Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  Then change gan the colour of their face;

  Right as the hunter in the regne1 of Thrace 1kingdom

  That standeth at a gappe with a spear

  When hunted is the lion or the bear,

  And heareth him come rushing in the greves1, 1groves

  And breaking both the boughes and the leaves,

  Thinketh, “Here comes my mortal enemy,

  Withoute fail, he must be dead or I;

  For either I must slay him at the gap;

  Or he must slay me, if that me mishap:”

  So fared they, in changing of their hue

  1As far as either of them other knew1. 1When they recognised each

  There was no good day, and no saluting, other afar off1

  But straight, withoute wordes rehearsing,

  Evereach of them holp to arm the other,

  As friendly, as he were his owen brother.

  And after that, with sharpe speares strong

  They foined1 each at other wonder long. 1thrust

  Thou mightest weene1, that this Palamon 1think

  In fighting were as a wood1 lion, 1mad

  And as a cruel tiger was Arcite:

  As wilde boars gan they together smite,

  That froth as white as foam, 1for ire wood1. 1mad with anger1

  Up to the ancle fought they in their blood.

  And in this wise I let them fighting dwell,

  And forth I will of Theseus you tell.

  The Destiny, minister general,

  That executeth in the world o’er all

  The purveyance1, that God hath seen beforn; 1foreordination

  So strong it is, that though the world had sworn

  The contrary of a thing by yea or nay,

  Yet some time it shall fallen on a day

  That falleth not eft1 in a thousand year. 1again

  For certainly our appetites here,

  Be it of war, or peace, or hate, or love,

  All is this ruled by the sight1 above. 1eye, intelligence, power

  This mean I now by mighty Theseus,

  That for to hunten is so desirous —

  And namely1 the greate hart in May — 1especially

  That in his bed there dawneth him no day

  That he n’is clad, and ready for to ride

  With hunt and horn, and houndes him beside.

  For in his hunting hath he such delight,

  That it is all his joy and appetite

  To be himself the greate harte’s bane1 1destruction

  For after Mars he serveth now Diane.

  Clear was the day, as I have told ere this,

  And Theseus, with alle joy and bliss,

  With his Hippolyta, the faire queen,

  And Emily, y-clothed all in green,

  On hunting be they ridden royally.

  And to the grove, that stood there faste by,

  In which there was an hart, as men him told,

  Duke Theseus the straighte way doth hold,

  And to the laund1 he rideth him full right, 1plain

  There was the hart y-wont to have his flight,

  And over a brook, and so forth on his way.

  This Duke will have a course at him or tway

  With houndes, such as him lust1 to command. 1pleased

  And when this Duke was come to the laund,

  Under the sun he looked, and anon

  He was ware of Arcite and Palamon,

  That foughte breme1, as it were bulles two. 1fiercely

  The brighte swordes wente to and fro

  So hideously, that with the leaste stroke

  It seemed that it woulde fell an oak,

  But what they were, nothing yet he wote1. 1knew

  This Duke his courser with his spurres smote,

  1And at a start1 he was betwixt them two, 1suddenly1

  And pulled out a sword and cried, “Ho!

  No more, on pain of losing of your head.

  By mighty Mars, he shall anon be dead

  That smiteth any stroke, that I may see!

  But tell to me what mister1 men ye be, 1manner, kind

  That be so hardy for to fighte here

  Withoute judge or other officer,

  As though it were in listes royally.

  This Palamon answered hastily,

  And saide: “Sir, what needeth wordes mo’?

  We have the death deserved bothe two,

  Two woful wretches be we, and caitives,

  That be accumbered1 of our own lives, 1burdened

  And as thou art a rightful lord and judge,

  So give us neither mercy nor refuge.

  And slay me first, for sainte charity,

  But slay my fellow eke as well as me.

  Or slay him first; for, though thou know it lite1, 1little

  This is thy mortal foe, this is Arcite

  That from thy land is banisht on his head,

  For which he hath deserved to be dead.

  For this is he that came unto thy gate

  And saide, that he highte Philostrate.

  Thus hath he japed1 thee full many year, 1deceived

  And thou hast made of him thy chief esquier;

  And this is he, that loveth Emily.

  For since the day is come that I shall die

  I make pleinly1 my confession, 1fully, unreservedly

  That I am thilke1 woful Palamon, 1that same

  That hath thy prison broken wickedly.

  I am thy mortal foe, and it am I

  That so hot loveth Emily the bright,

  That I would die here present in her sight.

  Therefore I aske death and my jewise1. 1judgement

  But slay my fellow eke in the same wise,

  For both we have deserved to be slain.”

  This worthy Duke answer’d anon again,

  And said, “This is a short conclusion.

  Your own mouth, by your own confession

  Hath damned you, and I will it record;

  It needeth not to pain you with the cord;

  Ye shall be dead, by mighty Mars the Red.

  The queen anon for very womanhead

  Began to weep, and so did Emily,

  And all the ladies in the company.

  Great pity was it as it thought them all,

  That ever such a chance should befall,

  For gentle men they were, of great estate,

  And nothing but for love was this debate

  They saw their bloody woundes wide and sore,

  And cried all at once, both less and more,

  “Have mercy, Lord, upon us women all.”

  And on their bare knees adown they fall

  And would have kissed his feet there as he stood,

  Till at the last 1aslaked was his mood1 1his anger was

  (For pity runneth soon in gentle heart); appeased1

  And though at first for ire he quoke and start

  He hath consider’d shortly in a clause

  The trespass of them both, and eke the cause:

  And although that his ire their guilt accused

  Yet in his reason he them both excused;

  As thus; he thoughte well that every man

  Will help himself in love if that he can,

  And eke deliver himself out of prison.

  Of women, for they wepten ever-in-one:1 1continually

  And eke his hearte had compassion

  And in his gentle heart he thought anon,

  And soft unto himself he saide: “Fie

  Upon a lord that will have no mercy,

  But be a lion both in word and deed,

  To them that be in repentance and dread,

  As well as-to a proud dispiteous1 man 1unpitying

  That will maintaine what he first began.

  That lord hath little of discretion,

  That in such case 1can no division1: 1can make no distinction1

  But weigheth pride and humbless 1after one1.” 1alike1

  And shortly, when h
is ire is thus agone,

  He gan to look on them with eyen light1, 1gentle, lenient1

  And spake these same wordes 1all on height.1 1aloud1

  “The god of love, ah! benedicite1, 1bless ye him

  How mighty and how great a lord is he!

  Against his might there gaine1 none obstacles, 1avail, conquer

  He may be called a god for his miracles

  For he can maken at his owen guise

  Of every heart, as that him list devise.

  Lo here this Arcite, and this Palamon,

  That quietly were out of my prison,

  And might have lived in Thebes royally,

  And weet1 I am their mortal enemy, 1knew

  And that their death li’th in my might also,

  And yet hath love, 1maugre their eyen two1, 1in spite of their eyes1

  Y-brought them hither bothe for to die.

  Now look ye, is not this an high folly?

  Who may not be a fool, if but he love?

  Behold, for Godde’s sake that sits above,

  See how they bleed! be they not well array’d?

  Thus hath their lord, the god of love, them paid

  Their wages and their fees for their service;

  And yet they weene for to be full wise,

  That serve love, for aught that may befall.

  But this is yet the beste game1 of all, 1joke

  That she, for whom they have this jealousy,

  Can them therefor as muchel thank as me.

  She wot no more of all this 1hote fare1, 1hot behaviour1

  By God, than wot a cuckoo or an hare.

  But all must be assayed hot or cold;

  A man must be a fool, or young or old;

  I wot it by myself 1full yore agone1: 1long years ago1

  For in my time a servant was I one.

  And therefore since I know of love’s pain,

  And wot how sore it can a man distrain1, 1distress

  As he that oft hath been caught in his last1, 1snare

  I you forgive wholly this trespass,

  At request of the queen that kneeleth here,

  And eke of Emily, my sister dear.

  And ye shall both anon unto me swear,

  That never more ye shall my country dere1 1injure

  Nor make war upon me night nor day,

  But be my friends in alle that ye may.

  I you forgive this trespass 1every deal1. 1completely1

  And they him sware 1his asking1 fair and well, 1what he asked1

  And him of lordship and of mercy pray’d,

  And he them granted grace, and thus he said:

  “To speak of royal lineage and richess,

  Though that she were a queen or a princess,

  Each of you both is worthy doubteless

  To wedde when time is; but natheless

  I speak as for my sister Emily,

  For whom ye have this strife and jealousy,

  Ye wot1 yourselves, she may not wed the two 1know

  At once, although ye fight for evermo:

  But one of you, 1all be him loth or lief,1 1whether or not he wishes1

  He must 1go pipe into an ivy leaf1: 1”go whistle”1

  This is to say, she may not have you both,

  All be ye never so jealous, nor so wroth.

  And therefore I you put in this degree,

  That each of you shall have his destiny

  As 1him is shape1; and hearken in what wise 1as is decreed for him1

  Lo hear your end of that I shall devise.

  My will is this, for plain conclusion

  Withouten any replication1, 1reply

  If that you liketh, take it for the best,

  That evereach of you shall go where 1him lest1, 1he pleases

  Freely without ransom or danger;

  And this day fifty weekes, 1farre ne nerre1, 1neither more nor less1

  Evereach of you shall bring an hundred knights,

  Armed for listes up at alle rights

  All ready to darraine1 her by bataille, 1contend for

  And this behete1 I you withoute fail 1promise

  Upon my troth, and as I am a knight,

  That whether of you bothe that hath might,

  That is to say, that whether he or thou

  May with his hundred, as I spake of now,

  Slay his contrary, or out of listes drive,

  Him shall I given Emily to wive,

  To whom that fortune gives so fair a grace.

  The listes shall I make here in this place.

  1And God so wisly on my soule rue1, 1may God as surely have

  As I shall even judge be and true. mercy on my soul1

  Ye shall none other ende with me maken

  Than one of you shalle be dead or taken.

  And if you thinketh this is well y-said,

  Say your advice1, and hold yourselves apaid2. 1opinion 2satisfied

  This is your end, and your conclusion.”

  Who looketh lightly now but Palamon?

  Who springeth up for joye but Arcite?

  Who could it tell, or who could it indite,

  The joye that is maked in the place

  When Theseus hath done so fair a grace?

  But down on knees went every 1manner wight1, 1kind of person1

  And thanked him with all their heartes’ might,

  And namely1 these Thebans 1ofte sithe1. 1especially 1oftentimes1

  And thus with good hope and with hearte blithe

  They take their leave, and homeward gan they ride

  To Thebes-ward, with his old walles wide.

  I trow men woulde deem it negligence,

  If I forgot to telle the dispence1 1expenditure

  Of Theseus, that went so busily

  To maken up the listes royally,

  That such a noble theatre as it was,

  I dare well say, in all this world there n’as1. 1was not

  The circuit a mile was about,

  Walled of stone, and ditched all without.

  1Round was the shape, in manner of compass,

  Full of degrees, the height of sixty pas1 1see note 1

  That when a man was set on one degree

  He letted1 not his fellow for to see. 1hindered

  Eastward there stood a gate of marble white,

  Westward right such another opposite.

  And, shortly to conclude, such a place

  Was never on earth made in so little space,

  For in the land there was no craftes-man,

  That geometry or arsmetrike1 can2, 1arithmetic 2knew

  Nor pourtrayor1, nor carver of images, 1portrait painter

  That Theseus ne gave him meat and wages

  The theatre to make and to devise.

  And for to do his rite and sacrifice

  He eastward hath upon the gate above,

  In worship of Venus, goddess of love,

  1Done make1 an altar and an oratory; 1caused to be made1

  And westward, in the mind and in memory

  Of Mars, he maked hath right such another,

  That coste largely of gold a fother1. 1a great amount

  And northward, in a turret on the wall,

  Of alabaster white and red coral

  An oratory riche for to see,

  In worship of Diane of chastity,

  Hath Theseus done work in noble wise.

  But yet had I forgotten to devise1 1describe

  The noble carving, and the portraitures,

  The shape, the countenance of the figures

  That weren in there oratories three.

  First in the temple of Venus may’st thou see

  Wrought on the wall, full piteous to behold,

  The broken sleepes, and the sikes1 cold, 1sighes

  The sacred teares, and the waimentings1, 1lamentings

  The fiery strokes of the desirings,

  That Love’s servants in this life endure;

  The oathes, that their covenants assure
.

  Pleasance and Hope, Desire, Foolhardiness,

  Beauty and Youth, and Bawdry and Richess,

  Charms and Sorc’ry, Leasings1 and Flattery, 1falsehoods

  Dispence, Business, and Jealousy,

  That wore of yellow goldes1 a garland, 1sunflowers

  And had a cuckoo sitting on her hand,

  Feasts, instruments, and caroles and dances,

  Lust and array, and all the circumstances

  Of Love, which I reckon’d and reckon shall

  In order, were painted on the wall,

  And more than I can make of mention.

  For soothly all the mount of Citheron,

  Where Venus hath her principal dwelling,

  Was showed on the wall in pourtraying,

  With all the garden, and the lustiness1. 1pleasantness

  Nor was forgot the porter Idleness,

  Nor Narcissus the fair of 1yore agone1, 1olden times1

  Nor yet the folly of King Solomon,

  Nor yet the greate strength of Hercules,

  Th’ enchantments of Medea and Circes,

  Nor of Turnus the hardy fierce courage,

  The rich Croesus 1caitif in servage.1 1abased into slavery1

  Thus may ye see, that wisdom nor richess,

  Beauty, nor sleight, nor strength, nor hardiness

  Ne may with Venus holde champartie1, 1divided possession

  For as her liste the world may she gie1. 1guide

  Lo, all these folk so caught were in her las1 1snare

  Till they for woe full often said, Alas!

  Suffice these ensamples one or two,

  Although I could reckon a thousand mo’.

  The statue of Venus, glorious to see

  Was naked floating in the large sea,

  And from the navel down all cover’d was

  With waves green, and bright as any glass.

  A citole in her right hand hadde she,

  And on her head, full seemly for to see,

  A rose garland fresh, and well smelling,

  Above her head her doves flickering

  Before her stood her sone Cupido,

  Upon his shoulders winges had he two;

  And blind he was, as it is often seen;

  A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen.

  Why should I not as well eke tell you all

  The portraiture, that was upon the wall

  Within the temple of mighty Mars the Red?

  All painted was the wall in length and brede1 1breadth

  Like to the estres1 of the grisly place 1interior chambers

  That hight the great temple of Mars in Thrace,

  In thilke1 cold and frosty region, 1that

  There as Mars hath his sovereign mansion.

  In which there dwelled neither man nor beast,

  With knotty gnarry1 barren trees old 1gnarled

  Of stubbes sharp and hideous to behold;

  In which there ran a rumble and a sough1, 1groaning noise