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

Was dreaming in his sleeplessness
Of this and that which he had done
Before this watch he had begun;
Till, with a start, he looked at last
About him, and all dreams were past;
For now, though it was past twilight
Without, within all grew as bright
As when the noon-sun smote the wall,
Though no lamp shone within the hall.

Then rose the King upon his feet,
And well-nigh heard his own heart beat
And grew all pale for hope and fear,
As sound of footsteps caught his ear
But soft, and as some fair lady,
Going as gently as might be,
Stopped now and then awhile, distraught
By pleasant wanderings of sweet thought.

Nigher the sound came and more nigh,
Until the King unwittingly
Trembled and felt his hair arise,
But on the door still kept his eyes;
That opened soon, and in the light
There stepped alone a lady bright,
And made straight toward him up the hall.

In golden garments was she clad,
And round her waist a belt she had
Of emeralds fair, and from her feet,
That shod with gold the floor did meet,
She held the raiment daintily,
And on her golden head had she
A rose-wreath round a pearl-wrought crown.
Softly she walked with eyes cast down,
Nor looked she any other than
An earthly lady, though no man
Has seen so fair a thing as she.

So when her face the King could see
Still more he trembled, and he thought:

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“Surely my wish is hither brought,
And this will be a goodly day
If for mine own I win this may.”
And therewithal she drew anear
Until the trembling King could hear
Her very breathing, and she raised
Her head and on the King's face gazed
With serious eyes, and stopping there,
Swept from her shoulders her long hair
And let her gown fall on her feet,
Then spoke in a clear voice and sweet:

“Well hast thou watched; so now, O King,
Be bold and wish for some good thing;
And yet, I counsel thee, be wise.
Behold, spite of these lips and eyes,
Hundreds of years old now am I
And have seen joy and misery.
And thou, who yet hast lived in bliss,
I bid thee well consider this:
Better it were that men should live
As beasts and take what earth can give,
The air, the warm sun and the grass,
Until unto the earth they pass,
And gain perchance nought worse than rest,
Than that not knowing what is best
For sons of men, they needs must thirst
For what shall make their lives accurst.

“Therefore I bid thee now beware,
Lest getting something seeming fair
Thou com'st in vain to long for more,
Or lest the thing thou wishest for
Make thee unhappy till thou diest,
Or lest with speedy death thou buyest
A little hour of happiness
Or lazy joy with sharp distress.

“Alas, why say I this to thee?
For now I see full certainly

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That thou wilt ask for such a thing,
It had been best for thee to fling
Thy body from a mountain-top,
Or in a white-hot fire to drop,
Or ever thou hadst seen me here,
Nay then be speedy and speak clear.”

Then the King cried out eagerly,
Grown fearless: “Ah, be kind to me!
Thou knowest what I long for then!
Thou know'st that I, a king of men,
Will ask for nothing else than thee!
Thou didst not say this could not be,
And I have had enough of bliss
If I may end my life with this.”

“Hearken,” she said, “what men will say
When they are mad! before to-day
I knew that words such things could mean,
And wondered that it could have been.

“Think well, because this wished-for joy,
That surely will thy bliss destroy,
Will let thee live until thy life
Is wrapped in such bewildering strife
That all thy days will seem but ill—
Now wilt thou wish for this thing still?”

“Wilt thou then grant it?” cried the King;
“Surely thou art an earthly thing,
And all this is but mockery,
And thou canst tell no more than I
What ending to my life shall be.”

“Nay, then,” she said, “I grant it thee
Perforce; come nigh, for I am thine
Until the morning sun doth shine,
And only coming time can prove
What thing I am.”

Dizzy with love,
And with surprise struck motionless
That this divine thing, with far less

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Of striving than a village maid,
Had yielded, there he stood afraid,
Spite of hot words and passionate,
And strove to think upon his fate.