Complete works of willia.., p.519
Complete Works of William Morris, page 519
The Holy Maiden Dorothea was slain
because of her faith, and as she was
passing to her death she was mocked
by a certain man; which mock God
rebuked in a wonderful way, so that
the mocker died as she had done.
In the old days when Rome was flourishing
And through the world there was no prince or king
But held his crown and sceptre at the will
Of him who there the golden throne did fill,
A man there dwelt of old and noble race,
Who lacked for neither wealth or reverend place,
Dorus by name; who in his you th indeed
Had led such life as young men love to lead,
But as the grey hairs one by one grew up
The false love-token and the drinking cup
He cast aside, for now in middle age
The world began to seem like some vast cage,
Barred with inevitable death about
The clinging lovers and the conquerors shout
And the great gift of life seemed small enow.
And so chanced men then began to know
Within Rome-town the true and only God,
And worship him who many a rough way trod
Ending all ways at last with shameful death;
And, as my author in the old tale saith
This Dorus came to hear the truth at last,
And often through his mind the good thought passed
That, were it true, it were no little thing
That he a weak man should be still living
In joy and peace, when all was passed away
That seemed so strong, well made to last for aye.
Which thing it was Gods will he should believe
And all the truth into his heart receive,
The Love of God the fear of sin and Hell,
The scorn of death, and all the word can tell,
And from the font he passed with soul washed clean
And wondering at the strange thing he had been.
So for five years he led a quiet life,
And in that time he took to him a wife
And two fair daughters unto him she bore,
And far more peace he knew than ere before.
But when the sixth year rose upon his head
Within his palace lay the Emperor dead,
Who was a good man and of gentle heart,
And left his folk at quiet for his part
And all was changed within a little week.
Because the new-made Emperor did seek
To win the Gods to smile upon his reign.
So soon the Tiber carried down again
Its load of wretched corpses to the sea,
And folk were haled toward perpetually,
And in the marble theatre, limb by limb
Were men and women torn for trusting Him
Who has not failed them: everywhere was cried
“The Christians to the Lions, so that we,
Our wives and babes may all live quietly.”
Awhile with trembling heart regarding it
Within his marble house did Dorus sit;
At last one night arising quietly
While the town slept, he gat him to the sea,
Bearing with him his little ones and wife,
And one tried slave he trusted with his life,
And taking ship, to Asia he passed,
And so to Cappadocia came at last;
And going inland there from the great sea
He came unto a noble fair city
Called Cesarea; where he dwelt in rest
A poor man now, but yet by none opprest
For five years more, and late in the third year
Of his sojourn his wife to him did bear
Another daughter, whom he took straightway
That Adam’s sin might clean be washed away,
Unto the bishop, and the name she had
When in her white robe she was newly clad
Was Dorothea, who in that same place
In strength and loveliness grew up apace.
But when her sixteenth year was fully come
Her father and her mother were called home,
And in a quiet place their bodies laid,
Where fearfully the burial rites were paid.
For now in Cæsarea as in Rome,
New orders from the Emperor were come
That duly Jove should now be worshipped,
Nor longer Citharea veil her head
So there was slain full many a Christian man
And crimson with their blood the channels ran.
Moreover some there were within that place
Who rather chose to live on earth a space
That life despised even by the heathen wise,
Than pass through death to joy in Paradise.
Amongst whom Dorothea’s sisters twain,
Eriste and Calliste, fearing pain,
And doubting of the happy life to come,
Reared up a little altar in their home
Unto the idols, though indeed no one
Had harmed them ought, but let them live alone.
So when they thus had given up their faith
For earthly life, then, as the old tale saith
The seven other devils came to them,
And finding them at last outside the hem
Of Christs robe, put in their hearts straigtway,
That from this earth all folk pass quick away,
And well it is to live in joyance there.
So when at night each others body fair
Each one beheld and saw herself thereby,
So tall and straight, and made so cunningly,
Then would she redden, thinking is not this,
That which all men desire past all bliss;
Does it not pass in few and doutful years,
Will bring it back; and for the lending it
Among rich things and jewels may I sit,
And men will give me love and kisses sweet,
And grovel on the ground before my feet.
So thought they to themselves, and soon for gold
Their virgin shame fast beauty had they sold;
With whom dwelt Dorothea none the less,
But as she might hiding her loveliness
From lustful eyes: and yet did God ordain
That her great beauty blossomed not in vain,
Since in the end it bore her such a crown.
Because the Emperors prefect in that town,
By name Fabricius, passing through the street
Some great lord at the city-gate to meet
Chanced to behold that virginal sweet thing
The doorway of her house just entering;
And when he saw her such a flame of love
Shot through him that he scarce had power to move
Though in one little moment she was gone:
Then turning round about, he said to one
That rode beside him, “Who dwells in that house”
“Sir” quoth his Knight, two damsels amorous
Who from the Christian folly late have turned
Because they saw some wretched damsel burned.”
“Nay truly” said the prefect, “was she such
I saw just now, that any man could touch
Her body if he lists, so seemed she not
But like a perfect maid without a spot.”
“Yea” said the other, “neither said I so,
The damsel who stood there I nowise know
Although ere now myself have had the grace
To spend some happy hours in that place,
When slaves enow I saw about the house,
None other but the sisters amorous.
And, as to her, I think that verily
Of some near kin unto them she must be;
For like to them she is, but fairer still
And lower down the right side of the hill
On the worse side whereof all beauty wanes.
Also it seems to me that whoso gains
Her lovely body, will be strong and wise
For she looks hard to win as Paradise.”
No answer made the prefect thereunto
But going forth, did that he had to do,
But never on that day could he forget
The lovely girl, and still his heart was set
On gaining her by good means or by bad.
Now in his house a certain slave he had
Faithful to him, and cunning as a slave,
To whom next morn he told what he would have;
Who straigtway went to where there dwelt the twain
Eriste and Calliste: There in vain
He waited long the coming of the maid.
Who all that day within her chamber staid
For coming evil sorely did she dread;
Though nowise conscious what above her head
Hung, ready to destroy her body sweet.
So willingly she would not show her face
Within the streets of that great wicked place.
Therefrom passed both her sisters, with their feet
Just showing from the thin and silken gown,
And many a women slave, both white and brown,
But nowhere could he see that lovely one
Fair as an angel, hooded like a nun,
With her demure, and thoughtful eyes above
The sweet red lips, that knew no kiss of love.
At last he came to think, that openly
He needs must ask if lucky he would be,
But just then came there forth a woman old,
Who peering all about did soon behold
The prefect’s slave, and said, “what dost thou here
Who by this house all day hast loitered near;
Thou art a slave, what would thy master then,
Thou knowest that my ladies hate not men.”
Then said the slave, “Mother, a fair lady,
Who dwells within this house I fain would see.”
“Nay sir,” she said Come in and wait awhile
And so with talk the time will we beguile,
For from the house my ladies twain are gone
And I am left dismal, well nigh alone.”
So in he went, and soon the two sat down
In a high room that ovelooked the town.
Then quoth the crone, And hast thou anything
Within that purse, as jewel or rich ring
What harm to show it me, for even the old
Still love to see the gleam of gems and gold.”
“Nay” said the slave “what sayest thou to this,
Is it enough to buy my lord a kiss?”
And on the board he laid five pieces down
That bare on golden sides the name and crown.
“What dost thou here,” the woman said, with these
And thinkest thou with such poor wage to please
My ladies?” “Nay my mistress certainly”
The man said, but I put them there for thee;”
Then grinned the crone and said, “Then something strange
I warrant me thou wantest in exchange.
Well, in this house full hand is aye gaining,
Say on, what wouldst thou;” “But a little thing”
He answered, “but that I might talk alone
Upon my lords part, with a certain one
That dwells here, neither of may ladies twain:
And if indeed I talk with her in vain
Still may you keep what in your hand you hold,
If she is kind to us, why then in gold
Your fingers may you glove if so you will.”
“Nay then must you and I use all our skill”
The woman said, “for truly she is such
A thunderbolt would hardly move her much
If she had will to set out any where.
She is the sister of my ladies fair
The children are they of one dam & sire
But she is like them as the sun a fire.
And though far fairer is she than are they
Patient and simple goes she on her way
Longing for nought nor wishful to be seen:
And besides all she thinks the Nazarene
Is or will be the master of all things.
And those that serve him will be more than kings
When thy are dead; alas if I could think
Such things as these who am upon the brink
Of evil death, and my most cherished joys
Are less to be desired than the toys
My elders laughed to see me play withal
So long ago by the vine covered wall
Before my very hopes began to spring
That now have made this old wretched thing –
You laugh, ah, I forgot; but for your gold
This wonderful young thing you shall behold.
But little hope have I of any more
And surely she will try your patience sore” –
Therewith she went out quickly from the place,
And left him waiting with a smiling face
And counting up the gold that he should get
If in his masters arms the maid he set.
But even his sluggish heart within him burned
When leading that sweet thing the crone returned,
So sweet she was, and gentle as the spring,
As with her young face pale, and lips trembling
For fear of evil stealing over her,
She spoke, and said, “What wouldst thou with me, Sir?”
“Lady,” he said I fain would speak with thee
Alone, if so thou wouldst will it so to be.
“So be it” she said, but make no long delay,
Because I fear what thou mayast have to say.”
Therewith she turned round softly to the crone
And in the place those two were left alone.
Then said the man “Why dost thou tremble so;
For now, O lady, if thou hast a woe
This day and hour will end it certainly:
My lord the Prefect pineth sore for thee,
And bids me give these things into thy hands,
Wise men have drawn together from all lands,
And brave men snatched from crown of Prince & King,
Bids me too say, this is a little thing
To that which he will do for thee henceforth,
There is a green vale sheltered from the north,
That he has walled about from hill to hill,
There has he gather every stream and rill
Into a river lined with marble white,
That runs through gardens made for all delight
About the marvellous house that he has made
And at the back are woods with many a glade.
There shalt thou dwell, he says, from day to day
And have all things that any mortal may;
And neither shalt thou pass thy life alone
For there of slaves shalt thou have many an one,
Both foul and fair to deal with as thou wilt
Nor shall a deed of thine be held for guilt.
And thither will my lord come day by day
with lords and dames to pass the time away,
And honour thee as far as in him lies.”
Silent sat Dorothea, to her eyes
Gathering the tears that soon began to fall,
And sobbing she turned round unto the wall,
Moaning. “O Lord, and now the day is come,
When thou wouldst have me taken to thy home,
Why do I feel so full of misery
That little of thy glory I can see;
Why do I faint, and weep so sore for this
Surely I am not meet to share thy bliss.”
Then spoke the slave. “Lady, has thou not heard
And has my master spoken a light word.
Why weepest thou to hear this joyous thing
That thou shalt live as Queen of a great King?”
Then round she turned to him with gasping breath
And said “O man thou will bring me my death;
And though indeed my death will bring me life,
And give me deep rest after pain and strife.
Yet is my weak heart fain to linger here
Where many things I find both sweet and dear
And full strange things for I am young enow
And may a hidden thing have I to know.”
“What did I say of death,” then quoth the slave.
If thou within thy hands these things wouldst have,
I have been bidden to bring here for thee
All thoughts of death right far away would be.
For would he give to one that he loved not
Such things few princes in their crowns have got?”
“Nay, in your gems,” she said, “there lies the threat
As in the olive wreath of old was set
The grinded sword: leave me and let me be
For I would weep alone and silently
The remnant of my life.”
Then straight he fell
Upon his knees, and still to her did tell
The prefect’s love, and all that he would do.
“In that place,” said he, “none would know of you
And if you still hold to the Nazarene
Of all Gods else the Palace should be clean.
For he will think it good enough for him
To worship there thy body limb by limb.
So thou shalt have thy faith, and bliss also,
Upon this earth, if this thing thou wilt do.”
“Alas” she said, “and when wilt thou be done.
Dost thou then think our God is such an one
Be gone I pray, and leave this foolishness,
For I will hearken neither more nor less.”
“Yea lady,” said he, I will go away,
But I may carry on some other day
Far other words than these.”
Then on her brow
There came a frown, she said, “Thou sayest it now.
Truly today thy threat is little hid.
And now this message to thy lord bid.
That in a city once there dwelt a King
Who would be wed, and had a certain ring
So wrought, that whoso gat it on her hand,
Were she the fairest thing in all the land,
And seeming perfect, body soul and limb,
Nevertheless it would be known to him
If she had sinned: now therefore many an one
Fair as they were the wise Kings bed did shun:
At last came one who in most secret wise
Had wrought her sins, arrayed in royal guise
But on her finger was there set the ring
And she began to babble everything
