again,
Foreshows the love allotted to remain: 280
Farewell! she said, and vanish'd from the place;
The sheaf of arrows shook, and rattled in the case.
Aghast at this, the royal virgin stood,
Disclaim'd, and now no more a sister of the wood:
But to the parting goddess thus she pray'd:
Propitious still be present to my aid,
Nor quite abandon your once favour'd maid.
Then sighing she return'd; but smiled betwixt,
With hopes and fears, and joys with sorrows mix'd.

The next returning planetary hour 290
Of Mars, who shared the heptarchy of power,
His steps bold Arcite to the temple bent,
To adore with Pagan rites the power armipotent:
Then prostrate, low before his altar lay,
And raised his manly voice, and thus began to pray:

Strong God of arms, whose iron sceptre sways
The freezing North, and Hyperborean seas,
And Scythian colds, and Thracia's wintry coast,
Where stand thy steeds, and thou art honour'd most!
There most; but everywhere thy power is known, 300
The fortune of the fight is all thy own:
Terror is thine, and wild amazement, flung
From out thy chariot, withers even the strong:
And disarray and shameful rout ensue,
And force is added to the fainting crew.
Acknowledged as thou art, accept my prayer,
If aught I have achieved deserve thy care:
If to my utmost power, with sword and shield,
I dared the death, unknowing how to yield,
And falling in my rank, still kept the field: 310
Then let my arms prevail, by thee sustain'd,
That Emily by conquest may be gain'd.
Have pity on my pains; nor those unknown
To Mars, which, when a lover, were his own.
Venus, the public care of all above,
Thy stubborn heart has soften'd into love:
Now, by her blandishments and powerful charms,
When yielded she lay curling in thy arms,
Even by thy shame, if shame it may be call'd,
When Vulcan had thee in his net enthrall'd; 320
(Oh, envied ignominy, sweet disgrace,
When every god that saw thee wish'd thy place!)
By those dear pleasures, aid my arms in fight,
And make me conquer in my patron's right:
For I am young, a novice in the trade,
The fool of love, unpractised to persuade:
And want the soothing arts that catch the fair,
But, caught myself, lie struggling in the snare:
And she I love, or laughs at