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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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He looked at her, but moveless did she stand,
Nor spake a word, nor yet did any pain

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Writhe her fair face, grown deadly pale again.
Then Bodli stretched his hand forth;
“Yet they lie,
Who say I did the thing, who say that I,
E'en in my in most heart, have wished for it.
But thou—O, hearken, Gudrun—he doth sit
By Ingibiorg's side ever; day by day,
Sadder his eyes grow when she goes away—
What! know I not the eyes of lovers then?—
Why should I tell thee of the talk of men,
Babbling of how he weds her, is made king,
How he and Olaf shall have might to bring
Denmark and England both beneath their rule.
—Ah, woe, woe, woe, that I, a bitter fool,
Upon one heart all happy life should stake;
Woe is me, Gudrun, for thy beauty's sake!
Ah, for my fool's eyes and my greedy heart
Must all rest henceforth from my soul depart?”