The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse
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CAP. XII
Eneas first excusys hym, and syneAddressis to rehers Troys rewyne.Thai cessit all atanys incontinent,With mouthis clos, and vissage takand tent.Prince Eneas, from the hie bed, with that,Into hys sege ryall quhar he sat,Begouth and sayd: Thi desyre, Lady, isRenewing of ontellabill sorow, I wys;To schaw how Grekis dyd spulȝe and distroyThe gret ryches and lamentabill realm of Troy:And huge mysery quhilk I thar beheld,Quharof my self a gret part bayr and feld:Quhat Myrmydon or Gregion Dolopes,Or knycht wageour to cruel Vlixes,Sik materis to rehers or ȝit to heir,Mycht thame conteyn fra weping mony a teir?And now the hevin ourquhelmys the donk nycht,Quhen the declynyng of the sternys brychtTo sleip and rest perswadis our appetite:Bot sen thou hast sic plesour and delyteTo knaw our chancis, and fal of Troy in weyr,And schortly the last end tharof wald heir,Albeit my spreit abhorris, and doith grys,Tharon forto remember, and oft sysMurnand eschewis tharfra with gret dyseys,Ȝit than I sal begyn ȝow forto pleys.THE PROLOUG OF THE SECUND BUKE
Dyrk beyn my muse with dolorus armony.Melpomene, on the wald clerkis callFortill compyle this dedly Tragedy,Twiching of Troy the subuersioun and fall;Bot sen I follow the Poete principall,Quhat nedis purches fenȝeit termys new?God grant me grace hym dyngly to ensew!The drery fait with terys lamentabillOf Troys sege wydequhar our all is song;Bot followand Virgil, gif my wit war abill,Ane othir wys now sall that bell be rongThan euer was tofor hard in our tong.Saturn, thou auld fader of malancoly,Thyne is the cuyr my wofull pen to gy.Harkis, Ladeis, ȝour bewte was the caws;Harkis, Knychtis, the wod fury of Mart;Wys men, attendis mony sorofull claws;And, ȝe dyssavouris, reid heir ȝour proper art;And fynaly, to specify euery part,Heir verifeit is that proverbe teching so,All erdly glaidnes fynysith with wo.THE SECUND BUKE OF ENEADOS
CAP. I
Quhou the Grekis withdrew thame of the raid,And of the mekill subtile hors thai maid.The Grekis chiftanys, irkit of the weirBypast or than sa mony langsum ȝeir,And oft rebutyt by fatale destany,Ane huge hors, lyke ane gret hil, in hyCraftely thai wrocht in wirschip of Pallas;Of sawyn beche the ribbis forgyt was;Fenȝeand ane oblacioune, as it had beFor prosper returnyng hame in thair cuntre:The voce this wys throu owt the cite woyk.Of choys men syne, walit by cut, thai tukeA gret numbyr, and hyd in bylgis dernWithin that best, in mony huge cavern;Schortly, the belly was stuffit euery deillFul of knychtis armyt in plait of steill.Thair standis into the sycht of Troy ane ile,Weil knawin by name, hecht Tenedos vmquhile,Myghty of gudis quhil Priamus ryng sa stude;Now is it bot a fyrth in the sey flude,A raid onsikkyr for schip or ballyngare.In desert costis of this iland tharThe Grekis thame ful secretly withdrew;We wenyng thame hame passit and adew,And, with gude wynd, of Myce the realm had socht.Quharfor al thai of Troy, blyth as thai mocht,Thair langsum duyl and murnyng dyd away,Kest vp the portis and yschit furth to play,The Grekis tentis desyrus forto se,And voyd placis quhar thai war wont tobe,The cost and strandis left desert al cleyn.Heir stude the army of Dolopeis, sum wald meyn,Cruel Achil heir stentit his pailȝeon;Quhar stude the navy, lo the place ȝonder down;Heir the ostis war wont to joyn in feild.And sum, wondring, the scaithfull gyft beheldSuldbe offerit to the onweddit Pallas,Thai mervellit fast the hors samekil was:Bot Tymetes exortis first of allIt forto leid and draw within the wall,And forto set it in the cheif palyce;Quhidder for dissait, I not, or for malyce,Or destany of Troy wald sa suldbe.Bot Capis than, with are othir menȝeQuhilk bettir avys thar myndis set apon,Bad cast or drown into the sey ononeThat suspek presand of the Grekis dissait,Or kyndill tharvndir flambe of fyris hait,Or forto rype that holkit huge belly,And the hyd hyrnys to sers and weil espy.Quhat nedis mair? the onstabill common voceDiuidit was in mony seir purpos.Quhen thidder come befor thame al onone,Followand a gret rowt, the prest LaoconFrom the cheif tempil rynnand in ful gret hy;On far, O wrachit pepil, gan he cry,Quhou gret wodnes is this at ȝe now meyn,Ȝour ennymyis away salit gif ȝe weyn,Or gif ȝe traist ony Grekis gyftis beWithowt dissait, falshed and subtelte!Knaw ȝe na bettir the quent Vlixes slycht?Owder in this tre ar Grekis closit ful rycht,Or this engyne is byggit to our skaith,To wach our wallis and our byggynys bath,Or to confound and ourquhelm our cite;Thar lurkis sum falshed tharin, trastis me;Lippyn nocht, Troianys, I pray ȝou, in this hors;Quhow euer it be, I dreid the Grekis fors,And thame that sendis this gyft always I feir.Thus sayand, with al his strenth a gret speirAt the syde of that bysnyng best threw he,And in jonyngis of the thrawyn wame of treFestynnyt the lance, that trymlyng gan to schaik;The braid belly schudderit, and with the straikThe boys cavys sowndit and maid a dyn.And had nocht beyn that owder his wit was thyn,Or than the fatis of goddis war contrary,He had assayt, but ony langar tary,Hyd Grekis covert with irne to haue rent owt;Than suld thou, Troy, haue standyn ȝit, but dowt,And the prowd palyce of Kyng PriamusSuld haue remanyt ȝit ful gloryus.CAP. II
The takyng of the tresonabill Synon,And of hys fenȝeit wordis mony one.Lo, the ilk tyme, harland onto the kyngTroiane hyrdis with gret clamour dyd bryngA ȝong man, baith his handis behynd his bakHard bundyn, that wilfully forto be takRendrit hym self, onknawyn the caws quhy,Forto perform his deid mair secretly;By stowt curage reddy to athir of tway,Owder to bryng hys slycht to gude assay,Or faillyng tharof, dowtles reddy to deLes than to Grekis he oppynnyt the cite.On ather part hym to behald atanysFast flokkis about a multitude ȝong Troianys,Byssy to knak and pul the presoneir.Now the dissait of Grekis may ȝe heir,And all thar falshed lern by this a slycht.For, alsso fast in myddis of al our sychtAs that drery onarmyt wyght was stad,And with eyn blent about, semyng ful rad,Behaldand Troiane rowtis on athir hand,Alace, quod he, wald God some erd, or sand,Or sum salt sey dyd swelly me alyve!Quhat other thing now restis to me catyve,Quhamto sal nevir amang Grekis aganeA place be fundyn suythly to remane?And maratour, Troianys, offendyt eik,To sched my blude by paynful deth dois seik.With this regrait our hartis sterit to piete,All molestatioune cessit and lattyn be,We hym exort rehers, and tobe bald,Of quhat lynnage he was, and quhat he wald,And to ramembir, gude hope of ferm suppleHappynnys oft to presoneris in captiuite.He, at the last, this fenȝeit dreid dyd away,And on this wys onone begouth to say;Forsuyth, Schir kyng, I sal, quhat euer betyde,Grant to the all the verite, and nocht hyde,Nor, be na ways, me lyst nocht to denyThat of the Grekis menȝe ane am I.Thys principaly I wald thou vndyrstude;Thocht frawart fortoun miserabill and bayr of gudeHas maid Synon, sche sal nocht mak hym als,Quhat euer he says, nowder lear nor fals.Gyf euer onto ȝour eris come the name,The hie wirschip, and the renownyt fameOf Palamedes, from Belus blude discend,Quham Grekis by fals traysoun, as weil is kend,Throw corrupt witnes stanyt to ded, but les,For he the weir forbad and procurit pes;Now murn thai for his dede; and with hym heirIn falloschip, my puyr fader in weirSend me of ȝouth, as to hym neir of blude.Quhil in prosperite of the realm he stude,And Grekis ryng by counsale was rewlit wysly,Sum name of wyrschip and autorite bair I:Bot efter that by envy and haitrentOf the fals flechand Vlixes sa quent,I iape not, for that I say weyll I knaw;Fra he was slane, allace, and brocht of daw,Dolorus my lyfe I led in sturt and pane,Hevyly weyand my innocent frende thus slane.Ses couth I nocht, bot in my franacy,Gyf euer I happit my tyme forto espy,And victour haue returnyt onto Arge,I hecht to be revengit: with wordis largeThus I prouokit scharp feid and malyce baith.To me this was fyrst apperans of skaith.From thens fordwart, Vlixes mair and mayrWith new crymys begouth affray me sair,And dangerus rumour amang the commonys hedisSkalit and sew of me in diuers stedis,And, knawyng hym self gylty, by hys consaitGrathit hys wapynys of slycht and fals dissait;Nor cessit he neuer his purpos to persewQuhil the solysting of Calcas I mycht rew:Bot quharto tell I or rehersis this,That be na ways displesis ȝou, I wys?Quhy tary I my deth? and ȝe lyst, stryke;Gyf that ȝe favour all the Grekis elyke,This is enewch at ȝe haue hard of me:Now haist my pane, sen algatis I mon de.Vlixes, quhilk is kyng of Ithacy,Wald it war swa, and with gret price wald byMy deth Agamemnon als, and Menalay.Than hastit we, and brynt to heir hym say,Desyrus all the maner forto heir,Mysknawyng the gret iniquiteis seirAnd sle craftis of Grekis in euery deid.He quakand than, as it had bene for dreid,Begouth forto tell furth the remanent,Sayand on this wys, with ful dissemlyt entent:The Grekis oft in purpos war and willTo fle from Troy and leif it standand still,And, wery of thar lang weir, pas away;Wald God swa thai had done syne mony a day!The seys rage and storm thame stoppit oft,And from thar passage the north wynd onsoftHeld thame abak, in angwys and in feir;And principaly now, sen this hors was heirOf hattyr gestis beldit vp, but dowt,The stormy clowdis our al the ayr gan rowt.We, dowtyng heiron, send the preste ErypilusAnswer to seik at the tempill of Phebus,And from the secret oratory, suyth to sayn,Thir soroful tythyngis he ws brocht agane:With blude and by the slauchtir of a maid,Grekis, ȝe mesyt the wyndis first, he said,Quhen that ȝe come of Troy to the cuntre;Ȝour haym passage by blude mon fundyn be,And haue ȝour askyn by deth of a Gregyoun.Quhen to the commonys eris ran the sownOf thir wordis, with myndis affrayit, atanysThe cauld dreid ran in throu thar banys,For feir quhamto was schape this destanye,Or quho it was Apollo desyrit to die.Vlixes than, amang thame, with gret dyn,Calcas the gret dyvynour has brocht in,And bissely at hym inquiris he,By respons of the goddis, quha suld de.Than mony ane demyt to me, ful rycht,The cruel wraik of that dissaitful slycht,And quyetly persavit how it wald wend.This Calcas held his tong ten days to end,Kepand secret and cloys al his entent,Refusyng with his word ony to schent,Or to pronunce the deth of ony wyght:Skars at the last, throu gret clamour and slyghtOf Vlixes constrenyt, but mair abaid,As was devisit, the laith word furth braid,And me adiudgit to send to the altare.Tharto alhail the Grekis assentit are,And sufferit glaidly so the mater pas;Quhar as tofor eueryane tobasyt wasFor hym selwyn, tho blyth was page and knychtThe chance returnyt on a catyfe wyght.Cummyn was the duylful day that doith me grys,Quhen that of me suld be maid sacryfyce,With salt meldir, as weil the gyis is kend,Abowt my heide a garland or a bend.I grant that from the deth my self I fred,The bandis I brast, and fast away syne fledOntil a muddy marras, quhar, the dyrk nycht,Amang the rysp and redis out of sychtFull law I lurkit, quhil vp salys drew thai,Gif thai perchance be ȝit passit away.Now restis thar na hope; allace, fell me!My natyve cuntre sal I neuer se,Nor deir childryng, nor fader weil belovit,Quham, as I traist, the Grekis, all ammovitFor myne eschaping, turment sal with pane;Thai, saykles wyghtis, sal for my gilt be slane.Quharfor, Schir king, be the hie goddis abufe,And thar mychtis that trewth best knawis and lufe,And by the faith onfylit, and leil lawte,Gyf it with mortale folkis may fundyn be,Haue rewth and piete on sa feil harmys smart,And tak compassioune in thi gentill hart;Apon my wrechit sawle haue sum mercyThat gyltles sufferis sik dyseys wrangwisly.CAP. III
Ȝyt of the traytowris fals controvyt slycht,That was belevit, allace! with euery wyght.Pardon and lyfe to thir terys geif we,Quod Priamus, and mercy grantis fre.And, first of all, the mannykillis and hard bandisChargit he lows of this ilk manis handis;With frendly wordis syne thus onto hym said,Quhat evir thou art, beis mery and glaid,Forȝet the Grekis that lost ar and away,From thens fordwart thou salbe owris, perfay.Bot schaw trewly this a thing I inquer,Onto quhat fyne this huge hors was heir,Of sa gret statur beldit vp on hie:Quha wrocht the wark? quhat may it signyfie?Quhat is it? ane offerand of sum halynes?Or sum engyne of batale? as I ges,Said Priamus. Bot than the tother wight,Ful weil instrukit of Grekis art and slycht,Lowsit and laitly fred of al his bandis,Onto the starnys hevit vp his handis:O ȝhe, quod he, euerlestand lampis brycht,And ȝour dyvyne power and ȝour gret mycht,That aucht not beyn forsworn, I testefy;And ȝou altaris, and cruel swordis, quham IAm eschapit, and al ȝou goddis wysQuhais garlandis bair I as ȝour sacryfys,Leiffull is now to brek, but mair abaid,The sworn promys that I to Grekis maid;Leiffull is eik tha pepill fortil hait,And schaw furth planely al at euer I wait,Thar hyd slycht als to rype furth to the grund:To na cuntre nor lawis am I bund.Sa mot thou, Troy, quham I sal salue fra skayth,Kepe me thy promys and thi lawte baith,As I sal schaw the verite ilke deill,And for my lyfe sal rendir ȝou a gret weill.The Grekis trast and comfort, mony ȝheris,From the begynnyng of thir mortale weris,On Pallas help stude haill this towne to get:Bot efter that Thedeus, wareit get,With Vlixes, fyndar of wykkytnes,The fatale rellyk of Palladium, I ges,Furth of hir tempill, and the hallowit hald,To reif away forsabilly war so bald,And sla the wachis of the cheif castell,The haly ymage, grysly forto tell,Pollute and fylit, and with thar bludy handisHir vyrgyne valis and blissit godly garlandisPresumyt twich; sen syne has euermairBakwart of Grekis the hope went and weilfair;Thar mychtis and thar strenthis feblit fast:So frawart thame hir mynd this god hes kastThat with na dowtsum takynnys, ma than twa,Hir greif furth schew this ilke Trytonia.Skarsly the statw was in thar tempill vpset,Quhen all hir membris bittir terys swet;Hir eyn glowit as ony gleid for ire,Quharfra thar flaw mony sparkis of fyre;A teyrful thing, and wonderfull to tell;Thrys schynyng down on the grond scho fell,Hyr targe trymlyng, and schakyng fast hir speir.Onone, al most ȝe wend to sey infeir,Cryis Calcas, nor Grekis instrumentOf Troy the wallis sal neuer hurt ne rent,Les than agane the land of Arge be socht,With alkyn portage quhilk was hydder brochtIn barge or bilgeit ballyngare our see:The goddes mon be mesit als, quod he.And now, set thai, with this ilke wynd, haue sochtThar land of Grece or Myce, this is thar thocht,To graith thar armour and wapynnys by and by,And, with supple of goddis in cumpany,In haist forto return agane our see;Or ȝe beyn war, apon ȝou will thai be.Thus al per ordour declaris thame Calcas,At quhais monicioun als vp biggit wasThis bustuus form, in lyknes of a hors,For Palladium, and to appeis the forsOf the goddes, and into recompensOf thar wrachit and dolorus offens.And mairatour, of sa huge quantiteCalcas commandis beld this statw of tre,Thus large and gret, weil neir the hevyn on hycht,So at the portis it ne entyr myght,Nor ȝit be brocht within ȝour wallys wyde,Nor ȝour pepill favour, help, nor gydeEftir the auld relligioun and vsage.For gif ȝour handis had violet, in ȝour rage,This haly presand of the god Mynerve,Gret wraik suld follow that al suld ȝe sterve,Priamus ryng distroyit, and al ȝour pelf;Quhilk destany goddis turn rather in hym self!Bot gif this ilk statw, standis heir wrocht,War with ȝour handis into the cite brocht,Than schew he that the pepil of Asya,But ony obstakill, in fell batale suld ga,Bet down the townys of Arge that regioun,And the sam fait happyn our successioune.By sik wylis and slychtis, mony one,Of fals controvit and maynsworn Synone,The mater is belevit with all it heris;And takyn ar, by dissait and fenȝeit teris,Tha pepil quham the son of Thedeus,Nor fers Achilles, clepit Larysseus,Nor Grece ten ȝheris in batale mycht ourcum,Nor ȝit the thousand schippis al and sum.CAP. IV
Quhou stranglit was the prest hecht Laocon,And how the hors clam our the wallis of stone.Betyd, the ilke tyde, a fer grettar woundir,And mair dreidful to catyvis be sik hunder,Quhilk of Troianys trublit mony onwarnyt breste.As Laocon, that was Neptunus prest,And chosyn by kavill onto that ilk office,A fair gret bull offerit in sacrifyceSolemnytly befor the haly alteir,Throw the styl sey, from Tenedos, infeir,Lo! twa gret lowpit edderis, with mony thraw,Fast throu the flude towart the land gan draw.My spreit abhorris this mater to declare;Abufe the watir thar hals stude euermare,With bludy crestis owtwith the wallis hie;The remanent swam al ways vnder see,With grysly bodeis lynkit mony fald;The salt fame stowris from the fard thai hald:Onto the grund thai glaid with glowand eynStuffit full of vennom, fyre, and fellon teyn,Wyth tongis quhislyng in thar mowthis redThai lyk the twynkland stangis in thar hed.We fled away al bludeles for affeir;Bot, wyth a braid, to Laocon infeirThai start atanys; and hys twa sonnys ȝyngFirst athir serpent lappit lyke a ryng,And, with thar cruell byt and stangis fell,Of tendir membris tuke mony sary morcell;Syne thai the prest invadit, baith twane,Quhilk with hys wapynnys dyd hys byssy paneHis childryng forto helpyn and reskew.Bot thai about hym lowpit in wympillis threw,And twys cyrkyllit his myddil rownd about,And twys faldis thar sprutlit skynnys, but dowt,About hys hals; bath nek and hede thai schent:As he etlys thar hankis to haue rentOf with his handis, and thame away haue draw,Hys hed bendis and garlandis all war blawFul of vennom and rank poyson atanys,Quhilk infekkis the flesch, blude, and banys.And tharwith eik sa horribilly schowtis he,His cryis dynnyt to the sternys on hie;Lyke as a bull doith rummysing and rayr,Quhen he eschapis hurt from the altair,And charris by the ax with his nek wight,Gif on his forhed the dynt hyttis nocht rycht.Syne thir twa serpentis hastely glaid away;Onto the cheif tempil fled ar thai,Of stern Pallas to the hallowit place,And crap in vnder the feit of the goddes,Hyd thame behynd the boys of hir bukleir.Than trymlit thar mony stowt hart for feir,The onkowth dreid into thar brestis crap:All said, Laocon justly, sik was his hap,Has deir ybocht his wikkit and schrewit deid,For he the haly hors or stalwart steidWith violent strake presumyt forto deir,And tharintil to fessyn his cursit speir.Onto the hallowit sted bryng in, thai cry,The gret fygur, and lat ws sacryfyThe haly goddes, and magnyfy hyr mychtWith orysonys and offerandis day and nycht.Quhat wil ȝe mair? the barmkyn down we rent,And wallis of our cite we maid patent;Onto that wark al sped thame bissely;Turnand quhelis thai set in, by and by,Vndir the feit of this ilke bysnyng jaip;Abowt the nek knyt mony bassyn raip:This fatale monstre clam our the wallis then,Gret wamyt, and stuffit ful of armyt men;And tharabout ran childer and madis ȝyng,Syngand karrellis and dansand in a ryng;Ful weil war thame, and glaid was euery wight,That with thar hand anys twich the cordis mycht.Furth drawyn haldis this suttell hors of tre,And mannysand slydis throu the myd cite.O natyve cuntre, and rial realm of Troy!O goddis hows Ilion ful of joy!O worthy Troiane wallis chevalrus!Four tymys stoppyt that monstre peralus,Evin at the entre of the portis wyde,And four sys the armour, that ilk tyde,Clynkit and rang amyd the large belly;Bot netheles, intil our blynd fury,Forȝetting this, instantly we wirk,And forto drug and draw wald neuer irk,Quhil that myschancy monstre, quently bet,Amyd the hallowit tempill vp was set.Cassandra than the fatis to cum tald plane,Bot, by command of Phebus, al was in vane;For thocht scho spayit the suthe, and maid na bowrd,Quhat euer scho said Troianys trowit nocht a word.The tempillis of goddis and sanctuaryis all,We fey pepill, allace! quhat say I sall?Quhamtill this was the duylfull lattir day,With festuale flowris and bewys, as in May,Dyd weil anorn, and fest and ryot maidThrou owt the town, and for myscheif was glaid.CAP. V
Grekis entrys by trayson in the cite,And how Hector apperis till Ene.Wyth this, the hevyn sa quhyrlit about his speirOut of the sey the dym nycht gan appeir,With hir dyrk weid bath erth and firmamentInvolwyng, by hir secret schaddowis quentCovering Gregion and Myrmydonys slyght;Within the wallis to bed went euere wyght:Still warin all, and soft vapour of sleipApon thar wery lymmys fast doith creip.Be than the army of mony a Gregioun,Stuffit in schippis, come fra Tenedon,Stil, vnder frendly sylens of the moyn,To the kend costis speding thame ful soyn;And quhen the takynnyng, or the bail of fyre,Rays from the kyngis schip, vp byrnand schyre,Of the goddis be frawart destanySynon preservit couth this syng aspy;The fyrryn closeris oppynnys, but noys or dyn,And Grekis, hyd the horssis cost within,Patent war maid to fight and to the ayr.Joyfull and blyth, from that boys statw thar,Discending thai downlat by cordis atanysThersander and Sthenelus, twa capitanys,The dowr Vlixes als, and Athamas,Pelyus nevo Pyrrus, and kyng Thoas,The first Machaon, and Menelaus,And the engyne forgyar hait Epeus;The cite thai invaid, and fast infest,With wyne and sleip yberyit and at rest.Slane ar the wachis liggyng on the wall;Opnyt the portis, leyt in thar feris all,Togidder jonyt euery cumpany:Throu the cite sone rays the noys and scry.Thys was that tyme quhen the fyrst quyeteOf naturale sleip, to quham na gyft mair swete,Stelis on fordoverit mortale creaturis,And in thar swewynnys metis quent figuris.Lo! in my sleip, I se stand me befor,As to my syght, maist lamentabil Hector,Wyth large flude of teris, and al besprent,As he, vmquhile, eftyr the cart was rent,With barknyt blude and powder: O God, quhat skath!Boldynnyt ful gret war feit and lymmys baith,By bandis of the cordis quhilk thame drewch.Ha! walloway! quhat harm and wo eneuch!Quhat ane was he! how far changit from joyOf that Hector, quhilum returnyt to Troy,Cled with the spulȝe of hym Achillys,Or quhen the Troiane fyry blesis, I wys,On Grekis schippis, thyk fald he slang that dayQuhen that he slew the Duke Prothesylay!Hys fax and berd was fadyt quhar he stude,And all hys hayr was glotnyt ful of blude;Full mony woundis on his body bayr he,Quhilk, in defens of hys natyve cuntre,About the wallys of Troy ressavyt he had.Me thocht, I first, wepyng and na thing glaid,Rycht reuerently begouth to clepe this man,And with sik dolorus wordis thus began:O thou, of Troy the lemand lamp of lycht!O Troiane hope, maist ferm defens in fyght!Quhat has the tareit? quhy maid thou this delay,Hector, quham we desyrit mony a day?From quhat cuntre this wys cummyn art thou?That, eftir feil slauchter of thi frendis now,And of thi folkis and cite efter huge payn,Quhen we beyn irkit, we se the heir agayn!Quhat hard myschance fylyt so thi plesand face?Or quhy se I tha feil woundis, allace!Onto thir wordis he nane answer maid,Nor to my voyd demandis na thyng said,Bot with ane hevy murmour, as it war drawFurth of the boddum of his breste weil law,Allace! allace! thou goddes son, quod he,Salf thi self from this fyre, and fast thou fle;Our ennemys has thir worthy wallys tane;Troy from the top down fallys, and all is gane.Enewch has lestit of Priamus the ryng,The fatis wil na mair it induryng.Gif Pargama, the Troiane wallys wyght,Mycht langar haue beyn fendit into fyght,With this rycht hand thai suld haue be defendit;Adew! fair weil! for euer it is endit.In thi keping committis Troy, but les,Hir kyndly goddis clepit Penates;Tak thir in falloschip of thi fatis all,And large wallis for thame seik thou sall,Quhilk at the last thi self sall beld vp hie,Eftir lang wandryng and errour our the see.Thus said Hectour, and schew furth in his handisThe dreidfull valis, wymplis, and garlandisOf Vesta, goddes of the erth and fyre,Quhilk in hir tempil eternaly byrnys schyre.CAP. VI
Quhou Eneas the trayson did persave,And quhat debait he maid the town to save.In seyr placis throu the cite, wyth this,The murmur rays, ay mair and mair, I wys,And clerar wolx the rumour and the dyne:So that, suppos Anchysis my faderis InWith treys abowt stude secrete by the way,So bustuus grew the noys and furyus fray,And ratlyng of thar armour on the streit,Affrayit, I glystnyt of sleip, and start on feit;Syne to the hows hed ascendis onone,With eris prest stude thar als stil as stone.A sownd or swowch I hard thar at the last,Lyke quhen the fyre, be fellon wyndis blast,Is drevyn amyd the flat of cornys rank;Or quhen the burn on spait hurlys down the bank,Owder throu a watir brek, or spait of flude,Ryvand vp rede erd, as it war wod,Down dyngand cornys, all the pleuch laubour atanys,And dryvis on swyftly stokkis, treis and stanys:The sylly hyrd, seand this grysly syght,Set on a pynnakill of sum cragis hycht,Al abasit, nocht knawand quhat this may meyn,Wondris of the sovnd and ferly at he has seyn.Rychtso I than, by cleyr takynnys enew,Manifestly al the Grekis falshed knew;Thair hyd dissait wolx patent than to ws.The nobil lugyng of worthy DeyphobusWas fal to grond, the fyre vpspred onone;The nixt hows byrnys of Vcalegon:The large seys and costis Sygean,Throu lycht of flambis and brycht fyris, schane.Vpsprang the cry of men and trumpys blist:As out of mynd, myne armour on I thryst,Thocht be na rayson: persave I mycht, but fail,Quhat than the fors of armys couth avail;Ȝit, hand for hand, to thryng out throw the presWith my feris, and rynnyng or we cesTo the castel, our hartis brynt for desyre;The fury cachit our myndis hait as fyre,So that we thocht maist semly in a feldTo de feghtand, enarmyt vnder scheld.Bot lo! Panthus, slippit the Grekis speris,Panthus Othriades son, that, mony ȝheris,Was of the strenth, and Phebus tempill preste,Into his armys, lappit to his breist,The haly rellykkis of the sanctuary,And eik our venquist goddis, by and byWith hym beryng, and, in his hand alsso,Harlyng hym efter his litil nevo,Cummys lyke a wodman til our ȝet rynnyng.How now, Panthus, quhat tythingis do ȝe bryng?In quhat estait is sanctuary and haly geir?To quhilk other fortres sall we speir?Skars said I this, quhen, gowlyng petuusly,With thir wordis he answerd me in hy:The lattir day is cummyn of Dardanus end,The fatale tyme quham na walyng may mend;We war Troianys; vmquhile was Ilion;The schynand glory of Phrygianys now is gone:Fers Jupiter to Grece all has translait;Our al the cite, kyndillit in flambis hait,The Grekis now ar lordis but ony fors.Within the wallis, ȝone mekil standand horsȜettis furth armyt men; and now SynonIs victour haill, kyndilland eueronThe new fyris glaidly, as it war sport.At athir ȝet beyn ruschit in sik a sort,Sa mony thousandis come neuer from Myce nor Arge;Sum cumpanyis, with speris, lance and targe,Walkis wachand in rewis and narow stretis;Arrayit batalis, with drawyn swerdis at gletis,Standis reddy forto styk, gor and sla:Skarsly the wachis of the portis twaBegouth defens and melle as thai mycht,Quhen blyndlyngis in the batail fey tha fyght.Throu thir wordis of Panthus, and goddis heste,Amyd the flambis and armour in I preste;Ruschand thidder quhar sorofull Erynnys,The noys and brute me drew, and quhar, I wys,The clamour hard I rys vp to the ayr.And of our fallowis to me come twa pair:Repheus fyrst, be the lycht of the moyn,Valiant in armys Ephitus followit soyn;Hypanys syne, and eik Dymas in hy,Fast to our syde adionyt by and by;Mygdoneus son alsso, Chorebus ȝyng,Quhilk in tha days, for fey luf hait byrnyngOf Cassandra, to Troy was cummyn that ȝeir,To help Priam and Troianys in the weir;Onhappy he was, wald not beleif fermlyHys sayd spowsis command and prophecy!Quhen I thame saw this wys adionyt to me,And wilful forto stryke in the melle,Thus I begouth thame forthirmar to steir:O ȝe maist forsy ȝong men that beyn heir,Wyth brestis strang, and sa bald curage hie,Invayn ȝe pres to succur this citeQuhilk byrnys al in fyre and flambys rede;The goddis al ar fled out of this stede,Throu quhais mycht stude our empyre mony day:Now all thar templis and altaris waist leif thai.Bot gif ȝour desyre be sa fermly prestTo follow me dar tak the vtyrmest,Quhat fortune is betyd, al thingis ȝe se;Thar is na mair; lat ws togidder de,And in amyd our ennemyis army schute.To venquist folkis is a comfort and buteNane hope of help to beleif, or reskew.Swa, with thir wordis, the ȝong menis curage grew,That in the dyrk lyke ravenus wolffis, on rawis,Quham the blynd fury of thar empty mawisDryvis furth of thar den to seik thar pray,Thar litil quhelpis left with dry throtis quhil day;So, throw the wapynnys and our fays went we,Apon the ded ondowtit, and wald nocht fle.Amyd the cite we held the master streit,The dyrk nycht hyd ws with cloys schaddowis meit.