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Lib. 5ono PROSE AND POETRY (1856-1870) WILLIAM MORRIS WILLIAM MORRIS From a f holograph by Emery U 'alkcr PROSE AND POETRY (1856-1870) BY WILLIAM MORRIS INCLUDING 'the DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE ', 'THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ', PROSE ROMANCES FROM THE OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE MAGAZINE AND OTHER PROSE AND POETRY HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON EDINBURGH GLASGOW NEW YORK TORONTO MELBOURNE BOMBAY 1913 OXFORD : HORACE HART PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY CONTENTS PAGE Prose Romances from the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine (1856) : The Story of the Unknown Church • 3 A Dream ....... 13 Frank's Sealed Letter • • 30 Gertha's Lovers .... • • 47 Svend and His Brethren 98 Lindenborg Pool 117 The Hollow Land . 126 Golden Wings .... • • 166 The Defence of Guenevere (1858) : The Defence of Guenevere ..... 187 King Arthur's Tomb . 196 Sir Galahad, a Christmas Mysterv . 207 The Chapel in Lyoness . . 214 Sir Peter Harpdon's End . 217 Rapunzel .... . 242 Concerning Gefifray Teste Noire . 254 A Good Knight in Prison . 260 Old Love .... . 264 The Gilliflower of Gold . . 266 Shameful Death . 268 The Eve of Crecy . . 269 The Judgement of God , . 271 The Little Tower . . 273 The Sailing of the Sword . 275 Spell-bound . 277 The Wind .... . 280 The Blue Closet . . 283 The Tune of Seven Towers . 285 Golden Wings . 287 VI CONTENTS PAGE The Haystack in the Floods 294 Two Red Roses across the Moon .... 298 Welland River 299 Riding Together 302 Father John's War-song ..... 304 Sir Giles' War-song 305 Near Avalon 306 Praise of My Lady 307 Summer Dawn ....... 309 In Prison ........ 310 The Life and Death of Jason (1867) : Book I. Jason having grown up to manhood in the woods, is warned of what his life shall be ..... Jason claims his own — Pelias tells about the Golden Fleece — Jason vows the quest thereof .... The Argonauts called together The quest begun — The loss of Hylas and Hercules .... The death of Cyzicus — Phineus freed from the Harpies .... The passage of the Symplegades — The heroes come to ^a Jason first sees Medea — The magic potion of Medea ..... The taming of the brazen bulls — The destruction of the Earth-born The Fleece taken from the temple — The departure of Argo — The death of Absyrtus ..... X. Argo cut off from the straits — The entry of the river — ^The passage northward XL The passage northward continued — Argo drawn overland — ^The winter by the northern river II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. 313 323 347 362 380 390 404 416 428 440 455 CONTENTS vii PAGE Book XII. The heroes reach the northern sea : and pass unknown lands, and seas without land, till they come at last to the pillars of Hercules . . . 467 „ XIII. Medea sees Circe, and has good counsel from her ..... 479 „ XIV. The Sirens— The Garden of the Hes- perides — The heroes dc sacrifice at Malea 489 „ XV. Arg J in ambush — Medea goes to lolchos, and by her wiles brings Pelias to his death 511 „ XVI. The landing of the heroes — Jason is made king in lolchos, and the Argonauts go to their own homes . 541 „ XVII. Jason at Corinth — The wedding of Glance — The death of Jason . . 553 Miscellaneous Poems (1856-70) : Winter Weather ....... 591 The God of the Poor 593 The Two Sides of the River «01 On the Edge of the Wilderness .... 604 Hapless Love ....... 007 Prefatory Sonnet to ' The Story of Grettir the Strong ' 611 A Prologue in Verse . . . . . .612 Descriptive and Critical Articles (1856) : The Churches of North France — No. 1. — Shadows of Amiens .... 617 ' Death the Avenger ' and ' Death the Friend ' .631 ' Men and Women ' by Robert Browning . . . 633 Poems by Dante Gabriel Rossetti .... 649 L PROSE ROMANCES FROM THE OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE MAGAZINE 1856 MORRIS THE STORY OF THE UNKNOWN CHURCH {Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, January 1856) I WAS the master-mason of a church that was built more than six hundred years ago ; it is now two hundred years since that church vanished from the face of the earth ; it was destroyed utterly, — no fragment of it was left ; not even the great pillars that bore up the tower at the cross, where the choir used to join the nave. No one knows now ftven where it stood, only in this very autumn-tide, if you knew the place, you would see the heaps made by the earth-covered ruins heaving the yellow corn into glorious waves, so that the place where my church used to be is as beautiful now as when it stood in all its splendour. I do not remember very much abovit the land where my church was ; I have quite forgotten the name of it, but I know it was very beautiful, and even now, while I am thinking of it, comes a flood of old memories, and I almost seem to see it again, — that old beautiful land ! only dimly do I see it in spring and summer and winter, but I see it in autumn-tide clearly now ; yes, clearer, clearer, oh ! so bright and glorious ! yet it was beautiful too in spring, when the brown earth began to grow green : beautiful in summer, when the blue sky looked so much bluer, if you could hem a piece of it in between the new white carving ; beautiful in the solemn starry nights, so solemn that it almost reached agony — the awe and joy one had in their great beauty. But of all these beautiful times, I remember the whole only of autumn-tide ; the others come in bits to me ; I can think only of parts of them, but all of autumn ; and of all days and nights in autumn, I remember one more particularly. That autumn day the church was nearly finished, and the monks, for whom we were building the church, and the people, who lived b2 4 PROSE ROMAlslCES in the town hard by, crowded round us oftentimes to watch us carving. Now the great Church, and the buildings of the Abbey where the monks Hved, were about three miles from the town, and the town stood on a hill overlooking the rich autumn country : it was girt about with great walls that had overhanging battlements, and towers at certain places all along the walls, and often we could see from the churchyard or the Abbey garden, the flash of helmets and spears, and the dim shadowy waving of banners, as the knights and lords and men-at-arms passed to and fro along the battlements ; and we could see too in the town the three spires of the three churches ; and the spire of the Cathedral, which was the tallest of the three, was gilt all over with gold, and always at night-time a great lamp shone from it that hung in the spire midway between the roof of the church and the cross at the top of the spire. The Abbey where we built the Church was not girt by stone walls, but by a circle of poplar trees, and whenever a wind passed over them, were it ever so little a breath, it set them all a -ripple ; and when the wind was high, they bowed and swayed very low, and the wind, as it lifted the leaves, and showed their silvery white sides, or as again in the lulls of it, it let them drop, kept on changing the trees from green to white, and white to green ; moreover, through the boughs and trunks of the poplars, we caught glimpses of the great golden corn sea, waving, waving, waving for leagues and leagues ; and among the corn grew burning scarlet poppies, and blue corn-flowers ; and the corn- flowers were so blue, that they gleamed, and seemed to burn with a steady light, as they grew beside the poppies among the gold of the wheat. Through the corn sea ran a blue river, and always green meadows and lines of tall poplars followed its windings. The old Church had been burned, and that was the reason why the monks caused me to build the new one ; the buildings of the Abbey were built at the same time as the burned-down Church, more than a hundred years before I was born, and they were on the north side of the Church, and joined THE STORY OF THE UNKNOWN CHURCH 5 to it by a cloister of round arches, and in the midst of the cloister was a lawn, and in the midst of that lawn, a fountain of marble, carved round about with flowers and strange beasts ; and at the edge of the lawn, near the round arches, were a great many sun-flowers that were all in blossom on that autumn day ; and up many of the pillars of the cloister crept passion-flowers and roses. Then farther from the Church, and past the cloister and its buildings, were many detached buildings, and a great garden round them, all within the circle of the poplar trees ; in the garden were trellises covered over with roses, and convolvolus, and the great-leaved fiery nasturtium ; and specially all along by the poplar trees were there trellises, but on these grew nothing but deep crimson roses ; the hollyhocks too were all out in blossom at that time, great spires of pink, and orange, and red, and white, with their soft, downy leaves. I said that nothing grew on the trellises by the poplars but crimson roses, but I was not quite right, for in many places the wild flowers had crept into the garden from without ; lush green briony, with green-white blossoms, that grows so fast, one could almost think that we see it grow, and deadly nightshade, La bella donna, O ! so beautiful ; red berry, and purple, yellow-spiked flower, and deadly, cruel-looking, dark green leaf, all growing together in the glorious days of early autvxmn. And in the midst of the great garden was a conduit, with its sides carved with histories from the Bible, and there was on it too, as on the fountain in the cloister, much carving of flowers and strange beasts. Now the Church itself was surrounded on. every side but the north by the cemetery, and there were many graves there, both of monks and of laymen, and often the friends of those, whose bodies lay there, had planted flowers about the graves of those they loved. I remember one such particularly, for at the head of it was a cross of carved wood, and at the foot of it, facing the cross, three tall sun-flowers ; then in the midst of the cemetery was a cross of stone, carved on one side with the Crucifixion of OUT Lord Jesus Christ, and on the other with Our Lady 6 PROSE ROMANCES holding the Divine Child. So that day, that I specially remember, in Autumn-tide, when the church was nearly finished, I was carving in the central porch of the west front ; (for I carved all those bas-reliefs in the west front with my own hand ;) beneath me my sister Margaret was carving at the flower-work, and the little quatrefoils that carry the signs of the zodiac and emblems of the months : now my sister Margaret was rather more than twenty years old at that time, and she was very beautiful, with dark brown hair and deep calm violet eyes. I had lived with her all my life, lived with her almost alone latterty, for our father and mother died when she was quite young, and I loved her very much, though I was not thinking of her just then, as she stood beneath me carving. Now the central porch was carved with a bas- relief of the Last Judgement, and it was divided into three parts by horizontal bands of deep flower-work. In the lowest division, just over the doors, was carved The Rising of the Dead ; above were angels blowing long trumpets, and Michael the Archangel weighing the souls, and the blessed led into heaven by angels, and the lost into hell by the devil ; and in the topmost division was the Judge of the world. All the figures in the porch were finished except one, and I remember when I woke that morning my exulta- tion at the thought of my Church being so nearly finished ; I remember, too, how a kind of misgiving mingled with the exultation, which, try all I could, I was unable to shake off ; I thought then it was a rebuke for my pride, well, perhaps it was. The figure I had to carve was Abraham, sitting with a blossoming tree on each side of him, holding in his two hands the corners of his great robe, so that it made a mighty fold, wherein, with their hands crossed over their breasts, were the souls of the faithful, of whom he was called Father : I stood on the scaffolding for some time, while Margaret's chisel worked on bravely down below. I took mine in my hand, and stood so, listening to the noise of the masons inside, and two monks of the Abbey came and stood below me, and a knight, holding his little daughter by the hand, who THE STORY OF THE UNKNOWN CHURCH 7 every now and then looked up at him, and asked him strange questions. I did not think of these long, but began to think of Abraham, yet I could not think of him sitting there, quiet and solemn, while the Judgement- Trumpet was being blown ; I rather thought of him as he looked when he chased those kings so far ; riding far ahead of any of his company, with his mail-hood off his head, and lying in grim folds down his back, with the strong west wind blowing his wild black hair far out behind him, with the wind rippling the long scarlet pennon of his lance ; riding there amid the rocks and the sands alone ; with the last gleam of the armour of the beaten kings disappearing behind the winding of the pass ; with his company a long, long way behind, quite out of sight, though their trumpets sounded faintly among the clefts of the rocks ; and so I thought I saw him, till in his fierce chase he leapt, horse and man, into a deep river, quiet, swift, and smooth ; and there was something in the moving of the water-lilies as the breast of the horse swept them aside, that suddenlj'- took away the thought of Abraham and brought a strange dream of lands I had never seen ; and the first was of a place where I was quite alone, standing by the side of a river, and there was the sound of singing a very long way off, but no living thing of anj^ kind could be seen, and the land Avas quite flat, quite without hills, and quite without trees too, and the river wound very much, making all kinds of quaint curves, and on the side where I stood there grew nothing but long grass, but on the other side grew, quite on to the horizon, a great sea of red corn- poppies, only paths of white lilies wound all among them, with here and there a great golden sun-flower. So I looked down at the river by my feet, and saw how blue it was, and how, as the stream went swiftly by, it swayed to and fro the long green weeds, and I stood and looked at the river for long, till at last I felt some one touch me on the shoulder, and, looking round, I saw standing by me my friend Amyot, whom I love better than any one else in the world, but I thought in my dream that I was frightened when I saw him, for his face had changed so, 8 PROSE ROMANCES it was so bright and almost transparent, and his eyes gleamed and shone as I had never seen them do before. Oh ! he was so wondrously beautiful, so fearfully beauti- ful ! and as I looked at him the distant music swelled, and seemed to come close up to me, and then swept by us, and fainted away, at last died off entirely ; and then I felt sick at heart, and faint, and parched, and I stooped to drink of the water of the river, and as soon as the water touched my lips, lo ! the river vanished, and the flat country with its poppies and lilies, and I dreamed that I was in a boat by myself again, floating in an almost land-locked bay of the northern sea, under a cliff of dark basalt. I was lying on my back in the boat, looking up at the intensely blue sky, and a long low swell from the outer sea lifted the boat up and let it fall again and carried it gradually nearer and nearer towards the dark cliff ; and as I moved on, I saw at last, on the top of the cliff, a castle, with many towers, and on the highest tower of the castle there was a great white banner floating, with a red chevron on it, and three golden stars on the chevron ; presently I saw too on one of the towers, growing in a cranny of the worn stones, a great bunch of golden and blood-red wall-flowers, and I watched the wall-flowers and banner for long ; when suddenly I heard a trumpet blow from the castle, and saw a rush of armed men on to the battlements, and there was a flerce fight, till at last it was ended, and one went to the banner and pulled it down, and cast it over the cliff into the sea, and it came down in long sweeps, with the wind making little ripples in it ; — slowly, slowly it came, till at last it fell over me and covered me from my feet till over my breast, and I let it stay there and looked again at the castle, and then I saw that there was an amber-coloured banner floating over the castle in place of the red chevron, and it was much larger than the other : also now, a man stood on the battlements, looking towards me ; he had a tilting helmet on, with the visor down, and an amber-coloured surcoat over his armour : his right hand was ungauntletted, and he held it high above his head, and in his hand was the bunch THE STORY OF THE UNKNOWN CHURCH 9 of wall-flowers that I had seen growing on the wall ; and his hand was white and small, like a woman's, for in myl dream I could see even very far off things much clearer than we see real material things on the earth : presently he threw the wall-flowers over the cliff, and they fell in the boat just behind my head, and then I saw, looking down from the battlements of the castle, Amyot. He looked down towards me very sorrowfully, I thought, but, even as in the other dream, said nothing ; so I thought in my dream that I wept for very pity, and for love of him, for he looked as a man just risen from a long illness, and who will carry till he dies a dull pain about with him. He was very thin, and his long black hair drooped all about his face, as he leaned over the battle- ments looking at me : he was quite pale, and his cheeks were hollow, but his eyes large, and soft, and sad. So I reached out my arms to him, and suddenly I was walking with him in a lovely garden, and we said nothing, for the music which I had heard at first was sounding close to us now, and there were many birds in the boughs of the trees : oh, such birds ! gold and ruby, and emerald, but they sung not at all, but were quite silent, as though they too were listening to the music. Now all this time Amyot and I had been looking at each other, but just then I turned my head away from him, and as soon as I did so, the music ended with a long wail, and when I turned again Amyot was gone ; then I felt even more sad and sick at heart than I had before when I was by the river, and I leaned against a tree, and put my hands before my eyes. When I looked again the garden was gone, and I knew not where I was, and presently all my dreams were gone. The chips were flying bravely from the stone under my chisel at last, and all my thoughts now were in my carving, when I heard my name, ' Walter,' called, and when I looked down I saw one standing below me, whom I had seen in my dreams just before — Amyot. I had no hopes of seeing him for a long time, perhaps I might never see him again, I thought, for he was away (as I thought) fighting in the holy wars, and it made me almost beside myself to see 10 PROSE ROMANCES him standing close by me in the flesh. I got down from my scaffolding as soon as I could, and all thoughts else were soon drowned in the joy of having him by me ; Margaret, too, how glad she must have been, for she had been betrothed to him for some time before he went to the wars, and he had been five years away ; five years ! and how we had thought of him through those many weary days ! how often his face had come before me ! his brave, honest face, the most beautiful among all the faces of men and women I have ever seen. Yes, I remember how five years ago I held his hand as we came together out of the cathedral of that great, far-off city, whose name I forget now ; and then I remember the stamping of the horses' feet ; I remember how his hand left mine at last, and then, some one looking back at me earnestly as they all rode on together — looking back, with his hand on the saddle behind him, while the trumpets sang in long solemn peals as they all rode on together, with the glimmer of arms and the fluttering of banners, and the clinking of the rings of the mail, that sounded like the falling of many drops of water into the deep, still waters of some pool that the rocks nearly meet over ; and the gleam and flash of the swords, and the glimmer of the lance-heads and the flutter of the rippled banners, that streamed out from them, sw^ept past me, and were gone, and they seemed like a pageant in a dream, whose meaning we know not ; and those sounds too, the trumpets, and the clink of the mail, and the thunder of the horse-hoofs, they seemed dream-like too — and it was all like a dream that he should leave me, for we had said that we should always be together ; but he went away, and now he is come back again. We were by his bed-side, Margaret and I ; I stood and. leaned over him, and my hair fell sideways over my face and touched his face ; Margaret kneeled beside me, quivering in every limb, not with pain, I think, but rather shaken by a passion of earnest prayer. After some time (I know not how long), I looked up from his face to the window underneath which he lay ; I do not know what time of the day it was, but I know that it THE STORY OF THE UNKNOWN CHURCH 11 was a glorious autumn day, a day soft with melting, golden haze : a vine and a rose grew together, and trailed half across the window, so that I could not see much of the beautiful blue sky, and nothing of town or country beyond ; the vine leaves were touched with red here and there, and three over-blown roses, light pink roses, hung amongst them. I remember dwelling on the strange lines the autumn had made in red on one of the gold-green vine leaves, and watching one leaf of one of the over-blown roses, expecting it to fall every minute ; but as I gazed, and felt disappointed that the rose leaf had not fallen yet, I felt my pain suddenly shoot through me, and I remembered what I had lost ; and then came bitter, bitter dreams, — dreams which had once made me happy, — dreams of the things I had hoped would be, of the things that would nfever be now ; they came between the fair vine leaves and rose blossoms, and that which lay before the window ; the}' came as before, perfect in colour and form, sweet sounds and shapes. But now in every one was something unutterably miserable ; they would not go away, they put out the steady glow of the golden haze, the sweet light of the sun through the vine leaves, the soft leaning of the full blo\\n roses. I wandered in them for a long time ; at last I felt a hand put me aside gently, for I was standing at the head of — of the bed ; then some one kissed my forehead, and words were spoken — I know not what words. The bitter dreams left me for the bitterer reality at last ; for I had found him that morning h-ing dead, only the morning after I had seen him when he had come back from his long absence — I had found him Ij'ing dead, with his hands crossed downwards, with his eyes closed, as though the angels had done that for him ; and now when I looked at him he still lay there, and Margaret knelt by him with her face touching his : she was not quivering now, her lips moved not at all as they had done just before ; and so, suddenly those words came to my mind which she had spoken when she kissed me, and which at the time I had only heard with my outward hearing, for she had said, ' Walter, farewell, and Christ 12 PROSE ROMANCES keep you ; but for me, I must be with him, for so I promised him last night that I would never leave him any more, and God will let me go.' And verily Margaret and Amyot did go, and left me very lonely and sad. It was just beneath the westernmost arch of the nave, there I carved their tomb : I was a long time carving it ; I did not think I should be so long at first, and I said, ' I shall die when I have finished carving it,' thinking that would be a very short time. But so it happened after I had carved those two whom I loved, lying with clasped hands like husband and wife above their tomb, that I could not yet leave carving it ; and so that I might be near them I became a monk, and used to sit in the choir and sing, thinking of the time when we should all be together again. And as I had time I used to go to the westernmost arch of the nave and work at the tomb that was there under the great, sweeping arch ; and in process of time I raised a marble canopy that reached quite up to the top of the arch, and I painted it too as fair as I could, and carved it all about with many flowers and histories, and in them I carved the faces of those I had known on earth (for I was not as one on earth now, but seemed quite away out of the world). And as I carved, sometimes the monks and other people too would come and gaze, and watch how the flowers grew ; and sometimes too as they gazed, they would weep for pity, knowing how all had been. So my life passed, and I lived in that abbey for twenty years after he died, till one morning, quite early, when they came into the church for matins, they found me lying dead, with my chisel in my hand, underneath the last lily of the tomb. A DREAM {Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, March 1856) I DREAMED once, that four men sat by the winter fire talking and telling tales, in a house that the wind howled round. And one of them, the eldest, said : ' When I was a boy, before you came to this land, that bar of red sand rock, which makes a fall in our river, had only just been formed ; for it used to stand above the river in a great cliff, tunnelled by a cave about midway between the green-growing grass and the green-flowing river ; and it fell one night, when you had not yet come to this land, no, nor your fathers. ' Now, concerning this cliff, or pike rather (for it was a tall slip of rock and not part of a range), many strange tales were told ; and my father used to saj^ that in his time many would have explored that cave, either from covetousness (expecting to find gold therein), or from that love of wonders which most young men have, but fear kept them back. Within the memory of man, however, some had entered, and, so men said, were never seen on earth again ; but my father said that the tales told concerning such, very far from deterring him (then quite a youth) from the quest of this cavern, made him all the more earnestly long to go ; so that one day in his fear, my grandfather, to prevent him, stabbed him in the shoulder, so that he was obliged to keep his bed for long ; and somehow he never went, and died at last without ever having seen the inside of the cavern. ' My father told me many wondrous tales about the place, whereof for a long time I have been able to remember nothing ; yet, by some means or another, a certain story has grown up in my heart, which I will tell you something of : a story which no living creature ever told me though I do not remember the time when 14 PROSE ROMANCES I knew it not. Yes, I will tell you some of it, not all perhaps, but as much as I am allowed to tell.' The man stopped and pondered awhile, leaning over the fire where the flames slept under the caked coal : he was an old man, and his hair was quite white. He spoke again presently. ' And I have fancied sometimes, that in some way, how I know not, I am mixed up with the strange story I am going to tell you.' Again he ceased, and gazed at the fire, bending his head down till his beard touched his knees ; then, rousing himself, said in a changed voice (for he had been speaking dreamily hitherto) : ' That strange-looking old house that you all know, with the limes and yew-trees before it, and the double line of very old yew-trees leading up from the gateway-tower to the porch — you know how no one will live there now because it is so eerie, and how even that bold bad lord that would come there, with his turbulent followers, was driven out in shame and disgrace by invisible agency. Well, in times past there dwelt in that house an old grey man, who was lord of that estate, his only daughter, and a j'oung man, a kind of distant cousin of the house, whom the lord had brought up from a boy, as he was the orphan of a kinsman who had fallen in combat in his quarrel. Now, as the young knight and the young lady were both beautiful and brave, and loved beauty and good things ardently, it was natural enough that they should discover as they grew up that they were in love with one another ; and afterwards, as they went on loving one another, it was, alas ! not unnatural that they should sometimes have half -quarrels, very few and far between indeed, and slight to lookers-on, even while they lasted, but nevertheless intensely bitter and unhappy to the principal parties thereto. I suppose their love then, whatever it has grown to since, was not so all-absorbing as to merge all differences of opinion and feeling, for again there were such differences then. So, upon a time it happened, just when a great war had arisen, and Lawrence (for that was the knight's name) was sitting and thinking of war, and his departure from home ; sitting there in a very grave, almost a stern A DREAM 15 mood, that Ella, his betrothed, came in, gay and sprightly in a humour that Lawrence often enough could little understand, and this time liked less than ever, yet the bare sight of her made him yearn for her full heart, which he was not to have yet ; so he caught her by the hand, and tried to draw her down to him, but she let her hand lie loose in his, and did not answer the pressure in which his heart flowed to hers ; then he arose and stood before her, face to face, but she drew back a little, yet he kissed her on the mouth and said, though a rising in his throat almost choked his voice, " Ella, are you sorry I am going ? " " Yea," she said, " and nay, for you will shout my name among the sword-flashes, and you will fight for me." " Yes," he said, " for love and duty, dearest." " For duty ? ah ! I think, Lawrence, if it were not for me, you would stay at home and watch the clouds, or sit under the linden trees singing dismal love ditties of your own making, dear knight : truly, if you turn out a great warrior, I too shall live in fame, for I am certainly the making of your desire to fight." He let drop his hands from her shoulders, where he had laid them, and said, with a faint flush over his face, " You wrong me, Ella, for, though I have never wished to fight for the mere love of fighting, and though," (and here again he flushed a little) " and though I am not, I well know, so free of the fear of death as a good man would be, yet for this duty's sake, which is really a higher love, Ella, love of God, I trust I would risk life, nay honour, even if not willingly, yet cheerfully at least." " Still duty, duty," she said ; " you lay, Law- rence, as many people do, most tress on the point where you are weakest ; moreover, those knights who in time past have done wild, mad things merely at their ladies' word, scarcely did so for duty ; for they owed their lives to their country surely, to the cause of good, and should not have risked them for a whim, and yet you praised them the other day." " Did I ? " said Lawrence ; " well, and in a way they were much to be praised, for even blind love and obedience is well ; but reasonable love, reasonable obedience is so far better as to be almost 16 , PROSE ROMANCES a different thing ; yet, I think, if the knights did well partly, the ladies did altogether ill : for if they had faith in their lovers, and did this merely from a mad longing to see them do ' noble ' deeds, then had they but little faith in God, Who can, and at His good pleasure does give time and opportunity to every man, if he will but watch for it, to serve Him with reasonable service, and gain love and all noble things in greater measure thereby : but if these ladies did as they did, that they might prove their knights, then surely did they lack faith both in God and man. I do not think that two friends even could live together on such terms but for lovers — ah ! Ella, Ella, why do you look so at me ? on this day, almost the last, we shall be together for long ; Ella, your face is changed, your eyes — O Christ ! help her and me, help her, good Lord." " Lawrence," she said, speaking quickly and in jerks, " dare you, for my sake, sleep this night in the cavern of the red pike ? for I say to you that, faithful or not, I doubt your courage." But she was startled when she saw him, and how the fiery blood rushed up to his forehead, then sank to his heart again, and his face became as pale as the face of a dead man : he looked at her and said, " Yes, Ella, I will go now ; for what matter where I go ? " He turned and moved toward the door ; he was almost gone, when that evil spirit left her, and she cried out aloud, passionately, eagerly : *' LawTence, Lawrence, come back once more, if only to strike me dead with your knightly sword." He hesitated, wavered, turned, and in another moment she was lying in his arms weeping into his hair. ' " And yet, Ella, the spoken word, the thought of our hearts cannot be recalled, I must go, and go this night too, only promise one thing." " Dearest what ? you are always right ! " " Love, you must promise that if I come not again by to-morrow at moonrise, you will go to the red pike, and, having entered the cavern, go where God leads you, and seek me, and never leave that quest, even if it end not but with death." " Lawrence, how your heart beats ! poor heart ! are you afraid that A DREAM 17 I shall hesitate to promise to perform that which is the only thing I could do ? I know I am not worthy to be with you, yet I must be with you in body or soul, or body and soul will die." They sat silent, and the birds sang in the garden of lilies beyond ; then said Ella again ; " Moreover, let us pray God to give us longer life, so that if our natural lives are short for the accomplish- ment of this quest, we may have more, yea, even many more lives." " He will, my Ella," said Lawrence, " and I think, nay, am sure that our wish will be granted ; and I, too, will add a prayer, but will ask it very humbly, namely, that he will give me another chance or more to fight in his cause, another life to live instead of this failure." " Let us pray too that we may meet, however long the time be before our meeting," she said : so they knelt down and prayed, hand fast locked in hand mean- time ; and afterwards they sat in that chamber facing the east, hard by the garden of lilies ; and the sun fell from his noontide light gradually, lengthening the shadows, and when he sank below the sky-line all the sky was faint, tender, crimson on a ground of blue ; the crimson faded too, and the moon began to rise, but when her golden rim first showed over the wooded hills, Lawrence arose ; they kissed one long trembling kiss, and then he went and armed himself ; and their lips did not meet again after that, for such a long, long time, so many weary years ; for he had said : " Ella, watch me from the porch, but touch me not again at this time ; only, when the moon shows level with the lily-heads, go into the porch and watch me from thence." ' And he was gone ; — you might have heard her heart beating while the moon very slowly rose, till it shone through the rose-covered trellises, level with the. lily heads ; then she went to the porch and stood there, — ' And she saw him walking down toward the gateway tower, clad in his mail coat, with a bright, crestless helmet on his head, and his trenchant sword newly grinded, girt to his side ; and she watched him going between the yew-trees, which began to throw shadows from the shining of the harvest moon. She stood there MORRIS Q 18 PROSE ROMANCES in the porch, and round by the corners of the eaves of it looked down towards her and the inside of the porch two serpent -dragons, carved in stone ; and on their scales, and about their leering eyes, grew the yellow lichen ; she shuddered as she saw them stare at her, and drew closer toward the half-open door ; she, standing there, clothed in white from her throat till over her feet, altogether ungirdled ; and her long yellow hair, without plait or band, fell down behind and lay along her shoulders, quietly, because the night was without wind, and she too was now standing scarcely moving a muscle. ' She gazed down the line of the yew-trees, and watched how, as he went for the most part with a firm step, he yet shrank somewhat from the shadows of the yews ; his long brown hair flowing downward, swayed with him as he walked ; and the golden threads inter- woven with it, as the fashion was with the warriors in those days, sparkled out from among it now and then ; and the faint, far-off moonlight lit up the waves of his mailcoat ; he walked fast, and was disappearing in the shadows of the trees near the moat, but turned before he was quite lost in them, and waved his ungauntletted hand ; then she heard the challenge of the warder, the falling of the drawbridge, the swing of the heavy wicket- gate on its hinges ; and, into the brightening lights, and deepening shadows of the moonlight he went from her sight ; and she left the porch and went to the chapel, all that night praying earnestly there. ' But he came not back again all the next day, and Ella wandered about that house pale, and fretting her heart away ; so when night came and the moon, she arrayed herself in that same raiment that she had worn on the night before, and went toward the river and the red pike. ' The broad moon shone right over it by the time she came to the river ; the pike rose up from the other side, and she thought at first that she would have to go back again, cross over the bridge, and so get to it ; but, glancing down on the river just as she turned, she saw a little boat fairly gilt and painted, and with a long A DREAM 19 slender paddle in it, lying on the water, stretching out its silken painter as the stream drew it downwards, she entered it, and taking the paddle made for the other side ; the moon meanwhile turning the eddies to silver over the dark green water : she landed beneath the shadow of that great pile of sandstone, where the grass grew green, and the flowers sprung fair right up to the foot of the bare barren rock ; it was cut in many steps till it reached the cave, which was overhung by creepers and matted grass ; the stream swept the boat downwards, and Ella, her heart beating so as almost to stop her breath, mounted the steps slowly, slowly. She reached at last the platform below the cave, and turning, gave a long gaze at the moonlit country ; " her last," she said ; then she moved, and the cave hid her as the water of the warm seas close over the pearl-diver. ' Just so the night before had it hidden Lawrence. And they never came back, they two :— never, the people say. I wonder what their love has grown to now ; ah ! they love, I know, but cannot find each other yet : I wonder also if they ever will.' So spoke Hugh the white-haired. But he who sat over against him, a soldier as it seemed, black-bearded, with wild grey eyes that his great brows hung over far ; he, while the others sat still, awed by some vague sense of spirits being very near them ; this man, Giles, cried out — ' Never ? old Hugh, it is not so. — Speak ! I cannot tell you how it happened, but I know it was not so, not so : — speak quick, Hugh ! tell us all, all ! ' ' Wait a little, my son, wait,' said Hugh ; ' the people indeed said they never came back again at all, but I, but I — Ah ! the time is long past over.' So he was silent, and sank his head on his breast, though his old thin lips moved, as if he talked softly to himself, and the light of past days flickered in his eyes. Meanwhile Giles sat with his hands clasped finger over finger, tightly, ' till the knuckles whitened ; ' his lips were pressed firmly together ; his breast heaved as though it would burst, as though it must be rid of its secret. Suddenly he sprang up, and in a voice that c 2 20 PROSE ROMANCES was a solemn chant, began : ' In full daylight, long ago, on a slumberously- wrathful, thunderous afternoon of summer ' ; — then across his chant ran the old man's shrill voice : ' On an October day, packed close with heavy-lying mist, which was more than mere autumn- mist ' : — the solemn stately chanting dropped, the shrill voice went on ; Giles sank down again, and Hugh standing there, swaying to and fro to the measured ringing of his own shrill voice, his long beard moving with him, said : — ' On such a day, warm, and stifling so that one could scarcely breathe even down by the sea-shore, I went from bed to bed in the hospital of the pest-laden city with my soothing draughts and medicines. And there went with me a holy woman, her face pale with much watching ; yet I think even without those same desolate lonely watchings her face would still have been pale. She was not beautiful, her face being somewhat peevish- looking ; apt, she seemed, to be made angry by trifles, and, even on her errand of mercy, she spoke roughly to those she tended : — no, she was not beautiful, yet I could not help gazing at her, for her eyes were very beautiful and looked out from her ugly face as a fair maiden might look from a grim prison between the window-bars of it. ' So, going through that hospital, I came to a bed at last, whereon lay one who had not been struck down by fever or plague, but had been smitten through the body with a sword by certain robbers, so that he had narrowly escaped death. Huge of frame, with stern suffering face he lay there ; and I came to him, and asked him of his hurt, and how he fared, while the day grew slowly toward even, in that pest-chamber looking toward the west ; the sister came to him soon and knelt down by his bed- side to tend him. ' Christ ! As the sun went down on that dim misty day, the clouds and the thickly-packed mist cleared off, to let him shine on us, on that chamber of woes and bitter unpurifying tears ; and the sunlight wrapped those two, the sick man and the ministering woman, shone on them — changed, changed utterly. Good Lord ! How was I A DREAM 21 strucTc dumlj, nay, almost blinded by that change ; for there — yes there, while no man but I wondered ; there, instead of the unloving nurse, knelt a wonderfully beautiful maiden, clothed all in white, and with long golden hair down her back. Tenderly she gazed at the wounded man, as her hands were put about his head, lifting it up from the pillow but a very little ; and he no longer the grim, strong wounded man, but fair, and in the first bloom of youth ; a bright polished helmet crowned his head, a mail coat flowed over his breast, and his hair streamed down long from his head, while from among it here and there shone out threads of gold. ' So they spake thus in a quiet tone : " Body and soul together again, Ella, love ; how long will it be now before the last time of all ? " " Long," she said, " but the years pass ; talk no more, dearest, but let us think only, for the time is short, and our bodies call up memories, change love to better even than it was in the old time." ' Silence so, while you might count a hundred, then with a great sigh : " Farewell, Ella, for long," — " Fare- well, Lawrence," and the sun sank, all was as before. ' But I stood at the foot of the bed pondering, till the sister coming to me, said : " Master Physician, this is no time for dreaming ; act — the patients are waiting, the fell sickness grows worse in this hot close air ; feel " — (and she swung open the casement), " the outer air is no fresher than the air inside ; the wind blows dead toward the w'est, coming from the stagnant marshes ; the sea is like a stagnant pool too, you can scarce hear the sound of the long, low surge breaking." I turned from her and went up to the sick man, and said : " Sir Knight, in spite of all the sickness about you, you yourself better strangely, and another month will see you with your sword girt to your side again." " Thanks, kind master Hugh," ho said, but impatiently, as if his mind were on other things, and he turned in his bed away from me restlessly. ' And till late that night I ministered to the sick in that hospital ; but when I went away, I walked down to 22 PROSE ROMANCES the sea, and paced there to and fro over the hard sand : and the moon showed bloody with the hot mist, which the sea would not take on its bosom, though the dull east wind blew it onward continually. I walked there pondering till a noise from over the sea made me turn and look that way ; what was that coming over the sea ? Laus Deo ! the west wind : Hurrah ! I feel the joy I felt then over again now, in all its intensity. How came it over the sea ? first, far out to sea, so that it was only just visible under the red-gleaming moonlight, far out to sea, while the mists above grew troubled, and wavered, a long level bar of white ; it grew nearer quickly, it rushed on toward me fearfully fast, it gathered form, strange, misty, intricate form — the ravelled foam of the green sea ; then oh i hurrah ! I was wrapped in it, — the cold salt spray — drenched with it, blinded by it, and when I could see again, I saw the great green waves rising, nodding and breaking, all coming on together ; and over them from wave to wave leaped the joyous WEST WIND ; and the mist and the plague clouds were sweeping back eastward in wild swirls ; and right away were they swept at last, till they brooded over the face of the dismal stagnant meres, many miles away from our fair city, and there they pondered wrathfully on their defeat. ' But somehow my life changed from the time when I beheld the two lovers, and I grew old quickly.' He ceased ; then after a short silence said again ; ' And that was long ago, very long ago, I know not when it happened.' So he sank back again, and for a while no one spoke ; till Giles said at last : ' Once in full daylight I saw a vision, while I was waking, while the eyes of men were upon me : long ago on the afternoon of a thunderous summer day, I sat alone in my fair garden near the city ; for on that day a mighty reward was to be given to the brave man who had saved us all, leading us so mightily in that battle a few days back ; now the very queen, the lady of the land, whom all men reverenced almost as the Virgin A DREAM 23 Mother, so kind and good and beautiful she was, was to crown him with flowers and gird a sword about him ; after the " Te Deum " had been sung for the victory, and ahnost all the city were at that time either in the Church, or hard by it, or else were by the hill that was near the river where the crowning was to be : but I sat alone in the garden of ray house as I said ; sat grieving for the loss of my brave brother, who was slain by my side in that same fight. ' I sat beneath an elm tree ; and as I sat and pondered on that still, windless day, I heard suddenly a breath of air rustle through the boughs of the elm. I looked up, and my heart almost stopped beating, I knew not why, as I watched the path of that breeze over the bowing lilies and the rushes by the fountain ; but when I looked to the place whence the breeze had come, I became all at once aware of an appearance that told me why my heart stopped beating. Ah ! there they were, those two whom before I had but seen in dreams by night, now before my waking eyes in broad daylight. One, a knight (for so he seemed), with long hair mingled with golden threads, flowing over his mail-coat, and a bright crestless helmet on his head, his face sad-looking, but calm ; and by his side, but not touching him, walked a wondrously fair maiden, clad in white, her eyelids just shadowing her blue eyes : her arms and hands seeming to float along with her as she moved on quickly, yet very softly ; great rest on them both, though sorrow gleamed through it. ' When they came opposite to where I stood, these two stopped for a while, being in nowise shadowy, as I have heard men say ghosts are, but clear and distinct. They stopped close by me, as I stood motionless, unable to pray ; they turned to each other, face to face, and the maiden said, " Love, for this our last true meeting before the end of all, we need a witness ; let this man, softened by sorrow, even as we are, go with us." ' I never heard such music as her words were ; though I used to wonder when I was young whether the angels in heaven sung better than the choristers sang in our 24 PROSE ROMANCES church, and though, even then the sound of the trium- phant hymn came up to me in a breath of wind, and floated round me, making dreams, in that moment of awe and great dread, of the old long-past days in that old church, of her who lay under the pavement of it ; whose sweet voice once, once long ago, once only to me — yet I shall see her again.' He became silent as he sai(f this, and no man cared to break in upon his thoughts, seeing the choking movement in his throat, the fierce clenching of hand and foot, the stiffening of the muscles all over him ; but soon, with an upward jerk of his head, he threw back the long elf locks that had fallen over his eyes while his head was bent down, and went on as before : ' The knight passed his hand across his brow, as if to clear away some mist that had gathered there, and said, in a deep murmurous voice, " Why the last time, dearest, why the last time ? Know you not how long a time remains yet ? the old man came last night to the ivory house and told me it would be a hundred years, ay, more, before the happy end." " So long," she said ; " so long ; ah ! love, what things words are ; yet this is the last time ; alas ! alas ! for the weary years ! my words, my sin ! " " O love, it is very terrible," he said ; "I could almost weep, old though I am; and grown cold with dwelling in the ivory house : O, Ella, if you only knew how cold it is there, in the starry nights when the north wind is stirring ; and there is no fair colour there, naught but the white ivory, with one narrow line of gleaming gold over every window, and a fathom's-breadth of burnished gold behind the throne. Ella, it was scarce well done of you to send me to the ivory house." " Is it so cold, love ? " she said, " I knew it not ; forgive me ! but as to the matter of a witness, some one we must have, and why not this man ? " " Rather old Hugh," he said, " or Cuthbert, his father ; they have both been witnesses before." " Cuthbert," said the maiden, solemnly, " has been dead twenty years ; Hugh died last night." ' (Now, as Giles said these words, carelessly, as though not heeding them particularly, a cold sickening A DREAM 25 shudder ran through the other two men, but he noted i^ not and went on.) ' " This man then be it," said the knight, and therewith they turned again, and moved on side by side as before ; nor said they any word to me, and yet I could not help following them, and we three moved on together, and soon I saw that my nature was changed, and that I was invisible for the time ; for, though the sun was high, I cast no shadow, neither did any man that we past notice us, as we made toward the hill by the riverside. ' And by the time we came there the queen was sitting at the top of it, under a throne of purple and gold, with a great band of knights gloriously armed on either side of her ; and their many banners floated over them. Then I felt that those two had left me, and that my own right visible nature was returned ; yet still did I feel strange, and as if I belonged not wholly to this earth. And I heard one say, in a low voice to his fellow, " See, sir Giles is here after all ; yet, how came he here, and why is he not in armour among the noble knights yonder, he who fought so well ? How wild he looks too ! " " Poor knight," said the other, " he is distraught with the loss of his brother ; let him be ; and see, here comes the noble stranger knight, our deliverer." As he spoke, we heard a great sound of trumpets, and therewithal a long line of knights on foot wound up the hill towards the throne, and the queen rose up, and the people shouted ; and, at the end of all the procession went slowly and majestically the stranger knight ; a man of noble presence he was, calm, and graceful to look on ; grandly he went amid the gleaming of their golden armour ; himself clad in the rent mail and tattered surcoat he had worn on the battle-day ; bareheaded, too ; for, in that fierce fight, in the thickest of it, just where he rallied our men, one smote off his helmet, and another, coming from behind, would have slain him, but that my lance bit into his breast. ' So, when they had come within some twenty paces of the throne, the rest halted, and he went up by himself toward the queen ; and she, taking the golden hilted 26 PROSE ROMANCES sword in her left hand, with her right hand caught him by the wrist, when he would have knelt to her, and held him so, tremblingly, and cried out, " No, no, thou noblest of all knights, kneel not to me ; have we not heard of thee even before thou camest hither ? how many widows bless thee, how many orphans pray for thee, how many happy ones that would be widows and orphans but for thee, sing to their children, sing to their sisters, of thy flashing sword, and the heart that guides it ! And now, noble one ! thou hast done the very noblest deed of all, for thou hast kept grown men from weeping shameful tears ! Oh truly ! the greatest I can do for thee is ver}^ little ; yet, see this sword, golden- hilted, and the stones flash out from it," (then she hung it round him) " and see this wreath of lilies and roses for thy head ; lilies no whiter than thy pure heart, roses no tenderer than thy true love ; and here, before all these my subjects, I fold thee, noblest, in my arms, so, so." Ay, truly it was strange enough ! those two were together again ; not the queen and the stranger knight, but the young-seeming knight and the maiden I had seen in the garden. To my eyes they clung together there ; though they say, that to the eyes of all else, it was but for a moment that the queen held both his hands in hers ; to me also, amid the shouting of the multitude, came an under current of happy song : " Oh ! truly, very truly, my noblest, a hundred years will not be long after this." " Hush ! Ella, dearest, for talking makes the time speed ; think only." ' Pressed close to each other, as I saw it, their bosoms heaved — but I looked away — alas ! when I looked again, I saw nought but the stately stranger knight, descending, hand in hand, with the queen, flushed with joy and triumph, and the people scattering flowers before them. ' And that was long ago, very long ago.' So he ceased ; then Osric, one of the two younger men, who had been sitting in awe-struck silence all this time, said, with eyes that dared not meet Giles's, in a terrified half whisper, as though he meant not to speak, ' How long ? ' Giles turned round and looked him full in the face, till he A DREAM 27 dragged his eyes up to his own, then said, ' More than a hundred years ago.' So they all sart silent, listening to the roar of the south-west wind ; and it blew the windows so, that they rocked in their frames. Then suddenly, as they sat thus, came a knock at the door of the house ; so Hugh bowed his head to Osric, to signify that he should go and open the door ; so he arose, trembling, and went. And as he opened the door the wind blew hard against him, and blew something white against his face, then blew it away again, and his face was blanched, even to his lips ; but he plucking up heart of grace, looked out, and there he saw, standing with her face upturned in speech to him, a wonderfully beautiful woman, clothed from her throat till over her feet in long white raiment, ungirt, unbroidered, and with a long veil, that was thrown off from her face, and hung from her head, streaming out in the blast of the wind ; which veil was what had struck against his face : beneath her veil her golden hair streamed out too, and with the veil, so that it touched his face now and then. She was very fair, but she did not look young either, because of her statue-like features. She spoke to him slowly and queenly ; ' I pray you give me shelter in your house for an hour, that I may rest, and so go on my journey again.' He was too much terrified to answer in words, and so only bowed his head ; and she swept past him in stately wise to the room where the others sat, and he followed her, trembling. A cold shiver ran through the other men when she entered and bowed low to them, and they turned deadly pale, but dared not move ; and there she sat while they gazed at her, sitting there and wondering at her beauty, which seemed to grow every minute ; though she was plainly not young, oh no, but rather very, very old, who could say how old ? there she sat, and her long, long hair swept down in one curve from her head, and just touched the floor. Her face had the tokens of a deep sorrow on it, ah ! a mighty sorrow, yet not so mighty 28 PROSE ROMANCES as that it might mar her ineffable loveliness ; that sorrow-mark seemed to gather too, and at last the gloriously-slow music of her words flowed from her lips : ' Friends, has one with the appearance of a youth come here lately ; one with long brown hair, interwoven with threads of gold, flowing down from out of his polished steel helmet ; with dark blue eyes and high white fore- head, and mail-coat over his breast, where the light and shadow lie in waves as he moves ; have you seen such an one, very beautiful ? ' Then withal as they shook their heads fearfully in answer, a great sigh rose up from her heart, and she said : ' Then must I go away again presently, and yet I thought it was the last night of all.' And so she sat awhile with her head resting on her hand ; after, she arose as if about to go, and turned her glorious head round to thank the master of the house ; and they, strangely enough, though they were terrified at her presence, were yet grieved when they saw that she was going. Just then the wind rose higher than ever before, yet through the roar of it they could all hear plainly a knock- ing at the door again ; so the lady stopped when she heard it, and, turning, looked full in the face of Herman the youngest, who thereupon, being constrained by that look, rose and went to the door ; and as before with Osric, so now the wind blew strong against him ; and it blew into his face, so as to blind him, tresses of soft brown hair mingled with glittering threads of gold ; and blinded so, he heard some one ask him musically, solemnly, if a lady with golden hair and white raiment was in that house ; so Herman, not answering in words, because of his awe and fear, merely bowed his head ; then he was 'ware of some one in bright armour passing him, for the gleam of it was all about him, for as yet he could not see clearly, being blinded by the hair that had floated about him. But presently he followed him into the room, and there stood such an one as the lady had described ; the wavering flame of the light gleamed from his polished A DREAM 29 helmet, touched the golden threads that mingled with his hair, ran along the rings of his mail. They stood opposite to each other for a little, he and the lady, as if they were somewhat shy of each other after their parting of a hmidred years, in spite of the love which they had for each other : at last he made one step, and took off his gleaming helmet, laid it down softly, then spread abroad his arms, and she came to him, and they were clasped together, her head lying over his shoulder ; and the four men gazed, quite awe-struck. And as they gazed, the bells of the church began to ring, for it was New-Year's-eve ; and still they clung together, and the bells rang on, and the old year died. And there beneath the eyes of those four men the lovers slowly faded away into a heap of snow-white ashes. Then the four men kneeled down and prayed, and the next day they went to the priest, and told him all that had happened. So the people took those ashes and buried them in their church, in a marble tomb, and above it they caused to be carved their figures lying with clasped hands ; and on the sides of it the history of the cave in the red pike. And in my dream I saw the moon shining on the tomb, throwing fair colours on it from the painted glass ; till a sound of music rose, deepened, and fainted ; then I woke. No memory labours longer from the deep Gold mines of thought to lift the hidden ore That glimpses, moving up, than I from sleep To gather and tell o'er Each little sound and sight. FRANK'S SEALED LETTER {Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, April 1856) Ever since I can remember, even when I was quite a child, people have always told me that I had no perseverance, no strength of will ; they have always kept on saying to me, directly and indirectly, ' Unstable as water thou shalt not excel ' ; and they have always been quite wrong in this matter, for of all men I ever heard of, I have the strongest will for good and evil. I could soon find out whether a thing were possible or not to me ; then if it were not, I threw it away for ever, never thought of it again, no regret, no longing for that, it was past, and over to me ; but if it were possible, and I made up my mind to do it, then and there I began it, and in due time finished it, turning neither to the right hand nor the left, till it was done. So I did with all things that I set my hand to. Love only, and the wild restless passions that went with it, were too strong for me, and they bent my strong will, so that people think me now a weak man, with no end to make for in the purposeless wanderings of my life. Yes, my life is purposeless now. I have failed, I know, but I know that I have fought too ; I know the weary struggle from day to day, in which, with my loins girded, and my muscles all a-strain, I have fought, while years and years have passed away. I know what they do not, how that Passion trembled in my grasp, shook, staggered: how I grew stronger and stronger ; till when, as I stood at last quivering with collected force, the light of victory across my lips and brow, God's hand struck me, and I fell at once, and without remedy ; and am now a van- quished man ; and really without any object in life, not desiring death any more than life, or life any more than death ; a vanquished man, though no coward ; forlorn, hopeless, unloved, living now altogether in the past. I will tell you how I fell, and then I jjray you all to FRANK'S SEALED LETTER 31 pity me, and if you can, love me, and pray for me that I may be forgiven. I said, when I left her that day, that I would forget her, look upon her as if she had never been ; coming and going to and from that house, indeed, seeing her often, talking to her, as to any other friendly and accomplished lady ; but seeing Mabel, my Mabel, that had been, no more. She was dead, and the twenty years that I had lived with her, man and boy, and little child, were gone — dead too, and forgotten. No shadow of them should rest upon my path, I said. Meantime the world wanted help ; I was strong and willing, and would help it. I saw all about me men without a leader, looking and yearning for one to come and help them. I would be that leader, I said ; there was no reason for me to be bitter and misanthropical, for I could forget the past utterly, could foe another man in short. Why ! I never loved that woman there, with her heavy, sweeping, black hair, and dreamily-passionate eyes ; that was some one past away long ago. Who knows when he lived ? but I am the man that knows, that feels all poetry and art, that can create, that can sympathize with every man and woman that ever lived — even with that cold, proud woman there, without a heart, but with heavy, sweeping hair, and great dreamily-passionate eyes, which might cause a weak man to love her. Yes, I said so when I left her — nay, even before I left her, for in my agonized pleading I had said words that made her cold, selfish blood run quick enough to speak scornful things to me. ' Mabel ! ' I said, ' Mabel ! think awhile before you turn from me for ever ! Am I not good enough for you ? Yet tell me, I pray you, for God's sake, what you would have me do ? what you would have me make myself, and I will do that thing, make myself such, whatever it is. Think how long I have worshipped you, looked on all the world through your eyes. I loved you as soon as I saw you, even when I was a child, before I had reason almost ; and my love and my reason have grown together, till now. Oh ! Mabel, think of the things we have talked of together, thought of together ! Will 32 PROSE ROMANCES you ever find another man who thinks the same as you do in everything ? Nay, but you must love me. Such letters you have written me too ! Oh ! Mabel, Mabel, I know God will never let love like mine go unrequited. You love me, I know. I am sure of it ; you are trying me only ; let it be enough now, my own Mabel, the only one that loves me. See, do not I love you enough ? ' I fell there before her feet. I caught the hem of her garment. I buried my face in its folds ; madly I strove to convince myself that she was but trying me, that she could not speak for her deep love, that it was a dream only. Oh ! how I tried to wake, to find myself, with my heart beating wildly, and the black night round me, lying on my bed ; as often, when a child, I used to wake from a dream of lions, and robbers, and ugly deaths, and the devil, to find myself in the dear room, though it was dark, my heart bounding with the fear of pursuit and joy of escape. But no dream breaks now, desperate, desperate, earnest. The dreams have closed round me, and become the dismallest reality, as I often used to fear those other dreams might ; the walls of this fact are closed round about "me now like the sides of an iron chest, hurrying on down some swift river, with the black water above, to the measureless, rolling sea. I shall never any more wake to anything but that. For listen to what she said, you who are happy lovers. Can you believe it ? I can scarce do so myself. I, not looking up from where I lay, felt her lips curl into a cruel smile, as she drew herself from my grasp, and said : ' Listen, Hugh. I call you "Hugh", by the way, not because I am fond of you, but because surnames never seemed to me to express anything ; they are quite mean- ingless. Hugh, I never loved you, never shall, nay, something more. I am not quite sure that I do not hate you, for coming to claim me as a right in this way, and appealing to God against me. Who gave you any right to be lord over me, and question my heart ? Why, for this long time I have seen that you would claim me at last, and your " love," which I now cast from me for FRANK'S SEALED LETTER 33 ever, and trample upon, so — so, — your " love ", I say, has ijeen a bitterly heavy burden to me, dogging me up and down, everywhere. You think my thoughts ? Yes, verily, you who think yourself the teacher of such an one as I am, have few thoughts of your own to think. What do I want better than you ? Why, I want a man who is brave and beautiful. You are a coward and a cripple. Am I trying you ? No, Hugh ; there is no need for that. I think I know you well enough, weak and irresolute, you will never do anything great. I must marry a great man — White honour shall be like a plaything to him. Borne lightly, a pet falcon on his wrist : One who can feel the very pulse o' the time. Instant to act, to plunge into the strife. And with a strong arm hold the rearing world.' But before she had begun to quote, mylife had changed. While I lay there, in I know not what agony, that which I have just said came suddenly across me. I became calm all at once. I began to bend my passion beneath my strong will ; the fight I fought so bravely had begun. I rose up quietly before she began to quote, and when she saw me standing there, so calmly, ay, and looking so brave too, though I was a 'cripple and a coward ', she quailed before me, her voice fell, even in the midst of her scornful speech ; then I thought, ' so cool, and can quote pretty verses at such a time ! Oh ! but my revenge is good, and sure too, it is almost as if I killed her, stabbed her to the heart, here in this room.' Then my heart grew quite obedient, and my purpose began to work, so that I could speak with no shadow of passion in my words, and with no forced unnatural calm either. I could seem, and for years and years did seem, to be no hard cold man of the world, no mere calculating machine for gauging God's earth by modern science ; but a kindly genial man ; though so full of knowledge, yet having room for love too, and enthusiasm, and faith. Ah ! they who saw me as such did not see the fight, did not see that bitter passage in the room of the old house at Riston, where the river widens. MORRIS T» 34 PROSE ROMANCES I stood there silent for a very short time ; then, raising my eyes to hers, said, ' Well, Mabel, I shall go up to London, and see the publishers, and perhaps stay there a day or two, so that I shall probably be back again at Casley by Tuesday ; and I daresay I shall find time to walk over to Riston on Wednesday or Thursday, to tell you what we have determined on — good bye.' She trembled, and turned pale, as I gave her my hand, and said, ' good bye ', in a forced tone, that was in strong contrast to my natural-seeming calmness. She was frightened of me then, already. Good. So I walked away from Riston to my own house at Casley (which was about two miles from Riston), and got ready to start for London ; then, about an hour after I had parted from her, set out again across the fields to the railway, that was five miles from my house. It was on the afternoon of a lovely spring day ; I took a book with me, a volume of poems just published, and my dead friend's manuscript ; for my purpose in going to London was to see to its publication. Then, looking at that over which so many years of toil and agony of striving had been spent, I thought of him who wrote it ; thought how admirable he was, how that glorious calm purpose of his shone through all his restless energy. I thought, too, as I had never done before, of the many, many ways he had helped me, and my eyes filled with tears, as I remembered remorsefully the slight return I had given him for his affection, my forgetfulness of him in the years when I was happy. I thought of his quiet, successful love, and that sweet wife of his, the poor widow that was now, who lived at Florence, watching the shadows come and go on her husband's tomb, the rain that washed it, the sun and moon that shone on it ; then how he had died at Florence, and of the short letter he had written to me, or rather that had been written, just before his death, by his wife, from his dictation, and stained with the many tears of the poor heart-broken lady. Those farewell words that threw but a slight shadow over the happy days when I loved Mabel, had more weight now, both for sorrow FRANK'S SEALED LETTER 35 and consolation ; for the thought that that dead man eared for me surely did me good, made me think more of the unseen world, less of the terrible earth-world that seemed all going wrong, and which the unseen was slowly righting. I had the letter with me at that very time. I had taken it out with the manuscript, and together with that, another, a sealed letter that came with it, and which, according to the dying man's wish, I had never yet opened. I took out both the letters, and turning aside from the path sat down under a willow by the side of the river, a willow just growing grey-green with the spring. And there, to the music of the west wind through the slim boughs, to the very faint music of the river's flow, I read the two letters, and first the one I had read before. ' Dear friend, I am going the last journey, and I wish to say farewell before I go. My wife's tears fall fast, as she writes, and I am sorry to go, though, I think, not afraid to die. Two things I want to say to you : the first and least has to do with my writings ; I do not wish them to perish : you know I wrote, thinking I might do some one good ; will you see about this for me ? Do you know, Hugh, I never cared for any man so much as for you : there was something which drew me to you wonderfully ; it used to trouble me sometimes to think that you scarcely cared for me so much ; but only sometimes, for I saw that you knew this, and tried to love me more ; it was not your fault that you could not ; God bless you for the trying even ! When you see my wife, be kind to her ; we have had happy talk about you often, thinkingwhat a great man you ought to be. Yet one thing more. I send you with this a sealed enclosure. On the day that you are married to Mabel, or on the day that she dies, still loving you, burn this unopened ; but, oh friend, if such a misfortune happen to you, as I scarce dare hint at even, then open it, and read it for the sake of, Frank.' Then I remembered, sadly, how when I read this, I was angry at first, even with the dead man, for his D 2 36 PROSE ROMANCES suspicion ; only, when I thought of him dying, and how loving he was, my anger quickly sunk into regret for him ; not deep anguish, but quiet regret. Ah ! what a long time it was since I loved Mabel ! how I had conquered my raging passion ! Frank will svu'ely applaud my resolution. Dear heart ! how wise he was in his loving simplicity. I looked at the sealed letter ; it also was directed in his wife's handwriting ; I broke the seal, and saw Frank's writing there ; it was written, therefore, some time before his death. How solemn the wind was through the willow boughs, how solemn the faint sound of the swirls of the lowland river ! I read — ' Hugh, Hugh ! poor wounded heart ! I saw it all along, that she was not worthy of that heart stored up with so much love. I do not ask for that love, dear friend ; I know you cannot give it me ; I was never jealous of her ; and I know, moreover, that your love for her will not be wasted. I think, for my part, that there is One Who gathers up all such wandering love, and keeps it for Himself ; think, Hugh, of those many weary hours on the Cross ; in that way did they requite His Love then, and how do we requite it now ? Should He not then sympathize with all those whose love is not returned ? ' And, Hugh, sweet friend, I pray you, for Christ's love, never strive to forget the love you bore her in the days when you thought her noble, the noblest of all things, never cast away the gift of memory ; never cast it away for your ease, never even for the better serving of God ; He will help Himself, and does not want mere deeds ; you are weak, and love cannot live without memory. Oh ! Hugh ! if you do as I pray you, this remembered love will be a very bright crown to you up in Heaven ; meantime, may it not be that your love for others will grow, that you will love all men more, and me, perhaps, even much more ? And I, though I never see you again in the body till the Day of Doom, will nevertheless be near you in spirit, to comfort you some- FRANK'S SEALED LETTER 37 what through the days of your toiling on earth ; and now, Frank prays God to bless poor wounded Hugh ! ' I ceased reading ; a dull pain came about my forehead and eyes. What ! must I be all alone in my struggle with passion ? not even Frank to help me ? dear fellow ! to think how fond he was of me ! I am very very sorry he cannot be with me in this fight ; for I must kill her utterly in my memory, and I think, if he knew all, how very noble I thought her, how altogether base she really is, he would be with me after all. Yet, Frank, though I do not do this that you pray me to do, you shall still be my friend, will you not ? you shall help me to become more like you, if that is possible in any degree. So, I determined to forget her ; and was I not success- ful, at first ; ah ! and for long too ? nevertheless, alas ! alas ! Frank's memory faded with her memory, and I did not feel his spirit by me often, only sometimes, and those were my weakest times, when I was least fit to have him by me ; . for then my purpose would give in somewhat, and memory would come to me, not clear and distinct, but only as a dull pain about my eyes and forehead ; but my strong will could banish that, for I had much work to do, trying to help my fellow-men, with all my heart I thought. I threw myself heart and soul into that work, and joy grew up in mj^ soul ; and I was proud to think that she had not exhausted the world for me. Nor did I shrink once from the sight of her, but came often, and saw her at her father's house at Riston, that the broadening river flows by always ; nay, I sat at her wedding, and saw her go up to the altar with firm step, and heard her say her part in the unfaltering music of her rich voice, wherein was neither doubt nor love ; and there I prayed that the brave noble-hearted soldier, her husband, might be happy with her. feeling no jealousy of him, pitying him rather ; for I did not think that it was in her nature to love any one but herself thoroughly. Yet, what a Queen she looked on that marriage-day ! her black hair crowning her so, her great deep eyes looking so full of all slumbering passion as of old, her 38 PROSE ROMANCES full lips underneath, whence the music came ; and, as she walked there between the grey walls of that Abbey where they were married, the light fell on her through the jewel-like windows, colouring strangely the white and gold of her gorgeous robes. She also seemed, or wished to seem, to have forgotten that spring-day at Riston ; at least, she spoke to me when she went away quite kindly, and very calmly : ' Good bye, Hugh, we hear of you already ; you will be a great man soon, and a good man you always were, and always will be ; and we shall think of you often, and always with pleasure.' Yet I knew she hated me ; oh ! her hollow heart ! The dull pain came about my forehead and eyes ; some- how I could not keep up the farce just then. I spoke bitterly, a smile that I know now I should not have smiled, curling my lip. ' Well done, Mabel ! it is a nicely composed parting speech to an old friend ; but you were always good at that kind of thing. Forget you ? no — you are too handsome for that ; and, if I were a painter or sculptor, I would paint you or carve you from memory. As it is, I never forget beautiful faces — good bye : ' and I turned away from her a little without giving my hand. She grew pale at first, then flushed bright crimson, like a stormy sky, and turned from me with a scornful devil's glance. She was gone, and a sharp pang of memory shot through me for a single instant, a warning of my fall which was to be. For a single instant I saw her sitting there, as of old, in the garden hard by the river, under the gold-dropping laburnums, heard her for a single instant singing wildly in her magnificent voice, as of old : 'Wearily, drearily. Half the day long. Flap the great banners High over the stone ; Strangely and eerily Sounds the wind's song, Bending the banner-poles. 'While, all alone, Watching the loophole's spark. Lie I, with life all dark. FRANK'S SEALED LETTER 39 Feet tether'd, hands fetter'd Fast to the stone. The grim walls, square letter'd With prison'd men's groan, ' Still strain the banner-poles Through the wind's song. Westward the banner rolls Over my wrong.' But it was gone directly, that pang ; everything, voice, face, and all : like the topmost twigs of some great tree-limb, that, as it rolls round and round, griding the gravel and mud at the bottom of a flooded river, shows doubtfully for a second, flashing wet in the February sunlight, then, sinking straightway, goes rolling on toward the sea, in the swift steady flow of the flooded river ; yet it appears again often, till it is washed ashore at last, who knows where or when ? But for me, these pangs of memory did not come often ; nay, they came less and less frequently for long, till at last, in full triumph, as I thought it, I fell. That marriage-day was more than two years after the day in April that I have told you of, when I read the sealed letter ; then, for three years after her marriage, I went on working, famous now, with many who almost wor- shipped me, for the words I had said, the many things I had taught them ; and I in return, verily loved these earnestly ; yet, round about me clung some shadow that was not the mere dulled memory of what had been, and it deepened sometimes in my drearier moods into fearful doubts that this last five years of my life had been, after all, a mistake, a miserable failure ; yet, still I had too much to do to go on doubting for long ; so these shadowy doubts had to hold back till, though I knew it not, a whole army of them was marching upon me in my fancied security. Well, it was Spring-time, just about five years from that day ; I was living in London, and for the last few months had been working very hard indeed, writing and reading all day long and every day, often all night long also, and in those nights the hours would pass so quickly 40 PROSE ROMANCES that the time between night-fall and dawn scarcely seemed ten minutes long. So I worked, worked so hard, that one day, one morning early, when I saw through my window, on .waking about six o'clock, how blue the sky was, even above the London roofs, and remembered how, in the fields all about, it was the cowslip time of the year, I said to myself, ' No work to-day ; I will make holiday for once in the sweet spring-time. I will take a book with some tale in it, go into the country, and read it there, not striving particularly to remember it, but enjoying myself only.' And, as I said this, my heart beat with joy, like a boy's at thought of holiday. So I got up, and as I was dressing, I took up a volume of Shakespeare, and opened it at Troilus and Cressida, and read a line or two just at the place where the parting comes ; it almost brought the tears to my eyes. ' How soft-hearted I am this morning,' I said ; ' yet I will take this ; and read it ; it is quite a long time since I read any Shakespeare, and, I think, years and years since I have read Troilus and Cressida.' Yes, I was soft- hearted that morning, and when I looked in the glass and saw my puny deformed figure there, and my sallow thin face, eaten into many furrows by those five years, those furrows that gave a strange grotesque piteousness to the ugly features, I smiled at first, then almost wept for self-pity ; the tears were in my eyes again ; but I thought, ' I will not spoil my holiday,' and so forbore ; then I went out into the streets, with a certain kind of light-heartedness, which I knew might turn any moment into very deep sadness. The bells of a church, that I passed in my way Essex-ward, were ringing, and their music struck upon my heart so, that I walked the faster to get beyond their sound. I was in the country soon : people called it an ugly country, I knew, that spreading of the broad marsh lands round the river Lea ; but I was so weary with my hard work that it seemed very lovely to me then ; indeed, I think I should not have despised it at any time. I was always a lover of the sad lowland country. I walked on, my mind keeping up a strange balance between joy and FRANK'S SEALED LETTER 41 sadness for some time, till gradually all the beauty of things seemed to be stealing into my heart, and making me very soft and womanish, so that, at last, when I was now quite a long way off from the river Lea, and walking close by the side of another little river, a mere brook, all my heart was filled with sadness, and joy had no place there at all ; all the songs of birds ringing through the hedges, and about the willows ; all the sweet colours of the sky, and the clouds that floated in the blue of it ; of the tender fresh grass, and the sweet young shoots of flowering things, were very pensive to me, pleasantly so at first perhaps, but soon they were lying heavy on me, with all the rest of things created ; for within my heart rose memory, green and fresh as the young spring leaves. Ah ! such thoughts of the old times came about me thronging, that they almost made me faint. I tried hard to shake them off ; I noticed every turn of the banks of the little brook, every ripple of its waters over the brown stones, every line of the broad-leaved water- flowers ; I went down towards the brook, and, stooping down, gathered a knot of lush marsh-marigolds ; then, kneeling on both knees, bent over the water with my arm stretched down to it, till both my hand and the yellow flowers were making the swift-running little stream bubble about them ; and, even as I did so, still stronger and stronger came the memories, till they came quite clear at last, those shapes and words of the past days. I rose from the water in haste, and, getting on to the road again, walked along tremblingly, ray head bent toward the earth, my wet hand and flowers marking the dust of it as I went. Ah ! what was it all, that picture of the old past days. I see a little girl sitting on the grass, beneath the limes in the hot summer-tide, with eyes fixed on the far away blue hills, and seeing who knows what shapes there ; for the boy by her side is reading to her wondrous stories of knight and lady, and fairy thing, that lived in the ancient days ; his voice trembles as he reads — ' And so Sir Isumbras, when he had slain the giant, cut off his head, and came to the town where the lady 42 PROSE ROMANCES Alicia lived, bringing with him that grim thing, the giant's head, and the people pressed all about him at the gate, and brought him to the king, and all the court was there, and the whole palace blazed with gold and jewels. So there, among the ladies, was the Lady Alicia, clothed in black, because she thought that through her evil pride she had caused the death of the good knight and true, who loved her : and when she saw Sir Isumbras with the head of the giant, even before the king, and all, she gave a great cry, and ran before all, and threw her arms round about him.' ' Go on, Hugh,' says the little girl, still looking into the blue distance, ' why do you stop ? ' 'I was — I was looking at the picture, Mabel,' says the boy. ' Oh ! is there a picture of that ? let's see it ; ' and her eyes turn towards him at last. What a very beautiful child she is ! ' Not exactly of that,' says Hugh, blushing as their eyes meet, and, when she looks away for a second, drawing his hand across his eyes, for he is soft-hearted, ' not exactly of that, but afterwards, where she crowns him at the tournament ; here it is.' ' Oh ! that is pretty though ; Hugh, I say Hugh ! ' ' Yes,' says Hugh. ' Go and get me some of the forget- me-not down by the brook there, and some of the pretty white star-shaped flower ; I'll crown you too.' Off runs Hugh, directly, carrying the book with him. ' Stop, don't lose the place, Hugh ; here, give me the book.' Back he goes, then starts again in a great hurry ; the flowers are not easy to get, but they are got somehow ; for, Hugh, though deformed, is yet tolerably active, and for her. So, when the flowers come, she weaves them into a crown, blue flowers golden-hearted, and white ones star-shaped, with the green leaves between them. Then she makes him kneel down, and, looking at the picture in the fairy story-book, places him this way and that, with her smooth brows knit into a puzzled frown ; at last she says, ' It wont do somehow ; I can't make it out. I say, Hugh,' she blurts out at last, ' I tell you what, it wont do ; you are too ugly.' ' Never mind, Mabel,' he says ; ' shall I go on reading again ? ' ' Yes, you may go on.' Then she sits down ; and again her FRANK'S SEALED LETTER 43 eyes are fixed on the far-away blue hills, and Hugh is by her, reading again, only stumbling sometimes, seem- ingly not so much interested as he was before. ' Poor Hugh ! ' I said out aloud, for strangely, the thing was so strong, that it had almost wrought its own cure ; and I found myself looking at my old self, and at her, as at people in a story ; yet I was stunned as it were, and knew well that I was incapable of resistance against that memory now. Yes, I knew well what was coming. < I had by this time left the brook, and gone through a little village on the hill above, and on the other side of it ; then turned to my right into the forest, that was all about, the quaint hornbeam forest. There, sitting down, I took out the Troilus and Cressida I had brought with me, and began to read, saying to myself (though I did not believe it) that I would cast those memories quite away from me, be triumphantly victorious over them. Yes, there under the hornbeams I read Troilus and Cressida, the play with the two disappointments in it. Hector dead, and Cressida unfaithful ; Troy and Troilus undone. And when I had finished, I thought no more of Troilus and Cressida, or of any one else in the wide world but Mabel. ' Mabel ! ' I said, burying my face in the grass as I had before, long ago, in her long robes ; ' O Mabel ! could you not have loved me ? I would have loved you more than any woman was ever loved. Or if you could not love me, wh}^ did you speak as you did on that day ? I thought you so much above me, Mabel ; and yet I could not have spoken so to any one. O Mabel ! how will it be between us when we are dead ? O Lord ! help me, help me ! Is it coming over again ? ' For as I lay there, I saw again, as clearly as 3^ears ago, the room in the old house at Riston. at the noontide of the warm sunny spring weather. The black oak panel- ling, carved so quaintly, all round the room, whereon, in the space of sunlight that, pouring through the window, lit up the shadowed wall, danced the shadows of the young lime-leaves ; the great bay window, with its 44 PROSE ROMANCES shattered stone mullions, round which the creepers clung ; the rustling of the hard magnolia leaves in the fresh blast of the west wind ; the garden, with its clusters of joyous golden daffodils under the acacia-trees, seen through the open window ; and beyond that, rolling and flashing in the sun, between its long lines of willows and poplars, the mighty lowland river going to the sea. And she sat there by the fire-place, where there was no fire burning now. She sat by the cold hearth, with her back to the window, her long hands laid on her knees, bending forward a little, as if she were striving to look through and through something that was far ofif — there she sat, with her heavy, rolling, purple hair, like a queen's crown above her white temples, with her great slum- brously-passionate eyes, and her full lips underneath, whence the music came. Except that the wind moved a little some of the folds of her dress, she was as motion- less and quiet as an old Egyptian statue, sitting out its many thousand years of utter rest, that it may the better ponder on its own greatness ; more lifeless by far she looked than any one of the grey saints, that hang through rain, and wind, and sunshine, in the porches of the abbey which looks down on the low river waves. And there was one watched her from near the door, a man with long arms, crooked shoulders, and pale, ugly-featured face, looking out from long, lank, black hair. Yes, his face is pale always ; but now it is much paler than usual, as pale almost as the face of a dead man ; you can almost hear his heart beat as he stands there ; the cold sweat gathers on his brow. Presently he moves towards the lady ; he stands before her with one hand raised, and resting on the mantel-shelf. You can see his arm trembling as he does this ; he stands so while you might count twenty, she never looking up the while. Then, half choking, he says, ' Mabel, I want to speak to you, if you please, for a moment ; ' and she looks round with a calm, unconcerned look at first ; but presently a scornful smile begins to flicker about the corners of her mouth. Then that pale man says, ' Ah ! I have told you all the rest before ; ' for he knew the FRANK'S SEALED LETTER 45 meaning of the flickering smile — and that was five years ago. And I shall never forget it while I live — never forget those words of hers — never forget a single line of her beautiful, cruel face, as she stood there five years ago. All the world may go by me now ; I care not. I cannot work any more. I think I must have had some purpose in coming here ; but I forget what it was. I will go back to London, and see if I can remember when I get there — so that day under the hornbeam trees I fell from my steady purpose of five years. I was vanquished then, once and for ever ; there was no more fighting for me any more. And have I ever forgotten it — that day, and the words she spoke ? No, not for one moment. I have lived three years since then of bitter anguish. Every moment of that time has been utter pain and woe to me ; that is what my life has been these three years. And what death may be like I cannot tell ; I dare not even think for fear. And I have fled from the world ; no one of all my worshippers knows what has become of me, and the people with whom I live now, call me a man without a purpose, without a will. Yes, I wonder what death would be like. The Eure is deep at Louviers I know — deep, and runs very swiftly towards the Seine, past the cloth mills. Louviers ! Louviers ! What am I saying ? Where am I ? Christ ! I hold the sealed letter — Frank's sealed letter, in my hand, the seal just broken. Five years ! Eight years ! It was but two hours ago that my head lay before her feet ; yet I seem to have lived those eight years. Then I have not been famous ; have not forgotten ; never sat under the hornbeams by Chigwell ; and she is sitting there, still perhaps in that same oak room. How strange it is, fearfully strange, 3'et true ; for here is Frank's letter ; here is his manuscript, the ink on it, brown through the years of toil and longing. There close 46 PROSE ROMANCES by my side the great river is going to the sea, and the wind goes softly through the willow-boughs this sunny spring afternoon. And now what shall I do ? I know my will is strong, though I failed so in that dream I have awoke from. I know too, ' That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remem- bering happier things.' Shall I wear this ecown then while I live on earth, or forget, and be brave and strong ? Ah ! it must be a grand thing to be crowned ; and if it camiot be with gold and jewels, or better still, with the river flowers, then must it be with thorns. Shall I wear this or cast it from me ? I hear the wind going through the willow-boughs ; it seems to have a message for me. ' Good and true, faithful and brave, loving always, and crowned with all wisdom in the days gone by. He was all this and more. Trust your friend Hugh — your friend who loved you so, though you hardly knew it ; wear the crown of memory.' Yes, I will wear it ; and, O friend ! you who sent me this dream of good and evil, help me, I pray you, for I know how bitter it will be. Yes, I will wear it, and then, though never forgetting Mabel, and the things that have been, I may be happy at some time or another. Yet I cannot see now how that can ever come to pass. Oh, Mabel ! if you could only have loved me. ' Lord, keep my memory green.' GERTHA'S LOVERS IN FIVE CHAPTERS {Oxford ani Cambridge Magazine, July and August 1856) CHAPTER I.— By the River All thoughts, all passions, all deUghts, Whatever stirs this mortal frame. All are but ministers of love. And feed his sacred fiame. — Coleridge. Long ago there was a land, never mind where or when, a fair country and good to live in, rich with wealth of golden corn, beautiful with many woods, watered by great rivers, and pleasant trickling streams ; moreover, one extremity of it was bounded by the washing of the purple waves, and the other by the solemn watchfulness of the purple mountains. In a fair lowland valley of this good land sat a maiden, one summer morning early, working with her needle, while she thought of other matters as women use. She was the daughter of a mere peasant, tiller of the kind soil, fisher in the silver waters of the river that flowed down past his cottage to the far-off city ; he lived from day to day seeing few people, the one or two neighbours who lived in the cottages hard by, the priest of the little hamlet, now and then an artizan travelling in search of work ; except, indeed, when he went to the wars ; for he was a fighting man, as were all the people of that country, when need was. His wife was dead these five years, and his daughter alone lived with him ; yet she, though of such lowly parentage, was very beautiful ; nor merely so, but grand and queen-like also ; such a woman as might inspire a whole people to any deed of wise daring for her love. What thoughts were hers, as she sat working on that summer morning, the song of birds all about her, and the 48 PROSE ROMANCES lapping of the low, green river waves on the white sand sounding fresh and pleasantly as the west wind blew them toward her ? What thoughts ? Good thoughts, surely. For the land wherein she dwelt — so fair a land, so small a land, had never ceased to be desired by the tyrant kings who bore rule round about. Always had they made war against it ; never had they conquered, though sometimes they were seemingly victorious in a scattered fight here and there, through sheer force of numbers ; for the dwellers in that good land were of a different race to the lazy, slavish people who dwelt about them. Many a song Gertha could sing you of how, long, and long ago, they came from a land far over the sea, where the snow-laden pine-forests, weird halls of strange things, hang over the frozen waters for leagues, and leagues, and leagues along the coasts that were the cradles of mighty nations. Sailing over the sea then, long ago, with their ships all a-blaze with the steel that the heroes carried, they came to this land with their wives and children, and here made desperate war with the wild beasts, with savage swamps, dragon-inhabited, daring famine, and death in all ugly shapes. And they grew and grew, for God favoured them ; and those who dwelt nearest to the ' Savage Land,' as it used to be called, grew more and more like the strangers, and their good rule spread ; and they had a mighty faith withal that they should one day ring the world, going westward ever till they reached their old home in the east, left now so far behind. Judge, therefore, whether the tyrant kings feared these free, brave men ! Judge whether, growing more and more cruel as they grew more and more fearful, they strained the chain over the miserable millions of their subjects so that with many it grew intolerable, and was broken asunder ; so that, both in well-doing and in wrong-doing, God's kingdom spread. Think what armies went up against the good land ; what plains and valleys were sown with swords and spears and helmets, and the bones of valiant men ; and from being nameless once, only thought of as the place GERTHA'S LOVERS 49 where such and such a tree grew very plenteous, where such a river ran, became now to be remembered to all time, nor to be forgotten in eternity. Think of the desperate fights, in treacherous slippery fords, where the round stones rolled and shifted beneath the hurried trampling of men, fighting for life, and more than life, amid the plash of the reddened waters in the raw, gusty twilight of the February mornings ; or in close woods, little lighted up by the low sun just going to sink when the clouds looked thunderous in the summer evenings ; or with shouts from crag to crag of the great slate-cliffs, with wrathful thundering of rocks down into the thronged pass below, with unavailing arrow-flights, because arrows cannotpierce the mountains, or leapabout among the clefts of the rocks where the mountaineers stand, fiercely joyous. Think too of the many heads, old and j'oung, beautiful and mean, wept over, not joj^ously indeed ; nay, who knows with what agony, yet at least with love unflecked by any wandering mote of the merhory of shame or shrinking ; think of the many who, though they fought not at all with spear or sword, yet did, indeed, bear the brunt of many a battle, in patiently waiting through heart-sickening watchings, yet never losing hope, in patiently bearing unutterable misery of separation, yet never losing faith. Had not Gertha then enough to think of, as she sat working hard by where the water lapped the white sand ? For this people were so drawn together, that through the love they bore to one another sprang terrible deeds of heroism, any one of which would be enough for a life- time's thought ; almost every man of that nation was a hero and a fit companion for the angels ; and the glory of their fathers, and how themselves might do deeds that would not shame them, were the things that the men thought of always ; and the women, for their part, looked to become wives to brave men, mothers to brave sons. So now Gertha was singing rough spirit-stirring songs of the deeds of old, and thinking of them too Avith all MORRIS E 50 PROSE ROMANCES her heart as she sang. Why she, weak woman as she was, had not she seen the enemies' ships hauled up on the island bank yonder, and burned there ? Were not the charred logs, which once, painted red and black, used to carry terror to the peaceful, slothful people of the islands, mouldering there yet, grown over by the long clinging briony ? Did not her eyes flash, her brow and cheeks flush with triumph, her heart swell and heave beneath her breast, when the war-music grew nearer and louder every moment ; and when she saw at last the little band of her dear countrymen hemming in the dejected prisoners, the white red-crossed banner floating over all, blessing all alike, knight, and sailor, and husband- man ; and when she saw, too, her own dear, dear father, brave among the bravest, marching there with bright eyes, and lips curled with joyous triumphant indignation, though the blood that he was marked withal did not come from his enemies' veins only ? Did she not then sing, joyously and loud-ringing, remembering these things and many others, while the west wind was joyous about her too, whispering to her softly many things concerning the land of promise ? She sang about a king who lived long ago, a man wise and brave beyond all others, slain treacherously in a hunt- ing party by emissaries of the enemy, and slain at the height of his wisdom and good rule ; and this was one of the songs that his people had embalmed his memory withal. So, as she sang, behold, the blowing of horns, and trampling as of horse, just as her voice rang clear with, ' The King rode out in the morning early. Went riding to hunting over the grass ; Ere the dew fell again that was then bright and pearly, me ! — what a sorrow had come to pass ! ' • And a great company rode past going to hunt indeed, riding slowly, between her and the river, so that she saw them all clearly enough, the two noble knights especially, who rode at the head of them ; one very grand and noble, young wdthal, yet looking as if he were made to burst asunder the thickest circles of the battle, to gather together from the most hopeless routs men enough to GERTHA'S LOVERS 51 face the foe, and go back fighting, to roll back the line of fight when it wavered, to give strength to all warriors' hearts : fancy such an one, so wise, yet so beautiful, that he moved like the moving of music ; such tenderness looked from his eyes, so lovingly the morning smi and the sweet morning haze touched the waves of his golden hair, as they rode on happily. He that rode beside him was smaller and slenderer, smaller both in body and face, and it seemed in mind and heart also ; there was a troubled restless look about his eyes ; his thin lips were drawn inward tightly, as if he were striving to keep down words which he ought not to speak, or else some- times very strangely, this look would change, the eyes would glance about no more, yet look more eager and strangely anxious than ever ; the thin lips would part somewhat, as if he were striving to say something which would not leave his heart ; but the great man's eyes were large and serene, his lips full, his forehead clear, broad, and white ; his companion was sallow, his fore- head lower and rather narrow, his whole face drawn into wrinkles that came not by age, for he was no older than the other. They past as they had come, and when the last note of their horns had died away, Gertha went about her household duties ; yet all that day, whatever she might do, however much she tried to beat the phantom down, that stately man with the golden hair floated always before her eyes. Evening now, the sun was down, the hunt had swept away past the cottage again, though not within sight of it, and the two knights having lost their companions were riding on slowly, their tired horses hanging down their heads. ' Sire, where are we going to ? ' said the small dark man ; ' I mean to say where past that beech-tree ? the low swinging boughs of which will hit you about the end of the nose, I should think: Ah ! his head goes doAvn, somewhat in good time ; he has escaped the beech- bough.' E 2 52 PROSE ROMANCES But the other answered no word, for he did not hear his friend speak, he was singing softly to himself : ' The King rode out in the morning early. Went riding to hunting over the grass ; Ere the dew fell again which was then round and pearly, \ me ! — what a sorrow had come to pass.' He sang this twice or thrice with his head sunk down toward the saddle-bow, while the other knight gazed at him with a sad half smile, half sneer on his lips and eyes ; then with a sigh he turned him about and said, ' Pardon, Leuchnar, you said something I did not hear ; my mind was not in this wood, but somewhere else, I know not where. Leuchnar, we shall not find the hunt to-night ; let us, let us seek rest at that cottage that we passed this morning ; it seems to be the only house near.' ' Yea, my Lord Olaf,' said Leuchnar, smiling again in that bitter way, when he saw in spite of the twilight, both of the sunken sun and of the thick beech- wood, a great blush come over Olaf's face. ' Yea, for why should we not ? ' and as he said this, he fairly burst out into strange explosive laughter, that did not sound merry, yet was not repulsive, but sad only ; for Leuchnar was thinking of the ways of man, and found much to amuse him therein ; yet his laughter sounded sad in spite of himself, for he was not one who was made to laugh, somehow ; but what specially made him laugh now was this, that neither of them had forgotten that hour in the morning, and the maiden sitting alone near the river: each of them, as they burst through the greenest glades of the forest, with cry of hound and sound of horn, had, according to his faith, visions of a dark-haired maiden, sitting and singing, her eyes raised and fixed on one of them ; also both wished to go there again, and accordingly had been sad laggards in the hunt, and had lost themselves, not very unwillingly, perhaps ; yet now neither liked to confess his longing to the other ; Leuchnar would not even do so to himself, and for these reasons he laughed, and his laugh sounded strange and sad. But Olaf knew that he was in love, and all day long he GERTHA'S LOVERS 53 had been nursing that love delightedly ; he blushed yet more at Leuchnar's laugh, for these two seldom needed to tell each other their thoughts in so many words, and certainly not this time. He bowed his head downwards in his confusion so low, that his gold curls, falling forward, mingled with the full black of his horse's mane, and growled out therefrom : ' You are a strange fellow, Leuchnar, though a good one ; but we will go.' ' Yea, to the peasant's cottage, my lord,' said Leuchnar, with his head raised, his eyes set straight forward, and his lips curled into something much more like a sneer than a smile ; thereat Olaf with a spring sat upright in his saddle, and glanced quickly on either side of him, as though something had stung him unawares ; afterwards they both turned their horses' heads aside, and rode slowly in the direction of the cottage, Leuchnar singing in a harsh voice, ' The King rode out in the morning early,' — ' though the dew has fallen again,' he muttered ; whereat Olaf gave an uneasy side glance at him. And soon they heard again the lapping of the river waves on the sand of the silver bay, only lower than before, because the wind had fallen. Then presently they drew rein before the cottage door, when the moon was already growing golden. Sigurd, Gertha's father, came to the door, and courteously held the stirrups of the knights \\hile they dismounted, and they entered, and sat down to such fare as the peasant had, and Gertha served them. But they prayed her so to sit down, that at last it seemed discourteous to refuse them, and she sat down timidly. Then said Sigurd, M'hen they had eaten enough, ' I pray you tell me, fair knights, what news there is from the city, if you come from thence ; for there is a rumour of war hereabout, only uncertain as yet.' ' Nay, at the city,' Leuchnar said, ' there is certain news concerning one war, and even beside this, rumours of a great conspiracy between the surrounding rulers of slaves. The Emperor says that this valley always belonged to him ; though, indeed, he was not very 54 PROSE ROMANCES anxious for it when poisonous swamps spread out on both sides of the river here ; or rather his ancestors laid no claim to it ; but now, at all events, he is coming to take his own, if he can get it ; coming by way (it is his only way, poor fellow !) of the mountain passes. Only, my lord Adolf is ofiE to meet him with ten thousand men, and they are going to try the matter by arbitrement in this fashion ; marry, that if the valley belongs to the Emperor, he must know the way to it, and accordingly shall have it if he gets through the mountains in any other way than as a prisoner or dead corpse.' Sigurd and Olaf laughed grimly at Leuchnar's conceit, and Gertha's eyes flashed ; while both the knights watched her without seeing how matters went with each other. ' Then,' said Sigurd again, ' Concerning the young king, fair knights, what is he ? ' Olaf's eyes twinkled at the question, and Leuchnar seeing that he wanted to answer, let him do so, watching him the while with a quaint amused look on his face. ' Why,' said Olaf, ' he is counted brave and wise, and being young, will, I hope, live long ; but he is very ugly.' Here he turned, and looked at his friend with a smile. Sigurd started and seemed disappointed, but Gertha turned very pale, and rose from her seat suddenly, nor would she sit down again all that evening. Then Olaf saw that she knew he was the king, and some- how did not feel inclined to laugh any more, but grew stately and solemn, and rather silent too ; but Leuchnar talked much with Gertha, and he seemed to her to be very wise ; yet she remembered not what he said, scarcely heard it indeed, for was not the KING by her ; the king of all that dear people ; yet, above all, whether the other were so or not, her king ? Poor maid ! she felt it was so hopeless ; nay, she said to herself, ' Even if he were to say he loved me, I should be obliged to deny my love ; for what would all the people say, that the king of so great a nation should marry a peasant girl, without learning or wealth, or wisdom, with nothing but a pretty face ? Ah ! we must be apart always in this world.' GERTHA'S LOVERS 55 And Olaf, the king, said, ' So Leuchnar loves her — and I love her. Well, it will change his life, I think ; let him have her ; poor fellow ! he has not got many to love him. Besides, she is a peasant's daughter ; 1 am a great king. Yet is she nobler than I am, for all my kingship. Alas, I fear the people, not for myself, but for her ; they will not understand her nobility ; they will only see that which comes uppermost, her seeming wisdom, her seeming goodness, which, perchance, will not show to be so much greater than other women's, as the queen's ought to do. Then withal to her, if, perchance, at any time I am not quite sufficient to fill her heart, will come a weariness of our palace life, a longing for old places, old habits ; then sorrow, then death, through years and years of tired pining, fought against, bravely indeed, but always a terrible weight to such an one as she is. Yet, if I knew she loved me, all this ought to be put aside ; and yet, why should she love me ? And, if she does not love me now, what hope is there ; for how can we see each other any more, living such different far apart lives ? But for Leuchnar this is otherwise ; he may come and go often. Then he is wiser ; ah ! how much wiser than I am ; can think and talk quite wonder- fully, while I am but a mere fighting man ; how it would change his life too, when he found any one to love him infinitely, to think his thoughts, be one with him, as people say. Yes, let Leuchnar have her.' Those three so seeming-calm ! what stormy passions, wild longings, passed through their hearts that evening ! Leuchnar seeming-genial with his good friendly talk, his stories of brave deeds, told as if his heart were quite in them ; speaking so much more like other men than his wont was ; yet saying to himself, ' She must see that I love her ; when since I can remember have I talked so ? ' Poor fellow ; how should she know that ? his voice was to her as the voices of a dream, or perhaps rather like grand music when it wakes a man ; for, verily the glory of his tales got quite separated from him, and in some dim way floated in a glory round about Olaf, as far as Gertha was concerned. She heard his name, 56 PROSE ROMANCES the hero of every deed, which that far-distant knight, Leuchnar, less present than his own tales, was telling of ; whenever danger clung about the brave in those tales, her heart beat for fear of her golden-haired, broad- foreheaded hero ; she wondered often, as her heart wandered even from those tales, why she did not fall down before him and win his love or die. How then could she think of Leuchnar ? Yet Olaf did think of him, saw well through all his talking what he was thinking of ; and, for his own jDart, though he did not talk aloud, and though even what he said to himself had to do with that subject dearest to him, yet none the less even to himself choked down fiery longings, hardly, very hardly to be restrained. He tried hard to throw himself into Leuchnar's heart, to think of the loneliness of the man, and his wonderful power of concentrating every thought, every least spark of passion, on some one thing ; he remembered how in the years past he had clutched so eagerly at knowledge ; how that knowledge had overmastered him, made him more and more lonely year by year ; made him despise others because they did not know ; he remembered, with a certain pang, how Leuchnar even despised him for one time ; yes, he could bear just then to recall all the bitter memories of that time ; how he saw it creeping over his friend ; how he saw it struggled against, yet still gaining, gaining so surely ; he called to mind that day, when Leuchnar spoke his scorn out openly, bitterly despising his own pride and himself the while ; he remem- bered how Leuchnar came back to him afterwards, when knowledge failed him ; and yet how it was never the same between them as it had been ; he remembered then many a fight Avherein they rode side by side together, Leuchnar as brave as he, yet ever with that weight of self -scorn upon him, that made him despise even his bravery ; while Olaf rejoiced in his own, reverenced that of others ; then he remembered how he was made king, how the love of his countrymen became from that time much more of a passion, true love, than it had been ; and through all these things he tried to be Leuchnar, as it GERTHA'S LOVERS 57 were ; not such a hard thing for him ; for, through hia unselfishness, he had gained that mighty power of sympathy for others, which no fiercest passion can altogether put aside, even for the time. So he, too, had his thoughts, not easily to be read by others, not to be expressed by himself. So the night passed ; and they went to rest, or what seemed so, till they were wakened very early in the morn- ing by the sound of a trumpet ringing all about the wooded river-shore ; the knights and Sigurd rose and went forth from the cottage, knowing the trumpet to be a friendly one ; and presently there met them a band of knights fully armed, who drew rein when they saw them. ' King Olaf,' said their leader, an old, white-haired knight, ' thank God we have found you ! When we reached the palace last night, after having lost you, there were waiting for us ambassadors, bringing with them declarations of war from the three Dukes and King Borrace ; so now, I pray you, quick back again ! I have sent all about for men, but the time presses, and there is a credible report that King Borrace has already begun his march toward the plain ; as for the three Dukes (whom may the Lord confound !), Lord Hugh's army will account for them, at any rate to hold them in check till we have beaten King Borrace ; but for him we must march presently, if we mean to catch him ; only come King Olaf, and all will be well.' Then knelt Sigurd before the King, as he stood with eyes flashing, and cheek flushing, thinking how God's foes were hastening on to their destruction ; yet for all his joy he longed to see Gertha, perhaps for the last time ; for she was not there, neither did she come at Sigurd's call. So the King smiled sorrowfully when Sigurd made excuse for her, saying that she feared so great a man as the King ; he could not help wishing she loved him, even though he meant to give her up : so he said ; he could not acknowledge to the full what a difference her love would make to him. Then would he have given Sigurd presents of money 58 PROSE ROMANCES and jewels, but Sigurd would not take them ; only at the last, being constrained, he took the King's dagger, hilted with curiously wrought steel. Then they all rode away together ; Barulf, the old man, by the King's side, and talking eagerly with him concerning the coming wars ; but Leuchnar fell into the rear, and said no word to any. CHAPTER II leuchnar's ride Then for some days each man wrought his best, that they might meet the invaders as they ought ; yet through all the work Leuchnar seemed very restless and uneasy, falling into staring fits, and starting from them suddenly ; but the king was calm and cheerful outwardly, whatever passion strove to fever him. But one day when he was resting, leaning out of a window of the palace that was almost hidden by the heaped jasmine and clematis, he heard horse-hoofs, and presently saw Leuchnar, his sallow face drawn into one frown of eagerness, well mounted, lightly armed, just going to ride away, Olaf well knew whither. A fierce pang shot through to Olaf's heart ; he felt dizzied and confused ; through the clematis stems and curled tendrils, through the mist rising from his own heart, he dimly saw Leuchnar gather himself together, raise his bridle-hand, and bend forward as his horse sprang up to the gallop ; he felt sick, his strong hands trembled ; and through the whirling of his brain, and the buzzing in his ears, he heard himself shout out : ' Good speed. Sir Leuchnar, with your wooing ! ' This was enough ; his heart sank, and his passion grew cool for the second, when he saw how fearfully Leuchnar's face changed at the well-understood words : troubled before as it had been, what was it now, when suddenly all the conscience of the man showed in that small spot of clay, his face ? GERTHA'S LOVERS 59 He turned his horse, and rode back swiftly ; Olaf waited for him there, scarce knowing what he did at first ; yet within a little, something, thoughts of approaching death perhaps, had steadied his brain, and kept his passion back : he heard soon the quick footsteps of some one striding far, and walked quietly towards the door, where he met Leuchnar, his teeth set, his lips a little open, that his hard-drawn breathings might not choke him, his black eyes fixed forward and shining grimly from under his heavy brows like pent-house roofs. Olaf took him by the arm and gripped him hard ; but he tore it away fiercely ; he flung himself down before Olaf 's feet, ' King Olaf,' he said passionately, ' I will not go, I will stay here then, if you look at me like that — with your broad white forehead and golden locks — you ! — I will die here if I cannot live till I meet the enemy.' Olaf stooped to raise him up, but he drew farther back from him ; then said, still kneeling : ' No word — no word yet, king, from you — was it not enough, Olaf, that you should take care of me, and love me in the days before you were king — me, a lonely discontented man, a black spot in the clear whiteness of the most loving people of the earth ? was it not enough that, on the day when all the people shouted for Olaf, calling him the wisest and the best, you, with the crown yet on your head, the holy oil not dry there, should take me by the hand, and say to all the knights and all the people, whom you loved so, whom I (God help me !) loved not ; " behold Leuchnar, my friend, who has given me all the wisdom I ever had ? " Ah, king ! had you looked on me at that moment and seen even then my curling lips saying to my false heart, " I am so much wiser than these simple ones ! " — but your clear eyes only looked straight forward, glancing over the heads of the people that was dear to you, despised by me. Was it not enough. King Olaf, that you, as the days passed, still keeping me the nearest to you, still asking me concerning everything, should be beginning to thaw my 60 PEOSE ROMANCES hard heart and to shake my faith in the faithlessness of Adam's sons ? were not these things enough, that you also, first of all finding pretences to mar the nobleness of your sacrifice even to your own heart, should give your love up to me, not as I do now to you, noisily, but quietly, without a word spoken ; then afterwards, when you saw with what base eagerness I caught at that love given up by you, and fearing terrible things for my wretched soul if this went on, stopped me, like my guardian angel, just now when I was sneaking off like a thief in the night, and perhaps now — God help me ! God help me ! — have perhaps even made me do one thing in the whole course of my life which it is good to have done in His eyes ? ' Then, as he knelt there, like a man before the presence of God, the king spoke slowly, with humble face indeed, and tearfully, but almost smiling, because all things seemed so clear to him in a moment of prophetic vision. ' Dear Knight, your words seem like a bitter satire to me ; for I did not call you back just now for your salvation, but because my selfish passion (think of a selfish king, Leuchnar ; what a misery !) my passion carried me away : 0, forgive me ! for indeed I wish you to have her ; think now, how many cares, and joys too, I have in tending this people that God has given me ; I am sure that I shall not be quite unhappy for long, whatever happens ; sometimes, perhaps, when I am weary, sometimes in the dead night, sometimes in the dying autumn, I shall have thoughts of her ; but they will never be unbearable, because no power in earth or heaven can keep me from loving her : it will be no shame to you either, Leuchnar ; do you not remember, in past days, how when we talked of this matter, you have often said, (wherein even then I scarce agreed with you,) that the love of man and woman should go before everything, before all friendship, all duty, all honour even ? you thought so then ; can you doubt now ? ' He ceased, and said no word for a little ; then spoke doubtfully. ' And yet, and yet — are we not as men who reckon, as they say, Avithout their host ? What will Gertha say ? GERTHA'S LOVERS 61 ought we not to know before this great battle is fought, from which, perchance, neither of us will come alive ? and we march to-morrow, and I may not leave the council and my work here : wherefore, dear Leuchnar, I pray you on your allegiance mount again and ride quickly away to that cottage, and ask her if she — loves you — and if — if — Leuchnar, we may be near to death ; what- ever happens we must be brothers — so God speed you on your wooing.' Leuchnar had risen while the king was speaking, and stood before him till he ceased with head sunk down on his breast ; then raised his face, radiant now with a certain joy, to Olaf's ; he spoke no word, as though that joy, or something else, confused and hurrying, that went with it, was too great for him ; but, bending, kissed the king's hand and departed. Then Olaf again leaned from the window and watched him go by again swiftly, till the sound of the horse-hoofs had died away : then he turned toward the council chamber, thinking : ' His face was not like the face of a man who is going to do what he thinks wrong : I fear lest he go as my ambassador — nay, do I fear ? Yet surely that will be the best way to speed his own wooing — 0, Gertha ! Gertha ! — perhaps the sword will cut this knot so close wound ujD together now ; yet I will not pray for that, only that Leuchnar may live.' Then presently he was in the midst of his lords. Oh what a weary ride that was of Leuchnar's ! It was early morning when he started, high noon by the time he drew rein at the cottage door ; and that joy which at first he had in his noble deed faded from off his face as the sun rose higher, even as the dew did from off the face of the meadows, and when he dismounted at that house of Sigurd's, his face was woful and ghastly to look on. He knocked at the door, then entered when no one answered : he said out aloud, though he saw no one there, as if he distrusted his power to repeat that lesson got by heart with such pain : ' I bear a message to the Lady Gertha.' 62 PROSE ROMANCES Only the cool duskiness of the heavy-shadowed oak beams met his eye, only the echo of his own hollow voice, and the chirp of the sparrows, the scream of the swifts, — met his ear. For Gertha was not within ; but from the wood she had seen the glimmer of his arms in the hot noontide, and came down, stately and slow, unmoved to look on, but her heart of hearts wavering within her with hope and fear and ecstasy of love : perhaps (0 poor heart, what wild hope !) it might be the king. She met him just at the door from whence he had turned to seek her : he durst not meet her eyes, those grand fire-orbs that had pierced him through and through that other day ; if he had looked up at her face he would have seen the disappointment, the sickness of hope deferred, showing somewhat there in spite of her efforts to keep the appearance of it back. He, with his face turned away, said, in a hard voice as before, ' I bear a message for the Lady Gertha.' No blush coloured her pale cheeks, no start or trembling went through her grand form ; she still held that flower in her hand, holding it with queenly sway, for it fitted in her hand like a sceptre : she said gently, ' If you want Lady Gertha, you must go elsewhere, my lord ; I am Sigurd the husbandman's daughter.' ' But you are Gertha that we heard sing that day,' he said fiercely, and turning his eager eyes suddenly on her. ' Yea,' she said, trembling a little now, and turning even paler ; for she saw how matters went with him, and feared, not any violence from him, for she soon read him through and through, but rather that he should fall down dead before her, his passion rent his heart so. ' Gertha, Olaf the king says. Will you be queen ? ' he said, still looking hungrily at her. The crimson blood rushed up over her face, then went to her heart again, leaving her very lips grey. She paused a moment, with her arms stretched straight down, and her hands clenched : she said, without looking up : ' Tell him, " No " ; I am too lowly, not wise enough. GERTHA'S LOVERS 63 I should shame him ; I will not be queen — But ' What wild passions rushed through poor Leuchnar's heart ! how he fought with that Devil which had looked him steadily in the face so long, ever since he was born till now. She stood there still before him, with arms stretched downward, hands clenched ; he seized her by the wrist, and almost shrieked out ; ' But what ? — Gertha ! Gertha ! before God, do you love him ? ' Her colour came again as she looked him in the face, put very close to hers now, so close that she felt his breath upon it ; she said calmly, almost proudly, ' Yea, I love him ; how could it be otherwise ? ' ' Some token then, for Christ's sake ; quick, Gertha ! and where will you be in the war time ? ' ' My father goes with me to-morrow to the city, I shall dwell at St. Agnes' convent of nuns till Borrace is defeated.' ' Then some token ! — here ! ' (and he tore down from the cottage eaves a bunch of golden stone-crop) ' if you love him (think of God, Gertha), kiss this.' She bowed her head, and touched the yellow flowers with her lips ; as she did so, he bent and kissed her forehead ; then, with the flowers yet in his hand, he sprung impetuously to his saddle and galloped as if for his life. The Devil was conquered at last. ' Poor knight ! ' said Gertha, looking after him pityingly, ' then he loves me too ; it seems wrong to feel happy when such a noble knight is so miserable.' Yet she did feel very happy, and soon forgot poor Leuchnar and his sorrows, who was riding meanwhile wildly through the forest ; yet, as he drew further from her, the madness of his passion abated a little ; he gave his horse rest at last, and, dismounting, lay down on the ferns by the side of the forest-path, and there, utterly worn out in mind and body, fell asleep ; a dreamless sleep it was at first, as deep as death almost, yet, as it grew lighter, he fell to dreaming, and at last woke from a dream wherein Gertha had come to him, shrieked out 64 PROSE ROMANCES that Olaf was slain, then thrown her arms about his neck ; but, as he tried to kiss her, he awoke, and found himself under the beech-boughs, his horse standing over him, and the bridle, hanging loose from the bit, dangling about his face ; for the horse doubted if he were dead. He rose from that dream with a great wrench of his heart, and, mounting, rode on soberly. The moon shone down on him now, for he had slept far into the night. The stone-crop was fading fast, and as he looked at it, he doubted whether to curse it or bless it, but at last raised it to his mouth and kissed it, knowing whose lips had touched it before, looking half-fearfully over his shoulder as he did so ; perhaps he thought a little also how Olaf 's face would flush into perfect beauty for joy, when he saw it ; for joy mixed with a certain regret for himself. So, when he reached the palace, quite late at night, when the moon was already setting, he found Olaf stand- ing in the great hall alone, looking pale and wearied. Leuchnar came quite close to him, and said, taking his hand and smiling a sick smile : ' Olaf, she sent you this, kissing it.' Olaf caught the faded flowers, kissed them a thousand times, knelt, and held them against his heart, against his forehead. He murmured — what words I know not, or, knowing, shall not say ; while Leuchnar stood by with that old bitter smile on his lips. Poor fellow ! he had expected sudden clasping of Olaf's arms about him, praise for his nobleness, consolation for his failure. Ah ! did he not know himself what a passion love was ? Then why did he expect from so true a man as Olaf protestation that he was the first when truly he was but the second ? ! you all know what it is to be second in such a race ; it is to be nowhere. Why he, too, if he had been success- ful, would have forgotten Olaf, and the way his sword flashed in the battle. It was only now in his disappoint- ment that a certain natural instinct made him catch at all the love that came across him of whatsoever kind. That was why he thought so nuich of Olaf now. Yes, and in a little time he did think of all this, and smiled no more. ' Poor Leuchnar ! ' he said to himself, ' you must GERTHA'S LOVERS 65 be very far in the background now, know that for certain. Then, did you not know all this when you knelt here some twelve hours back ? ! foolish Leuchnar ! yet, poor Leuchnar, too ! ' And he was now so far from smiling that, but for his manhood, he would have wept for self-pity. Moreover, Olaf came to him and said, laying his hands on his shoulders, and leaning forward towards his face : ' You are the noblest of all men, and will in nowise lose your reward.' And Leuchnar knew that, or he might have gone mad ; yet he prayed that his reward might be death presently, in the joyous battle. So, on the morrow, they marched to meet King Borrace ; and, on the evening of the third day, encamped but a little distance from his pirates. And when, on the next morning, they stood in battle array, and the king rode up and down their line, Leuchnar saw in his helm the bunch of stone-crop, now quite withered. Then that day, among the aspens, they joined battle. CHAPTER III THE LIGHT OF ISRAEL Then, in the midst of them, the old man rose up and spoke, while all the rest sat silent, some gazing fixedly on the ground, some on the fair dead king, that lay there before them. For he had been slain with one wound that had gone right through his breast to the heart, and his body was not hacked or disfigured. They had taken his rent armour from off him, and washed his corpse, and spread out his long yellow hair to right and left of his face, along the samite cloth, purple, gold-starred, that he lay upon ; and, behind him, at his head, they had laid his sword and armour, the helm yet having that stone-crop in it, the ends of the stalks at least ; for all the rest had been MORHIS J. 66 PROSE ROMANCES shredded off in that fierce fight. Great waxen candles burned all about him ; two priests sat at the head and two at the foot of the bier, clad in gorgeous robes of deep sorrowful purple, gold -embroidered ; for these men reverenced man's bod}^ so, even when the soul was not so near to it as it had been, that, in those hours of doubt and danger, they thought the time well spent in making the body of their king, of him the best and most beautiful of all men, look as beautiful as God would ever have dead bodies look. So, while some gazed on the ground, some on the fair dead king, none weeping, but all stern with thought ; for they had to think of him as being present with them in their council, not dead — while they gazed earnestly, the old man, Barulf, arose and said, ' Sons of the men that go from east to west, and round again to the east ! I advise you this day to do such a deed of valour as you have never done yet. Death in God's behalf, on the side of your friends, is not hard to bear, brothers, even when it comes slow and lingering ; but how glorious to die in a great battle, borne down by over-many foes, to lie, never dead, but a living terror for all time to God's enemies and ours, a living hope to the sons of God. And to die altogether, beholding, between the sword -strokes, the faces of dear friends all a-light with intensest longing — is not that glorious ! ' Their stern faces lighted up with flushing of cheek and flashing of eye as he spake ; for in their hearts was fear of something far worse than dying on that field between the aspens with friends' eyes upon them. But Barulf went on. ' Yet, brothers, not this I bid you do. I give, as my counsel, that we depart this night, taking with us nothing but our arms, some small provision, and this dear dead thing here : turn our backs upon the foe, and depart, that we may reach the mother-city, where the women and children are ; and I think I have good reasons for this.' ' And how then shall we face the women and children ? ' said a voung man moodily. GERTHA'S LOVERS 67 ' Brother,' said Barulf, ' will you be a coward, indeed, from fear of being thought a coward ? your heart does not counsel this, I know ; and as for the women and children, are they mere beasts, so as not to understand this ? will they not say rather ? " These men are warriors, they cannot fear death ; then are they the braver to be so faithful, to be without fear of reproach for fear, so faithful to us above all things ; we will love them all the more." ' ' But why should we not die here, fighting. Sir Barulf? ' said another ; ' are there not men left when we are all dead ? ' ' Yea, dear knight, men, but not men enough. Thhik awhile — ^Adolf with his ten thousand men, and God's snow and storm that are tens and tens of thousands, guard the passes against the emperor. Good — they are enough as it is ; but take away half for the defence of the cities, the mother-city above all, which is the weakest, the most beautiful, the fullest of women and children of all — and then would five thousand be enough to guard those passes ? Even as it is, were not this summer a cold one and the snows deep, the emperor might drive his serf-soldiers, with whip and sword-point over our dead soldiers' bodies : but suppose they were lessened, our heroes would indeed die in their places, and would doubtless slay many of the enemy ; but suppose they killed and wounded twice their own number, yet two days afterwards some 200,000 men would be marching over our land within fifty miles of the beautiful city. ' Again, Edwin and his 300 ships, diligently sailing into every nook and strait of the pirate island, and every day and night solemnly passing to and fro, with the white red-crossed banner at their mast-heads, guard the coast well ; but let him land half, ud^y a third only of his men for the defence of the city, and in a week the sea-port towns and villages, safe from all scath now, \vould be blazing very high toward the heavens, and King Borrace's red and black ship-sides would gleam with the reflection of the Greek fire, as the dragons of it leapt toward the harbour-mouth. F 2 68 PROSE ROMANCES ' Moreover, the Lord Hugh, in his fortified camp, holds his own well enough now against the three Dukes ; who prowl always like accursed cowardly wolves as they are, gnashing their teeth when they think that their provisions cannot last much longer, not more than another month ; and, stamping on the ground, invoke the devil, their cousin german, when they remember that not a blade of grass or ear of corn is Ipft in the country behind them, laid waste as it was with fire, by the cruel fools as they marched : they, howling too for very rage when they see the wains in long lines entering Hugh's camp, and when they hear the merry sound of the trumpets, mingled often with the chaunting of the priests and the singing of men, singing about death that is no death. Ah ! they howl, the wolves disappointed enough now ; but suppose Hugh were to weaken his camp so as no longer to be able to send out his swarm of light-armed, who prevent the enemy from spoiling the yet unwasted country ; then, also, no longer fearing an attack, the Dukes march nearer to him, get themselves corn and -wine, cut off his supplies, march past him at last with their 50,000 men, not easy to destroy then. For cowards as the Dukes are, and imbecile drivellers, knowing nothing of war, yet have they along with them crafty captains, who, when their highnesses' passions master them not, give good advice which is listened to, and the commoner sort, though robbers by nature and nurture, have yet a certain kind of courage, and much strength in body and skill of arms.' In all the warriors' faces you might have seen a gloomy conviction that his counsel was good ; but they sat silent, it seemed such a shame to turn and flee before this enemy they had just beaten. Yet never for a moment did they doubt but that their people would in the end prevail over the enemies that hemmed them in, whatever became of those 20,000 left alive there on the plain ; and Barulf spoke to the better part of all their hearts, when he said : ' Does it then seem so hard a thing to you, sons of the men that go westward, that we, having fought for three GERTHA'S LOVERS 69 days such a battle as this, should have at last to turn and flee, carrying our dead king with us ? Oh ! it is hard, very bitter and cruel, brothers ; yet is it God's will, and in his sight, doubtless, is as glorious as if we all died here in our places. And I am well assured that this and all things else only hasten us westward ; it cannot be in any of your hearts that this people should fail. Nay, rather our sons' sons in the after-time will speak of these as glorious days in which the nations hedged us about, but in which we prevailed mightily against them. — ' But for another matter ' — and as he spoke, the memory came across him bitterly that the king they had chosen but two years since lay dead before them now : then his face changed, and so it was with all of them, now that they were free to think of that loss ; for, but a little time back, he had been with them ; even just now, as they talked in their old way of fresh battles, and thought of the swinging of the swords, he had almost seemed to be there alive ; but now — One of the priests who sat by him had fallen asleep, wearied out with tending the wounded and dying, and his head had fallen on his breast ; another sat quite upright with his hands laid on his knees, thinking dreadful things of what was coming on the land ; the third, a spare young man, black-haired and sallow-faced, in his nervous anxiety twitched at the border of his cope as he glanced about the tent, looking uneasily on the face, first of one, then of another, of those that sat there ; the fourth, as he sat, sad-faced and great-eyed, thinking of his mother and sisters whom he had left in a castle of the lowland country, had taken one long yellow tress of the dead man's hair, and was absently twining it about his fingers. Then arose Leuchnar with about as miserable a look on his face as a good man can ever have, and said : ' Sir Barulf , I know what you were about to say, concerning the king ' (a shudder ran through them all), ' I have a message from the king to all of j^ou. I was by him when the spear pierced his true heart ; I drew him a little out of the fight ; he said : "I am wounded to 70 PROSE ROMANCES death ; but, alive or dead, I must not leave this field, bury me just about where the enemy makes his last stand before he turns." For you see, knights, our dead lord was sure of this, that the fair city would be saved. Then the blood rising from his heart choked him some- what, yet he said gaspingly : " Quick, Leuchnar, bend to my mouth." So I bent, and he said, faintly and hurriedly : " Undo my mail, and take the paper there, and give it to the lords and knights in council." So I took a paper from his breast over his heart ; the spear had pierced it through, and had carried some of it into the wound, and the trickling blood had stained it ; I took it from off the broken truncheon of the lance which was yet in the wound. I showed it to him, he bowed his head in token that all was well, when he had looked at it eagerly ; then he said : "I wish to go, draw out the truncheon, faithful and true ! poor Leuchnar ! " I drew it out ; there was a great rush of blood ; he smiled on me, and died.' Thereon Leuchnar stepped from his place, and, going up to Barulf, gave him the paper, very much stained and torn. Barulf read it. ' Good saints, how strange ! do you know what is written in it, Sir Leuchnar ? ' 'Nay, I but guess. Sir Barulf ; for I did not open it.' 'Listen, knights ! ' said Barulf , and he read : 'Knights and lords, if I die in this battle, as I think I shall, then (if so be it seem good to you) let Gertha, the daughter of Sigurd the husbandman, be queen in my stead ; she lodges in the mother-city, with the abbess of St. Agnes' Abbey of nuns.' ' Yes, I thought so,' said Leuchnar, scarcely however speaking to them, for he was thinking to himself of himself ; his sorrow seemed to have lessened much, even in the reading of that letter, for he thought : ' Now she is queen, and has this sorrow on her, I can serve her much better, and my love will not trouble her now as it would have done, for it will seem only like the love of a good subject to his mistress ; and I will lessen every grief of hers as it arises, loving her so, never vexing her GERTHA'S LOVERS 71 in the least ; O selfish Leuchnar, to be glad of her sorrow ! yet I am glad, not of her sorrow, but of my service that will be.' These thoughts, and how many more, he thought in a single instant of time ; how many pictures came up to be gazed on as it were for a long time, in that instant ! pictures of his life before he saw her, and of the tilings which in his mind belonged to her ; the white sandy shore that the low waves broke on ; the feathering beech trees, with their tender green leaves in the early summer ; king Borrace's burnt ships, great logs clomb over by the briony and clematis ; the high-roofed cottage, whereon the loving golden-glowing stone-crop grew ; — they came up before his eyes to be gazed at ; and the heavy waxen candles burnt lower, the sleeping priest breathed heavily, the others sat in painful silence, nursing their grief ; which things Leuchnar saAv not because of those sweet pictures, even as they say that the drowning man, when the first fierce pain and struggle is over, sees no more the green, red-stained, swaying water-weeds, that lap his eyes and mouth, sees rather his old home, and all the things that have been, for memory is cruel-kind to men. Still the candles flared and flickered in the gusts that stirred the tent, for the wind was rising with the moon ; and at last the one nearest the tent door was blown out by a long blast, and the priest who had been sleeping awoke, drew up his body with a start, trying to fix his blinded blinking eyes on Sir Barulf's face, as waked men use to do. Thereat suddenly Barulf sprung to his feet, as if he too was waking from sleep, and cried out aloud : ' Rouse ye, lords and knights, that we may march to our queen ! for, for my part, our queen she shall be ; all he said and did was right and true when he was alive ; and he was, and is, the wisest of all men, and she too is a right noble woman ; was it never told you, knights, how she saved her father when king Borrace's men took him prisoner ? What say you, shall she be our queen ? ' And they all said ' Yea.' Then again said Barulf : ' L'^nless lords Edwin, Hugh, 72 PROSE ROMANCES and Adolf gainsay it (as I have no doubt they will not), God save Queen Gertha ! ' Then they all stood up and said : ' God save Queen Gertha ! ' And Barulf said : ' Send a herald round about the army to proclaim Gertha queen, and to bid all to be ready to march some two hours before the setting of the moon. Cause also the knight who carries the great banner to be present, that we may bury the king.' So when all was ready, the noblest of the knights, Barulf and Leuchnar among them, lifted up the bier whereon the king lay, and they marched together towards the burial-place ; and the standard-bearer bore the great banner to flap above him, and the priests went before and after, chaunting ; and a great body of knights and soldiers went with them as they marched over the plain ; and the great moon, risen now, struck on their arms, threw the shadows of them weirdly on the dead that lay so thick among the trees, looked down on by the summer moon, rustled over by the full-leaved aspens. They went a full mile, till they came to a place ringed about with aspen-trees, about which the enemy that past day had been finally broken. Here they buried him, standing about in a ring, in as thick ranks as ever in the battle ; fearlessly and sternly they watched the incense smoke rising white in the moonlight, they listened to the chaunting, they lifted up their voices, and very musically their sorrow of heart was spoken. ' Listen ! ' said king Borrace's men, when they heard the singing ; ' Hark to the psalm-singing dogs ! but by about this time to-morrow they will be beginning to leave off singing for good and all, for clearly the fools will wait to be killed, and we shall kill them all, and then hurrah for plunder ! ' But the next da}^ about noontide, when they, (not hurrying themselves, for they thought they were quite safe,) when they reached the camp, behold it was empty, for they all marched the night before, and were now GERTHA'S LOVERS 73 still marching along the dusty road leagues and leagues from that battle-field. Whereon king Borrace, instead of pursuing them, returned to his camp, where he gnashed his teeth for some half -hour or so, and held a great feast, he and his, and stayed on that field for three days — ' To give his army rest,' he said. CHAPTER IV GERTHA THE QUEEN And meantime how did it fare with Gertha ? The time passed slowly between hope and fear, and all the time was weary with a sick longing that would have been no less had he but gone out on a hunting expedition. She had pity too for those who were sick with love and dread, and all those who looked on her loved her. Then one evening about sunset-time, as the nuns were singing in their chapel and she with them, as the low sun struck through the western window, and smote upon the gold about the altar till it changed it to a wonderful crimson, upon which the pale painted angels that flecked the gold showed purer and paler than ever — there came, on that sunset evening, far off and faint at first, across, over the roofs of the houses up to the hill whereon the Abbey stood, a sound of shouting mingled with the wailing of women, and the still sadder and more awful wailing of the great trumpets, which seemed to be the gathered sorrow from the hearts of the men, who themselves could not wail because of their manhood. Tremblingly the nims heard it, and their hjmins fainted and died, as that awful sound of the indignant sorrow of a whole people going up to heaven rose and deepened, and swept onward : and Gertha turned pale even to the lips, and trembled too, at first, like an aspen- leaf, her heart beating so the while that she could hear the throbbings of it ; but with a mighty effort she put back the trembling fever ; she said low to herself : ' He 74 PROSE ROMANCES is dead, and I must not die yet.' Then she left her seat and walked, pale in her face like a marble statue, up to the altar ; she turned round and faced the door and the sun, none hindering her, for they said, ' she waits for news about the battle.' The sun was on her forehead at first as she stood still, but it sank lower till it touched her lips, and they seemed to quiver (though she held them still) in that flood of light. So she stood, when lo ! the clash of arms in the vestibule, and there entered armed knights without bowing to the altar or crossing themselves, Leuchnar first, then Barulf and some twenty lords following him ; the others gazed about confusedly at first, but Leuchnar going before them all, walked swiftly up to the place where Gertha stood, and fell before her feet, spreading his arms out towards her as he did so, and his iron armour rattled with strange echo about the vaulted roof ; she did not look at him, her eyes beheld rather the far off battle-field, and Olaf \jing there somewhere under the earth. ' Queen Gertha,' he began ; but his voice failed him for thronging memories ; Sir Barulf and the others drew reverently towards the two, and waited a little way off standing in a half circle : he heaved a great sigh, then bent lower yet, till his mail clinked against the step whereon she stood, then suddenly raisecl his passionate eyes to hers, and gazed till she was forced to look on him both with heart and eyes. She beheld him pityingly : he said again : ' Queen Gertha ! ' (thereat she started) ' Queen Gertha, he is dead.' ' O Leuchnar, I heard the trumpets sing it so, therefore I stayed here for his message ; what is it ? ' ' That you must be Queen over us yet awhile, Lady Gertha.' ' Ah ! and must I be ; may I not go to him at once ? for do you know, Leuchnar,' (and she stooped down low towards him, and laid her hand on his head as he knelt) ' do you know, I saw him just now lying pale and cold, GERTHA'S LOVERS 75 Waiting for me, his arms stretched out this way towards me, his changed eyes looking longingly.' ' noblest,' he said, ' know you not with how many perils we are beset ? Whose spirit but his can help us through, and with whom does it dwell but with you ? ' She wept : * Leuchnar, though He call for me so, yet perhaps that is because he is sick and weak and scarce knows what he says : and I know that in his heart he desires above all things the safety of this people that goes westward ; so I will be Queen till the last foe is van- quished — tell them so.' Then he took her hand ; how strangely as he held it did the poor flesh of him quiver, how his heart melted in the midst of his body ! he held her hand — and said, ' I am Queen Gertha's liegeman.' Then sprung to his feet and called out aloud : ' Sir Barulf and Knights all, come and do homage to Gertha, our Queen ! ' Then each man knelt before her, and took her hand, and said, ' I am Queen Gertha's liegeman.' AfterAvards all standing about her together, but lower than she, clashed their swords and axes across her that rang out joyfully, wildly, half madly in that quiet place ; while the sun grew lower so that its light fell on her bosom, and her face above looked out sad and pale and calm from among the flashing steel. So that day Gertha was made Queen. And then all throughout the city you might have heard the ringing of hammers on iron as the armourers did their work, and the clinking of the masons' trowels as they wrought at the walls, strengthening them ; for the walls had grown somewhat weak, as it was very many years since any enemy had threatened the city with a land army. And on the sixth day came King Borrace, having wasted the land far and wide as he marched. Now when he had sent a herald to demand the surrender of that city, who had not even been suffered to enter it, but had been answered scornfully from the walls, he gnashed his teeth, and mounting a great black horse and armed with a mace rode about, ordering his battle. Then also Gertha, leaving her hall of Council, went 76 PROSE ROMANCES round about the walls with a band of knights : over her robes of purple and crimson her glorious hair flowed loose, and a gold crown marked her, circling her head ; while in her hand she bore a slim white rod for a leader's staff. Very faithful and true were all those in the town, both soldiers and women, but Avhen she drew near to any, their faith grew so, that they seemed transported out of themselves ; the women wept for very love, and the men shouted ' Gertha ! Gertha ! ' till all the air rang ; and King Borrace muttered stupidly from between his teeth, ' They are praying to their gods, the fools.' Then, turning about, he said to one who was master of his artillery ; ' Gasgan, son of a dog, bring up the catapults and shoot me down that woman there — there she goes, poking her head over the battlqments — quick, wretch begotten by the Devil's ram.' So Gasgan fixed his catapult and aimed the rugged stone at Gertha as she leaned over the wall, thinking, forgetting the fight and all, for him, just for a single instant. He looked along the engine once, twice, thrice ; once, twice, thrice he started back without letting the catch slip. ' Dog,' said Borrace, riding up, ' why shootest not 1 ' The man looked up with drops of cold sweat hanging to his brow, then stammered out, ' O my Lord, it is nothing, — that is, there is nothing there now, nor was there when I fitted the levers ; but when my hand went to the bolt, each time I saw standing before me that man, the King who was slain the other day, his sword drawn in his hand, and frowning on me terribly ; I cannot shoot, my Lord — Lord, save me ! ' he shrieked at last, for Borrace, hitching up his great iron mace by its thong into his hand, began to swing it, putting back his lips from his teeth and setting his head forward. ' Son of a rotten sheep, can a ghost stop a stone from a petraria ? go and join King Olaf.' So he struck him on the uplifted face, between the eyes, and Gasgan fell dead without a groan, not to be known any more by his GERTHA'S LOVERS 77 wife or mother even, for the mace had shattered his skull. ' Now then,' said Borrace, ' I will try the ghost of this fellow whom I slew once, and whom I will slay again, God being my help.' He leapt down from his horse, and let his hand fall to the bolt, but just as he did so, before him, calm, but frowning, stood Olaf with bright-gleaming sword and yellow hair blown by the wind : ' Art thou not dead, then ? ' shouted Borrace fiu-iously, and with a great curse he drew the bolt. The stone flew fiercely enough, but not towards Gertha; it went sideways, and struck dowii two of Borrace's own lords, dashing the life out of the first and maiming the other for life. Borrace flung on to his horse, howling out like a mad dog, ' Witch ! Witch ! ' and like a man possessed galloped toward the city as though he would leap wall and ditch, screaming such mad blasphemy as cannot be written. After him very swiftly galloped some fifty knights and men-at-arms for his protection, and but just in time ; for one of the city gates swung open, the drawbridge fell with a heavy thump, and out rode a single knight armed with a northern axe instead of a spear, slim in figure, but seeming to be good at war. He dashed through the first few of Borrace's horsemen, who came up in scattered fashion because they had been riding ^s in a race, unhorsing a man to right and left of him as he passed through them, then made right at the King ; as they met, Borrace struck out blind with rage at the knight, who putting aside the heavy mace smote him on the side of the helm, that he tumbled clean out of the saddle. ' Gertha ! Gertha ! ' shouted the knight, and he caught Borrace's horse by the bridle, and dashed off towards the gate again, where in the flanking towers the archers stood ready to cover his retreat ; for some twenty yards as they galloped furiously on, Borrace dragged in the stirrup, then the stirrup-leather broke, and his horse- men seeing him lie still ^ere, gave up the pursuit of the victorious knight, which was the better advised, as 78 PROSE ROMANCES the first flight of arrows from the bowmen had already slain three outright, and wounded five, and they were again getting their strings to their ears. ' Gertha ! Leuchnar for Gertha ! ' rang from the knight again, as he turned just before he crossed the drawbridge ; but the last of the enemies stood up in his stirrups and poised his lance in act to throw ; but before it left his hand an arrow had leapt through his throat, and he fell dead. ' Gertha ! ' shouted the archer. And then again the drawbridge swayed up, letting little stones fall into the moat from it, down rattled the portcullis, and the heavy gate swung to. Then presently arose mightily the cr}^ of ' Gertha ! Gertha, the Queen ! ' But withal, when the pirates found that King Borrace Avas not slain, but only very much bruised, they advanced their engines, and the catapults and balistse and rams shook the wall, and made many sore cracks in the older parts, and the arrows flew like hail, and the ' cats,' great wooden towers covered with skins to protect them from fixre, began to rise against the town. Nevertheless, through all that weary day, though the defenders were so few for the great length of wall, they fought cheerfully and with good faith, like the men they were. So that when they brought news to battered King Borrace, who lay tossing on his bed, concerning how little progress they had made, he gnashed his teeth, and cursed and was right mad. And all the while through the thunder of the balistse stones against the wall, through the howling of the catapult stones as they came among them into the city, through the gaunt uplifting of the misshapen rams, through the noise of the sledge-hammers clamping the iron bands of the cat-towers, through the whirr of arrows, through wounds and weariness, and death of friends, still rose the shout of ' Gertha ! Gertha the Queen ! Gertha ! ' Guess whether many people lay awake that night, or rather whether any slept at all, save those who were GERTHA'S LOVERS 79 utterly wearied out by that clay's fighting or by their own restless excitement. Many did not even try to sleep, but sat round about the cold hearth telling stories ; brave stories, mostly of the good old times that were fathers to the good times now ; or else they would go about the walls in an eager fever to see what was going on ; and some there were who stood all that night by the bed of some sorely wounded friend ; and some, mother, lover, friend, stood also by bedsides holding the cold hands with bitter thoughts that were hard to bear. That night was dark, with much gusty wind and a drizzle of rain, therefore, though it was August and the days long, j'et it was quite dark by nine o'clock, and a little after twilight the enemies' petrariae left off playing, so that the besieged had rest : but before daybreak the drizzle had changed to steady rain, the wind having fallen. Even before dawn the camp was a -stir, and two hours afterwards the cat-towers were again building, and the battering had begun again. And so that daj^ passed, through the rainy hours of it ; and about two hours after noon the enemy tried to scale the lowest part of the wall near the harbour. Thereupon Gertha came to that part and looked on the fighters from a tower with a circle of knights round about. Therefore her people waxed so valiant, that though the pirates, fighting like madmen, fixed the ladders to the wall even through the storm of arrows and stones, (for the tide was out and there was no water now round about the wall,) they were nevertheless driven back with great slaughter. Also, on the other side of the town, one of the cat- towers was fired, and many perished miserably therein. That evening Gertha sat and took counsel with her lords and knights ; whereon Leuchnar arose and said, ' Noble lady, we must make a sortie, and collect every man, and every boy too, to guard the walls meanwhile, for we are very few to guard so great a city, and the enemy is very many ; half our men are utterly worn out with these two days' fighting, coming so close upon their 80 PROSE ROMANCES long march ; the walls, either old and crumbling, or new and still damp, are cracked in twenty places : they are making a great raft for the crossing of the moat ; go to the open window, lady, and you will hear, though it is night, the sound of their hammers busy on it. When King Borrace can put on his armour again, (would that I had slain him outright !) we shall be attacked in twenty places at once, and then I fear it will go hard with the fair city ; we must make a night attack, and do all the burning and slaying that we may.* ' Dear knight,' said Barulf, ' you are young and wise, this thing must be done : let some one get together two thousand of our best men, and those that are least wearied ; let them be divided into two bands, and march out, the one by Gate St. George, the other by the East Gate ; you. Sir Leuchnar, shall lead the one out of Gate St. George, and I will lead the other.' He said this last quite eagerly, and the colour sprang up to his face : Gertha looked at him half shyly, then spoke to him. * Nay, Sir Barulf, are you not then too old for blushing ? Except for the last word your speech was very wise, but that spoilt it rather, for you must stay behind with us, some one else must go.' She smiled serenely as she spoke ; indeed she seemed quite happy now, seeing prophetically perhaps that the end drew near. ' And I ? ' said Leuchnar, ' may I not go 1 ' ' Go, fair knight, and the Lord keep you from all harm.' But Barulf said, smiling also ; ' As for me, Queen Gertha, you know best, so I will stay behind, and hope to get a good drive at the three Dukes ; they will keep, doubtless ; may the Lord make their hands light ! but who shall go in my stead ? ' She looked round the noble assembly, and her eyes fixed on a young knight who sat over against her ; their eyes met, and he seemed to Gertha to resemble somewhat her king, who was waiting for her near the poplar-trees. So she said : ' Sir knight, I know not your name ; you I mean, with GERTHA'S LOVERS 81 the blue surcoat and the golden Chevron on it ; but will you take this service upon you ? ' He had been gazing at her all the time they had sat there, and when he heard her speaking to him it must have seemed to him as if they two were alone together, for he looked this way and that, just as though he feared that some one might hear what they said one to the other ; he rose and fell before her feet, not knowing if he were in Heaven or not, for his yearning was so strong that it almost satisfied itself. He muttered something almost inaudible about his un worthiness. She gazed at him as he lay there with that inexpressible pity and tenderness in her face, which made all men love her so, trust in her. ' Wait, fair knight, and rise I pray you ; have you Father or Mother alive yet ? ' ' No, Lady,' he said, still kneeling, like a suppliant for dear life. ' Any sisters or brothers ? ' ' None, Lady Gertha, now.' ' Have you a Lover ? ' ' Yea — one whom I love.' Oh how the look of pity deepened in her eyes ! what wonder that every nerve trembled in his body ? ' And would she give it to your charge to lead a desperate sortie, young as you are, with ''life all before you," as men say ? ' ' Will she bid me go ? ' he said. ' Poor boy ! — yet go — in the after-time we shall meet agam, whatever happens, and you and Olaf will be friends, and you will see all his glory. What is your name ? ' ' Richard. ' Farewell, Richard.' and she gave him her hand to kiss ; then he departed, saying no word, and sat outside for a minute or two, quite bewildered with his happiness. Then came Leuchnar, and they went together to see concerning the men they wanted, and as they went they told each other that which was nearest their hearts : then said Richard : MORRIS n 82 PROSE ROMANCES ' This is about the happiest time of my life, since I was a child ; shall we not fight well, Sir Leuchnar ? ' ' Yes,' he said, ' we ought both to praise God, Sir Richard, that, things being so, he has shown us so clearly what to do ; I remember now how often in the past days I used after my fashion to torment myself, with thinking how ever I should pass the time if it chanced that my love (when it came, for love of all kinds was long in coming to my dull heart) should fail me ; and now God calls us merely to spend a few hours in glorious fight, and then doubtless he will give us forgetfulness till we see her again : and all this I have not at all deserved, for though men's lips formed themselves to speak my name often, praising it for my many good deeds, yet the heart knoweth its own bitterness, and I know wherefore I did such things, not for God's glory, but for my glory.' ' Does not God then accept a man's deeds, even if he stumble up to do them through mixed motives, part bad and part good ? is it not written, " by their fruits ye shall know them " ? — and your fruits — how often when I have heard men talking of you have I longed to be like you, so brave and wise and good ! ' ' Ah ! the fruits, the fruits ! ' said Leuchnar, ' when I think what the lawful fruits of my thoughts were, I shudder to see how near the Devil's House I have passed. Pray for me in the battle, Richard.' ' You are very good and humble, Leuchnar,' he said, ' and I know not what good the prayers of such an one as I am could do you, but I will pray. Yet I myself have been careless about deeds at all ; I have loved beauty so much that I fear if any crime had at any time stood between me and beauty I should have committed that crime to reach it ; yet has God been so kind to me, and kindest of all in this, that I who have done nothing all my life long yet, should do this and then die.' ' And it is good to do one thing, and then die,' said Leuchnar ; ' farewell.' So they departed each to his own band ; and by this time the rain had ceased, the wind had risen, and was now blowing strong from the sea ; the clouds were GERTHA'S LOVERS 83 clearing off somewhat, but it was not quite bright ; moreover the moon, though it had risen, was pretty much behind the clouds. The two thousand horsemen went, each thousand in its own direction, very quietly along the streets ; they opened Gate St. George quite quietly also, and Leuchnar passed out at the head of his men. Now on each side of that gate was a cat-tower ; so a hundred men were sent to each of these to burn them first ; they were then to follow the main body, doing such damage as they could to the petrarise along their way : now this side of the camp happened to be very carelessly guarded, scarcely guarded at all in fact ; there was no one in the cats, and the guards about fifty in number, who ought to have been watching them, were asleep some twenty yards off ; so both parties succeeded in firing the cats, taking care to put such store of tow and flax mingled with pitch into them that it should be impossible to drown the flames ; moreover the guards awakened by the trampling of the horses and roar of the flames were put to the sword as they rose, sleepy, bewildered, unable to use their arms : then the two hundred men, burning as they went along the altogether unguarded petrariae on their path, soon joined the main body, and they all rode on swiftly toward the camp, just beginning to stir because of the noise, and the flare of the burning cats. A few minutes' gallop brought Leuchnar to the foremost tents, which were fired, and then through the smoke and flame Leuchnar dashed into King Borrace's camp at the head of his thousand horsemen. At first there was scarce any resistance, the men were cut down and speared as they ran half -armed from out of the burning tents, and the flames spread in the rising wind ; but the alarm too spreading, and many bands coming up in good order, Leuchnar was surrounded almost before he knew it ; so in a pause in the fight he looked about him to see how he and his could die most to the advantage of the People ; he listened and looked toward the East Gate, there were no flames to be seen in that quarter where Richard was to have flred the great G 2 84 PROSE ROMANCES balistse and the rams and the raft for the crossing of the moat ; for, to leave Leuchnar about to do something desperate, some of King Borrace's men on that side had heard a stir in the town, and the bravest of them had gone to tell him : for at this time he was well nigh mad with his foil, and raged like the Devil himself, to whom indeed he must have been nearly related, and the service of telling him anything like bad news was indeed a desperate one. However as I said, some brave men plucked up heart of grace to go and tell him that the townsmen seemed to be about to make a sally on that side of the camp. He answered them first of all by throwing four javelins at them, one after another ; for he had a sheaf of those weapons put by his bedside for that very purpose ; one of them was wounded by this javelin-flight, the others by careful dodging managed to avoid him : then at last he listened to them, and being rather sobered ordered 5,000 horsemen to fetch a compass and charge Richard's party in the rear when he was well drawn out towards the balistse, which, as they were larger on this side, (for it was on this side that the enemy hoped most to make a breach,) were farther from the walls that they might be out of the range of the townsmen's engines. So when Richard came out of the East Gate very softly, this band of 5,000 men was quite close to him, and the balistse were guarded by a great body of archers and slingers ; and neither horsemen nor archers could be seen, because, the night being gusty, the moon was at that time behind the clouds : so then Rolf coming near to one of the great balistse sent aside fifty men to fire it, who were straightway attacked in front and flank by arrow -flights, so that all those who were not armed m proof were either slain or too badly wounded to retreat ; the rest rode back in haste to the main body, which had halted as soon as Richard saw how matters went : then indeed would Sir Richard and all his men have died without helping Gertha, or the People that went west- ward, much, as men count help : but the Captain of those 5,000 thought he would not attack Richard from behind, GERTHA'S LOVERS 85 lest he should ride do\\ii his own people in the darkness, who he saw had already had some contest with the townsmen ; but thinking that he would turn at once toward the town meant to fall on hini as he retreated without order. But Richard, seeing well how things had really gone, turned round to his men, and called out, ' Keep well together, and fight well for Gertha ' — then, ' Sound trumpets, and Richard for Gertha ! ' So they dashed right at the camp at the gallop, and entered it close to Borrace's tent, w-here it was not deep but straggling. Now Borrace, thinking that nothing else could happen but that the townsmen should all be slain close to the walls, was standing near his tent, talking to some of his Captains, and armed all save his helm ; for he was now well, or nearly well of his bruises, and intended to lead an attack the next day. So there he stood, and four Captains with him, he twirling his mace about in his nervous excitement, and sometimes looking uneasily at those that stood by, as if he thought they were getting something out of him. Judge of his astonishment when he heard Richard's shout of ' Gertha,' and then the thunder of the horse-hoofs. ' Curse that witch ! ' he ground out from between his teeth, ' shall I never hear the last of her ? only I think when I have seen her well burnt out of hand, after that ' ' For your life, mj^ lord ! for 3'our life ! they are coming this way, they will be over us in a minute ! ' and he turned and ran, and ran well too ; and Borrace also began to run, and got clear out of the way of the main body, and would have escaped but that a certain knight, espying him, and knowing well the \nllainous wolf's face of the man, as he looked over his shoulder, under the clearing moon, turned off a little and rode at him while he ran like ten men, crying out with a great laugh as he knocked him over, ' Twice, O King Borrace ! ' And indeed King Borrace was not knocked over thrice, for this time the brains were fairly knocked out of his smashed head by the great horsehoofs, the knight having 86 PROSE ROMANCES disdained to use his sword on a runaway, and besides, being a genial sort of man, he had a kind of contemptuous pity for so stupid a brute, and thought to give him a chance. However when the horsemen had ridden past, the Captains came back to see first of all what had become of their Lord and Master, for they had seen him go over, and with very mixed feelings. They found him as I said with his brains knocked out, and quite dead, whereat the first, Lord Robert, lifted his eyebrows and gave a long whistle in utter astonishment that so slight a matter as a horse should have slain him, for his head seemed to be solid and mostly of oak. But Sebald, the second of them, lifted his foot and dug his heel deep in the already fearfully lacerated face of the dead tyrant, saying as he did so, ' Beast and devil, remember my sister ! I told you then I would do this one time or other,' (and again he stamped,) ' said so openly, yet you took me into your service instead of killing me as I hoped you would, madman that you were.' For in his madness of half-satisfied vengeance it seemed to him that he had slain him with his own hands ; but suddenly it came across him how it was, and he said : ' Yet, God ! to think that I am disappointed in my revenge : yet still it is pleasant to do this, though another man slew him ; ' and again his heel came down on the dead King's wretched face : then he stooped down and put his hands to the warm blood that flowed from the wounds, and raised them to his lips and drank, and the draught seemed to please him. Meanwhile Gherard, the third Captain, who had at first stood still without saying a word and apparently in deep thought, suddenly started, and catching hold of Sebald by the shoulder said savagely : ' Fool ! can't you stop that play-acting ? Keep it till you are by yourself, for it is thrown away upon us, I can tell you ; and don't you see all of you that this must not be known ? quick ! quick ! help me to carry him into the tent ; here, Sebald, man, lift and quick — ah ! ' he said, turning GERTHA'S LOVERS 87 round and glancing about uneasily, ' where is Erwelt ? but you carry him while I ' And he darted off after the fourth Captain (Erwelt), who had somehow disappeared, a man of mincing manners, very elaborately dressed. So Sebald and Robert, as they lifted the body, saw Gherard as he ran in great bounds towards Erwelt ; they saw his hand slide down to his dagger, but there was no weapon in the sheath ; he ground his teeth with vexation, but still went on till he had overtaken his man ; then he touched him on the shoulder and said : ' Erwelt, I want to speak to you.' ' Well,' said the other, ' what is it ? ' But his heart sank and he felt as if Death stood before him, dart and all, as indeed he did, for Gherard was a very strong man, and, as he" saw Erwelt's hand go down towards the dagger-hilt, he felled him with a quick blow between the eyes, then before he could recover was kneeling on him ; he dragged the broad double-edged dagger from its jewelled sheath, and buried it thrice in Erwelt's breast, then drew it across his throat from ear to ear ; then, thrusting the dagger back again into its sheath, after he had carefully wiped it on the white and blue velvet of the dead man's dress, he sprang \x^ and ran back towards the King's tent, leaving the body to lie piteously under the moon which was shining out from dark purple hollows between the clouds. The light of it flashed on the poor fop's jewels, shone on his upturned face and gashed throat and feeble nerveless hands. How much more dreadful was that one corpse than all the many, lying now nearer to the walls ; than those even who lay with ghastly breakings of the whole frame torn by great stones ; or slain by wounds that struck them hap-hazard in strange unlikely places : or slain as they lay already wounded ; or who lay with their bodies twisted into unimaginable writhings brought about by pain and fear. All these and many more, many, very many of each sort, they were altogether less horrible than this one corpse of a murdered man. The murderer found the others already in the tent, for Robert had said : ' Sebald, don't let us see that ; you 88 PROSE ROMANCES and I know nothing about it for the present ; for we must hold together ; and for my part I vote that we let Gherard work for us, he is such a clever fellow.' Sebald made no answer ; his eyes were dry, his throat was dry, his heart was dry with intense thinking if by any means he could extend his vengeance beyond the present world. He thought of all the curses he had ever heard ; how meaningless and uninventive they all seemed when set beside his hatred ! he thought so that I know not into what uttermost hell he had dragged his own heart ; he certainly did not feel as if he were on earth ; his head grew dizzy, he could scarcely walk under his burden, but somehow between them they managed to get the body into the tent unperceived. Then he thought : ' I can bear this no longer, I must think of something else just now ; but I will make it the work of my whole life hereafter.' So then Gherard burst in, muttering from between his teeth, ' so much for one marplot : ' and Sebald woke up and was in the world again. So they began to talk, Robert sitting do"WTi and with his elbow on the table, stroking his cheek with his open hand ; Sebald standing still, with knit brows, and blood- stained hands crossed over his breast ; while Gherard walked up and down, twisting his fingers together behind his back, his cheek all a-fiush and his eyes glistening — and Erwelt lay stiffening in the moonlight. So those three fell a-plotting. Meanwhile such a hubbub and confusion had been going on before the walls as if the fiends were loose ; for the archers, when Richard had passed beyond hope of pursuit, having sent a few arrows into the darkness at nothing, turned and looked about them. Now they knew nothing at all concerning those horse- men who had been sent to take Richard in the rear, so, seeing some helmets glittering in the somewhat doubtful moonlight, thej^ advanced a little towards them, and, thinking as a matter of course that they were from the town, sent two or three flights of arrows among them as an experiment, getting ready to run away in case they GERTHA'S LOV^ERS 89 should be too many for them, doing all this before the horsemen could shout out that they were from the camp ; and when they did so, the townsmen, seeing clearly that Richard and his men were away, opened a heavy fire on everything that they saw, and Borrace's archers believed that the horsemen lied, and still shot all they might. Whereon the horsemen changed their minds, and settled that these were another band of men from the town whom they had not counted on, and so charged with a good will, especially as the long-bows and cross- bows and petrarise were playing on them diligently from the city-walls. Now the archers were more numerous than the horse- men, and, though not so well armed, fought stoutly, throwing away their bows and using their axes and swords, nor did they find out their mistake till many were slain both of horsemen and archers, and even then they were quite ready to go on with that work from sheer rage and vexation of heart ; but restraining themselves, and being restrained by their leaders, they got separated somehow, and marched back to their own quarters, where one and all swore that they would stay, nor move again that night for man or Devil, whatever happened. And so they fell to drinking all they might. But Sir Richard and all his, having won through the camp with but little opposition, (for the enemy were all drawn off other- where,) crossed the river that la}'^ bej^ond, bj'' a broad shallow ford that he knew well, (higher up it passed by that cottage,) then took mere bridle- waj^s and waggon-roads through the woods that lay beyond the river, after he had told his men that he intended making a circuit and falling from behind on that part of the camp where Leuchnar was. ' For he is probably hard pressed by this time,' said he, ' the sortie being from the first somewhat desperate and wild, though necessary.' And he made this circuit lest he should be cut off before he could reach Leuchnar ; had he known that there would be no pursuit, (there would have been but for Borrace's death, and the happy clash between the horse- 90 PROSE ROMANCES men and archers) — had he known all this he would cer- tainly not have gone so far about, or gone through such intricate waj^s where the men could not help straggling. So the rain-drops fell in showers on their armour as they past, from the low tree-boughs brushed by their crests and lowered spears ; the moon flashed on the wet leaves that danced in the rushing sea-wind ; with whirr of swift wings the wood-pigeon left the wood. How often had Richard wandered here in the past da3's ! what thoughts were his in those old times, of the glory of his coming manhood ! what wonder at the stories of lovers that he read, and their deeds ! what brave purposes never to be fulfilled ! yet he meant them then honestly enough, yet he was to do one deed at the last if only one, that was something ; and as he thought this he straight- way drove thoughts of all other things from his mind, and thought of what he should do now. He called a halt, and listened ; then perceiving clearly that there was no pursuit at all, he led his men out of the woods, by a way he knew well, round toward Gate St. George, but cautiously and quietly for fear of an attack from the camp. Then after a while they halted again, and he heard the noise of the irregular melee I have told you about, and could scarce account for it ; he heard the noise of the fight about where Leuchnar was ; and he heard withal another sound that made his heart beat with hope : it was a far-off sound swelling and fainting in the rise and fall of the southwest wind that blew from over the sea, the sound of triumphant trumpets : he leaned forward from his saddle to listen better, and many a soldier's e_ves sparkled as he cried out suddenly, ' Victory ! it is Edwin — quick to Leuchnar ! ' So away they went toward Gate St. George at a smart pace. They drew rein when they came within a few minutes' gallop from the camp that their horses might not go blown into the battle, then advanced with as little noise as possible, till they drew near and saw the enormous masses of the enemy surging round something which they knew well to be Leuchnar in a desperate case. GERTHA'S LOVERS 91 Then shouted their leader, ' Richard ! Richard for Gertha ! ' and with one mighty charge, which scattered the enemy to right and left, they were buried in the enormous multitude that was in vain striving to break Leuchnar's array. For he, trying to win his way back to the city that he might sally out at the East Gate to the aid of Sir Richard, beset as he thought he was, as he was doing this he was first cut off from the city and driven back towards the camp, and then surrounded. Whereupon the horsemen having dismounted formed a great square with closely planted shields, and long spears set out like the teeth of a great beast, and on this square King Borrace's horsemen, that were King Borrace's no more now, had wasted their strength for long : for howsoever many men of it were slain by the arrows and slings or by the hurling of the long lances, yet the living filled up the places of the dead, and the square, though lessening every moment, was not broken when Richard made that charge, and joined Leuchnar : having hewn his way through with most of his men to that square of serried spears, ' Brother ! ' he shouted, ' hold out yet awhile, for Edwin is coming in triumph over the sea, and we must live till then.' So they joined their two bands, and made a thicker and larger square than before, having cleared a space by one or two desjjerate charges, and soon the fight was fiercer than ever. But the men fell fast before the arrow-flights and they grew utterly wearied with standing there on foot ; in pauses of the fight very anxiously did Richard and Leuchnar listen, and thev heard a snatch now and then of the dear trumpet-music, and hoped, or tried to hope : yet it seemed that they must die before help came, the greater part at least. Then an arrow whistled, and Leuchnar staggered and bowed forward ; he was wounded, not mortally indeed, but it dizzied and confused him. Almost at the same time the crowd opened, and there rose a shout of * Gherard ! Gherard ! ' Forthwith a fresh band of 92 PROSE ROMANCES horsemen charged, all armed in proof and splendidly mounted, with Gherard himself at the head of them. How it all happened Richard scarce knew, but so it was that they broke the terrible hedge of spears, and presently each man found himself fighting separately or with one or two friends about him ; tired men too against fresh ones, men on foot against horsemen, and all things seemed desperate. Yet even then between all the clash of the battle Richard heard the roar of the bells from all the belfries and the shouting of the people. Edwin had landed. Then as he thought of this he grew half mad to think that they should die before the very eyes of their friends, and shouted out ' Gertha ! fight on, brave lads, and gather together all you may ! ' He with some half dozen of his own men tried to gather others again, but, while he struggled desperately, his great sword flashing this way and that, but rising duller from every stroke because of the blood on it, he was suddenly borne away, and Leuchnar beheld him alone amidst a ring of foes, saw his sword still flashing for a little, then saw him fall with many wounds and lie dead, at peace at last. He himself, though surrounded by a band of friends, was sorely wounded ; and, sick with pain and loss of blood, he had nearly fainted ; and the few around him were falling, falling fast under axe and sword and spear, when lo ! the gates open, and the cry of ' Edwin for Gertha ! ' rings all about, thousands pour out of the great gates, over the bridge, there is a sharp fight, and the bodies at least of Leuchnar and Richard are rescued. For the pirates are driven back to their camp, not to stay quiet there for long ; for even as they stand at bay about their tents the word goes that Borrace is slain ; nor only so ; the moon sinks, the east begins to redden, and within an hour after her setting many new spears fleck the clear light ; the advanced guard of the Lord Hugh's victorious army who have marched night-long to come to the help of the fair city. Close them all about, brave sons of the men that go westward ! Borrace is dead, Gherard is dead, Erwelt is GERTHA'S LOVERS 93 dead, Sebald lies bleeding to death from four sore wounds, Robert fled soon, but was drowned in crossing the river. The cats are on fire, the petrariae are in ashes, all the camp is one blaze, everywhere the foe are throwing their arms away and crying for quarter, soon they are all slain, wounded, or prisoners. Meanwhile a messenger, pale and worn out, is brought to Gertha, and kneels down before her feet ; he says, ' Lady, I have a message for you.' (O Gertha ! words spoken before.) ' Quick, good man,' she says, ' for these things draw to an end ; ' and a smile of quiet triumph passes across her pale face. ' Three days ago,' he says, ' the Emperor strove to force the passes ; he and three of his captains were slain, and my Lord Adolf will be here soon.' ' Thank God ! ' she says, ' but you, poor man, what reward for you ? ah ! sleep has overmastered him : ' for he has fallen forward before her so that his head rests on her feet ; she touches him, takes his hand to raise him up ; it is stone-cold, he is dead. But for these men of King Borrace — let the wounded go to our hospitals that they may learn there something of love which they have not even dreamed about as yet ; let the slain be buried, and lie under the earth, under the grass among the roots of the land they came to conquer : let the prisoners depart unarmed, but with provisions for their journey, let them cross the frontier, and never trouble the good land more, lest a worse thing befall them. CHAPTER V WHAT EDITH THE HANDMAIDEN SAW FROM THE WAR-SADDLE And in the fresh morning sat Gertha the Queen in the body, while her spirit was a long way off, and round about her sat the Lords and Knights with flushed joyful faces, she alone pale though calm and serene, for she too was joj^ful. 94 PROSE ROMANCES Then into the midst of the great hall they bore Leuchnar dying from his many womids, not in great pain, for his spirit was leaving his body gently, as if he were worn out merely. And Gertha rose from her throne and w^ent to meet them that bore him, and there was a flutter along the tapestry that the hall was hung with, as the wind rushed through the opened door, and therewithal Gertha woke, her spirit came again as if Olaf had sent it. So she gazed at him as he had hoped she might, as a Queen on her faithful subject : before this, often a certain uneasy feeling, not pity exactly, used to come across her when she saw him ; it used to seem such a hard thing to her that it should be thus ; it was just such a feeling as might have turned to love with one less constant than Gertha : but now even this was gone, and Leuchnar felt that it was so, even by the look of her eyes upon him. And he, raising himself, hardly said to her, ' Queen Gertha, I am come to say farewell for a little.' ' Poor Leuchnar, who loved me so ! ' *Nay,' he said, ' happy Leuchnar, who loves you still ! in the time to come it may be that lovers, when they have not all they wish for, will say, " Oh ! that we might be as Leuchnar, who died for Queen Gertha in the old time ! " ' ' True,' she said, ' farewell, Sir Leuchnar.' Oh ! how eagerly he took her hand ! ' Happy Leuchnar,' he said faintly, then, ' Domine, in manus tuas,' and he fell asleep, his head falling back. For a short time she stood, holding his dead hand ; then gently disengaged it and laid it with the other one, crossing them downwards. Then they carried him out again silently ; and again ran that tremour through the gold wrought hangings, and her spirit had gone away again. And within a while, as the great sun rose higher, came the sound of trumpets, and the roar of the bells from all the belfries : Adolf was come. How near the end drew. GERTHA'S LOVERS 95 That noontide was windless, cloudless, and very bright, except that a soft haze had sprung up everywhere from the moist earth, into which all things far and fair melted. She came from the midst of that knot of Lords that had clustered about her, and with her dark hair loose, stood in the balcony above the people, and through the hearts of all thrilled her clear speech. ' God has been very good to us, friends, and we have conquered, and now you must let me go as you promised. And you may grieve that I must go, and wish me back often, but still I must go : it is not only because I wish to go that I must leave you, but I cannot help it : I think, nay am sure, that this also is best both for you and me. If I were Queen much longer you would be disappointed with me, yet would not say so, because you love me. ' Think now! I am but Gertha, the peasant's daughter, and I know it was only the spirit of your dead Lord working in me that made you love me so. But if I were Queen for long I should come to be only Gertha again ; so I must go. And if you will, let Barulf, who is old, but very wise, be King.' There was sad silence for a little when she had finished, then a confused sound of weeping, and sobs, and earnest wishes went up towards the balcony, where she stood with her arms lying down her side : already she looked as if she were a different kind of being from them : she said, ' Will you have Barulf for 3'our King ? if you will, say so to pleasure me ; then farewell.' They shouted, ' Barulf ! God save King Barulf ! ' and lo ! even in that shout she had vanished, like an angel that comes from heaven when God lends him, and goes to heaven again when God calls him. Gertha walked over the field of battle ; no meadow of SM'eet waving grass and lovely flowers, but something very horrible to gaze at, to pass over. Yet she did not seem to take note of any of its horrors : her handmaiden was with her ; but when they came within fifty yards of the aspen circle where he lay, she 96 PROSE ROIHANCES charged her to stop, and watch all that came to pass there, that she might tell the people hereafter. So the handmaiden sat down there on the mournful battle-field on some great war-saddle that had been thrown down there. But Gertha, when she had kissed her, left her and walked toward those aspen-trees ; she was clad in her old peasants' raiment again, and was quite without ornament of gold or jewels ; only, her black hau* hung braided on either side of her face and round about her head was a garland of yellow flowering stone-crop, such as he wore in his helmet that battle -day : but now when she entered the circle of aspens there seemed to be silence over all the earth, except that when she first stepped among the shadows of the trees, a faint breeze rose out of the south, and the lightly-hung leaves shivered, the golden haze trembled. Now although all the rest of the battle-field was trodden into bloody mud, dry now again, but loaded with all dreadful things, this spot yet kept the summer flowers, neither was there any mark of his grave. So there lay down Gertha, and the blue speedwell kissed her white cheek ; there her breath left her, and she lay very still, while the wind passed over her now and then, with hands laid across her breast. Nevertheless this was what Edith, her handmaiden, said to Barulf the King, and his Lords and Knights : ' And so I sat on the war-saddle and watched, and as my Lady stepped forward to enter that circle of trees, I saw my Lord Olaf, the King, as clearly as before he died, step forward to meet her, and he caught her in his arms, and kissed her on the mouth and on both cheeks. ' And they two were together there for hours (talking it seemed), sometimes sitting on the flowers and grass ; (for that spot, my lords, is not trodden as the rest of the field is ;) sometimes walking from tree to tree with fingers interlaced. But just about sunset time, I felt as if I must needs go and speak to my dear Lady once again, and hold her hand again : so I went up trembling ; and lo ! my Lord GERTHA'S LOVERS 97 Olaf was not there any more, and I saw ni}'^ Lady Gertha only, lying dead upon the flowers, with her hands crossed over her breast, and a soft wind that came from the place where the sun had set shook the aspen leaves. So I came away.' Thereat the King and his Knights wondered. And the People raised a mighty Church above the place where they lay, in memory of Olaf's deeds and Gertha's love : and soon about the Church there gathered a fair City, that was very famous in the after-time. Yet it was strange that this Church, though the people wrought at it with such zeal and love, was never finished : something told them to stop by then they had reached the transepts of it : and to this day the mighty fragment, still unfinished, towering so high above the city roofs toward the sky, seems like a mountain cliff that went a-wandering once, and by earnest longing of the low- lauders was stayed among the poplar trees for ever. MORRIS SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN {Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, August 1 856) A King in the olden time ruled over a mighty nation : a proud man he must have been, any man who was king of that nation : hundreds of lords, each a prince over many people, sat about him in the council chamber, under the dim vault, that was blue like the vault of heaven, and shone with innumerable glistenings of golden stars. North, south, east, and west, spread that land of his, the sea did not stop it ; his empire clomb the high mountains, and spread abroad its arms over the valleys of them ; all along the sea-line shone cities set with their crowns of towers in the midst of broad bays, each fit, it seemed, to be a harbour for the navies of all the world. Inland the pastures and cornlands lay, chequered much with climbing, over-tumbling grape-vines, under the sun that crumbled their clods, and drew up the young wheat in the spring time, under the rain that made the long grass soft and fine, under all fair fertilizing influences : the streams leapt down from the mountain tops, or cleft their way through the ridged ravines : they grew great rivers, like seas each one. The mountains were cloven, and gave forth from their scarred sides wealth of ore and splendour of marble ; ail things this people that King Valdemar ruled over could do : they levelled mountains, that over the smooth roads the wains might go, laden with silk and spices from the sea : they drained lakes, that the land might yield more and more, as year by year the serfs, driven like cattle, but worse fed, worse housed, died slowly, scarce knowing that they had souls ; they builded them huge ships, and said that they were masters of the sea too ; only, I trow the sea was an unruly subject, and often sent them back their ships cut into more pieces SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN 99 than the pines of them were, when the adze first fell upon them ; they raised towers, and bridges, and marble palaces with endless corridors rose-scented, and cooled with welling fountains. They sent great armies and fleets to all the points of heaven that the wind blows from, who took and burned many happy cities, wasted many fields and valleys, blotted out from the memory of men the names of nations, made their men's lives a hopeless shame and misery to them, their women's lives disgrace, and then — came home to have flowers thrown on them in showers, to be feasted and called heroes. Should not then their king be proud of them ? More- over they could fashion stone and brass into the shapes of men ; they could write books ; they knew the names of the stars, and their number ; they knew what moved the passions of men in the hearts of them, and could draw you up cunningly, catalogues of virtues and vices ; their wise men could prove to you that any lie was true, that any truth was false, till your head grew dizzy, and your heart sick, and you almost doubted if there were a God. Should not then their king be proud of them ? Their men were strong in body, and moved about gracefull}^ — like dancers ; and the purple-black, scented hair of their gold-clothed knights seemed to shoot out rays under the blaze of light that shone like many suns in the king's halls. Their women's faces were very fair in red and white, their skins fair and half transparent like the marble of their mountains, and their voices sounded like the rising of soft music from step to step of their own white palaces. Should not then their king be proud of such a people, Avho seemed to help so in carrying on the world to its consummate perfection, which they even hoped their grandchildren would see ? Alas ! alas ! they were slaves — king and priest, noble and burgher, just as much as the meanest tasked serf, perhaps more even than he, for they were so willingly, but he unwillingly enough. H 2 100 PROSE ROMANCES They could do everything but justice, and truth, and mercy; therefore God's judgments hung over their heads, not fallen yet, but surely to fall one time or other. For ages past they had warred against one people only, whom they could not utterly subdue : a feeble people in numbers, dwelling in the very midst of them, among the mountains ; yet now they were pressing them close ; acre after acre, with seas of blood to purchase each acre, had been wrested from the free people, and their end seemed drawing near ; and this time the king, Valdemar, had marched to their land with a great army, to make war on them, he boasted to himself, almost for the last time. A walled town in the free land ; in that town, a house built of rough, splintery stones ; and in a great low- browed room of that house, a grey-haired man pacing to and fro impatiently : ' Will she never come ? ' he says, ' it is two hours since the sun set ; news, too, of the enemy's being in the land ; how dreadful if she is taken ! ' His great broad face is marked with many furrows made by the fierce restless energy of the man ; but there is a wearied look on it, the look of a man who, having done his best, is yet beaten ; he seemed to long to be gone and be at peace : he, the fighter in many battles, who often had seemed with his single arm to roll back the whole tide of fight, felt despairing enough now ; this last invasion, he thought, must surely quite settle the matter ; wave after wave, wave after wave, had broken on that dear land and been rolled back from it, and still the hungry sea pressed on ; they must be finally drowned in that sea ; how fearfully they had been tried for their sins. Back again to his anxiety concerning Cissela, his daughter, go his thoughts, and he still paces up and down wearily, stopping now and then to gaze intently on things which he had seen a hundred times ; and the night has altogether come on. At last the blast of a horn from outside, challenge and counter-challenge, and the wicket to the court-yard is swung open ; for this house, being in a part of the city where the walls are somewhat weak, is a little fortress SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN 101 in itself, and is very carefully guarded. The old man's face brightened at the sound of the new comers, and he went toward the entrance of the house where he was met by two young knights fully armed, and a maiden. ' Thank God you are come,' he says ; but stops when he sees her face, which is quite pale, almost wild with some sorrow. ' The saints ! Cissela, what is it ? ' he says, ' Father, Eric will tell you .' Then suddenly a clang, for Eric has thrown on the ground a richly-jewelled sword, sheathed, and sets his foot on it, crunching the pearls on the sheath ; then says, flinging up his head, — ' There, father, the enemy is in the land ; may that happen to every one of them ! but for mj^ part I have accounted for two already.' ' Son Eric, son Eric, you talk for ever about yourself ; quick, tell me about Cissela instead : if you go on boasting and talking always about yourself, you will come to no good end, son, after all.' But as he says this, he smiles nevertheless, and his eye glistens. ' Well, father, listen — such a strange thing she tells us, not to be believed, if she did not tell us herself ; the enemy has suddenly got generous, one of them at least, which is something of a disappointment to me — ah ! pardon, about myself again ; and that is about myself too. Well, father, what am I to do ? — But Cissela, she wandered some way from her maidens, when — ah ! but I never could tell a story properly, let her tell it herself ; here, Cissela ! — well, well, I see she is better employed, talking namely, how should I know what ! with Siur in the window-seat yonder — but she told us that, as she wandered almost by herself, she presently heard shouts and saw many of the enemy's knights riding quickl}- towards her ; whereat she knelt only and prayed to God, who was very gracious to her ; for when, as she thought, something dreadful was about to happen, the chief of the knights (a very noble-looking man, she said) rescued her, and, after he had gazed earnestly into her face, told her she might go back again to her own home, and her maids with her, if only she would tell him where she dwelt and her name ; and withal he sent three 102 PROSE ROMANCES knights to escort her some way toward the city ; then he turned and rode away with all his knights but those three, who, when they knew that he had quite gone, she says, began to talk horribly, saying things whereof in her terror she understood the import only : then, before worse came to pass came I and slew two, as I said, and the other ran away " lustily with a good courage " ; and that is the sword of one of the slain knights, or, as one might rather call them, rascally caitiffs'. The old man's thoughts seemed to have gone wander- ing after his son had finished ; for he said nothing for some time, but at last spoke dejectedl}'. ' Eric, brave son, when I was your age I too hoped, and my hopes are come to this at last ; you are blind in your hopeful youth, Eric, and do not see that this king (for the king it certainly was) will crush us, and not the less surely because he is plainly not ungenerous, but rather a good, courteous knight. Alas ! poor old Gunnar» broken down now and ready to die, as your country is 1 How often, in the olden time, thou used'st to say to th3'self, as thou didst ride at the head of our glorious house, " this charge may finish this matter, this battle must." They passed away, those gallant fights, and still the foe pressed on, and hope, too, slowly ebbed away, as the boundaries of our land grew less and less : behold this is the last wave but one or two, and then for a sad farewell- to name and freedom. Yet, surely the end of the world must come when we are swept from off the face of the earth. God waits long, they say, before ho avenges his own.' As he was speaking, Siur and Cissela came nearer to him, and Cissela, all traces of her late terror gone from her face now, raising her lips to his bended forehead, kissed him fondly, and said, with glowing face, ' Father, how can I help our people ? Do they want deaths ? I will die. Do they want happiness ? I will live miserably through years and years, nor ever pray for death.' Some hope or other seemed growing up in his heart, and showing through his face ; and he spoke again, SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN 103 putting back the hair from off her face, and clasping it about with both his hands, while he stooped to kiss her. ' God remember your mother, Cissela ! Then it was no dream after all, but true perhaps, as indeed it seemed at the time ; but it must come quickly, that woman's deliverance, or not at all. When was it that I heard that old tale, that sounded even then true to my ears ? for we have not been punished for naught, my son ; that is not God's way. It comes across my memory somehow, mingled in a wonderful manner with the purple of the pines on the hill-side, Avith the fragrance of them borne from far towards me ; for know, my children, that in times past, long, long past now, we did an evil deed ; for our forefathers, who have been dead now, and forgiven so long ago, once mad with rage at some defeat from their enemies, fired a church, and burned therein many women who had fled thither for refuge ; and from that time a curse cleaves to us. Only they say, that at the last we may be saved from utter destruction by a woman ; I know not. God grant it may be so.' Then she said, ' Father, brother, and you. Slur, come with me to the chapel ; I wish you to witness me make an oath.' Her face was pale, her lips were pale, her golden hair was pale ; but not pale, it seemed, from any sinking of blood, but from gathering of intensest light from some- where, her eyes perhaps, for they appeared to burn inwardly. They followed the sweeping of her purple robe in silence through the low heavy-beamed passages : they entered the little chapel, dimly lighted by the moon that night, as it shone through one of the three arrow-slits of windows at the east end. There was little wealth of marble there, I trow ; little time had those fighting men for stone-smoothing. Albeit, one noted man}'^ semblances of flowers even in the dim half-light, and here and there the faces of brave men, roughly cut enough, but grand, because the hand of the carver had followed his loving heart. Neither was there gold wanting to the altar and 104 PROSE ROMANCES its canopy ; and above the low pillars of the nave hung banners, taken from the foe by the men of that house, gallant with gold and jewels. She walked up to the altar and took the blessed book of the Gospels from the left side of it ; then knelt in prayer for a moment or two, while the three men stood behind her reverently. When she rose she made a sign to them, and from their scabbards gleamed three swords in the moonlight ; then, while they held them aloft, and pointed toward the altar, she opened the book at the page whereon was painted Christ the Lord dying on the cross, pale against the gleaming gold : she said, in a firm voice, ' Christ God, who diedst for all men, so help me, as I refuse not life, happiness, even honour, for this people whom I love.' Then she kissed the face so pale against the gold, and knelt again. But when she had risen, and before she could leave the space by the altar, Siur had stepped up to her, and seized her hurriedly, folding both his arms about her ; she let herself be held there, her bosom against his ; then he held her away from him a little space, holding her by the arms near the shoulder ; then he took her hands and led them across his shoulders, so that now she held him. And thej^ said nothing ; what could they say ? Do 5^ou know any word for what they meant ? And the father and brother stood bj^, looking quite awestruck, more so they seemed than by her solemn oath. Till Siur, raising his head from where it lay, cried out aloud : ' May God forgive me as I am true to her ! hear you, father and brother ? ' Then said Cissela : ' May God help me in my need, as I am true to Siur.' And the others went, and they two were left standing there alone, with no little awe over them, strange and shy as they had never yet been to each other. Cissela shuddered, and said in a quick w^hisper : ' Siur, on your knees ! and pray that these oaths may never clash.' ' Can they, Cissela ? ' he said. SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN 105 * O love,' she cried, ' 3^011 have loosed my hand ; take it again, or I shall die Siur ! ' He took both her hands, he held them fast to his lips, to his forehead ; he said : ' No, God does not allow such things ; truth does not lie ; you are truth ; this need not be prayed for.' She said : ' Oh, forgive me ! yet — yet this old chapel is damp and cold even in the burning summer weather. O knight Siur, something strikes through me ; I praj" you kneel and pray.' He looked steadily at her for a long time without answering, as if he were trjang once for all to become indeed one with her ; then said : ' Yes, it is possible ; in no other way could you give up everything.' Then he took from off his finger a thin golden ring, and broke it in two, and gave her the one half, saying : ' When will they come together ? Then within a while thej^ left the chapel, and walked as in a dream between the dazzling lights of the hall, where the knights sat now, and between those lights sat dowai together, dreaming still the same dream each of them ; while all the knights shouted for Siur and Cissela. Even if a man had spent all his life looking for sorrowful things, even if he sought for them with all his heart and soul, and even though he had grown grey in that quest, yet would he have found nothing in all the world, or perhaps in all the stars either, so sorrowful as Cissela. They had accepted her sacrifice after long deliberation, they had arrayed her in purple and scarlet, they had crowned her with gold A\Tought about with jewels, they had spread abroad the veil of her golden hair ; j^et now, as they led her forth in the midst of the band of knights, her brother Eric holding fast her hand, each man felt like a murderer when he beheld her face, whereon was no tear, wherein was no writhing of muscle, twitching of nerve, wherein was no sorrow-mark of her OA\7i,but onl}' the sorrow-mark which God sent her, and which she must perforce wear Yet they had not caught eagerly at her offer, they had said at first almost to a man : ' Nay, this thing shall not 106 PROSE ROMANCES be, let us die altogether rather than this.' Yet as they sat, and said this, to each man of the council came floating dim memories of that curse of the burned women, and its remedy ; to many it ran rhythmically, an old song better known by the music than the words, heard once and again, long ago, when the gusty wind overmastered the chestnut-boughs, and strewed the smooth sward with their star-leaves. Withal came thoughts to each man, partly selfish, partly wise and just, concerning his own wife and children, concerning children yet unborn ; thoughts too of the glory of the old name ; all that had been suffered and done that the glorious free land might yet be a nation . And the spirit of hope, never dead but sleeping only, woke up within their hearts : ' We may yet be a people,' they said to themselves, ' if we can but get breathing time.' And as they thought these things, and doubted, Siur rose up in the midst of them and said : ' You are right in what j^'ou think, countrymen, and she is right ; she is altogether good and noble ; send her forth.' Then, with one look of utter despair at her as she stood statue-like, he left the council, lest he should fall down and die in the midst of them, he said ; yet he died not then, but lived for many years afterwards. But they rose from their seats, and when they were armed, and she royally arrayed, they went with her, leading her through the dear streets, whence you always saw the great pine -shadowed mountains ; she went away from all that was clear to her, to go and sit a crowned queen in the dreary marble palace, whose outer walls rose right up from the weary-hearted sea. She could not think, she durst not ; she feared, if she did, that she would curse her beauty, almost curse the name of love, curse Siur, though she knew he was right, for not slaying her ; she feared that she might curse God. So she thought not at all, steeping her senses utterly in forgetfulness of the happy past, destroying all anticipa- tion of the future : yet, as they left the city amid the tears of women, and fixed sorrowful gaze of men, she turned SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN 107 round once, and stretched her arms out involuntarily, like a dumb senseless thing, towards the place where she was born, and where her life grew happier day by day, and where his arms first crept round about her. She turned away and thought, but in a cold speculative manner, how it was possible that she was bearing this sorrow ; as she often before had wondered, when slight things vexed her overmuch, how people had such sorrows and lived, and almost doubted if the pain was so much greater in great sorrows than in small troubles, or whether the nobleness only was greater, the pain not sharper, but more lingering. Halfway toward the camp the king's people met her ; and over the trampled ground, where they had fought so fiercely but a little time before, they spread breadth of golden cloth, that her feet might not touch the arms of her dead countrymen, or their brave bodies. And so they came at last with many trumpet-blasts to the king's tent, who stood at the door of it, to welcome his bride that was to be : a noble man truly to look on, kindly, and genial-eyed ; the red blood sprang up over his face when she came near ; and she looked back no more, but bowed before him almost to the ground, and would have knelt, but that he caught her in his arms and kissed her ; she was pale no more now ; and the king, as he gazed delightedly at her, did not notice that sorrow-mark, which was plain enough to her ovra people. So the trumpets sounded again one long peal that seemed to make all the air reel and quiver, and the soldiers and lords shouted : ' Hurrah for the Peace - Queen, Cissela ! ' ' Come, Harald,' said a beautiful golden-haired boy to one who was plainly his younger brother, ' Come, and let us leave Robert here by the forge, and show our lady- mother this beautiful thing. Sweet master armourer, farewell.' ' Are you going to the queen then ? ' said the armourer. ' Yea,' said the boy, looking wonderingly at the strong craftsman's eager face. 108 PROSE ROMANCES ' But, nay ; let me look at you awhile longer, you remind me so much of one I loved long ago in my own land. Stay awhile till your other brother goes with you.' ' Well, I will stay, and think of what you have been telling me ; I do not feel as if I should ever think of any- thing else for long together, as long as I live.' So he sat down again on an old battered anvil, and seemed with his bright eyes to be beholding something in the land of dreams. A gallant dream it was he dreamed ; for he saw himself with his brothers and friends about him, seated on a throne, the justest king in all the earth, his people the lovingest of all people : he saw the ambassadors of the restored nations, that had been unjustly dealt with long ago ; everywhere love, and peace if possible, justice and truth at all events. Alas ! he knew not that vengeance, so long delayed, must fall at last in his life-time ; he knew not that it takes longer to restore that whose growth has been through age and age, than the few years of a life-time ; yet was the reality good, if not as good as the dream. Presently his twin-brother Robert woke him from that dream, calling out : ' Now, brother Svend, are we realh'' ready ; see here ! but stop, kneel first ; there, now am I the Bishop.' And he pulled his brother down on to his knees, and put on his head, where it fitted loosely enough now, hanging down from left to right, an iron crown fantasti- cally wrought, which he himself, having just finished it, had taken out of the water, cool and dripping. Robert and Harald laughed loud when they saw the crown hanging all askew, and the great drops rolling from it into Svend's eyes and down his cheeks, looking like tears : not so Svend ; he rose, holding the crown level on his head, holding it back, so that it pressed against his brow hard, and, first dashing the drops to right and left, caught his brother by the hand, and said : ' May I keep it, Robert ? I shall wear it some day.' Yea,' said the other ; ' but it is a poor thing ; better let Siur put it in the furnace again and make it into sword hilts.' SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN 109 Thereupon they began to go, Svend holding the crown in his hand : but as they were going, Siur called out : ' Yet will I sell my dagger at a price, Prince Svend, even as you wished at first, rather than give it you for nothing.' ' Well, for what ? ' said Svend, somewhat shortly, for he thought Siur was going back from his promise, which seemed ugly to him. ' Nay, be not angry, prince,' said the armourer, ' only I pray you to satisfy this whim of mine ; it is the first favour I have asked of you : will you ask the fair, noble lady, your mother, from Siur the smith, if she is happy now ? ' ' Willingly, sweet master Siur, if it pleases you ; farewell.' And with happy young faces they went away ; and when they were gone, Siur from a secret place drew out various weapons and armour, and began to work at them, having first drawn bolt and bar of his workshop carefully. Svend, with Harald and Robert his two brethren, went their ways to the queen, and found her sitting alone in a fair court of the palace full of flowers, with a marble cloister round about it ; and when she saw them coming, she rose up to meet them, her three fair sons. Truly as that right royal woman bent over them lovingly, there seemed little need of Siur's question. So Svend showed her his dagger, but not the crown ; and she asked many questions concerning Siur the smith, about his way of talking and his face, the colour of his hair even, till the boys wondered, she questioned them so closely, with beaming eyes and glowing cheeks, so that Svend thought he had never before seen his mother look so beautiful. Then Svend said : ' And, mother, don't be angry with Siur, will you ? because he sent a message to you by me.' ' Angry ! ' and straightway her soul was wandering where her body could not come, and for a moment or two she was living as before, with him close by her, in the old mountain land. ' Well, mother, he wanted me to ask you if you were happy now.' no PROSE ROMANCES ' Did he, Svend, this man with brown hair, grizzled as 3^ou say it is now ? Is his hair soft then, this Siur, going down on to his shoulders in waves ? and his eyes, do they glow steadily, as if lighted up from his heart ? and how does he speak ? Did you not tell me that his words led you, whether you would or no, into dreamland ? Ah well ! tell him I am happy, but not so happy as w^e shall be, as we were. And so you, son Robert, are getting to be quite a cumiing smith ; but do you think you will ever beat Siur ? ' ' Ah, mother, no,' he said, ' there is something with him that makes him seem quite infinitely beyond all other workmen I have ever heard of.' Some memory coming from that dreamland smote upon her heart more than the others ; she blushed like a young girl, and said hesitatingly : ^ ' Does he work with his left hand, son Robert ; for I have heard that some men do so ? ' But in her heart she remembered how once, long ago in the old mountain country, in her father's house, some one had said that only men who were born so, could do cunningly with the left hand ; and how Siur, then quite a boy, had said, ' Well, I will try : ' and how, in a month or two, he had come to her with an armlet of silver, very curiously WTOUght, which he had done with his own left hand. So Robert said : ' Yea, mother, he works with his left hand almost as much as Avith his right, and sometimes I have seen him change the hammer suddenly from his right hand to his left, with a kind of half smile, as one who would say, " Cannot I then ? " and this more when he does smith's work in metal than when he works in marble ; and once I heard him say when he did so, "I wonder where my first left hand work is ; ah ! I bide my time." I wonder also, mother, what he meant by that.' She answered no word, but shook her arm free from its broad sleeve, and something glittered on it, near her wrist, something wrought out of silver set with quaint and uncouthly-cut stones of little value. In the council chamber, among the lords, sat Svend SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN 111 and his six brethren ; he chief of all in the wielding of sword or axe, in the government of people, in drawing the love of men and women to him ; perfect in face and body, in wisdom and strength was Svend : next to him sat Robert, cunning in working of marble, or wood, or brass ; all things could he make to look as if they lived, from the sweep of an angel's wings down to the slipping of a little field-mouse from under the sheaves in the harvest-time. Then there Avas Harald, who knew con- cerning all the stars of heaven and flowers of earth : Richard, who drew men's hearts from their bodies, with the words that swung to and fro in his glorious rhymes : William, to whom the air of heaven seemed a servant when the harp-strings quivered underneath his fingers : there were the two sailor-brothers, who the year before, 3^oung though they were, had come back from a long, perilous voyage, with news of an island they had found long and long away to the west, larger than any that this people knew of, but very fair and good, though uninhabited. But now over all this noble brotherhood with its various gifts hung one cloud of sorrow ; their mother, the Peace-Queen Cissela was dead, she who had taught them truth and nobleness so well ; she was never to see the beginning of the end that they would work ; truly it seemed sad. There sat the seven brothers in the council chamber, waiting for the king, speaking no word, only thinking drearily ; and under the pavement of the great church Cissela lay, and by the side of her tomb stood two men, old men both, Valdemar the king, and Siur. So the king, after that he had gazed awhile on the carven face of her he had loved well, said at last : ' And now. Sir Carver, must you carve me also to lie there.' And he pointed to the vacant space by the side of the fair alabaster figure. ' king,' said Siur, ' except for a very few strokes on steel, I have done work now, having carved the queen there ; I cannot do this thing for you.' What was it sent a sharp pang of bitterest suspicion 112 PROSE ROMANCES through the very heart of the poor old man ? he looked steadfastly at him for a moment or two, as if he would know all secrets ; he could not, he had not strength of life enough to get to the bottom of things ; doubt vanished soon from his heart and his face under Siur's pitying gaze ; he said, ' Then perhaps I shall be my own statue,' and therewithal he sat down on the edge of the low marble tomb, and laid his right arm across her breast ; he fixed his eyes on the eastern belt of windows, and sat quite motionless and silent ; and he never knew that she loved him not. But Siur, when he had gazed at him for awhile, stole away quietly, as we do when we fear to awaken a sleeper ; and the king never turned his head, but still sat there, never moving, scarce breathing, it seemed. Siur stood in his own great hall (for his house was large), he stood before the dais, and saw a fair sight, the work of his own hands For, fronting him, against the wall were seven thrones, and behind them a cloth of samite of purple wrought with golden stars, and barred across from right to left with long bars of silver and crimson, and edged below with melancholy, fading green, like a September sunset ; and opposite each throne was a glittering suit of armour wrought wonderfully in bright steel, except that on the breast of each suit was a face worked marvellously in enamel, the face of Cissela in a glory of golden hair ; and the glory of that gold spread away from the breast on all sides, and ran cunningly along with the steel rings, in such a Avay as it is hard even to imagine : moreover, on the crest of each helm was wrought the phoenix, the never-dying bird, the only creature that knows the sun ; and by each suit lay a gleaming sword terrible to look at, steel from pommel to point, but wrought along the blade in burnished gold that outflashed the gleam of the steel, was written in fantastic letters the word ' Westward '. So Siur gazed till he heard footsteps coming ; then he turned to meet them. And Svend and his brethren sat silent in the council chamber, till they heard a great SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN 113 noise and clamour of the people arise through all the streets ; then they rose to see what it might be. Mean- while on the low marble tomb, under the dim sweeping vault sat, or rather lay, the king ; for, though his right arm still lay over her breast, his head had fallen forward, and rested now on the shoulder of the marble queen. There he lay, with strange confusion of his scarlet, gold- WTOught robes ; silent, motionless, and dead. The seven brethren stood together on a marble terrace of the royal palace, that was dotted about on the balusters of it with white statues : they were helmetted, and armed to the teeth, only over their armour great black cloaks were thrown. Now the whole great terrace was a-sway with the crowd of nobles and princes, and others that were neither nobles or princes, but true men only ; and these were helmetted and wrapped in black cloaks even as the princes were, only the crests of the princes' helms were wrought wonderfully with that bird, the phoenix, all flaming with new power, dying because its old body is not strong enough for its new-found power : and those on that terrace who were unarmed had anxious faces, some fearful, some stormy with Devil's rage at disappoint- ment ; but among the faces of those helmed ones, though here and there you might see a pale face, there was no fear or rage, scarcely even any anxiety, but calm, brave joy seemed to be on all. Above the heads of all men on that terrace shone out Svend's brave face, the golden hair flowing from out of his helmet : a smile of quiet confidence overflowing from his mighty heart, in the depths of which it was dwelling, just showed a very little on his eyes and lips. While all the vast square, and all the wmdows and roofs even of the houses over against the palace, were alive with an innumerable sea of troubled raging faces, showing white, upturned from the undersea of their many-coloured raiment ; the murmur from them was like the sough of the first tempest -wind among the pines ; and the gleam of spears here and there like the last few gleams of the sun through the woods when the black MORRIS I 114 PROSE ROMANCES thunder-clouds come up over all, soon to be shone through, those woods, by the gleam of the deep lightning. Also sometimes the murmur would swell, and from the heart of it would come a fierce, hoarse, tearing, shattering roar, strangely discordant, of ' War ! War ! give us war, king ! ' Then Svend stepping forward, his arms hidden under his long cloak as they hung down quietly, the smile on his face broadening somewhat, sent from his chest a mighty, effortless voice over all .the raging : ' Hear, O ye people ! War with all that is ugly and base ; peace with all that is fair and good. — NO WAR with my brother's people.' Just then one of those unhelmetted, creeping round about stealthily to the place where Svend stood, lifted his arm and smote at him with a dagger ; whereupon Svend, clearing his right arm from his cloak with his left, lifted up his glittering right hand, and the traitor fell to the earth groaning with a broken jaw, for Svend had smitten him on the mouth a backward blow with his open hand. One shouted from the crowd, ' Aye, murderer Svend, slay our good nobles, as you poisoned the king your father, that you and your false brethren might oppress us with the memory of that Devil's witch, your mother ! ' The smile left Svend's face and heart now, he looked very stern as he said : ' Hear, ye people ! In years past when I was a boy my dream of dreams was ever this, how I should make you good, and because good, happy, when I should become king over you ; but as year Tjy year passed 1 saw my dream flitting ; the deep colours of it changed, faded, grew grey in the light of coming manhood ; nevertheless, God be my witness, that I have ever striven to make you just and true, hoping against hope continually ; and I had even determined to bear every- thing and stay with you, even though you should remain unjust and liars, for the sake of the few who really love me : but now, seeing that God has made you mad, and that his vengeance will speedil}^ fall, take heed how j^ou SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN 115 cast out from you all that is good and true-hearted ! Once more — which choose you, Peace or War ? ' Between the good and the base, in the midst of the passionate faces and changing colours stood the great terrace, cold, and calm, and white, with its changeless statues ; and for awhile there was silence. Broken through at last by a yell, and the sharp \\ hirr of arrows, and the cling, clang, from the armour of the terrace as Prince Harald staggered though unhurt, struck by the broad point on the helmet. ' What ! War ? ' shouted Svend wrathfully, and his voice sounded like a clap of thunder following the lightning flash when a tower is struck. ' What ! war ? swords for Svend ! round about the king, good men and true ! Sons of the golden -haired, show these men WAR.' As he spoke he let his black cloak fall, and up from their sheaths sprang seven swords, steel from pommel to point only ; on the blades of them in fantastic letters of gold, shone the word WESTWARD. Then all the terrace gleamed with steel, and amid the hurtling of stones and whizz of arrows they began to go westward . The streets ran with blood, the air was filled with groans and curses, the low waves nearest the granite pier were edged with blood, because they first caught the drippings of the blood. Then those of the people who durst stay on the pier saw the ships of Svend's little fleet leaving one b}^ one ; for he had taken aboard those ten ships whosoever had prayed to go, even at the last moment, wounded, or dying even ; better so, for in their last moments came thoughts of good things to many of them, and it was good to be among the true. But those haughty ones left behind, sullen and untamed, but with a horrible indefinable dread on them that was worse than death, or mere pain, howsoever fierce — these saw all the ships go out of the harbour merrily with swelling sail and dashing oar, and with joyous singing of those aboard ; and Svend's was the last of all. I 2 116 PROSE ROMANCES Whom they saw kneel down on the deck unhelmed, then all sheathed their swords that were about him ; and the Prince Robert took from Svend's hand an iron crown fantastically wrought, and placed it on his head as he knelt ; then he continued kneeling still, till, as the ship drew further and further away from the harbour, all things aboard of her became indistinct. And they never saw Svend and his brethren again. Here ends what William the Englishman wTOte ; but afterwards (in the night-time) he found the book of a certain chronicler which saith : ' In the spring-time, in May, the 550th year from the death of Svend the wonderful king, the good knights, sailing due eastward, came to a harbour of a land they knew not : wherein they saw many goodly ships, but of a strange fashion like the ships of the ancients, and destitute of any mariners : besides they saw no beacons for the guidance of seamen, nor was there any sound of bells or singing, though the city was vast, with many goodly towers and palaces. So when they landed they found that which is hardly to be believed, but which is nevertheless true : for about the quays and about the streets lay many people dead, or stood, but quite without motion, and they were all white or about the colour of new-hewn freestone, yet were they not statues but real men, for they had, some of them, ghastly wounds which showed their entrails, and the structure of their flesh, and veins, and bones. ' Moreover the streets were red and wet with blood, and the harbour waves were red with it, because it dripped in great drops slowly from the quays. ' Then when the good knights saw this, they doubted not but that it was a fearful punishment on this people for sins of theirs ; thereupon they entered into a church of that city and prayed God to pardon them ; afterwards, going back to their ships, sailed away marvelling. ' And I John who wrote this history saw all this with mine own eyes.' LINDENBORG POOL^ {Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, September 1856) I READ once in lazy humour Thorpe's ' Northern Mythology,' on a cold May night when the north wind was blowing ; in lazy humour, but when I came to the tale that is here amplified there was something in it that fixed my attention and made me think of it ; and whether I would or no, my thoughts ran in this way, as here follows. So I felt obliged to write, and wrote accordingh', and by the time I had done the grey light filled all my room ; so I put out my candles, and went to bed, not without fear and trembling, for the morning twilight is so strange and lonely. This is what I ^n■ote. Yes, on that dark night, with that wild unsteady north wind howling, though it was Maytime, it was doubtless dismal enough in the forest, where the boughs clashed eerily, and where, as the wanderer in that place hurried along, strange forms half showed themselves to him, the more fearful because half seen in that way : dismal enough doubtless on wide moors where the great wind had it all its own way : dismal on the rivers creeping on and on between the marshlands, creeping through the willows, the water trickling through the locks, sounding faintly in the gusts of the wind. Yet surely nowhere so dismal as by the side of that still pool. I threw mj^self down on the ground there, utterh^ exhausted with my struggle against the wind, and with bearing the fathoms and fathoms of the heavily-leaded plumb-line that lay beside me. Fierce as the wind was, it could not raise the leaden waters of that fearful pool, defended as they were by . ^ See Thorpe's ' Northern Mj^thology ', vol. ii, p. 214. 118 PROSE ROMANCES the steep banks of dripping yellow clay, striped horribly here and there with ghastly uncertain green and blue. They said no man could fathom it ; and yet all round the edges of it grew a rank crop of dreary reeds and segs, some round, some flat, but none ever flowering as other things flowered, never dying and being renewed, but always the same stiff array of unbroken reeds and segs, some round, some flat. Hard by me were two trees leafless and ugly, made, it seemed, only for the wind to go through with a wild sough on such nights as these ; and for a mile from that place were no other trees. True, I could not see all this at that time, then, in the dark night, but I knew well that it was all there ; for much had I studied this pool in the day-time, trying to learn the secret of it ; many hours I had spent there, happy with a kind of happiness, because forgetful of the past. And even now, could I not hear the wind going through those trees, as it never went through any trees before or since ? could I not see gleams of the dismal moor ? could I not hear those reeds just taken by the wind, knocking against each other, the flat ones scraping all along the round ones ? Could I not hear, moreover, the slow trickling of the land-springs through the clay banks ? The cold, chill horror of the place was too much for me ; I had never been there by night before, nobody had for quite a long time, and now to come on such a night ! If there had been any moon, the place would have looked more as it did by day ; besides, the moon shining on water is always so beautiful, on any water even : if it had been starlight, one could have looked at the stars and thought of the time when those fields were fertile and beautiful (for such a time was, I am sure), when the cowslips grew among the grass, and when there was promise of yellow-waving corn stained with poppies ; that time which the stars had seen, but which we had never seen, which even they would never see again — past time ! Ah ! what was that which touched my shoulder ? — Yes, I see. only a dead leaf. — Yes, to be here on this LINDENBORG POOL 119 eighth of May too of all nights in the year, the night of that awful day when ten years ago I slew him, not undeservedly, God knows, yet how dreadful it was ! — Another leaf ! and another ! — Strange, those trees have been dead this hundred years, I should think. How sharp the wind is too, just as if I were moving along and meeting it ; — why, I am moving ! what then, I am not there after all ; where am I then ? there are the trees ; no, they are freshly-planted oak saplings, the very ones that those withered last-year's leaves were blown on me from. I have been dreaming then, and am on my road to the lake : but what a young wood ! I must have lost my way ; I never saw all this before. Well — I will walk on stoutly. May the Lord help my senses ! I am riding ! — on a mule ; a bell tinkles somewhere on him ; the wind blows something about with a flapping sound : some- thing ? in Heaven's name, what ? My long black robes. — Why — when I left my house I was clad in serviceable broadcloth of the nineteenth century. I shall go mad — I am mad — I am gone to the Devil — I have lost my identity ; who knows in what place, in what age of the world I am living now ? Yet I will be calm ; I have seen all these things before, in pictures surely, or something like them. I am resigned, since it is no worse than that. I am a priest then, in the dim, far-off thirteenth century, riding, about midnight I should say, to carry the blessed sacrament to some dying man. Soon I found that I was not alone ; a man was riding close to me on a horse ; he was fantastically dressed, more so than usual for that time, being striped all over in vertical stripes of yellow and green, with quaint birds like exaggerated storks in different attitudes counter- changed on the stripes ; all this I saw by the lantern he carried, in the light of which his debauched black eyes quite flashed. On he went, unsteadily rolling, very drunk, though it was the thirteenth century, but being plainly used to that, he sat his horse fairly well. 120 PROSE ROMANCES I watched him in my proper nineteenth-century character, with insatiable curiosity and intense amuse- ment ; but as a quiet priest of a long-past age, wdth contempt and disgust enough, not unmixed with fear and anxiety. He roared out snatches of doggrel verse as he went along, drinking songs, hunting songs, robbing songs, lust-songs, in a voice that sounded far and far above the roaring of the wind, though that was high, and rolled along the dark road that his lantern cast spikes of light along ever so far, making the devils grin : and meanwhile I, the priest, glanced from him wrathfully every now and then to That which I carried very reverently in my hand, and my blood curdled with shame and indignation ; but being a shrewd priest, I knew well enough that a sermon would be utterly thrown away on a man who was drunk every day in the year, and, more especially, very drunk then. So I held my peace, saying only under my breath : ' Dixit insipiens in corde suo, Non est Deus. Corrupt! sunt et abominabiles facti sunt in studiis suis; non est qui faciat bonum, non est usque ad unum : sepulchrum patens est guttur eorum; Unguis suis dolose agebant, venenum aspidum sub labiis eorum. Dominum non invocaverunt; illic trepidaverunt timore, ubi non erat timor. Quis dabit ex Sion salutare Israel ? ' and so I went on, thinking too at times about the man who was djang and whom I was soon to see : he had been a bold bad plundering baron, but was said lately to have altered his way of life, having seen a miracle or some such thing ; he had departed to keep a tournament near his castle lately, but had been brought back sore wounded, so this drunken servant, with some difficulty and much unseasonable merriment, had made me under- stand, and now lay at the point of death, brought about by unskilful tending and such like. Then I thought of his face — a bad face, very bad, retreating forehead, small twinkling eyes, projecting lower jaw ; and such a voice, too, he had ! like the grunt of a boar mostly. Now don't you think it strange that this face should be the same, actually the same as the face of my enemy, LINDENBORG POOL 121 slain that very day ten years ago ? I did not hate him, either that man or the baron, but I wanted to see as little of him as possible, and I hoped that the ceremony would soon be over, and that I should be at liberty again. And so with these thoughts and many others, but all thought strangely double, we went along, the varlet being too drunk to take much notice of me, only once, as he was singing some doggrel, like this, I think, making allowances for change of language and so forth ; ' The Duke went to Treves On the first of November ; His wife stay'd at Bonn — Let me see, I remember ; 'When the Duke came back To look for his wife. We came from Cologne, And took the Duke's life ; * We hung him mid high Between spire and pavement. From their mouths dropp'd the cabbage Of the carles in amazement.' ' Boo — hoo ! Church -rat ! Church-mouse ! Hilloa, Priest ! have j^ou brought the p3^x, eh ? ' From some cause or other he seemed to think this an excellent joke, for he almost shrieked with laughter as we went along ; but by this time we had reached the castle. Challenge, and counter-challenge, and we passed the outermost gate and began to go through some of the courts, in which stood lime trees here and there, growing green tenderly Avith that Maytime, though the north wind bit so keenly. How strange again ! as I went farther, there seemed no doubt of it ; here in the aftertime came that pool, how I knew not ; but in the few moments that we were riding from the outer gate to the castle-porch I thought so intensely over the probable cause for the existence of that pool, that (how strange !) I could almost have thought I was back again listening to the oozing of the land -springs through the high clay banks there. I was wakened from that, before it grew too strong, by the 122 PROSE ROMANCES glare of many torches, and, dismounting, found myself in the midst of some twenty attendants, with flushed faces and wildly sparkling eyes, which they were vainly trying to soften to due solemnity ; mock solemnity I had almost said, for they did not seem to think it necessary to appear really solemn, and had difficulty enough apparently in not prolonging indefinitely the shout of laughter with which they had at first greeted me. ' Take the holy Father to my Lord,' said one at last, ' and we will go with him.' So they led me up the stairs into the gorgeously- furnished chamber ; the light from the heavy waxen * candles was pleasant to my eyes after the glare and twisted red smoke of the pine -torches ; but all the essences scattered about the chamber were not enough to conquer the fiery breath of those about me. I put on the alb and stole they brought me, and, before I went up to the sick man, looked round on those that were in the rooms ; for the rooms opened one into the other by many doors, across some of which hung gorgeous tapestry ; all the rooms seemed to have many people, for some stood at these doors, and some passed to and fro, swinging aside the heavy hangings ; once several people at once, seemingly quite by accident, drew aside almost all the veils from the doors, and showed an endless perspective of gorgeousness. And at these things my heart fainted for horror. ' Had not the Jews of late,' thought I, the priest, ' been very much in the habit of crucifying children in mockery of the Holiest, holding gorgeous feasts while they beheld the poor innocents die ? these men are Atheists, you are in a trap, yet quit yourself like a man.' ' Ah, sharp one,' thought I, the author, ' where are you at last ? try to pray as a test. — Well, well, these things are strangely like devils. — man, you have talked about bravery often, now is your time to practise it : once for all trust in God, or I fear you are lost.' Moreover it increased my horror that there was no appearance of a woman in all these rooms ; and yet was there not ? there, those things — I looked more intently ; LINDENBORG POOL 123 yes, no doubt they were women, but all dressed like men ; — what a ghastly place ! ' O man ! do your duty,' my angel said ; then in spite of the bloodshot eyes of man and woman there, in spite of their bold looks, they quailed before me. I stepped up to the bedside, where under the velvet coverlid lay the dying man, his small sparkling eyes only (but dulled now by coming death) showing above the swathings. I was about to kneel down by the bedside to confess him, when one of those — things — called out (now they had just been whispering and sniggering together, but the priest in his righteous, brave scorn would not look at them ; the humbled author, half fearful, half trustful, dared not) : so one called out : ' Sir Priest, for three days our master has spoken no articulate word ; you must pass over all particulars ; ask for a sign only.' Such a strange ghastly suspicion flashed across me just then ; but I choked it, and asked the dying man if he repented of his sins, and if he believed all that was necessary to salvation, and, if so, to make a sign, if he were able : the man moved a little and groaned ; so I took it for a sign, as he was clearly incapable either of speaking or moving, and accordingly began the service for the administration of the sacraments ; and as I began, those behind me and through all the rooms (I know it was through all of them) began to move about, in a bewildering clance-like motion, mazy and intricate ; yes, and presently music struck up through all those rooms, music and singing, lively and gay ; many of the tunes I had heard before (in the nineteenth century) ; I could have sworn to half a dozen of the polkas. The rooms grew fuller and fuller of people ; they passed thick and fast between the rooms, and the hang- ings were continually rustling ; one fat old man with a big belly crept under the bed where I was, and wheezed and chuckled there, laughing and talking to one who stooped down and lifted up the hangings to look at him. Still more and more people talking and singing and 124 PROSE ROMANCES laughing and twirling about, till my brain went round and round, and I scarce knew what I did ; yet, somehow, I could not leave off ; I dared not even look over my shoulder, fearing lest I should see something so horrible as to make me die. So I got on with the service, and at last took the Pyx, and took thereout the sacred wafer, whereupon was a deep silence through all those rooms, which troubled me, I think, more than all w^hich had gone before, for I knew well it did not mean reverence. I held it up, that which I counted so holy, when lo ! great laughter, echoing like thunder-claps through all the rooms, not dulled by the veiling hangings, for they were all raised up together, and, with a slow upheaval of the rich clothes among which he lay, with a sound that was half snarl, half grunt, wdth helpless body swathed in bedclothes, a huge swine that I had been shriving tore from me the Holy Thing, deeply scoring my hand as he did so with tusk and tooth, so that the red blood ran quick on to the floor. Therewithal he rolled down on to the floor, and lay there helplessly, only able to roll to and fro, because of the swathings. Then right madly skirled the intolerable laughter, rising to shrieks that were fearfuller than any scream of agony I ever heard ; the hundreds of people through all those grand rooms danced and wheeled about me, shrieking, hemming me in with interlaced arms, the women loosing their long hair and thrusting forward their horribly-grinning unsexed faces toward me till I felt their hot breath. Oh ! how I hated them all ! almost hated all mankind for their sakes ; how I longed to get right quit of all men ; among whom, as it seemed, all sacredest things even were made a mock of. I looked about me fiercely, I sprang forward, and clutched a sword from the gilded belt of one of those who stood near me ; wdth savage blows that threw the blood about the gilded walls and their hangings right over the heads of those — things — I cleared myself from them, and tore down the great LINDENBORG POOL 125 stairs madly, yet could not, as in a dream, go fast enough, because of my passion. I was out in the courtyard, among the lime trees soon, the north wind blowing freshly on my heated forehead in that dawn. The outer gate was locked and bolted ; I stooped and raised a great stone and sent it at the lock with all my strength, and I was stronger than ten men then ; iron and oak gave way before it, and through the ragged splmters I tore m reckless fury, like a wild horse through a hazel hedge. And no one had pursued me. I knelt down on the dear green turf outside, and thanked God with streaming eyes for my deliverance, praying Him forgiveness for my unwilling share in that night's mockery. Then I arose and turned to go, but even as I did so I heard a roar as if the world were coming in two, and looking toward the castle, saw, not a castle, but a great cloud of white lime-dust swaying this way and that in the gusts of the wind. Then while the east grew bright there arose a hissing, gurgling noise, that swelled into the roar and Mash of many waters, and by then the sun had risen a deep black lake lay before my feet. And this is how I tried to fathom the Lindenborg Pool. THE HOLLOW LAND. A TALE {Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, September and October 1856) CHAPTER I Struggling in the World We find in ancient story wonders many told, Of heroes in great glory, with spirit free and bold ; Of joyances and high-tides, of weeping and of woe. Of noble recken striving, mote ye now wonders know. NiEBELDNGEN LiED (see Carlyle's Miscellanies). Do you know where it is — the Hollow Land ? I have been looking for it now so long, trying to find it again — the Hollow Land — for there I saw my love first. I wish to tell you how I found it first of all ; but I am old, my memory fails me : you must wait and let me think if I perchance can tell you how it happened. Yea, in my ears is a confused noise of trumpet-blasts singing over desolate moors, in my ears and eyes a clashing and clangmg of horse -hoofs, a ringing and glittering of steel ; drawn-back lips, set teeth, shouts, shrieks, and curses. How was it that no one of us ever found it till that day ? for it is near our country : but what time have we to look for it, or any good thing ; with such biting carking cares hemming us in on every side — cares about great things — mighty things : mighty things, O my brothers ! or rather little things enough, if we only knew it. Lives past in turmoil, in making one another unhappy; in bitterest misunderstanding of our brothers' hearts, making those sad whom God has not made sad, — alas, alas ! what chance for any of us to find the Hollow Land ? what time even to look for it ? Yet who has not dreamed of it ? Who, half miserable yet the while, for that he knows it is but a dream, has THE HOLLOW LAND 127 not felt the cool waves round his feet, the roses crowning him, and through the leaves of beech and lime the many whispering winds of the Hollow Land ? Now, my name was Florian, and my house was the house of the Lilies ; and of that house was my father Lord, and after him my eldest brother Arnald ; and me they called Florian de Liliis. Moreover, when my father was dead, there arose a feud between the Lilies' house and Red Harald ; and this that follows is the historj^ of it. Lady Swanhilda, Red Harald's mother, was a widow, with one son. Red Harald ; and when she had been in widowhood two years, being of princely blood, and besides comely and fierce, King Urrayne sent to demand her in marriage. And I remember seeing the procession leaving the town, when I w^as quite a child ; and many young knights and squires attended the Lady vSwanhilda as pages, and amongst them Arnald, my eldest brother. And as I gazed out of the window, I saw him walking by the side of her horse, dressed in white and gold very delicately ; but as he went it chanced that he stumbled. Now he was one of those that held a golden canopy over the lady's head, so that it now sunk into wrinkles, and the lady had to bow her head full low, and even then the gold brocade caught in one of the long slim gold flowers that were wrought round about the crown she wore. She flushed up in her rage, and her smooth face went suddenly into the carven WTinkles of a wooden water- spout, and she caught at the brocade with her left hand, and pulled it aAvay furiously, so that the warp and woof were twisted out of their places, and many gold threads were left dangling about the crown ; but Swanhilda stared about when she rose, then smote my brother across the mouth with her gilded sceptre, and the red blood flowed all about his garments ; yet he only turned exceeding pale, and dared say no word, though he was heir to the house of the Lilies : but my small heart swelled with rage, and I rowed revenge, and, as it seems, he did too. So when Swanhilda had been queen three j^ears, she 128 PROSE ROMANCES suborned many of King Urrayne's knights and lords, and slew her husband as he slept, and reigned in his stead. And her son, Harald, grew up to manhood, and was counted a strong knight, and well spoken of, by then I first put on my armour. Then, one night, as I lay dreaming, I felt a hand laid on my face, and starting up saw Arnald before me fully armed. He said, ' Florian, rise and arm.' I did so, all but my helm, as he was. He kissed me on the forehead ; his lips felt hot and dry ; and when they brought torches, and I could see his face plainly, I saw he was very pale. He said : ' Do you remember, Florian, this day sixteen years ago ? It is a long time, but I shall never forget it unless this night blots out its memory.' I knew what he meant, and because my heart was wicked, I rejoiced exceedingly at the thought of ven- geance, so that I could not speak, but only laid my palm across his lips. ' Good ; you have a good memory, Florian. See now, I waited long and long : I said at first, I forgive her ; but when the news came concerning the death of the king, and how that she was shameless, I said I will take it as a sign, if God does not punish her within certain years, that He means me to do so ; and I have been watching and watching now these two years for an opportunity, and behold it is come at last ; and I think God has certainly given her into our hands, for she rests this night, this very Christmas Eve, at a small walled town on the frontier, not two hours' gallop from this ; they keep little ward there, and the night is wild : moreover, the prior of a certain house of monks, just without the walls, is my fast friend in this matter, for she has done him some great injury. In the courtyard below, a hundred and fifty knights and squires, all faithful and true, are waiting for us : one moment and we shall be gone.' Then we both knelt down, and prayed God to give her into our hands : we put on our helms, and went down into the courtyard. THE HOLLOW LAND 129 It was the first time I expected to use a sharp sword in anger, and I was full of joy as the muffled thunder of our horse-hoofs rolled through the bitter winter night. In about an hour and a half we had crossed the frontier, and in half an hour more the greater part had halted in a wood near the Abbey, while I and a few others went up to the Abbey gates, and knocked loudly four times with my sword-hilt, stamping on the ground meantime. A long, low whistle answered me from within, which I in my turn answered : then the wicket opened, and a monk came out, holding a lantern. He seemed yet in the prime of life, and was a tall, powerful man. He held the lantern to my face, then smiled, and said, ' The banners hang low.' I gave the countersign, ' The crest is lopped off.' ' Good my son,' said he ; ' the ladders are within here. I dare not trust any of the brethren to carry them for you, though they love not the witch either, but are timorsome.' ' No matter,' I said, ' I have men here. So they entered and began to shoulder the tall ladders : the prior was very busy. ' You will find them just the right length, my son, trust me for that.' He seemed quite a jolly pleasant man, I could not understand his nursing furious revenge ; but his face darkened strangely whenever he happened to mention her name. As we were starting he came and stood outside the gate, and putting his lantern down that the light of it might not confuse his sight, looked earnestly into the night, then said : ' The wind has fallen, the snow flakes get thinner and smaller every moment, in an hour it will be freezing hard, and will be quite clear ; everything depends upon the surprise being complete ; stop a few minutes yet, my son.' He went away chuckling, and returned presently with two more sturdy monks carrying something : they threw their burdens down before my feet, they consisted of all the white albs in the abbey : ' There, trust an old man, who has seen more than one stricken fight in his carnal daj^s ; let the men who scale the walls put these over their arms, and they will not be seen in the least. God make your sword sharp, my son.' MORRIS K 130 PROSE ROMANCES So we departed, and when I met Arnald again, he said, that what the prior had done was well thought of ; so we agreed that I should take thirty men, an old squire of our house, well skilled in war, along with them, scale the walls as quietly as possible, and open the gates to the rest. I set off accordingly, after that with low laughing we had put the albs all over us, wrapping the ladders also in Avhite. Then we crept very warily and slowly up the wall ; the moat was frozen over, and on the ice the snow lay quite thick ; we all thought that the guards must be careless enough, when they did riot even take the trouble to break the ice in the moat. So we listened — there was no sound at all, the Christmas midnight mass had long ago been over, it was nearly three o'clock, and the moon began to clear, there was scarce any snow falling now, only a flake or two from some low hurrying cloud or other : the wind sighed gently about the round towers there, but it was bitter cold, for it had begun to freeze again : we listened for some minutes, about a quarter of an hour I think, then at a sign from me, they raised the ladders carefully, muffled as they were at the top with swathings of wool. I mounted first, old Squire Hugh followed last ; noiselessly we ascended, and soon stood all together on the walls ; then we carefully lowered the ladders again with long ropes ; we got our swords and axes from out of the folds of our priests' raiments, and set forward, till we reached the first tower along the wall ; the door was open, in the chamber at the top there was a fire slowly smouldering, nothing else ; we passed through it, and began to go down the spiral staircase, I first, with my axe shortened in my hand. — ' What if we were surprised there,' I thought, and I longed to be out in the air again ; — ' What if the door were fast at the bottom.' As we passed the second chamber, we heard some one within snoring loudly : I looked in quietly, and saw a big man with long black hair, that fell off his pillow and swept the ground, lying snoring, with his nose turned up and his mouth open, but he seemed so sound THE HOLLOW LAND 131 asleep that we did not stop to slay him. — Praise be ! — the door was open, without even a whispered word, without a pause, we went on along the streets, on the side that the drift had been on, because our garments were white, for the wind being very strong all that day, the houses on that side had caught in their cornices and carvings, and on the rough stone and wood of them, so much snow, that except here and there where the black walls grinned out, they were quite white ; no man saw us as we stole along, noiselessly because of the snow, till we stood within 100 yards of the gates and their house of guard. And we stood because we heard the voice of some one singing : ' Queen Mary's crown was gold, King Joseph's crown was red. But Jesus' crown was diamond That lit up all the bed MaricB Virginia.'' So they had some guards after all ; this was clearly the sentinel that sung to keep the ghosts oflf. — Now for a fight. — We drew nearer, a few yards nearer, then stopped to free ourselves from our monks' clothes. ' Ships sail through the Heaven With red banners dress'd. Carrying the planets seven To see the white breast Marice Virginis.^ Thereat he must have seen the waving of some alb or other as it shivered down to the ground, for his spear fell with a thud, and he seemed to be standing open-mouthed, thinkhig something about ghosts ; then, plucking up heart of grace, he roared out like ten bull-calv^es, and dashed into the guard-house. We followed smartly, but without hurry, and came up to the door of it just as some dozen half -armed men came tumbling out under our axes : thereupon, Avhile our men slew them, I blew a great blast upon viy horn, and Hugh with some others drew bolt and bar and swung the gates wide open. Then the men in the guard-house understood they K 2 132 PROSE ROMANCES were taken in a trap, and began to stir with great con- fusion ; so lest they should get quite waked and armed, I left Hugh at the gates with ten men, and myself led the rest into that house. There while we slew all those that yielded not, came Arnald with the others, bringing our horses with them : then all the enemy threw their arms down. And we counted our prisoners and found them over fourscore ; therefore, not knowing what to do with them (for they were too many to guard, and it seemed unknightly to slay them all), we sent up some bowmen to the walls, and turning our prisoners out of gates, bid them run for their lives, which they did fast enough, not knowing our numbers, and our men sent a few flights of arrows among them that they might not be undeceived. Then the one or two prisoners that we had left, told us, when we had crossed our axes over their heads, that the people of the good town would not willingly fight us, in that they hated the Queen ; that she was guarded at the palace by some fifty knights, and that beside, there were no others to oppose us in the town : so we set out for the palace, spear in hand. We had not gone far, before we heard some knights coming, and soon, in a turn of the long street, we saw them riding towards us ; when they caught sight of us they seemed astonished, drew rein, and stood in some confusion. We did not slacken our pace for an instant, but rode right at them with a yell, to which I Jent myself with all my heart. After all they did not run away, but waited for us with their spears held out ; I missed the man I had marked, or hit him rather just on the top of the helm ; he bent back, and the spear slipped over his head, but my horse still kept ouj and I felt presently such a crash that I reeled in my saddle, and felt mad. He had lashed out at me with his sword as I came on, hitting me in the ribs (for my arm was raised), but only flatlings. I was quite wild with rage, I turned, almost fell upon him, caught him by the neck with both hands, and threw THE HOLLOW LAND 133 him under the horse-hoofs, sighing with fury : I heard Arnald's voice close to me, ' Well fought, Florian : ' and I saw his great stem face bare among the iron, for he had made a vow in remembrance of that blow always to fight unhelmed ; I saw his great sword swinging, in wide gyres, and hissing as it started up, just as if it were alive and liked it. So joy filled all my soul, and I fought with my heart, till the big axe I swung felt like nothing but a little hammer in my hand, except for its bitterness : and as for the enemy, they went down like grass, so that we destroyed them utterly, for those knights would neither yield nor fly, but died as they stood, so that some fifteen of our men also died there. Then at last we came to the palace, where some grooms and such like kept the gates armed, but some ran, and some we took prisoners, one of whom died for sheer terror in our hands, being stricken by no wound : for he thought we would eat him. These prisoners we questioned concerning the queen, and so entered the great hall. There Arnald sat dowm in the throne on the dais, and laid his naked sword before him on the table : and on each side of him sat such knights as there was room for, and the others stood round about, while I took ten men, and went to look for Swanhilda. I found her soon, sitting by herself in a gorgeous chamber. I almost pitied her when I saw her looking so utterly desolate and despairing ; her beauty too had faded, deep lines cut through her face. But when I entered she knew who I was, and her look of intense hatred was so fiend-like, that it changed my pity into horror of her. ' Knight,' she said, ' who are you, and what do you want, thus discourteously entering my chamber ? ' ' I am Florian de Liliis, and I am to conduct you to judgement.' She sprung up, ' Curse you and your whole house, — you I hate worse than any, — girl's face, — guards ! guards ! ' and she stamped on the ground, her veins 134 PROSE ROMANCES on the forehead swelled, her eyes grew round and flamed out, as she kept crying for her guards, stamping the while, for she seemed quite mad. Then at last she remembered that she was in the power of her enemies, she sat down, and lay with her face between her hands, and wept passionately. ' Witch,' — I said between my closed teeth, ' will you come, or must we carry you down to the great hall ? * Neither would she come, but sat there, clutching at her dress and tearing her hair. Then I said, ' Bind her, and carry her down.' And they did so. I watched Arnald as we came in, there was no triumph on his stern white face, but resolution enough, he had made up his mind. They placed her on a seat in the midst of the hall over against the dais. He said, ' Unbind her, Florian.' They did so, she raised her face, and glared defiance at us all, as though she would die queenly after all. Then rose up Arnald and said, ' Queen Swanhilda, we judge you guilty of death, and because you are a queen and of a noble house, you shall be slain by my knightly sword, and I will even take the reproach of slaying a woman, for no other hand than mine shall deal the blow.' Then she said, ' O false knight, show your warrant from God, man, or devil.' ' This warrant from God, Swanhilda,' he said, holding up his sword, ' listen ! — fifteen years ago, when I was just winning my spurs, you struck me, disgracing me before all the people ; you cursed me, and meant that curse well enough. Men of the house of the Lilies, what sentence for that ? ' ' Death ! ' they said. ' Listen ! — afterwards you slew my cousin, your husband, treacherously, in the most cursed way, stabbing him in the throat, as the stars in the canopy above him looked down on the shut eyes of him. Men of the house of the Lily, what sentence for that ? ' ' Death ! ' they said. THE HOLLOW LAND 135 *Do you hear them, Queen ? there is warrant from man ; for the devil, I do not reverence him enough to take warrant from him, but, as I look at that face of yours, I think that even he has left you.' And indeed just then all her pride seemed to leave her, she fell from the chair, and wallowed on the ground moaning, she wept like a child, so that the tears lay on the oak floor ; she prayed for another month of life ; she came to me and kneeled, and kissed my feet, and prayed piteously, so that water ran out of her mouth. But I shuddered, and drew away ; it was like having an adder about one ; I could have pitied her had she died bravely, but for one like her to whine and whine ! — pah ! — Then from the dais rang Arnald's voice terrible, much changed. ' Let there be an end of all this.' And he took his sword and strode through the hall towards her ; she rose from the ground and stood up, stooping a little, her head sunk between her shoulders, her black eyes turned up and gleaming, like a tigress about to spring. When he came within some six paces of her something in his eye daunted her, or perhaps the flashing of his terrible sword in the torch-light ; she threw her arms up with a great shriek, and dashed screaming about the hall. Arnald's lip never once curled with any scorn, no line in his face changed : he said, ' Bring her here and bind her.' But when one came up to her to lay hold on her she first of all ran at him, hitting him with her head in the belly. Then while he stood doubled up for want of breath, and staring with his head up, she caught his sword from the girdle, and cut him across the shoulders, and many others she wounded sorely before they took her. Then Arnald stood by the chair to which she was bound, and poised his sword, and there was a great silence. Then he said, ' Men of the House of the Lilies, do you justify me in this, shall she die ? ' Straightway rang a great shout through the hall, but before it died away the sword had swept round, and therewithal was there 136 PROSE ROMANCES no such thing as Swanhilda left upon the earth, for in no battle-field had Arnald struck truer blow. Then he turned to the few servants of the palace and said, ' Go now, bury this accursed woman, for she is a king's daughter.' Then to us all, ' Now knights, to horse and away, that we may reach the good town by about dawn.' So we mounted and rode off. What a strange Christmas-day that was, for there, about nine o'clock in the morning, rode Red Harald into the good town to demand vengeance ; he went at once to the king, and the king promised that before nightfall that very day the matter should be judged ; albeit the king feared somewhat, because every third man you met in the streets had a blue cross on his shoulder, and some likeness of a lily, cut out or painted, stuck in his h^t ; and this blue cross and lily were the bearings of our house, called ' De Liliis.' Now we had seen Red Harald pass through the streets, with a white banner borne before him, to show that he came peaceably as for this time ; but I trow he was thinking of other things than peace. And he was called Red Harald first at this time, because over all his arms he wore a great scarlet cloth, that fell in heavy folds about his horse and all about him. Then, as he passed our house, some one pointed it out to him, rising there with its carving and its barred marble, but stronger than many a castle on the hill-tops, and its great overhanging battlement cast a mighty shadow down the wall and across the street ; and above all rose the great tower, our banner floating proudly from the top, whereon was emblazoned on a white ground a blue cross, and on a blue ground four white lilies. And now faces were gazing from all the windows, and all the battlements were thronged ; so Harald turned, and rising in his stirrups, shook his clenched fist at our house ; natheless, as he did so, the east wind, coming down the street, caught up the corner of that scarlet cloth and drove it over his face, and therewithal disordering his long black hair, well nigh choked him, so that he bit both his hair and that cloth. THE HOLLOW LAND 137 So from base to cope rose a mighty shout of triumph and defiance, and he passed on. Then Arnald caused it to be cried, that all those who loved the good House of the Lilies should go to mass that morning in Saint Mary's Church, hard by our house. Now this church belonged to us, and the abbey that served it, and always we appointed the abbot of it on condition that our trumpets should sound all together when on high masses they sing the ' Gloria in Excelsis.' It was the largest and most beautiful of all the churches in the town, and had two exceeding high towers, which you could see from far off, even when you saw not the town or any of its other towers : and in one of these towers were twelve great bells, named after the twelve Apostles, one name being written on each one of them ; as Peter, Matthew, and so on ; and in the other tower was one great bell only, much larger than any of the others, and which was called Mary. Now this bell was never rung but when our house was in great danger, and it had this legend on it, ' When Mary rings the earth shakes ; ' and indeed from this we took our war cry, which was, ' Mary rings ; ' somewhat justifiably indeed, for the last time that Mary rung, on that day before nightfall there were four thousand bodies to be buried, which bodies wore neither cross nor lily. So Arnald gave me in charge to tell the abbot to cause Mary to be tolled for an hoiir before mass that da}'. The abbot leaned on my shoulder as I stood within the tower and looked at the twelve monks laying their hands to the ropes. Far up in the dimness I saw the wheel before it began to swing round about ; then it moved a little ; the twelve men bent down to the earth and a roar rose that shook the tower from base to spire- vane : backwards and forwards swept the wheel, as Mary now looked dowTiwards towards earth, now looked up at the shadowy cone of the spire, shot across bj^ bars of light from the dormers. And the thunder of Mary was caught up by the wind and carried through all the country ; and when the good man heard it, he said goodbye to wife and child, slung 138 PROSE ROMANCES his shield behind his back, and set forward with his spear sloped over his shoulder, and many a time, as he walked toward the good town, he tightened the belt that went about his waist, that he might stride the faster, so long and furiously did Mary toll. And before the great bell, Mary, had ceased ringing, all the ways were full of armed men. But at each door of the church of Saint Mary stood a row of men armed with axes, and when any came, meaning to go into the church, the two first of these would hold their axes (whose helves were about four feet long) over his head, and would ask him, ' Who went over the moon last night 1 ' then if he answered nothing or at random they would bid him turn back, which he for the more part would be ready enough to do ; but some, striving to get through that row of men, were slain outright ; but if he were one of those that were friends to the House of the Lilies he would answer to that question, ' Mary and John.' By the time the mass began the whole church was full, and in the nave and transept thereof were three thousand men, all of our house and all armed. But Arnald and myself, and Squire Hugh, and some others sat under a gold -fringed canopy near the choir ; and the abbot said mass, having his mitre on his head. Yet, as I watched him, it seemed to me that he must have something on beneath his priest's vestments, for he looked much fatter than usual, being really a tall lithe man. Now; as they sung the ' Kyrie,' some one shouted from the other end of the church, ' My lord Arnald, they are slaying our people without ; ' for, indeed, all the square about the church was full of our people, who for the press had not been able to enter, and were standing there in no small dread of what might come to pass. Then the abbot turned round from the altar, and began to fidget with the fastenings of his rich robes. And they made a lane for us up to the west door then I put on my helm and we began to go up the nave, then suddenly the singing of the monks and all stopped. THE HOLLOW LAND 139 I heard a clinking and a buzz of voices in the choir ; I turned, and saw that the bright noon sun was shining on the gold of the priest's vestments, as they lay on the floor, and on the mail that the priests carried. So we stopped, the choir gates swung open, and the abbot marched out at the head of his men, all fully armed, and began to strike up the psalm ' Exsurgat Beus.' When we got to the west door, there was indeed a tumult, but as yet no slaying ; the square was all a-flicker with steel, and we beheld a great body of knights, at the head of them Red Harald and the king, standing over against us ; but our people, pressed against the houses, and into the corners of the square, were, some striving to enter the doors, some beside themselves with rage, shouting out to the others to charge ; withal, some were pale and some were red with the blood that had gathered to the wrathful faces of them. Then said Arnald to those about him, ' Lift me up.' So they laid a great shield on two lances, and these four men carried, and thereon stood Arnald and gazed about him. Now the king was unhelmed, and his white hair (for he was an old man) flowed down behind him on to his saddle ; but Arnald's hair was cut short, and was red. And all the bells rang. Then the king said, ' Arnald of the Lilies, will you settle this quarrel by the judgement of God ? ' And Arnald thrust up his chin, and said, ' Yea.' ' How then,' said the king, ' and where ? ' ' Will it please you try now ? ' said Arnald. Then the king understood what he meant, and took in his hand from behind tresses of his long white hair, twisting them round his hand in his wrath, but yet said no word, till I suppose his hair put him in mind of something, and he raised it in both his hands above his head, and shouted out aloud, ' knights, hearken to this traitor.' Whereat, indeed, the lances began to move ominously. But Arnald spoke. ' O you king and lords, what have we to do with you ? 140 PROSE ROMANCES were we not free in the old time, up among the hills there ? Wherefore give way, and we will go to the hills again ; and if any man try to stop us, his blood be on his own head ; wherefore now,' (and he turned) ' all you House of the Lily, both soldiers and monks, let us go forth together fearing nothing, for I think there is not bone enough or muscle enough in these fellows here that have a king that they should stop us withal, but only skin and fat.' And truly, no man dared to stop us, and we went. CHAPTER II Failing in the World Now at that time we drove cattle in Red Harald's land. And we took no hoof but from the Lords and rich men, but of these we had a mighty drove, both oxen and sheep, and horses, and besides, even hawks and hounds, and a huntsman or two to take care of them. And, about noon, we drew away from the corn-lands that lay beyond the pastures, and mingled with them, and reached a wide moor, which was called ' Goliah's Land.' I scarce know why, except that it belonged neither to Red Harald or us, but was debatable. And the cattle began to go slowly, and our horses were tired, and the sun struck down very hot upon us, for there was no shadow, and the day was cloudless. All about the edge of the moor, except on the side from which we had come was a rim of hills, not very high, but very rocky and steep, otherwise the moor itself was flat ; and through these hills was one pass, guarded bj^ our men, which pass led to the Hill castle of the Lilies. It was not wonderful, that of this moor many wild stories were told, being such a strange lonely place, some of them one knew, alas ! to be over true. In the old time, before we went to the good town, this moor had THE HOLLOW LAND 141 been the mustering place of our people, and our house had done deeds enough of blood and horror to turn our white lilies red, and our blue cross to a fiery one. But some of those wild tales I never believed ; they had to do mostly with men losing their way without any apparent cause, (for there were plenty of landmarks,) finding some well-known spot, and then, just beyond it, a place they had never even dreamed of. ' Florian ! Florian ! ' said Arnald, ' For God's sake stop ! as every one else is stopping to look at the hills yonder ; I always thought there was a curse upon us. What does God mean by shutting us up here ? Look at the cattle ; Christ, they have found it out too ! See, some of them are turning to run back again towards Harald's land. Oh ! unhappy, unhappy, from that day forward ! ' He leaned forward, rested his head on his horse's neck, and wept like a child. I felt so irritated with him, that I could almost have slain him then and there. Was he mad,? had these wild doings of ours turned his strong wise head ? ' Are you my brother Arnald, that I used to think such a grand man when I was a boy ? ' I said, ' or are you changed too, like everybody, and everything else ? What do you mean ? ' ' Look ! look ! ' he said, grinding his teeth in agony. I raised my eyes : where was the one pass between the rim of stern rocks ? Nothing : the enemy behind us — that grim wall in front : what wonder that each man looked in his fellow's face for help, and found it not. Yet I refused to believe that there was any truth either in the wild stories that I had heard when I was a boy, or in this story told me so clearly by my eyes now. I called out cheerily, ' Hugh, come here ! ' He came. ' What do you think of this ? Some mere dodge on Harald's part ? Are we cut off ? ' ' Think ! Sir Florian ? God forgive me for ever thinking at all ; I have given up that long and long ago, because thirty years ago I thought this, that the House of Lihes would deserve anything in the way of bad fortune 142 PROSE ROMANCES that God would send them : so I gave up thinking, and took to fighting. But if you think that Harald had anything to do with this, why — why — in God's name, I wish / could think so ! ' I felt a dull weight on my heart. Had our house been the devil's servants all along ? I thought we were God's servants. The day was very still, but what little Avind there was, was at our backs. I watched Hugh's face, not being able to answer him. He was the cleverest man at war that I have known, either before or since that day : sharper than any hound in ear and scent, clearer sighted than any eagle ; he was listening now intently. I saw a slight smile cross his face ; heard him mutter, ' Yes ! I think so : verily that is better, a great deal better.' Then he stood up in his stirrups, and shouted, ' Hurrah for the Lilies ! Mary rings ! ' ' Mary rings ! ' I shouted, though I did not know the reason for his exultation : my brother lifted his head, and smiled too, griml}^ Then as I listened I heard clearly the sound of a trumpet, an enemy's trumpet too. ' After all, it was only mist, or some such thing,* I said, for the pass between the hills was clear enough now. ' Hurrah ! only mist,' said Arnald, quite elated ; ' Mary rings ! ' and we all began to think of fighting : for after all what joy is equal to that ? There were five hundred of us ; two hundred spears, the rest archers ; and both archers and men at arms were picked men. ' How many of them are we to expect ? ' said I. ' Not under a thousand, certainly, probably more, Sir Florian.' (My brother Arnald, by the way, had knighted me before we left the good town, and Hugh liked to give me the handle to my name. How was it, by the way, that no one had ever made him a knight ?) ' Let every one look to his arms and horse, and come away from these silly cows' sons ! ' shouted Arnald. Hugh said, ' They will be here in an hour, fair Sir.' So we got clear of the cattle, and dismounted, and both THE HOLLOW LAND 143 ourselves took food and drink, and our horses ; after- wards we tightened our saddle-girths, shook our great pots of helmets on, except Arnald, whose rusty-red hair had been his only head-piece in battle for years and years, and stood with our spears close by our horses, leaving room for the archers to retreat between our ranks ; and they got their arrows ready, and planted their stakes before a little peat moss : and there we waited, and saw their pennons at last floating high above the corn of the fertile land, then heard their many horse-hoofs ring upon the hard-parched moor, and the archers began to shoot. It had been a strange battle ; Ave had never fought better, and yet withal it had ended in a retreat ; indeed all along every man but Arnald and myself, even Hugh, had been trying at least to get the enemy between him and the way toward the pass ; and now we were all drifting that way, the enemy trying to cut us off, but never able to stop us, because he could only throw small bodies of men in our way, whom we scattered and put to flight in their turn. I never cared less for mj' life than then ; indeed, in spite of all my boasting and hardness of belief, I should have been happy to have died, such a strange weight of apprehension was on me ; and yet I got no scratch even. I had soon put off my great helm, and was fighting in my mail-coif only : and here I swear that three knights together charged me, aiming at my bare face, yet never touched me ; for, as for one, I put his lance aside with ray sword, and the other two in some most wonderful manner got their spears locked in each other's armour, and so had to submit to be knocked off their horses. And we still neared the pass, and began to see distinctly the ferns that grew on the rocks, and the fair country between the rift in them, spreading out there, blue- shadowed. Whereupon came a great rush of men of both sides, striking side blows at each other, spitting, cursing, and shrieking, as they tore away like a herd of wild hogs. So, being careless of life, as I said; I drew rein, and 144 PROSE ROMANCES turning my horse, waited quietly for them ; and I knotted the reins, and laid them on the horse's neck, and stroked him, that he whinnied ; then got both my hands to my sword. Then, as they came on, I noted hurriedly that the first man was one of Arnald's men, and one of our men behind him leaned forward to prod him with his spear, but could not reach so far, till he himself was run through the eye with a spear, and throwing his arms up fell dead with a shriek. Also I noted concerning this first man that the laces of his helmet were loose, and when he saw me he lifted his left hand to his head, took off his helm and cast it at me, and still tore on ; the helmet flew over my head, and I sitting still there, swung out, hitting him on the neck ; his head flew right off, for the mail no more held than a piece of silk. ' Mary rings,' and my horse whinnied again, and we both of us went at it, and fairly stopped that rout, so that there was a knot of quite close and desperate fighting, wherein we had the best of that fight and slew most of them, albeit my horse was slain and my mail-coif cut through. Then I bade a squire fetch me another horse, and began meanwhile to upbraid those knights for running in such a strange disorderly race, instead of standing and fighting cleverly. Moreover we had drifted even in this successful fight still nearer to the pass, so that the conies who dwelt there were beginning to consider whether they should not run into their holes. But one of those knights said : ' Be not angry with me, Sir Florian, but do you think you will go to Heaven ? ' ' The saints ! I hope so,' I said, but one who stood near him whispered to him to hold his peace, so I cried out : ' O friend ! I hold this world and all therein so cheap now, that I see not anything in it but shame which can any longer anger me ; wherefore speak out.' ' Then, Sir Florian, men say that at your christening some fiend took on him the likeness of a priest and strove to baptize you in the Devil's name, but God had I THE HOLLOW LAND 145 mercy on you so that the fiend could not choose but baptize you in the name of the most holy Trinity : and yet men say that you hardly believe any doctrine such as other men do, and will at the end only go to Heaven round about as it were, not at all by the intercession of our Lady ; they say too that you can see no ghosts or other wonders, whatever happens to other Christian men.' I smiled. — ' Well, friend, I scarcely call this a disadvan- tage, moreover what has it to do with the matter in hand ? ' How was this in Heaven's name ? we had been quite still, resting, while this talk was going on, but we could hear the hawks chattering from the rocks, we were so close now. And my heart sunk within me, there was no reason why this should not be true ; there was no reason why any- thing should not be true. ' This, Sir Florian,' said the knight again, ' how would you feel inclined to fight if you thought that everything about you was mere glamour ; this earth here the rocks, the sun, the sky ? I do not know where I am for certain, I do not know that it is not midnight instead of undern : I do not know if I have been fighting men or only simulacra — but I think, we all think, that we have been led into some devil's trap or other, and — and — may God forgive me my sins ! — I wish I had never been born.' There now ! he was weeping — they all wept — how strange it was to see those rough, bearded men blubbering there, and snivelling till the tears ran over their armour and mingled with the blood, so that it dropped down to the earth in a dim, dull, red rain. My eyes indeed were dry, but then so was my heart ; I felt far worse than weeping came to, but nevertheless I spoke cheerily. ' Dear friends, where are your old men's hearts gone to now ? See now ! this is a punishment for our sins, is it ? well, for our forefathers' sins or our own ? if the first, brothers, be very sure that if we bear it manfully God will have something very good in store for us hereafter ; but if for our sins, is it not certain that He cares for us yet, for note that He suffers the wicked to MORRIS T. 146 PROSE ROMANCES go their own ways pretty much ; moreover brave men, brothers, ought to be the masters of simulacra — come, is it so hard to die once for all ? ' Still no answer came from them, they sighed heavily only. I heard the sound of more than one or two swords as they rattled back to their scabbards : nay, one knight, stripping himself of surcoat and hauberk, and drawing his dagger, looked at me with a grim smile, and said, ' Sir Florian, do so ! ' then he drew the dagger across his throat and he fell back dead. They shuddered, those brave men, and crossed them- selves. And I had no heart to say a word more, but mounted the horse which had been brought to me and rode away slowly for a few yards ; then I became aware that there was a great silence over the whole field. So I lifted my eyes and looked, and behold no man struck at another. Then from out of a band of horsemen came Harald, and he was covered all over with a great scarlet cloth as before, put on over the head, and flowing all about his horse, but rent with the fight. He put off his helm and drew back his mail-coif, then took a trumpet from the hand of a herald and blew strongly. And in the midst of his blast I heard a voice call out : ' O Florian ! come and speak to me for the last time ! ' So when I turned I beheld Arnald standing by himself, but near him stood Hugh and ten others with dra-wTi swords. Then I wept, and so went to him, weeping ; and he said, ' Thou seest, brother, that we must die, and I think by some horrible and unheard-of death, and the House of the Lilies is just dying too ; and now I repent me of Swanhilda's death ; now I know that it was a poor cowardly piece of revenge, instead of a brave act of justice ; thus has God shown us the right. ' O Florian ! curse me ! So will it be straighter ; truly thy mother when she bore thee did not think of this ; rather saw thee in the tourney at this time, in her fond hopes, glittering with gold and doing knightly ; or else mingling thy brown locks with the golden hair of some THE HOLLOW LAND 147 maiden weeping for the love of thee. God forgive me ! God forgive me ! ' ' What harm, brother ? ' I said, ' this is only failing in the world ; what if we had not failed, in a little while it would have made no difference ; truly just now I felt very miserable, but now it has passed away, and I am happy.' ' O brave heart ! ' he said, ' yet we shall part just now, Florian, farewell.' ' The road is long,' I said, ' farewell.' Then we kissed each other, and Hugh and the others wept. Now all this time the trumpets had been ringing, ringing, great doleful peals, then they ceased, and above all sounded Red Harald's voice. (So I looked round towards that pass, and when I looked I no longer doubted any of those wild tales of glamour concerning Goliah's Land ; for though the rocks were the same, and though the conies still stood gazing at the doors of their dwellings, though the hawks still cried out shrilly, though the fern still shook in the wind, yet beyond, oh such a land ! not to be described by any because of its great beauty, lying, a great hollow' land, the rocks going down on this side in precipices, then reaches and reaches of loveliest country, trees and flowers, and corn, then the hills, green and blue, and purple, till their ledges reached the white snowy moun- tains at last. Then with all manner of strange feelings, ' my heart in the midst of my body was even like melting wax.') ' O you House of the Lily ! you are conquered — j^et I will take vengeance only on a few, therefore let all those who wish to live come and pile their swords, and shields, and helms behind me in three great heaps, and swear fealty afterwards to me ; yes, all but the false knights Arnald and Florian.' We were holding each other's hands and gazing, and we saw all our knights, yea, all but Squire Hugh and his ten heroes, pass over the field singly, or in groups of three or four, with their heads hanging down in shame, L 2 148 PROSE ROMANCES and they cast down their notched swords and dinted, h'Hed shields, and brave-crested hehns into three great heaps, behind Red Harald, then stood behind, no man speaking to his fellow, or touching him. Then dolefully the great trumpets sang over the dying House of the Lily, and Red Harald led his men forward, but slowly : on they came, spear and mail glittering in the sunlight ; and I turned and looked at that good land, and a shuddering delight seized my soul. But I felt my brother's hand leave mine, and saw him turn his horse's head and ride swiftly toward the pass ; that was a strange pass now. And at the edge he stopped, turned round and called out aloud, ' I pray thee, Harald, forgive me ! now farewell all ! ' Then the horse gave one bound forward, and we heard the poor creature's scream when he felt that he must die, and we heard afterwards (for we were near enough for that even) a clang and a crash. So I turned me about to Hugh, and he understood me though I could not speak. We shouted all together, ' Mary rings,' then laid our bridles on the necks of our horses, spurred forward, and — in five minutes they were all slain, and I was down among the horse -hoofs. Not slain though, not wounded. Red Harald smiled grimly when he saw me rise and lash out again ; he and some ten others dismounted, and holding their long spears out, I went back — back, back, — I saw what it meant, and sheathed my sword, and their laughter rolled all about, and I too smiled. Presently they all stopped, and I felt the last foot of turf giving under my feet ; I looked down and saw the crack there widening ; then in a moment I fell, and a cloud of dust and earth rolled after me ; then again their mirth rose into thunder-peals of laughter. But through it all I heard Red Harald shout, ' Silence ! evil dogs ! ' For as I fell I stretched out my arms, and caught a tuft of yellow broom some three feet from the brow, THE HOLLOW LAND 149 and hung there by the hands, my feet being loose in the air. Then Red Harald came and stood on the precipice above me, his great axe over his shoulder ; and he looked down on me not ferociously, almost kindly, while the wind from the Hollow Land blew about his red raiment, tattered and dusty now. And I felt happy, though it pained me to hold straining by the broom, yet I said, ' I will hold out to the last.' It "was not long, the plant itself gave way and I fell, and as I fell I fainted. CHAPTER III Leaving the World. — Fytte the First I HAD thought when I fell that I should never wake again ; but I woke at last : for a long time I was quite dizzied and could see nothing at all : horrible doubts came creeping over me ; I half expected to see presently great half -formed shapes come rolling up to me to crush me ; some thing fiery, not strange, too utterly horrible to be strange, but utterly vile and ugly, the sight of which would have killed me when I was upon the earth, come rolling up to torment me. In fact I doubted if I were in hell. I knew I deserved to be, but I prayed, and then it came mto my mind that I could not pray if I were in hell. Also there seemed to be a cool green light all about me, which was sweet. Then presently I heard a glorious voice ring out clear, close to me — ' Christ keep the Hollow Land Through the sweet spring-tide. When the apple-blossoms bless The lowly bent hill side.' Thereat my eyes were slowly unsealed, and I saw the blessedest sight I have ever seen before or since : for I saw my Love. 150 PROSE ROMANCES She sat about five yards from me on a great grey stone that had much moss on it, one of the many scattered along the side of the stream by which I lay ; she was clad in loose white raiment close to her hands and throat ; her feet were bare, her hair hung loose a long way down, but some of it lay on her knees : I said ' white ' raiment, but long spikes of light scarlet went down from the throat, lost here and there in the shadows of the folds, and growing smaller and smaller, died before they reached her feet. I was lying with my head resting on soft moss that some one had gathered and placed under me. She, when she saw me moving and awake, came and stood over me with a gracious smile. — She was so lovely and tender to look at, and so kind, yet withal no one, man or woman, had ever frightened me half so much. She was not fair in white and red, like many beautiful women are, being rather pale, but like ivory for smooth- ness, and her hair was quite golden, not light yellow, but dusky golden. I tried to get up on my feet, but was too weak, and sunk back again. She said : ' No, not just yet, do not trouble yourself or try to remember anything just at present.' There withal she kneeled down, and hung over me closer. ' To-morrow you may, perhaps, have something hard to do or bear, I know, but now you must be as happy as you can be, quietly happy. Why did you start and turn pale when I came to you ? Do you not know who I am ? Nay, but you do, I see ; and I have been waiting here so long for you ; so you must have expected to see me. — You cannot be frightened of me, are you ? ' But I could not answer a word, but all the time strange knowledge, strange feelings were filling my brain and my heart, she said : ' You are tired ; rest, and dream happily.' So she sat by me, and sung to lull me to sleep, while I turned on my elbow, and watched the waving of her throat : and the singing of all the poets I had ever THE HOLLOW LAND 151 heard, and of many others too, not born till j^ears long after I was dead, floated all about me as she sung, and I did indeed dream happily. When I awoke it was the time of the cold dawn, and the colours were gathering themselves together, whereat in fatherly approving fashion the sun sent all across the east long bars of scarlet and orange that after faded through yellow to green and blue. And she sat by me still ; I think she had been sitting there and singing all the time ; all through hot yesterday, for I had been sleeping day-long and night-long, all through the falling evening under moonlight and star- light the night through. And now it was dawn, and I think too that neither of us had moved at all ; for the last thing I remembered before I went to sleep was the tips of her fingers brushing my cheek, as she knelt over me with down-drooping arm, and still now I felt them there. Moreover she was just finishing some fainting measure that died before it had time to get painful in its passion. Dear Lord ! how I loved her ! yet did I not dare to touch her, or even speak to her. She smiled with delight when she saw I was awake again, and slid down her hand on to mine, but some shuddering dread made me draw it away again hurriedly ; then I saw the smile leave her face : what would I not have given for courage to hold her body quite tight to mine ? but I was so weak. She said : ' Have you been very happy ? ' ' Yea,' I said. It was the first word I had spoken there, and my voice sounded strange. ' Ah ! ' she said, ' you will talk more when you get used to the air of the Hollow Land. Have you been thinking of your past life at all ? If not, try to think of it. What thing in Heaven or Earth do you wish for most ? ' Still I said no word ; but she said in a wearied way : ' Well now, I think you will be strong enough to get to your feet and walk ; take my hand and try.' 152 PROSE ROMANCES Therewith she held it out : I strove hard to be brave enough to take it, but could not ; I only turned away shuddering, sick, and grieved to the heart's core of me ; then struggling hard with hand and knee and elbow, I scarce rose, and stood up totteringly ; while she watched me sadly, still holding out her hand. But as I rose, in my swinging to and fro the steel sheath of my sword struck her on the hand so that the blood flowed from it, which she stood looking at for a while, then dropped it downwards, and turned to look at me, for I was going. Then as I walked she followed me, so I stopped and turned and said almost fiercely : ' I am going alone to look for my brother.' The vehemence with which I spoke, or something else, burst some blood-vessel within my throat, and we both stood there with the blood running from us on to the grass and summer flowers. She said : ' If you find him, wait with him till I come.' ' Yea,' and I turned and left her, following the course of the stream upwards, and as I went I heard her low singing that almost broke my heart for its sadness. And I went painfully because of my weakness, and because also of the great stones ; and sometimes I went along a spot of earth where the river had been used to flow in flood-time, and which was now bare of everything but stones ; and the sun, now risen high, poured down on everything a great flood of fierce light and scorching heat, and burnt me sorely, so that I almost fainted. But about noontide I entered a wood close by the stream, a beech-wood, intending to rest myself ; the herbage was thin and scattered there, sprouting up from amid the leaf -sheaths and nuts of the beeches, which had fallen year after year on that same spot ; the outside boughs swept low down, the air itself seemed green when you entered within the shadow of the branches, they over-roofed the place so with tender green, only here and there showing spots of blue. But what lay at the foot of a great beech tree but some dead knight in armour, only the helmet off ? THE HOLLOW LAND 153 A wolf was prowling round about it, who ran away snarling when he saw me coming. So I went up to that dead knight, and fell on my knees before him, laying my head on his breast, for it was Arnald. He was quite cold, but had not been dead for very long ; I would not believe him dead, but went down to the stream and brought him water, tried to make him drink — what would you ? he was as dead as Swanhilda : neither came there any answer to my cries that afternoon but the moaning of the wood -doves in the beeches. So then I sat down and took his head on my knees, and closed the eyes, and wept quietly while the sun sunk lower. But a little after sunset I heard a rustle through the leaves, that was not the wmd, and looking up my eyes met the pitying eyes of that maiden. Something stirred rebelliously within me ; I ceased weeping, and said : ' It is unjust, unfair : What right had Swanhilda to live ? did not God give her up to us ? How much better was he than ten Swanhildas ? and look you — See ! — he is DEAD.' Now this I shrieked out, being mad ; and though I trembled when I saw some stormy wrath that vexed her very heart and loving lips, gathering on her face, I yet sat there looking at her and screaming, screaming, till all the place rang. But when growing hoarse and breathless I ceased ; she said, with straightened brow and scornful mouth : ' So ! bravely done ! must I then, though I am a woman, call you a liar, for saying God is vuijust ? You to punish her, had not God then punished her already ? How many times when she woke in the dead night do you suppose she missed seeing King Urrayne's pale face and hacked head lying on the pillow by her side ? Whether by night or day, A^hat things but screams did she hear when the wind blew loud round about the Palace corners ? And did not that face too, often come before her, pale and bleeding as it was long ago, and 154 PROSE ROMANCES gaze at her from unhappy eyes ? poor eyes ! with changed purpose in them — no more hope of converting the world when that blow was once struck, truly it was very wicked — no more dreams, but only fierce struggles with the Devil for very life, no more dreams but failure at last, and death, happier so in the Hollow Land.' She grew so pitying as she gazed at his dead face that I began to weep again unreasonably, while she saw not that I was weeping, but looked only on Arnald's face, but after turned on me frowning. ' Unjust ! yes truly unjust enough to take away life and all hope from her ; you have done a base cowardly act, you and your brother here, disguise it as you may ; you deserve all God's judgements — you ' But I turned my eyes and wet face to her, and said : ' Do not curse me — there — do not look like Swanhilda : for see now, you said at first that you had been waiting long for me, give me your hand now, for I love you so.' Then she came and knelt by where I sat, and I caught her in my arms, and she prayed to be forgiven. ' O, Florian ! I have indeed waited long for you, and when I saw you my heart was filled with joy, but you would neither touch me nor speak to me, so that I became almost mad, — forgive me, we will be so happy now. ! do you know this is what I have been waiting for all these years ; it made me glad I know, when I was a little baby in my mother's arms to think I was born for this ; and afterwards, as I grew up, I used to watch every breath of wind through the beech-boughs, every turn of the silver poplar leaves, thinking it might be you or some news of you.' Then I rose and drew her up with me ; but she knelt again by my brother's side, and kissed him, and said : ' O brother ! the Hollow Land is only second best of the places God has made, for Heaven also is the work of His hand.' Afterwards we dug a deep grave among the beech-roots and there we buried Arnald de Liliis. And I have never seen him since, scarcely even in dreams ; surely God has had mercy on him, for he was THE HOLLOW LAND 155 very leal and true and brave ; he loved many men, and was kind and gentle to his friends, neither did he hate any but Swanhilda. But as for us two, Margaret and me, I cannot tell you concerning our happiness, such things cannot be told ; only this I know, that we abode continually in the Hollow Land until I lost it. Moreover this I can tell you. Margaret was walking with me, as she often walked near the place where I had first seen her ; presently we came upon a woman sitting, dressed in scarlet and gold raiment, with her head laid down on her knees ; likewise we heard her sobbing. ' Margaret, who is she ? ' I said : ' I knew not that any dwelt in the Hollow Land but us two only.' She said, ' I know not who she is, only sometimes, these many years, I have seen her scarlet robe flaming from far away, amid the quiet green grass : but I was never so near her as this. Florian, I am afraid : let us come away.' Fytte the Second Such a horrible grey November day it was, the fog- smell all about, the fog creeping into our very bones. And I sat there, trying to recollect, at any rate some- thing, under those fir-trees that I ought to have known so well. Just think now ; I had lost my best years somewhere ; for I was past the prime of life, my hair and beard were scattered with white, my body was growing weaker, my memory of all things was very faint. My raiment, purple and scarlet and blue once, was so stained that you could scarce call it any colour, was so tattered that it scarce covered my body, though it seemed once to have fallen in heavy folds to my feet, and still, when I rose to walk, though the miserable November mist lay in great drops upon my bare breast, yet was I obliged to wind my raiment over my arm, it draggled so (\vTetched, slimy, textureless thing !) in the brown mud. 156 PROSE ROMANCES On my head was a light morion, which pressed on my brow and pained me ; so I put my hand up to take it off ; but when I touched it I stood still in my walk shuddering ; I nearly fell to the earth with shame and sick horror ; for I laid my hand on a lump of slimy earth with worms coiled up in it. I could scarce forbear from shrieking, but breathing such a prayer as I could think of, I raised my hand again and seized it firmly. Worse horror still ! the rust had eaten it into holes, and I gripped my own hair as well as the rotting steel, the sharp edge of which cut into my fingers ; but setting my teeth, gave a great wrench, for I knew that if I let go of it then, no power on the earth or under it could make me touch it again. God be praised ! I tore it off and cast it far from me ; I saw the earth, and the worms and green weeds and sun-begotten slime, whirling out from it radiatingly, as it spun round about. I was girt with a sword too, the leathern belt of which had shrunk and squeezed my waist : dead leaves had gathered in knots about the buckles of it, the gilded handle was encrusted with clay in many parts, the velvet sheath miserably worn. But, verily, when I took hold of the hilt, and dreaded lest instead of a sword I should find a serpent in my hand ; lo ! then, I drew out my own true blade and shook it flawless from hilt to point, gleaming white in that mist. Therefore it sent a thrill of joy to my heart, to know that there was one friend left me yet : I sheathed it again carefully, and undoing it from my waist, hung it about my neck. Then catching up my rags in my arms, I drew them up till my legs and feet were altogether clear from them, afterwards folded my arms over my breast, gave a long leap and ran, looking downward, but not giving heed to my way. Once or twice I fell over stumps of trees, and such-like, for it was a cut-down wood that I was in, but I rose always, though bleeding and confused, and Avent on still ; sometimes tearing madly through briars and gorse bushes, THE HOLLOW LAND 157 so that my blood dropped on the dead leaves as I went. I ran in this way for about an hour ; then I heard a gurgling and splashing of waters ; I gave a great shout and leapt strongly, with shut eyes, and the black water closed over me. When I rose again, I saw near me a boat with a man in it ; but the shore was far off ; I struck out toward the boat, but my clothes which I had knotted and folded about me, weighed me down terribly. The man looked at me, and began to paddle toward me with the oar he held in his left hand, having in his right a long, slender spear, barbed like a fish-hook ; perhaps, I thought, it is some fishing spear ; moreover his raiment was of scarlet, with upright stripes of yellow and black all over it. When my eye caught his, a smile widened his mouth as if some one had made a joke ; but I was beginning to sink, and indeed my head was almost under water just as he came and stood above me, but before it went quite under, I saw his spear gleam, then felt it in my shoulder, and for the present, felt nothing else. When I woke I was on the bank of that river ; the flooded waters went hurrying past me ; no boat on them now ; from the river the ground went up in gentle slopes till it grew a great hill, and there, on that hill-top, — Yes, I might forget many things, almost everything, but not that, not the old castle of my fathers up among the hills, its towers blackened now and shattered, yet still no enemy's banner waved from it. So I said I would go and die there ; and at this thought I drew my sword, which yet hung about my neck, and shook it in the air till the true steel quivered ; then began to pace toward the castle. I was quite naked, no rag about me ; I took no heed of that, only thanking God that my sword was left, and so toiled up the hill. I entered the castle soon by the outer court ; I knew the way so well, that I did not lift my eyes from the ground, but walked on over the lowered drawbridge through the unguarded gates, and stood in the great hall at last — 158 PROSE ROMANCES my father's hall — as bare of everything but my sword as when I came into the world fifty years before : I had as little clothes, as little wealth, less memory and thought, I verily believe, than then. So i lifted up my ej^es and gazed ; no glass in the windows, no hangings on the walls ; the vaulting yet held good throughout, but seemed to be going ; the mortar had fallen out from between the stones, and grass and fern grew in the joints ; the marble pavement was in some places gone, and water stood about in puddles, though one scarce knew how it had got there. No hangings on the walls — ^no; yet, strange to say, instead of them, the walls blazed from end to end with scarlet paintings, only striped across with green damp- marks in many places, some falling bodily from the wall, the plaster hanging down with the fading colour on it. In all of them, except for the shadows and the faces of the figures, there was scarce any colour but scarlet and yellow ; here and there it seemed the painter, whoever it was, had tried to make his trees or his grass green, but it would not do ; some ghastly thoughts must have filled his head, for all the green went presently into yellow, out-sweeping through the picture dismally. But the faces were painted to the very life, or it seemed so ; — there were only five of them, however, that were very marked or came much in the foreground ; and four of these I knew well, though I did not then remember the names of those that had borne them. They were Red Harald, Swanhilda, Arnald, and myself. The fifth I did not know ; it was a woman's, and very beautiful. Then I saw that in some parts a small penthouse roof had been built over the paintings, to keep them from the weather. Near one of these stood a man painting, clothed in red, with stripes of yellow and black : then I knew that it was the same man who had saved me from drowning by spearing me through the shoulder ; so I went up to him, and saw furthermore that he was girt with a heavy sword. He turned round when he saw me coming, and asked me fiercely what I did there. THE HOLLOW LAND 159 I asked why he was painting in my castle. Thereupon, with that same grim smile widening his mouth as heretofore, he said, ' I paint God's judgements.' And as he spoke, he rattled the sword in his scabbard ; but I said, ' Well, then, you paint them very badly. Listen ; I know God's judgements much better than you do. See now ; I will teach you God's judgements, and you shall teach me painting.' While I spoke he still rattled his sword, and when I had done, shut his right eye tight, screwing his nose on one side ; then said : ' You have got no clothes on, and may go to the devil ! What do you know about God's judgements ? ' ' Well, they are not all yellow and red, at all events ; you ought to know better.' He screamed out, ' O you fool ! yellow and red ! Gold and blood, what do they make ? ' ' Well,' I said ; ' what ? ' ' HELL ! ' And, coming close up to me, he struck me with his open hand in the face, so that the colour with which his hand was smeared was dabbed about my face. The blow almost threw me down ; and, while I staggered, he rushed at me furiously with his sword. Perhaps it was good for me that I had got no clothes on ; for, being utterly unencumbered, I leapt this way and that, and avoided his fierce, eager strokes till I could collect myself somewhat ; while he had a heavy scarlet cloak on that trailed on the ground, and which he often trod on, so that he stumbled. He very nearly slew me during the first few minutes, for it was not strange that, together with other matters, I should have forgotten the art of fence : but yet, as I went on, and sometimes bounded about the hall under the whizzing of his sword, as he rested sometimes, leaning on it, as the point sometimes touched my bare flesh, nay, once as the whole sword fell fiatlings on my head and made my eyes start out, I remembered the old joy that I used to have, and the sivy, swy, of the sharp edge, as one gazed between one's horse's ears ; moreover, at 160 PROSE ROMANCES last, one fierce s^ift stroke, just touching me below the throat, tore up the skin all down my body, and fell heavy on my thigh, so that I drew my breath in and turned white ; then first, as I swung my sword round my head, our blades met, oh ! to hear that tchink again ! and I felt the notch my sword made in his, and swung out at him ; but he guarded it and returned on me ; I guarded right and left, and grew warm, and opened my mouth to shout, but knew not what to say ; and our sword points fell on the floor together : then, when we had panted awhile, I wiped from my face the blood that had been dashed over it, shook my sword and cut at him, then we spun round and round in a mad waltz to the measured music of our meeting swords, and sometimes either Avounded the other somewhat, but not much, till I beat down his sword on to his head, that he fell grovel- ling, but not cut through. Verily, thereupon my lips opened mightily with ' Mary rings.' Then, when he had gotten to his feet, I went at him again, he staggering back, guarding wildly ; I cut at his head ; he put his sword up confusedly, so I fitted both hands to my hilt, and smote him mightily under the arm : then his shriek mingled with my shout, made a strange sound together ; he rolled over and over, dead, as I thought. I walked about the hall in great exultation at first, striking my sword point on the floor every now and then, till I grew faint with loss of blood ; then I went to my enemy and stripped off some of his clothes to bind up my wounds withal ; afterwards I found in a corner bread and wine, and I eat and drank thereof. Then I went back to him, and looked, and a thought struck me, and I took some of his paints and brushes, and, kneeling down, painted his face thus, with stripes of yellow and red, crossing each other at right angles ; and in each of the squares so made I put a spot of black, after the manner of the painted letters in the prayer- books and romances when they are ornamented. So I stood back as painters use, folded my arms, and admired my own handiwork. Yet there struck me as THE HOLLOW LAND 161 being something so utterly doleful in the man's white face, and the blood running all about him, and washing off the stains of paint from his face and hands, and splashed clothes, that my heart misgave me, and I hoped that he was not dead ; I took some water from a vessel he had been using for his painting, and, kneeling, washed his face. Was it some resemblance to my father's dead face, which I had seen when I was young, that made me pity him ? I laid my hand upon his heart, and felt it beating feebly ; so I lifted him up gently, and carried him towards a heap of straw that he seemed used to lie upon ; there I stripped him and looked to his wounds, and used leech-craft, the memory of which God gave me for this purpose, I suppose, and within seven days I found that he would not die. Afterwards, as I wandered about the castle, I came to a room in one of the upper stories, that had still the roof on, and windows in it with painted glass, and there I found green raiment and swords and armour, and I clothed myself. So when he got well I asked him what his name was, and he me, and we both of us said, ' truly I know not.' Then said I, ' but we must call each other some name, even as men call days.' ' Call me Swerker,' he said, ' some priest I knew once had that name.' ' And me Wulf,' said I, ' though wherefore I know not.' Then he said : ' Wulf, I will teach you painting now, come and learn.' Then I tried to learn painting till I thought I should die, but at last learned it through very much pain and grief. And, as the years went on and we grew old and grey^ we painted purple pictures and green ones instead of the scarlet and yellow, so that the walls looked altered, and always we painted God's judgements. And we would sit in the sunset and watch them with the golden light changing them, as we yet hoped God would change both us and our works. MORRIS jj 162 PROSE ROMANCES Often too we would sit outside the walls and look at the trees and sky, and the ways of the few men and women we saw ; therefrom sometimes befell adventures. Once there went past a great funeral of some king going to his own country, not as he had hoped to go, but stiff and colourless, spices filling up the place of his heart. And first went by very many knights, with long bright hauberks on, that fell down before their knees as they rode, and they all had tilting-helms on with the same crest, so that their faces were quite hidden : and this crest was two hands clasped together tightly as though they were the hands of one praying forgiveness from the one he loves best ; and the crest was wrought in gold. Moreover, they had on over their hauberks surcoats which were half scarlet and half purple, strewn about with golden stars. Also long lances, that had forked knights' -pennons, half purple and half scarlet, strewn with golden stars. And these went by with no sound but the fall of their horse-hoofs. And they went slowly, so slowly that we counted them all, five thousand five hundred and fifty-five. Then went by many fair maidens whose hair was loose and yellow, and who were all clad in green raiment ungirded, and shod with golden shoes. These also we counted, being five hundred ; moreover some of the outermost of them, viz., one maiden to every twenty, had long silver trumpets, which they swung out to right and left, blowing them, and their sound was very sad. Then many priests, and bishops, and abbots, who wore white albs and golden copes over them ; and they all sang together mournfully, ' Propter amnem Babylonis ; ' and these were three hundred. After that came a great knot of the Lords, who wore tilting helmets and surcoats emblazoned with each one his own device ; only each had in his hand a small staff two feet long whereon was a pennon of scarlet and purple. These also were three hundred. THE HOLLOW LAND 163 And in the midst of these was a great car hung down to the ground with purple, drawn by grey horses whose trappings were half scarlet, half purple. And on this car lay the King, whose head and hands were bare ; and he had on him a surcoat, half purple &nd half scarlet, strewn with golden stars. And his head rested on a tilting helmet, whose crest was the hands of one praying passionately for forgiveness. But his own hands lay by his side as if he had just fallen asleep. And all about the car were little banners, half purple and half scarlet, strewn with golden stars. Then the King, who counted but as one, went by also. And after him came again many maidens clad in ungirt white raiment strewn with scarlet flowers, and their hair was loose and yellow and their feet bare : and, except for the falling of their feet and the rustle of the wind through their raiment, they went past quite silently. These also were five hundred. Then lastly came many young knights with long bright hauberks falling over their knees as they rode, and surcoats, half scarlet and half purple, strewn with golden stars ; they bore long lances with forked pennons which were half purple, half scarlet, strewn with golden stars ; their heads and their hands were bare, but they bore shields, each one of them, which were of bright steel wrought cunningly in the midst with that bearing of the two hands of one who prays for forgiveness ; which was done in gold. These were but five hundred. Then they all went by winding up and up the hill roads, and, when the last of them had departed out of our sight, we put down our heads and wept, and I said, ' Sing us one of the songs of the Hollow Land.' Then he whom I had called Swerker put his hand into his bosom, and slowly drew out a long, long tress of black hair, and laid it on his knee and smoothed it, weeping on it : So then I left him there and went and armed myself, and brought armour for him. And then came back to him and threw the armour down so that it clanged, and said : M 2 164 PROSE ROMANCES ' ! Harald, let us go ! ' He did not seem surprised that I called him by the right name, but rose and armed himself, and then he looked a good knight ; so we set forth. And in a turn of the long road we came suddenly upon a most fair woman, clothed in scarlet, who sat and sobbed, holding her face between her hands, and her hair was very black. And when Harald saw her, he stood and gazed at her for long through the bars of his helmet, then suddenly turned, and said : ' Florian, I must stop here ; do you go on to the Hollow Land. Farewell.' ' Farewell.' And then I went on, never turning back, and him I never saw more. And so I went on, quite lonely, but happy, till I had reached the Hollow Land. Into which I let myself down most carefully, by the jutting rocks and bushes and strange trailing flowers, and there lay down and fell asleep. Fytte the Third And I was waked by some one singing ; I felt very happy ; I felt young again ; I had fair delicate raiment on, my sword was gone, and my armour ; I tried to think where I was, and could not for my happiness ; I tried to listen to the words of the song. Nothing, only an old echo in my ears, only all manner of strange scenes from my wretched past life before my eyes in a dim, far-off manner : then at last, slowly, without effort, I heard what she sang. 'Christ keep the Hollow Land All the summer-tide ; Still we cannot understand Where the waters glide ; ' Only dimly seeing them Coldly slipping through Many green-lipp'd cavern mouths. Where the hills are blue.' THE HOLLOW LAND 165 ' Then,' she said, ' come now and look for it, love, a hollow city in the Hollow Land.' I kissed Margaret, and we went. • ••••••••• Through the golden streets under the purple shadows of the houses we went, and the slow fanning backward and forward of the many-coloured banners cooled us : we two alone ; there was no one with us, no soul will ever be able to tell what we said, how we looked. At last we came to a fair palace, cloistered off in the old time, before the city grew golden from the din and hubbub of traffic ; those who dwelt there in the old ungolden times had had their o\vn joys, their own sor- rows, apart from the joys and sorrows of the multitude: so, in like manner, was it now cloistered off from the eager leaning and brotherhood of the golden dwellings : so now it had its own gaiety, its own solemnity, apart from theirs ; unchanged, unchangeable, were its marble walls, whatever else changed about it. We stopped before the gates and trembled, and clasped each other closer ; for there among the marble leafage and tendrils that were round and under and over the archway that held the golden valves, were wrought two figures of a man and woman, winged and garlanded, whose raiment flashed with stars ; and their faces were like faces w^e had seen or half seen in some dream long and long and long ago, so that we trembled with awe and delight ; and I turned, and seeing Margaret, saw that her face was that face seen or half seen long and long and long ago ; and in the shining of her eyes I saw that other face, seen in that way and no other long and long and long ago — my face. And then we walked together toward the golden gates, and opened them, and no man gainsaid us. And before us lay a great space of flowers. GOLDEN WINGS (Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, December 1856) Lyf lythes to mee Twa wordes or three, Of one who was fair and free. And fell in his fight. ' Sir Percival. I SUPPOSE my birth was somewhat after the birth of Sir Percival of Galles, for I never saw my father, and my mother brought me up quaintly ; not like a poor man's son, though, indeed, we had little money, and lived in a lone place : it Avas on a bit of waste land near a river ; moist, and without trees ; on the drier parts of it folks had built cottages — see, I can count them on my fingers — six cottages, of which ours was one. Likewise, there was a little chapel, with a yew tree and graves in the church-yard — graves — yes, a great many graves, more than in the yards of many Minsters I have seen, because people fought a battle once near us, and buried many bodies in deep pits, to the east of the chapel ; but this was before I was born. I have talked to old knights since who fought in that battle, and who told me that it was all about an old lady that they fought ; indeed, this lady, who was a queen, was afterwards, by her own wish, buried in the aforesaid chapel in a most fair tomb ; her image was of latoun gilt, and with a colour on it ; her hands and face were of silver, and her hair, gilded and most curiously WTOught, flowed down from her head over the marble. It was a strange thing to see that gold and brass and marble inside that rough chapel which stood on the marshy common, near the river. Now, every St. Peter's day, when the sun was at its hottest, in the midsummer noontide, my mother (though GOLDEN WINGS 167 at other times she only wore such clothes as the folk about us) would dress herself most richly, and shut the shutters against all the windows, and light great candles, and sit as though she were a queen, till the evening : sitting and working at a frame, and singing as she worked. And what she worked at was two wings, wrought in gold, on a blue ground. And as for what she sung, I could never understand it, though I know now it was not in Latin. And she used to charge me straightly never to let any man into the house on St. Peter's day ; therefore, I and our dog, which was a great old bloodhound, always kept the door together. But one St. Peter's day, when I was nearly twenty, I sat in the house watching the door with the blood- hound, and I was sleepy, because of the shut-up heat and my mother's singing, so I began to nod, and at last, though the dog often shook me by the hair to keep me awake, went fast asleep, and began to dream a foolish dream without hearing, as men sometimes do : for I thought that my mother and I were walking to mass through the snow on a Christmas day, but my mother carried a live goose in her hand, holding it by the neck, instead of her rosary, and that I went along by her side, not walking, but turning somersaults like a mountebank, my head never touching the ground ; when we got to the chapel-door, the old priest met us, and said to my mother, ' Why dame alive, your head is turned green ! Ah ! never mind, I will go and say mass, but don't let little Mary there go ' and he pointed to the goose, and went. Then mass begun, but in the midst of it, the priest said out loud, ' Oh I forgot,' and turning round to us began to wag his grey head and white beard, throwing his head right back, and sinking his chin on his breast alternately ; and when we saw him do this, we presently began also to knock our heads against the wall, keeping time with him and with each other, till the priest said, ' Peter ! it's dragon-time now,' whereat the roof flew 168 PROSE ROMANCES off, and a great yellow dragon came down on the chapel- floor with a flop, and danced about clumsily, wriggling his fat tail, and saying to a sort of tune, ' the Devil, the Devil, the Devil, O the Devil,' so I went up to him, and put my hand on his breast, meaning to slay him, and so awoke, and found myself standing up with my hand on the breast of an armed knight ; the door lay flat on the ground, and under it lay Hector, our dog, whining and dying. For eight hours I had been asleep ; on awaking, the blood rushed up into my face, I heard my mother's low mysterious song behind me, and knew not what harm might happen to her and me, if that knight's coming made her cease in it ; so I struck him with my left hand, where his face was bare under his mail coif, and getting my sword in my right, drove its point under his hawberk, so that it came out behind, and he fell, turned over on his face, and died. Then, because my mother still went on working and singing, I said no word, but let him lie there and put the door up again, and found Hector dead. I then sat down again and polished my sword with a piece of leather after I had wiped the blood from it ; and in an hour my mother arose from her work, and raising me from where I was sitting, kissed my brow, saying, ' Well done, Lionel, you have slain your greatest foe, and now the people will know you for what you are before you die — Ah God ! though not before / die.' So I said, ' Who is he, mother ? he seems to be some Lord ; am I a Lord then ? ' ' A King, if the people will but know it,' she said. Then she knelt down by the dead body, turned it round again, so that it lay face uppermost as before, then said : ' And so it has all come to this, has it ? To think that you should run on my son's sword-point at last, after all the wrong you have done me and mine ; now must I work carefully, lest when you are dead you should still do me harm, for that you are a King — Lionel ! ' ' Yea, Mother.' GOLDEN WINGS 169 ' Come here and see ; this is what I have wTOiight these many Peter's days by day, and often other times by night.' ' It is a surcoat, Mother ; for me ? ' ' Yea, but take a spade, and come into the wood.' So we went, and my mother gazed about her for a while as if she were looking for something, but then suddenly went forv/ard with her eyes on the ground, and she said to me : ' Is it not strange, that I who know the very place I am going to take you to, as well as our own garden, should have a sudden fear come over me that I should not find it after all ; though for these nineteen years I have watched the trees change and change all about it — ah ! here, stop now.' We stopped before a great oak ; a beech tree was behind us — she said, ' Dig, Lionel, hereabouts.' So I dug and for an hour found nothing but beech roots, while my mother seemed as if she were going mad, sometimes running about muttering to herself, some- times stooping into the hole and howling, sometimes throwing herself on the grass and twisting her hands together above her head ; she went once down the hill to a pool that had filled an old gravel pit, and came back dripping and with wild eyes ; ' I am too hot,' she said, ' far too hot this St. Peter's day.' Clink just then from my spade against iron ; my mother screamed, and I dug with all my might for another hour, and then beheld a chest of heavy wood bound with iron ready to be heaved out of the hole ; ' Now, Lionel, weigh it out — hard for your life ! ' And with some trouble I got the chest out ; she gave me a key, I unlocked the chest, and took out another wrapped in lead, which also I xmlocked with a silver key that my mother gave me, and behold therein lay armour — mail for the whole body, made of very small rings wrought most wonderfully, for every ring was fashioned like a serpent, and though they were so small j'et could you see their scales and their eyes, and of some even the forked tongue was on it, and lay on the rivet, and the 170 PROSE ROMANCES rings were gilded here and there into patterns and flowers so that the gleam of it was most glorious — And the mail coif was all gilded and had red and blue stones at the rivets ; and the tilting helm (inside which the mail lay when I saw it first) was gilded also, and had flowers pricked out on it ; and the chain of it was silver, and the crest was two gold wings. And there was a shield of blue set with red stones, which had two gold wings for a cognizance ; and the hilt of the sword was gold, with angels wrought in green and blue all up it, and the eyes in their wings were of pearls and red stones, and the sheath was of silver with green flowers on it. Now when I saw this armour and understood that my mother would have me put it on, and ride out without fear, leaving her alone, I cast myself down on the grass so that I might not see its beauty (for it made me mad), and strove to think ; but what thoughts soever came to me were only of the things that would be, glory in the midst of ladies, battle-joy among knights, honour from all kings and princes and people — these things. But my mother wept softly above me, till I arose with a great shudder of delight and drew the edges of the hawberk over my cheek, I liked so to feel the rings slipping, slipping, till they fell off altogether ; then I said : ' O Lord God that made the world, if I might only die in this armour ! ' Then my mother helped me to put it on, and I felt strange and new in it, and yet I had neither lance nor horse. So when we reached the cottage again she said : ' See now, Lionel, you must take this knight's horse and his lance, and ride away, or else the people will come here to kill another king ; and when you are gone, you will never see me any more in life.' I wept thereat, but she said : ' Nay, but see here.' And taking the dead knight's lance from among the garden lilies, she rent from it the pennon (which had a sword on a red ground for bearing), and cast it carelessly GOLDEN WINGS 171 on the ground, then she bound about it a pennon with my bearing, gold wings on a blue ground ; she bid me bear the Knight's body, all armed as he was, to put on him his helm and lay him on the floor at her bed's foot, also to break his sword and cast it on our hearthstone ; all which things I did. Afterwards she put the surcoat on me, and then lying down in her gorgeous raiment on her bed, she spread her arms out in the form of a cross, shut her eyes, and said : ' Kiss me, Lionel, for I am tired.' And after I had kissed her she died. And I mounted my dead foe's horse and rode away ; neither did I ever know what wrong that was which he had done me, not while I was in the bod}^ at least. And do not blame me for not burying my mother ; I left her there because, though she did not say so to me, yet I knew the thoughts of her heart, and that the thing she had wished so earnestly for these years, and years, and years, had been but to lie dead with him lying dead close to her. So I rode all that night, for I could not stop because of the thoughts that were in me, and, stopping at this place and that, in three days came to the city. And there the King held his court with great pomp. And so I went to the palace, and asked to see the King ; whereuj)on they brought me into the great hall where he was with all his knights, and my heart swelled within me to think that I too was a King. So I prayed him to make me a knight, and he spake graciously, and asked me mj'^ name ; so when I had told it him, and said that I was a king's son, he jjondered, not knowing what to do, for I could not tell him whose son I was. Whereupon one of the knights came near me and shaded his eyes with his hand as one does in a bright Sim, meaning to mock at me for my shining armour, and he drew nearer and nearer till his long stiff beard just touched me, and then I smote him on the face, and he fell on the floor. 172 PROSE ROMANCES So the King being in a rage, roared out from the door, ' Slay him ! ' but I put my shield before me and drew my sword, and the women drew together aside and whispered fearfully, and while some of the knights took spears and stood about me, others got their armour on. And as we stood thus we heard a horn blow, and then an armed knight came into the hall and drew near to the King ; and one of the maidens behind me, came and laid her hand on my shoulder ; so I turned and saw that she was very fair, and then I was glad, but she whispered to me : ' Sir Squire, for a love I have for your face and gold armour, I will give you good counsel ; go presently to the King and say to him : " In the name of Alys des Roses and Sir Guy le Bon Amant I pray you three boons," — do this, and you will be alive, and a knight by to- morrow, otherwise I think hardly the one or the other.' ' The Lord reward you, damoyzel,' I said. Then I saw that the King had left talking with that knight and was just going to stand up and say something out loud, so I went quickly and called out with a loud voice : ' O King Gilbert of the rose-land, I, Lionel of the Golden Wings, pray of you three boons in the name of Alys des Roses and Sir Guy le Bon Amant.' Then the King gnashed his teeth, because he had promised if ever his daughter Alys des Roses came back safe again, he would on that day grant any three boons to the first man who asked them, even if he were his greatest foe. He said, ' Well, then, take them, what are they ? ' ' First, my life ; then, that you should make me a knight ; and thirdly, that you should take me into your service.' He said, ' I will do this, and moreover, I forgive you freely if you will be my true man.' Then we heard shouting arise through all the city because they were bringing the Lady Alys from the ship up to the palace, and the people came to the windows, and the houses were hung with cloths and banners of silk and gold, that swung down right from the eaves to GOLDEN WINGS 173 the ground ; likewise the bells all rang : and within a while they entered the palace, and the trumpets rang and men shouted, so that my head whirled ; and they entered the hall, and the King went down from the dais to meet them. Now a band of knights and of damoyzels went before and behind, and in the midst Sir Guy led the Lady Alys by the hand, and he was a most stately knight, strong and fair. And I indeed noted the first band of knights and damoyzels well, and wondered at the noble presence of the knights, and was filled with joy when I beheld the maids, because of their great beauty ; the second band I did not see, for when they passed I was leanmg back against the wall, wishing to die with my hands before my face. But when I could see, she was hanging about her father's neck, weeping, and she never left him all that night, but held his hand in feast and dance, and even when I was made knight, while the King with his right hand laid his sword over my shoulder, she held his left hand and was close to me. And the next day they held a grand tourney, that I might be proven ; and I had never fought with knights before, yet I did not doubt. And Alys sat under a green canopy, that she might give the degree to the best knight, and by her sat the good knight Sir Guy, in a long robe, for he did not mean to joust that day ; and indeed at first none but young knights jousted, for they thought that I should not do much. But I, looking up to the green canopy, overthrew so many of them, that the elder knights began to arm, and I grew most joyful as I met them, and no man unhorsed me ; and always I broke my spear fairly, or else over- threw my adversary. Now that maiden who counselled me in the hall, told me afterwards that as I fought, the Lady Alys held fast to the rail before her, and leaned forward and was most pale, never answering any word that any one might say to her, till the Knight Guy said to her in anger : ' Alys ! 174 PROSE ROMANCES what ails you ? you would have been glad enough to speak to me when King Wadrayns carried you off shrieking, or that other time when the chain went round about you. and the faggots began to smoke in the Brown City : do you not love me any longer ? Alys, Alys ! just think a little, and do not break your faith with me ; God hates nothing so much as this. Sweet, try to love me, even for your own sake ! See, am I not kind to you ? ' That maiden said that she turned round to him wonderingly, as if she had not caught his meaning, and that just for one second, then stretched out over the lists again. Now till about this time I had made no cry as I jousted. But there came against me a very tall knight, on a great horse, and when we met our spears both shivered, and he howled with vexation, for he wished to slay me, being the brother of that knight I had struck down in the hall the day before. And they say that when Alys heard his howl sounding faintly through the bars of his great helm, she trembled ; but I know not, for I was stronger than that knight, and when we fought with swords, I struck him right out of his saddle, and near slew him with that stroke. Whereupon I shouted ' Alys,' out aloud, and she blushed red for pleasure, and Sir Guy took note of it, and rose up in a rage and ran down and armed. Then presently I saw a great knight come riding in with three black chevrons on a gold shield : and so he began to ride at me, and at first we only broke both our spears, but then he drew his sword, and fought quite in another way to what the other knights had, so that I saw at once that I had no chance against him : nevertheless, for a long time he availed nothing, though he wounded me here and there, but at last drove his sword right through mine, through my shield and my helm, and I fell, and lay like one dead. And thereat the King cried out to cease, and the degree was given to Sir Guy, because I had overthrown forty knights and he had overthrown me. Then they told me, I was carried out of the lists and GOLDEN WINGS 175 laid in a hostelry near the palace, and Guy went up to the pavilion where Alys was and she crowned him, both of them being very pale, for she doubted if I were slain, and he knew that she did not love him, thinking before that she did ; for he was good and true, and had saved her life and honour, and she (poor maid !) wished to please her father, and strove to think that all was right. But I was by no means slain, for the sword had only cleft my helm, and when I came to myself again I felt despair of all things, because I knew not that she loved me, for how should she, knowing nothing of me ? likewise dust had been cast on my gold wings, and she saw it done. Then I heard a great crying in the street, that sounded strangely in the quiet night, so I sent to ask what it might be : and there came presently into my chamber a man in gilded armour ; he was an old man, and his hair and beard were gray, and behind him came six men armed, who carried a dead body of a young man between them, and I said, ' What is it ? who is he ? ' Then the old man, whose head was heavy for grief, said : ' Oh, sir ! this is my son ; for as we went yesterday with our merchandize some twenty miles from this fair town, we passed by a certain hold, and therefrom came a knight and men-at-arms, who when my son would have fought with them, overthrew him and bound him, and me and all our men they said they would slay if we did ought ; so then they cut out my son's eyes, and cut off his hands, and then said, " The Knight of High Gard takes these for tribute." Therewithal they departed, taking with them my son's eyes and his hands on a platter ; and when they were gone I would have followed them, and slain some of them at least, but my own people would not suffer me, and for grief and pain my son's heart burst, and he died, and behold I am here.' Then I thought I could win glory, and I was much reioiced thereat, and said to the old man. Would you love to be revenged ? ' But he set his teeth, and pulled at the skirt of his surcoat, as hardly for his passion he said, ' Yes.' 176 PROSE ROMANCES ' Then,' I said, ' I will go and try to slay this knight, if you will show me the way to La Haute Garde.' And he, taking my hand, said, ' glorious knight, let us go now ! ' And he did not ask who I was, or whether I was a good knight, but began to go down the stairs at once, so I put on my armour and followed him. And we two set forth alone to La Haute Garde, for no man else dared follow us, and I rejoiced in thinking that while Guy was sitting at the King's table feasting, I was riding out to slay the King's enemies, for it never once seemed possible to me that I should be worsted. It was getting light again by then we came in sight of High Gard ; we wound up the hill on foot, for it was very steep ; I blew at the gates a great blast which was even as though the stag should blow his own mort, or like the blast that Balen heard. For in a very short while the gates opened and a great band of armed men, more than thirty I think, and a knight on horseback among them, who was armed in red, stood before us, and on one side of him was a serving- man with a silver dish, on the other, one with a butcher's cleaver, a knife, and pincers. So when the knight saw us he said, ' What, are you come to pay tribute in person, old man, and is this another fair son ? Good sir, how is your lady ? ' So I said grimly, being in a rage, ' I have a will to slay you.' But I could scarce say so before the old merchant rushed at the red knight with a yell, who without moving slew his horse with an axe, and then the men-at-arms speared the old man, slaying him as one would an otter or a rat. Afterwards they were going to set on me, but the red knight held them back, saying : ' Nay, I am enough,' and we spurred our horses. As we met, I felt just as if some one had thrown a dull brown cloth over my eyes, and I felt the wretched spear-point slip off his helm ; then I felt a great pain somewhere, that did not seem to be in my body, but in the world, or the sky, or something of that sort. GOLDEN WINGS 177 And I know not how long that pain seemed to last now, but I think years, though really I grew well and sane again in a few weeks. And when I woke, scarce knowing whether I was in the world or heaven or hell, I heard some one singing. I tried to listen but could not, because I did not know where I was, and was thinking of that ; I missed verse after verse of the song, this song, till at last I saw I must be in the King's palace. There was a window by my bed, I looked out at it, and saw that I was high up ; down in the street the people were going to and fro, and there was a knot of folks gathered about a minstrel, who sat on the edge of a fountain, with his head laid sideways on his shoulder, and nursing one leg on the other ; he was singing only, having no instrument, and he sang the song I had tried to listen to, I heard some of it now : ' He was fair and free. At every tourney He wan the degree. Sir Guy the good knight ' He wan Alys the fair. The king's own daughtere. With all her gold hair. That shone well bright. * He saved a good knight. Who also was wight, And had winges bright On a blue shield. 'And he slew the Knight, Of the High Gard in fight. In red weed that was dight In the open field.' I fell back in my bed and wept, for I was weak with my illness ; to think of this ! truly this man was a perfect knight, and deserved to win Alys. Ah ! well ! but was this the gloi-y I was to have, and no one believed that I was a King's son. And so I passed days and nights, thinking of my dishonour and misery, and my utter loneliness ; no one cared for me ; verily, I think, if any one had spoken to MORRIS Jf 178 PROSE ROMANCES me lovingly, I should have fallen on his neck and died, while I was so weak. But I grew strong at last, and began to walk about, and in the Palace Pleasaunce, one day, I met Sir Guy walking by himself. So I told him how that I thanked him with all my heart for my life, but he said it was only what a good knight ought to do ; for that hearing the mad enterprise I had ridden on, he had followed me swiftly with a few knights, and'so saved me. He looked stately and grand as he spoke, yet I did not love him, nay, rather hated him, though I tried hard not to do so, for there was some air of pitiless triumph and coldness of heart in him that froze me ; so scornfully, too, he said that about ' my mad enterprise,' as though I must be wrong in everything I did. Yet afterwards, as I came to know more, I pitied him instead of hating ; but at that time I thought his life was without a shadow, for I did not know that the Lady Alys loved him not. And now I turned from him, and walked slowly up and down the garden-paths, not exactly thinking, but with some ghosts of former thoughts passing through my mind. The day, too, was most lovely, as it grew towards evening, and I had all the joy of a man lately sick in the flowers and all things ; if any bells at that time had begun to chime, I think I should have lain down on the grass and wept ; but now there was but the noise of the bees in the yellow musk, and that had not music enough to bring me sorrow. And as I walked I stooped and picked a great orange lily, and held it in my hand, and lo ! down the garden- walk, the same fair damozel that had before this given me good counsel in the hall. Thereat I was very glad, and walked to meet her smiling, but she was very grave, and said : * Fair sir, the Lady Alys des Roses wishes to see you in her chamber.' I could not ansv/er a word, but turned, and went with her while she walked slowly beside me, thinking deeply, and picking a rose to pieces as she went ; and I, too, GOLDEN WINGS 179 thought much, what could she want me for ? surely, but for one thing ; and yet — and yet. But when we came to the lady's chamber, behold ! before the door stood a tall knight, fair and strong, and in armour, save his head, who seemed to be guarding the door, though not so as to seem so to all men. He kissed the damozel eagerly, and then she said to me, ' This is Sir William de la Fosse, my true knight ; ' so the knight took my hand and seemed to have such joy of me, that all the blood came up to my face for pure delight. But then the damozel Blanche opened the door and bade me go in while she abode still without ; so I entered, when I had put aside the heavy silken hanging that filled the doorway. And there sat Alys ; she arose when she saw me, and stood pale, and with her lips apart, and her hands hanging loose by her side. And then all doubt and sorrow went quite away from me ; I did not even feel drunk with joy, but rather felt that I could take it all in, lose no least fragment of it ; then at once I felt that I was beautiful, and brave and true ; I had no doubt as to what I should do now. I went up to her, and first kissed her on the forehead, and then on the feet, and then drew her to me, and with my arms round about her, and her arms hanging loose, and her lips dropped, we held our lips together so long that my eyes failed me, and I could not see her, till I looked at her green raiment. And she had never spoken to me yet ; she seemed just then as if she were going to, for she lifted her eyes to mine, and opened her mouth ; but she only said, ' Dear Lionel,' and fell forward as though she were faint ; and again I held her, and kissed her all over ; and then she loosed her hair that it fell to her feet, and when I clipped her next, she threw it over me, that it fell all over my scarlet robes like trickling of some golden well in Paradise. Then within a while, we called in the Lady Blanche and Sir William de la Fosse, and while thev talked about N 2 180 PROSE ROMANCES what we should do, we sat together and kissed ; and what they said, I know not. But I remember, that that night, quite late, Alys and I rode out side by side from the good city in the midst of a great band of knights and men-at-arms, and other bands drew to us as we went, and in three days we reached Sir William's castle, which was called ' La Garde des Chevaliers.' And straightway he caused toll the great bell, and to hang out from the highest tower a great banner of red and gold, cut into so many points that it seemed as if it were tattered ; for this was the custom of his house when they wanted their vassals together. And Aiys and I stood up in the tower by the great bell as they tolled it ; I remember now that I had passed my hand underneath her hair, so that the fingers of it folded over and just lay on her cheek ; she gazed down on the bell, and at every deafening stroke she drew in her breath and opened her eyes to a wide stare down- wards. But on the very day that we came, they arrayed her in gold and flowers (and there were angels and knights and ladies wrought on her gold raiment), and I waited for an hour in the chapel till she came, listening to the swallows outside, and gazing with parted lips at the pictures on the golden walls ; but when she came, I knelt down before the altar, and she knelt down and kissed my lips ; and then the priest came in, and the singers and the censer-boys ; and that chapel was soon con- fusedly full of golden raiment, and incense, and ladies and singing ; in the midst of which I wedded Alys. And men came into knights' gard till we had two thousand men in it, and great store of munitions of war and provisions. But Alys and I lived happily together in the painted hall and in the fair water-meadows, and as yet no one came against us. And still her talk was of deeds of arms, and she was never tired of letting the serpent rings of my mail slip off her wrist and long hand, and she would kiss my GOLDEN WINGS 181 shield and helm and the gold wings on my sureoat, my mother's work, and would talk of the ineffable joy that would be when we had fought through all the evil that was coming on us. Also she would take my sword and lay it on her knees and talk to it, telling it how much she loved me. Yea in all things, O Lord God, Thou knowest that my love was a very child, like thy angels. Oh ! my wise soft-handed love ! endless passion ! endless longing always satisfied ! Think you that the shouting curses of the trumpet broke off our love, or in any ways lessened it ? no, most certainly, but from the time the siege began, her cheeks grew thinner, and her passionate face seemed more and more a part of me ; now too, whenever I happened to see her between the grim fighting she would do nothing but kiss me all the time, or wring my hands, or take my head on her breast, being so eagerly passionate that sometimes a pang shot through me that she might die. Till one day they made a breach in the wall, and when I heard of it for the first time, I sickened, and could not call on God ; but Alys cut me a tress of her yellow hair and tied it in my helm, and armed me, and saying no word, led me down to the breach by the hand, and then went back most ghastly pale. So there on the one side of the breach were the spears of WiHiam de la Fosse and Lionel of the Gold Wings, and on the other the spears of King Gilbert and Sir Guy le Bon Amant, but the King himself was not there ; Sir Guy was. Well, — what would you have ? in this world never yet could two thousand men stand against twenty thousand ; we were almost pushed back with their spear-points, they were so close together : — slay six of them and the spears were as thick as ever ; but if two of our men fell there was straightway a hole. Yet just at the end of this we drove them back in one charge two yards beyond the breach, and behold in the front rank, Sir Guy, utterly fearless, cool, and collected ; nevertheless, with one stroke I broke his helm, end he 182 PROSE ROMANCES fell to the ground before the two armies, even as I fell that day in the lists ; and we drove them twentj^ feet farther, yet they saved Sir Guy. Well, again, — what would you have ? They drove us back again, and they drove us into our inner castle-walls. And I was the last to go in, and just as I was entering, the boldest and nearest of the enemy clutched at my love's hair in my helm, shouting out quite loud, ' Whore's hair for John the goldsmith ! ' At the hearing of which blasphemy, the Lord gave me such strength, that I turned and caught him by the ribs with my left hand, and with my right, by sheer strength, I tore off his helm and part of his nose with it, and then swinging him round about, dashed his brains out against the castle- walls. Yet thereby was I nearly slain, for they surrounded me, only Sir William and the others charged out and rescued me, but hardly. May the Lord help all true men ! In an hour we were all fighting pell mell on the walls of the castle itself, and some were slain outright, and some were wounded, and some yielded themselves and received mercy ; but I had scarce the heart to fight any more, because I thought of Alys lying with her face upon the floor and her agonized hands outspread, trying to clutch something, trying to hold to the cracks of the boarding. So when I had seen William de la Fosse slain by many men, I cast my shield and helm over the battlements, and gazed about for a second, and lo ! on one of the flanking towers, my gold wings still floated by the side of William's white lion, and in the other one I knew my poor Love, whom they had left quite alone, was lying. So then I turned into a dark passage and ran till I reached the tower stairs, up that too I sprang as though a ghost were after me, I did so long to kiss her again before T died, to soothe her too, so that she should not feel this day, when in the aftertimes she thought of it as wholly miserable to her. For I knew they would neither slay her nor treat her cruelly, for in sooth all loved her, only they would make her marry Sir Guy le Bon Amant. GOLDEN WINGS 183 In the topmost room I found her, alas ! alas ! lying on the floor, as I said ; I came to her and kissed her head as she lay, then raised her up ; and I took all my armour off and broke my sword over my knee. And then I led her to the window away from the fighting, from whence we only saw the quiet country, and kissed her lips till she wept and looked no longer sad and wretched ; then I said to her : — ' Now, Love, we must part for a little, it is time for me to go and die.' ' Why should you go away ? ' she said, ' they will come here quick enough, no doubt, and I shall have you longer with me if you stay ; I do not turn sick at the sight of blood.' ' my poor Love ! ' And I could not go because of the praying face ; surely God would grant anything to such a face as that. ' Oh ! ' she said, ' you will let me have you yet a little longer, I see ; also let me kiss your feet.' She threw herself down and kissed them, and then did not get up again at once, but lay there holding my feet. And while she lay there, behold a sudden tramping that she did not hear, and over the green hangings the gleam of helmets that she did not see, and then one pushed aside the hangings with his spear, and there stood the armed men. ' Will not somebody weep for my darling ? ' She sprung up from my feet with a low, J^itter moan, most terrible to hear, she kissed me once on the lips, and then stood aside, with her dear head thrown back, and holding her lovely loose hair strained over her outspread arms, as though she were wearied of all things that had been or that might be. Then one thrust me through the breast with a spear, and another with his sword, which was three inches broad, gave nTb a stroke across the thighs that hit to the bone ; and as I fell forward one cleft me to the teeth with his axe. And then I heard my darling shriek. THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE, AND OTHER POEMS 1858 TO MY FKIEND DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI PAINTER I DEDICATE THESE POEMS THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE But, knowing now that they would have her speak, She threw her wet hair backward from her brow, Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek, As though she had had there a shameful blow, And feeling it shameful to feel ought but shame All through her heart, yet felt her cheek burned so, She must a little touch it ; like one lame She walked away from Gauwaine, with her head Still lifted up ; and on her cheek of flame The tears dried quick ; she stopped at last and said : ' knights and lords, it seems but little skill n To talk of well-known things past now and dead. ' God wot I ought to say, I have done ill. And pray you all forgiveness heartily ! Because you must be right such great lords — still ' Listen, suppose your time were come to die, And you were quite alone and very weak ; Yea, laid a dying while very mightily ' The wind was ruffling up the narrow streak Of river through your broad lands running well : 20 Suppose a hush should come, then some one speak : ' " One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell. Now choose one cloth for ever, which they be, I will not tell you, you must somehow tell ' " Of your own strength and mightiness ; here, see ! " Yea, yea, my lord, and you to ope your eyes. At foot of your familiar bed to see ' A great God's angel standing, with such dyes, Not known on earth, on his great wings, and hands. Held out two ways, light from the inner skies 3° 188 THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE ' Showing him well, and making his commands Seem to be God's commands, moreover, too, Holding within his hands the cloths on wands ; ' And one of these strange choosing cloths was blue, Wavy and long and one cut short and red ; No man could tell the better of the two. ' After a shivering half -hour you said, " God help ! heaven's colour, the blue ; " and he said, " hell." Perhaps you then would roll upon your bed, ' And cry to all good men that loved you well, 4° " Ah Christ ! if only I had known, known, known ; " Launcelot went away, then I could tell, ' Like wisest man how all things would be, moan, And roll and hurt myself, and long to die. And yet fear much to die for what was sown. ' Nevertheless you, Sir Gauwaine, lie, Whatever may have happened through these years, God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.' Her voice was low at first, being full of tears. But as it cleared, it grew full loud and shrill, 50 Growing a windy shriek in all men's ears, A ringing in their startled brains, until She said that Gauwaine lied, then her voice sunk. And her great eyes began again to fill, Though still she stood right up, and never shrunk, But spoke on bravely, glorious lady fair ! Whatever tears her full lips may have drunk. She stood, and seemed to think, and wrung her hair. Spoke out at last with no more trace of shame, With passionate twisting of her body there : 60 ' It chanced upon a day that Launcelot came To dwell at Arthur's court : at Christmas-time This happened ; when the heralds sung his name. THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE 189 ' " Son of King Ban of Benwick," seemed to chime Along with all the bells that rang that day, O'er the white roofs, with little change of rhyme. ' Christmas and whitened winter passed away, And over me the April sunshine came, Made very awful with black hail-clouds, yea ' And in the Summer I grew white with flame, 70 And bowed my head down — Autumn, and the sick Sure knowledge things would never be the same, ' However often Spring might be most thick Of blossoms and buds, smote on me, and I grew Careless of most things, let the clock tick, tick, ' To my unhappy pulse, that beat right through My eager body ; Avhile I laughed out loud, And let my lips curl up at false or true, ' Seemed cold and shallow without any cloud. Behold my judges, then the cloths were brought : 80 While I was dizzied thus, old thoughts would crowd, ' Belonging to the time ere I was bought By Arthur's great name and his little love. Must I give up for ever then, I thought, ' That which I deemed would ever round me move Glorifying all things ; for a little word. Scarce ever meant at all, must I now prove ' Stone-cold for ever ? Pray you, does the Lord Will that all folks should be quite happy and good ? I love God now a httle, if this cord 9° * Were broken, once for all what striving could Make me love anything in earth or heaven. So day by day it grew, as if one should ' Slip slowly down some path worn smooth and even, Down to a cool sea on a summer day ; Yet still in slipping was there some small leaven 190 THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE ' Of stretched hands catching small stones by the way, Until one surely reached the sea at last, And felt strange new joy as the worn head lay ' Back, with the hair like sea-weed ; yea all past loo Sweat of the forehead, dryness of the lips, Washed utterly out by the dear waves o'ercast ' In the lone sea, far off from any ships ! Do I not know now of a day in Spring 1 No minute of that wild day ever slips ' From out my memory ; I hear thrushes sing, And wheresoever I may be, straightway Thoughts of it all come up with most fresh sting ; ' I was half mad with beauty on that day, And went without my ladies all alone, no In a quiet garden walled round every way ; ' I was right joyful of that wall of stone. That shut the flowers and trees up with the sky, And trebled all the beauty : to the bone, ' Yea right through to my heart, grown very shy With weary thoughts, it pierced, and made me glad ; Exceedinglj^ glad, and I knew verily, ' A little thing just then had made me mad ; I dared not think, as I was wont to do, Sometimes, upon my beauty ; if I had 120 ' Held out my long hand up against the blue, And, looking on the tenderly darken'd fingers, Thought that by rights one ought to see quite through, ' There, see you, where the soft still light yet lingers, Round by the edges ; what should I have done, If this had joined with yellow spotted singers, ' And startling green drawn upward by the sun ? But shouting, loosed out, see now ! all my hair, And trancedly stood watching the west wind run THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE 191 ' With faintest half-heard breathing sound — whj^ there I lose my head e'en now in doing this ; 131 But shortly listen — In that garden fair ' Came Launcelot walking ; this is true, the kiss Wherewith we kissed in meeting that spring day, I scarce dare talk of the remember'd bliss, ' When both our mouths went wandering in one way, And aching sorely, met among the leaves ; Our hands being left behind strained far away. ' Never within a yard of my bright sleeves Had Launcelot come before — and now, so nigh 1 140 After that day why is it Guenevere grieves ? ' Nevertheless you, Sir Gauwaine, lie. Whatever happened on through all those years, God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie. ' Being such a lady could I weep these tears If this were true ? A great queen such as I Having sinn'd this way, straight her conscience sears ; * And afterwards she liveth hatefully, Slaying and poisoning, certes never weeps, — Gauwaine be friends now, speak me lovinglj'. 150 ' Do I not see how God's dear pity creeps All through your frame, *nd trembles in your mouth ? Remember in what grave your mother sleeps, ' Buried in some place far down in the south, Men are forgetting as I speak to you ; By her head sever'd in that awful drouth ' Of pity that drew Agravaine's fell blow, I pray your pity ! let me not scream out For ever after, when the shrill winds blow ' Through half your castle-locks ! let me not shout 160 For ever after in the winter night When you ride out alone ! in battle-rout 192 THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE ' Let not my rusting tears make your sword light ! Ah ! God of mercy how he turns away ! So, ever must I dress me to the fight, ' So — ^let God's justice work ! Gauwaine, I say. See me hew down your proofs : yea all men know Even as you said how Mellyagraunce one day, ' One bitter day in la Fausse Garde, for so All good knights held it after, saw — 170 Yea, sirs, by cursed unknightly outrage ; though ' You, Gauwaine, held his word without a flaw. This Mellyagraunce saw blood upon my bed — Whose blood then pray you ? is there any law ' To make a queen say why some spots of red Lie on her coverlet ? or will you say, " Your hands are white, lady, as when you wed, ' " Where did you bleed ? " and must I stammer out — " Nay, I blush indeed, fair lord, only to rend My sleeve up to my shoulder, where there lay 180 ' " A knife-point last night : " so must I defend The honour of the lady Guenevere ? Not so, fair lords, even if the world should end ' This very day, and you were judges here Instead of God. Did you see Mellyagraunce When Launcelot stood by him ? what white fear ' Curdled his blood, and how his teeth did dance. His side sink in ? as my knight cried and said, " Slayer of unarm'd men, here is a chance ! ' " Setter of traps, I pray you guard your head, 190 By God I am so glad to fight with you. Stripper of ladies, that my hand feels lead ' " For driving weight ; hurrah now ! draw and do, For all my wounds are moving in my breast. And I am getting mad with waiting so." THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE 193 * He struck his hands together o'er the beast, Who fell down flat, and grovell'd at his feet, And groan'd at being slain so young — " at least." ' My knight said, " Rise you, sir, who are so fleet At catching ladies, half-arm'd will I fight, 200 My left side all uncovered ! " then I weet, * Up sprang Sir Mellyagraunce with great delight Upon his knave's face ; not until just then Did I quite hate him, as I saw my knight ' Along the lists look to my stake and pen With such a joyous smile, it made me sigh From agony beneath my waist-chain, when ' The fight began, and to me they drew nigh ; Ever Sir Launcelot kept him on the right, And traversed warily, and ever high 210 ' And fast leapt caitiff's sword, until my knight Sudden threw up his sword to his left hand, Caught it, and swung it ; that was all the fight. * Except a spout of blood on the hot land ; For it was hottest summer ; and I know I wonder'd how the fire, while I should stand, * And burn, against the heat, would quiver so. Yards above my head ; thus these matters went ; Which things were only warnings of the woe ' That fell on me. Yet Mellyagraunce was shent, 220 For Mellyagraunce had fought against the Lord ; Therefore, my lords, take heed lest you be blent ' With all this wickedness ; say no rash word Against me, being so beautiful ; my eyes. Wept all away to grey, may bring some sword ' To drown you in your blood ; see my breast rise, Like waves of purple sea, as here I stand ; And how my arms are moved in wonderful wise, JIORKIS Q 194 THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE ' Yea also at my full heart's strong command, See through my long throat how the words go up 230 In ripples to my mouth ; how in my hand ' The shadow lies like wine within a cup Of marvellously colour'd gold ; yea now This little wind is rising, look you up, ' And wonder how the light is falling so Within my moving tresses : will you dare. When you have looked a little on my brow, ' To say this thing is vile ? or will you care For any plausible lies of cunning woof. When you can see my face with no lie there 240 ' For ever ? am I not a gracious proof — " But in your chamber Launcelot was found " — Is there a good knight then would stand aloof, ' When a queen says with gentle queenly sound : " O true as steel come now and talk with me, I love to see your step upon the ground * " Unwavering, also well I love to see That gracious smile light up your face, and hear Your wonderful words, that all mean verily ' " The thing they seem to mean : good friend, so dear To me in everything, come here to-night, 251 Or else the hours will pass most dull and drear ; ' " If you come not, I fear this time I might Get thinking over much of times gone by. When I was young, and green hope was in sight ; For no man cares now to know why I sigh ; And no man comes to sing me pleasant songs, Nor any brings me the sweet flowers that lie ' " So thick in the gardens ; therefore one so longs To see you, Launcelot ; that Ave may be 260 Like children once again, free from all wrongs THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE 195 ' " Just for one night." Did he not come to me ? What thing could keep true Launcelot away If I said " come " ? there was one less than three ' In my quiet room that night, and we were gay ; Till sudden I rose up, weak, pale, and sick, Because a bawling broke our dream up, yea ' I looked at Launcelot's face and could not speak, For he looked helpless too, for a little while ; Then I remember how I tried to shriek, 270 * And could not, but fell down ; from tile to tile The stones they threw up rattled o'er my head, And made me dizzier ; till within a while ' My maids were all about me, and my head On Launcelot's breast was being soothed away From its white chattering, until Launcelot said — 'O' ' By God ! I will not tell j^ou more to-day. Judge any way you will— what matters it ? You know quite well the story of that fray, ' How Launcelot still'd their bawling, the mad fit 280 That caught up Gauwaine — all, all, verily. But just that which would save me ; these things flit. ' Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie. Whatever may have happen'd these long 3'ears, God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie ! ' All I have said is truth, by Christ's dear tears.' She would not speak another word, but stood Turn'd sideways ; listening, like a man who hears His brother's trumpet sounding through the wood Of his foes' lances. She lean'd eagerly, 290 And gave a slight spring sometimes, as she could At last hear something really ; joyfully Her cheek grew crimson, as the headlong speed Of the roan charger drew all men to see. The knight who came was Launcelot at good need. o 2 196 KING ARTHUR'S TOMB Hot August noon — already on that day Since sunrise through the Wiltshire downs, most sad Of mouth and eye, he had gone leagues of way ; Ay and by night, till whether good or bad He was, he knew not, though he knew perchance That he was Launcelot, the bravest knight Of all who since the world was, have borne lance. Or swung their swords in wrong cause or in right. Nay, he knew nothing now, except that where The Glastonbury gilded towers shine, lo A lady dwelt, whose name was Guenevere ; This he knew also ; that some fingers twine. Not only in a man's hair, even his heart, (Making him good or bad I mean,) but in his life, Skies, earth, men's looks and deeds, all that has part, Not being ourselves, in that half-sleep, half-strife, (Strange sleep, strange strife,) that men call living ; so Was Launcelot most glad when the moon rose. Because it brought new memories of her — ' Lo, Between the trees a large moon, the wind lows 20 * Not loud, but as a cow begins to low, Wishing for strength to make the herdsman hear : The ripe corn gathereth dew ; yea, long ago, In the old garden life, my Guenevere ' Loved to sit still among the flowers, till night Had quite come on, hair loosen'd, for she said. Smiling like heaven, that its fairness might Draw up the wind sooner to cool her head. ' Now while I ride how quick the moon gets small. As it did then — I tell myself a tale 30 That will not last beyond the whitewashed wall, Thoughts of some joust must help me through the vale, KING ARTHUR'S TOMB 197 ' Keep this till after — How Sir Garcth ran A good course that day under my Queen's eyes, And how she sway'd laughing at Dinadan — No — back again, the other thoughts will rise, ' And yet I think so fast 'twill end right soon — Verily then I think, that Guenevere, Made sad by dew and wind, and tree-barred moon, Did love me more than ever, was more dear 40 ' To me than ever, she would let me lie And kiss her feet, or, if I sat behind, Would drop her hand and arm most tenderly. And touch my mouth. And she would let me wind ' Her hair around ray neck, so that it fell Upon my red robe, strange in the twilight With many unnamed colours, till the bell Of her mouth on my cheek sent a delight ' Through all my ways of being ; like the stroke Wherewith God threw all men upon the face 50 When he took Enoch, and when Enoch woke With a changed body in the happy place. ' Once, I remember, as I sat beside. She turn'd a little, and laid back her head And slept upon my breast : I almost died In those night-watches with my love and dread, ' There lily-like she bow'd her head and slept. And I breathed low, and did not dare to move, But sat and quiver'd inwardl}^ thoughts crept. And frighten'd me with pulses of my Love. 60 ' The stars shone out above the doubtful green Of her boddice, in the green sky overhead ; Pale in the green sky were the stars I ween, Because the moon shone like a star she shed ' When she dwelt up in heaven a while ago. And ruled all things but God : the night went on, The wind grew cold, and the white moon grew low One hand had fallen down, and now lay on 198 KING ARTHUR'S TOMB * My cold stiff palm ; there were no colours then For near an hour, and I fell asleep 70 In spite of all my striving, even when I held her whose name-letters make me leap. ' I did not sleep long, feeling that in sleep I did some loved one wrong, so that the sun Had only just arisen from the deep Still land of colours, when before me one ' Stood whom I knew, but scarcely dared to touch, She seemed to have changed so in the night ; Moreover she held scarlet lilies, such As Maiden Margaret bears upon the light 80 * Of the great church walls, natheless did I walk Through the fresh wet woods, and the wheat that morn. Touching her hair and hand and mouth, and talk Of love we held, nigh hid among the corn. ' Back to the palace, ere the sun grew high. We went, and in a cool green room all day I gazed upon the arras giddily, Where the wind set the silken kings a-sway. ' I could not hold her hand, or see her face ; For which may God forgive me ! but I think, 90 Howsoever, that she was not in that place.' These memories Launcelot was quick to drink ; And when these fell, some paces past the wall. There rose yet others, but they wearied more, And tasted not so sweet ; they did not fall So soon, but vaguely wrenched his strained heart sore In shadowy slipping from his grasp ; these gone, A longing followed ; if he might but touch That Guenevere at once ! Still night, the lone Grey horse's head before him vex'd him much, 100 In steady nodding over the grey road — Still night, and night, and night, and emptied heart Of any stories ; what a dismal load Time grew at last, yea, when the night did part, KING ARTHUR'S TOMB 199 And let the sun flame over all, still there The horse's grey ears turn'd this way and that. And still he watch'd them twitching in the glare Of the morning sun, behind them still he sat, Quite wearied out with all the v/retched night, Until about the dustiest of the day, no On the last down's brow he drew his rein in sight Of the Glastonbury roofs that choke the way. And he was now quite giddy as before. When she slept by him, tired out and her hair Was mingled with the rushes on the floor. And he, being tired too, was scarce aware Of her presence ; yet as he sat and gazed, A shiver ran throughout him, and his breath Came slower, he seem'd suddenly amazed. As though he had not heard of Arthur's death. 120 This for a moment only, presently He rode on giddy still, until he reach'd A place of apple-trees, by the thorn-tree Wherefrom St. Joseph in the days past preached. Dazed there he laid his head upon a tomb. Not knowing it was Arthur's, at which sight One of her maidens told her, ' he is come,' And she went forth to meet him/ yet a blight Had settled on her, all her robes were black. With a long white veil only ; she went slow, 130 As one walks to be slain, her eyes did lack Half her old glory, yea, alas ! the glow Had left her face and hands ; this was because As she lay last night on her purple bed. Wishing for morning, grudging every pause Of the palace clocks, until that Launcelot's head Should lie on her breast, with all her golden hair Each side — when suddenly the thing grew drear. In morning twilight, when the grey downs bare Grew into lumps of sin to Guenevere. 140 200 KING ARTHUR'S TOMB At first she said no word, but lay quite still, Only her mouth was open, and her eyes Gazed wretchedly about from hill to hill ; As though she asked, not with so much surprise As tired disgust, what made them stand up there So cold and grey. After, a spasm took Her face, and all her frame, she caught her hair. All her hair, in both hands, terribly she shook. And rose till she was sitting in the bed, 149 Set her teeth hard, and shut her eyes and seem'd As though she would have torn it from her head, Natheless she dropp'd it, lay down, as she deem'd It matter' d not whatever she might do — O Lord Christ ! pity on her ghastly face ! Those dismal hours while the cloudless blue Drew the sun higher — He did give her grace ; Because at last she rose up from her bed, And put her raiment on, and knelt before The blessed rood, and with her dry lips said, Muttering the words against the marble floor . 160 ' Unless you pardon, what shall I do. Lord, But go to hell ? and there see day by day Foul deed on deed, hear foulest word on word, For ever and ever, such as on the way ' To Camelot I heard once from a churl, That curled me up upon my jennet's neck With bitter shame ; how then, Lord, should I curl For ages and for ages ? dost thou reck ' That I am beautiful, Lord, even as you And your dear Mother ? why did I forget You were so beautiful, and good, and true. That you loved me so, Guenevere ? yet ' If even I go hell, I cannot choose But love you, Christ, yea, though I cannot keep From lovmg Launcelot ; Christ ! must I lose My own heart's love ? see though I cannot weep, 170 KING ARTHUR'S TOMB 201 ' Yet am I very sorry for my sin ; Moreover, Christ, I cannot bear that hell, I am most fain to love you, and to win A place in heaven some time — I cannot tell — i8o ' Speak to me, Christ ! I kiss, Idss, kiss your feet ; Ah ! now I weep ! ' — The maid said, ' By the tomb He waiteth for you, lady,' coming fleet, Not knowing what woe filled up all the room. So Guenevere rose and went to meet him there. He did not hear her coming, as he lay On Arthur's head, till some of her long hair Brush'd on the new-cut stone — ' Well done ! to pray ' For Arthur, my dear lord, the greatest king That ever lived.' ' Guenevere ! Guenevere ! 190 Do you not know me, are you gone mad ? fling Your arms and hair about me, lest I fear ' You are not Guenevere, but some other thing.' ' Pray you forgive me, fair lord Launcelot ! I am not mad, but I am sick ; they cling, God's curses, unto such as I am ; not ' Ever again shall we twine arms and lips.' ' Yea, she is mad : thy heavy law, Lord, Is very tight about her now, and grips Her poor heart, so that no right word 200 ' Can reach her mouth ; so, Lord, forgive her now. That she not knowing what she does, being mad. Kills me in this way — Guenevere, bend low And kiss me once ! for God's love kiss me ! sad ' Though your face is, you look much kinder now ; Yea once, once for the last time kiss me, lest I die.' ' Christ ! my hot lips are very near his brow. Help me to save his soul ! — ^Yea, verily, ' Across my husband's head, fair Launcelot ! Fair serpent mark'd M-ith V upon the head ! 210 This thing we did while yet he was alive. Why not, twisting knight, now he is dead ? 202 KING ARTHUR'S TOMB ' Yea, shake ! shake now and shiver ! if you can Remember anything for agony, Pray you remember how when the wind ran One cool spring evening through fair aspen-tree, ' And elm and oak about the palace there, The king came back from battle, and I stood To meet him, with my ladies, on the stair, My face made beautiful with my young blood.' 220 * Will she lie now, Lord God ? ' ' Remember too. Wrung heart, how first before the knights there came A royal bier, hung round with green and blue. About it shone great tapers with sick flame. ' And thereupon Lucius, the Emperor, Lay royal-robed, but stone-cold now and dead. Not able to hold sword or sceptre more. But not quite grim ; because his cloven head ' Bore no marks now of Launcelot's bitter sword, Being by embalmers deftly solder'd up ; 230 So still it seem'd the face of a great lord. Being mended as a craftsman mends a cup. ' Also the heralds sung rejoicingly To their long trumpets ; " Fallen under shield. Here lieth Lucius, King of Italy, Slain by Lord Launcelot in open field." ' Thereat the people shouted " Launcelot ! " And through the spears I saw you drawing nigh, You and Lord Arthur — nay, I saw you not, But rather Arthur, God would not let die, 240 ' I hoped, these many years, he should grow great, And in his great arms still encircle me, Kissing my face, half -blinded with the heat Of king's love for the queen I used to be. ' Launcelot, Launcelot, why did he take your hand, When he had kissed me in his kingly way ? Saying, " This is the knight whom all the land Calls Arthur's banner, sword, and shield to-day ; KING ARTHUR'S TOMB 203 Cherish him, love." Why did your long lips cleave In such strange way unto my fingers then ? 250 So eagerly glad to kiss, so loath to leave When you rose up ? Why among helmed men ' Could I always tell you by your long strong arms, And sway like an angel's in your saddle there ? Why sicken'd I so often with alarms Over the tilt-yard ? Why were you more fair ' Than aspens in the autumn at their best ? Why did you fill all lands with your great fame, So that Breuse even, as he rode, fear'd lest At turning of the way your shield should flame ? 260 Was it nought then, my agony and strife ? When as day passed by day, year after year, I found I could not live a righteous life ? Didst ever think queens held their truth dear ? ' O, but your lips say, " Yea, but she was cold Sometimes, always uncertain as the spring ; When I was sad she would be overbold. Longing for kisses ; " when war-bells did ring, ' The back-toll'd bells of noisy Camelot ' — ' Now, Lord God, listen ! listen, Guenevere, 270 Though I am weak just now, I think there's not A man who dares to say, " You hated her, And left her moaning while you fought your fill In the daisied meadows ; " lo you her thin hand, That on the carven stone can not keep still. Because she loves me against God's command, ' Has often been quite wet with tear on tear. Tears Launcelot keeps somewhere, surely not In his own heart, perhaps in Heaven, where He will not be these ages.' — ' Launcelot ! 280 Loud lips, wrung heart ! I say, when the bells rang, The noisy back-toll'd bells oi Camelot, There were two spots on earth, the thrushes sang In the lonely gardens where my love was not, 204 KING ARTHUR'S TOMB ' Where I was almost weeping ; I dared not Weep quite in those days, lest one maid should say, In tittering whispers ; " Where is Launcelot To wipe with some kerchief those tears away ? " ' Another answer sharply with brows knit, And warning hand up, scarcely lower though, 290 " You speak too loud, see you, she heareth it, This tigress fair has claws, as I well know, ' " As Launcelot knows too, the poor knight ! well-a- day ! Why met he not with Iseult from the West, Or, better still, Iseult of Brittany, Perchance indeed quite ladyless were best." ' Alas, my maids, you loved not overmuch Queen Guenevere, uncertain as sunshine In March ; forgive me ! for my sin being such. About my whole life, all my deeds did twine, 300 ' Made me quite wicked ; as I found out then, I think ; in the lonely palace, where each morn We went, my maids and I, to say prayers when They sang mass in the chapel on the lawn. ' And every morn I scarce could pray at all, For Launcelot's red-golden hair would play. Instead of sunlight, on the painted wall, Mingled with dreams of what the priest did say ; ' Grim curses out of Peter and of Paul ; Judging of strange sins in Leviticus ; 310 Another sort of writing on the wall. Scored deep across the painted heads of us. ' Christ sitting with the woman at the well. And Mary Magdalen repenting there, Her dimmed eyes scorch'd and red at sight of hell So hardly 'scaped, no gold light on her hair, ' And if the priest said anything that seem'd To touch upon the sin they said we did, — (This in their teeth) they look'd as if they deem'd That I was spying what thoughts might be hid 320 KING ARTHUR'S TOMB 205 ' Under green-cover'd bosoms, heaving quick Beneath quick thoughts ; while they grew red with shame, And gazed down at their feet — ^while I felt sick, And almost shriek'd if one should call my name. ' The thrushes sang in the lone garden there — But where you were the birds were scared I trow — Clanging of arras about pavilions fair, Mixed with the knights' laughs ; there, as I well know, ' Rode Launcelot, the king of all the band, And scowling Gauwaine, like the night in day, 330 And handsome Gareth, with his great white hand Curl'd round the helm-crest, ere he join'd the fray ; * And merry Dinadan with sharp dark face, All true knights loved to see ; and in the fight Great Tristram, and though helmed you could trace In all his bearing the frank noble knight ; 'to ' And by him Palomydes, helmet off. He fought, his face brush'd by his hair. Red heavy swinging hair ; he fear'd a scoff 339 So overmuch, though what true knight would dare ' To mock that face, fretted with useless care. And bitter useless striving after love ? O Palomydes, with much honour bear Beast Glatysaunt upon your shield, above * Your helm that hides the swinging of your hair. And think of Iseult, as your sword drives through Much mail and plate — God, let me be there A little time, as I was long ago ! * Because stout Gareth lets his spear fall low, /Gauwaine, and Launcelot, and Dinadan 35° Are helm'd and waiting ; let the trumpets go ! Bend over, ladies, to see all you can ! 206 KING ARTHUR'S TOMB ' Clench teeth, dames, yea, clasp hands, for Gareth's spear Throws Kay from out his saddle, like a stone From a castle-window when the foe draws near — " Iseult ! " — Sir Dinadan rolleth overthrown. ' " Iseult " — again — the pieces of each spear Fly fathoms up, and both the great steeds reel ; " Tristram for Iseult ! " " Iseult ! " and " Guenevere," The ladies' names bite verily like steel. 360 ' They bite — bite me, Lord God ! — I shall go mad, Or else die kissing him, he is so pale, He thinks me mad already, O bad ! bad ! Let me lie down a little while and wail.' ' No longer so, rise up, I pray you, love, And slay me really, then we shall be heal'd. Perchance, in the aftertime by God above.' ' Banner of Arthur — with black-blended shield ' Sinister-wise across the fair gold ground ! Here let me tell you what a knight you are, 370 sword and shield of Arthur ! you are found A crooked sword, I think, that leaves a scar ' On the bearer's arm, so be he thinks it straight, Twisted Malay's crease beautiful blue-grey, Poison'd with sweet fruit ; as he found too late, My husband Arthur, on some bitter day ! ' sickle cutting hemlock the day long ! That the husbandman across his shoulder hangs. And, going homeward about evensong, 379 Dies the next morning, struck through by the fangs ! ' Banner, and sword, and shield, you dare not pray to die, Lest you meet Arthur in the other world. And knowing who you are, he pass you by, Taking short turns that he may watch you curl'd ' Body and face and limbs in agony, Lest he weep presently and go away, Saying, " I loved him once," with a sad sigh — Now I have slain him, Lord, let me go too, I pray, [Launcelot falls. KING ARTHUR'S TOMB 207 ' Alas, alas ! I know not what to do, If I run fast it is perchance that I 390 May fall and stun myself, much better so, ! Never, never again ! not even when I die.' 1 Launcelot, on awaking. \ ' I stretch'd my hands towards her and fell down, i How long I lay in swoon I cannot tell : My head and hands were bleeding from the stone. When I rose up, also I heard a bell.' SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY It is the longest night in all the year, Near on the day when the Lord Christ was born ; Six hours ago I came and sat down here. And ponder'd sadly, wearied and forlorn. The winter wind that pass'd the chapel-door. Sang out a moody tune, that went right well With mine own thoughts : I look'd down on the floor. Between my feet, until I heard a bell Sound a long way off through the forest deep, And toll on steadily ; a drowsiness 10 Came on me, so that I fell half asleep, As I sat there not moving : less and less I saw the melted snow that hung in beads Upon ray steel-shoes ; less and less I saw Between the tiles the bunches of small weeds : Heartless and stupid, with no touch of awe Upon me, half -shut eyes upon the ground, I thought ; ! Galahad, the days go by, Stop and cast up now that ^Ahich you have found, So sorely you have wrought and painfully. 20 208 SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY Night after night your horse treads down alone The sere damp fern, night after night you sit Holding the bridle like a man of stone, Dismal, unfriended, what thing comes of it. And what if Palomydes also ride, And over many a mountain and bare heath Follow the questing beast with none beside ? Is he not able still to hold his breath With thoughts of Iseult ? doth he not grow pale With weary strivings to seem best of all 30 To her, ' as she is best,' he saith ? to fail Is nothing to him, he can never fall. For unto such a man love-sorrow is So dear a thing unto his constant heart, That even if he never win one kiss, Or touch from Iseult, it will never part. And he will never know her to be worse Than in his happiest dreams he thinks she is : Good knight, and faithful, you have 'scaped the curse In wonderful-wise ; you have great store of bliss. 40 Yea, what if Father Launcelot ride out, Can he not think of Guenevere's arms, round, Warm and lithe, about his neck, and shout Till all the place grows joyful with the sound ? And when he lists can often see her face. And think, ' Next month I kiss you, or next week, And still you think of me : ' therefore the place Grows very pleasant, whatsoever he seek. But me, who ride alone, some carle shall find Dead in my arms in the half -melted snow, 50 When all unkindly with the shifting wind, The thaw comes on at Candlemas : I know Indeed that they will say : ' This Galahad If he had lived had been a right good knight ; x\h ! poor chaste body ! ' but they will be glad, Not most alone, but all, when in their sight SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY 209 That very evening in their scarlet sleeves The gay-dress'd minstrels sing ; no maid will talk Of sitting on my tomb, until the leaves. Grown big upon the bushes of the walk, 60 East of the Palace-pleasaunce, make it hard To see the minster therefrom : well-a-day ! Before the trees by autumn were well bared, I saw a damozel with gentle play, Within that very walk say last farewell To her dear knight, just riding out to find (Why should I choke to say it ?) the Sangreal, And their last kisses sunk into my mind. Yea, for she stood lean'd forward on his breast. Rather, scarce stood ; the back of one dear hand, 7c That it might well be kiss'd, she held and press'd Against his lips ; long time they stood there, fann'd By gentle gusts of quiet frosty wind, Till Mador de la porte a-going by, And my own horsehoofs roused them ; they untwined. And parted like a dream. In this way I, With sleepy face bent to the chapel floor. Kept musing half asleep, till suddenly A sharp bell rang from close beside the door. And I leapt up when something pass'd me by, 80 Shrill ringing going with it, still half blind I stagger' d after, a great sense of awe At every step kept gathering on mj^ mind. Thereat I have no marvel, for I saw One sitting on the altar as a throne. Whose face no man could say he did not know, And though the bell still rang, he sat alone, With raiment half blood-reel, half white as snow. Right so I fell upon the floor and knelt. Not as one kneels in church when mass is said, 90 But in a heap, quite nerveless, for I felt The first time what a thing was perfect dread. MOERIS p 210 SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY But mightily the gentle voice came down : ' Rise up, and look and listen, Galahad, Good knight of God, for you will see no frown Upon my face ; I come to make you glad. * For that you say that you are all alone, I will be with you always, and fear not You are uncared for, though no maiden moan Above your empty tomb ; for Launcelot, loo ' He in good time shall be my servant too, Meantime, take note whose sword first made him knight, And who has loved him alway, yea, and who Still trusts him alway, though in all men's sight, * He is just what you know, Galahad, This love is happy even as you say, But would you for a little time be glad. To make me sorry long day after day ? ' Her warm arms round his neck half -throttle Me, The hot love-tears burn deep like spots of lead, no Yea, and the years pass quick : right dismally Will Launcelot at one time hang his head ; ' Yea, old and shrivell'd he shall win my love. Poor Palomydes fretting out his soul ! Not always is he able, son, to move His love, and do it honour : needs must roll ' The proudest destrier sometimes in the dust. And then 'tis weary work ; he strives beside Seem better than he is, so that his trust Is always on what chances may betide ; 120 ' And so he wears away, my servant, too, When all these things are gone, and wretchedly He sits and longs to moan for Iseult, who Is no care now to Palomydes : see, ' good son Galahad, upon this day, Now even, all these things are on your side, But these j^ou fight not for ; look up, I say. And see how I can love you, for no pride SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY 211 'Closes your eyes, no vain lust keeps them down. See now you have me always ; following 130 That holy vision, Galahad, go on, Until at last you come to Me to sing ' In Heaven always, and to walk around The garden where I am : ' he ceased, my face And wretched body fell upon the ground ; And when I look'd again, the holy place Was empty ; but right so the bell again Came to the chapel-door, there entered Two angels first, in white, without a stain, And scarlet wings, then after them a bed, 140 Four ladies bore, and set it down beneath The very altar-step, and while for fear I scarcely dared to move or draw my breath, These holy ladies gently came a-near, And quite unarm 'd me, saying : ' Galahad, Rest here awhile and sleep, and take no thought Of any other thing than being glad ; Hither the Sangreal will be shortly brought, ' Yet must j^ou sleep the while it stayeth here.' Right so they went away, and I, being weary, 150 Slept long and dream'd of Heaven : the bell comes near, I doubt it grows to morning. Miserere ! Enter Two Angels in ivhite, with scarlet wings ; also Four Ladies in gowns of red and green ; also an Angel, bearing in his hands a surcoat of white, with a red cross. An Angel. servant of the high God, Galahad ! Rise and be arm'd, the Sangreal is gone forth Through the great forest, and j'ou must be had Unto the sea that lieth on the north : p 2 212 SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY There shall you find the wondrous ship wherein The spindles of King Solomon are laid, And the sword that no man draweth without sin. But if he be most pure : and there is stay'd, i6o Hard by. Sir Launcelot, whom you will meet In some short space upon that ship : first, though, Will come here presently that lady sweet, Sister of Percival, whom you well know, And with her Bors and Percival : stand now, These ladies will to arm you. First Lady, putting on the hauberke. Galahad, That I may stand so close beneath your brow, I, Margaret of Antioch, am glad. Second Lady, girding Mm with the sword. That I may stand and touch you with my hand. Galahad, I, Cecily, am glad. 170 Third Lady, buckling on the spurs. That I may kneel while up above you stand. And gaze at me, holy Galahad, I, Lucy, am most glad. Fourth Lady, putting on the basnet. gentle knight. That you bow down to us in reverence., We are most glad, I, Katherine, with delight Must needs fall trembling. Angel, putting on the crossed surcoat. Galahad, we go hence, For here, amid the straying of the snow, Come Percival's sister, Bors, and Percival. [The Four Ladies carry out the bed, and all go but Galahad. SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY 213 Galahad. How still and quiet everything seems now : They come, too, for I hear the horsehoofs fall. i8o Enter Sir Bors, Sir Percival, and his Sister. Fair friends and gentle lady, God you save ! A many marvels have been here to-night ; Tell me what news of Launcelot you have, And has God's body ever been in sight ? Sir Bors. Why, as for seeing that same holy thing. As we were riding slowly side by side. An hour ago, we heard a sweet voice sing. And through the bare twigs saw a great light glide. With many-colour 'd raiment, but far oflF, 189 And so pass'd quickly — from the court nought good ; Poor merrj'' Dinadan, that with jape and scoff Kept us all merry, in a little wood Was found all hack'd and dead : Sir Lionel And Gauwaine have come back from the great quest, Just merely shamed ; and Lauvaine, who loved well Your father Launcelot, at the king's behest Went out to seek him, but was almost slain, Perhaps is dead now ; everywhere The knights come foil'd from the great quest, in vain ; In vain they struggle for the vision fair 200 214 THE CHAPEL IN LYONESS i Sir Ozana le cure Hardy. Sir Galahad. Sir Bors de Ganys. r Sir Ozana. All day long and every day, From Christmas-Eve to Whit-Sunday, Within that Chapel-aisle I lay. And no man came a-near. Naked to the waist was I, And deep within my breast did lie, Though no man any blood could spy, The truncheon of a spear. No meat did ever pass my lips. Those days — (Alas ! the sunlight slips lo From off the gilded parclose, dips. And night comes on apace.) My arms lay back behind my head ; Over my raised-up knees was spread A samite cloth of white and red ; A rose lay on my face. Many a time I tried to shout ; But as in dream of battle-rout. My frozen speech would not well out ; I could not even weep. 20 With inward sigh I see the sun Fade off the pillars one by one. My heart faints when the day is done. Because I cannot sleep. ^ This poem had previously appeared in The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, September 185G. THE CHAPEL IN LYONESS 215 Sometimes strange thoughts pass through my head ; Not like a tomb is this my bed, Yet oft I think that I am dead ; That round my tomb is writ, ' Ozana of the hardy heart, Knight of the Table Round, 30 Pray for his soul, lords, of your part ; A true knight he was found.' Ah ! me, I cannot fathom it. [He sleeps. Sir Galahad. All day long and every day, Till his madness pass'd away, I watch'd Ozana as he lay Within the gilded screen. All my singing moved him not : As I sung my heart grew hot, With the thought of Launcelot 40 Far away, I ween. So I went a little space From out the chapel, bathed my face In the stream that runs apace By the churchyard wall. There I pluck'd a faint wild rose, Hard by where the linden grows Sighing over silver rows Of the lilies tall. I laid the flower across his mouth ; 50 The sparkling drops seem'd good for drouth ; He smiled, turn'd round toward the south, Held up a golden tress. The light smote on it from the west : He drew the covering from his breast. Against his heart that hair he prest ; Death Ijim soon will bless. 216 THE CHAPEL IN LYONESS Sir Bors. I enter'd by the western door ; I saw a knight's helm Ijang there : 1 raised my eyes from off the floor, 60 And caught the gleaming of his hair. I stept full softly up to him ; I laid my chin upon his head ; I felt him smile ; my eyes did swim, I was so glad he was not dead. I heard Ozana murmur low, ' There comes no sleep nor any love.' But Galahad stoop'd and kiss'd his brow : He shiver'd ; I saw his pale lips move. Sir Ozana. There comes no sleep nor any love ; 7° Ah me ! I shiver with delight. I am so weak I cannot move ; God move me to thee, dear, to-night ! Christ help ! I have but little wit : My life went wrong ; I see it writ, ' Ozana of the hardy heart, Knight of the Table Round, Pray for his soul, lords, on your part ; A good knight he was found.' 79 Now I begin to fathom it . [He dies . Sir Bors. Galahad sits dreamily : What strange things may his eyes see. Great blue eyes fix'd full on me ? On his soul, Lord, have mercy. Sir Galahad. Ozana, shall I pray for thee ? Her cheek is laid to thine : No long time hence, also I see Thy wasted fingers twine THE CHAPEL IN LYONESS 217 Within the tresses of her hair That shineth gloriously, 90 Thinly outspread in the clear air Against the jasper sea.^ SIR PETER HARPOON'S END In an English castle in Poicton. Sir Peter Harpdon, a Gascon Jcnight in the English service, and John Curzon, his lieutenant. John Curzon. Of those three prisoners, that before you came We took down at St. John's hard by the mill, Two are good masons ; we have tools enough, And you have skill to set them working. Sir Peter. So— What are their names ? John Curzon. Why, Jacques Aquadent, And Peter Plombiere, but — Sir Peter. What colour'd hair Has Peter now ? has Jacques got bow legs ? John Curzon. Why, sir, you jest — what matters Jacques' hair, Or Peter's legs to us ? Sir Peter. ! John, John, John ! Throw all your mason's tools down the deep well, 10 Hang Peter up and Jacques ; thej'^Te no good. We shall not build, man. ^ In place of the last six lines The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, September 1856, has these two : Her hair against the jasper sea Wondrously doth shine. 218 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END John Curzon [going]. Shall I call the guard To hang them, sir 1 and yet, sir, for the tools, We'd better keep them still ; sir, fare you well. [Muttering as he goes. What have I done that he should jape at me ? And why not build ? the walls are weak enough, And we've two masons and a heap of tools. [Goes, still muttering. Sir Peter. To think a man should have a lump like that For his lieutenant ! I must call him back, Or else, as surely as St. George is dead, 20 He'll hang our friends the masons — here, John ! John 1 John Curzon. At your good service, sir. Sir Peter. Come now, and talk This weighty matter out ; there — we've no stone To mend our walls with, — neither brick nor stone. John Curzon. There is a quarry, sir, some ten miles off. Sir Peter. We are not strong enough to send ten men Ten miles to fetch us stone enough to build. In three hours' time they would be taken or slain, The cursed Frenchmen ride abroad so thick. John Curzon. But we can send some villaynes to get stone. 3° Sir Peter. Alas ! John, that we cannot bring them back, They would go off to Clisson or feanxere, SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 219 And tell them we were weak in walls and men, Then down go we ; for, look you, times are changed, And now no longer does the country shake At sound of English names ; our captains fade From off our muster-rolls. At Lusac bridge I dare say you may even yet see the hole That Chandos beat in dying ; far in Spain Pembroke is prisoner ; Phelton prisoner here ; 40 Manny lies buried in the Charterhouse ; Oliver Clisson turn'd these years agone ; The Captal died in prison ; and, over all, Edward the prince lies underneath the ground, Edward the king is dead, at Westminster The carvers smooth the curls of his long beard, Everything goes to rack — eh ! ajid we too. Now, Curzon, listen ; if they come, these French, Whom have I got to lean on here, but you ? A man can die but once, will you die then, 50 Your brave sword in your hand, thoughts in your heart Of all the deeds we have done here in France — And yet may do ? So God will have your soul. Whoever has your body, John Curzon. Why, sir, I Will fight till the last moment, until then Will do whate'er you tell me. Now I see We must e'en leave the walls ; well, well, perhaps They're stronger than I think for ; pity, though ! For some few tons of stone, if Guesclin comes. Sir Peter. Farewell, John, pray you watch the Gascons well, 60 I doubt them. John Curzon. Truly, sir, I will watch well. [Goes. Sir Peter. Farewell, good lump ! and yet, when all is said, 'Tis a good lump. Why then, if Guesclin comes ; 220 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END Some dozen stones from his petrariae, And, under shelter of his crossbows, just An hour's steady work with pickaxes. Then a great noise — some dozen swords and glaives A-playing on my basnet all at once. And little more cross purposes on earth For me. Now this is hard : a month ago, And a few minutes' talk had set things right 'Twixt me and Alice ; — if she had a doubt, As (may Heaven bless her !) I scarce think she had, 'Twas but their hammer, hammer in her ears. Of ' how Sir Peter fail'd at Lusac bridge : ' And ' how he was grown moody of late days ; And ' how Sir Lambert ' (think now !) ' his dear friend, His sweet, dear cousin, could not but confess That Peter's talk tended towards the French, Which he ' (for instance Lambert) ' was glad of, 80 Being ' (Lambert, you see) ' on the French side.' Well, If I could but have seen her on that day, Then, when they sent me off ! I like to think. Although it hurts me, makes my head twist, what, If I had seen her, what I should have said. What she, my darling, would have said and done. As thus perchance — To find her sitting there. In the window-seat, not looking well at all. Crying perhaps, and I say quietly ; ' Alice ! ' she looks up, chokes a sob, looks grave, 90 Changes from pale to red, but, ere she speaks. Straightway I kneel down there on both my knees, And say : ' O lady, have I sinn'd, your knight ? That still you ever let me walk alone In the rose garden, that you sing no songs When I am by, that ever in the dance You quietly walk away when I come near ? Now that I have you, will you go, think you ? ' SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 221 Ere she could answer I would speak again, Still kneeling there. ' What ! they have frighted you. By hanging burs, and clumsily carven puppets, loi Round my good name ; but afterwards, my love, I will say what this means ; this moment, see ! Do I kneel here, and can you doubt me ? Yea,' (For she would put her hands upon my face,) ' Yea, that is best, yea feel, love, am I changed ? ' And she would say : ' Good knight, come, kiss my lips ! ' And afterwards as I sat there would say : * Please a poor silly girl by telling me What all those things they talk of really were, no For it is true you did not help Chandos, And true, poor love ! j^ou could not come to me When I was in such peril.' I should say : ' I am like Balen, all things turn to blame — I did not come to you ? At Bergerath The constable had held us close shut up, If from the barriers I had made three steps, I should have been but slain ; at Lusac, too, We struggled in a marish half the day, And came too late at last : you know, my love, 120 How heavy men and horses are all arm'd. All that Sir Lambert said was pure, unmix'd, Quite groundless lies ; as you can think, sweet love.' She, holding tight my hand as we sat there, Started a little at Sir Lambert's name, But otherwise she listen'd scarce at all To what I said. Then with moist, weeping eyes And quivering lips, that scarcely let her speak. She said, ' I love you.' Other words were few. The remnant of that hour ; her hand smooth'd down My foolish head ; she kiss'd me all about 131 My face, and through the tangles of my beard Her little fingers crept. 222 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END ! God, my Alice, Not this good way : my lord but sent and said That Lambert's sayings were taken at their worth, Therefore that day I was to start, and keep This hold against the French ; and I am here, — [Looks out of the tvindoiv. A sprawling lonely gard with rotten walls, And no one to bring aid if Guesclin comes, Or any other. There's a pennon now ! 140 At last. But not the constable's, whose arms, I wonder, does it bear ? Three golden rings On a red ground ; my cousin's by the rood ! Well, I should like to kill him, certainly. But to be kill'd by him — [A trumpet sounds. That's for a herald ; I doubt this does not mean assaulting yet. Enter John Curzon. What says the herald of our cousin, sir ? John Curzon. So please you, sir, concerning your estate, He has good will to talk with you. Sir Peter. Outside, I'll talk with him, close by the gate St. Ives. 150 Is he unarm'd ? John Curzon. Yea, sir, in a long gown. Sir Peter. Then bid them bring me hither my furr'd gown With the long sleeves, and under it I'll wear. By Lambert's leave, a secret coat of mail ; And will you lend me, John, your little axe ? SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 223 I mean the one with Paul wrought on the blade ? And I \vi\\ carry it inside mj^ sleeve, Good to be ready always — you, John, go And bid them set up many suits of arms. Bows, archgays, lances, in the base-court, and i6o Yourself, from the south postern setting out. With twenty men, be ready to break through Their unguarded rear when I cry out ' St. George ! * John Curzon. How, sir ! will you attack him unawares, And slay him unarm'd ? Sir Peter. Trust me, John, I know The reason why he comes here with sleeved gown, Fit to hide axes up. So, let us go. [They go. Outside the castle by the great gate : Sir Lambert and Sir Peter seated ; guards attending each, the rest of Sir Lambert's men drawn up about a furlong off. Sir Peter. And if I choose to take the losing side Still, does it hurt you ? Sir Lambert. O ! no hurt to me ; I see you sneering, ' Why take trouble then, 170 Seeing you love me not ? ' look j^ou, our house (Which, taken altogether, I love much) Had better be upon- the right side now. If, once for all, it wishes to bear rule As such a house should : cousin, you're too wise To feed your hope up fat, that this fair France Will ever draw two ways again ; this side The French, wrong-headed, all a-jar With envious longings ; and the other side The order'd English, orderly led on 180 224 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END By those two Edwards throvigh all wrong and right. And muddling right and wrong to a thick broth With that long stick, their strength. This is all changed, The true French win, on either side you have Cool-headed men, good at a tilting match, And good at setting battles in array, And good at squeezing taxes at due time ; Therefore by nature we French being here Upon our own big land — [Sir Petee laughs aloud. Well Peter! well! What makes you laugh ? Sir Peter. Hearing you sweat to prove All this I know so well ; but you have read 191 The siege of Troy ? Sir Lambert. ! yea, I know it well. Sir Peter. There ! they were wrong, as wrong as men could be ; For, as I think, they found it such delight To see fair Helen going through their town : Yea, any little common thing she did (As stooping to pick a flower) seem'd so strange. So new in its great beauty, that they said : ' Here we will keep her living in this town, Till all burns up together.' And so, fought, 200 In a mad whirl of knowing they were wrong ; Yea, they fought well, and ever, like a man That hangs legs off the ground by both his hands, Over some great height, did they struggle sore. Quite sure to slip at last ; wherefore, take note How almost all men, reading that sad siege, Hold for the Trojans ; as I did at least. Thought Hector the best knight a long way : Now Why should I not do this thing that I think. SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 225 For even when I come to count the gains, 210 I have them my side : men will talk, you know, (We talk of Hector, dead so long agone,) When I am dead, of how this Peter clung To what he thought the right ; of how he died, Perchance, at last, doing some desperate deed Few men would care do now, and this is gain To me, as ease and money is to you. Moreover, too, I like the straining game Of striving well to hold up things that fall ; So one becomes great ; see you ! in good times 220 All men live well together, and you, too, Live dull and happy — happy ? not so quick. Suppose sharp thoughts begin to burn you up. Why then, but just to fight as I do now, A halter round my neck, would be great bliss. ! I am well off. [Aside. Talk, and talk, and talk, 1 know this man has come to murder me, And yet I talk still. Sir Lambert. If your side were right. You might be, though you lost ; but if I said, * You are a traitor, being, as you are, 230 Born Frenchman.' What are Edwards unto you, Or Richards ? Sir Peter. Nay, hold there, my Lambert, hold ! For fear your zeal should bring j'ou to some harm, Don't call me traitor. Sir Lambert. Furthermore, my knight. Men call you slippery on your losing side, When at Bordeaux I was ambassador, I heard them say so, and could scarce say ' Nay.' [He takes hold of something in his sleeve, and rises. MOBRIS Q 226 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END Sir Peter (rising). They lied — and you lie, not for the first time. What have you got there, fumbling up your sleeve, A stolen purse ? Sir Lambert. Nay, liar in your teeth ! 240 Dead liar too ; St Dennis and St. Lambert ! [Strikes at Sir Peter with a dagger. Sir Peter (striking him flattings with his axe). How thief ! thief ! thief ! so there, fair thief, so there, St. George Guienne ! glaives for the castellan ! You French, you are but dead, unless you lay Your spears upon the earth. St. George Guienne ! Well done, John Curzon, how he has them now. In the Castle. John Curzon. What shall we do with all these prisoners, sir ? Sir Peter Why put them all to ransom, those that can Pay anything, but not too light though, John, Seeing we have them on the hip : for those 250 That have no money, that being certified, Why turn them out of doors before they spy ; But bring Sir Lambert guarded unto me. John Curzon. I will, fair sir. [He goes, Sir Peter. I do not wish to kill him. Although I think I ought ; he shall go mark'd. By all the saints, though ! SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 227 Enter Lambert {gtmrded). Now, Sir Lambert, now ! What sort of death do you expect to get, Being taken this way ? Sir Lambert, Cousin ! cousin ! think ! I am your own blood ; may God pardon me ! I am not fit to die ; if you knew all, 260 All I have done since I was young and good. O ! you would give me yet another chance, As God would, that I might wash all clear out, By serving you and Him. Let me go now ! And I will pay you down more golden crowns Of ransom than the king would ! Sir Peter. Well, stand back, And do not touch me ! No, you shall not die. Nor yet pay ransom. You, John Curzon, cause Some carpenters to build a scaffold, high, Outside the gate ; when it is built, sound out 270 To all good folks, ' Come, see a traitor punish'd ! ' Take me my knight, and set him up thereon. And let the hangman shave his head quite clean. And cut his ears off close up to the head ; And cause the minstrels all the while to play Soft music, and good singing ; for this day Is my high day of triumph ; is it not, Sir Lambert ? Sir Lambert. Ah ! on your own blood, Own name, you heap this foul disgrace ? you dare, With hands and fame thus sullied, to go back 280 And take the Lady Alice — Sir Peter. Say her name Again, and you are dead, slain here by me. o 2 228 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END Why should I talk with you, I'm master here, And do not want your schooling ; is it not My mercy that you are not dangling dead There in the gateway with a broken neck ? Sir Lambert. Such mercy ! why not kill me then outright ? To die is nothing ; but to live that all May point their fingers ! yea, I'd rather die. John Curzon. Why, will it make you any uglier man 290 To lose your ears ? they're much too big for you, You ugly Judas ! Sir Peter. Hold, John ! [To Lambert. That 's your choice, To die, mind ! Then you shall die — Lambert mine, I thank you now for choosing this so well, It saves me much perplexity and doubt ; Perchance an ill deed too, for half I count This sparing traitors is an ill deed. Well, Lambert, die bravely, and we're almost friends. Sir Lambert, grovelling. God ! this is a fiend and not a man ; Will some one save me from him ? help, help, help ! 1 will not die. Sir Peter. Why, what is this I see ? 301 A man who is a knight, and bandied words So well just now with me, is lying down. Gone mad for fear like this ! So, so, you thought You knew the worst, and might say what you pleased. I should have guess'd this from a man like you. Eh ! righteous Job would give up skin for skin. Yea, all a man can have for simple life. SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 229 And we talk fine, yea, even a hound like this, Who needs must know that when he dies, deep hell Will hold him fast for ever — so fine we talk, 311 ' Would rather die ' — all that. Now sir, get up ! And choose again : shall it be head sans ears, Or trunk sans head ? John Curzon, pull him up ! What, life then ? go and build the scaffold, John. Lambert, I hope that never on this earth We meet again ; that you'll turn out a monk. And mend the life I give you, so, farewell, I'm sorry you're a rascal. John, despatch. In the French camp before the Castle. Sir Peter prisoner, Guesclin, Clisson, Sir Lambert. Sir Peter. So now is come the ending of my life ; 320 If I could clear this sickening lump away That sticks in my dry throat, and say a word, Guesclin might listen. Guesclin. Tell me, fair sir knight, If you have been clean liver before God, And then you need not fear much ; as for me, I cannot say I hate you, yet my oath, And cousin Lambert's ears here clench the thing. Sir Peter. I knew you could not hate me, therefore I Am' bold to pray for life ; 'twill harm your cause To hang knights of good name, harm here in France I have small doubt, at any rate hereafter 33 ' Men will remember you another way Than I should care to be remember'd, ah ! Although hot lead runs through me for my blood, All this falls cold as though I said, ' Sweet lords, Give back my falcon ! ' 230 SIR PETER HARPDONS END See how young I am, Do you care altogether more for France, Say rather one French faction, than for all The state of Christendom ? a gallant knight, As (yea, by God !) I have been, is more worth 340 Than many castles ; will you bring this death, For a mere act of justice, on my head ? Think how it ends all, death ! all other things Can somehow be retrieved, yea, send me forth Naked and maimed, rather than slay me here ; Then somehow will I get me other clothes. And somehow will I get me some poor horse, And, somehow clad in poor old rusty arms. Will ride and smite among the serried glaives, Fear not death so ; for I can tilt right well, 350 Let me not say ' I could ' ; I know all tricks. That sway the sharp sword cunningly ; ah you, You, my Lord Clisson, in the other days Have seen me learning these, yea, call to mind, • How in the trodden corn by Chartres town. When you were nearly swooning from the back Of your black horse, those three blades slid at once From off my sword's edge ; pray for me, my lord ! Clisson. Nay, this is pitiful, to see him die. My Lord the Consta^ble, I pray you note 360 That you are losing some few thousand crowns By slaying this man ; also think ; his lands Along the Garonne river lie for leagues. And are right rich, a many mills he has, Three abbeys of grey monks do hold of him, Though wishmg well for Clement, as we do ; I know the next heir, his old uncle, well, Who does not care two deniers for the knight As things go now, but slay him, and then see. How he will bristle up like any perch, 370 With curves of spears. What ! do not doubt, my lord. You'll get the money, this man saved mj^ life. SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 231 And I will buy him for two thousand crowns ; Well, five then— eh ! what ! ' No ' again ? well then, Ten thousand crowns ? GUESCLIN. My sweet lord, much I grieve I cannot please you, yea, good sooth, I grieve This knight must die, as verily he must ; For I have sworn it, so men take him out, Use him not roughly. Sir Lambert, coming forward. Music, do you know, Music will suit you well, I think, because 380 You look so mild, like Laurence being grilled ; Or perhaps music soft and slow, because This is high day of triumph unto me, Is it not, Peter ? You are frighten'd, though, Eh ! you are pale, because this hurts you much, Whose life was pleasant to you, not like mine, You ruin'd wretch ! Men mock me in the streets. Only in whispers loud, because I am Friend of the Constable ; will this please j^ou. Unhappy Peter ? once a-going home, 39° Without my servants, and a little drunk. At midnight through the lone dim lamp-lit streets, A whore came up and spat into my ej^es, (Rather to blind me than to make me see), But she was very drunk, and tottering back, Even in the middle of her laughter, fell And cut her head against the pointed stones. While I lean'd on my staff, and look'd at her, And cried, being drunk. Girls would not spit at you, You are so handsome, I think verily 400 Most ladies would be glad to kiss 3'^our eyes. And yet you will be hung like a cur dog Five minutes hence, and grow black in the face, And curl your toes up. Therefore I am glad. 232 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END Guess why I stand and talk this nonsense now, With Guesclin getting ready to play chess, And Clisson doing something with his sword, I can't see what, talking to Guesclin though, I don't know what about, perhaps of you. But, cousin Peter, while I stroke your beard, 410 Let me say this, I'd like to tell you now That your life hung upon a game of chess, That if, say, my squire Robert here should beat. Why you should live, but hang if I beat him ; Then guess, clever Peter, what I should do then , Well, give it up ? why, Peter, I should let My squire Robert beat me, then you would think That you were safe, you know ; Eh ? not at all. But I should keep you three days in some hold, Giving you salt to eat, which would be kind, 420 Considering the tax there is on salt ; And afterwards should let you go, perhaps ? No I should not, but I should hang you, sir, With a red rope in lieu of mere grey rope. But I forgot, you have not told me yet If you can guess why I talk nonsense thus. Instead of drinking wine while you are hang'd ? You are not quick at guessing, give it up. This is the reason ; here I hold your hand, And watch you growing paler, see you writhe, 43° And this, my Peter, is a joy so dear, I cannot by all striving tell you how I love it, nor I think, good man, would you Quite understand my great delight therein ; You, when you had me underneath you once. Spat as it were, and said, ' Go take him out,' (That they might do that thing to me whereat, E'en now this long time off I could well shriek,) And then you tried forget I ever lived, And sunk your hating into other things ; 44° While I — St. Dennis ! though, I think you'll faint, Your lips are grey so ; yes, you will, unless You let it out and weep like a hurt child ; SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 233 Hurrah ! you do now. Do not go just yet, For I am Alice, am right like her now ; Will you not kiss me on the lips, my love ? — Clisson. You filthy beast, stand back and let him go. Or by God's eyes I'll choke you. [Kneeling to Sir Peter. Fair sir knight, I kneel upon my knees and pray to you That you would pardon me for this your death ; 45° God knows how much I wish you still alive. Also how heartily I strove to save Your life at this ibime ; yea, he knows quite well, (I swear it, so forgive me !) how I would. If it were possible, give up my life Upon this grass for yours ; fair knight, although. He knowing all things knows this thing too, well, Yet when you see his face some short time hence Tell him I tried to save you. Sir Peter. O ! my lord, I cannot say this is as good as life, 460 But yet it makes me feel far happier now. And if at all, after a thousand years, I see God's face, I will speak loud and bold. And tell Him you were kind, and like Himself ; Sir, may God bless you ! Did you note how I Fell weeping just now ? pray you, do not think That Lambert's taunts did this, I hardl}^ heard The base things that he said, being deep in thought Of all things that have happen'd since I was A little child ; and so at last I thought 470 Of my true lady : truly, sir, it seem'd No longer gone than yesterday, that this Was the sole reason God let me be born Twenty five years ago, that I might love Her, my sweet lady, and be loved bj- her ; 234 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END This seem'd so yesterday, to-day death comes, And is so bitter strong, I cannot see Why I was born. But as a last request, I pray you, kind Clisson, send some man. Some good man, mind you, to say how I died, 480 And take my last love to her : fare-you-well. And may God keep you ; I must go now, lest I grow too sick with thinking on these things ; Likewise my feet are wearied of the earth. From whence I shall be lifted up right soon. [As he goes. Ah me ! shamed too, I wept at fear of death ; And yet not so, I only wept because There was no beautiful lady to kiss me Before I died, and sweetly wish good speed From her dear lips. for some lady, though 490 I saw her ne'er before ; Alice, my love, I do not ask for ; Clisson was right kind, If he had been a woman, I should die Without this sickness : but I am all wrong, So wrong and hopelessly afraid to die. There, I will go. My God ! how sick I am, If only she could come and kiss me now. The Hotel de la Barde, Bordeaux. The Lady Alice de la Barde looking out of a window into the street. No news yet ! surely, still he holds his own ; That garde stands well ; I mind me passing it Some months ago ; God grant the walls are strong ! I heard some knights say something yestereve, 501 I tried hard to forget : words far apart Struck on my heart ; something like this ; one said, ' What eh ! a Gascon with an English name, Harpdon ? ' then nought, but afterwards, ' Poictou.' As one who answers to a question ask'd ; Then carelessly regretful came, ' No, no.' Whereto in answer loud and eagerly, SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 235 One said, ' Impossible ! Christ, what foul plaj^ ! ' And went off angrily ; and while thenceforth 51° I hurried gaspingly afraid, I heard, ' Guesclin ; ' ' Five thousand men-at-arms ; ' ' Clisson.' My heart misgives me it is all in vain I send these succours ; and in good time there ! Their trumpet sounds, ah ! here they are ; good knights, God up in Heaven keep you. If they come And find him prisoner — for I can't believe Guesclin will slay him, even though they storm — (The last horse turns the corner.) God in Heaven ! What have I got to thinking of at last ! 520 That thief I will not name is with Guesclin, Who loves him for his lands. My love ! my love ! O, if I lose you after all the past, What shall "l do ? I cannot bear the noise And light street out there, with this thought alive, Like any curling snake within my brain ; Let me just hide my head within these soft Deep cushions, there to try and think it out. [Lying in the ivindoiv-seat. I cannot hear much noise now, and I think That I shall go to sleep : it all sounds dim 53° And faint, and I shall soon forget most things ; Yea, almost that I am alive and here ; It goes slow, comes slow, like a big mill-wheel On some broad stream, with long green weeds a -sway, And soft and slow it rises and it falls. Still going onward. Lying so, one kiss, And I should be in Avalon asleep. Among the poppies, and the yellow flowers ; And they should brush my cheek, my hair being spread Far out among the stems ; soft mice and small 540 Eating and creeping all about my feet. Red shod and tired ; and the flies should come Creeping o'er my broad eyelids unafraid ; 236 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END And there should be a noise of water going, Clear blue, fresh water breaking on the slates, Likewise the flies should creep — God's eyes ! God help, A irumpet ? I will run fast, leap adown The slippery sea-stairs, where the crabs fight. Ah! I was half dreaming, but the trumpet 's true, He stops here at our house. The Clisson arms ? 55° Ah, now for news. But I must hold my heart, And be quite gentle till he is gone out ; And afterwards, — but he is still alive, He must be still alive. Enter a Squire o/Clisson's. Good day, fair sir, I give you welcome, knowing whence you come. Squire. My Lady Alice de la Barde, I come From Oliver Clisson, knight and mighty lord. Bringing you tidings : I make bold to hope You will not count me villain, even if They wring your heart ; nor hold me still in hate. 560 For I am but a mouthpiece after all, A mouthpiece, too, of one who wishes well To you and your's. Alice. Can you talk faster, sir, Get over all this quicker ? fix your eyes On mine, I pray you, and whate'er you see, Still go on talking fast, unless I fall. Or bid you stop. Squire. I pray your pardon then, And, looking in your eyes, fair lady, say I am unhappy that your knight is dead. Take heart, and listen ! let me tell you all. 570 We were five thousand goodly men-at-arms. SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 237 And scant five hundred had he in that hold ; His rotten sand-stone walls were wet with rain, And fell in lumps wherever a stone hit ; Yet for three days about the barrier there The deadly glaives were gather'd, laid across, And push'd and puU'd ; the fourth our engines came ; But still amid the crash of falling walls. And roar of lombards, rattle of hard bolts, The steady bow-strings flash'd, and still stream'd out St. George's banner, and the seven swords, 581 And still they cried, ' St. George Guienne,' until Their walls were flat as Jericho's of old. And our rush came, and cut them from the keep. Alice. Stop, sir, and tell me if you slew him then, And where he died, if you can I'eally mean That Peter Harpdon, the good knight, is dead ? Squire. Fair lady, in the base-court Alice. What base-court ? What do you talk of ? Nay, go on, go on ; 'Twas only something gone within my head : 590 Do you not know, one turns one's head round quick, And something cracks there with sore pain ? go on. And still look at my eyes. Squire. Almost alone. There in the base-court fought he with his sword, Using his left hand much, more than the wont Of most knights now-a-days ; our men gave back, For wheresoever he hit a downright blow, Some one fell bleeding, for no plate could hold Against the sway of bod}^ and great arm ; Till he grew tired, and some man (no ! not I, 600 I swear not I, fair lady, as I live !) 238 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END Thrust at him with a glaive between the knees, And threw him ; down he fell, sword undermost ; Many fell on hira, crying out their cries, Tore his sword from him, tore his helm off, and — Alice. Yea, slew him ; I am much too young to live, Fair God, so let me die. You have done well. Done all your message gently, pray you go, Our knights will make you cheer ; moreover, take This bag of franks for your expenses. [The Squire kneels. But 6io You do not go ; still looking at my face, You kneel ! what, squire, do you mock me then ? You need not tell me who has set you on, But tell me only, 'tis a made-up tale. You are some lover may-be, or his friend ; Sir, if you loved me once, or your friend loved, Think, is it not enough that I kneel down And kiss your feet ? your jest will be right good If you give in now, carry it too far. And 'twill be cruel ; not yet ? but you weep 620 Almost, as though you loved me ; love me then, And go to Heaven by telling all your sport. And I will kiss you, then with all my heart, Upon the mouth ; ! what can I do then To move you ? Squire. Lady fair, forgive me still ! You know I am so sorry, but my tale Is not yet finishxl : So they bound his hands. And brought him tall and pale to Guesclin's tent, Who, seeing him, leant his head upon his hand. And ponder 'd some while, afterwards, looking up — 630 Fair dame, what shall I say ? SIR, PETER HARPDON'S END 239 Alice. Yea, I know now, Good squire, you may go now with my thanks. Squire. Yet, lady, for your own sake I say this, Yea, for my own sake, too, and Chsson's sake. When Guesclin told him he must be hanged soon. Within a while he lifted up his head And spoke for his own life ; not crouching, though. As abjectly afraid to die, nor yet Sullenly brave as many a thief will die ; Nor yet as one that plays at japes with God : 640 Few words he spoke ; not so much what he said Moved us, I think, as, saying it, there played Strange tenderness from that big soldier there About his pleading ; eagerness to live Because folk loved him, and he loved them back, And many gallant plans unfinish'd now For ever. Clisson's heart, which may God bless ! Was moved to pray for him, but all in vain ; Wherefore I bring this message : That he waits, Still loving you, within the little church 650 Whose windows, with the one eye of the light Over the altar, every night behold The great dim broken walls he strove to keep ! There my Lord Clisson did his burial well. Now, lady, I will go ; God give you rest ! Alice. Thank Clisson from me, squire, and farewell ! And now to keep myself from going mad. Christ ! I have been a many times to church, And, ever since my mother taught me prayers, Have used them daily, but to-day I wish 660 To pray another way ; come face to face, O Christ, that I may clasp your knees and pray, 240 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END I know not what, at any rate come now From one of many places where you are ; Either in Heaven amid thick angel wings, Or sitting on the altar strange with gems, Or high up in the dustiness of the apse ; Let us go, You and I, a long way off, To the little damp, dark, Poitevin church ; While you sit on the coffin in the dark, 670 Will I lie down, my face on the bare stone Between your feet, and chatter anything I have heard long ago, what matters it So I may keep you there, your solemn face And long hair even-flowing on each side. Until you love me well enough to speak, And give me comfort ; yea, till o'er your chin, And cloven red beard the great tears roll dowTi In pity for my misery, and I die, Kissed over by you. Eh Guesclin ! if I were 680 Like Countess Mountfort now, that kiss'd the knight. Across the salt sea come to fight for her ; Ah ! just to go about with many knights, Wherever you went, and somehow on one day, In a thick wood to catch you off your guard, Let you find, you and your some fifty friends, Nothing but arrows wheresoe'er you turn'd, Yea, and red crosses, great spears over them ; And so, between a lane of my true men, To walk up pale and stern and tall, and with 690 My arms on my surcoat, and his therewith. And then to make you kneel, knight Guesclin ; And then — alas ! alas ! when all is said. What could I do but let you go again, Being pitiful woman ? I get no revenge. Whatever happens ; and I get no comfort, I am but weak, and cannot move my feet, But as men bid me. Strange I do not die. Suppose this had not happen'd after all ; I will lean out again and watch for news. 700 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END 241 I wonder how long I can still feel thus, As though I watch'd for news, feel as I did Just half-an-hour ago, before this news. How all the street is humming, some men sing, And some men talk ; some look up at the house, Then lay their heads together and look grave ; Their laughter pains me sorely in the heart, Their thoughtful talking makes my head turn round, Yea, some men sing, what is it then they sing ? Eh Launcelot, and love and fate and death ; 710 They ought to sing of him who was as wight As Launcelot or Wade, and yet aval I'd Just nothing, but to fail and fail and fail, And so at last to die and leave me here, Alone and wretched ; yea, perhaps they will, When many years are past, make songs of us ; God help me, though, truly I never thought That I should make a story in this way, A story that his eyes can never see. [One sings from outside.] Therefore be it believed 7.20 Whatsoever he grieved, Whan his horse was relieved, This Launcelot, Beat down on his knee. Right valiant was he God's body to see, Though he saw it not. Right valiant to move, But for his sad love The high God above 73o Stinted his praise. Yet so he teas glad TJmt his son Lord Galahad That high joyaunce had All his life-days. MORRIS R 242 SIR PETER HARPDON'S END Sing we therefore then Launcelofs praise again. For he wan crownes ten, If he wan not twelve. To his death from his birth 740 He was muckle of worth, Lay him in the cold earth, A long grave ye may delve, Omnes homines benedicifeJ This last fitte ye may see, All men pray for me, Who made this history Cunning and fairly. RAPUNZEL The Prince, being in the wood near the tower in the evening. I COULD not even think What made me weep that day When out of the council-hall The courtiers pass'd away, — ■ The Witch. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair ! Rapunzel, Is it not true that every day She climbeth up the same strange way, Her scarlet cloak spread broad and gay. Over my golden hair ? 10 The Prince. And left me there alone, To think on what they said ; *Thou art a king's own son, 'Tis fit that thou should 'st wed.' RAPUNZEL 243 The Witch. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair ! Rapunzel. When I undo the knotted mass. Fathoms below the shadows pass Over my hair along the grass. O my golden hair ! 20 The Prince. I put my armour on, Thinking on what they said ; ' Thou art a king's own son, 'Tis fit that thou should'st wed.' The Witch. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair ! Rapunzel. See on the marble parapet I lean my brow, strive to forget That fathoms below my hair grows wet With the dew, my golden hair. 30 The Prince; I rode throughout the town, Men did not bow the head, Though I was the king's own son ; * He rides to dream,' they said. The Witch. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Wind up your hair ! Rapunzel. See, on the marble parapet The faint red stains with tears are wet ; The long years pass, no help comes yet To free my golden hair. 4° R 2 244 RAPUNZEL The Prince. For leagues and leagues I rode, Till hot my armour grew, Till underneath the leaves I felt the evening dew. The Witch. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Weej) through your hair ! Rapunzel. And yet — but I am growing old, For want of love my heart is cold, Years pass, the while I loose and fold The fathoms of my hair. 50 The Prince, in the morning. I have heard tales of men, who in the night Saw paths of stars let down to earth from heaven, Who follow'd them until they reach'd the light Wherein they dwell, whose sins are all forgiven ; But who went backward when they saw the gate Of diamond, nor dared to enter in ; All their life long they were content to wait, Purging them patiently of every sin. I must have had a dream of some such thing. And now am just awaking from that dream ; 60 For even in grey dawn those strange words ring Through heart and brain, and still I see that gleam. For in my dream at sunset-time I lay Beneath these beeches, mail and helmet ofiF, Right full of joy that I had come away From court ; for I was patient of the scoff That met me always there from day to day, From any knave or coward of them all ; I was content to live that wretched way ; For truly till I left the council-hall, 70 RAPUNZEL 245 And rode forth arm'd beneath the burning sun. My gleams of happiness were faint and few, But then I saw my real life had begun, And that I should be strong quite well I knew. For I was riding out to look for love, Therefore the birds within the thickets sung. Even in hot noontide, as I pass'd, above The elms o'ersway'd with longing towards me hung. Now some few fathoms from the place where I Lay in the beech-wood, was a tower fair, 80 The marble corners faint against the sky ; And dreamily I wonder'd what lived there : Because it seem'd a dwelling for a queen. No belfry for the swinging of great bells ; No bolt or stone had ever crush'd the green Shafts, amber and rose walls, no soot that tells Of the Norse torches burning up the roofs, On the flower-carven marble could I see ; But rather on all sides I saw the proofs Of a great loneliness that sicken'd me ; 90 Making me feel a doubt that was not fear. Whether my whole life long had been a dream, And I should wake up soon in some place, where The piled -up arms of the fighting angels gleam ; Not born as yet, but going to be born, No naked baby as I was at first, But an armed knight, whom fire, hate and scorn Could turn from nothing : my heart almost burst Beneath the beeches, as I lay a-dreaming, I tried so hard to read this riddle through, 100 To catch some golden cord that I saw gleaming Like gossamer against the autumn blue. But while I ponder 'd these things, from the wood There came a black-hair'd woman, tall and bold, Who strode straight up to where the tower stood. And cried out shrilly words, whereon behold — 246 RAPUNZEL The Witch, from the tower. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair ! The Prince. Ah Christ ! it was no dream then, but there stood (She comes again) a maiden passing fair, no Against the roof, with face turn'd to the wood. Bearing within her arms waves of her yellow hair. I read my riddle when I saw her stand, Poor love ! her face quite pale against her hair, Praying to all the leagues of empty land To save her from the woe she suffer'd there. To think ! they trod upon her golden hair In the witches' sabbaths ; it was a delight For these foul things, while she, with thin feet bare. Stood on the roof upon the winter night, 120 To plait her dear hair into many plaits, And then, while God's eye look'd upon the thing, In the very likenesses of Devil's bats, Upon the ends of her long hair to swing. And now she stood above the parapet, And, spreading out her arms, let her hair flow, Beneath that veil her smooth white forehead set Upon the marble, more I do not know ; Because before my eyes a film of gold Floated, as now it floats. O unknown love, 130 Would that I could thy yellow stair behold. If still thou standest with lead roof above ! The Witch, as she passes. Is there any who will dare To climb up the yellow stair. Glorious Rapunzel's golden hair ? RAPUNZEL 247 The Prince. If it would please God make you sing again, I think that I might very sweetly die, My soul somehow reach heaven in joyous pain, My heavy body on the beech-nuts lie. Now I remember ; what a most strange year, 140 Most strange and awful, in the beechen wood I have pass'd now ; I still have a faint fear It is a kind of dream not understood. I have seen no one in this wood except The witch and her ; have heard no human tones, But when the witches' revelry has crept Between the very jointing of my bones. Ah ! I know now ; I could not go away, But needs must stop to hear her sing that song She always sings at dawning of the day, 150 I am not happy here, for I am strong. And every morning do I whet my sword. Yet Bapunzel still weeps within the tower, And still God ties me down to the green sward. Because I cannot see the gold stair floating lower. Rapunzel sings from the toiver. My mother taught me prayers To say when I had need ! I have so many cares, That I can take no heed Of many words in them ; 160 But I remember this : Christ, bring me to thy bliss. Mary, maid withouten wem, Keep me ! I am lone, I wis, Yet besides I have made this By myself : Give me a kiss, Dear God, dwelling up in heaven! Also : Send me a true knight, Lord Christ, with a steel sword, bright, 248 RAPUNZEL Broad, and trenchant ; yea, and seven 170 Spans from hilt to point, Lord / And let the handle of his sword Be gold on silver. Lord in heaven ! Such a sivord as I see gleam Sometimes, when they let me dream. Yea, besides, I have made this : Lord, give Mary a dear kiss, And let gold Michael, ivho looJc'd down, When I was there, on Rouen town From the spire, bring me that kiss 180 O71 a lily ! Lord, do this ! These prayers on the dreadful nights, When the witches plait my hair, And the fearfullest of sights On the earth and in the air. Will not let me close my eyes, I murmur often, mix'd with sighs, That my weak heart will not hold At some things that I behold. Nay, not sighs, but quiet groans, 190 That swell out the little bones Of my bosom ; till a trance God sends in middle of that dance, And I behold the countenance Of Michael, and can feel no more The bitter east wind biting sore My naked feet ; can see no more The crayfish on the leaden floor. That mock with feeler and grim claw. Yea, often in that happy trance, 200 Beside the blessed countenance Of golden Michael, on the spire Glowing all crimson in the fire Of sunset, I behold a face. Which sometime, if God give me grace, May kiss me in this very place. RAPUNZEL 249 Evening in the tower. Rapunzel It grows half way between the dark and light ; Love, we have been six hours here alone, I fear that she will come before the night. And if she finds us thus we are undone. 210 The Prince. Nay, draw a little nearer, that your breath May touch my lips, let my cheek feel your arm ; Now tell me, did you ever see a death. Or ever see a man take mortal harm ? Rapunzel. Once came two knights and fought with swords below, And while they fought I scarce could look at all, My head swam so, after a moaning low Drew my eyes down ; I saw against the wall One knight lean dead, bleeding from head and breast. Yet seem'd it like a line of poppies red 220 In the golden twilight, as he took his rest. In the dusky time he scarcely seemed dead. But the other, on his face six paces off. Lay moaning, and the old familiar name He mutter'd through the grass, seem'd like a scoff Of some lost soul remembering his past fame. His helm all dinted lay beside him there. The visor-bars were twisted towards the face. The crest, which was a lady very fair, Wrought wonderfully, was shifted from its place. The shower'd mail-rings on the speed-walk lay, 231 Perhaps my eyes were dazzled with the light That blazed in the west, yet surely on that day Some crimson thing had changed the grass from bright Pure green I love so. But the knight who died Lay there for days after the other went ; Until one day I heard a voice that cried, ' Fair knight, I see Sir Robert we were sent 250 RAPUNZEL ' To carry dead or living to the king.' So the knights came and bore him straight away On their lance truncheons, such a batter'd thing, 241 His mother had not known him on that day, But for his helm-crest, a gold lady fair Wrought wonderfully. The Prince. Ah, they were brothers then, And often rode together, doubtless where The swords were thickest, and were loyal men. Until they fell in these same evil dreams. Rapunzel. Yea, love ; but shall we not depart from hence ? The white moon groweth golden fast, and gleams Between the aspen stems ; I fear — and yet a sense Of fluttering victory comes over me, 251 That will not let me fear aright ; my heart- Feel how it beats, love, strives to get to thee, I breathe so fast that my lips needs must part ; Your breath swims round my mouth, but let us go. The Prince. I, Sebald, also, pluck from ofE the staff The crimson banner, let it lie below. Above it in the wind let grasses laugh. Now let us go, love, down the winding stair, With fingers intertwined : ay, feel my sword ! 260 I wrought it long ago, with golden hair Flowing about the hilts, because a word, Sung by a minstrel old, had set me dreaming Of a sweet bow'd-down face with yellow hair, Betwixt green leaves I used to see it gleaming, A half smile on the lips, though lines of care RAPUNZEL 251 Had sunk the cheeks, and made the great eyes hollow ; What other work in all the world had I, But through all turns of fate that face to follow ? But wars and business kept me there to die. 270 child, I should have slain my brother, too. My brother, Love, lain moaning in the grass, Had I not ridden out to look for you, When I had watch'd the gilded courtiers pass From the golden hall. But it is strange your name Is not the same the minstrel sung of yore ; You caird it Rapunzel, 'tis not the name. See, love, the stems shine through the open door. Morning in the woods. Rapunzel. Love ! me and my unknown name you have well won ; The witch's name was Rapunzel ; eh ! not so sweet ? No ! — but is this real grass, love, that I tread upon ? What call they these blue flowers that lean across my feet? The Prince. Dip down your dear face in the dewy grass, O love ! And ever let the sweet slim harebells tenderly hung, Kiss both your parted lips ; and I will hang above, And try to sing that song the dreamy harper sung. He sings. ^ 'Twixt the sunlight and the shade Ploat up memories of my maid, God, remember Guendolen ! Gold or gems she did not wear, 290 But her yellow rippled hair, Like a veil, hid Guendolen ! * This song appeared in The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, July, 1856, under the title ' Hands '. In the magazine, the eighth line preceded the seventh. 252 • RAPUNZEL 'Twixt the sunlight and the shade, My rough hands so strangely made, Folded Golden Guendolen ; Hands used to grip the sword-hilt hard, Framed her face, while on the sward Tears fell down from Guendolen. Guendolen now speaks no word, Hands fold round about the sword. 300 Now no more of Guendolen. Only 'twixt the light and shade Floating memories of my maid Make me pray for Guendolen. Guendolen. I kiss thee, new-found name ; but I will never go : Your hands need never grip the hammer'd sword again, But all my golden hair shall ever round you flow. Between the light and shade from Golden Guendolen. Afterwards, in the Palace. King Sebald I took my armour off, Put on liing's robes of gold, 310 Over her kirtle green The gold fell fold on fold. The Witch, out of hell. Guendolen ! Guendolen ! One lock of hair ! Guendolen. I am so glad, for every day He kisses me much the same way As in the tower ; under the sway Of all my golden hair. RAPUNZEL 253 King Sebald. We rode throughout the town, A gold crown on my head, 320 Through all the gold-hung streets, ' Praise God ! ' the people said. The Witch. Guendolen ! Guendolen ! Lend me your hair ! Guendolen. Verily, I seem like one Who, when day is almost done, Through a thick wood meets the sun That blazes in her hair. King Sebald. Yea, at the palace gates, ' Praise God ! ' the great knights said, 330 For Sebald the high king. And the lady's golden head.' The Witch. Woe is me ! Guendolen Sweeps back her hair. Guendolen. Nothing wretched now, no screams ; I was unhappy once in dreams. And even now a harsh voice seems To hang about my hair. The Witch. Woe ! that any man could dare To CLIMB UP the yellow STAIR, 34° Glorious Guendolen's golden hair. 254 CONCERNING GEFFRAY TESTE NOIRE And if you meet the Canon of Chimay, As going to Ortaise you well may do, Greet him from John of Castel Neuf, and say. All that I tell you, for all this is true. This Geffray Teste Noire was a Gascon thief, Who, under shadow of the English name, Pilled all such towns and countries as were lief To King Charles and St. Dennis ; thought it blame If anything escaped him ; so my lord, The Duke of Berry, sent Sir John Bonne Lance, lo And other knights, good players with the sword. To check this thief, and give the land a chance. Therefore we set our bastides round the tower That Geffray held, the strong thief ! like a king, High perch'd upon the rock of Ventadour, Hopelessly strong by Christ ! it was mid spring, When first I joined the little army there With ten good spears ; Auvergne is hot, each day We sweated armed before the barrier. Good feats of arms were done there often — eh ? 20 Your brother was slain there ? I mind me now, A right good man-at-arms, God pardon him ! I think 'twas Geffray smote him on the brow With some spiked axe, and while he totter'd, dim About the eyes, the spear of Allejme Rous Slipped through his camaille and his throat ; well, well ! Alleyne is paid now ; your name Alleyne too ? Mary ! how strange — but this tale I would tell — For spite of all our bastides, damned Blackhead Would ride abroad whene'er he chose to ride, 3° We could not stop him ; many a burgher bled Dear gold all round his girdle ; far and wide CONCERNING GEFFRAY TESTE NOIRE 255 The villaynes dwelt in utter misery 'Twixt us and thief Sir Geffray ; hauled this way By Sir Bonne Lance at one time, he gone by, Down comes this Teste Noire on another day. And therefore they dig up the stone, grind corn, Hew wood, draw water, yea, they lived, in short. As I said just now, utterly forlorn, 39 Till this our knave and blackhead was out-fought. So Bonne Lance fretted, thinking of some trap Day after day, till on a time he said ; * John of Newcastle, if we have good hap, We catch our thief in two days.' ' How ? ' I said. ' Why, Sir, to-day he rideth out again, Hoping to take well certain sumpter mules From Carcassonne, going with little train. Because, forsooth, he thinketh us mere fools ; ' But if we set an ambush in some wood. He is but dead ; so, Sir, take thirty spears 50 To Verville forest, if it seem you good.' Then felt I like the horse in Job, who hears The dancing trumpet sound, and we went forth : And my red lion on the spear-head flapped, As faster than the cool wind we rode North, Towards the wood of Verville ; thus it happed. We rode a soft space on that day while spies Got news about Sir Geffray ; the red Avine Under the road-side bush was clear ; the flies, The dragon-flies I mind me most, did shine 60 In brighter arms than ever I put on ; So — ' Geffray,' said our spies, ' would pass that way Next day at sundown : ' then he must be won ; And so we enter'd Verville wood next day. In the afternoon ; through it the highway runs, 'Twixt copses of green hazel, very thick, And underneath, with glimmering of suns. The primroses are happy ; the dews lick 256 CONCERNING GEFFRAY TESTE NOIRE The soft green moss. ' Put cloths about your arms Lest they should glitter ; surely they will go 70 In a long thin line, watchful for alarms, With all their carriages of booty, so — ' Lay down my pennon in the grass — Lord God ! What have we lying here ? will they be cold, I wonder, being so bare, above the sod. Instead of under ? This was a knight too, fold ' Lying on fold of ancient rusted mail ; No plate at all, gold rowels to the spurs, And see the quiet gleam of turquoise pale Along the ceinture ; but the long time blurs 80 ' Even the tinder of his coat to nought. Except these scraps of leather ; see how white The skull is, loose within the coif ! He fought A good fight, maybe, ere he was slain quite. ' No armour on the legs too ; strange in faith — A little skeleton for a knight though — ah ! This one is bigger, truly without scathe His enemies escaped not — ribs driven out far, — ' That must have reach'd the heart, I doubt — how now, What say you, Aldovrand — a woman ? why ? ' 90 ' Under the coif a gold wreath on the brow. Yea, see the hair not gone to powder, lie, '^ Golden, no doubt, once — yea, and very small — This for a knight ; but for a dame, my lord. These loose -hung bones seem shapely still, and tall, — Didst ever see a woman's bones, my lord ? ' Often, God help me ! I remember when I was a simple boy, fifteen years old. The Jacquerie froze up the blood of men With their fell deeds, not fit now to be told : 100 God help again ! we enter 'd Beauvais town, Slaying them fast, whereto I help'd, mere boy As I was then ; we gentles cut them down, These burners and defilers, with great joy. CONCERNING GEFFRAY TESTE NOIRE 257 Reason for that, too, in the great church there These fiends had lit a fire, that soon went out, The church at Beauvais being so great and fair — My father, who was by me, gave a shout Between a beast's howl and a woman's scream, 109 Then , panting, chuckled to me : ' John, look ! look ! Count the dames' skeletons ! ' From some bad dream Like a man just awaked, my father shook ; And I, being faint with smelling the burnt bones, And very hot with fighting down the street. And sick of such a life, fell down, with groans My head went weakly nodding to my feet. — — An arrow had gone through her tender throat, And her right wrist was broken ; then I saw The reason why she had on that war-coat. Their story came out clear without a flaw ; 120 For when he knew that they were being waylaid, He threw it over her, yea, hood and all ; Whereby he was much hack'd, while they were stay'd By those their murderers ; many an one did fall Beneath his arm, no doubt, so that he clear'd Their circle, bore his death-wound out of it ; But as they rode, some archer least afear'd Drew a strong bow, and thereby she was hit. Still as he rode he knew not she was dead. Thought her but fainted from her broken wrist, 130 He bound with his great leathern belt — she bled ? Who knows ! he bled too, neither was there miss'd The beating of her heart, his heart beat well For both of them, till here, within this wood, He died scarce sorry ; easy this to tell ; After these years the flowers forget their blood. — How could it be ? never before that day, However much a soldier I might be, Could I look on a skeleton and say I care not for it, shudder not — now see, 140 MORRIS S 258 CONCERNING GEFFRAY TESTE NOIRE Over those bones I sat and pored for hours, And thought, and dream'd, and still I scarce could see The small white bones that lay upon the flowers, But evermore I saw the lady ; she With her dear gentle walking leading in, By a chain of silver twined about her wrists. Her loving knight, mounted and arm'd to win Great honour for her, fighting in the lists. most pale face, that brings such joy and sorrow Into men's hearts — yea, too, so piercing sharp 150 That joy is, that it marcheth nigh to sorrow For ever — like an overwinded harp. Your face must hurt me always ; pray you now, Doth it not hurt you too ? seemeth some pain To hold you always, pain to hold your brow So smooth, unwrinkled ever ; yea again, Your long eyes where the lids seem like to drop. Would you not, lady, were they shut fast, feel Far merrier ? there so high they will not stop, They are most sly to glide forth and to steal 160^ Into my heart ; / Jciss their soft lids there, And in green garden scarce can stop my lips From wandering on your face, but that your hair Falls down and tangles me, back my face slips. Or say your mouth — I saw you drink red wine Once at a feast ; how slowly it sank in, As though you fear'd that some wild fate might twine Within that cup, and slay you for a sin. And when you talk your lips do arch and move In such wise that a language new I know 170 Besides their sound ; they quiver, too, with love When you are standing silent ; know this, too, 1 saw you kissing once, like a curved sword That bites with all its edge, did your lips lie, Curled gently, slowly, long time could afford For caught-up breathings ; like a dying sigh CONCERNING GEFFRAY TESTE NOIRE 259 They gather'd up their lines and went away. And still kept twitching with a sort of smile, As likely to be weeping presently, — 179 Your hands too — how I watch'd them all the while ! ' Cry out St. Peter now,' quoth Aldovrand ; I cried, ' St. Peter,' broke out from the wood With all my spears ; we met them hand to hand, And shortly slew them ; natheless, by the rood, We caught not Blackhead then, or any day ; Months after that he died at last in bed. From a wound pick'd up at a barrier-fray ; That same year's end a steel bolt in the head. And much bad living kill'd Teste Noire at last ; John Froissart knoweth he is dead by now, 190 No doubt, but knoweth not this tale just past ; Perchance then you can tell him what I show. In my new castle, down beside the Eure, There is a little chapel of squared stone. Painted inside and out ; in green nook pure There did I lay them, every wearied bone ; And over it they lay, with stone-white hands Clasped fast together, hair made bright with gold This Jaques Picard, known tlirough many lands, Wrought cunningly ; he's dead now — I am old. 200 S 2 260 A GOOD KNIGHT IN PRISON Sir Guy, being in the court of a Pagan castle. This castle where I dwell, it stands A long way off from Christian lands, A long way off my lady's hands, A long way off the aspen trees, And murmur of the lime-tree bees. But down the Valley of the Rose My lady often hawking goes, Heavy of cheer ; oft turns behind. Leaning towards the western wind. Because it bringeth to her mind lo Sad whisperings of happy times. The face of him who sings these rhymes. King Guilbert rides beside her there. Bends low and calls her very fair, And strives, by pulling down his hair. To hide from my dear lady's ken The grisly gash I gave him, when I cut him down at Camelot ; However he strives, he hides it not. That tourney will not be forgot, 20 Besides, it is King Guilbert's lot, Whatever he says she answers not. Now tell me, you that are in love. From the king's son to the wood-dove. Which is the better, he or I ? For this king means that I should die In this lone Pagan castle, where The flowers droop in the bad air On the September evening. Look, now I take mine ease and sing, 30 Counting as but a little thing The foolish spite of a bad king. A GOOD KNIGHT IN PRISON 261 For these vile things that hem me in, These Pagan beasts who live in sin, The sickly flowers pale and wan, The grim blue -bearded castellan, The stanchions half worn-out with rust, Whereto their banner vile they trust — Why, all these things I hold them just Like dragons in a missal-book, 40 Wherein, whenever we may look. We see no horror, yea, delight We have, the colours are so bright ; Likewise we note the specks of white. And the great plates of burnish 'd gold. Just so this Pagan castle old. And everything I can see there, Sick-pining in the marshland air, I note ; I will go over now, Like one who paints with knitted brow, 50 The flowers and all things one by one. From the snail on the wall to the setting sun. Four great walls, and a little one That leads down to the barbican. Which walls with many spears they man, When news conies to the castellan Of Launcelot being in the land. And as I sit here, close at hand Four spikes of sad sick sunflowers stand. The castellan with a long wand 60 Cuts down their leaves as he goes by, Ponderingly, with screw'd-up eye, And fingers twisted in his beard — Nay, was it a knight's shout I heard ? I have a hope makes me afeard : It cannot be, but if some dream Just for a minute made me deem I saw among the flowers there My lady's face with long red hair. 262 A GOOD KNIGHT IN PRISON Pale, ivory-colour'd dear face come, 70 As I was wont to see her some Fading September afternoon, And kiss me, saying nothing, soon To leave me by myself again ; Could I get this by longing : vain ! The castellan is gone : I see On one broad yellow flower a bee Drunk with much honey — Christ ! again, Some distant knight's voice brings me pain I thought I had forgot to feel, 80 I never heard the blissful steel These ten years past ; year after year, Through all my hopeless sojourn here, No Christian pennon has been near ; Laus Deo ! the dragging wind draws on Over the marshes, battle won. Knights' shouts, and axes hammering, Yea, quicker now the dint and ring Of flying hoofs ; ah ! castellan, When they come back count man for man, 90 Say whom you miss. The Pagans, from the battlements. Mahound to aid ! Why flee ye so like men dismay'd ? The Pagans, from without. Nay, haste ! for here is Launcelot, Who follows quick upon us, hot And shouting with his men-at-arms. "to Sir Guy. Also the Pagans raise alarms, And ring the bells for fear ; at last My prison walls will be well past. A GOOD KNIGHT IN PRISON 263 Sir Launcelot, from outside. Ho ! in the name of the Trinity, Let down the drawbridge quick to me, loo And open doors, that I may see Guy the good knight. The Pagans, from the battlements. Nay, Launcelot, With mere big words ye win us not. Sir Launcelot. Bid Miles bring up la perriere, And archers clear the vile walls there, Bring back the notches to the ear. Shoot well together ! God to aid ! These miscreants will be well paid. Hurrah ! all goes together ; Miles Is good to win my lady's smiles no For his good shooting — Launcelot ! On knights a-pace ! this game is hot 1 Sir Guy sayeth afterwards I said, I go to meet her now, And saying so, I felt a blow From some clench'd hand across my brow. And fell down on the sunflowers Just as a hammering smote my ears. After which this I felt in sooth ; My bare hands throttling without ruth The hairy-throated castellan ; "o Then a grim fight with those that ran To slay me, while I shouted, ' God For the Lady Mary ! ' deep I trod That evening in my own red blood ; Nevertheless so stiff I stood, That when the knights burst the old wood Of the castle-doors, I was not dead. I kiss the Lady Mary's head. Her lips, and her hair golden red. Because to-day we have been wed. 130 264 OLD LOVE * You must be very old, Sir Giles/ I said ; he said : ' Yea, very old : ' Whereat the mournfullest of smiles Creased his dry skin with many a fold. ' They hammer'd out my basnet point Into a round salade,' he said, ' The basnet being quite out of joint, Natheless the salade rasps my head.' He gazed at the great fire awhile : ' And you are getting old, Sir John ; ' lo (He said this with that cunning smile That was most sad ;) 'we both wear on, ' Knights come to court and look at me, With eyebrows up, except my lord. And my dear lady, none I see That know the ways of my old sword.' (My lady ! at that word no pang Stopp'd all my blood.) ' But tell me, John, Is it quite true that pagans hang So thick about the east, that on 20 * The eastern sea no Venice flag Can fly unpaid for ? ' ' True,' I said, ' And in such way the miscreants drag Christ's cross upon the ground, I dread ' That Constantine must fall this year.' Within my heart ; ' These things are small ; This is not small, that things outwear I thought were made for ever, yea, all, ' All things go soon or late ; ' I said — * I saw the duke in court next day ; 30 Just as before, his grand great head Above his gold robes dreaming lay. OLD LOVE 265 Only his face was paler ; there I saw his duchess sit by him ; And she — she was changed more ; her hair Before my eyes that used to swim, And make me dizzy with great bliss Once, when I used to watch her sit — Her hair is bright still, yet it is As though some dust were thrown on it. 40 Her eyes are shallower, as though Some grey glass were behind ; her brow And cheeks the straining bones show through, Are not so good for kissing now. Her lips are drier now she is A great duke's wife these many years, They will not shudder with a kiss As once they did, being moist with tears. Also her hands have lost that way Of clinging that they used to have ; 50 They look'd quite easy, as they lay Upon the silken cushions brave With broidery of the apples green My Lord Duke bears upon his shield. Her face, alas ! that I have seen Look fresher than an April field. This is all gone now ; gone also Her tender walking ; when she walks She is most queenly I well know, And she is fair still : — as the stalks 60 Of faded summer-lilies are, So is she grown now unto me This spring-time, when the flowers star Tne meadows, birds sing wonderfully. I warrant once she used to cling About his neck, and kiss'd him so, And then his coming step would ring Joy-bells for her, — some time ago. 266 OLD LOVE Ah ! sometimes like an idle dream That hinders true life overmuch, 70 Sometimes like a lost heaven, these seem. — This love is not so hard to smutch. THE GILLIFLOWER OF GOLD A GOLDEN gilliflower to-day I wore upon my helm alway, And won the prize of this tourney. Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune girqflee. However well Sir Giles might sit, His sun was weak to wither it. Lord Miles's blood was dew on it : Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune girqflee. Although my spear in splinters flew, From John's steel-coat my eye was true ; 10 I wheel'd about, and cried for you, Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune giroflee. Yea, do not doubt my heart was good, Though my sword flew like rotten wood, To shout, although I scarcely stood. Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune giroflee. My hand was steady too, to take My axe from round my neck, and break John's steel-coat up for my love's sake. Hah ! Jmh ! la belle jaune giroflee. 20 When I stood in my tent again, x^rming afresh, I felt a pain Take hold of me, I was so fain — Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune giroflee. To hear : ' Honneur aux fils des preux ! ' Right in my ears again, and shew The gilliflower blossom'd new. Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune giroflee. THE GILLIFLOWER OF GOLD 267 The Sieur Guillaume against me came, His tabard bore three points of flame 30 From a red heart : with little blame — Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune girqflee. Our tough spears crackled up like straw ; He was the first to turn and draw His sword, that had nor speck nor flaw, — Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune giroflee. But I felt weaker than a maid. And my brain, dizzied and afraid, Within my helm a fierce tune play'd, — Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune giroflee. 40 Until I thought of your dear head, Bow'd to the gilliflower bed. The yellow flowers stain 'd with red ; — Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune giroflee. Crash ! how the swords met, ' giroflee ! ' The fierce tune in my helm would play, * La belle ! la belle ! jaune giroflee ! ' Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune giroflee. Once more the great swords met again, ' La belle ! la belle ! ' but who fell then ? 50 Le Sieur Guillaume, who struck down ten ; — Hah ! hah ! la belle jaune giroflee. And as with mazed and unarm 'd face, Toward my own crown and the Queen's place, They led me at a gentle pace — Hah ! liah ! la belle jaune giroflee. I almost saw your quiet head Bow'd o'er the gilliflower bed, The yellow flowers stain 'd with red — Hah ! Imh ! la belle jaune giroflee. 60 268 SHAMEFUL DEATH There were four of us about that bed ; The mass -priest knelt at the side, I and his mother stood at the head, Over his feet lay the bride ; We were quite sure that he was dead, Though his eyes were open wide. He did not die in the night, He did not die in the day. But in the morning twilight His spirit pass'd away, lo When neither sun nor moon was bright, And the trees were merely grey. He was not slain with the sword, Kjiight's axe, or the knightly spear. Yet spoke he never a word After he came in here ; I cut away the cord From the neck of my brother dear. He did not strike one blow, For the recreants came behind, 20 In a place where the hornbeams grow, A path right hard to find, For the hornbeam boughs swing so, That the twilight makes it blind. They lighted a great torch then, When his arms were pinion 'd fast, Sir John the knight of the Fen, Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast, With knights threescore and ten. Hung brave Lord Hugh at last. 30 I am threescore and ten, And my hair is all turn'd grey. But I met Sir John of the Fen Long ago on a summer day, SHAMEFUL DEATH 269 And am glad to think of the moment when I took his life away. I am threescore and ten, And my strength is mostly pass'd. But long ago I and my men, When the sky was overcast, 40 And the smoke roll'd over the reeds of the fen, Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast. And now, knights all of you, I pray you pray for Sir Hugh, A good knight and a true, And for Alice, his wife, pray too. THE EVE OF CRECY Gold on her head, and gold on her feet. And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet. And a golden girdle round my sweet ; — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. Margaret's maids are fair to see. Freshly dress 'd and pleasantly ; Margaret's hair falls down to her knee ; — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. If I were rich I would kiss her feet, I would kiss the place where the gold hems meet, 10 And the golden girdle round my sweet — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. Ah me ! I have never touch 'd her hand ; When the arriere-ban goes through the land. Six basnets under my pennon stand ; — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. 270 THE EVE OF CRECY And many an one grins under his hood : ' Sir Lambert de Bois, with all his men good, Has neither food nor firewood ; ' — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. 20 If I were rich I would kiss her feet, And the golden girdle of my sweet, And thereabouts where the gold hems meet ; — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. Yet even now it is good to think, While my few poor varlets grumble and drink In my desolate hall, where the fires sink, — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. Of Margaret sitting glorious there. In glory of gold and glory of hair, 30 And glory of glorious face most fair ; — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. Likewise to-night I make good cheer. Because this battle draweth near : For what have I to lose or fear ? — • Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. For, look you, my horse is good to prance A right fair measure in this war-dance, Before the eyes of Philip of France ; — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. 40 And sometime it may hap, perdie, While my new towers stand up three and three. And my hall gets painted fair to see — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite — That folks may say : ' Times change, by the rood, For Lambert, banneret of the wood. Has heaps of food and firewood ; — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. ' And wonderful eyes, too, under the hood Of a damsel of right noble blood : ' 50 St. Ives, for Lambert of the wood ! — Ah ! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite. 271 THE JUDGEMENT OF GOD ' Swerve to the left, son Roger,' he said, ' When you catch his eyes through the helmet-slit, Swerve to the left, then out at his head. And the Lord God give you joy of it ! ' The blue owls on my father's hood Were a little dimm'd as I turn'd away ; This giving up of blood for blood Will finish here somehow to day. So — when I walk'd out from the tent, Their howling almost blinded me ; lo Yet for all that I was not bent By any shame. Hard by, the sea Made a noise like the aspens where We did that wrong, but now the place Is very pleasant, and the air Blows cool on any passer's face. And all the wrong is gather 'd now Into the circle of these lists — Yea, howl out, butchers ! tell me how His hands were cut off at the wrists ; 20 And how Lord Roger bore his face A league above his spear-point, high Above the owls, to that strong place Among the waters — yea, j^ea, cry : * What a brave champion we have got ! Sir Oliver, the flower of all The Hainault knights.' The day being hot. He sat beneath a broad white pall, White linen over all his steel ; What a good knight he look'd ! his sword 30 Laid thwart his knees ; he liked to feel Its steadfast edge clear as his word. 272 THE JUDGEMENT OF GOD And he look'd solemn ; how his love Smiled whitely on him, sick with fear ! How all the ladies up above Twisted their pretty hands ! so near The fighting was — Ellayhe ! Ellajnie ! They cannot love like you can, who Would burn your hands off, if that pain Could win a kiss — am I not true 4° To you for ever ? therefore I Do not fear death or anything ; If I should limp home wounded, why, While I lay sick you would but sing, And soothe me into quiet sleep. If they spat on the recreaunt knight, Threw stones at him, and cursed him deep, Why then — what then ; your hand would light So gently on his drawn-up face. And you would kiss him, and in soft 50 Cool scented clothes would lap him, pace The quiet room and weep oft, — oft Would turn and smile, and brush his cheek With your sweet chin and mouth ; and in The order'd garden you would seek The biggest roses — any sin. And these say : ' No more now my knight. Or God's knight any longer ' — you, Being than they so much more white, So much more pure and good and true, 60 Will cling to me for ever — there. Is not that wrong turn'd right at last Through all these years, and I wash'd clean ? Say, yea, Ellayne ; the time is past. Since on that Christmas-day last year Up to your feet the fire crept. And the smoke through the brown leaves sere Blinded your dear eyes that you wept ; THE JUDGEMENT OF GOD 273 Was it not I that caught you then, And kiss'd you on the saddle bow ? 70 Did not the blue owl mark the men Whose spears stood like the corn a-row ? This Oliver is a right good knight, And must needs beat me, as I fear, Unless I catch him in the fight. My father's crafty way — John, here ! Bring up the men from the south gate, To help me if I fall or win, For even if I beat, their hate Will grow to more than this mere grin. 80 THE LITTLE TOWER Up and away through the drifting rain ! Let us ride to the Little Tower again, Up and away from the council-board ! Do on the hauberk, gird on the sword. The king is blind with gnashing his teeth. Change gilded scabbard to leather sheath : Though our arms are wet with the slanting rain, This is joy to ride to my love again : I laugh in his face when he bids me yield ; Who knows one field from the other field, 10 For the grey rain driveth all astray ? — Which way through the floods, good carle, I pray ? ' The left side yet ! the left side yet ! Till your hand strikes on the bridge parapet.' ' Yea so : the causeway holdeth good Under the water ? ' ' Hard as wood ; Right away to the uplands ; speed, good knight.' Seven hours yet before the light. MORRIS T 274 THE LITTLE TOWER Shake the wet off on the upland road ; My taberd has grown a heavy load. 20 What matter ? up and down hill after hill ; Dead grey night for five hours still. The hill-road droppeth lower again, Lower, down to the poplar plain. No furlong farther for us to-night. The Little Tower draweth in sight ; They are ringing the bells, and the torches glare, Therefore the roofs of wet slate stare. There she stands, and her yellow hair slantingly Drifts the same way that the rain goes by. 30 Who will be faithful to us to-day. With little but hard glaive-strokes for pay ? The grim king fumes at the council-board r ' Three more days, and then the sword ; Three more days, and my sword through his head ; And above his white brows, pale and dead, A paper crown on the top of the spire ; And for her the stake and the witches' fire.' Therefore though it be long ere day, Take axe and pick and spade, I pray. 40 Break the dams down all over the plain : God send us three more days such rain : Block all the upland roads with trees ; The Little Tower with no great ease Is won, I warrant ; bid them bring Much sheep and oxen, everything The spits are wont to turn with ; wine And wheaten bread, that we may dine In plenty each day of the siege ; Good friends, ye know me no hard liege ; 50 THE LITTLE TOWER 275 My lady is right fair, see ye ! Pray God to keep you frank and free. Love Isabeau, keep goodly cheer ; The Little Tower will stand well here Many a year when we are dead, And over it our green and red, Barred with the Lady's golden head ; From mere old age when we are dead. THE SAILING OF THE SWORD Across the empty garden-beds, When the Sword went out to sea, I scarcely saw my sisters' heads Bowed each beside a tree. I could not see the castle leads, When the Sword went out to sea. Alicia wore a scarlet gown. When the Sword went out to sea, But Ursula's was russet brown : For the mist we could not see lo The scarlet roofs of the good town, When the Sword went out to sea. Green holly in Alicia's hand, When the Sword went out to sea ; With sere oak-leaves did Ursula stand ; ! yet alas for me ! I did but bear a peel'd white wand. When the Sword went out to sea. 0, russet brown and scarlet bright, When the Sword went out to sea, so My sisters wore ; I wore but M'hite : Red, brown, and white, are three ; Three damozels ; each had a knight. When the Sword went out to sea. T 2 276 THE SAILING OF THE SWORD Sir Robert shouted loud, and said, When the Sivord went out to sea, ' Alicia, while I see thy head, What shall I bring for thee ? ' ' ' O, my sweet lord, a ruby red : ' The Sword went out to sea. 3° Sir Miles said, while the sails hung down. When the Sivord tvent out to sea, ' Oh, Ursula ! while I see the town, What shall I bring for thee ? ' ' Dear knight, bring back a falcon brown : ' The Sword went out to sea. But my Roland, no word he said When the Sivord went out to sea : But only turn'd away his head, — A quick shriek came from me : 4° ' Come back, dear lord, to your white maid ; ' — The Sivord went out to sea. The hot sun bit the garden-beds, When the Sword came bach from sea ; Beneath an apple-tree our heads Stretched out toward the sea ; Grey gleam 'd the thirsty castle-leads. When the Sword came back from sea. Lord Robert brought a ruby red, When the Sword came back from sea ; 50 He kissed Alicia on the head : ' I am come back to thee ; 'Tis time, sweet love, that we were wed. Now the Sword is back from sea ! ' Sir Miles he bore a falcon brown, When the Sword came back from sea ; His arms went round tall Ursula's gown, — ' What joy, love, but thee ? Let us be wed in the good town, Now the Sword is back from sea / ' 60 THE SAILING OF THE SWORD 277 My heart grew sick, no more afraid, When the Sword came back from sea ; Upon the deck a tall white maid Sat on Lord Roland's knee ; His chin was press'd upon her head. When the Sword came back from sea ! SPELL-BOUND How weary is it none can tell, How dismally the days go by ! I hear the tinkling of the bell, I see the cross against the sky. The year wears round to autumn-tide, Yet comes no reaper to the corn : The golden land is like a bride When first she knows herself forlorn — She sits and weeps with all her hair Laid downward over tender hands ; lo For stained silk she hath no care, No care for broken ivory wands ; The silver cups beside her stand ; The golden stars on the blue roof Yet glitter, though against her hand His cold sword presses for a proof He is not dead, but gone away. How many hours did she wait For me, I wonder ? Till the day Had jfaded whollj^, and the gate 20 Clanged to behind returning knights ? I wonder did she raise her head And go away, fleeing the lights ; And lay the samite on her bed, 278 SPELL-BOUND The wedding samite strewn with pearls ; Then sit with hands laid on her knees. Shuddering at half -heard sound of girls That chatter outside in the breeze 1 I wonder did her poor heart throb At distant tramp of coming knight ? 30 How often did the choking sob Kaise up her head and lips ? The light, Did it come on her unawares, And drag her sternly down before People who loved her not ? in prayers Did she say one name and no more ? And once — all songs they ever sung, All tales they ever told to me, This only burden through them rung : O ! golden love that waitest me, 40 The days pass on, pass on a 2)(ice, Sometimes I have a little rest In fairest dreams, when on thy face My lips lie, or thy hands are prest About m.y forehead, and thy lips Draw near and nearer to m,ine own ; But when the vision from me slips, In colourless dawn I lie and moan, And wander forth with fever' d blood, That makes me start at little things, 50 The blackbird screaming from the wood, The sudden whirr of pheasants' ivings. ! dearest, scarcely seen by me — But when that wild time had gone by, And in these arms I folded thee, Who ever thought those days could die ? SPELL-BOUND 279 Yet now I wait, and you wait too, For what perchance may never come ; You think I have forgotten you, That I grew tired and went home. 60 But what if some day as I stood Against the wall with strained hands, And turn'd my face toward the wood, Away from all the golden lands ; And saw you come with tired feet. And pale face thin and wan with care, And stained raiment no more neat. The white dust lying on your hair : — Then I should say, I could not come ; This land was my wide prison, dear ; 70 I could not choose but go ; at home There is a wizard whom I fear : He bound me round with silken chains I could not break ; he set me here Above the golden-waving plains. Where never reaper cometh near. And you have brought me my good sword, Wherewith in happy days of old I won j'ou well from knight and lord ; My heart upswells and I grow bold. 80 But I shall die unless you stand, — Half lying now, you are so weak, — Within "my arms, unless your hand Pass to and fro across my cheek. 280 THE WIND Ah ! no, no, it is nothing, surely nothing at all, Only the wild -going wind round by the garden- wall, For the dawn just now is breaking, the wind beginning to fall. Wind, wind ! thou art sad, art thou kind ? Wind, wind, unhajypy ! thou art blind, Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find. So I will sit, and think and think of the days gone by, Never moving my chair for fear the dogs should cry, Making no noise at all while the flambeau burns awry. For my chair is heavy and carved, and with sweeping green behind lo It is hung, and the dragons thereon grin out in the gusts of the wind ; On its folds an orange lies, with a deep gash cut in the rind. Wind, wind ! thou art sad, art thou kind ? Wind, wind, unhajypy ! thou art blind, Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find. If I move my chair it will scream, and the orange will roll out far. And the faint yellow juice ooze out like blood from a wizard's jar ; And the dogs will howl for those who went last month to the war. Wind, wind ! thou art sad, art thou kind ? Wind, wind, unhappy ! thou art blind, 20 Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find. So I will sit and think of love that is over and past, O ! so long ago — yes, I will be quiet at last ; Whether I like it or not, a grim half -slumber is cast Over my worn old brains, that touches the roots of my heart. And above my half -shut eyes the blue roof 'gins to part, And show the blue spring sky, till I am ready to start THE WIND 281 From out of the green-hung chair ; but something keeps me still, And I fall in a dream that I walk'd with her On the side of a hill, Dotted — for was it not spring ? — with tufts of the daffodil. 30 Wind, wind ! thou art sad, art thou kind ? Wind, ivind, unhappy ! thou art blind, Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find. And Margaret as she walk'd held a painted book in her hand ; Her finger kept the place ; I caught her, we both did stand Face to face, on the top of the highest hill in the land. Wind, wind ! thou art sad, art thou kind ? Wind, wind, unhappy ! thou art blind, Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find. I held to her long bare arms, but she shudder 'd away from me, 40 While the flush went out of her face as her head fell back on a tree. And a spasm caught her mouth, fearful for me to see ; And still I held to her arms till her shoulder touch'd my mail, Weeping she totter 'd forward, so glad that I should prevail, And her hair went over my robe, like a gold flag over a sail. Wind, wind ! thou art sad, art thou kind ? Wind, wind, unhapjjy ! thou art blind, Yet still thou ivanderest the lily-seed to find. I kiss'd her hard by the ear, and she kiss'd me on the brow, And then lay down on the grass, where the mark on the moss is now," 50 And spread her arms out wide while I went do'mi below. Wind, ivind ! thou art sad, art thou kind ? Wind, wind, unhappy ! thou art blind, Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find. 282 THE WIND And then I walk'd for a space to and fro on the side of the hill, Till I gather'd and held in my arms great sheaves of the daffodil, And when I came again my Margaret lay there still. I piled them high and high above her heaving breast, How they were caught and held in her loose ungirded vest ! 59 But one beneath her arm died, happy so to be prest ! Wind, wind ! thou art sad, art thou kind ? Wind, wind, unhappy ! thou art blind, Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find. Again I turn'd my back and went away for an hour ; She said no word when I came again, so, flower by flower, I counted the daffodils over, and cast them languidly lower. Wind, wind ! thou art sad, art thou Jcind ? Wind, wind, unhappy ! thou art blind, Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find. My dry hands shook and shook as the green gown show'd again, 70 Clear'd from the yellow flowers, and I grew hollow with pain, And on to us both there fell from the sun-shower drops of rain. Wind, wind ! thou art sad, art thou hind ? Wind, wind, unhappy ! thou art blind. Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find. Alas ! alas ! there was blood on the very quiet breast. Blood lay in the many folds of the loose ungirded vest. Blood lay upon her arm where the flower had been prest. I shriek 'd and leapt from my chair, and the orange roU'd out far, The faint yellow juice oozed out like blood from a wizard's jar ; 80 And then in march'd the ghosts of those that had gone to the war. THE WIND 283 I knew them by the arms that I was used to paint Upon their long thin shields ; but the colours were all grown faint, And faint upon their banner was Olaf, king and saint. Wind, wind ! tliou art sad, art thou kind ? Wind, wind, unhappy ! thou art blind. Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find. THE BLUE CLOSET The Damozels. Lady Alice, Lady Louise, Between the wash of the tumbling seas We are ready to sing, if so ye please ; So lay your long hands on the keys ; Sing, ' Laudate pueri.' And ever the great bell overhead Boom'd in the ivind a knell for the dead, Though no one tolVd it, a knell for the dead. Lady Louise. Sister, let the measure swell Not too loud ; for you sing not well lo If you drown the faint boom of the bell ; He is Aveary, so am I. And ever the chevron overhead Flapped on the banner of the dead ; (Was he asleep, or was he dead ?) Lady Alice. Alice the Queen, and Louise the Queen, Two damozels wearing purple and green, Four lone ladies dwelling here From day to day and year to year ; And there is none to let us go ; 20 To break the locks of the doors below. Or shovel away the heaped-up snow ; And when we die no man will know That we are dead ; but they give us leave. 284 THE BLUE CLOSET Once every year on Christmas-eve, To sing in the Closet Blue one song ; And we should be so long, so long, If we dared, in singing ; for dream on dream, They float on in a happy stream ; Float from the gold strings, float from the keys, 30 Float from the open'd lips of Louise ; But, alas ! the sea-salt oozes through The chinks of the tiles of the Closet Blue ; And ever the great bell overhead Booms in the tvind a knell for the dead. The wind plays on it a knell for the dead. [They sing all together.} How long ago was it, how long ago. He came to this tower with hands full of snow ? ' Kneel down, O love Louise, kneel down,' he said, And sprinkled the dusty snow over my head. 40 He watch'd the snow melting, it ran through my hair, Ran over my shoulders, white shoulders and bare. ' I cannot weep for thee, poor love Louise, For my tears are all hidden deep under the seas ; ' In a gold and blue casket she keeps all my tears. But my eyes are no longer blue, as in old years ; ' Yea, they grow grey with time, grow small and dry, I am so feeble now, would I might die.' And in truth the great bell overhead Left off his pealing for the dead, 50 Perchance, because the wind was dead. Will he come back again, or is he dead ? ! is he sleeping, my scarf round his head ? Or did they strangle him as he lay there. With the long scarlet scarf I used to wear ? Only I pray thee. Lord, let him come here ! Both his soul and his body to me are most dear. Dear Lord, that loves me, I wait to receive Either body or spirit this wild Christmas -eve. THE BLUE CLOSET 285 Through the floor shot up a lily red, 60 With a patch of earth from the land of the dead. For he was strong in the land of the dead. What matter that his cheeks were pale, His kind kiss'd lips all grey ? ' O, love Louise, have you waited long ? ' ' 0, my lord Arthur, yea.' What if his hair that brush'd her cheek Was stiff with frozen rime ? His eyes were grown quite blue again, As in the happy time. 70 ' O, love Louise, this is the key Of the happy golden land ! O, sisters, cross the bridge with me, My eyes are full of sand. What matter that I cannot see. If ye take me by the hand ? ' And ever the great bell overhead. And the tumbling seas mourn' d for the dead ; For their song ceased, and they were dead. 79 THE TUNE OF SEVEN TOWERS No one goes there now : For what is left to fetch away From the desolate battlements all arow, And the lead roof heavy and grey ? ' Therefore,' said fair Yoland of tJie flowers, ' This is the tune of Seven Towers.' No one walks there now ; Except in the white moonlight The white ghosts walk in a row ; If one could see it, an awful sight, — 10 ' Listen ! ' said fair Yoland of the flowers, ' This is the tune of Seven Towers.' 286 THE TUNE OF SEVEN TOWERS But none can see them now, Though they sit by the side of the moat, Feet half in the water, there in a row, Long hair in the wind afloat. ' Therefore,' said fair Yoland of the flowers , ' This is the tune of Seven Towers.' If any will go to it now, He must go to it all alone, 20 Its gates will not open to any row Of glittering spears — will you go alone ? ' Listen ! ' said fair Yoland of the flowers, ' This is the tune of Seven Towers.' By my love go there now, To fetch me my coif away, My coif and my kirtle, with pearls arow, Oliver, go to-day ! 'Therefore,' said fair Yoland of the flowers, ' This is the tune of Seven Towers. ' 30 I am unhappy now, I cannot tell you why ; If you go, the priests and I in a row Will pray that you may not die. ' Listen ! ' said fair Yoland of the flowers^ ' This is the tune of Seven Towers.' If you will go for me now, I will kiss your mouth at last ; [She sayeth inwardly.] {The graves stand grey in a row,) Oliver, hold me fast ! 40 ' Therefore,' said fair Yoland of the flowers, ' This is the tune of Seven Towers.' 287 GOLDEN WINGS Midways of a walled garden, In the happy poplar land, Did an ancient castle stand, With an old knight for a warden. Many scarlet bricks there were In its walls, and old grey stone ; Over which red apples shone At the right time of the year. On the bricks the green moss grew, Yellow lichen on the stone, lo Over which red apples shone ; Little war that castle knew. Deep green water fill'd the moat. Each side had a red-brick lip. Green and mossy with the drip Of dew and rain ; there was a boat Of carven wood, with hangings green About the stern ; it was great bliss For lovers to sit there and kiss In the hot summer noons, not seen. 20 Across the moat the fresh west wind In very little ripples went ; The way the heavy aspens bent Towards it, was a thing to mind. The painted drawbridge over it Went up and down with gilded chains, 'Twas pleasant in the summer rains 30 Within the bridge-house there to sit. There were five swans that ne'er did eat The water- weeds, for ladies came Each day, and young knights did the same. And gave them cakes and bread for meat. 288 GOLDEN WINGS They had a house of painted wood, A red roof gold-spiked over it, Wherein upon their eggs to sit Week after week ; no drop of blood, Drawn from men's bodies by sword-blows. Came over there, or any tear ; Most certainly from year to year 'Twas pleasant as a Provence rose. 40 The banners seem'd quite full of ease. That over the turret-roofs hung down ; The battlements could get no frown From the flower-moulded cornices. Who walked in that garden there ? Miles and Giles and Isabeau, Tall Jehane du Castel beau, Alice of the golden hair, Big Sir Gervaise, the good knight, Fair Ellayne le Violet, 50 Mary, Constance fille de fay, Many dames with footfall light. Whosoever wander 'd there. Whether it be dame or knight. Half of scarlet, half of white Their raiment was ; of roses fair Each wore a garland on the head, At Ladies' Gard the way was so : Fair Jehane du Castel beau Wore her wreath till it was dead. 60 Little joy she had of it. Of the raiment white and red. Or the garland on her head. She had none with whom to sit In the carven boat at noon ; None the more did Jehane weep, She would only stand and keep Saying, ' He will be here soon.' GOLDEN WINGS 289 Many times in the long day Miles and Giles and Gervaise past, 7° Holding each some white hand fast. Every time they heard her say : ' Summer cometh to an end, Undern cometh after noon ; Golden wings will be here soon, What if I some token send ? ' Wherefore that night within the hall, With open mouth and open eyes, Like some one listening with surprise. She sat before the sight of all. 80 Stoop'd down a little she sat there, With neck stretch 'd out and chin thrown up, One hand around a golden cup ; And strangely with her fingers fair She beat some tune upon the gold ; The minstrels in the gallery Sung : ' Arthur, who will never die, In Avallon he groweth old.' And when the song was ended, she Rose and caught up her gown and ran ; 90 None stopp'd her eager face and wan Of all that pleasant company. Kight so within her own chamber Upon her bed she sat ; and drew Her breath in quick gasps ; till she knew That no man follow'd after her : She took the garland from her head, Loosed all her hair, and let it lie Upon the coverlit ; thereby She laid the gown of white and red ; 100 And she took off her scarlet shoon, And bared her feet ; still more and more Her sweet face redden'd ; evermore She murmur'd : ' He will be here soon ; MORRIS U 290 GOLDEN WINGS ' Truly he cannot fail to know My tender body waits him here ; And if he knows, I have no fear For poor Jehane du Castel beau.' She took a sword within her hand, Whose hilts were silver, and she sung, no Somehow like this, wild words that rung A long way over the moonlit land : — Gold wings across the sea ! Grey light from tree to tree. Gold hair beside my knee, I pray thee come to me. Gold wings ! The water slips. The red-bill'd moorhen dips. Sweet kisses on red lips ; Alas ! the red rust grips, 120 And the blood -red dagger rips, Yet, O knight, come to me ! Are not my blue eyes sweet ? The west wind from the wheat Blows cold across my feet ; Is it not time to meet Gold wings across the sea ? White swans on the green moat. Small feathers left afloat By the blue-painted boat ; 130 Swift running of the stoat ; Sweet gurgling note by note Of sweet music. gold wings, Listen how gold hair sings, And the Ladies' Castle rings Gold wings across the sea. GOLDEN WINGS 291 I sit on a purple bed, Outside, the wall is red, Thereby the apple hangs, And the wasp, caught by the fangs, 140 Dies in the autumn night. And the bat flits till light, And the love-crazed knight Kisses the long wet grass : The weary days pass, — Gold wings across the sea ! Gold wings across the sea ! Moonlight from tree to tree. Sweet hair laid on my knee, O, sweet knight, come to me ! 15° Gold wings, the short night slips, The white swan's long neck drips, I pray thee, kiss my lips. Gold wings across the sea. No answer through the moonlit night ; No answer in the cold grey dawn ; No answer when the shaven lawn Grew green, and all the roses bright. Her tired feet look'd cold and thin, Her lips were twitch'd, and wretched tears, 160 Some, as she lay, roll'd past her ears. Some fell from off her quivering chin. Her long throat, stretch'd to its full length. Rose up and fell right brokenly ; As though the unhappy heart was nigh Striving to break with all its strength. And when she slipp'd from off the bed. Her cramp 'd feet would not hold her ; she Sank down and crept on hand and knee, On the window-sill she laid her head. 170 u 2 292 GOLDEN WINGS There, with crooked arm upon the sill, She look'd out, muttering dismally : There is no sail upon the sea, No pennon on the empty hill. ' I cannot stay here all alone, Or meet their happy faces here. And wretchedly I have no fear ; A little while, and I am gone.' Therewith she rose upon her feet. And totter'd ; cold and misery iSo Still made the deep sobs come, till she At last stretch'd out her fingers sweet, And caught the great sword in her hand ; And, stealing down the silent stair, Barefooted in the morning air, And only in her smock, did stand Upright upon the green lawn grass ; And hope grew in her as she said : ' I have thrown off the white and red, And pray God it may come to pass 190 ' I meet him ; if ten years go by Before I meet him ; if, indeed. Meanwhile both soul and bod}^ bleed, Yet there is end of misery, * And I have hope. He could not come. But I can go to him and show These new things I have got to know. And make him speak, who has been dumb.' Jehane ! the red morning sun Changed her white feet to glowing gold, 200 Upon her smock, on crease and fold, Changed that to gold which had been dun. O Miles, and Giles, and Isabeau, Fair Ellayne le Violet, Mary, Constance fille de fay ! Where is Jehane du Castel beau ? GOLDEN WINGS 293 big Gervaise ride apace ! Down to the hard yellow sand, Where the water meets the land. This is Jehane by her face ; 210 Why has she a broken sword ? Mary ! she is slain outright ; Verily a piteous sight ; Take her up without a word ! Giles and Miles and Gervaise there, Ladies' Gard must meet the war ; Whatsoever knights these are, Man the walls withouten fear ! Axes to the apple trees, Axes to the aspens tall ! 220 Barriers without the wall May be lightly made of these. poor shivering Isabeau ; Poor Ellayne le Violet, Bent with fear ! we miss to-day Brave Jehane du Castel beau. poor Mary, weeping so ! Wretched Constance fille de fay ! Verily we miss to-day Fair Jehane du Castel beau. 230 The apples now grow green and sour Upon the mouldering castle-wall. Before they ripen there they fall : There are no banners on the tower. The draggled swans most eagerly eat The green weeds trailing in the moat ; Inside the rotting leaky boat You see a slain man's stiffen'd feet. 294 THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS Had she come all the way for this, To part at last without a kiss ? Yea, had she borne the dirt and rain That her own eyes might see him slain Beside the haystack in the floods ? Along the dripping leafless woods, J The stirrup touching either shoe, She rode astride as troopers do ; With kirtle kilted to her knee, To which the mud splash'd wretchedly ; lo And the wet dripp'd from every tree Upon her head and heavy hair. And on her eyelids broad and fair ; The tears and rain ran down her face. By fits and starts they rode apace. And very often was his place Ear off from her ; he had to ride Ahead, to see what might betide When the roads cross'd ; and sometimes, when There rose a murmuring from his men, 20 Had to turn back with promises ; Ah me ! she had but little ease ; And often for pure doubt and dread She sobb'd, made giddy in the head By the swift riding ; while, for cold, Her slender fingers scarce could hold The wet reins ; yea, and scarcely, too. She felt the foot within her shoe Against the stirrup : all for this, To part at last without a kiss 30 Beside the haystack in the floods. For when they near'd that old soak'd hay, They saw across the only way That Judas, Godmar, and the three Red running lions dismally Grinn'd from his pennon, under which. THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS 295 In one straight line along the ditch, They counted thirty heads. So then, While Robert turn'd round to his men. She saw at once the wretched end, 40 And, stooping down, tried hard to rend Her coif the wrong way from her head. And hid her eyes ; while Robert said : ' Nay, love, 'tis scarcely two to one. At Poictiers where we made them run So fast — why, sweet my love, good cheer. The Gascon frontier is so near, Nought after this.' But, ' 0,' she said, ' My God ! my God ! I have to tread The long way back without you ; then 50 The court at Paris ; those six men ; The gratings of the Chatelet ; The swift Seine on some rainy day Like this, and people standing by, And laughing, while my weak hands try To recollect how strong men swim. All this, or else a life with him. For which I should be damned at last. Would God that this next hour were past ! ' He answer'd not, but cried his cry, 60 * St. George for Marny ! ' cheerily ; And laid his hand upon her rein. Alas ! no man of all his train Gave back that cheery cry again ; And, while for rage his thumb beat fast Upon his sword-hilts, some one cast About his neck a kerchief long, And bound him. Then they went along To Godmar ; who said : ' Now, Jehane, Your lover's life is on the wane 7° 296 THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS So fast, that, if this very hour You yield not as my paramour, He will not see the rain leave off — Nay, keep your tongue from gibe and scoff, Sir Robert, or I slay you now.' She laid her hand upon her brow, Then gazed upon the palm, as though She thought her forehead bled, and — ' No/ She said, and turn'd her head away, As there were nothing else to say, 80 And everything were settled : red Grew Godmar's face from chin to head : ' Jehane, on yonder hill there stands My castle, guarding well my lands : What hinders me from taking you, And doing that I list to do To your fair wilful body, while Your knight lies dead ? ' A wicked smile Wrinkled her face, her lips grew thin, A long way out she thrust her chin : 9° ' You know that I should strangle you While you were sleeping ; or bite through Your throat, by God's help— ah ! ' she said, ' Lord Jesus, pity your poor maid ! For in such wise they hem me in, I cannot choose but sin and sin, Whatever happens : yet I think They could not make me eat or drink, And so should I just reach my rest.' ' Nay, if you do not my behest, 100 O Jehane ! though I love you well,' Said Godmar, ' would I fail to tell All that I know.' ' Foul lies,' she said. ' Eh ? lies my Jehane ? by God's head, At Paris folks would deem them true ! Do you know, Jehane, they cry for you, " Jehane the brown ! Jehane the brown ! Give us Jehane to burn or drown ! " — THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS 297 Eh — gag me Robert ! — sweet my friend, This were indeed a piteous end no For those long fingers, and long feet, And long neck, and smooth shoulders sweet ; An end that few men would forget That saw it — So, an hour yet : Consider, Jehane, which to take Of life or death ! ' So, scarce awake. Dismounting, did she leave that place, And totter some yards : with her face Turn'd upward to the sky she lay, Her head on a wet heap of hay, 120 And fell asleep : and while she slept, And did not dream, the minutes crept Round to the twelve again ; but she. Being waked at last, sigh'd quietly, And strangely childlike came, and said : ' I will not.' Straightway Godmar's head, As though it hung on strong wires, turn'd Most sharply round, and his face burn'd. For Robert — both his eyes were dry. He could not weep, but gloomily 130 He seem'd to watch the rain ; yea, too. His lips were firm ; he tried once more To touch her lips ; she reach'd out, sore And vain desire so tortured them, The poor grey lips, and now the hem Of his sleeve brush'd them. With a start Up God mar rose, thrust them apart ; From Robert's throat he loosed the bands Of silk and mail ; with empty hands Held out, she stood and gazed, and saw, 140 The long bright blade without a flaw Glide out from Godmar's sheath, his hand In Robert's hair ; she saw him bend Back Robert's head ; she saw him send 298 THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS The thin steel down ; the blow told well, Right backward the knight Robert fell, And moan'd as dogs do, being half dead, Unwitting, as I deem : so then Godmar turn'd grinning to his men. Who ran, some five or six, and beat 150 His head to pieces at their feet. Then Godmar tum'd again and said : ' So, Jehane, the first fitte is read ! Take note, my lady, that your way Lies backward to the Chatelet ! ' She shook her head and gazed awhile At her cold hands with a rueful smile. As though this thing had made her mad. This was the parting that they had Beside the haystack in the floods. 160 TWO RED ROSES ACROSS THE MOON There was a lady lived in a hall. Large in the eyes, and slim and tall ; And ever she sung from noon to noon. Two red roses across the moon. There was a knight came riding by In early spring, when the roads were dry ; And he heard that lady sing at the noon. Two red roses across the moon. Yet none the more he stopp'd at all, But he rode a-gallop past the hall ; 10 And left that lady singing at noon. Two red roses across the moon. Because, forsooth, the battle was set. And the scarlet and blue had got to be met, He rode on the spur till the next warm noon : — • Two red roses across the moon. TWO RED ROSES ACROSS THE MOON 299 But the battle was scatter'd from hill to hill, From the windmill to the watermill ; And he said to himself, as it near'd the noon. Two red roses across the moon. 20 You scarce could see for the scarlet and blue, A golden helm or a golden shoe ; So he cried, as the fight grew thick at the noon, Two red roses across the moon ! Verily then the gold bore through The huddled spears of the scarlet and blue ; And they cried, as they cut them down at the noon, Two red roses across the moon ! I trow he stopp'd when he rode again By the hall, though draggled sore with the rain ; 30 And his lips were pinch'd to kiss at the noon Two red roses across the moon. Under the may she stoop'd to the crown. All was gold, there was nothing of brown ; And the horns blew up in the hall at noon. Two red roses across the moon. WELLAND RIVER Fair Ellayne she walk'd by Welland river, Across the lily lee : 0, gentle Sir Robert, ye are not kind To stay so long at sea. Over the marshland none can see Your scarlet pennon fair ; 0, leave the Easterlings alone, Because of my golden hair. The day when over Stamford bridge That dear pennon I see 10 Go up toward the goodly street, 'Twill be a fair day for me. 300 WELLAND RIVER O, let the bonny pennon bide At Stamford, the good town, And let the Easterlings go free. And their ships go up and down. For every day that passes by I wax both pale and green, From gold to gold of my girdle There is an inch between. 20 I sew'd it up with scarlet silk Last night upon my knee, And my heart grew sad and sore to think Thy face I'd never see. I sew'd it up with scarlet silk, As I lay upon my bed : Sorrow ! the man I'll never see That had my maidenhead. But as Ellayne sat on her window-seat And comb'd her yellow hair, 30 She saw come over Stamford bridge The scarlet pennon fair. As Ellayne lay and sicken'd sore, The gold shoes on her feet. She saw Sir Robert and his men Ride up the Stamford street. He had a coat of fine red gold, And a bascinet of steel ; Take note his goodly Collayne sword Smote the spur upon his heel. 40 And by his side, on a grey jennet, There rode a fair lady, For every ruby Ellayne wore, I count she carried three. Say, was not Ellayne's gold hair fine. That fell to her middle free ? WELLAND RIVER 301 But that lady's hair down in the street, Fell lower than her knee. Fair Ellayne's face, from sorrow and grief, Was waxen pale and green : 50 That lady's face was goodly red, She had but little tene. But as he pass'd by her window He grew a little wroth : O, why does yon pale face look at me, From out the golden cloth ? It is some burd, the fair dame said That a3'e rode him beside. Has come to see your bonny face This merry summer-tide. 60 But Ellayne let a lily-flower Light on his cap of steel : O, I have gotten two hounds, fair knight, The one has served me well. But the other, just an hour agone, Has come from over sea, And all his fell is sleek and fine. But little he knows of me. Now, which shall I let go, fair knight. And which shall bide with me ? 7° O, lady, have no doubt to keep The one that best loveth thee. O, Robert, see how sick I am ! Ye do not so by me. Lie still, fair love ! have ye gotten harm While I was on the sea ? Of one gift, Robert, that ye gave, I sicken to the death, I pray you nurse-tend me, my knight, Whiles that I have my breath. 80 302 WELLAND RIVER Six fathoms from the Stamford bridge He left that dame to stand, And whiles she wept, and whiles she cursed That she ever had taken land. He has kiss'd sweet Ellayne on the mouth, And fair she fell asleep, And long and long days after that Sir Robert's house she did keep. RIDING TOGETHER 1 For many, many days together The wind blew steady from the East ; For many days hot grew the weather. About the time of our Lady's Feast. For many days we rode together. Yet met we neither friend nor foe ; Hotter and clearer grew the weather. Steadily did the East wind blow. We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather, Clear-cut, with shadows very black, lo As freely we rode on together With helms unlaced and bridles slack. And often, as we rode together, We, looking down the green bank'd stream, Saw flowers in the sunny weather. And saw the bubble-making bream. And in the night lay down together, And hung above our heads the rood. Or watch'd night-long in the dewy weather. The while the moon did watch the wood. 20 ^ This poem had previously appeared in The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, May 1856. I RIDING TOGETHER 303 Our spears stood bright and thick together, Straight out the banners stream'd behind, As we gallop 'd on in the sunny weather, With faces turn'd towards the wind. Down sank our threescore spears together. As thick we saw the pagans ride ; His eager face in the clear fresh weather. Shone out that last time by my side. Up the sweep of the bridge we dash'd together, It rock'd to the crash of the meeting spears, 30 Down rain'd the buds of the dear spring weather. The elm-tree flowers fell like tears. There, as we roll'd and writhed together, I threw my arms above my head, For close by my side, in the lovely weather, I saw him reel and fall back dead. I and the slayer met together, He waited the death-stroke there in his place, With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather, Gapingly mazed at my madden'd face. 4° Madly I fought as we fought together ; In vain : the little Christian band The pagans drown 'd, as in stormy weather, The river drowns low -lying land. They bound my blood -stain 'd hands together, They bound his corpse to nod by my side : Then on we rode, in the bright March weather. With clash of cymbals did we ride. We ride no more, no more together ; My prison-bars are thick and strong, 50 I take no heed of any weather. The sweet Saints grant I live not long. 304 FATHER JOHN'S WAR-SONG The Reapers. So many reapers, Father John, So many reapers and no little son. To meet you when the day is done, With little stiff legs to waddle and run ? Pray you beg, borrow, or steal one son. Hurrah for the corn-sheaves of Father John ! Father John. O maiden Mary, be wary, be wary ! And go not down to the river, Lest the kingfisher, your evil wisher, Lure you down to the river, ic Lest your white feet grow muddy, Your red hair too rudd}^ With the river-mud so red : But when you are wed Go down to the river ; O maiden Mary, be very wary, And dwell among the corn ! See, this dame Alice, maiden Mary, Her hair is thin and white. But she is a housewife good and wary, 20 And a great steel key hangs bright From her gown, as red as the flowers in corn ; She is good and old like the autumn corn. Maiden Mary. This is knight Roland, Father John, Stark in his arms from a field half -won ; Ask him if he has seen your son : Roland, lay your sword on the corn, The piled-up sheaves of the golden corn. FATHER JOHN'S WAR-SONG 305 Knight Roland. Why does she kiss me, Father John ? She is my true love truly won ; 30 Under my helm is room for one, But the molten lead-streams trickle and run From my roof-tree, burning under the sun ; No corn to burn, we had eaten the com, There was no waste of the golden com. Father John. Ho, you reapers, away from the corn, To march with the banner of Father John ! The Reapers. We will win a house for Roland his son, And for maiden Mary with hair like com, As red as the reddest of golden com. 40 Omnes. Father John, you have got you a son. Seven feet high when his helm is on ! Pennon of Roland, banner of John, Star of Mary, march well on. SIR GILES' WAR-SONG Ho ! is there any will ride with me, Sir Giles, le bon des barrieres ? The clink of arms is good to hear. The flap of pennons fair to see ; Ho ! is there any ivill ride with me. Sir Giles, le bon des barrieres 1 The leopards and lilies are fair to see, ' St. George Guienne ' right good to hear : Ho ! is there any will ride with me. Sir Giles, le bon des barrieres ? lo MORRIS X 303 SIR GILES' WAR-SONG I stood by the barrier, My coat being blazon 'd fair to see ; Ho ! is there any will ride with me. Sir Giles, le bon des barrieres ? » Clisson put out his head to see, And lifted his basnet up to hear ; I pull'd him through the bars to ME, Sir Giles, le bon des barrieres. 1 NEAR AVALON A SHIP with shields before the sun. Six maidens round the mast, A red-gold crown on every one, A green gown on the last. The fluttering green banners there Are wrought with ladies' heads most fair, And a portraiture of Guenevere The middle of each sail doth bear. A ship with sails before the wind, And round the helm six knights, Their heaumes are on, whereby, half blind, They pass by many sights. The tatter 'd scarlet banners there. Right soon will leave the spear-heads bare, Those six knights sorrowfully bear In all their heaumes some yellow hair. 307 PRAISE OF MY LADY My lady seems of ivory Forehead, straight nose, and cheeks that be Hollow 'd a little mournfully. Beata mea Domina ! Her forehead, overshadow'd much By bows of hair, has a wave such As God was good to make for me. Beala mea Domina ! Not greatly long my lady's hair, Nor yet with yellow colour fair, lo But thick and crisped wonderfully : Beata mea Domina ! Heavy to make the pale face sad. And dark, but dead as though it had Been forged by God most wonderfully ■ — Beata mea Domina ! — Of some strange metal, thread by thread, To stand out from my lady's head, Not moving much to tangle me. Beata mea Domina ! 20 Beneath her brows the lids fall slow. The lashes a clear shadow throw Wliere I would wish my lip^ to be. Beata mea Domina ! Her great eyes, standing far apart, Draw up some memory from her heart. And gaze out very mournfully ; — Beata mea Domina ! — So beautiful and kind they are, But most times looking out afar, 30 Waiting for something, not for me. Beata mea Domina ! X 2 308 PRAISE OF MY LADY I wonder if the lashes long Are those that do her bright eyes wrong, For always half tears seem to be — Beata mea Domina ! — - Lurking below the underlid, Darkening the place where they lie hid — If they should rise and flow for me ! Beata mea Domina ! 40 Her full lips being made to kiss, Curl'd up and pensive each one is ; This makes me faint to stand and see. Beala m,ea Domina ! Her lips are not contented now, Because the hours pass so slow Towards a sweet time : (pray for me), — Beata mea Domina ! — ■ Nay, hold thy peace ! for who can tell ; But this at least I know full well, 50 Her lips are parted longingly, —Beata mea Domina ! — So passionate and swift to move, To pluck at any flying love. That I grow faint to stand and see. Beata mea Domina 1 Yea ! there beneath them is her chin, So fine and round, it were a sin To feel no weaker when I see — Beata rnea Domina ! — 60 God's dealings ; for with so much care And troublous, faint lines wrought in there, He finishes her face for me. Beata m,ea Domina ! Of her long neck what shall I say ? What thing about her body's sway. Like a knight's pennon or slim tree — Beata mea Domina ! — ( I PRAISE OF MY LADY 309 Set gently waving in the wind ; Or her long hands that I may find 70 On some day sweet to move o'er me ? Beata mea Domina ! God pity me though, if I miss'd The telling, how along her wrist The veins creep, dying languidly — Beata mea Domina ! — Inside her tender palm and thin. Now give me pardon, dear, wherein My voice is weak and vexes thee. Beata mea Domina ! 80 All men that see her any time, I charge you straightly in this rhyme, What, and wherever you may be, — Beata mea Domina ! — To kneel before her ; as for me, I choke and grow quite faint to see My lady moving graciously. Beata mea Domina ! SUMMER DAWTSii Pray but one prayer for me twixt thy closed lips. Think but one thought of me up in the stars. The summer night waneth, the morning light slips, Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars, That are patiently waiting there for the dawn : Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold Waits to float through them along with the sun. ' This poem had previously appeared in The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, October 1856. 310 SUMMER DAWN Far out in the meadows, above the young corn, The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold The uneasy wind rises ; the roses are dun ; Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn, Round the lone house in the midst of the corn. Speak but one word to me over the corn, Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn. IN PRISON 1 Wearily, drearily. Half the day long, Flap the great banners High over the stone ; Strangely and eerily Sounds the wind's song, Bending the banner-poles. While, all alone. Watching the loophole's spark. Lie I, with life all dark. Feet tether 'd, hands tetter'd Fast to the stone, The grim walls, square letter'd With prison 'd men's groan. Still strain the banner-poles Through the wind's song, Westward the banner rolls Over my wrong. ' This poem had previously appeared in ' Frank's Sealed Letter in The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, April 1856. THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON A POEM 1867 (First published in 1807. Reprinted here from the second edition, revised, 1868. The alternate readings given at the foot of the page are those of the first edition). ARGUMENT Jason, the son of ^son, king of lolchos, having come to man's estate, (Remanded of Pelias his father's kingdom, which he held wrongfully. But Pelias answered, that if he would bring from Colchis the golden fleece of the ram that had carried Phryxus thither, he would yield him his right. Whereon Jason sailed to Colchis in the ship Argo, with other heroes, and by means of Medea, the king's daughter, won the fleece ; and carried off also Medea ; and so, after many troubles, came back to lolchos again. There, by Medea's wiles, was Pelias slain ; but Jason went to Corinth, and lived with Medea happily, till he was taken with the love of Glauce, the king's daughter of Corinth, and must needs wed her ; whom also Medea destroyed, and fled to ^geus at Athens ; and not long after Jason died strangely. THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON BOOK I Jason having grown up to manhood in the woods, is warned of what his hfe shall be. In Thessaly, beside the tumbling sea, Once dwelt a folk, men called the Minyse ; 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, lo Nigh landlocked, peopled with all kinds of fish, And the good land yields all that man can wish. So there they built lolchos, that each day Grew great until all these were passed away, With many another, and Cretheus the king Had died, and left his crown and everything To .^son, his own son by fair Tyro ; Whom, in unhappy daj's and long ago, A God had loved, whose son was Pelias. And so, within a while, it came to pass 20 This Pelias, being covetous and strong And full of wiles, and deeming naught was wrong That wrought him good, thrust ^son from his throne, And over all the Minyae reigned alone ; While i^son, like a poor and feeble lord, Dwelt in lolchos still, nor was his word Regarded much by any man therein, Nor did men labour much his praise to win. 314 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON i Now 'mid all this a fair young son he had ; And when his state thus fell from good to bad 30 He thought, Though Pelias leave me now alone, Yet he may wish to make quite sure his throne By slaying me and mine, some evil day ; Therefore the child will I straight send away, 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 40 About the foot of Pelion : There should he Blow loudly on a horn of ivory That iEson 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, ^son 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 50 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 apparelled, Yet unto you shall he be but a slave. Since now from fear his tender years you save ; ' ' And then,' quoth ^son, ' all these words being said, Hold out this ring, set with a ruby red. Adorned with dainty little images. And this same horn, whereon, 'twixt carven trees, 60 Diana follows up the flying hart ; They shall be signs of truth upon your part. Then leave the child with him, and come to me, Minding what words the Centaur saith to thee ; Of whom thou needest have no whit of fear ; And, ere thou goest, bring me the child here.' Then went the man and came again to him With Jason, who was strong and large of limb 29-106 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 315 As for his j^ears, and now upon his feet Went firmly, and began to feel life sweet, 70 And longeci for this and that, and on his tongue, Bewildered, half articulate, speech hung. But iEson, when he saw the sturdy boy, His bright round limbs and face lit up with joy Of very life, sighed deeply, and he said : ' child, I pray the Gods to spare thine head The burden of a crown ; were it not good That thou shouldst live and die within this wood That clothes the feet of Pelion, knowing naught Of all the things by foolish men so sought ; 80 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 leopard'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 naught That by the fates upon them may be brought. 90 And when the spring brings love, then mayst thou find In some fair grassy place, the wood-nymphs kind. And choose thy mate, and with her, hand in hand. Go wandering through the blossoming sweet land ; And naught 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, 100 How many griefs his head, whitened with care Long ere its time, before his death should bear. Now, since the moonless night and dark was come. Time was it that the child should leave his home ; And saddled in the court the stout horse stood That was to bear them to the Centaur's wood ; 74 bright] fair 316 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON i And the tried slave stood ready by his lord, With wallet on his back, and sharpened sword Girt to his side ; to whom the horn and ring, Fit for the belt and finger of a king, no Did ^son 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 has Jason left his home. All night they rode, and at the dawn, being come Unto the outskirts of the forest wild. They left the horse, and the still sleeping child The slave bore in his arms, until they came Unto the place where, living free from blame, 120 Chiron the old roamed through the oaken wood ; There by a flowering thorn-bush the slave stood. And set the little Jason on the ground ; Who, waking from sweet sleep, looked all around And 'gan to prattle ; but his guardian drew The horn from off his neck, and thereon blew A point of hunting known to two or three, That sounded through the forest merrily, Then waited listening. And meantime the sun. Come from Euboean cliffs, had just begun 130 To light the high tips of the forest grass. And in the thorn the blackbird singing was ; But 'mid his noise the listening man could hear The sound of hoofs, whereat a little fear He felt within his heart, and heeded naught The struggling of the child, who ever sought To gain the horn all glittering of bright gold, Wrought by the cunning Daedalus of old. But louder still the noise he hearkened grew, Until at last in sight the Centaur drew, 140 A mighty grey horse, trotting down the glade, Over whose back the long grey locks were laid, 1 14 At last] Then 137 of bright gold] of gold 107-182 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 317 That from his reverend head abroad did flow ; For to the waist was man, but all below A mighty horse, once roan, now well-nigh white With lapse of years ; with oak-wreaths was he dight Where man joined unto horse, and on his head He wore a gold crown, set with rubies red. And in his hand he bare a mighty bow, No man could bend of those that battle now, 150 So, when he saw him coming through the trees, The trembling slave sunk down upon his knees And put the child before him ; but Chiron, Who knew all things, cried : ' Man with iEson's son, Thou needest not to tell me who thou art, Nor will I fail to do to him my part : A vain thing were it, truly, if I strove. Such as I am, against the will of Jove. Lo now, this youngling, set 'twixt thee and me, In days to come a mighty man shall be, 160 Well-nigh the mightiest of all those that dwell Between Olympus and Malea ; and well Shall Juno love him till he come to die. ' Now get thee to thy master presently. But leave with me the red ring and the horn, That folk may know of whom this boy was born In days to come, when he shall leave this wild : And lay between my arms the noble child.' So the slave joyful, but still half afraid. Within the mighty arms young Jason laid, 170 And gave up both the horn and the red ring Unto the Centaur, who the horn did sling About him ; on his finger, with a smile. Setting the ring ; and in a little while The slave departing, reached the open plain. And straight he mounted on his horse again. And rode on toward lolchos all the day, And as the sunset darkened every way, He reached the gates, and coming to his lord. Bid him rejoice, and told him every word 180 That Chiron said. Right glad was ^Eson then That from his loins a great man among men 318 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON r Should thus have sprung ; and so he passed his days Full quietly, remote from fear or praise. And now was Pelias mindful of the day When from the altar's horns he drew away Sidero's cruel hands, while Neleus smote The golden-hilted sword into her throat, And without fire, or barley-cake, or cup, No pleasing victim, she was offered up 190 In Juno's temple ; so he feared that he. Though sprung from him who rules the restless sea, Should meet an evil fate at Juno's hands : Therefore he sent for men from many lands, Marble and wood, and gold and brass enow, And day by day, with many a sounding blow, The masons wrought, until at last was reared A temple to the Goddess that he feared ; — A wonder among temples, for the stone That made it, and the gold that therein shone. 200 And in the midst her image Pelias set. Wrought cunningly of purest gold, which yet Had served him better in his treasury, So little store the Goddess set thereby. Moreover to Dodona, where the doves Amid the oak-trees murmur of their loves. He sent a messenger to know his fate ; Who, up the temple steps, beneath the weight Of precious things went bending ; and being come Back from the north to his Thessalian home, 210 Gave forth this answer to the doubtful king : — ' Pelias, fearful of so many a thing, Sit merry o'er thy wine, sleep safe and soft. Within thy golden bed ; for surely oft The snows shall fall before the half -shod man Can come upon thee through the water wan.' So at this word the king along the shore Built many a tower, and ever more and more Drew men unto him skilled in spear and bow ; And through the streets full often would he go 220 Beset with guards, and for the rest began 218 ever] stiU 183-261 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 319 To be a terror unto every man. And yet indeed were all these things but vain, For at the foot of Pelion grew his bane In strength and comeliness from day to day, And swiftly passed his childish years away : Unto whom Chiron taught the worthy lore Of elders who the wide world filled before ; And how to forge his iron arrow-heads ; And how to find within the marshy steads 230 The stoutest reeds, and from some slain bird's wing To feather them, and make a deadly thing ; And through the woods he took him, nor would spare To show him how the just-awakened bear Came hungry from his tree, or show him how The spotted leopard's lurking-place to know ; And many a time they brought the hart to bay, Or smote the boar at hottest of the day. Now was his dwelling-place a fair-hewn cave. Facing the south : thereto the herdsmen drave 240 Full oft to Chiron woolly sheep, and neat. And brought him wine and garden-honey sweet, And fruits that flourish well in the fat plain. And cloth and linen, and ^\ould take again Skins of slain beasts, and little lumps of gold, Washed from the high crags : then would Chiron hold. Upon the sunny lawns, high feast with them, And garland all about the ancient stem Of some great tree, and there do sacrifice Unto the Gods, and with grave words and wise 250 Tell them sweet tales of elders passed away : But for some wished thing every man would pray Or ever in their hands the steel did shine, And or the sun lit up the bubbling wine ; Then would they fall to meat, nor would they leave Their joyances, until the dewy eve Had given good heart unto the nightingale To tell the sleepy wood-nymphs all his tale. Moreover, Chiron taught him how to cast His hand across the lyre, until there passed 260 Such sweetness through the woods, that all about 320 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON i The wood-folk gathered, and the merry rout That called on Bacchus, hearkening, stayed awhile. And in the chase the hunter, with a smile, From his raised hand let fall the noisy horn. When to his ears the sweet strange sound was borne. But in the night-time once did Jason wake, And seem to see the moonlit branches shake With huge, unwonted clamour of the chase ; Then up he sprung, but ere he went one pace 270 Unto the cave's mouth, Chiron raised his arm And drew him back, and said ; ' Surely, no charm Thou hast, my son, against Diana's sight, Who over Pelion goes abroad this night ; Now let those go to her that she doth call. Because no fenced town, brazen gate or wall. No coat of mail, or seven-folded shield. Can guard thee from the wound that ne'er is healed. When she is angry. Sleep again, my son, Nor wish to spoil great deeds not yet begun.' 280 Then Jason lay and trembled, while the sound Grew louder through the moonlit woods around, And died off slowly, going toward the sea. Leaving the fern-owl wailing mournfully. Thereafter wandering lonely did he meet A maid, with girt-up gown and sandalled feet, Who joyously through flowering grass did go. Holding within her hand an unstrung bow ; And, setting eyes on her, he thought, indeed, This must be she that made Actseon bleed ; 290 For, certes, ere that day he had not seen Within that wild, one made so like a queen. So, doubtful, he held back, nor dared to love Her rosy feet, or ivory knees above. And, with half-lifted eyes, could scarcely dare To gaze upon her eyes or golden hair. Or hidden bosom : but she called aloud, — ' Tell me, fair youth, if thou hast seen a crowd Of such as I go through these woods to-day ? ' And when his stammering tongue no word could say. She smiled upon him, and said, ' Who art thou, 301 262-338 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 321 Who seemest fitter from some galley's prow To lead the heroes on the merchant-town, Than through the wilds to hunt the poor beasts down, Or underneath the canopy to sit, Than by the beech to watch the cushat flit ? Speak out, and fear not.' 0, my queen ! ' said he, ' Fair Goddess, as thou seemest well to be. Give me good clays and peace, and maiden's love, And let great kings send out their sons to rove ; 310 But as for me, my name is little known, I am but Jason, who dwell here alone With Chiron in the hollow mountain-side, Wishful for happy days, whate'er betide.' ' Jason,' she said, ' all folk shall know thy name, For verily the Gods shall give thee fame. Whatever they keep back from thee : behold Restless thou shalt be, as thou now art bold ; And cunning, as thou now art skilled to watch The crafty bear, and in the toils to catch 320 The grey-maned yellow lion ; and now see Thou doest my commands, for certainly I am no mortal ; so to Chiron tell No longer is it fitting thou shouldst dwell Here in the wilds, but in a day or two. Clad in Magnesian garments, shalt thou go Unto lolchos, and there claim thine own. And unto thee shall Chiron first make known The story of thy father and thy kin. That thou mayst know what right thou hast herein. And say to him, I bid him do this thing, 331 By this same token, that the silver ring Upon mine altar, with Sidero's blood Is spotted still, and that the half-charred wood My priests had lighted early on that day. Yet lies thereon, by no flame burnt away.' Then Jason fell a trembling, and to him The tall green stems grew wavering and dim : 309 maiden's] fair girl's 333 mine] my MORRBS Y 322 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON i. 339 And when a fresh gust of the morning breeze Came murmuring along the forest trees, 340 And woke him as from dreaming, all alone He stood, and with no farewell she was gone. Leaving no traces of her dainty feet. But through the leaves ambrosial odours sweet Yet floated as he turned to leave the place, And with slow steps, and thinldng on his case. Went back to Chiron, whom at rest he found. Half sleeping on the sunny thyme-strewn ground, To whom he told the things that he had heard, With flushed and eager face, for they had stirred 350 New thoughts within him of the days to come, So that he longed to leave his woodland home. Then Chiron said : ' O fair son, thou shalt go. Since now, at last, the Gods will have it so : And know that, till thou comest to the end Of thy loved life, shall Juno be thy friend. Because the lovely huntress thou did see Late in the greenwood certainly was she Who sits in heaven beside Almighty Jove, And noble things they do that have her love. 360 ' Now, son, to-day I rede thee not to go. Nor yet to-morrow, for clouds great and slow Are gathering round the hill-tops, and I think The thirsty fields full many a draught will drink ; Therefore to-day our cups shall not be dry, But we will sit together, thou and I, And tales of thy forefathers shalt thou hear, And many another, till the heavens clear.' So was it as the Centaur said ; for soon The woods grew dark, as though they knew no noon ; The thunder growled about the high brown hills, 371 And the thin, wasted, shining summer rills Grew joyful with the coming of the rain. And doubtfully was shifting every vane On the town spires, with changing gusts of wind ; Till came the storm-blast, furious and blind, 347-8 Went back to Cheiron, whom he found laid there, Half sleeping on the thymy herbage fair, n.i2 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 323 'Twixt gorges of the mountains, and drove back The light sea breeze ; then waxed the heavens black, Until the lightning leapt from cloud to cloud, With clattering thunder, and the ]5iled up crowd 380 Began to turn from steely blue to grey, And toward the sea the thunder drew away. Leaving the north-wind blowing steadily The rain clouds from Olympus ; while the sea Seemed mingled with the low clouds and the rain ; And one might think that never now again The sunny grass would make a pleasant bed For tired limbs, and dreamy, languid head Of sandalled nymph, forewearied with the chase. Meantime, within a pleasant lighted place, 390 Stretched upon warm skins, did the Centaur lie, And nigh him Jason, listening eagerly The tales he told him, asking, now and then, Strange questions of the race of vanished men : Nor were the wine-cups idle ; till at last Desire of sleep over their bodies passed, And in their dreamless rest the wind in vain Howled round about, with washing of the rain. 398 BOOK II Jason claims his own — Pelias tells about the Golden Fleece — Jason vows the quest thereof. So there they lay until the second dawn Broke fair aiid 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 An iron-hilted sword hung carefully ; And on his head he had 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 10 The tokens of his birth, the ring and horn. And so stept forth into the sunny morn, Y 2 324 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON n 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 came out to 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 20 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 and 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 30 To see if help was nigh, and heard a voice Behind him, calling out, ' Fair youth, rejoice That I am here to help, or certainly Long time a dweller hereby shouldst thou be.' Then Jason turned round quickly, and beheld A woman, bent with burdens and with eld, Grey and broad shouldered ; so he laughed, and said : ' 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 ; 40 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 a-nigh, And raised him in her long arms easily, And stept adown into the water cold. There with one arm the hero did she hold, 50 And with the other thrust the whirling trees i3^o THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 325 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 stream 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. 60 So when she had clomb up the slippery bank And let him go, well-nigh adown he sank. For he was dizzy with the Mashing 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 lady clad in blue, all 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 70 With unsoiled feet scarce touching the wet way. He trembled sore, but thercMith heard her say : — ' 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 80 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 kingl}' part. ' Now to the king's throne this day draAV 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 90 86 have I] I have 326 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ii 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 jo's^ul, for I go, Unto the people, many a thing to show, loo 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 lolchos, 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 ; no 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, 120 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 about Him who his sire had wronged. But when he stood within that busy stead, Taller he showed than any by a head, Great limbed, broad shouldered, mightier than all, But soft of speech, though unto him did fall 124 Him] him 9I-I66 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 327 Full many a scorn upon that day to get. So in a while he came where there was set 130 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, that ere that day For many a peaceful year he had not felt, And his hand fell upon his swordless belt ; 140 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, 150 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 ^son'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 iEtolian guards, upon his ears There fell the clashing of the people's spears ; 160 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 ; ' 132 o'er] on 328 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ii Then spoke aloud : ' man, what wouldst thou here, That beardest thus a king with little fear ? ' ' Pelias,' he said, ' I will not call thee king, Because thy crown is but a stolen thing, 170 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 Alcimide ; 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, 180 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 i^son'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, 190 And have instead my brother's love again, I lost, to win a troublous thing and vain ; And yet, since now thou showest me such goodwill, Fain would I be a king a short while still. That everything in order I may set. Nor any man thereby may trouble get. And now I bid thee stand by me to-day. And cast all fear and troublous thoughts away ; And for thy father iEson will I send, That I may see him as a much-loved friend, 200 Now that these years of bitterness are passed. And peaceful days are come to me at last.' With that, from out the press grave ^son 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 ; 167-244 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 329 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 Mson, hail, happy man ! 210 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 1 Behold the tokens Chiron gave to me When first he said that I was sprung from thee.' 220 Then little of those signs did Mson reck, But cast his arms about the hero's neck. And kissed him oft, remembering well the time AVhen as he sat beneath the flowering lime Beside his house, the glad folk to him came And said : ' 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, 230 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 t€ars ran On to the raiment of the goodly man ; Until at last he said : ' All honour now To Jove and all the Gods ! Surel}', I know, 240 Henceforth my name shall never perish ; yet But little joj^ of this man shall I get. For through the wide world where will be the king Who will not fear him ; nor shall an3'thing 212 this fair hour] this hour 330 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ii 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. 250 ' And as for thee, 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 ought, then on my head Be every curse that thou canst ever think ; And dying, of an ill draught may I drink, 260 For in my mind is naught 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 morning's flowers have fallen down, 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 fires roar About the stalled ox and the woodland boar ; 270 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, if 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, 280 Saddened by that, which makes us elders glad.' Such good words said he, but the thoughts were bad 250 Of evil men, and heal some great king's wrongs. 245-323 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 331 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 290 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 ; 300 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 : ' ye Who rule the world, grant us felicity This hour, at least, nor let our sweet delight Be marred by aught, until the silent night 310 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 loveh^ 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, 320 If here and there an eager hand still held By gown or wrist, whom the young prince beheld With longmg eyes that roved about the hall. 332 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON n Now longer did the cool grey shadows fall, And faster drew the sun unto the west, And in the field the husbandman, opprest With twelve hours' labour, turned unto his home, And to the fold the woolly sheep were come ; And in the hall the folk began to tell Stories of men of old, who bore them well, 330 And piteous tales. And Jason in mean while Sat listening as his uncle, with a smile, Kept pouring many a thing into his ears. Now worthy laughter, and now meet for tears. Until at last, when twilight was nigh gone, And dimly through the place the gold outshone. He bade them bring in torches, and while folk Blinked on the glare that through the pillars broke, He said to Jason : ' Yet have I to tell One tale I would that these should hear as well 340 As you, O Prince.' And therewith did he call The herald, bidding him throughout the hall Cry silence for the story of the king. And this being done, and all men listening, He rose and said, ' noble Minyse, Right prosperous and honoured may ye be ; When Athamas ruled over Thebes the great. Upon his house there fell a heavy fate. Making his name a mere byword ; for he, B3ing wedded to the noble Nephele, 350 Gat on her a bold youth and tender maid, Phryxus and Helle ; but, being naught afraid Of what the righteous Gods might do to him. And seeing Ino, fair of face and limb Beyond all other, needs with her must wed, And to that end drove from his royal bed Unhappy Nephele, who now must be A slave, where once she governed royally ; While white -foot Ino smiling sat alone By Athamas upon the ivory throne. 360 351 bold] fair 359 While the white-footed Ino sat alone 3^4-398 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 333 ' And now, as time went on, did Ino bear To Athamas two children hale and fair ; Therefore, the more increased her enmity Against those two erst born of Nephele, Who yet, in spite of all things, day by day Grew lovelier as their sad lives wore away ; Till Ino thought, " What help will it have been. That through these years I have been called a queen. And set gold raiment on my children dear. If Athamas should die and leave me here 37° Betwixt the people and this Nephele, With those she bore ? What then could hap to me But death or shame ? for then, no doubt, would reign Over this mighty town the children twain ; With her who once was queen still standing near. And whispering fell words in her darlings' ear. And then what profit would it be that they Have won through me full many an evil day ; That Phryxus base and servile deeds doth know. Unmeet for lords ; that many a shame and woe, 380 Helle has borne, and yet is wont to stand, Shrinking with fear, before some dreaded hand ; If still the ending of it must be this, That I must die while they live on in bliss. And cherish her that first lay in my bed ? Nor is there any help till they be dead." ' Then did she fall on many an evil thought, And going thence, with threats and money brought The women of the land to do this thing : In the mid-winter, yea, before the spring 390 Was in men's minds, they took the good seed corn, And while their husbands toiled in the dark morn. And dreaded naught, they throughly seethed it all ; Whereby this seeming portent did befall, That neither the sweet showers of April tide. Nor the May sunshine, gleaming far and wide Over the meadows, made their furrows green. Nor yet in June was any young shoot seen. 366 lovelier] fairer 334 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON n Then drew the country folk unto the king, Weeping and wailing, telling of the thing, 400 And praying him to satisfy the God, Whoe'er he was, who with this cruel rod So smote his wretched people : whereon he Bade all his priests inquire solemnly What thing had moved the Gods to slay them thus ? Who, hearing all this story piteous. Because their hands had felt Queen Ino's gold, And itched for more, this thing in answer told : — ■ ' That great Diana with Queen Nephele Was wroth beyond all measure, for that she, 410 Being vowed unto the Goddess, none the less Cast by the quiver and the girt-up dress. To wed with Athamas, the mighty king, Therefore must she pay forfeit for the thing. And though she still should keep her wretched life, Yet must she give her children to the knife. Or else this dearth should be but happiness To what should come, for she would so oppress The land of Thebes, that folk who saw its name In old records, would turn the page, and blame 420 The chronicler for telling empty lies, And minghng fables with his histories. ' Therefore is Athamas a wretched man To hear this tale, and doeth what he can To save his flesh and blood, but all in vain ; Because the people, cruel in their pain. With angry words were thronging the great hall. And crafty Ino at his feet did fall. Saying, " Oh, King, I pray for these, and me. And for my children." Therefore, mournfully 430- He called the priests again, and bade them say. In few words, how his children they would slay. And when the dreadful bearer of the bow Would best be pleased to see their young blood flow. Who said, " that if the thing were quickly done, Seeing the green things were not wholly gone, The ruined fields might give a little food, And that high noon-tide the next day was good. 399-478 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 335 Above all other hours, to do the thing ; " And thereupon they prayed unto the king, 440 To take the younglings, lest, being fled away. They still might live and leave an evil day To Thebes and all its folk henceforth to bear. ' Then men were sent, who by the river fair Found Phryxus casting nets into the stream. Who, seeing them coming, little harm did deem They meant him, and with welcome bade them share The glittering heap of fishes that lay there. But they with laughter fell at once on him, Who, struggling wrathfully, broke here a limb 450 And there a head, but lastly on the ground Being felled by many men, was straightly bound. And in an iron-bolted prison laid, While to the house they turned to seek the maid. ' Whom soon they found, within the weaving-room, Bent earnestly above the rattling loom. Working not like a king's child, but a slave Who strives her body from the scourge to save. On her they seized, speechless for very fear, And dragged her trembling to the prison drear, 460 Where lay her brother, and there cast her in, Giddy and fainting, wondering for what sin She suffered this ; but, finding Phryxus laid In the same dismal place, the wretched maid Bewailed with him the sorrows of their life, Praying the Gods to show the king's new wife What sorrow was, nor let her hair grow grey Ere in some hopeless place her body lay. ' Now in that court a certain beast there was. The gift of Neptune to King Athamas, 470 A mighty ram, greater than such beasts be In any land about the Grecian sea ; And in all else a wonder to men's eyes, For from his shoulders did two wings arise, That seemed as they were wrought of beaten gold, And all his fleece was such as in no fold The shepherd sees, for all was gold indeed. And now this beast with dainty grass to feed, 336 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON n The task of Nephele had late been made, Who, nothing of the mighty ram afraid, 480 Would bring him flowering trefoil day by day, And comb his fleece ; and her the ram would pay With gentle bleatings, and would lick her hand, As in his well-built palace he did stand. For all the place was made of polished wood, Studded with gold ; and, when he thought it good, Within a little meadow could he go. Throughout the midst whereof a stream did flow. And at the corners stood great linden-trees, Hummed over by innumerable bees. 490 • So on the morning when these twain should die, Stole Nephele to this place quietly And loosed the ram, and led him straight away Unto Diana's temple, where that day Her heart should break unless the Gods were good. There with the ram, close in a little wood, She hid herself a-nigh the gates, till noon Should bring those to the Lady of the Moon She longed to see ; and as the time drew nigh. She knelt, and with her trembling hands did tie 5°° About the gold beast's neck a mystic thing. And in his ears, meanwhile, was murmuring Words taught her by the ever-changing God, Who on the sands at noon is wont to nod Beside the flock of Neptune ; till at last Upon the breeze the sound of flutes went past ; Then sore she trembled, as she held the beast By the two golden horns, but never ceased Her mystic rhyme ; and louder, and more loud The music sounded, till the solemn crowd 5^° Along the dusty road came full in sight. First went the minstrels, clad in raiment white. Both men and maids garlanded daintily ; And then ten damsels, naked from the knee, Who in their hands bare bows done round with leaves, And arrows at their backs in goodly sheaves 489 And at the corners were there great lime-trees. 479-554 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 337 Gaudily feathered, ready for the strife ; Then came three priests, whereof one bore the knife, One a great golden bowl to hold the blood, And one a bundle of some sacred wood ; 520 And then was left a little vacant space, And then came gold, and therewithal the face Of beauteous Ino, flushed and triumphing, And by her, moody and downcast, the king. ' And now her heart beat quick and fast indeed, Because the two came, doomed that day to bleed Over the grey bark of the hallowed wood, Of whom went Phryxus in most manly mood, Looking around, with mournful, steady eyes, Upon the green fields and the braveries, 530 And all he never thought to see again. But Helle, as she went, could not refrain From bitter wailing for the days gone by. When hope was mixed with certain misery ; And, when the long day's task and fear was done, She might take pleasure sometimes in the sun. Whose rays she saw now glittering on the knife That in a little time should end her life, ' Now she, who in coarse raiment had been clad For many a year, upon her body had, 540 On this ill day, a golden pearl-wrought gown, And on her drooping head a glittering crown, And jewelled sandals on her fainting feet, And on her neck and bosom jewels meet For one who should be wedded to a king ; Thus to her death went moaning this sweet thing. ' But when they drew a-nigh the temple gate The trembling, weeping mother, laid in wait. Let go the mighty beast upon the throng, — Like as a hunter holds the gazehound long, 55c Until the great buck stalks from out the herd, And then, with well-remembered hunting word. Slips the stout leash, — so did she slip the beast, Who dashed aside both singing-man and priest, 522 therewithal] she could see 527 This line was not in the first edition. 538 should] would MORRIS 55 338 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON n And girded maiden, and the startled king, And Ino, grown all pale to see the thing. With rising horror in her evil heart. And thereon Phryxus, seeing the close crowd part, And this deliverer nigh him, with wings spread Ready for flight, and eager threatening head, 560 Without more words, upon his broad back sprung, And drew his sister after him, who clung With trembling arms about him ; and straightway They turned unto the rising of the day. And over all rose up into the air With sounding wings ; nor yet did any dare. As fast thej'^ flew, to bend on them a bow. Thinking some God had surely willed it so. ' Then went the king unto his house again, And Ino with him, downcast that the twain 570 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 armed paws. The treacherous beast across the strained throat draws Of some poor fawn ; and when he saw her go Across the hall, her footsteps soft and slow 580 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, with cheeks all drained of rosy blood ; 590 Who straightway caught her raiment up, and fled Adown the streets, where once she had been led 558 the close crowd] the crowd 555-630 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 339 In triumph by the man whose well-known cheer Close at her heels, now struck such deadly 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. 600 ' 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 any one 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 610 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 murmuring sea. " 62: Nor sta.yed 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, 630 597 were] was Z 2 340 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON n 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 and 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 640 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, in her golden robes enwound. 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 650 Of beech and oak, with scented things around. And, lifting up the poor corpse from the ground, Laid it thereon, and there did everything, As for the daughter of a mighty king. ' But through the straits passed Phryxus, sad enow, And fearful of the wind that by his brow Went shrieking, as, without all stop or stay, The golden wings still bore him on his way Above the unlucky waves of that ill sea That foamed beneath his feet unceasingly. 660 Nor knew he to what land he was being borne, Whether he should be set, unarmed, forlorn, In darksome lands, among unheard-of things. Or, stepping off from 'twixt the golden wings, Should set foot in some happy summer isle, Whereon the kind unburning sun doth smile 635 did she grow] grew her hmbs 636 her] their 631-704 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 341 For ever, and that knows no frost or drought ; Or else, it seemed to hira, he might be brought Unto green forests where the wood-nymphs play With their wild mates, and fear no coming day. 670 And there might he forget both crown and sword. And e'en the names of slave, and king, and lord, And lead a merry life, till all was done, And 'mid the green boughs, marked by no carved stone, His unrememberetl bones should waste away, In dew, and rain, and sunshine, day by day. ' So, 'mid these thoughts, still clinging fearfully Unto his dizzy seat, he passed the sea, And reached a river opening into it. Across the which the white-winged fowl did flit 680 From cliff to cliff, and on the sandy bar The fresh waves and the salt waves were at war, At turning of the tide. Forth flew they then, Till they drew nigh a strange abode of men, Far up the river, white-walled, fair, and great. And at each end of it a brazen gate, Wide open through the daylight, guarded well ; And nothing of its name could Phryxus tell, But hoped the beast would stop, for to his eyes The place seemed fair ; nor fell it otherwise. 690 There stayed the ram his course, and lighted down Anigh the western gate of that fair town, And on the hard way Phryxus joyfully Set foot, full dizzy with the murmuring sea. Numbed by the cold wind ; and, with little fear, Unto the guarded gate he drew anear, While the gold beast went ever after him. ' But they, beholding him so strong of limb, And fair of face, and seeing the beast that trod Behind his back, deemed him some wandering God, So let the two-edged sword hang by the side, 701 And by the wall the well-steeled spear abide. ' But he called out to them, " What place is this ? And who rules over you for woe or bliss ? 692 Anigh] Hard by 702 spear] spears 342 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ii And will he grant me peace to-day or war ? And may I here abide, or still afar Must I to new abodes go wandering ? " ' Now as he spake those words, that city's king Adown the street was drawing toward the gate, Clad in gold raiment worthy his estate, 710 Therefore one said : " Behold, our king is here, Who of all us is held both lief and dear ; iEetes, leader of a mighty host. Feared by all folk along the windy coast. And since this city's name thou fain wouldst know, Men call it iEa, built long years ago, Holpen of many Gods, who love it well. Now come thou to the king, and straightway tell Thy name and country, if thou art a man, And how thou camest o'er the water wan, 720 And what the marvel is thou hast with thee ; But if thou art a God, then here will we Build thee a house, and, reverencing thy name, Bring thee great gifts and much-desired fame." ' Thus spake he, fearful ; but by this the king Had reached the place, and stood there wondering At that strange beast and fair man richly clad, Who at his belt no sort of weapon had ; Then spoke he : " Who art thou, in what strange wain Hast thou crossed o"er the green and restless plain 730 Unharvested of any ? And this thing. That like an image stands with folded wing, Is he a gift to thee from any God, Or hast thou in some unknown country trod, Where beasts are such-like ? Howsoe'er it be, Here shalt thou dwell, if so thou wilt, with me, Unless some God is chasing thee, and then. What wouldst thou have us do, who are but men. Against the might of Gods ? " Then answered he : " O king, I think no God is wrath with me, 740 But rather some one loves me ; for, behold, A while ago, just as my foe did hold 709 toward] towards 718 straightway] straightly 705-780 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 343 A knife against my throat, there came this ram, Who brought me to the place where now I am Safe from the sea and from the bitter knife. And in this city would I spend my life, And do what service seemeth good to thee. Since all the Gods it pleases I should be Outcast from friends and country, though alive ; Nor with their will have I the heart to strive 750 More than thou hast ; and now as in such wise I have been saved, fain would I sacrifice This beast to Jove, the helper of all such. As false friends fail, or foes oppress too much." " Yea," said iEetes, " so the thing shall be In whatsoever fashion pleaseth thee ; And long time mayst thou dwell with us in bliss, Not doing any service worse than this. To bear in war my royal banner forth. When fall the wild folk on us from the north. 760 Come now this eve, and hold high feast with us, And tell us all of strange and piteous Thy story hath." So went he with the king. And gladly told unto him everything That had befallen him, and in a grove. Upon the altar of the Saving Jove, They offered up the ram the morrow morn That thitherward the Theban prince had borne. ' And thenceforth Phi-yxus dwelt in Colchis long In wealth and honour, and being brave and strong. Won great renown in man}^ a bloody fray, 77^ And still grew greater ; and both night and day. Within his pillared house, upon the wall Hung the gold fell ; until it did befall That in iEetes' heart a longing grew To have the thing, yea, even if he slew His guest to get it ; so, one evil night, ' While the prince lay and dreamed about the fight. With all armed men was every entry filled. And quickly were the few doorkeepers killed ; 780 743 A knife] The knife 844 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ii And Phryxus, roused with clamour from his bed, Half -armed and dizzy, with few strokes was dead. And thus the king ^Eetes had his will, And thus the Golden Fleece he keepeth still Somewhere within his royal house of gold. ' And thus, Minyse, is the story told Of things that happened forty years agone ; Nor of the Greeks has there been any one To set the Theban's bones Avithin a tojnb. Or to JEetes mete out his due doom ; 790 And yet indeed, it seemeth unto me That many a man would go right willingly, And win great thanks of men and godlike fame, If there should spring up some great prince of name To lead them ; and I pray that such an one, Before my head is laid beneath a stone, Be sent unto us by the Gods above.' Therewith he ceased ; but all the hall did move As moves a grove of rustling poplar trees Bowed all together by the shifting breeze, 800 And through the place the name of Jason ran, Nor, 'mid the f casters, was there any man But toward the hero's gold -seat turned his eyes. Meanwhile, in Jason's heart did thoughts arise That brought the treacherous blood into his cheek, And he forgot his father, old and weak. Left 'twixt the fickle people of the land And wily Pelias, while he clenched his hand, As though it held a sword, about his cup. Then, 'mid the murmuring, Pelias stood up 810 And said : ' 0, leaders of the Minyae, I hear ye name a name right dear to me — My brother's son, who in the oaken wood Has grown up nurtured of the Centaur good. And now this day has come again to us. Fair faced and mighty limbed, and amorous Of fame and glorious deeds ; nowise content Betwixt the forest and the northern bent 781-856 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 345 To follow up the antlers of the deer, Nor in his eyes can I see any fear 820 Of fire, or water, or the cleaving sword. ' Now, therefore, if ye take him for your lord Across the sea then surely will ye get Both fame and wealth, nor will men soon forget To praise the noble city whence ye came. Passing from age to age each hero's name.' Then all stood up and shouted, and the king, While yet the hall with Jason's name did ring, Set in his hands a gleaming cup of gold. And said : ' Jason, wilt thou well behold 830 These leaders of the people, who are fain To go with thee and suffer many a pain And deadly fear, if they may win at last Undying fame when fleeting life is past ? And now, if thou art willing to be first Of all these men, of whom, indeed, the worst Is like a God, pour out this gleaming wine To him with whose light all the heavens shine Almighty Jove.' Then Jason poured, and said : ' Jove, by thy hand may all these be led 840 To name and wealth ! and yet, indeed, for me. What happy ending shall I ask from thee ? What helpful friends ? a\ hat length of quiet years ? What freedom from ill care and deadly fears ? Do what thou wilt, but none the less believe That all these things and more thou shouldst receive, If thou wert Jason, I were Jove to-day. ' And ye who now are hot to play this play, Seeking the fleece across an unknown sea, Bethink ye yet of death, and misery, 850 And dull despair, before ye arm to go Unto a savage king and folk none know, Whence it may well hap none of ye to come Again unto your little ones and home. ' And do thou, Pelias, ere we get us forth. Send heralds out, east, west, and south, and north, 823 will ye] ye will 346 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ii. 857 And with them cunning men, of golden speech, Thy tale unto the Grecian folk to teach ; That we may lack for neither strength nor wit, For many a brave man like a fool will sit 860 Beside the council board ; and men there are Wise -hearted who know little feats of war ; Nor would I be without the strength of spears, Or waste wise words on dull and foolish ears. ' Also we need a cunning artizan, Taught by the Gods, and knowing more than man. To build us a good ship upon this shore. Then, if but ten lay hold upon the oar. And I, the eleventh, steer them toward the east, To seek the hidden fleece of that gold beast, 870 I swear to Jove that only in my hand The fleece shall be, when I again take land To see my father's hall, or the green grass O'er which the grey Thessalian horses pass. ' But now, friends, forget all till the morn With other thoughts and fears is duly born ! ' He ceased, and all men shouted ; and again They filled their cups, and many a draught did drain. But Pelias gazed with heedful eyes at him. Nor drank the wine that well-nigh touched the brim Of his gold cup ; and, noting every word, 881 Thought well that he should be a mighty lord, For now already like a king he spoke. Gazing upon the wild tumultuous folk As one who knows what troubles are to come And in this world looks for no peaceful home, — So much he dreaded what the Gods might do. But i3^son, when he first heard Pelias, knew What wile was stirring, and he sat afeard. With sinking heart, as all the tale he heard ; 890 But after, hearkening what his son did say, He deemed a God spoke through him on that day. And held his peace ; yet to himself he said : ' And if he wins all, still shall I be dead Ere on the shore he stands beside the fleece, III. 18 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 347 The greatest and most honoured man in Greece.' But Jason, much rejoicing in his life, Drank and was merry, longing for the strife ; Though in his heart he did not fail to see His uncle's cunning wiles and treachery ; 900 But thought, when sixty years are gone, at most, Then will all pleasure and all pain be lost ; Although my name, indeed, be cast about From hall to temple, amid song and shout : So let me now be merry with the best. Meanwhile, all men spoke hotly of the quest, And healths they drank to many an honoured man, Until the moon sank, and the stars waxed wan, And from the east faint yellow light outshone O'er the Greek sea, so many years agone. 910 BOOK III The Argonauts called together. Now the next morn, when risen was the sun, Men 'gan to busk them for the quest begun ; Nor long delay made Pelias, being in fear Lest aught should stay them ; so his folk did bear News of these things throughout the towns of Greece, Moving great men to seek the golden fleece. Therefore, from many a lordship forth the}^ rode. Leaving both wife and child and loved abode, And many a town must now be masterless. And women's voices rule both more and less, 10 And women's hands be dreaded, far and wide, This fair beginning of the summer-tide. Now, all the folk who went upon this quest I cannot name, but fain would hope the best In men's remembrance ancient tales did keep Unto our time, letting the others sleep In nameless graves — though, mayhap, one by one, These grew to be forgotten 'neath the sun, 348 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON m Being neither poor of heart, or weak of wit, More than those others whose crowned memories sit Enthroned amid the echoing minstrelsy 21 Sung of old time beside the Grecian sea. Howe'er it be, now clinging to the hem Of those old singers, will I tell of thera. In weak and faltering voice, e'en as I can. Now Avas the well-skilled Argus the first man Who through the gates into lolchos passed Whose lot in fertile Egypt first was cast. The nurse of Gods and wonder-working men ; His father's name was Danaus, who till then 30 Had held the golden rod above the Nile, Feared by all men for force and deadly wile. So he, being brought to Jason, said : ' King, Me have the Gods sent here to do the thing Ye need the most ; for truly have I seen, "Twixt sleep and waking, one clad like a queen, About whose head strange light shone gloriously, Stand at my bed's foot, and she said to me : " Argus, arise, when dawn is on the earth, And go unto a city great of girth 40 Men call lolchos, and there ask for one W^ho now gets ready a great race to run Upon a steed whose maker thou shalt be, And whose course is the bitter trackless sea, — ■ Jason, the king's son, now himself a king ; — And bid him hearken, by this tokening. That I, who send thee to him, am the same Who in the greenwood bade him look for fame That he desired little ; and am she Who, when the eddies rushed tumultuously 50 About us, bore him to the river side : — And unto thee shall such-like things betide " ' Therewith she told me many a crafty thing About this keel that ye are now lacking, Bidding me take thee for my king and lord. And thee to heed my counsel as her word As for this thing. So if ye would set forth 19-94 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 349 Before the winter takes us from the north, I i)ray 3^011 let there be at my commands Such men as are most skilful of their hands, 60 Nor spare to take lintel, rooftree, or post Of ash or pine, or oak that helioeth most. From whoso in this city lacketh gold ; And chiefly take the post that now doth hold The second rafter in the royal hall, That I may make the good ship's prow Avithal, For soothly from Dodona doth it come. Though men forget it, the grey pigeons' home. ' So look to see a marvel, and forthright Set on the smiths the sounding brass to smite, 70 For surely shall all ye your armour need Before these close flower-buds have turned to seed.' Then Jason gave him thanks and gifts enow. And through the town sought all who chanced to know The woodwTight's craft, by whom was much begun. Whilst he took gifts of wood from many an one, And getting timber with great gifts of gold, Spared not to take the great post used to hold The second rafter in the royal hall To make the new ship's goodly prow withal. 80 So Argus laboured, and the work was sped Moreover, by a man with hoary head, Whose dwelling and whose name no man could know, Who many a secret of the craft did show, And 'mid their work men gazed at him askance. Half fearful of his reverend piercing glance, But did his bidding ; yet knew not, indeed, It was the Queen of Heaven, Saturn's seed. Meanwhile came many heroes to the town : — Asterion, dweller on the windy down 90 Below Philseus, far up in the north ; Slow-footed Polyphemus, late borne forth In chariot from Larissa, that beholds Green-winding Peneus cleaving fertile wolds ; 72 these close flower-buds] these flower-buds 84 secret] strange thing 350 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON in Erginus, son of Neptune, nigh the sea His father set him, where the laden bee Flies low across Maeander, and falls dowii Against the white walls of a merchant to\^Ti Men call Miletus. Behind him there came The winner of a great and dreaded name, loo Theseus, the stayer of the fearful beast. Who soon in winding halls should make his feast On youths and maidens ; and with him there rode The king Pirithous, who his loved abode Amid the shady trees had left that tide Where fly the centaurs' arrows far and wide. Black-haired was Theseus, slim, and still his cheek Lacked all but down, for yet he had to seek The twisted ways of Daedalus the old ; But long and twining locks of ruddy gold no Blew round the face of the huge forest king, As carelessly he rode and feared no thing. Great joy had Jason, gazing on the twain. Young though they were, and thought that not in vain His quest should be, if such as these had will The hollow of his great black ship to fill. Next, threading Argive ways and woody lanes, Came Nauplius, son of Neptune, to those plains. Crossing Anaurus dryshod, for his sire With threats and blows drove up the land-stream higher, And sucked the sea- waves back across the sands ; j2i With him came Idmon, mighty of his hands, But mightier that he was skilled to know The counsel of the God who bears the bow, His very father, who bore not to see Unloved, C3rrene wandering carelessly Beside Peneus ; lolaus came From Argos, too, to win a deathless name ; And if thenceforth came any heroes more I know not, and their names have died of yore. 130 But from Arcadian forests came forth one Who like a goddess 'mid the rowers shone, f, 127 Beside Peneus] Beside the Peneus 95-171 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 351 Swift-running Atalanta, golden-haired, Grey-eyed, and simple ; with her white limbs bared, And sandalled feet set firm upon the sand. Amid the wondering heroes did she stand A very maid, yet fearing not for aught For she, with manj^ a vow, had dearly bought Diana's love, and in no flowery stead Had borne to hear love-songs, or laid her head 140 On any trembling lover's heaving breast ; Therefore of mortals was she loved the best By Her, who through the forest goes a-nights. And in return for never-tried delights, Has won a name no woman else can have. Next through the gates his car Oileus drave, The Locrian king, red-haired, with fierce grey eyes Wandering from right to left, as though some prize He sought for in the rich Thessalian land ; Then Iphiclus beside the gates did stand, 150 His kine at all adventure left at home, That on a doubtful voyage he might roam. Admetus from the well-walled Pherae came, Longing to add new glory to the fame Of him whose flocks Apollo once did keep. And then Echion, who would nowise sleep Amid Ephesian roses, or behold Betwixt gold cups and lovely things of gold The white limbs of the dancing-girl, her hair Swung round her dainty loins and bosom bare ; 160 But needs must try the hollow-sounding sea, As herald of the heroes, nor was he Left by his brother Eurytus the strong. Neither did Cseneus, the Magnesian, long Less than the others strange new lands to see, Though wondrous things Ave re told of him, — that he, Once woman, now was man by Neptune's aid. And thus had won a long-desired maid. From nigh Larissa came ^talides, Leaving a plain well-watered, set with trees, 170 That feeds much woolly sheep and lowing neat 158 lovely] dainty 352 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON in And knoweth well the dancing maiden's feet. Mopsus, like Idmon, knew of things to come, And had in Lipara a rocky home. Eurydamas, tired of the peaceful lake Of Xynias, was come for Jason's sake To lay his well-skilled hands upon the oar, Dealing with greater waves than heretofore. Menoetius, son of Actor, from the land Where swift Asopus runs through stones and sand, i8o Bridged by the street of Opus, next was seen. Eribotes, who through the meadows green Would wander oft to seek what helpeth man, Yet cannot cure his lust, through waters wan To seek for marvels, cometh after him. Then a rich man, grown old, but strong of limb, Eurytion, son of Iras, leaveth now His husbandmen still following of the plough In the fat Theban meadows, while he goes. Driven by fate, to suffer biting woes. 190 From (Echalia, Clytius the king. And Iphitus his brother, felt the sting That drives great men through woes to seek renown, And left their guarded city, looking down From rocky heights on the well-watered plain. Right Avise they were, and men say, not in vain | Before Apollo's court they claimed to be The first who strung the fatal cornel tree. And loosed the twanging bowstring from the ear. Then to the gate a chariot drew a-near, 200 Wherein two brothers sat, whereof the one Who held the reins was mighty Telamon ; And Peleus was the other's dreaded name. And from an island both the heroes came, Sunny ^Egina, where their father's hand Ruled o'er the people of a fruitful land ; But they now young, rejoicing in their birth, Dreamed not that, ere they lay beneath the earth, Still greater heroes from their loins should come, j The doomsmen of the Trojan's godlike home. 210 1 Fair Athens, and the olive groves thereby, | 172-251 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 353 Phalerus left, riding through deserts dry And rocky passes where no sweet birds sing ; And with him Butes, with the owlet's wing Well-painted on his shield ; and he, at least, Came back no more to share the joyous feast And pour out wine for well accomplished days, Who, all besotted with the Sjo-en's lays, Must leave his mates ; nor happier than he, Tiphys the pilot came, although the sea 220 Dealt gently with the ship whose ashen helm His hand touched ; in the rich Boeotian realm He left outlandish merceries stored up With many a brazen bowl and silver cup His heirs should feast from in the days to come. When men he knew not, went about his home. Next Phlias came, forgetful of the hill That bears his name, where oft the maidens fill Their baskets with the coal-black clustering grapes. Far on in autumn, when the parched earth gapes 230 For cool November rain and winter snow, For there his house stood, on the shaded brow Of that fair ridge that Bacchus loves so well. Then through the gates one with a lion's fell Hung o'er his shoulders, on a huge grey steed Came riding, with his fair Phoenician weed Glittering from underneath the tawny hair. Who loosely in his dreadful hand did bear A club of unknown wood bound round with brass. And underneath his curled black hair did pass 240 A golden circlet o'erwrought cunningly With running beasts ; so folk knew this was he That in Amphytrion's palace first saw light. And whose first hour began with deadly fight, Alcmena's son, the dreadful Hercules ; The man whose shout the close Nemean trees Had stifled, and the lion met in vain ; The ravisher of hell, the serpent's bane, Whom neither Gods nor fate could overwhelm. Now was he come to this Thessalian realm 250 To serve with Jason on the wandering seas, MORRIS X a 354 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iii Half seeking fame, half wishing to appease The wrath of her who grudged him ease and rest, Yet needs must see him of all men the best. Laughing he went, and with him on each hand There rode a squire from the Theban land ; Hylas was first, whose sire, Theodamas, Had given him worthy gifts of gold and brass. And gold -wrought arms, that he should see no more Glittering along the green Ismenian shore. 260 With him Ephebus came, who many a year Had backed the steed and cast the quivering spear In Theban meadows, but whose fathers came From Argos, and thereby had left their name. So through the streets like Gods they rode, but he Who rode the midmost of the glorious three O'ertopped them by a head ; and looking down With smiling face, whereon it seemed no frown Could ever come, showed like the king of all. Now coming to the palace, by the wall 270 Sat Jason, watching while an armourer wrought A golden crest according to his thought ; And round about the heroes were at play. Casting the quoit ; but on the well-paved way, With clanging arms, leapt down Alcmena's son Before the prince, and said : ' I who have won Some small renown, Jason, in this land. Come now to put my hand within your hand And be your man, if wide report says true, That even now with cinnabar and blue 280 Men paint your long ship's prow, and shave the oars With sharpened planes ; for soothly, other shores I fain would see than this fair Grecian one, Wherein great deeds already I have done : And if thou wiliest now to hear my name, A Theban queen my mother once became. And had great honour ; wherefore some men say That in Amphytrion's bed my mother lay When I was gotten ; and yet other some Say that a God upon that night did come 290 252-326 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 355 (Whose name I speak not), like unto the king, With whom Alcmena played, but nought witting. ' Nor I, nor others know the certainty Of all these things ; but certes, royally My brother rules at Thebes, whom all men call Amphytrion's son, in whose well-peopled hall, Right little loved of him and his, I eat. Nor does he grieve to see ray empty seat, Though, since my name is Hercules, the man Who owes me hatred iiides it if he can. 300 ' And now, prince, I bid thee take my hand, And hear me swear that till unto this land Thou hast borne back the fleece across the sea, Thy liege-man and thy servant I will be. Nor have I seen a man more like a king Than thou art, of whom minstrel folk shall sing In days to come when men sit by the wine.' Then Jason said : ' A happy lot is mine ! Surely the Gods must love me, since that thou Art come, with me the rough green plain to plough 310 That no man reaps ; yet certes, thou alone In after days shalt be the glorious one Whom men shall sing of when they name the fleece, That bore the son of Athamas from Greece, When I and all these men have come to nought.' So spake he ; but the great-eyed Juno brought His words to nothing, stooping to behold Jason's fair head, whereon the locks of gold Curled thick and close, and his grey eager eyes. That seemed already to behold the prize 320 In far-off Colchis : like a God he stood. No less than he that in the darksome wood Slew the lake-haunting, many-headed beast. But on that day the Minyse held a feast. Praising the Gods, and those that they had sent Across the sea to work out their intent. 297-8 One line only in first edition : Ever am I the least loved guest of all, A a 2 356 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON in Yea, ere the night, greater their joyance grew, For to the throng of heroes came there two, In nowise worse than any of the best, — Castor and Pollux, who thought not to rest 330 In woody Lacedaemon, where the doves Make summer music in the beechen groves, But rather chose to hear the sea-fowl sing. Their mother wedded Tyndarus the king. And yet a greater name their father had, As men deem ; for that Leda, all unclad, In cold Eurotas, on a summer morn. Bathed her fair body, unto whom was borne. Fleeing from seeming death, a milk-white swan, Whom straight the naked queen, not fearing man, 340 Took in her arms, nor knew she fostered Jove, Who rules o'er mortal men and Gods above. So in the hall of Pelias, in their place The twain sat down ; and joy lit every face. When both their names the sweet-voiced herald cried. But the next morn into the town did ride Lynceus and Idas, leaving far away Well-walled Messene where the kestrels play About the temples and the treasure-house. But of these twain was Idas valorous 350 Beyond most men, and hasty of his blow ; And unto Lynceus would the darkness show That which he lacked ; and of all men was he The luckiest to find the privity Of gold or gems. And on the self-same day Came Periclymenes, who folk did say Had Proteus' gift to change from shape to shape. Next from Tegea, where the long green grape Grows yellow in the dewy autumn night, There came Ancseus, stubborn in the fight. j6o Amphidamus and Apheus left the trees Where sing the wood-doves to their mistresses In the Arcadian forests ; and where oft. If through the springing brake he treadeth soft, The happy hunter may well chance to see Beside a hidden stream some two or three 327-405 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 357 Of tired nymphs, stripping the silken -weed From off their limbs ; nor shall Actaeon's meed Betide him there among the oaken trees. Next came there Augeas, who at Elis sees 370 On his fat plains the sheep, and kine, and beeves, Unnumbered as the rustling aspen leaves Beside the river : from the grassy plain Anigh Pellene, where the harvest wain Scatters the grazing sheep, Amphion came, In nowise skilled like him who bore his name, The deathless singer, but right wise in war. Then through the town there passed a brazen car Bearing Euphemus, who had power to go Dryshod across the plain no man doth sow. 3S0 By Tenarus he dwelt, beside the sea, Anigh the temple of the deity Whose son he was, the Shaker of the earth. Then came a fresh Ancaeus, who had birth In woody Samos, of the self-same sire Whose heart white-footed Alta set on fire. As on the yellow sands at dawn she went. Then Calydon the great a hero sent, The fair-haired Meleager, ^\•ho became. In after-days, the glory of his name, 39° The greatest name of the i^tolian land ; While j^et on him fate laid her heavy hand, In midst of all his glory so raised up. Who nounse now dreaded the proffered cup Of life and death she held for him to drain, Nor thought of death and wishes wished in vain. With him his uncle rode, Laocoon, No longer young, teaching his brother's son What 'longed to ruling men and unto war. From Lacedfemon, Iphiclus afar 400 Had travelled, till the rich embroidered weed His father Thestius gave him at his need Was stained with sun and dust, but still he came To try the sea and win undying fame. Then came a man long-limbed, in savage weed, 383 Shaker] shaker 358 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iii Areas the hunter, to whose unmatched speed All beasts that wander through the woods are slow. In his right hand he bare the fatal bow Of horn, and wood, and brass, but now unstrung, And at his back a well-closed quiver hung, 410 Done round with silver bands and leopard's skin, And fifty deaths were hidden well therein Of men or beasts ; for whoso stood before His bended bow and angry eyes, no more Should see the green trees and the fertile earth. Then came two brothers of a wondrous birth, Zetes and Calais, sons of Boreas ; For he beheld Erechtheus' daughter pass Along Ilissus, one bright windy day. Whom from amidst her maids he bore away 420 Unto the hills of Thrace to be his bride. Now unto them this marvel did betide. Like men in all else, from anigh the head Of each sprung wings, wherewith at will they sped From land to land, 'midst of the pathless air. Next from Magnesia did roan horses bear Phocus and Priasus, well skilled to cast The whistling dart ; then o'er the drawbridge passed ^tolian Palsemonius, who not yet Had seen men armed in anger, or steel wet 430 With blood of aught but beasts, but none the less Was willing now to stand among the press Of god-like men, who, with the Minyae, Were armed to bring the fleece across the sea. Then came Asclepius, whom the far-darter Saved living from the lifeless corpse of her He once loved well, but slew for treason done, Fair-haired Coronis, whose far-seeing son He honoured much, and taught so many a thing, That first he knew how man may ease the sting 440 Of sickening pain, because all herbs he knew. And what the best and worst of them could do. So many a bitter fight with death he had, And made the heart of many a sick man glad, 423 That like fair men in all else, from the head 406-482 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 359 And gave nev/ life to many a man who seemed But dead already, wherefore people deemed When he was dead that he was God indeed, And on his altars many a beast did bleed. Acastus, Pelias' son, from wandering Was come that self-same day unto the king, 45° And needs must go with Jason on his quest, Careless of princely ease and golden rest. Next Neleus, growing grey, forgetting not The double crime, had left the pleasant spot Where wan Alpheus meets the green sea waves. And twice a-day the walls of Pylos laves ; For he was fain to expiate the sin Pelias shared with him, long years past within Queen Juno's temple, where the brothers slew The old Sidero, crying out, who knew 460 Then first the bitterness of such a cry As broke from Tyro in her agony When helpless, bound, within the brazen hall, She felt unthought-of torment on her fall. With none to pity her, nor knew what end The Gods unto such misery would send. So might Sidero feel, when fell on her Unlooked-for death and deadly, hopeless fear ; And in their turn must Neleus o'er the sea Go wandering now, and Pelias must be 47° A trembling liar till death seizes him. But now with Neleus, young but strong of limb. His wise, far-seeing offspring, Nestor, went. With eyes a little downward ever bent. Thinking of this and that which he had seen ; Who, when his youth was flourishing and green, Saw many feats of arms and ways of men. Yet lived so long to be well honoured, when In Troy the old the princes shared the spoil. Next came Laertes to share grief and toil 480 With these upon the sea ; yet had he not An easy land in Ithaca the hot, 451 his] this 455 Where wan] Where the wan 360 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON m Though Bacchus loves the ledges of the land, And weighs the peasant in his sunburnt hand The heavy oozing bunches, in the time When frosts draw nigh in the rough northern clime. Next whom came Almenus, of naught afraid, Well armed and hardy, whom a mortal maid Bore unto Mars, for he, new-come from Thrace, Beside Enipeus met her, and in chase 490 He held her long, who vainly fled from him, Though light of foot she was, and strong of limb. And last of all, Orpheus the singer came, The son of King Onager, great of fame, Yet happier by much in this, that he Was loved by heavenly Calliope, AVho bore him Orpheus on a happy day. And now, through many a rough and toilsome way, Hither he came the Minyae to please, And make them masters of the threatening seas, 500 Cheering their hearts, and making their hands strong With the unlooked-for sweetness of his song. Now it was eve by then that Orpheus came Into the hall, and when they heard his name, And toward the high-seat of the prince he drew, All men beholding him the singer knew, And glad were all men there that he should be Their mate upon the bitter, tuneless sea. And loud they shouted, but Prince Jason said : — ' Now, may the Gods bring good things on thy head, Son of (Eager, but from me, indeed, 511 This gold Daedalian bowl shall be thy meed, If thou wilt let us hear thy voice take wing From out thine heart, and see the golden string Quiver beneath thy fingers. But by me First sit and feast, and happy mayst thou be.' Then, glad at heart, the hero took his place. And ate and drank his fill, but when the space Was cleared of flesh and bread, he took his lyre And sung them of the building up of Tyre, 520 507 And glad they were, indeed, that he should be 483-556 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 361 And of the fair things stored up over sea, Till there was none of them but fain would be Set in the ship, nor cared one man to stay On the green earth for one more idle day. But Jason, looking right and left on them, Took his fair cloak, wrought with a golden hem, And laid it upon Orpheus, and thereto Added the promised bowl, that all men knew No hand but that of Da?dalus had wrought. So rich it was, and fair beyond all thought. 530 Then did he say unto the Minyse : — ' Fair friends and well-loved guests, no more shall yo Feast in this hall luitil we come again Back to this land, well-guerdoned for our pain. Bearing the fleece, and mayhap many a thing Such as this god-like guest erewhile did sing. Scarlet, and gold, and brass ; but without fail Bearing great fame, if aught that may avail To men who die ; and our names certainly Shall never perish, wheresoe'er we lie. 54° ' And now behold within the haven rides Our good ship, swinging in the changing tides. Gleaming with gold, and 1)1 ue, and cinnabar, The long new oars beside the rowlocks are, The sail hangs flapping in the light west wind, Nor aught imdone can any craftsman find From stem to stern ; so is our quest begun To-morrow at the rising of the sun. And may Jove bring us all safe back to see Another sun shine on this fair city, 55° When elders and the flower-crowned maidens meet With tears and singing our returning feet.' So spake he, and so mighty was the shout. That the hall shook, and shepherd-folk without The well-walled city heard it as they went Unto the fold across the thymy bent. 362 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iv BOOK IV The quest begun — The loss of Hylas and Hercules. But through the town few eyes were sealed by sleep When the sun rose ; yea, and the upland sheep Must guard themselves for that one morn at least, Against the wolf , and wary doves may feast Unscared that morning on the ripening corn. Nor did the whetstone touch the scythe that morn ; And all unheeded did the mackerel shoal Make green the blue waves, or the porpoise roll Through changing hills and valleys of the sea. For 'twixt the thronging people solemnly lo The heroes went afoot along the way That led unto the haven of the bay. And as they went the roses rained on them From windows glorious with the well-wrought hem Of many a purple cloth ; and all their spears Were twined with flowers that the fair earth bears ; And round their ladies' tokens were there set About their helmets, flowery wreaths, still wet With beaded dew of the scarce vanished night. So as they passed, the young men at the sight 20 Shouted for joy, and their hearts swelled with pride ; But scarce the elders could behold dry-eyed The glorious show, remembering well the days When they were able too to win them praise, And in their hearts was hope of days to come. Nor could the heroes leave their fathers' home Unwept of damsels, who henceforth must hold The empty air unto their bosoms cold. And make their sweet complainings to the night That heedeth not soft eyes and bosoms white. 30 And many such an one was there that morn, Who, with lips parted and grey eyes forlorn, Stood by the window and forgot to cast Her gathered flowers as the heroes passed. 1^72 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 363 But held them still within her garment's hem, Though many a winged wish she sent to them. But on they went, and as the way they trod, His swelling heart nigh made each man a god ; While clashed their armour to the minstrelsy That went before them to the doubtful sea. 40 And now, the streets being passed, they reached the bay. Where by the well-built quay long Argo lay. Glorious with gold, and shining in the sun. Then first they shouted, and each man begun Against his shield to strike his brazen spear ; And as along the quays they drew a-near, Faster they strode and faster, till a cry Again burst from them, and right eagerly Into swift running did they break at last. Till all the wind-swept quay being overpast, 50 They pressed across the gangway, and filled up The hollow ship as wine a golden cup. But Jason, standing by the helmsman's side High on the poop, lift up his voice and cried : — ' Look landward, heroes, once, before ye slip The tough well-twisted hawser from the ship. And set j^our eager hands to rope or oar ; For now, behold, the king stands on the shore Beside a new-built altar, while the priests Lead up a hecatomb of spotless beasts, 6a White bulls and coal-black horses, and my sire Lifts up the barley-cake above the fire ; And in his hand a cup of ruddy gold King Pelias takes ; and now may ye behold The broad new-risen sun light up the God, Who, holding in his hand the crystal rod That rules the sea, stands by Dsedalian art Above his temple, set right far apart From other houses, nigh the deep green sea. ' And now, fellows, from no man but me 70 These gifts come to the God, that, ere long years Have drowned our laughter and dried up our tears, 364 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iv We may behold that glimmering brazen God Against the sun bear up his crystal rod Once more, and once more cast upon this land This cable, severed by my bloodless brand.' So spake he, and raised up the glittering steel. That fell, and seaward straight did Argo reel, Set free, and smitten by the western breeze, And raised herself against the ridgy seas, 80 With golden eyes turned toward the Colchian land, Still heedful of wise Tiphys' skilful hand. But silent sat the heroes by the oar, Hearkening the sounds borne from the lessening shore ; The lowing of the doomed and flower-crowned beasts, The plaintive singing of the ancient priests. Mingled with blare of trumpets, and the sound Of all the many folk that stood around The altar and the temple by the sea. So sat they pondering much and silently, 90 Till all the landward noises died away. And, midmost now of the green sunny bay, They heard no sound but washing of the seas And piping of the following western breeze, And heavy measured beating of the oars : So left the Argo the Thessalian shores. Now Neptune, joyful of the sacrifice Beside the sea, and all the gifts of price That Jason gave him, sent them wind at will, And swiftly Argo climbed each changing hill, 100 And ran through rippling valleys of the sea ; Nor toiled the heroes unmelodiously. For by the mast sat great Onager's son, And through the harp-strings let his fingers run Nigh soundless, and with closed lips for a while ; But soon across his face there came a smile. And his glad voice brake into such a song That swiftlier sped the eager ship along. ' bitter sea, tumultuous sea. Full many an ill is wrought by thee ! — no 73-149 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 365 Unto the wasters of the land Thou holdest out thy wrinkled hand ; And when they leave the conquered town, Whose black smoke makes thy surges brown, Driven betwixt thee and the sun, As the long day of blood is done, From many a league of glittering waves Thou smilest on them and their slaves. ' The thin bright-eyed Phoenician Thou drawest to thy waters wan, 120 With ruddy eve and golden morn Thou temptest him, until, forlorn, Unburied, under alien skies Cast up ashore his body lies. ' Yea, whoso sees thee from his door, Must ever long for more and more ; Nor will the beechen bowl suffice. Or homespun robe of little price, Or hood well-woven of the fleece Undyed, or unspiced wine of Greece ; J30 So sore his heart is set upon Purple, and gold, and cinnamon ; For as thou cravest, so he craves, Until he rolls beneath thy waves. Nor in some landlocked, unknown bay. Can satiate thee for one day. ' Now, therefore, O thou bitter sea. With no long words we pray to thee. But ask thee, hast thou felt before Such strokes of the long ashen oar ? i40 And hast thou yet seen such a prow Thy rich and niggard waters plough ? ' Nor yet, O sea, shalt thou be cursed, If at thy hands we gain the worst, And, wrapt in water, roll about Blind-eyed, unheeding song or shout. Within thine eddies far from shore, Warmed by no sunlight any more. ' Therefore, indeed, we joy in thee. 366 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iv And praise thy greatness, and will we 150 Take at thy hands both good and ill, Yea, what thou wilt, and praise thee still, Enduring not to sit at home. And wait until the last days come, When we no more may care to hold White bosoms under crowns of gold, And our dulled hearts no. longer are Stirred by the clangorous noise of war. And hope within our souls is dead, And no joy is remembered. 160 'So, if thou hast a mind to slay. Fair prize thou hast of us to-day ; And if thou hast a mind to save. Great praise and honour shalt thou have ; But whatso thou wilt do with us, Our end shall not be piteous. Because our memories shall live When folk forget the way to drive The black keel through the heaped-up sea, And half dried up thy waters be.' 170 Then shouted all the heroes, and they drove The good ship forth, so that the birds above, With long white wings, scarce flew so fast as they. And so they laboured well-nigh all the day. And ever in their ears divine words rung, For 'midmost of them still the Thracian sung Stories of Gods and men ; the bitter life Pandora brought to luckless men ; the strife 'Twixt Pallas and the Shaker of the Earth, The theft of Bacchus, and the wondrous birth iSo Of golden Venus. Natheless, when the sun To fall adown the heavens had begun, They trimmed the sails, and drew the long oars up, And, having poured wine from a golden cup Unto the Gods, gladdened their hearts with food ; Then having feasted as they thought it good. Set hands upon the oars again, and so Toiled on, until the broad sun, growing low, I50-228 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 367 Reddened the green sea ; then they held their hands Till he should come again from unknown lands, 190 And fell to meat again, and sat so long Over the wine-cups, cheered with tale and song, That night fell on them, and the moon rose high, And the fair western wind began to die, Though still they drifted slowly towards the east ; Then with sweet sleep the others crowiied their feast, But Tiphys and the leader of the rest. Who watched till drew the round moon to the west, And Jason could behold beneath her light, Far off at first, a little speck of white, 200 Which, as the grey dawTi stole across the sea. And the wmd freshened, grew at last to be Grey rocks and great, and when they nigher drew, The skilful helmsman past all doubting knew The land of Lemnos ; therefore from their sleep They roused their fellows, bidding them to keep The good ship from that evil rocky shore. So each man set his hand unto the oar. And, striking sail, along the coast they crept, Till the Sim rose, and birds no longer slept ; 210 Then as they went they saw a sandy beach Under the cliff, that no high wave could reach. And in the rock a deep cave cut, whereby A man was standing, gazing earnestly Upon their ship, and shouting words that, tost Hither and thither by the wind, were lost Amid the tumbling of the ridgy sea : Natheless, they deemed that he still prayed to be Their fellow, and to leave those rocky shores ; Therefore, with backing of the ashen oars, 220 They stayed the ship, and beckoned unto him To try the sea, if so be he could swim. Because, indeed, they doubted there might be A-nigh the place some hidden enemy : Nor cared they much to trust their oaken keel Too near those rocks, as deadly as sharp steel, That lay upon their lee ; but with a shout He sprang into the sea, and beat about 368 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iv The waters bravely, till he reached the ship ; And clambering up, let the salt water drip 230 From off his naked limbs, nor spoke he ought Until before the fair prince he was brought. But Jason, when he set his eyes on him. And saw him famished and so gaunt of limb, Bade them to give him food and wine enow Before he told his tale ; and still to row Along the high cliffs eastward, nor to stay For town or tower, or haven or deep bay. Then being clothed and fed, the island man Came back to Jason, and his tale began : — 240 ' O Lord, or Prince, or whoso thou mayst be, Great thanks I give thee ; yet, I pray, of me, Ask not 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 downi 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 : 250 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 rit^s 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, 260 From which few woke, or woke in time to feci 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 naught there but a keen two-edged knife. 238 tower, or haven] tower, haven 229-306 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 369 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 : 270 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, 280 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 ^hy, But looking back in running, could espy. With shrinking horror, what kept up the chase. ' Because, indeed, the old familiar place, 290 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 was 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, 300 And some their kirtles wore 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, MORRIS B b 370 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iv Burst from the press, and, heading all the rest, Ran mightily, and the last men, hard pressed, Turned round upon them, and straightway were slain, Unarmed and faint, and 'gan the crowd to gain 310 Upon the fleeing men, till one by one They fell, and looked their last upon the sun. And I alone was held in chase, imtil 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, 320 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 there the mouth of yon cave scarce could 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, 330 And in the nights I went along the beach And got me shell-fish, and made shift to reach Some few birds' eggs ; but natheless, misery Must soon have slain me, had not the kind sea Sent you, 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 340 In this our quest, if so thou wiliest 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 307-384 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 371 Shall some man give thee what thou countest dear. ' And if thou askest of us, know that we Are children of the conquering Minyse, And make for Colchis o'er the watery plain. And think we shall not fail to bring again 350 The fleece of Neptune's ram to Thessaly.' ' Prince ' said the Lemnian, ' I will go with thee Whereso thou wiliest, 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. Meanwhile, along the high cliffs Argo ran 360 Until a fresh land-wind began to rise, Then did they set sail, and in goodly wise Draw off from Lemnos, and at close of day Again before them a new covmtry lay. Which when they neared, the hehusman Tiphys knew To be the Mysian land ; being come thereto. They saw a grassy shore and trees enow, And a sweet stream that from the land did flow ; Therefore they thought it good to land thereon And get them water ; but, the day being gone, 370 They anchored till the dawn anigh the beach. Till the sea's rim the golden sun did reach. But when the day dawned, most men left the ship, Some hasting the glazed water-jars to dip In the fresh water ; others among these Who had good will beneath the murmuring trees To sit awhile, forgetful of the sea. And with the sea-farers there landed three Amongst the best, Alcmena's godlike son, Hylas the fair, and that half-halting one, 380 Great Polyphemus. Now both Hercules And all the others lay beneath the trees. When all the jars were filled, nor wandered far ; But Hylas, governed by some wayward star, B b 2 372 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iv Strayed from them, and up stream he set his face. And came unto a tangled woody place, From whence the stream came, and within that wood Along its bank wandered in heedless mood. Nor knew it haunted of the sea-nymphs fair, Whom on that morn the heroes' noise did scare 39° From their abiding-place anigh the bay ; But these now hidden in the water lay Within the wood, and thence could they behold The fair-limbed Hylas, with his hair of gold. And mighty arms doAvn-swinging carelessly, And fresh face, ruddy from the wind-swept sea ; Then straight they loved him, and, being fain to have His shapely body in the glassy wave. And taking counsel there, they thought it good That one should meet him in the darksome wood, 400 And by her wiles should draw him to some place Where they his helpless body might embrace. So from the water stole a fair nyinph forth, And by her art so wrought, that from the north You would have thought her come, from where a queen Rules over lands summer alone sees green ; For she in goodly raiment, furred, was clad. And on her head a golden fillet had. Strange of its fashion, and about her shone Many a fair jewel and outlandish stone, 410 So in the wood, anigh the river side. The coming of the Theban did she bide, Nor waited long, for slowly pushing through The close-set saplings, o'er the flowers blue He drew nigh, singing, free from any care ; But when he saw her glittering raiment fair Betwixt the green tree-trunks, he stayed a space, For she, with fair hands covering up her face. Was wailing loud, as though she saw him not, And to his mmd came old tales half forgot, 420 Of women of the woods, the huntsman's bane. Yet with his fate indeed he strove in vain ; For, going further forward warily. From tree -trunk unto tree -trunk, he could see 385-462 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 373 Her ivory hands, with wrist set close to wrist, Her cheek as fair as any God has kissed. Her lovely neck and wealth of golden hair, That from its fillet straggled here and there, And all her body writhing in distress. Wrapped in the bright folds of her golden dress. 430 Then forthwith he drew near her eagerly. Nor did she seem to know that he was nigh, Until almost his hand on her was laid ; Then, lifting up a pale wild face, she said, Struggling with sobs and shrinking from his hand : — ' 0, fair young warrior of a happy land. Harm not a queen, I pray thee, for I come From the far northland, where yet sits at home The king, my father, who, since I was wooed By a rich lord of Greece, had thought it good 440 To send me to him with a royal train. But they, their hearts being changed by hope of gain, vSeized on my goods, and left me while I slept ; Nor do I know, indeed, what kind God kept Their traitorous hands from slaying me outright ; And surely yet, the lion-haunted night tShall make an end of me, who erewhile thought That imto lovelier lands I was being brought. To live a happier life than heretofore. ' But why think I of past times any more, 450 Who, a king's daughter once, am now grown fain Of poorest living, through all toil and pain, If so I may but live : and thou, indeed. Perchance art come, some God, unto my need ; For nothing less thou seemest, verily. But if thou art a man, let me not die. But take me as thy slave, that I may live. For many a gem my raiment has to give, And these weak fingers surely yet may learn To turn the mill, and carry forth the urn 460 Unto the stream, nor shall my feet unshod. Shrink from the flinty road and thistly sod.' 425 ivory] lovely 374 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iv She ceased ; but he stooped dowai,and stammering said : ' Mayst thou be happy, most lovely maid. And thy sweet life yet know a better day : And I will strive to bring thee on thy way. Who am the well-loved son of a rich man Who dwells in Thebes, beside Ismenus wan.' Therewith he reached his hand to her. and she Let her slim palm fall in it daintily ; 470 But with that touch he felt as through his blood Strange fire ran, and saw not the close wood, Nor tangled path, nor stream, nor aught but her Crouching before him in her gold and fur. With kind appealing eyes raised up to his. And red lips trembling for the coming kiss. But ere his lips met hers did she arise, Reddening with shame, and from before his eyes Drew her white hand, wherewith the robe of gold She gathered up, and from her feet did hold, 480 Then through the tangled wood began to go, Not looking round ; but he cared not to know Whither they went, so only she was nigh. So to her side he hurried fearfully, She naught gainsaying, but with eyes downcast Still by his side betwixt the low boughs past. Following the stream, until a space of green All bare of trees they reached, and there-between The river ran, grown broad and like a pool. Along whose bank a flickering shade and cool 490 Grey willows made, and all about they heard The warble of the small brown river bird. And from both stream and banks rose up a haze Quivering and glassy, for of summer days This was the chief est day and crown of all. There did the damsel let her long skirts fall Over her feet, but as her hand dropped down, She felt it stopped by Hylas' fingers brown. Whereat she trembled and began to go Across the flowery grass with footsteps slow, 500 As though she grew aweary, and she said, Turning about her fair and glorious head : 463-539 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 375 ' Soft is the air in your land certainly, But under foot the way is rough and dry Unto such feet as mine, more used to feel The dainty stirrup wrought of gold and steel, Or tread upon the white bear's fell, or pass In spring and summer o'er such flowery grass As this, that soothly mindeth me too much Of that my worshipped feet were wont to touch, 510 When I was called a queen ; let us not haste To leave this sweet place for the tangled waste, I pray thee, therefore prince, but let us lie Beneath these willows while the wind goes by. And set our hearts to think of hayjpy things. Before the morrow pain and trouble brings.' She faltered somewhat as she spoke, tut he Drew up before her and took lovingly Her other hand, nor spoke she more to him, Nor he to her awhile, till, from the rim 520 Of his great shield, broke off the leathern band That crossed his breast, whether some demon's hand Snapped it unseen, or some sharp, rugged bough Within the wood had chafed it even now ; But clattering fell the buckler to the ground. And, startled at the noise, he turned him round, Then, grown all bold within that little space, He set his cheek unto her blushing face, And smiling, in a low voice said : ' sweet, Call it an omen that this, nowise meet 530 For deeds of love, has left me by its will, And now by mine these toys that cumber still. My arms shall leave me.' And therewith he threw His brass-bound spear upon the grass, and drew The Theban blade from out its ivory sheath. And loosed his broad belt's clasp, that like a wreath His father's Indian serving-man had wrought. And cast his steel coat off, from Persia brought ; And so at last being freed of brass and steel, 521 leathern] leather 4 ^''' *' %^1Q THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iv Upon his breast he laid her hand to feel 540 The softness of the fine Phoenician stufE That clad it still, nor yet could toy enough With that fair hand ; so played they for a space, Till softly did she draw him to a place Anigh the stream, and they being set, he said : ' And what dost thou, love ? art thou afraid To cast thine armour off, as I have done, Within this covert where the fiery sun Scarce strikes upon one jewel of your gown ? ' Then she spake, reddening, with her eyes cast down : prince, behold me as I am to-day, 551 But if o'er many a rough and weary way It hap unto us both at last to come Unto the happy place that is thine home. Then let me be as women of thy land When they before the sea-born goddess stand, And not one flower hides them from her sight.' But with that word she set her fingers white Upon her belt, and he said amorously : ' Ah, Grod, whatso thou wilt must surely be, 560 But would that I might die or be asleep Till we have gone across the barren deep, And you and I together, hand in hand, Some day ere sunrise lights the quiet land. Behold once more the seven gleaming gates.' ' O love,' she said, ' and such a fair time waits Both thee and me ; but now to give thee rest. Here, in the noontide, were it not the best To soothe thee with some gentle murmuring song, Sung to such notes as to our folk belong ; 570 Such as my maids awhile ago would sing When on my bed a-nights I lay waking ? ' ' Sing on,' he said, ' but let me dream of bliss If I should sleep, nor yet forget thy kiss ' She touched his lips with hers, and then began A sweet song sung not yet to any man. ' I know a little garden close Set thick with lily and red rose, 540-6I7 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 377 Where I would wander if I might From dewy dawn to dewy night. 580 And have one with me wandering. ' And though within it no birds sing, And though no pillared house is there, And though the apple boughs are bare Of fruit and blossom, would to God, Her feet upon the green grass trod, And I beheld them as before. ' There comes a murmur from the shore, And in the place two fair streams are, Drawn from the purple hills afar, 590 Drawn down unto the restless sea ; The hills whose flowers ne'er fed the bee, The shore no ship has ever seen, Still beaten by the billows green, Whose murmur comes unceasingly Unto the place for which I cry. ' For which I cry both day and night, For which I let slip all delight, That maketh me both deaf and blind, Careless to win, unskilled to find, 600 And quick to lose what all men seek. ' Yet tottering as I am, and weak, Still have I left a little breath To seek within the jaws of death An entrance to that happy place, To seek the unforgotten face Once seen, once kissed, once reft from me Anigh the murmuring of the sea.' She ceased her song, that lower for a while And slower too had grown, and a soft smile 610 Grew up within her eyes as still she sung. Then she rose up and over Hylas hung, For now he slept ; wherewith the God in her Consumed the northern robe done round with fur That hid her beauty, and the light west wind Played with her hair no fillet now did bind. And tlirough her faint grey garment her limbs seemed 378 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iv Like ivory in the sea, and the sun gleamed Tn the strange jewels round her middle sweet, And in the jewelled sandals on her feet. 620 So stood she murmuring till a rippling sound She heard, that grew until she turned her round And saw her other sisters of the deep Her song had called while Hylas yet did sleep. Come swimming in a long line up the stream, Aud their white dripping arms and shoulders gleam Above the dark grey water as they went, And still before them a great ripple sent. But when they saw her, toward the bank they drew, And landing, felt the grass and flowers blue 650 Against their unused feet ; then in a ring Stood gazing with wide eyes, and wondering At all his beauty they desired so much. And then with gentle hands began to touch His hair, his hands, his closed eyes ; and at last Their eager naked arms about him cast. And bore him, sleeping still, as by some spell,* Unto the depths where they were wont to dwell ; Then softly down the reedy bank they slid. And with small noise the gurgling river hid 640 The flushed nymphs and the heedless sleeping man. But ere the water covered them, one ran Across the mead and caught up from the ground The brass-bound spear, and buckler bossed and round, The ivory-hilted sword, and coat of mail. Then took the stream ; so what might tell the tale, Unless the wind should tell it, or the bird Who from the reed these things had seen and heard ? Meanwhile, the ship being watered, and the day Now growing late, the prince would fain away ; 650 So from the ship was blown a horn to call The stragglers back, who mustered one and all. But Theban Hylas ; therefore, when they knew That he was missing, Hercules withdrew From out the throng, if yet perchance his voice Hylas might hear, and all their hearts rejoice 618-696 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 379 With his well-known shout in reply thereto ; With him must Polyphemus likewise go, To work out the wise counsel of the fates, Unhappy, who no more would see the gates 660 Of white-walled fair Larissa, or the plain Burdened by many an overladen wain. For, while their cries and shouts rang through the weed, The others reached the ship, and thought it good To weigh the anchor, and anigh the shore, With loosened sail, and run-out ready oar, To trim the ship for leaving the fair bay ; And therefore, Juno, waiting for that day, And for that hour, had gathered store of wind Up in the hills to work out all her mind, 670 Which, from the Mysian mountains now let slip, Tearing along the low shore, smote the ship In blinding clouds of salt spray mixed with rain. Then vainly they struck sail, and all in vain The rowers strove to keep her head to wind. And still they drifted seaward, drenched and blind. But, 'mid their struggling, suddenly there shone A light from Argo's high prow, and thereon Could their astonished, fearful eyes behold A figure standing, with wide wings of gold, 680 Upright, amid the weltering of the sea, Calm 'midst the noise and cries, and presently To all their ears a voice pierced, saying : ' No more, Jove-blessed heroes, strive to reach the shore. Nor seek your lost companions, for of these Jove gives j^ou not the mighty Hercules To help you forward on your happy way. But wills him in the Greek land still to stay. Where many a thing he has for him to do. With whom awhile shall Polyphemus go, 690 Then build in Mysia a fair merchant -town, And when long years have passed, there lay him down : And as for Hylas, never think to see His body more, who yet lies happily Beneath the green stream where ye were this morn. And there he praises Jove that he was born. 380 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON iv.697 Forgetting the rough world, and every care ; Not dead, nor living, among faces fair, White limbs, and wonders of the watery world. ' And now I bid ye spread the sail ye furled, 700 And make on towards the straits while Juno sends Fair wind behind you, calling you her friends.' Therewith the voice ceased, and the storm was still, And afterward they had good wind at will. To help them toward the straits, but all the rest, Rejoicing at the speeding of their quest, Yet wondered much whence that strange figure came, That on the prow burnt like a harmless flame ; Yea, some must go and touch the empty space From whence those words flew from the godlike face ; But Jason and the builder, Argus, knew 7" Whereby the prow foretold things strange and new, Nor wondered aught, but thanked the Gods therefore, As far astern they left the Mysian shore. BOOK V The death of Cyzicus — Phineus freed from the Harpies. Now, driven by the oar, and feeling well The wind that made the fair white sail outswell, Thessalian Argo flew on toward the place Where first the rude folks saw dead Helle's face ; There, fearful of the darkness of the night. Without the rocks they anchored till the light, And when the day broke, sped them through the straits With oars alone, and through the narrow gates Came out into Propontis, where with oar And sail together, within sight of shore, 10 They went, until the sun was falling down, And then they saw the white walls of a town, And made thereto, and soon being come anigh. They found that on an isle the place did lie. And Tiphys called it Cyzicum, a place Built by a goodly man of a great race, 13 and soon being] and being V. 56 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 381 Himself called Cyzicus, Euzorus' son, Who still in peace ruled over many an one, Merchants and other, in that city fair. Therefore, they thought it good to enter there, 20 And going softly, with sails struck, at last Betwixt the two walls of a port they passed, And on the quays beheld full many a man Buying and selling, nigh the water wan. So, as they touched the shore, an officer Drew nigh unto them, asking who they were ; And when he knew, he cried : ' O heroes, land, For here shall all things be at your command ; And here shall you have good rest from the sea.' Therewith he sent one to go speedily 30 And tell the king these folks were landed there. Then passed the heroes forth upon the fair Well builded quays ; and all the merchant folk Beholding them, from golden dreams awoke. And of the sword and clattering shield grew fain, And glory for awhile they counted gain. But Jason and his fair folk passing these. Came to a square shaded about by trees, Where they beheld the crowned king glorious stand To wait them, who took Jason by the hand 40 And led him through the rows of linden trees Unto his house, the crown of palaces ; And there he honoured them ^ith royal feast In his fair hall, hung round with man and beast Wrought in fair Indian cloths, and on soft beds, When they grew weary, did they lay their heads. But he, when on the morn they would away. Full many a rich gift in their keel did lay. And while their oars were whitening the green sea, Within his temple he prayed reverently 50 For their good hap to Jove the Saving God. Hapless himself that these had ever trod His quiet land ; for, sailing all the day, Becalmed at last at fall of night they lay ; And lying there, an hour before midnight A black cloud rose that swallowed up the light 382 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON v Of moon and stars, and therefrom leapt a wind That drave the Argo, tottering and blind, Back on her course, and, as it died, at last They heard the breakers roaring, and so cast 60 Their anchors out within some shallow bay, They knew not where, to wait until the day. There, as they waited, they saw beacons flame Along the coast, and in a while there came A rout of armed men thereto, as might seem By shouts and clash of arms that now 'gan gleam Beneath the light of torches that they bore. Then could the heroes see that they from shore Were distant scarce a bowshot, and the tide Had ebbed so quick the sands were well-nigh dried 70 Betwixt them and the foremost of the foe. Who, ere they could push off, began to go Across the wet beach, and with many a cry The biting arrows from their bows let fly. Nor were the heroes slow to make return, Aiming where'er they saw the torches burn. So passed the night with little death of men ; But when the sky at last grew grey, and when Dimly the Argo's crew could see their foes. Then overboard they leapt, that they might close 80 With these scarce seen far-fighting enemies. And S'O met man to man, crying their cries, In deadly shock, but Jason, for his part, Rushing before the rest, put by a dart A tall man threw, and closing with him, drave His spear through shield and breast-plate weak to save His heart from such an arm ; then straight he fell Dead on the sands, and with a wailing yell The others, when they saw it, fled away, And gat them swiftly to the forest grey 90 The yellow sands fringed like a garment's hem, Nor gave the seafarers much chase to them, But on the hard sand all together drew. And now, day growing, they the country knew And found it Cyzicum, and Jason said : ' Fellows, what have we done ? by likely-head 57-134 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 383 An evil deed, and luckless, but come now, Draw off the helmet from this dead man's brow And name him.' So when they had done this thing They saw the face of Cyzicus the king. loo But Jason, when he saw him, wept, and said : ' III hast thou fared, friend, that I was led To take thy gifts and slay thee ; in such guise, Blind and unwitting, do fools die and wise, And I myself may hap to come to die By that I trusted, and like thee to lie Dead ere my time, a wonder to the world. But, poor king, thy corpse shall not be hurled Hither and thither by the heedless wave, But in an urn thine ashes will I save, no And build a temple when I come to Greece A rich man, with the fair-curled golden fleece, And set them there, and call it by thy name. That thou mayst yet win an undying fame.' Then hasted all the men, and in a while, 'Twixt sea and woodland, raised a mighty pile, And there they burned him, but for spices sweet Could cast thereon but wrack from 'neath their feet. And wild wood flowers and resin from the pine ; And when the pile grew low, with odorous wine 120 They quenched the ashes, and the king's they set Within a golden vessel, that with fret Of twining boughs and gem-made flowers was \\T0ught That they from Pelias' treasure-house had brought. Then, since the sun his high meridian Had left, they pushed into the waters wan. And so, with hoisted sail and stroke of oar, Drew off from that unluck}^ fateful shore. Now eastward with a fair wind as they went, And towards the opening of the ill sea bent 130 Their daring course, Tiphys arose and said : ' Heroes, it seems to me that hardihead Helps mortal men but little, if thereto They join not wisdom ; now needs must we go 384 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON v Into the evil sea through blue rocks twain, No keel hath ever passed, although in vain Some rash men trying it of old, have been Pounded therein, as poisonous herbs and green Are pounded by some witch-wife on the shore Of Pontus, — for these two rocks evermore 140 Each against each are driven, and leave not Across the whole strait such a little spot Safe from the grinding of their mighty blows, As that through which a well-aimed arrow goes When archers for a match shoot at the ring. ' Now, heroes, do I mind me of a king That dwelleth at a sea-side town of Thrace That men call Salmydessa, from this place A short day's sail, who hidden things can tell Beyond all men ; wherefore, I think it well 150 That we for counsel should now turn thereto, Nor headlong to our own destruction go.' Then all men said that these his words were good, And turning, towards the Thracian coast they stood, Which yet they reached not till the moonlit night Was come, and from the shore the wind blew light ; Then they lay to until the dawn, and then Creeping along, found an abode of men That Tiphys knew to be the place they sought. Thereat they shouted, and right quickly brought 160 Fair Argo to the landing-place, and threw Grapnels ashore, and landing forthwith drew Unto the town, seeking Phineus the king. But those they met and asked about this thing Grew pale at naming him, and few words said ; Natheless, they being unto the palace led. And their names told, soon were they bidden in To where the king sat, a man blind and thin. And haggard beyond measure, who straightway Called out aloud : ' Now blessed be the way 170 That led thee to me, happiest of all Who from the poop see the prow rise and fall And the sail bellying, and the glittering oars ; And blessed be the day whereon our shores 135-212 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 385 First felt thy footsteps, since across the sea My hope and my revenge thou bring'st with thee.' Then Jason said : ' Hail, Phineus, that men call Wisest of men, and may all good befall To thee and thine, and happy mayst thou live ; Yet do we rather pray thee gifts to give, i8o Than bring thee any gifts, for, soothly, we Sail, desperate men and poor, across the sea.' Then answered Phineus : ' Guest, I know indeed What gift it is that on this day ye need, Which I will not withhold ; and yet, I pray, That ye will eat and drink with me to-day, Then shall ye see how wise a man am I, And how well-skilled to scape from misery.' Therewith he groaned, and bade his folk to bring Such feast as 'longed unto a mighty king, 190 And spread the board therewith ; who straight obeyed. Trembling and pale, and on the tables laid A royal feast most glorious in show. Then said the king : ' I give you now to know That the Gods love me not, guests ; therefore, Lest your expected feast be troubled sore, Eat by yourselves alone, Avhile 1 sit here Looking for that which scarcely brings me fear This day, since I so long have suffered it.' So, wondering at his words, they all did sit 200 At that rich board, and ate and drank their fill ; But yet with little mirth indeed, for still Within their wondering ears the king's words rang. And his blind eyes, made restless by some pang. They still felt on them, though no word he said. At last he called out : ' Though ye be full fed, Sit still at table and behold me eat. Then shall ye witness with what royal meat The Gods are pleased to feed me, since I know As much as they do both of things below 210 And things abov^.' Then, hearkening to this word, The most of them grew doubtful and afeard 197 Eat] Feast 203 wondering ears] ears rang] harshly rang, MOEHIS Q Q 386 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON v Of what should come ; but now unto the board The king was led, and nigh his hand his sword, Two-edged and ivory-hilted, did they lay, And set the richest dish of all that day Before him, and a wine-crowned golden cup, And a pale, trembling servant lifted up The cover from the dish ; then did they hear A wondrous rattling sound that drew anear, 220 Increasing quickly : then the gilded hall Grew dark at noon, as though the night did fall, And open were all doors and windows burst, And such dim light gleamed out as lights the cursed, Unto the torments behind Minos' throne : Dim, green, and doubtful through the hall it shone. Lighting up shapes no man had seen, before They fell, awhile ago, upon that shore. For now, indeed, the trembling Minyse Beheld the daughters of the earth and sea, 230 The dreadful snatchers, who like women were Down to the breast, with scanty coarse black hair About their heads, and dim eyes ringed with red. And bestial mouths set round with lips of lead, But from their gnarled necks there began to spring Half hair, half feathers, and a sweeping wing Grew out instead of arm on either side. And thick plumes underneath the breast did hide The place where joined the fearful natures twain. Grey feathered were they else, with many a stain 240 Of blood thereon, and on birds' claws they went. These through the hall unheard-of shrieking sent. And rushed at Phineus, just as to his mouth He raised the golden cup to quench his drouth. And scattered the red wine, and buffeted The wretched king, and one, perched on his head, Laughed as the furies laugh, when kings come down To lead new lives within the fiery town. And said : ' Phineus, thou art lucky now The hidden things of heaven and hell to know ; 250 Eat, happy man, and drink.' Then did she draw 213-289 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 387 From off the dish a goblet with her claw, And held it nigh his mouth, the while he strove To free his arm, that one hovering above, Within her filthy vulture-claws clutched tight, And cried out at him : ' Truly, in dark night Thou seest, Phineus, as the leopard doth.' Then cried the third : • Fool, who would fain have both Delight and knowledge, therefore, with blind eyes Clothe thee in purple, wrought with braveries, 260 And set the pink-veined marble 'neath thy throne ; Then on its golden cushions sit alone. Hearkening thy chain-galled slaves without singing For joy, that they behold so many a thing.' Then shrieked the first one in a dreadful voice : — ' And I, O Phineus, bid thee to rejoice, That 'midst thy knowledge still thou know'st not this — Whose flesh the lips, wherewith thy lips I kiss. This mom have fed on.' Then she laughed again, And fawning on him, with her sisters twain 270 Spread her wide wings, and hid him from the sight. Arid mixed his groans with screams of shrill delight. Now trembling sat the seafarers, nor dared To use the weapons from their sheaths half-bared, Fearing the Gods, who there, before their eyes, Had shown them with what shame and miseries They visit impious men : yet from the board There started two, with shield and ready sword. The Northwind's offspring, since, upon that day, Their father A\iX)Ught within them in such way, 280 They had no fear : but now, when Phineus knew. By his divine art, that the godlike two Were anned to help him, then from 'twixt the wings He cried aloud : O, heroes, more than kings. Strike, and fear not, but set me free to-day, That ye within your brazen chests may lay The best of all my treasure-house doth hold. Fair linen, scarlet cloth, and well- wrought gold.' Then shrieked the snatchers, knowing certainly 252 goblet a misprint ; read gobbet as injlrst edition. C C 2 388 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON v That now the time had come when they must fly. 290 From pleasant Salmydessa, casting off The joys they had in shameful mock and scoff. So gat they from the blind king, leaving him Pale and forewearied in his every limb ; And, flying through the roof, they set them down Above the hall-doors, 'mid the timbers brown, Chattering with fury. Then the fair dyed wings Opened upon the shoulders of the kings. And on their heels, and shouting, they uprose, And poised themselves in air to meet their foes. 300 Then here and there those loathly things did fly Before the brazen shields, and swords raised liigh, But as they flew unlucky words they cried. The first said : ' Hail, folk who wander wide, Seeking a foolish thing across the sea, Not heeding in what case your houses be. Where now perchance the rovers cast the brand Up to the roof, and leading by the hand The fair-limbed women with their fettered feet Pass down the sands, their hollow ship to meet.' 310 ' Fair hap to him who weds the sorceress,' The second cried, ' and may the just Gods bless The slayer of his kindred and his name.' ' Luck to the toilsome seeker after fame,' The third one from the open hall-door cried, ' Fare ye well, Jason, still unsatisfied, Still seeking for a better thing than best, A fairer thing than fairest, without rest ; Good speed, traitor, who shall think to wed Soft limbs and white, and find thy royal bed 320 Dripping with blood, and burning up with fire ; Good hap to him who henceforth ne'er shall tire In seeking good that ever flies his hand Till he lies buried in an alien land ! ' So screamed the monstrous fowl, but now the twain Sprung from the north-wind's loins to be their bane, Drew nigh unto them ; then, with huddled wings, 290-365 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 389 Forth from the hall they gat, but evil things In flying they gave forth with weakened voice, Saying unto them : ' ye men, rejoice, 330 Whose bodies worms shall feed on soon or late. Blind slaves, and foolish of unsparing fate, Seeking for that which ye can never get, Whilst life and death alike ye do forget In needless strife, until on some sure day, Death takes your scarcely tasted life away.' Quivering their voices ceased as on they flew Before the swift wings of the godlike two Far oyer land and sea, until they were Anigh the isles called Strophades, and there, 34° With tired wings, all voiceless did they light, Trembling to see anigh the armour bright The wind-born brothers bore, but as these drew Their gleaming swords and towards the monsters flew, From out the deep rose up a black-haired man, Who, standing on the white-topped waves that ran On towards the shore, cried : ' Heroes, turn again, For on this islet shall ye land in vain, But without sorrow leave the chase of these Who henceforth 'mid the rocky Strophades 350 Shall dwell for ever, servants unto me. Working my will, therefore rejoice that ye Win gifts and honour for your deed to-day.' Then, even as he spoke, they saw but grey. White headed waves rolling where he had stood. Whereat they sheathed their swords, and through their blood A tremor ran, for now they knew that he Was Neptune, shaker of the earth and sea ; Therefore they turned them back unto the hall Where yet the others were, and ere nightfall 360 Came back to Salmydessa and the king, And lighting down they told him of the thing. ^ Who, hearing them, straight lifted up his voice, And 'midst the shouts cried : ' Heroes, now rejoice With me who am delivered on this day 344 towards] to 390 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON v. 366 From that which took all hope and joy away ; Therefore to feast again, until the sun Another glad day for us has begun, And then, indeed, if ye must try the sea. With gifts and counsel shall ye go from me ; 370 Such as the Gods have given me to give. And happy lives and glorious may ye live.' Then did they fall to banqueting again. Forgetting all forebodings and all pam ; And when that they had ate and drank enow, With songs and music, and a goodly show, Their hearts were gladdened, for before their eyes Played youths and damsels with strange fantasies, Clad as in Saturn's time folk used to be, With green leaves gathered from the summer tree, 380 When all the year was summer everywhere, And every man and woman blest and fair. So, set 'twixt pleasuj:'e and some soft regret, All cares of mortal men did they forget. Except the vague desire not to die. The hopeless wish to flee from certainty, That sights and somids we love will bring on us In this sweet fleeting world and piteous. BOOK VI The passage of the Symplegades — The heroes come to -Ea. But on the morrow did they get them gone. Gifted with gold and many a precious stone, And many a bale of scarlet cloth and spice, And arms well wTought, and goodlj^ robes of price. But chiefly to the wind-bom brothers strong Did gifts past telling on that mom belong. Now as they stood upon the windy quay. Beady their hands upon the ropes to lay, Phineus, who 'midst his mighty lords was there, Set high above them in a royal chair, 10 Saia : ' Many a gift ye have of me to-day Within your treasuries at home to lay. VI. 52 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 391 If so it be that through hard things and pain Ye come to the horse -nurturing land again ; Natheless, one more gift shall ye have of me, For lacking that, beneath the greedy sea, The mighty tomb of mariners and kings, Doubt not to lay down these desired things, Nor think to come to Thessaly at all.' And therewith turning, he began to call 20 Unto his folk to bring what they had there. Then one brought forward a cage great and fair. Wherein they saw a grey, pink-footed dove. Then said the king : ' The very Gods above Can scantly help you more than now I do. For listen ; as upon this day ye go Unto the narrow ending of the sea, Anigh tlie clashing rocks lie patiently, And let the keenest-eyed among you stand Upon the prow, and let loose from his hand 30 This dove, who from my mouth to-day has heard So many a mystic and compelling word, He cannot choose, being loosed, but fly down straight Unto the opening of that dreadful gate ; So let the keen-eyed watch, and if so be He comes out safe into the evil sea, Then bend unto the oars, nor fear at all Of aught that from the dashers may befall ; But if he perish, then turn back again, And know the Gods have made your passage vain. 40 Thereafter, if ye will, come back to me. And if ye find nought in my treasury That ye desire, yet ye at least shall have A king and a king's son to be your slave ; And all things here still may ye bind and loose, And from our women freely may ye choose. Nor spare the fairest or most chaste to kiss. And in fair houses shall ye live in bliss.' ' king,' said Jason, ' know that on this day I will not be forsworn, but by some way 50 Will reach the oak-grove and the Golden Fleece, Or, failing, die at least far oflf from Greece, 392 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vi Not unremembered ; yet great thanks we give For this thy gift and counsel, and will strive To come to Colchis through the unknown land And whatso perils wait us, if Jove's hand Be heavy on us, and the great blue gates Are shut against us by the unmoved fates. Farewell, king, and henceforth, free from ill. Live happy as thou mayest, and honoured still.' 60 Then turned he, shouting, to the Minyse, Who o'er the gangways rushed tumultuously, And from the land great Argo straightway thrust, And gat them to their work, hot with the lust Of fame and noble deeds, and happy prize. But the bird Lynceus took, unto whose eyes The night was as the day, and fire as air. Then back into his marble palace fair The king turned, thinking well upon the way Of what had happed since morn of yesterday. 70 Now from the port passed Argo, and the wind Being fair for sailing, quickly left behind Fair Salmydessa, the kind, gainful place ; And so, with sail and oar, in no long space They reached the narrow ending of the sea, Where the wind shifted, blowing gustily From side to side, so that their flapping sail But little in the turmoil could avail ; And now at last did they begin to hear The pounding of the rocks ; but nothing clear 80 They saw them ; for the steaming clouds of spray, Cast by the meeting hammers every way, Quite hid the polished bases from their sight ; Unless perchance the eyes of Lynceus might Just now and then behold the deep blue shine Betwixt the scattering of the silver brine ; But sometimes 'twixt the clouds the sun would pass And show the high rocks glittering like glass, Quivering, as far beneath the churned-up waves Were ground together the strong arched caves, po Wherein none dwelt, no, not the giant's brood, 53-13° THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 393 Who fed the green sea with his lustful blood, Nor were sea-devils even nurtured there, Nor dared the sea-worm use them for its lair. And now the Minyae, as they drew anear, Had been at point to turn about for fear. Each man beholding his pale fellow's face. Whose speech was silenced in that dreadful place By the increasing clamour of the sea And adamantine rocks ; then verily loo Was Juno good at need, who set strange fire In Jason's heart, and measureless desire To be the first of men, and made his voice Clear as that herald's, whose sweet words rejoice The Gods within the flowery fields of Heaven, And gave his well-knit arm the strength of seven. So then, above the crash and thundering. The Minyae heard his shrill, calm voice, crying : — ' Shall this be, then, an ending to our quest ? And shall we find the worst, who sought the best ? no Far better had ye sat beside your wives. And 'mid the wine-cups lingered out your lives, Dreaming of noble deeds, though trying none, Than as vain boasters, with j^our deed undone. Come back to Greece, that men may sing of you. Are ye all shameless ? — are there not a few Who have slain fear, knowing the unmoved fates Have meted out already what awaits The coward and the brave ? Ho ! Ljaiceus ! stand Upon the prow, and let slip from your hand 120 The wise king's bird ; and all ye note, the wind Is steady now, and blowing from behind Drives us on toward the dashers, and I hold The helm myself ; therefore, lest we be rolled Broadside against these horrors, take the oar, And hang here, half a furlong from the shore, Nor die of fear, until at least we know If through these gates the Gods will let us go : And if so be they will not, yet will we Not empty-handed come to Thessaly, 130 101 need] heed 394 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON" vi But strike for Ma through this unknoAvii land, AVhose arms reach out to us on either hand.' Then they for shame began to cast off fear, And, handling well the oars, kept Argo near The changing, little-lighted, spray-washed space Wheremito LjTiceus set his eager face, And loosed the dove, who down the west wind flew ; Then all the others lost her, dashing through The clouds of spray, but Lynceus noted how She reached the open space, just as a blow 140 Had sjjent itself, and still the hollow soimd Of the last clash was booming all aroimd ; And eagerly he noted how the dove Stopped 'mazed, and hovered for a while above The troubled sea, then stooping, darted through, As the blue gleaming rocks together drew ; Then scarce he breathed, until a joyous shout He gave, as he beheld her passing out Unscathed, above the surface of the sea. While back again the rocks drew sluggishly. 150 Then back their jDoised oars whirled, and straight they drave Unto the opening of the spray-arched cave ; But Jason's eyes alone, of all the crew, Beheld the sunny sea and cloudless blue. Still narrowing, but bright from rock to rock. Now as they neared, came the next thundering shock, That deafened all, and with an icy cloud Hid man from man ; but Jason, shouting loud. Still clutched the tiller ; and the oars, grasped tight By mighty hands, drave on the ship forthright 160 Unto the rocks, until, with blinded eyes. They blinked one moment at those mysteries Unseen before, the next they felt the smi Full on their backs, and knew their deed was done. Then on their oars they lay, and Jason turned, And o'er the rocks beheld how Iris burned In fair and harmless many-coloured flame, 131-205 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 395 And he beheld the way by which they came Wide open, changeless, of its spray-clouds cleared ; And though in his bewildered ears he heard 170 The tumult yet, that all was stilled he knew, While in and out the unused sea-fowl flew Betwixt them, and the now subsiding sea Lapped round about their dark feet quietly. So, turning to the Minyse, he cried : — ' See ye, fellows, the gates opened wide, And chained fast by the Gods, nor think to miss The ver}" end we seek, or well-earned bliss When once again we feel our country's earth, And 'twixt the tears of elders, and the mirth 180 Of young men grown to manhood since we left, And longing eyes of girls, the fleece, once reft From a king's son of Greece, we hang again In Neptmie's temple, nigh the murmuring main.' Then all men, with their eves now cleared of brine, Beheld the many-coloured rainbow shine Over the rocks, and saw it fade away, And saw the opening cleared of sea and spray, And saw the green sea lap about the feet Of those blue hills, that never more should meet, 190 And saw the wondering sea-fowl fly about Their much-changed tops ; then, with a mighty shout. They rose rejoicing, and poured many a cup Of red wine to the Gods, and hoisting up The weather-beaten sail, with mirth and song, Havmg good wind at will, they sped along. Three days with good hap and fair wind they went. That ever at their backs Queen Juno sent. But on the fourth day, about noon, they drew Unto a new-built city no man knew ; 200 No, not the pilot ; so they thought it good To arm themselves, and thus in doubtful mood Brought Ai'go to the port, and being come nigh, A clear- voiced herald from the land did cry : ' Whoso ye be, if that ye come in peace, 196 they] then 396 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vi King Lycus bids you hail, but if from Greece Ye come, and are the folk of whom we hear Who make for Colchis, free from any fear Then doubly welcome are ye, here take land. For everything shall be at your command.' 210 So without fear they landed at that word, And told him who they were, which when he heard. Through the fair streets he brought them to the king, Who feasted them that night with everything That man could wish ; but when on the next day They gathered at the port to go away, The wind was foul and boisterous, so perforce There must they bide, lest they should come to worse. And there for fourteen days did they abide, And for their pastime oft would wander wide 220 About the woods, for slaying of the beasts Whereby to furnish forth the royal feasts ; But on a day, a closely- hunted boar, Turning to bay, smote Idmon very sore So that he died ; poor wTetch, who could foresee Full many an unknoA^ii thing that was to be, And yet not this, whose corpse they burnt with fire Upon a purple-covered spice-strewn pyre, And set his ashes in a marble tomb. Neither could Tiphys there escape his doom, 230 Who, after suffering many a bitter storm, Died bitten of a hidden crawling worm, As through the woods he wandered all alone. Now he being bm-ned, and laid beneath a stone, The wind grew fair for sailing, and the rest Bade farewell to the king, and on their quest Once more were busied, and began to plough The unsteady plain ; for whom Erginus now. Great Neptune's son, the brass-bound tiller held. Now leaving that fair land, nought they beheld 240 For seven days but sea and changeful sky. But on the eighth, keen could L^mceus espy A land far off, and nigher as they drew 242 But on the eighth clay could Lynceus espy i 206-282 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 397 A low green shore, backed up by mountains blue, Cleft here and there, all saw, 'twixt hope and fear, For now it seemed to them they should be near The wished-for goal of yEa, and the place Where in the great sea Phasis ends his race. Then, creeping carefully along the beach, The mouth of a green river did they reach, 250 Cleaving the sands, and on the yellow bar The salt waves and the fresh waves were at war, As Phryxus erst beheld them, but no man Among them ere had sailed that water wan, Now that wise Tiphys lay within his tomb. Natheless they, wrapt in that resistless doom The fates had woven, turned from off the sea Argo's fair head, and rowing mightily Drave her across the bar, who with straight keel The eddying stream against her bows did feel. 260 So, with the wind behind them, and the oars Still hard at work, they went betwixt the shores Against the ebb, and now full oft espied Trim homesteads here and there on either side. And fair kine grazing, and much woolly sheep, And skin-clad shepherds, roused from mid-day sleep, Gazing upon them with scared wondering eyes. So now they deemed they might be near their prize ; And at the least knew that some town was nigh, And thought to hear new tidings presently, 270 Which happed indeed, for on the turn of tide, At ending of a long reach, they espied A city wondrous fair, which seemed indeed To bar the river's course ; but, taking heed And drawing nigher, soon found out the case, That on an island builded was the place The more part of it ; but four bridges fair Set thick with goodly houses everyAvhere, Crossed two and two on each side to the land, Whereon was built, with walls on either hand, 280 A towered outwork, lest that war should fall Upon the land, and midmost of each wall 249 Then] So 398 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vi A noble gate ; moreover did thej'- note About the wharves full many a ship and boat. And they beheld the sunlight glistering On arms of men and many a warlike thing, As nigher to the city they were borne, And heard at last some huge deep booming horn Sound from a tower o'er the watery way, Whose last loud note was taken up straightway 290 By other watchers further and more near. Now when they did therewith loud shouting hear, Then Jason bade them arm for what might come, ' For now,' quoth he, ' I deem we reach the home Of that great marvel we are sworn to seek, Nor do I think to find these folk so weak That they with few words and a gift or two Will give us that for which they did forego Fair fame, the love of Gods, and praise of men ; J Be strong and play the man, I bid you then, 300 " For certes in none other wise shall ye Come back again to grassy Thessaly.' Then loud they shouted, clean forgetting fear, And strong Erginus Argo straight did steer On to the port ; but through the crowded waist Ran Jason to the high prow, making haste To be the first to look upon that throng. Slueldless he was, although his fingers strong About a sharpened brass-bound spear did meet. And as the ashen oars swept on, his feet 310 Moved lightly to their cadence mider him ; So stood he like a Grod m face and limb. Now drawing quickly nigh the landing-place. Little by little did they slack their pace. Till half a bowshot from the shore they lay. Then Jason shouted : ' What do ye to-day All armed, warriors ? and what town is this That here by seeming ye have little bliss Of quiet life, but, smothered up in steel, I Ye needs must meet each harmless merchant keel 320 I 291 other watchers] many another 283-359 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 399 That nears your haven, though perchance it bring Good news, and many a much-desired thing That ye may get good cheap ? and such are we, But waj^arers upon the troublous sea, Careful of that stored up within our hold, Phoenician scarlet, spice, and Indian gold, Deep dying-earths, and woad and cinnabar. Wrought arms and vessels, and all things that are Desired much by dwellers in all lands ; Nor doubt us friends, although indeed our hands 330 Lack not for weapons, for the unfenced head, Where we have been, soon rests among the dead.' So spake he Avith a smiling face, nor lied ; For he, indeed, was purposed to have tried To win the fleece neither by war or stealth ; But by an open hand and heaps of wealth, If so it might be, bear it back again, Nor with a handful fight a host in vain. But being now silent, at the last he saw A stir among those folk, who 'gan to draw 34Q Apart to right and left, leaving a man Alone amidst them, unarmed, with a wan And withered face, and black beard mixed with grey That swept his girdle, who these words did say : — ' seafarers, I give you now to know That on this town oft falleth many a foe, Therefore not lightly may folk take the land With helm on head, and naked steel in hand ; Now, since indeed ye folk are but a few, We fear you not, yet fain would that we knew 35° Your names and countries, since witliin this town Of ^a may a good man laj^ him down And fear for nought, at least while I am king, ^etes, born to heed full many a thing.' Now Jason, hearing this desired name He thought to hear, groAvn hungrier yet for fame, With eager heart, and fair face flushed for pride. Said : ' King ^Eetes, if not over wide My name is known, that yet may come to be, 332 rests] lies 356 hungrier yet for] hungrier for 400 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vi ., For I am Jason of the Minyge, 360 And through great perils have I come from Greece. And now, since this is ^a, and the fleece Thou slayedst once a guest to get, hangs up I Within thine house, take many a golden cup. And arms, and dyestuffs, cloth, and spice, and gold, Yea, all the goods that lie within our hold ; Which are not mean, for neither have we come Leaving all things of price shut up at home. Nor have we seen the faces of great kings And left them giftless ; therefore take these things And be our friend ; or, few folk as we are, 371 The Gods and we may bring thee bitter care.' Then spake iEetes : ' Not for any word, Or for the glitter of thy bloodless sword, O youngling, will I give the fleece to thee, Nor yet for gifts, — for what are such to me ? Behold, if all thy folk joined hand to hand They should not, striving, be enough to stand And girdle round my bursting treasure-house ; Yet, since of this thing thou art amorous, 380 And I love men, and hold t-he Gods in fear. If thou and thine will land, then mayst thou hear | What great things thou must do to win the fleece ; Then, if thou wilt not dare it, go in peace. But come now, thou shalt hear it amidst wine And lovely things, and songs well-nigh divine, 1 And all the feasts that thou hast shared erewhile ' With other kings, to mine shall be but vile. ' Lest thou shouldst name me, coming to thy land, A poor guest-fearing man, of niggard hand.' 390 So spake he outwardly, but inly thought, "' Within two days this lading shall be brought To lie amongst my treasures with the best, While 'neath the earth these robbers lie at rest.' But Jason said : ' King, if these things be such As man may do, I shall not fear them much, And at thy board will I feast merrily To-night, if on the morrow I must die ; And yet, beware of treason, since for nought 360-437 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 401 Such lives as ours by none are lightly bought. 400 ' Draw on, heroes, to the shore, if ye Are willing still this great king's house to see/ Thereat was Argo brought up to the shore, And straight all landed from her, less and more, And the king spake to Jason honied words, And idle were all spears, and sheathed all swords, As toward the palace they were gently brought. But Jason, smiling outwardly, yet thought Within his heart : ' All this is fair enow, Yet do I think it but an empty show ; 410 Natheless, until the end comes, will not I, Like a bad player, spoil the bravery By breaking out before they call my turn, And then of me some mastery they may learn.' Amidst these thoughts, between the fair streets led, He noted well the size and goodly-head Of all the houses, and the folk well clad. And armed as though good store of wealth they had, Peering upon them with a wondering gaze. At last a temple, built in ancient days 420 Ere ^^a was a town, they came unto ; Huge was it, but not fair unto the view Of one beholding from without, but round The ancient place they saw a spot of ground Where laurels grew each side the temple door, And two great images set up before The brazen doors, whereof the one was She, Who draws this way and that the fitful sea ; The other the great God, the Life of man, 429 Who makes the brown earth green, the green earth wan, From spring to autumn, through quick follo^\^ng days, The lovely archer with his croAvn of rays. Now over against this temple, towering high Above all houses, rose majestically .Petes' marble house ; silent it stood. Brushed round by doves, though many a stream of blood Had trickled o'er its stones since it was built, MOREIS J) (J 402 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vi But now, unconscious of all woe and guilt, It drank the sunlight that fair afternoon. Then spake JEetes : ' Stranger, thou shalt soon 440 Hear all thou wouldst hear in my house of gold ; Yet ere thou enterest the door, behold That ancient temple of the Far Darter, And know that thy desire hangeth there. Against the gold wall of the inmost shrine. Guarded by seven locks, whose keys are thine When thou hast done what else thou hast to do, And thou mayst well be bold to come thereto.' ' King,' said the prince, ' fear not, but do thy part, Nor look to see me turn back faint of heart, 450 Though I may die as my forefathers died. Who, living long, their loved souls failed to hide From death at last, however wise they were. But verily, King, thy house is fair. And here I think to see full many a thing Men love ; so, whatso the next day may bring. Right merrily shall pass these coming hours Amidst fair things and wine-cups crowned with flowers.' ' Enter, guests,' the king said, ' and doubt not Ye shall see things to make the heart grow hot 460 With joy and longing.' As he spoke, within Blew up the horns, as when a king doth win His throne at last, and from behind, the men Who hedged the heroes in, shouted as when He stands up on his throne, hidden no more. Then those within threw open wide the door. And straight the king took Jason by the hand, And entered, and the Minyae did stand In such a hall as there has never been Before or afterwards, since Ops was queen. 470 The pillars, made the mighty roof to hold, The one was silver and the next was gold. All down the hall ; the roof, of some strange wood Brought over sea, was dyed as red as blood, Set thick with silver flowers, and delight Of intertwining figures wrought aright. I I 438-510 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 403 With richest webs the marble walls were hung, Picturing sweet stories by the poets sung From ancient days, so that no wall seemed there, But rather forests black and meadows fair, 480 And streets of well-built towns, with tumbling seas About their marble wharves and palaces ; And fearful crags and mountains ; and all trod By changing feet of giant, nymph and God, Spear-shaking warrior and slim-ankled maid. The floor, moreover, of the place was laid With coloured stones, wrought like a flowery mead ; And ready to the hand for every need. Midmost the hall, two fair streams trickled down O'er wondrous gem-like pebbles, green and bro^\^l, 490 Betwixt smooth banks of marble, and therein Bright-coloured fish shone through the water thin. Now, 'midst these wonders were there tables spread. Whither the wondering seafarers were led. And there with meat and drink full delicate Were feasted, and strange dainty things they ate. Of unused savour, and drank godlike wine ; While from the golden galleries, divine. Heart -softening music breathed about the place ; And 'twixt the pillars, at a gentle pace, 5°° Passed lovely damsels, raising voices sweet And shrill unto the music, while their feet From thin dusk raiment now and then would gleam Upon the polished edges of the stream. Long sat the Minyse there, and for their parts Few words they said, because, indeed, their hearts, O'er-burdened Vith delight, still dreaded death ; Nor did they think that they might long draw breath In such an earthly Paradise as this. But looked to find sharp ending to their bliss. 510 48-i By many a changing foot of nymph and God, D d 2 404 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vn BOOK VII Jason first sees Medea— The magic potion of Medea. So long they sat, until at last the sun Sank in the sea, and noisy day was done. Then bade ^etes light the place, that they Might turn grim-looking night into the day ; Whereon, the scented torches being brought, As men with shaded eyes the shadows sought, Turning to Jason, spake the king these words : — ' Dost thou now wonder, guest, that with sharp swords And mailed breasts of men I fence myself, Not as a pedlar guarding his poor pelf, lo But as a God shutting the door of heaven. Behold ! O Prince, for threescore years and seven Have I dwelt here in bliss, nor dare I give The fleece to thee, lest I should cease to live ; Nor dare I quite this treasure to withhold. Lest to the Gods I seem grown over-bold ; For many a cunning man I have, to tell Divme foresho wings of the oracle. And thus they warn me. Therefore shalt thou hear What well may fill a hero's heart with fear ; 20 But not from my old lips ; that thou mayst have, Whether thy life thou here wilt spill or save, At least one joy before thou comest to die : — Ho ye, bid in my lady presently ! ' But Jason, wondering what should come of this. With heart well steeled to suffer woe or bliss, Sat waiting, while within the music ceased. But from without a strain rose and increased, Till shrill and clear it drew anigh the hall, But silent at the entry did it fall ; 30 And through the place there was no other soimd But falling of light footsteps on the ground, For at the door a band of maids was seen. Who went up towards the dais, a lovely queen Being in their midst, who, coming nigh the place Where the king sat, passed at a gentle pace 1-75 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 405 Alone before the others to the board, And said : ' ^Eetes, father, and good lord. What is it thou wouldst ha,ve of me to-night ? ' ' O daughter,' said iEetes, ' tell aright 40 Unto this king's son here, who is my guest, What things he must accomplish, ere his quest Is finished, who has come this day to seek The golden fell brought hither by the Greek, The son of Athamas, the unlucky king. That he may know at last for what a thing He left the meadowy land and peaceful stead.' Then she to Jason turned her golden head, And reaching out her lovely arm, took up From off the board a rich fair-jewelled cup, 50 And said : ' prince, these hard things must ye do : — First, going to their stall, bring out the two Great brazen bulls, the king my father feeds On grass of Pontus and strange -nurtured seeds ; Nor heed what they may do, but take the plough That in their stall stands ever bright enow, And on their gleaming necks cast thou the yoke. And drive them as thou mayst, with cry and stroke. Through the grey acre of the God of War. ' Then, when turned up the long straight furrows are, 60 Take thou the sack that holds the serpents' teeth Our fathers slew upon the sunless heath ; There sow those evil seeds, and bide thou there Till they send forth a strange crop, nothing fair. Which garner thou, if thou canst 'scape from death. ' But if thereafter still thou drawest breath, Then shalt thou have the seven keys of the shrme Wherein the beast's fair golden locks yet shine ; But yet sing not the song of triumph then. Or think thyself the luckiest of men ; 70 For just within the brazen temple -gates The guardian of the fleece for ever waits, — A fork-tongued dragon, charmed for evermore To writhe and wallow on the precious floor. Sleepless, upon whose skin no steel will bite. 406 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASO]S[ vn ' If then with such an one thou needs must fight, Or knowest arts to tame him, do thy worst. Nor, carrying off the prize, shalt thou be curst By us or any God. But yet, think well If these three things be not impossible So To any man ; and make a bloodless end Of this thy quest, and as my father's friend Well gifted, in few days return m peace, Lacking for nought, forgetful of the fleece.' Therewith she made an end ; but while she spoke Came Love unseen, and cast his golden yoke About them both, and sweeter her voice grew, And softer ever, as betwixt them flew. With fluttering wings, the new-born, strong desire ; And when her eyes met his grey eyes, on fire 9° With that that burned her, then with sweet new shame Her fair face reddened, and there went and came Delicious tremors through her. But he said : — ' A bitter song thou singest, royal maid, Unto a sweet tune ; yet doubt not that I To-morrow this so certain death will try ; And dying, may perchance not pass unwept, And with sweet memories may my name be kept, That men call Jason of the Minyse.' Then said she, trembling : ' Take, then, this of me, And drink in token that thy life is passed, loi And that thy reckless hand the die has cast.' Therewith she reached the cup to liim, but he Stretched out his hand, and took it joj-fully. As with the cup he touched her dainty hand. Nor was she loth, awhile with him to stand, Forgetting all else in that honied pain. At last she turned, and with head raised again He drank, and swore for nought to leave that quest Till he had reached the worst end or the best ; no And down the hall the clustering Minyse Shouted for joy his godlike face to see. But she, departing, made no further sign Of her desires, but, while with song and wine 76-152 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 407 They feasted till the fevered night was late, Within her bower she sat, made blind by fate. But, when all hushed and still the palace grew, She put her gold robes off, and on her drew A dusky gown, and with a wallet small And cutting wood-knife girt herself -withal, 120 And from her dainty chamber softly passed Through stairs and corridors, until at last She came down to a gilded Watergate, Which with a golden key she opened straight, And swiftly stept into a little boat, And, pushing off from shore, began to float Adown the stream, and with her tender hands And half -bared arms, the wonder of all lands, Rowed strongly through the starlit gusty night As though she knew the watery way aright. 130 So, from the city being gone apace. Turning the boat's head, did she near a space Where, by the water's edge, a thick yew wood Made a black blot on the dim gleaming flood : But when she reached it, dropping either oar Upon the grassy bank, she leapt ashore And to a yew-bough made the boat's head fast. Then here and there quick glances did she cast And listened, lest some wanderer should be nigh. Then by the river's side she tremblingly 140 Undid the bands that bound her yellow hair And let it float about her, and made bare Her shoulder and right arm, and, kneeling doMTi, Drew off her shoes, and girded up her gown, And in the river washed her silver feet And trembling hands, and then turned round to meet The yew-wood's darkness, gross and palpable, As though she made for some place known full well. Beneath her feet the way was rough enow, And often would she meet some trunk or bough, 150 And draw back shrinking, then press on again With eager steps, not heeding fear or pain ; 116 bower she sat] chamber sat 408 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vn At last an open space she came unto, Where the faint glimmering starlight, shining through, Showed in the midst a circle of smooth grass, Through which, from dark to dark, a stream did pass, And all around was darkness like a wall. So, kneeling there, she let the wallet fall. And from it drew a bundle of strange wood Wound all about with strings as red as blood ; i6o Then breaking these, into a little pyre The twigs she built, and swiftly kindling fire, Set it alight, and with her head bent low Sat patiently, and watched the red flames grow Till it burned bright and lit the dreary place ; Then, leaving it, she went a little space Into the shadow of the circling trees With wood-knife drawn, and whiles upon her knees She dropt, and sweeping the sharp knife around. Took up some scarce-seen thing from off the ground 170 And thrust it in her bosom, and at last Into the darkness of the trees she passed. Meanwhile, the new fire burned with clear red flame. Not wasting aught ; but when again she came Into its light, within her caught-up gown Much herbs she had, and on her head a crown Of dank night-flowering grasses, known to few. But, casting down the mystic herbs, she drew From out her wallet a bowl polished bright, Brazen, and wrought with figures black and white, 180 Which from the stream she filled with water thin. And, kneeling by the fire, cast therein Shreddings of many herbs, and setting it Amidst the flames, she watched them curl and flit About the edges of the blackening brass. But when strange fumes began therefrom to pass, And clouds of thick white smoke about her flew, And colourless and sullen the fire grew. Unto her fragrant breast her hand she set, And drew therefrom a bag of silken fret, 190 And into her right palm she gently shook 173 the new fire] the fire 188 sullen] dull IS3-230 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 409 Three grains of something small that had the look Of millet seeds, then laid the bag once more On that sweet hidden place it kissed before. And, lifting up her right hand, murmured low : — Three-formed, Venerable, dost thou know That I have left to-night my golden bed On the sharp pavement of thy wood to shed Blood from my naked feet, and from mine eyes Intolerable tears ; to pour forth sighs 200 In the thick darkness, as with footsteps weak And trembling knees I prowl about to seek That which I need forsooth, but fear to find ? What wouldest thou, my Lady ? art thou blind, Or sleepest thou, or dost thou, dread one, see About me somewhat that misliketh thee ? What crown but thine is on mine unbound hair. What jewel on my arms, or have I care Against the flinty windings of thy wood To guard my feet ? or have I thought it good 210 To come before thee with unwashen hands ? ' And this my raiment : Goddess, from three lands The fleeces it was woven with were brought Where deeds of thine in ancient days were wrought, Delos, and Argos, and the Carian mead ; Nor was it made, Goddess, with small heed ; By unshod maidens was the yam well spun. And at the moonrise the close web begun. And finished at the dawning of the light. ' Nought hides me from the unseen eyes of night 220 But this alone, what dost thou then to me. That at my need my flame sinks wretchedly, And all is vain I do ? Ah, is it so That to some other helper I must go Better at need ; wilt thou then take my part Once more, and pity my divided heart ? For never was I vowed to thee alone. Nor didst thou bid me take the tight-drawn zone, And follow through the twilight of the trees The glancing limbs of trim-shod huntresses. 230 410 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vn Therefore, look do^vn upon me, and see now These grains of what thou knowest, I will throw Upon the flame, and then, if at my need Thou still wilt help me, help ; but if indeed I am forsaken of thee utterly, The naked knees of Venus will I try ; And I may hap ere long to please her well And one more story they may have to tell Who in the flowery isle her praises sing.' So speaking, on the dulled fire did she fling 240 The unknown grains ; but when the Three -formed heard From out her trembling lips that impious word, She granted all her asking, though she knew What evil road Medea hurried to She fain had barred against her on that night. So, now again the fire flamed up bright. The smoke grew thin, and in the brazen bowl. Boiling, the mingled herbs did twine and roll, And with new light Medea's wearied eyes Gleamed in the fireshine o'er those mysteries ; 250 And, taking a green twig from off the ground. Therewith she stirred the mess, that cast around A shower of hissing sparks and vapour white. Sharp to the taste, and 'wildering to the sight ; Which when she saw, the vessel off she drew. As though the ending of her toil she knew, And cooling for awhile she let it stand. But at the last therem she laid her hand, And when she drew it out she thrust the same Amidst the fire, but neither coal or flame 260 The tender rosy flesh covild harm a whit. Nor was there mark or blemish left on it. Then did she pour whatso the bowl did hold Into a fair gemmed phial wrought of gold She drew out from the wallet, and straightway Stopping the mouth, in its owti place did lay The well-wrought phial, girding to her side The wallet that the precious thmg did hide ; 240 the dulled fire] the fire 261 flesh] hand 231-305 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 411 270 Then all the remnants of the herbs she cast On to the fire, and straight therefrom there passed A high white flame, and when that sunk, outright The lire died into the voiceless night. But toward the river did she turn again, Not heeding the roiigh ways or any pain. But rmming swiftly came imto her boat, And in the mid-stream soon was she afloat, Dra-WTi onward toward the town by flood of tide. Nor heeded she that b}^ the river side Still lay her golden shoes, a goodly prize To some rough fisher in whose sleepy eyes 280 They first should shine, the while he drew his net Against the yew wood of the Goddess set. But she, swept onward by the hurrying stream, Down in the east beheld a doubtful gleam That told of dawn ; so bent imto the oar In terror lest her folk should wake before Her will was wTought ; nor failed she now to hear From neighbouring homesteads shrilly notes and clear Of wakiiag cocks, and twittermg from the sedge Of restless birds about the river's edge ; 290 And when she drew between the city walls, She heard the hollow sovmd of rare footfalls From men who needs must wake for that or this While upon sleepers gathered dreams of bliss. Or great distress at ending of the night, And grey things coloured with the gathering light. At last she reached the gilded water-gate, And though nigh breathless, scarce she dared to wait To fasten up her shallop to the stone. Which yet she dared not leave ; so this being done, 300 Swiftly by passages and stairs she ran, Trembling and pale, though not yet seen by man, Until to Jason's chamber door she came. And there awhile indeed she stayed, for shame Rose up against her fear ; but mighty love 412 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vn And the sea-hauiiting rose- crowned seed of Jove O'ermastered both ; so trembling, on the pin She laid her hand, but ere she entered in She covered up again her shoulder sweet, And dropped her dusky raiment o'er her feet ; 310 Then entering the dimly-lighted room. Where with the lamp dawn struggled, through the gloom, Seeking the prince she peered, who sleeping lay Upon his gold bed, and abode the day Smiling, still clad in arms, and round his sword His fingers met ; then she, with a soft word. Came nigh him, and from out his slackened hand With slender rosy fingers drew the brand, Then kneelmg, laid her hand upon his breast, And said : ' Jason, wake up from thy rest, 320 Perchance from thy last rest, and speak to me.' Then fell his light sleep from him suddenly, And on one arm he rose, and clenched his hand, Raising it up, as though it held the brand, And on this side and that began to stare. But bringing close to him her visage fair. She whispered : ' Smite not, for thou hast no sword, Speak not above thy breath, for one loud word May slay both thee and me. Day grows apace ; What day thou knowest ! Canst thou see my face ? Last night thou didst behold it with such eyes, 331 That I, Medea, wise among the wise, The safeguard of my father and his land, Who have been used with steady eyes to stand In awful groves alone with Hecate, Henceforth must call myself the bond of thee. The fool of love ; speak not, but kiss me, then. Yea, kiss my lips, that not the best of men Has touched ere thou. Alas, quick comes the day ! Draw back, but hearken what I have to say, 340 For every moment do I dread to hear Thy wakened folk, or our folk drawing near ; Therefore I speak as if with my last breath. Shameless, beneath the shadowing wings of death. 317 Came] Drew 306-384 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 413 That still may let us twain again to meet, And snatch from bitter love the bitter sweet That some folk gather while they wait to die. ' Alas, I loiter, and the day is nigh ! (Soothly I came to bring thee more than this, The memory of an miasked fruitless kiss 350 Upon thy death-day, which this day would be If there were not some little help in me.' Therewith from out her wallet did she draw The phial, and a crystal without flaw Shaped like an apple, scored with words about, Then said : ' But now I bid thee have no doubt. With this oil hidden by these gems and gold Anomt thine arms and body, and be bold, Nor fear the fire -breathing bulls one whit. Such mighty virtue have I drawn to it, 360 Whereof I give thee proof.' Therewith her hand She thrust into the lamp -flame that did stand Anigh the bed, and showed it him again Unscarred by any wound or drawn with pain. Then said : ' Now, when Mars' plain is ploughed at last And in the furrows those ill seeds are cast, Take thou this ball in hand and watch the thing ; Then shalt thou see a horrid crop upsprmg Of all-armed men therefrom to be thy bane, Were I not here to make their fury vain. 37c Draw not thy sword against them as they rise. But cast this ball amid them, and their eyes Shall serve them then but little to see thee, And each of others' weapons slain shall be. ' Now Avill my father hide his rage at heart. And praise thee much that thou hast played thy part, And bid thee to a banquet on this night, And pray thee wait until to-morrow's light Before thou triest the Temple of the Fleece. Trust not to him, but see that mito Greece 380 The ship's prow turns, and all is ready there. And at the banquet let thy men forbear The maddening wine, and bid them arm them all For what upon this night may chance to fall. 414 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vn ' But I will get by stealth the keys that hold The seven locks which guard the Fleece of Gold ; And while we try the fleece, let thy men steal, How so they may, unto thy ready keel, Thus art thou saved alive with thy desire. ' But what' thing will be left to me but fire ? 390 The fire of fierce despair within my heart. The while I reap my guerdon for my part, Curses and torments, and in no long space Real fire of pme-wood in some rocky place, Wreathing around my body greedily, A dreadful beacon o'er the leaden sea.' But Jason drew her to him, and he said : — ' Nay, by these tender hands and golden head, That savmg thmgs for me have wrought to-night, I know not what ; by this unseen delight 400 Of thy fair body, may I rather burn, Nor may the flame die ever if I turn Back to my hollow ship, and leave thee here, Who in one minute art become so dear, Thy limbs so longed for, that at last I know Why men have been content to suffer woe Past telling, if the Gods but granted this, A little while such lips as thine to kiss, A little while to drink such deep delight. ' What wouldst thou ? Wilt thou go from me ? Tho light 410 Is grey and tender yet, and in your land Surely the twilight, lingering long, doth stand 'Twixt dawn and day.' ' O Prince,' she said, ' I came To save your life. I cast off fear and shame A little while, but fear and shame are here. The hand thou boldest trembles with my fear. With shame my cheeks are burning, and the sound Of mine own voice : but ere this hour comes round, We twam will be betwixt the dashing oars, 385 But I will] Now will I 404 minute] hour 385-452 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 415 The ship still making for the Grecian shores. 420 Farewell, till then, though in the lists to-day Thyself shalt see me, watching out the play.' Therewith she drew off from him, and was gone, And in the chamber Jason left alone, Praising the heavenly one, the Queen of Jove, Pondered upon this unasked gift of love, And all the changing wonder of his life. But soon he rose to fit him for the strife, And ere the sun his orb began to lift O'er the dark hills, with fair Medea's gift 430 His arms and body he anointed well, And round about his neck he hung the spell Against the earth-born, the fair crystal ball Laid in a purse, and then from wall to wall. Athwart the chamber paced full eagerly, Expecting when the fateful time should be. Meanwhile, Medea coming to her room Unseen, lit up the slowly parting gloom With scented torches : then bound up her hair, And stripped the dark gown from her body fair, 440 And laid it with the brass bowl in a chest. Where many a day it had been wont to rest, Brazen and bound with iron, and whose key No eye but hers had ever happed to see. Then wearied, on her bed she cast her do-mi. And strove to think ; but soon the uneasy fro^vn Faded from off her brow, her lips closed tight But now, just parted, and her fingers white Slackened their hold upon -the coverlet, And o'er her face faint smiles began to flit, 450 As o'er the summer pool the faint soft air : So instant and so kind the God was there. 416 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vm BOOK VIII The taming of the brazen bulls — The destruction of the Earth-born. Now when she woke again the bright sun glared In at the window, and the trumpets blared, Shattering the sluggish air of that hot day, For fain the king \<'ould be upon his way. Then straight she called her maidens, who forthright Did due observance to her body white. And clad her in the raiment of a queen, And round her crown they set a wreath of green. But she descending, came into the hall. And found her father clad in royal pall, lo Holding the ivory rod of sovereignty. And Jason and his folk were standing by. Now was ^etes saying : ' Minyse, And you, my people, who are here by me, Take heed, that by his wilful act to-day This man will perish, neither will I slay One man among you. Nay, Prince, if you will, A safe return I give unto you still ' But Jason answered, smiling in his joy : — ' Once more, iEetes, nay. Against this toy 20 My life is pledged, let all go to the end.' Then, lifting up his eyes, he saw his friend. Made fresh, and lovelier by her quiet rest, And set his hand upon his mailed breast. Where in its covering lay the crystal ball. But the king said : ' Then let what will fall, fall ! Since time it is that we were on the way ; And thou, daughter, shalt be there to-day, And see thy father's glory once more sho-wTi Before our folk and those the Avind has blown 30 From many lands to see this play played out.' Then raised the Colchians a mighty shout, And doubtful grew the Minyae of the end. Unwitting who on that day was their friend. But down the hall the king passed, who did hold 1-73 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 417 Medea's hand, and on a car of gold They mounted, drawn anigh the carven door, And spearmen of the Colchians went before And followed after, and the Minyae Set close together followed solemnly, 40 Headed by Jason, at the heels of these. So passed they through the streets and palaces Thronged with much folk, and o'er the bridges passed, And to the open country came at last, Nor there went far, but tiirning to the right, Into a close they came, where there were dight Long galleries about the fateful stead. Built all of marble fair and roofed with lead, And carved about with stories of old time, Framed all about with golden lines of rhyme. 5c Moreover, midmost was an image made Of mighty Mars who niaketh kings afraid. That looked down on an altar builded fair, Wherefrom already did a bright foe glare And made the hot air glassy with its heat. So in the gallery did the king take seat With fair Medea, and the Colchians stood Hedging the twain in with a mighty wood Of spears and axes, while the Minyaj Stood off a space the fated things to see. 60 Ugly and rugged was that spot of ground, And with an iron wall was closed around, And at the further end a monstrous cage Of iron bars, shut in the stupid rage Of those two beasts, and therefrom ever came The flashing and the scent of sulphurous flame, As with their brazen, clangorous bellowing They hailed the coming of the Colchian king ; Nor was there one of the seafaring men But trembled, gazing on the deadly pen, 70 But Jason only, who before the rest Shone like a star, having upon his breast A golden corslet from the treasury 50 Framed all about with] And all around them 54 a bright hre] a fire MOBEis E e 418 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vm Of wise King Phineus by the doubtful sea, By an Egyptian wrought who would not stay At Salmydessa more than for a day, But on that day the wondrous breast-plate wrought, Which, with good will and strong help, Jason bought ; And from that treasury his golden shoe Came, and his thighs the king's gift covered too ; 80 But on his head his father's helm was set Wreathed round with bay leaves, and his sword lay yet Within the scabbard, while his migloved hand Bore nought within it but an olive wand. Now King iEetes well beholding him. Fearless of mien and so unmatched of limb, Trembled a little in his heart as now He bade the horn -blowers the challenge blow. But thought, ' what strength can help him, or what art. Or which of all the Gods be on his part ? ' 90 Impious, who knew not through what doubtful days, E'en from his birth, and perilous rough ways Juno had brought him safely, nor indeed Of his own daughter's quivering lips took heed. And restless hands wherein the God so wrought, The wise man seeing her had known her thought. Now Jason, when he heard the challenge blow, Across the evil fallow 'gan to go With face beyond its wont in nowise pale, Nor footstep faltering, if that might avail 100 The doomed man aught : so to the cage he came. Whose bars now glowed red hot with spouted flame. In many a place ; nor doubted any one Who there beheld him that his days were done. Except his love alone, and even she. Sickening with doubt and terror, scarce could see The hero draw the brazen bolt aside And throw the glowing wicket open wide. But he alone, apart from his desire, Stood unarmed, facing those two founts of fire, no Yet feared not aught, for hope and fear were dead 89 art] heart 74-150 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 419 Within his heart, and utter hardihead Had Juno set there ; but the awful beasts Beholding now the best of all their feasts, Roared in their joy and fury, till from sight They and the prince were hidden by the white Thick rolling clouds of sulphurous pungent smoke. Through which upon the blinded man they broke. But when within a yard of him they came. Baffled they stopped, still bellowing, and the flame 120 Still spouting out from nostril and from mouth, As from some island mountain in the south The trembling mariners behold it cast ; But still to right and left of him it passed, Breaking upon him as cool water might, Nor harming more, except that from his sight All corners of the cage were hidden now. Nor knew he where to seek the brazen plough ; As to and fro about the quivering cage The monsters rushed in blind and helpless rage. 130 But as he doubted, to his eyes alone Within the place a golden light outshone, Scattering the clouds of smoke, and he beheld Once more the Goddess who liis head upheld In rough Anaurus on that other tide ; She, smiling on him, beckoned, and 'gan glide With rosy feet across the fearful floor, Breathing cool odours round her, till a door She opened to him in the iron Avail, Through which he passed, and found a grisly stall 140 Of iron still, and at one end of it, By glimmering lamps with greenish flame half lit, Beheld the yoke and shining plough he sought ; Which, seizing straight, by mighty strength he brought Unto the doop^/nor found the Goddess there, Who in the likeness of a damsel fair, Colchian Metharma, through the spearmen passed, Bearing them wine, and causeless terror cast Into their foolish hearts, nor spared to go And 'mid the close seafaring ranks to sow 150 130 bliad and helpless] helpless and blind E e 2 420 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON viii Good hope of joyful ending, and then stood Behind the maid unseen, and brought the blood Back to her cheeks and trembling lips and wan, With thoughts of things unknown to maid or man. Meanwhile upon the foreheads of the twain Had Jason cast the yoke with little pain, And drove them now with shouts out through the door Which in such guise ne'er had they passed before, For never were they made the earth to till. But rather, feeding fat, to work the will 160 Of some all-knowing man ; but now they went Like any peasant's beasts, tamed by the scent Of those new herbs Medea's hand had plucked. Whose roots from evil earth strange power had sucked. Now in the open field did Jason stand And to the plough-stilts set his unused hand, And down betwixt them lustily he bent ; Then the bulls drew, and the bright ploughshare sent The loathly fallow up on the right side. Whilst o'er their bellowing shrilly Jason cried : — 170 ' Draw nigh, King, and thy new ploughman see, Then mayst thou make me shepherd, too, to thee ; Nor doubt thou, doing so, from out thy flock To lose but one, who ne'er shall bring thee stock, Or ram or ewe, nor doubt the grey wolf. King, Wood-haunting bear, dragon, or such like thing. Ah the straight furrow ! how it mindeth me Of the smooth parting of the land-locked sea Over against Euboea, and this fire Of the fair altar where my jo}d!ul sire iSo Will pour out wine to Neptune Avhen I come Not empty-handed back unto my home,' Such mocks he said ; but when the sunlight broke Upon his armour through the sulphurous smoke, And showed the lengthening furrow cutting through The ugly farrow as anigh they drew. The joyful Minyse gave a mighty shout ; But pale the king sat with brows knit for doubt, 186 farrow, a misprint ; read fallow as in first edition iSi-227 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 421 Muttering : ' Whose counsel hast thou taken, then, To do this thing, which not the best of men 190 Could do unholpen of some sorcery ? Whoso it is, wise were he now to die Ere yet I know him, since for many a day Vainly for death I hope to hear him pray.' Meanwhile, askance Medea eyed the king, Thinking nought safe until that everything Was finished in the Colchian land, and she No more beheld its shores across the sea ; But he, beholding her pale visage, thought Grief like to his such paleness on her brought, 200 And turning to her, said : ' How pale thou art ! Let not this first foil go unto thine heart Too deeply, since thou knowest certainly, One way or other this vain fool must die.' * Father,' she said, ' a doubt is on me still, Some God this is come here our wealth to spill ; Nor is this first thing easier than the rest.' Then stammering, she said : ' Were it not best To give him that which he must have at last, Before he slays us.' But i^etes cast 210 A sharp glance at her, and a pang shot through His weary heart as half the truth he knew. But for one moment, and he made rejoly In passionate words : ' Then, daughter, let me die ! And, ere I die, behold thee led along A wretched slave to suffer grief and wTong In far-off lands, and ^a at thy back Nought but a huge flame hiding woe and wrack. Before from out my willing open hand This wonder, and the safeguard of my land 220 A God shall take ; and such this man is not. What ! dost thou think because his feyes are hot On tender maidens he must be a God ? Or that because firmly this field he trod Well-fenced with magic ? Were he like to me, Grey-haired and lean, what Godhead wouldst thou see In such an one ? Hold, then, thy peace of this, 202 Yet let not this first foil go to thine heart 213 and] as 422 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vm And thou shalt see thy God full widely miss The mark he aims at, when from out the earth Spring up those brothers of an evil birth.' 230 And therewithal he gazed at her, and thought To see the rosy flush by such words brought Across her face ; as in the autumn eve, Just as the sun's last half begins to leave The shivering world, both east and west are red. — But calm and pale she turned about her head. And said : ' My father, neither were these words My words, nor would I struggle with my lords ; Thou art full wise ; whatso thine heart would have That do, and heed me not, who fain would save 240 This glory of thy kingdom and of thee. But now look up, and soothly thou shalt see Mars' acre tilled : the field is ready then. Bid them bring forth the seed that beareth men.' Again with her last words the shouts out-broke From the seafearers, for, beside the yoke, Before Mars' altar did Prince Jason stand, Holding the wand of olive in his hand. And on the new-turned furrow shone the sun Behind him, and his half -day's work was done 250 And now another marvel : for, behold, As at the furrow's end he slacked his hold Upon the plough-stilts, all the bellowing Wherewith the beasts had made the grim close ring, Fell suddenly, and all the fire died That they were wont erewhile to scatter wide From mouth and nostril, and their loins and knees Stiffened, and they grew nought but images Lifelike but lifeless, wonderful but dead, Such as he makes, who many a day hath fed 260 His furnace with the beechwood, when the clay Has grown beneath his deft hands day by day And all is ready for the casting, then Such things as these he makes for royal men. 245 out- broke] broke out 246 seafearers, a misprint ; read seafarers as in first edition 228-302 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 423 But 'mid the shouts turned Jason to the king, And said : ' Fair sir, behold a wondrous thing. And since these beasts have been content to stay Before Mars' altar, from this very day His should they be if they were mine to give.' ' Jason,' said the king, ' well mayst thou live 270 For many a day, since thou this deed hast done, But for the Gods, not unto any one Will I give gifts ; but let them take from me What once they gave, if so the thing must be. But do thou take this sack from out my hand And cast its seed about the new-tilled land, And watch the issue ; and keep Avords till then, I counsel thee, luckiest of men.' Then Jason took the sack, and with it went About that field new turned, and broadcast sent 280 The white teeth scattering, but or ere he came Back to the altar, and the flickering flame, He heard from 'neath the earth a muttered sound That grew and grew, till all that piece of ground Swelled into little hillocks, like as where A stricken field was foughten, but that there Quiet the heroes' bones lie underneath The quivering grasses and the dusky heath ; But now these heaps the labouring earth upthrew About Mars' acre, ever greater grew, 290 And still increased the noise, till none could hear His fellow speak, and paleness and great fear Fell upon all ; and Jason only stood As stands the stout oak in the poplar wood When winds are blowing. Then he saw the mounds Bursten asunder, and the muttered sounds Changed into loud strange shouts and warlike clang, As with freed feet at last the earth-born sprang On to the tumbling earth, and the sunlight Shone on bright arms clean ready for the fight. 300 But terribly they showed, for through the place Not one there was but had his staring face, 424 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vni With great wide eyes, and lips in a set smile, Turned full on Jason, who, for a short while. Forgot indeed Medea's warning word, And from its golden sheath half drew his sword, But then, remembering all, cried valiantly : ' New born ye are — new slain too shall ye be, Take this, and round about it read your doom. And bid them make new dwellings in the tomb, 310 Wherefrom ye came, nor ever should have passed.' Therewith the ball among the host he cast, Standing to watch what next that folk would do. But he the ball had smitten turned unto The one who stood by him and like a cup Shattered his head ; then the next lifted up His axe and slew the slayer, and straightway Among the rest began a deadly fray. No man gave back a foot, no breathing space One took or gave within that dreadful place, 320 But where the vanquished stood there was he slain, And straight the conquering arm was raised again To meet its match and in its turn to fall. No tide was there of fainting and recall. No quivering pennon o'er their heads to flit, Nor name or eager shout called over it. No groan of pain, and no despairing cry From him who knows his time has come to die. But passionless each bore him in that fight. Scarce otherwise than as a smith might smite 330 On sounding iron or bright glittering brass. So, little by little, did the clamour pass As one by one each fell down in his place. Until at last, midmost the bloody space, One man was left, alive but wounded sore. Who, staring round about and seeing no more His brothers' spears against him, fixed his eyes Upon the queller of those mysteries. Then dreadfully they gleamed, and with no word. He tottered towards him with uplifted sword. 340 But scarce he made three paces down the field. Ere chill death reached his heart, and on his shield 303-382 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 425 Clattering he fell. So satiate of fight Quickly the earth-born were, and their delight With what it fed on perished, and one hour Ripened the deadly fruit of that fell flower. Then, Jason, mocking, cried unto the king : — ' wonderful, indeed, must be the thing Thou guardest with such wondrous guards as these ; Make no delay, therefore, but bring the keys 350 That I may see this dear delight of all.' But on JEetes' face a change did fall, As though a mask had been set over it, And smiles of little meaning 'gan to flit O'er his thin lips, as he spake out at last : — ' No haste, dear guest, for surely now is passed All enmity from 'twixt us, since I know How like a God thou art ; and thou shalt go To-morrow to thy ship, to make for Greece ; And with no trial more, bear back the fleece 360 Along our streets, and like no conquered thing, But with much scattered flowers and tabouring, Bearing with it great gifts and all my love ; And in return, I -pray thee, pray to Jove, That I may have a few more years of life, And end at last in honour, free from strife. And now to-night be merry, and let time Be clean forgotten, and bring Saturn's clime And golden days upon our flower-crownied brows, For of the unseen future what man knows ? ' 370 ' King,' said Jason, ' for these words I praise Thy wisdom much, and wish thee happy days. And I will give thee honour as I can, Naming thee ever as a noble man Through all the lands I come to : and will take Thy gifts, indeed, and thou, for Jason's sake, Shalt have gifts too, whatso thy soul may wish, From out our keel that has escaped the fish.' So spake those wary foes, fair friends in look, And so in words great gifts they gave and took, 380 And had small profit, and small loss thereby. Nor less Medea feigned, but angrily 426 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vm Regarded Jason, and across her brow Drew close her veil, nor doubted the king now Her faith and loyalty. So from the place Back toward the town they turned at a soft pace, In guise of folk that hold high festival, Since straightly had ^etes bid that all Should do the strangers pleasure on that day. But warily went Jason on the way, 390 And through his folk spread words, to take good heed Of what might come, and ready be at need. Nor yet to take ^Eetes for their friend, Since even then he plotted how to end Their quest and lives : therefore he bade them spare The wine that night, nor look on damsels fair ; But that, the feast done, all should stealthily Get to the quay, and round about to sea Turn Argo's head, and wait like hounds in slip, Holding the oars, within the hollow ship. 400 ' Nor doubt,' said he, ' that good and glorious The end shall be, since all the Gods for us Are fighting certainly : but should deat^h come Upon me in this land, then turn back home, Nor wait till they shall lay your bones with mine, Since now I think to go unto the shrine. The wliile ye wait, and take therefrom the fleece, Not all unholpen, and depart in peace, While yet the barbarous king beholds us dead In dreams alone, or through his waking head 410 The vile plots chase each other for our death.' These things he said, but scarce above his breath, Unto wise Nestor, who beside him went. Who unto Butes straight the message sent. And he to Phlias, so the words at last Throughout the wondering seafarers had passed, And so were all made ready for the night. But on that eve, with manifold delight, ^etes feasted them in his fair hall ; But they, well knowing what might chance to fall, 420 383-460 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 427 Sat saying little, nor drank deep of wine ; Until at last the old king gave the sign To break the feast up, and within a while All seemed asleep throughout the mighty pile All seemed asleep, but now Medea went With beating heart to work out her intent, Scarce doubtful of the end, since only two In all the world, she and ^Eetes, knew Where the keys were, far from the light of day, Beneath the palace. So, in garments grey, 43° Like the soft creeping twilight did she go, Until she reached a passage far below The river, past whose oozing walls of stone She and the king alone had ever gone. Now she, who thus far had come through the dark, Stopped, and in haste striking a little spark From something in her hand, lit up a lamp. Whose light fell on an iron door, with damp All rusted red, which with a key of brass She opened, and there through made haste to pass, 440 Shuddering a little, as her feet 'gan tread Upon a dank cold floor, though overhead High-arched the place was, fairly built enow. But she across the slippery floor did go Unto the other wall, wherein was built A little aumbrye, with a door o'er-gilt, That with the story of King Athamas, And Phryxus, and the ram all carven was. There did she draw forth from her balmy breast A yellow flowering herb, that straight she pressed 450 LTpon the lock, low muttering the while ; But soon across her face there passed a smile, As backward in the lock the bolts did turn, And the door opened ; then a golden urn She saw within the aumbrye, whereon she Drew out the thing she sought for eagerly, The seven keys with sere-cloth done about. Then through the dreary door did she pass out. And made it fast, and went her way once more Through the black darkness on from floor to floor. 460 428 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON vm.461 And so, being come to Jason, him she found All armed, and ready ; therefore, with no sound, She beckoned him to follow, and the twain Passed through the brazen doors, locked all in vain, Such virtue had the herb Medea bore, And passing, did they leave ajar each door, To give more ease unto the Minyse. So out into the fresh night silently The lovers passed, the loveliest of the land ; But as they went, neither did hand touch hand, 47° Or face seek face ; for, gladsome as they were, Trembling with joy to be at last so near The wished-for day, some God yet seemed to be 'Twixt the hard past and their felicity. BOOK IX The Fleece taken from the temple— The departure of Argo — The death of Absyrtus But when they reached the precinct of the God, And on the hallowed turf their feet now trod, Medea turned to Jason, and she said : — ' love, turn round, and note the goodlihead My father's palace shows beneath the stars. Bethink thee of the men grown old in wars, Who do my bidding ; what delights I have. How many ladies lie in wait to save My life from toil and carefulness, and think How sweet a cup I have been used to drink, 10 And how I cast it to the ground for thee. Upon the day thou weariest of me, I wish that thou mayst somcAvhat think of this. And 'twixt thy new-found kisses, and the bliss Of something sweeter than thine old delight, Remember thee a little of this night Of marvels, and this starlit, silent place, And these two lovers standing face to face.' ' love,' he said, ' by what thing shall I swear, IX. 56 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 429 That while I live thou shalt not be less dear 20 Than thou art now ? ' ' Nay, sweet,' she said, ' let be ; Wert thou more fickle than the restless sea, Still should I love thee, knowing thee for such ; Whom I know not, indeed, but fear the touch Of Fortune's hand when she beholds our bliss, And knows that nought is good to me but this. ' But now be ready, for I long full sore To hear the merry dashing of the oar. And feel the freshness of the following breeze That sets me free, and sniff the rough salt seas. 30 Look ! yonder thou mayst see armed shadows steal Down to the quays, the guiders of thy keel ; Now follow me, though little shalt thou do To gain this thing, if Hecate be true Unto her servant. Nay, draw not thy sword, And, for thy life, speak not a single word Until I bid thee, else may all be lost, And of this game our lives yet pay the cost.' Then toward the brazen temple-door she went, Wherefrom, half -open, a faint gleam was sent ; 40 For little need of lock it had forsooth, Because its sleepless guardian knew no ruth, And had no lust for precious things or gold, Whom, drawing near, Jason could now behold. As back Medea thrust the heavy door. For prone he lay upon the gleaming floor. Not moving, though his restless, glittering eyes Left them no hope of wile or of surprise. Hideous he was, where all things else were fair ; Dull-skinned, foul-spotted, with lank rusty hair 50 About his neck ; and hooked yellow claws Just showed from 'neath his belly and huge jaws, Closed in the hideous semblance of a smile. Then Jason shuddered, wondering with what guile That fair king's daughter such a beast could tame. And of liis sheathed sword had but little shame. 48 Gave unto them no least hope of surprise 54 guile] wile 430 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ix But being within the doors, both mantle grey And heavy gown Medea cast away. And in thin cHnging silk alone was clad, And round her neck a golden chain she had, 60 Whereto was hung a harp of silver white. Then the great dragon, at that glittering sight, Raised himself up upon his loathly feet, As if to meet her, while her fingers sweet Already moved amongst the golden strings, Preluding nameless and delicious things ; But now she beckoned Jason to her side, For slowly towards them 'gan the beast to glide, And when close to his love the hero came, She whispered breathlessly : ' On me the blame 70 If here we perish ; if I give the word. Then know that all is lost, and draw thy sword, And manlike die in battle with the beast ; So dying shalt thou fail to see at least This body thou desiredst so to see, In thy despite here mangled wretchedly. Peace, for he cometh, thou Goddess bright. What help wilt thou be unto me this night ? ' So murmured she, while ceaselessly she drew Her fingers through the strings, and fuller grew 80 The tinkling music, but the beast drawn nigh Went slower still, and turning presently Began to move around them in a ring. And as he went, there fell a strange rattling Of his dry scales ; but as he turned, she turned, Nor failed to meet the eyes that on her burned With steadfast eyes, and, lastly, clear and strong Her voice broke forth in sweet melodious song : — * evil thing, what brought thee here To be a wonder and a fear 90 Unto the river- haunting folk ? Was it the God of Day that broke The shadow of thy windless trees, Gleaming from golden palaces, 57-134 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 431 And shod with light and armed with light, Made thy slime stone, and day thy night, And drove thee forth unwillingly Within his golden house to lie ? ' Or was it the slim messenger, Who, treading softly, free from fear, loo Beguiled thee with his smiling face From out thy dim abiding place. To follow him and set thee down Midst of this twice-washed royal town ? ' Or, was it rather the dread Lord Who slayeth without spear or sword, And with the flower-culling maid Of Enna, dwelleth in the shade, Who, with stern voice compelling thee. Hath set thee here, oiu" bane to be ? no ' Or was it Venus, seeking far A sleepless guard 'gainst grief and war. Who, journeying through thy dismal land, Beside the heavy lake did stand, And with no word, but very sight Of tender limbs and bosom white, Drew forth thy scaly feet and hard, To follow over rock and shard ? ' Or rather, thy dull, waveless lake Didst thou not leave for her dread sake, 120 Who, passing swift from glade to glade, The forest-dwellers makes afraid With shimmering of her silver bow And dreadful arrows ? Even so I bid thee now to yield to me. Her maid, who overmastered thee, The three -formed dreadful one who reigns In heaven and the fiery plains, But on the green earth best of all. ' Lo, now thine upraised crest let fall, 130 Helax thy limbs, let both thine eyes Be closed, and bestial fantasies Fill thy dull head till dawn of day And we are far upon our way.' 432 THE LIFE x\ND DEATH OF JASON ix As thus she sung the beast seemed not to hear Her words at first, but ever drew anear, Circling about them, and Medea's face Grew pale unto the lips, though still the place Rung with the piercing sweetness of her song ; But slower soon he dragged his length along, 140 And on his limbs he tottered, till at last All feebly by the wondering prince he passed, And whining to Medea's feet he crept, With eyes half closed, as though well-nigh he slept, And there before her laid his head adown ; Who, shuddering, on his wrinkled neck and brown Set her white foot, and whispered : ' Haste, love ! Behold the keys ; haste ! while the Gods above Are friendly to us ; there behold the shrine Where thou canst see the lamp of silver shine. 150 Nay, draw not death upon both thee and me With fearless kisses ; fear, until the sea Shall fold green arms about us lovingly, And Idndly Venus to thy keel be nigh.' Then lightly from her soft side Jason stept. While still upon the beast her foot she kept. Still murmuring gently many an unknown word. As when through half -shut casements the brown bird We hearken when the night is come in June, And thick-leaved woods are 'twixt us and his tune. 160 But Jason, going swiftly with good heart, Came to the wished-for shrine built all apart Midmost the temple, that on pillars stood Of jasper green, and marble red as blood. All white itself and carven cunningly With Neptmie bringing from the wavy sea The golden shining ram to Athamas ; And the first door thereof of silver was, Wrought over with a golden glittering sun That seemed well-nigh alike the heavenly one. 150 Such art therein the cunningest of men Had used, which little Jason heeded then, 157 gently] softly 135-210 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 433 But thrusting in the lock the smallest key Of those he bore, it opened easily ; And then five others, neither wrought of gold, Or carved with tales, or lovely to behold, He opened ; but before the last one stayed His hand, wherein the heavy key he weighed, And pondering, in low muttered word, he said : — ' The prize is reached, which yet I somewhat dread To draw unto me ; since I know indeed, i8i That henceforth war and toil shall be my meed, — Too late to fear, it was too late, the hour I left the grey cliffs and the beechen bower, So here I take hard life and deathless praise. Who once desired nought but quiet days, And painless life, not empty of delight ; I, who shall now be quickener of the fight, Named by a great name — a far-babbled name, The ceaseless seeker after praise and fame. 190 ' May all be well, and on the noisy ways Still may I find some wealth of happy days.' Therewith he threw the last door open wide, Whose hammered iron did the marvel hide, And shut his dazzled eyes, and stretched his hands Out toward the sea-born wonder of all land?. And plunged them deep within the locks of gold, Grasping the fleece within his mighty hold. Which when Medea saw, her gown of grey She caught up from the ground, and drew away 200 Her wearied foot from off the rugged beast, And while from her soft strain she never ceased, In the dull folds she hid her silk from sight, And then, as bending 'neath the burden bright, Jason drew nigh, joyful, yet still afraid, She met him, and her wide grey mantle laid Over the fleece, whispering : ' Make no delay ; He sleeps, who never slept by night or day Till now ; nor will his charmed sleep be long. Light foot am I, and sure thine arms are strong ; 210 197 plunged them deep A^ithin] buried them deep in MORRIS Y f 434 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ix Haste, then ! No word ! nor turn about to gaze At me, as he who in the shadowy ways Turned round to see once more the twice-lost face.' Then swiftly did they leave the dreadful place. Turning no look behind, and reached the street, That with familiar look and kind did greet Those wanderers, mazed with marvels and with fear. And so, unchallenged, did they draw anear The long white quays, and at the street's end now Beheld the ships' masts standing row by row 220 Stark black against the stars : then cautiously Peered Jason forth, ere they took heart to try The open starlit place ; but nought he saw Except the night-wind twitcliing the loose straw From half -unloaded keels, and nought he heard But the strange twittering of a caged green bird Within an Indian ship, and from the liill A distant baying : yea, all was so still, Somewhat they doubted, natheless forth they passed, And Argo's painted sides they reached at last. 230 On whom down-looking, scarce more noise they heard Than from the other ships ; some muttered word. Some creaking of the timbers, as the tide Ran gurgling seaward past her shielded side. Then Jason knelt, and whispered : ' Wise be ye, fair companions on the pathless sea. But come, Erginus, Nestor, and ye twain Of Lacedsemon, to behold my gain ; Take me amongst you, neither be afraid To take withal this gold, and this fair maid. 240 Yare ! — for the ebb runs strongly towards the sea. The east wind drives the rack to Thessaly, And lightly do such kings as this one sleep If now and then small watch their servants keep.' Then saw Medea men like shadows grey Rise from the darksome decks, who took straightway With murmured joy, from Jason's outstretched hands, The conquered fleece, the wonder of all lands. 211-287 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 435 While with strong arms he raised the royal maid, And in their hold the precious burthen laid, 250 And scarce her dainty feet could touch the deck, Ere down he leapt, and little now did reck That loudly clanged his armour therewithal. But, turning town ward, did Medea call : — ' noble Jason, and ye heroes strong. To sea, to sea ! nor pray ye loiter long ; For surely shall ye see the beacons flare Ere in mid stream ye are, and running fair On toward the sea with tide, and oar, and sail. My father wakes, nor bides he to bewail 260 His loss and me ; I see his turret gleam As he goes towards the beacon, and down stream Abs^Ttus Ivu'ks before the sandy bar In mighty keel well manned and dight for war.' But as she spoke, rattling the cable slipped From out the hawse-hole, and the long oars dipped As from the quays the heroes pushed away, And in the loosened sail the wind 'gan play ; But e'en as they vmto the stroke leaned back, And Nauplius, catching at the main-sheet slack 270 Had drawai it taut, out flared the beacon wide. Lighting the waves, and the 3' heard folk who cried : ' Awake, awake, awake, O Colchian folk ! ' And all about the blare of horns outbroke, As watch-tower answered watch-tower down the stream, Where far below they saw the bale-fires gleam ; And galloping of horses now they heard. And clang of arms, and cries of men afeard. For now the merchant mariners who lay About the town, thought surely an ill day 280 Had dawned upon them while they slept at ease, And, half awake, pushed madlj^ from the quays With crash of breaking oars and meeting ships, And cries and curses from outlandish lips ; So fell the quiet night to turmoil sore, While in the towers, over the uproar, Melodiously the bells began to ring. 249 raised] took 278 afeard] afeared r f 2 436 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ix But Argo, leaping forward to the swing Of measui'ed oars, and leaning to the breeze, Sped swiftly 'twixt the dark and whispering trees ; 290 Nor longer now the heroes silence kept. So joyously their hearts within them leapt. But loud they shouted, seeing the gold fell Laid heaped before them, and longed sore to tell Their fair adventure to the maids of Greece ; And as the mingled noises did decrease With added distance, and behind them night Grew j)ale with coming of the eastern light, Across the strings his fingers Orpheus drew, And through the woods his winged music flew : — 300 ' surely, now the fisherman Draws homeward through the water wan Across the bay we know so well. And in the sheltered chalky dell The shepherd stirs ; and now afield They drive the team with white wand peeled Muttering across the barley-bread At daily toil and dreary-head. ' And midst them all, perchance, my love Is waking, and doth gently move 310 And stretch her soft arms out to me, Forgetting thousand leagues of sea ; And now her body I behold, Unhidden but by hair of gold. And now the silver water kiss, The crown of all delight and bliss. And now I see her bind her hair And do upon her raiment fair. And now before the altar stand, With incense in her outstretched hand, 320 To supplicate the Gods for me ; Ah, one day landing from the sea, Amid the maidens shall I hear Her voice in praise, and see her near, Holding the gold-wTapt laurel crowTi, 'JVIidst of the shouting, wondering toAvn ! ' 298 pale] wan 288-362 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 437 So sung he joyously, nor knew that they Must wander yet for many an evil clay Or ever the dread Gods should let them come Back to the white walls of their long-left home. 330 But on the shouting heroes gazed adown The foundress of their triumph and reno%vn, And to her lover's side still drew anear, With heart now swelled with joy, now sick with fear, And cheeks now flushed with love, now pale and wan, As now she thought upon that goodly man, And now on the uncertain, dreadful Gods, And now upon her father, and the odds He well might raise against the reckless crew, For all liis mighty power full well she knew ; 340 No wonder therefore if her heart grew cold, And if her wretched self she did behold, Led helpless through some old familiar place. With none to turn on her a jjitymg face. Unto the death in life, she still might win ; And yet, if she should 'scai:)c the meed of sin This "once, the world was fair and bright enough. And love there was to lead her o'er the rough Of life, and love to crown her head with flowers, And fill her days and nights with happy hours. 35° Now swift beneath the oar-strokes Argo flew, W^hile the sun rose behind them, and they drew LTnto the river's mouth, nor failed to see AbsjTtus' galley waiting watchfully Betwixt them and the white-topped turbid bar. Therefore they gat them ready now for war With joiv'ful hearts, for sharp they sniffed the sea, And saw the great waves tumbling green and free Outside the bar upon the way to Greece, The rough green way to glory and sweet peace. 360 Then to the prow gat Jason, and the maid Must needs be with him, though right sore afraid, 340 power full well] power well 341-2 And at that thought well might her heart grow cold, And well might she her wretched self behold. 438 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON ix As nearing now the Colchian ship, they hung On balanced oars ; but the wild Areas strimg His deadly bow, and clorab into the top. Then Jason cried : ' Absyrtus, will ye stop Our peaceful keel, or let us take the sea ? tSoothly, have we no will to fight with thee If we may pass unfoughten, therefore sa}^ What is it th©u wilt have this dawn of day ? ' 370 Now on the other prow Absjnrtus stood, His visage red with eager "wrathful blood, And in his right hand shook a mighty spear, And said : ' O seafarers, ye pass not here. For gifts or prayers, but if it must be so, Over our sunken bulwarks shall ye go ; Nor ask me why, for thus my father wills, Yet, as I now behold you, my heart thrills With wrath indeed ; and hearken for what cause, That ye against all friendship and good laws 3S0 Bear off my sister with you ; wherefore now Mars give you courage and a brazen brow ! That ye may try this dangerous pass in vain, For soothly, of your slaughter am I fain.' Then Jason wrathfully thrcAV up his head. But ere the shout came, fair Medea said. In trembling whisper thrilling through his ear : — - ' Haste, quick upon them ! if before is fear, Behind is death ! ' Then Jason turning, saw A tall ship staggering with the gusty flaw, 390 Just entering the long reach where they were, And heard her horns through the fresh morning air. Then lifted he his hand, and with a cry Back flew the balanced oars full orderly. And toward the doomed ship mighty Argo passed ; Thereon Absyrtus shouted loud, and cast His spear at Jason, that before his feet Stuck in the deck ; then out the arrows fleet Burst from the Colchians ; and scarce did they spare Medea's trembling side and bosom fair ; 400 But Jason, roaring as the lioness When round her helpless whelps the hunters press, 363-436 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 439 Whirled round his head his mighty brass-bound spear, That flying, smote the Prince beneath the ear, As Areas' arrow sunk into his side. Then falhng, scarce he met the rusliing tide, Ere Argo's mighty prow had thrust apart The huddled oars, and through the fair ship's heart Had thrust her iron beak, and the green wave Rushed in as rush the waters through a cave 410 That tunnels half a sea-girt lonely rock. Then drawing swiftly backward from the shock, And heeding not the cries of fear and woe, They left the waters dealing with their foe ; And at the following ship threw back a shout, And seaward o'er the bar drave Argo out. Then jo^^ul felt all men as now at last From liill to green hill of the sea they passed ; But chiefly joyed Medea, as now grew The Colchian hills behind them faint and blue, 420 And like a white speck showed the following ship. There 'neath the canopy, lip pressed to lip, They sat and told their love, till scarce he thought What precious burden back to Greece he brought Besides the maid, nor for his kingdom cared, As on her beauty with wet eyes he stared, And heard her sweet voice soft as in a dream, When all seems gained, and trouble dead does seem. So passed this day, and she no less forgot That wreck upon the bar, the evil spot, 43° Red with a brother's blood, where long was stayed The wrathful king as from the stream he weighed The bleeding body of his well-loved son. Lo in such wise their journey was begmi, And so began short love and long decay, Sorrow that bides and joy that fleets away. 409 and] then After I. 428 the first edition inserts : And on his face her red lips he could feel. And round her panting sides his fingers steal. 440 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON BOOK X Argo cut off from the straits — The entry of the river — The passage northward. Night came, but still on by the stars they sailed Before the wind, till at the daAvn it failed, And faded soon the sunrise hue away, Leaving the heavens colourless and grey, And dull and lightless the decreasing swell About the watery ways now rose and fell, And LjTiceus, looking back, no more beheld The galley that so long the chase had held. Then were all glad, and toiled on at the oar, When now the drooping sails would help no more. lo But soon before their way it seemed as though A curtain hung they needs must journey through, A low black mist so brooded o'er the sea. Then did they hold their hands, but presently, Moving to meet them, did it hide from sight The dog- vane and the maintop gilded bright. Yea in heart-chilling waves it so enwound The seafarers, that each man gazed around And saw but shadows where his fellows were. So with the windless swell did Argo fare 20 Two days with furled sails purposeless and blind. And bearing heavy hearts ; the third, the wind Sprung up at daybreak, and straight drove away That hideous mist, that after sunrise lay A heavy purple bank down in the west. Then by the sun his way Erginus guessed. For on no side could they see any land ; But as upon the helm he set his hand Such mighty light blazed out upon the prow. That faint and yellow did the sunlight show 30 Beside it, and amidst it they beheld The figure that ere now their hands had held Anigh the Mysian shore ; and now it said : — ' heroes, wherefore haste ye to be dead ? 1-74 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 441 Behold, while through the heart of yonder fog I, Argo, drifted as an unsteered log, JEetes passed us going towards the straits, And now is lying readj^ by the gates ; Nor with one ship alone, but with ten keels. Raised from his subject kings and commonweals, 4° Abides your coming, hoping soon to see Your bodies on the shore lie wretchedly, While to the Gods he offers bulls and sheep ; But your fair helper and your joy will keep, That she in JEa unavenged may burn. ' But now the Gods, taking your swift return Away from you, yet will not let you die ; But bid you, taking heart, turn presently Unto the northern shore of this ill sea ; There by a mighty river shall ye be, 50 Along whose sides dwell the Sarmatian folk. Knowing no arts, untaught to bear the yoke Of equal laws ; into this river's mouth Straight must ye enter, and forget the south. And many unknown lands and unknown seas, And deadly forests, vocal with no breeze. Shall ye go wandering throvigh, but long time past. Unto the seas ye know shall come at last, And passing by the western garden fair Toward the Italian shore, shall ye find there 60 Circe the wise, the Avonder of all lands. Thy father's sister, lady, at whose hands Of late-wrought guilt shall ye be purified. ' And so, by many troubles being tried, Unto lolchos shall ye all come back Except some few ; nor there find any lack Of much-desired Avealth and babbling praise, And so each man depart unto such da^'^s As the fates grant him, be they good or ill, With death at last according to their will.' 70 With these last words she vanished quite away. And these, left floating on that dawn of day Felt severed utterly from hoped-for things ; Like some caged eagle that, with fluttering wings, 442 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON x Beats at his bars, beholding far away His windy eyrie up the mountain grey. — A while ago, and every man nigh saw The long wliite walls rise sunny without flaw From out the cm'led white edges of the sea ; Yea, almost felt as if they well might be 80 In fair lolchos that same afternoon. And now how many and many a glittering moon Must fill her horns up, while their lives are spent In unknown lands mid helpless drearyment ! But as his fellows, speechless and amazed, Upon the weary sea so stood and gazed, Spake Jason to them : ' Heroes, tell me where Your hearts are gone, since helpless thus ye stare On that which helpeth not ? in no such wise A while ago, before Petes' eyes 90 Ye smote the Colchian ship ; with other heart Ye drave the dark blue dashers far apart ; No eyes I saw like these upon the day. When with the Colchian spears on every way, Unto Mars' acre on a doubtful quest We passed, and dared the worst to get the best. ' What will ye ? Is it then so hard a thing That we, through many countries wandering. Shall see unheard-of things, nor fail to come When yet our blood is warm, back to om* home ? 100 Be merry, think upon the lives of men. And with what troubles threescore years and ten Are crowded oft, yea, even unto him Who sits at home, nor fears for life and limb, But trembles the base slave unto a slave ; Or holding trifles he is fain to save. Sits pleasm-eless and wearing out his life. Or with vain words wages disgraceful strife That leads nowhither, till forgotten death Seizes the babbler, choking out his breath. no ' But ye — forget all — get ye to the oar, And steer rejoicing to the northern shore, 83 are] were 84 mid] and 75-15° THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 443 Since we shall win such glory and renown, That, coming home again to our fair town, Those left behind shall count us all for lords, And tremble, gazing at our sheathed swords. Fair is the wind, the sunny dawn is clear, Nor are we bound for Pluto's kingdom drear, But for fair forests, plentiful of beasts, Where, innocent of craft, with joyous feasts 120 The wise folk live as in the golden age, Not reddening spears and swords in useless rage ; Nor need they houses, but in fair- wrought cave Their bodies from the winter's cold they save ; Nor labour they at all, or weave, or till, For everything the kind land bears at will. Doubt not at all that they will welcome us As very Gods, with all things plenteous.' So spake he, knowing nought of that same land ; Natheless, they noting him as he did stand 130 Beside Erginus, with unclouded face. Took heart again, and to the oars a])ace They gat and toiled, forgetting half the word That from great Argo's sprite ere now they heard, Nor thinking of the ills that they might meet, But of the day when their returning feet Should bear them, full of knowledge, wealth, and fame, Up to the royal hall wherefrom they came. But Jason in his heart thought : ' Now, mdeed, Of home and fame full little is my need, 140 The days will change, and time will bring a day When through my beard are sprinkled locks of grey, And love no more shall be enough for me. And no fair woman much delight shall be ; But little do we want when we are young, The bended knee and flattering double tongue. Which we, grown old, and drained of half our fire, Knowing them false, do yet so much desire ' But for his love, she, set quite free from fear Of frightful death, held life itself so dear, 150 14G double] false 444 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON x That where she went she scarcely heeded yet, For still she seemed to see the black pile set For her undoing by the temple -gate ; And seemed to see the thronging people wait For her, who there to make the tragedy Alone was wanting : then she saw anigh His face, and with her fingers felt him toy, And therewithal trembled for very joy, And set aside for that time all her care, So sweet was love, and life so blithe and fair. i6o Now northward Argo steered for two days more, Until at last they came in sight of shore, And creeping on, they found a river-mouth, That a long spit of land fenced from the south, And turned due west ; and now, at ebb, full strong Turbid and yellow rolled its stream along, That scarce could Argo stem it ; wherefore they, It being but early, anchored till mid-day. And as they waited, saw an eddy rise Where sea joined river, and before their eyes 170 The battle of the waters did begin. So, seeing the mighty ocean best therein. Weighing their anchor, they made haste to man Both oars and sails, and therewith plying, ran With the first wave of the great conquering flood Far up the stream, on whose banks forests stood, Darkening the swirling water on each side. And now between them swiftly did they glide, And now no more they smelt the fresh salt sea. Or heard the steady wind pipe boisterously 180 Through the strained rigging, neither with their feet Set wide, the pitching of their ship to meet, Went to and fro ; for all was quiet now But gurgling of the stream beside the prow, And flapping of the well-nigh useless sail, And from the black woods some faint dismal wail, Whether of man or beast they knew not well. Then o'er their hearts a melancholy fell. And they began to think they might forget 151-228 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 445 The quest whereon their hearts had once been set, 190 Now half accomplished, and all wealth and fame. All memory of the land wherefrom they came, Their very names indeed, to wander on. Unseen, unheard of till their lives were done. In such-like thoughts they anchored for the night. Nor slept they much, but wishing for daylight, About the deck they paced, or sat them down In longing thought of some fair merchant-town. So sadly passed the weary night away. That, dreary, yet was noisier than the day ; 20c For all about them evil beasts 'gan stir At nightfall, and great soft-winged bats would whirr About their raiment and their armour bright. And when the moon rose, and her crescent white Made the woods blacker, then from either shore They heard the thundering of the lion's roar. Now coming nigher, dying now away ; And once or twice, as in the stream they lay A spear-cast from the shore, could they behold The yellow beast stalk forth, and, stark and bold, 210 Stand in the moonlight on the muddy beach. Then, though they doubted not their shafts could reach His kingly heart, they held their hands, for here All seemed as in a dream, where deadly fear Is mingled with the most famihar thing ; And in the cup we see the serpent's sting, And common speech we answer with a scream. Moreover, sounds they heard they well might deem To be men's voices ; but, whatso they were, Unto the river side they drew not near, 220 Nor yet of aught like man did they have sight. So daAvned the day ; but like another night Unto their wearied eyes it seemed to be. Amid that solitude, where tree joined tree For ever, as it seemed ; and natheless, thej'' Ran out the oars and gat them on their way Against the ebb, and little help the flood Gave them that day ; but yet for bad or good 202 would] to 446 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON x They laboured on, though still with less intent More hopeless past the changeless woods they went. 230 But every day, more and more sluggishly And shorter time, the water from the sea Ran up, and failed ere eve of the third day, Though slower took the downward stream its way, Grown wide and dull, and here and there the wood Would draw away and leave some dismal rood Of quaggy land about the river's edge. Where 'mid the oozes and decaying sedge There wallowed ugly, nameless, dull-scaled things. These now the weary company of kings, 240 As they passed by, could not endure to see Unscathed of arrows, turning lazily Blue-gleaming slimy sides up in the sun. Whose death swift Atalanta first begun. For as anigh the prow she chanced to stand, Unto her bow did she set foot and hand. And strung it, and therefrom an arrow sent That through the belly of a monster went, Legged like a lizard, maned with long lank hair. He, screaming, straight arose from out his lair, 250 With many another of his kith and kin. And swiftly getting to the water thin. Made for the ship ; and though upon the way Some few among them lost the light of day, Smit by Thessalian arrows, yet the most The narrow strip of water fairly crossed, And scaled the ship's sides, and therewith began A fearful battle betwixt worm and man. Not long it dured ; though Ceneus through the mail W^as bitten, and one monster's iron tail 260 Smote down Asterion, whom Eribotes Made shift to save ; but chiefly amid these She who had l>een the first to raise the strife Was hard bested, and scarce escaped with life. One worm 'twixt ship and shore her arrow slew, But ere her amazonian axe she drew, Another monster had got slimy hold Of her slim ankles and cast fold on fold 229-308 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 447 About her legs, and binding thigh to thigh, Wrapt round her sides, enfolding mightily 270 Her foiled right hand, then raised aloft his crest Against her unembraced tender breast ; But she, with one unarmed hand yet left free, Still strove to ward the blow, but giddily, Because the deadly rings still tighter gi'ew About her heart ; yet as she fell, there flew A feathered javelin swiftly from the left, By Areas desperately cast, that cleft The monster's head, and dulled his glittermg eyes. Then the glad Minyse with joyous cries 280 Cleared Argo's decks of all the monstrous thmgs, As from the maiden's limbs the slimy rings Slacked and fell off : but she, so saved from deatn. Sat weary by the mast, and drew glad breath, And vowed the grey and deadly thing should shine, Wrought all of gold, within Diana's shrine. In woody fair Arcadia. But the rest. When they with poured-out wine the Gods had blest, And flayed the slain worms, gat them to the oar, And 'gainst the sluggish stream slid past the shore. 290 But swifter the next day the river ran With higher banks, and now the woods began To be of trees that m their land they knew. And into clumps of close-set beeches grew, And oak-trees thinly spread, and there-between Fair upland hillocks well beset with green ; And 'neath the trees great herds of deer and neat, And sheep, and swine, fed on the herbage sweet, Seeming all wild as though they knew not man, For quite untented here and there they ran, 30c And while two great bucks raised the armed brow Each against each (since time of fight was now) About them would the swine squeal, and the sheep In close-drawn flock their faint republic keep, With none to watch : nor saw they fence or fold, Nor any husbandry did they behold. But the last men their wearied eyes had seen Were those strong swimmers m the Phasis green. 448 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON x So seeing now these beasts in such plenty, It seemed good unto the Minyae 310 To make provision thereof for their need. And drawing Argo up through sedge and reed, They made her fast, while divers took the land. Areas the hunter, Idas strong of hand, White Atalanta, wise Eurytion, Far-seemg Lynceus, and the Sminthian's son. Keen Theseus, with Pirithous his mate, Clitius, whose swift shaft smote as sure as fate, ^talides, the runner of the plain, Phocus, whose slmg was seldom whirled in vain, 320 Caeneus the cragsman, Periclimenes, And Apheus, haunter of the close -set trees. So forth these set, and none of them had lack Of spear or bow, or quiver at the back, As through the land they went with wary mirth. For they rejoiced once more to feel the earth Beneath their feet, while on their heads fell down The uncupped acorn, and the long leaves brown. For on that land the sad mid-autumn lay, And earlier came the sunset day by day. 330 But now unto their hunting gave they heed, And of the more part happy was the speed. And soon to Argo did they turn again. Laden with that they had set forth to gain. Of deer and beasts the slaughtered carcases Upborne on mterwoven boughs of trees, With whom came Thesevis not, nor Arcus came. Nor yet iEtalides (who had the fame Next Atalanta among all the rest For swiftness, she bemg easily the best) 340 There waiting till the night, yet none the more Came down those three unto the river's shore. Nor through the night : but swift ^talides At dawn they saw come running through the trees, With Areas far behmd, and Theseus slim The last of all, but straining every limb To be their equal : empty-handed they 312 And] So 309-387 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 449 Came back to Argo on that dawn of day, And on being asked, a short tale had to tell. Unto their part to chase a great buck fell, 350 That led them far, and he at last being lost. They sat them down with nought to pay the cost Of all their travail, so being set, they heard A hubbub of strange voices, and afeard Leapt to their feet, and presently they saw Strange folk, both men and women, toward them draw. Who spread about them as to stop their flight On all hands more than they durst lightly fight. So being thus trapped they fain had spoke them fair, But knowing not their tongue, they yet had care 360 To speak with smiles as though they feared not aught, Asking for food by signs, which soon was brought ; No flesh, but roots and nuts, whereof they ate. And so by signs until the day grew late They dealt together, making clear indeed Each unto each but little of their need ; At last of their departure were they fain. But, being stayed, they durst not strive in vain For fear of worse ; but now, the night being come. The wild folk seemed to think that place their home Just as another, and there gat to sleep, 371 Nor yet upon the Greeks a watch did keep To stop their gomg ; ' So,' said Areas, ' we. An hour after midnight, warily Stole from among them, neither gave they chase, Being still asleep like beasts, in that same place ; And for their semblance, neither were they clad, Nor in their hands a spear or sword they had. Or any brass or iron, but long slings. And scrips of stones, and ugly stone-set things 380 Most like to knives, and clubs of heavy wood ; Soft-voiced they were, and gentle of their mood, And goodly made as such wild folk may be. But tanned with sun and wind ; there did we see Old men and young, and women old and young, With many children scattered there among, All naked, and with imshorn yellow hair MOEEIS Q g 450 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON x Blowing about ; and sooth we deem they were Houseless and lawless, without town or king. Knowing no Gods, and lacking everything.' 390 So said he, but Medea spoke, and said : — ' O heroes, surely by all likelihead These are the folk of whom I erst heard tell In ^a, where to me it oft befell To speak with many men from many lands, Long ere ye crossed the Phasis' yellow sands. ' Of these I learned more tongues of speaking men Than ye might deem men spoke, who told me then Of such as these, that ye have seen but now. And yet indeed some Gods these folk do know, 400 The Svm, the Moon, the mother of the earth. And more perchance, and days they have of mirth When these they honour ; yea, and unto these Within their temples, groves of ancient trees. Clad but in leaves, and crowned in solemn wise, They offer strangers up in sacrifice, Which was your doom had not the Gods been kind. Who for your bodies other gi-aves \vill find.' But when they heard her, glad they were indeed That they from such a bondage had been freed. 410 And, day being fully come, they loosed from shore, And 'gainst the stream all bent unto the oar. All day they toiled, and every mile of way Still swifter grew the stream, so on that day Few leagues they made ; and still the banks were fair. But rising into scarped cliffs here and there, Where screamed the great ger-falcon as they passed. And whence the sooty swifts about the mast Went sweeping, with shrill cries at that new sight. 419 Nought happed that day worth record, but at night, When they were moored, and sound of splashing oars Had ceased, and stiller gi'ew the upland shores, Another sound they heard besides the stream That gurgled past them, that to them did seem Like sound of feet of men who pass to war, 411 And] But 388-464 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 451 Rising and falling as the wind from far Would bear it on or drop it in the dark. So, while with strained ears, they stood to hark The murmur, as folk use, scarce sure they heard That which already inward fear had stirred, 430 Erginus spoke : ' heroes, fear ye nought, This is not death, though ye to toil are brought ; This noise is but the river as it falls Over its mountainous and iron walls, Which, being once passed, both calm and deep will be The pent-up stream, and Argo easily Will stem it ; but or ere we come thereto, Needs must we heave her up and make her go Over the hard earth, till the falls are past. Eat therefore now, and sleep, that ye may last 440 Through this and other toils, and so may come, Through many labours, back unto your home.' So, landing, many a pine-torch did they light. And made the dusky evening strange and bright. And there a mighty fire did they pile, And set the flesh thereto, and in a while, When all was ready, did they offer up That which the Gods claimed, pouring out a cup Of red wine to them from a new-pierced skin. Then in that lonely land did they begin 45° Their feast, and first the flesh to Jason gave. And next to her who all their souls did save Far up the Phasis on that other day, And then unto the swift Arcadian May The guarded treasure of the trim-shod queen. Then to the godlike singer, set between The twin Laconian stars, and then to these ; And then to Areas, haunter of the trees, Theseus, Pirithous, Erginus true. The north-Mdnd's sons, the cleavers of the blue ; 460 And all the kings being satisfied in turn, With vain desires 'gan their hearts to burn, So stirred within them wine and changing speech. But unto him his harp did Orpheus reach, 435 being once passed] being passed Gg2 452 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON x And smote the strings, and through the ancient trees Rang the heart-piercing honied melodies : — ' Alas ! for Saturn's days of gold, Before the mountain men were bold To dig up iron from the earth Wherewith to slaughter health and mirth, 470 And bury hope far underground. When all men needed did abound Li every land ; nor must they toil, Nor wear their lives in strife to foil Each other's hands, for all was good. And no man knew the sight of blood. ' With all the world man had no strife. No element against his life Was sworn and bitter ; on the sea, Dry shod, could all walk easily ; 480 No fire there was but what made day, Or hidden in the nioiintains grey ; No pestilence, no lightning flash, No over-mastering wind, to dash The roof upon some trembling head, ' Then the year changed, but ne'er was dead. Nor was the autumn-tide more sad Than very spring ; and all unclad Folk went upon the harmless snov/. For not yet did mid -winter know, 490 The biting frost and icy wind. The very east was soft and kind. ' And on the crown of July days, All heedless of the mid-day blaze, Unshaded by the rosy bowers, Unscorched beside the tulip flowers, The snow-white naked girl might stand ; Or fearless thrust her tender hand Amidst the thornless rose-bushes. ' Then, 'mid the twilight of the trees 500 None feared the yellow beast to meet ; Smiling to feel their languid feet Licked by the serpent's forked tongue. For then no clattering horn had rimg 465-542 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 453 Through those green glades, or made afraid The timid dwellers in the shade. No lust of strength nor fear of death Had driven men, with shortened breath. The stag's wide-open eyes to watch ; No shafts to slay, no nets to catch, 510 Were yet ; unyoked the neat might play On untilled meads, and mountains grey, Unshorn, the silly sheep might rove. ' Nor knew that world consuming love. Mother of hate, or envy cold. Or rage for fame, or thirst for gold, Or longing for the ways untried. That ravening and unsatisfied, Draw shortened lives of men to Hell. ' Alas ! what profit now to tell 520 The long unweary lives of men Of past days — threescore years and ten, Unbent, unwTinkled, beautiful. Regarding not death's flower-crowiied skull. But with some damsel intertwined In such love as leaves hope behind. ' Alas, the vanished days of bliss ! Will no God send some dream of this, That we may know what it has been ? ' Oh, thou, the chapleted with green, 530 Thou purple -stained, but not with blood. Who on the edge of some cool wood Forgettest the grim Indian plain, And all the strife and all the pain. While in thy sight the must foams out, And maid and man, with cry and shout. Toil while thou laughest, think of us. And drive away these piteous, Formless and wailing thoughts, that press About our hour of happiness. 540 ' Lyaeus, King ! by thee alone To song may change our tuneless moan. 454 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON x. 543 The murmur of the bitter sea To ancient tales be changed by thee. By thee the unnamed smouldering fire Within our hearts turns to desire Sweet, amorous, half satisfied ; Through thse the doubtful years untried Seem fair to us and fortunate, In spite of death, in spite of fate.' 55° He ceased, and bent his head above the wine : Then, as he raised his eyes they saw them shine In the red torchlight with unwilling tears. And their hearts too, with thoughts of vanished years Were pensive, as at ending of his song They heard the bubbling river speed along, Nor did thsy miss that doubtful noise to hear The rising night -wind through the branches bear, Till sleep fell on them, and the watch alone Waked in that place, and heard the distant moan 560 Grow louder as the dead night stiller grew. And fuller of all fear, till daylight drew A faint wan streak between the thinner trees, And in their yellowing foliage the breeze Made a new sound, that through their waking dream Like to the surging sea well-nigh did seem. But the full day being come, all men awake, Fresh hold upon the oars began to take, Stemming the stream, that now at every mile Swifter and shallower ran, and in a while 57° Above all noises did they hear that roar. And saw the floating foam borne past the shore, So but ten leagues they made upon that day. And on the morrow, going on their way, They went not far, for underneath their keel Some once or twice the hard rock did they feel. And looking on ahead, the stream could see White with the rapids ; therefore warily Some mile or two they went at a slow pace And stayed their com-se where they beheld a place 5^° XI. 6 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 455 Soft-sloping to the river ; and there all, Half deafened by the noises of the fall And bickering rapids, left the ashen oar, And spreading over the well-wooded shore Cut rollers, laying on full many a stroke, And made a capstan of a mighty oak, And so drew Argo up, with hale and how, On to the grass, turned half to mire now. Thence did they toil their best, in drawing her Beyond the falls, whereto being come anear, 590 They trembled when they saw them, for from sight The rocks were hidden by the spray-clouds white, Cold, wretched, chilling, and the mighty sound Their heavy-laden hearts did sore confound ; For parted from all men they seemed, and far From all the world, shut out by that great bar. Moreover, when with toil and pain, at last Unto the torrent's head they now had passed, They sent forth swift /Etalides to see What farther up the river there might be. 600 Who going twenty leagues, another fall Fomid, with great cliffs on each side, lUie a wall. But 'twixt the two, another unbarred stream Joined the main river ; therefore did they deem. When this they heard, that they perforce must try This smoother branch ; so somewhat hea\nly Argo they launched again, and gat them forth Still onward toward the wdnter and the north. BOOK XI The passage northward continued — Argo drawn overland — The winter by the northern river. Now might the Minyse hoist up to the breeze Their well- wrought sail, for barren of all trees The banks Avere now become, not rising high Above the deep green stream that sluggishly Strove with the strenuous Argo's cleaA'ing stem. So after all their toil was rest to them 456 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xi A little while, and on the deck they sat, Not wholly sad, and talked of this and that, Or watched the restless fishes turn and wind. Or the slim kestrel hanging in the wind, lo Or the wild cattle scoviring here and there About the plain ; for in a plain they were, Edged round with hills, with quaggy brooks cleft through, That 'mid their sedges toward the river drew, And harboured noisome things, and death to man. But looking up stream, the green river ran Unto their eyes, from out the mountains high. For 'twixt no pass could they behold the sky. Though at the mountain's foot, far through the plain. They saw the wandering river shine again, 20 Then vanish wholly, therefore through their ease. With fear did they the jealous Gods appease. Natheless, for two days did they speed along. Not toiling aught, and cheered with tale and song, But the third noonday, bringing them anear The mountains, turned to certain grief their fear. For now they saw the stream, grown swift but deep. Come from a cavern in the mountain steep. Nor would it help them aught upon that tide To heave the s\^aft ship out on either side, 3° For all that plain the mountain ridge bestrode, And scarcely could a horseman find a road Through any pass into the farther land. Then 'mid the downcast men did Jason stand, And lifting up his voice, said : ' Minyae, Why right and left upon this plain look ye, Where dwell but beasts or beast-like men alone ? Look rather to that heap of rugged stone, Pierced with the road that leadeth to the north. Yea, if from very hell this stream rvms forth, 40 Let us go thither, bearing in our hands This golden, hard -won marvel of all lands. Yet, since not death it bears, but living things. Shall we not reach thereby the sea that rings The whole world round, and so make shift to reach Sunny Eubcea, and fair Argo beach 7-86 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 457 Before lolchos, having lost no whit Of all our gains ? Or else here must we sit Till hunger slays us on some evil day, Or wander till our raiment falls away 50 From off our bodies, and we, too, become Like those ye saw, not knowing any home, Voiceless, desiring nought but daily food, And seeking that like beasts within the wood, Each for himself. And all our glory gone. Our names but left upon some carven stone In Greece, still growing fainter day by day. And this work wrought within the sunny bay, Nor yet without the help of Gods, shall lie A wonder to the wild beasts passing by, 60 While on her fallen masts the sedge-birds sing. Unseen of men, a clean forgotten thing.' So spake he, setting courage in their hearts To try the unknown dark, and to their parts All gat them swiftly, and they struck the mast. And deftly steered from out the sunlight passed Into the cold, bat -haunted cavern low, And, thrusting out with poles, made shift to go Against the stream, that with a hollow sound Smote Argo's stem. Then Jason, looking round, 70 Trembled himself, for now, indeed, he thought. Though to the toiling heroes he said nought : — ' What do we, if this cavern narrows now, Or over falls these burrowing Avaters flow, And drive us back again into the sim. Cursing the day this quest was first begim. Or somewhat traps us here, as well it may. And ends us all, far from the light of day ? ' Therewith he bade them light the torches up, And to the mountain Gods to pour a cup, 80 And one unto the river Gods, and pray That they might come into the light of day, W^hen they had pierced the mountain through and through . So from the torches trains of sparkles flew. And strangely flashed their arms in that dark place. And white and haggard showed each anxious face 458 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xi Against those dripping walls of iinknown stone. But now in Jason's hand the cup outshone, Full of red wine, pressed by the Grecian sea, And lifting high his hand, "he cried : ' ye, 9° Both Gods and nymphs who in this wild land dwell. In hill or river, henceforth may ye tell How through your midst have passed the Minyae ; And if, ye helping, the cold northern sea We safely reach, and our desired home, Thither the fame and fear of you shall come, And there a golden-pillared house shall stand. Unto our helpers in this savage land. Nor when we reach the other side of this Grim cavern, due observance shall ye miss, loo For whatso on the teeming plain we snare. Slain with due rites shall smoke before you there.' So spake he, and twice poured the fragrant wine ; But they, well-pleased to have the gift divine. And noting well his promises, took heed Unto his prayers, and gave the heroes speed. Then Jason straightway bade more torches light, And Argo pushed along flared through the night Of the dank cavern, and the dull place rang With Grecian names, as loud the heroes sang, no For hope had come into their hearts at last. So through the winding cave three days they passed. But on the fourth day Lynceus gave a cry. Smiting his palms together, who could spy, Far off, a little white speck through the dark. As when the 'lated traveller sees the spark Of some fair-lighted homestead glitter bright. But soon to all men's eyes the joyous sight Showed clear, and with redoubled force they pushed Swift Argo forth, who through the water rushed 120 As though she longed for dayhght too and air. And so within an hour they brought her there, And on the outer world the sun shone high. For it was noon ; so mooring presently. On the green earth they clean forgot their pain. For joy to feel the sweet soft grass again. 87-166 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 459 And see the fair things of the world, and feel The joyous sunlight that the sick can heal, And soft tormenting of the western wind. And there for joy about their heads they twined 130 The yellow autumn flowers of the field, And of untimely sorrow were they healed By godlike conquering wine ; nor yet forgot Their promise to the Gods, but on that spot. Of turf and stones they built up altars twain, And sent the hunters forth, and not in vain ; For Atalanta, swifter than a man. Areas, and mighty Theseus, overran A white high-crested bull, and tough cords threw About his horns, and so by main force drew 142 The great beast to the altars, where the knife Of wise Asclepius ended his hot life And there they feasted far into the night. But when their toil the next returning light Brought back to them, they gat unto the oar, While Jason anxiously scanned either shore ; For now the stream was narrowing apace, And little more than jvist enough of space Was left the oars ; but deep it ran and slow, And through a like flat grassy plain did go 150 As that wliich ere its burrowing it had cleft ; But lower were the hills, and on the left So low they grew, they melted quite away To woody swells before the end of day. Full many a league upon that day they made, And the next day the long oars down they laid, For at their back the steady south-west blew. And low anigh their heads the rain-clouds flew ; Therefore they hoisted up their sail to it. And idle by the useless oars did sit, 160 Watcliing the long wave from their swift sea-plough Sweep up the low green bank, for soothly now, A pebble ill-tlu-own by a stripling's hand From Argo's deck had lighted on the land ; And yet far inland still they seemed to be, Nor noted aught to tell them of the sea. 460 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xi So on that night, for thought of many things, Full little sleep fell on the troubled kings ; But Argus slept, and at the dawn he dreamed, Not wholly sleeping, and to him it seemed 170 That one said to him : ' Where is now become The cunning that thou learnedst in thine home, O wise artificer ? What dost thou here. While in thy fellows' hearts is gathering fear ? Now from the north thou seest this river flow, Whj^ doubtest thou to find another go Into the cold green icy northern sea ? Lo ! if thou wiliest well to trust in me, About the noontide of this very day. At the wood's end I bid thee Argo stay, 180 And from her straightway let the Minyge land And take the adze and wood-axe in the hand. And let them labour hard, with thee to guide. Until on wheels thy well-built keel shall glide ; And this being done as pleases thy wise mind. Doubt not a northern -flowing stream to find, For certainlj^ some God shall show it thee. And if thou wishest now to ask of me. No dream I am, but lovely and divine, Whereof let this be unto thee a sign, 190 That when thou wak'st the many-coloured bow Across the world the morning sun shall throw, But me indeed thine eyes shall not behold.' Then he awaking in the morning cold, A sprinkle of fine rain felt on his face. And leaping to his feet, in that wild place. Looked round and saw the morning sunlight throw Across the world the many-coloured bow. And trembhng knew that the high Gods indeed Had sent the Messenger unto their need. 200 And when the Minyse, running out the oars That windless morning, found them touch the shores On either side, then ere one said a word, He cried, and said : ' O Jason, cliief and lord, And ye, fair fellows, to no bitter end 167-244 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 461 Our quest is come ; but tliis sharp keel shall send A glittering foam-heap up in the wide sea, If ye will hear my words and trust in me.' Therewith he told them of that dream divine, And of the many-coloured arched sign, 210 And gladdened all their hearts, for well they knew That some God helped them, and straightway they threw Hawsers ashore, wherewith their keel to tow. And swiftly through the water made her go. Until they reached the ending of the wood. Just at the noonday, and there thought it good To rest till morning : but at dawn of day Gat forth, and mighty blows began to lay On many a tree, making the tall trunks reel, That ne'er before had felt the woodman's steel. 220 So many days they laboured, cutting down The smooth grey beeches, and the pine-trees brown, And cleft them into planks and beams foursquare. And so, with Argus guiding all things there, A stage with broad wheels nigh the stream they made, And then from out the water Argo weighed Little by little, dealing cunningly. Till on the stage the great black ship did Ue, And all things waited for the setting forth Unto some river flowing toward the north. 230 But midst all this, as painfully they wrought. Passed twenty days, and on their heads was brought The first beginning of the winter cold ; For now the wind-beat twigs had lost their hold Of the faint yellow leaves, and thin and light The forest grew, and colder night by night. Or soaked with rain, and swept with bitter wind, Or Avith white creeping mist made deaf and blind. Meanwhile for long there came no sign at all, Nor yet did sight of man to them befall, 240 To guide them on their way, though through the trees. Singly at times, at times in twos and threes, Both for their daily flesh they hunted oft, And also fain of fells to clad them soft, 207 foam-heap] furrow 462 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xi And guard their bodies from the coming cold Yet never any man did they behold, Though underneath the shaft and hunting-spear, Fell many a stag, and shuffling crafty bear, And strange the Minyse showed in shaggy spoil. But now, at ending of their woodwright's toil, 250 It chanced Argus' self alone to go. One bitter day, when the first dusty snow Was driven through the bare boughs from the east, In hot chase of the honey-loving beast Far from his fellows : him he brought to bay Nigh to the dusk of that quick-darkening daj^, Deep in the forest 'mid a clump of yews, And ere the red -eyed beast again could choose To fight or flee, ran in, and thrust his spear Into his heart ; then fell the shaggy bear, 260 As falls a landslip by the mining sea, With grass and bracken, and wind-bitten tree, And Argus, drawing out his two-edged knife. Let out the last spark of his savage life ; But as he arose, he heard a voice that said : — ' Good luck, himtsman, to thine hardihead, Well met thou art to me, who wander far On this first winter night that shows no star.' Then looking up, he saw a maid draw nigh. Like those who by Thermodon live and die ; 27c Her legs and arms with brazen scales were clad. Well-plated shoes upon her feet she had. And fur-lined, gold- wrought raiment to the knee. And on her head a helm wrought royally ; In her slim hand a mighty bow she bore, And at her back well-feathered shafts good store. And in her belt a two-edged cutting sword. Then straightly answered Argus to her word : — ' Lady, not far hence are my fellows stayed. But on hard earth this night will they be laid, 280 And eat the flesh of beasts their hands have slain. For from the sea we come, to meet again The ocean that the round world rings about. Still wandering on, in trouble and in doubt.' 245-324 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 463 ' Nay,' said she, ' let us set on through the wood, For food and fire alone to me are good, And guarded sleep among such folk as thee, For being alone, I fear the enemy, The savage men our bands are wont to chase Through these wild woods, from tangled place to place.' Then Argus swiftly flayed off the bear's hide, 291 And through the wood went with her side by side ; But long ere they could reach the skirts of it. Across the world the wings of night 'gan flit ; Then blindly had he stumbled through the place, But still the damsel went before a pace. Leading him on ; and as she went, she shed A faint light round, but no word Argus said, Because he deemed she was a thing divine, And in his heart still thought upon the sign. 300 So went the twain till nigh the woods were past, And the new-risen moon slim shadows cast Upon the thin snow, and the windless sky Was cleared, and all the stars shone frostily. Therewith she stopped, and turned about on him. And with the sight his dazzled eyes did swim, So was she changed, for from her raiment light Her rosy limbs showed 'gainst the wintry white, Not shrinking from the snow ; her arms were bare, Her head unarmed set round with yellow hair, 310 And starred with unnamed dainty glimmering things ; From her two shoulders many-coloured wings Rose up, and fanning in the frosty night. Shone as they moved with sparkles of strange light ; And on an ivory rod within her hand A letter bound round by a golden band He saw. Then to the dazed man she said : — ' Argus, be glad, and lifting up thine head. Look through these few last trees upon the plain, Smooth and unseamed, though never crossed by wain, And thank the Gods that led you here at last, 321 For in no long time shall the leagues be passed 'Twixt you and a swift river running north. But now next morn at daybreak get ye forth. 464 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xi And labour all ye may, for see the sky How clear it is — the few light clouds are high, And from the east light blows the frosty wind ; Firm will the way be now, nor ill to find, But surely in few days will come the snow, And all the plain so smooth and even now, 330 Shall be swept into drifts impassable. And now I bid thee heed the great downs well Thou seest bar the northern way to thee ; Left of the moon a wide pass thou mayst see ; Look — where the yew-trees o'er the whitened grass Mix with the dark sky : make ye for that pass. While yet endures the east wind and the frost, And in your journey shall ten days be lost, If that ye labour hard : but coming there. Shall ye behold a clear green river fair, 340 Unfrozen yet, swift-running, that will hold Great Argo well : now at my word be bold, And set her therein, and the black ship tow Adown the stream, though not far shall ye go. But reaching a great forest, bide ye there. And there the coming unknown winter bear. The days shall darken, the north-wind shall blow. And all about shall swirl the drifting snow, And your astonished eyes shall soon behold Firm earth and river one with binding cold, 350 And in mid-winter then shall ye be shut ; But ere that haps shall ye build many an hut, And dwell there as ye may, until the spring L^nchains the streams, and quickens everything. Then get ye down the river to the sea. ' Nor doubt thou aught since thou beholdest me, For I indeed am Iris ; but farewell. For of my finished message must I tell To her that sent me to this dreary place.' Thus spake she, and straightway before his face 360 She spread her fair wings wide, and from the earth Rose upwards toward the place that gave her birth, Still growing faint and fainter 'neath the moon, 360 Thus] So 325-401 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 465 Till from his wondering eyes she vanished soon. But she being gone, he gat him straight away Unto his fellows, bidding them 'gainst day Be ready to set forth, and told his tale. And they, not fearing that liis word should fail, Gat them to sleep, and ere the late dawn came, By the faint starlight, and the flickering flame 37° Of their own watch-fires were upon the way. So at the cables toiled all men that day In bands of twenty, and strong shoulders bore The unused yoke, and laboured very sore, And yet Avith all their toil few miles they made. Though 'gainst that bitter labour sweet hope, weighed, Was found the heavier, and their hearts were cheered With wine and food ere the noontide they neared ; Nor as they laboured did the Thracian spare To cast his music on the frosty air, 380 That therewith ringing, gladdened every heart. So till the evening did each man his part. When all that night they slept, and at daybreak The twisted cables in stroug hands did take And laboured on, not earning warriors' meed, But like some carl's unkempt and rugged steed, That to the town drags his corn -laden wain. But neither was the heavenly word in vain, For as the yew-clad hill they drew anear The grey-eyed keen Messenian could see clear, 39 ^^ From the bare top of a great ashen-tree, The river running to the northern sea. Showing all dull and heavy 'gainst the snow. And when the joyful tidings they did know. Light grew their hearts indeed, and scarcely less They joyed than he who, lying all helpless In dreary prison, sees his door ope A^dde, And half -forgotten friends stand by his side. So on the tenth day thi'ough the pass they drew Their strange ship-laden wain, and came unto 400 A deep dark river, their long-promised road ; 383 that] the MOEBIS H il 466 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON XT.402 Then from the car they slipped its heavy load, And when safe in the stream the keel had slid, They with strong axes their own work undid. And to the Goddess a great altar made Of planks and beams, foursquare, and thereon laid A white wild bull, and barley cakes, and spice. Not sparing gold and goodly things of price ; And fire being set thereto, and all things done That they should do, by a faint mid-day sun, 410 Seaward they turned, and some along the shore With lightened hearts the hempen tow-ropes bore, And some on Argo's deck abode their turn. But now did Jason's heart within him burn To show his deeds to other men than these, Nor did he quite forget the palaces Of golden iEa, long left, as a dream, Or iEson's beauteous house, whose oaken beam Cleft the dark wintry river, as they went With longing eyes and hearts still northward bent, 420 And fain he was to see his dainty bride. That wrapt in muffling furs sat by his side, Sit 'neath some heavy rustling summer tree. Thin clad, to drink the breezes from the sea. Now the next day the great oak-wood they reached, And as the Goddess bade them, there they beached Their sea-beat ship, on which from side to side They built a roof against the snowy tide, And round about her, huts wherein to dwell, When on their heads the full midwinter fell, 430 And round the camp a wooden wall they made. That by no men or beasts they might be frayed. Meanwhile, the frost increased, and the thin snow From off the iron ground the wind did blow. And in the cold, dark stream, from either bank The ice stretched forth ; at last, ere the sun sank. One bitter day, low grew the clouds and dun A little northward of the setting sun, Wherefrom, at nightfall, sprang a furious blast, That, ere the middle of the night was past, 440 Brought up the snow from some untrodden land. XII. II THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 467 Joyless and sunless, where in twilight stand, Amid the fleecy drift with faces wan, Giants immovable by God or man. So 'mid the many changes of the night, The silent snow fell till the world was white, And to those southland folk entrapped, forlorn The waking was upon the morrow morn. And few were light of foot enough to go Henceforth about the woods their darts to throw 450 At bird or beast, though, as the wild -fowl passed South o'er their camp, yet flew they not so fast As Areas' arrows, and the elk at bay Deep in the forest, seldom found a way To 'scape from Jason's mighty well-steeled spear, And Atalanta's feet outran the deer And slew him, tangled in the wreathed drift. Nor for the rest, did they yet lack the gift Of sunny Bacchus, but by night and day. By firelight passed the snowy time away, 460 Forgetting not their fathers, or the time When all the world still dwelt in equal clime. But each to each amid the wine-cups told Unwritten, half -forgotten tales of old. BOOK XII The heroes reach the northern sea : and pass unknown lands, and aeas without land, till they come at last to the pillars of Hercules. Most pitiless and stark the winter grew Meanwhile, beneath a sky of cloudless blue. And sun that warmed not, till they nigh forgot The green lush spring, the summer rich and hot. The autumn fragrant ^^^th slow-ripening fruit ; Till each grew listless, dull to the heart's root ; For day passed day, and yet no change thej^ saw In the white sparkling plain without a flaw. No cloud, no change within the sunny sky. Or in the wind, that rose at noon, to die 10 Before the sunset, and no change at all H h 2 468 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xii In the drear silence of the dead nightfall. Ten weeks they bode there, longing for the spring, And to the hearts of some the thought would cling That thus they should be till their lives were past, And into hopeless bonds that land was cast ; But on a day the wind, that rose at noon, Died not at night, and the white, sharp-edged moon, Just as the west had given it to sight. Was hidden from the watchers of the night 20 By fleecy clouds, and the next dawn of day Broke o'er the Minyae colourless and grey. With gusts of fitful wind 'twixt south and east, That with the day grew steadier and increased, Until a south-west gale blew o'er the snow. And northward drove the steel-blue clouds and low. And on that night the pattering of the rain Roused them from sleep, and next they saw the plain Made grey and ugly with quick-coming thaw, And all the sky beset with fowl they saw, 30 Who sniffed the wind and hastened from the sea Unto the floods now coming certainly. For from their camp the Minyae beheld How the swift river from the high ground swelled, And still tormented by the wind and rain, Burst from the ice and covered all the plain With breadth of turbid waters, while around Their high-raised camp again they saw the ground Freed from the swathing snow ; nor was it long Ere in the woods the birds began their song, 40 For March was come and life to everything. Nor did the buds fear much the doubtful spring. Now in few days the sun shone out again. The waters drew from off the flooded plain, And all was bright and soft as it might be. Though bank-high rolled the river to the sea, Made perilous with trees and heavy drift • Natheless on rollers Argo did they lift, And drew her toward the stream in spite of all The ills they saw, and chances that might fall ; 50 And there they launched her, being now most fain 12-91 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 469 Once more to try the green and shifting plain, And for the praise of other men they yearned And all the goods of life so dearly earned, Nor failed desire and longing love to come That spring-tide to those rovers far from home. Therefore with joy they shouted, when once more They felt great Argo move, and saw the shore Keep changing as they swept on toward the sea, With cheerful hearts still rowing steadily ; 60 For now the ashen oars could they thrust forth Into the widened stream, that toward the north Ran swiftly, and thenceforward day by day Toiling, they made full many a league of way. Nor did they see great hills on either hand. When they had fairly passed the woody land Where they abode the winter ; neither heard The sound" of falls to make their hearts afeared, But through great woods the gentle river ran. And plains where fed the herds unowned of man ; 70 Though sometimes in the night-time did they hear Men's voices calling out, far-off and near, But in some tongue not one among them knew. No, not the Queen : but Lpiceus, passing through The v/oods with Idas, folloAving up a bear, A sudden clamour of men's tongues did hear, And in a cleared space came upon a throng Of naked men and women, fair and strong, About a fire, just at point to eat. But at the flash of arms they to their feet 80 Rose suddenly, and swiftly gat away. Nor durst the twain give chase to them that day, But coming to that fire, laid their hands On a brass cauldron, and three woollen bands. That seemed like belts or fillets for their heads, Set thick with silver knots and amber beads. Now round the brazen cauldron, graven well. Were uncouth letters, that some tale might tell, If any them could read ; so when the fleece Was offered up unto the Gods of Greece, 90 This thing in fair Messene Idas hung 470 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xii In the white fane where deeds of war are sung. But through all this the wearied Minyse Were drawing nigh unto the northern sea, And marshier grew the plain as on they went. And eastward the still-widening river bent, Until one day at eve, with chilling rain, The north-wind blew across the marshy plain Most cold and bitter, but to them as sweet As the rose -scented zephyr those do meet loo Who near the happy islands of the blest ; For as upon their eager brows it pressed, They sniffed withal the odour of the sea, And going on a mile, they seemed to be Within some eddy rippling languidly, And when the stream they tasted that went by Their shielded bulwark, better was the draught Than any wine o'er which a king has laughed, For still it savoured of the bitter sea. So fell the night, and next day joyously no They met the full flood, whose first toppling wave Against the sturdy prow of Argo drave. And with good heart, as 'midst the sweeping oars It tossed and foamed, and swept the muddy shores. They toiled, and felt no weariness that day. But though right well they gat them on their way They failed ere dark the open sea to reach ; But in the night the murmur of the beach. Tormented by the changeful dashing seas. Came to their ears upon the fitful breeze. 120 Then sore they longed for dawn, and when it broke Again the waters foamed beneath their stroke, Till they had gained that river's utmost reach. Which from the sea by a low sandy beach Was guarded well, all but a little space. Through which now rushed in headlong, foaming race, The huddled waters of the flowing tide. So there the Minyae thought it good to bide And wait the ebb, dreading some hidden bank ; And while they waited to good hap they drank, 130 93 But] So 92-169 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 471 And poured out wine unto the deity Who dwelt between the river and the sea, Forgetting not the great Earth-shaking One, Nor Her by whose help thus far they had run Their happy course unto that river's mouth. And now the Avind had changed, and from the south Blew softly, and the hot sun shining forth, Made lovely land of that once bitter north, And filled their hearts with longing thoughts of love, And worship of the sea-born seed of Jove. 140 But as they waited thus, with hearts that burned To try the sea, the tide grew high and turned, And seaward through the deepened channel ran In gentle ripple 'gainst the breakers wan. Then thither gat the joyous Minyai, And shouting, drave out Argo to the sea. But when the first green ridge swept up her bow, Then Jason cried : ' And who shall stop us now ? And who shall drive us unto other end, Than that we will ? Let whoso be our friend, 150 Whoso our foe, henceforth, until the earth Forgets of changeful men the death and birth. We shall not be forgotten any^vhere, But oui" deeds told shall free sad folk from care.' So spake he, and his love beholding him, Trembled for joy and love in every limb, And inwardly she saw an ivory throne, And Jason sitting with her there alone, High o'er wise men and warriors worshipping. For they were young, nor yet had felt the sting 160 Of poisonous fear, nor thought of coming age And bitter death, the turning of the page By those who quite forget what they have read. Taking no heed of living folk or dead. Now hoisting sail, and laboming \\ith the oar, They passed along the amber-bearing shore, A low coast, backed by pine -woods : none the less Some days they needs must pass in idleness. And lie-to, 'midst white rolling mist and blind, 472 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xii Lest Argo on some shallow death should find ; 170 Yet holpen by the steersman's mighty sire, Safely they sailed until the land rose higher, And through a narrow strait at last they went, Brushing the unknown coast, where, with bows bent. They saw a skin-clad folk awaiting them, Who stood to watch the well-built Argo stem The rushing tide upon the shingly beach. And thence, as knowing that they could not reach The heroes with their arrows, shook their spears. And shouted unknown threats to careless ears. 180 But when against the midst of them they came, Forth strode a huge man, with red hair like flame, And his huge bow against them strongly drew, Wherefrom a swift shaft straight to Argo flew. And whistling over Jason's head, stuck fast Over the barb-points in the gleaming mast. Then all men praised that archer ; but the man Who in Arcadian woods all beasts outran. Straight drew his bow unto the arrow-head, And no man doubted that wild king was dead : 190 Natheless, unmoved they saw the archer stand. And toward the Arcadian arrow stretch his hand, That midmost of his skin-clad body smote, But bounded back as from an iron coat. Then loud his people shouted, and all drew Their feeble bows, but short their arrows flew. And through the straits the wondering Minyse Passed out unscathed into the open sea, While still of wizardry and charms they spoke. But Jason from the mast the arrow broke, 200 That ere while had so scantly missed his life, And found it scored as by a sharp-edged knife. From barb to notch, with what seemed written words. In tongue unknown to aught but beasts and birds. So when Medea saw it, straight she said : ' Fair love, now praise some God thou art not dead, For from the Cimbrian folk this arrow came. And its sharp barbs within a wizard's flame Were forged with peril, and the shaft of it 170-247 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 473 Was carved by one who in great fear did sit 210 Within the haunted places of the wood, And tears are on its feathers, and red blood : Nor ask me now the name of her who taught This wisdom to me : but two arrows brought From this same folk to ^Ea have I seen, By one whose wounds will evermore be green While on the earth he dwells.' So spoke the maid, But Jason, wondering at the words she said, Gazed on her fair face, smiling lovingly. Nor cared to think that he must one day die. 220 Now rose a south-east gale, and Argo lost All sight of land, and the vexed Minyse, tost From sea to sea, began to feel a fear They yet might pass into some ocean drear. Beyond the circling sea that rings the world, And down a bottomless abyss be hurled, To fall for ever : then the winged twain. That erst had been the loathly harpies' bane, Came forth, and on the prow with wings spread wide. Half stood, half floated, while aloud they cried : — 230 ' What dost thou, Father ? art thou sleeping then. And does it not suffice that trading men Float up and do\^^l, dead corpses on the sea, While all their wealth is lying wretchedly On Nereus' pavement ; but must we too drive Before this south wind, hopeless though alive. Until the farthest gulfs shall suck us do\\n. And land our battered keel at Pluto's town ? ' So spake they ; but still blew the south the same I'^ntil the starless night upon them came, 240 But then a little did its fury lull. And when the rain-beat night was at its full. Fell to a light breeze, though still many a sea Swept Argo's deck, and still the Minyae Had dread of some returning hideous blast. But when the doubtful night from them had past, Barefoot upon the prow Medea stood, 226 a bottomless] some bottomless 474 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xii And burning in a censer hallowed wood, With muttered words she swung it, nor took heed Of how the wind was dealing with her weed, 250 Nor with firm-planted feet one whit did reck Of washing of the brine about the deck. But swung her censer till a bright red flame From out the piercings of its cover came ; Then round she turned and said : ' Minyge, Fear not to die within the northern sea, For on my head liither the north wind comes. And ye some day shall surely see your homes. But since upon us yet lies heavily My brother's death, forget not we must see 260 My father's godlike sister, who one day With all due rites that blood shall wash away. ' And now, behold the sun shines through the clouds. And ye may hear across the well-strained shrouds The longed-for wind, therefore make no delay. For time it is that we were on our way. So let Erginus to the south-west steer ; — ' But sleep to me of all things now is dear. For with two mighty ones but for your sake Have I contended. He who still doth shake 270 The firm -set earth, and She who draws the sea This way and that, the while in majesty She sits, regarding little but her will ; — The fear of these my heavy heart doth fill.' So said she, and with pale and languid face And half -shut eyes, unto the guarded place, Where was her golden bed, the maiden came. And in her dreams at first saw blood and flame O'er all the world, and nothing green or fair ; Then in a snowy land, with body bare, 280 Went wandering long, be-mocked of uncouth things ; Then stood before the judgement-seat of kings, Knowing no crime that she was charged withal. Until at last deep sleep on her did fall Like death itself, wherein the troublous past And fearsome future in one tomb are cast. 281 wandering long,] wandering 248-326 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 475 Meanwhile the Minyae, joyful at her tale. Ran out the oars and hoisted up the sail, And toward the south with good hearts 'gan to go, While still they felt the favouring north wind blow, 290 And the third day again they saw the land, That in white cliffs rose up on the right hand, Coasting whereby, they came into a strait. Or so they deemed, for as the day grew late. Beneath a frosty light-blue sky and cold Another country could they now behold Dim o'er the glittering sea ; but in the night They by the moon past the high cliff and white Ceased not to sail, and lost the other shore When the day broke, nor saw it any more, 300 As the first land they coasted, that changed oft From those high cliffs to meadows green and soft, And then to other cliffs, some red, some grey. Till all the land at noon of the fourth day They left astern, sailing where fate might lead, Of sun or stars scarce taking any heed, — Such courage in their hearts the White-armed set, Since, clad in gold, was Pelias living yet. But to the Gods now did they sacrifice As seafarers may do, and things of price 310 Gave to the tumbling billows of the sea, That for their lives still cried out hungrily, And though for many days they saw no shore. Yet fainted not their hearts as heretofore. For as along the pathless plain they went. The white-foot messenger the Goddess sent, Who, unseen, whispered in the helmsman's ear, And taught him how the goodly ship to steer ; And on a time it chanced as the day broke. And to their life the longing Minyse woke, 320 Across the risen sun the west wind blew A thin light rain, that He, just shining through. Showed i-o them all the many-coloured sign ; Then to the Goddess did they pour out wine. Right glad at heart ; but she the live-long day By Argo's prow flew o'er the shifting way 476 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xn Unseen of all, and turned them still to land ; And as they went the Thracian's cunning hand Stole o'er the harp-strings till Arion's steeds Gat them from 'twixt the tangled water-weeds, 330 And lifted listening heads above the sea, And sea-birds, pensive with the harmony, About the mast, above the singer hung. With quivering wings, as from full heart he sung : — ' death, that maketh life so sweet, fear, with mirth before thy feet, What have ye yet in store for us, The conquerors, the glorious ? ' Men say : " For fear that thou shouldst die To-morrow, let to-day pass by 340 Flower-crowned and singing ; " yet have we Passed our to-day upon the sea. Or in a poisonous unknown land. With fear and death on either hand, And listless when the day was done Have scarcely hoped to see the sun Dawn on the morrow of the earth, Nor in our hearts have thought of mirth. And while the world lasts, scarce again Shall any sons of men bear pain 350 Like we have borne, yet be alive. ' So surely not in vain we strive Like other men for our reward ; Sweet peace and deep, the chequered sward Beneath the ancient mulberry-trees. The smooth-paved gilded palaces. Where the shy thin-clad damsels sweet Make music with their gold-ringed feet. The fountain court amidst of it, Where the short-haired slave maidens sit, 360 While on the veined pavement lie The honied things and spicery Their arms have borne from out the town. ' The dancers on the thymy down In summer twilight, when the earth 327-404 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASOX 477 Is still of all things but their mirth And echoes borne upon the wind Of others in like way entwined. ' The merchant towns' fair market-place, Where over many a changing face 370 The pigeons of the temple flit, And still the outland merchants sit Like kings above their merchandise, Lying to foolish men and wise. ' Ah ! if they heard that we were come Into the bay, and bringing home That which all men have talked about, Some men with rage, and some with doubt. Some with desire, and some with praise, Then would the people tlirong the ways, 380 Nor heed the outland merchandise. Nor any talk, from fools or wise, But tales of our accomplished quest. ' What soul within the house shall rest When we come home ? The wily king Shall leave his throne to see the thing ; No man shall keep the landward gate, The hurried traveller shall wait Until our bulwarks graze the quay, Unslain the milk-white bull shall be 390 Beside the quivering altar-flame ; Scarce shall the maiden clasp for shame Over her breast the raiment thin The morn that Argo cometh in. ' Then cometh happy life again That payeth well our toil and pain In that sweet hour, when all our woe But as a pensive tale we know. Nor yet remember deadly fear ; For surely now if death be near, 400 Unthought-of is it, and unseen When sweet is, that hath bitter been.' Thus sung the Thracian, and the rowing-folk Sent Argo quivering with the well-timed stroke 379 desire, and some] desire, some 403 Thus] So 478 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xii. 405 Over the green hills, through great clouds of spray, And as they went upon their happy way About the deck the longing men would stand With wistful eyes still gazing for the land ; Which yet they saw not, till the cool fresh night Had come upon them, with no lack of light, 410 For moon and stars shone brightly overhead, Nor through the night did Iris fail to lead The wave-tossed Argo o'er the glittering sea. So as the moon set, did there seem to be Upon their larboard, banks of high-piled cloud. Which from their sight the last dark hour did shroud, Then came the twilight, and those watchers fain Against the eastern light beheld again The clouds unchanged, and as the daylight grew, Lynceus cried out : ' Some land we draw unto ! 420 Look forth, Erginus, on these mountains grey. If thou, perchance, hast seen them ere to-day.' Therewith all turned about, and some men ran To hear what words the God-begotten man Would say, who answered : ' Lynceus, and all ye, The man we left erewhile across the sea Might tell us this, the godlike Hercules ; Yet I myself think that the landless seas No more shall vex us now, but that we come Unto the gates that look into our home : 430 So trim the sails, for thither will I steer, Seeking what lies beyond with little fear, Since surely now I see the Iberian land That 'gainst the shore of Africa doth stand. To break these mighty billows, ever pressed Each against each from out the landless west.' So with glad hearts all men his bidding did, And swiftly through the water Argo slid, Till as the sun rose were they near the strait, At whose mouth but a little did they wait 440 Till they had eaten, pouring honied Anne Unto tlie Gods, then biding no new sign. They cried aloud, and running out the oars, They swept great Argo midmost 'twixt the shores XIII. 24 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 479 Of either land, and as her gilded prow Cleft the new waters, clean forgotten now Grew all the wasteful washing of the main, And clean forgotten the dull hopeless pain, In the great swirling river left so long, And in all hearts the memory was strong 45° Of the bright Grecian headlands and the bay They left astern upon a glorious day. BOOK XIII Medea sees Circe, and has good counsel from her. But as along the shore they sailed next day, Full many a headland on their lucky way Erginus knew, but said no towns there were Within that land, but that from year to year Well-nigh untilled the earth her produce gave, And many a herd the houseless people drave, And using neither roof nor sheltering wall, Dwelt but in t-ents, and had no want at all. With that he bade them trim the bellying sail, For from the land now blew a gentle gale, lo Spice-laden, warm, that made their full hearts yearn For unseen things, but soon they left astern That fruitful place, the lion-haunted land. Nor saw but tumbling seas on either hand. Three days they sailed, and passed on the third da}'' A rock-bound coast upon their left that lay, But on the morrow eve made land again. Stretched right ahead across the watery plain, Whereto ere nightfall did they draw anear, And so lay-to till dawn with little fear ; 20 For from the shore a light, soft land-wind blew. But as the dead night round about them drew, The ceaseless roar of savage beasts they heard. Mingled with sounds like cries of men afeared, 24 afeared] afeard 480 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiii And blare of horns, and clank of heavy chains, And noise of bells, such as in moonlit lanes Rings from the grey team on the market-night. And with these noises did they see a light, That seemed to light some crown of palaces, Shining from out a grove of thickset trees. 30 Then did the IVIinyse doubt if they were come Unto some great king's well-adorned home, Or if some temple of a God were there, Or if, indeed, the spirits of the air Haunted that place : so slowly passed away The sleepless night, and at the dawn of day Their longing eyes beheld a lovely land, Green meadows rising o'er a yellow strand. Well-set with fair fruit-bearing trees, and groves Of thick-leaved elms, all populous of doves, 40 And watered by a wandering clear green stream ; And through the trees they saw a palace gleam Of polished marble, fair beyond man's thought. There as they lay, the sweetest scents were brought By sighing winds across the bitter sea, And languid music breathed melodiously. Steeping their souls in such unmixed delight. Their hearts were melted, and all dim of sight They grew, and scarce their hands could grip the oar. And as they slowly neared the happy shore, 50 The young men well-night wept, and e'en the wise Thought they had reached the gate of Paradise. But 'midst them all Medea thoughtfully Gazed landward o'er the ripple of the sea, And said no word, till from her precious things She drew a casket full of chains and rings, And took therefrom a chaplet broMn and sere. And set it on her head : and now being near The yellow strand, high on the poop she stood. And said : ' heroes, what has chilled your blood, 60 That in such wise ye gaze upon this land With tearful eye, and nerveless, languid hand, 53 But 'midst them stood Medea, and thoughtfully 25-102 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 481 And heaving breast, and measureless desire ? Be wise, for here the never-dying fire, The God begotten wonder, Circe, lights, The wise of women, franier of delights That being of man once felt, he ne'er shall cease To long for vainly, as the years increase On his dulled soul, shut in some bestial form. ' And good it had been that some bitter storm 70 Were tossing Argo's planks from sea to sea, Than ye had reached this fair land, but for me. Who amid tears and prayers, and nameless pain, Some little wisdom have made shift to gain : Look forth upon the green shore, and behold Those many beasts, all collared with fine gold, Lions and pards, and small-eyed restless bears. And tusked boars, Avho from uneasy lairs Are just come forth ; nor is there 'mongst them one But once walked upright underneath the sun, 80 And had the name of man : such shall yc be, If from the ship ye wander heedlessly, But safely I my kinswoman may meet, And learn from her the bitter and the sweet That waits us ere ye come to Greece again. And see the wind-swept green Thessalian plain. ' Meanwhile, let nothing tempt you to the land. Nor unto anything stretch forth the hand That comes from shore, for all ye may see there Are but lost men and their undoers fair.' 90 But with that word they furrowed the wet sand, And straight they ran the gangway out to land, O'er which, with girded raiment, passed the queen ; But now another marvel was there seen. For to the shore, from many a glade and lawn. The golden-collared sad-eyed beasts were drawn In close-set ranks above the sea-beat shore, And open-mouthed, with varying moan and roar. White-foot Medea did they seem to threat ; Whereat the Minyse on their bow-strings set 100 The notches of their arrows, but the maid Turned round about, with calm face unafraid, MOREIS J ^ 482 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xni And said : ' Minyse, lay your weapons down, Nor fear for me ; behold this chaplet brown, Whose withered leaves rest lightly on my head, This is the herb that Gods and mortals dread, The Pontic Moly, the unchanging charm.' Then up the beach she passed, and her white arm This way and that the leopards thrust aside, And 'mid the grisly swine her limbs did glide, no And on a lion's mane her hand she laid ; But still with moans they thronged about the maid, As she passed onward to the palace white, Until the elm-groves hid her from the sight. Then they with fearful hearts did sacrifice Unto the Gods in their seafaring wise. But of the lovely land were they so fain That their return they scarcely counted gain, Unto the green plain dotted o'er with folds And that fair bay that Pelion beholds, 120 Meanwhile Medea through the thick-leaved grove Passed underneath the moaning of the dove. Not left by those strange beasts ; until at last Her feet from off the sparse long grasses passed Unto a sunny space of daisied sward. From which a strange-wrought silver grate did guard A lovely pleasance, set with flowers, foursquare. On three sides ending in a cloister fair That hid the fair feet of a marble house, Carved thick with flowers and stories amorous. 130 And midmost of the slender garden trees A gilded shrine stood, set with images, Wherefrom the never-dying fire rose up Into the sky, and a great jewelled cup Ran over ever from a runlet red Of fragrant wine, that 'mid the flowers shed Strange scent that grapes yield not to any man. While round about the shi'ine four streamlets ran From golden founts to freshen that green place. So there Medea stayed a little space, 140 Gazing in wonder tlirough the silver rail I03-I8I THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 483 That fenced that garden from the wooded vale ; For damsels wandered there in languid wise As though they wearied of that Paradise, Their jewelled raiment dragging from its stalk The harmless daisy in their listless walk. But though from rosy heel to golden head Most fair they were and wrought with white and red, Like to the casket-bearer who beguiled The hapless one, and though their lips still smiled, 150 Yet to the Colchian, heavy-eyed they seemed. And each at other gazed as though she dreamed ; Not noting aught of all the glorious show She joined herself, nor seeming more to know What words she spoke nor what her fellows sung, Nor feeling arms that haply round her clung. For here and there the Colchian maid could see Some browned seafarer kissing eagerly White feet or half -bared bosom, and could hear A rough voice stammering 'twixt love and fear 160 Amid the dreamy murmur of the place, As on his knees, with eager upturned face. Some man would pour forth many a fruitless word, That did but sound like song of a wild bird Unto his love ; while she for all reply, Still gazing on his flushed face wearily. Would undo clasp and belt, and show to him Undreamed-of loveliness of side or limb. And in such guise of half -stripped jewelled weed. The men entrapped, Medea saw them lead 170 Into the dark cool cloister, whence again They came not forth, but four-foot, rough of mane. Uncouth with spots and dangerous of claw. But when the sad -eyed beasts about her saw These draw towards them and beheld the gate Open and shut, and fellows to that state New come, they whined, and brushing round her feet Prayed for return unto that garden sweet, Their own undoing once, that yet shall be Death unto many a toiler of the sea, 180 Because all these outside the silver grate I i 2 484 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xni Were men indeed though inarticulate, And, spite of seeming, in none otherwise, Did longing torture them, than when in guise Of men they stood before that garden green, And first their eyes the baneful place had seen. But now the queen grew wrath, for in her way, Before the gate a yellow lion lay, A tiger-cat her raiment brushed aside, And o'er her feet she felt a serpent glide, 190 The swine screamed loud about her, and a pard Her shining shoulder of her raiment bared With light swift clutch ; then she from off her head Took the sere moly wreath, and therewith said : — ' What do ye, wretches, know ye not this sign, That whoso wears is as a thing divine ? Get from this place, for never more can ye Become partakers of the majesty That from man's soul looks through his eager eyes. Go — wail that ever ye were made so wise 200 As men are made ; M^ho chase through smooth and rough Their own undoing, nor can have enough Of bitter trouble and entangling woe.' Then slowly from her did those monsters go, In varied voices mourning for their lot And that sweet poison ne'er to be forgot. But straight with serious face the Colchian maid Her slender fingers on the latchet laid That held the silver gate, and entered in ; Nor did those weary images of sin 210 Take any heed of her as she passed by. But, if they met her eyes, stared listlessly. Like those who walk in sleep, and as they dream Turn empty faces to the lightning's gleam. And murmur softly while the thunder rolls. Swiftly she passed those bodies void of souls, And through the darkling corridor she passed, And reached a huge adorned hall at last. Where sat alone the deathless sorceress. Upon whose knees an open book did press, 220 182-2 59 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 485 Wherein strange things the Gods knew not, she read ; A golden vine-bough wreathed her golden head, And her fair body a thin robe did touch With silken folds, but hid it not so much As the cool ripple hides Diana's feet, When through the brook the roe-deer, slim and fleet, She follows at the dawning of the day. Smiling, she put the wondrous book away As the light footsteps fell upon her ear, She raised her head, and when the queen drew near, 230 She said : ' wanderer from dark sea to sea, I greet thee well, and dear thou art to me • Though verily if I could wish for aught, I could have wished thou hadst been hither brought Ere that had happed to thee that haps to all. Into the troublous sea of love to fall, Then like unto the gods shouldst thou have been, Nor ever died, but sitting here have seen The fashion of the foolish world go by, And drunk the cup of power and majesty. 240 ' But now it may not be, and thou must come With him thou boughtedst, to a troublous home ; But since indeed the fates will have it so, Take heed thou dost the things I bid thee do. And, first, since thou wouldst have me purify Your hands of his l^lood that thou sawest die 'Twixt yellow Phasis and the green-ridged sea. Behold, this is not possible to me. Nor ever must another altar stand In this green nook of the Italian land, 250 To aught but me, no, not unto my Sire ; But unto him shall ye light ruddy fire, When, drawing nigh to your desired home. Unto the headland of Malea ye come ; And then, indeed, I bid you not to spare Spices and golden things and raiment fair, But to the country folk give things of price, And from them take wherewith to saci'ifice, A hundred milkwhite bulls, a hundred kine, 231 from dark sea] from sea 486 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xm And many a jar of unmixed honied wine, 260 And, crowned with olive, round the altars sing Unto the God who gladdens everything, Thy father's father, the all-seeing Sun, And then the deed thy Jason's spear has done Mayst thou forget, it shall not visit thee. Moreover, sailing hence across the sea, A waste of yellow sand shall ye pass by 'Neath the Trinacrian cliffs, whereon shall lie Fair women, fairer than thine eyes have seen. And if thou still wouldst be a Grecian queen, 270 When to that deadly place j^e draw anear, And sweetest music ye begin to hear, Bid your bold love steer Argo from the land, While Thracian Orpheus takes his harp in hand, And sings thereto some God -delighting strain. And surely else shall all your toil be vain, For deadlier than my gardens are those sands ; And when the mariner's toil-hardened hands Reach out unto those bodies fair and white. They clasp but death instead of their delight. 280 ' But, doing as I bid, Malea reach, And after, nigh lolchos Argo beach, Yet at the city haste ye not to land, For still the sceptre presses Pelias' hand, And ^son is at rest for evermore ; Bid then thy folk lurk by some wooded shore, And to the white -walled city straight ly wend Thyself alone, and safely there make end Of the King's life ; nor need I teach thee how. For deep unfailing wiles thy soul doth know. 290 ' What more ? what more ? I see thy grey eyes ask, What course, what ending to the tangled task The Gods have set before me, ere I die ? O child, I kn»jw all things, indeed, but why Shouldst thou know all, nor yet be wise therefore. Me knowledge grieves not, thee should it grieve sore ; Nor knowing, shouldst thou cease to hope or fear. What ! do men think of death ere it draws near ? Not so, else surely would they stint their strife, I 260-338 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 487 For lengthening out their little span of life, 3°° But where each found himself there should he sit, Not moving hand or foot for thought of it. Wherefore the Gods, wishing the earth to teem With living ^\^lls like theirs, nor as a dream To hold but beauty and the lives of beasts, That they may have fair stories for their feasts, Have given them forgetfulness of death. Longings and hopes, and joy in drawing breath, And they live happy, knowing nought at all, Nor what death is, where that shall chance to fall. 310 For while he lives, few minutes certainly Does any man believe that he shall die. Ah, what ? thou hang'st thine head, and on thy feet Down rain the tears from thy grey eyes and sweet ; Weep not, nor pity thine own life too much : Not painless shall it be, indeed, or such As the Gods live in their unchanged abode, And yet not joyless ; no unmeasured load Of sorrows shall thy dull soul learn to bear, 3^9 With nought to keep thee back from death but fear, Of what tliou know'st not, knowing nought but pain. ' But though full oft thou shalt lift hands in vain, Crying to what thou know'st not in thy need, And blind with agony, yet oft, indeed, Shalt thou go nigh to think thyself divine, For love of what thou deemest to be thine. For joy of what thou dreamest cannot die. ' Live then thy life, nor ask for misery, Most certain if thou knewest what must be. And then, at least, this shall not hap to thee, 330 To be like those who people my sad groves. Beneath the moaning of the grey-winged doves. And midst all pain and joy, and wrong and right. Thy name to all shall be a dear delight While the world lasts, if this avail thee aught. ' Farewell, child, whose feet alone have brought An earthly damsel to my house of gold. For surely those thou didst erewhile behold 488 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xm. 339 These hands have made, and can unmake again, Nor know they aught of love, or fear, or pain. 340 Go, loiter not, this place befits thee nought. Thou knowest many things full dearly bought. And well I love thee, being so wise and fair, But what is knowledge in this deadly air, That floats about thee, poisoning hearts of man. Behold I see thy cheeks, that erst were wan, Flaming with new desire, and in thine eyes Shine out new thoughts that from thine heart arise ; Gird up thy raiment, nor run slower now Than from the amorous bearer of the bow 350 Once Daphne ran ; nor yet forget the word That thou from deadly lips this day hast heard.' So said she, and thereat the Colchian maid Turned from her fair face shuddering and afraid. With beating heart, and flushed face like the rose That in the garden of Damascus grows. And catching up her raiment, hurried through The mighty hall, where thick the pillars blue Stood like a dream to hold the roof aloft ; But as she left it, musky odours soft 360 Were cast about her by the dallying breeze. That through the heavy -fruited garden-trees Blew o'er those golden heads and bodies white. And limbs well made for manifold delight. From 'twixt whose flngers and the strings, did flow Sweet music such as Helicon might know. But dizzied, hurrying through the place she past, Nor any look upon their beauty cast. Nor any thought unto the music gave, But set herself her own vext soul to save 370 From that dread place ; beginning now to run Like to a damsel of the lightfoot One, Who oft from twilight unto twilight goes Through still dark woods, where never rough wind blows. So, the grove passed, she made good speed to reach The edges of the sea, the wind-swept beach ; But as she ran, afar the heroes saw 362 through] 'twixt XIV. 6 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 489 Her raiment fluttering, and made haste to draw Their two-edged swords, and their strong bows to string, Doubting that she was chased of some dread thing ; And Jason leapt ashore, and toward her ran, ' 381 And with him went the arrow-loving man, The wise Arcadian, and the Minyse Got ready shielded Argo for the sea. But ere these met her, with uplifted hand. She cried : ' Turn back, nor deeper in this land Thrust ye your souls ; nought chases nie but fear, And air is well if on the sea we were ; Yea, if we once were free from fear and spell, Then, truly, better were all things than well.' 39° Thereat they stayed, but onward still she ran Until she reached them, and the godlike man Took by the arm, and hurrying him along. Stayed not until their feet were set among The last faint ripples of the gentle sea, Wherefrom they boarded Argo speedily. And Jason bid all men unto the oar. With that they left the fair death-bearing shore. Not gladlier than some fair young man may leave His love, upon the odorous summer eve, 400 When she turns sighing to her father's house. And leaves him there alone and amorous. Heartsick with all that shame has let him see, Grieved that no bolder he has dared to be. BOOK XIV The Sirens— The Garden of the Hespcridcs— The heroes do sacrifice at Malea. Now o'er the open sea they took their way. For three days, and at dawning of the day. Upon the fourth, saw the Trinacrian shore. And there-along they coasted two days more. Then first Medea warned them to take heed. Lest they should end all memory of their deed 490 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv Where dwell the Sirens on the yellow sand, And folk should think some tangled poisonous land Had buried them, or some tumultuous sea O'er their white bones was tossing angrily ; lo Or that some muddy river, far from Greece Drove seaward o'er the ringlets of the fleece. But when the Minyae hearkened to this word, With many a thought their Avearied hearts were stirred, And longing for the near-gained Grecian land, Where in a little while their feet should stand ; Yet none the less like to a happy dream, Now, when they neared it, did their own home seem, And like a dream the glory of their quest. And therewithal some thought of present rest 20 Stole over them, and well-nigh made them sigh To hear the sighing restless wind go by. f But now, nigh even on the second day, As o'er the gentle waves they took their way, The orange -scented land-breeze seemed to bear Some other sounds unto the listening ear Than all day long they had been hearkening — The land-born signs of many a well-known thing. Thereat Medea trembled, for she knew That nigh the dreadful sands at last they drew, 30 For certainly the Sirens' -song she heard. Though yet her ear could shape it to no word, And by their faces could the queen behold How sweet it was, although no tale it told, To those worn toilers o'er the bitter sea. Now, as they sped along, they presently, Rounding a headland, reached a little bay. Walled from the sea by splintered cliffs and grey. Capped by the thymy hills' green wind-beat head, Where 'mid the whin the burrowing rabbits fed. 40 And 'neath the cliff they saw a belt of sand, 'Twixt Nereus' pasture and the high scarped land. Whereon, yet far off, could their eyes behold White bodies moving, crowned and girt with gold, Wherefrom it seemed that lovely music welled. 41 belt] waste 7-84 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 491 So when all this the grey-eyed queen beheld, She said : ' Jason, I have made thee wise In this and other things ; turn then thine eyes Seaward, and note the ripple of the sea. Where there is hope as well as fear for thee. 5° Nor look upon the death that lurketh there 'Neath the grey cliff, though sweet it seems and fair ; For thou art young upon this day to die. Take then the helm, and gazing steadily Upon the road to Greece, make strong thine hand And steer us toward the lion -haunted land : And thou, Thracian ! if thou e'er hast moved Men's hearts, with stories of the Gods who loved, And men who suffered, move them on this day, Taking the deadly love of death away, 6o That even now is stealing over them, While still they gaze upon the ocean's hem, Where their undoing is if they but knew.' But while she spake, still nigher Argo drew Unto the yellow edges of the shore, And little help she had of ashen oar, For as her shielded side rolled through the sea, Silent with glittering eyes the Minyse Gazed o'er the surge, for they were nigh enow To see the gusty wind of evening blow 7° Long locks of hair across those bodies white, With golden spray hiding some dear delight ; Yea, nigh enow to see their red lips smile, Wherefrom all song had ceased now for a while. As though they deemed the prey was in the net, And they no more had need a bait to set, But their o'wai bodies, fair beyond man's thought, Under the grey cliff, hidden not of aught But of such mist of tears as in the eyes Of those seafaring men might chance to rise. 8o A moment Jason gazed, then through the waist Ran swiftly, and with trembling hands made haste To trim the sail, then to the tiller ran, And thnist aside the skilled Milesian man, 492 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv Who with half-open mouth, and dreamy eyes, Stood steering Argo to that land of lies ; But as he staggered forward, Jason's hand Hard on the tiller steered away from land, And as her head a little now fell off Unto the wide sea, did he shout this scoff 90 To Thracian Orpheus : ' JNiinstrel, shall we die, Because thou hast forgotten utterly What things she taught thee that men call divine, Or will thy measures but lead folk to wine, And scented beds, and not to noble deeds ? Or \W11 they fail as fail the shepherd's reeds Before the trumpet, when these sea-witches Pipe shrilly to the washing of the seas ? I am a man, and these but beasts, but thou Giving these souls, that all were men ere now 100 Shall be a very God and not a man ! ' So spake he ; but his fingers Orpheus ran Over the strings, and sighing turned away From that fair ending of the sunny bay ; But as his well-skilled hands were preluding What his heart swelled with, they began to sing With pleading voices from the yellow sands, Clustered together, with appealing hands Reached out to Argo as she turned away. While o'er their wliite limbs flew the flakes of spray. Since they spared not to set white feet among m The cold waves heedless of their honied song. Sweetly they sung, and still the answer came Piercing and clear from him, as bursts the flame From out the furnace in the moonless night ; Yet, as their words are no more known aright Tlirough lapse of many ages, and no man Can any more across the waters wan Behold those singing women of the sea. Once more I pray you all to pardon me, 120 If with my feeble voice and harsh I sing From what dim memories may chance to cling About men's hearts, of lovely things once sung Beside the sea, while yet the world was young. 85-152 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 493 The Sirens. happy seafarers are ye, And surely all your ills are past, And toil upon the land and sea, Since ye are brought to us at last. To you the fashion of the world, Wide lands laid waste, fair cities burned, 130 And plagues, and kings from kingdoms hurled. Are nought, since hither ye have turned. For as upon this beach we stand. And o'er our heads the sea-fowl flit, Our eyes behold a glorious land. And soon shall be ye kings of it. Orpheus. A little more, a little more, O carriers of the Golden Fleece, A little labour with the oar. Before we reach the land of Greece. 140 E'en now perchance faint rumours reach Men's ears of this our victory, And draw them down unto the beach To gaze across the empty sea. But since the longed-for day is nigh, And scarce a God could stay us now. Why do ye hang your heads and sigh. Hindering for nought our eager prow ? The Sirens. Ah, had ye chanced to reach the home Your fond desires were set upon, 15c Into what troubles had ye come. What barren victory had ye won. 148 And still go slower and more slow ? 494 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv But now, but now, when ye have lain Asleep with us a little while Beneath the washing of the main, How calm shall be your waking smile ! For ye shall smile to think of life That knows no troublous change or fear, No unavailing bitter strife. That ere its time brings trouble near. i6o Orpheus. Is there some murmur in your ears, That all that we have done is nought, And nothing ends our cares and fears, Till the last fear on us is brought ? The Sirens. Alas ! and will ye stop your ears, In vain desire to do aught, And wish to live 'mid cares and fears. Until the last fear makes you nought ? Orpheus. Is not the May time now on earth. When close against the city wall 170 The folk are singing in their mirth. While on their heads the May-flowers fall ? The Sirens. Yes, May is come, and its sweet breath Shall well-nigh make you weep to-day, And pensive with swift-coming death, Shall ye be satiate of the May. Orpheus. Shall not July bring fresh delight, As underneath green trees ye sit. And o'er some damsel's body white The noontide shadows change and flit ? 180 153-208 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 495 The Sirens. No new delight July shall bring, But ancient fear and fresh desire, And, spite of every lovely thing, Of July surely shall ye tire. Orpheus. And now when August comes on thee. And 'mid the golden sea of corn The merry reapers thou mayst see, Wilt thou still think the earth forlorn ? The Sirens. Set flowers on thy short-lived head, And in thine heart forgetfulness 190 Of man's hard toil, and scanty bread, And weary of those days no less, Orpheus. Or wilt thou climb the sunny hill, In the October afternoon. To watch the purple earth's blood fill The grey vat to the maiden's tune ? The Sirens. When thou beginnest to grow old. Bring back remembrance of thy bliss With that the shining cup doth hold. And weary helplessly of this. 200 Orpheus. Or pleasureless shall we pass by The long cold night and leaden day, That song, and tale, and minsti'elsy Shall make as merry as the May ? The Sirens. List then to-night, to some old tale Until the tears o'erflow thine eyes ; But what shall all these things avail, When sad to-morrow comes and dies ? 496 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv Orpheus. And when the world is born again, And with some fair love, side by side, 210 Thou wanderest 'twixt the sun and rain, In that fresh love-begetting tide ; Then, when the world is born again. And the sweet year before thee lies, Shall thy heart think of coming pain, Or vex itself with memories ? Tub Sirens. Ah ! then the world is born again With burning love unsatisfied, And new desires fond and vain, And weary days from tide to tide. 220 Ah ! when the world is born again, A little day is soon gone by. When thou, unmoved by sun or rain, Within a cold straight house shall lie. Therewith they ceased awhile, as languidly The head of Argo felloff towaixl the sea, And through the water she began to go. For from the land a fitful wind did blow, That, dallying with the many-coloured sail, Would sometimes swell it out and sometimes fail, 2;,o As nigh the east side of the bay they drew ; Then o'er the waves again the music flew . The Sirens. Think not of pleasure, short and vain, Wherewith, 'mid days of toil and pain, With sick and sinking hearts ye strive To cheat yourselves that ye may live W^ith cold death ever close at hand. Think rather of a peaceful land. The changeless land where ye may be Hoofed over by the changeful sea. 240 209-272 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 497 Orpheus. And is the fair town nothing then, The coming of the wandering men With that long talked of thing and strange, And news of how the kingdoms change, The pointed hands, and Avondering At doers of a desperate thing ? Push on, for surely this shall be Across a narrow strip of sea. The Sirens. Alas ! poor souls and timorous, Will ye draw nigh to gaze at us 250 And see if we are fair indeed, For such as we shall be your meed. There, where our hearts would have you go. And where can the earth-dwellers show In any land such loveliness As that wherewith your eyes we bless, wanderers of the Minyae, Worn toilers over land and sea ? Orpheus. Fair as the lightning thwart the sky. As sun-dyed snow upon the high 260 Untrodden heaps of threatening stone The eagle looks upon alone, O fair as the doomed victim's wreath, O fair as deadly sleep and death, What will ye with them, earthly men, To mate yovu" three -score years and ten ? Toil rather, suffer and be free, Betwixt the green earth and the sea. The Sirens. If ye be bold with us to go. Things such as happy dreams may show 270 Shall your once heavy eyes behold About GUI* palaces of gold ; MOREIS ^ ]£ 498 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv Where waters 'neath the waters run, And from o'erhead a harmless sun Gleams through the woods of chrysolite. There gardens fairer to the sight Than those of the Phseacian king Shall ye behold ; and, wondering, Gaze on the sea-born fruit and flowers, And thornless and unchanging bowers, 280 Whereof the May-time knoweth nought. So to the pillared house being brought, Poor souls, ye shall not be alone. For o'er the floors of pale blue stone All day such feet as ours shall pass, And, 'twixt the glimmering walls of glass, Such bodies garlanded with gold. So faint, so fair, shall ye behold, ' And clean forget the treachery Of changing earth and tumbling sea. 2^0 Orpheus. the sweet valley of deep grass, Where through the summer stream doth pass, In chain of shallow, and still pool, From misty morn to evening cool ; Where the black ivy creeps and twines O'er the dark-armed, red-trunked pines, Whence clattering the pigeon flits, Or, brooding o'er her thin eggs, sits. And every hollow of the hills With echoing song the mavis fills. 300 There by the stream, all unafraid, Shall stand the happy shepherd maid. Alone in first of sunlit hours ; Behind her, on the dewy flowers. Her homespun woollen raiment lies. And her white limbs and sweet grey eyes Shine from the calm green pool and deep. While round about the swallows sweep. Not silent ; and would God that we, Like them, were landed from the sea. 31° 273-346 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASOX 499 The Sirens. Shall we not rise with you at night, Up through the shimmering green twilight. That maketh there our changeless day, Then going through the moonlight grej', Shall we not sit upon these sands, To think upon the troublous lands Long left behind, where once ye were, When every day brought change and fear ? There, with white arms about yovi twined. And shuddering somewhat at the wind 320 That ye rejoiced erewhile to meet, Be happy, while old stories sweet, Half understood, float round your ears, And fill your eyes with happy tears. Ah ! while we sing unto you there. As now we sing, with yelloAV hair Blown round about these pearly limbs, While underneath the grej^ sky swims The light shell-sailor of the waves. And to our song, from sea-filled caves 330 Booms out an echoing harmony, Shall ye not love the peaceful sea ? Orpheus. Nigh the \ine-covered hillocks green. In days agone, have I not seen The brown-clad maidens amorous, Below the long rose-trellised house. Dance to the querulous pipe and shrill, When the grey shadow of the hill Was lengthening at the end of day '{ Not shadowy or pale were they, 340 But limbed like those who 'twixt the trees, Follow the swift of Goddesses. Sunburnt they are somewhat, indeed. To where the rough bro\^^l woollen weed Is drawn across their bosoms sweet, Or cast from off their dancing feet ; K k 2 500 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv But yet the stars, the moonlight grey, The water wan, the daAvn of day, Can see their bodies fair and white As Hers, who once, for man's delight, 350 Before the world grew hard and old, Came o'er the bitter sea and cold ; And surely those that met me there, Her handmaidens and subjects were ; And shame-faced, half-repressed desire Had lit their glorious eyes with fire, That maddens eager hearts of men. O would that I were with them when The risen moon is gathering light, And yellow from the homestead white 360 The windows gleam ; but verily This waits us o'er a little sea. The Sirens. Come to the land where none grows old, And none is rash or over-bold. Nor any noise there is or war, Or rumour from wild lands afar, Or plagues, or birth and death of kings ; No vain desire of unknown things Shall vex you there, no hope or fear Of that which never draweth near ; 370 But in that lovely land and still Ye may remember what ye will. And what ye will, forget for aye. So while the kingdoms pass away, Ye sea-beat hardened toilers erst, Unresting, for vain fame athirst, Shall be at peace for evermore, With hearts fulfilled of Godlike lore, And calm, unwavering Godlike love, No lapse of time can turn or move. 380 There, ages after your fair fleece Is clean forgotten, yea, and Greece I 347-416 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 501 Is no more counted glorious, Alone with us, alone with us, Alone with us, dwell happily, Beneath our trembling roof of sea. Orpheus. Ah ! do ye weary of the strife And long to change this eager life For shadowy and dull hopelessness, Thinking indeed to gain no less 390 Than far from this grey light to lie, And there to die and not to die, To be as if ye ne'er had been. Yet keep your memory fresh and green, To have no thought of good or ill Yet feed your fill of pleasure still ? idle dream ! Ah, verily If it shall happen unto me That I have thought of anything. When o'er my bones the sea-fowl sing, 4°° And I lie dead, how shall I pine For those fresh joys that once were mine, On this green fount of joy and mirth. The ever young and glorious earth ; Then, helpless, shall I call to mind Thoughts of the sweet flower-scented wind, The dew, the gentle rain at night. The wonder-Avorking snow and white, The song of birds, the water's fall. The sun that maketh bliss of all 410 Yea, this our toil and victory. The tyrannous and conquered sea. The Sirens. Ah, will ye go, and av hither then Will ye go from us, soon to die. To fill your three-score years and ten, With many an unnamed misery I 391 This line was not in the first edition. 392 And there] Than this, 396 Yet keep some thrilling pleasure still ? 406 the sweet flower-scented] the flower-scented 502 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv And this the Avretchedest of all That when upon your lonely eyes The last faint heaviness shall fall Ye shall bethink you of our cries, 420 Come back, nor groMii old seek in vain To hear us sing across the sea. Come back, come back, come back again, Come back, fearful Minyse ! Orpheus. Ah, once again, ah, once again, The black prow plunges through the sea. Nor yet shall all your toil be vain Nor ye forgot, Minyse. In such wise sang the Thracian in such wise Out gushed the Sii'ens' deadly melodies ; 430 But long before the mingled song was done, Back to the oars the Minyse, one by one, iSlunk silently ; though many an one sighed sore, As his strong fingers met the wood once more. And from his breast the toilsome breathing came But as they laboured, some for very shame Hung doAvn their heads, and yet amongst them some Gazed at the place whence that sweet song had come ; But round the oars and Argo's shielded side The sea grew white, and she began to glide 440 Swift through the waters of that deadly bay ; But when a long wake now behind her lay. And still the whistle of the wind increased, Past shroud and mast, and all the song had ceased, Butes rose up, the fair Athenian man, And with wild eyes betwixt the rowers ran Unto the poop and leapt into the sea ; Then all men rested on their oars, but he Rose to the top, and towards the shore swam fast ; While all eyes watched him, who had well-nigh past The place where sand and water 'gan to meet 451 In Avreaths and ripples round the ivory feet, 417-490 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 503 When sun-burnt swimmer, snow-white glancing limb, And yellow sand unto their eyes grew dim, Nor did they see their fellow any more. But when they once again beheld the shore The wind sung o'er the empty beach and bare. And by the cliff uprose into the air A delicate and glittering little cloud. That seemed some many-coloured sun to shroud ; 460 But as the rugged cliff it drew above The wondering Minyai beheld it move Westward, toward Lilybseum and the sun. Then once more was their seaward course tegun, And soon those deadly sands were far astern, Nor ever after could the heroes learn If Butes lived or died ; but old tales tell That while the tumbling waves he breasted well, Venus beheld him, as unseen she drew From sunny Cyprus to the headland blue 47° Of Lilybseum, where her temple is ; She, with a mind his sun-burnt brows to kiss, E'en as his feet were dropping nigh the beach, And ere his hand the deadly hands could reach, Stooped, as the merlin stoops upon the dove, And snatched him thence to be awhile her love, Betwixt the golden pillars of her shrine. That those who pass the ^gades see shine From high-raised Lilybseum o'er the sea. But far away the sea-beat Minyae 480 Cast forth the foam, as through the growing night They laboured ever, having small delight In life all empty of that promised bliss, In love that scarce can give a dying kiss, In pleasure ending sweet songs with, a wail. In fame that little can dead men avail, In vain toil struggling with the fateful stream. In hope, the promise of a morning dream. Yet as night died, and the cold sea and grey Seemed running with them toward the dawn of day, 468 while] as 504 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv Needs must they once again forget their death, 491 Needs must they, being alive and drawing breath, As men who of no other life can know In their own minds again immortal grow. But toward the south a little now they bent, And for awhile o'er landless sea they went But on the third day made another land I At dawn of day, and thitherward did stand ; And since the wind blew lightly from the shore, Somewhat abeam, they feared not with the oar 500 To push across the shallowing sea and green, That washed a land the fairest they had seen, Whose shell-strewn beach at highest of the tide 'Twixt sea and flowery shore was nowise wide, And drawn a little backward from the sea ^| There stood a marble wall wrought cunningly, Rosy and white, set thick with images, And over-topped with heavy-fruited trees, Which by the shore ran, as the bay did bend. And to their eyes had neither gap nor end ; 510 Nor any gate : and looking over this, They saw a place not made for earthly bliss. Or eyes of dying men, for growing there The yellow apple and the painted pear, And well-filled golden cups of oranges Hung amid groves of pointed cyprus trees ; On grassy slopes the twining vine-boughs grew, And hoary olives 'twixt far mountains blue. And many-coloured flowers, like as a cloud The rugged southern cliffs did softly shroud ; 520 And many a green-necked bird sung to his mate Within the slim-leaved, thorny pomegranate. That flung its unstrung rubies on the grass, And slowly o'er the place the wind did pass Heavy with many odours that it bore From thymy hills down to the sea-beat shore, Because no flower there is, that all the year, From spring to autumn, beareth otherwhere, 519 like as a] like a 521 sung to his mate] they saw alight I 491-567 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 505 But there it flourished ; nor the fruit alone From 'twixt the green leaves and the boughs outshone, For there each tree was ever flowering. 531 Nor was there lacking many a living thing Changed of its nature, for the roe -deer there Walked fearless with the tiger, and the bear Rolled sleepily upon the fruit-strawn grass, Letting the coneys o'er his rough hide pass. With blinking eyes, that meant no treachery. Careless the partridge passed the red fox by ; Untouched the serpent left the thrushes bro\vn, And as a picture was the lion's frown. 540 But in the midst there was a grassy space, Raised somewhat over all the flowery place, On marble terrace-walls wrought like a dream ; And round about it ran a clear blue stream. Bridged o'er with marble steps, and midmost there Grew a green tree, whose smooth grey boughs did bear Such fruit as never man elsewhere had seen, For 'twixt the sunlight and the shadow green Shone out fair apples of red gleaming gold. Moreover round the tree, in many a fold, 550 Lay coiled a dragon, glittering little less Than that which his eternal watchfulness Was set to guard ; nor yet was he alone, For from the daisied grass about him shone Gold raiment wrapping round two damsels fair. And one upon the steps combed out her hair, And with shut eyes sung low as in a dream ; And one stood naked in the cold blue stream, While on the bank her golden raiment lay ; But on that noontide of the quivering day, 560 She only, hearing the seafarers' shout. Her lovely golden head had turned about, And seen their white sail flapping o'er the wall, And as she turned had let her tresses fall. Which the thin water rippling round her knee Bore outward from her toward the restless sea. Not long she stood, but looking seaward yet, 535 fruit-strawn] fruit-strown 547 had] has 506 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv From out the water made good haste to get, And catching up her raiment hastily, Ran up the marble stair, and 'gan to cry : 5:^ ' Wake, my sisters, wake, for now are come The thieves of Md to our peaceful home.' Then at her voice they gat them to their feet, And when her raiment all her body sweet Once more had hidden, joining hand to hand, About the sacred apples did they stand, While coiled the dragon closer to the tree. And raised his head above them threateningly. Meanwhile, from Argo many a sea-beat face Gazed longingly upon that lovely place, 5S0 And some their eager hands already laid Upon the gangway. Then Medea said : — ' Get back unto the oars, Minyse, Nor loiter here, for what have such as we To do herein, where, 'mid undying trees, Undying watch the wise Hesperides, And where the while they watch, scarce can a God Set foot upon the fruit-besprinkled sod That no snow ever covers ? therefore haste, Nor yet in wondering your fair lives waste ; 59'= For these are as the Gods, nor think of us, Nor to their eyes can aught be glorious That son of man can do ; would God that I Could see far off the misty headland lie, Where we the guilt of blood shall wash away, For I grow weary of the dashing spray, And ceaseless roll of interwoven seas, And fain were sitting 'neath the whispering trees In homely places, where the children play, Who change like me. grow old, and die some day.' 600 She ceased, and little soothly did they grieve, For all its loveliness, that land to leave. For now some God had chilled their hardihead. And in their hearts had set a sacred dread, They knew not why ; but on their oars they hung, A little longer as the sisters sung. 4 568-^45 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 507 ' O ye, who to this place have strajed, That never for man's eyes was made, Depart in haste, as ye have come. And bear back to your sea-beat home 6io This memory of the age of gold, And for your eyes, grown over-bold, Your hearts shall pay in sorrowing, For want of many a half -seen thing. ' Lo, such as is this garden green, In days past, all the world has been, And what we know all people knew, But this, that unto worse all grew. ' But since the golden age is gone. This little place is left alone, 620 Unchanged, unchanging, watched of us, The daughters of wise Hesperus. ' Surely the heavenly Messenger Full oft is fain to enter here, And yet without must he abide. Nor longeth less the dark king's bride To set red lips unto that fruit That erst made nought her mother's suit. Here would Diana rest awhile. Forgetful of her woodland guile, 630 Among these beasts that fear her nought. Nor is.it less in Pallas' thought. Beneath our trees to ponder o'er The wide, unfathomed sea of lore ; And oft-kissed Cithersea, no less Weary of love, full fain would press These flowers with unsandalled feet. ' But unto us our rest is sweet, Neither shall any man or God Or lovely Goddess touch the sod 640 Where-under old times buried lie, Before the world knew misery. Nor will we have a slave or king, Nor yet will we learn anything But that we know, that makes us glad ; 508 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv While oft the very Gods are sad With knowing what the Fates shall do ' Neither from us shall wisdom go To fill the hungering hearts of men, Lest to them threescore years and ten 650 Come but to seem a little day, Once given, taken soon away. Nay, rather let them find their life Bitter and sweet, fulfilled of strife, Restless with hope, vain with regret, Trembling with fear, most strangely set 'Twixt memory and forgetfulness ; So more shall joy be, troubles less, And surely when all this is past, They shall not want their rest at last. 660 ' Let earth and heaven go their way, While still we watch from day to day. In this green place left all alone, A remnant of the days long gone.' There in the wind they hung, as word by word The clear-voiced singers silently they heard ; But when the air was barren of their song, Anigh the shore they durst not linger long, So northward turned fore wearied Argo's head. And dipping oars, from that fair country sped, 670 Fulfilled of new desires and pensive thought, Which that day's life unto their hearts had brought. Then hard they toiled upon the bitter sea. And in two days they did not fail to be In sight of land, a headland high and blue, Which straight Milesian Erginus knew To be the fateful place which now they sought. Stormy Malea, so thitherward they brought The groaning ship, and, casting anchor, lay Beneath that headland's lee, within a bay, 680 Wherefrom the more part landed, and their feet Once more the happy soil of Greece did meet. Therewith they failed not to bring ashore Bich robes of price and of fair arms good store, And gold and silver, that they there might buy 646-723 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 509 What yet they lacked for their solemnity ; Then, while upon the highest point of land Some built an altar, Jason, with a band Of all the chiefest of the Minyse, Turned inland from the murmur of the sea. 690 Not far they went ere by a little stream Down in a valley they could see the gleam Of brazen pillars and fair-gilded vanes. And, dropping down by dank dark-wooded lanes From off the hill-side, reached a house at last Where in and out men -slaves and women passed, And guests were streaming fast into the hall Where now the oaken boards were laid for all. With these the Minyae went, and soon they were Within a pillared hall both great and fair, 700 Where folk already sat beside the board, And on the dais was an ancient lord. But when these saw the fearless Minyse Glittering in arms, they sprang up hastily, And each man turned about unto the wall To seize his spear or staff : then through the hall Jason cried out : ' Laconians, fear ye not, Nor leave the flesh-meat while it yet is hot For dread of us, for we are men as ye, And I am Jason of the Minyse, 710 And come from JEa, to the land of Greece, And in my ship bear back the Golden Fleece, And a fair Colchian queen to fill my bed. And now we pray to share your wine and bread, And other things we need, and at om- hands That ye will take fair things of many lands.' ' Sirs,' said the ancient lord, ' be welcome here, Come up and sit by me, and make such cheer As here ye can : glad am I that to me The first of Grecian men from off the sea 720 Ye now are come.' Therewith the great hall rang With joyful shouts, and as, with clash and clang Of well- wrought arms, up to the dais they went, 723] Of well- wrought arms] Of brass and steel 510 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xiv. 724 All eyes upon the Minyse were bent, Nor could they have enough of wondering At this or that sea-tossed victorious king. So with the strangers there they held high feast, And afterwards the slaves drove many a beast Down to th3 shore, and carried back again Great store of precious things in pack and wain ; 730 Wrought gold and silver, gems, full many a bale Of scarlet cloth, and fine silk, fit to veil The perfect limbs of dreaded Goddesses ; Spices fresh-gathered from the outland trees, And arms well-wrought, and precious scarce-known wine, And carven images well-nigh divine. So when all folk with these were satisfied, Back went the Minyge to the water-side, And with them that old lord, fain to behold Victorious Argo and the Fleece of Gold. 740 And so aboard amid the oars he lay Throughout the night, and at the dawn of day Did all men land, nor spared that day to wear The best of all they had of gold-wrought gear. And every one, being crowned with olive grey, Up to the headland did they take their way, Where now already stood the crowned priests About the altars by the gilt-horned beasts. There as the fair sun rose, did Jason break Over the altar the thin barley-cake, 750 And cast the salt abroad, and there were slain The milk-white bulls, and there red wine did rain On to the fire from out the ancient jar. And high rose up the red flame, seen afar From many another headland of that shore, And through its fitful crackling and its roar. From time to time in pleading song and prayer, Swept by the wind about the summer air, Clear rung the voices of the Minyse Unto the dashing of the conquered sea, 760 That far below thrust on by tide and wind The crumbling bases of the headland mined. 4 XV. 34 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 511 BOOK XV Argo in ambush — Medea goes to lolchos, and by her wiles brings Pelias to his death. But on the morrow did the Minyae Turn Argo's head once more to Thessaly, And surely now the steersman knew his way. As island after island every day They coasted, with a soft land-wind abeam ; And now at last like to a troubled dream Ssemed all the strange things they had seen erewhile, Now when they knew the very green sea's smile Beneath the rising and the setting sun, And their return they surely now had won lo To those familiar things long left behind, When on their sails hard drave the western wind. So past Euboea did they run apace. And swept with oars the perilous green race Betwixt Cerinthus and the islands white ; But, when they now had doubled that dread height, The shields that glittered upon Argo's side They drew inboard, and made a shift to hide Her golden eye and gleaming braveries, And heaped the deck with bales of merchandiz3, 20 And on their yard sails patched and browTi they bent, And crawling slowly, with six oars they went, Till Argo seemed like some Phcenician Grown old and leaky, on the water wan. Now at the entering of their o'vv^l green baj' There lies an island that men call to-day Green Cicynethus, low, and covered o'er With close-set trees, and distant from the shore But some five furlongs, and a shallow sea 'Twixt main and island ripples languidly, 3c And on the shore there dwells not any man For many a mile ; so there Erginus ran Argo disguised, and steering skilfully, Cast anchor with the island on his lee ; 512 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv Hid from the straits, and there struck sail and mast ; Then to the island shore the heroes past, And with their wide war-axes 'gan to lop Full many a sapling with green- waving top And full-leaved boughs of spreading maple-trees, And covered Argo's seaward side with these. 40 And then the shipmen did Medea bid To hold a shallop ready, while she hid Her lovely body in a rough grey gown And heavy home -spun mantle coarse and bro^^n, And round about her a great wallet slung, And to her neck an uncouth image hung Of Tauric Artemis, the cruel maid. Then, all being ready, to the prince she said : — ' O well-beloved, amongst our foes I go Alone and weak, nor do I surely know 50 If I shall live or die there ; but do thou Let one watch ever, who from off the prow Shall look towards wliite lolchos o'er the bay, And watching, wait until the seventh day, And if no sign thou hast from me by then, Believe me slain at hands of wicked men, Or shut in some dark prison at the least. While o'er my head thy foe holds royal feast. ' Then soothly if it lieth in thine heart To leave this land untouched, do thou thy part ; 60 Yet do I think thou wilt be man enow Unto the white-walled town to turn thy prow, And either die a man or live a king, Honoured of all, nor lacking anything But me thy love — whom thou wilt soon forget. When with thy tears my lone tomb has been wet A little space ; — so be it, do thy will. And of all good things mayst thou have thy fill Before thou comest to the shadowy land Where thou wilt strive once more to touch mine hand, And have no power e'en to meet these eyes 71 That for thy love shall see such miseries.' 52 Let one] Keep a I I 35-1 1 1 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 513 (She ceased, nigh weeping, but he wept indeed, Such tears as come to men in utmost need, When all words fail them, and the world seems gone. And with their love they fill the earth alone, Careless of shame, and not remembering death. But she clung round about him, with her breath Shortened with sobs, as she began to say : — ' Weep not, love, for surely many a day 8o May we be merry and forget all ill, Nor have I yet forgotten all my skill. And ere the days are gone thou well mayst see Thy deadly foe brought unto nought by me. And if indeed the Gods give me the day. Then shall thy wakeful watch see o'er the bay Smoke in the day-time, red flame in the night. Rise o'er lolchos' well-built walls and white ; Then linger not, but run out every oar, And hasten toward the many-peopled shore 90 That is thine own henceforth, as I am thine.' Therewith from him she turned her face divine, And reached the shallop over Argo's side, That o'er the shallows soon began to glide, Driven by arms of strong Eurydamas ; But when the keel dragged on the rank sea-grass, She stepped ashore, and back the hero turned Unto his fellows, who, with hearts that burned Unto the quays to bring great Argo's stem. And gain the glory that was waiting them, 100 Watched ever for the sign across the bay. Till nigh the dawning of the seventh day. But from the shore mito a thick-leaved wood Medea turned, drawing both cloak and hood Right close about her, lest perchance some man, Some hind, or fisher of the water wan. Should wonder at her visage, that indeed Seemed little worthy of that wretched weed. In that thick wood a little stream there was, That here was well-nigh hidden of the grass, no And there swelled into pools both clear and deep, MOREIS L 1 514 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv Wherein the images of trees did sleep, For it was noontide of the summer day. To such a pool Medea took her way, And reaching it, upon the grass laid down Her rough grey homespun cloak and wallet brown ; And when her eyes had swept the space around, Undid her tunic, that upon the ground Fell huddled round her feet ; nor did she spare To strip the linen from her body fair, 120 And shoes from off her feet ; then she drew near The flowery edges of the streamlet clear, And gazing down upon her image, stood. Hearkening the drowsy murmur of the wood ; And since the wind was hushed that noon of day. And moveless down her back the long locks lay. Her very self an image seemed to be. Wrought in some wondrous faint-hued ivory, Carved by a master among cunning men. So still she stood, that the quick water-hen 130 Noted her not, as through the blue mouse -ear He made his way ; the conies drew anear, Nibbling the grass, and from an oak-twig nigh A thrush poured forth his song unceasingly. But in a while, sighing, she turned away. And, going up to where the wallet lay, She opened it, and thence a phial drew That seemed to be well wrought of crystal blue, Which when she had unstopped, therefrom she poured Into the hollow of an Indian gourd, i4<» A pale green liquor, wherefrom there arose Such scent as o'er some poisonous valley blows. Where nought but dull-scaled twining serpents dwell, Nor any more now could the Colchian smell The water-mint, the pine-trees, or the flower Of the heaped-up sweet odorous virgin's bower. But shuddering, and with lips grown pale and wan, She took the gourd, and with shut eyes began Therefrom her body to anoint all o'er ; And this being done, she turned not any more 150 Unto the woodland brook, but hurrying. II2-I89 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 515 Drew on her raiment, and made haste to sling Her wallet round about her, nor forgot The Tauric image, ere the lovely spot She left unto the rabbit and the roe. And now straight toward lolchos did she go, But as she went, a hideous, fearful change Had come on her ; from sunken eyes and strange She gazed around ; white grew her golden hair, And seventy years her body seemed to bear ; i6o As though the world that coppice had passed by For half an age, and caught her presently, When from its borders once her foot had passed. Then she began to murmur, as she cast From changed eyes glances on her wrinkled hands : ' O Jason ! surely not for many lands. Rich and gold-bearing lands, would I do this ; But yet with thee to gain good peace and bliss Far greater things would I have done to-day.' So saying, she made haste upon her Avay, 170 Until at last, when it was well-nigh night. She reached the city crowned with towers white, And passing by the brazen gates of it, Fore wearied, by the fountain did she sit ; Where, as she waited, came an ancient crone,' W^ho, groaning, set her pitcher on the stone, And seeing the Colchian, asked her what she was. ' Mother,' Medea said, ' I strive to pass Unto fair Athens, where dwelt long ago My fathers, if perchance folk yet may know 180 Where they lie buried, that on that same stone I may lie do^vn and die ; a hapless one, Whom folk once called Aglaia, once called fair ; For years, long years agone, my golden hair Went down the wind, as carelessly I strayed Along the wet sea-beach, of nought afraid. And there my joy was ended suddenly, For on me fell the rovers of the sea, And bore me boimd into the land of Thrace, 174 the] a Ll2 516 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv And thence to some unnamed, far northern place, 190 Where I, a rich man's daughter, learned to bear Fetters and toil and scourging year by year ; Till it has happed unto me at the last, Now that my strength for toil is overpast. That I am free once more, if that is aught. Whom in all wretched places death has sought, And surely now will find — but wilt thou give Some resting-place to me, that I may live Until I come to Athens and my grave ? And certainly, though nought of gold I have, 200 In the far northland did I gather lore Of this and that amid my labour sore ; And chiefly of this Goddess, rites I know, Whose image round my neck thou seest now, Well-shod Diana — and a whispered word Within her inmost temple once I heard Concerning this : how men may grow to be E'en as the Gods, and gain eternity, And how the work of years may be undone.' When she had finished, the Thessalian crone, 210 Filling her jar with water, turned and said : — ' Surely, Athenian, I am sore afraid, Ere thou hast learned thy lesson utterly, And gained that new life, thou thyself wilt die ; Nor will it profit me, who am a slave Wishing for death, a wretched life to save : But hearken now, if thou art wise and bold. Then will I show thee how thou mayst earn gold And thanks enow, by telling this thy tale Unto rich folk, for them will it avail 220 To know thy secret ; rise, and come with me. And the king's daughters surely shalt thou see ; For on my road from nothing unto hell His palace is the last lodge where I dwell, And I am well aweary of it now, And of my toil, thanked with hard word and blow.' ' I thank thee, mother,' said the Colchian maid, * Nor of king's daughters shall I be afraid. Whose ears Latona's daughter erst have heard, I90-268 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 517 Nor trembled at the heavy dreadful word.' 230 Then on they passed, and as they went, the crone Told her how ^son unto death was done, And of the news that thither had been brought Of those that o'er the sea that glory sought. Namely, that when ^Eetes had been fain To trap the Argo, all had been in vain, Yet had he gone back well-nigh satisfied ; For in the night to him a voice had cried Louder and clearer than a mortal can : — ' Go back to ^a, sun-begotten man, 240 And there forget thy daughter and thy fleece, But yet be merry, for the thieves of Greece Shall live no longer than a poor wretch may Who lies unholpen on a lonely way Wounded, possessing nought but many woes, — Lo, thus it happeneth now unto thy foes ! ' This, said the crone, a Colchian had told To Pelias, dweller in the house of gold, And had large gifts from him ; who when he knew The certainty of this, old i5^son slew 250 With all his house who at lolchos were. 'So,' said she, ' if, for quieting his fear Of the sea-rover, such things he did give. What would his gifts be if thou mad'st him live His life again, with none of all his name Alive, to give him fear of death or shame ? ' With that they came unto the royal house Where Pelias dwelt, grown old and timorous. Oppressed with blood of those that he had slain. Desiring wealth and longer life in vain. 260 So there a court low-built the old crone sought, And to her lodging the tired Colchian brought, Where she might sleep, and gave her food and drink. Then into sleep did wise Medea sink. And dreamed that she herself, made ever young, Gold-robed within some peaceful garden sung. Like that where dwelt the wise Hesperides. But as she walked between the smooth-stemmed trees 267 dwelt] sung 518 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv She saw the sea rise o'er the marble wall, And rolling o'er, drown grass and flowers and all, 270 And draw on towards her, who no whit could move, Though from the high land Jason, her own love, Was shouting out to her, so then, at last. She dreamed the waters over all had passed And reached her feet, and o'er her coldly swept, And still undrowned, beneath the waves she wept, And still was Jason shouting to her there. Therewith she woke, and felt the morning air Cold on her face, because the ancient crone Over her couch the casement had undone. 280 And as she oped her eyes, she heard her say : — ■ ' Awake, O guest, for yet another day We twain must bear before we gain our rest. But now indeed I think it to be best That to my ladies I alone should show That prayers, and rites, and wonders thou dost know. Which thou wilt tell for gold ; for sure I deem That to us dying folk nought good doth seem, But hoarding for the years we shall not see. So bide thou there, and I will come to thee 290 And bring thee word of what the queens may say.' Then with these words she went upon her way. While in her place alone Medea sat, With eager heart, thinking of this and that, And wishing that the glorious day were come. When she should set her love within his home, A king once more. So 'mid these thoughts, there came Back to the place the wise Thessalian dame. Who bade her rise and after her to go, That she those marvels to the queens might show. 300 Therewith she brought her to a chamber where Abode the royal maidens slim and fair, All doing well-remembered works ; of whom White-armed Alcestis sat before the loom. Casting the shuttle swift from hand to hand. The while Eradne's part it was to stand Amongst the maids who carded out the wool 294 and] or 269-345 THE IJFE AND DEATH OF JASON 519 And filled the gleaming ivory shuttles full. Amphinome, meantime, her golden head Bent o'er the spinners of the milk-white thread, 310 And by the growing web still set aside The many-coloured bundles newly dyed, Blood-red, and heavenly blue, and grassy green, Yea, and more colours than man yet has seen In flowery meadows midmost of the May, Then to the royal maids the crone 'gan say : — ' Behold the woman, O my mistresses, Who 'midst the close-set gloomy northern trees Has late learned that I told you of ; and ye Who in this royal house live happily, 320 May well desire such life for evermore. Which unto me were but a burden sore ' Therewith she left them, but folk say, indeed, That she who spoke was nought but Saturn's seed, In very likeness of that woman old, Whose body soon folk came on, dead and cold, Within the place where she was wont to dwell. Now how these things may be, I cannot tell, But certainly Queen Juno's will was good To finish that which, in the oaken wood 330 Anigh the Centaur's cave, she first began, Giving good heart to the strange-nurtured man. But, she being gone, fair-limbed Amphinome Said : ' Reverend mother, welcome here ye be. And in return for thy so hard-earned lore That thou wilt teach us, surely never-more Shalt thou do labour whilst thou dwellest here. But unto us shalt thou be lief and dear As though thou wert the best of all our blood.' But, pondering awhile, Medea stood, 340 Then answered : ' Lady, I am now gro\\Ti old. And but small gifts to me were heaps of gold. Or rest itself, for that the tomb shall give ; I say all things are nought, unless I live So long henceforward, that I need not think 321 desire such life] desire life 520 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv When into nothing I at last must sink ; But take me now unto the mighty king That rules this land, and there by everything That he holds sacred, let him swear to me That I shall live in peace and liberty 350 Till quiet death upon my head is brought ; But this great oath being made, things shall be wrought By me, that never can be paid with gold ; For I will make that young which has grown old, And that alive that ye have seen lie dead.' Then much they wondered at the words she said, And from the loom did fair Alcestis rise, And tall Amphinome withdrew her eyes From the fair spinners, and Eradne left The carding of the fine wool for the weft. 360 Then said Eradne : ' Mother, fear not thou. Surely our father is good man enow, And will not harm thee : natheless, he will swear By whatsoever thing he holdeth dear, Nor needst thou have a doubt of him at all. Come, for he sitteth now within the hall.' With that, she took her shoes from off the ground And round her feet the golden strings she bound. As did her sisters, and fair cloaks they threw About them, and their royal raiment drew 370 Through golden girdles, gemmed and richly wrought. And forth with them the Colchian maid they brought. But as unto the royal hall they turned. Within their hearts such hot desire burned For lengthening out the life they knew so sweet, That scarce they felt the ground beneath their feet, And through the marble court long seemed the way. But when they reached the place, glittering and gay With all the slain man's goods, and saw the king Wearing his royal crown and mystic ring, 380 And clad in purple, and his wearied face, Anxious and cruel, gaze from .^son's place, A little thing it seemed to slay him there, As one might slay the lion in his lair, Bestrewn with bones of beast, and man, and maid. 346-425 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 521 Then as he turned to them, Alcestis said : — ' O lord and father, here we bring to thee A wise old woman, come from over sea; Who 'mid the gloomy, close-set northern trees Has heard the words of reverend Goddesses 39° I dare not name aloud ; therefore she knows Why this thing perishes, and that thing grows, And what to unborn creatures must befall, And this, the very chief est thing of all, To make the old man live his life again, And all the lapse of years but nought and vain ; But we, when these strange things of her we heard, Trembled before her, and were sore afeard, In 'midst of all our measureless desire Within thy veins and ours to set new fire, 4°° And with thee live for many a hapjoy day. Whilst all about us passes soon away.' Now paler grew the king's face at .this w^ord, And 'mid strange hopes he, too, grew sore afeard. As sighing, he began to think of days Now long gone by, when he was winning praise, And thought : ' If so be I should never die, Then would I lay aside all treachery. And here should all folk live without alarm, For to no man would I do any harm, 410 Whatso might hap, but I would bring again The golden age, free from all fear and pain.' But through his heart there shot a pang of fear, As to the queen he said : ' Why art thou here. Since thou hast mastered this all-saving art, Keeping but vagrant life for thine own part Of what thou boastest with the Gods to share ? Thou, but a dying woman, nowise fair.' ' Pelias,' she said, ' far from the north I come, But in Erectheus' city was my home, 420 Where being alone, upon a luckless day, By the sea-rovers was I snatched away, And in their long-ship, with bomid, helpless hands, Was brought to Thrace, and thence to northern lands, Of one of which I scarcely know the name. 522 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv Nor could your tongue the uncouth letters frame. There had I savage masters, and must learn With aching back to bend above the quern ; There must I learn how the poor craftsman weaves, Nor earn his wages ; and the barley-sheaves 430 Must bind in August ; and across the snow, Unto the frozen river must I go, When the white winter lay upon the land, And therewithal must I dread many a hand. And Avrithe beneath the whistle of the whip. ' 'Mid toils like these my youth from me did slip, Uncomforted, through lapse of wretched years, Till I forgot the use of sobs and tears, And like a corpse about my labour went, Grown old before my time, and worn and bent. 440 And then at last this good to me betid, That my wise mistress strove to know things hid From mortal men, and doubted all the rest. Babblers and young, who in our fox's nest | Dwelt through the hideous changes of the year : 1 Then me she used to help her, and so dear I grew, that when upon her tasks she went. Into all dangerous service was I sent ; And many a time, within the woods alone, Have I sat watching o'er the heaps of stone 450 Where dwell the giants dead ; and many a time Have my pale lips uttered the impious rhyme That calls the dead from their unchanged abode ; Till on my soul there lay a heavy load Of knowledge, not without reward, for I No longer went in rags and misery. But in such bravery as there they had My toil-worn body now was fairly clad, And feared by man and maid did I become, And mistress of my mistress' dreary home. 460 ' Moreover, whether that, being dead to fear, All things I noted, or that somewhat dear I now was groAvn to those dread Goddesses, I know not, yet amidst the haunted trees More things I learned than my old mistress did, i 426-503 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 523 Yea, some things surely from all folk else hid, Whose names once spoken would unroof this hall, And lay lolchos underneath a pall Of quick destruction ; and when these were learned, At last my mistress all her wage had earned, 47° And to the world was dead for evermore. ' But me indeed the whole house hated sore. First for my knowledge, next that, sooth to say, I, when I well had passed my evil day. And came to rule, spared not my fellows aught ; Whereby this fate upon my head was brought, That flee I must lest worse should hap to me ; So on my way unto the Grecian sea With weary heart and manifold distress. My feet at last thy royal pavement press. 480 My lips beseech thy help, mighty King ! Help me, that I myself may do the thing I most desire, and this great gift may give To thee and thine, from this time forth to live In youth and beauty while the world goes by With all its vain desires and misery. ' And if thou doubtest still, then hear me say The words thou spakst upon a long-past day. When thou wert fearful, and the half-shod man Had come upon thee through the water wan.' 49° She ceased awhile, and therewith Pelias, With open mouth and eyes as fixed as glass, Stared at hex, wondering. Then again she said : — ' Awhile ago, when he thou knowest dead, And he thou thinkest dead, were by thy side, A crafty wile thou forgedst ; at that tide Telling the tale of Theban Athamas, And how that Phryxus dead at Msi was. Thinking (and not in vain) to light the fire Of glorious deeds, and measureless desire 500 Of fame within the hearts of men o'erbold. ' For thus thou saidst : " So is the story told Of things that happened forty years agone, 483 gift may give] gift give 524 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv Nor of the Greeks has there been any one To set the bones of Phryxus in a tomb, Or mete out to the Colchian his due doom." ' So saidst thou then, and by such words didst drive Thy nephew m a hopeless game to strive, Wherefore thou deemest wisely he is dead, And all the words that he can say are said.' 510 She ceased again, while pale and shuddering, Across his eyes the crafty, fearful king Drew trembling hands. But yet again she spoke : — ' What if the Gods by me the strong chain broke Of thy past deeds, ill deeds wrought not in vain. And thou with new desires lived again ? Durst I still trust thee with my new-gained life 1 Who for the rest am not thy brother's wife, Thy nephew, or thy brother. Be it so. Yet since the foolish hearts of men I know, 520 Swear on this image of great Artemis That unto me thy purpose harmless is. Nor wilt thou do me hurt, or more or less. Then while thy lips the ivorj^ image press, Will I call down all terrors that I know Upon thine head if thou shouldst break thy vow. ' Yet for thyself dost thou trust what I say, Or wilt thou still be dying day by day ? ' ' Yea,' said the king, * yea, whosoe'er thou art, Needs must I trust thee, in such wise my heart 530 Desires life again when this is done. Give me the image, O thou fearful one. Who knowest all my life, who in the breath Wherein thou prayest help still threatenest death.' Then on the image did she swear the king, But while he spoke was she still muttering, W^ith glittering eyes fixed on him ; but at last, When from his lips the dreadful word had passed, She said : ' O King, pray that thou mayst not die Before the fifth day's sun has risen high ; 540 Yet on to-morrow morn shalt thou behold This hair of mine all glittering bright as gold, 542 glittering bright as] glittering as I 504-582 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 525 My tottering feet firm planted on the ground, My grey and shrivelled arms grown white and round, As once, when by Ilissus' side I trod, A snare of beauty to a very God, To young men's eyes a fierce consuming fire.' So saying, did she kindle fresh desire In the king's fainting heart, until he thought — ' Nay, if new life hereby to me is brought, 550 Withal there may be brought a lovely mate To share my happy days and scorn of fate.' Then did he bid his daughters straight to go With that wise woman, nor spare aught to do That she might bid them, and they wondering, But in their hearts yet fearful of the thing, Unto the women's chamber led her back. And bade her say what matters she might lack. Then little did she ask unto her need, But fair cold water, and some fitting weed, 560 And in a close-shut place to be alone, Because no eye must see the wonder done. And ' Oh,' she said, ' fair women, haste ye now, For surely weaker every hour I grow, And fear to die ere I can live again.' Then through the house they hastened, and with pain A brazen caldron their fair hands bore up. As well wrought over as a king's gold cup. Which in a well-hung chamber did they set, And filled with clear cold water, adding yet 570 New raiment wrought about with ruddy gold, And snowy linen wrapped in many a fold. Then did Medea turn unto the three. And said : ' Farewell, for no more shall ye see These limbs alive, or hear this feeble voice, For either shall my changed lips rejoice In my new beauty, or else stark and cold This wretched body shall your eyes behold. Wait now until six hours are over-passed, And if ye still shall find the door shut fast, 580 Then let the men bring hammers, neither doubt That thence my corpse alone shall they bear out. 526 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv But if the door is open or ajar, Draw nigh and see how great my helpers are, And greet what there ye see with little fear, For whatsoever may have touched me here, By then, at least, shall no one be with me. And nought but this old sorceress shall ye see Grown young again ; alas ! grown young again ! Would God that I were past the fear and pain ! ' 590 So said the Colchian ; but their fearful eyes Turned hastily from such hid mysteries As there might lurk ; and to their bower they gat, And well-nigh silent o'er the weaving sat, And did what things they needs must do that day. Until that six hours' space had passed away. Then had the sun set, and the whitening moon Shone o'er the gardens where the brown bird's tune Was quivering through the roses red and white, And sweeter smelt the sweet flowers with the night ; But to the chamber where there lay alone 601 The wise Medea, up the faint grey stone Two rose-trees climbed, along a trellis led, And with their wealth of blossoms white and red Another garden of the window made. So now the royal sisters, sore afraid, Each with a taper in her trembling hand, Before the fateful chamber-door did stand And heard no noise ; whereon Amphinome Pushed at the door, that yielded, and the three 610 Passing with beating hearts the oaken door. Pressed noiseless feet upon the polished floor, Reddening the moonshine with their tapers' light. There they beheld the caldron gleaming bright, And on the floor the heap of raiment rent That erst had hid the body old and bent ; And there a crystal phial they beheld Empty, that once some wondrous liquor held ; And by the window-side asleep they saw The Colchian woman, white without a flaw 620 600 the sweet flowers] the flowers 604 blossoms] flowers 583^59 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 527 From head to heel ; her round arms by her side, Her fair face flushed with sweet thoughts, as a bride Who waits the coming of some well-loved man. Softly she breathed, the while the moonlight ran In silver ripples o'er her hair of gold. But when that loveliness they did behold, They cried aloud for wonder, though not yet Her happy dreaming thoughts would she forget, But into spoken words her murmuring grew, Though of their purport nought the sisters knew, 630 Since in the outland Colchian tongue she spoke ; Then, while they waited, slov/ly she aAvoke, And looking round her, still with half -shut eyes, She said : ' damsels, fain would I arise, I hear the morning murmur of the birds And lowing of released and hungry herds Across the meadows, sweet with vetch and bean, And the faint ripple of the Phasis green.' But with that last word did she start upright, Shading her grey eyes from the tapers' light, 640 And said : ' O queens, and are ye come to me This eve, my triumph over time to see ? And is my boast for nought ? behold me made Like the fair casket-bearer who betrayed The luckless man while yet the Avorld was young.' So. saying did she speak as one who sung. So sweet her voice was ; then she stepped adown From off the silken couch, and rough and browii They seemed beside her, fair maids though they were. But silently they stood, and wondered there, 650 And from their hearts had flown all thoughts at last But that of living while the world went past. Then at her feet Alcestis knelt and prayed : — ' O, who can see thee, Goddess, unafraid ? Yet thou thyself hast promised life to us, More than man's feeble life, and perilous, And if thy promise now thou makest vain. How can we live our thoughtless life again ? Then, would thou ne'er hadst left thine heavenly home^ 528 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv And o'er the green Thessalian meadows come 1 ' 660 Then spoke Medea : ' Young as ye see me The king, your father, in few days shall be, And when that he has gained his just reward, Your lives from death and danger will I guard. Natheless no Goddess am I, but no more Than a poor wanderer from shore to shore, Though loved by her the swift of Goddesses, Who now is glancing 'twixt the dark grey trees. E'en while we speak. Now leave me to my rest, For this new -changed body is oppressed 670 By all the thoughts that romid my heart will throng Of ancient days, and hopes forgotten long ; Go, therefore, but come hither with the sun To do my bidding ; then shall there be done Another marvel ere the mom comes round, If yet ye three are dwelling above ground.' Then, trembling, they unto their chamber passed, But, they being gone, she made the strong door fast, And soon in deep sleep on the couch she lay Until the golden sun brought back the day ; 680 Nor could she fail arising to be glad That once again her own fair form she had. And as the fresh air met her pleasantly, She smiled, her image in the bath to see That had been lost since at the noon she stood Beside the still pool in the lonely wood ; And she rejoiced her combed-out hair to bind, And feel the linen in the morning wind Fluttering about, in kissing side and limb, And it was sweet about her ankles slim 690 To make the gemmed thongs of the sandals meet, With rosy fingers touching her soft feet. But she being clad, there came the ladies three. Who seemed by her but handmaidens to be ; And such indeed they were, as dumb with awe In the fresh morn that loveliness they saw. Then said Medea : ' Fair queens well be ye ! Surely in happy hour ye come to me. Who, if I might, would do the whole world good. 660-739 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 529 But now take heed ; is there some close dark wood 700 Anigh the town ? — thither will we to-night, And in that place, hidden from all men's sight. Shall ye see wonders passing human thought. But thither, by your hands there must be brought Some ancient beast at very point to die, That ye may see how loved an one am I By dreadful Gods ; there, too, must ye convey A brazen caldron ere the end of day, And nigh the place there must not fail to be Some running stream to help our mystery. 710 Yet more ; take heed that She who helpeth me, Whose name I name not, willeth not to see The robes of kings and queens upon her slaves ; Therefore, if ye would please the one who saves. This night must ye be clad in smocks of black. And all adornment must your bodies lack. Nor must there be a fillet on your hair, And the hard road must feel your feet all bare.' ' Lady,' Eradne said, ' all shall be done. Nor wilt thou yet have had beneath the sun 720 More faithful servants than we are to thee ; But wilt thou not the king my father see, And gladden him, that he may give thee tilings Such as the heart desires — the spoil of kings ? ' ' Nay,' said Medea, ' much have I to think Ere the hot sun beneath the sea shall sink, And much to call to mind, and for your sake Unto my Helper many a prayer to make.' With that they went, and she, being left alone, Took up the image of the swift-foot one, 730 Which for a hidden casket served her well, And wherein things were laid right strange to tell. So this and that she looked at, and the while She muttered charms learned in the river isle. But at the noontide did they bring her food, Saying that all was ready in the wood. And that the night alone they waited now, Ere unto them those marvels she might show. Therefore Medea bade them come again MOEEIS ]yi in 530 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv When all the house of peaceful sleep was fain, - 740 And nought was stirring : so at dead of night They came to her in black apparel dight, Bearing like raiment for the Colchian, ^Vho did it on before their faces wan And troubled ej^es ; then out of gates they stole, Setting their faces to the wished-for goal. Now nigh Anaurus a blind pathway leads Betwixt the yellow corn and whispering reeds, The home of many a shy, quick-diving bird ; Thereby they passed, and as they went they heard 750 Splashing of fish, and ripple of the stream ; And once they saw across the water's gleam The black boat of some fisher of the night, And from the stream had drawn back in affright, But that the Colchian whispered : ' Wise be ye, Thessalian sisters, yet with certainty Make onward to the wood, for who indeed, Beholding our pale faces and black weed, Would come the nigher to us ? Would not he Think that some dread things we must surely be, 760 And tremble till we passed ? Haste, for the night Is waning now, and danger comes with light.' Then on they passed, and soon they reached the wood, And straight made for the midst of it, where stood An old horned ram bound fast unto a tree. Which the torch-bearer, tall Amphinome, Showed to Medea, and not far therefrom Unto a brazen caldron did they come, Hidden with green boughs ; then Medea bade That by their hands a high pile should be made 77° Of fallen wood, and all else fit to burn ; Which done, unto the caldron did they turn And bore it to the river, and did strain | Their fair round arms to bear it back again " When it was filled, and raised it on the pile. And then with hands unused to service vile Lit up the fire, wnile Medea took Dried herbs from out her wallet, which she shook Into the caldron ; till at last a cloud 740-819 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 531 Rose up therefrom and the dark trees did shroud. 780 Then did she bid them the old ram to lead Up to the caldron's side, and with good heed To quench his just departing feeble life ; So in his throat Eradne thrust the knife, While in the white arms of Amphinome And fair Alcestis, bleating piteously. Feebly he struggled ; so being slain at last. Piecemeal his members did the sisters cast Into the seething water : then drew back And hid their faces in their raiment black, 790 The while Medea midst the flickering light Still sprinkled herbs from out her fingers white, And in a steady voice at last did say : — ' thou that turnest night into the day, thou the quencher of unhallowed fire, The scourge of hot, inordinate desire. Hast thou a mind to help me on this night, That wrong may still be wrong, and right be right In all men's eyes ? A little thing I ask Before I put an ending to my task.' 800 Scarce had she finished, ere a low black cloud Seemed closing o'er the forest, and aloud Medea cried : 'Oh, strong and terrible ! 1 fear thee not, do what may please thee well.' Then as the pale Thessalians with affright Crouched on the earth, forth leapt the lightning white Over their shrinking heads, and therewithal The thunder crashed, and dowTi the rain did fall, As though some angry deity were fain To make a pool of the Thessalian plain. 810 Till in a while it ceased, and all was stilled Except the murmur of some brook new-filled, And dripping of the thick-leafed forest trees As they moved gently in the following breeze. Yet still King Pelias' daughters feared to rise. And with wet raiment still they hid their eyes, And trembled, and white-armed Amphinome Had dropped the long torch of the resin-tree. That lay half -charred among the tall wet grass. M m 2 532 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv But unto them did wise Medea pass, 820 And said : ' O daughters of the sea-born man, Rise up, for now the stars are growing wan, And the grey dawn is drawing near apace ; Nor need ye fear to see another face Than this of mine, and all our work is done We came to do.' Then slowly, one by one. The sisters rose, and, fearful, drew anigh The place where they had seen the old ram die ; And there beheld, by glimmering twilight grey. Where on its side the brazen caldron lay, 830 And on the grass and flowers that hid the ground, Half -charred extinguished brands lay all around. But yet no token of the beast was there ; But 'mid the brands a lamb lay, white and fair. That now would raise his new-born head and bleat, And now w^ould lick the Colchian's naked feet. As close he nestled to her : then the three Drew nigh unto that marvel timidly. And gazed at him with wide eyes wondering. Thereat Medea raised the new-changed thing 840 In her white arms, and smiled triumphantly, And said : ' What things the Gods will do for me Ye now behold ; take, then, this new-born beast. And hope to sit long ages at the feast, And this your youth and loveliness to keep When all that ye have known are laid asleep. Yet steel your hearts to do a fearful thing, Ere this can happen, for unto the king Must your hands do what they have done to-night To this same beast. And now, to work aright 850 What yet is needful to this mystery. Will be four days' full bitter toil for me. Take heed that silence, too, on this ye keep. Or else a bitter harvest shall ye reap.' So said she, willing well indeed to know. Before the promised sign she dared to show. What honour Pelias in lolchos had. And if his death should make his people sad. 858 And if his death would make folk glad or sad. 1 820-897 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 533 But now they turned back on their homeward way, Fleeing before the coming of the day ; 860 Nor yet the flinty way their feet did feel, Nor their wet limbs the wind, that 'gan to steal From out the north-west ere the sun did rise. And swiftly though they went, yet did their eyes Behold no more than eyes of those that dream The crumbling edges of the swirling stream, Or fallen tree-trunks or the fallow rough. But Juno sent them feeling just enough By the lone ways to come unto the toMnn. And fair-walled palace, and to lay them down 870 Upon their fragrant beds, that stood forlorn Of their white bodies, waiting for the morn In chambers close-shut from the dying night. But since Medea fain would know aright What the folk willed to Pelias in the town, Early next day she did on her the brown And ragged raiment, and the sisters told That she must find the place where herbs were sold, And there buy this and that ; therewith she went About the town, seeming crook-backed and bent ; 880 And, hidden in her mantle and great hood, Within the crowded market-place she stood, And marked the talk of all the busy folk, And ever found that under Pelias' yoke All people groaned : and therefore with good heart She set herself to work out all her part. For, going back, till the fifth day was gone She dwelt within her chamber all alone, Except that now and then the sisters came To bring her food ; and M'hiles thej^ saw a flame, 890 Strange-coloured, burning on the hearth, wliile she Was bending o'er it, muttering wearily. And whiles they saw her bent o'er parchment strange, And letters that they knew not ; but no change They ever saw upon her lovely face. But at the last, she, mindful of the place Where lay fair Argo's glorious battered keel. 534 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv And that dread hidden forest of bright steel, Said to Eradne, when her food she brought Upon the sixth morn : ' Sister, I have thought 900 How best to carry out the mystery That is so dear at heart to thee and me, And find that this night must the thing be done, So seek a place where we may be alone. High up, and looking southward o'er the bay ; Thither ere midnight must ye steal away, And under a huge caldron set dry brands. And that being done, take sharp swords in your hands, And while I watch the sea, and earth, and air, Go ye to Pelias' well-hung chamber fair ; 910 There what ye will ye may most surely do. If ye will work the way I counsel you.' Therewith a phial in her hand she set, And said : ' Who tasteth this will soon forget Both life and death, and for no noise will wake In two days' space ; therefore this phial take. And with the king's drink see ye mingle it, As well ye may, and let his servants sit O'er wine so honied at the feast to-night. Then certes shall their sleep not be so light, 920 That bare feet pattering quick across the floor. Or unused creaking of an open door. Shall rouse them ; though no deadly drug it is, But bringer of kind sleep and dreamy bliss. ' But now, what think'st thou ? Are your hearts so good, That ye will dare to shed your father's blood That he may live for ever ? — then is he The luckiest of all men. But if ye Draw back now, after all my prayers and tears. Then were it best that ye should end your fears 930 By burning me with quick fire ere to-night. And yet not thus should ye lead lives aright. And free from fear ; because the sandalled queen Doth ever keep a memory fresh and green For all her faithful servants — ye did see Late in the green-wood how she loveth me. — 921 pattering quick across] pattering across 898-976 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 535 ' Therefore be wise, and when to-night ye draw The sharp-edged steel, glittering without a flaw. Cast fear and pity from you. Pity him I bid you rather, who with shrunken limb 940 And sunken eyes, remembers well the days When in the ranks of war he garnered praise, Which unarmed, feeble, as his last year ends, Babbling amongst the elders now he spends. Such shall not Pelias be, but rather now The breath of new life past misdeeds shall blow Adown the wind, and, taught by his old life. Shall he live honoured, free from fear or strife.' ' Fear not,' Eradne said, ' our will to-night. For all thy bidding will we do outright, 950 Since still a Goddess thou dost seem to be To us poor strugglers with mortality. And for the secret spot this night we need, Close to the sea a place I know indeed. Upon the outskirts of this palace fair ; And on this night of all nights, close by there My father sleeps, as oft his custom is. When he is fain a Mysian girl to kiss. Sea-rovers sold to him three months agone. There after midnight we shall be alone 960 Beyond all doubt, since this place by the sea A temple is of some divinity, Whose very name men now have clean forgot, And, as folk think, ill spirits haunt the spot : So all men fear it sore, but soothly we Fear nought of all these things, being led by thee.' She ceased, and from the Colchian won much praise, And promises of many happy days. Then as upon the door she laid her hand, Medea said : ' When midnight hides the land, 970 Come here to me, and bring me to that place ; Then look the last upon your father's face As ye have known it for these eighteen years. Furrowed by eld and dra^vn by many fears ; But when ye come, in such guise be ye clad As in the wood that other night ye had.' 536 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv Then did Eradne leave her, and the day- Through sunshine and through shadow passed away. But with the midnight oame the sisters three, To lead her to that temple by the sea, 980 And in black raiment had they hurried there, With naked feet, and unadorned loose hair, E'en as the other night Medea bade, Except that each one had a trenchant blade Slung roimd her neck, wherewith to do the deed. Of these Alcestis trembled like the reed Set midmost of some quickly running stream, But with strange fire Eradne 's eyes did gleam, And a bright flush was burning on her cheek. As still her fingers the sharp steel did seek ; 990 While tall Amphinome, grown pale and white Beyond all measure, gazed into the night With steady eyes, as with the queen they went To that lone place to work out their intent. So when all courts and corridors were passed, Unto the ancient fane they came at last, And foimd it twofold ; for below there stood Square marble pillars, huge, and red as blood. And wrought all o'er with fretting varying much ; Heavy they were, and nowise like to such 1000 As men built in the lands Medea knew, Or in the countries fate had led her through : But they, set close and thick, aloft did hold A well-wrought roof, where still gleamed scraps of gold, That once told tales of Gods none living praise ; And on this roof some king of later days Had built another temple long before The Minyse came adown unto that shore From fair Orchomenus, of whose rites indeed And to what Gods the victim then did bleed, loio Men knew but little ; but therein there rose Fair slim white pillars set in goodly rows, And garlanded with brazen fruit and flowers, That gleaming once, through lapse of many hours. Now with black spirals wrapt the pillars white. 977-1054 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 537 But this fair fcane was open to the night On one side only, toward the restless sea ; And there a terrace, wrought full cunningly, Clear of the pillars hung above the sand. Now went those maids, groping with outstretched hand Betwixt the pillars of the undercroft, 1021 Until they reached a stair that led aloft Into the windy, long-deserted fane Of younger days ; but when their feet did gain The open space above the murmuring sea, In whispers did the queens of Thessaly Show to the Colchian where the great pile was, Built 'neath a vessel of bright polished brass, And many water- jars there stood around ; And as they spoke, to them, the faint low sound T030 Of their own whispered voices seemed as loud As shouts that break from out the armed crowd Of warriors ready for the fight. But she Spoke with no lowered voice, and said : ' ye ! Be brave to-night, and thenceforth have no fear Of God or man since ye to me are dear. Light up the torches, because certainly Those that may see them gleaming o'er the sea Will think they light but spirits of the air ' Then presently the torches out did flare, 1040 And lighted up the smile upon her face And the tall pillars of the holy place. And the three sisters gazing at her there. Wild-looking, with the sea-wind in their hair, And scant black raiment driven from their feet. But when her eyes their fearful eyes did meet, With wild appealing glances as for aid, Some little pity touched the Colchian maid, Some vague regret for their sad destiny. But to herself she said : ' So must it be, 1050 And to such misery shall such a king Lead wife and child, and every living thing That trusts him.' Then she said, ' Leave me alone, And go and do that which were better done 538 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv Ere any streak of dawn makes grey the sky. And come to me when ye have seen him lie Dead to his okl life of misdeeds and woe.' Then voiceless from the torchlight did they go Into the darkness, and she, left alone, Set by the torches till the deed was done 1060 Within the pillars, and turned back again With eager eyes to gaze across the main, But nothing she beheld by that starlight But on the beach the line of breakers white, And here and there, above the unlit grey, Some white-topped billow dotting the dark bay. Then, sighing, did she turn herself around And looked down toward the plot of unused ground, Whereby they passed into that fateful place. And gazed thereon with steadfast wary face, 1070 And there the pavement, whitened by the wind, Betwixt the turf she saw, and nigh it, twined About a marble image carelessly, A white wild-rose, and the grey boundary Of wind-beat stone, through whose mihinged door Their stealthy feet had passed a while before. Nought else she saw for a long dreary hour. For all things lay asleep in bed or bower, Or in the little -lighted mountain caves, Or 'neath the swirling streams and toppling waves She trembled then, for in the eastern sky 1081 A change came, telling of the dawnuag nigh, And with swift footsteps she began to pace Betwixt the narrow limits of the place ; But as she turned round toward the close once more Her eyes beheld the pavement by the door Hid by some moving mass ; then joyfully She waved her white arms toward the murmuring sea. And listened trembling, and although the sound Of breakers that the sandy sea-beach ground 1090 Was loud in the still night, yet could she hear Sounds like the shuffling steps of those that bear Some heavy thing, and as she gazed, could see 1 055-1 13^ THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASOX 539 The thin bLack raiment of the sisters three Blown out, and falling backward as they bent Over some burden, and right slowly went ; And 'twixt their arms could she behold the gleam Of gold or gems, or silver-broidered seam, Till all was hidden by the undercroft. And then she heard them struggling bear aloft noo That dreadful burden, and then went to meet, With beating heart, their slow ascending feet, Taking a half-burnt torch within her hand. There by its light did she behold them stand Breathless upon the first stone of that fane. And with no word she beckoned them again To move on toward the terrace o'er the sea. And, turning, went before them silently. And so at last the body down they laid Close by the caldron, and Eradne said : — mo ' thou, our life and saviour ! linger not, We pray thee now ! because our hearts are hot To see our father look with other eyes Upon the sea, the green earth, and the skies, And praise us for this seeming impious deed.' Not heeding her, Medea saw the weed She erst beheld all glittering in the hall, And that same mantle as a funeral pall Which she had seen laid over either knee. The wonder of King ^son's treasmy, 1120 Which wise Phoenicians for much coined gold, And many oxen, years agone had sold To ^son, when folk called him king and lord. Then to the head she went, and with no word The white embroidered linen drew away Over the face of the dead man, that lay As though she doubted yet what thing it was. And saw indeed the face of Pelias. Then o'er her pale face a bright flush there came. And, turning, did she set the torches' flame 1130 Unto the dry brands of the well built pyre. And, standing back, and waving from the fire 540 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xv. 1133 The shuddering girls, somewhat thereon she cast, Like unto incense : then with furious blast Shot up a smokeless flame into the air, Quivering and red, nor then did she forbear To cry aloud, in her old Colchian tongue, Proud words, and passionate, that strangely rung Within the poor bewildered sisters' ears, Filling their hearts with vague and horrid fears. 1140 ' love ! ' she said, ' love ! sweet delight ! Hast thou begun to weep for me this night, Dost thou stretch out for me thy mighty hands — • The feared of all, the graspers of the lands ? Come then, O love, across the dark seas come, And triumph as a king in thine own home. While I, the doer of a happy deed. Shall sit beside thee in this wretched weed ; That folk may know me by thine eyes alone Still blessing me for all that I have done. 1150 Come, king, and sit upon thy father's seat. Come, conquering king, thy conqueror love to meet ! ' But as she said these words the luckless three Stared at her glowing face all helplessly. Nor to their father's corpse durst turn their eyes, While in their hearts did fearful thoughts arise. But now Medea, ceasing, fed the fire With that same incense, and the flame rose higher, A portent to the dwellers in the town. Unto the shepherd waking on the down, 1160 A terror telling of ill things to be. But from the God-built tower of Thessaly, Grey Pelion, did the centaur Cheiron gaze. And when he saw that ruddy flame outblaze. He smiled, and said : ' So comes to pass the word That in the forests of the north I heard. And in such wise shall love be foiled, and hate. And hope of gain, opposing steadfast fate.' So to the flowery eastern slopes he gat, Waiting the dawn, nor hoped for this or that. 1170 1147 a happy] this happy XVI. 32 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 541 BOOK XVI The landing of the heroes — Jason is made king in lolchos, and the Argonauts go to their own homes. But other watchers were there on that night, Who saw the birth of that desired light From nigh green CicjTiethus' woody shore. For in mid-channel there, with every oar Run out, and cable ready for the slip, Did Jason hold his glorious storm-tossed ship. While in the top did keen-eyed Lyiiceus stand, And every man had ready to his hand Sharp spear, and painted shield, and grinded sword. Thus as they waited, suddenly the word lo Rang out from Jason's mouth, and in the sea The cable splashed, and straight the MinyiB Unto their breasts the shaven ash-trees brought, And, as the quivering blades the water caught. Shouted for joy, and quickly passed the edge Of Cicynethus, green with reed and sedge. And whitening the dark waters of the bay, Unto lolchos did they take their way. Meanwhile the Colchian queen triumphantly Watched the grey dawn steal forth above the sea, 20 Still murmuring softly in the Colchian tongue. While o'er her head the flickering fire yet hung, And in the brazen caldron's lips did gleam ; Wherefrom went up a great white cloud of steam, To die above their heads in that fresh air. But Pelias' daughters, wTithing in despair. Silent for dread of her, she noted nought, Nor of the dead man laid thereby she thought At last came forward tall Amphinome, And said : ' Queen, look o'er the whitening sea, 30 And tell us now what thing it is we lack To bring our father's vanished breathing back 22 fire yet hung] fire hung 542 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvi With that new life, whereof thou spak'st to us.' So in a broken voice and piteous She spoke ; but when no answer came at all, Nor did Medea's grey eyes on her fall, She cried again : ' 0, art thou pitiless ? Wilt thou not note our measureless distress ? Wilt thou not finish that thou hast begun ? Lo, in a little while the piercing sun 40 Shall find us slayers of oiu* father here. Then if thou hast no pity, hast thou fear ? We are king's daughters still, and with us still Are men who heed nought but to do our will ; And if thou fall'st into the hands of these, Thou shalt lament the gloomy northern trees And painless death of threescore years and ten, And little shall thy beauty help thee then.' So cried she shrilly in her gathering ire ; But when Medea answered not, the fire 50 Burnt out within her heart, and on her knees She fell, and cried : ' O crown of Goddesses, Forgive these impious words, and answer me. Else shall I try if the green heaving sea Will hide from all these impious blood-stained hands, Or bear them far away to savage lands, That know no good or evil ; speak, speak ! How can I pray thee when all words are weak ? What gifts, what worship, shall we give to thee ? ' E'en as she spoke, Medea seemed to see 60 A twinkling light far off amidst the bay, Then from the suppliant hand she drew aAvay, Nor turned to her ; but looking seaward still. She cried : ' love ! yet shalt thou have thy fill Of wealth, and power, and much desired fame, Nor shall the Grecian folk forget my name Who dearly bought these for thee ; therefore come. And with the sun behold thy wished-for home.' So spoke she, and no less the wretched three Beheld that light grow greater o'er the sea, 70 And therewithal the grey dawn coming fast. And from them now well-nigh all hope had passed. 33-112 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 543 But fair Alcestis, grovelling on the ground, And crying out, cast both her arms around Medea's knees, and panting, and half-dead. Poured forth wild words, nor knew the words she said. While the two others, mad with their despair, Ran wailing through the pillars here and there. Nor knew indeed what thing had come on them, For now, at last, fair Argo's plunging stem 80 Medea saw in the still gathering light. And roimd about her the sea beaten white With steady oars ; then she looked down, and said : ' What ! art thou praying for the newly dead. For him who yesterday beheld the sun ? And dost thou think that I am such an one That what the Gods have unmade I can make ? Lo ! with the dead shall Pelias awake, And see such things as dead men's eyes may see.' Then as Alcestis, moaning wretchedly, 90 Fell back upon the pavement, thus she said : — ' Take comfort yet, and lift again thine head, foolish woman ! Dost thou think that fate Has yet been stopped by any love or hate. Or fear of death, or man's far-shouted fame ? And still doubt not that I, who have to name The wise Medea, in such w^ays as this Have long been struggling for a life of bliss 1 shall not gain ; and thus do all men do, And win such wages as have happed to J'ou. 100 ' Rise up and gaze at what the fates have WTOUght, And all the counsels they have brought to nought On this same morn. Hearken the dash of oars That never more ye thovight would brush these shores ; Behold the man stand on the high-raised prow That this dead man so surely dead did know. See how he raises in his conquering hand The guarded marvel of the Colchian land, This dead king deemed hid death and unkno"WTi woe. See how his folk ashore the grapnels throw ; — no And see, and see ! beneath the risen sun, How fair a day for tJiis land is begun. 544 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvi And let king Pelias rise if now he can, And stop the coming of the half -shod man ' E'en as she spoke, the keel had touched the sand, And catching up her raiment in her hand, She ran with speed, and gained the temple close, Made fragrant with that many-fiowered white rose, And o'er its daisied grass sped toward the beach ; But when her feet the wrinkled sand did reach, 120 There, nigh the ship, alone did Jason stand, Holding two spears within his ready hand ; And right and left he peered forth warily, As though he thought some looked -for thing to see. But when he saw her hurrying him to meet, With wild wind-tangled hair, and naked feet, And outstretched hands, and scanty raiment black. But for one moment did he start alDack, As if some guardian spirit of the land Had come upon him ; but the next, his hand 130 Had caught her slim wrist, and he shouted out : ' Ashore, O heroes ! and no more have doubt That all is well done we have wished were done ; By this my love, by this the glorious one. The saviour of my life, the Queen of Love, To whom alone of all who are above. Or on the earth, will I pour wine, or give The life of anything that once did live.' Then all men shouting, leapt forth on the sand, And stood about them, shield and spear in hand, 140 Rejoicing that their mighty task was done ; But as he saw the newly-risen sun Shine on the town, upon their left that lay, Then, smiling joyously, did Jason say : — ' heroes, tell me, is the day not won ? Look how the sun's rays now are stealing on, And soon will touch that temple's marble feet Where stood the king our parting keel to greet, 118 many-flowered white rose] many-flowered rose I 113-187 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 545 But the great golden image of the God Holds up, unlighted yet, his crystal rod, 150 And surely ere the noon shall gleam on it Upon my father's throne his son shall sit, Hedged round with spears of loyal men and true, And all be done that we went forth to do.' But, 'midst their shouting, spoke the queen again : — ' Jason, behold hereby this ancient fane — Amidst its pillars let the heroes go Until a marble stair they come unto. And thereby mount into a pillared place, At end whereof, upon an open space 160 Hung o'er the beach, that fire shall they see That lighted you to finish gloriously Your glorious journey ; and beside the fire There shall they find the slayer of thy sire. Who, soothly, shall not flee from them to-day, Nor curse the men who carry him away.' Then forth Menoetius and Nauphius stood, Lynceus the keen, and Apheus of the wood. To do the thing that she would have them do, While unto Argo did Medea go, 170 And for the last time scaled the sea-beat side ; There 'midst her silken curtains did she hide. And taking forth the fairest weed she had, In many a fragrant fold her body clad. And on her feet bound golden sandals fair. And set a golden garland on her hair. But when again she reached the shell-strewn sand She saw the shielded heroes wondering stand About the new-slain body of the king. Not knowing yet whose hands had wrought the tiling. For, scared amid their woe and misery, 181 By clash of arms, the wretched sisters three Were lurking yet within the undercroft. Amongst the close-set pillars, thinking oft That now the whole round world should be undone. But while they trembled, iEson's glorious son Bade men make onward toward the market-place, MORRIS If jl 546 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvi That there he might the wondering townsfolk face For war or peace whichever it might be ; But first upon a great oar carefully 190 They bound a spar crosswise, and hung thereon That guarded marvel that their arms had won, And as a banner bore it well aloft. And fair Medea, upon cushions soft, Laid upon spear-staves did they bear along, Hedged round with glittering spears and bucklers strong, And unarmed, fearless, mighty Jason led Their joyous march, next whom, the man just dead, The strong-armed heroes upon spear-shafts bore, With dark blue sea-cloaks deftly covered o'er. 200 So, following up the poor unkingly bier Of him who erst, for love of gain and fear, Had sent them forth to what he deemed their end. They through the palace courts began to wend, Not stayed of any, since the guards indeed Still slept, made heavy by the drowsy weed Eradne in their wine erewhile did steep. And other folk, just risen from their sleep, Looked from the windows 'mazed ; and like a dream The queen, enthroned on golden cloths did seem, 210 And like a dream the high-raised, glittering Fleece, And that new-slam long-hated pest of Greece. And some indeed there Avere who saw full well What wondrous tale there would be now to tell ; Who the glad setting forth did not forget, Unto whose eyes more fair, more glorious yet The heroes showed, than when the sunny bay First felt their keel upon a happy day. Then, crying out for joy, beheld the Fleece, And that fair Helper who had saved for Greece 220 The godlike heroes, and amidst of these Seemed not the least of heavenly Goddesses. Withal they reached at last the brazen gate Of iEson's house, outside of which did wait Men armed and shouting, for that daAvn a man None knew, a fisher on the water wan, 219 Then] They 188-265 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 547 From house to house among the folk had gone, Who said, that being in his own boat alone, Casting his nets a little time before The dawn, he heard the sound of many an oar, 230 And looking round, beheld a glittering prow That he for Argo's armed beak did know ; And as he gazed, her many-coloured side Dashed past him like a dream with flood of tide, As for the far-off ancient fane she made ; And that thereon his anchor straight he weighed. And made good haste the landing-place to gain. ' For certes,' said he, ' Pelias is slain, And we are free once more.' So saying, he passed From house to house, and reached the gates at last ; Nor any saw him more on land or sea, 241 And, certes, none but clear-voiced Mercury Spoke in that man by helpful Juno made, No body, soothly, but a hollow sfiade. Now, therefore, when the gates were open wide, Shouting, the folk drew back on either side. All wild with joy ; but when they did behold The high-raised Fleece of curling ruddy gold, And the glad heroes' mighty heads beneath, And throned Medea, with her golden wreath, 250 And folded hands, and chief est thing of all, The godlike man who went beside the pall, Whereon the body of their tyrant lay. Then did their voices fail them on that day. And many a man of weeping there was fain. At last did Jason set his foot again Upon the steps of that same ivory throne Where once he fronted Pelias all alone. And bare of friends : but now he turned about. And, 'mid the thunder of the people's shout, 260 Scarce heard his fellows' spears : and by his side There stood his gold-adorned Colchian bride. With glad tears glistening in her sweet grey eyes : And dead, at end of foiled treacheries, There lay his foe, the slayer of his kin. 228 his own boat] his boat Nn2 548 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvi Then did he clasp the hand that lay within His mighty and sword-hardened fingers brown, And cried aloud above the shouting town : — ' Tell me, O people of my father's land. Before whose ivory well-wrought throne I stand, 270 And whose fair-towered house mine eyes behold, Glittering with brazen pillars, rich with gold ? ' A while ago we sailed across the sea. To meet our deaths, if so the thing must be. And there had died, had not the kind Gods been, Who sent to us this lovely Colchian queen To be our helper : many a land we saw That knoweth neither tongue of' man, or law Of God or man : oft most things did we lack That most men have, as still we struggled back 280 Unto the soft Avind and the Grecian sea, Until this mom our keel triumphantly Furrowed the green waves of the well-known bay. There to yon palace did I take my way, As one who thought his father's face to see ; Yet landing on the green shore warily, (Since times may change, and friendship come to nought) To this dead man straightway my feet were brought, Whose face I knew, the face of Pelias. * Then still more warily thence did we pass, 29a Till we met folk who told us everything. Both of the slaying of the godlike king, iEson, my father, and of other folk, And how the whole land groaned beneath the yoke Of this dead man, whom sure the Gods have slain That all our labour might not be in vain. Nor we, safe passing through the deadly land, Lie slain in our own country at his hand. So have the Gods wTOught, therefore am I here, No shield upon mine arm, no glittering spear 300- In my right hand, but by my unarmed side This Colchian Queen, by many sorrows tried Therefore, no fear of you is in my heart. And if ye will, henceforth will I depart, 266-341 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 549 Nor take mine own ; or if it please this town To slay me, let them lay my dead corpse down, As on his tomb my father's image lies, Like what he was before these miseries Fell on his head. But in no wise will I Take seat beneath this golden canopy, 310 Before ye tell me, people of this land, Whose throne this is before the which I stand. Whose towered house this is mine eyes behold, Girt round with brazen pillars, bright with gold ' Then, ere he ceased, the people's shouts broke in Upon his speech : ' Most glorious of thy kin Be thou our king — be thou our king alone, That we may think the age of iron gone. And Saturn come with every peaceful thing : — Jason for king ! the Conqueror for king ! ' 320 Therewith the heroes clashed their spears and shields, And as within the many-flowered fresh fields This way and that the slim -stalked flowers do bend. When sweeping gusts the soft west wind doth send Among their hosts, so moved the people then. When ceased the shouting of the armed men. For each unto the other 'gan to speak. And o'er the tall men's heads some dame would seek To raise her child to look upon the king. And as with smiles and laughter many a thing 330 They chattered through the great square joyously, Each careless what his neighbour's words might be, It sounded like some February mead, Where thick the lustred starlings creep and feed. And each his own song sings unto his mate, Chiding the fickle sprmg so cold and late. But through the happy clamour of the folk. At Jason's bidding, the great trumpet broke. And great Echion's voice rang clear and strong, As he cried silence ; then across the throng. 340 Did Jason cry : ' O people, thanked be ye, 322 many-flowered fresh fields] many-flowered fields 323 flowers do bend] flov/ers bend 550 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvi That in such wise ye give yourselves to me. And now, friends, what more is there to say But this ? Be glad, and feast this happy day, Nor spend one coin of all your store for this ; Nor shall the altars of the high Gods miss Their due thankoffering : and She chief of all, Who caused that this same happy time should fall, Shall have a tithe of all that 'longs to me. ' And ye, O loved companions o'er the sea, 350 Come to my golden house, and let us feast, Nor let time weary us this night at least ; ! be so glad that this our happy day For all times past, all times to come may pay.' He ceased, and one more shout the people sent Up to the heavens, as he descending went With the fair Colchian through the joyous folk, From whose well-ordered lane at times there broke Some little child, thrust forward well to see The godlike leader of the Minyse : 360 Or here and there forth would some young man lean To gaze upon the beauty of the queen A little nearer, as they passed him by. Then, in such guise, they went triumphantly To all the temples of that city fair. And royal gifts they gave the great Gods there, But chiefest from the Queen of Heaven's close The clouds of incense in the air uprose, And chiefly thither were the white lambs led, And there the longest, Jason bowed the head 370 Well garlanded with lily flowers white. But She, when all these things were done aright. And Jason now had turned to go away, In midmost of that cloudless sunny day Bade Iris build her many-coloured bow, That She her favour to the king might show. Then still more did the royal man rejoice, And o'er the people, lifting up his voice, Cried : ' See, Thessalians, who is on my side, 345 of all your store] of your store 342-416 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 551 Nor fear ye now but plenty will abide 380 In your fair land, and all folk speak of it, From places whence the wavering swallows flit. That they may live with us the sweet half year. To earth where dwells the sluggish white-felled bear.' So spake he, glad past words ; and for the rest Did Juno love him well since his great quest Had brought home bitter death on Pelias, And his love's words had brought the .thing to pass, That o'er that head was hanging, since the day When from Sidero dead he turned away, 39° And as with Neleus down the steps he trod, Thought things that fitted some undying God, Thence to his father's tomb did Jason go, And found the old man's body laid alow, Within a lone, unkingly grave, and bade That straightway should a royal tomb be made To lay him in, anigh the murmuring sea, Where, celebrating their great victory, They might do honour to his head recrcwoied. And 'mid their shouts all mourning might be drowned, Nor would they gladden Pelias' lonely shade 401 By weeping o'er the slaughter he had made. Therefrom unto his own house Jason came. He had not entered since the night his name Rang 'twixt the marble walls triumphantly, And all folk set their hearts upon the sea. So, now again, when shadows 'gan to fall Still longer from the west, within that hall Once more the heroes sat above their wine, Once more they hearkened music nigh divine, 410 Once more the maidens' flower-scattering hands Seemed better prizes than well-peopled lands. Glorious and royal, now the deed was done. Seemed in that hall the face of every one Who, 'twixt the thin plank and the bubbling sea. Had pulled the smooth oar-handle past his knee. 384 earth] lands 401 Nor gladden the slain Pelias' lonely shade 552 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvi. 416 Tuneful each voice seemed as the heroes told The marvels that their eyes did erst behold, Unto some merchant of the goodly town, Or some rich man who on the thymy down 420 Fed store of sheep, and in whose lush green mead The heavy uddered cows were wont to feed. And she who all this world of joy had made. And dared so ma^^y things all unafraid. Now sat a Queen beside her crowned King And as his love increased with everything She did or said, forgot her happy state In Ma. of old times, ere mighty fate Brought Argo's side from out the dashers twain, Betwixt the rainbow and the briny rain. 430 Yet in the midst of her felicity She trembled lest another day should see Another fate, and other deeds for these, Who hailed her not the lea.st of Goddesses. Yet surely now, if never more again. Had she and all these folk forgotten pain, And idle words to them were Death and Fear ; For in the gathering evening could they hear The carols of the glad folk through the town, The song of birds within the garden drown ; 440 And when the golden sun had gone away, Still little darker was the night than day Without the windows of the goodly hall. But many an hour after the night did fall, Though outside, silence fell on man and beast, There still they sat, nor wearied of the feast ; Yea, ere they parted glimmering light had come From the far mountains, nigh the Colchian's home, And in the twilight birds began to wake. But the next morn, for slaughtered ^Eson's sake 45° The games began, with many a sacrifice. And, these being all accomplished, gifts of price The heroes took at Jason's open hands, 444 after the night] after night xvn. 15 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 553 And, going homewards, unto many lands They bore the story of their wandering. And now is Jason mighty lord and king, And wedded to the fairest queen on earth, And with no trouble now to break his mirth ; And, loved by all, lives happy, free from blame, Nor less has won the promised meed of fame. 460 So, having everything he once desired Within the wild, ere yet his heart was fired By Juno's word, he lives an en\ied man. Holding these things that scarce another can, Ease, love, and fame, and youth that knows no dread Of any horrors lurking far ahead Across the sunny, flowered fields of life : — — Youth seeing no end unto the joyous strife. And thus in happy days, and rest, and peace, Here ends the winning of the Golden Fleece. 47° BOOK XVII Jason at Corinth — The wedding of Glauce — The death of Jason. So ends the winning of the Golden Fleece, So ends the tale of that sweet rest and peace That unto Jason and his love befell ; Another story now my tongue must tell, And tremble in the telling. Would that I Had but some portion of that mastery That from the rose -hung lanes of woody Kent Through these five hundred years such songs have sent To us, who, meshed within this smoky net Of unrejoicing labour, love them yet. 10 And thou, Master ! — Yea, my Master still. Whatever feet have scaled Parnassus' hill, Since like thy measures, clear, and sweet, and strong, Thames' stream scarce fettered bore the bream along Unto the bastioned bridge, his only chain. 464 Holding] Having 554 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvn Master, pardon me, if yet in vain Thou art my Master, and I fail to bring Before men's eyes the image of the thing My heart is filled with : thou whose dreamy eyes Beheld the flush to Cressid's cheeks arise, 20 When Troilus rode up the praising street, As clearly as they saw thy townsmen meet Those who in vineyards of Poictou withstood The glittering horror of the steel-topped wood. Ten years have passed, since in the market-place The hero stood with flushed and conquering face, And life before him like one happy day ; But many an hour thereof has passed away In mingled trouble and felicity. And now at Corinth, kissed by either sea, 3° He dwells, not governed now or governing, Since there his kinsman Creon is a king. And with him still abides the Colchian, But little changed, since o'er the waters wan She gazed upon the mountains that she knew Still lessening as the plunging Argo flew Over the billows on the way to Greece. But in these ten sweet years of rest and peace Two fair man -children has she borne to him, Who, joyous, fair of face, and strong of limb, 40 Full oft shall hear the glorious story told Of Argo and the well-won Fleece of Gold, By some old mariner ; and oft shall go Where nigh the sea the wind-swept beech-trees grow, And with a grey old woman tending them, Shall make an ^a of some beech-tree's stem, About whose roots there stands the water black. Nor of the fleece shall they have any lack, For in the bushes hangs much tangled wool From wandering sheep who seek the shadow cool ; 5° And for the dragon shall there be thereby A many-coloured snake, with glazed dull eye, Slain by the shepherd ; so shall pass their days, 21 When] As i6-<)2 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 555 Whom folk look soon to gather wealth and praise. And 'midst these living things has Argo found A home here also ; on the spot of ground 'Twixt Neptune's temple and the eastern sea, She looks across the waves unceasingly ; And as their ridges draM- on toward the land, The wind tells stories of the kingly band. . 60 There, with the fixed and unused oars spread out She lies, amidst the ghosts of song and shout. And merry laughter, that were wont to fill Her well-built hollow, slowly dying still. Like all that glorious company of kings Who in her did such well-remembered things. But as the day comes round when o'er the seas She darted 'twixt the blue Symplegades, And when again she rushed across the bar, With King iEetes following her afar, ^o And when at length the heroes laid adown The well-worn oars at old King ^son's town, — When, year by year, these glorious days came round. Bright with gay garments was that spot of ground, And the grey rocks that o'ertop Cenchrese Sent echoes of sweet singing o'er the sea. For then the keel the maidens went about Singing the songs of Orpheus, and the shout Of rough- voiced sea-folk ended every song ; And then from stem to stern they hung along 80 Garlands of flowers, and all the oars did twine With garlands too, and cups of royal wine Cast o'er her stem ; and at the stern a maid. Clad like to Juno, on the tiller laid Her slender fingers, while anigh the stem Stood one with wings and many-coloured hem About her raiment, like the messenger Who bears the high Gods' dreadful words with her. And through the sea of old that stem did lead. Lo, in such wise they honoured that great deed, 90 But Jason,did they reverence as a God ; And though his kinsman bore the ivory rod 656 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvii And golden circlet, little could he do Unless the great Thessalian willed it too. Yet therefore Creon nowise bore him hate, But reverencing the wise decrees of fate, Still honoured him the more ; and therewith thought, Would that this man by some means might be brought To wed my daughter, since, when I am dead, By none but him the people shall be led. loo And on this thought he brooded more and more, And 'gan to hate the Colchian very sore, And through the place, as lightly he might do. He spread ill tales of false things and of true. And unto Jason's self such words did say As well he thought might turn his heart away From faith and truth ; and as such words will come, When wise men speak them, to a ready home. So here they did ; though soothly for his part, He knew it not, nor yet his restless heart. no But on a day it fell that as they sat In Creon' s porch, and talked of this or that. The king said unto Jason : ' Brave thou art. But hast thou never fear within thine heart Of what the Gods may do for Pelias ? ' ' Nay,' Jason said, ' let what will come to pass, - His day is past, and mine is flourishing, f But doubtless is an end to everything. And soon or late each man shall have his day.' Then said the king : ' Neither did thine hand slay The man thyself, or bring his death about ; 121 Each man shall bear his own sin without doubt. Yet do I bid thee watch and take good heed Of what the Colchian's treacheries may breed.' Then quickly Jason turned his head around And said : ' What is there dwelling above ground That loveth me as this one loveth me ? Creon ! I am honoured here as thee ; All do my will as if a God I were ; Scarce can the young men see me without fear, 130 The elders without tears of vain regret. , 107 words] oft 122 Each man shall] Let each man I 93-169 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 557 And, certes, had this worshipped head been set Upon some spike of King ^Eetes' house, But for her tender love and piteous, For me she gave up country, kin, and name, For me she risked tormenting and the flame, The anger of the Gods and curse of man ; For me she came across the waters wan Through many woes, and for my sake did go Alone, unarmed, to my most cru(?l foe, 140 Whom there she slew by his own daughters' hands. Making me king of all my father's lands : Note all these things, and tell me then to flee From that which threateneth her who loveth me.' ' Yea,' said the king, ' to make and to unmake Is her delight ; and certes for thy sake She did all this thou sayest, yea, and yet more. Seeing thee death -doomed on a foreign shore, With hardy heart, but helpless ; a king's son, But with thy thread of life well-nigh outrun ; 150 Therefore, I say, she did all this for thee, And ever on the way to Thessaly She taught thee all things needful since ye were As void of helpful knowledge as of fear. All this she did, and so was more than queen Of thee and thine : but thou— thine age is green, Nor wilt thou always dwell in this fair town. Nor through the wild wood hunt the quarry down — Bethink thee — of the world thou mayst be king. Holding the life and death of everything, 160 Nor will she love thee more, upon that day When all her part will be but to obey ; Nor will it then be fitting unto thee To have a rival in thy sovereignty Laid in thy bed, and sitting at thy board.' Now somewhat Jason reddened at that word, But said : ' Creon, let the thing be so ! She shall be high the while that I am low, And as the Gods in heaven rule over me, 147 and yet more] and more 153 Bade thee do this or that, since stiU ye were 558 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvii Since they are greater, in such wise shall she, 170 Who as they gave me life, has given me life, And glorious end to seeming hopeless strife.' Then Creon said : ' Yea, somewhat good it were If thou couldst lead that life, and have no fear.' Laughing he spoke ; but quickly changed his face, And with knit brows he rose up from his place, And with his hand on Jason's shoulder, said : — ' careless man, too full of hardihead ! thou ease-loving, little-thinking man, Whate'er thou doest, dread the Colchian ! 180 She will unmake thee yet, as she has made, And in a bloody grave shalt thou be laid.' Then turning, to his palace went the king, But Jason, left alone and pondering. Felt in his heart a vague and gnawing fear, Of unknown troubles slowly drawing near. And, spite of words, the thing that Creon said Touched in his heart that still increasing dread, And he was moved by that grave elder's face. For love was dying in the ten years' space. 190 But Creon, sitting in his chamber, thought, ' Surely I deem my hero may be brought To change his mate, for in his heart I see He wearies of his great felicity, Like fools, for whom fair heaven is not enough, Who long to stumble over forests rough With chance of death : yet no more will I say, But let the bright sun bring about the day.' Now such an one for daughter Creon had As maketh wise men fools, and young men mad, 200 Who yet in Corinth at this time was not, But dwelt afar upon a woody spot Anigh Cleonae ; whither oft before Had Jason gone for chasing of the boar With Creon and his folk ; and on a day With the old king again he took his way To that dark wood, whereto, about the noon, 190 the] that 192 deem] thmk 196 Who] And I 170-244 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 559 They came, well harbingered by thrvishes' tune, And there straight fell to hunting of the boar ; But, either through default of woodland lore, 210 Or bidden by the king, huntsmen and all The king's stout servants from the chase did fall, And Jason with him soon was left alone. And both saw that the day would soon be done, For 'midst the thick trees was it nigh twilight. Then Jason said : ' Surel}^ our bed to-night Will be beneath these creaking boughs and black.' ' Nay,' said the king, ' surely we shall not lack Soft golden beds such as old men desire. Nor on the hearth the crackling of the fire, 220 For hereby is a little house of mine Where dwells my daughter Glance, near the shrine Of round-armed Juno ; there, with two or three. Matrons or maids, she guardeth reverently The altar of the Goddess.' With that word Forward his jaded horse old Creon spurred. And Jason followed him ; and when the sun His burning course that day had well-nigh done, The king and Jason came anigh the place Where stood the house upon a swarded space 230 Amidst thick trees, that hedged it like a wall, Whose shadows now o'er half the place did fall, While, 'twixt their stems the low sun shoAved like fire. And in the east the still white moon rose higher. But midmost there a glittering roof of gold Slim shafts of pale blue marble did uphold. And under it, made by the art di\ine Of some dead man, before a well-wrought shrine, The Goddess stood, carved out of purest gold, That her fair altar thence she might behold, 240 And round that temple was a little close Shut by a gilded trellis of red rose From off the forest green-sward ; and from thence Carried by winds about the beech wood dense, 214 With that both saw that nigh the day was done, 237 made] wrought 569 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvii The scent of lilies rose up in the air, And store of pea-fowl was there roosting there, Or moving lazily across the grass. But from the temple did the two kings pass Unto a marble house that was thereby, Not great indeed, but builded cunningly, 250 And set about with carven images, Built in a close of slim young apple-trees ; A marble fountain was there nigh the door. And there the restless water trickled o'er A smooth-hewn basin coloured like a shell, And from the wet pink lip thereof it fell By many a thin streak into a square pool, From whence it ran again, the grass to cool. In a small stream o'er sand, and earth, and flint, Edged all about with fragrant blue-flowered mint, 260 Or hidden by the flat-leaved quivering sedge. But from the pool's smooth-wrought and outmost edge There went a marble step the fount to meet. Well worn by many a water-drawer's feet. And thereon now they saw a damsel stand, Holding the basin's lip with either hand. While at her feet a brazen ewer stood ; But when she heard them coming from the wood, She turned about, and, seeing men near by, Caught up the brazen vessel hastily, 270 And swiftly ran towards the marble house ; But Creon, in his voice imperious. Cried : ' Hither, Glauce, am I grown so old, That without fear thou canst no more behold Thy father, Creon ? Nay, come near, child, And bid us welcome to the forest wild.' Then straight she stopped, and setting down the urn, Unto her father and his guest did turn. While o'er his saddle-bow old Creon bent. Rejoicing in her beauty as she went ; 280 And for one moment every scheme forgat. For raising this thing and abasing that ; As well he might, for as in poor array She drew towards them at that end of day, 245-322 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 561 With raiment fluttering in the evening breeze, She seemed like Her, the cro\vn of Goddesses, Who, o'er the dark sea, at the sunset came To be in heaven a joy, on earth a flame. Blushing, she came to Creon's saddle-bow, And kissed him, who said, smiling : ' Fearest tfiou 290 Thy father, grown the oldest of old men ? How wilt thou look upon this stranger then, Who is no God, though such he seems to be. But Jason, leader of the Minyse ? ' Somewhat she started at the glorious name. And o'er her face deeper the red flush came. As she, with upraised face and shamefast eyes, Said : ' Welcome, winner of the guarded prize ! Good hap it is indeed that thou art come Unto my little -peopled woodland home. 300 Come then, my lords, to what awaits j^ou here ; Not Mseonean wine or dainty cheer Your lips shall taste, but of fair simple flowers. Plucked at the edges of the beechen bowers, Your drink shall savour, and your meat shall be Red-coated squirrels from the beechen tree.' Then fain to hide her eyes and blushing face, She turned from them, and at a gentle pace Unto the pillared porch she led the twain. There they, alighting, the dark house did gain, 310 And there they ate and drank, making such cheer As fasting men will do ; and still anear Was Glauce to them, telling every maid How such and such a thing should be arrayed ; And ever the Thessalian's eager eyes Did follow her, and to his heart did rise Vague feelings of a new-found happiness. But now as the round moon was growing less, And waxing brighter, and of fitting food The kings had eaten as they thought it good, 320 Then Creon said : ' daughter, rise and take This full cup to the hero for my sake, 302 Not spiced Mseotic wine or dainty cheer 304 This line was not in the first edition. 321 daughter, rise and] daughter, straightly MORRIS O O 562 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvn And bid him drink thereof, and tell thee all That unto him at ^a did befall, And what fate did as still he journeyed home.' Then unto Jason did the maiden come, Bearing the cup, and when he saw her thus, The lapse of time seemed strange and piteous ; For he bethought him of that other tide. When certain-seeming death he did abide 350 In King iEetes' hall ; and when she drew Anigh unto him, back the past years fle\\% And he became that man entrapped again, And newly felt, as then, that joyous pain, And in his hand as then the cup he took. With the warm fingers, and as then her look Sent fire thoughout his veins ; 3^ea, and as then He had no heed of any Gods or men. Therewith her musical sweet voice he heard, Speaking again the king her father's word : — 340 ' O Jason, if it please thee, tell me all That unto thee at ^a did befall, And what thou sawedst as thou journeydst home. And how it happed thee to thy land to come.' But ever as she spake she gazed at him, And with new thoughts her simple eyes did swim, Thinking her happy that this man had wed ; And therewithal she turned from pale to red. And red to pale. Then said he : ' Thou shalt laiow, O fair king's daughter, all I have to show,' 350 And so the story of the Fleece began, And how fair Argo crossed the water wan ; While from his glittering eyes, deep sunk with eld, The wily king those beauteous folk beheld. As still from Jason's lips poured forth the tale, And she sat listening, whiles with cheeks gro^\^l pale And parted lips, and whiles wdth downcast eyes And blushing for the thoughts that would arise Uncalled for ; and thus passed that eve away Till time of rest came. Then until the day, 360 In his fair silken bed did Jason dream 337 fire throughout] fire through 323-399 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 563 Of Argo struggling with the unknown stream, And all the wonders of their long-past quest, And well-known faces long time laid to rest. But when the night was past, and the great sun Another day for all things had begun, The kings, arising, unto Corinth rode. But ere they left the woodland fair abode, Unto the Goddess did they sacrifice. And on her altar in such woodland wise 370 As huntsmen use, their offerings did they lay. With them was Glauce on that dawn of day, Upon the left hand of the ancient king. Unto the reverend Goddess ministring. But when they turned once more unto the town. The half -quenched censer did she lay adown, And holding still the fresh-plucked flower-wreath, Bade them farewell Then by thick wood and heath They rode, and on their journey Jason said Few words and wandering ; for still that maid 380 Did he behold before his waking ej^es. And with the oft-recurring memories Of days and things a long time passed away Her image mixed, and words that she did say. But when upon the thi"eshold of his house He met Medea, who, with amorous And humble words, spoke to him greetings kind, He felt as he whose eyes the fire doth blind, That presently about his limbs shall twine. And in her face and calm grey eyes divine 390 He read his own destruction ; none the less In his false heart fair Glance's loveliness Seemed that which he had loved his whole life long, And little did he feel his old love's wrong. Alas for truth ! each day, yea, hour by hour. He longed once more to see the beechen bower. And her Avho dwelt thereby. Alas, alas ! Oft from his lips the hated words would pass : — ' wavering traitor, still unsatisfied ! 002 564 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvii O false betrayer of the love so tried ! 400 Fool ! to cast off the beauty that thou kiiowst, ; Clear-seeing wisdom, better than a host 1 Against thy foes, and truth and constancy i Thou wilt not know again whate'er shall be ! ' j So oft he spoke words that were words indeed, i And had no sting, nor would his changed heart heed j The very bitterest of them all, as he 1 Thought of his woodland fair divinity, 1 And of her upturned face, so wondering , At this or that oft-told unheeded thing. 410 ] Yet whiles, indeed, old memories had some power I Over his heart, in such an awful hour , As that, when darksome night is well-nigh done, 1 And earth is waiting silent for the sun ; ; Then would he turn about his mate to see, i From lips half open, breathing peacefully, j And open, listless, the fair fingers laid, I That unto him had brought such mighty aid. \ Then, groaning, from her would he turn away, j And wish he might not see another day, 420 j For certainly his wTetched soul he knew, i And of the cruel God his heart that drew. \ But when the bright day had come round again, / With noise of men, came foolish thoughts and vain, j And, feeding fond desire, would he burn ■ Unto Cleonae his swift steps to turn. ! Nor to these matters was the Colchian blind, { And though as yet his speech to her was kind, I Good heed she took of all his moody ways, ; And how he loved her not as in past days ; 430 And how he shrunk from her, yet knew it not, \ She noted, and the stammering words and hot, \ Wherewith, as she grew kinder, still he strove ' To hide from her the changing of his love. j Long time she tried to shut her eyes to this, ; Striving to save that fair abode of bliss ; I But so it might not be ; and day by day j She saw the happy time fade fast away ; \ And as she fell from out that happiness, 400-477 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 565 Again she grew to be the sorceress, 440 Worker of fearful things, as once she was. When what my tale has told she brought to pass. So, on a weary, hopeless day, she said : — ' Ah, poor Medea, art thou then betrayed By that thou trustedst ? Art thou brought to nought By that which erst, with wonders strangely wrought. Thou madest live through happy days and long ? Lo, now shall be avenged those poor maids' wrong, Who, in that temple o'er the murmuring sea, Ban maddening here and there ; and now shall be 450 That word accomplished that I uttered then. Nor yet believed — that to all earthly men. In spite of right and wrong, and love and hate. One day shall come the turn of luckless fate. Alas ! then I believed it not, when I Saw Argo's painted prow triumphantly Cleave the grey seas, and knew that I it was, My very self, who brought those things to pass, And lit those eyes unseen. How could I know Unto what cruel folly men will grow ? ' 460 She wept therewith — and once more on that night She stole abroad about the mirk midnight, Once more upon a wood's edge, from her feet She stripped her shoes and bared her shoulder sweet. Once more that night over the lingering fire She hung with sick heart famished of desire. Once more she turned back when her work was done ; Once more she fled the coming of the sun ; Once more she reached her dusky, glimmering room ; Once more she lighted up the dying gloom ; 470 Once more she lay adowii, and in sad sleep Her weary body and sick heart did steep. Alas ! no more did tender Love come down And smooth her troubled face of fear and frown ; No more with hope half -opened lips did smile. Not long she slept, but in a little while, Sighing, she rose, when now the sun was high, 466 of] with 566 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvn And, going to her wallet wearily, Took forth a phial thence, which she unstopped And a small driblet therefrom slowly dropped 480 Upon a shred of linen, which straightway In the sun's gleaming pathway did she lay ; \ But Avhen across it the first sunbeam came, '. Therefrom there burst a colourless bright flame, ; Which still burnt on when every shred was gone \ Of that which seemed to feed the flame alone ; i Nor burnt it less for water, that she threw ■ Across it and across. Thereon she drew ' A linen tunic from a brazen chest. Wherein lay hid the fairest and the best 49° \ Of all her raiment ; this she held, and said : — j ' Jason, thy love is fair by likelihead, j Pity it were to hide her over-much, ; And when this garment her fair limbs shall touch, j So will it hide them as the waters green ■ Hid Citheraea, when she first was seen.' Soothly she spoke, because the web was fair : And thin, and delicate beyond compare, j And had been woven in no common loom, ; For she herself within her fair-hung room 500 i Had set the warp and watched the fine weft glide \ Up from the roller, while from side to side, I Scarce seen, the shuttle flew from fingers thin i Of a dark Indian maid, whom gold did win ; From some Phoenician, that loved nought but gold. '< But sighing now the raiment to behold, ; She poured into a well-wrought bowl of brass : The thing that in the phial hidden was, ! And therein, fold by fold, the linen laid, ! Then for a little while her hands she stayed, 510 j Till it had drunk the moisture thoroughly ; ' Whereon she took it forth and laid it by, ; Far from the sunlight, on her royal bed, j Saying : ' thou who hast the hardihead, l Whoe'er thou art, to take from me mine own, j It had been better for thee that of stone I 516 It had been good for thee that of smooth stone , 478-555 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 567 Thy limbs were wrought, nor made to suffer pain, If this morn's deed has not been quite in vain.' So saying, did she mutter moodily, Watching the spread-out linen slowly dry ; 520 At last she took it and within a bright Fair silver casket hid it from the sight. This done, about the noble house she went, And bitterly full oft her eyes she bent On man and maid, and things grown old and dear, 'Midst hope of rest, no longer hoped for there. And, meantime, Jason, by the wily king Still watched, had little joy in anything. For while with fierce desire his heart still burned, Yet now again for rest and peace he yearned, 530 Nor praise of other men yet counted nought, And somewhat of the coming days he thought. And helpless eld with many memories Beset, and pictures of reproachful eyes ; Yet thinking of the chain of days and nights Stretched out all barren of once-hoped delights, A sorry thing life seemed to him to be. And one path only from that misery Seemed open to him — where the fair girl stood, Within the shadow of the beechen wood. 540 But while he wavered thus 'twixt love and fear, And something of the old time grown too dear To cast off lightly, Creon noted all, And surely now had hope that should befall He long had wished for, and in such wise wrought That all unto an ending soon be brought. Therefore it happed that on a July morn, Jason at last, by many troubles torn. Mounted his horse, and toward Cleonse turned. But as with pale face, and a heart that burned 550 To end all things in sweet love at the last, He by the palace of King Creon passed ; There Creon stood before the door, and said : — ' Where goest thou, O Jason ? By my head, Wilt thou not sit at our high feast to-day ? 568 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvn : What do'st thou then, upon the stony way j That leads to Argolis ? ' j KLing,' said he, 1 ' I am not meet for your solemnity, \ Because the Gods to-day have made me sad ; Nor knew I yet what feast here should be had, 560 j But thought to-day to see my arrows fly Within the green glades of the woods hereby.' ' Nay,' said the king ; ' full surely many a day Of summer will there be to play this play But on this day to Cithersea's house Folk go, both maids and young men amorous ; Yea, elders like to me will hold this feast, Who in their foolish hearts can mourn at least For days and things that never come again. Yet, for myself, I shall not feast in vain, 570 For on this day my daughter comes to me, That nigh Cleonse erewhile thou didst see. And she too goes with flower-bearing hands To kiss the foot that on the tortoise stands.' So saying, did his ancient wily eyes Behold the blood to Jason's brow arise. And inwardly he laughed ; but Jason said : — * Yea, then, O King, to chase my drearihead. This were a fair sight for mine eyes to see, And since thou wiliest, I will go with thee.' 580 Then 'lighting from his horse, beside the king He stood, and talked of this or that light thing, And saw meanwhile full many a broad-wheeled wain. Filled with fair flowers plucked from the unshorn plain, Go toward the temple of the Cj^Drian queen, And youths and maidens, wreathed about with green, Pass singing carols through the listening street. At last the king said : ' Come, and let us meet This joyous band within the very fane.' So forth they went, ai:id soon the place did gain, 590 Where the fair temple of the Goddess rose From 'midst a grassy apple-planted close. But each side of the door a maid there stood, 584 flowers plucked from] flowers from 556-630 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 569 ' Clad in thin silken raiment red as blood, Who had by her a gilded basket light, 1 Filled full of flowers woven for delight, /' Wherefroni unto the passing kings they gave Wreaths bound with gold, that somewhat they might have To offer to the dread divinity, Whose image, wrought of silver cunningly, 600 ^ Stood 'neath a canopy of gleaming gold Midmost the place, Avhere damsels fair did hold Baskets of flowers, or swung rich censers high ; Then to the precious shrine they drew anigh And forth stood Creon, and the fragrant wreath \ Laid on the altar, and beneath his breath Some prayer he muttered ; and next Jason laid His gift by Creon 's, but of much afraid. And hoping much, he made not any prayer j Unto the Goddess ; then amid the fair 610 j Slim pillars did he stand beside the king. Confused as in a dream, and wondering j How all would end. But as they waited thus, ' Within that fragrant place and amorous. Languid grew Jason with the roses' scent And with the incense -cloud that ever went | Unto the half -seen golden roof above. Amongst whose glimmering the grey-winged dove Hung crooning o'er his wrongs ; moreover there j The temple-damsels passed them, shy and fair, 620 i With white limbs shining thi'ough their thin attire. And amorous eyes, the hearts of men to fire. Beneath their heavy crowns of roses red ; j And veiled sweet voices through the place did shed ! Strange fitful music, telling more than words. Confused by twitter of the restless birds Within the temple-eaves, and by the doves, Who 'mid the pillars murmured of their loves. But when the pleasure of that temple fair Had sunk into his soul, upon the air 630 603 swung rich censers] swung censers i 615 roses' scent] flowers' scent j 570 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvn Was borne the sound of flutes from folk outside, And soon the greatest doors were opened wide, And all the rout of worshippers poured in, Clad in fair raiment, summer-like and thin, And holding wreaths, part twined of fragrant flowers — The children of the soft, sweet April showers — And part of blossoms wrought in ruddy gold. Now back the incense from the altar rolled At their incoming, driven by the wind, And round the pillars of the place it twined, 640 Enwrapping Jason, so that faint and dim The fair show of the maidens was to him, As each upon the altar laid adown The blossoms mingled with the golden crown, And prayed her prayer, then passed behind the shrine. At last from 'midst that cloud did Venus shine Before the eyes of the Thessalian, Who, with fixed eyes, and lips grown thin and wan, Stared at the image, little though he saw. But at her feet a sweet face, grave with awe, 650 Just bending over toward the silver feet. Which Glauce with a timid kiss did greet, And this being done, drew backward murmuring Her prayer to Venus : ' Goddess, a small thing Before this altar do I ask of thee, That I my hero and my love may see, That I ' — but therewithal her face she raised, And met his hungry eyes that on her gazed. And stopped all trembling, letting fall adown The hand that held the gold-enwoven crown. 660 Yet little anger Venus had therefore. But rather smiled to see her learn her lore Within her house upon her festal day. But now upon the altar did she lay Her offering, and yet she finished not Her prayer begun, though in her poor heart, hot With thoughts of love, full many a prayer she prayed. And now was all that pageant well arrayed To pass about the temple, and her place 644 blossoms] flowers 631-706 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 571 Did Glauce take with flushed and eager face ; 670 But on her finger did she loose a ring, Which that same day the wise Corinthian king Had given her, therewith she went along, Murmuring faint words amidst her fellows' song. Then past the kings the long procession swept, And somewhat from the pillars Jason stepped, Seeking a sign from that desired face ; And when the damsels at a gentle pace Went by him, and for fear of him and awe Shrunk back, and with their slender hands did draw Closer about them the thin fragrant weed ; 681 Still nought of all their beauty did he heed, But as the amorous army passed him by Into sweet Glance's eyes appealingly He gazed, who, trembling like some snow-trapped dove. From her soft eyes sent forth one look of love, I Then dropped the lids, as, blind with love and shame, ' Unto the place where stood the kings she came. And there her hand that down beside her hung i She raised a little, and her faltering tongue 690 I Just framed the words : ' love, for thee, for thee ! ' • And with that word she trembled piteously, In terror at the sound of her own voice. And much did wily Creon then rejoice, | Looking askance, and feigning to see nought, | When he beheld those hands together brought. \ But Jason, when those fingers touched his own, 1 Forgat all joys that he had ever known ; And when her hand left his hand with the ring, Still in the palm, like some lost, stricken thing 700 He stood and stared, as from his eyes she passed. And from that hour all fear away was cast, All memory of the past time, all regret For days that did those changed days beget, And therewithal adowai the wind he flung The love whereon his yearning heart once hung. 678 when] as 683 TJtis line was not in the first edition. 684 Into sweet Glauce's] But into Glauce's 685 He] Still 572 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvn Ah ! let me turn the page, nor chronicle In many words the death of faith, or tell Of meetings by the newly-risen moon, Of passionate silence 'midst the brown birds' tune, 710 Of wild tears wept within the noontide shade, Of wild vows spoken, that of old were made, For other ears, when, amidst other flowers, He wandered through the love-begetting hours. Suffice it, that unhappy was each day Which without speech from Glauce passed away. And troublous dreams would visit him at night. When day had passed all barren of her sight. And at the last, that Creon, the old king. Being prayed with gifts, and joyful of the thing, 720 Had given a day when these twain should be wed. Meanwhile, the once -loved sharer of his bed Knew all at last, and fierce tormenting fire Consumed her as the dreadful day drew nigher, And much from other lips than his she heard. Till, on a day, this dreadful, blighting word, Her eyes beheld within a fair scroll writ, And 'twixt her closed teeth still she muttered it : — ' Depart in peace ! and take great heaps of gold. For nevermore thy body will I fold 730 Within these arms. Let Gods wed Goddesses And sea-folk wed the women of the seas. And men wed women ; but thee, who can wed And dwell with thee without consuming dread, O wise kin of the dreadful sorceress ! And yet, perchance thy beauty still may bless Some man to whom the world seems small and poor, And who already stands beside his door. Armed for the conquest of all earthly things. ' Lo, such an one, the vanquisher of kings, 740 And equal to the Gods should be thy mate. But me, who for a peaceful end but wait, Desiring nought but love — canst thou love me ? Or can I give my whole heart up to thee ? ' I hear thee talk of old days thou didst know — 707-784 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 573 Are they not gone ? — wilt thou not let them go, Nor to their shadows still cling desiDerately, Longing for things that never more can be ? ' What! wilt thou blame me still that the times change ? Once through the oak-wood happy did I range, 750 And thought no ill ; but then came over me Madness, I know not why, and o'er the sea I needs must go in strife to win me fame. And certes won it, and my envied name Was borne with shouts about the towais of Greece. ' All that has vanished now, and my old peace, Through lapse of changing years, has come to me. Once more I seem the woodland paths to see, Tunes of old songs are ringing in mine ears, Heard long ago in that place free from fears, 760 Where no one wept above his fellow dead, And looked at death himself with little dread. The times are changed, with them is changed my heart, Nor in my life canst thou have any part. Nor can I live in joy and peace with thee, Nor yet, for all thy words, canst thou love me. ' Yet, is the world so narrow for us twain That all our life henceforth must be but vain ? Nay, for departing shaft thou be a queen Of some great world, fairer than I have seen, 77° And wheresoe'er thou goest shalt thou fare As one for whom the Gods have utmost care.' Yea, she knew all, yet when these words she read, She felt as though upon her bowed-down head Had fallen a misery not knoAvn before, And all seemed light that erst her crushed heart bore, For she was wrapped in uttermost despair, And motionless within the chamber fair She stood, as one struck dead and past all thought. But as she stood, a sound to her was brought 780 Of children's voices, and she 'gan to wail With tearless eyes, and, from writhed lips and pale, Faint words of woe she muttered, meaningless. But such as such lips utter none the less. 574 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvii Then all at once thoughts of some dreadful thing Back to her mind some memory seemed to bring, As she beheld the casket gleaming fair, Wherein was laid that she was wont to wear. That in the philtre lay that other morn. And therewithal unto her heart was borne 790 The image of two lovers, side by side. Then with a groan the fingers that did hide Her tortured face slowly she drew away, And going up to where her tablets lay, Fit for the white hands of the Goddesses, Therein she wrote such piteous words as these. ' Would God that Argo's brazen -banded mast 'Twixt the blue clashing rocks had never passed Unto the Colchian land ! Or would that I Had had such happy fortune as to die 800 Then, when I saw thee standing by the Fleece, Safe on the long-desired shore of Greece I Alas, O Jason ! for thy cruel praise ! Alas, for all the kindness of past days ! That to thy heart seems but a story told Which happed to other folk in times of old. But unto me, indeed, its memory Was bliss in happy hours, and now shall be Such misery as never tongue can tell. ' Jason, I heed thy cruel message well, 810 Nor will I stay to vex thee, nor will stay Until thy slaves thrust me thy love away. Be happy ! think that I have never been — Forget these eyes, that none the less have seen Thy hands take life at my hands, and thy heart Overflow in tears, when needs was we should part But for a little ; though, upon the day When I for evermore must go away, I think, indeed, thou wilt not weep for this ; Yea, if thou weepest then, some honied kiss 820 From other lips shall make thy grey eyes wet, Betwixt the words that bid thee to forget Thou ever hast loved aught but her alone. 1 S 785-862 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 575 ' Yet of all times mayst thou remember one, The second time that ever thou and I Had met alone together — mournfully The soft wind murmured on that happy night, The round moon, growing low, was large and bright, As on my father's marble house it gleamed. While from the fane a baneful light outstreamed, 830 Lighting the horror of that prodigy, The only fence betwixt whose wrath and thee Was this poor body. Ah ! thou knowest then How thou beheldst the shadows of thy men Steal silently towards Argo's painted head. Thou knowest yet the whispered words I said Upon that night — thou never canst forget That happy night of all nights. Ah ! and yet Why make I these long words, that thou the more Mayst hate me, who already hat'st me sore, 840 Since 'midst thy pleasure I am grown a pain. ' Be happy ! for thou shalt not hear again My voice, and with one word this scroll is done — Jason, I love thee, yea, love thee alone — God help me, therefore ! — and would God that I Such as thou sayst I am, were verily. Then what a sea of troubles shouldst thou feel Rise up against thy life, how shouldst thou steel Thy heart to bear all, failing at the last. Then wouldst thou raise thine head, o'erwhelmed, downcast, 850 And round about once more shouldst look for me, Who led thee o'er strange land and unknown sea. ' And not in vain. O dearest ! not in vain ! Would I not come and weep at all thy pain. That I myself had wrought ? would I not raise Thy burdened head Avith hopes of happy days ? Would I not draw thee forth from all thy woe ? And fearless by thy side would I not go, As once I went, through many unknowai lands When I had saved thee from my father's hands ? 860 ' All would I do, that I have done ere while. To have thy love once more, and feel thy smile, 576 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvii As freed from snow about the first spring days The meadows feel the young sun's fickle rays. ' But I am weak, and past all, nor will I Pray any more for kindly memory ; Yet shalt thou have one last gift more from me, To give thy new love, since men say that she Is fairer than all things man can behold. ' Within this casket lies in many a fold 870 Raiment that my forgotten limbs did press, When thou wert wont to praise their loveliness. Fear not to take it from the sorceress' hands, Though certainly with balms from many lands Is it made fragrant, wondrous with a charm To guard the wearer's body from all harm. ' Upon the morn that she shall make thee glad, With this fair tunic let her limbs be clad. But see that no sun falls upon its folds Until her hand the king, her father, holds, 880 To greet thine eyes : then, when in godlike light She shines, *vith all her beailty grown so bright, That eyes of men can scarcely gaze thereon — Then, when thy new desire at last is won — Then, wilt thou not a little think of me, Who saved thy life for this felicity ? ' She ceased, and moaning to herself she said : — ' Ah ! when Avill all be ended ? If the dead Have unto them some little memory left Of things that while they lived Fate from them reft. Ere life itself was reft from them at last, 891 Yet would to God these days at least were past, And all be done that here must needs be done ! ' Ah ! shall I, living underneath the sun, I wonder, wish for anything again. Or ever know what pleasure means, and pain ? — — And for these deeds I do ; and thou the first, woman, whose young beauty has so cursed My hapless life, at least I save thee this — The slow descent to misery from bliss, 9°° With bitter torment growing day by day, 863-939 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 577 And faint hope lessening till it fades away Into dull waiting for the certain blow. But thou, who nought of coming fate dost know, One overwhelming fear, one agony, And in a little minute shalt thou be Where thou wouldst be in threescore years at most, And surely but a poor gift thou hast lost. The new-made slave, the toiler on the sea, The once rich fallen into poverty, 910 In one hour knows more grief than thou canst know ; And many an one there is who fain would go And try their fortune in the unknown life If they could win some ending to this strife. Unlooked-for, sudden, as thine end shall be. Kindly I deal with thee, mine enemy ; Since swift forge tfulness to thee I send. But thou shalt die — his ej'es shall see thine end — Ah ! if thy death alone could end it all ! ' But ye — shall I behold you when leaves fall, 920 In some sad evening of the autumn-tide ? Or shall I have you sitting by my side Amidst the feast, so that folk stare and say, " Sure the grey wolf has seen the queen to-day." What ! when I kneel in temples of the Gods, Must I bethink me of the upturned sods. And hear a voice say : " Mother, wilt thou come And see us resting in our new-made home, Since thou wert used to make us lie full soft. Smoothing our pillows many a time and oft ? 930 mother, now no dainty food we need. Whereof thou once wert wont to have such heed. . O mother, now we need no gown of gold. Nor in the winter time do we grow cold ; Thy hands would bathe us when we were thine owii, Now doth the rain wash every shining bone. No pedagogue we need, for surely heaven Lies spread above us, with the planets seven, To teach us all its lore." 932 Whereof of old thou usedst to have such heed MORHIS p p 578 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvii j Ah ! day by day \ Would I have hearkened all the folk would say. 940 j Ah ! in the sweet beginning of your days ) Would I have garnered every word of praise. ' " What fearless backers of the untamed steed," i " What matchless spears, what loyal friends at need," ] " What noble hearts, how bountiful and free," ^ " How like their father on the troublous sea ! " i ' sons, with what sweet counsels and what tears '■ Would I have hearkened to the hopes and fears j Of your first loves : what rapture had it been ' Your dear returning footsteps to have seen 950 i Amidst the happy warriors of the land ; But now — but now — this is a little hand ■ Too often kissed since love did first begin ; To win such curses as it yet shall win, } When after all bad deeds there comes a worse ; j Praise to the Gods ! ye know not how to curse. ' ' But when in some dim land we meet again ■ Will ye remember all the loss and pain ? i Will ye the form of children keep for aye I With thoughts of men ? and " Mother," will ye say, ^ " Why didst thou slay us ere we came to know 961 « That men die ? hadst thou waited until now, j An easy thing it had been then to die, i For in the thought of immortality , Do children play about the flowery meads, ■ And win their heaven with a crown of weeds." ' children ! that I would have died to save, . How fair a life of pleasure might ye have, i But for your mother : — nay, for thee, for thee, | For thee who might'st have lived so happily ; 970 For thee, traitor ! who didst bring them here Into this cruel world, this lovely bier ; Of youth and love, and joy and happiness, !> That unforeseeing hajDpy fools still bless.' I Amid these wild words had the evening come Of the last day in that once happy home ; ♦So, rising, did she take the casket fair, '970 This line was not in the first edition,. 939-1015 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 579 And gave it to a faithful slave to bear. With all those wailing words that she had writ To Jason, her love once ; then did she sit 980 Within that chamber, with her heavy head Laid on her arms, and scarce more than the dead She moved, for many hours, until at last A stupor over her some kind God cast. So that she slept, and had forge tfulness A little while from fury and distress. But Jason, when he read that bitter word Was sore ashamed, and in his ears he heard Words that men durst not speak before his face ; Therewith, for very shame, that silver case 990 And what it held he sent unto his bride. And therewithal this word : ' Whatso betide, Let not the sun shine on it till the hour When thou hast left for aye thy maiden bower, And with the king thou standest in the hall, Then unto thee shall all good things befall.' So to his rest he went, but, sooth to say, He slept but little till the dawn of day. So troubled was his mind with many a thing. And in his ears long-spoken words did ring. 1000 ' Good speed, traitor ! who shall think to wed Soft limbs and white, and find thy royal bed Dripping with blood and burning up with fire.' So there, 'twixt fear and shame and strong desire, Sleepless he lay until the day began — The conqueror, the king, the envied man. But on the chamber where sweet Glauce lay Fair broke the dawning of that dreadful da}'^, And fairer from her bed did she arise. And looking down with shamefast timid eyes, loio Beheld the bosom that no man had seen. And round limbs worthy of the Sea-born Queen. With that she murmured words of joy and love. No louder than the grey, pink-footed dove. When at the dawn he first begins his tale, p p 2 580 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvii Not knowing if he means a song or wail. Then soon her maidens came, and every rite That was the due of that slim body white, They wrought with careful hands ; and last they took Medea's gift, and all the folds outshook, 1020 And in a cool room looking toward the north, They clad the queen therewith, nor brought her forth Till over all a gold cloak they had laid. Then to King Creon did they bring the maid, Rejoicing in the greatness of her love, Which well she thought no lapse of time could -move, And on the dais of the royal hall They waited till the hour should befall When Jason and his friends would bear her thence With gentle rape and tender violence, 1030 As then the manner was, and the old king Sat there beside her, glad at every thing. Meanwhile the people thronged in every way, Clad in gay weed, rejoicing for that day. Since that their lords had bidden them rejoice, And in the streets was many a jocund voice. That carolled to the honour of the twain Who on that day such blissful life should gain. But Jason set out from his pillared house, Clad in rich rannent, fair and amorous, 1040 Forgetful of the troubles of the night. Nor thinking more of that impending blight, Nor those ill words the harpies spoke of old. As with his fellows, glittering with gold, Towards Creon's palace did he take his way, To meet the bride that he should wed that day. But in the hall the pillars one by one Had barred the pathway of the travelling sun, As toward the west he turned, and now at last Upon the dais were his hot rays cast, 1050 As they within heard the glad minstrelsy Of Jason to his loved one drawing nigh. Then Creon took fair Glance by the hand. And round about her did her damsels stand, Making a ring 'gainst that sweet violence, IOI6-I094 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 581 That soon should bear their lovely mistress thence. While Glauce, trembling with her shamefast joy, With the gold mantle's clasp began to toy, Eager to cast that covering off, and feel The hero's mighty arms about her steal. 1060 Meanwhile, her lover through* the court had passed, And at the open door he stood at last, Amidst his friends, and looking thence, he saw The white arms of the damsels round her draw A wall soon to be broken ; but her face Over their flower-crowned heads made glad the place : Giddy with joy one moment did he gaze And saw his love her slender fingers raise Unto the mantle's clasp — the next the hall Was filled with darting flames from wall to wall, 1070 And bitter screams rang out, as here and there, Scorched, and with outspread arms, the damsels fair Rushed through the hall ; but swiftly Jason ran, Grown in one moment like an old worn man, Up to the dais, whence one bitter cry He heard, of one in utmost agony, Calling upon his once so helpful name ; But when unto the fiery place he came. Nought saw he but the flickering tongues of fire That up the wall were climbing high and higher ; 1080 And on the floor a heap of ashes white. The remnant of his once beloved delight, For whom his ancient love he cast away. And of her sire who brought about that day. Then he began to know what he had done, And madly through the palace did he run. Calling on Glauce, mingling with her name The name of her that brought him unto fame, Colchian Medea, who, for her reward. Had lonely life made terrible and hard, 1090 By love cast back, within her heart to grow To madness and the vengeance ^vTought out now ; But as about the burning place he ran. Full many a maid he met and pale-faced man. 582 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvii Wild with their terror, knowing not what end That which their eyes had seen might yet portend : But these sln-unk backward from his brandished sword, ^i And open shouting mouth, and frenzied word, ,■ As still from chamber unto chamber fair ) He rushed, scarce knowing what he sought for there, 1 Nor where he went, till his unresting feet noi ] Had borne him out at last into the street, : Where armed and unarmed people stood to gaze ] On Creon's palace that began to blaze i From every window out into the air, i With strange light making pale that noontide fair. j But they, bewildered sore, and timorous, I Gazed helplessly upon the burning house, '• And dreaded yet some hidden enemy, ; Thinking indeed a dreadful God to see, mo • Bearing a fresh destruction in his hand. \ But now, when Jason with his glittering brand i Broke in upon them from the growing fire, i With wild pale face, and half -burnt rich attire, ! They fell back shuddering as his face they knew, j Changed though it was, and soon a murmur grew : — i ' Death to the sorceress, the Colchian ! ' i But he, unheeding still, from 'midst them ran, i Until unto his own fair house he came, j Where gazed his folk upon the far-off flame, 1120 1 And muttered low for fear and woefulness. Then he knew not his own, but none the less, I Into the court he passed, and his bright sword i Cast down and said : ' What feeble, timid lord ' Hides here when all the world is on a blaze, And laughing, from their heaven the high Gods gaze ; At foolish men shut in the burning place ? ' With that he turned about his haggard face, ■ And stared upon his own fair-sculptured frieze, j Carved into likeness of the tumbling seas, 1130 i And Argo, and the heroes he had led, | And fair Medea. Then he cried, and said : — I ' Lo, how the Gods are mocking me with this, ' And show me pictures of my vanished bliss, i I095-II73 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 583 As though on earth I were, and not in hell ; And images of things I know full well Have set about me. Can I die again, And in some lower hell forget the pain My life is passed in now ? ' And with that word He cast his eyes upon his glittering sword, "40 And caught it up and set it to his breast, And in one moment had he been at rest i From all his troubles, when a woman old, His nurse in past times, did the deed behold. And ran and caught the hero's mighty hand, And hanging round about him did she stand. And cried : 'Ah, Jason ! ah, my lord, let be ! For who can give another life to thee ? And though to-day the very sun looks black, And wholesome air the whole world seems to lack, Yet shalt thou yet have wealth of happy days, "51 And well fulfilled desires, and all men's praise ; Unless the Gods have quite forgotten thee. O Jason ! my child ! come now with me. That I may give thee sweet forgetfulness A little while of sorrow and distress.' Then with the crone did Jason go along, And let her thin hand hold his fingers strong, As though a child he were in that old day, Ere in the centaur's woodland cave he lay. 1160 But through the house unto a distant room, Dark-hung, she brought him, where, amidst the gloom, Speechless he lay, when she had made him drink Some potion pressed from herbs plucked by the brink Of scarce-known lakes of Pontus ; then she said, As she beheld at last his weary head Sink on the pillow : ' Jason, rest thee now, And may some kind God smooth thy wrinkled brow. Behold to-morrow comes, and thou art young. Nor on one string are all life's jewels strung ; 1170 Thou shalt be great, and many a land shalt save; And of thy coming life more joy shalt have Than thou hast thought of yet.' 584 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvn He heard her words, But as the far-off murmur of the birds The townsman hears ere yet the morn is late. While streets are void and shut is every gate ; But still they soothed him, and he fell asleep, While at his feet good watch the crone did keep. But what a waking unto him shall be ! And what a load of shameful misery nSo His life shall bear ! His old love cast away, | His new love dead upon that fearful day, ^ Childless, dishonoured, must his days go by. - For in another chamber did there lie i. Two little helpless bodies side by side, _ J Smiling as though in sweet sleep they had died, -j And feared no ill. And she who thus had slain ] Those fruits of love, the folk saw not again, i Nor knew where she was gone ; yet she died not, ; But fleeing, somehow, from that fatal spot, 119° j She came to Athens, and there long did dwell, i Whose after life I list not here to tell. j But as for Jason ; — Creon now being slain, ! And Corinth kingless, every man was fain, i Remembering Jason's wisdom and sharp sword, i To have the hero for their king and lord. ; So on his weary brows they set the crown, | And he began to rule that noble town. | And 'midst all things, somewhat his misery ; Was dulled unto him, as the days went by. And he began again to cast his eyes On lovely things, and hope began to rise Once more within his heart. But on a day From out the goodly town he took his way, To where, beneath the cliffs of Cenchrese, Lay Argo, looking o'er the ridgy sea. Being fain once more to ponder o'er past days, Ere he should set his face to winning praise Among the shouts of men and clash of steel. But when he reached the well-remembered keel. 1200 1 173-1250 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 585 The sun was far upon his downward way, 1211 At afternoon of a bright summer day. Hot Avas it, and still o'er the long rank grass, Beneath the hull, a widening shade did pass ; And further off, the sunny daisied sward. The raised oars with their creeping shadows barred ; And grey shade from the hills of Cenchreae Began to move on toward the heaving sea. So Jason, lying in the shadow dark Cast by the stem, the warble of the lark, 1220 The chirrup of the cricket, well could hear ; And now and then the sound would come anear Of some hind shouting o'er his laden wain. But looking o'er the blue and heaving plain, Sailless it was, and beaten b^^ no oar, And on the yellow edges of the shore The ripple fell in murmur soft and low. As with wide-sweeping wings the gulls did go About the breakers crying plaintively. But Jason, looking out across the sea, 1230 Beheld the signs of wind a-drawing nigh, Gathering about the clear cold eastern sky, And many an evening then he thought upon Ere yet the quays of JEn they had won, And longings that had long been gathering Stirred in his heart, and now he felt the sting Of life within him, and at last he said : — ' Why should I move about as move the dead. And take no heed of what all men desire ? Once more I feel within my heart the fire 1240 That drave me forth unto the white-walled to-wii, Leaving the sunny slopes, and thick-leaved crown Of grey old Pelion, that alone I knew, Great deeds and wild, and desperate things to do. ' Ah ! the strange life of happiness and woe That I have led, since my young feet did go From that grey, peaceful, much-beloved abode. But now, indeed, will I cast off the load Of memory of vain hopes that came to nought, Of rapturous joys with biting sorrows bought. 1250 586 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON xvii The past is past, though I cannot forget Those days, with long life laid before me yet. ' Ah, but one moment, ere I turn the page, And leave regret to white hairs and to age. ' Once did I win a noble victory, I won a kingdom, and I cast it by For rest and peace, and rest and peace are gone. I had a fair love, that loved me alone, •! And made me that I am in all men's eyes ; ; And like my hard-earned kingdom, my fair prize, 1260 ■ I cast my tender heart, my Love away ; Yet failed I not to love, until a day, ; A day I nigh forget, took all from me ; That once I had. — And she is gone, yea, she \ Whose innocent sweet eyes and tender hands I Made me a mocking unto distant lands : | Alas, poor child ! yet is that as a dream, i And still my life a happy life I deem, : But ah ! so short, so short ! for I am left j Of love, of honour, and of joy bereft — 1270 : And yet not dead — ah, if I could but see , But once again her who delivered me j From death and many troubles, then no more I Would I turn backward from the shadowy shore, , And all my life would seem but perfect gain. ! ' Alas ! what hope is this ? is it in vain j I long to see her ? Lo, am I not young ? ] In many a song my past deeds have been sung, ! And these my hands that guided Argo through ; The blue Symplegades, still deeds may do. 1280 j For now the world has swerved from truth and right, Cumbered with monsters, empty of delight, And, 'midst all this, what honour I may win, | That she may know of and rejoiee therein, j And come to seek me, and upon my throne \ May find me sitting, worshipped, and alone^ ! Ah ! if it should be, how should I rejoice I To hear once more that once beloved voice 1264-7 In place of these the first edition had the single line: That once I had — yet is that as a dream, 1 251-1326 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 587 Rise through the burden of dull words, well-kiiown ; How should I clasp again my love, mine own, 1290 And set the crown upon her golden head, And with the eyes of lovers newly wed, How should we gaze each upon each again. ' hope not vain ! surely not quite vain ! For, with the next returning light will I Cast off my moody sorrow utterly, And once more live my life as in times past, And 'mid the chance of war the die will cast. ' And surely, whatso great deeds have been done, Since with my fellows the Gold Fleece I won, 1300 Still, here, some wild bull clears the frightened fields ; There, a great lion cleaves the sevenfold shields There, dwells some giant robber of the land ; There, whirls some woman-slayer's red right hand. Yea, what is this they speak of even now. That Theseus, having brought his conquering prow From lying Crete, unto the fairwalled toA^Ti, Now gathers folk, since there are coming doysm The shielded women of the Asian plain, Mjrriads past counting, in the hope to gain 13 10 The mastery of this lovely land of Greece ? So be it, surely shall I snatch fair peace From out the hand of war, and calm delight From the tumultuous horror of the fight.' So saying, gazing still across the sea Heavy with days and nights of misery. His eyes waxed dim, and calmer still he grew, Still pondering over times and things he knew, While now the sun had sunk behind the hill, And from a white-thorn nigh a thrush did fill 1320 The balmy air with echoing minstrelsy, And cool the night-wind blew across the sea. And round about the soft- winged bats did sweep. So 'midst all this at last he fell asleep, Nor did his eyes behold another day, For Argo, slowly rotting all away, 588 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON Had dropped a timber here, and there an oar, All through that year, but people of the shore Set all again in order as it fell. But now the stempost, that had carried well, 1330 The second rafter in King Pelias' hall. Began at last to quiver towards its fall, And whether loosed by some divinity, Or that the rising wind from off the sea Blew full upon it, surely I know not — But, when the day dawned, still on the same spot, Beneath the ruined stem did Jason lie Crushed, and all dead of him that here can die. What more ? — Some shepherd of the lone grey slope. Drawn to the sandy sea-beach by the hope 1340 Of trap23ing quick-eared rabbits, found him there, And running back, called from the vineyards fair, Vine-dressers and their mates who through the town Ere then had borne their well-filled baskets brown, These, looking on his dead face, straightway knew This was the king that all men kneeled unto, Who dwelt between the seas ; therefore they made A bier of white-thorn boughs, and thereon laid The dead man, straightening every drawn-up limb ; And, casting flowers and green leaves over him, 1350 They bore him unto Corinth, where the folk. When they knew all, into loud wailing broke, Calling him mighty hero, crown of kings. But him ere long to where the sea-wind sings O'er the grey hill-side did they bear again. And there, where he had hoped that hope in vain, They laid him in a marble tomb carved fair With histories of his mighty deeds ; and there Such games as once he loved yet being alive, They held for ten days, and withal did give 1360 Gifts to the Gods with many a sacrifice. But chiefest, among all the things of price, Argo they offered to the Deity Who shakes the hard earth with the rolling sea. And now is all that ancient story told Of him who won the guarded Fleece of Gold. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 1856-70 WINTER WEATHER 1 j We rode together ; In the winter weather j To the broad mead under the hill ; i Though the skies did shiver . ] With the cold, the river Ran, and was never still. | No cloud did darken The night ; we did hearken The hound's bark far away. It was solemn midnight lo In that dread, dread night, In the years that have pass'd for aye. Two rode beside me, i My banner did hide me, j As it droop'd adown from my lance ; With its deep blue trapping, The mail over-lapping, > My gallant horse did prance. So ever together In the sparkling weather 20 Moved my banner and lance ; And its laurel trapping, The steel over-lapping. The stars saw quiver and dance. We met together In the winter weather By the town-walls under the hill ; His mail-rings came, clinking, They broke on my thinking, For the night was hush'd and still.- 30 Two rode beside him, His banner did hide him, As it droop'd down strait from his lance ; With its blood-red trapping, The mail over -lapping, His mighty horse did prance. * Reprinted from The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, January 1856. J i 592 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS j » And ever together ^ In the solemn weather i Moved his banner and lance ; ] And the holly trapping, 4° ] The steel overlapping, ■ Did shimmer and shiver, and dance. Back reined the squires j Till they saw the spires I Over the city wall ; i Ten fathoms between us, j No dames could have seen us, j Tilt from the city wall. I There we sat upright Till the full midnight 5° j Should be told from the city chimes : ! Sharp from the towers ' i Leapt forth the showers Of the many clanging rhymes. i i 'Twas the midnight hour, ! Deep from the tower j Boom'd the following bell ; Down go our lances, i Shout for the lances ! I The last toll was his knell. 6o j There he lay, dying ; I He had, for his lying, A spear in his traitorous mouth ; A false tale made he ] Of my true, true lady ; ; But the spear went through his mouth. | In the winter weather i We rode back together , From the broad mead under the hill ; And the cock sung his warning 7° i As it grew toward morning, i But the far-o£E hound was still. : WINTER WEATHER 593 Black grew his tower As we rode down lower, Black from the barren hill ; And our horses strode Up the winding road To the gateway dim and still. At the gate of his tower, In the quiet hour, 80 We laid his body there ; But his helmet broken, We took as a token ; Shout for my lady fair ! We rode back together In the winter weather From the broad mead under the hill ; No cloud did darken The night ; we did hearken How the hound bay'd from the hill. 9° THE GOD OF THE POOR ^ ' Theee was a lord that hight Maltete, | Among great lords he was right great, j On poor folk trod he like the dirt, , | None but God might do him hurt. ^ Deus est Deus pauperum. I With a grace of prayers sung loud and late j Many a widow's house he ate, Many a poor knight at his hands Lost his house and narrow lands, Deus est Deus pauperum. 10 He burnt the harvests manj^ a time, \ He made fair houses heaps of lime ; Whatso man loved wife or maid Of Evil-head was sore afraid. Deus est Deus pauperum. ^ Reprinted from The Fortnightly Review, August 1868. MOEEIS Q q 594 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS He slew good men and spared the bad ; Too long a day the foul dog had, As all dogs will have their day ; But God is as strong as man, I say. Deus est Deus pauperum. 20 For a valiant knight, men called Boncoeur, Had hope he should not long endure, And gathered to him much good folk, Hardy hearts to break the yoke. Deus est Deus pauperum. But Boncoeur deemed it would be vain To strive his guarded house to gain ; Therefore, within a little while. He set himself to work by guile. Deus est Deus pauperum. 30 He knew that Maltete loved right well Red gold and heavy ; if from hell The devil had cried, ' Take this gold cup,' Down had he gone to fetch it up. Dezis est Deus pauperum. Twenty poor men's lives were nought To him, beside a ring well wrought. The pommel of his hunting-knife Was worth ten times a poor man's life. Detis est Deus pauperum. 4° A squire new-come from over sea Boncoeur called to him privily, And when he knew his lord's intent, Clad like a churl therefrom he went. Deus est Deus pauperum. But Avhen he came where dwelt Maltete, With few words did he pass the gate, For Maltete built him walls anew. And, wageless, folk from field he drew. Deus est Deus pauperum. 50 i THE GOD OF THE POOR 595 Now passed the squire through this and that, Till he came to where Sir Maltete sat, And over red wine wagged his beard. Then spoke the squire as one afeard. Deus est Deus pauperum, ' Lord, give me grace, for privily I have a little word for thee.' ' Speak out,' said Maltete, ' have no fear. For how can thy life to thee be dear ? ' Deus est Deus pauperum. 60 ' Such a one I know,' he said, ' Who hideth store of money red.' Maltete grinned at him cruelly. ' Thou florin-maker, come anigh. Deus est Deus pauperum. ' E'en such as thou once preached of gold. And showed me lies in books full old. Nought gat I but evil brass, Therefore came he to the worser pass. Deus est Deus pauperum. 70 * Hast thou will to see his skin ? I keep my heaviest marks therein, For since nought else of wealth had he, I deemed full well he owed it me.' Deus est Deus pauperum. Nought know I of philosophy,' The other said, ' nor do I lie. Before the moon begins to shine, Ma}' all this heaj) of gold be thine. Deus est Deus pauperum. 80 ' Ten leagues hence a man there is Who seemeth to know little bliss. And yet full many a pound of gold A dry well nigh his house doth hold. Deus est Deus pauperum. Q q 2 598 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS i i ' John-a-Wood is he called, fair lord, i Nor know I whence he hath this hoard.' \ Then Maltete said, ' As God made me, j A wizard over-bold is he ! ; Deus est Deus pauperum. 90 ' It were a good deed, as I am a knight, To burn him in a fire bright ; ' This John-a-Wood shall surely die, : And his gold in my strong chest shall lie. | Deus est Deus pauperum. ; i ' This very night I make mine avow, ] The truth of this mine eyes shall know. J Then spoke an old knight in the hall, j ' Who knoweth what things may befall ? | Deus est Deus pauperum. 100 - ' I rede thee go with a great rout. For thy foes ride right thick about.' f ' Thou and the devil may keep my foes, 4 Thou redest me this gold to lose. f Deus est Deus pauperum. | ' I shall go but with some four or five, j So shall I take my thief alive. || For if a great rout he shall see. Will he not hide his wealth from me ? ' Deus est Deus pauperum. no The old knight muttered under his breath, ' Then mayhaj) ye shall ride to death.' But Maltete turned him quickly round, ' Bind me this grey-beard under ground ! Deu^ est Deus pauperum. ' Because ye are old, ye think to jape. Take heed, ye shall not long escape. When I come back safe, old carle, perdie, Thine head shall brush the linden-tree.' Deus est Deus paupermn. 120 THE GOD OF THE POOR 597 Therewith he rode with his five men, And Boncoeur's s])y, for good leagues ten, Until they left the beaten way, And dusk it grew at end of day. Deus est Deus pauperum. There, in a clearing of the wood, Was John's house, neither fair nor good. In a ragged plot anigh, Thin coleworts grew but wretchedly. Deus est Deus pauperum. 130 John-a-Wood in his doorway sat. Turning over this and that, And chiefly how he best might thrive. For he had will enough to live. Deus est Deus pauperum. Green coleworts from a wooden bowl He ate ; but careful was his soul. For if he saw another day. Thenceforth was he in Boncoeur's pay. Deus est Deus pauperum. 140 So when he saw how Maltete came, He said, ' Beginneth now the game ! ' And in the doorway did he stand TrembUng, with hand joined fast to hand. Deus est Deus pauperum. When Maltete did this carle behold Somewhat he doubted of his gold, But cried out, ' Where is now thy store Thou hast through books of wicked lore ? ' Deus est Deus pauperum. 150 Then said the poor man, right humbly, ' Fair lord, this was not made by me, I found it in mine own dry well, And had a mind thy grace to tell. Deus est Deus pauperum. 598 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS ' Therefrom, my lord, a cup I took Tliis day ; that thou thereon might look, And know me to be leal and true,' And from his coat the cup he drew. Deus est Deus pauperum. ifo Then Maltete took it in his hand, Nor knew he aught that it used to stand On Boncceur's cupboard many a day. ' Go on,' he said, ' and show the way. Deus est Deus pauperum. ' Give me thy gold, and thou shalt live, Yea, in my house thou well may'st thrive.' John turned about, and 'gan to go Unto the wood with footsteps slow. Deus est Deus pauperum. 170 But as they passed by John's woodstack, Growled Maltete, ' Nothing now doth lack Wherewith to light a merry fire. And give my wizard all his hire.' Deus est Deus pauperum. The western sky was red as blood. Darker grew the oaken-wood ; ' Thief and carle, where are ye gone ? Why are we in the w^ood alone ? Deus est Deus pauperum. 180 ' What is the sound of this mighty horn ? — ^Ah, God ! that ever I was born ! The basnets flash from tree to tree ; Show me, thou Christ, the w^ay to flee ! ' Deus est Deus pauperum. Boncoeur it was, wdth fifty men, Maltete was but one to ten. And his own folk prayed for grace. With empty hands in that lone place. Deus est Deus pauperum. 190 THE GOD OF THE POOR 599 ' Grace shall ye have,' Boncoeur said, ' All of you but Evil-head.' Lowly could that great lord be. Who could pray so well as he ? Deus est Deus pauper um. Then could Maltete howl and cry, Little will he had to die. Soft was his speech, now it was late, But who had will to save Maltete ? Deus est Deus pauper um. 200 They brought liim to the house again, And toward the road he looked in vain. Lonely and bare was the great highway, 'Neath the gathering moonlight grey. Deus est Deus pauperum. They took off his gilt basnet. That he should die there was no let ; They took off his coat of steel, A damned man he well might feel. Deus est Deus pauperum. 210 ' Will ye all be rich as kings. Lacking nought of all good things ? ' ' Nothing do we lack this eve ; When thou art dead, how can we grieve ? ' Deus est Deus pauperum. ' Let me drink water ere I die, None henceforth comes my hps anigh.' They brought it him in that bowl of wood. He said ' This is but poor men's blood ! ' Deu^ est Deus pauperum. 220 They brought it liim in the cup of gold. He said ' The women I have sold Have wept it full of salt for me ; I shall die gaping thirstily.' Deus est Deus pauperum. 600 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS On the threshold of that poor homestead They smote off his Evil-head ; They set it high on a great spear, And rode away with merry cheer. Deus est Deus pauper um. 230 At the dawn, in lordly state, Thej^ rode to Maltete's castle-gate. ' Whoso willeth laud to win, Make haste to let your masters in ! ' Deus est Deus pauper um. Forthwith opened they the gate, No man was sorry for Maltete. Boncoeur conquered all his lands, A good knight was he of his hands. Deus est Deus pauperum. 240 Good men he loved, and hated bad ; Joj^ul days and sweet he had ; Good deeds did he plenteously ; Beneath him folk lived frank and free. Deus est Deus pauperum. He lived long, with merry days ; None said aught of him but praise. God on him have full mercy ; A good laiight merciful was he. Deus est Deus pauperum. 250 The great lord, called Maltete, is dead ; Grass grows above his feet and head, And a holly-bush grows up between His rib-bones, gotten white and clean. Deus est Deus pauperum. A carle's sheep-dog certainly Is a mightier thing than he. Till London-Bridge shall cross the Nen, Take we heed of such-like men. Deus est Deus pauperum. 260 601 THE TWO SIDES OF THE RIVER ^ The Youths. Winter, O white winter, wert thou gone No more witliin the wilds were I alOne, Leaping with bent bow ever stock and stone ; No more alone my love the lamp should burn, Watcliing the weary spindle twist and turn, Or o'er the web hold back her tears and yearn. winter, white winter, wert thou gone ! The Maidens. Sweet thoughts fly swiftHer than the drifting snow, And with the twisting thread sweet longings grow. And o'er the, web sweet pictures come and go ; lo For no white winter are we long alone. The Youths. stream, so changed, what hast thou done to me, That I thy glittering ford no more can see Wreathing with white her fair feet lovingly ? See in the rain she stands ; and, looking do\^'n With frightened eyes upon thy whirlpools brown. Drops to her feet again her girded gown. hurrying, turbid stream, Avhat hast thou done ? The Maidens. The clouds lift, telhng of a fairer day. When through the thin stream I shall take my way, 20 Girt round with gold, and garlanded with may. What rushing stream can keep us long alone ? The Youths. burning Sun ! master of unrest ! Why must we, toiling, cast away the best. Now when the bird sleeps by his empty nest ? 1 Reprinted from The Fortnightly Review, October 1868. 602 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS j ■ i See, with my garland lying at her feet, \ In lonely labour stands mine own, my sweet, Above the quern, half-filled with half-ground wheat. red task-master, that thy flames were done ! . The Maidens. I love, to-night across the half-shorn plain, 30 | Shall I not go to meet the yellow wain, i A look of love at end of toil to gain ? I What flaming svm can keep us long alone ? | The Youths. To-morrow, said I, is grape -gathering o'er ; \ To-morrow and our loves are twinned no more. i To-morrow came, to bring us woe and war. \ What have I done, that I should stand with these, \ Hearkening the dread shouts borne upon the breeze, 1 While she, far off, sits weeping 'neath her trees ? ' Alas ! lungs, what is it ye have done ? 40 j The Maidens. \ Come love, delay not, come and slay my dread ; Already is the banquet-table spread, ; In the cool chamber flower-strewn is my bed. j Come, love ; what king can keep us long alone ? \ The Youths. \ city, city, open thou thy gate ; ; See with life snatched from out the hand of fate, > Still on this ghttering triumph must I wait. \ Are not her hands stretched out to me ? her eyes, 1 Are they not weary as each new hope dies, ; And lone before her still the long road hes ? 50 golden city, fain Avould I be gone ! I The Maidens. \ Ah ! thou art happy amid shouts and songs, 1 And all that unto conquering men belongs ; Night hath for me no fear, and day no wrongs. 3 What brazen city-gates can keep us lone ? THE TWO SIDES OF THE RIVER COS The Youths. long, long road, how bare thou art, and grey ; Hill after hill thon climbest, and the day Is ended now, O moonlit endless way ! And she is standing where the rushes grow, And still with white hand shades her anxious brow, 60 Though 'neath the world the sun has fallen now. dreary road, when will thy leagues be done ? The Maidens. O tremblest thou, grey road, or do my feet Tremble with joy thy fhnty face to meet Because my love's eyes soon mine eyes shall greet ? No heart thou hast to keep us long alone. The Youths. wilt thou ne'er depart, thou heavy night ? When will thy slaying bring on the morning bright, That leads my weary feet to my delight ? Why lingerest thou, filhng with wandering fears 70 My lone love's tired heart ; her eyes with tears. For thoughts like sorrow for the vanished years ? Weaver of ill thoughts, when wilt thou begone ? The Maidens. Love, to the East are thine eyes turned, as mine, In patient watching for the night's decline ? And hast thou noted this grey widening hne ? Can any darkness keep us long alone ? The Youths. day ! day ! is this a little thing That thou so long unto thy hfe must cling Because I gave thee such a welcoming ? 80 1 called thee king of all felicity, I praised thee that thou broughtest joy so nigh — Thine hours are turned to years ; thou wilt not die. day so longed for, would that thou wert gone ! 604 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS The Maidens. The light fails, love ; the long day soon shall be Nought but a pensive, happy memory. Blessed for the tales it told to thee and me. How hard it was, O love, to be alone. ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS i • PuellcB. Whence comest thou, and whither goest thou ? Abide, abide ! longer the shadows grow ; What hopest thou the dark to thee will show ? Abide, abide ! for we are happy here. Amans. Why should I name the land across the sea Wherein I first took hold on misery ? Why should I name the land that flees from me ? Let me depart since ye are happy here. Puellce. What wilt thou do within the desert place Whereto thou turnest now thy careful face ? lo Stay but a while to tell us of thy case. Abide, abide ! for we are happy here. Amans. What, nigh the journey's end shall I abide. When in the waste mine own love wanders wide, When from all men for me she still doth hide ? Let me depart, since ye are happy here. Puellce. Nay, nay ; but rather she forgetteth thee, To sit upon the shore of some warm sea, Or in green gardens where sweet fountains be. Abide, abide ! for we are happy here. 20 ^ Reprinted from The Fortnightly Review, April 1869. ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 605 Amans. Will ye then keep me from the wilderness, Where I at least, alone with my distress, The quiet land of changing dreams may bless ? Let me depart, since ye are happy here. Puellce. Forget the false forgetter, and be wise, And 'mid these chnging hands and loving eyes, Dream not in vain thou knowest paradise. Abide, abide ! for we are happy here. Amans. Ah ! with your sweet eyes shorten not the day, Nor let your gentle hands my journey stay ! 30 Perchance love is not wholly cast away. Let me depart, since ye are happy here. Puellce. Pluck love away, as thou wouldst pluck a thorn From out thy flesh ; for why shouldst thou be born To bear a life so wasted and forlorn ? Abide, abide ! for we are happy here. Amans. Yea, why then was I born, since hope is pain, And life a lingering death, and faith but vain, And love the loss of all I seemed to gain ? Let me depart, since ye are happy here. 40 Puellce. Dost thou beheve that this shall ever be. That in our land no face thou e'er shalt see, No voice thou e'er shalt hear -to gladden thee ? Abide, abide ! for we are happy here. 608 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS | Aynans. I No longer do I know of good or bad, > I have forgotten that I once was glad l I do but chase a dream that I have had. ! Let me depart, since ye are happy here, • \ Puellce. [ Stay ! take one image for thy dreamful night ; I Come look at her, who in the world's despite 50 i Weeps for delaying love and lost deUght. 1 Abide, abide ! for we are happy here. | Amans. Mock me not till to-morrow. Mock the dead — They will not heed it, or turn round the head. To note who faithless are, and who are wed. Let me depart, since ye are happy here. Puellce. We mock thee not. Hast thou not heard of those Whose faithful love the loved heart holds so close, That death must wait till one word lets it loose. Abide, abide ! for we are happy here. 60 Amans. I hear you not : the wind from off the waste Sighs like a song that bids me make good haste The wave of sweet forgetfulness to taste. Let me depart, since ye are happy here. PuellcB. Come back ! like such a singer is the wind. As to a sad tune sings fair words and kind, That he with happy tears all eyes may bhnd. Abide, abide ! for we are happy here. ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 607 Amans. Did I not hear her sweet voice cry from far, That o'er the lonely waste fair fields there are, 70 Fair days that know not any change or care ? Let me depart, since ye are happy here. PiiellcB. Oh no, not far thou heardest her, but nigh — Nigh, 'twixt the waste's edge and the darkling sky. Turn back again, too soon it is to die. Abide ! a little while be happy here. Amans. How with the lapse of lone years could I strive, And can I die now that thou biddest hve ? What joy this space 'twixt birth and death can give. Can we depart, who are so happy here ? ^o HAPLESS LOVEi Hie. Why do you sadly go alone, O fair friend ? Are your pigeons fio\\Ti, Or has the thunder killed your bees. Or he-goats barked your apple-trees ? Or has the red-eared bull gone mad. Or the mead turned from good to bad ? Or did you find the merchant lied About the gaj^ cloth scarlet-dyed ? And did he sell you brass for gold, Or is there murrain in the fold ? 10 Ille. Nay, no such thing has come to me. In bird and beast and field and tree. And all the things that make my store, Am I as rich as e'er before ; ^ Reprinted from Good Words, April 1869. 608 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS And no beguilers have I known j But Love and Death ; and Love is gone. ' j Therefore am I far more than sad, ' And no more know good things from bad. i Hie. i Woe worth the while ! Yet coming days . May bring another, good to praise. 20 | Ille. ' Nay, never will I love again, j For loving is but joyful pain : If all be at its very best ; i A rose-hung bower of all unrest ; I But when at last things go awry, What tongue can tell its misery ? i And soon or late shall this befall — \ The gods send death upon us all. ! Hie. j Nay, then, but tell me how she died, j And how it did to thee betide 3° ! To love her ; for the wise men say j To talk of grief drives grief away. i Ille. i Alas, friend, it happed to me | To see her passing daintily Before my homestead day by day. ' Would she had gone some other way ! '> For one day, as she rested there 1 Beneath the long-leaved chestnuts fair, I In very midst of mid-day heat, 1 I cast myself before her feet, 4° | And prayed for pity and for love. 5 How could I dream that words could move A woman ? Soft she looked at me ; i ' Thou sayest that I a queen should be,' j She answered with a gathering smile ; j ' Well, I will wait a little while, Perchance the gods thy will have heard.' j 1 1 i HAPLESS LOVE 609 And even with that latest word, The clash of arms we heard anigh ; And from the wood rode presently 50 A fair knight well apparelled. And even as she turned her head, He shortened rein, and cried aloud — ' beautiful, among the crowd Of queens thou art the queen of all ! ' But when she let her eyelids fall, And blushed for pleasure, and for shame, Then quickly to her feet he came. And said, ' Thou shalt be queen indeed ; For many a man this day shall bleed 60 Because of me, and leave me king Ere noontide fall to evening.' Then on his horse he set the maid Before him, and no word she said Clear unto me, but murmuring Beneath her breath some gentle thing, She clung unto him lovingly ; Nor took they any heed of me. Through shade and sunlight on they rode, But 'neath the green boughs I abode, 70 Nor noted aught that might betide. The sun waned, and the shade spread wide ; The birds came twittering over head ; But there I lay as one long dead. But ere the sunset, came a rout Of men-at-arms with song and shout, And bands of lusty archers tall. And spearmen marching hke a wall, Their banners hanging heavily, That no man might their blazon see ; 80 And ere their last noise died away, I heard the clamour of the fray MOKRIS ^ j> 610 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS That swelled, and died, and rose again ; Yet still I brooded o'er my pain Until the red sun nigh was set, And then methought I e'en might get The rest I sought, nor wake forlorn Midst fellow men the morrow morn ; So forth I went unto the field, One man without a sword or shield. 90 But none was there to give me rest, Tried was it who was worst and best, And slain men lay on every side ; For flight and chase were turned aside, And all men got on toward the sea ; But as I went right heavily I saw how close beside the way Over a knight a woman laj'^ Lamenting, and I knew in sooth My love, and drew a-near for ruth. io:> There lay the knight who would be king Dead slain before the evening. And ever my love cried out and said, ' O sweet, in one hour art thou dead And I am but a maiden still ! The gods this day have had their will Of thee and me ; whom all these years They kept apart ; that now with tears And blood and bitter misery Our parting and our death might be.' no Then did she rise and look around. And took his drawn sword from the ground And on its bitter point she fell — No more, no more, O friend, to tell ! No more about my life, friend ! One course it shall have to the end. O Love, come from the shadowy shore. And by my homestead as before, Go by with sunlight an thy feet ! Come back, if but to mock me, sweet ! 120 HAPLESS LOVE 611 Hie. fool ! what love of thine was this, Who never gave thee any kiss, Nor would have wept if thou hadst died ? Go now, behold the world is wide. Soon shalt thou find some dainty maid To sit with in thy chestnut shade, To rear fair children up for thee, As those few days pass silently. Uncounted, that may yet remain 'Twixt thee and that last certain pain. 130 Ille. Art thou a God ? Nay, if thou wert, Wouldst thou belike know of my hurt, And what might sting and what might heal ? The world goes by 'twixt woe and weal And heeds me not ; I sit apart Amid old memories. To my heart My love and sorrow must I press ; It knoweth its own bitterness. PREFATORY SONNET TO * THE STORY OF GRETTIR THE STRONG ' (1869) A LIFE scarce worth the living, a poor fame Scarce worth the winning, in a wretched land. Where fear and pain go upon either hand. As toward the end men fare without an aim Unto the dull grey dark from whence they came : Let them alone, the unshadowed sheer rocks stand Over the twilight graves of that poor band, Who count so little in the great world's game ! Nay, with the dead I deal not ; this man hves, And that which carried him through good and ill, Stern against fate while his voice echoed still From rock to rock, now he lies silent, strives With wasting time, and through its long lapse gives Another friend to me, life's void to fill. R r 2 612 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS A PROLOGUE IN VERSE (to the Volsunga Saga, 1870) HEARKEN, ye who speak the English Tongue, How in a waste land ages long ago, The very heart of the North bloomed into song After long brooding o'er this tale of woe ! Hearken, and marvel how it might be so. That such a sweetness so well crowned could be Betwixt the ice-hills and the cold grey sea. Or rather marvel not, that those should cling JJnto the thoughts of great lives passed away, Whom God has stripped so bare of everything, lo Save the one longing to wear through their day, In fearless wise ; the hope the Gods to staj^. When at that last tide gathered wrong and hate Shall meet blind yearning on the Fields of Fate. Yea, in the first grey dawning of our race. This ruth-crowned tangle to sad hearts was dear. Then rose a seeming sun, the lift gave place Unto a seeming heaven, far off, but clear ; But that passed too, and afternoon is here ; Nor was the morn so fruitful or so long 20 But we may hearken when ghosts moan of wrong. For as amid the clatter of the town When eve comes on with unabated noise, ■ The soaring wind will sometimes drop adown , And bear unto our chamber the sweet voice " Of bells that 'mid the swallows do rejoice, ■ Half-heard, to make us sad, so we awhile With echoed grief life's dull pain may beguile. 1 Naught vague, naught base our tale, that seems to say, — i ' Be wide-eyed, kind ; curse not the hand that smites ; ! Curse not the kindness of a past good day, 31 j Or hope of love ; cast by all earth's delights, | For very love : through weary days and nights, | Abide thou, striving, howsoe'er in vain. The inmost love of one more heart to gain ! ' A PROLOGUE IN VERSE 61 o So draw ye round and hearken, English Folk, Unto the best tale pity ever wrought ! Of how from dark to dark bright Sigurd broke, Of Brynhild's glorious soul with love distraught. Of Gudrun's weary wandering unto naught, 4° Of utter love defeated utterly, Of Grief too strong to give Love time to die ! DESCRIPTIVE AND CRITICAL ARTICLES 185G DESCRIPTIVE AND CRITICAL ARTICLES THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE No. 1. — SJuxdows of Amiens. {Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, Feb. 1856) Not long ago I saw for the first time some of the churches of North France ; still more recently I saw them for the second time ; and, remembering the love I have for them and the longing that was in me to see them, during the time that came between the first and second visit, I thought I should like to tell people of some of those things I felt when I was there ; — there among those mighty tombs of the long-dead ages. And I thought that even if I could say nothing else about these grand churches, I could at least tell men how much I loved them ; so that, though they might laugh at me for my foolish and confused words, they might yet be moved to see what there was that made me speak my love, though I could give no reason for it. For I will say here that I think those same churches of North France the grandest, the most beautiful, the kindest and most loving of all the buildings that the earth has ever borne ; and, thinking of their past-away builders, can I see through them, very faintly, dimly, some httle of the mediaeval times, else dead, and gone from me for ever, — voiceless for ever. And those same builders, still surely living, still real men, and capable of receiving love, I love no less than the great men, poets and painters and such like, who are on earth now, no less than my breathing friends whom I can see looking kindly on me now. Ah ! do I not love them with just cause, who certainly loved me, thinking of me sometimes between the strokes of their chisels ; and for this love of all men that they had, and moreover for the great love of God, which they certainly had too ; for this, and for this work of theirs, the upraising of the great cathedral front with its beating heart of the thoughts of men, wrought into the leaves and flowers of the fair earth ; wrought into the faces of good men and true, fighters against the wTong, of angels who upheld them, of God who rules all things ; wrought through the lapse of years, and years, and years, by the dint of chisel, and 618 THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE stroke of hammer, into stories of life and death, the second life, the second death, stories of God's deaUng in love and wrath with the nations of the earth, stories of the faith and love of man that dies not : for their love, and the deeds through which it worked, I think they will not lose their reward. So I will say what I can of their works, and I have to speak of Amiens first, and how it seemed to me in the hot August weather. I know how wonderful it would look, if you were to mount one of the steeples of the town, or were even to mount up to the roof of one of the houses westward of the cathedral ; for it rises up from the ground, grey from the paving of the street, the cavernous parches of the west front opening wide, and marvc Uous with the shadows of the carving you can only guess at ; and above stand the kings, and above that you would see the twined mystery of the great flamboyant rose window with its thousand openings, and the shadows of the flower-work carved round it, then the grey towers and gable, grey against the blue of the August sky, and behind them all, rising high into the quivering air, the tall spire over the crossing. But from the hot Place Royale here with its stunted pollard acacias, and statue of some one, I know not whom, but some citizen of Amiens I suppose, you can see nothing but the graceful spire ; it is of wood covered over with lead, and was built quite at the end of the flamboyant times. Once it was gilt all over, and used to shine out there, getting duller and duller, as the bad years grew worse and worse ; but the gold is all gone now ; when it finally disappeared I know not, but perhaps it was in 1771, when the chapter got them the inside of their cathedral white- washed from vaulting to pavement. The spire has two octagonal stages above the roof, formed of trefoiled arches, and slim buttresses capped by leaded figures ; from these stages the sloping spire springs with crocketed ribs at the angles, the lead being arranged in a quaint herring-bone pattern ; at the base of the spire too is a crown of open-work and figures, making a third stage ; finaUy, near the top of the spire the crockets swell, till you come to the rose that holds the great spire-cross of metal-work, such metal-work as the French alone knew how to make ; it is all beautiful, though so late. From one of the streets leading out of the Place Royale you can see the cathedral, and as you come nearer you see that it is clear enough of houses or such like things ; the great apse rises over you, with its belt of eastern chapels ; first the long slim windows of these chapels, which are each of them little apses, the Lady Chapel projecting a good way beyond the rest, and then, running under the cornice of the chajiels and outer aisles all round the church, a cornice of great noble leaves ; then the THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE 619 parapets in changing flamboyant patterns, then the conical roofs of the chapels hiding the exterior tracery of the triforium, then the great elerestory windows, very long, of four lights, and stilted, the tracery beginning a long way below the springing of their arches ; and the buttresses are so thick, and their arms spread so here, that each of the clerestory windows looks down its own space between them, as if between walls : above the windows rise their canopies running through the parapet, and above all the great mountainous roof, and all below it, and around the windows and walls of the choir and apse, stand the mighty army of the buttresses, holding up the weight of the stone roof within with their strong arms for ever. We go round under their shadows, past the sacristies, past the southern transept, only glancing just now at the sculpture there, past the chapels of the nave, and enter the church by the small door hard by the west front, with that figure of huge St. Christo- pher quite close over our heads ; thereby we enter the church, as I said, and are in its western bay. I think I felt inclined to shout when I first entered Amiens cathedral ; it is so free and vast and noble, I did not feel in the least awe-struck, or humbled by its size and grandeur. I have not often felt thus when looking on architecture, but have felt, at all events, at first, intense exulta- tion at the beauty of it ; that, and a certain kind of satisfaction in looking on the geometrical tracery of the windows, on the sweeping of the huge arches, were, I think, my first feelings in Amiens Cathedral. We go down the nave, glancing the while at the traceried windows of the chapels, which are later than the windows above them ; we come to the transepts, and from either side the stained glass, in their huge windows, burns out on us ; and, then, first we begin to appreciate somewhat the scale of the church, by looking up, along the ropes hanging from the vaulting to the pavement, for the tolling of the bells in the spire. There is a hideous renaissance screen, of solid stone or marble, between choir and nave, with more hideous iron gates to it, through which, however, we, walking up the choir steps, can look and see the gorgeous carving of the canopied stalls ; and then, alas ! ' the concretion of flattened sacks, rising forty feet above the altar ; ' but, above that, the belt of the apse windows, rich with sweet mellowed stained glass, under the dome-like roof. The stalls in the choir are very rich, as people know, carved in wood, in the early sixteenth century, with high twisted canopies, and histories, from the Old Testament mostly, -WTOught about them. The history of Joseph I remember best among these. Some of the scenes in it I thought very delightful ; the story told in such a gloriously quaint, straightforward manner. Pharaoh's 620 THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE dream, how splendid that was ! the king lying asleep on his elbow, and the kine coming up to him in two companies. I think the lean kine was about the best bit of wood-carving I have seen yet. There they were, a writhing heap, crushing and crowding one another, drooping heads and starting eyes, and strange angular bodies ; altogether the most wonderful symbol of famine ever conceived. I never fairly understood Pharaoh's dream till I saw the stalls at Amiens. There is nothing else to see in the choir ; all the rest of the fittings being as bad as possible. So we will go out again, and walk round the choir-aisles. The screen round the choir is solid, the upper part of it carved (in the flamboyant times), -with the history of St. John the Baptist, on the north side ; with that of St. Firmin on the south. I remember very little of the sculptures relative to St. John, but I know that I did not like them much. Those about St. Firmin, who evangelized Picardy. I remember much better, and some of them especially I thought very beautiful ; they are painted too, and at any rate one cannot help looking at them. I do not remember, in the least, the order in which they come, but some of them are fixed well enough in my memory ; and, principally, a bishop, (St. Firmin,) preaching, rising out of a pulpit from the midst of the crowd, in his jewelled cope and mitre, and with a beautiful sweet face. Then another, the baptizing of the king and his lords, was very quaint and lifelike. I remember, too, something about the finding of St. Firmin's relics, and the translation of the same relics when found ; the many bishops, with their earnest faces, in the first, and the priests, bearing the reliquaries, in the second ; with their long vestments girded at the waist and falling over their feet, painted too, in light colours, with golden flowers on them. I wish I remembered these carvings better, I liked them so much. Just about this place, in the lower part of the screen, I remember the tomb of a priest, very gorgeous, with gold and colours : he lay in a deep niche, under a broad segmental arch, which is painted with angels ; and, outside this niche, angels were drawing back painted curtains, I am sorry to say. But the priest lay there in cope and alb, and the gentle colour lay over him, as his calm face gazed ever at the angels painted in his resting-place. I have dim recollection of seeing, when I was at Amiens before, not this last time, a tomb, which I liked much, a bishop. I think it was, lying mader a small round arch, but I forget the figure now. This was in a chapel on the other side of the choir. It is veiy hard to describe the interior of a great church like this, especially since the whitewash (applied, as I said, on this scale in 1771) lies on everything so ; before that time, some book says, the church THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE 621 was painted from end to end with patterns of flowers and stars, and histories : think — I might have been able to say something about it then, with that solemn glow of colour all about me, as I walked there from sunrise to sunset ; and yet, perhaps, it would have fiUed my heart too full for sjjeaking, all that beauty ; I know not. Up into the triforium, and other galleries, sometimes in the church, sometimes in narrow passages of close-fitting stone, some- times out in the open air ; up into the forest of beams between the slates and the real stone roof : one can look down through a hole in the vaulting and see the people walking and praying on the pavement below, looking very small from that height, and strangely foreshortened, A strange sense of oppression came over me at that time, when, as we were in one of the galleries of the west front, we looked into the church, and found the vaulting but a foot or two (or it seemed so) above our heads ; also, while I was in the galleries, now out of the church, now in it, the canons had begun to sing complines, and the sound of their singing floated dimly up the winding staircases and half- shut doors. The sun was setting when we were in the roof, and a beam of it, striking through the small window up in the gable, fell in blood-red spots on the beams of the great dim roof. We came out from tlie roof on to the parapet in the blaze of the sun, and then going to the crossing, mounted as high as we could into the spire, and stood there a while looking down on the beautiful country, with its many water-meadows, and feathering trees. And here let me say something about the "way in which I have taken this description upon me ; for I did not write it at Amiens ; moreover, if I had described it from the bare reminiscences of the church, I should have been able to say little enough about the most interesting part of all, the sculptures, namely ; ' so, though remembering well enough the general effect of the whole, and, very distinctly, statues and faces, nay, leaves and flower-knots, here and there ; yet, the external sculpture I am describing as well as I can from such photographs as I have ; and these, as everybody knows, though very distinct and faithful, when they show anything at all, yet, in some places, where the shadows are deep, show simply nothing. They tell me, too, nothing whatever of the colour of the building ; in fact, their brown and yellow is as unlike as possible to the grey of Amiens. So, for the facts -of form, I have to look at my photographs ; for facts of colour I have to try and remember the day or two I spent at Amiens, and the reference to the former has considerably dulled my memory of the latter. I have something else to say, too ; it will seem considerably ridiculous, no doubt, to many people who are 622 THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE well acquainted with the iconography of the French churches, when I talk about the stories of some of the carvings ; both from my want of knowledge as to their meaning, and also from my telling people things which everybody may be supposed to know ; for which I pray forgiveness, and so go on to speak of the carvings about the south transept door. It is divided in the midst by a pillar, whereon stands the Virgin, holding our Lord. She is crowned, and has a smile upon her face now for ever ; and in the canopy above her head are three angels, bearing up the am-eole there ; and about these angels, and the aureole and head of the Virgin, there is still some gold and vermilion left. The Holy Child, held in His mother's left arm, is draped from his throat to his feet, and between His hands He holds the orb of the world. About on a level with the Virgin, along the sides of the doorway, ace four figures on each side, the innermost one on either side being an angel holding a censer ; the others are ecclesiastics, and (some book says) benefactors to the church. They have solemn faces, stern, with firm close-set lips, and eyes deep-set under their brows, almost frowTiing, and all but one or two are beardless, though evidently not young ; the square door valves are carved with deep-twined leaf-mouldings, and the capitals of the door-shafts are carved with varpng knots of leaves and flowers. Above the Virgin, up in the tympanum of the doorway, are carved the Twelve Apostles, divided into two bands of six, by the canopy over the Virgin's head. They are standing in groups of two, but I do not know for certain which they are, except, I think, two, St. James and St. John ; the two first in the eastern division. James has -the pilgrim's hat and staff, and John is the only beardless one among them ; his face is rather sad, and exceedingly lovely, as, indeed, are all those faces, being somewhat alike ; and all in some degree like the type of face received as the likeness of Christ himself. They have all long hair falling in rippled bands on each side of their faces, on to their shoulders. Their drapery, too, is lovely ; they are very beautiful and solemn. Above their heads run a cornice of trefoUed arches, one arch over the head of each apostle ; from out of the deep shade of the trefoils flashes a grand leaf cornice, one leaf again to each apostle ; and so we come to the next com- partment, which contains three scenes from the life of St. Honore, an early French bishop. The first scene is, I think, the election of a bishop, the monks or priests talking the matter over in chapter first, then going to -tell the bishop-elect. Gloriously- draped figures the monks are, with genial faces full of good wisdom, drawn into quaint expressions by the joy of argument. This one old, and has seen much of the world ; he is trying, I think, to get his objections answered by the young man there. THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE 623 who is talking to him so earnestly ; he is listening, with a half- sniUe on his face, as if he had made up his mind, after all. These other two, one very energetic indeed, with his head and shoulders swung back a little, and his right arm forward, and the other listening to him, and but half-convinced yet. Then the two next, turning to go with him who is bearing to the new-chosen bishop the book of the Gospels and pastoral staff ; they look satisfied and happy. Then comes he with the pastoral staff and Gospels ; then, finally, the man who is announcing the news to the bishop himself, the most beautiful figure in the whole scene, perhaps, in the whole doorway ; he is stooping down, lovingly, to the man they have chosen, with his left hand laid on his arm, and his long robe falls to liis feet from his shoulder all along his left side, moulded a little to the shape of his body, but falling heavily and with scarce a fold in it, to the ground : the chosen one sitting there, with his book held between his two hands, looks up to him with his brave face, and he will be bishop, and rule well, I think. So, by the next scene he is bishop, I suppose, and is sitting there ordering the building of a church ; for he is sitting under a trefoiled canopy, with his mitre on his head, his right hand on a reading-desk by his side. His book is Mng open, his head turned toward what is going forwards. It is a splendid head and face. In the photograph I have of this subject, the mitre, short and simple, is in full light but for a little touch of shade on one side ; the face is shaded, but the crown of short crisp curls hanging over it, about half in light, half in shade. Beyond the trefoil canopy comes a wood of quaint conventional trees, full of stone, with a man working at it with a long pick : I cannot see his face, as it is altogether in shade, the light falling on his head however. He is dressed in a long robe, quite down to his feet, not a very convenient dress, one would think, for working in. I like the trees here very much ; they are meant for hawthorns and oaks. There are a very few leaves on each tree, but at the top they are all twisted about, and are thicker, as if the wind were blowing them. The Uttle capitals of the canopy, under which the bishop is sitting, are very delightful, and are common enough in larger work of this time (thirteenth century) in France. Four bunches of leaves spring from long stiff stalks, and support the square abacus, one under each corner. The next scene, in the division above, is some miracle or other, which took place at mass, it seems. The bishop is saying mass before an altar ; behind him are four assistants ; and, as the bishop stands there with his hand raised, a hand coming from some- where by the altar, holds down towards him the consecrated wafer. The thing is gloriously carved, whatever it is. The assistant immediately behind the bishop, holding in his hands a 624 THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE candlestick, somewhat slantwise towards the altar, is, especially in the drapery, one of the most beautiful in the upper part of this tympanum ; his head is a little bent, and the line made from the back of it over the heavy hair, down along the heavy-swinging robe, is very beautiful. The next scene is the shrine of some Saint. This same bishop, I suppose, dead now, after all his building and ruling, and hard fighting possibly, with the powers that be ; often to be fought with righteously in those times. Over the shrine sits the effigy of the bishop, with his hand raised to bless. On the western side are two worshippers ; on the eastern, a blind and a deaf man are being healed, or waiting to be healed, by the touch of the dead bishop's robe. The deaf man is leaning forward, and the servant of the shrine holds to his ear the bishop's robe. The deaf man has a very deaf face, not very anxious though ; not even showing very much hope, but faithful only. The blind one is coming up behind him with a crutch in his right hand, and led by a dog ; the face was either in its first estate, very ugly and crabbed, or by the action of the weather or some such thing, has been changed so. So the bishop being dead and miracles being wrought at his tomb, in the division above comes the translation of his remains ; a long procession taking up the whole of the division, which is shorter than the others, however, being higher up towards the top of the arch. An acolyte bearing a cross heads the procession, then two choristers ; then priests bearing relics and books ; long vestments they have, and stoles crossed underneath their girdles ; then comes the reliquary borne by one at each end, the two finest figures in this division, the first especially ; his head raised and his body leaning forward to the weight of the reliquary, as people nearly always do walk when they carry burdens and are going slowly ; which this procession certainly is doing, for some of the figures are even turning round. Three men are kneeling or bending down beneath the shrine as it passes ; cripples they are, all three have beautiful faces, the one who is apparently the worst cripple of the three (his legs and feet are horribly tv/isted) has especially a wonderfully delicate face, timid and shrinking, though faithful : behind the shrine come the people, walking slowly together with reverent faces ; a woman with a little child holding her hand are the last figures in this history of St. Honore : they both have their faces turned full south, the woman has not a beautiful face, but a happy good- natured genial one. The cornice below this division is of plain round-headed trefoils very wide, and the spandril of each arch is pierced with a small round trefoil, very sharply cut, looking, in fact, as if it were cut with a punch : this cornice, simple though it is, I think very THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE 625 beautiful, and in my photograijli the broad trefoils of it thror/ sharp black shadows on the stone behind the worshipping figures, and square-cut altars. In the triangular space at the top of the arch is a representation of our Lord on the cross ; St. Mary and St. John standing 0:1 either side of him, and, kneeling on one knee under the sloping sides of the arch, two angels, one on each side. I very much wish I could say something more about tliis piece of carving than I can do, because it seems to me that the French thirteenth century sculptors failed less in their representations of the crucifixion than almost any set of artists ; though it was certainly an easier thing to do in stone than on canvas, especially in such a case as this where the representation is so highly abstract ; neverthe- less, I wish I could say something more about it ; failing whicli, I will say something about my photograph of it. I cannot see the Virgin's face at all, it is in the shade so much ; St. John's I cannot see very well ; I do not think it is a remark- able face, though there is sweet expression in it ; our Lord's faco is very grand and solemn, as fine as I remember seeing it any- where in sculpture. The shadow of the body hanging on the cross there, falls strangely and weirdly on the stone behind — • both the kneeling angels (who, by the way, are holding censers,) are beautiful. Did I say above that one of the faces of the twelve Apostles was the most beautiful in the tympanum ? if I did, I retract that saying, certainly, looking on the westernmost of these two angels. I keep using the word beautiful so often that I feel half inclined to apologize for it ; but I cannot help it, though it is often quite inadequate to express the loveliness of some of the figures carved here ; and so it happens surely with the face of this angel. The face is not of a man, I should think ; it is rather like a very fair woman's face ; but fairer than any woman's face I ever saw or thought of : it is in profile and easy to be seen in the photograph, though somewhat in the shade. I am utterly at a loss how to describe it, or to give any idea of tho exquisite lines of the cheek and the rippled hair sweeping back from it, just faintly touched by the light from the south-east. I cannot say more about it. So I have gone through the carvings in the lower part of this doorway, and those of the tympanum. Now, besides these, all the arching-over of the door is filled with figures under canopies, about which I can say little, partly from want of adequate photographs, partly from ignorance of their import. But the first of the cavettos wherein these figures are, is at any rate filled with figures of angels, some swinging censers, some bearing crowns, and other things which I cannot distinguish. Most of the niches in the next cavetto seem to hold subjects ; but MOBBIS S g 626 THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE the square camera of the photographer clips some, many others are in shadow, in fact the niches throw heavy shadows over the faces of nearly all ; and without the photograph I remember nothing but much fretted grey stone above the line of the capitals of the doorway shafts ; grey stone with something carved in it, and the swallows flying in and out of it. Yet now there are three niches I can say something about at all events. A stately figure with a king's crown on his head, and hair falling in three waves over his shoulders, a very kingly face looking straight onward ; a great jewelled collar falling heavily to his elbows : his right hand holding a heavy sceptre formed of many budding flowers, and his left just touching in front the folds of his raiment that falls heavily, very heavily to the ground over his feet. Saul, King of Israel. — A bending figure with covered head, pouring, with his right hand, oil on the head of a youth, not a child plainly, but dwarfed to a young child's stature before the bending of the solemn figure with the covered head, Samuel anointing David. — A king again, with face hidden in deep shade, holding a naked sword in his right hand, and a living infant in the other ; and two women before him, one with a mocking smile on her face, the other with her head turned up in passionate entreaty, grown women they are plainly, but dwarfed to the stature of young girls before the hidden face of the King. The judgement of Solomon. — An old man with drawn sword in right hand, with left hand on a fair youth dwarfed, though no child, to the stature of a child ; the old man's head is turned somewhat towards the presence of an angel behind him, who points downward to something unseen. Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac. — Noah too, working diligently that the ark may be finished before the flood comes. — Adam tilling the ground, and clothed in the skins of beasts. — There is Jacob's stolen blessing, that was yet in some sort to be a blessing though it was stolen. — There is old Jacob whose pilgrimage is just finished now, after all his doings and sufferings, all those deceits inflicted upon him, that made him remember, perforce, the lie he said and acted long ago, — old Jacob blessing the sons of Joseph. And many more which I remember not, know not, mingled too with other things which 1 dimly see have to do with the daily occupations of the men who lived in the dim, far-off thirteenth century, I remember as I came out by the north door of the west front, how tremendous the porches seemed to me, which impression of greatness and solemnity, the photographs, square-cut and brown- coloured, do not keep at all ; still however I can recall whenever I please the wonder I felt before that great triple porch ; I remem- ber best in this way the porch into which I first entered, namely the northernmost, probably because I saw most of it, coming in THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE 627 and out often by it, yet perhaps the fact that I have seen no photograph of this doorway somewhat assists this impression. Yet I do not remember even of this anything more than tbo fact that the tympanum represented the life and death of some early French bishop •, it seemed very interesting. I remember, too, that in the door-jambs were standing figures of bishops in two long rows, their mitred heads bowed forward solemnly, and I remember nothing further. Concerning the southernmost porch of the west front. — The doorway of this porch also has on the centre pillar of it a statue of the Virgin standing, holding the Divine Child in her arms. Both the faces of the Virgin Mother and of her Son are very beautiful ; I like them much better than those in the south transept already spoken of ; indeed I think them the grandest of all the faces of the Madonna and Child that I have seen carved by the French architects. I have seen many, the faces of which I do not like, though the drapery is always beautiful ; their faces I do not like at all events, as faces of the Virgin and Child, though as faces of other people even if not beautiful they would be interesting. The Child is, as in the transept, draped down to the feet ; draped too, how exquisitely I know not how to say. His right arm and hand is stretched out across His mother's breast, His left hangs down so that His wrist as His hand is a little curved upwards, rests upon His knee ; His mother holds Him slightly with her left arm, with her right she holds a fold of her robe on which His feet rest. His figure is not by any means that of an infant, for it is slim and slender, too slender for even a young boy, yet too soft, too much rounded for a youth, and the head also is too large ; I suppose some people would object to this way of carving One who is supposed to be an infant ; yet I have no doubt that the old sculptors were right in doing so, and to my help in this matter comes the remembrance of Ruskin's answer to what Lord Lindsay says concerning the inability of Giotto and his school to paint young children:^ for he says that it might very well happen that Giotto could paint children, but yet did not choose to in this instance, (the Presentation of the Virgin,) for the sake of the much greater dignity to be obtained by using the more fully developed figure and face ; and surely, whatever could be said about Giotto's paintings, no one who was at all acquainted with Early French sculpture could doubt that the carvers of this iigure here, could have carved an infant if they had thought fit so to do, men who again and again grasped ^ In the explanatory remarks accompanying the engravings from Giotto's frescoes in the Arena Chapel, published by the Arundel Society. I regret not being able to give the reference to the passage, not having the work by me. S S 2 . 628 THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE eagerly common everyday things when in any way they would tell their story. To return to the statues themselves. The face of the young Christ is of the same character as His figure, such a face as Elizabeth Browning tells of, the face of One ' who never sinned or smiled ' ; at least if the sculptor fell below his ideal somewhat, yet for all that, through that face which he failed in a little, we can see when we look, that his ideal was such an one. The Virgin's face is calm and very sweet, full of rest, — indeed the two figures are very full of rest ; everything about them expresses it from the broad forehead of the Virgin, to the resting of the feet of the Child (who is almost self-balanced) in the fold of the robe that she holds gently, to the falling of the quiet lines of her robe over her feet, to the resting of its folds between them. The square heads of the door- valves, and a flat moulding above them which runs up also into the first division of the tympanum, is covered with faintly cut diaper-work of four-leaved flowers. Along the jambs of the doorway on the north side stand six kings, all bearded men but one, who is young apparently ; I do not know who these are, but think they must be French kings ; one, the farthest toward the outside of the porch, has taken his crown off, and holds it in his hand : the figures on the other side of the door-jambs are invisible in the photograph except one, the nearest to the door, young, sad, and earnest to look at — I know not who he is. Five figures outside the porch, and on the angles of the door-jambs, are I suppose prophets, perhaps those who have prophesied of the birth of our Lord, as this door is apportioned to the Virgin. The first division of the tympanum has six sitting figures in it I on each side of the canopy over the Virgin's head, Moses and Aaron ; Moses with the tables of the law, and Aaron with great blossomed staff : with them again, two on either side, sit the four greater prophets, their heads veiled, and a scroll lying along between them, over their knees ; old they look, very old, old and passionate and fierce, sitting there for so long. The next division has in it the death and burial of the Virgin — the twelve Apostles clustering round the deathbed of the Virgin. I wish my photogi-aph were on a larger scale, for this indeed seems to me one of the most beautiful pieces of carving about this church, those earnest faces expressing so many things mingled with their regret that she will be no more with them ; and she, the Virgin-Mother, in whom all those prophecies were fulfilled, lying so quiet there, with her hands crossed downwards, dead at last. Ah ! and where will she go now ? whose face will she see always ? Oh ! that we might be there too ! Oh ! those faces so full of all tender regret, which even They must feel for Her I full of all yearning, and longing that they too might finish THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE 629 the long fight, that they might be with the happy dead : there is a wonder on their faces too, when they see what the mighty power of Death is. The foremost is bending down, with his left hand laid upon her breast, and he is gazing there so long, so very long ; one looking there too, over his shoulder, rests his hand on him ; there is one at the head, one at the foot of the bed ; and he at the head is turning round his head, that he may see her face, while he holds in his hands the long vestment on which her head rests. In my photograph the shadow is so thick that I cannot see much of the burial of the Virgin, can see scarce anything of the faces, only just the forms, of the Virgin lying quiet and still there, of the bending angels, and their great wings that shadow everything there. So also of the third and last division filling the top of the arch. I only know that it represents the Virgin sitting glorified with Clirist, crowned by angels, and with angels all about her. The first row in the vaulting of the porch has angels in it, holding censers and candlesticks ; the next has in it the kings who sprung from Jesse, with a flowing bough twisted all among them ; the third and last is hidden by a projecting moulding. All the three porches of the west front have a fringe of cusps ending in flowers, hanging to their outermost arch, and above this a band of flower-work, consisting of a rose and three rose- leaves alternating with each other. Ck)ncerning the central porch of the west front. — The pillar which divides the valves of the central porch carries a statue of Our Lord ; his right hand raised to bless, his left hand holding the Book ; along the jambs of the porch are the Apostles, but not the Apostles alone, I should think ; those that are in the side that I can see have their distinctive emblems with them, some of them at least. Their faces vary very much here, as also their figures and dress ; the one I like best among them is one who I think is meant for St. James the Less, with a long club in his hands : but they are all grand faces, stern and incUgnant, for they have come to judgement. For there above in the tympanum, in the midst over the head of Christ, stand three angels, and the midmost of them bears scales in his hands, wherein are the souls being weighed against the accusations of the Accuser, and on either side of him stands another angel, blowing a long trumpet, held downwards, and their long, long raiment, tight across the breast, falls down over their feet, heavy, vast, ungirt ; and at the corners of this same division stand two other angels, and they also are blowing long trumpets held downwards, so that their blast goes round the Vy'orld and through it ; and the dead are rising between the robes 630 THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE of the angels with their hands many of them lifted to heaven ; and above them and below them are deep bands of wrought flowers ; and in the vaulting of the porch are eight bands of niches with manj% many figures carved therein ; and in the first row in the lowest niche Abraham stands with the saved souls in the folds of his raiment. In the next row and in the rest of the niches are angels with their hands folded in prayer ; and in the next row angels again, bearing the souls over, of which they had charge in life ; and this is, I think, the most gloriously carved of all those in the vaulting. Then martyrs come bearing their palm- boughs ; then priests with the chalice, each of them ; and others there are which I know not of. But above the resurrection from the dead, in the tympanum, is the reward of the good, and the punishment of the bad. Peter standing there at the gate, and the long line of the blessed entering one by one ; each one crowned as he enters by an angel waiting there ; and above their heads a cornice takes the shape of many angels stooping down to them to crown them. But on the inferno side the devil drives before him the wicked, all naked, presses them on toward hell- mouth, that gapes for them, and above their heads the devil- cornice hangs and weighs on them. And above these the Judge showing the wounds that were made for the salvation of the world : and St. Mary and St. John kneeling on either side of Him, they who stood so once at the Crucifixion ; two angels carrying cross and spear and nails ; two others kneeling, and, above, other angels, with their wings spread, and singing. Something like this is carved in the central porch at Amiens. Once more forgive me, I pray, for the poor way in which I have done even that which I have attempted to do ; and forgive me also for that which I have left undone. And now, farewell to the church that I love, to the carved temple-mountain that rises so high above the water-meadows of the Somme, above the grey roofs of the good town. Farewell to the sweep of the arches, up from the bronze bishops lying at the west end, up to the belt of solemn windows, where, through the painted glass, the light comes solemnly. Farewell to the cavernous porches of the west front, so grey under the fading August sun, grey with the wind-storms, grey with the rain-storms, grey with the beat of many days' sun, from sunrise to sunset ; showing white sometimes, too, when the svin strikes it strongly ; snowy- white, sometimes, when the moon is on it, and the shadows grow- ing blacker ; but grey now, fretted into deeper grey, fretted into black by the mitres of the bishops, by the solemn covered heads of the prophets, by the company of the risen, and the long robes of the judgement-angels, by hell-mouth and its flames gaping there, and the devils that feed it ; by the saved souls THE CHURCHES OF NORTH FRANCE 631 and the crowning angels ; by the presence of the Judge, and by the roses growing above them all for ever. Farewell to the spire, gilt all over with gold once, and shining out there, very gloriously ; dull and grey now, alas ; but still it catches, through its interlacement of arches, the intensest blue of the blue summer sky ; and, sometimes at night you may see the stars shining through it. It is fair still, though the gold is gone, the spire that seems to rock, when across it, in the wild February nights, the clouds go westward. 'DEATH THE AVENGER' AND 'DEATH THE FRIEND' {Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, August 1856) The names of two wonderful wood engravings by Alfred Rethel, a German, and one to be remembered in the aftertime. Now Death the Avenger commemorates the first appearance of the Cholera, in 1831, which happened in Paris at a masked ball. It is there, in that room, the Cholera, and Death ; a strangely chosen room, one thinks, in its architecture, for a ball-room; liker to a tomb than that; it might have served well in those old times for the followers of John and Paul to meet in — to feel new life come upon them ; new thoughts, new love, new longings, new hope. Thick walls and heavy roof, and deep splayed windows it has, but withal gorgeous patterned hangings from gallery and pillar and dais ; gorgeous, but ugly ; the patterns crawl like evil poisonous spiders, like the blotches of damp on foul walls. And in tliis ball-room only one dances now — Death — arraj^ed in hood and the long robes of a pilgrim, girt about the middle with a rope ; one leg showing from the long drapery is thrown forward in mockery of dancing ; and the dancers ? there are two of them lying there, a man and a woman, both dead and stiff — the man's mask has fallen down, covers all his face except the eyes and forehead — and very strangely contrasted are the calm, self-satisfied, inane features of the mask with the wrinkled forehead and brows contracted in pain of the face that was aUve once ; the woman's mask, fastened to her hat, has fallen back, and her open mouth shows free from it ; her arms are hidden by her dress, a long flower-garland trails round about her. And the rest of the maskers are lushing in mad race out of the room, the last wearing a fantastic dress with a fool's hump on the back of it, his arms muffled in his mumming-dress. 632 ' DEATH THE AVENGER ' Others are there who rush out also, the musicians ; huddled all together, their instruments blocking up the way, no man looking at his neighbour to see how he fares, or caring for him : for the grinning skeleton. Death, standing there with his head thrown on one side, has two bones in his hands, which he uses as fiddle and fiddle-bow, playing so wonderfully that, as you look at the dramng, you almost seem to hear the wild terrible skirling of some mad reel. Most terrible figure of all, in the background sits The Cholera, waiting ; in her right hand a triple scourge armed at the end with goads ; such firm grip of that scourge ; and her left hand clasps her right arm just below the wrist, fearful strong arms and hands — she is wrapped in long raiment that trails on the ground, and has flames all about it — her face is black, her mouth stern, indig- nant, with lips drawn up tight together ; fixed eyes, glaring straight forward, and lidless, no drooping eyelids to her, beneath any rebuke, any defiance ; is it not strange, that with all this the face is not a cruel one ? Such a sense the thing seems to have that it too is God's creature, called up in his quarrel ; strange that there should be even pity in it. This is ' Death the Avenger '. — Then ' Death the Friend '. In an old tower just below the belfry, in the place where they ring the bells : there is Death again in his pilgrim's dress, tolling for one who is just dead, the Sacristan of that Church ; this Death is draped tenderly down to the feet ; there is no maddening horror about him, awe only ; he is not grinning as in the other picture, but gazes downward, thoughtfully, almost sadly, think- ing of the old man's life that has been. And he, with his hands laid together and his eyes closed, is leaning back in his chair: many a time these latter years has he leant back so ; then needs must that he rise stiffly and wearily to go about his duties ; but now he need never rise again ; his lips, parted a little now, need never again be drawn together close, at sight of weary injustice and wrong ; he will soon understand why all these things were. The dragons on the spire eaves lean forward open-mouthed, disappointed because he has got quit of all that now ; near the head of him against the wall is a figure of Christ on the Cross, a Bible is open by the side of him ; near the stairs is a horn hanging, a huntsman's horn, and through the -Rindow, on the sill of which a bird is singing, you can see the fair sunset-country stretching away for leagues and leagues (for we are high up here, just under the spire). They say he was a hunter in the old time, this man ; that he heard the north wind sing about his ears, as he dashed over the open spaces ; that the young beech-leaves in the early summer quivered at the blasts of his horn ; that many a time be rode into AND ' DEATH THE FRIEND ' 633 that village you can see do^vn there, wherein he was born, where his father and his father's father Hved, weary with riding ; that some one used to look out for him when he rode in, in the evenings. But that too is all gone by — only in memories perhaps — yet he had other hopes then perhaps than this, a mere old sacristan dying lonely in the old belfry. What matter ? for the setting sun is bright over all that country, and the bird sings still in the window siU — not afraid of death. This is * Death the Friend '. MEN AND WOMEN By Robert Beowning ^ (Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, March 1856) I AM not going to attempt a regular classification of Robert Browning's ' Men and Women' ; yet the poems do fall naturally into some order, or rather some of them go pretty much together ; and, as I have no great space, I will go through those that do so fall together, saying little or nothing about the others. The three that strike me first are ' The Epistle of Karshish ', ' Cleon ', and ' Bishop Blougram's Apology '. They have all three to do with belief and doubt, with the thoughts and fancies, and strange longings that circle round these ; they are dramatic too, not expressing, except quite incidentally, the poet's own thoughts. ' Cleon ', and the ' Epistle of Karshish ', are especially dramatic, and are very considerably alike : they both tell of the desires and doubts of men out of Christianity, and in the days when Christianity was the true faith of a very few unknown men, not a mere decent form to all the nations. Karshish is an Arab physician, a man of science ; Cleon is poet, painter, sculptor. The Arab is the more genial of the two, less selfish, somewhat deeper too, I think ; Cleon, with his intense appreciation of beauty, even with his long life spent in producing that beauty, is yet intensely selfish ; he despises utterly the common herd ; he would bring about, if he could, a most dreary aristocracy of intellect, where the commoners would be bound hand and foot, mere slaves to the great men, and their great lordly minds, not loyal freemen, honouring the heroes ; he plumes himself, too, on being no less great than his fathers, greater even than they, saying : Marvel not. We of these latter days, with greater mind * Men and Women, by Robert Browning; 2 vols. : Chapman & Hall, 1855. 634 MEN AND WOMEN Than our forerunners, since more composite. Look not so great (beside their simple way). To a judge who only sees one way at once. One mmd-point, and no other at a time ; Compares the small part of a man of us AVith some whole man of the heroic age. Great in his way — not ours, nor meant for ours. And ours is greater, had we skill to know. Saying wrongly, too, as I am sure, for it was little more than mere restless vanity that made him try to master so many things, instead of giving up his mind to one, as the grand elders did. Yes, he is selfish — so selfish that he can see little joy in those powers of creation which he possessed ; the king had said, in his letter, that though he, a mere king, would die utterly, yet it would not be so with Cleon, for his pictures, poems, statues, would live after him, he would live through them. Cleon says the king stumbles at mere words ; that the reality is otherwise : What ? dost thou verily trip upon a word. Confound the accurate view of what joy is, (Caught somewhat clearer by my eyes than thine,) With feeling joy ? confound the knowing how And showing how to live (my faculty) With actually livmg ? Otherwise, Where is the artist's vantage o'er the king ? I know the joy of kingship : well — thou art king ! He says too, that this same appreciation of beauty, of enjoyment, all the knowledge that he has, all his desires, so much finer than those of other men, only make the fear of death bitterer than it otherwise would be : Every day my sense of joy Grows more acute, my soul (intensified In power and insight) more enlarged, more keen, WhUe every day my hairs fall more and more. My hand shakes, and the heavy years increase. The horror quickening still from year to year. The consummation coming past escape. When I shall know most, and yet least enjoy. Till at last, in his agony, fierce words are wrung from the calm proud man ; he cannot help it — he cries out. It is so horrible, I dare at times imagine to my need Some future state reveal'd to us by Zeus, Unlimited in capability For joy, as this is in desire for joy. To seek which, the joy-hunger forces us, That, stung by straitnesa of our life, made strait MEN AND WOMEN 635 On purpose to make sweet the life at large. Freed by the throbbing iinpuLsc we call death. We burst then as the worm into the fly. Who while a worm still, wants his wings. But no ! Zeus has not yet reveal'd it ; and, alas ! He must have done so, were it possible ! And from this agony he comes down again to a kind of careless despair, and ends by saying just a little, contemptuously enough, of Paulus and his new doctrines ; the cursed pride of knowledge lowering him so, that he even seems to be jealous that the king has sent presents and enquiries to Paulus also, a barbarian, one circumcised ; so that about the doctrines of Paulus, he says : And (as I gathered from a by-stander) His doctrines could be held by no sane man. Poor Cleon ! he was not wont to accept things on hearsay ; yet now so has his pride lowered him ; and we must leave him and his longings for Karshish the Arab. Karshish is, as I said, a better man than Cleon ; a simpler man, one with great knowledge, always thirsting after more, and brave in his pursuit of it ; yet on the whole, I think, kindly, and not puffed up with that knowledge. He writes from Jerusalem to his old master, to tell him how he has seen Lazarus ; yet he is half fearful that he will seem ridiculous, unphilosophical, and does not like to acknowledge at first, even to himself, till he grows "warmer from the longings that stir within him, what impression has been made on him ; and he breaks off now and then to talk about his knowledge ; yet he comes back to this always at last, for he cannot help it ; and so he writes ; very beautifully does he tell of the perfect faith of Lazarus, of his love of God and man, nay, of beasts, nay, of the very flowers ; of his resignation and obedience to God through everything ; of his strange clear second-sight; yearningly does he dwell on all this, excusing himself from ridicule now and then, by saying, ' yet the man was mad.' He knows how" little all knowledge is, how it can never be perfected through all the generations ; but he longs to love perfectly ; his God is different from Lazarus's God ; his idea of Him is so different, that he mentions with shuddering horror that which Lazarus had told him ; ' that he, Lazarus, who stood there in the flesh, had seen God in the flesh too ; ' in horror ; 3'et if it only could be true, that story told by the madman ! The very God ! think, Abib, dost thou think ? So, the All-great, were the All-Loving too ; So, through the thunder comes a human voice, Saying, ' heart I made, a heart beats here ! Face; my hands fashion'd, see it in myself. 636 MEN AND WOMEN Thou hast no power nor may'st conceive of muie, But love I gave thee, with myself to love, And thou must love me who have died for thee ! ' The madman saith he said so : it is strange. You see, too, he does not say, as Cleon did to his dream of Heaven, ' it is not possible ; ' he only says, ' it is strange.' It is all gloriously told ; here is something beside our present question which I quote for its beauty ; Karshish's first meeting with Lazarus : I met him thus — I cross'd a ridge of short sharp broken hills, Like an old lion's cheek-tooth — out there came A moon made like a face, with certain spots Multiform, manifold, and menacing : Then a wind rose behind me. So we met In this old sleepy town at unaware. The man and I. Concerning ' Bishop Blougram's Apology ' I can say little here, it embraces so many things ; the Bishop's interlocutor, ' Gigadibs, the literary man,' comes in only as an objector, or little else ; he is a man without fixed faith ; the bishop is one who is trying to ' believe that he believes ', and is succeeding, I think, pretty well : for my part I dislike him thoroughly, yet he says many true things, as Browning says in the Epilogue : ' he said true things, but called them by wrong names.' He agrees too with Cleon concerning the unpleasantness of the possession of the creative power. It is of no use to him, he says ; he is more selfish even than Cleon, and not nearly so interesting : he is tolerably well content with the present state of things as regards himself, has no such very deep longings, and is not so much troubled with doubts probably as even he says he is. Browning says of him, ' For Blougram, he believed, say half he spoke.' I will go on to the next band that seem to go together, those about art, namely ; they are Andrea del Sarto, Fra Lijjpo Lippi, Old Pictures at Florence, A Toccata of Galuppi, and Master Hugues of Saxe-Gotha. Andrea del Sarto, and Fra Lippo Lippi are a good deal alike, only the first has more about the man, the second about the art he lives in. What a joy it is to have these men brought up before us, made alive again, though they have passed away from the earth so long ago ; made alive, seeming indeed not as they might very likely have seemed to us, the lesser men, had we lived in their times ; but rescued from the judgement of the world, ' which charts us all in its broad blacks or whites ' — and shown to us as they really were. MEN AND WOMEN 637 Think of Andrea del Sarto sitting there in Florence, looking over to Fiesole, trying to forget all the shame, all the weariness, to forget the pain of them at least, to live for one half-hour in the present ; yet so, that the past and the future may mingle with it very quietly, like the long weeds that the stream sways with it. And Lucrezia is sitting by him, Lucrezia, who he knows is not worthy of his love — no, not even of his love, the breaker of troth, the runaway ; and yet he goes on loving her nevertheless, she has wound her toils about him so. Oh ! true story, told so often, in so many ways. And it shall all go into a picture for the wearied man resting there : The whole seems to fall into a shape. As if I saw alike my work and self, And all that I was bound to be and do, A twilight-piece. And how calmly he can talk of himself and his art, his great success that was rather a bitter failure to him now ; I do what many dream of all their lives, — Dream ? strive to do, and agonize to do. And fail in doing. I could count twenty such On twice your fingers, and not leave this town. Who strive — you don't know how the others strive To paint a little thing Hke that you smcar'd. Carelessly passing with your robes afloat. Yet do much less, so much less, some one says, (I know his name, no matter) so much less ! Well, less is more, Lucrezia ! I am judged. There burns a truer light of God in them. In their vex'd, beating, stuff 'd and stopp'd-up brain. Heart, or whate'er else, than goes on to prompt This low-pulsed forthright craftsman's hand of mine. Their works drop groundward, but themselves, I know, Reach many a time a heaven that's shut to me. Enter and take their place there sure enough. Though they come back and cannot tell the world. Calmly he speaks of the wrong she had been to him, of what she might have been ; calmly of his life in France, and of his sin even when he fled from thence a very thief : and she, in spite of all, is rather in a hurry to get away, is rather bored by his talk, howsoever loving, for her ' cousin ' waits for her below : and so you can almost see the flutter of her dress through the doorway, almost hear her feet do^vn the stairs, and the greeting of the bad woman without a heart with that ' cousin '. Almost ? nay, quite. Then for Fra Lippo Lippi. He, found in questionable haimts by the police, first awes them somewhat by mention of his 638 MEN AND WOMEN ] patron's name, Cosimo de Medici ; then, being a man with \ wi'ongs and one who must speak to somebody, he tells the officer the very simple story of his life, and his grievance : Rub aU out ! well, well, there 's my life, in short, ! And so the thing has gone on ever since — j I'm grown a man no doubt, I've broken bounds. ' And yet the old schoohng sticks — the old grave eyes i Are peeping o'er my shoulder as I work, ; The heads shake still. * It 's Art's decline, my son ! i You're not of the true painters, great and old : Brother Angelico 's the man, you'll find : I Brother Lorenzo stands his single peer — j Fag on at flesh, you'll never make the third.' ; I'm not the third then : bless us, they must know ! I Don't you think they're the likeliest to know! < They, with their Latin ? so I swallow my rage, J Clench my teeth, suck my hps in tight, and paint ] To please them. I This too is an often-told tale, to be told many times again | I fear before the world is done with. To this same officer he vindicates himself : everything almost is worth painting, surely j it is best (whatever may be good) to paint everything as well as j possible : j You be judge ! j You speak no Latin more than I, belike — ■ | However, you 're my man, you've seen the world — • I The beauty and the wonder and the power, ' The shapes of things, their colours, lights and shades, i Changes, surprises, — and God made it all ! ,\ What 's it all about ? ' To be pass'd o'er, despised ? or dwelt upon, ; Wonder'd at ? oh, this last of course, you say ; \ But why not do as well as say, — paint these -^ Just as they are, careless of what comes of it ? God's works — paint any one, and count it crime To let a truth slip. Don't object, ' His works Are here aheady — nature is complete : Suppose you reproduce her — (which you can't) There 's no advantage ! you must beat her, then ! ' For, don't you mark ? we're made so that wo love First, when we see them painted, things we have pass'd Perhaps a hundred times, nor cared to see ; And so they are better, painted — better to us. Which is the same thing. Art was given for that — God uses us to help each other so. Lending our minds out. MEN AND WOMEN 639 , It is very grand, this intense love of art ; and I suppose that those who cannot paint, and who therefore cannot feel quite the same herein, have nevertheless sometimes had a sick longing for the power to do so, without being able to give any reason for it, such a longing as I think is felt for nothing else under the sun, — at least for no other power. And so we leave Fra Lippo Lipj>i, not certainly feeling alto- gether disgusted with the man, in spite of his sins ; you see, he had not a very good education, and yet is not so selfish as one might have expected him to be either. No less great than these two is ' Old Pictures at Florence ' ; beautiful in the beginning, that gazing on Florence from the garden, in spring-tide ; beautiful and very true, that indignant vindication of the early mediaeval painters ; that comparison of their imperfect painting, with the perfect sculpture of the Greeks, perfect, but not so good as the other ; for the other was higher in its aim, higher in the thoughts that it called up in men's minds ; higher too, that in its humility it gave more sympathy to poor struggling, falling men. Here is a stanza or two of that vindication : — Wherever a fresco peels and drops, Wherever an outline weakens and wanes Till the latest life in the painting stops. Stands ono whom each fainter pulse-tick pains ! One, wishful each scrap Bhould clutch its brick. Each tinge not whoUy escape the plaster, A lion who dies of an ass's kick. The wrong'd great soul of an ancient master. For oh, this world and tho wrong it docs! They are safe in heaven -nith their backs to it, The Michaels and Rafaels, you hum and buzz Round the works of, you of the little wit ! Do their eyes contract to the earth's old scope, Now that they see God face to face. And have all attain'd to be poets, I hope ? 'Tis their holiday now, in any case. Much they reck of your praise and 3'ou ! But the wronged great souls — can they be quit Of a world where all their work is to do ? These are the three that have most to do with artists and paint- ing. Then come two concerning music, ' A Toccata of Galuppi,' and ' Master Hugues of Saxe-Gotha '. There is not so much to say about the first of these, it seems to have been written principally for the music ; yet I think Galuppi's music itself could not have beaten it, played though 640 MEN AND WOMEN it was between the sea and the palaces, it rings so gloriously throughout ; not one line in it falls from beginning to end, from the first : Oh, Galuppi Baldassaro, this is very sad to find ! I could hardly misconceive you ; it would prove me deaf and blind ; But although I give you credit, 'tis with such a heavy mind ! to the last : ' Dust and ashes ! ' so you creak it, and I want the heart to scold. Dear dead women, with such hair, too — what 's become of all the gold Used to hang and brush their bosoms ? I feel chilly and grown old. Worthy to go with this for music is ' Master Hugues ' ; exquisite in melody, it is beautiful also in its pictures, true in its meaning. As to its melody, there is to me something perfectly wonderful in the pilmg up of the words from verse to verse. The thing fascinates me, though I cannot tell where the wonder is ; — but it is there ; the first stanza is almost as good as any for thi^ music : Hist, but a word, fair and soft ! Forth and be judged. Master Hugues ! Answer the question I've put you so oft — What do you mean by your mountainous fugues ? See, we're alone in the loft. Then these others go together in my mind ; ' Before ' and ' After ', ' Childe Roland to the dark tower came ', ' The Patriot ', ' A light Woman ', and perha^JS some others ; but these will do. They are all more concerned with action than thought, and are wholly dramatical. Here is the first stanza from ' The Patriot ' : — It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path Uke mad. The house-roofs seem'd to heave and sway, The church-spires flamed, such flags they had, A year ago on this very day ! The poem is very short, yet very attractive, somehow ; the man's life is shown wonderfully, though the poem is so short ; how he knew before, when he liberated these people, that they would not be faithful to him for long, yet, nevertheless, went on hoping against hope ! He is not vain, for he knows he could not have done other than he did ; yet he knows he has done well, and so comforts himself, thinking of the next world : — Thus I enter'd Brescia, and thus I go ! In such triumphs people have dropp'd down dead. ' Thou paid by the world — what dost thou owe Me ? ' God might have question'd : but now instead, 'Tis God shall requite ! I am safer so. MEN AND WOMEN 641 Yet, to the reader, it is very sad to read this ' old story ' ; and I think also it was bitter to him, in spite of all. Telling lies for truth's sake, acting unfaithfully for faith's sake, are what is treated of in the ' Light Woman ' ; it is told, slight sketch though it is, in a masterly way ; perhaps we shall hear something more about it soon, judging from the last two lines : And, Robert Browning, you writer of plays. Here 's a subject made to your hand ! ' Before ' and ' After ', are rather parts of the same poem, than separate poems. ' Before,' written in a splendid fighting measure, is spoken by a by-stander, just before a duel : Usten, here ! Why, you would not bid men, sunk in such a slough, Striie no arm out further, stick and stink as now. Leaving right and wrong to settle the embroilment. Heaven with snaky hell, in torture and entoilment ? Which of them 's the culprit, how must he conceive God 's the queen he caps to, laughing in his sleeve ! 'Tis but decent to profess oneself beneath her — Still, one must not be too much in earnest either. Better sin the whole sin, sure that God observes. Then go live his life out ! life will try his nerves. When the sky which noticed all, makes no disclosure. And the earth keeps up her terrible composure. Let him pace at pleasure, past the walls of rose. Pluck their fruits when grape-trees graze him as he goes ; For he 'gins to guess the purpose of the garden. With the sly mute thing beside there for a warden. What 's the leopard-dog-thmg, constant to his side, A leer and lie in every eye on its obsequious hide ? When will come an end of all the mock obeisance. And the price appear that pays for this misfeasance ? Yes, truly so ! the one poisoning sin in a' man's life, never to leave him in the midst of his dearly- bought pleasures ; he has gone wrong once, and the chance of his turning back is desperate indeed ; all his life is a Ue now, with that terrible unrepented sin lying on him. Did ever any of you read Hawthorne's ' Scarlet Letter ' ? Then for his adversary : — So much for the culprit ? Who 's the martyr'd man ? Let him 'bear one stroke more, for bo sure he can. Him that strove thus evils lump with good to leaven. Let him give his blood at last and get his heaven. Yet with neither wronger nor wronged has it come to this yet ; MOKRIS rp ^ 642 MEN AND WOMEN death may equalize it somewhat : so in ' After ', this has indeed happened. I quote it entire without comment : Take the cloak from his face, and at first Let the corpse do its worst — How he lies in the rights of a man ! Death has done all death can. And absorb'd in the new life he leads, He recks not, he heeds Nor his wrong nor my vengeance — both strike On his senses ahke. And are lost in the solemn and strange Surprise of the change. Ha! what avails death to erase His offence, my disgrace ? I would we were boys as of old In the field, by the fold ; — His outrage, God's patience, man's scorn. Were so easily borne. I stand here now, — he lies in his place — Cover the face. I think these two among the most perfect short poems that Robert Browning has written, as perfect in their way as ' Evelyn Hope ' among tlie love-poems. ' Childe Roland,' — how grand that is ! some reviewer thinks it an ' allegory ', and rates the poet for not having told us what happened to Childe Roland inside the ' round, squat turret '. Well, it may in some sort be an allegory, for in a certam sense everything is so, or almost everything that is done on this earth. But that is not its first meaning ; neither, as some people think, was it wi'itten for the sake of the fearful pictures merely, or even principally ; they, grand as they are, the grandest things of the kind that I have ever read, are yet only a means to an end ; for the poet's real design was to show us a brave man doing his duty, making his way on to his point through all dreadful things. What do all these horrors matter to him ? he must go on, they cannot stop him ; he will be slain certainly, who knows by what unheard-of death ; yet he can leave all this in God's hands, and go forward, for it will all come right at the end. And has not Robert Browning shown us this well ? Do you not feel as you read, a strange sympathy for the lonely knight ? so very, very lonely ; not allowed even the fellowship of kindly memories : I shut my eyes and turn'd them on my heart. As a man calls for wine before he fights, I ask'd one draught of earlier, happier sights Ere fitly I could hope to play my part. Think first, fight afterwards — the soldier's art : One taste of the old times sets all to rights ! MEN AND WOMEN 643 Not it ! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face Beneath its garniture of curly gold. Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold An arm in mhie to fix me to tlie place That way he used. Alas ! one night's disgrace ! Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold. Better this present than a past like that- Back therefore to my darkening path again. Yet, for all this utter loneliness, for all these horrors, so subtly has the consummate poet wrought, through the stately flow of the magnificent rhythm, that we do not feel desponding, but rather triumphant, at the glorious end ; an end so glorious, that the former life, whatever it was, was well worth living with that to crown it ; and it was well too for the poet to leave us there, so that we 'see not the mere struggle of physical courage, or the mere groans and tears of suffering humanity under those things which are to be borne indeed, but hardly ever very calmly, hardly ever very resignedly ; but now ' Childe Roland ' passes straight from our eyes to the place where the true and brave live for ever ; and as far as we go, his life flows out triumphantly with that blast he blew. And was it not well to leave us with that snatch of old song ringing through our ears like the very horn-blast that echoed all about the windings of that dismal valley of death ? I saw them and I knew them all ; and yet Dauntless the stag-horn to my lips I set. And blew : ' Childe Roland to the dark tower came '. In my own heart I think I love this poem the best of all in these volumes. And yet I scarcely know ; for this and all the others seem to me but a supplement to the love-poems, even as it is in all art, in all life ; love I mean of some sort ; and that life or art where this is not the case, is but a wretched mistake after all. And in these love-poems of Robert Browning there is one thing that struck me particularly ; that is their intense, unmixed love; love for the sake of love, and if that is not obtained, disappointment comes, falling-ofif, misery. I suppose the same kind of thing is to be fomid in all very earnes't love-poetry, but I think more in him than in almost anybody else. ' Any wife to any husband,' ' The last ride together,' — read them, and I think you will see what I mean. I cannot say it clearly, it cannot be said so but in verse ; love for love's sake, the only true love, I must say. — Pray Christ some of us attain to it before we die ! Yet after all I am afraid I shall be able to say less about these love-poems than the others. T t 2 644 MEN AND WOMEN ' Evelyn Hope ' is quite perfect in its way ; Tennyson himself has written nothing more beautiful ; it is easy to be understood ; very simple, everybody must like it : so full of faith and quiet manly tenderness, hopeful and brave ; a very jewel set in the gold of the poet's crown. I must quote a little : I claim you still, for my own love's sake, Delay'd it may be for more lives yet Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few : Much is to learn and much to forget Ere the time be come for taking you. But the time will come, — at last it will, When, Evelyn Hope, what meant, I shall say. In the lower earth, in the years long still. That body and soul so pure and gay ? Why your hair was amber, I shall divine. And your mouth of your own geranium's red — And what you would do with me, in fine. In the new life come in the old one's stead. I have lived, I shall say, so much since then, Given up myself so many times, Gain'd me the gains of various men, Ransack'd the ages, spoU'd the climes ; Yet one thing, one in my soul's full scope, Either I miss'd or itself miss'd me — And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope ! What is the issue ? let us see ! I loved you, Evelyn, all the while ; My heart seem'd full as it could hold — There was place and to spare for the frank young smile. And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold : So, hush ! I will give you this leaf to keep; See, I shut it inside the sweet cold hand. There, that is our secret ! go to sleep ; You will wake, and remember, and understand. Do you not see them there, in the darkened room, — the wdse, learned, world- worn man hanging over the fair, dead girl, who ' perhaps had scarcely heard his name ' ? Coming close to ' Evelyn Hope ' is ' A Woman's Last Word ', and almost as beautiful as that : Be a god and hold me With a charm — Be a man, and fold me With thine arm ! Teach me, only teach. Love ! As I ought I will speak thy speech, Love, Think thy thought. MEN AND WOMEN 645 Meet, if thou require it. Both demands, Laying flesh and spirit In thy hands ! That shall be to-morrow Not to-night : I must bury sorrow Out of sight. Must a little weep. Love ! Foolish me ! And so fall asleep, Love, Loved by thee. Is it not perfect in thought as in music ? and does it not illustrate what I said just now about the intense passion of these poems ? So does this next one that I come to, ' By the Fireside.' It is the history of a life of love, that life which first began- by the chapel there in Italy ; all things to this man, past, present, and to come, are centred in that one fact : I am named and known by that hour's feat. There took my station and degree. So grew my own small life complete As nature obtain'd her best of me — One born to love you, sweet ! It reminds me a good deal of Tennyson in parts, of ' Maud ' especially ; but I suppose that is the effect of its melody ; it is all told in such sweet, half-mournful music, as though in com- passion to those who have not obtained this love, who will not obtain it while they live on earth, though they may in heaven. Such love too is in it for the beautiful country where the new life came to him : Oh ! woman-country, woo'd, not wed ; Loved all the more by earth's male-lands. Laid to their hearts instead. Such pictures of the fair autumn-tide : Oh ! the sense of the yellow mountain-flowers. And the thorny balls, each three in one. The chestnuts throw on our path in showers. For the drop of the woodland fruit 's begun. These early November hours. I like it one of the best of all. ' The Statue and the Bust ' is a story, a sad story too. Unlaw- ful love that was never acted, but thought only, thought through life ; yet were the lovers none the less sinners, therefore ; rather 646 MEN AND WOMEN the more, in that they were cowards ; for in thought they indulged their love freely, and no fear of God, no hate of wrong or love of right restrained them, but only a certain cowardly irresolution. So Robert Browning thinks : So ! while these wait the trump of doom ! How do their spirits pass, I wonder. Nights and days in the narrow room ? Still, I suppose, they sit and ponder What a gift life was, ages ago. Six steps out of the chapel yonder. Surely they see not God, I know. Nor all that chivalry of His, The soldier-saints, who, row on row, Burn upward each to his point of bliss — Since the end of life being manifest, Ho had cut his way through the world to this. I cannot tell the story, you must read it ; it is one of the best in the two volumes : the rhythm so wonderfully suited to the story, it draws you along through the days and years that the lovers passed in delay, so quietly, swiftly, smoothly. Here is another, ' The last ride together ; ' one disappointed in his best hopes of love, looking on the whole world struggling so, with calm hopeless eyes ; so calm, though not altogether miser- able. There is no need for him to struggle now he thinks ; he has failed ; that is enough, failed as all others fail : he is not worse off than his fellows. Meanwhile she is riding with him ; the present is somewhat blissful ; moreover he says : Who knows what 's fit for us ? Had fate Proposed bliss here should sublimate My being ; had I signed the bond — Still one must lead some life beyond. Have a bliss to .die with, dim-descried. This foot once planted on the goal. This glory-garland round my soul. Could I descry such ? Try and test ! I sink back shuddering from the quest — • Earth being so good, would heaven seem best ? Now, Heaven, and she are beyond this ride. Then over him comes a strange feeling — he does not know — it is all so blissful, so calm : ' She has not spoke so long,'^ — suppose it be that it was Heaven now at this moment. What if we still ride on, we two. With life for ever old, yet new. Changed not in kind but in degree. The instant made eternity — And Heaven just prove that I and she Ride, ride together, for ever ride ? MEN AND WOMEN 647 ' In a Balcony ' is a strango poem, hard to make out at first % and for my part, I am not at all sure that I apprehend it rightly. It seems to me, that Constance and Norbert, being cowardly, did at first intend merely to deceive the queen, then, that Constance, moved by the poor woman's joy at her supposed lover, and by her unexpected declaration of affection for herself, really intended to sacrifice her love to the queen ; but that Norbert's sick fear, his wild passionate terror, overcomes her, and their love is declared, with who knows what fate in store for them ; but it is all intricate and dilBcult — like human action. ' Women and roses' I must mention, seeing that some reviewer thinks it impossible to solve the riddle of it. I will try, not thinking it so very difficult either. Some man thinking, dreaming of women, they fall into three bands — those that have been, those that are, those that will be ; but with neither of these bands can he feel entire sympathy. He cannot enter into the heart of them ; their very vividness of face and form draws his heart away from their souls, and so they seem to him cold and unloving. It certainly does not sound very well as I have put it ; in fact it does not often help poems much to solve them, because there are in poems so many exquisitely small and delicate turns of thought running through their music, and along with it, that cannot be done into prose, any more than the infinite variety of form, and shadow, and colour in a great picture can be rendered by a coloured woodcut. Which (in the case of the poem) is caused, I suppose, by its being concentrated thought. I quote some of this poem (' Women and roses ') : — I dream of a red-rose tree. And whicli of its roses three Is the dearest rose to me ? Round and round, like a dance of snow In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go Floating the women, faded for ages. Sculptured in stone, on the poet's pages. Then follow the women, fresh and gay. Living and loving, and loved to-day. Last, in the rear, flee the multitude of maidens. Beauties unborn : and all, to one cadence, They circle the rose on my rose-tree. Very worthily are the love-poems crowned by the final dedica- tion to E. B. B. I quote the last four lines : Oh their Rafael of the dear Madonnas, Oh, their Dante of the dread Inferno, Wrote one song — and in my brain I sing it ; Drew one angel — borne, see, on my bosom ! 648 MEN AND WOMEN Pardon me, reader, that I have said little about many of the best poems ; that I have said nothing at all about several ; nothing about the ecstasy of prayer and love in ' Saul ' ; nothing about the sacrifice of life, and its enjoyments, to knowledge in the ' Grammarian's Funeral ' ; nothing about the passionate ' Lover's Quarrel ', about ' Mesmerism ', ' Any wife to any husband ', and many others. My consolation is, that we shall have a good deal more to say of Robert Browning in this Magazine, and then we can make amends. Yet a few words, and I have done. For, as I wrote this, many times angry indignant words came to my lips, which stopped my writing till I could be quieter. For I suppose, reader, that you see whereabouts among the poets I place Robert Browning ; high among the poets of all time, and I scarce know whether first, or second, in our own : and it is a bitter thing to me to see the way in which he has been received by almost everybody ; many having formed a certain theory of their own about him, from reading, I suppose, some of the least finished poems among tlie ' Dramatic Lyrics ', make all facts bend to this theory, after the fashion of theory-mongers : they think him, or say they think him, a careless man, writing down anyhow anything that comes into his head. Oh truly ! 'The statue and the bust ' shows this! or the soft solemn flow of that poem, ' By the Fireside ' ! ' Para- celsus ' ! — that, with its wonderful rhythm, its tender sadness, its noble thoughts, must have been very easy to write, surely ! Then they say, too, that Browning is so obscure as not to be understood by any one. Now, I know well enough what they mean by ' obscure ', and I know also that they use the word wrongly ; meaning difficult to understand fully at first reading, or, say at second reading, even : yet, taken so, in what a cloud of obscurity would ' Hamlet ' be ! Do they think this to be the case ? they daren't say so at all events, though I suspect some of them of thinking so. Now, I don't say that Robert Browning is not sometimes really obscure. He would be a perfect poet (of some calibre or other) if he were not ; but I assert, fearlessly, that this obscurity is seldom so prominent as to make his poems hard to understand on this ground : while, as to that which they call obscurity, it results from depth of thought, and greatness of subject, on the poet's part, and on his readers' part, from their shalloAver brains and more bounded knowledge ; nay, often I fear from mere wanton ignorance and idleness. So I believe that, though this obscurity, so called, would indeed be very objectionable, if, as some seem to think, poetry is merely a department of ' light literature ' ; yet, if it is rather one of the very grandest of all God's gifts to men, we must not MEN AND WOMEN 649 think it hard if we have sometimes to exercise thought over a great poem, nay, even sometimes the utmost straining of all our thoughts, an agony almost equal to that of the poet who created the poem. However, this accusation against Browning of carelessness, and consequent roughness in rhythm, and obscurity in language and thought, has come to be pretty generally believed ; and people, as a rule, do not read him ; this evil spreading so, tliat many, almost unconsciously, are kept from reading him, who, if they did read, would sympathize with him thoroughly. But it was always so ; it was so with Tennyson when he first published his poems ; it was so last year with Maud ; it is so with Ruskin ; they petted him indeed at first ; his wonderful eloquence having some effect even upon the critics ; but, as his circle grew larger and larger, embracing more and more ti'uth, they more and more fell off from him ; his firm faith in right they call arrogance and conceit now ; his eager fighting with falsehood and wrong they call unfairness. I wonder what they will say to his new volume. The story of the Pre-Raphaelites — we all know that, only here, thank Heaven ! the public has chosen to judge for itself somewhat, though to this day their noblest pictures are the least popular. Yes, I wonder what the critics would have said to ' Hamlet Prince of Denmark', if it had been first published by Messrs. Chapman & Hall in the year 1855. POEMS BY DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI ^ {The Academy, May 14, 1870) Ten years ago with the publication of his beautiful and scholarly volume of translations from the early Italian poets, Mr. Rossetti annoimced the preparation of a volume of original poems. This book, so eagerly looked for by those who knew the author by his great works in painting, has now been given to the xDublic ; nor is it easy to exaggerate the value and im- portance of that gift, for the book is complete and satisfactory from end to end ; and in spite of the intimate connexion between one art and another, it is certainly to be wondered at, that a master in the supremely difficult art of pamting should have qualities which enable him to deal with the other supremely difficult one of poetry : and to do this not only with the utmost ' London : Ellis, 1870. 650 POEMS BY depth of feeling and thought, but also with the most complete and unfaltering mastery over its material ; that he should find in its limitations and special conditions, not stumbling-blocks or fetters, but just so many pleasures, so much whettmg of invention and imagination. In no poems is the spontaneous and habitual interpenetration of matter and manner, which is the essence of poetry, more complete than in these. An original and subtile beauty of execution expresses the deep mysticism of thought, which in some form and degree is not wanting certainly to any poets of the modem school, but which in Mr. Rossetti's work is both great in degree and passionate in kind ; nor in him has it any tendency to lose itself amid allegory or abstractions ; indeed, instead of turning human life into symbols of thmgs vague and not understood, it rather gives to the very symbols the personal life and variety of mankind. No poem m this book is without the circle of this realiziiig mysticism, which deals wonderingly with all real things that can have poetic life given them by passion, and refuses to have to do with any mvisible things that in the wide scope of its imagination cannot be made perfectly distinct and poetically real. Of all turns of mind this must be the fittest to give the concentration and intensity necessary for lyrical works, and the corresponding patience and untiring energy to carry them out : nothing but this could have given us the magnificent collection of sonnets at the end of this volume, which, though there are some among upwards of eighty that are not free from obscurity, the besetting vice of sonnets, are never- theless unexampled in the English language since Shakespeare's for depth of thought, and skill and felicity of execution. A mediocre sonnet is more hateful to gods and men than any other versified mediocrity, a crabbed one is harder to read than any other form of crabbed verse ; and complete success is not common even when the thought is not over deep ; but to express some deep piece of thought or feeling completely and with beauty in the narrow limits of fourteen lines, and in such a way that no line should be useless or barren of some reflex of the mam idea ; to leave the due impression of the whole thought on the mind by the weight and beauty of the ending ; and to do all this without losing simplicity, without affectation of any kind, and witli exquisite choiceness of diction and rhyme, is as surely a very great achievement, and among the things most worth doing, as it is exceedingly rare to find done. But few of these sonnets fall short of this highest standard ; and they seem withal the most natural and purest expression of the peculiar mysticism spoken of above. Two poems are to be named here, as having in them much of the feeling of the strongest of the sonnets, with a sweetness and simplicity of their own, ' A Little DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI 651 While', and 'The Sea Limits'; the completeness with which the thought is grasped, amid its delicate flux and reflux from stanza to stanza, is very characteristic of Mr. Rossetti's best work. ' Love's Nocturn ' classes itself with these and the sonnets also. It is a veiy beautiful and finished piece of work, and full of subtle melody, but sometimes obscure with more than the obscurity of the dreamy subject, and sometimes with a certain sense of over labour in it. Both these faults may be predicated also of a poem of the same class, ' The Stream's Secret,' which nevertheless is wonderfully finished, and has very high musical qualities, and a certain stateliness of movement about it which coming among its real and deep feeling makes it very telling and impressive. Among pieces where the mystical feeling is by necessity of subject most simple and most on the surface, ' The Blessed Damozel ' should be noticed, a poem m which wild longing, and the shame of life, and despair of separation, and the worship of love, are wrought into a palpable dream, in which the heaven that exists as if for the sake of fihe beloved is as real as the earthly things about the lover, while these are scarcely less sti'ange or less pervaded with a sense of his passion, than the things his imagination has made. The poem is as jjrofoundly sweet and touching and natural as any in the book, that is to say, as any in the whole range of modem poetry. At first sight the leap from this poem to the ' Jenny ' may seem very great, but there is in fact no break in the unity of the mind that imagmed both these poems ; rather one is the necessary com- plement to the other. The subject is diflicult for a modem poet to deal with, but necessary for a man to think of ; it is thought of here with the utmost depths of feeling, pity, and insight, with no mawkishness on the one hand, no coarseness on the other : and carried out with perfect simplicity and beautyo It is so strong, unforced, and full of nature, that I think it the poem of the whole book that would be most missed if it were away. With all this, its very simplicity and directness make it hard to say much about it: but it may be noticed, as leading to the consideration of one side of Mr. Rossetti's powers, how perfectly the dramaMc quality of the soliloquiser is kept : his pity, his protest against the hardness of nature and chance never make him didactic, or more or less than a man of the world, any more than his ' Shame of his own shame ' makes him brutal, though in the inevitable flux and reflux of feeling and habit and pleasure he is always seeming on the verge of touching one or other of these extremes. How admirably, too, the conclusion is managed with that dramatic breaking of day, and the effect that it gives to the chilling of enthusiasm and remorse, which 652 POEMS BY it half produces and is half typical of ; coming after the grand passage about lust that brings to a climax the musings over so much beauty and so many good things apparently thrown away causelessly. The dramatic quality of Mr. Rossetti's work has just been mentioned, which brings one to saying that, though it seemed necessary to dwell so strongly on the mystical and intensely lyrical side of his poems, they bear with them signs of the highest dramatic power, whatever its future application may be. This is shown not merely in the vivid picturing of external scenes — as that of the return of the humbled exiles to Florence in the noble poem of ' Dante at Verona ' — but more conclusively still in the steady purpose running through all those poems in which character or action, however lyrical, is dealt with ; in ripeness of plan, and in the congruity of detail with which they are wrought out ; all this, of course, m addition to their imaginative qualities. This is well seen in ■' Sister Helen % which is, in fact, a ballad (the form of poem of all others in which, when it is complete, the lyrical and dramatic sides of art are most closely connected), and in which the wild and picturesque surrovmdings, and the growmg force of the tremendous burden, work up surely and most impressively to the expected but still startling end, the effect of which, as almost always in Mi'. Rossetti's poems, is not injured by a word too much. As widely different as it may be in character of execution to this, there is the same dramatic force amidst the magnificent verses of ' Eden Bower ', where the strangest and remotest of subjects is wonderfully realized by the strength and truth of its passion, though the actors m it add supernatural characteristics to the human qualities that make it a fit subject for poetry. The ' Last Confession ', whose subject connects itself somewhat with these two last, is the poem in the book whose form is the least characteristic of Mr. Rossetti's work, the most like what is expected of a poet with strong dramatic tendencies ; it is, however, most complete and satisfactory, and the character of the man is admirably imagmed and developed, so as both to make the catastrophe likely, and to prevent it from becoming unpoetical, and just merely shocking : a character, elevated and tender and sensitive, but brooding, and made narrow both naturally and by the force of tlie continual tragedy of oppression surrounding his life ; wrought upon by the neces- saiy but unreasonable sense of wrong that his unretumed love brings him, till despair and madness, but never hate, comes from it. Well befitting such a character, but also indicating the inevitable mystical tendency of the author, as small as the indication may be, is the omen of the broken toy of Love that sheds the first blood, and that other typical incident of the altars DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTl 653 of the two Madonnas. In speaking of a book where the poems are so singularly equal in merit as this, it has been scarcely possible to do more than name the most important, and several even must remain unnamed ; but it is somethmg of a satisfaction to finish with mentioning the ' Song of the Bower', so full of passion and melody, and more like a song to be sung than any modem piece I know. To conclude, I think these lyrics, with all their other merits, the most complete of their time ; no difficulty is avoided in them — no subject is treated vaguely, languidly, or heartlessly : as there is no commonplace or second- hand thought left in them to be atoned for by beauty of execution, so no thought is allowed to overshadow that beauty of art which compels a real poet to speak in verse and not in prose. Nor do I know what lyrics of any time are to be called great if we are to deny that title to these. William Morris. I INDEX OF FIRST LINES OF POEMS A golden gilliflower to-day A life scarce worth the hvmg, a poor fame A ship with shields before the sun Across the empty garden-beds . Ah ! no, no, it is nothing, surely nothing at all Alas ! for Saturn's days of gold All day long and every day And if you meet the Canon of Chimay But as along the shore they sailed next day But, knowing now that they would have her speak But on the morrow did the Mmyse . But on the morrow did they get them gone But other watchers were there on that night But through the town few eyes were sealed by sleep But when they reached the precinct of the God Christ keep the Hollow Land Fair Ellayne she waik'd by Welland river For many, many days together Gold on her head, and gold on her feet Gold wings across the sea . Had she come all the way for this . He was fair and free Ho ! is there any will ride with me . Hot August noon — already on that day How weary is it none can tell . I could not even think I know a little garden close In Thessaly, beside the tumbling sea It is the longest night in all the year Lady Alice, Lady Louise . Midways of a walled garden Most pitiless and stark the winter grew My lady seems of ivory Night came, but still on by the stars they sailed No one goes there now .... Now, driven by the oar, and fecUng well . Now might the Mmyse hoist np to the breeze PAGE 266 611 30o 275 280 452 214 254 479 187 511 390 541 362 428 149, 164 200 302 269 290 294 177 305 196 277 242 376 313 207 283 287 467 307 440 285 380 455 656 INDEX OF FIRST LINES OF POEMS Now o'er the open sea they took their way- New the next morn, when risen was the sun Now when she woke again the bright sun glared O bitter sea, tumultuous sea death, that maketh life so sweet . evil thing, what brought thee here O happy seafarers are ye . O hearken, ye who speak the English Tongue O surely, now the fisherman winter, white winter, wert thou gone ye, who to this place have strayed Of those three prisoners, that before you came Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips Queen Mary's crown was gold , So ends the winning of the Golden Fleece So long they sat, until at last the sun So many reapers. Father John . So there they lay until the second dawn . ' Swerve to the left, son Roger,' he said . The Duke went to Treves There was a lady lived in a haU There was a lord that hight Maltete . There were four of us about that bed Therefore be it believed .... Think not of pleasure, short and vain . This castle where I dwell, it stands . Up and away through the drifting rain ! . We rode together ..... Wearily, drearily, ..... Whence comest thou, and whither goest thou ? Why do you sadly go alone ' You must be very old. Sir Giles ' . PAGE . 489 . 347 . 416 . 364 . 476 . 430 . 493 . 612 . 436 . 601 . 507 . 217 . 309 . 131 . 533 . 404 . 304 . 323 . 271 . 121 . 298 . 593 . 268 . 241 . 496 . 260 . 273 . 591 38. 310 . 604 . 607 . 264