by Virgil
Quhill that he followit the Troianys in the chaiss,
That gaue the bak, as we haue said or this;
Bot alsfast as it twichit and matchit is
By dyvyn armour maid by god Wlcan,
And tharon smyttyn in al Turnus mayn,
This ontrew temperit blaid and fykkill brand,
That forgit was bot with a mortal band,
In flendris flaw, and at the first clap,
As brukkill ice, in litill pecis lap,
Quhill the small partis of the blaid brokin in twa
As glass gletand apon the dun sand lay.
Quharfor this Turnus, half myndless and brane,
Socht diuerss wentis to fle throu owt the plane;
With mony wyndis and turnys, all on flocht,
Now heir, syne thar, onsovirly he socht.
Troianys stude thik bylappit inveroun
In maner of a conpass or a crovn;
And on the ta half eik a laik braid
Hym so inclusyt that he mycht nocht evaid,
And on the tother syde fermyt als was he
With the hie wallys of the cheif cyte.
And thocht the wond tareis Ene sum deill,
Wrocht to hym by the takill with hed of steill,
To weild hys kne maid sum impediment,
That he mycht nocht braid swiftly our the bent,
With na less press and haist it, nocht for thy,
He, fute for fut, persewys him fervently.
Lyke as, sum tyme, quhen that the huntar stowt
Betrappit hass and ombeset about
With hys ralys and with hys hundis gude,
The mekill hart swymmand amyd the flude,
Quhilk thar inclusit neidlingis mon abyd;
For he may not eschape on nother syd,
For feir of hundis, and that awfull bern
Baryng schaftis fedderit with plumys of the ern;
The rynnyng hund dois hym assail in threte
Baith with swift rayss and with hys questis grete;
Bot this hart, all abasyt of thar slycht,
And of the strait and stay bankis gret hycht,
Can fle and eik return a thousand ways;
Bot than the swypir Tuscan hund assays
And nerys fast, ay reddy hym to hynt,
Now, now, almaste lyke, or euer he stynt,
He suld hym hynt, and, as the beste war tak,
With hys wyd chaftis at hym makis a snak,
The byt oft faleis for ocht he do mycht,
And chakkis waist togiddir hys wapynnys wycht —
Right so, at this tyme, apon athir syde
The clamour rayss, that all the laik wyde
And brays abowt thame answerd, so thai ferd,
The hevyn our all eik rumlyt of ther rerd.
And Turnus, fleand, sammyn fast can call
Rutilianys, chidand baith ane and all,
Every man clepand by hys proper name,
To reke hym hys trast swerd for schame;
And by the contrar, awfully Ene
Can thame mannans, that nane sa bald suldbe,
And schew present the deth all reddy heir
To thar ondoyng, gif that ony drew neir,
And quakyng for affeir maid thame agast,
Schorand the cite to distroy and doun cast,
Gif ony help or supple to hym schew,
And, thocht he sair was, fersly dyd persew.
Thus fyve tymys round intill a rayss
About the feild can thai fle and chaiss,
And alss feill syss went turnyng heir and thar,
Lyke as befor the hund wiskis the hair.
And na wondir, for sa the mater lyis,
To na bowrdyng twichit thar interpryss,
Na for small wagis thai debait and stryfe,
Bot apon Turnus blude schedding and lyfe.
On cace, amyd this feild had grow of lait
Ane wild olyve to Fawnus consecrait,
Quharon grew bittyr levys, and mony heris
Was hald in wirschip with all maryneris;
At the quhilk tre, quhen thai eschapit had
The stormys blast, and wallis maid thame rad,
Tharon thar offerandis wald affix and hyng
Onto this god vmquhile of Lawrent kyng,
And tharon eik the clathis bekend vpstent.
Bot tho the stok of this tre doun was rent
By the Troianys, mysknawand it hallowit was,
To that entent to plane the batale place.
Eneas byg lance or hys castyng speir
Percayss apon the poynt was stykand heir;
Thiddir this schaft the gret fors of his cast
Had thraw the ilk stund, and thar fixit fast,
Amang the grippill rutis fast haldand,
Weggit full law the lance on end dyd stand.
The Troiane prynce it grippis in that sted,
Willyng in hand to pull owt the steill hed,
With cast tharof to follow hym at the bak,
Quham he throw speid of fut mycht nocht ourtak.
Bot than Turnus, half mangit in effray,
Cryis: “O thou Fawnus, help, help, I the pray!
And thou Tellus, mast nobill god of erd,
Hald fast the speris hed by our werd;
As I that evir hass wirschipit on thir planys
our honour, that be the contrar Eneadanys
Hess violet and prophanyt be stryfe,” quod he,
“With blude scheddyng, and down hewyn our tre.”
Thus said he, and no thyng invane, I wyss,
The goddys help he axit, for, at hys wyss,
A full lang tyme wrelis and tareis Ene
Furth of the teuch rutis of this ilk tre
Hys speir to draw, and bytis on his lip;
Bot festynnyt sa is in the war the gryp,
That by na maner forss, thocht he was wight,
Furth of the stok the schaft vp pull he mycht.
And as he brymly thus inforcis fast
To draw the speir, this goddess at the last,
I meyn Iuturna, douchter of Dawnus kyng,
Owt throu the feld com rynnand in a lyng,
Changit agane, as that befor scho was,
Into Metiscus semlant and lyknes,
And to hir brother hess hys swerd betauch;
Quhar at Dame Venus gret disdene caucht,
Sik thyng suldbe tholit this bald nymphe to do;
Than suddanly to the speir rakis scho,
Baith schaft and hed onon, or evir scho stent,
At the first pull from the deip rute hess rent.
Than athir restit and refreschit weill
Baith in curage and scharp wapynnys of steill,
He trastand in hys swerd that weill wald scheir,
And he full prowd and stern of hys byg sper.
Incontrar otheris baldly lang thai stand
In marciall batale athir resistand,
Ilkane full wilfull otheris till ourthraw,
At sic debait that baith thai pant and blaw.
Quhou Iupiter and Iuno dyd contend
Eneas stryfe and Turnus fortill end.
The fader almychty of the hevyn abuf,
In the meyn tyme, onto Iuno his lufe,
Quhilk tho down from a watry allow clowd
Beheld the bargane therof na thing prowd,
Thus spak and said: “O my deir spouss, quhat now?
Quhat end salbe of this mater, or quhou?
Quhat restis finaly now at all lat se.
Thou wait thi self, and grantis thou wait, Enee
Is destinat onto the hevin to cum,
And fortobe clepit with all and sum
Amang the goddis a god indigites,
And by the fatis forto rest in pess,
Sesit abuf the starry skyis hie.
Quhat purposis or etlys thou now lat se,
Or into quhat beleif, or quhat entent,
Hyngis thou swa in the cald firmament?
Was it honest a god
ly dyvyn wight
With ony mortal strake to wond in fight?
Or it ganand, the swerd lost and adew,
To rendir Turnus, lo, hys brand of new,
And strenth encresss to thame at venquist be?
For quhat avalit Iuturna, but thy supple?
Desist heirof, now at last, be the lest,
And condiscend to bow at our request;
Ne suffir not thy hyd sorrow, I pray,
Na langar the consume and waist away,
That I na mar sik wofull thochtis se
Schyne nor appeir in thy sweit face,” quod he,
“For now is cum the extreme lattir punct.
Thou mycht, quhil now, haue catchit at disiunct
The silly Troianys baith be sey and land;
And eik thou mycht alsso at thyne awin hand
A fell ontelabill batal rayss or weir,
Deform the howshald, and bryng all on steir
Be mony diuerss ways of fury rage,
And all with murnyng mixt thar mariage:
Bot I forbyd ou ony mar sic thing.”
Thus spak and carpis love, gret hevynnys kyng.
Saturnus dochtir, Iuno the goddess,
Ansuerit on this wyss, castand doun hir face:
“O Iupiter, deir lord, certis,” said sche,
“Becauss this thy gret will was knawyn to me,
On forss tharfor, and incontrar my mynd,
I left the erd and my frend Turnus kynd.
Ne, war not that, suld thou me se allon
Thus sittand in the ayr al wobegon,
Sustenand thus al maner of myscheif,
And euery stress, baith lesum and onleif;
Bot at I suld, gyrthit with flambis red,
Stowtly haue standyn in on batale sted,
And suld haue drawyn on Troianys, ane and all,
Into fell mortal bargane inimicall.
I grant, I dyd persuading owt of dreid
Iuturna to pass doun at sik neid
To hir brothir, and for his lyfe eik I
Approvis weill, and als dois ratify,
To vndertak mair than to hir pertenyt;
Bot I forsuith persuadit neuer, nor menyt,
That scho suld dartis cast, or takillis draw,
Nor with the bow mak debait ony thraw:
I swer tharto be the onplesand well
Of Stix, the flud and cheif fontan of hell,
Quhais only dreidfull superstitioun heir
The goddis kepis, that nane dar it forswer.
And now, forsuith, thy will obey sall I,
And giffis owr the causs perpetualy,
And heir I leif sik werys and debait,
The quhilk, certis, I now detest and hait.
Bot for the land of Latium or Itaill,
And for maieste of thine awin blude, sans faill,
A thing I the beseik, quhilk, weill I wait, is
Na wyss include in statutis of the fatis:
That is to knaw, quhen that, as weill mot be,
With happy wedlok and felicite
on pepillis twane sall knyt vp peax for ay,
Bynd confiderans baith coniunct in a lay,
That thou ne wald the ald inhabitantis
Byd change thar Latyn name nor natyve landis,
Ne charge thame nother tobe callit Troianys,
Nor it be clepit Phrigianys nor Tewcranys,
Ne it the Latyn pepill thar leid to change,
Nor turn thar clething in other habyt strange.
Lat it remane Latium, as it was air,
And lat the kyngis be namyt euermar
Pryncis and faderis of the stile Albane;
The lynage eik and gret ofspring Romane
Mot discend tharfra potent and mychty,
Vndir the virtuus titill of Italy.
Troy is doun bet — doun bet lat it remane,
With name and all, and neuer vpryss agane.”
Than gan to smyle Iupiter the gret kyng,
That is producear of men and euery thing:
“Syster german,” quod he, “to Iove art thou,
And secund child to Saturn ald; ha, quhou
Sa gret a storm or spait of felloun ire
Vndir thy breist thou rollis hait as fyre?
Bot wirk as I the byd, and do away
That wreth consauyt but ony causs, I pray.
I geif and grantis the thi desyre,” quod he,
“Of fre will, venquyst, referris me to the.
Thir ilk pepill clepit Ausonyanys,
On other wyss callit Italianys,
The auld vsans and leyd of thar cuntre
Sall bruke and ioys, and eik thar name salbe
As it is now, and as thar stile remanys:
Alanerly thar personys the Troianys
Sall entyr myddill and remane thame amang:
The fassonys and the ritis, that nocht ga wrang,
Of sacrifice to thame statute I sall,
And Latyn pepill of a tung mak thame all.
The kynd of men discend from thir Troianys,
Mydlit with kyn of the Italianys,
Thou sal behald in piete and gentilness
To go abufe baith men and goddis express;
Nor neuer clan or other nation by
Lyke thame sall hallow, ne it sanctify
Thy wirschip, eik and honour, as thai sal do.”
Iuno annerdit, and gaue consent heirto,
Ful blith and ioyus of this grant, perfay,
Fra hir ald wraith hess writhit hir mynd away;
And in the meyn tyme onto the hevyn hir drew,
And left the clovd, and bad Turnus adew.
Thys beand done, as said is, on sik wyss,
This hie fader can with hym self devyss
Ane other craft, and providis the way
Quhou that he sal Iuturna dryfe away
From helpyng of hir brother intill armys.
Thar beyn twa vengeabill monstreis full of harmys,
Clepit to surname Dire, wikkit as fyre,
That is to say, the goddis wraik or ire,
Quhilk myschewoss and cruell sisteris twa,
Sammyn with the hellys fury Megera,
The Nycht thar moder, that barntyme miserabill,
Bair at a birth, for na thing profitabill;
And all elike wymplit and cled thir trakis
With eddris thrawin, and harys full of snakis,
And tharto ekit weyngis swift as wynd.
Thir wikkit schrewys reddy sal e fynd
Befor the troyn of Iove, and eik also
Within the wanys of cruell Kyng Pluto.
Thai scharp the dreid to mortale wrachit wightis,
Quhen euer the kyng of goddis by his mychtis
The deth, or the contagius seikness seir,
Disponys hym to send in the erth heir,
Or quhen that hym list do smyte and affray
Citeis with weirfar, as deservit haue thai.
Iove ane of thir, full swipper to discend,
Furth of the hevin abuf onon hess send,
And bad hir hald doun baldly to the erd,
Forto resist Iuturnais ire and werd.
And scho onon doun flaw, to pless the lard,
And to the grund thuddis with hasty fard.
Nane other wyss than from the stryng doith fle
The swift arrow owt throw the ayr we se,
Or, into bittyr vennom wet, sum flane
Castyn or schot by sum archer Persayn,
By sum Persayn or man of Cydony
The schaft thrawyn, that quhyrris throu the sky,
And, quhar it hyttis, wyrkis a wond of pyne,
Oncurabill by the craft of medycyne,
And sa swiftly slydis throu the clowdis gray
That quhar it went nane may persave the way —
On sik maner the nyghtis douchtir onflocht
Throw the skyis doun to the erth sone socht;
And efter that scho saw the Troian ostis,
And Turnus
rowtis arrayt on the costis,
Scho hir transformyt in lyknes of a fowle,
Quhilk we a litil howlet cleip, or owle,
That sum tyme into gravis, or stokkis of tre,
Or on the waist thak, or howss rufis hie,
Sittand by nycht syngis a sorowfull toyn
In the dyrk skowgis, with scrykis inoportoyn.
This vengeabill wraik, in sik form changit thus,
Evyn in the face and vissage of Turnus
Can fle and flaf, and maid hym forto grow,
Scho soundis so with mony hyss and how,
And in hys scheild can with hyr weyngis smyte.
A new dolfnes dissoluyt hys membris tyte;
For verray dreid and for gret horrour als
Vp stert hys hair, the voce stak in hys hals.
Bot as Iuturna soyn on far dyd heir
Of this fury the quhislyng and the beir,
The swouchyng of hir weyngis and hir flycht,
This woful sister hyr hair rent for that sycht,
With nalys ryvand reuthfully hir face,
And smytand with hir nevis hir breist, allace!
“Turnus, my best belovit brother,” quod sche,
“Quhat may thy sistir help now, wa is me!
Or quhat now restis to me, wrachit wight?
Thy life prolong quhou may I? Be quhat slycht
May I oppone me to resist or stryve
With sik a monstre? Na, nane wight alyve.
Now, now, I leif the feild, and goys away.
O e myschewoss fowlis, I ou pray,
Do me na mair agryss trymland for feir;
The clappyng of our weyngis I knaw and heir,
And eik the dedly sovndis weill onfar.
The provd command of myghty Iupiter,
That gydis al thing by hys maieste,
Dois me not now astart, for I it se.
Is this the ganeld that he rendris me
In recompens of my virginite?
Quharto eternal lyfe hess he me geif?
Quharto suld I on this wyss euer leif?
Quharto is me byreft the faculte
Of deth, and grantit immortalite?
For, gif I mortal war, now, now suythly,
Thir sa gret dolouris mycht I end inhy,
And with my reuthfull brother go withall
Amangis the dym schaddoys infernall.
O deir brother german, without the
Is na thing sweit nor plesand onto me.
O now quhat grund, land or erd tewch
Sal swelly me tharin half deip enewch,
And, thocht I beyn a goddess, doun me draw,
And send ontil infernal wightis law?”
Thus mekil said scho, and tharwith bad adew,
Hir hed valit with a haw claith or blew,
And murnand gretly thar as that scho stud,
This goddes dowkit deip vnder the flud.
At Eneas Turnus a stane dyd cast,
Bot Eneas hass slane hym at the last.
Ene with this instantly list not cess
