The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
 | I. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| III, IV, V, VI. |
|
|
|
|
| I. |
|
|
| II. |
|
|
|
|
| III. |
|
|
|
|
| IV. |
|
|
|
| VII. |
|
|
|
|
| III. |
| IV. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
|
| 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. |
|
|
| I. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| XI. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
|
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XIV. |
|
| V. |
|
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XVII. |
| XXX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
|
| IV. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XII. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| XIV. |
|
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| XI. |
| XIII. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXII. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
|
| VII. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XXI. |
| XV. |
|
| III. |
| VI. |
| IX. |
| XV. |
| XX. |
| XXIX. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XLI. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVIII. |
| LI. |
| LV. |
| LVIII. |
| XVI. |
|
| II. |
| VIII. |
| XVII. |
|
| XXI. |
|
|
| III. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| X. |
| XVII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
|
|
|
| XXIV. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
Then Michael stayed his carol glad,
And noting little in his mirth
The other's voice, unto the girth
Without a word straight set his hand:
But as with bent head he did stand,
Straining to tighten what was tight,
In Samuel's hand the steel flashed bright,
And fell, deep smitten in his side;
Then, leaping back, the poor lad cried
As if for help, and staggering fell,
With wide eyes fixed on Samuel;
Who none the less grown deadly pale,
Lit down, lest that should not avail
To slay him, and beside him knelt,
And since his eyes were closed now, felt
His heart that beat yet: therewithal
His hand upon the knife did fall.
But, ere his fingers clutched it well,
Far off he seemed to hear a bell,
And trembling knelt upright again,
And listening, listened not in vain,
For clear he heard a tinkling sound.
Then to his horse from off the ground
He leapt, nor reasoned with his dread
But thought the angel of the dead
Was drawing nigh the slayer to slay,
Ere scarce the soul had passed away.
One dreadful moment yet he heard
That bell, then like a madman spurred
His noble horse; that, maddened too,
The close-set fir-wood galloped through,
Not stayed by any stock or stone,
Until, the furious race being done,
Anigh the bridge he fell down dead;
And Samuel, mazed with guilt and dread,
Wandered afoot throughout the night,
But came, at dawning of the light,
Half-dead unto the palace gate.
And noting little in his mirth
136
Without a word straight set his hand:
But as with bent head he did stand,
Straining to tighten what was tight,
In Samuel's hand the steel flashed bright,
And fell, deep smitten in his side;
Then, leaping back, the poor lad cried
As if for help, and staggering fell,
With wide eyes fixed on Samuel;
Who none the less grown deadly pale,
Lit down, lest that should not avail
To slay him, and beside him knelt,
And since his eyes were closed now, felt
His heart that beat yet: therewithal
His hand upon the knife did fall.
But, ere his fingers clutched it well,
Far off he seemed to hear a bell,
And trembling knelt upright again,
And listening, listened not in vain,
For clear he heard a tinkling sound.
Then to his horse from off the ground
He leapt, nor reasoned with his dread
But thought the angel of the dead
Was drawing nigh the slayer to slay,
Ere scarce the soul had passed away.
One dreadful moment yet he heard
That bell, then like a madman spurred
His noble horse; that, maddened too,
The close-set fir-wood galloped through,
Not stayed by any stock or stone,
Until, the furious race being done,
Anigh the bridge he fell down dead;
And Samuel, mazed with guilt and dread,
Wandered afoot throughout the night,
But came, at dawning of the light,
Half-dead unto the palace gate.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |