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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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Whether with music, or the pain
Of moody thought touched to the quick,
I know not, but like summer rain
My tears upon the dust fell thick.
And far away my thoughts were brought
When I was but a boy at play,
Nor yet of life or death had thought,
But only on the coming day,

139

The great hall where the people ate,
The church half-hidden by the hill,
The pier, where in the evening late
The covered ship lay grim and still,
The gold-coped singers in the quire,
My mother's hand upon my head,
The stories round the big yule-fire,
The snow upon the tower-lead,
The rough old vassals, cap in hand
Unto the Master of the House,
The steward with his silver wand,
The squires slim and amorous—
All rose before my swimming eyes
And still that maid sang loud and clear,
Like some lark in her extasies,
That half pierced to my muffled ear.

Young lady singing Crone and Rafe (small)

But from the house came suddenly

An old crone propped with crutches tied
With many a bandage; that with high
And shrill voice did the damsel chide.
Till she arose and entered in:
She and her singing gone away,
My dreams fled as a saint flees sin,
And all the sunlight left the day.
Then on I went distraught, moody,
Doubtful, unhappy in my heart;
Counting the few years left to me
The fair things death would from me part.
In this mood came I to the quay,
Where lay the ships both great and small,
Some just at point to go away,
Some just letting the anchor fall.

140

There did I find Sir Nicholas
Whose wife was dead now for this year;
Moody of countenance he was,
He saw me not as I drew near.
For at a ship he was gazing,
Whose folk were loosening her prow
From the great cable of the ring
That bound her to the shore: but now
Round at my touch he turned to me,
And for awhile along the quay
We walked together silently
Till I found heart at last to say:
“Do you remember the ill dream
You told me in the Rose Garland,
When evil did our voyage seem;
And that you wished a Christian land?
Behold your wish has come to pass
For all this we have christened,
And for our quest, Sir Nicholas,
With right few words it had an end.
Yea on their banners now they bear
The Holy Mother of God's Son
Rayed round with gold, instead of her
That loved of old Endymion.”
He said, “Our souls may now be safe
Where all folk worship the high God:
Yet sometimes do I wish, O Rafe,
That I were underneath the sod,
Thinking of her that had a part
In days that now are overpast—
Ah fool! ever to set my heart
On one who needs must die at last!

141

Yea, I remember that ill dream
And I remember too the first:
Now do all past days good days seem
When we are getting to the worst.”
I said, “Like you do I regret
Overpast time; yet still I think
We might be happy even yet—
Yea, if we were upon the brink
Of death itself: for were we mad
When we left friends, goods and country
One day—such strong belief we had
In that fair place beyond the Sea.
Here is our life of little worth,
These few last years will soon be past;
And I am weary of the earth
With death for our reward at last.
Behold these ships all-boun for sea—
And what shall hinder us to go?
For here we have all sovreignty,
In nothing folk can say us no.”
Then said he, “Rafe, I thought on this
A while ago, in very deed,
When ended was my earthly bliss,
And death seemed coming for our meed.
And even now, I sought this place
That I might think upon the sea,
And of the days when in short space
We thought in Paradise to be.
And now the time is short, I fear,
When we are gotten old and grey,
And this quest might take many a year,
And we may die off any day.

142

Yet at all hazards will I go;
Therefore I pray thee our men find
And whether folk say yea or no,
If there be ten men of our mind,
Will we spend our last years in this.”
Then merry grew my heart again,
For either should we come to bliss
Or at the worst have no more pain
Than death at last. I left him there
And with much trouble and fair words
Prevailed on twenty of our men
Who in that place were mighty lords,
Turn simple mariners again.
Then did we buy a ship with gold
And left that place with little pain;
For some were dead, and all were old
Of our first loves; their blood was chill
And little moaning did they make,
Though certainly none wished us ill
And we were sorry for their sake.

Ships going people of shore (big)

Though at our parting some did weep,

Remembering the green valley,
And how their bodies we did keep
Safe that day from the enemy,
By no constraint or bitter prayer
They held us: as we left the shore
We saw the folk pass here and there,
And all things went on as before.