Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  Hys clethyng and hys sword at he had left,

  Ramembring weill the thyng that followyt eft.

  Feill altaris stude about the fyre funerale,

  And the religyus nun, with hair down skaill,

  Thre hundreth goddis with hir mouth rowpyt sche —

  Herebus, the grysly of the deyp hellys see,

  Chaos, confoundar of elymentis, alssua,

  And the thrynfald goddes Proserpina,

  The thre figuris of the virgyn Dyan.

  And evir the watir strynklis scho onan,

  Contyrfait tobe of Avernus the well,

  Quhilk lowch is situate at the mouth of hell.

  Spryngand herbys eftir the courss of the moyn

  War socht, and with brasyn hukis cuttit soyn,

  To get thar mylky sap and vennom blak.

  Thai seik alsso, and owt gan rent and tak

  The lump betwix the new born folys eyn,

  And fra the moder byreft the lufe sa greyn,

  The queyn hir self fast by the altar standis,

  Haldand the meldyr in hir devote handis,

  Hir ta fute bayr, and the bandis of threyd

  Nocht festynnyt, bot hung by hyr lowyss weyd;

  And, remembring scho was in poynt to de,

  The goddis all onto wytnes drew sche,

  The starnys and planetis, gydaris of fatis,

  And gif thar ony deite be, that watis

  Or persavys luffaris inequale of behest,

  To have in memor hir iust causs and request.

  Quhat sorow dreys Queyn Dydo all the nycht,

  And how Mercur bad Ene tak the flycht.

  The nycht followys, and euery wery wight

  Throu owt the erth hath caucht, onon rycht,

  The sownd plesand sleip thame lykit best.

  Woddis and rageand seys war at rest;

  As the starnys thar myd courss rollys doun,

  All feildis still, but othir noyss or sown,

  All beistis and byrdis of diuerss cullouris seir,

  And quhatsumeuer in the braid lowys weir,

  Or, amang buskis harsk, leyndis vndir the spray,

  Throu nychtis sylence slepit quhar thai lay,

  Mesyng thar bissy thocht and curis smart,

  All irksum laubour foret and owt of hart.

  Bot the onrestles fey spreit dyd not so

  Of this onhappy Phenyssane Dydo,

  For neuer mair may scho sleip a wynk,

  Nor nychtis rest in eyn or breist lat synk.

  The hevy thochtis multipleis euer on ane;

  Strang luf begynnys to rage and ryss agane

  And fellon stormys of ire gan hir to schaik.

  Thus fynaly scho owt bradis, allaik!

  Rollyng alane seir thyngis in hir thocht:

  “Ha! quhat do I?” quod scho, “all is for nocht.

  Sall I thus mokkit, and to hething dryve,

  My fyrst luffaris agane assay belyve?

  Or sal I lawly sum lord Numydane

  Pray and beseik of mariage now agane,

  Quhom I sa oft lychtlyit to spowss or this?

  Na, wyll I not! Quhat, sal I than, I wyss,

  Follow the Troiane navy in strange landis,

  And reddely obey al thar commandis?

  I hope it sal profyte, na litill thyng,

  My gret help done thame and suppowellyng;

  For amang kynd folkis this is na dreid,

  Weil is remembrit the ald thankful deid.

  Bot thocht in cace to do this war my will,

  Quha wald me suffir my purposs to fulfyll,

  Or in thar prowd schippis me ressaue?

  Thus drevyn to hethyng, and al thi grace bywave,

  Tynt woman, allace! baris thou not yt in mynd

  The maynsweryng of fals Laomedonis kynd?

  And maratour, quhat ettill I for todo?

  A queyn alane to steil away thus, lo!

  Accumpanyit bot with mery maryneris?

  Or than with all my Tyrianys, as efferis,

  And all my power assemblit me about,

  On schipburd entyr with al that huge rowt

  Quhilk furth of Sydon scarsly draw I mycht,

  Sal I thame cach agane our seys lycht?

  Byd thame mak saill onon, and a new rayss?

  Na, rather de, as thou deservyt hass,

  And with a swerd mak of this duyl ane end.

  O systir germane, thou me fyrst taucht and kend,

  Allace the quhile! and offerit me to my fo;

  Thou with thir harmys ourchargit me alsso,

  Quhen I fell fyrst into this rage,” quod sche,

  “Bot so to do my teris constrenyt the.

  Was it not lefull, allace! but cumpany,

  To me but cryme in chawmyr alane to ly,

  Or led my lyfe lyke to thir beistis wild,

  And not beyn thus with thocht nor harmys fild?

  Allace! onkepit is the trew cunnand

  Hecht to Sycheus assys, my first husband.”

  Syk gret complayntis from hir breist bryst kan.

  Bot Eneas, sovir to depart or than,

  And al hys neidful thyngis grathit, by and by,

  Heich in hys eft schyp sownd slepand kan ly;

  Quhamto in visioun the sam god dyd appeir,

  In syklyke figur as that he dyd eyr,

  Onto Mercuryus lyke, in al fasson,

  Baith cullour of vissage and of vocis sown,

  In form of a ongker with membris fair,

  Plesand of cheir, and allow glitterand hair.

  Hym thocht agane he monyst on this wyss:

  “Son of the goddes, quhou is this heir thou lyis?

  Quhat, may thou vndir sa gret danger sleip,

  And al forvayit takis nothir cuyr nor keyp

  For tobehald quhat perrellys about the standis

  Nor harknys the fair wynd blawys of landis?

  Scho quham thou knawys, within hir breist ful hait

  Sorowfull vengeans compasis and dissait,

  And certanly determyt forto de,

  In diuerss stowris of ire brandysys sche.

  Quhy wilt thou not fle spedely be nycht,

  Quhen forto haist thou hess laser and mycht?

  Thou salt, onon, behald the seys large

  All ombeset with toppyt schyp and barge.

  The feirful brandis and blesys of hait fyre,

  Reddy to byrn thi schippys, lemand schyre,

  And al the cost belyve of flambys scald,

  Gyf, quhil to morow, tary in this land thou wald.

  Haue done, speid hand, and mak na mair delay,

  Variabill and changeand thyngis beyn wemen ay.”

  And sayand this, into the dyrk nyght

  He gan hym hyde, and vanyst out of sycht.

  Eneas, of this hasty visioun affrayit,

  Gan start on fut, and fast his feris assayit:

  “Awalk onon, get vp, my men, inhy,

  Tyte to our wardis, span aris bissely,

  Schaik down the salys sone and lat ws wend.

  From the hie hevyn the god agane is send,

  Lo! spurrand ws to haist and fle away,

  And byddis smyte the twyne cabyll in tway.

  O blissyt wyght! quhat god at evir thou be,

  We sal obey thi charge and follow the,

  And thy command fulfyll agane blithly,

  Besekyng the assist to ws frendly

  Help and support, with prospir influens

  The hevyn and starris dress our vayage hens.”

  And with that word, hys scherand sword als tyte

  Hynt owt of scheith, the cabil in twa gan smyte.

  The sam maner of haist caucht al the lave;

  Thai hurl away, ankyrris vphynt and rave,

  Left the costis desert on athir sydis.

  The stabil sey vndir the schippis slydis;

  The stour of fame vpwelt thai egyrly,

  And swepis our the haw fludis inhy.

  C marginal note lochis.

  Quho
u Queyn Dydo beheld Ene depart,

  And quhat scho said with harmys at hir hart.

  Be this Aurora, leifand the purpour bed

  Of hir lord Titan, heth the erd ourspred

  With new days licht, and quhen the queyn

  The first grekyng of the day hes seyn

  And fra hir hie wyndoys gan espy,

  With bent sail furth caryand, the navy,

  The costis and the schor al desolate

  Behaldis eik but owthir schip or bate,

  Hir fayr quhite breist, thar as scho dyd stand,

  Feil tymys smate scho with hir awyn hand,

  And ryvand hir bricht haris petuusly,

  “Iupiter,” quod scho, “sal he depart, ha, fy!

  And leful tyll a vavengeour stranger

  Me and my realm betrump on this maner?

  Sal not my mene to harnes ryn in hy

  Our al the town, and follow bissely?

  Speid, tak on schippys! on burd fast to the raid!

  Haist sone, and kast on thame fyre blesis braid!

  Schute dartis thik, and qwel thame with our glavys . . .

  Quhat said I or quhar am I? Now thou ravys;

  Quhat wodness, fey Dydo, movis thi mynd?

  Now art thou hyt with frawart werdis onkynd?

  Sa til haue done than had bene mair ganand

  Quhen thou hym gave the ceptour of thi land.

  Ha! now behald hys gret prowes,” quod sche,

  “Hys reuthful piete and faith! Is not on he

  Quham, as thai say, the goddis of hys land

  In hys navy careis our sey and sand?

  Is not on he quhom on his schulderis, thai say,

  For reuth his agit fader bair away?

  Mycht I not caucht and rent in pecis his corss,

  Syne swak the gobbettis in the sey by forss

  Of hym and all hys fallowys? Weill I mocht!

  And eik one sam Ascanyus mycht I nocht

  Haue trynschit with a sword, and maid a meyss

  To his fader tharof to eyt at deyss?

  Forsuyth, in cace the aventur of bataill

  Had beyn doutsum, wald God it war assaill!

  Quham sall I dreid, now reddy forto de?

  Wald God I mycht, in on navy I se,

  The hait fyre brandis set, and euery boyr

  Fyll all with flambys red, and forthirmor

  Baith fader and son, with hail generacioun,

  That I had brynt, distroyit and bryttnyt doun,

  And thame abuf syne ded my self had laid!

  O thou brycht son, that, with thi bemys glayd,

  All erdly laubour clengis, circuland about;

  And thou Iuno, mediatrix, but dout,

  Of al thir hevy thochtis, and weill thame knawis;

  And thou Proserpyne, quhilk, by our gentile lawys,

  Art rowpit hie and ellyt lowd by nyght,

  In forkyt ways, with mony mudy wight;

  And e infernale fureys, that wrekis al wrang;

  And e goddis eik, quham now amang

  Dido standis reddy tocum in poynt to de;

  Ressaue thir wordis quhilkis I sal say,” quod sche,

  “Withdraw fra hyme our gret mychtis, quharby

  Schrewis aucht be punyst for thar cryme, and not I;

  And thir our prayeris accept, we ou beseik.

  Gyf it be necessar and determyt eik

  on wikkit hed in portis of Itale

  To entir and cum or to thai boundis saill,

  And gyf the fatis and Iove wil it be so

  And hess decreit he fynaly thyddir go,

  it, at the lest, thar mot he be assail,

  With hardy pepill ay trublyt in bataill,

  By forss of armys expellyt hys boundis eik,

  Far from Ascanyus help, constrenyt beseik

  Ayd and supple, and als that he behald

  Feil cayrfull corsys of hys folk ded and cald,

  And quhen alsso hym self submyt hes he

  Vndir payce and lawis of iniquite,

  That he bruke nowthir realm, nor gude lyfe led,

  Bot fal fey or his day, and sone be ded,

  And ly onerdyt in myddis of the sandis.

  Thys I beseik ou hevand vp my handis;

  Thys is my lattir word at I conclude,

  Furthettand it togiddir with my blude.

  And forthirmor, O e my Tyrianys,

  Quhilk now in Affrik at Cartage remanys,

  on clan, with thar successioun and kynrayd,

  Persew with haitrent perpetual, and invaid;

  Onto my assys grant this a gift,” quod sche.

  “Nevir luf nor payce betwix thir pepill be.

  Of our levingis sum revengar mot spryng,

  With fyre and sword to persew and doun thryng

  The lauboreris discend from Dardanus.

  Now fra thyne furth, all that succedis til ws,

  Quhen euer thai may fynd tyme, with strenth and mycht

  Batail to batail mot thai debait in fyght;

  Thir costis mot be to tharis contrar ay,

  And to thar stremys our seys frawart, I pray,

  Thar ofspring eik amang thame self mot debate.”

  Thus said scho, and with that word, God wate,

  Hir faynt spreit in al partis writhis sche,

  Sekand the way, alssone as it mycht be,

  Forto bereif hir self the irksum lyve,

  Tho callys scho to hyr Barcen belyve,

  Nuryss vmquhile to Sychey hir husband,

  For hir awyn nuryss in hir native land

  Was beryit in to assis broun or than.

  “Deir nurys,” quod scho, “fech my sister An;

  Byd hir in haist with watir of a flude

  Hir body strynkil; the bestis, and the blude,

  And clengyng graith scho knawis, with hir bring.

  Se on this wyss scho cum, foret na thyng;

  And thou thy self thine halffettis als array

  With haly garland. My will is to assay

  And now perform the sacryfyce in hy

  That onto Pluto dewly begun haue I,

  To mak end of my dolorus thochtis all,

  And byrn on Troiane statw in flamb funeral.”

  Thus said Dido, and the tother, with that,

  Hychit on furth with slaw payss lyke a trat.

  Heir followys of the famus Queyn Dydo

  The fatale dynt of deth and mortale wo.

  Bot now the hasty, egyr and wild Dydo,

  Into hyr cruell purposs enragyt so,

  The bludy eyn rollyng in hir hed,

  Wan and ful paill for feir of the neir ded,

  With chekis freklyt, and al of tychirris bysprent,

  Quakyng throu dreid, ruschit furth, or scho wald stent,

  Onto the innar wardis of hyr place,

  As wod woman clam on the byng, allace!

  And furth scho drew the Troiane swerd, fute hait,

  A wapyn was neuer wrocht for syk a nate.

  And sone as sche beheld Eneas clething,

  And eik the bed bekend, a quhile wepyng,

  Stude musyng in hir mynd, and syne, but baid,

  Fel in the bed, and thir last wordis said:

  “O sweit habyte, and lykand bed,” quod sche,

  “So lang as God lyst suffir and destane,

  Ressaue my blude, and this sawle that on flocht is,

  And me delyvir from thir hevy thochtis.

  Thus lang I levyt haue, and now is spent

  The term of lyfe that forton heth me lent;

  For now my gret gost vndir erth mon go.

  A richt fair cite haue I beild alsso,

  Myne awyn wark and wallys behald haue I,

  My spowss wrokyn of my brothir ennemy,

  Fra hym byreft hys tressour, and quyt hym weill.

  Happy, allace! our happy, and ful of seyll,

  Had I beyn, only gyf that neuer nane

  At our cost had arryvit schip Troiane.”

  And sayand this, hir mouth fast thristis scher />
  Doun in the bed: “Onwrokyn sal we de?

  De ws behufis,” scho said, “and quhou beheld!”

  And gan the scharp sword to hir breist vphald;

  “a, thus, thus lykis ws starve and to depart!”

  And with that word, rave hir self to the hart.

  “Now lat on cruel Troiane swelly and se

  This our fyre funerale from the deip see,

  And of our deth turss with hym fra Cartage

  Thys takyn of myscheif in hys vayage,”

  Quod scho; and tharwith gan hir seruandis behald

  Hir fallyn and stekit on the irne cald,

  The blude outbullyrand on the nakyt swerd,

  Hir handis furthsprent. The clamour than and rerd

  Went to the toppys of the large hallys;

  The noyss ran wild out our the cite wallis,

  Smate all the town with lamentabil murnyng.

  Of greting, gowlyng and wyfly womentyng

  The ruffis dyd resound, bray and rayr,

  Quhil huge bewalyng al fordynnyt the air —

  Nane other wyss than thocht takyn and doun bet

  War al Cartage, and with ennemyss ourset,

  Or than thar natyve cite the town of Tyre,

  And furyus flambe, kendillit and byrnand schyre,

  Spredyng fra thak to thak, baith but and ben,

  Als weil our templis as howsis of othir men.

  Hir systir An, spreitles almaist for dreid,

  Herand sa feirful confluens thyddir speid,

  With nalys ryvand reuthfully hir face,

  And smytand with hir nevis hir breist, allace!

  Fast ruschis throu the myddis of the rowt,

  And on the throwand, with mony sprauch and schout,

  Callys by name: “Systir germane,” quod scho,

  “Och! was this it thou feneit the to do?

  Hess thou attempyt me with syk dissait?

  This byng of treys, thir altaris and fyris hait,

  Is this the thyng thai haue onto me dycht?

  Quhat sall I first compleyn, now dissolate wight?

  O deir systir, quhen thou was reddy to de,

  Ha! quhy hess thou sa far dyspysyt me

  As to reffuss thi systir with the to wend?

  Thou suld haue callyt me to the sammyn end,

  That the ilk sorow, the sammyn swerd, bath tway,

  And the self hour, mycht haue tane hyne away.

  Thys funeral fyre with thir handis biggyt I,

  And with my voce dyd on our goddis heir cry,

  To that effect as, cruel, tobe absent,

  Thou beand thus sa duylfully heir schent!

  Sistir, allace! with my counsell haue I

  The, and my self, and pepill of Sydony,

  The heris all, and eik thi fayr cite,

  Distroyt and ondeyn for ay,” quod sche.

  “Fech hiddir sone the well watir lew warm,

  To wesch hir woundis, and hald hir in myne arm;

  Syne with my mowth at I may sowk, and se