Close by each other laid, they press’d the ground,
  Their manly bosoms pierced with many a grisly wound; 150
  Nor well alive, nor wholly dead they were,
  But some faint signs of feeble life appear: 
  The wandering breath was on the wing to part,
  Weak was the pulse, and hardly heaved the heart. 
  These two were sisters’ sons; and Arcite one
  Much famed in fields, with valiant Palamon. 
  From these their costly arms the spoilers rent,
  And softly both convey’d to Theseus’ tent: 
  Whom, known of Creon’s line, and cured with care,
  He to his city sent as prisoners of the war, 160
  Hopeless of ransom, and condemn’d to lie
  In durance, doom’d a lingering death to die. 
  This done, he march’d away with warlike sound,
  And to his Athens turn’d, with laurels crown’d,
  Where happy long he lived, much loved, and more renown’d. 
  But in a tower, and never to be loosed,
  The woful captive kinsmen are enclosed.

    Thus year by year they pass, and day by day,
  Till once, ’twas on the morn of cheerful May,
  The young Emilia, fairer to be seen 170
  Than the fair lily on the flowery green,
  More fresh than May herself in blossoms new,
  For with the rosy colour strove her hue,
  Waked, as her custom was, before the day,
  To do the observance due to sprightly May: 
  For sprightly May commands our youth to keep
  The vigils of her night, and breaks their sluggard sleep;
  Each gentle breast with kindly warmth she moves;
  Inspires new flames, revives extinguish’d loves. 
  In this remembrance, Emily, ere day, 180
  Arose, and dress’d herself in rich array;
  Fresh as the month, and as the morning fair: 
  Adown her shoulders fell her length of hair: 
  A riband did the braided tresses bind,
  The rest was loose and wanton’d in the wind. 
  Aurora had but newly chased the night,
  And purpled o’er the sky with blushing light,
  When to the garden walk she took her way,
  To sport and trip along in cool of day,
  And offer maiden vows in honour of the May. 190

    At every turn, she made a little stand,
  And thrust among the thorns her lily hand
  To draw the rose, and every rose she drew
  She shook the stalk, and brush’d away the dew: 
  Then party-colour’d flowers of white and red
  She wove, to make a garland for her head: 
  This done, she sung and caroll’d out so clear,
  That men and angels might rejoice to hear: 
  Even wondering Philomel forgot to sing;
  And learn’d from her to welcome in the spring. 200
  The tower, of which before was mention made,
  Within whose keep the captive knights were laid,
  Built of a large extent, and strong withal,
  Was one partition of the palace wall;
  The garden was enclosed within the square
  Where young Emilia took the morning air.