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"Make haste, Prince Jason! For your life, make haste!" With one bound he leaped aboard. At sight of the glorious radiance of the Golden Fleece, the nine and forty heroes gave a mighty shout, and Orpheus, striking his harp, sang a song of triumph, to the cadence of which the galley flew over the water, homeward bound, as if careering along with wings!

MEDEA'S LOVE AND VENGEANCE.

BY WILLIAM MORRIS.

(From "The Life and Death of Jason.")

[WILLIAM MORRIS, English poet and art reformer, was born March 24, 1834; educated at Oxford, and was one of the Preraphaelites. His best-known poem is "The Earthly Paradise"; he has also written "The Defense of Guinevere,' "The Life and Death of Jason," "Sigurd the Volsung," "The Fall of the Niblungs," and smaller ones. In prose he wrote "The House of the Wolfings," "The Glittering Plain," etc. He founded a manufactory of household decorations to reform public taste, and a printing house for artistic typography. He was also a fervent Socialist. He died October 3, 1896.]

THE MEETING.

TURNING to Jason, spake the king these words: -
"Behold! O 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 overbold:

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!"

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: "Eetes, father, and good lord,
What is it thou wouldst have of me to-night ?"

"O daughter," said Eetes, "tell aright
Unto this king's son here, who is my guest,
What things he 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,
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 jeweled cup,

And said, "O prince, these hard things must ye do."

[See "The Golden Fleece" for the tasks set him.]

"But yet, think well

If these three things be not impossible
To any man, and make a bloodless end
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 gray 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 Minya."

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 loath, 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 Minyæ
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 bower she sat, made blind by fate. . . .

[She works sorceries in the woods during the night to save Jason's life.]

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 neighboring 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 between the city walls,

She heard the hollow sound of rare footfalls

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 gray things colored 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
O'ermastered both; so trembling, on the pin
She laid her hand, but ere she entered in
She covered up again her shoulder sweet,
And dropped her dusky raiment o'er her feet;

Then entering the dimly lighted room,

Where with the lamp dawn struggled, through the 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,
Came 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: "O 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,

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 along 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

VOL. II. 5

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 again.
Unscarred by any wound or drawn with pain,
Then said:

"Now, when Mars' plain is plowed 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 triest 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.

"But I will 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
Real fire of pine wood in some rocky place,
Wreathing around my body greedily,
A dreadful beacon o'er the leaden sea." 22
But Jason drew her to him, and he said:
"Nay, by these tender hands and golden head,

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