The Works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 12. John Dryden

I cam never I cannot tellen wher;

      Therefore I stent, I am no divinistre;

      Of soules find I not in this registre:

      Ne me lust not the opinions to telle

      Of hem, though that they written wher they dwelle.

      Arcite is cold, ther Mars his soule gie.

      Now wol I speken forth of Emelie.

      Shright Emelie, and houleth Palamon,

      And Theseus his sister toke anon

      Swouning, and bare her from the corps away.

      What helpeth it to tarien forth the day,

      To tellen how she wepe both even and morwe?

      For in swiche cas wimmen have swiche sorwe,

      Whan that hir hosbonds ben fro hem ago,

      That for the more part they sorwen so,

      Or elles fallen in swiche maladie,

      That atte last certainly they die.

      Infinite ben the sorwes and the teres

      Of olde folk, and folk of tendre yeres,

      In all the toun, for deth of this Theban;

      For him ther wepeth bothe child and man:

      So gret weping was ther non certain,

      Whan Hector was ybrought, all fresh yslain,

      To Troie: Alas! the pitee that was there;

      Cratching of chekes, rending eke of here.

      Why woldest thou be ded, thise women crie,

      And haddest gold ynough, and Emelie?

      No man might gladen this Duk Theseus,

      Saving his olde fader Egeus,

      That knew this worldes transmutation,

      As he had seen it chaungen up and doun,

      Joye after wo, and wo after gladnesse,

      And shewed him ensample and likenesse.

      Right as ther died never man, (quod he,)

      That he ne lived in erth in som degree,

      Right so ther lived never man, (he seyd,)

      In all this world, that somtime he ne deyd:

      This world n'is but a thurghfare, ful of wo,

      And we ben pilgrimes, passing to and fro:

      Deth is an end of every worldes sore

      And over all this yet said he mochel more,

      To this effect, ful wisely to enhort

      The peple, that they shuld hem recomfort.

      Duk Theseus, with all his besy cure,

      He casteth now, wher that the sepulture

      Of good Arcite may best ymaked be,

      And eke most honourable in his degree;

      And at the last he toke conclusion,

      That ther as first Arcite and Palamon

      Hadden for love the bataille hem betwene,

      That in that selve grove, sote and grene,

      Ther as he hadde his amorous desires,

      His complaint, and for love his hote fires;

      He wold make a fire, in which the office

      Of funeral he might all accomplise;

      And let anon commande to hack and hewe

      The okes old, and lay hem on a rew

      In culpons, wel arraied for to brenne.

      His officers with swifte feet they renne

      And ride anon at his commandement.

      And after this, this Theseus hath sent

      After a bere, and it all overspradde

      With cloth of gold, the richest that he hadde;

      And of the same suit he cladde Arcite.

      Upon his hondes were his gloves white,

      Eke on his hed a croune of laurer grene,

      And in his hond a swerd ful bright and kene.

      He laid him bare the visage on the bere,

      Therwith he wept that pitee was to here;

      And for the peple shulde seen him alle,

      Whan it was day, he brought him to the halle,

      That roreth of the crying, and the soun.

      Tho came this woful Theban, Palamon,

      With flotery berd, and ruggy ashy heres,

      In clothes blake, ydropped all with teres,

      And (passing over of weping Emelie)

      The reufullest of all the compagnie.

      And in as much as the service shuld be

      The more noble, and riche in his degree,

      Duk Theseus let forth three stedes bring,

      That trapped were in stele all glittering,

      And covered with the armes of Dan Arcite;

      And eke upon these stedes, gret and white,

      Ther saten folk, of which on bare his sheld,

      Another his spere up in his hondes held;

      The thridde bare with him his bow Turkeis,

      Of brent gold was the cas and the harneis;

      And riden forth a pas with sorweful chere

      Toward the groue, as ye shal after here.

      The noblest of the Grekes that ther were

      Upon hir shuldres carrieden the bere,

      With slacke pas, and eyen red and wete,

      Thurghout the citee, by the maister strete,

      That sprad was al with black, and wonder hie,

      Right of the same is all the strete ywrie.

      Upon the right hand went olde Egeus,

      And on the other side, Duk Theseus,

      With vessels in hir hond of gold ful fine,

      All ful of hony, milk, and blood, and wine;

      Eke Palamon, with ful gret compagnie,

      And after that came woful Emelie,

      With fire in hond, as was that time the gise,

      To don the office of funeral service.

      High labour and ful gret apparailling

      Was at the service of that fire making,

      That with his grene top the heaven raught,

      And twenty fadom of bred the armes straught;

      This is to sain, the boughes were so brode,

      Of stre first ther was laied many a lode.

      But how the fire was maked up on highte,

      And eke the names how the trees highte,

      As oke, fir, birch, aspe, alder, holm, poplere,

      Wilow, elm, plane, ash, box, chestein, lind, laurere,

      Maple, thorn, beche, hasel, ew, whipultre,

      How they were feld, shal not be told for me;

      Ne how the goddes rannen up and doun,

      Disherited of hir habitatioun;

      In which they woneden in rest and pees,

      Nimphes, Faunes, and Amidriades;

      Ne how the bestes, and the birddes alle

      Fledden for fere whan the wood gan falle;

      Ne how the ground agast