The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse
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CAP. V
Eneas arryvis at Epyria,And how he spak thar with Andromacha.Be this the son had circulit his lang ȝer,And frosty wyntir scharpit the watir cleirWith cald blastis of the northin art.Quhen sesson come that tyme was to depart,Apon a post in the tempyl I hangA bowand scheild of plait, quhilk Abas strangBair vmquhile, and, the maner to rehers,I notyfy and tytillis with this vers,Eneas hec de Danais victoribus arma;That is to say, Eneas festnyt thusThis armour of the Grekis victorius.Syne, to depart of that havyn, I commandSyt down on hechis, and span aris in hand.Byssely our folkis gan to pyngil and stryve,Swepand the flude with lang rowthys belyve,And vp thai welt the stowr of fomy see;Quhil sone the citeis of Corsyra tyne we,And vp we pyke the cost of Epyrus,And landit thar at port Chaonyus:Syne to the hie town of Butrot ascendit;Quhar tythingis, oncredibill to thame not kend it,Come to our erys, schawyng that Helenus,The lauchful son of the kyng Priamus,Rang kyng our mony citeis in Greik land,Berand tharof the ceptre and the wand,By resson of his spows adionyt, but les,Be Pyrrus vmquhil son of Achilles;And that Andromacha wes wed aganeOnto ane other husband and man Troiane.Heirof awondrit, with breist hait as fyre,Be fervent luf kendillit in gret desyreOur cuntre man to vissy and with hym talk,To knaw thir strange casys, on I stalkFrom the port, my navy left in the raid.That ilke sesson, percace, as I furth glaid,Befor the cite, in a schaw, I wys,Besyde the fenȝeit flude of Symois,Andromache maid anniuersar sacrifyceAnd funerale servyce, on ful dolorus wys,To Hectoris puldir or hys assis brynt:Oft wald scho clepe and call, and oneth stynt,Apon the sawlis that onbodeit war,Besyde Hectoris voyd tumbe stannand thar,Quhilk scho vpbeildit had of herbis greyn,With twa altaris; and oft with wepyng eynBewalis scho that hard dissyverance.And alssone as scho me aspyis perchance,And Troiane armour and ensenȝeis with me saw,Affrayit of the ferly, scho stude syk aw,And at the fyrst blenk become so mait,Naturale heyt left hir membris in sik staitQuhil to the grond half mangit fel scho down,And lay a lang tyme in a dedly swownOr ony speche or word scho mycht furth bring:Ȝit thus, at last, sayd eftir hir dwawmyng;Is that thine awyn face, and suythfast thyng?Schawis thou to me a verray sovir warnyng?Levis thou ȝit, son of the goddes? quod sche,Gif thou be ded, quhar is Hector? tell me.And, with that word, scho bryst furth mony a teir,And walit so that piete was to heir,Quhil al about dynnys of hir womentyng.A few wordis skars as I mycht furth bryng,For to comfort that maist lamentabill wight,With langsum speche said, quhispirand, as I mycht;I leif forsuyth, and ledis lyfe, as ȝe se,In al hard chance of fortunys extremyte.Be nocht agast, ȝe se bot suythfast thyng.Allace! quhat aventur, in this onkouth ryng,Is the betyd, and hes degradit, quod I,Eftir thi husbandis deth, was maist douchty?Or quhat fortune mycht sufficient happyn the,Spows to maist worthy Hector, Andromache?Art thou, or na, to Pirrus ȝit bywed?Hyr vissage down scho kest, for schame adred,And, with a bas voce, thus said, as scho mycht;O thou alane, befor al madynnys bricht,Happy was, virgyne douchtir of Priam kyng,Quhilk, vnder the wallis hie of Troys ryng,Apon thine ennemeis grafe was maid to de;Thou suffert no kut nor kavillys cast for the,Nor in bondage away was thou nocht led,Nor ȝit twichit na victour lordis bed.Bot we, quhen that ybrynt war our kynd landis,Careit our fremmyt seys and diuers strandis,The dortynes of Achillis ofspring,In bondage, vndir the prowd Pyrrus ȝyng,By fors sustenyt thraldome mony a day,Quhil he at last ensewit ane othir may,Hermyone, the douchtir of Helena,In fey wedlok at Lachidemonya;Than send he me, his seruand, hiddir thus,Tobe spowsit with his seruand Helenus.Bot Orestes, cachit in furyus rageFor cryme of his moderis slauchtir, and savage,In lufe hait byrnyng for his spows byreft,Or he was war, set on this Pirrus eft,And in Delphos, quhat nedis wordis mair?Smate of his hed befor his faderis altair.Thus, by deces of Neoptolymus,Of the realm a part fell to Helenus;The quhilk boundis and feildis braid alsswaHe has to name clepit Chaonya,Eftir his brodir of Troy Chaonyus,And Troiane wallis heir has beild vp thus,And on thir motis a strenth hait Ilion.Bot quhat wyndis thi cowrs has hydder gone?And quhat aventur has the hyddir dryve?Or of the goddis quha maid the heir arriveAt our marchis, mysknawyng our estait?Quhou faris the child Ascanyus now of lait,Quham to the bayr Crevse, thi spous and joy,That tyme enduryng the sege lay about Troy?Levis he ȝit in helth and in weilfair?Ha! how gret harm and skaith for euermarThat child has caucht throu lesyng of his moder!O lord! quhat ancyant vertuys, ane and othir,And knychtly prowes in hym steris frendis befor,Baith fader Eneas, and hys vncle Hector!Syk wordis scho spak, wepyng with petuus mayn,And with lang sobbis furthȝettand teris invayn;Quhen that hir lord hym self cummys from the town,Kyng Priamus son, Helenus of renown.Neir he approchit with ful gret cumpany,And hys awyn natyve frendis knew in hy,And blythly to hys cite hes ws led:Betwix ilk word feil bricht teris furth he sched.We passit on, and litil Troy I knaw,Lyke the gret cite contyrfait on raw,With Ilion, and wallis lyke Pergama,And a smal burn half gane dry alswa,Onto his surname clepit Exanthus.At port Seya I entir, and eik with wsAl our Troianys togiddir welcum warOnto thar frendly cite famyliar.In hys wyde palyce the kyng ressauyt thaim all,And, in the myddis of the mekil hall,Thai byrl the wyne in honour of Bachus;Gret fest with joy wes maid for luf of ws;The mesis and the danteis thyk dyd stand,And goldyn cowpis went fra hand to hand.CAP. VI
Quhou Helenus declaris tyll EneQuhat dangeris he suld thoill on land and see.Thus drave we our in solace day be day,Quhil at the weddir prouokis ws to assayOur salis agane; for the sowth wyndis blastOur piggeis and our pynsalis wavit fast.Onto the prophet Helenus tho went I,And with syk wordis besocht hym reuerently;O gentil Troiane, dyvyne interpretur,Quhilk the respons of Phebus hes in cur;Quhilk knawist eik the reuelationysOf god Apollois diuinationys,Vndir hys trestis and burdis at Delphois schene,And into Claryus vndir the lawrer greneThat vnderstandis the cowrs of euery starAnd chyrm of euery byrdis voce on far,And euery fowle on weyng fleyng in the sky,Quhat thai betakyn, and quhat thai signyfy;Say me, I pray the, quhat dangeris principalyIn to my cowrs and vayage eschew sall I,Or how I may, or be quhat meyn, eschaipSa gret aduersiteis quhilkis beyn to me schaip.For as to me al devote godly wightisSchew we suld haue a prospir rays at rychtis,And euery oracle of goddis admonyst eikThat we the realm of Italy suld seik,Ensew tha landis quhilkis war for ws provydeAlanerly newlyngis on that other syde;Schame for to say, the Harpye CelenoSpays onto ws a feirful takyn of wo;A vengeans from the goddis pronuncis sche,With schameful hungir sal happyn our menȝe.Helenus than, eftir the rytis and gyis,The ȝong bestis slew in sacryfys,Purchesyng favour of goddis to stanch thar fed,And lowsit the garlandis of his haly hed:Syne me, Phebus, he ledis by the handOnto thi tempil, on seyr materis musand;Quhar this gret preist gan spekyn and declarTo me thir wordis of the goddis answar:Son of the goddes, sen traist is manifestThat throu deip seys thi wayage is addrest,And eik, of forton by the boundis hie,The purviance dyvyne wil so it be;The kyng of goddis so distributis the fatis,Rollyng the chancis, and turnyng thame thusgatis;Of mony wordis, schortly, a quhoyn sall IDeclare, at thou mayr sovirly tharbyMay seik out throu the strange stremys onkend.And at a port of Itale arryve at end:The remanent heirof, quhat evyr be it,The werd Systeris defendis that suld be wyt,And eik the douchtir of auld Saturn, Juno,Forbyddis Helenus to speik it, and cryis, ho!First say I the, that twichand Italy,Quhilk thou trastis be at hand and fast by,And the addressis ignorantly, but weyr,To entyr sone in the port, as it war neir,Lang wylsum ways, and far landis alswaA ful gret space dissyveris ȝou tharfra.Ȝour aris fyrst into the Sycil seeBedyit weill and bendit oft mon be;And of Ausonya the salt stremys eikRownd about with ȝour schippis mon ȝe seik,And Avernus, clepit the layk of hell,And Aheie, the ile quhar Circes dwell,Or euer thou may sovirly vpbeildThi cite in land of Italy or feild.I sall the schaw takynnys tharof ful meit,Quhilkis thou sal hald within thi mynd secreit.Quhen thine alane musyng as thou sal ga,By aventur, endlang a watir braAnd vndir ane aik, fyndis, in to that steid,A gret sow ferryit of grysis thretty hed,Lyggyn on the grond, mylk quhite, al quhite brodmellAbout hir pappis sowkyng, thar, I the tell,Is the richt place and sted for ȝour cite,And of ȝour travell ferm hald to rest in le.Nor the nedis nocht to gruch, in tyme tocum,The rungyng of ȝour tabillis euery crum:Destany sal fynd tharfor a ganand way,And Phebus sal ȝou help, quhen ȝe list pray.Bot ombyschew this cost of ItalyQuhilk nixt onto our bordouris ȝhe se ly,Bedyit with flowyng of our seys flude,Sen al tha citeis with wykkit Grekis, not gude,Inhabit ar; for the Naricyanys,Othir wys nemmyt Locry, thar remanys,Quhilk come with Aiax Oylus to the fecht;And, neir the hill that Salentynus hecht,The feildis all ar occupyit full meitBe Idomeneus the kyng expellit from Crete;Thar is alsso the litil cite, but les,Of the Duke of Melyboy, Phyloctetes,Clepit Petilya, closyt with a wall:Eschew thir citeis and thyr costis all.Forthir, quhen that beȝond the sey sall standAll thi navy, and thar apon the strandSettis vp ane altare thi sacrifyce to ȝeild,Thyne haris with a purpur vail ourheild,Les than amyd the godly fyris, per cace,Thi ennemeis mycht occur, and knaw thi face,And so perturbyng all thi sacrifyce:Thou caws thi feris keip the samyn gysIn thar oblacionys, and this vsage condyng;Observe, thi self and thi chaist ofspring,Every serimony of our religioun.And, fra the wynd haith set thi cours adounFrom Itale towart the cost of Sycilly,And the strait sowndis of the mont PeloryVanysys away peys and peys, than the landStrekis all tyme towart the left hand,And the left syde lang salt thou, but dowt,Cyrkil, and sail mony seys about:On the richt syde the cost and wallis evaid;For tha partis vmquhile, as it is sayd,Be fors of storm war in sondir ryfe,And a huge deip gat thar holkit belyfe.Behald quhat change and sa onkouth a kastMay be mysknaw, throw tymys lang bipast;For, quhen that baith tha landis war al ane,The seys rage draif in, and maid thame twane,And fors of streym from the syde of ItaleThe ile of Sycill devydit hes al haill;Ane narow fyrth flowis, baith evyn and morn,Betwix tha costis and citeis in sondir schorn.The rycht syde tharof with Scilla ombeset is,And the left with insaciabil Carybdys;Quhar, in hir bowkit bysme, that hellys belchThe large fludis suppys thrys in a swelch,And othir quhilis spowtis in the ayr agane,Dryvand the stowr to the starnys, as it war rane.Bot Scilla lurkand in darn hyddyllis lyis,Within hir cave, spredand hyr mouth feil syisTo sowk the schippis amang rolkis onsure.Lyke to a woman hir ovyr portrature,A fair virgynys body doun to hir scheir;Bot hir hynd partis ar als gret, weil neir,As beyn a hydduus huddon, or a quhaill,Quharto beyn cuppillit mony meyrswyne taill,With empty mawys of wolfis ravenus:Eschew, tharfor, this passage dangerus;For bettir is thou seik the cost aboutOf Pachynus in Scycill, than stand in dout,And turn thi cowrs on bawburd, a weil far way,Than anys tobe into sa hard assayAs forto se the vgly monstre fell,Scilla, and heir the craggis rowt and ȝellFor barking of sey doggis in hir wame.And mair atour, gif owthir wit, or fame,Or traist may be geif Helenus the prophete,Or gif with verite Phebus inspiris hys sprete,This a thing, son of the goddes, I the tech,Abuf al othir, this a thyng I the prech,And principaly repetis the sam agane,And seir tymys monysis heir in plane;First of Juno thou wirschip the gret mycht,And glaidly hallow with sacrifice al at rychtThe power of Juno, and that mychty pryncesTo ples lawly with offerandis the addres:And on sik wys quhen thou hir favouris hes get,And hest alsso thi cours from Sycil setTowart the boundis of Italy our see,Syne, quhen thou art careit to that cuntre,And cummyn is to the cite of Cumas,And by the lakys dedicate to goddis doith pasOutthrou the soundand forest of Avern,Vndir a roch, law within a cavern,Thar salt thou fynd the godly prophetes,Ful of the spreit dyvyne, that schawis expresThe reuelationys and fatis forto cum,In palm tre leiffis thame notand al and sum,Writand vp euery word as sal betyde,Direkking the leiffis per ordour furth on syde.Quhat euer this virgyne discrive in hir endyte,Without the cave closyt scho lays the write:Tha leiffis remanys onsterit of thar place,Ne partis not furth of rewle, quhil per caceThe piping wynd blaw vp the dur on char,And dryve the leiffis, and blaw thaim out of harIn at the entre of the cave agane,That al hir fyrst laubour was invane:Bot, fra the blast and ȝet pertrubbil thusTha thyn leiffis, scho is so dangerus,Nevir eftyr denȝeing hir within the caveTo gaddir togiddir thame with the wynd bewave.Ne forto put thame into rewle agane,Nor jone hir writis as thai dyd first remane.Thus oft the pepil but answer gays thar ways,And wareis the set of Sybil al thar days.Fail not, for los of tyme that may betyde,Bot thou pas to that prophetes, thocht the tydeAnd prospir wyndis challance the to the saill,Ȝa, thocht thi fallowyis cry owt, illyr haill!On burd! a fair wynd blawis betwix twa schetis!Beseik hir or thou wend, thocht thine hart betis,Oppynnand hir voce, scho plesit schaw the evynThy destaneys, be hir awyn mowthis stevin.Scho sal ryply declare to the in hyThe maneris of al pepill in Italy;The batellis forto cum scho wil the schaw,And on quhat wys al dangeir thou sal withdraw.Or how thou may al lauborus payn sustene;Wirschip this haly religyus woman cleyn,Scho sal the grant a prospir cours at hand.This is the effect, schortly to vnderstand,That I am levyt with my wordis the to charge:Adew, pas on, and by thi fatis largeThe fame of mekil Troy bair vp to hevyn!Eftir at this prophet, with hys frendly stevyn,Thir dyvyne answeris thus pronosticate,Seyr weghty gyftis of massy goldyn plateOnto our schippis chargit he beir onon,And gret ryches of polyst eveir bone:Our karvellis howys ladis and prymys heWith huge charge of syluer in quantite.With caldronys, and othir seir veschell ma,In Epyr land maid at Dodonea.To me he gaif a thik clowyt habyrgeon,A thrynfald hawbrik was al gold begone,A rownd rich helm with creste and tymbrete fair,The armour quhilum Neoptolemus bair:Syne to my fader, effering to his age,Rych rewardis he gaif of hie parage;Tharto alsso he eikis and gaif ws thenGentill horssis, pylotis, and lodismen;He ws suppleyt with rowaris and maryneris,And armour plente atanys for al our feris.CAP. VII
Of Helenus and of Andromache,And how fra thame departing gan Ene.In the meyn quhile Anchisis, my fader, in hyReddy forto sail chargis mak our navy,Les than, percace, it mycht our cours delay,Gif so the wynd blew fair that othir day;Quhom till this wys interpretour of Phebus,Helenus, with gret honour carpys thus:O thou Anchisis, that worthy was, quod he,With fair Venus conionyt for to be,And twys delyverit by purviance dyvyne,And twys eschapit of Troy the sayr rewyne,Lo! ȝondir for the Ausonya or Itaill;Onto ȝone cost syde ȝondir salt thou saill.And netheles, thocht it be necessarOut our the sey to ȝondir grond ȝe fair,That part of Itale is a far way hyneQuhilk is previdyt ȝour kyn be Appollyne.Wend on, says he, thou happy and fortunateOf thi devote son by the godly estate.Bot quharto suld I mak langar delay?As I haue said, fayr weil, pas on ȝour way;Quhat nedis with my speche ȝou tary mor,Or stop this fair wynd blawing evyn befor?This not theles, Andromacha, wo begone,The lattir tyme we suld depart onon,Brocht to ws brusyt clathis, and rych wedis,Figuryt and prynnyt all with goldyn thredis,And to Ascanyus a prowd tawbart gaveSik as was honorabill hym to weir and have;Hym and his feris of hir nedyll warkAnd wovyn dowreys furnyst, worth mony mark:And thus scho said, my child, ressaue alswaThir remembrance wrocht with my handis twa,In takyn lang tyme to thynkyng apon me,Thine vncle Hectouris wife, Andromache:Tak thir with the as lattir presandis seirOf thi kynd natyve frendis gudis and geir.O leif is me! the lykast thing levyng,And verray ymage of my Astianax ȝyng!Syk eyn had he, and syk fair handis tway,For all the warld, syk mowth and face, perfay:And, gif he war on lyve quhil now infeir,He had bene evyneild with the, and hedy peir.Quhat wil ȝe mair? quhen we behuffyt depart,Terys brysting furth on fors, and with sair hart,To thame I said; deir frendis, weil ȝe be,Weil mot ȝe leif in ȝour felicite,Quhamtill the prospir forton is brocht till end:Bot we, from werd to werd, and chance, mon wend.Ȝour rest is fund, ȝou nedis sewch throw na seys,Nor seik feildis of Itail, that evir ws fleys:Symylytude of Exanthus, and Troy ȝe seQuhilk ȝour awyn warkis hes beldit vp on hie;God grant in bettyr tyme thai be begunnyn,And neuer eft with Grekis fors ourrunnyn!Gif evir in Tybir to entyr me betydis,And, on the feildis neirby Tybris sydis,May behald wallis vpset for my menȝe,Or may the frendly citeis sum tyme se,Lat ws of Epyrus and of Italy,Cummyn baith of Dardanus genealogy,And quhamto eik the chance of fortoun is ane,Mak but a Troy of athir realmys twane;And this sam lyge with our posteriteSal evir remane in faith and vnyte.CAP. VIII
Quhar fyrst Eneas Itale dyd aspy,And mony strange wentis hes salyt by.Furth on, with this, throu owt the sey we slyde,By the forland Cerawnya fast beside,Quhar fra, out our the fludis forto saill,The schortast way and cours lyis to Itaill.Down gois the son be than, and hillis hieWolx dyrknyt with schaddowis of the sky;We sort our aris, and chesis rowaris ilke deill,And at a sownd or cost we likit weillWe strike at nycht, and on the dry strandisDyd bawne and beyk our bodeys, feyt, and handis.Sone on our irkyt lymmys, lethis, and banysThe naturale rest of sleip slaid al atanys.And, or the speyre his howris rollit richtSa far about that it was scars mydnycht,Not sweir, bot in hys dedis deligent,Palynurus furth of his cowch vpsprent,Lysnyng about, and harknyng our alquharWith erys prest to kep the wynd or ayr.Of euery starn the twynklyng notis heThat in the still hevyn move cours we se,Arthuris huyf, and Hyades betakynnand rayn,Syne Watlyng streit, the Horn, and the Charle wayn,The fers Orion with hys goldyn glave;And, quhen he hes thame eueryane persaueInto the cleir and serene firmament,Furth of his eft schip a bekyn gart he stent:We rays, and went on burd in our the waill,Syne slakis down the schetis, and maid sayll.Be this the dawyng gan at morn walx red,And chasit away the starnys fra euery sted;The dym hillis on far we dyd aspy,And saw the law landis of Italy.Italy! Italy! fyrst cryis Achates,Syne al our feris of clamour micht nocht ces,Bot with a voce atanys cryis, Itaill!And hailsyng gan the land with hey and haill.Than my fader, ammyral of our flote,A mekil tankart with wyne fild to the throte,And tharon set a garland or a crown,And to the goddis maid this orysoun,Sittand in the hie eft castell of our schip,With ful devote reverens and wirschip:O ȝe, quod he, goddis haldis in pousteWeddir and stormys, the land eik and the se,Grant our vayage ane esy and reddy wynd,Inspyre ȝour favouris that prospir cours we fynd.Scars this wes said, quhen, evyn at our desyre,The sessonabil ayr pipis vp fair and schyre;The havyn apperis, and thiddir nerrar we draw,And of Mynerva the strang tempill sawSet in the castell apon ane hillis hycht.Our fallowis fangis in thar salys tyght,And towart the cost thar stevynnys dyd addres.A port thar is, quham the est fludis hes,In maner of a bow, maid bowle or bay,With rochys set forgane the streym ful stay,To brek the salt fame of the seys stowr:On athir hand, als hie as ony towr,The byg hewis strekis furth lyke a wall:Within the hawyn goith lown, but wynd or wall,And at the port the tempill may not be seyn.Heir fyrst I saw apon the plesand greynA fatale takyn, fowr horssis quhite as snawGnyppand gresys the large feildis on raw.Ha! lugyn land, batale thou ws pretendis,Quod my fader Anchisis; for, as weil kend is,Horssis ar dressit for the bargane feil sys;Weir and debait thir stedis signyfyis.Bot, sen the sammyn four futtit bestis eikBeyn oft vsyt, ful towartly and meik,To draw the cart, and thoil brydill and renȝe,It is gude hope pace follow sal, says he.Than wirschip we the godhed and gret mychtOf Pallas, with clattering harnes fers in fyght,Quhilk heth ws first ressauyt glaid and gay:Our hedis befor the altar we arrayWith valys brown, eftir the Troiane gys,And, onto Juno of Arge, our sacryfysMaid reuerently, as Helenus vs bad,Obseruyng weil, as he commandyt had,The serymonys leill. Syne, but langar delay,Fra that perfurnyst was our offerand day,Onon the nokkis of our rays we writh;Down fallys the schetis of the salys swith:The Gregionys herbry and fronteris suspekWe left behynd, and efter, in effek,Of Taurentum the fyrth we se, but les,Biggit, as thai say, by worthy Hercules;And, our forgane the tother syde alsso,Rays vp Lacynya the tempill of Juno;Of Cawlon cite eik the wallys hie,And Scyllacium quhar schipbrokyn mony be.Syne, far of in the flude, we gan aspyThe byrnand Ethna into Sycilly,And a fell rage rowting of the seyAlang way thens, and on the rolkis hieWe hard the jawpys bete, and at the costA hyduus brayng of brokyn seys vost:Apon schald bankis boldynnys hie the flude:The stowr vpbullyrris sand as it war wode.My fader than cryis, how! feris, help away,Streke aris atanys with all the fors ȝe may;No wondir this is the selkouth Caribdis:Thir horribill rolkis and craggis heir, I wys,Helenus the prophete ful weil dyd ws declare.The sammyn wys as thai commandyt wareThai dyd onon, and Pallynurus fyrstHard halys the schete on syde, and fast gan thrystThe forschip to the wallis and the tyde,Saland on bawburd towart the left syde;Towart the left, with mony heys and haill,Socht all our flot fast baith with rowth and saill.The swelland swyrl vphesyt ws til hevyn;Syne wald the waw swak ws doun ful evyn,As it apperit, vnder the sey to hell.Thrys the holkyt craggis hard we ȝell,Quhar as the swelch had the rolkis thyrlyt;And thrys the fame furth spowt, that so hie quhirlytIt semyt watir the starnys, as we thocht.Be this the son went to, and ws forwrochtLeft dissolat; the wyndis calmyt eik:We, not bekend quhat rycht cours mycht we seik,War warp to seywart by the outwart tydeOf Ciclopes onto the costis syde.The port, quhamto we cappit, wes ful large,And, fra al wyndis blast, for schip or bargeSovir al tyme: bot netheles, fast by,The grisly Ethna dyd rummyll, schudder and cry;Sum tyme thrawing owt, heich in the skyis,The blak laithly smoke that oft dyd rysAs thunderis blast, and rekand as the pyk,With gledis sparkand as the hail als thik;Vpspring the blesis and fyry lumpis we se,Quhilk semyt forto lik the starnys hie;Sum tyme it rasyt gret rochys, and oft willFurth bok the bowellis or entralis of the hyll,And lowsyt stanys vpwarpys in the ayrRownd in a sop, with mony crak and rayr:The stew of byrnand heyt law from the grondVpstrikis thar, that doith to hevyn rebound.The rumour is, doun thrung vndir this montEnchelades body with thundir lyis half bront,And hydduus Ethna abufe his belly set;Quhen he lyst gant or blaw, the fyre is bet,And from that furnys the flambe doith brist or glide:Quhou oft he turnys our his irkit sydeAll Sycil trymblys, quaking with a rerd,And vgly stew ourquhelmys hevyn and erd.That nycht, lurkand in woddis, we remane,Of feirfull monstris sufferand mekil pane;Bot quhat causyt syk noys na thing we saw:For nowthir lycht of planetis mycht we knaw,Nor the brycht poyll, nor in the ayr a starn,Bot in dyrk clowdis the hevynnys warpit darn;The moyn was vndir walk and gave na lycht,Haldyn ful dym throu myrknes of the nycht.CAP. IX
Of the Greik clepit AchemenydesRehersyng Ene the natur of Ciclopes.The secund day be this sprang fra the est,Quhen Aurora the wak nycht dyd arestAnd chays fra hevyn with hir dym skyis donk:Than suddanly, furth of the woddis ronk,We se a strange man, of form onknaw;A lenar wight, na mayr pynyt, I ne saw,Nor ȝit sa wrachitly beseyn a wy;Towart the cost, quhar that we stude in hy,Hys handis furth he strekis askand supple.We hym behald, and al hys cors gan seMaist laithly ful of ordur, and hys berdRekand doun the lenth neir of a ȝerd;Hys tawbart and array sewyt with breris:Bot he was Greik be all hys othir feris,And vmquhile was, as eftir weil we kend,To Troy intil hys faderis armour send.This ilk man, fra he beheld on farTroiane habitis, and of our armys wes war,At the first sicht he styntit and stude aw,And fra hys pays begouth abak to draw;Bot sone eftyr cummys rynnyng in a raysDown to the schoir, wepyng and askand grace:O ȝe Troianys, be all the planetis, quod he,Be all the starnys and the goddis hie,And be the hailsum spreit of hevynnys lycht,I beseik tak me with ȝou, catyve wycht,And leid me in quhat land at euer ȝe ples:That may suffys; that war my hartis eys.I knaw me ane of the Grekis navy;In weir to Troy cuntre, I grant, socht I;For the quhilk deid, gyf that of our trespasSa gret the offence and the iniurys was,Rent me in pecis, and in the fludis swak,Or drown law vndir the large seys brak.Gyf that I perych, it is ȝit sum comfortThat I of mennys handis deing at schort.Quod he; and tharwith, grulyng on hys kneis,He lappit me fast by baith the theys:We hym exort to schaw quhat was his name,Of quhat kynrent and blude cummyn at hame,And syne to tell quhat forton had hym betyde.My fader Anchisis na ma wordis wald byde,Bot furthwith gaue that ȝong man his richt hand,And assurys hys spreit with that presand:He at the last this dreid has done away,And on this wys begouth to carp and say;Of the realm Itachia I am, but les,And of the cumpany of fey Vlixes,And Achemenydes onto name I hait,Cummyn onto Troy with my fader of lait,Bot a puyr wageour, clepyt Adamastus;Wald God ȝit the sam forton remanyt to ws!My falloschip onwytting forȝet me heir,Quhen tha thir cruel marchys left for feir,And in the Ciclopes huge cave tynt me;A gowsty hald within, laithly to se,Ful of vennom and mony bludy meys.Bustuus hie Poliphemus set at deysThar remanys, that may the starnys schaik;Ȝe goddis delyvir this erd from sik wraik!For he is vgsum and grysly forto se,Hutyt to speke of, and aucht not nemmyt be.Thir wrachit mennys flesch, that is hys fude,And drynkis worsum, and thar lappyrrit blude.I saw myself quhen, gruflyngis amyd his cave,Twa bodeys of our sort he tuke and rayf;Intil hys hyddus hand thame thrymlyt and wrang,And on the stanys owt thar harnys dang,Quhil brayn, and eyn, and blude al poplit owt:I saw that cruel fend eik thar, but dowt,Thar lymmys ryfe and eyt, as he war woid,The ȝoustir tharfra chirtand and blak blude,And the hait flesch vndir his teith flykkerand.Bot not onwrokyn, forsuyth, this feste he fand;Nor Vlixes list not lang suffyr this,Ne this kyng of Itachy hym self nor hisMyghtyn forȝet, into sa gret a plyght.For sammyn as that horribyll fendlich wightHad eyt his fyll, and drunk wyne he hym gave,Sowpit in sleip, his nek furth of the caveHe straucht, fordronkyn, lyggyng in his dreymBokkis furth and ȝyskis of ȝowstyr mony streym,Raw lumpys of flesch and blude blandyt with wyne.We the gret goddys besocht, and kavillys syneKastis, quhat suld be euery mannys part;Syne al atanys abowt and on hym start,And, with a scharpyt and brynt steyng of tre,Out dyd we boyr and pyke hys mekil E,That lurkit alane vndyr hys thrawyn front large,Als braid as is a Gregioun scheild or targe,Or lyke onto the lantern of the moyn:And thus at last haue we ravengit soynBlithly the gostis of our feris ded.Bot ȝhe, onhappy men, fle from this sted,Fle, fle this cost, and smyte the cabil in twane!For quhou grysly and how gret I ȝou saynLurkis Polyphemus, ȝymmand his beystis rouch,And al thar pappis mylkis throuch and throuch,Ane hundreth otheris, als huge of quantite,Endlang this ilke costis syde of the se,Gret Ciclopes inhabitis heir and thar,And walkis in thir hie montanys our alquhar.The moyn hes now fyllyt hir hornys thrysWith new lyght sen I haue, on this wys,My lyfe in woddis led, but syght of men,In desert hyrnys and seyr wild beistis den,And far out from my cavern dyd aspyThe grym Ciclopes, and oft thar grysly cryAnd eik stamping of thar feyt maid me trymmyl.My wrachit fude was berreis of the brymmyll,And stanyt heppis, quhilk I on buskis fand,With rutis of herbis I holkit furth of land:And vyssyand al about, I se at lastThis navy of ȝowris drawing hyddir fast,Quhamto I me betaucht and gan avow,Quhat flote at euer it was; for wayt ȝe quhouIt is enuch that I eschapyt haueȜone cruel pepil; I set not of the lave:For, rather ȝe or I fal in syk wraik,Quhat deith ȝe pleis, the lyfe fra me gar taik.