once I had.—And she is gone, yea, she
Whose innocent sweet eyes and tender hands
Made me a mocking unto distant lands:
Alas, poor child! yet is that as a dream,
And still my life a happy life I deem,
But ah! so short, so short! for I am left
Of love, of honour, and of joy bereft—
And yet not dead—ah, if I could but see
But once again her who delivered me
From death and many troubles, then no more
Would I turn backward from the shadowy shore,
And all my life would seem but perfect gain.
“Alas! what hope is this? is it in vain
I long to see her? Lo, am I not young?
In many a song my past deeds have been sung,
And these my hands that guided Argo through
The blue Symplegades, still deeds may do,
For now the world has swerved from truth and right,
Cumbered with monsters, empty of delight;
And 'midst all this, what honour I may win,
That she may know of and rejoice therein,
And come to seek me, and upon my throne
May find me sitting worshipped and alone?
Ah! if it should be, how should I rejoice
To hear once more that once belovèd voice
Rise through the burden of dull words well known:
How should I clasp again my love, mine own,
And set the crown upon her golden head,
And with the eyes of lovers newly wed,
How should we gaze each upon each again.
I long to see her? Lo, am I not young?
In many a song my past deeds have been sung,
And these my hands that guided Argo through
The blue Symplegades, still deeds may do,
For now the world has swerved from truth and right,
Cumbered with monsters, empty of delight;
And 'midst all this, what honour I may win,
That she may know of and rejoice therein,
And come to seek me, and upon my throne
May find me sitting worshipped and alone?
Ah! if it should be, how should I rejoice
To hear once more that once belovèd voice
Rise through the burden of dull words well known:
How should I clasp again my love, mine own,
And set the crown upon her golden head,
And with the eyes of lovers newly wed,
How should we gaze each upon each again.
“O hope not vain! O surely not quite vain!
For, with the next returning light will I
Cast off my moody sorrow utterly,
And once more live my life as in times past,
And 'mid the chance of war the die will cast.
For, with the next returning light will I
295
And once more live my life as in times past,
And 'mid the chance of war the die will cast.
“And surely, whatso great deeds have been done,
Since with my fellows the Gold Fleece I won,
Still here some wild bull clears the frightened fields;
There a great lion cleaves the sevenfold shields;
There dwells some giant robber of the land;
There whirls some woman-slayer's red right hand.
Yea, what is this they speak of even now,
That Theseus, having brought his conquering prow
From lying Crete unto the fair-walled town,
Now gathers folk, since there are coming down
The shielded women of the Asian plain,
Myriads past counting, in the hope to gain
The mastery of this lovely land of Greece?
So be it, surely shall I snatch fair peace
From out the hand of war, and calm delight
From the tumultuous horror of the fight.”
Since with my fellows the Gold Fleece I won,
Still here some wild bull clears the frightened fields;
There a great lion cleaves the sevenfold shields;
There dwells some giant robber of the land;
There whirls some woman-slayer's red right hand.
Yea, what is this they speak of even now,
That Theseus, having brought his conquering prow
From lying Crete unto the fair-walled town,
Now gathers folk, since there are coming down
The shielded women of the Asian plain,
Myriads past counting, in the hope to gain
The mastery of this lovely land of Greece?
So be it, surely shall I snatch fair peace
From out the hand of war, and calm delight
From the tumultuous horror of the fight.”
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |