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

No long tale of that fight there is to tell;
Through byways led most secretly and well
Upon the Spartan camp unwares they came
Just as the sun set, and a night of shame
Was that for Sparta: scarcely here and there
A few brave men had heart to raise a spear
'Gainst their old slaves, the dregs of the Great War.
Adown the valley fled they fast and far
Long after all pursuit of them was stayed:
Short of Laconia might they have no aid,
For Stenyclerus shut her gates, when they
A drifting rout drew thither in the grey
Of the autumn dawn; and ere their rearward passed

196

They heard upon the haze the old cry cast
From her high towers, and saw the just-risen sun
Light the old banners from the temples won.
So on they slunk, to have rude greeting when
They met the women and the ancient men
Of that proud Sparta.

Aristomenes
Abode that night among the cut-down trees
And trampled fields wherein the gained camp lay,
But sent a messenger at break of day
To make all Ira joyful, and withal
Led his few folk within Andania's wall,
Not knowing that the rout was all so great:
But ere the sun had come to his full heat
True tidings had he, and from many a place
Poured in the folk, flushed and in joyous case,
To tell him of the freeing of the land,
And praying for some weapon to their hand.
Amidst the Council-hall he sat, and heard
Their wild joy, and within his heart there stirred
Strange pity for the blind delight of men,
And he bethought him of the old days, when
E'en such-like hope, such joy in war, filled hearts
That long ago played to an end their parts,
Nor ere the last rest failed to know despair.
Yet since the present day was e'en so fair
He was glad too, nor trembled at his gain
E'en as he feared no whit the utmost pain
His life might chance to bring.

Now soon was come
Glad message back from Ira, that the home
Of the old valour of their folk, the hill
Of dear Ithome, would be better still
As meeting-place for folk made free and glad
Than any stead the fair land had;
And men from Stenyclerus came to say
The selfsame words; whereon he sent that day

197

Wide through the land, and bade come thereinto
Whoso might deem that he had aught to do
With ruling of the land, upon a tide
He and his named. Nor did he bide
Long idle at Andania: the next morn
He rose up ere the dark was quite outworn,
And bearing with him those fair arms that he
Won in Laconia, went full silently
Unto a shrine of Mars upon the wall,
And silent mid the warder's slow footfall
There he arrayed himself in these; then said:

“O dreadful God, if ever I had prayed
For happy life, or quiet days, or e'en
Short life and peaceful death, then had it been
But mockery on my body these to bear
Wrought in thine honour so exceeding fair.
But when they lay a man on his last bed
With fairest raiment do they deck the dead,
And even so it fares with me today:
Scarce were I lonelier now, if far away
My soul were gone, my body laid at rest:
Yet do I deem well I have chosen the best
When I look round upon the lives of men
And the vain dreams, dreamed o'er and o'er again,
Waked from with anguish, blindly sought for still.
No need to ask thee if I do thy will,
No need to ask thee to abide by me
To look upon my doings that shall be,
Since fate has marked me body and soul to bear
The loneliness, the sternness and the care
That do these deeds, the failure and the shame
And—when my soul can feel no more—the fame
That men must needs desire. See, I go
In a few hours e'en such a deed to do
As Thou, O God, shalt think me marked thereby
To be thine own.”

198

He turned and pensively
Paced up and down the rampart for a space,
Till others 'gan to stir about the place
Besides the warders: then he bade to horse,
And, leaving there the more part of the force
Gathered about Andania, rode his ways
With a chosen band.

Old folk in after days,
When all was fallen unto nought again,
Telling the story of their struggle vain,
Would feel their hearts beat quicker as they told
Of his grey eyes beneath his hair of gold
That dreamy morn; then like a tale come true
Told of the Gods it seemed, that one should do
Such deeds and be so fair, so strong to save,
And yet so kind-eyed, smiling and yet grave
As though with deep insight, as round about
Rang the glad voices of folk free from doubt
And soft with new found bliss; as wife or maid
Went on their way rejoicing to have laid
Hand on the skirts of him or to have touched,
It might be, the brown hand that erewhile clutched
The pitiless sword that woke anew that strife
Amid whose clashing failed so many a life.