No lover should his appetite allay
Who keeps not all his acts to one shrewd tone,
Lest any blush should come upon that dame
Whose honour he would guard from every ill and shame.
27
“Methinks no woman lives who doth not will
To live full amorously; ’tis only fear
Lest shame befall that curbs and keeps her still;
But if to cure this dread some means appear,
Some honest medicine her wish to fill,
Foolish is he who scorns her favours dear;
My cousin, though a widow, craves no less
The joy of love, whate’er denial would the truth suppress.
28
“Since then I feel thee prudent now and wise,
I ween I can please well the two of you,
Giving to each a joy that each will prize,
If but ye keep it from the public view
As if it were not; some grievous fault would rise
As mine and chide me, should I fail to do
All in my power for thee. My friend, be shrewd,
Hide safe thy acts, meantime, from vulgar eyes and rude.”
29
The words he heard made Troilo content
So mightily in mind it seemed indeed
He had already ‘scaped his whole torment;
And thereat love flamed up again with speed,
Although he waited for a time attent,
As if his fere might have still further rede.
At last he spake: “O friend, thou speakest fair
In praising her, but my eyes find her still more rare.
30
“Then say how shall my inner fury ‘bate?
My ardour high? (More high did no man see!)
The lady, when of my deep love’s estate
She hath discerned, — alack it well may be, —
Will doubtful prove or yet, more obstinate
To my despair, scorn it for fear of thee, —
And even, moved her heart so, to seem chaste
To thee, she might not listen to thy words with haste.
31
“And further, Pandar mine, my wish is now
Thou shouldst not deem it ever my desire
The lady once to villainy should bow.
Her love I wish sought but with honour’s fire,
Sans other means employed; and this I vow!
Gained so, in me ’twould sovereign grace inspire!
Seek this means then, and more I shall not pray”:
The prince blushed deep and turned his shame-struck face away.
32
To him then, laughing, Pandar quick replied:
“In this thou sayst no folly can be traced.
Let me but act; in me thy faith confide;
For in my hands are rare pow’rs firmly placed, —
Sermons to make love stir where’er they’re tried
And all my aims with gains are ever graced
Whene’er new ends I seek! This task be mine,
And in an ending sweet thy will shall be all thine!”
33
Thereat the prince leaped lightly from his bed,
Kissed and embraced full ardently his friend,
Swearing to win the war the Greek hosts led
Was no such task to him as to contend
Against that ardour which his passion fed:
“O Pandaro, my heart I recommend
To thy best aid, thou shrewd and prudent knight,
Who canst bring end to sorrow — means to love’s delight!”
34
Desirous then to serve the royal youth,
Whom much he loved, this Pandar took his leave,
Hoping some pleasure might afford him ruth,
And sought out Criseis, — him to relieve, —
Who, as she saw him come, arose in sooth
And with fair greetings did her guest receive.
First Pandar hath her fingers lightly caught
And with her then a sheltered loggia sought.
35
And there with laughter, in parleying sweet,
With merry words and all that gay converse
Which kin are wont to use, and which most meet
Those close in blood do knowingly rehearse,
Pandaro played a while, with will to treat
His cherished scheme as if’t were the reverse,
Or of but trifling worth; then, sudden, gazed
So fixed in Criseis’ face she might well grow amazed.
36
And, as she caught, thus fixed, his gaze, she smiled, —
Then cried: “Hast never seen my face before?
What subtlety hath now thy mind beguiled?
To what intent?” And Pandaro but swore:
“Thou knowst I’ve viewed thy beauty from a child,
But never hath it charmed my vision more
Than now; and Heaven thou mayest praise and thank
No fairer dame than thou appears in any rank!”
37
Whereto the lady begged: “What praise is this?
Wherefore pronounce me fairer than of yore?”
To whom he quickly answered, full of bliss:
“Because thy face would make all men adore,
None being in the world so fair, ywis!
And now, unless I am deceived the more,
It doth a well-made knight so wholly please
He boasts his love for thee e’en though from Love her flees!”
38
And Criseis thereon blushed so modestly,
Hearing the words her cousin Pandar spake,
She seemed a morning rose so fair was she;
Then from her lips such words as these did break:
“Make not thy mock of me, who joyous see
Whatever gifts to thee the kind gods make;
He must have little gear, this man I please;
Since birth, I have not charmed a wight with equal ease!”
39
“Let be thy words,” our Pandar made reply,
“Declare if of his love thou art aware.”
To whom she answered: “If I do not die,
No one man more than other hold I fair;
True ’tis from time to time I do espy
A passing knave who at my door will stare;
But whether he is looking there for me
Or of another dreams I know not certainly.”
40
In answer Pandar queried, “Who is he?”
And Criseis replied again, “In sooth
I know him not, nor can I tell to thee
More than I’ve told.” And, inward, “Of a truth,”
Pandaro reasoned, “The prince this cannot be;
Some other woos!” Then, quick to serve the youth,
He ventured more, “This man thou’st set in flame
Is known of all — and one, too, that deserves his fame.”
41
“Who can,” then Criseis quoth, “take such delight
In merely seeing me, — if I may ask?”
Whereto this Pandar with evasion slight:
“O damsel, since God wrought Creation’s task, —
Made the first man, — there breathed no truer wight
Nor held more perfect soul in human mask
Than he whom I shall name, — whose love is such
One could not say a man had ever loved so much!”
42
“He is of spirit and of lineage proud,
An honest man who holds his honour dear;
With natural wit is no man more endowed,
Nor lives in other science e’en his peer,
Valour and zeal are in his face avowed;
I cannot tell you all his virtue clear;
O happy is thy beauty, which hath stirred
A man, so made, to hold thee to all dames preferred!
43
“Well is the jewel suit
ed to the ring
If, as thou beauteous art, so provest thou wise;
If thou become his fief in anything
As he hath thine become, a star will rise
In union with the sun; no luck could bring
To fairer damoiseau in amorous ties
A fairer damoiselle! Be thou but coy!
Blessed art thou, if thou wilt consummate thy joy.
44
“One only opportunity appears
To every one who lives that he may seize;
And whoe’er lets it come and pass, in tears
That man must grieve that it so rapid flees,
Blaming himself; and now to thee it nears,
Drawn by the might of thy fair face to please.
Employ thou it, — while I, more luckless born,
Weep that God, Fate, the World allowed me only scorn!”
45
“Are these true words, or wouldst thou tempt me ill?
Or art thou from thy wits?” gasped Criseis dumb;
“What man or knight should of me have his will
Save he had first my married lord become?
Yet say “What man is this, — an alien still
Or citizen, on whom such pain hath come
For love of me? Speak, — if thou oughtest, speak,
And do not merely cry thy bootless sighs so meek.”
46
And Pandar answered: “Citizen is he,
Yet none of mean degree, — my greatest friend,
From whose full breast, perhaps through Destiny,
This secret I’ve disclosed, I late did rend;
And now he lives in plaint and misery
Such fire thy glorious face doth in him send.
Know therefore now that he that loves thee so, —
Desires thee so, — is no man less than Troilo!”
47
Some time Criseis stood in mute amaze
Her eyes on Pandaro, until she grew
Pale as a dawn’s most gray and sunless rays,
Wishing her tear-bright eyes were less in view.
Afraid her tears should flow their several ways
Or, unstemmed in their course, her cheeks endew:
Then, gaining speech, she murmured in surprise
With many a halting breath and many fearful sighs:
48
“I had believed, my cousin Pandaro,
If e’er I had so far in folly run
As redelessly to love Prince Troilo,
Thou wouldst have whipped me as a shameless one,
Thou wouldst have sworn I shamed my kindred so,
Disgraced my parents with the deed I’d done:
Now thou dost urge I follow Love’s mad way;
Could strangers urge me worser rede than that, I pray?
49
“Troil, I know, is valorous and great, —
So brave a queen should find in him content;
But since my dear lord’s death (unhappy fate!)
Always my heart has vowed with true intent
Never to love again; my widow’s state
Always must be of grief and deep lament;
My only joy is memory of him —
My only wish that memory may never dim:
50
“Yet were there living man my love might win,
Surely that man should be thy Troilo
Could I be sure he felt true joy therein,
Once it was giv’n; but, Cousin, thou must know
Such ecstasies as Troil now is in
Do commonly befall, and even so
Last but four days or six — for o’er the night
Men’s thoughts do change their love and men seek new delight.
51
“Let me continue such a life to lead
As Fate hath thought it fair to offer me;
And he will find some lady fair indeed
Whom he may love at will; for modesty
’Tis meet I save my honour for my need;
And Pandaro, let not this answer be,
For God’s sweet sake, to thee a cause of grief;
But seek thou other pleasures to yield thy prince relief!”
52
Within him Pandar felt his cousin’s scorn
The while the lady’s speech he patient heard,
Then rose as one who thought his cause forlorn, —
As if to go, paused, turned, resumed his word,
And cried: “Sweet coz, to thee in praise I’ve borne
Such honour as with joy I’d see conferred
On my own sister, daughter, even wife —
If with such pleasant kindred God had blessed my life
53
“And since I feel the prince is worth much more
Than e’er thy love could be, and yesterday
Because I saw him for it in a plight so sore,
I am myself much grieved, — alack the day!
Believe thou wilt not, nor his pain deplore:
But yet I know thy hardness would give way
If thou, like me, didst all his ardour know;
Then wouldst thou, for my sake, take pity on his woe.
54
“Discreet as he or of a faith as great,
I do not think in all the world is knight, —
Nor loyal friend as he in any state, —
And friend could not desire thee with more might!
’Tis meet thou love him, cease thy foolish prate
Of widow’s weeds, and grant thy youth its right.
Waste not thy time; remember how dull death
Or age may catch thy charms away like idle breath.”
55
“Alack,” quoth Criseis, “thou speakest true;
The years recede and youth’s frail charms decay
And, ere love’s path in full celestial hue
Hath bloomed, we pass in dusty death away;
But let me still in thought this truth review
And tell me if of love at this late day
I yet may joy and solace have — and how —
And why — thou learn’dst the love of Troilo but now?”
56
Full shrewd our Pandar smiled, then made reply:
“All will I tell since thou desirest to know;
Two days ago, when spears did quiet lie
Because a truce was made, Prince Troilo
Would find diversion in a wood nearby —
So begged I with him to the place should go;
And, straying there from me, he gan to sigh
And, presently, I heard him sing of Love and cry.
57
“I stood apart but, hearing his complaint,
Murmured full low, I moved near to attend;
And well I can his words from memory paint;
He grieved, and prayed Love should his torment end,
Crying: ‘O sov’reign Lord, my brow grows faint
So sore my sighs and passion do me rend, —
My heart is racked for her sweet beauty’s sake;
Her charms have caught me so their bonds can never break.
58
“‘Where her fair image, more than others fair,
I carry sweet portrayed, thou makest stay
And there dost see my conquered soul laid bare
And pensive made by thine effulgent ray,
Which holds it strait within and girt with care,
Begging the while it find that peace some way
Which only my fair mistress’ lucent eyes
Can ever grant to it, sweet Lord, in any wise.
59
“‘If then unwilling thou my death wouldst see,
Make known my grief, pardee, to this fair dame;
Beseech and win of her that joy for me,
Which, only, to thy subject peace can name.
Will not, my Lord, that I die instantly,
Or let my anxious soul now cease to frame
The cry it
ever makes, all night and day,
Such fear it hath because grief hath no power to slay.
60
“‘It cannot be, my Lord, thou’ldst hesitate
To light thy flame beneath her widow’s weeds?
No greater honour could thee celebrate;
Enter her breast with that desire that breeds
Such pain in mine, I pray thee, not too late;
Feel that, O pious Lord, to do so thou must needs,
So that, through thee, her sweet and languid sighs
May bear some comfort to my heart’s sad yearning cries.
61
“And these words murmured, Troil deeply sighed;
First bowed his head to say I know not what,
Then, growing silent, only wept and cried. —
Through me, who saw, at once suspicion shot
Whence flowed his tears; and I did then decide,
Should ever time fit such a harmless plot,
To laugh one day and ask what meant his song?
And what occasioned him to keep that mien so long?
62
“But time to this did first to-day agree
When, entering, I found the knight alone
Within his room e’en as I thought ’twould be;
There on his bed he lay like any stone,
Though quick he turned toward, on seeing me,
Lest I should aught suspect why he did groan;
Yet, as I nearer drew again, he wept
And grief through him once more its cruel passion swept.
63
“As best I could I sought to comfort him,
And with new art and diverse tricks of speech
I drew from him what was his trouble dim,
Giving him, ere he’d speak, my pledge in each,
That on my faith I’d tell no man his whim.
Then pity moved me to come here and teach
Thee of his love, — whom I have fully told
Of that he begs thee much not from him to withhold.
64
“And thou! what wilt thou? Be so lofty-proud
And let him go who finds himself no cure
For loving thee, to Death, the fell-endowed?
Or cruel fate or mischance else endure?
For loving thee must he die unavowed? —
If thou to him with thy fair visage pure
And lucent eyes could be in aught less dear,
Then only Couldst thou save him from the death now near.”
65
At length Criseis answered: “Unaware
His secret thou hast caught from out his breast,
The while he mused, though firm he held it there,
Until thou foundst him to his tears addressed,
Prone on his bed! May God now yield him fair!
Make me no less than him to feel I’m blest!
For, through thy speech, strange pity stirs in me,
Who am in naught so harsh as I may seem to be.”
66
Some time she paused; then, sighing deep, pursued
Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio Page 405
