"THE HEAVY TROUBLE, THE BEWILDERING CARE,-MORRIS)

SONG OF THE SEA.

William Morris.

[THIS true poet has given to the world, of late years, three carefully written works, inspired by genuine fancy and characterized by touches of deep earnest feeling-"The Legend of Arthur and Guenevere," "The Life and Death of Jason," and "The Earthly Paradise." Of the second of these, a brother poet-Algernon Charles Swinburne-not unjustly says: "This 'Jason' is a large and coherent poem, completed as conceived-the style throughout on a level with the invention. In direct narrative power, in clear forthright manner of procedure, not seemingly troubled to select, to pick, and sift, and winnow, yet never superfluous or verbose, never straggling or jarring; in these high qualities it resembles the work of Chaucer. In this poem a new thing of great price has been cast into the English treasure-house. Nor is the cutting and setting of the jewel unworthy of it-art and instinct have wrought hand in hand to its perfection." -Fortnightly Review, July 1867.1

"MEMORIES VAGUE OF HALF-FORGOTTEN THINGS, NOT TRUE OR FALSE, BUT SWEET TO THINK UPON."-MORRIS.

317

"NO GRIEF EVER BORN CAN EVER DIE IN CHANGELESS CHANGE OF SEASONS PASCING BY."-WILLIAM MORRIS.

SONG OF THE SEA.

BITTER sea, tumultuous sea,

Full many an ill is wrought by thee!

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,
With ruddy eve and golden morn
Thou temptest him, until, forlorn,

Unburied, under alien skies
Cast up ashore his body lies.

THAT WEIGHS US DOWN WHO EARN OUR BREAD."-MORRIS.

BOTH SEEM AFAR, SO FAR THE PAST ONE SEEMS,-THE GATE OF BIRTH, MADE DIM WITH MANY DREAMS, MORRIS)

318

"TWO GATES UNTO THE ROAD OF LIFE THERE ARE,

WILLIAM MORRIS.

SO FAR, HE THINKS NOT OF THE OTHER GATE WITHIN WHOSE SHADE THE GHOSTS OF DEAD HOPES WAIT."-MORRIS.

["O bitter sea, tumultuous sea."]

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;
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.

AND TO THE HAPPY YOUTH BOTH SEEM AFAR,

BIDS US REJOICE, LEST PLEASURELESS YE DIE! WITHIN A LITTLE TIME YE MUST GO BY.(MORRIS)

STRETCH FORTH YOUR HANDS, AND, WHILE YE LIVE, TAKE ALL THE GIFTS THAT LIFE MAY GIVE.'"-MORRIS.

320

LOVE WHILE YE MAY; IF TWAIN GROW INTO ONE, -(MORRIS)

WILLIAM MORRIS.

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.

[From "The Life and Death of Jason," book iv.j

"WHEN SUMMER BRINGS THE LILY AND THE ROSE, SHE BRINGS US FEAR; HER VERY DEATH SHE BRINGS

THE DEPARTURE OF THE ARGONAUTS.
[Jason and his heroes set out in quest of the Golden Fleece in the good ship
Argo, being the first men who have dared so perilous a voyage.]

B

UT 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;

["Or the porpoise roll through changing hills and valleys of the sea."]

And all unheeded did the mackerel shoal
Make green the blue waves, or the porpoise roll
Through changing hills and valleys of the sea.

HID IN HER ANXIOUS HEART, THE FORGE OF WOES; AND DULL WITH FEAR, NO MORE THE MAVIS SINGS."-MORRIS.

"O FOOLS! WHEN EACH MAN PLAYS HIS PART AND HEEDS HIS FELLOW LITTLE MORE (MORRIS)

'WHAT IS THE FOLLY YE MUST DO-(WILLIAM MORRIS)

THE DEPARTURE OF THE ARGONAUTS.

321

For 'twixt the thronging people solemnly
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
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 their 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.
And many such an one was there that morn,
Who, with lips parted and gray eyes forlorn,
Stood by the window and forgot to cast
Her gathered flowers as the heroes passed,
But held them still within her garment's hem,
Though many a wingèd 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.

And now, the streets being passed, they reached

the bay

Where, by the well-built quay, long Argo lay,

TO WIN SOME FELLOW-MORTAL'S HEART?"-W. MORRIS.

THAN THESE BLUE WAVES THAT KISS THE SHORE TAKE HEED OF HOW THE DAISIES GROW."-MORRIS.