The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III, IV, V, VI. |
 | VII. |
|
|
|
|
|
| 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. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
Now how long in this sleep we lay,
My masters, cannot now be told;
Taking no heed of night or day,
Summer or winter, heat or cold.
My masters, cannot now be told;
Taking no heed of night or day,
Summer or winter, heat or cold.
152
Only I know, with many a dream
My sleep was filled; whereof this one
Will serve to tell of: it did seem
On a ship's deck I sat alone
My sleep was filled; whereof this one
Will serve to tell of: it did seem
On a ship's deck I sat alone
Taking no care of helm or sail
Or sea; but in an ancient book
For some forgotten ancient tale
With straining eyes did ever look:
Or sea; but in an ancient book
For some forgotten ancient tale
With straining eyes did ever look:
At last I found it, and it told
About a knight of Germany,
Who, when he was already old,
By water-thieves upon the sea
About a knight of Germany,
Who, when he was already old,
By water-thieves upon the sea
Was taken, and being made their slave,
Saw lands he never knew before,
Until he chanced himself to save
From out their hands, on a wild shore.
Saw lands he never knew before,
Until he chanced himself to save
From out their hands, on a wild shore.
Whereon—but here the page was torn,
And as in dreams it oft will go,
I seemed to be that knight, forlorn,
Wretched and rent from top to toe.
And as in dreams it oft will go,
I seemed to be that knight, forlorn,
Wretched and rent from top to toe.
Upon my legs fetters I saw,
Rusty and old, and felt my back
With stripes of whips was yet half raw,
And victuals I did wholly lack.
Rusty and old, and felt my back
With stripes of whips was yet half raw,
And victuals I did wholly lack.
I drifted in this evil plight
For many a league, it seemed to me,
Until at last I came in sight
Of a good ship upon the sea.
For many a league, it seemed to me,
Until at last I came in sight
Of a good ship upon the sea.
And when her folk did see me there
They sent a shallop thence with speed,
And brought me to a dromond fair;
And of her crew I took good heed.
They sent a shallop thence with speed,
And brought me to a dromond fair;
And of her crew I took good heed.
153
They were an aged company
And yet were richly dressed withal;
Now knew I all their history,
Though no man spoke to me at all,
And yet were richly dressed withal;
Now knew I all their history,
Though no man spoke to me at all,
As oft in dreams it happeneth;
Namely that these same ancient folk
Were sailing to escape from death,
And had good hope to break his yoke
Namely that these same ancient folk
Were sailing to escape from death,
And had good hope to break his yoke
By bathing in a certain stream
That from a mountain cometh out
In some far land; now did I dream
That when I turned me round about,
That from a mountain cometh out
In some far land; now did I dream
That when I turned me round about,
My ship was sunk down in the sea,
And straightly was I dressed in gold,
The king of all that company,
But white-bearded and very old.
And straightly was I dressed in gold,
The king of all that company,
But white-bearded and very old.
Then did the dromond outward go,
While we, like men remembering tales,
Went ever walking to and fro
And took no heed of masts or sails.
While we, like men remembering tales,
Went ever walking to and fro
And took no heed of masts or sails.
At last we saw a mountain rise
Before us, green a little way
Then brown, then white against the skies,
And straight the dromond turned that way
Before us, green a little way
Then brown, then white against the skies,
And straight the dromond turned that way
And ran upon a sandy beach,
And we with all the speed we might,
Leapt out, the happy stream to reach,
Whereof right soon we came in sight.
And we with all the speed we might,
Leapt out, the happy stream to reach,
Whereof right soon we came in sight.
But when we came unto the bank,
And saw how terrible it was,
Then all our hearts within us sank,
For clearer was it than fine glass,
And saw how terrible it was,
Then all our hearts within us sank,
For clearer was it than fine glass,
154
No wind was there or any weed
And black it was, although the sky
Over our heads was blue indeed
As is the sky of Italy.
And black it was, although the sky
Over our heads was blue indeed
As is the sky of Italy.
And also on the other side
There lay a black and tangled wood
Wherefrom a noise, as if folk cried
In anguish, froze our very blood.
There lay a black and tangled wood
Wherefrom a noise, as if folk cried
In anguish, froze our very blood.
There stood we shivering on the brink,
Old men and women in long line,
Doubtful if this cup they would drink
Would be of endless bliss or pine.
Old men and women in long line,
Doubtful if this cup they would drink
Would be of endless bliss or pine.
But as we waited, doubting thus
And precious time of eld was lost,
One falling, with a piteous
And frightful face, gave up the ghost.
And precious time of eld was lost,
One falling, with a piteous
And frightful face, gave up the ghost.
And one man cried, “My head, my head!”
And staggering fell in the stream
And sank; then did we count us dead
And hard I strove to break the dream.
And staggering fell in the stream
And sank; then did we count us dead
And hard I strove to break the dream.
But goaded by some sudden sting
Into that place we rushed at last
With screams wherewith the hills did ring,
That this our death might soon be past.
Into that place we rushed at last
With screams wherewith the hills did ring,
That this our death might soon be past.
And now behold a fresh marvel;
This water that we dreaded so
We deemed it but the mouth of Hell,
Waist-deep through it we did but go,
This water that we dreaded so
We deemed it but the mouth of Hell,
Waist-deep through it we did but go,
And when unto the bank we came
Our clothes fell from us; then were we
Naked like Adam without shame
And fair and young as folk might be.
Our clothes fell from us; then were we
Naked like Adam without shame
And fair and young as folk might be.
155
And in a sweet green mead we were
With flowers all about growing
And flowers set upon our hair,
And no desire for anything.
With flowers all about growing
And flowers set upon our hair,
And no desire for anything.
And clean forgotten was the life
We led before, and all our friends,
And all our foes, and all the strife
For many unaccomplished ends:
We led before, and all our friends,
And all our foes, and all the strife
For many unaccomplished ends:
Yea for one minute I felt this,
But quickly was I snatched away,
My dream changed from that place of bliss,
And by a city gate I lay,
But quickly was I snatched away,
My dream changed from that place of bliss,
And by a city gate I lay,
Just waked from sleep, and folk went by,
Nor spoke to me good words or bad,
Though in strange guise I there did lie,
For in my armour I was clad,
Nor spoke to me good words or bad,
Though in strange guise I there did lie,
For in my armour I was clad,
And they were all in ancient weed.
Then I arose upon my feet,
And seeing they took no further heed,
I straightway entered the long street:
Then I arose upon my feet,
And seeing they took no further heed,
I straightway entered the long street:
There did much folk go to and fro,
And all in ancient raiment clad;
And young they were, and yet did go
Full heavily, and seemed not glad.
And all in ancient raiment clad;
And young they were, and yet did go
Full heavily, and seemed not glad.
So soon I stopped a man who went
Wrapped with his cloak in a strange way,
His head down toward the pavement bent,
And said I had a thing to say.
Wrapped with his cloak in a strange way,
His head down toward the pavement bent,
And said I had a thing to say.
“Say on,” said he, nor raised his head.
“Fain would I know if folk die here,
For all of you are young,” I said,
“And if of death ye have no fear,
“Fain would I know if folk die here,
For all of you are young,” I said,
“And if of death ye have no fear,
156
How may I come in such-like case?”
He said, “Would God that we could die!
O man, get quickly from this place
Even if you fall dead presently—
He said, “Would God that we could die!
O man, get quickly from this place
Even if you fall dead presently—
If we could die—if we could die!
And get at last a little rest,
Twixt misery and misery!”
Therewith his hand from out his breast
And get at last a little rest,
Twixt misery and misery!”
Therewith his hand from out his breast
He drew, and shewed a mark thereon
In fashion of an ancient seal:
“This is the Heaven we have won,
This is the guerdon of our zeal.”
In fashion of an ancient seal:
“This is the Heaven we have won,
This is the guerdon of our zeal.”
Therewith he filled the air with screams,
And quick I turned to get away
Half dead with fear; but as in dreams
The manner is, there must I stay.
And quick I turned to get away
Half dead with fear; but as in dreams
The manner is, there must I stay.
While those folk, sealed hands raised on high,
Came flocking round me crying out,
“God, let us die! God, let us die!”
At last I sprung forth with a shout
Came flocking round me crying out,
“God, let us die! God, let us die!”
At last I sprung forth with a shout
But straight fell flatlings on my face,
And, as I struggled to arise,
Woke suddenly, in that same place
Watched by the sleepless stony eyes.
And, as I struggled to arise,
Woke suddenly, in that same place
Watched by the sleepless stony eyes.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |