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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Well at the World's End: a tale"


"But the woman drew a strong sharp knife from her girdle
and cut the beast's throat, and dipped her fingers in the blood
and reddened both herself and me on the breast, and the hands,
and the feet; and then she turned to the altar and smote
blood upon the uprights, and the face of the stone plank.
Then she bade me help her, and we laid the seven faggots
on the alter, and laid the carcase of the goat upon them:
and she made fire, but I saw not how, and set it to the wood,
and when it began to blaze she stood before it with her
arms outspread, and sang loud and hoarse to a strange tune;
and though I knew not the words of her song, it filled me
with dread, so that I cast myself down on the ground and hid
my face in the grass.
"So she went on till the beast was all burned up and the fire
became naught but red embers, and then she ceased her song and sank
down upon the grass, and laid her head back and so fell asleep;
but I durst not move from the place, but cowered in the grass there,
I know not how long, till she arose and came to me, and smote me
with her foot and cried: 'Rise up, fool! what harm hast thou?
Go milk thy goats and lead them to pasture.' And therewith she
strode away home, not heeding me.
"As for me, I arose and dealt with my goats as she bade me;
and presently I was glad that I had not been slain, yet thenceforth
was the joy of my life that I had had amongst my goats marred
with fear, and the sounds of the woodland came to me mingled
with terror; and I was sore afraid when I entered the house
in the morning and the evening, and when I looked on the face
of the woman; though she was no harder to me than heretofore,
but maybe somewhat softer.


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