by Virgil
So at the portis it ne entyr myght,
Nor it be brocht within our wallys wyde,
Nor our pepill favour, help nor gyde
Eftir the auld relligioun and vsage.
For gif our handis had violet, in our rage,
This haly presand of the god Mynerve,
Gret wraik suld follow that al suld e sterve,
Priamus ryng distroyit and al our pelf —
Quhilk destany goddis turn rather in hym self!
Bot gif this ilk statw, standis heir wrocht,
War with our handis into the cite brocht,
Than schew he that the pepill 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.’
Be 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 feneit teris
Tha pepil quham the son of Thedeus,
Nor fers Achilles, clepit Larysseus,
Nor Grece ten heris in batale mycht ourcum,
Nor it the thousand schippis al and sum.”
Quhou stranglit was the prest hecht Laocon
And how the hoss 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 sacrifyce
Solemnytly 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 halss stude euermare,
With bludy crestis owtwith the wallis hie;
The remanent swam always vnder see,
With grysly bodeis lynkit mony fald;
The salt fame stowris from the fard thai hald.
Onto the grund thai glaid with glowand eyn
Stuffit ful of vennom, fyre and fellon teyn,
Wyth tongis quhislyng in thar mowthis rede
Thai lyk the twynkland stangis in thar hed.
We fled away al bludeless for affeir,
Bot, wyth a braid, to Laocon infeir
Thai stert atanys, and hys twa sonnys yng
First 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 pane
His childryng forto helpyn and reskew.
Bot thai about hym lowpit in wympillis threw
And twyss cyrkyllit his myddil rownd about
And twyss faldis thar sprutlit skynnys but dowt
About hys hals — bath nek and hede thai schent.
As he etlys thar hankis to haue rent
Of with his handis, and thame away haue draw,
Hys hed bendis and garlandis all war blaw
Ful 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 goddess,
Hyd thame behynd the boyss of hir bukleir.
Than trymlit thar mony stowt hart for feir,
The onkowth dreid into thar brestis crap.
All said, ‘Laocon iustly, sik was his hap,
Has deir ybocht his wikkit and schrewit deid,
For he the haly horss or stalwart steid
With violente strake presumyt forto deir
And tharintil to fessyn his cursit speir.
Onto the hallowit sted bryng in,’ thai cry,
‘The gret fygur! And lat wss sacryfy
The haly goddes, and magnyfy hyr mycht
With orysonys and offerandis day and nycht!’
Quhat wil e 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 iaip,
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 yng
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 howss, Ilion ful of ioy!
O worthy Troiane wallis chevalrus!
Four tymys stoppyt that monstre peralus,
Evin at the entre of the portis wyde,
And four syss the armour, that ilk tyde,
Clynkit and rang amyd the large belly;
Bot netheless, intil our blynd fury
Foretting 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 tocum tald plane,
Bot, by command of Phebus, al was invane,
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 maid
Throu owt the town, and for myscheif was glaid.”
Grekis entrys by trayson in the cite,
And how Hector apperis till Ene.
“Wyth this the hevyn sa quhyrlit about his speir
Out of the sey the dym nycht gan appeir,
With hir dyrk weid bath erth and firmament
Involwyng, by hir secret schaddowis quent
Covering Gregion and Myrmydonys slyght;
Within the wallis to bed went euere wyght;
Still war in all, and soft vapour of sleip
Apon 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
Rayss from the kyngis schip, vp byrnand schyre,
Of the goddis be frawart destany
Synon preservit couth this syng aspy,
The fyrryn closeris oppynnys, but noys or dyn,
And Grekis hyd the horssis cost within
Patent war maid to sight and to the ayr.
Ioyfull and blyth from that boyss statw thar
Discending, thai downlat by cordis atanys
Thersander and Sthenelus, twa capitanys,
The dowr Vlixes als, and Athamas,
Pelyus nevo Pyrrus, and Kyng Thoas,
The first Machaon, and Menelaus,
And t
he 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 ionyt euery cumpany:
Throu the cite sone rayss the noyss and scry.
Thys was that tyme quhen the fyrst quyete
Of 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 ioy
Of that Hector, quhilum returnyt to Troy
Cled with the spule of hym Achillys,
Or quhen the Troiane fyry blesis, I wyss,
On Grekis schippis thyk fald he slang that day
Quhen 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 wyss 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 draw
Furth 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 ennemyss 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 Pergama, 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 less
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 handis
The dreidfull valis, wymplis and garlandis
Of Vesta, goddes of the erth and fyre,
Quhilk in hir tempil eternaly byrnys schyre.”
Quhou Eneas the trayson dyd persave,
And quhat debait he maid the town to save.
“In seyr placis throu the cite wyth this
The murmur rayss, ay mair and mair I wyss,
And clerar wolx the rumour and the dyne,
So that, supposs Anchyss my faderis in
With 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 howssis 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.
Rycht so I than by cleyr takynnys enew
Manifestly al the Grekis falshed knew —
Thair hyd dissait wolx patent than to wss.
The nobil lugyng of worthy Deyphobus
Was fal to grond, the fyre vpspred onone;
The nixt howss 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 forss of armys couth avail,
it hand for hand to thryng out throw the press
With my feris, and rynnyng or we cess
To the castel, our hartis brynt for desyre.
The fury cachit our myndis hait as fyre,
So that we thocht maist semly in a feld
To de feghtand, enarmyt vnder scheld.
Bot lo, Panthus, slippit the Grekis speris,
Panthus Othriades son, that mony heris
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 by
With hym beryng, and in his hand alsso
Harlyng hym efter his litil nevo,
Cummys lyke a wodman til our et rynnyng.
‘How now, Panthus, quhat tythingis do e bryng?
In quhat estait is sanctuary and haly geir?
To quhilk other fortress 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 Iupiter to Grece all hass translait.
Our al the cite, kyndillit in flambis hait,
The Grekis now ar lordis but ony forss.
Within the wallis one mekil standand horss
ettis furth armyt men, and now Synon
Is victour haill, kyndilland eueron
The new fyris glaidly, as it war sport.
At athir et 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 twa
Begouth defens and melle as thai mycht,
Quhen blyndlyngis in the batail fey iha 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 wyss
The clamour hard
I ryss 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 yng,
Quhilk in tha days, for fey luf hait byrnyng
Of Cassandra, to Troy was cummyn that eir
To help Priam and Troianys in the weir —
Onhappy he was, wald not beleif fermly
Hys sayd spowsis command and prophecy.
Quhen I thame saw this wyss adionyt to me
And wilful forto stryke in the melle,
Thus I begouth thame forthirmar to steir:
‘O e maist forsy ong men that beyn heir,
Wyth brestis strang and sa bald curage hie,
Invayn e press to succur this cite
Quhilk 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 our desyre be sa fermly prest
To follow me dar tak the vtyrmest,
Quhat fortune is betyd, al thingis e se.
Thar is na mair — lat ws togidder de,
And in amyd our ennemyis army schute.
To venquist folkis is a comfort and bute
Nane hope of help tobeleif, or reskew.’
Swa with thir wordis the ong menis curage grew
That in the dyrk lyke ravenus wolffis on rawis
Quham the blynd fury of thar empty mawis
Dryvis 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 cloyss schaddowis meit.”
The woful end per ordour heir, allace,
Followys of Troy, and gestis of Eneas.
“Quha sal the harmys of that woful nycht
Expreme? Or quha with tong to tell hes mycht
Sa feil ded corsis as thar lyis slane?
Or thocht in cace thai weip quhil teris rayn
Equaly may bewail tha sorowis all?
The ancyant, worthy cite down is fall
That mony eris held hie seneory.
Stekit in stretis heir and thar thai ly,
Feil corsis ded of mony onweldy wyght,
Dung down in howsis, fey thai fal all nycht,
In sanctuarys and templis of goddis eik;
Na quhar mercy nor succor mycht thai seik.
And not only of Troianys throu owt the town
The blude is sched, thus marthyrit and slane down,
Bot sum tyme eik to thame, ourcummyn and schent,
Agane returnys in brestis hardyment,
So that sum Grekis victoris war smyte ded.
