His vows addressed, within the grove he strayed, } Till Fate, or Fortune, near the place conveyed } His steps where secret Palamon was laid. } Full little thought of him the gentle knight, } Who, flying death, had there concealed his flight, } In brakes and brambles hid, and shunning mortal sight; } And less he knew him for his hated foe, But feared him as a man he did not know. But as it has been said of ancient years, That fields are full of eyes, and woods have ears, For this the wise are ever on their guard, For, unforeseen, they say, is unprepared. Uncautious Arcite thought himself alone, And less than all suspected Palamon, Who, listening, heard him, while he searched the grove, And loudly sung his roundelay of love. But on the sudden stopped, and silent stood, As lovers often muse, and change their mood; Now high as heaven, and then as low as hell, Now up, now down, as buckets in a well: For Venus, like her day, will change her cheer, And seldom shall we see a Friday clear. Thus Arcite having sung, with altered hue Sunk on the ground, and from his bosom drew A desperate sigh, accusing Heaven and Fate, And angry Juno's unrelenting hate:-- Cursed be the day when first I did appear! } Let it be blotted from the calendar, } Lest it pollute the month, and poison all the year. } Still will the jealous queen pursue our race? Cadmus is dead, the Theban city was: Yet ceases not her hate; for all, who come From Cadmus, are involved in Cadmus' doom. I suffer for my blood: unjust decree! That punishes another's crime on me. In mean estate, I serve my mortal foe, The man who caused my country's overthrow. This is not all; for Juno, to my shame, } Has forced me to forsake my former name; } Arcite I was, Philostratus I am. } That side of heaven is all my enemy; Mars ruined Thebes; his mother[151] ruined me. Of all the royal race remains but one, Besides myself, the unhappy Palamon, Whom Theseus holds in bonds, and will not free; Without a crime, except his kin to me. Yet these, and all the rest, I could endure; But love's a malady without a cure: Fierce Love has pierced me with his fiery dart; He fries within, and hisses at my heart. Your eyes, fair Emily, my fate pursue; I suffer for the rest, I die for you. Of such a goddess no time leaves record, Who burned the temple where she was adored: And let it burn, I never will complain, Pleased with my sufferings, if you knew my pain.-- At this, a sickly qualm his heart assailed, His ears ring inward, and his senses failed. No word missed Palamon, of all he spoke; But soon to deadly pale he changed his look: He trembled every limb, and felt a smart, As if cold steel had glided through his heart; Nor longer staid, but, starting from his place,