Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  I, the self man was the causs of thy ded,

  With my trespass, my child, in euery sted

  Filyt the glor and honour of thy name,

  Thy hie renovn bespottand with my schame,

  As I that was, by invy and haitrent

  Of my awin pepill, with thar haill assent,

  Expellit from my ceptre and my ryng,

  And was adettyt, for my mysdoyng

  Onto our cuntre, till haue sufferit pane:

  I aucht and worthy was to haue bene slane,

  And to haue ald this wikkyt sawle of myne

  Be all maner of turment and of pyne,

  Fortill amend myne offencis and fed.

  Ha, now I lyf, allace, and thou art ded!

  it want I not off men the cumpany,

  Nowder lyght of lyfe, ne cleirness of the sky,

  Bot soyn I sal thame leif and part thar fra.”

  And sayand thus, sammyn with mynd ful thra

  He rasyt hym vp apon hys wondit thee,

  And determyt to revenge hym or de;

  For thocht the violens of hys sair smart

  Maid hym onfery, it hys stalwart hart

  And curage ondekeit was gude in neid.

  He bad go fech Rhebus, hys ryall steid,

  Quhilk was hys wirschip and hys comfort haill,

  And hys support hys fays to assaill;

  For by this horss in euery gret iourne

  Hame fra the feild victour eschapit he.

  Quhamto Meentyus, but mair abaid,

  Seand the steid drowpand and sad, thus said:

  “Rhebus, we twa hess levit lang yfeir,

  Gyf that to mortal wightis in this erd heir

  Ony tyme may be reput lang,” quod he.

  “Owder this day beys thou revengear with me

  Of Lawsus dolorus deith, and wrek our schame,

  And sall as victour with the bryngyn hame

  on bludy spule, and Eneas hed;

  Or, gif na fors nor strenth into that sted

  Will suffir ony way that it be so,

  We sal in feild sammyn de baith two.

  For, O moist forcy steid, my lovyt foill,

  I can na wyss beleif at thou may thoill

  Tobe at ony otheris commandment,

  Nor that the list dedeyn, gif I war schent,

  Till obey ony master or lord Troiane.”

  And sayand thus, ful towartly onane

  The steid bekend held to hys schulder plat,

  And he at eyss apon hys bak doun sat,

  And baith hys fystis fillyt with dartis keyn,

  With helm on hed burnyst brycht and scheyn,

  Abuf the quhilk hys tymbret buklyt was,

  Lyke till a lokryt mayn with mony fass.

  And into sik array with swyft curss he

  Furth steris hys steid, and draif in the melle.

  Deip in hys hart boldynnys the felloun schame,

  Myxit with dolour, angir and defame;

  The fervent luf of hys son yng of age

  Gan catchyng hym into the furyus rage;

  Tharto alsso persuadis to the fyght

  Hys forss weil knawin, hys hardyment and mycht;

  And, in sik poynt, throw owt the rowtis all

  With mychty voce thryss dyd Eneas call.

  Eneas hard hym cry, and weil hym knew,

  And glaid tharof can towartis hym persew,

  And prayand says: “The fader of goddis hie,

  And eik mychty Apollo, that grant to me,

  Thou wald begyn in bargan on this land

  To mell with me, and to meyt hand for hand.”

  Thus carpyt he, and with stern lance, but tary,

  Furth steppys forto meyt hys aduersary.

  Bot Meentius, seand hym cumand,

  Cryit to hym onon and bad hym stand:

  “O thou maist cruell aduersar,” said he,

  “Quhat wenys thou so to effray and bost me,

  Sen thou my son hass me bereft this day,

  Quhilk was only the maner and the way

  Quharby thou myght ourcum me and distroy?

  Now, sen that I haue tynt all warldis ioy,

  Nowdyr I abhor the ded, to starve in fycht,

  Nor rak I ocht of ony goddis mycht.

  Desist, and cess to bost me or mannass,

  For I am cum to de in this ilk plass;

  Bot first I bryng the thir rewardis,” quod he.

  With that word, at his fa a dart leyt fle,

  And efter that ane other hass he cast,

  And syne ane other hass he fixit fast,

  About hym prekand in a cumpas large:

  Bot all thir dyntis sustenyt the goldin targe.

  Thryss on the left half fast, as he war wod,

  About Eneas raid he quhar he stude,

  Thik with hys handis swakkand dartis keyn;

  And thryss this Troiane prynce our all the greyn,

  Intil hyss stalwart stelyt scheild stikand owt,

  Lyke a hair wod the dartis bair abowt.

  At last, as he ennoyt of this deray,

  This irksum traysyng, iowkyng and delay,

  And cumryt wolx samony dartis invane

  Thus oft to draw furth and to cast agane,

  As he that was matchit that tyme, but faill,

  With hys fa man in bargane inequale,

  Quhilk ay was at avantage and onflocht,

  Full mony thing revoluyt he in thocht;

  Syne on that weirman ruschit he in teyn;

  In the forhed, betwix the horsys eyn,

  He kest hys speir with all his fors and mycht.

  Vpstendis than the stalwart steid on hycht,

  And with his helys flang vp in the ayr;

  Down swakkis the knycht sone with a fellon fair,

  Foundris fordwart flatlyngis on hys spald,

  Ourquhelmyt the man, and can hys feit onfald.

  Than the Latynys, and eik pepill Troianys,

  The hevynnys dyndlit with a schowt at anys.

  Eneas gyrd abufe hym with a braid,

  Hynt furth hys swerd, and forthir thus he said:

  “Quhar is he now, Meentius, sa stern?

  Quhar is the ferss stowt curage of that bern?”

  Quhamto Meentius, this ilk prynce Tyrrheyn,

  Fra that he mycht alyftyn vp his eyn

  To se the hevynnys licht, and draw hys braith,

  And hys rycht mynd agane recoverit haith,

  Thus answeris: “O thou dispetuus fo,

  Quharto me chydis thou reprochand so,

  And mannancis me to the ded by and by?

  Of my slauchter I think na villany,

  Nor on sik wyss heir com I not in feild,

  That I stand aw to swelt vnder my scheild;

  Nor, I beleif, na frendschip in thy handis,

  Nane syk trety of sawchnyng nor cunnandis,

  My son Lawsus band vp with the, perfay.

  Bot of a thyng I the beseik and pray,

  Gif ony plesour may be grantit or beld

  Till aduersaris, that lyis venquyst in feild;

  That is to knaw, suffir my body haue

  Ane sepultur, and with erd be bygrave.

  I knaw abowt me standand in this sted

  My folkis byttyr haitrent and gret feid:

  Defend me from thar furour, I requeir,

  And grant my corps, besyde my sonnys infeir,

  Into sum tumbe entyrit for tobe.”

  And sayand thus, knawand at he most de,

  Befor hys eyn persavyt the burnyst brand,

  That throuch hys gorge went from Eneas hand;

  Within hys armour, schortly to conclude,

  Furth bruschit the sawle with gret stremys of blude.

  Be this the son declynyt was almost,

  So that the Latynys and Rutilian ost,

  Quhat for the absens of thar duke Turnus,

  And new slauchter of bald Meentius,

  Withdrew thame to thar raset in affray,

  And Troianys went onto thar re
st quhil day.

  Explicit liber decimus Eneados Sequitur prologus in Vndecimum eiusdem

  BUKE XI

  [The Proloug of the Elevint Buke]

  Thow hie renown of Martis chevalry,

  Quhilk gladis euery gentill wight to heir,

  Gif thou mycht Mars and Hercules deify,

  Quharfor beyn nobillys to follow prowes swer?

  Weill auchtyn eldris exemplis ws to steir

  Tyll hie curage, all honour till ensew:

  Quhen we considir quhat wirschip tharof grew,

  All vyce detest, and vertu lat ws leyr.

  Prowes, but vyce, is provit lefull thyng

  By haly scriptur into syndry place,

  Be Machabeus, Iosue, Dauid kyng.

  Mychael, and eyk hys angellys full of grace,

  That can the dragon furth of hevynnys chace

  With vaileand dyntis of ferm myndis contrar,

  Nane other strokis nor wapynnys had thai thar,

  Nother speir, buge, pol ax, swerd, knyfe nor mace;

  In takynnyng that in chevalry or fyght

  Our myndis suld haue iust ententioun,

  The grond of batale fundyt apon rycht;

  Not for thou lyst to mak discentioun

  To seik occasyons of contentioun,

  Bot rype thy querrell, and discuss it plane:

  Wrangis to reddress suld wer be vndertane,

  For na conquest, reif, skat nor pensioun.

  To speke of moral vertuus hardyment,

  Or rathar of dyvyne, is myne entent;

  For warldly strenth is febill and impotent

  In Goddis sight, and insufficient.

  The Psalmyst says that God is not content

  In mannys stalwart lymmys nor strenth of corss,

  Bot into thame that trastis in hys forss,

  Askand mercy, and dredand iugement.

  Strang fortitud, quhilk hardyment cleip we,

  Abuf the quhilk the vertu souerane

  Accordyng pryncis, hecht magnanymyte,

  Is a bonte set betwix vicis twane:

  Of quham fuyl hardynes clepit is the tane,

  That vndertakis all perrellis but avice;

  The tother is namyt schamefull cowardyce,

  Voyd of curage, and dolf as ony stane.

  The first is hardy all owt by mesur,

  Of tyme nor rayson gevis he na cuyr,

  No dowt he castis, bot all thinkis suyr,

  Nocht may he suffir, nor hys hait endur;

  The tother is of all prowes sa puyr,

  That evir he standis in feir and felloun dreid,

  And nevir dar vndertake a douchty deid,

  Bot doith all curage and all manheid smuyr.

  The first soundis towart vertu sum deill,

  Hardy he is, couth he be avyse;

  Of hardyment the tother hass na feill:

  Quhou may curage and cowardys agre?

  Of fortitud to compt ou euery gre,

  As Arestotill in hys Ethikis doith express,

  It wald, as now, conteyn our lang process;

  Quharfor of other chevalry carp will we.

  Gyf Crystis faithfull knychtis lyst ws be,

  So as we aucht, and promyst hess at font,

  Than mon we byd baldly, and neuer fle,

  Nowder be abasyt, tepyt nor it blunt,

  Nor as cowartis to eschew the first dunt.

  Pawle witnessith, that nane sall wyn the crown,

  Bot he quhilk dewly makis hym reddy bown

  To stand wightly, and feght in the forfront.

  And quha that sall nocht wyn the crown of meid,

  That is to say, the euerlestand blyss,

  The fyre eternall neidlyngis most thai dreid:

  For Cryst into his gospell says, I wyss,

  Quha bydis nocht with me contrar me is;

  And gif thou be aganyst God, but weir

  Than art thou wageour onto Lucifer.

  God salf ws all from sik a syre as this!

  The armour of our chevalry, perfay,

  So the Apostyll techit ws express,

  Not corporall bot sperituall beyn thai,

  Our conquyst haill, our vassellage and prowes,

  Aganyst spretis and pryncis of myrknes;

  Not agane man, owr awyn brother and mait,

  Nor it aganyst our makar to debait,

  As rabell tell all vertu and gudness.

  The flesch debatis aganys the spiritual gost,

  Hys hie curage with sensual lust to law,

  And, be the body victor, baith ar lost;

  The spreit wald vp, the corpss ay down list draw:

  Thy secund fa the warld, ane other thraw,

  Makis strang assaltis of covatyss and estait,

  Aganyst quham is full perrellus debait;

  Thir fays famyliar beyn full quaynt to knaw.

  Lyff in thy flesch as master of thy corps,

  Lyf in this warld as nocht ay to remane;

  Resist the fendis slycht with all thy forss,

  He is thy ancyent ennemy, werst of ane;

  A thousand wylys he hess, and mony a trane,

  He kendillis oft thy flesch in byrnand heit,

  He causys wrachit plesans seym full sweit,

  And, for nocht, of this fals warld makis the fane.

  He is thy fa and aduersar principall,

  Of promyssioun wald the expell the land,

  For he the sammyn lost, and caucht a fall;

  Enfors the strangly contrar hym to stand.

  Rayss hie the targe of faith vp in thy hand,

  On hed the halsum helm of hoip onlace,

  In cheryte thy body all embrace,

  And of devoit oryson mak thy brand.

  Stand at defens, and schrynk not for a schor;

  Thynk on the haly marthyris at ar went,

  Thynk on the payn of hell, and endless glor,

  Thynk quhou thy Lord for the on rude was rent,

  Thynk, and thou fle fra hym, than art thou schent,

  Thynk all thou sufferis ontyll hys paynis nocht is,

  Thynk with quhou precyus pryce as thi sawll bocht is,

  And ay the moder of grace in mynd enprent.

  Feill beyn thy fays, fers and full of slycht,

  Bot be thou stalwart campioun and knycht;

  In feild of grace with forsaid armour brycht

  Thou may debait thame lyghtly in ilk fyght:

  For of fre will thyne acton is sa wight

  Nane may it perss, wilt thou resist and stand;

  Becum thow cowart, crawdoun recryand,

  And by consent ory cok, thy ded is dycht.

  Thynk quhou that fa is waik and impotent,

  May venquyss nane bot thame lyst be ourcum;

  He sall the nevir ourset, but thy consent.

  Eith is defens to say nay, or be dum;

  And for thy weill, lo, thys is all and sum:

  Consent nevir, and thou sall nevir be lost,

  By disassent thou may venquys ane ost,

  And, for anys a, tyne thy meid euery crum.

  Na wondir is, for by exempill we se,

  Quha servys hys souerane intill all degre

  Full mony days, and efter syne gif he

  Commyttis anys trayson, suld he nocht de,

  Less than hys prynce, of gret humanyte,

  Pardoun hys falt for hys lang trew seruys,

  Gyf he wald mercy craif? The sammyn wyss

  We beyn forgevyn, so that repent will we.

  Bot quhat avalys begyn a strang melle,

  Syne eld the to thy fa, but ony quhy,

  Or cowartly to tak the bak and fle?

  Na, thar sall nane optene hie victory,

  Less thai sustene the bargane dowchtely;

  And quha so perseueris to the end

  Ane conquerour and campioun euer is kend,

  With palm of triumphe, honour and glory.

  The maist onsilly kynd of forton is

  To haue beyn happy; Boetius techis so;
/>   As, to haue beyn in welth and hartis blyss,

  And now tobe dekeit and in wo:

  Richt so, quha vertuus was, and fallys tharfro,

  Of verray rayson malewrus hait is he;

  And it, by grace and hys fre volunte,

  He may recovir meryt agane alsso.

  I say “be grace”, for quhen thou art in grace,

  Thou may eik grace to grace, ay mor and mor;

  Bot quhen thou fallys be syn tharfra, allace,

  Of thy meryt thou gettis hyr nevirmor;

  it quhen thou dewly disponys the tharfor,

  Doand all that in the thar may be done,

  Of hys gudnes the etern Lord alssone

  Restorys the meryt, with grace in arlys of glor.

  Haill thy meryt thou had tofor thy fall,

  That is to say, thy warkis meritabill,

  Restorit ar agane baith gret and small

  And grace tharto, quhilk is sa profitabill

  That thou tharby to eik meryt art habill;

  Bot nocht ilk gre of grace thou had befor;

  That gettis thou not sa soyn, quhill forthyrmor:

  Be war tharfor, fall not, bot standis stabill.

  For lyke as quha offendit had hys lord,

  That lang tofor hys trew servand had bene,

  And syne agane becumis at ane accord

  With hys master, all thocht hys lord wald meyn

  On hys ald seruyce, it netheless, I weyn

  He sall nocht soyn be tendir, as he was ayr:

  Be war tharwith, and kepe ou fra the snair,

  Tyne nocht our laubour and our thank betweyn.

  Exempill takis of this prynce Ene,

  That, for hys fatale cuntre of behest,

  Sa feill dangeris sustenyt on land and see,

  Syk stryfe in stour sa oft with speir in rest,

  Quhill he hys realm conquest bath west and est:

  Sen all this dyd he for a temporall ryng,

  Press ws to wyn the kynryk ay lestyng,

  Address ws fast fortill opteyn that fest.

  He may be callyt, as says Sanct Augustyn,

  Ane delicat, owr esy, Crystyn knycht,

  Refusys to thoill traval, sturt or pyne,

  And but debait wenys till optene the fycht.

  To wyn the feild, and nevir preif thy mycht,

  That war nyce thyng! Thy kyng Cryste in batell

  Quhat sufferit he for the, O catyve wight?

  Lyis thou at eyss, thy prynce in bargane fell?

  Aschamys of our sleutht and cowardyce!

  Seand thir gentyles and the paganys ald

  Ensew vertu, and eschew euery vyce,

  And for sa schort renown warryn so bald

  To susteyn weir and panys teyr ontald;

  Than lat ws stryve that realm forto posseid,

  The quhilk was hecht till Abraham and hys seyd;

  Lord, at ws wrocht and bocht, grant ws that hald! etc.

  Explicit prologus Sequitur liber vndecimus