DRYDEN'S 
 PALAMON 
 
 AND 
 
 ARCITE 
 
 GEORGB M- ^iARSHALIy 
 
 I 
 
 1) APPLETONa^COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Shelf.^A-i.H ^ 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
TWENTIETH CENTURY TEXT-BOOKS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 A. F. NIGHTINGALE, Ph. D. 
 
 SUPERINTENDENT OF HIGH SCHOOLS, CHICAGO 
 AND 
 
 CHARLES H. THURBER, A. M. 
 
 ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF PEDAGOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY 
 OK CHICAGO 
 
JOHN DRYDEN 
 
TWENTIETH CENTURY TEXT-BOOKS 
 
 DRYDEN'S 
 
 Palamon and Arcite 
 
 EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE M. MARSHALL, Ph. B. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE 
 IN THE UNIVERSITY OF UTAH 
 
 33 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1900 
 
TV/O COPIES RECeiVEi 
 
 he^-istdr of Cop^rfi^hiSc 
 
 5674^ 
 
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 Copyright, 1900 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 SECOND C»PY| 
 
 V 
 
PREFACE 
 
 No better poem than Dryden's Palamon and Arcite 
 could be selected to illustrate the milder peculiarities of 
 the English classical school of poetry as it existed before 
 Pope. Of all of Dryden's longer poems, it is best worth 
 knowing. The introduction to the present edition contains 
 only enough material to indicate lines along which a stu- 
 dent may investigate for himself; the work of criticism is 
 not done for him. Elaborate study of the succession of lit- 
 erary periods is usually provided for in special courses. 
 The discussion of the period of Dryden is therefore as brief 
 as is consistent with giving an idea of the place of Palamon 
 and Arcite in the development of English literature. Clas- 
 sical dictionaries are found in every high-school library, 
 and more extended information on the nfythological allu- 
 sions than is found in the notes may be obtained there- 
 from. As every student has an ordinary dictionary, few 
 words are defined in the notes unless they are familiar 
 words with uncommon meanings likely to be overlooked. 
 
 The text is that of Christie's edition of Dryden's poems, 
 published by the Macmillan Company. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Introduction : page 
 The beginning of the classical school of English 
 
 literature . . 1 
 
 Life and work of Dryden 7 
 
 Palamon and Arcite 15 
 
 Suggestions 19 
 
 Readings 22 
 
 Bibliography 24 
 
 Dedication to her Grace the Duchess of Ormond . . 27 
 
 Text of Palamon and Arcite 33 
 
 Notes 105 
 
 vii 
 
PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 mTRODUCTION 
 
 The Beginning of the Classical School of English 
 
 LiTERATUKE 
 
 Taste in literary matters varies from age to age; and 
 just as there are fashions in dress, so there are fashions, 
 or schools, in literature. To investigate the characteristics 
 of the writings of the different epochs and to trace the 
 successive changes is part of the province of the literary 
 student. Such investigation is necessary to the full un- 
 derstanding of the work of a typical author. Especially 
 is this true in the case of Dryden. Some knowledge of 
 the trend of literary taste during the seventeenth century 
 is indispensable to a clear comprehension of his work. 
 
 The classical school of English literature, of which he 
 is an eminent representative, took its beginning about the 
 time of the restoration of monarchy in 1660, and held 
 sway for quite a century. The transition from the degen- 
 erated romantic school which preceded it was abrupt and 
 complete. 
 
 The Elizabethan Age of literature extended, in a gen- 
 eral way, from 1550 to 1625. Its spirit was pre-eminently 
 creative; the geniuses felt and wrote. Poets of the most 
 brilliant imaginations and powers to portray played upon 
 the whole gamut of the natural emotions, and gave en- 
 thusiastic expression to their fervid fancies. They loved 
 
 1 
 
2 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 the flowers and birds and groves, and took delight in all 
 forms of beauty, and were moved by sympathy with all 
 that can touch the liuman heart or alfect the human soul. 
 A somewhat prevalent blemish was a tendency to fantastic 
 extravagance. As the greater glories dimmed toward the 
 end of the period, this extravagance increased to such an 
 extent that it formed a chief distinguishing feature of a 
 new school — the Marinist, or, as Dr. Johnson called it, 
 the metaphysical — whose writers, under the influence of 
 the Italian Marini and his followers, exercised their skill 
 in devising ingenious comparisons, odd conceits, and 
 strange whimsicalities. 
 
 These lyrical ingenuities, many of them quaint and 
 beautiful, continued on into the succeeding period, which 
 began about 1625 and extended to 1660. The political 
 and religious turmoils of the troubled reign of Charles I 
 and the sternness of the Puritan Commonwealth, with its 
 vigorous restraints, were not favorable to the cultivation 
 of letters, and the thirty-five years preceding the Eesto- 
 ration were comparatively barren of literary production, 
 save for the great mass of ponderous controversial prose. 
 Milton, of course, was the greatest figure in the literary 
 world of the time, but the brilliant work of his younger 
 days belongs really to the Elizabethan age, while his great 
 epics were not written until after the Restoration. The 
 Commonwealth was nominally a republic, but, with its 
 iron rule, it gradually became a virtual despotism, sup- 
 ported by a comparatively small army. Its grim and irri- 
 tating severities had alienated the sympathies of the Eng- 
 lish people, except the most fanatical Puritans, and could 
 not be maintained after the death of Cromwell. Accord- 
 ingly, in 1660 the monarchy was restored, and Charles II 
 returned to England from the Continent and began his 
 disgraceful reign. 
 
INTRODUCTION 3 
 
 The poetry of the English classical school, which began 
 its development immediately after the Eestoration, is a 
 remarkable confirmation of that commonplace of literary 
 criticism: that the literature of an age reflects the life 
 and thought of the time in which it was produced. Under 
 the reign of Charles II there was a violent reaction from 
 all the elements of repression that had characterized life 
 under the Commonwealth. The king paid little attention 
 to affairs of state, and gave himself up to a life of immo- 
 rality and vice. He filled his court with congenial com- 
 panions, both English and French, as debauched as him- 
 self. The aristocratic classes in great measure imitated 
 the court, and roistering, gambling, drunkenness, and li- 
 centiousness were rife. The government was left largely 
 to scheming politicians, and political corruption of all 
 forms was unrestrained. The Episcopal Church w^as re- 
 established, dissenting organizations were vigorously sup- 
 pressed, and many of their leaders cruelly punished. Pub- 
 lic amusements, not only again permitted but encouraged, 
 were too often attended with disorders and degenerated 
 into license. Theaters, again opened, were thronged with 
 crow^ds who could be delighted only with audacious wit or 
 shameless indecencies. Such, partially, were the condi- 
 tions that found reflection in poetry during the reign of 
 the " Merry Monarch." Yet it must not be supposed that 
 no decency remained among the English people. The 
 great middle classes, the bone and brawn and sinew of the 
 nation, were scarcely affected by the foulness that stained 
 the higher circles. But literature did not reflect their 
 sturdy virtues. Milton, it is true, was engaged upon the 
 great epic that was to give him a place second only to 
 that of Shakespeare; but he was blind and in obscure re- 
 tirement, and was in no sense a part of the age in which 
 he was living. Few became acquainted with his match- 
 
4 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 less work, and still fewer appreciated it. Bunyan, too, 
 in the Bedford jail, was making his name immortal; but 
 the great world of letters all about him knew nothing of 
 him nor he of it. 
 
 The important features of the classical school of Eng- 
 lish literature were more or less directly the result of the 
 influence of contemporary French literature. During the 
 Puritan supremacy in England thousands of Cavaliers took 
 refuge in France, where they acquired familiarity with 
 ever3'thing French — morals, manners, arts, and literature. 
 French literature was then under the dominion of the 
 principles of French classicism as first taught by Malherbe 
 at the beginning of the century, and as followed by nearly 
 all French poets of the time, including the great drama- 
 tists Corneille, Eacine, and Moliere. These principles 
 had been further perfected and still more strongly enforced 
 by Boileau, who occupied the same position of literary 
 dictator among the French as did Dryden and, later. Pope 
 among the English. Previous to Malherbe, French lit- 
 erature, like the English, drew much of its inspiration 
 from Italy. But the relative importance of the Italian 
 states had declined, and the importance of France, suc- 
 cessively under Eichelieu, Mazarin, and Louis XIV, was 
 becoming supreme in Europe. The influence over letters 
 likewise shifted to France. 
 
 The chief characteristic of French classicism was the 
 importance attached to literary form, rather than to the 
 thought or the spirit. The Latin classics were studied 
 with renewed interest, and it was the effort of poets to 
 model their style upon ancient poetry, with its exact- 
 ness, polish, and neatness. Their work abounded in clas- 
 sical allusions and conventional classical figures. Crea- 
 tive power was dying, and literature became critical. 
 Heretofore, only the individual preferences of a writer 
 
INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 had determined the form of his verse and the nature of 
 his expressions. Now, to obtain the most harmonious 
 combinations formal rules must govern the use of meters 
 and the choice and arrangement of words. Boileau's Art 
 of Poetry, an English translation of which was edited by 
 Dryden, was perhaps the most widely read work on criti- 
 cism embodying these tenets that appeared in the cen- 
 tury. 
 
 French ascendency in literature, so undisputed on the 
 Continent, was powerfully felt even in England. Here 
 the movement toward conformity to the dictums of classi- 
 cism was greatly hastened and intensified by the influence 
 of Charles and his Cavalier courtiers, Avho, while in exile, 
 had learned to admire the wit and polish of French poetry. 
 The essential principles dominating the French school were 
 soon pretty firmly established in England; yet, with some 
 variations, inevitable in view of the differences of racial 
 temperament and ideas that preserved the national char- 
 acter of the literature. 
 
 Among the most conspicuous features of the poetry 
 of the English classical school that serve to distinguish 
 it from the poetry of the Elizabethan age were the pecul- 
 iarities of versification and of subject-matter. Nearly all 
 of the verse was iambic pentameter, varied by occasional 
 Alexandrines, rhymed in couplets. Each line contained 
 a CEesura at which there was a pause in sense. A pause 
 in sense usually occurred also at the end of each line. 
 Words were selected and arranged with extreme nicety 
 to secure the greatest possible smoothness; words were bal- 
 anced with words, clauses with clauses, and ideas with 
 ideas. The effect of all this, particularly as carried to 
 perfection by Pope in the next century, was monotonous. 
 
 The subjects at the present time considered worthiest 
 of poetic treatment — Nature and the passions common to 
 
6 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 all human kind — found little favor. In all the poetry of 
 the classical school there is scarcely a sympathetic or ap- 
 preciative description of a scene of natural beauty, and 
 most of the very few that are found are merely conven- 
 tional. There was little interest in out-of-door life, and 
 society refreshed itself with repartee and plays of wit 
 rather than with communings with Nature. Thought and 
 intellect rather than poetic fervor, head rather than heart, 
 found utterance. There were few poems indeed that had 
 interest for any one outside of political, high social, or 
 literary circles, or that would make the heart beat one 
 throb the faster or elevate the soul to higher conceptions 
 of nobility, of manhood, of duty, of God. Sycophantic 
 panegyrics, grossly flattering those whose good graces the 
 writer coveted; dainty compliments; satires keenly ridicul- 
 ing unpopular persons or institutions, or bitterly assailing 
 social, political, or professional rivals; cutting or indecent 
 wit for the amusement of corrupt society; quaint conceits 
 cast into the conventional verse molds; unspeakable 
 dramas; rhymed essays in political, literary, or religious 
 philosoph}' — prose masquerading as verse — these some- 
 times of power, often of beauty, relieved by occasional 
 flashes of true lyric spirit, constituted the bulk of the 
 poetry of the last half of the seventeenth century. 
 
 The change in the character of prose during the Ees- 
 toration was no less marked than the change in the nature 
 of poetry. Very little of the prose written before the 
 reign of Charles is now read, except by professional stu- 
 dents. With rare exceptions, it was cumbrous in dic- 
 tion, involved in phraseology, and illogical in construc- 
 tion. But the constant study of the classical verse writers 
 to attain correctness, elegance, and clearness had its effect 
 on prose, which now became simple, terse, logical, and 
 lucid. Without this clarification, prose could not have be- 
 
INTRODUCTION Y 
 
 come a proper vehicle for literature, and Defoe and Addi- 
 son would have been impossible. 
 
 Life and Wokk of Dkyden 
 
 John Dryden was born in Aldwincle, All Saints, North- 
 amptonshire, August 9, 1631. His immediate ancestors on 
 both his father's and his mother's side were Puritans. He 
 Avas prepared for college at the Westminster School, then 
 under Dr. Busby, one of the most noted schoolmasters of 
 the time. He entered Trinity College, Cambridge, in 
 1650, and received the degree of B. A. in 1654, but con- 
 tinued his studies at the university a year or so longer. 
 
 Even as a schoolboy he was deeply interested in poetry, 
 and was famous among his companions and tutors for his 
 verses. At the beginning of his career he was an ardent 
 admirer of the Marinists, and their influence is apparent 
 in some of the absurd conceits of his early work. His 
 first published poem, written while he was still at West- 
 minster, was a pompous and extravagantly overwrought 
 elegy on the death of Lord Hastings, a young schoolmate. 
 In 1657 he went to London to follow literature as a pro- 
 fession. For a time he lived in the family of a relative. 
 Sir Gilbert Pickering, a trusted councilor of Cromwell. 
 In 1663 he married Lady Elizabeth Howard, daughter of 
 the Earl of Berkshire, with whom, it has been said, though 
 without much authority, his life was not of the happiest. 
 
 His industry and the comparative excellence of his work 
 soon made him well known, and won him regard. The 
 reading public was then scarcely large enough to provide 
 a very generous support to an author by the sale of his 
 books, even though he was popular. It was common, 
 therefore, for writers who had no private fortunes to seek 
 or accept patronage. This patronage took various forms: 
 
8 PAIiAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 sometimes a man of wealth would support an author as a 
 member of his household, often nominally as a secretary 
 or as a tutor; sometimes a clever writer received money 
 or other gifts directly for special productions pleasing to 
 the patron; sometimes the writer received appointment to 
 a public office yielding good income. Government pat- 
 ronage was the most eagerly desired by literary aspirants 
 as being the most honorable and lucrative. Holders of 
 such sinecures were naturally expected to take some part 
 in politics. In his strife for advancement Dryden became 
 very much of a sycophant, and prostituted his powers to 
 delight those whose good favor would be to his advan- 
 tage. The greater part of his work during the first half 
 of his literary career, in choice of subject, in method of 
 treatment, and in moral tone, was planned, against his best 
 judgment it often seemed, to please those in power. 
 
 Dryden's first poem of note after he began his life in 
 London was Heroic Stanzas, in laudation of Cromwell, 
 written in 1658, just after the death of the Protector. In 
 spite of this mild evidence of Puritanism, on the Restora- 
 tion, in 16(;0, he wrote Astrwa Redux, the best of the many 
 poetical welcomes to Charles II. He turned his sympa- 
 thies toward the Eoyalists, and was identified Avith the 
 Tory party to the end of his life. Dryden ought not to be 
 rashly accused of political or religious timeserving, even 
 though he did become a Tory at a most opportune time, 
 and, though Puritan by birth and training, he became 
 Episcopalian, and then Roman Catholic at the accession 
 respectively of an Episcopalian and a Roman Catholic 
 king. The truth about his politics probably is that during 
 his younger days he had no serious convictions. It is to 
 be noted that in Heroic Stanzas Cromwell is honored for 
 qualities and deeds universally recognized as praiseworthy, 
 and that the Royalists are not assailed. His religious 
 
INTRODUCTION 9 
 
 opinions were probably not very well settled until about 
 1685. He wrote other panegyrics to Charles which did 
 not fail of their reward; and until the very last he com- 
 posed complimentary addresses, dedications, epistles, eulo- 
 gies, and elegies. These, judged by present tastes, are 
 filled with groveling adulation and grossest flattery; but 
 such were an approved fashion of the day, and too severe 
 condemnation of Dryden is scarcely to be justified. 
 
 In 1642 the Puritan Parliament had closed the thea- 
 ters as hotbeds of sin. After the Restoration the play- 
 houses were reopened, and the stage became one of the 
 most fashionable of amusements. The drama, however 
 brilliant may have been its wit and however successful it 
 was in portraying manners, was in the main frivolous or 
 obscene in theme, in action, and in allusion. For many 
 years the foulness increased until it became intolerable, 
 and a reformation took place. Dryden early saw the rap- 
 idly growing popularity of the theater, and turned to play 
 writing as most likely to advance his fortunes. His 
 first play. The \Yild Gallant, a wretched comedy, appeared 
 in 1663. He succeeded better in tragedy, and, as theater- 
 goers were pleased, his rise was rapid. In 1670 he made 
 a profitable contract with the most prominent company 
 of actors in London to provide three poetical dramas a 
 year. His services as a playwright were evidently too valu- 
 able to be dispensed with, for though he failed to supply 
 the promised number of plays he was long retained. He 
 cultivated this form of literature almost to the exclusion 
 of all other kinds until 1681. By this time he had writ- 
 ten twenty plays, mostly tragedies. The best of these, and 
 the only one of them readable now, is All for Love, a really 
 noble play in all respects, following Shakespeare's Antony 
 and Cleopatra very closely. The plays were usually pref- 
 aced by elaborate prose dedications and introductions con- 
 3 
 
10 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 taining discussions of literary theories and solicitations of 
 patronage. 
 
 Between 1663 and 1681 his most successful and only 
 remarkable nondramatic poem was Annus Mirabilis, or 
 Year of Wonders, appearing in 1667. This was a histor- 
 ical poem on the occurrences of 1666, recounting the suc- 
 cesses of the war with Holland and describing the great 
 fire of London. It brought him more prominently into 
 notice than had any of his previous work. 
 
 In 1667 he published his most influential and most 
 formal work of criticism, a prose Essay on Dramatic Poetry, 
 in which he investigates some principles of dramatic com- 
 position and justifies the use of rhyme- in tragedy. 
 
 His dramatic work came to be regarded with such favor 
 and his reputation as a poet became so distinguished that 
 in 1670, the year of his contract with the "King's Players," 
 he was appointed poet laureate to succeed Davenant, and 
 was also made historiographer royal. These coveted posi- 
 tions brought him a yearly salary of £200 and a butt of 
 wine. His total annual income for a number of years was 
 nominally about ten thousand dollars in present values, 
 but as royal grants were nearly always in arrears this esti- 
 mated sum is probably less than the actual amount. 
 
 In 1681 his powers were rather abruptly turned to*" an 
 entirely different field of literary activity, for -which he 
 was better fitted than for the drama, a field in which he 
 was easily master and in which he yet stands unapproached 
 — satire. His prominence had exposed him to attacks of 
 various kinds — political, personal, and literary. He had 
 been charged, falsely it has been proved, with the author- 
 ship of a bitter screed reflecting coarsely upon certain 
 politicians, and one night in December, 1679, he was way- 
 laid and severely beaten. Indirectly this turned his at- 
 tention to some of the political antagonists of the king. 
 
INTRODUCTION H 
 
 and in 1681 he published the most savage and most j^erfect 
 political satire in the language — Absalom and Achitojjhel. 
 In this terribly vituperative poem he compares the hand- 
 some, dashing, and popular Duke of Monmouth, natural 
 son of Charles II, to the wayward Absalom; Shaftesbury, 
 the Chancellor, to the traitorous Achitophel; and various 
 other Whig partisans to other false Hebrews of David's 
 time. In the same year Shaftesbury was indicted for 
 treason, but was discharged. His friends celebrated his 
 release by striking a medal. In 1682 Dryden contin- 
 ued his invective in The Medal, another satire scarcely less 
 perfect or less savage. These tirades seemed to please the 
 king, who gave Dryden a pension and honored him with 
 the collectorship of the port of London, practically the 
 same office held by Chaucer three hundred years before. 
 Among the authors of the many replies to these satires 
 were Shadwell and other literary rivals of Dryden of lim- 
 ited abilities, who made petty and exasperating attacks on 
 the great poet. Dryden was not patient under criticism 
 of himself nor of his work, and was roused to fury. He 
 flayed them with the stinging lash of contemptuous sar- 
 casm in MacFlecJcnoe, wherein he represents Shadwell 
 chosen, because of his unqualified competence, to occupy 
 the throne of dullness made vacant by the retirement of 
 Flecknoe, a feeble and inoffensive versifier who had died 
 a few months before. In 1682 Nahum Tate, afterward 
 laureate, wrote a second part to Absalom and Acliitophel, to 
 which Dryden added about two hundred lines. So ex- 
 cited was the political world at the time that these satires 
 were sold as few books, perhaps no book, had ever sold 
 in England before. 
 
 The ecclesiastical system was so closely attached to 
 the Government that it was easy and natural to pass from 
 semipolitical writing to religious writing. Accordingly, 
 
 # 
 
12 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 in 1682 Dryden showed his splendid powers of reasoning 
 in verse in Religio Laid (Religion of a Layman), a metrical 
 argument supporting the claims and doctrines of the Epis- 
 copal Establishment as against those of the Roman Catho- 
 lics and Dissenters. 
 
 King Charles died in 1G85, and was succeeded by his 
 brother as James 11. James was a Eoman Catholic, and 
 Dryden's conversion to the faith of the new king furnished 
 ample color for charges of insincerity, which the poet's 
 life afterward certainly disproved. In 1687 he wrote The 
 Hind and the Panther, a defense of the Roman Church, 
 labored in its mechanism, but beautiful and powerful in 
 details. The Roman Church is represented as a milk- 
 white hind, attacked by a beautiful but fierce and cunning 
 panther, the Episcopal Church, and by other predatory 
 animals, representing the various other denominations. 
 
 In 1688 James was deposed, and w^as succeeded by the 
 Protestant Whig sovereigns, William and Mary. Refus- 
 ing to give up his party or his Church, the Tory Dryden, 
 now growing old, was in 1689 deprived of his pensions 
 and salaried positions. He was humiliated, too, by seeing 
 Shadwell made laureate in his place. 
 
 Compelled now to support himself directly by his lit- 
 eray labors, Dryden bravely took up the task w^ith zeal 
 and industry. In 1690 he resumed the writing of plays, 
 which he had laid aside in 1 681. By 1691 he had produced 
 six dramas, one of which, Don Sehastian, is the best of 
 his wholly original plays. He still wrote panegyrics, more 
 beautiful and more sincere than those of his earlier years. 
 Regretting the scandalousness of his former work and its 
 cringing to popularity, he wrote as his true self prompted, 
 with cleaner pen and loftier purpose. The most of his 
 last work consisted of translations, largely from the Latin 
 poets. His ^neid, while not Vergil, to this day holds 
 
INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 deservedly high rank. His last book of all, printed only 
 a few months before his death, was Fables, a book of met- 
 rical versions of tales from Chaucer, Boccaccio, Ovid, and 
 Homer, together with a fine critical preface and a few 
 original poems. Among the latter is Alexander's Feast, 
 one of the most majestic odes in English. 
 
 He died on May 1, 1700. The splendor of his funeral 
 and the fact that he was esteemed worthy of a grave in 
 the Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey bore testimony 
 to the honor and reverence in which he was held by his 
 contemporaries. 
 
 Dryden was a man of much genius, whose peculiar 
 abilities, developed by a marvelous industry, made him not 
 only the greatest poet of his own time, but in many ways 
 one of the greatest in the history of English literature. 
 Earely has any man of note been so thoroughly identified 
 with his professional work as was Dryden. Nothing out- 
 side the realm of letters had interest for him. He delib- 
 erately determined to be a poet of high order, and, work- 
 ing with tireless energy and a powerful intellect, allowed 
 nothing to leave his hands until it was as perfect as he 
 knew how to make it. No other English poet shows such 
 unremittent growth in excellence. The moral qualities of 
 his work improved proportionally to his skill in versi- 
 fication. His last w^ork was his best, as his first was the 
 least admirable. The difference between Astrcea Redux 
 and Alexander's Feast or Palamon and Arcite is the difl;er- 
 ence between dawn and noonday. 
 
 From one point of view Dryden was a product of the 
 age in which he lived. He became an adherent of classi- 
 cism largely because classicism was fashionable. Al- 
 though he w^as always somewhat given to hyperbole and 
 bombast, he early outgrew the fascination of the Mari- 
 nists, and very soon became the most eminent exponent of 
 
14 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 the new school. His own good sense, however, taught 
 him the Hmits beyond which even the classical canons 
 must not be slavishly followed, and his own most estima- 
 ble work violates some of the mechanical rules and indi- 
 cates what Dryden might have been under other circum- 
 stances. 
 
 From another point of view, he was the literary leader 
 of his age. The spirit of the time introduced classical 
 tastes into England, but it was the influence of Dryden 
 that crystallized these tastes. During his lifetime his pop- 
 ularity as a poet was doubtless greater than that of any 
 English writer who lived previously. The power of his 
 example was therefore great. His prose prefaces con- 
 tained the formal statements of his theories. For years 
 he nightly gathered about him, in the famous Will's coffee- 
 house, a circle of admirers, to whom he laid down his 
 statutes and who became his devoted disciples. His liter- 
 ary dictums were received as oracles, and his literary king- 
 ship was supreme. He was fond of ancient literature, 
 and used Latin titles, and classical quotations, figures, and 
 allusions in abundance. The subjects with which he dealt 
 were of the same nature as those most approved by the 
 ancients. He was no lover of Nature, and there are few 
 lines that appeal to the spiritual nature of man. Yet, 
 not many poets excel him in vigor, melody, and dignity. 
 
 Although his own private life was in some degree 
 stained with the social corruption about him, the immo- 
 rality of his work during his struggle for place was but an 
 expedient and, as we may believe that he says truly, un- 
 congenial. Even rigid conformity to principles he himself 
 advocated was irksome, and he said of All for Love, his 
 fine paraphrase of Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, 
 that, while he wrote his other plays to please the people, 
 he wrote this to please himself. Had he written more to 
 
INTRODUCTION 15 
 
 please himself and less for popularity and wealth, his char- 
 acter as a man of letters would not have suffered. 
 
 His talent was critical, not creative. He could assimi- 
 late and adapt, but not originate. He was intellectual, 
 not spiritual. He could not feel. Accordingly, he was 
 not a lyrist, and, with all its magnificent diction and ex- 
 quisite rhythm, his poetry lacks the tenderness, the sweet- 
 ness, the grace, the glory, and the power to move of the 
 work of lofty inspiration. His work has marvelous beauty, 
 especially the work of the last years of his life, but it is 
 the artificial beauty of a polished statue laboriously carved 
 in marble, perfect in line and curve, and not the gentle 
 beauty of the daisy, nor the glorious beauty of a crimson 
 sunset, nor the majestic beauty of a towering mountain. 
 
 Dryden's prose was but incidental, and consisted almost 
 wholly of critical introductions to his poems and plays; 
 yet in its own sphere it was no less influential than his 
 poetry in affecting the canons of taste. He labored as 
 sedulously to make his prose simple, clear, and logical as 
 to make his verse artistically perfect. 
 
 Palamon and Akcite 
 
 Dryden was far above his contemporaries in poetical 
 ability. He was equally in advance of them in critical 
 discernment, for he was among the very few who appre- 
 ciated Shakespeare and Milton, and among the still fewer 
 who read Chaucer with admiration, or, in fact, read him at 
 all. To the artificial and narrow age of the Eestoration 
 the antiquated language forms of the fourteenth century 
 were so " barbarous " as to interfere seriously with any 
 extended acquaintance with Chaucer in the original. It 
 was no doubt partly from a desire to familiarize his coun- 
 trymen with the fine poetical material in Chaucer's work, 
 
16 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 as well as from a love of the task, that Dryden rewrote in 
 modern English copious selections from the old poet. 
 These paraphrases formed a part of the series of transla- 
 tions that appeared in Fables, the last of Dryden's publi- 
 cations. Far as is its spirit from that of Chaucer, Palamon 
 and Arcite is the best of the series, both for its own in- 
 trinsic merits as a metrical romance and as a translation. 
 
 Chaucer's greatest work, The Canterbury Tales, repre- 
 sents some thirty pilgrims, in the fourteenth century, gath- 
 ered by chance one evening at a Southwark inn, ready to 
 begin their journey in the morning to the shrine of St. 
 Thomas a Becket at Canterbury. The company was a 
 mixed one, composed of people from all the middle ranks 
 of English society — a knight, a nun, a monk, a prosperous 
 farmer, a lawyer, a doctor, a merchant, a sailor, etc. It 
 was proposed that for mutual pleasure they ride on to- 
 gether, and enliven the time by telling stories. Each per- 
 son was to relate two on the way thither and two on the 
 way back. The host was to accompany them as their 
 guide, and to act as judge of the excellence of the tales. 
 The traveler who should tell the best was to be rewarded on 
 the return with a supper at the expense of the others. The 
 various pilgrims are vividly described in the Prologue, and 
 their stories constitute the Tales. The series was never 
 completed, Chaucer dying before he had arranged even 
 one story for each. The knight was chosen by lot to tell 
 the first, and his tale is the story of Palamon and Arcite. 
 The plot of the poem is not original with Chaucer, who 
 had borrowed it from Boccaccio, ayIio in turn had taken 
 it from the Tliebais of Statins. The author, or authors, 
 of the Elizabethan play of The Tiuo Nohle Kinsmen, often 
 attributed in part to Shakespeare, also made use of the 
 principal features of the same story. 
 
 Palamon and Arcite was written by Dryden in his old 
 
INTRODUCTION 17 
 
 age, when, by a lifetime of careful practice, he had ac- 
 quired a mastery of smooth, balanced, sonorous versifica- 
 tion; when he had moderated his enthusiasm for the arti- 
 ficialities of the classical school; when he had repented of 
 the scandalous immorality that stained so many of his 
 writings; when his art was no longer tainted with sordid 
 motives. The poem therefore represents its author at 
 his very best in subject, in phraseology, and in moral tone. 
 While few of the classical principles are wholly wanting 
 of application in it, none is carried to an extreme, and the 
 less admirable features are greatly subordinated. 
 
 The Knighfs Tale contained so many elements of de- 
 scription and narration favored by the classicists that it 
 appealed to Dryden with particular interest. In Palamon 
 and Arcite Dryden kept closer to Chaucer's original than 
 he did in any other one of his translations. The sense 
 of the two poems corresponds almost line for line ; little is 
 omitted and little added — fewer than two hundred lines in 
 the aggregate. The greatest difference is found in spirit 
 and style. Dryden treated the subject according to pre- 
 vailing taste. Had a still different style *of verse been 
 fashionable, it is not unlikely that he would have acquired 
 skill to conform to its requirements. Power to do this 
 is essentially of intellect, and not of inspiration. Lack 
 of a full measure of the latter has kept Dryden, with all 
 his music and vigor, out of the first rank of poets, and a 
 wonderful endowment of the former places him at the 
 head of the poets of the second order. 
 
 Like most of Dryden's last work, Palamon and Arciie 
 is practically free from the local allusions that make rather 
 difficult nowadays a full comprehension of the nondra- 
 matic poems of his early and middle life. As a simple 
 narrative of pure adventure, the poem has a universal qual- 
 ity that renders it available literary material in any period. 
 
18 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 The preface to the Fables is a famous bit of literary 
 criticism, commenting on Homer, Ovid, and Chaucer. A 
 few passages are worth quoting, to show in his own words 
 Dryden's opinion of Chaucer and his own acknowledgment 
 of offenses against morality: 
 
 As he [Chaucer] is the father of EngHsh poetry, so I hold him in 
 the same degree of veneration as the Grecians held Homer, or the 
 Romans Virgil; he is a perpetual fountain of good sense; learned 
 in all sciences; and therefore speaks properly on all subjects. . . . 
 Chaucer followed Nature everywhere, but was never so bold to go 
 beyond her. . . . The verse of Chaucer, I confess, is not harmonious 
 to us ; . . . they who lived with him, and some time after him, thought 
 it musical ; . . . there is the rude sweetness of a Scotch tune in it, 
 which is natural and pleasing, though not perfect. . . . 
 
 He must have been a man of a most wonderful comprehensive 
 nature, because ... he has taken into the compass of his Canterhiry 
 Tales the various manners and humors ... of the whole English 
 nation in his age. . . . 
 
 Chaucer, I confess, is a rough diamond ; and must first be pol- 
 ished ere he shines. . . . An author is not to write all he can, but only 
 all he ought. Having observed this redundancy in Chaucer, I have 
 not tied myself to a literal translation, but have often omitted what I 
 judged unnecessary, or not of dignity enough to appear in the com- 
 pany of better thoughts. I have presumed further in some places, 
 and added somewhat of my own where I thought my author was defi- 
 cient, and had not given his thoughts their true luster, for want of 
 words in the beginning of our language. . . . 
 
 No man ever had or can have a greater veneration for Chaucer 
 than myself. I have translated some part of his works only that I 
 might perpetuate his memory, or at least refresh it amongst my coun- 
 trymen. If I have altered him anywhere for the better, I must at the 
 same time acknowledge that I could have done nothing without 
 him. . . . 
 
 I prefer in our countryman, far above all his other stories, the 
 noble poem of Palamon and Arcite, which is of the epic kind, and 
 perhaps not much inferior to the Ilias or the u^neis. The story is 
 more pleasing than either of them, the manners are as perfect, the 
 diction as poetical, the learning as deep and various, and the disposi- 
 tion as artful. . . . 
 
INTRODUCTION 19 
 
 May I have leave to do myself the justice ... to inform my 
 reader that I have confined my choice to such tales of Chaucer as 
 savor nothing of immodesty. . . . But I will no more offend against 
 good manners : I am sensible, as I ought to be, of the scandal I liave 
 given by my loose writings; and make what reparation I am able by 
 this public acknowledgment. . . . 
 
 I have pleaded guilty to all thoughts and expressions of mine 
 which can be truly argued of obscenity, profaneness, or immorality ; 
 and retract them. 
 
 Suggestions 
 
 Palamon and Arcite may be studied, independently of 
 its relation to Chaucer's Knight's Tale, on its own merits 
 as a fine tale well told by a master of verse who under- 
 stood the possibilities of melody in the English language. 
 Most teachers of literature have their own ways of pre- 
 senting masterpieces, and a discussion of method to any 
 extent is here superfluous. 
 
 The ultimate aim of literary study is inspiration of love 
 for what is beautiful and ennobling. A vital essential in 
 working toward this end is appreciation of literary quality. 
 In cultivating this appreciation more depends upon the 
 personality of the teacher than upon definable rules or de- 
 vices, however successfully they may have been applied by 
 any one instructor. Too much attention at the very be- 
 ginning to the details of structure, phraseology, or allu- 
 sion is commonly apt to stifle proper interest in the study, 
 and may profitably be postponed until the student has, 
 by rapid but careful reading, gained a good general knowl- 
 edge of the argument of the poem and is familiar with 
 the swing of the meter. There will then be a background 
 against which to work with greater rapidity and intelli- 
 gence. Much reading aloud should be insisted upon; with- 
 out vocal expression poetry of every sort loses a most deli- 
 cate charm. Students should be able to rehearse with fairly 
 complete details the events, descriptions, and moralizings 
 
20 PALAMOX AND ARCITE 
 
 of the poetical tale, either orally or in writing. Para- 
 phrasing is one of the commonest of exercises in a study 
 of classics, and perhaps one of the most abused. Such 
 reproductions must be made with great caution and under 
 severest criticism, or else by cultivating a habit of care- 
 less, crude composition they will become distinctly harm- 
 ful. A valuable kind of paraphrasing poetical matter is 
 a rewriting of passages with a specific purpose, such as 
 condensing or expanding the thought or varying the nature 
 of the discourse. 
 
 Discussions of literary and other features of a classic 
 and of appropriate themes suggested by the text are always 
 among the most valuable class exercises. The following 
 are a few suggested topics for special studies, papers, etc. 
 Where the nature of the assertions permits, every state- 
 ment should be supported by citations from the poem. 
 
 Frequency and effect of rhyming triplets. Of Alex- 
 andrines. Of variations in meter. 
 
 A contrast between the characters of Palamon and 
 Arcite. 
 
 Features of the classical school of English poetry illus- 
 trated in Palamon and Arcite. 
 
 Structural features of the poem that make it an ideal 
 narrative. 
 
 Anachronisms and their effect on the excellence of 
 the tale. 
 
 The confusion of Christian and pagan elements. 
 
 The ideal of true manhood as held by the ancient hero, 
 the mediaeval knight, and the modern Christian. 
 
 The treatment of Nature in the poem. 
 
 The expression of emotion by the characters in the 
 poem. 
 
 Words used by Dryden in a more primitive sense 
 than at present. 
 
INTRODUCTION 21 
 
 Faults of grammar and rhetoric. 
 
 Ehymes, perfect and imperfect. 
 
 A table showing in chronological order Dryden's liter- 
 ary works and the personal events of his life, together with 
 contemporary historical events in England and English 
 literary productions. 
 
 Narrative or descriptive elements of Palamon and Arcite 
 for which parallels are found in Yergil's ZEneid or Homer's 
 Iliad, 
 
 The poem may also be read as a translation, or close 
 paraphrase, of Chaucer's Kniglifs Tale, the work of a 
 much greater poet and more excellent master of the art 
 of story-telling than was Dryden. A very extended com- 
 parative study of Dryden and Chaucer, to amount to much 
 more than a mere perusing of the judgments of critics, 
 requires considerable familiarity with Chaucer's own work. 
 In comparing Palamon and Arcite with the Knight's Tale, 
 the most obvious differences, aside from the obsolete word 
 forms, are found in the balance of words and clauses and in 
 the pauses at the ends of lines. Among other conspicuous 
 features are the character of the additions and omissions 
 of Dryden, the frequent changes from specific to general ex- 
 pressions, and the greater abundance in the later work of 
 figures and allusions drawn from ancient literature. There 
 are more vital differences, however, which really determined 
 the mere mechanical differences noted above, and which 
 were prompted by the spirit of the age. These are dis- 
 covered in connection with the elements of force, humor, 
 naturalness, simplicity, spontaneity, picturesqueness, and 
 sympathy with Nature. A reasonably good understand- 
 ing of the differences with respect to these points may be 
 obtained by a careful examination of the following paral- 
 lel references ; the student ought then to have a fair inde- 
 pendent opinion of the comparative merits of the two poets: 
 
22 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 Appearance of Emily in the garden. Palamon and Arcife, I, 
 168-206; Kniglifs Tale, 175-197. 
 
 Arcite in the woods. P. and A., II, 33-70 ; K. T., 630-662. 
 
 Duel between the knights. P. and A., II, 166-209 ; K. T., 765-802. 
 
 Description of the temples. P. and A., II, 436-666; K. T., 
 1023-1230. 
 
 Prayers of Palamon, Emily, and Arcite. P. and A., Ill, 120-374; 
 K. T., 1350-1579. Or, more specifically, 
 
 Prayer of Palamon. P. and A., Ill, 129-178; K. T., 1363-1402. 
 
 Prayer of Emily. P. and A., Ill, 215-247; K. T., 1439-1472. 
 
 Prayer of Arcite. P. and A., Ill, 296-374; X. T., 1515-1579. 
 
 The tourney. P. a7id A., Ill, 572-664; K. T., 1741-1804. 
 
 Dying speech of Arcite. P. and A., Ill, 778-835; K. T., 
 1907-1952. 
 
 Eeadixgs 
 
 Some familiarity with the stjde of poetry in vogue 
 among lovers of literature just preceding the taste for the 
 more formal and polished verse of the classical school will 
 help greatly to a better appreciation of the peculiarities 
 of Dryden. The grace, the freedom, and the joyousness 
 of the Marinists, as well as their conceits, may be learned 
 in the dainty, quaint lyrics of Wither, Carew, Herrick, 
 Suckling, Lovelace, Herbert, and Crashaw, the best rep- 
 resentatives of their school. Excellent selections from the 
 work of these singers are to be found in the second volume 
 of Ward's English Poets, one of the most satisfactory an- 
 thologies of British poetry. Characteristic selections from 
 Butler and other contemporaries of Dryden are contained 
 in the same work. 
 
 A fair knowledge of the range of Dryden's poetic abil- 
 ity, excluding the dramatic, may be gained from a careful 
 reading of the suggested typical passages from his repre- 
 sentative work. The absurdity to which the excesses of 
 far-fetched comparison may be carried is shown in lines 
 53-66 of his elegy On the Death of Lord Hastings. Stanzas 
 13-19, 24, 33, 3-4, and 37 of Heroic Stanzas, characteriz- 
 
INTRODUCTION 23 
 
 ing Cromwell, should be read in connection with the obse- 
 quious lines 33-56 of the poem To His Sacred Majesty, 
 written on the occasion of tlie coronation of Charles II 
 in 1660. 
 
 Stanzas 24-35, 215-241, 260, 261, 271-276, 280-282 
 of Annus Mirahilis show Dryden's growing power in vigor 
 and sonorousness. There is still much degrading flattery 
 of Charles, and more than a lingering trace of his early 
 fondness for overwrought figures. 
 
 Dryden's terrible satire is at its fiercest in his charac- 
 terization of Shaftesbury as Achitophel and Buckingham 
 as Zimri in lines 150-219 and 544-568 respectively of 
 Absalom and Achitophel; in his opinion of Shadwell in Mac- 
 Flechnoe, lines 1-34, and in part two of Absalom and 
 Achitophel, lines 457-509; of Settle, ibid., lines 411-456; 
 and of public opinion in The Medal, lines 91-110. 
 
 Until late in life, Dryden continued his pandering to 
 unworthy royalty, as is attested in lines 104-117 of Britan- 
 nia Rediviva, a servile panegyric celebrating the birth of a 
 son to James II in 1688. In refreshing contrast to this 
 pompous fawning should be read the evidently sincere 
 tribute to a good man in lines 1-16, 36-49, 116-126, and 
 195—209 of the epistle to My Honored Kinsman, John 
 Driden; also his regret for his own foul work and his ad- 
 miration for a good woman, who wrote clean verse, in 
 stanzas 4 and 10 of his elegy to Mrs. [i. e.. Miss] Anne 
 Killigreiv. 
 
 The opening lines of Religio Laid are worth reading, 
 as also lines 305-355, commenting on tradition. Among 
 the best portions of the Hind and the Panther are the 
 assertion of the unity of the Eoman Catholic Church, Part 
 II, lines 525-555, and the description of the Episcopal 
 Church, Part I, lines 327-334. ' 
 
 His splendid ode, Alexandei-^s Feast, his fine Song for 
 
24 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 St. Cecilia's Day, the exquisite translation of Veni, Creator 
 Spiritus, one of the noblest of religious lyrics, and the 
 famous lines printed under the engraved portrait of Mil- 
 ton are by all odds the best known to-day of all Dryden's 
 work, and are, of his shorter poems, worthiest of being 
 remembered. They should be read in their unabridged 
 forms. 
 
 Most of the indicated selections are included in Ward's 
 English Poets, vol. ii. 
 
 Bibliography 
 
 While at the beginning of the study of an author's 
 works a general preliminary understanding of his environ- 
 ment is helpful, a reasonably full knowledge of the con- 
 tents of the body of his writings is even more necessary for 
 an intelligent reading of standard criticism. A student, 
 therefore, who wishes to make a somewhat extended in- 
 vestigation of Dryden should first read with care the most 
 important poems; minute study of the lines and allusions 
 may profitably come later. The critical material indicated 
 hereafter will then have meaning otherwise impossible. 
 
 The only complete edition of Dryden's works now at- 
 tainable in the ordinary book market is Saintsbury's revi- 
 sion of Sir Walter Scott's. As the plays, with the excep- 
 tion of All for Love, The Spanish Friar, and Don Sehas- 
 tian, are not worth reading now, a less complete edition 
 serves every need. The most useful edition of the poems 
 is Christie's, which contains, besides an accurate text and 
 a few of Dryden's most valuable prose critiques, excellent 
 notes, explanatory prefaces, and a scholarly critical mem- 
 oir. A standard edition of Chaucer's Prologue and Knight's 
 Tale, for use in a comparative study of Chaucer and Dry- 
 den, is Morris and Skeat's (Clarendon Press Series); Cor- 
 
INTRODUCTION 25 
 
 son's edition is an admirable one. The most convenient 
 one-volume edition of Chaucer's complete works is Mac- 
 millan's Globe edition. 
 
 The most accessible critical material for the study of 
 Dryden is contained in Johnson's Lives of the Poets; Ma- 
 caulay's essay on Dryden; Lowell's Among My BooTcs, vol. 
 i; Saintsbury's Dryden (English Men of Letters Series); 
 A. W. Ward's preface to selections from Dryden in Ward's 
 English Poets, vol. ii; Taine's History of English Litera- 
 ture, book iii; Garnett's Age of Dryden; Mitchell's English 
 Lands, Letters, and Kings {Elizabeth to Anne). Gosse's 
 Shakespeare to Pope is a very thorough investigation of 
 the rise of the English classical school. 
 
1 
 
 GEOFFEEY CHAUCER 
 
PALAMON AI^D AECITE 
 
 TO HER GRACE 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF ORMOND^ 
 
 With the following Poem of Palamon and Arcite 
 
 Madam, 
 The bard who first adorned our native tongue 
 Tuned to his British lyre this ancient song ; 
 Which Homer might without a blush reherse, 
 And leaves a doubtful palm in Virgil's verse : 
 He matched their beauties, where they most excel ; 5 
 
 Of love sung better, and of arms as well. 
 
 Vouchsafe, illustrious Ormond, to behold 
 What power the charms of beauty had of old ; 
 Xor wonder if such deeds of arms were done, 
 Inspired by two fair eyes that sparkled like your own. lo 
 
 If Chaucer by the best idea wrought. 
 And poets can divine each other's thought, 
 The fairest nymph"* before his eyes he set ; 
 And then the fairest was Plantagenet, 
 Who three contending princes made her prize, is 
 
 And ruled the rival nations with her eyes ; 
 Who left immortal trophies of her fame. 
 And to the noblest order" gave the name. 
 
 Like her, of equal kindred to the throne. 
 You keep her conquests, and extend your own : 20 
 
 27 
 
28 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 As when the stars, in their etherial race, 
 
 At length have rolled around the liquid space, 
 
 At certain periods they resume their place. 
 
 From the same point of heaven their course advance. 
 
 And move in measures of their former dance ; 25 
 
 Thus, after length of ages, she returns, 
 
 Restored in you, and the same place adorns : 
 
 Or you perform her office in the sphere. 
 
 Born of her blood, and make a new Platonic year\ 
 
 true Plantagenet, race divine, 30 
 
 (For beauty still is fataF to the line,) 
 Had Chaucer lived that angel-face to view, 
 Sure he had drawn his Emily from you ; 
 Or had you lived to judge the doubtful right. 
 Your noble Palamon had been the knight ; 35 
 
 And conquering Theseus from his side had sent 
 Your generous lord, to guide the Theban government. 
 
 Time shall accomplish that ; and I shall see 
 A Palamon in him, in you an Emily. 
 
 Already have the Fates your path prepared, 40 
 
 And sure presage your future sway declared : 
 When westward, like the sun, you took your way, 
 And from benighted Britain bore the day, 
 Blue Triton" gave the signal from the shore, 
 The ready Nereids'" heard, and swam before 45 
 
 To smooth the seas ; a soft Etesian gale"" 
 But just inspired, and gently swelled the sail ; 
 Portunus' took his turn, whose ample hand 
 Heaved up the lightened keel, and sunk the sand, 
 And steered the sacred vessel safe to land. 50 
 
 The land, if not restrained, had met your way, 
 Projected out a neck, and jutted to the sea. 
 Hibernia, prostrate at your feet, adored 
 In you the pledge of her expected lord, 
 Due to her isle ; a venerable name ; 65 
 
TO THE DUCHESS OF ORMOND 29 
 
 His father and his grandsire known to fame ; 
 Awed by that house, accustomed to command, 
 The sturdy kerns in due subjection stand, 
 Nor bear the reins in any foreign hand. 
 
 At your approach, they crowded to the port ; eo 
 
 And scarcely landed, you create a court : 
 As Ormond's harbinger, to you they run. 
 For Venus" is the promise of the Sun. 
 
 The waste of civil wars, their towns destroyed, 
 Pales'* unhonoured, Ceres' unemployed, 65 
 
 Were all forgot ; and one triumphant day 
 Wiped all the tears of three campaigns' away. 
 Blood, rapines, massacres, were cheaply brought, 
 So mighty recompense your beauty bought. 
 As when the dove returning bore the mark w 
 
 Of earth restored to the long-labouring ark, 
 The relics of mankind", secure of rest, 
 Oped every window to receive the guest. 
 And the fair bearer of the message blessed : 
 So, when you came, with loud repeated cries, 76 
 
 The nation took an omen from your eyes. 
 And God advanced his rainbow in the skies, 
 To sign inviolable peace restored ; 
 The saints with solemn shouts proclaimed the new accord. 
 
 When at your second coming you appear, ^^ 
 
 (For I foretell that millenary year) 
 The sharpened share shall vex the soil no more. 
 But earth unbidden shall produce her store ; 
 The land shall laugh, the circling ocean smile, 
 And Heaven's indulgence bless the holy isle. 85 
 
 Heaven from all ages has reserved for you 
 That happy clime, which venom never kncAv" ; 
 Or if it had been there, your eyes alone 
 Have power to chase all poison, but their own. 
 
 JS'ow in this interval, which Fate has cast so 
 
30 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 Betwixt your future glories and your past, 
 
 This pause of power, "tis Ireland's hour to mourn ; 
 
 While England celebrates your safe return, 
 
 By which you seem the seasons to command, 
 
 And bring our summers back to their forsaken land. 95 
 
 The vanquished isle our leisure must attend, 
 Till the fair blessing we vouchsafe to send ; 
 Xor can we spare you long, though often Ave may lend. 
 The dove was twice employed abroad, before 
 The world was dried, and she returned no more. 100 
 
 Xor dare we trust so soft a messenger, 
 New from her sickness, to that northern air ; 
 Eest here awhile your lustre to restore. 
 That they may see you, as you shone before ; 
 For yet, the eclipse not wholly past, you wade 105 
 
 Through some remains and dimness of a shade. 
 
 A subject in his prince may claim a right. 
 Nor suffer him with strength impaired to fight ; 
 Till force returns, his ardour we restrain. 
 And curb his warlike wish to cross the main. no 
 
 Now past the danger, let the learned begin 
 The inquiry, where disease could enter in ; 
 How those malignant atoms forced their way. 
 What in the faultless frame they found to make their prey, 
 Where every element was weighed so well, 115 
 
 That Heaven alone, who mixed the mass, could tell 
 Which of the four ingredients" could rebel ; 
 And where, imprisoned in so sweet a cage, 
 A soul might well be pleased to pass an age. 
 
 And yet the fine materials made it weak ; 120 
 
 Porcelain by being pure is apt to break. 
 Even to your breast the sickness durst aspire, 
 And forced from that fair temple to retire, 
 Profanely set the holy place on fire. 
 In vain your lord, like young Vespasian", mourned, 125 
 
TO THE DUCHESS OF ORMOND 31 
 
 When the fierce flames the sanctuary buri;ed ; 
 
 And I prepared to pay in verses rude 
 
 A most detested act" of gratitude : 
 
 Even this had been your Elegy, which now 
 
 Is offered for your health, the table of my vow"*. 130 
 
 Your angel sure our Morley's'' mind inspired, 
 To find the remedy your ill required ; 
 As once the Macedon", by Jove's decree. 
 Was taught to dream an herb for Ptolemy : 
 Or Heaven, which had such over-cost bestowed 135 
 
 As scarce it could afford to flesh and blood. 
 So liked the frame, he would not work anew, 
 To save the charges of another you'' ; 
 Or by his middle science did he steer. 
 And saw some great contingent good appear, uo 
 
 AVell worth a miracle to keep you here. 
 And for that end preserved the precious mould, 
 Which all the future Ormonds was to hold ; 
 And meditated, in his better mind. 
 An heir from you who may redeem the failing kind. 145 
 
 Blessed be the power which has at once restored 
 The hopes of lost succession to your lord ; 
 Joy to the first and last of each degree. 
 Virtue to courts, and, what I longed to see, 
 To you the Graces, and the Muse to me. 150 
 
 daughter of the Eose'', whose cheeks unite 
 The differing titles of the Red and White ; 
 Who heaven's alternate beauty well display. 
 The blush of morning and the milky way ; 
 Whose face is Paradise, but fenced from sin ; 155 
 
 For God in either eye has placed a cherubin. 
 
 All is your lord's alone ; even absent, he 
 Employs the care of chaste Penelope^ 
 For him you waste in tears your widowed hours. 
 For him your curious needle paints the flowers ; ico 
 
32 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 Such works of old imperial dames were taught, 
 Such for Ascanius" fair Elisa wrought. 
 
 The soft recesses of your hours improve 
 The three fair pledges of your happy love : 
 All other parts of pious duty done, 
 You owe your Ormond nothing but a son, 
 To fill in future times his father's place. 
 And wear the garter of his mother's race. 
 
PALAMOIsr AISTD AROITE 
 
 OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 
 
 FROM CHAUCER 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 In days of old there lived, of mighty fame, 
 A valiant Prince, and Theseus'" was his name ; 
 A chief, who more in feats of arms excelled, 
 The rising nor the setting sun beheld. 
 Of Athens he was lord ; much land he won, 
 And added foreign countries to his crown. 
 In Scythia with the w^arrior Queen he strove, 
 Whom first by force he conquered, then by love ; 
 He brought in triumph back the beauteous dame. 
 With whom her sister, fair Emilia, came. 
 With honour to his home let Theseus ride. 
 With Love to friend", and Fortune for his guide, 
 And his victorious army at his side. 
 I pass their warlike pomp, their proud array. 
 Their shouts, their songs, their welcome on the way ; 
 But, were it not too long, I would recite 
 The feats of Amazons, the fatal fight 
 Betwixt the hardy Queen and hero Knight ; 
 The town besieged, and how much blood it cost 
 The female army, and the Athenian host ; 
 The spousals of Hippolyta the Queen ; 
 What tilts and turneys at the feast were seen ; 
 
 33 
 
34: PALAMOX AND ARCITB 
 
 The storm at their return, the ladies' fear : 
 
 But these and other things I must forbear. 
 
 The field is spacious I design to sow 25 
 
 "With oxen far unfit to draw the plough : 
 
 The remnant" of my tale is of a length 
 
 To tire your patience, and to waste my strength ; 
 
 And trivial accidents" shall be forborn, 
 
 That others may have time to take their turn, 30 
 
 As was at first enjoined us by mine host. 
 
 That he, whose tale is best and pleases most, 
 
 Should win his supper at our common cost". 
 
 And therefore where I left, I will pursue 
 This ancient story, whether false or true, S5 
 
 In hope it may be mended with a new. 
 The Prince I mentioned, full of high renown, 
 In this array drew near the Athenian town ; 
 When, in his pomp and utmost of his pride 
 Marching, he chanced to cast his eye aside, 40 
 
 And saw a quire of mourning dames, who lay 
 By two and two across the common way : 
 At his approach they raised a rueful cry. 
 And beat their breasts, and held their hands on high. 
 Creeping and crying, till they seized at last 45 
 
 His courser's bridle and his feet embraced. 
 " Tell me," said Theseus, " what and whence you are. 
 And why this funeral pageant you prepare ? 
 Is this the Avelcome of my worthy deeds. 
 To meet my triumph in ill-omened weeds" ? so 
 
 Or envy you my praise, and would destroy 
 With grief my pleasures, and pollute my joy ? 
 Or are you injured, and demand relief ? 
 Xame your request, and I will ease your grief." 
 
 The most in years of all the mourning train 55 
 
 Began ; but swounded first away for pain ; 
 Then scarce recovered spoke : " Xor envy we 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 35 
 
 Tliy great renown, nor grudge thy victory ; 
 
 'Tis thine, King, the afflicted to redress, 
 
 And fame has filled the world with thy success : eo 
 
 We wretched women sue for that alone, 
 
 Which of thy goodness is refused to none ; 
 
 Let fall some drops of pity on our grief. 
 
 If what we beg be just, and we deserve relief ; 
 
 For none of us, who now thy grace implore, 65 
 
 But held the rank of sovereign queen before ; 
 
 Till, thanks to giddy Chance, which never bears 
 
 That mortal bliss should last for length of years, 
 
 She cast us headlong from our high estate. 
 
 And here in hope of thy return we wait, 70 
 
 And long have waited in the temple nigh, 
 
 Built to the gracious goddess Clemency. 
 
 But reverence thou the power whose name it bears, 
 
 Kelieve the oppressed, and wipe the widows' tears. 
 
 I, wretched I, have other fortune seen, 75 
 
 The wife of Capaneus", and once a Queen ; 
 
 At Thebes he fell ; cursed be the fatal day ! 
 
 And all the rest thou seest in this array 
 
 To make their moan their lords in battle lost. 
 
 Before that town besieged by our confederate host. so 
 
 But Creon", old and impious, who commands 
 
 The Theban city, and usurps the lands. 
 
 Denies the rites of funeral fires to those 
 
 Whose breathless bodies yet he calls his foes. 
 
 Unburned, unburied, on a heap they lie ; ss 
 
 Such is their fate, and such his tyranny ; 
 
 Xo friend has leave to bear away the dead. 
 
 But with their lifeless limbs his hounds are fed." 
 
 At this she shrieked aloud ; the mournful train 
 
 Echoed her grief, and grovelling on the plain, 90 
 
 With groans, and hands upheld, to move his mind. 
 
 Besought his pity to their helpless kind. 
 
36 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 The Prince was touclied, his tears began to flow, 
 And, as his tender heart would break in two, 
 He sighed ; and could not but their fate deplore, 95 
 
 So wretched now, so fortunate before. 
 Then lightly from his lofty steed he flew, 
 And raising one by one the suppliant crew. 
 To comfort each, full solemnly he swore. 
 That by the faith" which knights to knighthood bore, 100 
 And whatever else to chivalry belongs, 
 He would not cease, till he revenged their wrongs ; 
 That Greece should see performed what he declared, 
 And cruel Creon find his just reAvard. 
 He said no more, but shunning all delay 105 
 
 Eode on, nor entered Athens on his way ; 
 But left his sister and his queen behind7 
 And waved his royal banner in the wind. 
 Where in an argent field'' the God of War" 
 Was drawn triumphant on his iron car ; no 
 
 Eed was his sword, and shield, and whole attire. 
 And all the godhead seemed to glow with fire ; 
 Even the ground glittered where the standard flew. 
 And the green grass was dyed to sanguine hue. 
 High on his pointed lance his pennon" bore 115 
 
 His Cretan fight, the conquered Minotaur: 
 The soldiers shout around with generous rage, 
 And in that victory their own presage. 
 He praised their ardour, inly pleased to see 
 His host, the flower of Grecian chivalry. 120 
 
 All day he marched, and all the ensuing night, 
 And saw the city with returning light. 
 The process of the war I need not tell, 
 How Theseus conquered, and how Creon fell ; 
 Or after, how by storm the walls were won, 125 
 
 Or how the victor sacked and burned the town ; 
 How to the ladies he restored again 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 37 
 
 The bodies of tlieir lords in battle slain ; 
 
 And with what ancient rites they were interred ; 
 
 All these to fitter time shall be deferred : 130 
 
 I spare the widows' tears, their woful cries, 
 
 And howling at their husbands' obsequies ; 
 
 How Theseus at these funerals did assist, 
 
 And with what gifts the mourning dames dismissed. 
 
 Thus when the victor chief had Creon slain, i36 
 
 And conquered Thebes, he pitched upon the plain 
 His mighty camp, and when the day returned. 
 The country wasted and the hamlets burned, 
 And left the pillagers, to rapine bred, 
 Without control to strip and spoil the dead. 140 
 
 There, in a heap of slain, among the rest 
 Two youthful knights they found beneath a load oppressed 
 Of slaughtered foes, whom'' first to death they'' sent, 
 The trophies of their strength, a bloody monument. 
 Both fair, and both of royal blood they seemed, 145 
 
 Whom kinsmen to the crown the heralds deemed; 
 That day in equal arms they fought for fame ; 
 Their swords, their shields, their surcoats were the same : 
 Close by each other laid they pressed the ground. 
 Their manly bosoms pierced with many a grisly wound ; no 
 Nor well alive nor wholly dead they were. 
 But some faint signs of feeble life appear ; 
 The wandering breath was on the wing to part. 
 Weak was the pulse, and hardly heaved the heart. 
 These two were sisters' sons ; and Arcite one, 155 
 
 Much famed in fields, with valiant Palamon. 
 From these their costly arms the spoilers rent. 
 And softly both conveyed to Theseus' tent : 
 Whom, known of Creon's line and cured with care, 
 He to his city sent as prisoners of the war ; leo 
 
 Hopeless of ransom, and condemned to lie 
 In durance, doomed a lingering death to die. 
 
38 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 This done, he marched away with warlike sound, 
 And to his Athens turned with laurels crowned, 
 Where happy long he lived, much loved, and more renowned. 
 But in a tower, and never to be loosed, lee 
 
 The woful captive kinsmen are enclosed. 
 
 Thus year by year they pass, and day by day. 
 Till once ('twas on the morn of cheerful May) 
 The young Emilia, fairer to be seen ito 
 
 Than the fair lily on the flowery green. 
 More fresh than May herself in blossoms new, 
 (For with the rosy colour strove her hue,) 
 Waked, as her custom was, before the day. 
 To do the observance due to sprightly May ; ns 
 
 For sprightly May'' commands our youth to keep 
 The vigils of her night, and breaks their sluggard sleep ; 
 Each gentle breast with kindly warmth she moves ; 
 Inspires new flames, revives extinguished loves. 
 In this remembrance Emily ere day iso 
 
 Arose, and dressed herself in rich array ; 
 Fresh as the month, and as the morning fair, 
 Adown her shoulders fell her length of hair : 
 A ribband did the braided tresses bind. 
 The rest was loose, and wantoned in the wind : i85 
 
 Aurora" had but newly chased the night. 
 And purpled o'er the sky with blushing light, 
 When to the garden-walk she took her way. 
 To sport and trip along in cool of day. 
 And offer maiden vows in honour of the May. i9o 
 
 At every turn she made a little stand. 
 And thrust among the thorns her lily hand 
 To draw the rose ; and every rose she drew, 
 She shook the stalk, and brushed away the dew ; 
 Then party-coloured flowers of white and red'' 195 
 
 She wove, to make a garland for her head : 
 This done, she sung and carolled out so clear, 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 39 
 
 That men and angels might rejoice to hear; 
 
 Even wondering PhilomeF forgot to sing, 
 
 And learned from her to welcome in the spring. 200 
 
 The tower, of which before was mention made, 
 
 Within whose keep'' the captive knights were laid, 
 
 Built of a large extent, and strong withal, 
 
 Was one partition'' of the palace wall ; 
 
 The garden was enclosed within the square, 205 
 
 Where young Emilia took the morning air. 
 
 It happened Palamon, the prisoner knight, 
 Eestless for woe, arose before the light. 
 And with his jailor's leave desired to breathe 
 An air more wholesome than the damps beneath. 210 
 
 This granted, to the tower he took his way. 
 Cheered with the promise of a glorious day ; 
 Then cast a languishing regard around. 
 And saw with hateful eyes the temples crowned 
 With golden spires, and all the hostile ground. 215 
 
 He sighed, and turned his eyes, because he knew 
 'Twas but a larger jail he had in view ; 
 Then looked below, and from the castle's height 
 Beheld a nearer and more pleasing sight ; 
 The garden, which before he had not seen, 220 
 
 In spring's new livery clad of white and green. 
 Fresh flowers in wide parterres, and shady walks between. 
 This viewed, but not enjoyed, with arms across 
 He stood, reflecting on his country's loss ; 
 Himself an object of the public scorn, 225 
 
 And often wished he never had been born. 
 At last (for so his destiny required), 
 With walking giddy, and with thinking tired. 
 He through a little window cast his sight. 
 Though thick of bars, that gave a scanty light ; 230 
 
 But even that glimmering served him to descry 
 The inevitable charms of Emily. 
 
40 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 Scarce had he seen, but, seized with sudden smart, 
 Stung to the quick, he felt it at his heart ; 
 Struck blind with overpowering light he stood, 235 
 
 Then started back amazed, and cried aloud. 
 
 Young Arcite heard ; and up he ran with haste, 
 To help his friend, and in his arms embraced; 
 And asked him why he looked so deadly wan. 
 And whence, and how, his change of cheer began ? 240 
 
 Or who had done the offence ? " But if," said he, 
 " Your grief alone is hard captivity. 
 For love of Heaven with patience undergo 
 A cureless ill, since Fate will have it so : 
 So stood our horoscope in chains to lie, 245 
 
 And Saturn in the dungeon of the sky"*. 
 Or other baleful aspect, ruled our birth. 
 When all the friendly stars were under earth ; 
 AVhate'er betides, by Destiny 'tis done ; 
 And better bear like men than vainly seek to shun." 250 
 " Nor of my bonds," said Palamon again, 
 " Xor of unhappy planets I complain ; 
 But when my mortal anguish caused my cry, 
 The moment I was hurt through either eye ; 
 Pierced with a random shaft, I faint away, 255 
 
 And perish with insensible decay : 
 A glance of some new goddess gave the wound, 
 Whom, like Actseon", unaware I found. 
 Look how she walks along yon shady space ; 
 Xot Juno moves with more majestic grace, 260 
 
 And all the Cyprian" queen is in her face. 
 If thou art Venus (for thy charms confess 
 That face was formed in heaven), nor art thou less, 
 Disguised in habit, undisguised in shape, 
 help us captives from our chains to scape ! 266 
 
 But if our doom be past in bonds to lie 
 For life, and in a loathsome dungeon die, 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 41 
 
 Then be thy wrath appeased with our disgrace, 
 
 And show compassion to the Theban race, 
 
 Oppressed by tyrant power ! " — While yet he spoke, 270 
 
 Arcite on Emily had fixed his look ; 
 
 The fatal dart' a ready passage found 
 
 And deep within his heart infixed the wound : 
 
 So that if Palamon were wounded sore, 
 
 Arcite was hurt as much as he or more : 275 
 
 Then from his inmost soul he sighed, and said, 
 
 " The beauty I behold has struck me dead : 
 
 Unknowingly she strikes, and kills by chance ; 
 
 Poison is in her eyes, and death in every glance. 
 
 Oh, I must ask ; nor ask alone, but move sso 
 
 Her mind to mercy, or must die for love." 
 
 Thus Arcite : and thus Palamon replies 
 
 (Eager his tone, and ardent were his eyes,) 
 
 " Speakest thou in earnest, or in jesting vein ? " 
 
 " Jesting," said Arcite, " suits but ill with pain." 235 
 
 " It suits far worse," (said Palamon again. 
 
 And bent his brows,) " with men who honour weigh. 
 
 Their faith to break, their friendship to betray ; 
 
 But worst with thee, of noble lineage born, 
 
 My kinsman, and in arms my brother sworn. 290 
 
 Have we not plighted each our holy oath. 
 
 That one should be the common good of both ; 
 
 One soul should both inspire, and neither prove 
 
 His fellow's hindrance in pursuit of love ? 
 
 To this before the Gods we gave our hands, 295 
 
 And nothing but our death can break the bands. 
 
 This binds thee, then, to farther my design. 
 
 As I am bound by vow to farther thine : 
 
 Nor canst, nor darest thou, traitor, on the plain 
 
 Appeach my honour, or thy own maintain, 300 
 
 Since thou art of my council, and the friend 
 
 AVhose faith I trust, and on whose care depend. 
 4 
 
42 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 And wouldst thou court my kdy's love, which I 
 
 Much rather than release, would choose to die ? 
 
 But thou, false Arcite, never shalt obtain, 305 
 
 Thy bad pretence ; I told thee first my pain : 
 
 For first my love began ere thine was born ; 
 
 Thou as my council, and my brother sworn, 
 
 Art bound to assist my eldership of right. 
 
 Or justly to be deemed a perjured knight." 310 
 
 Thus Palamon : but Arcite with disdain 
 In haughty language thus replied again : 
 " Forsworn thyself : the traitor's odious name 
 I first return, and then disprove thy claim. 
 If love be passion, and that passion nurst 315 
 
 With strong desires, I loved the lady first. 
 Canst thou pretend desire, whom zeal inflamed 
 To worship, and a power celestial named ? 
 Thine was devotion to the blest above, 
 I saw the woman, and desired her love ; 320 
 
 First owned my passion, and to thee commend 
 The important secret, as my chosen friend. 
 Suppose (which yet I grant not) thy desire 
 A moment elder than my rival fire ; 
 
 Can chance of seeing first thy title prove ? 325 
 
 And knowst thou not, no law is made for love ? 
 Law is to things which to free choice relate ; 
 Love is not in our choice, but in our fate ; 
 Laws are not positive ; love's power we see 
 Is Nature's sanction, and her first decree. 330 
 
 Each day we break the bond of human laws 
 For love, and vindicate the common cause. 
 Laws for defence of civil rights are placed. 
 Love throws the fences down, and makes a general waste. 
 Maids, widows, wives without distinction fall ; 335 
 
 The sweeping deluge, love, comes on and covers all. 
 If then the laws of friendship I transgress. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE' 43 
 
 I keep the greater, while I break the less ; 
 
 And both are mad alike, since neither can possess. 
 
 Both hopeless to be ransomed, never more 340 
 
 To see the sun, but as he passes o'er. 
 
 Like ^sop's" hounds contending for the bone, 
 
 Each pleaded right, and would be lord alone ; 
 
 The fruitless fight continued all the day, 
 
 A cur came by and snatched the prize away. 345 
 
 As courtiers therefore justle for a grant. 
 
 And when they break their friendship, plead their want, 
 
 So thou, if Fortune will thy suit advance. 
 
 Love on, nor envy me my equal chance : 
 
 For I must love, and am resolved to try 350 
 
 My fate, or failing in the adventure die." 
 
 Great was their strife, which hourly was renewed. 
 Till each with mortal hate his rival viewed : 
 Xow friends no more, nor walking hand in hand ; 
 But when they met, they made a surly stand, 355 
 
 And glared like angry lions as they passed. 
 And wished that every look might be their last. 
 
 It chanced at length, Pirithous'' came to attend 
 This worthy Theseus, his familiar friend : 
 Their love in early infancy began, seo 
 
 And rose as childhood ripened into man. 
 Companions of the war ; and loved so well. 
 That when one died, as ancient stories tell, 
 His fellow to redeem him went to heir. 
 
 But to pursue my tale : to welcome home 365 
 
 His warlike brother is Pirithous come : 
 Arcite of Thebes was known in arms long since. 
 And honoured by this young Thessalian prince. 
 Theseus, to gratify his friend and guest. 
 Who made our Arcite's freedom his request, 370 
 
 Eestored to liberty the captive knight. 
 But on these hard conditions I recite : 
 
44 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 That if hereafter Arcite should be found 
 
 Within the compass of Athenian ground, 
 
 By day or night, or on whate'er pretence, 375 
 
 His head should pay the forfeit of the oifence. 
 
 To this Pirithous for his friend agreed. 
 
 And on his promise was the prisoner freed. 
 
 Unpleased and pensive hence he takes his way, 
 At his own peril ; for his life must pay. sso 
 
 "Who now but Arcite mourns his bitter fate. 
 Finds his dear purchase^ and repents too late ? 
 " What have I gained," he said, "• in prison pent, 
 If I but change my bonds for banishment ? 
 And banished from her sight, I suffer more 335 
 
 In freedom than I felt in bonds before ; 
 Forced from her presence and condemned to live. 
 Unwelcome freedom and unthanked reprieve : 
 Heaven is not but where Emily abides. 
 And where she's absent, all is hell besides. 390 
 
 Kext to my day of birth, was that accurst 
 Which bound my friendship to Pirithous first : 
 Had I not known that prince, I still had been 
 In bondage, and had still Emilia seen : 
 For though I never can her grace deserve, 395 
 
 'Tis recompense enough to see and serve. 
 
 Palamon, my kinsman and my friend. 
 How much more happy fates thy love attend ! 
 Thine is the adventure, thine the victory. 
 
 Well has thy fortune turned the dice for thee : 400 
 
 Thou on that angel's face mayest feed thy eyes, 
 In prison, no ; but blissful paradise ! 
 Thou daily seest that sun of beauty shine. 
 And lovest at least in love's extremest line. 
 
 1 mourn in absence, love's eternal night ; 405 
 And who can tell but since thou hast her sight, 
 
 And art a comely, young, and valiant knight. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 45 
 
 Fortune (a various power) may cease to frown, 
 
 And by some ways unknown thy wishes crown ? 
 
 But I, the most forlorn of human kind, 410 
 
 Nor help can hope nor remedy can find ; 
 
 But doomed to drag my loathsome life in care, 
 
 For my reward, must end it in despair. 
 
 Fire, water, air, and earth, and force of fates 
 
 That governs all, and Heaven that all creates, 415 
 
 Nor art, nor Nature's hand can ease my grief ; 
 
 Nothing but death, the wretch's last relief : 
 
 Then farewell youth, and all the joys that dwell 
 
 With youth and life, and life itself, farewell ! 
 
 But why, alas ! do mortal men in vain 420 
 
 Of Fortune, Fate, or Providence complain ? 
 God gives us what he knows our wants require. 
 And better things than those which we desire : 
 Some pray for riches ; riches they obtain ; 
 But, watched by robbers, for their wealth are slain ; 425 
 Some pray from prison to be freed ; and come. 
 When guilty of their vows, to fall at home ; 
 Murdered by those they trusted with their life, 
 A favoured servant or a bosom wife. 
 
 Such dear-bought blessings happen every day, 430 
 
 Because we know not for what things to pray. 
 Like drunken sots about the streets we roam : 
 Well knows the sot he has a certain home. 
 Yet knows not how to find the uncertain place, 
 And blunders on, and staggers every pace. 435 
 
 Thus all seek happiness ; but few can find, 
 For far the greater part of men are blind. 
 This is my case, who thought our utmost good 
 Was in one word of freedom understood : 
 The fatal blessing came : from prison free, 440 
 
 I starve abroad, and lose the sight of Emily." 
 
 Thus Arcite : but if Arcite thus deplore 
 
46 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 His sufferings, Palamon yet suffers more. 
 
 For when he knew his rival freed and gone, 
 
 He swells with wrath ; he makes outrageous moan ; 445 
 
 He frets, he fumes, he stares, he stamps the ground ; 
 
 The hollow tower with clamours rings around : 
 
 With briny tears he bathed his fettered feet, 
 
 And dropped all o'er with agony of sweat. 
 
 " Alas ! " he cried, " I, wretch in prison pine, 450 
 
 Too happy rival, while the fruit is thine : 
 
 Thou livest at large, thou drawest thy native air, 
 
 Pleased with thy freedom, proud of my despair : 
 
 Thou mayest, since thou hast youth and courage joined, 
 
 A sweet behaviour and a solid mind, 455 
 
 Assemble ours, and all the Theban race. 
 
 To vindicate on Athens thy disgrace ; 
 
 And after (by some treaty made) possess 
 
 Fair Emily, the pledge of lasting peace. 
 
 So thine shall be the beauteous prize, while I 46o 
 
 Must languish in despair, in prison die. 
 
 Thus all the advantage of the strife is thine. 
 
 Thy portion double joys, and double sorrows mine." 
 
 The rage of jealousy then fired his soul. 
 And his face kindled like a burning coal : 465 
 
 Kow cold despair, succeeding in her stead, 
 To livid paleness turns the glowing red. 
 His blood, scarce liquid, creeps within his veins, 
 Like water which the freezing wind constrains. 
 Then thus he said : " Eternal Deities, 470 
 
 Who rule the world with absolute decrees. 
 And write whatever time shall bring to i^ass 
 With pens of adamant on plates of brass ; 
 What is the race of human kind your care 
 Beyond what all his fellow-creatures are ? 475 
 
 He with the rest is liable to pain. 
 And like the sheep, his brother-beast, is slain. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE ' 47 
 
 Cold, hunger, prisons, ills without a cure, 
 
 All these he must, a-nd guiltless oft, endure ; 
 
 Or does your justice, power, or prescience fail, 48o 
 
 When the good suffer and the bad prevail ? 
 
 What worse to wretched virtue could befal, 
 
 If Fate or giddy Fortune governed all ? 
 
 Nay, worse than other beasts is our estate : 
 
 Them, to pursue their pleasures, you create ; 435 
 
 We, bound by harder laws, must curb our will, 
 
 And your commands, not our desires, fulfil : 
 
 Then, when the creature is unjustly slain. 
 
 Yet, after death at least, he feels no pain ; 
 
 But man in life surcharged with woe before, 490 
 
 Not freed when dead, is doomed to suffer more. 
 
 A serpent shoots his sting at unaware ; 
 
 An ambushed thief f orelays a traveller ; 
 
 The man lies murdered, while the thief and snake. 
 
 One gains the thickets, and one thrids the brake. 495 
 
 This let divines decide ; but well I know. 
 
 Just or unjust, I have my share of woe. 
 
 Through Saturn seated in a luckless place. 
 
 And Juno's wrath" that persecutes my race ; 
 
 Or Mars and Venus in a quartil move'' boo 
 
 My pangs of jealousy for Arcite's love." 
 
 Let Palamon oppressed in bondage mourn, 
 While to his exiled rival we return. 
 By this the sun, declining from his height. 
 The day had shortened to prolong the night : 505 
 
 The lengthened night gave length of misery. 
 Both to the captive lover and the free : 
 For Palamon in endless prison mourns. 
 And Arcite forfeits life if he returns ; 
 The banished never hopes his love to see, eio 
 
 Xor hopes the captive lord his liberty. 
 'Tis hard to say who suffers greater pains ; 
 
48 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 One sees his love but cannot break his chains ; 
 
 One free, and all his motions uncontrolled, 
 
 Beholds whate'er he would but what he would behold. 515 
 
 Judge as you please, for I will haste to tell 
 
 What fortune to the banished knight befel. 
 
 When Arcite was to Thebes returned again, 
 
 The loss of her he loved renewed his pain ; 
 
 What could be worse than never more to see 520 
 
 His life, his soul, his charming Emily ? 
 
 He raved with all the madness of despair, 
 
 He roared, he beat his breast, he tore his hair. 
 
 Dry sorrow in his stupid eyes appears. 
 
 For wanting nourishment, he wanted tears ; S25 
 
 His eyeballs in their hollow sockets sink. 
 
 Bereft of sleep ; he loathes his meat and drink ; 
 
 He withers at his heart, and looks as wan 
 
 As the pale spectre of a murdered man : 
 
 That pale turns yellow, and his face receives 530 
 
 The faded hue of sapless boxen leaves ; 
 
 In solitary groves he makes his moan. 
 
 Walks early out, and ever is alone ; 
 
 Nor, mixed in mirth, in youthful pleasure shares, 
 
 But sighs when songs and instruments he hears. 535 
 
 His spirits are so low, his voice is drowned. 
 
 He hears as from afar or in a swound, 
 
 Like the deaf murmurs of a distant sound : 
 
 Uncombed his locks, and squalid his attire, 
 
 Unlike the trim of love and gay desire ; 540 
 
 But full of museful mopings, which presage 
 
 The loss of reason and conclude in rage. 
 
 This when he had endured a year and more, 
 'Now wholly changed from what he was before. 
 It happened once, that, slumbering as he lay, 545 
 
 He dreamt (his dream began at break of day) 
 That Hermes" o'er his head in air ai^peared, 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 49 
 
 And with soft words his drooping spirits cheered ; 
 
 His hat adorned with wings disclosed the god, 
 
 And in his hand he bore the sleep-compelling rod ; 550 
 
 Such as he seemed, when, at his sire's command. 
 
 On Argus"* head he laid the snaky wand. 
 
 *^ Arise," he said, " to conquering Athens go ; 
 
 There Fate appoints an end of all thy woe." 
 
 The fright awakened Arcite with a start, 555 
 
 Against his bosom bounced his heaving heart ; 
 
 But soon he said, with scarce recovered breath, 
 
 " And thither will I go to meet my death, 
 
 Sure to be slain ; but death is my desire. 
 
 Since in Emilia's sight I shall expire." b6o 
 
 By chance he spied a mirror while he spoke, 
 
 And gazing there beheld his altered look ; 
 
 Wondering, he saw his features and his hue 
 
 So much were changed that scarce himself he knew. 
 
 A sudden thought then starting in his mind, 565 
 
 " Since I in Arcite cannot Arcite find. 
 
 The world may search in vain with all their eyes. 
 
 But never penetrate through this disguise. 
 
 Thanks to the change which grief and sickness give, 
 
 In low estate I may securely live, 570 
 
 And see, unknown, my mistress day by day." 
 
 He said, and clothed himself in coarse array, 
 
 A labouring hind in show ; then forth he went, 
 
 And to the Athenian towers his journey bent : 
 
 One squire attended in the same disguise, 575 
 
 Made conscious of his master's enterprise. 
 
 Arrived at Athens, soon he came to court. 
 
 Unknown, unquestioned in that thick resort : 
 
 Proffering for hire his service at the gate. 
 
 To drudge, draw water, and to run or wait. 680 
 
 So fair befel him, that for little gain 
 He served at first Emilia's chamberlain; 
 
50 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 And, watchful all advantages to spy, 
 
 AVas still at hand, and in his master's eye ; 
 
 And as his bones were big, and sinews strong, 585 
 
 Eef used no toil that could to slaves belong ; 
 
 But from deep wells with engines water drew, 
 
 And used his noble hands the wood to hew. 
 
 He passed a year at least attending thus 
 
 On Emily, and called Philostratus. 590 
 
 But never was there man of his degree 
 
 So much esteemed, so well beloved as he. 
 
 So gentle of condition was he known. 
 
 That through the court his courtesy was blown : 
 
 All think him worthy of a greater place, 595 
 
 And recommend him to the royal grace ; 
 
 That exercised within a higher sphere. 
 
 His virtues more conspicuous might appear. 
 
 Thus by the general voice was Arcite praised. 
 
 And by great Theseus to high favour raised ; eoo 
 
 Among his menial servants first enrolled. 
 
 And largely entertained with sums of gold : 
 
 Besides what secretly from Thebes was sent, 
 
 Of his own income and his annual rent. 
 
 This well employed, he purchased friends and fame, ' 005 
 
 But cautiously concealed from whence it came. 
 
 Thus for three years he lived with large increase 
 
 In arms of honour, and esteem in peace ; 
 
 To Theseus' person he was ever near. 
 
 And Theseus for his virtues held him dear. eio 
 
BOOK II 
 
 While Arcite lives in bliss, the story turns 
 Where hopeless Palamon in prison mourns. 
 For six long years immured, the captive knight 
 Had dragged his chains, and scarcely seen the light : 
 Lost liberty and love at once he bore ; 5 
 
 His prison pained him much, his passion more : 
 Nor dares he hope his fetters to remove, 
 Nor ever wishes to be free from love. 
 
 But when the sixth revolving year was run. 
 And May within the Twins' received the sun, 10 
 
 Were it by Chance, or forceful Destiny, 
 Which forms in causes first whate'er shall be, 
 Assisted by a friend one moonless night. 
 This Palamon from prison took his flight : 
 A pleasant beverage he prepared before 15 
 
 Of wine and honey mixed, with added store 
 Of opium ; to his keeper this he brought, 
 Who swallowed unaware the sleepy draught. 
 And snored secure till morn, his senses bound 
 In slumber, and in long oblivion drowned. 20 
 
 Short was the night, and careful Palamon 
 Sought the next covert ere the rising sun. 
 A thick-spread forest near the city lay. 
 To this with lengthened strides he took his way, 
 (For far he could not fly, and feared the day.) 25 
 
 Safe from pursuit, he meant to shun the light, 
 Till the brown shadows of the friendly night 
 To Thebes might favour his intended flight. 
 When to his country come, his next design 
 
 51 
 
52 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 Was all the Theban race in arms to join", y^: 
 
 And war on Theseus, till he lost his life, 
 
 Or won the beauteous Emily to wife. 
 
 Thus while his thoughts the lingering day beguile, 
 
 To gentle Arcite let us turn our style'' ; 
 
 Who little dreamt how nigh he was to care, 
 
 Till treacherous fortune caught him in the snare. 
 
 The morning-lark, the messenger of day. 
 
 Saluted in her song the morning gray ; 
 
 And soon the sun arose with beams so bright, 
 
 That all the horizon laughed to see the joyous sight ; 
 
 He with his tepid rays the rose renews, 
 
 And licks the dropping leaves, and dries the dews ; 
 
 When Arcite left his bed, resolved to pay 
 
 Observance to the month of merry May, 
 
 Forth on his fiery stead betimes he rode. 
 
 That scarcely prints the turf on which he trod : 
 
 At ease he seemed, and prancing o'er the plains, 
 
 Turned only to the grove his horse's reins. 
 
 The grove I named before, and, lighting there, 
 
 A woodbind garland sought to crown his hair ; 
 
 Then turned his face against the rising day. 
 
 And raised his voice to welcome in the May : 
 
 " For thee, sweet month, the groves green liveries wear. 
 
 If not the first, the fairest of the year : 
 
 For thee the Graces'" lead the dancing hours. 
 
 And Nature's ready pencil paints the flowers : 
 
 When thy short reign is past, the feverish sun 
 
 The sultry tropic fears, and moves more slowly on. 
 
 So may thy tender blossoms fear no blight, 
 
 Nor goats with venomed teeth thy tendrils bite, 
 
 As thou shalt guide my wandering feet to find 
 
 The fragrant greens I seek, my brows to bind." 
 
 His vows addressed, within the grove he strayed, 
 Till Fate or Fortune near the place conveyed 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 53 
 
 His steps where secret Palamon was laid. es 
 
 Full little thought of him the gentle knight, 
 
 Who flying death had there concealed his flight, 
 
 In brakes and brambles hid, and shunning mortal sight ; 
 
 And less he knew him for his hated foe, 
 
 But feared him as a man he did not know. ^ 70 
 
 But as it has been said of ancient years, 
 
 That fields are full of eyes and woods have ears. 
 
 For this the wise are ever on their guard, 
 
 For unforeseen, they say, is unprepared, 
 
 Uncautious Arcite thought himself alone, 75 
 
 And less than all suspected Palamon, 
 
 AVho, listening, heard him, while he searched the grove, 
 
 And loudly sung his roundelay of love : 
 
 But on the sudden stopped, and silent stood, 
 
 (As lovers often muse, and change their mood ;) so 
 
 Now high as heaven, and then as low as hell, 
 
 Kow up, now down, as buckets in a well : 
 
 For Venus, like her day, will change her cheer", 
 
 And seldom shall we see a Friday" clear. 
 
 Thus Arcite, having sung, with altered hue ss 
 
 Sunk on the ground, and from his bosom drew 
 
 A desperate sigh, accusing Heaven and Fate, 
 
 And angry Juno's unrelenting hate'' : 
 
 " Cursed be the day when first I did appear; 
 
 Let it be blotted from the calendar, 90 
 
 Lest it pollute the month, and poison all the year. 
 
 Still will the jealous Queen pursue our race ? 
 
 Cadmus is dead, the Theban city was : 
 
 Yet ceases not her hate ; for all who come 
 
 From Cadmus are involved in Cadmus' doom. »5 
 
 I suffer for my blood : unjust decree. 
 
 That punishes another's crime on me. 
 
 In mean estate I serve my mortal foe. 
 
 The man who caused my country's overthrow. 
 
54 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 This is not all ; for Juno, to my shame, loo 
 
 Has forced me to forsake my former name ; 
 
 Arcite I was, Philostratus I am. 
 
 That side of heaven" is all my enemy : 
 
 Mars ruined Thebes ; his mother ruined me. 
 
 Of all the royal race remains but one 105 
 
 Besides myself, the unhappy Palamon, 
 
 Whom Theseus holds in bonds and will not free ; 
 
 Without a crime, except his kin to me. 
 
 Yet these and all the rest I could endure ; 
 
 But love's a malady without a cure : 110 
 
 Fierce Love has pierced me with his fiery dart, 
 
 He fries within, and hisses at my heart. 
 
 Your eyes, fair Emily, my fate pursue ; 
 
 I suffer for the rest, I die for you. 
 
 Of such a goddess no time leaves record, 115 
 
 Who burned the temple where she was adored : 
 
 And let it burn, I never will complain, 
 
 Pleased with my sufferings, if you knew my pain." 
 
 At this a sickly qualm his heart assailed, 
 His ears ring inward, and his senses failed. 120 
 
 Xo word missed Palamon of all he spoke ; 
 But soon to deadly pale he changed his look : 
 He trembled every limb, and felt a smart, 
 As if cold steel had glided through his heart ; 
 Nor longer stayed, but starting from his place, 125 
 
 Discovered stood, and showed his hostile face : 
 
 " False traitor, Arcite, traitor to thy blood, 
 Bound by thy sacred oath to seek my good, 
 Xow art thou found forsworn for Emily, 
 And darest attempt her love, for whom I die. iso 
 
 So hast thou cheated Theseus with a wile. 
 Against thy vow, returning to beguile 
 Under a borrowed name : as false to me. 
 So false thou art to him who set thee free. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 55 
 
 But rest assured, that either thou shalt die, 135 
 
 Or else renounce thy claim in Emily ; 
 
 For though unarmed I am, and, freed by chance, 
 
 Am here without my sword or pointed lance, 
 
 Hope not, base man, unquestioned hence to go, 
 
 For I am Palamon, thy mortal toe." uo 
 
 Arcite, who heard his tale and knew the man. 
 His sword unsheathed, and fiercely thus began : 
 " Now, by the gods who govern heaven above, 
 Wert thou not weak with hunger, mad with love, 
 That word had been thy last ; or in this grove 145 
 
 This hand should force thee to renounce thy love ; 
 The surety which I gave thee I defy : 
 Fool, not to know that love endures no tie, 
 And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury. 
 Know, I will serve the fair in thy despite ; 160 
 
 But since thou art my kinsman and a knight. 
 Here, have my faith, to-morrow in this grove 
 Our arms shall plead the titles of our love : 
 And Heaven so help my right, as I alone 
 Will come, and keep the cause and quarrel both unknown, 155 
 With arms of proof both for myself and thee ; 
 Choose thou the best, and leave the worst to me. 
 And, that at better ease thou mayest abide. 
 Bedding and clothes I will this night provide. 
 And needful sustenance, that thou mayest be leo 
 
 A conquest better won, and worthy me." 
 His promise Palamon accepts ; but prayed, 
 To keep it better than the first he made. 
 Thus fair they parted till the morrow's dawn ; 
 For each had laid his plighted faith to pawn. les 
 
 Oh Love ! thou sternly dost thy power maintain, 
 And wilt not bear a rival in thy reign ! 
 Tyrants and thou all fellowship disdain. 
 This was in Arcite proved and Palamon : 
 
56 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 Both in despair, yet each would love alone. no 
 
 Arcite returned, and, as in honour tied. 
 
 His foe with bedding and with food supplied ; 
 
 Then, ere the day, two suits of armour sought. 
 
 Which borne before him on his steed he brought : 
 
 Both Avere of shining steel, and wrought so pure 175 
 
 As might the strokes of two such arms endure. 
 
 Now, at the time, and in the appointed place, 
 
 The challenger and challenged, face to face. 
 
 Approach ; each other from afar they knew, 
 
 And from afar their hatred changed their hue. iso 
 
 So stands the Thracian herdsman with his spear, 
 
 Full in the gap, and hopes the hunted bear. 
 
 And hears him rustling in the wood, and sees 
 
 His course at distance by the bending trees ; 
 
 And thinks. Here comes my mortal enemy, m 
 
 And either he must fall in fight, or I : 
 
 This while he thinks, he lifts aloft his dart ; 
 
 A generous chillness seizes every part. 
 
 The veins pour back the blood, and fortify the heart. 
 
 Thus pale they meet ; their eyes with fury burn ; 190 
 IN'one greets, for none the greeting will return ; 
 But in dumb surliness each armed with care 
 His foe professed, as brother of the war ; 
 Then both, no moment lost, at once advance 
 Against each other, armed with sword and lance : i96 
 
 They lash, they foin, they pass, they strive to bore 
 Their corslets, and the thinnest parts explore. 
 Thus two long hours in equal arms they stood. 
 And wounded wound, till both are bathed in blood 
 And not a foot of ground had either got, 200 
 
 As if the world depended on the spot. 
 Fell Arcite like an angry tiger fared. 
 And like a lion Palamon appeared : 
 Qr, as two boars whom love to battle draws, 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 57 
 
 With rising bristles and with frothy jaws, 205 
 
 Their adverse breasts with tusks oblique they wound ; 
 
 With grunts and groans the forest rings around. 
 
 So fought the knights, and fighting must abide. 
 
 Till Fate an umpire sends their dilference to decide. 
 
 The power that ministers to God's decrees, 210 
 
 And executes on earth what Heaven foresees, 
 
 Called Providence, or Chance, or Fatal sway. 
 
 Comes with resistless force, and finds or makes her way. 
 
 Nor kings, nor nations, nor united power 
 
 One moment can retard the appointed hour ; 215 
 
 And some one day, some wondrous chance appears, 
 
 Which happened not in centuries of years : 
 
 For sure, whate'er we mortals hate or love 
 
 Or hope or fear depends on powers above : 
 
 They move our appetites to good or ill, 220 
 
 And by foresight necessitate the wilF. 
 
 In Theseus this appears, whose youthful Joy 
 
 Was beasts of chase in forests to destroy ; 
 
 This gentle knight, inspired by jolly May, 
 
 Forsook his easy couch at early day, 225 
 
 And to the wood and wilds pursued his way. 
 
 Beside him rode Hippolita the queen. 
 
 And Emily attired in lively green, 
 
 With horns and hounds and all the tuneful cry, 
 
 To hunt a royal hart within the covert nigh ; 230 
 
 And, as he followed Mars before, so now 
 
 He serves the goddess of the silver bow\ 
 
 The way that Theseus took was to the wood. 
 
 Where the two knights in cruel battle stood : 
 
 The laund' on which they fought, the appointed place 235 
 
 In which the uncoupled hounds began the chase. 
 
 Thither forth-right he rode to rouse the prey. 
 
 That shaded by the fern in harbour lay ; 
 
 And thence dislodged, was wont to leave the wood 
 
58 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 For open fields, and cross the crystal flood. 240 
 
 Approached, and looking underneath the sun, 
 
 He saw proud Arcite and fierce Palamon, 
 
 In mortal battle doubling blow on blow ; 
 
 Like lighting flamed their fauchions to and fro, 
 
 And shot a dreadful gleam ; so strong they strook, 245 
 
 There seemed less force required to fell an oak. 
 
 He gazed with wonder on their equal might, 
 
 Looked eager on, but knew not either knight. 
 
 Eesolved to learn, he spurred his fiery steed 
 
 With goring rowels to provoke his speed. 250 
 
 The minute ended that began the race, 
 
 So soon he was betwixt them on the place ; 
 
 And with his sword unsheathed, on pain of life 
 
 Commands both combatants to cease their strife ; 
 
 Then with imperious tone pursues his threat : 255 
 
 " What are you ? why in arms together met ? 
 
 How dares your pride presume against my laws. 
 
 As in a listed field to fight your cause, 
 
 Unasked the royal grant ; no marshal by. 
 
 As knightly rites require, nor judge to try ? " 260 
 
 Then Palamon, with scarce recovered breath. 
 
 Thus hasty spoke : " We both deserve the death. 
 
 And both would die ; for look the world around, 
 
 A pair so wretched is not to be found. 
 
 Our life's a load ; encumbered with the charge, 266 
 
 We long to set the imprisoned soul at large. 
 
 Now, as thou art a sovereign judge, decree 
 
 The rightful doom of death to him and me ; 
 
 Let neither find thy grace, for grace is cruelty. 
 
 Me first, kill me first, and cure my woe ; 270 
 
 Then sheath the sword of justice on my foe ; 
 
 Or kill him first, for when his name is heard, 
 
 He foremost will receive his due reward. 
 
 Arcite of Thebes is he, thy mortal foe, 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 59 
 
 On whom thy grace did liberty bestow ; 275 
 
 But first contracted, that, if ever found 
 
 By day or night upon the Athenian ground. 
 
 His head should pay the forfeit ; see returned 
 
 The perjured knight, his oath and honour scorned : 
 
 For this is he, who, with a borrowed name 280 
 
 And proferred service, to thy palace came, 
 
 Now called Philostratus ; retained by thee, 
 
 A traitor trusted, and in high degree. 
 
 Aspiring to the bed of beauteous Emily. 
 
 My part remains, from Thebes my birth I own, 235 
 
 And call myself the unhappy Palamon. 
 
 Think me not like that man ; since no disgrace 
 
 Can force me to renounce the honour of my race. 
 
 Know me for what I am : I broke thy chain, 
 
 Nor promised I thy prisoner to remain : 290 
 
 The love of liberty with life is given. 
 
 And life itself the inferior gift of Heaven. 
 
 Thus without crime I fled ; but farther know, 
 
 I, with this Arcifce, am thy mortal foe : 
 
 Then give me death, since I thy life pursue ; 295 
 
 For safeguard of thyself, death is my due. 
 
 More wouldst thou know ? I love bright Emily, 
 
 And for her sake and in her sight will die : 
 
 But kill my rival too, for he no less 
 
 Deserves ; and I thy righteous doom will bless, 300 
 
 Assured that what I lose he never shall possess." 
 
 To this replied the stern Athenian Prince, 
 
 And sourly smiled : " In owning your offence 
 
 You judge your self, and I but keep record 
 
 In place of law, while you pronounce the word. 305 
 
 Take your desert, the death you have decreed ; 
 
 I seal your doom, and ratify the deed : 
 
 By Mars, the patron of my arms, you die." 
 
 He said ; dumb sorrow seized the standers-by. 
 
60 PALAMON AND AUCITE 
 
 The Queen, above the rest, by nature good, sio 
 
 (The pattern formed of perfect womanhood) 
 
 For tender pity wept : when she began. 
 
 Through the bright quire the infectious virtue ran. 
 
 All dropt their tears, even the contended maid ; 
 
 And thus among themselves they softly said : sis 
 
 " What eyes can suffer this unworthy sight ! 
 
 Two youths of royal blood, renowned in fight, 
 
 The mastership of Heaven in face and mind. 
 
 And lovers, far beyond their faithless kind : 
 
 See their wide streaming wounds ; they neither came 320 
 
 From pride of empire nor desire of fame : 
 
 Kings fight for kingdoms, madmen for applause ; 
 
 But love for love alone, that crowns the lover's cause." 
 
 This thought, which ever bribes the beauteous kind. 
 
 Such pity wrought in every lady's mind, 325 
 
 They left their steeds, and prostrate on the place. 
 
 From the fierce King implored the offender's grace. 
 
 He paused a while, stood silent in his mood ; 
 (For yet his rage was boiling in his blood :) 
 But soon his tender mind the impression felt. 330 
 
 (As softest metals are not slow to melt 
 And pity soonest runs in gentle minds ;) 
 Then reasons with himself ; and first he finds 
 His passion cast a mist before his sense, 
 And either made or magnified the offence. 335 
 
 Offence? Of what? To whom? Who judged the cause? 
 The prisoner freed himself by Nature's laws ; 
 Born free, he sought his righf ; the man he freed 
 Was perjured, but his love excused the deed : 
 Thus pondering, he looked under with his eyes, 340 
 
 iVnd saw the women's tears, and heard their cries, 
 Which moved compassion more ; he shook his head, 
 And softly sighing to himself he said : 
 
 " Curse on the unpardoning prince", whom tears can draw 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 61 
 
 To no remorse, who rules by lion's law ; 345 
 
 And deaf to prayers, by no submission bowed, 
 
 Eends all alike, the penitent and proud ! " 
 
 At this with look serene he raised his head ; 
 
 Eeason resumed her place, and passion fled : 
 
 Then thus aloud he spoke : — " The power of Love, 350 
 
 In earth, and seas, and air, and heaven above, 
 
 Eules, unresisted, with an awful nod. 
 
 By daily miracles declared a god ; 
 
 He blinds the wise, gives eye-sight to the blind ; 
 
 And moulds and stamps anew the lover's mind. 355 
 
 Behold that Arcite, and this Palamon, 
 
 Freed from my fetters, and in safety gone. 
 
 What hindered either in their native soil 
 
 At ease to reap the harvest of their toil ? 
 
 But Love, their lord, did otherwise ordain, mo 
 
 And brought them, in their own despite" again, 
 
 To suffer death deserved ; for well they know 
 
 'Tis in my power, and I their deadly foe. 
 
 The proverb holds, that to be wise and love. 
 
 Is hardly granted to the gods above. 365 
 
 See how the madmen bleed ! behold the gains 
 
 With which their master. Love, rewards their pains ! 
 
 For seven long years, on duty every day, 
 
 Lo ! their obedience, and their monarch's pay ! 
 
 Yet, as in duty bound, they serve him on ; 370 
 
 And ask the fools, they think it wisely done ; 
 
 Kor ease nor wealth nor life it self regard. 
 
 For 'tis their maxim, love is love's reward. 
 
 This is not all ; the fair, for whom they strove, 
 
 ^or knew before, nor could suspect their love, 375 
 
 Nor thought, when she beheld the fight from far, 
 
 Her beauty was the occasion of the war. 
 
 But sure a general doom on man is past", 
 
 And all are fools and lovers, first or last : 
 
f,2 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 This both by others and my self I know, sso 
 
 For 1 have served their sovereign long ago ; 
 
 Oft have been caught within the winding train 
 
 Of female snares, and felt the lover's pain. 
 
 And learned how far the god can human hearts constrain. 
 
 To this remembrance, and the prayers of those 385 
 
 AVho for the offending warriors interpose, 
 
 I give their forfeit lives, on this accord. 
 
 To do me homage as their sovereign lord ; 
 
 And as my vassals, to their utmost might. 
 
 Assist my person and assert my right." 390 
 
 This freely sworn, the knights their grace obtained ; 
 
 Then thus the King his secret thought explained : 
 
 " If wealth or honour or a royal race. 
 
 Or each or all, may win a lady's grace. 
 
 Then either of you knights may well deserve 395 
 
 A princess born ; and such is she you serve : 
 
 For Emily is sister to the crown. 
 
 And but too well to both her beauty known : 
 
 But should you combat till you both were dead. 
 
 Two lovers cannot share a single bed. 400 
 
 As, therefore, both are equal in degree, 
 
 The lot of both be left to destiny. 
 
 'Now hear the award, and happy may it prove 
 
 To her, and him who best deserves her love. 
 
 Depart frqm hence in peace, and free as air, 405 
 
 Search the wide world, and where you please repair ; 
 
 But on the day when this returning sun 
 
 To the same point through every sign has run. 
 
 Then each of you his hundred knights shall bring 
 
 In royal lists, to fight before the king ; 410 
 
 And then the knight, whom Fate or happy Chance 
 
 Shall with his friends to victory advance, 
 
 And grace his arms so far in equal fight. 
 
 From out the bars to force his opposite, 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 63 
 
 Or kill, or make him recreant on the plain, 415 
 
 The prize of valour and of love shall gain ; 
 
 The vanquished party shall their claim release. 
 
 And the long jars conclude in lasting peace. 
 
 The charge be mine to adorn the chosen ground. 
 
 The theatre of war, for champions so renowned ; 420 
 
 And take the patron's place of either knight, 
 
 AVith eyes impartial to behold a fight ; 
 
 And Heaven of me so judge as I shall judge aright. 
 
 If both are satisfied with this accord, 
 
 Swear by the laws of knighthood on my sword." 425 
 
 Who now but Palamon exults with joy? 
 And ravished Arcite seems to touch the sky. 
 The whole assembled troop was pleased so well, 
 Extolled the award, and on their knees they fell 
 To bless the gracious King. The knights, with leave 430 
 Departing from the place, his last commands receive ; 
 On Emily with equal ardour look. 
 And from her eyes their inspiration took : 
 From thence to Thebes' old walls pursue their way, 
 Each to provide his champions for the day. 435 
 
 It might be deemed, on our historian's part, 
 Or too much negligence or want of art. 
 If he forgot the vast magnificence 
 Of royal Theseus, and his large expense. 
 He first enclosed for lists a level ground, . 440 
 
 The whole circumference a mile around ; 
 The form was circular ; and all without 
 A trench was sunk, to moat the place about. 
 Within an amphitheatre appeared, 
 Eaised in degrees, to sixty paces reared : 
 That when a man was placed in one degree. 
 Height was allowed for him above to see. 
 
 Eastward was built a gate of marble white ; 
 The like adorned the western opposite. 
 
 445 
 
e4: PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 A nobler object than this fabric was 450 
 
 Eome never saw, nor of so vast a space : 
 
 For, rich with spoils of many a conquered land, 
 
 All arts and artists Theseus could command, 
 
 AVho sold for hire, or wrought for better fame ; 
 
 The master-painters and the carvers came. 455 
 
 So rose within the compass of the year 
 
 xAn age's work, a glorious theatre. 
 
 Then o'er its eastern gate was raised above 
 
 A temple, sacred to the Queen of Love ; 
 
 An altar stood below ; on either hand 46o 
 
 A priest with roses crowned, who held a myrtle wand. 
 
 The dome of Mars was on the gate op230sed, 
 And on the north a turret was enclosed 
 Within the wall of alabaster white 
 
 And crimson coral, for the Queen of Kight, 455 
 
 Who takes in sylvan sports her chaste delight. 
 
 Within those oratories might you see 
 Eich carvings, portraitures, and imagery ; 
 Where every figure to the life expressed 
 The godhead's power to whom it was addressed. 470 
 
 In Venus' temple on the sides were seen 
 The broken slumbers of enamoured men ; 
 Prayers that even spoke, and pity seemed to call, 
 And issuing sighs that smoked along the wall ; 
 Complaints and hot desires, the lover's hell, 475 
 
 And scalding tears that wore a channel where they fell ; 
 And all around were nuptial bonds, the ties 
 Of love's assurance, and a train of lies. 
 That, made in lust, conclude in perjuries ; 
 Beauty, and Youth, and Wealth, and Luxury, 4so 
 
 And sprightly Hope and short-enduring Joy, 
 And Sorceries, to raise the infernal powers, 
 And Sigils framed in planetary hours ; 
 Expense, and After-thought, and idle Care, 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 65 
 
 And Doubts of motley hue, and dark Despair ; 485 
 
 Suspicions and fantastical Surmise, 
 
 And Jealousy suffused, with jaundice in her eyes, 
 
 Discolouring all she viewed, in tawny dressed, 
 
 Down-looked, and with a cuckow on her fist. 
 
 Opposed to her, on the other side advance 490 
 
 The costly feast, the carol, and the dance, 
 
 Minstrels and music, poetry and play, 
 
 And balls by night, and turnaments by day. 
 
 All these were painted on the wall, and more ; 
 
 With acts and monuments of times before ; 495 
 
 And others added by prophetic doom. 
 
 And lovers yet unborn, and loves to come : 
 
 For there the Idalian mount", and Citheron'', 
 
 The court of Venus, was in colours drawn ; 
 
 Before the palace gate, in careless dress 500 
 
 And loose array, sat portress Idleness ; 
 
 There by the fount Narcissus'' pined alone ; 
 
 There Samson was ; with wiser Solomon, 
 
 And all the mighty names by love undone. 
 
 Medea's'' charms were there ; Circean feasts", 505 
 
 With bowls that turned enamoured youths to beasts. 
 
 Here might be seen, that beauty, wealth, and wit. 
 
 And prowess to the power of love submit ; 
 
 The spreading snare for all mankind is laid 
 
 And lovers all betray, and are betrayed. 510 
 
 The Goddess self some noble hand had wrought ; 
 
 Smiling she seemed, and full of pleasing thought ; 
 
 From ocean as she first began to rise, 
 
 And smoothed the ruffled seas, and cleared the skies, 
 
 She trod the brine, all bare below the breast, 615 
 
 And the green waves but ill-concealed the rest : 
 
 A lute she held ; and on her head was seen 
 
 A wreath of roses red and myrtles green ; 
 
 Her turtles fanned the buxom air above ; 
 
QQ PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 And by his mother stood an infant Love, 620 
 
 With wings unfledged ; his eyes were banded o'er, 
 
 His hands a bow, his back a quiver bore, 
 
 Supplied with arrows bright and keen, a deadly store. 
 
 But in the dome of mighty Mars the red 
 With different figures all the sides were spread ; 625 
 
 This temple, less in form, with equal grace, 
 Was imitative of the first in Thrace ; 
 For that cold region was the loved abode 
 And sovereign mansion of the warrior god. 
 The landscape was a forest wide and bare, 530 
 
 Where neither beast nor human kind repair. 
 The fowl that scent afar the borders fly. 
 And shun the bitter blast, and wheel about the sky. 
 A cake of scurf lies baking on the ground. 
 And prickly stubs, instead of trees, are found ; 535 
 
 Or woods with knots and knares deformed and old. 
 Headless the most, and hideous to behold ; 
 A rattling tempest through the branches went. 
 That stripped them bare, and one sole way they bent. 
 Heaven froze above severe, the clouds congeal, 510 
 
 And through the crystal vault appeared the standing hail. 
 Such was the face without : a mountain stood 
 Threatening from high, and overlooked the wood : 
 Beneath the lowering brow, and on a bent. 
 The temple stood of Mars armipotent ; 545 
 
 The frame of burnished steel, that cast a glare 
 From far, and seemed to thaw the freezing air. 
 A straight long entry to the temple led, 
 Blind with high walls, and horror over head ; 
 Thence issued such a blast, and hollow roar, 550 
 
 As threatened from the hinge to heave the door ; 
 In through that door a northern light there shone ; 
 'Twas all it had, for windows there were none. 
 The gate was adamant ; eternal frame. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 67 
 
 Which, hewed by Mars himself, from Indian quarries came, 
 
 The labour of a God ; and all along 556 
 
 Tough iron plates were clenched to make it strong. 
 
 A tun about was every pillar there ; 
 
 A polished mirror shone not half so clear. 
 
 There saw I how the secret felon wrought, - seo 
 
 And treason labouring in the traitor's thought. 
 
 And midwife Time the ripened plot to murder brought. 
 
 There the red Anger dared the pallid Fear ; 
 
 Next stood Hypocrisy, with holy leer. 
 
 Soft, smiling, and demurely looking down, 666 
 
 But hid the dagger underneath the gown ; 
 
 The assassinating wife, the household fiend ; 
 
 And far the blackest there, the traitor-friend. 
 
 On the other side there stood Destruction bare. 
 
 Unpunished Eapine, and a waste of war ; 570 
 
 Contest with sharpened knives in cloisters drawn, 
 
 And all with blood bespread the holy lawn. 
 
 Loud menaces were heard, and foul disgrace. 
 
 And bawling infamy, in language base ; 
 
 Till sense was lost in sound, and silence fled the place. 575 
 
 The slayer of himself yet saw I there. 
 
 The gore congealed was clotted in his hair ; 
 
 With eyes half closed and gaping mouth he lay. 
 
 And grim as when he breathed his sullen soul away. 
 
 In midst of all the dome. Misfortune sate, sso 
 
 And gloomy Discontent, and fell Debate, 
 
 And Madness laughing in his ireful mood ; 
 
 And armed Complaint on theft ; and cries of blood. 
 
 There was the murdered corps, in covert laid. 
 
 And violent death in thousand shapes displayed : ess 
 
 The city to the soldier's rage resigned ; 
 
 Successless wars, and poverty behind : 
 
 Ships burnt in fight, or forced on rocky shores, 
 
 And the rash hunter strangled by the boars : 
 
68 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 The new-born babe by nurses overlaid ; 69o 
 
 And the cook caught within the raging fire he made. 
 All ills of Mars his nature, flame and steel ; 
 The gasping charioteer beneath the wheel 
 Of his own car ; the ruined house that falls 
 And intercepts her lord betwixt the walls : 695 
 
 The whole division that to Mars pertains, 
 All trades of death that deal in steel for gains 
 Were there : the butcher, armourer, and smith, 
 AYho forges sharpened fauchions, or the scythe. 
 The scarlet conquest on a tower was placed, eoo 
 
 With shouts and soldiers' acclamations graced : 
 A pointed sword hung threatening o'er his head, 
 Sustained but by a slender twine of thread. 
 There saw I Mars his ides", the Capitol, 
 The seer in vain foretelling Caesar's fall ; 605 
 
 The last Triumvirs, and the wars they move, 
 And Antony'', who lost the world for love. 
 These, and a thousand more, the fane adorn ; 
 Their fates were painted ere the men were born. 
 All copied from the heavens, and ruling force eio 
 
 Of the red star, in his revolving course. 
 The form of Mars high on a chariot stood. 
 All sheathed in arms, and gruffly looked the god ; 
 Two geomantic figures'* were displayed 
 Above his head, a warrior and a maid, 615 
 
 One when direct, and one when retrograde. 
 Tired with deformities of death, I haste 
 To the third temple of Diana chaste. 
 A sylvan scene with various greens was drawn. 
 Shades on the sides, and on the midst a lawn ; 620 
 
 The silver Cynthia, with her nymphs around, 
 Pursued the flying deer, the woods with horns resound : 
 Calisto" there stood manifest of shame. 
 And, turned a bear, the northern star became : 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 69 
 
 Her son was next, and, by peculiar grace, 625 
 
 In the cold circle held the second place ; 
 
 The stag Actgeon in the stream had spied 
 
 The naked huntress, and for seeing died ; 
 
 His hounds, unknowing of his change, pursue 
 
 The chase, and their mistaken master slew. cso 
 
 Peneian Daphne too'' was there to see, 
 
 Apollo's love before, and now his tree. 
 
 The adjoining fane the assembled Greeks expressed, 
 
 And hunting of the Calydonian beast. 
 
 OEnides'" valour, and his envied prize ; ess 
 
 The fatal power of Atalanta's eyes ; 
 
 Diana's vengeance on the victor shown. 
 
 The murderess mother, and consuming son ; 
 
 The Volscian queen'' extended on the plain, 
 
 The treason punished, and the traitor slain. 64o 
 
 The rest were various huntings, well designed, 
 
 And savage beasts destroyed, of every kind. 
 
 The graceful goddess was arrayed in green ; 
 
 About her feet were little beagles seen. 
 
 That watched with upward eyes the motions of their Queen. 
 
 Her legs were buskined, and the left before, 646 
 
 In act to shoot ; a silver boAV she bore. 
 
 And at her back a painted quiver wore. 
 
 She trod a wexing moon, that soon would wane. 
 
 And, drinking borrowed light, be filled again ; 650 
 
 "With downcast eyes, as seeming to survey 
 
 The dark dominions, her alternate sway. 
 
 Before her stood a woman in her throes. 
 
 And called Lucina's aid, her burden to disclose. 
 
 All these the painter drew with such command, 655 
 
 That ]N"ature snatched the pencil from his hand. 
 
 Ashamed and angry that his art could feign, 
 
 And mend the tortures of a mother's pain. 
 
 Theseus beheld the fanes of every god. 
 
70 PALAMON AXD ARCITE 
 
 And thought his mighty cost was well bestowed. 
 So princes now their poets should regard' ; 
 But few can write, and fewer can reward. 
 
 The theatre thus raised, the lists enclosed, 
 And all with vast magnificence disposed, 
 We leave the monarch pleased, and haste to bring 
 The knights to combat, and their arms to sing. 
 
BOOK III 
 
 The (lay approached when Fortune should decide 
 
 The important enterprise, and give the bride ; 
 
 For now the rivals round the world had sought, 
 
 And each his number, well appointed, brought. 
 
 The nations far and near contend in choice, 
 
 And send the flower of war by public voice ; 
 
 That after or before were never known 
 
 Such chiefs, as each an' army seemed alone : 
 
 Beside the champions, all of high degree. 
 
 Who knighthood loved, and deeds of chivalry, i 
 
 Thronged to the lists, and envied to behold 
 
 The names of others, not their own, enrolled. 
 
 Xor seems it strange ; for every noble knight 
 
 Who loves the fair, and is endued with might, 
 
 In such a quarrel would be proud to fight. i 
 
 There breathes not scarce a man on British ground 
 
 (An isle for love and arms of old renowned) 
 
 But would have sold his life to purchase fame, 
 
 To Palamon or Arcite sent his name ; 
 
 And had the land selected of the best, 2 
 
 Half had come hence, and let the world provide the rest. 
 
 A hundred knights with Palamon there came, 
 
 Approved in fight, and men of mighty name ; 
 
 Their arms were several, as their nations were, 
 
 But furnished all alike with sword and spear. 2 
 
 Some wore coat armour, imitating scale, 
 
 And next their skins were stubborn shirts of mail ; 
 
 Some wore a breastplate and a light juppon, 
 
 Their horses clothed with rich caparison ; 
 
 71 
 
72 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 Some for defence would leathern bucklers use so 
 
 Of folded hides, and others shields of Pruce\ 
 
 One hung a pole-axe at his saddle-bow, 
 
 And one a heavy mace to stun the foe ; 
 
 One for his legs and knees provided well, 
 
 With jambeux armed, and double plates of steel ; 35 
 
 This on his helmet wore a lady's glove. 
 
 And that a sleeve embroidered by his love. 
 
 With Palamon above the rest in place, 
 Lycurgus came, the surly king of Thrace ; 
 Black was his beard, and manly was his face 40 
 
 The balls of his broad eyes rolled in his head. 
 And glared betwixt a yellow and a red ; 
 He looked a lion with a gloomy stare, 
 And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair ; 
 Big-boned and large of limbs, with sinews strong, 45 
 
 Broad-shouldered, and his arms were round and long. 
 Four milk-white bulls (the Thracian use of old) 
 AVere yoked to draw his car of burnished gold. 
 Upright he stood, and bore aloft his shield. 
 Conspicuous from afar, and overlooked the field. 50 
 
 His surcoat was a bear-skin on his back ; 
 His hair hung long behind, and glossy raven-black. 
 His ample forehead bore a coronet, 
 AVith sparkling diamonds and with rubies set. 
 Ten brace, and more, of greyhounds, snowy fair, 55 
 
 And tall as stags, ran loose, and coursed around his chair, 
 A match for pards in flight, in grappling for the bear ; 
 AVith golden muzzles all their mouths were bound. 
 And collars of the same their necks surround. 
 Thus through the fields Lycurgus took his way ; go 
 
 His hundred knights attend in pomp and proud array. 
 
 To march this monarch, with strong Arcite came 
 Emetrius, king of Inde, a mighty name. 
 On a bay courser, goodly to behold, 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 73 
 
 The trappings of liis horse embossed with barbarous gold. 
 
 'Not Mars bestrode a steed with greater grace ; ec 
 
 His snrcoat o'er his arms was cloth of Thrace, 
 
 Adorned with pearls, all orient, round, and great ; 
 
 His saddle was of gold, with emeralds set ; 
 
 His shoulders large a mantle did attire, 70 
 
 With rubies thick, and sparkling as the fire ; 
 
 His amber-coloured locks in ringlets run, 
 
 With graceful negligence, and shone against the sun. 
 
 His nose was aquiline, his eyes were blue. 
 
 Ruddy his lips, and fresh and fair his hue ; 75 
 
 Some sprinkled freckles on his face were seen. 
 
 Whose dusk set off the whiteness of the skin. 
 
 His awful presence did the crowd surprise, 
 
 Kor durst the rash spectator meet his eyes ; 
 
 Eyes that confessed him born for kingly sway, so 
 
 So fierce, they flashed intolerable day. 
 
 His age in nature's youthful prime appeared. 
 
 And just began to bloom his yellow beard. 
 
 Whene'er he spoke, his voice was heard around, 
 
 Loud as a trumpet, with a silver sound ; ss 
 
 A laurel wreathed his temples, fresh, and green, 
 
 And myrtle sprigs, the marks of love, were mixed between. 
 
 Upon his fist he bore, for his delight. 
 
 An eagle well reclaimed, and lily white. 
 
 His hundred knights attend him to the war, 90 
 
 All armed for battle ; save their heads were bare. 
 Words and devices blazed on every shield. 
 And pleasing was the terror of the field. 
 For kings, and dukes, and barons you might see, 
 Like sparkling stars, though different in degree, ss 
 
 All for the increase of arms, and love of chivalry. 
 Before the king tame leopards led the way. 
 And troops of lions innocently play. 
 So Bacchus'' through the conquered Indies rode, 
 
Y4 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 And beasts in gambols frisked before their honest god. loo 
 
 In this array the war of either side 
 Through Athens passed with military pride. 
 At prime, they entered on the Sunday morn ; 
 Eich tapestry spread the streets, and flowers the posts adorn. 
 The town was all a jubilee of feasts ; 105 
 
 So Theseus willed in honour of his guests ; 
 Himself with open arms the kings embraced, 
 Then all the rest in their degrees were graced. 
 No harbinger was needful for the night, 
 For every house was proud to lodge a knight. no 
 
 I pass the royal treat, nor must relate 
 The gifts bestowed, nor how the champions sate ; 
 AVho first, who last, or how the knights addressed 
 Their vows, or who was fairest at the feast ; 
 Whose voice, whose graceful dance did most surprise, 115 
 Soft amorous sighs, and silent love of eyes. 
 The rivals call my Muse another way. 
 To sing their vigils for the ensuing day. 
 'Twas ebbing darkness, past the noon of night : 
 And Phosphor", on the confines of the light, 120 
 
 Promised the sun ; ere day began to spring. 
 The tuneful lark already stretched her wing. 
 And flickering on her nest, made short essays to sing. 
 
 When wakeful Palamon, preventing day. 
 Took to the royal lists his early way, 125 
 
 To Venus at her fane, in her own house, to pray. 
 There, falling on his knees before her shrine. 
 He thus implored with prayers her power divine : 
 " Creator Venus, genial power of love. 
 The bliss of men below, and gods above ! vm 
 
 Beneath the sliding sun thou runst thy race, 
 Dost fairest shine, and best become thy place. 
 For thee the winds their eastern blasts forbear. 
 Thy month reveals the spring, and opens all the year. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 75 
 
 Thee, Goddess, thee the storms of winter fly ; 135 
 
 Earth smiles with flowers renewing, laughs the sky, 
 
 And birds to lays of love their tuneful notes apply. 
 
 For thee the lion loathes the taste of blood. 
 
 And roaring hunts his female through the wood ; 
 
 For thee the bulls rebellow through the groves, 110 
 
 And tempt the stream, and snuif their absent loves. 
 
 'Tis thine, whate'er is pleasant, good, or fair ; 
 
 All nature is thy province, life thy care ; 
 
 Thou madest the world, and dost the world repair. 
 
 Thou gladder of the mount of Cytheron, 145 
 
 Increase of Jove, companion of the Sun, 
 
 If e'er Adonis'' touched thy tender heart. 
 
 Have pity. Goddess, for thou knowest the smart ! 
 
 Alas ! I have not words to tell my grief ; 
 
 To vent my sorrow would be some relief ; 150 
 
 Light sufferings give us leisure to complain ; 
 
 We groan, but cannot speak, in greater pain. 
 
 Goddess, tell thyself what I would say ! 
 
 Thou knowest it, and I feel too much to pray. 
 
 So grant my suit, as I enforce my might, 155 
 
 In love to be thy champion and thy knight, 
 
 A servant to thy sex, a slave to thee, 
 
 A foe professed to barren chastity : 
 
 K"or ask I fame or honour of the field, 
 
 N"or choose I more to vanquish than to yield : leo 
 
 In my divine Emilia make me blest. 
 
 Let Fate or partial Chance dispose the rest : 
 
 Find thou the manner, and the means prepare ; 
 
 Possession, more than conquest, is my care. 
 
 Mars is the warrior's god ; in him it lies i65 
 
 On whom he favours to confer the prize ; 
 
 With smiling aspect you serenely move 
 
 In your fifth orb'', and rule the realm of love. 
 
 The Fates' but only spin the coarser clue, 
 
76 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 The finest of the wool is left for you : 
 
 Spare me but one small portion of the twine% 
 
 And let the Sisters cut below your line : 
 
 The rest among the rubbish may they sweep, 
 
 Or add it to the yarn of some old miser's heap. 
 
 But if you this ambitious prayer deny, 
 
 (A wish, I grant, beyond mortality,) 
 
 Then let me sink beneath proud Arcite's arms, 
 
 And, I once dead, let him possess her charms." 
 
 Thus ended he ; then, with observance due. 
 The sacred incense on her altar threw : 
 The curling smoke mounts heavy from the fires ; 
 At length it catches flame, and in a blaze expires ; 
 At once the gracious Goddess gave the sign. 
 Her statue shook, and trembled all the shrine : 
 Pleased Palamon the tardy omen took ; 
 For since the flames pursued the trailing smoke. 
 He knew his boon was granted, but the day 
 To distance driven, and joy adjourned with long delay. 
 
 Now morn with rosy light had streaked the sky. 
 Up rose the sun, and up rose Emily ; 
 Addressed her early steps to Cynthia's fane, 
 In state attended by her maiden train, 
 Who bore the vests that holy rites require. 
 Incense, and odorous gums, and covered fire. 
 The plenteous horns with pleasant mead they crown 
 Nor wanted aught besides in honour of the Moon. 
 Now, while the temple smoked with hallowed steam, 
 They wash the virgin in a living stream ; 
 The secret ceremonies I conceal. 
 Uncouth'*, perhaps unlawful to reveal : 
 But such they were as pagan use required. 
 Performed by women when the men retired, 
 "Whose eyes profane their chaste mysterious rites 
 Might turn to scandal or obscene delights. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE Y7 
 
 Well-meaners think no harm ; but for the rest, 205 
 
 Things sacred tliey pervert, and silence is the best. 
 
 Her shining hair, uncombed, was loosely spread, 
 
 A crown of mastless oak adorned her head : 
 
 When to the shrine approached, the spotless maid 
 
 Had kindling fires on either altar laid ; 210 
 
 (The rites were such as were observed of old, 
 
 By Statins'' in his Theban story told.) 
 
 Then kneeling with her hands across her breast, 
 
 Thus loAvly she preferred her chaste request. 
 
 " Goddess, haunter of the woodland green, 215 
 
 To whom both heaven and earth and seas are seen ; 
 Queen of the nether skies, where half the year 
 Thy silver beams descend, and light the gloomy sphere ; 
 Goddess of maids, and conscious of our hearts, 
 So keep me from the vengeance of thy darts, 220 
 
 (Which Niobe's" devoted issue felt. 
 When hissing through the skies the feathered deaths were 
 
 dealt,) 
 As I desire to live a virgin life, 
 Xor know the name of mother or of wife. 
 Thy votress from my tender years I am, 225 
 
 And love, like thee, the woods and sylvan game. 
 Like death, thou knowest, I loathe the nuptial state. 
 And man, the tyrant of our sex, I hate, 
 A lowly servanf", but a lofty mate ; 
 
 Where love is duty on the female side, 230 
 
 On theirs mere sensual gust, and sought with surly pride. 
 Now by thy triple shaped as thou art seen 
 In heaven, earth, hell, and everywhere a queen, 
 Grant this my first desire ; let discord cease. 
 And make betwixt the rivals lasting peace : 235 
 
 Quench their hot fire, or far from me remove 
 The flame, and turn it on some other love ; 
 Or if my frowning stars have so decreed. 
 
78 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 That one must be rejected, one succeed, 
 
 Make him my lord, within whose faithful breast 24o 
 
 Is fixed my image, and who loves me best. 
 
 But oh ! even that avert ! I choose it not, 
 
 But take it as the least unhappy lot. 
 
 A maid I am, and of thy virgin train ; 
 
 Oh, let me still that spotless name retain ! 245 
 
 Frequent the forests, thy chaste will obey, 
 
 And only make the beasts of chace my prey ! " 
 
 The flames ascend on either altar clear. 
 While thus the blameless maid addressed her prayer. 
 "When lo ! the burning fire that shone so bright 250 
 
 Flew off, all sudden, with extinguished light. 
 And left one altar dark, a little space. 
 Which turned self -kindled, and renewed the blaze ; 
 That other victor-flame a moment stood, 
 Then fell, and lifeless left the extinguished wood ; 255 
 
 For ever lost, the irrevocable light 
 Forsook the blackening coals, and sunk to night : 
 At either end it whistled as it flew, 
 And as the brands were green, so dropped the dew, 
 Infected as it fell with sweat of sanguine hue. seo 
 
 The maid from that ill omen turned her eyes. 
 And with loud shrieks and clamours rent the skies ; 
 Xor knew what signified the boding sign. 
 But found the powers displeased, and feared the wrath 
 divine. 
 
 Then shook the sacred shrine, and sudden light sgs 
 
 Sprung through the vaulted roof, and made the temple 
 
 bright. 
 The Power, behold ! the Power in glory shone. 
 By her bent bow and her keen arrows known ; 
 The rest, a huntress issuing from the wood, 
 Eeclining on her cornel spear she stood. 270 
 
 Then gracious thus began : *^ Dismiss thy fear, 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE Y9 
 
 And heaven's unchanged decrees attentive hear : 
 
 More powerful gods have torn thee from my side, 
 
 Unwilling to resign, and doomed a bride ; 
 
 The two contending kniglits are weighed above ; 275 
 
 One Mars protects, and one the Queen of Love : 
 
 But w^hich the man is in the Thunderer's breast ; 
 
 This he pronounced, ' 'Tis he who loves thee best/ 
 
 The fire that, once extinct, revived again 
 
 Foreshows the love allotted to remain. 280 
 
 Farewell ! " she said, and vanished from the place ; 
 
 The sheaf of arrows shook, and rattled in the case. 
 
 Aghast at this, the royal virgin stood, 
 
 Disclaimed, and now no more a sister of the wood : 
 
 But to the parting Goddess thus she prayed : 285 
 
 " Propitious still, be present to my aid, 
 
 Nor quite abandon your once favored maid." 
 
 Then sighing she returned ; but smiled betwixt, 
 
 With hopes, and fears, and joys with sorrow mixt. 
 
 The next returning planetary hour" 290 
 
 Of Mars, who shared the heptarchy" of power, 
 His steps bold Arcite to the temple bent, 
 To adorn with pagan rites the power armipotent : 
 Then prostrate, low before his altar lay. 
 And raised his manly voice, and thus began to pray : 295 
 " Strong God of Arms, whose iron sceptre sways 
 The freezing North, and Hyperborean seas". 
 And Scythian colds, and Thracia's wintry coast, 
 Where stand thy steeds, and thou art honoured most : 
 There most, but everywhere thy power is known, soo 
 
 The fortune of the fight is all thy own : 
 Terror is thine, and wild amazement, flung 
 From out thy chariot, withers even the strong ; 
 And disarray and shameful rout ensue. 
 And force is added to the fainting crew. 305 
 
 Acknowledged as thou art, accept my prayer ! 
 
80 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 If auglit I have achieved deserve thy care. 
 
 If to my utmost i30wer with sword and shield 
 
 I dared the death, unknowing how to yield. 
 
 And falling in my rank, still kept the field ; sio 
 
 Then let my arms prevail, by thee sustained, 
 
 That Emily by conquest may be gained. 
 
 Have pity on my pains ; nor those unknown 
 
 To Mars, which, when a lover, were his own. 
 
 Venus, the public care of all above, 315 
 
 Thy stubborn heart has softened into love : 
 
 Now, by her blandishments and powerful charms, 
 
 When yielded she lay curling in thy arms, 
 
 Even by thy shame, if shame it may be called. 
 
 When Vulcan'' had thee in his net enthralled ; 320 
 
 envied ignominy, sweet disgrace, 
 
 When every god that saw thee wished thy place ! 
 
 By those dear pleasures, aid my arms in fight. 
 
 And make me conquer in my patron's right : 
 
 For I am young, a novice in the trade, 325 
 
 The fool of love, unpractised to persuade. 
 
 And want the soothing arts that catch the fair. 
 
 But, caught my self, lie struggling in the snare ; 
 
 And she I love or laughs at all my pain 
 
 Or knows her worth too well, and pays me with disdain, sso 
 
 Eor sure I am, unless I win in arms. 
 
 To stand excluded from Emilia's charms : 
 
 Xor can my strength avail, unless by thee 
 
 Endued with force I gain the victory ; 
 
 Then for the fire which warmed thy generous heart, 335 
 
 Pity thy subject's pains and equal smart. 
 
 So be the morrow's sweat and labour mine, 
 
 The palm and honour of the conquest thine : 
 
 Then shall the war, and stern debate, and strife 
 
 Immortal be the business of my life ; 340 
 
 And in thy fane, the dusty spoils among, 
 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 81 
 
 High on the burnished roof, my banner shall be hung, 
 
 Eanked with my champion's bucklers ; and below, 
 
 With arms reversed, the atchievements'' of my foe ; 
 
 And while these limbs the vital spirit feeds, 345 
 
 While day to night and night to day succeeds, 
 
 Thy smoking altar shall be fat with food 
 
 Of incense and the grateful steam of blood ; 
 
 Burnt-offerings morn and evening shall be thine. 
 
 And fires eternal in thy temple shine. 350 
 
 The bush of yellow beard, this length of hair. 
 
 Which from my birth inviolate I bear. 
 
 Guiltless of steel, and from the razor free, 
 
 Shall fall a plenteous crop, reserved for thee. 
 
 So may my arms with victory be blest, 355 
 
 I ask no more ; let Fate dispose the rest." 
 
 The champion ceased ; there followed in the close 
 A hollow groan ; a murmuring wind arose ; 
 The rings of iron, that on the doors were hung. 
 Sent out a jarring sound, and harshly rung : seo 
 
 The bolted gates flew open at the blast. 
 The storm rushed in, and Arcite stood aghast : 
 The flames were blown aside, yet shone they bright. 
 Fanned by the wind, and gave a ruffled light. 
 
 Then from the ground a scent began to rise, 365 
 
 Sweet smelling as accepted sacrifice : 
 This omen pleased, and as the fiames aspire, 
 With odorous incense Arcite heaps the fire : 
 Nor wanted hymns to Mars or heathen charms : 
 At length the nodding statue clashed his arms, 370 
 
 And with a sullen sound and feeble cry. 
 Half sunk and half pronounced the word of Victory. 
 For this, with soul devout, he thanked the God, 
 And, of success secure, returned to his abode. 
 
 These vows, thus granted, raised a strife above 375 
 
 Betwixt the God of War and Queen of Love. 
 
82 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 She, granting first, had right of time to plead ; 
 
 But he had granted too, nor would recede. 
 
 Jove was for Venus, but he feared his wife, 
 
 And seemed unwilling to decide the strife ; 38o 
 
 Till Saturn from his leaden throne arose. 
 
 And found a way the difference to compose : 
 
 Though sparing of his grace, to mischief bent, 
 
 He seldom does a good Avith good intent. 
 
 Wayward, but wise ; by long experience taught, sss 
 
 To please both parties, for ill ends, he sought : 
 
 For this advantage age from youth has won, 
 
 As not to be outridden, though outrun\ 
 
 By fortune he was now to Venus trined'', 
 
 And with stern Mars in Capricorn'' was joined : 390 
 
 Of him disposing in his own abode, 
 
 He soothed the Goddess, while he gulled the God : 
 
 " Cease, daughter, to complain, and stint the strife ; 
 
 Thy Palamon shall have his promised wife : 
 
 And Mars, the lord of conquest, in the fight 395 
 
 With palm and laurel shall adorn his knight. 
 
 Wide is my course, nor turn I to my place 
 
 Till length of time, and move with tardy pace. 
 
 Man feels me, when I press the etherial plains ; 
 
 My hand is heavy, and the wound remains. 400 
 
 Mine is the shipwreck in a watery sign'' ; 
 
 And in an earthy the dark dungeon mine. 
 
 Cold shivering agues, melancholy care. 
 
 And bitter blasting winds, and poisoned air, 
 
 Are mine, and wilful death, resulting from despair. 405 
 
 The throttling quinsey 'tis my star appoints. 
 
 And rheumatisms I send to rack the joints : 
 
 When churls rebel against their native prince, 
 
 I arm their hands, and furnish the pretence ; 
 
 And housing in the lion's hateful sign'', 410 
 
 Bought senates and deserting troops are mine. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 83 
 
 Mine is the privy poisoning ; I command 
 
 Unkindly seasons and ungrateful land. 
 
 By me kings' palaces are pushed to ground, 
 
 And miners crushed beneath their mines are found. 415 
 
 'Twas I slew Samson, when the pillared hall 
 
 Fell down, and crushed the many with the fall. 
 
 My looking is the sire of pestilence. 
 
 That sweeps at once the people and the prince. 
 
 Now weep no more, but trust thy grandsire's art, 420 
 
 Mars shall be pleased, and thou perform thy part. 
 
 'Tis ill, though different your complexions" are. 
 
 The family of Heaven for men should war." 
 
 The expedient pleased, where neither lost his right ; 
 
 Mars had the day, and Venus had the night. 425 
 
 The management they left to Chronos"* care. 
 
 Now turn we to the effect, and sing the war. 
 
 In Athens all was pleasure, mirth, and play, 
 All proper to the spring and sprightly May : 
 Which every soul inspired with such delight, 430 
 
 'Twas justing all the day, and love at night. 
 Heaven smiled, and gladded was the heart of man ; 
 And Venus had the world as when it first began. 
 At length in sleep their bodies they compose. 
 And dreamt the future fight, and early rose. 435 
 
 Now scarce the dawning day began to spring. 
 As at a signal given, the streets with clamours ring : 
 At once the crowd arose ; confused and high. 
 Even from the heaven was heard a shouting cry, 
 For Mars was early up, and roused the sky. 440 
 
 The gods came downward to behold the wars. 
 Sharpening their sights, and leaning from their stars. 
 The neighing of the generous horse was heard. 
 For battle by the busy groom prepared : 
 Eustling of harness, rattling of the shield, 445 
 
 Clattering of armour, furbished for the field. 
 
84 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 Crowds to the castle mounted up the street ; 
 
 Battering the pavement with their coursers' feet : 
 
 The greedy sight might there devour the gold 
 
 Of glittering arms, too dazzling to behold : 450 
 
 And polished steel that cast the view aside, 
 
 And crested morions, with their plumy pride. 
 
 Knights, with a long retinue of their squires, 
 
 In gaudy liveries march, and quaint attires. 
 
 One laced the helm, another held the lance ; 455 
 
 A third the shining buckler did advance. 
 
 The courser pawed the ground with restless feet. 
 
 And snorting foamed, and champed the golden bit. 
 
 The smiths and armourers on palfreys ride, 
 
 Files in their hands, and hammers at their side, 46o 
 
 And nails for loosened spears and thongs for shields provide. 
 
 The yeomen guard the streets in seemly bands ; 
 
 And clowns come crowding on, with cudgels in their hands. 
 
 The trumpets, next the gate, in order placed. 
 Attend the sign to sound the martial blast : 465 
 
 The palace yard is filled with floating tides. 
 And the last comers bear the former to the sides. 
 The throng is in the midst ; the common crew 
 Shut out, the hall admits the better few. 
 In knots they stand, or in a rank they walk, 470 
 
 Serious in aspect, earnest in their talk ; 
 Factious, and favouring this or t'other side. 
 As their strong fancies and weak reason guide ; 
 Their wagers back their wishes ; numbers hold 
 With the fair freckled king, and beard of gold : 475 
 
 So vigorous are his eyes, such rays they cast. 
 So prominent his eagle's beak is placed. 
 But most their looks on the black monarch bend ; 
 His rising muscles and his brawn commend ; 
 His double-biting axe, and beamy spear, 430 
 
 Each asking a gigantic force to rear. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 85 
 
 All spoke as partial favour moved the mind ; 
 And, safe themselves, at others' cost divined. 
 
 Waked by the cries, the Athenian chief arose. 
 The knightly forms of combat to dispose ; 485 
 
 And passing through the obsequious guards, he sate 
 Conspicuous on a throne, sublime in state ; 
 There, for the two contending knights he sent ; 
 Armed cap-a-pe, with reverence low they bent ; 
 He smiled on both, and with superior look 490 
 
 Alike their offered adoration took. 
 The people press on every side to see 
 Their awful Prince, and hear his high decree. 
 Then signing to their heralds with his hand. 
 They gave his orders from their lofty stand. 495 
 
 Silence is thrice enjoined ; then thus aloud 
 Theking-at-arms bespeaks the knights and listening crowd: 
 " Our sovereign lord has pondered in his mind 
 The means to spare the blood of gentle kind ; 
 And of his grace and inborn clemency 500 
 
 He modifies his first severe decree. 
 The keener edge of battle to rebate, 
 The troops for honour fighting, not for hate. 
 He wills, not death should terminate their strife. 
 And wounds, if wounds ensue, be short of life ; 505 
 
 But issues, ere the fight, his dread command. 
 That slings afar, and poniards hand to hand, 
 Be banished from the field ; that none shall dare 
 \yith shortened sword to stab in closer war ; 
 But in fair combat fight with manly strength, 510 
 
 Nor push with biting point, but strike at length. 
 The turney is allowed but one career 
 Of the tough ash, with the sharp-grinded spear ; 
 Bnt knights unhorsed may rise from off the plain, 
 And fight on foot their honour to regain ; eis 
 
 Nor, if at mischief" taken, on the ground 
 
86 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 Be slain, but prisoners to the pillar bound, 
 
 At either barrier placed ; nor, captives made, 
 
 Be freed, or armed anew the fight invade : 
 
 The chief of either side, bereft of life, 620 
 
 Or yielded to his foe, concludes the strife. 
 
 Thus dooms the lord : now valiant knights and young. 
 
 Fight each his fill, with swords and maces long." 
 
 The herald ends : the vaulted firmament 
 With loud acclaims and vast applause is rent : 525 
 
 Heaven guard a Prince so gracious and so good, 
 So just, and yet so provident of blood ! 
 This was the general cry. The trumpets sound, 
 And warlike symphony is heard around. 
 The marching troops through Athens take their way, 530 
 The great Earl-marshal orders their array. 
 The fair from high the passing pomp behold ; 
 A rain of flowers is from the window rolled. 
 The casements are with golden tissue spread, 
 And horses' hoofs, for earth, on silken tapestry tread. 535 
 The King goes midmost, and the rivals ride 
 In equal rank, and close his either side. 
 Xext after these there rode the royal wife, 
 With Emily, the cause and the reward of strife. 
 The following cavalcade, by three and three, 540 
 
 Proceed by titles marshalled in degree. 
 Thus through the southern gate they take their way. 
 And at the list arrived ere prime of day. 
 There, parting from the King, the chiefs divide, 
 And wheeling east and west, before their many ride. 545 
 The Athenian monarch mounts his throne on high. 
 And after him the Queen and Emily : 
 ^N'ext these, the kindred of the crown are graced 
 With nearer seats, and lords by ladies placed. 
 Scarce were they seated, Avhen with clamours loud 550 
 
 In rushed at once a rude promiscuous crowd. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 87 
 
 The guards, and then each other overbare, 
 
 And in a moment throng the spacious theatre. 
 
 Now changed the jarring noise to whispers low, 
 
 As winds forsaking seas more softly blow, 555 
 
 When at the western gate, on which the car 
 
 Is placed aloft that bears the God of War, 
 
 Proud Arcite entering armed before his train 
 
 Stops at the barrier, and divides the plain. 
 
 Eed was his banner, and displayed abroad 560 
 
 The bloody colours of his patron god. 
 
 At that self moment enters Palamon 
 The gate of Venus, and the rising Sun ; 
 Waved by the wanton winds, his banner flies, 
 All maiden white, and shares the people's eyes. 565 
 
 From east to west, look all the world around. 
 Two troops so matched were never to be found ; 
 Such bodies built for strength, of equal age, 
 In stature sized ; so proud an equipage : 
 The nicest eye could no distinction make, 570 
 
 Where lay the advantage, or vv^hat side to take. 
 
 Thus ranged, the herald for the last proclaims 
 A silence, while they answered to their names : 
 For so the king decreed, to shun with care 
 The fraud of musters false, the common bane of war. 575 
 The tale was just, and then the gates were closed; 
 And chief to chief, and troop to troop opposed. 
 The heralds last retired, and loudly cried, 
 " The fortune of the field be fairly tried ! " 
 
 At this the challenger, with fierce defy, sso 
 
 His trumpet sounds ; the challenged makes reply : 
 With clangour rings the field, resounds the vaulted sky. 
 Their vizors closed, their lances in the rest. 
 Or at the helmet pointed or the crest. 
 They vanish from the barrier, speed the race, ess 
 
 And spurring see decrease the middle space. 
 
88 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 A cloud of smoke envelopes either host, 
 
 And all at once the combatants are lost : 
 
 Darkling they join adverse, and shock unseen. 
 
 Coursers with coursers justling, men with men : 590 
 
 As labouring in eclipse, a while they stay, 
 
 Till the next blast of wind restores the day. 
 
 They look anew : the beauteous form of fight 
 
 Is changed, and war appears a grisly sight. 
 
 Two troops in fair array one moment showed, 595 
 
 The next, a field with fallen bodies strowed : 
 
 Xot half the number in their seats are found ; 
 
 But men and steeds lie grovelling on the ground. 
 
 The points of spears are stuck within the shield. 
 
 The steeds without their riders scour the field. eoo 
 
 The knights unhorsed, on foot renew the fight ; 
 
 The glittering fauchions cast a gleaming light ; 
 
 Hauberks and helms are hewed with many a wound, 
 
 Out spins the streaming blood, and dyes the ground. 
 
 The mighty maces with such haste descend, 605 
 
 They break the bones, and make the solid armour bend. 
 
 This thrusts amid the throng with furious force ; 
 
 Down goes, at once, the horseman and the horse : 
 
 That courser stumbles on the fallen steed, 
 
 And, floundering, throws the rider o'er his head. eio 
 
 One rolls along, a football to his foes ; 
 
 One with a broken truncheon deals his blows. 
 
 This halting, this disabled with his wound. 
 
 In triumph led, is to the pillar bound. 
 
 Where by the king's award he must abide : cis 
 
 There goes a captive led on t'other side. 
 
 By fits they cease, and leaning on the lance. 
 
 Take breath a while, and to new fight advance. 
 
 Full oft the rivals met, and neither spared 
 His utmost force, and each forgot to ward : 620 
 
 The head of this was to the saddle bent. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 89 
 
 The other backward to the crupper sent : 
 
 Both were by turns unhorsed; the jealous blows 
 
 Fall thick and heavy, when on foot they close. 
 
 So deep their fauchions bite, that every stroke 625 
 
 Pierced to the quick ; and equal wounds they gave and took. 
 
 Borne far asunder by the tides of men, 
 
 Like adamant and steel they met agen. 
 
 So when a tiger sucks the bullock's blood, 
 A famished lion issuing from the wood eso 
 
 Eoars lordly fierce, and challenges the food. 
 Each claims possession, neither will obey. 
 But both their paws are fastened on the prey ; 
 They bite, they tear ; and while in vain they strive. 
 The swains come armed between,and both to distance drive. 
 
 At length, as Fate foredoomed, and all things tend ese 
 By course of time to their appointed end ; 
 So when the sun to west was far declined, 
 And both afresh in mortal battle joined. 
 The strong Emetrius came in Arcite's aid, 64o 
 
 And Palamon with odds was overlaid : 
 For, turning short, he struck with all his might 
 Full on the helmet of the unwary knight. 
 Deep was the wound ; he" staggered with the blow. 
 And turned him to his unexpected foe ; 645 
 
 Whom with such force he'' struck, he felled him down. 
 And cleft the circle of his golden crown. 
 But Arcite's men, who now prevailed in fight. 
 Twice ten at once surround the single knight : 
 O'erpowered at length, they force him to the ground, 650 
 Unyielded as he was, and to the pillar bound ; 
 And king Lycurgus, while he fought in vain 
 His friend to free, was tumbled on the plain. 
 
 Who now laments but Palamon, compelled 
 Xo more to try the fortune of the field, ess 
 
 And, worse than death, to view with hateful eyes 
 
90 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 His rival's conquest, and renounce the prize ! 
 
 The royal judge on his tribunal placed, 
 Who had beheld the fight from first to last, 
 Bad cease the war; pronouncing from on high, eco 
 
 Arcite of Thebes had won the beauteous Emily. 
 The sound of trumpets to tiie voice replied. 
 And round the royal lists the heralds cried, 
 " Arcite of Thebes has won the beauteous bride ! " 
 
 The people rend the skies with vast applause ; ees 
 
 All own the chief, when Fortune owns the cause. 
 Arcite is owned even by the gods above. 
 And conquering Mars insults the Queen of Love. 
 So laughed he when the rightful Titan" failed. 
 And Jove's usurping arms in heaven prevailed. cto 
 
 Laughed all the powers who favoured tyranny. 
 And all the standing army of the sky. 
 But Venus with dejected eyes appears. 
 And weeping on the lists distilled her tears ; 
 Her will refused, which grieves a woman most, 675 
 
 And, in her champion foiled, the cause of Love is lost. 
 Till Saturn said, — " Fair daughter, now be still. 
 The blustering fool has satisfied his will ; 
 His boon is given ; his knight has gained the day, 
 But lost the prize ; the arrears are yet to pay. eso 
 
 Thy hour is come, and mine the care shall be 
 To please thy knight, and set thy promise free." 
 
 ^ow while the heralds run the lists around. 
 And Arcite ! Arcite I heaven and earth resound, 
 A miracle (nor less it could be called) ess 
 
 Their joy with unexpected sorrow palled. 
 The victor knight had laid his helm aside. 
 Part for his ease, the greater part for pride : 
 Bareheaded, popularly low he bowed, 
 And paid the salutations of the crowd ; c9o 
 
 Then spurring, at full speed, ran headlong on 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 
 
 91 
 
 Where Theseus sat on his imperial throne ; 
 
 Furious he drove, and upward cast his eye, 
 
 Where, next the Queen, was placed his Emily ; 
 
 Then passing, to the saddle-bow he bent ; 695 
 
 A sweet regard the gracious virgin lent ; 
 
 (For women, to the brave an easy prey, 
 
 Still follow Fortune, where she leads the way :) 
 
 Just then from earth sprung out a flashing fire. 
 
 By Pluto" sent, at Saturn's bad desire : 700 
 
 The startling steed was seized with sudden fright, 
 
 And, bounding, o'er the pummel cast the knight ; 
 
 Forward he flew, and pitching on his head. 
 
 He quivered with his feet, and lay for dead. 
 
 Black was his countenance in a little space, 705 
 
 For all the blood was gathered in his face. 
 
 Help was at hand : they reared him from the ground, 
 
 And from his cumbrous arms his limbs unbound ; 
 
 They lanced a vein, and watched returning breath ; 
 
 It came, but clogged with symptoms of his death. 710 
 
 The saddle-bow the noble parts had prest, 
 
 All bruised and mortified his manly breast. 
 
 Him still entranced, and in a litter laid, 
 
 They bore from field, and to his bed conveyed. 
 
 At length he waked ; and, with a feeble cry, 715 
 
 The word he first pronounced was Emily. 
 
 Mean time the King, though inwardly he mourned. 
 In pomp triumphant to the town returned, 
 Attended by the chiefs who fought the field, 
 (Xow friendly mixed, and in one troop compelled ;) 720 
 Composed his looks to counterfeited cheer, 
 And bade them not for Arcite's life to fear. 
 But that which gladded all the warrior train, 
 Though most were sorely wounded, none were slain. 
 The surgeons soon despoiled them of their arms, 725 
 
 And some with salves they cure, and some with charms ; 
 
92 pala:\ion and arcite 
 
 Foment the bruises, and the pains assuage, 
 
 And heal their inward hurts with sovereign draughts of 
 
 sage. 
 The King in person visits all around, 
 Comforts the sick, congratulates the sound ; 730 
 
 Honours the princely chiefs, rewards the rest. 
 And holds for thrice three days a royal feast. 
 Kone was disgraced ; for falling is no shame, 
 And cowardice alone is loss of fame. 
 
 The venturous knight is from the saddle thrown, 735 
 
 But 'tis the fault of fortune, not his own ; 
 If crowds and palms the conquering side adorn, 
 The victor under better stars was born : 
 The brave man seeks not popular applause, 
 Nor, overpowered with arms, deserts his cause ; 740 
 
 Unshamed, though foiled, he does the best he can : 
 Force is of brutes, but honour is of man. 
 
 Thus Theseus smiled on all with equal grace, 
 And each was set according to his place ; 
 With ease w^ere reconciled the differing parts, 745 
 
 For envy never dwells in noble hearts. 
 At length they took their leave, the time expired, 
 Well pleased, and to their several homes retired. 
 
 Mean while, the health of Arcite still impairs ; 
 From bad proceeds to worse, and mocks the leech's cares ; 
 Swoln is his breast ; his inward pains increase ; 751 
 
 All means are used, and all without success. 
 The clottered blood lies heavy on his heart. 
 Corrupts, and there remains in spite of art ; 
 Nor breathing veins'* nor cupping will prevail ; 755 
 
 All outward rem^edies and inward fail. 
 The mould of nature's fabric is destroyed, 
 Her vessels discomposed, her virtue void : 
 The bellows of his lungs begins to swell ; 
 All out of frame is every secret cell, 760 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 93 
 
 Nor can the good receive, nor bad expel. 
 
 Those breathing organs, thus within opprest, 
 
 With venom soon distend the sinews of his breast. 
 
 Nought profits him to save abandoned life, 
 
 Nor vomit's upward aid, nor downward laxative. 765 
 
 The midmost region battered and destroyed. 
 
 When nature cannot work, the eU ect of art is void : 
 
 For physic can but mend our crazy state, 
 
 Patch an old building, not a new create. 
 
 Arcite is doomed to die in all his pride, 770 
 
 Must leave his youth, and yield his beauteous bride. 
 
 Gained hardly against right, and unen joyed. 
 
 When 'twas declared all hope of life was past, 
 
 Conscience, that of all physic works the last. 
 
 Caused him to send for Emily in haste. 775 
 
 With her, at his desire, came Palamon ; 
 
 Then, on his pillow raised, he thus begun : 
 
 " No language can express the smallest part 
 
 Of what I feel, and suffer in my heart. 
 
 For you, whom best I love and value most ; 78o 
 
 But to your service I bequeath my ghost ; 
 
 Which, from this mortal body when untied. 
 
 Unseen, unheard, shall hover at your side ; 
 
 Nor fright you waking, nor your sleep offend, 
 
 But wait officious, and your steps attend. 735 
 
 How I have loved, excuse my faltering tongue, 
 
 My spirit's feeble, and my pains are strong : 
 
 This I may say, I only grieve to die. 
 
 Because I lose my charming Emily. 
 
 To die, when Heaven had put you in my power ! 790 
 
 Fate could not choose a more malicious hour. 
 
 What greater curse could envious Fortune give. 
 
 Than just to die when I began to live ! 
 
 Vain men ! how vanishing a bliss we crave ; 
 
 Now warm in love, now withering in the grave ! 795 
 
94 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 Never, never more to see the sun ! 
 
 Still dark, in a damp vault, and still alone ! 
 
 This fate is common ; but I lose my breath 
 
 Near bliss, and yet not blessed before my death. 
 
 Farewell ! but take me dying in your arms ; soo 
 
 'Tis all I can enjoy of all your charms : 
 
 This hand I cannot but in death resign ; 
 
 Ah, could I live ! but while I live 'tis mine. 
 
 I feel my end approach, and thus embraced 
 
 Am pleased to die ; but hear me speak my last : 805 
 
 Ah, my sweet foe ! for you, and you alone, 
 
 I broke my faith with injured Palamon. 
 
 But love the sense of right and wrong confounds ; 
 
 Strong love and proud ambition have no bounds. 
 
 And much I doubt, should Heaven my life prolong, sio 
 
 I should return to justify my wrong ; 
 
 For while my former flames remain within, 
 
 Eepentance is but want of power to sin. 
 
 With mortal hatred I pursued his life, 
 
 Nor he nor you were guilty of the strife ; 815 
 
 Nor I, but as I loved ; yet all combined, 
 
 Your beauty and my impotence of mind, 
 
 And his concurrent flame that blew my fire, 
 
 For still our kindred souls had one desire. 
 
 He had a moment's right in point of time ; 820 
 
 Had I seen first, then his had been the crime. 
 
 Fate made it mine, and justified his right ; 
 
 Nor holds this earth a more deserving knight 
 
 For virtue, valour, and for noble blood. 
 
 Truth, honour, all that is comprised in good ; 825 
 
 So help me Heaven, in all the world is none 
 
 So worthy to be loved as Palamon. 
 
 He loves you too, with such a holy fire. 
 
 As will not, cannot, but with life expire : 
 
 Our vowed affections both have often tried, sso 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 95 
 
 Nor any love but yours could ours divide. 
 
 Then, by my love's inviolable band, 
 
 By my long suffering and my short command, 
 
 If e'er you plight your vows when I am gone, 
 
 Have pity on the faithful Palamon." 835 
 
 This was his last ; for Death came on amain, 
 And exercised below his iron reign ; 
 Then upward to the seat of life he goes ; 
 Sense fled before him, what he touched he froze : 
 Yet could he not his closing eyes withdraw, 84o 
 
 Though less and less of Emily he saw ; 
 So, speechless, for a little space he lay ; 
 Then grasped the hand he held, and sighed his soul away. 
 
 But whither went his soul ? let such relate 
 Who search the secrets of the future state : 845 
 
 Divines can say but what themselves believe ; 
 Strong proofs they have, but not demonstrative ; 
 For, were all plain, then all sides must agree, 
 And faith itself be lost in certainty. 
 
 To live uprightly then is sure the best ; 850 
 
 To save ourselves, and not to damn the rest. 
 The soul of Arcite went where heathens go. 
 Who better live than we, though less they know. 
 
 In Palamon a manly grief appears ; 
 Silent he wept, ashamed to show his tears. 855 
 
 Emilia shrieked but once ; and then, opprest 
 With sorrow, sunk upon her lover's breast : 
 Till Theseus in his arms conveyed with care 
 Far from so sad a sight the swooning fair. 
 'Twere loss of time her sorrow to relate ; sso 
 
 111 bears the sex a youthful lover's fate, 
 When just approaching to the nuptial state : 
 But, like a low-hung cloud, it rains so fast. 
 That all at once it falls, and cannot last. 
 The face of things is changed, and Athens now, ses 
 
96 PALAMOX AND ARCITE 
 
 That laughed so late, becomes the scene of woe. 
 
 Matrons and maids, both sexes, every state, 
 
 With tears lament the knight's untimely fate. 
 
 Xot greater grief in falling Troy was seen 
 
 For Hector's death ; but Hector was not then. s:o 
 
 Old men with dust deformed their hoary hair ; 
 
 The women beat their breasts, their cheeks they tear. 
 
 " Why wouldst thou go," with one consent they cry, 
 
 " When thou hadst gold enough, and Emily ? " 
 
 Theseus himself, who should have cheered the grief sts 
 Of others, wanted now the same relief : 
 Old ^geus only could revive his son. 
 Who various changes of the world had known, 
 And strange vicissitudes of human fate, 
 Still altering, never in a steady state : sso 
 
 Good after ill and after pain delight. 
 Alternate, like the scenes of day and night. 
 Since every man who lives is born to die, 
 And none can boast sincere felicity, 
 
 With equal mind, what happens, let us bear, 885 
 
 'Nov joy, nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. 
 Like pilgrims to the appointed place we tend ; 
 The world's an inn, and death the journey's end. 
 Even kings but play, and when their part is done. 
 Some other, worse or better, mount the throne. sqo 
 
 With words like these the crowd was satisfied ; 
 And so they would have been, had Theseus died. 
 But he, their King, was labouring in his mind 
 A fitting place for funeral pomps to find, 
 AYhich were in honour of the dead designed. 895 
 
 And, after long debate, at last he found 
 (As Love itself had marked the spot of ground,) 
 That grove for ever green, that conscious laund, 
 Where he with Palamon fought hand to hand ; 
 That, where he fed his amorous desires 900 
 
OE, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 97 
 
 With soft complaints, and felt his hottest fires, 
 There other flames might waste his earthly part, 
 And burn his limbs, where love had burned his heart. 
 
 This once resolved, the peasants were enjoined 
 Sere-wood, and firs, and doddered oaks to find. 905 
 
 With sounding axes to the grove they go, 
 Fell, split, and lay the fuel in a row ; 
 Vulcanian food : a bier is next prepared, 
 On which the lifeless body should be reared, 
 Covered with cloth of gold ; on which was laid 910 
 
 The corps of Arcite, in like robes arrayed. 
 White gloves were on his hands, and on his head 
 A wreath of laurel, mixed with myrtle, spread. 
 A sword keen-edged within his right he held, 
 The warlike emblem of the conquered field ; 915 
 
 Bare was his manly visage on the bier ; 
 Menaced his countenance, even in death severe. 
 Then to the palace-hall they bore the knight. 
 To lie in solemn state, a public sight : 
 Groans, cries, and bowlings fill the crowded place, 020 
 
 And unaffected sorrow sat on every face. 
 Sad Palamon above the rest appears. 
 In sable garments, dewed with gushing tears ; 
 His auburn locks on either shoulder flowed, 
 Which to the funeral of his friend he vowed ; 925 
 
 But Emily, as chief, was next his side, 
 A virgin-widow and a mourning bride. 
 And, that the princely obsequies might be 
 Performed according to his high degree. 
 The steed, that bore him living to the fight, 930 
 
 Was trapped with polished steel, all shining bright, 
 And covered with the atchievements of the knight. 
 The riders rode abreast ; and one his shield. 
 His lance of cornel-wood another held ; 
 The third his bow, and, glorious to behold, »35 
 
98 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 The costly quiver, all of burnished gold. 
 
 The noblest of the Grecians next appear, 
 
 And weeping on their shoulders bore the bier ; 
 
 With sober pace they marched, and often stayed. 
 
 And through the master-street the corps conveyed. 940 
 
 The houses to their tops with black were spread, 
 
 And even the pavements were with mourning hid. 
 
 The right side of the pall old iEgeus kept. 
 
 And on the left the royal Theseus wept ; 
 
 Each bore a golden bowl of work divine, 945 
 
 With honey filled, and milk, and mixed with ruddy wine. 
 
 Then Palamon, the kinsman of the slain, 
 
 And after him appeared the illustrious train. 
 
 To grace the pomp came Emily the bright, 
 
 With covered fire the funeral pile to light. 950 
 
 With high devotion was the service made. 
 
 And all the rites of pagan honour paid : 
 
 So lofty was the pile, a Parthian bow, 
 
 AVith vigour drawn, must send the shaft below. 
 
 The bottom was full twenty fathom broad, 955 
 
 With crackling straw beneath in due proportion strowed. 
 
 The fabric seemed a wood of rising green. 
 
 With sulphur and bitumen cast between 
 
 To feed the flames : the trees were unctuous fir. 
 
 And mountain-ash, the mother of the spear ; 96o 
 
 The mourner-yew and builder-oak were there, 
 
 The beech, the swimming alder, and the plane. 
 
 Hard box, and linden of a softer grain. 
 
 And laurels, which the gods for conquering chiefs ordain. 
 
 How they were ranked shall rest untold by me, 965 
 
 With nameless Xymphs that lived in every tree ; 
 
 Xor how the Dryads and the woodland train. 
 
 Disherited, ran howling o'er the plain : 
 
 Kor how the birds to foreign seats repaired, 
 
 Or beasts that bolted out and saw the forests bared : 9to 
 
OR, THE KNIGHTS TALE 99 
 
 Nor how the ground now cleared with ghastly fright 
 Beheld the sudden sun, a stranger to the light. 
 
 The straw, as first 1 said, was laid below : 
 Of chips and sere-wood was the second row ; 
 The third of greens, and timber newly felled ; 97s 
 
 The fourth high stage the fragrant odours held. 
 And pearls, and precious stones, and rich array ; 
 In midst of which, embalmed, the body lay. 
 The service sung, the maid with mourning eyes 
 The stubble fired ; the smouldering flames arise : cso 
 
 This office done, she sunk upon the ground ; 
 But what she spoke, recovered from her swound, 
 I want the wit in moving words to dress ; 
 But by themselves the tender sex may guess. 
 While the devouring fire was burning fast, 985 
 
 Eich jewels in the flame the wealthy cast ; 
 And some their shields, and some their lances threw. 
 And gave the warrior's ghost a warrior's due. 
 Full bowls of wine, of honey, milk, and blood 
 Were poured upon the pile of burning wood, 990 
 
 And hissing flames receive, and hungry lick the food. 
 Then thrice the mounted squadrons ride around 
 The fire, and Arcite's name they thrice resound : 
 " Hail and farewell ! " they shouted thrice amain. 
 Thrice facing to the left, and thrice they turned again : 995 
 Still, as they turned, they beat their clattering shields ; 
 The women mix their cries, and clamour fills the fields. 
 The warlike wakes continued all the night. 
 And funeral games were played at new returning light : 
 Who naked wrestled best, besmeared with oil, 1000 
 
 Or who with gauntlets gave or took the foil, 
 I will not tell you, nor would you attend ; 
 But briefly haste to my long story's end. 
 
 I pass the rest ; the year was fully mourned. 
 And Palamon long since to Thebes returned : 1005 
 
100 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 When, by the Grecians' general consent, 
 
 At Athens Theseus held his parliament ; 
 
 Among the laws that passed, it was decreed, 
 
 That conquered Thebes from bondage should be freed ; 
 
 Eeserving homage to the Athenian throne, loio 
 
 To which the sovereign summoned Palamon. 
 
 Unknowing of the cause, he took his way, 
 
 Mournful in mind, and still in black array. 
 
 The monarch mounts the throne, and, placed on high. 
 Commands into the court the beauteous Emily. 1015 
 
 So called, she came ; the senate rose, and paid 
 Becoming reverence to the royal maid. 
 And first, soft whispers through the assembly went ; 
 With silent wonder then they watched the event ; 
 All hushed, the King arose with awful grace ; 1020 
 
 Deep thought was in his breast, and counsel in his face : 
 At length he sighed, and having first prepared 
 The attentive audience, thus his will declared : 
 
 " The Cause and Spring of motion from above 
 Hung down on earth the golden chain of Love ; 1025 
 
 Great was the effect, and high was his intent. 
 When peace among the jarring seeds he sent ; 
 Fire, flood, and earth and air by this were bound. 
 And Love, the common link, the new creation crowned. 
 The chain still holds ; for though the forms decay, 1030 
 Eternal matter never wears away : 
 The same first mover certain bounds has placed, 
 How long those perishable forms shall last ; 
 Nor can they last beyond the time assigned 
 By that all-seeing and all-making Mind : loss 
 
 Shorten their hours they may, for will is free, 
 But never pass the appointed destiny. 
 So men oppressed, when weary of their breath. 
 Throw off the burden, and suborn their death. 
 Then, since those forms begin, and have their end, 1040 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 101 
 
 On some unaltered cause they sure depend : 
 
 Parts of the whole are we, but God the whole, 
 
 Who gives us life, and animating soul. 
 
 For Mature cannot from a part derive 
 
 That being which the whole can only give : 1045 
 
 He perfect, stable ; but imperfect we. 
 
 Subject to change, and different in degree ; 
 
 Plants, beasts, and man ; and, as our organs are, 
 
 We more or less of his perfection share. 
 
 But, by a long descent, the etherial fire 1050 
 
 Corrupts ; and forms, the mortal part, expire. 
 
 As he withdraws his virtue, so they pass. 
 
 And the same matter makes another mass : 
 
 This law the omniscient Power was pleased to give, 
 
 That every kind should by succession live ; 1055 
 
 That individuals die, his will ordains ; 
 
 The propagated species still remains. 
 
 The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees. 
 
 Shoots rising up, and spreads by slow degrees ; 
 
 Three centuries he grows, and three he stays, loeo 
 
 Supreme in state, and in three more decays ; 
 
 So wears the paving pebble in the street, 
 
 And towns and towers their fatal periods meet : 
 
 So rivers, rapid once, now naked lie. 
 
 Forsaken of their springs, and leave their channels dry. 
 
 So man, at first a drop, dilates with heat, loee 
 
 Then, formed, the little heart begins to beat ; 
 
 Secret he feeds, unknowing, in the cell ; 
 
 At length, for hatching ripe, he breaks the shell. 
 
 And struggles into breath, and cries for aid ; 1070 
 
 Then helpless in his mother's lap is laid. 
 
 He creeps, he walks, and, issuing into man. 
 
 Grudges their life from whence his own began ; 
 
 Eeckless of laws, affects to rule alone. 
 
 Anxious to reign, and restless on the throne ; 1075 
 
102 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 First vegetive, then feels, and reasons last ; 
 
 Rich of three souls", and lives all three to waste. 
 
 Some thus ; but thousands more in flower of age, 
 
 For few arrive to run the latter stage. 
 
 Sunk in the first, in battle some are slain. 
 
 And others whelmed beneath the stormy main. 
 
 What makes all this, but Jupiter the king, 
 
 At whose command we perish, and we spring ? 
 
 Then 'tis our best, since thus ordained to die. 
 
 To make a virtue of necessity : 
 
 Take what he gives, since to rebel is vain ; 
 
 The bad grows better, which we well sustain ; 
 
 And could we choose the time, and choose aright, 
 
 'Tis best to die, our honour at the height. 
 
 When we have done our ancestors no shame. 
 
 But served our friends, and well secured our fame ; 
 
 Then should we wish our happy life to close. 
 
 And leave no more for fortune to dispose ; 
 
 So should we make our death a glad relief 
 
 From future shame, from sickness, and from grief ; 
 
 Enjoying while we live the present hour. 
 
 And dying in our excellence and flower. 
 
 Then round our death-bed every friend should run. 
 
 And joy us of our conquest early won ; 
 
 While the malicious world, with envious tears. 
 
 Should grudge our happy end, and wish it theirs. 
 
 Since then our Arcite is with honour dead, 
 
 Why should we mourn, that he so soon is freed. 
 
 Or call untimely what the gods decreed ? 
 
 With grief as just a friend may be deplored, 
 
 From a foul prison to free air restored. 
 
 Ought he to thank his kinsman or his wife. 
 
 Could tears recall him into wretched life ? 
 
 Their sorrow hurts themselves ; on him is lost. 
 
 And worse than both, offends his happy ghost. 
 
OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 103 
 
 What then remains, but after past annoy 
 
 To take the good vicissitude of joy ; 
 
 To thank the gracious gods for what they give, 
 
 Possess our souls, and, while we live, to live ? 
 
 Ordain we then two sorrows to combine, 1115 
 
 And in one point the extremes of grief to join ; 
 
 That thence resulting joy may be renewed. 
 
 As jarring notes in harmony conclude. 
 
 Then I propose that Palamon shall be 
 
 In marriage joined with beauteous Emily ; 1120 
 
 For which already I have gained the assent 
 
 Of my free people in full parliament. 
 
 Long love to her has borne the faithful knight. 
 
 And well deserved, had Fortune done him right : 
 
 ^Tis time to mend her fault, since Emily 1125 
 
 By Arcite's death from former vows is free ; 
 
 If you, fair sister, ratify the accord. 
 
 And take him for your husband and your lord, 
 
 'Tis no dishonour to confer your grace 
 
 On one descended from a royal race ; ^^^^ 
 
 And were he less, yet years of service past 
 
 From grateful souls exact reward at last. 
 
 Pity is Heaven's and yours ; nor can she find 
 
 A throne so soft as in a woman's mind." 
 
 He said ; she blushed ; and as o'erawed by might, 1135 
 
 Seemed to give Theseus what she gave the knight. 
 
 Then, turning to the Theban, thus he said : 
 
 " Small arguments are needful to persuade 
 
 Your temper to comply with my command : " 
 
 And speaking thus, he gave Emilia's hand. luo 
 
 Smiled Venus, to behold her own true knight 
 
 Obtain the conquest, though he lost the fight ; 
 
 And blessed with nuptial bliss the sweet laborious night. 
 
 Eros and Anteros on either side, 
 
 One fired the bridegroom, and one warmed the bride ; 1145 
 
104 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 And long-attending Hymen from above 
 
 Showered on the bed the whole Idalian grove. 
 
 All of a tenor was their after-life, 
 
 Xo day discoloured with domestic strife ; 
 
 Xo jealousy, but mutual truth believed, 1150 
 
 Secure repose, and kindness undeceived. 
 
 Thus Heaven, beyond the compass of his thought. 
 
 Sent him the blessing he so dearly bought. 
 
 So may the Queen of Love long duty bless. 
 And all true lovers find the same success. 1155 
 
NOTES 
 
 Dedication. The Duke of Ormond was one of Dryden's friends and 
 patrons. His grandfather, the first Duke of Ormond, a vigorous Cava- 
 lier, was at one time Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. The present duke 
 had seen military service under William III in Ireland and on the 
 Continent, and for these services received lands in Ireland. At the 
 time of the appearance of this poem the duke was about to visit his 
 estate ; the duchess, just recovered from a severe illness, preceded him 
 thither. The duchess was born Lady Margaret Somerset, daughter 
 of the Duke of Beaufort, a lineal descendant of the Plantagenet king 
 Edward III ; she therefore was of " equal kindred to the throne " with 
 the "fairest" of Chaucer's time [11. 11-18]. 
 
 13. The fairest nymph : probably the " Fair Maid of Kent," who 
 was the wife successively of three husbands — Thomas Holland, the 
 Earl of Salisbury, and Edward the Black Prince [1. 15]. She was that 
 Countess of Salisbury in whose presence Edward III is said to have 
 made his famous remark on picking up a fallen garter, Hani soit qui 
 mal y pense (Evil to him who evil thinks). As granddaughter of 
 Edward I she was a Plantagenet. She was the mother of Richard II. 
 
 18. the nohlest order: the Order of the Garter, founded by 
 Edward III. 
 
 29. Platonic year : the year when, it was supposed, the celestial 
 bodies will occupy the same positions as at the creation. 
 
 30. fatal: destined. 
 
 44. Triton : a minor sea god who smoothed the waves. 
 
 45. Nereids : sea nymphs. 
 
 46. Etesian gale : any steady, regularly recurring wind. 
 48. Portunus : a minor sea god, presiding over harbors. 
 
 63. Venus : here, the morning star, which rises before the sun. 
 65. Pales . . . Ceres : minor divinities, presiding respectively over 
 flocks and agriculture. 
 
 8 105 
 
106 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 67. three campaigns. The sympai hi/.ors of James IT, in their efforts 
 to restore the deposed king, fought several battles in Ireland. 
 
 72. relics of mankind : Noah and his family. 
 
 87. A reference to the notion that there are no reptiles in Ireland. 
 
 117. four ingredients. The ancients believed that all substances 
 were composed of four elements only — air, earth, fire, and water — 
 combined variously in different proportions. 
 
 125. Vespasian : Titus, the conqueror of Jerusalem. He is said to 
 have wept at the burning of the temple. 
 
 128. detested act. Had the duchess died. Dry den would have felt 
 constrained to write an elegy. 
 
 130. table of my vow : the tablet containing the recorded vow. 
 
 131. Morley : the physician. 
 
 133. Macedon. Thessalus, a famous Macedonian physician, cured 
 Ptolemy Soter, one of Alexander's generals, who afterward became 
 the first of the dynasty of Ptolemies in Egypt. 
 
 138. you. To what part of speech does this word belong f 
 
 151. daughter of the Rose. The red and the white rose i-espectively 
 was the badge of the Lancastrian and the Yorkist factions during the 
 War of the Roses. The factions were united by the marriage of the 
 Lancastrian Henry VII (Henry Tudor) and Elizabeth, the most direct 
 heir of the house of York. The Tudor rose is an emblem made of a 
 red and a white rose combined in a conventional fashion. 
 
 158. Penelope. After long years of absence in the Trojan war, 
 Ulysses returned home to find his wife Penelope faithful to him in 
 spite of the powerful persuasions of suitors. 
 
 162. Ascanius — Elisa. Dryden here confuses Elisa (Dido) with 
 Andromache, who gave an embroidered cloak to Ascanius, son of 
 JEneas, the escaped Trojan hero and legendary founder of the 
 Roman race. 
 
 This dedication is a fair type of the best of the laudatory dedica- 
 tions so fashionable in Dryden's age. Although rather extravagant 
 to nineteenth-century ears, the compliments are certainly drawn with 
 a dainty deftness of which Dryden was master above all his contem- 
 poraries. His regard for the house of Ormond was really sincere. 
 The entire collection of fables is dedicated to the duke. 
 
NOTES 107 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 2. Theseus (the'-sus) : a favorite legendary hero of Greece, reputed 
 King of Attica. His most famous exploit was the killing of the 
 Minotaur, a monster of Crete with a man's body and a bull's head, 
 who devoured yearly fourteen fair children sent as tribute from Athens. 
 Theseus also defeated the Amazons, the woman warriors living on the 
 shores of the Black Sea, and married their queen Hippolyta. The 
 earlier legends make Antiope (an-ti'-o-pe), her sister, the bride of 
 Theseus. Other legends confuse the two women with each other. 
 
 12. Love to friend. The word to in Old English often meant the 
 same as for or as. Remnants of this usage are found as late as 
 Milton's time, and in poetry still later. This use may be noted in the 
 marriage ceremony of the English Church — " Wilt thou have this 
 woman to thy wedded wife f " 
 
 27-33. The knight is telling this story to the other Canterbury 
 pilgrims. 
 
 29. accidents : incidents, happenings, the primitive meaning. 
 
 50. weeds : garments — not necessarily mourning garments. 
 
 76. Capaneus : one of the seven legendary heroes who joined in 
 an expedition against Thebes. 
 
 81. Creon : the King of Thebes, overcome by Theseus. 
 
 100. faith. What oath did mediasval knights take ? 
 
 109. God of War: Mars, son of Jupiter and Juno, the king and 
 queen of the gods. 
 
 109. Argent field. A gross anachronism. Heraldry was not com- 
 pletely developed even in Chaucer's time, and was unknown to the 
 ancients. Explain the parts of a complete coat of arms. 
 
 115. pennon. What was the difference in form and significance 
 between pennon and banner [1. 108] ? 
 
 143. whom . . . they. Who are meant respectively ? 
 
 176. sprightly May. May was the favorite month of the earlier 
 English poets, and the celebration of May Day was one of the most 
 popular of festivals among the English people. 
 
 186. Aurora: goddess of the dawn. 
 
 195. White and red. Rarely is a flower of any other color than 
 white or red mentioned by early English poets. The variety of 
 flowers until after Dryden's time was very limited and tlie forms were 
 simple. 
 
 199. Philomel. Philomela, daughter of an Attic king, being dis- 
 honored, was changed to a nightingale. 
 
108 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 202. keep : the strongest part of a castle. 
 
 204. partition: apartment. 
 
 246. Saturn in the dungeon of the sky. Astrologers divided the 
 heavens into twelve sections, or houses, by great circles drawn from 
 pole to pole that remained stationary with respect to an observer at 
 any given point. The stars, therefore, moved successively from one 
 house to another. The appearance of certain planets in certain 
 houses betokened varying degrees of fortune. Saturn, the evil planet 
 is here represented as being in one of the unlucky houses. Both 
 Chaucer and Dryden, like most other people of their times, were to 
 some extent believers in astrology. 
 
 258. Actaeon (act-e'-on) : a legendary hunter, a descendant of Cad- 
 mus, who accidentally discovered Diana bathing. As punishment 
 he was turned into a stag and killed by his own hounds. 
 
 261. Cyprian queen : Venus, goddess of love and beauty, daughter 
 of Jupiter, worshiped chiefly in Cyprus. 
 
 272. fatal dart : Cupid's dart. 
 
 362. .Esop : an ancient writer of fables, said to have been a 
 Phrygian slave living about 600 b. c. 
 
 358. Pirithous (pir-i-thus') : a Thessalian prince. Theseus once 
 helped him avenge an insult to his bride. Later, Pirithous was 
 accompanied by Theseus in an attempt to abduct Proserpina, Queen 
 of Hades ; Theseus escaped, but Pirithous was torn to pieces. 
 
 364. to redeem him went to hell. A legend of Castor and Pollux 
 confused with the legend of the visit of Pirithous and Theseus to 
 Hades. 
 
 381. Finds his dear purchase : finds his purchase expensive. 
 
 499. Juno's wrath. Cadmus, the founder of Thebes, slew a serpent 
 sacred to Mars. Juno (the mother of Mars), Mars, and tlieir faction 
 among the gods never forgave the injury, and never ceased to pursue 
 with misfortune the descendants of Cadmus and the Thebans. 
 
 500. in a quartil move. In astrology planets when distant from 
 each other 90' in longitude were in quartil — an omen of evil. 
 
 547. Hermes : the Greek name for Mercury, son of Jupiter. He 
 was the messenger of the gods, more particularly of his father. He 
 wore a winged cap and winged sandals and carried the caduceus, a 
 winged rod entwined with two serpents, which had magical powers to 
 put to sleep and to produce dreams. 
 
 552. Argus : a giant with a hundred eyes. He was slain by Mer- 
 cury, and his eyes were transferred by Juno to the tail of the pea- 
 cock. 
 
NOTES 109 
 
 B K II 
 
 10. within the Twins : when the sun enters the constellation 
 Gemini, or Twins. 
 
 30. join. In Dryden's day join was pronounced jlne. Many pecul- 
 iarities of New England speech are not real Americanisms, but are 
 remnants of English speech of the seventeenth century that have per- 
 sisted in America among the descendants of the Puritans, while they 
 have disappeared from the language of England. 
 
 34. style : pen, from Latin stylus. 
 
 55. the Graces : Aglaia, Euphrosyne, and Thalia, daughters of 
 Jupiter, presiding over beauty, grace, and joy. 
 
 83. cheer : countenance. 
 
 84. Friday. Named from Friga, the Teutonic goddess correspond- 
 ing to Venus. 
 
 88. Juno's unrelenting hate. See note on line 499, Book I. 
 
 103. That side of heaven : the faction of Juno. 
 
 209-221. Wherein is this Calvinisticf Dryden closely reproduces 
 Chaucer. 
 
 232. goddess of the silver bow : Diana, daughter of Jupiter and 
 Latona and twin sister of Apollo, identical with the Greek Artemis. 
 She was the goddess of the chase and protectress of chastity and child- 
 birth. She was known also as Cynthia and as Lucina. She was sym- 
 bolized by the moon. 
 
 235. laund : a glade. 
 
 338, 339. he sought his right, etc. Who are meant respectively by 
 the words he and Ms 9 
 
 344, 345. William III ? 
 
 361. despite: disadvantage. 
 
 378. past : passed. 
 
 498. Idalian mount. Mount Ida is here probably confused with 
 Idalium, a city of Cyprus devoted to Venus. 
 
 498. Citheron. Ythera was the island first reached by Venus after 
 she arose from the sea. There is a probable confusion with Cithaeron, 
 a mountain in Greece sacred to Jupiter (Greek, Zeus). 
 
 502. Narcissus : the handsome son of a river god greatly beloved 
 by Echo. He did not return her love, and she faded away until only 
 her voice was left. In answer to her prayer that he too might suffer 
 from unrequited love, Diana made him fall in love with his own 
 image in the water and pine away until he died. 
 
 505. Medea : a sorceress, a lover of Jason, who by enchantments 
 
110 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 helped him obtain the golden fleece. Afterward she poisoned a prin- 
 cess for whom Jason had put her away. Later she became wife of 
 ^geus, father of Theseus. Still later she went to Asia; whence 
 Medea. 
 
 505. Circean feasts. The enchantress Circe changed to beasts all 
 who accepted her hospitality. ' 
 
 560. Are the following lines descriptive of paintings within the 
 picture of the temple [1. 540], or are they descriptive of decorative 
 drawings on the walls of the temple erected by Theseus? 
 
 604. Mars his ides : the ides of March (the 15th), the day on which 
 Julius Cassar was slain. March was named for Mars. It was formerly 
 supposed that the apostrophe and s as the sign of the possessive was a 
 contraction of his. 
 
 607. Antony. Madly in love with Cleopatra, he sacrificed his 
 political power for her. 
 
 614. geomantic figures : figures outlined by dots. The warrior 
 form symbolized the planet when advancing through the heavens 
 faster than the stars — i. e., direct ; the maiden form symbolized the 
 planet when advancing more slowly than the stars— i. e., seeming to 
 retrograde. 
 
 622. Calisto : Callisto, one of Diana's nymphs, beloved by Jupiter. 
 She became the object of Juno's jealousy and was changed into a bear, 
 and she and her son were at last placed in the heavens as the constel- 
 lations of the Great and the Little Bear. 
 
 631. Daphne : a nymph beloved by Apollo, to escape whom she 
 was turned into a laurel. 
 
 634-638. ffinides (e-ni'-de§), or Meleager (me-le-a'-ger), was one of 
 the hunters of the boar sent by Diana, because of a slight, to devas- 
 tate the fields of Calydonia. He was successful, and gave the head 
 and hide as a love token to Atalanta, the swift-footed. His uncles, 
 jealous of Meleager, attacked him and were slain by him. At Melea- 
 ger's birth it was predicted that he would live as long as a certain 
 brand remained unburned. This brand had been carefully preserved 
 by his mother, but when she learned of the death of her brothers, 
 in anger at her son she threw it into the fire. 
 
 639. Volscian queen : Camilla, a swift-footed warrior huntress, a 
 favorite of Diana, slain in battle by Aruns, who was in turn killed by 
 one of Diana's nymphs. 
 
 661, 662. Dryden's own satire prompted by his own removal from 
 royal patronage and by the favor bestowed upon the Whig poets. 
 
NOTES 111 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 31. Pruce: Prussia. 
 
 99. Bacchus: son of Jupiter, and god of wine. He taught the 
 cultivation of the vine in many countries, even as distant as India. 
 
 120. Phosphor: light bringer; the planet Venus as the morn- 
 ing star. 
 
 147. Adonis. Venus was violently enamored of a beautiful hunter, 
 Adonis. He was killed by a boar, and the grief of Venus was incon- 
 solable. 
 
 169. fifth orb. According to the ancient belief the universe con- 
 sisted of a series of concentric crystal spheres with the earth as their 
 common center. Within these spheres moved the heavenly bodies. 
 Venus occupied the third, not the fifth, as here. 
 
 169. Fates. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos were the three sister 
 goddesses who respectively spun the thread of life, measured it, and 
 cut it. 
 
 171. A short life with Emily is preferable to a long life with- 
 out her. 
 
 200. Uncouth: unknown, its primitive meaning. 
 
 212. Statius : a Latin author of the first century. His Thebais 
 contained an early form of the story of Palamon and Arcite. 
 
 221. Niobe (ni'-o-be). Niobe boasted of her fourteen children and 
 her consequent superiority over Latona, who had borne but two — 
 Diana and Apollo. To avenge the taunt, Diana and Apollo shot to 
 death all fourteen. 
 
 229. servant : lover. 
 
 232. triple shape. In the heavens Diana is. Cynthia or Luna; on 
 earth, Diana or Lucina ; in Hades she is sometimes identified with 
 Proserpina. 
 
 290. planetary hour. Each hour was under the controlling influ- 
 ence of one of the planets. 
 
 291. heptarchy: the seven greatest deities. Who were they? 
 297. Hyperborean seas : seas beyond the north winds. 
 
 320. Vulcan : son of Jupiter and Juno, and husband of Venus. 
 He was the smith who forged Jupiter's thunderbolts. He once dis- 
 covered Mars and Venus making love to each other, and, entangling 
 them in the meshes of an invisible net, held them up to the ridicule of 
 the gods. 
 
 344. atchievements : armorial symbols. 
 
 388. outrun. Chaucer's word here is at-rede, excel in counsel. 
 
112 PALAMON AND ARCITE 
 
 389. Venus trined. The planets Saturn and Venus were 130° apart, 
 in astrology a favorable condition. 
 
 390. with stern Mars in Capricorn. Both Mars and Saturn were in 
 the constellation Capricorn. 
 
 401. watery sign. Each of the zodiacal signs had significance with 
 reference to the four elements. Saturn in one of the " watery " signs, 
 Cancer, Scorpio, or Pisces, threatened shipwreck ; in an " earthy " sign, 
 Taurus, Virgo, or Capricornus, it threatened imprisonment. 
 
 410. in the lion's hateful sign. Saturn in Leo, a '* fiery " sign, also 
 betokened evil. 
 
 422. complexions: temperam*ents. 
 
 426. Chronos. More properly Cronos, the Greek name for Saturn. 
 
 516. mischief: disadvantage. 
 
 644. he. Who? 
 
 646. he. Who? 
 
 669. rightful Titan. The Titans were a race of primitive deities, 
 children of Heaven (Coelus, or Uranus) and Earth (Terra, or Goea). 
 They overthrew their father and enthroned the youngest, Saturn. He 
 in turn was deposed by his son Jupiter, who succeeded him. 
 
 700. Pluto : brother of Jupiter and ruler of Hades. 
 
 755. breathing veins : a method of bleeding by opening a vein 
 directly. 
 
 1077. three souls: the powers to grow, to perceive and feel, and 
 to think. 
 
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 "One of the most interesting volumes of recent publication, and sure to find its place 
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 7 
 
 "HE ROMANCE OF AN EMPRESS. Catherine 
 II, of Russia, By K. Waliszewski. With Portrait. i2mo. 
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 " A striking and able work, deserving of the highest praise." — Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
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 of the subject was so abnormal and sensational as to seem to belong to fiction." — New 
 York Sun. 
 
 "A dignified, handsome, indeed superb volume, and well worth careful reading." 
 — Chicago Herald. 
 
 " It is a most wonderful story, charmingly told, with new material to sustain it, and 
 a breadth and temperance and consideration that go far to soften one's estimate of one 
 of the most e.xtraordinary women of history." — New York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 " A romance in which fiction finds no place ; a charming narrative wherein the 
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 so essential to the student of universal history." — Philadelphia Bulletin. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
The Races of Europe. 
 
 A Sociological Study. By William Z. Ripley, 
 Ph. D., Assistant Professor of Sociology, Massa- 
 chusetts Institute of Technology ; Lecturer in An- 
 thropology at Columbia University, in the City of 
 
 New York. Crown 8vo, cloth; 650 pages, with 85 Maps 
 and 235 Portrait Types. With a Supplementary Bibliography of 
 nearly 2,000 Titles, separately bound in cloth, issued by the 
 Boston Public Library. 178 pages. - - - - Price, $6.00 
 
 " One of the most fascinating sociological and anthropo- 
 logical studies that have been offered of late to the public. . . . 
 The book is one to be studied with care, and it is a pleasure 
 to commend it as most helpful to sociological students." 
 
 Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 **Will win the approval of all thoughtful readers; and the 
 care, patience, skill, and knowledge with which it is planned, 
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 ried out, call for the very highest praise." 
 
 Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. 
 
 **One of the most important works of the year." 
 
 ISIezv York Mail and Express. 
 
 **A valuable and interesting book. . . . Will attract the 
 attention of all students of anthropology and all its kindred 
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 book of supreme interest at the present moment." 
 
 Chicago Times-Herald. 
 
 **Not only a profound sociological study but a scholarly 
 contribution to the science of anthropology and ethnology by 
 an eminent authority." Philadelphia Press. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 
 
014 150 308 A 
 
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