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

So there they lay until the second dawn
Broke fair and fresh o'er glittering glade and lawn;
Then Jason rose, and did on him a fair
Blue woollen tunic, such as folk do wear
On the Magnesian cliffs, and at his thigh
He hung a short-sword and a knife thereby;
His head was covered with a russet-hood,
And in his hand two spears of cornel-wood
Well steeled and bound with brazen bands he shook.

Then from the Centaur's hands at last he took
The tokens of his birth, the ring and horn,
And so stept forth into the sunny morn,
And bade farewell to Chiron, and set out
With eager heart, that held small care or doubt.

So lightly through the well-known woods he passed,
And out into the open plain at last,
And went till night came on him, and then slept
Within a homestead that a poor man kept;
And rose again at dawn, and slept that night
Nigh the Anaurus, and at morrow's light
Rose up and went unto the river's brim;
But fearful seemed the passage unto him,
For swift and yellow drave the stream adown
'Twixt crumbling banks; and tree-trunks rough & brown
Whirled in the bubbling eddies here and there;

So swollen was the stream a maid might dare
To cross, in fair days, with unwetted knee.

Then Jason with his spear-shaft carefully
Sounded the depth, nor any bottom found;
And wistfully he cast his eyes around
To see if help was nigh, and heard a voice
Behind him, calling out:“Fair youth, rejoice
That I am here to help, or else meseems
Long might'st thou dwell beside these summer streams.”

Then Jason turned round quickly, and beheld
A woman, bent with burdens and with eld,
Grey and broad-shouldered; so he laughed, and said:
“O mother, wilt thou help me? by my head,
More help than thine I need upon this day.”

“O son,” she said, “needs must thou on thy way;
And is there any of the giants here
To bear thee through this water without fear?
Take, then, the help a God has sent to thee,
For in mine arms a small thing shalt thou be.”

So Jason laughed no more, because a frown
Gathered upon her brow, as she cast down
Her burden to the earth, and came anigh,
And raised him in her arms, and bore him high,
And stepped adown into the water cold.

There with one arm the hero did she hold,
And with the other thrust the whirling trees
Away from them; and laughing, and with ease
Went through the yellow foaming stream, and came
Unto the other bank; and little shame
Had Jason that a woman carried him,
For no man, howsoever strong of limb,
Had dared across that swollen flood to go,
But if he wished the Stygian stream to know;
Therefore he doubted not, that with some God
Or reverend Goddess that rough way he trod.

So when she had clomb up the slippery bank
And let him go, well-nigh adown he sank,

For he was dizzy with the washing stream,
And with that passage mazed as with a dream.

But, turning round about unto the crone,
He saw not her, but a most glorious one,
A seeming woman, blue-clad, glistering
With something more than gold, crowned like the king
Of all the world, and holding in her hand
A jewelled rod. So when he saw her stand
With unsoiled feet scarce touching the wet way,
He trembled sore, but therewith heard her say:

“O Jason, such as I have been to thee
Upon this day, such ever will I be;
And I am Juno; therefore doubt thou not
A mighty helper henceforth thou hast got
Against the swords and bitter tongues of men,
For surely mayst thou lean upon me, when
The turbulent and little-reasoning throng
Press hard upon thee, or a king with wrong
Would fain undo thee, as thou leanedst now
Within the yellow stream: so from no blow
Hold back thine hand, nor fear to set thine heart
On what thou deemest fits thy kingly part.

“Now to the king's throne this day draw anear,
Because of old time have I set a fear
Within his heart, ere yet thou hadst gained speech,
And whilst thou wanderedst beneath oak and beech,
Unthinking. And, behold! so have I wrought,
That with thy coming shall a sign be brought
Unto him; for the latchet of thy shoe
Rushing Anaurus late I bade undo,
Which now is carried swiftly to the sea.

“So Pelias, this day setting eyes on thee,
Shall not forget the shameful trickling blood
Adown my altar-steps, or in my wood
The screaming peacocks scared by other screams,
Nor yet to-night shall he dream happy dreams.

“Farewell then, and be joyful, for I go,

Unto the people many a thing to show,
And set them longing for forgotten things,
Whose rash hands toss about the crowns of kings.”

Therewith before his eyes a cloud there came,
Sweet-smelling, coloured like a rosy flame,
That wrapt the Goddess from him; who, indeed,
Went to Iolchos, and there sowed the seed
Of bitter change, that ruins kings of men;
For, like an elder of threescore and ten,
Throughout the town she went, and, as such do,
Ever she blessed the old and banned the new,
Lamenting for the passed and happy reign
Of Cretheus, wishing there were come again
One like to him; till in the market-place
About the king was many a doubtful face.

Now Jason, by Anaurus left alone,
Found that, indeed, his right-foot shoe was gone,
But, as the Goddess bade him, went his way
Half shod, and by an hour before mid-day
He reached the city gates, and entered there,
Whom the folk mocked, beholding his foot bare,
And iron-hilted sword and uncouth weed:
But of no man did he take any heed,
But came into the market-place, where thronged
Much folk round him by whom his sire was wronged.
But when he stood within that busy stead,
Taller he showed than any by a head,
Great-limbed, broad-shouldered, mightier far than all,
But soft of speech, though unto him did fall
Full many a scorn upon that day to get.

So in a while he came where there was set
Pelias the king, judging the people there;
In scarlet was he clad, and o'er his hair,
Sprinkled with grey, he wore a royal crown,
And from an ivory throne he looked adown
Upon the suitors and the restless folk.

Now, when the yellow head of Jason broke

From out the throng, with fearless eyes and grey,
A terror took the king, which ere that day
For many a peaceful year he had not felt,
And his hand fell upon his swordless belt;
But when the hero strode up to the throne,
And set his unshod foot upon the stone
Of the last step thereof, and as he stood,
Drew off the last fold of his russet hood,
And with a clang let fall his brass-bound spear,
The king shrunk back, grown pale with deadly fear;
Nor then the oak-trees' speech did he forget,
Noting the one bare foot, and garments wet,
And something half remembered in his face.

And now nigh silent was the crowded place,
For through the folk remembrance Juno sent,
And soon from man to man a murmur went,
And frowning folk were whispering deeds of shame
And wrong the king had wrought, and Æson's name,
Forgotten long, was bandied all about,
And silent mouths seemed ready for a shout.

So, when the king raised up a hand, that shook
With fear, and turned a wrathful, timorous look
On his Ætolian guards, upon his ears
There fell the clashing of the people's spears;
And on the house-tops round about the square
Could he behold folk gathered here and there,
And see the sunbeams strike on brass and steel.
But therewithal, though new fear did he feel,
He thought, “Small use of arms in this distress;
Needs is it that I use my wiliness;”
Then spoke aloud:“O young man, what wouldst thou,
Who hast not learned before a king to bow?”

“Pelias,” he said, “I will not call thee king,
Because thy crown is but a stolen thing,
And with a stolen sceptre dost thou reign,
Which now I bid thee render up again,
And on his father's throne my father set,

Whom for long years the Gods did well forget,
But now, in lapse of time, remembering,
Have raised me, Jason, up to do this thing,
His son, and son of fair Alcimidé;
Yet now, since Tyro's blood 'twixt thee and me
Still runs, and thou my father's brother art,
In no wise would I hurt thee, for my part,
If thou wilt render to us but our own,
And still shalt thou stand nigh my father's throne.”

Then all the people, when aright they knew
That this was Æson's son, about them drew,
And when he ended gave a mighty shout;
But Pelias cleared his face of fear and doubt,
And answered Jason, smiling cunningly:

“Yea, in good time thou comest unto me,
My nephew Jason; fain would I lay down
This heavy weight and burden of a crown,
And have instead my brother's love again,
Which once I lost to win a trouble vain;
And yet, since now thou showest me such goodwill,
Fain would I be a king a short while still,
That I may set all things in order due,
Lest there be some who should my going rue:
Be thou beside me still, my brother's son,
And count the day of fear and trouble done.
But for thy father Æson will I send,
That I may see him as a much-loved friend,
Now that these years of bitterness are passed,
And peaceful days are come to me at last.”

With that, from out the press grave Æson came,
E'en as he spoke; for to his ears the fame
Of Jason's coming thither had been brought;
Wherefore, with eager eyes his son he sought;
But, seeing the mighty hero great of limb,
Stopped short, with eyes set wistfully on him,
While a false honied speech the king began:

“Hail, brother Æson, hail, O happy man!

To-day thou winnest back a noble son,
Whose glorious deeds this fair hour sees begun,
And from my hands thou winnest back the crown
Of this revered and many-peopled town;
So let me win from thee again thy love,
Nor with long anger slight the Gods above.”

Then Jason, holding forth the horn and ring,
Said to his father:“Doubtest thou this thing?
Behold the tokens Chiron gave to me
When first he said that I was sprung from thee.”

Then little of those signs did Æson reck,
But cast his arms about the hero's neck,
And kissed him oft, remembering well the time
When as he sat beneath the flowering lime
Beside his house, the glad folk to him came
And said:“O King, all honour to thy name,
That will not perish surely; for thy son
His royal life this day has just begun.”

Wherefore unto him, like an empty dream,
The busy place, the king and folk did seem,
As on that sight at last he set his eyes,
Prayed for so oft with many a sacrifice;
And speechless for a while fain must he stand,
Holding within his hand the mighty hand;
And as the wished-for son he thus beheld,
Half-mournful thoughts of swiftly-gathering eld
Came thick upon him, till the salt tears ran
On to the raiment of the goodly man;
Until at last he said:“All honour now
To Jove and all the Gods! Surely, I know,
Henceforth my name shall never perish; yet
But little joy of this man shall I get,
For through the wide world where will be the king
Who will not fear him; nor shall anything
Be strong against him; therefore certainly
Full seldom will he ride afield with me,
Nor will he long bear at his father's board

To sit, well known of all, but with his sword
Will rather burst asunder banded throngs
Of evil men, healing the people's wrongs.

“And as for thee, O Pelias, as I may,
Will I be friend to thee from this same day;
And since we both of us are growing old,
And both our lives will soon be as tales told,
I think perchance that thou wilt let me be,
To pass these few years in felicity
That this one brings me.”

Thereon Pelias said:
“Yea, if I hurt thee aught, then on my head
Be every curse that thou canst ever think;
And dying, of an ill draught may I drink,
For in my mind is nought but wish for rest.

“But on this day, I pray thee, be my guest,
While yet upon my head I wear the crown,
Which, ere this morn's new flowers have dropped adown,
Your head shall bear again; for in the hall,
Upon the floor the fresh-plucked rushes fall,
Even as we speak, and maids and men bear up
The kingly service; many a jewelled cup
And silver platter; and the red fires roar
About the stalled ox and the woodland boar;
And wine we have, that ere this youngling's eyes
First saw the light, made tears and laughter rise
Up from men's hearts, making the past seem dull,
The future hollow, but the present full
Of all delights, though quick they pass away;
And we, who have been foes for many a day,
Surely, ere evening sees the pitcher dry,
May yet be friends, and talking lovingly,
And with our laughter make the pillars ring,
While this one sits revolving many a thing,
Saddened by that, which makes us elders glad.”

Such good words said he, but the thoughts were bad
Within his crafty breast; and still he thought

How best he might be rid of him just brought,
By sentence of the Gods, upon his head.

Then moved the kinsmen from the market-stead
Between a lane of men, who ever pressed
About the princes, and with loud words blessed
The hero and his race, and thought no shame
To kiss his skirts; and so at last they came
Unto the house that rustling limes did shade,
And thereabout was many a slender maid,
Who welcomed them with music and sweet song,
And cast red roses as they went along,
Before their feet; and therewith brought the three
Into the palace, where right royally
Was Jason clad, and seemed a prince indeed.

So while the harp-string and shrill-piping reed
Still sounded, trooped the folk unto the feast,
And all were set to meat, both most and least;
And when with dainties they were fully fed,
Then the tall jars and well-sewn goat-skins bled,
And men grew glad, forgetting every care.

But first a golden chain and mantle fair
Pelias did on him; and then, standing up,
Poured out red wine from a great golden cup,
Unto the Gods, and prayed to them, and cried:
“Lords of the World, fair let our bliss abide
This hour at least, nor let our dear delight
Be marred by aught, until the silent night
Has come, and turned to day again, and we
Wake up once more to joy or misery,
Or death itself, if so it pleaseth you:
Is this thing, then, so great a thing to do?”

Thereon folk shouted, and the pipes again
Breathed through the hall a sweet heart-softening strain,
And up the hall came lovely damsels, dressed
In gowns of green, who unto every guest
Gave a rose garland, nor yet hasted they,
When this was done, to pass too quick away,

If here and there an eager hand still held
By gown or wrist, whom the young prince beheld
With longing eyes that roved about the hall.