by John Dryden
When to the Shrine approach’d, the spotless Maid
Had kindling Fires on either Altar laid: 210
(The Rites were such as were observ’d of old,
By Statius in his Theban Story told.)
Then kneeling with her Hands across her Breast,
Thus lowly she preferr’d her chast Request.
O Goddess, Haunter of the Woodland Green, 215
To whom both Heav’n and Earth and Seas are seen;
Queen of the nether Skies, where half the Year
Thy Silver Beams descend, and light the gloomy Sphere;
Goddess of Maids, and conscious of our Hearts,
So keep me from the Vengeance of thy Darts, 220
Which Niobe’s devoted Issue felt,
When hissing through the Skies the feather’d Deaths were dealt:
As I desire to live a Virgin-life,
Nor know the Name of Mother or of Wife.
Thy Votress from my tender Years I am, 225
And love, like thee, the Woods and Sylvan Game.
Like Death, thou know’st, I loath the Nuptial State,
And Man, the Tyrant of our Sex, I hate,
A lowly Servant, but a lofty Mate.
Where Love is Duty on the Female Side, 230
On theirs mere sensual Gust, and sought with surly Pride.
Now by thy triple Shape, as thou art seen
In Heav’n, Earth, Hell, and ev’ry where a Queen,
Grant this my first Desire; let Discord cease,
And make betwixt the Rivals lasting Peace: 235
Quench their hot Fire, or far from me remove
The Flame, and turn it on some other Love.
Or if my frowning Stars have so decreed,
That one must be rejected, one succeed,
Make him my Lord, within whose faithful Breast 240
Is fix’d my Image, and who loves me best.
But oh! ev’n that avert! I chuse it not,
But take it as the least unhappy Lot.
A Maid I am, and of thy Virgin-Train;
Oh, let me still that spotless Name retain! 245
Frequent the Forests, thy chast Will obey,
And only make the Beasts of Chace my Prey!
The Flames ascend on either Altar clear,
While thus the blameless Maid address’d her Pray’r.
When lo! the burning Fire that shone so bright 250
Flew off, all sudden, with extinguish’d Light,
And left one Altar dark, a little space;
Which turn’d self-kindl’d, and renew’d the Blaze:
That other Victour-Flame a Moment stood
Then fell, and lifeless left th’ extinguish’d Wood; 255
For ever lost, th’ irrevocable Light
Forsook the blackning Coals, and sunk to Night:
At either End it whistled as it flew,
And as the Brands were green, so dropp’d the Dew;
Infected as it fell with Sweat of Sanguin Hue. 260
The Maid from that ill Omen turned her Eyes,
And with loud Shrieks and Clamours rent the Skies,
Nor knew what signifi’d the boding Sign,
But found the Pow’rs displeas’d, and fear’d the Wrath Divine.
Then shook the Sacred Shrine, and sudden Light 265
Sprung through the vaulted Roof, and made the Temple bright.
The Pow’r, behold! the Power in Glory shone,
By her bent Bow and her keen Arrows known;
The rest, a Huntress issuing from the Wood,
Reclining on her Cornel Spear she stood. 270
Then gracious thus began; Dismiss thy Fear,
And Heav’ns unchang’d Decrees attentive hear:
More pow’rful Gods have torn thee from my Side,
Unwilling to resign, and doom’d a Bride:
The two contending Knights are weigh’d above; 275
One Mars protects, and one the Queen of Love:
But which the Man is in the Thund’rer’s Breast,
This he pronoun’d, ’tis he who loves thee best.
The Fire that once extinct, reviv’d again
Foreshews the Love allotted to remain. 280
Farewell! she said, and vanish’d from the Place;
The Sheaf of Arrows shook, and rattl’d in the Case.
Agast at this, the Royal Virgin stood,
Disclaim’d, and now no more a Sister of the Wood:
But to the parting Goddess thus she pray’d: 285
Propitious still, be present to my Aid,
Nor quite abandon your once favour’d Maid.
Then sighing she return’d; but smil’d betwixt,
With Hopes, and Fears, and Joys with Sorrows mixt.
The next returning Planetary Hour 290
Of Mars, who shar’d the Heptarchy of Pow’r,
His Steps bold Arcite to the Temple bent,
T’ adore with Pagan Rites the Pow’r Armipotent:
Then prostrate, low before his Altar lay,
And rais’d his manly Voice, and thus began to pray. 295
Strong God of Arms, whose Iron Scepter sways
The freezing North, and Hyperborean seas,
And Scythian Colds, and Thracia’s Wintry Coast,
Where stand thy Steeds, and thou art honour’d most:
There most, but ev’ry where thy Pow’r is known, 300
The Fortune of the Fight is all thy own:
Terrour is thine, and wild Amazement flung
From out thy Chariot, withers ev’n the Strong:
And Disarray and shameful Rout ensue,
And Force is added to the fainting Crew. 305
Acknowledg’d as thou art, accept my Prayer,
If ought I have atchiev’d deserve thy Care:
If to my utmost Pow’r with Sword and Shield
I dar’d the Death, unknowing how to yield,
And falling in my Rank, still kept the Field: 310
Then let my Arms prevail, by thee sustain’d,
That Emily by Conquest may be gain’d.
Have pity on my Pains; nor those unknown
To Mars, which, when a Lover, were his own.
Venus, the Publick Care of all above, 315
Thy stubborn Heart has softned into Love:
Now by her Blandishments and pow’rful Charms,
When yielded, she lay curling in thy Arms,
Ev’n by thy Shame, if Shame it may be call’d,
When Vulcan had thee in his net inthrall’d; 320
O envy’d Ignominy, sweet Disgrace,
When ev’ry god that saw thee, wish’d thy Place!
By those dear Pleasures, aid my Arms in Fight,
And make me conquer in my Patron’s Right:
For I am young, a Novice in the Trade, 325
The Fool of Love, unpractis’d to persuade;
And want the soothing Arts that catch the Fair,
But, caught my self, lie strugling in the Snare;
And she I love, or laughs at all my Pain
Or knows her Worth too well; and pays me with Disdain. 330
For sure I am, unless I win in Arms,
To stand excluded from Emilia’s Charms:
Nor can my Strength avail, unless by thee
Endu’d with force I gain the Victory:
Then for the Fire which warm’d thy gen’rous Heart, 335
Pity thy Subject’s Pains and equal Smart
So be the Morrows Sweat and Labour mine,
The Palm and Honour of the Conquest thine:
Then shall the War, and stern Debate, and Strife
Immortal, be the Bus’ness of my Life; 340
And in thy Fane, the dusty Spoils among.
High on the burnish’d Roof, my Banner shall be hung;
Rank’d with my Champions Bucklers, and below,
With Arms revers’d, th’ Atchievements of my Foe:
And while these Limbs the vital Spirit feeds, 345
; While Day to Night, and Night to Day succeeds,
Thy smoaking Altar shall be fat with Food
Of Incence and the grateful Steam of Blood;
Burnt Off’rings Morn and Ev’ning shall be thine,
And Fires eternal in thy Temple shine. 350
This Bush of yellow Beard, this Length of Hair,
Which from my Birth inviolate I bear,
Guiltless of Steel, and from the Razour free,
Shall fall a plenteous Crop, reserv’d for thee.
So may my Arms with Victory be blest, 355
I ask no more; let Fate dispose the rest.
The Champion ceas’d; there follow’d in the Close
A hollow Groan; a murm’ring Wind arose,
The Rings of Ir’n, that on the Doors were hung,
Sent out a jarring Sound, and harshly rung 360
The bolted Gates flew open at the Blast,
The Storm rush’d in; and Arcite stood agast:
The Flames were blown aside, yet shone they bright,
Fann’d by the Wind, and gave a ruffl’d Light.
Then from the Ground a Scent began to rise, 365
Sweet-smelling as accepted Sacrifice:
This Omen pleas’d, and as the Flames aspire,
With od’rous Incence Arcite heaps the Fire
Nor wanted Hymns to Mars or Heathen Charms:
At length the nodding Statue clash’d his Arms, 370
And with a sullen Sound, and feeble Cry,
Half sunk, and half pronounc’d the Word of Victory.
For this, with Soul devout, he thank’d the God,
And, of Success secure, return’d to his Abode.
These Vows thus granted, rais’d a Strife above, 375
Betwixt the God of War, and Queen of Love.
She granting first, had Right of Time to plead;
But he had granted too, nor would recede.
Jove was for Venus: but he fear’d his Wife,
And seem’d unwilling to decide the Strife; 380
Till Saturn from his Leaden Throne arose,
And found a Way the Diff’rence to compose:
Though sparing of his Grace, to Mischief bent,
He seldom does a Good with good Intent.
Wayward, but wise; by long Experience taught, 385
To please both Parties, for ill Ends, he sought:
For this Advantage Age from Youth has won,
As not to be outridden, though outrun.
By Fortune he was now to Venus Trin’d,
And with stern Mars in Capricorn was join’d: 390
Of him disposing in his own Abode,
He sooth’d the Goddess, while he gull’d the God:
Cease, Daughter, to complain; and stint the Strife;
Thy Palamon shall have his promis’d Wife:
And Mars, the Lord of Conquest, in the Fight 395
With Palmand Laurel shall adorn his Knight.
Wide is my Course, nor turn I to my Place
Till Length of Time, and move with tardy Pace.
Man feels me, when I press th’ Etherial Plains;
My Hand is heavy, and the Wound remains. 400
Mine is the Shipwreck in a Watry Sign;
And in an Earthy, the dark Dungeon mine.
Cold shivering Agues, melancholy Care,
And bitter blasting Winds, and poison’d Air,
Are mine, and wilful Death, resulting from Despair. 405
The throtling Quinsey ’tis my Star appoints,
And Rheumatisms I send to rack the Joints:
When Churls rebel against their Native Prince,
I arm their Hands, and furnish the Pretence;
And housing in the Lion’s hateful Sign, 410
Bought Senates, and deserting Troops are mine.
Mine is the privy Pois’ning; I command
Unkindly Seasons, and ungrateful Land.
By me Kings Palaces are push’d to Ground,
And Miners, crush’d beneath their Mines are found. 415
’Twas I slew Samson, when the Pillar’d Hall
Fell down, and crush’d the Many with the Fall.
My Looking is the Sire of Pestilence,
That sweeps at once the People and the Prince.
Now weep no more, but trust thy Grandsire’s Art; 420
Mars shall be pleas’d, and thou perform thy Part.
’Tis ill, though diff’rent your Complexions are,
The Family of Heav’n for Men should war.
Th’ Expedient pleas’d, where neither lost his Right:
Mars had the Day, and Venus had the Night. 425
The Management they left to Chronos Care.
Now turn we to th’ Effect, and sing the War.
In Athens all was Pleasure, Mirth, and Play,
All proper to the Spring, and spritely May:
Which every Soul inspir’d with such Delight, 430
’Twas Justing all the Day, and Love at Night.
Heav’n smil’d, and gladded was the Heart of Man;
And Venus had the World, as when it first began.
At length in Sleep their Bodies they compose,
And dreamt the future Fight, and early rose. 435
Now scarce the dawning Day began to spring,
As at a Signal giv’n, the Streets with Clamours ring:
At once the Crowd arose; confus’d and high,
Even from the Heav’n was heard a shouting Cry;
For Mars was early up, and rowz’d the Sky. 440
The Gods came downward to behold the Wars,
Sharpning their Sights, and leaning from their Stars.
The Neighing of the gen’rous Horse was heard,
For Battel by the busie Groom prepar’d:
Rustling of Harness, ratling of the Shield, 445
Clatt’ring of Armour, furbish’d for the Field.
Crowds to the Castle mounted up the Street;
Batt’ring the Pavement with their Coursers Feet:
The greedy Sight might there devour the Gold
Of glittring Arms, too dazling to behold: 450
And polish’d Steel that cast the View aside,
And Crested Morions, with their Plumy Pride.
Knights, with a long Retinue of their Squires,
In gawdy Liv’ries march, and quaint Attires.
One lac’d the Helm, another held the Lance: 455
A third the shining Buckler did advance.
The Courser paw’d the Ground with restless Feet,
And snorting foam’d, and champ’d the Golden Bit.
The Smiths and Armourers on Palfreys ride.
Files in their Hands, and Hammers at their Side, 460
And nails for loosen’d Spears, and Thongs for Shields provide.
The Yeomen guard the Streets, in seemly Bands;
And Clowns come crowding on, with Cudgels in their Hands.
The Trumpets, next the Gate, in order plac’d,
Attend the Sign to sound the Martial Blast: 465
The Palace-yard is fill’d with floating Tides,
And the last Comers bear the former to the Sides.
The Throng is in the midst: The common Crew
Shut out, the Hall admits the better Few.
In Knots they stand, or in a Rank they walk, 470
Serious in Aspect, earnest in their Talk:
Factious, and fav’ring this or t’other Side,
As their strong Fancies, and weak Reason guide;
Their Wagers back their Wishes: Numbers hold
With the fair freckl’d King, and Beard of Gold: 475
So vig’rous are his Eyes, such Rays they cast,
So prominent his Eagles Beak is plac’d.
But most their Looks on the black Monarch bend,
His rising Muscles, and his Brawn commend;
His double-biting Ax, and beamy Spear, 480
Each asking a Gygantick Force to rear.
All spoke as partial Favour mov’d the mi
nd;
And safe themselves, at others Cost divin’d.
Wak’d by the Cries, th’ Athenian Chief arose.
The Knightly Forms of Combate to dispose; 485
And passing through th’ obsequious Guards, he sate
Conspicuous on a Throne, sublime in State;
There, for the two contending Knights he sent:
Arm’d Cap-a-pe, with Rev’rence low they bent;
He smil’d on both, and with superiour Look 490
Alike their offer’d Adoration took.
The People press on ev’ry Side to see
Their awful Prince, and hear his high Decree.
Then signing to their Heralds with his Hand,
They gave his Orders from their lofty Stand. 495
Silence is thrice enjoin’d; then thus aloud
The King at Arms bespeaks the Knights and listning Crowd.
Our Sovereign Lord has ponder’d in his Mind
The Means to spare the Blood of gentle Kind;
And of his Grace and in-born Clemency 500
He modifies his first severe Decree;
The keener Edge of Battel to rebate,
The Troops for Honour fighting, not for Hate.
He wills, not Death shou’d terminate their Strife,
And Wounds, if Wounds ensue, be short of Life; 505
But issues, e’er the Fight, his dread Command,
That Slings afar, and Ponyards Hand to Hand,
Be banish’d from the Field; that none shall dare
With shortned Sword to stab in closer War;
But in fair Combate fight with manly Strength 510
Nor push with biting Point, but strike at length.
The Turney is allow’d but one Career,
Of the tough Ash, with the sharp-grinded Spear.
But Knights unhors’d may rise from off the Plain,
And fight on Foot, their Honour to regain. 515
Nor, if at Mischief taken, on the Ground
Be slain, but Pris’ners to the Pillar bound,
At either Barrier placed; nor (Captives made,)
Be freed, or arm’d anew the Fight invade:
The Chief of either side, bereft of Life, 520
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: 525
Heav’n guard a Prince so gracious and so good,
So just, and yet so provident of Blood!
This was the gen’ral Cry. The Trumpets sound,
And Warlike Symphony is heard around.
The marching Troops through Athens take their Way, 530
The great Earl-Marshal orders their Array.
The Fair from high the passing Pomp behold;
