The Poetical Works of John Dryden Volume Ii Part 35

But I, the most forlorn of human kind, 410 Nor help can hope, nor remedy can find; But doom'd to drag my loathsome life in care, For my reward, must end it in despair.

Fire, water, air, and earth, and force of fates, That governs all, and Heaven that all creates, Nor art, nor nature's hand can ease my grief; Nothing but death, the wretch's last relief: Then farewell youth, and all the joys that dwell, With youth and life, and life itself farewell!

But why, alas! do mortal men in vain 420 Of fortune, fate, or Providence complain?

G.o.d gives us what he knows our wants require, And better things than those which we desire: Some pray for riches; riches they obtain; But, watch'd by robbers, for their wealth are slain: Some pray from prison to be freed; and come, When guilty of their vows, to fall at home; Murder'd by those they trusted with their life, A favour'd servant, or a bosom wife.

Such dear-bought blessings happen every day, 430 Because we know not for what things to pray.

Like drunken sots about the street we roam; Well knows the sot he has a certain home; Yet knows not how to find the uncertain place, And blunders on, and staggers every pace.

Thus all seek happiness; but few can find.

For far the greater part of men are blind.

This is my case, who thought our utmost good Was in one word of freedom understood: The fatal blessing came: from prison free, 440 I starve abroad, and lose the sight of Emily.

Thus Arcite; but if Arcite thus deplore His sufferings, Palamon yet suffers more.

For when he knew his rival freed and gone, He swells with wrath; he makes outrageous moan: He frets, he fumes, he stares, he stamps the ground; The hollow tower with clamours rings around: With briny tears he bathed his fetter'd feet, And dropp'd all o'er with agony of sweat.

Alas! he cried, I wretch in prison pine, 450 Too happy rival, while the fruit is thine: Thou livest at large, thou draw'st thy native air, Pleased with thy freedom, proud of my despair: Thou may'st, since thou hast youth and courage join'd, A sweet behaviour and a solid mind, a.s.semble ours, and all the Theban race, To vindicate on Athens thy disgrace; And after, by some treaty made, possess Fair Emily, the pledge of lasting peace.

So thine shall be the beauteous prize, while I 460 Must languish in despair, in prison die.

Thus all the advantage of the strife is thine, Thy portion double joys, and double sorrows mine.

The rage of jealousy then fired his soul, And his face kindled like a burning coal: Now cold despair, succeeding in her stead, To livid paleness turns the glowing red.

His blood, scarce liquid, creeps within his veins, Like water which the freezing wind constrains.

Then thus he said: Eternal Deities, 470 Who rule the world with absolute decrees, And write whatever time shall bring to pa.s.s, With pens of adamant on plates of bra.s.s; What! is the race of human kind your care, Beyond what all his fellow-creatures are?

He with the rest is liable to pain, And like the sheep, his brother-beast, is slain; Cold, hunger, prisons, ills without a cure, All these he must, and guiltless, oft endure.

Or does your justice, power, or prescience fail, 480 When the good suffer, and the bad prevail?

What worse to wretched virtue could befall, If fate or giddy fortune govern'd all?

Nay, worse than other beasts is our estate; Them, to pursue their pleasures, you create; We, bound by harder laws, must curb our will, And your commands, not our desires, fulfil; Then when the creature is unjustly slain, Yet after death, at least, he feels no pain; But man, in life surcharged with woe before, 490 Not freed when dead, is doom'd to suffer more.

A serpent shoots his sting at unaware; An ambush'd thief forelays a traveller: The man lies murder'd, while the thief and snake, One gains the thickets, and one threads the brake.

This let divines decide; but well I know, Just, or unjust, I have my share of woe, Through Saturn seated in a luckless place, And Juno's wrath, that persecutes my race; Or Mars and Venus, in a quartile, move 500 My pangs of jealousy for Arcite's love.

Let Palamon oppress'd in bondage mourn, While to his exiled rival we return.

By this, the sun, declining from his height, The day had shorten'd to prolong the night; The lengthen'd night gave length of misery Both to the captive lover and the free.

For Palamon in endless prison mourns, And Arcite forfeits life if he returns: The banish'd never hopes his love to see, 510 Nor hopes the captive lord his liberty.

'Tis hard to say who suffers greater pains: One sees his love, but cannot break his chains: One free, and all his motions uncontroll'd, Beholds whate'er he would, but what he would behold.

Judge as you please, for I will haste to tell What fortune to the banish'd knight befell.

When Arcite was to Thebes return'd again, The loss of her he loved renew'd his pain; What could be worse, than never more to see 520 His life, his soul, his charming Emily?

He raved with all the madness of despair, He roar'd, he beat his breast, he tore his hair.

Dry sorrow in his stupid eyes appears, For, wanting nourishment, he wanted tears: His eye-b.a.l.l.s in their hollow sockets sink, Bereft of sleep, he loathes his meat and drink.

He withers at his heart, and looks as wan As the pale spectre of a murder'd man: That pale turns yellow, and his face receives 530 The faded hue of sapless boxen leaves: In solitary groves he makes his moan, Walks early out, and ever is alone: Nor, mix'd in mirth, in youthful pleasures shares, But sighs when songs and instruments he hears.

His spirits are so low, his voice is drown'd, He hears as from afar, or in a swound, Like the deaf murmurs of a distant sound: Uncomb'd his locks and squalid his attire, Unlike the trim of love and gay desire; 540 But full of museful mopings, which presage The loss of reason, and conclude in rage.

This when he had endured a year and more, Now wholly changed from what he was before, 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, disclosed the G.o.d, And in his hand he bore the sleep-compelling rod: 550 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. 560 By chance he spied a mirror while he spoke, And gazing there, beheld his alter'd look; Wondering, he saw his features and his hue So much were changed, 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 disguise.

Thanks to the change which grief and sickness give, In low estate I may securely live, 570 And see unknown my mistress day by day.

He said; and clothed himself in coa.r.s.e array: A labouring hind in show; then forth he went, And to the Athenian towers his journey bent: One squire attended in the same disguise, Made conscious of his master's enterprise.

Arrived 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. 580

So fair befell him, that for little gain He served 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, Refused no toil that could to slaves belong; But from deep wells with engines water drew, And used his n.o.ble hands the wood to hew.

He pa.s.s'd a year at least attending thus On Emily, and call'd Philostratus. 590 But never was there man of his degree So much esteem'd, so well beloved 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, exercised within a higher sphere, His virtues more conspicuous might appear.

Thus by the general voice was Arcite praised, And by great Theseus to high favour raised; 600 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 purchased friends and fame, But cautiously conceal'd from whence it came.

Thus for three years he lived 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. 610

BOOK II.

While Arcite lives in bliss, the story turns Where hopeless Palamon in prison mourns.

For six long years immured, the captive 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 pa.s.sion 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 received the sun, 10 Were it by chance, or forceful destiny, Which forms in causes first whate'er shall be, a.s.sisted by a friend, one moonless night, This Palamon from prison took his flight: A pleasant beverage he prepared 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 snored secure till morn, his senses bound In slumber, and in long oblivion drown'd. 20 Short was the night, and careful Palamon Sought the next covert e'er 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, 30 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 the horizon laugh'd to see the joyous sight: 40 He with his tepid rays the rose renews, And licks the drooping leaves, and dries the dews; When Arcite left his bed, resolved 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 trode: At ease he seem'd, and, prancing o'er the plains, Turn'd only to the grove his horse's reins, The grove I named before; and, lighted there, A woodbine garland sought to crown his hair; 50 Then turn'd his face against the rising day, And raised his voice to welcome in the May.

For thee, sweet month! the groves green liveries wear, 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, 60 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, 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 he did not know. 70 But as it has been said of ancient years, That fields are full of eyes, and woods have ears; For this the wise are ever on their guard, For, unforeseen, they say, is unprepared.

Uncautious Arcite thought himself alone, And less than all suspected Palamon, Who, listening, heard him, while he search'd the grove, And loudly sung his roundelay of love: But on the sudden stopp'd, and silent stood, As lovers often muse, and change their mood; 80 Now high as heaven, and then as low as h.e.l.l; 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.

Cursed be the day when first I did appear; Let it be blotted from the calendar, 90 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 involved 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 caused my country's overthrow.

This is not all; for Juno, to my shame, 100 Has forced me to forsake my former name; Arcite I was, Philostratus 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: 110 Fierce love has pierced 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 G.o.ddess no time leaves record, Who burn'd the temple where she was adored: And let it burn, I never will complain, Pleased with my sufferings, if you knew my pain.

At this a sickly qualm his heart a.s.sail'd, His ears ring inward, and his senses fail'd. 120 No word miss'd Palamon of all he spoke, But soon to deadly pale he changed 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 forsworn, for Emily; And darest attempt her love, for whom I die. 130 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 a.s.sured, that either thou shalt die, Or else renounce thy claim in Emily: For though unarm'd I am, and (freed by chance) Am here without my sword, or pointed lance, Hope not, base man, unquestioned hence to go, For I am Palamon, thy mortal foe. 140

Arcite, who heard his tale, and knew the man, His sword unsheath'd, and fiercely thus began: Now by the G.o.ds 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; 150 But since thou art my kinsman, and a knight, Here, have my faith, to-morrow in this grove Our arms shall plead the t.i.tles of our love: And Heaven so help my right, as I alone Will come, and keep the cause and quarrel both unknown; With arms of proof both for myself and thee; Choose thou the best, and leave the worst to me.

And, that at better ease thou may'st abide, Bedding and clothes I will this night provide, And needful sustenance, that thou may'st be 160 A conquest better won, and worthy me.

His promise Palamon accepts; but pray'd To keep it better than the first he made.

Thus fair they parted till the morrow's dawn, For each had laid his plighted faith to p.a.w.n.