Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  In whom such virtued, holy excellence I view!

  82

  “’Tis this, that in me now such joy doth raise

  And always will, if that I keep me wise;

  ’Tis this, O goddess, makes me so to praise

  All lucent virtue that within thee lies, —

  For which, I Heaven thank, no arms have ways

  To wrest me from thy clear-lit face and eyes, —

  In which I saw thy virtue pictured so

  That all thy lucid puissance glistened there aglow.

  83

  “I bless the time, the year, the month, the day, —

  Nay more that very hour and moment I would bless, —

  When chastest Criseis, fair and blithe and gay,

  First showed my eyes her witching beauteousness;

  Nor yet to bless thy son would I delay,

  Whose grace to me in virtue is no less,

  Kindling my love to her as servant true,

  Putting my peace in those her eyes so fair to view.

  84

  “And blessed I would call those fervent sighs,

  Which for her sake I’ve driven from my breast;

  And blessed too the tortures and the cries,

  Which made me find through love love’s perfect rest;

  While to those sweet desires drawn from her eyes,

  More fair than others’, should be praise addressed;

  And unto thee my highest thanks I lift

  Because thou shewest me so high and blest a gift.

  85

  “But higher yet great Jove I would extol;

  Who to the world gave such a lady dear;

  And unto me, in darkness sunken all,

  The light to see her radiant-shining here, —

  Until in her, from whom high wish might call,

  I felt inflamed and saw my joy draw near;

  Such favours never yet have gods bestowed

  On man, from whom they are, in sooth, more truly owed.

  86

  “Had I a hundred tongues, and could each speak,

  And had I in my breast a poet’s power,

  All thy, and all their knowledge, were too weak

  E’er to express her virtue’s lofty dower, —

  Her courtesy or yet her pleasaunce meek;

  Whoever can portray them at this hour,

  I pray he now his subtle craft shall lend

  And make me know it better — to a noble end.

  87

  “And thou, O goddess, canst such craft confer.

  If thou but wish, and much I crave it thee;

  To thee what greater happiness could now occur

  Than so disposing all my hours for me

  That all of them be spent to pleasure her?

  Grant me, O goddess, such a boon to see

  Me who was gathered once in thy embrace,

  And after, taken thence not knowing thy true grace.

  88

  “Follow who will now wealth or mighty reign;

  War or adventure, hunting, falconry;

  Diana’s pastimes, Mars’ prodigious pain;

  Henceforth my gaze on Criseis’ eyes shall be,

  And all my time I shall hereafter train

  To keep it on their beauty constantly;

  For, as I gaze, they raise me Jove above

  So much they fill my heart with boundless, priceless love.

  89

  “I have not worthy thanks to offer thee,

  O goddess fair, O fair Eternal Light;

  And muteness e’en now so oppresses me

  I cannot speak; but then, my lady bright,

  Accept the thanks I wish thee honestly;

  Prolong, conceal, correct, and govern right

  Mine ardour now — and hers whom I adore;

  Let not our loves be changelings hence forevermore.”

  90

  Then did this Troil in each chance of war,

  Prove him first chief in arms in every deed;

  And he upon the Greeks so fiercely bore, —

  So bold and brave, if true’s the tale I read, —

  They were affrayed by him as ne’er before

  By any man; for now ’twas Love did feed

  With courage high his lofty spirit proud, —

  Great Love, whose servitor he had him late avowed.

  91

  Or he would go to hunt in times of truce

  With falcon, gerfalcon, or eagle e’en, in hand;

  And, oftentimes, it was with dogs his use

  To chase great bears, boars, lions through the land,

  For smaller game he spurned and did refuse;

  And at such times he would for joy expand, —

  If Criseis he saw, — as blithe and free

  As falcon from a hood new set at liberty.

  92

  And then of love his speech was all entire,

  Of gracious mien, and full of courtesy;

  To praise all honest men was his desire,

  And from all caitiffs still to keep him free;

  And whate’er youths excelled in youthful fire,

  Adorned with honours ’twas his will to see;

  But them that loved not, much he held in scorn —

  Lost souls, whose villain state was hardly to be borne

  93

  And though of royal blood was this our knight,

  And though at will he might in much command,

  Humble he made himself as any wight, —

  As modest as the lowliest in the land;

  For so Love willed, in whom dwells subtle might,

  To make men more for others’ pleasure stand;

  Pride, envy, avarice he held in ire

  And from all taint of these he made himself retire.

  94

  But such great joy could last but little space,

  Thanks to Dame Fortune, cruel and envious,

  Who in this world leaves nothing firm in place.

  For some new chance (and oft it cometh thus!)

  She turned from Troilo her cruel face;

  And all the joy he felt so copious,

  The fruits of Criseis’ love, she tore away,

  And for them did him but a bitter grief repay.

  CANTO FOUR

  1

  SINCE that the Greeks still held in mighty siege

  The Trojan town, Prince Hector, in whose hand

  Was all the war, sought out from Trojans liege, —

  And from the bravest allies in the land, —

  And picked a group for valour’s privilege,

  And with them in the open fields took stand

  Against the Greeks, as oft before he’d done;

  And all the varied chance of melee they did run.

  2

  The Greeks advanced and square the encounter met,

  And all that day in battle hard they spent;

  Until the Trojan knights, too sore beset, —

  Their sally failing, — when occasion lent,

  Turned them to flight, as loss and travail let;

  But in that fight by Death were many hent;

  And others still were taken prisoner then, —

  Famed kings, great lords, and numerous noble valiant men.

  3

  Mongst these were that great hero, Antenor,

  Polydamas his son, and Menesteus,

  Xantippus, Sarpedon, Polynestor, —

  Poli tes too, and Trojan-keen Rifeus, —

  And others whom to save the brave Hector

  Tried all his might. But ’twas to little use;

  Retreat was forced, and plaints filled all of Troy,

  Though auguries foretold a greater yet annoy.

  4

  King Priam asked a truce and ’twas declared;

  Whereat for the exchange they gan to treat;

  Ransoms of heavy gold were now prepared,

  Man or a gift should buy man from defeat.

  Soon then as Calch
as saw how matters fared,

  He changed his face, and mid the Greeks full fleet

  He got, roaring his plaints, — and howled until

  He had obtained that they would listen to his will.

  5

  “Trojan I was, my lords,” the seer began,

  “As all of you, methinks, are full aware;

  And if you will recall, I am the man

  Who first brought hope unto your thirst and care,

  And said, when to its end the season ran

  And the due hour came, then should your trumpets blare

  The victory you had won for high emprise,

  When Troy should burn and fall before your watching eyes.

  6

  “The order and the means thereof you know

  And hold from me, as I did demonstrate;

  But though all your desires in time proved so, —

  And at the looked for hour, as I did state, —

  Still in no word of mine your faith you’d show

  If ta’en from sealed or opened book of late,

  However much it seemed my coming here

  Was willed to give you counsel and provide new cheer.

  7

  “And, since Fate wished it so, ’twas fortunate

  That I by my own skill should find the way

  T’ escape the town — so keep the secret great

  That none should know a word of it to say —

  And bring me here alone, when day was late

  And clear sky turning light to brown and gray.

  For come I have and hither with me brought,

  Of all the things I owned, no greater thing than naught.

  8

  “But for my leaving all I nothing care,

  Save for that only daughter young and frail,

  Whom I left back: O parent sans compare

  For cruelty, his offspring so to fail!

  Would God I’d led her safe from there!

  But fear and fury made my courage pale: —

  That is my cause of grief for leaving Troy,

  ’Tis that hath robbed from me all of my cheer and joy.

  9

  “Long days I’ve made myself in silence wait,

  Seeing no time when I could make demands

  Of you to ransom her, but now — though late —

  I come to ask this favour of your hands;

  And if you cannot give’t, — if ’tis my fate

  I ne’er shall see her more, — more these lands

  I’ll wander ne’er again; my life I’ll scorn;

  Careless to live or die, in all things then forlorn.

  10

  “Here in your camp is many a Trojan peer,

  Baron and lesser man ye would exchange

  For captured Greeks the Trojans hold in fear;

  To give me one you could with ease arrange,

  And for the price of him, a price not dear,

  Criseis ransom: O thus, I beg, estrange

  From grief, for God’s sweet sake, a wretched wight,

  Grown old — and of all solace void and empty quite,

  11

  “And let no wish, by Heaven I conjure you,

  For great wealth gained through ransoms of these lords,

  Delay you now, when ’tis most certain-true

  That all Troy’s strength and all Troy’s richest hoards

  Are in your hands; and (if I err not too)

  The might of him whose courage yet affords

  To keep Troy locked against your wish, will fail,

  And Hector soon, methinks, in violent death fall pale.”

  12

  And, as he spoke these words, the ancient priest,

  Humble in speech and with a face downcast,

  Watered his cheeks with tears most free released;

  Over his hoary beard and breast they passed,

  Endewing all: and ne’er his prayers he ceased

  Until their piteousness gained ears at last;

  For, when they heard, the Greeks began to shrill,

  “Send Antenor to Troy, let Calchas have his will.”

  13

  Such compact made they; Calchas felt content;

  And envoys for the task they soon had chose:

  These came to Priam, told why they were sent,

  And to his sons and lords made honest shows,

  Till Troy’s grave king had called a parliament

  The thing to weigh, and answer brief was lent:

  If Greeks to Trojans firm their pledge will hold,

  Trojans will hand to Greeks what prisoners they are

  14

  Troil stood near at that great conference

  And heard the Greeks for Criseis make request.

  Sudden his heart was pierced without defense;

  Then Sorrow’s quickened thrust him sore oppressed

  And on his soul grief fell so stern-intense

  He felt he must die, sitting there distressed;

  Only with labour did he keep confined

  As it behooved, the love and sad complainings in his mind.

  15

  Then he grew full of anguish and proud fear,

  And he began to wait the dread reply;

  Unwonted was the care fell on him here,

  The while he pondered what was best and why,

  Whether his secret to his brother’s ear

  He dared entrust when fortune ill was nigh, —

  If Criseis were to Calchas rendered now,

  How he might hinder that by any deed or vow.

  16

  On one hand came then Love, that made him feel

  Ready to offer him gainst any fate;

  While on the other Reason’s stern repeal

  Gave such proud-high emprise a doubtful rate,

  For might not Criseis (the thought was real)

  Be brought thereby to fears most desolate? —

  So, will-he? nill-he? in his tristful woe

  Between two fires he stood, — the fearful damoiseau.

  17

  And while he brooded in such doleful wise,

  Yet all suspense, the barons still conferred,

  Discussing much whatever did arise,

  What most was needful for what had occurred;

  And when they spake, it was with no surprise

  To him who waited for their answering word, —

  Criseis should be giv’n incontinent, —

  She ne’er had been in any durance held or pent.

  18

  As a field-lily, then, by plough-share caught

  And notched, falls low beneath the intense sun

  And fades, its late rich colour changed to naught,

  And paleness covering all; so pallour won

  (When into words their counsel full was wrought,

  And Greek and Trojan pledges had begun)

  Till Troil swooned away, struck low by grief

  For peril boundless quite — and loss sans all relief.

  19

  Then him old Priam seized in quick embrace,

  And Hector and his brothers, too, for fear

  Now moved them all lest worse should prove his case;

  Each sought to succour him to death so near;

  One rubbed his pulse, another bathed his face,

  And each a prudent wight with love sincere

  Laboured to call his spirit back again,

  Though for some little time it naught availed their pain.

  20

  He lay among his kindred vanquished quite,

  And little breath was left in his pale frame,

  His face showed lifeless, — tinged a deathlike white, —

  Like dead he seemed, and living but in name;

  (Such sorry guise was his in that sad plight

  None saw that wept not for the pain that came),

  For all too cruel was that lofty tone

  He heard, when ’twas declared the Greeks should Criseis own.

  2
1

  A long time did his stricken spirit stray,

  In darkness lost, ere it recovered all;

  Then, coming back, returned in quiet way;

  Whence he, like one who waked at sudden call,

  Rose sudden to his feet in deep dismay,

  A moment dazed; then, ere wight could fall

  On him and ask what pain ’twas hurt him so,

  He feigned some cause, and scaped with his new bitter woe.

  22

  And tow’rd his palace quickly then he sped,

  Without appeal or sign to any wight;

  So deep on sighs and sorrows had he fed,

  He wished no comrade in his dismal plight,

  And, come unto his room, Prince Troil said

  He so lacked sleep that now of every knight

  He must needs be excused — his servants, too, might leave,

  Closing the windows first; he would not light perceive!

  23

  To witness what then followed, lady fair,

  I cannot wish at all that thou be near;

  And yet my soul must know such heavy care,

  As fills both memory and mind with fear,

  Though, of itself oppressed, ‘twill little dare

  (For so my parting from thee keeps it drear)

  One jot to tell, unless thou give it aid, —

  Thou who hast caused the wound by which ’tis still affrayed.

  24

  To this time blithely have I sung in joy

  All the rich favour Love gave Troilo,

  And what was mingled in it of annoy;

  Now I must turn from joy to sombre woe,

  And even though thou like not mine employ,

  I cannot yet refrain — perforce I know

  Thy heart will change and with new pity view

  Mine own life, given up so whole to grief and rue.

  25

  But if my wishes ever reach thine ears,

  I pray thee by the love I bear to thee,

  Give respite to my grievous woes and fears,

  And so restore my wonted joy to me,

  Which at our parting turned itself to tears:

  Yea, if my death thou’dst bear aught heavily,

  Return thou soon; for it is cherished naught,

  The life thou leftest me when parting pleased thy thought.

  26

  Prince Troil in his chamber barred and dark

  Stayed desolate, — without that any man

  Suspected aught, — sans fear that men could hark, —

  And there the grief that in his breast now ran

  And made, through misadventure, such sad mark,

  To give release the caitiff then began,

  Opening his heart in such a crazéd way

  He seemed not man but frenzied beast, thou wouldest say.

  27

  Not otherwise a bull which mortal blow

  Hath had, goes leaping madly here and there,

  And, by his wretched roaring, makes all know