One rolls along, a football to his foes;
One with a broken truncheon deals his blows.
This halting, this disabled with his wound,
In triumph led, is to the pillar bound,
Where, by the king's award, he must abide
There goes a captive led on t' other side.
By fits they cease; and leaning on the lance,
Take breath awhile, and to new fight advance.
Full oft the rivals met, and neither spared ·
His utmost force, and each forgot to ward.
The head of this was to the saddle bent,
That other backward to the crupper sent;
Both were by turns unhorsed; the jealous blows
Fall thick and heavy, when on foot they close:
So deep their falchions bite, that every stroke
Pierced to the quick; and equal wounds they gave
and took.
Borne far asunder by the tides of men,
Like adamant and steel they meet again.
So when a tiger sucks the bullock's blood,
A famish'd lion issuing from the wood
Roars lordly fierce, and challenges the food;
Each claims possession, neither will obey,
But both their paws are fasten'd on the prey:
They bite, they tear; and while in vain they strive,
The swains come arm'd between, and both to di-
stance drive.
At length, as fate foredoom'd, and all things tend
By course of time to their appointed end;
So when the sun to west was far declined,
And both afresh in mortal battle join'd,
The strong Emetrius came in Arcite's aid,
And Palamon with odds was overlaid:
For turning short, he struck with all his might
Full on the helmet of the unwary knight.
Deep was the wound; he stagger'd with the blow,
And turn'd him to his unexpected foe; [down,
Whom with such force he struck, he fell'd him
And cleft the circle of his golden crown:
But Arcite's men, who now prevail'd' in fight,
Twice ten at once surround the single knight:
O'erpower'd at length, they force him to the
ground,
Unyielded as he was, and to the pillar bound;
And king Lycurgus, while he fought in vain
His friend to free, was tumbled on the plain.
Who now laments but Palamon, compell'd
No more to try the fortune of the field!
And worse than death, to view with hateful eyes
His rival's conquest, and renounce the prize!
The royal judge on his tribunal placed,
Who had beheld the fight from first to last,
Bade cease the war; pronouncing from on high,
'Arcite of Thebes had won the beauteous Emily.'
The sound of trumpets to the voice replied,
And round the royal lists the heralds cried,
'Arcite of Thebes has won the beauteous bride !'
The people rend the skies with vast applause;
All own the chief, when fortune owns the cause.
Arcite is own'd ev'n by the gods above,
And conquering Mars insults the queen of Love.
So laugh'd he when the rightful Titan fail'd,
And Jove's usurping arms in heaven prevail'd.
Laugh'd all the powers who favour tyranny,
And all the standing army of the sky.
But Venus with dejected eyes appears,
And, weeping, on the lists distill'd her tears;
Her will refused, which grieves a woman most,
And in her champion foil'd, the cause of love is lost.
Till Saturn said, 'Fair daughter, now be still;
The blustering fool has satisfied his will:
His boon is given; his knight has gain'd the day,
But lost the prize; the arrears are yet to pay.
Thy hour is come, and mine the care shall be
To please thy knight, and set thy promise free.'
Now while the heralds run the lists around,
And Arcite, Arcite,' heaven and earth resound;
A miracle (nor less it could be call'd)
Their joy with unexpected sorrow pall'd.
The victor-knight had laid his helm aside,
Part for his ease, the greater part for pride;
Bare-headed, popularly low he bow'd,
And paid the salutations of the crowd:
Then spurring at full speed, ran endlong on
Where Theseus sate on his imperial throne;
Furious he drove, and upward cast his eye,
Where, next the queen, was placed his Emily;
Then passing, to the saddle-bow he bent :
A sweet regard the gracious virgin lent:
(For women, to the brave an easy prey,
Still follow fortune, where she leads the way)
Just theu, from earth sprung out a flashing fire,
By Pluto sent, at Saturn's bad desire;
The startling steed was seized with sudden fright,
And, bounding, o'er the pummel cast the knight:
Forward he flew, and pitching on his head,
He quiver'd with his feet, and lay for dead.
Black was his countenance in a little space,
For all the blood was gather'd in his face.
Help was at hand; they rear'd him from the ground,
And from his cumbrous arms his limbs unbound;
Then lanced a vein, and watch'd returning breath;
It came, but clogg'd with symptoms of his death.
The saddle-bow the noble parts had press'd,
All bruised and mortified his manly breast.
Him still entranced, and in a litter laid,
They bore from field, and to his bed convey'd.
At length he waked, and with a feeble cry,
The word he first pronounced was 'Emily.'
Meantime the king, though inwardly he mourn'd,
In pomp triumphant to the town return'd,
Attended by the chiefs, who fought the field.
(Now friendly mix'd, and in one troop compell'd)
Composed his looks to counterfeited cheer,
And bade them not for Arcite's life to fear.
But that which gladded all the warrior-train,
Though most were solely wounded, none were slain.
The surgeons soon despoiled them of their arms,
And some with salves they cure, and some with
charms;
Foment the bruises, and the pains assuage,
And heal their inward hurts with sovereign draughts
The king in person visits all around,
[of sage.
Comforts the sick, congratulates the sound;
Honours the princely chiefs, rewards the rest,
And holds for thrice three days a royal feast.
None was disgraced; for falling is no shame;
And cowardice alone is loss of fame.
The venturous knight is from the saddle thrown;
But 'tis the fault of fortune, not his own.
If crowns and palms the conquering side adorn,
The victor under better stars was born:
The brave man seeks not popular applause,
Nor overpower'd with arms deserts his cause:
Unshamed, though foil'd, he does the best he can;
Force is of brutes, but honour is of man.
Thus Theseus smiled on all with equal grace; And each was set according to his place.
With ease were reconciled the differing parts,
For envy never dwells in noble hearts.
At length they took their leave, the time expired,
Well pleased; and to their several homes retired.
Meanwhile the health of Arcite still impairs ;
From bad proceeds to worse, and mocks the leeches'
Swoln in his breast, his inward pains increase;
All means are used, and all without success.
The clotted blood lies heavy on his heart,
Corrupts, and there remains in spite of art:
Nor breathing veins, nor cupping will prevail;
All outward remedies and inward fail:
The mould of nature's fabric is destroy'd,
Her vessels discomposed, her virtue void :
The bellows of his lungs begin to swell:
All out of frame is every secret cell,
Nor can the good receive, nor bad expel.
Those breathing organs, thus within oppress'd,
With venom soon distend the sinews of his breast.
Nought profits him to save abandon'd life,
Nor vomit's upward aid, nor downward laxative.
The midmost region batter'd and destroy'd,
When nature cannot work, the effect of art is void;
For physic can but mend our crazy state;
Patch an old building, not a new create.
Arcite is doom'd to die in all his pride,
Must leave his youth, and yield his beauteous bride,
Gain'd hardly, against right, and unenjoy'd.
When 'twas declared all hope of life was past,
Conscience (that of all physic works the last)
Caused him to send for Emily in haste.
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