Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

Now Theseus all his thought employs and care
That good Arcita's sepulture be fair,
That with all honour it adorned be,
And all the grace of war, that knew antiquity.
He thought it just to have it in that grove,
Both sweet and green, where both the knights for love,
Had keenly fought their passion to approve:
Where Arcite fed his amorous desires,
Where he complain'd, and knew love's burning fires,
In that same grove a fire will he make,
(Of Athens and the world the grief to slake,)
A fire, wherein he may accomplish all
The office of the Theban's funeral.

Anon he gave command to hack and hew
All the old oaks, and they were not a few,
That that old forest in its confines knew;
And lay them in whole trees upon a row,
And transverse, that the fire may justly glow.
His officers with swift feet run, and ride
To fell the mighty oaks throughout the forest wide,
And do all other things, that Theseus may provide.
A bier was had, and over it was spread
The richest cloth of gold the loom can shed;
And loving Theseus clad the good Arcite
In the same cloth of gold, like mid-day, bright;
A melancholy task! a passionate delight!
And on his warlike hands the gloves were white,
And on his head a crown of laurel green,
And in his hand a sword full bright and keen.

He laid him bare the visage on the bier;
Therewith he wept, that pity was to hear,
And for the people should behold him all,
When it was day he brought him to the hall,
That roareth of the crying and the moan.

Then came the woful Theban, Palamon,
With flot'ry beard, and ragged hair, whereon
The mournful ashes ruefully were strown,
In black clothes, dropping all with tears, alone;
And (passing o'er of weeping Emily,)
The ruefullest of all the company.

And that the service shall more noble be,
More rich and equal the dead knight's degree,
Duke Theseus bade the royal grooms to bring
Three pacing steeds fit either for a king,
Trapped in polish'd steel, like lightning, glittering,
All cover'd with the arms of Lord Arcite:
And sat upon those steeds so great and white
The man who bare his shield; the man who bare
His spear up in his hands; the man, who bare
His bow of Turkey, with a duteous care;
(The case of burnt gold and the harness were:)
And rode forth a foot's pace with sorrowful chear
Towards the grove as ye shall after hear.

The noblest of the Greeks, that then were there,
Upon their shoulders bore the golden bier,

With a slack pace, and eyes full wet and red,
And through the main street of the city sped,
All carpetted with black, and wondrous high
The houses hung with black, and clothed mournfully.
Upon the right hand travell'd Ægeus old,
Duke Theseus on the left his way did hold,
With vessels in their hand of gold full fine,
All full of honey, milk, and blood, and wine;
And Palamon, with full great company,
And after that came woful Emily,
And bore the fire in hand, and burning bright,
To do the office of the funeral rite.

Great preparation, and high labour were,
The service of that lighting to prepare,
That the great doleful fire might blaze into the air:
The funeral stage was twenty fathoms broad,
That with his green top, and his verdant load,
Reach'd up into the Heavens, that was Arcite's abode:
A forest for the bed of his remains:
Of straw there first were laid, in base, a hundred wains.

But how the fire was waken'd up on high,
The names of all the trees that there did lie,
As oak, fir, birch, and aspin, alder wet,
Holm, poplar, willow by the rivers set,
Elm, plane, ash, box, and lime-tree, chesnut rich,
Laurel, thorn, maple, hazel, yew, and beech,
And all the general forest growing free,
How they were fell'd shall not be told by me;
Nor how the Gods run up the wood and down,
Spoil'd of their several homes, and of their leafy town;
In which they greenly liv'd in pleasing rest and peace,
The Nymphs, the Fauns, the Hamadryades,
Nor yet how the wild beasts, and the birds all
For fear fled, when the forest 'gan to fall,
Nor how the ground aghast was of the light,
That was not wont to see great Phœbus bright,
Nor how what shall anon be fire was laid
At first with the dry straw, as I have said,
And then with the dry sticks, and cloven in three,
And then with green wood, and with spicery,
And then with cloth of gold, and jewels a bright dower,
And garlands hanging ripe with many a louely flower,

The myrrh, the incense, with sweet odorous bliss,
Nor how Arcita lay amongst all this;
The richness of the world about his body is;
Nor how Emilia touch'd the pile with light,
And did with trembling hands the funeral rite,
And turn'd away her face, and fell in night,
And swoon'd beside the flames, which she had waken'd bright;
Nor what she spoke of prayer and of desire,
Ere yet her knight was wrapped in the fire;
Nor what brave jewels in the fire men cast,
When it was great and broad and burning fast,
Nor how some cast their shield, and some their spear,
And some their vestments, and whate'er was dear,
A chariot wheel, a helmet glist'ring drear,
Cups full of wine, and milk, and blood they had
Into the fire that burnt as it were mad;
Nor how the warlike Greeks, with a huge rout
Three times had ridden all the fire about
On the left hand, and made the heavens to ring,
Thrice shouting, and their spears thrice clattering;

And how the ladies thrice 'gan unto heaven to cry,
Nor how unto her home was helped Emily,
Nor how Arcite is burnt to ashes cold,
Nor how the wake around the fire they hold
All the same night: nor how the Greek men play;
Of all the wake-games hardly can I say;
Who, naked, wrestled best, with oil anointed,
And bare him so he was no way disjointed,
I will not tell, nor yet how all are gone
Home into Athens, when the play is done:
But shortly to the port my course I bend,
And make of my long tale a worthy end.