of ire,

The ancient wrath of Juno to fulfil,
Had set the nations' mutual hearts on fire
In Thebes and Argos, (so that each
would kill

Either with bloody spears,) grew never still

But rushed now here, now there, among them both,

good.

XIII

The Theban knight eke, to give all their due,

Was young, and therewithal a lusty knight.

But he was double in love, and nothing true,

Aye, subtler in that craft than any wight, And with his cunning won this lady bright;

So working on her simpleness of nature, That she him trusted above every creature.

XIV

What shall I say? She loved Arcite so, That if at any hour he parted from her, Her heart seemed ready anon to burst in two;

For he with lowliness had overcome her: She thought she knew the heart which did foredoom her.

But he was false, and all that softness feigning,-

I trow men need not learn such arts of paining.

XV

And ne'ertheless full mickle business Had he, before he might his lady win,He swore that he should die of his distress,

His brain would madden with the fire within!

Alas, the while! for it was ruth and sin, That she, sweet soul, upon his grief should rue;

But little reckon false hearts as the true.

XVI

And she to Arcite so subjected her, That all she did or had seemed his of right:

No creature in her house met smile or cheer,

Further than would be pleasant to Arcite; There was no lack whereby she did despite

To his least will-for hers to his was bent,

XX

When she would eat he stole away her thought,

Till little thought for food, I ween, was kept;

And when a time for rest the midnight brought,

She always mused upon him till she slept,

her content.

All which with so much sweetness suffered she,

Whate'er he willed she thought the wisest thing;

And evermore she loved him tenderly, And did him honour as he were a king. Her heart was wedded to him with a ring,

So eager to be faithful and intent,

despair.

And having so betrayed her, false Arcite Feigned more, that primal wrong to justify.

A vicious horse will snort besides his bite;

And so he taunted her with treachery, Swearing he saw thro' her duplicity, And how she was not loving, but falsehearted

went.

E

departed.

XXIV

Alas, alas, what heart could suffer it, For ruth, the story of her grief to tell? What thinker hath the cunning and the

wit

To image it? what hearer, strength to dwell

A room's length off, while I rehearse the

hell

Suffered by Queen Annelida the fair For false Arcite, who worked her this despair?

XXV

XXVIII

She drove him forth-she scarcely deigned to know

That he was servant to her ladyship: But, lest he should be proud, she kept him low,

Nor paid his service from a smiling lip: She sent him now to land, and now to ship;

And giving him all danger to his fill,
She thereby had him at her sovereign will.

XXIX

Be taught of this, ye prudent women all,

ously;

She falleth on the earth dead as a stone; Her graceful limbs are cramped convulsively;

She speaketh out wild, as her wits were

Because she chose, himself, 'dear heart'

Heaven save

The wronged) the thing they cannot, they would have.

XXX

Now turn we to Annelida again,
Who pinèd day by day in languishment.
But when she saw no comfort met her
pain,

Weeping once in a woful unconstraint,
She set herself to fashion a complaint,
Which with her own pale hand she 'gan
to write,

And sent it to her lover, to Arcite.

THE COMPLAINT OF ANNELIDA TO FALSE ARCITE

I

The sword of sorrow, whetted sharp for

me

On false delight, with point of memory Stabbed so mine heart, bliss-bare and black of hue,

That all to dread is turned my dance's glee,

My face's beauty to despondency-
For nothing it availeth to be true-
And, whosoever is so, she shall rue
Obeying love, and cleaving faithfully
Alway to one, and changing for no new.