So Jupiter have of my soule part,
As in this world right now ne knowe I non
So worthy to ben loved as Palamon,
That serveth yow, and wol don al his lyf.
And if that ever ye shul been a wyf,
Foryet nat Palamon, the gentil man.”
And with that word his speche faille gan,
For from his feet up to his brest was come
The cold of deeth, that hadde him overcome
And yet more-over, in his armes two
The vital strengthe is lost, and al ago.
Only the intellect, with-outen more.
That dwelled in his herte syk and sore,
Gan failen, when the herte felte deeth,
Dusked his eyen two, and failled breeth.
But on his lady yet caste he his ye;
His laste word was, ”mercy, Emelye!”
His spirit chaunged hous, and wente ther,
As I cam never, I can nat tellen wher.
Therfor I stinte, I nam no divinistre;
Of soules finde I nat in this registre,
Ne me ne list thilke opiniouns to telle
Of hem, though that they wryten wher they dwelle.
Arcite is cold, ther Mars his soule gye;
Now wol I speken forth of Emelye.
Shrighte Emelye, and howleth Palamon,
And Theseus his suster took anon
Swowninge, and bar hir fro the corps away.
What helpeth it to tarien forth the day,
To tellen how she weep, bothe eve and morwe?
For in swich cas wommen have swich sorwe,
Whan that hir housbonds been from hem ago,
That for the more part they sorwen so,
Or elles fallen in swich maladye,
That at the laste certeinly they dye.
Infinite been the sorwes and the teres
Of olde folk, and folk of tendre yeres,
In al the toun, for deeth of this Theban;
Generosity, and all that belongs to that art—
As Jupiter shall receive my soul when I depart,
So in this world right now I know no one
So worthy to be loved as Palamon,
Who serves you and will do all his life.
And if ever you shall be a wife,
Forget not Palamon, the noble, virtuous man.”
And with that word his speech to fail began,
For from his feet up to his breast was come
The cold of death, that had him overcome,
And yet moreover, in his arms two
The vital strength is lost and all gone.
Only then the intellect, without delay,
That dwelled in his heart sick and sore,
Began failing when the heart felt death.
Dimmed his eyes two, and failed breath,
But on his lady yet cast he his eye,
His last word was, ”Mercy, Emily!”
His spirit changed houses and went there
Where I travelled never; I cannot compare.
Therefore I stop, I am no diviner;
Of souls I find not in this register,
It pleases me not to tell
Of those who write of where they dwell.
Arcita is cold, so Mars may his soul guide.
Now will I speak forth of Emily.
Shrieked Emily and howled Palamon,
And Theseus his sister took anon
Swooning, and bore her from the corpse away.
What does it accomplish to while away the day
To tell how she wept both eve and morn?
For in such case women have such sorrow,
When their husbands from them go,
That many of them sorrow so,
Or else fall in such a malady
That at last certainly they die.
Infinite were the sorrows and the tears
Of old folk and folk of tender years
In all the town, for death of this Theban;
For him ther wepeth bothe child and man;
So greet a weping was ther noon, certayn,
Whan Ector was y-broght, al fresh y-slayn,
To Troye; alias! the pitee that was ther,
Cracching of chekes, rending eek of heer.
“Why woldestow be deed,” thise wommen crye,
“And haddest gold y-nough, and Emelye?”
No man mighte gladen Theseus,
Savinge his olde fader Egeus,
That knew this worldes transmutacioun,
As he had seyn it chaungen up and doun,
Joye after wo, and wo after gladnesse:
And shewed hem ensamples and lyknesse.
“Right as ther deyed never man,” quod he,
“That he ne livede in erthe in som degree,
Right so ther livede never man,” he seyde,
“In al this world, that som tyme he ne deyde.
This world nis but a thurghfare ful of wo,
And we ben pilgrimes, passinge to and fro;
Deeth is an ende of every worldly sore.”
And over al this yet seyde he muchel more
To this effect, ful wysly to enhorte
The peple, that they sholde hem reconforte.
Duk Theseus, with al his bisy cure,
Caste now wher that the sepulture
Of good Arcite may best y-maked be,
And eek most honurable in his degree.
And at the laste he took conclusioun,
That ther as first Arcite and Palamoun
Hadden for love the bataille hem bitwene,
That in that selve grove, swote and grene,
Ther as he hadde his amorous desires,
His compleynt, and for love his hote fires,
He wolde make a fyr, in which th‘office
Funeral he mighte al accomplice;
And leet comaunde anon to hakke and hewe
The okes olde, and leye hem on a rewe
In colpons wel arrayed for to brenne;
His officers with swifte feet they renne
For him there wept both child and man.
So great weeping was there none, certain,
When Hector was brought, all freshly slain,
To Troy. Alas, the pity that was there:
Scratching of cheeks, rending of hair.
“Why did you wish to be dead?” these women cry,
“And had gold enough, and Emily?”
No man might gladden Theseus
Save his old father Egeus,
Who knew this world’s mutation,
And had seen it change both up and down—
Joy after woe, and woe after gladness—
And showed him analogies and examples.
“Just as there never died a man,” said he,
“Who never lived on earth in some degree,
Right so there never lived a man,” he said,
“In all this world, who some time did not die.
This world is nought but a thoroughfare full of woe,
And we be pilgrims, passing to and fro;
Death is an end of every worldly sorrow.”
And beyond all this said he much more
To this effect, full wisely to exhort
The people that they should be comforted.
Duke Theseus, with all his diligent concern,
Considered now where the burial
Of good Arcita may best made be,
And also most honorable in his rank.
And at last he took conclusion,
That there where Arcita and Palamon
For love first battled;
In that same grove, sweet and green,
There where he had his amorous desires,
His lament, and for love his hot fires,
He would make a fire, in which the rites
Funereal he might all conduct;
And gave command anon to hack and hew
The oaks old, and lay them in a row
In pieces we
ll arranged to burn.
His officers with swift feet they ran
And ryde anon at his comaundement.
And after this, Theseus hath y-sent
After a bere, and it al over-spradde
With cloth of gold, the richest that he hadde.
And of the same suyte he cladde Arcite;
Upon his hondes hadde he gloves whyte;
Eek on his heed a croune of laurer grene,
And in his hond a swerd ful bright and kene.
He leyde him bare the visage on the bere,
Therwith he weep that pitee was to here.
And for the peple sholde seen him alle,
Whan it was day, he broghte him to the halle,
That roreth of the crying and the soun.
Tho cam this woful Theban Palamoun,
With flotery berd, and ruggy asshy heres,
In clothes blake, y-dropped al with teres;
And, passing othere of weping, Emelye,
The rewfulleste of al the companye.
In as muche as the service sholde be
The more noble and riche in his degree,
Duk Theseus leet forth three stedes bringe,
That trapped were in steel al gliteringe,
And covered with the armes of daun Arcite.
Up-on thise stedes, that weren grete and whyte,
Ther seten folk, of which oon bar his sheeld,
Another his spere up in his hondes heeld;
The thridde bar with him his bowe Turkeys,
Of brend gold was the cas, and eek the harneys;
And riden forth a pas with sorweful chere
Toward the grove, as ye shul after here.
The nobleste of the Grekes that ther were
Upon hir shuldres carieden the bere,
With slakke pas, and eyen rede and wete,
Thurgh-out the citee, by the maister-strete,
That sprad was al with blak, and
wonder hye
Right of the same is al the strete y-wrye.
Up-on the right hond wente old Egeus,
And on that other syde duk Theseus,
And rode at his commandment.
And after this, Theseus had sent
For a bier, and it all covered
With cloth of gold, the richest that he had,
And in some of the same material he clad Arcita.
Upon his hands he had gloves white,
And on his head a crown of laurel green,
And in his hand a sword full bright and keen.
He lay him, with face uncovered, on the bier;
Therewith he wept that pity was to hear.
And so that the people should him see all,
When it was that day he brought him to the hall,
That roared with the crying and the sound.
Then came this woeful Theban Palamon,
With fluttering beard and unkempt, ashy hair,
In clothes black, all wet with tears;
And surpassing others in weeping, Emily,
The sorrowfulest of all the company.
Inasmuch as the service should be
The more noble and rich according to his rank,
Duke Theseus caused three steeds to be brought,
That outfitted were in steel all glittering
And covered with the coat of arms of lord Arcita.
Upon these steeds, that were great and white,
There sat folk, of whom one bore his shield,
Another his spear up in his hands held,
The third bore with him his bow Turkish—
Of refined gold was the quiver and also the fittings;
And they rode forth at a walk with sorrowful look
Toward the grove, as you shall after hear.
The noblest of the Greeks that there were
Upon their shoulders carried the bier,
With slow pace and eyes red and wet,
Throughout the city by the main street,
That was all spread with shrouding black; and
wondrous high
Right of the same was the street lined.
Upon the right hand went old Egeus,
And on the other side Duke Theseus,
With vessels in hir hand of gold ful fyn,
Al ful of hony, milk, and blood, and wyn;
Eek Palamon, with ful greet companye;
And after that cam woful Emelye,
With fyr in honde, as was that tyme the gyse,
To do th‘office of funeral servyse.
Heigh labour, and ful greet apparaillinge
Was at the service and the fyr-makinge,
That with his grene top the heven raughte,
And twenty fadme of brede the armes straughte;
This is to seyn, the bowes were so brode.
Of stree first ther was leyd ful many a lode.
But how the fyr was maked up on highte,
And eek the names how the trees highte,
As ook, firre, birch, asp, alder, holm, popler,
Wilow, elm, plane, ash, box, chasteyn, lind, laurer,
Mapul, thorn, beech, hasel, ew, whippel-tree,
How they weren feld, shal nat be told for me;
Ne how the goddes ronnen up and doun,
Disherited of hir habitacioun,
In which they woneden in reste and pees,
Nymphes, Faunes, and Amadrides;
Ne how the bestes and the briddes alle
Fledden for fere, whan the wode was falle;
Ne how the ground agast was of the light,
That was nat wont to seen the sonne bright;
Ne how the fyr was couched first with stree,
And than with drye stokkes cloven a three,
And than with grene wode and spycerye,
And than with cloth of gold and with perrye,
And gerlandes hanging with ful many a flour,
The mirre, th‘encens, with al so greet odour;
Ne how Arcite lay among al this,
Ne what richesse aboute his body is;
Ne how that Emelye, as was the gyse,
Putte in the fyr of funeral servyse;
Ne how she swowned whan men made the fyr,
Ne what she spak, ne what was hir desyr;
Ne what jeweles men in the fyr tho caste,
With vessels in their hands of gold full fine,
All full of honey, milk, and blood, and wine;
And Palamon, with full great company;
And after that came woeful Emily,
With fire in hand, as was that time the rite,
To do the office of funeral service.
Great labor and full great preparation
Was at the service and the firemaking,
That with its green top to heaven reached,
And twenty fathoms in breadth the sides stretched—
That is to say, the boughs were so broad.
Of straw first there was laid many a load;
But how the fire was made in height,
Nor the names how the trees were called—
As oak, fir, birch, aspen, alder, holly, poplar,
Willow, elm, plane, ash, box, chestnut, linden, laurel,
Maple, thorn, beech, hazel, yew, dogwood—
How they were felled shall not be told by me;
Nor how the tree spirits ran up and down,
Disinherited of their habitation,
In which they dwelt in rest and peace—
Nymphs, fauns and hamadryads;
Nor how the beasts and birds all
Fled for fear when the wood was felled;
Nor how the ground aghast was of the light,
That was not accustomed to see the sun bright;
Nor how the fire was laid first with straw,
And then with dry sticks split in three,
And then with green wood and spices,
And then with cloth of gold and with jewels,
And garlands hanging with full many a flower,
&n
bsp; The myrrh, the incense, with all so great odor;
Nor how Arcita lay among all this,
Nor what riches about his body were;
Nor how Emily, as was the rite,
Lit the fire of funeral service;
Nor how she swooned when men made the fire,
Nor what she spoke, nor what was her desire;
Nor what jewels men in the fire cast;
Whan that the fyr was greet and brente faste;
Ne how som caste hir sheeld, and som hir spere,
And of hir vestiments, whiche that they were,
And cuppes ful of wyn, and milk, and blood,
Into the fyr, that brente as it were wood;
Ne how the Grekes with an huge route
Thryës riden al the fyr aboute
Up-on the left hand, with a loud shoutinge,
And thryës with hir speres clateringe;
And thryës how the ladies gonne crye;
Ne how that lad was hom-ward Emelye;
Ne how Arcite is brent to asshen colde;
Ne how that liche-wake was y-holde
Al thilke night, ne how the Grekes pleye
The wake-pleyes, ne kepe I nat to seye;
Who wrastleth best naked, with oille enoynt,
Ne who that bar him best, in no disjoynt.
I wol nat tellen eek how that they goon
Hoom til Athenes, whan the pley is doon;
But shortly to the poynt than wol I wende,
And maken of my longe tale an ende.
By processe and by lengthe of certeyn yeres
Al stinted is the moorning and the teres.
Of Grekes, by oon general assent,
Than semed me ther was a parlement
At Athenes, up-on certeyn poynts and cas;
Among the whiche poynts y-spoken was
To have with certeyn contrees alliaunce,
And have fully of Thebans obeisaunce.
For which this noble Theseus anon
Leet senden after gentil Palamon,
Unwist of him what was the cause and why;
But in his blake clothes sorwefully
He cam at his comaundemente in hye.
Tho sente Theseus for Emelye.
Whan they were set, and hust was al the place,
And Theseus abiden hadde a space
Er any word cam from his wyse brest,
His eyen sette he ther as was his lest,
When the fire was great and burned fast;
Nor how some cast their shields, and some their spears,
And some of the clothing that they wore,
And cups full of milk and wine and blood,
Into the fire that burned as if it were mad;
Nor how the Greeks with a huge company
Thrice rode all the fire about
Upon the left hand, with a loud shouting,
And thrice with their spears clattering;
And thrice how the ladies cried out;
Nor how Emily was homeward led;
Nor how Arcita was burnt to ashes cold;
Canterbury Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 21