The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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| III. | CHAPTER III. THEY TALK OF DIVERS MATTERS IN THE HALL.
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 | CHAPTER III. THEY TALK OF DIVERS MATTERS IN THE HALL.
The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
22
CHAPTER III. THEY TALK OF DIVERS MATTERS IN THE HALL.
[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]
THE MINSTREL SAITH
O why on this morning, ye maids, are ye tripping
Aloof from the meadows yet fresh with the dew,
Where under the west wind the river is lipping
The fragrance of mint, the white blooms and the blue?
Aloof from the meadows yet fresh with the dew,
Where under the west wind the river is lipping
The fragrance of mint, the white blooms and the blue?
For rough is the Portway where panting ye wander;
On your feet and your gown-hems the dust lieth dun;
Come trip through the grass and the meadow-sweet yonder,
And forget neath the willows the sword of the sun.
On your feet and your gown-hems the dust lieth dun;
Come trip through the grass and the meadow-sweet yonder,
And forget neath the willows the sword of the sun.
23
THE MAIDENS ANSWER
Though fair are the moon-daisies down by the river,
And soft is the grass and the white clover sweet;
Though twixt us and the rock-wall the hot glare doth quiver,
And the dust of the wheel-way is dun on our feet;
And soft is the grass and the white clover sweet;
Though twixt us and the rock-wall the hot glare doth quiver,
And the dust of the wheel-way is dun on our feet;
Yet here on the way shall we walk on this morning
Though the sun burneth here, and sweet, cool is the mead;
For here when in old days the Burg gave its warning,
Stood stark under weapons the doughty of deed.
Though the sun burneth here, and sweet, cool is the mead;
For here when in old days the Burg gave its warning,
Stood stark under weapons the doughty of deed.
Here came on the aliens their proud words a-crying,
And here on our threshold they stumbled and fell;
Here silent at even the steel-clad were lying,
And here were our mothers the story to tell.
And here on our threshold they stumbled and fell;
Here silent at even the steel-clad were lying,
And here were our mothers the story to tell.
Here then on the morn of the eve of the wedding
We pray to the Mighty that we too may bear
Such war-walls for warding of orchard and steading,
That the new days be merry as old days were dear.
We pray to the Mighty that we too may bear
Such war-walls for warding of orchard and steading,
That the new days be merry as old days were dear.
| CHAPTER III. THEY TALK OF DIVERS MATTERS IN THE HALL.
The Collected Works of William Morris | |