The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

CAP. IX

Quhou Dydo queyn, hir purpos to covert,Of enchantment dyd contyrfait the art.Thus quhen Dydo had caucht this frenasy,Ourset with sorow and syk fantasy,And determyt fermly that scho wald de;The tyme quhen, and maner quhou it suld be,Compasyng in hir breist, but mair abaidOnto hir dolorus systir thus scho sayd,Hir purpos by hir vissage dissymuland,Schawand by hir cheir gude hope and glad sembland:Systir germane, quod scho, away ȝour smart;Beys of ȝour systeris weilfar glaid in hart.I haue the way fundyn, quharby ȝone syreSalbe to me rendryt at my desyre,Or me delyvir from hys lufe al fre.Neyr by the end of the gret occiane see,Thar as the son declynys and goys doun,At the far syde of Ethiope regioun,A place thar is, quhar that the huge AtlasOn schuldyr rollys the round speir in cumpas,Full of thir lemand starnys, as we se:Thar dwellys, systir, as it is schaw to me,Ane haly nun, a ful gret prophetes,Born of the pepill of Massylyne, I ges,And wardane of the ryal tempil, thai sa,Set in the gardyngis hecht Hesperida,And to the walkryfe dragon mete gave sche,That kepyt the goldyn apyllis in the tre,Strynkland to hym the wak hunny sweit,And sleipryfe chesbow seyd, to quykkyn his spreit.This woman hechtis, with hir enchantmentis,From luffis bandis to lows al thar ententisQuham so hir lyst, and bynd other sum alssoIn langsum amouris vehement payn and wo:The rynnand fludis thar watir stop kan scho mak,And eik the starnys turn thar cours abak;And on the nycht the ded gastis assemmyll:Vndir thi feyt the erd rayr and trymmyllThou most se, throw hir incantatioun,And from the hillys treys discendyng down.To wytnes the gret goddis draw I heyr,And thy sweit hed, myne awyn systir deir,Agane my wil, ful sayr constrenyt am IArt magyk to excers or sossory.Richt secretly intil our innar clos,Vndir the oppyn sky, to this purposPas on, and of treys thou byg a byngTo be a fyre, and tharapon thou hyngȜon mannys sword, quhilk that wikkyt wightLeft stykand in our chawmyr this hyndir nyght;Hys cote armour, and othir clethyng all,And eik that maist wrachit bed coniugall,Quharin I perychit and wes schent, allace!For so the religyus commandyt has,To omdo and distroy al maner thyngQuhilk may ȝon wareit man to memor bring.This sayd, scho held hir tong; and tharwithallHir vissage wolx als pail as ony wall.Thocht Annes wenyt not hir systir waldGraith sacryfice for hir ded body cald,Nor that syk fury was in hyr breist consavyt;For by na resson dred sche, nor persavytNow mor displesour or harmys apperandThan for Sycheus ded, hir first husband:Quharfor, scho hes hir command done ilk deill.Bot quhen the gret byng was vp beildit weillOf ayk treys and fyrryn schydis dry,Within the secrete clos, vndyr the sky,The place with flowris and garlandis stentis the queyn,And crownys about with funerale bewis greyn:Abuf the mowe the forsaid bed was maid,Quharin the figur of Ene scho layd,Hys clethyng, and hys sword at he had left,Ramembryng weill the thyng that followyt eft.Feill altaris stude about the fyre funerale,And the religyus nun, with hair down skaill,Thre hundreth goddis with hir mouth rowpyt sche;Herebus, the grysly of the deyp hellys see,Chaos, confoundar of Elymentis, alssua,And the thrynfald goddes Proserpina,The thre figuris of the virgyn Dyan.And evir the watir strynklis scho onan,Contyrfait to be of Avernus the well,Quhilk lowch is situat at the mouth of hell:Spryngand herbys eftir the cours of the moynWar socht, and with brasyn hukis cuttit soyn,To get thar mylky sap and vennom blak:Thai seik alsso, and owt gan rent and takThe lump betwix the new born folys eyn,And fra the moder byreft the lufe sa greyn.The queyn hir self fast by the altar standis,Haldand the meldyr in hir devote handis;Hir ta fute bayr, and the bandis of threydNocht festynnyt, bot hung by hyr lowys weyd:And, remembring scho was in poynt to de,The goddis all onto wytnes drew sche,The starnys and planetis, gydaris of fatis,And gif thar ony deite be, that watisOr persavys luffaris inequale of behest,To haue in memor hir just caus and request.

CAP. X

Quhat sorow dreys queyn Dydo all the nycht,And how Mercur bad Ene tak the flycht.The nycht followys, and euery wery wightThrou owt the erth hath caucht, onon rycht,The sownd plesand sleip thame lykit best;Woddis and rageand seys war at rest:As the starnys thar myd cours rollys doun,All feildis still, but othir noys or sown,All beistis and byrdis of diuers cullouris seir,And quhatsumeuer in the braid lochis weir,Or, amang buskis harsk, leyndis vndir the spray,Throu nychtis sylence slepit quhar thai lay;Mesyng thar bissy thocht and curis smart,All irksum laubour forȝet and owt of hart.Bot the onrestles fey spreit dyd not soOf this onhappy Phenyssane Dydo;For neuer mair may scho sleip a wynk,Nor nychtis rest in eyn or breist lat synk:The hevy thochtis multipleis euer on ane:Strang luf begynnys to rage and rys aganeAnd fellon stormys of ire gan hir to schaikThus fynaly scho owt bradis, allaik!Rollyng alane seir thyngis in hir thocht:Ha! quhat do I? quod scho, all is for nocht.Sall I thus mokkit, and to hething dryve,My fyrst luffaris agane assay belyve?Or sal I lawly sum lord NumydanePray and beseik of mariage now agane,Quhom I sa oft lychtlyit to spows or this?Na, wyll I not: quhat? sal I than, I wys,Follow the Troiane navy in strange landis.And reddely obey al thar commandis?I hope it sal profyte, na litill thyng,My gret help done thame and suppowellyng;For amang kynd folkis this is na dreid,Weil is remembrit the ald thankful deid.Bot thocht, in cace, to do this war my will,Quha wald me suffir my purpos to fulfyll,Or in thar prowd schippis me ressaue?Thus drevyn to hethyng, and al thi grace bywave,Tynt woman, allace! baris thou not ȝyt in myndThe maynsweryng of fals Laomedonis kynd?And maratour, quhat ettill I for to do?A Queyn alane to steil away thus, lo!Accumpanyit bot with mery maryneris?Or than with all my Tyrianys, as efferis,And all my power assemblit me about,On schipburd entyr with al that huge rowtQuhilk furth of Sydon scarsly draw I mycht,Sal I thame cach agane our seys lycht?Byd thame mak saill onon, and a new rays?Na, rather de, as thou deservyt has,And with a swerd mak of this duyl ane end.O systir germane, thou me fyrst taucht and kend,Allace the quhile! and offerit me to my fo;Thou with thir harmys ourchargit me alsso,Quhen I fell fyrst into this rage, quod sche,Bot so to do my teris constrenyt the.Was it not lefull, allace! but cumpany,To me but cryme in chawmyr alane to ly,Or led my lyfe lyke to thir beistis wild,And not beyn thus with thocht nor harmys fild?Allace! onkepit is the trew cunnandHecht to Sycheus assys, my first husband.Syk gret complayntis from hir breist bryst kan.Bot Eneas, sovir to depart or than,And al hys neidful thyngis grathit, by and by,Heich in hys eft schyp sownd slepand kan ly;Quhamto in visioun the sam god dyd appeir,In syklyke figur as that he dyd eyr,Onto Mercuryus lyke, in al fasson,Baith cullour of vissage, and of vocis sown,In form of a ȝongker with membris fair,Plesand of cheir, and ȝallow glytterand hair.Hym thocht agane he monyst on this wys:Son of the goddes, quhou is this heir thou lyis?Quhat? may thou vndir sa gret danger sleip,And, al forvayit, takis nothir cuyr nor keypFor to behald quhat perrellys about the standis,Nor harknys the fair wynd blawys of landis?Scho quham thou knawys, within hir breist ful haitSorowfull vengeans compasis and dissait,And certanly determyt for to de,In diuers stowris of ire brandysys sche:Quhy wilt thou not fle spedely be nycht,Quhen forto haist thou hes laser and mycht?Thou salt, onon, behald the seys largeAll ombeset with toppyt schyp and barge,The feirful brandis and blesys of hait fyre,Reddy to byrn thi schippys, lemand schyre,And al the cost belyve of flambys scald,Gyf, quhil to morow, tary in this land thow wald.Haue done, speid hand, and mak na mair delay,Variabill and changeand thyngis beyn wemen ay.And sayand this, into the dyrk nyghtHe gan hym hyde, and vanyst out of sycht.Eneas, of this hasty visioun affrayit,Gan start on fut, and fast his feris assayit:A walk onon, get vp my men in hy,Tyte to ȝour wardis, span aris bissely,Schaik down the salys sone, and lat ws wend.From the hie hevyn the god agane is send,Lo! spurrand ws to haist and fle away,And byddis smyte the twyne cabyll in tway.O blissyt wyght! quhat god at evir thou be,We sal obey thi charge, and follow the,And thy command fulfyll agane blithly;Besekyng the assist to ws frendlyHelp and support, with prospir influensThe hevyn and starris dres our vayage hens.And, with that word, hys scherand sword als tyte,Hynt owt of scheith, the cabil in twa gan smyte.The sam maner of haist caucht al the lave:Thai hurl away, ankyrris vphynt and rave;Left the costis desert on athir sydis;The stabil sey vndir the schippis slydis;The stour of fame vpwelt thai egyrly,And swepis our the haw fludis in hy.

CAP. XI

Quhou queyn Dydo beheld Ene depart,And quhat scho said with harmys at hir hart.Be this Aurora, leifand the purpour bedOf hir lord Titan, heth the erd ourspredWith new days licht: and quhen the queynThe first grekyng of the day hes seyn,And fra hir hie wyndoys gan espy,With bent sail furth caryand, the navy;The costis and the schor al desolateBehaldis eik, but owthir schip or bate;Hir fayr quhite breist, thar as scho dyd stand,Feil tymys smate scho with hir awyn hand,And, ryvand hir bricht haris petuusly,Jupiter, quod scho, sal he depart, ha, fy!And leful tyll a vavengeour strangerMe and my realm betrump on this maner?Sal not my menȝe to harnes ryn in hyOur al the town, and follow bissely?Speid, tak ȝon schippis, on burd fast to the raid,Haist sone, and kast on thame fyre blesis braid,Schute dartis thik, and qwel thame with ȝour glavys.Quhat said I? or quhar am I? now thou ravys;Quhat wodnes, fey Dydo, movis thi mynd?Now art thou hyt with frawart werdis onkynd?Sa til haue done than had bene mair ganandQuhen thou hym gave the ceptour of thi land.Ha! now behald hys gret prowes, quod sche,Hys reuthful piete, and faith! is not ȝon he,Quham, as thai say, the goddis of hys landIn hys navy careis our sey and sand?Is not ȝon he, quhom on his schulderis, thai say,For reuth his agit fader bair away?Mycht I not caucht and rent in pecis his cors,Syne swak the gobbettis in the sey by forsOf hym and all hys fallowys? weill I mocht:And eik ȝone sam Ascanyus mycht I nochtHaue trynschit with a sword, and maid a meysTo his fader tharof to eyt at deys?Forsuyth, in cace the aventur of bataillHad beyn doutsum; wald God it war assaill!Quham sall I dreid, now reddy for to de?Wald God I mycht, in ȝon navy I se,The hait fyre brandis set, and euery boyrFyll all with flambys red, and forthirmorBaith fader and son, with hail generacioun,That I had brynt, distroyit, and bryttynyt doun,And thame abuf syne ded my self had laid!O thou brycht son, that, with thi bemys glayd,All erdly laubour clengis, circuland about;And thou Juno, mediatrix, but dout,Of al thir hevy thochtis, and weill thame knawis;And thou Proserpyne, quhilk, by our gentile lawys,Art rowpit hie, and ȝellyt lowd by nyght,In forkyt ways, with mony mudy wight;And ȝe infernale fureys, that wrekis al wrang;And ȝe goddis eik, quham now amangDido standis reddy to cum in poynt to de;Ressaue thir wordis quhilkis I sal say, quod sche,Withdraw fra hyne ȝour gret mychtis, quharbySchrewis awcht be punyst for thar cryme, and not I;And thir our prayeris accept, we ȝou beseik.Gyf it be necessar, and determyt eik,Ȝon wikkit hed in portis of ItaleTo entir and cum, or to thai boundis saill;And gyf the fatis and Jove wil it be so,And hes decreit he fynaly thyddir go;Ȝit, at the lest, thar mot he be assail,With hardy pepill ay trublyt in bataill;By fors of armys expellyt hys boundis eik,Far from Ascanyus help, constrenyt beseikAyd and supple; and als that he behaldFeil cayrfull corsys of hys folk ded and cald:And quhen alsso hym self submyt hes heVndir payce and lawis of iniquite,That he bruke nowthir realm, nor gude lyfe led,Bot fal fey or his day, and sone be ded,And ly onerdyt in myddis of the sandis.Thys I beseik ȝou, hevand vp my handis:This is my lattir word at I conclude,Furthȝettand it togidder with my blude.And forthirmor, O ȝe, my Tyrianys,Quhilk now in Affrik at Cartage remanys,Ȝone clan, with thar successioun and kynrayd,Persew with haitrent perpetual, and invaid:Onto my assys grant this a gift, quod sche.Nevir luf nor payce betwix thir pepill be:Of our levingis sum revengar mot spryng,With fyre and sword to persew and doun thryngThe lauboreris discend from Dardanus.Now fra thyne furth, all that succedis til ws,Quhen euer thai may fynd tyme, with strenth and mychtBatail to batail mot thai debait in fyght:Thir costis mot be to tharis contrar ay,And to thar stremys our seys frawart, I pray,Thar ofspring eik amang thame self mot debate.Thus said scho, and with that word, God wate,Hir faynt spreit in al partis writhis sche,Sekand the way, alssone as it mycht be,Forto bereif hir self the irksum lyve.Tho callys scho to hyr Barcen belyve,Nurys vmquhile to Sychey hir husband;For hir awyn nurys in hir native landWas beryit in to assis broun or than.Deir nurys, quod scho, fech my sister An;Byd hir in haist with watir of a fludeHir body strynkil; the bestis, and the blude,And clengyng graith scho knawis, with hir bring:Se on this wys scho cum, forȝet na thyng;And thou thy self thine halffettis als arrayWith haly garland. My will is to assay,And now perform the sacryfyce in hy,That onto Pluto dewly begun haue I;To mak end of my dolorus thochtis all,And byrn ȝon Troiane statw in flamb funeral.Thus said Dido; and the tother, with that,Hychit on furth with slaw pays lyke a trat.

CAP. XII

Heir followis of the famus queyn DydoThe fatale dynt of deth and mortale wo.Bot now the hasty, egyr, and wild Dydo,Into hyr cruell purpos enragyt so,The bludy eyn rollyng in hir hed,Wan and ful paill for feir of the neir ded,With chekis freklyt, and al of tythirris bysprent,Quakyng throu dreid, ruschit furth, or scho wald stent,Onto the innar wardis of hyr place,As wod woman clam on the byng, allace!And furth scho drew the Troiane swerd, fute hait,A wapyn was neuer wrocht for syk a nate.And sone as sche beheld Eneas clething,And eik the bed bekend, a quhile wepyng,Stude musyng in hir mynd; and syne, but baid,Fel in the bed, and thir last wordis faid:O sweit habyte, and lykand bed, quod sche,So lang as God lyst suffir and destane,Ressaue my blude, and this sawle that on flocht is,And me delyvir from thir hevy thochtis.Thus lang I levyt haue, and now is spentThe term of lyfe that forton heth me lent;For now my gret gost vndir erth mon go.A richt fair cite haue I beild alsso:Myne awyn wark and wallys behald haue I:My spows wrokyn of my brothir ennemy,Fra hym byreft hys tressour, and quyt hym weill.Happy, allace! our happy, and ful of seyll,Had I beyn, only gyf that neuer naneAt our cost had arryvit schip Troiane.And sayand this, hir mouth fast thristis scheDoun in the bed: Onwrokyn sal we de?De ws behufis, scho said, and quhou; behald!And gan the scharp sword to hir breist vphald;Ȝa, thus, thus lykis ws starve and to depart:And, with that word, rave hir self to the hart.Now lat ȝon cruel Troiane swelly and seThis our fyre funerale from the deip see,And of our deth turs with hym fra CartageThys takyn of myscheif in hys vayage.Quod scho: and, tharwith, gan hir seruandis behaldHir fallyn and stekit on the irne cald;The blude outbullyrand on the nakyt swerd;Hir handis furthsprent. The clamour than and rerdWent to the toppys of the large hallys;The noys ran wild out our the cite wallis,Smate all the town with lamentabill murnyng.Of greting, gowlyng, and wyfly womentyng,The ruffis dyd resound, bray, and rayr,Quhil huge bewalyng al fordynnyt the air:Nane other wys than thocht takyn and doun betWar al Cartage, and with ennemys ourset,Or than thar natyve cite, the town of Tyre;And furyus flambe, kendillit and byrnand schyre,Spredyng fra thak to thak, baith but and ben,Als weil our templis as howsis of othir men.Hir systir An, spreitles almaist for dreid,Heirand sa feirful confluens thyddir speid,With nalys ryvand reuthfully hir face,And smytand with hir nevis hir breist, allace!Fast ruschis throu the myddis of the rowt,And on the throwand, with mony sprauch and schout,Callys by name: Systir germane, quod scho,Och! was this it thou fenȝeit the to do?Hes thou attempyt me with syk dissait?This byng of treys, thir altaris, and fyris hait,Is this the thyng thai haue onto me dycht?Quhat sall I first compleyn, now dissolate wight?O deir systir, quhen thou was reddy to de,Ha! quhy hes thou sa far dyspysyt meAs to reffus thi systir with the to wend?Thou suld haue callyt me to the sammyn end;That the ilk sorow, the sammyn swerd, both tway,And the self hour, mycht haue tane hyne away.Thys funeral fyre with thir handis biggyt I,And with my voce dyd on our goddis heir cry,To that effect as, cruel, tobe absent,Thou beand thus sa duylfully heir schent!Sistir, allace! with my counsell haue IThe, and my self, and pepill of Sydony,The heris all, and eik thi fayr cite,Distroyt and ondoyn for ay, quod sche.Fech hiddir sone the well watir lew warm,To wesch hir woundis, and hald hir in myne arm;Syne with my mowth at I may sowk, and seGyf spreit of lyve left in hir body be.This sayand, the hie byng ascendis onane,And gan enbrays half ded hir systir germane,Culȝeand in hir bosum, and murnand ay,And with hir wympil wipyt the blude away.And scho agane, Dydo, the dedly queyn,Pressyt fortil vplift hir hevy eyn,Bot tharof falys; for the grysly woundDeip in hir breist gapis wyde and onsound.Thrys scho hir self raxit vp to rys;Thrys on hir elbok lenys; and als feill sysScho fallys bakwart in the bed agane:With eyn rollyng, and twynkland vp ful fane,Assays scho to spy the hevynys lyght;Syne murmouris, quhen scho tharof gat a sycht.Almychty Juno havand reuth, by this,Of hir lang sorow and tarysum ded, I wys,Hir mayd Irys from the hevyn hes send,The throwand sawle to lowys, and mak ane endOf al the juncturis and lethis of hir cors:Becaus that, nothir of fatis throu the fors,Nor ȝit by natural ded, peryschit sche,Bot fey, in hasty furour emflambyt hie,Befor hir day had hir self spilt;Or that Proserpyne the ȝallow haris giltFrom hir fortop byreft, or dubbyt hir hedOnto the Steygian hellis flude of ded.Tharfor dewy Iris throu the hevynWith hir safron weyngis flaw ful evin,Drawand, quhar scho went, forgane the son cleir,A thousand cullouris of diuers hewys seir;And abufe Dydoys hed arest kan:I am commandyt, said scho, and I manOmdo this hayr, to Pluto consecrate,And lowis thi sawle out of this mortale stait.Thys sayand, with rycht hand hes scho hyntThe hair, and cuttis in twa, or that scho stynt;And thar withall the naturale heyt outquent,And, with a puft of aynd, the lyfe furthwent.

THE PROLOUG OF THE FYFT BUKE

Gladys the grond the tendir florist greyn,Byrdys the bewys and thir schawys scheyn,The wery huntar to fynd hys happy pray,The falconeyr rych ryver onto fleyn;The clerk reiosys hys bukis our to seyn,The luffar to behald hys lady gay;Ȝong folk thame schurtis with gam, solace, and play:Quhat maist delytyth or lykis euery wight,Tharto steris thar curage day and nycht.Knychtis delytis to assay sterand stedys,Wantoun gallandis to trayl in sumptuus wedis;Ladeys desyris to behald and be seyn;Quha wald be thrifty courtyouris says few credis:Sum plesance takis in romans that he redis,And sum hes lust to that wes nevir seyn:Quhou mony hedis als feil consatis beyn;Twa appetitis oneth accordis with othir;This lykis the, perchance, and not thi brothir.Plesance and joy richt hailsum and perfyte is;So that the wys tharof in proverb wrytis,A blith spreit makis greyn and floryst age.Myne author eyk in Bucolykis endytis,The ȝong enfant fyrst with lauchtir delytisTo knaw hys moder, quhen he is litil page:Quha lauchis not, quod he, in thar barnage,Genyus, the God, delytyth not thar tabill,Nor Juno thame to kepe in bed is habill.The hie wysdome and maist profound engyneOf myne author Virgile, poete dyvyne,To comprehend, makis me almaist forvay,So crafty wrocht hys wark is, lyne by lyne.Tharon aucht na man irk, compleyn, nor quhryne:For quhy? he altyrris hys style sa mony way;Now dreid, now stryfe, now lufe, now wo, now play,Langeir in murnyng, now in melody,To satyfy ilk wightis fantasy;Lyke as he had of euery thyng a feill,And the willys of euery wight dyd feill;And tharto eyk so wysly writis heTwiching the proffyte of the common weill,Hys sawys beyn full of sentencis, euery deill,Or morale doctryne, that men suld vycis fle:Bot gyf he be nocht joyus now lat se;For quha so lyst seyr glaidsum gemmys leyr,Ful mony myrry abaytmentis followis heir.Now harkis sportis, myrthis, and myrry plays,Full gudly pastans on mony syndry ways,Endyte by Virgil, and heir by me translate,Quhilk William Caxton knew never al hys days:For, as I sayd befor, that man forvays;Hys febil proys beyn mank and mutulate;Bot my propyne come from the pres fute hait,Onforlatit, not jawyn fra tun to tun,In fresch sapour new from the berry run.Bachus of glaidnes, and funeral Proserpyne,And Goddes of triumphe, clepyt Victorie,Sal I ȝou call as ȝour name war dyvyne?Na, na, it suffysyth of ȝou ful smal memorie:I byd nothir of ȝour turmentis nor ȝour glorie;Bot he quhilk may ws glaid perpetualy,To bryng ws tyll hys blys on hym I cry.Sen erdly plesour endis oft with sorow, we se,As in this buke nane exemplys ȝe want,Lord, our protectour to all trastis in the,But quham na thing is worthy nor pyssant,To ws thy grace and als gret mercy grant,So forto wend by temporal blythnesThat our eternale joy be nocht the les!

THE FYFT BUKE OF ENEADOS

CAP. I

Ene fra Cartage salys, and quhon belyveHe with the tempest was in Sycill dryve.In the meyn quhile tho gan Eneas haldSovirly hys cours throu the gray fludis cald,Hys navy with north wynd scherand the seys:Towart Cartage he gan behald, and seysBe than the wallys lemand brycht and schyreOf the onhappy Dydoys funeral fyre.Quha had this gret fyre maid, and to quhat end,Thai marvellyt, for the causys war onkend:Bot by the sorofull takynyng, not the les,The Troianys in thar breistis tuke a gesQuharfor it was; for weil wyst EneasIn violait lufe quhat strenth of dolour was,And knew alsso quhat thyngis mycht be controvytBy women in fury rage that strangly luffyt.Bot fra the schippys held the deyp see,That now na mair sycht of the land thai se,Salve hevyn abufe, and fludis all about,A watry clowd, blak and dyrk, but dout,Gan our thar hedis tho appeir ful rycht,And down a tempest sent als dyrk as nycht;The streym wolx vgsum of the dym sky.Palynurus, the maistir, gave a cryFrom the eft castell heich, thar as he stude;Quharfor, allace! samony clowdis onrude,Quod he, bylappyt hes the hevynnys, lo?Fader Neptune, quhat etlys thou to do?This beyng said, commandis he euery feirDo red thar takillis, and stand hard by thar geir,And wightly als thar arys vp to haile:Hymself infangis the le schete of the saill,And eftir said; maist curageus Ene,Althocht our helpar, gret Jove, wald hecht it me,I traist not with this weddir to wyn Itale.The wynd is contrar, brayand in our bak saill,Hard in our berd vpblawand wondir fayr,And al with bubbys ombesett is the ayr;Nor we may nocht stryve nor infors sa fastAgane the storm, bot stowtar is the blast:And sen that forton masteris ws, tharforLat ws follow tharon, and ryn befor,Quhiddyr that the wyndis callys ws set saill.Not far hens, as that I beleif, sans faill,The frendful, brotherly, costis of Erycys,And sovir portis of Sycil beyn, I wys,Gif I remembir the methys of starnys weill.Tho quod reuthful Eneas, so haue I seyll,I saw langsyne the wyndis ettyll that way,And the, invayn, agane thame stryve perfay:Tyte turn ȝour salys and set thyddyr ȝour went;Thar is na land mair lykand to myne entent,Nor quhar me lyst sa weil, and profitabillOur wery folkis to restyng and estabill,Than in that cuntre quharin doith remane,Ful deir to me, Acestes of blude Troiane,And in his boundis, derrest outour the lave,My faderis banys enbrasys, layd in grave.This beand sayd, towart the port thai stevyn,The followand wynd blew strek thar saill furth evyn:Fast our the wallys slydis the navy,And in schort quhile arryvit ar blythlyAt the strandis and costis weil bekend.Bot, on the hie top of a hyll ascend,Acestes gan behald, and had gret wondir,And to the cost, als fers as ony thundyr,To meit hys frendis schippys dyd he speid,A beyr skyn of Affryke aboue hys weyd,Ful grym of luke, with dartis keyn and rude:Hys moder Troiane of Crinosus the fludeConsavyt hym and bayr, as it is said.Not forȝettyng hys ald kyn, blyth and glaidOf thar return was he, and myrrelyThame welcumand ressauyt by and by;Gave thame of rural metis with glaid semlance,And cherysyt thame with frendly purvyance.

CAP. II

Eneas in Sycill, but langar tary,Maid for his fader the seruyce anniuersary.The nixt morow, als sone as the brycht day,The son vprysand, chasyt the starnys away,Eneas gan fra euery cost aboutHys folkis all assembill in a rowt,Syne spak thir wordis on a knollys hycht;O ȝe my Troiane pepill, stowt and wyght,Discend from worthy Dardanus the kyng,And of the hie goddis ryall ofspryng,The son hes run hys hail cours circular,Hys monethis twelf, and the tyme anniuersar,Sen that the reliqueis and bonys infeirOf my dyvyne fader we erdyt heir,And eyk the dolorus altaris consecrate.Les than I be dissavyt, weil I waitThys is the day that euermor sall IMeyn and regrait, and al tyme reverentlyIn wirschip keip, and with gret honour haldFor so it plesith ȝou, goddis, and so ȝe wald.Ȝa, thocht I war wilsum, and banyst this da,Amang sey sandis of Getulya,Or ȝyt with storm ourset in the Greik see,Or in the cite of Myce hapnyt tobe,Netheles suld I seruyce anniuersar,And exequeys, with solemnyt pomp and fair,Dewly perform, and, with myne awyn handis,Adorn the altaris with thar just offerandis.Now, as I weyn, or we persavyt the chance,Not but the myghtis of goddis and purvyance,Onto the assis and the bonys deirOf my sayd fader bene we caryit heir,Entrit in frendly portis and arryve:Tharfor haue done, and lat ws all, belyve,Perform this honour blithly, as efferis;Ask prosper wyndis, and beseyk euery ȝerisThat my fader wald eftir this ressaueThis sacrifyce, quhilk I begunnyn haue,Within our cite that we mon beild, God wait,In tha templys onto hym dedicate.Acestes, cummyn of Troy, for hys wirschip,Twa oxin sal ȝou geif for euery schyp.Our Penates and Troiane goddis, for thy,Bryng furth hyddir onto the maniory:Do fech me eyk tha goddis to this cost,Quhilk wirschippit ar by Acestes, our host.And forthirmar, gyf that the nynt dayRys fair and cleyr, with hys brycht morow gay,And gan hys bemys our the erth spreid,First sal I ordand for my Troianys, in deyd,Quha hes the swyftast schippis of our navy,With al thar fors to stryfe for the mastry;And eik, quha best on fute kan ryn, lat se,To preif hys picht, or wersyll, and bair the gre,Or dartis kast, and best schute arrowis lycht;Or, lyke a douchty campioun into fyght,With bustuus baston darryn stryve, or mays:Lat euery man addres hym to this place,And mak hym reddy agane the sammyn day,Fortil opteyn, and bayr the pryce away.Annerd heirto, ilk man, rycht favorabilly,And hald ȝour payce, but owthir noys or cry,And do ȝour hedis with fresch bewys array.And sayand this, he gan hys templis twaCovir with myrthus, that is his moderis tre.The sam wys dyd gret Helymus, perde;Rycht so hym self kyng Acestes the ald,Richt so the child Ascanyus so bald;Quham followys al the laif in lyke maner.The prynce Ene, from the counsale in feyr,With mony thousandis walkand hym about,Went to the tumbe amyd the thykkest rout;Quhar fyrst, eftir thar payane ryte and gys,Twa flaconys ful of wyne, in sacryfys,Apon the erd he ȝet, and other twaneFull of new mylkyt mylk, and syne aganeTwa full of hayt blude was of the offerandis,And purpour flowris strowis with hys handis;Syne said: Hail, haly fader! hail aganeȜ assys cald, ressauyt al invane,Vmquhile contenyt my faderis sawle and gost.Allace! was it not leful, thou onlost,The boundis of Itale, with the, and fatale landis,Forto haue socht, and eik onto the strandisOf Tybir in Ausonya, quhar evir it be,Arryvit sound, in fallowschip with the?Scars said he thus, quhen, of the holl graf law,A gret eddir slydand gan furth thraw,In sevyn lowpis lynkyt, and tymys sevynCirculyt the tumbe about sweitly and evyn,And glydand syne amang the altaris onon:Of freklit sprutlis al hir bak schone,As goldyn mailȝeis hir skalys glytrand brycht;Lyke to the rayn bow amang clowdis lycht,Drawand always, forgane the son cleir,A thousand cullouris of diuers hewis seir.Eneas of the syght abasyt sum deill:Bot scho at last, with lang fard, fair and weill,Crepis amang the veschell and cowpis all;The drynk, and cyk the offerandis gret and small,Snokis and lykkyt; syne full the altaris left,And, but mair harm, in the graf enterit eft.Quharfor Ene begouth agane renewHys faderys hie sawle queith; for he not knewQuhiddir this was Genyus, the god of that sted,Or than the seruand of hys fader ded:Fyve twyntyrris brytnyt he, as was the gys,And alsmony swyne, and tydy quyisWith hydys blak; and into cowpys syneIn gret plente ȝet furth the hallowyt wyne,Rowpand the sawle of gret Anchyses gone,And hys gost fred from the flude Acheron.Hys feris eik, euery man in thar degre,Of syk thyng as thai mycht get plente,Blithly thar offerandis addressis to inbring;Chargis the altaris, and brytnys styrkis ȝyng.Sum othir per ordour caldronys gan vpset,And, skatryt endlang the greyn, the colis hetVndir the spetis swakkis, to royst in threytThe raw spaldis ordanyt for the mulde meyt.