HKB
I put me under thy protection, Diane, and in thy disposition.” And home she went anon the nexte* way. *nearest This is th’ effect, there is no more to say.
The nexte hour of Mars following this Arcite to the temple walked is Of fierce Mars, to do his sacrifice With all the rites of his pagan guise. With piteous* heart and high devotion pious Right thus to Mars he said his orison “O stronge god, that in the regnes old realms Of Thrace honoured art, and lord y-hold held And hast in every regne, and every land Of armes all the bridle in thine hand, And them fortunest as thee list devise, send them fortune Accept of me my piteous sacrifice. as you please If so be that my youthe may deserve, And that my might be worthy for to serve Thy godhead, that I may be one of thine, Then pray I thee to rue upon my pine, pity my anguish For thilke pain, and thilke hote fire, that In which thou whilom burned’st for desire Whenne that thou usedest the beauty enjoyed Of faire young Venus, fresh and free, And haddest her in armes at thy will: And though thee ones on a time misfill, were unlucky When Vulcanus had caught thee in his las, net <69> And found thee ligging by his wife, alas! lying For thilke sorrow that was in thine heart, Have ruth as well upon my paine’s smart. pity I am young and unconning, as thou know’st, ignorant, simple And, as I trow, with love offended most believe That e’er was any living creature: For she, that doth me all this woe endure, causes Ne recketh ne’er whether I sink or fleet swim And well I wot, ere she me mercy hete, promise, vouchsafe I must with strengthe win her in the place: And well I wot, withoute help or grace Of thee, ne may my strengthe not avail: Then help me, lord, to-morr’w in my bataille, For thilke fire that whilom burned thee, As well as this fire that now burneth me; And do that I to-morr’w may have victory. cause Mine be the travail, all thine be the glory. Thy sovereign temple will I most honour Of any place, and alway most labour In thy pleasance and in thy craftes strong. And in thy temple I will my banner hong, hang And all the armes of my company, And evermore, until that day I die, Eternal fire I will before thee find And eke to this my vow I will me bind: My beard, my hair that hangeth long adown, That never yet hath felt offension *indignity Of razor nor of shears, I will thee give, And be thy true servant while I live. Now, lord, have ruth upon my sorrows sore, Give me the victory, I ask no more.”
The prayer stint* of Arcita the strong, ended The ringes on the temple door that hong, And eke the doores, clattered full fast, Of which Arcita somewhat was aghast. The fires burn’d upon the altar bright, That it gan all the temple for to light; A sweete smell anon the ground up gaf, gave And Arcita anon his hand up haf, lifted And more incense into the fire he cast, With other rites more and at the last The statue of Mars began his hauberk ring; And with that sound he heard a murmuring Full low and dim, that saide thus, “Victory.” For which he gave to Mars honour and glory. And thus with joy, and hope well to fare, Arcite anon unto his inn doth fare. As fain as fowl is of the brighte sun. *glad