Читать книгу A Selection from the Poems of William Morris - William Morris - Страница 25

Across the open sea they drew their wake For three long days, and when the fourth 'gan break Their eyes beheld the fair 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 Minyæ hearkened to this word, With many a thought their wearied hearts were stirred, 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 they were fain to sigh, Hearkening the sighing restless wind go by. But hard on even of 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 thymy hills' green wind-beat head, Where 'mid the whin the burrowing rabbits fed. And 'neath the cliff they saw a belt 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: "O 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. 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, O Thracian! if thou e'er 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 Minyæ 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, Under the grey cliff, hidden not of aught But of such mist of tears as in the eyes Of those seafaring men might chance to rise. A moment Jason gazed, then through the waist 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, 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 whom 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 Giving these souls, that all were men ere now, Shalt 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 the great sail drew, While o'er their white limbs sharp the spray-shower flew, Since they spared not to set white feet among The cold waves heedless of their honied song. Sweetly they sang, 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, If with my feeble voice and harsh I sing From what dim memories yet may chance to cling About men's hearts, of lovely things once sung Beside the sea, while yet the world was young.