Complete works of willia.., p.317
Complete Works of William Morris, page 317
But louder still the noise he hearkened grew,
Until at last in sight the Centaur drew,
A mighty grey horse, trotting down the glade,
Over whose back the long grey locks were laid,
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.
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 Aeson’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,
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.
Lay now between my arms the noble child.
SO the slave joyful, but still half afraid,
Within the mighty arms young Jason laid,
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 Iolchos 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
That Chiron said. Right glad was Aeson then
That from his loins a great man among men
Should thus have sprung; and so he passed his days
Full quietly, remote from fear or praise.
BUT memory of the day still Pelias bore,
When from the altar’s very horns he tore
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
In Juno’s temple; so he feared indeed
That he, the king, the Earth-begider’s seed,
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.
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,
Gave forth this answer to the doubtful king:
O 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
Beset with guards: a terror to hip folk
He grew to be, and grinding was his yoke.
AND yet indeed were all these things but vain,
For at the foot of Pelion waxed his bane,
And day by day fairer he was to sight,
And swiftly grew in manhood and in might:
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
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
Full off 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 would 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
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
Such sweetness through the woods, that all about
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 crooked 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
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.
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 Actæon bleed;
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,
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. O, my queen ! said he,
Fair Goddess, as thou seemest well to be,
Give me good days and peace, and maiden’s love,
And let great kings send out their sons to rove;
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
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 Iolchos, 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,
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, faint, and dim;
And when a fresh gust of the morning breeze
Came murmuring along the forest trees,
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 thinking 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
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 didst see.
Late in the greenwood certainly was she
Who sits in heaven beside Almighty Jove,
And noble things they do that have her love.
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 are 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,
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, sudden, cold, and blind,
‘Twixt gorges of the mountains, and drove back
The light sea breeze; then waxed the heavens coal-black,
Until the lightning leapt from cloud to cloud,
With clattering thunder, and the piled-up crowd
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 could make a pleasant bed
For the spent limbs, and dreamy, languid head
Of sandalled nymph, forewearied with the chase.
Meanwhile, within a pleasant lighted place,
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.
LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON: 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 and fresh o’er glittering glade and lawn;
Then Jason rose, and did on him a fair
Blue woollen tunic, such as folk do wear
On the Magnesian cliffs, and at his thigh
He hung a short-sword and a knife thereby;
His head was covered with a russet hood;
And in his hand two spears of cornel-wood
Well steeled and bound with brazen bands he shook.
Then from the Centaur’s hands at last he took
The tokens of his birth, the ring and horn,
And so stept forth into the sunny morn,
And bade farewell to Chiron, and set out
With eager heart, that held small care or doubt.
So lightly through the well-known woods he passed,
And out into the open plain at last,
And went till night came on him, and then slept
Within a homestead that a poor man kept;
And rose again at dawn, and slept that night
Nigh the Anaurus, and at morrow’s light
Rose up and went unto the river’s brim;
But fearful seemed the passage unto him,
For swift and yellow drave the stream adown
‘Twixt crumbling banks; and tree-trunks rough 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
To see if help was nigh, and heard a voice
Behind him, calling out, Fair youth, rejoice
That I am here to help, or else meseems
Long mightst thou dwell beside these summer streams.
Then Jason turned round quickly, and beheld
A woman, bent with burdens, and with eld,
Grey and broad shouldered; so he laughed, and said:
O mother, wilt thou help me? by my head,
More help than thine I need upon this day.
O son, she said, needs must thou on thy way;
And is there any of the giants here
To bear thee through this water without fear?
Take, then the help a God has sent to thee,
For in mine arms a small thing shalt thou be.
So Jason laughed no more, because a frown
Gathered upon her brow, as she cast down
Her burden to the earth, and came a-nigh,
And raised him in her arms, and bore him high,
And stept adown into the water cold.
There with one arm the hero did she hold,
And with the other thrust the whirling trees
Away from them; and laughing, and with ease
Went through the yellow foaming stream, and came
Unto the other bank; and little shame
Had Jason that a woman carried him,
For no man, howsoever strong of limb,
Had dared across that swollen flood to go,
But if he wished the Stygian stream to know;
Therefore he doubted not, that with some God
Or reverend Goddess that rough way he trod.
SO when she had clomb up the slippery bank
And let him go, well-nigh adown he sank,
For he was dizzy with the washing stream,
And with that passage mazed as with a dream.
But, turning round about unto the crone,
He saw not her, but a most glorious one,
A seeming woman, blue-clad, glistering
With something more than gold, crowned like the king
Of all the world, and holding in her hand
A jewelled rod. So when he saw her stand
With unsoiled feet scarce touching the wet way,
He trembled sore, but therewith heard her say:
O JASON, such as I have been to thee
Upon this day, such ever will I be;
And I am Juno; therefore doubt thou not
A mighty helper henceforth thou hast got
Against the swords and bitter tongues of men,
