Unpleased and pensive hence he takes his way,
  At his own peril; for his life must pay. 380
  Who now but Arcite mourns his bitter fate,
  Finds his dear purchase, and repents too late? 
  What have I gain’d, he said, in prison pent,
  If I but change my bonds for banishment? 
  And banish’d from her sight, I suffer more
  In freedom than I felt in bonds before;
  Forced from her presence, and condemn’d to live: 
  Unwelcome freedom, and unthank’d reprieve! 
  Heaven is not, but where Emily abides,
  And where she’s absent, all is hell besides. 390
  Next to my day of birth, was that accursed,
  Which bound my friendship to Pirithous first: 
  Had I not known that prince, I still had been
  In bondage, and had still Emilia seen: 
  For though I never can her grace deserve,
  ’Tis recompence enough to see and serve. 
  O Palamon, my kinsman and my friend,
  How much more happy fates thy love attend! 
  Thine is the adventure; thine the victory: 
  Well has thy fortune turn’d the dice for thee:  400
  Thou on that angel’s face may’st feed thine eyes,
  In prison, no; but blissful paradise! 
  Thou daily seest that sun of beauty shine,
  And lovest at least in love’s extremest line. 
  I mourn in absence, love’s eternal night;
  And who can tell but since thou hast her sight,
  And art a comely, young, and valiant knight,
  Fortune (a various power) may cease to frown,
  And by some ways unknown thy wishes crown? 
  But I, the most forlorn of human kind, 410
  Nor help can hope, nor remedy can find;
  But doom’d to drag my loathsome life in care,
  For my reward, must end it in despair. 
  Fire, water, air, and earth, and force of fates,
  That governs all, and Heaven that all creates,
  Nor art, nor nature’s hand can ease my grief;
  Nothing but death, the wretch’s last relief: 
  Then farewell youth, and all the joys that dwell,
  With youth and life, and life itself farewell!

    But why, alas! do mortal men in vain 420
  Of fortune, fate, or Providence complain? 
  God gives us what he knows our wants require,
  And better things than those which we desire: 
  Some pray for riches; riches they obtain;
  But, watch’d by robbers, for their wealth are slain: 
  Some pray from prison to be freed; and come,
  When guilty of their vows, to fall at home;
  Murder’d by those they trusted with their life,
  A favour’d servant, or a bosom wife. 
  Such dear-bought blessings happen every day, 430
  Because we know not for what things to pray. 
  Like drunken sots about the street we roam;
  Well knows the sot he has a certain home;
  Yet knows not how to find the uncertain place,