And som tyme dooth hem Theseus to reste,
Hem to refresshe, and drinken if hem leste.
Ful ofte a-day han thise Thebanes two
Togidre y-met, and wroght his felawe wo;
Unhorsed hath ech other of hem tweye.
Ther nas no tygre in the vale of Galgopheye,
Whan that hir whelp is stole, whan it is lyte,
So cruel on the hunte, as is Arcite
For jelous herte upon this Palamoun:
Ne in Belmarye ther nis so fel leoun,
That hunted is, or for his hunger wood,
Ne of his praye desireth so the blood,
As Palamon to sleen his fo Arcite.
The jelous strokes on hir helmes byte;
So that there was no doubt of their equal numbers,
Then the gates were shut, and cried was loud:
“Do now your duty, young knights proud!”
The heralds left their riding up and down;
Now rang trumpets loud and clarion.
There is no more to say, but west and east
In go the spears full solidly into the spear rests;
In go the sharp spurs into the side.
There see men who can joust and who can ride;
There shatter shafts upon shields thick;
One feels through the breastbone the prick.
Up spring spears twenty feet on high;
Out go the swords as the silver bright.
The helmets they hew and to pieces shred;
Out bursts the blood, with gushing streams red.
With mighty maces the bones they smash,
He through the thickest of the throng can press;
There strong steeds stumble, and down go all;
He rolls under foot as does a ball.
He parries on foot with his shattered spear,
And knocks horse and rider to the ground.
He through the body is hurt and then taken,
Despite all he could do, and brought to the stake.
As agreement was, there he must abide;
Another carried off on the other side.
And from time to time Theseus causes them to rest,
Them to refresh and drink, if they wish.
Full often through the day have these Thebans two
Together met, and wrought his fellow woe;
Unhorsed has each the other of them twice.
There was no tiger in the vale of Gargaphie,
When its little cub was taken,
So cruel toward the hunter was Arcita
For jealous heart toward this Palamon.
Nor in Benmarin was there so fierce a lion
That hunted was, or crazed by hunger,
Nor of his prey desired so the blood,
As Palamon to slay his foe Arcita.
The iealous strokes on their helmets bite;
Out renneth blood on both hir sydes rede.
Some tyme an ende ther is of every dede;
For er the sonne un-to the reste wente,
The stronge king Emetreus gan hente
This Palamon, as he faught with Arcite,
And made his swerd depe in his flesh to byte;
And by the force of twenty is he take
Unyolden, and y-drawe unto the stake.
And in the rescous of this Palamoun
The stronge king Ligurge is born adoun;
And king Emetreus, for al his strengthe,
Is born out of his sadel a swerdes lengthe,
So hitte him Palamon er he were take;
But al for noght, he was broght to the stake.
His hardy herte mighte him helpe naught;
He moste abyde, whan that he was caught
By force, and eek by composicioun.
Who sorweth now but woful Palamoun,
That moot namore goon agayn to fighte?
And whan that Theseus had seyn this sighte,
Un-to the folk that foghten thus echoon
He cryde, “Ho! namore, for it is doon!
I wol be trewe juge, and no partye.
Arcite of Thebes shal have Emelye,
That by his fortune hath hir faire y-wonne.”
Anon ther is a noyse of peple bigonne
For joye of this, so loude and heigh withalle,
It seemed that the listes sholde falle.
What can now faire Venus doon above?
What seith she now? what dooth this quene of love?
But wepeth so, for wanting of hir wille,
Til that hir teres in the listes fille;
She seyde: “I am ashamed, doutelees.”
Saturnus seyde: “Doghter, hold thy pees.
Mars hath his wille, his knight hath al his bone,
And, by myn heed, thou shalt ben esed sone.”
The trompes, with the loude minstralcye,
The heraudes, that ful loude yolle and crye,
Been in hir wele for joye of daun Arcite.
Out runs blood on both their sides red.
At some time an end there is of every deed.
For before the sun unto its rest went,
The strong king Emetreus seized
This Palamon, as he fought with Arcita,
And made his sword deep in his flesh to bite;
And by the force of twenty is Palamon taken
Unyielding, and dragged unto the stake.
And in the attempted rescue of this Palamon
The strong king Licurgus is borne down;
And King Emetreus, for all his strength,
Was knocked out of his saddle a sword’s length,
So hit him Palamon before he was taken.
But all for nought: he was brought to the stake.
His bold heart might help him not;
He must abide, when he was caught,
By necessity and also by agreement.
Who sorrows now but woeful Palamon,
Who must no more go again to fight?
And when Theseus had seen this sight,
Unto the folk who fought thus every one
He cried, “Halt! no more, for it is done!
I will be true judge, and not partisan.
Arcita of Thebes shall have Emily,
Who by his fortune has her fairly won.”
Anon there is a noise of people begun
For joy of this, so loud and great withal,
It seemed that the arena should fall.
What now could fair Venus do above?
What says she now? what does this queen of love?
But weep so, for lacking of her will,
Till that her tears on the battleground fell?
She said, “I am ashamed, doubtless.”
Saturn said, “Daughter, hold your peace.
Mars has his will, his knight has all his request;
And by my head, you shall be satisfied soon.”
The trumpeters with the loud music,
The heralds who full loud yell and cry,
Were in their happiness for joy of sir Arcita.
But herkneth me, and stinteth now a lyte,
Which a miracle ther bifel anon.
This fierse Arcite hath of his helm y-don,
And on a courser, for to shewe his face,
He priketh endelong the large place,
Loking upward up-on this Emelye;
And she agayn him caste a freendlich ye,
(For wommen, as to speken in comune,
They folwen al the favour of fortune);
And she was al his chere, as in his herte.
Out of the ground a furie infernal sterte,
From Pluto sent, at requeste of Saturne,
For which his hors for fere gan to turne,
And leep asyde, and foundred as he leep;
And, er that Arcite may taken keep,
He pighte him on the pomel of his heed,
That in the place he lay as he were deed,
His brest to-brosten with his sadel-bowe.
As blak he
lay as any cole or crowe,
So was the blood y-ronnen in his face.
Anon he was y-born out of the place
With herte soor, to Theseus paleys.
Tho was he corven out of his harneys,
And in a bed y-brought ful faire and blyve,
For he was yet in memorie and alyve,
And alway crying after Emelye.
Duk Theseus, with al his companye,
Is comen hoom to Athenes his citee,
With alle blisse and greet solempnitee.
Al be it that this aventure was falle,
He nolde noght disconforten hem alle.
Men seyde eek, that Arcite shal nat dye;
He shal ben heled of his maladye.
And of another thing they were as fayn,
That of hem alle was ther noon y-slayn,
Al were they sore y-hurt, and namely oon,
That with a spere was thirled his brest-boon.
To othere woundes, and to broken armes,
Some hadden salves, and some hadden charmes;
But listen to me now, and cease your noise a little,
To hear what a miracle there befell anon.
This bold Arcita has off his helmet taken,
And on a courser, to show his face,
He spurred the length of the battleground,
Looking upward upon this Emily;
And she toward him cast a friendly eye
(For women, to speak in general,
Follow all the favor of fortune)
And she was all his happiness, as in his heart.
Then out of the ground a fury infernal leaped,
From Pluto sent at request of Saturn,
For which his horse for fear began to turn
And leapt aside, and fell back on him as he leapt;
And before Arcita could take heed,
He pitched on the crown of his head,
And in the place he lay as if he were dead,
His breast shattered by his saddlebow.
As black he lay as any coal or crow,
So was the blood suffusing his face.
Anon he was borne out of the place,
With heart sore, to Theseus’ palace.
Then was he cut out of his armor,
And in a bed brought full fair and soon,
For he was yet conscious and alive,
And always crying after Emily.
Duke Theseus, with all his company,
Is come home to Athens his city,
With all bliss and great solemnity.
Albeit that this accident had occurred,
He did not want to discomfort them all.
Men said also that Arcita shall not die;
He shall be healed of his malady.
And of another thing they were as glad,
That of them all was there none slain,
Although were they sore hurt and especially one,
Who by a spear was pierced through his breast bone.
For other wounds and for broken arms
Some had salves, and some had charms;
Fermacies of herbes, and eek save
They dronken, for they wolde hir limes have.
For which this noble duk, as he wel can,
Conforteth and honoureth every man,
And made revel al the longe night,
Un-to the straunge lordes, as was right.
Ne ther was holden no disconfitinge,
But as a justes or a tourneyinge;
For soothly ther was no disconfiture,
For falling nis nat but an aventure;
Ne to be lad with fors un-to the stake
Unyolden, and with twenty knightes take.
O persone allone, with-outen mo,
And haried forth by arme, foot, and to,
And eek his stede driven forth with staves,
With footmen, bothe yemen and eek knaves,
It nas aretted him no vileinye,
Ther may no man clepen it cowardye.
For which anon duk Theseus leet crye,
To stinten alle rancour and envye,
The gree as wel of o syde as of other,
And either syde y-lyk, as otheres brother;
And yaf hem yiftes after hir degree,
And fully heeld a feste dayes three;
And conveyed the kinges worthily
Out of his toun a journee largely.
And hoom wente every man the righte way.
Ther was namore, but “far wel, have good day!”
Of this bataille I wol namore endyte,
But speke of Palamon and of Arcite.
Swelleth the brest of Arcite, and the sore
Encreesseth at his herte more and more.
The clothered blood, for any lechecraft,
Corrupteth, and is in his bouk y-laft,
That neither veyne-blood, ne ventusinge,
Ne drinke of herbes may ben his helpinge.
The vertu expulsif, or animal,
Fro thilke vertu cleped natural
Ne may the venim voyden, ne expelle.
Medicines of herbs, and also an herb potion
They drank, for they would their limbs preserve.
For which this noble duke, as well as he knew,
Comforted and honored every man,
And made revel all the long night
With the foreign lords, as was right.
Nor was there held any bad blood
For it was a joust or tourneying;
For truly there was no discomfiture,
For falling was not but an accident.
Nor to be led with force unto the stake
Unyielding, and by twenty knights taken,
One person alone, without more,
And dragged forth by arm, foot and toe,
And also his steed driven forth with sticks
By foot soldiers, both yeomen and servants—
It was assigned to him no disgrace;
There may no man call it cowardice.
For which anon duke Theseus had declared,
To stop all rancor and bad blood,
The worth of one side as equal to the other,
And each side alike as if the other’s brother;
And gave them gifts after their rank,
And fully held a feast for days three;
And conveyed the kings worthily
Out of his town a day’s ride fully.
And home went every man the right way.
There was no more but “Farewell, have a good day!”
Of this battle I will no more write,
But speak of Palamon and Arcita.
Swelled the breast of Arcita, and the sore
Increased at his heart more and more.
The clotted blood, despite all medicine,
Corrupted and was in his body left,
Neither bloodletting, nor cupping,
Nor drink of herbs may be his helping.
His spirit’s virtue could not compel
His body’s virtue the bad
Blood to expel
The pypes of his longes gonne to swelle,
And every lacerte in his brest adoun
Is shent with venim and corrupcioun.
Him gayneth neither, for to gete his lyf,
Vomyt upward, ne dounward laxatif;
Al is to-brosten thilke regioun,
Nature hath now no dominacioun.
And certeinly, ther nature wol nat wirche,
Far-wel, phisyk! go ber the man to chirche!
This al and som, that Arcita mot dye,
For which he sendeth after Emelye,
And Palamon, that was his cosin dere;
Than seyde he thus, as ye shul after here.
“Naught may the woful spirit in myn herte
Declare o poynt of alle my sorwes smerte
To yow, my lady, that I love most;
But I biquethe the service of my gost
To yow aboven every creature,
Sin that my lyf
may no lenger dure.
Allas, the wo! allas, the peynes stronge,
That I for yow have suffred, and so longe!
Alias, the deeth! allas, myn Emelye!
Allas, departing of our companye!
Alias, myn hertes quene! alias, my wyf!
Myn hertes lady, endere of my lyf!
What is this world? what asketh men to have?
Now with his love, now in his colde grave
Allone, with-outen any companye.
Far-wel, my swete fo! myn Emelye!
And softe tak me in your armes tweye,
For love of God, and herkneth what I seye.
I have heer with my cosin Palamon
Had stryf and rancour, many a day a-gon,
For love of yow, and for my jelousye.
And Jupiter so wis my soule gye,
To speken of a servant proprely,
With alle circumstaunces trewely,
That is to seyn, trouthe, honour, and knighthede,
Wisdom, humblesse, estaat, and heigh kinrede,
And the pipes of his lungs began to swell.
And every muscle in his breast
Is damaged by venom and corruption.
Him helped neither, to save his life,
Vomit upward nor downward laxative;
All is shattered in that region.
Nature had now no healing power;
And certainly, where nature will not work,
Farewell, medicine, go bear the man to church.
This is all there is, that Arcita must die;
For which he sent after Emily
And Palamon, who was his cousin dear.
Then said he thus, as you shall after hear:
“May the woeful spirit in my heart
Not declare one part of all my sores sharp
To you, my lady, whom I love most;
But I bequeath the service of my spirit
To you above every creature,
Since my life may no longer endure.
Alas, the woe! alas, the pains strong,
That for you I have suffered, and so long!
Alas, the death! alas, my Emily!
Alas, that we must part!
Alas, my heart’s queen! alas, my wife!
My heart’s lady, ender of my life!
What is this world? What do men ask to have?
Now with his love, now in his cold grave
Alone, without any company.
Farewell, my sweet foe, my Emily!
And soft take me in your arms two,
For love of God, and listen to what I say:
I have here with my cousin Palamon
Had strife and rancor many a day gone by,
For love of you and for my jealousy.
And Jupiter wisely guide me
To speak about a servant of love properly,
With all necessary qualities truly—
That is to say, fidelity, honor, knighthood,
Wisdom, humility, rank and kindred,
Fredom, and al that longeth to that art,
Canterbury Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 20
