by Virgil
Full lang or now avisyt had we be
Twychand the common weill and materis hie;
And not at sik a poynt, apon this wyss,
Our consale to assembill and to avyss,
Quhen that our fays and aduersaris ar bown
Forto bysege the wallys of our town.
O citeanys, we move and ledis at hand
Ane wer inoportune, quhilk is onganand,
Aganys folkis of goddis clan discend,
That beyn invincybill, and weill can defend
So that na bargane may thame irk nor tyre;
Nor thocht thai venquyst war, baith man and syre,
May thai desist, ne withdraw the melle.
Gif ony hope or confidens had we
In chevalry of the Etholianys,
Quhilkis in Napillis with Dyomed remanys,
And for thir men of armys thidder send,
Do all sik traste away, and ou defend:
Lat euery man in his awyn self haue hope.
But quhou febill sik traste is e may grope,
And eik befor our eyn cleir may e se
In quhou gret perrell and proplexite
All other materis lyis now or standis;
All sic thyngis bene braid amang our handis.
I will accuss nor argu now na wight.
All haill the forss or strenth mycht be in fycht
Exercyt was, I wait; sen all the flour
And pyssans of this realm dyd stryve in stour.
Now so it is that I will breifly end,
And in schort wordis mak onto ou kend
The dowtsum purpos in my mynd remanys;
Attendans geif, and harkis all at anys.
I haue, besyde Tyber the Tuscane flud,
Ane ald feld onprofitabill and rude,
Far strekand west to the bundis quhar remanys
The Scicyll pepill, quhilkis clepit ar Sycanys;
The folk Auruncane and of Rutuly
This grund sawys full onthriftely,
With scharp plewis and steill sokkis seir
Thai hard hillys hyrtis forto eyr,
And on thir wild holtis harsk alsso
In faynt pastur doith thar bestis go.
All that cuntre and band of hillis hie,
Sa full of rochis pynnakillis, as we se,
Lat it be geif for amyte and concord
To the Troianys, and Eneas thar lord;
Syne offer thame equale trety condyng,
And, as our perys, do call thame in this ryng;
All sammyn lat thame dwell heir by and by;
Gif thai haue sik desyre to Italy,
Do lat thame beld thar cite wallys squar.
Bot gif so be that thai lyst ellis quhar
To othir costis or pepill forto wend,
Thar duellyng place for ay to apprehend,
And possibill be that of our boundis thai
May so depart, and from thens wend away;
Twyss ten schippis lat ws beld agane
Of strang tymmyr and treis Italyane,
And gif thai wald compleit ma in this land,
The stuf lyis all reddy by the strand;
Of thar schippis the numbir and maner
Lat thame command, and we sal furnyss heir
The irne graith, the wark men, and the wrychtis,
And all that to the schippis langis of rychtis.
And forthir eik it lykis me,” quod he,
“To ber my wordis to this prynce Ene,
And to conferm our frendschip and our pess,
Ane hundreth gay ambassatouris, but less,
Of gretast blude of the Latyn mene,
And in thar handis reke furth the paceabill tre;
And bair hym giftis and rewardis large,
Of gold and evoir mony sovm and charge,
The char or sete accordyng for the ryng,
Our rob ryall, enseneys of a kyng.
Avyss heiron amangis ou for the best,
And help to bryng our febill weill to rest.”
Ane Drances tho vpstud, and speke began,
The quhilk Drances was the self man
That, as we said haue laitly heir tofor,
Was rycht molest to Turnus euermor,
Quham the renovn of Turnus and glory
Prikkyt full sor with lurkand hyd envy;
Of moblis rych and plentuus was he,
And maste expert in speche and wordis sle,
Bot of his handis into batale sted
Full cald of curage, dolf as ony led,
And into consalys gevyng he was hald
A man nocht indegest, bot wyss and cald;
Bot ane seditioun or a brek to make
Sa masterfull, tharin was nane hys mayk;
The nobill kynrent of hys moderis syde
Maid hym full gret of blude, and full of pryde;
Hys fader was oncertane and onknaw.
And vp he startis in this ilk thraw,
With thir wordis Turnus to ourcharge,
Aggregyng on hym wrath and malyce large:
“O douchty kyng, thou axis consale,” said he,
“Of that mater quhilk, as semys me,
Is nother dyrk nor dowtsum, bot full cleir,
That mysteris not our avicis beyn heir.
The pepill haill grantis that thai wait
Quhat forton schawys, and in quhat estait
Our materis standis; bot thai ar arch to schaw,
Quhispirand amangis thame, thai stand sik aw.
Bot causs hym geif thame liberte to speke,
Do way his bost, at thar breth may outbreke;
I meyn of hym, by quhais onhappy werd
And fraward thewys, now ded on the erd
Samony cheif chiftanys and dukis lyis:
Forsuyth, I sall say furth all myne avyss,
All thocht with brag and bost, or wapynnys, he
Me doith await, and mannans forto de;
For by hys dedis may we se express
Thys cite haly plungit in distress,
Quhillys that he has maid hym to assay
The Troianys strenth, and stall sa sone away,
Havand assurans to withdraw and fle,
And into armys dois bost the hevynnys hie.
Bot, O thou all thar best and riall kyng,
To all thir gyftis ekis bot a thyng;
Onto thir presandis and wyss wordis seir,
That to Troianys thou hass byd say and beir,
Ekis a gift, and lat neuer demyt be
The bustuusness of ony may dant the.
Bot that thi douchter, O thou fader gude,
Onto on worthy prynce of gentill blude
Be gevyn, tobe thy son in law, I wyss,
As he that worthy sik a wedlok is;
And knyt vp paix, but mor disseuerans,
With that eternall band of allyans.
And gif sa gret raddour or dreid haue we
Within our myndis or our breistis,” quod he,
“That, for Turnus, we dar nocht do sik thyng,
Than lat ws for the weilfar of this ryng
Beseik hym tharfor and with haill entent
Requir hym at he wald grant hys consent,
So that the kyng, at hys fre volunte,
Mycht oyss and do hys proper dewyte,
And, for the weill publik of this land,
Desyre that he na wyss tharto ganestand.
O Turnus, hed and causar verraly
Of thir myschevis gret in Italy,
Quharto sa feill syss in playn perrellis now
Thir sylly wrachit citeanys warpis thou?
Nane hoip of weilfar haue we in this wer:
For paix halely we all the requer,
Togiddyr with Lavinia the schene may,
Quhilk is the pand or plege, this dar I say,
Of paix tobe kepit inviolate.
And I, forsuyth, quhilk, as be thy consait,
Thou fenys thyne evill willar fortobe,
And for the common weill, sa mot I thee,
So fortocum I refuss nocht, gud broder,
Bot lo me heir, now formest of all other
Humylly the besekyng: I requer,
Haue mercy, lord, of thyne awyn frendis deir,
Lat be thy stowt mynd, go thy way but lak,
With ane mair strang rebute and dryve abak.
Ded corpsis bet down enew haue we seyn,
Our large feildis and boundis all betweyn
Left desolate and waist of induelleris.
Bot gif thy fame and gret renown the steris,
Gyf in thy breist sa hie curage and mycht
Thou hass consauyt, thynkand the sa wight,
And gif that on sik wyss this hald ryall
Suldbe thy dowry and rych gyft dotall
Thou berys in hart, and is to the sa deir;
Do vndyrtake this thyng, and end the weir:
Address thy body baldly, and not spayr
Forto recontyr alone thyne aduersar,
To that entent, that Turnus all hys lyfe
May weld the kyngis douchter to hys wyfe;
So that we, dolf of curage as the led,
Be not doun strowit in the feildis ded,
In cumpaneis onberyit or bewalyt.
Bot thou, that hass in feild sa feil assalyt,
Gyf ony strenth thou hass or hardyment,
Or marciall prowes steryng thyne entent
For thy cuntre; aganyst the, for hys rycht,
Behald thy fa prouocand the to fyght,
ondir all reddy to mak hys party gude;
Delay no mor, bot manfully go to it.”
Turnus, at Drances speche commovit sair,
Rycht subtelly allegis the contrar.
The fers mude of Turnus, this bald syre,
At sik sawys kyndillyt hait as fyre,
Sychand rycht sor deip in hys breist onon,
Thir wordis pronuncis with a petuus grone:
“Drances,” said he, “forsuyth euer hess thou beyn
Large and to mekill of spech, as weil is seyn
Now, quhen the batale desyris wark at hand;
The consale syttand, first thou doys vpstand.
Bot not with wordis suld the cowrt be fillyt,
Set thou be gret tharin and ful evill willyt,
With haltand wordis fleand from the heir,
Quhen thou assouerit art of al danger,
Sa lang as that our strenthty wallys gude
Our ennemys debarrit doith exclude
Or quhil the fowceis of our forteress
Rynnys not our of bludy spait, I gess.
Tharfor trump vp, blaw forth thyne eloquens,
As thou was wont to do, mak thy defens:
Bot than thou may, Drances, be myne avice,
Me to reproch of feir and cowardyce,
Quhen that thi rycht hand into batale sted
Samony hepis of Troianys hes laid ded,
And quhen thou takynnyt hess so worthely
With syng tropheall the feildis, as haue I.
Full eith it is fortill assay, and se
Quhat may our sprety fors in the melle;
And, as full weill is knawyn to ws eik,
Our fais beyn not far from hens to seik,
Bot plant about the wallis of our town:
Aganyst thame go mak ws reddy bown.
Quhy duellys thou and tareis thus al day?
Quhidder gif thy marcial dedis, as thai war ay,
Into thy wyndy clattrand tung salbe,
And in tha cowart feit, euer wont to fle?
Says thou I was repulsyt and dryve away?
O maist onworthy wight, quha can that say,
Or me iustly reprochyng of syk lak,
That I rebutyt was or dung abak,
By me quhen thou behald mycht Tyber flude
Boldyn and ryn on spait with Troian blude,
And all the famyll of Evander kyng
Brocht onto grond alhail and his ofspryng,
And the Archadis, confundyt and ourset,
With mony ma in armys I doun bet?
The grysly Bytias, and Pandarus his brother,
Thai ar expert gif I fled one or other,
And eik thai thousand sawlys on a day
As victor I to hell send hyne away,
Quhen that I was inclusyt at distress
Amyd myne ennemyss wallis and forteress.
Thou says, in weir na hoip is of weilfar:
O wytless wyght, pronunce that, and declar
Sik chance betyd on Dardan capitane,
And spa sik thyng onto thy dedis ilkane!
And forthir eik, sen thou art mad becum,
Cess not forto perturbill all and sum,
And with thy felloun raddour thame to fley;
The febill myghtis of on pepill fey,
Into batale twyss venquyst schamefully,
Spar not fortill extoll and magnyfy;
And, by the contrar, the pissans of Latyn kyng
Do set at nocht, bot lychtly, and down thryng.
Now the nobill Myrmydon capitanys
Quakis in armys for feir of the Troianys,
And now Tedeus son Diomedes
Agast is, and Larissyane Achilles;
And Aufidus, the swyft flowand ryver,
Rynnys contyrmont frawart the sey for feir.
And quhill alsso this ilk schrewit wight,
That is controvar of mony wykkyt slycht,
Feneis hym fleyt or abasyt tobe,
That he dar not chide furth incontrar me,
Than with hys dreid and sle controvit feir
My cryme aggregis he on hys maner.
Desist, Drances, be not abasyt, I pray,
For thou sal neuer loss, schortly I the say,
By my wapyn nor this rycht hand of myne,
Sik ane pevych and catyve saule as thyne:
Nay, lat it duell with the, as best may gane,
Within that wrachit corps, and thar remane.
Now, O thou gret fader and prynce souerane,
To the and thy consale I turn agane.
Gyf thou list no thyng trasting nor affy
Into our armys nor our chevalry,
Gyf that we be of help all desolate,
And haill at vnder into this last debait,
Distroyt for ay, and na help may mak,
For that our ost was anys drevyn abak,
And forton hess na return ne regress;
Lat ws beseik for paix at sik distress,
Mak hym request to rew apon our harmys,
And reke hym furth our ryght hand bair of armys.
Quhou beit, O, wald God in this extreme neid
That ony thyng of curage or manheid
Remanyt, as was wont with ws tobe!
Abufe the laif thame worthy thinkis me,
Maist fortunat in fatys marcyall,
And excellent in hie curage our all,
Quhilk wilfully, as that thame selvyn wald,
At thai ne suldyn sik myscheif behald,
Fell ded to grond by fatale happy werd,
And with thar mowth anys bait the erd.
Bot gif we haue rychess and moblys seir,
And nevir assayt it fresch ong power,
And, in our helpyng, of Italianys
Citeis and pepillys habundis and remanys,
Or gif that also to the Troiane syde,
With effusioun of blude and wondis wyde,
This victory betyd is (trastis me,
Thai haue als feill ded corpsis as haue we,
Gyf this tempestuus trake of the batale
On baith the halfis is all owt equale),
Quhy faile we so schaymfully our mycht
Into the first entre of the fycht?
Quhy quakis thus our membris vp and dovn,
Befor the bludy blast and trumpis sovn?
For tyme, feill syss, and eik the variant chance
Of our onstabill lyfe hung in ballance,
Reducit hess full mony onlykly thyng
To bettir fyne
than was thar begynnyng;
And fortoun interchangabill with blenkis quent
Full mony ane dissauyt hess and schent,
Syne efter in a thraw, this weill I wait,
Restoryt thame agane to thar ferm stait.
I put the cace, set the Etholianys,
With Dyomed and the pepill Arpanys,
Lyst not cum in our helpyng nor suple;
it than the bald Mesapus weill wylbe,
And the happy Tolumnyus alsso,
With all tha other dukis mony mo
That fra so feill pepillys beyn hydder sent:
And na litill renown, be myne entent,
Followys the chosyn folkis of Italy,
Nor thame that duellis in Lawrent feildis heirby.
Haue we not eik the stalwart Camylla,
Of the famyll and kynrent of Volsca,
Ledand thir armyt ostis and stern feildis,
In byrnyst plait arrayt and schynand scheldis?
Bot gyf the Troiane pepill, euery ane,
Desyris me to feght in feild allane,
Gif that be plesand onto the, schir kyng,
And I sa far, efter Drances menyng,
Gaynstandis the common weill; into that cace,
That schame sal nevir betyd me in na place,
For victory me hatis not, dar I say,
Nor lyst syk wyss withdraw thir handis twa,
That I refuss suld to assay ony thyng
Quhilk mycht sa gret beleif of weil inbryng.
With stowt curage agane hym wend I will,
Thocht he in prowes pass the gret Achill,
Or set in cace sik armour he weris as he,
Wrocht by the handis of God Vlcanus sle.
To ou, and Kyng Latyn my fader in law,
I Turnus heir, quham full weill e knaw
No thyng behynd, nor tobe reput less,
To nane of all our eldris in prowes,
This saul and life, the quhilk sa weil I lufe,
Doith promyss and awowis for our behufe.
Thai say, allon me challancis Ene;
And I beseik gret God he challance me:
Ne byd I not that Drances deir aby
Ocht with hys deth, quhar that apposit am I;
Nor, quhidder this turn to goddis wrethfull wraik,
Or hardyment and honour, we ondertake,
Na thing at all tharof salbe his part —
The chans is myne, I will it not astart.”
Duryng this disputatioun, as is said,
Enee hys ost abowt the town hass laid.
Quhill thai thus at gret altricatioun wer
Amangis thame self in dowtsum thingis seir,
Eneas all his ost and haill army
Hess rasyt, trumpyng to the town in hy.
A messynger com ruschand in with haist,
Amyd the rowtis ran as he war chaist,
That with huge rumour and a feirfull dyn
Fillit onon the kyngis riall in,
And with gret dreid the cite stuffit alquhar;
Schawand quhou that thar fays cummyn war
