by Virgil
The cundytis of his voce war lowsyt fre.
Quhen he mycht speke, than thir hys wordis was:
“This is nocht thy last cunnand, son Pallas,
Thou promyst not so vnto thy fader deir,
Bot at thou suld pass mair warly in weir,
And not in danger of the cruell Mart.
Owr weill I wist, with harmys at my hart,
Quhat aventour, and of quhou mekill mycht
Till ony ong man, the first feld in fight,
Was gret desire of new loif or glory,
And how sweit was renown of chevalry.
Allace, the first commancement and assays
To yng men beyn in weir full fey always,
And rycht hard bene the first entechment
Of hasty batall to thame beyn not acquent.
My vowys nor my prayeris gret and small
War not accept to nane of goddis all.
O thou my blissyt spowss, decessit or now,
Full happy of that ded in faith was thou,
That to thys sorow not preservyt was!
Bot be the contrar I, allace, allace,
Ourlevit hass my fatys profitabill,
And am alyve as fader miserabill;
Quham wald God in on sammyn mortale weris
Rutilyanys had ourquhelmyt with thar speris,
That, followand to the feild my feris of Troy,
I mycht haue ald this sawle full of ennoy,
So that this funeral pomp, quhilk heir is wrocht,
My body, and nocht Pallas, hame had brocht!
Ne byd I nocht ou, Troianys, to argew
Of amyte and allyance bund of new,
Ne our rycht handis and promyss, quhilkis we
In frendschip knyt and hospitalyte:
This mysfortoun is myne of ald thirlage,
As tharto detbund in my wrachit age.
Bot had this hasty ded, sa ondigest,
Haue sufferit bot my son a stound to lest,
Quhill of Rutilianys he had slane thousandis,
And investit the Troianys in thar landis,
That is to say, in Latyum or Lavyn,
Weill lykyt me that he had endyt syne.
And forthir eik, Pallas, my son so deir,
Na mair rychly cowth I the lay on beir,
Nor with mair wirschip list me entyre the,
Than is providit be reuthfull Enee,
Be myghty Troianys and pryncis Tyrrheyn;
For all the Tuscane mene, as heir is seyn,
Gret trophe and rich spule hydder bryngis,
On perkis rychly cled with thar armyngis
Quham thy richt hand in feild had put to ded.
Bot, O thou Turnus, in this sammyn sted
Amangis otheris heir suld thou haue be,
In form and maner of a stok of tre,
Gyf he of age had beyn equale and perys,
And baith elyke cummyn to our strenthy heris.
Bot now, allace, I, fey onhappy wight,
Quharto delay I Troianys from the fyght?
Pass haym in haist, and remember to say
Thir my desiris to our prynce, I ou pray:
Evander says that thy ryght hand, Ene,
Is all the cawss that he delays to de,
Or that this haitsum lyfe sustene he wald,
Sen now is lost hys son Pallas the bald:
Sa till hym that he oblist is of det,
Baith to the son and the fader, to set
on Turnus slauchter for owr recompens:
To the Eneas only, but offens,
And to fortoun, remanys this iournay it,
Quharwith thou may thankfully be acquyt.
Tell hym, na lust to lyf langar seyk I;
Onlesum war syk plesour I set by;
Bot for a thraw desyre I to lest heir,
Turnus slauchter and deth with me to beir,
As glaid tithandis onto my child and barn,
Amang the gostis law in skowgis dern.”
Heir athir party takis byssy cuyr
The ded bodeis to graif in sepultur.
The meyn sesson Aurora rasyt hir lycht,
Richt confortabill for euery mortall wight,
Rendryng agane the oportunyte
Of laubour and of wyrkyng, as we se.
The prynce Eneas, and the kyng Tarchon,
Gret byngis hass of treys mony one
Vpbeldyt, by the bowand costis bay.
Thydder euery ane dyd cary, but delay,
Efter thar eldris gyss, onto that sted
The corpsis of thar frendis that war ded,
As fortodo thar observans of det;
And thar vnder the smoky fyre hass set,
Quhill that the hevynnys hye dyd walxin dirk,
Involuyt with the reky stewys myrk.
And thryss on fut all sammyn euery man
In schynand armour abowt the fyris ran,
And thryss the wofull funerall inglys thai
Circulyt abowt on horsbak in array,
With gowlyng and with vocis myserabill;
Quhill that of trigland terys lamentabill
The feildis strowyt war in euery place,
Armouris all wet with wepyng, and thar face.
The clamour of the men and trumpys stevyn
Gan spryngyng vp on hight onto the hevyn.
Syne cumis sum, and in the fyre dyd slyng
The weirly wedis, spule and armyng
Rent from the Latynys slane into the weir,
As helmys, scheildis, and rych swerdis seir,
Brydillys, and all thir stedis trappouris fair,
The hasty hurland charyot quhelys squair;
Ane other sum kest in the fyre syk geir
As weilbekend the corps was wont to weir,
Thar awyn wapynnys, and thar onsilly scheildis,
Quhilk mycht thame nocht defend into the feildis.
Full mony carcage of thir oxin gret
Abowt the fyris war brytnyt and downbet,
And bustuus bowkis of the byrsyt swyne,
Our feildis all byreft from euery hyne;
Thai steik the beistis, and swakkis in the fyre,
Endlang the costis all tho byrnand schyre;
And can behald quhou that thar feris brynt,
Observand weill the gledis half owt quent,
And eik the assys half brynt of the ded;
Ne may thai thens be harlyt of that sted,
Quhill at the hevyn ourquhelmyt the dirk nycht,
That ganand is for fyry sternys brycht.
And, netheless, the Latynys lamentabill
In placis seir fyris innumerabill
Vpbeldit hass, and sum with wofull rerd
Feill corpsis deip bedelvys vnder erd;
And sum alsso in cartis haue thai sent
To townys in the feildis adiacent;
And sum alsso war send to the cite,
Tobe entyrit as thame accordyt be.
The remanent all sammyn assemlyt ourane,
But numbyr and but ordour, euery ane,
Of corpsys slane in huge heip byrn thai;
And thus on athir sydis, the hie way
And large feildis dyd oft of fyris schyne.
As that the thryd days lycht eftir syne
The dyrk nycht removyt from the sky,
The assys deip, murnand with mony a cry
Doun dyd thai cast, and scrapis owt atanys
The hait amyrris and the byrslyt banys;
And it all warm, onculyt, sone thai haue
Bedelvyn thame, and in the erd begrave.
Bot, certis, than renewys the womentyng
Within the mychty burgh of Latyn kyng,
The rumour rayss and murmour principaly
Of bewalyng all owt the maist party.
The wofull moderis and matronys wepis heir,
The eldmoderis, and eyk the systeris deir;
Thar mycht be hard with duylfull breistis greyt
The yng babbys walyng on the streyt,
That had thar faderis slane this hynder day,
Cryand, “Ichane, allace, and weill away!”
Thai curss and wary fast this vengabill weir,
And Turnus wedlok bannys with mony a teir:
All in a voce thai cry, desirand he
Suld ondertak the batall and melle,
And feght allane to mak end of this thing,
As he the quhilk pretendis to weld the ryng
Of Italy with honour pryncipall,
Desyrand that he suldbe lord of all.
The brym Drances aggregis weill this thyng,
And buyr on hand baldly befor the kyng
Nane bot this Turnus challance wald Enee,
Turnus only to feght desyris he.
And, be the contrar, mony sensymentis
For Turnus schawys evident argumentis:
Of Queyn Amatha the gret authoryte
Dekkis and defendis hym with wordis sle;
And hys gret fame and actis triumphall
Hys querrell dyd susteyn agane thame all.
Befor Kyng Latyn and hys consale in deid
Venulus schawis responss of Diomeid.
Abuf all this, lo, the ilk stound onon
Thyr messyngeris, all trist and wobegon,
Returnyt haymwart into thar maist neid
From the gret cite of Schir Dyomed,
Reportand answer, that alhaill was lost
Thar lang travale and maist sumptuus cost;
Schortly, thai had doyn thar na thyng at docht,
The rych gyftis nor gold avalyt nocht,
For all thar large requestis and prayeris;
To help the Latyn pepill in thar weris
Behuffyt thame to seik other supple,
Or to mak paix with Troiane prynce Ene.
Herand thir wordis, this ald Latyn kyng
Falys all curage, with gret lamentyng,
For patently the goddis wraik, hym thocht,
Schew that by fait Ene was thyddir brocht,
And manifest mycht of goddis hym dyd sustene,
That schew the new gravys befor thar eyn.
Quharfor, a gret consale assemlys he,
And callys the cheif ledaris of hys mene,
Chargeand thai suld in hys palyce conveyn
Onto the riall chymmyss. Tho bedeyn
Thai flok so fast that euery way was hyd.
Thys ancyent kyng dyd set hym dovn amyd
The cepturyt men, as first and pryncipall,
Bot no thyng semyng glaid of cheir at all.
Than the ambassat, that was returnyt agane
From Dyomedis cite Etholiane,
He bad do schaw the credens that thai brocht,
Per ordour haill thar answer, faland nocht.
Silens was maid, ilk man hys tong held than,
And Venulus, of thame the gretast man,
Begouth fortill obey the kyngis charge,
And schew hys credens planly thus at large:
“O citeanys, we haue visseit Diomed,
And seyn thai strenthys by thame of Arge in deid
Vpbeldyt in the boundis of Italy;
The ways thiddir we haue met by and by,
And eschapyt all dangeris by the gait,
All thocht our iourney was nocht fortunait.
We haue twichit that sammyn douchty hand
By quham of Troy distroyt was town and land;
Quhilk now as victor, in the feildis plane
Besyde the skyrtis of the mont Gargane,
Within boundis of Iapigya sule,
That now on days Apule clepyng we,
Vprasyt hess the cite Argyripas,
Quham fra hys natyve pepill namyt he was.
Fra that we entryt war in hys presens,
And forto speke was geif ws audiens,
The gyftis and rewardys present we;
Our credens, our estait, and our cuntre,
Declaryt plane, and quha with wer ws socht,
And quhat occasioun had ws thidder brocht.
He hard ws weill, and on a frendly wyss
Thus answer maid with wordis war and wyss:
‘O fortunat folk, quhar Saturn regnyt swa,
he ancyent pepill of Ausonya,
Quhat mysaventour and onkyndly heyt
ou steris from our lang rest and quyet,
Prouocand ou to movyng, rayss and steir
Sa peralus, onknowth and onthrifty wer?
For euery ane of ws that dyd offens
In Troys bundis with swerd and violens,
Or cruell handis set fortill invaid
Kyng Priamus, and of hys realm degraid
(I leif ontald all thai that in the feld
By Troys wallys hess swelt vnder scheld,
Or that the flude of Symois by the town
Drownyt in stremys warpis vp and dovn),
Our all the warld of ws hail the remanys
Beyn punyst sor with onrehersabill panys,
And sufferit hess all maner of turment.
Ful weill knawis my wordis, quhat I ment,
The sorofull constillatioun of Mynerve,
Quhilk causyt mony douchty man to sterve;
And on the costis of Euboica
The rokis beris witness it alssua,
And the montane Caphareus, God woit,
That vengeans tuke and wraik apon our floyt.
From that weirfar and cursyt chevalry
We cachyt ar to syndry costis, far by
Our natyve bundis and ald heritage.
Lo, Menelay, ane of the cheif barnage
And Atrius son, yclepyt Atrydes,
To Protheus pillaris, hait Pyramydes,
Constrenyt is in exill forto wend;
Vlixes alsso, as full weill is kend,
Bewavyt is wyd quhar our all the see,
So that the Ciclopes of Ethna saw he.
Quhat suld I tell of Neoptolemus,
That other wyss to name is hait Pyrrus,
The hard myschans and tynsell of hys ryng?
Or quhou aganys Idomens the kyng
Hys kyndly goddis and cuntre dyd rebell,
And hym gan of hys natyve realm expell?
Or quhou the Locrys, Aiax Oelyus ost,
Now doys inhabyt the waist Lybyan cost?
Sen he hym self the gret Agamenon,
The kyng of Myce, and cheif ledar of on
Of all the Grekis ostis in batale,
Ha, schame to say, fowlely befell
That by the handis of hys awyn wife
The first nycht in hys palyce lost hys lyf.
And he that venquyst Asya lyis ded;
The sle adultrar occupiis hys sted.
The goddis eik sa far dyd me invy,
That in my natyve land neuer sall I spy
My chaist spousage, lyke as befor hess bene,
Ne Calydon my realm of crymys cleyn.
And now alsso, a grisly thyng to se,
Ane selcouth monstre, lo, betyd hes me:
My ferys lost with plumys in the ayr
As thame best lykis ar fleand our alquhar
(Allace of my folkis the vengeabill wraik!),
Transformyt in fowlys, wandris by the laik,
And of thar lamentabill and wofull sowndis
The large costis dynnys and redoundis.
Thir myschevys for my trespass and cryme,
I may traist, hess betyd me sen that tyme
That I, witles and so rakless, perfay,
The hevynly bodeis durst with swerd assay,
And with smert wond was our presumptuus
To violat the rycht hand of Venus.
Solist na mar,’ quod he, ‘persuaid me nocht
That to so dangerus batellis I be brocht.
Eftir the bettyng down of Troys wallys,
With the Tewcranys, quhat chance that euer befallis,
I will na mair debatis mak nor weris;
Nor of our ald stryfe thir hynder heris,
That so myschews was and bad to se,
May I glaidly remember now,’ said he.
‘Tha gyftis rych and mony fair presandis
Quhilkis e to me hess brocht furth of our landis,
Return and beir onto the prynce Ene.
Contrar hys keyn dartis ellis stand haue we,
And hand for hand matchit hym in fycht:
Beleif me as expert, quhou stowt and wight
Is he owther in batale place or feld,
And how sternly he rasys vp hys scheild,
Or with quhou gret a thud in the melle
Ane lance towartis hys aduersar thrawys he.
Forthir,’ he said, ‘I certify ou alssua,
That, gif the forsaid grond of Phrygia
Twa othir sik men fosterit had or bred,
The citeis all of Arge mycht sor haue dred,
And the ofspryng of Dardan esely
Mycht in our realmys arryvit by and by,
So that Grece suld haue murnyt, euery tovn,
The fatis ald reuersit vp syd dovn.
Alhail the stop, resistans and delay
Mayd at Troy wallys, quhil the sege thar lay,
Was by the handis of Hector and Ene:
The Grekis conquyst lang tyme, trastis me,
By thame was styntit, apon sik maner
That it prolongit was quhil the tent er.
Athir of thame in bonte and curage
Excelland war, and full of vassalage;
Athir of thame maist souerane and douchty
In dedis of armys, prowes and chevalry;
Bot this Ene was first all owt express
Of reuth, compassioun and of gentilnes.
Tharfor all sammyn adionys our rycht handis
In ferm allyance of concord, and sik bandis
Be ony wyss se he obtene,’ quod he;
‘For, gif thai start till armys in melle,
Be war with thame fortill debait, I red.’
Maist nobill kyng of kyngis, in this sted
Hys answer hess thou hard, as I haue tald,
And twichand this gret batale quhat he wald.”
The kyng proponys with Enee to tak pess
Incontrar Turnus; tharto persuadis Drances.
Scars had the messyngeris thir wordis said,
Quhen all the Latynys, trublyt, full onglaid,
Fra hand to hand quhispyris fast and roundis,
On diuerss wyss demyng with murmour soundis —
Lyke as the swyft watir stremys cleir
Sum tyme rowtand men on far may heir,
Quhar it is stoppit with thir stanys round,
That of the ryveris brute and brokkyn sound,
Brystand on skelleis our thir demmyt lynnys,
The bankis endlang all the fludis dynnys.
Bot efter that thar mudis mesyt wer,
Thar waverand wordis stanchit and sik beir,
With reuerens first blyssand the goddis mycht.
The kyng thus carpys from hys trone on hycht:
“O Latyn pepill, forsuyth I wald al gait,
And so had beyn far better, weill I wait,
