[i]
This draft is the same as the published poem (with verbal alterations of Rhōdöpe changed to Rhodöpe) up to the top of p. 20. Then the incident of meeting the King’s men is different.
M.M.

[ii]
This manuscript was given by William Morris to Philip Webb by whom it was bequeathed to me
Emery Walker
7 Hammersmith Terrace
London W.
Nov. 28. 1915

[1]
A Grecian speaking folk there dwelt of yore
Whose name my tale remembers not between
The snowtopped mountains and the seabeat shore,
Upon a fertile stripe of land and green
Where seldom had the worst of summer been
And seldom the last bought of winter’s cold
Easy was life in garden field and fold

My tale says they dealt little with the sea
But for the mullet’s bright vermilion
And wonderous tunny, nor what thing might be
Beyond the mountains but the rising sun
They knew not nor as yet had anyone
Sunk shaft on hillside there or burned the stream
To see if neath its waves gold sand might gleam

Yet rich enow they were, deep uddered kine
Went lowing toward the byre in even tide
The sheep cropped close unto the well-fenced vine
Whose clusters hung upon the southering side
Of the fair hill, and the plain far and wide
Would change from brown through green to hoary gold
And the unherded moaning bees untold

Blindeyed to aught but blossoms ranged the land
Working for others—and the clacking loom
Within the homestead seldom still did stand
The spindles twirled within the spinning room
And often in the midst of winter's gloom
From off the poplar bulk would chips fly
Beneath some skilful hand watched by the idlers nigh.

Sometimes too would the foreign Chapmen come
And in a sandy bay their dromond beach
And then the women folk from many a home
With heavy laden took their way
And round the back keeled ship expend the day
And by the moon would come back light enow
With things soon looked oer for that rough wealth to show

Therefore of delicate array full & oft
Small lack there was in coffers of that land
And gold would shine on dainty shoulders soft
And jewels gleam on many a tender hand
And by the Altar would the good man stand
Upon the solemn days of sacrifice
Clad in attire of no such wretched price—

But the next morn that yellow headed girl
Would be afield or twixt the vine rows green
And on the goodman's forehead would no pearls
But rather sundrawn beaded drops be seen
And the bright share [illegible] the furrow clean
Or the thick swathe fell neath his sturdy stroke
For all must labour amid that simple folk

[2]
Now in a land where none were poor if none
Were lordly rich a certain man abode
Who nigher was perchance than any one
To being poor although no heavy load
Of fears for bread he bore adown life's road
But coming now unto his sixtieth year
Waning his wealth seemed his goods scant & bare

Why this should be none knew for he was deft
In all the simple craft of that fair land
Plough stilt and sickle and axeheft
As much as need be pressed his strong right hand
And creeping sloth he ever did withstand
Wedded he was and his grey helpmate too
Was skilled in all and ever wrought her due.

Yet did his goods decrease by end of dry
He cut his hay to lie long in the rain
And timorous must he see the time go by
For vintaging; and August came in vain
To his thin wheat his sheep by wolves were slain
His horse fell lame, and barren were his kine
His slaughtering stock would dwindle & would pine

All this befell him more than most I say
And yet he lived on gifts were plenty there
The rich man's wealth there never hoarded lay
And at a close - fist would the people stare
And point the finger as at something rare
Yet ever giving is a burden still
And fast our goodman trundled down the hill

Not always though had fortune served him thus
In earlier days rich had he been & great
But had no chick or child to bless his house
And much did it mislike him of his fate
And early to the Gods he prayed and late
To give him that if all they took besides
For still to fate's happats blind men will be guides

So on a day when more than 20 years
Had of childless wedlock had oppressed his wife
She spake to him with smiles and happy tears
And said be glad for ended is the strife
Betwixt us and the Gods, and oer past life
Shall be renewed to us the blossom clings
Unto the bough long barren the waste sings

Joyful he was of those glad words and went
A changed man through his household on that morn
And on his store up good he grew intent
And hugged himself on things he once did scorn
When life seemed quickly ended and forlorn
So fast the time till nigh the day was come
When a new voice should wail on its new home

March was it but a foretaste of the June
The earth had, and the budding linden grove
About the homestead with the brown bird's tune

[3 2]
Was happy and the faint blue sky above
The blackthorn blossom seemed [illegible] forlorn
For though the west wind breathed a thought of rain
No cloud [illegible] golden breadth did stain

That afternoon within his well hung hall
Amidst of happy thoughts the Goodman lay
Until a gentle sleep on him did fall
And he began to dream but the sweet day
The dream forgat not nor could wipe away
The picture of his home that seemed so good
For in his garden midst his dream he stood

Hand with his wife he seemed to be
And both their eyes were lovingly intent
Upon a little flower fair to see
Before their feet that through the fresh air sent
Sweet odours, but as o’er it [illegible] they leant
The day seemed changed, to cloudiness & rain
And the sweet flower whereof they were so fain

Was grown a goodly sapling and they gazed
Wondering thereat but loved it none the less
But as they looked a bright flame round it blazed
And hid it for a space, and weariness
The souls of both the good did oppress
And on the earth they lay down side by side
And then it seemed to them as they had died

Yet did they know that oer them hung the the tree
Grown mighty thickleaved and on each & every bough hung
A crown a sword a ship or temple fair to see
And therewithal a great wind through it sang
And trumpets blast there was and armour rang
Amidst that leavy world and now and then
Strange songs were sung in tongues of outland men

Amidst these sounds (at last) the Goodman heard ( )
A song in his own tongue sang and waking sat upright
And blinking at the broad bright sun that past
In through the open window making bright
The dusky hangings till his gathering sight
Showed him outside two damsels pail on head
Who went forth singing to the milking shed.

And meeting them with jingling bit and trace
Came the grey team from field a merry lad
Sat side ways on the foremost broad of face
Freckled and flaxen haired whose red lips had
A primrose twixt them yet still blithe & glad
With muffled whistle therewithal did mock
The maidens song and the black [illegible] cock

Then rose he merry hearted for his dream
Seemed nowise ill to think on rather he
Some echo of his own hopes it did deem
Rather than any certain prophecy
Of happy things in time to come to be—
As into the March sun he wandered forth
And all his goods now seemed of double worth

[4]
From barn to well stocked he past that eve
Smiling on all and wondering how it was
That anyone in such a world might grieve
At least for long at what might come to pass
The soft west wind the flowers amid the grass
The fragrant earth the sweet sounds every where
Seemed gifts too great almost for man to bear

Long wandered he the happiest of all men
Till day was gone & the white moon high
Cast a long shadow on the white stones when
He came once more his homestead door anigh
there stood a damsel watching and a cry
Burst from her lips when she beheld him come
She said O welcome to thy twice blest home

Thy wife hath borne a child a maiden fair
Come and behold it and give thanks withal
Unto the Gods that thus have heard thy prayer
Sweetly that voice upon his ears did fall
Twixt him and utter bliss no bounding wall
Seemed raised now , nor did end of life seem nigh
He had forgotten he must ever die

So on the morrow great feast did he hold
And all the guests with gifts were satisfied
And gladdened were the Gods of field and fold
With many a beast that at their altars died
How could the spring of all that wealth be dried
Nought did he deal with untried things and strange
Twixt year and year nought would the seasons

Well the next year grown had the child and thriven
Unto his hearts desire, and in his hall
Again was high feast held, and good gifts given
To the departing guests yet did it fall
That somewhat his goods minished therewithal
Yet his face lengthened not, but let it be
This year will raise the scale once more said he

So the time passed and with the childs increase
Did ill luck grow, till field by field
Fell his lands from him, nought he knew of ease
Yet little good hap did his labour yield
The Gods belike a new bag had unsealed
Of hopeless longing for him and his day
Mid restless yearning still must pass away—

So still things went until in that same year
Whereof I tell when 17 firsts of may
The maid had seen, she was so wonderous fair
That never yet the like of her had been
Within that land, and her divine soft mien
Her eyes and her soft speech now blessed alone
A house wherefrom all fair things else were gone

[5 3]
Yet who so gloomed thereat not she it was
Who with he grave sweet smile and heart unmoved
Watched wearied not nor pleased each new day pass
Nor thought of change at all as well behoved
By many men the damsel was beloved
Wild words she oft had heard and harder grown
At bitter tears about her fair feet strown

For far apart from these she seemed to be
Their joys and sorrows moved her not and they
Looked upon her as some divinity
And cursed her not though oft she seemed to lay
A curse on them unwitting and the day
Seemed grown unhappy to them, as she came
With eyes that thought of life as ill and shame

Across their simple merriment meanwhile
She laboured as need was nor heeded aught
What thing she did nor yet did aught seem vile
More than another than the long day brought
Unto her hands and as her father fought
Against his bitter she watched it all
As though in some strange play the thing did fall

And they who loved her yet a midst of fear
Would look upon her wondering even as though
They daring not her soul to draw anear
Yet what her longing was were fain to know
To what wise they within her heart were borne
Yea if she meeted out to them but scorn

Befel it in the Junetide midst things,
That on an eve within the bare great hall
When nigh the window the bats flittering wings
Were passing and the soft dew fast did fall
And oer the ferry far away did call
The homeward hastening goodman, that the three
Sat silent in that soft obscurity

Some tale belike unto the other twain
The goodman had been telling for he said
Well in the end their struggles were but vain
And went enough of them were hurt and dead
Needs must they cry for pardon by Joves head
That parley as sweet music did I hear
Who for an hour had seen grim death so near

Well then their tall ship did we take in tow
And beached her in the bay with no small pain
The painted dragonhead that ye note now
Grin at Joves temple door with gapings vain
And her steel beaks the merchant shapemans bane
We smote away with every second oar
We built that house of refuge nigh the shore

[6]
Then fell we unto ransacking her hold
And left them store of meal but took away
Armour fair cloths and silver things and gold
Rich raiment wine and honey and that day
Upon the shingle there we fellows law
And shared the spoil by drawing short and long
That was before my fate gan do me wrong

And fair things gat I two such casks of wine
And such a jar of honey as would make
The very Gods smile had they come to dine
Within this bare hall: ah my heart doth
O daughter Rhodope for thy sweet sake
When of the gold sewn purple robe I tell
That certes now had matched thy beauty well

What else, a crested helmet golden wrought
A bow and sheaf of arrows they hang—
and they with one thing else came not [illegible]
Of the things oer which the goodwife sang
When in the pavement first my great spear rang
And through the bay the terror of the sea
With clipped wings laboured slow and painfully

Take dow the bow goodwife, a thing of price
though unadorned therefore it hangeth there
For trusty is it in the wood, and wise
The arrows are to find the dappled deer
And mend our 4 days fast with better cheer
But for the other thing— the twilight fails
Amid these halfremembered woeful tales

So light the taper for a little while
To see a marvel— Therewith speedily
The goodwife turned and lighted up her smile
And yearning eyes turned full on Rhodope
As hoping there some eagerness to see—
But on the stars with fixed eyes still she stared
Nor turned with through the dusk the taper glared.

But to the great chest did the goodman go
And turning oer the coarser household gear
That lay therein aside did much stuff throw
Ere from the lowest depths his hand did bear
A silken cloth of red embroidered fair
Wrapped about something [illegible] upon the board
He laid and gan unfold the precious hoard

With languid eyes that hoped for little joy
Did Rhodope now turning gaze thereon
And wait the showing of the strange toy
In days long past by fear and good hath won
But yet a strange light from her bright eyes shone
When now the goodman did the cloth unfold
And showed the gleam of precious gems and gold

[7 4]
Because upon the silken cloth there lay
Twin shoes first made for some fair woman's feet
Wrought like the meadows of an April day
Pearls in the sunlight, dainty and most meet
To show in kings halls when the music sweet
Is at its softest, and the dance grown slow
The springing feet of dainty maids to show

But unto them now passed forth Rhodope
And blushing faintly gan the latchets touch
her slim brown fingers daintily
drew over the pearls then smiled over much
The thought of them and turned away to such
Rude work as then the season asked of her
With set face all that weary life to bear

Then said the bonder with a rueful smile
Upon her Chick or child I had not then
But riches wherewith fortune did beguile
My heart to hope for more and now again
That thou grow'st fairer than the seed of men
All goes from me let these must go withal
Now she has thrust me rudely to the wall.

Long have I kept them first for this indeed
That few men hereabout have will therefor
To pay me duly and the coming need
Still did I fear would make the past less sore—
And next because a man well skilled in lore
Grew dreamy oer them once and said that they
Bore with them promise of a changing day

Yet bread is life and while we live we yet
May turn a corner of this barren lane
And Joves high priest hath ever prayed to get
These fair things from me and still prayed in vain
Belike yoke of en might I gain
To turn the homefield deeper when the corn
Such as it to barn and stack is borne—

The meal ark groweth empty too and thou
O daughter worthy to be clad
In weed like this shall feel November blow
No blessings to thee casks staves must be had
Against the vintage seeing that men wax clad
Already oer the bunches, and the year
Men deem great wealth to all mens sons will bear

So daughter unto thee this charge I give
To take these things tomorrow morn with thee
Unto the priest and say that we must live
Therefore these fair things do I let him see
That he may say what he will give to me
That they may shine upon his daughters feet
When she goes forth the sacrifice to meet

[8]
Now as he spake again a bright flush came
Into her cheek and died away again
Then said the goodwife ah thou bearest shame
That we are fallen neath the feet of men
That thou goest like a slave what didst thou then
So coldly een on this mans son to look
That he thy scornful eyes no more might brook

But still Rhodope as though of stone
Her face was, but the bonder spake and said ;
Nay mother nay she is not such an one
As lightly to our highest to be wed
Before the crown of love has touched her head
Be patient hast thou not heard old stories tell
What things to such as her of old befel

Kindly he smiled at her as half he meant
The words he said but now her weary eyes
Cast on him one hard glance and then she bent
Over her work with a sigh
The goodman rose, and from a corner nigh
Took up some willow withes and so began
To shape the handle of a winnowing fan

But with the new sunrise might you behold
The maidens feet firm planted on the way
That led unto the vale where field and fold
About the temple of the thunderer lay
And the priest wrought a sturdy carle today
Within the hayfield or behind the plough
Tomorrow dealing with high things enow

First betwixt sunny fields the high way ran
With homesteads set betwixt and vineyards green
Now merry with the voice of maid and man
Who shouted greetings the green rows between
Whereto she answered softly as a queen
Who feels herself of other shape to be
Than those who worship her divinity

The black eyed shepherd slowly by her past
And from his face faded the merry smile
And down upon the road his eyes he cast
And strove with other names his heart to while
From thought of her for coarse he seemed and vile
Before her smileless face, oer which there shone
Some secret glory as a bright sun

That was for her alone— the mother stood
Within her door and as the gown of grey
Fluttered about and the coarse white hood
Flashed from the oak shade in the sunlit day
She muttered after her a go thy way
If thou wert set high up as thou art low
Thy poisonous heart then should we feel enow

[9 5]
But heeding little of the hearts of these
She went upon her way and going fast
She left the tilled fields and the cottages
For toward the mountain slopes the high way past
And turned unto the south and gan at last
To mount aloft twixt grassy slopes set oer
With red trunked pines and mossy rocks and hoar

Still fast she went although sun was high grown
For on strange thoughts and wild her heart was set
The things that lay in bosom of her gown
Seemed teaching hopes she would not soon forget
She clenched her hands her heartbeat quicker yet
On she went—so small so quickly done—
She cried O idle life beneath the sun

And here amid these fields and mountains grey
Drop after drop slowly it ebbs from me
And leaves no new thing gained day is like to day
face like to face as waves in some calm sea
With memory of our sad mortality
Pipes the dull tune of earth nought comes anigh
To give us some bright dream before we die

What sayst thou beautiful thou art and livest                   Would like to love
And men there are fair young and strong enow                  but see what cause
To take with thankful hearts een what thou givest                    beyond.
Love and be loved then nay heart dost thou know
How through thin flames of love thou still wilt show
The long grey road with mocking images
Ready to trap me if I think of these

Ah love they say and love! Shall not love fade
And turn a prison too barred with vain regret
And vain remorse that we so lightly weighed.
The woes midst which our stumbling feet were set
Stifling with thoughts we never can forget
Because live waneth while we strive to turn
And seek another thing for which to yearn.

So deem I of the life that holds me here
As though I were the shade of one long dead
Come back awhile from Plutos region drear
Unto the land were unremembered
My fathers are— lo now these words just said
This mossy grass my feet are passing o'er
That grey winged dove— has it not been before

Would then that I were gone and lived again
Another life if it must still be so
That life on life passes forgotten; vain
To still our longings that no soul can know
By what has been how this & this shall go
Because methinks I yet have heard men tell
How lives there were wherein great things befell

And mid such life might I forget the past
Nor think about the future but been glad
While round my head a dreamy veil I cast
I seemed to strive midst seeming good or bad

[10]
Till at the last some dream I might have had
That I was nigh a god [illegible] to be
Who dying yet should keep all memory

Of what I was nor change my hope and fear
All utterly to know why I was born
Nor come to loth what once to me was dear
Nor dwell amidst a world of ghosts forlorn
Nor see kind eyes and hear kind words with scorn
But now— O hills and fields abodes of men
Why are ye fair to mock my longings then?

With these words panting she turned and stood
High up upon the hillside and a fitful wind
Sung mournfully through a pine tree wood
That edged the borders of the pass behind
And made most fitting music to her mind—
But bright and hot the day of June did grow
And a fair picture spread out down below

The green hill slopes besprinkled oer with kine
And a grey neatherd wandering here & there
And then the greener squares of well propped vine—
The changing cornfields and the homesteads fair
The white road winding on that still did bear
Specks as of men and horses the grey sea
Meeting the dim horizon dreamily

A little while she gazed then with a sigh
She turned about and went on toward the pass
But slowly now as somewhat wearily
And murmuring as she met the coarser grass
Within the shade— What something moved I was
By hope and pity of myself well then
I shall not have that joy too oft again

So with bent head betwixt rocky wall and wall
Slowly she went and scarce knew what she thought
So many a picture on her heart did fall
Nor would she let one wish to her be brought
Of good or better—
The long rough road was nothing to her feet
Nor took she heed of aught her eyes might meet

Amid these thoughts intent at last she came
To where the road gan drop to the other vale
And started, for she heard one call her name
And to her mind came thoughts of many a tale
Of Gods who brought to mortals joy or bale
For so despite herself her thoughts would run
That all her joy of life was not yet done

But from the hillside came a dappled hound
That fawned upon her een as one he knew
And when she raised her eyes and looked around
She saw the man belike he longed unto
A huntsman armed and clad in gown of blue
Come clattering down the stones of that rock side
So there withal his coming did she bide

[11 6]
With something like a smile not all of bliss
For this was he of whom her mother spake
The high-priests son, who fain had made her his
For at the sight of him her heart did ache
With hapless thoughts and shame and scorn gan wake
Within her that she still would strive to lull
As how she called her cursed and beautifull

So while she gathered heart of grace to meet
The few words they might speak together there
He was beside her slim he was and fleet
Well knit with dark brown eyes and crisp black hair
Eager of aspect round chinned fresh and fair
And well attired as for that simple folk
Who in those days might bear no great mans yoke

Now his lip trembled and he blushed blood red
Then turned all pale again— O Rhodope
Right fair afast thou goest this morn he said
Hast thou some errand with my sire or me?
But therewithal as if unconsciously
He stretched out his right hand
Unto the maid
But like an image steady did she stand

But that her gown was fluttering in the wind
That came up from the pass she spake as one
That hath no care at heart— I thought to find
Thy father and to give to him alone
My fathers message what then is he gone—
He seemed to swallow somewhat in his throat—
These two nights maiden has he been afloat

Watching the tunnies if thou turnest again
Thou well mayst meet him coming from the sea
Nay said she neither wholly shall be vain
My coming here because I have with me
Small offerings meet to the divinity
from such as us, my mother bid me bear
To bless this midmost month of the glad year

In a good hour he said for have I done
Little against the beasts whereof to tell
So I will go with thee and till the sun
Is getting low in our house shalt thou dwell
And in the evening if it likes thee well
With helmet on the head and well strung bow
Beside thee to thine own home will I go

Nought spake she for a while and his heart beat
Quicker for thought of some short happiness—
But at the last her eyes his eyes did meet
She said few hearts this heart of mine will bless
And yet for thee will I do nothing less
Than save thee from the anguish of the strife
Wherewith thou fain wouldst make my life thy life

[12]
Thou art unhappy now but we may part
And to us both is left long lapse of time
To gain new bliss— what wouldst thou? To my heart
Cold now and alien are this folk and clime
And while I dwell with them no woe or crime
If so I may shall stain my garments hem
Thou art an image like the rest of them

Yea but an image unto me alone
For unto thee this world is wide enow
Full of warm hearts enow— so get thee gone
Upon thy way I am not fallen so low
As unto thee dreams of false love to show
Or for my very hearts own weariness
To give thee clinging life long sharp distress

Now fain I would unto the templestead
And if thou mayst do thou go otherwhere
For good it were that all thy hopes were dead
Since nought but bitter fruit they now can bear
He looked awhile at her as one who doth not hear
Or hears an outland tongue ill understood
And such a passion stung at his troubled blood

That she belike was nigher unto death
Than she might know yet did he turn at last
And clutching tight his shortsword's goldwrought sheath
Slowly along the seaward way he past
Nor backward at her any look he cast
For fate would not that his blind eyes should see
And if he had he had not seen may be
How on the hard way tears fell plenteously.

But not long did she stand but set her face                    hears a howl
Unto the downward road and had not fared
A may yards from that their meeting place
Before upon the wind a sound she heard
As though some poor wretch a great sorrow bared
Before the eyes of heaven and then her feet
With quicker steps the stony way did meet

And then she said O fate all left behind
I follow thee upon the bitter road
With weary feet and heavy eyes and blind
That leadeth to thy far unknown abode
No need then with these stings my flesh to goad
Keep them for those that strive with thee in vain
And leave me to my constant weary pain

Now the pass widening to her eyes did show
The little vale hemmed in by hills around
Wherein was Joves house rising great enow
Some two miles thence upon a rising ground
And with fair fields as a green girdle bound
And guarded well by long low houses white
All orchards for fruit and gardens for delight

Far offlike little spots of white she saw
The long winged circling pigeons glittering
Above the roofs the noise of rook and daw
Came sweet upon the wind from the dark ring

[13 7]
Of elms that hedged the cornfields; with wide wing
The fork-tailed restless kite sailed over her
Hushing the twittering woods larks crouched anear

She stayed now gazing downward, at her feet
A dark wood clad the hollow of the hill
And its green edge a little lake did meet
Whose waters smooth, a babbling stream did still
And toward the temple stead stretched on until
Green meads with oak-trees set gan hem it in
And from his nether end the stream did win

She gazed and saw not heard and did not hear
She said once more have I been vehement
Have spoken out as if I knew from where
Come good and ill or whither they are sent
As though I knew whereon I was intent
So knowing that I know not een as these
Who think themselves as Gods and Goddesses

To know both good and evil must I do—
Yet again in this wise shall it be
While here I dwell nor shall false hope shine through
My prison bars false passion jeer at me
With what might hap with I were changed and free
The end shall come at last and find me here
Desiring nought and free from any fear

So saying but with face that cleared not yet at all
Rather with trembling lips upon her way
Once more she went: North did shadows fall
It grew unto the hottest of the day
And round the mountains did the sky wax grey
For cloudlessness Junes sceptre oer the earth
If rest it gave kept back some little mirth

At last upon the bridge that crossed the stream
Just ere it met the lake she set her feet
And walked on swiftly een as one clean lost
In thought till at the end her knee did meet
A dragging bough briar rose whose blossoms sweet
Were dragging in the rose. She stooped thereto
And patiently the hooked green thorns she drew

From out her garments hem, and cast aside
The dusty bough then from the dusty road
She turned and oer the parapet she eyed
The broad blue lake the basking pikes abode
And the dark oak wood were the pigeons cooed
Amid the deepest shade some stroke of bliss
Came oer her then amidst her weariness

Drowsy she felt and wearied with the way
And so wearied that it brought no pain
She drew her arms from off the coping grey
And oer the bridge went slowly back again
As though no whit of purpose did remain
Within her mind, but when the other end
She came unto, she turned and gan to wend

Along the streams side till it widened out
Into the breezy lake and even there there
The wood began so then she turned about

[14]
And shading her grave eyes with fingers fair
Beneath the sun beheld the temple glare
Oer the far tree tops— then she cast her down
Within the shade on last years oak leaves brown

There as she lay at last her fingers stole
Unto the things that in her bosom lay
She drew it forth and slowly gan unroll
The silken cloth until a wandering ray
Upon the shoes bright braveries gan play
Through the thick and with a flickering smile
She gan her mind with stories to beguile

Pondering for whom those dainty things were wrought
And in what land and in what wondrous wise
She missed the gift to them and what things brought
The thieves to their land— until her eyes
Fell on her own gear wrought in homely guise
And with a half smile she let fall the gold
And clustered gems her slim brown hand did hold

And there she lay and looked up at the sky
Between the leaves a while growing drowsier
So still that the grey rabbit hobbled by
And the slim squirrel twisted over her
As one to heed not as if none were near
The woodpecker slipped up the smooth barked tree
The waterhen clucked nigh her fearlessly

But in a little while she woke and still
Felt as if dreaming all seemed far away
But present rest both hope and fear and ill
The sun was past the middle of the day
But bathed in flood of light the still world lay
And all was quiet but for faint noises made
By the woodcreatures wild and unafraid

From out her slip some poor coarse food she drew
And ate with dainty mouth then oer the strip
Of dazzling sun light where the daisies grew
Upon the bubbling streamlets grassy lip
She went with shades and there did dip
her hollow hand into the water grey
And drank and to the shade took her way

There neath the tree bole lay the dainty shoes
And over them she stood awhile and gazed
Then stooped adown as one who might not choose
And from the grass one by the latchet raised
And with the eyes of one by slumber dazed
Did off her own foot gear, and one by one
Did the bright things her dainty feet upon

Then to the thick wood slowly did she turn
And through its cool shade wandered till once more
Thinner it grew and the spots of sun did burn
Upon her jewelled feet till lay before
Her upraised eyes a bay with sandy shore
And twixt the waves and the birds abiding
There lay a treeless sunlight grassy space

[15 8]
Friendly the sun the bright flowers and the grass
Seemed now once more— smiling with upraised gown
Slowly unto the waters did she pass
And on the grassy edge she cast her down
Once more and quick the latter hours had flown
And less the sun burned there awhile she lay
Watching a little breeze sweep up the bay

Shallow it was a shore of hard-white sand
Met the green herbage and as clear as glass
The water rippled over that dainty strand
Until it well nigh touched the flowery grass.
A dainty bath for weary limbs it was
And so our maiden thought belike for she
Gan put away her raiment languidly

Until at last from out her poor array
Lovely and she rose een as that other One
Rose up from out the ragged billows grey
For earths dull days and heavy to atone
and like another sun her gold hair shone
So stood she still awhile then stooped & raised
The glittering shoes and one them long she gazed—

As on strange stars that thus had brought her there
Then cast them by so that apart they fell.
And in the sunlight glittering lay and fair
Like the elves flowers hard and lacking smell
Then to the grass she stooped and bud and bell
Of the Junes children gat into her hand
And therewith went down the little strand—

And let the little waves wash oer her feet
Before she tried the deep then toward the wide
Sunlitten space she turned and gan to meet
The freshness of the water cool and sighed
For pleasure as the little rippling tide
Lapped her about, and slow she wandered on
Till many a yard from shore she now had won

There as she played she heard a birds harsh cry
And turning to the hillside could she see
A broad winged eagle hovering anigh
And long she watched him sweeping wings and free
Dark gainst the sky then turned round leisurely
Unto the bank and saw a bright red ray
Shoot from a great gem on the sea pirates prey

Then slowly through the water did she move      down on the changing ripple
With face unto the changing ripple cast              gazing still
As loth to leave it then once more above

[16]
her golden head there rang the erns voice shrill
Grown nigher now, she turned unto the hill
And saw him not and once again her eyes
Fell on the strange shoes wondrous braveries

And even therewithal a noise of wings
Flapping and close at hand again the cry
And then the glitter of those dainty things
Faded as the huge bird fell suddenly
And rose again
To cry after him for now did she behold
Within his claws the gleam of gems and gold

Awhile she looked at him as circling wide
He soared aloft and still for awhile could see
The gold shoe glitter till the wooded side
Of the green mountain hid him presently
And she gan laugh that such a thing could be
So wrought by fate for little did she fear
The lack of wealth and hard and pinching cheer

But when she was aland again and clad
And turned back through the wood a sudden thought
Shot through her heart and made her somewhat glad
Small things she said her feet thereto had brought
Perchance this strange thing would not be for nought
And therewithal stories she gan to tell
Unto her heart of how such things befel

In olden days and yet might be again
She stopped and from her balmy bosom took the shoe
Yet left and turned it oer and oer in vain
To see if she therein saw aught of new
To tell her what all meant— and thus she drew
Unto the woods edge and once more sat down
Upon the fresh grass and the oak leaves brown

And so beneath the quickly sinking sun
She took to her her foot gear cast aside
And scarce beholding them she did them on
And while the pie from out the ash tree cried
Over her head arose and slowly hied
Unto the road again and backward turned
Up to the pass and red behind her burned

The sunless sky and scarce awake she seemed
As gainst the hill she toiled and when at last
Beneath the moon far off the grey sea gleamed
When now the rugged mountain road was passed
Back from her eyes the wandering locks she cast
And oer her cheeks the warm tears ran as she
Told herself tales of what she yet might be

But cold awakening had she when she came
Unto the half deserted homesteads gate
And needs must turn herself to take the blame
That from her mother did her deed await
Without a slaves halffrightened frown at fate
Must harden yet her heart once more to face
Her fathers wondering sigh at his hard case

So when within the dimly lighted hall
Her mother's wrath brake out when she did hear
Her story and her fathers knife did fall

[17 9]
Clattering thereat, then seemed all life so drear
Hapless and loveless and so hard to bear
So little worth the bearing that a pang
Of very hate from out her heart up sprang

With cold eyes but a smile on her red lips
She watched them how her father stooped again
And took his knife up and once more the chips
Flew from the bowl halffinished but in vain
Because he saw it not. She watched the pattering rain
Fall from her mother’s eyes as she bewailed
How all the joy in her one child had failed

But when her mothers words to sobs were turned
Her father rose, and took her hands in his
And then with sunken eyes for love that yearned
He said the years change sure somewhat of bliss
Awaits thee, and enough for me it is
Trouble and hunger shall not chase me long
The walls of one abiding place are strong

And thither now I go apace my child
Askance she looked at him with steady eyes
But when saw that midst his words he smiled
With trembling lips— then in her heart gan rise
Strange thoughts that troubled her like memories
Changed her face she drew her hands from him
And yet before her eyes his face grew dim

Then down the old man sat and now began
To talk of how their life was and their needs
In cheerful strain and even as a man
Unbeaten yet by fortunes spiteful deeds
Spoke of the troublous twisted way that leads
To peace and happiness till to a smile
The goodwifes tearful face he did beguile

So slipped the night away and the June sun
Rose the next morn as though no woe there were
Upon the earth, and never any one
Was blind with woe or bent by useless care
But small content was in the homestead there
Despite the bright eyed June for unto two
Life seemed to hold too much for men to do

And to the third empty of deeds it seemed
A dragging dullness changed by here a pain
And here a hope dreamed waking or sleeping
and still waking or sleeping dreamed in vain
For how should anything be loss or gain
When still the order of the world went round
Unchanging while the wall of death did bound

The foolish struggles of the sons of men
So said she oft nevertheless her heart
With changing thought that rose and fell
Full oft would beat when as she sat apart
And to her white brow would the red blood start
And she would rise nor know whereon she trod
And forth she walked as one who walks with God

[18]
Oftener belike that dull and heavy mood
Oppressed her and when any folk were nigh
Little she spake either of bad or good
And not so much as to look scornfully
Now might she heed the folk that were thereby
Unless perchance her father came anear
Then would she strive her set hard face to clear

And he answered not with any smile
Unto her softening eyes— yet when he went
About his labour now would so beguile
His heart with thought of her that right content
He gan to feel with what the Gods had sent
The little flame of love his heart that warmed
Hard things and ill to part of pleasure charmed

Withal his worldly things went not so ill
As for a luckless man the bounteous year
More than before his barn and vats did fill
With the earths fruit and bettered was his cheer
So that he watched the winter draw anear
Calmly this tide & deemed he yet might live
Some joy unto his daughters heart to give

But the one shoe that the erne had left
The goodwifes word was take the cursed thing
And when the gems from out it all are left
Into the fire the weavers rag go fling
Would in like wise the fond desires that cling
To Rhodope's proud heart we so might burn
That unto nought to do us good will turn

I think some poison with a double curse
Has smitten her, and double wilfulness
For surely now she groweth worse & worse
Since the bright rag her way worn feet did press—
Well then and surely thou wilt do no less
Than as I bid a many things we need
More than this waif of that most useless weed

With querulous voice she spake because she saw
Her husband look at Rhodope as she
With slender fingers did the grey thread draw
From out the rock and sitting quietly
Seemed heeding not what talking there might be
And for the goodmans self he answered not
Until at last the goodwife waxing hot

Laid word to word, and at the last began
To say alas and wherefore was I wed
To such an one as is a fore doomed man
Lo all this grief hast thou brought on my head
Wander about and dream as do the dead
When the shadowy land they first are brought
Surely thou knowest that we lack for nought

Then blind with rage from out the place she went
But still the goodman stood awhile and gazed
At Rhodope who sat as if intent
Upon her work nor once her fair head raised—
At last he spake well never was I praised
For wisdom overmuch before this day
And can I now be certain of the way?

[19 10]
True is it that our needs are many and sore
And that those gems would help us plenteously
Yet do I grudge now more than heretofore
The very last of that strange gift to see
What sayest thou how dost thou council me
O daughter didst thou ever hear folk tell
How strange a dream before thy birth fell

Blood red her face was as she looked at him
And with her foot the twirling spindle stayed
Yea said she something have I heard but dim
Its memory is and little have I weighed
The worth of it— The old man smiled and said
Nay child as little wise as I may be
Yet know I that thou liest certainly

So little need there is to tell the tale
Or ask thee more what thou wouldst have me do—
Have thou thy will for fate will still prevail
Though we may deem we lead her thereunto
Where lies our good— daughter keep thou the shoe
And let the wise men with their wisdom play
While we go dream about a happier day

While he spoken had she laid adown
The rock and risen to her feet and now
Upon her bosom lay his visage brown
As round his neck her fair arms did she throw
Softly she said somewhat thy need I know
Remember this what ever happeneth
Let it make sweet the space twixt this and death

Hard is the world— I loved ere I was born
This once alone perchance thy heart shall feel
And thou shalt go about of love forlorn
And little move my heart of stone and steel
Ah if another life our life might heal
And love became no more the sport of time
Chained upon either hand to paine and crime

A little time she hung about him thus
And then her arms from round his neck unwound
And went her ways— his mouth grew piteous
When he had lost her fluttering gowns light sound
And fast his tears gan fall upon the ground—
And last he turned so is now he said
With me as with a man soon to be dead

Wise is all at once and knows not why
And brave, who erst was timorous fair of speech
Whose tongue once stammered with uncertainty
Because his soul to the dark land doth reach
And is it so that my love to me doth teach
New things because he needs must get him gone
And leave me with his memories all alone

[20]
But the year past as has been writ afore
With better hopes— the pinching winter tide
Went past and spring his tender longings bore
Into all hearts and scattered troubles wide
Nor yet to see the fruit of them would bide
But left the burning summer next to deal
With hearts of men, and hope from them to steal.

But now before the June was gotten old
When to the [illegible] come to hear again
When close things happed whereof the tale first [illegible]
Was Rodope upon a spot of ground
That the brown seas sand on one side did bound
Shepherding sheep and sat within the shade
That a small clump of wind worn beeches made

Morn was it when she sat her down therein
And turning round beheld across the sea
Betwixt the lower beech boughs scant and thin
A speck that seemed some distant argossy
But little did she note what it might be
But ere the sun was high walked here and there
About the down the long-foot larks to hear

But when the sun right high began to flame
And drank up all the coolness
Within the little holbores back she came
Unto the beech ring and thought there to bide
Till noon was past, so lying on her side
Turned landward now she played in aimless wise
With the blue speedwell underneath her eye

Amid strange thoughts she was, but as she lay
Thinking of this & that all suddenly
Did she bethink her of that last years day
When that strange hap befel, and therewith she
Sprang up and turned about unto the sea
And in the bosom of her gown of grey
Felt for the shoe she yet knew was away

But far away across the sea she saw
The bright sun shine upon a swelling sail
That certes nigher to the land gan draw
She stared thereon till gan her eyes to fail
Thinking the while I know not of what tale
And then at last she turned away her face
And toward the homestead went at a slow pace

Nor looked to right or left but ever gazed
Upon the ground and quicker gan to go
Then lightly with one hand her gown skirts raised
And ran as one who hath a thing to do
needs must be done [illegible] little space thereto,
And so in short space reached the homestead door
Nor made delay but oer the cool dark floor

Went swiftly till her sleeping place she gained
And there she knelt before a letter chest
And raised its lid with bright pernilion stained
And drew from out its hidden place of rest
The pirates gift, and set it in her breast

[21 11]
And then went back as swiftly as she came
Nor answered though a maid called out her name

None else she saw and through her wooly sheep
Panting she past and cast her eyes down
As slowly now her feet toiled up the steep
The ring of beech-trees with its shade did crown
But when at last her quivering limbs were thrown
Down in the grey shade, panting she turned at last
And oer the grey sea a quick glance she cast

There she beheld the ship now drawn so nigh
She saw upon the sail a sun of gold
And glittering points about the masthead high
And flashing oars and soon she might behold
A long red banner its light length unfold
And [illegible] a crown the wind, and that thereon
A [illegible] moon was wrought a golden sun

And now at last when it was fully noon
And she at last the shipen and shouts might hear
She saw the great sails flap and therewith soon
Could note the calile through the hawse hole tear
As down the anchor ran, and with some gear
The shipman busy; then with sail and oar
A barge the big ship left and made for shore

Straight toward the downs top did they make she stood
And watched them, till the headland hid them quite
And many a thought was strung in her blood
And now she flushed and now she turned all while
And at the last with something like a fright
She started when she saw their company
at the downs foot come up and from the sea

Never she deemed had she yet seen so much
Of gold or bright things as the sun showed then;
First went she thought a band of armed men such
As she had not seen yet then gold clad men
White bearded as she declined, and then again
Folk clad in steel, and one of them did bear
A banner with the same device wrought clean

That still from the great ship mast floated out
Then came a hand of men that burdens borne
She knew not what; and now as if in doubt
They stayed and looked and up and down the shore
She gazed, and as they searched the grey down oer
Set eyes oer her belike, and thereon one
I owned where she stood came glittering in the sun

Small fear she had of whom these folk might be
For little war that simple people knew
And these mere few, and she withal could see
How now her own folk from the village drew
And so the messenger she went unto
With steady face yet in her heart she thought
That some strange thing those men had thither brought.

So when they met in the Greek tongue he said
Damsel come thou unto our company
And see our lords and be thou not afraid
For kindly are they een as they are high

[22]
And they would know what town they come anigh
And on a certain message are they sent
Here as elsewhere to tell the Kings intent

She smiled and said to him not overmuch
We know these names ye tell of King or lord
Nor may my heart have fear of any such
Yea I will go, and with that latest word
Lightly she stepped on by his raleting sword
And as she turned upon that folk to gaze
She saw them speedily a rich [illegible] raise

When the sun burnt drow but when she came
Before the lords, who waited there till all
Was done thereal and told about the name
Their country had so grand she was and tall
With such a grace the words from him did fall
That the one elder to the other            that [illegible] eyed man as kane as though to say
From her red lips that man eyed and said Beholdest Thou
Below his breath is this an earthly may

And as they stood there talking one by one
Came up the lands [illegible] this man driving there
An ass Who bore ripe fruits all warm with sun
While that a wineskil on his back did bear
And this a jar of milk well knit they were
And some were gay attired yet did she seem
To be amidst them as from some strange dream.

Now was the fair but pitched and there beside
The staff stuck in the earth thereby
Nor longer in the sun would these abide
But sat inside and round them curiously
Clustered the folk, and she thrust up anigh
Elders twain lay the rough anxious press
Shone all the more amidst her loveliness

There stood troubled not nor thinking aught
One hand upon her bosom and her shoe
The others in her kirtles grey folds caught
She waited what they yet might chance to do
Then spoke an elder be it known to you
Good people that in no haphazard wise
We come here, neither have we merchandize

That we should chaffer with you the great king
Has sent us forth to many lauds and great
To see if any of a certain thing
Can give true tidings, and some turn of fate
In this your simple land may us await
So here we come at last—how say ye then
ere will hide among you countrymen

While is shewn to all the dwellers here
Either set forth within your maket-place
[illegible] some temple that ye hold so dear
That all folk go thereto—to get them grace
Of the great gods—a smile was on his face
of mockery as he laid his hand upon
a casket wrought oer with a golden sun

[23 12]
He raised the lid and now must Rhodpe
Turn pale at last for in his wrinkled hand
The yellow of the fair thing did she see
That lay upon the wonder of the land
Her fragrant breast, but half unwittingly
She drew her hand forth, and een like a dream
To those seafarers all things grew to seem

Silence there was a while then did out break
A great cry from them, and all eyes grew bright
And faces joyous for her beautys sake
But as a man who needs must do aright
The elder said fair maid a wondrous sight
[illegible] showest us how comest thou by this
Thine hand hast how the other didst thou miss—

Somewhat askance she looked to see if there
Her father was and saw him not and then
Told the whole tale as it happed to her
Then spake the second of these gold clad men—
Good hap and to thee great gods many a ten
Of perfect beasts here let us sacrifice
That they have dealt with us in such an wise.

And worthy art thoy all good things to gain
Now nigh a year it is since our great king
Within did sacrifice— upon this sacred plain
But as we priests stood round the holy thing
A great erme circlady with wide roving
Above our heads, who at the last made stay
Above the cellar where the victim lay

Strange all men deemed that omen and kept peace
And yet awhile the eagle hovered there
And in a while our wonder did increase
For with a cry he dropped this sandal fair
Then turned and flew off northward through the air
Een as a messenger his message done
Freely and well, then wondered every one

Then spake the King who young is and unwed
Unto the priests apart, and that day he
Gave out that none but her should share his bed
Those feet had pressed that sandal daintily
And forth we went thereon through many a sea
And heard no news thereof—till this same day
Nor seen in all the lands so fair a May

All hail to them when we saw thee first
Jutting rough raiment sure to all men here
Then seemed it were to be a Goddess cursed
Bu some hard fate, than one who death may fear
Yea such thou mayst be yet, unmoved and dear
Thy face is midst the tidings that we tell
As though thou holdst the keys of Heaven and hell—

What wilt thou then command us that and stay
And with thy country-people hold high feast
For certain days or go on this same day
For all are thine thou seest here most for least
Before the burning of the sun hath ceased
And cerles thou art worthier of thus
Than any maid that on the earth there is

[24]
A proud light lit her face as now she said
Strange things to me o great lords do ye say
Who in this land am but a labouring maid
Yet if ye mock me not I will not stay
Long in this land but rather go today
For kind this people is and true of heart
Rather with you is meeted out my part

Yet are there two things here I may not leave
My father and my mother, bide ye here
And they from me these tidings shall receive
For sight of you perchance might give them fear
Moreover if your ship holds aught of dear
Or things far fetched, give gifts unto your might
Unto the folk that something of delight

May hang round my departing. then she turned
And her own folk now hasted to give place
For in her eyes so great a glory burned
And in her limbs was set now such a grace
That fear fell on them—then she set her face
Unto the homestead and there found her sire
Draining the red milch kine unto the byre

He turned and stared upon her glittering eyes
And queenlike mien, and gan to speak but she
Cried out the Gods at last may call us wise
For great days have they given to thee and me
Things stranger than these green meads shall we see
And then shalt wonder that thou ere didst keep
These kine as Phœbus erst Apollo’s sheep

Then did she pour the whole tale out on him
Eager at first, but faltered to behold
How he fell trembling in his every limb
And midst her triumph did her heart were cold
And her brow knitted neath her hair of gold—
Alas she said when all the tale was done
Why go we thus alone beneath the sun

He noted her changed face and said at last
[illegible] alas my dream then cometh true
And if thou wilt not that the past be past
Then even now they bidding will I do
And yet bethink thee where thou comest to
And that they life beginneth now, but I
Am old and unchanged & still shall sit anigh

Amidst thy glory as a thing just saved
From the old life that thou hast cast away
Her brow grew smooth, and her fair head she waved
As one who biddeth silence—on this day
She said do we begin this new made play
And fortune makes amends give farewell then
To these abodes of poor unchanging men

He lingered yet and with a yearning glance
At her flushed face he said— daughter we twain
Have talked of this thing oft and now perchance
Thou jestest with me— then she said again

[25 13]
Laughing O father thou hast prayed in vain
For change of fate, it comes thou knowest not
If thou a pleasure or a pain hast got

Well then must thou for I know be merry
and nought ill it is
The merry world that lies before us now
Time was indeed when scarce I thought of bliss
And cried against all things that life could show
Like one grown old but now beethinks I grow
Wise in the midst of fools and happier
That I shall see great joy great woe anear

Her eyes flashed as she spoke langour was gone
From her lithe limbs a little while he stood
And gazed on her as one some glorious gone
New fallen from Heaven then muttered ah how good
To take all present joy in no vain mood
Of longling for the days that will not be
Or come to pass and bring but misery

Then to the house he turned and she left there
Wandered in restless wise from place to place
And midst her joy the shadow of a care
Was on her heart, and made her bright flushed face
Hard yet amid its beauty and its grace
She had not thought a little while ago
That such a change would work within her so

And well nigh did her heart her joy despise
That yet was joy indeed and a hard smile
She smiled to think that she the cold and wise
No more could think the worlds life cursed and vile
Now for time did her heart with toys beguile
That she no more might think of death or woe
But as vain words where meaning none might know

And now mid this from out the house there came
Her father and her mother, and she gazed
Upon the twain with something like to shame
As she beheld how timid eyes & mazed
The goodwife to her haughty brow now raised
And how with patient mien her father went
On all her motions lovingly intent.

But to the strangers but passed on three
And though her of grey gown only covered her,
Her mother bore some shreds of bravery
And clad her father was in scarlet gear
Worn now and wretched, that he once did bear
When long ago at his rich board he sat
And all that lands best cheer the glad guests gat

So through the wondering groups of folk they passed
And on them still she turned with smiling face
Noting them not till a lowed trumpet blast
As they drew near the lords abiding place
Where a gold chamberlain with golden mae
Marshalled the folk, and then in queenly voice

[26]
spake and said—
Masters behold soon are my matters sped

Good seems to me that we should go straightaway
For if a dream this then would I feel
Een in my dream the dashing of the spray
Before I wake and hear the rolling oars
And ere the might fall see the lessening shores
From the dreamed dromonds deck— so pass me on
If even so far as this my dream hath won

Then said they all is ready in due wise
Een as thou biddest warped the ship hae been
Unto the rade piershead and sacrifice
Hath there been done and good gifts-given have been
To this lands folk— but as befits a queen
Wilt thou not be attired; that we
May show thy beauty meetly to the sea

Nay said she rather in this [illegible]
Let your King first behold me standing there
that his heart may more incline
Towards me if he note me strange and fair
Grown up a queen with no peoples care
For whats should be— so make no delay
The sun looks low upon the watery way

So did they as she bade and left their tent
A gift unto the gods by her command
Then from the shore sea of the down they went
A southern wind blew from the fertile land
And with its scents so many a memory brought
That her face softened neath the touch of thought

In her slim hand her fathers hand she took
her red lips trembled and her were wet
With tears that fell not— but the old man shook
As one who sees death drear— withat she set
A had upon him and said Long years yet
Thy loving eyes these eyes shalt thou behold
Among the glimmer of fair things & gold

But nought he answered and they came full soon
To the wide ganway lay from out the ship
On the rough pier, white-yet was the moon
And the suns rim nigh in the sea did dip
And thence from the sky touched the seas lip
Ran a great road of gold across the sea
Where played the unquiet waves impatiently—

Now was her foot upon the gangway plank
Now oer the green depths and the oars bloodred
Fluttered her gown, and from the low green bank
above the sand a cry came as her head

[27 14]
Shone golden in the rays round it shed
And on the deck her feet were then past oer
Her mother belt she look not back more

But with one hand held back as if to take
Her fathers hand she went unto the prow
And there she stood and watched the billows break
And noted not when men the ropes did throw
And scarce knew when the beak began to plow
The unfruitful plain nor turned till cold & grey
And darkling fast the waste before her lay

And then she turned aside & thought to see
The old folk by her, and beheld indeed
Her mother silent mid the bravery
Of gold clad folk, sad as though in need
Of one that she durst speak to— good folk lead
May falter here she said for I would gaze
With him upon the home of other days

Then one looked on the other till a lord
Stood forth and spake; lady and queen
it was the wise old man thy fathers word
That he in many a word with thee had been
And that he fain was of of his meadows green
And trim white homestead nor would try the sea
And this we deemed had well seemed good to thee

For in fair words he spake but give command
And swiftly will we get us back again
And in some [illegible] or twain wilt reach the land
Although the landwind freshens. a great pain
shot through her heart the bright moon seemed to wane
Before her eyes somewhat she raised
And her mouth opened while her mother mazed

Forgot to weep— then spake she— so be it
Een as it is why should I strive with change
That heedeth not the Gods will a [illegible] whit
And in no otherwise might all be strange.
Therewith she turned. And with unseeing eyes hard eyes did gauge
Wide oer the tumbling waste of waters grey
As swift the black ship went upon her way