And thus they ben departed til a-morwe,

When ech of hem hadde leyd his feith to borwe
O Cupide, out of alle charité !

O regne, that wolt no felawe han with the !
Ful soth is seyd, that lovë ne lordschipe
Wol not, his thankes1, han no felaweschipc.
Wel fynden that Arcite and Palamoun.
Arcite is riden anon unto the toun,

And on the morwe, er it were dayës light,
Ful prively two harneys hath he dight,
Bothe suffisaunt and metë to darreyne

2

The batayle in the feeld betwixe hem tweyne.
And on his hors, allone as he was born,
He caryeth al this harneys him byforn;
And in the grove, at tyme and place i-set,
This Arcite and this Palamon ben met.
Tho chaungen gan the colour in here face.
Right as the honter in the regne of Trace
That stondeth at the gappe with a spere,
Whan honted is the lyoun or the bere,
And hereth him come ruschyng in the greves,
And breketh bothë bowës and the leves,
And thinketh, 'Here comth my mortel enemy,
Withoutë faile, he mot3 be deed or I;
For eyther I mot slen him at the gappe,
Or he mot sleen me, if that me myshappe:'
So ferden they, in chaungyng of here hewe,
As fer as everich of hem other knewe.
Ther nas no 'good day,' ne no saluyng;
But streyt withouten word or rehersyng,
Everych of hem halp for to armen other,
As frendly as he were his owen brother;
And after that with scharpë sperës stronge
They foynen ech at other wonder longe.
Thou myghtest wenë that this Palamon
In his fightynge were as a wood lyoun,
And as a cruel tygre was Arcite :

4

That frothen white as foom for irë wood.

Up to the ancle foughte they in her blood.

[The poet describes the Temples of Venus and Mars, where Arcite and Palamon are about to offer their prayers before the final combat.]

First in the temple of Venus maystow se
Wrought on the wal, ful pitous to byholde,
The broken slepës, and the sykës1 colde;
The sacred teerës, and the waymentyng;
The fyry strokës of the desiryng,

That loves servauntz in this lyf enduren;
The othës, that her covenantz assuren.
Plesaunce and hope, desyr, fool-hardynesse,
Beauté and youthë, bauderye, richesse,
Charmës and forcë, lesynges, flaterye,
Dispensë, busynesse, and jelousye,
That werede of yelwe goldes2 a gerland,
And a cokkow sittyng on hir hand;
Festës, instrumentës, caroles, daunces,

Lust and array, and alle the circumstaunces
Of love, whiche that I rekned have and schal,
By ordre weren peynted on the wal.
And mo than I can make of mencioun.
For sothly, al the mount of Citheroun,
Ther3 Venus hath hir principal dwellyng,
Was schewed on the wal in portreying,
With al the gardyn, and the lustynesse.
Nought was foryete the porter Ydelnesse,
Ne Narcisus the fayre of yore agon,
Ne yet the folye of kyng Salamon,
Ne eek the gretë strengthe of Hercules,
Thenchauntëmentz of Médea and Circes,
Ne of Turnus the hardy fiers corage,
The riche Cresus, caytif 5 in servage.
Thus may ye seen that wisdom ne richesse,
Beauté ne sleightë, strengthe, ne hardynesse,

Ne may with Venus holde champartye1,
For as hir list the world than may sche gye2,
Lo, alle thise folk i-caught were in hir las3,
Til they for wo ful often sayde allas.
Sufficeth heer ensamples oon or tuo,

And though I couthe rekne a thousend mo.
The statue of Venus, glorious for to see,
Was naked fletyng" in the largë see,

6

And fro the navel doun al covered was
With wawes grene, and brighte as any glas.
A citole in hir right hond hadde sche,

7

And on hir heed, ful semely for to see,
A rosë garland, fresch and wel smellyng,
Above hir heed hir dowvës flickeryng.
Biforn hir stood hir sonë Cupido,

Upon his schuldres wyngës hadde he two;
And blynd he was, as it is oftë seene;

A bowe he bar and arwes brighte and kene.
Why schulde I nought as wel eek telle you al
The portreiture, that was upon the wal
Withinne the temple of mighty Mars the reede ?
Al peynted was the wal in lengthe and breede
Lik to the estres of the grisly place,

That highte9 the gretë temple of Mars in Trace,
In thilke coldë frosty regioun,

Ther as Mars hath his sovereyn mansioun.
First on the wal was peynted a forest,

In which ther dwelleth neyther man ne best 10,
With knotty knarry bareyne treës olde

Of stubbës scharpe and hidous to byholde;
In which ther ran a swymbel in a swough",
As though a storm schulde bersten every bough:
And downward on an hil under a bente 12,
Ther stood the temple of Marz armypotente,
Wrought al of burned 13 steel, of which thentré

12

3 lace, snare.

6

7

waves.

harp.

10 beast, animal. 11 moaning in a gust.

Was long and streyt1, and gastly for to see.
And therout cam a rage and such a vese2,
That it made al the gates for to rese3.
The northern light in at the dorës schon,
For wyndowe on the wal ne was ther noon,
Thurgh which men mighten any light discerne.
The dore was al of ademaunt eterne,

I-clenched overthwart and endëlong1

With iren tough; and, for to make it strong,
Every piler the temple to susteene

Was tonnë greet, of iren bright and schene.
Ther saugh I first the derke ymaginyng
Of felonye, and al the compassyng;
The cruel ire, as reed as eny gleede;
The pikëpurs, and eek the palë drede;
The smyler with the knyf under the cloke;

7

The schepne brennyng with the blakë smoke ;
The tresoun of the murtheryng in the bed;
The open werre, with woundës al bi-bled;

9

10

12

Contek with bloody knyf, and scharp manace.
Al ful of chirkyng was that sory place.
The sleëre of himself" yet saugh I there,
His hertë-blood hath bathëd al his here;
The nayl y-dryven in the schode 12 a-nyght;
The colde deth, with mouth gapyng upright.
Amyddës of the temple sat meschaunce,
With disconfort and sory contenaunce,
Yet saugh I woodnesse 13 laughying in his rage;
Armed complaint, outhees 1, and fiers outrage.
The caroigne 15 in the bussh, with throte y-corve
A thousand slain, and not of qualme y-storve
The tiraunt, with the prey by force y-raft 18;
The toun destroyed, ther was no thyng laft.
Yet sawgh I brent 19 the schippes hoppesteres 20;
3 shake.

1 strait, narrow.

downwards.

• burning.

13 madness. sickness.

• rush.
5 great as a tun.

• live coal.

11 suicide.

16 cut.

17

16

4

20 the dancing ships.

:

across and 7 stable.

12 temple.

17 dead of

The huntë' strangled with the wilde beres 2:
The sowe freten3 the child right in the cradel ;
The cook i-skalded, for al his longe ladel.

4

5

Nought was foryete by the infortune of Marte;
The cartere over-ryden with his carte,

Under the whel ful lowe he lay adoun.

Ther were also of Martes divisioun,

The barbour, and the bocher; and the smyth
That forgeth scharpë swerdës on his stith
And al above depeynted' in a tour

Saw I conquést sittyng in gret honour,
With the scharpë swerd over his heed
Hangynge by a sotil twynës threed.

GOOD COUNSEIL OF CHAUCER.

Fle fro the pres, and dwelle with sothfastnesse ;
Suffice thee thy good, though hit be smal;
For hord hath hate, and clymbyng tikelnesse9,
Pres hath envye, and wele blent over al1o.
Savour no more then thee behovë shal;
Do wel thy-self that other folk canst rede,
And trouthe thee shal delyver, hit ys no drede ".

Peynë thee not eche croked to redresse
In trust of hir that turneth as a bal12,

Gret restë stant in lytil besynesse ;
Bewar also to spurne ayein a nal13,

Stryve not as doth a crokke with a wal1;
Dauntë thy-selfe that dauntest otheres dede,
And trouthe thee shal delyver, hit is no drede.