Author: William Morris

Cited by

• Christopher Fowler (1)
  • IN: Darkest Day (1993) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: Not one, nor thousands must they slay, But one and all if they would dusk the day.
    FROM: Death song for Alfred Linnell, (1887), Poem, UK
• Margaret Atwood (1)
  • IN: Alias Grace (1996) Fiction, NULL
    EPIGRAPH: Whatever may have happened through these years, God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.
    FROM: The Defence of Guenevere, (1858), Poem, UK
• De La Cruz, Melissa / Johnston, Michael (1)
  • IN: Olden (2016) Fiction, Young Adult Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: He laughed and smote with the laughter and thrust up over his head, And smote the venom asunder, and clave the heart of Dread; Then he leapt from the pit and the grave, and the rushing river of blood, And fulfilled with the joy of the War-God on the face of earth be stood With red sword high uplifted, with wrathful glittering eyes; And he laughed at the heavens above him for he saw the sun arise, And Sigurd gleamed on the desert, and shone in the new-born light, And the wind in his raincoat wavered, and all the world was bright. But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay On the huddled folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked each on each, And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech: "Child, child, who art thou that hast smitten? bright child, of whence is thy birth?" "I am called the Wild-thing Glorious, and alone I wend on the earth."
    FROM: The Story of Sigurd the Volsung, (1876), Poem, UK
• Melissa de la / Johnston, Michael Cruz (1)
  • IN: Golden (2016) Fantasy, Young Adult Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: He laughed and smote with the laughter and thrust up over his head, / And smoe the venom asunder, and clave the heart of Dread; / Then he leapt from the pit and the grave, and the rushing river of blood, / And fulfilled with the joy of the War-God on the face of earth he stood / With red sword high uplifted, with wrathful glittering eyes; / And he laughed at the heavens above him for he saw the sun arise, / And Sigurd gleamed on the desert, and shone in the new-born light, / And the wind in his raiment wavered, and all the world was bright. / But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay / On the huddled Folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey / In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked each on each, / And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech: / "Child, child, who art thou that has smitten? bright child, of whence is thy birth?" / "I am called the Wild-thing Glorious, and alone I wend on the earth."
    FROM: The Story of Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs, (1876), Epic poem, UK
• Jorgen Brekke (1)
  • IN: Where Monsters Dwell (2014) Fiction, NULL
    EPIGRAPH: For thou shalt have full many a chance to roam Seeking for something that all men love well Not for an unknown Isle where monsters dwell
    FROM: The Doom of King Acrisius, (1902), Poem, UK
• Deborah Lawrenson (1)
  • IN: The Sea Garden (2014) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: There comes a murmur from the shore, And in the place two fair streams are, Drawn from the purple hills afar, Drawn down unto the restless sea. The hills whose flowers ne'er fed the bee, The shore no ship has ever seen, Still beaten by the billows green, Whose murmur comes unceasingly Unto the place for which I cry.
    FROM: A Garden by the Sea, (1891), Poem, UK
• Ian Sansom (1)
  • IN: Essex Poison (2017) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: I come not from Heaven but from Essex.
    FROM: A Dream of John Ball, (1888), Novel, UK
• Sean Pidgeon (2)
  • IN: Finding Camlann (2013) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: While I was dizzied this, old thoughts would crowd, Belonging to the time ere I was brought By Arthur’s great name and his little love; Must I give up for ever then, I thought, That which I deemed would ever round me move Glorifying all things; for a little word, Scarce ever meant at all, must I now prove Stone-cold for ever?
    FROM: The Defence of Guenevere, (1858), Book, UK