Of light, where Love my every joy of sense
Hath placed, — my only hope, — I thee implore,
As one who loves thee than himself much more, —
With perfect love, — guide thou my hand aright,
Direct my mind in what my soul hath come to write.
5
In my sad heart thou art so effigied
Thou hast become more potent there than I.
O bring my voice then from my heart, I plead,
So sad it shall through sorrow’s tones descry
My own deep grief in Troil’s woes, and start
Whoever hears to pity of my need.
And if men listen, be the honour thine,
The praise thy words shall win — the labour be but mine!
6
And ye, O lovers, now I pray attend
The tale my tear-brimmed cantos would rehearse;
And, if perchance in your hearts doth extend
A spirit rising piteous to my verse,
I pray you pray that Amor succour lend
To me, like Troil, neath a heavy curse
Of grief, in that I live afar from her
Who would in every mind sweet joy and pleasaunce stir.
7
The kings of Greece besieged in full array
The ample walls of Troy, and all in pride
Of armour blazoned rich abode the fray,
Ardent and eager-proud (as each descried
The power Greece acquired from day to day).
They showed themselves in one great wish allied —
T’ avenge the insult and the bold rapine
By Paris done, of Helen, Menelaus’ queen.
8
When Calchas (that famed seer whose science high
Had merited full oft Apollo’s trust
And won him sager knowledge from the sky)
With will to learn inquired which party must
Expect to win at last, — if victory
To Trojans’ suffering long or Grecians’ lust
In battle, meed should be; and, waiting, heard
The war assured Troy’s doom, a bitter cruel word!
9
And, knowing now her hosts would all be slain
And Troy ere long destroyed, the cunning seer
Resolved on sudden flight, and, counsel ta’en
Duly of time and place, rode slyly near
The Grecian lines; and there upon the plain
Full many Greeks, on seeing him appear,
Arose to welcome him with faces bright, —
Hoping his wit might help, should theirs come evil plight.
10
Great was the uproar in the Trojan town
When Rumour on her eager wings had sped
The news abroad: “Our wary prophet’s frown
No more can warn us now, for he is fled, —
A traitor proved and to the Greeks gone down!”
Then, by his crime inflamed and fury-led,
The crowd was scarce restrained from vengeance dire, —
And feeling flared up quick to set his house on fire.
11
Calchas in that ill hour’s evil case,
All uninformed of his intended flight,
Had left behind in that quick-hostile place
An only widowed daughter, fair as light, —
No mortal thing but one of angel’s grace
She seemed, and Criseis named, to human sight
The loveliest of all Troy’s womanhood,
Dainty and lissome, wise, most chastely true and good.
12
Who, learning soon all dolorous the cause
Of that rude outcry, — Calchas’ treachery,
For all that furious hubbub made no pause
But rose, donned mourning habit tearfully, —
Like one who tow’rd an altar suppliant draws,
And, seeking Hector, fell to bended knee
Bemoaning Calchas’ guilt with piteous face —
The while she guiltless begged the prince might lend her grace.
13
Great Hector was by nature pitiful,
And, hearing there that lady’s weeping plaint
(Fairer than ladies fair by every rule
She was), with measured speech and sweet restraint,
Bade Criseis comfort take: “Thy father, fool
In evil erring, be dismissed and faint
Amid the Greeks!” quoth he, “But in security
Dwell thou, fair lady, here as long as pleaseth thee.
14
“Such favours as thou wilt and honours, too,
As if Sage Calchas still were here, receive
For certain now; we grant them as thy due
In every future need. Cease hence to grieve!
But him may God with condign shame pursue!”
And more to press her thanks, ere taking leave,
He suffered Criseis not; whereat she rose
And sought her mansion out and there more safe repose.
15
Such household there as fitted her estate,
And to her honour, Criseis maintained
The while she dwelt in Troy without debate,
Modest in custom and in life unstained,
Marvel of chasteness in her widow’s state,
Sans any child to be in ‘haviour trained
She was as free as maid still unpossessed —
By all who knew her loved and by all richly blest.
16
So things progressed (as in war usually)
Twixt Greeks and Trojans ever much the same;
Ofttimes the Trojans came out valiantly,
And, driving back the Greeks, earned praise and fame;
Ofttimes the Greeks, — unless much history
Doth err, — went at their foes with lusty game
Up to their very moat, — and e’en inside
They robbed, burned hall and villa, plundered far and wide.
17
And still the Trojans, hard as they were pressed
By the high daring of their Grecian foes,
Failed never once their reverence to attest
In holy rites; but evermore they chose
To keep their customs, and, as suppliants dressed,
Crowded good Pallas’ temple; where arose
Many a solemn anthem in high praise,
Many a Trojan’s vow, his prayer, his reverent gaze!
18
For now fair spring had come, whose potent sway
Reclothes the meads with flowers and grasses new,
When every beast becomes both blithe and gay,
And brings by divers acts his loves to view;
When Trojan sires had bid such honours pay
To the divine Palladium as were due.
Ladies and knights joined that festivity
In equal manner, — coming all most willingly.
19
Mongst others Calchas’ daughter Criseis moved,
Apparelled chastely in her russet weeds,
Wherein, just as the rose hath ever proved
Still fairer than the violet (which leads
In beauty other flowers), that lady loved,
Surpassed the fairest in her modest deeds
And, by her presence near the temple door,
Made goodlier yet that great fête’s rich and goodly store.
20
When mid the throng, as youths are wont to do,
Peering about the temple here and there,
Prince Troilo approached with other few,
And stopped and stood Troy’s ladies to compare:
“This one,” he gan, “was fair, that one a shrew!”
So praised or blamed, — like one who did not care,
Like one to whom no maid could give delight
Or youth who’d keep him free in every maid’s despite.
21
In such a mood of scorn pro
ceeding free,
If he beheld a youth with languorous sigh
Gazing upon a lady fixedly,
The prince would to his comrades jesting cry:
“Lo there a wretch who to his liberty
Would set a bound, — it vexes him so nigh, —
And in you damsel’s hand would bind it fain;
Mark ye his thoughts, how idle-fond they are and vain
22
“What is’t in womankind faith to repose?
Whose heart turns in one day a thousand ways,
Like to a leaf if breeze upon it blows?
Nor doth a lover’s care within her raise
One pang of grief; nor is there one who knows
What silly whim shall next command her praise.
O happy is the man who’s never ta’en
With idle love for her — who’s brave yet to abstain!
23
“From mine own folly I have knowledge gained,
Who suffered his curst flames in me to burn;
So, said I now Love ne’er with me maintained
A gracious mien but rather did me spurn,
Giving me naught, my words were false and feigned;
Yet Love’s gifts, gathered, prove a poor return, —
His cheer affords no boon of certain joy
Compared with lovers’ woes and lovers’ sad annoy!
24
“That I am free my thanks I him accord
Whose mercy proved far higher than my own,
Almighty Jove, true deity and lord
Of every grace to me, — who not o’erthrown
By Love must live, but, glad to see adored
Fair maids by other youths, may move alone
Steering an easy course, and laugh to scorn
All such pale, troubled lovers with their moods forlorn!”
25
O blindness of man’s dull and earthly mind!
Too oft the end will man’s forethought belie
And bring effect of far contrary kind!
Satiric Troilo would fain decry
Their silly faults whom love doth anxious bind,
Nor dreams that Heav’n doth even now espy
Some means to break his pride — that Love’s sharp darts
Will pierce him ere he from that festive temple parts.
26
Pursuing then Love’s followers to deride,
This one or that, — the while his idle gaze
Reviewed the damsels there on every side,
Perchance his wandering eye, with great amaze,
Mid ladies fair hath Criseis espied
Traversing daintily those throngéd ways,
Her garb still russet neath a veil milkwhite, —
In that so solemn festival a pleasing sight!
27
This Criseis was tall — of stately height
Whereto her members were proportioned well;
A beauty born of fair celestial might
Adorned her winsome face, sans parallel.
Yea, for her features shone serenely bright
With womanly noblesse, when — subtly — fell,
Touched by her arm, her mantle from her face,
As ‘twere to awe the crowd that swarmed about the place!
28
Which graceful gesture pleased young Troilo,
So in the movement showed her dainty pride, —
As if she said: “May not a wight stand so?” —
And mute he gazed upon her face and stride,
Which, as he looked, did ever fairer grow, —
More worthy praise, — and now first he espied
How sweet it is to gaze, in joy and grace,
From soul to soul, — on lucent eyes and heavenly face.
29
And he no jot perceived, who’d been so shrewd
Before to censure love in other men,
That Amor, dwelling in the ray unviewed
Of her bright eyes, aimed true his dart just then;
Nor did that weapon, deep with love imbrued,
Of his late taunts remind him once again
What time he scorned Love’s languorous retinue,
For still of Love’s sweet sting the prince but little knew.
30
Beneath her mantle’s folds so pleasingly
And peerless, too, the face of Criseis shone
That Troil gazed thereon in ecstasy,
Held by a cause he could not name, if known;
Only he knew a high will now to see —
To be less far — to keep his thoughts his own —
To love and win! When Pallas’ rites were past
He stood there still — hardly his comrades stirred him at the last.
31
Not as he entered there so free and gay,
The prince made exit from the temple now,
But pensive, all enamoured, — went his way, —
Beyond his own belief, with solemn vow
To keep well hid his new desire, and say
No word, nor that, his recent prate, allow
Henceforth expressed, lest on himself be turned
The ridicule his ardour would have meetly earned.
32
When from that spacious temple now had moved
This Criseis, too, then changéd Troilo
Joined his companions and the hours improved
By making with them blithe and merry show,
And tarried long — and that, his wound beloved,
Better to hide, kept all his jests aglow
O’er men that love, saying how differently
His own heart fared; and bade all go and be as free.
33
At length, his comrades separating all,
The prince sought out alone his chamber-room,
And there to sighing let his fancy fall,
Stretched on his bed, and now would fain resume
The pleasure of his morning, fain recall
The charming aspect of sweet Criseis’ bloom,
Counting the beauties of her lovely face,
Commending this or that part for its charm and grace.
34
He praised her conduct and her stately size,
Saying she showed her heart’s munificence
Both in her mien and gait; what high emprise
To win a lady of such excellence,
And have her love! O matchless, matchless prize,
If to his wooing in pure innocence
She could consent, could love as he loved now,
And, smiling on her servant, accept her servant’s vow!
35
He told himself no labour and no sigh
Expended in her service could be lost,
Thought his desire would win applause most high
If told to friends who chanced him to accost,
Reasoned his fellows would not now decry
His love, knowing the pain wherein he tossed;
Then gladly argued he could hold his peace,
Unwitting how soon cheer and joyaunce cease.
36
Disposed to follow, then, such fair fortune,
To act in everything discreet he planned,
With thought to hide his ardour as a boon
Too rich for common use by vulgar hand, —
A thing conceived in amorous mind and tune, —
From every friend, from every servant bland,
Unless some need compel; for love, in truth,
To many known brings joy with much commingled ruth.
37
Such thoughts and others now he entertained,
How to disclose his love and how attract
The favour of sweet Criseis, undisdained, —
And, after this, conformed his every act
To songs of hope and passion unrestrained;
To love one lady only is his pact,
Holding at naught all ladies seen before, —
&nb
sp; However they had pleased, they could not please him more.
38
And such a time to Love he turned his praise
With piteous speech: “Fair Lord, thou dost possess
The soul I claimed as mine in other days;
But that thou ownst it now, I would confess,
Doth please me well; yet, in my strange amaze,
I know not if my heart is given less
Goddess or dame to serve, so fair the may
I saw in milkwhite veil and russet dress today!
39
“In her bright eyes thou hast thy dwelling place
O verily my Lord, and it is meet
Thou have it there; and therefore of thy grace
I pray thee, Love, to hold my service sweet —
Make it more thine, and on thy servant’s case
Look thou in pity, for prostrate at thy feet.
My heart now lies, where thy darts struck it low,
When out of Criseis’ eyes they shot in one swift blow.
40
“My royal blood thy flames in no way spare;
Nor yet the strength and courage of my mind;
Nor for my hardihood aught do they care, —
For Troilo’s sturdy frame with valour lined;
They burn unchecked, like fire beyond compare
Kindled mid matter dry and unconfined;
And so they spread within this lover new
That all his members they with love and heat endue.
41
Thenceforth, from day to day, with fervent thought
And pleasure thence derived, the prince prepared
More dry and amorous fuel, fancy fraught
Within his lofty heart, and even dared
Imagine, too, from Criseis’ eyes was caught
A balm to cool the flame therein that flared;
So secret, then, to see them oft he tried,
And how much more that fanned the flame he ne’er descried.
42
And now, — where’er his sojourn he might make,
Where’er he went or sat, by day or night,
Attended or alone for musing’s sake, —
Eating or drinking, — still the lovely sight
Of Criseis’ eyes his every thought would take;
And e’er their beauty’s worth he would recite,
Declaring her fair face would Helen’s shame
And, certain, far surpass Polyxena’s in fame.
43
No single hour of the day now passed,
Wherein he did not cry: “O gracious light
(And this a thousand times) which lately hast
Shone in my heart by Cupid’s grace and might,
O Criseis fair, the wonder unsurpassed
Of thy sweet face, which keeps me pale and white,
Convert, somehow to pity; let it be
My joy, my aid that springs alone — entire — from thee
44
And now his every erstwhile dream was fled,
Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio Page 403
