The Poetical Works of John Dryden Volume Ii Part 34

BOOK I.

In days of old, there lived, of mighty fame, A valiant prince, and Theseus was his name: A chief, who more in feats of arms excell'd, The rising nor the setting sun beheld.

Of Athens he was lord; much land he won, And added foreign countries to his crown.

In Scythia with the warrior queen he strove, Whom first by force he conquer'd, then by love; He brought in triumph back the beauteous dame, With whom her sister, fair Emilia, came. 10 With honour to his home let Theseus ride, With love to friend, and fortune for his guide, And his victorious army at his side.

I pa.s.s their warlike pomp, their proud array, Their shouts, their songs, their welcome on the way.

But, were it not too long, I would recite The feats of Amazons, the fatal fight Betwixt the hardy queen and hero knight; The town besieged, and how much blood it cost The female army, and the Athenian host; 20 The spousals of Hippolita the queen; What tilts and tourneys at the feast were seen; The storm at their return, the ladies' fear: But these, and other things, I must forbear.

The field is s.p.a.cious I design to sow, With oxen far unfit to draw the plough: The remnant of my tale is of a length To tire your patience, and to waste my strength; And trivial accidents shall be forborne, That others may have time to take their turn; 30 As was at first enjoin'd us by mine host: That he whose tale is best, and pleases most, Should win his supper at our common cost.

And therefore where I left, I will pursue This ancient story, whether false or true, In hope it may be mended with a new.

The prince I mention'd, full of high renown, In this array drew near the Athenian town; When in his pomp and utmost of his pride, Marching he chanced to cast his eye aside, 40 And saw a choir of mourning dames, who lay By two and two across the common way: At his approach they raised a rueful cry, And beat their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and held their hands on high, Creeping and crying, till they seized at last His courser's bridle, and his feet embraced.

Tell me, said Theseus, what and whence you are, And why this funeral pageant you prepare?

Is this the welcome of my worthy deeds, To meet my triumph in ill-omen'd weeds? 50 Or envy you my praise, and would destroy With grief my pleasures, and pollute my joy?

Or are you injured, and demand relief?

Name your request, and I will ease your grief.

The most in years of all the mourning train Began; but swooned first away for pain, Then scarce recover'd spoke: Nor envy we Thy great renown, nor grudge thy victory; 'Tis thine, O king, the afflicted to redress, And fame has fill'd the world with thy success: 60 We wretched women sue for that alone, Which of thy goodness is refused to none; Let fall some drops of pity on our grief, If what we beg be just, and we deserve relief: For none of us, who now thy grace implore, But held the rank of sovereign queen before; Till, thanks to giddy chance, which never bears, That mortal bliss should last for length of years, She cast us headlong from our high estate, And here in hope of thy return we wait: 70 And long have waited in the temple nigh, Built to the gracious G.o.ddess Clemency.

But reverence thou the Power whose name it bears, Relieve the oppress'd, and wipe the widow's tears.

I, wretched I, have other fortune seen, The wife of Capaneus, and once a queen: At Thebes he fell; cursed be the fatal day!

And all the rest thou seest in this array, To make their moan, their lords in battle lost Before that town besieged by our confederate host: 80 But Creon, old and impious, who commands The Theban city, and usurps the lands, Denies the rites of funeral fires to those Whose breathless bodies yet he calls his foes.

Unburn'd, unburied, on a heap they lie; Such is their fate, and such his tyranny; No friend has leave to bear away the dead, But with their lifeless limbs his hounds are fed.

At this she shriek'd aloud; the mournful train Echoed her grief, and grovelling on the plain, 90 With groans, and hands upheld, to move his mind, Besought his pity to their helpless kind!

The prince was touch'd, his tears began to flow, And, as his tender heart would break in two, He sigh'd, and could not but their fate deplore, So wretched now, so fortunate before.

Then lightly from his lofty steed he flew, And, raising one by one the suppliant crew, To comfort each full solemnly he swore, That by the faith which knights to knighthood bore, 100 And whate'er else to chivalry belongs, He would not cease, till he revenged their wrongs: That Greece should see perform'd what he declared; And cruel Creon find his just reward.

He said no more, but, shunning all delay, Rode on; nor enter'd Athens on his way: But left his sister and his queen behind, And waved his royal banner in the wind: Where in an argent field the G.o.d of war Was drawn triumphant on his iron car; 110 Red was his sword, and s.h.i.+eld, and whole attire, And all the G.o.dhead seem'd to glow with fire; Even the ground glitter'd where the standard flew, And the green gra.s.s was dyed to sanguine hue.

High on his pointed lance his pennon bore His Cretan fight, the conquer'd Minotaur: The soldiers shout around with generous rage, And in that victory their own presage.

He praised their ardour: inly pleased to see His host the flower of Grecian chivalry, 120 All day he march'd, and all the ensuing night, And saw the city with returning light.

The process of the war I need not tell, How Theseus conquer'd, and how Creon fell: Or after, how by storm the walls were won, Or how the victor sack'd and burn'd the town: How to the ladies he restored again The bodies of their lords in battle slain: And with what ancient rites they were interr'd; All these to fitter times shall be deferr'd. 130 I spare the widows' tears, their woeful cries, And howling at their husbands' obsequies; How Theseus at these funerals did a.s.sist, And with what gifts the mourning dames dismiss'd.

Thus when the victor chief had Creon slain, And conquer'd Thebes, he pitch'd upon the plain His mighty camp, and, when the day return'd, The country wasted, and the hamlets burn'd, And left the pillagers, to rapine bred, Without control to strip and spoil the dead. 140

There, in a heap of slain, among the rest Two youthful knights they found beneath a load oppress'd Of slaughter'd foes, whom first to death they sent-- The trophies of their strength, a b.l.o.o.d.y monument.

Both fair, and both of royal blood they seem'd, Whom kinsmen to the crown the heralds deem'd; That day in equal arms they fought for fame; Their swords, their s.h.i.+elds, their surcoats were the same.

Close by each other laid, they press'd the ground, Their manly bosoms pierced with many a grisly wound; 150 Nor well alive, nor wholly dead they were, But some faint signs of feeble life appear: The wandering breath was on the wing to part, Weak was the pulse, and hardly heaved the heart.

These two were sisters' sons; and Arcite one Much famed in fields, with valiant Palamon.

From these their costly arms the spoilers rent, And softly both convey'd to Theseus' tent: Whom, known of Creon's line, and cured with care, He to his city sent as prisoners of the war, 160 Hopeless of ransom, and condemn'd to lie In durance, doom'd a lingering death to die.

This done, he march'd away with warlike sound, And to his Athens turn'd, with laurels crown'd, Where happy long he lived, much loved, and more renown'd.

But in a tower, and never to be loosed, The woful captive kinsmen are enclosed.

Thus year by year they pa.s.s, and day by day, Till once, 'twas on the morn of cheerful May, The young Emilia, fairer to be seen 170 Than the fair lily on the flowery green, More fresh than May herself in blossoms new, For with the rosy colour strove her hue, Waked, as her custom was, before the day, To do the observance due to sprightly May: For sprightly May commands our youth to keep The vigils of her night, and breaks their sluggard sleep; Each gentle breast with kindly warmth she moves; Inspires new flames, revives extinguish'd loves.

In this remembrance, Emily, ere day, 180 Arose, and dress'd herself in rich array; Fresh as the month, and as the morning fair: Adown her shoulders fell her length of hair: A riband did the braided tresses bind, The rest was loose and wanton'd in the wind.

Aurora had but newly chased the night, And purpled o'er the sky with blus.h.i.+ng light, When to the garden walk she took her way, To sport and trip along in cool of day, And offer maiden vows in honour of the May. 190

At every turn, she made a little stand, And thrust among the thorns her lily hand To draw the rose, and every rose she drew She shook the stalk, and brush'd away the dew: Then party-colour'd flowers of white and red She wove, to make a garland for her head: This done, she sung and caroll'd out so clear, That men and angels might rejoice to hear: Even wondering Philomel forgot to sing; And learn'd from her to welcome in the spring. 200 The tower, of which before was mention made, Within whose keep the captive knights were laid, Built of a large extent, and strong withal, Was one part.i.tion of the palace wall; The garden was enclosed within the square Where young Emilia took the morning air.

It happen'd Palamon, the prisoner knight, Restless for woe, arose before the light, And with his jailer's leave desired to breathe An air more wholesome than the damps beneath. 210 This granted, to the tower he took his way, Cheer'd with the promise of a glorious day: Then cast a languis.h.i.+ng regard around, And saw, with hateful eyes, the temples crown'd With golden spires, and all the hostile ground.

He sigh'd, and turn'd his eyes, because he knew 'Twas but a larger jail he had in view: Then look'd below, and from the castle's height Beheld a nearer and more pleasing sight: The garden, which before he had not seen, 220 In spring's new livery clad of white and green, Fresh flowers in wide parterres, and shady walks between.

This view'd, but not enjoy'd, with arms across He stood, reflecting on his country's loss; Himself an object of the public scorn, And often wish'd he never had been born.

At last, for so his destiny required, With walking giddy, and with thinking tired, He through a little window cast his sight, Though thick of bars, that gave a scanty light: 230 But even that glimmering served him to descry The inevitable charms of Emily.

Scarce had he seen, but seized with sudden smart, Stung to the quick, he felt it at his heart; Struck blind with overpowering light he stood, Then started back amazed, and cried aloud.

Young Arcite heard; and up he ran with haste, To help his friend, and in his arms embraced; And ask'd him why he look'd so deadly wan, And whence and how his change of cheer began? 240 Or who had done the offence? But if, said he, Your grief alone is hard captivity; For love of Heaven, with patience undergo A cureless ill, since Fate will have it so: So stood our horoscope in chains to lie, And Saturn in the dungeon of the sky, Or other baleful aspect, ruled our birth, When all the friendly stars were under earth: Whate'er betides, by Destiny 'tis done; And better bear like men, than vainly seek to shun. 250 Nor of my bonds, said Palamon again, Nor of unhappy planets I complain; But when my mortal anguish caused my cry, That moment I was hurt through either eye; Pierced with a random shaft, I faint away, And perish with insensible decay; A glance of some new G.o.ddess gave the wound, Whom, like Actaeon, unaware I found.

Look how she walks along yon shady s.p.a.ce!

Not Juno moves with more majestic grace; 260 And all the Cyprian queen is in her face.

If thou art Venus (for thy charms confess That face was form'd in heaven, nor art thou less Disguised in habit, undisguised in shape), Oh, help us captives from our chains to 'scape!

But if our doom be past in bonds to lie For life, and in a loathsome dungeon die, Then be thy wrath appeased with our disgrace, And show compa.s.sion to the Theban race, Oppress'd by tyrant power! While yet he spoke, 270 Arcite on Emily had fix'd his look; The fatal dart a ready pa.s.sage found, And deep within his heart infix'd the wound: So that if Palamon were wounded sore, Arcite was hurt as much as he, or more: Then from his inmost soul he sigh'd, and said, The beauty I behold has struck me dead: Unknowingly she strikes; and kills by chance; Poison is in her eyes, and death in every glance.

Oh, I must ask; nor ask alone, but move 280 Her mind to mercy, or must die for love!

Thus Arcite: and thus Palamon replies, (Eager his tone and ardent were his eyes): Speak'st thou in earnest, or in jesting vein?

Jesting, said Arcite, suits but ill with pain.

It suits far worse (said Palamon again, And bent his brows) with men who honour weigh, Their faith to break, their friends.h.i.+p to betray; But worst with thee, of n.o.ble lineage born, My kinsman, and in arms my brother sworn. 290 Have we not plighted each our holy oath, That one should be the common good of both; One soul should both inspire, and neither prove His fellow's hindrance in pursuit of love?

To this before the G.o.ds we gave our hands, And nothing but our death can break the bands.

This binds thee, then, to further my design, As I am bound by vow to further thine: Nor canst, nor dar'st thou, traitor, on the plain Appeach my honour, or thine own maintain, 300 Since thou art of my council, and the friend Whose faith I trust, and on whose care depend: And would'st thou court my lady's love, which I Much rather than release would choose to die?

But thou, false Arcite, never shall obtain Thy bad pretence; I told thee first my pain; For first my love began ere thine was born: Thou as my council, and my brother sworn, Art bound to a.s.sist my elders.h.i.+p of right, Or justly to be deem'd a perjured knight. 310

Thus Palamon: but Arcite with disdain In haughty language thus replied again: Forsworn thyself: the traitor's odious name I first return, and then disprove thy claim.

If love be pa.s.sion, and that pa.s.sion nursed With strong desires, I loved the lady first.

Canst thou pretend desire, whom zeal inflamed To wors.h.i.+p, and a power celestial named?

Thine was devotion to the blest above, I saw the woman and desired her love; 320 First own'd my pa.s.sion, and to thee commend The important secret, as my chosen friend.

Suppose (which yet I grant not) thy desire A moment elder than my rival fire; Can chance of seeing first thy t.i.tle prove?

And know'st thou not, no law is made for love?

Law is to things which to free choice relate; Love is not in our choice, but in our fate; Laws are but positive; love's power, we see, Is Nature's sanction, and her first decree. 330 Each day we break the bond of human laws For love, and vindicate the common cause.

Laws for defence of civil rights are placed, Love throws the fences down, and makes a general waste; Maids, widows, wives, without distinction fall; The sweeping deluge, love, comes on, and covers all.

If, then, the laws of friends.h.i.+p I transgress, I keep the greater, while I break the less; And both are mad alike, since neither can possess.

Both hopeless to be ransom'd, never more 340 To see the sun, but as he pa.s.ses o'er.

Like aesop's hounds contending for the bone, Each pleaded right, and would be lord alone: The fruitless fight continued all the day; A cur came by, and s.n.a.t.c.h'd the prize away.

As courtiers, therefore, jostle for a grant, And when they break their friends.h.i.+p, plead their want; So thou, if fortune will thy suit advance, Love on, nor envy me my equal chance; For I must love, and am resolved to try 350 My fate, or, failing in the adventure, die.

Great was their strife, which hourly was renew'd, Till each with mortal hate his rival view'd; Now friends no more, nor walking hand in hand; But when they met, they made a surly stand; And glared like angry lions as they pa.s.s'd, And wish'd that every look might be their last.

It chanced at length, Pirithous came to attend This worthy Theseus, his familiar friend: Their love in early infancy began, 360 And rose as childhood ripen'd into man.

Companions of the war; and loved so well, That when one died, as ancient stories tell, His fellow to redeem him went to h.e.l.l.

But to pursue my tale; to welcome home His warlike brother is Pirithous come: Arcite of Thebes was known in arms long since, And honour'd by this young Thessalian prince.

Theseus, to gratify his friend and guest, Who made our Arcite's freedom his request, 370 Restored to liberty the captive knight, But on these hard conditions I recite: That if hereafter Arcite should be found Within the compa.s.s of Athenian ground, By day or night, or on whate'er pretence, His head should pay the forfeit of the offence.

To this Pirithous for his friend agreed, And on his promise was the prisoner freed.

Unpleased and pensive hence he takes his way, At his own peril; for his life must pay. 380 Who now but Arcite mourns his bitter fate, Finds his dear purchase, and repents too late?

What have I gain'd, he said, in prison pent, If I but change my bonds for banishment?

And banish'd from her sight, I suffer more In freedom than I felt in bonds before; Forced from her presence, and condemn'd to live: Unwelcome freedom, and unthank'd reprieve!

Heaven is not, but where Emily abides, And where she's absent, all is h.e.l.l besides. 390 Next to my day of birth, was that accursed, Which bound my friends.h.i.+p to Pirithous first: Had I not known that prince, I still had been In bondage, and had still Emilia seen: For though I never can her grace deserve, 'Tis recompence enough to see and serve.

O Palamon, my kinsman and my friend, How much more happy fates thy love attend!

Thine is the adventure; thine the victory: Well has thy fortune turn'd the dice for thee: 400 Thou on that angel's face may'st feed thine eyes, In prison, no; but blissful paradise!

Thou daily seest that sun of beauty s.h.i.+ne, And lovest at least in love's extremest line.

I mourn in absence, love's eternal night; And who can tell but since thou hast her sight, And art a comely, young, and valiant knight, Fortune (a various power) may cease to frown, And by some ways unknown thy wishes crown?