Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  Therewith the fire of jealousy upstart

  Within his breast, and hent1 him by the heart 1seized

  So woodly1, that he like was to behold 1madly

  The box-tree, or the ashes dead and cold.

  Then said; “O cruel goddess, that govern

  This world with binding of your word etern1 1eternal

  And writen in the table of adamant

  Your parlement1 and your eternal grant, 1consultation

  What is mankind more 1unto you y-hold1 1by you esteemed

  Than is the sheep, that rouketh1 in the fold! 1lie huddled together

  For slain is man, right as another beast;

  And dwelleth eke in prison and arrest,

  And hath sickness, and great adversity,

  And oftentimes guilteless, pardie1 1by God

  What governance is in your prescience,

  That guilteless tormenteth innocence?

  And yet increaseth this all my penance,

  That man is bounden to his observance

  For Godde’s sake to 1letten of his will1, 1restrain his desire1

  Whereas a beast may all his lust fulfil.

  And when a beast is dead, he hath no pain;

  But man after his death must weep and plain,

  Though in this worlde he have care and woe:

  Withoute doubt it maye standen so.

  “The answer of this leave I to divines,

  But well I wot, that in this world great pine1 is; 1pain, trouble

  Alas! I see a serpent or a thief

  That many a true man hath done mischief,

  Go at his large, and where him list may turn.

  But I must be in prison through Saturn,

  And eke through Juno, jealous and eke wood1, 1mad

  That hath well nigh destroyed all the blood

  Of Thebes, with his waste walles wide.

  And Venus slay’th me on that other side

  For jealousy, and fear of him, Arcite.”

  Now will I stent1 of Palamon a lite2, 1pause 2little

  And let him in his prison stille dwell,

  And of Arcita forth I will you tell.

  The summer passeth, and the nightes long

  Increase double-wise the paines strong

  Both of the lover and the prisonere.

  I n’ot1 which hath the wofuller mistere2. 1know not 2condition

  For, shortly for to say, this Palamon

  Perpetually is damned to prison,

  In chaines and in fetters to be dead;

  And Arcite is exiled 1on his head1 1on peril of his head1

  For evermore as out of that country,

  Nor never more he shall his lady see.

  You lovers ask I now this question,

  Who lieth the worse, Arcite or Palamon?

  The one may see his lady day by day,

  But in prison he dwelle must alway.

  The other where him list may ride or go,

  But see his lady shall he never mo’.

  Now deem all as you liste, ye that can,

  For I will tell you forth as I began.

  When that Arcite to Thebes comen was,

  Full oft a day he swelt1, and said, “Alas!” 1fainted

  For see this lady he shall never mo’.

  And shortly to concluden all his woe,

  So much sorrow had never creature

  That is or shall be while the world may dure.

  His sleep, his meat, his drink is 1him byraft1, 1taken away from him1

  That lean he wex1, and dry as any shaft. 1became

  His eyen hollow, grisly to behold,

  His hue sallow, and pale as ashes cold,

  And solitary he was, ever alone,

  And wailing all the night, making his moan.

  And if he hearde song or instrument,

  Then would he weepen, he might not be stent1. 1stopped

  So feeble were his spirits, and so low,

  And changed so, that no man coulde know

  His speech, neither his voice, though men it heard.

  And in his gear1 for all the world he far’d 1behaviour

  Not only like the lovers’ malady

  Of Eros, but rather y-like manie1 1madness

  Engender’d of humours melancholic,

  Before his head in his cell fantastic.

  And shortly turned was all upside down,

  Both habit and eke dispositioun,

  Of him, this woful lover Dan1 Arcite. 1Lord

  Why should I all day of his woe indite?

  When he endured had a year or two

  This cruel torment, and this pain and woe,

  At Thebes, in his country, as I said,

  Upon a night in sleep as he him laid,

  Him thought how that the winged god Mercury

  Before him stood, and bade him to be merry.

  His sleepy yard1 in hand he bare upright; 1rod

  A hat he wore upon his haires bright.

  Arrayed was this god (as he took keep1) 1notice

  As he was when that Argus took his sleep;

  And said him thus: “To Athens shalt thou wend1; 1go

  There is thee shapen1 of thy woe an end.” 1fixed, prepared

  And with that word Arcite woke and start.

  “Now truely how sore that e’er me smart,”

  Quoth he, “to Athens right now will I fare.

  Nor for no dread of death shall I not spare

  To see my lady that I love and serve;

  In her presence 1I recke not to sterve.1” 1do not care if I die1

  And with that word he caught a great mirror,

  And saw that changed was all his colour,

  And saw his visage all in other kind.

  And right anon it ran him ill his mind,

  That since his face was so disfigur’d

  Of malady the which he had endur’d,

  He mighte well, if that he 1bare him low,1 1lived in lowly fashion1

  Live in Athenes evermore unknow,

  And see his lady wellnigh day by day.

  And right anon he changed his array,

  And clad him as a poore labourer.

  And all alone, save only a squier,

  That knew his privity1 and all his cas2, 1secrets 2fortune

  Which was disguised poorly as he was,

  To Athens is he gone the nexte1 way. 1nearest

  And to the court he went upon a day,

  And at the gate he proffer’d his service,

  To drudge and draw, what so men would devise1. 1order

  And, shortly of this matter for to sayn,

  He fell in office with a chamberlain,

  The which that dwelling was with Emily.

  For he was wise, and coulde soon espy

  Of every servant which that served her.

  Well could he hewe wood, and water bear,

  For he was young and mighty for the nones1, 1occasion

  And thereto he was strong and big of bones

  To do that any wight can him devise.

  A year or two he was in this service,

  Page of the chamber of Emily the bright;

  And Philostrate he saide that he hight.

  But half so well belov’d a man as he

  Ne was there never in court of his degree.

  He was so gentle of conditioun,

  That throughout all the court was his renown.

  They saide that it were a charity

  That Theseus would 1enhance his degree1, 1elevate him in rank1

  And put him in some worshipful service,

  There as he might his virtue exercise.

  And thus within a while his name sprung

  Both of his deedes, and of his good tongue,

  That Theseus hath taken him so near,

  That of his chamber he hath made him squire,

  And gave him gold to maintain his degree;

  And eke men brought him out of his country

  From year to year full privily his rent.


  But honestly and slyly1 he it spent, 1discreetly, prudently

  That no man wonder’d how that he it had.

  And three year in this wise his life be lad1, 1led

  And bare him so in peace and eke in werre1, 1war

  There was no man that Theseus had so derre1. 1dear

  And in this blisse leave I now Arcite,

  And speak I will of Palamon a lite1. 1little

  In darkness horrible, and strong prison,

  This seven year hath sitten Palamon,

  Forpined1, what for love, and for distress. 1pined, wasted away

  Who feeleth double sorrow and heaviness

  But Palamon? that love distraineth1 so, 1afflicts

  That wood1 out of his wits he went for woe, 1mad

  And eke thereto he is a prisonere

  Perpetual, not only for a year.

  Who coulde rhyme in English properly

  His martyrdom? forsooth1, it is not I; 1truly

  Therefore I pass as lightly as I may.

  It fell that in the seventh year, in May

  The thirde night (as olde bookes sayn,

  That all this story tellen more plain),

  Were it by a venture or destiny

  (As when a thing is shapen1 it shall be), 1settled, decreed

  That soon after the midnight, Palamon

  By helping of a friend brake his prison,

  And fled the city fast as he might go,

  For he had given drink his gaoler so

  Of a clary , made of a certain wine,

  With 1narcotise and opie1 of Thebes fine, 1narcotics and opium1

  That all the night, though that men would him shake,

  The gaoler slept, he mighte not awake:

  And thus he fled as fast as ever he may.

  The night was short, and 1faste by the day 1close at hand was

  That needes cast he must himself to hide1. the day during which

  And to a grove faste there beside he must cast about, or contrive,

  With dreadful foot then stalked Palamon. to conceal himself.1

  For shortly this was his opinion,

  That in the grove he would him hide all day,

  And in the night then would he take his way

  To Thebes-ward, his friendes for to pray

  On Theseus to help him to warray1. 1make war

  And shortly either he would lose his life,

  Or winnen Emily unto his wife.

  This is th’ effect, and his intention plain.

  Now will I turn to Arcita again,

  That little wist how nighe was his care,

  Till that Fortune had brought him in the snare.

  The busy lark, the messenger of day,

  Saluteth in her song the morning gray;

  And fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright,

  That all the orient laugheth at the sight,

  And with his streames1 drieth in the greves2 1rays 2groves

  The silver droppes, hanging on the leaves;

  And Arcite, that is in the court royal

  With Theseus, his squier principal,

  Is ris’n, and looketh on the merry day.

  And for to do his observance to May,

  Remembering the point1 of his desire, 1object

  He on his courser, starting as the fire,

  Is ridden to the fieldes him to play,

  Out of the court, were it a mile or tway.

  And to the grove, of which I have you told,

  By a venture his way began to hold,

  To make him a garland of the greves1, 1groves

  Were it of woodbine, or of hawthorn leaves,

  And loud he sang against the sun so sheen1. 1shining bright

  “O May, with all thy flowers and thy green,

  Right welcome be thou, faire freshe May,

  I hope that I some green here getten may.”

  And from his courser1, with a lusty heart, 1horse

  Into the grove full hastily he start,

  And in a path he roamed up and down,

  There as by aventure this Palamon

  Was in a bush, that no man might him see,

  For sore afeard of his death was he.

  Nothing ne knew he that it was Arcite;

  God wot he would have 1trowed it full lite1. 1full little believed it1

  But sooth is said, gone since full many years,

  The field hath eyen1, and the wood hath ears, 1eyes

  It is full fair a man 1to bear him even1, 1to be on his guard1

  For all day meeten men at 1unset steven1. 1unexpected time

  Full little wot Arcite of his fellaw,

  That was so nigh to hearken of his saw1, 1saying, speech

  For in the bush he sitteth now full still.

  When that Arcite had roamed all his fill,

  And 1sungen all the roundel1 lustily, 1sang the roundelay1

  Into a study he fell suddenly,

  As do those lovers in their 1quainte gears1, 1odd fashions1

  Now in the crop1, and now down in the breres2, 1tree-top

  Now up, now down, as bucket in a well. 2briars

  Right as the Friday, soothly for to tell,

  Now shineth it, and now it raineth fast,

  Right so can geary1 Venus overcast 1changeful

  The heartes of her folk, right as her day

  Is gearful1, right so changeth she array. 1changeful

  Seldom is Friday all the weeke like.

  When Arcite had y-sung, he gan to sike1, 1sigh

  And sat him down withouten any more:

  “Alas!” quoth he, “the day that I was bore!

  How longe, Juno, through thy cruelty

  Wilt thou warrayen1 Thebes the city? 1torment

  Alas! y-brought is to confusion

  The blood royal of Cadm’ and Amphion:

  Of Cadmus, which that was the firste man,

  That Thebes built, or first the town began,

  And of the city first was crowned king.

  Of his lineage am I, and his offspring

  By very line, as of the stock royal;

  And now I am 1so caitiff and so thrall1, 1wretched and enslaved1

  That he that is my mortal enemy,

  I serve him as his squier poorely.

  And yet doth Juno me well more shame,

  For I dare not beknow1 mine owen name, 1acknowledge

  But there as I was wont to hight Arcite,

  Now hight I Philostrate, not worth a mite.

  Alas! thou fell Mars, and alas! Juno,

  Thus hath your ire our lineage all fordo1 1undone, ruined

  Save only me, and wretched Palamon,

  That Theseus martyreth in prison.

  And over all this, to slay me utterly,

  Love hath his fiery dart so brenningly1 1burningly

  Y-sticked through my true careful heart,

  That shapen was my death erst than my shert.

  Ye slay me with your eyen, Emily;

  Ye be the cause wherefore that I die.

  Of all the remnant of mine other care

  Ne set I not the 1mountance of a tare1, 1value of a straw1

  So that I could do aught to your pleasance.”

  And with that word he fell down in a trance

  A longe time; and afterward upstart

  This Palamon, that thought thorough his heart

  He felt a cold sword suddenly to glide:

  For ire he quoke1, no longer would he hide. 1quaked

  And when that he had heard Arcite’s tale,

  As he were wood1, with face dead and pale, 1mad

  He start him up out of the bushes thick,

  And said: “False Arcita, false traitor wick’1, 1wicked

  Now art thou hent1, that lov’st my lady so, 1caught

  For whom that I have all this pain and woe,

  And art my blood, and to my counsel sworn,

  As I full oft have told thee herebeforn,

  And hast bejaped1 here Duke Thes
eus, 1deceived, imposed upon

  And falsely changed hast thy name thus;

  I will be dead, or elles thou shalt die.

  Thou shalt not love my lady Emily,

  But I will love her only and no mo’;

  For I am Palamon thy mortal foe.

  And though I have no weapon in this place,

  But out of prison am astart1 by grace, 1escaped

  I dreade1 not that either thou shalt die, 1doubt

  Or else thou shalt not loven Emily.

  Choose which thou wilt, for thou shalt not astart.”

  This Arcite then, with full dispiteous1 heart, 1wrathful

  When he him knew, and had his tale heard,

  As fierce as lion pulled out a swerd,

  And saide thus; “By God that sitt’th above,

  1N’ere it1 that thou art sick, and wood for love, 1were it not1

  And eke that thou no weap’n hast in this place,

  Thou should’st never out of this grove pace,

  That thou ne shouldest dien of mine hand.

  For I defy the surety and the band,

  Which that thou sayest I have made to thee.

  What? very fool, think well that love is free;

  And I will love her maugre1 all thy might. 1despite

  But, for thou art a worthy gentle knight,

  And 1wilnest to darraine her by bataille1, 1will reclaim her

  Have here my troth, to-morrow I will not fail, by combat1

  Without weeting1 of any other wight, 1knowledge

  That here I will be founden as a knight,

  And bringe harness1 right enough for thee; 1armour and arms

  And choose the best, and leave the worst for me.

  And meat and drinke this night will I bring

  Enough for thee, and clothes for thy bedding.

  And if so be that thou my lady win,

  And slay me in this wood that I am in,

  Thou may’st well have thy lady as for me.”

  This Palamon answer’d, “I grant it thee.”

  And thus they be departed till the morrow,

  When each of them hath 1laid his faith to borrow1. 1pledged his faith1

  O Cupid, out of alle charity!

  O Regne1 that wilt no fellow have with thee! 1queen

  Full sooth is said, that love nor lordeship

  Will not, 1his thanks1, have any fellowship. 1thanks to him1

  Well finden that Arcite and Palamon.

  Arcite is ridd anon unto the town,

  And on the morrow, ere it were daylight,

  Full privily two harness hath he dight1, 1prepared

  Both suffisant and meete to darraine1 1contest

  The battle in the field betwixt them twain.

  And on his horse, alone as he was born,

  He carrieth all this harness him beforn;

  And in the grove, at time and place y-set,

  This Arcite and this Palamon be met.