Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

by Homer

  Thus art thou of my counsel out of doubt,

  And now thou wouldest falsely be about

  To love my lady, whom I love and serve,

  And ever shall, until mine hearte sterve1 1die

  Now certes, false Arcite, thou shalt not so

  I lov’d her first, and tolde thee my woe

  As to my counsel, and my brother sworn

  To farther me, as I have told beforn.

  For which thou art y-bounden as a knight

  To helpe me, if it lie in thy might,

  Or elles art thou false, I dare well sayn,”

  This Arcita full proudly spake again:

  “Thou shalt,” quoth he, “be rather1 false than I, 1sooner

  And thou art false, I tell thee utterly;

  For par amour I lov’d her first ere thou.

  What wilt thou say? 1thou wist it not right now1 1even now thou

  Whether she be a woman or goddess. knowest not1

  Thine is affection of holiness,

  And mine is love, as to a creature:

  For which I tolde thee mine aventure

  As to my cousin, and my brother sworn

  I pose1, that thou loved’st her beforn: 1suppose

  Wost1 thou not well the olde clerke’s saw, 1know’st

  That who shall give a lover any law?

  Love is a greater lawe, by my pan,

  Than may be giv’n to any earthly man:

  Therefore positive law, and such decree,

  Is broke alway for love in each degree

  A man must needes love, maugre his head.

  He may not flee it, though he should be dead,

  1All be she1 maid, or widow, or else wife. 1whether she be1

  And eke it is not likely all thy life

  To standen in her grace, no more than I

  For well thou wost thyselfe verily,

  That thou and I be damned to prison

  Perpetual, us gaineth no ranson.

  We strive, as did the houndes for the bone;

  They fought all day, and yet their part was none.

  There came a kite, while that they were so wroth,

  And bare away the bone betwixt them both.

  And therefore at the kinge’s court, my brother,

  Each man for himselfe, there is no other.

  Love if thee list; for I love and aye shall

  And soothly, leve brother, this is all.

  Here in this prison musten we endure,

  And each of us take his Aventure.”

  Great was the strife and long between these tway,

  If that I hadde leisure for to say;

  But to the effect: it happen’d on a day

  (To tell it you as shortly as I may),

  A worthy duke that hight Perithous

  That fellow was to the Duke Theseus

  Since thilke1 day that they were children lite2 1that 2little

  Was come to Athens, his fellow to visite,

  And for to play, as he was wont to do;

  For in this world he loved no man so;

  And he lov’d him as tenderly again.

  So well they lov’d, as olde bookes sayn,

  That when that one was dead, soothly to sayn,

  His fellow went and sought him down in hell:

  But of that story list me not to write.

  Duke Perithous loved well Arcite,

  And had him known at Thebes year by year:

  And finally at request and prayere

  Of Perithous, withoute ranson

  Duke Theseus him let out of prison,

  Freely to go, where him list over all,

  In such a guise, as I you tellen shall

  This was the forword1, plainly to indite, 1promise

  Betwixte Theseus and him Arcite:

  That if so were, that Arcite were y-found

  Ever in his life, by day or night, one stound1 1moment

  In any country of this Theseus,

  And he were caught, it was accorded thus,

  That with a sword he shoulde lose his head;

  There was none other remedy nor rede1. 1counsel

  But took his leave, and homeward he him sped;

  Let him beware, his necke lieth 1to wed1. 1in pledge1

  How great a sorrow suff’reth now Arcite!

  The death he feeleth through his hearte smite;

  He weepeth, waileth, crieth piteously;

  To slay himself he waiteth privily.

  He said; “Alas the day that I was born!

  Now is my prison worse than beforn:

  1Now is me shape1 eternally to dwell 1it is fixed for me1

  Not in purgatory, but right in hell.

  Alas! that ever I knew Perithous.

  For elles had I dwelt with Theseus

  Y-fettered in his prison evermo’.

  Then had I been in bliss, and not in woe.

  Only the sight of her, whom that I serve,

  Though that I never may her grace deserve,

  Would have sufficed right enough for me.

  O deare cousin Palamon,” quoth he,

  “Thine is the vict’ry of this aventure,

  Full blissfully in prison to endure:

  In prison? nay certes, in paradise.

  Well hath fortune y-turned thee the dice,

  That hast the sight of her, and I th’ absence.

  For possible is, since thou hast her presence,

  And art a knight, a worthy and an able,

  That by some cas1, since fortune is changeable, 1chance

  Thou may’st to thy desire sometime attain.

  But I that am exiled, and barren

  Of alle grace, and in so great despair,

  That there n’is earthe, water, fire, nor air,

  Nor creature, that of them maked is,

  That may me helpe nor comfort in this,

  Well ought I 1sterve in wanhope1 and distress. 1die in despair1

  Farewell my life, my lust1, and my gladness. 1pleasure

  Alas, 1why plainen men so in commune 1why do men so often complain

  Of purveyance of God1, or of Fortune, of God’s providence?1

  That giveth them full oft in many a guise

  Well better than they can themselves devise?

  Some man desireth for to have richess,

  That cause is of his murder or great sickness.

  And some man would out of his prison fain,

  That in his house is of his meinie1 slain. 1servants

  Infinite harmes be in this mattere.

  We wot never what thing we pray for here.

  We fare as he that drunk is as a mouse.

  A drunken man wot well he hath an house,

  But he wot not which is the right way thither,

  And to a drunken man the way is slither1. 1slippery

  And certes in this world so fare we.

  We seeke fast after felicity,

  But we go wrong full often truely.

  Thus we may sayen all, and namely1 I, 1especially

  That ween’d1, and had a great opinion, 1thought

  That if I might escape from prison

  Then had I been in joy and perfect heal,

  Where now I am exiled from my weal.

  Since that I may not see you, Emily,

  I am but dead; there is no remedy.”

  Upon that other side, Palamon,

  When that he wist Arcita was agone,

  Much sorrow maketh, that the greate tower

  Resounded of his yelling and clamour

  The pure1 fetters on his shinnes great 1very

  Were of his bitter salte teares wet.

  “Alas!” quoth he, “Arcita, cousin mine,

  Of all our strife, God wot, the fruit is thine.

  Thou walkest now in Thebes at thy large,

  And of my woe thou 1givest little charge1. 1takest little heed1

  Thou mayst, since thou hast wisdom and manhead1, 1manhood, courage

  Assemble all the folk of our k
indred,

  And make a war so sharp on this country

  That by some aventure, or some treaty,

  Thou mayst have her to lady and to wife,

  For whom that I must needes lose my life.

  For as by way of possibility,

  Since thou art at thy large, of prison free,

  And art a lord, great is thine avantage,

  More than is mine, that sterve here in a cage.

  For I must weep and wail, while that I live,

  With all the woe that prison may me give,

  And eke with pain that love me gives also,

  That doubles all my torment and my woe.”

  Therewith the fire of jealousy upstart

  Within his breast, and hent1 him by the heart 1seized

  So woodly1, that he like was to behold 1madly

  The box-tree, or the ashes dead and cold.

  Then said; “O cruel goddess, that govern

  This world with binding of your word etern1 1eternal

  And writen in the table of adamant

  Your parlement1 and your eternal grant, 1consultation

  What is mankind more 1unto you y-hold1 1by you esteemed

  Than is the sheep, that rouketh1 in the fold! 1lie huddled together

  For slain is man, right as another beast;

  And dwelleth eke in prison and arrest,

  And hath sickness, and great adversity,

  And oftentimes guilteless, pardie1 1by God

  What governance is in your prescience,

  That guilteless tormenteth innocence?

  And yet increaseth this all my penance,

  That man is bounden to his observance

  For Godde’s sake to 1letten of his will1, 1restrain his desire1

  Whereas a beast may all his lust fulfil.

  And when a beast is dead, he hath no pain;

  But man after his death must weep and plain,

  Though in this worlde he have care and woe:

  Withoute doubt it maye standen so.

  “The answer of this leave I to divines,

  But well I wot, that in this world great pine1 is; 1pain, trouble

  Alas! I see a serpent or a thief

  That many a true man hath done mischief,

  Go at his large, and where him list may turn.

  But I must be in prison through Saturn,

  And eke through Juno, jealous and eke wood1, 1mad

  That hath well nigh destroyed all the blood

  Of Thebes, with his waste walles wide.

  And Venus slay’th me on that other side

  For jealousy, and fear of him, Arcite.”

  Now will I stent1 of Palamon a lite2, 1pause 2little

  And let him in his prison stille dwell,

  And of Arcita forth I will you tell.

  The summer passeth, and the nightes long

  Increase double-wise the paines strong

  Both of the lover and the prisonere.

  I n’ot1 which hath the wofuller mistere2. 1know not 2condition

  For, shortly for to say, this Palamon

  Perpetually is damned to prison,

  In chaines and in fetters to be dead;

  And Arcite is exiled 1on his head1 1on peril of his head1

  For evermore as out of that country,

  Nor never more he shall his lady see.

  You lovers ask I now this question,

  Who lieth the worse, Arcite or Palamon?

  The one may see his lady day by day,

  But in prison he dwelle must alway.

  The other where him list may ride or go,

  But see his lady shall he never mo’.

  Now deem all as you liste, ye that can,

  For I will tell you forth as I began.

  When that Arcite to Thebes comen was,

  Full oft a day he swelt1, and said, “Alas!” 1fainted

  For see this lady he shall never mo’.

  And shortly to concluden all his woe,

  So much sorrow had never creature

  That is or shall be while the world may dure.

  His sleep, his meat, his drink is 1him byraft1, 1taken away from him1

  That lean he wex1, and dry as any shaft. 1became

  His eyen hollow, grisly to behold,

  His hue sallow, and pale as ashes cold,

  And solitary he was, ever alone,

  And wailing all the night, making his moan.

  And if he hearde song or instrument,

  Then would he weepen, he might not be stent1. 1stopped

  So feeble were his spirits, and so low,

  And changed so, that no man coulde know

  His speech, neither his voice, though men it heard.

  And in his gear1 for all the world he far’d 1behaviour

  Not only like the lovers’ malady

  Of Eros, but rather y-like manie1 1madness

  Engender’d of humours melancholic,

  Before his head in his cell fantastic.

  And shortly turned was all upside down,

  Both habit and eke dispositioun,

  Of him, this woful lover Dan1 Arcite. 1Lord

  Why should I all day of his woe indite?

  When he endured had a year or two

  This cruel torment, and this pain and woe,

  At Thebes, in his country, as I said,

  Upon a night in sleep as he him laid,

  Him thought how that the winged god Mercury

  Before him stood, and bade him to be merry.

  His sleepy yard1 in hand he bare upright; 1rod

  A hat he wore upon his haires bright.

  Arrayed was this god (as he took keep1) 1notice

  As he was when that Argus took his sleep;

  And said him thus: “To Athens shalt thou wend1; 1go

  There is thee shapen1 of thy woe an end.” 1fixed, prepared

  And with that word Arcite woke and start.

  “Now truely how sore that e’er me smart,”

  Quoth he, “to Athens right now will I fare.

  Nor for no dread of death shall I not spare

  To see my lady that I love and serve;

  In her presence 1I recke not to sterve.1” 1do not care if I die1

  And with that word he caught a great mirror,

  And saw that changed was all his colour,

  And saw his visage all in other kind.

  And right anon it ran him ill his mind,

  That since his face was so disfigur’d

  Of malady the which he had endur’d,

  He mighte well, if that he 1bare him low,1 1lived in lowly fashion1

  Live in Athenes evermore unknow,

  And see his lady wellnigh day by day.

  And right anon he changed his array,

  And clad him as a poore labourer.

  And all alone, save only a squier,

  That knew his privity1 and all his cas2, 1secrets 2fortune

  Which was disguised poorly as he was,

  To Athens is he gone the nexte1 way. 1nearest

  And to the court he went upon a day,

  And at the gate he proffer’d his service,

  To drudge and draw, what so men would devise1. 1order

  And, shortly of this matter for to sayn,

  He fell in office with a chamberlain,

  The which that dwelling was with Emily.

  For he was wise, and coulde soon espy

  Of every servant which that served her.

  Well could he hewe wood, and water bear,

  For he was young and mighty for the nones1, 1occasion

  And thereto he was strong and big of bones

  To do that any wight can him devise.

  A year or two he was in this service,

  Page of the chamber of Emily the bright;

  And Philostrate he saide that he hight.

  But half so well belov’d a man as he

  Ne was there never in court of his degree.

  He was so gentle of conditioun,
/>   That throughout all the court was his renown.

  They saide that it were a charity

  That Theseus would 1enhance his degree1, 1elevate him in rank1

  And put him in some worshipful service,

  There as he might his virtue exercise.

  And thus within a while his name sprung

  Both of his deedes, and of his good tongue,

  That Theseus hath taken him so near,

  That of his chamber he hath made him squire,

  And gave him gold to maintain his degree;

  And eke men brought him out of his country

  From year to year full privily his rent.

  But honestly and slyly1 he it spent, 1discreetly, prudently

  That no man wonder’d how that he it had.

  And three year in this wise his life be lad1, 1led

  And bare him so in peace and eke in werre1, 1war

  There was no man that Theseus had so derre1. 1dear

  And in this blisse leave I now Arcite,

  And speak I will of Palamon a lite1. 1little

  In darkness horrible, and strong prison,

  This seven year hath sitten Palamon,

  Forpined1, what for love, and for distress. 1pined, wasted away

  Who feeleth double sorrow and heaviness

  But Palamon? that love distraineth1 so, 1afflicts

  That wood1 out of his wits he went for woe, 1mad

  And eke thereto he is a prisonere

  Perpetual, not only for a year.

  Who coulde rhyme in English properly

  His martyrdom? forsooth1, it is not I; 1truly

  Therefore I pass as lightly as I may.

  It fell that in the seventh year, in May

  The thirde night (as olde bookes sayn,

  That all this story tellen more plain),

  Were it by a venture or destiny

  (As when a thing is shapen1 it shall be), 1settled, decreed

  That soon after the midnight, Palamon

  By helping of a friend brake his prison,

  And fled the city fast as he might go,

  For he had given drink his gaoler so

  Of a clary , made of a certain wine,

  With 1narcotise and opie1 of Thebes fine, 1narcotics and opium1

  That all the night, though that men would him shake,

  The gaoler slept, he mighte not awake:

  And thus he fled as fast as ever he may.

  The night was short, and 1faste by the day 1close at hand was

  That needes cast he must himself to hide1. the day during which

  And to a grove faste there beside he must cast about, or contrive,

  With dreadful foot then stalked Palamon. to conceal himself.1

  For shortly this was his opinion,

  That in the grove he would him hide all day,