PALAMON AND ARCITE:* OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE. BOOK I. 5 IN days of old, there liv'd, of mighty fame, With honour to his home let Theseus ride, With love to friend, and fortune for his guide, I pass their warlike pomp, their proud array, 10 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 15 Chaucer was more than sixty years old, and Dryden seventy, when they wrote Palamon. Sade says, in 1359 Boccace sent a copy of Dante, written by his own hand, to Petrarch, who, it seems, was jealous of Dante, and in his answer speaks coldly of him. Sade, p. 507. Dr. J. W. Betwixt the hardy queen and hero knight; The town besieg'd, and how much blood it cost The female army, and the Athenian host; The spousals of Hippolita the queen; What tilts and tourneys at the feast were seen; 20 25 To tire your patience, and to waste my strength; And trivial accidents shall be forborne, 35 That others may have time to take their turn; 30 40 And beat their breasts, and held their hands on high, Creeping and crying, till they seiz'd at last His courser's bridle, and his feet embrac❜d. 45 Tell me, said Theseus, what and whence you are, And why this funeral pageant you prepare? Name your request, and I will ease your grief. 50 The most in years of all the mourning train 55 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 refus'd 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: And long have waited in the temple nigh, Built to the gracious goddess Clemency. 65 70 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, 75 85 To make their moan, their lords in battle lost Besought his pity to their helpless kind! The prince was touch'd, his tears began to flow, Then lightly from his lofty steed he flew, To comfort each, full solemnly he swore, That by the faith which knights to knighthood bore, And whate'er else to chivalry belongs, He would not cease, till he reveng'd their wrongs: That Greece should see perform'd what he de clar'd; And cruel Creon find his just reward. 105 110 115 He said no more, but, shunning all delay, The bodies of their lords in battle slain : 120 125 And with what ancient rites they were interr'd; All these to fitter times shall be deferr'd: I spare the widows' tears, their woful cries, 130 |