by John Dryden
A Rain of Flow’rs is from the Windows roll’d.
The Casements are with Golden Tissue spread,
And Horses Hoofs, for Earth, on silken Tap’stry tread. 535
The King goes midmost, and the Rivals ride
In equal Rank, and close his either Side.
Next 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 marshall’d in Degree.
Thus through the Southern Gate they take their Way,
And at the Lists arriv’d e’er Prime of Day.
There, parting from the King, the Chiefs divide,
And wheeling East and West, before their Many ride. 545
Th’ Athenian Monarch mounts his Throne on high,
And after him the Queen, and Emily:
Next these, the Kindred of the Crown are grac’d
With nearer Seats, and Lords by Ladies plac’d.
Scarce were they seated, when with Clamours loud 550
In rush’d at once a rude promiscuous Crowd,
The Guards, and then each other overbare,
And in a Moment throng the spacious Theatre.
Now chang’d the jarring Noise to Whispers low,
As Winds forsaking Seas more softly blow; 555
When at the Western Gate, on which the Car
Is plac’d aloft, that bears the God of War,
Proud Arcite entring arm’d before his Train
Stops at the Barrier, and divides the Plain.
Red was his Banner, and display’d abroad 560
The bloody Colours of his Patron God.
At that self-moment enters Palamon
The Gate of Venus, and the Rising Sun;
Wav’d by the wanton Winds, his Banner flies,
All maiden White, and shares the peoples Eyes. 565
From East to West, look all the World around,
Two Troops so match’d were never to be found:
Such Bodies built for Strength, of equal Age,
In Stature siz’d; so proud an Equipage:
The nicest Eye cou’d no Distinction make, 570
Where lay th’ Advantage, or what Side to take.
Thus rang’d, the Herald for the last proclaims
A Silence, while they answer’d 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 clos’d;
And Chief to Chief, and Troop to Troop oppos’d.
The Heralds last retir’d, and loudly cry’d,
The Fortune of the Field be fairly try’d.
At this the Challenger, with fierce Defie 580
His Trumpet sounds; the Challeng’d 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, 585
And spurring see decrease the middle Space.
A Cloud of Smoke envellops 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 lab’ring in Eclipse, a while they stay,
Till the next Blast of Wind restores the Day.
They look anew: The beauteous Form of Fight
Is chang’d, and War appears a grizly Sight.
Two Troops in fair Array one moment show’d, 595
The next, a Field with fallen Bodies strow’d:
Not half the Number in their Seats are found,
But Men and Steeds lie grov’ling on the Ground.
The points of Spears are stuck within the Shield,
The Steeds without their Riders scour the Field. 600
The Knights unhors’d, on Foot renew the Fight;
The glitt’ring Fauchions cast a gleaming Light;
Hauberks and Helms are hew’d with many a Wound;
Out spins the streaming Blood, and dies 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 floundring, throws the Rider o’er his Head. 610
One rolls along, a Foot-ball to his Foes;
One with a broken Truncheon deals his Blows.
This halting, this disabl’d with his Wound,
In Triumph led, is to the Pillar bound,
Where by the King’s Award he must abide: 615
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 spar’d
His utmost Force, and each forgot to ward. 620
The Head of this was to the Saddle bent,
That other backward to the Crupper sent:
Both were by Turns unhors’d; the jealous Blows
Fall thick and heavy, when on Foot they close.
So deep their Fauchions bite, that ev’ry Stroke 625
Pierc’d to the Quick; and equal Wounds they gave and took.
Born far asunder by the Tides of men,
Like Adamant and Steel they met agen.
So when a Tyger sucks the Bullock’s Blood,
A famish’d Lion issuing from the Wood 630
Roars Lordly fierce, and challenges the Food.
Each claims Possession, neither will obey,
But both their Paws are fasten’d on the Prey;
They bite, they tear; and while in vain they strive,
The Swains come arm’d between, and both to Distance drive. 635
At length, as Fate foredoom’d, and all things tend
By Course of Time to their appointed End;
So when the Sun to West was far declin’d,
And both afresh in mortal Battel join’d,
The strong Emetrius came in Arcite’s Aid, 640
And Palamon with Odds was overlaid:
For turning short, he struck with all his Might
Full on the Helmet of th’ unwary Knight.
Deep was the Wound; he stagger’d with the Blow,
And turn’d him to his unexpected Foe; 645
Whom with such Force he struck, he fell’d him down,
And cleft the Circle of his Golden Crown.
But Arcite’s Men, who now prevail’d in Fight,
Twice Ten at once surround the single Knight:
O’erpower’d 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 tumbl’d on the Plain.
Who now laments but Palamon, compell’d
No more to try the Fortune of the Field! 655
And worse than Death, to view with hateful Eyes
His Rival’s Conquest, and renounce the Prize!
The Royal Judge on his Tribunal plac’d,
Who had beheld the Fight from first to last,
Bad cease the War; pronouncing from on high 660
Arcite of Thebes had won the beauteous Emily.
The Sound of Trumpets to the Voice reply’d,
And round the Royal Lists the Heralds cry’d,
Arcite of Thebes has won the beauteous Bride.
The People rend the Skies with vast Applause; 665
All own the Chief, when Fortune owns the Cause.
Arcite is own’d ev’n by the Gods above,
And conqu’ring Mars insults the Queen of Love.
So laugh’d he when the righ
tful Titan fail’d,
And Jove’s usurping Arms in Heav’n prevail’d. 670
Laugh’d all the Pow’rs who favour Tyranny;
And all the Standing Army of the Sky.
But Venus with dejected Eyes appears,
And weeping, on the Lists, distill’d her Tears;
Her Will refus’d, which grieves a Woman most, 675
And, in her Champion foil’d, the Cause of Love is lost.
Till Saturn said, Fair Daughter, now be still,
The blustring Fool has satisfi’d his Will;
His Boon is given; his Knight has gain’d the Day,
But lost the Prize, th’ Arrears are yet to pay. 680
Thy Hour is come, and mine the Care shall be
To please thy Knight, and set thy Promise free.
Now while the Heralds run the Lists around,
And Arcite, Arcite, Heav’n and Earth resound,
A Miracle (nor less it could be call’d) 685
Their Joy with unexpected Sorrow pall’d.
The Victor Knight had laid his Helm aside,
Part for his Ease, the greater part for Pride:
Bare-headed, popularly low he bow’d,
And paid the Salutations of the Crowd; 690
Then spurring, at full speed, ran endlong on
Where Theseus sat on his Imperial Throne;
Furious he drove, and upward cast his Eye,
Where next the Queen was plac’d his Emily;
Then passing, to the Saddle-bow he bent, 695
A sweet Regard the gracious Virgin lent:
(For Women to the Brave an easie 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 seiz’d with sudden Fright,
And, bounding, o’er the Pummel cast the Knight:
Forward he flew, and pitching on his Head,
He quiver’d with his Feet, and lay for Dead.
Black was his Count’nance in a little Space, 705
For all the Blood was gather’d in his Face.
Help was at Hand; they rear’d him from the Ground,
And from his cumbrous Arms his Limbs unbound;
Then lanc’d a Vein, and watch’d returning Breath;
It came, but clogg’d with Symptoms of his Death. 710
The Saddle-bow the Noble Parts had prest,
All bruis’d and mortifi’d his Manly Breast.
Him still entrancd, and in a Litter laid,
They bore from Field, and to his Bed convey’d.
At length he wak’d; and, with a feeble Cry, 715
The Word he first pronounc’d was Emily.
Mean time the King, though inwardly he mourn’d,
In Pomp triumphant to the Town return’d,
Attended by the Chiefs who fought the Field,
(Now friendly mix’d, and in one Troop compell’d;) 720
Compos’d his Looks to counterfeited Cheer,
And bade them not for Arcite’s Life to fear.
But that which gladded all the Warriour Train,
Though most were sorely wounded, none were slain.
The Surgeons soon despoil’d ‘em of their Arms, 725
And some with Salves they cure, and some with Charms;
Foment the Bruises, and the Pains asswage
And heal their inward Hurts with Sov’reign 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.
None was disgrac’d; for Falling is no Shame;
And Cowardice alone is Loss of Fame.
The vent’rous Knight is from the Saddle thrown, 735
But ’tis the Fault of Fortune, not his own.
If Crowds and Palms the conqu’ring Side adorn,
The Victor under better Stars was born:
The brave Man seeks not popular Applause,
Nor overpower’d with Arms, deserts his Cause; 740
Unsham’d, though foil’d, he does the best he can;
Force is of Brutes, but Honour is of Man.
Thus Theseus smil’d on all with equal Grace,
And each was set according to his Place.
With Ease were reconcil’d the diff’ring Parts, 745
For Envy never dwells in Noble Hearts.
At length they took their Leave, the Time expir’d;
Well pleas’d; and to their sev’ral Homes retir’d.
Mean while, the Health of Arcite still impairs;
From Bad proceeds to Worse, and mocks the Leeches Cares: 750
Swoln is his Breast, his inward Pains increase;
All Means are us’d, and all without Success.
The clotted Blood lies heavy on his Heart,
Corrupts, and there remains in spite of Art:
Nor breathing Veins nor Cupping will prevail; 755
All outward Remedies and inward fail:
The Mold of Natures Fabrick is destroy’d,
Her Vessels discompos’d, her Vertue void:
The Bellows of his Lungs begins to swell:
All out of frame is ev’ry secret Cell, 760
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 abandon’d Life,
Nor Vomits upward Aid, nor downward Laxatife. 765
The midmost Region better’d, and destroy’d,
When Nature cannot work, th’ Effect of Art is void.
For Physick can but mend our crazie State,
Patch an old Building, not a new create.
Arcite is Doom’d to die in all his Pride, 770
Must leave his Youth, and yield his beauteous Bride,
Gain’d hardly, against Right, and unenjoy’d.
When ’twas declar’d, all Hope of Life was past,
Conscience, that of all Physick works the last,
Causd him to send for Emily in haste. 775
With her, at his Desire, came Palamon;
Then, on his Pillow rais’d, 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; 780
But to your Service I bequeath my Ghost;
Which, from this mortal Body when unty’d,
Unseen, unheard, shall hover at your Side;
Nor fright you waking, nor your Sleep offend,
But wait officious, and your Steps attend. 785
How I have lov’d, excuse my faltring 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 Heav’n had put you in my Pow’r; 790
Fate could not chuse a more malicious Hour!
What greater Curse cou’d 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 with’ring in the Grave! 795
Never, O 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 bless’d before my Death.
Farewell; but take me dying in your Arms, 800
’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 embrac’d
Am pleas’d to die; but hear me speak my last. 805
Ah! my sweet Foe, for you, and you alone,
&nb
sp; I broke my Faith with injur’d Palamon.
But Love the Sense of Right and Wrong confounds;
Strong Love and proud Ambition have no Bounds.
And much I doubt, shou’d Heav’n my Life prolong, 810
I shou’d return to justifie my Wrong;
For while my former Flames remain within,
Repentance is but want of Pow’r to Sin.
With mortal Hatred I pursu’d his Life,
Nor he nor you were guilty of the Strife; 815
Nor I, but as I lov’d; Yet all combin’d,
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 Moments 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 Vertue, Valour, and for Noble Blood,
Truth, Honour, all that is compriz’d in Good; 825
So help me Heav’n, in all the World is none
So worthy to be lov’d as Palamon.
He loves you too; with such a holy Fire,
As will not, cannot but with Life expire:
Our vow’d Affections both have often try’d, 830
Nor any Love but yours could ours divide,
Then by my Loves inviolable Band,
By my long Suff’ring, 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 exercis’d below his Iron Reign;
Then upward, to the Seat of Life he goes;
Sense fled before him, what he touch’d he froze:
Yet cou’d he not his closing Eyes withdraw, 840
Though less and less of Emily he saw:
So, speechless, for a little space he lay;
Then grasp’d the Hand he held, and sigh’d 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 it self be lost in Certainty.
To live uprightly then is sure the best; 850
To save our selves, 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, asham’d to show his Tears. 855
Emilia shriek’d but once; and then, oppress’d
With Sorrow, sunk upon her Lovers Breast:
Till Theseus in his Arms convey’d with Care