- A SHIP with shields before the sun,
- Six maidens round the mast,
- A red-gold crown on every one,
- A green gown on the last.
- The fluttering green banners there
- Are wrought with ladies' heads most fair,
- And a portraiture of Guenevere
- The middle of each sail doth bear.
- A ship with sails before the wind,
- And round the helm six knights,
- Their heaumes are on, whereby, half blind,
- They pass by many sights.
- The tatter'd scarlet banners there,
- Right soon will leave the spear-heads bare,
- Those six knights sorrowfully bear
- In all their heaumes some yellow hair.
- William Morris
- THE wind's on the wold
- And the night is a-cold,
- And Thames runs chill
- 'Twixt mead and hill.
- But kind and dear
- Is the old house here
- And my heart is warm
- Midst winter's harm.
- Rest then and rest,
- And think of the best
- 'Twixt summer and spring,
- When all birds sing
- In the town of the tree,
- And ye lie in me
- And scarce dare move,
- Lest the earth and its love
- Should fade away
- Ere the full of the day.
- I am old and have seen
- Many things that have been;
- Both grief and peace
- And wane and increase.
- No tale I tell
- Of ill or well,
- But this I say:
- Night treadeth on day,
- And for worst or best
- Right good is rest.
- William Morris
- GOLD on her head, and gold on her feet,
- And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet,
- And a golden girdle round my sweet;---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- Margaret's maids are fair to see,
- Freshly dress'd and pleasantly;
- Margaret's hair falls down to her knee;---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- If I were rich I would kiss her feet,
- I would kiss the place where the gold hems meet,
- And the golden girdle round my sweet---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- Ah me! I have never touch'd her hand,
- When the arriere-ban goes through the land,
- Six basnets under my pennon stand;---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- And many a one grins under his hood:
- "Sir Lambert de Bois, with all his men good,
- Has neither food nor firewood;"---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- If I were rich I would kiss her feet,
- And the golden girdle of my sweet,
- And thereabouts where the gold hems meet;
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- Yet even now it is good to think,
- While my few poor varlets grumble and drink
- In my desolate hall, where the fires sink,---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- Of Margaret sitting glorious there,
- In glory of gold and glory of hair,
- And glory of glorious face most fair;---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- Likewise tonight I make good cheer,
- Because this battle draweth near:
- For what have I to lose or fear?---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- For, look you, my horse is good to prance
- A right fair measure in this war-dance,
- Before the eyes of Philip of France;---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- And sometime it may hap, perdie,
- While my new towers stand up three and three,
- And my hall gets painted fair to see---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite--
- That folks may say: "Times change, by the rood!
- For Lambert, banneret of the wood,
- Has heaps of food and firewood;---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite;--
- "And wonderful eyes, too, under the hood
- Of a damsel of right noble blood:"
- St. Ives, for Lambert of the wood!---
- Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.
- William Morris
- PRAY but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,
- Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
- The summer night waneth, the morning light slips
- Faint and gray 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars,
- That are patiently waiting there for the dawn:
- Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold
- Waits to float through them along with the sun.
- Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,
- The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold
- The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun;
- Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn
- Round the lone house in the midst of the corn.
- Speak but one word to me over the corn,
- Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.
- William Morris
- What cometh here from west to east awending?
- And who are these, the marchers stern and slow?
- We bear the message that the rich are sending
- Aback to those who bade them wake and know.
- Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
- But one and all if they would dusk the day.
- We asked them for a life of toilsome earning,
- They bade us bide their leisure for our bread;
- We craved to speak to tell our woeful learning;
- We come back speechless, bearing back our dead.
- Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
- But one and all if they would dusk the day.
- They will not learn; they have no ears to hearken.
- They turn their faces from the eyes of fate;
- Their gay-lit halls shut out the skies that darken.
- But, lo! this dead man knocking at the gate.
- Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
- But one and all if they would dusk the day.
- Here lies the sign that we shall break our prison;
- Amidst the storm he won a prisoner's rest;
- But in the cloudy dawn the sun arisen
- Brings us our day of work to win the best.
- Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
- But one and all if they would dusk the day.
- William Morris
- I KNOW a little garden-close,
- Set thick with lily and red rose,
- Where I would wander if I might
- From dewy morn 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 close two fair streams are,
- Drawn from the purple hills afar,
- Drawn down unto the restless sea:
- Dark hills whose heath-bloom feeds no bee,
- Dark shore no ship has ever seen,
- Tormented 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,
- Whereby I grow 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.
- William Morris
- BUT, learning now that they would have her speak,
- She threw her wet hair backward from her brow,
- Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek,
- As though she had had there a shameful blow,
- And feeling it shameful to feel ought but shame
- All through her heart, yet felt her cheek burned so,
- She must a little touch it; like one lame
- She walked away from Gauwaine, with her head
- Still lifted up; and on her cheek of flame
- The tears dried quick; she stopped at last and said:
- "O knights and lords, it seems but little skill
- To talk of well-known things past now and dead.
- "God wot I ought to say, I have done ill,
- And pray you all forgiveness heartily!
- Because you must be right, such great lords--still
- "Listen, suppose your time were come to die,
- And you were quite alone and very weak;
- Yea, laid a dying while very mightily
- "The wind was ruffling up the narrow streak
- Of river through your broad lands running well:
- Suppose a hush should come, then some one speak:
- "`One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell,
- Now choose one cloth for ever; which they be,
- I will not tell you, you must somehow tell
- "`Of your own strength and mightiness; here, see!'
- Yea, yea, my lord, and you to ope your eyes,
- At foot of your familiar bed to see
- "A great God's angel standing, with such dyes,
- Not known on earth, on his great wings, and hands
- Held at two ways, light from the inner skies
- "Showing him well, and making his commands
- Seem to be God's commands, moreover, too,
- Holding within his hands the cloths on wands;
- "And one of these strange choosing cloths was blue,
- Wavy and long, and one cut short and red;
- No man could tell the better of the two.
- "After a shivering half-hour you said:
- `God help! heaven's colour, the blue;' and he said: `hell.'
- Perhaps you then would roll upon your bed,
- "And cry to all good men that loved you well,
- `Ah Christ! if only I had known, known, known;'
- Launcelot went away, then I could tell,
- "Like wisest man how all things would be, moan,
- And roll and hurt myself, and long to die,
- And yet fear much to die for what was sown.
- "Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
- Whatever may have happened through these years,
- God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie."
- Her voice was low at first, being full of tears,
- But as it cleared, it grew full loud and shrill,
- Growing a windy shriek in all men's ears,
- A ringing in their startled brains, until
- She said that Gauwaine lied, then her voice sunk,
- And her great eyes began again to fill,
- Though still she stood right up, and never shrunk,
- But spoke on bravely, glorious lady fair!
- Whatever tears her full lips may have drunk,
- She stood, and seemed to think, and wrung her hair,
- Spoke out at last with no more trace of shame,
- With passionate twisting of her body there:
- "It chanced upon a day that Launcelot came
- To dwell at Arthur's court: at Christmas time
- This happened; when the heralds sung his name,
- "`Son of King Ban of Benwick,' seemed to chime
- Along with all the bells that rang that day,
- O'er the white roofs, with little change of rhyme.
- "Christmas and whitened winter passed away,
- And over me the April sunshine came,
- Made very awful with black hail-clouds, yea
- "And in the Summer I grew white with flame,
- And bowed my head down--Autumn, and the sick
- Sure knowledge things would never be the same,
- "However often Spring might be most thick
- Of blossoms and buds, smote on me, and I grew
- Careless of most things, let the clock tick, tick,
- "To my unhappy pulse, that beat right through
- My eager body; while I laughed out loud,
- And let my lips curl up at false or true,
- "Seemed cold and shallow without any cloud.
- Behold my judges, then the cloths were brought;
- While I was dizzied thus, old thoughts would crowd,
- "Belonging to the time ere I was bought
- By Arthur's great name and his little love;
- Must I give up for ever then, I thought,
- "That which I deemed would ever round me move
- Glorifying all things; for a little word,
- Scarce ever meant at all, must I now prove
- "Stone-cold for ever? Pray you, does the Lord
- Will that all folks should be quite happy and good?
- I love God now a little, if this cord
- "Were broken, once for all what striving could
- Make me love anything in earth or heaven?
- So day by day it grew, as if one should
- "Slip slowly down some path worn smooth and even,
- Down to a cool sea on a summer day;
- Yet still in slipping there was some small leaven
- "Of stretched hands catching small stones by the way,
- Until one surely reached the sea at last,
- And felt strange new joy as the worn head lay
- "Back, with the hair like sea-weed; yea all past
- Sweat of the forehead, dryness of the lips,
- Washed utterly out by the dear waves o'ercast,
- "In the lone sea, far off from any ships!
- Do I not know now of a day in Spring?
- No minute of that wild day ever slips
- "From out my memory; I hear thrushes sing,
- And wheresoever I may be, straightway
- Thoughts of it all come up with most fresh sting:
- "I was half mad with beauty on that day,
- And went without my ladies all alone,
- In a quiet garden walled round every way;
- "I was right joyful of that wall of stone,
- That shut the flowers and trees up with the sky,
- And trebled all the beauty: to the bone,
- "Yea right through to my heart, grown very shy
- With weary thoughts, it pierced, and made me glad;
- Exceedingly glad, and I knew verily,
- "A little thing just then had made me mad;
- I dared not think, as I was wont to do,
- Sometimes, upon my beauty; if I had
- "Held out my long hand up against the blue,
- And, looking on the tenderly darken'd fingers,
- Thought that by rights one ought to see quite through,
- "There, see you, where the soft still light yet lingers,
- Round by the edges; what should I have done,
- If this had joined with yellow spotted singers,
- "And startling green drawn upward by the sun?
- But shouting, loosed out, see now! all my hair,
- And trancedly stood watching the west wind run
- "With faintest half-heard breathing sound--why there
- I lose my head e'en now in doing this;
- But shortly listen--in that garden fair
- "Came Launcelot walking; this is true, the kiss
- Wherewith we kissed in meeting that spring day,
- I scarce dare talk of the remember'd bliss,
- "When both our mouths went wandering in one way,
- And aching sorely, met among the leaves;
- Our hands being left behind strained far away.
- "Never within a yard of my bright sleeves
- Had Launcelot come before--and now, so nigh!
- After that day why is it Guenevere grieves?
- "Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
- Whatever happened on through all those years,
- God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.
- "Being such a lady could I weep these tears
- If this were true? A great queen such as I
- Having sinn'd this way, straight her conscience sears;
- "And afterwards she liveth hatefully,
- Slaying and poisoning, certes never weeps,---
- Gauwaine, be friends now, speak me lovingly.
- "Do I not see how God's dear pity creeps
- All through your frame, and trembles in your mouth?
- Remember in what grave your mother sleeps,
- "Buried in some place far down in the south,
- Men are forgetting as I speak to you;
- By her head sever'd in that awful drouth
- "Of pity that drew Agravaine's fell blow,
- I pray your pity! let me not scream out
- For ever after, when the shrill winds blow
- "Through half your castle-locks! let me not shout
- For ever after in the winter night
- When you ride out alone! in battle-rout
- "Let not my rusting tears make your sword light!
- Ah! God of mercy, how he turns away!
- So, ever must I dress me to the fight;
- "So--let God's justice work! Gauwaine, I say,
- See me hew down your proofs: yea, all men know
- Even as you said how Mellyagraunce one day,
- "One bitter day in la Fausse Garde, for so
- All good knights held it after, saw---
- Yea, sirs, by cursed unknightly outrage; though
- "You, Gauwaine, held his word without a flaw,
- This Mellyagraunce saw blood upon my bed---
- Whose blood then pray you? is there any law
- "To make a queen say why some spots of red
- Lie on her coverlet? or will you say:
- `Your hands are white, lady, as when you wed,
- "`Where did you bleed?' and I must stammer out: `Nay,
- I blush indeed, fair lord, only to rend
- My sleeve up to my shoulder, where there lay
- " `A knife-point last night:' so must I defend
- The honour of the lady Guenevere?
- Not so, fair lords, even if the world should end
- "This very day, and you were judges here
- Instead of God. Did you see Mellyagraunce
- When Launcelot stood by him? what white fear
- "Curdled his blood, and how his teeth did dance,
- His side sink in? as my knight cried and said:
- `Slayer of unarm'd men, here is a chance!
- "`Setter of traps, I pray you guard your head,
- By God I am so glad to fight with you,
- Stripper of ladies, that my hand feels lead
- "`For driving weight; hurrah now! draw and do,
- For all my wounds are moving in my breast,
- And I am getting mad with waiting so.'
- "He struck his hands together o'er the beast,
- Who fell down flat and grovell'd at his feet,
- And groan'd at being slain so young `at least.'
- "My knight said: `Rise you, sir, who are so fleet
- At catching ladies, half-arm'd will I fight,
- My left side all uncover'd!' then I weet,
- "Up sprang Sir Mellyagraunce with great delight
- Upon his knave's face; not until just then
- Did I quite hate him, as I saw my knight
- "Along the lists look to my stake and pen
- With such a joyous smile, it made me sigh
- From agony beneath my waist-chain, when
- "The fight began, and to me they drew nigh;
- Ever Sir Launcelot kept him on the right,
- And traversed warily, and ever high
- "And fast leapt caitiff's sword, until my knight
- Sudden threw up his sword to his left hand,
- Caught it, and swung it; that was all the fight,
- "Except a spout of blood on the hot land;
- For it was hottest summer; and I know
- I wonder'd how the fire, while I should stand,
- "And burn, against the heat, would quiver so,
- Yards above my head; thus these matters went;
- Which things were only warnings of the woe
- "That fell on me. Yet Mellyagraunce was shent,
- For Mellyagraunce had fought against the Lord;
- Therefore, my lords, take heed lest you be blent
- "With all this wickedness; say no rash word
- Against me, being so beautiful; my eyes,
- Wept all away to grey, may bring some sword
- "To drown you in your blood; see my breast rise,
- Like waves of purple sea, as here I stand;
- And how my arms are moved in wonderful wise,
- "Yea also at my full heart's strong command,
- See through my long throat how the words go up
- In ripples to my mouth; how in my hand
- "The shadow lies like wine within a cup
- Of marvellously colour'd gold; yea now
- This little wind is rising, look you up,
- "And wonder how the light is falling so
- Within my moving tresses: will you dare
- When you have looked a little on my brow,
- "To say this thing is vile? or will you care
- For any plausible lies of cunning woof,
- When you can see my face with no lie there
- "For ever? am I not a gracious proof---
- `But in your chamber Launcelot was found'---
- Is there a good knight then would stand aloof,
- "When a queen says with gentle queenly sound:
- `O true as steel, come now and talk with me,
- I love to see your step upon the ground
- "`Unwavering, also well I love to see
- That gracious smile light up your face, and hear
- Your wonderful words, that all mean verily
- "`The thing they seem to mean: good friend, so dear
- To me in everything, come here to-night,
- Or else the hours will pass most dull and drear;