The Collected Works of William Morris :: :: University of Virginia Library

In a great hollow of the mountain slopes,
Where toward the south the woodland country droops,
This hog-backed spur of Ira lies, that falls
On every side save toward the mountain walls,
Whereto a ridge there runneth; thick thereon
The unsown pine-woods stand, and scarce had shone
The sun upon the soil there, till the sound
Of the shrill pipe pierced the dim dusk around
This morn, and midst its eager melody
Broad axe and glittering bill were swung on high.

A little way as you go lower down
With oak-woods are the hillsides overgrown,
And then begins the tillage; fair enow
Among the orchards doth the barley grow
Now yellowing for the scythe; on terraces
The vine is trellised, and grey olive-trees
Spread cloudlike o'er the slopes—A noble land,
A happy place, if still man's grasping hand
Itched not for more and more, and e'en when full
Of rest and life, found not the days grow dull
Without he make some story for the folk,

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Who, his days past, are writhing 'neath the yoke
Of sorrows that they may not understand.
Ah, a good place, a fair and hopeful land
For these new-comers!—fast now falls the axe,
No blast of horn the swine-filled forest lacks,
And Aristomenes rides far and wide,
And gathers up from all the country side
Both men and goods; and from Arcadia come
Wild men and runaways to make their home
On Ira; but the Arcadian commonwealth
Will make nor meddle yet, although by stealth
Some great men send them arms and such-like gear.
Nor camplike dwelt these long, for you may hear
The hammers and the saws at work day-long,
And sill and strut and upright rising strong
E'en in the places where as trees they grew
A while agone. And still, though the year drew
Round unto autumn and the fields were shorn,
Unto the place no tidings were there borne
Of Sparta stirring; yea though twice or thrice
In the Laconian fields did flame arise
From homesteads plundered. And yet no less grave
Or watchful were the leaders. “We shall have
The heavier storm,” quoth Damis, “when it breaks,
For these folk play for nought but heavy stakes,
And care not for a plundered farm or twain
To risk an army beaten home again!”

So it befell on a fair autumn day,
While yet in hollows of the mountains lay
The white mist, and the apple fell adown
Through the still air, amidmost their new town
Folk gathered round about the fane new wrought,
And unto Jove the best they might do brought,
Fruit, flowers and worthy beasts; but midst of these,
By Damis led and Aristomenes,
There came a company of maidens fair

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Fresh-clad and flower-crowned, who aloft did bear
Shut in a brazen ark the holy things.
Few men were there who then felt less than kings,
As pressing after these, whom hope did move
Amid the flutter of their hearts to love
E'en though they knew it not, through the wide door
They went into their temple rude and poor,
And twixt bright heads and well wrought shoulders saw
The old man's quivering eager thin hands draw
From out the ark Jove's image silver-wrought,
Black with the damp of years but harmed in nought,
And other twain of Helen's brothers bright,
And thin gold plates figured with words of might
Few men could read now; and the empty car
Of the Mighty Mother wrought with gem and star:
Yea their hearts swelled, for these they knew indeed
Had heard the crying of their fathers' need
While yet Ithome stood.

Back now a space
The maidens fell, and their young leader's face
Bright and yet solemn they beheld now turn
To where the new-lit altar flame did burn;
Clad still he was in his rough peasant gear,
Yet a world's weal his shoulders seemed to bear,
So noble was he, as he cried:

“O Jove,
If anywise a mortal man may move
Thy heart that rules all, grant to us who bring
These holy things here, that so longed-for thing
They erst heard prayed for, victory and good peace
For this their land: new weal and fresh increase,
This second thing some folk of Thee might pray,
And yet not I, because I know today,
It shall not fail us at the worst to die
Unshamed and striving still for victory:
Hearken the third thing then, and grant that soon
I and all these may learn with what a tune

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The Spartan spears clash on the Spartan shields,
When their King's tents rise fair above the fields!”

Loudly the people shouted as he spake,
And through the press therewith the priests did break,
Leading the gilt-horned milk-white wreathed bull;
But ere the echo of that shout grew dull,
Ere the priest's axe fell, came another sound
Of horse-hoofs beating on the stony ground.
Then on all men, and wherefore they knew not,
Great awe and silence fell; and they forgot
Their very lives and what they came to do,
As the press fell asunder, and there drew
Up to the altar two men great of growth,
Fair with the fairness of the prime of youth,
Bright-haired, gold-clad, and wonderful, alike
As coins just minted one same die doth strike,
Who in one voice sent forth a mighty cry,
Awful but sweet with untold melody:

“What do ye here, Messenians, when your foes
Are treading down fair meadows and green close
About Andania, laughing as they tell
The woes that to their slaves of old befell,
Portioning out your women to the great
Of their great men? Be swift, and they shall wait
Your coming, for a lost and feeble folk
They deem you, waiting tamely for the stroke!
Be swift, for surely on this autumn night
The waxing moon shall give enow of light
To guide your feet 'twixt dying men and dead!”

Some were there who heard not the words they said
Amidst their awe, but said the thunder crashed
Through the soft cloudless sky, and weapons clashed
A long way off; but Aristomenes
Stood with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, facing these

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As one who hearkens, till they turned them round
And down the street again the hoofs did sound.
Then he cried out:

“Heard ye their promise then,
Shall not this evening make us more than men?
Fair hope, sweet life! whatever comes henceforth
Surely our lives shall seem now something worth.
Out, out and arm! Let us be swiftly gone,
For they do well on whom these twain have shone,
The Dioscuri—O fellows, arm and out!”

All folk gave answer with a joyous shout
As their hearts came again, and, all being done
That they must needs do to the Highest One,
Men cast away their garlands and soft gear
And from their loves' hands took the shield and spear,
And soon with few words and in fair array
Were wending down the leaf-strewn woodland way,
A little band indeed, but well knit, strong
In hardy hearts and memories of all wrong.