BOOK III.

The day approached when Fortune should decide

The important enterprise, and give the bride;

For now the rivals round the world had sought,

And each his number, 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 seemed alone:

Beside the champions, all of high degree,

Who knighthood loved, and deeds of chivalry,

Thronged to the lists, and envied to behold

The names of others, not their own, enrolled.

Nor seems it strange; for every noble knight

Who loves the fair, and is endued with might,

In such a quarrel would be proud to fight.

There breathes not scarce a man on British ground

(An isle for love and arms of old renowned)

But would have sold his life to purchase fame,

To Palamon or Arcite sent his name;

And had the land selected of the best,

Half had come hence, and let the world provide the rest.

A hundred knights with Palamon there came,

Approved in fight, and men of mighty name;

Their arms were several, as their nations were,

But furnished all alike with sword and spear.

Some wore coat armour, imitating scale,

And next their skins were stubborn shirts of mail;

Some wore a breastplate and a light juppon,

Their horses clothed 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 stun the foe;

One for his legs and knees provided well,

With jambeux armed, and double plates of steel;

This on his helmet wore a lady's glove,

And that a sleeve embroidered 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 rolled in his head,

And glared betwixt a yellow and a red;

He looked a lion with a gloomy stare,

And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair;

Big-boned and large of limbs, with sinews strong,

Broad-shouldered, and his arms were round and long.

Four milk-white bulls (the Thracian use of old)

Were yoked to draw his car of burnished gold.

Upright he stood, and bore aloft his shield,

Conspicuous from afar, and overlooked 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 coursed around his chair,

A match for pards in flight, in grappling for the bear;

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,

The trappings of his horse embossed with barbarous gold.

Not Mars bestrode a steed with greater grace;

His surcoat o'er his arms was cloth of Thrace,

Adorned 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-coloured locks in ringlets run,

With graceful negligence, and shone against the 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 confessed him born for kingly sway,

So fierce, they flashed intolerable day.

His age in nature's youthful prime appeared,

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 wreathed his temples, fresh, and green,

And myrtle sprigs, the marks of love, were mixed between.

Upon his fist he bore, for his delight,

An eagle well reclaimed, and lily white.

His hundred knights attend him to the war,

All armed for battle; save their heads were bare.

Words and devices blazed on every shield,

And pleasing was the terror of the field.

For kings, and dukes, and barons you might see,

Like sparkling stars, though different in degree,

All for the 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 conquered Indies rode,

And beasts in gambols frisked before their honest god.

In this array the war of either side

Through Athens passed with military pride.

At prime, they entered on the Sunday morn;

Rich tapestry spread the streets, and flowers the posts adorn.

The town was all a jubilee of feasts;

So Theseus willed in honour of his guests;

Himself with open arms the kings embraced,

Then all the rest in their degrees were graced.

No harbinger was needful for the night,

For every house was proud to lodge a knight.

I pass the royal treat, nor must relate

The gifts bestowed, nor how the champions sate;

Who first, who last, or how the knights addressed

Their vows, or who was fairest at the feast;

Whose voice, whose graceful dance did most surprise,

Soft amorous sighs, and silent love of eyes.

The rivals call my Muse another way,

To sing their vigils for the ensuing day.

'Twas ebbing darkness, past the noon of night:

And Phosphor, on the confines of the light,

Promised the sun; ere day began to spring,

The tuneful lark already stretched her wing,

And flickering on her nest, made short essays to sing.

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 implored with prayers her power divine:

"Creator Venus, genial power of love,

The bliss of men below, and gods above!

Beneath the sliding sun thou runst 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 loathes 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 madest 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 touched thy tender heart,

Have pity, Goddess, for thou knowest 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 knowest 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 professed 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:

Pleased Palamon the tardy omen took;

For since the flames pursued the trailing smoke,

He knew his boon was granted, but the day

To distance driven, and joy adjourned with long delay.

Now morn with rosy light had streaked the sky,

Up rose the sun, and up rose Emily;

Addressed 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 covered fire.

The plenteous horns with pleasant mead they crown

Nor wanted aught besides in honour of the Moon.

Now, while the temple smoked with hallowed 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 required,

Performed by women when the men retired,

Whose eyes profane 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, uncombed, was loosely spread,

A crown of mastless oak adorned her head:

When to the shrine approached, the spotless maid

Had kindling fires on either altar laid;

(The rites were such as were observed of old,

By Statius in his Theban story told.)

Then kneeling with her hands across her breast,

Thus lowly she preferred 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,

(Which Niobe's devoted issue felt,

When hissing through the skies the feathered deaths

were dealt,)

"As I desire to live a virgin life,

Nor know the name of mother or of wife.

Thy votress from my tender years I am,

And love, like thee, the woods and sylvan game.

Like death, thou knowest, I loathe the nuptial state,

And man, the tyrant of our sex, I hate,

A lowly servant, but a lofty mate;

Where love is duty on the female side,

On theirs mere sensual gust, and sought with surly pride.

Now by thy triple shape, as thou art seen

In heaven, earth, hell, and everywhere a queen,

Grant this my first desire; let discord cease,

And make betwixt the rivals lasting peace:

Quench their hot fire, or far from me remove

The flame, and turn it on some other love;

Or if my frowning stars have so decreed,

That one must be rejected, one succeed,

Make him my lord, within whose faithful breast

Is fixed my image, and who loves me best.

But oh! even that avert! I choose it not,

But take it as the least unhappy lot.

A maid I am, and of thy virgin train;

Oh, let me still that spotless name retain!

Frequent the forests, thy chaste will obey,

And only make the beasts of chase my prey!"

The flames ascend on either altar clear,

While thus the blameless maid addressed her prayer.

When lo! the burning fire that shone so bright

Flew off, all sudden, with extinguished light,

And left one altar dark, a little space,

Which turned self-kindled, and renewed the blaze;

That other victor-flame a moment stood,

Then fell, and lifeless, left the extinguished wood;

For ever lost, the irrevocable light

Forsook the blackening coals, and sunk to night:

At either end it whistled as it flew,

And as the brands were green, so dropped the dew,

Infected as it fell with sweat of sanguine hue.

The maid from that ill omen turned her eyes,

And with loud shrieks and clamours rent the skies;

Nor knew what signified the boding sign,

But found the powers displeased, and feared the wrath divine.

Then shook the sacred shrine, and sudden light

Sprung through the vaulted roof, and made the temple bright.

The Power, behold! the Power in glory shone,

By her bent bow and her keen arrows known;

The rest, a huntress issuing from the wood,

Reclining on her cornel spear she stood.

Then gracious thus began: "Dismiss thy fear,

And Heaven's unchanged decrees attentive hear:

More powerful gods have torn thee from my side,

Unwilling to resign, and doomed a bride;

The two contending knights are weighed above;

One Mars protects, and one the Queen of Love:

But which the man is in the Thunderer's breast;

This he pronounced, 'Tis he who loves thee best.'

The fire that, once extinct, revived again

Foreshows the love allotted to remain.

Farewell!" she said, and vanished from the place;

The sheaf of arrows shook, and rattled in the case.

Aghast at this, the royal virgin stood,

Disclaimed, and now no more a sister of the wood:

But to the parting Goddess thus she prayed:

"Propitious still, be present to my aid,

Nor quite abandon your once favoured maid."

Then sighing she returned; but smiled betwixt,

With hopes, and fears, and joys with sorrows mixt.

The next returning planetary hour

of Mars, who shared the heptarchy of power,

His steps bold Arcite to the temple bent,

To adorn with pagan rites the power armipotent:

Then prostrate, low before his altar lay,

And raised his manly voice, and thus began, to pray:

"Strong God of Arms, whose iron sceptre sways

The freezing North, and Hyperborean seas,

And Scythian colds, and Thracia's wintry coast,

Where stand thy steeds, and thou art honoured most:

There most, but everywhere thy power is known,

The fortune of the fight is all thy own:

Terror is thine, and wild amazement, flung

From out thy chariot, withers even the strong;

And disarray and shameful rout ensue,

And force is added to the fainting crew.

Acknowledged as thou art, accept my prayer!

If aught I have achieved deserve thy care,

If to my utmost power with sword and shield

I dared the death, unknowing how to yield,

And falling in my rank, still kept the field;

Then let my arms prevail, by thee sustained,

That Emily by conquest may be gained.

Have pity on my pains; nor those unknown

To Mars, which, when a lover, were his own.

Venus, the public care of all above,

Thy stubborn heart has softened into love:

Now, by her blandishments and powerful charms,

When yielded she lay curling in thy arms,

Even by thy shame, if shame it may be called,

When Vulcan had thee in his net enthralled;

O envied ignominy, sweet disgrace,

When every god that saw thee wished thy place!

By those dear pleasures, aid my arms in fight,

And make me conquer in my patron's right:

For I am young, a novice in the trade,

The fool of love, unpractised to persuade,

And want the soothing arts that catch the fair,

But, caught my self, lie struggling in the snare;

And she I love or laughs at all my pain

Or knows her worth too well, and pays me with disdain.

For sure I am, unless I win in arms,

To stand excluded from Emilia's charms:

Nor can my strength avail, unless by thee

Endued with force I gain the victory;

Then for the fire which warmed thy generous heart,

Pity thy subject's pains and equal smart.

So be the morrow's sweat and labour mine,

The palm and honour of the conquest thine:

Then shall the war, and stern debate, and strife

Immortal be the business of my life;

And in thy fane, the dusty spoils among,

High on the burnished roof, my banner shall be hung,

Ranked with my champion's bucklers; and below,

With arms reversed, the achievements of my foe;

And while these limbs the vital spirit feeds,

While day to night and night to day succeeds,

Thy smoking altar shall be fat with food

Of incense and the grateful steam of blood;

Burnt-offerings morn and evening shall be thine,

And fires eternal in thy temple shine.

The bush of yellow beard, this length of hair,

Which from my birth inviolate I bear,

Guiltless of steel, and from the razor free,

Shall fall a plenteous crop, reserved for thee.

So may my arms with victory be blest,

I ask no more; let Fate dispose the rest."

The champion ceased; there followed in the close

A hollow groan; a murmuring wind arose;

The rings of iron, that on the doors were hung,

Sent out a jarring sound, and harshly rung:

The bolted gates blew open at the blast,

The storm rushed in, and Arcite stood aghast:

The flames were blown aside, yet shone they bright,

Fanned by the wind, and gave a ruffled light.

Then from the ground a scent began to rise,

Sweet smelling as accepted sacrifice:

This omen pleased, 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 clashed his arms,

And with a sullen sound and feeble cry,

Half sunk and half pronounced the word of Victory.

For this, with soul devout, he thanked the God,

And, of success secure, returned 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 feared his wife,

And seemed 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 trined,

And with stern Mars in Capricorn was joined:

Of him disposing in his own abode,

He soothed the Goddess, while he gulled the God:

"Cease, daughter, to complain, and stint the strife;

Thy Palamon shall have his promised 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 the 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 poisoned air,

Are mine, and wilful death, resulting from despair.

The throttling quinsey 'tis my star appoints,

And rheumatisms I send 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 pushed to ground,

And miners crushed beneath their mines are found.

'Twas I slew Samson, when the pillared hall

Fell down, and crushed the many with the fall.

My looking is the sire of pestilence,

That sweeps at once the people and the prince.

Now weep no more, but trust thy grandsire's art,

Mars shall be pleased, and thou perform thy part.

'Tis ill, though different your complexions are,

The family of Heaven for men should war."

The expedient pleased, 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 the effect, and sing the war.

In Athens all was pleasure, mirth, and play,

All proper to the spring and sprightly May:

Which every soul inspired with such delight,

'Twas justing all the day, and love at night.

Heaven smiled, and gladded was the heart of man;

And Venus had the world as when it first began.

At length in sleep their 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; confused and high,

Even from the heaven was heard a shouting cry,

For Mars was early up, and roused 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 prepared:

Rustling of harness, rattling of the shield,

Clattering of armour, furbished 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 polished 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 laced the helm, another held the lance;

A third the shining buckler did advance.

The courser pawed the ground with restless feet,

And snorting foamed, and champed the golden bit.

The smiths and armourers on palfreys ride,

Files in their hands, and hammers at their side,

And nails for loosened spears and thongs for shields provide.

The yeomen guard the streets in seemly bands;

And clowns come crowding on, with cudgels in their hands.

The trumpets, next the gate, in order placed,

Attend the sign to sound the martial blast:

The palace yard is filled 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 fancies and 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 placed.

But most their looks on the black monarch bend;

His rising muscles and his brawn commend;

His double-biting axe, and beamy spear,

Each asking a gigantic force to rear.

All spoke as partial favour moved the mind;

And, safe themselves, at others' cost divined.

Waked by the cries, the Athenian chief arose,

The knightly forms of combat to dispose;

And passing through the obsequious guards, he sate

Conspicuous on a throne, sublime in state;

There, for the two contending knights he sent;

Armed cap-a-pie, with reverence low they bent;

He smiled on both, and with superior look

Alike their offered adoration took.

The people press on every side to see

Their awful Prince, and hear his high decree.

Then signing to their heralds with his hand,

They gave his orders from their lofty stand.

Silence is thrice enjoined; then thus aloud

The king-at-arms bespeaks the knights and listening crowd:

"Our sovereign lord has pondered in his mind

The means to spare the blood of gentle kind;

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 poniards hand to hand,

Be banished 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 turney is allowed but one career

Of the tough ash, with the sharp-grinded spear;

But knights unhorsed 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 placed; nor, captives made,

Be freed, or armed anew the fight invade:

The chief of either side, bereft of life,

Or yielded to his foe, concludes the strife.

Thus dooms the lord: now valiant knights and young,

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 window rolled.

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 three and three,

Proceed by titles marshalled in degree.

Thus through the southern gate they take their way,

And at the list arrived ere prime of day.

There, parting from the King, the chiefs divide,

And wheeling east and west, before their many ride.

The Athenian monarch mounts his throne on high,

And after him the Queen and Emily:

Next these, the kindred of the crown are graced

With nearer seats, and lords by ladies placed.

Scarce were they seated, when with clamours loud

In rushed at once a rude promiscuous crowd,

The guards, and then each other overbare,

And in a moment throng the spacious theatre.

Now changed the jarring noise to whispers low,

As winds forsaking seas more softly blow,

When at the western gate, on which the car

Is placed aloft that bears the God of War,

Proud Arcite entering armed before his train

Stops at the barrier, and divides the plain.

Red was his banner, and displayed abroad

The bloody colours of his patron god.

At that self moment enters Palamon

The gate of Venus, and the rising Sun;

Waved 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 matched were never to be found;

Such bodies built for strength, of equal age,

In stature sized; so proud an equipage:

The nicest eye could no distinction make,

Where lay the advantage, or what side to take.

Thus ranged, the herald for the last proclaims

A silence, while they answered to their names:

For so the king decreed, to shun with care

The fraud of musters false, the common bane of war.

The tale was just, and then the gates were closed;

And chief to chief, and troop to troop opposed.

The heralds last retired, and loudly cried,

"The fortune of the field be fairly tried!"

At this the challenger, with fierce defy,

His trumpet sounds; the challenged makes reply:

With clangour rings the field, resounds the vaulted sky.

Their vizors closed, their lances in the rest,

Or at the helmet pointed or the crest,

They vanish from the barrier, speed the race,

And spurring see decrease the middle space.

A cloud of smoke envelopes 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, a while they stay,

Till the next blast of wind restores the day.

They look anew: the beauteous form of fight

Is changed, and war appears a grisly sight.

Two troops in fair array one moment showed,

The next, a field with fallen bodies strowed:

Not half the number in their seats are found;

But men and steeds lie grovelling on the ground.

The points of spears are stuck within the shield,

The steeds without their riders scour the field.

The knights unhorsed, on foot renew the fight;

The glittering fauchions cast a gleaming light;

Hauberks and helms are hewed with many a wound,

Out spins the streaming blood, and dyes the ground.

The mighty maces with such haste descend,

They break the bones, and make the solid armour bend.

This thrusts amid the throng with furious force;

Down goes, at once, the horseman and the horse:

That courser stumbles on the fallen steed,

And, floundering, throws the rider o'er his head.

One rolls along, a football 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:

There goes a captive led on t'other side.

By fits they cease, and leaning on the lance,

Take breath a while, and to new fight advance.

Full oft the rivals met, and neither spared

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 unhorsed; the jealous blows

Fall thick and heavy, when on foot they close.

So deep their fauchions bite, that every stroke

Pierced to the quick; and equal wounds they gave and took.

Borne far asunder by the tides of men,

Like adamant and steel they met agen.

So when a tiger sucks the bullock's blood,

A famished lion issuing from the wood

Roars lordly fierce, and challenges the food.

Each claims possession, neither will obey,

But both their paws are fastened on the prey;

They bite, they tear; and while in vain they strive,

The swains come armed between, and both to distance drive.

At length, as Fate foredoomed, and all things tend

By course of time to their appointed end;

So when the sun to west was far declined,

And both afresh in mortal battle joined,

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 the unwary knight.

Deep was the wound; he staggered with the blow,

And turned him to his unexpected foe;

Whom with such force he struck, he felled him down,

And cleft the circle of his golden crown.

But Arcite's men, who now prevailed in fight,

Twice ten at once surround the single knight:

O'erpowered 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, compelled

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 placed,

Who had beheld the fight from first to last,

Bade cease the war; pronouncing from on high,

Arcite of Thebes had won the beauteous Emily.

The sound of trumpets to the voice replied,

And round the royal lists the heralds cried,

"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 owned even by the gods above,

And conquering Mars insults the Queen of Love.

So laughed he when the rightful Titan failed,

And Jove's usurping arms in heaven prevailed.

Laughed 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 distilled her tears;

Her will refused, which grieves a woman most,

And, in her champion foiled, the cause of Love is lost.

Till Saturn said:--"Fair daughter, now be still,

"The blustering fool has satisfied his will;

His boon is given; his knight has gained the day,

But lost the prize; the 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 called)

Their joy with unexpected sorrow palled.

The victor knight had laid his helm aside,

Part for his ease, the greater part for pride:

Bareheaded, popularly low he bowed,

And paid the salutations of the crowd;

Then spurring, at full speed, ran headlong on

Where Theseus sat on his imperial throne;

Furious he drove, and upward cast his eye,

Where, next the Queen, was placed 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 seized with sudden fright,

And, bounding, o'er the pummel cast the knight;

Forward he flew, and pitching on his head,

He quivered with his feet, and lay for dead.

Black was his countenance in a little space,

For all the blood was gathered in his face.

Help was at hand: they reared him from the ground,

And from his cumbrous arms his limbs unbound;

Then lanced a vein, and watched returning breath;

It came, but clogged with symptoms of his death.

The saddle-bow the noble parts had prest,

All bruised and mortified his manly breast.

Him still entranced, and in a litter laid,

They bore from field, and to his bed conveyed.

At length he waked; and, with a feeble cry,

The word he first pronounced was Emily.

Mean time the King, though inwardly he mourned,

In pomp triumphant to the town returned,

Attended by the chiefs who fought the field,

(Now friendly mixed, and in one troop compelled;)

Composed 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 despoiled them of their arms,

And some with salves they cure, and some with charms;

Foment the bruises, and the pains assuage,

And heal their inward hurts with sovereign draughts of sage.

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 disgraced; for falling is no shame,

And cowardice alone is loss of fame.

The venturous knight is from the saddle thrown,

But 'tis the fault of fortune, not his own;

If crowds and palms the conquering side adorn,

The victor under better stars was born:

The brave man seeks not popular applause,

Nor, overpowered with arms, deserts his canse;

Unshamed, though foiled, he does the best he can:

Force is of brutes, but honour is of man.

Thus Theseus smiled on all with equal grace,

And each was set according to his place;

With ease were reconciled the differing parts,

For envy never dwells in noble hearts.

At length they took their leave, the time expired,

Well pleased, and to their several homes retired.

Mean while, the health of Arcite still impairs;

From bad proceeds to worse, and mocks the leech's cares;

Swoln is his breast; his inward pains increase;

All means are used, and all without success.

The clottered 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 mould of nature's fabric is destroyed,

Her vessels discomposed, her virtue void:

The bellows of his lungs begins 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 abandoned life,

Nor vomit's upward aid, nor downward laxative.

The midmost region battered and destroyed,

When nature cannot work, the effect of art is void:

For physic can but mend our crazy state,

Patch an old building, not a new create.

Arcite is doomed to die in all his pride,

Must leave his youth, and yield his beauteous bride,

Gained hardly against right, and unenjoyed.

When 'twas declared all hope of life was past,

Conscience, that of all physic works the last,

Caused him to send for Emily in haste.

With her, at his desire, came Palamon;

Then, on his pillow raised, he thus begun:

"No language can express the smallest part

Of what I feel, and suffer in my heart,

For you, whom best I love and value most;

But to your service I bequeath my ghost;

Which, from this mortal body when untied,

Unseen, unheard, shall hover at your side;

Nor fright you waking, nor your sleep offend,

But wait officious, and your steps attend.

How I have loved, excuse my faltering tongue,

My spirit's feeble, and my pains are strong:

This I may say, I only grieve to die,

Because I lose my charming Emily.

To die, when Heaven had put you in my power!

Fate could not choose a more malicious hour.

What greater curse could envious Fortune give,

Than just to die when I began to live!

Vain men! how vanishing a bliss we crave;

Now warm in love, now withering in the grave!

Never, O never more to see the sun!

Still dark, in a damp vault, and still alone!

This fate is common; but I lose my breath

Near bliss, and yet not blessed before my death.

Farewell! but take me dying in your arms;

'Tis all I can enjoy of all your charms:

This hand I cannot but in death resign;

Ah, could I live! but while I live 'tis mine.

I feel my end approach, and thus embraced

Am pleased to die; but hear me speak my last:

Ah, my sweet foe! for you, and you alone,

I broke my faith with injured Palamon.

But love the sense of right and wrong confounds;

Strong love and proud ambition have no bounds.

And much I doubt, should Heaven my life prolong,

I should return to justify my wrong;

For while my former flames remain within,

Repentance is but want of power to sin.

With mortal hatred I pursued his life,

Nor he nor you were guilty of the strife;

Nor I, but as I loved; yet all combined,

Your beauty and my impotence of mind,

And his concurrent flame that blew my fire,

For still our kindred souls had one desire.

He had a moment's right in point of time;

Had I seen first, then his had been the crime.

Fate made it mine, and justified his right;

Nor holds this earth a more deserving knight

For virtue, valour, and for noble blood,

Truth, honour, all that is comprised in good;

So help me Heaven, in all the world is none

So worthy to be loved as Palamon.

He loves you too, with such a holy fire,

As will not, cannot, but with life expire:

Our vowed affections both have often tried,

Nor any love but yours could ours divide.

Then, by my love's inviolable band,

By my long suffering and my short command,

If e'er you plight your vows when I am gone,

Have pity on the faithful Palamon."

This was his last; for Death came on amain,

And exercised below his iron reign;

Then upward to the seat of life he goes;

Sense fled before him, what he touched he froze:

Yet could he not his closing eyes withdraw,

Though less and less of Emily he saw;

So, speechless, for a little space he lay;

Then grasped the hand he held, and sighed his soul away.

But whither went his soul? let such relate

Who search the secrets of the future state:

Divines can say but what themselves believe;

Strong proofs they have, but not demonstrative;

For, were all plain, then all sides must agree,

And faith itself be lost in certainty.

To live uprightly then is sure the best;

To save ourselves, and not to damn the rest.

The soul of Arcite went where heathens go,

Who better live than we, though less they know.

In Palamon a manly grief appears;

Silent he wept, ashamed to show his tears.

Emilia shrieked but once; and then, opprest

With sorrow, sunk upon her lover's breast:

Till Theseus in his arms conveyed with care

Far from so sad a sight the swooning fair.

'Twere loss of time her sorrow to relate;

Ill bears the sex a youthful lover's fate,

When just approaching to the nuptial state:

But, like a low-hung cloud, it rains so fast,

That all at once it falls, and cannot last.

The face of things is changed, and Athens now

That laughed so late, becomes the scene of woe.

Matrons and maids, both sexes, every state,

With tears lament the knight's untimely fate.

Not greater grief in falling Troy was seen

For Hector's death; but Hector was not then.

Old men with dust deformed their hoary hair;

The women beat their breasts, their cheeks they tear.

"Why wouldst thou go," with one consent they cry,

When thou hadst gold enough, and Emily?"

Theseus himself, who should have cheered the grief

Of others, wanted now the same relief:

Old Ægeus only could revive his son,

Who various changes of the world had known,

And strange vicissitudes of human fate,

Still altering, never in a steady state:

Good after ill and after pain delight,

Alternate, like the scenes of day and night.

Since every man who lives is born to die,

And none can boast sincere felicity,

With equal mind, what happens, let us bear,

Nor joy, nor grieve too much for things beyond our care.

Like pilgrims to the appointed place we tend;

The world's an inn, and death the journey's end.

Even kings but play, and when their part is done,

Some other, worse or better, mount the throne.

With words like these the crowd was satisfied;

And so they would have been, had Theseus died.

But he, their King, was labouring in his mind

A fitting place for funeral pomps to find,

Which were in honour of the dead designed.

And, after long debate, at last he found

(As Love itself had marked the spot of ground,)

That grove for ever green, that conscious laund,

Where he with Palamon fought hand to hand;

That, where he fed his amorous desires

With soft complaints, and felt his hottest fires,

There other flames might waste his earthly part,

And burn his limbs, where love had burned his heart.

This once resolved, the peasants were enjoined

Sere-wood, and firs, and doddered oaks to find.

With sounding axes to the grove they go,

Fell, split, and lay the fuel in a row;

Vulcanian food: a bier is next prepared,

On which the lifeless body should be reared,

Covered with cloth of gold; on which was laid

The corps of Arcite, in like robes arrayed.

White gloves were on his hands, and on his head

A wreath of laurel, mixed with myrtle, spread.

A sword keen-edged within his right he held,

The warlike emblem of the conquered field:

Bare was his manly visage on the bier;

Menaced his countenance, even in death severe.

Then to the palace-hall they bore the knight,

To lie in solemn state, a public sight:

Groans, cries, and bowlings fill the crowded place,

And unaffected sorrow sat on every face.

Sad Palamon above the rest appears,

In sable garments, dewed with gushing tears;

His auburn locks on either shoulder flowed,

Which to the funeral of his friend he vowed;

But Emily, as chief, was next his side,

A virgin-widow and a mourning bride.

And, that the princely obsequies might be

Performed according to his high degree,

The steed, that bore him living to the fight,

Was trapped with polished steel, all shining bright,

And covered with the atchievements 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 burnished gold.

The noblest of the Grecians next appear,

And weeping on their shoulders bore the bier;

With sober pace they marched, and often stayed,

And through the master-street the corps conveyed.

The houses to their tops with black were spread,

And even the pavements were with mourning hid.

The right side of the pall old Ægeus kept,

And on the left the royal Theseus wept;

Each bore a golden bowl of work divine,

With honey filled, and milk, and mixed with ruddy wine.

Then Palamon, the kinsman of the slain,

And after him appeared the illustrious train.

To grace the pomp came Emily the bright,

With covered 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 strowed.

The fabric seemed 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,

And laurels, which the gods for conquering chiefs ordain.

How they were ranked shall rest untold by me,

With nameless Nymphs that lived in every tree;

Nor how the Dryads and the woodland train,

Disherited, ran howling o'er the plain:

Nor how the birds to foreign seats repaired,

Or beasts that bolted out and saw the forests bared:

Nor how the ground now cleared 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 felled;

The fourth high stage the fragrant odours held,

And pearls, and precious stones, and rich array;

In midst of which, embalmed, the body lay.

The service sung, the maid with mourning eyes

The stubble fired; the smouldering flames arise:

This office done, she sunk upon the ground;

But what she spoke, recovered from her swound,

I want the wit in moving words to dress;

But by themselves the tender sex may guess.

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 the warrior's ghost a warrior's due.

Full bowls of wine, of honey, milk and blood

Were poured 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 turned again:

Still, as they turned, they beat their clattering shields;

The women mix their cries, and clamour fills the fields.

The warlike wakes continued all the night,

And funeral games were played at new returning light:

Who naked wrestled best, besmeared 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 mourned,

And Palamon long since to Thebes returned:

When, by the Grecians' general consent,

At Athens Theseus held his parliament;

Among the laws that passed, it was decreed,

That conquered Thebes from bondage should be freed;

Reserving homage to the Athenian throne,

To which the sovereign summoned Palamon.

Unknowing of the cause, he took his way,

Mournful in mind, and still in black array.

The monarch mounts the throne, and, placed on high,

Commands into the court the beauteous Emily.

So called, she came; the senate rose, and paid

Becoming reverence to the royal maid.

And first, soft whispers through the assembly went;

With silent wonder then they watched the event;

All hushed, the King arose with awful grace;

Deep thought was in his breast, and counsel in his face:

At length he sighed, and having first prepared

The attentive audience, thus his will declared:

"The Cause and Spring of motion from above

Hung down on earth the golden chain of Love;

Great was the 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 crowned.

The chain still holds; for though the forms decay,

Eternal matter never wears away:

The same first mover certain bounds has placed,

How long those perishable forms shall last;

Nor can they last beyond the time assigned

By that all-seeing and all-making Mind:

Shorten their hours they may, for will is free,

But never pass the appointed destiny.

So men oppressed, when weary of their breath,

Throw off the burden, and suborn their death.

Then, since those forms begin, and have their end,

On some unaltered 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 man; and, as our organs are,

We more or less of his perfection share.

But, by a long descent, the etherial fire

Corrupts; and forms, the mortal part, expire.

As he withdraws his virtue, so they pass,

And the same matter makes another mass:

This law the omniscient Power was pleased to give,

That every kind should by succession live;

That individuals die, his will ordains;

The propagated species still remains.

The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees,

Shoots rising up, and spreads by slow degrees;

Three centuries he grows, and three he stays,

Supreme in state, and in three more decays:

So wears the paving pebble in the street,

And towns and towers their fatal periods meet:

So rivers, rapid once, now naked lie,

Forsaken of their springs, and leave their channels dry.

So man, at first a drop, dilates with heat,

Then, formed, the little heart begins to beat;

Secret he feeds, unknowing, in the cell;

At length, for hatching ripe, he breaks the shell,

And struggles into breath, and cries for aid;

Then helpless in his mother's lap is laid.

He creeps, he walks, and, issuing into man,

Grudges their life from whence his own began;

Reckless of laws, affects to rule alone,

Anxious to reign, and restless on the throne;

First vegetive, then feels, and reasons last;

Rich of three souls, and lives all three to waste.

Some thus; but thousands more in flower of age,

For few arrive to run the latter stage.

Sunk in the first, in battle some are slain,

And others whelmed beneath the stormy main.

What makes all this, but Jupiter the king,

At whose command we perish, and we spring?

Then 'tis our best, since thus ordained to die,

To make a virtue of necessity;

Take what he gives, since to rebel is vain;

The bad grows better, which we well sustain;

And could we choose the time, and choose aright,

'Tis best to die, our honour at the height.

When we have done our ancestors no shame,

But served our friends, and well secured our fame;

Then should we wish our happy life to close,

And leave no more for fortune to dispose;

So should we make our death a glad relief

From future shame, from sickness, and from grief;

Enjoying while we live the present hour,

And dying in our excellence and flower.

Then round our death-bed every friend should run,

And joy us of our conquest early won;

While the malicious world, with envious tears,

Should grudge our happy end, and wish it theirs.

Since then our Arcite is with honour dead,

Why should we mourn, that he so soon is freed,

Or call untimely what the gods decreed?

With grief as just a friend may be deplored,

From a foul prison to free air restored.

Ought he to thank his kinsman or his wife,

Could tears recall him into wretched life?

Their sorrow hurts themselves; on him is lost,

And worse than both, offends his happy ghost.

What then remains, but after past annoy

To take the good vicissitude of joy;

To thank the gracious gods for what they give,

Possess our souls, and, while we live, to live?

Ordain we then two sorrows to combine,

And in one point the extremes of grief to join;

That thence resulting joy may be renewed,

As jarring notes in harmony conclude.

Then I propose that Palamon shall be

In marriage joined with beauteous Emily;

For which already I have gained the assent

Of my free people in full parliament.

Long love to her has borne the faithful knight,

And well deserved, had Fortune done him right:

'Tis time to mend her fault, since Emily

By Arcite's death from former vows is free;

If you, fair sister, ratify the accord,

And take him for your husband and your lord,

'Tis no dishonour to confer your grace

On one descended from a royal race;

And were he less, yet years of service past

From grateful souls exact reward at last.

Pity is Heaven's and yours; nor can she find

A throne so soft as in a woman's mind."

He said; she blushed; and as o'erawed by might,

Seemed to give Theseus what she gave the knight.

Then, turning to the Theban, thus he said:

"Small arguments are needful to persuade

Your temper to comply with my command:"

And speaking thus, he gave Emilia's hand.

Smiled Venus, to behold her own true knight.

Obtain the conquest, though he lost the fight;

And blessed with nuptial bliss the sweet laborious night.

Eros and Anteros on either side,

One fired the bridegroom, and one warmed the bride;

And long-attending Hymen from above

Showered on the bed the whole Idalian grove.

All of a tenor was their after-life,

No day discoloured with domestic strife;

No jealousy, but mutual truth believed,

Secure repose, and kindness undeceived.

Thus Heaven, beyond the compass of his thought,

Sent him the blessing he so dearly bought.

So may the Queen of Love long duty bless,

And all true lovers find the same success.

NOTES.

DEDICATION.

Her Grace the Duchess of Ormond was by birth Lady Margaret

Somerset. Her husband, to whom Dryden dedicated the volume of

the _Fables_, was one of King William's supporters. He had been with

him at the Battle of the Boyne, in the war on the Continent, had

received marked evidences of his favor, and stood by his bedside at his

death.

1 1. The bard. Chaucer, whose _Knight's Tale_, paraphrased as

_Palamon and Arcite_, Dryden dedicated in these verses.

1 10. An Alexandrine, i.e., a verse of six accented syllables instead

of five.

1 14. Plantagenet. The surname of the royal family of England

from Henry II. to Richard III.

1 18. noblest order. The Order of the Garter, which is the highest

order of knighthood in Great Britain, was founded by Edward III.

about 1348.

2 21, 22, 23. A triplet, i.e., three successive verses with the same

rhyme; one device of Dryden's to avoid monotony.

2 29. Platonic year. A great cycle of years, at the end of which it

was supposed that the celestial bodies will occupy the same positions

as at the creation.

2 42. westward. The Duchess' visit to Ireland.

2 43. benighted Britain. Deprived of the light of her Grace's

presence.

2 44. Triton. A son of Neptune, generally represented with the

body of a man and the tail of a fish. His duty was to calm the sea by

a blast on his conch-shell horn.

2 45. Nereids. Nymphs of the sea as distinguished from the

Naiads, nymphs of streams and lakes.

2 46. Etesian gale. The Etesian winds were any steady periodical

winds.

2 48. Portunus. A lesser sea-god, more particularly the harbor-god.

2 51, 52. In these verses Dryden shows us that he had not shaken

off entirely the conceits of his early verse.

2 53. Hibernia. Ireland.

2 56. His father and his grandsire. Ormond's father was the gallant

Earl of Ossory, and his grandsire, the first Duke of Ormond,

Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, the famous supporter of the Stuart cause.

3 58. Kerns. The Irish peasantry.

3 63. Venus is the promise of the sun. Venus, as morning star, is

visible in the east just before sunrise.

3 65. Pales. A Roman divinity of flocks and shepherds. Ceres.

The goddess of agriculture.

3 67. three campaigns. The Jacobites had found sympathy in Ireland

and made a stand there. Vigorous efforts were made by William

to dislodge them and subjugate the island; but years passed before

civil strife was ended and peace restored.

3 72. relics of mankind. The human beings preserved in the ark,

all that was left of mankind after the flood.

3 82, 83. Dryden copies Virgil's golden age,_Eclogue IV_., 39, 40.

3 87. venom never known. This refers to the absence of reptiles

in Ireland.

4 102. New from her sickness. Recently recovered from a serious

illness.

4 117. four ingredients. Earth, air, fire, water, then supposed to be

the elements of all created substances.

5 125. young Vespasian. Titus Vespasianus, the conqueror of

Jerusalem, was so impressed by the beauty of the Temple that he

wept as it was destroyed.

5 128. A most detested act of gratitude. The elegy which the

danger of her death rendered imminent. Detested because the occasion

for the act would fill him with grief.

5 131. Morley. A celebrated physician of the seventeenth century.

S 133. Macedon. Thessalus, the son of Hippocrates, a famous

physician of antiquity, who resided at the Macedonian court.

5 134. Ptolemy. One of Alexander the Great's generals, who became,

after the great conqueror's death, the ruler of Egypt.

5 138. you. Used here as a noun.

5 151. daughter of the rose. The Duchess of Ormond was a descendant of

Somerset, who plucked the red rose in the Temple garden when Plantagenet

plucked the white,--an incident which badged the houses of York and

Lancaster during the War of the Roses.

5 158. Penelope. The wife of Ulysses, during the long years of her

lord's absence, steadfastly withstood the persuasions of suitors, and

remained true to her husband.

6 162. Ascanius. The son of Aeneas. Elissa. Another name for Dido. It is

Andromache, not Dido, who in Virgil's narrative presents Ascanius with

the elaborately embroidered mantle. Aeneid, Bk. III., 483, etc.

6 168. wear the garter. Become a Knight of the Garter.

BOOK I.

7 2. Theseus. A legendary hero of Greece, son of Aegeus. He freed Athens

from human tribute to the Cretan Minotaur, with the assistance of

Ariadne, whom he deserted. Succeeded Aegeus as king of Athens.

Expedition against the Amazons resulted in a victory for him, and he

married their queen, Antiope, not Hippolyta, as in Chaucer, Shakspere,

and Dryden. He joined in Caledonian hunt, fought the Centaurs, attempted

to carry off Proserpina for Pirithous. On his return found his kingdom

usurped, and, retiring to Scyros, was treacherously killed by Lycomedes.

7 7. warrior queen. Hippolyta, daughter of Mars, queen of the

Amazons, here confused with her sister Antiope, whom legend makes

the bride of Theseus.

7 21. spousals. Espousal, marriage.

7 22. tilts and turneys. Notice the anachronism of the transfer

of the mediaeval sport to legendary Greece. Dryden follows Chaucer's

general method, though here the elder poet makes no such statement.

8 29. accidents. Happenings, literal derivation from _accidere_, to happen.

8 31. enjoined us by mine host. The host of the Tabard, whence

Chaucer led his Canterbury pilgrims, had proposed that each member

of the company tell two stories on the way to Canterbury, and two on

the return, and that the best narrator should receive a supper at the

expense of the others. The plan was not fulfilled, but such stories as

were told form Chaucer's _Canterbury Tales_.

8 50. weeds. Garments, not restricted to mourning garments.

9 76. Capaneus. One of the seven heroes who marched from Argos (not

Athens) against Thebes. He defied Jupiter and was struck by lightning as

he was scaling the walls. His wife, Evadne, leaped into the flames ahd

perished. In presenting her here, Dryden followed Chaucer.

9 81. Creon. King of Thebes, surrendered the city to Aedipus, who had

freed it from the sphinx, resumed rule after death of Aedipus' sons,

killed by his son Haeemon for cruelty to Antigone, daughter of Aedipus.

10 116. Minotaur. A monster lurking in the labyrinth of Crete,

which devoured the tribute of seven youths and seven maidens sent by

Athens every ninth year. It was slain by Theseus.

11 150. An Alexandrine verse.

11 160. An Alexandrine verse.

12 165. An Alexandrine verse.

12 169. morn of cheerful May. The conventional month for love

in the old poets. Dryden followed Chaucer.

12 186. Aurora. Goddess of the morning-red. Each morning she

rose from the couch of Tithonus, and drove swiftly from Oceanus to

Olympus to announce to gods and mortals the coming of day.

13 199. Philomel. Nightingale. Philomela, dishonored by her

brother-in-law, was changed to a nightingale.

13 214. hateful eyes. Eyes full of hate.

14 245. horoscope. A diagram of the heavens by which astrologers

calculated nativities. Dryden resembled Chaucer in his belief in

astrology.

14 246. Saturn in the dungeon of the sky. Arcite declares that the

horoscope of their birth predicted chains, for it showed the planet

Saturn, an evil star at best, in the dungeon of the sky.

14 252. Unhappy planets. Planets that were thought to cause

unhappiness.

14 258. Actaeon. He unintentionally came upon Diana and her

nymphs while they were bathing in the stream, was transformed into

a stag by the goddess, and was coursed to death by his own hounds.

14 261. Cyprian Queen. Venus; Cyprus was a chief seat of her

worship.

15 264. habit. Dress. We retain the word with same meaning in

riding-habit.

16 300. Appeach. To impeach. Old form.

17 334, 335, 336, 339. Alexandrines, possibly used by Dryden in such

close succession to show Arcite's violent emotions.

17 342 Aesop's hounds. The hounds of the fable by Aesop. Their

story is told in succeeding verses.

17 346, 347. These verses indicate a condition with which both Chaucer

and Dryden were very familiar.

17 358. Pirithous. A legendary hero, between Theseus and whom

existed strong friendship. A Centaur's discourtesy to the bride at the

wedding of Pirithous was avenged by Theseus in the battle with the

Centaurs.

17 364. His fellow to redeem him went to hell. Chaucer and Dryden

have here confused the story of Theseus and Pirithous with account

of Castor and Pollux. Theseus did not go to the lower world to rescue

Pirithous; but went with him to abduct Proserpina, and they were both

seized and held by Pluto, till Hercules rescued Theseus.

18 382. Finds his dear purchase. Finds his purchase to be dear,

i.e., expensive.

19 414. Fire, water, air, and earth. These were regarded by the

ancients as the primary elements of created matter.

20 433. a certain home. The house is a definite existence.

20 434. uncertain place. It is uncertain in the sense that the drunkard

has difficulty in finding it.

21 493. forelays. Awaits before, a survival of an old English compound.

21 495. thrids. Threads, as in the phrase, "threads the mazes of

the dance."

21 498. Saturn, seated in a luckless place. A second reference to

the planet of his nativity and its unlucky position in heaven at the hour

of his birth.

21 500. Mars and Venus in a quartil move. Mars and Venus are

here the planets. When their longitudes differ by 90° they move in a

quartile. It was regarded in astrology as an omen of ill.

23 545. slumbering as he lay. As he lay slumbering. A favorite

inversion with Chaucer.

23 547. Hermes. Lat. Mercury, son of Jupiter. One of his chief

duties, to act as a messenger of Jupiter to carry sleep and dreams to

mortals.

23 550. sleep-compelling rod. Hermes carried a staff, the caduceus,

given him by Apollo, about which two serpents were twined. Its touch

induced sleep.

23 552. Argus. He had a hundred eyes and was sent by Juno to

guard the cow into which lo had been transformed. He was killed by

Mercury at the command of Jupiter, and Juno transferred his eyes to

the tail of her peacock.

24 573. A labouring hind in show. In appearance a laboring

peasant.

24 590. Philostratus. In Chaucer written Philostrate, and so in

Shakspere's _Midsummer Night's Dream_, the characters of which

plainly followed Chaucer.

BOOK II.

26 10. And May within the Twins received the sun. In May the

sun is in the sign of the zodiac known as Gemini, or the Twins. Dryden

here copies a favorite phrasing of Chaucer, though not used by him

in this particular instance.

26 16. Notice the enjambment, i.e., the overflow of this verse into

the next. It very rarely occurs in Dryden's later poems.

27 34. Style. Pen, from _stylus_.

27 55. Graces. Three sisters, Aglaia (the brilliant), Euphrosyne

(cheerfulness), and Thalia (bloom of life). They were the daughters

of Jupiter and Aurora.

27 58. The sultry tropic fears. At the end of May the sun,

approaching the summer solstice, gives the longest days; hence its

slowness.

28 78. roundelay. It is technically a lyric in which a phrase or idea

is continually repeated.

28 84. Friday. Named from Frigga, a Teutonic goddess, identified

with Venus. This day of the week among the Latin races is still named

from Venus. Italian, _Venerdì_; French,_Vendredi_.

28 93. Cadmus. He was the son of Agenor, king of Phoenicia. His sister

Europa had been carried off by Jupiter and he suffered from the

consequent jealousy of Juno. While searching for his sister he founded

Thebes, with the aid of Minerva, and was its first king. The legend of

Cadmus indicates the introduction of written language from the East, the

Theban city was. Compare "_Ilium fuit_" of Virgil, Aeneid, Bk. II., 325.

30 153. Our arms shall plead the titles of our love. We will make

good our right to love by strife in arms.

31 165. pawn. Pledge,i.e., each has pledged his faith.

31 182. hopes. Hopes for, syncope.

32 196. foin. To thrust with a weapon, a term used in fencing.

32 228. lively. Bright, like the living green of vegetation.

32 329. the tuneful cry. Compare _Midsummer Night's Dream,_

Act IV., Sc. I.

33 232. goddess of the silver bow. Diana, goddess of the chase,--her

symbol, the crescent moon; hence the silver bow.

33 237. forth-right. Straight forward; an archaism.

33 245. strook. Archaic for struck.

33 258. listed field. A field properly arranged for a tournament.

35 313. quire. Group. This is the proper spelling, not choir; see

Bk. I., v. 41.

35 314. contended maid. The maid contended for.

36 344, 347. In these verses Dryden follows Chaucer, but states the

thought more forcibly. He was undoubtedly glad of the chance to slap

the powers that were.

38 400. share a single bed. Two lovers cannot marry the same

woman.

38 414. From out the bars. Beyond the barriers,i.e., out of the lists.

38 415. recreant. Acknowledging defeat.

39 445. degrees. With the seats raised in tiers.

39 461. myrtle wand. The myrtle was sacred to Venus.

39 465. Queen of Wight. Diana, because she was goddess of the

moon.

39 467. oratories. Places for prayer.

40483. Sigils. Literally, a seal or sign; here an occult sign or mark

in astrology, another evidence of Dryden's leaning toward that

so-called science, for Chaucer makes no such statement here.

40 498. Idalian mount. Idalium, a town in Cyprus sacred to Venus;

here, as often, confused with Mount Ida.

40 498. Citheron. Cythera, not Citheron, is the island near which

Venus rose from the sea, and a famous seat of her worship. Cithaeron

is a mountain in Boeotia sacred to Zeus.

41 505. Medea's charms. Medea, daughter of Aetes, king of Colchis,

was a famous sorceress of antiquity. She aided Jason to get the

golden fleece, and fled with him. Deserted by him, she subsequently

became involved with Theseus and Hercules, eventually going to Asia.

From her sprung the Medes.

41 505. Circean feasts. A mythical sorceress, who feasted mariners

landed on her shores, and by charmed drinks changed them to swine.

Ulysses spent a year with her, and frustrated her arts.

41 515. bare below the breast. Bare from the shoulders to a point

below the breasts.

41534. scurf. Scaly matter on the surface,--scum.

42 536. knares. Knots on, a tree; an archaism.

42 544. bent. A declivity or slope.

42 558. tun. A huge cask for holding wine, ale, etc.

43 590. overlaid. Lain upon by the nurse to smother it.

44 604. Mars his ides. The Ides of March, the date of Caesar's

assassination. The month was named from the god.

44 607. Antony, Infatuated with Cleopatra, he lost his empire.

Dryden had previously told the story in his best play,_All for Love_.

44 614. geomantic. Pertaining to geomancy, the art of divining

future events by means of signs connected with the earth. The figure

here represents two constellations, Rubeus, which signifies Mars

direct, Puella, Mars retrograde.

44 616. direct... retrograde. The motion of a planet is direct

when it seems to move from west to east in the zodiac, and retrograde

when its apparent motion is reversed.

44 623. Calisto. Properly Callisto, one of Diana's nymphs. Jupiter

loved her and changed her to a bear to escape the notice of Juno;

but the latter discovered the ruse, and caused Diana to kill the bear.

Thereupon Jupiter transferred her to heaven as the constellation of

Arctos, in which is the pole-star.

44 631. Peneian Daphne. Daughter of the river-god Peneus.

Loved by Apollo and pursued by him, she prayed for assistance,

and was changed into a laurel tree. Thenceforth the laurel became

Apollo's favorite tree.

44 634. Calydonian beast. A huge boar sent by Diana to devastate the

territory of Aeneus, king of Calydon in Atolia, because he had not paid

her due honor. Theseus, Jason, Peleus, Telamon, Nestor, all the famous

heroes gathered to destroy the beast, and with them the swift-footed

maiden Atalanta. Her arrow gave the first wound. The story is

exquisitely told by Swinburne in Atalanta in Calydon.

44 635. Aenides. Meleager, son of Aeneus, who actually killed the

boar. He loved Atalanta and gave to her the head and hide of the

animal as a trophy. Jealously attacked by his uncles, he slew them.

At his birth, the fates had prophesied his death when a certain brand

upon the hearth should have burned. Thereupon his mother plucked

it from the fire, quenched it, and put it away. Angered by the death

of her brothers, she throws this brand upon the fire. It is consumed,

and Meleager dies.

45 639. The Volscian queen. Camilla, an Amazon, allied with

Turnus in his strife with Aeneas in Italy. She was treacherously

killed by Aruns, while pursuing a fleeing enemy. As Aruns was

stealthily withdrawing, he was slain by an arrow, fired by one of

Diana's nymphs.

45 654. Lucina. The name given to Diana as one of the goddesses

who presides at childbirth.

45 661, 662. Inserted by Dryden, a satirical reference to the wretched

Whig poets then in favor, and to his own removal from royal patronage.

BOOK III.

47 28. juppon. A light coat worn over armor, reaching to mid-thigh

and finished in points at the bottom.

47 31. Pruce. Prussia.

47 35. jambeux. Armor for the legs, from the French _jambé_, leg.

47 39. Lycurgus. King of Thrace; he persecuted Bacchus, and

was made mad by that god. In his madness he slew his son under the

impression that he was cutting down vines. The country now produced

no fruit, and the inhabitants carried the impious king to Mount

Pangaeus, where he was torn to pieces by horses.

48 63. Emetrius. A creation of Chaucer's whom Dryden follows.

Notice the poet's unusual representation of an Indian prince with fair

complexion and yellow hair.

48 88. Upon his fist he bore. It was customary in the time of

Chaucer to hunt with tame falcons, which were carried perched upon

the wrist when not after quarry.

49 99. So Bacchus through the conquered Indies rode. Bacchus,

a son of Jupiter, was the god of wine. His birth and up-bringing were

attended with dangers bred by the jealousy of Juno. When full grown,

Juno drove him mad, and in this state he journeyed over the earth.

He spent several years in India, introducing the vine and elements of

civilization. It was on his return that he was expelled from Thrace by

Lycurgus.

49 103. prime. Early morning, the first hour after sunrise.

49 109. harbinger. One who provides or secures lodgings for another,

from the Old French herbegtsr, whence harbor.

49 120. Phosphor. Light bringer, from phos and phero.

49 124. preventing. With the literal significance of the word, coming

before, i.e., he rose before day.

50 134. Thy month. May referred to as the month of Venus, since

it is, in the poets, particularly a season for love-making.

50 145. gladder. Thou who makest glad.

50 146. Increase. Offspring of Jove.

50 147. Adonis. A beautiful youth, loved by Venus, with whom he

spent eight months of the year. When he was killed by a boar, so

great was the sorrow of the goddess, that the deities of the nether

world allowed her to possess him for half of each year.

51 164. Notice the force of Palamon's request. He cares not so

much for glory of conquest as for the delights of possession. His

prayer is answered, for, though conquered, he eventually weds Emilia.

51 168. your fifth orb. The heavens werel supposed to consist of

concentric hollow spheres called orbs, and the sun, moon, stars, and

planets moved in their respective orbs, the planet Venus in the fifth.

51 169. clue. Thread.

51 172. And let the Sisters cut below your line. The sisters are the

three Fates. Clotho spun the thread of life, Lachesis held it, and

Atropos cut it. Palamon is willing that the Fates end his life, if they

will first allow him to enjoy love.

51 191. Cynthia. Another name for Diana, from Mount Cynthus,

her birthplace.

51 193. Vests. Vestments, robes.

52 200. Uncouth. Literally, unknown, hence strange.

52 205. Well-meaners think no harm. Compare the famous epigram

adopted by the Order of the Garter: "_honi soit qui mal y pense_"

(shamed be he who thinks evil of it). This order was founded during

Chaucer's life, and this sentiment may have been in his mind.

52 208. mastless oak. Oak leaves without acorns, i.e., without the

fruit, hence an appropriate garland for a maid.

52 212. Statius. A Latin author who died 96 A.D. Among his

works was an heroic poem in twelve books, embodying the legends

touching the expedition of the Seven against Thebes.

52 231. Niobe. She was the mother of seven sons and seven

daughters, and so thought herself superior to Latona, who had given

birth to only two, Apollo and Diana. To avenge their mother, they

slew all of Niobe's children with their darts. Hence the "devoted"

children, i.e., devoted to death.

53 231. gust. The sense or pleasure of tasting, hence relish; more

common form, gusto.

53 232. thy triple shape. Diana is often confused with Hecate, a

most mysterious divinity. Hecate is represented with three heads and

three bodies, and possessed the attributes of Luna in heaven, of Diana

on earth, and of Proserpina in the lower world.

53 238. frowning stars. If the stars at her birth were such and so

placed that they boded ill, they might be said to frown.

53 250-260. The omen foretells the event. One altar seems extinguished

and then relights when the other goes out entirely. So Palamon seems to

fail, but eventually wins Emilia after the death of Arcite.

54 290. planetary hour. This was the fourth hour of the day.

54 291. heptarchy. A rule by seven. It refers here to the seven

great gods, Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto, Mars, Vulcan, Apollo, Mercury.

55 297. Hyperborean. Beyond the North. Applied originally to a

blessed people who dwelt beyond the north wind.

55 320. Vulcan had thee in his net enthralled. Vulcan, the husband

of Venus, once discovered improper relations between her and

Mars, and he entrapped the guilty pair in the meshes of an invisible

net and exposed them to the laughter of the gods. This passage would

appeal to the taste of Dryden's Restoration readers, and is developed

with a light grace, characteristic of the period.

55 325-332. In these verses the poet brings out the character of

Arcite, a more mannish man than Palamon.

56 355, 356. Arcite prays for victory; nothing else will satisfy. He

obtains his prayer, but loses Emily.

57 389. trined. An astrological term, meaning that the planets

Saturn and Venus were distant from each other 120°, or one-third of

the zodiac, a benign aspect.

57 390. with stern Mars in Capricorn was joined. Both Mars and

Saturn were in the sign of the zodiac, Capricorn.

58 401. watery sign. The so-called watery signs of the zodiac

were Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces. When Saturn is in one of these

signs, look out for shipwreck.

58 402. earthy. The so-called earthy signs were Taurus, Virgo,

and Capricornus. When Saturn is in one of these signs, look out for

the dungeon.

58 408, 409. Though these verses are taken from Chaucer, they

fitted Dryden's times and sentiment; for he had seen his own king,

James II., ousted from his throne and supplanted by William and

Mary. He was not in sympathy with the Revolution.

58 410. housing in the lion's hateful sign. Saturn in the sign Leo

was regarded as baleful.

58 411. This verse is Dryden's own, and contains satirical reference

to Whig disloyalty at the time of the Revolution of '88.

58 418. pestilence. Both Chaucer and Dryden had experienced

great plagues in London, the Black Death in the fourteenth century

and the Great Plague of 1665.

58 432. gladded. Made glad.

59 452. morions with their plumy pride. A helmet with a crest of

feathers.

59 453. retinue. Here accented on the penult.

59 459. palfrey. A small horse in contrast with the mighty war horse.

59 463. clowns. The peasants, the common people.

60 480. double-biting axe. Two-edged battle-ax.

60 489. Armed cap-a-pe. From head to foot. From the old

French, _de cap a pie_.

60 497. king-at-arms. The chief of the heralds, an important

office in the Middle Ages.

61 512. The turney is allowed but one career. The two bands of

knights shall rush together on horseback but once.

61 516. at mischief taken. Caught at a disadvantage.

63 569. equipage. So well equipped.

63 590. justling. An archaism for jostling.

64 603. Hauberks. A part of mail armor, originally intended to

protect neck and shoulders; later it reached to the knees.

65 669. the rightful Titan failed. The Titans were the six sons

and six daughters of Ccelus and Terra. One of them, Saturn, indignant

at the tyranny of his father, dethroned him with the others' aid.

The Titans then ruled in heaven with Saturn at their head. A prophecy

to the effect that one of his children would dethrone him caused him

to swallow each one as it was born; but Jupiter was concealed at his

birth and grew to manhood. He compelled Saturn to disgorge his

brothers and sisters, and in company with them waged a ten years' war

against the Titans. They were overcome and hurled to the depths

below Tartarus, while Jupiter usurped the throne of heaven.

66 697, 698. A touch of light satire in Chaucer which Dryden repeats

with gusto, for it tallied well with the sentiments of his day.

67 709. lanced a vein. The sovereign remedy in the olden time

was blood-letting.

67 726. charms. They played an important part in medical practice,

not only in Chaucer's time, but later even than Dryden.

68 750. leech's cares. Leech was a common name for doctor.

68 755. breathing veins nor cupping. Two different methods of

bleeding. To breathe a vein was to open the vein directly. To cup

was to apply the cupping glass, which, being a partial vacuum, caused

the flesh to puff up in it, and then the lancet was used.

68 772. against right. Arcite is said to have gained Emily against

right, because Palamon, having seen and loved her first, had priority of

claim.

72 877 Aegeus. According to the generally accepted legend,

Aegeus, Theseus' father, had died when Theseus returned from Crete,

years before.

72 889, 890. These verses are an insertion by Dryden, and are another

reference to the change of dynasty at the Revolution of 1688,

when James II. was dethroned, and William, Prince of Orange,

succeeded him.

72 898. conscious laund. Knowing lawn or glade, i.e., the spot that had

been familiar with their first encounter. Laund is, of course, an archaism.

72 905. Sere-wood. Modern form, searwood, wood dry enough to

burn well.

72 905. doddered oaks. Oaks covered with dodder, that is, with

parasitic plants, and therefore dead or dying.

72 908. Vulcanian food. Food for fire, Vulcan being the god of

fire.

73 940. master-street. Main street of the town.

74 953. Parthian bow. The Parthians were famous bowmen.

74 955. fathom. A fathom is a measure of six feet.

74 956. strowed. Archaism for strewn.

75 998. wakes. A wake is, literally, an all-night watch by the body

of the dead, sometimes attended by unseemly revelry. Here it refers

to the celebration of funeral rites for Arcite.

75 1007. Theseus held his parliament. Theseus is reputed to

have introduced constitutional government in Attica.

76 1031. The principle of the indestructibility of matter, a result

of scientific investigation, which in Dryden's time was attracting

much attention.

76 1039. suborn. To procure by indirect means.

77 1076. vegetive. Growing, having the power of growth.

78 nil. annoy. Annoyance.

79 1114. while we live, to live. To live happily while life lasts.

79 1144. Eros and Anteros. Both different names for the god of

love, Eros signifying direct, sensual love, and Anteros, return love.

79 1146. long-attending Hymen. Hymen, the god of marriage,

had waited long to consummate this match.

80 1154, 1155. This couplet is original with Dryden, and forms a