The Story of Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs

Boston : [s.n.]
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Publisher
Boston : [s.n.]
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Published on
Dec 31, 1891
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Pages
345
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Language
English
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This content is DRM free.
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Book 23
More famous now for being a pioneer textile designer, William Morris was also a celebrated poet, novelist, translator and socialist activist, whose literary contributions helped establish the modern fantasy genre. For the first time in publishing history, this comprehensive eBook presents Morris’ complete fictional works, with numerous illustrations, rare texts, informative introductions and the usual Delphi bonus material. (Version 1)

* Beautifully illustrated with images relating to Morris’ life and works
* Concise introductions to the novels and other texts
* ALL 11 novels, with individual contents tables
* Many rare texts appearing in digital print for the first time
* Images of how the books were first published, giving your eReader a taste of the original texts
* Excellent formatting of the texts
* Famous works are fully illustrated with their original artwork
* Special chronological and alphabetical contents tables for the poetry and the short stories
* Easily locate the poems or short stories you want to read
* Includes Morris’ translations and a selection of non-fiction - spend hours exploring the author’s varied works
* Features Mackail’s seminal biography - discover Morris’ literary and artistic life
* Scholarly ordering of texts into chronological order and literary genres

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CONTENTS:

The Novels
A DREAM OF JOHN BALL
THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS
THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS
NEWS FROM NOWHERE
THE STORY OF THE GLITTERING PLAIN
THE WOOD BEYOND THE WORLD
CHILD CHRISTOPHER AND GOLDILIND THE FAIR
THE WELL AT THE WORLD’S END
THE WATER OF THE WONDROUS ISLES
THE SUNDERING FLOOD
THE NOVEL ON BLUE PAPER

The Shorter Fiction
INTRODUCTION TO THE FANTASY SHORT STORIES OF MORRIS
THE HOLLOW LAND
A KING’S LESSON
GOLDEN WINGS AND OTHER STORIES
THE FOLK OF THE MOUNTAIN DOOR

The Short Stories
LIST OF SHORT STORIES IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
LIST OF SHORT STORIES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER

The Plays
THE TABLES TURNED; OR, NUPKINS AWAKENED

The Poetry Collections
THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE, AND OTHER POEMS
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON
THE EARTHLY PARADISE
LOVE IS ENOUGH
THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG AND THE FALL OF THE NIBLUNGS
THE PILGRIMS OF HOPE
CHANTS FOR SOCIALISTS
ALFRED LINNELL, KILLED IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE. A DEATH SONG
POEMS BY THE WAY
UNPUBLISHED POEMS AND FRAGMENTS

The Poems
LIST OF POEMS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
LIST OF POEMS IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER

The Translations
GRETTIS SAGA
THE SAGA OF GUNNLAUG THE WORM-TONGUE AND RAFN THE SKALD
VÖLSUNG SAGA
THREE NORTHERN LOVE STORIES, AND OTHER TALES
THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER DONE INTO ENGLISH VERSE
THE AENEIDS OF VIRGIL DONE INTO ENGLISH
THE TALE OF BEOWULF DONE OUT OF THE OLD ENGLISH TONGUE
THE ORDINATION OF KNIGHTHOOD
OLD FRENCH ROMANCES DONE INTO ENGLISH

The Non-Fiction
SIGNS OF CHANGE
PREFACE TO ‘ARTS AND CRAFTS ESSAYS BY MEMBERS OF THE ARTS AND CRAFTS EXHIBITION SOCIETY’
HOPES AND FEARS FOR ART
PREFACE TO ‘MEDIAEVAL LORE FROM BARTHOLOMEW ANGLICUS’
THE ART AND CRAFT OF PRINTING

Designs
MORRIS & CO. TEXTILE DESIGNS
MORRIS & CO. STAINED GLASS DESIGNS
OIL PAINTING

The Biography
THE LIFE OF WILLIAM MORRIS by John William Mackail

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William Morris
A DREAM OF JOHN BALL

CHAPTER I

THE MEN OF KENT

Sometimes I am rewarded for fretting myself so much about present

matters by a quite unasked-for pleasant dream. I mean when I am

asleep. This dream is as it were a present of an architectural

peep-show. I see some beautiful and noble building new made, as

it were for the occasion, as clearly as if I were awake; not

vaguely or absurdly, as often happens in dreams, but with all the

detail clear and reasonable. Some Elizabethan house with its

scrap of earlier fourteenth-century building, and its later

degradations of Queen Anne and Silly Billy and Victoria,

marring but not destroying it, in an old village once a clearing

amid the sandy woodlands of Sussex. Or an old and unusually

curious church, much churchwardened, and beside it a fragment of

fifteenth-century domestic architecture amongst the not

unpicturesque lath and plaster of an Essex farm, and looking

natural enough among the sleepy elms and the meditative hens

scratching about in the litter of the farmyard, whose trodden

yellow straw comes up to the very jambs of the richly carved

Norman doorway of the church. Or sometimes 'tis a splendid

collegiate church, untouched by restoring parson and architect,

standing amid an island of shapely trees and flower-beset

cottages of thatched grey stone and cob, amidst the narrow

stretch of bright green water-meadows that wind between the

sweeping Wiltshire downs, so well beloved of William Cobbett. Or

some new-seen and yet familiar cluster of houses in a grey

village of the upper Thames overtopped by the delicate tracery

of a fourteenth-century church; or even sometimes the very

buildings of the past untouched by the degradation of the sordid

utilitarianism that cares not and knows not of beauty and

history: as once, when I was journeying (in a dream of the night)

down the well-remembered reaches of the Thames betwixt Streatley

and Wallingford, where the foothills of the White Horse fall back

from the broad stream, I came upon a clear-seen mediaeval town

standing up with roof and tower and spire within its walls, grey

and ancient, but untouched from the days of its builders of old.

All this I have seen in the dreams of the night clearer than I

can force myself to see them in dreams of the day. So that it

would have been nothing new to me the other night to fall into an

architectural dream if that were all, and yet I have to tell of

things strange and new that befell me after I had fallen asleep.

I had begun my sojourn in the Land of Nod by a very confused

attempt to conclude that it was all right for me to have an

engagement to lecture at Manchester and Mitcham Fair Green at

half-past eleven at night on one and the same Sunday, and that I

could manage pretty well. And then I had gone on to try to make

the best of addressing a large open-air audience in the costume I

was really then wearing--to wit, my night-shirt, reinforced for

the dream occasion by a pair of braceless trousers. The

consciousness of this fact so bothered me, that the earnest faces

of my audience--who would NOT notice it, but were clearly

preparing terrible anti-Socialist posers for me--began to fade

away and my dream grew thin, and I awoke (as I thought) to find

myself lying on a strip of wayside waste by an oak copse just

outside a country village.

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