Among his Menial Servants first enroll'd,
And largely entertain'd with Sums of Gold:
Besides what secretly from Thebes was fent,
Of his own Income, and his Annual Rent.
This well employ'd, he purchas'd Friends and
Fame,
But cautiously conceal'd from whence it came.
Thus for three Years he liv'd with large Increase,
In Arms of Honour, and Esteem in Peace;
To Theseus Person he was ever near,
And Theseus for his Virtues held him dear,
The End of the First Book.
Hile Arcite lives in Bliss, the Story
Where hopeless Palamon in Prifon
For fix long Years immur'd, the captive Knight
Had dragg'd his Chains, and scarcely seen the Light:
Loft Liberty, and Love at once he bore;
His Prison pain'd him much, his Passion more:
Nor dares he hope his Fetters to remove,
Nor ever wishes to be free from Love.
But when the fixth revolving Year was run, And May within the Twins receiv'd the Sun, Were it by Chance, or forceful Destiny, Which forms in Causes first whate'er shall be, Assisted by a Friend one Moonless Night, This Palamon from Prison took his Flight: A pleasant Beverage he prepar'd before Of Wine and Honey mix'd, with added Store Of Opium; to his Keeper this he brought, Who swallow'd unaware the sleepy Draught, And fnor'd secure till Morn, his Senfes bound In Slumber, and in long Oblivion drown'd. Short was the Night, and careful Palamon Sought the next Covert ere the Rising Sun. A thick spread Foreft near the City lay, To this with lengthen'd Strides he took his way, (For far he cou'd not fly, and fear'd the Day:)) Safe from Pursuit, he meant to shun the Light, Till the brown Shadows of the friendly Night To Thebes might favour his intended Flight. When to his Country come, his next Defign Was all the Theban Race in Arms to join,
And war on Theseus, till he lost his Life,
Or won the Beauteous Emily to Wife.
Thus while his Thoughts the lingring Day beguile,
To gentle Arcite let us turn our Style;
Who little dreamt how nigh he was to Care,
Till treach'rous Fortune caught him in the Snare.
The Morning-Lark, the Messenger of Day,
Saluted in her Song the Morning gray;
And foon the Sun arose with Beams so bright,
That all th'Horizon laugh'd to see the joyousSight;
He with his tepid Rays the Rose renews,
And licks the drooping Leaves, and dries the Dews;
When Arcite left his Bed, resolv'd to pay
Observance to the Month of merry May:
Forth on his fiery Steed betimes he rode,
That scarcely prints the Turf on which he trod:
At ease he seem'd, and pransing o'er the Plains,
Turn'd only to the Grove his Horses Reins,
The Grove I nam'd before; and lighted there,
A Woodbind Garland fought to crown his Hair;
Then turn'd his Face against the rising Day,
And rais'd his Voice to welcome in the May.
For thee, sweetMonth, the Groves green Liv'ries
If not the first, the fairest of the Year:
For thee the Graces lead the dancing Hours,
And Nature's ready Pencil paints the Flow'rs:
When thy short Reign is past, the Fev'rish Sun
The sultry Tropick fears, and moves more flowly on.
So may thy tender Blossoms fear no Blite,
Nor Goats with venom'd Teeth thy Tendrils bite,
As thou shalt guide my wandring Feet to find
The fragrant Greens I seek, my Brows to bind.
His Vows address'd, within the Grove he
stray'd,
Till Fate, or Fortune, near the Place convey'd
His Steps where secret Palamon was laid.
Full little thought of him the gentle Knight,
Who flying Death had there conceal'd his Flight,
In Brakes and Brambles hid, and shunning Mor-
And less he knew him for his hated Foe,
But fear'd 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;
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