10	COWLEY.
	But	when	their	life,	!n	Its	decline,
	loaches	th'	inevitable	line,
	All	the	world's	mortal	to	them	then,
	And	wine	is	aconite	to	men	;
	Nay,	in	Death's	hand,	the	grape-stone	proves
	As	strong	as	thunder	is	in	Jove's.
	ODE,	FROM	CATULLUS.
	ACME	AND	SEPTIMIUS.
	WHILST	on	Septimius'	panting	breast
	(Meaning	nothing	less	than	rest)
	Acme	lean'd	her	loving	head,
	Thus	the	pleas'd	Septimius	said	:
	"	My	dearest	Acme,	if	I	be
	Once	alive,	and	love	not	thee
	With	a	passion	far	above
	All	that	e'er	was	called	love	;
	In	a	Libyan	desert	may
	I	become	some	lion's	prey	;
	Let	him,	Acme,	let	him	tear
	My	breast,	when	Acme	is	not	there.'
	The	god	of	love,	who	stood	to	hear	him
	(The	god	of	love	was	always	near	him)
	Pleas'd	and	tickled	with	the	sound,
	Sneez'd	aloud	;	and	all	around
	The	little	Loves,	that	waited	by,
	Bow'd,	and	blest	the	augury.
	Acme,	enflam'd	with	what	he	said,
	Rear'd	her	gently-bending	head	;
	And,	her	purple	mouth	with	joy
	Stretching	to	the	delicious	boy,
	Twice	(and	twice	could	scarce	suffice)
	She	kist	his	drunken	rolling	eyes.
	"	My	little	life,	my	all	!"	(said	she)
	So	may	we	ever	servants	be
	To	this	best	god,	and	ne'er	retain
	Our	hated	liberty	again	!
	So	may	thy	passion	last	for	me,
	As	I	a	passion	have	for	thce,
	Greater	and	fiercer	much	than	can
	Be	conceiv'd	by	thee	a	man	!
	Into	my	marrow	is	it	gone,
	Fixt	and	settled	in	the	bone	;
	It	reigns	not	only	in	my	heart,
	But	runs,	like	life,	through	every	part."
	She	spoke	;	the	god	of	love	aloud
	Sneez'd	again	;	and	all	the	crowd
	Of	little	Loves,	that	waited	by,
	Bow'd,	and	bless'	d	the	augury.
	This	good	omen	thus	from	Heaven
	Like	a	happy	signal	given,
	Their	loves	and	lives	(all	four)	embrace,
	And	hand	in	hand	run	all	the	race.
	To	poor	Septimius	(who	did	now
	Nothing	else	but	Acme	grow)
	Acme's	bosom	was	alone
	The	whole	world's	imperial	throne	;
	And	to	faithful	Acme's	mind
	Septimius	was	all	human-kind.
	If	the	gods	would	please	to	be
	But	advis'd	for	once	by	me.
	I'd	advise	them,	when	they	spy
	Any	illustrious	piety,
	To	reward	her,	if	it	be	she
	To	reward	him,	if	it	be	he
	With	such	a	husband,	such	a	wife	;
	With	Acme's	and	Septiraius'	life.
	THE	COMPLAINT.
	IN	a	deep	vision's	intellectual	scene,
	Beneath	a	bower	for	sorrow	made,
	Tli'	uncomfortable	shade
	Of	the	black	yew's	unlucky	green,
	Mixt	with	the	mourning	willow's	careful	grey,
	Where	reverend	Cham	cuts	out	his	famous	way,
	The	melancholy	Cowley	lay	:
	And	lo	!	a	Muse	appear'd	to	's	closed	sight,
	(The	Muses	oft	in	lands	of	vision	play,)
	Body'd,	array'd,	and	seen,	by	an	internal	light.
	A	golden	harp	with	silver	strings	she	bore	;
	A	wondrous	hieroglyphic	robe	she	wore,
	In	which	all	colours	and	all	figures	were,
	That	Nature	or	that	Fancy	can	create,
	That	Art	can	never	imitate	;
	And	with	loose	pride	it	wanton'd	in	the	air.
	In	such	a	dress,	in	such	a	well-cloth'd	dream,
	She	us'd,	of	old,	near	fair	Ismenus'	stream,
	Pindar,	her	Theban	favourite,	to	meet	;
	A	crown	was	on	her	head,	and	wings	were	on	her
	feet.
	She	touch'	d	him	with	her	harp,	and	rais'd	him	from
	the	ground;
	The	shaken	strings	melodiously	resound.
	"	Art	thou	return'd	at	last,"	said	she,
	ft	To	this	forsaken	place	and	me	?
	Thou	prodigal	!	who	didst	so	loosely	waste
	Of	all	thy	youthful	years	the	good	estate	;
	Art	thou	return'd	here,	to	repent	too	late,
	And	gather	husks	of	learning	up	at	last,
	Now	the	rich	harvest-time	of	life	is	past,
	And	Winter	marches	on	so	fast	?
	But,	when	I	meant	t'	adopt	thee	for	my	son,
	And	did	as	learn'd	a	portion	assign,
	As	ever	any	of	the	mighty	Nine
	Had	to	their	dearest	children	done	;
	When	I	resolv'd	t'	exalt	thy	anointed	name,
	Among	the	spiritual	lords	of	peaceful	fame	;
	Thou,	changeling	!	thou,	bewitch'd	with	noise	and
	show,
	Would'	st	into	courts	and	cities	from	me	go	;
	Would'	st	see	the	world	abroad,	and	have	a	share
	In	all	the	follies	and	the	tumults	there	:
	Thou	would'	st,	forsooth,	be	something	in	a	state,
	And	business	thou	would'st	find,	and	would'st
	create	;
	Business	!	the	frivolous	pretence
	Of	human	lusts,	to	shake	off'	innocence	;
	Business	!	the	grave	impertinence	;
	Business	!	the	thing	which	I	of	all	things	hate	;
	Business	!	the	contradiction	of	thy	fate.
	"	Go,	renegade	!	cast	up	thy	account,
	And	see	to	what	amount
	Thy	foolish	gains	by	quitting	me	:
	The	sale	of	knowledge,	fame,	and	liberty,
	The	fruits	of	thy	unlearn'd	apostacy.
	Thou	thought'st,	if	once	the	public	storm	were
	past,


ALEXANDER'S	FKAST.
	161
	Bacchus'	blessings	are	a	treasure,
	Drinking	is	(lie-	soldier's	pleasure	;
	Rich	the	treasure,
	Sweet	the	pleasure	;
	Sweet	is	pleasure	after	pain.
	Sooth'd	with	the	sound,	the	king	grew	vain	;
	Fought	all	his	battles	o'er	again	;	[the	slain.
	And	thrice	he	routed	all	his	foes	;	and	thrice	he	slew
	The	master	saw	the	madness	rise	;
	His	glowing	cheeks,	his	ardent	eyes	;
	And,	while	he	Heaven	and	Earth	defy'd,
	Chang'd	his	hand,	and	check'd	his	pride.
	He	chose	a	mournful	Muse
	Soft	pity	to	infuse	:
	He	sung	Darius	great	and	good,
	By	too	severe	a	fate,
	Fallen,	fallen,	fallen,	fallen,
	Fallen	from	his	high	estate,
	And	weltring	in	his	blood	;
	Deserted,	at	his	utmost	need,
	By	those	his	former	bounty	fed	:
	On	the	bare	earth	expos'd	he	lies,
	.	With	not	a	friend	to	close	his	eyes.
	With	downcast	looks	the	joyless	victor	sate,
	Revolving	in	his	alter'd	soul
	The	various	turns	of	Chance	below	;
	And,	now	and	then,	a	sigh	he	stole	;
	And	tears	began	to	flow.
	Revolving	in	his	alter'd	soul
	The	various	turns	of	Chance	below	;
	And,	now	and	then,	a	sigh	he	stole	;
	And	tears	began	to	flow.
	The	mighty	master	snuTd,	to	see
	That	love	was	in	the	next	degree	:
	'Twas	but	a	kindred	sound	to	move,
	For	pity	melts	the	mind	to	love.
	Softly	sweet,	in	Lydian	measures,
	Soon	he	sooth	'd	his	soul	to	pleasures.
	War,	he	sung,	is	toil	and	trouble	;
	Honour	but	an	empty	bubble	;
	Never	ending,	still	beginning,
	Fighting	still,	and	still	destroying	;
	If	the	world	be	worth	thy	winning,
	Think,	O	think,	it	worth	enjoying:
	Lovely	Tliais	sits	beside	thee,
	Take	the	good	the	gods	provide	thee.
	The	many	rend	the	skies	with	loud	applause	;
	So	Love	was	crown'd,	but	Music	won	the	cause.
	The	prince,	unable	to	conceal	his	pain,
	Gaz'd	on	the	fair
	Who	caus'd	his	care,
	And	sigh'd	and	look'd,	sigh'd	and	look'd,
	Sigh'd	and	look'd,	and	sigh'd	again	:
	At	length,	with	love	and	wine	at	once	oppress'd,
	The	vanquish'd	victor	sunk	upon	her	breast.
	The	prince,	unable	to	conceal	his	pain,
	Gaz'd	on	the	fair
	Who	caus'd	his	care,
	And	sigh'd	and	look'd,	sigh'd	and	look'd,
	Sigh'd	and	look'd,	and	sigh'd	again	:
	At	length,	with	love	and	wine	at	once	oppress'd,
	The	vanquish'd	victor	sunk	upon	her	breast.
	Now	strike	the	golden	lyre	again:
	A	louder	yet,	and	yet	a	louder	strain,
	ireak	his	bands	of	sleep	asunder,
	And	rouse	him,	like	a	rattling	peal	of	thunder.
	Hark,	hark,	the	horrid	sound
	Has	rais'd	up	his	head	!
	As	awak'd	from	the	dead,
	And	amaz'd,	he	stares	around,
	levenge,	revenge,	Timotheus	cries,
	See	the	Furies	arise	:
	See	the	snakes	that	they	rear,
	How	they	hiss	in	their	hair,
	And	the	sparkles	that	flash	from	their	eyes	!
	Behold	a	ghastly	band,
	Each	a	<orch	in	his	hand	!
	Those	are	Grecian	ghosts,	that	in	battle	were	slain,
	And	unbury'd	remain
	Inglorious	on	the	plain	:
	Give	the	vengeance	due
	To	the	valiant	crew.
	Behold	how	they	toss	their	torches	on	liigh,
	How	they	point	to	the	Persian	abodes,
	And	glittering	temples	of	their	hostile	gods.
	The	princes	applaud,	with	a	furious	joy	;
	And	the	king	seiz'd	a	flambeau	with	zeal	to	destroy	;
	Thais	led	the	way,
	To	light	him	to	his	prey,
	And,	like	another	Helen,	ftr'd	another	Troy.
	And	the	king	seiz'd	a	flambeau	with	zeal	to	destrry	;
	Thais	led	the	way,
	To	light	him	to	his	prey,
	And,	like	another	Helen,	fir'd	another	Troy.
	Tims,	long	ago,
	Ere	heaving	bellows	learn'd	to	blow,
	While	organs	yet	were	mute	;
	Timotheus,	to	his	breathing	flute,
	And	sounding	lyre,
	Could	swell	the	soul	to	rage,	or	kindle	soft	desire.
	At	last	divine	Cecilia	came,
	Inventress	of	the	vocal	frame	;
	The	sweet	enthusiast,	from	her	sacred	store,
	Enlarg'd	the	former	narrow	bounds,
	And	added	length	to	solemn	sounds,
	With	Nature's	mother-	wit,	and	arts	unknown	before.
	Let	old	Timotheus	yield	the	prize,
	Or	both	divide	the	crown	;
	He	rais'd	a	mortal	to	the	skies	;
	She	drew	an	angel	down.
	GRAND	CHORUS.
	At	last	divine	Cecilia	came,
	Inventress	of	the	vocal	frame	;
	The	sweet	enthusiast,	from	her	sacred	store,
	Enlarg'd	the	former	narrow	bounds,
	And	added	length	to	solemn	sounds,
	With	Nature's	mother-	wit,	and	arts	unknown	before.
	Let	old	Timotheus	yield	the	prize,
	Or	both	divide	the	crown	;
	He	rais'd	a	mortal	to	the	skies	;
	She	drew	an	angel	down.
	M


DRYDEN.
	BOOK	I.
	PALAMON	AND	ARCITE:
	OR	THE	KNIGHT	'$	TAI.E.
	BOOK	I.
	IN	days	of	old,	there	liv'd,	of	mighty	fame,
	A	valiant	prince,	and	Theseus	was	his	name	:
	A	chief,	who	more	in	feats	of	arms	excell'd,
	The	rising	nor	the	setting	Sun	beheld.
	Of	Athens	he	was	lord;	much	land	he	won,
	And	added	foreign	countries	to	his	crown.
	In	Scythia	with	the	warrior	queen	he	strove,
	Whom	first	by	force	he	conquered,	then	by	love	;
	He	brought	in	triumph	back	the	beauteous	dame,
	With	whom	her	sister,	fair	Emilia,	came.
	With	honour	to	his	home	let	Theseus	ride,
	With	Love	to	friend,	and	Fortune	for	his	guide,
	And	his	victorious	army	at	his	side.
	I	pass	their	warlike	pomp,	their	proud	array,
	Their	shouts,	their	songs,	their	welcome	on	the	way	.
	But,	were	it	not	too	long,	I	would	recite
	The	feats	of	Amazons,	the	fatal	fight
	Betwixt	the	hardy	queen	and	hero	knight	;
	The	town	besieg'd,	and	how	much	blood	it	cost
	The	female	army	and	th'	Athenian	host	j
	The	spousals	of	Hippolita,	the	queen	;
	What	tilts	and	turneys	at	the	feast	were	seen	;
	The	storm	at	their	return,	the	ladies'	fear	:
	But	these,	and	other	things,	I	must	forbear.
	The	field	is	spacious	I	design	to	sow,
	With	oxen	far	unfit	to	draw	the	plow	:
	The	remnant	of	my	tale	is	of	a	length
	To	tire	your	patience,	and	to	waste	my	strength	;
	And	trivial	accidents	shall	be	forborn,
	That	others	may	have	time	to	take	their	turn	;
	As	was	at	first	enjoin'd	us	by	mine	host,
	That	he	whose	tale	is	best,	and	pleases	most,
	Should	win	his	supper	at	our	common	cost.
	And	therefore	where	I	left,	I	will	pursue
	This	ancient	story,	whether	false	or	true,
	In	hope	it	may	be	mended	with	a	new.
	The	prince	I	mentioned,	full	of	high	renown,
	In	this	array	drew	near	th'	Athenian	town	;
	When,	in	his	pomp	and	utmost	of	his	pride,
	Marching,	he	chanc'd	to	cast	his	eye	aside,
	And	saw	a	choir	of	mourning	dames,	who	lay
	By	two	and	two	across	the	common	way	:
	At	his	approach	they	rais'd	a	rueful	cry,
	And	beat	their	breasts,	and	held	their	hands	on	high,
	Creeping	and	crying,	till	they	seiz'd	at	last
	His	courser's	bridle,	and	his	feet	embrac'd.
	"	Tell	me,"	said	Theseus,	"	what	and	whence
	you	are,
	And	why	this	funeral	pageant	you	prepare	?
	Is	this	the	welcome	of	my	worthy	deeds,
	To	meet	my	triumph	in	ill-omen'd	weeds	?
	Or	envy	you	my	praise,	and	would	destroy
	With	grief	my	pleasures,	and	pollute	my	joy	?
	Or	are	you	injur'd,	and	demand	relief	?
	Name	your	request,	and	I	will	ease	your	grief."
	The	most	in	years	of	all	the	mourning	train
	Began	(but	swooned	first	away	for	pain)	;
	Then	scarce	recover'd	spoke	:	"	Nor	envy	we
	Thy	great	renown,	nor	grudge	thy	victory	;
	'Tis	thine,	O	king,	th'	afflicted	to	redress,
	And	Fame	has	fill'd	the	world	with	thy	success	:
	We,	wretched	women,	sue	for	that	alone,
	Wliich	of	thy	goodness	is	refus'd	to	none	;
	Let	fall	some	drops	of	pity	on	our	grief,
	If	what	we	beg	be	just,	and	we	deserve	relief:
	For	none	of	us,	who	now	thy	grace	implore,
	But	held	the	rank	of	sovereign	queen	before	;
	Till,	thanks	to	giddy	Chance,	which	never	bears,
	That	mortal	bliss	should	last	for	length	of	years,
	She	cast	us	headlong	from	our	high	estate,
	And	here	iri	hope	of	thy	return	we	wait	:
	And	long	have	waited	in	the	temple	nigh,
	Built	to	the	gracious	goddess	Clemency.
	But	reverence	thou	the	power	whose	name	it	bears,
	Relieve	th'	oppress'd,	and	wipe	the	widow's	tears.
	I,	wretched	I,	have	other	fortune	seen,
	The	wife	of	Capaneus,	and	once	a	queen	:
	At	Thebes	he	fell,	curst	be	the	fatal	day	'
	And	all	the	rest	thou	seest	in	this	array
	To	make	their	moan,	their	lords	in	battle	lost
	Before	that	town,	besieg'd	by	our	confederate	host	:
	But	Creon,	old	and	impious,	who	commands
	The	Theban	city,	and	usurps	the	lands,
	Denies	the	rites	of	funeral	fires	to	those
	Whose	breathless	bodies	yet	he	calls	his	foes.
	Unburn'd,	unbury'd,	on	a	heap	they	lie	;
	Such	is	their	fate,	and	such	his	tyranny	;
	No	friend	has	leave	to	bear	away	the	dead,
	But	with	their	lifeless	limbs	his	hounds	are	fed."
	At	this	she	shriek	'd	aloud	;	the	mournful	train
	Echo'd	her	grief,	and,	groveling	on	the	plain,
	With	groans,	and	hands	upheld,	to	move	his	mind.
	Besought	his	pity	to	their	helpless	kind	!
	The	prince	was	touch'd,	his	tears	began	to	flow,
	And,	as	his	tender	heart	would	break	in	two,
	He	sigh'd,	and	could	not	but	their	fate	deplore,
	So	wretched	now,	so	fortunate	before.
	Then	lightly	from	his	lofty	steed	he	flew,
	And	raising,	one	by	one,	the	suppliant	crew,
	To	comfort	each,	full	solemnly	he	swore,
	That	by	the	faith	which	knights	to	knighthood	bore,
	And	whate'er	else	to	chivalry	belongs,
	He	would	not	cease,	till	he	reveng'd	their	wrongs	:
	That	Greece	should	see	perform'd	whatjie	declar'd	j
	And	cruel	Creon	find	his	just	reward.
	He	said	no	more,	but,	shunning	all	delay,
	Rode	on	;	nor	enter'd	Athens	on	his	way	:
	But	left	his	sister	and	his	queen	behind,
	And	wav'd	his	royal	banner	in	the	wind	:
	Where	in	an	argent	field	the	god	of	war	-
	Was	drawn	triumphant	on	his	iron	car	;
	Red	was	his	sword,	and	shield,	and	whole	attire,
	And	all	the	godhead	seem'd	to	glow	with	fire	;
	Ev'n	the	ground	glitter'd	where	the	standard	flew,
	And	the	green	grass	was	dy'd	to	sanguine	hue.
	High	on	his	pointed	lance	his	pennon	bore
	His	Cretan	fight,	the	conquer'd	Minotaur:
	The	soldiers	shout	around	with	generous	rage,
	And	in	that	victory	their	own	presage.
	He	prais'd	their	ardour	;	inly	pleas'd	to	see
	His	host	the	flower	of	Grecian	chivalry.
	All	day	he	march'd	;	and	all	th'	ensuing	night	;
	And	saw	the	city	with	returning	light
	The	process	of	the	war	I	need	not	tell,
	How	Theseus	conquer'd,	and	how	Creon	fell	:
	Or	after,	how	by	storm	the	walls	were	won,
	Or	how	the	victor	sack'd	and	burn'd	the	town	:
	How	to	the	ladies	he	restor'd	again
	The	bodies	of	their	lords	in	battle	slain	:
	And	with	what	ancient	rites	they	were	interr'd	;
	All	these	to	fitter	times	shall	be	deferr'd	:
	I	spare	the	widows'	tears,	their	woeful	cries,
	And	howling	at	their	husbands'	obsequies	;


BOOK	I.
	PALAMON	AND	ARCITE.
	How	Theseus	at	these	funerals	did	assist,
	And	with	what	gifts	die	mourning	dames	dismiss'd.
	Thus	when	the	victor	chief	had	Creon	slain,
	And	conquer'd	Thebes,	he	pitdi'd	upon	the	plain
	His	mighty	camp,	and,	when	the	day	return'd,
	The	country	wasted,	and	the	hamlets	burn'd,
	And	left	the	pillagers,	to	rapine	bred,
	Without	control	to	strip	and	spoil	the	dead.
	There,	in	a	heap	of	slain,	among	the	rest
	Two	youthful	knights	they	found	beneath	a	load
	oppress'd
	Of	slaughter'd	foes,	whom	first	to	.death	they	sent,
	The	trophies	of	their	strength,	a	bloody	monument.
	Both	fair,	and	both	of	royal	blood	they	seem'd,
	Whom	kinsmen	to	the	crown	the	heralds	deem'd	;
	That	day	in	equal	arms	they	fought	for	fame	;
	Their	swords,	their	shields,	their	surcoats,	were	the
	same.
	Close	by	each	other	laid,	they	press'd	the	ground,
	Their	manly	bosoms	pierc'd	with	many	a	griesly
	wound	;
	Nor	well	alive,	nor	wholly	dead	they	were,
	But	some	faint	signs	of	feeble	life	appear	:
	The	wandering	breath	was	on	the	wing	to	part,
	Weak	was	the	pulse,	and	hardly	heav'd	the	heart.
	These	two	were	sisters'	sons	;	and	Arcite	one,
	Much	fam'd	in	fields,	with	valiant	Falamon.
	From	these	their	costly	arms	the	spoilers	rent,
	And	softly	both	convey	'd	to	Tlieseus'	tent	:
	Whom,	known	of	Creon's	line,	and	cur'd	with	care,
	He	to	his	city	sent	as	prisoners	of	the	war,
	Hopeless	of	ransom,	and	condemn'd	to	lie
	In	durance,	doom'd	a	lingering	death	to	die.
	This	done,	he	march'd	away	with	warlike	sound,
	And	to	his	Athens	turn'd	with	laurels	crown'd,
	Where	happy	long	he	liv'd,	much	lov'd,	and	more
	renown	'd.
	But	in	a	tower,	and	never	to	be	loos'd,
	The	woeful	captive	kinsmen	are	enclos'd.
	Thus	year	by	year	they	pass,	and	day	by	day,
	Till	once,	'twas	on	the	morn	of	cheerful	May,
	The	young	Emilia,	fairer	to	be	seen
	Than	the	fair	lily	on	the	flowery	green,
	More	fresh	than	May	herself	in	blossoms	new,
	For	with	the	rosy	colour	strove	her	hue,
	Wak'd,	as	her	custom	was,	before	the	day,
	To	do	th'	observance	due	to	sprightly	May	:
	For	sprightly	May	commands	our	youth	to	keep
	The	vigils	of	her	night,	and	breaks	their	sluggard
	sleep;
	Each	gentle	breast	with	kindly	warmth	she	moves	;
	Inspires	new	flames,	revives	extinguish'd	loves.
	In	this	remembrance	Emily,	ere	day,
	Arose,	and	dress'd	herself	in	rich	array	;
	Fresh	as	the	month,	and	as	the	morning	fair	;
	Adown	her	shoulders	fell	her	length	of	hair	-.
	A	ribband	did	the	braided	tresses	bind,
	The	rest	was	loose,	and	wanton'd	in	the	wind.
	Aurora	had	but	newly	chas'd	the	night,
	And	purpled	o'er	the	sky	with	blushing	light,
	When	to	the	garden	walk	she	took	her	way,
	To	sport	and	trip	along	in	cool	of	day,
	And	offer	maiden	vows	in	honour	of	the	May.
	At	every	turn,	she	made	a	little	stand,
	And	thrust	among	the	thorns	her	lily	hand
	To	draw	the	rose	;	and	every	rose	she	drew,
	She	shook	the	stalk,	and	brush'd	away	the	dew	:
	Then	party-colour'd	flowers	of	white	and	red
	She	wove,	to	make	a	garland	for	her	head	:
	This	done,	she	sung	and	carol'd	out	so	clear,
	That	men	and	angels	might	rejoice	to	hear	.
	Ev'n	wondering	Philomel	forgot	to	sinjr.
	And	U-arn'd	from	IHT	to	welcome-in	the	Spring.
	The	tower,	of	which	before	was	mention	made,
	Within	whose	keep	the	captive	knights	were	laid,
	Built	of	a	large	extent,	and	strong	withal,
	Was	one	partition	of	the	palace	wall	:
	The	garden	was	enclos'd	within	the	square,
	Where	young	Emilia	took	the	morning	air.
	It	happen'd	Palamon,	the	prisoner	knight,
	Restless	for	woe,	arose	before	the	light,
	And	with	his	gaoler's	leave	desir'd	to	breathe
	An	air	more	wholesome	than	the	damps	beneath	:
	This	granted,	to	the	tower	he	took	his	way,
	Cheer'd	with	the	promise	of	a	glorious	day	:
	Then	cast	a	languisliing	regard	around,
	And	saw	with	hateful	eyes	the	temples	crown'd
	With	golden	spires,	and	all	the	hostile	ground,
	He	sigh'd,	and	turn'd	his	eyes,	because	he	knew
	'Twas	but	a	larger	gaol	he	had	in	view	:
	Then	look'd	below,	and,	from	the	castle's	height,
	Beheld	a	nearer	and	more	pleasing	sight,
	The	garden,	which	before	he	had	not	seen,
	In	Spring's	new	livery	clad	of	white	and	green,
	Fresh	flowers	in	wide	parterres,	and	shady	walki
	between.
	This	view'd,	but	not	enjoy'd,	with	arms	across
	He	stood,	reflecting	on	his	country's	loss	;
	Himself	an	object	of	the	public	scorn,
	And	often	wish'd	he	never	had	been	born.
	At	last,	for	so	his	destiny	requir'd,
	With	walking	giddy,	and	with	thinking	tir'd,
	He	through	a	little	window	cast	his	sight,
	Though	thick	of	bars,	that	gave	a	scanty	light	:
	But	ev'n	that	glimmering	serv'd	him	to	descry
	Th'	inevitable	charms	of	Emily.
	Scarce	had	he	seen,	but,	seiz'd	with	sudden	smart,
	Stung	to	the	quick,	he	felt	it	at	his	heart	;
	Struck	blind	with	over-powering	light	he	stood,
	Then	started	back	amaz'd,	and	cry'd	aloud.
	Young	Arcite	heard	;	and	up	he	ran	with	haste,
	To	help	his	friend,	and	in	his	arms	embrac'd	;
	And	ask'd	him	why	he	look'd	so	deadly	wan,
	And	whence	and	how	his	change	of	cheer	began,
	Or	who	had	done	th'	offence	?	"	But	if,"	said	he,
	"	Your	grief	alone	is	hard	captivity,
	For	love	of	Heaven,	with	patience	undergo
	A	cureless	ill,	since	Fate	will	have	it	so	:
	So	stood	our	horoscope	in	chains	to	lie,
	And	Saturn	in	the	dungeon	of	the	sky,
	Or	other	baleful	aspect,	rul'd	our	birth,
	When	all	the	friendly	stars	were	under	Earth	:
	Whate'er	betides,	by	Destiny	'tis	done	;
	And	better	bear	like	men,	than	vainly	seek	to	shun."
	"	Nor	of	myjxmds,"	said	Palamon	again,
	"	Nor	of	unhappy	planets	I	complain	;
	But	when	my	mortal	anguish	caus'd	me	cry,
	That	moment	I	was	hurt	through	either	eye	;
	Pierc'd	with	a	random	shaft,	I	faint	away,
	And	perish	with	insensible	decay	:
	A	glance	of	some	new	goddess	gave	the	wound,
	Whom,	like	Acteon,	unaware	I	found.
	Look	how	she	walks	along	yon	shady	space,
	Not	Juno	moves	with	more	majestic	grace	;
	And	all	the	Cyprian	queen	is	in	her	face.
	If	thou	art	Venus	(for	thy	charms	confess
	That	face	was	form'd	in	Heaven,	nor	art	thou	less	;
	Disguis'd	in	habit,	undisguis'd	in	shape)
	O	help	us	captives	from	our	chains	t'	escape	;
	But	if	our	doom	be	past,	in	bonds	to	lie
	For	life,	and	in	a	loathsome	dungeon	die,
	M	2


166
	DRYDEN.
	BOOK	II.
	It	happen'd	once,	that,	slumbering	as	he	lay,
	He	dream'd	(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	:
	Such	as	he	seem'd,	when,	at	his	sire's	command,
	On	Argus'	head	he	laid	the	snaky	wand.
	"	Arise,"	he	said,	"	to	conquering	Athens	go,
	There	Fate	appoints	an	end	to	all	thy	woe."
	The	fright	awaken'd	Arcite	with	a	start,
	Against	his	bosom	bounced	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."
	By	chance	he	spy'd	a	mirror	while	he	spoke,
	And	gazing	there	beheld	his	alter'd	look	;
	Wondering,	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,
	"	Since	I	in	Arcite	cannot	Arcite	find,
	The	world	may	search	in	vain	with	all	their	eyes,
	But	never	penetrate	through	this	disgui.se.
	Thanks	to	the	change	which	grief	and	sickness
	give,
	In	low	estate	I	may	securely	live,
	And	see	unknown	my	mistress	day	by	day."
	He	said	;	and	cloth'd	himself	in	coarse	array	:
	A	labouring	hind	in	show,	then	forth	he	went,
	And	to	th'	Athenian	towers	his	journey	bent:
	One	squire	attended	in	the	same	disguise,
	Made	conscious	of	his	master's	enterprise.
	Arriv'd	at	Athens,	soon	he	came	to	court,
	Unknown,	unquestion'd,	in	that	thick	resort	:
	Proffering	for	hire	his	service	at	the	gate,
	To	drudge,	draw	water,	and	to	run	or	wait.
	So	fair	befell	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,
	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.
	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	courtesy	was	blown	:
	All	think	him	worthy	of	a	greater	place,
	And	recommend	him	to	the	royal	grace,
	That,	exercis'd	within	a	higher	sphere,
	His	virtues	more	conspicuous	might	appear.
	Thus	by	the	general	voice	was	Arcite	prais'd,
	And	by	great	Theseus	to	high	favour	rais'd	:
	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,
	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	virtues	held	him	dear.
	BOOK	II.
	WHILE	Arcite	lives	in	bliss,	the	story	turns
	Where	hopeless	Palamon	in	prison	mourns.
	For	six	long	years	immur'd,	the	captiv'd	knight
	Had	dragg'd	his	chains,	and	scarcely	seen	the	light	:
	Lost	liberty,	and	love,	at	once	he	bore	:
	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	receiv'd	the	Sun,
	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
	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.
	Short	was	the	night,	and	careful	Palamon
	Sought	the	next	covert	ere	the	rising	Sun.
	A	thick	spread	forest	near	the	city	lay,
	To	this	with	lengthen'd	strides	he	took	his	way
	(For	far	he	could	not	fly,	and	fear'd	the	day).
	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,
	And	war	on	Theseus,	till	he	lost	his	life
	Or	won	the	beauteous	Emily	to	wife.
	Thus	while	his	thoughts	the	lingering	day	beguile,
	To	gentle	Arcite	let	us	turn	our	style	;
	Who	little	dreamt	how	nigh	he	was	to	care,
	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	;
	He	with	his	tepid	rays	the	rose	renews,
	And	licks	the	drooping	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,
	That	scarcely	prints	the	turf	on	which	he	trod	:
	At	ease	he	seem'd,	and,	prancing	o'er	the	plains,
	Turn'd	only	to	the	grove	his	horse's	reins,
	The	grove	I	nam'd	before	;	and,	lighted	there,
	A	woodbine	garland	sought	to	crown	his	hair	;
	Then	turn'd	his	face	against	the	rising	day,
	And	rais'd	his	voice	to	welcome	in	the	May.	[wear,
	"	For	thee,	sweet	month,	the	groves	green	liveries
	If	not	the	first,	the	fairest	of	the	year	:
	For	thee	the	Graces	lead	the	dancing	Hours,
	And	Nature's	ready	pencil	paints	the	flowers	:
	When	thy	short	reign	is	past,	the	feverish	Sun
	The	sultry	tropic	fears,	and	moves	more	slowly	on.
	So	may	thy	tender	blossoms	fear	no	blight,
	Nor	goats	with	venom'd	teeth	thy	tendrils	bite,
	As	thou	shalt	guide	my	wandering	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.
	Full	little	thought	of	him	the	gentle	knight,
	Who,	flying	death,	had	there	conceal'd	his	flight,


BOOK	II.
	PALAMON	AND	ARCITE.
	167
	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	hu	did	not	know.
	But	as	it	lias	been	said	of	ancient	years,
	That	fields	are	full	of	eyes,	and	woods	liave	ears	;
	For	this	the	wise	are	ever	on	their	guard,
	For,	unforeseen,	they	say,	is	unprepar'd.
	Uncautious	Arcite	thought	himself	alone,
	And	less	than	all	suspected	Palamon,	[grove,
	Who,	listening,	heard	him,	while	he	search'd	the
	And	loudly	sung	his	roundelay	of	love	:
	But	on	the	sudden	stopp'd,	and	silent	stood,
	As	lovers	often	muse,	and	change	their	mood	;
	Now	high	as	Heaven,	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
	Sunk	on	the	ground,	and	from	his	bosom	drew
	A	desperate	sigh,	accusing	Heaven	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,
	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.
	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	country's	overthrow.
	This	is	not	all	;	for	Juno,	to	my	shame,
	Has	forc'd	me	to	forsake	my	former	name	;
	Arcite	I	was,	Pliilostratus	I	am.
	That	side	of	Heaven	is	all	my	enemy	:
	Mars	ruin'd	Thebes	:	his	mother	ruin'd	me.
	Of	all	the	royal	race	remains	but	one
	Besides	myself,	the	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	could	endure	;
	But	love's	a	malady	without	a	cure	;
	Fierce	Love	has	pierc'd	me	with	his	fiery	dart,
	He	fires	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,
	Who	burn'd	the	temple	where	she	was	ador'd	:
	And	let	it	burn,	I	never	will	complain,
	Pleas'd	with	my	sufferings,	if	you	knew	my	pain."
	At	this	a	sickly	qualm	his	heart	assail	'd,
	His	ears	ring	inward,	and	his	senses	fail'd.
	No	word	miss'd	Palamon	of	all	he	spoke,
	But	soon	to	deadly	pale	he	chang'd	his	look	:
	He	trembled	every	limb,	and	felt	a	smart,
	As	if	cold	steel	had	glided	through	his	heart	:
	No	longer	staid,	but	starting	from	his	place,
	Discover'd	stood,	and	show'd	his	hostile	face	:
	"	False	traitor	Arcite,	traitor	to	thy	blood,
	Bound	by	thy	sacred	oath	to	seek	my	good,
	Now	art	thou	found	foresworn,	for	Emily	;
	And	dar'st	attempt	her	love,	for	whom	I	die.
	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,
	Or	else	renounce	thy	claim	in	Emily	:
	Fur,	though	unann'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."
	Arcite,	who	heard	his	tale,	and	knew	the	man,
	His	sword	unsheath'd,	and	fiercely	thus	began	:
	"	Now	by	the	gods	who	govern	Heaven	above,
	Wert	thou	not	weak	with	hunger,	mad	with	love,
	That	word	had	been	thy	last,	or	in	this	grove
	This	hand	should	force	thee	to	renounce	thy	love.
	The	surety	which	I	gave	thee,	I	defy	:
	Fool,	not	to	know,	that	love	endures	no	tie,
	And	Jove	but	laughs	at	lovers'	perjury.
	Know	I	will	serve	the	fair	in	thy	despite	;
	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	[known;
	Will	come,	and	keep	the	cause	and	quarrel	both	un-
	With	arms	of	proof	both	for	myself	and	thee	;
	Choose	thou	the	best,	and	leave	the	worst	to	me.
	And,	that	a	better	ease	thou	may'st	abide,
	Bedding	and	clothes	I	will	this	night	provide,
	And	needful	sustenance,	that	thou	mayst	be
	A	conquest	better	won,	and	worthy	me."
	His	promise	Palamon	accepts	;	but	pray'd,
	To	keep	it	better	than	the	first	he	made.
	Tims	fair	they	parted	till	the	morrow's	dawn,
	For	each	had	laid	his	plighted	faith	to	pawn.
	O	Love	!	thou	sternly	dost	thy	power	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.
	Arcite	return'd,	and,	as	in	honour	ty'd,
	His	foe	with	bedding	and	with	food	supply'd	:
	Then,	ere	the	day,	two	suits	of	armour	sought,
	Which	borne	before	him	on	his	steed	he	brought	:
	Both	were	of	shining	steel,	and	wrought	so	pure,
	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.
	So	stands	the	Thracian	herdsman	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,
	And	either	he	must	fall	in	fight,	or	I	:
	This	while	he	thinks,	he	lifts	aloft	his	dart	;
	A	generous	dullness	seizes	every	part	;
	The	veins	pour	back	the	blood,	and	fortify	the	heart.
	Thus	pale	they	meet	;	their	eyes	with	fury	burn	;
	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	:
	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	j	till	both	were	bath'd	in
	blood;
	And	not	a	foot	of	ground	had.	either	got,
	As	if	the	world	depended	on	the	spot.
	Fell	Arcite	like	an	angry	tiger	far'd,
	And	like	a	lion	Palamon	appear'd	:
	Or	as	two	boars	whom	love	to	battle	draws,
	With	rising	bristles,	and	with	frothy	jaws,
	M	4


168
	DRYDEN.
	BOOK	II.
	Their	adverse	breasts	with	tusks	oblique	they	wound,
	With	grunts	and	groans	the	forest	rings	around	:
	So	fought	the	knights,	and	ghting	must	abide,
	Till	Fate	an	umpire	sends	their	difference	to	decide.
	The	power	that	ministers	to	God's	decrees,
	And	executes	on	Earth	what	Heaven	foresees,
	Call'd	Providence,	or	Chance,	or	Fatal	Sway,
	Comes	with	resistless	force,	and	finds	or	makes	her
	way.
	Nor	kings,	nor	nations,	nor	united	power,
	One	moment	can	retard	th'	appointed	hour.
	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	powers	above	;
	They	move	our	appetites	to	good	or	ill,
	And	by	foresight	necessitate	the	will.
	In	Theseus	this	appears	;	whose	youthful	joy
	Was	beasts	of	chase	in	forests	to	destroy.
	This	gentle	knight,	inspir'd	by	jolly	May,
	Forsook	his	easy	couch	at	early	day,
	And	to	the	wood	and	wilds	pursued	his	way.
	Beside	him	rode	Hippolita	the	queen,
	And	Emily	attir'd	in	lively	green,
	With	horns,	and	hounds,	and	all	the	tuneful	cry,
	To	hunt	a	royal	hart	within	the	covert	nigh	:
	And	as	he	follow'd	Mars	before,	so	now
	He	serves	the	goddess	of	the	silver	bow.
	The	way	that	Theseus	took	was	to	the	wood
	Where	the	two	knights	in	cruel	battle	stood	:
	The	lawn	on	which	they	fought,	th'	appointed	place
	In	which	th'	uncoupled	hounds	began	the	chase.
	Thither	forth-right	he	rode	to	rouse	the	prey,
	That,	shaded	by	the	fern,	in	harbour	lay	;
	And,	thence	dislodg'd,	was	wont	to	leave	the	wood,
	For	open	fields,	and	cross	the	crystal	flood.
	Approach'd,	and	looking	underneath	the	Sun,
	He	saw	proud	Arcite,	and	fierce	Palamon,
	In	mortal	battle	doubling	blow	on	blow,
	Like	lightning	flam'd	their	faulchions	to	and	fro,
	And	shot	a	dreadful	gleam	:	so	strong	they	strook,
	There	seem'd	less	force	requir'd	to	fell	an	oak	:
	He	gaz'd	with	wonder	on	their	equal	might,
	Look'd	eager	on,	but	knew	not	either	knight	:
	Resolv'd	to	learn,	he	spurr'd	his	fiery	steed
	With	goring	rowels	to	provoke	his	speed.
	The	minute	ended	that	began	the	race,
	So	soon	he	was	betwixt	them	on	the	place	;
	And	with	his	sword	unsheath'd,	on	pain	of	life
	Commands	both	combatants	to	cease	their	strife	:
	Then	with	imperious	tone	pursues	his	threat	:
	"	What	are	you	?	why	in	arms	together	met	?
	How	dares	your	pride	presume	against	my	laws,
	As	in	a	listed	field	to	fight	your	cause	?
	Unask'd	the	royal	grant	;	no	marshal	by,
	As	knightly	rites	require	;	nor	judge	to	try?"
	Then	Palamon,	with	scarce	recover'd	breath,
	Thus	hasty	spoke	:	"	We	both	deserve	the	death,
	And	both	would	die	;	for	look	the	world	around,
	A	pair	so	wretched	is	not	to	be	found	:
	Our	life's	a	load	;	encumber'd	with	the	charge,
	We	long	to	set	th'	imprison'd	soul	at	large.
	Now,	as	thou	art	a	sovereign	judge,	decree
	The	rightful	doom	of	death	to	him	and	me,
	Let	neither	find	thy	grace,	for	grace	is	cruelty.
	Me	first,	O	kill	me	first	;	and	cure	my	woe	;
	Then	sheath	the	sword	of	Justice	on	my	foe	:
	Or	kill	him	first	;	for	when	his	name	is	heard,
	He	foremost	will	receive	his	due	reward.
	Arcite	of	Thebes	is	he	;	thy	mortal	foe	:
	On	whom	thy	grace	did	liberty	bestow	;
	But	first	contracted,	that	if	ever	found
	By	day	or	night	upon	th'	Athenian	ground,
	His	head	should	pay	the	forfeit	;	see	return'd
	The	perjur'd	knight,	his	oath	and	honour	scorn'd.
	For	this	is	he,	who,	with	a	borrow'd	name
	And	proffer'd	service,	to	thy	palace	came,
	Now	call'd	Philostratus	:	retain'd	by	thee,
	A	traitor	trusted,	and	in	high	degree,
	Aspiring	to	the	bed	of	beauteous	Emily.
	My	part	remains	;	from	Thebes	my	birth	I	own,	.
	And	call	myself	th'	unhappy	Palamon.
	Think	me	not	like	that	man	;	since	no	disgrace
	Can	force	me	to	renounce	the	honour	of	my	race.
	Know	me	for	what	I	am	:	I	broke	my	chain,
	Nor	promis'd	I	thy	prisoner	to	remain	:
	The	love	of	liberty	with	life	is	given,
	And	life	itself	th'	inferior	gift	of	Heaven.
	Thus	without	crime	I	fled	;	but	farther	know,
	I	with	this	Arcite	am	thy	mortal	foe	:
	Then	give	me	death,	since	I	thy	life	pursue	;
	For	safeguard	of	thyself,	death	is	my	due.
	More	wouldst	thou	know	?	I	love	bright	Emily,
	And	for	her	sake	and	in	her	sight	will	die	:
	But	kill	my	rival	too	;	for	he	no	less
	Deserves	;	and	I	thy	righteous	doom	will	bless,
	Assur'd	that	what	I	lose,	he	never	shall	possess."
	To	this	reply'd	the	stern	Athenian	prince,
	And	sourly	smil'd	:	"	In	owning	your	offence,
	You	judge	yourself;	and	I	but	keep	record
	In	place	of	law,	while	you	pronounce	the	word.
	Take	your	desert,	the	death	you	have	decreed	;
	I	seal	your	doom,	and	ratify	the	deed	:
	By	Mars,	the	patron	of	my	arms,	you	die."
	He	said	;	dumb	Sorrow	seiz'd	the	stariders-by.
	The	queen	above	the	rest,	by	nature	good,
	(The	pattern	form'd	of	perfect	womanhood)
	For	tender	pity	wept	:	when	she	began,
	Through	the	bright	quire	th'	infectious	virtue	ran.
	All	dropt	their	tears,	ev'n	the	contended	maid,
	And	thus	among	themselves	they	softly	said	:
	"	What	eyes	can	suffer	this	unworthy	sight	!
	Two	youths	of	royal	blood,	renown'	d	in	fight,
	The	mastership	of	Heaven	in	face	and	mind,
	And	lovers,	far	beyond	their	faithless	kind	:
	See	their	wide	streaming	wounds	;	they	neither	came
	For	pride	of	empire,	nor	desire	of	fame	:
	Kings	for	kingdoms,	madmen	for	applause	;
	But	love	for	love	alone;	that	crowns	the	lover's
	cause."
	This	thought,	which	ever	bribes	the	beauteous	kind,
	Such	pity	wrought	in	every	lady's	mind,
	They	left	their	steeds,	and'	prostrate	on	the	place,
	From	the	fierce	king,	implor'd	th'	offenders	grace.
	He	paus'd	awhile,	stood	silent	in	his	mood
	(For	yet	his	rage	was	boiling	in	his	blood)	;
	But	soon	his	tender	mind	th'	impression	felt,
	(	As	softest	metals	are	not	slow	to	melt
	And	pity	soonest	runs	in	softest	minds)	:
	Then	reasons	with	himself;	and	first	he	finds
	His	passion	cast	a	mist	before	his	sense.
	And	either	made,	or	magnify'd	th'	offence.
	"	Offence!	of	what?	to	whom?	who	judg'd	the
	cause	?
	The	prisoner	freed	himself	by	Nature's	laws	:
	Born	free,	he	sought	his	right	:	the	man	he	freed
	Was	perjur'd,	but	his	love	excus'd	the	deed."
	Thus	pondering,	he	look'd	under	with	his	eyes.
	And	saw	the	women's	tears,	and	heard	their	cries,
	Which	mov'd	compassion	more	;	he	shook	his	head,
	And	softly	sighing	to	himself	he	said	:


BOOK	II.
	PALAMON	AND	ARCITE.
	169
	"	Curst-	on	th'	unpardoning	prince,	whom	tears
	can	draw
	To	no	remorse	;	who	rules	by	lions'	law;
	And	deaf	to	prayers	by	no	submission	bow'd,
	Rends	all	alike	;	the	penitent,	and	proud."
	At	this,	with	look	serene,	he	rais'd	his	head	;
	Reason	resum'd	her	place,	and	Passion	Hed	:
	Then	thus	aloud	he	spoke	:	"	The	power	of	Love,
	In	Earth,	and	seas,	and	air,	and	Heaven	above,
	Rules,	unresistcd,	with	an	awful	nod	;
	By	daily	miracles	declar'd	a	god	:
	He	blinds	the	wise,	gives	eye-sight	to	the	blind	;
	And	moulds	and	stamps	anew	the	lover's	mind.
	Behold	that	Arcite,	and	this	Palamon,
	Freed	from	my	fetters,	and	in	safety	gone,
	What	hinder'd	either	in	their	native	soil
	At	ease	to	reap	the	harvest	of	their	toil	;
	But	Love,	their	lord,	did	otherwise	ordain,
	And	brought	them	in	their	own	despite	again,
	To	suffer	death	deserv'd	;	for	well	they	know,
	*Tis	in	my	power,	and	I	their	deadly	foe	;
	The	proverb	holds,	that	to	be	wise	and	love,
	Is	hardly	granted	to	the	gods	above.
	See	how	the	madmen	bleed	;	behold	the	gains
	With	which	their	master,	Love,	rewards	their	pains	;
	For	seven	long	years,	on	duty	every	day,
	Lo	their	obedience,	and	their	monarch's	pay	:
	Yet,	as	in	duty	bound,	they	serve	him	on	;
	And,	ask	the	fools,	they	think	it	wisely	done	;
	Nor	ease,	nor	wealth,	nor	life	itself	regard,
	For	'tis	their	maxim,	love	is	love's	reward.
	This	is	not	all	;	the	fair	for	whom	they	strove
	Nor	knew	before,	nor	could	suspect	their	love,
	Nor	thought,	when	she	beheld	the	fight	from	far,
	Her	beauty	was	th'	occasion	of	the	war.
	But	sure	a	general	doom	on	man	is	past,
	And	all	are	fools	and	lovers,	first	or	last	:
	This	both	by	others	and	myself	I	know,
	For	I	have	serv'd	their	sovereign	long	ago	;
	Oft	have	been	caught	within	the	winding	train
	Of	female	snares,	and	felt	the	lover's	pain,
	And	learn'd	how	far	the	god	can	human	hearts
	constrain.
	To	this	remembrance,	and	the	prayers	of	those
	Who	for	th'	offending	warriors	interpose,
	I	give	their	forfeit	lives	;	on	this	accord,
	To	do	me	homage	as	their	sovereign	lord	;
	And	as	my	vassals,	to	their	utmost	might,
	Assist	my	person,	and	assert	my	right."
	This	freely	sworn,	the	knights	their	grace	obtain'd.
	Then	thus	the	king	his	secret	thoughts	explain'd	:
	"If	wealth,	or	honour,	or	a	royal	race,
	Or	each,	or	all,	may	win	a	lady's	grace,
	Then	either	of	you	knights	may	well	deserve
	A	princess	born	;	and	such	is	she	you	serve	:
	For	Emily	is	sister	to	the	crown,
	And	but	too	well	to	both	her	beauty	known	:
	But	should	you	combat	till	you	both	were	dead,
	Two	lovers	cannot	share	a	single	bed	:
	As	therefore	both	are	equal	in	degree,
	The	lot	of	both	be	left	to	Destiny.
	Now	hear	th'	award,	and	happy	may	it	prove
	To	her,	and	him	who	best	deserves	her	love	!
	Depart	from	hence	in	peace,	and	free	as	air,
	Search	the	wide	world,	and	where	you	please	repair	;
	But	on	the	day	when	this	returning	Sun
	To	the	same	point	through	every	sij;n	lias	run,
	Then	each	of	you	his	hundred	knights	shall	bring,
	In	royal	lists,	to	fight	before	the	king;
	And	then	the	knight,	whom	Fate	or	happy	Chance
	Shall	with	his	friends	to	victory	advance,
	And	grace	his	arms	so	far	in	equal	fight,
	From	out	the	bars	to	force	his	opposite,
	Or	kill,	or	make	him	recreant	on	the	plain,
	The	prize	of	valour	and	of	love	shall	gain	;
	The	vanquish'd	party	shall	their	claim	release,
	And	the	long	jars	conclude	in	lasting	peace.
	The	charge	be	mine	t'	adorn	the	chosen	ground,
	The	theatre	of	war,	for	champions	so	renown'd	;
	And	take	the	patron's	place	of	either	knight,
	With	eyes	impartial	to	behold	the	fight	;
	And	Heaven	of	me	so	judge,	as	I	shall	judge	aright.
	If	both	are	satisfied	with	this	accord,
	Swear	by	the	laws	of	knighthood	pn	my	sword."
	Who	now	but	Palamon	exults	with	joy	?
	And	ravish'd	Arcite	seems	to	touch	the	sky	:
	The	whole	assembled	troop	was	pleas'd	as	well,
	Extol	th'	award,	and	on	their	knees	they	fell
	To	bless	the	gracious	king.	The	knights,	with	leave
	Departing	from	the	place,	his	last	commands	receive	;
	On	Emily	with	equal	ardour	look,
	And	from	her	eyes	their	inspiration	took	:
	From	thence	to	Thebes'	old	walls	pursue	their	way,
	Each	to	provide	bis	champions	for	the	day.
	It	might	be	deem'd,	on	our	historian's	part,
	Or	too	much	negligence	or	want	of	art,
	If	he	forgot	the	vast	magnificence
	Of	royal	Theseus,	and	his	large	expense.
	He	first	enclos'd	for	lists	a	level	ground,
	The	whole	circumference	a	mile	around	;
	The	form	was	circular	;	and	all	without
	A	trench	was	sunk,	to	moat	the	place	about.
	Within,	an	amphitheatre	appear'd,
	Rais'd	in	degrees,	to	sixty	paces	rear'd	;
	That	when	a	man	was	plac'd	in	one	degree,
	Height	was	allow	'd	for	him	above	to	see.
	Eastward	was	built	a	gate	of	marble	white	;
	The	like	adorn'd	the	western	opposite.
	A	nobler	object	than	this	fabric	was,
	Rome	never	saw	:	nor	of	so	vast	a	space	:
	For,	rich	with	spoils	of	many	a	conquer'd	land,
	All	arts	and	artists	Theseus	could	command	:
	Who	sold	for	hire,	or	wrought	for	better	fame,
	The	master-painters,	and	the	carvers,	came.
	So	rose	within	the	compass	of	the	year
	An	age's	work,	a	glorious	theatre.
	Then	o'er	its	eastern	gate	was	rais'd,	above,
	A	temple,	sacred	to	the	queen	of	love	;
	An	altar	stood	below	;	on	either	hand
	A	priest	with	roses	crown'd,	who	held	a	myrtle	wand.
	The	dome	of	Mars	was	on	the	gate	oppos'd,
	And	on	the	north	a	turret	was	enclos'd,
	Witlu'n	the	wall,	of	alabaster	white,
	And	crimson	coral,	for	the	queen	of	night,
	Who	takes	in	sylvan	sports	her	chaste	delight.
	Within	these	oratories	might	you	see
	Rich	carvings,	portraitures,	and	imagery	:
	Where	every	figure	to	the	life	express'd
	The	godhead's	power	to	whom	it	was	address'd.
	In	Venus'	temple	on	the	sides	were	seen
	The	broken	slumbers	of	enamour'd	men,
	Prayers,	that	even	spoke,	and	pity	seem'd	to	call,
	And	issuing	sighs,	that	smok'd	along	the	wall,
	Complaints,	and	hot	desires,	the	lover's	Hell,
	And	scalding	tears,	that	wore	a	channel	where	they
	fell:
	And	all	around	were	nuptial	bonds,	the	ties,
	Of	love's	assurance,	and	a	train	of	lies,
	That,	made	in	lust,	conclude	in	perjuries.
	Beauty,	and	Youth,	and	Wealth,	and	Luxury,
	And	sprightly	Hope,	and	short-enduring	Joy	;


170
	DRYDEN.
	BOOK	II.
	And	sorceries	to	raise	th'	infernal	powers,
	And	sigils,	fram'd	in	planetary	hours	:	\
	Expense,	and	Afterthought,	and	idle	Care,
	And	Doubts	of	motley	hue,	and	dark	Despair	;
	Suspicions,	and	fantastical	Surmise,
	And	Jealousy	suffus'd,	with	jaundice	in	her	eyes,
	Discolouring	all	she	view'd,	in	tawny	dress'd,
	Down-look'd,	and	with	a	cuckoo	on	her	fist.
	Oppos'd	to	her,	on	t'	other	side	advance
	The	costly	feast,	the	carol,	and	the	dance,
	Minstrels,	and	music,	poetry,	and	play,
	And	balls	by	nights,	and	tournaments	by	day.
	All	these	were	painted	on	the	wall,	and	more	:
	With	acts	and	monuments	of	times	before	:
	And	others	added	by	prophetic	doom,
	And	lovers	yet	unborn,	and	loves	to	come	:
	For	there	th'	Idalian	mount,	and	Citheron,
	The	court	of	Venus	was	in	colours	drawn	:
	Before	the	palace-gate,	in	careless	dress,
	And	loose	array,	sat	portress	Idleness	:
	There,	by	the	fount,	Narcissus	pin'd	alone	:
	There	Samson	was	;	with	wiser	Solomon,
	And	all	the	mighty	names	by	love	undone.
	Medea's	charms	were	there,	Circean	feasts,
	With	bowls	that	turn'd	enamour'd	youth	to	beasts.
	Here	might	be	seen,	that	beauty,	wealth,	and	wit,
	And	prowess,	to	the	power	of	love	submit	:
	The	spreading	snare	for	all	mankind	is	laid	;
	And	lovers	all	betray,	and	are	betray'd.
	The	goddess'	self	some	noble	hand	had	wrought	;
	Smiling	she	seem'd,	and	full	of	pleasing	thought	:
	From	ocean	as	she	first	began	to	rise,
	And	smooth'd	the	ruffled	seas	and	clear'd	the	skies,
	She	trod	the	brine,	all	bare	below	the	breast,
	And	the	green	waves	but	ill	conceal'd	the	rest	;
	A	lute	she	held	;	and	on	her	head	was	seen
	A	wreath	of	roses	red,	and	myrtles	green	;
	Her	turtles	fann'd	the	buxom	air	above	;
	And,	by	his	mother,	stood	an	infant	Love,
	With	wings	unfledg'd;	his	eyes	were	banded
	o'er;
	His	hands	a	bow,	his	back	a	quiver	bore,
	Supply'd	with	arrows	bright	and	keen,	a	deadly	store.
	But	in	the	dome	of	mighty	Mars	the	red
	With	different	figures	all	the	sides	were	spread	;
	This	temple,	less	in	form,	with	equal	grace,
	Was	imitative	of	the	first	in	Thrace	:
	For	that	cold	region	was	the	lov'd	abode,
	And	sovereign	mansion	of	the	warrior	god.
	The	landscape	was	a	forest	wide	and	bare	;
	Where	neither	beast,	nor	human	kind	repair	;
	The	fowl,	that	scent	afar,	the	borders	fly,
	And	shun	the	bitter	blast,	and	wheel	about	the	sky.
	A	cake	of	scurf	lies	baking	on	the	ground,
	And	prickly	stubs,	instead	of	trees,	are	found	;
	Or	woods	with	knots	and	knares	deform'd	and	old	;
	Headless	the	most,	and	hideous	to	behold	:
	A	rattling	tempest	through	the	branches	went,
	That	stripp'd	them	bare,	and	one	sole	way	they	bent.
	Heaven	froze	above,	severe,	the	clouds	congeal,
	And	througli	the	crystal	vault	appear'd	the	standing
	hail.
	Such	was	the	face	without	;	a	mountain	stood
	Threatening	from	high,	and	overlook'd	the	wood	:
	Beneath	the	lowering	brow,	and	on	a	bent,
	The	temple	stood	of	Mars	armipotent	:
	The	frame	of	burnish'	d	steel,	that	cast	a	glare
	From	far,	and	seem'd	to	thaw	the	freezing	air.
	A	straight	long	entry	to	the	temple	led,
	Blind	with	high	walls,	and	Horrour	over	head	:
	Thence	issued	such	a	blast,	and	hollow	roar,
	As	threaten'd	from	the	hinge	to	heave	the	door	;
	In	through	that	door,	a	northern	light	there	shone	;
	'Twas	all	it	had,	for	windows	there	were	none	;
	The	gate	was	adamant,	eternal	frame	!
	Which,	hew'd	by	Mars	himself,	from	Indian	quarries
	came,
	The	labour	of	a	god	;	and	all	along
	Tough	iron	plates	were	clench'd	to	make	it	strong.
	A	tun	about	was	every	pillar	there	;
	A	polish'd	mirror	shone	not	half	so	clear.
	There	saw	I	how	the	secret	felon	wrought,
	And	Treason	labouring	in	the	traitor's	thought	:
	And	midwife	Time	the	ripen'd	plot	to	murder
	brought.
	There	the	red	Anger	dar'd	the	pallid	Fear	;
	Next	stood	Hypocrisy,	with	holy	leer,
	Soft	smiling,	and	demurely	looking	down,
	But	hid	the	dagger	underneath	the	gown	:
	Th'	assassinating	wife,	the	household	fiend,
	And,	far	the	blackest	there,	the	traitor-friend.
	On	t'	other	side	there	stood	Destruction	bare,
	Unpunished	Rapine,	and	a	waste	of	war.
	Contest,	with	sharpen'd	knives,	in	cloisters	drawn,
	And	all	with	blood	bespread	the	holy	lawn.
	Loud	menaces	were	heard,	and	foul	Disgrace,
	And	bawling	Infamy,	in	language	base	:	[place.
	Till	sense	was	lost	in	sound,	and	Silence	fled	the
	The	slayer	of	himself	yet	saw	I	there,
	The	gore	congeal'd	was	clotted	in	his	hair	:
	With	eyes	half	clos'd,	and	gaping	mouth	he	lay,
	And	grim,	as	when	he	breath'd	his	sudden	soul
	away.
	In	midst	of	all	the	dome,	Misfortune	sate,
	And	gloomy	Discontent,	and	fell	Debate,
	And	Madness	laughing	in	his	ireful	mood	;
	And	arm'd	Complaint	on	Theft;	and	cries	of	Blood.
	There	was	the	murder'd	corpse,	in	covert	laid,
	And	violent	Death	in	thousand	shapes	display'd	;
	The	city	to	the	soldiers'	rage	resign'd	;
	Successless	wars,	and	Poverty	behind	;
	Ships	burnt	in	fight,	or	forc'd	on	rocky	shores,
	And	the	rash	hunter	strangled	by	the	boars	:
	The	new-born	babe	by	nurses	overlaid	;
	And	the	cook	caught	within	the	raging	fire	he	made.
	All	ills	of	Mars's	nature,	flame	and	steel	;
	The	gasping	charioteer,	beneath	the	wheel
	Of	his	own	car	;	the	ruin'd	house,	that	falls
	And	intercepts	her	lord	betwixt	the	walls	:
	The	whole	division,	that	to	Mars	pertains,
	All	trades	of	death,	that	deal	in	steel	for	gains,
	Were	there	:	the	butcher,	armourer,	and	smith,
	Who	forges	sharpen'd	faulchions,	or	the	scythe.
	The	scarlet	Conquest	on	a	tower	was	plac'd,
	With	shouts,	and	soldiers'	acclamations	grac'd:
	A	pointed	sword	hung	threatening	o'er	his	head,
	Sustain'd	but	by	a	slender	twine	of	thread.
	There	saw	I	Mars's	ides,	the	Capitol,
	The	seer	in	vain	foretelling	Caesar's	fall	;
	The	last	triumvirs,	and	the	wars	they	move,
	And	Antony,	who	lost	the	world	for	love.
	These,	and	a	thousand	more,	the	fane	adorn	;
	Their	fates	were	painted	ere	the	men	were	born,
	All	copied	from	the	Heavens,	and	ruling	force
	Of	the	red	star,	in	his	revolving	course.
	The	form	of	Mars	high	on	a	chariot	stood,
	All	sheath'd	in	arms,	and	gruffly	look'd	the	god	:
	Two	geomantic	figures	were	display'd
	Above	his	head,	a	warrior	and	a	maid	;
	One	when	direct,	and	one	when	retrograde.


BOOK	III.
	PALAMON	AND	ARCITE.
	171
	Tir'd	with	clefonnities	of	death,	I	haste
	To	the	third	temple	of	Diana	chaste.
	A	sylvan	scene	with	various	greens	was	drawn,
	Shades	on	the	sides,	and	on	the	midst	a	lawn	:
	The	silver	Cynthia,	with	her	nymphs	around,
	Pursued	the	Hying	deer,	the	woods	with	horns	re
	sound	:
	Calisto	there	stood	manifest	of	shame,
	And,	turn'd	a	bear,	the	northern	star	became	:
	Her	son	was	next,	and,	by	peculiar	grace,
	In	the	cold	circle	held	the	second	place	:
	The	stag	Acteon	in	the	stream	had	spy'd
	The	naked	huntress,	and,	for	seeing,	dy'd	:
	His	hounds,	unknowing	of	his	change,	pursue
	The	chase,	and	their	mistaken	master	slew.
	Peneian	Daphne	too	was	there	to	see,
	Apollo's	love	before,	and	now	his	tree	:
	Th'	adjoining	fane	th'	assembled	Greeks	express'd,
	And	hunting	of	the	Caledonian	beast.
	Oenides'	valour,	and	his	envy'd	prize	;
	The	fatal	power	of	Atalanta's	eyes	;
	Diana's	vengeance	on	the	victor	shown,
	The	murdress	mother,	and	consuming	son	;
	The	Volscian	queen	extended	on	the	plain	:
	The	treason	punish'd,	and	the	traitor	slain.
	The	rest	were	various	huntings,	well	design'd,
	And	savage	beasts	destroy'd,	of	every	kind.
	The	graceful	goddess	was	array'd	in	green	;
	About	her	feet	were	little	beagles	seen,	[queen.
	That	watch'	d	with	upward	eyes	the	motions	of	their
	Her	legs	were	buskin'd,	and	the	left	before	;
	In	act	to	shoot,	a	silver	bow	she	bore,
	And	at	her	back	a	painted	quiver	wore.
	She	trod	a	wexing	moon,	that	soon	would	wane,
	And	drinking	borrow'd	light,	be	fill'd	again	;
	With	downcast	eyes,	as	seeming	to	survey
	The	dark	dominions,	her	alternate	sway.
	Before	her	stood	a	woman	in	her	throes,
	And	call'd	Lucina's	aid,	her	burden	to	disclose.
	All	these	the	painter	drew	with	such	command,
	That	Nature	snatch'd	the	pencil	from	his	hand,
	Asham'd	and	angry	that	his	art	could	feign
	And	mend	the	tortures	of	a	mother's	pain.
	Theseus	beheld	the	fanes	of	every	god,
	And	thought	his	mighty	cost	was	well	bestow'd.
	So	princes	now	their	poets	should	regard	;
	But	few	can	write,	and	fewer	can	reward.
	The	theatre	thus	rais'd,	the	lists	enclos'd,
	And	all	with	vast	magnificence	dispos'd,
	We	leave	the	monarch	pleas'd,	and	haste	to	bring
	The	knights	to	combat	;	and	their	arms	to	sing.
	BOOK	III.
	THE	day	approach'd	when	Fortune	should	decide
	Tli'	important	enterprize,	and	give	the	bride	;
	For	now,	the	rivals	round	the	world	had	sought,
	And	each	his	rival,	well	appointed,	brought.
	The	nations,	far	and	near,	contend	in	choice,
	And	send	the	flower	of	war	by	public	voice	;
	That	after,	or	before,	were	never	known
	Such	chiefs,	as	each	an	army	seem'd	alone	:
	Beside	the	champions,	all	of	high	degree,
	Who	knighthood	lov'd,	and	deeds	of	chivalry,
	Throng'd	to	the	lists,	and	envy'd	to	behold
	The	names	of	others,	not	their	own,	enroll'd.
	Nor	seems	it	strange	;	for	every	noble	knight
	Who	loves	the	lair,	and	is	endu'd	with	might,
	In	such	a	quurrd	would	be	proud	to	fight.
	There	breathes	not	scarce	a	man	on	British	ground
	(An	isle	for	love	and	arms	of	old	renown'd)
	But	would	have	sold	his	life	to	purcliase	fame,
	To	Palamon	or	Arcite	sent	his	name	:
	And	had	the	land	selected	of	the	best,	[rest.
	Half	had	come	hence,	and	let	the	world	provide	the
	A	hundred	knights	with	Palamon	there	came,
	Approv'd	in	fight,	and	men	of	mighty	name	;
	Their	arms	were	several,	as	their	nations	were,
	But	furnish'd	all	alike	with	sword	and	spear.
	Some	wore	coat	armour,	imitating	scale	;
	And	next	their	skins	were	stubborn	shirts	of	mail.
	Some	wore	a	breast-plate	and	a	light	juppon,
	Their	horses	cloth'd	with	rich	caparison	:
	Some	for	defence	would	leathern	bucklers	use,
	Of	folded	hides;	and	others	shields	of	pruce.
	One	hung	a	pole-axe	at	his	saddle-bow,
	And	one	a	heavy	mace	to	shun	the	foe.
	One	for	his	legs	and	knees	provided	well,
	With	jambeaux	arm'd,	and	double	plates	of	steeL
	This	on	his	helmet	wore	a	lady's	glove,
	And	that	a	sleeve	embroider'd	by	his	love.
	With	Palamon,	above	the	rest	in	place,
	Lycurgus	came,	the	surly	king	of	Thrace	;
	Black	was	his	beard,	and	manly	was	his	face	;
	The	balls	of	his	broad	eyes	roll'd	in	his	head,
	And	glar'd	betwixt	a	yellow	and	a	red	:
	He	look'd	a	lion	with	a	gloomy	stare,
	And	o'er	his	eyebrows	hung	his	matted	hair	:
	Big-bon'd,	and	large	of	limbs,	with	sinews	strong,
	Broad-shoulder'd,	and	his	arms	were	round	and
	long.
	Four	milkwhite	bulls	(the	Thracian	use	of	old)
	Were	yok'd	to	draw	his	car	of	burnish'd	gold.
	Upright	he	stood,	and	bore	aloft	his	shield,
	Conspicuous	from	afar,	and	overlook'd	the	field.
	His	surcoat	was	a	bear-skin	on	his	back	;
	His	hair	hung	long	behind,	and	glossy	raven	black.
	His	ample	forehead	bore	a	coronet,
	With	sparkling	diamonds	and	with	rubies	set	:
	Ten	brace,	and	more,	of	greyhounds,	snowy	fair,
	And	tall	as	stags,	ran	loose,	and	cours'd	around	liis,
	chair,
	A	match	for	pards	in	flight,	in	grapling	for	the	beari
	With	golden	muzzles	all	their	mouths	were	bound,
	And	collars	of	the	same	their	necks	surround.
	Thus	through	the	fields	Lycurgus	took	his	way	:
	His	hundred	knights	attend	in	pomp	and	proud
	array.
	To	match	this	monarch,	with	strong	Arcite	came
	Emetrius,	king	of	Inde,	a	mighty	name,
	On	a	bay	courser,	goodly	to	behold,	[gold.
	The	trappings	of	his	horse	adorn'd	with	barbarous
	Not	Mars	bestrode	a	steed	with	greater	grace	;
	His	surcoat	o'er	his	arms	was	cloth	of	Thrace,
	Adorn'd	with	pearls,	all	orient,	round,	and	great	;
	His	saddle	was	of	gold,	with	emeralds	set.
	His	shoulders	large,	a	mantle	did	attire,
	With	rubies	thick,	and	sparkling	as	the	fire	:
	His	amber-colour'd	locks	in	ringlets	run,
	With	graceful	negligence,	and	shone	against	tl)*
	Sun,
	His	nose	was	aquiline,	his	eyes	were	blue,
	Ruddy	his	lips,	and	fresh	and	fair	his	hue	:
	Some	sprinkled	freckles	on	his	face	were	seen,
	Whose	dusk	set	off	the	whiteness	of	the	skin	:
	His	awful	presence	did	the	crowd	surprise,
	Nor	durst	the	rash	spectator	meet	his	eyes,
	Eyes	that	confess'd	him	born	for	kingly	sway,
	So	fierce,	they	flash'd	intolerable	day.


172
	DRYDEN.
	BOOK	III.
	His	age	in	Nature's	youthful	prime	appear'd,
	And	just	began	to	bloom	his	yellow	beard.
	Whene'er	he	spoke,	his	voice	was	heard	around,
	Loud	as	a	trumpet,	with	a	silver	sound	:
	A	laurel	wreath'd	his	temples,	fresh	and	green	;
	And	myrtle	sprigs,	the	marks	of	love,	were	mix'd
	between.
	Upon	his	fist	he	bore,	for	his	delight,
	An	eagle	well	reclaim	'd,	and	lily	white.
	His	hundred	knights	attend	him	to	the	war,
	All	arm'd	for	battle	;	save	their	heads	were	bare.
	"Words	and	devices	blaz'd	on	every	shield,
	And	pleasing	was	the	terrour	of	the	field.
	For	kings,	and	dukes,	and	barons	you	might	see,
	Like	sparkling	stars,	though	different	in	degree,
	All	for	th'	increase	of	arms,	and	love	of	chivalry.
	Before	the	king	tame	leopards	led	the	way,
	And	troops	of	lions	innocently	play.
	So	Bacchus	through	the	conquer'd	Indies	rode,
	And	beasts	in	gambols	frisk'd	before	the	honest	god.
	In	this	array	the	war	of	either	side
	Through	Athens	pass'd	with	military	pride.
	At	prime,	they	enter'd	on	the	Sunday	morn	;
	Rich	tapestry	spread	the	streets,	and	flowers	the
	posts	adorn.
	The	town	was	all	a	jubilee	of	feasts	;
	So	Theseus	will'd,	in	honour	of	his	guests	;
	Himself	with	open	arms	the	king	embrac'd,
	Then	all	the	rest	in	their	degrees	were	grac'd.
	No	harbinger	was	needful	for	a	night,
	For	every	house	was	proud	to	lodge	a	knight.
	I	pass	the	royal	treat,	nor	must	relate
	The	gifts	bestow'd,	nor	how	the	champions	sate	:
	Who	first,	or	last,-	or	how	the	knights	address'd
	Their	vows,	or	who	was	fairest	at	the	feast	;	[prise	;
	Whose	voice,	whose	graceful	dance,	did	most	sur-
	Soft	amorous	sighs,	and	silent	love	of	eyes.
	The	rivals	call	my	Muse	another	way,
	To	sing	their	vigils	for	th'	ensuing	day.
	'Twas	ebbing	darkness,	past	the	noon	of	night,
	And	Phospher,	on	the	confines	of	the	light,
	Promis'd	the	Sun,	ere	day	began	to	spring	;
	The	tuneful	lark	already	stretch'd	her	wing,	[sing:
	And,	flickering	on	her	nest,	made	short	essays	to
	When	wakeful	Palamon,	preventing	day,
	Took,	to	the	royal	lists,	his	early	way,
	To	Venus	at	her	fane,	in	her	own	house,	to	pray.
	There,	falling	on	his	knees	before	her	shrine,
	He	thus	implor'd	with	prayers	her	power	divine.
	"	Creator	Venus,	genial	power	of	love,
	The	bliss	of	men	below,	and	gods	above	!
	Beneath	the	sliding	Sun	thou	runn'st	thy	race,
	Dost	fairest	shine,	and	best	become	thy	place.
	For	thee	the	winds	their	eastern	blasts	forbear,
	Thy	month	reveals	the	spring,	and	opens	all	the	year.
	Thee,	Goddess,	thee	the	storms	of	winter	fly,
	Earth	smiles	with	flowers	renewing,	laughs	the	sky,
	And	birds	to	lays	of	love	their	tuneful	notes	apply.
	For	thee	the	lion	loaths	the	taste	of	blood,
	And	roaring	hunts	his	female	through	the	wood	:
	For	thee	the	bulls	rebellow	through	the	groves,
	And	tempt	the	stream,	and	snuff	their	absent	loves.
	'Tis	thine,	whate'er	is	pleasant,	good,	or	fair	:
	All	nature	is	thy	province,	life	thy	care	:
	Thou	mad'st	the	world,	and	dost	the	world	repair.
	Thou	gladder	of	the	mount	of	Cytheron,
	Increase	of	Jove,	companion	of	the	Sun	;
	If	e'er	Adonis	touch'd	thy	tender	heart,
	Have	pity,	goddess,	for	thou	know'st	the	smart.
	Alas	!	I	have	not	words	to	tell	my	grief;
	To	vent	my	sorrow,	would	be	some	relief;
	Light	sufferings	give	us	leisure	to	complain	;
	We	groan,	but	cannot	speak,	in	greater	pain.
	O	goddess,	tell	thyself	what	I	would	say,
	Thou	know'st	it,	and	I	feel	too	much	to	pray.
	So	grant	my	suit,	as	I	enforce	my	might,
	In	love	to	be	thy	champion,	and	thy	knight	;
	A	servant	to	thy	sex,	a	slave	to	thee,
	A	foe	profest	to	barren	chastity.
	Nor	ask	I	fame	or	honour	of	the	field,
	Nor	choose	I	more	to	vanquish	than	to	yield	:
	In	my	divine	Emilia	make	me	blest,
	Let	Fate,	or	partial	Chance,	dispose	the	rest	:
	Find	thou	the	manner,	and	the	means	prepare;
	Possession,	more	than	conquest,	is	my	care.
	Mars	is	the	warrior's	god	;	in	him	it	lies,
	On	whom	he	favours	to	confer	the	prize	;
	With	smiling	aspect	you	serenely	move
	In	your	fifth	orb,	and	rule	the	realm	of	love.
	The	Fates	but	only	spin	the	coarser	clue,
	The	finest	of	the	wool	is	left	for	you.
	Spare	me	but	one	small	portion	of	the	twine,
	And	let	the	sisters	cut	below	your	line	:
	The	rest	among	the	rubbish	may	they	sweep,
	Or	add	it	to	the	yarn	of	some	old	miser's	heap.
	But,	if	you	this	ambitious	prayer	deny,
	(A	wish,	I	grant,	beyond	mortality)
	Then	let	me	sink	beneath	proud	Arcite's	arms,
	And,	I	once	dead,	let	him	possess	her	charms."
	Thus	ended	he	;	then,	with	observance	due,
	The	sacred	incense	on	her	altar	threw	:
	The	curling	smoke	mounts	heavy	from	the	fires	;
	At	length	it	catches	flame,	and	in	a	blaze	expires	;
	At	once	the	gracious	goddess	gave	the	sign,
	Her	statue	shook,	and	trembled	all	the	shrine:
	Pleas'd	Palamon	the	tardy	omen	took	:
	For,	since	the	flames	pursu'd	the	trailing	smoke,
	He	knew	his	boon	was	granted	;	but	the	day	[lay.
	To	distance	driven,	and	joy	adjourn'd	with	long	de-
	Now	Morn	with	rosy	light	had	streak'd	the	sky,
	Up	rose	the	Sun,	and	up	rose	Emily	;
	Address'd	her	early	steps	to	Cynthia's	fane,
	In	state	attended	by	her	maiden	train,
	Who	bore	the	vests	that	holy	rites	require,
	Incense,	and	odorous	gums,	and	cover'd	fire.
	The	plenteous	horns	with	pleasant	mead	they	crown,
	Nor	wanted	aught	besides	in	honour	of	the	Moon.
	Now	while	the	temple	smok'd	with	hallow'd	steam,
	They	wash	the	virgin	in	a	living	stream	:
	The	secret	ceremonies	I	conceal,
	Uncouth,	perhaps	unlawful,	to	reveal	:
	But	such	they	were	as	pagan	use	requir'd,
	Perform'd	by	women	when	the	men	retir'd,
	Whose	eyes	prophane	their	chaste	mysterious	rites
	Might	turn	to	scandal,	or	obscene	delights.
	Well-meaners	think	no	harm	;	but	for	the	rest,
	Things	sacred	they	pervert,	and	silence	is	the	best.
	Her	shining	hair,	uncomb'd,	was	loosely	spread,
	A	crown	of	mastless	oak	adorn'd	her	head	:
	When	to	the	shrine	approach'd,	the	spotless	maid
	Had	kindling	tires	on	either	altar	laid,
	(The	rites	were	such	as	were	observ'd	of	old,
	By	Statius	in	his	Theban	story	told,)
	Then	kneeling	with	her	hands	across	her	breast,
	Thus	lowly	she	prefcrr'd	her	chaste	request.
	"	O	goddess,	haunter	of	the	woodland	green,
	To	whom	both	Heaven	and	Earth	and	seas	are	seen	;
	Queen	of	the	nether	skies,	where	half	the	year
	Thy	silver	beams	descend,	and	light	the	gloomy
	sphere	;
	Goddess-	of	maids,	and	conscious	of	our	hearts,
	So	keep	me	from	the	vengeance	of	thy	darts,


174
	DRYDEN.
	BOOK	III.
	The	bolted	gates	flew	open	at	the	blast,
	The	storm	rushed	in,	and	Arcite	stood	aghast	:
	The	flames	were	blown	aside,	yet	shone	they	bright,
	Fann'd	by	the	wind,	and	gave	a	ruffled	light.
	Then	from	the	ground	a	scent	began	to	rise,
	Sweet-smelling	as	accepted	sacrifice	:
	This	omen	pleas'd,	and	as	the	flames	aspire
	With	odorous	incense	Arcite	heaps	the	fire	:
	Nor	wanted	hymns	to	Mars,	or	heathen	charms	:
	At	length	the	nodding	statue	ctash'd	his	arms,
	And	with	a	sullen	sound	and	feeble	cry,
	Half	sunk,	and	halfpronounc'd,	the	word	of	victory.
	For	this,	with	soul	devout,	he	thank'd	the	god,
	And,	of	success	secure,	return'd	to	his	abode.
	These	vows	thus	granted,	raised	a	strife	above,
	Betwixt	the	god	of	war,	and	queen	of	love.
	She	granting	first,	had	right	of	time	to	plead	:
	But	he	had	granted	too,	nor	would	recede.
	Jove	was	for	Venus	;	but	he	fear'd	his	wife,
	And	seem'd	unwilling	to	decide	the	strife	:
	Till	Saturn	from	his	leaden	throne	arose,
	And	found	a	way	the	difference	to	compose	:
	Though	sparing	of	his	grace,	to	mischief	bent,
	He	seldom	does	a	good	with	good	intent.
	Wayward,	but	wise	;	by	long	experience	taught
	To	please	both	parties,	for	ill	ends,	he	sought	:
	For	this	advantage	age	from	youth	has	won,
	As	not	to	be	outridden,	though	outrun.
	By	Fortune	he	was	now	to	Venus	trin'd,
	And	with	stern	Mars	in	Capricorn	was	join'd	:
	Of	him	disposing	in	his	own	abode,
	He	sooth'	d	the	goddess	while	he	gull'd	the	god	:
	"	Cease,	daughter,	to	complain,	and	stint	the	strife	j
	Thy	Palamon	shall	have	his	promis'd	wife	:
	And	Mars,	the	lord	of	conquest,	in	the	fight
	With	palm	and	laurel	shall	adorn	his	knight.
	Wide	is	my	course,	nor	turn	I	to	my	place
	Till	length	of	time,	and	move	with	tardy	pace.
	Man	feels	me,	when	I	press	th'	etherial	plains,
	My	hand	is	heavy,	and	the	wound	remains.
	Mine	is	the	shipwreck,	in	a	watery	sign	;
	And	in	an	earthy,	the	dark	dungeon	mine.
	Cold	shivering	agues,	melancholy	care,
	And	bitter	blasting	winds,	and	poison'd	air,
	Are	mine,	and	wilful	death,	resulting	from	despair.
	The	throtling	quinsey	'tis	my	star	appoints,
	And	rheumatisms	ascend	to	rack	the	joints	:
	When	churls	rebel	against	their	native	prince,
	I	arm	their	hands,	and	furnish	the	pretence	;
	And,	housing	in	the	lion's	hateful	sign,
	Bought	senates	and	deserting	troops	are	mine.
	Mine	is	the	privy	poisoning	;	I	command
	Unkindly	seasons,	and	ungrateful	land.
	By	me	kings'	palaces	are	push'd	to	ground,
	And	miners	crush'd	beneath	their	mines	are	found.
	'Twas	I	slew	Samson,	when	the	pillar'd	hall
	Fell	down,	and	crush'd	the	many	with	the	fall.
	My	looking	is	the	fire	of	pestilence,
	That	sweeps	at	once	the	people	and	the	prince.
	Now	weep	no	more,	but	trust	thy	grandsire's	art.
	Mars	shall	be	pleas'd,	and	thou	perform	thy	part.
	*Tis	ill,	though	different	your	complexions	are,
	The	family	of	Heaven	for	men	should	war."
	Th*	expedient	pleas'd,	where	neither	lost	his	right;
	Mars	had	the	day,	and	Venus	had	the	night.
	The	management	they	left	to	Chronos'	care	;
	Now	turn	we	to	th'	effect,	and	sing	the	war.
	In	Athens	all	was	pleasure,	mirth,	and	play,
	All	proper	to	the	spring,	and	sprightly	May,
	Which	every	soul	inspir'd	with	such	delight,
	'Twas	jesting	all	the	day,	and	love	at	night.
	Heaven	smil'd,	and	gladded	was	the	heart	of	man	;
	And	Venus	had	the	world	as	when	it	first	began.
	At	length	in	sleep	then*	bodies	they	compose,
	And	dreamt	the	future	fight,	and	early	rose.
	Now	scarce	the	dawning	day	began	to	spring,
	As	at	a	signal	given,	the	streets	with	clamours	ring:
	At	once	the	crowd	arose	;	confus'd	and	high
	Ev'n	from	the	Heaven	was	heard	a	shouting	cry	;
	For	Mars	was	early	up,	and	rous'd	the	sky.
	The	gods	came	downward	to	behold	the	wars,
	Sharpening	their	sights,	and	leaning	from	their	stars.
	The	neighing	of	the	generous	horse	was	heard,
	For	battle	by	the	busy	groom	prepar'd,
	Rustling	of	harness,	rattling	of	the	shield,
	Clattering	of	armour,	furbish'd	for	the	field.
	Crowds	to	the	castle	mounted	up	the	street,
	Battering	the	pavement	with	their	coursers'	feet	:
	The	greedy	sight	might	there	devour	the	gold
	Of	glittering	arms,	too	dazzling	to	behold	:
	And	polish'd	steel	that	cast	the	view	aside,
	And	crested	morions,	with	their	plumy	pride.
	Knights,	with	a	long	retinue	of	their	squires,
	In	gaudy	liveries	march,	and	quaint	attires.
	One	lac'd	the	helm,	another	held	the	lance,
	A	third	the	shining	buckler	did	advance.
	The	courser	paw'd	the	ground	with	restless	feet,
	And	snorting	foam'd,	and	champ'd	the	golden	bit.
	The	smiths	and	armourers	on	palfreys	ride.
	Files	in	their	hands,	and	hammers	at	their	side,
	And	nails	for	loosen'd	spears,	and	thongs	for	shields
	provide.
	The	yeomen	guard	the	streets,	in	seemly	bands,
	An,d	clowns	come	crowding	on,	with	cudgels	in
	their	hands.
	The	trumpets,	next	the	gate,	in	order	plac'd,
	Attend	the	sign	to	sound	the	martial	blast	;
	The	palace-yard	is	fill'd	with	floating	tides,
	And	the	last	comers	bear	the	former	to	the	sides.
	The	throng	is	in	the	midst	;	the	common	crew
	Shut	out,	the	hall	admits	the	better	few	;
	In	knots	they	stand,	or	in	a	rank	they	walk,
	Serious	in	aspect,	earnest	in	their	talk	:
	Factious,	and	favouring	this	or	t'	other	side,
	As	their	strong	fancy	or	weak	reason	guide	:
	Their	wagers	back	their	wishes	;	numbers	hold
	With	the	fair	freckled	king,	and	beard	of	gold	:
	So	vigorous	are	his	eyes,	such	rays	they	cast,
	So	prominent	his	eagle's	beak	is	plac'd.
	But	most	their	looks	on	the	black	monarch	bend,
	His	rising	muscles	and	his	brawn	commend	;
	His	double-biting	axe	and	beaming	spear,
	Each	asking	a	gigantic	force	to	rear.
	All	spoke	as	partial	favour	mov'd	the	mind	:
	And,	safe	themselves,	at	others'	cost	divin'd.
	Wak'd	by	the	cries,	th'	Athenian	chief	arose,
	The	knightly	forms	of	combat	to	dispose	;
	And	passing	through	th'	obsequious	guards,	he	sate
	Conspicuous	on	a	throne,	sublime	in	state	;
	There,	for	the	two	contending	knights	he	sent	:
	Arm'd	cap-a-pee,	with	reverence	low	they	bent	;
	He	smil'd	on	both,	and	with	superior	look
	Alike	their	offer'd	adoration	took.
	The	people	press	on	every	side,	to	see
	Their	awful	prince,	and	hear	his	high	decree.
	Then	signing	to	their	heralds	with	liis	hand,
	They	gave	his	orders	from	their	lofty	stand.
	Silence	is	thrice	enjoin'd	;	then	thus	aloud
	The	king	at	arms	bespeaks	the	knights	and	listen-
	jng	crowd.
	"	Our	sovereign	lord	has	ponder	'd	in	his	mind
	The	means	to	spare	the	blood	of	gentle	kind	;


BOOK	III.
	PALAMON	AND	ARCITE.
	175
	And	of	his	grace,	and	inborn	clemency,
	He	modifies	his	first	severe	decree,
	The	keener	edge	of	battle	to	rebate,
	The	troops	for	honour	fighting,	not	for	hate.
	He	wills,	not	death	should	terminate	their	strife	;
	And	wounds,	if	wounds	ensue,	be	short	of	life	:
	But	issues,	ere	the	fight,	his	dread	command,
	That	slings	afar,	and	poinards	hand	to	hand,
	Be	banish'd	from	the	field	;	that	none	shall	dare
	With	shortened	sword	to	stab	in	closer	war	;
	But	in	fair	combat	fight	with	manly	strength,
	Nor	push	with	biting	point,	but	strike	at	length.
	The	tourney	is	allow'd	but	one	career,
	Of	the	tough	ash,	with	the	sharp-grinded	spear,
	But	knights	unhors'd	may	rise	from	off	the	plain,
	And	fight	on	foot	their	honour	to	regain	;
	Nor,	if	at	mischief	taken,	on	the	ground
	Be	slain,	but	prisoners	to	the	pillar	bound,
	At	either	barrier	plac'd	;	nor	(captives	made)
	Be	freed,	or	arm'd	anew	the	fight	invade.
	The	chief	of	either	side,	bereft	of	life,
	Or	yielded	to	his	foe,	concludes	the	strife,	[young
	Thus	dooms	the	lord	:	now	valiant	knights	and
	Fight	each	his	fill	with	swords	and	maces	long."
	The	herald	ends	:	the	vaulted	firmament
	With	loud	acclaims	and	vast	applause	is	rent	:
	"	Heaven	guard	a	prince	so	gracious	and	so	good,
	So	just,	and	yet	so	provident	of	blood	!"
	This	was	the	general	cry.	The	trumpets	sound,
	And	warlike	symphony	is	heard	around.
	The	marching	troops	through	Athens	take	their	way,
	The	great	earl-marshal	orders	their	array.
	The	fair	from	high	the	passing	pomp	behold	;
	A	rain	of	flowers	is	from	the	windows	roll'd.
	The	casements	are	with	golden	tissue	spread,
	And	horses'	hoofs,	for	earth,	on	silken	tapestry	tread	;
	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	thiee	and	three,
	Proceed	by	titles	marshall'd	in	degree.
	Thus	through	the	southern	gate	they	take	their	way,
	And	at	the	list	arriv'd	ere	prime	of	day.
	There,	parting	from	the	king,	the	chiefs	divide,
	And,	wheeling	east	and	west,	before	their	many	ride.
	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,
	In	rushed	at	once	a	rude	promiscuous	crowd	;
	The	guards	and	then	each	other	overbear,
	And	in	a	moment	throng	the	spacious	theatre.
	Now	chang'd	the	jarring	noise	to	whispers	low,
	As	winds	forsaking	seas	more	softly	blow	;
	When	at	the	western	gate,	on	which	the	car
	Is	plac'd	aloft,	that	bears	the	god	of	war,
	Proud	Arcite	entering	arm'd	before	his	train,
	Stops	at	the	barrier,	and	divides	the	plain.
	Red	was	his	banner,	and	display'd	abroad,
	The	bloody	colours	of	his	patron	god.
	At	that	self	moment	enters	Pal	;t	in	on
	The	gate	of	Venus,	and	the	rising-sun	;
	Wav'd	by	the	wanton	winds,	his	banner	flies,
	All	maiden	white,	and	shares	the	people's	eyes.
	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	could	no	distinction	make,
	Whore	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	the	care,
	The	fraud	of	musters	false,	the	common	bane	of	war.
	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	defy
	His	trumpet	sounds	;	the	challeng'd	makes	reply:
	With	clangor	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,
	And	spurring	see	decrease	the	middle	space.
	A	cloud	of	smoke	envelops	either	host,
	And	all	at	once	the	combatants	are	lost	:
	Darkling	they	join	adverse,	and	shock	unseen,
	Coursers	with	coursers	justling,	men	with	men	:
	As	labouring	in	eclipse,	awhile	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,
	The	next,	a	field	with	fallen	bodies	strow'd	:
	Not	half	the	number	in	their	seats	are	found	;
	But	men	and	steeds	lie	groveling	en	the	ground.
	The	points	of	spears	are	stuck	within	the	shield,
	The	steeds	without	their	riders	scour	the	field.
	The	knights	unhors'd,	on	foot	renew	the	fight	;
	The	glittering	faulchions	cast	a	gleaming	light	:
	Hauberks	and	helms	are	hew'd	with	many	a	wound.
	Out	spins	the	streaming	blood,	and	dyes	the	ground.
	The	mighty	maces	with	such	haste	descend,	[bend.
	They	break	the	bones,	and	make	the	solid	armour
	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,	floundering,	throws	the	rider	o'er	his	head.
	One	rolls	along,	a	foot-ball	to	his	foes	;
	One	with	a	broken	truncheon	deals	his	blows.
	This	halting,	this	disabled	with	his	wound,
	In	triumph	led,	is	to	the	pillar	bound,
	Where	by	the	king's	award	he	must	abide	:
	Tliere	goes	a	captive	led	on	t	'	other	side.
	By	fits	they	cease	;	and,	leaning	on	the	lance,
	Take	breath	awhile,	and	to	new	fight	advance.
	Full	oft	the	rivals	met,	and	neither	spar'd
	His	utmost	force,	and	each	forgot	to	ward.
	The	head	of	this	was	to	the	saddle	bent,
	The	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	faulchions	bite,	that	every	stroke
	Pierc'd	to	the	quick	;	and	equal	wounds	they	gave
	and	took.
	Borne	far	asunder	by	the	tides	of	men,
	Like	adamant	and	steel	they	meet	again.
	So	when	a	tiger	sucks	the	bullock's	blood,
	A	famish'd	lion,	issuing	from	the	wood,
	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	dis-
	tance	drive.
	At	length,	as	Fate	foredoom'd,	and	all	tilings	tend
	By	course	of	time	to	their	appointed	end	;


176
	DRYDEN.
	BOOK	IIL
	So	when	the	Sun	to	west	was	far	declined,
	And	both	afresh	in	mortal	battle	join'd,
	The	strong	Emetrius	came	in	Arcite's	aid,
	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	;
	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,
	Unyielded	as	he	was,	and	to	the	pillar	bound	;
	And	king	Lycurgus,	while	he	fought	in	vain
	His	friend	to	free,	was	tumbled	on	the	plain.
	Who	now	laments	but	Palamon,	compell'd
	No	more	to	try	the	fortune	of	the	field	!
	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,
	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	;
	All	own	the	chief,	when	Fortune	owns	the	cause.
	Arcite	is	own'd	ev'n	by	the	gods	above,
	And	conquering	Mars	insults	the	queen	of	love.
	So	laugh'd	he,	when	the	rightful	Titan	fail'd,
	And	Jove's	usurping	arms	in	Heaven	prevail'd	:
	Laugh'd	all	the	powers	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,
	And,	in	her	champion	foil'd,	the	cause	of	Love	is
	lost.
	Till	Saturn	said,	"	Fair	daughter,	now	be	still,
	The	blustering	fool	has	satisfy	'd	his	will	;
	His	boon	is	given	;	his	knight	has	gain'd	the	day,
	But	lost	the	prize,	th'	arrears	are	yet	to	pay.
	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,	Heaven	and	Earth	resound	;
	A	miracle	(nor	less	it	could	be	call'd)
	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.
	Then,	spurring	at	full	speed,	ran	endlong	on
	Where	Theseus	sate	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	:
	A	sweet	regard	the	gracious	virgin	lent
	(For	women,	to	the	brave	an	easy	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	:
	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,
	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.
	The	saddle-bow,	the	noble	parts	had	prest,
	All	bruis'd	and	mortify'd	his	manly	breast.
	Him	still	entranc'd,	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,
	The	word	he	first	pronounc'd	was	Emily.
	Meantime	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).
	Compos'd	his	looks	to	counterfeited	cheer,
	And	bade	them	not	for	Arcite's	life	to	fear.
	But	that	which	gladded	all	the	warrior-train,
	Though	most	were	sorely	wounded,	none	were	slain.
	The	surgeons	soon	despoil'd	them	of	their	arms,
	And	some	with	salves	they	cure,	and	some	with
	charms	;
	Foment	the	bruises,	and	the	pains	assuage,	[of	sage.
	And	heal	their	inward	hurts	with	sovereign	draughts
	The	king	in	person	visits	all	around,
	Comforts	the	sick,	congratulates	the	sound	;
	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	venturous	knight	is	from	the	saddle	thrown	j
	Bjut	'tis	the	fault	of	Fortune,	not	his	own	:
	JNpCwds	and	palms	the	conquering	side	adorn,
	The	victor	under	better	stars	was	born	.
	The	brave	man	seeks	not	popular	applause,
	Nor,	overpower'd	with	arms,	deserts	his	cause	;
	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	differing	parts,
	For	envy	never	dwells	in	noble	hearts.
	At	length	they	took	their	leave,	the	time	expir'd,
	Well	pleas'd,	and	to	their	several	homes	retir'd.	,
	Meanwhile	the	health	of	Arcite	still	impairs	;
	From	bad	proceeds	to	worse,	and	mocks	the	leeches*
	cares	;
	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	;
	All	outward	remedies	and	inward	fail':
	The	mold	of	Nature's	fabric	is	destroyed,
	Her	vessels	discompos'd,	her	virtue	void	:
	The	bellows	of	his	lungs	begin	to	swell,
	All	out	of	frame	is	every	secret	cell,
	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	vomit's	upward	aid,	nor	downward	laxative.
	The	midmost	region	batter'd	and	destroy'd,
	When	Nature	cannot	work,	th'	effect	of	Art	is	void.
	For	physic	can	but	mend	our	crazy	state,
	Patch	an	old	building,	not	a	new	create.
	Arcite	is	doom'd	to	die	in	all	his	pride,
	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	physic	works	the	last)
	Caus'd	him	to	send	for	Emily	in	haste.


178
	DRYDEN.
	BOOK	III.
	Bare	was	his	manly	visage	on	the	bier	:
	Menac'd	his	countenance	;	ev'n	in	death	severe.
	Then	to	the	palace-hall	they	bore	the	knight,
	To	lie	in	solemn	state,	a	public	sight.
	Groans,	cries,	and	howlings,	fill	the	crowded	place,
	And	unaffected	sorrow	sat	on	every	face.
	Sad	Palamon	above	the	rest	appears,
	In	sable	garments,	dew'd	with	gushing	tears	:
	His	auburn	locks	on	either	shoulder	flow'd,
	Which	to	the	funeral	of	his	friend	he	vow'd	:
	But	Emily,	as	chief,	was	next	his	side,
	A	virgin-widow,	and	a	mourning	bride.
	And,	that	the	princely	obsequies	might	be
	Perform'd	according	to	his	high	degree,
	The	steed,	that	bore	him	living	to	the	fight,
	Was	trapp'd	with	polish'd	steel,	all	shining	bright,
	And	cover'd	with	th'	achievements	of	the	knight.
	The	riders	rode	abreast,	and	one	his	shield,
	His	lance	of	cornel-wood	another	held	;
	The	third	his	bow,	and,	glorious	to	behold,
	The	costly	quiver,	all	of	burnish'd	gold.
	The	noblest	of	the	Grecians	next	appear,
	And,	weeping,	on	their	shoulders	bore	the	bier	;
	With	sober	pace	they	march	'd,	and	often	staid,
	And	through	the	master-street	the	corpse	convey'd.
	The	houses	to	their	tops	with	black	were	spread,
	And	ev'n	the	pavements	were	with	mourning	hid.
	The	right	side	of	the	pall	old	Egeus	kept,
	And	on	the	left	the	royal	Theseus	wept	;
	Each	bore	a	golden	bowl,	of	work	divine,	[wine.
	With	honey	fill'd,	and	milk,	and	mix'd	with	ruddy
	Then	Palamon,	the	kinsman	of	the	slain,
	And	after	him	appear'd	the	illustrious	train.
	To	grace	the	pomp,	came	Emily	the	bright
	With	cover'd	fire,	the	funeral	pile	to	light.
	With	high	devotion	was	the	service	made,
	And	all	the	rites	of	pagan-honour	paid	:
	So	lofty	was	the	pile,	a	Parthian	bow,
	With	vigour	drawn,	must	send	the	shaft	below.
	The	bottom	was	full	twenty	fathom	broad,
	With	crackling	straw	beneath	in	due	proportion
	strow'd.
	The	fabric	seem'd	a	wood	of	rising	green,
	With	sulphur	and	bitumen	cast	between,
	To	feed	the	flames	:	the	trees	were	unctuous	fir,
	And	mountain	ash,	the	mother	of	the	spear	;
	The	mourner	yew	and	builder	oak	were	there	:
	The	beech,	the	swimming	alder,	and	the	plane,
	Hard	box,	and	linden	of	a	softer	grain,	[ordain.
	And	laurels,	which	the	gods	for	conquering	chiefs
	How	they	were	rank'd,	shall	rest	untold	by	me,
	With	nameless	nymphs	that	liv'd	in	every	tree	;
	Nor	how	the	Dryads,	or	the	woodland	train,
	Disherited,	ran	howling	o'er	the	plain	:
	Nor	how	the	birds	to	foreign	seats	repair'd,
	'Or	beasts,	that	bolted	out,	and	saw	the	forest	bar'd	:
	Nor	how	the	ground,	now	clear'd,	with	ghastly	fright
	Beheld	the	sudden	Sun,	a	stranger	to	the	light.
	The	straw,	as	first	I	said,	was	laid	below	:
	Of	chips	and	sere-	wood	was	the	second	row	;
	The	third	of	greens,	and	timber	newly	fell'd	;
	The	fourth	high	stage	the	fragrant	odours	held,
	And	pearls,	and	precious	stones,	and	rich	array,
	In	midst	of	which,	embalm'd,	the	body	lay.
	The	service	sung,	the	maid	with	mourning	eyes
	The	stubble	fir'd	;	the	smouldering	flames	arise	:
	This	office	done,	she	sunk	upon	the	ground	;
	But	what	she	spoke,	recover'd	from	her	swoon,
	I	want	the	wit	in	moving	words	to	dress	;
	But	by	themselves	the	tender	sex	may	guess.
	j	While	the	devouring	fire	was	burning	fast,
	Rich	jewels	in	the	flame	the	wealthy	cast	;
	And	some	their	shields,	and	some	their	lances	threw,
	And	gave	their	warrior's	ghost,	a	warrior's	due.
	Full	bowls	of	wine,	of	honey,	milk,	and	blood,
	Were	pour'd	upon	the	pile	of	burning	wood,
	And	hissing	flames	receive,	and	hungry	lick	the	food.
	Then	thrice	the	mounted	squadrons	ride	around
	The	fire,	and	Arcite's	name	they	thrice	resound	;
	Hail,	and	farewell,	they	shouted	thrice	amain,
	Thrice	facing	to	the	left,	and	thrice	they	turn'd	again	:
	Still	as	they	turn'd,	they	beat	their	clattering	shields	;
	The	women	mix	their	cries	;	and	Clamour	fills	the
	fields.
	j	The	warlike	wakes	continued	all	the	night,	[light.
	And	funeral	games	were	play'd	at	new	returning
	Who,	naked,	wrestled	best,	besmear'd	with	oil,
	Or	who	with	gauntlets	gave	or	took	the	foil,
	I	will	not	tell	you,	nor	would	you	attend	;
	But	briefly	haste	to	my	long	story's	end.
	I	pass	the	rest	;	the	year	was	fully	mourn	'd,
	j	And	Palamon	long	since	to	Thebes	return'd	:
	j	When,	by	the	Grecians'	general	consent,
	j	At	Athens	Theseus	held	his	parliament	:
	I	Among	the	laws	that	pass'd,	it	was	decreed,
	That	conquer	'd	Thebes	from	bondage	should	be
	freed	;
	!	Reserving	homage	to	th'	Athenian	throne,
	To	which	the	sovereign	summon'd	Palamon.
	Unknowing	of	the	cause,	he	took	his	way,
	Mournful	in	mind,	and	still	in	black	array,	[high,
	The	monarch	mounts	the	throne,	and,	plac'd	on
	Commands	into	the	court	the	beauteous	Emily	:
	So	call'd,	she	came	;	the	senate	rose,	and	paid
	Becoming	reverence	to	the	royal	maid.
	And	first	soft	whispers	through	th'	assembly	went	:
	With	silent	wonder	then	they	watch'd	th'	event	:
	All	hush'd,	the	king	arose	with	awful	grace,	[face.
	Deep	thought	was	in	his	breast,	and	counsel	in	his
	At	length	he	sigh'd	;	and,	having	first	prepar'd
	Th'	attentive	audience,	thus	his	will	declar'd.
	"	The	Cause	and	Spring	of	Motion,	from	above.
	Hung	down	on	Earth	the	golden	chain	of	love	:
	Great	was	th'	effect,	and	high	was	his	intent,
	When	peace	among	the	jarring	seeds	he	sent,
	Fire,	flood,	and	earth,	and	air,	by	this	were	bound,
	And	love,	the	common	link,	the	new	creation
	crown'd.
	The	chain	still	holds	;	for,	though	the	forms	decay,
	Eternal	matter	never	wears	away	:
	The	same	first	Mover	certain	bounds	has	plac'd,
	How	long	those	perishable	forms	shall	last	:
	Nor	can	they	last	beyond	the	time	assign	'd
	By	that	all-seeing	and	all-making	Mind	:
	Shorten	their	hours	they	may	;	for	will	is	free	;
	But	never	pass	th'	appointed	destiny.
	So	men	oppress'd,	when	weary	of	their	breath,
	Throw	off'	the	burthen,	and	suborn	their	death.
	Then,	since	those	forms	begin,	and	have	their	end,
	On	some	unalter'd	cause	they	sure	depend	:
	Parts	of	the	whole	are	we	;	but	God	the	whole	;
	Who	gives	us	life	and	animating	soul	:
	For	Nature	cannot	from	a	part	derive
	That	being,	which	the	whole	can	only	give	:
	He	perfect,	stable	;	but	imperfect	we,
	Subject	to	change,	and	different	in	degree	;
	Plants,	beasts,	and	mail	;	and,	as	our	organs	are,
	We	more	or	less	of	his	perfection	share.
	But	by	a	long	descent,	th'	etherial	fire
	Corrupts	;	and	forms,	the	mortal	part,	expire


180
	DRYDEN.
	Resort	to	farmers	rich,	and	bless	their	halls,
	And	exorcise	the	beds,	and	cross	the	walls	:
	This	makes	the	fairy	quires	forsake	the	place,
	When	once	'tis	hallow'd	with	the	rites	of	grace	:
	But	in	the	walks	where	wicked	elves	have	been,
	The	learning	of	the	parish	now	is	seen,
	The	midnight	parson	posting	o'er	the	green,
	With	gown	tuck'd	up,	to	wakes,	'for	Sunday	next	;
	With	humming	ale	encouraging	his	text	;
	Nor	wants	the	holy	leer	to	country-girl	betwixt.
	From	fiends	and	imps	he	sets	the	village	free,
	There	haunts	not	any	incubus	but	he.
	The	maids	and	women	need	no	danger	fear
	To	walk	by	night,	and	sanctity	so	near	:
	For	by	some	haycock,	or	some	shady	thorn,
	He	bids	his	beads	both	even	song	and	morn.
	It	so	befell	in	this	king	Arthur's	reign,
	A	lusty	knight	was	pricking	o'er	the	plain	;
	A	bachelor	he	was,	and	of	the	courtly	train.
	It	happen'd,	as	he	rode,	a	damsel	gay
	In	russet	robes	to	market	took	her	way	:
	Soon	on	the	girl	he	cast	an	amorous	eye,
	So	straight	she	walk'd,	and	on	her	pasterns	high	:
	If	seeing	her	behind	he	lik'd	her	pace,
	Now	turning	short,	he	better	likes	her	face.
	He	lights	in	haste,	and,	full	of	youthful	fire,
	By	force	accomplished	his	obscene	desire	:
	This	done,	away	he	rode,	not	unespy'd,
	For	swarming	at	his	back	the	country	cry'd	:
	And	once	in	view	they	never	lost	the	sight,
	But	seiz'd,	and	pinion'd,	brought	to	court	the	knight.
	Then	courts	of	kings	were	held	in	high	renown,
	Ere	made	the	common	brothels	of	the	town	:
	There,	virgins	honourable	vows	receiv'd,
	But	chaste	as	maids	in	monasteries	iiv'd	:
	The	king	himself,	to	nuptial	ties	a	slave,
	No	bad	example	to	his	poets	gave	:
	And	they,	not	bad,	but	in	a	vicious	age,
	Had	not,	to	please	the	prince,	debauch'd	the	stage.
	Now	what	should	Arthur	do?	He	lov'd	the
	knight,
	But	sovereign	monarchs	are	the	source	of	right	:
	Mov'd	by	the	damsel's	tears	and	common	cry,
	He	doom'd	the	brutal	ravisher	to	die.
	But	fair	Geneura	rose	in	his	defence,
	And	pray'd	so	hard	for	mercy	from	the	prince.
	That	to	his	queen	the	king	th	offender	gave,
	And	left	it	in	her	power	to	kill	or	save	:
	This	gracious	act	the	ladies	all	approve,
	Who	thought	it	much	a	man	should	die	for	love	;
	And	with	their	mistress	join'd	in	close	debate
	(Covering	their	kindness	with	dissembled	hate)
	If	not	to	free	him,	to	prolong	his	fate.
	At	last	agreed	they	call'd	him	by	consent
	Before	the	queen	and	female	parliament.
	And	the	fair	speaker	rising	from	the	chair,
	Did	thus	the	judgment	of	the	house	declare,
	"	Sir	knight,	though	I	have	ask'd	thy	life,	yet	still
	Thy	destiny	depends	upon	my	will	:
	Nor	hast	thou	other	surety	than	the	grace
	Not	due	to	thee	from	our	offended	race.
	But	as	our	kind	is	of	a	softer	mold,
	And	cannot	blood	without	a	sigh	behold,
	I	grant	thee	life	:	reserving	still	the	power
	To	take	the	forfeit	when	I	see	my	hour:
	Unless	thy	answer	to	my	next	demand
	Shall	set	thee	free	from	our	avenging	hand.
	The	question,	whose	solution	I	require,
	Is,	What	the	sex	of	women	most	desire	?
	In	this	dispute	thy	judges	are	at	strife	;
	Beware	;	for	on	thy	wit	depends	thy	life,
	Yet	(lest,	surpris'd,	unknowing	what	to	say,
	Thou	damn	thyself)	we	give	thee	farther	day	:
	A	year	is	thine	to	wander	at	thy	will	;
	And	learn	from	others,	if	thou	want'st	the	skill.
	But,	not	to	hold	our	proffer	turn'd	in	scorn,
	Good	sureties	will	we	have	for	thy	return	;
	That	at	the	time	prefix'd	thou	shall	obey,
	And	at	thy	pledge's	peril	keep	thy	day."
	Woe	was	the	knight	at	this	severe	command	:
	But	well	he	knew	'twas	bootless	to	withstand	:
	The	terms	accepted	as	the	fair	ordain,
	He	put	in	bail	for	his	return	again,
	And	promis'd	answer	at	the	day	assign'd,
	The	best,	with	Heaven's	assistance,	he	could	find.
	His	leave	thus	taken,	on	his	way	he	went
	With	heavy	heart,	and	full	of	discontent,
	Misdoubting	much,	and	fearful	of	th'	event.
	'Twas	hard	the	truth	of	such	a	point	to	find,
	As	was	not	yet	agreed	among	the	kind.
	Thus	on	he	went	;	still	anxious	more	and	more,
	Ask'd	all	he	met,	and	knock'd	at	every	door	;
	Enquir'd	of	men	;	but	made	his	chief	request
	To	learn	from	women	what	they	lov'd	the	best.
	They	answer'd	each	according	to	her	mind
	To	please	herself,	not	all	the	female	kind.
	One	was	for	wealth,	another	was	for	place	:
	Crones,	old	and	ugly,	wish'd	a	better	face.
	The	widow's	wish	was	oftentimes	to	wed	;
	The	wanton	maids	were	all	for	sport	a-bed.
	Some	said	the	sex	were	pleas'd	with	handsome	lies,
	And	some	gross	flattery	lov'd	without	disguise	:
	"	Truth	is,"	says	one,	"	he	seldom	fails	to	win
	Who	flatters	well	;	for	that's	our	darling	sin	:
	But	long	attendance,	and	a	duteous	mind,
	Will	work	ev'n	with	the	wisest	of	the	kind."
	One	thought	the	sex's	prime	felicity
	Was	from	the	bonds	of	wedlock	to	be	free	:
	Their	pleasures,	hours,	and	actions,	all	their	own,
	And	uncontrol'd	to	give	account	to	none.
	Some	wish	a	husband-fool	:	but	such	are	curst,
	For	fools	perverse	of	husbands	are	the	worst	:
	All	women	would	be	counted	chaste	and	wise,
	Nor	should	our	spouses	see,	but	with	our	eyes	;
	For	fools	will	prate	;	and	though	they	want	the	wit
	To	find	close	faults,	yet	open	blots	will	hit	:
	Though	better	for	their	ease	to	hold	their	tongue,
	For	woman-kind	was	never	in	the	wrong.
	So	noise	ensues,	and	quarrels	last	for	life	;
	The	wife	abhors	the	fool,	the	fool	the	wife.
	And	some	men	say	that	great	delight	have	we,
	To	be	for	truth	extoll'd,	and	secrecy	:
	And	constant	in	one	purpose	still	to	dwell	;
	And	not	our	husbands'	counsels	to	reveal.
	But	that's	a	fable	:	for	our	sex	is	frail,
	Inventing	rather	than	not	tell	a	tale.
	Like	leaky	sieves	no	secrets	we	can	hold	:
	Witness	the	famous	tale	that	Ovid	told.
	Midas	the	king,	as	in	his	book	appears,
	By	Phoebus	was	endow'd	with	ass's	ears,
	Which	under	his	long	locks	he	well	conceal'd,
	As	monarchs'	vices	must	not	be	reveal'd,
	For	fear	the	people	have	them	in	the	wind,
	Who	long	ago	were	neither	dumb	nor	blind	:
	Nor	apt	to	think	from	Heaven	their	title	springs,
	Since	Jove	and	Mars	left	oft'	begetting	kings.
	This	Midas	knew	:	and	durst	communicate
	To	none	but	to	his	wife	his	ears	of	state	:
	One	must	be	trusted,	and	he	thought	her	fit,
	As	passing	prudent,	and	a	parlous	wit.
	To	this	sagacious	ccnfessor	he	went,
	And	told	her	what	a	gift	the	gods	had	sent	: