Complete works of willia.., p.531
Complete Works of William Morris, page 531
To drag him down. Silent at last he smiled
And to himself he said; ‘Joy hath beguiled
Their blind hearts that they look not to the end,
And that indeed I pray the Gods to send
Kindly upon them, that they may not rue
The day they trusted me; for kind and true
The hearts of these are, neither do I think
That that folk shall come to hate me, though they shrink
As I shall shrink not.
But e’en therewithal
A messenger there came into the hall
Who cried aloud, that, come unto the gate
Folk from Arcadia for their will did wait
To wot if they might have good hearing now
Of the chief men, for great things would they show;
So they were bidden in, and straightway came,
A great train; many of them known by name
To the young chief, whom now they did behold
With no small marvel; fair gleamed out the gold
On robe and head of them, for they were clad
As though great dealings with great Kings they had,
Not with the unruly shockhead youth, that they
Awhile ago would pass by in the way
Warily in good sooth and yet with scorn:
Since certes then tomorrow was unborn.
Amidst all these and with a strange sharp gleam
Of the past days that so far off did seem,
The chief’s eyes met the bright eyes of a youth
Who smiled up at him, e’en as if in truth
Those days had been no dream; slim and right fair
He was to look on; eager-faced, his hair
Twixt brown and golden, and his eyes brown too;
Too great a mans son was he erst to do
Much in the worst deeds that those youths had done
Yet in their company did he count one,
And was much honoured his name
And of a great Arcadian house he came.
Ever he seemed a youth of gentle ways
And kindly, and would go about to praise
Rough Aristomenes e’en as he might,
And do his utmost, wrongs of his to right,
And as one pained would put off mocks from him.
A little while the heroe’s eyes waxed dim,
As though regret had not all left his soul;
But upward then a mighty shout did roll
Shaking the dusty beams to welcome these,
For sure folk deemed they brought their cause increase.
Then spake the first man of them:
“Friends made free
Good men of fair Messenia, here with me,
I bear a message from the Arcadian land,
So tell me prithee to whose ear or hand
I shall deliver it; which saith no less
Than, that our folk behold your happiness
With joy for you, and knowing therewithal
That Sparta doth but wait her time to fall
Upon Arcadia, fain the time would take
Ere it is flown, and with your stout hearts make
Trusty alliance both in fold and field
That each to each may be fair sword & shield
Gainst Sparta: If ye deem the offer good,
Not long we grey-beards shall rub hood gainst hood
And talk of what shall be: certes I think
In the good town I heard the hammers clink
On other gear than cooking-pots; and sooth
About the streets was many a likely youth
Who in his sister’s hands had left the crook.”
Again in answer the old rooftree shook
And then old Damis stood forth & did cry
For silence, and a little company
Of elders was behind him; in his hand
Somewhat he held silk-covered, and a wand
Silk-covered too: he said
“Arcadian friends
With great strides in these later days time wends;
For your good will, O neighbours certainly
We looked, but wotted not when we should see
The word ye bring: so are we met today
The greatest weight upon one head to lay
And are the gladder ye are witnesses
To this our will. O Aristomenes,
Too full the days are filled with weighty things
That we should beat about to find us kings
If no one here were by so much the best
That we a kingless company might rest;
But now nought have we got to choose at all
For on thine head the power of Jove doth fall
Will we or will we not: of royal seed
Thou art; stretch forth thine hand then in our need
O child of Aepitus, and take this crown,
And staff that neath the moon I dug deep down
In Ira on that night of all despair!
Nought is it that the things are rich and fair,
Little that they are hallowed by the touch
Of brave men dead; nay hardly is it much
That with them go the worship & the trust
Of all our hearts: we do but as we must.”
Amid the thundering shout that followed then
He raised aloft before the eyes of men
A gemmed crown glistening, and an ivory rod
Gold-bound and meet it seemed for any God,
That once had swayed Messenia; felt
His heart beat quick and high, as his friend dwelt
Smiling a moment, with and unchanged cheek
And merry eye waiting till he might speak;
At last he stooped adown and from his feet
Lifted his bright steel helm & cried:
“O sweet,
To think that I this day am well beloved,
To think that through me this great folk is moved
To freedom and to glory! nor say I
But I may hold this sceptre verily
In days to come: if ye shall need me then
When ye are living free and peaceful men
With nought to fear; as surely as I deem
That in those days to most folk I shall seem
Worth no reward but love for that wherein
I loved my folk – but now is all to win –
Look you, that headpiece that ye show me now,
Is it as meet a thing to ward the blow
Of Sparta, as thing, that glitters too
When dint of sword shakes off the morning dew?
This ivory staff ye offer, will it hold
Nor fall atwain when rank gainst rank is rolled,
Like this? – that no unhandy smith hath made,
Pommel and hilts and guard and shapely blade!”
The helm was on his head now and the sword
Gleamed in his right hand as he spake the word,
A God new-born he seemed to all that tide,
As from amid the tumult a voice cried;
“Name thine own name then; we are nought but thine
Whateer folk call thee shalt thou be divine!
How shall we speak against thee?”
“O fair friends,”
He said, “till all the war and trouble ends,
Till my life ends – if so be while I live
Aught for your need these hands this heart may give –
Call me the Captain of your Hosts; and gaze
With such looks on me in those other days
When all seems tottering – that we may not part
Save by the stroke of death!”
From every heart
Forth leapt the cry, “Hail Captain of our Host!,”
And oer the upturned faces, weapons tossed
Gleamed in the white sun. Then the Captain turned
Unto the guests;
“Sirs,” said he, “ye have learned
How this folk trusts my youth – but for your part
Doubt not that ye are dear unto our heart
And that we hope great things from this your aid.
Now by my counsel were all due things paid
Unto the Gods, the oaths ye came to swear
Sworn fittingly: then to speech fall we here
That we know all wisdom that ye have,
Since mighty things, meseems, there are to save.”
So to Jove’s temple through the press they went
In solemn wise; but on the way he leant
Towards and said softly:
“Art thou glad,
Or dost thou deem the world and I are mad,
And that I sell my youth and bliss too cheap;
What sayst thou fellow; wilt thou laugh or weep?”
For cheek was flushed and to his eyes
Somewhat like tears there seemed indeed to rise
And his lip quivered; yet he smiled withal
As now he answered; “Surely may I call
Thy lot the happiest lot eer told in tale;
And if it might be that I could avail
To share it somewhat, what wouldst thou say then?”
The Captain’s face grew grave: “Among all men
I should choose thee belike – yet scarce know why –
Though thou art kind; and thine heart aimeth high
And thou art fain a life of fame to live –
Come now, if so thou willest, we will strive
To hold together till the end of all;
Belike as into loneliness we fall
Each to the other through dull days shall be
The glimmering light whereby we each may see
The joy and promise of the bygone days
Ere into many dark & doubtful doubtful ways
The broad way sundered – what an untold pain
That yet may be before the end we gain!”
They parted mid the press as thus he spake
But into bloom in heart did break
A great delight; full of things sweet to win
The world seemed; good it was to dwell therein,
And yet a fair thing ‘twixt glad day and day
To risk the sweeping of all this away
To win a little more.
Now so it fell
That with the Arcadians went things more than well
And back again they went in two days space,
But had good leave in that same place
Yet to abide: full word the envoys gave
That in a week an army would they have
Afoot and hot for fight: but ere that tide
Fluttered with fear the land was far and wide
For Sparta was afield again: wild tales
Of horror came from all the nighest vales
Unto Laconia, of man wife and child
Slain with sharp torments; holy maids defiled
Before the altar; steads with salt strewn,
All hate and fury loose: and more & more
Each hour did folk upon the Captain gaze
As though it lay in him to give good days
So at the last, he, thinking of the thing,
‘Gan deem it best the dice once more to fling
In desperate wise, nor wait the coming there
Of the Arcadian folk, lest swift despair
Should quench the unreasoning joy his folk erst had.
So he rode forth, and who but he was glad
That day at least, as out of gates he went;
Firm looked his band, bright-faced and confident,
Until all folk, the foe being unseen yet
They and their close array, gan to forget
That this was but a handful; for be sure
The Captain had but those who might endure
Hard brunt and long, nor cared to eke
His line out with poor hearted folk and weak
Or half-armed lads; so sullen silence broke
And the gates shut upon a shouting folk,
And most thus left behind were of good cheer
But those belike whose loves or children were
Marching on proud enough, nor thinking much
Whose hearts but theirs the coming fight might touch.
But who beside the Captain rode
Looked grave and pale, as one who knew what load
Upon the smiling Captain’s heart might lie
For he though he should hold it good to die
In such fair fellowship, yet in good sooth
Deemed life a lovely thing amidst of youth
And with a sickening of the soul still thought
Of the world going on while he was nought
And heeding little of his life or death.
Not far from Steny clerus, the tale saith
On certain Spartan plunderers did they come
And slaying many drave the others home
Unto their camp: then, it being end of day
Upon a little knoll side they made stay
And till the dying moon the daylight brought
A rampart of felled trees about them wrought
And waited there with good heart, till they heard
An hour ere sunrise how the Spartans stirred;
Merry were all, but, who as yet
No point of mortal steel had ever met
Felt as in some wild dream; all flushed he was
And thwart his spirit changing clouds did pass
And minutes seemed grown hours; and all the while
He watched the Captain pass with quiet smile
About the ranks, even as one who felt
But little hope or fear, but deftly dealt
With a great engine, understood indeed,
Yet but half trusted, asking for all heed:
His mien to most men there give heart enow
Strange fear to: all things seemed to grow
So changed and hard to cope with. But the sun
Oertopped the hills and suddenly outshone
Oer a grey world, and down below, where lay
The tents of Sparta midst the olives grey
On a great shifting coil of steel gan flame,
As from the camp the dreadful spear wood came,
Silent of words, but in the morning still
Sending dull tramp and clash from hill to hill.
A pain grew breath, and hard to draw,
Colours of things kept changing, like a straw
His great spear felt within the hand of him;
But as he looked about, with eyes now dim,
Now passing clear of sight, he saw his friend
Rub from his sword-blade with his gown-skirts end
A speck of rust, een as a dreadful shout
Rang from the hill side; then he turned about,
And from his lips a word came, sharp & clear
But nowise loud; and from the hope & fear
Of many hearts a cry came, bowstrings’ twang
And dull sounds answering and the changing clang
Of armour smitten followed, and a sound
As though of thunder prisoned underground
A wild cry and a flash, and face to face
Amid the tangled spears for a short space
Stood with the wild-eyed men of war
With life and death no more to him a care
And no more feeling hopeless or alone
Or wondering aught at aught that might be done,
For fallen dead the Spartan fury was
Before the hopeless wall they might not pass
Whence man on man fell back, as the line swayed
This way and that, as little knots there made
Wild rushes and gave back again; at last
Drawn back a little way beyond spear-cast
To arrow-shot they turned them, till a man
Armed gloriously from out their midmost ran
And cast away his shield; then at his cry
Down went the spears of all that company
And dying men beneath the wall turned round
With hopeless eyes as the feet shook the ground:
But ere their spears could surge against the wall,
The Captain from the top thereof did call
In a great voice; “O fellows come ye forth
Lest they should think our spear-staves of less worth
Than these green boughs. too far apart are we
Too far apart those cruel eyes to see!”
Clashing he leapt adown amid their shout
Up went the spears, and soon were most without
The piled-up trees, and running ‘gainst the foe
Foremost of whom the gold-clad man did go,
Big made and open-mouthed and fiery eyed
Who, setting eyes upon the Captain cried,
“I see the man!” nor spake another word
For swift ran; forth and ere the sword
Whirled wild about smote Aristomenes
Fallen beneath an axe. Cast to his knees,
The Arcadian’s blade let out the Spartan soul
Through his pierced brawny throat; down did he roll
And over him clashed spear & axe & shield
As the ranks met together; swayed and reeled
Amid wild clamour there the Spartan folk
Then gave back slowly, and then turned & broke
Adown the hill, and with all death behind
All shame before them, scattered wildered blind
Fled toward their camp; and little did it lack,
The story tells, but none of them went back
Unto the camp or Sparta; but it fell
That the high Gods, who love great men too well
To let them work their work out over soon,
Cast oer the world two hours before the noon
Thick mist and clouds low drifting; so the rout
Of beaten men escaped through dark and doubt;
And when the next day dawned serene & clear
The Spartan leaguer was no longer there.
Now when the man had beat down there
Was borne forth in his golden armour fair
Known was he for a man of royal kin,
And for his slaying did the young man win
Thanks in few words from Aristomenes,
And from all men such praise as well did please
His eager heart, and still for more he yearned,
And down the dusk of coming life there burned
Bright shows of life & death made sweet by fame.
And now to make Messenia’s joy complete
The Arcadian help the Captain’s band did meet,
And a great host they were, who wended now
Their might unto the countryside to show
That lay anigh Laconia; there they found
Great signs of ravage every where around,
And many a tale of Spartan wrath they heard,
So in the Spartan marches flock & herd
And plenteous wealth they swept up, nor might hear
