Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  Nor ald infectioun come of the body layt:

  And thus, aluterly, it is neidfull thing

  The mony vycis lang tyme induryng,

  Contrackit in the corps, be done away,

  And purgit on seir wonderfull wyss to say.

  Tharfor thai suffir panys and torment

  For thar inveterat vycis ald bywent,

  By punytioun satisfactioun to mak.

  Sum stentit in wysnand wyndis wak,

  Of sum the cryme committit clengit be

  Vndre the watir or deip hydduus sey,

  And in the fyre the gilt of other sum

  Is purefyit and clengit all and sum.

  Ilkane of ws hys ganand purgatory

  Mon suffir, and fra thyne ar send in hy

  Onto the large feildis of Elysee:

  Thar bene of ws nane, bot a few mene,

  Quhilkis cumis to inhabyt and remanys,

  Bot ony purging, in thyr ioyful planys,

  And heir mon dwell quhil that the lang day,

  Be perfyt courss of tyme, heth done away

  The spot of fylth hardnyt in the spreit,

  For that it fand sum tyme the body sweit,

  And quhil it be so purefyit and fynd,

  Na thing remane bot a clene hevynly mynd,

  And subtel pure flambe celestiall.

  Thir other sawlis quhilk bene purgit all,

  Eftir thai haue, within thir planys heir

  By cirkill rollyt our a thousand eir,

  God callis thame onto this flude Lythe,

  With felloun fard, in numbyr as he se,

  To that effect, that thai myndless becum

  Baith of plesour and ald panys all and sum,

  Langing agane the warld abufe to se,

  And gan begyn desire, baith he and he,

  In bodeis it forto return agane.”

  Thus said Anchises, and tharwith baith twane,

  Hys son and eik the prophet Sibilla,

  Amyddys of that sort flokkit to the bra,

  And gret rowt with rangald, in ledis he,

  And gan ascend ontill a mote on hie,

  Quharfra, per ordour, forganyst thame on raw,

  Thai mycht thame rekkin all, and cleirly knaw

  Thar vissagis and contenance also,

  As that thai went and rowmyt to and fro.

  Anchises schawis Eneas to the end

  Alhail the lynage sal fra hym discend.

  “Now harkis, me behuffis schortlie say,”

  Quod Anchises, “or thou depart away,

  And rekkyn our Troian ofspring all and sum,

  Quhat glor and honour beis of ws tocum,

  And quhat successioun or posterite

  Of Ital frendschip sal discend of the,

  And tha illustir sawlis salbe sent

  Heir, eftir this, in name of our kynrent;

  Thy fatis and thy destany also

  I sal the teche per ordour, or thou go.

  Seys thou on lusty springald or onkeir

  That lenys hym apon his hedles sper?

  The formast place by chance doith occupy

  Tyl pass to life in our geneology,

  And first sal ryss in the ovir warld agane,

  Commixit of the blude Italiane,

  Siluius, to surname clepit Albanus,

  Born efter thy decess, child posthumus;

  Quham, consauyt of thyne ancyent lynage,

  Thy secund spouss, Lavinia, wyss and sage,

  In woddys fostir sal, a vaileant kyng,

  And fader to al kingis of our ofspring;

  Quharby our kynrent and famyl alswa

  Sal ryng and lordschip hald in Lang Alba.

  on is Procas that standys nixt hym be,

  Of Troiane pepill the honour and glory;

  Syne Capys, lo, and Munytor, baith twane;

  And he that representis thy name agane,

  Siluyus Eneas, notabil cheveller,

  Renownyt baith of piete or in war,

  Gif evir he may his tyme optene and se

  To ryng into Lang Alba the cite.

  Behald quhat maner ong gallandis bene on,

  Quhou gret curage thar hart is set apon,

  Quhat gud semblant thai schaw of chevalre.

  Bot on, with coverit hedys by and by

  With ciuile crownys of the strang aik tre,

  Sall beld and found to thy honour,” quod he,

  “Nomentum cite, and Gabios the tovne,

  And Fidena, the cite of renoun;

  Sum in the hillys hie sal set vp syne

  The strenthis and the castellis Collatyne,

  Pometios and New Castell, baith twa,

  The cite Bolan, and the tovne Cora.

  Thir namys salbe gevin thame efter this,

  Quhar now but name the land remanand is.

  Lo, Romulus, by martial wirschip

  To hys grandschir ionyt in falloschip,

  Quham, of Assaracus blude, the nobill kyng,

  Hys moder Ilya discendit sal furth bring.

  Seys thou nocht quhou apon thar hedys on hyght

  Twa dowbil cristis standys schynand bryght?

  Thar fader Mars, behald, this sammyn hour

  Hass thame ymerkit with dyvyne honour;

  And lo, my child, be on manis prowes

  That gloryus cite Rome sal so incres,

  Tyll hyr empire be with the erth maid evin,

  And vertuus curage equal to the hevin;

  The quhilk cite all round togiddir sall

  Sevin gret strenthis closs within a wall,

  Happy and brudy of hir forcy ofspring —

  Lyke as, throu out citeis of Phrecis ryng,

  The moder of goddis, with hir towrit crovn,

  Berecynthia, careit from tovn to tovn,

  Within hir char yset, all ful of myrth

  Of the goddis becauss of hir rich birth,

  Hir hundreth childring and posterite

  Ful tendirly in armys enbracis sche,

  All haill the hevynly wightis to hyr behufe,

  And all that weildis the hie hevynnys abufe.

  Now turnys hyddir, my sweit son, albedene,

  The cirkillis and the sight of baith thy eyn —

  Behald thir pepill and thy cheif Romanys.

  Cesar Iulyus, lo, in onder planys,

  And all the famyl of hym Iulius,

  Quhilk eftir thys ar tocum, trastis ws,

  Vndre the gret hie hevynnys assiltre.

  on man, on man, my son, the sam is he

  Quham thou so oft has hard promist or this,

  Cesar August Octauyane, I wyss,

  Cum of the goddys geneology and kyn,

  Quhilk sall agane the goldin warld begyn,

  As vmquhile was, in tyme of Saturn ald,

  Throu Ital ryng baith be firth and fald;

  And hys empire sal delait and wynde

  Our Garamantas, and the forthar Inde;

  The landis lyis without the starnys blenk,

  Outwith the heris courss and sonnys renk,

  Quhar the vpberar of the hevyn, Atlas,

  On schuldir rollys the round speir in cumpas,

  Ful of thir lemand starnys mony one.

  Sall, at his hyddir cummyn, ror and grone.

  The realme of Caspys or of Assery,

  All Scithya, Meothys land fast by,

  Horribill answeris sall of goddis heir;

  All trublit in affray, trymlyng for feir,

  To quakyng sall sevyn mowthis of Nyle flude.

  Nevir, forsuyth, strang Hercules the gude

  Samekil space of erth or land oureid,

  All thocht the wynd swift hart he schot to ded,

  And stanchit Erymanthus forest roucht,

  The serpent Lerna with hys bow persit throuch;

  Nor Bachus, quhilk victor afor thir days

  With wyne burgions the hillis top arays,

  Dryvand the ferfull tygris fast away

  Down fra the hyght of the gret mont Nysay.

 
And yt we dowt onto the forthir end

  Hys gret vertu and dedys to extend!

  Than quha suld dreid stop ws to occupy

  Or till inhabyt land of Italy?”

  Anchises it furthrekkynnys his ofspring,

  As worthiast that euer in Rome sal ryng.

  “Bot quhat maner man be on,” quod Anchyss,

  “With olyve branch on sik gudly wyss

  Arrayit, and eik berys mony a syng

  Of sacrifyce and ritis of offeryng?

  I knaw hys canoss har and lyard berd

  Of the wysast Roman kyng into the erd,

  Numa Pompilius, quhilk sall in hys days

  Begyn and statut with lawys and haly lays

  The cheif cite Rome; and he sal pass

  From a pur land, and smal cite Curas,

  Send forto rewle and bruke a gret empire;

  Quhamto thar sal succeid a lordly syre,

  Tullus Hostilius, that first of hys land

  The peyss and quiet, quhilk solang dyd stand,

  He sal dissolue and brek, and dolf men steir,

  Quhilk lang hath bene disosyt fra the weir,

  To armys and triumphe of victory,

  And thame array in hostis by and by.

  Quham nixt followis Ancus Martyus,

  Of hys estait mar prowd and gloryus,

  And ourgretlie evin now, persaue and se,

  Vaynglor and favour of pepill desiris he.

  Pless the behald the Tarquynys kingis two,

  And the stowt curage of Brutus alsso,

  Quhilk can revenge the wrang in hys cuntre,

  His gret honour gif thou lest heir or se,

  And enseneis send fra Ethrurianys:

  This ilk Brutus sall first amang Romanys

  Ressaue the dignite and stait consular;

  With heding swerd bath felloun, scharp and gar,

  Befor hym born throu all Romys tovne,

  In takin of iustice executioun,

  Hys awin sonnys, movyng onkyndly wer,

  To punytioun and ded sal damp infeir,

  To kepe frensches and souerane liberte;

  And thus onsilly fader sall he be,

  Quhou sa evir the pepil hys fatel dedis

  In tyme tocum sal blason, quha thame redis;

  The feruent lufe of his kynd natyve land,

  And excedand desyre he bar on hand

  Of honour and hie glory to ressaue,

  Mot at evil rumour fra his lawd byvaue.

  Attour, behald, lo, athir Decyus,

  And standing fer of, twa that hait Drusus;

  Considir Torquatus ondir, doith him rax

  So brym and fellon with the heding ax;

  And Camyllus, the vaileand capitane,

  Bringand the Romane standartis hame agane.

  on twa sawlys, quhilk thou seis, sans faill,

  Schynand with elike armys peregale,

  Now at gud concord stad and vnite,

  Ay quhil thai stand in myrk and law degre:

  Allace, how gret batale and debait

  Salbe betwix thame, gif thai til estait

  May cum abufe, and to the lyght of lyfe!

  O, how gret slauchter, assembleis and huge strife

  Sal thai exerce and move into thar days!

  Cesar, the eldfader, by the strait ways

  With his gret rowtis our the Franch montanys

  Discendand dovn Lumbardy throu the planys,

  His mavch Pompey sal strech agane him went

  With rayt ostis of the orient.

  O my childring, cum nocht in vss to hant

  Sik fremmyt batalis, bot our curage dant;

  Exers he neuer owr vaileand forss,” quod he,

  “Amangis the entralis of our awin cuntre.

  And O thou Cesar, thou formast in the press,

  Cum of hevinly kyn, abstene and cess;

  Myne awin lynage, obeys my command,

  Do cast sik wapynnys fer furth of thy hand.

  And he that standys onder, Lucyus,

  Onto his surname clepit Munyus,

  Efter he venquist haue Corinthe tovne,

  And in batale the worthy Grekis bet dovn,

  His char, with mekil glor triumphale,

  Sal steir furth to the hie capitol wal.

  And he on other, Quintus Metellus,

  Ful gret honour sal conquess onto ws,

  For he sal bet dovn and distroy al clene

  Baith Arge and Agamenonys realm Mycene;

  And onder Curyus with his fallow syne,

  Pyrrus, cummyn of Kyng Eacus lyne

  And of Achillis armipotent ofspring,

  In batel sal ourcummyn and dovne thryng,

  And thare eldris of Troy wreke and revenge,

  And the tempill of Mynerve pollute clenge.

  Quha wold the, gret Cato, lefe onhyt?

  Or quha with silens Cossus pretermyt?

  Quha list foret the kynrent of Gracchus?

  Or athir of the Scypionys gloryus,

  Thai twa thunderis of batale in thar rage,

  Fynale rwyne of Affrik and Cartage?

  Quha wald, Fabricius, of the say na thyng,

  That art ful myghty bot of litil thing?

  Of the, Seranus, quha wald na thing schaw,

  Quhar thou thi ryggis telys forto saw,

  As thou was chosyn capitane of weir?

  Quhidder withdraw he, Fabyus, cum neir,

  Thole me na mar be irkyt ou tobehald:

  Thow art that ilk mast souerane Fabius bald,

  Quhilk only, throu thy slycht and tareyng,

  Restoris the common weill of our ofspryng.”

  Anchises gevis Eneas gud teching

  To gyde the pepill vnder his governyng.

  “The pepil of othir realmys, son,” said he,

  “Bene mor expert in craftis, and mar sle

  To forge and kerf lyflyke staturis of brass,

  Be contenans as the spreit tharin was;

  I trast, forsuyth, heirefter mony ane

  Sal hew quyk facis furth of marbil stane;

  Sum otheris bettir can thar causis pled;

  Sum bene mar crafty in ane other sted,

  With rewlis and with mesouris by and by

  For til exers the art of geometry;

  And sum mor subtel to discryve and prent

  The starnys movyng and the hevynnys went:

  Bot thou, Romane, ramember, as lord and syre,

  To rewle the pepil vnder thyne empyre;

  Thir sal thy craftis be, at weil may seme,

  The peax to modefy and eik manteme,

  To pardon all cumis oldin and recryant,

  And prowd rabellis in batale forto dant.”

  Thus said the noble fader Anchyses meik,

  As thai awondrit can thir wordis eik:

  “Behald Marcus Marcellus mast douchty,

  Quhar that he walkis, lo, sa gloriusly,

  With the rich spule triumphale deirly dycht,

  Quhilk he reft from his aduersar in fyght,

  As the maste vaileant victor that I ken,

  In bonty doith exceid all other men.

  This worthy knycht the common weil Romane,

  In gret affray perturbit, to rest agane

  And quyet sal restor, and on is he

  That venquys sal the Affricane mene,

  And the Franch rebellioun sall down bet;

  The thrid armour or rych spule gret,

  Reft from chiftane of weir, this Marcellus

  Sall hyng vp to the fader Quirynus.”

  And for alsmekil as Eneas saw

  In falloschip with this Marcus raik on raw

  A sembly springald, a far ong galland,

  Rycht schaply maid, in armour brycht schynand,

  Bot his vissage semyt scarsly blith,

  With luke doun cast, as in his face dyd kith

  That he was sum deill sad and no thing lycht:

  “Fader,” quod he, “quhat be on drery knycht,

  Quhilk haldis so with o
n prince cumpany?

  Quhidder his son, or sum nevo worthy,

  Of our gret lynage and successioun?

  O Lord, how gret brute, noys and sovn

  Of confluens that walkyng him about!

  Quhou gret apperance is in hym but dout

  Tilbe of prowes, and a valeant knycht!

  Bot a blak sop of myst, als dyrk as nycht,

  With drery schaddo bilappis his hed.”

  The fader tho, Anchises, in the sted,

  With teris bristyng furth, begouth to say:

  “O my sweit son, inquir nocht, I the pray,

  The excedand regrait and womanting

  Of thame bene fortocum of thyne ofspring.

  The fatis sall bot for a litill space

  Schaw on man to the erth and wardly place,

  And sal no langer suffer him tharin.

  O goddis abufe, the Romanys blude and kyn

  Semyt to ou our myghty and potent,

  Gif so it war the giftis he hym lent

  Had remanyt, or lang his lyfe had lest.

  Quhou gret murnyng of men all forcyest,

  For hym, furth of the feildis marcyall,

  Sall dyn and resound to the cite wall!

  And O thou god of the flude Tyberyne,

  Quhou mony fertyrris and duyl habetis schyne

  Sall thou behald, as thou flowis at Rome

  Down by his new maid sepultur or tovme!

  Ne nevir child cummyn of Troiane blude

  In sic beleif and glory and gret gude

  Sal rayss his forbearis Italianys;

  Ne nevir, certis, the grund of the Romanys

  Of ony fostir sal him so avance.

  Allace, quhat harm of the disseuerance!

  Of thy gret piete and thyne ancyant treuth,

  Thy hand onvenquyst in batale, O quhat reuth!

  Nane suld, but dammage, hym in harnes meit,

  Quhidder so aganyst him he went on feit,

  Or it on horsbak, as thir knychtis rydis,

  With spurris brochand the fomy stedis sydis.

  Allace my child, so worthy tobe menyt,

  Worthy tobe bewalit and complenyt!

  Gyf thou thyne hard werdis mycht vincus,

  Thou salbe namyt the souerane Marcellus.

  Of fresch lilleis reke me my handis full;

  The purpour flowris I sal skattir and pull,

  That I may strow, with sik rewardis at lest,

  My nevoys sawle, to cule and to fest,

  And, but profit, sik costage sall exers.”

  Apon this wyss seir thingis dyd reherss

  Anchises, and thus wide quhar thai do walk

  Our al that regioun, haldand spech and talk

  Within the large feildis of hailsum air,

  And euery thing per ordour visseyt thar.

  And efter that Anchises, hand in hand,

  Had thus his son led our all that land,

  And his curage inflambit by and by

  With the gret fame tocum and hie glory;

  Syne to this valeant man he rekkynnys heir,