John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

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.