by Virgil
Bot quharto suld I mak langar delay?
As I haue said, fayr weil, pass on our way!
Quhat nedis with my speche ou tary mor
Or stop this fair wynd blawing evyn befor?’
This not theless, Andromacha, wo begone,
The lattir tyme we suld depart onon,
Brocht to wss brusyt clathis and rych wedis
Figuryt and prynnyt all with goldyn thredis,
And to Ascanyus a prowd tawbart gave
Sik as was honorabill hym to weir and have;
Hym and his feris of hir nedyll wark
And wovyn dowreys furnyst, worth mony mark:
And thus scho said, ‘My child, ressaue alswa
Thir remembrance wrocht with my handis twa,
In takyn lang tyme to thynkyng apon me,
Thyne vncle Hectouris wife, Andromache:
Tak thir with the as lattir presandis seir
Of thi kynd natyve frendis gudis and geir.
O leif is me! the lykast thing levyng,
And verray ymage of my Astianax yng!
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 hadbene evyneild with the, and hedy pair.’
Quhat wil e mair? quhen we behuffyt depart,
Terys brysting furth on forss, and with sair hart,
To thame I said: ‘Deir frendis, weil e be,
Weil mot e leif in our felicite,
Quhamtill the prospir forton is brocht till end;
Bot we, from werd to werd, and chance, mon wend.
our rest is fund, ou nedis sewch throw na seys,
Nor seik feildis of Itail, that evir ws fleys;
Symilytude of Exanthus and Troy e se
Quhilk our awyn warkis hes beldit vp on hie —
God grant in bettyr tyme thai be begunnyn,
And neuer eft with Grekis forss ourrunnyn!
Gif evir in Tybir to entyr me betydis,
And, on the feildis neirby Tybris sydis,
May behald wallis vpset for my mene,
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 bot a Troy of athir realmys twane,
And this sam lyge with our posterite
Sal evir remane in faith and vnyte.’”
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 courss lyis to Itaill.
Down gois the son be than, and hillis hie
Wolx dyrknyt with schaddowis of the sky;
We sort our aris, and chesis rowaris ilke deill,
And at a sownd or cost we likit weill
We strike at nycht, and on the dry strandis
Dyd bawne and beyk our bodeys, feyt and handis.
Sone on our irkyt lymmys, lethis and banys
The naturale rest of sleip slaid al atanys,
And, or the speyre his howris rollit richt
Sa 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 alquhar
With erys prest to kep the wynd or ayr.
Of euery starn the twynklyng notis he
That in the still hevyn move courss 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 persaue
Into the cleir and serene firmament,
Furth of his eft schip a bekyn gart he stent:
We rayss 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 mycht nocht cess,
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 e’ quod he, ‘goddis haldis in pouste
Weddir and stormys, the land eik and the se,
Grant our vayage ane esy and reddy wynd,
Inspyre our favouris that prospir courss 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 saw
Set in the castell apon ane hillis hycht.
Our fallowis fangis in thar salys tyght,
And towart the cost thar stevynnys dyd address.
A port thar is, quham the est fludis hess,
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 stour.
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 greyn
A fatale takyn, fowr horssis quhite as snaw
Gnyppand gresys the large feildis on raw.
‘Ha! lugyn land, batale thou ws pretendis,’
Quod my fader Anchiss, ‘for as weil kend is,
Horssis ar dressit for the bargane feil syss;
Weir and debait thir stedis signyfyiss.
Bot, sen the sammyn four futtit bestis eik
Beyn oft vsyt, ful towartly and meik,
To draw the cart and thoil brydill and rene,
It is gude hope pace follow sal,’ says he.
Than wirschip we the godhed and gret mycht
Of Pallas, with clattering harnes ferss in fyght,
Quhilk heth ws first ressauyt glaid and gay:
Our hedis befor the altar we array
With valys brown, eftir the Troiane gyss,
And onto Iuno of Arge our sacryfyss
Maid reuerently, as Helenus vss 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 suspek
We left behynd, and efter, in effek,
Of Taurentum the fyrth we se but less
(Biggit, as thai say, by worthy Herculess),
And, our forgane the tother syde alsso,
Rayss vp Lacynya the tempill of Iuno,
Of Cawlon cite eik the wallys hie,
And Scyllacium quhar schipbrokyn mony be.
Syne, far of in the flude, we gan aspy
The byrnand Ethna into Sycilly,
And a fell rage rowting of the sey
Alang way thens, and on the rolkis hie
We hard the iawpys bete, and at the cost
A hydduus brayng of brokyn seys bost —
Apon schald bankis boldynnys hie the flude;
The stowr vpbullyrris sand as it w
ar wode.
My fader than cryis, ‘Howe! feris, help away,
Streke aris atanys with all the forss e may!
No wondir this is the selkouth Caribdis;
Thir horribbill rolkis and craggis heir, I wyss,
Helenus the prophete ful weil dyd ws declare.’
The sammyn wyss as thai commandyt ware
Thai dyd onon, and Pallynurus fyrst
Hard halys the schete on syde, and fast gan thryst
The forschip to the wallis and the tyde,
Saland on bawburd towart the left syde;
Towart the left, with mony heyss 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.
Thryss the holkyt craggis hard we ell,
Quhar as the swelch had the rolkis thyrlyt;
And thryss the fame furth spowt, that so hie quhirlyt
It semyt watir the starnys, as we thocht.
Be this the son went to, and ws forwrocht
Left dissolat; the wyndis calmyt eik.
We, not bekend quhat rycht courss mycht we seik,
War warp to seywart by the outwart tyde
Of Ciclopes onto the costis syde.
The port quhamto we cappit wes ful large,
And fra al wyndis blast for schip or barge
Sovir al tyme, but netheless 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 ryss
As 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 will
Furth bok the bowellis or entralis of the hyll,
And lowsyt stanys vpwarpys in the ayr
Rownd in a sop, with mony crak and rayr:
The stew of byrnand heyt law from the grond
Vpstrikis thar, that doith to hevyn rebound.
The rumour is doun thrung vndir this mont
Enchelades 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 hys irkit syde
All Sycil trymlys, 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 noyss 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.”
Of the Greik clepit Achemenydes
Rehersyng Ene the natur of Ciclopes.
“The secund day be this sprang fra the est,
Quhen Aurora the wak nycht dyd arest
And chayss 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 it 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 corss gan se
Maist laithly ful of ordur, and hys berd
Rekand doun the lenth neir of a erd,
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 far
Troiane habitis, and of our armys wes war,
At the first sicht he styntit and stude aw,
And fra hys payss begouth abak to draw,
Bot sone eftyr cummys rynnyng in a rayss
Down to the schoir, wepyng and askand grace:
‘O he 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 ou, catyve wycht,
And leid me in quhat land at euer e pless:
That may suffyss, thar war my hartis eyss.
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 trespas
Sa 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 it sum comfort
That 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 Anchiss na ma wordis wald byde,
Bot furthwith gaue that ong man his rycht hand,
And assurys hys spreit with that presand;
He at the last this dreid has done away,
And on this wyss begouth to carp and say:
‘Of the realm Itachia I am, but less,
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 it the same forton remanyt to wss!
My falloschip onwytting foret 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 meyss.
Bustuus hie Poliphemus set a deyss
Thar remanys, that may the starnys schaik.
e 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 my self 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 oustir 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 his
Myghtyn foret, into sa gret a plyght.
For sammyn as that horribyll fendlich wight
Had eyt his fyll, and drunk wyne he hym gave,
Sowpit in sleip, his nek furth of the cave
He straucht, fordronkyn, lyggyng in his dreym
Bokkis furth and yskis of owstyr mony streym,
Raw lumpys of flesch and blude blandyt with wyne.
We the gret goddys besocht and kavillys syne
Kastis 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 thra
wyn 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 soyn
Blithly the gostis of our feris ded.
Bot he, onhappy men, fle from this sted,
Fle, fle this cost, and smyte the cabill in twane!
For quhou grysly and how gret I ou sayn
Lurkis Polyphemus, ymmand his beystis rouch,
And al thar pappis mylkis throuch and throuch,
Ane hundreth otheris, als huge of quantite,
Endlang this ilk costis syde of the se,
Gret Ciclopes inhabitis heir and thar,
And walkis in thir hie montanys our alquhar.
The moyn hess now fyllyt hir hornys thryss
With new lyght sen I haue on this wyss
My lyfe in woddis led, but syght of men,
In desert hyrnys and seyr wild beistis den,
And far out from my cavern dyd aspy
The grym Ciclopes, and oft thar grysly cry
And 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 last
This navy of owris drawing hyddir fast,
Quhamto I me betaucht and gan avow,
Quhat flote at euer it was — for wayt e quhou
It is enuch that I eschapyt haue
one cruel pepill, I set not of the lave;
For, rather e or I fal in syk wraik,
Quhat deith e pless, the lyfe fra me gar taik.’”
Of Poliphemus, and mony strange cost,
And how Ene hys fader in Sycill lost.
“Skarss this wes sayd, quhen sone we gat a sycht
Apon ane hyll stalkand this hydduus wight,
Amang hys beystis, the hyrd Poliphemus,
Down to the costis bekend draw towartis wss,
A monstre horribyll, onmesurabill and myschaip,
Wanting hys syght, and gan to stab and graip
With hys burdon, that wes a gret fyr tre,
Fermand his steppis, becaus he mycht not se,
The wollyt scheip him followyng at the bak,
Quharin his plesour and delyte gan he tak.
About hys halss a quhissil hung had he,
Wes al his solace for tynsell of hyss e;
And, with his staf fra he the deip flude
Twichit, and cummyn at the seysyde stude,
Of hys e dolp the flowand blude and attir
He wysch away al with the salt wattir,
Grassilland his teith, and rummysand full hie.
He wadis furth throu myddis of the see,
And it the watir wet not hys lang syde.
We, far from thens affrayt, durst not abyde,
Bot fled onon, and within burd hess brocht
That faithful Greik quhilk ws of succurss socht,
