Dryden's Palamon and Arcite Part 10

The turney is allowed but one career Of the tough ash, with the sharp-grinded spear; But knights unhorsed may rise from off the plain, And fight on foot their honour to regain; Nor, if at mischief taken, on the ground Be slain, but prisoners to the pillar bound, At either barrier placed; nor, captives made, Be freed, or armed anew the fight invade: The chief of either side, bereft of life, Or yielded to his foe, concludes the strife.

Thus dooms the lord: now valiant knights and young, Fight each his fill, with swords and maces long."

The herald ends: the vaulted firmament With loud acclaims and vast applause is rent: Heaven guard a Prince so gracious and so good, So just, and yet so provident of blood!

This was the general cry. The trumpets sound, And warlike symphony is heard around.

The marching troops through Athens take their way, The great Earl-marshal orders their array.

The fair from high the pa.s.sing pomp behold; A rain of flowers is from the window rolled.

The cas.e.m.e.nts are with golden tissue spread, And horses' hoofs, for earth, on silken tapestry tread.

The King goes midmost, and the rivals ride In equal rank, and close his either side.

Next after these there rode the royal wife, With Emily, the cause and the reward of strife.

The following cavalcade, by three and three, Proceed by t.i.tles marshalled in degree.

Thus through the southern gate they take their way, And at the list arrived ere prime of day.

There, parting from the King, the chiefs divide, And wheeling east and west, before their many ride.

The Athenian monarch mounts his throne on high, And after him the Queen and Emily: Next these, the kindred of the crown are graced With nearer seats, and lords by ladies placed.

Scarce were they seated, when with clamours loud In rushed at once a rude promiscuous crowd, The guards, and then each other overbare, And in a moment throng the s.p.a.cious theatre.

Now changed the jarring noise to whispers low, As winds forsaking seas more softly blow, When at the western gate, on which the car Is placed aloft that bears the G.o.d of War, Proud Arcite entering armed before his train Stops at the barrier, and divides the plain.

Red was his banner, and displayed abroad The b.l.o.o.d.y colours of his patron G.o.d.

At that self moment enters Palamon The gate of Venus, and the rising Sun; Waved by the wanton winds, his banner flies, All maiden white, and shares the people's eyes.

From east to west, look all the world around, Two troops so matched were never to be found; Such bodies built for strength, of equal age, In stature sized; so proud an equipage: The nicest eye could no distinction make, Where lay the advantage, or what side to take.

Thus ranged, the herald for the last proclaims A silence, while they answered to their names: For so the king decreed, to shun with care The fraud of musters false, the common bane of war.

The tale was just, and then the gates were closed; And chief to chief, and troop to troop opposed.

The heralds last retired, and loudly cried, "The fortune of the field be fairly tried!"

At this the challenger, with fierce defy, His trumpet sounds; the challenged makes reply: With clangour rings the field, resounds the vaulted sky.

Their vizors closed, their lances in the rest, Or at the helmet pointed or the crest, They vanish from the barrier, speed the race, And spurring see decrease the middle s.p.a.ce.

A cloud of smoke envelopes either host, And all at once the combatants are lost: Darkling they join adverse, and shock unseen, Coursers with coursers justling, men with men: As labouring in eclipse, a while they stay, Till the next blast of wind restores the day.

They look anew: the beauteous form of fight Is changed, and war appears a grisly sight.

Two troops in fair array one moment showed, The next, a field with fallen bodies strowed: Not half the number in their seats are found; But men and steeds lie grovelling on the ground.

The points of spears are stuck within the s.h.i.+eld, The steeds without their riders scour the field.

The knights unhorsed, on foot renew the fight; The glittering fauchions cast a gleaming light; Hauberks and helms are hewed with many a wound, Out spins the streaming blood, and dyes the ground.

The mighty maces with such haste descend, They break the bones, and make the solid armour bend.

This thrusts amid the throng with furious force; Down goes, at once, the horseman and the horse: That courser stumbles on the fallen steed, And, floundering, throws the rider o'er his head.

One rolls along, a football to his foes; One with a broken truncheon deals his blows.

This halting, this disabled with his wound, In triumph led, is to the pillar bound, Where by the king's award he must abide: There goes a captive led on t'other side.

By fits they cease, and leaning on the lance, Take breath a while, and to new fight advance.

Full oft the rivals met, and neither spared His utmost force, and each forgot to ward: The head of this was to the saddle bent, The other backward to the crupper sent: Both were by turns unhorsed; the jealous blows Fall thick and heavy, when on foot they close.

So deep their fauchions bite, that every stroke Pierced to the quick; and equal wounds they gave and took.

Borne far asunder by the tides of men, Like adamant and steel they met agen.

So when a tiger sucks the bullock's blood, A famished lion issuing from the wood Roars lordly fierce, and challenges the food.

Each claims possession, neither will obey, But both their paws are fastened on the prey; They bite, they tear; and while in vain they strive, The swains come armed between, and both to distance drive.

At length, as Fate foredoomed, and all things tend By course of time to their appointed end; So when the sun to west was far declined, And both afresh in mortal battle joined, The strong Emetrius came in Arcite's aid, And Palamon with odds was overlaid: For, turning short, he struck with all his might Full on the helmet of the unwary knight.

Deep was the wound; he staggered with the blow, And turned him to his unexpected foe; Whom with such force he struck, he felled him down, And cleft the circle of his golden crown.

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

Who now laments but Palamon, compelled No more to try the fortune of the field, And, worse than death, to view with hateful eyes His rival's conquest, and renounce the prize!

The royal judge on his tribunal placed, Who had beheld the fight from first to last, Bade cease the war; p.r.o.nouncing from on high, Arcite of Thebes had won the beauteous Emily.

The sound of trumpets to the voice replied, And round the royal lists the heralds cried, "Arcite of Thebes has won the beauteous bride!"

The people rend the skies with vast applause; All own the chief, when Fortune owns the cause.

Arcite is owned even by the G.o.ds above, And conquering Mars insults the Queen of Love.

So laughed he when the rightful t.i.tan failed, And Jove's usurping arms in heaven prevailed.

Laughed all the powers who favour tyranny, And all the standing army of the sky.

But Venus with dejected eyes appears.

And weeping on the lists distilled her tears; Her will refused, which grieves a woman most, And, in her champion foiled, the cause of Love is lost.

Till Saturn said:--"Fair daughter, now be still, "The bl.u.s.tering fool has satisfied his will; His boon is given; his knight has gained the day, But lost the prize; the arrears are yet to pay.

Thy hour is come, and mine the care shall be To please thy knight, and set thy promise free."

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

The victor knight had laid his helm aside, Part for his ease, the greater part for pride: Bareheaded, popularly low he bowed, And paid the salutations of the crowd; Then spurring, at full speed, ran headlong on Where Theseus sat on his imperial throne; Furious he drove, and upward cast his eye, Where, next the Queen, was placed his Emily; Then 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 flas.h.i.+ng fire, By Pluto sent, at Saturn's bad desire: The startling steed was seized with sudden fright, And, bounding, o'er the pummel cast the knight; Forward he flew, and pitching on his head, He quivered with his feet, and lay for dead.

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

Help was at hand: they reared him from the ground, And from his c.u.mbrous arms his limbs unbound; Then lanced a vein, and watched returning breath; It came, but clogged with symptoms of his death.

The saddle-bow the n.o.ble parts had prest, All bruised and mortified his manly breast.

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

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

Mean time the King, though inwardly he mourned, In pomp triumphant to the town returned, Attended by the chiefs who fought the field, (Now friendly mixed, and in one troop compelled;) Composed his looks to counterfeited cheer, And bade them not for Arcite's life to fear.

But that which gladded all the warrior train, Though most were sorely wounded, none were slain.

The surgeons soon despoiled them of their arms, And some with salves they cure, and some with charms; Foment the bruises, and the pains 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; Honours the princely chiefs, rewards the rest, And holds for thrice three days a royal feast.

None was disgraced; for falling is no shame, And cowardice alone is loss of fame.

The venturous knight is from the saddle thrown, But 'tis the fault of fortune, not his own; If crowds and palms the conquering side adorn, The victor under better stars was born:

The brave man seeks not popular applause, Nor, overpowered with arms, deserts his canse; Unshamed, though foiled, he does the best he can: Force is of brutes, but honour is of man.

Thus Theseus smiled on all with equal grace, And each was set according to his place; With ease were reconciled the differing parts, For envy never dwells in 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; Swoln is his breast; his inward pains increase; All means are used, and all without success.

The clottered blood lies heavy on his heart, Corrupts, and there remains in spite of art; Nor breathing veins nor cupping will prevail; All outward remedies and inward fail.

The mould of nature's fabric is destroyed, Her vessels discomposed, her virtue void: The bellows of his lungs begins to swell; All out of frame is every secret cell, Nor can the good receive, nor bad expel.

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

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

The midmost region battered and destroyed, When nature cannot work, the effect of art is void: For physic can but mend our crazy state, Patch an old building, not a new create.

Arcite is doomed to die in all his pride, Must leave his youth, and yield his beauteous bride, Gained hardly against right, and unenjoyed.

When 'twas declared all hope of life was past, Conscience, that of all physic works the last, Caused him to send for Emily in haste.

With her, at his desire, came Palamon; Then, on his pillow raised, he thus begun: "No language can express the smallest part Of what I feel, and suffer in my heart, For you, whom best I love and value most; But to your service I bequeath my ghost; Which, from this mortal body when untied, Unseen, unheard, shall hover at your side; Nor fright you waking, nor your sleep offend, But wait officious, and your steps attend.

How I have loved, excuse my faltering tongue, My spirit's feeble, and my pains are strong: This I may say, I only grieve to die, Because I lose my charming Emily.

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

Fate could not choose a more malicious hour.

What greater curse could envious Fortune give, Than just to die when I began to live!

Vain men! how vanis.h.i.+ng a bliss we crave; Now warm in love, now withering in the grave!

Never, O never more to see the sun!

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