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

“O Lord, or Prince, or whatso name thou hast,
Great thanks I give thee; let the past be past,
Nor ask my name; for surely ere this day
Both name, and house, and friends have past away.
A Lemnian am I, who within the town
Had a fair house, and on the thymy down
Full many a head of sheep; and I had too
A daughter, old enough for men to woo,
A wife and three fair sons; of whom the first
For love and gold had now begun to thirst:
Full rich I was, and led a pleasant life,

Nor did I long for more, or doubt for strife.

“Know that in Lemnos were the Gods well served,
And duly all their awful rites observed,
Save only that no temple Venus had,
And from no altars was her heart made glad;
Wherefore for us she wove a bitter fate,
For by her power she set an evil hate
Of man, like madness, in each woman's heart,
And heavy sleep on us men, for our part,
From which few woke, or woke in time to feel
Against their throats the pitiless sharp steel.

“But that there might be one to tell the thing,
Nigh dawn I woke, and turning, thought to cling
Unto the warm side of my well-loved wife,
But found nought there but a keen two-edged knife.
So, wondering much, I gat me from the bed,
And going thence, found all the floor be-bled
In my son's sleeping place, and nigh the door
His body, hacked and hewn, upon the floor:
Naked he was, but in his clenched right hand
Held tufts of woman's hair. Then did I stand
As in a dream a man stands, when draws nigh
The thing he fears with such wild agony,
Yet dares not flee from; but the golden sun
Came forth at last, and daylight was begun;
Then trembling I took heart to leave at last
The lonely house, but, as I slowly passed
Into the porch, a dreadful noise I heard,
Nor shall I be again by aught so feared,
How long soe'er I live, as I was then,
Because that shout was worse than cries of men
Drunken with blood; but yet as in a dream
I went to meet it, and heard many a scream
From dying men; but, as I gained the street,
Men flying for their dear lives did I meet,
And turned and fled with them, I knew not why,
But looking back in running, could espy,

With shrinking horror, what kept up the chase.

“Because, indeed, the old familiar place,
From house-wall unto house-wall, was now filled
With frantic women, whose thin voices shrilled
With unknown war-cries; little did they heed,
If as they tore along, their flesh did bleed,
So that some man were slain, nor feared they now
If they each other smote with spear or bow,
For all were armed in some sort, and had set
On head or breast what armour they might get;
And some were naked else, and some were clad
In such-like raiment as the slain men had,
And some, their kirtles were looped up or rent.

“So ever at us shafts and spears they sent,
And through the street came on like a huge wave,
Until at last against the gates they drave,
And we gained on them, till some two or three,
As still the others strove confusedly,
Burst from the press, and heading all the rest,
Ran mightily, and the last men, hard pressed,
Turn round upon them, and straightway were slain,
Unarmed and faint, and 'gan the crowd to gain
Upon the fleeing men, till one by one
They fell, and looked their last upon the sun,
And I alone was held in chase, until
I reached the top of a high thymy hill
Above the sea, bleeding from arm and back,
Wherein two huntsmen's arrows lightly stack,
Shot by no practised hands; but nigh my death
I was indeed, empty of hope and breath.

“Yet, ere their changed hands could be laid on me,
I threw myself into the boiling sea,
And they turned back, nor doubted I was dead;
But I, though fearing much to show my head,
Got me by swimming to yon little beach,
And scarce the cavern's mouth made shift to reach,
And lay there fainting till the sun was high.

Then I awoke and rising fearfully,
Gat into the dark cave, and there have been,
How long I know not, and no man have seen;
And as for food and drink, within the cave
Good store of sweet clear water did I have,
And in the nights I went along the strand
And got me shell-fish whiles, and whiles laid hand
On seafowls' eggs; but natheless, misery
Must soon have slain me, had not the kind sea
Sent you, O lords, to give me life again;
Therefore, I pray ye may not wish in vain
For aught, and that with goods and happiness
The Father of all folk your lives may bless.”

Then said the prince: “And be thou strong of heart,
For after all thy woes, shalt thou have part
In this our quest, if so thou willest it;
But if so be that thou wouldst rather sit
In rest and peace within a fair homestead,
That shall some king give to thee by my head,
For love of me; or else for very fear
Shall some man give thee what thou countest dear.

“And if thou askest of us, know that we
Are children of the conquering Minyæ,
And make for Colchis o'er the watery plain,
And think we shall not fail to bring again
The Fleece of Neptune's ram to Thessaly.”

“Prince,” said the Lemnian, “I will go with thee
Whereso thou willest, neither have I will
To wait again for ruin, sitting still
Among such goods as grudging Fate will give,
Even at the longest, only while I live.”

Then Jason bade them bring him arms well wrought
And robes of price; and when all these were brought,
And he was armed, he seemed a goodly man.