Had Chaucer liv'd that angel face to view,
Sure he had drawn his Emily from you;
Or had you liv'd to judge the doubtful right,
Your noble Palamon had been the knight;
And conquering Theseus from his side had sent
govern-
Your generous lord, to guide the Theban
ment.
Time shall accomplish that; and I shall see
A Palamon in him, in you an Emily.
Already have the fates your path prepar'd,
And sure presage your future sway declar'd:
When westward, like the sun, you took your
And from benighted Britain bore the day, [way,
Blue Triton gave the signal from the shore,
The ready Nereids heard, and swam before
To smooth the seas; a soft Etesian gale
But just inspir'd, and gently swell'd the sail;
Portunus took his turn whose ample hand
Heav'd up his lighten'd keel and sunk the sand,
And steer'd the sacred vessel safe to land.
The land, if not restrain'd, had met your way,
Projected out a neck, and jutted to the sea.
Hibernia, prostrate at your feet, ador'd,
In you, the pledge of her expected lord;
Due to her isle; a venerable name;
His father and his grandsire known to fame;
Aw'd by that house, accustom'd to command,
The sturdy kerns in due subjection stand;
Nor bear the reins in any foreign hand.
At your approach, they crowded to the port;
And scarcely landed, you create a court:
As Ormond's harbinger, to you they run;
For Venus is the promise of the sun.
The waste of civil wars, their towns destroy'd,
Pales unhonour'd, Ceres unemploy'd,
Were all forgot; and one triumphant day
Wip'd all the tears of three campaigns away.
Blood, rapines, massacres, were cheaply bought,
So mighty recompense your beauty brought.
As when the dove returning bore the mark
Of earth restor❜d to the long-lab'ring ark,
The relics of mankind, secure of rest,
Oped every window to receive the guest,
And the fair bearer of the message bless'd;
So, when you came, with loud repeated cries,
The nation took an omen from your eyes,
And God advanc'd his rainbow in the skies,
To sign inviolable peace restor❜d;
The saints, with solemn shouts, proclaim'd the
new accord.
When at your second coming you appear,
(For I fortell that millenary year)
The sharpen'd share shall vex the soil no more,
But earth unbidden shall produce her store;
The land shall laugh, the circling ocean smile,
And heaven's indulgence bless the holy isle.
Heaven from all ages has reserv'd for you
That happy clime, which venom never knew;
Or if it had been there, your eyes alone
Have power to chase all poison but their own.
Now in this interval, which fate has cast
Betwixt your future glories and your past,
This pause of power, 't is Ireland's hour to
While England celebrates your safe return,
By which you seem the season to command,
And bring our summers back to their forsaken
land,
The vanquish'd isle our leisure must attend,
Till the fair blessing we vouchsafe to send ;
Nor can we spare you long, tho' often we may
lend.
The dove was twice employ'd abroad, before
The world was dried and she return'd no more.
Nor dare we trust so soft a messenger,
New from her sickness, to that northern air
Rest here awhile your lustre to restore,
That they may see you as you shone before;
For yet, the eclipse not wholly past, you wade
Through some remains, and dimness of a
shade.
A subject in his prince may claim a right,
Nor suffer him with strength impar'd to fight;
Till force returns, his ardour we restrain,
And curb his warlike wish to cross the main.
Now past the danger, let the learn'd begin
The inquiry, where disease could enter in;
How those maligant atoms forc'd their way,
What in the faultless frame they found to make
their prey?
Where every element was weigh'd so well,
That heaven alone, who mix'd the mass, could
Which of the four ingredients could rebel; [tell
And where, imprison'd in so sweet a cage,
A soul might well be pleas'd to pass an age.
And yet the fine materials made it weak:
Porcelain, by being pure, is apt to break :
E'en to your breast the sickness durst aspire ;
And, forc'd from that fair temple to retire,
Profanely set the holy place on fire.
In vain your lord, like young Vespasian,
mourn'd,
When the fierce flames the sanctuary burn'd:
And I prepar'd to pay in verses rude
A most detested act of gratitude:
E'en this had been your elegy, which now
Is offer'd for your health, the table of my vow.
Your angel sure our Morley's mind in-
spir'd,
To find the remedy your ill required.
As once the Macedon, by Jove's decree,
Was taught to dream a herb for Ptolemee:
Or Heaven,which had such over-cost bestow'd
As scarce it could afford to flesh and blood,
So lik'd the frame, he would not work anew,
To save the charges of another you,
Or by his middle science did he steer,
And saw some great contingent good appear
Well worth a miracle to keep you here:
And for that end, preserv'd the precious mould,
Which all the future Ormonds was to hold;
And meditated in his better mind [ing kind.
An heir from you, which may redeem the fail-
Blest be the power which has at once restor❜d
The hopes of lost succession to your lord ;
Joy to the first and last of each degree,
Virtue to courts, and, what I long'd to see;
To you the Graces, and the Muse to me.
O daughter of the rose, whose cheeks unite
The differing titles of the red and white;
Who heaven's alternate beauty well display,
The blush of morning, and the milky way;
Whose face is paradise, but fenc'd from sin :
For God in either eye has plac'd a cherubin.
All is your lord's alone; e'en absent, he
Employs the care of chaste Penelope.
For him you waste in tears your widow'd hours,
For him your curious needle paints the flowers;
Such works of old imperial dames were taught;
Such, for Ascanius, fair Elisa wrought.
The soft recesses of your hours improve
The three fair pledges of your happy love :
All other parts of pious duty done,
You owe your Ormond nothing but a son;
To fill in future times his father's place,
And wear the garter of his mother's race.
PALAMON AND ARCITE;* OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE.
IN days of old, there liv'd, of mighty fame,
A valiant prince, and Theseus was his name:
A chief, who more in feats of arms excell'd,
The rising nor the settting sun beheld.
Of Athens he was lord; much land he won,
And added foreign countries to his crown.
In Scythia with the warrior queen he strove,
Whom first by force he conquer'd, then by love;
He brought in triumph back the beauteous
dame,
With whom her sister, fair Emilia, came.
With honour to his home let Theseus ride,
With love to friend, and fortune for his guide,
And his victorious army at his side.
I pass their warlike pomp, their proud array, Their shouts, their songs, their welcome on the way:
Chaucer was more than sixty years old, and Dryden seventy, when they wrote Palamon. Sade says, in 1259 Boccace sent a copy of Dante, written by his own hand, to Petrarch, who, it seems, was jealous of Dante, and in his answer speaks coldly of him.-Sade, p. 507. Dr. J. W.
But, were it not too long, I would recite The feats of Amazons, the fatal fight Betwixt the hardy queen and hero knight; The town besieg'd, and how much blood it cost The female army, and the Athenian host; The spousals of Hippolita the queen ; What tilts and tourneys at the feast were seen; The storm at their return, the ladies' fear But these, and other things, I must forbear; The field is spacious I design to sow, With oxen far unfit to draw the plough: The remnant of my tale is of a length To tire your patience, and to waste my strength, And trivial accidents shall be forborne, That others may have time to take their turn; As was at first enjoin'd us by mine host: That he whose tale is best, and pleases most, Should win his supper at our common cost.
And therefore where I left, I will pursue This ancient story, whether false or true, In hope it may be mended with a new. The prince I mention'd, full of high renown, In this array drew near the Athenian town; When in his pomp and utmost of his pride, Marching, he chanc'd to cast his eye aside, And saw a choir of mourning dames, who lay By two and two across the common way: At his approach they rais'd a rueful cry, And beat their breasts, and held their hands
Creeping and crying, till they seized at last His courser's bridle, and his feet embrac'd.
Tell me, said Theseus, what and whence
And why this funeral pageant you prepare?
Is this the welcome of my worthy deeds,
To meet my triumph in ill omen'd weeds?
Or envy you my praise, and would destroy
With grief my pleasures and pollute my joy?
Or are you injur'd, and demand relief?
Name your request,and I will ease your grief.
The most in years of all the mourning train
Began; (but swooned first away for pain)
Then scarce recover'd spoke: Nor envy we
Thy great renown, nor grudge thy victory;
'T is thine O king, the afflicted to redress,
And fame has fill'd the world with thy success :
We wretched women sue for that alone,
Let fall some drops of pity on our grief,
Which of thy goodness is refus'd to none;
If what we beg be just, and we deserve relief:
For none of us, who now thy grace implore,
But held the rank of sovereign queen before;
Till thanks to giddy chance, which never
bears,
That mortal bliss should last for length of years, She cast us headlong from our high estate, And here in hope of thy return we wait :
And long have waited in the temple nigh,
Built to the gracious goddess Clemency.
But reverence thou the power whose name it
bears,
[tears.
Relieve the oppress'd, and wipe the widow's
I, wretched I, have other fortune seen,
The wife of Capaneus, and once a queen :
At Thebes he fell; curst be the fatal day!
And all the rest thou seest in this array,
To make their moan, their lords in battle lost
Before that town besieg'd by our confederate
host:
But, Creon, old and impious, who commands
The Theban city, and usurps the lands,
Denies the rites of funeral fires to those
Whose breathless bodies yet he calls his focs.
Unburn'd, unburied, on a heap they lie ;
Such is their fate, and such his tyranny;
No friend has leave to bear away the dead,
But with their lifeless limbs his hounds are fed.
At this she shriek'd aloud; the morunful train
Echo'd her grief, and, grovelling on the plain,
With groans, and hands upheld, to move his
mind,
Besought his pity to their helpless kind! [flow,
The prince was touch'd, his tears began to
And, as his tender heart would break in two,
He sigh'd; and could not but their fate deplore,
So wretched now, so fortunate before
Then lightly from his lofty steed he flew,
And raising one by one the suppliant crew,
To comfort each, full solemnly he swore,
That by the faith which knights to knighthood
bore,
And whate'er else to chivalry belongs,
He would not cease, till he reveng'd their
[clar'd;
That Greece should see perform'd what he de-
And cruel Creon find his just reward.
He said no more, but, shunning all delay,
Rode on; nor enter'd Athens on his way;
But left his sister and his queen behind,
And wav'd his royal banner in the wind:
Where in an argent field the god of war
Was drawn triumphant on his iron car;
Red was his sword, and shield, and whole attire,
And all the godhead seem'd to glow with fire;
E'en the ground glitter'd where the standard
flew,
And the green grass was dyed to sanguine hue,
High on his pointed lance his pennon bore
His Cretan fight, the conquer'd Minotaure :
The soldiers shout around with generous rage,
And in that victory their own presage.
He prais'd their ardour; inly pleased to see
His host the flower of Grecian chivalry.
All day he march'd, and all the ensuing night,
And saw the city with returning light.
The process of the war I need not tell,
How Theseus conquer'd, and how Creon fell:
Or after, how by storm the walls were won,
Or how the victor sack'd and burn'd the town:
How to the ladies he restor❜d again
The bodies of their lords in battle slain :
And with what ancient rites they were interr'd
All these to fitter times shall be deferr'd:
I spare the widows' tears, their woful cries,
And howling at their husbands' obsequies;
How Theseus at these funerals did assist,
And with what gifts the mourning dames dis-
miss'd.
Thus when the victor chief had Creon slain, And conquer'd Thebes, he pitch'd upon the plain
His mighty camp, and, when the day return'd,
The country wasted, and the hamlets burn'd,
And left the pillagers, to rapine bred,
Without control to strip and spoil the dead.
There, in a heap of siain, among the rest Two youthful knights they found beneath a
[sent, Of slaughter'd foes, whom first to death they The trophies of their strength, a bloody mo
Both fair, and both of royal blood they seem'd, Whom kinsmen to the crown the heralds deem'd ;
That day in equal arms they fought for fame; Their swords, their shields, their surcoats were
Close by each other laid, they press'd the ground; Their manly bosoms pierc'd with many a
Nor well alive, nor wholly dead they were,
But some faint signs of feeble life appear:
The wand'ring breath was on the wing to part,
Weak was the pulse, and hardly, heav'd the
heart.
These two were sisters' sons; and Arcite one
Much fam'd in fields, with valiant Palamon.
From these their costly arms the spoilers rent,
And softly both convey'd to Theseus' tent;
Whom known of Creon's line, and cur'd 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 ling'ring 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 liv'd, much lov'd, and more renown'd.
But in a tower, and never to be loos'd,
The woful captive kinsmen are inclos'd: [day,
Thus year by year they pass, and day by Till once, 't was 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,
Wak'd, as her custom was, before the day,
To do the observance due to sprightly May:
For sprightly May commands our youth to
keep
gard sleep:
The vigils of her night, and breaks their slug-
Each gentle breast with kindly warmth she
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 requir'd,
With walking giddy, and with thinking tir'd,
He through a little window cast his sight,
Though thick of bars, that gave a scanty
light:
Inspires new flames, revives extinguish'd loves. But e'en that glimmering serv'd him to descry
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 riband did the braided tresses bind,
The rest was loose, and wanton'd in the wind:
Aurora had but newly chas'd 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 :
E'en wond'ring 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 inclos'd within the square,
Where young Emilia took the morning air.
It happen'd Palamon, the prisoner knight,
Restless of woe, arose before the light,
And with his jailor's leave desir'd to breathe
An air more wholsome than the damps be-
neath.
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
'T was 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,
The inevitable charms of Emily. [smart, Scarce had he seen, but seiz'd with sudden Stung to the quick, he felt it at his heart; Struck blind with overpowering light he stood, Then started back amaz'd, and cried aloud.
Young Arcite heard; and up he ran with
To help his friend, and in his arms embrac'd: 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, rul'd our birth,
When all the friendly stars were under earth:
Whate'er betides, by destiny 't is done;
And better bear like men, than vainly seek to
Nor of my bonds, said Palamon again, [shun.
Nor of unhappy planets I complain ;
But when my mortal anguish caus'd my cry,
That moment I was hurt through either eye;
Pierc'd with a random shaft, I faint away,
And perish with insensible decay :
A glance of some new goddess gave the wound,
Whom, like Acteon, unaware I found.
Look how she walks along yon shady space,
Not Juno moves with more majestic grace;
And all the Cyprian queen is in her face.
If thou art Venus (for thy charms confess [less;
That face was formi'd in heaven, nor art thou
Disguis'd in habit, undisguis'd in shape,)
O help us captives from our chains to 'scape;
But if our doom be past in bonds to lie
For life, and in a loathsome dungeon die,
Then be thy wrath appeas'd with our disgrace,
And show compassion to the Theban race,
Oppress'd by tyrant power! While yet he spoke,
Arcite on Emily had fix'd his look;
The fatal dart a ready passage found,
And deep within his heart infix'd the wound:
So that if Palamon were wounded sore,
Arcite was hurt as much as he, or more:
Then from his inmost soul he sigh'd, and said,
The beauty I behold has struck me dead:
Unknowingly she strikes; and kills by chance;
Poison is in her eyes, and death in every glance.
O, I must ask ; nor ask alone, but move
Her mind to mercy, or must die for love.
Thus Arcite and thus Palamon replies, (Eager his tone, and ardent were his eyes.) Speak'st thou in earnest, or in jesting vein? Jesting, said Arcite, suits but ill with pain. It suits far worse (said Palamon again, And bent his brows) with men who honour weigh,
Their faith to break, their friendship to betray;
But worst with thee, of noble lineage born,
My kinsman, and in arms my brother sworn.
Have we not plighted each our holy oath,
That one should be the common good of both;
One soul should both inspire, and neither prove
His fellow's hindrance in pursuit of love?
To this before the gods we gave our hands,
And nothing but our death can break the bands.
This binds thee, then, to further my design:
As I am bound by vow to further thine:
Nor can'st, nor dar'st thou, traitor, on the plain
Appeach my honour, or thine own maintain,
Since thou art of my council, and the friend
Whose faith I trust and on whose care depend:
And wouldst thou court my lady's love, which I
Much rather than release would choose to die?
But thou, false Arcite, never shalt obtain
Thy bad pretence: I told thee first my pain:
For first my love began ere thine was born;
Thou as my council, and my brother sworn,
Art bound to assist my eldership of right,
Or justly to be deem'd a perjur'd knight.
Thus Palamon: but Arcite with disdain
In haughty language thus replied again :
Forsworn thyself: the traitor's odious name
I first return, and then disprove thy claim.
If love be passion, and that passion nurs'd
With strong desires, I lov'd the lady first.
Canst thou pretend desire, whom zeal inflam'd
To worship, and a power celestial nam'd?
Thine was devotion to the blest above,
I saw the woman, and desir'd her love;
First own'd my passion, and to thee commend
The important secret, as my chosen friend,
Suppose (which yet I grant not) thy desire
A moment elder than my rival fire;
Can chance of seeing first thy title prove?
And know'st thou not, no law is made for love;
Law is to things which to free choice relate;
Love is not in our choice, but in our fate;
Laws are but positive; love's power, we see,
Is Nature's sanction, and her first decree.
Each day we break the bond of human lawa
For love, and vindicate the common cause.
Laws for defence of civil rights are plac'd, Love throws the fences down, and makes a general waste:
Maids, widows, wives, without distinction fall; The sweeping deluge, love, comes on, and covers all.
If then the laws of friendship I transgress,
I keep the greater, while I break the less; (sess.
And both are mad alike, since neither can pos-
Both hopeless to be ransom'd, never more
To see the sun, but as he passes o'er.
Like Æsop's hounds contending for the bone,
Each pleaded right, and would be lord alone :
The fruitless fight continued all the day,
A cur came by, and snatch'd the prize away.
As courtiers therefore justle for a grant, [want,
And when they break their frendship, plead their
So thou, if fortune will thy suit advance,
Love on, nor envy me my equal chance :
For I must love, and am resolv'd to try
My fate, or failing in the adventure die. [new'd,
Great was their strife, which hourly was re-
Till each with mortal hate his rival view'd:
Now friends no more, nor walking hand in hand;
But when they met, they made a surly stand;
And glar'd like angry lions as they pass'd,
And wish'd that every look might be their last.
It chanc'd at length, Pirithous came to attend
This worthy Theseus, his familiar friend;
Their love in early infancy began,
And rose as childhood ripen'd into man,
Companions of the war; and lov'd so well,
That when one died, as ancient stories tell,
His fellow to redeem him went to hell.
But to pursue my tale; to welcome home His warlike brother is Pirithous come: [since Arcite of Thebes was known in arms long And honour'd by this young Thessalian prince. Theseus to gratify his friend and guest, Who made our Arcite's freedom his request, Restor❜d to liberty the captive knight, But on these hard conditions I recite: That if hereafter Arcite should be found Within the compass of Athenian ground, By day or night or on whate'er pretence, His head should pay the forfeit of th' offence. To this Pirithous for his friend agreed, And on his promise was the prisoner freed. Unpleas'd and pensive hence he takes his
At his own peril; for his life must pay.
Who now but Arcite mourns his bitter fate,
Finds his dear purchase, and repents too late?
"What have I gain'd," he said," in prison pent,
If I but change my bonds for banishment?
Great was their strife, &c.] These six spirited lines are entirely our author's own, and an improvement on the simple original. J. W.
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