J 
 
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON. 
 
THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 OF 
 
 A POEM 
 
 BY WILLIAM MORRIS 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS 
 1867 
 
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 JASON, tlie son of JEson, king of lolchos, having come to man s 
 estate, demanded of Pelias his father s kingdom, which he held 
 wrongfully. But Pelias answered, that if he would bring from 
 Colchis the golden fleece of the ram that had carried Phryxus 
 thither, he would yield him his right. Whereon Jason sailed to 
 Colchis in the ship Argo, with other heroes, and hy means ol 
 Medea, the king s daughter, won the fleece ; and carried off also 
 Medea ; and so, after many troubles, came back to lolchos again. 
 There, by Medea s wiles, was Pelias slain ; but Jason went to 
 Corinth, and lived with Medea happily, till he was taken with the 
 love of Glauce, the king s daughter of Corinth, and must needs 
 wed her; whom also Medea destroyed, and fled to JEgeus at 
 Athens ; and not long after Jason died strangely. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 IN Thessaly, beside the tumbling sea, 
 Once dwelt a folk men called the Minyse ; 
 For, coming from Orchomenus the old, 
 Bearing their wives and children, beasts and gold, 
 Through many a league of land they took their way, 
 And stopped at last, where in a sunny bay 
 The green Anaurus cleaves the white sea-sand, 
 And eastward inland doth Mount Pelion stand, 
 Where bears and wolves the centaur s arrows find ; 
 And southward is a gentle sea and kind, 
 Nigh landlocked, peopled with all kinds of fish, 
 And the good land yields all that man can wish. 
 
 t 76. 
 
6 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 So there they built lolchos, that each day 
 Grew great, until all these were passed away, 
 With many another, and Cretheus the king 
 Had died, and left his crown and everything 
 To ./Eson, his own son by fair Tyro ; 
 Whom, in unhappy days and long ago, 
 A God had loved, whose son was Pelias. 
 
 And so, within a while, it came to pass 
 This Pelias being covetous and strong 
 And full of wiles, and deeming nought was wrong 
 That wrought him good, thrust ^Eson from his throne, 
 And over all the Minyse reigned alone ; 
 While JEson, like a poor and feeble lord, 
 Dwelt in lolchos still, nor was his word 
 Regarded much by any man therein, 
 Nor did men labour much his praise to win. 
 
 Now mid all this a fair young son he had ; 
 And when his state thus fell from good to bad 
 He thought, Though Pelias leave me now alone, 
 Yet he may wish to make quite sure his throne 
 By 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 terrors of a king, 
 That blood alone can deaden. 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 ./Eson gave him ; then would come to him 
 A Centaur, grave of face and large of limb, 
 Before whom lie should fall upon his knees. 
 And, holding forth the child, say words like these : 
 
 " my lord Cheiron, JEson sends me here 
 
OF JASON. ; 
 
 To say, if ever you have bold him dear, 
 
 Take now this child, his son, and rear him up 
 
 Till we have fully drained 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 be but a slave, 
 
 Since now from fear his tender years you save ; " 
 
 " And then," quoth .ZEson, " all these words being said, 
 
 Hold out this ring, set with a ruby red, 
 
 Adorned with dainty little images, 
 
 And this same horn, whereon, twixt carven trees, 
 
 Diana follows up the flying hart ; 
 
 They shall be signs of truth upon your part. 
 
 Then leave the child with him, and corne to me, 
 
 Minding what words the Centaur saith to thee ; 
 
 Of whom thou needest have no whit of fear ; 
 
 And, ere thou goest, bring me the child 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 ^Eson, when he saw the sturdy boy, 
 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 bow, the wood-knife at the side, 
 
THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 The garments of the spotted leopard s hide, 
 
 The bed of bear-skin in the hollow hill, 
 
 The bath within the pool of some green rill ; 
 
 There shall the quick-eyed centaurs be thy friends, 
 
 Unto whose hearts such wisdom great Jove sends 
 
 They know the past and future, and fear nought 
 
 That by 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, 
 
 But like the golden age shall all things be ; 
 
 And when upon thee falls the fated day, 
 
 Fearless and painless shalt 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 the horn and ring, 
 Fit for the belt and finger of a king, 
 Did ^Eson give, and therewith kissed the boy, 
 Who with his black beard played, and laughed for joy 
 To see the war-horse in the red torch-light. 
 Then, being mounted, forth into the night 
 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 
 
OF JASON. 
 
 The slave bore in his arms, until they carne 
 Unto the place where, living free from blame, 
 Cheiron the old roamed through the oaken wood ; 
 There by a flowering thorn-bush the slave stood, 
 And set the little Jason on the ground ; 
 Who, waking from sweet sleep, looked all around 
 And gan to prattle ; but his guardian drew 
 The horn from off his neck, and thereon blew 
 A point of hunting known to two or three, 
 That sounded through the forest merrily, 
 Then waited listening. 
 
 And meantime the sun, 
 Come from Euboean 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 fear 
 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 Daedalus of old. 
 
 But louder still the noise he hearkened grew, 
 Until at last in sight the Centaur drew, 
 A mighty grey horse, trotting down the glade, 
 Over whose back the long grey locks were laid, 
 That from his reverend head abroad did flow ; 
 For to the waist was man, but all below 
 A mighty horse, once roan, now well-nigh white 
 With lapse of years ; with oak-wreaths was he dight 
 Where man joined unto horse, and on his head 
 He wore a gold crown, set with rubies red, 
 And in his hand he bare a mighty bow, 
 No man could bend of those that battle now. 
 
 So, when he saw him coming through the trees, 
 The trembling slave sunk down upon his knees 
 And put the child before him ; but Cheiron, 
 
io THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Who knew all things, cried : " Man with .ZEson s son, 
 
 Thou necdest not to tell me who thou art, 
 
 Nor will I fail to do to him my part : 
 
 A vain thing were it, truly, if I strove, 
 
 Such as I am, against the will of Jove. 
 
 Lo now, this youngling, set twixt thee and me, 
 
 In days to come a mighty man shall be, 
 
 Well-riigh the mightiest of all those that dwell 
 
 Between Olym-pus and Malea ; and well 
 
 Shall Juno love him till he come to die. 
 
 "Now get thee to thy master presently, 
 But leave with me the red ring and the horn, 
 That folk may know of whom this boy was born 
 In days to come, when he shall leave this wild : 
 And lay between my arms the noble child." 
 
 So the slave joyful, but still half afraid, 
 Within the mighty arms young Jason laid, 
 And gave up both the horn and the red ring 
 Unto the Centaur, who the horn did sling 
 About him ; on his finger, with a smile, 
 Setting the ring ; and in a little while 
 The slave departing, reached the open plain, 
 And straight he mounted on his horse again, 
 And rode on toward 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 Cheiron said, llight glad was ^Eson then 
 That from his loins a great man among men 
 S- ould thus have sprung; and so he passed his days 
 Full quietly, remote from fear or praise. 
 
 And now was Pelias mindful of the day 
 When from the altar s horns he drew away 
 Sidero s cruel hands, while Neleus smote 
 The golden-hilted sword into her throat, 
 
OF JASOX. II 
 
 And without fire, or barley-cake, or cup, 
 No pleasing victim, she was offered up 
 In Juno s temple ; so he feared that he, 
 Though sprung from him who rules the restless sea, 
 Should meet an evil fate at Juno s hands : 
 Therefore he sent for men from many lands ; 
 Marble and wood, and gold and brass enow ; 
 And day by day, with many a sounding blow, 
 The masons wrought, until at last was reared 
 A temple to the Goddess that he feared ; 
 A wonder among temples, for the stone 
 That made it, and the gold that therein shone. 
 And in the midst her image Pelias set, 
 Wrought cunningly of purest gold, which yet 
 Had served him better in his treasury, 
 So little store the Goddess set thereby. 
 
 Moreover to Dodona, where the doves 
 Amid the oak-trees murmur of their loves, 
 He sent a messenger to know his fate ; 
 Who, up the temple steps, beneath the weight 
 Of precious things went bending ; and being come 
 Back from the north to his Thessalian home, 
 Gave forth this answer to the doubtful king : 
 
 " Pelias, fearful of so many a thing, 
 Sit merry o er thy wine, sleep safe and soft 
 Within thy golden bed ; for surely oft 
 The snows shall fall before the half-shod man 
 Can come upon thee through the water wan." 
 
 So at this word the king along the shore 
 Built many a tower, and 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, 
 
12 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 For at the foot of Pelion grew his bane 
 
 In strength anf l comeliness from day to clay, 
 
 And swiftly passed his childish years away : 
 
 Unto whom Cheiron taught the worthy lore 
 
 Of elders who the wide world filled before ; 
 
 And how to forge his iron arrow-heads, 
 
 And how to find within the marshy steads 
 
 The stoutest reeds, and from some slain bird s wing 
 
 To feather them, and make a deadly thing ; 
 
 And through the woods he took him, nor would spare 
 
 To show him how the just-awakened 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 bay, 
 
 Or smote the boar at hottest of the day. 
 
 Now was his dwelling-place a fair-hewn cave, 
 Facing the south : thereto the herdsmen drave 
 Full 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 unny lawns, high feast with them, 
 And garland all about the ancient stern 
 Of some great tree, and there do sacrifice 
 Unto the Gods, and with grave words and wise 
 Tell them sweet tales of elders passed away : 
 But for some wished thing every man would pray 
 Or ever in their hands the steel did shine, 
 And or the sun lit up the bubbling wine ; 
 Then would they fall to meat, nor would they leave 
 Their joyances, until the dewy eve 
 Had given good heart unto the nightingale 
 To tell the sleepy wood-nymphs all his tale. 
 
 Moreover, Chieron taught him how to cast 
 
OF JASON. 13 
 
 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 borne. 
 
 But in the night-time once did Jason wake, 
 And seem to see the moonlit branches shake 
 With huge, unwonted clamour of the chase ; 
 Then up he sprung, but ere he went one pace 
 Unto the cave s mouth, Cheiron raised his arm 
 And drew him back, and said: " Surely, no charm 
 Thou hast, my son, against Diana s sight, 
 Who over Pelion goes abroad this night ; 
 Now let those go to her that she doth call, 
 Because no fenced town, brazen gate or wall, 
 No coat of mail, or seven-folded shield, 
 Can guard thee from the wound that ne er is healed, 
 When she is angry. Sleep again, my son, 
 Nor wish to spoil great deeds not yet begun." 
 
 Then Jason lay and trembled, while the sound 
 Grew louder through the moonlit woods around, 
 And died off slowly, going toward the sea, 
 Leaving the fern-owl wailing mournfully. 
 
 Thereafter wandering lonely did he meet 
 A maid, with girt-up gown and sandalled feet, 
 Who joyously through flowering grass did go, 
 Holding within her hand an unstrung bow ; 
 And, setting eyes on her, he thought, indeed, 
 This must be she that made Acteeon 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 
 
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, " Who art thou, 
 
 Who seemest fitter from some galley s prow 
 
 To lead the heroes on the merchant-town, 
 
 Than through the wilds to hunt the poor beasts down, 
 
 Or underneath the canopy to sit, 
 
 Than by the beech to watch the cushat flit ? 
 
 Speak out and fear not." 
 
 "0, my queen ! " said he, 
 " Fair Goddess, as thou seemest well to be, 
 Give me good days and peace, and fair 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 Cheirou in the hollow mountain-side, 
 Wishful for happy days, whate er betide." 
 
 " Jason," she said, " all folk shall know thy naino, 
 For verily the Gods shall give thee fame, 
 Whatever they keep back from thee : behold ! 
 Restless thou shalt be, as thou now art bold, 
 And cunning, as thou now art skilled to watch 
 The crafty bear, and in the toils to catch 
 The grey-maned yellow lion ; and now see 
 Thou doest my commands, for certainly 
 I am no mortal ; so to Cheiron tell ; 
 No longer is it fitting thou shouldst dwell 
 Here in the wilds, but in a day or two, 
 Clad in Magnesian garments, shalt thou go 
 Unto 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. 
 
OF JASON. 15 
 
 And say to him, I bid him do this thing, 
 By this same token, that the silver ring 
 Upon my altar, with Sidero s blood 
 Is spotted still, and that the half-charred wood 
 My priests had lighted early on that day, 
 Yet lies thereon, by no flame burnt away." 
 Then Jason fell a-trembling, and to him 
 The tall green stems grew wavering and dim ; 
 And when a fresh gust of the morning breeze 
 Came murmuring along the forest trees, 
 And woke him as from dreaming, all alone 
 He stood, and with no farewell she was gone, 
 Leaving no traces of her dainty feet. 
 
 But through the leaves ambrosial odours sweet 
 Yet floated as he turned to leave the place, 
 And with slow steps, and thinking on his case, 
 Went back to Cheiron, whom he found laid there, 
 Half sleeping on the thymv herbage fair, 
 To whom he told the things that he had-heard, 
 With flushed and eager face, for they had stirred 
 New thoughts within him of the days to come, 
 So that he longed to leave his woodland home. 
 
 Then 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 friend, 
 Because the lovely huntress thou didst see 
 Late in the greenwood certainly was she 
 Who sits in heaven beside almighty Jove, 
 And noble things they do that have her love. 
 
 " Now, son, to-day I rede thee not to go, 
 Nor yet to-morrow, for clouds great and slow 
 Are gathering round the hill-tops, and I think 
 The thirsty fields full many a draught will drink ; 
 Therefore to-day our cups shall not be dry, 
 But we will sit together, thou and I, 
 
1 6 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And tales of thy forefathers shalt thou hear, 
 And many another, till the heavens clear." 
 
 So was it as the Centaur said ; for goon 
 The woods grew dark, as though they knew no noon ; 
 The thunder growled about the high brown hills, 
 And the thin, wasted, shining summer rills 
 Grew joyful with the coming of the rain, 
 And doubtfully was shifting every vane 
 On the town spires, with changing gusts of wind ; 
 Till came the storm-blast, furious and blind, 
 Twixt gorges of the mountains, and drove back 
 The light sea breeze ; 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 from Olympus ; while the sea 
 Seemed mingled with the low clouds and the rain : 
 And one might think that never now again 
 The sunny grass would make a pleasant bed 
 For tired limbs, and dreamy, languid head 
 Of sandalled nymph, forewearied 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-cups idle ; till at last 
 Desire of sleep over their bodies passed, 
 And in their dreamless rest the wind in vain 
 Howled round about, with washing of the rain. 
 
OF JASON. I? 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 SO there they lay until the second dawn 
 Broke fair and fresh o er glittering glade and lawn ; 
 Then Jason rose, and did on him a fair 
 Blue woollen tunic, such as folk do wear 
 On the Magnesian cliffs, and at his thigh 
 An iron-hilted sword hung carefully ; 
 And on his head he had a russet hood ; 
 And in his hand two spears of cornel-wood, 
 Well steeled and bound with brazen bands he shook. 
 
 Then from the Centaur s hands at last he took 
 The tokens of his birth, the ring and horn, 
 And so stept forth into the sunny morn, 
 And bade farewell to Cheiron, 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 then slept 
 Within a homestead that a poor man kept ; 
 And rose again at dawn, and slept that night 
 Nigh the Anaurus, and at morrow s light 
 Rose up and went unto the river s brim ; 
 /"But fearful seemed the passage unto him, 
 For swift and yellow drave the stream adown 
 Twixt crumbling banks ; and tree-trunks rough and brown 
 Whirled in the bubbling eddies here and there ; 
 So swollen was the stream a maid might dare 
 To cross, in fair days, with unwetted knee^J 
 
 Then Jason with his spear-shaft carefully 
 Sounded the depth, nor any bottom found ; 
 And wistfully he cast his eyes around 
 To see if help was nigh, and heard a voice 
 Behind him, calling out, " Fair youth, rejoice 
 
1 8 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 That I am here to help, or certainly 
 
 Long time a dweller hereby shouldst thou be." 
 
 Then Jason turned round quickly, and beheld 
 A woman, bent with burdens and with eld, 
 Grey and broad shouldered ; so he laughed, and said : 
 " mother, wilt thou help me ? by my head, 
 More help than thine I need upon this day." 
 
 " son," she said, " needs must thou on thy way ; 
 And is there any of the giants here 
 To bear thee through this water without fear ? 
 Take, then, the help a God has sent to thee, 
 For in mine arms a small thing shalt thou be." 
 
 So Jason laughed no more, because a frown 
 Gathered upon her brow, as she cast down 
 Her burden to the earth and came a-nigh, 
 And raised him in her long arms easily, 
 And stept adown into the water cold. 
 
 There with one arm the hero did she hold, 
 And with the other thrust the whirling trees 
 Away from them ; and laughing, and with ease 
 Went through the yellow foaming stream, and came 
 Unto the other bank ; and little shame 
 Had Jason that a woman carried him, 
 For no man, howsoever strong of limb, 
 Had dared across the swollen stream to go, 
 But if he wished the Stygian stream to know ; 
 Therefore he doubted not, that with some God 
 Or reverend Goddess that rough way he trod. 
 
 So when she had clomb up the slippery bank 
 And let him go, well-nigh adown he sank, 
 For he was dizzy with the washing stream, 
 And with that passage mazed as with a dream. 
 
 But, turning round about unto the crone, 
 He saw not her, but a most glorious one, 
 A lady clad in blue, all glistering 
 With something more than gold, crowned like the king 
 
OF JASON. 19 
 
 Of all the world, and holding in her hand 
 A jewelled rod. So when he saw her stand 
 With unsoiled feet scarce touching the wet way, 
 He trembled sore, but therewith heard her say : 
 
 " Jason, such as I have been to thee 
 Upon this day, such ever will I be ; 
 And I am Juno; therefore doubt thou not 
 A mighty helper henceforth thou hast got 
 Against the swords and bitter tongues of men, 
 For surely mayst thou lean upon me, when 
 The turbulent and little-reasoning throng 
 Press hard upon thee, or a king with wrong 
 Would fain undo thee, as thou leandst just now 
 Within the yellow stream : so from no blow 
 Hold back 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 hadst gained speech, 
 And whilst thou wanderedst beneath oak and beech 
 Unthinking. And, behold ! so have I wrought, 
 That with thy coming shall a sign be brought 
 Unto him ; for the latchet of thy shoe 
 Rushing Anaurus late I bade undo, 
 Which now is carried swiftly to the sea. 
 
 So Pelias, this day setting eyes on thee, 
 Shall not forget the shameful trickling blood 
 Adown my altar-steps, or in my wood 
 The screaming peacocks scared by other screams, 
 Nor yet to-night shall he dream happy dreams. 
 
 Farewell, then, and be 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-smelling, colored like a rosy flame, 
 
20 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 That wrapt the Goddess from him ; who, indeed, 
 Went to lolchos, and there sowed the seed 
 Of bitter change, that ruins kings of men ; 
 For, like an elder of threescore and ten, 
 Throughout the town she went, and, as such do, 
 Ever she blessed 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 market-place 
 About the king was many a doubtful face. 
 
 Now Jason, by Anaurus left alone, 
 Found that, indeed, his righjrfoot shoe was gone, 
 But, as the Goddess bade him, 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 foot bare, 
 And iron-hilted sword, and uncouth weed : 
 But of no man did he take any heed, 
 But came into 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 than any by a head, 
 Great limbed, broad shouldered, mightier than all, 
 But soft of speech, though unto him did fall 
 Full many a scorn upon that day to get. 
 
 So in a while he came where there was set 
 Pelias, the king, judging the people there ; 
 In scarlet was he clad, 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, 
 
OF JASON. 21 
 
 And his hand fell upon his swordless belt ; 
 
 But when the hero strode up to the throne, 
 
 And set his unshod foot 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 brass-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 remembered in his face. 
 
 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 shame 
 And wrong the king had wrought, and ^Eson s name, 
 Forgotten long, was bandied all about, 
 And silent 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 ^Etolian 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 there. 
 And see the sunbeams strike on brass and steel. 
 But therewithal, though new fear did he feel, 
 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 beardest thus a king with little fear ? " 
 
 " Pelias," he said, " I will not call 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, 
 
 3* 
 
22 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Have raised me, Jason, up to do this thing, 
 
 His son, and son of fair Alcimide ; 
 
 Yet now, since Tyro s blood twixt thee and me 
 
 Still runs, and thou my father s brother art, 
 
 In no wise would I hurt thee, for my part, 
 
 If thou wilt render to us but our own, 
 
 And still shalt thou stand nigh my father s throne." 
 
 Then all the people, when aright they knew 
 That this was bison 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 thou comest unto me, 
 My nephew Jason ; fain would I lay down 
 This 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 short while still, 
 That everything in order I may set, 
 Nor any man thereby may trouble get. 
 And now I bid thee stand by me to-day, 
 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 ^Eson came, 
 E en as he spoke ; for to his cars the fame 
 Of Jason s coming thither had been brought ; 
 Wherefore, with eager eyes his son he sought ; 
 But, seeing the mighty hero great of limb, 
 Stopped short, with eyes set wistfully on him, 
 While a false honied speech the king began : 
 
 " Hail, brother ^Eson, hail, O happy man ! 
 To-day thou winnest back a noble son, 
 
OF JASON. 23 
 
 Whose glorious deeds this hour sees begun, 
 And from my hands thou winnest back the crown 
 Of this revered and many-peopled town ; 
 So let me win from 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 ? 
 Behold the tokens Cheiron gave to me 
 When first he said that I was sprung from thee." 
 
 Then little of those signs did J&son 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 his 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 folk did seem, 
 As on that sight at las. 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 raiment 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 king 
 Who will not fear him ; nor shall anything 
 Be strong against him ; therefore certainly 
 Full seldom will he ride afield with me, 
 Nor will he long bear at his father s board 
 
 
 
24 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 To sit, well-known of all, but with his sword 
 
 Will rather burst asunder banded throngs 
 
 Of evil men, and heal some great king s wrongs. 
 
 And as for thee, Pelias, as I may, 
 Will I be friend to thee from this same day ; 
 And since we both of us are growing old, 
 And both our lives will soon be as tales 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, 
 Your 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 up 
 The kingly service ; many a jewelled cup 
 And silver platter ; and the fires roar 
 About the stalled ox 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 hearts, making the past seem dull, 
 The future hollow, but the present 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 dry, 
 May yet be friends, and talking lovingly, 
 And with our laughter make the pillars ring, 
 While this one sits revolving many a thing, 
 Saddened by that, which makes us elders glad." 
 
 Such good words said he, but the thoughts were bad 
 
OF JASON, 25 
 
 Within his crafty breast ; and still he thought 
 How best he might be rid of him just brought, 
 By sentence of the Gods, 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 his race, and thought no shame 
 To kiss his 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 the harp-string and shrill-piping reed 
 Still sounded, trooped the folk unto the feast, 
 And all were set to meat, both most and least ; 
 And when with dainties they were fully fed, 
 Then the tall jars and well-sewn goat-skins bled, 
 And men grew glad, forgetting every care. 
 But first a golden chain and mantle fair 
 Pelias did on him ; and then, standing up, 
 Poured out red wine from a great golden cup 
 Unto the Gods, and prayed to them : " ye 
 Who rule the world, grant us felicity 
 This hour, at least, nor let our sweet delight 
 lie marred by aught, until the silent night 
 Has come, and turned to day again, and we 
 Wake up once more to joy or misery, 
 Or death itself, if so it pleaseth you : 
 Is this thing, then, so great a thing to do ? " 
 
 Thereon folk shouted, and the pipes again 
 Breathed through the hall a sweet heart-softening strain, 
 And up the hall came lovely damsels, dressed 
 In gowns of green, who unto every guest 
 
26 THE LIFE AND DEATH 9 
 
 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 about the hall. 
 
 Now longer did the cool grey shadows fall, 
 And faster drew the sun unto the west, 
 And in the field the husbandman, opprest 
 With twelve hours labour, turned unto his home, 
 And to the fold the woolly sheep were come ; 
 And in the hall the folk began 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 broke, 
 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 Minyjx), 
 Right prosperous and honoured may ye be ; 
 When Athamas ruled over Thebes the great, 
 Upon his house there fell a heavy fate, 
 Making his name a mere byeword ; for he, 
 Being wedded to the noble Nephele, 
 -Gat on her a fair youth and tender maid, 
 Phryxus and Hello ; but, being nought afraid 
 
OF JASON. 27 
 
 Of what the righteous Gods might do to hinv 
 And seeing Ino, fair of -face and limb ( 
 
 Beyond all other, needs with her must wed, 
 And to that end drove from his royal bed 
 Unhappy Nephele, who now must be 
 A slave, where once she governed royally ; 
 While the white-footed Ino sat alone 
 By Athamas 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 born of Nephele, 
 Who yet, in spite of all things, day by day 
 Grew fairer as their sad lives wore away ; 
 Till Ino thought, What help will it have been, 
 That through these years I have been called a queen, 
 And set gold raiment on my children dear, 
 If Athamas should die and leave me here 
 Betwixt the people and this Nephele, 
 With those she bore ? What then could hap to me 
 But death or shame ? for then, no doubt, would reign 
 Over this mighty town the children twain ; 
 With her who once was queen still standing near, 
 And whispering fell words in her darlings ear. 
 And then what profit would it be that they 
 Have won through me full many an evil day 
 That Phryxus base and servile deeds doth know, 
 Unmeet for lords ; that many a shame and woe 
 Helle has borne, and yet is wont to stand, 
 Shrinking with fear, before some dreaded hand ; 
 If still the ending of it must be this, 
 That I must die while they live on in bliss, 
 And cherish her that first lay in my bed V 
 Nor is there any help till they be dead. 
 
 " Then did she fall on many an evil thought, 
 And going thence, with threats and money brought 
 
28 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 The women of the land to do this thing : 
 
 In the mid-winter, yea, before the spring 
 
 Was in men s minds, they took the good seed corn, 
 
 And while their husbands toiled in the dark morn, 
 
 And dreaded nought, they thoroughly seethed it all ; 
 
 Whereby this seeming portent did befall, 
 
 That neither the sweet showers of April tide, 
 
 Nor the May sunshine, gleaming far and wide 
 
 Over the meadows, made their furrows green, 
 
 Nor yet in June was any young shoot seen. 
 
 Then drew the country folk unto the king, 
 Weeping and wailing, telling of the thing, 
 And praying him to satisfy the God, 
 Whoe er he was, who with this cruel 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 story 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 the 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 give 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 lies, 
 And mingling fables with his histories. 
 
 " Therefore is Athamas a wretched man 
 To hear this tale, and doeth what he can 
 
OF JASON. 29 
 
 To save his flesh and blood, but all in vain ; 
 
 Because the people, cruel in their pain, 
 
 With angry words were thronging 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 his children they would slay, 
 
 And when the dreadful bearer of the bow 
 
 Would best be pleased to see their young blood flow. 
 
 Who said, that if the thing were quickly done, 
 
 Seeing the green things were not wholly gone, 
 
 The ruined fields might give a little food, 
 
 And that high noon-tide the next day was good, 
 
 Above all other hours, to do the thing ; 
 
 And thereupon they prayed unto the king, 
 
 To take the younglings, lest, being fled away, 
 
 They still might live and leave an evil day 
 
 To Thebes and all its folk henceforth to bear. 
 
 " Then men were sent, who by the river fair 
 Found Phryxus casting nets into the stream, 
 Who, seeing them coming, little harm did deem 
 They meant him, and with welcome bade them share 
 The glittering heap of fishes that lay there. 
 But they with laughter fell at once on him, 
 Who, struggling wrathfully, broke here a limb 
 And there a head, but lastly 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. 
 
 " Whom soon they found, within the weaving-room, 
 Bent earnestly above the rattling loom, 
 Working 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 dragged her trembling to the prison drear, 
 
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 laid 
 In the same dismal place, the wretched maid 
 Bewailed with him the sorrows of their life, 
 Praying the Gods to show the king s new wife 
 What sorrow was, nor let her hair grow grey 
 Ere in some hopeless place her body lay. 
 
 " Now in that court a certain beast there was, 
 The gift of Neptune to King Atbamas, 
 A mighty ram, greater than such beasts be 
 In any land about the Grecian sea ; 
 And in all else a wonder to men s eyes, 
 For from his shoulders did two wings arise, 
 That seemed as they were wrought of beaten gold, 
 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 Nephcle had late been made, 
 AVho, 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 palace he did stand. 
 For all the place was made of polished wood, 
 Studded with gold ; 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 great lime-trees, 
 Hummed over by innumerable 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. 
 There with the ram, close in a little wood, 
 
OF JASON. 3 1 
 
 She hid herself a-nigh the gates, till noon 
 
 Should bring those to the Lady of the Moon 
 
 She longed to see ; and as the time drew nigh, 
 
 She knelt, and with her trembling hands did tie 
 
 About the gold beast s neck a mystic thing, 
 
 And in his ears, meanwhile, was murmuring 
 
 Words taught her by the ever-changing God, 
 
 Who on the sands at noon is wont to nod 
 
 Beside the flock of Neptune ; till at last 
 
 Upon the breeze the sound of flutes went past ; 
 
 Then sore she trembled, as she held the beast 
 
 By the two golden horns, but never ceased 
 
 Her mystic rhyme ; and louder, and more loud 
 
 The music sounded, till the solemn crowd 
 
 Along the dusty road came full in sight. 
 
 First went the minstrels, clad in raiment white, 
 
 Both men and maids garlanded daintily ; 
 
 And then ten damsels, naked from the knee, 
 
 Who in their hands bare bows done round with leaves, 
 
 And arrows at their backs in goodly sheaves, 
 
 Gaudily feathered, ready for the strife ; 
 
 Then came three priests, whereof one bore the knife, 
 
 One a great 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 face 
 
 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 arid the braveries, 
 And all he never thought to see again. 
 But Helle, as she went, could not refrain 
 From bitter wailing for the days gone by, 
 
32 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 When hope was mixed with certain misery; 
 And, when the long day s task and fear was done, 
 She might take pleasure sometimes in the sun, 
 Whose rays 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 body 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 neck 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 mighty 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 aside both singing-man and priest, 
 And girded maiden, and the startled king, 
 And Ino, grown all pale to see the thing, 
 With rising horror in her evil heart. 
 And thereon Phryxus, seeing the crowd part, 
 And this deliverer nigh him, with wings spread 
 Heady 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 air 
 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. 
 
OF JASON. 33 
 
 " Then went the king unto his house again, 
 And Tno with him, downcast that the twain 
 Had so escaped her, waiting for what fate 
 Should bring upon her doomed head, soon or late. 
 
 " Nor long she waited ; for, one evil day, 
 Unto the king her glittering gold array 
 And rosy flesh, half seen through raiment thin, 
 Seemed like the many-spotted leopard s skin ; 
 And her fair hands and feet like armed paws 
 The treacherous beast across the strained throat draws 
 Of some poor fawn ; and when he saw her go 
 Across the hall, her footsteps soft and slow 
 And the lithe motion of her body fair 
 But made him think of some beast 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 Clod ; 
 And stealthily about the place he trod, 
 Seeking his sword ; and, getting it to hand, 
 With flaming eyes and foaming mouth did stand 
 Awhile, then rushed at 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 triumph by the man whose well-known cheer 
 Close at her heels, now struck such deadly fear 
 Into her heart, the forge of many a woe. 
 
 " So, full of anguish, panting did she go 
 O er rough and smooth, till field and wood was passed, 
 And on the border of the sea at last, 
 With raiment torn and unshod feet, she stood, 
 Reddening the flowering sea-pink with her blood. 
 
 " But when she saw the tireless hunter nigh, 
 All wild and shouting, with a dreadful cry 
 She stretched her arms out seaward, and sprung down 
 Over the cliff among the seaweed brown 
 
 4* 
 
34 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And washing surf, neither did any one 
 See aught of her again beneath the sun. 
 
 " But Athamas, being come to where she stood, 
 Stared vacantly awhile upon the blood, 
 Then, looking seaward, drew across his eyes 
 His fevered hand : and thronging memories 
 Came thick upon him, until dreamily 
 He turned his back upon the hungry sea, 
 And cast his sword down ; and so, weaponless, 
 Went back, half-waking to his sore distress. 
 
 "As for the twain, perched on that dizzy height, 
 The white-walled city faded from their sight, 
 And many another place that well they knew ; 
 And over woods and meadows still they flew ; 
 And to the husbandmen seemed like a flame 
 Blown twixt the earth and sky ; until they came 
 Unto the borders of the murmuring sea. 
 Nor stayed they yet, but 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 far beneath, 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 murmuring 
 Beneath her feet ; till a great gust of wind 
 Caught the beast s wings and swayed him round ; then, 
 
 blind, 
 
 J)izzy, 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 brother strove to hold 
 
OF JASON. 35 
 
 Her jewelled girdle, but the treacherous zone 
 Broke in his hand, and he was left alone 
 Upon the ram, that, as a senseless thing, 
 Still flew on toward the east, no whit heeding 
 His shouts and cries ; but 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 en wound, 
 Upon the south side of the murmuring strait, 
 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 fearful of the wind, that by his brow 
 Went shrieking, as, without all stop or stay, 
 The golden wings still bore him on his way 
 Above the unlucky waves of that ill sea 
 That foamed beneath his feet unceasingly. 
 Nor knew he to what land he was being borne, 
 Whether he 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 the kind, unburning 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 he forget both crown and sword, 
 And e en the names of slave, and king, and lord, 
 And lead a merry life, till all was done, 
 And mid the green boughs, marked by no carved stone, 
 
36 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 His unremembered bones should waste away, 
 In dew, and rain, and sunshine, day by day. 
 
 " So, mid these thoughts, still clinging fearfully 
 Unto his dizzy seat, he passed the sea, 
 And reached a river opening into it, 
 Across the which the white-winged fowl did flit 
 From cliff to cliff, and on the sandy bar 
 The fresh waves and the salt waves were at war, 
 At turning of the tide. Forth flew they then, 
 Till they drew nigh a strange abode of men, 
 Far up the river, white-walled, fair, and great, 
 And at eac i end of it a brazen 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 stayed the ram his course, and lighted down 
 Hard by the western gate of that fair town, 
 And on the hard way Phryxus joyfully 
 Set foot, full dizzy with the 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 him. 
 
 " But they, beholding him so strong of limb, 
 And fair of face, and seeing the beast that trod 
 Behind his back, deemed him some wandering God, 
 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 this i 
 And who rules over you for woe or bliss ? 
 And will he grant me peace to-day or war I 
 And may I here abide, or still afar 
 Must I to new abodes go wandering? 
 
 " Now as he spake those words, that city s king 
 Adown the street was drawing towards the gate, 
 Clad in gold raiment worthy his estate : 
 
OF JASON. 37 
 
 Therefore one said : Behold our king is here, 
 
 Who of all us is held both lief and dear ; 
 
 .^Eetes, leader of a mighty host, 
 
 Feared by all folk along the windy coast. 
 
 And since this city s name thou fain wouldst know, 
 
 Men call it ./Ea, built long years ago, 
 
 Holpen of many Gods, who love it well. 
 
 Now come thou to the king, and straightly tell 
 
 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 much-desired fame. 
 
 " 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 wain 
 Hast thou crossed o er the green and restless plain 
 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 unknown country trod, 
 Where 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 wouldst thou have us do, who are but 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 against my throat, there came this ram, 
 Who brought me to the place where now I am 
 Safe from the sea and from the bitter knife. 
 
38 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And in this city would I spend my life, 
 And do what service seemeth good to thee, 
 Since all the Gods it pleases I should be 
 Outcast from friends and country, though alive ; 
 Nor with their will have I the heart to strive 
 More than thou hast ; and now as in such wise 
 I have been saved, fain would I sacrifice 
 This beast to Jove, the helper of all such, 
 As false friends fail, or foes oppress* too much. 
 
 " Yea, said ^Eetes, so the thing shall be 
 In whatsoever fashion pleaseth thee ; 
 And long time mayst thou dwell with us in bliss, 
 Not doing any service worse than this, 
 To bear in war my royal banner forth, 
 When fall the wild folk on us from the north. 
 Come now this eve, and hold high feast with 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 befallen him, and in a grove, 
 Upon the altar of the Saving Jove, 
 They offered up the ram the morrow morn 
 That thitherward the Theban prince had borne. 
 
 " And thenceforth Phryxus dwelt in Colchis long 
 In wealth and honour, and, being brave and strong, 
 Won great renown in many a bloody fray, 
 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 ^Eetes heart a longing grew 
 To have the thing, yea, even if he slew 
 His guest to get it ; so, one evil night, 
 While the prince lay and dreamed about the fight, 
 With all armed men was every entry filled, 
 And quickly were the few doorkeepers killed ; 
 
OF JASON. 39 
 
 And Pbryxus, roused with clamour from his bed, 
 Half-armed and dizzy, with few strokes was dead. 
 And thus the King ^Eetes had his will ; 
 And thus the GOLDEN FLEECE he keepeth still 
 Somewhere within his royal house of gold. 
 
 " And thus, Minyaj, 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 ^Eetes mete 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 should 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 feasters, was there 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 father, old and weak, 
 Left twixt the fickle people of the land, 
 And wily Pelias, while he clenched his hand, 
 As though it held a sword, about his cup. 
 
 Then, mid the murmuring, Pelias stood up 
 And said : " 0, leaders of the Minyse, 
 I hear ye name a name right dear to me 
 My brother s son, who in the oaken wood 
 Has grown up nurtured of the Centaur good, 
 
40 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And now this day has conic again to us, 
 
 Fair faced and mighty limbed, and amorous 
 
 Of fame and glorious deeds ; nowise content 
 
 Betwixt the forest 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 lord 
 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 kin;:, 
 While yet the hall with Jason s name did ring, 
 Set in his hands a gleaming cup of gold, 
 And said : "0 Jason, wilt thou well behold 
 These leaders of the people, who are fain 
 To go with thee and suffer many a pain 
 And deadly fear, if they may win at last 
 Undying fame when fleeting life is past ? 
 And now, if thou art willing to be first 
 Of all these men, of whom, indeed, the worst 
 Is 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 I what length of quiet years ? 
 What freedom from ill care and deadly fears V 
 Do what thou wilt, but none the less believe 
 That all these things and more thou shouldst receive, 
 If thou wert Jason, I were Jove to-day. 
 
 " And ye who now are hot to play this play, 
 Seeking the fleece across an unknown sea, 
 
OF JASON. 41 
 
 Bethink ye yet of death, and misery, 
 And dull despair, before ye arm to go 
 Unto a savage king and folk none know, 
 Whence it may well hap none of ye to come 
 Again unto your little ones and home. 
 
 " And do thou, Pelias, ere we get us forth, 
 Send heralds out, east, west, and south, and north, 
 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, 
 For many a brave man like a fool will sit 
 Beside the council board ; 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 on 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 toward 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 father s hall, or the green grass 
 O er which the grey Thessalian horses pass. 
 
 " But now, friends, forget all till the morn 
 With other thoughts and fears is duly born ! " 
 
 He ceased, and all men shouted ; and again 
 They filled their cups, 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, 
 Gazing upon the wild tumultuous folk 
 
42 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 As one who knows what troubles are to come, 
 And in this world looks for no peaceful home, 
 So much he dreaded what the Gods might do. 
 
 But ^Eson, 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, longing for the strife ; 
 Though in his heart he did not fail to see 
 His uncle s cunning wiles and treachery ; 
 But thought, when sixty years are gone, at most, 
 Then will all pleasure and all pain be lost ; 
 Although my name, indeed, be cast about 
 From hall to 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 
 O er the Greek sea, so many years agone. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 NOW, the next morn, when risen was the 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 
 
OF JASON. 43 
 
 News of these things throughout the towns of Greece, 
 Moving great men to seek the golden fleece. 
 
 Therefore, from many a lordship forth they rode, 
 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, all the folk who went upon this quest 
 I cannot name, but fain 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 
 These grew to be 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 
 Sung of old time beside the Grecian sea. 
 
 Howe er it be, now clinging to the hem 
 Of those old singers, will I tell of them, 
 In weak and faltering voice, e en as I can. 
 
 Now was the well-skilled Argus the first man 
 Who through the gates into lolchos passed, 
 Whose lot in fertile Egypt first was cast, 
 The nurse of Gods and wonder-working men ; 
 His father s name was Danaus, 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 : "0 King, 
 Me have the Gods sent here to do the thing 
 Ye need the most; for truly have I seen, 
 Twixt sleep and waking, one clad 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, 
 
44 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And go unto a city great of girth 
 Men call lolchos, and there ask for one 
 Who now gets ready a great race to run 
 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 I, who send thee to him, am the same 
 Who in the greenwood bade him look for fame 
 That lie desired little ; and am she 
 Who, when the eddies rushed tumultuously 
 About us, bore him to the river side : 
 And unto thee shall such-like things betide. 
 
 " Therewith she told me many a crafty thing 
 About this keel that ye are now lacking, 
 Bidding me 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 us 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, 
 From 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 men 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." 
 
 Then Jason gave him thanks and gifts enow, 
 And through the town sought all who chanced to know. 
 The wood wright s craft, by whom was much begun, 
 
OF JASON. 45 
 
 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 hold 
 The second rafter in the royal hall 
 To make the new ship s goodly prow withal. 
 
 So Argiis 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, Saturn s seed. 
 
 Meanwhile came many heroes to the town : 
 Asterion, dweller on the windy down 
 Below Philscus, far up in the north ; 
 Slow-footed Polyphemus, late borne forth 
 In chariot from Larissa, that beholds 
 Green-winding Peneus cleaving fertile wolds ; 
 Erginus, son of Neptune, nigh the sea 
 His father sent him, where the laden bee 
 Flies low across Maeander, 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, Pirithous, who his loved abode 
 Amid the shady trees had left that tide 
 Where fly the centaurs arrows far and wide. 
 
 Black-haired was Theseus, slim, and still his cheek 
 Lacked all but down, for yet he had to seek 
 
 5* 
 
46 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 The twisted ways of Daedalus 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 great black ship to fill. 
 
 Next, threading Argive ways and woody lanes, 
 Came Nauplius, son of Neptune, to those plains, 
 Crossing Anaurus dryshod, for his sire 
 With threats and blows drove up the land-stream higher, 
 And sucked the 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 Argos, too, to win a deathless name ; 
 And if thenceforth came any heroes more 
 I know not, 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 maid, yet fearing not for aught ; 
 For she, with many a vow, had dearly bought 
 Diana s love, and in no flowery stead 
 Had borne to hear love-songs, or laid her head 
 On 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, 
 Has won a name no woman else can have. 
 
OF JASON. 47 
 
 Next through the gates his car Oileus drave, 
 The Locrain king, red-haired, with fierce grey eyes 
 Wandering from right to left, as though some prize 
 He sought for in the rich Thessalian land ; 
 Then Iphiclus beside the gates did stand, 
 His kine at all adventure left at home, 
 That on a doubtful voyage he might roam. 
 
 Admetus from the well-walled Pherss came, 
 Longing to add new glory to the fame 
 Of him whose flocks 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 dancing-girl, her hair 
 Swung round her dainty loins and bosom bare ; 
 But needs must try the hollow-sounding sea, 
 As herald of the heroes, nor was he 
 Left by his brother Eurytus the strong. 
 
 Neither did Cseneus, the Magnesian, long 
 Less than the others strange new lands to see, 
 Though wondrous things were told of him, that 
 he, 
 
 Once woman, now was man by Neptune s aid, 
 
 And thus had won a long-desired maid. 
 From nigh Larissa came ^Etalides, 
 
 Leaving a plain well-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. 
 
 Eurydamas, tired of the peaceful lake 
 
 Of Xynias, was come for Jason s sake 
 
 To lay his well-skilled hands upon the oar, 
 
 Dealing with greater waves than heretofore. 
 Menoatius, son of Actor, from the land 
 
 Where swift Asopus runs through stones and sand, 
 
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, cometh after him. 
 
 Then a rich man, grown old, but strong of limb, 
 
 Eurytion, son of Iras, leaveth now 
 
 His husbandmen still following of the plough 
 
 In the fat Thcban meadows, while he goes, 
 
 Driven by fate, to suffer biting woes. 
 
 From (Echalia, Clytius the king, 
 And Iphitus his brother, felt the sting 
 That drives great men through woes to seek renown, 
 And left their guarded city, looking down 
 From rocky heights on the well- watered plain. 
 Ixight wise they were, and men say, not in vain 
 Before Apollo s court they claimed to be 
 The first who strung the fatal cornel tree, 
 And loosed the twanging bowstring from the ear. 
 
 Then to the gate a chariot drew a-near, 
 Wherein two brothers sat, whereof the one 
 Who held the reins was mighty Telamon ; 
 And Peleus was the other s dreaded name. 
 And from an island both the heroes came, 
 Sunny ^Egina, where their father 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 greater heroes from their loins should come, 
 The doomsmen of the Trojan s godlike home. 
 
 Fair Athens, and the olive groves thereby, 
 Phalerus left, riding through deserts dry 
 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 
 
OF JASON. 49 
 
 And pour out wine for well accomplished days, 
 Who, all besotted with the Syren s lays, 
 Must leave his mates ; nor happier than he, 
 Tiphys the pilot came, although the sea 
 Dealt gently with the ship whose ashen helm 
 His hand touched ; in the rich Boeotian realm, 
 He left outlandish merceries stored up 
 With many a brazen bowl and silver cup 
 His heirs should feast from in the days to come, 
 When men lie knew not went about his home. 
 
 Next Pblias came, forgetful of the hill 
 That bears his name, where oft the maidens fill 
 Their baskets with the coal-black clustering grapes, 
 Far on in autumn, when the parched earth gapes 
 For 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 fair Phoenician weed 
 Glittering from underneath the tawny hair, 
 Who loosely in his dreadful hand did bear 
 A club of unknown wood bound round with brass, 
 And underneath his curled black hair did pass 
 A golden circlet overwrought cunningly 
 With running beasts ; so folk knew this was he 
 That in Amphytrion s palace first saw light, 
 And whose first hour began with deadly fight, 
 Alcinena s son, the dreadful Hercules ; 
 The man whose shout the close Nemean trees 
 Had stifled, and the lion met in vain ; 
 Thr ravisher of hell, the serpent s bane, 
 W r hom neither Gods nor fate could overwhelm. 
 
 Now was he come to this Thessalian realm 
 To serve with Jason on the wandering seas, 
 Half seeking fame, half wishing to appease 
 
50 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 The wrath of her who grudged him ease and rest, 
 Yet needs must see him, of all men the best. 
 Laughing he went, and with him on each hand 
 There rode a squire from the Thebau land ; 
 Hylas was first, whose sire, Theodamas, 
 Had given him worthy gifts of gold and brass, 
 And gold-wrought arms, that he should see no more 
 Glittering 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 liko Gods they rode, but lie 
 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 his thought ; 
 And round about the heroes were at play, 
 Casting the quoit ; but on the well-paved way. 
 With clanging arms, leapt down Alcmena s son 
 Before 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, if wide report says true, 
 That even now with cinnabar and blue 
 Men paint your long ship s prow, and shave the oars 
 With sharpened planes ; for sooth ly, 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 ; wherefore some men say 
 
OF JASON. 51 
 
 That in Amphytrion a bed my mother lay 
 When I was gotten ; and yet other some 
 Say that a God upon that night did come 
 (Whose name I speak not), like unto the king, 
 With whom Alcmena played, but nought witting. 
 
 " Nor I, nor others know the certainty 
 Of all these things ; but certes, royally 
 My brother rules at Thebes, 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 borne back the fleece across the sea, 
 Thy liege-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 plough 
 That no man reaps ; yet certes, thou alone 
 In after days shalt be the glorious one 
 Whom men shall sing of when they name the fleece 
 That bore the son of Athamas from Greece, 
 When I and all these men have come to nought." 
 
 So spake he ; but the great-eyed Juno brought 
 His words to nothing, stooping to behold 
 Jason s fair head, whereon the locks of gold 
 Curled thick and close, and his grey eager eyes, 
 That seemed already to behold the prize 
 In far-off Colchis, like a God he stood, 
 No less than he that in the darksome wood 
 Slew the lake-haunting, many-headed beast. 
 
52 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 But on that day the Minytc held a feast, 
 Praising the Gods, arid 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 carne there two, 
 In nowise worse than any of the best, 
 Castor and Pollux, who thought not to rest 
 In woody Lacedaemon, where the doves 
 Make summer music in the beechen groves, 
 But rather chose to hear the sea-fowl sing. 
 
 Their mother wedded Tyndarus the king. 
 And yet a greater name their father had, 
 As men deem ; for that Leda, all unclad, 
 In cold Eurotas, on a summer morn, 
 Bathed her fair body, unto whom was borne, 
 Fleeing from seeming death, a milk-white swan, 
 Whom straight the naked queen, not fearing man, 
 Took in her arms, nor knew she fostered Jove, 
 Who rules o er mortal 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 cried. 
 But the next morn into the town did ride 
 Lynceus and Idas, leaving far 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 Lynceus would the darkness show 
 That which he lacked ; and of all men was he 
 The luckiest to find the priyity 
 Of gold or gems. And on the self-same day 
 Came Periclymenes, who folk did say 
 Had Proteus gift to change from shape to shape. 
 
 Next from Tegea, where the long green grape 
 
OF JASON. 53 
 
 Grows yellow in the dewy autumn night, 
 There came Ancaeus, stubborn in the fight. 
 
 Amphidamus and Apheus left the trees 
 Where sing 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 tired nymphs, stripping the silken weed 
 From off their limbs ; nor shall Acteon s meed 
 Betide him there among the oaken trees. 
 
 Next came there Augeas, who at Elis 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 grazing sheep, Amphion came, 
 In nowise skilled like him who bore his name, 
 The deathless singer, but right wise in war. 
 Then through the town there passed a brazen car 
 Bearing Euphemus, who had power to go 
 Dryshod acioss the plain no man dorh sow. 
 By Tenarus he dwelt, beside the sea, 
 Anigh the temple of the deity 
 Whose son he was, the shaker of the earth. 
 
 Then came a fresh Ancaeus, who had birth 
 In woody Samos, of the self-same sire 
 Whose heart white-footed Alta set on fire, 
 As on the yellow sands at dawn she went. 
 
 Then Calydon the great a hero sent, 
 The fair-haired Meleager, who became, 
 In after-days, the glory of his name, 
 The greatest name of the J^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 
 
54 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Of life and death she held for him to drain, 
 Nor thought of death and wishes wished in vain. 
 With him his uncle rode, Laoeoon, 
 No longer young, teaching his brother s son 
 What longed <to ruling men and unto war. 
 
 From Lacedrcmon, Ipbiclus afar 
 Had travelled till the rich embroidered weed, 
 His father Thestius gave him at his 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 fatal bow 
 Of horn, and wood, and brass, but now unstrung. 
 And at his back a well-closed quiver hung, 
 Done round with silver bands and leopard s skin, 
 And fifty deaths were bidden well therein 
 Of men or beasts ; for whoso stood before 
 His bended bow and angry eyes, no more 
 Should see the green trees and the fertile earth. 
 
 Then came two brothers of a wondrous birth, 
 Zetes and Calais, sons of Boreas ; 
 For he beheld Erechtheus daughter pass 
 Along Ilissus, one bright windy day, 
 Whom from amidst her maids he 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 wings, wherewith at will they sped 
 From land to land, midst of the pathless air. 
 
 Next from Magnesia did roan horses boar 
 Phocus and Priasus, well skilled to cast 
 The whistling dart; then o er the drawbridge passed 
 .Ktolian PalaMiionitis, who not yet 
 Had seen men armed in anger, or steel wet 
 
OF JASON. 55 
 
 With blood of aught but beasts, but none the less 
 Was willing now to stand among the press 
 Of god-like men, who, with the Minyae, 
 Were armed to bring the fleece across the sea. 
 
 Then came Asclepius, whom the far-darter 
 Saved living from the lifeless corpse of her 
 He once loved well, but slew, for treason done, 
 Fair-haired Coronis, whose far-seeing 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 worst of them could do. 
 So many a bitter fight with death he had, 
 And made the heart of many a sick man glad, 
 And gave new life to many a man who seemed 
 But dead already, wherefore people deemed 
 When 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 quest, 
 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 waves, 
 And twice a-day the walls of Pylos laves ; 
 For he was fain to expiate the sin 
 Pelias shared with him, long years past within 
 Queen Juno s temple, where the brothers slew 
 The old Sidero, crying 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. 
 
 
56 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 So might Sidero feel, when fell on her 
 Unlooked-for death and deadly, hopeless fear ; 
 And in their turn must Neleus o er the sea 
 Go wandering now, and Pelias must be 
 A trembling liar till death seizes him. 
 
 But now with Neleus, young but strong of limb, 
 His wise, far-seeing offspring, Nestor, went, 
 With eyes a little downward ever bent, 
 Thinking of this and that which he had seen ; 
 Who, when his youth was flourishing and green, 
 Saw many feats of arms and ways of men, 
 Yet lived so long to be well honoured, when 
 In Troy the old the princes shared the spoil. 
 
 Next 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 clime. 
 
 Next whom came Almenus, 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 from him, 
 Though light of foot she was, and strong of limb. 
 
 And last of all, Orpheus the singer came, 
 The son of King (Eager, great of fame, 
 Yet happier by much in this, that he 
 Was loved by heavenly Calliope, 
 Who bore him Orpheus on a happy day. 
 And now, through many a rough and toilsome wny, 
 Hither he came the Minyae to please, 
 And make them masters of the threatening seas, 
 Cheering their hearts, and making their hands strong 
 ^Yith the unlooked-for sweetness of his song. 
 
OF JASON. 57 
 
 Nor was it eve by then that Orpheus came 
 Into the hall, and when they heard his name, 
 And toward the high-seat of the prince he drew, 
 All men beholding 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 head, 
 Son of (Eager, but from me, indeed, 
 This gold Daedalian bowl shall be thy meed, 
 If thou wilt let us hear thy voice take wing 
 From out thy heart, and see the golden string 
 Quiver beneath thy fingers. But by me 
 First sit and feast, and happy mayst thou be." 
 , 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 fair things stored up over 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 : 
 " Fair friends and well-loved guests, no more shall ye 
 Feast in this hall until we come again 
 Back to this land, well-guerdoned for our pain, 
 Bearing the fleece, and mayhap many a tiling 
 Such as this god-like guest erewhile did sing, 
 
58 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Scarlet, and gold, and brass; but without fail 
 Bearing great fame, if aught that may avail 
 To men who die ; and our names certainly 
 Shall never perish, 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 cinnabar, 
 The long new oars beside the rowlocks are, 
 The sail hangs flapping in the light west wind, 
 Nor aught undone can any craftsman find 
 From stem to stern ; so is our quest begun 
 To-morrow at the rising of the sun. 
 And may Jove bring us all safe back to see 
 Another sun shine on this fair city, 
 When elders and the flower-crowned maidens meet 
 With tears and singing our returning feet." 
 
 So spake he, and so mighty was the shout, 
 That the hall shook, and shepherd-folk without 
 The well-walled city heard it as they went 
 Unto the fold across the thyrny bent. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 BUT through the town few eyes were sealed by sleep 
 When the sun rose ; yea, and the upland sheep 
 Must guard themselves for that one morn at least 
 Against the wolf; and wary doves may feast 
 Unscared that morning on the ripening corn. 
 Nor did the whetstone touch the scythe that morn ; 
 And all unheeded did the mackerel shoal 
 Make green the blue waves, or the porpoise roll 
 Through changing hills and valleys of the sea. 
 
OF JASON. 59 
 
 For twixt the thronging people solemnly 
 The heroes went afoot along the way 
 That led unto the haven of the bay, 
 And as they went the roses rained on them 
 From windows glorious with the well-wrought hem 
 Of many a purple cloth ; and all their spears 
 Were twined with flowers that the fair earth bears ; 
 And round their ladies tokens were there set 
 About their helmets, flowery wreaths, still wet 
 With beaded dew of the scarce vanished night. 
 
 So as they passed, the young men at the sight 
 Shouted for joy, and their hearts swelled with pride ; 
 But scarce the elders could behold dry-eyed 
 The glorious show, remembering well the days 
 When they were able too to win 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 must hold 
 The empty air unto their bosoms cold, 
 And make their sweet complainings to the night 
 That heedeth not soft eyes and bosoms white. 
 And many such an one was there that morn, 
 Who, with lips parted and grey eyes forlorn, 
 Stood by the window and forgot to cast 
 Her gathered flowers as the heroes passed, 
 But held them still within her garment s hem, 
 Though many a 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 them to the doubtful sea. 
 
 And now, the streets being passed, they reached the bay, 
 Where 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 ; 
 
60 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And as along the quays they drew a-near, 
 Faster they strode and faster, till a cry 
 Again burst from them, and right eagerly 
 Into swift running did they break 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 up 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 Pelias takes ; and now may ye behold 
 The broad new-risen sun light up the God, 
 Who, holding in his hand the crystal rod 
 That rules the sea, stands by Daedalian 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 and 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 straight did Argo reel, 
 Set free, and smitten by the western breeze, 
 
OF JASON. 6 1 
 
 And raised herself against the ridgy seas, 
 
 With golden eyes turned toward the Colchian land, 
 
 Still heedful of wise Tiphys skilful hand. 
 
 But silent sat the heroes by the oar, 
 Hearkening the sounds borne from the lessening shore ; 
 The lowing of the doomed and flower-crowned 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 pondering 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 Neptune, joyful of the sacrifice 
 Beside the sea, and all the gifts of price 
 That Jason gave him, sent them wind at will, 
 And swiftly Argo 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-strings let his fingers run 
 Nigh soundless, and with closed lips for a while ; 
 But soon across his face there came a smile, 
 And his glad voice brake into such a song 
 That swiftlier sped the eager ship along. 
 
 " bitter sea, tumultuous sea, 
 Full many an ill is wrought by thee ! 
 Unto the wasters of the land 
 Thou boldest out thy wrinkled hand ; 
 And when they leave the conquered town, 
 
62 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Whose black smoke makes thy surges brown, 
 Driven betwixt thee and the sun, 
 As the long day of blood is done, 
 From many a league of glittering waves 
 Thou smilest on them and their slaves. 
 
 " The thin bright-eyed Phoenician 
 Thou drawest to thy waters wan, 
 With ruddy eve and golden morn 
 Thou temptest him, until, forlorn, 
 Unburied, under alien skies 
 Cast up ashore his body lies. 
 
 " Yea, whoso sees thee from his door, 
 Must ever long for more and more ; 
 Nor will the beechen bowl suffice, 
 Or homespun robe of little price, 
 Or hood well-woven of the fleece 
 Undyed, or unspiced wine of Greece ; 
 So sore his heart is set upon 
 Purple, and gold, and cinnamon ; 
 For as thou cravest, so he craves, 
 Until he rolls beneath thy waves. 
 Nor in some landlocked, unknown bay, 
 Can satiate thee for one day. 
 
 " Now, therefore, thou bitter sea, 
 With no long words we pray to thee, 
 But ask thee, hast thou felt before 
 Such strokes of the long ashen oar "I 
 And hast thou yet seen such a prow 
 Thy rich and niggard waters plough ? 
 
 " Nor 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, 
 Wanned by no sunlight any more. 
 
OF JASON. 63 
 
 " Therefore, indeed, we joy in tlioc, 
 And praise thy greatness, and will we 
 Take at thy hands both good and ill, 
 Yea, what thou wilt, and praise thee still, 
 Enduring not to sit at home, 
 And wait until the last days come, 
 When we no more may care to hold 
 White bosoms under crowns of gold, 
 And our dulled hearts no longer are 
 Stirred 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 thou hast of us to-day ; 
 And if thou hast a mind to save, 
 Great praise and honour shalt thou have ; 
 But whatso thou wilt do with us, 
 Our end shall not be piteous, 
 Because our memories shall live 
 When folk forget the way to drive 
 The black keel through the heaped-up sea, 
 And half dried up thy waters be." 
 
 Then shouted all the heroes, and they drove 
 The good ship forth, so that the birds above, 
 With long white wings, scarce flew so fast as they. 
 And so they 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 theft of Bacchus, and the wondrous birth 
 Of golden Venus. Natheless, when the sun 
 To fall adown the heavens had begun, 
 They trimmed the sails, and drew the long oars up, 
 
64 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And, having poured wine from a golden cup 
 Unto the Gods, gladdened their hearts with food ; 
 Then, having feasted as they thought it good, 
 Set hands upon the oars again, and so 
 Toiled on, until the broad sun, growing low, 
 Reddened the green sea ; then they held their hands 
 Till he should come again from unknown lands, 
 And fell to meat again, 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 began 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 beneath 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 Lemnos ; 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 beach 
 Under the cliff, that no high wave could reach, 
 And in the rock a deep cave cut, whereby 
 A man was standing, gazing earnestly 
 Upon their ship, and shouting words that, tost 
 Hither and thither by the wind, were lost 
 Amid the tumbling of the ridgy sea ; 
 Nathcless, they deemed that he still prayed to be 
 Their fellow, and to leave those rocky shores ; 
 
OF JASON. 65 
 
 Therefore, with backing of the ashen oars, 
 They stayed the ship, and beckoned unto him 
 To try the sea, 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 sea, and beat about 
 The waters bravely, till he reached the ship 
 And clambering up, let the salt water drip 
 From off his naked limbs, nor spoke he aught 
 Until before the fair 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 give 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, haven or deep bay. 
 
 Then being clothed and fed, the island man 
 Came 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 this 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 thy my 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, 
 
66 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Save only that no temple Venus had, 
 
 And from no altars was her heart made glad ; 
 
 Wherefore for us she wove a bitter fate, 
 
 For by her power she set an evil hate 
 
 Of man, like madness in each woman s heart, 
 
 And heavy sleep on us 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 tell the thing, 
 Nigh dawn I woke, and, turning, thought to cling 
 Unto the warm side of my well-loved 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-bled 
 In my son s sleeping place, and nigh the door 
 His body, hacked and hewn, upon the floor : 
 Naked he was, but in his clenched right hand 
 Held tufts of woman s hair. 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 ; but the golden sun 
 Came forth at last, and daylight was begun ; 
 Then trembling I took heart to leave at last 
 The lonely house, 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 cries of men 
 Drunken with blood ; but yet as in a dream 
 I went to meet it, and heard many 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 the chase. 
 
 " Because, indeed, the old familar place, 
 
OF JASON. 67 
 
 From house-wall unto house-wall, was now filled 
 With frantic women, whose thin voices shrilled 
 With unknown war-cries ; little did they heed 
 If, as they tore along, their flesh did bleed 
 So that some man was slain, nor feared they now 
 If they each other smote with spear or bow, 
 For all were armed 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 slain men had, 
 And some their kirtles wore looped up or rent. 
 
 " So ever at us 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, till some two or three, 
 As still the others strove confusedly, 
 Burst from the press, and, heading all the rest, 
 Kan 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 lightly 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, 
 Grot 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, rising fearfully, 
 
68 THE 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-fish, and made shift to reach 
 Some few birds eggs ; but natheless misery 
 Must soon have slain me, had not the kind sea 
 Sent you, lords, to give me life again ; 
 Therefore, I pray, ye may not wish in vain 
 For aught, and that with goods and happiness 
 The father 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 children of the conquering Minyae, 
 And make for Colchis o er the watery 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 grudging fate 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 he was armed, he seemed a goodly man. 
 
 Meanwhile, along the high cliffs Argo ran 
 Until a fresh land-wind began to rise, 
 
OF JASON. 69 
 
 Then did they set sail, and in goodly wise 
 
 Draw off from Lemnos, and at close of day 
 
 Again before them a new country lay, 
 
 Which when they neared, the helmsman Tiphys knew 
 
 To be the Mysian land ; being come thereto, 
 
 They saw a grassy shore and trees enow, 
 
 And a sweet stream that from the land did flow ; 
 
 Therefore they thought 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, most men left the ship, 
 
 Some hasting the glazed water-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-farers there landed three 
 
 Amongst the best, Alcmena s godlike son, 
 
 Hylas the fair, and that half-halting one, 
 
 Great Polyphemus. Now both Hercules 
 
 And all the others lay beneath the trees, 
 
 When all the jars were filled, nor wandered far ; 
 
 But Hylas, governed by some wayward star, 
 
 Strayed from them, and up stream he set his face, 
 
 And came unto a tangled woody place, 
 
 From whence the stream came, and within that wood 
 
 Along its bank wandered in heedless mood, 
 
 Nor knew it haunted of the sea-nymphs fair, 
 
 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. 
 
70 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Then straight they loved him, and, being fain to have 
 His shapely body in the glassy wave, 
 And taking counsel there, they thought it good 
 That one should meet him in the darksome wood, 
 And by her wiles should draw him to some place 
 Where 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 queen 
 Rules over lands summer alone sees green ; 
 For she in goodly raiment, furred, was clad, 
 And on her head a golden fillet had, 
 Strange of its fashion, and about her shone 
 Many a fair jewel and outlandish stone. 
 
 So in the wood, anigh the river side, 
 The coming of the Theban did she bide, 
 Nor waited long, for slowly pushing through 
 The close-set saplings, o er the flowers blue 
 He drew nigh, singing, 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 his fate indeed he strove in vain ; 
 For, going farther forward warily, 
 From tree-trunk unto 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 writhing 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 high, 
 
OF JASON. 7 1 
 
 Until almost his band on her was laid ; 
 
 Then, lifting up a pale wild face, she said, 
 
 Struggling with sobs and shrinking from his hand : 
 
 " fair young warrior of a happy land, 
 
 Harm not a queen, I pray thee, for I come 
 
 From the far northland, where yet sits at home 
 
 The king, my father, who, since I was wooed 
 
 By a rich lord of Greece, 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 night 
 
 Shall make an end of me, who erewhile thought 
 
 That unto lovelier lands I was being brought, 
 
 To live a happier life than heretofore. 
 
 " But why think I of past times 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, 
 
 Perchance art come, some God, unto my need ; 
 
 For nothing less thou seemest, verily. 
 
 But if thou art a man, let me not die, 
 
 But take me as thy slave, that I may live. 
 
 For many a gem my raiment has to give, 
 
 And these weak fingers surely yet may learn 
 
 To turn the mill, and carry 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 will strive to bring thee on thy way, 
 Who am the well-loved son of a rich man 
 Who dwells in Thebes, beside Ismenus wan." 
 
72 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Therewith 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 hers 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 feet did hold, 
 Then through the tangled wood began to go, 
 Not looking round ; but he cared not to know 
 Whither they went, so only she was nigh. 
 So to her side he hurried fearfully, 
 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 bank 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 clown, 
 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 air in your land certainly, 
 But under foot the way is rough and dry 
 
OF JASON. 73 
 
 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 such flowery grass 
 As this, that soothly mindeth me too much 
 Of that my worshipped feet were wont to touch, 
 When I was called a queen ; let us not haste 
 To leave this sweet place for the tangled waste, 
 I pray thee, therefore, prince, but let us lie 
 Beneath these willows while the wind goes by, 
 And set our hearts to think of happy things, 
 Before the morrow pain and trouble brings." 
 She faltered somewhat as she spoke, but he 
 Drew up before her and took lovingly 
 Her other hand, nor spoke she more to him, 
 Nor he to her awhile, till, 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 bold within that little space, 
 He set his cheek unto her blushing face, 
 And smiling, in a low voice said : 
 
 " sweet, 
 
 Call it an omen that this, nowise meet 
 For deeds of love, has left me by 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 
 His father s Indian serving-man had wrought, 
 And cast his steel coat off, from Persia brought ; 
 
74 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And so at last being freed of brass and steel, 
 Upon bis breast be laid her band to feel 
 The softness of the fine Phoenician stuff 
 That clad it still, nor yet could toy enough 
 With that fair hand ; so played they for a space, 
 Till softly did she draw him to a place 
 Anigh the stream, and they being set, he said : 
 
 " And what dost thou, O love? art thou afraid 
 To cast thine armour off, as I have done, 
 Within this covert where the fiery sun 
 Scarce strikes upon one jewel of your gown ? " 
 
 Then she spake, reddening, with her eyes cast down 
 " prince, behold me as I am to-day, 
 But if o er many a rough and weary way 
 It hap unto us both at last to come 
 Unto the happy place that is thine home, 
 Then let me be 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 across 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 time 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 murmuring 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 lav waking i " 
 
 " Sing on," he said, " but let me dream of bliss 
 If I should sleep, nor yet forget thy kiss." 
 
OF JASON. 75 
 
 She touched his lips with hers, and then began 
 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 dewy dawn to dewy night, 
 And have one with me wandering. 
 
 " And though within it no birds sing, 
 And though no pillared house is there, 
 And though the apple boughs 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 fair streams are, 
 Drawn from the purple 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, 
 Whose murmur comes unceasingly 
 Unto the place for which I cry. 
 
 For which 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 the unforgotten face 
 Once seen, once kissed, once reft from me 
 Anigh the murmuring of the sea." 
 
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 the northern robe done round with fur 
 That hid her beauty, and the light west wind 
 Played with her hair no fillet now did bind, 
 And through her faint grey garment her limbs seemed 
 Like ivory in the sea, and the sun gleamed 
 In the strange jewels round her middle sweet, 
 And in the jewelled sandals on her feet. 
 
 So stood she murmuring till a rippling sound 
 She heard, that grew until she 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 still before them a great ripple sent. 
 
 But when they saw her, toward the bank they drew, 
 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, 
 Arid bore him, sleeping still, as by some spell, 
 Unto the depths where they were wont to dwell ; 
 Then softly down the reedy bank they slid, 
 And with small noise the gurgling river hid 
 The flushed nymphs and the heedless sleeping num. 
 
 But ere the water covered them, one ran 
 Across the mead and caught up from the ground 
 The brass-bound spear, and buckler bossed and round, 
 
OF JASON. 77 
 
 The ivory-hilted sword, and coat of mail, 
 
 Then took the stream ; so what might tell the tale, 
 
 Unless the wind should tell it, or the bird 
 
 Who from the reed these things had seen and heard ? 
 
 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 Hylas ; therefore, when they knew 
 That he was missing, Hercules withdrew 
 From out the throng, if yet perchance his voice 
 Hylas 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, fair 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 good 
 To weigh the anchor, and anigh the shore, 
 With loosened sail, and run-out ready oar, 
 To trim the ship for leaving the fair bay ; 
 And therefore, Juno, waiting 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 let 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 
 
78 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 A figure standing, with wide wings of gold, 
 
 Upright, amid the weltering of the sea, 
 
 Calm midst the noise and cries, and presently 
 
 To all their ears a voice pierced, saying : "No more, 
 
 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 build in Mysia a fair merchant-town, 
 
 And when long years have passed, there lay him down 
 
 And as for Hylas, 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 faces fair, 
 
 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 Juno 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 straits, but all 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 flame ; 
 Yea, some must go and touch the empty space 
 From whence those words flew from the godlike face ; 
 But Jason and the builder, Argus, knew 
 Whereby the prow foretold things strange and new, 
 Nor wondered aught, but thanked the Hods therefore, 
 As far astern they left the Mysian shore. 
 
OF JASON. 79 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 NOW, driven by the oar, and feeling well 
 The wind that made the fair white sail outs well, 
 Thessalian Argo flew on toward the place 
 Where first the rude folk saw dead Helle s face ; 
 There, fearful of the darkness of the night, 
 Without the rocks they anchored till the light, 
 And when the day broke, sped them through the straits 
 With oars alone, and through the narrow gates 
 Came out into Propontis, where with oar 
 And sail together, within sight of shore, 
 They went, until the sun was falling down, 
 And then they saw the white walls of a town, 
 And made thereto, and being come anigh, 
 They found that on an isle the place did lie, 
 And Tiphys called it Cyzicum, a place 
 Built by a goodly man of a great race, 
 Himself called Cyzicus, Euzorus son, 
 Who still in peace ruled over many an one, 
 Merchants and other, in that city fair. 
 
 Therefore, they thought it good to enter there, 
 And going softly, with sails struck, at last 
 Betwixt the two walls of a port they passed, 
 And on the quays 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 he knew, he cried : "0 heroes, land, 
 For here shall all things be 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 the heroes forth upon the fair, 
 
8o THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Well builded quays ; and all the merchant folk 
 Beholding them, from golden dreams awoke, 
 And of the sword and clattering shield grew fain, 
 And glory for a while they counted gain. 
 
 But Jason 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, the crown of palaces ; 
 And there he honoured them with royal feast 
 In his fair hall, hung round with man and boast 
 Wrought in fair Indian cloths, and on soft beds, 
 When they grew weary, did they lay their heads. 
 
 But he, when on the morn they would away, 
 Full many a rich gift in their keel did lay, 
 And while their oars were whitening the green sea, 
 Within his temple he prayed reverently 
 For their good hap to Jove the Saving God. 
 Hapless himself that these had ever trod 
 His quiet land ; for, sailing all 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 drave the Argo, tottering and blind, 
 Back on her course, 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 while there came 
 A rout of armed men thereto, as might 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 
 
OF JASON. 8 1 
 
 Were distant scarce a bowshot, and the tide 
 Had ebbed so quick the 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 beach, and with many a cry 
 The biting arrows from 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 ; 
 But when the sky at last grew grey, and when 
 Dimly the Argo s crew could see their foes, 
 Then overboard they leapt, that they might close 
 With these scarce seen far-fighting enemies, 
 And so met man to man, crying their cries, 
 In deadly shock, but Jason, for his part, 
 Rushing before the rest, put by a dart 
 A tall man threw, and closing with him, drave 
 His spear through shield and breast-plate weak to save 
 His heart from 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 the hard sand all together drew. 
 
 And now, day growing, they the country knew 
 And found it Cyzicum, and Jason said : 
 "Fellows, what have we done ? by likely-head 
 An evil deed, and luckless, but come now, 
 Draw off the helmet from this dead man s brow 
 And name him." So when they had done this thing 
 They saw the face of Cyzicus the king. 
 
 But Jason, when he saw him, wept, and said : 
 " 111 hast thou fared, friend, that I was led 
 To take thy gifts and slay thee ; in such guise, 
 
 8* 
 
82 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Blind and unwitting, do fools die and wise, 
 And I myself may hap to come to die 
 By that I trusted, and like thee to lie 
 Dead ere 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 set them there, and call it by thy name, 
 That thou mayst yet win an undying fame." 
 Then hasted all the men, and in a while, 
 Twixt sea and woodland, raised a mighty pile, 
 And there they burned him, but for spices sweet 
 Could cast thereon but wrack from neath their feet, 
 And wild wood flowers and resin from the pine ; 
 And when the pile grew low, with odorous wine 
 They quenched the ashes, and the king s they set 
 Within a golden vessel, that with fret 
 Of twining boughs and gem-made flowers was wrought 
 That they from Pelias treasure-house had brought. 
 Then, since the sun his high meridian 
 Had left, they pushed into the waters wan, 
 And so, with hoisted sail 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 bent 
 Their daring course, Tiphys arose and said : 
 
 " Heroes, it seems to 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 green 
 
OF JASON. 83 
 
 Are pounded by some witch-wife on the shore 
 Of Pontus, "for these two rocks evermore 
 Each against each are driven, and leave not 
 Across the whole strait such a little spot 
 Safe from the grinding of their mighty blows, 
 As that through which a well-aimed arrow goes 
 When archers for a match 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 they reached not till the moonlit night 
 Was come, and from the shore the wind blew light ; 
 Then they lay to until the dawn, and then 
 Creeping along, found an abode of men 
 That Tiphys knew to be the place they sought. 
 Thereat they shouted, and right quickly brought 
 Fair Argo to the landing-place, and threw 
 Grapnels ashore, and landing forthwith drew 
 Unto the town, seeking Phineus the king. 
 But those they met and asked about this thing 
 Grew pale at naming him, and few words said ; 
 Natheless, they being unto the palace led, 
 And their names told, soon were they bidden in 
 To where the king sat, a man blind and thin, 
 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 rise and fall 
 And the sail bellying, and the glittering oars ; 
 And blessed be the day whereon our shores 
 
84 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 First felt thy footsteps, since across the sea 
 
 My hope and my revenge 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 bring thee any gifts, for, sooth ly, we 
 Sail, desperate men and poor, across the sea." 
 
 Then answered Phineus : " Guest, I know indeed 
 What gift 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 shall ye see how wise a man am I, 
 And how well-skilled to scape from misery." 
 
 Therewith he groaned, and bade his folk to bring 
 Such feast as longed unto a mighty king, 
 And spread the board therewith; who straight obeyed, 
 Trembling and pale, and on the tables laid 
 A royal feast most glorious in show. 
 
 Then said the king : " I give you now to know 
 That the Gods love me not, guests ; therefore, 
 Lest your expected feast be troubled sore, 
 Feast by yourselves alone while I sit here 
 Looking for that which scarcely brings me fear 
 This day, since I so long have suffered it." 
 
 So, wondering at his words, 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 pang, 
 They still felt on them, though no word he said. 
 
 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 things below 
 And things above." 
 
OF JASON. 85 
 
 Then, hearkening to this word, 
 The most of them grew doubtful and afeard 
 Of what should come ; but now unto the board 
 The king was led, and nigh his hand his sword, 
 Two-edged and ivory-hilted, 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, 
 Increasing 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 th n t shore. 
 
 For now, indeed, the trembling Minyffl 
 Beheld the da-ughters of j 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 to spring 
 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 feathered 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 
 
86 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 The wretched king, and one, perched on his head, 
 Laughed as the furies laugh, when kings come down 
 To lead new lives within the fiery town, 
 And said : " Phineus, ihou art lucky now 
 The hidden things of heaven and hell to know ; 
 Eat, happy man, and drink." Then did she draw 
 From off the dish a gobbet with her claw, 
 And held it nigh his mouth, the while he strove 
 To free his arm, that one hovering above, 
 Within her filthy vulture-claws clutched tight, 
 And cried out at him : " Truly, in dark night 
 Thou seest, Phmeus, as the leopard doth." 
 
 Then cried the third : " Fool, who would fain have both 
 Delight and knowledge, therefore with blind eyes 
 Clothe thee in purple, wrought with braveries, 
 And set the pink-veined marble neath thy throne ; 
 Then on its golden cushions sit alone, 
 Hearkening thy chain-galled slaves without singing 
 For joy, that they behold so many a thing." 
 
 Then shrieked the first one in a dreadful voice : 
 " And I, Phineus, bid thee to rejoice, 
 That midst thy knowledge still thou know st not this 
 Whose flesh the lips, 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 shrill delight. 
 
 Now trembling sat the seafarers, nor dared 
 To use the weapons from their sheaths half-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, 
 
OF JASON. 87 
 
 By bis divine art, that the godlike two 
 
 Were armed to help him, then from twixt the wings 
 
 He cried aloud : " 0, heroes, more than kings, 
 
 Strike, and fear not, but set me free to-day, 
 
 That ye within your brazen chests may lay 
 
 The best of all my treasure-house doth hold, 
 
 Fair linen, scarlet cloth, and well-wrought gold." 
 
 Then shrieked the snatchers, knowing certainly 
 That now the time had come when they must fly 
 From pleasant Salmydessa, casting off 
 The joys they had in shameful mock and scoff. 
 So gat they from the blind king, leaving him 
 Pale and forewearied in his every limb ; 
 And, flying through the roof, they set them down 
 Above the hall-doors, mid the timbers brown, 
 Chattering with fury. 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 brazen shields, and swords raised high, 
 But as they flew unlucky words they cried. 
 
 The first said : " Hail, folk who wander wide, 
 Seeking a foolish thing across the sea, 
 Not heeding in what case your houses be, 
 Where now perchance the rovers 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 to meet." 
 
 " Fair hap to him who weds the sorceress," 
 The second cried, " and may the just Gods bless 
 The slayer of his kindred and his name." 
 
 " Luck to the toilsome seeker after fame," 
 The third one from the open hall door cried, 
 " Fare ye well, Jason, still unsatisfied, 
 Still seeking for a better thing than best, 
 
88 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 A fairer thing than fairest, without rest ; 
 Good speed, traitor, who shall think to wed 
 Soft limbs and white, and find thy royal 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 
 Sprung from the North-wind s loins to 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 which 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 flew 
 Before the swift wings of the godlike two 
 Far over land and sea, until they were 
 Anigh the isles called Strophades, 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 out the deep rose up a black-haired man, 
 Who, standing on the white-topped waves that ran 
 On towards the shore, cried : " Heroes, turn again, 
 For on this islet shall ye land in vain, 
 But without sorrow leave the chase of these 
 Who henceforth mid the rocky Strophades 
 Shall dwell for ever, servants unto me, 
 Working my will, therefore rejoice that ye 
 Win gifts and honour for your deed to-day." 
 
OF JASON. 89 
 
 Then, even as he spoke, they saw but grey, 
 White headed waves rolling where he had stood, 
 Whereat they sheathed their swords, and through their blood 
 A tremor ran, for now they knew that he 
 Was Neptune, shaker of the earth and sea ; 
 Therefore they turned them back 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 to feast again, until 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 the 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, 
 And every man and woman blest and fair. 
 
 So, set twixt pleasure and some soft regret, 
 All cares of mortal men did they forget, 
 Except the vague desire not to die, 
 The hopeless wish to flee from certainty, 
 That sights and sounds we love will bring on us 
 In this sweet fleeting world and piteous. 
 
90 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, and goodly robes of price. 
 But chiefly to the wind-born brothers strong 
 Did gifts past telling on that morn belong. 
 
 Now as they stood upon the windy quay, 
 Heady 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 
 Ye come to the horse-nurturing land again ; 
 Natheless, one more gift shall ye have of me, 
 For lacking that, beneath 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 turning, he began to 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-footed dove. 
 
 Then said the king : " The very Gods above 
 Can scantly 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 mouth to-day has heard 
 So many a mystic and compelling word, 
 
OF JASON. 91 
 
 He cannot choose, being loosed, but fly down straight 
 
 Unto the opening of that dreadful gate ; 
 
 So let the keen-eyed watch, and if so be 
 
 He comes out safe into the evil sea, 
 
 Then bend unto 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 will, come back to me, 
 
 And if ye find nought in my treasury 
 
 That ye desire, yet 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 off 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, free from ill, 
 Live happy as thou mayst, and honoured still." 
 
 Then turned he, shouting, to the Minyae, 
 Who o er the gangways rushed tumultuously, 
 And from the land great Argo straightway thrust, 
 And gat them to their work, hot with the lust 
 Of fame and noble deeds, and happy prize. 
 But the bird Lynceus took, unto whose eyes 
 The night was as the day, and fire as air. 
 
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 fair for sailing, quickly left behind 
 Fair Salmydessa, 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 
 From 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 rocks ; 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 Lynceus might 
 Just now and then behold the deep blue, shine 
 Betwixt the scattering of the silver brine ; 
 But sometimes twixt the clouds the sun would pass 
 And show the high rocks glittering like glass, 
 Quivering, as far beneath the churned-up waves 
 Were ground together the strong arched caves, 
 Wherein none dwelt, no, not the giant s brood, 
 Who fed the green sea with his lustful blood, 
 Nor were sea-devils even nurtured there, 
 Nor dared the sea-worm use them for its lair. 
 
 And now the Minyoe, 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 strange fire 
 In Jason s heart, and measureless desire 
 
OF JASON. 93 
 
 To be the first of men, and made his voice 
 
 Clear as that herald 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, above the crash and thundering, 
 
 The Minyae heard his shrill, calm voice, crying : 
 
 " Shall this be, then, an ending to our quest i 
 
 And shall we find the worst, who sought the best? 
 
 Far better had ye sat beside your wives, 
 
 And mid the wine-cups lingered out your lives, 
 
 Dreaming of noble deeds, though trying none, 
 
 Than as vain boasters, with your 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 meted out already what awaits 
 
 The coward and the brave? 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 toward the dashers, and I hold 
 
 The 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 ^Ea 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 
 W hereunto Lynceus set his eager face, 
 And loosed the dove, who down the west wind flew ; 
 
 9* 
 
94 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Then all the others lost her, dashing through 
 The clouds of spray, but Lynceus 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 mazed, and hovered for awhile above 
 The troubled sea, then stooping, darted through, 
 As the blue gleaming 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 sluggishly. 
 
 Then back their poised oars whirled, and straight they 
 
 drave 
 
 Unto the opening of the spray-arched cave ; 
 But Jason s eyes alone, of all the crew, 
 Beheld the sunny sea and cloudless blue, 
 Still narrowing, but bright from rock to rock. 
 
 Now as they neared, came the next thundering shock, 
 That deafened all, and with an icy cloud 
 Hid man from man ; but Jason, shouting loud, 
 Still clutched the tiller ; and the oars, grasped tight 
 By mighty hands, drave on the ship forthright 
 Unto the rocks, until, with blinded eyes, 
 They blinked one moment at those mysteries 
 Unseen before, the next they felt the sun 
 Full on their backs, and knew their deed was done. 
 
 Then on their oars they lay, and Jason turned, 
 And o er the rocks beheld how Iris burned 
 In fair and harmless many-colon rod flame, 
 And he beheld the way by which they came 
 Wide open, changeless, of its spray-clouds cleared ; 
 And though in his bewildered ears he heard 
 The tumult yet, that all was stilled he knew, 
 
OF JASON. 95 
 
 While in and out the unused sea-fowl flew 
 Betwixt them, and the now subsiding sea 
 Lapped round about their dark feet quietly. 
 
 So, turning to the Minyae, 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 feel our country s earth, 
 And twixt 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." 
 
 Then all men, with their eyes now cleared of brine, 
 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 will, then sped along. 
 
 Three days with good hap and fair wind they went, 
 That ever at their backs Queen Juno sent, 
 But on the fourtli day, about noon, they drew 
 Unto a new-built city no man knew ; 
 No, not the pilot ; so they 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 ye be, if that ye come in peace, 
 King Lycus bids you hail, but if from Greece 
 
 
96 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Ye come, and are the folk of whom we hear 
 Who make for Colchis, free from any fear 
 Then doubly welcome are ye, here take land, 
 For everything shall be at your command." 
 
 So without fear they landed at that word, 
 And told him who they were, which when he heard, 
 Through the fair 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 wretch, who could foresee 
 Full many an unknown thing that was to be, 
 And yet not this, whose corpse they burnt with fire 
 Upon a purple-covered spice -strewn pyre, 
 And set his ashes in a marble tomb. 
 Neither could Tiphys there escape his doom, 
 Who, after suffering 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 they beheld 
 For seven days but sea and changeful sky, 
 
OF JASON. 97 
 
 But on the eighth day could Lynceus espy 
 
 A land far off. and nigher as they drew 
 
 A low green shore, backed up by mountains blue, 
 
 Cleft here and there, all saw, twixt hope and fear, 
 
 For now it seemed to them they should be near 
 
 The wished-for goal of .^Ea, and the place 
 
 Where in the great sea Phasis ends his race. 
 
 So, creeping carefully along the beach, 
 The mouth of a green river did they reach, 
 Cleaving the sands, and on the yellow bar 
 The salt waves and the fresh waves were at war, 
 As Phryxus 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 oif the sea 
 Argo s fair head, and rowing mightily 
 Drave her across the bar, who with straight keel 
 The eddying stream against her bows did feel. 
 
 So, with the wind behind them, and the oars 
 Still hard at work, they went 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 sheep, 
 And skin-clad shepherds, roused from 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 case, 
 That on an island builded was the place 
 The more part of it ; but four bridges fair, 
 
98 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Set thick with goodly houses everywhere, 
 Crossed two and two on each side to the land, 
 Whereon was built, with walls on either hand, 
 A towered outwork, lest that war should fall 
 Upon the land, and midmost of each wall 
 A noble gate ; moreover did they note 
 About 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 
 Sound 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 
 Fair fame, the love of Gods, and praise of men ; 
 Be strong and play the man, I bid you then, 
 For certes in none other wise shall ye 
 Come back again to grassy Thessaly." 
 
 Then loud they shouted, clean forgetting fear, 
 And strong Erginus Argo straight did steer 
 On to the port ; but through the crowded waist 
 Han 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 face and limb. 
 
OF JASON. 99 
 
 Now drawing quickly nigh the landing-place, 
 Little by little did they slack their pa.ce, 
 Till half a bowshot from the shore they lay ; 
 Then Jason shouted : " What do ye to-day 
 All armed, warriors ? 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 merchant keel 
 That nears your haven, though perchance it bring 
 Good news, and many a much-desired thing 
 That ye may get good cheap ( and such are we, 
 But wayfarers upon the 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 are 
 
 Desired much by dwellers in all lands ; 
 
 Nor doubt us friends, although indeed our hands 
 
 Lack not for weapons, for the unfenced 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 heaps 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 amidst them, unarmed, with a wan 
 
 And withered face, and black beard mixed with grey 
 
 That swept his girdle, who these words did say : 
 " seafarers, I give 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 ; 
 
100 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Now, since indeed ye folk are but a few, 
 
 We fear you not, yet fain would that we knew 
 
 Your names and countries, since within this town 
 
 Of -ZEa may a good man lay him down 
 
 And fear for nought, at least while I am king, 
 
 .^Eetes, 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 ^Eetes, if not over wide 
 My name is known, that yet may come to be, 
 For I am Jason of the Minyae, 
 And through great perils have I come from Greece ; 
 And now, since this is ./Ea, and the fleece 
 Thou slayedst once a guest to get, hangs up 
 Within thine house, take many a golden cup, 
 And arms, and dyestuffs, 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 price 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 bitter care." 
 
 Then spake ^Eetes : " Not for any word, 
 Or for the glitter of thy bloodless sword, 
 O youngling, will I give the fleece to thee, 
 Nor yet for gifts, for what are such to me? 
 Behold, if all thy folk joined hand to hand, 
 They should not, striving, be enough to stand 
 And girdle round my bursting treasure-house ; 
 Yet, since of this thing thou art amorous, 
 And I love men, and hold the Gods in fear, 
 If thou and thine will land, then mayst thou hear 
 What great things thou must do to win the fleece ; 
 Then, if thou wilt not dare it, go in peace. 
 
OF JASON. 10 1 
 
 But come now, thou shalt hear it amidst wine 
 And lovely things, and songs well-nigh divine, 
 And all the feasts that thou hast shared erewhile 
 With other kings, to mine shall be but vile. 
 Lest thou shouldst name me, coming to thy land, 
 A poor guest-fearing man, of niggard hand." 
 
 So spake he outwardly, but inly thought, 
 " Within two days this lading shall be brought 
 To lie amongst my treasures with the best, 
 While neath the earth these robbers lie at rest." 
 
 But Jason said : " King, if these things be such 
 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 for nought 
 Such lives as ours by none are lightly bought. 
 
 " Draw on, heroes, to 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, less 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 ; 
 Natheless, 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 these thoughts, between the fair streets led, 
 He noted well the size and goodly head 
 Of all the houses, and the folk well clad. 
 And armed as though good store of wealth they had, 
 Peering upon them with a wondering gaze. 
 10 
 
102 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 At last a temple, built in ancient days 
 
 Ere JEtti was a town, they came unto ; 
 
 Huge was it, but not fair unto the view 
 
 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 houses, rose majestically 
 jEetes marble house : silent it stood, 
 Brushed round by doves, though many a stream of blood 
 Had trickled o er its stones since it was built, 
 But now, unconscious of all woe and guilt, 
 It drank the sunlight that fair afternoon. 
 
 Then spake .ZEetes : " Stranger, thou shalt soon 
 Hear all thou wouldst bear in my house of gold ; 
 Yet ere thou enterest the door, behold 
 That ancient temple of the Far Darter, 
 And know that thy desire hangeth there, 
 Against the gold wall of the inmost shrine, 
 Guarded by seven locks, whose keys 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 part, 
 Nor look to see me turn back faint 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, King, thy house is fair, 
 
OF JASON. 103 
 
 And here I think to see full many a thing 
 
 Men love ; so, whatso the next 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 things to make the heart grow hot 
 With joy and longing." 
 
 As he spoke, within 
 
 Blew up the horns, as when a king 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 entered, and the Minyse did stand 
 In such a hall as there has never been 
 Before or afterwards, since Ops was queen. 
 
 The pillars, made the mighty roof to hold, 
 The one was silver arid the next was gold, 
 All down the hall ; the roof, of some strange wood 
 Brought over sea, was dyed as red as blood, 
 Set thick with silver flowers, and delight 
 Of intertwining figures wrought aright. 
 With richest webs the marble walls were hung, 
 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 crags and mountains ; 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 
 
104 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 O er wondrous gem-like pebbles, green and brown, 
 Betwixt smooth banks of marble, and therein 
 Bright-coloured fish shone through the water thin. 
 
 Now midst these wonders were there tables spread. 
 Whither the wondering seafarers were led, 
 And there with meat and drink full delicate 
 Were feasted, and strange dainty things they ate, 
 Of unused savour, and drank godlike wine ; 
 While from the golden galleries, divine, 
 Heart-softening music breathed about the place ; 
 And twixt 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 Minyse there, and for their parts 
 Few words 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 VII. 
 
 SO long they sat, until at last the sun 
 Sank in the sea, and noisy day was done. 
 Then bade .ZEetes light the place, that they 
 Might turn grim-looking night into the day; 
 Whereon, the scented torches being brought, 
 As men with shaded eyes the shadows sought, 
 Turning to Jason, spake the king these words : 
 
 " Dost thou now wonder, guest, that with sharp swords 
 And mailed breasts of men 1 fence myself, 
 
OF JASON. 105 
 
 Not as a pedlar guarding his poor pelf, 
 
 Bat as a God shutting 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 foreshowings of the oracle, 
 
 And thus they warn me. Therefore shalt thou hear 
 
 What well may fill a hero s heart with fear ; 
 
 But not from my old lips ; that thou mayst have, 
 
 Whether thy life thou here wilt spill or save, 
 
 At least one joy before thou comest to die : 
 
 Ho, ye, bid in my lady presently ! " 
 
 But Jason, wondering what should come of this, 
 With heart well steeled to suffer woe or bliss, 
 Sat waiting, while within the music ceased, 
 But from without a strain rose and increased, 
 Till shrill and clear it drew anigh the hall, 
 But silent at the entry did it fall ; 
 And througli the place there was no other sound 
 But falling of light footsteps on the ground, 
 For at the door a band 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 ? " 
 
 " daughter," said ^Eetes, " tell aright 
 Unto this king s son here, who is my guest, 
 What things be must accomplish, ere his quest 
 Is finished, who has come this day to seek 
 The golden fell brought hither by the Greek, 
 The son of Athamas, the unlucky king, 
 
 10* 
 
106 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 That he may know at last for what a thing 
 He left the meadowy land and peaceful stead." 
 
 Then she to Jason turned her golden head, 
 And reaching out her lovely arm, took up 
 From off the board a rich fair-jewelled cup, 
 And said : " Prince, these hard things must ye do : 
 First, going to their stall, bring out the two 
 Great brazen bulls, the king my father feeds 
 On grass of Pontus and strange-nurtured seeds ; 
 Nor heed what they may do, but take the plough 
 That in their stall stands ever bright enow, 
 And on their gleaming necks cast thou the yoke, 
 And drive them as thou mayst, with cry and stroke, 
 Through the grey acre of the God of War. 
 
 " Then, when turned up the long straight furrows are, 
 Take thou the sack that holds the serpent s teeth 
 Our fathers slew upon the sunless heath ; 
 There sow those evil seeds, and bide thou there 
 Till they send forth a strange crop, nothing fair, 
 Which garner thou, if thou canst scape from death. 
 
 " But if thereafter still thou drawest breath, 
 Then shalt thou have the seven keys of the shrine 
 Wherein the beast s fair golden locks 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 tight, 
 Or knowest arts to tame him, do thy worst, 
 Nor, carrying oft 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 
 
OF JASON. 107 
 
 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 his 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 his grey eyes, on fire 
 With that that burned her, then with sweet new shame 
 Her fair 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 drink 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 his 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 Minyse 
 Shouted for joy his godlike face to see. 
 But she, departing, 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 blind by fate. 
 
io8 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 into 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, from the city being gone apace, 
 Turning the boat s head, did she near a space, 
 Where, 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 fast. 
 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 her yellow hair 
 And let it float about her, and made bare 
 Her shoulder and right arm, and, kneeling down, 
 Drew off her shoes, and girded up her gown, 
 And in the river washed her silver feet 
 And trembling hands, arid 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 ; 
 
OF JASON. 109 
 
 At last an open space she came unto, 
 Where the faint glimmering starlight, shining through, 
 Showed in the midst a circle of smooth grass, 
 Through which, from dark to dark, a stream did pass, 
 And all around was darkness like a wall. 
 
 So, kneeling there, she let the wallet fall, 
 And from it drew a bundle of strange wood 
 Wound all about with strings as red as blood ; 
 Then breaking these, into a little pyre 
 The twigs she built, and swiftly kindling fire, 
 Set it alight, and 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 caught-up gown 
 Much herbs she had, and on her head a crown 
 Of dank night-flowering grasses, known to few. 
 
 But, casting down the mystic herbs, she drew 
 From out her wallet a bowl polished bright, 
 Brazen, and wrought with figures black and white, 
 Which from the stream she filled with water thin, 
 And, kneeling by the fire, 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, 
 
no THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Unto her fragrant breast her hand she set, 
 
 And drew therefrom a bag of silken fret, 
 
 And into her right palm she gently shook 
 
 Three grains of something small that had the look 
 
 Of millet 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 misliketh thee ? 
 What crown but thine is on mine unbound hair, 
 What jewel on mine arms, or have I care 
 Against the flinty windings of thy wood 
 To guard my feet ? or have I thought it good 
 To come before thee with unwashen hands? 
 
 " And this my raiment : Goddess, from three lands 
 The fleeces it was woven with were brought 
 Where deeds of thine in ancient days were wrought, 
 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 the moonrise the close web begun, 
 And finished at the dawning of the light. 
 
 " Nought hides me from the unseen eyes of night 
 But this alone : what dost thou then to me, 
 That at my need rny flame sinks wretchedly, 
 And all is vain I do ? Ah, is it so 
 
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? 
 For never was I vowed to thee alone, 
 Nor didst thou bid me take the tight-drawn zone, 
 And follow through the twilight of the trees 
 The glancing limbs of trim-shod huntresses. 
 Therefore, look down upon me, and see now 
 These grains of what thou knowest, I will throw 
 Upon the flame, and then, if at my need 
 Thou still wilt help me, help ; but 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 ; but when the Three-formed heard 
 From out her trembling lips that impious word, 
 She granted all her asking, though she knew 
 What evil road Medea hurried to 
 She fain had barred against 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 wildering to the sight ; 
 Which when she saw, the vessel 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, 
 
H2 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And when she drew it out she thrust the same 
 Amidst the fire, but neither coal or flame 
 The tender rosy 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 
 bhe drew out from the wallet, and straightway 
 Stopping the mouth, in its own place did lay 
 The well-wrought phial, girding to her side 
 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 white 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 
 Against the yew wood of the Goddess set. 
 
 But she, swept onward by the hurrying 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 notes and clear 
 Of waking cocks, and twittering from the sedge 
 Of restless birds about the river s edge ; 
 And when she drew within the city walls, 
 She heard the hollow sound of rare footfalls 
 
OF JASON. 113 
 
 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 water-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 to Jason s chamber door she came. 
 
 And there awhile indeed she stayed, for shame 
 Rose up against her fear ; but mighty love 
 And the sea-haunting rose-crowned seed of Jove 
 Overmastered 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 gloom, 
 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 her hand upon his breast, 
 And said : "0 Jason, wake up from thy rest, 
 Perchance from thy last rest, and speak to me." 
 
 Then fell his light sleep from him 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 her visage fair, 
 She whispered : " Smite not, for thou hast no sword, 
 11 
 
H4 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Speak not above thy breath, for one loud word 
 May slay both thee and me. Day grows apace ; 
 What day thou knowest ! Canst thou see my 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, 
 Who 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 touched 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 death, 
 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 fruitless 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 crystal without flaw 
 Shaped like an apple, scored with words about, 
 Then said : " But now I bid thee have no doubt. 
 With this oil hidden by these gems and gold 
 Anoint thine arms and body, and be bold, 
 Nor fear the fire-breathing bulls one whit, 
 Such mighty virtue have I drawn to it, 
 Whereof I give thee proof." Therewith her hand 
 She thrust into the lamp-flame that did stand 
 Anigh the bed, and showed it him no-aiii 
 Unscarred by any wound or drawn with pain. 
 
OF JASON. 115 
 
 Then said : " Now, when Mars plain is ploughed at last, 
 
 And in the furrows those ill seeds are cast, 
 
 Take thou this ball in hand and watch the thing ; 
 
 Then shalt thou see a horrid crop upspring 
 
 Of all-armed men therefrom to be thy bane, 
 
 Were I not here to make their fury vain. 
 
 Draw not thy sword against them as they rise, 
 
 But cast this ball 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 his 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 guard 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 fire ? 
 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 
 Heal fire of pine-wood in some rocky place, 
 Wreathing around my body greedily, 
 A dreadful beacon o er the leaden sea." 
 
 But Jason drew her to him, and he said : 
 " Nay, by these tender hands and golden head, 
 That saving things for me have wrought to-night, 
 
Ii6 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 I know not what ; by this unseen delight 
 Of thy fair body, may I rather burn, 
 Nor may the flame die ever if I turn 
 Back to my hollow 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. 
 
 " W 7 hat wouldst thou ? Wilt thou go from me ? The light 
 Is grey and tender yet, and in your land 
 Surely the twilight, lingering long, doth stand 
 Twixt dawn and day." 
 
 " Prince," she said, " I came 
 To save your life. I cast off fear and shame 
 A little while, but fear and shame are here. 
 The hand thou boldest trembles with my fear, 
 With shame my 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 shalt see me, watching out the play." 
 
 Therewith she drew off from him, and was gone, 
 And in the chamber Jason left alone, 
 Praising 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 him 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 neck he hung the spell 
 Against the earth-born, the fair crystal ball 
 Laid in a purse, and then from wall to wall, 
 
OF JASON. H7 
 
 Athwart the chamber paced full eagerly, 
 Expecting when the fateful time should be. 
 
 Meanwhile, Medea coming to her room 
 Unseen, lit up the slowly parting gloom 
 With scented torches : then bound up her hair, 
 And stripped the dark gown from her body fair, 
 And laid 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 hers 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 coverlit, 
 And o er her face faint 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 sluggish air of that hot day, 
 For fain the king would be upon his way. 
 Then straight she called her maidens, who forthright 
 Did 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 Jason and his folk were standing by, 
 11* 
 
n8 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Now was ^Eetes saying : " Minyas, 
 And you, my people, who are here by me, 
 Take heed, that by his wilful act to-day 
 This man will perish, neither will I slay 
 One man among you. Nay, Prince, if you will, 
 A safe return I give unto you still." 
 
 But Jason answered, smiling in his joy : 
 " Once more, JEetes, nay. Against this toy 
 My life is pledged, let all go to the end." 
 Then, lifting up his eyes, he saw his friend, 
 Made fresh, and lovelier 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 fall, fall ! 
 Since time it is that we were on the way ; 
 And thou, daughter, shalt be there to-day, 
 And see thy father 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 Colchians a mighty shout, 
 And doubtful grew the Minyse of the end, 
 Unwitting who on that day was their friend. 
 But down the hall the king passed, who did hold 
 Medea s hand, and on a car of gold 
 They mounted, drawn anigh the carven door, 
 And spearmen of the Colchians went before 
 And followed after, and the Minyae 
 Set close together followed solemnly, 
 Headed by Jason, at the heels 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 came, where there were dight 
 Long galleries about the fateful stead, 
 Built all of marble fair and roofed with lead, 
 
OF JASON. H9 
 
 And carved about with stories of old time, 
 And all around them golden lines of rhyme. 
 Moreover, midmost was an image made 
 Of mighty Mars who maketh kings afraid, 
 That looked down on an altar builded fair, 
 Wherefrom already did a fire glare 
 And made the hot air glassy with its heat. 
 So in the gallery did the king take seat 
 With fair Medea, and the Colchians stood 
 Hedging the twain in with a mighty wood 
 Of spears and axes, while the Minyae 
 Stood off a space the fated things to see. 
 
 Ugly and rugged was that spot of ground, 
 And with an iron wall was closed around, 
 And at the farther 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 the seafaring 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 wrought, 
 
 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. 
 
120 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Now King ^Eetes well beholding him, 
 Fearless of mien and so unmatched of limb, 
 Trembled a little in his heart as now 
 He bade the horn-blowers the challenge blow, 
 But thought, What strength can help him, or what heart, 
 Or which of all the Gods be on his part V 
 Impious, who knew not through what doubtful days, 
 E en from his birth, and perilous rough ways, 
 Juno had brought him safely, nor indeed 
 Of his own daughter s quivering lips took heed, 
 And restless hands wherein the God so wrought, 
 The wise man seeing her had known her thought. 
 
 Now Jason, when he heard the challenge blow, 
 Across the evil fallow 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 the glowing wicket open wide. 
 
 But he alone, apart from his desire, 
 Stood unarmed, facing those two founts of fire, 
 Yet feared not aught, for hope and fear were dead 
 Within his 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, 
 
OF JASON. 121 
 
 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 trembling mariners behold it cast ; 
 
 But still to right and left of him it passed, 
 
 Breaking upon him as cool water might, 
 
 Nor harming more, except that from his sight 
 
 All corners of the cage were hidden now, 
 
 Nor knew he where to seek the brazen plough ; 
 
 As to 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 light 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 he brought 
 Unto the door, nor found the Goddess there. 
 
 Who in the likeness of a damsel fair, 
 Colchian Metharma, through the spearmen passed, 
 Bearing them wine, and causeless terror cast 
 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, 
 
122 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And drove them now with shouts out through the door 
 Which in such guise ne er had they passed before, 
 For never were they made the earth to till, 
 But rather, feeding fat, 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 had sucked. 
 
 Now in the open field did Jason stand 
 And to the plough-stilts set his unused hand, 
 And down betwixt them lustily he bent ; 
 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 mayst thou make me shepherd, too, to thee ; 
 Nor doubt thou, doing so, from out thy flock 
 To lose but one, who 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 Euboea, and this fire 
 Of the fair altar 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 sulphurous smoke, 
 And showed the lengthening furrow cutting through 
 The ugly fallow as anigh they drew, 
 The joyful Minya3 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? 
 
OF JASON. 123 
 
 Whoso it is, wise were he now to die 
 
 Ere yet I know him, since for many a day 
 
 Vainly for death I hope to hear him pray." 
 
 Meanwhile, askance Medea eyed the king, 
 Thinking nought safe until that everything 
 Was finished in the Colchian land, and she 
 No more beheld 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 stammering, she said : " Were it not best 
 To give him that which he must have at last, 
 Before he slays us ?" But .ZEetes cast 
 A sharp glance at her, and a pang shot through 
 His weary heart as half the truth he knew. 
 But for one moment, as he made reply 
 In passionate words : " Then, daughter, let me die ! 
 And, ere I die, beheld thee led along 
 A wretched slave to suffer grief and wrong 
 In far off lands, and .ZEa at thy back 
 Nought but a huge flame hiding woe and wrack, 
 Before from out my willing 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 are hot 
 On tender maidens he must be a God ? 
 Or that because firmly this field he trod 
 Well-fenced with magic V Were he like to me, 
 Grey-haired and lean, what Godhead wouldst thou see 
 In such an one ? Hold, then, thy peace of this, 
 
124 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And thou shalt 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 face ; as in the autumn eve, 
 Just as the sun s last half begins to leave 
 The shivering world, both east and west are red. 
 But calm and pale she turned about her head, 
 And said : " My father, neither were these words 
 My words, nor would I struggle with my lords ; 
 Thou art full wise ; whatso thine heart would have 
 That do, and heed me not, who fain would save 
 This glory of thy kingdom and of thee. 
 But now look up, and soothly thou shalt see 
 Mars acre tilled : the field is ready then, 
 Bid them bring forth the seed that beareth 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 his hold 
 Upon the plough-stilts, all the bellowing 
 Wherewith the beasts bad made the grim close rinjr, 
 Fell suddenly, and all the fire died 
 That they were wont erewhile to scatter wide 
 From mouth and nostril, and their loins and knees 
 Stiffened, and they grew nought but images 
 Lifelike but lifeless, wonderful but dead, 
 Such as he makes, who many a day hath fed 
 His furnace with the beech wood, when the clay 
 Has grown beneath his deft hands day by day 
 
OF JASON. 125 
 
 And all is ready for the casting, then 
 
 Such things as these he makes for royal men. 
 
 But mid the shouts turned Jason to the king, 
 And said : " Fair 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 they gave, if so the thing must be. 
 But do thou take this sack from out my hand 
 And cast 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 
 The white teeth scattering, but or ere he came 
 Back to the altar, and the flickering flame, 
 He heard from neath the earth a muttered sound 
 That grew and grew, till all that piece of ground 
 Swelled into little hillocks, like as where 
 A stricken field was foughten, but that there 
 Quiet the heroes bones 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 
 . - 12 
 
126 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Changed into loud strange shouts and warlike clang, 
 As with freed feet at last the earth-born 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 staring face, 
 With great wide eyes, and lips in a set smile, 
 Turned full on Jason, who, for a short while, 
 Forgot indeed Medea s warning word, 
 And from its golden sheath half drew his sword, 
 But then, remembering all, cried valiantly : 
 " New born ye are new slain too shall ye be, 
 Take this, and round about it read your doom, 
 And bid them make new dwellings in the tomb, 
 Wherefrom ye came, nor ever should have passed." 
 
 Therewith the ball among the host he cast, 
 Standing to watch what next that folk would do. 
 But he the ball had smitten turned unto 
 The one who stood by him, and like a cup 
 Shattered his head ; then the next 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 his time has come to die, 
 But passionless each bore him in that fight, 
 Scarce otherwise than as a smith might smite 
 On sounding iron or bright glittering brass. 
 
 So, little by little, did the clamour pass 
 As one by one each fell down in his place, 
 
OF JASON. 127 
 
 Until at last, midmost the bloody space, 
 One man was left, alive but wounded sore, 
 Who, staring round about and seeing no more 
 His brothers spears against him, fixed his eyes 
 Upon the queller of those mysteries. 
 Then dreadfully they gleamed, and with no word, 
 He tottered towards him with uplifted sword. 
 But scarce he made three paces down the field, 
 Ere chill death reached his heart, and on his shield 
 Clattering he fell. So satiate of fight 
 Quickly the earth-born were, and their delight 
 With what it fed on perished, and one hour 
 Ripened the deadly fruit of that fell flower. 
 
 Then Jason, mocking, cried unto the king : 
 " wonderful, indeed, must be the thing 
 Thou 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 Petes 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 he spake out at last : 
 " No haste, dear guest, for surely now is passed 
 All enmity from twixt us, since I know 
 How like a God 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 from strife. 
 And now to-night be merry, and let time 
 Be clean forgotten, and bring Saturn s clime 
 And golden days upon our flower-crowned brows, 
 For of the unseen future what man knows? " 
 
128 THE LIFE A AD DEATH 
 
 " King," said Jason, " for these words I praise 
 Thy wisdom much, and wish thee happy days. 
 And I will give thee honour as I can, 
 Naming thee ever as a noble man 
 Through all the lands I come to : and will take 
 Thy gifts, indeed, and thou, for Jason s sake, 
 Shalt have gifts too, whatso thy soul may wish, 
 From out our keel that has escaped the fish." 
 
 So spake those 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 soft pace, 
 In guise of folk that hold high festival, 
 Since straightly had jEetes 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 heed 
 Of what might come, and ready be at need, 
 Nor yet to take ^Eetes 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 hounds 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 certainly : but should death come 
 Upon me in this land, then turn back home, 
 Nor wait till they shall by your bones with mine, 
 
OF JASON. 129 
 
 Since now I think to go unto the shrine, 
 The while ye wait, and take therefrom the fleece, 
 Not all unholpen, and depart in peace, 
 While yet the barbarous king beholds us dead 
 In dreams alone, or through his waking head 
 The vile plots chase each other for our death." 
 
 These things he said, but scarce above his breath, 
 Unto wise Nestor, who beside him went, 
 Who unto Butes straight the message sent, 
 And he to Phlias, so the words at last 
 Throughout the wondering seafarers had passed, 
 And so were all made ready for the night. 
 
 But on that eve, with manifold delight, 
 ^Eetes feasted them in his fair hall ; 
 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, 
 Scarce doubtful of the end, since only two 
 In all the world, she and ^Eetes, knew 
 Where the keys were, far from the light of day, 
 Beneath the palace. So, in garments grey, 
 Like the soft creeping twilight did she go, 
 Until she reached a passage far below 
 The river, past whose oozing walls of stone 
 She and the king alone had ever gone. 
 
 Now she, who thus far had come through the dark, 
 Stopped, and in haste striking a little spark 
 From something 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 through made haste to pass, 
 12* 
 
130 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Shuddering a little, as her feet gan tread 
 Upon a dank cold floor, though overhead 
 High-arched the place was, fairly built enow. 
 
 But she across the slippery floor did go 
 Unto the other wall, wherein was built 
 A little aumbrye, with a door o er-gilt, 
 That with the story of King Athamas, 
 And Phryxus, and the rain all carven was. 
 There did she draw forth from her balmy breast 
 A yellow flowering herb, that straight she pressed 
 Upon the lock, low muttering the while ; 
 But soon across her face there passed a smile, 
 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 ke}s with sere-cloth done about. 
 Then through the dreary door did she pass out, 
 And made it fast, and went her way once more 
 Through the black darkness on from floor to floor. 
 
 And so, being come to Jason, him she found 
 All armed, and ready ; therefore, with no sound, 
 She beckoned him to follow, and the twain 
 Passed through the brazen 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 face ; for, gladsome as they were, 
 Trembling with joy to be at last so near 
 The wishcd-for day, some God yet seemed to be 
 Twixt the hard past and their felicity. 
 
OF JASON. 131 
 
 BOOK IX. 
 
 BUT when they reached the precinct of the God, 
 And on the hallowed turf their feet now trod, 
 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 have 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 mayst somewhat think of this, 
 And twixt thy new-found kisses, and the bliss 
 Of something sweeter than thine old delight, 
 Remember thee a little of this night 
 Of marvels, and this starlit, silent place, 
 And these two lovers standing face to face." 
 
 " love," he said, " by what thing shall I swear, 
 That while I live thou shalt not be less dear 
 Than thou art now?" 
 
 " Nay, sweet," she said, let be ; 
 Wert thou more fickle than the restless sea, 
 Still should I love thee, knowing thee 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. me but 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 sets me free, and sniff the rough salt seas. 
 
132 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Look ! yonder thou mayst see armed shadows steal 
 
 Down to the quays, the guiders of thy keel ; 
 
 Now follow me, though little shalt thou do 
 
 To gain this thing, if Hecate be true 
 
 Unto her servant. Nay, draw not thy sword, 
 
 And, for thy life, speak not a single w< rd 
 
 Until I bid thee, else may all be lost, 
 
 And of this game our lives yet pay the cost." 
 
 Then toward the brazen temple-door she went, 
 Wherefrom, half-open, a faint gleam was sent; 
 For little need of lock it had forsooth, 
 Because its sleepless guardian 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, though his restless, glittering eyes 
 Gave unto them no least hope of surprise. 
 Hideous he was, where all things else were fair ; 
 Dull-skinned, foul-spotted, with lank rusty hair 
 About his neck ; and hooked yellow claws 
 Just showed from neath his belly and huge jaws, 
 Closed in the hideous semblance of a smile. 
 Then Jason shuddered, wondering with what wile 
 That 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 that 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 delicious things ; 
 
OF JASON. 133 
 
 But now she beckoned Jason to her side, 
 
 For slowly towards them gan the beast to glide, 
 
 And when close to his love the hero came, 
 
 She whispered breathlessly : " On me the blame 
 
 If here we perish ; if I give the word, 
 
 Then know that all is lost, and draw thy sword, 
 
 And manlike die in battle with the beast ; 
 
 So dying slialt thou fail to see at least 
 
 This body thou desiredst so to see, 
 
 In thy despite here mangled wretchedly. 
 
 Peace j for he cometh, thou Goddess bright, 
 
 What help wilt thou be unto me this night V " 
 
 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 ring. 
 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 : 
 
 " evil thing, what brought thee here 
 To be a wonder and a fear 
 Unto the river-haunting folk ? 
 W T as it the God of Day that broke 
 The shadow of thy windless trees, 
 Gleaming from golden palaces, 
 And shod with light, and armed with light, 
 Made thy slime stone, and day thy night, 
 And drove thee forth unwillingly 
 Within his golden house to lie V 
 
 " Or was it the slim messenger, 
 Who, treading softly, free from fear, 
 Beguiled thee with his smiling face 
 From out thy dim abiding place, 
 
134 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 To follow him and set thee down 
 Midst of this twice-washed royal town ? 
 
 " Or was it rather the dread Lord 
 Who slayeth without spear or sword, 
 And with the flower-culling maid 
 Of Enna, dwelleth in the shade, 
 Who, with stern voice compelling thec, 
 Hath 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, but 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 makes afraid 
 With shimmering of her silver bow 
 And dreadful arrows ? Even so 
 I bid thee now to yield to me, 
 Her maid, who overmastered thee, 
 The three-formed dreadful one who reigns 
 In heaven and the fiery plains, 
 But on the green earth best of all. 
 
 " Lo, now thine upraised crest let fall, 
 Relax thy limbs, let both thine eyes 
 Be closed, and bestial fantasies 
 Fill thy dull head till dawn of day 
 And we are far upon our way." 
 
 As thus she sung the beast seemed not to hear 
 Her words at first, but ever drew anear, 
 Circling about them, and Medea s face 
 
OF JASON. 135 
 
 Grew pale unto the lips, though still the place 
 Hung with the piercing sweetness of her song ; 
 But slower soon he dragged his length along, 
 And on his limbs he tottered, till at last 
 All feebly by the wondering prince 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 keys ; haste ! while the Gods above 
 Are friendly to us ; there behold the shrine 
 Where 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 be nigh." 
 
 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 bird 
 We hearken when the night is come in June, 
 And thick-leaved woods are twixt us and his tune. 
 
 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 the heavenly one. 
 Such art therein the cunningest of men 
 Had used, which little Jason heeded then, 
 
136 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 But thrusting in the lock the smallest key 
 
 Of those he bore, it opened easily ; 
 
 And then five others, neither wrought of gold, 
 
 Or carved with tales, or lovely to behold, 
 
 He opened ; but before the last one stayed 
 
 His hand, wherein the heavy key he weighed, 
 
 And pondering, in low muttered words he said : 
 
 " The prize is reached, which yet I somewhat dread 
 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 cliffs and the beechen 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 quickener of the fight, 
 Named by a great name a far-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 stretched his hands 
 Out toward the sea-born wonder of all lands, 
 And buried them deep in the locks of gold, 
 Grasping the fleece within his mighty hold. 
 
 Which when Medea saw, her gown of grey 
 She caught up from the ground, and drew away 
 Her wearied foot from oft" 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 grey mantle laid 
 Over the fleece, whispering : " Make no delay ; 
 
OF JASON. 137 
 
 lie sleeps, who never slept by night or day 
 
 Till now ; nor will his charmed sleep be long. 
 
 Light-foot am I, and sure thine arms are strong ; 
 
 Haste, then ! No word ! nor turn about to gaze 
 
 At me, 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 black against the stars : then cautiously 
 Peered Jason forth, ere they took heart to try 
 The open starlit place ; but nought he saw 
 Except the night-wind twitching the loose straw 
 From half-unloaded keels, and nought he heard 
 But the strange twittering of a caged green bird 
 Within an Indian ship, and from the hill 
 A distant baying : yea, all was so still ; 
 Somewhat they doubted, natheless forth they passed, 
 And Argo s painted sides they reached at last. 
 
 On whom down-looking, scarce more noise they heard 
 Than from the other ships, some muttered word, 
 Some creaking of the timbers, as the tide 
 Ran gurgling seaward past her shielded side. 
 Then Jason knelt, and whispered : " Wise be ye, 
 fair companions on the pathless sea, 
 But come, Erginus, Nestor, and ye twain 
 Of Lacedgemon, to behold my gain ; 
 Take me amongst you, neither be afraid 
 To take withal this gold, and this fair maid. 
 Yare ! for the ebb runs strongly towards the sea, 
 The east wind drives the rack to Thessaly, 
 
 13 
 
138 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And lightly do such kings as this one sleep 
 
 If now and then small watch their servants keep." 
 
 Then saw Medea men like shadows grey 
 Rise from the darksome decks, who took straightway 
 With murmured joy, from Jason s outstretched hands, 
 The conquered fleece, the wonder of all lands, 
 While with strong arms he took 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 reck 
 That loudly clanged his armour therewithal. 
 
 But, turning townward, did Medea call : 
 " noble Jason, and ye heroes strong, 
 To sea, to sea ! nor pray ye loiter long 
 For surely shall ye see the beacons flare 
 Ere in mid stream ye are, and running fair 
 On toward the sea with tide, and oar, and sail. 
 My father wakes, nor bides 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, and the long oars dipped 
 As from the quays the heroes pushed away, 
 And in the loosened sail the wind 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, Colchian folk ! " 
 And all about the blare of -horns outbroke, 
 As watch-tower answered watch-tower down the stream, 
 Where far below they saw the bale-fires gleam ; 
 And galloping of horses now they heard, 
 And clang of arms, and cries of men afeard, 
 
OF JASON. 139 
 
 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 breaking oars 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 twixt 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 tell 
 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 : 
 
 1 surely, now the fisherman 
 Draws homeward through the water wan 
 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 daily toil and dreary head. 
 
 " And midst them all, perchance, my love 
 Is waking, and doth gently move 
 And stretch her soft arms out to me, 
 Forgetting thousand leagues of sea ; 
 
140 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And now her body I behold, 
 
 Unhidden but by hair of gold, 
 
 And now the silver water kiss, 
 
 The crown of all delight and bliss. 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 So sung he joyously, nor knew that they 
 Must wander 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, dreadful Gods, 
 And now upon her father, and the 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 she her wretched self behold, 
 Led helpless through some old familiar place, 
 With none to turn on her a pitying 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, 
 
OF JASON. 141 
 
 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 happy hours. 
 
 Now swift beneath the oar-strokes Argo flew, 
 While the sun rose behind them, and they drew 
 Unto the river s mouth, nor failed to see 
 Absyrtus galley waiting watchfully 
 Betwixt them and the white-topped 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 the prow gat Jason, and the inaid 
 Must needs be with him, though right sore afraid, 
 As nearing now the Colchian ship, they hung 
 On balanced oars; but the wild Areas strung 
 His deadly bow, and clomb into the top. 
 
 Then Jason cried : " Absyrtus, will ye stop 
 Our peaceful keel, or let us take the sea ? 
 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 : " seafarers, 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, my heart thrills 
 With wrath indeed ; and hearken for what cause, 
 That ye against all friendship and good laws 
 Bear off my sister with you ; wherefore now 
 Mars give you courage and a brazen brow ! 
 
 13* 
 
I4 2 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 That ye may try this dangerous pass in vain, 
 For sootbly, of your slaughter am I fain." 
 
 Then Jason wrathfully threw up his head, 
 But ere the shout came, fair Medea said, 
 In trembling whisper thrilling through his ear : 
 
 " Haste, quick upon them ! if before is fear, 
 Behind is death ! " 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 cry 
 Back flew the balanced oars full orderly, 
 And toward the doomed ship mighty Argo passed ; 
 Thereon Absyrtus shouted loud, and cast 
 His spear at Jason, that before his feet 
 Stuck in the deck ; then out the arrows fleet 
 Burst from the Colchians ; and scarce did they spare 
 Medea s trembling side and bosom fair ; 
 But Jason, roaring as the lioness 
 When round her helpless whelps the hunters press, 
 Whirled round his head his mighty brass-bound spear, 
 That, flying, smote the Prince beneath the ear, 
 As Areas arrow sunk into his side. 
 Then falling, scarce he met the rushing tide, 
 Ere Argo s mighty prow had thrust apart 
 The huddled oars, and through the fair ship s heart 
 Had thrust her iron beak, then the green wave 
 Rushed in as rush the waters through a cave 
 That tunnels half a sea-girt lonely 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 ; 
 Thru at the following ship threw back a shout, 
 And seaward o er the bar drave Argo out. 
 
 Then joyful felt all men as now at last 
 From hill to green hill of the sea they passed ; 
 
OF JASON. 143 
 
 But chiefly joyed Medea, as now grew 
 
 The Colchian 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 brought 
 
 Besides the maid, nor for his kingdom cared, 
 
 As on her beauty with wet eyes he stared, 
 
 And heard her sweet voice soft as in a dream, 
 
 When all seems gained, and trouble 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, 
 Red with a brother s blood, where long was stayed 
 The 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 that fleets away. 
 
 BOOK X. 
 
 NIGHT came, but still on by the stars they sailed 
 Before the wind, till at the dawn 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 fell, 
 And Lynceus, looking back, no more beheld 
 The galley that so long the chase had held. 
 Then were all glad, and toiled on at the oar, 
 When now the drooping soils would help no more. 
 
144 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 But soon before their way it seemed as though 
 A curtain hung they needs must journey through, 
 A low black mist so brooded o er the sea. 
 Then did they hold their hands, but presently, 
 Moving to meet them, did it hide from sight 
 The dog-vane and the maintop gilded bright, 
 Yea in heart-chilling 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 hand, 
 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 
 Anigh the Mysian shore ; and now it said : 
 
 " heroes, wherefore haste ye to be dead ? 
 Behold, while through the heart of yonder fog 
 I, Argo, drifted as an unsteered log, 
 ^Eetes passed us going towards the straits, 
 And now is lying ready by the gates ; 
 Nor with one ship alone, but with ten keels, 
 liaised from his subject kings and commonweals, 
 Abides your coming, hoping soon to 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 ^Ea unavenged may burn. 
 
OF JASON. 145 
 
 "But now the Gods, taking your swift return 
 Away from you, yet 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 mouth 
 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 father s sister, lady, at whose hands 
 Of late-wrought guilt shall ye be purified. 
 
 "And so, by many troubles being tried, 
 Unto lolchos shall ye all come back 
 Except some few j nor there find any lack 
 Of much-desired wealth and babbling praise, 
 And so each man depart unto such days 
 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 bars, beholding 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 fair lolchos that same afternoon. 
 
146 THE LIFE AND 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 dreariment ! 
 
 But as his fellows, speechless and amazed, 
 Upon the weary sea so stood and gazed, 
 Spake Jason to them : " Heroes, tell me where 
 Your hearts are gone, since helpless thus ye stare 
 On that which helpeth not ? in no such wise 
 A while ago, before ^Eetes eyes 
 Ye smote the Colchian ship ; with other heart 
 Ye drave the dark blue dashers far apart ; 
 No eyes I saw like these upon the day, 
 When with the Colchian spears on every way, 
 Unto Mars acre on a doubtful 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, 
 When 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 fain to save, 
 Sits pleasureless and wearing out his life, 
 Or with vain words wages disgraceful strife 
 That leads nowhither, till forgotten death 
 Seizes the babbler, choking out his breath. 
 
 " But ye forget all get ye to the oar, 
 And steer rejoicing to the northern shore, 
 Since we shall win such glory and renown, 
 That, coming home again to our fair town, 
 Those left behind shall count us all for lords, 
 And tremble, gazing at our sheathed swords. 
 
OF JASON. 147 
 
 Fair is the wind, the sunny dawn is 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, but 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." 
 
 So spake he, knowing nought of that same land ; 
 Natheless, they noting him as he did stand 
 Beside Erginus, with unclouded face, 
 Took heart again, and to the oars apace 
 They gat and toiled, forgetting half the word 
 That from great Argo s sprite ere now they 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 fame, 
 Up to the royal hall wherefrom they came. 
 
 But Jason in his heart thought : " Now, indeed, 
 Of home and fame full little is 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 nattering 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, 
 
148 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 For still she seemed to see the black pile set 
 For her undoing by the temple-gate ; 
 And seemed to see the thronging people wait 
 For her, who there to make the 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 her care, 
 So sweet was love, and life so blithe and fair. 
 
 Now northward Argo steered for two days more, 
 Until at last they came in sight of shore, 
 And creeping on, they 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 they, 
 It being but early, anchored till mid-day, 
 And as they 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 haste 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. 
 
OF JASON. 149 
 
 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 half 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 lives 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 merchant-town. 
 
 So sadly passed the weary night away, 
 That, dreary, yet was noisier than the day ; 
 For all about them evil beasts gan stir 
 At nightfall, and great soft-winged bats to whirr 
 About their raiment and their armour bright. 
 And when the moon rose, and her crescent white 
 Made the woods blacker, then from either shore 
 They heard the thundering of the lion 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 familiar 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 side they drew not near, 
 Nor yet of aught like man did they have sight. 
 
 So dawned the day ; but like another night 
 Unto their wearied eyes it seemed to be, 
 
 14 
 
150 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Amid that solitude, whore tree joined tree 
 For ever, as it seemed ; and natheless, they 
 Ran out the oars and gat them on their way 
 Against the ebb, and little help the flood 
 Gave them that day ; but yet for bad or good 
 They labonred on, though still with less intent, 
 More hopeless past the changeless woods they went. 
 
 But every day, more and more sluggishly 
 And shorter time, the water from the sea 
 Han up, and failed ere eve of the third day, 
 Though slower took the downward stream its way, 
 Grown wide and dull, 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 oozes and decaying sedge 
 There wallowed ugly, nameless, dull-scaled things. 
 
 These now the weary company 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 fivst begun. 
 For as anigh the prow she chanced to stand, 
 Unto 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 upon the way 
 Some few among them lost the light of day, 
 Smit by Thcssalian arrows, yet the most 
 The narrow strip of water fairly crossed, 
 Arid scaled the ship s sides, and therewith began 
 A fearful battle betwixt worm and man. 
 
OF JASON. 151 
 
 Not long it dured ; though Ceneus through the mail 
 Was bitten, and one monster s iron tail 
 Smote down Asterion, whom 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 worm twixt ship and shore her arrow slew, 
 But ere her 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 sides, enfolding mightily 
 Her foiled right hand, then raised aloft his crest 
 Against her unembraced tender breast ; 
 But she, with one unharmed hand yet left 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 swiftly from the left, 
 By Areas desperately cast, that cleft 
 The monster s head, and dulled his glittering eyes. 
 
 Then the glad Minyae with joyous cries 
 Cleared Argo s decks of all the monstrous things, 
 As from the maiden s firnbs the slimy rings 
 Slacked and 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 their land they knew, 
 And into clumps of close-set beeches grew, 
 
152 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And oak-trees thinly spread, and there-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 against each (since time of fight was now), 
 About them would the swine squeal, and the sheep 
 In close-drawn flock their faint republic keep, 
 With none to watch : 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 Minyse 
 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 Sminthian s son, 
 Keen Theseus, with Pirithous his mate, 
 Clitius, whose swift shaft smote as Sure as fate, 
 ^Etalides, the runner of the plain, 
 Phocus, whose sling was seldom whirled in vain, 
 Cseneus the cragsman, Periclimenes, 
 And Apheus, haunter of the close-set trees. 
 
 So forth these set, and none of them had lack 
 Of spear or bow, or quiver at the back, 
 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 uncupped acorn, and the long leaves brown, 
 For on that land the sad mid-autumn lay, 
 And earlier came the sunset day by day. 
 
OF JASON. 153 
 
 But now unto their hunting gave they heed, 
 And of the more part happy was the speed, 
 And soon to Argo did they turn again, 
 Laden with that they had set forth to gain, 
 Of deer and beasts the slaughtered carcasses 
 Upborne on interwoven boughs of trees. 
 
 With whom came Theseus not, nor Areas came, 
 Nor yet ^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 those three unto the river s shore, 
 Nor through the night : but swift .ZEtalides 
 At dawn they saw come running through the trees, 
 With Areas far behind, and Theseus slim 
 The last of all, but straining every limb 
 To be their equal : empty-handed they 
 Came back to Argo on that dawn of day, 
 And on being asked, a short tale had to tell. 
 
 Unto their part to chase a great buck fell, 
 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 fain had spoke them fair, 
 But knowing not their tongue, they yet had care 
 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 ; 
 
 14* 
 
154 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 At last of their departure were they fain, 
 But, being stayed, they durst not strive in vain 
 For fear of worse ; but now, the night being come, 
 The wild folk seemed to think that place their home 
 Just as another, and there gat to sleep, 
 Nor yet upon the Greeks a watch did keep 
 To stop their going ; "So," said Areas, " we, 
 An hour after midnight, warily 
 Stole from among them, neither gave they chase, 
 Being still asleep, like beasts, in that same place ; 
 And for their semblance, neither were they clad, 
 Nor in their hands a spear or sword they had, 
 Or any brass or iron, but long slings, 
 And scrips of stones, and ugly stone-set things 
 Most like to knives, and clubs of heavy wood ; 
 Soft-voiced they were, and gentle of their mood, 
 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 children 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 likelihead 
 These are the folk of whom I erst heard tell 
 In ^Ea, where to me it oft befell 
 To speak with many men from many lands, 
 Long ere ye crossed the Phasis yellow sands. 
 
 " Of these I learned more tongues of speaking men 
 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 have of mirth 
 
OF JASON. 155 
 
 When these they honour ; yea, and unto these 
 Within their temples, groves of ancient trees, 
 Clad but in leaves, and crowned in solemn wise, 
 They offer strangers up in sacrifice, 
 Which was your doom had not the Gods been kind, 
 Who for your bodies other graves will find." 
 
 But when they heard her, glad they were indeed 
 That they from such a bondage had been freed. 
 But, day being fully come, they loosed from shore, 
 And gainst the stream all bent 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 scarped cliffs here and there, 
 Where screamed the great ger-falcon as they passed, 
 And whence the sooty swifts about the mast 
 Went sweeping, with shrill cries at that new sight. 
 
 Nought napped 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 pass to war, 
 Rising and falling as the wind from far 
 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 inward 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 walls, 
 Which, being passed, both calm and deep will be 
 The pent-up stream, and Argo easily 
 Will stem it ; but or ere we come thereto, 
 
156 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Needs must we heave her up and make her go 
 Over the hard earth, till the falls are past. 
 Eat therefore now, and sleep, that ye may last 
 Through this and other toils, and so may come 
 Through many labours, back unto your home." 
 So, landing, many a pine-torch did they light, 
 And made the dusky evening strange and bright, 
 And there a mighty fire did they pile, 
 And set the flesh thereto, and in a while, 
 When all was ready, did they offer up 
 That \\hich the Gods claimed, pouring out a cup 
 Of red wine to them from a new-pierced skin. 
 Then in that lonely land did they begin 
 Their feast, and first the flesh to Jason gave, 
 And next to her who all their souls did save, 
 Far up the Phasis on that other day, 
 And then unto the swift 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 turn, 
 With vain desires gan their hearts to burn, 
 So stirred within them wine and changing speech. 
 
 But unto him his harp did Orpheus reach, 
 And smote the strings, and through the ancient trees 
 Hang the heart-piercing honeyed melodies : 
 
 "Alas ! for Saturn 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. 
 
OF JASON. 157 
 
 When all men needed did abound 
 In every land ; nor must they 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 strife, 
 No element against his life 
 Was sworn and bitter ; on the sea, 
 Dry-shod, could 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 dead, 
 Nor was the autumn-tide more sad 
 Than very spring ; and all unclad 
 Folk went upon 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 blaze, 
 Unshaded by the rosy bowers, 
 Unscorched beside the tulip flowers, 
 The snow-white naked girl might stand ; 
 Or fearless thrust her tender hand 
 Amidst the thornless 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 green glades, or made afraid 
 The timid dwellers in the shade. 
 No lust of strength nor fear of death 
 
158 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Had driven men, with shortened breath, 
 The stag s wide-open eyes to watch ; 
 No shafts to slay, no nets to catch, 
 Were yet ; unyoked the neat might play 
 On untilled meads, and mountains grey, 
 Unshorn, the silly sheep might rove. 
 
 " Nor knew that world consuming love, 
 Mother of hate, or envy cold, 
 Or rage for fame, or thirst for gold, 
 Or longing for the ways untried, 
 That, ravening and unsatisfied, 
 Draw shortened lives of men to Hell. 
 
 " Alas ! what profit now to tell 
 The long unweary lives of men 
 Of past days threescore years and ten, 
 Unbent, un wrinkled, beautiful, 
 Regarding not death s flower-crowned skull, 
 But with some damsel intertwined 
 In such love as leaves hope behind. 
 
 " Alas, the vanished days of bliss ! 
 Will no God send some dream of this, 
 That we may know what it has been V 
 
 " Oh, thou, the chapleted with green, 
 Thou purpled-stained, but 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 thy sight the must foams out, 
 And maid and man, with cry arid shout, 
 Toil while thou laughest, think of us, 
 And drive away these piteous, 
 Formless and wailing thoughts, that press 
 About our hour of happiness. 
 
 " Ly;iMis, King ! by thee alone 
 To song may change our tuneless moan, 
 
OF JASON. 159 
 
 The murmur of the bitter sea 
 
 To ancient tales be changed by thee. 
 
 By thee the unnamed smouldering fire 
 
 Within our hearts turns to desire 
 
 Sweet, amorous, half satisfied ; 
 
 Through thee the doubtful years untried 
 
 Seem fair to us and fortunate, 
 
 In spite of death, in spite of fate." 
 
 He ceased, and bent his head above the wine ; 
 Then, as he raised his eyes, they saw them shine 
 In 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 doubtful 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 faint wan streak between the thinner trees, 
 And in their yellowing foliage the breeze 
 Made a new sound, that through their waking dream 
 Like to the surging sea well-nigh did seem. 
 
 But the full day being come, all men awake, 
 Fresh hold upon 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, 
 
160 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And looking on ahead, the stream could see 
 
 White with the rapids ; therefore warily 
 
 Some mile or two they went at a slow pace, 
 
 And stayed their course where they beheld a place 
 
 Soft-sloping 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 come 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 JEtalides to see 
 What further up the river there might be. 
 Who going twenty leagues, another fall 
 Found, with great cliffs on each side, like a wall ; 
 But, twixt 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. 
 
OF JASON. 161 
 
 BOOK XI. 
 
 NOW might the Minyte hoist up to the breeze 
 Their well-wrought sail, for barren of all trees 
 The banks were now become, not rising high 
 Above the deep green stream that sluggishly 
 Strove with the strenuous Argo s cleaving stem. 
 
 So after all 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 through, 
 That mid their sedges toward the river drew, 
 And harboured noisome things, and death to man. 
 But looking up stream, the green river ran 
 Unto their eyes, from out the mountains high, 
 For twixt no pass could they behold the sky, 
 Though at the mountain s foot, far through the plain, 
 They saw the wandering river shine again, 
 Then vanish wholly, therefore through their ease, 
 With fear did they the jealous (rods 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 them aught upon that tide 
 To heave the swift ship out on either side, 
 For all that plain the mountain ridge bestrode, 
 
 15 
 
1 62 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And scarcely could a horseman find a road 
 Through any pass into the farther land. 
 
 Then mid the downcast men did Jason stand, 
 And lifting up his voice, said : " Minyse, 
 Why right and left upon this plain look ye, 
 Where dwell but beasts or beast-like 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, bearing in our hands 
 This golden, hard-won marvel of all lands. 
 Yet, since not death it bears, but living things, 
 Shall we not reach thereby the sea that rings 
 The whole world round, and so make shift to reach 
 Sunny Euboea, and fair Argo beach 
 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 our glory gone, 
 Our names but left upon some carven stone 
 In Greece, still growing fainter day by day. 
 And this work wrought within the sunny bay, 
 Nor yet without the help of Gods, shall lie 
 A wonder to the wild beasts 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, 
 
OF JASON. 163 
 
 And thrusting out with poles, made shift to go 
 Against 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 begun, 
 Or somewhat traps us here, as well it may, 
 And ends us all, far from the light of day." 
 
 Therewith he bade them light the torches up, 
 And to the mountain Gods to pour a cup, 
 And one unto the river Gods, and pray 
 That they might come into the light of day, 
 When they had pierced the mountain through and through. 
 So from the torches trains of sparkles flew, 
 And strangely flashed their arms in that dark place, 
 And white and haggard showed each anxious face 
 Against those dripping walls of unknown stone. 
 
 But now in Jason s hand the cup outshone, 
 Full of red wine, pressed by the Grecian sea, 
 And lifting high his hand, he cried : " ye, 
 Both Gods and nymphs who in this wild land dwell, 
 In hill or river, henceforth may ye tell 
 How through your midst have passed the Minyae ; 
 And if, ye helping, the cold northern sea 
 We 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 side of this 
 Grim cavern, due observance shall ye miss, 
 For whatso on the teeming plain we snare, 
 Slain with due rites shall smoke before you there." 
 
 So spake he, and twice poured the fragrant wine ; 
 
1 64 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 But they, well-pleased to have the gift divine, 
 And noting well his promises, took heed 
 Unto his prayers, and gave the heroes speed. 
 Then Jason straightway bade more torches light, 
 And Argo pushed along, flared through the night 
 Of the dank 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 Lynceus gave a cry, 
 Smiting his palms together, who could spy, 
 Far off, a little white speck through the dark, 
 As when the lated traveller sees the spark 
 Of some fair-lighted homestead glitter bright. 
 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 fair 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 there heads 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 forth, and not in vain ; 
 For Atalanta, swifter than a man, 
 Areas, and mighty Theseus, overran 
 A white high-crested bull, and tough cords threw 
 
OF JASON. 165 
 
 About his horns, and so by main force drew 
 The great beast to the altars, where the knife 
 Of wise Asclepius ended his hot life. 
 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 stream 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 burrowing it had cleft ; 
 But lower were the hills, and on the left 
 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 bank, for soothly now, 
 A pebble, ill-thrown by a stripling s hand 
 From Argo s deck, had lighted on the land ; 
 And yet far inland still they seemed to be, 
 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 learnedst in thine home, 
 O wise artificer ? What dost thou here, 
 While in thy fellows hearts is gathering fear ? 
 
 15* 
 
1 66 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Now from the north thou seest this river flow, 
 Why doubtest thou to find another go 
 Into the cold green icy northern sea? 
 Lo ! if thou wiliest well to trust in me, 
 About the noontide of this very day, 
 At the wood s end I bid thee Argo stay, 
 And from her straightway let the Minyae 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 me, 
 No dream I am, but lovely and divine, 
 Whereof let this be unto thee a sign, 
 That when thou wak st the many-coloured 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 many-coloured bow, 
 And trembling knew that the high Gods indeed 
 Had sent the Messenger unto their need. 
 And when the Miny;c, running out the oars 
 That windless morning, found them touch the shores 
 On either side, then ere one said a word, 
 He cried, arid 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 hoar my words and trust in me." 
 
 Therewith he told them of that dream divine, 
 
OF JASON. 167 
 
 And of the many-coloured arched sign, 
 
 And gladdened all their hearts, for well they knew 
 
 That some God helped them, and straightway they threw 
 
 Hawsers ashore, wherewith their keel to tow, 
 
 And swiftly through the water made her go, 
 
 Until they reached the ending of the wood, 
 
 Just at the noonday, and there thought it good 
 
 To rest till morning : but at dawn of day 
 
 Gat forth, and mighty blows began to lay 
 
 On many a tree, making the tall trunks reel, 
 
 That ne er before had felt the woodman s steel. 
 
 So many days they laboured, cutting down 
 The smooth grey beeches, and the pine-trees brown, 
 And cleft them into planks and beams foursquare. 
 And so, with Argus guiding all things there, 
 A stage with broad 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 forth 
 Unto some river 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 faint yellow leaves, 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 befall, 
 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 ; 
 
1 68 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Yet never any man did they behold, 
 Though underneath the shaft and hunting-spear 
 Fell many a stag, and shuffling crafty bear, 
 And strange the Minyae showed in shaggy spoil. 
 
 But now, at ending of their woodwright s toil, 
 It chanced Argus self alone to go, 
 One bitter 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 falls a landslip by the mining 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, to thine hardihead, 
 Well met thou art 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 well-feathered shafts good store, 
 And in her belt a two-edged cutting sword. 
 Then straightly answered Argus to her word : 
 " Lady, not far hence are my fellows stayed, 
 But on hard earth this night will they be laid, 
 And eat the flesh of beasts their hands have slain. 
 
OF JASON. 169 
 
 For from the sea we come, to meet again 
 The ocean that the round world rings about, 
 Still wandering on, in trouble and in doubt." 
 
 " Nay," said she, " let us set on through the wood, 
 For food and fire alone to me are good, 
 And guarded sleep among such folk as thee, 
 For being alone, I fear the enemy, 
 The savage men our bands are wont to chase 
 Through these wild 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 faint 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 with the sight his dazzled eyes did swim, 
 So was she changed, for from her raiment light 
 Her rosy 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 glimmering things ; 
 From her two shoulders many-coloured wings 
 Rose up, and fanning 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 : 
 
1 70 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 " Argus, be glad, and lifting up thine head, 
 
 Look through these few last trees upon the plain, 
 
 Smooth and unseamed, though never crossed by wain, 
 
 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 next morn at daybreak get ye forth, 
 
 And labour all ye may, for see the sky 
 
 How clear it is the 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 the snow, 
 
 And all the plain, so smooth and even now, 
 
 Shall 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 
 
 Mix with the dark sky : make ye for that pass, 
 
 While yet endures the east wind and the frost, 
 
 And in your journey shall ten days be lost, 
 
 If that ye labour hard : but coming there, 
 
 Shall ye behold a 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 shall swirl the drifting snow, 
 
 And your astonished eyes shall soon behold 
 
 Firm earth and river one with binding cold, 
 
 And in mid-winter then shall ye be shut ; 
 
 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. 
 
OF JASON. 171 
 
 Then got ye down the river to the sea. 
 
 Nor doubt thou aught since thou beholdest me, 
 
 For I indeed am Iris ; but farewell, 
 
 For of my finished message must I tell 
 
 To her that sent me to this dreary place." 
 
 So spake she, and straightway before his face 
 She spread her fair wings wide, and from the earth 
 Rose upwards toward the place that gave her birth, 
 Still growing faint and 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 them gainst day 
 Be ready to set forth, and told his tale. 
 And they, not fearing that his word should fail, 
 Gat them to sleep, and ere the late dawn came, 
 By the faint starlight and the flickering flame 
 Of their own watch-fires 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, 
 But like some carl s unkempt and rugged steed, 
 That to the town drags his corn-laden wain. 
 
 But neither was the heavenly word in vain, 
 For as the yew-clad hill they drew anear 
 
172 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 The grey-eyed keen Messenian could see clear, 
 From the bare top of a great ashen-tree, 
 The river running to the northern sea, 
 Showing all dull and heavy gainst the snow ; 
 And when the joyful 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 slipped 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, foursquare, and thereon laid 
 A white wild bull, and barley cakes, 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 burn 
 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 2Eson s beauteous house, whose oaken beam 
 Cleft the dark wintry river, as they went 
 With longing eyes and hearts still northward bent ; 
 And fain he was to see his dainty bride, 
 That wrapt in muffling furs sat by his 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, 
 
OF JASON. 173 
 
 And as the Goddess bade them, there they beached 
 Their sea-beat ship, on which from side to side 
 They built a roof against the snowy tide, 
 And round about her huts wherein to dwell, 
 When on their heads the full mid-winter fell, 
 And round 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 iron ground the wind did blow, 
 And in the cold, dark stream, from either bank 
 The ice stretched forth ; at last, ere the sun sank, 
 One bitter day, low grew the clouds and dun 
 A little northward of the setting sun, 
 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 white, 
 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 darts to throw 
 At bird or beast, though, as the wild-fowl passed 
 South o er their camp, yet flew they not so fast 
 As Areas arrows, and the elk at bay 
 Deep in the forest, seldom found a way 
 To scape from Jason s mighty well-steeled 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, 
 
 16 
 
174 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Forgetting not their fathers, or the time 
 When all the world still dwelt in equal clime, 
 But each to each amid the wine-cups told 
 Unwritten, half-forgotten tales of old. 
 
 BOOK XIL 
 
 MOST pitiless and stark the winter grew 
 Meanwhile, beneath a sky of cloudless blue, 
 And sun that warmed not, till they nigh forgot 
 The green lush spring, the summer rich and hot, 
 The autumn fragrant with slow-ripening fruit ; 
 Till each grew listless, dull to the heart s root ; 
 For day passed day, and yet 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 sunset, and no change at all 
 In the drear silence of the dead nightfall. 
 
 Ten weeks they bode there, longing 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 next dawn of day 
 Broke o er the Minyre colourless and grey, 
 With gusts of fitful wind twixt south and east, 
 That with the day grew steadier and increased, 
 Until a south-west gale blew o er the snow, 
 And northward drove the steel-blue clouds and low. 
 
OF JASON. 175 
 
 And on that night the pattering of the rain 
 Roused them from sleep, and 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 Minyae beheld 
 How the swift river from the high ground swelled, 
 And still tormented by the wind and rain, 
 Burst from the ice and covered all the plain 
 With breadth of turbid waters, while around 
 Their high-raised camp again they saw the ground 
 Freed from the swathing 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 doubtful 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 be, 
 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 ashen oars could they thrust forth 
 Into the widened stream, that toward the north 
 
176 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Ran swiftly, and thenceforward day by day 
 Toiling, they made full many a league of way. 
 Nor did they see great hills on either hand, 
 When they had fairly passed the woody land 
 Where they abode the winter ; neither heard 
 The sound of falls to make their hearts afeard, 
 But through great woods the gentle river ran, 
 And plains where fed the herds unowned of man ; 
 Though sometimes in the night-time did they hear 
 Men s voices calling out, far-off and near, 
 But in some tongue not one among them knew, 
 No, not the Queen : but Lynceus, passing through 
 The woods, with Idas, following up a bear, 
 A sudden clamour of men s tongues did hear, 
 And in a cleared space came upon a throng 
 Of naked men and women, fair and strong, 
 About a fire, just at point to eat, 
 But at the flash of arms they to their feet 
 Rose suddenly, and swiftly gat away, 
 Nor durst the twain give chase to them that day, 
 But coming to that fire, laid their hands 
 On a brass cauldron, and three woollen bands, 
 That seemed like belts or fillets for their heads, 
 Set thick with silver knots and amber beads. 
 Now round the brazen cauldron, graven well, 
 Were uncouth letters, that some tale might tell, 
 If any them could read ; so when the fleece 
 Was offered up unto the Gods of Greece, 
 This thing in fair Mcssene Idas hung 
 In the fair fane where deeds of war are sung. 
 
 So through all this the wearied Minyre 
 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 marshy plain 
 
OF JASON. 177 
 
 Most cold and bitter, but to them as sweet 
 As the rose-scented zephyr those do meet 
 Who near the happy islands of the blest ; 
 For as upon their eager brows it pressed, 
 They sniffed withal the odour of the sea, 
 And going on a mile, they 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 the 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 with good heart, as midst the sweeping oars 
 It tossed and foamed, and swept the muddy shores, 
 They 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 sore they longed for dawn, and when it broke 
 Again the waters foamed beneath their stroke, 
 Till they had gained that river s utmost reach, 
 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 MinyjEe 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, 
 
 16* 
 
178 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Nor Her by whose belp thus far they had run 
 
 Their happy course unto that river s mouth. 
 
 And now the wind had changed, and from the south 
 
 Blew softly, and the hot sun, shining forth, 
 
 Made lovely land of that once bitter north, 
 
 And filled their hearts with longing thoughts of love, 
 
 And worship of the sea-born 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 Minyee, 
 And, shouting, drave out Argo to the sea. 
 
 But when the first green ridge swept up her bow, 
 Then Jason cried : " And who shall stop us now ? 
 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 changeful men the death and birth, 
 We shall not be forgotten anywhere, 
 But our deeds told shall free sad folk from care." 
 
 So spake he, and his love beholding him, 
 Trembled for joy and love in every limb, 
 And inwardly she saw an ivory throne, 
 And Jason sitting 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 page 
 By those who quite forget what they have read, 
 Taking no heed of living folk or dead. 
 
 Now hoisting sail, and labouring with the oar, 
 They passed along the amber-bearing shore, 
 A low coast, backed by pine-woods : none the less 
 Some days they needs must pass in idleness, 
 
OF JASON. 179 
 
 And lie-to, midst white rolling mist and blind, 
 Lest Argo on some shallow death should find ; 
 Yet holpen by 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, 
 They saw a skin-clad folk awaiting them, 
 Who stood to watch the well-built Argo stem 
 The rushing tide upon the shingly beach, 
 And thence, as knowing that they could not reach 
 The heroes with their arrows, shook their spears, 
 And shouted unknown threats to careless ears. 
 
 But when against the midst of them they came, 
 Forth strode a huge man, with red hair like flame, 
 And his huge bow against them strongly drew, 
 Wherefrom a swift shaft straight to Argo flew, 
 And whistling over Jason s head, stuck fast 
 Over the barb-points in the gleaming mast. 
 Then all men praised 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 : 
 Natheless, unmoved they saw the archer stand, 
 And toward the Arcadian arrow stretch his hand, 
 That midmost of his skin-clad body smote, 
 But bounded back as from an iron coat. 
 Then loud his people shouted, and all drew 
 Their feeble bows, but short their arrows 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 erewhile 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 : 
 
i8o THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 " Fair love, now praise some God- thou art not dead. 
 For from the Cimbrian folk this arrow came, 
 And its sharp barbs 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 : 
 Nor ask me now the name of her who taught 
 This wisdom to me : but two arrows brought 
 From this same folk to JEa, have I seen, 
 By one whose wounds will evermore be green 
 While on the earth he dwells." So spoke the maid, 
 But Jason, wondering at the words she said, 
 Gazed on her fair face, smiling lovingly, 
 Nor cared to think that he must one day die. 
 
 Now rose a south-east gale, and Argo lost 
 All sight of land, and the vexed Minyse, tost 
 From sea to sea, began to feel a fear 
 They yet might pass into some ocean drear 
 Beyond the circling sea that rings the world, 
 And down some bottomless abyss be hurled, 
 To fall for ever : then the winged twain, 
 That erst had been the loathly harpies bane, 
 Came forth, and on the prow with wings spread wide, 
 Half stood, half floated, while aloud they cried : 
 
 " 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 Nereus 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 ? " 
 
 So spake they ; but still blew the south the same 
 Until the starless night upon them came, 
 
OF JASON. 181 
 
 But then a little did its fury lull, 
 
 And when the rain-beat night was at its full, 
 
 Fell to a light breeze, though still many a sea 
 
 Swept Argo s deck, and still the Minyae 
 
 Had dread of some returning hideous blast. 
 
 But when the doubtful night from them had past, 
 
 Barefoot 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 firm-planted 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 : " Minyae, 
 
 Fear not to die within the northern sea, 
 
 For on my 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 sits, 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 place, 
 
1 82 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 bare, 
 Went wandering, be-mocked of uncouth things ; 
 Then stood before the judgment-seat of kings, 
 Knowing no crime that she was charged withal, 
 Until at last deep sleep on her did fall 
 Like death itself, wherein the troublous past 
 And fearsome future in one tomb are cast. 
 
 Meanwhile the Minyse, joyful at her tale, 
 Ran 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 country 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 cliffs to meadows green and soft, 
 And then to other cliffs, 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, clad in gold, was Pelias living yet. 
 
 But to the Gods now did they sacrifice 
 As seafarers may do, and things of price 
 (Javu to the tumbling billows of the sea, 
 
OF JASON. 183 
 
 That for their lives still cried out hungrily, 
 
 And though for many days they saw no shore, 
 
 Yet fainted not their hearts as heretofore, 
 
 For as along the pathless plain they went, 
 
 The white-foot messenger the Goddess sent, 
 
 Who, unseen, whispered in the helmsman s ear, 
 
 And taught him how the goodly ship to steer ; 
 
 And on a time it chanced as the day broke, 
 
 And to their life 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 many-coloured sign ; 
 
 Then to the Goddess did they pour out wine, 
 
 Right 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 ; 
 
 And as they went the Thracian s cunning hand 
 
 Stole o er the harp-strings till Arion s steeds 
 
 Gat them from twixt the tangled water-weeds, 
 
 And lifted listening heads above the sea, 
 
 And sea-birds, pensive 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 die 
 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, 
 
184 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Nor in our hearts have thought of mirth. 
 And while the world lasts, scarce again 
 Shall any sons of men bear pain 
 Like we have borne, yet be alive. 
 
 " So surely not in vain we strive 
 Like other men for our reward ; 
 Sweet peace and deep, the checkered sward 
 Beneath the ancient mulberry-trees, 
 The smooth-paved gilded palaces, 
 Where the shy thin-clad damsels sweet 
 Make music with their gold-ringed feet ; 
 The fountain court amidst of it, 
 Where the short-haired slave maidens sit, 
 While on the veined pavement lie 
 The honeyed things and spice ry 
 Their arms have borne from out the town. 
 
 " The dancers on the thymy down 
 In summer twilight, when the earth 
 Is 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, 
 Where over many a changing face 
 The pigeons 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, from fools or wise, 
 But tales of our accomplished quest. 
 
OF JASON. 185 
 
 " What soul within the house shall rest 
 When we come home ? The wily king 
 Shall leave his throne to see the thing ; 
 No man shall keep the landward gate, 
 The hurried traveller shall wait *j 
 
 , Until our bulwarks graze the quay,< f^J^^ 
 
 / Unslain the milk-white bull shall bej 
 Beside the quivering altar-flame ; ^ 
 Scarce shall the maiden clasp for shame 
 Over her breast the raiment thin 
 The morn that Argo cometh in. 
 
 " Then cometh 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 wave-tossed Argo o er the glittering sea. 
 
 So as the moon set, did there seem to be, 
 Upon their larboard, banks of high-piled cloud, 
 Which from their sight the last dark hour did shroud. 
 Then came the twilight, and those watchers fain 
 Against the eastern light beheld again 
 
1 86 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 The clouds unchanged ; and as the daylight grew, 
 Lynceus cried out : " Some land we draw unto ! 
 Look forth, Erginus, on these mountains grey, 
 If thou, perchance, hast seen them ere to-day." 
 
 Therewith all turned about, and some men ran 
 To hear what words the God-begotten man 
 Would say, who answered : " Lynceus, and all ye, 
 The man we left ere while across the sea 
 Might tell us this, the godlike Hercules ; 
 Yet I myself think that the landless seas 
 No more shall vex us 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 break these mighty billows, 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, 
 Till as the sun rose were they near the strait, 
 At whose mouth but a little did they wait 
 Till they had eaten, pouring honeyed wine 
 Unto the Gods, then biding no new sign, 
 They cried aloud, and running out the oars, 
 They swept great Argo midmost twixt the shores 
 Of either land, and as her gilded prow 
 Cleft the new waters, clean forgotten now 
 Grew all the wasteful washing of the main, 
 And clean forgotten the dull hopeless pain, 
 In the great swirling river left so long, 
 And in all hearts the memory was strong 
 Of the bright Grecian headlands and the bay 
 They left astern upon a glorious day. 
 
OF JASON. 187 
 
 BOOK XIII. 
 
 BUT as along the shore they sailed next day, 
 Full many a headland on their lucky way 
 Erginus knew, but said no towns there were 
 Within that land, but that from year to year 
 Well-nigh untilled the earth her produce gave, 
 And many a herd the houseless people drave, 
 And using neither roof nor sheltering wall, 
 Dwelt but in tents, and had no want at all. 
 
 With that he bade them trim the bellying sail, 
 For from the land now blew a gentle gale, 
 Spice-laden, warm, that made their full hearts yearn 
 For unseen things, but soon they left astern 
 That fruitful place, the lion-haunted land, 
 Nor saw but tumbling seas on either hand. 
 
 Three days they sailed, and passed on the third day 
 A rock-bound coast upon their left that lay, 
 But on the morrow eve made land again, 
 Stretched 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 like cries of men afeard, 
 And blare of horns, and clank of heavy chains, 
 And noise of bells, such as in moonlit lanes 
 Kings from the grey team on the market-night. 
 
 And with these noises did they see a light, 
 That seemed to light some crown of palaces, 
 Shining from out a grove of thickset trees. 
 Then did the Minyae doubt if they were come 
 Unto some great king s well-adorned home, 
 
1 88 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 yellow strand, 
 Well-set with fair fruit-bearing 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 marble, fair beyond man s thought. 
 
 There as they lay, the sweetest scents were brought 
 By sighing winds across the bitter sea, 
 And languid music breathed melodiously, 
 Steeping their souls in such unmixed delight, 
 Their hearts were melted, and all dim of sight 
 They grew, and scarce their hands could 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 sea, 
 And said no word, till from her precious things 
 She drew a casket full of chains and rings, 
 And took therefrom 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 : "0 heroes, what has chilled your blood, 
 That in such wise ye gaze upon this land 
 With tearful eye, and nerveless, languid hand, 
 And heaving breast, and measureless desire I 
 Be wise, for here the never-dying fire 
 The God-begotten 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 bestial form. 
 
OF JASON. 189 
 
 " And good it had been that some bitter storm 
 Were tossing Argo s planks from sea to sea", 
 Than ye had reached this fair land, but for me, 
 Who amid tears and prayers, and nameless pain, 
 Some little wisdom have made shift to gain : 
 Look forth upon the green shore, and behold 
 Those many beasts, all collared with fine gold, 
 Lions and pards, and small-eyed restless bears, 
 And tusked boars, who from uneasy lairs 
 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, 
 But 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 wind-swept green Thessalian plain. 
 
 " Meanwhile, 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 but lost men and their undoers fair." 
 
 But with that word they furrowed the wet sand, 
 And straight they ran the gangway out to 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 Minyne on their bow-strings set 
 The notches of their arrows, but the maid 
 Turned round about, with calm face unafraid, 
 And said : "0 Minyae, lay your weapons down, 
 Nor fear for me ; behold this chaplet brown, 
 Whose withered leaves rest lightly on my head, 
 17* 
 
190 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 grisly swine her limbs did glide, 
 And on a lion s mane her hand she laid ; 
 But still with moans they thronged about the maid, 
 As she passed onward to the palace white, 
 Until the elm-groves hid 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 that fair bay that Pelion 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 hid the fair feet of a marble house, 
 Carved thick with flowers and stories amorous. 
 And midmost of the slender garden trees 
 A gilded shrine stood, set with images, 
 Wherefrom the never-dying fire 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 there Medea stayed a little space, 
 
OF JASON. 191 
 
 Gazing in wonder through the silver rail 
 
 That fenced the garden from the wooded vale ; 
 
 For damsels wandered there in languid wise 
 
 As though they weaned of that Paradise, 
 
 Their jewelled raiment dragging from its stalk 
 
 The harmless daisy in their listless walk. 
 
 But though from rosy heel to golden head 
 
 Most fair they were and wrought with white and red, 
 
 Like to the casket-bearer who beguiled 
 
 The hapless one, and though their lips still smiled, 
 
 Yet to the Colchian heavy-eyed they seemed, 
 
 And each at other gazed as though she dreamed, 
 
 Not noting aught of all the glorious show 
 
 She joined herself, nor seeming more to know 
 
 What words she spoke nor what her fellows sung, 
 
 Nor feeling arms that haply round her clung. 
 
 For here and there the Colchian maid could see 
 Some browned seafarer kissing eagerly 
 White feet or half-bared bosom, and could hear 
 A rough voice stammering twixt love and fear 
 Amid the dreamy murmur of the place, 
 As on his knees, with eager upturned face^ 
 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 all reply, 
 Still gazing on his flushed face 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 them 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-eyed beasts about her saw 
 These draw towards them, and beheld the gate 
 Open and shut, and fellows to that state 
 
192 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 New come, they whined, and brushing round her feet 
 
 Prayed for return unto that garden sweet, 
 
 Their own undoing once, that yet shall be 
 
 Death unto many a toiler of the sea, 
 
 Because all these outside the silver grate 
 
 Were men indeed though inarticulate, 
 
 And, spite of seeming, in none. otherwise 
 
 Did longing torture them, than when in guise 
 
 Of men they stood 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 gate 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 ? 
 Get from this place, for never more can ye 
 Become partakers of the majesty 
 That from man s soul looks through his eager eyes. 
 Go wail that ever ye were made so wise 
 As men are made who chase through smooth and rough 
 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, 
 
OF JASON. 193 
 
 But, if they met her eyes, stared listlessly, 
 Like those who walk in sleep, and as they dream 
 Turn empty faces to the lightning s gleam, 
 And murmur 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 whose 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 not so much 
 As the cool ripple hides Diana s feet, 
 When through the brook the roe-deer, slim and fleet, 
 She follows at the dawning of the day. 
 
 Smiling, she put the wondrous book away ; 
 As the light footsteps fell upon her ear, 
 She raised her head, and when the queen drew near, 
 Shevsaid : " 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 
 Ere that had happed to thee that haps to all, 
 Into the troublous sea of love to fall, 
 Then like unto the gods shouldst thou have been, 
 Nor ever died, but sitting here have seen 
 The fashion of the foolish world go by, 
 And drunk the cup of power and majesty. 
 
 " But now it may not be, and thou must come, 
 With him thou boughtedst, to a troublous home ; 
 But since indeed the fates will have it so, 
 Take heed thou dost the things I bid thee do. 
 And, first, since thou wouldst have me purify 
 Your hands of his blood that thou sawest die 
 Twixt yellow Phasis and the green-ridged sea, 
 
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 to spare 
 Spices and golden things and raiment fair, 
 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 unmixed honeyed wine, 
 And, crowned with olive, round the altars sing 
 Unto the God who gladdens everything, 
 Thy father s father, the 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 
 Neath the Trinacrian clhTs, whereon shall lie 
 Fair women, fairer than thine eyes have seen. 
 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 hand, 
 And sings thereto some God-delighting strain. 
 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 
 Keach 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, 
 
OF JASON. 195 
 
 For still the sceptre presses Pelias hand, 
 
 And ^Eson is at rest for evermore ; 
 
 Bid then thy folk lurk by some wooded shore, 
 
 And to the white-walled city straightly wend 
 
 Thyself alone, and safely there make end 
 
 Of the King s life ; nor need I teach 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 therefore, 
 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 so, 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, 
 Longings and hopes, and joy in drawing breath. 
 And they live happy, knowing nought at all, 
 Nor what death is, where that shall chance to fall. 
 For while he lives, 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 such 
 As the Gods live in their unchanged abode, 
 And yet not joyless ; no unmeasured load 
 Of sorrow shall thy dull soul learn to bear, 
 
196 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 With nought to keep thee back from death but fear, 
 Of what thou know st not, knowing nought but pain. 
 " But though full oft thou shalt lift hands in vain, 
 Crying to what thou know st not in thy need, 
 And blind with agony, yet oft, indeed, 
 Shalt thou go nigh to think 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 knewest 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 ere while behold, 
 These hands have made, and can unmake again, 
 Nor know they aught of love, or fear, or pain. 
 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, that erst were wan, 
 Flaming with new desire, and in thine eyes 
 Shine out new thoughts that from thine heart arise ; 
 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 hast heard." 
 
OF JASON. 197 
 
 So said she, and thereat the Colchian maid 
 Turned from her fair face shuddering and afraid, 
 With beating heart, and flushed 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 as she left it, musky odours soft 
 "Were cast about her by the dallying breeze, 
 That twixt the heavy-fruited garden-trees 
 Blew o er those golden heads and bodies white, 
 And limbs well made for manifold delight, 
 From twixt whose fingers and the strings did flow 
 Sweet music such as Helicon might know. 
 
 But dizzied, hurrying through the place she past, 
 Nor any look upon their beauty cast, 
 Nor any thought unto the music gave, 
 But set herself her own vext soul to save 
 From that dread place ; beginning now to run 
 Like to a damsel of the lightfoot One, 
 Who oft from twilight unto twilight goes 
 Through still dark woods, where never rough wind blows. 
 
 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 heroes 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 Minyae 
 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 ; 
 
 18 
 
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 ran 
 Until she reached them, and the godlike man 
 Took by the arm, and hurrying him along, 
 Stayed not until their feet were 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 summer eve, 
 When she turns sighing to her father s house, 
 And leaves him there alone and amorous, 
 Heartsick with all that shame has let him see, 
 Grieved that no bolder he has dared to be. 
 
 BOOK XIY. 
 
 NOW o er the open sea they took their way y 
 For three days, and at dawning of the day, 
 Upon the fourth, saw the Trinacrian shore, 
 And 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 think some tangled poisonous land 
 Had buried them, or some tumultuous sea 
 O er their white bones was tossing angrily; 
 Or that some muddy river, far from Greece, 
 Drove seaward o er the ringlets of the fleece. 
 
 But when the Minyao hearkened to this word, 
 With many a thought their wearied hearts were stirred, 
 
OF JASON. 199 
 
 And longing for the near-gained 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 seem, 
 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-scented 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 told, 
 To those worn toilers o er the bitter sea. ^ 
 
 Now, as they sped along, they presently, 
 Rounding a headland, reached a little bay, 
 Walled from the sea by splintered cliffs and grey, 
 Capped by the thy my 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 music 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. 
 
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 thine hand, 
 
 And steer us toward the lion-haunted land : 
 
 And thou, Thracian ! if thou ere hast moved 
 
 Men s hearts, with stories of the Gods who loved, 
 
 And men who suffered, move 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, 
 
 Where their undoing is if they but 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 Minyae 
 Gazed o er the surge, for they were nigh enow 
 To see the gusty wind of evening blow 
 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 had need a bait to set, 
 But their own bodies, fair beyond man s thought, 
 Underthe 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 
 Ran swiftly, and with trembling hands made haste 
 To trim the sail, then to the tiller ran, 
 And thrust aside the skilled Milesian man, 
 Who with half-open mouth, and dreamy eyes, 
 

 OF JASON. 201 
 
 Stood steering Argo to that land of lies, 
 But as he staggered 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 Thracian 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 beds, and not to noble deeds ? 
 Or will they fail 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 but beasts, but thou 
 Givdng these souls, that all were men ere now 
 Shall be a very God and not a man ! " 
 
 So spake he ; but his fingers Orpheus ran 
 Over the strings, and sighing turned away 
 From that fair ending of the sunny bay ; 
 But 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 ; 
 Yet, 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, 
 Once more I pray you all to pardon me, 
 
 18* 
 
202 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 If with my feeble voice and harsh I sing 
 From what dim memories may chance to cling 
 About men s hearts, of lovely things once sung 
 Beside the sea, while yet the world was young. 
 
 THE SIRENS. 
 
 happy seafarers are ye, 
 
 And surely all your ills are past, 
 
 And toil upon the land and sea, 
 Since ye are brought to us at last. 
 
 To you the fashion of the world, 
 
 Wide lands laid waste, fair cities burned, 
 
 And plagues, and kings from kingdoms hurled, 
 Are nought, since hither ye have turned. 
 
 For as upon this beach we stand, 
 And o er our heads the sea-fowl flit, 
 
 Our eyes behold a glorious land, 
 And soon shall ye be kings of it. 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 A little more, a little more, 
 
 carriers of the Golden Fleece, 
 
 A little labour with the oar, 
 
 Before we reach the land of Greece. 
 
 E en now perchance faint rumours reach 
 
 Men s ears of this our victory, 
 And draw them down unto the beach 
 
 To gaze across the empty sea. 
 
 But since the longed-for day is nigh, 
 And scarce a Uod could stay us now, 
 
 Why do ye hang your heads and sigh, 
 And still go slower and more slow ? 
 
OF JASON. 203 
 
 THE SIRENS. 
 
 Ah, had ye chanced to reach the home 
 Your fond desires were set upon, 
 
 Into what troubles had ye come ! 
 What ban-en victory had ye won ! 
 
 But now, but now, when ye have lain 
 
 Asleep with us a little while 
 Beneath the washing of the main, 
 
 How calm shall be your waking smile ! 
 
 For ye shall smile to think of life 
 
 That knows no troublous change or fear, 
 
 No unavailing bitter strife, 
 
 That ere its time brings trouble near. 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 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 brought ? 
 
 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 ? 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 Is not the May time now on earth, 
 When close against the city wall 
 
 The folk are singing in their mirth, 
 
 While on their heads the May-flowers fall ? 
 
204 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 THE SIRENS. 
 
 Yes, May is come, and its sweet breath 
 Shall well-nigh make you weep to-day, 
 
 And pensive with swift-coming death, 
 Shall ye be satiate of the May. 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 Shall not July bring fresh delight, 
 As underneath green trees ye sit, 
 
 And o er some damsel s body white 
 The noontide shadows change and flit ? 
 
 THE SIRENS. 
 
 No new delight July shall bring 
 But ancient fear and fresh desire, 
 
 And, spite of every lovely thing, 
 Of July surely shall ye tire. 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 And now when August comes on thee, 
 And mid the golden sea of corn 
 
 The merry reapers thou mayst see, 
 
 Wilt thou still think the earth forlorn ? 
 
 THE SIRENS. 
 
 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 less. 
 
 OKPIIEUS. 
 
 Or wilt thou climb the sunny hill, 
 
 In the October afternoon, 
 To watch the purple earth s blood fill 
 
 The grey vat to the maiden s tune ? 
 
OF JASON 205 
 
 THE SIRENS. 
 
 When thou beginnest to grow old, 
 Bring back remembrance of thy bliss 
 
 With that the shining cup doth hold, 
 And weary helplessly of this. 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 Or pleasureless shall we pass by 
 
 The long cold night and leaden day, 
 
 That song, and tale, and minstrelsy 
 Shall make as merry as the May ? 
 
 THE SIRENS. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 And when the world is born again, 
 And with some fair love, side by side, 
 
 Thou wanderest twixt the sun and rain, 
 In that fresh love-begetting tide ; 
 
 Then, when the world is born again, 
 And the sweet year before thee lies, 
 
 Shall thy heart think of coming pain, 
 Or vex itself with memories ? 
 
 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. 
 
206 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Ah ! when the world is born again, 
 A little day is soon gone by, 
 
 When thou, unmoved by sun or rain, 
 Within a cold straight house shall lie. 
 
 Therewith they ceased awhile, as languidly 
 The head of Argo fell off 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 sick 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 where ye may be 
 Roofed over by 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 how the kingdoms change, 
 The pointed hands, and wondering 
 At doers of a desperate thing ? 
 Push on, for surely this shall be 
 Across a narrow strip of sea. 
 

 
 OF JASON. 207 
 
 THE SIRENS. 
 
 Alas ! poor souls and timorous, 
 Will ye draw nigh to gaze at us 
 And see if we are fair indeed ? 
 For such as we shall be your 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 bless, 
 wanderers of the Minyse, 
 Worn toilers over land and sea ? 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 Fair as the lightning thwart the sky, 
 As sun-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 be free, 
 Betwixt the green earth and the sea. 
 
 THE SIRENS. 
 
 If ye be bold with us to go, 
 Things such as happy dreams may show 
 Shall your once heavy eyes behold 
 About our palaces of gold ; 
 Where waters neath the waters run, 
 And from o erhead a harmless sun 
 Gleams through the woods of chrysolite. 
 
208 HUE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 There gardens fairer to the sight 
 Than those of the Phseacian king 
 Shall ye behold ; and, wondering, 
 Gaze on the sea-born fruit and flowers, 
 And thornless and unchanging bowers, 
 Whereof the May-time knoweth nought. 
 
 So to the pillared house being brought, 
 Poor souls, ye shall not be alone, 
 For o er the floors of pale blue stone 
 All day such feet as ours shall pass, 
 And, twixt the glimmering walls of glass, 
 Such bodies garlanded with gold, 
 So faint, so fair, shall ye behold, 
 And clean forget the treachery 
 Of changing earth and tumbling sea. 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 the sweet valley of deep grass, 
 Where through the summer stream doth pass, 
 In chain of shadow, and still pool, 
 From misty morn 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 white limbs and sweet grey eyes 
 Shine from the calm green pool and deep, 
 While round about the swallows sweep, 
 
OF JASON. 209 
 
 Not silent ; and would God that we, 
 Like them, were landed from the sea. 
 
 TUB SIRENS. 
 
 Shall we not rise with you at night, 
 Up through the shimmering green twilight, 
 That maketh there our changeless day, 
 Then going through the moonlight grey, 
 Shall we not sit upon these sands, 
 To think upon the troublous 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 erewhile to meet, 
 Be happy, while old stories sweet, 
 Half understood, float round your ears, 
 And fill your eyes with happy tears. 
 
 Ah ! while we sing unto you there, 
 As now we sing, with yellow hair 
 Blown round about these pearly limbs, 
 While underneath the grey sky swims 
 The light shell-sailor of the waves, 
 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 querulous pipe and shrill, 
 When the grey shadow of the hill 
 Was lengthening at the end of day ? 
 
 19 
 
210 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, indeed, 
 To where the rough brown woollen weed 
 Is drawn across their bosoms sweet, 
 Or cast from off 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 Hers, who once, for man s delight, 
 Before the world grew hard and old, 
 Came o er the bitter sea and cold ; 
 And surely those 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 vex 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. 
 
OF JASON. 211 
 
 So while the kingdoms pass away, 
 Ye sea-beat hardened toilers erst, 
 Unresting, for vain fame athirst, 
 Shall be at peace for evermore, 
 With hearts fulfilled of Godlike lore, 
 And calm, unwavering 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 trembling roof of sea. 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 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 be as if ye ae 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, 
 
212 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 The wonder-working snow and white, 
 The song of birds, the water s fall, 
 The sun that maketh bliss of all ; 
 Yea, this our toil and victory, 
 The tyrannous and conquered sea. 
 
 THE SIRENS. 
 
 Ah, will ye go, and whither then 
 Will ye go from us, soon to die, 
 
 To fill your threescore years and ten 
 With many an unnamed misery ? 
 
 And this the wretchedest of all, 
 That when upon your lonely eyes 
 
 The last faint heaviness shall fall 
 Ye shall bethink you of our cries. 
 
 Come back, nor, grown old, seek in vain 
 To hear us sing across the sea ; 
 
 Come back, come back, come back again, 
 Come back, fearful Minyse ! 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 Ah, once again, ah, once again, 
 
 The black prow plunges through the sea, 
 
 Nor yet shall all your toil be vain, 
 Nor ye forgot, Minyse. 
 
 In such 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 Minyre, one by one, 
 Slunk silently ; though many an one sighed sore, 
 As his strong fingers met the wood once more, 
 And from his breast the toilsome breathing came. 
 
OF JASON. 213 
 
 But as they laboured, some for very shame 
 Hung down their heads, and yet amongst them some 
 Gazed at the place whence that sweet song had come ; 
 But round the oars and Argo s shielded side 
 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 shroud and mast, and all the song had ceased, 
 Butes 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 oars, but he 
 Rose to the top, and towards the shore swam fast. 
 While all eyes watched 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 swimmer, 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 uprose into the air 
 A delicate and glittering little cloud, 
 That seemed some many-coloured sun to shroud ; 
 But as the rugged cliff it drew above 
 The wondering Minyae beheld it move 
 Westward, toward Lilybaeum and the sun. 
 
 Then once more was their seaward course -begun, 
 And soon those deadly sands were far astern, 
 Nor ever after could the heroes learn 
 If Butes lived or died : but old tales tell 
 That as the tumbling waves he breasted well, 
 Venus beheld him, as unseen she drew 
 From sunny Cyprus to the headland blue 
 Of Lilybaeum, where her temple is ; 
 
214 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 She, with a mind his sun-burnt brows to kiss, 
 E en as his feet were dropping nigh the beach, 
 And ere his hand the deadly hands could reach, 
 Stooped, as the merlin stoops upon the dove, 
 And snatched him thence to be awhile her love, 
 Betwixt the golden pillars of her shrine, 
 That those who pass the .^Egades see shine 
 From high-raised Lilybseum o er the sea. 
 
 But far away the sea-beat Minyae 
 Cast forth the foam, as through the growing night 
 They 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 vain toil struggling with the fateful 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 they once again forget their death, 
 Needs must they, being alive and drawing breath, 
 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 they 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 fairest they had seen, 
 Whose shell-strewn beach at highest of the tide 
 Twixt sea and flowery shore was nowise wide, 
 And drawn a little backward from the sea 
 There stood a marble wall wrought cunningly, 
 
OF JASON. 215 
 
 Rosy and white, set thick with images, 
 
 And over-topped with heavy-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 cups of oranges 
 
 Hung amid groves of pointed cypress trees ; 
 
 On grassy slopes the twining vine-boughs grew, 
 
 And hoary olives twixt 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 unstrung rubies on the grass, 
 
 And slowly o er the place the wind did pass 
 
 Heavy with many odours that it bore 
 
 From thymy hills 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 twixt 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 
 Rolled 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, 
 
216 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 On marble terrace- walls wrought like a dream ; 
 
 And round about it ran a clear blue stream, 
 
 Bridged o er with marble steps, and midmost there 
 
 Grew a green tree, whose smooth grey boughs did bear 
 
 Such fruit as never man elsewhere has seen, 
 
 For twixt the sunlight and the shadow green 
 
 Shone out fair apples of red gleaming gold. 
 
 Moreover round the tree, in many a fold, 
 
 Lay coiled a dragon, glittering little less 
 
 Than that which his eternal watchfulness 
 
 Was set to guard ; nor yet was he alone, 
 
 For from the daisied grass about him shone 
 
 Gold raiment wrapping round two damsels fair, 
 
 And one upon the steps combed out her hair, 
 
 And with shut eyes sung low as in a dream ; 
 
 And one stood naked in the cold blue 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 let 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, 
 Han up the marble stair, and gan to cry : 
 " Wake, my sisters, wake, for now are come 
 The thieves of J&& 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. 
 
OF JASON. 217 
 
 Meanwhile, from Argo many a sea-beat face 
 Gazed longingly upon that lovely place, 
 And some their eager hands already laid 
 Upon the gangway. Then Medea said : 
 " Get back unto the oars, Minycos, 
 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 watch, scarce can a God 
 Set foot upon the fruit-besprinkled sod 
 That no snow ever covers { therefore haste, 
 Nor yet in wondering your fair lives waste ] 
 For these are as the Gods, nor think of us, 
 Nor to their eyes 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 weary 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 ceased, and little soothly did they grieve, 
 For all its loveliness, that land to leave, 
 For now some God had chilled their hardihead, 
 And in their hearts had set a sacred dread, 
 They knew not why ; but on their oars they hung, 
 A little longer as the sisters sung. 
 
 "0 ye, who to this place have strayed, 
 That never for man s eyes was 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. 
 
218 THE LIFE AND 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 unto worse all grew. 
 
 " But since the golden age is gone, 
 This little place is left alone, 
 Unchanged, unchanging, 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, 
 Nor 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, unfathomed sea of lore ; 
 And oft-kissed Citheraea, no less 
 Weary of love, full 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 
 Where-under old times buried lie, 
 Before the world knew misery. 
 Nor will we have a slave or king, 
 Nor yet will we learn anything 
 But that we know, that makes us glad, 
 While oft the very Gods are sad 
 With knowing what the Fates shall do. 
 
 " Neither from us shall wisdom go 
 To fill the hungering hearts of men, 
 
OF JASON. 219 
 
 Lest to them threescore years and ten 
 Come but to seem a little day, 
 Once given, taken soon away. 
 Nay, rather let them find their life 
 Bitter and sweet, fulfilled of strife, 
 Restless with hope, vain with regret, 
 Trembling with fear, most strangely set 
 Twixt 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 we watch from day to day, 
 In this green 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 when the air was barren of their song, 
 Anigh the shore they durst not linger long, . 
 So northward turned forewearied Argo s head, 
 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 hard they toiled upon the bitter sea, 
 And in two days they did not fail to be 
 In sight of land, a headland high and blue, 
 Which straight Milesian Erginus knew 
 To be the fateful place which now they sought, 
 Stormy Malea : so thitherward they brought 
 The groaning ship, and, casting anchor, lay 
 Beneath that headland s lee, within a bay, 
 Wherefroni the more part landed, and their feet 
 Once more the happy soil of Greece did meet. 
 
 Therewith they failed not to bring ashore 
 Rich robes of price and of fair arms good store, 
 
220 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And gold and silver, that they there might buy 
 
 What yet they lacked for their solemnity ; 
 
 Then, while upon the highest point of land 
 
 Some built an altar, Jason, with a band 
 
 Of all the chiefest of the Minyse, 
 
 Turned inland from the murmur of the sea. 
 
 Not far they went ere by a little stream 
 Down in a valley they could see the gleam 
 Of brazen pillars and fair-gilded vanes, 
 And, dropping down by dank dark-wooded lanes 
 From off the hill-side, reached a house at last 
 Wherein and out men slaves and women passed, 
 And guests were streaming fast into the hall 
 Where now the oaken boards were laid for all. 
 With these the Minyae went, and soon they were 
 Within a pillared hall both great and fair, 
 Where folk already sat beside the board, 
 And on the dais was an ancient lord. 
 
 But when these saw the fearless Minyse 
 Glittering in arms, they sprang up hastily, 
 And each man turned about unto the wall 
 To seize his spear or staff : then through the hall 
 Jason cried out : " Laconians, fear ye not, 
 Nor leave the flesh-meat while it yet is hot 
 For dread of us, for we are men as ye, 
 And I am Jason of the Minyae, 
 And come from ^Ea to the land of Greece, 
 And in my ship bear back the Golden Fleece, 
 And a fair Colchian queen to fill my bed. 
 And now we pray to share your wine and bread, 
 And other things we need, and at our hands 
 That ye will take fair things of many lands." 
 
 " Sirs," said the ancient lord, " be welcome hoi 
 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 
 Ye now are come." 
 
OF JASON. 221 
 
 Therewith the great hall rang 
 With joyful shouts, and as, with clash and clang 
 Of brass and steel, up to the dais they went, 
 All eyes upon the Minyse were bent, 
 Nor could they have enough of wondering 
 At this or that sea-tossed victorious king. 
 
 So with the strangers there they held high feast, 
 And afterwards the slaves drove many a beast 
 Down to the shore, and carried back again 
 Great store of precious things in pack and wain ; 
 Wrought gold and silver, gems, full many a bale 
 Of scarlet cloth, and fine silk, fit to veil 
 The perfect limbs of dreaded Goddesses ; 
 Spices fresh-gathered from the outland trees, 
 And arms well-wrought, and precious scarce-known wine, 
 And carven images well-nigh divine. 
 
 So when all folk with these were satisfied, 
 Back went the Minyae to the water-side, 
 And with them that old lord, fain 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 by the gilt-horned beasts. 
 There, as the fair sun rose, did Jason break 
 Over the altar the thin barley-cake, 
 And cast the salt abroad, and there were slain 
 The milk-white bulls, and there red wine did rain 
 On to the fire from out the 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, 
 
222 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 From time to time in pleading song and prayer, 
 Swept by the wind about the summer air, 
 Clear rung the voices of the Minyae 
 Unto the dashing of the conquered sea, 
 That far below thrust on by tide and wind 
 The crumbling bases of the headland mined. 
 
 BOOK XV. 
 
 BUT on the morrow did the Minyre 
 Turn Argo s head 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 
 Seemed all the strange things they had seen erewhilc, 
 Now when they knew the very green sea s smile 
 Beneath the rising and the setting sun, 
 And their return they surely now had won 
 To those familiar things long left behind, 
 When on their sails hard drave the western wind. 
 
 So past Euboea did they run apace, 
 And swept with oars the perilous green race 
 Betwixt Cerinthus and the islands white ; 
 But, when they now had doubled that dread height, 
 The shields that glittered upon Argo s side 
 They drew inboard, and made a shift to hide 
 Her golden eye and gleaming braveries, 
 And heaped the deck witli bales of merchandise, 
 And on their yards sails patched and brown they bent, 
 And crawling slowly, with six oars they went, 
 Till Argo seemed like Mme Phoenician 
 Grown old and leaky, on the water wan. 
 
OF JASON. 223 
 
 Now at the entering of their own green bay 
 There lies an island that men call to-day 
 Green Cicynethus, low, and covered o er 
 With close-set trees, and distant from the shore 
 But some five furlongs, and a shallow sea 
 Twixt 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 sail 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 full-leaved boughs of spreading maple-trees, 
 And covered Argo s seaward side with these. 
 And then the shipmen did Medea bid 
 To hold a shallop ready, while she hid 
 Her lovely body in. a rough grey gown 
 And heavy home-spun mantle coarse and brown, 
 And round about her a great wallet slung, 
 And to her neck an uncouth image hung 
 Of Tauric Artemis, the cruel maid. 
 
 Then, all being ready, to the prince she said : 
 " well-beloved, amongst our foes I go 
 Alone and weak, nor do I surely know 
 If I shall live or die there ; but do thou 
 Keep a watch ever, who from off the prow 
 Shall look towards white lolchos o er the bay, 
 And watching, wait until the seventh day, 
 And if no sign thou 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 ; 
 
224 THE LIFE AND 
 
 Yet do I think thou wilt be man enow 
 
 Unto the white-walled 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 thou wilt soon forget, 
 
 When 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 hand, 
 
 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 began to say : 
 " Weep not, love, for surely many a day 
 May we be merry and forget all ill, 
 Nor have I yet 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 me the day, 
 Then shall thy wakeful watch see o er the bay 
 Smoke in the day-time, red flame in the night, 
 Kise 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 Kurydamas, 
 But when the keel dragged on the rank sea-grass, 
 
OF JASON. 225 
 
 She stepped ashore, and back the hero turned 
 Unto his fellows, who, with hearts that burned, 
 Unto the quays to bring great Argo s stein, 
 And gain the glory that was waiting them, 
 Watched ever for the sign across the bay, 
 Till nigh the dawning of the seventh day. 
 
 But from the shore unto a thick-leaved wood 
 Medea turned, drawing both cloak and hood 
 Right close about her, lest perchance some man, 
 Some hind, or fisher in the water wan, 
 Should wonder at her visage, that indeed 
 Seemed little worthy of that wretched weed. 
 
 In that thick wood a little stream there was, 
 That here was well-nigh hidden of the grass, 
 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 laid 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 linen from her body fair, 
 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 since the wind was hushed that noon of day, 
 And moveless down her tack the long locks lay, 
 Her very self an image seemed to be, 
 Wrought in some wondrous faint-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 mouse-ear 
 
 20* 
 
226 THE 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 in a while, sighing, she turned away, 
 And, going up to where the wallet lay, 
 She opened it, and thence a phial drew 
 That seemed to be well wrought of crystal blue, 
 Which when she had unstopped, therefrom she poured 
 Into the hollow of an Indian gourd 
 A pale green liquor, wherefrotn there arose 
 Such scent as o er some poisonous valley blows, 
 Where nought but dull-scaled 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 more 
 Unto the woodland brook, but, hurrying, 
 Drew on her raiment, and made haste to sling 
 Her wallet round about her, nor forgot 
 The Tauric image, ere the lovely spot 
 She left unto the rabbit and the roe. 
 
 And now straight toward lolchos did she go, 
 But as she went, a hideous, fearful change 
 Had come on her ; from sunken eyes and strange 
 She gazed around ; white grew her golden hair, 
 And seventy years her body seemed to bear ; 
 As though the world that coppice had passed by 
 For half an age, and caught her presently, 
 When from its 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, 
 
OF JASON. 227 
 
 Rich and gold-bearing lands, would I do this ; 
 But yet with tliee to gain good peace and bliss 
 Far greater things would I have done to-day." 
 
 So saying, she made haste upon her way, 
 Until at last, when it was well-nigh night, 
 She reached the city crowned with towers white, 
 And passing by the brazen gates of it, 
 Forewearied, by a fountain did she sit ; 
 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, where dwelt long ago 
 My fathers, if perchance folk yet may know 
 Where they lie buried, that on that same stone 
 I may lie down and die ; a hapless one, 
 Whom folk once 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, 
 Arid 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, 
 Whom 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 V 
 And certainly, though nought of gold I have, 
 In the far northland did I gather lore 
 Of this and that amid my labour sore ; 
 
228 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And chiefly of this Goddess, rites I know, 
 Whose 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 be 
 E en as the Gods, and gain eternity, 
 And how the work of years may be undone." 
 
 When she had finished, the Thessalian crone, 
 Filling her jar with water, turned and said : 
 
 " Surely, Athenian, I am sore afraid, 
 Ere thou 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 to save : 
 But hearken now, if thou art wise and bold, 
 Then will I show thee how thou mayst earn gold 
 And thanks enow, 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 toil, 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 Latona s daughter erst have heard, 
 Nor trembled at the heavy dreadful word." 
 
 Then on they passed, and, as they went, the crone 
 Told her how 2Eson 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 .^Eetes had been fain 
 To trap the Argo, all had been in vain, 
 Yet had he gone back well-nigh satisfied ; 
 
OF JASON. 229 
 
 For in the night to him a voice had cried 
 Louder and clearer than a mortal can : 
 " Go back to ^Ea, sun-begotten man, 
 And there forget thy daughter and thy fleece, 
 But yet be 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 woes, 
 Lo, thus it happeneth now unto thy foes ! 
 
 This, said the crone, a Colchian had told 
 To Pelias, dweller in the house of gold, 
 And had large gifts from 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 he did give, 
 What would his gifts be if thou mad st him live 
 His life again, with none of all his name 
 Alive, to give him fear of death or shame ? " 
 With that they came unto the royal house 
 Where Pelias dwelt, grown old and timorous, 
 Oppressed with blood of those that he had slain, 
 Desiring wealth and longer life in vain. 
 
 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 peaceful garden sung, 
 Like 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, rolling o er, drown grass and flowers and all, 
 And draw on towards her, who no whit could move, 
 Though from the high land Jason, her own love, 
 Was shouting out to her; so then, at last, 
 
230 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 She dreamed the waters over all had passed 
 And reached her feet, and o er her coldly swept, 
 And still undrowned, beneath the waves she wept, 
 And still was 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 heard her say : 
 " Awake, guest, for yet another day 
 We twain must bear before we gain our rest. 
 But now indeed I think it to be best 
 That to my ladies I alone should show 
 That prayers, and rites, 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, thinking of this or that, 
 And wishing that the glorious day were come, 
 When she should set her love within his home, 
 A king once more. So, mid these thoughts, there came 
 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 out the wool 
 And filled the gleaming ivory shuttles full. 
 
OF JASON. 231 
 
 Ampliinome, meantime, her golden head 
 Bent o er the spinners of the milk-white thread, 
 And by the growing web still set aside 
 The many-coloured bundles newly dyed, 
 Blood-red, and heavenly blue, and grassy green, 
 Yea, and more colours than man yet has seen 
 In flowery meadows midmost of the May. 
 
 Then to the royal maids the crone gan say : 
 " Behold the woman, my mistresses, 
 Who midst the close-set gloomy northern trees 
 Has late learned that I told you of ; and ye 
 Who in this royal house live happily, 
 May well desire life for evermore, 
 Which unto me were but a burden sore." 
 
 Therewith she left them, but folk say, indeed, 
 That she who spoke was nought but Saturn s seed, 
 In very likeness of that woman old, 
 Whose body soon folk came on, dead and cold 
 Within the place where she was wont to dwell. 
 Now how these things may be, I cannot tell, 
 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. 
 
 O 
 
 But, she being gone, fair-limbed Amphinome 
 Said : " Reverend 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 whilst thou dwellest here, 
 But unto us shalt thou be lief and dear 
 As though thou wert the best of all our blood." 
 
 Hut, pondering awhile, Medea stood, 
 Then answered : " Lady, I am now grown old, 
 And but small gifts to me were heaps of gold, 
 Or rest itself, for that the tomb shall give ; 
 
232 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 I say, all things are nought, unless I live 
 
 So long henceforward, that I need not think 
 
 When into nothing I at last must sink ; 
 
 But take me now unto the mighty king 
 
 That rules this land, and there, by everything 
 
 That he holds sacred, let him swear to me 
 
 That I shall live in peace and liberty 
 
 Till quiet death upon my head is brought ; 
 
 But this great oath being made, things shall 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." 
 
 Then much they wondered at the words she said, 
 And from the loom did fair Alcestis rise, 
 And tali Amphinome withdrew her eyes 
 From the fair spinners, and Eradne left 
 The carding of the fine wool for the weft. 
 Then said Eradne : " Mother, fear not thou, 
 Surely our father is good man enow, 
 And will not harm thee : natheless, he will swear 
 By whatsoever thing he holdeth dear, 
 Nor needst thou have a doubt of him at all. 
 Come, for he sitteth now within the hall." 
 
 With that, she took 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 royal raiment drew 
 Through golden girdles, gemmed and richly wrought, 
 And forth with them the Colchian maid they brought. 
 But as unto the royal 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. 
 
 But when they reached the place, glittering and gay 
 With all the slain man s goods, and saw the king 
 
OF JASON. 233 
 
 Wearing his royal crown and mystic ring, 
 
 And clad in purple, and his wearied face, 
 
 Anxious and cruel, gaze from ^Eson s place, 
 
 A little thing it seemed to slay him there, 
 
 As one might slay the lion in his lair, 
 
 Bestrewn with bones of beast, and man, and maid. 
 
 Then as he turned to them, Alcestis said : 
 " lord and father, here we bring to thee 
 A wise old woman, come from over sea, 
 Who mid the gloomy, close-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 befall, 
 And this, the very chiefest thing of all, 
 To make the old man live his life again, 
 And all the lapse of years but nought and vain ; 
 But we, when these strange things of her we heard, 
 Trembled before her, and were sore afeard, 
 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, grew sore afeard, 
 As, sighing, he began to think of days, 
 Now long gone by, when he was winning praise, 
 And thought : " If so be 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, 
 Whatso 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, 
 Since thou hast mastered this all-saving art, 
 
 21 
 
234 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Keeping but vagrant life for thine own part, 
 Of what thou boastest with the Gods to share, 
 Thou, but a dying woman, nowise fair? " 
 
 " Pelias," she said, " far from the north I come, 
 But in Erectheus city was my home, 
 Where being alone, upon a luckless day, 
 By the sea-rovers was I snatched away, 
 And in their long-ship, with bound, helpless hands, 
 Was brought to Thrace, 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. 
 And 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 1 sat watching o er the heaps of stone 
 Where dwell the giants dead ; and many a time 
 
OF JASON, 235 
 
 Have my pale lips uttered the impious rhyme 
 That calls the dead from their unchanged abode ; 
 Till on my soul there lay a heavy load 
 Of knowledge, not without reward, for I 
 No longer went in rags and misery, 
 But in such 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 fear, 
 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 destruction ; and when these were learned, 
 At last my mistress all her wage had earned, 
 And to the world was dead for evermore. 
 
 " But me indeed the whole house hated sore, 
 First for my knowledge, next that, sooth to say, 
 I, when I well had passed my evil day, 
 And came to rule, spared not my fellows aught ; 
 Whereby this 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 beseech thy help, mighty King ! 
 Help me, that I myself may do the thing 
 I most desire, and this great gift give 
 To tliee and thine, from this time forth to live 
 In youth and beauty while the world goes by 
 With all its vain desires and misery. 
 
236 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 11 And if thou doubtest still, then hear me say 
 The words thou spak st upon a long-past day, 
 When thou wert fearful, and the half-shod man 
 Had come upon thce through 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 c rafty wile thou forgcdst ; at that tide 
 Telling the tale of Theban Athamas, 
 And how that Phryxus dead at ^Ea was. 
 Thinking (and not in vain) to light the fire 
 Of glorious deeds, and measureless desire 
 Of fame within the hearts of men o erbold. 
 
 " 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 bones of Phryxus in a tomb, 
 Or meet out to the Colchian his due doom. 
 
 " So saidst thou then, and by such words didst drive 
 Thy nephew in a hopeless game to strive, 
 Wherefore thou deemest wisely he 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 hands. But yet again she spoke : 
 " What if the Gods by me the strong chain broke 
 Of thy past deeds, ill deeds wrought not in vain, 
 And thou with new desires lived again V 
 Durst I still trust thee with my new-gained life ? 
 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 harmless is, 
 
OF JASON. 237 
 
 Nor wilt thou do me hurt, or more or less ; 
 Then while thy lips the ivory image press, 
 Will I call down all terrors that I know 
 Upon thine head if thou shouldst break thy vow. 
 
 "Yet 
 Or wilt 
 
 for thyself dost thou trust what I say, 
 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 life 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 threatenest death." 
 
 Then on the image did she swear the king, 
 Bat while he spoke was she still muttering, 
 With glittering eyes fixed on him ; but at last, 
 When from his lips the 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 morn 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 Ilissus side I trod, 
 A snare of beauty to a very God, 
 To young men s eyes a fierce consuming 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, 
 
 21* 
 
238 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Unto the women s chamber led her back, 
 And bade her say what matters she might lack. 
 
 Then little did she ask unto her need, 
 But fair cold water, and some fitting weed, 
 And in a close-shut 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-hung 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 unto the three. 
 And said : " Farewell, for no more shall ye see 
 These limbs alive, or hear 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 see 
 Grown young again ; alas ! grown young again ! 
 Would God that I were past the fear and pain ! " 
 
 So said the Colchian ; but their fearful eyes 
 Turned hastily from such hid mysteries 
 As there might lurk ; and to their bower they gat, 
 
OF JASON. 239 
 
 And well-nigh silent o er the weaving sat, 
 
 And did what things they needs must do that day, 
 
 Until that six hours space had passed away. 
 
 Then had the sun set, and the whitening moon 
 Shone o er the gardens where the brown bird s tune 
 Was quivering through the roses red and white, 
 And sweeter smelt the flowers with the night ; 
 But to the chamber 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 garden of the window made. 
 
 So now the royal sisters, sore afraid, 
 Each with a taper in her trembling hand, 
 Before the fateful chamber-door did stand 
 And heard no noise : whereon Amphinome 
 Pushed at the door, that yielded, and the three 
 Passing with beating hearts the oaken door, 
 Pressed noiseless feet upon the polished floor, 
 Reddening the moonshine with their tapers light. 
 
 There they beheld the caldron gleaming bright, 
 And on the floor the heap of raiment rent 
 That erst had hid the body old and bent ; 
 And there a crystal phial they beheld 
 Empty, that once some wondrous liquor held ; 
 And by the window-side asleep they saw 
 The Colchian woman white, without a flaw 
 From 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 well-loved man. 
 Softly she breathed, the while the moonlight ran 
 In silver ripples o er her hair of gold. 
 
 But when that loveliness they did behold, 
 They cried aloud for wonder, though not yet 
 Her happy dreaming thoughts would she forget, 
 
240 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 But into spoken words her murmuring grew, 
 Though of their purport nought the sisters knew, 
 Since in the outland Colchian tongue she spoke ; 
 Then, while they waited, slowly she awoke, 
 And looking round her, still with half-shut eyes, 
 She said : " damsels, fain would I arise, 
 I hear the morning murmur of the birds 
 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 tapers light, 
 And said : "0 queens, and are ye come to me 
 This eve, my triumph over time to see? 
 And is my boast for nought ? behold me made 
 Like the fair 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 stept adown 
 From off the silken couch, and rough and brown 
 They seemed beside her, fair maids though they were. 
 
 But silently they stood, and wondered there, 
 And from their hearts had flown all thoughts at last 
 But that of living while the world went past. 
 
 Then at her feet Alcestis knelt and prayed : 
 " 0, who can see thee, Goddess, unafraid ? 
 Yet thou thyself hast promised life to us, 
 More than man s feeble life, and perilous, 
 And if thy promise now thou makest vain, 
 How 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 ! " 
 
 Then spoke Medea : " Young as ye see me 
 The king, your father, in few days shall be, 
 And when that he has gained his just reward, 
 Your lives from death and danger will I guard ; 
 
OF JASON. 241 
 
 Natheless no Goddess am I, but no more 
 Than a poor wanderer from shore to shore, 
 Though loved by her the swift of Goddesses, 
 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, therefore, but come hither with the sun 
 To do my bidding ; then shall there be done 
 Another marvel ere the morn comes round, 
 If yet ye 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, 
 Arid as the fresh 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 kissing 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 awe 
 In the fresh morn that loveliness they saw. 
 
 Then said Medea : " Fair queens well be ye ! 
 Surely in happy hour ye come to me, 
 W T ho, if I might, would do the whole world good. 
 
242 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 But now take heed ; is there some close dark wood 
 
 Anigh the town ? 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 your 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 Gods ; there, too, must ye convey 
 
 A brazen caldron ere the end of day, 
 
 And nigh the place there must not fail to be 
 
 Some running stream to help our mystery. 
 
 Yet more ; take heed that She 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 ye be clad in smocks of black, 
 
 And all adornment must your bodies lack, 
 
 Nor must there be a fillet on your hair, 
 
 And the hard road must feel your fuet all bare." 
 
 " Lady," Eradne said, " all shall be done, 
 Nor wilt thou yet have had beneath the sun 
 More faithful servants than we are to thee ; 
 But wilt thou not the king my father see, 
 And gladden him, that he may give thee things 
 Such as the heart desires the spoil of kings ? " 
 
 " Nay," said Medea, " much have I to think 
 Ere the hot sun beneath the 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 the image of the swift-foot 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 tele. 
 
 But at the noontide did they bring her food, 
 
OF JASON. 243 
 
 Saying that all was ready in the wood, 
 And that the night alone they waited now, 
 Ere unto them those marvels she might show. 
 Therefore Medea bade them come again 
 When all the house of peaceful 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 Colchian, 
 Who did it on before their faces 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 corn 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, 
 But that the Colchian whispered : " Wise be ye, 
 Thessalian sisters, yet with certainty 
 Make onward to the wood, for who indeed, 
 Beholding our pale faces and black weed, 
 Would come the nigher to us V Would not he 
 Think that some dread things we must surely bo, 
 And tremble till we passed V 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 stood 
 An old horned ram bound fast unto a tree, 
 Which the torch-bearer, tall Amphinome, 
 Showed to Medea, and not far therefrom 
 Unto a brazen caldron did they come, 
 Hidden with green boughs ; then Medea bade 
 That by their hands a high pile should be made 
 Of fallen wood, and all else fit to burn ; 
 
244 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Which done, unto the caldron did they turn, 
 
 And bore it to the river, and did strain 
 
 Their fair round arms to bear it back again 
 
 When it was filled, and raised it on the pile. 
 
 And then with hands unused to service vile 
 
 Lit up the fire, while Medea took 
 
 Dried herbs from out her wallet, which she shook 
 
 Into the caldron ; till at last a cloud 
 
 Rose up therefrom and the dark trees did shroud. 
 
 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 Eradne thrust the knife, 
 While in the white arms of Amphinorne 
 And fair Alcestis, bleating piteously, 
 Feebly he struggled ; so being slain at last, 
 Piecemeal his members 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 say : 
 
 " thou that turnest night 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 still be wrong, and right be right 
 In all men s eyes ? A little thing I ask 
 Before I put an ending to my task." 
 
 Scarce had she finished, ere a low black cloud 
 Seemed closing o er the forest, and aloud 
 Medea cried : " Oh, strong and terrible ! 
 
 1 fear thee not, do what may please tliee well." 
 Then as the pale Thcssalians 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 fall, 
 
OF JASON. 245 
 
 As though some angry deity were fain 
 To make a pool of the Thessalian plain. 
 
 Till in a while it ceased, and all was stilled 
 Except the murmur of some brook new-filled, 
 And dripping of the thick-leaved forest trees 
 As they moved gently in the following breeze. 
 Yet still King Pelias daughters feared to rise, 
 And with wet raiment still they hid their eyes, 
 And trembled, and white-armed Amphinome 
 Had dropped the long torch of the resin-tree, 
 That lay half-charred among the tall wet grass. 
 But unto them did wise Medea 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 is 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 Colchian s naked feet, 
 As close he nestled 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 me 
 Ye now behold ; take, then, this new-born beast, 
 
 22 
 
246 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And hope to sit long ages at the feast, 
 And this your youth and loveliness to keep 
 When all that ye have known are laid asleep. 
 Yet steel your hearts to do a fearful thing. 
 Ere this can happen, for unto the king 
 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 be four days full bitter toil for me. 
 Take heed that silence, too, on this ye keep, 
 Or else a bitter 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 DOW 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 
 From out the north-west ere the sun 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 follow 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 close-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, 
 
OF JASON. 247 
 
 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, 
 Within the crowded market-place she stood, 
 And marked the talk of all 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 part. 
 
 For, going back, till the fifth day was gone 
 She dwelt within her chamber all alone, 
 Except that now and then the sisters came 
 To bring her food ; and whiles they saw a flame, 
 Strange-coloured, burning on the hearth, while she 
 Was bending o er it, muttering wearily, 
 And whiles they 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 morn : " Sister, 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 be 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 phial in her hand she set, 
 And said : " Who tasteth this will soon forget 
 
248 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Both life and death, and for no noise will wake 
 In two days space ; therefore this phial take, 
 And with the king s drink see ye mingle it, 
 As well ye may, and let his servants sit 
 O er wine so honeyed at the feast to-night. 
 Then certes shall their sleep not be so light, 
 That bare feet pattering across the floor, 
 Or unused creaking of an open door, 
 Shall rouse them ; though no deadly drug it is, 
 But bringer of kind sleep and dreamy bliss. 
 
 " But now, what think st thou ? Are your hearts so good, 
 That ye will dare to shed your father s blood 
 That he 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 fire 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 
 For all her faithful servants : ye did see 
 Late in the green-wood how she lovetb me. 
 
 " Therefore be wise, and when to-night ye draw 
 The sharp-edged steel, glittering without a flaw, 
 Cast fear and pity from you. Pity him 
 I bid you 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 last year ends, 
 Babbling 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, 
 Shall he live honoured, free from fear or strife." 
 
 " Fear not," Krailnc said, " our will to-night, 
 For all thy bidding will we do outright, 
 
OF JASON. 249 
 
 Since still a Goddess thou dost seem to be 
 
 To us poor strugglers 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 all nights, close by there 
 
 My father sleeps, as oft his custom is, 
 
 When he is fain a Mysian girl to kiss, 
 
 Sea-rovers sold to him three months agone. 
 
 There after midnight we shall be alone 
 
 Beyond all doubt, since this place by the sea 
 
 A temple is of some divinity, 
 
 Whose very 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 Colchian won much praise, 
 And promises of many happy days. 
 
 Then as upon the door she laid her hand, 
 Medea said : " When midnight hides the land, 
 Come here to me, 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 clad 
 As in the wood that other night ye had." 
 Then did Eradne leave her, and the day 
 Through sunshine and through shadow passed away. 
 
 But with the midnight came the sisters three 
 To lead her to that temple by the sea, 
 And in black raiment had they hurried there 
 With naked feet, and unadorned loose hair, 
 E en as the other night Medea bade, 
 Except that each one had a trenchant blade 
 Slung round her neck, wherewith to do the deed. 
 
 22* 
 
250 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Of these Alcestis trembled like the reed 
 Set midmost of some quickly running stream, 
 But with strange fire Eradne s eyes did gleam, 
 And a bright flush was burning on her cheek, 
 As still her fingers the sharp steel did seek ; 
 While tall Amphinome, grown pale and white 
 Beyond all measure, gazed into the night 
 With steady eyes, as with the queen they went 
 To that lone place to work out their intent. 
 
 So when all courts 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, set 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 Minyae came adown unto that shore 
 From fair Orchomenus, of whose rites indeed, 
 And to what Gods the victim then did bleed, 
 Men 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 side only, toward the restless sea ; 
 And there a terrace, wrought full cunningly, 
 Clear of the pillars hung above the sand. 
 
 Now went those maids, groping with outstretched hand 
 Betwixt the pillars of the undercroft, 
 
OF JASON. 251 
 
 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 murmuring 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 stood around ; 
 And, as they spoke, to them the faint low sound 
 Of their own whispered voices 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 hair, 
 And scant black 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 be, 
 And to such misery shall such a king 
 Lead wife arid child, and every living thing 
 That trusts him." Then she said : " Leave me alone, 
 And go and do that which were better done 
 Ere any streak of dawn makes grey the sky. 
 And come to me when ye have seen him lie 
 Dead to his old life of misdeeds and woe." 
 
252 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Then voiceless from the torchlight did they go 
 Into the darkness, and she, left alone, 
 Set by the torches till the deed was done 
 Within the pillars, and turned back again 
 With eager eyes to gaze 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 unused 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 carelessly, 
 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 swift footsteps she began to pace 
 Betwixt the narrow limits of the place ; 
 But as she turned round 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 vshe hear 
 Sounds like the shuffling steps of those that bear 
 Some heavy thing, and, as she gazed, could SGQ 
 
OF JASON. 253 
 
 The thin black raiment of the sisters 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 by 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 fane, 
 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 so at last the body down they laid 
 Close by the caldron, and Eradne said : 
 
 " thou, our life and saviour ! 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 pall 
 Which she had seen laid over either knee, 
 The wonder of King ^Eson s treasury, 
 W 7 hich wise Phoenicians for much coined gold, 
 And many oxen, years agone had sold 
 To jEson, when folk called him king and lord. 
 
 Then to 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 thing it was, 
 And saw indeed the face of Pelias. 
 
254 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Then o er her pale face a bright flush there came, 
 And, turning, did she set the torches flame 
 Unto the dry brands of the well-built pyre, 
 And, standing back, and waving from the fire 
 The shuddering girls, somewhat thereon she cast, 
 Like unto incense : then with furious blast 
 Shot up a smokeless flame into the air, 
 Quivering and red, nor then did she forbear 
 To cry aloud, in her old Colchian tongue, 
 Proud words, and passionate, that strangely rung 
 Within the poor bewildered sisters ears, 
 Filling their hearts with vague and horrid fears. 
 
 " love ! " she said, " love ! sweet delight ! 
 Hast thou begun to weep for me this night, 
 Dost thou stretch out for me thy mighty hands 
 The feared of all, the graspers of the lands ? 
 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 beside 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 flame 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, 
 
OF JASON. 255 
 
 And when he saw that ruddy flame outblaze, 
 
 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 fate." 
 
 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 Cicynethus woody shore. 
 
 For in mid-channel there, with every 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 
 Rang out from Jason s mouth, and in the sea 
 The cable splashed, and straight the Minyae 
 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 lolchos did they take their way. 
 
 Meanwhile the Colchian queen triumphantly 
 Watched the grey dawn steal forth above the sea, 
 Still murmuring softly in the Colchian tongue, 
 While o er her head the flickering fire hung, 
 And in the brazen caldron s lips did gleam ; 
 
256 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Whercfrom went up a great white cloud of steam, 
 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 Amphinome, 
 And said : " Queen, look o er the whitening sea, 
 And tell us now what thing it is we lack 
 To bring our 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 ? 
 We are king s daughters still, and with us still 
 Are men who heed nought but to do our will ; 
 And if thou fall st into the hands of these, 
 Thou shalt lament the gloomy northern trees 
 And painless 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 these impious words, and answer me, 
 Else shall I try if the green heaving sea 
 Will hide from all these impious blood-stained hands, 
 Or bear them far away to savage lands, 
 That know no good or evil ; speak, speak ! 
 1 low can I pray thee when all words are weak I 
 AVhat gifts, what worship, shall we give to thee ? " 
 
OF JASON. 257 
 
 E en as she spoke, Medea seemed to see 
 A twinkling light far off amidst the bay, 
 Then from the suppliant hand she drew away, 
 Nor turned to her ; but looking seaward still, 
 She cried : " love ! yet shalt thou have thy fill 
 Of wealth, and power, and much desired fame, 
 Nor shall the Grecian folk forget my 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 all hope had passed. 
 But fair Alcestis, grovelling on the ground, 
 And crying out, cast both her arms around 
 Medea s knees, and panting, and half-dead, 
 Poured forth wild words, nor knew the words she said. 
 While the two others, mad with their despair, 
 Ran wailing through the pillars here and there, 
 Nor knew indeed what thing had come on them, 
 For now, at last, fair Argo 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 i 
 And dost thou think that I am such an one 
 That what the Gods have unmade I can make ? 
 Lo ! with the dead shall Pelias awake, 
 And see such things as dead men s eyes may see." 
 
 Then as Alcestis, moaning wretchedly, 
 Fell 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 fame ? 
 
 23 
 
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 gain ; and thus do all men do, 
 And win such wages as have happed to you. 
 
 " Rise up and gaze at what the fates have wrought, 
 And all the counsels they have brought to nought 
 On this same morn. Hearken the dash of oars 
 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 raises 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 the half-shod man." 
 
 E en as she spoke, the keel had touched the sand, 
 And catching up her raiment in her hand, 
 She ran with speed, and gained 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 the 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 see. 
 
 But when he saw her hurrying him to meet, 
 With wild wind-tangled hair, and naked feet, 
 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 next, his band 
 Had caught her slim wrist, and he shouted out : 
 
OF JASON. 259 
 
 " Ashore, heroes ! and no more have doubt 
 That all is well done we have wished were done ; 
 By this my love, by this the glorious one, 
 The saviour of my life, the Queen of Love, 
 To whom alone of all who are above, 
 Or on the earth, will I pour wine, or give 
 The life of anything that once 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 left that lay, 
 Then, smiling joyously, did Jason say : 
 
 " heroes, tell me, is not the day won ? 
 Look how the sun s rays now are stealing on, 
 And soon will touch that temple s marble feet 
 Where stood the king our parting keel to greet, 
 But the great golden image of the God 
 Holds up, unlighted yet, his crystal rod, 
 And surely ere the noon shall gleam on it 
 Upon my father s throne his son shall sit, 
 Hedged round with spears of loyal men and true, 
 And all be done that we went forth to do." 
 
 But, midst their shouting, spoke the queen again : 
 " Jason, behold hereby this ancient fane 
 Amidst its pillars let 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 the slayer of thy sire, 
 Who, soothly, shall not flee from them to-day, 
 Nor curse the men who carry him away." 
 
260 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Then forth Mencetius and Nauphius stood, 
 Lynceus the keen, and Apheus of the 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-beat side ; 
 There midst her silken curtains did she hide, 
 And taking forth the fairest weed she had, 
 In many a fragrant fold her body clad, 
 And on her feet bound golden sandals fair, 
 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 had 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 close-set pillars, thinking oft 
 That now the whole round world should be undone. 
 
 But while they trembled, ^Eson s glorious son 
 Bade men make onward toward the market-place, 
 That there he might the wondering townsfolk face 
 For war or peace whichever it might be ; 
 But first upon a great oar carefully 
 They bound a spar crosswise, and hung thereon 
 That guarded marvel that their arms had won, 
 And as a banner bore it well aloft. 
 And fair 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, 
 
OF JASON. 261 
 
 Had sent them forth to what he deemed their end, 
 They through the palace courts began to wend, 
 Not stayed of any, since the guards indeed 
 Still slept, made heavy by the drowsy weed 
 Eradne in their wine erewhile did steep. 
 And other folk, just risen 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 out for joy, beheld the Fleece, 
 And that fair 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 JEson 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 like a dream, with flood of tide, 
 As for the far-off ancient fane she made ; 
 And that thereon his anchor straight he weighed, 
 And made good haste the landing-place to gain. 
 "For certes," said he, " Pelias is slain, 
 
 23* 
 
262 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And we are free once more." So saying, he passed 
 From house to house, and reached the gates at last ; 
 Nor any saw him more on land or sea, 
 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 fail them on that day, 
 And many a man of weeping there was fain. 
 
 At last did Jason set his foot again 
 Upon the steps of that same ivory throne 
 Where once he fronted Pelias all alone, 
 And bare 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 slayer of his kin. 
 
 Then did he clasp the hand that lay within 
 His mighty and sword-hardened fingers brown, 
 And cried aloud above the shouting town : 
 
 " Tell me, people of my father s land, 
 Before whose ivory well-wrought throne I stand, 
 And whose fair-towered house mine eyes behold, 
 Glittering with brazen pillars, rich with" gold? 
 
OF JASON. 263 
 
 "A while ago we sailed across the sea, 
 To meet our deaths, if so the thing must be, 
 And there .had died, had not the kind Gods been, 
 Who sent to us this lovely Colchiari queen 
 To be 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 the soft wind and the Grecian sea, 
 Until this morn our keel triumphantly 
 Furrowed 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 were 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, 
 ^Eson, my father, and of other folk, 
 And how the whole land groaned beneath the yoke 
 Of this dead man, whom sure the Gods 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, but by my unarmed side 
 This Colchian 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, 
 Like what he was before these miseries 
 
 0? TH3 
 
 rtrwc 
 
264 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Fell on his head. But in no wise will T 
 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 behold, 
 Girt round with brazen pillars, bright with gold." 
 
 Then, ere he ceased, the people s shouts broke in 
 Upon his speech : " Most glorious of thy kin ! 
 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 the 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 square joyously, 
 Each careless what his neighbor s words might be ; 
 It sounded like some February mead, 
 Where thick the lustred 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 Echion s voice rang clear and strong, 
 As he cried silence ; then across the throng 
 Did Jason cry : " O people, thanked be ye, 
 That in such wise ye give yourselves to me. 
 
OF JASON. 265 
 
 And now, friends, what more is there to say 
 But this ? Be glad, and feast this happy day, 
 Nor spend one coin of your store for this ; 
 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 longs to me. 
 
 " And ye, loved companions o er the sea, 
 Come to my golden house, and let us 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 ceased, 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 all the temples of that city fair, 
 And royal gifts they gave the great Gods 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 the king might show. 
 
 Then still more did the royal man rejoice, 
 
266 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And o er the people, lifting up his voice, 
 
 Cried : " See, Thessalians, who is on my side, 
 
 Nor fear ye now but 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 where dwells the sluggish white-felled bear." 
 
 So spake he, glad past words ; and for the rest 
 Did Juno love him well since his great quest 
 Had brought home bitter death on Pelias, 
 And his love s words had brought the thing to pass, 
 That o er his heal was hanging, since the day 
 When from Sidero dead he turned away, 
 And as with Neleus 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 bade 
 That straightway should a royal tomb be made 
 To lay him in, anigh the murmuring sea, 
 Wl ere, celebrating their great victory, 
 They might do honour to his head recrowned, 
 And mid their shouts all mourning might be drowned, 
 Nor gladden the slain Pelias lonely shade 
 By weeping o er the slaughter he had made. 
 
 Therefrom unto his own house Jason came, 
 He had not entered since the night his name 
 Rang twixt the marble walls triumphantly, 
 And all folk set their hearts upon the sea. 
 So now again, when shadows gan 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 the maidens flower-scattering hands 
 Seemod better prizes than well-peopled lands. 
 
OF JASON. 267 
 
 Glorious and royal, now the deed was done, 
 Seemed in that hall the face of every one, 
 Who, twixt the thin plank and the bubbling sea, 
 Had pulled the smooth oar-handle past his knee. 
 Tuneful each voice seemed as the heroes told 
 The marvels that their eyes did erst behold, 
 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 were wont to feed. 
 
 And she who all 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 JEiSi of old times, ere mighty fate 
 Brought Argo s side from out the dashers twain, 
 Betwixt the rainbow and the briny rain. 
 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 ; 
 
268 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Yea, ere they parted, glimmering light had come 
 From the far mountains, nigh the Colchian s home, 
 And in the twilight birds began to wake. 
 
 But the next morn, for slaughtered JEson 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, unto many lands 
 They bore the story of their wandering. 
 
 And now is Jason mighty lord and king, 
 And wedded to the fairest 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 fame, and youth that knows no dread 
 Of any horrors lurking far ahead 
 Across the sunny, flowered fields of life : 
 Youth 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 XVII. 
 
 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 
 
OF JASON. 269 
 
 Had but some portion of that mastery 
 
 That from the rose-hung lanes of woody Kent 
 
 Through these five hundred years such songs have sent 
 
 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, 
 
 Thames stream scarce fettered bore the bream along 
 
 Unto the bastioned bridge, his only chain. 
 
 Master, pardon me, if yet in vain 
 
 Thou art my Master, and I fail to bring 
 
 Before men s eyes the image of the thing 
 
 My heart is filled with : thou whose dreamy eyes 
 
 Beheld the flush to Cressid s cheeks arise, 
 
 As Troilus rode up the praising street, 
 
 As clearly as they saw thy townsmen meet 
 
 Those who in vineyards of Poictou withstood 
 
 The glittering horror of the steel-topped wood. 
 
 Ten years have passed, since in the market-place 
 The hero stood with flushed and conquering face, 
 And life before him like 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 still abides the Colchian, 
 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. 
 But in these ten sweet years of rest and peace 
 Two fair man-children has she borne to him, 
 Who, joyous, fair of face, and strong of limb, 
 
270 THE LIFE 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 beech-trees grow, 
 And, with a grey old woman tending them, 
 Shall make an ^Ea of some beech-tree s stem, 
 About whose roots there stands the water black. 
 Nor of the fleece shall they have any lack, 
 For in the bushes hangs much tangled wool 
 From 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 home here also ; on the spot of ground 
 Twixt 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 band. 
 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 Symplegadee, 
 And when again she rushed across the bar, 
 With King ./Eetes following her afar, 
 And when at length the heroes laid 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 grey rocks that oYrlop (Ynehrese, 
 Sent echoes of sweet singing o er the sea. 
 
OF JASO.\. 271 
 
 For then the keel the maidens went about 
 Singing the songs of Orpheus, and the shout 
 Of rough-voiced sea-folk ended every song ; 
 And then from stem to stern they hung along 
 Garlands of flowers, and all the oars did twine 
 With garlands too, and cups of royal wine 
 Cast o er her stem ; and at the stern a maid, 
 Clad like to Juno, on the tiller laid 
 Her slender fingers, while anigh the stem 
 Stood one with wings and many-coloured hem 
 About her raiment, like the messenger 
 Who bears the high Gods dreadful words with her, 
 And through the sea of old that ste n did lead. 
 
 Lo, in such wise they honoured that great deed, 
 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 Thessalian willed it too. 
 
 Yet therefore Creon nowise bore him hate, 
 But reverencing the wise decrees of fate, 
 Still honoured him the more ; and therewith thought, 
 " 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 thought he brooded more and more, 
 And gan to hate the Colchian very sore, 
 And through the place, as lightly he might do, 
 He 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 faith and truth ; and as such oft will come, 
 When wise men speak them, to a ready home, 
 So here they did ; though soothly for his part, 
 He knew it not, nor yet his restless heart. 
 
272 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 But on a day it fell that as they sat 
 In Creon s porch, and talked of this or that, 
 The king said unto Jason : " Brave thou art, 
 But hast thou never fear within 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 as this one loveth me ? 
 Creon ! I am honoured here as thee ; 
 All do my will as if a God I were ; 
 Scarce cr.n 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 Petes 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 to unmake 
 Is her delight ; and certes for thy sake 
 She did all this thou sayest, yea, and more ; 
 
OF JASOX. 273 
 
 Seeing thee death-doomed on a foreign shore, 
 
 With hardy heart, but helpless ; a king s son, 
 
 But with thy thread of life well-nigh outrun ; 
 
 Therefore, I say, she did all this for thee, 
 
 And ever on the way to Thessaly 
 
 Bade thee do this or that, since still ye were 
 
 As void of helpful knowledge as of fear. 
 
 All this she did, and so was more than queen 
 
 Of thee and thine : but thou thine age is green, 
 
 Nor wilt thou always dwell in this fair town, 
 
 Nor through the wild wood hunt the quarry down 
 
 Bethink thee of the world thou mayst be king, 
 
 Holding the life and death of everything, 
 
 Nor will she love thee more, upon that day 
 
 When all her part will be but to obey ; 
 
 Nor will it then be fitting unto thee 
 
 To have a rival in thy sovereignty 
 
 Laid in thy bed, and sitting at thy board." 
 
 Now somewhat Jason reddened at that word, 
 But said : " Creon, let the thing be so ! 
 She shall be high the while that I am low, 
 And as the Gods 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 : " Yea, somewhat good it were 
 If thou couldst lead that life, 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, too full of hardihead ! 
 O thou ease-loving, little-thinking man, 
 Whate er thou doest, dread the Colchian ! 
 She will unmake thee yet, as she has made. 
 And in a bloody grave shalt thou be laid." 
 
 Then turning, to his palace went the king, 
 
 24* 
 
274 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 But Jason, left alone and pondering, 
 Felt in his heart a vague and gnawing fear, 
 Of unknown troubles slowly drawing near, 
 And, spite of words, the thing that Creon said 
 Touched in his heart that still increasing dread, 
 And he was moved by that grave elder s face, 
 For love was dying in that ten years space. 
 
 But Creon, sitting in his chamber, thought, 
 " Surely I think my hero may be brought 
 To change his mate, for in his heart I see 
 He wearies of his great 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 Creon 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 Cleonae ; 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 harbingered 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 chase 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 arid black." 
 
OF JASON. 275 
 
 " Nay," said the king, " surely we shall not lack 
 Soft golden beds such as old men desire, 
 Nor on the hearth the crackling of the fire, 
 For hereby is a little house of mine 
 Where dwells my daughter Glauce, 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 Jason followed him ; and when the sun 
 His burning course that day had well-nigh done, 
 The king and Jason came anigh the place 
 Where stood the house upon a swarded space 
 Amidst thick trees, that hedged it like a wall, 
 Whose shadows now o er half the place did fall, 
 While twixt their stems the low sun 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 shrine, 
 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 beech wood dense, 
 The scent of lilies rose up in the air, 
 And store of pea-fowl was there roosting there, 
 Or moving lazily across the grass. 
 
 But from the temple did the two kings pass 
 Unto a marble house that was thereby, 
 Not great indeed, but builded cunningly, 
 And set about with carven images, 
 Built in a close of slim young apple-trees ; 
 
276 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 A marble fountain was there nigh the door, 
 
 And there the restless water trickled o er 
 
 A smooth-hewn basin 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 sand, and earth, and flint, 
 
 Edged all about with fragrant blue-flowered mint, 
 
 Or hidden by the flat-leaved quivering sedge. 
 
 But from the pool s smooth-wrought and outmost edge 
 
 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, seeing 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 urn, 
 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 in heaven a joy, on earth a flame. 
 
OF JASOX. 277 
 
 Blushing, she came to Croon s saddle-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 to be, 
 
 But Jason, leader of the Minyse ? " 
 
 Somewhat she started at the glorious name, 
 
 And o er her face deeper the red flush came, 
 
 As she, with upraised face and shamefast eyes, 
 
 Said : " Welcome, winner of the guarded prize ! 
 
 Good hap it is indeed that thou art come 
 
 Unto my little-peopled woodland home. 
 
 Come then, my lords, to what awaits you here ; 
 
 Not spiced Maeotic wine or dainty cheer 
 
 Your lips shall taste, but of fair simple flowers 
 
 Your drink shall savour, and your meat shall be 
 
 Red-coated squirrels from the beechen tree." 
 
 Then fain to hide her eyes and blushing face, 
 She turned from them, and at a gentle pace 
 Unto the pillared porch she led the twain. 
 There they, alighting, the dark house did gain, 
 And there they ate and drank, making such cheer 
 As fasting men will do ; and still anear 
 Was Glauce to them, telling every maid 
 How such and such a thing should be arrayed ; 
 And ever the Thessalian s eager eyes 
 Did follow her, and to his heart did rise 
 Vague feelings of a new-found happiness. 
 
 But now as the round moon was growing less, 
 And waxing brighter, and of fitting food 
 The kings had eaten as they thought it good. 
 Then Creon said : "0 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 JEa did befall, 
 And what fate did as still he journeyed home " 
 
278 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Then unto 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, 
 When certain-seeming death he did abide 
 In King ^Eetes 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 her look 
 Sent fire through his veins ; yea, 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 M& did befall, 
 And what thou sawedst as thou journeyedst home, 
 And how it happed thee to thy land to come." 
 
 But ever as she spake she gazed at him, 
 And with new 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 know, 
 fair king s daughter, all I have to show." 
 And so the story of the Fleece began, 
 And how fair 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 pale 
 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 Ar<n) struggling with the unknown stream, 
 
OF JASON. 279 
 
 And all the wonders of their long-past quest, 
 And well-known faces long-time laid to rest. 
 
 But when the night was passed, and the great sun 
 Another day for all things had begun, 
 The kings, arising, unto Corinth rode. 
 But, ere they left the woodland fair abode, 
 Unto the Goddess did they sacrifice, 
 And on her altar, in such woodland wise 
 As huntsmen use, 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 ministring. 
 But when they turned once more unto the town, 
 The half-quenched censer did 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 face and calm grey eyes divine 
 He read his own destruction ; none the less 
 In his false heart fair Glauce s loveliness 
 Seemed that which he had loved his whole life long, 
 And little did he feel his old love s wrong. 
 
 Alas for truth ! each day, yea, hour by hour, 
 He longed once more to see the beechen bower, 
 
280 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And her who dwelt thereby. Alas, alas ! 
 
 Oft from his lips the hated words would pass : 
 
 wavering traitor, still unsatisfied ! 
 false betrayer of the love so tried, 
 Fool ! to cast off the beauty that thou know st, 
 Clear-seeing wisdom, better than a host 
 Against thy foes, and truth and constancy 
 Thou wilt not know again whate er shall be ! " 
 
 So oft he spoke words that were words indeed, 
 And had no sting, nor would his changed heart heed 
 The very bitterest of them all, as he 
 Thought of his woodland fair divinity, 
 And of her upturned face, so wondering 
 At this or that oft-told unheeded thing. 
 
 Yet whiles, indeed, old memories had some power 
 Over his heart, in such an awful hour 
 As that, when darksome night is well-nigh 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 fair fingers laid, 
 That unto him had brought such mighty aid. 
 Then, groaning, from her would he turn away, 
 And wish he might not see another day, 
 For certainly his wretched soul he knew, 
 And of the cruel God his heart that drew. 
 But when the bright day had come round again, 
 AVitli noise of men, came foolish thoughts and vain, 
 And, feeding fond desire, would he burn 
 Unto Cleonne 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 lie shrunk from her, yet knew it not, 
 She noted, and the stammering words and hot. 
 
OF JASON. 281 
 
 Wherewith, as she grew kinder, still he strove 
 To hide from her the changing of his love. 
 
 Long time she tried to shut her eyes to this, 
 Striving to save that fair abode of Miss ; 
 But so it might not be ; and day by day 
 She saw the happy time fade fast away ; 
 And as she fell from out that happiness, 
 Again she grew to be the sorceress, 
 Worker of fearful things, as 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 ? Art thou brought to nought 
 By that which erst, with wonders strangely wrought, 
 Thou madest live through happy days and long ? 
 Lo, now shall be avenged those poor maid s wrong, 
 Who, in that temple o er the murmuring sea, 
 Ran maddening here and there ; and now shall be 
 That word accomplished that I uttered then, 
 Nor yet believed that to all earthly men, 
 In spite of right and wrong, and love and hate, 
 One day shall come the turn of luckless 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 bared her shoulder sweet ; 
 Once more that night over the lingering fire 
 She hung with sick heart famished with desire ; 
 Once more she turned back when her work was done ; 
 
 25 
 
282 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Once more she fled the coming of the sun ; 
 
 Once more she reached her dusky, glimmering room ; 
 
 Once more she lighted up the dying gloom ; 
 
 Once more 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 slept, 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 the 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 fairest and the best 
 Of all her raiment ; this she held, and said : 
 " Jason, thy love is fair 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 
 Hid Cithersea, 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 the warp and watched the fine weft glide 
 Up from the roller, while from side to side, 
 Scarce seen, the shuttle flew from fingers thin 
 
OF JASON. 283 
 
 Of a dark Indian maid, whom gold did win 
 
 From some Phoenician, that loved nought but gold. 
 
 But sighing now the raiment to behold, 
 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, 
 Till it had drunk the moisture thoroughly; 
 Whereon she took it forth and laid 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 morn 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 full 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 reproachful eyes ; 
 Yet thinking of the chain of days and nights 
 Stretched out all barren of once-hoped delights, 
 A sorry thing life seemed to him to be, 
 
284 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And one path only from that misery 
 
 Seemed open to him where the fair girl stood, 
 
 Within the shadow of the beechen wood. 
 
 But while he wavered thus twixt love and fear, 
 And something of the old time grown too dear 
 To cast off lightly, Creon noted all. 
 And surely now had hope that should befall 
 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 morn, 
 Jason at last, by many troubles torn, 
 Mounted his horse, and toward Cleonae turned. 
 But as with pale face, and a heart that burned 
 To end all 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-day V 
 What do st thou then upon the stony way 
 That leads to Argolis? " 
 
 "0 King," said he, 
 " I am not meet for your solemnity, 
 Because the Gods to-day have made me sad ; 
 Nor knew I yet what feast here should be had, 
 But thought to-day to see my arrows fly 
 Within the green glades of the woods hereby." 
 
 " Nay," said the king; " full surely many a day 
 Of summer will there be to play this play, 
 But on this day to Cithernea s house 
 Folk go, both maids and young men amorous ; 
 Yea, elders 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 Cleoiux) erewhilc thou didst see, 
 
OF JASOX. 285 
 
 And she too goes with flower-bearing hands 
 To kiss the foot that on the tortoise stands." 
 
 So saying, did his ancient wily eyes 
 Behold the blood to Jason s brow arise, 
 And inwardly he laughed ; but Jason said : 
 " Yea, then, king, to chase my drearihead, 
 This were a fair sight for mine eyes to see ; 
 And since thou wiliest, I will go with thee." 
 
 Then lighting from his horse, beside the king 
 He stood, and talked of this or that light thing, 
 And saw meanwhile full many a broad-wheeled wain, 
 Filled with fair flowers from the unshorn plain, 
 Go toward the temple of the Cyprian queen, 
 And youths and maidens, wreathed about with green, 
 Pass, singing carols through the listening street. 
 
 At last the king said : " Come, 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 silken raiment red as blood, 
 Who had by her a gilded basket light, 
 Filled full of flowers woven for delight, 
 Wherefrom unto the passing kings they gave 
 Wreaths bound with gold, that somewhat they might have 
 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 swung censers high ; 
 Then to the precious shrine they drew anigh, 
 And forth stood 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, 
 
 25* 
 
286 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And hoping much, he made not any prayer 
 
 Unto the Goddess ; then amid the fair 
 
 Slirn 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 incense-cloud that ever went 
 
 Unto the half-seen golden roof above, 
 
 Amongst whose glimmering the grey-winged dove 
 
 Hung crooning o er his wrongs ; moreover there 
 
 The temple-damsels passed them, shy and fair, 
 
 With white limbs shining through their thin attire, 
 
 And amorous eyes, the hearts of men to fire, 
 
 Beneath their heavy crowns of roses red ; 
 
 And veiled sweet voices through the place did shed 
 
 Strange fitful 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 his 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 twined, 
 Enwrapping Jason, so that faint and dim 
 The fair show of the maidens was to him, 
 As each upon the altar laid adown 
 The flowers mingled with the golden crown, 
 And prayed her prayer, then passed behind the shrine. 
 
OF JASON. 287 
 
 At last from midst that cloud did Venus shine 
 Before the eyes of the Thessalian, 
 Who, with fixed eyes, and lips grown thin and wan, 
 Stared at the image, little though he saw, 
 But at her feet a sweet foce, grave with awe, 
 Just bending over toward the silver feet, 
 Which Grlauce with a timid kiss did greet, 
 And this being done, drew backward, murmuring 
 Her prayer to Venus : " Goddess, 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 face she raised, 
 And met his hungry eyes that on her gazed, 
 And stopped all trembling, letting fall adown 
 The hand that held the gold-enwoven crown. 
 
 Yet little anger Venus had therefor, 
 But rather smiled to see her learn her lore 
 Within her house upon her festal day. 
 
 But now upon the altar did she lay 
 Her ottering, and yet she finished not 
 Her prayer begun, though in her poor heart, hot 
 With thoughts of love, full many a prayer she prayed. 
 
 And now was all that pageant well arrayed 
 To pass about the temple, and her place 
 Did Glauce take with flushed and eager face ; 
 But on her finger did she loose a ring, 
 Which that same day the wise Corinthian king 
 Had given her ; therewith she went along, 
 Murmuring faint 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 desired face ; 
 And as the damsels at a gentle pace 
 Went by him, and for fear of him and awe 
 Shrunk back, and with their slender hands did draw 
 Closer about them the thin fragrant weed, 
 
288 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Still nought of all their beauty did he heed, 
 
 But into Glance s eyes appealingly 
 
 Still gazed, who, trembling like some snow-trapped dove, 
 
 From her soft eyes sent forth one look of love, 
 
 Then dropped the lids, as, blind with love and shame, 
 
 Unto the place where stood the kings she came. 
 
 And there her hand that down beside her hung 
 
 She raised a little, and her faltering tongue 
 
 Just framed the words : " love, for thee, for thee ! " 
 
 And with that word she trembled piteously, 
 
 In terror at the sound of her own voice. 
 
 And much did wily Croon then rejoice, 
 
 Looking askance, and feigning to see nought, 
 
 When he beheld those hands together brought. 
 
 But Jason, when those fingers touched his own, 
 Forgat all joys that he had ever known ; 
 And when her hand left his hand with the ring, 
 Still in the palm, like some lost, stricken thing, 
 He stood and stared, as from his eyes she passed. 
 And from 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 by 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, 
 
OF JASOX. 289 
 
 When day had passed all barren of her sight. 
 And at the last, that Creon, the old king, 
 Being prayed with gifts, and joyful of the thing, 
 Had given a day when these twain should be wed. 
 
 Meanwhile, the once-loved sharer of his bed 
 Knew all at last, and fierce tormenting fire 
 Consumed her as the dreadful day drew nigher, 
 And much from other lips than his she heard, 
 Till, on a day, this dreadful, blighting word, 
 Her eyes beheld within a fair 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 Gods 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 conquest 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 can I give my whole heart up to thee ? 
 
 I hear thee talk of old days thou didst know 
 Are they not gone i wilt thou not let them go, 
 Nor to their shadows still cling desperately, 
 Longing for things that never more can be ? 
 
 " What ! wilt thou blame me still 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, 
 
2 90 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 * 
 
 And certos won it, and my envied name 
 Was borne with 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 ringing in mine ears, 
 Heard long ago in that place free from fears, 
 Where no one wept above his fellow dead, 
 And looked at death himself with little dread. 
 The times are changed, with them is changed my heart r 
 Nor in my life canst thou have any part, 
 Nor can I live in joy and peace with thee, 
 Nor yet, for all thy words, canst thou love me. 
 
 " 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 thou goest shalt thou fare 
 As one for whom the G-ods have utmost care." 
 
 Yea, she knew all, yet when these words she read, 
 She felt as though upon her bowed-down head 
 Had fallen 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 once thoughts of some dreadful thing 
 Back to her mind some memory seemed to bring, 
 As she beheld the casket gleaming fair, 
 \V herein was laid that she was wont to wear, 
 
OF JASON. 291 
 
 That in the philter lay that other morn, 
 And therewithal unto her heart was borne 
 The image of two lovers, side by side. 
 
 Then with a groan the fingers that did hide 
 Her tortured face slowly she drew away, 
 And going up to where 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 
 Twixt 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 of Greece ! 
 Alas, Jason ! 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 part 
 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. 
 
292 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 " Yet of all times mayst thou remember one, 
 The second time that ever thou and I 
 Had met alone together mournfully 
 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 baneful light outstreamed, 
 Lighting the horror of that prodigy, 
 The only fence betwixt whose wrath and thee 
 Was this poor body. Ah ! thou knowest then 
 How thou beheld st the shadows of thy men 
 Steal silently towards Argo s painted head. 
 Thou knowest yet the whispered words I said 
 Upon that night thou never canst forget 
 That happy night of all nights. Ah ! 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 
 cast, 
 
 And round about once more shouldst look for me, 
 Who led thee o er strange land and unknown sea. 
 
 " And not in vain, O dearest ! not in vain ! 
 Would I not come and weep at all thy pain, 
 That I myself had wrought V would I not raise 
 Thy burdened head with hopes of happy days ? 
 Would T riot draw thcc forth from all thy woe? 
 And fearless by thy sido would T not go, 
 
OF JASON. 293 
 
 As once I went, through many unknown lands, 
 When I had saved thec 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 one last gift more from me, 
 To give thy new love, since men 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 this fair tunic let her limbs be clad, 
 But see that no sun falls 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 all be ended V If the dead 
 Have unto them some little memory left 
 Of things that while they lived Fate from them reft, 
 Ere life itself was reft from them at last, 
 
 to God these days at least were past, 
 And all be done that here must needs be done ! 
 
 26 
 
294 TIIE LIFE AND 
 
 11 Ah ! shall I, living underneath the sun, 
 I wonder, wish for anything again, 
 Or ever know what pleasure means, and pain ? 
 And for these deeds I do ; and thou the first, 
 woman, whose young beauty has so cursed 
 My hapless life, at least I save thee this 
 The slow descent to misery from bliss, 
 With bitter torment growing day by day, 
 And faint hope lessening till it fades away 
 Into dull waiting for the coming blow. 
 But thou, who nought of coming fate dost know 
 One overwhelming 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 they 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 thou shalt die his eyes shall see thine end 
 Ah ! if thy death alone could end it all ! 
 
 "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 quceu to-day " ? 
 What ! when I kneel in temples of the Gods, 
 Must I bethink me of the upturned sods, 
 And hear a voice say, " Mother, wilt thou come 
 And see us resting in our new-made home, 
 
OF JASON. 295 
 
 Since thou wert used to make us lie full soft, 
 
 Smoothing our pillows many a time and oft ? 
 
 mother, now no dainty food we need, 
 
 Whereof of old thou usedst to have such heed. 
 
 mother, now we need no gown of gold, 
 
 Nor in the winter time do we grow cold ; 
 
 Thy hands would bathe us 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 us all its lore. 
 
 Ah ! day by 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 praise : 
 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 
 Would I have hearkened to the hopes and fears 
 Of your first loves ! what rapture had it been 
 Your dear returning footsteps to have seen 
 Amidst the happy warriors of the land ! 
 But 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 Gods ! ye know not how to curse. 
 
 " 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, 
 Why didst thou slay us ere we came to know 
 That men die ? hadst thou waited until now, 
 An easy thing it had been then to die, 
 
296 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 bless." 
 
 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 scarce 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 forgetfulness 
 A little while from fury and distress. 
 
 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 very shame, that silver case 
 And what it held he 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 thou staridest in the hall. 
 Then unto thee shall all good things befall." 
 
 So to his rest he went, but, sooth to sny, 
 He slept but little till the dawn of day, 
 So troubled was his mind with many a thing, 
 
OF JASON. 297 
 
 And in his 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 blood and burning up with fire." 
 
 So there, twixt fear and shame and strong desire, 
 Sleepless he lay until the day began 
 The conqueror, the king, the envied man. 
 
 But on the chamber where sweet Grlauce 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-born Queen. 
 With that she murmured words of joy and love, 
 No louder than the grey, pink-footed dove, 
 When at the dawn he first begins his tale, 
 Not knowing if he means a song or wail. 
 
 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 Jason and his friends would bear her thence 
 With 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 in gay weed, rejoicing for that day, 
 
 26* 
 
298 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Since that their lords had bidden them rejoice, 
 And in the streets was many a jocund voice, 
 That carolled to the honour of the twain 
 "Who on that day such blissful life should gain. 
 
 But Jason set out from 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 Creon 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 the pathway of the travelling sun, 
 As toward the west he 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 Glauce by the hand, 
 And round about her did her damsels stand, 
 Making a ring gainst that sweet violence, 
 That soon should bear their lovely mistress thence. 
 While Glauce, 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 arms about her steal. 
 
 Meanwhile, her lover through the court had passed, 
 And at the open door he stood at last, 
 Amidst his friends, and, looking thence, he saw 
 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 next the hall 
 Was filled with darting flames from wall to wall, 
 
OF JASON. 299 
 
 And bitter screams rang out, as here and there, 
 Scorched, and with outspread arms, the damsels fair 
 Rushed through the hall; but swiftly Jason ran, 
 Grown in one moment like an old worn man, 
 Up to the dais, whence one bitter cry 
 He heard, of one in utmost agony, 
 Calling upon his once so helpful name ; 
 But when unto the fiery place he came, 
 Nought saw he but 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 Glauce, mingling with her name 
 The name of her that brought him unto fame, 
 Colchian Medea, who, for her reward, 
 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 as about the burning place he ran, 
 Full many a maid he met and pale-faced man, 
 Wild with 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. 
 
300 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 But they, bewildered sore, and timorous, 
 Gazed helplessly upon the 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 face, and half-burnt rich attire, 
 They fell back shuddering as his face they 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 he came, 
 Where gazed his folk upon the far-off flame, 
 And muttered low for fear and wofulness. 
 
 Then he knew not his own, but none the less 
 Into the court he passed, and his bright sword 
 Cast down and said : " What feeble, timid lord 
 Hides here when all the world is on a blaze, 
 And laughing, from their heaven the high Gods gaze 
 At foolish men shut in the burning place ? " 
 With that he turned about his haggard face, 
 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 tilings I know full well 
 Have set about me. Can I die again, 
 And in some lower hell forget the pain 
 My life is passed in now? " 
 
 And with that word 
 
 He cast his eyes upon his glittering sword, 
 And caught it up and set it to his breast, 
 
OF JASON. 301 
 
 And in one moment had he been at rest 
 From all his troubles, when a woman old, 
 His nurse in past times, did the deed behold, 
 And ran and caught the hero s mighty hand, 
 And hanging round 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 the yery sun looks black, 
 And wholesome air the whole world seems to lack, 
 Yet shalt thou yet have wealth of happy days, 
 And well-fulfilled 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 forgetfulness 
 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 were 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 scarce-known 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 thou 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 
 The townsman hears ere yet the morn is late, 
 While streets are void and shut is every gate ; 
 
302 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 But still they soothed him, and he fell asleep, 
 While at his feet good watch the crone did keep. 
 
 But what a waking unto him shall be ! 
 And what a load of shameful misery 
 His life shall bear ! His old love cast away, 
 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 ill. And she who thus had slain 
 Those 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 there long did dwell, 
 Whose after-life I list not here to tell. 
 
 But as for Jason, Creon now being slain, 
 And Corinth kingless, every man was fain, 
 Remembering Jason s wisdom and sharp sword, 
 To have the hero for their king and lord. 
 So on his weary brows they set the crown, 
 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 Cenchrese, 
 Lay Argo, looking o er the ridgy sea, 
 Being fain 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. 
 
OF JASON. 303 
 
 But when he reached the well-remembered keel, 
 The sun was for 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 barred ; 
 And grey shade from the hills of Cenchrese 
 Began to move toward the heaving sea. 
 
 So Jason, lying in the shadow dark 
 Cast by the stem, the warble 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-sweeping wings the gulls did go 
 About the breakers crying plaintively. 
 
 But Jason, looking out across the sea, 
 Beheld 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 .ZEa they had won, 
 And longings that had long been gathering 
 Stirred 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 thick-leaved crown 
 Of grey old Pelion, that alone I knew, 
 Great deeds and wild, and desperate things to do. 
 
304 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 " Ah the strange life of happiness and woe 
 That I have led, since my young feet did go 
 From that grey, peaceful, much-beloved abode ! 
 But now, indeed, will I cast off the load 
 Of memory of vain hopes that came to nought, 
 Of rapturous joys with biting sorrows bought. 
 The past is past, though I cannot forget 
 Those days, with long life laid 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 fair love, that loved me alone, 
 And made me that I am in all men s eyes ; 
 And like my hard-earned kingdom, my 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 dream, 
 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 bereft 
 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 V 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 
 The blue Symplcgades, still deeds may do. 
 For now the world has swerved from truth and right, 
 Cumbered with monsters, empty of delight, 
 And, midst all this, what honour I may win, 
 
OF JASON. 35 
 
 That she may know of and rejoice 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 her golden head, 
 
 And with the eyes of lovers newly wed, 
 
 How should we gaze each upon each again ! 
 
 " hope not vain ! surely not quite vain ! 
 For with the next returning light will I 
 Oast off my moody sorrow utterly, 
 And once 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 the Gold Fleece I won, 
 Still, here, some wild bull clears the frightened fields, 
 There a great lion cleaves the sevenfold shields, 
 There dwells some giant robber 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 shielded 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 fair peace 
 From out the hand of war, and calm delight 
 From the tumultuous horror of the fight." 
 
 So saying, gazing 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, 
 27 
 
306 THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 While now the sun had sunk behind the hill, 
 And from a white-thorn nigh a thrush did fill 
 The balmy air with echoing minstrelsy, 
 And cool the night-wind blew across the sea, 
 And round about the soft-winged bats did sweep. 
 
 So midst all this at last he fell asleep, 
 Nor did his eyes behold another day, 
 For Argo, slowly rotting all away, 
 Had dropped a timber here, and there an oar, 
 All through that year, but people of the shore 
 Set all again in order as it fell. 
 But now the stem-post, that had carried well 
 The second rafter in King Pelias hall, 
 Began at last to quiver towards its fall, 
 And whether loosed by some divinity, 
 Or that the rising wind from off the sea 
 Blew full upon it, surely I know not 
 But, when the day dawned, still on the same spot, 
 Beneath the ruined stem, did Jason lie 
 Crushed, and all dead of him that here can die. 
 
 What more? Some shepherd of the lone grey slope, 
 Drawn to the sandy sea-beach by the hope 
 Of trapping quick-eared rabbits, found him there, 
 And, running back, called, from the vineyards fair, 
 Vine-dressers and their mates, who through the town 
 Ere then had borne their well-filled baskets brown ; 
 These, looking on his dead face, straightway knew 
 This was the king that all men kneeled unto, 
 Who dwelt between the seas ; therefore they made 
 A bier of white-thorn boughs, and thereon laid 
 The dead man, straightening every drawn-up limb ; 
 And, casting flowers and green leaves over him, 
 They bore him unto Corinth, where the folk, 
 
OF JASON. 37 
 
 When they knew all, into loud wailing broke, 
 Calling him mighty hero, crown of kings. 
 
 But him ere long to where the sea-wind sings 
 O er the grey hill-side did they bear again. 
 And there, where he had hoped that hope in vain, 
 They laid him in a marble tomb carved fair 
 With histories of his mighty deeds ; and there 
 Such games as once he loved, yet being alive, 
 They held for ten days, and withal did give 
 Gifts to the Gods with many a sacrifice ; 
 But chiefest, among all the things of price, 
 Argo they offered to the Deity 
 Who shakes the hard earth with the rolling 
 
 And now is all that ancient story told 
 Of him who won the guarded Fleece of Gold. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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