To this Pirithous for his friend agreed,
And on his promise was the prisoner freed.
Unpleas'd and pensive hence he takes his way,
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?
And banish'd from her fight, I fuffer more
In freedom, than I felt in bonds before;
Forc'd from her prefence, and condemn'd to live:
Unwelcome freedom, and unthank'd reprieve:
Heaven is not, but where Emily abides;
And where she's abfent, all is hell befides.
Next to my day of birth, was that accurst,
Which bound my friendship to Pirithous first:
Had I not known that prince, I still had been
In bondage, and had still Emilia seen :
For though I never can her grace deserve,
'Tis recompence enough to see and ferve.
O Palamon, my kinfman and friend,
How much more happy fates thy love attend!
Thine is th' adventure; thine the victory:
Well has thy fortune turn'd the dice for thee:
Thou on that angel's face may'st feed thine eyes,
In prifon, no; but blissful paradife!

my

Thou daily feeft that fun of beauty shine,
And lov'ft at leaft in love's extremeft line.

I mourn

I mourn in abfence, love's eternal night;
And who can tell but fince thou haft her sight,
And art a comely, young, and valiant knight,
Fortune (a various power) may cease to frown,
And by fome ways unknown thy wishes crown?
But I, the most forlorn of human kind,
Nor help can hope, nor remedy can find;
But, doom'd to drag my loathsome life in care,
For my reward, must end it in despair.
Fire, water, air, and earth, and force of fates
That governs all, and heaven that all creates,
Nor art, nor nature's hand can eafe my grief;
Nothing but death, the wretch's laft relief:
Then farewel youth, and all the joys that dwell,
With youth and life, and life itself farewel.

But why, alas! do mortal men in vain
Of fortune, fate, or Providence complain?
God gives us what he knows our wants require,
And better things than those which we desire :
Some pray for riches; riches they obtain;

But, watch'd by robbers, for their wealth are flain;
Some pray from prifon to be freed; and come,
When guilty of their vows, to fall at home;
Murder'd by those they trufted with their life,
A favour'd fervant, or a bofom wife.

Such dear-bought bleffings happen every day,
Because we know not for what things to pray.
Like drunken fots about the street we roam :
Well knows the fot he has a certain home;

Yet knows not how to find th' uncertain place,
And blunders on, and staggers every pace.
Thus all feek happiness; but few can find,
For far the greater part of men are blind.
This is my cafe, who thought our utmoft good.
Was in one word of freedom understood:
The fatal bleffing came: from prifon free,
I ftarve abroad, and lofe the fight of Emily.
Thus Arcite; but if Arcite thus deplore
His fufferings, Palamon yet fuffers more.
For when he knew his rival freed and gone,
He fwells with wrath; he makes outrageous moan:
He frets, he fumes, he ftares, he ftamps the ground;.
The hollow tower with clamours rings around:
With briny tears he bath'd his fetter'd feet,

And dropt all o'er with agony of sweat.

Alas! he cry'd! I wretch in prifon pine,

Too happy rival, while the fruit is thine:
Thou liv'ft at large, thou draw'ft thy native air,
Pleas'd with thy freedom, proud of my despair:
Thou mayft, fince thou haft youth and courage join'd,
A fweet behaviour and a folid mind,

Affemble ours, and all the Theban race,
To vindicate on Athens thy difgrace;
And after, by fome treaty made, poffefs
Fair Emily, the pledge of lafting peace.
So thine fhall be the beauteous prize, while I
Muft languish in despair, in prifon die.
Thus all th' advantage of the ftrife is thine,

Thy portion double joys, and double forrows mine.

The

The rage of Jealousy then fir'd his foul,
And his face kindled like a burning coal :
Now cold Defpair, fucceeding in her ftead,
To livid palenefs turns the glowing red.

His blood, fcarce liquid, creeps within his veins,
Like water which the freezing wind constrains.
Then thus he faid: Eternal Deities,

Who rule the world with abfolute decrees,
And write whatever time fhall bring to pass,
With pens of adamant, on plates of brafs;
What, is the race of human kind your care
Beyond what all his fellow-creatures are?
He with the reft is liable to pain,

And like the fheep, his brother-beast, is flain.
Cold, hunger, prifons, ills without a cure,
All these he muft, and guiltless oft endure;
Or does your juftice, power, or prefcience fail,
When the good fuffer, and the bad prevail?
What worse to wretched virtue could befal,
If fate or giddy fortune govern'd all ?
Nay, worse than other beafts is our eftate;
Them, to purfue their pleafures, you create;
We, bound by harder laws, muft curb our will,
And your commands, not our defires, fulfil;
Then when the creature is unjustly flain,
Yet after death at least he feels no pain;
But man in life furcharg'd with woe before,
Not freed when dead, is doom'd to fuffer more.
A ferpent shoots his fting at unaware;
An ambush'd thief forelays a traveller :
F 4

The

The man lies murder'd, while the thief and fnake,
One gains the thickets, and one thrids the brake.
This let divines decide; but well I know,

Juft or unjust, I have my share of woe,
Through Saturn seated in a luckless place,
And Juno's wrath, that perfecutes my race;
Or Mars and Venus, in a quartil, move
My pangs of jealousy for Arcite's love.
Let Palamon opprefs'd in bondage mourn,
While to his exil'd rival we return.

By this, the fun, declining from his height,
The day had fhorten'd, to prolong the night:
The lengthen'd night gave length of mifery
Both to the captive lover and the free;
For Palamon in endlefs prifon mourns,
And Arcite forfeits life if he returns:
The banish'd never hopes his love to see,
Nor hopes the captive lord his liberty :
"Tis hard to fay who fuffers greater pains :

One fees his love, but cannot break his chains:

One free, and all his motions uncontrol'd,

Beholds whate'er he would, but what he would behold.
Judge as you please, for I will hafte to tell
What fortune to the banish'd knight befel.
When Arcite was to Thebes return'd again,
The lofs of her he lov'd renew'd his pain;
What could be worfe, than never more to fee
His life, his foul, his charming Emily?
He rav'd with all the madness of defpair,

He roar'd, he beat his breaft, he tore his hair.

Dry