Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  When he saw them so piteous and so mate1 1abased

  That whilom weren of so great estate.

  And in his armes he them all up hent1, 1raised, took

  And them comforted in full good intent,

  And swore his oath, as he was true knight,

  He woulde do 1so farforthly his might1 1as far as his power went1

  Upon the tyrant Creon them to wreak1, 1avenge

  That all the people of Greece shoulde speak,

  How Creon was of Theseus y-served,

  As he that had his death full well deserved.

  And right anon withoute more abode1 1delay

  His banner he display’d, and forth he rode

  To Thebes-ward, and all his, host beside:

  No ner1 Athenes would he go nor ride, 1nearer

  Nor take his ease fully half a day,

  But onward on his way that night he lay:

  And sent anon Hippolyta the queen,

  And Emily her younge sister sheen1 1bright, lovely

  Unto the town of Athens for to dwell:

  And forth he rit1; there is no more to tell. 1rode

  The red statue of Mars with spear and targe1 1shield

  So shineth in his white banner large

  That all the fieldes glitter up and down:

  And by his banner borne is his pennon

  Of gold full rich, in which there was y-beat1 1stamped

  The Minotaur which that he slew in Crete

  Thus rit this Duke, thus rit this conqueror

  And in his host of chivalry the flower,

  Till that he came to Thebes, and alight

  Fair in a field, there as he thought to fight.

  But shortly for to speaken of this thing,

  With Creon, which that was of Thebes king,

  He fought, and slew him manly as a knight

  In plain bataille, and put his folk to flight:

  And by assault he won the city after,

  And rent adown both wall, and spar, and rafter;

  And to the ladies he restored again

  The bodies of their husbands that were slain,

  To do obsequies, as was then the guise1. 1custom

  But it were all too long for to devise1 1describe

  The greate clamour, and the waimenting1, 1lamenting

  Which that the ladies made at the brenning1 1burning

  Of the bodies, and the great honour

  That Theseus the noble conqueror

  Did to the ladies, when they from him went:

  But shortly for to tell is mine intent.

  When that this worthy Duke, this Theseus,

  Had Creon slain, and wonnen Thebes thus,

  Still in the field he took all night his rest,

  And did with all the country as him lest1. 1pleased

  To ransack in the tas1 of bodies dead, 1heap

  Them for to strip of 1harness and of 2weed, 1armour 2clothes

  The pillers1 did their business and cure, 1pillagers

  After the battle and discomfiture.

  And so befell, that in the tas they found,

  Through girt with many a grievous bloody wound,

  Two younge knightes 1ligging by and by1 1lying side by side1

  Both in 1one armes1, wrought full richely: 1the same armour1

  Of whiche two, Arcita hight that one,

  And he that other highte Palamon.

  Not fully quick1, nor fully dead they were, 1alive

  But by their coat-armour, and by their gear,

  The heralds knew them well in special,

  As those that weren of the blood royal

  Of Thebes, and 1of sistren two y-born1. 1born of two sisters1

  Out of the tas the pillers have them torn,

  And have them carried soft unto the tent

  Of Theseus, and he full soon them sent

  To Athens, for to dwellen in prison

  Perpetually, he 1n’olde no ranson1. 1would take no ransom1

  And when this worthy Duke had thus y-done,

  He took his host, and home he rit anon

  With laurel crowned as a conquerour;

  And there he lived in joy and in honour

  Term of his life; what needeth wordes mo’?

  And in a tower, in anguish and in woe,

  Dwellen this Palamon, and eke Arcite,

  For evermore, there may no gold them quite1 1set free

  Thus passed year by year, and day by day,

  Till it fell ones in a morn of May

  That Emily, that fairer was to seen

  Than is the lily upon his stalke green,

  And fresher than the May with flowers new

  (For with the rose colour strove her hue;

  I n’ot1 which was the finer of them two), 1know not

  Ere it was day, as she was wont to do,

  She was arisen, and all ready dight1, 1dressed

  For May will have no sluggardy a-night;

  The season pricketh every gentle heart,

  And maketh him out of his sleep to start,

  And saith, “Arise, and do thine observance.”

  This maketh Emily have remembrance

  To do honour to May, and for to rise.

  Y-clothed was she fresh for to devise;

  Her yellow hair was braided in a tress,

  Behind her back, a yarde long I guess.

  And in the garden at 1the sun uprist1 1sunrise

  She walketh up and down where as her list.

  She gathereth flowers, party1 white and red, 1mingled

  To make a sotel1 garland for her head, 1subtle, well-arranged

  And as an angel heavenly she sung.

  The greate tower, that was so thick and strong,

  Which of the castle was the chief dungeon

  (Where as these knightes weren in prison,

  Of which I tolde you, and telle shall),

  Was even joinant1 to the garden wall, 1adjoining

  There as this Emily had her playing.

  Bright was the sun, and clear that morrowning,

  And Palamon, this woful prisoner,

  As was his wont, by leave of his gaoler,

  Was ris’n, and roamed in a chamber on high,

  In which he all the noble city sigh1, 1saw

  And eke the garden, full of branches green,

  There as this fresh Emelia the sheen

  Was in her walk, and roamed up and down.

  This sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon

  Went in his chamber roaming to and fro,

  And to himself complaining of his woe:

  That he was born, full oft he said, Alas!

  And so befell, by aventure or cas1, 1chance

  That through a window thick of many a bar

  Of iron great, and square as any spar,

  He cast his eyes upon Emelia,

  And therewithal he blent1 and cried, Ah! 1started aside

  As though he stungen were unto the heart.

  And with that cry Arcite anon up start,

  And saide, “Cousin mine, what aileth thee,

  That art so pale and deadly for to see?

  Why cried’st thou? who hath thee done offence?

  For Godde’s love, take all in patience

  Our prison1, for it may none other be. 1imprisonment

  Fortune hath giv’n us this adversity’.

  Some wick’1 aspect or disposition 1wicked

  Of Saturn, by some constellation,

  Hath giv’n us this, although we had it sworn,

  So stood the heaven when that we were born,

  We must endure; this is the short and plain.

  This Palamon answer’d, and said again:

  “Cousin, forsooth of this opinion

  Thou hast a vain imagination.

  This prison caused me not for to cry;

  But I was hurt right now thorough mine eye

  Into mine heart; that will my bane1 be. 1destruction

  The fairness of the lady that I seer />
  Yond in the garden roaming to and fro,

  Is cause of all my crying and my woe.

  I 1n’ot wher1 she be woman or goddess, 1know not whether1

  But Venus is it, soothly1 as I guess, 1truly

  And therewithal on knees adown he fill,

  And saide: “Venus, if it be your will

  You in this garden thus to transfigure

  Before me sorrowful wretched creature,

  Out of this prison help that we may scape.

  And if so be our destiny be shape

  By etern word to dien in prison,

  Of our lineage have some compassion,

  That is so low y-brought by tyranny.”

  And with that word Arcita 1gan espy1 1began to look forth1

  Where as this lady roamed to and fro

  And with that sight her beauty hurt him so,

  That if that Palamon was wounded sore,

  Arcite is hurt as much as he, or more.

  And with a sigh he saide piteously:

  “The freshe beauty slay’th me suddenly

  Of her that roameth yonder in the place.

  And but1 I have her mercy and her grace, 1unless

  That I may see her at the leaste way,

  I am but dead; there is no more to say.”

  This Palamon, when he these wordes heard,

  Dispiteously1 he looked, and answer’d: 1angrily

  “Whether say’st thou this in earnest or in play?”

  “Nay,” quoth Arcite, “in earnest, by my fay1. 1faith

  God help me so, 1me lust full ill to play1.” 1I am in no humour

  This Palamon gan knit his browes tway. for jesting1

  “It were,” quoth he, “to thee no great honour

  For to be false, nor for to be traitour

  To me, that am thy cousin and thy brother

  Y-sworn full deep, and each of us to other,

  That never for to dien in the pain ,

  Till that the death departen shall us twain,

  Neither of us in love to hinder other,

  Nor in none other case, my leve1 brother; 1dear

  But that thou shouldest truly farther me

  In every case, as I should farther thee.

  This was thine oath, and mine also certain;

  I wot it well, thou dar’st it not withsayn1, 1deny

  Thus art thou of my counsel out of doubt,

  And now thou wouldest falsely be about

  To love my lady, whom I love and serve,

  And ever shall, until mine hearte sterve1 1die

  Now certes, false Arcite, thou shalt not so

  I lov’d her first, and tolde thee my woe

  As to my counsel, and my brother sworn

  To farther me, as I have told beforn.

  For which thou art y-bounden as a knight

  To helpe me, if it lie in thy might,

  Or elles art thou false, I dare well sayn,”

  This Arcita full proudly spake again:

  “Thou shalt,” quoth he, “be rather1 false than I, 1sooner

  And thou art false, I tell thee utterly;

  For par amour I lov’d her first ere thou.

  What wilt thou say? 1thou wist it not right now1 1even now thou

  Whether she be a woman or goddess. knowest not1

  Thine is affection of holiness,

  And mine is love, as to a creature:

  For which I tolde thee mine aventure

  As to my cousin, and my brother sworn

  I pose1, that thou loved’st her beforn: 1suppose

  Wost1 thou not well the olde clerke’s saw, 1know’st

  That who shall give a lover any law?

  Love is a greater lawe, by my pan,

  Than may be giv’n to any earthly man:

  Therefore positive law, and such decree,

  Is broke alway for love in each degree

  A man must needes love, maugre his head.

  He may not flee it, though he should be dead,

  1All be she1 maid, or widow, or else wife. 1whether she be1

  And eke it is not likely all thy life

  To standen in her grace, no more than I

  For well thou wost thyselfe verily,

  That thou and I be damned to prison

  Perpetual, us gaineth no ranson.

  We strive, as did the houndes for the bone;

  They fought all day, and yet their part was none.

  There came a kite, while that they were so wroth,

  And bare away the bone betwixt them both.

  And therefore at the kinge’s court, my brother,

  Each man for himselfe, there is no other.

  Love if thee list; for I love and aye shall

  And soothly, leve brother, this is all.

  Here in this prison musten we endure,

  And each of us take his Aventure.”

  Great was the strife and long between these tway,

  If that I hadde leisure for to say;

  But to the effect: it happen’d on a day

  (To tell it you as shortly as I may),

  A worthy duke that hight Perithous

  That fellow was to the Duke Theseus

  Since thilke1 day that they were children lite2 1that 2little

  Was come to Athens, his fellow to visite,

  And for to play, as he was wont to do;

  For in this world he loved no man so;

  And he lov’d him as tenderly again.

  So well they lov’d, as olde bookes sayn,

  That when that one was dead, soothly to sayn,

  His fellow went and sought him down in hell:

  But of that story list me not to write.

  Duke Perithous loved well Arcite,

  And had him known at Thebes year by year:

  And finally at request and prayere

  Of Perithous, withoute ranson

  Duke Theseus him let out of prison,

  Freely to go, where him list over all,

  In such a guise, as I you tellen shall

  This was the forword1, plainly to indite, 1promise

  Betwixte Theseus and him Arcite:

  That if so were, that Arcite were y-found

  Ever in his life, by day or night, one stound1 1moment

  In any country of this Theseus,

  And he were caught, it was accorded thus,

  That with a sword he shoulde lose his head;

  There was none other remedy nor rede1. 1counsel

  But took his leave, and homeward he him sped;

  Let him beware, his necke lieth 1to wed1. 1in pledge1

  How great a sorrow suff’reth now Arcite!

  The death he feeleth through his hearte smite;

  He weepeth, waileth, crieth piteously;

  To slay himself he waiteth privily.

  He said; “Alas the day that I was born!

  Now is my prison worse than beforn:

  1Now is me shape1 eternally to dwell 1it is fixed for me1

  Not in purgatory, but right in hell.

  Alas! that ever I knew Perithous.

  For elles had I dwelt with Theseus

  Y-fettered in his prison evermo’.

  Then had I been in bliss, and not in woe.

  Only the sight of her, whom that I serve,

  Though that I never may her grace deserve,

  Would have sufficed right enough for me.

  O deare cousin Palamon,” quoth he,

  “Thine is the vict’ry of this aventure,

  Full blissfully in prison to endure:

  In prison? nay certes, in paradise.

  Well hath fortune y-turned thee the dice,

  That hast the sight of her, and I th’ absence.

  For possible is, since thou hast her presence,

  And art a knight, a worthy and an able,

  That by some cas1, since fortune is changeable, 1chance

  Thou may’st to thy desire sometime attain.

  But I that am exiled, and barren
/>   Of alle grace, and in so great despair,

  That there n’is earthe, water, fire, nor air,

  Nor creature, that of them maked is,

  That may me helpe nor comfort in this,

  Well ought I 1sterve in wanhope1 and distress. 1die in despair1

  Farewell my life, my lust1, and my gladness. 1pleasure

  Alas, 1why plainen men so in commune 1why do men so often complain

  Of purveyance of God1, or of Fortune, of God’s providence?1

  That giveth them full oft in many a guise

  Well better than they can themselves devise?

  Some man desireth for to have richess,

  That cause is of his murder or great sickness.

  And some man would out of his prison fain,

  That in his house is of his meinie1 slain. 1servants

  Infinite harmes be in this mattere.

  We wot never what thing we pray for here.

  We fare as he that drunk is as a mouse.

  A drunken man wot well he hath an house,

  But he wot not which is the right way thither,

  And to a drunken man the way is slither1. 1slippery

  And certes in this world so fare we.

  We seeke fast after felicity,

  But we go wrong full often truely.

  Thus we may sayen all, and namely1 I, 1especially

  That ween’d1, and had a great opinion, 1thought

  That if I might escape from prison

  Then had I been in joy and perfect heal,

  Where now I am exiled from my weal.

  Since that I may not see you, Emily,

  I am but dead; there is no remedy.”

  Upon that other side, Palamon,

  When that he wist Arcita was agone,

  Much sorrow maketh, that the greate tower

  Resounded of his yelling and clamour

  The pure1 fetters on his shinnes great 1very

  Were of his bitter salte teares wet.

  “Alas!” quoth he, “Arcita, cousin mine,

  Of all our strife, God wot, the fruit is thine.

  Thou walkest now in Thebes at thy large,

  And of my woe thou 1givest little charge1. 1takest little heed1

  Thou mayst, since thou hast wisdom and manhead1, 1manhood, courage

  Assemble all the folk of our kindred,

  And make a war so sharp on this country

  That by some aventure, or some treaty,

  Thou mayst have her to lady and to wife,

  For whom that I must needes lose my life.

  For as by way of possibility,

  Since thou art at thy large, of prison free,

  And art a lord, great is thine avantage,

  More than is mine, that sterve here in a cage.

  For I must weep and wail, while that I live,

  With all the woe that prison may me give,

  And eke with pain that love me gives also,

  That doubles all my torment and my woe.”