The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

CAP. VIII

The ward of worthy weyrmen now EneBeheld, and heir with Deiphobus spak he.Wyth al his speid fra thens he tuk the gaytThat was ontil him grantit by hys fayt.And sone thai war in cummyn to the planeAnd lattir wardys, quharin dois remaneValyant folkis in feild and chevalry,Tha secret stedis hantand by and by.Heir him recontrit Parthenopeus,And intil armys valyant Tedeus;The pail gost eik of Adrastus the king.Thar saw he als, with huge greyt and murnyngIn mydlerd oft menyt, thir TroianysDuryng the sege that into batale slane is:Quhom as he gan behald wydequhar on raw,Ful tendirly complenyng, thar he sawGlawcus, Medontus, and Thersylocus,Anthenoris thre sonnys, and PolybetusOnto the goddes Ceres consecrate;Ideus saw he in his ald estate,Baith rewland ȝit his cart, and wapynnys weildand.Onto Eneas left side and rycht handThe sawlys flokkis, circulyt in a rowt:Not sufficyt thame to spy him anys abowt;Bot, desiring he tareit evir mair,Furth with him forto walkin and reparWeil lykis thame, towart him fast to thring,And to inquire the caus of his cummyng.The nobillis eik of Grekis, one by one,With the gret rowtis of Agamenon,Alsone as thai the stalwart Troiane sawIn brycht armour amyd the schaddowis law,Gretly afferd war smyte with fellon dreid:Sum gave the bak, takand the flycht gude speid,As quhilum thai onto thar schippis socht;Sum rasyt a cry with waik voce, as thai mocht:Bot al for nocht, thar clamour was ful skant,The sovndis brak with gasping or a gant.Syne Deiphobus, quhilum armypotent,Kyng Pryamis son, with body tore and rent,Thar he beheld, and crewel manglit face,Vissage menȝeit, and baith hys handis, allace!Half-hedis spulȝeit, of stowyt his erys tway,By schaymful wound hys nes cuttit away.With gret difficulte he him skarsly knew,Trymlyng for lak, eschamyt red of hew,As that he mycht, hydand hys fellon woundis:Ondemandit, with frendly wordis and sovndisEne hym grat, sayand; Of gret renown,Deiphobus, armypotent champyoun,Quha hes, allace! the marthyrit swa and slaneBy sa crewel tormentis and hydduus pane?Quhou euer was ony sufferit the sa to dight?It was me tald, of Troy the lattir nyght,Thou, wery and forfochtin in that stedFor sa feil Grekis be thi dyntis ded,Abuf the hepe of ded corpsis ouraneFell down for bled, thar standing thyne allane.Than I my self, fra this was to me schaw,Down at the nes Rethe, by the costis law,A voyd tumbe rasyt, and with lowd voce thrysApon the wrethis and wandrand gaistis cryis.Thy armys and thy name that place doith hald.My frend, thy body kouth I nocht behaldNor fynd, thocht I wald it haue gravit eft,The tyme quhen I our natyve cuntre left.Kyng Pryamis son maid answer; suyth is it,Na thing, my deir frend, dyd thou pretermyt;All that thou aucht to Deiphobus, ilk deillThou hest perfurnyst worthely and weil,As to my berial and sprete appertenyt.Bot my hard fatis war wers than thou wenyt:For the detestabill cursyt wikkytnesOf Helyn born in Lacena, I ges,Has me involuyt in thir harmys ȝe se:Thir ar hir last luf drowreis left with me.Ful weil thou wait quhou that the lattir nychtIn fals myrthis we spendyt, euery wight;Allace the quhile! our gret mater of cayrBehuffis ws hald in memor euermar:Quhen that the fatale hors, to our ennoy,Com speland owr the hie wallys of Troy,With belly chargit full of armyt men;That strang lurdane than, quham weil ȝe ken,The Troiane matronys hedis in a ryng,Fenȝeand to Bachus feste and karellyng;Amyddis al the laif a gret fyre brand,Byrnand ful cleir, scho haldis in hir hand,Quharwith, out from the master streyt of Troy,The Grekis dyd scho bekyn and convoy.This ilk tyme me, with hevy curis langOf irksum weir and sad, slumrys strangOppressit, for my walkyn mony fald,My fey chalmer gan my body hald.Fordoverit as I lay in to that sted,In swete profound rest of sleip lyke soft ded,That notabil spows furth of hir lugyng place,This meyn sesson, al armour dyd arrace;My trasty sword fra vnder my hed awayStall scho, and in the place brocht Menelay;The chalmer durris oppynnyt scho in hy,Wenyng to wyrk a hie plesour tharbyTo hir first luffar, and hir ald schameTharthrou to quynche, and recover gud name.Quhat suld I tarry, or ȝou langar hald?The Grekis ruschit in the chalmyr thik fald:Amang al otheris sammyn thiddir spedisThat schrew prouocar of all wikkyt dedis,Eolus nevo, cursyt Vlixes sle.On siklyke wys as thar thai dyd with me,Gret goddis mot the Grekis recompens,Gif I may thyg avengeans but offens!Bot say me this agane, frend, altogidder,Quhat aventur hes brocht the levand hydder?Quhidder wavyt wilsum by storm of the see,Or at command of goddis, com thou, quod he?Or quhat fortoun doith the cach and steyr,That to this sory hald thou cummys heir,To vissy this trublyt dym regioun,Quhar evir is nycht, and nevir son ȝit schon?

CAP. IX

Sibilla carpand tyl Ene gan tellThe tormentis of deip drery paynful hell.The quhile as thai thus carpyt to and fra,Hir rosy charyot the fresch AuroraAmydwart of the hevynnys assiltreBegouth fortil vproll and rays on hie;The myd declynyng of hir cowrs was went:And thai, percace, on sik wys mycht haue spentThe tyme compleyt was for thar journe grant;Bot sone hym warnys Scibilla the sant,His trew marrow, gan schortlie to him say:The nycht, Eneas, slydis fast away;Weping the howris we consume and waist:Heir is the place quhar owr passage in haistDepartit is, and sched in stretis twane.This way, towart the rycht hand, strekis planeTo the hie wallys of Schir Ditis kyng;It is our reddy went, quhilk sall ws bringOnto the plesand playn of Elyse:This other gait, on the left hand ȝe se,Convoys onto the sted of fell torment,Quhar dampnyt schrewis in Tartarus ar sentIn woful pyt perpetual to remane.Than Deiphobus maid this answer agane:Beis nocht agrevit, souerane nun, I pray,I sal no langar dwel, bot go my way;I sal compleyt my number furth, quod he,And to dym schaddowis rendrit sall I be.Pas on, pas on, our wirschip and renown!Mair prosper chance to hant go mak the bown!Thus fer spak Deiphobus, and, with that saw,About turnyt hys pays, and gan withdraw.Eneas blent him by, and suddanlyVndir a rolk at the left syde dyd spyA wondir large castell, strang and stowt,With wallys thrynfald lappit rownd about;Quham the grysly Tartareane Flagiton,That ravenus flude, closys enveron,With watir blesand brym in fyry low,And rolland stanys rumland deip and how.The port in foirfront was ful huge gret;Of ferm adamant war the pillaris bet,Sa that na fors of men mycht thame down myne,Nor ȝit the strenth of goddis with strang ingyne:Ane irne towr stude beildit wondir hie,Quhilk semyt forto reke vp in the skye.Tysiphone, that furyus monstre wild,In bludy caip revestit and oursild,Sittis kepand, but sleip, baith nycht and day,That sory entre and this porch alway.Tho begouth thai first in this sted to heyrMurnyng, granyng, gowlyng, and duylfull beir:Feil crewell strakis smytyn hard thai sovnd,Frasyng of irne fettris and chanys rovnd.Ene gan him arrest, in mind withinAl abasit, herknand this feirfull dyn.O haly virgyn, say furth now, quod he,Quhat kynd of grysly turment may this be?In quhat punytioun, panys, and distres,Beyn sawlis ȝondir strenȝeit, prophetes?Quhat menys this bruyt, weping, and woful cryis,With sik walyng semys fordyn the skyis?Scibilla thus begouth answer agane:O wirschipfull and gentil duke Troiane,It is nocht lesum to nane innocent wightWithin boundis of wikkytnes or onrychtTil entir, nor attayn to neir that ȝet;Bot the first tyme Proserpyn maid and setMe mastres of Avern, hir hallowit schaw,The Goddys turmentis gan scho to me schaw,And me convoyit thar throw euery sted.This maist dolorus realm to steir and ledHes Radamanthus, vmquhile of Creyt kyng,Haldand maste scharp and sayr lawys in hys ryng;Chastiand folkis, speris thar offence expres;By turment thame compellis thar cryme confes,Synnys committit abufe in the erd,Quham ony, joyand to thar awin wanwerd,But proffyt doith conseil, hyde, or delay,Onamendit quhil dedis lattyr day.Syk wikkyt and condampnyt wightis, als tyteAs thai cum in that dolly pyt of syte,Tysyphone, the wrekar of mysdedis,With quhip in hand al reddy fast hir spedisThame to assail, to tor, skurge, and bete,And with hir left hand terribil eddyrris gretThik at thame swakkis; syne, to pyne thame, doith callOf fel torment the rowt of systyrris all.And tho at last with horribil sovndis tristTha wareit portis, iargand on the hirst,Warpit vp braid. Lo! ȝondir may thou seQuhat kynd wardane syttis in the porch, quod sche,And quhou terribill of contenans and cheirThou hir behaldis kepis the entre heir:Ane mair feirful monstre and mair fell,Ane vgly serpent, syttis within ȝon hell,With fyfty hydduus blak throtis gapand.And forthir eik ȝon Tartarus ay trymland,Quhilk is of hell the dirk dungeon and pyt,Dippis twys als holl down, I lat the wyt,Semyng so law vnder the erth reke,As that our sight may vp to hevynnys streke.Tharin the ancyant lynage of the erd,Thir gyantis hait Tytanas, be wanwerdWith thundris blast dovn smytyn and ourthraw,Ar warpyt in ȝon pottis boddum law.Thar saw I eyk Aloeus twynnys twane,Othus and Ephialtes, bredir germane,With huge bodeis, that pressyt dovn to rentWith thar handis the large firmament,And by thar fors begouth expell the kyng,Hie Jupiter, furth of his hevynly ryng.Thar I beheld Salmoneus alsswa,In crewel torment sufferand mekil wa,For that he gan to contyrfet him castGret Jovis fyre and hevynly thundris blast.By horssis four furth rollit was his char,Secret condytis of fyre smytand sayr,Throwout the pepil of Greys and of Arcad,Amyd the cite of Elys, blith and glaid,Prowd and haltand in hys hart, walkyt he,And as a god bad honorit he suld be;For that, intil his dotage and fuyl heyt,By sownd of bras and stampand stedis feyt,He maid hym forto feyn a simylitudeOf clowdis blast, and rumland thundir rude,Quhilk on na wys aucht to be contyrfet.Bot the hie fader Almychty from hys setThrow thyk clowdis at hym hys dart dyd thraw;Nowder blak fyre brand, nor reky flambys law;Bot suddanly with a fel bles of thundyrThrew hym to grond, and smayt him al in sondyr.To Tytyos thar was I schawin in deid,With body speldyt nyne akyr on breid,That fostyr child vmquhile was cleyp and callOnto the Erth, quhilk moder is of all:Ane hydduus grype with bustuus bowland beykHys maw immortal doith pyk and owrreik,Hys brudy bowellys torryng with huge payn,Furth rentyng all, hys fuyd to fang full fayn,Vndir his cost holkand in wail law,And sparis nocht to rug, ryfe, and gnaw;All thocht the entrallis springis new ilk day,Thai get na rest, the fowle hes thar hys pray.Quhat suld I rekkyn tha pepil of Thessaly,That Lapytas ar hait, for gluttonyDistroyt all? of Ixion to tell,Or Pyrothous, quhat nedis langar dwell?Abuf quhom hyngis blak quhyn stanys gret,Ay semand reddy to fall and thame to bete.Befor Tantalus, and ane othir sort,The goldin trestys schynand standis ourthwort,Vndir ryche tablys dight for maniory,Quharon, forgane thar face, is sett reddyAll danteys langand tyl a kyngis fest.Bot ane the gretast Fureys gan arest,Syttand tharby, and hungyr in thame blawys;And netheles thar handys scho withdrawys,So that the mesys twichyn dar thai nocht:As that thai mynt tharto, than all onflochtWith hait fyre brand in hand vp dois scho rys,Fleyis thame with flambe, grym luke, and vgly cryis.Thai beyn alsso within ȝon pyt turmentQuhilk at thar bredir envy held or haitrent,Quhil that thai levyt in this present lyfe;And tha quhom by, throu thar deray and stryfe,Thar faderis warryn chasyt in exile;All tha that ony falset, slyght, or gyle,Aganys thar seruandis or famyliaris wrocht;And tha that, only settyng all thar thochtApon thar ryches quhilk wonnyn thai haue,Tuke nocht thar nedis tharof, nor na man gave,Of quhom ȝondir beyn ane ful huge rowt;And all tha for adultry schent, but dowt,And tha that movyt wrangwys batall or weyr,Tha not eschamyt thar promys to forswer,Brekand lawte plight in thar lordys hand:All sik inclusyt ar ȝondyr, abydandEvery day new panys perpetualy.Speir not at me, for nocht declar can I,Quhat diuers kyndis of torment ȝondir thoil thai,Nor ȝit quhat sort of payn is deput ayFor ilk trespas: to rekkyn I tak na keipQuhat mysforton thame plungis in ȝon deip.For sum weltris a gret stane vp the bra,Of quhom in numbir is Sisyphus ane of tha:On quhelis spakis speldyt otheris hyngis.The maist wrechit of all princis and kyngis,Phlegyas, vmquhile kyng of Thessaly,All mortale wightis admonysys, with his cryAnd lowd voce throw the dyrk awytnessyng:Be myne exampill all wightis, prynce and kyng,Lernys, quod he, to hant justice and rycht,And not contem the goddis strentht and mycht.Thar syttis eik, and sal syt evir mair,The fey onhappy Thesyus, full of cair.Sum ȝondir beyn, for reddy gold in hand,Sald and betrasyt thar natyve realm and land,And tharin brocht a myghty tyrrant strang:Sum otheris eik, for pryce or meid to fang,That lawys maid and onmaid, as thame list.Thar beyn alsso, ful sorofull and tryst,Thai quhilk thar dochteris chalmer vyolate,Or, havand na regard to thar estate,Forbodyn or incestuus mariageGan hantyng by ondantit lustis rage.And schortly, all durst ymagyn or compasMastirfull wrang, myscheif, or wykkytnes,Or ony sik consait brocht to effek,Heir evyrmar the charge lyis on thar nek.All thocht ane hundretht scharp tungis had I,Ane hundreth mowthis forto clepe and cry,Tharto my voce war strang as irne or steill,All kynd of vicis to comprehend, half deill,Nor all the namys of tormentis and of panysI mycht nocht rekkyn, that in ȝon hald remanys.

CAP. X

Quhou finaly Scibilla and EneCom to the plesand plane of Elyse.Fra that the ancyant nun of Dan PhebusThir wordys endyt had, and spokkyn thus;Haue done, quod scho, now tak thi way expres,Perform thy wark quhilk thou begunnyn hes:Speid ws fordwart; for ȝondir, lo, I seOf Plutois chymmys the byg wallys hie,Forgyt of irne full craftely and betBe the Ciclopes furth of thar furnace het;Eik I behald, lo, heir forgane our face,Tha portis with thar stalwart bow or brace,Quhar our instructioun techis ws ful planeThis presand thar to leif and goldyn grane.Thus said scho; and onon tharwith baith twayGan walkyn furth throwout the darn way,And sone our passyt hes the myddill space,Approchyng to the portis of that place.Eneas baldly sprang in at the ȝet,Hys body strynkillit, or a litill wet,With cleir spryngand watir ran tharby;Forgane thame eik, at the entre, in hyThe goldyn branch he stykkis vp far and weill.This beand done at last, and euery deilPerfurnyst langyng the goddes gyft gay,Ontil a plesand grond cummyn ar thai,With battil gyrs, fresch herbys, and beyn swardis,The lusty orchardis and the hailsum ȝardisOf happy sawlys and weil fortunat,To blissyt wightis the placis preparat.Thir feildis beyn largiar, and hevynnys brychtRavestis thame with purpur schynand lycht:The starnys, for this place conuenient,Knawis weil thar son and obseruys his went.Sum thar, amyd the gresy planys greyn,Into palestral plays thame betweynThar membris gan exers, and hand for handThai fal to werslyng on the goldyn sand,Assayand honest gemmys thame to schort:Sum other hantyng gan ane other sport,As forto dansyng, and to leid the ryng,To syng ballatis, and go in karalyng.Thar was alsso the preist and menstrale sle,Orpheus of Trace, in syd rob harpand hie,Playand proportionys and spryngis dyvyneApon his harp, sevyn diuers sovndis fyne;Now with gymp fyngris doyng stryngis smyte,And now with subtel evyr poyntalis lyte.Heir was the nobil kyn and ancyant strynde,The maist dowchty lynage sprang be kyndeFra king Tewcer, campyones souerane,Into mair happy ȝeris born ilkane:Thar was Ilus, and eik Assaracus,And the begynnar of Troy, Schir Dardanus.On fer Eneas and als SibillaAwondrit war, and mervellis baith twaThe armour and the men for to behald,And voyd charyotis of thir chyftanys bald.Thar sperys stikkyng in the erd dyd stand;Wydquhar al lows owr feildis and the landPasturyt thar horsis, rakand thame fast by:For quhat plesour of armys or chevalry,Or quhat cuyr to addres thar cart or wedis,To fedyng and to dant thar sleik swail stedis,Thai hantit quhil thai levyt heir alyve,The sammyn solace, be thai man or wyfe,Ȝit doith thame follow vndir the erth stad.And lo, ane other sort, ful blyth and glaid,On athir hand behaldis Eneas,At banket on the greyn herbys set was,In loving of the goddis joyuslyYmpnys of pryce, triumphe, and victory,All syngand glaid togydder in falloschip,And pryncipaly Apollo to worschip:Within a wod of lawrer greyn thai dwell,Fragrant of sweit odour and hailsum smell,Quhar throw the schawis scheyn in strandis seirErydanus, the hevynly ryver cleyr,Flowys contyrmont and vpwart to the lift.Within this place, in al plesour and thryft,Ar hail the pissance quhilk, in just batal,Slane in defens of thar kynd cuntre fell;And al thai preistis and religius wightisQuhilk levyt chaste cleyn lyfe, as to thame rycht is;And al godlyke devote prophetis trew,That suythfast thyng worthy to Phebus schew;And thai quhilkis, by thar craftys or science fyne,Fund by thar subtel knawlage and engyne,Thar lyfe illumynat and annornyt cleir;And tha by merytabil dedis and gyftis seirThat maid otheris hald thame in memory:Of al thir war the tymplis by and byArrayt with a fresch garland snaw quhite.And as thai flokkit abowt Ene, als tyteSyk wys onto thame carpys Sibilla;Bot principaly to Museus, ane of tha,Was stad amyddis of the mekill rowt,As sche beheld hym with big schulderis stout:O ȝhe so happy sawlys, tellith me,And thou, maste souerane poet, schaw, quod sche,In quhat regioun and place bene Anchises?Hyddir for his saik come we, and with gret presHes oursalit of hell the gret fludis.This ryall lord in few wordis concludis,And ansuerit thus; frend, certane dwelling naneIn this cuntre haue we, bot all ouraneWalkys and lugis in thir schene wod schawys,Endlang thir ryver bankis all on rawys;Thar bene our settis, and beddis of fresch flowrisIn soft bene medowis by cleir strandis all howrisOur habitatioun is and residens.Bot gif ȝour mynd langis to haue presensOf Anchises, pas vp ȝone swyre fut het,I sall ȝou lyghtly in the hie way set.And sayand thus, befor thame furth went he,And can thame schaw, apon the hill on hie,The schynand planys full of all plesance.Agane returnys he, and thai avans,Fra thyne discending from the hillis hyght,Quhar thai at last of Anchises gat sycht.

CAP. XI

Quhou that Eneas with hys fader met,And athir othir with frendly wordis gret.The meyn sesson thys Anchises, the prynce,Intill a wondir grene vale full of fenceSawlys inclusit, quhilkis war forto wendTo myddil erd and thare in bodeis ascend,Can rekkyn, and behald attentfullyHail the nowmyr of hys geneologye,His tendir nevoys and posterite,Thare fatis, and thare fortonys euery gre,Thare conditions, thare strenth and hardyment.And sone as he persavys quhar that wentForganyst him, cumand throu gresy sward,Hys derrest son Ene with hasty fard,Baith his handys joyfull furthstracht he than;The teris trynglyng our his chekis ran,And fra his mouth slydis thir wordis myld:Thou art cummyn at last, my deir child;Thy gret piete, and kyndnes weil expertOnto thy fader, causyt the and gartThis hard vayage venquys and ourset!Quhat! is it grantit me? ha! sall I getA verray sight, luffit son, of thy face?And grantit ws to carp or talk a space?To heir and render frendly wordis knaw?Within my mynd ymagynyt I on rawSwa suld betyde, and weil belevit IThou was tocum, and the tyme by and byI calculit and comptit quhen that suld be;And my consait hes nocht dissauyt me.O God, throu quhou feill landis braid and large,Quhou mony seys ourcareit in thy barge,Efter quhou feil dangeris with storm oft schaik,I now ressaue the heir, deir son, allaik!Quhou gretlie dred I of Lybie that ryngSuld the haue hyndrit, and harmyt in sum thing!Eneas answeris; fader, thy drery gost,Sa oft apperand, maid me seik this cost:In Tyrrhean sey abydis our navy.Grant me, fader, now grant me by and by,We athir may with other handis schaik;Fra myne embrasyng withdraw the nocht, allaik!And sayand thys, tendyrly wepit he,Baithyng hys face in terys gret plente.On this wys talkyng, or thar wordis sessit,With hys lang armys thrys Eneas pressitAbout hys hals hym forto haue belappit,And thrys, invane, hys handys togidder clappit:The figur fled as light wynd, or son beym,Or mast lykly a waverand sleip or dreym.Duryng this tyme Eneas gan aduert,Within a vale fer thens closyt apart,Quhare stude a wod with swouchand bewys schene,The flude Lythee flowand throu the fair grene;About the quhilk pepill onnowmerabill,And silly sawlys, fleys fast, but fabill,Quhil all the feildis of thare dyn resoundis:Lyke as, in medowys and fresch florist boundis,The bissy beys in schene symmeris tyde,On diuers colorit flouris skalit wide,Flokkis about the blomyt lylleis quhite,And other fragrant blosummys redymyt.Mysknawyng quhat this ment, Eneas wightBecam abasit of the soddane syght,And can inquir the causys of this cace;Quhat war tha fludis far befor hys face,Or quhat bene tha men in syk numbyr swaWith so gret fard flokkit to athir bra.Tho quod hys fader Anchises; all ȝon beThai sawlys quhamto, by the fatis hie,Bene other bodeis eftir this yschape,Quhilk drynkis ȝondir, or thai may eskape,At ȝone ryver and the flude Lythee,The sikkyr watir but curis, trastis me,Quharby oblyvyus becum thai als tyte,Forȝetting pane bipast and langsum syte.Forsuyth, I purpos furthwith to declare,And schaw befor thy face now standand thar,The sawlys all, and numbyr in thy presens,Quhilkis ar tocum of my stok and discens;So that the mair glaidly with me tharbyThou may reios to haue fund Italy.O fader, quod Eneas, quhidder or nayIs that tobe belevyt at ȝhe say,That souerane saulys from this place sall wend,Onto the warld abufe or erd ascend?Quhy may thai nocht in this swete stede remane,Bot sall return in slaw bodeis agane?Quhat cursyt covatyce causith wrachit wightisSo to desyre our life and drery lightis?I sall the schaw forsuyth the caus, quod he,My derrest son, and sal no wys hald theThochtfull in mynde, ne doutsum by na way.Tharwith Anchises baith hys eyn twaGan lyftyng vp, and toward hewyn behald,And euery thing per ordour thus he tald.

CAP. XII

The seir punitioun of sawlis in purgatorye,And quhou thai pas syne to the flude Lythe.Fra the begynnyng, all thing les and mar,The fyry regioun, the erth, and the ayr,The plane flowand boundis of the sey,The lyghtnyt monys lamp that lemys hie,The hevynnys starnys, and bryght sonnys ball,Ane spreit thar is within, sustenys all:In euery part the hie wysdome dyvyneDiffundit movys this warldis hail engyne,And by hys power mydlit is our allThis mekil body clepit vniuersal.Fra this infusioun, and thir elementis seir,Baith kynd of man and best cummys, but weir,All levyng foulys fleying in the ayr,All fyschis, and the monstreis doith reparVndre the slekit sey of marbill hew.A hait fyry power, warm and dew,Hevinly begynnyng and original,Beyn in thar sedis quhilk we saulys call;Sa far as that thir noysum bodeis caldNocht tareis thame tharfra, nor doith withhald,Nor withdrawis from souerane hevinly kynd:Thar erdly lymmys, and eik thar irksum mynd,Throu thar mortal membris euer deidlike,Dullith thar curage and thar spretis godlyke.Fra the quhilk cummys to al mankynd, that thaiDredis, desiris, murnys, or joys ay;Nor, in the dyrk mansioun and preson blyndOf thir vyle bodeis yfettyrit and bynd,The sawlis thar clene natur may attend.So fer that, all efter the lattir end,Quhen that the lif disseueris fra the body,Than, netheles, not ȝit are fullelyAll harm ne cryme from wrachit sawlis separate,Nor ald infectioun come of the body layt:And thus, aluterly, it is neidfull thingThe mony vycis lang tyme induryng,Contrackit in the corps, be done away,And purgit on seir wonderfull wys to say.Tharfor thai suffir panys and torment,For thar inveterat vycis ald bywentBy punitioun satisfactioun to mak.Sum stentit in wysnand wyndis wak;Of sum the cryme committit clengit beVndre the watir or deip hydduus sey;And in the fyre the gilt of other sumIs purefyit and clengit all and sum.Ilk ane of ws hys ganand purgatoryMon suffir, and fra thyne ar send in hyOnto the large feildis of Elysee:Thar bene of ws nane, bot a few menȝe,Quhilkis cumis to inhabyt and remanys,But ony purging, in thyr ioyful planys;And heir mon dwell quhil that the lang day,Be perfyt cours of tyme, heth done awayThe spot of fylth hardnyt in the spreit,For that it fand sum tyme the body sweit,And quhil it be so purefyit and fynd,Na thing remane bot a clene hevynly mynd,And subtel pure flambe celestiall.Thir other sawlis quhilk bene purgit all,Eftir thai haue, within thir planys heir,By cirkill rollyt our a thousand ȝeir,God callis thame onto this flude Lythe,With felloun fard, in numbyr as ȝhe se;To that effect, that thai myndles becumBaith of plesour and ald panys all and sum,Langing agane the warld abufe to se,And gan begyn desire, baith he and he,In bodeis ȝit forto return agane.Thus said Anchises; and tharwith baith twane,Hys son and eik the prophet Sibilla,Amyddys of that sort flokkit to the bra,And gret rowt with rangald, in ledis he;And gan ascend ontill a mote on hie,Quharfra, per ordour, forganyst thame on raw,Thai mycht thame rekkin all, and cleirly knawThar vissagis and contenance also,As that thai went and rowmyt to and fro.