The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

CAP. IV

Kyng Latyn speris the caus of thar cummyng,And Ilioneus maid gudly ansueryng.In sik a tempill of goddis Latyn Kyng,Amyd his faderis set ryall sytting,Gart fech the Troianys to his presens heir;And as thai entrit, and befor him wer,With glaid semlant and vissage ful benyngThir wordis first to thame carpis the king:Say me, Troianys, quhat ȝe desire, quod he;For weil we knaw ȝour lynage and cite,And it is alsso cummyn to our erysȜe set ȝour cours our se thir mony ȝeris;Schaw for quhat causis, or quhat necessite,Ȝour schippis our sa feill haw stremys of seeBeyn hiddir to this cost of ItalyCareit or dryve, or quhidder ȝour navyHas errit by thar cours, and far gone will,Or ȝit by fors of storm catchyt hiddertill,As oft wil happin by the frawart tydeTo marynaris on fludys deip and wyde.Gyf ȝe sik wys within our ryver bankisBe entryt, or remanys with our thankisIn to our port and havynnys fast heir by,Withdraw ȝou not, ne fle nocht that harbry;Nor mysknaw not the condityons of wsLatyn pepill and folk of Saturnus,Onconstrenyt, not be law bund thartill,Bot be our inclinatioun and fre willJust and equale, and but offencis ay,Ar rewlit eftir the ald Goddys way.As twichyng eik ȝour discens and ofspryng,Weil I ramembir that I haue hard sum thing;Bot that is passyt, or now, sa mony ȝheris,The fame almaste forȝet is and efferis;Agit men of the cite Arunca,With gret avant, forsuyth, thame hard I say,Of this cuntre Schir Dardanus yborThrow out the sey socht far and ferthyrmorTyl Samo, fyrst, in Trace, the nerrest gait,Quhilk Samothracia now to name is hait;Syne socht he to the land of Phrygia,And citeis set in the wod of Ida.The goldyn palyce now with sternys brychtOf hevyn in seyt riall withhaldys that wyght,That vmquhile socht fra hyne of Tuscany,And Corith cite, standis our cost hard by;That now a god is clepit our all quhar,And to thar numbir ekis hys altar.Thus said the kyng; and Ilioneus, but baid,Onto hys wordys thus wys answer maid.Maist ryall prynce, cummyn of hie parageOf god Fawnus, nowdyr the seys rageBy fors of dyrk tempest has ws dryveOnto ȝour realm, and tharat maid arryve,Nor ȝit the laid stern from our cours bywauyt,Nor strange cost of this regioun dissauyt:Bot by assent common, and of fre will,And set purpos, we socht this cite till,As folkis flemyt fra thar natyve cuntre;Vmquhile the maste souerane realm, trast me,That evir the son from the far part of hevynWith hys bemys ourschane, or man can nevin.From Jupiter dyd our lynnage begyn,And all the ofspring of Schir Dardanus kynOf Jupiter thar forfader can reios;Of Jovis stok in hyast gre most choisOur kyng discend, the strang Troiane Enee,In message send ws heir to thy cite.Quhou gret tempest of batale and debaitOur Troiane feildis wyd has walkyt laytBy cruel Grekis hydduus confluens,Quhat fatale bargane thar maid and defens,Athir part knawys of the warldis twa,That is to say, Europ and Asya:And gif thar ony ferthir regioun be,Diuidit be the streym and occiane seeFra the ferm land, tharof thai haue hard tell;And thai alsso, gif ony thar may dwell,The sonnys myd cirkill remanys vnder,Hait Torrida Ȝona, dry as ony tundir,Quhilk is amyd the hevynnys situatAmang four othir plagis temperate.Fra that diluge eschape and feirful spait,Careit throu feil large haw stremys wayt,A litil sted or mansioun, we beseik,Grant to our natyve kyndly goddis meik,The bair sey cost, hurtand na mannys rycht,With air and watir common to euery wight.Na mair lak to ȝour realm sall we be,Nor na repreif tharby to ȝour renowneBe ws, nor nane other, sal nevir spreid;Nor ȝit the thankis of sa frendful a deidSal ony tyme into obliuion slyde;Nor Italy, with hir braid bundis and wide,Sal nevir repent that scho the folk of TroyHes ressauyt, nor tharof thynk ennoy.Be al Eneas destaneis I sweir,Hys trasty faith, or rycht hand into weirSa valȝeand at onset and defens,And by his lang wse and experiensOf armys, quhilk he hes in batale hantit;Ful mony pepil, victoryus, ondantit,Desirit ws in frendschip and ally,And tobe jonyt in thar senȝeory:Nor lichtly not forthy our frendly proffer,Quhilk of our fre will onrequirit we offir,With wordis of request and of trety,The takynnys in our handis born vp hye:For oft the fatis of the goddis seirHas ws compellit by thar strang powerOnto ȝour landis and thir costis seik.Schir Dardanus born of this cuntre eikDesiris hiddir to return agane;And with commandmentis strait, ful mony ane,Appollo chargit ws to sper bedeneTo Tybyr, flowand in the sey Tirrene,And to the fontane and the strandis cleirOf Numycus, the hallowit fresch ryver.And forthir eik our prince hes to the sentOf his ald fortoun bot a smal present,The sobir levyngis rest from Troys fyre.Into this cowp of gold Anchises hys syreAt the altar was wont to sacrify;And of the gret kyng Pryam, mast douchty,This was the cheif dyademe our the laif,With quham he crownyt sat and domys gaif;Hys ceptre als, and eik his tyar hat,Hallowit quharwith at sacrifice he sat;And this was eik hys precius rob ryall,By Troiane ladeis wrocht and brusyt all.Herand sic wordis of Ilioneus,Ful stil his vissage haldis Latynus;Hys syght onmovyt to the erd dyd he prent,Witht eyn rollyng, and erys rycht attent.The brusyt purpour movis hym na thing,Nor Priamus ceptour sa sar steris the kyng,As that he musys thochtfull gretumlyApon his douchteris spousage and ally,And in his mind gan cumpas oft infeirHis fader Faunus respons and answer;Thynkand this ilk Eneas semyt to beThe self stranger, quham fatale destaneeSignyfeit tocum furth of ane vncouth sted,Tobe his son in law, and forto ledEquale dignite with him in that ryng,Ful of souerane vertu, quhais ofspringBy thar power suld joys and occupyThe haill warld vndre thar senȝeory.And at the last, eftir ful lang musyng,Witht joyus cheir on this wys said the kyng:The goddis ȝour begynnyng furthir and speid,And thar pronosticatioun manifest in deid.I grant thyne axyng, Troiane messynger,And ȝour rewardis ressauys in thank; for heirȜe be all hartlie welcum, trastis me:So lang as levys kyng Latyn in this cuntre,The riches of mast plentuus fertil grundȜe sal nocht want, that in this realm is fund,Ne ȝit nane othir welth, weilfar, and joy,Quhilkis ȝe war wont to bruke and haue in Troy.Bot, at the lest, ȝe caus ȝour prince Enee,Gyf that so gretlie he desiris tobeWith ws confiderat intil allyance,Or gif he langis, but langar discrepans,Within our palyce to entir befor othir,And be clepit our companȝeoun or brother,Dwel no langar, bot cum hidder in haist,Ne skar not at his frendis face as a gaist.For the mast part of our convene and bandTo me salbe to twich ȝour kyngis hand.And now agane ȝe sal, turnand ȝour went,Bar to ȝour prince this my charge and commandment.I haue a douchter quham responsis, schawFurth of my faderis oratory law,And mony feirful takynnys of the hevinBe diuers ways schawin, and fyry levin,Wil not suffir at scho in wedlok beGevin ontil a man of our cuntre;Bot all the spaymen declaris, by and byThar suld cum to remane in Italy,Fra strange costis, to be our son in law,A douchty man, vnkouth and onknaw,Quhilk, of his lynage and posterite,Our name abufe the sternys sal vphie.Gyf that my mynd can ocht ymagn rycht,I weyn that he suld be the sammyn knycht,And glaidly wald, with al my hartis desire,The werdys tharto callit that rial syre.This beand sayd, the kyng Latyn, but faill,Gart cheis of al his stedis furth the waill:Thre hundreth mylk quhite hors and fare had he,Seysit and fed in stalwart stallis hie.For euery Troiane per ordour thar the kyngWith purpour howsouris bad a cursur bring:Thar brusyt trappuris and patrellis reddy bovne,With goldin bruchis hang from thar brestis dovne;Thar harnessing of gold rycht deirly dicht;Thai runge the goldin mollettis burnyst bright.Ontil Eneas als, thar prynce absent,A ryal chair richly arrayit he sent,With twa stern stedis tharin ȝok infeir,Cummyn of the kynd of hevinly horssis wer,At thar neys thirlys the fyre fast sneryng owt;Of the ilke stok and stude sprungyn, but dowt,Quhilk Circes, crafty and engenyus,And mar subtell than evir was Dedalus,Be a quent way fra hir awin fader staw,Makand his stedis byleip meris onknaw,That by hir sle consait and wily myndSik maner horsis engendrit of bastard kynd.

CAP. V

Juno, persavand the Troianys beild a town,For greif and dolour like to swelt and swoun.Wyth sik giftis Eneas messyngeris,And of kyng Latyn with joyful answeris,Returnys, montit hie on hors ilk ane,Of peax and concord bodword brocht agane.Bot lo, the spous of Jove, cruell Juno,The self tyme can return fro Arge tho;The quhilk cuntre, of nobill brute and fame,From Innachus the kyng has tak his name;And has careit throu the ayr puyr,Quhilk is hyr proper regioun. As scho furDown from the skyis, on far can do spyOf the heland Pachynnus in Scycilly;Beheld the Troiane navy stand on raw,And Eneas blyth and glaid scho sawOf the joyus bodword onto him brocht,That bissely, with all the haist he mocht,Inforcis thar herbry and strenth to beld,Than all assurit of this land and feld,And thar schippis left desolate and waist.In extasy scho stude, and mad almaist:In suddand dolour smyttin wonder smert,Can schak hir hed, with harmys at hir hart,And of hir breist thir wordis warpis in hy:Och, kynd of pepill haitfull and onworthy!For all the willis and the fatis TroianeBene to our mynd and destaneis euer agane.Mycht thai nocht all haue bene slane in Troy feildis?Mycht thai nocht all haue swelt thar vnder scheildis?Ar thai nocht venquist and ourcum ilk ane?Quhat! may nocht thir presoneris agane be tane?Hes nocht Troy all infyrit ȝit thame brynt?Na: all sic laubour is fornocht and tynt.Haue thai nocht fund, forto eschape awayThrow myd fyre, and myd ostis, sovir way?So trast I now at last my fors and mychtisLyis dolf and irkit be ȝon cative wightis:Insaciate of haitrent, I rest in pes,That was so bald afor, and nevir wald ces,Quhen thai war chasyt of thar natyve land,To sturt thame on the streme fra hand to hand,And to persew tha flemyt vavengourisThrow all seys, my self, ilk tyde and howris.Agane Troianys consumyt are be meThe strenth of all the hevynnys and the see.Quhat proffittit me Syrtis, that sowkand sand,Or ȝit Scilla, the swelch is ay rowtand?Or quhat avalit Caribdis bisme huge?Ar thai not stakit at rest, and weil lugeIn the desirit sond of Tybris bay,Assoverit of the sey, and hes na frayOf me, ne of my malice and fant thocht?The stern pepil Lapythos bryng to nocht,And quyt distroy, mycht Mars for his offens:Was it nocht eik grantit in recompensTo Dyan, by the fader of goddis ichone,To wrek hir greif in ancyent Calidone?Quhat falt maid the Lapythos or trespas,Or Calidon, at sa sar punyst was?Abuf myssour forsuyth thai chastyit war.Bot I, the spous of the gret Jupiter,Quhilk sa onhappy al ways I mycht fyndThame til ennoy consait lest nocht behynd,Quhilk hes myself in propir person eikTurnyt and writhit all wentis I couth seik,Am now venquist be a man, this Ene.Bot, gif my power nocht sufficient be,Or gret eneuch, quhy suld I dreid or sparTo purches help, fursuyth, atour alquhar?Gif I may nocht the hevinly goddis inclyneTo my purpos, I sal seik forthir syneTo thame that far doun into Achiron dwell,And sall commove that depast pyt of hell.I put the cace, that I may nocht opteneFrom Latyn land thame to expel al clene,Bot be the fatis immovabill destane,Lavynya remanys spous to Ene:Ȝit at lest thar may fall stop or delayIn sa gret materis, for a ȝeir or twa;And lefull is it eik of athir kyngThe retennew in batale down to dyng.Lat the eldfar and mawch knyt vp frendschipBe price of thar pepillis and falloschip.With gret effusioun of the blude Troiane,And sammyn of pepill Rutiliane,Thou salbe saisyt, madyn, to dowry;Bellona, goddes of batale, sal stand by,Tobe convoyar of the mariage.Nevir Heccuba, of Cisseus lynage,Quhilk, bund with child, dremyt scho dyd furth bringA gleid of fyre, or hait brand lycht byrnyng,Was deliuer of sik flambis, but faill,As thou sal ber, and fyris coniugale;And forthir eik, this Venus proper birth,And secund Paris, Ene, litill wirth,Sal rays and kyndill dedly flambe aganeOf hait fyre brondis amang the wallis Troiane.Fra this was said, with horribill mynd in haistDoun to the erth scho socht, and the laith gaistFurth of hir set and myrk dongeoun of hellScho dyd provoke, and callys with a ȝellAne of the sory furyus sisteris thre,Alecto, quhilk causis all myschefe tobe,And evir mar desiris of hir kynd,And hes full grene enprentit in hir myndThe dedly batalis, and the dolorus wer,Stryfe and dissait, harm and discordis seir.This fendlych hellys monstre TartareaneIs hatit with hir other sisteris ilkane,And Pluto eik, the fader of hellis see,Reputtis that bysmyng belch haitfull to se;Into samony grisly formys seirScho dois hir self translate, and of sik feirBene hir cruell schappis and vissage,Sa fowle and laithly all hir personage,That, for hir pilis, and in sted of hir hair,Feil snakis springis our hir body alquhar.Quhilk fury quent, of kynd sa peralus,Juno tystis to myscheif, sayand thus:Do to me, virgyn, dochtir of the dyrk nycht,This a seruice, thy proper wark be richt,Do me this laubour, quhilk is thyne of det,That our honouris and fame be nocht ourset,Ne ȝit subdewit into sik a placeAs with ȝone Troianys, standis voyd of grace:Lat nevir Ene so prowdly to opteneThe spousage of Latinus douchter schene,And, by na way, lat nevir his feris weldA fut braid of Italiane grond nor feld.Thou can brethir of ane assent mony ȝerisAganyst other enarm in mortale weris;Thou may ourturn with haitrent and with strifeThe hail houshald, the man agane his wife;Thou may skurgyng and strakis in lugyngis rays,And thou of frendis may mak mortale fays,And dedly fyrbrondis kyndill in thak and rwys;A thousand namys thou has that na man luffis,A thousand ways folkis to ennoy and schent.Knok on thy brudy breist at myne entent;Brek and cast doun thar concord maid of new;Causys of stryfe and batale I wald thou sew;Gar all the power, and euerilk stowt ȝounkeir,First in thar myndis desire to move the weir,Syne cry, and ask armys and batale all,And rusch tharto forsely gret and small.

CAP. VI

Alecto, throw persuasion of Juno,Queyn Amata al wytles gart sche go.This cruel monstre, Alecto, onaneInfect with feil vennom Gorgonyane,Socht first to Latyum, and the chymmys heeOf Lawrentyn, the kyngis cheif cite,And prevely begouth awach and lowrAbout his spous quene Amatais bour;Quhilk, all inflambit in ire and wifely thochtisOf this new come of Troianys, all on flocht is,The bissy curis of Turnus mariageSkaldyng hir breist and mynd half in a rage.Thys wikkyt Goddes towart hir alsfastAne of hir slymy serpent haris dyd cast,Deip in hir bosum leyt inslip with slycht,Amyd hir hart pipis or precordialis lycht;That be this ilk monstris instigatiounWod wraith scho suld perturble al the toun.Thys eddir, slyding owr slekit bodeis softOf thir ladeis, amang thar wedis oftWent thrawin so that nane felt quhar scho glidis,The furyus queyn dissauyng on athir sydis,And in hir mynd can blaw and kyndill syneAne felloun greif or curage serpentyne.The grysly serpent sum tyme semyt tobeAbout hir hals a lynkit gold chenȝe;And sum tyme of hir curche, lap with a waif,Becum the selvage, or bordour of hir quafe;Sum tyme hir hed lays, forto knyt hir hair;Ful slyde sche slippis hir membris our alquhar.Sone as the first infectioun a litil weOf slymy vennom inȝet quently had sche,Than scho begouth hir wittis to assale,And depe amyd hir banys forto skaillAnd multiply the rage or byrnand fury;For ȝit nocht all our hyr breist cruellyThe spreit hes felt the flambe frenettical:Quharfor the mar sobirly furth with all,Eftir the commoun custum and vsageOf ald matronys in thar wyld dotage,With huge complaynt for hir dochter and regrate,And Troiane wedlok contrar hir consate,Thus said scho weping, and that ful petuusly:O fader kyng Latyn, quhy wilt thou, quhy?Quhat! sal our child, Lavynya the may,To banyst men be geif to leid away?Nowdir hes thou of thy tendir get piete,Ne ȝit compassioun of thy self, ne meHir moder, quham sa sone, full dissolate,Ȝone fals sey revar wil leif in sturt, God wayt,And cary the maid our the deip fludis haw,Alssone as evir the first north wynd dois blaw?Was it nocht evin be sik a fenȝeit gyrdQuhen Parys furth of Phryge, the Troiane hyrd,Socht to the cite Laces in Sparta,And thar the dochter of Lydea stal awa,The fair Helyn, and to Troy tursyt raith?Quhat sal avale ȝour faith and hallowit aith?Quhat of ȝour ancyent purvyance, schir kyng,That ȝe had of ȝour frendis and ofspring?Quhat of ȝour richt hand, hald sa gloryus,Sa feil syth gevin to our cousyng Turnus?Gyf that thou sekis ane alienar onknaw,Tobe thy mawch or thy gud son in law,And hes that thing determyt in thy hed,Constrenyt tharto by the command and redOf thy fader Fawnus: as to that gate,Heir a litil my fantasy and consate.All cuntre onsubieckit vnder our wand,It may be clepit ane oncouth strange land,And al at thar indwellis alienaris bene;Of sik strangeris the goddis spak, I weyn.And gyf we list seik forthir mar, ȝit thanTo compt the first begynnyng of Turnus clan,Inachus and Achrysyus, but weir,Twa kyngis of Grece, his forfaderis wer;Thus is he Greik, to compt his greis a pece,And cum of Myce the myddil realm of Grece.Eftir at the quene with sik wordis, all for nocht,Assayt had kyng Latyn, as scho mocht,And fand at he resistit hyr entent,The furyus poyson than of the serpentDeip in hir breist and entralis swiftly ȝeid,And dyd our all partis of hir body spreid;So that, forsuyth, cacchit onhappelyWith hydduus monstreis, gan scho ryn and cryThrow owt the large cite in wild dotage,But resson, strikkin with the nymphis rage.As sum tyme sclentys the round tap of tre,Hyt with the twynyt quhip dois quhirl, we se,Quham childyr dryvis bissy at thar playAbowt the clos and voyd hallis all day;Scho smyttyn with the tawys dois rebound,And rynnys about, abowt, in cirkill round;The wytles sort of forsaid babbys ȝyngStudeis awondrit of sa nyce a thing,This turnyt tre so all that berdles rowtFerleis to se swa sleip and quhirl abowt,And all thar mynd settis it to cach and dryve:Na slawar went Amata, the kyngis wife,Throw owt the myd citeis of Latyn land,And throu the fers pepill, fra hand to hand.And forthir eik, onto the woddis greneWith swyft fard cacchys furth this quene,Fenȝeand the rage of Bacchus, and gret mycht,A mar myschefe forto controve and slycht,And grettar fury swyth scho can begyn,Hyr douchter hyd thir woddy hillys within;Tharby the Troiane spousage to delay,Stop and prolong thar fest and brydell day.Scho schowtis, hey, how! Bacchus, god of wyne,Thow only art worthy to haue our virgyne;And this with lovd voce cryis and schowtis sche.To the, Bacchus, scho rasyt eik on hieGret lang speris, as thai standartis wer,With wyne tre branchis wippit on thar maner;To the scho led ryng sangis in caralyng,To the hir hair addressit leit down hyng.The fame heirof wyde our all dyd spreid,Quhill at the last the sammyn fury can spreidIn all the matronys brestis of the land:Cacchit with fors tha flok fra hand to hand,Thar howsis thai forhow and levis waist,And to the woddis socht as thai war chaist,And leit thar nekkis and hayr blaw with the wynd;Sum othiris went ȝelland vnder the lynd,Quhill all the skyis of thar scryke fordynnys;And sum, war cled in pylchis of fowne skynnys,Into thar handis rasyt vp on hieThe lang stowris, wond with the sweit wyne tre.Amyd thame all the queyn Amata gais,And fersly dyd a byrnand fyrr tre rays,And of hir douchter eik and of Turnus ȝyngThe wedding sangis and ballettis dyd scho syng,With bludy eyn rollyng full thrawynly;Oft and rycht schrewitly wald scho clepe and cry,Owt harro! matronys, quharso evir ȝe be,All Latyn wyfis harkis now to me:Gif ony favouris or frendschip ȝit remanysIn ȝour devote brestis, amangis thir planys,Of the onhappy mother Amata,Gif ony thocht remordis ȝour myndis alssuaOf the effectuus piete maternall;Lows hed bandis, schake down ȝour haris all,Walk in this wod heir caraland with me,Syng Bacchus sangis, sen na bettir may be.

CAP. VII

Quhou Alecto persuadit hes TurnusTo move batale incontrar Latinus.Alecto thus, amang the woddis dern,Mony wild bestis den and depe cavern,Into sic rage this ilk queyn AmataWith Bacchus fury cacchis to and fra.And eftir that this wikkit fals goddesThocht scho had scharpit weill eneuch, I ges,The first fury of sa dolorus rage,Fortyll distrubbill the forsaid mariage,And quyte pervert or turnyt top our taillLatynus howshald, purpos, and counsale;But mar delay, with wallowit weyngis scheWiskis from thyne onto the wallis hieOf the curageus Rutiliane Turnus:Quhilk cite the douchter of Acrysyus,Fair Danas, fundyt for hir men and hir,Drevin to that cost with the south wyndis bir:Quhilk sted was sum quhile clepit Ardea,Fra Ardea, a fowle, ȝit namyt swa,And, to this day, the forsaid riall hameBe fortoun brukis of Ardea the name.Within tha hyghty boundis Turnus rychtLay still at rest amyddis the dirk nycht.Alecto hir thrawin vissage dyd away,All furyus membris laid apart and array,And hir in schap transformyt of a trat,Hyr forret skorit with runclys and mony rat;And with a vaill ourspred hir lyard hair,A branch of olyve tharto knyttis ȝare:Of Junoys tempill semyt scho tobeThe nun and trattes, clepit Calybe.Befor the visage of this stowt ȝong knychtPresent hir self, with thir wordis on hicht:Turnus, quhat! wylt thou suffir this ondocht,Thy lang travale and laubour be for nocht,And thy ceptre and crown delyuerit beTo ȝon banyst new cum Troiane menȝe?The kyng Latyn the spousage of Lavyne,And thy dowry, bocht with thy blude and pyne,Denyis forto grant the, or ellis ocht;And to succeid in his realm hes besochtAne alienar, born of ane oncouth land.Pas now thy way, and set the to ganestandThir perellis, but all thankis or gaynȝeld;Sen thou art mokkit, go, down bet in seldThe ostis of Hethruria, and syneDefend in peax and rest the folk Latyne.Almychty Saturnus douchtir aluterly,As thou be nycht thus doith at quiet ly,Bad me schaw planely all thir thingis to the.Haue done therfor, assembil this cuntre,Addres thy sensabill men in thar array,Enarmyt glaidly move and hald ȝour wayTowart the portis or havynnys of the see,And set apon ȝon sam Troiane menȝe;Dryve thar chiftanys of this land, but hone,Thar pantit carvellis byrn; so to be doneThe gret power of hevynly Goddis dyvyneCommandit hes, decret, and determyne.Lat kyng Latynus feil to his awyn harmys,And haue experiens of the, Turnus, in armys,Bot he the grant to wife his child Lavyne,And kepe to the hys promys and convyne.The ȝyng man mokkand at the prophetes,Herand sic speche, answeris with mouth expres:It standis not so as thou wenys, but weris;The messynger is nocht gone by myne erys,Full lang or now, quhou that a strange navyArryvit in this Tibris streme fast by.Fenȝe na cawsis me fortill effray;Weyn not me list my purpos leif na way,Nor ryall Juno, quene of realmys all,List our querrell forȝet, nor thoil we fall.Bot, O ald dame, thy vile onweldy age,Ourset with hasart hair and faynt dotage,Quhilk voyd is of all treuth and verite,In sic curys invane occupyis the,And the dissavis, as prophet, be fals dreid,That gevis thi mynd tharon thou has na heid,As forto treyt of batalis betwix kyngis:Thyne occupatioun standis on othir thingis,Quhilk suld haue cure of nocht alanerlyBot goddis tempillis and ymagis to spy:Thoill men of pes and wer carp and rehers,Quhamto pertenys the batalis to exers.At sic wordis Alecto, hait as fyre,Brynt in hir fury rage and felloun ire,So that, the ȝong man spekand, suddanlyThe trymlyng hynt all membris of his body;His eyn stud abasyt in his hed;This hellis monstre, full of wreth and fed,Hyssyt and quhislyt with sa feill eddir sondis,And hir figour sa grysly gret abundis,With glowrand eyn byrnand of flawmys blak.Turnus awondryng styntis and drawis abak;And, as he purposit mekill mar to say,Insted of haris scho rasit vp serpentis tway,And of hir scurge the sound scho made him heir;With rageand mouth syne said and fellown beir:Behaldis this my vile onweldy age,Ourset with hasart hair and faynt dotage,Quham eild, void of al trewth and verite,Be fals dreid dissavys so, quod sche,As forto treyt of batale betwix kyngis:Behald gif it so be, consider thir syngis;Lo me present, ane of the sisteris thre,Infernal fureis of feirfull hellis see;Se, I bar in my handis and powerThe ded of batalis and the mortale were.And sayand thus, at this ilk fers ȝyng knychtAne hait fyre brand kest scho byrnand brycht,And in hys breste this furyus lemand schideWith dedly smok fixit deyp can hyde.The huge dreid with this dissoluyt his slepe,Our all his body bristing furth dyd crepeThe warm swait throw euery lith and bane,And all enragit can eftir harnes frane;Armour, all wytles, in his bed sekis he,Armour, our all the lugyng law and hie.The gret curage of irne wapynnys can waidCruell and wild, and all his wyt invaidIn wikkit wodnes batale to desire,Quharon he byrnys hait in felloun ire:Lyke as quhen that the ingill of stikkis dryWith blesand sownd is layd to by and by,About the sydis of the pot playing,The licour sparklis for the heyt bulyng;Within, the fervent bullyr violentOf watir makyng reky froith vpsprent;So swellis vp the skum and bellis bedene,The veschell may na mar the broth contene,Bot furth it poplys in the fyre heir and thar,Quhill vp fleys the blak stew in the air.And for alsmekill as Turnus thus was stad,The gretast of hys chiftanys go he badTo kyng Latyn, and him declar, but wer,The paix was brokyn, and he wald move the were:To graith thar armour fast commandis he,To defend Ital, and of thar awin cuntreThar ennemys expell and dryve; as ȝitHe was eneuch for baith, he leyt thame wyt,Baith to recuntyr the Latynys and Troianys.Quhen this was said, and, on sik wys as ganys,The goddis callit tobe in thar helping,Than bissely Rutilianys, our all thing,Can athir othir fast exhort and prayOn thar best wys for werfar to purvay.Sum the maste semly farrand personageTistys to the feild, to preif his grene curage;Sum on his ȝouthhed, and his thewes gude;Sum is movit throw hys ryall blude,For his progenitouris noble kyngis wer;And sum war eik inducit to the weirFor hie prowes knawin in ilke landis,And dedis wrocht maste knychtly with his handis.