Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  106

  “Full many things remain for me to say,

  But lest I weary thee, I’ll keep them still;

  And to this end the fair lord Love I’ll pray,

  That, as he placed thee in my pleasure’s will,

  So in thy wishes he may find a way

  To place me too with thee, and thee so thrill

  That, as I now am thine, the time may be

  When thou becomest mine to be no more from me.”

  107

  And after all these words the prince had writ,

  Upon one page, he folded it with care,

  Then bathed his seal (in strange and languourous fit)

  Upon his tear-strewn cheeks, to seal it there;

  Then, o’er a hundred times, still kissing it,

  He gave to Pandar’s hands that letter rare,

  And did so, crying: “Letter, thou art blest,

  Destined in my fair lady’s hand soon to be pressed!”

  108

  Pandaro then the pious letter took

  And, parting, sought out Criseis’ abode;

  Who, as she saw him come, her guests forsook,

  Meeting him ere he o’er her threshold strode;

  And like an orient pearl then she did look,

  Poised between wish and trembling in her mode.

  Each greeted other while they were afar

  And then they clasped their hands as who most cordial are.

  109

  A moment’s pause — then Criseis began;

  “What business brings thee here? Is’t tidings new?”

  And to her Pandar’s answer glibly ran:

  “Lady, I have for thee good news and true,

  But not for others’ ears, — as, shouldst thou scan

  These notes, they’ll prove most quickly to thy view,

  For he who wrote them soon will die of woe,

  If thou’lt not soon on him some little love bestow!

  110

  “Take them, pursue them through with diligence;

  And soon, I ween, reply will make him glad.”

  Criseis paused in timorous reticence,

  Nor took them yet, the while to colour sad

  Her face was changed, until with diffidence

  She cried in plaintive note: “O Pandar mad,

  (Desist; if love puts thee in quiet truth,

  Have some respect for me, not only for the youth.

  111

  “Thyself be judge, consider thou and see;

  Ask thyself dost thou ask a seemly thing.

  Can I do well to take immediately

  Such letters as from Troil thou mayst bring?

  Should e’er a woman through dishonesty

  Think to cure pains that in her lover spring?

  Leave not his letters here, I pray;

  For God’s love, Pandar, take them back — away! away!

  112

  Pandaro, though disturbed, still urged his case:

  “This is a matter ever strange in thought,

  That what they most desire all dames abase,

  And toward it ever each one feels she ought, —

  Beyond her sex, — prove harsh in every place;

  So oft before this truth to thee I’ve brought

  Thou shouldst now be ashamed at hearing me;

  But still I do beseech thou’lt not deny my plea.”

  113

  A while Criseis listened ere she smiled,

  And took and placed his letter in her breast;

  “When I have leisure,” she then murmured mild,

  “Well as I can I’ll scan what he’s confessed;

  And, if for doing so I am reviled,

  The blame must be that I have been oppressed

  By thy ill power; may God the cause observe,

  And for my simple heart some honest way preserve!”

  114

  Pandar, the letter given, took his leave,

  And Criseis, to know what words it said

  Eagerly seized a time (one may believe)

  To leave her maids, and to her room she sped.

  There long she scanned the writing, sans reprieve,

  And deep in pleasure, read it and re-read

  Till she was ware so much Troilo burned

  It seemed in no act could his love be e’er returned.

  115

  Then dear became the thought to her, to know

  Love had so sudden pierced his heart and soul,

  Though that thought, too, was smit with living woe,

  So that she felt herself in nothing whole:

  And each word writ, when noted, moved her so

  She praised and thanked Love with an ample toll,

  Urging within, “This fire to quench some way

  ’Tis meet for me to find the hour, place, and day.

  116

  “For, if I leave it in too great a flame

  Increasing, it may hap incontinent

  My face, discoloured to the point of blame,

  May show the hid desire within me pent,

  Which would be no small scar to my fair name;

  Myself to die I have no great intent

  Nor wish that others die, when, with such joy,

  I can avoid my own and Troilo’s annoy.

  117

  “’Tis sure I shall not tow’rd him be disposed

  Henceforth, as I have been until this hour;

  If Pandaro returns, he’ll find composed

  My answer; I’ll smile and give it to his power

  E’en if there be therewith high cost imposed.

  Nor shall they say I pine within my bower,

  Despised by Troilo; nay, his embrace

  Would I felt now, drawn to him even face to face!”

  118

  Pandaro, oft of Troilo desired,

  At length returned to Criseis the fair,

  And smiling asked, “Have aught thee yet inspired

  The words which from my friend I late did bear?”

  At once her face a crimson colour fired,

  And “God knows!” she could only then declare.

  Yet Pandar urged the more, “Hast thou replied?”

  Whereto “So soon?” she echoed ‘tween her smiles and sighed.

  119

  “If e’er I shall be free to act for thee,”

  Pandaro pressed, “Grant that I be it now.”

  And she to him, “My way I cannot see”;

  While he coaxed still; “To please him think thou now,

  Is not Love wont to teach us well, pardee?

  I wish so much to comfort him, I vow,

  Thou Couldst not e’er i’ faith my wish conceive

  Without thou sent at once thy answer, I believe.”

  120

  I’ll do it then to pleasure thee,” she cried,

  “And Heaven grant the matter may chance well!”

  “It will fare thus,” Pandaro blithe replied, —

  “So far as pleasing him it doth excel,”

  And parted then; while Criseis moved aside,

  And in a corner where it so befell

  Her maids had little custom to resort

  She sat her down and wrote long words to this import:

  121

  “On thee, discreet and shrewdly potent friend,

  Whom love for me so flagrantly beguiles, —

  As now on one who to an undue end

  Is seized with love for her, — Criseis smiles,

  And doth, her honour saved, now recommend

  Her to thy valour which no sin defiles,

  Bidding thee, humbly, hail, to pleasure thee

  If but my name be safe — and eek my chastity!

  122

  “From him who loves thee so he hath no care

  For my pure honour — even for my fame

  I’ve had thy letter in thy writing fair;

  Reading wherein of thy life sad and lame,

  I sorrow as I read (by Heav’n I
swear!

  And as my hopes of future bliss I frame!)

  And, though thy pages are all stained with tears,

  I have looked o’er them much — although with many fears.

  123

  “For pond’ring all things in my reason deep, —

  Thy sore affliction and thy mute request, —

  Seeing thy faith and how thy hope doth leap,

  I know not how I now may please thee best

  Or thy demand, and yet in safety keep,

  As I would e’er, what I have aye confessed, —

  That mundane thing that most doth satisfy, —

  My will to live full chaste and no less chaste to die!

  124

  “For me to pleasure thee were well enough

  If e’er the world were what the world should be;

  But, as it is, we may not use it rough

  But must observe its views obediently,

  Lest other deeds should bring us its rebuff

  And other ills; yet pity grows for thee

  And, malgree me, I’ll have to grant it place

  That thou may seem to gain more freely joy and grace.

  125

  “But such great worth I feel in thee resides

  I know that thou wilt fully comprehend

  What acts for me are meet, and that, besides,

  Thou’lt be content whatever I extend

  To thee in answer; what grief thee now bestrides

  Thou’lt curb, — thy grief that doth my heart offend, —

  Yet felt I not it was forbidden me,

  Most gladly I should do whate’er might pleasure thee.

  126

  “Slight is the art; as thou full well canst see,

  And mean the writing in this letter wrote,

  Which much I wish brought greater cheer to thee,

  But all it wills it cannot clear denote;

  Although good-will may give it potency

  Unless thou think it evilly doth quote.

  Yet may it to thy pain some respite bring,

  Even if it hath not made the fullest answering.

  127

  “For thine own offer here I make no place,

  For I am sure thou’lt keep all faithfully;

  And I forsooth, poor as I am and base,

  More than a thousand times do promise me

  To be thine own, if love doth not efface

  With flame my very soul, which certainly

  Thou wilt not wish; no more, — but God I pray

  He may content thy wish and mine some happy day!”

  128

  And, after she had writ him in such wise,

  She folded, sealed, and gave to Pandaro

  That letter sweet. He, not delaying, hies

  Away with it in search of Troilo,

  And gives him it with joy and great surprise;

  And, taking it, in haste that prince of woe

  Reads what was writ and gins to sigh anew,

  His heart aquiver as her words appear to view.

  129

  But, having well considered all she wrote,

  At last he mused: “If right I understand,

  Love binds her; but, as if of evil note,

  She seeks a shield to hide her from his hand,

  And shelter her from those great blows he smote;

  But that to do she cannot power command,

  For Venus makes me bear love and endure,

  And so must Criseis change to other talk for sure.”

  130

  To Pandar, too, to whom the prince breathed all,

  The same seemed true; so, more than was his use,

  The youth takes comfort in his amorous thrall;

  For his chagrin no more he finds excuse,

  But hopes that presently the hour shall fall

  That will his pains reward with boons profuse;

  And this he begs and calls for day and night

  As that which can alone his suffering requite.

  131

  From day to day his ardour thence increased

  And, though hope helped him bravely to endure,

  In heart to feel most grave he never ceased;

  And that it grieved him much we can be sure,

  Or, from his fervour, we may deem at least

  He oft would dictate letters sweet and pure,

  To which her answers came now harsh, now mild —

  Frequent or rare, however thrifty Fortune smiled.

  132

  Wherefore of Amor oft he would complain

  Or Fortune, too, whom e’er he deemed his foe,

  And many times, “Alas!” he cried in pain;

  “If Amor’s nettle stung with less of woe

  (Since it must pierce and grieve me thus again),

  Then could my life, of solace beggared, go

  And seek out soon that sweet and gracious port,

  Where first I shall arrive when death is my resort.”

  133

  Pandar, who felt how deep the amorous flame

  Burned in the breast of his beloved friend,

  With frequent courtesy to Criseis came

  And frequent prayers, and told her to the end

  All that she saw herself of Troil’s fame;

  Who yet, although she gladly ear would lend,

  Opposed: “Do I not now already do

  The things thou askedst, brother? Why, then, more pursue?”

  134

  “They’ll not suffice,” Pandaro made reply;

  “I wish thou comfort him with fairer speech.”

  And him Criseis answered with a sigh:

  “Myself to do his will I ne’er can teach,

  For that I should my virtue’s crown lay by

  I’ll never wish — through any cause thou preach;

  But like a brother, for his goodness rare,

  I will him always love — and for his honour fair.”

  135

  “This crown,” Pandar replied, “the priests will praise

  In them from whom they cannot rob it e’er;

  All men like saints their brows and speech may raise,

  But, when the world’s asleep, they little care.

  No one shall ever know Prince Trail’s ways; —

  Relieve his pain, — to do him well but dare.

  They do great ill who can, but do no good, —

  And they all waste their time who live in scornful mood.’

  136

  And Criseis said: “I know his virtue well,

  That tender for my honour it will be,

  Nor will he ask, — if right his worth I spell, —

  Other than due and honest things of me;

  And thee I, by my safety, swear and tell,

  That I am his, for whom thou askst this fee,

  More now a thousand times than I am mine,

  So sweet I find his courtesies — so true and fine.”

  137

  “If sweet they seem, what more then shouldst thou seek,

  I pray thee let all this thy shyness go.

  Wouldst thou he died for loving thee so meek?

  Dear thou must hold thy beauty, valued so

  Thou slayest such a man for it! But speak,

  When wouldst thou that he come? Thou whom, I know,

  He prizes more than Heaven or God? How? Where?

  Think not to use with him thine every test and care!”

  138

  “O wretched me! Where wilt thou lead me now,

  My Pandaro, and what more have me do?

  Thou hast despised and broke my chastest vow;

  To look thee in thy face I soon must rue;

  O wretched me! ‘twill never mend, I trow;

  And in my heart the blood will freeze anew,

  The while I think of that he asks of me, —

  And thee it nothing grieves, — as thou dost clearly see!

  139

  “Would I had died upon that idle day,

&n
bsp; When in this loggia first I harked to thee,

  Thou madest my heart to yearn in such a way

  I doubt if e’er again it may be free;

  Rather my honour thou’lt to loss betray

  And me, alack, to sighing endlessly!

  I can no more appeal, and thee to please

  I will incline to do whate’er shall give thee ease.

  140

  “But (if before thy presence prayer may rise),

  I pray thee, gentle, precious kinsman mine,

  Our acts and words be hid from all men’s eyes

  And secret kept; for sure the power is thine

  To see what might ensue if, to surprise,

  Such deeds should come to light; give him this sign —

  Bid him be sage — and, when the time draws nigh,

  I’ll do whatever will his pleasure satisfy.”

  141

  And Pandar answer made, “Thy lips guard well;

  Nor he nor I shall ever thee betray.”

  And she: “So mute thou hast me in thy spell

  Thou canst perceive what fear doth me affray —

  Of what I hardly know; yet thee I tell

  My honour and my shame no less to-day

  Touch thee than me; I’ll pass from them in peace,

  And thou canst do with them whatever thee may please

  142

  And Pandar then: “Have thou no idle fear

  Lest we in this shall not good caution use,

  When wilt thou let the prince talk with thee here?

  Now let us draw the threads ‘twere best we choose; —

  To do it soon doth better far appear

  Since’t must be done, for sure our little ruse

  Is better hid, once ye in love have met

  And both together planned what acts await you yet.”

  143

  “Thou knowst,” said Criseis, “what ladies dwell

  And other servants in my house with me,

  A part of whom must go ere long, they tell,

  T’ attend the fête; then with him I will be.

  May this delay in him no grief compel!

  How he shall come, I’ll show betimes to thee;

  Urge him to act in all things more than shrewd

  And keep his hardihood well hidden and subdued.”

  CANTO THREE

  1

  O SWEET and fervent Light, whose subtle ray

  Up to this point through fair Love’s beauteous hall

  Hath guided, as I craved, my poem’s way,

  It now befits thy doubled beam I call

  To guide my genius and so give it sway

  That in my verse may be declaréd all,

  No parcel missed, the good of Love’s sweet reign,

  Which hath made Troilo a worthy man again.

  2

  For every man can to this reign draw nigh

  Who will Love’s passion all entire endure

  With knowledge, truth, and other virtues high;