My sire’s commands, his lies, — a Grecian lord, —
Nothing can turn my love from thee, my soul-adored!
147
“But what thou sayst of fleeing now from here,
Is not, in my own view, good counseling:
One must think much in times, like these, severe,
And to one’s thought, both self and kindred bring;
For three great faults would to thy sight appear,
Once we had gone, as thou wouldst urge the thing;
And one through broken faith we should perceive,
Which portends more of ill than any men believe.
148
“And, then, ’twould be with peril to thy kin,
For if, sans aid and counsel, thou them leave
For one poor woman’s love, they’ll have within
A fear lest others’ treasons soon them grieve;
And, — if my wits I really sharpen thin, —
Thou wilt thereon the foulest blame receive,
And then the truth will never be believed
Save by our only friend, who hath our love perceived.
149
“And if the time require no loyalty,
Still war’s great needs abide on every hand;
And none his own puissance clear can see
Or hope, of his own self, secure to stand:
And many men unite them hopefully,
For what they risk with others of their land,
They risk more sure; who in themselves much trust,
And in their goods, soon see their hopes decay to dust.
150
“And more, — bethink thee now, what would be said
Among the common folk if thou shouldst go?
That ’twas not Love, with burning darts, that sped
Thy flight, but fear and cowardice, I trow.
Beware that such thoughts take then further head
In thee, and let thy heart no more them know
If to thy soul thy fame was ever dear,
Which of thy valour still doth sound so clear.
151
“And further, think thou of my honour too,
And of my chastity, supremely prized, —
How infamy would stain their spotless hue,
Both be undone, both lost and both despised,
And never raised again so pure in view
Through any plea or any virtue realized
In aught I hence might do, if I should tell
A hundred thousand years of living nobly well.
152
“And yet one more thing, — see thou realize
A truth that chanceth aye in man’s affairs:
There is no thing so vile, as see the wise,
As wishing that for which one nothing dares; —
The more one yearns to own that with one’s eyes,
The sooner in one’s heart one evil bears,
If one, with power large the ill to see
What hath been done, still holds the evil inwardly.
153
“And this our love, that thee doth so delight,
Doth so because we love in secrecy
And rarely come to have its peace aright;
Yea, if thou once shouldst have me wholly free,
The burning fires would be extinguished quite
That now flame thee — and me no less than thee;
Wherefore, if we would have our love stay real,
As much we wish, we must it more in secret steal.
154
“Therefore take cheer, and vanquish Fortune quite,
Render her weak and make her turn her back;
Subject to her control hath stayed no wight
Who never of a free will felt the lack;
Pursue her course and measure, in this plight,
Such steps for thee as make thy sighs more slack,
For ten days hence, sans any failing thee,
I will return to stay in Troy continually.”
155
“If thou,” then answered Troilo, “return
Within the tenth day, I’ll abide content.
But who, in that long time, some means will learn
To soothe my grievous woes and languishment?
Already as thou canst quite well discern,
I pass no single hour sans grave torment
If thou’rt not near. O how, then, can I spend
Ten long, long days before thy steps tow’rd Troy do bend?
156
“For God’s sweet sake then find a means to stay
And go not, if thou any means canst see;
I know thou art full subtle in thy way,
If true I grasp reports I hear of thee;
And that no thought now more doth on me prey,
Thou seest clear, if true thou lovest me,
Than this, — that thou dost go; thou canst perceive,
Once thou art gone away, how sore my life will grieve.”
157
“Alack,” cried Criseis, “thou wilt me slay;
Too much, in thy beliefs, thou givest me
Of black wanhope; I cannot trust to-day
As, when I promised, once I trusted thee;
Alas, my love, what makes thee fear this way?
Why lose thy strength of will so utterly?
Who could believe a man, so brave in war,
Would so a ten days absence of his love deplore?
158
“I think thou canst far better it afford
To take resolve as to thee I have said;
Be more content with it, O sweet my lord,
And know for sure that my breast, too, hath bled,
That my soul, too and heart weep in accord
As from thy countenance they see me led;
For more than thou dost think now or suppose
I feel, as I have felt, my griefs about me close.
159
“Awaiting time hath often recompense
In gaining time, my love, my Troilo;
Nor am I, as thou claimst, now wrested hence,
Because it is to Calchas that I go;
And do not think in mind I am so dense
I cannot find a way among the foe
For coming back to thee, whom more I love
Than life, and treasure — far all other good above!
160
“And so I pray, — if aught my prayers avail, —
By that great love I know thou hast for me,
By my own love, which nothing thee doth fail, —
For this, my parting now, thou comfort thee;
For seeing still thy tears and sighs prevail,
Thou knowest, brings the deepest hurt to me;
’Tis pity that thou let them plague thee so,
Thou oughtest rid thee of them by some potent blow.
161
“For thee I hope in sweet desire and joy
To live, and hope for thee soon to return, —
And then some means to our delight employ;
But let me in such guise now thee discern
As will, before I go, soothe mine annoy
That then no other pain may in me burn
Than that great flame of love within my heart;
Be blithe then, Troil, who my peace and comfort art.
162
“And this I pray, — while I shall absent be, —
Thou in no other lady take delight,
Nor let a stranger’s charms take hold on thee;
For, if I learned, thou must believe of right
I’d slay myself in mad insanity,
Superlatively grieving in my plight.
Oh, Couldst thou leave me for another love,
Thou whom I love as woman ne’er loved man above?”
163
And to her last words Troilo with sighs
Made answer then: “If I should wish to do
That that thou touchest on in fearful wise,
> I know not how I could such crime pursue;
So hath my love for thee grown great in size
I could not live, should I such evil view.
The love I bear to thee, and all its cause,
Unfold I will, and tell in words its noble laws.
164
“Twas not thy beauty urged my loving thee,
Which oft is wont to other men ensnare;
Nor yet thy breeding and thy courtesy,
Which often seize men’s wills all unaware;
Nor yet thy richesse nor thy jewelry
Caused in my heart the love that stirreth there;
And still ’tis true, thou art more rich in these
Than ever lady was who lived in Love’s fair ease.
165
“’Twas thy high acts of peerless sov’reignty, —
Thy worth, thy lofty speech in lordly strain,
Thy manners wrought of fair gentility,
Thy charming and thy feminine disdain,
Which make all lust seem more than vile to thee,
And more than vile all deeds of vulgar stain, —
So pure thou art, O potent lady mine, —
’Twas these that made my heart to thee incline.
166
“And such things years can never wrench away,
Nor fickle Fortune; and thence ’tis I aspire
Through anguish, travail, every toil-paved way, —
Always to have thee close to my desire.
Alack then, what repose my loss can stay,
Once thou art gone, my love, my heart’s sweet fire?
I ne’er shall find repose, except in death,
And only when my woes cease with my mortal breath.
167
And, after much the two had reasoned so
And wept together, when the dawn drew near,
They broke off talking of their heart-felt woe,
And close they both embraced and held them dear;
And, when the cocks had much begun to crow,
After a thousand kisses sweet and clear,
Each rose and to the other spake farewell;
And they two parted with more tears than I can tell.
CANTO FIVE
1
UPON the same day came, then, Diomed
To give An tenor to his kin in Troy;
And to him Priam bade Criseis lead,
So full of dolour, sighs, and sad annoy
She made the hearts of those who saw her bleed;
And Troil stood nearby, — and all sans joy
To sorrow given o’er as never wight
Was giv’n who dwelt upon this earth and knew its light.
2
Yet true it is, he in his breast did hide
The battle that was waging furious there,
So marv’llously that not a man espied
His sighs or deep lament; — no trace of care
Showed on his countenance, now fair and wide,
Although he wished he might alone repair
To breathe his plaint in some close-hid retreat,
And at his ease there furiously his woes repeat.
3
And many things came in his lofty soul
At seeing Criseis sent to her sire;
And at him most, the cause of all his dole,
His anger raged and all of Troil’s ire;
Grief gnawed within, and pain without control,
While he complained: “What more do I require?
O caitiff wight, ’tis better once to die
Than live and languish weeping to eternity.
4
“Why not with these my arms, the pact destroy?
And why not here this Diomede slay?
Or fell the old man, cause of mine annoy?
And why not these my brothers here betray?
Or why not turn to weeping all of Troy,
To dolorous shrieks? And bring all ills this day?
O why not carry off my Criseis
And in some new abode provide my cure and bliss?
5
“Who will gainsay if what I wish I do?
Why should I not to e’en the Greeks make cry,
Ask that they Criseis leave with gentle rue?
Why more delay? Why run not there more nigh,
And so let all my friends my madness view?”
But that proud thought and lofty purpose high,
Fear made him leave, lest Criseis be killed
And in th’ ensuing fray her warm red blood be spilled.
6
And Criseis, when she saw to part was need,
Just as she was, in that sad company,
Mounted the horse that stood there as her steed,
Since go she must, and then full piteously
She gan, within, with Heav’n to intercede:
“O cruel Jove, and Fortune cruel to me,
Where do ye bear me now against my will?
Why so much doth it pleasure you to see my ill?
7
“Ye wrest me hence, O cruel and pitiless,
From the one joy that entered e’er my soul;
Haply ye think to you I shall address
Honour and sacrifice to slack my dole,
But in that wish ye are deceivéd whole;
For I shall henceforth in my woes express
Only my scorn of you, while I sojourn
Afar, and Troil’s noble face cannot discern.”
8
And then she turned, in her proud high disdain,
To Diomed and said: “Then go we now,
Let me be shown to thy Greek host more plain, —
A host that hopes t’ escape its woes, I vow,
When they so subtly gaze on her they gain, —
And honourable exchange thou mak’st, I trow, —
A woman rendered for a mighty king,
A woman for a man, a brave and much feared thing.”
9
These things she said, and forward spurred her mount
And only bade her closest friends goodbye;
But all the lords there clearly could recount
With what great scorn the lady made her cry:
Then she was gone, — to take no further count
Of speech or gossip, — with unseeing eye,
Away from Troy, where ne’er she should return
To be with Troilo, as much her soul did yearn.
10
But Troil, in the guise of courtesy,
With more companions, mounted his great steed,
A falcon on his wrist, and company
He gave her, far as the wall allowed the deed
(Though he had gone the whole way willingly
To Criseis’ new home if Priam had agreed);
But, through that, too much might discovered be,
And his repute for wit he held in slight degree.
11
Meanwhile there came surrendered Antenor
Back from the Greeks; and Troy’s brave youths with fest
Received their friend to show him honour more;
And, though that coming back proved sad behest
To Troil’s heart, which Criseis did deplore,
The prince a fair good mien expressed,
Making his brother welcome cordially
And bidding Pandar ride with him for chivalry.
12
And, being now where they must take their leave,
He and Criseis somewhat nearer drew
And gazed each in the other’s eyes to grieve,
Nor could the lady check her plaint and rue,
When each the other’s right hand did receive
And Troilo accosted her anew
In soft accents (but such that she could hear)
And said, “Return, lest I should die in pain and fear.”
13
He spake no more but turned his gallant steed,
While all his face grew crimson deep, and red
;
Nor breathed one little word to Diomed,
Who, shrewdly all the pretty business read
Of the two lovers’ love in very deed,
With diverse thoughts arising in his head.
But what he thought himself he softly told,
Resolving secretly to keep his plans in hold.
14
Her father welcomed her with much ado,
As if his love to her had been most great;
But she stood still and modest in his view,
Tortured within, in life made desolate,
Grief filling every vein with bitter rue,
For still she kept her heart to Troil true;
Which, all too soon, was bound to change its view
And him relinquish for another lover new.
15
And back to Troy now turned Prince Troilo
Sadder of soul than e’er was mortal wight —
And sure ne’er tortured fellow showed such woe
As Troil did in face, poor broken knight!
Dismounted at his palace, sad and slow,
Pensive as ne’er before in any plight,
He would not bear what any man might say,
But in his lonely chamber hid himself away.
16
Here to the grief he had till then restrained,
He gave full vent, and loud for death he cried;
And of that blessing much he now complained
That seemed now lost, — and more, he even sighed
Because none in the court had knowledge gained
Of that hid love he had with Criseis plied;
And in such deep lament he passed the day,
Nor would he suffer slave or friend to come his way.
17
And, if that entire day was passed in woe,
’Twas nothing checked when night came on obscure,
For tears and grief did then redoubled flow,
So much night made his bitter fortune sure;
He cursed the day that he was born below, —
All gods and goddesses and great nature, —
Nor less his sire, who did the word concede
That Criseis to the Greeks his vassals thence might lead.
18
And then himself he cursed for cowardice,
That he had let her go so passively,
Had not resolved to act in firmer wise,
Had not more willed away with her to flee,
Had not done this nor made that sacrifice, —
Repentant still, and wishing death to see;
It seemed because he’d made no one demand
They had not given her most freely to his hand.
19
And then he turned him much, now here now there;
And all the while tossed sadly on his bed,
Forever weeping in his wild despair:
“And what a night is this!” he cried and said,
“When what it is with past nights I compare!
Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio Page 414
