The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse
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CAP. VIII
Quhou that fers Turnus has ȝong Pallas slane,For quham hys folkis makis gret dolour and mayn.Duryng this fervour of the bargane swa,The haly nymphe, clepit Juturna,Hir brother Turnus dyd monys and exhortTo succur Lawsus, and hys folk support;The quhilk Turnus, as in hys spedy charThe myd rowtis went sloppand heir and thar,Beheld hys ferys debatand with Pallas:Lo, now is tyme to desist, and lat pasAll sic bargane, quod he; cessis in hy;For I will set on Pallas anerly;Only to me, and to nane other wight,The victory pertenys of sik a knycht;Glaidly I wald hys fader stude heirby,This interprys to dereyn and aspy.Thus said he, and hys feris at commandVoydit the feild, and all plane left the land.Than ȝong Pallas, seand RutylianysWithdraw the feild sa swith, and rovm the planys,At the prowd byddyng of thar prynce and kyng,Amervellit full gretly of this thing,And farly can on Turnus to behald,Our all hys bustuus body, as he wald,Rollyng hys eyn, and all hys corps in hyWith thrawyn luke on far begouth aspy;Syne movyng fordwart, with sic wordis on hie,To answer Turnus speche, thus carpys he:Owthir now, quod he, for ay be lovyt I sallOf rych kyngly spulȝe triumphall,Quhilk heir I sall rent from myne aduersar,Or than salbe renownyt evirmarOf ane excellent end moist gloryus.Do wa thy bost and mannance maid to ws:For my fader, quhom thou desyris besyde,Reputtis all elyke, quhou evir the chance betyde.And sayand thus, amyd the plane furth startis:The blude congelyt abowt Archadyane hartis.Turnus down lepys from hys twa quhelit char,And bownys fast towartis his aduersar.Lyke as ane lyoun from the hillys hycht,Amyd the valle had scharply gottin a sychtOf sum prowd bull, with hys horn in the planeAddressand hym reddy to mak bargane,Cummys bradand on the best fast in a lyng;On siclyke wys was Turnus tocummyng:And quhen that Pallas saw hym cum sa neirHe mycht areke to hym a casting speir,Formast he bownys to the jonyng place,Gyf sa betyd that fortoun, of hir grace,Hys interprys for stowt ondertakyngWald help, or hym support in ony thing,As he that ȝong was, and of strenth all owtNa wys compeir to Turnus stern and stowt;And to the gret Goddis in hevyn aboneApon this maner prayand said he sone:I the beseik, thou myghty Hercules,Be my faderis gestnyng, and the ilk desQuhar thou strangear was ressauyt to herbry,Assist to me, cum in my help in hy,To perform this excellent fyrst journe;That Turnus in the ded thraw may me seBereif fra hym hys bludy armour red,And, ȝaldand vp the breth in the ilk sted,Mot with hys eyn behald me hym beforIn hie tryumphe, with ourhand as victor.Gret Hercules the ȝong man hard onon,And from the boddum of hys hart can gron,Hydand hys smert for rewth of Pallas ȝyng,Seand the fatys wald haue hys endyng;And for ennoy salt terys, all in vayn,Furth ȝettyng our hys chekis thyk as rayn.Tho Jupiter, hys curage to astabill,Thus to hys son spak wordys amyabill.Tyll euery mortale wofull wight, perfay,Determyt standis the fixit lattir day;Ane schort and onrecoverabill term is setOf lyfe, quhen all most neydlyngis pay that det:Bot, to prolong thar fame by nobill dedis,Fra vertuus wark that cumys and procedis.Quhou mony sonnys and deir childryn, said he,Of goddis kyn, vnder Troy wallys hieWar done to ded, and brytnyt blude and bone!So that amangis all otheris Sarpedon,My tendir get, my kyn, and blude, lyis slane.Forsuyth also, I say the into plane,The fynale fayt awatis Turnus in feild,The dait and methis approchis of hys eild.On this wys spak gret Jove to Hercules;And, with that word, hys eyn towart the presOn the Rutilian feild addressis he.And, the ilk stownd, ȝong Pallas lattis fleWith mekill fors at Turnus a gret speir,And syne onon hys brycht brand burnyst cleirHyntis furth of the scheith to mak debait.The schaft flaw towart Turnus, and hym smaitApon the schulder, abuf the gardis hieThat rysys vmast tharvpon we se,And throw the bordour of the scheild swa persyt,Quhill fynaly in sum deill it traversyt,And hurt a part of Turnus byg body.Than Turnus smyttyn, full of felony,A bustuus lance with grundyn hed ful kene,That lang quhile taysyt he in proper teyn,Leyt gyrd at Pallas, and thus wys said he:Consider ȝoungkeir, gyf our lancis be,Bettir of tempyr and mair penytratyve.And, with the word, the schaft flaw furth belyve,So that the scharp poynt of the brangland speirThrow owt amyddis of the scheild can scheir,Persand sa mony platis of irne and steill,And sa feill plyis of bull hydis ilk deill,All sammyn cowchit in hys target strang,The bustuus strake throw all hys armour thrang.That styntit na thing at the fyne hawbryk,Quhil throu the cost thyrlyt the dedly pryk.Pallas, nocht schrynkand for the mortale dynt,Invane the hait schaft of hys wond lies hynt;For al togidder by the sammyn wayThe blude and sawle passys hyne bath tway.Apon hys wond onon he ruschis down:Abuf hym rang hys harnes with a sovn:And that onfrendly erth inimycall,That in hys deth he suld not scryk nor call,As was the gys, with bludy mowth bait he.Turnus, abufe hym standand, carpys on hie:O ȝhe pepill of Arcaid, takis tent,And my wordis do rehers and presentTo kyng Evander, sayand hym playnly,That hys son Pallas to hym send haue IIn sik array as that he hes deservyt;And, of my gentrys, wil he be preservitTo all estait and honour funerall,With all solace pertenyng beryallOf tumbe and of entyrment, as efferis.Na lytill thyng, perfay, into thir werisHes hym bycost the frendschip of Ene.And, sayand thus, with hys left fut hes hePallas ded corps ourwelt, or euer he stent,And syne abowt hys sydis sone has rentHys goldyn gyrdill, pasand a gret deill,Quharin was gravin craftely and weillOf Danavs douchteris the iniquyte,Quhou that the fyfty ȝong men, schame to se,War fowlly murthuryt on the first nycht,As thai war spowsyt to thar ladeis brycht;The chalmeris portyrit war bysprent with blude:Quhilk historeis Eurition, warkman gude,Had carvyt weill and wrocht full craftelyIn weighty platis of the gold massy;Of quhais spulȝe now is Turnus glaid,Joyfull and blyth that he it conquest had.O mannis mynd, so ignorant at allOf thingis tocum and chancis quhilkis may fall!Vpheit sone in blynd prosperyte,Can not be war, nor myssour hald with the!The tyme sall cum quhen Turnus sall, persay,Hait and wary this spulȝe and this day,Desyrand he mycht by for mekill thingThat he had nevir twichit Pallas ȝyng.Abowt the corps assemblit tho his feris,With mekill murnyng and huge plente of terys;Apon a scheild Pallas body thai laid,And bair hym of the feild, and thus thai said:O Pallas, quhou gret dolour and wirschypTo thy fader, and all hys falloschip,Sall thou rendir and bryng hame, said thai:This was to the in weyrfar the first day,Quhilk first in bataill dressyt the to go;The ilk for ay has the bereft tharfro!And, not the les, thy swerd leiffis in the planysGret hepys ded of the Rutilianys.CAP. IX
The rich Magus na ranson mycht reskew,And preist Hemonydes, baith Eneas slew.Tho nane incertane rumour nor demyng,Bot sovyr boydword cam thar, and warnyng,Ontill Eneas of this gret myschance,Schawand quhou that his folkis stud in ballance.As bot in litill distans all from ded;The tyme requiryt forto set remeid,And succur Troianys quhilkis had tane the flycht.Than, as wod lyon, ruschit he in the fight,And all quham he arekis nerrest handWithout reskew dovn mawis with his brand;The bytand blaid abowt hym inveroumAmyd the rowtis reddis large rovm.Enragit and inflambit thus in ireThrow owt the ostis Turnus, that prowd syre,Quhilk had this new slauchtir maid, socht he:Ay prentand in hys mynd befor hys EThe gudly Pallas, was sa stowt and ȝyng,And the gret gentryce of Evander kyng;The cheir and fest hym maid bot a stranger;Per ordour all thing, quhou and quhat manerHe was ressauyt, and tretit thankfully;Syne of hys band of frendschip and allyWith athis sworn and interchangit handis,Remembryng tho his promys and cunnandis.Amovit in this heit, or euer he stynt,Four ȝong men quyk he hes in handis hynt,That born was of the cite hecht Sulmon;Alsmony syne he takyn has ononBred and vpbrocht besyde the flude Vfens,Quham that he etlys forto send from thensTo Pallas lykewalkis and obsequeis,To strow his funeral fyre of byrnand treis,As was the gys, with blude of presoneris,Eftir the ald rytis into mortale weris.Syne hynt Eneas a perellus lance in hand,And it addressis far furth on the landTo ane Magus, that subtell was and sle,And jowkit in vnder the speir has he;The schaft schakand flaw furth abufe hys hede;And he Eneas in that samyn stedAbowt the kneis grippyt humylly,With petuus voce syne thus begouth to cry:Be thy deir faderys gost I the beseik,And be that gude beleif quhilk thou has eikOf Ascanyvs vprysyng to estait,Thys silly sawle of myne, sa faynt and mayt,Thow salf to my a son and fader deir.I haue a hows, rych, full of mobillis seir,Quharin bedelvyn lyis a gret talent,Or charge of fyne siluer, in veschell quentForgyt and punsyt wonder craftely;Ane huge weght of fynast gold tharby,Oncunȝeit ȝit, ne nevir put in wark:Sa thou me salf, thy pyssans is so stark,The Troianys glory nor thar victorySal na thyng change nor dymynew tharby,Nor a puyr sawle, thus hyngand in ballance,May sik diuisioun mak nor discrepans.Thus said this silly Magus, all invane.Quhamtill Eneas answeris thus agane:Sa mony talentis of fyne siluyr and gold,Quhilkis thou rehersand heir befor hes told,Do kepe onto thy small childyr and ayris;Lat thame bruke weill, I consent it be tharis.All interchange and ransonyng, perfay,In this batale Turnus hes done away,Now laitly slayand ȝong Pallas, allace!That rewthfull harm, and that myschews cace,Felys baith Ascanyus and my faderis gost,For thai na litill thyng tharby hes lost.Thus sayand, by the helm hym grippys heWith hys left hand, and fast as he mycht dreWrith down hys nek, quharin, but mair abaid,Hys bludy brand vp to the hyltis slaid.Not far thens stude Hemonydes allane,Prest onto Phebus and the thrynfald Dyane,On quhais hed wympillit holy garlandisWith thar pendentis lyke to a mytyr standis,Hys habyt as the scheyn son lemand lycht,And all hys armour quhite and burnyst brycht:Quham Eneas assalyt myghtyly,And gan do chays owt throw the feld in hy,That fleand stummyrryt and to grond went sone:The Troiane prynce down lowtis hym abone,And with hys brand hym brytnys at devys,In maner of ane offerand sacryfys.The large schaddow of Eneas in feildDyd haill the ded corps of this preist ourheld.Serestus sortis vp hys armour gay,And on hys schuldris careit hes away,To hyng as trophe or syng victoriallTyll Mars the God, quhilk Gradyus is call.CAP. X
Quhat douchty chiftanys of the Latyn landThat day Eneas kyllit with hys hand.Ceculus, discendit of Wlcanus blude,And Vmbro eyk, the stalwart chiftane rude,That cum was fra the montanys Marsyane,The bargane stuffis, relevand in agane.Bot Eneas, discend from Dardanus,Ganstandis thame, ful brym and furyus,And onto ane, hecht Anxurus, in the feildOf strak the left arm all dovn with the scheld;Quhilk had maid sum gret vant, spekand prowdly,Wenyng that in hys sawys by and byThar had bene gret effect, and hardyment,As thocht he wald extoll in hys ententHys manhed to the hevyn and starnys hie,And promys to hym self, for hys bonte,Agit cannos hayr and lang proces of ȝeris:Lo, now he lyggis law, for all hys feris!Syne baldly with glaid curage, as I ges,Agane Eneas can Tarquytus dres,In schynand armour wonder prowd and gay,Of Dryope born, the nymphe or schene may,To Fawnus wonnyng in the woddis greyn;And, to recontyr Ene inflambyt in teyn,Kest hym selvyn: bot the tother, but feir,Buyr at hym mychtyly with a lang speirThrow owt hys scheild of pays and hawbrik fyne,That to the grond gan dovn hys hed declyne;All thocht he than full humylly hym besocht,And schupe to say mekill, all was for nocht.Hys pallat in the dust bedowyn stude,And the body baithit in the hait bludeEne ourweltis, sayand thir wordis withall,With trublit breist and mynd inimicall:Now ly thow thar, that wenyt the so wightThat thou was feirfull ontill euery wight.Thy best belovyt mother sall the not haueTo erd, as custum is, nor delf in grave,Na do thy bonys honour with sik cuyrAs thame to lay in fadyrris sepultur;Bot salbe left to the wild bestis fuyd,Or than the spait watir of this fludeSal bair the in the deip, and thar on rawWith empty throtis sal thy banys gnawThir sey monstreys in thar wod rage,And lape thy blude thar hungar to asswage.Syne, but delay, Antheus and Lycas,Quhilkis that of Turnus first ward ledaris was,Persewys he, and also Numa bold,And Camerthes, brycht schynand all of gold,Son of the manly Volscens capitan;In all the fertill grond AusonyaneThe richast man, and kyng was this VolscensOf Amyclys the cite of silens.And lyke as Egeon, the kyng of gyandis,Quhilk had, thai say, ane hundreth armys and handys.And fyfty mowthys, of quham the fyre dyd schyne,As he into the batale gigantyneIncontrar Jovis thundir and fyre flauchtWith alsmony scharp drawyn swerdis fawght,Clatterand in bargane with samony scheildis:The sammyn wys, enragent throw the feildisWent Eneas, as victor with ourhand,Fra tyme that anys bedyit hys burnyst brandAnd wet he had in hait Rutiliane blude.So that alsso, in this ilk fury wod,He draif at Nypheus amyd the breste bane,Set in hys fourquhelit chariot allane:Bot fra the hors on far dyd hym aspySa grym of cheir stalkand sa bustuusly,For feir thai start abak, and furth can swakThe duke Nypheus wyd oppyn on hys bak,And brak away with the cart to the schor,With stendis feill and mony bray and snor.The self stound, amyd the pres fut hoytLucagus entyris in hys chariote,With quhyte hors drawyng wonder lustely,Hys brother Lyger sittand neir hym by;Thys Lyger led the renȝeis with hys hand,Bot bald Lucagus swakkis a burnyst brand.Eneas mycht nocht suffir nor susteneOf thame sic fervour in thar felloun teyn,Bot ruschit furth, and with a gret speirForganyst thame can into sycht appeir;Quhamto this Liger carpys apon he:Thou seys nocht Dyomedis stedis heir, said he,Nor ȝit Achillis char persavis draw,Thocht athir venquyst the in feild, we knaw;Nor ȝit the Troiane planys behaldis thou:The end of thyne age and of bargane nowSalbe maid in thir landis on this grond.Sic wordis vayn and onsemly of sovndFurth warpys wyde this Lyger fulychly:Bot the Troian barroun onabasitlyNa wordis pressis to rendir hym agane,Bot at hys fa leyt fle a dart or flayn,That hyt Lucagus; quhilk, fra he selt the dynt,The schaft hyngand into hys scheild, but styntBad dryf hys hors and char al fordwart strecht,As he that hym addressit to the fecht,And strekit furth hys left fut in hys char:Bot sone Eneas speir was reddy thar,Beneth hys schynand scheild reversyt law,So that the grondyn hed the ilk thrawAt hys left flank or leisk persyt tyte,Quhill clar owt our the charyot is he smyte,And on the grond weltis in the ded thrawys.Quham on this wys with sowr wordis and sawysThe petuus Eneas begouth to chyd:Lucagus, said he, forsuyth as at this tydeNa sla curs of thy horssys onweldyThy cart has rendryt to thyne ennemy,Nor ȝit na vayn wrathys nor gaistis quentThi char constrenyt bakwart forto went,And malgre thyne withdraw thi fays gryppys;Bot lo now, of thy fre will, as thou skyppysOwtour the quhelys of thy cart, God wait,Levand the renys and hors all desolat.Thys beand said, the horsis renys he hynt.The tothir fey brother, or evyr he stynt,Lap fra the cart, and kneland petuusly,Vphevand hys bayr handis, thus dyd cry:O Troiane prynce, I lawly the beseik,Be thyne awyn vertues and thy thewys meyk,And be thy parentis maist of renowne,That sik a child engendryt hes as the,Thow spair this wofull sylly sawle at lest,Haue rewth of me, and admyt my request.With wordis feill as he thus can requer,Ene at last on this wys maid answer:Syk sawys war langer furth of thy mynd.Sterve the behuffis, les than thou war onkyndAs for to leif thy broder desolaitAll hym allane, na follow the sam gait.And tharwithall the hyrnys of hys gostHe rypyt with the swerd amyd hys cost,So tyll hys hart stoundis the pryk of deth:He weltis our, and ȝaldis vp the breth.Thys Dardane prynce as victor thus in weirSa mony douchty corpsis brocht on beir,Amyd the planys reddand large gait,As doys a rowtand ryver red on spait;That for hys dyntis wolx hys fays agast,As for the feirfull drumly thundris blast.Quhil fynaly Ascanyus the ȝyng page,And the remanent of Troian barnage,Quhilk war, as said is, besegyt invane,Thar strenth hes left, and takyn hes the plane.CAP. XI
Juno rycht quayntly causys Turnus to fle,Ane fenȝeit figour persewand of Ene.The ilk stound, of hys awyn fre volunte,Jove callys Juno, and thus carpys he:O thou my systir german and my feir,My best beluffyt spows, most leif and deir,Thyne opynyon has not dissauyt the,As thou belevyt: now may thou not seQuhou Venus doys susteyn and fortyfyThe Troiane rowtis and pyssans by and by?Nane actyve handis, nor stowt myndis, I weyn,Nor bodeys reddy all perrellys to sustene,Haue thai, thou may se be experiens.Quhamto Juno, with humyl reverens,Answeryt; my sweit and mast gudly husband,Quharto lyst the renew my sorow at hand,As cayrfull wight, that lykis nocht sic bourdis?All efferd of thy fatal dreidfull wordisI am bestad: bot war I now, I weyn,Als strangly belovyt as I sum tyme haue bene;Thocht ȝit, God wait, accordyt so tobeBaith to myne honour and thy dignyte;I say, war I beluffyt as I was ayr,Thou Jove almyghty ryngand euermarSuld not deny me sa sobyr a thyng,Bot at I mycht withdraw, at my lykyng,Furth of the feild Turnus, and hym saveOnto hys fader Dawnus, that our the laveBelovyt hym, as raysoun wald, quod sche.Now sall he perysch, and now sal he de,And sched hys gentyll blude sa pacient,In grews panys be Troianys tort and rent:And netheles hys kyn origynallIs renownyt of godly stok ryall,Discendit of our seid and hevynly clan,Fra God Pylumnus to rekkyn the ferd man;And eik, thou wait, full oft with large hand,With mony oystis, and ryght fair offerand,Thy templys and thyne altaris chargit has he,In wirschyp of thy myghty maieste.The souerane kyng of hevyn etherialIn few wordis maid answer thus at all:Gif thow askis a resput or delay,Bot for a tyme, or tyll a certane day,Of thys evident deth of Turnus ȝyng,Desyrand I suld grant the sik a thyng,All thocht he mortale be rycht sone we knaw;I leif the to remove hym and withdraw,And from this instant perrellus hard faytSteill hym away, and gyde hym by the gait:For so lang space ȝyt restis at will of meTo lenth hys lyfe, quhilk I the grant, quod he.Bot gif sa beys, that vndre thy requestMair hie pardon lurkis, I wald them cest:For gif thou wenys that all the victoryOf the batale, and chancis by and by,May be reducyt and alterat clar agane,A mysbyleve thou fosteris all invane.To quham Juno on this wys said wepyng:Quhat harm mycht fall, thocht be sum takyn or syngThow schew thy mynd, and grantit that, quod sche,Quhilk be thy wordis of fatale destaneNow grunschis thou to geif or to conceid?That is to sa, quhat fors, thocht thou in deidWaldyst appreif and ratyfy aganeThat Turnus lyfe a lang tyme suld remane?Bot now approchis to that innocent knychtA feirfull end; he sal to ded be dicht,Or than my sawys ar voyd of veryte.And O, wald God, at rather sa suld beThat I dissavyt war bot with fals dreid,And at thou list, as thou has mycht in deid,Thy fatale promys and thy statutis strangeIn bettir purpos to translait and change!Fra scho thir wordis had said, the ilk tydeDovn from the hevyn scho leyt hir selvyn slyde,Befor hyr dryvand a tempestuus wynd,And all abowt, befor and eik behynd,Within a clowd of myst circulyt cleyn:So throw the air bownyt furth this queynTowart the Troiane hostis in the planys,And to the tentis socht of Lawrentanys.Thys Goddes than furth of ane boys clowdIn lyknes of Ene dyd schaip and schrowdA voyd figur, but strenth or curage bald,The quhilk wondyrus monstre to behaldWith Troiane wapynnys and armour grathis sche,With scheild, and helm, and tymbret set on hie,Be semlant lyke Eneas godlyhed;And tharto ekis scho in euery stedQuent fenȝeit wordis, fant and contyrfait,With voce, but mynd, or ony other consait;And fenȝeis eik hys concernans and pacis;Syklyke as that, thai say, in diuers placisThe wraithis walkis of goistis that ar ded,Or as the slepy dremys, fra sted to stedFleand in swevyn, makis illusionys,Quhen mennys myndis oft in dravillyng gronys:And all befor the forfront of the feildRicht haltandly, as curageus vnder scheild,Musturis this ymage, that with dartis keynAggrevyt Turnus, and dyd hym chyde in teyn,Prouocand hym to bargane and tyl ire.And Turnus tho als hoyt as any fyreThys figur dyd invaid, and tharat heIn gret dispyte a quhirrand dart leyt fle:Bot this ilk schaddo, as sum deill addred,Turnyt abowt, and gaif the bak and fled.Then Turnus, wenand Ene had tane the flycht,And al awondryt of that selcouth fyght,Within hys mynd a vayn comfort kawch he,And cryis lowd; quhidder fleys thou now, Ene?Leif nevir, for schame, thus dissolait and waistThy new allyans promyst the in haist,Of Lavynya the spousyng chalmyr at hand,And all this ilk regioun and this land,Quhilk thou sa far has socht owt our the se:My rycht hand sal the saysyng geif, quod he.With sik wordis he schowtand dyd persew,And ay the glymmyrand brand baith schuke and schew,Na thyng persavand quhou this myrth and blysAway quyte with the wynd bewavit is.On cace thar stude a mekill schip that tyde,Hyr wayl jonyt til a schor rokis syde,With plankis and with bryggis layd on land,The entre reddy grathit weill thai fand;In the quhilk schip Osynyus kyng, I wys,Come laitly from the cite of Clusys.Thydder went this wrath or schaddo of Ene,That semyt, all abasyt, fast to fle,And hyd hyr dern vndre hychis tharin.Na slawar Turnus hastis hym to ryn,That but delay he spedis to this schyp,Ran owr the bryg, and inwith burd can skyp;And scars was entrit in the forcastell,Quhen Saturnus douchter saw hir tyme befell:Than soyn the cabyll in sondir smytis sche,And fra the schor draif the schip throu the see.Bot Turnus absent thus that sammyn howrEneas seyrssys throw amyd the stowr,And in hys renk quham euer he met lay ded;Full mony a man he kyllit in that sted.And tharwithall hys lycht and fenȝeit gost,Fra tyme the schip was chargyt fra the cost,No langar sekis hyrnys hir to hyde,Bot flaw vp in the ayr the sammyn tyde,And al dissoluyt into a dyrk clowd.The meyn sesson, can fors of wyndis lowdTurnus far furth amyd the deip sey dryve:He dyd behald abowt hym tho belyve,All ignorant quhat wys this chance was wrocht,And of hys lyfe salvyng na thyng he rocht;With handis junct vphevit towart hevin,Syk wordis he furth braid with drery stevyn:Almychty fader of the hevynnys hie,Has thou me reput on sic wys tobeConfusyt in this schame for myn offens?And will I suffyr syk torment and pennans?Quhidder am I dryue, and from quhens am I cumyn?Quhat maner eschewyng or fleyng haue I nummyn?In quhat estait sall I return agane?Sall I evir se the wallys Lawrentane,Or evir eft my tentis sall I se?Quhat may ȝon ost of men now say of me,Quhilkis my querrell and me followit to feild,Quham now, allace! lo, fechtand vnder scheildȜondir, schame to say the harm, sa wikkytlyReddy to myschews deth beleft haue I?Lo, I behald thame fleand paill and wan,And heris the granyng of mony douchty manIn my defalt falland fey to grond.Quhat sal I do? allace the wofull stond!Or quhilk land, thocht a thousand tymys I stervit,May swelly me sa deip as I haue servyt?Bot, O ȝe wyndis, rather haue mercy,On rowkis and on craggis by and byDo swak this schyp, sen heir na erth I se,And haue of wrachit Turnus sum pyete,Quhilk of hys fre will, stad in this maner,Besekis ȝow with all hartly prayer;Do warp my body on the schaldis onkend,Far furth on Syrtys at the warldis end,Quhar Rutilyanys me nevir fynd agane,Sa that na fame nor rumour may remaneEftir my deth of this schaymfull trespas.And, sayand thus, in mynd dyd he cumpasFull mony chancis rolland to and fro,Quhidder gif he suld, for proper lak and wo,Into this fury smyte hym with hys brand,And thryst the bludy blaid in with hys handThrow owt hys rybbys, and sched his hart blude;Or than to swak hym self amyd the flude,Swymmand to seik the nerrest costis bay,In feild agane the Troianys to assay.Athir way till assay thrys presyt hes he:And thrys hym styntis Juno, queyn mast hie,Havand compassioun of this ȝong man bald,And can asswage hys mynd, and hand withhald.Furth held the schip, slydand owt our the fludis,With prosper wynd and followand tyde sa gude is,Quhill he is careit suyrly throw the seeTyll Ardea, hys faderis auld cite.CAP. XII
In Turnus sted Mezentius dyd succeid,Killyt doun his fays, and spulȝeit of thar weid.Durand this quhile, in fatis marciall,Mezentyus movyt with ardour bellycall,Be instigatioun of Jove in that neid,Can to the batale in hys place succeid;And the Troianys to invaid na thing sparis,That semyt prowd as all the feild war tharis.Than sammyn to recontyr hym atanysSemlyt haill ostis of Hethrurianys,And all assailȝeit Mezentius allone;Aganyst a man thai rowtys euery one,Inflambyt all in malyce, maid persutys,And thik as haill schour at hym schaftis schutis.Bot he, lyke to a ferm rowk, quhilk we seStrekyt on lenth amyd the large see,Sytuat aganys the rageand wyndis blast,And brym wallys boldynnand wondyr fast,From all that violens doys hym self defend,And haill the fors sustenys to the endBaith of the hevynnys and byr of seys rage,Remanand onremovyt ferm in hys stage:Als stern standis Meȝentius in that stoundAnd first he hes fellit and laid to the grondHebrus, the son of ane Dolycaon,And hym besyde Latagus flew onon,And Palmus eik, accustumat to fle:Bot with a stane Latagus brytnyt heQuhilk of a montane semyt a gret nuke,With quham hym on the vissage he ourtuke;And Palmus howgh sennonys smait in twayMaid hym sa slaw he mycht nocht fle away;Thar armour syne to Lawsus gevyn hes heTo weir on hys schuldris, and crovn on hieThar creistis set, the quhilk sa rychly schane.He slew also Evantes a Troiane,And Mynas syne he kyllys in the feild,Quhilum to Parys companȝeoun and evin eild;Quham on a nycht Theana, gude and fair,To hys fader Amycus in Troy bair,Quhen Heccuba, douchter of Cisseus,Dremyt scho was gret, the story tellis thus,With a fyre broynd, and the self samyn nychtWas delyver of Parys, the fey knycht,Quhilk in hys natyve cite maid hys end:Bot thir feildis Lawrentan ombekendWithhaldis now the body of Mynas:So brym in stowr that stond Mezentyus was.Lyke to the strenthy sangler, or the bore,Quham hundis quest with mony quhryne and roreDown dryvyng from the hightis maid discend,Quhilk mony wyntyr tofor had hym defendIn Vesulus, the cauld montane hie,That is ourheldyt with mony fyr tre;Or than the bustuus swyne weil fed, that bredisAmang the buskis rank of ryspe and redis,Besyde the layk of Lawrens, mony ȝheris,Quhen that he is betrappyt fra his ferisAmyd the huntyng ralys and the nettis,Standis at the bay, and vp hys byrsys settis,Grasland hys tuskis with astern fyry eyn,With spaldis hard and harsk awfull and teyn,That nane of all the huntmen thar presentHym to engreif has strenth or hardyment,Nor dar approchyng within hys byt neir,Bot standand far on dreich with dart and speir,Assoverit of hys reik, the beste assays,With felloun schowtis, bustuus cryis, and brays.Nane other wys stud all the Tuscane rowtThis stalwart knycht Mezentius abowt;And, thocht thai just caws had of wreth and feyd,Thar was nane of thame durst hym put to ded,Nor curage had with drawyn swerd in handHym till assaill, nor mach apon the land;Bot with takillis and castyn dartis on farThai warp at hym, bot durst not ane cum nar,And with huge clamour hym infestis that tyde:He, onabasyt, abowt on euery sydeBehaldis, gyrnand full of proper teyn,And with hys scheild choppyt by schaftis bedene.Furth of the ancyent boundis of Coryt thoWas cum a Greik, quhilk clepyt was Acro,That fugityve into his lusty heytHad left hys spowsal trewth plicht oncompleit:Quham as Mezentius saw amyd the rowtHym grevand soir, as weriour stern and stowt,And saw the plesand plomys set on hychtOf hys tymrell, and eik the purpour brycht,Quhilk of his trewthplycht lufe he bair in syng;Than, lyke a hungry lyon rumysyng,Constrenyt by hys rageand empty maw,The beistis dennys circuland all on raw,Gif he on cace aspys a swyft ra,Or the ȝyng hart with spryngand tyndis twa,Joyful he bradis tharon dispytuusly,With gapand gowle, and vprasys in hyThe lokkyrris lyand in his nek rowght,And all the bestis bowellis thrymlys throwght,Hurkylland tharon, quhar he remanyt and stude,Hys gredy gammys bedyis with the red blude:On the sammyn wys, Mezentius rycht baldlyMydwart hys fays rowt ruschit in hy;Down smytis fey Acron amyd the ost,That in the ded thraw, ȝaldand vp the gost,Smate with hys helys the grond in maltalent,And brokkyn schaftis with hys blude bysprent.This ilk Mezentius eik dedenȝeit nochtTo sla Orodes, quhilk than was onflocht,That is to knaw, quhill frawart hym he went,And reput na wys, as by hys entent,Syk ane fleand to wond into the bak,Onawarnyst, quhen he na defens mycht mak,Bot ran abowt and met hym in hys rays;Than athir man assemblit face for face:Orodes mair of prattik was all owt,Bot the tother in dedis of armys mair stowt,That to the erth ourthrawyn he hes his feir,And, possand at hym with hys stalwart speir,Apon hym set hys fut, and thus he said:O now my feris, beys blyth and glaid;Lo, a gret party of this weir, but les,Heir lyis at erd, the douchty Orodes.Hys feris sammyn rasyt vp a cry,With joyus sound in syng of victory,And blew the prys triumphall for his deth:Bot this Orodes, ȝaldand vp the breth,Onto Mezentyus carpys thus on hie:Me onrevengit, thou sal nocht victour be,For weill I wait that sone I salbe wrokyn,Na, for all thy prowd wordis thou has spokkyn,Thou sall nocht lang endur into sik joy;Bot siclyke chancis and semblant ennoyAbydis the, thocht thou be nevir sa bald,Thys sammyn feild sall thy ded corps withhald.To quham Mezentius smyland said in teyn;Thou sall de first, quhat evyr to me forseynOr previdyt has myghty Jove, quod he,Quham fader of Goddis and kyng of men cleip we.And sayand thus, the schaft the ilk thrawFurth of hys wond and body dyd he draw.Tho Orodes the hard rest doith oppres,The cauld and irny slepe of dethys stres,And vp the breth he ȝald onon rychtWith eyn closyt in evir lestand nycht.Cedicus al totrynschit Alcathous,And Sacrator to grund laid Hydaspus;Rapo, ane Arcaid, has Parthenyus slane,And Orses, wondir byg of blude and bane;And Mesapus kyllyt the stowt Clonyvs,And Erycates with Lychaonyus;The formast lyggand at the erd he ouvraucht,That by hys hedstrang hors a fall had caught,And Lychaonyus eik, a fut man, heLyghtit on fut and slew in the melle.Aganys hym than went a man of Arge,Hait Lycyus, bodyn with speir and targe;Bot by the way Valerus, gude in nedis,Nocht inexpert in douchty eldris dedis,Recontryt hym, and put hym to the ded:Salyus a Troiane in that sammyn stedAtronyus slew; and Nealces, expertTo schut the fleand arrow or castyng dart,Quhilk invadis a man or he be war,Slew Salyus with schot, beand on far.