Текст песни: The Knight's Tale (Scene 3) + перевод

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!