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1. The Knight’s Tale
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‘Iamque domos patrias Scithice post aspera gentis prelia laurigero’ etc.
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‘And now after fierce battles with the Scythian people (Theseus) nears home in his laurel-crowned (chariot) etc.’
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(Statius: Thebaid XII, 519-520)
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Here begins the Knight’s Tale.
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1.1. (Part One)
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Once on a time, as old stories tell us,
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There was a Duke whose name was Theseus.
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Of Athens he was lord and governor,
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And in his time so great a conqueror
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Mightier was there none under the sun.
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Full many a rich land had he won,
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What with his wisdom and his chivalry.
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He conquered all the Amazon country,
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That long ago was known as Scythia,
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And wedded its queen Hippolyta,
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And brought her home to his own country
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With much glory and great festivity,
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And also her young sister Emily.
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And so with victory and melody
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I’ll let this noble Duke to Athens ride
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And all his host in arms him beside.
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And were it not indeed too long to hear,
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I would have told you fully of the manner
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In which the Amazon kingdom was seized
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By Theseus and by his chivalry,
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And of the great battle on occasion
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Twixt the Athenian and the Amazon,
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And how he besieged Hippolyta,
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The brave and lovely queen of Scythia,
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And of the feast they had at their wedding
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And of the tempest at their home-coming;
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But all of that I must omit for now.
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I have, God knows, a large field to plough,
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Weak oxen pull my blade, the field is rough.
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The remnant of my tale is long enough.
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Likewise I’ll not delay us on the route;
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Let every fellow tell his tale about,
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And let us see who shall that supper win!
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– Where I left off, I will again begin.
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This Duke of whom I now make mention,
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When he was almost come into the town,
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In all his splendour and his great pride,
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Became aware, as he glanced aside,
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That there kneeled in the highway
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Two by two, a company of ladies,
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One behind the other, in clothes black.
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But such a wail, such cries they made, alack,
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That in this world there is no creature living
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That ever heard another such lamenting.
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And this crying was not heard to cease
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Till they the reins of his bridle seized.
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‘What folk are you that at my home-coming
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So disturb my feast with your crying?
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Quoth Theseus. ‘Do you so envy my
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Honour that thus you complain and cry?
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Who has maltreated you or offended?
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And tell me if what’s done may be amended,
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And why you are clothed thus all in black.’
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The eldest lady of them all spoke back,
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Swooning, so deathly-white she did appear,
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That it was pitiful to see and hear,
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And said: ‘Lord to whom Fortune doth give
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Victory, you who as a conqueror do live,
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We do not mourn your glory and honour,
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But we beseech your mercy and succour.
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Have mercy on our woe and our distress!
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Some drop of pity, in your graciousness,
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Upon us wretched women let it fall.
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For sure, my lord, there is none of us all
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That has not been a duchess or a queen.
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Now we are captives, as can well be seen,
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Thanks be to Fortune and her fickle wheel,
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That no estate lets full assurance feel.
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Indeed, lord, to attend your presence we
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In this divine temple of Clemency
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Have been waiting all this long fortnight.
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Now help us lord, since you possess the might!
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I, wretched Queen, that weep and wail thus
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Was once the wife of King Capaneus
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Who died at Thebes – accursed be the day! –
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And all of us in all our sad array
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Who are making this fond lamentation,
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We all lost our husbands in that town,
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While the siege thereabout it lay.
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And yet now old Creon, sad to say,
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That is now the lord of Thebes the city,
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Filled full with anger and iniquity,
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He out of spite, and out of tyranny,
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To do the dead bodies villainy
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Of all our lords that have been slain,
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Has all the bodies in a heap lain,
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And will not give his order and assent
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For them to be buried or be burnt,
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But lets the dogs eat them, out of spite.’
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And with that word, without more respite,
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They fell prone and cried piteously:
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Have on us wretched women some mercy,
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And let our sorrow penetrate your heart!’
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The noble Duke with pity gave a start,
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Leapt from his horse as he heard her speak.
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He thought that his own heart would break
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At seeing such piteous victims of fate,
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That had once been of such great estate.
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And raised them in his arms, and then
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Comforted them with generous intent,
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And swore his oath, as being a true knight,
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He would so vigorously apply his might
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To the tyrant Creon, vengeance on him wreak,
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That all the people of Greece would speak
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Of how Theseus their Creon served,
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As one whose death was richly deserved.
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And at once, with little more delay,
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He rode forth, his banner did display
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Towards Thebes, and all his host beside.
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No nearer Athens would he go or ride,
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Nor rest at ease scarcely half a day,
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But onward on his way that night he lay,
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And sent, at once, the Queen, Hippolyta,
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And Emily, her beautiful young sister,
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To the town of Athens there to dwell,
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And forth he rode; there is no more to tell.
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The image of red Mars, with spear and shield
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So shone on his white banners, in the field,
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That all the meadows glittered up and down,
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And with his banner, his pennon of renown,
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Of gold full rich, on which there was a beast,
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The Minotaur, whom he had slain in Crete.
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So rode the Duke, so rode this conqueror,
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And in his host of chivalry the flower,
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Till he came to Thebes, there did alight,
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Fair in a field, where he thought to fight.
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But to speak briefly now of this thing,
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With Creon, he that was of Thebes king,
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He fought, and slew him like a manly knight
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In open battle, and put the folk to flight.
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And by assault he won the city after,
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And razed the walls, every spar and rafter;
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And to the ladies he restored again
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The bones of their husbands that were slain,
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To perform their obsequies, in usual guise.
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Though it were all too long to devise
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The great clamour and the sad lamenting
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That the ladies made at the burning
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Of the bodies, and the great honour
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That Theseus the noble conqueror
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Did the ladies, when their way they went;
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For to speak briefly, such is my intent.
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When that this worthy Duke, this Theseus,
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Had slain Creon and conquered Thebes thus,
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Still in the field he took all night his rest,
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And with the country did as pleased him best.
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To ransack the heaped bodies of the dead,
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To strip them of armour, and clothes indeed,
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The pillagers worked busily, with care,
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After the battle and the victory there.
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And it so befell that in the heap they found,
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Pierced with many a grievous bloody wound,
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Two young knights, lying side by side,
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Both in like armour, richly wrought beside;
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Of whom, Arcita was the name of one,
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That of the other knight was Palamon.
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Not fully quick nor fully dead they were,
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But by their coats of arms and their gear
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The heralds knew them, amongst them all,
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And that they were of the blood royal
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Of Thebes, and of two sisters born.
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Out of the heap the pillagers have them borne
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And gently carry them to Theseus’ tent
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And he at once has them swiftly sent
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To Athens, to be confined in prison
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Perpetually; allowing them no ransom.
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And when the noble Duke had so done,
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He took his horse and home he rode anon,
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Crowned with laurel as a conqueror;
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And there he lived in joy and in honour
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All his life; what more need I say now?
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And in a tower, in anguish and in woe,
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Dwelled this Arcita and this Palamon,
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For ever; no gold could buy their freedom.
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So passed year on year, and day on day,
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Until one morning in the month of May
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Young Emily, she fairer to be seen
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Than is the lily on its stalk of green,
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And fresher than the May with flowers new –
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For with the rose’s colour strove her hue;
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I know not which was finer of the two –
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Ere it was day, as she was wont to do,
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She has risen, and dressed at first light,
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For May will have no slothfulness a-night,
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The season pricks at every gentle heart,
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And makes it from its sleep begin to start,
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And says: ‘Arise, perform your observance!’
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And this made Emily rouse her remembrance
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Of the honour due to May, and so to rise.
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She was clothed fresh to watching eyes;
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Her yellow hair was braided in a tress
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Behind her back, a yard long, I guess.
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And in the garden, as the sun up-rose,
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She walked up and down, and as she chose
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Gathered flowers, mingled, white and red,
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To make a woven garland for her head,
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And sang like an angel, as she went along.
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The great tower, that was so thick and strong,
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That of the castle was the chief dungeon,
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In which the knights were imprisoned,
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Of which I told, and will tell you all,
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Was closely bonded to the garden wall
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Near which this Emily did her walking.
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Bright was the sun and clear that morning,
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And Palamon, that woeful prisoner,
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As was his wont, by leave of his gaoler,
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Had risen and he roamed a room on high,
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Where all the noble city met his eye,
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And so the garden, full of branches green,
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Where this fresh Emily the sweetly seen
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Was at play, and she roamed up and down.
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This sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon,
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Pacing the chamber, roaming to and fro
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And to himself complaining of his woe;
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That he was born, he often cried ‘alas!’
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And so it befell, by chance or happenstance,
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That through a window, thick with many a bar
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Of iron large and square as any spar,
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He cast his eye upon Emilia,
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And thereupon he blanched, and cried ‘Ah!’
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As though he had been stung to the heart.
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And with that cry Arcita gave a start
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And said: ‘My cousin, what aileth thee,
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Who are so pale and death-like to see?
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Why did you cry out? Who gives offence?
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For God’s love, show every patience
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With our prison, not otherwise can it be!
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Fortune has sent us this adversity.
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Some weak aspect or disposition
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Of Saturn, in some configuration,
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Has yielded this, however we have sworn;
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So stood the heavens when that we were born.
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We must endure; that is the short and plain.’
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And Palamon answered, and spoke again:
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‘Cousin, indeed, you are in confusion,
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You are deceived in your imagination.
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This gaol was not the reason for my cry,
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But I was wounded now, through the eye
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To the heart, it will be the death of me.
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The beauty of that lady that I see
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Yonder in the garden roaming to and fro
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Is the cause of all my crying and my woe.
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I know not if she be woman or a goddess,
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But Venus she is in truth, I’d guess.’
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And with that on his knees down he fell
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And said: Venus, if it be your will
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To appear before me in this figure
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In that garden, a sorrowful wretched creature,
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Out of this prison help us to escape.
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And if my destiny is already shaped
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By eternal word to die in prison,
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On our lineage have some compassion,
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That is brought so low by tyranny.’
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And at that word Arcita chanced to see
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This lady as she roamed to and fro,
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And at the sight her beauty hurt him so,
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That if Palamon had been wounded sore,
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Arcita hurts as much as him or more.
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And with a sigh he says piteously:
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‘The fresh beauty slays me suddenly
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Of her that roams about in yonder place,
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And but I have her mercy and her grace,
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That I may see her, at the least, some way,
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I am but dead; there is no more to say.’
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Now Palamon when he heard these words,
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265
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Looked at him angrily and so answered:
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266
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‘Say you this in earnest, or in play?’
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267
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‘Nay,’ quoth Arcita, ‘in earnest, by my faith!
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268
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God help me so, I have no wish to play.’
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269
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Palamon began to knit his brow, and say:
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270
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‘There accrues to you,’ he quoth, ‘no honour
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271
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In being false, or proving now a traitor
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272
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To me, who am your cousin and your brother
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273
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Deeply sworn, and each bound to the other,
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274
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That never, lest we both may die in pain,
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275
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Never, until death shall part us twain,
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276
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Shall either in love be hindrance to the other,
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277
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Nor in any other way, my dear brother,
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278
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Rather you should truly further me
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279
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In every case, as I shall further thee.
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280
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This was your oath and mine also, I say,
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281
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I know in truth you dare not it gainsay.
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282
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So are you my confidant, beyond doubt.
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283
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And now you will falsely be about
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284
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Loving my lady, whom I love and serve
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285
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And ever shall, as long as heart deserve.
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286
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Now indeed, false Arcita, you shall not so!
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287
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I loved her first, and told you of my woe
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288
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As my confidant, and my brother sworn
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289
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To further me, as I have said before.
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290
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By which you are bound as a true knight
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291
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To help me, if it lies within your might,
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292
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Or else you will prove false, I dare maintain!’
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293
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Then Arcita proudly answered him again:
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294
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‘You shall,’ he quoth, ‘rather be false than I.
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295
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And you are false, I tell you that outright;
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296
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For par amour I loved her first, not you.
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297
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What did you say? You scarcely knew
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298
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Whether she was a woman or a goddess?
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299
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Your is affection born of holiness,
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300
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And mine is love as for the creature,
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301
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And that is why I told you at a venture,
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302
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Being my cousin and my brother sworn.
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303
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Suppose it so that you loved her before:
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304
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Do you not know the old clerks’ saw,
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305
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‘Who shall bind a lover with the law?’
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306
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Love is a greater law, by head and hand,
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307
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Than is imposed by any earthly man.
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308
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And therefore social laws and such decrees
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309
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Are broken each day for love, by all degrees.
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310
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A man must love, despite himself, give heed;
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311
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He may not flee it though he die, indeed,
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312
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Be she a maid, a widow, or a wife.
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313
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And then you are little likely, in this life,
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314
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To stand in grace with her; no more shall I.
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315
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You know too well, yourself, and no lie,
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316
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That you and I are condemned to prison
|
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317
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Perpetually; and granted no ransom
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318
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We strive as the hounds did for the bone;
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319
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They fought all day and neither did it own.
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320
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There came a kite, while they were waxing wrath,
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321
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And carried off the bone between them both.
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322
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And therefore, at the king’s court, my brother,
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323
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Each man for himself; law there’s none other.
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324
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Love if you wish; I love, and ever shall.
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325
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And truly believe, brother, this is all:
|
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326
|
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Here in this prison must we endure;
|
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327
|
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And each of us our own chance assure.’
|
| |
|
328
|
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Great was the strife and long between the two,
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329
|
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If I had leisure to tell it all to you.
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|
330
|
|
|
But to the point: it happened on a day,
|
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331
|
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To explain it as briefly as I may,
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332
|
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A worthy Duke, named Pirithous,
|
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333
|
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|
Who had been friends with Duke Theseus
|
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334
|
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|
Since the days when they were children,
|
|
335
|
|
|
Had come to Athens, visiting his friend,
|
|
336
|
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And to amuse himself as he would do;
|
|
337
|
|
|
For in this world he loved no man so,
|
|
338
|
|
|
And he was loved as tenderly again.
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|
339
|
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|
So well they loved, as the old books say,
|
|
340
|
|
|
That when the one was dead, true to tell,
|
|
341
|
|
|
His friend went and sought him down in Hell.
|
|
342
|
|
|
But that is not the story I write here.
|
|
343
|
|
|
Duke Pirithous truly loved Arcita,
|
|
344
|
|
|
And knew him well at Thebes many a year,
|
|
345
|
|
|
And finally, at the request and prayer
|
|
346
|
|
|
Of Pirithous, without any ransom,
|
|
347
|
|
|
Duke Theseus let him out of prison,
|
|
348
|
|
|
To go free, wherever he might choose,
|
|
349
|
|
|
In such a guise as I shall tell to you.
|
| |
|
350
|
|
|
This was the pledge, let me plainly write,
|
|
351
|
|
|
Between Theseus and Arcita, this I cite,
|
|
352
|
|
|
That if so be it Arcita was found,
|
|
353
|
|
|
Ever in life, by day or night, on ground
|
|
354
|
|
|
That in any way belonged to Theseus,
|
|
355
|
|
|
And he were caught, it was agreed thus:
|
|
356
|
|
|
That with a sword he should lose his head.
|
|
357
|
|
|
There was no other remedy be it said,
|
|
358
|
|
|
But to take his leave, and homeward step.
|
|
359
|
|
|
Let him beware; his pledge is now his neck.
|
| |
|
360
|
|
|
How great a sorrow Arcita reveals!
|
|
361
|
|
|
The stroke of death in his heart he feels.
|
|
362
|
|
|
He weeps, he wails, he cries piteously;
|
|
363
|
|
|
He waits to slay himself secretly.
|
|
364
|
|
|
He says: ‘Alas the day that I was born!
|
|
365
|
|
|
Now is my prison worse than before;
|
|
366
|
|
|
Now am I doomed eternally to dwell
|
|
367
|
|
|
Not in Purgatory, but in Hell.
|
|
368
|
|
|
Alas that ever I knew Perithous!
|
|
369
|
|
|
Else I had dwelt with Theseus
|
|
370
|
|
|
Fettered in his prison, evermore so;
|
|
371
|
|
|
Then had I been in bliss, and not in woe.
|
|
372
|
|
|
Only the sight of she whom I serve,
|
|
373
|
|
|
Though that I never her grace may deserve,
|
|
374
|
|
|
Would have sufficed right enough for me.
|
|
375
|
|
|
‘O dear cousin Palamon,’ quoth he,
|
|
376
|
|
|
‘Yours is the victory in this venture!
|
|
377
|
|
|
Full blissfully in prison you endure –
|
|
378
|
|
|
In prison? No, for sure, in Paradise.
|
|
379
|
|
|
Well for you has Fortune cast the dice,
|
|
380
|
|
|
You have sight of her, and I the absence.
|
|
381
|
|
|
For it is possible, since you have her present,
|
|
382
|
|
|
And are a knight, and one noble and able,
|
|
383
|
|
|
That by chance, since Fortune’s changeable,
|
|
384
|
|
|
You may sometime your desire attain.
|
|
385
|
|
|
But I that am exiled, destitute again
|
|
386
|
|
|
Of all grace, and in such great despair
|
|
387
|
|
|
That neither earth nor water, fire nor air,
|
|
388
|
|
|
Nor creature that of them compounded is,
|
|
389
|
|
|
May help me or comfort me in this,
|
|
390
|
|
|
Now I must die in sadness and distress.
|
|
391
|
|
|
Farewell my life, my joy, and my gladness!
|
| |
|
392
|
|
|
Alas, why do folk in general moan
|
|
393
|
|
|
About God’s providence or Fortune,
|
|
394
|
|
|
That often yields to them in many a guise
|
|
395
|
|
|
Much better fates than they themselves devise?
|
|
396
|
|
|
Some man is so desirous of riches,
|
|
397
|
|
|
They cause his murder, or a great sickness.
|
|
398
|
|
|
Another man that would his freedom gain,
|
|
399
|
|
|
Is freed, then by his own household slain.
|
|
400
|
|
|
Infinite harm is hidden in this matter;
|
|
401
|
|
|
We know not what it is we pray for here.
|
|
402
|
|
|
We fare as one that drunk is as a mouse:
|
|
403
|
|
|
A drunken man knows he has a house,
|
|
404
|
|
|
But knows not the right way thither,
|
|
405
|
|
|
And to a drunken man it’s slide and slither.
|
|
406
|
|
|
And that is how for sure in this world we
|
|
407
|
|
|
Go searching hard to find felicity,
|
|
408
|
|
|
But we go wrong so often, tell no lie.
|
|
409
|
|
|
Thus may we all say, and so will I,
|
|
410
|
|
|
That had gone and formed the grand opinion
|
|
411
|
|
|
That if I might escape from prison,
|
|
412
|
|
|
Then I would be in joy and perfect health,
|
|
413
|
|
|
Where instead I am exiled from my wealth,
|
|
414
|
|
|
Since that I may not see you, Emily.
|
|
415
|
|
|
I am but dead; there is no remedy.’
|
| |
|
416
|
|
|
Now on the other hand Palamon,
|
|
417
|
|
|
When he knew that Arcita had gone,
|
|
418
|
|
|
Such sorrow made that the great tower
|
|
419
|
|
|
Echoed to his yowling and his clamour.
|
|
420
|
|
|
The very fetters on his shins yet
|
|
421
|
|
|
Were with his bitter salt tears wet.
|
|
422
|
|
|
‘Alas,’ quoth he, ‘Arcita, cousin mine,
|
|
423
|
|
|
Of all our strife, God knows, comes meagre wine!
|
|
424
|
|
|
You walk now in Thebes at your large,
|
|
425
|
|
|
And with my woe you are little charged.
|
|
426
|
|
|
You may, possessing wisdom and manhood,
|
|
427
|
|
|
Assemble all the folk among our kindred,
|
|
428
|
|
|
And start so fierce a war in this city
|
|
429
|
|
|
That by some venture, or some treaty,
|
|
430
|
|
|
You may have her to be your lady wife
|
|
431
|
|
|
For whose sake I must needs lose my life.
|
|
432
|
|
|
For, as regards the possibility,
|
|
433
|
|
|
Since you are now at large, of prison free,
|
|
434
|
|
|
And are a lord, great is your advantage,
|
|
435
|
|
|
More than mine who starve here in a cage.
|
|
436
|
|
|
For I must weep and wail while I live,
|
|
437
|
|
|
With all the woe that prison life may give,
|
|
438
|
|
|
And with the pain that love grants also,
|
|
439
|
|
|
That doubles my torment and my woe.’
|
| |
|
440
|
|
|
With that he felt the fire of envy start
|
|
441
|
|
|
Within his breast, and seize him by the heart,
|
|
442
|
|
|
So furiously he like was to behold
|
|
443
|
|
|
As box-wood, pale, or ashes dead and cold.
|
| |
|
444
|
|
|
Then said he: ‘O cruel goddess, that controls,
|
|
445
|
|
|
This world with your eternal words enfolds,
|
|
446
|
|
|
Engraving in your tables of adamant
|
|
447
|
|
|
The eternal destinies that you will grant,
|
|
448
|
|
|
What more is mankind to you of old
|
|
449
|
|
|
Than a flock of sheep cowering in a fold?
|
|
450
|
|
|
For man is slain as easily as any beast,
|
|
451
|
|
|
And dwells alike in prison, and is seized,
|
|
452
|
|
|
And suffers sickness, great adversity,
|
|
453
|
|
|
And often he is guiltless, indeed.
|
|
454
|
|
|
What justice is there in your prescience
|
|
455
|
|
|
That torments guiltless innocence?
|
|
456
|
|
|
And yet all my penance is increased:
|
|
457
|
|
|
For man is bound to do as he agreed,
|
|
458
|
|
|
For God’s sake, in curbing of his will,
|
|
459
|
|
|
Whereas a beast may all its lust fulfil.
|
|
460
|
|
|
And when a beast is dead it feels no pain,
|
|
461
|
|
|
But man after death must weep again,
|
|
462
|
|
|
Though in this world he had care and woe;
|
|
463
|
|
|
Without a doubt, things may happen so.
|
|
464
|
|
|
The answer to this I leave to the divines;
|
|
465
|
|
|
But well I know that in this world man pines.
|
|
466
|
|
|
Alas, I see a serpent or a thief,
|
|
467
|
|
|
That to many a man has done mischief,
|
|
468
|
|
|
Go where he wishes, and at will return,
|
|
469
|
|
|
But I must be imprisoned through Saturn,
|
|
470
|
|
|
And Juno, jealous and furious, who would
|
|
471
|
|
|
Destroy well nigh all the Theban blood,
|
|
472
|
|
|
And Thebes itself, its ruined walls spread wide,
|
|
473
|
|
|
While Venus slays me from the other side,
|
|
474
|
|
|
For jealousy and fear of Arcita.’
|
| |
|
475
|
|
|
Now will I turn from Palamon and here
|
|
476
|
|
|
Leave him in his prison now to dwell,
|
|
477
|
|
|
And of Arcita on the instant tell.
|
| |
|
478
|
|
|
The summer passes, and the nights long
|
|
479
|
|
|
Increase in double wise the pains strong,
|
|
480
|
|
|
Both of the lover and the prisoner.
|
|
481
|
|
|
I know not which of them is the sadder:
|
|
482
|
|
|
For briefly for to tell, this Palamon
|
|
483
|
|
|
Is damned perpetually to prison,
|
|
484
|
|
|
In chains and fetters to his final breath;
|
|
485
|
|
|
Arcita is banished, on pain of death,
|
|
486
|
|
|
Exiled for evermore from that country,
|
|
487
|
|
|
And nevermore his lady shall he see.
|
| |
|
488
|
|
|
You lovers, now I ask of you this question:
|
|
489
|
|
|
Who suffers worst, Arcita or Palamon?
|
|
490
|
|
|
The one may see his lady day by day,
|
|
491
|
|
|
But in prison he must dwell always;
|
|
492
|
|
|
The other where he wishes ride or go,
|
|
493
|
|
|
But he shall see his lady nevermore.
|
|
494
|
|
|
Judge as it pleases you, who know and can,
|
|
495
|
|
|
For I will finish that which I began.
|
| |
| |
|
|
1.2. (Part Two)
|
|
0
|
|
|
When that Arcita at Thebes arrived was,
|
|
1
|
|
|
All the day he languished, cried ‘alas!’
|
|
2
|
|
|
For he shall see his lady nevermore.
|
|
3
|
|
|
And briefly to conclude all his woe,
|
|
4
|
|
|
So much sorrow had never a creature
|
|
5
|
|
|
That is or shall be while the world endures.
|
|
6
|
|
|
Of sleep, of meat, of drink, he is bereft,
|
|
7
|
|
|
So that he waxes dry as a spear-shaft;
|
|
8
|
|
|
His eyes hollow and grisly to behold,
|
|
9
|
|
|
His hue sallow and pale as ashes cold.
|
|
10
|
|
|
And solitary he was and ever alone,
|
|
11
|
|
|
And wailing all the night, making his moan.
|
|
12
|
|
|
And if he heard a song or instrument,
|
|
13
|
|
|
Then he would weep, to infinite extent.
|
|
14
|
|
|
So feeble were his spirits and so low,
|
|
15
|
|
|
And changed so that no man might know
|
|
16
|
|
|
His speech, nor his voice, that they heard.
|
|
17
|
|
|
And in his manner for all the world he fared
|
|
18
|
|
|
As not only seized with lovers’ malady
|
|
19
|
|
|
Of heroes, rather with the lunacy
|
|
20
|
|
|
Engendered by a humour melancholic
|
|
21
|
|
|
Up top, in his cerebrum fantastic.
|
|
22
|
|
|
And briefly, was so turned upside-down
|
|
23
|
|
|
In body and disposition, foot to crown,
|
|
24
|
|
|
Of this woeful lover, Sir Arcita
|
|
25
|
|
|
Why write all day about his discomposure?
|
| |
|
26
|
|
|
When he had endured two years or so
|
|
27
|
|
|
Of this cruel torment, this pain and woe,
|
|
28
|
|
|
At Thebes, in his own country, as I said,
|
|
29
|
|
|
Upon a night, asleep, and in his bed,
|
|
30
|
|
|
He thought he saw the winged god Mercury
|
|
31
|
|
|
Standing before him, bidding him be merry.
|
|
32
|
|
|
His wand of sleep he bore in hand upright;
|
|
33
|
|
|
A cap he wore upon his hair bright.
|
|
34
|
|
|
Arrayed was this god, remarked Arcita,
|
|
35
|
|
|
As he was when Argus was the sleeper;
|
|
36
|
|
|
And he said thus: ‘To Athens shall you wend,
|
|
37
|
|
|
There to your woe there is ordained an end.’
|
|
38
|
|
|
And these words woke Arcita with a start.
|
|
39
|
|
|
‘Now, truly, however much it pains my heart,’
|
|
40
|
|
|
Quoth he, ‘to Athens right now will I fare.
|
|
41
|
|
|
Not even for dread of death will I despair
|
|
42
|
|
|
But see my lady that I love and serve;
|
|
43
|
|
|
In her presence from death I shall not swerve.’
|
| |
|
44
|
|
|
And with that word he seized a great mirror,
|
|
45
|
|
|
And saw in it that changed was all his colour,
|
|
46
|
|
|
And saw his visage all of another kind.
|
|
47
|
|
|
And right away it came into his mind
|
|
48
|
|
|
That, since his face was so disfigured
|
|
49
|
|
|
From the sickness that he had endured,
|
|
50
|
|
|
He might well if he kept a humble tone
|
|
51
|
|
|
Live in Athens evermore unknown,
|
|
52
|
|
|
And see his lady well nigh every day.
|
|
53
|
|
|
And so at once he changed his array,
|
|
54
|
|
|
And clad himself as does a labourer;
|
|
55
|
|
|
And all alone, save only for a squire
|
|
56
|
|
|
That knew his secrets and his cause,
|
|
57
|
|
|
And was disguised as humbly as he was,
|
|
58
|
|
|
To Athens is he gone the quickest way.
|
|
59
|
|
|
And to the court he went upon a day,
|
|
60
|
|
|
And at the gate offered |
