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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON: 14 by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896)

Poet Analysis

First Line: O HAPPY SEAFARERS ARE YE
Last Line: WITHIN A COLD STRAIGHT HOUSE SHALL LIE.
@3The Sirens:@1 O 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.

@3Orpheus:@1 A little more, a little more,
O 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 God could stay us now,
Why do ye hang your heads and sigh,
Hindering for nought our eager prow?

@3The Sirens:@1 Ah, had ye chanced to reach the home
On which your fond desires were set,
Into what troubles had ye come?
Short love and joy and long regret.

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.

@3Orpheus:@1 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?

@3The Sirens:@1 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?

@3Orpheus:@1 Is not the May-time now on earth,
When close against the city wall
The folks are singing in their mirth,
While on their heads the May-flowers fall?

@3The Sirens:@1 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.

@3Orpheus:@1 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?

@3The Sirens:@1 No new delight July shall bring
But ancient fear and fresh desire,
And, spite of every lovely thing,
Of July surely shall ye tire.

@3Orpheus:@1 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?

@3The Sirens:@1 Set flowers upon thy short-lived head,
And in thine heart forgetfulness
Of man's hard toil, and scanty bread,
And weary of those days no less.

@3Orpheus:@1 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?

@3The Sirens:@1 When thou beginnest to grow old,
Bring back remembrance of thy bliss
With that the shining cup doth hold,
And weary helplessly of this.

@3Orpheus:@1 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?

@3The Sirens:@1 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?

@3Orpheus:@1 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?

@3The Sirens:@1 Ah! then the world is born again
With burning love unsatisfied,
And new desires fond and vain,
And weary days from tide to tide.

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.



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