by John Dryden
Let Palamon oppress’d in Bondage mourn,
While to his exil’d Rival we return.
By this the Sun, declining from his Height,
The Day had shortned to prolong the Night: 505
The lengthen’d 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 Banish’d never hopes his Love to see, 510
Nor hopes the Captive Lord his Liberty:
’Tis hard to say who suffers greater Pains,
One sees his Love, but cannot break his Chains:
One free, and all his Motions uncontroul’d,
Beholds whate’er he wou’d, but what he wou’d behold. 515
Judge as you please, for I will haste to tell
What Fortune to the banish’d Knight befel.
When Arcite was to Thebes return’d again,
The Loss of her he lov’d renew’d his Pain;
What could be worse than never more to see 520
His Life, his Soul, his charming Emily?
He rav’d with all the Madness of Despair,
He roar’d, he beat his Breast, he tore his Hair.
Dry Sorrow in his stupid Eyes appears,
For wanting Nourishment, he wanted Tears: 525
His Eye-balls in their hollow Sockets sink,
Bereft of Sleep; he loaths his Meat and Drink:
He withers at his Heart, and looks as wan
As the pale spectre of a murder’d 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 mix’d in Mirth, in youthful Pleasure shares,
But sighs when Songs and Instruments he hears. 535
His Spirits are so low, his Voice is drown’d,
He hears as from afar, or in a Swound,
Like the deaf Murmurs of a distant Sound:
Uncomb’d 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 endur’d a Year and more,
Now wholly chang’d from what he was before,
It happen’d once, that, slumbring as he lay, 545
He dreamt (his Dream began at Break of Day)
That Hermes o’er his Head in Air appear’d,
And with soft Words his drooping Spirits cheer’d:
His Hat adorn’d with Wings disclos’d the God,
And in his Hand he bore the Sleep-compelling Rod; 550
Such as he seem’d, when at his Sire’s Command,
On Argus Head he laid the Snaky Wand;
Arise, he said, to conqu’ring Athens go,
There Fate appoints an End of all thy Woe.
The fright awaken’d Arcite with a Start, 555
Against his Bosom bounc’d his heaving Heart;
But soon he said, with scarce-recover’d 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. 560
By chance he spy’d a Mirrour while he spoke,
And gazing there beheld his alter’d Look;
Wondring, he saw his Features and his Hue
So much were chang’d, 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 cloth’d himself in course Array;
A lab’ring Hind in shew: Then forth he went,
And to the Athenian Tow’rs his Journey bent:
One Squire attended in the same Disguise, 575
Made conscious of his Master’s Enterprize.
Arriv’d at Athens, soon he came to Court,
Unknown, unquestion’d in that thick Resort;
Proff’ring for Hire his Service at the Gate,
To drudge, draw Water, and to run or wait. 580
So fair befel him, that for little Gain
He serv’d at first Emilia’s Chamberlain;
And, watchful all Advantages to spy,
Was still at Hand, and in his Master’s Eye;
And as his Bones were big, and Sinews strong, 585
Refus’d no Toil that could to Slaves belong;
But from deep Wells with Engines Water drew,
And us’d his Noble Hands the Wood to hew.
He pass’d a Year at least attending thus
On Emily, and call’d Philostratus. 590
But never was there Man of his Degree
So much esteem’d, so well belov’d as he.
So gentle of Condition was he known,
That through the Court his Courtesie was blown:
All think him worthy of a greater Place, 595
And recommend him to the Royal Grace;
That exercis’d within a higher Sphere,
His Vertues more conspicuous might appear.
Thus by the general Voice was Arcite prais’d,
And by Great Theseus to high Favour rais’d; 600
Among his Menial Servants first enroll’d,
And largely entertain’d with Sums of Gold:
Besides what secretly from Thebes was sent,
Of his own Income, and his Annual Rent.
This well employ’d, he purchas’d Friends and Fame, 605
But cautiously conceal’d from whence it came.
Thus for three Years he liv’d with large Increase,
In Arms of Honour, and Esteem in Peace;
To Theseus Person he was ever near,
And Theseus for his Vertues held him dear.
The End of the First Book. 610
Palamon and Arcite: or the Knight’s Tale. Book II
WHILE Arcite lives in Bliss, the Story turns
Where hopeless Palamon in Prison mourns.
For six long Years immur’d, the captive Knight
Had dragg’d his Chains, and scarcely seen the Light:
Lost Liberty, and Love at once he bore; 5
His Prison pain’d 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 prepar’d before 15
Of Wine and Honey mix’d, with added Store
Of Opium; to his Keeper this he brought,
Who swallow’d unaware the sleepy Draught,
And snor’d secure till Morn, his Senses bound
In Slumber, and in long Oblivion drown’d. 20
Short was the Night, and careful Palamon
Sought the next Covert e’er the rising Sun.
A thick spread Forest near the City lay,
To this with lengthened Strides he took his Way,
(For far he cou’d not fly, and fear’d 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
Was all the Theban Race in Arms to join, 30
And war on Theseus, till he lost his Life,
Or won the Beauteous Emily to Wife.
Thus while his thoughts the lingring Day beguile,
To gentle Arcite let us turn our Style;
Who little dreamt how nigh he was to Care, 35
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 th’ Horizon laugh’d to see the joyous Sight; 40
He with his tepid Rays the Rose renews,
And licks the dropping Leaves, and dries the Dews;
When Arcite left his Bed, resolv’d to pay
Observance to the Month of merry May,
Forth on his fiery Steed betimes he rode, 45
That scarcely prints the Turf on which he trod:
At ease he seem’d, and pransing o’er the Plains,
Turn’d only to the Grove his Horse’s Reins,
The Grove I nam’d before; and lighting there,
A Woodbind Garland sought to crown his Hair; 50
Then turned his Face against the rising Day,
And rais’d his Voice to welcom in the May.
For thee, sweet Month, the Groves green Liv’ries wear:
If not the first, the fairest of the Year:
For thee the Graces lead the dancing Hours, 55
And Nature’s ready Pencil paints the Flow’rs:
When thy short Reign is past, the Fev’rish Sun
The sultry Tropick fears, and moves more slowly on.
So may thy tender Blossoms fear no Blite,
Nor Goats with venom’d Teeth thy Tendrils bite, 60
As thou shalt guide my wandring Feet to find
The fragrant Greens I seek, my Brows to bind.
His Vows address’d, within the Grove he stray’d,
Till Fate, or Fortune, near the Place convey’d
His Steps where secret Palamon was laid. 65
Full little thought of him the gentle Knight,
Who flying Death had there conceal’d his Flight,
In Brakes and Brambles hid, and shunning Mortal Sight;
And less he knew him for his hated Foe,
But fear’d 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 unprepar’d.
Uncautious Arcite thought himself alone, 75
And less than all suspected Palamon,
Who, listning, heard him, while he search’d the Grove,
And loudly sung his Roundelay of Love:
But on the sudden stopp’d, and silent stood,
(As Lovers often muse, and change their Mood;) 80
Now high as Heav’n, and then as low as Hell,
Now 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 alter’d Hue 85
Sunk on the Ground, and from his Bosom drew
A desp’rate Sigh, accusing Heav’n and Fate,
And angry Juno’s unrelenting Hate.
Curs’d 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 involv’d in Cadmus Doom. 95
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 caus’d my Countrys Overthrow
This is not all; for Juno, to my Shame, 100
Has forc’d me to forsake my former Name;
Arcite I was, Philostratus I am.
That side of Heav’n is all my Enemy:
Mars ruin’d Thebes; his Mother ruin’d me.
Of all the Royal Race remains but one 105
Beside my self, th’ 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 cou’d endure;
But Love’s a Malady without a Cure: 110
Fierce Love has pierc’d 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 burn’d the Temple where she was ador’d:
And let it burn, I never will complain,
Pleas’d with my Suff’rings, if you knew my Pain.
At this a sickly Qualm his Heart assail’d,
His Ears ring inward, and his Senses fail’d. 120
No Word miss’d Palamon of all he spoke,
But soon to deadly Pale he changed his Look:
He trembl’d ev’ry Limb, and felt a Smart,
As if cold Steel had glided through his Heart;
Nor longer staid, but starting from his Place, 125
Discover’d stood, and shew’d his hostile Face:
False Traytor, Arcite, Traytor to thy Blood,
Bound by thy sacred Oath to seek my Good,
Now art thou found forsworn for Emily;
And dar’st attempt her Love, for whom I die. 130
So hast thou cheated Theseus with a Wile,
Against thy Vow, returning to beguile
Under a borrow’d Name: As false to me,
So false thou art to him who set thee free
But rest assur’d, that either thou shalt die, 135
Or else renounce thy Claim in Emily:
For though unarm’d I am, and (freed by Chance)
Am here without my Sword, or pointed Lance,
Hope not, base Man, unquestion’d hence to go,
For I am Palamon, thy mortal Foe. 140
Arcite, who heard his Tale and knew the Man,
His sword unsheath’d, and fiercely thus began:
Now, by the Gods who govern Heav’n 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 defie;
Fool, not to know that Love endures no Tie,
And Jove but laughs at Lovers Perjury.
Know, I will serve the fair in thy despight; 150
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;
Chuse thou the best, and leave the worst to me.
And, that at better Ease thou maist abide,
Bedding and Clothes I will this Night provide,
And needful Sustenance, that thou maist be 160
A Conquest better won, and worthy me.
His Promise Palamon accepts; but pray’d,
To keep it better than the first he made.
Thus fair they parted till the Morrows Dawn;
For each had laid his plighted Faith to Pawn. 165
Oh Love! Thou sternly dost thy Pow’r maintain,
And wilt not bear a Rival in thy Reign,
Tyrants and thou all Fellowship disdain.
This was in Arcite prov’d and Palamon:
Both in Despair, yet each would love alone. 170
Arcite return’d, and, as
in Honour ty’d,
His Foe with Bedding, and with Food supply’d;
Then, e’er the Day, two Suits of Armour sought,
Which born before him on his Steed he brought:
Both were of shining Steel, and wrought so pure 175
As might the Strokes of two such Arms endure.
Now, at the Time, and in th’ appointed Place.
The Challenger, and Challeng’d, Face to Face,
Approach; each other from afar they knew,
And from afar their Hatred chang’d their Hue. 180
So stands the Thracian Heardsman 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, 185
And either he must fall in Fight, or I:
This while he thinks, he lifts aloft his Dart;
A gen’rous Chillness seizes ev’ry Part;
The Veins-pour back the Blood, and fortifie the Heart.
Thus pale they meet; their Eyes with Fury burn; 190
None greets; for none the Greeting will return;
But in dumb Surliness, each arm’d with Care
His Foe profest, as Brother of the War;
Then both, no Moment lost, at once advance
Against each other, arm’d with Sword and Lance: 195
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 were bath’d 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 Tyger far’d,
And like a Lion Palamon appear’d:
Or as two Boars whom Love to Battel draws
With rising Bristles and with froathy Jaws 205
Their adverse Breasts with Tusks oblique they wound;
With Grunts and Groans the Forest rings around.
So fought the Knights, and fighting mus abide,
Till Fate an Umpire sends their Diff’rence to decide.
The Pow’r that ministers to God’s Decrees, 210
And executes on Earth what Heav’n foresees
Called Providence, or Chance, or Fatal Sway
Comes with resistless Force, and finds o makes her Way.
Nor Kings, nor Nations, nor united Pow’r
One Moment can retard th’ appointed Hour 215
And some one Day, some wondrous Chance appears,
Which happen’d not in Centuries of Years:
For sure, whate’er we Mortals hate or love,
Or hope, or fear, depends on Pow’rs above:
They move our Appetites to Good or Ill, 220
And by Foresight necessitate the Will.