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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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A ship sailing (small)

We came unto another land

With gentle winds in two days more;
But all unlike the fair green strand,
This was a brown and dreadful shore.
Natheless of water were we fain
So sent some twenty fellows tall
To fetch it at whatever pain
And what flesh they might meet withal.
Of flesh indeed we had some store
So cared the less: in half a day
Back came our hunters to the shore,
Two less than they had gone away.
Water they had with them enow,
For flesh two lions dead they bore
Smitten with many a stab and blow,
And somewhere had the fight been sore

115

For many of our folk were torn:
Thus said they, that the land was bad,
Never was land so foul, forlorn
And crossed and evil, dull and sad,
Until a small vale fair and green
Betwixt two rugged hills they found,
As fair a place as man has seen
Where streams and wells did much abound,
Set all about with orange trees
And heavy-hung pomegranates fair;
They shouted, setting eyes on these,
And made haste to be quickly there.
But as they stooped by the full brook
And drank great draughts upon their knees,
Or down from off the fair trees shook
Pomegranates, and great oranges,
Lions set on them, two were slain
At unawares, and many a wound
The others had, but with great pain
They slew two, chased the rest, and bound
The slain beasts upon boughs. This tale
Set all of us afire to go
And see this dangerous and fair vale
And slay the beasts that plagued it so.
We chose a twenty men to stay
And guard the ship, that now lay hid
Under a ness; then went away
All armed; and strange things straight betid.
For as we came just at the head
Of that rough pass that reached the place,
The foremost man stopped short and said,
Turning on us a mazed face,

116

“Hold! hold! for many well-armed men
Be in the valley, by God's blood!”
Softly enough we crawled on then
Unto a rock near where we stood,

Priests, bull, ladies, soldiers (big)

Behind which many a man might hide.

Then through the valley in our sight
Five hundred soldiers straight did ride,
All featly armed in armour bright,
Not loathly black men, by my head,
But white and fair as men might be;
And soon two ways they opened
And then a new thing did we see.
There in the midst of carven stone
An altar, built in ancient wise,
A white bull that did stamp and moan,
And two priests dight for sacrifice;
Behind ten damsels who were clad
More richly than the tongue can say,
Gold crowns upon their heads they had,
Gold copes their kirtles overlay.
So delicate their beauty was
With open mouths we lay and stared;
But with a frown Sir Nicholas
His trenchant shining sword half bared,
Muttering, “Some Moloch's sacrifice!”
But I thought, well with one of these
Could I make me a paradise
Among these flowers and sweet trees.
Natheless their eyes were full of woe,
And heavily they hung the head;
So that I deemed it might be so
Even as Sir Nicholas had said.

117

Now did the priests move presently
And slew the white bull where he stood,
And on the people standing by
Threw up in showers the dark red blood.
Then came the maidens up, and cast
White lilies on the altar stone,
Then to the other side they passed,
Towards us and there stood alone
And seemed half-fainting with some grief
But none said ought; and then there came
An armed man crowned with oaken leaf,
And underneath the bull set flame
When on the altar it was laid,
Then as the flames shot up on high
Outlandish horns and trumpets made
A strange and solemn melody.
And this being done, there came again
The priests to where the maids did stand,
And seemed in words we heard not plain
To give to them some straight command
The meaning whereof soon we knew,
For forthwith all their golden crowns
And gold copes on the ground they threw,
Then set their fair hands to their gowns,
Then on the green grass piteously
The silken garments down did rain,
The soft smocks slipped from breast and thigh
They never now should hide again.
And if for shame and sore trembling
A little while a damsel stayed
The priest cried out at that fair thing
Till mother-naked she was made.

118

So mid their raiment there a space
Naked they stood nor word did say,
Nor of those men asked any grace
Knowing full well the bitter play
That should be played: for thither drew
The priest and with cold sour face
Set them in order two and two
And moved them slowly from that place.
Led by the priests and minstrelsy
To a huge rock they came at last,
Over against where we did lie.
Then to each side the minstrels passed
Adown the vale, and the wind sent
This way and that their golden hair
About their bodies as they went
With fainting feet through flowers fair.
And then came forth four sturdy men
With brazen chains that foot and hand
They did upon the damsels ten;
And when so bound they all did stand
Unto the rock they made them fast.
And when we saw them side by side
Wailing and naked, then at last
Scarce in our place could we abide.
But Nicholas said: “Bide, fair fellows,
And see some further felony
Before we come to handy blows
And die like men if needs must be.
For this I think to be their case,
And with the thought is my soul sick,
That chaining them in this wild place
They leave them to be eaten quick

119

Of those same beasts that fell on you.
Now if things be thus as I say,
Since they are many we are few;
Bide here until they go away,
Which needs they must ere the beasts come—
Small help shall we be being rash!”
Straightway we heard the burr and hum
Of their great horns and cymbals' clash,
That drowned the poor lost maids' wailing.
Then turned the felons hastily,
And got them gone with horns sounding
From out the vale; yet abode we
Behind the rock, lest, to our cost
Some one might turn upon his tracks
To seek some thing he might have lost,
And bring the others on our backs.

Ladies chained to rock, lions coming (big)

But as we waited, with dull roar

We saw steal forth a yellow beast,
And then another, then three more,
Then many flocked toward the feast.
Judge if we griped the sword hilt then
Or of the axe the plated haft,
Or if those few that were bowmen
Drew to the head of the long shaft.
And out we broke with a great shout,
And ran toward the rock with speed;
There did we ring those maids about,
And unto our defence took heed.
And soothly there was a grim fight,
So many were the beasts and fell
That we had liefer men of might
Had been before us; truth to tell

120

Here was no talk of ransoming,
The fallen man to shreds was rent.
There happed full many a grievous thing,
But in the end the beasts were shent,
And all were slain; yet did they tear
Ten of our folk, so stout they fought.
Fain were they of the feast so fair
The felons for their maws had brought.
Then from the rock all tenderly
We loosed those ladies; and full oft
Deliciously our hearts beat high
At touching the round limbs so soft,
The dainty hands and naked feet.
Long was it doing, but at last
An end it had; then as was meet
We brought them all the raiment cast
Down by the altar: and all mazed
They decked themselves in these again,
And in their country tongue they praised,
Or so we deemed, our care and pain.
Then said one, “This is the Greek tongue
That erst at Micklegarth I heard
By the Greek king when I was young,
Yet lacks it something, by my beard.”
Then by our fellow that knew Greek
We bade them have no fear at all,
For we their proper land would seek,
Being masters of a dromond tall.
Thereto they said, that in short space
Their country folk would thither come
To take their crushed bones from that place
And bury them with tears at home;

121

That overland their country lay,
Our dromond was no skill therefore;
But prayed us with them still to stay
And with them leave this cursed shore.
“At home ye shall be kings,” they said,
“When that they know your noble deed
And nothing, by Diana's Head,
Shall be denied that ye may need.”
Then did we ask them whence they came,
And how they were in such a case,
And if their country was of fame,
And if they were of Grecian race.
“Sirs, of the Ladies' Land we be,”
They said, “and such-like are our folk
That ladies there have sovreignty
And men be underneath the yoke.
Now of the race whereof ye speak,
Our country was of noble fame,
Yet know we not this word of ‘Greek’
And have not even heard the name.
Needs must we say our country ‘was,’
For now are we in servage base,
Being but poor conquered folk, alas!
Therefore are we in evil case:
For now this tribute must we pay
Each year unto the Emperor,
Ten maids of us these beasts must slay
In honour of his ancestor
Who was a God called Hercules:
Yea, Sirs, and even now we fear
His wrath not lightly to appease
When of this slaughter he shall hear.”

122

“Have no fear, fair maidens,” we said,
“We do not greatly doubt his might,
And for his God, now is he dead,
And hidden up from all men's sight.
And some of us have fought in France
And some in wild Prussia have been,
And some in Spain have led the dance
And unafraid Greek fire seen.
Yea, and to some isle will we flee,
And there our bodies from him hide,
And live long lives there, if so be
That ours should prove the weaker side.”
Now as we talked together thus
We heard a great horn sound afar,
With a long wail and piteous,
And blown unlike a point of war.
And then we saw where came riding
Folk all in black but armed nobly,
A sad song did their trumpets sing
And ever went they heavily.

Procession of other ladies with banner (big)

Over their heads a great banner,

Wherein was painted royally
Diana, with her snooded hair
And fair legs naked to the knee.
And in the midst a great black bier
All wrought about with cypress trees,
And ever as they drew anear
We saw that they were all ladies.
Now when they saw us, still they stood
Amazed, a while, then spurred forward,
And leaping down amid the blood
Of men and beasts upon the sward,

123

Caught up in arms those maidens fair
Weeping aloud, and kissed them oft
Upon the lips and yellow hair,
Or nestled in their bosoms soft.
Then in a while they turned to us
And, seeing the dead men who lay
All rent and torn, and piteous,
They said, “We thought to take away
Some little bones of poor damsels:
Therefore at home a tomb there is
Well built mid trees and sounding wells,
Unto your dead men we give this.
And unto you that be alive
Will we give whatsoe'er you ask,
And evermore, Sirs, will we strive
To be your handmaidens; no task
Shall be too much for our good will.
Now come with us to our country
For soothly would we gaze our fill
On such men, if no Gods ye be.”
“We have some fair fellows,” we said,
“Left in our ship, these would we bring
And other matters—By God's Head
There have we many a full fair thing
May be to you all strange and new.”
Thus said we, and went all away
Toward the ship, except a few
Who with the ladies there did stay.
There when we met our fellows, we
From out the ship did quickly take
What we could carry easily
And chiefly for the ladies' sake.

124

As for ourselves, we thought that there
Of nothing would there be a lack,
So needed nought but some poor fare
And the good armour on the back.
There did we leave the Rose Garland:
God wot if she were borne away
A fair spoil to some heathen land
Or slowly rotted where she lay!