Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  To quykkyn thy sclavys tholyt schamfull ded maste fell!

  Blissyt be thou virginal frute, that hereit hell,

  And pait the pryce of the forbodin tre!

  Thocht thou large stremys sched apon the rude,

  A drop had bene sufficient of thy blude

  A thousand warldis to haue redemyt, I grant;

  Bot thou the well of mercy wald nocht skant,

  Ws to provoik to lufe the, and be gude.

  Our all this syne, thyne infynyte Godhed,

  Thy flesch and blude in form of wyne and bred,

  Tobe our fuyd of grace, in plege of glor,

  Thou hest ws geif, in perpetuall memor

  Of thy passioun and dolorus paynfull ded.

  Quhat thankis dew or ganeld, Lord benyng,

  May I, maist wrachit synfull catyve indyng,

  Rendir for this souerane peirles hie bonte?

  Sen body, saule and all I haue of the,

  Thou art my pryce, mak me thy praye condyng.

  My makar, my redemar and support,

  Fra quham all grace and gudnes cumis at schort,

  Grant me that grace my mysdedis til amend,

  Of this and all my warkis to mak gud end:

  Thus I beseik the, Lord, thus I exort.

  From the begynnyng and end be of my muse:

  All other Iove and Phebus I refuss.

  Lat Virgill hald hys mawmentis to him self;

  I wirschip nowder ydoll, stok nor elf,

  Thocht furth I write so as myne autour dois.

  Is nane bot thou, the Fader of goddis and men,

  Omnipotent eternal Iove I ken;

  Only the, helply Fader, thar is nane other:

  I compt not of thir paygane goddis a fudder,

  Quhais power may nocht help a haltand hen.

  The scripture clepys the God, of goddis Lord;

  For quha thy mandat kepys in ane accord

  Bene ane with the, not in substans, bot grace,

  And we our Fader the clepys in euery place:

  Mak ws thy sonnys in cherite, but discord.

  Thow haldis court our cristall hevynnys cleir,

  With angellis, sanctis and hevynly spretis seir,

  That, but cessyng, thy glor and lovyng syngis:

  Manifest to the, and patent, bene all thyngis,

  Thy spowss, and queyn maid, and thy moder deir.

  Concord for ever, myrth, rest and endles blyss,

  Na feir of hell, nor dreid of ded, thar is

  In thy sweit realm, nor na kynd of ennoy,

  Bot all wilfair, eyss and euerlestand ioy;

  Quhais hie plesance, Lord, lat ws neuer myss! Amen

  Explicit prologus Incipit liber decimus &c.

  Quhou Iupiter the court of goddis dyd call,

  And Venus makis complaynt amangis thame all.

  On breid or this was warp and maid patent

  The hevynly hald of God omnipotent.

  The kyng of men and fader of goddis all

  Ane consale or a sessioun maid do call,

  Amang the spretis abufe and goddis gret,

  Within hys sterrit hevyn and mylky set:

  Quharfra, amyd hys trone sittand full hie,

  Our all the erd he mycht behald and se

  The Troianys castellys and the pepill Latyne.

  Down sat the goddis in thar segis dyvyne,

  The faldyn ettis baith vp warpyt braid.

  First Iove hym self begouth, and thus he said:

  “O hevynly wightis, of gret power and mycht,

  Quhou is betyd our myndis bene sa lycht,

  That our decreit fatale and sentens hie

  Retretit thus and turnyt bakwartis suldbe?

  Or quhy with frawart myndis now of layt

  Aganys our ressonabill oraclys e debait?

  My will was not at the Italianys

  In batale suld concur contrar Troianys.

  Quhat maner discord be this at we se,

  Express agane our inhibitioun?” said he,

  “Quhat dreid or reuerens thame, or thame, hess movyt

  To ryn till armys, and rasys weir controvit?

  Or hes sic wyss persuadyt to bargane,

  With bludy wapynnys rent, and mony slane?

  Haist not the sesson to provoke nor prevene;

  Of batale cum sal detfull tyme bedene,

  Heirefter, quhen the ferss burgh of Cartage

  To Romys boundis, in thar feirfull rage,

  Ane huge myscheif and gret qualm send sall,

  And thyrll the hie montanys lyke a wall:

  Than war iust tyme in wreth to mak debait,

  Than war the tyme to rug and reif thus gait.

  Now of sic thingis leif and desist; with me

  Glaidly do makis frendly amyte.”

  A few wordis on this wyss Iupiter said,

  Bot not in quhoyn wordis him answer maid

  The fresch goldyn Venus: “O thou,” quod sche,

  “Fader of all, O eternal powste,

  Regnand abufe all men, and goddis eik,

  To the I cum, the rewthfully beseik,

  Sen thar nane other maieste bene ne glor

  That in sik neid may help ws to implor.

  Thow seys quhou, with bost and felloun feir,

  The Rutilianys makis gret derray and steir,

  And quhou Turnus, pransand on semly stedis,

  Throw owt the ostis rydis in steill wedis,

  And quhou orpyt and prowdly ruschis he

  Amyd Troianys, be fawour of Mars,” quod sche,

  “The strenth of wallys, nor the portis schet,

  May nocht salf Troianys; lo, within the et,

  Amyd the closs muraleis and paill

  And dowbill dikis, quhou thai thame assaill,

  Quhill the fowceis of blude rynnys on spait;

  Eneas absent of this na thing wait.

  Quhidder gif that thou list suffir neuermar

  Thar sege scalit, nor thame fre of dangar?

  Behald agane abowt New Troys wall,

  it bot begyn to byg, and not closs all,

  Quhou inverioin musteris thar ennemyiss;

  Ane other ost and sege abowt thame lyis,

  And newly, lo, Tedeus son, not far

  From Arpos cite into Calabar,

  To wery Troianys movis, Diomed.

  I feill agane my wondis newly bleid,

  And I, thy blude, thi get and douchter schene,

  it mortale wapynnys mon thoil eik and sustene!

  Gyf the Troianys, but thy benevolens,

  Or repungnant to thy magnificens,

  Hess socht onto the cost of Italy,

  Lat thame be punyst and thar cryme aby,

  And I sall suythly stand content for me,

  Thou mak thame na kynd help nor it supple.

  Bot gif thai followit haue for thar behufe

  Sa feill responsis of the goddis abufe,

  With syndry admonitions, charge and redis

  Of the infernal wightis and spretis that ded is,

  Than wald I knaw the causs or resson quhy

  That ony mycht pervert or it bewry

  Thy commandmentis? How, or quharfor, may thai

  New fatys mak and the ald do away?

  Quhat nedis to reherss, quhou on the cost

  Of Scycilly thar schippis brynt war lost?

  Or quharto suld I dwel, to schaw ou thus,

  Quhou be the god of tempest, Eolus,

  The rageand wyndis send war our alquhar,

  Or Iris catchit throw clowdis of the ayr?

  Now movyt eyk bene fendlych wightis affrayt:

  Befor, only that chance was onassayt,

  Bot now Alecto newly is furth sent

  Into the ovir warld, that fell torment,

  With Bacchus fury enragit by and by,

  Walkand throu all citeis of Italy.

  Na thyng I pauss on the empyre,” quod sche,

  “All thocht we hoip had at sic thing suld be,

  Quhen fortoun
schew tharof sum apperans:

  Lat thame be victour quham thou lyst avans.

  And gif na realm in this warld remanys,

  Quhom thy stern spouss list geif to the Troianys,

  I the beseik of Troy by the rewyne,

  By that subuersioun rekand, and huge pyne,

  Suffyr that yng Ascanyus mot be

  Salf fra all wapynnys, and of perrell fre;

  And, at the lest, in this ilk mortall stryve

  Suffir thy nevo to remane alyve.

  As for Ene, forsuyth, I mak na cair:

  Thoill hym in onkowth stremys, as he was ayr,

  Be dryve and warpyt euery sey abowt,

  To follow furth in danger and in dowt

  Quhat curss and went at fortoun lyst hym sent;

  Most it pless the fader omnipotent

  That I may bot defend on litill page,

  And hym withdraw from this ferss weris rage.

  I haue in Cipyr the cite Amathus,

  And the hie standand burgh that hayt Paphus,

  And eik the ille yclepyt Cythera,

  The hallowyt hald als of Idalya,

  Quhar, rendryt vp all armys in that stede,

  Duryng hys age he sobir lyfe may led.

  And command eik with gret forss and mastry

  The burgh of Cartage down thryng Italy;

  Fra thyne sall na thyng resist nor gaynstand

  Contrar citeis of Tyre or Affrik land.

  Quhat proffit hass it done, or avantage,

  Of Troys batale to haue eschape the rage,

  And throw amyd the Grekis fyrys eik

  Haue fled away, and throw the sey haue seik,

  Sa feill dangeris bywent and ourdryve

  Our streym and landis; gyf that thus belyve

  Troianys hes socht till Itaill, to vpset

  New Troys wallys, tobe agane doun bet?

  Had not bene bettir thame in thar natyve hauld

  Have syttyn still amang the assys cauld,

  And lattyr isillys of thar kynd cuntre,

  Or barrand soyll quhar Troy was wont tobe,

  Than thus, fra ded to ded, from payn to payn,

  Be catchit on, and euery day be slane?

  Restor, I pray the, to thai wrachit wightis

  Xanthus and Symoes, fludis quhilk of rychtis

  Was wont tobe thar propyr herytage.

  O fader, suffir the fey Troiane barnage

  To seik agane quhat hard myschance befallys

  To Troy or Ilyon with thar brokyn wallys.”

  To Venus complaynt Iuno fra end till end

  Maid hasty ansuer, hir actioun to defend.

  The queyn Iuno than, but mair abayd,

  Prykkyt with felloun fury thus furthbrayd:

  “Quhy doys thou,” said sche, “to me sik offens,

  Constrenyng me brek closs profund sylens,

  And with thy wordis, quhar ayr I was koy,

  Prouokis to publyss and schaw myne hyd ennoy?

  Quhat maner man, or quhilk of goddis, lat se,

  To move batale constrenyt hess Ene,

  Or to engyre hym self to Latyn kyng

  As mortal fa, within hys proper ryng?

  I geif the cace, to Italy socht he

  Of the fatys by the autoryte,

  Provokyt tharto be the wyld dotage

  Of wod Cassandra in hir fury rage.

  Lat se, for all this, gyf that anys in sport

  To leif hys strenthis we dyd hym exhort,

  Or forto put hys lyfe in ony danger,

  To sayll, or submyt hym to wyndis seir?

  Lat se, gyf we hym causyt to walk at large,

  And till ane bab commyt the batellys charge,

  And governance haill of hys cite wallys?

  Lat se gyf we, how evir the chance befallys,

  Persuadyt hym forto commove and steir

  Other quyet pepill with hym to rayss the weir,

  Or till adione vp frendschip and ally

  With Tyrrhene pepill and folk of Tuscany?

  Quhat god amovit hym with sic a gawd

  In hys dedis to oyss sik slyght and frawd,

  Or quhilk of our hard poweris wrocht sic thyng?

  Quhar was Iuno with all, this lady yng?

  Or quhar was sche also quhen, istir nycht,

  Irys was send down throu the clowdis brycht?

  Is this a thing ful onlesum, but let,

  Thocht Italianys with flambys ombeset

  The new cite of Troy vprysand, lo?

  And is it not full gret dispyt also

  That, in hys natyve land and faderis ryng,

  Turnus remane, or pretend tobe kyng,

  Quhamto the god Pylumnus grandschir is,

  And haly nymphe Venylia moder, I wyss?

  Quhat, thinkis thou lesum is at Troianys infeir

  Violens to mak with brandis of mortall weir

  Agane Latynys, syk onkouth heritage

  Tyll occupy and subdew in bondage,

  And thar catale in spreth to dryve away?

  Quhat, haldis thou lesum als, I pray the say,

  From otheris to withdraw sa thyftuusly

  Thar eldfaderis and maist tendyr ally,

  Or, from betwix thar breist and armys tway,

  Thar treutht plyght spowsys forto reif away?

  Tocum and beseik trewys in strange landis,

  With syng or takyn of paix born in thar handis;

  And netheless, to mak reddy for weir,

  Purvay thar schippis, provide armour and geir?

  To salf Ene, hess thou not power and mycht

  From Grekis handis hym to withdraw be slycht,

  And set in sted of that man, light as lynd,

  Owder a clowd or a waist puft of wynd?

  And eik thou may transform the schippis,” quod sche,

  “Intil alsmony goddessis of the see.

  Bot, be the contrary, Rutilyanys ofspryng

  We suld support, that is forbodyn thyng!

  Thy son Ene, mysknawyng this deray,

  As thou allegis, is absent now away:

  And quhat iniurys, absent mot he remane,

  And ignorant for ay of this bargane?

  Thow hass Paphos, thyne is Idalia,

  And thyne mot be the ile of Cithera.

  Sen thou hess all thir at command and will,

  Lat other folkis in paix and rest dwell styll.

  Quharto assaleis thou a strang cite,

  That hess bene oft exercyt in melle,

  And lyst invaid pepill with hartis kene?

  I can not fynd quhat occasioun e meyn.

  Haue we etlyt the Phrigyane febill geir

  Down from the grund to welt our into weir?

  Quhidder was it we, or than Parys, that faltyt,

  That wrachit Troianys by Grekis war assaltit?

  Quhat was the causs that Europ and Asya

  To rayss the weir in armys war sa thra

  Aganyst otheris, and thar auld allyans

  With thiftuus reif to brek on sic myschans?

  Was I not governour and cheif ledar thar,

  The tyme quhen that the Troiane adulterar

  Ombesegyt the cite of Spartha,

  And the queyn Heleyn reft and brocht awa?

  Or quhidder gif I evir into that weir

  Mynysterit dartis, wapynnys or sic geir?

  Or it that bargane stuffyt or bet, lat se,

  With Cupydis blynd lust and subtilite?

  Than had bene honest tyme, and ganand baith,

  Till haue previdit for thy frendis skaith.

  Now, al to layt, with thyne iniust complantis

  Aganyst ws thou rysis, and attantis

  Forto warp owt thy vane wordis chydyng,

  Quhilk certis may avale the in na thing.”

  With siclyke wordis Iuno fra end to end

  Gan hir querrell sustene and als defend,

  And all the hevynly wightis dyd quhyspir and rown,

  In opynyonys full diuerss, vp and down —

  Lyke
as first, or wyndis blast be persave,

  The swouch is hard within the woddis waif,

  With frasyng soundis quhisland, it onknaw

  Quharof cumis this bruyt owt throw the schaw,

  All thocht it be to maryneris a syng,

  Of wyndis blast to follow sur taknyng.

  The fader than omnipotent maist hie

  That our all thingis hess souerane maieste,

  Begouth to say, and quhen he spak, all cessyt,

  The hevynly heich howss of goddis was pecyt,

  The erthis grund schuke trymlyng for feir,

  And still but movyng stud the hevynnys cleir,

  The wyndis eik thar blastis lownyt sone,

  The sey calmyt hys fludis playn abone.

  “Ressaue,” quod he, “my sawis, and tak tent,

  And thir my wordis within our myndis enprent.

  Sen that algatis it may not sufferit be

  Latynys confidir with Troianys and Ene,

  Nor e can nocht mak end of our debait,

  I sal me hald indifferent, the meyn gait,

  And as for that, put na diuersyte

  Quhiddir so Italianys or Troianys thai be;

  Quhow evir this day the fortoun with thame standis,

  Bruke weill thar chance and werd on athir handis,

  Lat ich of thame hys hoip and forton sew:

  Quhidder so the fatys hess determyt of new

  Troianys to be assegit with Italianys

  To thar myscheif, or wraik of the Troianys,

  Quhilkis with frawart admonytions sa lang

  Peraventour hess errit and gane wrang —

  Nowder Troianys nor Rutilianys freith will I.

  Lat athir of thame thar awin fortoun stand by,

  And bruke thar wark thai haue begun; but faill,

  Kyng Iupiter salbe to all equale.

  The fatis sal provyd a way mair habill.”

  And with that word, fortill hald ferm and stabill

  Hys godly aith and promys, sworn hess he

  Be Stix the flude, Pluto hys broderis see,

  Be that ilk pykky layk with brays blak,

  And laithly golf, to kepe all that he spak,

  And, til afferm hys aith, at hys lykyng

  The hevynnys all maid trymbill, for a syng.

  Thus endit was the consale, and al doyn,

  And Iupiter rayss fra hys goldyn troyn,

  Quham hevynly wightis amyddis thame with ioy

  Ontill hys chymmys ryall dyd convoy.

  Quhou the Troianys defendis thar cyte,

  Eneas absent sekand mair supple.

  Duryng this quhile, all the Rutilianys stowt

  The cite portis lappit rownd abowt,

  Forto down bet the Troianys, euery syre,

  Inveroin all the wallys with hait fyre.

  Eneas barnage, at myschefis huge

  Thus ombeset, and segyt but refuge,

  Inclusyt war but hop to wyn away,

  And sobyrly at defens, as thai may,