The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III, IV, V, VI. |
| VII. |
| IX. |
 | X. |
|
|
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
In Thessaly, beside the tumbling sea,
Once dwelt a folk, men called the Minyæ;
For, coming from Orchomenus the old,
Bearing their wives and children, beasts and gold,
Through many a league of land they took their way,
And stopped at last, where in a sunny bay
The green Anaurus cleaves the white sea-sand,
And eastward inland doth Mount Pelion stand,
Where bears and wolves the centaurs' arrows find;
And southward is a gentle sea and kind,
Nigh landlocked, peopled with all kinds of fish,
And the good land yields all that man can wish.
Once dwelt a folk, men called the Minyæ;
For, coming from Orchomenus the old,
Bearing their wives and children, beasts and gold,
Through many a league of land they took their way,
And stopped at last, where in a sunny bay
The green Anaurus cleaves the white sea-sand,
And eastward inland doth Mount Pelion stand,
Where bears and wolves the centaurs' arrows find;
And southward is a gentle sea and kind,
Nigh landlocked, peopled with all kinds of fish,
And the good land yields all that man can wish.
So there they built Iolchos great of girth,
That daily waxed till these had left the earth,
With many another, and Cretheus the king
Had died, and left his crown and everything
To Æson, his own son by fair Tyro;
Whom, in unhappy days and long ago,
A God had loved, whose son was Pelias.
That daily waxed till these had left the earth,
With many another, and Cretheus the king
Had died, and left his crown and everything
To Æson, his own son by fair Tyro;
Whom, in unhappy days and long ago,
A God had loved, whose son was Pelias.
And so, within a while, it came to pass
This Pelias, being both covetous and strong
And full of wiles, and deeming nought was wrong
That wrought him good, thrust Æson from his throne,
And over all the Minyæ reigned alone;
While Æson, like a poor and feeble lord,
Dwelt in Iolchos still, nor was his word
Regarded much by any man therein,
Nor did men labour much his praise to win.
This Pelias, being both covetous and strong
And full of wiles, and deeming nought was wrong
That wrought him good, thrust Æson from his throne,
And over all the Minyæ reigned alone;
While Æson, like a poor and feeble lord,
Dwelt in Iolchos still, nor was his word
Regarded much by any man therein,
Nor did men labour much his praise to win.
3
Now 'mid all this a fair young son he had;
Of whom he thought when good had fallen to bad:
“Though Pelias doth to-day my life endure,
Yet may he crave to make his kingship sure
Some morrow yet by slaying sire and son:
Therefore will I send forth the little one,
Ere Pelias feels his high seat tottering,
And gets to know the terrors of a king,
That blood alone can deaden.” Therewithal
A faithful slave unto him did he call,
And bade him from his nurses take the child
And bear him forth unto the forest wild
About the feet of Pelion: there should he
Blow loudly on a horn of ivory
That Æson gave him; then would come to him
A Centaur, grave of face and large of limb,
Before whom he should fall upon his knees
And holding forth the child, say words like these:
Of whom he thought when good had fallen to bad:
“Though Pelias doth to-day my life endure,
Yet may he crave to make his kingship sure
Some morrow yet by slaying sire and son:
Therefore will I send forth the little one,
Ere Pelias feels his high seat tottering,
And gets to know the terrors of a king,
That blood alone can deaden.” Therewithal
A faithful slave unto him did he call,
And bade him from his nurses take the child
And bear him forth unto the forest wild
About the feet of Pelion: there should he
Blow loudly on a horn of ivory
That Æson gave him; then would come to him
A Centaur, grave of face and large of limb,
Before whom he should fall upon his knees
And holding forth the child, say words like these:
“O my lord Chiron, Æson sends me here
To say, if ever you have held him dear,
Take now this child, his son, and rear him up
Till we have fully drained the bitter cup
The Fates have filled for us; and if times change
While through the peaceful oakwood here you range,
And the crown comes upon the youngling's head,
Then, though a king right fair apparellèd,
Yet unto you shall he be but a slave,
Since now from fear his tender years you save;”
“And then,” quoth Æson, “all these words being said,
Hold out this ring, set with a ruby red,
Adorned with gold and man-like images,
And this same horn, whereon, 'twixt carven trees,
Diana follows up the flying hart;
They shall be signs of truth upon your part.
Then leave the child with him; and fear no whit,
But all the Centaur saith, give ear to it
And tell me all: now bring the child in haste;
Dusk grows the world, and day is weary-faced.”
To say, if ever you have held him dear,
Take now this child, his son, and rear him up
Till we have fully drained the bitter cup
The Fates have filled for us; and if times change
While through the peaceful oakwood here you range,
And the crown comes upon the youngling's head,
Then, though a king right fair apparellèd,
Yet unto you shall he be but a slave,
Since now from fear his tender years you save;”
“And then,” quoth Æson, “all these words being said,
Hold out this ring, set with a ruby red,
Adorned with gold and man-like images,
And this same horn, whereon, 'twixt carven trees,
Diana follows up the flying hart;
They shall be signs of truth upon your part.
Then leave the child with him; and fear no whit,
But all the Centaur saith, give ear to it
And tell me all: now bring the child in haste;
4
Then went the man and came again to him
With Jason, who was strong and large of limb
As for his years, and now upon his feet
Went firmly, and began to feel life sweet,
And longed for this and that, and on his tongue,
Bewildered, half articulate, speech hung.
With Jason, who was strong and large of limb
As for his years, and now upon his feet
Went firmly, and began to feel life sweet,
And longed for this and that, and on his tongue,
Bewildered, half articulate, speech hung.
But Æson, when he saw the sturdy boy,
His bright round limbs and face lit up with joy
Of very life, sighed deeply, and he spake:
“O head beloved, I pray thou mayst not ache
With bearing of the crown; were it not good
That thou shouldst live and die within this wood
That clothes the feet of Pelion, knowing nought
Of all the things by foolish men so sought;
For there, no doubt, is everything man needs—
The quiver, with the iron-pointed reeds,
The cornel bow, the wood-knife at the side,
The garments of the spotted panther's hide,
The bed of bear-skin in the hollow hill,
The bath within the pool of some green rill;
There shall the quick-eyed centaurs be thy friends,
Unto whose hearts such wisdom great Jove sends
They know the past and future, and fear nought
That by the Fates upon them may be brought.
And when the spring brings love, then mayst thou hap
On the kind wood-nymphs in the mountain's lap,
And choose thy mate, and with her, hand in hand,
Go wandering through the blossoming sweet land;
And nought of evil there shall come to thee,
But like the golden age shall all things be;
And when upon thee falls the fated day,
Fearless and painless shalt thou pass away.”
His bright round limbs and face lit up with joy
Of very life, sighed deeply, and he spake:
“O head beloved, I pray thou mayst not ache
With bearing of the crown; were it not good
That thou shouldst live and die within this wood
That clothes the feet of Pelion, knowing nought
Of all the things by foolish men so sought;
For there, no doubt, is everything man needs—
The quiver, with the iron-pointed reeds,
The cornel bow, the wood-knife at the side,
The garments of the spotted panther's hide,
The bed of bear-skin in the hollow hill,
The bath within the pool of some green rill;
There shall the quick-eyed centaurs be thy friends,
Unto whose hearts such wisdom great Jove sends
They know the past and future, and fear nought
That by the Fates upon them may be brought.
And when the spring brings love, then mayst thou hap
On the kind wood-nymphs in the mountain's lap,
And choose thy mate, and with her, hand in hand,
Go wandering through the blossoming sweet land;
And nought of evil there shall come to thee,
But like the golden age shall all things be;
And when upon thee falls the fated day,
Fearless and painless shalt thou pass away.”
So spoke he foolishly, nor knew indeed
How many hearts his son should make to bleed,
How many griefs his head, whitened with care
Long ere its time, before his death should bear.
How many hearts his son should make to bleed,
How many griefs his head, whitened with care
Long ere its time, before his death should bear.
5
Now, since the moonless night and dark was come,
Time was it that the child should leave his home;
So men to Æson's door the war-horse led
That was to bear them from the gates of dread,
And by the godlike Æson stood the slave,
With wallet on his back, and sharpened glaive
Girt to his side; to whom the horn and ring,
Fit for the belt and finger of a king,
Did Æson give, and therewith kissed the boy,
Who with his black beard played, and laughed for joy
To see the war-horse in the red torch-light.
At last, being mounted, forth into the night
They rode, and thus hath Jason left his home.
Time was it that the child should leave his home;
So men to Æson's door the war-horse led
That was to bear them from the gates of dread,
And by the godlike Æson stood the slave,
With wallet on his back, and sharpened glaive
Girt to his side; to whom the horn and ring,
Fit for the belt and finger of a king,
Did Æson give, and therewith kissed the boy,
Who with his black beard played, and laughed for joy
To see the war-horse in the red torch-light.
At last, being mounted, forth into the night
They rode, and thus hath Jason left his home.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |