While the knights were gone away
Theseus, to accommodate
Their combat, paid uncommon wages
To his most accomplished masons
Who patiently went on to make
A theatre so strong and great
With marble carvings on the gate
That all who looked upon the place
Did so with an astonished face
So much that structure shone with grace
As did the Duke, whose honoured state
Demanded that he dominate
Now, on the long awaited day
That they’d agreed upon in May
Arcite and Palamon did make
Their somber way there to exonerate
Their honour and confront their fate
Early Palamon did wake that day
And went to pray and pay respects at
The statue of Venus they’d erected
Standing in a temple decked with
Likenesses of all the reckless
Souls who love had misdirected
Here's Palamon’s prayer to Venus:
“Venus, I’ve come to ask if we
Might declare war on chastity!
My love is near capacity
And Emilye just laughs at me
Let me posses her passively
Or let me die disastrously!”
And at these fervent words he
Was assured that she had heard his plea
For currently he was unnerved to see
The statue of her stir to re-
Assure him he deserved to be
Unburdened, free of urgency
And as her faithful servant he
Inferred from these occurrences he
Was meant to be the first to see
His Emilye no virgin be
Palamon returned with glee
So sure was he that worthy Venus
Had averted the emergency
Emilye then went to see
Diane and prayed, and gave some words to
Try and save her maiden virtue
Here's Emilye’s prayer to Diana the goddess of chastity:
“Diane, you know that I am wild;
I have no wish to be defiled
By the hand of man, or got with child
Therefore, I pray, be mild;
Don’t let my honour be beguiled!”
The altar fires burning, in plain English
At her pious yearning were extinguished
Emilye, unsinged, just stared with dread
As Diane reached out her hand, and there she bled
Upon her servant’s weary head;
The blood of virgins, cherry-red
“Let it now be clearly said
You will soon see your marriage bed!”
In response to this rejection
Emilye asked a simple question:
“Well then what good is your protection
If I fall prey to some erection?”
This was indeed a harsh defeat
For Emilye, both stark and bleak
But rather let me start to speak
Of the brave-hearted Arcite
Who laid himself so artfully
To pray for help at Mars’ feet
Here's Arcite’s prayer to Mars:
“Strong God, in this degree
I know you know the mysteries
Of love, and my sad history
In spite of all my misery
My love no pity gives to me;
Therefore, if I am fit to be
Your knight, grant me this victory!”
At this, the statue ripped free
From its foundations viciously
And said: “Since you give to me
Such devotion, it’s agreed
Soon I shall grant this to thee!”
Now the gods, who must be honest
Had in their wisdom justly promised
Arcite, here perhaps the strongest
Triumph in the fight, along with
Palamon, no doubt the fondest
True love, as we see in sonnets
I now shall tell you straight how on this
Day in May it was accomplished
Theseus, who was provider
Of the venue, and presider
Over it, was seated higher
Where his Queen by all was seen
With Emilye beside her
Arcite, a worthy fighter
Attacked his brother like a tiger
And Palamon, alike a lion
With equal fierceness did defy him
The first, though not for lack of tryin’
Could no fatal blow get by him
But then, to Palamon’s poor luck
Arcite’s knight behind him snuck
And stuck a spear into his gut;
Though far from mortal was the cut
It was enough; Arcite struck
And Palamon, too hurt to duck
Was knocked down, and dropped in shock
Onto the rocky ground
Not a sound
Nor any talk was found among the crowd
‘Til Theseus declared aloud:
“Arcite is the victor proud
And Emilye, as I avowed
To thee shall now be well-endowed!”
Arcite’s happiness exploded
In him, and he rose and showed it
As above his foe he gloated
Crowed and boasted and show-boated
‘Til the Gods were overloaded
With his pride, and so they smote it;
Arcite, with a blow demoted
Fell onto his dome and broke it
His sorrow overflowed there; dying
He pronounced his woes, where crying
Showed he’d go with no denying
That his soul was slowly rising
And he left, while still professing
Love, and gave them both his blessing
While requesting Emilye to be accepting
Since he would in death be resting
Of Palamon, the next best thing
Then back his broken head he laid
And gave his final spoken praise:
“Mercy, Emilye!”
The gentle maid then in the ways
Of Athens, set the corpse ablaze
And scorched away the source that makes
A mortal shape, and prayed his soul
Its course through heaven’s portal take
In order to at least dispel
The sorrow which in Greece did swell
The moment that Arcite fell
Theseus released his will:
“Why should his wife and cousin grieve?
Arcite is gone, yet doesn’t he
Deserve to see his love in thee
Alive, from up above, in peace?
Thus Palamon and Emilye
Shall wed, if they my judgement heed!”
And since his wishes carried weight
The two, with kisses, married straight
And Palamon, though very late
Did wear his bliss with a merry face
‘Cause he could barely wait
To take away her cherry state;
And Emilye took care she made
A loving wife, and rarely gave
Advice and, looking fair, obeyed;
And nothing more is there to say
About this strange affair, good day!
