by Virgil
With mekill dyn and bemyng in that innys,
Scharpand thar stangis for ire, as thai wald fycht —
Swa heir the laithly odor raiss on hycht
From the fyre blesis, dyrk as ony roik,
That to the ruffis toppys went the smoik;
The stanys warpit in fast dyd rebund,
Within the wallis rayss gret bruyt and sound,
And vp the reik all void went in the air,
Quhar as na tenementis stud nor howsis war.
Betyd alsso to thir wery Latynys,
Quhilk so irkit at sik myscheif and pyne is,
Ane chance of mysfortoun, that all the tovn
With womentyng straik to the boddum doun.
For as the queyn Amata saw syk wyss
The cyte ombeset with ennymyss,
The wallys kyndlyt be with flambys heit,
The fyre blesis abuf the ruffis gleyt,
Na Turnus army cumand thame aganys,
Nor it nan ostis of Rutilianys;
Scho, full onhappy, in the batell sted
Wenyt ong Turnus feghtand had bene ded;
And tho for verray sorow suddanly,
Hyr mynd trublit, gan to rame and cry,
Scho was the causs and wyte of all this greif,
Baith crop and ruyte and hed of sik myscheif;
And in hir dolorus fury thus myndless,
All enragit for duyll tho dyd express
Full mony a thyng, and reddy to de with all
Rent with hir handis hyr purpour weid ryall,
And at ane hie balk teyt vp scho hass
With a lowp knot a stark cord or a lass,
Quharwith hir self scho spilt by schamefull ded.
And fra the Latyn matronys, will of red,
Persavit hess this vile myschewoss wraik,
Thai rent thar hair, with, “Harrow,” and, “Allaik!”
Hyr douchter first besyde the ded corps standis,
Ryvand hyr gyltyn tressys with hir handis,
Hyr rosy chekis to tor and scartis sche;
Than all the laif, that piete was to se,
Of ladeis that about the ded corps stud,
Rentis and ruggis thame self as thai war wod,
That of thar gowlyng, greting and deray
The large hald resundis a far way,
Quhill from the kyngis palyce inveroin
Dywlgat went and spred our all the tovne
The fey onhappy fame of sik a deid;
Than euery wight tynt hart for wo and dreid.
With habyt rent Kyng Latyn on the gait
Walkis wobegone, astonyst of the fait
Of hys deir spouss, and of the cite syne,
That semyt brocht onto fynall ruyne:
Hys cannos hair, sair movit in hys entent,
With onclene puldyr has he all bysprent,
And mony tymys hym selvyn hess accusyt,
That he sa lang had lachit and reffusyt
To ressaue glaidly the Troiane Ene;
Repentyng sair, for weill of the cyte,
That he had nocht requirit hym, and draw
Or than tobe his mawche and son in law.
The quenys decess fra Turnus cleirly wist,
Went to the sege Eneas to resist.
In the meyn tyme, as weriour vnder scheild,
Turnus ond at the far part of the feld
A few mene persewand our the plane,
Quhilk at the stragill fled in all thar mayn,
Sum deill or than walxis dolf this syre,
Seand his horssis begyn to sowpe and tyre;
That euer the less and less ioyus was he
Of thar renkis and gait throu the melle.
Tharwith the wynd and sowchquhyng of the air
This feirfull clamour brocht to hym rycht thar,
Mixt with oncertane terrour and affeir;
The confusioun of sovnd smait in his eyr,
Com from the cyte, of fellon murmuryng,
Rycht onglaid bruyt of cayr and womentyng.
“Ha, ways me!” he said, “quhat may this be?
Quhou beyn the wallys trublit of this cite
With so gret duyll and sorrow as I heir?
Or quhou thus ruschis so fellon noyss and beir
And clamour from the tovn at euery part?”
Thus hass he said, and can do stynt his cart,
And all enragit tyt the reneis abak;
Quhamto his sistir tho Iuturna spak
(As scho that was turnyt, as I said air,
In semlant of Metiscus the cartar,
That horssis, reneis, sydrapis and cart dyd sche
Rewle and direct amydwart the melle),
With sic wordis scho ansueris hym fute hait:
“Turnus, lat ws persew Troianys this gait,
Quhar victory ws schawis the reddy way;
Thar beyn enew otheris, be my fay,
Forto defend and weill manteym the tovn.
on is Eneas makis the brute and sovn,
That can invaid Italianys, as e heir,
Mydlit in batale on sik feir of weir.
Tharfor lat ws with cruell hand in this sted
Lay als feill corpsis of the Troianys ded;
For with na less numbir slane vnder scheild,
Nor less honour, sall thou wend of the feild.”
Turnus answeris: “O thou my sistyr deir,
I knew full weill at it was thou, langer,
That be thi craft and quent wylis sa sle
Our confideratioun trublit and trete,
And entrit in this batell quhilk thou wrocht:
And now, goddes, thy wylis ar all for nocht.
Bot quha was that send the from hevyn so scheyn,
So huge sturt and travell to susteyn?
Quhidder gif thou com to that entent to se
The cruell deth of thy fey brother?” said he.
“Quhat sall I do, lat se, quhar sall I now?
Or quhat succurss promittis fortoun, and quhou?
I saw my self befor myn eyn langeir
Gret Murranus, quham nane mair leif and deir
Onto me was that levand is this day,
Swelt on the grund, and with lowd voce, perfay,
On me dyd call, quhar as he lay onsound
At erth discomfyt with ane grisly wond:
And lo, doun bet and slane in hys defens
Is not alsso the stowt capitane Vfens,
That he suld not our lak and schame behald?
Hys corps and armour doys Troianys baith withhald.
Sall I als suffir thame doun the cyte dyng?
Of our myscheif thar restis bot that a thing.
Nor sall I not with this rycht hand inhy
Confund Schir Drancis langage onworthy?
Sall evir this grund behald or se sik lak,
That I sall fle, or Turnus gif the bak?
Is it all owt sa wrachit thing to de,
That, or thai stervyn, men suld rathar fle?
he Manes, clepit goddis infernal,
Beis to me frendly now, sen that all
The goddis myndis abuf ar me contrar;
Be he benevolent quhen that I cum thar.
Ane haly saule to ou discend sall I,
Saikless of all sic cryme or villany,
Na wyss onworthy namyt fortobe
With my eldris and forfaderis mast hie.”
Scars hess he said, quhen, lo, throu the plane
Ruschand amyd hys fays, com hym agane
Ane Sages, montit on a fomy steid
(And he was wondit sair, and gan to bleid,
In the face with ane arrow vnder the e),
Cryand, “Help, Turnus, be his name, quhar is he?
Turnus,” quod he, “in the and thy twa handis
The extreme help and lattir weilfar standis:
Haue reuth and piete of thyne awin mene.
Now, as the thundris blast, faris Enee
In bargane, so enragit he doith mannayss
The cheif cyte
of Italy doun to arrayss,
And into fynal ruyne to bet doun
The principall palyce and all the ryall tovn;
And now onto the thak and ruffis hie
The flambys and the fyre blesys doys fle.
In the thar wltys, in the thar eyn, but faill,
The Latyn pepill dressyt hess alhaill:
The kyng hym self Latinus, the gret heir,
Quhispyris and musys, and is in maner feir
Quham he sal cheiss or call, into this thraw,
Tobe hys douchteris spouss, and son in law,
Or to quhat frendschip or allyans fyne
Is best hym selwyn at this tyme inclyne.
And forthirmor, Amata the fair queyn,
Quhilk at all tymys thyne afald frend hass bene,
With hir awyn hand doith sterve, now liggand law,
And for affray hir self hess brocht of daw.
Only Mesapus and Atynas keyn
At the portis doys the stour susteyn:
Abowt thir twa on athir syde thik standis,
Arrayt rowtis, with drawyn swerdis in handis,
Full horribill and austern athir barnage,
Cled in steill weid with wapynnys, man and page;
And thou, thus rollyng furth thy cart bedene,
Walkis at avantage on the void grene.”
Turnus astonyst stude dum in studeyng,
Smyt with the ymage of mony diuerss thyng:
Deip in hys hart boldynnys the felloun schame,
All mixt with dolour, angyr and defame;
Syne fervent luf hym catchit in fury rage,
And hys bykend hardyment and curage.
As first the schaddois of pertrublans
Was dryve away, and hys rememberans
The lycht of resson hass recoverit agane,
The byrnand sycht of baith his eyn twane,
Sor aggrevit, towart the wallis he kest,
And from hys cart blent to the cyte prest.
Bot lo, a sworll of fyre blesys vpthraw!
Lemand towart the lyft the flambe he saw,
Amang the plankis and the loftis schire
Stremand and kyndland fast the hoyt fyre,
That caucht was in a mekill towr of tre,
Quhilk towr of sillys and gestis gret belt he,
And thar vnder, to roll it, quhelis set,
With staris hie and batelling weirly bet.
“Now, now, systir,” quod he, “lo, all and sum
The fatis hass vss venquyst and ourcum:
Desist tharfor to mak me langar tary;
Lat ws follow that way, and thiddir cary,
Quhar God and this hard fortoun callys me.
Now standis the poynt, I am determyt,” quod he,
“Eneas hand for hand fortill assaill;
Now standis the poynt, to suffir in bataill
The bittir ded and all paynfull distress.
Na langar, sistir germane, as I gess,
Sall thou me se schamefull onworthy wight.
Bot, I beseik the, manly as a knycht
Into this fervent furour suffir me
To go enragit to batale, or I de.”
Thus hass he said, and from the cart inhy
Apon the land he lap deliuerly,
And left his sistir trist and dissolate;
Thrist throu hys fays and wapynnys all, fute hait,
And with sa swift fard schot throu the melle
That the myd rowtis and wardis schuddris he.
And like as the gret roch crag with a sovn
From the top of sum montan tumlyt doun,
Quhen at it is our smyt with wyndis blast,
Or with the drumly schowris spait doun cast,
Or than be lang process of mony heris
Lowsyng tharfra the erd, and away weris,
Is maid to fall and tumbill with all his swecht,
Lyke till a wikkit hill of huge weght,
Halding his fard the discens of the bra
With mony skyp and stend baith to and fra,
Quhill that he schut far on the plane grund,
And all that he ourrekis doith confund;
Woddis, heyrdis, flokkis, catale and men
Our welterand with hym in the deip glen —
Towart the wallys Turnus ruschit als fast
Throw owt the rowtis, by hys fard doun cast,
Quhar tho the grund wet and bedyit stude
A weill far way with effusioun of blude,
And large on breid the skyis and the ayr
For schaftis schot dyd quhissilling heir and thar:
A bekyn with hys hand to thame maid he,
And sammyn eik with lowd voce cryis: “Lat be!
Stynt, e Rutilianys, se he feght na mair,
And, he Latynys, our dartys castyng spar;
Quhou evir the forton standis at this tyde,
The chance is myne, the fait I mon abyde.
It is mair iust and equale I allane
For ou sustene the payn was ondertane,
And purge the cryme, so happynnyt now of lait,
Of this confideratioun violate:
Lat me stand to my chans, I tak on hand
Forto derene the mater with this brand.”
Than euery man amydward thame betwene
Can draw abak, and maid rovm on the greyn.
Eneas feghtis and Turnus, hand for hand,
And Turnus fled, for he had brokkyn his brand.
Thys fader than, this gret prynce Ene,
Herand the name of Turnus cryit on hie,
The wallys left, and fra the tovn went away
Richt hastely, secludand all delay;
Styntis all the wark that he begunnyn had,
And hoppit vp for ioy, he was so glaid;
The huslyng in his armour dyd rebund,
And kest a terribill or a feirfull sound.
Vpraxit hym he hess amyd the place,
Als byg as Athon, the hie mont in Trace,
Or heich as mont Erix in Scycily,
Or than the fader of hillys in Italy,
Clepyt mont Apennynus, quhen that he
Doith swouch or bray with roky quhynnys hie,
And ioys to streik hys snawy top on hycht
Vp in the ayr amang the skyis brycht —
That is to say, amang all other wightis
Eneas semyt to surmontyn in hyghtis
The remanent of all the mekill rowt,
As thir montanys excedis the knollys abowt.
And than, forsuyth, Rutilianys egyrly,
And all the Troian ostis or army,
Towart thar dukis dyd return thar eyn;
The Rutilianys, I say, and eik bedeyn
All the Latynys that on the wallys stud,
And all thai als tofor as thai war woid
The barmkyn law smait with the rammys fast,
Now of thar schuldris can thar armour cast.
The kyng hym self, Latyn, abasyt to se
Twa men sa byg of huge quantite,
Generit and bred in realmys far insundir
Of seir partis of the warld, that it was wondir
Twa of sik statur, onmysurly of hycht,
Fortill assembill sammyn into fyght,
Or forto se thame, matchit on the greyn,
Dereyn the bargane with thar wapynnys keyn.
And than athir thir campionys vndir scheild,
Quhen voydit weill and rowmyt was the feild
That patent was the plane a weil large space,
With hasty fard on far hess tane thar rayss,
And can thar speris cast, or thai cum neir,
Quhil scheildis soundit and all thar other geir;
Ane marcial batale thai begyn, but baid,
And athir sternly dyd hys fa invaid.
So dyd the strakis dyn on thar steill weid,
The erd granys and dyndlys far onbreid,
Syne raschit togidder with swerdis, or euer thai stynt,
And rowtis thik thai doublit, dynt for dynt
;
With fors of prowess and fatale aventur
Mydlit sammyn the bargane thai endur.
Lyke as twa bustuus bullys by and by,
On the hie month Taburn in Champany,
Or in the mekill forest of Syla,
Quhen thai assembill in austern bargane thra,
With front to front, and horn for horn, attanys
Ruschand togiddir with cronys and feirfull granys,
That fe masteris and hyrdmen, euery wight
Abasyt gevys thame place, so brym tha fight;
For feir the bestis dum all standis by,
And all in dowt squelys the ong ky,
Quha salbe master of the catal all,
Or quhilk of thame the bowys follow sall;
Thai twa bullys, thus stryvand in that stond,
By mekill forss wyrkis other mony a wond,
And duschand festynnys fast thar hornys stowt,
Quhill that abundans of blude stremys owt,
That can do wesch, bedy, or all to baith,
Thar grym nekkis and thar spaldis baith;
That of thar rowstyng all the large plane
And woddis rank rowtis and lowys agane —
Nane other wyss Ene, the Troian heir,
And Dawnus son, Turnus, sammyn infeir
Hurlys togiddir with thar scheildis strang,
That for gret raschis all the hevynnys rang.
Thus Iupiter hym self hess atheris chance
A weill lang space to hungyn in ballance
Be equale myssour, and pasyt hess alsso
The fatis diuerss of thame baith two;
Quham the stowt laubour suld deliuer fre,
And quham the pasand wecht ourwelt to de.
Turnus at this tyme walxis bald and blyth,
Wenyng to caucht a stound hys strenth to kyth
But ony danger or aduersyte;
He raxis hym, and hevis vp on hie
Hys bludy sword, and smait in al hys mayn.
A gret clamour gave the pepill Troian,
And eik the Latynys quakyng gaue a schowt,
Full prest thame tobehald stud athir rowt.
Bot this ontraste fals blaid is brokyn in sundyr,
And ardent Turnus brocht hess in gret blundir;
For it amyddis of hys dynt hym falys,
And dissolet hym left, that nocht avalys
To hym hys strenth, hardyment and mycht,
Less than he tak for hys defens the flycht:
a, swyftar than the wynd he fled, I gess,
Quhen that he saw hys rycht hand wapynless,
And persauyt the plummet was onknaw.
For so the fame is, at the ilk thraw
Quhen he first ruschit in hys cart inhy,
And gart do ok hys stedis by and by
To go onto the batale the sam day,
That, for the suddand onset and effray,
The cartar Metiscus sword hynt in hand,
And all foret hys faderis nobill brand;
And this ilk swerd was sufficient a lang space,
