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Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Fublications. 



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eridcnce that lime, stady, anil 



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Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 

MEMOIRS ABfD COBRESPOTroElfCE OP 

MADAME BECAMIEK. Translatiid and Edited by 

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Portrait. Price, S 2.00. 

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CTJBIOUS MYTHS OP THE MIDDLE AGES. 

Bj 8. Babing-Goold. In one volume, 16mo. With Illus- 
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ii« the dark coraera'ofliterBluie and l(fe,i8 'Curious Myths ol The Mlflrtle Ages,' 
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maor quatDt aod tftuciful LegendB, exposlug the fallacy of soDie tiopiilar beliefs, 
and snggestlng toploa fW thought and ioTesHgation as to varlons psyohologlcal 
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BUWSHINE ABTD SHOWEBS : Their loflnenres 

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volume, post 8vo. With Illustrji^ons. Price, 83.00. 

" We have received from Roberts Brethers a delightful volume, published by 

BeeveA Co., London, entitled 'aunshlne aod Showers; their Inflneucet Ihrongh- 



rology. As 




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the curiosities of UifatDlag. attifli^a 


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Extracts from Notices of " The Life and Death 
of yason" by the English Reviewers. 



A, C. SwiNBUHBE \a.(ax Psrtnightly Rcaitw. 

SMininily troubled lo select, to pick and sift and winnow, yet never supeiflu- 
QUB at vejtiose, never sttsg^i^ or jarring ; in these higti qualities it resem- 
bLes the worli of Chaucer. ETenapinst the great master his pujuL may fairly 

and°iustiee of color. 

" In all the noble roll of our poets there has been since Chaucer no second 
teller oT tales, no second rhapsode comparable to the first, till the advent of 
tids one. . ■ . Here is a poem sown of itself sprung from no alien seed, 
cm after no alien model ; tieah as wind, bright as light, tiill of the spring and 
the sun. It shares, of course, the conditions of its kind ; it has no time (or 
the subdeties, and hardly room for the ardors, of ItmIc poetry. Passion in 

hushes and Lulls the noise of ilB gurgling and refluent eddies with a slin pre- 

the lmpos»b]e, which turns to &lr and sensible truth the wildest dreams c^ 
l^end, there has been no poet for centuries comparable. ... 11 should 
now be clear, or never, that in this poem a new tiling of great price has been 

^el unworthy of it ; art and instinct have wrought hand in hand to its per. 
ion. Other and various fields await the workman who has here approved 
•■^mselfaniaster.acceiitable into the guild of great poet: on a footing of his 
(n to be shared or disputed by no other. Strained clear and guided stra^llt 

ich unsaid ; so much of beauty slighted, of 
close ,these inadequate and humed notes 
:ine. To the third book of Mr. Moiris WB 

onor done to English art, a ftesb delight (o 



lofty lyrica 
iended e> 



tshydoiw fotEodymion™! . . llie third book is a triumph of an 
Lt ait, and the fourteenth book itself m^ht well make the reputation of 







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In prEparation, by thaj^uthor of " The Life and 
Qeath of Jason.." 

The Earthly Paradise. 

CONTAINING THE FOLLOWING TALES IN VERSE. 



The Doom of Kin 



The Proud Kin. 

The Ring civi 

The Man B( 



ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 



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The Life and Death of Jason. 



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THE LIFE AND DEATH 



J5^S0N 



A POEM 



BY WILLIAM MORRIS 



BOSTON 

ROBERTS BROTHERS 

1867 



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THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON. 

ARGUMENT. 

Jason, tlie son of JEson, king of lolehos, hftving como to man's 
oatate, demanded of Foliiia hia father'a kinjnlom, which he held 
wronefully. But Peliaa auawei'ed, that if he would brinj; from 
Colchis ^e solden fleece of the ram that had carried Phrjsus 
thirtier, he woald yield him hia right. Whereon Jason sailod to 
Colchis in the ship Argo, with other heroes, and hy moans ot 
Medea, Hie king's daughter, won the fleece ; and earned olF also 
Medea; and so, after many troubles, came back to lolchos oitain. 
There, by Jledea's wilea. was PeliiW slain | but Jaaon went to 
Corinth, and lived with Medea happily, till he was taken with the 
love of Glauce, the king'a daughter of Corinth, and must needs 
wed her; whom also Medea desiroyed, and fled to JSgeus at 
Athena ; and not long after Jason died strangely. 



BOOK I. 

IN Tliessaly, beside the tumbling sea, 
Once dwelt a folk men called the Minya; ; 
For, coming from Orehomenus the old, 
Bearing tbeir wives and eliildren, beasts and ^Id, 
Through many a. league of land they look their wiiy, 
And stopped at last, where in a snnny bay 
The green Anaurus cleaves the white sea-sand, 
And eastwaril inland doth Mount Pelion stand, 
Where bears and wolves the centaur's arrows find ; 
And southward is a gentle sea and kind, 
Nig\i landlocked, peopled with all kinds of fish, 
And the good land yields all that man can wish. 



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6 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

So there they built lololios, that eaeh day 
firew great, uatii all these were passed away. 
With many another, and Cretheue the king 
Had died, and left hLs crown and everything 
To .^on, hia own son by fair Tyro ; 
Whom, in unhappy days and long ago, 
A God had loafed, whose son was Pelias. 

And so, within a whilo, it came to pass 
This Pelias being covetous and strong 
And full of wiles, and deeming nought was wrong 
That wronght him good, thrust .ffison from his tlirnnc. 
And over all the Minyje reigned alone ; 
While ^son, like a poor and feeble lord. 
Dwelt in lolchos still, not was hia word 
Regarded much by any man therein. 
Nor did men labour much his praise to win. 

Now 'mid all this a fair young s«n he bad ; 
And when his state thus fell from good to bad 
He thought, Though Pelias leave me now alone, 
Yet he may wish to make qjuite sure Iris throne 
Py 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 teiTors of a king, 
That blood alone can deaflen. 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 
About the foot of Pelion : There should he 
Blow loudly on a horn of ivory 
That .^son 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 : 

" my lord Cheiron, .^!son sends me here 



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OF JASON. 

To say, if ever you have held him dear, 

Take now this cbilil, his son, and rear him up 

Till wc have fully draiued the bitter cup 

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 he but a slave, 

Since now from fear his tender years you save ; " 

" And then," quoth .^Ison, " all these words being sa 

Hold out this ring, set with a ruhy red. 

Adorned with daiuty little images. 

And this same horn, whereon, 'twixt eaivoQ trees, 

Diana follows up the flying hart; 

They shall be signs of truth upon your part. 

Then leave the ehild with him, and come to me. 

Minding what woiils the Centaur saith to thee ; 

Of whom thou neede^t have no whit of fear; 

And, ere thou goest, biing me the ehild here." 

Then went the man and came again to him 
With Jason, who was strong and large of limb 
As for his years, and now upon his feet 
Went firmly, and began to feel life sweet, 
And longed for this and that, and on his tongue. 
Bewildered, half articulate, speech hung. 

But ^son, when he saw the sturdy hoy. 
His fair 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 nought 
Of all the things by foolish men so sought ; 
For there, no doubt, is everything man needs, — 
The quiver, with the iron-pointed reeds, 
The cornel how, the wood-knife at the ade. 



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8 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Tlie garments of the spotted leopard's hide, 

The bed of hear-skin in the hollow hill, 

The hath witliin the pool of some green rill ; 

There shall the quick-eyed centaurs be thy friends. 

Unto whose hearts such wisdom great Jove sends 

Tliey know the past and future, and fear nought 

That Iw the fates upon them may be brought. 

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 nought of evil there shall come to thee, 

Bat like the golden age shall all things bo ; 

And when upon thee fiJls the fated day, 

Fearless and painless shall thou pass away." 

So spoke he foolishly, nor knew indeed 
How many hearts his son should make to bleed, 
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 ; 
And the tried slave stood ready by his lord, 
With wallet on his back, and sharpened sword 
Girt to his side ; to whom tlie horn and ring, 
Fit for the belt and finger of a king, 
Did .^on g^ve, and therewith kissed the boy. 
Who with his black heard played, and laughed fur joy 
To see the war-horse in the red toreb-light. 
Then, being mounted, forth into the ni"ht 
They rode, and thus has Ja-on 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 



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The slave bore in his arms, until they came 
Unto the place where, living free fi-om hlame, 
Cheiron the old roameil thi-oush the oaken woo<l ; 
There hy a flowering thorn-hush the slave stood. 
And set the little Jason on the ground ; 
"Who, walling fi'om swiet sleep, looked all around 
And '^n to prattle ; but his guardian drew 
The horn from off his neck, and thereon blew 
A point of hunting known to two or tliree, 
That sounded through the forest menily, 
Then waited listening. 

And meantime the sun, 
Come from Euhcean cliffs, had just begun 
To light the high tips of the forest grass, 
And in the thorns the blackbird singing was ; 
But 'mid his noise the listening man could hear 
The sound of hoofs, whereat a little feai 
He felt within his heart, and heeded nought 
The struggling of the child, who ever sought 
To gain the horn all glittering of gold, 
Wrought by the cunning Dsodalus of old. 

But louder slill the noise he hearkened grew. 
Until at bst in sight the Centaur drew, 
A mighty grey horse, trotting down the glade, 
Over whose back the long grey looks were laid, 
That from bis 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 bead 
He wore a gold crawn, set with rubies red, 
And in his hand he bare a mighty how, 
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 Cheiron, 



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lo THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Who knew all tilings, cried : " Man with ^son's son, 

Thou needest not to tell nie who thou ait, 

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 joungling, set 'twist 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 weU 

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 bom 
In days to come, when he shaO leave this wild : 
And lay between my arms the noble child." 

So the slave joyftil, 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 eling 
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 ho mounted on his horse agiuii. 
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 
That Chciron said. Right glad was j^son then 
That irom his loins a great m^n among men 
Should tlins have sprung ; and so he passed his days 
Full quietly, remote fi'om fear or praise. 

And now was Peliaa mindful of the day 
When from the altar's horns he drew away 
Sidero's cruel hands, while Neleua smote 
The golden-hilted sword into her throat, 



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And without fire, or barley-cake, or cup, 
No pleasing victim, she was ofiered up 
In Juno'a temple ; so he feared that he. 
Though sprung from him who rules the restless sua, 
Should meet an evil fale at Juno's hands : 
Therefore he seat for men from many lands ; 
JIarblo and wood, and gold and br^s enow ; 
And day by day, with many a sounding blow, 
The masons wrought, umil at last was reared 
A temple (o the Goddess that he feared ; — 
A wonder among temples, for the stone 
That made it, and the gold that therein sbone. 
And in the midst her image Felias set, 
Wrought cunningly of purest gold, which yet 
Had served him bottor 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 bis fate ; 
Who, up the tample steps, beneath the weight 
Of precious things went bending ; and l>eing come 
Back from the north to his Thessalian home, 
Oave forth this answer to the doubtful king : — 

" Pelias, fearfiil 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 still more and more 
Drew men unto him skilled in spear and bow ; 
And through the streets full often would he go 
Beset with guards, and for the rest began 
To be a terror unto every man. 

And yet indeed were all these things but vain, 



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12 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

For at the foot of Pelion grew his bane 

In Htrenfjth and comeliness from day to day, 

And swiftly passed liis childish years away ; 

Unto whom Cheiron taught the worthy lore 

Of elders who the wide world filled before ; 

And how to forgo 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 tflok him, nor would spare 

To show him how the just-awakened lair 

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 hay. 

Or smote the boar at hottest of the day. 

Now was his dwelling-place a fair-hewn cave, 
Facing the south : thereto the hei'dsmen drave 
FuD oft to Cheiron 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 Cheiron 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 sleopy wood-nymphs all his tale. 

Moreover, Ciiieron taught him how to east 



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OF JASOy. 

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 a while, 

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 bomo. 

But in the night-time once did Jason wake. 
And seem to see the moonlit branches shake 
With huge, unwontefl clamour of the chase ; 
Then up he sprung, hut ere he went one pace 
Unto the cave's mouth, Cheii-on raised his arm 
And drew him back, and said : " Surely, no charm 
Thou bast, my son, against Diana's sight, 
Who over Pelion goes abroad this night ; 
Now let those go to her that she doth call. 
Because ao 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 loader 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 gi). 
Holding within her hand an unstrung bow ; 
And, setting eyes on her, he thought, indeed. 
This must be she that made Actseon 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 



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14 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

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, " Wbo 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 '1 

Speak out and fear not." 

"0, my queen! " said be, 
" Fair Goddess, as thou seemest weU to be. 
Give me good days and peace, and ffur girl'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 Cheiron in the hollow mountain-side. 
Wishful for happy days, whate'er betide," 

" Jason," she said, " ail 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 ain no mortal ; so to Cheiron tell ; 
No longer is it fitting thou shouldst dwell 
Here in the wilds, but in a day or two, 
Clad in IMagnesian garments, shalt thou go 
Unto lolchos, and there claim thine own. 
And unto thee shall Cheiron first make known 
The story of thy father and thy kin, 
That thou mayst know what right thou hast herein. 



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And say to him, I bid him do this thing. 

By this same token, that the silver ring 
Upon my altar, with Sidero'a blood 
Is spotted Htill, 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 gi'een stems grew wavering and dim ; 
And when a fresh gust of the morning breeie 
Came murmuring along the forest trees, 
And woke him as from dreaming, all alone 
He stflod, 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 Chciron, whom he found hid there, 
Half sleeping on tlie thymv herbage fair, 
To whom he told the things that he had heani, 
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 Cheiron said : " 0, 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 fiiend. 
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, t«-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 mil drink : 
Therefore to-day our cups shall not be dry, 
But we will sit together, thou and I, 



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1 6 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And tales of tby forefathers slialt thou hear. 
And many another, till the heavens olcar." 

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 sammor rills 
Grew joyful with the coming of the raiu. 
And doubtfully was shifting every vane 
On the town spires, with chan^ng gusts of wind ; 
Till came the storm-blast, furious and blind, 
'Twist gorges of ihe mountains, and drove hack 
The light sea breeie ; then waxed the heavens 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 fi-oin 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 Umbs, and dreamy, languid head 
Of sandallefl nymph, foi-owetu'ied with the chase. 

Meantime, 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-eups idle ; till at last 
Deare of sleep over their bodies passed. 
And in their dreamless rest the wind in vain 
Howled round about, with washing of the rain. 



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BOOK II. 

SO there they lay until the eccond dawn 
Brolie iiiir and fresh o'er glittering giade and lawn ; 
Then Jason rose, and did on him a fair 
Blue woollen tunio, such as folk do wear 
On the Magne^an cliffs, and at his tbigh 
An iron-hilted sword hung carefully ; 
And on bis head he had a russet hood ; 
And ill his hand two spears of cornel- wood. 
Well steeled and hound with brazen bands he shook. 

Then from the Centaur's hands at hist be took 
The tokens of his birth, the ring and horn, 
And so stept forth into the sunny mom, 
And bade farewell to Chciron, 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 thon 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 
lUse up and went unto the river's brim ; 
But fearful seemed the passage unto him, 
For swift and yellow drave the stream adown 
'Twist crumbling banks ; and ti-ee-tmnks 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 spearishaft 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, catling out, " Fair youth, rejoice 



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l8 THE LIFE ASD DEATH 

That I am hereto help, or certainly 

Long time a dweller hereby shouldst thou be." 

Then Jason turned round q^uickly,.and behold 
A woman, bent with burdens and with eld, 
(Irey and broad shouldered ; so he laughed, and said : 
■' mother, wilt thou help me 1 by my head. 
More help than tbino I need upon this day." 

" son," she said, " needs must ihou on thy way ; 
And ia there any of the giants here 
To bear thee through this water without fear ? 
TaJte, then, the help a Ood has sent (o 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 arras easily. 
And slept 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 camo 
Unto the other bank ; and little shame 
Had Jason that a woman carried him, 
For no man, howsoever strong of limb, 
Had dared across the swollen stream to go. 
But if he wished the Stygjan 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 unt* the crone. 
He saw not her, but a most glorious one, 
A lady clad in blue, all glist«ring 
With something more than gold, crowned like the king 



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Of all the world, and holding in her hand 
A jewelled rod. So when he saw her stand 
With unsoiled feet scarce touehing the wet way. 
He trembled sore, but therewith heard her say : — 

" JasoD, Buch as I have heen to thee 
UpOD 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 hitler tongues of men, 
For surely mayst thou lean upon me, when 
The turbulent and Uttle-roasoiung throng 
Press hard upon thee, or a king with wrong 
Would fein undo thee, as thou leanilst just now 
Within the yellow streajn : so from no blow 
Hold hack thine hand, nor fear to set thine heart 
On what thou deemest fits thy kingly part. 

Now to the king's throne this day draw anear, 
Because of old time I have set a fear 
Within his heart, ere yet thou hadat gained speech, 
And whilst thou wanderedst beneath oak and heeeh 
Unthinking. And, behold ! so have I wrought, 
That with thy coming shall a, sign be brought 
Unto him ; for the latohet of thy shoe 
Rushing Anaurus iat-e I hade undo, 
Which now is carried swiftly to the sea. 

So Pohas, this day setting eyes on thee, 
Shall not forget the shameful tiickling blood 
Adown my altar-steps, or in my wood 
The screaming peacocks scared bj other screams, 
Nor yet tonight shall he dream happy dreams. 

Farewell, then, and he joyful, for I go 
Unto the people, many a thing to show. 
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-smellbg, colored like a rosy flame. 



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20 THE LIFF. AND DEATH 

That wrapt the Goddess from him ; who, indeed. 
Went to lolchos, and there sowed the seed 
Of bitter change, that mins kings of men ; 
For, like an elder of threescore and ton, 
Throughout the town she went, and, as such do, 
Kver she hlessed the old, and banned the new ; 
Lamenting for the passed and happy reign 
Of Cretheus, wishing there were come again 
One like to him ; till in the markelrplaee 
About the king was many a doubtful face. 

Xow Jason, by Anaunis left alone. 
Found that, indeed, his light-foot shoe was gone, 
But, as the Goddess bade hirn, 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 fiiot bare. 
And iron-hiI(ed sword, and uncouth weed : 
But of no man did he take any heed. 
But came int« 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 tlian any by a head. 
Great limbed, broad shouldered, mightier than all, 
But soft of speech, though unto him did fall 
Full many a sconi upon that day to get. 

So in a while ho came where there was set 
Pelias, the kin^, judging the people there ; 
In scarlet was he elad, and on 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, 



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And his hand fell upon hia swordlesa belt ; 
But when the hum strndo up tn the throne. 
And Bet his unshod font 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 brafs-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 I'emembered in his lace. 

And now nigh silent was the crowded place, 
For through the folk remembrance Juno sent, 
And soon from man to man a murmur went, 
And frowning folk were whispering deeds of shanie 
And wrong the king had wrought, and -SIson's name. 
Forgotten long, was bandied all about, 
And ^ent 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 .^t«lian guards, upon his ears 
There fell the clashing of the people's spears ; 
And on the house-tops round about the square 
Could he behold folk gathered here and tJiere, 
And see the sunbeams strike on brass and steel. 
But therewithal, though new fear did he feet, 
He thought, " Small use of arms in this distress, — 
Needs is it that I use my wiliness ; " 
Then spoke aloud : " 0, man, what wouldst thou here 
That beardeat thus a kin" with little fear '? " 

" Pelias," he said, " I will not caU thee king, 
Because thy crown is but a stolen thing. 
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. 



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22 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

HaTC raised me, Jason, np to do this tiling, 

His son, and son of fair Aleimide ; 

Yet now, since Tyro's biood 'twixt thee and me 

Still mns, and tliou my father's brother art, 

In no wise would I hurt thee, for my part. 

If thou wilt render to us hut our own. 

And still shalt thou stand nigh my father's throne." 

Then all the people, when aright they knew 
That this was ^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 thoa comest unto me. 
My nephew Jason ; lain would I hy down 
Tliia heavy weight and burden of a crown. 
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 good-will. 
Fain would I be a king a sliort while still, 
That everything in order I may set. 
Nor any man thereby may trouble get. 
And now I bid thee stand by me tonlay. 
And cast all fear and troublous thoughts away ; 
And for thy father JEson will I send. 
That I may see him as a much-loved friend. 
Now that these years of bitterness are past. 
And peaceful days are come to me at last." 

With that, from out the press grave .^*n came, 
E'en as he spoke ; for to his ears the fame 
Of Jason's coming thither had been brought ; 
Wherefore, with eager eyes liis son he sought ; 
But, seeing the mighty hero great of limb. 
Stopped short, with eyra set wistfiilly on him, 
■\Vhile a fiilse honied speech the king began : 

" Htul, brother .^son, hail, O happy man ! 
To-day thou winnest back a noble son, 



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OF JASON. 

Whose glorious deeds this hour soos heguii, 
And from my hands thou winnest back the crown 
Of this revered and many-peopled town ; 
So let me win ftwm 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 V 
Behold the tokens Cheiron gave to me 
When first he said that I was sprung from thee." 

Then little of those signs did JEson reck, 
But cast his arm about the hero's neck, 
And kissed him oft. remembering well the time 
When as he sat beneath the flowering lime 
Beside bis 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 foli did seem, 
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 tears ran 
On to the rdment of the goodly man ; 
Until at last he said ; " All honour now 
To Jove and all the Gods ! Surely, I know. 
Henceforth my name shall never perish ; yet 
But little joy of this man shall I get. 
For through the wide world where will be the kino 
Who will not fear him ; nor shall anything 
Be strong against bim ; therefore certainly 
Full seldom will he ride afield with me. 
Nor will he long bear at his father's board 



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24 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

To sit, well-known of all, but with his sword 

Will rather hurst asunder banded throngs 

Of evil men, and heal some great king's wrongs. 

And as for thee, Pelias, as I may, 
Will I he friend to thee irom this same day ; 
And ance we both of us are growing old, 
And both our lives will soon be as talcs 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 aught, then on my head 
Be every curse that thou canst ever think ; 
And dying, of an ill draught may I drink, 
For in my mind is nought 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, 
Tour 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 np 
The kingly service ; many a jewelled cnp 
And silver platter ; and the fires roar 
About the stalled as and the woodland boar ; 
And wine we have, that ere this youngling's eyes 
First saw the light, made tears and laughter rise 
Up from men's heai-ts, making the past seem dull. 
The future hollow, but the pi'csent 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 Aiy, 
May yet be inends, and talking lovingly. 
And with our laughter make the pillars ring, 
"While this one Mts revolving many a thing, 
Saddened by that, which makes us elders glad." 

Such good words said he, but the thoughts were bad 



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Within his crafty breast ; and still he thought 
How best be might be rid of him just brought, 
By sentence of the Gtods, 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 bis race, and thought no shame 
To kiss bis skirts ; and so at last they came 
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 tho harp-string and shrill-piping reed 
StiU sounded, trooped the folk unto the feast. 
And all were sot to meat, both most and least ; 
And when with dwnties tbey were fiilly fed. 
Then the tall jars and well-sewn goat-skins bled. 
And men grew glad, forgetting every ears. 
But tirst a golden chain and mantle fair 
Pelias did on hini ; and then, standin* up, 
Poured out red wine from a great golden eup 
Unto the Gods, and prayed to them : " ye 
Who rule the world, grant us felicity 
This hour, at least, nor let our sweet deUght 
Be marred by aught, until the silent night 
Has eorae, and tui-ned to day again, and we 
Wake up once more to joy or misery. 
Or death itself, if so it pteaseth you : 
Is this thing, then, so great a thing to do ? " 

Thereon folk shouted, and the pipes again 
Breathed through the hall a sweet beart-softening strain, 
And up the hall came lovely damseb, dressed 
In gowns of green, who unto every guest 



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26 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Gave a rose garland, nor yet hasted they, 
When this was done, to pass too quick away, 
If here and there an eager hand still held 
By gown or wrist, whom the young prince beheld 
With longing eyes that roved ahout the hall. 

Now longer did tlie cool grey shadows fall, 
And iast«r drew the sun unto the west. 
And iu the field the bushandman, opprest 
With twelve hours' labour, turned unto his home. 
And U) the fold the woolly sheep were come ; 
And in tlie hall the folk hegan to tell 
Stories of men of old, who bore them well. 
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 bi-uke. 
He said to Jason : " Yet have I to tell 
One tale I would that these should hear as well 
As you, 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 Minyfc, 
Eight prosperous and honoured may ye be ; 
When Athamas ruled over Thebes the great, 
Upon his house there felt a heavy fate, 
Making his name a mere byeword ; for he. 
Being wedded to the noble Nephele, 
tiat on her a fair youth and tender maid, 
Phryxus and Helte ; but, being nought afrdd 



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OF JASON. 

Of what the righteous Gods might do to him, 
And seeing Ino, fair of fece and limb 
Beyond all other, needs with her must wed, 
And to that end drove from his royal hed 
Unhappy Nephele, who now must be 
A slave, where once she governed royally ; 
While the white-footed Iqo sat alone 
By Atbamas upon the ivory throne. 

" 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 bom of Nephelo, 
Who yet, in spite of all things, day by day 
Grew fairer as their sad lives wore away ; 
1^11 Ino thought, ' What help will it have been. 
That through these years I Imve been called a queen. 
And set gold raiment on my children dear, 
If Atharoas should die and leave me here 
Betwixt the people and this Nephele, 
With those she bore t What then could hap to mo 
But death or shame ? for then, no doubt, would reign 
Over this mighty town the children twain ; 
With her who once was queen stiU standing near. 
And whispering fell words in her darlings' ear. 
And then what profit would it be that tfiey 
Have won through me full many an evil day ; 
That Phryxus Imse and servile deeds doth know, 
Unmeet for lords; that many a shame and woe 
HeDe has home, and yet is wont to stand. 
Shrinking with fear, before some dreaded hand ; 
If still the eoding of it mnst he this. 
That I must die while they live on in bliss. 
And cherish her that first hy in my bed ? 
Nor is there any help till they he dead.' 

" Then did she fall on many an evil thought. 
And going tbenoe, with threats and money brought 



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28 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

The women of the land tfl do this thing : 
In the mid-winter, yea, before the spring 
Was in men's miDcle, they took the good seed com, 
And while their hushanda toiled in the dark morn, 
And dreaded nought, they thoroughly seethed it all ; 
Whereby this seeming portent did uefall. 
That neither the sweet showers of April tide, 
Nor the May sunshine, gleaming fer and wide 
Over the meadows, made their furrows green, 
Nor yet in June was any young shoot seen. 

" Then drew the country folk nnto the king, 
Weeping and wailing, telling of the thing. 
And praying him to satisfy the God, 
Whoe er he was, who with this cmel 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 stflry 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 measure, for that she. 
Being vowed unto the Goddess, none the less 
Cast by the quiver and (he 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 ^ve 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 
The chronicler for telling empty hes. 
And mingling fobles with his histories. 

" Therefore is Athamas a wrelehed man 
To hear this tale, and doetb what he can 



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To save his flesh and blnwl, but all in vain ; 

Because the people, cruel in their pain, 

With ajigry words were thmnging the great hall, 

And crafty Ino at his feet did fall, 

Saying, ' King, I pray for these, and me, 

And for my children.' Therefore, mournfully 

He called the priests again, and bade them say, 

In few words, how hia children they would slay. 

And when the dreadfiil bearer of the bow 

Would best be pleased to see their young blood Saw. 

Who said, ' that if the thing were quiukly done. 

Seeing the green things were not wholly gone. 

The ruined fields might ^ve a little food. 

And that high noon-tide the next day was good. 

Above all oUier hours, to do the thing ; 

And thereupon thoy prayed unto the king. 

To take the younglings, lest, being fled away, 

They still Diight live and leave an evil day 

To riiebes and all its folk henceforth to bear.' 

" Then men were sent, who by the river fair 
Found Phrysua casting nets into the stream, 
Wlio, seeing them coming, little harm did deem 
Tliey meant him, and wi(li welcome bade tliem share 
The glittering heap of fishes that lay there. 
Itut they with laughter fell at once on him. 
Who, struggling wrathfully, broke here a limb 
And there a head, but lasUy 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. 

" Wliom soon they found, within the weaving-room. 
Bent earnestly above the rattling loom, 
AVorking 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 draped her trembling t« the prison drear, 



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30 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Where lay her brother, and there cast her in, 
Giddy and fainting, wondering for what sin 
She suffered this ; but, finding Phryxus kid 
In the same dismal place, the wretched maid 
Bewailed with him the soitows of tlieir life, 
Praying the Goda to show the king's new wife 
What soiTOW was, nor let her haiv grow grey 
Eie in some hopeless place her body lay. 

■' Now in that oourt a certain beast there was, 
Tlie gift of Neptune to King Athamas, 
A miglity ram, greater tlian such beasts be 
In any laud about the Grecian sea ; 
And in all else a wonder to men's eyes,_ 
For from his shoulders did two wings arise, 
Tliat seemed as they were wrought of beaten giilil, 
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. 
The task of Nephele had late been made, 
Who, nothing of the mighty ram afraid. 
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 palac* he did stand. 
For all the place was made of polished wood. 
Studded with gold j 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 were there gi-eat lime-trees. 
Hummed over by innmuerable bees. 

" 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. 
I'hei-e with the ram, close in a little wood. 



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She hid herself a-nigh the gates, till noon 

Sliould bring those to the Lady of the Moon 

She longed to see ; and as the time drew nigh, 

She kn^t, and with her ti-emhling hands did tie 

Abont the gold beast's neck a mystic thing, 

And in his ears, meanwhile, was murmuring 

Words taught her by the ever-changing God, 

■\Vho on the sands at noon is wont to nod 

Bedde the flock of Neptune ; till at last 

Upon the breeze the sound of flutes went past ; 

Then sore she trembled, as slie held the beast 

By the two golden boras, but never ceased 

lier mystic rhyme ; and louder, and more loud 

The music sounded, till the solemn crowd 

Along the dusty road came full in ^ght. 

First went the minstrels, clad in raiment, white. 

Both men and maids garlanded daintily ; 

And then ton damsels, naked from the knee. 

Who in their hands bare bows done ronnd with leaves, 

And arrows at their backs in goodly sheaves. 

Gaudily featiiered, ready for the strife ; 

Then came tiiree priests, whereof one bore tlie knife, 

One a gieat golden bowl to hold the blood. 

And one a bundle of some sacred wood ; 

And then was left a little vacant space, 

And then came gold, and she could see the (ace 

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, 
Of whom went Phryxus in most manly mood, 
Looking around, with mournful, steady eyes. 
Upon the green fields and the bi'averies. 
And all he never thought to see again. 
But Helle, as ^e went, could not refrain 
From bitter wailing for the days gone by. 



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32 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

When hope was inised with certain misery; 
And, when the long day's task and fear was done, 
She might talie pleasure sometimes in the sun, 
Whose rnys she saw now glittering on the knife 
That in a little time would end her life. 

" Now she, who in coarse raiment had been clad 
For many a year, upon her hody had, 
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 neek 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 miglity beast upon the throng, — 
Like as a hunter holds the gazehound long. 
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 aade both singing-man and priest. 
And girded m^en, and the startled king. 
And luo, grown all pale to see the tiling. 
With rising horror in her evil heart. 
And thereon Phtyxus, seeing the crowd part, 
And this deliverer nigh him, with wings spread 
Beady for flight, and eager threatening head, 
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 nir 
With sounding wings ; nor yet did any dare. 
As fast they flew, to bend on them a bow. 
Thinking some God had surely willed it so. 



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'■ Then went tlie king unto his house again, 
And Ino with him, downcast that the twain 
Had so escaped, her, waiting for what fato 
Should bring upon her doomed head, soon or late. 

" Nor long she waited ; for, one evil day, 
Unto the Ving her glittering gold array 
And rosy flesh, half seen tirougli raiment thin. 
Seemed like the many-spotted leopard's skin; 
And her fair hands and fbet like armJbd paws 
Tlie treacherous beast across the strained throat draws 
Of some poor fawn ; and when ho saw her go 
Across the hall, her footsteps soft and slow 
And tho lithe motion of her body fair 
But made him think of some boast 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 
AwhUe, then rushed nt Ino as she stood 
Trembling, with cheeks all drained of rosy blood; 
Who straightway caught her raiment up, and fled 
Adown the streets, where once she had been led 
In triuninb by the man whose weli-known cheer 
Close at Tier heejs, now struck such deadly fcar 
Into her heart, the forge of many a woe. 

" So, fiill of anguish, panting did she go 
O'er rough and smooth, till field and wood was passed, 
And on the border of the eea at last, 
With raiment torn and unshod feet, she stood, 
Eeddeuing the flowering sea-pink with her blood. 

" But when she saw the tireless hunt«r nigh, 
.All wild and shouting, with a dreadful cry 
She stretched her arms out seaward, and sprung down 
Over the clitF among the seaweed brown 



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34 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And washing surf, neither did any one 
See aught of her again beneath tlie sun. 

" But Athamas, being come to wliere she stood, 
Stared vacantly awhile upon the blood. 
Then, looking seaward, drew across his eyes 
His fevered hand : and throning memories 
Came thick npoa him, until dreamily 
He turned his back upon the hungry sea, 
And cast his sword down ; and so, weaponless. 
Went back, half-waking to bis sore distress. 

" As for the twain, — perched on that dizay height, 
The white-walled eity faded from their sight. 
And many another place that well they knew ; 
And over woods and meadows still they flew ; 
And (o the husbandmen seemed like a flame 
Blown 'twist the earth and sky ; until they came 
Unto the borders of the murmuring sea. 
Nor stayed they yet, hut 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 iar beneati, the deep green sea and cold. 
She shut her eyes for horror of the sight, 
Turning the sunny day to mirk midnight, 
Through which there floated many an awful thing. 
Made vocal by the ceaseless nmrmuring 
Beneath her feet ; till a great gust of wind 
Caught the beast's wings and swayed him round ; then, 

blind, 
DiBzy, and fainting, grew her limbs too weak 
To hold their place, though still her hands did seek 
Some stay by catching at the locks of gold; 
And as she fell her Iwother strove to hold 



^b, Google 



Her jewelled girdle, but the treaclierous zone 
Broke ia his \iand, and he vias left alone 
Upon tlie ram, that, as a, senseless thing, 
Still flew on towai'd the east, no whit lieeding 
His shonta and cries ; hut 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 ^de of the murmuring strmt. 
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 
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 fearfiil of the wind, that hy his brow 
Went shrietiDg, as, without all stop or stay. 
The golden winga still bore him on bis way 
Above the unlucky waves of that ill sea 
That foamed beneath his feet unceasingly. 
Nor knew he to what land be was being home. 
Whether be 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 tlie kind, anburning sun doth smile 
For ever, and that knows no frost or drought ; 
Or else, it seemed to him, he might be brought 
Unto green forests where the wood-nymphs play 
With their wild mates, and fear no coming day. 
And there might ho forget both crown and sword. 
And e'en the names of slave, and king, and lord. 
And load a merry life, till all was done, 
And 'mid the green boughs, marked by no carved stone, 



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36 77/K LIFE AND DEATH 

His unromeinbered liones should waste away. 
In dew, and rain, and sunshine, day hy day. 

" So, 'mid these thoughts, still elinging fearfully 
Unto his dizzy seat, he passed the sea, 
And reached a river opening into it, 
Across tho which the white-winged fowl did ilit 
From cliff t* cliff, and on the sandy har 
The fresh waves and the salt waves were at war, 
At turniuff of the tide. Forth flew they then. 
Till they drew nigh a strange abode of men. 
Far iip the river, white-walled, fail', and great, 
And at eac i end of it a hrazen 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. 
There stoywd the ram his course, and lighted down 
Hard by the western gate of that fair town, 
And on tlie hard way Phryxus joyfully 
Set foot, full dizzy with tho 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 hini, 

" But they, beholding him so strong of limb, 
And fair of fiice, and seeing the beast that titxl 
Behind his back, deemed him some wandering (Jod, 
So let the two-edged sword hang by the side. 
And by the wall the well-steeled spears abide. 

" But he called out to them, ' What place is thia 
And who rules over you for woe or bliss? 
And will he grant me peace to-day or war 1 
And may I here abide, or still afar 
Must I to new abodes go wandeiing? ' 

" Now as he spake those words, that city's king 
Adown the street was drawing t^iwards the gate, 
Clad in gold raiment worthy his estate : 



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OF JASON. 

Therefore one said : ' Behold our king is here, 

Who of all ua is held both lief and dear ; 

JEetes, leader of a mighty host, 

Feared hy all folk along the windy coast. 

And Mnce this city's name thou feiin wouldst know, 

Men call it .^a, built long years ^p, 

Holpen of many Gods, who love it well. 

Now come thou tfl the king, and stniightly t«ll 

Thy name and country, if thou art a man, 

And how thou earnest o'er the water wan, 

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 mucb-dosired feme.' 

" 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 wa 
Hast thou crossed o'er the green and restless plaio 
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 nnknown countiy trod, 
\Vliere 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 woaldst thou have us do, who are bnt men, 
Against the might of Gods ? ' 

Then answered he ; 
' king, I think no God is wroth with me, 
But rather some one loves me ; for, behold, 
A while ago, just as my foe did hold 
The knife ao;ainst my throat, there came this ram, 
Who brought me la the place where now I am 
Safe from the sea and from the bitter knife. 



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38 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And in tbis city woulU I spend my life. 
And do wliat seiTiee seemeth good to thee, 
Since all the Gods it pleasea I should he 
OutoaKt from friends and country, though alive ; 
Nor with their will have I the heart to strive 
More than thou liost ; aod now as in such wi^ie 
I have been saved, fiiin would I sacrifice 
This beast to Jove, the helper of all such. 
As false friends foil, or foes oppress too much.' 

" ' Yea,' said JEletes, ' so the thing shall be 
In whatsoever fashion pleaseth thee ; 
And long time mayst thou dwell witli us in bliss, 
Not doing any service worse than this, 
To bear in war mj wijal banner forth. 
When fall the wild folk on us from the north. 
Come now this eve, and hold high feast wilh 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 befaUen him, and in a grove, 
Upon the altar of the Saving Jove, 
They offered up the ram the morrow mom 
Tliat thitherwaid the Theban prince had borne. 

" And thenceforth Phrysus dwelt in Colchis lona; 
In wealth and honour, and, being bi'ave and sttonjji 
Won great renown in many a bloody fi'ay, 
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 -Sletes' heart a longing grew 
To have the thing, yea, e^en if he slew 
His guest to get it ; so, one evil night. 
While the prince lay and dreamed about the fight. 
With all anned men was every entry filled, 
And quickly were the few doorkeepers killed ; 



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And PLrysus, roused willi clamoQi- from his bed. 
Half-armed and dizzy, with fcw strokes was dead. 
And thus the King .^t«s had his will ; 
And thus tie Uolbbn Fleece he keepetb still 
Somewhere within his royal house of gold. 

" And thus, IMinyse, 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 within a tomb, 
Or to .^letes met« out his due doom ; 
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 diould spring up some great prince of name 
To lead them ; and 1 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. 
And through the place the name of Jason ran, 
Nor, 'mid the feaatera, was thew 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 fathei', old and weak. 
Left 'tvrist the fickle people of the land. 
And wily Pelias, while he clenched his hand. 
As though it held a sword, about hie cup. 

Then, 'mid the murmuring, Pelias stood up 
And said : " 0, leaders of the Miny£e, 
I hear yo name a name right dear to me — 
My brother's son, who in the oaken wood 
Has grown up nurtured of the Centaur good. 



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40 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And now this day has conio again to us. 
Fair faced anH mighty limbed, and amorous 
Of fame and glorious deeds ; nowii* content 
Betwixt the foi'est and the northern bent 
To follow up the antlers of the deer, 
Nor in his eyes can I see any fear 
Of fire, or water, or the cleaving sword, 

" Now, therefore, if ye take him for your loi'd 
Across the sea, then surely ye will 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 kiuL', 
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 
These leaders of the people, who are tain 
To go with thee and suffer many a pain 
And deadly fear, if they may win at last 
Undying fame when fleeting life is pasf^ 
And now, if thou art willing to be first 
Of all these men, of whom, indeed, the worst 
la 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 
To name and wealth ! and yet, indeed, for me, 
What happy ending shall I ask from thee? 
What helpful friends ? what length of quiet years 't 
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 reeeive. 
If thou wert Jason, I were Jove to-day. 

" And ye who now arc hot Ui play this play, 
Seeking the fleece across an unknown sea, 



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Bet^ink ye yet of death, and mifiery, 
And. dull despair, before ye arm to go 
Unto a savage king and folk none know, 
Whence it may woil liap none of ye to come 
Again unt« your little ones and home. 

" And do thou, Peliaa, ere we get us forth. 
Send heralds out, east, west, and south, and nortli, 
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, 
Formany a brave man like a fool will at 
Beside the council hoard ; 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 od dull and foolish ears. 

"Also we need a cunning artisan, 
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 towaid the east. 
To seek the hidden fleece of that gold beast, 
I swear to Jove that only in my hand 
The fleece shall be, when I again take land 
To see my fiither's hall, or the green grass 
O'er which the grey Thessalian horses pass. 

'■ But now, friends, forget all till the morn 
Witli other thoughts and fears is duly born ! " 

He ceased, and all men shouted ; and again 
They filled their ou^, 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. 
Thought well that he should be a mighty lord, 
For now already like a king he spoke, 
Gaang upon the wild tumultuous folk 



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42 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

As one who knows wbat troubles are to Mine, 
And in t)iis world looks for no peaceful borne, — 
So much he dreaded what the Gods might do. 

But .^on, when he first heard Pelias, knew 
What wile was stirring, and he sat afeard. 
With sinking heart, as all the tale he heard ; 
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, 
The greatest and most honoured man in Greece." 

But Jason, much rejoicing in his life, 
Drank and was merry, lon^ng for the strife ; 
Though in bis heart he did not fail to see 
His uncle's cunning wiles and treachery ; 
But thought, when sixty years are gone, at most. 
Then wQl all pleasure and all pain he lost ; 
Although my name, indeed, be east about 
From hall l<) 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 
0"er the Greek soa, so many years agnnc. 



BOOK III. 

NOW, the next morn, when risen was tbe 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 



^b, Google 



OF JASON. 

News of these tilings througLout the towns of Greece, 
Moving great men to seek the golden fleece. 

Therefore, from many a lordship forth they i-ode, 
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, 
And women's hands be dreaded far and wide, 
This fair beginning of the summer-tide. 

Now. aU the folk who went upon this quest 
I cannot oaine, but fdn 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 
Th^e grew to bo forgotten 'neath the sun, 
Being neither poor of heart or weak of wit. 
More than those others whose crowned memories 
Enthroned amid the echoing minstrelsy 
Sang of old time beside the Grecian sea. 

Howe'er it be, now dining to the hem 
Of those old singers, will I tell of them, 
In weak and Cilteving voice, e'en as I can. 

Now was the well-skilled Argus the first man 
Who through the gates into lolcbos passed. 
Whose lot in fertile Egypt first was cast, 
The narse of Gods and wonder-working men ; 
His father's name was Danans, who till then 
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 ti'ulj have I seen, 
'Twist sleep and waking, one olad like a queen, 
About whose head strange lights shone gloriously. 
Stand at my bed's foot, and she said to me : 
' Argus, arise, when dawn is on the earth, 



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44 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And go unto a city great of girtb 
Men call lolehos, and there ask for one 
Who now gets readj a great race to ran 
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 J, who send theo to him, am the same 
Who in the greenwood bade him look for fiinie 
That he desired little ; and am she 
Who, when the eddies rushed tumultuously 
About us, bore hiin to the river side : — 
And unto thee shali sach-like things betide.' 

" Therewith she told me many a crafty thing 
About this keel that ye are now lacking. 
Bidding nic 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 
Before the winter takes ua from the north, 
I pray you, let there be at my commands 
Such men as are most skilful of their hands ; 
Nor spare to take lintel, rooftree, or post. 
Of ash or pine, or oak that helpeth most, 
Fivm 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 withal. 
For soothly from Dodona doth it come. 
Though nien forget it, the grey pigeons' home. 

" So look to see a marvel, and forthright 
Set on the smiths the sounding brass to smite ; 
For surely shall all ye your armour need 
Before these flower-buds have turned to seed." 

Tlien Jason gave him thanks and ^fts enow, 
And through the town sought all who chanced to '. 
The woodwright's eraft, by whom was much begui 



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OF JASON. 

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 bold 
The second rafter m the royal liall 
To make the Dew ship's goodly prow withal. 

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 strange thing 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, Satam's seed. 

Meanwhile came many heroes to the town ; — ■ 
Asterion, dweller on the windy down 
Below PhilEeus, far up in the north ; 
Slow-footed Polyphemus, late borne forth 
Id chariot from Larissa, that beholds 
Green-winding Peneus cleaving fertile wolds ; 
Ei^nus, son of Neptune, nigh the sea 
His fkther sent him, where the laden bee 
Flies low across Mieander, and falls down 
Against the white walls of a merchant town 
Men call Miletus. 

Behind him there came 
The winter of a great and dreaded name, 
Theseus, the slayer of the fearful beast, 
Who soon in winding halls should make his feast 
On youths and maidens ; and with him there rode 
The king, Pmthous, who his loved abode 
Amid the shady trees had left that tide 
Where fly the centaurs' arrows for and wide. 

Black-haired was Theseus, slim, and still his cheek 
Lacked all but down, for yet he bad to seek 



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46 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

The twisted ways of Daedalns the old ; 
But long and twining locks of ruddy gold 
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 gi-eat black ship to fill. 

Next, threading Argive ways and woody lanes, 
Came NaupKus, sou of Neptune, to those plains, 
Grossing Anaurus dryshod, for his ^re 
With threats and blows drove up the land-stream higher. 
And sucked tlie sea-waves back across the sands ; 
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, Cyrene, wandering carelessly 
Beside the Peneus ; lolaus came 
From Argoa, too, tfl win a deathless name ; 
And if thenceforth oame any heroes more 
I know DOt, and their names have died of yore. 

But from Arcadian forests came forth one 
Who like a goddess 'mid the rowers shone. 
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 mmd, yet fearing not for aught ; 
For she, with many a vow, had dearly bought 
Diana's love, and m no flowery stead 
Had borne to hear love-songs, or laid her head 
Ou 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. 



^b, Google 



OF JASON. 

Nest through the gates his car Oileus (Jrave, 
The Locvma king, red-haired, witli fieree grey eyes 
Wandering from right to left, as though some prize 
He sought for in the rich Theasalian land; 
Then Iphiclus heside the gates did stand, 
Hiu kine at all adventure left at homo, 
That on a doubtful voyage he might roam. 

Admetns from the well-wajled Pheras came, 
Longing to add new glory to the fame 
Of Eim whose flooks Apollo once did keep. 
And then Echion, who would nowise sleep 
Amid Ephesian roses, or behold 
Betwixt gold cups and dainty things of gold 
The white limbs of the daneing-givl, her hair 
Swung round her dainty loins and bosom bai'e ; 
But needs must try tho hollow-sounding sea. 
As herald of the heroes, nor was he 
Left by his brother Eurytus the strong. 

Neither did CEenous, the Magnesian, long 
Le'iS than the others strange new lands to see, 
Though wondrous things were told of him, — that 

he, 
Once woman, now waa man by Neptune's aid. 
And thus had won a long-desired maid. 

From nigh Lajissa came .^talides. 
Leaving ■» plim «ell-watered, set with trees, 
That feeds much woolly sheep and lowing neat, 
And knoweth well the dancing maiden's feet. 
Mopsus, like Idmon, knew of things to come, 
And had in Lipara a rocky home. 
Eurydajnas, tired of the peaceful lake 
Of Xynias, was come for Jason'a sake 
To lay his well-skilled hands upon the oar, 
Dealing with greater waves than heretofore. 

Menoetiua, son of Actor, from the land 
Where swift Asopus runs through stones and sand. 



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48 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

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, coraeth after him. 

Then a rich man, grown old, but strong of limb, 

Eurjtion, son of Iras, leaveth now 

His husbaodnien still following of the plough 

In the iat Theban meadows, while he goes, 

Driven by fate, to suffer biting woes. 

From (Echalia, Clvtius the king. 
And Iphitns his brother, felt the sting 
That drives great men through woes to seek renowi 
And left their |;narded city, looking down 
From rocky heights on the well-watered plain. 
Right wise tliey were, and men say, not in vain 
Before Apollo's court they claimed to be 
The first who strung the fetal cornel tree. 
And loosed the twanging bowstring from the ear. 

Then (o the gate a chariot drew a-near. 
Wherein two brothers sat, whereof tlie one 
Who held the reins was mighty Telamon ; 
And Peleas was the other's dreaded name. 
And from an island both the heroes came. 
Sunny .ffigina, where their lather'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 gi'eater heroes from their loins should come. 
The oooiusmen of the Trojan's godUbe home. 

Fair Athens, and the olive groves thereby, 
Pbalerus left, riding through ueserts diy 
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 



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AncI pour out wioe for well aoconiplished days, 
^Vho, aD besotted with the Syren's lays, 
Must leave hm mates ; nor happier than he, 
Tiphys the pilot came, although the sea 
Dealt gently with the ship whoae ashen helm 
His hand touched ; in the rich BcDotian realm, 
He left oullandish merceries stored np 
With many a brazen bowl and silver cup 
His heirs should feast from in the days to eome. 
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 gi'apes, 
Far on in autumn, when the parched ea,rth gapes 
Eor 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 lair Phcenioian weed 
Glittering tiiui uademeath the tawny ban-. 
Who loosely in his dreadfnl hand did hear 
A club of unknown wood bound ronnd with Iirass, 
And underneath his curled black hair did pass 
A golden circlet o'erwrought cunningly 
With running beasts ; so folk knew this was ho 
That in Amphytrion's palace first saw light. 
And whose first hour began with deadly fight, 
Alcmena's son, the dreadful Hercules; 
The oian whose shout the close Nemean trees 
Had stifled, and the lion met in vain ; 
Thr ravisher of hell, the serpent's bane. 
Whom neither Gods nor fate could overwhelm. 

Now was he come to this TbessaJian realm 
To serve with Jason on the wandering seas. 
Half seeking fame, half wishing to appease 



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so THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Tlie wrath of her who grudged htm ease and rest, 
Vet needs must see him, of all men the best. 
Laughing he went, and with him on each hand 
There i-ode a squire from the Thehan laud ; 
Hylas was first, whose sire, Theodamas, 
Had ^ven him worthy gifts of gold and brass, 
And gold-wrought arms, that he should see no more 
Glitteiing along the green Ismenian shore. 
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 liku Gods they lode, 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 
Sat Jason, watching while an armourer wrought 
A golden crest according to liis thought ; 
And round about the hei-oes were at play, 
Oasfing the quoit ; but on the well-paved way. 
With clanging arms, leapt down Alemena's son 
Ifefore 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, jf wide report says tiue. 
That even now with cinnabar and blue 
Men paint your long ship's prow, and shave the oai-a 
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 ; wberafbre some men say 



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That in Amphytrion's bed my mother lay 
When I was gotten ; and yet other some 
Say that a Gkitl upon that ni^ht did come 
(Whose name I speak not), lilte unto the king, 
With whom Alcmena played, but nought witting. 

" Nor I, nor others know the cejlaintj 
Of all these things ; but certes, rojallj 
My brother rules at Thohos, whom all men call 
Amphytrion's son, in whose well-peopled hall 
Ever am I the least loved guest of all, 
Though, since my name is Hercules, the man 
Who owes me hatred hides it if he can. 

" And now, prince, I bid thee take my hand, 
And hear me swear that till unto this land 
Thou hast home back the fleece across the sea, 
Thy liegc-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 plougli 
■ That DO man reaps ; yet certes, thou alone 
In after days shalt be the glorious one 
Whom men shall sing of when they name the fleeco 
That hore tlie son of Athamas from Greece, 
When I and all these men have eome to nought." 

So spake he ; but the greateyed Juno brought 
His words to nothing, stooping to behold 
Jason's fair head, whereon the locks of gold 
Curled thick and close, and hts grey eager eyes. 
That seemed already to behold the prize 
In faiMiff Colchis, like a God he stood. 
No less than he that in the darksome wood 
Slew (he lake-haunting, many-headed beast. 



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53 TUB LIFE AND DEATH 

But on that day the Minyae held a feast, 
Praising the Gods, and those that they had sent 
Across the sea to work out their intent. 

Yea. ere the night, greater their joyance grew. 
For to the throng of heroes came there two. 
In nowjae worse than any of the best, — 
Castor and PoUus, who thought not to rest 
In wootly Lacedsemon, where the doves 
Make summer music in the beechen groves. 
But rather chose to hear the sea-fowl ang. 

Their mother wedded Tyndarus the king. 
And yet a greater name their father had, 
As men deem ; for that Leda, all uncJad, 
In cold Eurotaa, on a summer mora, 
Bathed her fair body, unto whom waa borne. 
Fleeing from seeming death, a milk-white swan. 
Whom straight the naked i^ueen, not fearing man. 
Took in her arms, nor know she fostered Jove, 
Who rules o'er morial 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 ciied. 
But the next mom into the town did ride 
Ijynceus and Idas, leaving fer away 
Well-walled Messene where the kestrels play 
About the temples and the treasure-house. 
But of these twain was Idas valorous 
Beyond most men, and hasty of his blow ; 
And unto Lyncens would the darkness show 
That which ho lacked ; and of all men was he 
The luckiest to find the privity 
Of gold or gems. And on the selfsame day 
Came Periciymenea, who folk did say 
Had Proteus' gift to change from shape to shape. 

Next from Tegea, where the long green grape 



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Grows yellow in the ilewy autumn night, 
There came Adcegus, stubborn in the light. 

Araphidanius and Apheua left the trees 
Where ang 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 
Of lired nvniphs, stripping the silken weed 
Fronj off their limbs ; nor sliall Acteon's meed 
Betide him there among the oaken trees. 

Nest came there Augeas, who at Elia sees 
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 graang sheep, Araphion came, 
In nowise skilled like him who bore his name. 
The deathless singer, bnt right wise in war. 
Then through the town there passed a brazen car 
Bearing Euphemus, who had power to go 
Drjshod across the plain no man doth sow. 
By Tenanis he dwelt, beside the sea, 
Anigh the temple of the deity 
Whose son he was, the shaker of tho earth. 

Then came » fresh Anoasus, who had birth 
In woody Santos, of the self-same sire 
Whose heart white-footed Alta set on fire. 
As on the yellow aanda at dawn she went. 

Then Calydon the great a hero sent, 
The fiiir-haired Meleager, who became, 
In after-days, the glory of his name, 
The greatest name of the ^tolian land ; 
While yet on him Fate laid her heavy hand. 
In midst of all his glory so raised up. 
Who nowise now dreaded the proffered cup 



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54 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Of life and death she held for him to drain, 
Nor thought of death and wishes wished t» vain. 
With him his uncle rode, Laocoon, 
No longer young, teaching his brother's son 
What 'longed to ruling men and unto war. 

From Lacedeemon, Iphiolus afar 
Had tniTelled till the rich embroidered weed. 
His father Thesljus gave him at Ills 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, 
Areas the hunter, to whose unmatched speed 
All beasts that wander through the woods are slow. 
In his right hand he bare the fatel bow 
Of horn, and wood, and brass, but now unstrung. 
And at his baek a well-closed quiver hung. 
Done round with silver bands and leopard's skin, 
And fifty deaths were hidden well therein 
Of men or beasta ; for whoso stood before 
His bended bow and angry eyes, no more 
Should see the green trees and the fertile eailh. 

Then came two brothers of a wondroas birth, 
Zetea and Calais, sons of Boreas ; 
For he beheld Erechtheus' daughter pass 
Along nissus, one bright windy day. 
Whom from amidst her maids hi- bore away 
Unto the hills of Thrace to be his bride. 
Now unto them this marvel did betide. 
That like fair men in all else, from the head 
Of each sprung winj^s, wherewith at will they sped 
From land to land, 'midst of the pathless air. 

Nest from Magnesia did roan hors^ bear 
Phocus and Priasus, well skilled to cast 
The whistling dart; then o'er the drawbridge passed 
iEtnlian Pakeinonius, who not yet 
Had seen men armed in anger, or steel wet 



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OF JASON. 

With blood of aught but beasts, but none the les 
Was willing now to stand among the press 
Of god-like men, who, with the Minyse, 
Were armed to bring the fleece across the sea. 

Then eame Asclepius, whom the far-darter 
Saved living from the lifeless corpse of her 
He onee lovwl well, but slew, for treason done. 
Fair-haired Coronis, whose far-seoing son 
He honoured much, and taught so many a thing, 
That first he knew how man may ease the sting 
Of sickening pain, because all herbs he knew, 
And what the best and woret of them could do. 
So many a bitter fight with death be had, 
And made the heart of inany a sick man glad, 
And gave new life to many a man who seemed 
But dead already, wherefore people deemed 
■Wlien 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. 
And needs must go with Jason on this ijuost. 
Careless of princely ease and golden rest. 

Next Neleus, growing grey, forgetting not 
The double crime, had left the pleasant spot 
Where the wan Alpheus meets the green sea wa' 
And twice a-day the walls of Pylos laves ; 
For he was fein to expiate the sin 
Pelias shared with him, long years past within 
Queen Juno's temple, where the brothers slew 
The old Sidero, orying out, who knew 
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. 



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56 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

So might Sidero feel, when fell on lier 
UnlooKed-for death and deadly, hopeless fear; 
And in tbeir turn mnst Neleus o'er the sea 
Qd wandering now, and Pelias must be 
A tremhling liar till death seizes him. 

But now with Neleus, youne but strong of limb. 
His wise, lar-seeing offspring, Nesfer, went, 
With eyes a little downward ever bent, 
Thinking of this and that which he had seen ; 
Who, when lus youth was flourishing and green, 
Saw many feats of arms and ways of men, 
Yet lived so long ta be well honoured, when 
In Troy the old the princes shared the spoil. 

Nest came Laertes to share grief and toil 
With these upon the sea ; yet had he not 
An easy land in Ithaca the hot, 
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 elinie. 

Nest whom came Almenua, of nought 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 
He held her long, who vainly fled ftum him, 
Though light of foot she was, and strong of limb. 

And last of all, Orpheus the-singer came. 
The son of King CKager, great of fame, 
Yet happier by much m this, that he 
Was loved by heavenly Calliope, 
Who bore him Orpheus on a happy day. 
And now, through many a rough and toilsome way, 
Hitlier he came the Miny£e to please. 
And make them masters of the threatening seas. 
Cheering their hearts, and making their hands strong 
With the unlooked-fov S' " " ' 



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Nor was it eve liy then that Orplieus came 
Into the hall, and when they heard his name, 
And toward the high-seat of the prince he drew, 
AH men heholding him the singer knew. 
And glad they were, indeed, 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 hewl. 
Son of (Eager, but from me, indeed, 
This gold Daedalian howl shall be thy meed. 
If thou wilt let us hear thy voice take wing 
Prom out thy heart, and see the golden string 
Quiver beneath thy fingers. But by me 
First sit and feast, and happy mayst thou he." 

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, 
And of the feir things stored up oyer 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 Daedalus had wrought, 
So rich it was, and fair beyond all thought. 
Then did he say unto the Minyae : — 
■■ Pair friends and well-loved guests, no more shall yo 
I''ea8t in this hall until we come again 
liack to this land, weU-guerdoned for our pain, 
litiaring the fleece, and mayhap many a thing 
JSuch as this goti-like guest erewhile did sing, 



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58 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Scarlet, and gold, anti brass; but without fail 
Bearing great fame, if aught that may avail 
To men who die ; and our names certdnlj 
Shall never perMi, wheresoe'er we lie. 

" And now behold within the haven rides 
Our good ship, swinging in the changing tides. 
Gleaming with gold, and blue, and rannabar, 
The long new oars beside the rowlocks are, 
Tlie sail hanga flapping in the light west wind. 
Nor aught undone can any craftsman find 
From stem to stern ; so is our quest begun 
To-morroB at the vising of the sun. 
And may Jove biing us all safe back to see 
Another sun shine on this Mr city, 
When elders and the flower-crowned maidens meet 
With tears and Mng^ng our returning feet." 

So spake he, and so mighty was the shout, 
That the hall shook, and shepherd-folk without 
Tho well-walled city heard it as they went 
Unto the fold across the thymy bent. 



BOOK IV. 

BUT through tho town few eyes were scaled by sleep 
When the sun rose ; yea, and tho upland sheep 
Must guard themselves for that one morn at least 
Against the wolf; and wary doves may feast 
Unacared that morning on the ripening com. 
Nor did the whetstone touch the scythe that mom ; 
And all unheeded did the mackerel shoal 
Make green the blue waves, or the porpoise roll 
Through changing hills and valleys of the sea. 



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For 'twixt the (hronging people solemnly 
The liei-oes went afoot along the way 
That led unto the haven of the bay, 
Aod as they went the roses rained on them 
From windows glorious with the well-wrought hern 
Of many a purple cloth ; and all then- spears 
Were twined with flowers that the fair earth bears ; 
And round their ladies' tokens were there set 
About their helmels, 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 ; 
Bat scarce the elders couhl behold dry-eyed 
The glorious show, remembering weU the days 
When they were able too t« 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 most 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 tliat mom, 
Who, with Ups parted and grey eyes forlorn. 
Stood by the window and forgot to cast 
Her gathered flowers as the heroes passed. 
But field 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 thsm to the doubtful sea. 

And now, the streets being passed, they reached the b; 
Wbei-e 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 ; 



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6o THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And as alou^ the quays they drew a-near, 
Faster they strode and faster, till a ory 
Again burst from them, and right eagerly 
Into amft running did they hreak at last, 
Till all the wind-swept quay being overpast, 
They pressed across the gangway, and tilled 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 your eager hands to rope or oar ; 
For now, behold, the king stands on the shore 
Beside a new-built altar, while the priests 
Lead np a hecatomb of spotless beasts. 
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 PeliM takes ; and now may ye behold 
The broad new-risen sun Ught 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 
These gifts come to the God, that, ere long years 
Have drowned our laughter tind dried up our tears, 
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 strtught did Argo reel, 
Set free, and smitten by the western bieeze. 



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And raised herself against the ridgy seas, 

With golden eyes turned towaiii the Colcljian land, 

Still heedful of wise Tiphys' skilful hand. 

But silent sat the heroes by the oar. 
Hearkening the sounds home from the lessening shore ; 
The bwiag of the doomed and flower-erowned 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 pondeiing much and silently, 
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 Neptane, joyful of the sacrifice 
Beside the sea, and all the gifta of price 
That Jason gave him, sent them wind at mill. 
And swiftly Ai^ climbed each changing hill. 
And ran through rippling valleys of the sea; 
Nor toiled the heroes unmelodiously, 
For by the mast sat great (Eager's son. 
And through the harp^trings let liis fingers run 
Nigh soundless, and with ch>sed lips for a while; 
But soon across his face there came a smile. 
And his glad voice brake into such a song 
That Bwifllier sped the eager ship along. 

" bitter sea, tumultuous sea. 
Pull many an ill is wrought by thee ! — 
Unto the wasters of the land 
Thou holdost out thy wrinkled hand ; 
And when they leave the conquered town. 



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TIIK LIFE AND DEATH 

Whose black smoke makes thy surges brown, 
Driven betwist thee and the sun, 
As the long day of blood is done, 
From many a, league of glittering wa^es 
Thou amilest on them and their slaves. 

" The thin bright-eyed Phuenician 
Thou drawest to thy waters wan, 
With ruddy eve and golilen inorn 
Thou temptest him, until, forlom, 
Unhuried, 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 ; 
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 hay, 
Can satiate thee for oiie day. 

" Now, therefore, thou hitter sea. 
With no long words we pray to thee, 
But ask thee, hast thou folt before 
Such strokes of the long ashen oar 1 
And hast thou yet seen such a prow 
Thy rich and niggard waters plough ? 

" Not yet, 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, 
AVarmed by no sunlight any more. 



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" Therefore, iudeeiJ, we joy in tliuu, 
And praise thy greatness, and will we 
Take at thy hands botli good and ill, 
Yea, what thou wilt, and praise tliee still. 
Enduring not to sit at home. 
And wait until the laat days come, 
When we no more may care to hold 
White bosoms under crowns of gold. 
And our dulled hearts no longer are 
Stin'ed by the clangorous noise of war, 
And hope within our souls is dead, 
And no joy is remembered. 

" So, if thou hast a mind to slay, 
Fair prize tliou hast of ua to-day ; 
And if thou hast a mind fo save, 
Great praise and honour shalt thou have ; 
But whalso thou wilt do with ns, 
Our end shall not be piteous, 
Bceanae our memories shall live 
When folk fot^t the way to drive 
The black keel through the heaped-up sea. 
And half dried up thy waters be." 

Then shouted all the lieroes, and they drove 
The good ship forth, so that the birds above, 
With long white wings, scarce flew so fest as they. 
And BO tney 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 thefli of Bacchus, and the wondrous birth 
Of golden Venus. NathelesK, when the sun 
To fell adown the heavens had begun. 
They trimmed the sails, and drew the long oars u]i, 



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64 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

AdcI, having poured wine from a golden cup 
Unto the Grods, gladdened their hearts with food ; 
Then, having feasted as they thought it good, 
Set hands upou the oars again, and so 
Toiled on, until the hroad sun, growing low, 
Beddened the green sea ; then they held their hands 
TiU he should come again from unknown lands. 
And fell to meat agsdn, 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 hegan to die, 
Though still they drifted slowly towards the east ; 
Then with sweet sleep the others crowned their feast, 
But Tiphys and the leader of the rest. 
Who watched till drew the round moon to the west. 
And Jason could behold heneath her light. 
Far off at first, a little speck of white, 
Which, as the grey dawn stole across the sea. 
And the wind 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 Iiemnos ; 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 sun rose, and birds no longer slept ; 
Then as they went they saw a sandy heach 
Under the cliff, that no high wave could reach, 
And in the rock a deep cave out, whereby 
A man was standing, gazing earnestly 
Upon their ship, and shouting words that, tost 
Hither and thither hy the wind, wcw lost 
Amid the tumhling of the ridgy sea ; 
Natholess, they deemed that he still prayed to be 
Their fellow, and to leave those rocky ^ores ; 



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Therefore, with backing of the ashon oars, 
They stayed the ship, and beckoned unto him 
To try the sen, 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 sen, and beat about 
The watera bravely, till be reached the ship ; 
And clambering up, let the salt water drip 
From off his naked limbs, nor spoke he aught 
Until before tbe fmr 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 rive 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, baven or deep bay. 

Then being clothed and fed, the island man 
Game back to Jason, and his tale began : — 

" 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 thb 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 down 
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 ; 
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 rites observed. 



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66 TMS LIFE AND DEATH 

Save only tliat no temple Venus had, 
And from no altars was her heart made glad ; 
Wlieroforo for us she move a bitter fate, 
For by her power she set an evil hate 
Of man, tike raadness in each woman's heart. 
And heavy sleep on ns men, for our part. 
From which few woke, or woke in time to feel 
Against their throats the pitiless sharp steel. 

" But that there might be one to t«ll the thing. 
Nigh dawn I woke, and, turning, thought to cling 
TInt» the warm side of my welMoved wife. 
But found nought there but a keen two-edged knife ; 
So, wondering much, I gat me from the bed, 
And going thence, found all the floor be-b!ed 
In my son's sleeping place, and nigh the door 
His body, hacked and hewn, upon the floor: 
NaJced he was, hut in his clenched right hand 
Held tufta of woman's hiur. 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 ; hut the golden sua 
Came forth at last, and daylight was beffun ; 
Then trembling I look heart to leave at last 
The lonely bouse, but, as I slowly passed 
Into the porch, a dreadful noise I heard, 
Nor shall I be again by aught so feared. 
How long soe'er I live, as I was then. 
Because that shout was worse than erics of men 
Drunken with blood ; but yet as in a dream 
I went to meet it, and heard manj 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 why. 
But looking back in running, could espy. 
With shrinking horror, what kept up trie chase. 

" Because, indeed, the old familar place. 



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From house-wall unio house-wall, was now filled 
With frantic women, whose thin voices shrilled 
With unknown war-orieK ; little did they heed 
If, as they tote along, their flesh did bleed 
So that some man wa^ slain, nor feared they now 
If they each other smote with spear or bow. 
For all were amjed 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 slatn men had. 
And some their kirtles wore looped up or rent. 

■' So ever at ns 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, tiU some two or three. 
As still the others strove confusedly, 
Bnrst from the press, and, heading all the rest. 
Ban mightily, and the last men, hard pressed. 
Turned round upon them, and straightway were slain. 
Unarmed and faint, and 'gan the growd to gain 
Upon the fleeing men, till one by one 
They fell, and looked their last upon the sun. 
And I alone was held in chase, until 
I reached the top of a high thymy hill 
Above the sea, bleeding from arm and back, 
Wherein two huntsmen s arrows Eghtly 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. 
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, riang fearfully. 



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68 TIIF! LIFE AND DEATH 

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. 
And in the nights I went along the beach 
And got me shell-tish, and made shift to reach 
Some few birds' eggs ; but natheless miseiy 
Must soon have slain me, had not the kind sea 
Sent jou, lords, to give me life agMn ; 
Therefore, I pray, ye may not wish in vain 
For aught, and that with goods and happiness 
The fiither 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 
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 
Shall some man give thee what thou countest dear. 

" And if thou askest of us, know that we 
Are ehildien of the conquering Minyse, 
And make for Colchis o'er the wateiy plain. 
And think we shall not fail to bring again 
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 grading fiile 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 be was armed, lie seemed a goodly man. 

Meanwhile, along the high chifs Argo ran 
Until a fresh land-wind began to rise. 



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Then did they set sail, and in goodly wise 

Draw oiF from Lemnos, and at close of day 

Again before them a new country lay, 

Which when they neared, the helmsman Tipliya knew 

To be the Myaiao land ; being come thereto, 

They saw a grassy shore and trees enow, 

And a sweet stream that from the land did flow ; 

Therefore they thonght it good to land thereon 

And get them water ; but, the day being gone. 

They anchored till the dawn, anigh the beach 

Till the sea's rim the golden sun did reach. 

But when the day dawned, moat men left the ship, 

Some hasting the glazed watei'-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-ferera there landed three 

Amongst the best, Alcmena's godlike son, 

Hylaa the feir, and that half-halting one. 

Great Polyphemus. Now both Hercules 

And all the othei'S lay beneath the trees. 

When all the jars were filled, nor wandered far ; 

But Hylas, governed by some wayward star, 

Str^ed from them, and up stream he set his face. 

And eame unto a tangled woody place. 

Prom whence the stream came, and within that wood 

Along its bank wandered in heedless mood. 

Nor knew it haunted of the sea-nymphs fiiir. 

Whom on that morn the heroes' noise did scare 

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 down-swinging carelessly, 

And fresh face, ruddy from the wind-swept sea. 



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■JO THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Then Btraight they loved him, and, being fain to have 
His shapely body in tlie glassy wave, 
And taking counsel there, they thought it good 
That one should meet hira in the darksome wood, 
And by her wiles should draw hira to some place 
Whore they his helpless body might embrace. 

So from the water stole a fair nymph forth, 
And by her art SO wrought, that from the north 
You would have thought her come from where a qaeet 
Rules over lands summer alone sees green ; 
For she in goodly raiment, furred, was olad, 
And on her head a golden fillet had. 
Strange of its iaehion, and about her shone 
Many a lair jewel and outlandish stone. 

So in the wood, anigh the river side. 
The coming of fLe Theban did she bide, 
Nor waited long, for slowly pushing through 
The close-set saplings, o'er the flowers blue 
He drew nigh, sin^ng, 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 mind came old tales half forgot, 
Of women of the woods, the huntsman's bane. 

Yet with bis fate indeed he strove in vain ; 
For, going farther forward warily, 
From tree-trunk nnto tree-trunk, he could see 
Her lovely 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 writhmg in distress, 
Wrapped in the bright folds of her golden dress. 

Then forthwith he drew near her eagerly, 
Nor did she seem to know that he was^igh, 



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Until almost hia hand on her was laid ; 

Then, lifting up a pale wild lace, she said, 

Struggling with sobs and shrinking from hia hand ; — 

" fwr young warrior of a happy land, 

Haiin not a queen, I pray thee, for I come 

Prom the far northland, where yet sits at home 

The king, my father, who, since I was wooed 

By a rion lord of Grreeco, had thought it good 

To send me to him with a royal train. 

But they, their hearts being changed by hope of gain. 

Seized 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 nieht 

Shall make an end of me, who erewliile thought 

That untn lovelier lands I was being brought, 

To live a happier life than heretofore. 

" But why think I of past limes any more. 
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, 
Perehance art come, some God, unto my need ; 
For nothing less thou seemest, verily. 
But if thou art a man, let me not die, 
Bttt take me as thy slave, that I may live. 
Por many a gem my raiment has to give. 
And these weak fingers surely yet may learn 
To turn the mill, and eanr forth the urn 
Unto the stream, nor shall my feet unshod 
Shrink from the flinty road and thistly sod." 

She ceased ; but he stooped down, and stammering said : 
" Mayst thou be happy, most lovely maid, 
And thy sweet life yet know a better day ; 
And I wilt strive to bring thee on thy way, 
Who am the well-loved son of a rich man 
Who dwells in Thebes, beside Tsmenus wim." 



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72 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Therewitli he reached his hand to her, and she 
Let her slim palm fall in it daintily; 
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 bers 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 fcot did hold, 
Then through the tangled wood began to go. 
Not looking round ; hut he eared not to know 
Whither they went, so only she was nigh. 
So to her side he hurried fearfuUy, 
She nought 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 hank a flickering shade and cool 
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 chiefest 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. 
As though she grew aweary, and she said, 
Turning about her fair and glorious head : 
" Soft is the au- in your land certainly. 
But under foot the way is rottgh and dry 



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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 sueh flowery grass 
As this, that soothly muideth me too much 
Of that my worshipped feet were wont to touch. 
When I was called a queen ; let ua not haste 
To leave this sweet place for the tangled waste, 
I pray thee, therefore, prinee, but let us lie 
Beneath these willows while the wind goes hy. 
And set our hearts to think of happy things, 
Before the morrow pain and trouble brings." 
She faltered somewhat as sbe spoke, but he 
Drew up before her and took lovingly 
Her other band, nor spoke she more to him, 
Nor he to her awhile, fill, from the rim 
Of his great shield, broke off the leather 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 hold within that little sjmce, 
He set his cheek unto her blushing face, 
And smihng, in a low voice said ; 

" sweet. 
Call it an omen that this, nowise meet 
For deeds of love, has h& me hy 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 
Hia father's Indian serving-man had wrought. 
And cast his steel coat off, from Persia brought ; 



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74 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And so at last being freed of brass and sl«el, 
Upon his breast he laid her hand to feel 
Tlie softness of tlie fine Phienician stuff 
That clad it still, nor yet eould toy enough 
With that fmr hand ; so played they for a spaoe, 
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 afnud 
To cast thine armour off, as I have done, 
Within this covert where the fieiy sun 
Scarce strikes upon one jewel of your gown t " 

Then she spake, reddening, with her eyes cast dow 
" prince, behold me as I am to-day, 
Bnt if o'er many a rongh and weary way 
It hap onto us both at last to come 
TJnto the happy place that is thine home, 
Then let me he 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, God, whatso thou wilt must surely be. 
But would that I might die or be asleep 
Till we have gone aciosB 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." 

" love," she said, " and such a fair timo 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 mtirmuring song. 
Sung to such notes as to our folk belong ; 
Such as my maids awhile ago would sing 
When on my bed a-nights I lay waking V " 

" Sing on," he said, " but let me dream of bli^ 
If I should sleep, nor yet forget thy kiss." 



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OF JASON. 

She toudied his lips with hers, and then hn^sn 
A sweet song sung not yet to any man. 

" I know a little garden close 
Set thick with lily and red rose, 
Where I would wander if I might 
From dowy dawn to dowy night. 
And have one with me wandering. 

" And though within it no biiils sing, 
And though no pillared bouse is there, 
And though the apple houghs 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 lair streams are. 
Drawn from the pnrple hills afar. 
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, 



Unto the place for which I cry. 

' ' For whieh 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, 
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 (he unforgotten face 
Once seen, once kissed, once reft from me 
Anigh the murmuring of the soa." 



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76 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

She ceased her song, that lower for a while 
And slower too had grown, and a soft smile 
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 tlie northern robe done round with fur 
That hid her beauty, and the light west wind 
Played with ber hair no fillet now did bind. 
And through her faiut grey garment her Umbs sccino 
Like ivory in the sea, and the sun gleamcil 
Iq the strange jewels round her middle sweet. 
And in the jewelled sandals on her feet. 

So stood she murmuring till a rippUng sound 
She heard, that grew until slie 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, 
And their white dripping arms and shoulders gleam 
Above the dark grey water as they went. 
And etill before them a gi'eat ripple sent. 

But when they saw her, toward the bank they dre 
And landing, felt the grass and flowers blue 
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 swell. 
Unto the depths where they were wont to dwell ; 
Then softly down the reedy Kink they slid, 
And with small noise the gurgling river hid 
The flushed nymphs and the heedless sleeping man. 

But ere the wafer covered them, one ran 
Across the mead and caught up from the ground 
The brass-bound spear, and buckler bossed and roun 



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Oir JASON, 77 

The ivory-hilted sword, and coat of mail, 

Then took the stveam ; so what might i&\\ the tale, 

Unless the wind should tell it, or the bird 

Who from the reed these things had seen and hoard ? 

Meanwhile, the ship being watered, and the day 
Now growing late, the prince would fain away ; 
So from the ship was blown a horn to call 
The stragglers back, who mustered one and all, 
But Theban Hjhis ; therefore, when they knew 
That he was missing, Hercules withdrew 
From out the throng, if yet perchance his voice 
Hytas might hear, and all their hearts rejoice 
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 
Of white-walled, feir Larissa, or the plain 
Burdened by many an over-laden wain. 

For, while their cries and shouts rang through the wood, 
The others reached the ship, and thought it ^od 
To weigh the anchor, and anigh the shore. 
With loosened sail, and run-out ready oar. 
To trim the ship for leaving the fiiir bay ; 
And therefore, Jnno, waitjng for that day. 
And for that hour, had gathered store of wind 
Up in the hills to work out all her mind, 
Which, from the Mysian mountains now lot 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 



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78 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

A figure standing, witb wide wings of gold, 

Upright, amid tlie weltering of the sea, 

Calm 'midst the noise and cries, and presently 

To bU their ears a voice pierced, saying : " No more, 

O Jove-blessed heroes, strive to reach the shore. 

Nor seek your lost companions, for of these 

Jove gives you 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. 

Then huild in Mysia a fair merehanfr-town. 

And when long years have passed, there lay hiin doivn 

And as for Hylus, 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, 

Forgetting the rough world, and every care ; 

Not dead, nor living, among fiiees feir. 

White limbs, and wonders of the watery world. 

"And now I bid ye spread the sail ye furled. 
And make on towards the straits while Jano 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 sla'aits, \mt al! 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 ilame ; 
Yea, some must go and touch the empty space 
From whence those woi'ds flew from the godlike face ; 
But Jason and the huDder, Argus, knew 
Whereby the prow tbretold things strange and new, 
Nor wondered aught, but thanked the Gods tberefoi'c, 
As far astern tliey left the Mysian shore. 



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BOOK V. 

NOW, driven liy the oar, and feeling well 
The wind that, made the fair white sail outswell, 
ThessaliaQ Argo flew on toward the place 
Where first tho rado folk saw dead Helle'a face ; 
There, fearful of the darkness of the ni^ht 
Without the rocka they anuhorpd till tlip li^ht 
And when the day broke sped them tliiough the straits 
With oars alone, and through the nam w gitoi 
Came out into Propontis where with oar 
And sail together, within "flght of bhoie 
They went, until the sun was feUiug down 
And then they saw the white walls of a town. 
And made thereto, and being como anigh, 
Tliey found tliat on an isle the place did lie, 
And Tiphys called it Cyacum, a place 
Built by a goodly man of a groat i-ace. 
Himself caUed Cyzicus, Euwrus' son, 
^Vho still in peace ruled over many an one, 
Blerchants and other, in that city fair. 

Therefore, they thought it good to enter there. 
And going softly, with sails struck, at last 
Betwist the two walls of a port they passed, 
And oa the i^uays 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 be knew, he cried : " heroes, land. 
For here shall all things he at your command ; 
And here shall you have good rest from the sea." 
Therewith he sent one to go speedily 
And tell the king these folks were landed there. 

Then passed tlie heroes forth upon the fair. 



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8o THE LIFE A2iD BEATH 

Well Imilded quays ; and all the mercha.nt folic 
Beholding them, ft-om golden dreams awuko, 
And of the sword and clattering shield grew fain, 
And glory for a while they counted gain. 

But Ja^n 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 
And led him through the rows of linden trees 
Unto his house, tlie crown of palaces ; 
And there he hoaoui'ed them with royal feast 
In his {ku* hall, hung round with man and bca^st 
Wrought in lair Indian cloths, and on soft, beds, 
When they grew weary, did they lay their head.-. 

But he, when on the mom they would away. 
Full many a rich gifl in their keel did lay, 
And while their oars were whitening the green sea. 
Within Ida temple he prayed reverently 
For their good ha,p to Jove the Saving God. 
Hapless himself that these had evi^ trod 
His quiet land; for, sailing alt 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 
Of moon and stars, and therefrom leapt a wind 
That dvave the Argo, tottering and blind. 
Back on her coui'se, and, as it died, at last 
They heard the breakers roaring, and so cast 
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 whUe tbere came 
A rout of armed men thereto, as nught 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 



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OF JASOy. 

Were distant scarce a bowshot, and tlie tide 
Had ebbed so c^uiclc tbe sands were well nigh dried 
Betwixt them and the foremost of the foe. 
Who, ere they could push off, began to go 
Across the wet l>eaeh, and with many a cry 
The biting arrows fi-om 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 ; 
Bat when the sky at last grew groy, and when 
Dimly the Argo's crew could see their foes, 
Then overboard they leapt, that they might close 
With these scarce seen fiit^fighting enemies. 
And so met man to man, crying their cries, 
In deadly sliock, hut Jasoa, for his part, 
Rushing before the rest, put by a dart 
A tall man threw, and closing with him. dravo 
His spear through shield and brcasl>plate weak to sav' 
His heart ftvm 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 
The yellow sands fringed like a garment's hem. 
Nor gave the seafarers much chase to them, 
But on tho hard sand all together drew. 

And now, day growing, they the country knew 
And found it Cydcum, and Jason said : 
"Fellows, what have we done? by likely-head 
An evil deed, and Inokless, but come now, 
Draw ofi'the helmet from this dead man's brow 
And name him." So when they had done this thing 
They saw the face of Cyacus the king. 

But Jason, when he saw hhn, wept, and Siud ; 
" HI hast thou fared, friend, that I was led 
To take tliy ^fta and slay thee ; in such gnise, 



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82 THE LIFE ASD DKATII 

Blind and unwitting, do fools die and wiso, 
And I myself may liap to eome to die 
By that I trusted, and like thee to lie 
Dead eve 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, 
And build a temple when I come to Greece 
A rich man, with the fair-curled golden fleece, 
And Bet them there, and call it by thy nhrae. 
That tliou mayst yet win an undying feme," 
Then hasted all the men, and in a while, 
'Twixt sea and woodland, raised a mighty pile, 
And tliei'e thoy burned him, but for spices sweet 
Could cast thereon but wrack from 'neath their feet, 
And wild wood flowers and resin fiora the pine ; 
And when tho pile grew low, with odorous wine 
They quenched the ashes, and the king's they set 
Within a golden vessel, that with Iret 
Of twining boughs and gem-made flowers was wrought 
That they from Petias' treasni'O-house had brought. 
Then, since the sun liis high meridian 
Had loft, they pushed into the waters wan. 
And m, with hoisted sa.iI and stroke of oar, 
Drew off from that unlucky fateful shore. 

Now eastward with a fair wind as they went, 
And towards the opening of the ill sea hont 
Their daring course, Tiphys arose and said ; 

" Heroes, it seems tu me that hardihead 
Helps mortal men but little, if thereto 
They join not wisdom ; now needs must we go 
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 groen 



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Are pounded by some witeli-wife on the sbore 
Of Pontus, — for tbese two rocks evermore 
Each agMBst each ace driven, and leave not 
Aciwa the whole strait anch a little spot 
Safe from the grinding of their mighty hlows, 
As that throu^ which a well-aimed amvi goes 
When archers for a mateh 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 
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 thoy reached not till the moonlit night 
Was come, and from tiie shore the wind hlew light ; 
Then they lay to until the dawn, and then 
Creeping along, found an a>iode of men 
That Tiphys knew Ifl be the place they sought, 
lliereat they shouted, and right qu'.ekly brought 
Fair Argo to the landing-place, and threw 
Grapnels ashore, and landing forthwith drew 
Unto the town, seeking Phiuens the king. 
But those thoy uiet and asked about this thing 
Grew pale at naming him, and few words said ; 
Natheless, they being unio the palace led. 
And their names told, soon were they bidden in 
To where the king sat, a man blind and thm. 
And haggard beyond measure, who straightway 
Called out aloud : " Now blessed be the way 
That led thee to me, happiest of all 
Who from the poop see the prow iise and Ml 
And the mi bellying, and the glittering oars ; 
And blessed he the day whereon our shores 



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84 TUK LIFE AND DKATII 

First felt thy footsteps, since aei-oss tlie sea 

My liope aad my reyenge 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, 
Than hring thee any ^fts, for, sootlily. we 
Sail, desperate men and poor, across the sea." 

Then answered Phineus : " Guest, I know indeed 
What ^ft 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 shaD ye see how wise a man am I, 
And how well-skilled to 'scape from misery." 

Therewith he groaned, and bade his folk to hvm" 
Such feast as 'longed unto a mighty king, 
And spread the board therewith ; who straight obeyeil, 
Trembling and pale, and on the tables laid" 
A royal feast most glorious in show. 

Then said the king : " I mve you now to know 
That the Gods love me not, guests ; therefoi'e, 
Lest your expected feast be troubled sore. 
Feast by yourselves alone while I at here 
Looking for that which scarcely brings me fear 
This day, since I so long have suffered it." 

So, wondering at his woiiis, they all did sit 
At that rich board, and ate and drank their fill ; 
But yet with little mirth indeed, for still 
Within their ears the king's words harshly rang, 
And his blind eyes, made restless by some pane. 
They still felt on them, though no word he m\S. 

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 tilings below 
And things above." 



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OF JASON. 

Then, hearkening to this word, 
Tlie most of tliem grew doubtful and afeard 
Of what should come ; but aow unt« the board 
The king was led, and nigh his band his sword, 
Two-edgod and iTory-hiltod, 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, 
Increaang 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 Minya 
Beheld tlie daughters of the earth and sea. 
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 lo spiing 
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 leathered were they else, with many a stain 
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 



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86 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

The wretched king, and one, perched on his head, 
Laughed as the fuiiea lau^h, when kings come down 
Tu lead new lives within the tiury town. 
And said : " Phineu,^, thnu art lucky now 
The hidden things of heavea and hell to know ; 
Eat, happy man, aod drinlt." Then did she draw 
From off the dish a gobbet with her ckw. 
And held it nigh his month, the while he stroro 
To free his ami, that one hovering above. 
Within her filthy vultnre-olaws clntohed tight, 
And cried out at him : " Truly, in dark night 
Thou seest, Phineua, as the leopard doth." 

Then cned the third : " Fool, who would fain have both 
Dotiffht and knowledgi, tharofore with blind eyes 
Clothe thee in purple, wrought with braveries, 
And set the pink-veined marble 'neath thy ttiFone ; 
Then on its golden cushions sit alone. 
Hearkening thy chain-galled slaves without ningiug 
For joy, that they behold so many a thine." 

Then shrieked the first one in a dreadful voice : — 
" And I, Phineus, bid thee ia rejoice. 
That 'midst thy knowledge still thou know'st not this — 
■\Vhose flesh the li[is, wherewith thy lips I kiss. 
This morn have fed on," Then she laughed again, 
And fawning on him, with her-sisters twain 
Spread her wide wings, and hid him from the sight. 
And mixed his groans with screams of shi'ill delight. 

Now trembling sat the seaiarers, nor dared 
To use the weapons from their sheaths ha]f-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 North-winds' offspring, since, upon that day. 
Their father wrought within them in such way. 
They had no fear : but now, when Phineus knew. 



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OF JASOJf. 

By liis diyine art. that the godlike two 

Were aimed to help hira, tlien fium 'twixt the wings 

He cried aload ; " 0, heroes, more than kings, 

Strike, and fear not, but set me free to-day. 

That je within your brazen chests may liiy 

The best of all my treasure-house doth hold, 

Fail' linen, scarlet c)oth, and well-wrougiil gold." 

Then shi'ieked the snatcliers, knowing certainly 
That now the tiine had come when they raust fly 
Fitim pleasant Salmydessa, casting off 
The joys they had in shameful mock and scoff. 
So gat they fi-om the blind king, leaving him 
I'ale and ftirewearied in his eveiy limb ; 
And, flying thi-oiigh the roof, they set them down 
Above the hall-dooi's, 'mid the timbers bn)wn. 
Chattering with fuir- 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. 

Then here and there those loathly things did fly 
Before the brasen shields, and swoi'ds raised hifh, 
But as tiiey flew unlucky words they cried. 

The first said : " Hail, folk who wander wide. 
Seeking a foolish thing across the sea, 
iS'ot heeding in what case your liouses be, 
Where now perchance the lovers 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 ta meet." 

" Fair hap to hiin who weds the sorceress," 
The second cried, " and may the just Grods bless 
'i'he slayer of his kindred and his name." 

" Luck to the toilsome seeker after lame," 
The third one from the open hall door cried, 
" Faro ye well, Jasion, still nnsatistied, 
Stiil seeking for a better tiling than he?l. 



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88 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

A fairer tiling tlian fairest, without rest ; 
Good speed, traitor, who shall think to wed 
Soft limbs and whit«, and find thy ropl bed 
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 
Spning from the North-wind's loins (o be their bane. 
Drew nigh unto them ; then, with huddled wings, 
Forth from the hall they gat, but evil things 
In flying they gave forth with weakened voice, 
Saying unto them : " ye men, rejoice, 
Whose bodies worms shall feed on soon or late. 
Blind slaves, and foolish of unsparing fate. 
Seeking for that whioh 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 tlew 
Before the swift wings of the godlike two 
Far over land and sea, until they were 
Anigh the isles called Stropbades, and there, 
With tired wings, all voiceless did they light. 
Trembling to see anigh the armor bright 
The wind-born brothers bore, but as these drew 
Their gleaming swords and to the monsters flew, 
From ont the deep rose up a black-haired man. 
Who, standing on the whito-topped waves that ran 
On towards the shore, cried : " Heroes, tuni agiun. 
For on this islet shall ye land in vain, 
But without sorrow leave the chase of these 
Who henceforth 'mid the rocky Strophades 
Shall dwelt for ever, servants unto me, 
Working my will, therefore rejoiee that ye 
Win ^fts and honour for your deed to-day." 



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OF JASOX. 8g 

Then, even as he spoke, they saw hut grey, 
White headed waves rolling where he had stood, 
Whereat they sheathed their swords, and through their hlood 
A tremor ran, for now they knew that he 
Was Neptune, shaker of the earth and sea ; 
Therefore they turned them hack unto the hall 
Where yet the others were, and ere nightfall 
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 
From that which took all hope and joy away ; 
Therefore (o feast again, untd 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 ; 
Such as (he 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 pain ; 
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, 
When all the year was summer everywhere, 
^nd every man and woman blest and fair. 

So, set 'twixt pleasure and some soft regret. 
All eares of mortal men did they forget, 
Except the vague desire not to die, 
The hopeless wish to flee from certMuty, 
That sights and sounds we love will bring on us 
In this sweet fleeting world and piteous. 



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THE LIFE AND DEATH 



BOOK VI. 



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 wrought, aod goodly 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, 
Ready their hands upon the ropes to lay, 
Phineus, who 'midst his mighty lords was there. 
Set high above them in a royal chair, 
Said : " Many a gift ye have of me to-day 
Within your treasuries at home to lay. 
If so it be that through hard things and pain 
Te come to the horse-nurturing land again ; 
Natheless, one inoi-e gift shall ye have of me. 
For lacking that, Iwnoath 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 tuniing, he began t« call 
Unto his folk to bring what they had there. 
Then one brought forward a cage great and fair, 
Wherein they saw a grey, pink-fooled dove. 

Then said the king ; " The very Gods above 
Can scantlj help you more than now I do. 
For listen ; as upon this day ye go 
Unto the narrow ending of the sea, 
Anigh the clashing rocks lie patiently. 
And let the keenest-eyed among you stand 
Upon the prow, and let loose from his hand 
This dove, who from my iriouth EoKla,j has heard 
So many a mystic and compelling word. 



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OF JASON. 

He cannot choose, being loosed, but fly down straight 

Unto the opening of that dreadful gate ; 

So let the keen-eyed watch, and if bo be 

He comes out safe into the evil sea, 

l^hea bend noto 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. 

Thereafter, if ye vrill, come back to me. 

And if ye find nought in my treasury 

That je desire, jet 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 foresworn, but by some way 
Will reach the oak-grove and the Golden Fleece, 
Or, failing, die at least far ofi' from Greece, 
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, fi'ee from ill, 
Lite happy as thou mayst, and honoured still." 

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 lost 
Of fame and noble deeds, and happy prize. 
But the bird Lyneeus took, unto whose eyes 
The night was as the day, and fire as air. 



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92 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Then back into his marble palace fair 
The king turned, thinking well upon the way 
Of what had happed since morn of yesterday. 

Now from the port passed Argo, and the wind 
Being (wr for sailing, quickly left behind 
Fair Salniydessa, 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 
Prom 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 i-ocks ; but nothing clear 
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 Lyneens might 
Just now and then behold the deep blue, shine 
Betwist the scattering of the silver biine ; 
But sometimes 'twist the clouds the sun would pass 
And show the high rocks glittering like glass. 
Quivering, as far beneath the chumed-up waves 
Were ^und together the strong arehed cates, 
Wherein none dwelt, no, not the Rant's hi-ood, 
Who fed the green sea with liis lustful blood, 
Nor were sea-devils even nurtured there. 
Nor dared the sea-worm use them for its lair. 

And now the Minyse, 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 
Was Juno good at heed, who set stranrre fire 
In Jason's heart, and measureless desire 



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OF JASON. 

To be the first of men, and made his voice 

Clear as that hecald'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, ahove the crash and thundering, 

The Minyje heard his shrill, calm voice, crying : — 

" Shall this he, then, an ending to our questV 

And shall we find the worst, who sought the best? 

Far better had ye sat heside yoar wives, 

And 'mid the wine-cups lingered out your lives, 

Dreaming of nohle deeds, though trying none. 

Than as vain boasters, with youi' deed undone. 

Come back to Greece, that men may sing of you. 

Are ye all shameless V — are there not a few 

Who have slain fear, knowing the unmoved fates 

Have meled out already what awaits 

The coward and the hrave^ Ho ! Lynceus ! stand 

"Upon the prow, and let slip from your hand 

The wise king's bird ; and all ye note, the wind 

Is steady now, and blowing from behind 

Drives us on teward the dashers, and I hold 

ITie 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, 

But strike for .^a through this unknown land, 

Whose 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 
Whereunto Lynceus set hia eager face. 
And loosed the dove, who down the west mind flew ; 



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94 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

TheQ all the others lost her, dashing through 
The clouds of spray, biit LyniMiUS noted how 
She reached the open space, just as a blow 
Had spent itself, and still the hollow sound 
Of the last clash was booming all around ; 
And eagerly he noted how the dove 
Stopped 'niazod, and hovered for awhile above 
The troubled sea, then stooping, darted through, 
As the blue gleauiing 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 slu^shly. 

Then back their poised oars whirled, and straight tlioy 
drave 
Unto the opening of the spray-arched cave ; 
But Jason's eyes alone, of ail the crew, 
Beheld the sunny sea and eloudlesii blue 
Still narrowing, but briglit from rock to rock 

Now as they neared, came tbe next thundeimg -jliook, 
That deafened all, and with an icy cloud 
Hid man from man ; but Jason, shoating loud, 
Stil! clutched the tiller ; and the oars, grasped tight 
By mighty hands, drave on the ship foitbnght 
Untn the rocks until with blinded eyes, 
They hlinl ed one moment at tiiose myiteriea 
Unseen befoie the nest they felt the sun 
Full on their backs and knew tlieir deed wa^j done. 

Th n en their oars they lay, and Jison turned. 
And o ei the rocliS beheld how Ins burned 
In fail dnd harmless many-coloured flame, 
And he beheld the way by which they came 
Wide open, changelees, of its spray-clouds cleared ; 
And though in his bewildered ears he heard 
Tlie tumult yet, that all was stilled he knew, 



^b, Google 



OF JASON. 

While in and out the unusecl sea-fowl flew 
Betwixt tbein, and the now suhsiding sea 
Lapped round about their dark feet quietly. 

So, tuming to the Minyse, he cried ; — 
" See ye, fellows, the gates opened wide. 
And chained fast by the Gods, nor think to miss 
The very end we seek, or well-earned bliss 
When once again we feei our country's earth, 
And 'twist the tears of elders, and the mirth 
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 Neptune s temple, nigh the murmuring main." 

Theu all men, with their eyes now cleared of hriiie, 
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, 
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, 
Having good wind at wiU, then aped 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 ; 
No, not the pilot ; so (hey thought it good 
To arm themselves, and thus in doubtful mood 
Brought Argo to the port, and being come nigh, 
A clear-voiced herald from the land did cry ; 
" Whoso yo be, if that ye come in peace, 
King Lycos bids you hail, but if from Greece 



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96 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Ye como, and are the folk of whom we Iiear 
Who make for Colchis, fi-ee fi'om any feai' 
Then doubly welcome are je, here take laml, 
For everything shall be at your commaod." 

So without fear they landed at that word, 
And told him who they were, which when he heanl, 
Through the fau: 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 
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 wretoh, who could foresee 
Full many an unknown thing that was (o be, 
And yet not this, whose corpse thej burnt with fire 
Upon a pnrple-eovered spiee-strewn pyre. 
And set bis ashes in a marble tomb. 
Neither could Tiphya there escape his doom. 
Who, after sufTermg many a bitter storm. 
Died bitten of a hidden crawling worm, 
As through the woods he wandered all alone. 
Now he being burned, 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 t!iey beheld 
For seven days hut sea and changeful sky. 



^b, Google 



But on the eightli (lay could Lynceus espy 

A land fer off, and nigher as tliey drew 

A low green shore, backed up by niountfuns blue, 

Clefl here and there, all saw, 'tmsthope and fear, 

For now it seemed to them they should be near 

The wished-for goal of ^a, and the place 

Where in the great sea Phasis ends his race. 

So, creeping oarefiilly along the beach, 
The mouth of a green river did they reach, 
Cleaving the sands, and on the yeUow bar 
The salt waves and the fresh waves were at war, 
As Phryxufl erst beheld them, but no man 
Among them e'er 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 strdght keel 
The eddying stream against her bows did feel. 

So, with the wind behind them, and the oars 
Still hard at work, thej wont 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 shoop, 
And skin-clad shepherds, roused fium 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, 
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 ease. 
That on an island builded was the place 
The more part of it ; but four bridges fair. 



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98 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Set thick with goodly houses everywhere. 
Crossed two and two on each side to tlie land, 
^Vhe^eon was buiU, with walla on either hand, 
A lowered outwork, lest that war should fall 
Upon the land, and midmost of each wait 
A noble gate ; moreover did they note 
Ahout 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 
Sonnd from a tower o'er the watery way. 
Whose last loud note was taken up straightway 
By many another farther 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 
Pair feme, the love of Gods, and praise of men ; 
Be strong and play the man, I bid you then, 
For cartes in none other wise shall ye 
Come back again to grassy Thessalj." 

Then loud they shouted, clean forgetting fear, 
And strong Erginus Argo straight did steer 
On to the port ; hut through the crowded waist 
Ban Jason to the high prow, making haste 
To be the first to look upon that throng. 
Shieldless he was, although his fingers strong 
About a sharpened brass-bound spear did meet, 
And as the ashen oars swept on, his feet 
Moved lightly to their cadence under him ; 
So stood he like a God in fece and limb. 



^b, Google 



Now drawing quickly nigh the landing-place, 
Little by little did they sla(i their pace, 
Til! half a bowshot from the shore they lay ; 
Then Jason shouted : " Wliat do ye to-daj 
All armed, wai'riors? and what town is this 
That here by seeming ye have little bliss 
Of quiet life, but, smothered up in steel. 
Ye needs must meet each harmless merohant keel 
That nears your haven, thougli perohance it bring 
Good news, and many a mueh-deaired thing 
That je may get good cheap 'i and such are we, 
But mayfiirers upou ihe troublous sea. 
Careful of that stored up within our hold, 
Phrenician scarlet, spice, and Indian gold. 
Deep dyeing-earths, and woad and cinnabar, 
Wrought arms and vessels, and all things that aro 
Desired much by dwellere in all lands ; 
Nor doubt us friends, although indeed our hands 
Lack not for weapons, for the unfenoed head, 
Where we have been, soon lies among the dead." 

So spake he with 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 lieaps 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 
Apart to right and left, leaving a man 
Alone amifit them, unarmed, with a wan 
And withered face, and black beard mixed with grey 
That swept his ^rdle, who these words did say : — 

■' seafiirers, I ^ve 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 ; 



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loo THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Now, since indeed ye folk are but a few, 

We fear yoa not, yet fain would that we know 

Your names and countiies, since within this town 

Of ^a may a good man lay 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, grown hungrier for fame. 
With eager heart, and fair face flushed for pride, 
Said : " King .^tes, if not over wide 
My name is known, that yet may come to be, 
For I am Jason of the Minyse, 
And through great perils have I come fiwm Greece ; 
And now, since this is ^a, and the fleece 
Thou alayedst once a guest to get, hangs up 
Within thine house, take many a golden cup, 
And arms, and dyestuffe, 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 prioe 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, 
The Gods and we may bring thee bitt«r care." 

Then spake Mai^a : " Not for any word, 
Or for the glitter of thy bloodless sword, 
youngling, will I ^ve the fleece to thee. 
Nor yet for gifts, — for what are such to mo ? 
Behold, if all thy folk joined hand to hand. 
They should not, striving, be enough to sland 
And girdle round my bursting treasure-house; 
Yet, since of this thing thou art amorous. 
And I love men, and hold the Grods in fear. 
If thou and thine will land, then mayst thou hear 
What great things thou must do to win the fleece ; 
Then, if thon wilt not dare it, go in peace. 



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OF JASON. i< 

But come now, thou slialt bear it amidst wine 
And lovely things, and songs welt-nigh divine, 
And all the leasts that thou hast shared erewhilo 
With other kings, to mine shall be but vile. 
Lest thou shouldat name mo, coming to thy land, 
A poor guest-fearing man, of niggard hand." 

So spake he outwai-dly, hut inly thought, 
" Within two days this lading sball he brought 
To lie amongst my treasures with the beat. 
While 'neath the earth these robbers lie at rest." 

But Jason said ; " King, if these things be sueh 
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 lor nought 
Such lives as oura by none are lightly bought. 

" Draw on, heroes, (o 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, lesa and more, 
And the king spake to Jason honeyed 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 ; 
Natbeleas, 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 theae thoughts, between the fair streets led, 
He noted well the size and goodly head 
Of all the houses, and the folk woU clad. 
And armed as though good store of wealth they had, 
Peering upon them with a wondering gaze. 



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I02 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

At last a templo, bnilt in ancient days 

Ere JEsL was a town, they camo unto ; 

Huge was it, but not &ir unto the yiew 

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, 

Who makes the brown earth green, the green earth wan, 

From spring to autumn, through quick following days, 

The lovely archer with his crown of rays. 

Now over against this temple, towering high 
Above all bouses, rose majestically 
.^tes' marble house : silent it stood. 
Brushed round by doves, though many a stream of blood 
Had trickled o'er its stones ance it was built. 
But now, unconscious of all woe and guilt. 
It drank the sunlight that fair afternoon. 

Then spake .^tes : " Stranger, thou sbalt soon 
Hear all thou wouldst hear in my house of gold ; 
Yet ere thou enterest the door, behold 
Tliat ancient temple of the Far Darter, 
And know that thy desire bangeth there. 
Against the gold wall of the inmost shrine. 
Guarded by seven locks, whosekeys 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 p;ut. 
Nor look to see me turn back feint of heart, 
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, Kiog, thy house is fair, 



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And here I tbink to see foil many a tting _ 

Men love ; so, wliatao the nest 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 thmgs to make the heart grow hot 
With joy and lon^ng," 

As he spoke, within 
Blew up the horns, as when a kin^ 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 entei'cd, and the Jlinyfe did stand 
In such a hall as there has never l)een 
Before or afterwards, since Ops was queen. 

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 I'ed as blood. 
Set thick with silver flowers, and delight 
Of intertwining figures wrought aright. 
With richest webs the marble walls were hnng. 
Picturing sweet stories by the poets sung 
From ancient days, so that no wall seemed there. 
But rather forests black and meadows fair. 
And streets of well-built towns, with tumbling seas 
About their marble wharves and palaces ; 
And fearful eraga and mountmns ; and all trod 
By many a changing foot of 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 



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I04 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

O'er wondrous gem-Iiko pebbles, green and brown, 
Betwixt smooth banks of marble, and therein 
Biigbt-coloured fish shone through the wafer (tin. 

Now 'midst these wonders were there (ables spread, 
Whither the wondering seafarers were led, 
And there with meat and drink full delieate 
Were feasted, and strange daintj things they ate. 
Of unused savour, and dmnk godlike wine ; 
While fi-om the golden galleries, divine, 
Hearl^^ftening music breathed about the place ; 
And 'twist the pillars, at a gentle pace. 
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 MinjK there, and for their paita 
Few woi'ds they said, because, indeed, their hearts, 
O'er-burdened with 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. 



BOOK YII. 

SO long they sat, until at last the sun 
Sank in the sea, and noisy day was done. 
Then bade Metes light tbe place, that they 
Might turn grim-looking night into the day; 
"Whereon, the scented torches being bi-ought. 
As men with shaded eyes the shadows sought. 
Turning to Jason, spake the king these words : — 
" Dust thou now wonder, guest, that with shai'p 
And mailed breasts of men I fence myself, 



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Not an a podlar guarding his poor pelf, 

Bat as 3 God shotting the door of heaven '? 

Behold ! 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 

Divine foreshowinga of the oracle, 

And thus they warn me. Tlieroforo shalt thou hta 

What well may fill a hero's heart with fear ; 

But not from rny old lips ; that thou mayst have, 

Whether thy life (hou here wilt spill or save. 

At least one joy before thou eoniest fo die : — 

Ho, ye, hid in my lady presently ! " 

But Jason, wondering what should eomo of this, 
With heart well steeled to suffer woe or bliss. 
Sat waiting, while within the mu'4c ceased, 
But from without a strain rose and inireaseJ, 
Tilt shrill and clear it drew onigh the hall, 
But silent at the entry did it fall ; 
And through the place there was no other sound. 
But falling of light footsteps on the ground. 
For at the door a hand 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 
Alone before the others to the board. 
And said : " ^etes, father, and good lord. 
What is it thou wouldst have of me to-night 1 " 

" daughter," said .^tos, " tell aright 
Unto this king's son here, who is my guest. 
What things he must aooomplbh, ere his quest 
Is finished, who has eome this day to seek 
The golden fell brought hither by the Greek, 
The son of Athamas, the unlucky king. 



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lo6 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

That he may know at last for what a thing 
He left the meadowy land and peaoeful stead." 

Then she Iti Jason turned her golden head, 
And reaching out her lovely arm, took up 
Prom off the Iward a rich foir-jewelled cup, 
And said ; " Prince, these hard things must ye do : 
Firat, going to their stall, bring out the two 
Grreat brazen bulls, the king my fether feeds 
On grass of Pontus and stiange-nuitured seeds ; 
Nor heed what they may do, but take the plough 
That in their stall stands ever bright enow. 
And on their gleaming necks east thou the yoke. 
And drive them as thou mayst, with try and stroke, 
Through the grey acre of the God of war. 

" Then, when turned up the long straight furrows a 
Take thou tlie sack that holds the serpent's teutli 
Our fiithors slew upon the sunlese heath ; 
There sow those evil seeds, and bide thou thei-e 
Till they send forth a strange crop, nothing fair. 
Which garner thou, if thou canst 'scape from deaih. 

" But if thereafter still thou drawest breath, 
Then shalt thou have (he seven keys of the shrine 
Wherein the beast's fair golden looks yet shine ; 
But yet sing not the song of triumph then. 
Or think thyself the luckiest of men ; 
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. 

"If then with such an one thou needs must fight, 
Or knowest arts to tame him, do thy worst. 
Nor, carrying ofi' the prize, shalt thou be cursed 
By us or any God. But yet, think well 
If these three things be not impossible 
To any man ; and make a bloodless end 



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Of this thy quest, and as my father's friend 
Well gifted, in few days return in peace, 
Lacking for nought, forgetful of the fleece." 

Therewith she made an end ; but while she spoke 
Came Love unseen, and cast bis 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 bis grey eyes, on fire 
With that that buined her, then with sweet new shame 
Her feir 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 diink in token that thy life is passed, 
And that thy reckless hand the die has cast." 

Therewith she reached the cup to him, but he 
Stretched out hia hand, and took it joyfully. 
As with the cup he touched her dainty hand. 
Nor was she loth, awhile with him to stand. 
Forgetting all else in that honeyed 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 ; 
And down the hall the clustering Blinyse 
Shouted for joy his godlike face to see. 
But she, depaiting, made no further sign 
Of her desires ; but, while with song and wine 
They feasted till the fevered night was late, 
Within her chamber sat, made blmd by fate. 



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lo8 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

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, 
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 inte 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. 

So, ft'ora the city being gone apace, 
Turuing the boat's head, did she near a space, 
Whore, 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 last. 
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 
Undid the bands that bound hor yellow hair 
And let it float about her, and made bare 
Her shoulder and light arm, and, kneeling down. 
Brew ofif her shoes, and girded up her gown. 
And in tho river washed ner silver feet 
And trembling bands, 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, 
And draw back shrinking, then press on again 
With eager steps, not heeding fear or pain ; 



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OF JASON. 10 

At last an open space sLe eame unfo, 
Where the fiiint glimmering starlight, shining through, 
Showed in the midst a circle of smooth grass, 
Through which, from dark to dark, a stream did pass, 
And aU around was darkness like a wall. 

So, kneeling there, she let thu wallet fall, 
And from it drew a bundle of strange wood 
Wonnd ail ahont with strings as red as blood ; 
Then breaking these, into a little pyre 
The twigs she built, and swiftly kindling fire, 
Set it alight, und 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 
And thrust it in her bosom, and at last 
Into the darkness of the trees she passed. 

Meanwhile, the fire burned with clear red flame, 
Not wasting aught; but when again she came 
Into its light, within her caugbt-up gown 
Much herbs she had, and on her head a crown 
Of dank nigh^flowcring grasses, known to few. 

Bnt, casting down the mystic herbs, she drew 
From out her wallet a bowl polished bright, 
Brasen, and wrought with figures black and white, 
Which from the stream she filled with water thin, 
And. kneeling by the lire, 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 dull the fire grew. 



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no THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Unto her fragrant breast ter hand she set. 

And drew therefrom a hag of silken fret, 

And into her right palm she gently shook 

Three grains of something small that had the look 

Of miUet 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 
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 misliketb thee? 
TVhat crown but thine is on mine unliotind hair. 
What jewel on mine arms, or have I care 
Against the flinty windings of thy wood 



" And this my raiment : Goddess, from three Ian 
The fleeces it was woven with were brought 
Where deeds of thine in ancient days were wrough 
Delos, and Argos, and the Carian mead ; 
Nor was it made, Goddess, with small heed ; 
By unshod maidens was the yarn well spun, 
And at (he moonrise the close web begun, 
And finished at the dawning of the light. 

" Nought hides me from the unseen eyes of nigl 
But this alone : what dost thou then to me. 
That at my need my flame sinks wretchedly. 
And all is vain I do t Ah, is it so 



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OF JASON. 1 1 1 

That to some other helper I must go 
Better at need? wilt thou then take my part 
Once more, and pity my divided heart 'i 
For never was I vowed to thee alone, 
Nor didst thou bid me talie the tiglit-drawn zone, 
And follow through the twilight of the trees 
Tlie glancing limhs of trim-shod huntresses. 
Therefore, look down upon me, aiid see now 
These grains of what thou knowest, I will throw 
Upon the flame, and then, if at mj need 
Thou still wilt help me, help ; hut 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 fire did she fling 
The unknown grains; hut when the Three-formed heard 
Prom out her trembling lips that impious word, 
She granted all her asking, though she knew 
What evil road Medea hurried to 
She fein had barred agdnst 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 ; 
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 Vildering to the sight ; 
Which when she saw, the VMsel off she drew. 
As though the ending of her toil she knew. 
And cooling for a while she let it stand, 
But at the last therein she laid her hand, 



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112 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And when she drew it out she thrust the same 
Amidst the Are, but neithei' coal or flame 
The tender «>sy hand could 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 
tohe drew out from the wallet, and straightway 
Swppinff the mouth, in its own place did lay 
The weU-wrought phial, girding to her aide 
The wallet that the precious thing did hide ; 
Then all the remnants of the herbs she cast 
On to the fire, and straight therefrom there passed 
A high whit« flame, and when that sunk, outright 
The fire died into the voiceless night. 

But toward the river did she turn again. 
Not heeding the rough ways or any pain, 
But running swiftly came unto her boat, 
And in the mid-stream soon was she afloat. 
Drawn onward toward the town by flood of tide. 

Nor heeded she that by the river side 
Still lay her golden shoes, a goodly prize 
To some rough fisher in whose sleepy eyes 
They first should shine, the while he drew his net 
Agmnst the yew wood of the Goddess set. 

But slie, swept onward by the hunting stream, 
Down in the east beheld a doubtful gleam 
That told of dawn ; so bent unto the oar 
In terror lest her folk should wake before 
Her will was wrought ; nor failed she now to hear 
From neighbouring homesteads shrilly not«s and clea 
Of waking cocks, and twittering from the sedge 
Of restless birds about ihe river's edge ; 
And when she drew within the city walls. 
She heard the hollow sound of rai« footfalls 



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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 wat«r-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, 
Swiftly by passages and stairs she ran, 
Trembling and pale, though not yet seen by man. 
Until fo Jason's chamber door she came. 

And there awhile indeed she stayed, for shame 
Eose up agiiinst her fear ; but iniglity love 
And the sea-haunting 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 ; 
Then entering the dimly-lighted room, 
Where with the lamp dawn struggled, through the gloo 
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, 
Drew nigh him, and from out his slackened hand 
With slender rosy fingers drew the brand, 
Then kneeling, laid ber hand upon his breast. 
And said : "0 Jason, wake up from thy rest. 
Perchance from thy last rest, and speak t« me." 

Then fell his light sleep from bira 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 lior visage fair, 
She whispered ; " Smite not, for thou hast no sword, 



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114 THE LIFE AKD DEATH 

Sptak not above thy breath, for one loud word 
May slay both thee and me. Day grows apace ; 
What day thou knowest ! Canst thou see toy face ? 
Last night thou didst behold it with such eyes. 
That I, Medea, wise among the wise, 
The safeguard of my father and his land, 
\V'ho 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 touohed ere thou. Alas, quick comes the day ! 
Draw back, but hearken what I have to say, 
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 deatli. 
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 unasked fi'nitless kiss 
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 ciystal without flaw 
Shaped like an apple, scoi'ed with words about, 
Then said : " But now I bid thee iiave no doubt. 
With this oil hidden by these gems and gold 
Anoint thine arms and body, and be bold. 
Nor fear the flre-breathing bulls one whit. 
Such mighty virtue have I drawn to it, 
Whereof I give thee proof." Theremth her hand 
She thrust into the lamp-flame that did stand 
Anigh the bed, and showed it him again 
TJnscarred by any wound or drawn with pain, 



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OF JASON. IIS 

Then said : " Now, when Mars' plain ia ploughed at last, 

And in the furrows those ill seeds are cast, 

Take thou this hall in hand and watch the thing ; 

Then shall thou see a horrid crop upspring 

Of all-armed men therefrom to be thy hane, 

Were I not here to make their fury vain. 

Draw not thy sword against them as tliey rise, 

But cast this bail amid them, and their eyes 

Shall serve them then but little to see thee, 

And each of others' weapons slain shall be. 

" Now will my father hide hia 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 tryest the Temple of the Fleece. 
Trust not to him, but see that unto Greece 
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. 

" Now will I get by stealth the keys that hold 
The seven locks which gum-d 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 (ire ? 
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 pine-wood in some rocky place, 
Wreathing around my body greedily, 
A dreadful beacon o'er the leaden sea," 

Biit Jason drew her to him, and he said : — 
" Nay, by these tender hands and golden head. 
That saving things for mo have wrought to-night. 



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ii6 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

I know not wliat ; Ly this unseen delight 
Of thy fair body, may I rather burn, 
Nor may the flame die ever if I turn 
Back to my hoUow ship, and leave thee here. 
Who in one hour 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 ? 
Is grey and tender yet, and in your land 
Surely the twilight, lingering long, doth stand 
'Twist dawn and day. 

To save your life. I oast off 
A little while, but fear and shame are here. 
The hand thou boldest trembles with my fear, 
With shame uiy cheeks are burning, and the sound 
Of mine own voice : but ere this hour comes round, 
We twain will be betwixt the dashing oars. 
The ship still making for the Grecian shores. 
Farewell, till then, though in the lists to-day 
Thyself sbalt see me, watching out the play." 

Therewith she drew off from him, and was gone. 
And in the chamber Jason left alone, 
Piuising 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 himi for the strife, 
And ere the sun his orb began to lift 
O'er the dark hills, with fair Medea's gift 
His arms and body he anointed well. 
And round about his neok he hung the spell 
Against the eartli-born, the fair ciystal ball 
Laid in a purse, and then from waU to wall, 



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OF JASON. 

Athwart tlie ehamlicr paced full eai^erly, 
Expecting when the fateful time should be. 

Meanwhile, Medea coming to her i-oom 
Unseen, lit up the slowly parting gloom 
"With scented torches : then hound up her hair. 
And stripped the dark gown from her body fair, 
And Idd 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 hera had ever happed to see. 

Then wearied, on her bed she cast her down, 
And strove to think ; but soon the uneasy frown 
Faded from off her brow, her lips closed tight 
But now, just parted, and her fingers white 
Slackened their hold upon the eoverlit. 
And o'er her fiice fiiint smiles began to flit, 
As o'er the summer pool the faint soft air. 
So instant and so kind the God was there. 



BOOK VIII. 

NOW when she woke again the bright sun glared 
In at the window, and the trumpets blared, 
Shattering the slug^sh air of that hot day. 
For fain the king would be upon his way. 
Then straight she called her maidens, who forthright 
Bid 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. 
Holding the ivory rod of sovereignty. 
And JaiMn and his folk were standing by. 



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Il8 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Now was Mttes saying : " Minyfe, 
And YOU, my people, wlio are here by me, 
Take heed, that by his wilful act to-day 
This man will perish, neither will I elay 
One man among you. Nay, Prince, if you will, 
A safe return I give unto you still." 

But Jason answered, smiling in his joy : — 
" Oni?e more, .^tes, nay. Against this toy 
My life is pledged, let all go to the end." 
Then, lifting up hia eyes, he saw his friend. 
Made fresh, and bvelier 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 fail, fall ! 
Since time it is that we were on the way ; 
And thou, daughter, shalt be there to-day. 
And see thy lather's glory once more shown 
Before our folk and those the wind has blown 
From many lands to see this play played out." 

Then raised the Colehians a mighty shout, 
And doubtful grew the Minyte of the end, 
Unwitting who on that day was their fiiend. 
But down the hall the king passed, who did hold 
Medea's hand, and on a car of gold 
They mounted, drawn anigh the earven door. 
And spearmen of the Colehians went before 
And followed after, and the Minyse 
Set close together followed solemnly. 
Headed by Jason, at the beels 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 turning to the right, 
Into a close they earae, where there were dight 
Long galleries about the fateful stead, 
Built all of marble Mr and roofed with lead, 



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OF JASON. 119 

And carved about witb stories of old time, 
And aU around tbem golden litiea of rhyme. 
Moreover, midmost was an image made 
Of mighty Mars who maketh kings afraid, 
That looked down on an altar budded iajr, 
Wherefrom already did a fire gkre 
And made the hot air glassy with its heat. 
So in the gallery did the king take seat 
With fair Medea, and the Colehians stood 
Hedging the twain in with a nH|hty wood 
Of spears and axes, wbUe the Minya) 
Stood off a space the feted things to see. 

Ugly and rugged was that spot of ground, 
And with an iron wall was closed around, 
And at the ^rther 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 die seafarin* men 

But trembled, gazing on the deadly pen. 

But Jason only, who before the rest 

Shone like a star, having upon his breast 

A golden corslet from the treasury 

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 wrouglit, 

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 ; 

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 ungloved hand 

Bore nought within it but an olive wand. 



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ISO THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Now King jEetea well beholding hira, 
Fearless of mien and so unmatched of limb, 
Trembled a little in his heart as now 
He bade (he horn-blowers the challenge blow, 
But thought, ' What strength can help him, or wbat he;irt, 
Or which of all the Gods be on his part 't ' 
Impioua, who knew not through what doubtful days, 
E'en from his birth, and perilous rough ways, 
Juno had brought hira safely, nor indeed 
Of his own daughter's quivering lips took heed, 
And restless hands wherein tlie God so wrought, 
The wise man seeing her had known her thought. 

Now Jason, when he heard the challenge blow, 
Across the evil follow 'gan to go 
With face beyond its wont in nowise pale, 
Nor footstep faltering, if that might avail 
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 tlic glowing wicket open wide. 

But Le alone, apart from his desire, 
Stood unarmed, facing those two founts of fire. 
Yet feared not aught, for hope and fear were dead 
Within bis 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, 



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OF jason: izi 

Baffled they stopped, still bellowing, and the flame 

Still spouting out from nostril and from mouth, 

As from some island mountain in the south 

The tremhling mariners behold it cast ; 

Hut still to right and left of him it passed, 

Breaking upon him as cool water might. 

Nor banning more, except that from his sight 

All comers of the cage were hidden now. 

Nor knew he where to seek the brazen plough ; 

As tfl and fro about the quivering cage 

The monsters rushed in helpless and blind rage. 

But as he doubted, to his eyes alone 
Within the place a golden Ught outshone, 
Scattering the clouds of smoke, and he beheld 
Once more the Goddess who his 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 wall, 
Through which he passed, and found a grisly stall 
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 lie brought 
Unto the door, nor found the Goddess thei-e. 

Who in the likeness of a damsel fair, 
Colchian Methai'ma, through the spearmen passed, 
Bearing them wine, and causeless terror oast 
Into their foolish hearts, nor spared to go 
And 'mid the close seafaring ranks to sow 
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, 



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123 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And drove them now with shouts out through the door 
Which in Buoh guise ne'er had they passed before, 
For ne?er were they made the earth to till, 
But rather, feeding iiit, to work the will 
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 liad suekeJ. 

Now in the open field did Jason stand 
And to the plough-stilts set his unused hand, 
And down betwixt them lustily he hent; 
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 ; — 
" Draw nigh, King, and thy new ploughman see, 
Then mayat thou make me shepherd, too, lo thee ; 
Nor doubt thou, doing so, irom out thy flock 
To lose but one, wlio 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 Eubcea, and this fire 
Of the feir altai' where my joyful sire 
Will pour out wine to Neptune when I come 
Not empty-handed back unto my home." 

Such mocks he said ; but when the sunlight broke 
Upon his armour through the suljihurous smoke. 
And showed the lengthening furrow cutting through 
The ugly fallow as anigh they drew, 
The joyful Minyie gave a mighty shout ; 
But pale the king sat with brows knit for doubt, 
Muttering : " Whose counsel hast thou taken, then. 
To do this thing, which not the best of men 
Could do unholpen of some sorcery? 



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Whoso it 18, wise were he now to ilia 

Ere yet I know him, since for ntanj a day 

Vainly for death I hojie to hear him pray." 

Mea.nwMIe, asltance Medea eyed the kimr. 
Thinking nought safe until that everything" 
Was finished in the Colchian land, and she 
No more heheld its shores across the sea; 
But he, beholding her pale visage, thought 
Grief like to his such paleness on her brought, 
And turning to her, said : " How pale thou art ! 
Yet let not this first foil go to 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 stammeiing, she said ; " Were it not best 
To give him that which he must have at last, 
Uefore he slays usV" But jEetes east 
A sharp glance at her, and a pang shot throuo-h 
His weary heart as half the truth he knew. 
But for one moment, as he made reply 
In passionate words : " Then, daughter, let mc die ! 
And, ere I die, beheld thee led along 
A wretched slave to suffer grief and wrong 
In far off lands, and Ma at thy back 
Nought but a huge flame hiding woe and wrack. 
Before from out my wUHng open hand 
This wonder, and the safeguard of my land 
A God shall take ; and such this man is not. 
What ! dost thou think because his eyes ai'e hot 
On tender maidens he must he a God V 
Or that because firmly this field he trod 
Well-fenced with magic V Were he lite to me, 
Grey-htured and lean, what Godhead wouldst thou sco 
In such an one ? Hold, then, thy peace of this. 



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124 '^^^^ ^^^^ -^^^ DEATH 

And thou aLalt see thy God full widely miss 
The mark he aims at, when from out the earth 
Spring up those brothers of an evil birth." 

And therewithal he gazed at her, and thought 
To see the rosy flush by such words brought 
Across her fiice ; as in the autumn eve, 
Just as the sun's last half be^ns to leave 
The shivering world, both east and west are red. 
But calm and pale she turned about her head, 
And sfud : " My fether, neither were these words 
My words, nor would I struggle with iny lords ; 
Thou art full wise ; whatso thine heai't would have 
That do, and heed me not. who fein would save 
This glory of thy kingdom and of tliee. 
But now look up, and soothly thou shalt see 
Mara' acre tilled : the field is ready then, 
Bid them bring forth the seed that heareth men." 
Again with her last words the shouts broke out 
From the seafarers, 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. 

And now another marvel : for, behold, 
As at the furrow's end lie slacked l»is hold 
Upon the plough-stJlts, aU the bellowing 
Wherewith the beasts had made the grim close ria^^ 
Fell suddenly, and all the fire died 
That they were wont erewhile to scatter wide 
From mouth and nostril, and their loins and knees 
Stifiened, and ihey grew nought but images 
Lifelike hut lifeless, wonderful but dead, 
Such as he makes, who many a day hath fed 
His furnace with the beeehwood, when the clay 
Has grown beneath his deft hands day by day 



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And all is ready for tlie easting, then 

Suoh things as these he makes for royal men. 

But 'mid the shouts turned Jason to the king. 
And said ; " Ffur 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 
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 Uiey gave, if so the thing must bo. 
But do thou t^e this sack from out my hand 
And oast its seed about the new-tilled land. 
And watch the issue ; and keep words 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 
Tlie white teeth scattering, but or ere he came 
Back to the altar, and the flickering flame. 
He heard fium 'neath the earth a mutl«red sound 
That gi'ew and grew, till all that piece of ground 
Swelled into little hillocks, like as where 
A stricken field was foughten, but that there 
Quiet tlie heroes' hones lie underneath 
The quivering grasses and the dusky heath ; 
But now these heaps the labouring earth upthrew 
About Mars' acre, ever greater grew. 
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 



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ia6 TUE LIFE AND DEATH 

Oiangeii into loud strango shouts and warlike clang. 
As with freed feet at last the earth-horn sprang 
On to the tumbling earth, and the sunlight 
Shone on bright arms clean ready for the fight. 

But terribly they showed, for through the place 
Not one there was but had his stai'ing face. 
With great wide eyes, and lips in a set smile, 
Tui'ned full on Jason, who, for a sliort while. 
Forgot indeed Medea's waniing word, 
And ivofa its golden sheath half di'cw his sword. 
But then, remeinhoring all, cried yaliantly ; — 
" New born ye are — new slain too shall ye be, 
Take this, and round about it read your doom. 
And hid them make new dwellings in the tomb, 
Wherefroni ye came, nor ever should have passed." 

Therewith the ball among the host he cast, 
Standing to watch what nest that folt would do. 
But he the ball had smitten turned unto 
The one who stood hy him, and like a cup 
Shattered his head ; then the nest 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, 
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 Ins time has come to die. 
But paasionlees each bore him in that fight, 
Scaiise otherwise than as a smith might smite 
On sounding iron or bright glittering brass. 

So, little by little, did the clamour pass 
As one hy one each fell down in his place. 



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Until at last, midmost the blomly space. 
One man was left, alive but wounded sore. 
Who, stariDS round about and seeing no moi'O 
Hia brothere spoara against him, fixed his eyes 
Upon the queller of those mysteries. 
Then dreadfiiUy they gleained, and with no word. 
He tottered towards him with uplifted sword. 
But scarce he made three paces down the field, 
Ere ohill death reached his heart, and on his shield 
Chitt«rin" he fell. So satiate of fight 
Quickly uie earth-bom were, and tbeir delight 
With what it fed on perished, and one hour 
Kipened the deadly fruit of that fell flower. 

Then Jason, moeking, cried unto the king : — 
" wonderful, indeed, must be the thing 
Thoti guardest with such wondrous guards as these ; 
Make no delay, therefore, but bring the keys 
That I may see this dear delight of all." 

But on .^tes' 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 be spake out at last : — 
" No haste, dear guest, for surely now is passed 
All enmity from 'twist us, since I know 
How like a Gfod thou art ; and thou shalt go 
To'morrow to thy ship, to make for Greece ; 
And with no trial more, bear back the fleece 
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 &om strife. 
And now lo-night be merry, and let time 
Be clean forgotten, and bring Saturn's clime 
And golden days upon our ftlwo^^;^owned brows. 
For of the unseen foture what man knows ''. " 



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128 THE LIFE AAD DEATH 

" King," said Jason, " for these words I praise 
Thy wisdom much, and wish thee hnppy dajs. 
And I will ^ye thee honour as I can, 
Naming thee ever as a nobJe man 
Through all the lands I eome to ; and will take 
Thy gifts, indeed, and thou, for Jason's sake, 
Shalt have gifla too, whalso thy soul may wish. 
From out onr keel that has escaped the fish." 

So spake thoac wary foes, fair friends in look, 
And so in words great gifts they gave and took, 
And had small profit, and small loss thereby. 
Nor less Medea feigned, but angrily 
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 mit pace. 
In guise of folk that hold high festi¥al, 
Since strmghtly had ,^tes bid that all 
Should do the strangers pleasure on that day. 
But warily went Jason on the way. 
And through his folk spread words, to take good hood 
Of what might come, and ready be at need, 
Nor yet to take .^tes 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 bounds in slip, 
Holding the oars, within the hollow ship. 

" Nor doubt," said he, " that good and glorious 
The end shall be, since all the Gods for us 
Are fighting certdnly : but should death come 
Upon me in this land, then turn back home, 
Nor wait till they shall lay your bones with mine, 



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Since now I think to go unto tlie shrine, 
Tbe while 3-6 wait, and talie therefrom the fleece. 
Not all unholpen, and depart in peace, 
While yet the hurkarous king beliolde vs dead 
In dreams alone, or through his waking head 
The vile plots chase each other for our death." 

These things he said, hut scarce above his hreath. 
Unto wise Nestor, who beside him went, 
Who unto Butes strwght the message sent, 
And he to Phlias, so the words at last 
Throughout the wondei'ing seafarers liad [lassed. 
And so wers all made ready for tlie night. 

But on that eve, with manifold delight, 
.^etes feasted tliem in hU fair liatl ; 
But they, well knowing what might chance to fall. 
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, 
Searce doubtful of the end, since only two 
In all the world, she and iEetea, knew 
Where the keys were, hx from the light of day, 
Beneath the palace. So, in garments grey. 
Like tlie soft creeping twilight did she go. 
Until she reached a passage far below 
The river, past whose ooaing walls of stone 
She and the king alone had ever gone. 

Now she, who thns far had come through tlio dark. 
Stopped, and in haste striking a little spark 
From somethia" 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 througli made haste to pass. 



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130 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Shuddering a little, as her feet 'gan tread 
Upon a dank culd floor, tliougli oveihead 
High-arched the place was, fairly built enow. 

But she across the slippery floor did go 
Uoto the other wall, wherein was huijt 
A little aumhije, with a door o'cr-^lt. 
That with the st«ry of King Atharaas, 
And Phryxas, and the i-am all carven was. 
There did she draw forth from her balmy breast 
A yellow flowering herb, that straight she pressed 
Upon the lock, low mutteiing the while ; 
But soon across her face there passed a smilo. 
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 move 
Through the black darkness on from floor to floor. 

And so, being come to Jason, him she found 
AU armed, and ready ; therefoi*, with no sound. 
She beckoned him to follow, and the twain ■ 
Passed through the hrazen 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. 
Or face seek fiice ; for, gladsome as they were. 
Trembling with joy to be at last so near 
The wished-for day, some God yet seemed to be 
'Twist the hai'd pst and their felicity. 



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BOOK IX. 

BUT wheQ tliej reached the precinct of the God, 
.And on the hallowed turf their feet now ti-od, 
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 liave been used to drink. 
And how I cast it to the ground for thee. 
Upon the day thou weariest of me, 
I wish that thou raayst somewhat iJiink of this. 
And 'twist tliy new-found kisses, r.nd the bliss 
Of something sweeter than thine old delight, 
Remember thee a little of this uiglit 
Of marvels, and this starlit, sUent place. 
And those two lovers standing face to fiice." 

" love," he said, " by what thing shall I swear. 
That while I live thou elialt not be less dear 
Than thou art now?" 

" Nay, Kwuot," she said, " let 
Wert tbou more fickle than the restless sea. 
Still should I love thee, knowing tlifo 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 n;c bat 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 seta me free, and sniff the rough salt seas. 



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132 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Look ! yonder thou majst pee armed shadows steal 

Down to the i^uajs, the guiders of thy keel ; 

Now follow me, though little shalt thou do 

To gain this tbing, if Hecate be tnae 

Unto her servant. Nay, di'aw not thy sword, 

And, for thy life, speak not a single w^rd 

Until I bid thee, else lutiy all be lost. 

And of this game our lives yet pay the cost." 

Then toward (he brazen templeioor she went, 
Wherefroni, half-open, a fiiiut gleam was sent ; 
For little need of lock it had forsooth. 
Because its sleepless guftrdian 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, thongh his restless, glittering eyes 
Gave unto them no least hope of surprise. 
Hideous he was, where all things else were fiur ; 
Dull-skinned, foul-spntted, with lank rusty hair 
About his neek ; and hooked yellow claws 
Just showed from 'neath his belly and huge jaws. 
Closed in the hideoas semblance of a smile. 
Then Jason shuddered, wondering with what wile 
ITiat fair king's daughter such a beast could tame. 
And of his sheathed sword had but little shame. 

But being within the doors, both mantle grey 
And heavy gown Medea cast away, 
And in thin clinging silk alone was clad, 
And round her neck a golden chain she had. 
Whereto was hung a harp of silver white. 
Then the great dragon, at tliat 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 deUeious things ; 



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But now slie beckoned Jaaon to hor side, 

For slowly towards them 'gan the beast to glide, 

And when close to his love the hero came. 

She ■whispered hrea,thlessly : " On me the blame 

If here we perish ; if I g^ve the word, 

Then know that aU is lost, and draw thy sword, 

And manlike die in battle with tlio 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 ne cometh, thou Goddess bright, 

What help wilt thou be unto me this night 7 " 

So murmured she, while ceaselessly she drew 
Her fingers through the strings, and fuller grew 
The tinkling music, but the beast drawn nigh 
Went slower still, and turning presently 
Began to move around them in a ling. 
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 : — 



Tob 

Unto the river-haunting folk t 

Was it the God of Day that broke 

The shadow of thy windless trees, 

Gleaming from golden palaces, 

And shod with Hght, and armed with light, 

Made thy slime stone, and day thy night, 

And drove thee forth unwiUingly 

Within his golden house to lie '! 

" Or was it the slim messenger. 
Who, treading softly, free from fear. 
Beguiled thee with his smiling face 
From out thy dim abiding place, 



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134 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

To follow him and set thee down 
Midst of this twice-washed royal town 1 

" Or was it ratlier the dread Lord 
Who slayeth without apeav or sword. 
And with the flower-culling maid 
Of Enna, dwelleth in the shade, 
^Vho, with stflm voice compelling thee, 
H^h set thee here, our bane to be '! 

" 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, hut 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, 
Who, passing swift from glade to glade, 
The forest dwellers maltes afraid 
With shimmering of her silver bow 
And dreadful arrows 1 Even so 
I bid thee now to yield to me. 
Her maid, who overmastered thee, 
The three-formod dreadful one who reigns 
In heaven and the fiery plains, 
But on the green earth best of all. 

" IjO, now thine upraised crest let fall, 
Kelax thy limbs, let both thine eyes 
Be closed, and bestial fantasies 
Fill thy dull head till dawn of day 
And we are for upon our way." 

As thus she sung the beast seemed not to hoai 
Her words at first, but ever drew anoar, 
Circling about them, and Medea's face 



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Grew pale unto the lips, though still tlie pkcB 

Itung with the piercing sweetness of her song; 

But slower soon he dragged bis length along, 

And on his limbs he tottered, till at last 

All feebly bj the wondeiing prinoe 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 ke^ ; haste ! while the Gods above 

Are friendly to us ; there behold the shrine 

^Vhere thou canst see the lamp of silver shine. 

Nay, draw not death upon both thee and me 

-With fearless kisses ; fear, until the sea 

Shall fold green arms about us lovingly. 

And kindly Venus to thy keel he iiigh." 

Then lightly from her soft side Jason stept, 
While still upon the beast her foot she kept, 
Still murmuring softly many an unknown word, 
As when through half-shut casements the brown bii-d 
We hearken when the night Js come in June, 
And thick-leaved woods are 'twixt us and his tuue. 

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 Neptune 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 flie heavenly one. 
Such art therein the cunningest of men 
Had used, which little Jason heeded then. 



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136 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

But tlirusting in the lock the smallest key 

Of tlioao he bore, it opened easily ; 

And then five others, neither wrought of gold, 

Or carved with tales, or lovely to behold. 

He opened ; hut before the last one stayed 

His hand, wherein the heavy key he weighed. 

And pondering, in low muttered words he said : — 

" The piize is reached, which yet I somewhat dicai 
To draw unto me ; since I know indeed, 
That henceforth war and toil shall be my meed. 
Too late to fear, it was too late, the hour 
I left the grey cUffe and the heeehen 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 quiekener of the light, 
Named by a great name — a fai^babbled name. 
The ceaseless seeker after praise and fame. 

" 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 stret«hed his hands 
Out toward the sea-born wonder of all bnds. 
And buried them deep in the locks of gold, 
G-rasping the fioece within his mighty hold. 

Which when Medea saw, her gown of grey 
She caught up from the ground, and drew away 
Her wearied lixit 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 groy mantle laid 
Over the fleece, whispering : " Make no delay ; 



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OF JASON. 137 

He sleeps, who never slept by night or day 

Till now ; nor will hia charmed sleep be long. 

Light-foot am I, and sure tbine arms are strong ; 

Haste, then ! No word ! nor turn about to gaze 

At ine, 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 
Stark blaek agunst the stars : then cautiously 
Peered Jason forth, ere they took heart to tty 
The open starUt place ; but nought he saw 
Except the night-wind twitching the loose straw 
From half-unloaded keels, and nought he heard 
Bnt the strange twittering of a caged green bird 
Within an Indian ship, and from the hiU 
A distant baying : yea, all was so still ; 
Somewhat they doubted, natheless forth they passed, 
And Ai^'s paipted sides they reached at last. 

On whom down-looting, scarce more noise they heard 
Than from the other ships, some nnittered word. 
Some creaking of the timbers, as the tide 
Kan gurgling seaward past her shielded side. 
Then Jason knelt, and whispered : " Wise be ye, 
fair companions on the pathless sea, 
But come, Br^nus, Nestor, and ye twain 
Of Laeedasmon, to behold my gain ; 
Take me amongst you, neither be afraid 
To take withal this gold, and this fun* maid. 
Yare ! — for the ebb runs strongly towards the sea, 
The east wind drives the rack to Thessaly, 



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138 TJIE LIFE AND DEATH 

And lightly do such kings as this one sleep 

If now and then small watch their servante keep." 

Then saw Medea men like shadows grey 
Kise from the darksome decks, who took straightway 
With murmured joy, from Jason's outnstretehed hands, 
The conquered fleece, the wonder of all lands, 
"While with strong arms he look the royal maid. 
And in their hold the precious burthen laid. 
And scarce her dainty feet could touch the deck, 
Ere down he leapt, and little now did reek 
That loudly clanged his armour therewithal. 

But, turning townward, did Medea call : — 
" nohle Jason, and ye heroes strong, 
To sea, to sea ! nor pray ye loiter long ; 
l''or surely shall ye see the beacons flare 
Ere in mid stream ye are, and running &ir 
On toward the sea with tide, and oar, and sail. 
My father wakes, nor hidos he to bewail 
His loss and me ; I see his turret gleam 
As he goes towards the beacon, and down stream 
Absyrtus lurks 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, aad the long oars dipped 
As from the quays the heroes pushed away. 
And in the loosened sail the wmd 'gan play ; 
But e'en as they unto the stroke leaned back, 
And Nauplius, catching at the main-sheet slack 
Had drawn it taut, out flared the beacon wide. 
Lighting the waves, and they heard folk who cried : 
" Awake, awake, awake, Colehian folk 1 " 
And all about the blare of horns outbroke, 
As watch-tower answered watch-tower down the slieam 
Where far below they saw the bale-fires gleam ; 
And galloping of horses now they heard. 
And dang of arms, and cries of men afcard, 



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For now the merchant mariners who lay 
About the town, thought surely an ill day 
Had dawned upon them while they slept at ease, 
And, half awake, pushed madly from the quays 
With crash of bi-eaking oavs 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. 

But Argo, leaping forward to the swing 
Of measured oars, and leaning to the breeze. 
Sped swiftly 'twist the dark and whispering trees ; 
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 toll 
Their fair adventure to the maids of Greece ; 
And as the mingled noises did decrease 
With added distance, and behind them night 
Grew wan with coming of the eastern light, 
Across the strings his fingers Orpheus drew, 
And through the woods his winged music flew : — 

" surely, now the fisherman 
Draws homeward through the water wau 
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 dmly toil and dreary head. 

" And 'midst them all, perchance, my love 
Is waking, and doth gently move 
And stretch her soft arms out to mo, 
Forgetting thousand leagues of sea ; 



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I40 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And now lier body I behold, 

Unhidden but by hair of gold, 

And now the silver water kiss. 

The crown of all delight and hliss. 

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, 

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-wrapt laurel crown, 

'Midst of the shouting, wondering town I " 

So sung he joyously, aor knew that they 
Must waniler yet for many an evil day 
Or ever the dread Gods should let them come 
Back to the white walls of their long-left home. 
But on the shouting heroes gazed adown 
The foundress of their triumph and renown, 
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, dreadfiil Gods, 
And now upon her father, and tlie odds 
He well might raise against the reckless crew, 
For all his mighty power well she knew ; 
And at that thought well might her heart grow cold. 
And well might me her wretched self behold, 
Led helpless through some old familiar place. 
With none to turn on her a pitymg face, 
Unto the death in life, she still might win ; 
And yet, if she should 'scape the meed of sin 
This once, the world was fair and bright enough, 



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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 happj hours. 

Now swift heneath the oar-s(rokes Argo fiew, 
While the sun rose behind them, and they drew 
Unto the river's mouth, nor failed to see 
Ahsyrtus' galley waiting watchfully 
Betwist them and the white-tflpped turbid bar. 
Therefore they gat them ready now for war. 
With joyful 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. 

Then to flie prow gat Jason, and the maid 
Must needs be with hira, though right sore afiraid, 
As nearing now the Colchian ship, they hung 
On balanced oars; but the wild Areas strung 
His deadly bow, and clonih into the ttip. 

Then Jason cried : " Absyrtus, will ye stop 
Our peaceful keel, or let us take the sea 'I 
Soothly, have we no will to fight with thee 
If we may pass unfoughten ; therefore say, 
What is it thou wilt have this dawn of day ? " 

Now on the other prow Absyrtus stood, 
His visage red with eager wrathful blood, 
And in his right hand shook a mighty spear. 
And said : " seaiarers, 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, ray heart thrills 
With wrath indeed ; and hearken for what cause, 
That ye gainst all friendship and good laws 
Bear off my sist«r with you ; wherefore now 
Mars give you courage and a brazen brow ! 



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143 THE LIFE AND DKATIl 

That ye may try this dangerous pass in ■vain, 
For sootlily, of your slaughter am I fain." 

Then Jason wratlifully threw up his head, 
But ore the shout came, fair Medea said. 
In trembling whisper thriUing throngh his ear : — 

" Haste, quiek upon them ! if before is fear. 
Behind is death 1 " Then Jason turning, saw 
A tall ship staggering with the gusty flaw, 
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 ery 
Back flew the balaneed oars full orderly. 
And toward the doomed ship mighty Argo passed ; 
Thereon Ahsyrtns shouted loud, and oast 
His spear at Jason, that before his feet 
Stnok iu the deck ; then out the arrows fleet 
Burst from the Colohians ; and searce did they spai'e 
Medea's trembling side and bosom fair ; 
But Jason, roanng as the lioness 
When ronnd her helpless whelpa the hunters press, 
Whirled round his head his niigbty brass-bound spear, 
That, flying, smote the Prince beneath the ear. 
As Areas' arrow sunk into his side. 
Then felling, suarce he met the rushing tide. 
Ere Argo's mighty prow had thrust apui't 
The huddled oars, and through the fair ship's heart 
Had thrust her iron beak, then the green wave 
Bushed in aa rush the waters through a cave 
That tunnels half a sea-girt loneiy 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 ; 
Then at the following ship threw back a shout, 
And seaward o'er the fcar drave Argo out. 

Then joyful felt all men as now at last 
From hUl to green bill of the sea they pa«Fed ; 



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But diiefly jnyed Medea, as now grew 
The Colcbiatt hills behind them faint and blue, 
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 brougtt 
Besides the tnaid, nor for his kingdom cared, 
As on her heanty with wet eyes he stared. 
And board her sweet voice soft as in a dream, 
When all seems gained, and tronble dead does seem, 
And on his face her red lips he could feel. 
And round her painting side his fingers steal. 

So passed this day, and she no less forgot 
That wreck upon the bar, the evil spot. 
Bed with a brother's blood, where lon» was stayed 
ITie wrathful king as from the stream he weighed 
The bleeding body of his well-loved son. 

Lo in such wise their journey was begun. 
And so began short love and long decay, 
Sorrow that bides and joy tliat fleets away. 



BOOK X. 

NIGHT came, but still on by the stars they sailed 
Before the wind, till at the da^vn it failed, 
And faded soon the sunrise pure away, 
Leaving the heavens colourless and grey, 
And dull and lightless the decreasing swell 
About the watery ways now rose and felt. 
And Lyncens, looking back, no more beheld 
The galley that so long the chase bad held. 
Then were all glad, and toiled on at the oar, 
When now the drooping ajjls would help no more. 



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144 '''!!}■' I-^^E AND DEATH 

But soon before their way it seemed as though 
A curtain hung they needs roust journey through, 
A low black mist so brooded o'er the sea. 
Then did they hold their hands, but presently. 
Moving to meet thein, did it hide from sight 
The dog-vane and the maintop gilded bright. 
Yea in hearirchilling 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 
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 band. 
Such mighty light blazed out upon the prow, 
That faint and yellow did the sunlight show 
Beside it, and amidst it they beheld 
The figure that ere now their hands had held 
Auigh the Mysian shore ; and now it said : — 

" heroes, wherefore haste ye to be dead 'I 
Behold, while through the heart of yonder fog 
I, Argo, drifted as an unsteered log, 
.^tes passed us going towards the stnuts. 
And now is lying ready by the gates ; 
Nor with one ship alone, but with t«n keels, 
Raised from his subject kings and commonweals, 
Abides your coming, hoping soon t* 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. 



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"But now the Grods. tating your swift return 
Away from you, jet 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. 
Along whose sides dwell the Sarmatian folk. 
Knowing no arts, untaught to bear the yoke 
Of equal laws ; into this river's ntouth 
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 through, 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 
Circe the wise, the wonder of all lands, 
Thy Mher's sister, lady, at whose hands 
Of late-wrought guilt shall ve 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 wealth and babbling praise, 
And so each man depart unto such lEiys 
As the fates grant him, be they good or ill. 
With death at last according to their will." 

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. 
Beats at his tars, beholdmg far away 
His windy eyrie up the mountain grey. 
— A while ago, and every man nigh saw 
The long white walls rise sunny without flaw 
From out the curled white edges of the sea ; 
Yea, almost felt as if they well might be 
In feir lolchos that same afternoon. 



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146 TBE LIFE ANB DEATH 

And now how many and many a glittering moon 
Must fill her horns up, while their lives were spent 
In unknown lands and helpless drearimont ! 

But as his fellows, speeehless and amazed, 
Upon the weary sea so stood and gazed, 
Spake Jason to them : " Heroes, tell me where 
Your hearts ai'O gone, rfnoe helpless thus ye stare 
On that which helpeth not? in no such wise 
A while ago, hefore .Sletes' eyes 
Ye smote the Colchian ship ; with other heart 
Ye drave the dark blue clashers far apait ; 
No eyes I saw like these upon the day, 
When with the Colchian spears on every way. 
Unto Mais' acre on a douhtful 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, 
AVhen yet our blood is warm, back to our home ? 
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 fein to save, 
Sits pleasureless and wearing ou h If 
Or with vain words wages disgra iiil st 
That leads nowhither, till forgott 1 h 
Seizes the babbler, choking out his b 1 

' ' But ye — forget all — get y h 
And steer rejoicing to the northe n 1 
Since we shall win such glory an 1 w 
That, coming home again to our f w 
Those left behind shall count us II f 1 1 
And tremble, gazing at our shea h d w 1 



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OF JASOy. 

Fair is the wind, the sunny dawn ia clear, 
Nor are we bound for Pluto's kingdom drear. 
But for fair forests, plentiful of beasts. 
Where, innocent of craft, with joyous feasts, 
The wise folk live as in the golden age, 
Not reddening spears and swords in useless rage ; 
Nor need they houses, hut 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." 

o spake he, knowing nought of that same land ; 

lieless, they noting him as he did staud 
Beside Erginus, with unclouded face. 
Took heart again, and to the oars apace 
They gat and toiled, forgetting half the word 
That from great Ai^'s sprite ere now thoj 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 fan 
Up to the royal hall wherefrom they came. 

But Jason in his heart thought : " Now, indeed. 
Of homo and fame full lit*Ie ia my need, 
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 false 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, 
That where she went she scarcely heeded yet, 



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14S THE LIFE AND DEATH 

For still she seemed to see the blaeli pile set 
For her undoing by the temple-gate ; 
And seemed to see the thronging people wait 
For her, who tbere to make tihe 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 ber care, 
So sweet was love, and life so blithe and fair. 

Now northward Argo steered for two days more. 
Until at last they oarne in sight of shore, 
And creeping on, tliey 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 thej, 
It being but early, auehored till mid-day. 
And as tbej waited, saw an eddy rise 
Where sea joined river, and before their eyes 
The battle of the waters did begin. 
So, seeing the mighty ocean best therein. 
Weighing their anchor, they made hasto to man 
Both oars and sails, and therewith plying, ran 
Wkh 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 
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. 



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Then o'er their hearts a melancholy fell, 
And they began to think they might forget 
The quest whereon their hearts had once been set. 
Now naif 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 Uvea 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 merchanUowa. 

So sadly passed the weary night away. 
That, dreary, yet was noisier than the day ; 
For all about them evil beasts 'gan stJr 
At nightfall, and great soft-winged hats to whirr 
About their raiment and their armour bright. 
And when the moon rose, and her crescent white 
Made the woods blacker, then fl-om_ either shore 
They heard the thundering of the Uon'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, stars and bold. 
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 femUiar 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 ade they drew not near. 
Nor yet of aught Hke man did they have sight. 
So dawned the day ; but like another night 
Unto their wearied eyes it seemed to be. 



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15° THE LIFE A!iD DEATH 

Amid that solitude, where tree joined tree 
For ever, as it seemed ; and natheless, they 
Ran out the oars and gat them on tlieir way 
Against the ebh, and little help the flood 
Gave tliem that day ; but yet for bad or good 
Tliey laboured on, tbongi still with less intent, 
More hopeless past the changeless woods they went. 

Hut every day, more and more sIuggisHy 
And shorter lime, the water from the sea 
Ean up, and failed ere eve of the third day. 
Though slower took the downward stream its way, 
Giflwn wide and duU, 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 onzos and decaying sedge 
There wallowed ugly, nameless, dull-scaled things. 

These now the weary eompany of kings. 
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, 
TJnto 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. 
With many another of his kith and kin, 
And swiftly getting to the water thin, 
Made for the ship ; and though npon the way 
Some few among tbeni lost the light of day, 
Smit by Thessalian aiTOws, yet the most 
The narrow strip of water fairly ero.«sed. 
And scaled the ship's slides, and thercwitli began 
A fearful battle betwixt worm and man. 



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Not long it dured ; though Ceneus through tlio mail 
Was bitten, and one monirt«r's iron tail 
Smote down Asterion, wliom Eribotes 
Made shift to save ; but chiefly amid these 
She who had been the first to raise the strife 
Was hard bested, and scarce escaped with life. 

One wonn 'twixt ship and shore her an'ow slew, 
But ere hev Amazonian axe she drew, 
Another monster had got slimy hold 
Of her slim ankles, and cast fold on fold 
About her legs, and binding thigh to thigh, 
Wrapt round her ^des, enfolding mightily 
Her foiled right hand, then raised aloft bis crest 
Against her unembraci&d tender breast : 
Bat she, with one unharmed hand yet !cR free. 
Still strove to ward the blow but giddily, 
Because the deadly rings still tighter grew 
About her heart ; yet as she fell, there flew 
A feathered javelin swiftlv from the left, 
By Areas desperately east, that eleft 
The monster'c head, and dulled his glittering eyes. 

Then the glad Minyse with joyous cries 
Cleared Argo's docks of all the monstrous things. 
As from the maiden's limbs the slimy rings 
Slacked iind fell off: but she, so saved from death. 
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. 

But swifter the next day the river ran 
With higher banks, and now the woods began 
To be of trees that in thair land they knew. 
And into clumps of closest beeches grew, 



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152 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And oak-trees thinly spread, and tbere-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. 
And while two great bucks raised the armed brow 
Each arainst each (ance time of fight was now), 
About Diem would the swine squeal, and the sheep 
In close^rawn flock their faint republic keep, 
■With none to watch r 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 in the Phasis green. 

So seeing now these beasts in such plenty, 
It seemed good unto the Miny» 
To make provision thereof for their need. 
So 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-seeing Lynceus, and the Sminthiai's son, 
Keen Theseus, with Pirithous his mate, 
Ciitius, whose swift shaft smote as sure as fate, 
jSItalides, the runner of the plain, 
Phocus, whose sling was seldom whirled in vain, 
Cseneus the cragsman, Periclimenes, 
And Apheus, haunter of the close-set frees. 

So forth these set, and none of them had lack 
Of spear or bow, or quiver at the hack. 
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 unciiipped acorn, and the long leaves brown. 
For on that land the sad mid-autumn lay. 
And earlier came the sunset day by day. 



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But now unto their hunting gave they heetl, 
And of the more part happy was the speed, 
And soon t* Argo did they turn again. 
Laden with that they had set foith to gain. 
Of deer and heasts the shiughtered eorcasseii 
Upborne on interwoven boughs of treeu. 

With whom came Theseus not, nor Areas tame, 
Nor yot ^talides (who had the fame 
Next Atalanta among all the rest 
For swiftness, she being easily the best). 
There waiting till the night, yet none the more 
Came down Siose three unt* the river's shore, 
Nor through the night : but swift ^talides 
At dawn they saw come running through the trees, 
With Areas for behind, and Theseus slim 
The last of all, but straining eveiy limb 
To he their equal : empty-handed they 
Oame back to Argo on that dawn of day. 
And on being asked, a short tale had to tell. 

Unto their part to chose a great buck felt. 
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 tight. 

So being thus trapped they fein had spoke them feir. 
But knowing not their tongue, they yet had caro 
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 ; 



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154 THE LIFE AND DEArU 

At last of their departure were they fain, 
But, being st,ijed, tliey duist not strive in vain 
For fear of worse ; Lut now, the night being come, 
The wild folk seemed to tliinlc that place their home 
Just as another, and there gat to sleep, 
Nor yet upon the Gweks a watch did keep 
To stop their going; " So," said Areas, " we, 
An hour after midnight, warily 
Stole irom among them, neither gave they chase. 
Being still asleep, like beasts, in that same place ; 
^nd for their senihlance, neither were they clad. 
Nor in their hands a spear or sword they ]md, 
Or any brass or iron, but long slings. 
And scrips of stones, and ugly stone-sot things 
Most like to knives, and clubs of heavy wood ; 
Softrvoiced they were, and gentle of their mitod, 
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 cliildren scattered there among. 
All naked, and with unshorn yellow hair 
Blowing about ; and sooth we deem they were 
Houseless and lawless, without town or king. 
Knowing no Gods, and lacking everything." 

So said he, but Medea spoke, and said : — 
" heroes, surely by all IJkelihead 
llie-ie are the folk of whom I erst heard tell 
In Ma, where to mo it oft befell 
To apeak with many men from many lands. 
Long ere ye crossed the Phasis' yellow sands. 

" Of these I learned more tongues of speaking mei 
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. 
The Sun, the Moon, the mother of the earth, 
And more perchance, and days they htve of mirth 



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When these they honour ; yea, and unto these 
Within their temples, groves of ancient trees. 
Clad hut in leaves, and crowned Irj solemn wise, 
They offer strangers up in sacrifice, 
Which was your doom had not the Gods heen kind, 
Who for your bodies other gi'avea will find." 

But when they heard her, glad they were indeed 
That they from such a hondage had been freed. 
But, day being fully come, they loosed from shore, 
And 'gainst the stream all hent 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 i^carped clifl^ here and there, 
Where screamed the great ger-falcon as they passed. 
And whence the sooty swit^s about the mast 
Went sweeping, mth shrill cries at that new sight. 

Nought happed that day worth record, but at night, 
When they were moored, and sound of splashing oars 
Had ceased, and stiller grew 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 p:iss to war, 
Rising and falling as the wind from fiir 
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 inwai'd fear had stirred, 
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 wall?, 
Which, being passed, both calm and deep will be 
The pent-up stream, and Argo easily 
Will stem it ; hut or ere we come tliereto. 



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15(3 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Needs must we heave her up and make her go 
Over the liard earth, till the falls ai-e past. 
Eat therefore dow, and sleep, that ye may last 
Through this and other toils, and so may come 
Throngh many labours, back unto your home." 
80, landing, many a pine-torch did they light, 
And made the dusky evening strange and bnglit. 
And there a miglity 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 now-pierced skin. 
Then in that lonely land did they begin 
Their feast, and first the flesh to Jason gave, 
And nest to her who all their souls did save. 
Far up the Phasis on that other day. 
And then unto the swifl 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-wind's sons, the cleavers of the blue ; 
And all the kings being satisfied in tuni. 
With vain dearea 'gan their heaita to bum, 
So stirred within them wine and chan^ng speech. 

But unto him his harp did Orpheus reach, 
And sniot* the sdings, and through the ancient trees 
Rang the heart-piercing honeyed melodies : — 

" Alas ! for Satui-n's days of gold, 
Before the mountain men were bold 
To dig up iron from the earth 
Wherewith to slaughter health and mirth, 
And bury hope far underground. 



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When all men needed did abound 
In every land ; nor must tbey 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 stiife, 
No element against his Ufe 
Was sworn and titter ; on the sea. 
Dry-shod, eonld all walk easily ; 
No fire there was but what made day, 
Or hidden in the mountains 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 de 
Nor was the Butumn-tide more sad 
Than very spring; and all unclad 
Folk went u|K>n the harmless snow. 
For not yet did midwinter know 
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 hlaze. 
Unshaded hy the rosy bowers, 
TJnscorched beside the tulip flowers, 
The snow-white naked girl might stand ; 
Or fearless thrust her tender hand 
Amidst the thoraless rose-bushes. 

" Then, 'mid the twilight of the trees 
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 rung 
Through those greeu glades, or made afraid 
The timid dwellers in the shade. 
No lust of strength nor fear of death 



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8 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Had driven men, with shortened hreath, 
The stag's wide-open eyes to watch ; 
No shafts \fi slaj, no nets to catch. 
Were yet ; unyoked the neat might play 
On untilled meads, and mountams grey, 
Unshorn, the silly sheep might luve. 

" Nor knew that world consuming love, 
Mother of bate, or envy cold. 
Or rage for feme, or thirst for gold, 
Or longing for the ways untried. 
That, ravening and unsatisfied, 

■ ■ i lives of men to Hell. 



" Alas ! what profit now to tell 
Tlie bng unweary lives of men 
Of past days — threescore years and ten, 
Unbent, unwrinkled, beautiful, 
Eegarding not death's flowernsrowned skull. 
Bat mth some damsel intertwined 
In such love as leaves hope behind. 

" Alas, the ranished days of Ijliss ! 
Will no God send some dream of this, 
That we may know what it has beenV 

" Oh, thou, the chanleted with green. 
Thou purpled-stained, hut not with blood, 
"Who on the edge of some cool wood 
Forgetest the grim Indian plain. 
And all the strife and all the pain. 
While in ihy 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 thoughla, that press 
About our hour of happiness. 

"Lyseus, King! by thee alone 
To song may change our tuneless moan. 



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of the liitter si 
talcs be ciianged by thee, 
ouldering 
lO desire 
Sweet, amorous, half satisfied ; 
ThroQgli thee the doubtful years uutried 
Seem fair to us and fortunate, 
In spite of death, in spite of fate." 

He ceased, and bent his bead above the wine ; 
Then, as he raised bis eyes, they saw them shine 
Id 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 they miss that doubtfiil 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 
Grow louder as the dead night stiller grew, 
And fuller of all fear, till daylight drew 
A feint wan streak between the thinner trees, 
And in their yellowing foliage the breeze 
Made a new sound, that through their waking droam 
Like to the surging sea well-nigh did seem. 

But the full day being come, all men awake. 
Fresh hold upoa the oars began to take. 
Stemming the stream, that now at every mile 
Swifter and shallower ran, and in a while 
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. 



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l6o THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And looking on ahead, the stream could see 

White with the rapida ; therefore warily 

Some mile or tvfo they went at a slow pace, 

And stayed their course where they beheld a place 

Softf«loping 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 eome anear. 
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 .^talides to see 
What further up the river there might be. 
Who going twenty leagues, another fall 
Foun^ with great cliffs on each side, like a wall ; 
But, 'twist 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 heavily 
Argo they launched again, and gat them forth 
Still on toward the winter and the north. 



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EOOK XL 

NOW might the Minyse hoist up to the breeze 
Tbeir well-wrought sail, for barren of all trees 
The baDka were now become, not rising high 
Above the deep green stream that sluggishly 
Strove with the strenuous Ai^'s cleaving stem. 

So after aJl their toil was rest to them 
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, 
Or the wild cattle scouring here and there 
About the plain ; for in a plain they were. 
Edged round with hills, with quaggy brooks cleft througl; 
That 'mid their sedges toward the river drew, 
And harboured noisome things, and death to man. 
Bat looking up stream, the green river ran 
Unto their eyes, irom out the mountains high. 
For 'twist no pass could they behold the sky, 
Thoagh at the mountain's foot, far through the plain. 
They saw the wandering rirar shine again. 
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 thera aught upon that tide 
To heave the swift ship out on either side. 
For all that plain the mountain ridge bestrode. 



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l62 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And scarcely could a horseman find a road 
Tbrongh any pass into tbe farther land. 

Then 'mid the downcast men did JasoD stand, 
And lifting wp his voice, said : " Minj'se, 
Why right and left, upon this plain look ye. 
Where dwell but beasts or beastrlike 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 runs forth, 
Let us go thither, beaiing in our hands 
This golden, bard-won marvel of all lands. 
Yet, since not death it bears, hut living things, 
Shall we not reach thereby the sea that rings 
The whole world round, and so make shift to reach 
Sunny Eubtea, and fair Argo heach 
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 
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 oar glory gone, 
Our names but left upon some carven stone 
In Greece, still gi'owing feinter day by day. 
And this work wrought within the sunny hay, 
Nor yet without tie help of Gods, shall lie 
A wonder to the wild heasta passing by, 
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, 



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And thrusting oat with poles, made shift to go 
Agdnst the stream, that with a hollow sound 
Smote Argo's stem. Then Jason, looking round, 
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 waters flow, 
And drive us back again into the sun, 
Cursing the day this quest was first began, 
Or somewhat traps us here, aa well it may. 
And ends us all, fav from the light of day." 

Therewith he hade them light the torches up, 
And to the mountain Gfods to pour a cup. 
And one unto the river Gods, and pray 
That they might come into the Ught of day. 
When tliey had pierced the mountsdn through and thro 
So fmm the torches trains of sparkles flew. 
And strangely flashed their arms in that dark place, 
And white and haggard showed each anxious feoe 
Against those dripping walls of unknown stone. 

But now in Jason's hand the cup outshone. 
Full of red wine, pressed by the weeian sea. 
And lifdng liigh his hand, he cried : " O ye, 
Both Clods and nymphs who in this wild land dwell. 
In hill or liver, henceforth may ye tell 
How through your midst have passed the Minyte ; 
And if, ye helping, the cold northern sea 
^Ve 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 ade of this 
Grim cavern, doe observance shall ye miss. 
For whatso on the teeming plain we snare, 
Slain with due ritss shall smoke before you there." 

So spake he, and twice poured the tragrant wine ; 



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1 64 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

But they, well-pleased to have the gift divine, 
And noting well his promises, took heed 
Unto iiis prayers, and gave the heroes speed. 
Then Jason siraightway bade more tflrcnes light. 
And Argo pushed along, flared through the night 
Of the dant cavern, and the dull place rang 
With Grecian names, as loud the heroes sang, 
For hope had come into their hearts at last. 

So through the winding cave three days they passed 
But on the fourth day Lynceua gave a cry, 
Smiting his palms together, who could spy. 
Far off, a little white speck through the dark. 
As when the 'lated Iraveller sees the spark 
Of some Mr-lighted homestead glitter Iright. 
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 
As though she longed for daylight 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. 
And see the fmr 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 thetarheads they twined 
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 foith, and not in vain ; 
For Atalanta, swifter than a man. 
Areas, and mighty Theseu^ overran 
A white high-crested bull, and tough cords threw 



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About his horns, and so by main force drew 
The great beast to the altars, where the knife 
Of wise Asclepius ended his iiot lite. 
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 sti'eam was narrowing apace, 
And little more than just enough of space 
Was left the oars ; but deep it ran and slow, 
And through a like flat grassy plain did go 
As that which ere its bun'owing it had cleft ; 
But lower were the bills, and on the lefi 
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. 
Watching the long wave from their swift sea-plough 
Sweep up the low green hank, for soothly now, 
A pebble, ill-thrown hy a stripling's hand 
From Argo's deck, had lighttil on the land ; 
And yet far inland still they seemed to he. 
Nor noted aught to tell them of the sea. 

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 
That one said to him : " Where is now become 
The cunning that thou leamedst in thine home, 
wise artificer ? What dost thou here. 
While in thy fellows' hearts is gathering fear ? 



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l66 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Now from the north thou seest this river flow, 
Why doiibtest thou to find another go 
Into the cold green icy northern sea? 
Lo ! if thou wiliest well to trust in nie, 
About the noontide of this very day, 
At the wood's end I bid thee Argo stay, 
And from her straightway let the Minyse 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 certainly some God shall show it thee. 
And if thou wishest now to ask of ine. 
No dream I am, but lovely and divine, 
Wbei'eof let this be unto thee a sign, 
That when thou wak'st the many-eoloui-ed 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 ma,ny-coloured bow. 
And trembling knew that the high Gods indeed 
Had sent tbe Messenger unto their need. 
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 : " Jason, chief and lord, 
And ye, fair fellows, to no bitter end 
Our quest is come ; but this sharp keel shall send 
A glittering furrow up in the wide sea. 
If ye will hear my words and trust in me." 

Therewith ho told them of that dream divine, 



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OF JASON. 167 

And of tlie manynwloured arched sign, 

And gladdeoed all their lieai'ts, for well they knew 

That some Uod helped them, and straightway thf^y threw 

Hawsers ashore, wherewith their keel to tow, 

And swiftly through the water made her gi), 

Until they reached the ending of the wood, 

Just at the noonday, and there thought it good 

To rest fill morning : but at dawn of day 

Gat forth, and mighty blows began to lay 

On many a tree, mating the tall trunks reel, 

That ne'er before had felt the woodman's stee!. 

So many days they laboured, cutting down 
The smooth gi-ey beeches, and the pine-trees hrown, 
And cleft them into planks and beams foursquare. 
And so, with Argus guiding all things there, 
A stage with hroad 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 lie. 
And all things waited for the setting foi^th 
Unto some liver flowing toward the north. 

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 feint yellow leases, and thin and light 
The forest grew, and colder night by night. 
Or soaked with rain, and swept with bitter wind. 
Or with white creeping mist made deaf and blind. 

Meanwhile for long there came no sign at all. 
Nor yet did sight of man to them beiall, 
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. 
And guard their bodies from the coming cold ; 



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l68 THE LIFE AND DKATII 

Yiit never any man did they beholcl, 
Though underneath the shaft and huo ting-spear 
Fell many a stag, and shuffling crafty hear, 
And strange the Minvfe showed in shaggy spoil. 

But now, at ending of their woodwright's toil, 
It chanced Argus' self alone to go, 
One hitter 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 day. 
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. 
As &11b a landslip by the raining 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, huntsman, t« thine hardihead, 
Well met thou ait 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 ; 
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 mell-feathered shafts good store, 
And in her belt a two-edged cutting sword. 
Then sti'aigbtly answered Argus toner word : — 
" Lady, not far hence ai-e my fellows stayed. 
Bat on hard earth this night will they be laid. 
And eat the flesh of beasts their hands have slain. 



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For from the sea we ooino, to meet again 
The ocean that the round world rings about, 
Stiil wandering od, in trouble and in doubt." 

" Nay," said she, " let us set on through tlie wood, 
For food and fire alone to me are good, 
And guarded sleep among such folli as thco. 
For beiog alone, I fear the enemy. 
The savage men our bands are wont to chase 
Through these mid woods, from tangled place to place.' 

Then Argus swiftly flayed off the bear's hide. 
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 feint light round, but no word Argus said, 
Because he deemed she was a thing divine, 
And in his heart still thought upon the sign. 

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 witli the siglit his dazzled eyes did swim, 
So was she changed, for from her raiment light 
Her ro^ limbs showed 'gainst the wintry white, 
Not shrinking from the snow ; her arms were bare, 
Her head unarmed set round with yellow hair. 
And starred with unnamed dainty glunraering things ; 
From her two shoulders many-coloured winfs 
Eose up, and fannin* 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 : — 



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170 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

" Argus, be glad, and lifting up thine heatl, 
Look through these few last tvees upon the plain, 
Smooth and unseamed, though never crossed by wair 
And thank the Gods that led you here at last. 
For in no long time shall the leagues be passed 
'Twixt you and a swift river running north. 
But now nest mom at daybreak get ye forth, 
And labour ail ye may, for see the sky 
How clear it is — tho 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 tho snow, 
And all the plain, so smooth and even now, 
ShaU 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 
Mis with the dark sky ; make ye for that pass. 
While yet endures the east wind and the frost, 
And in your journey shall ten da^s be lost, 
If that ye labour hard : but coming there. 
Shall ye behold u clear green river fair. 
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 shaU swul tho drifting snow, 
And your astonished eyes shall soon behold 
Firm earth and river one with binding cold, 
And in raid-winter then shall ye be shot ; 
But ere that haps shall ye build many an hut, 
And dwell there as ye may, until the spring 
Unchains the streams, and quickens everything. 



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Then get je down the river to the sea. 

Nor doubt thou aught since thou behold est me, 

For I indeed am Iris; but farewell, 

For of my finished messa™ must I tell 

To her that sent me to this dreary plaee." 

So spake she, and straightway before his face 
She spread her fair winga wide, and from the earth 
Rose upwards toward the plaee that gave her birth, 
Still growing faint aud fainter 'neath the moon, 
Till from his wondering eyes she vanished soon. 
But she being gone, he gat him straight away 
Unto his fellows, bidding tbem 'gmnst day 
Be ready (o set forth, and fold his tale. 
And they, not fearing that his word should fail, 
Gat them to sleep, and ere the late dawn oame. 
By the feint starlight and the fliekering flame 
Of their own watrfi-fites 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 with 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, 
That therewith ringing, gladdened every heart. 
So till the evening did each man his part, 
When all the night they slept, and at daybreak 
The twisted cables in strong hands did take 
And laboured on, not earning warriors' meed, 
Bnt like some earl's unkempt and rugged steed, 
That to the town drags his eom-laden wain. 

But neither was tho heavenly word in vain, 
For as the yew-clad hill they drew anear 



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172 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

The grey-eyed keen Messeiiian could see clear, 
Prom the bare top of a great ashen-tree, 
The river ninaing to the northern sea, 
Showing all dull and heavy 'gainst the snow ; 
Aod when the joyftil 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 wide, 
And half-forgotten friends stand by his side. 

So on the tenth day through the pass they drew 
Their strange ship-laden wain, and came unto 
A deep dark river, their long promised road ; 
Then from the car they slip^ 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, foursi^uare, and thereon laid 
A white wild bull, and barley eakes, 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. 
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 bum 
To show his deeds to other men than these. 
Nor did he quite forget the palaces 
Of golden ^a, long left, as a dream. 
Or ^son'a beauteous house, whose oaken beam 
Cleft the dark wintry river, as they went 
With longing eyes and hearts still northward bent ; 
And f^n he was to see his dainty bride. 
That wrapt in muffling fui-a sat by bis 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, 



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And as the GodUcss bado them, there they beaelicd 
Their searheat ship, on wliich from side to side 
They built a roof against the snowy tide, 
And round aljout her huts wherein to dwell, 
When on their heads the full mid-winter fell, 
And roand 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 u'on ground the wind did blow. 
And in the cold, dark stream, from either bank 
The ice stretohed forth ; at laat, ere the sun sank. 
One bitter day, low grew the clouds and dun 
A little northward of the setting gun, 
Wherefrom, at nightfall, sprung a furious blast, 
That, ere the middle of the night was past, 
Brought up the snow from some untrodden land, 
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 whitfl, 
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 darta to throw 
At bird or beast, though, as the wild-fowl passed 
South o'er thoir camp, yet flew they not so last 
As Areas' arrows, and the elk at l)ay 
Deep in the forest, seldom found a way 
To soape from Jason's mighty well-st«eled 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, 



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174 ^''■t'' ^^"'^ ^'^" DEATH 

Forgetting not their fathers, or the time 
When all the world still dwelt in equal cliiu* 
Eut each to each amid the wine-cups told 
Unwritten, half-forgotlen talcs of old. 



BOOK XII. 



MOST pitiless and stark the winter grew 
Meanwhile, beneath a sky of cloudless blue. 
And Bun that warmed not, till they nigh forgot 
The green lush spring, the summer rich and hot, 
The autumn fragrant witli slow-ripening fruit ; 
Till each grew listless, dull te the heart's root ; 
For day passed day, and jet no change they 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 
Before the sun^t, and no change at all 
In the drear alence of the dead nightfall. 

Ten weeks they bode there, lon^ng 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 
By fleecy clouds, and the nest dawn of day 
Broke o'er the Minyse colourless and grey, 
With gusts of fitiul wind 'twixt south and east. 
That with the day gi-ew steadier and increased. 
Until a south-west gale blew o'er the snow. 
And northward drove the steel-blue clouds and low. 



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And on that night the pattering of tlia rain 
Eoused tliem from sleep, a,nd next they saw the plain 
Made grey and ugly with quick-coming thaw, 
And all the sky beset with fowl they saw, 
Who sniffed the wind and hastened from the sea 
Unto the floods now coming certainly. 

For from their camp the Miny» beheld 
How the swift river from the high ground swelled, 
And still tormented by the wind and rain, 
Burst from the iee and covered all the pMn 
With breadth of turbid waters, while around 
Their high-raised camp again they saw the ground 
Freed from the swathmg snow ; nor was it long 
Ere in the woods the birds began their song, 
For March was come and life to everything, 
Nor did the buds fear much the douhtfiil 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 bo, 
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 ; 
And there they launched her, being now most fain 
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 ; 
For now the asheu oars could they thrust forth 
Into the widened stream, that toward the north 



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176 THE LIFE A^YD DEATlf 

Kan swiftly, and thenceforward day by day 
Toiling, tbey made full many a league of way. 
Nor did they see great JiiUs on either liand, 
When they had fairly jiassed the woody land 
Where they abode the winter ; neither heard 
Tlie sound of Ms to aake their hearts afcard, 
But through groat woods the gentle river ran, 
And plains where fed the herds unowned of man ; 
ITiongh sometimes in the night-time did they heaj- 
Men's voices calling out, far-off and near. 
But in some tongue not one among them know. 
No, not the Queen : but Lyneeus, passing through 
The woods, with Idas, following up a hear, 
A sudden clamour of men's tongues did hear. 



And in a cleared s 



e upon a 



Of naked men and women, fair and strong. 

About a iive, just at point to eat. 

But at the flash of arms they to their feet 

Eose suddenly, and swiftly gat away, 

Nor durst the twain give chase to them that day. 

But coming to that fire, laid theu- hands 

On a brass cauldron, and three woollen bands, 

That seemed like hoits or fillets for their heads. 

Set thick with silver knots and amher beads. 

Now round the brazen cauldron, graven well, 

Were uncouth letters, that some tale might tell. 

If any tbera could read ; so when the fleece 

Was offered up unto the Gods of Greece, 

This thing in fair Messene Idas hung 

In the fair fane where deeds of war are sunf . 

So through all this the wearied Minyfe 
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 marahy plain 



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Moat cold and bitter, but to them as sweet 
As the rose-scented zepbjr those do meet 
Who near the happy islands of the blest ; 
For as upon their eager brows it preased, 
They sniffed withal the odour of the sea, 
And going on a mUe, tbey 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 tlie bitter sea. 

So fell the night, and next day joyously 
They met the full flood, whose first toppling wave 
Against the sturdy prow of Argo drave. 
And mtb good heart, as 'midst the sweeping oars 
It tosaed and foamed, and swept the raaddy shores, 
Tbey 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. 
Then soro they longed for dawn, and when it broke 
Again the waters foamed beneath their stroke, 
[fill they had gained ihat river's utmost reaeh, 
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 Minyse thought it good to bide 
And wait the ebb, dreading some hidden bank ; 
And while they waited to good hap they drank. 
And poured out wine unto the deity 
Who dwelt between the river and the sea, 
Forgetting not the great Earth-shaking One, 



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178 THE LIKE AND DEATH 

Nor Her liy whose help thus far thoy bad ran 

Their happy course unto that liver's mouth. 

And now the wind had changed, and from the south 

Blew soflly, and the hot sun, shining forth. 

Made lovely land of that once hitter north, 

And fiUed their hearts with longing thoughts of love. 

And worship of the sea-horn seed of Jove. 

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 Minysc, 
And, shouting, drave out Argo to the sea. 

But when the first green ridge swept up her b»w. 
Then Jason cried : " And who shall stop us now 't 
And who shall drive us unto other end 
Than that we will ? Let whoso be our friend. 
Whoso our foe, henceforth, until the earth 
Forgets of changeftil men the death and birth, 
We shall not be forgotten anywhere, 
But our deeds told shall free sa<l folk from care." 

So spake he. and bis love beholding him. 
Trembled for joy and love in every limb. 
And inwardly she saw an ivory throne. 
And Jason dtting with her there alone. 
High o'er wise men and warriors worshipping. 
For they were young, nor yet had felt the sting 
Of poisonous fear, nor thought of coming age 
And bitter death, the turning of the paga 
By those who quite forget what they nave read, 
Taking no heed of living folk or dead. 

Now hoisting sail, and labouring with the oar. 
They passed along the amber-hearing shore, 
A low coast, hacked by pine^woods : none the less 
Some days they needs must pass in idleness. 



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And lio-tfl, 'miJst white rolling mist and blintl, 
Lest Argo on some shallow death should find ; 
Yet holpen bj 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. 



Thej 

Who stood to 
The rushing t 
And thence, 
The heroes 



in-clad folk awaiting them, 
watch the well-built Argo stem 
ide upon the shingly beach, 
IS knowing that thej could not reach 
Jth their arrows, shook their spears. 



And shouted unknown threats to careless e: 

But when against the midst of them they came, 
T?orth strode a liuge man, with red hair like flame. 
And his huge bow against them strongly drew, 
Wherefrom a swift shaft strmght to Argo flew. 
And whistling over Jason's head, stuck fast 
Over the barb-points in the gleaming mast. 
Then all men paised 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 : 
Natbeless, unmoved they saw the archer stand, 
And toward the Arcadian arrow stretch his hand. 
That midmost of his skin-clad body smote, 
But bounded baek as from an iron coat. 
Then loud his people shouted, and all drew 
Their feeble bows, but short their ai'rows flew, 
And through the straits the wandering Minyae 
Passed out unscathed into the open sea, 
While still of wizardry and charms they spoke. 

But Jason from the mast the arrow broke. 
That erewhilo 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 : 



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l8o THE LIFE AND DEATH 

" Fair love, now praise some God thou art not Jead, 
For from tlie Cirabrian folk this arrow came, 
And its sharp harba within a wizard's flame 
Were forged with peril, and the shaft of it 
Was carved by one who in great fear did sit 
Within the haunted places of the wood, 
And tears are on its feathers, and red blood : 
N^or ask me now the name of her who taught 
This wisdom to me : but two arrows brought 
From this same folk to ^a have I seen. 
By one whose wounds will evermore be green 
While on the earth he dwells." So '^ke the maid, 
But Jason, wondering at the words ihe said 
Gazed on her fair fiice, smiling lovmglj 
Nor cared to think that lie must one d ly die 

Now rose a south-east gale, and \.igo lost 
All sight of land, and the vexed Mmya, t st 
From soa to sea, began to feel a fe ir 
They yet might pass into some ocean drear 
Beyond Ehe circling sea that rings the world 
And down some bottomless abyss be hurlp 1 
To fall for ever : then the winged twain 
That erst had been the loathly harpie'i bane 
Came forth, and on the prow with wings spieid wide, 
Half stood, half floated, while aloud they cned — 

" What dost thou, Father? art thou sleeping then, 
And does it not suffice that trading men 
Float up and down, dead corpses on the sea 
"While all their wealth is lying wretchedly 
On Nerens' pavement ; but must we too drive 
Before this south wind, hopeless though alive. 
Until the farthest gulfs shall suck us down. 
And land our battered keel at Pluto's town 1 " 

So spake tbey ; but still blew the south the same 
Until the starless night upon them came. 



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But then a little M its fury lull. 

And when the rain-beat niglit was at its full, 

Fell to a light breeze, though still many a sea 

Swept Argo's deok, and stiU the Minjse 

Had dread of some returning hideous blast. 

But when the doubtful night from them had past, 

Eai'efijot upon the prow Medea stood, 

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, 

Nor with tinn-plauted 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 : " Miny^, 

Fear not to die within the northern sea. 

For on mj head hither 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 

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 
The firm-set earth, and She who draws the sea 
This way and that, the while in majesty 
She ^ts, 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 pbee. 



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102 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

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 baie, 
Went wandering, be-mocked of unconth things ; 
Then stood before the judgmentrseat of kings, 
Knowing no crime that she was charged withal, 
Until at last deep sleep on her did fdl 
Like death itself, wherein the troublous past 
And fearsome fiiture in one tomb are cast. 

Meanwhile the Minyse, joyfiil at her tale, 
Ean 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. 
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 eountty 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 
As the first land they coasted, that changed oft 
From those high eli& to meadows green and soft. 
And then to other cUffe, 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, elad in gold, was Pelias living yet. 

But to the Gods now did they sacrifice 
As seafarers may do, and things of price 
Gave to the tumbling billows of the sea. 



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OF JASOlf. 

That for their livea stOl cried out hungrily, 
And though for many days they saw no shore, 
Vet fainted not their hearts as heretofore, 
For as along the pathless plain they went. 
The white-foot messenger the Goddess sent. 
Who, uDEeen, whispered in the helmsman's ear, 
And tangbt him how the goodly ship to steer ; 
And on a time it chanced as the day broke, 
And to their Ufe the longing Minyse woke. 
Across the risen sun the west wind blew 
A thin light rain, that He, just shining through. 
Showed to them all the manj-coioured sign ; 
Then to the Goddess did they poor out wine, 
Eight glad at heart ; but she the live-long day 
By Argo's prow flew o'er the shifting way 
Unseen of all, and turned them still to land ; 
An<l as they went the Thracian'a cunning hand 
Stole o'er the harp-strings till Arion's steeds 
Gat them irom 'tmst the tangled water-weeds, 
And lifted listening heads above the sea. 
And sea-hirds, penave 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 di 
To-morrow, let to-day pass by 
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, 



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1 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Nor in our hearts liave thought of mirth. 
And while the world lasts, scarce again 
Shall any sons of men bear pain 
Lilte we have borae, jet be alive. 

" So surely not in Yain we strive 
Like other men for our reward ; 
Sweet peace and deep, the checkered sward 
Beneath the ancient mulberry-trees, 
The smooth-paved ^ded palaces. 
Where the shy thin-elad damsels sweet 
Make music with then- gold-ringed feet ; 
The fountain court amidst of it. 
Where the sbortrbaired slave maidens sit, 
While on the veined pavement lie 
The honeyed things and spioery 
Their arms have borne from out the town. 

" The dancers on the thyiny down 
In summer twilight, when the earth 
la 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, 
Wliere over many a chan^ng face 
The pigenns 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, some with praise, 
Then would the people throng the ways. 
Nor heed the outland merchandise. 
Nor any talk, fmrn fools or wise, 
Bat tales of our accomplished quest. 



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OF JASO^'. 

" What soul within the house shall rest 
Whea we come home? The wily king 
Shall leave his throne to see the thing ; 
No man shall keen the landward gate, 
The hurried traveller shall wait 
Until our balwarks graze the quay, 
UnsSain the milk-white bull shall be 
Beside the quivering altar-flame ; 
Scarce shall the maiden clasp for shame 
Over her breast the raiment thin 
The mom that Argo eometh in. 

" Then eometh 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, 
Unthought of is it, and unseen 
When sweet is, that hath bitter been." 

So sung the Thracian, and the rowing-folk 
Sent Argo quivering with the well-timed stroke 
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, 
For moon and stars shone brightly overhead, 
Nor through the night did Iris fail to lead 
The wavfr-tossed Argo o'er the glittermg sea. 

So as the moon set, did there seem to he. 
Upon their larboard, banks of high-piled cloud. 
Which from their sight the last dark hour did shroiKl. 
Then came the twilight, and those watchers fain 
Against the eastern light beheld again 



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l86 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

The clouds unchanged ; and as tbe dayliglit grew, 
LjDceus cried out : " Some land we draw unto 1 
Look forth, ErgiEus, on these mountains grcy,^ 
If thou, perchance, hast seen them ere to-day." 

Therewith all turned ahout, and some men ran 
To hear what words the God-begotten man 
Would say, who answered : " Lyuoeus, and all je, 
The man we left erewhUe across the sea . 
Might tell us this, the godlike Hercules ; 
Vet I myself think that the landless seas 
No more shall vex oa now, but that we come 
Unto the gates that look into our home ; 
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 brealt these mighty hillowa, 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, 
TiU as the sun rose were they near the strait, 
At whose mouth hut a little did they wait 
Till they had eaten, pouring honeyed wine 
Unto the Gods, then bidingno new sign. 
They cried aloud, and running out the oars. 
They swept great Argo midmost 'twixt the shores 
Of either lanl ind as her gilded prow 
Cleft ^e new water" clean forgotten now 
Grew aU the witteful washing of the main, 
And clean forgotten the dull hopeless pain. 
In the groit swirling river left so long. 
And m all heirts the memory was strong 
Of the bright tVreeian headlands and the bay 
They Jeft astein upon a glorious day. 



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BOOi£ XIII. 

BUT as along the ?!iore they sailed nest day, 
Full many a headland on their lucky way 
Er^nus knew, but said no towns there were 
Within tliat land, hut that from year to year 
Well-Digh nntilled the earth her produce gave. 
And many a herd the houseless people drave. 
And Tiang neither roof nor sheltering wall, 
Dwelt but in tents, and had no want at all. 

With that hf. bade them trim the bellying sail. 
For from the land now blew a gentle gale, 
Sfaoe-laden, warm, th^ made their full hearts yearn 
For unseen things, but soon they left astern 
That fruitful place, the lion-haunted laud. 
Nor saw but tumbling seas on either hand. 

Three days they sailed, and passed on the third daj 
A roek-bonnd coast upon theu- left that lay, 
But on the morrow eve made land again, 
Stretehed right ahead across the watery plain. 
Whereto ere nightfall did they draw anear, 
And so lay-to till dawn with little fear; 
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 Uke cries of men afeard. 
And blai-e of horns, and elank of heavy chains, 
And noise of bells, such as in moonlit lanes 
Rings from the grey team on the marke^night. 

And with these noises did they see a light. 
That seemed to light soma crown of palaces, 
Shining from out a grove of thickset trees. 
Then did the Sfinyse doubt if they were come 
Unto some great king's well-adornM home. 



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l88 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

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 jeUow strand, 
Well-set with fair frmtrbearing trees, and groves 
Of thick-leaved elms, all populous of doves. 
And watered by a wandering clear green stream ; 
And through the trees they saw a palace gleam 
Of polished marhle, ffdr heyond man's thought. 

There as they lay, the sweetest scents were brought 
By aghing winds across the hitter sea, 
And languid mode breathed melodiously. 
Steeping their souls in such unmixed delight. 
Their hearts were melted, and all dim of sight 
They grew, and scarce their hands eould grip the oar, 
And as they slowly neared the happy shore, 
The young men well-nigh wept, and e'en the wise 
Thought they had reached the gate of Paradise. 

But 'midst them stood Medea, and thoughtfully 
Gazed landward o'er the ripple of the «ea. 
And said no word, till from her precious things 
She drew a casket fiill of chains and rings, 
And took thei-efrom a chaplet brown 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 joni- blood. 
That in such wise yo gaze upon this land 
With tearful eye, and nerveless, languid hand. 
And heaving breast, and measureless desire ? 
Be wise, for here the never-dying fire 
The Uod-begott«n wonder, Circe, lights. 
The wise of women, framer 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 besl^l form. 



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" And good It had been that some bitter storm 
Were tos^ng Argo's planks from sea t« gea, 
Than ye hod reached this fair land, but for me. 
Who amid t«ars and prayers, and nameless pain, 
Some little wisdom have made =hift to gam 
Look forth upon the green shore and behold 
Those many beasts, all collared with fine gold 
Lions and pards, and small-eyed restless be art 
And tusked boars, who from nneasy lano 
Are just come forth ; nor is there mongst them one 
But once walked upright underneath the sun 
And had the name of man : such shall ye be, 
If from the ship ye wander heedlessly, 
Hut 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 mnd-swept green Thessaliaa plain. 

" MeanwhUe. 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 hut lost men and their undoets fair." 

But with that word they furrowed the wet sand. 
And straight they ran the gangway out (o 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 Minyje on their bow-strings set 
The notches of their arrows-, but the maid 
Turned round about, with calm face unafraid. 
And said : " Minyje, lay your weapons down. 
Nor fear for me ; behold this ehaplet brown. 
Whose withered leaves rest lightly on my head. 



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igo THE LIFE AND DEATH 

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 grialj smae her limbs did glide. 
And OQ a lion's mane her hand she laid ; 
]Jut still with moans (hey thronged about the maid. 
As she passed onward to the palace white. 
Until the elm-groves lid 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 tbat fair bay that Pclion beholds. 

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 bid the fair feet of a marble house, 
Carved thick with flowers and stories amorous. 
And midmost of the slender garden trees 
A ^Ided shrine stood, set with images, 
Wherefrom the never-dying Are 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 shrine four streamlets ran 
From golden founts to freshen that green place. 

So ttiere Medea stayed a Httle space. 



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OF JASO^. I 

Gazing in wonder through the silver rail 

That fenced the garden from the wooded vale ; 

For damsffils wandered there in languid wise 

As though they wearied of that Paradise, 

Their jewelled raiment dra^ng from its stalk 

The harmless daisy in their listless walk. 

But though from rosy heel to golden head 

Most fdr they were and wrought with white and red, 

Like to the casket-bearer who heguiled 

The hapless one, and though their lips stili smiled. 

Yet to the Colchian heavy-eyed they seemed. 

And each at other gazed as though she dreamed, 

Not noting anght of all the gloriong show 

She joined herself, nor seemmg more to know 

What words she spoke nor what her fellows sung. 

Nor feeling arras that haply round her clung. 

For here and there the Colchian maid could see 
Some browned seafarer kissing eagerly 
White feet or haif-hared hosom, and could hear 
A rough voice stammering 'twist love and fear 
Amid the dreamy murmur of the place, 
As on hia knees, with eager upturned fkce. 
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 al! reply. 
Still gazing on his flushed (ace 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 (hem lead 
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-oyed beasts about her saw 
These draw towards them, and beheld the gate 
Open and shut, and fellows to that state 



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192 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

New corae, they whined, and brushing round her feet 

Prayed for return unto that garden sweet, 

Their own undoing once, that yet nhall be 

Death unto many a toiler of the sea, 

Because all these outside the silver grate 

Were men indeed though inarticulate, 

ADd. spite of seeming, in none otherwise 

Did longing torture them, than when in guise 

Of men they s(«od before that garden green, 

And first their eyes the baneful place had seen. 

But now the queen grew wroth, for in her way. 
Before the gat* a yellow lion lay, _ 
A tiger-cat her raiment brushed aside. 
And o'er her feet she felt a serpent glide. 
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 1 
Get irom this place, for never more ean ye 
Become partaltevs of the majesty 
That from man's soul looks through his eager eyes. 
Go — wail that ever je were made so wise 
As men are made who chase through smooth and rougl] 
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 
Take any heed of her as she passed by, 



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But, if they met her eyes, stared listlessly, 
Lite those who walk id sleep, and as they dream 
Turn empty faces to the lightning's gleam, 
And munnnr 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 whoso knees an open book did press, 
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 Dot so much 
As the cool lipple hides Diana's feet, 
When through the brook the roe-deer, slim ami fleet, 
She follows at the dawning of the day. 

Smiling, she put the wondrous book away ; 
As the li^ht tboistepa fell upon her ear, 
She raised her head, and when the queen drew near, 
She|aaid : " wanderer from 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 
£W that had happed to thee that haps to all. 
Into the troublous sea of love to foil. 
Then like unto the gods shouldst tbon have been. 
Nor ever died, but sitting here have seen 
The feshion of the foolish world go by. 
And drunk the cup of power and majesty. 

" But now it may not be, and then must come. 
With him thou houghtedst, to a troublous home ; 
But dnce indeed the fates will have it so, 
Take heed thou dost the things I bid thee do. 
And, first, Muce thou wouldst have me purify 
Your hands of his blood that thou sawest die 
'Twist yellow Phasis and the green-ridged sea. 



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194 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Behold, this is not possible to me, 
Nor ever must another altar stand 
In this green nook of the Italian land 
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 tfl spare 
Spiees and golden things and raiment fiiir. 
But to the country folk give things of price. 
And from them take wherewith to sacrifice, 
A hundred milk-white bulls, a hundred kine, 
And many a jar of unmised honeyed wine. 
And, crowned with olive, round the altars sing 
Unto the God who gUiddens everything. 
Thy father's father, tho 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 
'Xeath the Trinacrian clifli?, whereon shall lie 



Fair women, fairer than thine eyes have a 
And if thou still wouldst be a Grecian queen, 
When to that deadly place ye 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 banc 
And sings thereto some Grod-delighting strmn. 
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 
Beach out unto those bodies fair and white. 
They clasp but death instead of their delight. 

" But, doing as I bid, Malea reach. 
And after, nigh lolchos Argo beach. 
Yet at the city haste ye not to land, 



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For still the sceptre presses Peliaa' hand, 
And JEsoa is at rest for e 



195 



Bid then thy folk lurk by some wooded shore, 
And tfl the white-walled city straightly wend 
Thyself alone, and safely there make end 
Of the King's life ; nor need I t«aoh thee how, 
For deep unfailing wiles thy soul doth know. 

"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 ? 
child, I know all things, indeed, but why 
Shouldst thou know all, nor yet be wise theref 
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 30, else surely would they stint their strife, 
For lengthening out their little span of life. 
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 wills 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, 
Lon^ngs and hopes, and joy in drawing breath. 
And they live happy, knowing uought at all, 
Nov what death is, where that shall chance to fall. 
For while he Uvea, 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 suoh 
As the Gods live in their unchanged abode, 
And yet not joyless ; no unmeasured load 
Of sorrow shall thy dull soul learn to bear, 



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196 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

With nought to keep thee biick from death but fear. 
Of what thou know st not, knowing nought but pain. 
" But though full oft ttiou shalt lift hands in vain, 
Crying to what thou know'at not in thy need. 
And blind with agony, yet oft, indeed, 
Shalt thou go nigh to tlunk 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 kncwest what must be. 
And then, at least, this shall not hap to thee. 
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, 
These hands have made, and can unmake again. 
Nor know they aught of love, or fear, or pmn. 
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, ihat erst were wan, 
Flaming with new desire, and in thine eyes 
Shine out new thoughts that from thine heart ai'ise ; 
Gird up thy raiment, nor run slower now 
Than from the amorous bearer of the bow 
Once Daphne ran ; nor yet forget the word 
That thou from deadly lips this day bast heard." 



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So said she, and thereat the Colchian maid 
Turned from her fair face shuddering and afraid, 
With beating heart, and flashed 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 aa she left it, musky odours soft 
Were cast about her by the dallying breeze, 
That 'twist the heaTy-fruited garden-trees 
Blew o'er those golden heads and bodies white, 
And limbs well made for manifold delight, 
From 'twist whose Angers and the stiings did flow 
Sweet music such as Helicon might know. 

But dizzied, hurrying through the place she past. 
Nor any look upon tiieir beauty east, 
Nor any thought unto the music gave, 
But set herself her own vest soul to save 
From that dread place ; beginning now to run 
Like to a damsel of the lightfoot One, 
Who ofl from twilight unto twilight goes 
Through still dark woods, where never rough wind blow 

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 hei'oes saw 
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, 
And with him went the arrow-loving man. 
The wise Arcadian, and the Miayas 
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 me but fear. 
And all is well if on the sea we were ; 



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198 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Yea, if we once were free from fear and spell, 
Then, truly, better were all things than well." 

Thereat they stayed, but onward still she van 
UntU she reached Uiem, and the godlike man 
Took by the arm, and hurrying bim along. 
Stayed not until their feet ^ere 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 s 



Heartsick with all that shame has let him se 
Grieved that no boldor he has dared to be. 



BOOK XIV. 

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, 
Aud there-along they coasted two days more. 
Then first Medea warned them to take heed. 
Lest they should end all memory of their deed 
Where dwell the Sirens on the yellow sand. 
And folk should tbink some tangled poisonous land 
Had buried Ihem, or some tumidtuous sea 
O'er their white bones was tosang angrily; 
Or that some muddy river, far from Greece, 
Drove seaward o'er the ringlets of the fleece. 

But when the Minjse hearkened (o this word, 
With many a thought their wearied hearts were stirred. 



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And longing for the near-^ined 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 seen- 
And like a dream the glory of their quest. 
And therewithal some thought of present rest 
Stole over them, and well-nigh made them sigh 
To hear the sighing restless wind go by. 

But now, nigh even on the second day, 
As o'er the gentle waves they took their way, 
The orange-scent«d 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. 
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 laid. 
To those worn toilers o'er the bitter sea. 

Now. as they sped along, they presently. 
Rounding a beadknd, reached a little bay. 
Walled ftom the sea by splintered cliffs and grey. 
Capped by the thymy hills' green wind-beat head. 
Where 'mid the whin the burrowing rabbits fed. 
And 'neath the cliff they saw a waste 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 muae welled. 

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. 



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200 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

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 thiiie hand, 

And Eteer us toward the Iton-hauntod land : 

And thou, Thracian ! if thou ere hast moved 

Men's hearts, with stories of the Gods who loved, 

And men who sufiered, mOTe them on this day. 

Taking the deadly love of death away. 

That even now is stealing over them, 

While still they gaze upon the ocean's hem. 

Whore their undoing is if they hut 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 hlow 
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 bad need a bait to set, 
But their own 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. 

A moment Jason gazed, then through the waist 
Ban swiftly, and with trembling hands made hasto 
To trim the sail, then to the tiller ran, 
And thrust aside the skilled Milesian man, 
AVho with half-open mouth, and dreamy eyes. 



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Stood steering Argo to tliat land of lies, 
But as lie stapigered 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 
To Thraoian Orpheus : " Minstrel, 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 heds, and not to noble deeds? 
Or will they fell 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 hut beasts, but thou 
Gim" these souls, that all were men ere now 
Shall be a very God and not a man ! " 

So spate he ; but his fingers Orpheus ran 
Over the strings, and sighing turned away 
From that f^r ending of the sunny bay ; 
Hut 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 white limbs flew the flakes of spray. 
Since they spared not to set white feet among 
The cold waves heedless of their honeyed 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 ; 
V^ot, as their words are no more known aright 
Through lapse of many ages, and no man 
Can any more across the waters wan 
Behold those singing women of the sea, 
Oaoe more I pray you all to pardon mo, 



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202 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

If with my feeble voice and harsli I eing 
From what dim memories may chance to cling 
Ahout men's hearts, of lovely things once sung 
Beside the sea, wliile yet the world was young. 

The Sirens. 
happy seafarers are ye, 

And Eurelj all your ills are pst, 
And toil upon the land and sea, 

Since ye are brought to us at last. 

To you the fiishion of the world. 

Wide lands laid waste, fair cities burned. 

And plagues, and kings from kingdoms hurje 
Are nought, since hither ye have turned. 

For as upon this heaeh we stand, 
And o'er our heads the sea-fowl flit, 

Our eyes behold a glorious land, 
And soon shall je be kings of it. 



A little more, a little more, 

carriers of the Glolden Fleece, 

A little labour with the oar, 

IJefore we roaeh the land of Greece. 

E'en now perchance faint rumours reach 
Men's ears of this our victory. 

And dram them down unto the beach 
To gaze across the empty soa. 

But since the longed-for day is nigb, 
And scarce a God could stay ua now, 

Why do ye hung jour heads and agh. 
And still go slower and more slow 1 



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TeB SlEENS. 

Ah, had ye chanced to reauh the home 
Your fond desires were set upoD, 

Into what troublea had ye come ! 
What harren victory had yo won ! 

But now, but now, when ye have lain 

Asleep with us a little while 
Beneath the washing of the main, 

How calm shall he your waking smile '. 

For ye shall smile to think of iifc 

That knows no troublous change or fear, 

No unavailing bitter strife, 

That ere its time briDgs trouhle near. 

OnpiiEua. 

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 brougiit ? 

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 't 

Orhikus. 

Is not the May time now on earth. 
When close against the city wall 

The folk are singing in their mirth. 

While on their beads tbe May-flowers fall ? 



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THE LIFE AND DEATH 



The SmKNS. 
Yes, Maj is come, and its sweet breath 

Shall well-nigli make you weep to-day, 
And pensive with swift-coming death. 

Shall ye be satiate of the May. 

OuPKEns. 
Shall not July bring fresh delight, 

As undernea,th green trees ye sit. 
And o'er some damsel's body white 

The noontide shadows change and flit '( 

Tub Siress, 
No new deUght July shall bring 

]iut ancient fear and fresh desire. 
And, spite of every lovely thing. 

Of July surely shall ye tire. 



And now when August comes on thee. 
And 'mid the golden sea of com 

The merry reapers thou mayst see. 

Wilt thou still think the earth forlorn ? 

The Sib ens. 
Set flowers on thy short-lived head, 

And in thine heart forgetfulness 
Of man's hard toil, and scanty bread, 

And weary of those days no leas. 

Orpheus. 

Or wilt thou climb the sunny hill. 

In the October afternoon. 
To watch the purpio earth's blood fill 

The grey vat to the maiden's tune ? 



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The Siuens. 
^\^len tliou Iteginnest to grow old, 

Bring back rememliraiiM of thy bliss 
With that the shining cup doth bold, 

And weary helplessly of this. 

Orpheus. 
Or pitasureless shall we pass by 

The long cold night and leaden day, 
That song, and tale, and minstrelsy 

Shall make as merry as the May? 

Tns SiKSNS. 
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? 

dttHEUS. 

And when the world is bora again. 
And with some fair We, side by side, 

Thou wanderest 'twist the sun and rain, 
In that fresh lore-begetting tide ; 

Then, when the world is bom again, 
And tlie sweet year before thee lies, 

Shall thy heart think of coming pain. 
Or vex itself with u 



The 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. 



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2o6 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Ah 1 when the world is bom again, 
A little Asj is soon gone by, 

When tliou, unmoyed hy sun or rain, 
Within a cold itraight house shall lie. 

Therewith they ceased awhile, as languidly 
The head of Argo fell oiF toward 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. 
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 siek and sinking hearts ye strive 
To cheat yourselves that ye may live 
With cold death ever close at hand, 
Think rather of a peaceful land, 
The changeless land whore ye may be 
Roofed over l)y the changeful sea. 

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 now the kingdoms change. 
The pointed hands, and wondering 
At doers of a dosporate thing? 
Push on, for surely this shall bo 
Across a narrow strip of sea. 



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Alas ! poor soula and timorous, 
Will yc draw nigh to gaze at \>s 
And Eee if we are fair indeed ? 
For such as we shall be jour 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 hieas, 
wanderers of the Minyse, 
Worn toilers over land and sea ? 



Okphbus. 

Fair as the lightning thwart the sky. 
As 8un-dyed snow upon the high 
Untrodden heaps of threatening stone 
The eagle looks upon alone, 
fair as the doomed victim's wreath, 
fair as deadly sleep and death. 
What will ye with them, earthly men, 
To mate your threescore years and ten ? 
Toil rather, suffer and he free, 
Betwixt the green earth and the sea. 



The Sirens. 

If ye be hold with us tc go, 
Things such as happy dreams may show 
Shall your once heavy eyes hehold 
About onr palaces of gold ; 
Where waters 'neath the waters run. 
And from o'erhead a harmless sun 
Gleams through the woods of chrysolite. 



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i HUE LIFE AND DEATH 

There gardens faii-er to tlie sight 
Than those of the Phreaeian king 
Shall ye behold ; and, wondering, 
Gaze on the sea-horn fruit and flowers, 
And thomless and unchanging bowers, 
Whereof the May-time knoweth nought. 

So to the pillared house being hrought. 
Poor souls, ye shall not be alone. 
For o'er the floors of pale blue stone 
All day such feet as oura shall pass, 
Aud, 'twist the glimmering walls of glass. 
Such bodies garlanded witli gold, 
So faint, BO fair, shall yo behold. 
And clean forget the treachery 
Of changing earth and tumbling sea. 

OrpJibus. 

the aweet valley of deep grass, 
Where through the summer stream doth pi 
In chain of shadow, and still pool. 
From misty mom 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. 
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 wnite limbs and sweet grey eyes 
Shine from the calm green pool and deep. 
While round about the swallows sweep. 



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Not silent ; and would Gfod that wc, 
Like ihem, were landed from the sea. 

The Sirens. 

Shall we not rise with jou at night, 
Up through the shimmering green twilight, 
That maketh theve our changeless day. 
Then going through the moonlight grey, 
Shall we not sit upon these sands, 
To think upon the trouhloua lands 
Long left behind, where once ye were. 
When every day brought change and fear ? 
There, with white arms about you twined, 
And shuddering somewhat at the wind 
That ye rejoiced ercwhile to meet. 
He happy, while old stories sweet, 
Half understood, float round your ears, 
And fill your eyes mth happy tears. 

Ah ! while we sing unto you there. 
As now we sing, with yellow hair 
Blown round about these peariy limbs, 
While underneath the grey sky swims 
The light shell-sailor of the wavea, 
And to our song, from sea-filled caves 
Booms out an echoing harmony. 
Shall ye not love the peaceful sea ? 

Orpheus. 
Nigh the vine-covered hillocks green. 
In days agone, have I not seen 
The brown-clad maidens amorous. 
Below the long rose-trellised house, 
Dance to the cjuerulous pipe and shrill, 
When the grey shadow of the hill 
Was lengthening at tho end of day? 



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) THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Not shadowy or pale were they, 
But limbed like those who 'twixt the trees 
Follow the swift of Goddesses. 
Sunburnt they are somewhat, iodeed. 
To where the rough brown woollen weed 
Is drawn across their bosoms sweet. 
Or cast from oif their dancing feet ; 
But yet the stars, the moonlight grey. 
The water wan, the dawn of day, 
Can see their bodies fair and white 
As Hors, who once, for man's delight. 
Before the world grew hard and old, 
Came o'er the bitter sea and cold ; 
And surely Ihose 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. 
would that I were with them when 
The risen moon is gathering light, 
And yellow from the homestead white 
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 vcs you there, no hope or fear 
Of that which never draweth near; 
But in that lovely land and still 
Ye may remember what ye will. 
And what ye will, forget for aye. 



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OF JASON. 

So while the kingdoms pasa away, 
Ye sea-beat hardened toilers erst, 
Unresling, for vain fame athirst. 
Shall be at peace for evermore, 
With hearts fulfilled of Godlike lore, 
And oalm, unwayering Godlike love, 
No lapse of time can turn or move. 
There, ages after your fair fleece 
Is clean forgotten, yea, and Greece 
Is no more counted glorious, 
Alone with us, alone with us, 
Alone with us, dwell happily. 
Beneath our tremhling roof of soa, 

Orphbhs. 

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 
Than this, to die and not to die. 
To he as if ye ne'er had been, 
Yet keep your memory fresh and green, 
To have no thought of good or ill. 
Yet keep some thrilling 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, 
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 flower-scented wind, 
The dew, the gentle rain at night. 



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212 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

The wonder-working snow and white, 
Tbe song of birds, tlie water's fell, 
The sun that maketh bliss of all ; 
Yea, this our toil and victory, 
The tyrannous and conc[uered sea. 

Tub Sikenb. 
All, will ye go, and whither then 

Will ye go from ns, soon to die, 
To fill your threescore years and ten 

With many au unnamed misery 1 

And tlia the wretehedest of all. 
That when upon jour lonely eyes 

The last faint heaviness shall fall 
Ye shall hethink you of our eries. 

Come back, nor, grown old, seek in vain 
To hear ns sing aoross the sea ; 

Come back, come back, come back again. 
Come hack, fearful Minyse '. 

Okphecs. 
Ah, once again, ah, once again. 

The black prow plunges through the sea. 
Nor yet shall all your toil he vain. 

Nor ye forgot, Minyse. 

In snch wise sang the Thracian, in such wise 
Outgushed the Sirens' deadly melodies ; 
But long before the mingled song was done, 
Back to the oars the Miny^, one hy one. 
Slunk silently ; though many an one sighed sore. 
As his straig fingers met the wood once more. 
And from his hreast the toilsome breathing came. 



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But as they laboured, some for very sliarae 
Hung down their Leiida, and yet amongst them some 
Gazed at the phice whence that sweet song had come ; 
But round the oars and Argo's shielded eido 
The sea grew white, and she began to glide 
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 shvoud and mast, and all the song had ceased, 
Botes 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 oara, but he 
Rose to the top, and towards the shore swam fast. 
While all eyes wat«hed him, who had well nigh past 
The place where sand and water 'gan to meet 
In wreaths and ripples round the ivory feet. 
When sun-burnt awimraer, 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 upros* into the air 
A delicate and glittering little cloud. 
That seemed some many-colonred sun to shroud ; 
But as the rugged cliff it drew above 
The wondering Minyse beheld it move 
Westward, toward Lilybjeum and the sun. 

Then once more was their seaward course begun. 
And soon those deadly sands were far ast«m. 
Nor ever after could the heroes learn 
If Butes lived or died r but old tales f«ll 
That as the tumbling waves he breasted well, 
Venus beheld him, as unseen she drew 
From sunny Cyprus to the headland blue 
Of Lilybceum, where her temple is; 



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214 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

She, with a mind his sun-burnt brows to kiss. 
E'en as his feet were dropping nigh the beacli, 
And ere his hand the deadly hands could reach. 
Stooped, as the merUn stoops upon the dove, 
And snatched him thence to be awhile her love, 
Betwixt the eolden pillars of her shrine, 
That those who pass the ^gades see shine 
From high-raised Lilyhseum o'er the sea. 

But far away the sea-beat Minyai 
Cast forth the foam, as through the growing night 
Thej 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 VEun toil struggling with the jatefiil 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, 
Needs must thej onee again forget their death, 
Needs must they, being alivo and drawing hreatli. 
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 thej went. 
But on the third day made another land 
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 
To push across the shallowing sea and green. 
That washed a land the tairest they bad seen, 
Whose shell-*rtrewn beacb at highest of the tide 
'Twist sea and flowery shore was nowise wide. 
And drawn a little backward from the sea 
There stood a marble wall wrought cunningly, 



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OF JASON. 2t 

Bosy and white, set thick with images, 

And over-topped with heavj-fruited trees. 

Which by the shore ran, as the bay did bend. 

And to their eyes had neither gap nor end ; 

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 cnps of oranges 

Hung amid groves of pointed cypress trees ; 

On grassy slopes the twining vine-bongha grew, 

And hoary olives 'twist far mountains blue. 

And many-coloured flowers, like a cloud 

The rugged southern cliffs did softly shroud ; 

And many a green-necked bird they saw alight 

Within the slim-leaved, thorny pomegranate. 

That flung its unatrung rubies on the grass. 

And slowly o'er tbe place the wind did pass 

Heavy with many odours that it bore 

From thymy bills down to the sea-beat shore. 

Because no flower there is, that all the year, 

From spring to autumn, beareth otherwhere, 

But there it flourished ; nor the fruit alone 

From 'twist the green leaves and the boughs outshone. 

For there each tree was ever flowering. 

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 
Boiled sleepily upon the fruit-strewn grass, 
Letting the conies 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 brown, 
And as a picture was the lion's frown. 

But in the midst there was a grassy space, 
Raised somewhat over all the flowery place, 



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2l6 THE LIFE AND DKATII 

On marLle terrace-walls wrought like a dream ; 
And round about it ran a clear blue stream, 
Bridged o'er with marble eteps, and midmost there 
Grew a green tree, whose smooth grey bougbs did i; 
Such fruit as never man elsewhere has seen, 
I'or 'twixt the sunlight and the Bbadow green 
Shone out fair apples of red gleaming gold. 
Moreover round the tree, in many a fold, 
Lay coiled a dragon, glitteriDg little less 
Than that which his eternal watchfulness 
Was set to guard ; nor yot was he alone, 
For from the daisied grass about him shone 
Oold raiment wrapping round two damsels fair, 
And one upon the steps combed out her hair. 
And with shut eyes sung low aa in a dream ; 
And one stood naked in the cold bine stream, 
While on the bank her golden raiment lay ; 
But on that noontide of the quivering day. 
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 lot 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, 
From out the water made good haste to get. 
And catching up her raiment hastily, 
Kan up the martile stair, and 'gan to cry : — 
" Wake, my sisters, wake, for now are come 
The thieves of M& 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. 



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Meanwhile, from Argo many a eea-beat face 
Gaaed lon^ngly upon that lorelj place, 
And some their eager hands already laid 
Upon the gangway. Then Medea said : — 
" Get back unto the oars, Miny^, 
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 wateh, scarco can a God 
Set foot upon the fruit-bespiinlfled sod 
'i'hat no snow ever covers V therefore hasfo. 
Nor yet in wondering your fair lives waste ; 
For these are aa the Gods, nor think of us. 
Nor to their eyea 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 woary 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." 

She cea^, and little soothly did they grieve, 
For all its loveiiness, that land to leave. 
For now some God had chilled their hardihead. 
And in their hearts had net a sacred dread, 
They knew not why ; hut on their oars they liung, 
A little longer as the sisters sung. 

" ye, who to this place have strayed. 
That never for man's oyca waa made. 
Depart in haste, as ye have come. 
And bear back to your sea-beat home 
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. 



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I THE LIFE AXD DEATH 

" 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 onto worse all grew. 

" But since the golden age is gone, 
This little place is left alone. 
Unchanged, unchan^ng, 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, 
Not 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, 
Among these beasts that fear her nought. 
Nor is it less in Pallas' thought. 
Beneath our trees to ponder o'er 
The wide, nnfethonied sea of lore ; 
And oft-kissed Cithersca, no less 
Weary of love, iiill oft 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 
Whero-uader old times buried lie. 
Before the world knew misery. 
Nor will me have a slave or liicg, 
Nor yet will we learn anything 
But that we know, that makes us glad, 
While oft the very Giods arc sad 
With knowing what the Fates shall do. 

" Neither from us shall wisdom go 
To fill the hungering hearts of men. 



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OF JASOlf. 

Lest to them threescore years and ten 
Oome but to seem a little day, 
Once given, taken sooq away. 
Nay, rather let them find their life 
Bitter and sweet, fulfilled of strife. 
Restless with hope, vain with regret. 
Trembling with fear, moat strangely set 
'Twist 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. 

" Let earth and heaven go their way, 
While still wo wateh from day to day, 
Iq this gieen 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 whea the air was barren of their song, 
Anigh the shore they durst not linger long, 
So northward turned forewearied Argo's bead. 
And dipping oars, from that fair country sped, 
Fulfilled of new desires and pensive thought, 
Which that day's life unto their hearts had brought. 

Then bard they toiled upon the bitter sea, 
And in two days they did not fail to he 
In sight of land, a headland high and blue, 
Which straight Milesian Erginus knew 
To be the fateful place whicli now they sought, 
Stormy Malea : so thitherward they brought 
The groaning ship, and, casting anchor, lay 
Beneath that headland's lee, mthin a bay, 
Wberefrom the more part landed, and their feet 
Once more the happy soil of Greece did meet, 

Theremth they felled not to bring ashore 
Rich robes of price and of fair arms good store, 



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220 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And gold and silver, tbat they thcro might buy 

What jet they bckod for their solemnity ; 

Then, whilo upon the highost point of land 

Some built an altar, Jason, with a hand 

Of all the chiofest of the Minjfe, 

Turned inland from the murmur of the sea. 

Not far they went ere by a little stream 
Down in a valloy they oould see the gleam 
Of brazen pillars and fair-gilded vanes. 
And, dropping down by dank dark-wooded lanes 
From off the hill-sido, reached a house at last 
"Where, in and out men slaves and momon passed. 
And guests were streaming ftst into the hail 
Where now the oaken boards were laid for all. 
With these the Msnyse went, and soon they were 
Within a pillared halt both great and fair. 
Where folk already sat boside the board, 
And on the dais was an ancient lord. 

But when these saw the fearless Minya; 
Glittering id arms, they sprang up hastily, 
And each man turned about unto the wall 
To seize his spear or statf : then through the hall 
Jason cried out ; " Laoonians, fear ye not. 
Nor leave the flesli-ineat while it yet is hot 
For dread of us, for we are men as ye, 
And I am Jason of the Minyfe, 
And come from iEa to the land of Greece, 
And in my ship bear back the Golden Fleece, 
And a fair Colohian queen to till my bed. 
And now we pray to share your wine and bread, 
And other thiogs we need, and at our hands 
That ye will take fair things of many lands." 

" Sirs," said the ancient lord, " be welcome her. 
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 



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With joyful si 
Of brass and steel, up to the dais thoy went, 
All eyes apon the Minyte were bent, 
Nor could thej have enough of wondering 
At this or that sea-tossod victorious king. 

So with the strangers there they held high feast. 
And afterwards tho slaves drove many a beast 
Down to the shore, and carried hack again 
Great store of precious things in pack and wain ; 
Wronght gold and silver, gems, full many a bale 
Of scarlet cloth, and fine silk, fit to veil 
The perfect limba of dreaded Gknldessea ; 
Spices fresh-gathered from the outland trees, 
And arms well-wrought, and precious scarco-knowt 
And carvon images well-nigh divine. 

So when all folk with these were satisfied. 
Back went the Miny» to the water-side. 
And with them that old lord, faia to behold 
Victorious Argo and the Fleece of Gold. 
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 hy the gilt-homed beaala. 
There, as the feir sun rose, did Jason break 
Over the altar the thin barley-cake. 
And oast the salt abroad, and there were slain 
The milk-white bulls, and there red wine did rain 
On to the fire from out tho 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, 



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222 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Ftoth time to time in pleading song aoA prayer. 
Swept liy the wind ai)Out the suinTner air. 
Clear rung the voices of (he Minjie 
Unto the dashing of the eonijuered sea. 
That far helow thrust on by tide and wind 
The crumbliog bases of the headland niined. 



BOOK XV. 

BUT on tbe morrow did the Minyie 
Turn Argo's bead 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 
Seomed all the strange things they had seen erewhile, 
Now when they knew the very green sea's sniile 
Beneath the rising and the sotting sun, 
And their return tbey surely now had won 
To those familiar things long left behind. 
When on their sails hard drave the western wind. 

So past EulKea did they run apace, 
And swe^ with oars the perilous green race 
Betwist Oerintbus and the islands white ; 
But, when they now had doubled that dread height. 
The shields that glittered upon Argo's side 
Thoy drew inboard, and made a shift to hide 
Her golden eye and gleaming braveries, 
And heaped the deck with tales of merchandise. 
And on their yards sails patched and brown they bent. 
And crawling slowly, with six oars they went, 
Till Argo seemed like some Phoenician 
Grown old and leaky, on the water wan. 



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Now at the entering uf their own green baj 
There lies an island that men call to-3ay 
Gi'een Cicynethus, low, and covered o'er 
With eluse-set trees, and distant fitim the shore 
But some five furlongs, and a shallow sea 
'Twist main and island ripples languidly, 
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 lea; 
Hid from the straits, and there struck eail 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 fall-leaved boughs of spreading maple-trees. 
And covered Argo's seawai'd side with these. 
And then the sbipmen did >[edoa bid 
To hold a shallop ready, while she hid 
Her lovely body in a rongli grey gown 
And heavy home-spun mantle coarse and brown. 
And round abont her a great wallet slung. 
And to her neck an uncouth image hung 
Of Taurie Artemis, the cruel maid. 

Then, all being ready, to the prince slie said : — 
" well-beloved, amongst onr foes I go 
Alone and weak, nor do I surely know 
If I shall live or die there ; bat do thou 
Keep a watch ever, who from off the prow 
Shall took towards white lolchos o'er the bay, 
And watching, wait until the seventh day. 
And if no sign thoa 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; 



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224 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Yet do I think ttou wilt be man enow 

Unto the whitc-wiiUed 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 thoii wilt soon forget, 

Vhen 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 ham 

And have no power e'en to meet these eyes 

That for thy love shall see such miseries." 

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 beg-an to say : — 
" Weep not, love, for surely many a day 
May we be merry and forget all ill, 
Nor have I jet 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 mo 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 
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. 



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She stepped ashore, and back the hero turned 
Unto his fellows, who, with hearts that burned, 
Untfl the quays to bring great Argo's stem, 
And gain the glory that was waiting them. 
Watched ever for the sigD across the bay, 
Tilt nigh the dawnmg of the seventh day. 

Hut from the shore unto a thick-leaved wood 
Medea turned, drawing both cloak and hood 
llight close about her, lest perchance some man. 
Some hind, or fistier in the water wan, 
Should wonder at her visage, that indeed 
Seemed little worthy of tliat wretehed weed. 

In that thick wood a little stream there was. 
That here was well-nigh hidden of tho gra-ss, 
And there swelled into pools both clear and deep, 
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 Md 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 Unen from her body fiur, 
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 ance 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 fiunt-hued ivory. 
Carved by a master among cunning men. 

So still she stood, that the quick water-hen 
Noted her not, as through the blue niouse^ar 



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220 THJH LIFE AND DEATH 

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 Id a while, sighing, she turned away. 
And, going up to where the frallet lay. 
She opened it, and thence a phial drew 
That seemed to he well wronght of crystal blue. 
Which when she had unstopped, therefrom she poured 
Into the hollow of an Indian gourd 
A pale green liquor, wherefrom there arose 
Such scent as o er some poisonous Talley blows, 
Where nought hut dull-sealed 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 moro 
Unto the woodland brook, but, hurrying. 
Drew on her raiment, and made haste to sling 
Hi?r wallet round about her, nor forgot 
The Tauric image, eve the lovely spot 
She left unto the rabbit and the roe. 

And now straight toward lolohos did she go. 
But as she went, a hideous, fearful change 
Had come on her ; from sunken eyes and strange 
She gaaed around ; white grew her golden hair. 
And seventy years her body seemed to bear ; 
As though the world that coppioe had passed by 
For half an age, and caught her presently, 
When from ita borders once her foot had passed. 

Then she began to murmur, as she cast 
From changed eyes glances on her wrinkled hands : 
" Jason ! surely not for many lands. 



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Bicb and gold-bearing lands, would I do tliis ; 
But jet with thee to gain good peace aud Wisa 
Far greater things would Ihave done to-day." 

So saying, she made haste upon her way, 
Until at last, wheu it was well-nigh night. 
She reached the city orowned with towers white, 
And passing by the brazen ffates of it, 
Forewearied, by a fountain did she ^t ; 
Where, as she waited, came an ancient crone. 
Who, 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, wbere dwelt long ago 
My fathers, if |>erehance folk yet may know 
Where they lie baried, that on that same stone 
I may lie down and die ; a hapless one. 
Whom folk onee 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 bound into the land of Thrace, 
And thence to some unnamed, far northern place. 
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, 
Wbom 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 certdnly, though nought of gold I have. 
In the far northland did I gather lore 
Of this and that amid my labour sore ; 



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228 7'nE LIFE AND DEATH 

And chiefly of this Goddess, rites I know, 
\Vhose 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 ho 
E'en as the Gods, and gain eternity, 
And how the work of years may he undone." 

When she had finished, the Thessalian crone. 
Filling her jar with water, tnroed and swd : — 

*' Surely, Athenian, I am sore afraid, 
Ere ihou 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 l» save : 
Bnt hearken now, if thou art wise and bold, 
Then will I show thee how thon mayst earn gold 
And thanks eoow, by telling this thy tale 
Unto rich folk, for them will it avail 
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 tflil, 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 Latena's daughter erst have heard. 
Nor trembled at the heavy dreadful word," 

Then on they passed, and, as they went, the oron 
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 ,iEetes had been fain 
To trap the Argo, all had been in vain. 
Yet had he gone back well-nigh satisfied ; 



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OF JASON. 3 

For in the flight to him a voioo had cried 
Louder and clearer than a mortal can ; — 
" Go haclc to -^a, sun-begotten man, 
And there forget thy daughter and thy fleece. 
But yet he 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 woos, — 
Lo, thus it happeneHi now unto thy foes ! " 

This, said the crone, a Colchian bad told 
To Pelias, dweller in the house of gold, 
And had large gifts irom him ; who when he knew 
The certainty of this, old JEson slew 
With all his house who at lolchos were. 

" So," said she, " if, for quieting his fear 
Of the sea-rover, such things be did give, 
^Miat would his gifts be if thou mad'st bim live 
His life again, with dodo of all his name 
Alive, to give him fear of death or shame ? " 
With that they came nnto the royal house 
Where PeUas dwelt, grown old and timorous. 
Oppressed with blood of those that he had slain, 
Desiring wealth and longer life in vaio. 

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 peaceftil garden sung, 
Irtke that where sung the wise Hesperides. 
But as she walked between the smooth- stemmed trees 
She saw the sea rise o'er the marble wall. 
And, rolUng o'er, drown grass and flowers and all. 
And draw on towards her, who no whit eould move, 
Though from the high land Jason, her own love. 
Was shouting out to her; so then, at last. 



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230 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Sho dreamed the waters over all had passed 
And reached her feet, and o'er her coldly swept, 
And still undrewaed, beneath the waves she wept. 
And still waa 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. 
And as she oped her eyes, she heaid her say : — 
" Awake, guest, for yet another day 
We twain must bear before wc gain our rest. 
But now indeed I think it to be best 
That to ray ladles I alone should show 
That prayers, and riles, 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 
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, thinkin| of this or that. 
And wishing that the glonous day were come. 
When she should set her love within his home, 
A king once more. So, 'mid these thoughts, there can 
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. 
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 ont the wool 
And filled tho gleaming ivory shuttles full. 



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Amphinome, nieantime, iier golden head 
Bent o'er the spinners of ihe milk-white thread, 
And hy the growing weh still set aside 
The many-colouied oundlea newly dyed, 
Blood-red, and heavenly hlue, and grassy green. 
Yea, and more colours than man yet has seen 
In flowery meadows midmost of the May, 

Then lo the royal inaida the crone 'gan say : — 
" Behold the woman, my mistresses. 
Who 'midst the elose-set gloomy northern trees 
Has late learned that I told you of; and ye 
Who in this roya! house live happily, 
May well desire life for evermore. 
Which unto me were hnt a burden sore." 

Therewith she left them, hut folk say, indeed. 
That she who spoke was nought but Saturn's seed 
In very likeness of that woman old, 
Whose hody soon folk came on, dead and cold 
Within the place where she was wont to dwell. 
Now how these things may be, I eannot toll, 
But certainly Queen Juno's will was good 
To finish that which, in the oaken wood 
Anigh the Centaur's cave, she first began, 
Giving good heart to the strange -nurtured man. 

But, she being gone, fair-limhed Amphinome 
Said : " Keverend mother, welcome here ye be. 
And in return for thy so hard-earned lore 
That thou wilt teach us, surely nevermore 
Shalt thou do labour whil^ thou dwellest here. 
But unto ns shalt thou be lief and dear 
As though thou wert the best of all our blood." 

But, pondering awhile, Medea stood, 
Tlien answered; " Lady, I am now grown old, 
And hut small gifts lo me were heaps of gold. 
Or rest itself, for that the tomb shall ^ve j 



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232 THE LIFE AND DEATK 

I say, all things are nought, unless I live 

So long henceforward, that I need cot thiak 

When into nothing I at last must sink ; 

Bat take me now unto the mighty king 

That rules this land, and there, by eyerjtiiing 

That he holds sacred, let him snear to me 

That I shall live in peace and liberty 

Till quiet death upoa my head is brought ; 

But Uiis great oath being made, things ahaU 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." 

TheQ much they wondered at the wonis she said, 
And from the loom did fair Alcesda rise. 
And tall Amphinome withdrew her eyes 
From the fair spinners, and Eradne left; 
The carding of the fine wool for tlie weft. 
Then said Eradne : " Mother, fear not thou, 
Surely our father is good man enow, 
And will not barm thee : natheless, he will swear 
By whatsoever thing he holdeth dear. 
Nor noedst thou have a doubt of him at all. 
Come, for ho sittcth now within the hall." 

With that, she tuok 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 ixiyal raiment drew 
Through golden girdles, gemmed and richly wrought. 
And forth with them the Colohian maid they brought. 
But as unto the rojal 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. 



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OF JASON. 

Wearing his royal crown and mystic ring, 

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 lieu in his lair, 

Bestrewn with bones of beast, and man, and maid. 

Then as be turned to them, Aloestis said ; — 
" lord and father, here wo bring to thee 
A wise old woman, come from over sea, 
Who 'raid tho gloomy, oloso-set northern trees 
Has heard the words of reverend Goddesses 
I dare not name aloud ; therefore she knows 
Why this thing perishes, and that thing grows. 
And what to unborn creatures must be^l, 
And this, the very chiefest thing of all. 
To make the old man live his life again, 
And all the lapso of years but nought and vain ; 
But we, when these strange things of her we heard, 
Trembled before her, and were sore afoard, 
In 'midst of all our measureless desire 
Within thy veins and ours to set new fire, 
And with thee live for many a happy day, 
Whilst all about us passes soon away." 

Now paler grew the king's face at this word. 
And 'mid strange hopes he, too, grow sore afeard, 
As, sighing, he began to think of days, 
Now long gone by, when he was winning praise. 
And thougbt : " If so bo 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, 
Wbatso 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, 
Smce thou hast mastered this all-saving art. 



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234 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Keeping but vagrant life for thine own part, 
Of what tiou boasteat with the Gods \a share, 
Thou, hut a dying woman, nowiso fair t " 

" Pelias," she said, " far from tlie north I come. 
But in Erectheus' eity was my home. 
Where being alone, npon a luckless day. 
By the sea-rovers was I snatched away, 
And in their long-ship, with bound, lielpless hands, 
Was brought t« Thraec, and thence to northern lands, 
Of one of which I scarcely know the name. 
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 
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 writhe 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. 
Aod 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 ; 
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 
Where dwell the giants dead ; and many a time 



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Have my pale lips uttered the impioua rhyme 
That calls the dea^ from their unchaaged abode ; 
Till on my soul there lay a heavy load 
Of bnowlecige, not without rewsu^, for I 
No longer weat ia rags and misery, 
But in Buch 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, 

" Moreover, whether that, being dead to foar. 
All things I noted, or that somewhat dear 
I now was grown to those dread Goddesses, 
I know not, yet amidst the haunted trees 
More things I learned than my old mistress did. 
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 destruetion ; aad whea these were learned, 
At last my mistress all her wage had earned. 
And to the world was dead for evennore. 

" But me indeed the whole house hated sore, 
First for my knowledge, nest that, sooth to say, 
I, when I well had passed my ovi! day, 
And came to rule, spared not ray fellows anght ; 
Whereby tliis 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. 
My lips beseeeh thy help, mighty King ! 
Help me, that I myself may do the thing 
I most desire, and this great gift 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. 



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236 THE LIFE AND BEATS 

" And if thou douLtest still, then hear me say 
The woi-ds thou spak'et upon a long-past day, 
When thou wert fearful, and the half-shod man 
Had come upon thee thiough the water wan." 

She ceased awhile, and therewith Pelias, 
With open mouth and eyes as fixed as glass 
Stared at her, wondering. Then again she said : — 
" Awhile ago, when he thou knowest dead. 
And he thou thinkest dead, were by thy side, 
A cvafty wile thou forgedst ; at that tide 
Telling the tale of Tbeban Athamas, 
And how that Phiyxus dead at .^a was. 
Thinking (and not in vain) to light the fire 
Of glorious deeds, and measureless desire 
Of fame within the hearts of men o'eihold, 

" For thus thou saidst : ' So is the story told 
Of things that happened forty years agone, 
Nor of the Greeks has there been any one 
To set the hones of Phryxus in a tonih, 
Or meet out to the Colohian his due doom.' 

" So saidst thou then, and by such words didst d 
Thy nephew in a hopeless game to strive. 
Wherefore thou deemest wisely be is dead. 
And all the words that he can say are said." 

She ceased again, while pale and shuddering. 
Across his eyes the crafty, fearful king 
Drew trembling hunds. But yet again she spoke : ■ 
"What if the Gods by mo the strong chain broke 
Of thy past deeds, ill deeds wrought not in vain. 
And thou with new desires lived again 1 
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, 
Swear on this image of great Artemis 
That unto me thy purpose harndess is. 



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Nor wilt thou do mo hurt, or more or less ; 
Tlien while thy hps the ivory image piess. 
Will I call down ail terrors that I know 
Upon thine bead if thou shouldst break thy vow. 

" Yet for thyself dost thou trust what I say, 
Or wilt thou still be dying day by day'i " 

" Yea," said the king, " yea, whosoe'er thou art, 
Needs must I trust thee, in such wise my heart 
Desires Ufe again when this is done. 
Give me the image, thou fearful one, 
Who knowest all my life, who in the breath 
Wherein thou prayest help still thrcatencst death." 

Then on the imago clid she swoar the king, 
But while he spoke was she still muttering. 
With glittering eyes fiscd on him ; but at last. 
When from his lips tho dreadful word had passed. 
She said : " King, pray that thou mayst not die 
Before the fifth day's sun has risen high ; 
Yet on to-morrow mom shalt thou behold 
This hair of mine all glittering as gold, 
My tottering feet firm planted on the ground, 
My grey and shrivelled arms grown white and round. 
As once, when by lUssus' side I trod, 
A snare of beauty to a very G-od, 
To young men's eyes a fierce coasuming 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, 
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. 



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238 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Unto the womon'e eliamber led her back, 

And bade ber say what matters she might lauk. 

Then little did she ask unto her need, 
But fair cold water, and some fitting weed. 
And in a close^hut 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-hong chamber did they set, 
And filled with clear cold water, adding yet 
New raiment wrought about with ruddy gold. 
And snowy linen wrapped in many a fold. 

Then did Medea turn unte the three. 
And sdd ; " FareweU, for no more shall ye see 
Those limbs alive, or bear 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-past. 
And if ye still shall find the door shut fast. 
Then let the men bring hammers, neither doubt 
That thence my corpse alone shall they bear out. 
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 sec 
Grown young again ; alas ! grown young again I 
Would God that I were past the fear and pain ! " 

80 said the Colchian ; but their fearful eyes 
Turned hastily from such hid mysteries 
As there might lurk ; and lo their bower they gat, 



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And well-nigh silent o'er the weaving sat, 

And did what things they needs must do that day, 

Undl th^ six hours' space had passed away. 

Then had the sun set, and the whitening moon 
Shone o'er the gardens wheco the brown bird's tune 
Was quivering through the roses red and white, 
And sweeter smelt the flowers with the night ; 
But to the ehamber where there lay alone 
The wise Medea, up the faint grey stone 
Two rose-trees climbed, along a trellis led, 
And with their wealth of flowers white and red 
Another gaiden of the window made. 

So now the royal sisters, sore afraid, 
Eaeh with a taper in her trembling hand, 
Before the fitteful chamber-door did stand 
And heard no noise : whereon Amphinome 
Pushed at the door, that yielded, and the three 
Passinff with beating hearts the oaken door. 
Pressed noiseless feet upon the polished floor, 
Beddening the moonshine with their tapers' light. 

There thoy beheld the caldron gleaming bright. 
And on the floor the heap of raiment rent 
That erst had hid the hody old and bent ; 
And there a crystal phial they beheld 
Empty, that once some wondrous Uquor held ; 
Ana by the window-side asleep they saw 
The Colehian woman white, without a flaw 
Prom 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 weli-toved man. 
SofUy she breathed, the while the moonlight ran 
In silver ripples o'er her hair of gohi. 

But when that loveliness they did behold, 
Thoy cried aloud for wonder, though not yet 
Her happy dreaming thoughla would she forget. 



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24° IV/fi LIFE AND DEATH 

But into spoken words her murmuring grow, 
Though of their purport nought the sisters knew, 
Since in the oatlanci Colohian tongue she spoke ; 
Then, whiic they waited, slowiy she awoke. 
And looking round ker, still with half-shut eyes, 
She said : " damsels, fain would I arise, 
T hear the morning murmur of the hirds 
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 tapera' Ught, 
And said : " queens, and are ye come to me 
This eve, my triumph over time to see t 
And is my boast for nought? behold me made 
Like the fiiir casket-bearer who betrayed 
The luckless man while yet the world was young." 
So saying did she speak as one who sung, 
So sweet her voice was ; then she slept adown 
From off the silken couch, and rough and brown 
They seemed beside her, fiur mwds though tiiey were. 

But silently they stood, and wondered there, 
And from their hearts had flown all thoughts at last 
But that of hving while the world went past. 

Then at her feet Aleestis knelt and prayed ; — 
" 0, who can see thee, Goddess, unafraid? 
Yet thou thyself hast promised life to us. 
More than maa's feeble life, and perilous, 
And if thy promise now thou makest vain, 
IIow can. we live our thoughtless life again ? 
Then, would thou ne'er hadst left thine heavenly home, 
And o'er the green Thessalian meadows come 1 " 

Then spoke Medea : " Young as ye see me 
The king, your father, in few days shall be. 
And when that be has gained his just reward. 
Your lives from death and danger will I guard ; 



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Goddess am I, but no more 
Thaa a poor wanderer from shore to shore, 
Thougb loved by her the swift of Goddesaes, 
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 
By all the thoughts that round my heart will throng 
Of ancient days, and hopes forgotten long ; 
Go, therelbre, but come hither with the sun 
To do my bidding ; then shall there be done 
Another marve! ere the morn comes round. 
If yet yo 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 ; 
Nor could she fail arising to be glad 
That once again her own fair form she had. 
And as the fi«sh 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 liissiug side and limb. 
And it was sweet about her ankles slim 
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 awo 
In the fresh morn that loveliness they saw. 

Then said Medea : " I'air queens well be ye ! 
Surely in happy hour ye o«me to me. 
Who, if I might, would do the whole world good. 



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242 THE LIFE AHV DEATH 

But now tafco heed ; is there Bonie close dark wood 

Atiigh the towQ? — 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 jour 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 Goda ; there, too, must ye eonyoy 

A brazen caldron ero the end of day, 

And nigh the place there must not fail to be 

Some running stream to help our mystery. 

Yet more ; tSte heed that Sho 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 yc be clad in smocks of black. 

And all adornment must your bodies laek. 

Nor must there bo a fiUot on your hair. 

And the bard road must feel your feet all bare." 

" Lady," Eradne said, " all shall he done. 
Nor wilt thou yet have had beneath the sua 
More faithfiil servants than we are to thee ; 
But wilt thou not the king my father see. 
And gladden him, that he may ^ve thee things 
Such as the heart desires — the spoil of kings?" 

" Nay," said Medea, " much have I to think 
Ere the hot sun beneath tho 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 tho image of the swiftfoot one. 
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. 



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Saying tliat all was ready in the wood, 
Anil that tbo night alone they waited now, 
Ere unto them those marvels she might show. 
Therefore Medea hade them come again 
When a]l the house of p«aceful sleep was fain, 
And nought was stirring ; so at dead of night 
They came to her in black apparel dight. 
Bearing like raiment for the Oolchian, 
Who did it on before their fac«s wan 
And troubled eyes ; then out of gates they stole. 
Setting their faces to the wished-for goal. 

Now nigh Anaurus a blind pathway leads 
Betwixt the yellow com and whispering reeds, 
The home of many a shy, quick-diving bird ; 
Thereby they passed, and as they went they heard 
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, 
Bnt that the Colehian whispered : " Wise be ye, 
Thessalian waters, 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 he. 
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 stflod 
An old homed ram bound fast unto a tree, 
Which the torch-bearer, tall Amphinome, 
Showed to Medea, and not far therefrom 
Unto a braaen caldron did thoy come. 
Hidden with green boughs ; then Medea bade 
That by their hands a high pile should be made 
Of follen wood, and all else fit to bum ; 



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244 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Which done, unto the caldron did they tuni, 

And bore it to the river, and did strain 

Their fair roand arms to hear it batk again 

When it was filled, and raised it on the pile. 

And then with hands unused to service vile 

Lit iip the fire, while Medea took 

Dried herbs from out her wallet, which she shook 

Into the caldron ; till at last a cloud 

Boge iip therefrom and tho dark trees did shrond. 

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 Eradno thrust the knife, 
While in the whito arms of Amphinome 
And fair Alcestis, bleating piteously, 
Feebly he struggled ; so being slain at last, 
Piecemeal his membors did the sisters cast 
Into the seething water : then drew back 
And hid their faces in their raiment black, 
The while Medea midst the flickering light 
Still sprinkled herbs from out her fingers white. 
And in a steady voice at last did Bay : — 

" thou that turnest eight into the day, 

though the quencher of unhallowed fire. 
The scourge of hot, inordinate desire, 
Hast thou a mind to help me on this night. 

That wrong may stitl be wrong, and right be right 
In all men's eyes'? A little thing I a^ 
Before I put an ending to my task." 

Scarce had she finished, ere a low black eloud 
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 down the rain did f^U, 



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OF JASON. 

As ttough some angry deity were fain 
To make a pool of tlie Thessalian plain. 

Till ill a while it ceased, and all was slillal 
Esocpt the murmur of some brook new-fillcJ, 
And dripping of the thick-leaved forest trees 
Aa they moved gontty in the luUowing breeze. 
Yet still King Pelias' daughters feared to rise, 
And with wet raicnent still they hid their eyes. 
And trembled, and white-armed Ainphinome 
Had dropped the long torch of the resin4ree, 
That lay half-charred among the tall wot grass. 
But nnto thera did wise Malea pass, 
And said : " 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 ia 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. 
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 would lick the Colehian'a naked feet. 
As close he nes'tled 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 
In her white arms, and smiled triumphantly. 
And said : " What things the Gods will do for mo 
Ye now behold; take, then, this new-born beast, 



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246 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And liope to sit long ages at the feast, 
And this your youth and lovelinesa to keep 
When all that ye have known are laid asleep. 
Yet steel your hearts to do a fearful thing. 
Ere thia oan happen, for unto the liing 
Must your hands do what they have done to-night 
To this same beast. And now, to work aright 
What yet is needful to this mystery. 
Will he four days' full bitter toil for me. 
Take heed that silence, too, on this ye keep. 
Or else a hitter 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 would make folk glad or sad. 

But now they turned back on their homeward way, 
Fleeing before the coming of the day ; 
Nor yet the flinty way their feet did feel, 
Nor their wet limbs the wind, that 'gan to steal 
Prom out the north-west ere the son 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 town 
And fair- walled palace, and to lay them down 
Upon their fragrant beds, that stood forlorn 
Of their white bodies, waiting for the morn 
In chambers elose-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, 



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And there buy this or that ; therewith she went 
About the town, seeming crook-backed and bent ; 
And, hidden in her mantle and great hood, 
IVitliin the crowded market-|(lace she stood, 
And marked the talk of alt 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 [iart. 

For, going back, till the fifth day was gone 
She dwelt mthin her chamber all alone, 
Except that now and then the sisters came 
To bring her food ; and whil^ they saw a flame. 
Strange-coloured, burning on the hearti, while she 
Was bending o'er it, muttering wearily, 
And whiles thoy 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. 
And that dread hidden forest of bright steel. 
Said to Eradne, when her food she brought 
Upon the sixth mom : '■ Sistef, I have thought 
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 he 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 ; 
There what ye will ye may most surely do. 
If ye will work the way I counsel you. 
Therewith a pliial in her band she set. 
And said : " Who tasteth this will soon forget 



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248 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Both life and deatli, and for no noise will wake 
In two days' Space ; therefore this phial take, 
And with the ling's drink see ye mingle it. 
As well je may, and let his servants sit 
O'er wine so honeyed at the feast to-night. 
Then eertes shall their sleep not be so light. 
That bare feet pattering across the floor. 
Or Tinnsed creaking of an open door, 
Shall rouse them ; though no deadly drag it is, 
But bringer of kind sleep and dreamy bliss. 

"But now, what think stlhou? AreyourLeartsso 
That ye will dare to shed your father's blood 
That be 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 
By burning me with quick iire 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 
Por all her feithful servants : ye did see 
Late in the green-wood how she loveth me. 

" Therefore be wise, and when lo-night ye draw 
The sharp^dged steel, glittering without a flaw. 
Cast fear and pity from you. Rty him 
I bid jou rather, who, with shrunken limb 
And sunken eyes, remembers well the days 
When in the ranks of war he garnered praise. 
Which unarmed, feeble, as his lost year ends, 
Babbhng 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, 
Sball he live honoured, free from fear or strife." 

" Fear not," Eradne said, " our will to-night. 
For all thy bidding will we do outright. 



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Since BiiO a Goddess thou dost seem to lie 

To us poor strugglera 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 aU nights, close by there 

My &ther sleeps, as oft his custom is, 

When he is fain a Mysian ^rl t« kiss, 

Sea-rovers sold to him three months agone. 

There afler midnight we shall he alone 

Beyond all doubt, since this place by the sea 

A temple is of some divinity, 

Whose veiy 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 Oolchian won much praise. 
And promises of many happy days. 

Then as upon the door she laid her hand, 
Medea said : " When midnight hides He land. 
Come hero to mc, 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 drawn by many fears ; 
But when ye come, in such guise be ye ebd 
As in the wood that other night ye had." 
Then did Er I e lei e he jnd 1 e day 
Through sun h ne and th o gh bhidow p s ei away. 

But with the m dn ght came the s s era th ee 
To lead her to that ten pie by the sea. 
And m black ra ment had they hu r ed there 
With naked feet and una lor ed 1 o o ha 
K'en as the the n gh Mel a hale 
Except that each one hai a ench bl de 
Slnng round her ne k whe ew ii o I tl e lee 1. 



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250 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Of these Alcestis trembled like the reed 
Set midmost of some quickly ranning stream, 
But with strange Are Eradne'e eyes did gleam. 
And a blight flush was burning on her cheek, 
As still her lingera the sharp steel did seek ; 
"While tail Amphinome, grown pale and white 
Beyond all measure, gazed into the night 
With steady eyes, as with the queen they went 
To Ihat lone place to work out tiieir intent. 

So when all euurta and corridors were passed, 
Unto the ancient fane they came at last. 
And found 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 
As men built in the lands Medea knew, 
Or in the countries fate had led her through : 
But they, sot 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 Minyce came adown unto that shore 
From fair Orchomenus, of whose rites indeed. 
And to what Gods the victim then did bleed, 
3Ien 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. 
But this fair fane was open to the night 
On one dde only, toward the restless sea ; 
And there a terrace, wrought full cunningly. 
Cleat of the pillars hung above the sand. 

Now went those maids, groping with outstretched hand 
Betwixt the pillars of the undercroft, 



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OF JASON. 

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 murmuiing 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 st<>od around ; 
And, as they spoke, f» them the faint low sound 
Of their own whispered voiees 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. 
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 liair. 
And scant blaek 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 bo. 
And to such misery shall such a king 
Lead wife and child, and every living thing 
That trusts him." Then she said : " Leave me al 
And go and do that which were better done 
Ere any streak of dawn makes grey the sky. 
And come to nio when ye have seen him lio 
Dead to his old life of misdeeds and woe," 



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aS2 THE LIFE AVD DEATH 

Then voiceless from tiie torchli^lit did they go 
Into the darlineaa and she left alone, 
Set by the torches till the die! was done 
Within the pillars and fumed back again 
With eager eyes to gazo 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 anused ground, 
Whereby they passed into that fateful place, 
And gazed thereon with steadfast wary face. 
And there the pavement, whitened by the wind, 
Betwixt the turf she saw, and nigh it, twined 
About a marble image oarelessly, 
A white wild-rose, and the grey boundary 
Of wind-beat stone, through whose unhinged 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 
A change came, telling of the dawning nigh. 
And with svrift footsteps she began to pace 
Betwixt the narrow limits of the place ; 
But as she turned rouni^ 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 
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 



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The thin black raiment of the ^st«rs 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 bj the undercroft. 
And then she heard them struggling bear aloft, 
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 tane, 
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 BO at last the body down they laid 
Close by the caldi'on, and Eradne said : — 

" thou, our life and saviour I 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 paU 
Which she had seen laid over either knee. 
The wonder of King .^E!son's treasury. 
Which wise Phcenicians for much coined gold. 
And many oxen, years agone had sold 
To .^^n, when folk called him king and lord. 

Then t« 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 tbing it was. 
And saw indeed the face of Felias, 



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254 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Then o'er ber pale face a bright flush there came, 
And, turning, dia she set the torches' flame 
TJnto the dry brands of the well-built pyre, 
And, standing baok, and waving from the fire 
The shuddering ^rls, somewhat thereon she east. 
Like unto incense : then with furious blast 
Shot up a smokeless flame into the air, 
Quivering and red, nor then did she forboar 
To cry aloud, in her old Colchian tongue. 
Proud words, and passionate, that strangely rung 
Within the poor bemldered sisters' ears. 
Filling their hearts with vague and horrid fears. 

" love ! " she said, " O love ! sweet delight ! 
Hast thou begun to weep for me this night. 
Dost thou streteh out for me thy mighty hands — 
The feared of all, the graspers of the hinds? 
Come then, love, across the dark seas come, 
And triumph as a king in thine own home, 
While I, the doer of this happy deed. 
Shall sit beade thee in this wretched weed ; 
That folk may know me by thine eyes alone 
Still blessing him for all that I have done. 
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 flamo rose higher, 
A portent to the dwellers in the town. 
Unto the shepherd waking on the down, 
A terror telling of ill things to be. 

But from the God-built tower of Thessaly, 
Grey Pelion, did the centaur Cheiron gaze. 



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OF JASON. 

And when he saw that ruddy flame outblazo, 

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 fato." 

So to the flowery eastern slopes he gat, 
Waiting the dawn, nor hoped for this or that. 



BOOK XVI. 

BUT other watchers were there on that night, 
Who saw the birth of that desired light 
From nigh green Cicjnethus' woody shore. 

For in mid-channel there, with eyery oar 
Run out, and cable ready for the slip. 
Did Jason hold his glorious storm-tossed ship, 
While in the top did keen-eyed Lynceus stand. 
And every man had ready to his hand 
Sharp spear, and painted shield, and grinded sword. 
Thus as they waited, suddenly the word 
Bang out ^m Jason's mouth, and in the sea 
The cable splashed, and straight the Minysc 
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 lolchoa did they take their way. 

Meanwhile the Oolchian queen triumphantly 
Watched the grey dawn sted forth above the sea. 
Still murmuring softly in the Colchian tongue, 
While o'er her nead the flickering fire hung, 
And in the brazen caldron's lips did gleam ; 



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2S6 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Wherefrom went up a gceat white cloud of steara, 
To die above their heads in that fresh air. 
But Pelias' daughters, writhing in despair, 
Silent for dread of her, she noted nought, 
Nor of the dead man laid thereby she thought. 

At last came forward tall Amphinoine, 
And said: " Queen, look o'er the whitening sea, 
And t«ll US now what thins it is we lack 
To bring oar father's vanished breathing back 
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 
Shall find us slayers of our father here. 
Then if thou hast no pity, hast thou fear 1 
We are king's daughters still, and with us still 
Are men who heed nought but to do our will ; 
And if thou iall'st into the hands of these. 
Thou ahalt lament the gloomy northern trees 
And pjunlesa 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 
Burnt out within her heart, and on her knees 
She fell, and cried : " crown of Goddesses, 
Forgive those impious words, and answer mo, 
Else shall I try if the green heaving sea 
Will hide from all these impious blood-stained haiul:', 
Or hear them far away lo savage lands, 
That know no good or evil ; speak, speak ! 
How can I pray thee when all words are weak t 
What ^flfl, what worship, shall we give to thee 1 " 



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E'en as gte spoke, Medea seemed to seo 
A twinkling light far ofF amidst tlie bay, 
Then from tlie suppliant hand she drew away. 
Nor turned to her ; bat looking seaward still, 
She cried : " love ! yet shalt thou have thy ftll 
Of wealth, and power, and much desired fame, 
Nor shall the Grecian folk forget Diy 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, 
And therewithal the grey dawn coming fast. 
And from them now well-nigh aU hope had passed. 
But feir Alcestis, grovelling ou the ground, 
And crying out, cast both her arms around 
Medea's knees, and panting, and half-dead. 
Poured forth mid words, nor knew the words she said. 
While the two others, mad with tlieir despair. 
Ban wailing through the pillars here and there. 
Nor knew indeed what thing had come on them. 
For now, at last, fair Ai^'s plunging stem 
Medea saw in the still gathering light. 
And round 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 Qods have unmade I ean make ? 
Lo I with the dead shall Pelias awake. 
And see such things as dead men's eyes may see." 

Then as Alcestis, moaning wretchedly, 
FeU 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 faiue ? 



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258 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And still doubt not that I, who have to name 
The wise Medea, in such ways as this 
Have long been struggling for a life of bliss 
I shall not giiin ; and thus do aU men Jo, 
And win such wages as have happed to jou. 

" Rise up and gaae at what toe fat^s have wrought, 
And all the counsels they have brought to nought 
On this same mom. Hearken the dash of ours 
That never more ye thought 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 r^ses in his conquering hand 
The guarded marvel of the Colchian land, 
This dead king deemed hid death and unknown woe ! 
See how his folk ashore the grapnels throw ! — 
And see, and see ! beneath the risen sun, 
How fair a day for this land is begun ! 
And let king Pelias rise if now he can, 
And stop the coming of tho balf-shod man," 

E'en as she spoke, the keel had touched tho sand, 
And catching up her rdment in her hand, 
She ran with speed, and gmned the temple close, 
Made fragrant with that many-flowered rose, 
And o'er its daisied grass sped toward the beach ; 
But when her feet the wrinkled sand did reach. 
There, nigh tho 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 s*e. 

But when be saw her hurrying him to meet. 
With wild wind-tangled hair, and naked fcet, 
And outstretched hands, and scanty raiment black. 
But for one moment did he start aback. 
As if some guardian spirit of the land 
Had come upon him ; but the nest, his hand 
Had caught her slim wrist, and ho shouted out : 



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OF 
" Ashore, heroes ! and i 


JASON. 
10 more hare doubt 


That aU is w 11 1 w b 


wished were done 


By this my 1 b h ! 


glorious one, 


The saviour f my 1 f h 


Queen of Love, 


To whom a] n all wh 


e above, 


Or on the earth w )1 1 1 


wine, or give 


The life of an h ng ha 


n e did live." 



Then all men shouting, leapt forth on the sand. 
And stood about them, shield and spear in hand, 
Rejoicing that their mighty task was done ; 
But as he saw the newly-risen sun 
Shine on the town, upon their loft that lay, 
Then, smiling joyously, did Jason say : — 

" heroes, tell me, is not the day woo 1 
Look how the sun's rays now are stealing on. 
And soon will touch that temple's marhle feet 
Where stood the king our parting keel to greet. 
But the great golden image of the Gbd 
Holds up, nnUghted yet, his crystal rod, 
And surely ere the noon shaO gleam on it 
Upon my father's throne his son shall sit, 
Hedged round with spears of loyal men and ti-ue. 
And all he done that we went forth to do." 

But, 'midst their shooting, spoke the queen agai 
" Jason, behold hereby this ancient fane — 
Amidst its pillars lot the heroes go 
Until a marble stair they come unto, 
And thereby mount into a pillared place. 
At end whereof, upon an open space 
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 tho slayer of thy sire, 
Who, soothly, shall not flee from them to-day. 
Nor curse the men who carry him away." 



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26o THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Then forth Meii<etius and Nauphius stood, 
Ljnceua the keen, and Apheus of tlie wood, 
To do the thing that she would have them do, 
While unto Argo did Medea go. 
And for the last time scaled the sea-heat aide ; 
There 'midst her silien ourtains did she hide, 
And taking forth the feirest weed she had. 
In many a fiugranl fold her body clad. 
And on her feet hound golden eandals iiiir, 
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 hsul wrought the thing. 
For, scared amid their woe and misery, 
By clash of arms, the wretched sisters three 
Were lurking yet within the undercroft. 
Amongst the dose-set pillars, thinking oft 
That now the whole round world should be undone. 

But while they trembled, -SJson's glorious son 
Bade men make onward toward the marketplace, 
That there he might the wondering townsfolk face 
For war or peace whieheyer it midit be ; 
But first upon a great oar carefully 
They bound a spar crosswise, and hung thereon 
That guarded marvel that theu" arms had won. 
And as a banner bore it well aJofl. 
And fitir 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. 

So, following up the poor unkingly bier 
Of him who erst, for love of gain and fear. 



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Had sent tliem forth to what he deemed their end, 
They through the palace courts began to wend, 
Not stayed of any, since the guards indeeil 
Still slept, made heavy by the drowsy weed 
Eradne in their wine erewhile did steep. 
And other folk, just lisen from their sleep, 
Looked from the windows 'mazed; and like a dream 
The queen, enthroned on golden cloths did seem, 
And like a dream the high-raised, glittering Fleece, 
And that new-slain long-hated pest of Greece. 
And some indeed there were 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. 
They, crying ont for joy, beheld the Fleece, 
And that fiiir Helper who had saved for Greece 
The godlike heroes, and amidst of these 
Seemed not the least of heavenly Goddesses. 

Withal they reached at last the brazen gate 
Of .Slson's house, outside of which did wait 
Men armed and shouting, for that dawn a man 
None knew, a fisher on the water wan. 
From house to house among the folk had gone, 
Who said, that being in his boat alone, 
Casting his nets a little time before 
The dawn, he heard the sound of many an oar. 
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 tike a dream, with flood of tide. 
As for the tar-off ancient fane she made ; 
And that thereon bis anchor straight he weighed, 
And made good haste the landing-place to gain. 
" For certes," said he, " Pelias is slain. 



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262 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And we are free once more." So saying, he passed 
From house to house, aud reached the gat«s at last; 
Nor any saw him more on land or eea, 
And, certes, none but clear-voiced Mercury 
Spoke in that man by helpful Juno made, 
No body, soothly, but a hollow shade. 

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, 
And folded hands, and chiefest thing of all. 
The godlike man who went beside the pall. 
Whereon the body of their tyrant lay, 
Then did their voices iail them on that day. 
And many a man of weeping there was fiun. 

At last did Jason set his foot again 
Upon the steps of that same ivory throne 
Where onee he fronted Pelias all alone, 
And hare of friends : but now he turned about. 
And, 'mid the thunder of the people's shout. 
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 slaver of his kin. 

Then did he clasp the hand that lay within 
His mighty and sword-hardencd fingers brown, 
And eried aloud above tho shouting town : — 

" Tell me, O people of my father's land, 
Before whose ivory well-wrought throne T stand. 
And whose fiiir- towered house mine eyes heboid, 
Glittering with brazen pillars, rich with gold? 



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OF JASON. 263 

"A while ago we sailed across the sea, 
To myiit our deaths, if eo the thing must be, 
And there had died, had not the kind Gods been, 
Who sent to us this lovely Coichiao queea 
To he 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 
Unto tlie soft wind and the Grecian sea, 
Until this mom our keel triumphantly 
PuiTOwed 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 wore brought, 
Whose face I knew, the face of Pelias. 

" Then still more warily thence did we pass, 
Till we met folk who told us everything, 
Both of the slaying of the godlike king, 
.Slson, ray father, and of other folk. 
And how the whole land groaned beneath the yoke 
Of this dead man, whom sure the Gtods 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 wrought, therefore am I here, 
No shield upon mine arm, no glittering spear 
In my right hand, hut by my unarmed side 
This Colehian Queen, by many sorrows tried. 
Therefore, no fear of you is in my heart ; 
And if ye will, henceforth will I depart, 
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, 
TJke what he was before tl 



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264 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Fell on hU head. Bot in no wise will I 
Take seat beneath this golden canopy, 
Before ye tell me, people of this land, 
Whose throne this is before the which I stand, 
Whose towered house this is mine eyes hehold, 
Girt round with brazen piliars, bright with gold," 

Then, ere he ceased, the people's shouta broke in 
Upon his speech : " Most glorious of thy kin 1 
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 ! " 

Therewith the heroes clashed their spears and shields. 
And as within the many-flowered, fields 
This way and that the slim-stalked flowers bend, 
When sweeping gusts the soft west wind doth send 
Among their hosts, so moved (he 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 
They chattered through the great sqnare joyously, 
Fkieh careless what bis neighbor's words might he ; 
It sounded like some February mead, 
^Vhere thick the Instred starlings creep and feed. 
And each his own song sings unto his mate. 
Chiding the fickle spring so cold and late. 

But through the happy clamour of the folk, 
At Jason's bidding, the great trumpet broke. 
And great Eohion s voice rang clear and strong, 
As he cried silence; then across the throng 
Did Jason cry : "0 people, thanked be ye, 
That in such wise je give yourselves to me. 



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And now, friends, what more is there to say 
But tiii&'t Be glad, and feast this happy day. 
Nor spend one coin of your store for ttiis ; 
Nor shall the altars of the high Gods miss 
Their due thank-offering : and She chief of all, 
Who caused that this same happy time should fall, 
Shall have a tithe of all that ^ongs to me. 

" And ye, loved companions o'er tho sea, 
Come to my golden house, and let ua feast. 
Nor let time weary us this night at least ; 
O ! be so glad that this our happy day 
For all times past, all times to come may pay." 

He eeased, 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 Minyae ; 
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 aU the temples of that city feir. 
And royal ^s they gave the great Grods 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 
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 lie king might show. 

Then still more did the royal man rejoice. 



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266 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And o'or the people, lifting up liia voice, 

Cried: " See, Tliessalians, who is on my side. 

Nor fear je now hut plenty will abide 

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 lands whore dwells the sluggish white-felled hoar." 

So spake he, glad past words ; and for the rest 
Did Juno love him well dace his great quest 
Had brought home bitter death on Peliaa, 
And his love's words had brought the thing to pass, 
That o'er his head was hanging, since the day 
When from Sidero dead he turned away. 
And as with Neleua 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 hade 
That straightway should a royal tomb bo made 
To lay him in, anigh the murmuring sea, 
Where, celebrating their great victory. 
They might do honour to his head reerowned, 
And 'mid their shouts all mourning might be drowned. 
Nor gladden lie shin Peliaa' lonely shade 
By weeping o'er the slaughter he had made. 

Therefrom unto his own house Jason eame. 
He had not entered since the night his name 
Rang 'twist the marble walls triumphantly, 
And all folk set their hearts upon the sea. 
So now again, when shadows '^n 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, 
Once more tbe maidens' flower-scattering hands 
Seemed better prizes than well-peopled lands. 



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Glorious and royal, now the dood was done, 
Seemed in that hall the face of every one, 
Who, 'twixt the thin plank and tho bubbling sea. 
Had pulled the smooth oar-handle past his Itneo. 
Tuneful each voice seemed as the heroes told 
The marvels that their eyes did erst heboid. 
Unto some merchant of the goodly town, 
Or some rich man who on the thymy down 
Fed store of sheep, and in whose lush green mead 
The heavy-uddered cows wore wont to feed. 

And she who aH this world of joy had made. 
And dared so many things all unafraid. 
Now sat a Queen beside her crowned King. 
And as his love increased with every thing 
She did or said, forgot her happy state 
In JEa of old times, ere mighty iate 
Brought Argo's ade from out the dashers twain, 
Betwixt tho rainbow and the briny nun. 
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 least 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 ; 
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 night did fall, 
Though outside silence fell on man and beast, 
There still they sat, nor wearied of the feast ; 



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268 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Tea, ere they parted, glimmering light had come 
From the far mountains, nigb the Colehian'a home. 
And in the twilight birds began to wake. 

But the next mom, for slaughtered ^son's sake, 
The games began, with many a sacrifice, 
And, these being all accomplished, gifts of price 
The heroes took at Jason's open hands. 
And, going homewards, untfl many lauds 
They bore the story of tlieir wandering. 

And now is Jason mighty lord and king, 
And wedded to the foireat 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. 
So, having everything he once desired 
Within the wild, ere yet his heart was fired 
By Juno's word, he lives an envied man. 
Having these things that scarce another can ; 
Ease, love, and fiime, and youth that knows no dread 
Of any horrors lurking far ahead 
Across the sunny, flowered fields of life : — 
— Touth seeing no end unto the joyous strife. 

And thus in happy days, and rest, and peace. 
Here ends the winning of the Golden Fleece. 



BOOK XVU. 

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 



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OF JASON. 2 

Had but some portion of that mastery 

That from the rose-hung lanes of woody Kent 

Through these five hundred years such songs have seut 

To us, who, meshed within this smoky net 

Of unrejoicing labour, love them yet. 

And thou, Master ! — Yea, my Master still. 

Whatever feet have scaled Parnassus' hill, 

Since like thy measures, clear, and sweet, and strong, 

TUamea' stream scarce fettered bore the bream along 

Unto the hastioned bridge, bis only chain, — 

Master, pardon mc, if yet in vain 

Thoa art my Master, and I fail to bring 

Before men's eyes the imago of the thing 

My heart is filled with : thoo whose dreamy eyes 

Beheld the flush to CressiJ's cheeks arise, 

As Troilus rode up the praising street. 

As olearly as they saw tliy townsmen meet 

Those who in vineyards of Poictou withstood 

The glittering horror of the stcel-toppcd wood. 

Ten years have passed, since in the marltet-plauo 
The hero stood with flushed and conquering face. 
And life before him tike one happy day ; 
But many an hour thereof has passed away 
In mingled trouble and felicity. 
And now at Corinth, kissed by either sea, 
He dwells, not governed now or governing. 
Since there his kinsman Creon is a king. 

And with him sljll abides the Colchlan, 
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. 
ISut in these ten sweet years of rest and peace 
Two fair man-children has she borne to hini. 
Who, joyous, im of face, and strong of limb. 



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370 THE LIB'E AND DEATH 

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 beeeh-trees grow, 
And, with a grey old woman tending them, 
Shall make an ^a of some beech-ti-ee's stem. 
About whose roots there stands the water black. 
Nor of the fleece shall thoy have any lack. 
For in the bushes hangs much tangled wool 
Prom wandering sheep who seek the shadow cool ; 
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, 
Whom folk look soon to gather wealth and praise. 

And 'midst these living things has Argo found 
A homo here also ; on the spot of ground 
'Twist Neptune's temple and the eastern sea, 
She looks across the waves unceasingly ; 
And as their ridges draw on toward the land, 
The wind tells stories of the kingly hand. 
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 Symplegadea, 
And when again she rushed across the bar. 
With King .^Sletes following her afar. 
And when at length the heroes Idd 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 gi'ey ro^s that o'ertop Cenclu-cte, 
Sent echoes of sweet singing o er the sea. 



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OF JASON. 271 

For tben the keel the maidena went about 
Singing the aongs of Orpheus, and the shout 
Of rough-Toiced sea-fiillc ended every song ; 
And then from stem to stern they hung along 
Garlands of flowers, and all the oars did twine 
With garlinds too, and cups of royal wine 
Cast o er her stem ; and at the stem a maid. 
Clad like to Jnno, on the tiller laid 
Her slender fingers, while anigh the stem 
Stood one witli wings and many-coloured hem 
About her raiment, like the messenger 
Who hears the high Gods' dreadful words witli her, 
And through the sea of old that st« u did load, 

Lo, in sueh wise they honoured that groat dueij. 
But Jason did they reverence as a God ; 
And though his kinsman bore the ivory rod 
And golden circlet, little could he do 
Unless the great Tbessalian willed it too. 

Yet therefore Creon nowise bore him hate. 
But reverencing the wise decrees of fate. 
Still honoured him the more ; and therewith tliought, 
" 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 ! " 
And on this thonght he brooded more and more, 
And 'gan to hate the Colehian very sore, 
And through the pbee, as lightly he might do, 
Ho 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 fuith and truth ; and as such oft w".l! come. 
When wise men speak them, to a ready hotne. 
So here they did ; though soothly for his part. 
He knew it not, nor yet his restless heart. 



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272 TIJE LIFE AND DEATH 

But on a day it fell that as tboy sat 
In Creon's poreh, and talked of this or that, 
The king said unto Jason : " Brave thou art, 
But hast thou never feat witliin 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 ; 
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 ; 
Let each man 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 ae this one loveth me t 
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. 
The elders without tears of vain regret. 
And, certes, had this worshipped head been set 
Upon some spike of King .^tes' 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 cruel foe. 
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 tio unmake 
Is her delight ; and certes for thy sake 
She did all this thou saycst, yea, and more ; 



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Seeing tbee dpath-doomed on a foriiigu uliore, 

Withliarly hpart but helpless ; a king's son, 

Bat w th thy tl il of life well-nigh outrun; 

Thoref re I ay she did all this for thee. 

And ever on the way to Thussaly 

Bade thee do this or that, since still ye were 

As void of helpful knowledge as of fear. 

All this she did, and ao was more than ijueen 

Of thee and thine ? but tliou -~ thine age is green, 

Nor wilt thou always dwell in this fedr t»wn. 

Nor through the wild wood hunt the quarry down — 

Bethink thee — of tbe world thou miyst bo king. 

Holding the life and death of overythin*, 

Nor will she love thee more, upon that day 

When oil her part will bo but to obey; 

Nor will it then be fitting unto thee 

To have a rival in thy soYereignty 

LMd in thy bed, and sitting at thy board." 

Now somewhat Jason reddened at that word, 
But siud : " Greoa, let the thing be so ! 
She shall be high the while that I am low, 
And as the Gtods in heaven rule over me, 
■ Since they are greater, in such wise shall she. 
Who as they gave me life, has given me life, 
And glorious end to seeming hopeless strife." 

Then Creon said : " Tea, somewhat good it were 
U tlioa couldst lead that Ufe, 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, loo fiill of hardihead ! 
then ease-loving, little-thinking man, 
Whate'er thou doest, dread the Colchian I 
She wiU unmake thee yet, as she has made, 
And in a bloody grave shalt thou be laid." 
Then turning, to his palace went the king, 



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274 TllK LIFE AND DEATH 

Uiit Jason, left alone and pondciing, 
Felt ill his heart a vague and gnawing fear, 
Of unknown troubles slowly drawing near. 
And, spite of words, the thing that Greon said 
Touched in his heart that still increasing dread, 
And he was moved by that grave elder's face, 
For love waa dying in that ten years' space. 

But Creon, Mtting in his chamber, thought, 
■' Surely I think my hero may he brought 
To change his mate, for in his heart I see 
He wearies of his gieat felicity. 
Like fools, for whom fair heaven is not enough, 
And 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 Oreon had 
As maketh wise men fools, and young men mad. 
Who yet in Corinth at this time was not. 
But dwelt afar upon a woody spot 
Anigh Cleonse ; 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. 
They came, well harhingered by thrushes' tune, 
And there straight fell to hunting of the boar; 
But, either through default of woodland lore. 
Or bidden by the king, huntsmen and all, 
The king's stout servants from the ehase did fall. 
And Jason with him soon was left alone. 
With that both saw that nigh the day was done, 
For 'midst the thick trees was it nigh twilight : 
Then Jason said : " Surely our bed to-night 
Will be beneath these creaking boughs and black." 



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" Nay," B!ud the king, " surely we shall not lack 
Sofl golden beds such as old men desire, 
Nor on the hearth the crackling of the fire, 
For herehy ia a little house of mine 
Where dwelb 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 Jaeon followed him ; and when the sun 
His burning course that day had well-nigh done, 
The king and Jason came aoigh the place 
Where stood the house upon a swarded space 
Amidst thick trees, that nedged it like a wall, 
Whose shadows now o'er half the place did tiill, 
While 'twixt th«r stems the low aun showed 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, wrought by the art divine, 
Of some dead man, before a well-wrought ahrino. 
The Goddess stood, carved out of purest gold. 
That her fair altar thence she might: behold ; 
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 lieeeh wood dense. 
The scent of lilies rose up in the nil. 
And store of pea-fiiwl was there roosting thero, 
Or moving laaly across the grass. 

But from the temple did the two kings pass 
Unto a marble house Ihat waa thereby. 
Not great indeed, but builded cunningly, 
And set about with carven images, 
Built in a close of slim young apple-trees ; 



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2^(| IHh LIfS AND DEATH 

A marble fountain was there nigh the door, 

And thisre the roatless, water trickled o'er 

A smooth-bewn ba^ia 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 ^and, and earth, and fliat, 

Edged all about with fragrant hlue-flowered mint, 

Or hidden by the flat-leaved quiyering sedge. 

But from the pool's smooth-wrought and outmost edg< 

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, secino; men near by. 
Caught up the brazen vessel hastily, 
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 u 
Unto her father and his guest did turn, 
While o'er his saddle-bow old Creon bent, 
Rejoicing in her beauty as she went ; 
And for one moment every scheme forgot, 
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. 
With raiment fluttering in the evening breeze. 
She seemed like Her, the crown of Goddesses, 
Who, o'er the dark sea, at the sunset came 
To be iu heaven a joy, on earth a flame. 



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Blushing, eho came to Creon's saUdle-bow, 
And kissed him, who said, smiling : " Fearest thou 
Thy father, grown the oldest of old men '! 
How wilt thou look upon this stranger then, 
Who is no God, though such he seems t* be, 
But Jason, leader of the Minyse ? " 
Somewhat she started at the glorious name, 
And o'er her fiico deeper the red flush came, 
As she, with upraised fiice and ahamefast eyes, 
Said : "Welcome, wiuner of the guarded prize ! 
Good hap it ia indeed that thou art come 
Unto my little-peopled woodland home. 
Come then, my lords, to what awaits you here ; 
Not spiced Mffiotic wine or dainty cheer 
Your lips shall taste, but of fair simple flowers 
Your drink shall savour, and your meat shall he 
Red-coated squiirels from the hoechen tree." 

Then fiun to hide her eyes and blushing face. 
She turned from them, and at a gentle pace 
Unto the jnllared porch she led the twain. 
There they, alighting, the dark house did gain, 
And there they ate and drank, making such clieer 
As fasting men will do ; and still anear 
Was Glauco to them, telling every maid 
How such and such a thing should be aiTayed ; 
And ever the Thessalian's eager ejfes 
Bid follow her, and to his heart did rise 
Tague feelings of a new-found happiness. 

But now as the round moon was growing less. 
And WBsing biightei', and of fitting food 
The kings had eaten as they thought it good, 
Then Creon said : " daughter, straightly take 
This full cup to the hero for my sake. 
And bid him drink thereof, and tell thee all 
That unto him at Mi did befall, 
And what fate did as still he journeyed home " 



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278 THE LIFE AXD I/KATU 

Tlicn uuto 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, 
Wlien certain-seeming death he did abide 
In King JEstes' hall ; and when she drew 
Anigh unto him, back the past years flew. 
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 hor look 
Sent fire through his veins ; jea, 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 : — 
" Jason, if it please thee, tell me all 
That unto thee at .^a did befall, 
And what thou sawedst as thou journeyedst home, 
And how it happed thee to thy land to eorae." 

But ever as she spake she gazed at him, 
And with now 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 kno 
fair king's daughter, all I have to show." 
And so the story of the Fleece began, 
And how fiiir 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 grown pal 
And parted lips, and whiles with 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. 
In his fair silken bed did Jason dream 
Of Argo stniggling with the unknown stroaiii. 



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And well-known faces long-time twd to rest. 

But when the night was passed, and the great sun 
Another day for all things had hegun, 
The kings, ariang, unto Corinth rode. 
But, ere they left the woodhnd fair abode. 
Unto the Goddess did they sacrifice. 
And on her altar, in snch woodland wise 
As huntsmen nee, 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 miniatring. 
Bat when they turned once more unto the town. 
The half-quenched censer t^d 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 
Did he behold before his waking eyes. 
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 threshold 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 fiioe and calm gi'ey eyes divine 
He road his own destruction ; none the less 
In his false heart fair Glance's loveliness 
Seemed that which he had bved his whole life long, 
And little did he feel his old love'e wrong. 

Alas for truth ! each day, yea, hour by hour, 
He longed once more to see the becchen bower. 



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28o THE LIFE AND DEATH 

And her who dwelt thereby. Alas, alas ! 

Oft from his lips the hated words would pass : — 

" wavering traitor, still unsatisfied ! 
O false hetrajer of the love so tried, 
Fool ! to east off the beauty that thou know'st, 
Clear-seeing wisdom, better than a host 
Against thy foes, and truth and constancy 
Tbou wilt not know again wliato'er shall he ! " 

So oft ho spoke words that wore words indeed, 
And had no sting, nor would his changed hoart hood 
The very bitterest of them all, as he 
Thought of his woodland fair divinity. 
And of her upturned lace, so woodering 
At this or that oft-told unheeded thing. 

Yet whiles, indeed, old memories had souie power 
Over bis heart, in sueb an awful hour 
As that, when darksome night is well-nigli done. 
And earth is waiting silent for the sun ; 
Then would he turn about his mate to see. 
From lips half open, breathing peacefully. 
And open, listless, the fiiir fingers laid, 
That unto him had brought suoh miglity aid. 
Then, groaning, from her would he turn away, 
And wish he might not see another day. 
For certainly his wretehed soul he knew, 
And of the cruel Uod his heart that drew. 
But when the bright day had come round again, 
With noise of men, came foolish thoughts and vain, 
And, feeding fond desire, would he bui'n 
Unto Cleonse his swift steps to turn. 

Nor to these matters was the Colchian blind ; 
And though as yet his speech to her was kind. 
Good heed she took of all his moody ways. 
And how he loved her not as in past days ; 
And how he shrunk from her, yet knew it not. 
She noted, and the stammering words and hot, 



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Wherewith, as she grew kinder, still he strove 
To hide from her the changing of bis love. 

Long time she tried to shut her eyes to this, 
Striving to save that fair abode of bliss ; 
But so it might not be; and day by day 
She saw the nappy time fade fast away ; 
And as she fell from out that happiness, 
Again she grew to be the sorceress, 
Worker of fearful things, aa 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 'i Art thou brought to nought 
By that whiuh erst, with wonders strangely wrought, 
Thou madest live through happy days and long ? 
]jo, 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 
That word aooomplished that I uttered then, 
Nor yet believed — that to all earthly men, 
In spito of right and wrong, and love and hate, 
One day shall come the turn of luekless 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? " 

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 bwed her shoulder sweet ; 
Once more that night over the Ungering fire 
She hung with sick heart famished with desire ; 
Once more she turned back when her work was done ; 



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282 THE LIFK AND DEATH 

Once moro she fled the coming of the sun ; 
Once more she reached her dusliy, glimmering room 
Once more she lighted up the d^iiig gloom ; 
Once moro she lay adown, 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 elept, but in a little while, 
Sighing, she rose, when now the sun was high, 
And, going to her wallet wearily. 
Took forth a phial thence, which she unstopped. 
And a small driblet therefrom slowly dropped 
Upon a shred of linen, which straightway 
In tbe sun's gleaming pathway did she lay ; 
But when 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 ; 
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 iiiirest and the beat 
Of all her raiment ; this she held, and said : — 
" Jason, thy love is fiur by likelihead, 
Pity it were to hide her over-much. 
And when this garment her fair limbs shall touch, 
So will it hide them as the water green 
ffid GitbeKea, when she first was seen." 

Soothly she spoke, because the web was fair 
And thin, and delicate beyond compare, 
And had been woven in no common loom. 
For she herself within her fair-hung room 
Had set tbe warp and watohed the fine weft glide 
Up from the roller, while from side to side, 
Scarce seen, tbe shuttle flew fium fingers thin 



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Of a dark Indian maid, whom gold did win 

Prom some Phcenician, that loved nought but gold . 

But sighing now the raiment to beliolJ, 
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. 
Tin it had drunk the moisture thoroughly ; 
VVhereon she took it forth and liud it by. 
Far from the sunlight, on her royal bed. 
Saying : " thou who hast the hardihead, 
Whoe er thou art, to take from me mine own, 
It had been good for thee that of smooth stone 
Thy limbs were wrought, nor made to suffer pain , 
If this mom's deed has not been quite in vain," 

So saying, did she mutter moodily. 
Watching the spread-out linen slowly dry ; 
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 fall 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 ; 
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 reproachfiil eyes ; 
Yet thinkmg of the chain of days and nights 
Stretched out all barren of once-hoped delights, 
A sorry thing life seemed to him U) he, 



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284 rUE LIFE AND DEATH 

And one path only fioin that misery 

Seemed open to him — where the fair girl stood, 

Within the shadow of the hccehen woo3. 

But while he wavered thus 'twist love and fear, 
And something of the old time grown too dear 
To cast off lightly, Ci'eon noted all, 
And surely bow had hope that should hefall 
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 mora, 
Jason at last, by many troubles torn, 
Mounted his horse, and toward Cleonce turned. 
But as with pate face, and a heart that burned 
To end alt 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, Jason ? By my head, 
Wilt thou not sit at our high feast to^ay 1 
What do'st thou then upon the stony way 
That leads to Argolis ? " 

" King," sdd he, 
" I am not meet for your solemnity, 
Because the Gods to-day have made me sad ; 
Nor Itnew I yet what feast here should bo had, 
But thought to-day to see my arrows fly 
Within the green glades of the woods hereby." 

" Nay," said the Iring ; " fiill surely many a day 
Of summer will there he to play this play, 
Bot on this day to Oitiersea's house 
Folk go, both maids and young men amorous ; 
Yea, eiders 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 , 
For on this day my daughter comes to me, 
That nigh Cleona) erewhile thou didst see, 



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And she too goes with flower-bearing hands 
To kiss the foot that on tlio tortoise stands." 

So saying, did his ancient wilj eyes 
Behold the blood to Jason's brow arise, 
And inwardly he laughed ; but Jason said : — 
" Yea, then, king, to chase my drearihead, 
Thb were a fair eight for mine eyes to see ; 
And since thou wiUest, I will go with thee." 

Then 'lighting from his horse, beside the king 
He stood, and talked of this or tliat light thing. 
And saw meanwhile full many a broad-wheeled wain. 
Filled with fdr flowers from the unshorn plain. 
Go toward the temple of the Cyprian queen. 
And youths and maidens, wreathed aboat with groon, 
Pass, singing carols through the listening street. 

At last the king said : " Oome, and let us meet 
This joyous band within the very fane." 
So forth they went, and soon the place did gain. 
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. 
Clad in thin ^Iken raiment red as blood, 
Who had by her a gilded basket light, 
Filled full of flowers woven for dehght, 
Wherefrom unto the passing kings they g^ive 
Wreaths bound with gold, that somewhat they might hav 
To offer to the dread divinity. 
Whose image, wrought of silver cunningly, 
Stood 'neath a canopy of gleaming gold 
Midmost the place, where damsels fair did hold 
Baskets of flowers, or swnng censers high ; 
Then to the precious shrine they drew anigh. 
And forth st<iod 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, 



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j86 the life axb death 

And hoping much, ho made not any prayer 
Unto the Goddess ; then amid the tair 
Slim pillars did he stand beside the king, 
Confused as in a dream, and wondering 
How all would end. But as they waited thus, 
Within that fragrant place and amorous, 
Languid grew Jason with the flowers' scent. 
And with the inoense-oloud that ever went 
Unto the half-seen golden roof above, 
Amongst whose glimmering the grey-wiaged dove 
Hung crooning o'er his wrongs ; moreover there 
The temple-damsels passed them, shy and fair, 
With whiW limbs shining through their thin attire, 
And amorous eyes, the hearts of men to fire, 
Beneath their heavy erowna of roses red ; 
And veiled sweet voices through the place did shed 
Strange fitfiil 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 hia soul, upon the air 
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 water rolled 
At their incoming, driven by the wind. 
And round the pillars of the place it twineil, 
Enwrapping Jason, so that ffunt and dim 
The fiiir show of the maidens was to him, 
As each upon the altar laid adown 
The flowers mingled with the golden erown, 
And prayed her prayer, then passed behind the shrine. 



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At last from 'midst that cloud did Venus shine 
Before the eyes of the Thussalian, 
Who, with fixed eyes, and lips grown thin and wan. 
Stared &t the image, little tliough he saw, 
But at her feet a sweet feee, grave with awe. 
Just bending over toward the silver feet. 
Which Glauce with a timid kiss did greet, 
And this being done, drew backward, munnuring 
Her prayer to Venus ; " Groddess, 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 fiico she raised, 
And met his hungry eyes that on her gazed. 
And stopped all ti'embling, letdng fall adown 
The hand that held the gold-enwoven crown. 

Yet little anrar Venus had therefor. 
But rather smiled to sec 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 loire, full many a prayer she prayed. 

And now was all that pageant well arrayed 
To pass about the t«mple, and her place 
Did Qlauce take with flushed and eager face ; 
But on her finger did she loose a ring. 
Which that same day the wise CorinSian king 
Had given her ; therewith she went along. 
Murmuring fiunt 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 desured lace ; 
And as the damsels at a gentle pace 
Went by him, and for fear of him and awe 
Shrunk Imck, and with their slender hands did draw 
Closer about them the thin fragrant weed. 



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288 THE I.JFK AND DEATH 

Still nought of all their beauty did he heed, 

But iuto Glauce's eyes appealingly 

Still gazed, who, trembling like some soow-trappcd d 

From her soft eyes sent forth one look of love, 

Then dropped tbe Uda, as, blind with love and shami 

Unto the place where stood the kings she eame. 

And there her hand that down beside her bung 

She raised a little, and her faltering tongue 

Just framed the words : " love, for thee, for thee 

And with that word she trembled piteonsly. 

In terror at tbe 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. 

]}ut Jaaon, when those fingers touched hia own, 
Forgat all joys thai he had ever known ; 
And when her hand left bis hand with the ring, 
Still in the palm, like some lost, stricken thing, 
He stood and stared, as from his eyes she passed. 
And irom 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 adown the wind he flung 
The love whereon his yearning heart once hung. 

Ah ! let me turn the page, nor chronicle 
In many words the death of faith, or tell 
Of meetings bj the newly-risen moon. 
Of passionate silence 'midst the brown birds' tune, 
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, 



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When day had passed all barren of lier sight 
And at the last, that Cwon, the old king, 
Being prayed with gifts, and joyful of the thing. 
Had ^ven a day when these twain should be wed. 

Meanwhile, the once-loved sharer of his bed 
Knew all at last, and fienje toimenting flre 
Consumed her as the dreadful day drew nigher, 
And much Irom other lips than his she heard, 
Till, on a day, this dreadful, blighting word. 
Her eyes beheld within a fiur 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 
Within these arms. Let Giods 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, 

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 conc^uest of all earthly things. 

" Lo, such an one, the vanquisher of kings. 
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 ean I give my whole heart up ta thee ? 

" I hear thee talk of old days thou didst know — 
Are they not gone '? — wilt thou not let them go. 
Nor to their shadows still cling desperately, 
Longing for things that never uiore can be ? 

" What ! wilt thou blame me slill that the times change? 
Once through the oak-wood happy did I range. 
And thought no ill ; but then came over me 
Madness, I know not why, and o'er the sea 

1 needs must go in strife to win me fame. 



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290 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

AdcI certos won it, and my envied name 

Was borne witli shouts about the towns 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 rin^ng in mine ears, 
Seard long ago in that place free from fears. 
Where no «ne wept above his follow 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 vet, for all thy words, canst thou love mo. 

" Yet, is the world so narrow for us twain 
That all our life henceforth must be but vain? 
Nay, for departing shalt thou be a queen 
Of some great world, fairer than I have seen, 
And wheresoe'er then goest shalt thou fare 
As one for whom the Gods have utmost care." 

Tea, she knew all, yet when these words she read. 
She felt as though upon her bowed-down head 
Had fiiUen a misery not known 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 
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. 
Then all at onoe 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. 



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or jAsoy. 

That m the philter lay that other morn. 
And therewithal unto her heart was borne 
The image of two lovers, dJe hy side. 

Then with a groan the fingers that did hide 
Her tortured face slowly she drew away. 
And going up to whore 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 
'Tmst the blue clashing rocks had never passed 
Unto the Colchian land ! Or would that I 
Had had such happy fortune as to die 
Then, when I saw thee standing by the Fleece, 
Safe on the long-desired shore cf Greece ! 
Alas, Jason f 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. 
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 
O'erflow in tears, when needs was we should psrt 
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 honeyed kiss 
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. 



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2<)2 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

" Yet of all times mayst thou remember one, 
The second time that ever thou and I 
Had met alone together — -mournfiilly 
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 banefdl light outstrearaed. 
Lighting the horror of that prodigy, 
The only fence betwixt whose wratii and thee 
Was this poor body. Ab ! thou knowest then 
How thou heheld'st the shadows of thy men 
St«al silently towards Argo's paint«d head. 
Thou knowest yet the whispered words I said 
Upon that night — thou never canst forget 
That happy night of all nights. Ah 1 and yet 
Why make I these long words, that thou the more 
Mayst hate me. who already hat'st me sore. 
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, down- 
east. 
And round about once more shouldst look for me, 
Who led thee o'er strange land and unknown sea. 

" And not in vain, dearest ! not in vain ! 
Would I not come and weep at all thy pdn. 
That I myself had vfrought ? would I not raise 
Thy burdened head with hopes of happy days ? 
Would I not draw thee forth from all thy woo 'i 
And fearless by thy side would I not go. 



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As once I went, tbrough many unknown lands, 
When I had saved tliee from my father's hands ? 

" All would I do, that I have done erewhile, 
To have thy love once more, and feel thy smile. 
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 ono last gift more from me. 
To ^ve thy new love, since raea say that she 
Is fairer than all things man can behold. 

" Within this casket lies in many a fold 
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 tbis fair tunic let her limbs be clad. 
But see that no sun £iUa upon its folds 
Until her hand the king, her father, holds. 
To greet thine eyes : then, when in godlike light 
She shines, with all her beauty 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 will alt be ended? If the dead 
Have unto them some little memory left 
Of things that while tlioy lived Pate from them reft, 
Ere life itself was reft from them at last, 
Yet would to God these days at least were past, 
And all be done that here must needs be done ! 



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294 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

" Ab ! shall I, living underneatli tlie sun, 
I wonder, wish for anything again, 
Or ever know what pleasure means, and paiu ? — 
— And for these deeds I do ; and thou the first, 
woman, whose young heauty has so cursed 
My hapless life, at least I save thee this — 
The slow descent to misery from hliss, 
With bitter torment growing day hy day, 
And faint hope lessening till it fades away 
Into dull waiting for the coming hlow. 
]!ut thou, who nought of coming fate dost know 
One OTCrwhelming 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. 
In one hour knows more grief than thou canst know 
And many a one there is who fain would go 
And try their fortune in the unknown life 
If thoy could win some ending to this strife. 
Unlooked-for, sudden, as thine end shall be. 
Kindly I deal with thee, mine enemy ; 
Since swift forgetfulness to thee I send. 
But tbou shalt die — his eyes shall see thine end — 
Ah ! if thy death alone could end it ail ! 

"But ye — shall I behold you when leaves fall. 
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 soda. 
And hear a voice say, " Mother, wilt thou come 
And see us resting in our new-made home. 



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Since thou wert used to make ua lie full soft, 

Smoothing our pUlowa many a timo and oft ? 

mother, now no dainty food we need, 

Whereof of old thou usedst to havo such heed. 

mother, now we need no gown of gold. 

Nor in the winter time do we grow cold ; 

Thy hands would bathe ua when we were thine own, 

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 ua all its lore.' 

Ah ! day hy day 
Would I have hearkened all the folk would say. 
Ah ! in the sweet beginning of your days 
Would I have garnered every word of pi-aise : 
' What fearless backers of the untamed steed, 
What matchless spears, what loyal friends at need, 
What noble hearts, how bountiful and free, 
How like their father on the troublous sea ! ' 

" sons, with what sweet counsels and what tears 
WouU I have hearkened to the hopes and fears 
Of your fii-st loves 1 what rapture had it been 
Your dear returning footsteps to have seen 
Amidst the happy warriors of the land ! 
Bat 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 ; 
Praise to the ftods ! ye know not how to corse. 
" But when in some dim land we meet again. 
Will ye remember all the loss and pain"? 
Will ye the form of children keep for aye 
With thoughts of men? and ' Mother,' will ye say, 
' \Vhy didst thou slay us ore we came to know 
That men die ? hadst thou waited until now, 
An easy thing it had been then to die, 



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2()6 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

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. 
But for your mother ! — nay, for thee, for thee, 
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 happy fools still blesy." 

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, 
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 
Within that chamber, with her heavy head 
Laid on her arms, and gearco more than the dead 
She moved, for many hours, till at last 
A stupor over her some kind God cast, 
So that she slept, and had forgetfiilnees 
A little while &om fiiry and distr^s. 

But Jason, when he read that bitter word. 
Was sore ashamed, and in his ears he heard 
Words than men durst not speak before his face ; 
Therewith, for veiy shame, that silver ease 
And what it held be 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 thoo staudest in the hall. 
Then unto thee shall all good things befall." 

So to his rest he went, but, sooth to say. 
He slept but Uttle till the dawn of day, 
So troul'led was his mind with many a thing, 



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OF JASOjV. 2( 

And in Ha ears long-spoken words did ring : 
'■ Good speed, traitor ! who shall think to wed 
Soft limbs and white, and find thy royal bed 
Dripping with Wood and burning up with fire." 

So there, 'twist fear and shame and strong deare, 
Sleepless he lay until the day began — 
The conqueror, the king, the envied man. 

But on the ehamber where sweet (Jlauoe lay. 
Fair broke the dawning of that dreadful day, 
And fairer from her bed did she arise. 
And looking down with shamefast timid eyes. 
Beheld the bosom that no man had seen, 
And round limbs worthy of the Sea-bom Queen. 
With that she murmured words of joy and love. 
No louder than the grey, pink-footed dove, 
When at the dawn he iirst begins his tale, 
Not knowing if he means a song or w^l. 

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. 
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 JasoB and his friends would bear her thence 
WitK gentle rape and tender violence. 
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 ill gay weed, rejoicing for that day. 



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29^ THE LIFE AND DEATH 

Since that their lords had hidden them rejoice. 
And in the streets wiis many a jocund voice, 
That carolled to the honour of the twain 
Who on that day such hlissful life should gain. 

But Jason set out ivota his pillared house. 
Clad in rich raiment, fair and amorous, 
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 Oreon'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 tho pathway of the trayelling sun. 
As toward the west be turned, and now at last 
Upon the dais were his hot rays cast, 
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. 
Slaking a ring 'gainst that sweet violence, 
That soon should bear their lovely mistress thence. 
While G-laucB, 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 arras about her steal. 

Bleanwhilc, her lover through the court had passed, 
And at the open door he stood at last. 
Amidst his iiiends, and, looking thence, he raw 
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 nest the hall 
Was filled with darting flames from wall to wall. 



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And bitter screams rang out as Lere and there, 
Scorched, and with outspread arms the damsels fuir 
Eushed through the hall, bat swiflly Jason ran, 
Grown in one moment like an old worn man, 
Vp to the dais, whence one bitter cry 
He heard, of one in utmost agony, 
Callmg upon his once so helpful name ; 
But when unto the fiery place he came. 
Nought saw he hut the flickering tongues of fire 
That up the wall were climbing high and higher; 
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 Glance, mingling with her name 
The name of her that brought him unto fame, 
Colchian Medea, who, for her rcwai-d, 
Had lonely life made terrible and hard. 
By love cast back, within her heart to grow 
To madness and the vengeance wrought out now ; 
But aa about the burning place he ran, 
Full many a maid he met and pale-faced man, 
Wild wiUi their terror, knowing not what end 
That which their eyes had seen might yet portend : 
But these shrunk backward from his brandished sword. 
And open-shouting mouth, and frenzied word. 
As still from chamber unto chamber fair 
He rushed, scarce knowing what he sought for there, 
Nor where he went, till his unresting feet 
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 
From every window out into the air, 
With strange light making pale that noontide fair. 



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300 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

But they, bewildered sore, and timorous. 
Gazed helplessly upon tlie burning house, 
And dreaded yet some hidden enemy, 
Thinking indeed a dreadful God to see, 
Bearing a fresh destruction in his hand. 

But now, when Jason with his glittering brand 
Broke in upon them from the growing fire, 
With wild pale fece, and half-hurnt rich attire, 
Thoy fell back shuddering as his fe.ce thej knew, 
Changed though it was, and soon a murmur grew : 
" Death to the sorceress, the Colchian ! " 
But he, unheeding still, from 'midst them ran, 
Until unto his own fair house ho eanie. 
Where gazed his folk upon the fiir-off fiame. 
And muttered low for fear and wofulneas. 

Then he know not his own, but none the less 
Into the court ho pa^ed, and his bright aword 
Cast down and said ; " What feeble, timid lord 
Hides here when all the world is on a blane, 
And laughing, from theu- heaven the high Gods gaz 
At foolish men shut in the burning place ? " 
With that he turned about his haggard lace. 
And stared upon his own fair- sculptured frieze, 
Carved into likeness of the tumbling seas, 
And Argo, and the heroes he had led, 
And fair Medea. Then he cried, and said : — 
" Lo, how the Gods are mocking me with this, 
And show me pictures of my vanished bliss. 
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 forgot the pain 
My life is passed in now? 

And with that word 
Ho east his eyes upon his glittering sword, 
And caught it up and set it to his breast. 



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OF JASON. 301 

And in one moment bad he been at rest 
From all his troubles, when a woman old, 
His nurse in past times, did tbe deed behold. 
And ran and caugbt the hero's mighty hand, 
And banging ronnd 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 tbo very sun looks black, 
And wholesome air the whole world seems to lack, 
Yet sbalt thou yet have wealth of happy days, 
And wcll-fLilfillod desires, and all men s praise, 
Unless the Gods have quite forgotten thee. 
Jason ! my child ! come now with me, 
That I may give thee sweet forgetfiilness 
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 wcro in that old day. 
Ere in the Centaur's woodland cave he lay. 
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 searc&tnown 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 tbou art young, 
Nor on one string are all life's jewels strung ; 
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.' 

He heard her words, 
But as the far-off murmur of the birds 
Tl\e townsman hears ere yet the morn is late, 
While streets are void and shut is every gate ; 



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302 THE LIFH AND DEATH 

But still thej soothed him, and he fell asleep, 
While at his feet good watoh the crone did keep. 

But what a waking untu him shall be ! 
And what a load of shameful misery 
His life shall hear ! His old love cast awaj, 
His new love dead upon that fearful day, 
Childless, dishonoured, must his days go by. 
For in another chamber did there lie 
Two little helpless bodies side by side, 
Smiling as though in sweet sleep they had died. 
And feared no iU. And she who thus bad slain 
Tbose fruits of love, the folk saw not again. 
Nor knew where she was gone; yet she died not, 
But fleeing, somehow, from that fatal spot, 
She came to Athens, and tliere long did dwell. 
Whose after-life I list not here t* teU. 

Bat as for Jason, — Creon now being skin, 
And Corinth kingless, every man was fain, 
Kemembering Jason's wisdom and sharp sword. 
To have the hero for their king and lord. 
So on his weary brows they set the erown. 
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 CenehreEe, 
Lay Argo, looking o'er the ridgy sea, 
Being Sn 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. 



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OF JASOJf. 

But when he reached the well-remembered keel, 
The aun was far upon his downward way, 
At afternoon of a, bright summer day. 
Hot was it, and, still o'er the long rank grass, 
Beneath the hull, a widening shade did pass ; 
And farther off, the sunny daisied sward. 
The raised oars with their creeping shadows tarred ; 
And grey shade from the hills of Cenchreas 
Began to move toward the heaving sea. 
So Jason, lying in the shadow dark 
Cast by the sMmu, the wiirhle of the lark, 
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 by no oar, 
And on the yellow edges of the shore 
The ripple fell in murmur soft and low, 
As with wide«weeping wings the gulls did go 
About the breakers crying plaintively. 

But Jason, looking out across the sea, 
Belield 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 ^a they had won, 
And longings that had long been gathering 
StiiTed 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 
That drave me forth unto the white-walled town. 
Leaving the sunny slopes, and thiek-leavod crown 
Of grey old Pelion, that alone I knew, 
(Jreat deeds and wild, and desperate things to do. 



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304 THE LIFE AND DEATH 

" Ah tbe strange lifo of happiness and woe 
That I have led, since my young feet did go 
From that grey, peaceful, much-heloved abode ! 
But now, indeed, will I cast off the load 
Of memory of vmh hopes that came to nought. 
Of rapturous Joys with biting sorrows bought. 
The past is past, thougli I cannot forget 
Those days, with long lifo Imd 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 f^r love, that loved me alone. 
And made me that I am in all men's eyes ; 
And like my hard-«arned kingdom, mj fair prize, 
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 — yet is that as a di-eam. 
And still my life a happy life I deem ; 
But ah ! so short, so short ! for I am left 
Of love, of honour, and of joy berets — 
And yet not dead — ah ! if I could but see 
But once again her who delivered me 
From death and many troubles, then no more 
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 
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 
Tiie blue Symplegadea, still deeds may do. 
For now the world has swerved from truth and right. 
Cumbered with monsters, empty of delight, 
And, 'midst ali this, what honour I may win, 



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OF JASON. i 

That slie may know of and rojoiM therein, 

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 

To hear once more that once-beloved voice 

Rise through the burden of dull words, well-known ! 

How should I clasp again my love, mine own. 

And set the crown upon hor golden head. 

And with the eyes of lovers newly wed, 

How should we gaae each upon each again ! 

" hope not vain ! surely not quite vain I 
For with die next returning light will I 
Cast off my moody sorrow utterly. 
And onoe 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 tjio Gold Fleec« I won. 
Still, here, some wild hull clears the frightened fields, 
There a gi'eat lion cleaves the sevenfold shields, 
There dwells some giant rohber 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 fair-walled town, 
Now gathers folk, since there are coming down 
The Welded women of the Asian plain. 
Myriads past counting, in the hope to gain 
The mastery of this lovely land of Greece? 
So be it, surely shall I snatch feir peace 
From out the hand of war, and calm delight 
From the tumultuous horror of the fight. ' 

So saying, gaang 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, 



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