ram.

Nay, we brought him a-board the Great Dragon one dawning, When the cold bay was flecked with the crests of white billows And the clouds lay alow on the earth and the sea; He looked not aloft as they hoisted the sail, But with hand on the tiller hallooed to the shipmen In a voice grown so strange, that it scarce had seemed stranger If from the ship Argo, in seemly wise woven On the guard-chamber hangings, some early grey dawning Great Jason had cried, and his golden locks wavered. Then e'en as the oars ran outboard, and dashed In the wind-scattered foam and the sails bellied out, His hand dropped from the tiller, and with feet all uncertain And dull eye he wended him down to the midship, And gazing about for the place of the gangway Made for the gate of the bulwark half open, And stood there and stared at the swallowing sea, Then turned, and uncertain went wandering back sternward, And sat down on the deck by the side of the helmsman, Wrapt in dreams of despair; so I bade them turn shoreward, And slowly he rose as the side grated stoutly     'Gainst the stones of the quay and they cast forth the hawser.—     Unkingly, unhappy, he went his ways homeward.

But by other ways yet had thy wisdom to travel; How else did ye work for the winning him peace?

We bade gather the knights for the goodliest tilting, There the ladies went lightly in glorious array; In the old arms we armed him whose dints well he knew That the night dew had dulled and the sea salt had sullied:     On the old roan yet sturdy we set him astride; So he stretched forth his hand to lay hold of the spear Neither laughing nor frowning, as lightly his wont was When the knights are awaiting the voice of the trumpet. It awoke, and back beaten from barrier to barrier Was caught up by knights' cries, by the cry of the king.—     —Such a cry as red Mars in the Council-room window May awake with some noon when the last horn is winded, And the bones of the world are dashed grinding together. So it seemed to my heart, and a horror came o'er me, As the spears met, and splinters flew high o'er the field, And I saw the king stay when his course was at swiftest, His horse straining hard on the bit, and he standing Stiff and stark in his stirrups, his spear held by the midmost, His helm cast a-back, his teeth set hard together; E'en as one might, who, riding to heaven, feels round him The devils unseen: then he raised up the spear As to cast it away, but therewith failed his fury,      

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