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

“Then went the king unto his house again,
And Ino with him, downcast that the twain
Had so escaped her, waiting for what Fate
Should bring upon her doomed head, soon or late.

“Nor long she waited; for, one evil day,
Unto the king her glittering gold array
And rosy flesh, half seen through raiment thin,
Seemed like the many-spotted leopard's skin;

And her fair hands and feet like armèd paws,
Which the keen beast across the strained throat draws
Of some poor fawn; and when he saw her go
Across the hall, her footsteps soft and slow,
And the lithe motion of her body fair
But made him think of some beast from his lair
Stolen forth at the beginning of the night.

“Therefore with fear and anger at the sight
He shook, being maddened by some dreadful God;
And stealthily about the place he trod,
Seeking his sword; and getting it to hand,
With flaming eyes and foaming mouth did stand
Awhile, then rushed at Ino as she stood
Trembling and pale, in horror of his mood;
Straightway she caught her raiment up and fled
Adown the streets, where once she had been led
In triumph by the man whose well-known cheer
Close at her heels, now struck benumbing fear
Into her heart, the forge of many a woe.

“So, full of anguish, panting did she go
O'er rough and smooth, till field and wood were passed,
And on the border of the sea at last,
With raiment torn and unshod feet, she stood,
Reddening the flowering sea-pink with her blood.

“But when she saw the tireless hunter nigh,
All wild and shouting, with a dreadful cry
She stretched her arms out seaward, and sprung down
Over the cliff among the seaweed brown
And washing surf, neither did anyone
See aught of her again beneath the sun.

“But Athamas, being come to where she stood,
Stared vacantly awhile upon the blood,
Then looking seaward, drew across his eyes
His fevered hand; and thronging memories
Came thick upon him, until dreamily
He turned his back upon the hungry sea,
And cast his sword down; and so, weaponless,

Went back, half-waking to his sore distress.

“As for the twain, perched on that dizzy height,
The white-walled city faded from their sight,
And many another place that well they knew;
And over woods and meadows still they flew,
And to the husbandmen seemed like a flame
Blown 'twixt the earth and the sky; until they came
Unto the borders of the babbling sea.
Nor stayed they yet, but flew unceasingly,
Till, looking back, seemed Pelion like a cloud;
And they beheld the white-topped billows crowd
Unto the eastward, 'neath the following wind.

“And there a wretched end did Helle find
Unto her life; for when she did behold,
So far beneath, the deep green sea and cold,
She shut her eyes for horror of the sight,
Turning the sunny day to murk midnight,
Through which there floated many an awful thing,
Made vocal by the ceaseless murmuring
Beneath her feet; till a great gust of wind
Caught the beast's wings & swayed him round; then blind,
Dizzy and fainting, did she grow too weak
To hold her place, though still her hands did seek
Some stay by catching at the locks of gold;
And as she fell her brother strove to hold
Her jewelled girdle, but the treacherous zone
Broke in his hand, and he was left alone
Upon the ram, that, as a senseless thing,
Still flew on toward the east, no whit heeding
His shouts and cries; but Helle, as she fell
Down through the depths, the sea-folk guarded well,
And kept her body dead from scar or wound,
And laid it, lapped in sea-wet gold around,
Upon the south side of the murmuring strait,
That still, in memory of her piteous fate,
Bears her sweet name; her, in a little while,
The country folk beheld, and raised a pile

Of beech and oak, with blossoms o'er them spread;
And lifting up the piteous maiden dead,
Laid her thereon, and there did everything,
As for the daughter of a mighty king.