Whom known of Creon's line, and cured with care,
He to his city sent, as prisoners of the war,
Hopeless of ransom, and condemn'd to lie
In durance, doom'd a lingering death to die.

This done, he march'd away with warlike sound, And to his Athens turn'd with laurels crown'd, Where happy long he lived, much loved, and more renown'd.

But in a tower, and never to be loosed,
The woeful captive kinsmen are inclosed.

Thus year by year they pass, and day by day,
Till once ('twas on the morn of cheerful May)
The young Emilia, fairer to be seen
Than the fair lily on the flowery green,
More fresh than May herself in blossoms new,
(For with the rosy colour strove her hue)
Waked, as her custom was, before the day,
To do the' observance due to sprightly May;
For sprightly May commands our youth to keep
The vigils of her night, and break their sluggard
sleep.

Each gentle breast, with kindly warmth she moves,
Inspires new flames, revives extinguish'd loves;
In this remembrance Emily ere day

Arose, and dress'd herself in rich array;
Fresh as the month, and as the morning fair:
Adown her shoulders fell her length of hair:
A ribband did the braided tresses bind;
The rest was loose, and wanton'd in the wind.
Aurora had but newly chased the night,
And purpled o'er the sky with blushing light,
When to the garden-walk she took her way,
To sport and trip along in cool of day,

And offer maiden vows in honour of the May.

At every turn she made a little stand,
And thrust among the thorns her lily hand
To draw the rose, and every rose she drew
She shook the stalk, and brush'd away the dew:
Then party-colour'd flowers of white and red
She wove, to make a garland for her head:
This done, she sung and caroll'd out so clear,
That men and angels might rejoice to hear.
Even wondering Philomel forgot to sing;
And learn'd from her to welcome in the Spring.
The tower, of which before was mention made,
Within whose keep the captive knights were laid,
Built of a large extent, and strong withal,
Was one partition of the palace-wall:
The garden was enclosed within the square,
Where young Emilia took the morning air.
It happen'd, Palamon, the prisoner knight,
Restless for woe, arose before the light,
And, with his jailor's leave, desired to breathe
An air more wholesome than the damps beneath.
This granted; to the tower he took his way,
Cheer'd with the promise of a glorious day:
Then cast a languishing regard around,

And saw with hateful eyes the temples crown'd
With golden spires, and all the hostile ground.
He sigh'd, and turn'd his eyes, because he knew
'Twas but a larger jail he had in view:
Then look'd below, and from the castle's height
Beheld a nearer and more pleasing sight:
The garden, which before he had not seen,
In spring's new livery clad of white and green,
Fresh flowers in wide parterres, and shady walks

between.

This view'd, but not enjoy'd, with arms across
He stood, reflecting on his country's loss;
Himself an object of the public scorn,
And often wish'd he never had been born.
At last (for so his destiny required)

With walking giddy, and with thinking tired,
He through a little window cast his sight,
Though thick of bars, that gave a scanty light:
But even that glimmering serv'd him to descry
The' inevitable charms of Emily.

Scarce had he seen, but seized with sudden smart, Stung to the quick, he felt it at his heart; Struck blind with overpowering light he stood, Then started back amazed, and cried aloud!

Young Arcite heard; and up he ran with haste To help his friend, and in his arms embraced; And ask'd him why he look'd so deadly wan, And whence, and how his change of cheer began? Or who had done the' offence? But if,' said he, Your grief alone is hard captivity;

For love of Heaven, with patience undergo
A cureless ill, since fate will have it so:
So stood our horoscope in chains to lie,
And Saturn, in the dungeon of the sky,
Or other baleful aspect, ruled our birth,
When all the friendly stars were under earth:
Whate'er betides, by destiny 'tis done,

And better bear like men, than vainly seek to shun.’

Nor of my bonds,' said Palamon again,

Nor, of unhappy planets I complain;

But when my mortal anguish caused my cry,
That moment I was hurt through either eye;
Pierced with a random shaft, I faint away,
And perish with insensible decay :