by Virgil
Gyf spreit of lyve left in hir body be.”
This sayand, the hie byng ascendis onane,
And gan enbrayss half ded hir systir germane,
Culeand in hir bosum, and murnand ay,
And with hir wympil wipyt the blude away.
And scho agane, Dydo, the dedly queyn,
Pressyt fortil vplift hir hevy eyn,
Bot tharof falys; for the grysly wound
Deip in hir breist gapis wyde and onsound.
Thryss scho hir self raxit vp to ryss;
Thryss on hir elbok lenys; and als feill syss
Scho fallys bakwart in the bed agane.
With eyn rollyng, and twynkland vp ful fane,
Assays scho to spy the hevynnys lyght,
Syne murmouris, quhen scho tharof gat a sycht.
Almychty Iuno havand reuth, by this,
Of hir lang sorow and tarysum ded, I wyss,
Hir mayd Irys from the hevyn hess send
The throwand sawle to lowyss, and mak ane end
Of al the iuncturis and lethis of hir corss;
Becauss that nothir of fatis throu the forss
Nor it by natural ded peryschit sche,
Bot fey in hasty furour emflambyt hie
Befor hir day had hir self spilt,
Or that Proserpyne the allow haris gilt
From hir fortop byreft, or dubbyt hir hed
Onto the Stygian hellis flude of ded.
Tharfor dewy Iris throu the hevyn
With hir safron weyngis flaw ful evin,
Drawand, quhar scho went, forgane the son cleir,
A thousand cullouris of diuerss hewys seir,
And abufe Dydoys hed arest kan:
“I am commandyt,” said scho, “and I man
Omdo this hayr, to Pluto consecrate,
And lowis thi sawle out of this mortale stait.”
Thys sayand, with rycht hand hess scho hynt
The hair, and cuttis in twa, or that scho stynt;
And tharwithall the natural heyt outquent,
And, with a puft of aynd, the lyfe furthwent.
Heyr endys the ferd buke of Eneados and begynnys the proloug of the fyft
BUKE V
[The Proloug of the Fyft Buke]
Gladys the grond the tendir florist greyn,
Byrdys the bewys and thir schawys scheyn,
The wery huntar to fynd hys happy pray,
The falconeyr rych ryver onto fleyn;
The clerk reiosys hys bukis our to seyn,
The luffar tobehald hys lady gay;
ong folk thame schurtis with gam, solace and play;
Quhat maist delytyth or lykis euery wight,
Tharto steris thar curage day and nycht.
Knychtis delytis to assay sterand stedys,
Wantoun gallandis to trayl in sumptuus wedis;
Ladeys desyris to behald and be seyn;
Quha wald be thrifty courtyouris says few credis;
Sum plesance takis in romans that he redis,
And sum hess lust to that wes nevir seyn;
Quhou mony hedis als feil consatis beyn.
Twa appetitis oneth accordis with othir:
This lykis the, perchance, and not thi brothir.
Plesance and ioy richt hailsum and perfyte is,
So that the wyss tharof in proverb wrytis,
“A blith spreit makis greyn and floryst age.”
Myne author eyk in Bucolykis endytis,
“The ong enfant fyrst with lauchtir delytis
To knaw hys moder, quhen he is litil page;
Quha lauchis not,” quod he, “in thar barnage,
Genyus the god delytyth not thar tabill,
Nor Iuno thame to kepe in bed is habill.”
The hie wysdome and maist profund engyne
Of myne author Virgile, poete dyvyne,
To comprehend, makis me almaist forvay,
So crafty wrocht hys wark is, lyne by lyne.
Tharon aucht na man irk, compleyn nor quhryne.
For quhy? He altyrris hys style sa mony way,
Now dreid, now stryfe, now lufe, now wa, now play,
Langeir in murnyng, now in melody,
To satyfy ilk wightis fantasy;
Lyke as he had of euery thyng a feill,
And the willys of euery wight dyd feill.
And tharto eyk so wysly writis he
Twiching the proffyte of the common weill,
Hys sawys beyn full of sentencis, euery deill,
Of morale doctryne, that men suld vycis fle.
Bot gyf he be nocht ioyus now lat se,
For quha so lyst seyr glaidsum gemmys leyr,
Ful mony myrry abaytmentis followis heir.
Now harkis sportis, myrthis and myrry plays,
Ful gudly pastans on mony syndry ways,
Endyte by Virgil, and heir by me translate,
Quhilk William Caxton knew nevir al hys days,
For, as I sayd tofor, that man forvays;
Hys febil proyss beyn mank and mutulate,
Bot my propyne com from the press fute hait,
Onforlatit, not iawyn fra tun to tun,
In fresch sapour new from the berry run.
Bachus of glaidness, and funeral Proserpyne,
And goddes of triumphe, clepyt Victorie,
Sal I ou call as our name war dyvyne?
Na, na, it suffysyt of ou ful smal memorie;
I byd nothir of our turmentis nor our glorie;
Bot he quhilk may ws glaid perpetualy,
To bryng ws tyll hys blyss on hym I cry.
Sen erdly plesour endis oft with sorow, we se,
As in this buke nane exemplys e want,
Lord, our prottectour to all trastis in the,
Bot quham na thing is worthy nor pyssant,
To ws thy grace and als gret mercy grant,
So forto wend by temporal blythness
That our eternale ioy be nocht the less!
Heyr endys the proheym And begynnys the fifte buke
Ene fra Cartage salys, and quhou belyve
He with the tempest was in Sycill dryve.
In the meyn quhile tho gan Eneas hald
Sovirly hys courss throu the gray fludis cald,
Hys navy with north wynd scherand the seys.
Towart Cartage he gan behald, and seys
Be than the wallys lemand brycht and schyre
Of the onhappy Dydoys funeral fyre.
Quha had this gret fyre maid, and to quhat end,
Thai marvellyt, for the causys war onkend,
Bot by the sorofull takynnyng, not the less,
The Troianys in thar breistis tuke a gess
Quharfor it was, for weil wyst Eneas
In violait lufe quhat strenth of dolour was,
And knew alsso quhat thyngis mycht be controvyt
By women in fury rage that strangly luffyt.
Bot fra the schippys held the deyp see,
That now na mair sycht of the land thai se,
Salve hevyn abuse, and fludis all about,
A watry clowd, blak and dyrk but dout,
Gan our thar hedis tho appeir ful rycht,
And down a tempest sent als dyrk as nycht;
The streym wolx vgsum of the dym sky.
Palynurus, the maistir, gave a cry
From the eft castell heich, thar as he stude:
“Quharfor, allace! samony clowdis onrude,”
Quod he, “bylappyt hess the hevynnys, lo?
Fader Neptune, quhat etlys thou to do?”
This beyng said, commandis he euery feir
Do red thar takillis, and stand hard by thar geir,
And wightly als thar arys vp to hail;
Hym self infangis the le schete of the saill,
And eftir said: “Maist curageus Ene,
Althocht our helpar, gret Iove, wald hecht it me,
I traist not with this weddir to wyn Itale.
The wynd is contrar, brayand in our bak saill,
Hard in our berd vpblawand wondir sayr,
And al with bubbys ombesett is the ayr;
Nor we may nocht stryve nor inforss sa fast
Agane the storm, bot stowtar is the blast.
And sen that forton masteris ws, tharfor
Lat ws follow tharon, and ryn befor,
Quhiddyr that the wyndis callys ws set saill.
Not far hens, as that I beleif, sans faill,
The frendfull, brothirly costis of Erycyss
And sovir portis of Sycill beyn, I wyss,
Gif I remembir the methys of starnys weill.”
Tho quod reuthful Eneas, “So haue I seyll,
I saw langsyne the wyndis ettyll that way,
And the invayn agane thame stryve perfay.
Tyte turn our salys and set thyddyr our went;
Thar is na land mair lykand to myne entent,
Nor quhar me lyst sa weil, and profitabill
Our wery folkis to restyng and estabill,
Than in that cuntre quharin doith remane,
Ful deir to me, Acestes of blude Troiane,
And in his boundis, derrest outour the lave,
My faderis banys enbrasys, layd in grave.”
This beand sayd, towart the port thai stevyn,
The followand wynd blew strek thar saill furth evyn.
Fast our the wallys slydis the navy,
And in schort quhile arryvit ar blythly
At the strandis and costis weil bekend.
Bot, on the hie top of a hyll ascend,
Acestes gan behald, and had gret wondir,
And to the cost, als ferss as ony thundyr,
To meit hys frendis schippys dyd he speid,
A beyr skyn of Affryke abone hys weyd,
Ful grym of luke, with dartis keyn and rude
(Hys moder Troiane of Crinosus the flude
Consavit hym and bayr, as it is said).
Not forettyng hys ald kyn, blyth and glaid
Of thar return was he, and myrrely
Thame welcumand ressauyt by and by,
Gave thame of rural metis with glaid semlance,
And cherysyt thame with frendly purvyance.
Eneas in Sycill, but langar tary,
Maid for his fader the seruyce anniuersary.
The nixt morow, als sone as the brycht day,
The son vprysand, chasyt the starnys away,
Eneas gan fra euery cost about
Hys folkis all assembill in a rowt,
Syne spak thir wordis on a knollys hycht:
“O e my Troiane pepill, stowt and wyght,
Discend from worthy Dardanus the kyng,
And of the hie goddis ryall ofspryng,
The son hess run hys hail courss circular,
Hys monethis twelf, and the tyme anniuersar,
Sen that the reliqueis and bonys infeir
Of my dyvyne fader we erdyt heir,
And eyk the dolorus altaris consecrate.
Less than I be dissavyt, weil I wait
Thys is the day that euermor sall I
Meyn and regrait, and altyme reverently
In wirschip keip and with gret honour hald,
For so it plesith ou, goddis, and so e wald.
a, thocht I war wilsum, and banyst this da
Amang sey sandis of Getulya,
Or yt with storm ourset in the Greik see,
Or in the cite of Myce hapnyt tobe,
Netheless suld I seruyce anniuersar
And exequeys, with solemnyt pomp and fair,
Dewly perform, and with myne awyn handis
Adorn the altaris with thar iust offerandis.
Now, as I weyn, or we persavyt the chance,
Not but the myghtis of goddis and purvyance,
Onto the assis and the bonys deir
Of my sayd fader bene we caryit heir,
Entrit in frendly portis and arryve.
Tharfor haue done, and lat ws all belyve
Perform this honour blithly, as efferis;
Ask prosper wyndis, and beseyk euery eris
That my fader wald eftir this ressaue
This sacrifyce, quhilk I begunnyn haue,
Within our cite that we mon beild, God wait,
In tha templys onto hym dedicate.
Acestes, cummyn of Troy, for hys wirschip,
Two oxin sal ou geif for euery schyp.
Our Penates and Troiane goddis, for thy,
Bryng furth hyddir onto the maniory.
Do fech me eyk tha goddis to this cost,
Quhilk wirschippit ar by Acestes, our host.
And forthirmar, gyf that the nynt day
Ryss fair and cleyr, with hys brycht morow gay,
And gan hys bemys our the erth spreid,
First sal I ordand for my Troianys, in deyd,
Quha hess the swyftast schippis of our navy,
With al thar forss to stryfe for the mastry;
And eik, quha best on fute kan ryn, lat se,
To preif hys picht, or wersyll, and bair the gre,
Or dartis kast, and best schute arrowis lycht;
Or lyke a douchty campioun into fyght
With bustuus baston darryn stryve, or mayss —
Lat euery man address hym to this place
And mak hym reddy agane the sammyn day
Fortil opteyn and bayr the pryce away.
Annerd heirto, ilk man, rycht favorabilly,
And hald our payce, but owthir noys or cry,
And do our hedis with fresch bewys array.”
And sayand this, he gan hys templis twa
Covir with myrthus, that is his moderis tre.
The sam wyss dyd gret Helymus, perde,
Richt so hym self Kyng Acestes the ald,
Richt so the child Ascanyus so bald,
Quham followys al the laif in lyke maner.
The prynce Ene, from the counsale in feyr,
With mony thousandis walkand hym about,
Went to the tumbe amyd the thykkast rout,
Quhar fyrst, eftir thar payane ryte and gyss,
Twa flaconys ful of wyne in sacryfyss
Apon the erd he et, and othir twane
Ful of new mylkyt mylk, and syne agane
Twa ful of hayt blude was of the offerandis,
And purpour flowris strowis with hys handis,
Syne said: “Hail, haly fader! Hail agane,
e assys cald, ressauyt al invane,
Vmquhile contenyt my faderis sawle and gost.
Allace! was it not leful, thou onlost,
The boundis of Itale, with the, and fatale landis,
Forto haue socht, and eik onto the strandis
Of Tybir in Ausonya, quhar evir it be,
Arryvit sound, in falloschip with the?”
Scars said he thus, quhen of the holl graf law
A gret eddir slydand gan furth thraw,
In sevyn lowpis lynkyt, and tymys sevyn
Circulyt the tumbe about sweitly and evyn,
And glydand syne amang the altaris onon;
Of freklit sprutlis al hir bak schone,
As goldyn maileis hir skalys glytrand brycht,
Lyke to the rayn bow amang clowdis lycht,
Drawand always, forgane the son cleir,
A thousand cullouris of diuerss hewis seir.
Eneas of the syght abasyt sum deill,
Bot scho at last, with lang fard, fair and weill,
Crepis amang the veschell and cowpis all,
The drynk and eyk the offerandis gret and small
Snokis and lykkyt, syne full the altaris left
And but mair harm in the graf enterit eft.
Quharfor Ene begouth agane renew
Hys faderys hie sawle queith, for he not knew
Quhiddir this was Genyus, the god of that sted,
Or than the seruand of hys fader ded.
Fyve twyntyrris brytnyt he, as was the gyss,
And alsmony swyne, and tydy quyiss
With hydys blak, and into cowpys s
yne
In gret plente et furth the hallowyt wyne,
Rowpand the sawle of gret Anchyses gone,
And hys gost fred from the flude Acheron.
Hys feris eik, euery man in thar degre,
Of syk thyng as thai mycht get plente,
Blithly thar offerandis addressis to inbryng,
Chargis the altaris, and brytnys styrkis yng.
Sum othir per ordour caldronys gan vpset,
And, skatyrt endlang the greyn, the colis het
Vndir the spetis swakkis, to royst in threyt
The raw spaldis ordanyt for the mulde meyt.
Of the gemmys proclamyng, and the play,
Quhais fyrst dereyn four schippys dyd assay.
Cummyn be thys was the desyryt day;
The nynte morow vpspryngis fresch and gay,
And Pheyton gan hys faderis chayr furth dryve.
The fame of this triumphe gan spreid belyve,
That, for wirschip of Acestes, thar kyng,
All folkis enveron dyd to the costis thryng,
Glaidly occupyand al the strandis about,
Sum to behald Eneas cowrt and rowt,
And sum, alsso, to stryfe for the mastry.
At the begynnyng, the wageouris by and by,
And the rewardis, in myddys of the feild
Befor thar eyn war set, at all beheld:
The gilt trestis, and the greyn tre,
The lawrer crownys, for the pryce and gre,
With palmys scheyn in takyn of victory,
Fair armouris of triumphe and myche glory,
The robbys fyne of purpour richly dycht,
Seir talentis eik of gold and siluer brycht.
Tharwith, the trumpet blew, as beyn the gyss,
Apon ane hyght, declaris and notyfyiss
The gemmys tobe excersyt for that day.
With arys squair, the bargan gan assay
Four galeys fyrst, chosyn of al the flote.
The swyft Pystris witht spedy routht, fute hoyt,
Furth steris the stern Mynestheus onan,
Quhilk eftir bycam a lord Italian,
Of quhays ofspring and genealogy
The pepill ar discend, clepyt Memny.
The bustuus barge, yclepit Chimera,
Gyas, with fellon fard, furthbrocht alssua,
Sa huge of byrth a cite semyt sche,
Quham a gret nowmyr of ong Troiane mene,
In thrynfald ordour, causis furth toglyde;
The arys rays thre rawis on athir syde.
The thryd schip, yclepyt Centaurus,
Furth haldis, with hir patron Sergestus,
Quham fra the famyle come hait Sergia.
The sovir sey schip tho, namyt Scylla,
Cloanthus gydis, efter quham, yt syne,
In Roym the pepill beyn callyt Cluenthyne.
Weil far from thens standis a roch in the see,
Forgane the fomy schor and costis hie,
