And thus, among themselves, they softly said:-- What eyes can suffer this unworthy sight! Two youths of royal blood, renowned in fight, The mastership of heaven in face and mind, And lovers, far beyond their faithless kind: See their wide-streaming wounds; they neither came For pride of empire, nor desire of fame: Kings fight for kingdoms, madmen for applause; But love for love alone, that crowns the lover's cause.-- This thought, which ever bribes the beauteous kind, Such pity wrought in every lady's mind, They left their steeds, and, prostrate on the place, From the fierce king implored the offenders' grace. He paused a while, stood silent in his mood; For yet his rage was boiling in his blood: But soon his tender mind the impression felt, As softest metals are not slow to melt, And pity soonest runs in gentle minds:[152] Then reasons with himself; and first he finds His passion cast a mist before his sense, And either made, or magnified, the offence. Offence! of what? to whom? who judged the cause? The prisoner freed himself by Nature's laws: Born free, he sought his right; the man he freed Was perjured, but his love excused the deed: Thus pondering, he looked under with his eyes, And saw the women's tears, and heard their cries; Which moved compassion more: he shook his head, And softly, sighing, to himself he said:-- Curse on the unpardoning prince, whom tears can draw To no remorse; who rules by lions' law; And, deaf to prayers, by no submission bowed, Rends all alike, the penitent and proud!-- At this, with look serene, he raised his head; Reason resumed her place, and passion fled. Then thus aloud he spoke:--The power of Love, In earth, and seas, and air, and heaven above, Rules, unresisted, with an awful nod; By daily miracles declared a god: He blinds the wise, gives eye-sight to the blind, And moulds and stamps anew the lover's mind. Behold that Arcite, and this Palamon, Freed from my fetters, and in safety gone, What hindered either, in their native soil, At ease to reap the harvest of their toil? But Love, their lord, did otherwise ordain, And brought them in their own despite again, To suffer death deserved; for well they know, 'Tis in my power, and I their deadly foe. The proverb holds,--that to be wise, and love, Is hardly granted to the gods above. See how the madmen bleed! behold the gains With which their master, Love, rewards their pains! For seven long years, on duty every day, Lo their obedience, and their monarch's pay: Yet, as in duty bound, they serve him on; And, ask the fools, they think it wisely done; Nor ease, nor wealth, nor life itself, regard; For 'tis their maxim,--Love is love's reward. This is not all,--the fair, for whom they strove, Nor knew before, nor could suspect their love, Nor thought, when she beheld the fight from far, Her beauty was the occasion of the war.