Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Russia: Vol. XX. 1876–79.
The Palace of Æetes
By William Morris (1834–1896)A
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.
At last a temple, built in ancient days
Ere Æa 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
Æetes’ 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.
Hear all thou wouldst hear 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, O King, thy house is fair,
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, O 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 Minyæ 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 and 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 colored stones, wrought like a flowery mead;
And ready to the hand for every need:
Midmost the hall, two fair streams trickled down
O’er wondrous gem-like pebbles, green and brown,
Betwixt smooth banks of marble, and therein
Bright-colored 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 savor, 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.