The Poetical Works of John Dryden Volume Ii Part 39

But Arcite's men, who now prevail'd in fight, Twice ten at once surround the single knight: O'erpower'd, at length, they force him to the ground, 650 Unyielded as he was, and to the pillar bound; And King Lycurgus, while he fought in vain His friend to free, was tumbled on the plain.

Who now laments but Palamon, compell'd No more to try the fortune of the field!

And, worse than death, to view with hateful eyes His rival's conquest, and renounce the prize!

The royal judge, on his tribunal placed, Who had beheld the fight from first to last, Bade cease the war; p.r.o.nouncing from on high, 660 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 own'd even by the G.o.ds above, And conquering Mars insults the Queen of Love.

So laugh'd he, when the rightful t.i.tan fail'd, And Jove's usurping arms in heaven prevail'd. 670 Laugh'd all the powers who favour tyranny; And all the standing army of the sky.

But Venus with dejected eyes appears, And, weeping on the lists, distill'd her tears; Her will refused, which grieves a woman most, And, in her champion foil'd, the cause of Love is lost.

Till Saturn said, Fair daughter, now be still, The bl.u.s.tering fool has satisfied his will; His boon is given; his knight has gain'd the day, But lost the prize; the arrears are yet to pay; 680 Thy hour is come, and mine the care shall be To please thy knight, and set thy promise free.

Now while the heralds run the lists around, And Arcite! Arcite! heaven and earth resound; A miracle (nor less it could be call'd) Their joy with unexpected sorrow pall'd.

The victor knight had laid his helm aside, Part for his ease, the greater part for pride; Bare-headed, popularly low he bow'd, And paid the salutations of the crowd. 690 Then spurring at full speed, ran endlong on Where Theseus sate on his imperial throne; Furious he drove, and upward cast his eye, Where, next the queen, was placed his Emily; Then pa.s.sing, 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: 700 The startling steed was seized with sudden fright, And, bounding, o'er the pommel cast the knight: Forward he flew, and pitching on his head, He quiver'd with his feet, and lay for dead.

Black was his countenance in a little s.p.a.ce, For all the blood was gather'd in his face.

Help was at hand: they rear'd him from the ground, And from his c.u.mbrous arms his limbs unbound; Then lanced a vein, and watch'd returning breath; It came, but clogg'd with symptoms of his death. 710 The saddle-bow the n.o.ble parts had press'd, All bruised and mortified his manly breast.

Him still entranced, and in a litter laid, They bore from field, and to his bed convey'd.

At length he waked, and with a feeble cry, The word he first p.r.o.nounced was "Emily."

Mean time the king, though inwardly he mourn'd, In pomp triumphant to the town return'd, Attended by the chiefs, who fought the field; (Now friendly mix'd, and in one troop compell'd.) 720 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 despoil'd them of their arms, And some with salves they cure, and some with charms; Foment the bruises, and the pains a.s.suage, And heal their inward hurts with sovereign draughts of sage.

The king in person visits all around, Comforts the sick, congratulates the sound; 730 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, overpower'd with arms, deserts his cause; 740 Unshamed, though foil'd, 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 n.o.ble 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 750 Swoln is his breast; his inward pains increase, All means are used, and all without success.

The clotted blood lies heavy on his heart, Corrupts, and there remains, in spite of art: Nor breathing veins, nor cupping will prevail; All outward remedies and inward fail: The mould of nature's fabric is destroy'd, Her vessels discomposed, her virtue void; The bellows of his lungs begin to swell: All out of frame is every secret cell, 760 Nor can the good receive, nor bad expel.

Those breathing organs thus within oppress'd, With venom soon distend the sinews of his breast.

Nought profits him to save abandon'd life, Nor vomit's upward aid, nor downward laxative.

The midmost region batter'd and destroy'd, When nature cannot work, the effect of art is void.

For physic can but mend our crazy state, Patch an old building, not a new create.

Arcite is doom'd to die in all his pride, 770 Must leave his youth, and yield his beauteous bride, Gain'd hardly, against right, and unenjoy'd.

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; 780 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, 790 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, oh 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 bless'd before my death.

Farewell; but take me dying in your arms, 800 '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, 810 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; 820 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 n.o.ble 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 an holy fire, As will not, cannot, but with life expire: Our vow'd affections both have often tried, 830 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 touch'd he froze: Yet could he not his closing eyes withdraw, 840 Though less and less of Emily he saw; So, speechless, for a little s.p.a.ce he lay; Then grasp'd the hand he held, and sigh'd 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, 850 To save ourselves, and not to d.a.m.n 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 shriek'd but once, and then, oppress'd With sorrow, sunk upon her lover's breast: Till Theseus in his arms convey'd with care, Far from so sad a sight, the swooning fair.

'Twere loss of time her sorrow to relate; 860 Ill bears the s.e.x 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 laugh'd so late, becomes the scene of woe: Matrons and maids, both s.e.xes, every state, With tears lament the knight's untimely fate.

Nor greater grief in falling Troy was seen For Hector's death; but Hector was not then, 870 Old men with dust deform'd their h.o.a.ry hair, The women beat their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, 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 cheer'd the grief Of others, wanted now the same relief; Old Egeus 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; 880 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. 890 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 design'd.

And after long debate, at last he found (As love itself had mark'd 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 900 With soft complaints, and felt his hottest fires; There other flames might waste his earthly part, And burn his limbs, where love had burn'd his heart.

This once resolved, the peasants were enjoin'd Sere-wood, and firs, and dodder'd oaks to find.

With sounding axes to the grove they go, Fell, split, and lay the fuel on a row, Vulcanian food: a bier is next prepared, On which the lifeless body should be rear'd, Cover'd with cloth of gold, on which was laid 910 The corpse of Arcite, in like robes array'd.

White gloves were on his hands, and on his head A wreath of laurel, mix'd with myrtle spread.

A sword keen-edged within his right he held, The warlike emblem of the conquer'd 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 howlings fill the crowded place, 920 And unaffected sorrow sate on every face.

Sad Palamon above the rest appears, In sable garments, dew'd with gushing tears: His auburn locks on either shoulder flow'd, Which to the funeral of his friend he vow'd: But Emily, as chief, was next his side, A virgin-widow, and a mourning bride.

And that the princely obsequies might be Perform'd according to his high degree, The steed, that bore him living to the fight, 930 Was trapp'd with polish'd steel, all shining bright, And cover'd with the achievements of the knight.

The riders rode abreast, and one his shield, His lance of cornel-wood another held; The third his bow, and, glorious to behold, The costly quiver, all of burnish'd gold.

The n.o.blest of the Grecians next appear, And, weeping, on their shoulders bore the bier; With sober pace they march'd, and often stay'd, And through the master-street the corpse convey'd. 940 The houses to their tops with black were spread, And even the pavements were with mourning hid.

The right side of the pall old Egeus kept, And on the left the royal Theseus wept; Each bore a golden bowl, of work divine, With honey fill'd, and milk, and mix'd with ruddy wine.

Then Palamon, the kinsman of the slain, And after him appear'd the ill.u.s.trious train.

To grace the pomp, came Emily the bright, With cover'd fire, the funeral pile to light. 950 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 strew'd.

The fabric seem'd a wood of rising green, With sulphur and bitumen cast between, To feed the flames: the trees were unctuous fir, And mountain-ash, the mother of the spear; 960 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 G.o.ds for conquering chiefs ordain.

How they were rank'd, shall rest untold by me, With nameless Nymphs that lived in every tree; Nor how the Dryads, or the woodland train, Disherited, ran howling o'er the plain: Nor how the birds to foreign seats repair'd, Or beasts, that bolted out, and saw the forest bared: 970 Nor how the ground, now clear'd, with ghastly fright Beheld the sudden sun, a stranger to the light.

The straw, as first I said, was laid below; Of chips and sere-wood was the second row; The third of greens, and timber newly fell'd; The fourth high stage the fragrant odours held, And pearls, and precious stones, and rich array; In midst of which, embalm'd, the body lay.

The service sung, the maid with mourning eyes The stubble fired; the smouldering flames arise: 980 This office done, she sunk upon the ground; But what she spoke, recover'd from her swound, I want the wit in moving words to dress; But by themselves the tender s.e.x 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 their warrior's ghost a warrior's due.

Full bowls of wine, of honey, milk, and blood Were pour'd upon the pile of burning wood, 990 And hissing flames receive, and hungry lick the food.

Then thrice the mounted squadrons ride around The fire, and Arcite's name they thrice resound: Hail, and farewell! they shouted thrice amain, Thrice facing to the left, and thrice they turn'd again: Still as they turn'd, they beat their clattering shields; The women mix their cries; and clamour fills the fields.

The warlike wakes continued all the night, And funeral games were play'd at new returning light; Who naked wrestled best, besmear'd with oil, 1000 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.