The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

CAP. VII

Ontil Eneas Venus armour requirisFra Wlcanus, quhilk grantis hir desiris.The nycht approchis with hir weyngis gray,Ourspred the erd, and put all lycht away;Quhen Venus moder till Ene efferd,And not but caus, seand the felloun rerd,The dreidfull bost and assemly attanysAganys hir son of pepill Laurentanys,To Wlcanus, hir husband and gud man,Within hys goldyn chalmyr scho beganThus forto spek, and with hir wordis the fyreOf dyvyne luf can towartis hym inspire.Quod sche, quhil that the kyngis of Grece and ArgeDown bet the Troiane wallys wyde and large,That destinat war, bath towr, town, and wall,Of ennemys be flambys to down fall,Na help onto thai wrachit folkis I socht,Nane armour axit, nor thy craft besocht,Nor the, my deirest spows, exers bad IThy craft, nor wark invane wald occupy:Albeit that to the childring of Pryam kyngI was bedettit into mekill thing,And the ontollerabill laubour of EneeBewalit oft wepand ful fair, quod sche,Quhilk now by Jovis power stad remanysWithin the boundys of Rutilyanys.Quharfor this tyme I, thy ilk spows and wyve,Thy blissyt godhed, derrest to me on lyve,Cummys lawly to beseik and requerFor wapynnys, harnes, armour, and sic ger;For my deir son I, moder, prays the:Sen Nereus douchter, Thetys, mycht, quod sche,Induce the till enarm hir son Achill,And eik Tythonus spous, at hir awin will,Aurora, with hir terys so the brakFortill enarm hir child Memnon the blak.Behald quhat pepill, lo, assemblit bene,Quhat wallit townys with ȝettis closyt in teynGryndys thar wapynnys aganis me and myne,To bring ws to distructioun and rewyne.Thus said the goddes, and in hir milk quhite armysFul tendirly belappys him and warmys,Quhil that he musys so, that hait fyre sleOf lufe bekend onon ressauyt he;The natural heit into the merch dyd glyde,Persand the banys maid soft on every syde:Nane other wys than as, sum tyme, we seThe schynand brokkyn thundris lychtnyng fleWyth subtil fyry stremys throu a ryft,Persand the watry clowdis in the lift.Venus hys spows, confiding in hir bewte,Ful glaid persavys that hym caucht had sche.The fader than Vlcanus, god abuf,Lokkyt in the eternal cheyn of luf,Answerd and said; quharfor, myne awin hart deir,Sa far about thou glosys thy mater?Quhy axis thou nocht planely thy desire?Quhiddir is becum of me, thy lord and syre,The ferm confidence thou suld haue, Goddes?Quhat nedyt mor bot schaw thy mynd expres?Gyf siclike curis and desire had beneInto thy mynd that sammyn tyme, I meynDuryng the subuertioun of Troys ryng,To ws it had bene bot a lesum thingTroianys til haue enarmyt at thy request:Nowder the fader almychty at the lest,Ne ȝit the fatis contrary dyd ganestand,Bot Troys cite mycht haue langar stand,So that kyng Priamus ryng, by our power,Mycht haue remanyt fully othir ten ȝeir.And now, gif thou the grathis forto fecht,And tharto be thy mynd set, I the hechtAll maner thing, with solist diligens,That may be wrocht in my craft or sciens,Or ȝit may be forgit in irne or steill,Or moltyn mettal graif and burnyst weill.Sa far as fyre, and wynd, and hie engyne,Into our art may cumpas or dyvyne.Tharfor desist of thi strenth to haue dreid,Or me to pray in ocht at thou hes neyd;For in sic cacis thar nedis na request:Am I nocht reddy to fulfill thy behest?Thir wordis beyng said, this hait syreGan hir enbrasyng al at his desyre,And, lappit to hys spowsys breist in armys,The plesand natural sleip, to beit his harmys,And eys hys wery membris, can he tak.Syne as he had slummyrrit bot a snak,Quhen the first silence of the quyet nychtHys myddil curs and cirkill run had rycht,Provokyng folk of the first sleip awaik:Lyke as the puyr wife, quhilk at evin had raikHyr ingill, rysys forto beit hir fyre,As scho that hes nane other rent nor hyreBot with hir rok and spynnyng forto thryve,And tharwithall sustene hir enty lyve;Hir day wark to encres, or scho may se,Thartill a part of the nycht ekis sche,And at the candill lycht hir handys tway,And eik hir pur damysellis, as scho may,Natly exercis forto wirk the lyne,To snoif the spyndill, and lang thredis twyne,Quharby scho mycht sustene hir powerte,Kepe chaist hir spowsys bed in honeste,And tharwith eik foster hir childer lyte:The mychty God of fyre this tyme als tyte,And no slawar, bot on the sam maner,Furth of hys bed startis, and hynt his geir,And to hys smyddy craft and forge hym spedis.Thar standis ane ile, with reky stanys as gledis,Vpstrekyng hie betwix the cost SycilleAnd Lyparen, god Eolus wyndis ille:Vndre the quhilk byg iland in the seeAne coif thar is, and hyrnys feill thar be,Lyke till Ethna holkyt in the mont,By the Ciclopes fornace worn or bront,That makys rumlyng, as quha dyd thunder heir,The bustuus dyntis on the styddeys seir;Ane huge dyn and noys the strayke doyth mak.The irne lumpys in tha cavys blakCan byss and quhissill, and the hait fyreDoith fuf and blaw in blesys byrnand schire:Quhilk forges bene Wlcanus duellyng call,And eftir Wlcan that cuntre nemmyt all.The mychty God of fyre dovn from the hevinInto this forsaid ile discendit evin,Quhar as, intill hys large and gowsty caif,The hydduus Ciclopes forgit furth and draif,Brontes, Steropes, and nakyt Pyracmon,The glowand irne to well and peyn onon.The fyreflaucht, ȝyt nocht formyt perfitely,Quhilk the fader of godis oft throw the skyFrom euery art dovn in the erth doys cast,Thai had into thar handys wirkand fast;That ane part polist, burnyst weill and dycht,Thar other party not perfytit rycht.Thre rawys wel tha of the frosyn hail schour,Thre of the watry clowd, to eik the stowr,Thre blesys of the byrnand fyris brycht,With thre blastis of the south wyndis lyght:Syne to thar wark, in maner of gun powder,Thai myddillyt and thai myxit this feirful sowder,A grysly sound, gret dreid, and goddis ire,Quham followys ay the fel flambys of fyre.Ane other sort ful bissely to MartThe rynnyng quhelys forgis, and weir cart,Quharwith the men to batale doys he steir,And movys citeis to rays mortal weir:Thai dycht and polys egirly alssuaThe horribill terget, bustuus Egyda,Quhilk is the grevyt Pallas grysly scheild,With serpent scalys puldrit in goldyn feild,Togidder lynkyng lowpyt edderis twa;And in the breist of the goddes graif thaiGorgones hed, that monstre of gret wondir,With eyn wawland, and nek bane hak in sondyr.Away with this, ȝhe Ethna Ciclopes,Quod Wlcanus, and all sic warkis ses,And at I say enprentis in ȝour thocht.Ontill a forcy man ar tobe wrochtHarnes and armour: now nedis it, quod he,Ȝour strenth exers and pythis schaw; lat seQuha nymlyast can cum and turn thar handis;Now on all master poynt of craft it standis:Do put away in haist all maner delay.Na mair he said; bot wondir frakly thaiOnto thar laubour can thame all addres,Assignand euery man hys part expres:The irne the mettal throw thir cundyttis flowys,The moltyn gold and weirlyk steil hait glowys,And furth of gousty furnace fundyt ran.Maste craftely to forgyng thai beganA huge gret semly target, or a scheild,Quhilk only mycht resistyng into feildAgane the dynt of Latyn wapynnys all;In euery place sevin ply thai welt and call.Sum can ressaue the glowand heyt, sum wyndWith blawand bellys bet the fyre behynd;Sum of the trowch apon the sparkand gledisThe byssand watir strynklys and ourspredis.The huge coif and all the mont within,For strak of stydeys, can resound and dyn.Amangis thame self thai grisly smythys gretWith mekil fors dyd forge, peyn, and bet,And can thar armys hesyng vp and dovnIn nowmyr and in dew proportioun,And with the grippand turcas oft alssoThe glowand lump thai turnyt to and fro.

CAP. VIII

Evander telland Eneas thingis seir,Vlcanus armour dyd in the sky appeir.Quhil that the fader of Lemnos, Wlcanus,Within the boundis of wyndy EolusTo wyrk this geir hastis on euery syde,The blissull lycht ayrly at morrow tyde,And myrthfull sangis of the byrdis bay,The swallow, syngis on the ruf hir lay,Awalknyt kyng Evander, and maid rysWithin his sobir chymmys quhar he lyis.Vpstart the ald, and cled hym in hys cote,Apon his feyt hys meit schoys hoteWar buklyt on the gys of Tuscany;Syne our hys schuldris, down hys myddil by,Hyngis buklyt hys trasty swerd Arcaid;From hys left arm, about the rycht syde layd,Ywymplyt was the spottit pantheris skyn:Hys twa keparis can furth by hym rynFrom the hie palyce, bustuus hundis two,That haldis thar lordis pays quhar evir he go.Furth held this heir the secret prevy wayTowart the sted quhar as Eneas lay,His Troiane gest, ramembring al at rychtHys help and promys grantit ȝister nyght.On the sam wys, at morow ful ayrly,Eneas hastis vp, and mycht nocht ly.The kyng only bot with his son Pallas,Achates with Eneas accumpaneit was.Thai jonyt handis sone as thai war met,And syne amyd the chalmer doun thame set.Quhar, finaly, thai fel in commonyngOf secret materis and attentik thing.The kyng begouth, and said first til Ene:Maist souerane ledar of Troiane cumpane,Quha beand on lyfe nevir grant I sallTroy is distroyt, nor castyn doun the wall,Nor ȝit the Troiane power put at vnder;We haue bot sobir pissance, and no wonder,To help in batale, and to mak suppleOnto so hie excellent maieste:On this half closyt with the Tuscane flude;On ȝonder syde ar the Rutylianys rude,Nyddris our boundis, as full oft befallis,With thar harnes clatteryng about our wallis.Bot I purpos adione to the ononA huge pepill, and landis mony one,Ostis of fertill realmys neir fast by.O fortoun, or we wist, so happelyThou schawist the in our help and supple!And O maste douchty campioun Ene,Desyrit of the destany and fatis,Heir ȝe be weill arryvit many gatis!Fundyt of ald stanys, not far hyne,Inhabyt stand the cite Agyllyne;Quhar that the worthy pepill Lydyane,Vailȝeant in batale, duellis and dois remaneApon the egge of the Hetruscan hillys.Thir folkis all in lykyng at thar willisThis land inhabyt, vale, mont, and swyre;Quhil fynaly, ful prowd in his empyre,Mezentyus begouth thar tobe kyng,And in gret fors of armys tharon ryng.Suld I rehers the ontellabil myscheif,The cruel dedis, slauchter, and huge greifOf that tyrant, quhilk ȝit the goddis dyngApon hys hed reseruys and ofspring!For he, besyde his othir wikkyt deyd,The quyk bodeis, speldit furth on breid,Adionyt to the corps and caryoun ded,Layd hand to hand, baith face to face and hed,Quhil quyk mowthis dyd ded mowthis kys:O, quhat maner of torment call ȝe this!Droppand in worsum and filth laithly to se,So miserabilly enbrasyng, thus wys heBy lang proces of ded can thame sla.Quhil, at the laft, of this ennoy and waHys citesanys irkyt, syne in a rowtEnarmyt ombeset his mans abowt:Hym al enragit on his wild manerBesegit thai, and of his complicis seirHes slane onon, and all in pecis hakkit,And fyre blesis on his hie biggingis swakkit.Amyd the slauchter, on cace, eschapit he,And to the feildis Rutilyane can fle,Quhar intill armys, be Turnus hys ost,He hym begouth defend apon that cost.Quharfor Hetrurya all, full justlyAggrevyt, rays in armys by and by,Onto punytioun and all tormentis seirThar kyng to ask, and seik in feir of weir.To thir mony thousand pepill, quod he,Souerane ledar I sal the jone, Ene.For now thar schippys ful thik reddy standis,Brayand endlang the costis of thir landis;Thai byd display thar baneris owt of faldis;Bot ane ancyent dyvynour thame withhaldis,Schawand the fatale godly destyne:O ȝe mast valȝeand ȝong gallandis, quod he,And pepill cummyn from Meonya,Ȝhe that bene flour of chevalry alssua,The vertu and the strenth of vassallageOf ancestry and men of ȝour lynnage,Quham just dolour steris on this wys,Baldly aganys ȝour ennemys to rys;All thocht Mezentyus, to hys myscheif,Hes weil deservit aganys hym ȝour greifThus in commotioun forto rays and steyr,Ȝyt neuertheles belevys, owt of weir,So gret a pepill, as vnder Turnus kyngAnd Latynus leyndis, forto down thryngOnlesum is till ony Italyane:Ȝow behuffis to seik a strange chiftane.Of Hetrurya the ostis vnder scheildWith that word stoppit in the sammyn feild,Of the goddis admonysyng all effrayt.Tarchon hym self, thar duke, lyst not delay it,Bot to me send ambassatouris all bovn,Offerand to me the ceptre and the crovnOf al thar realm, and thar ensenȝeis brocht,Requyryng me that I refusyt nochtTocum and be chiftane of thar army,The realm Tyrrheyn eik to ressaue in hy.Bot my febill and slaw onweldy age,The dasyt blude gane far by the hait rage,Or than the owtworn dait and mony ȝeris,With fors falȝeit to hant the strang weris,Envyis that I suld joys or bruke empyre.My son Pallas, this ȝong lusty syre,Exhort I wald to tak the steir on hand,Ne war that of the blude of this ilk landAdmixit standis he, takand sum strynd,Apon his moderis syde, of Sabyne kynd.Bot thou, quham baith thi ȝeris and thi bludeThe fatis favouris, and is so concludeBy the goddis abufe as, owt of weir,Tobe callyt and schaip for this mater,Go to the batal, campyoun maste forcy,The Troianys baith and Italyanys to gy.And forthir eik, this sammyn ȝyng Pallas,Our son, our hope, our comfort, and solace,I sal adione in falloschip, quod he,As his master, to exers vndre the,And lern the fayt of knychtly chevalry,Hard marcyall dedis hantyng by and by,Tobe accustummyt and behald thy feris,For wondyr followyng thy warkis in ȝyng ȝeris.Twa hundreth walyt hors men, wight and stern,Of Arcad, sal I geif onto that bern;And of hys awyn behalf, in thy supple,Als mony Pallas sal promyt to the,Quhilk in the hail may weill four hundreth bene.Skant this was said, quhen, castyng dovn his eyn,Trast Achates, and Anchyses son Ene,Sat starrand on the grond, baith he and he,And in thar hartis dyd full oft compasFul mony hard aduersyte and cace,With drery cheir and myndis sad bath twa;Ne war Venus, lady Citherea,Dovn from the hevin of comfort to thame sentAne oppyn takyn, cleir and evident.For suddanly thai se, or thai be war,The fyreslaucht betyng from the lyft on far,Cum with the thundris hydduus rumlyng blast,Semyng the hevyn suld fall and all doun cast;The ayr onon can dynnyng vp and dounWith brag of weir and Tyrreyn trumpys sovn.Thai lysnyng to persaue and heir the dyn,Ay mar and mar agane it dyd begynTo rerd and rattill apon a feirfull wys:Quhill at the last thai se and al espyisThrow the cleir sky and regioun of the hevyn,Amang the clowdis, brycht as fyry levyn,The glitterand armour burnyst lemand schene,And, as thai schuke, thar rays thunder bedene.Abasyt in thar myndis worth the laif;Bot this lord Troiane knew and did persaveFull weil the sound, and all the cace expres,Be promys of hys moder the Goddes;Syne can rehers it plane, and thus gaitis said:Forsuyth, forsuyth, my gentill ost, be glaid,The nedis not to ask, ne ȝit to speirQuhat signyfyis thir wondris dyd appeir:For I am callyt to the hevin, quod he.The haly moder, my genitryce, schew meThat sic a takyn suld be send, scho said,Gyf ony wald with batale ws invaid,And, in my helpyng, hecht doun throu the ayrTo send Wlcanus armour, gude and fair.Allace, how feill slauchter now apperisTo wrachit Latynys in thir mortal weris!By me, Turnus, quhat panys salt thou dre!O Tybir fair that rynnys in the se,Quhou mony scheldis, helmys, and stern body,Vndre thy fludis warpyt law sall ly!Lat thame array thar ostis now lat se,And baldly brek thar frendschip maid with me.

CAP. IX

Evander sendis hys son, the ȝong Pallas,With hys army in help of Eneas.Fra this was sayd, from his hie set he start:And first the sloknyt fyris hes he gart,The rakyt harthis and ingill ȝister nycht,On Hercules altar beyt and kyndill bryght,And glaidly went to wirschip and to callSobir Penates, goddis domesticall;And walyt twynteris, eftir the auld gys,He slew and brytnyt onto sacryfys;With hym Evander eik, and all hys ferisOf Troiane menȝe, lusty fresch ȝonkeris.Syne doun in haist he went onto hys schippys,Hys folkis he visseyt and his falloschippys:Of quhais nowmyr hes he walyt owtAne certane, the mast lykly, bald, and stowt,Quhilk suld hym follow into euery place;The remanent tuk byssely thar raysDown by the watyr, on the followand fludeDiscendand slawly, to beir message gudeSone eftir this ontill Ascanyus ȝyng,Twychand hys fader and of euery thing.The horssys syne war gevin and furth brochtTo the Troianys that onto Tuscane socht;And till Eneas led onon thai gaueA gentill steyd excedand all the laif,On quham at all partis was ourspred and foldA dun lyonys skyn with nalys of gold.Than throu the litil cite all on rawThe fame onon dywlgat swyftly flaw,Quhow that the horsmen spedis thame bedeneTo go onto the land and cost Tyrrene.The wyssys and avowys than, for feir,By woman and the matronys dowblet wer;Mor grew the dreid the narrar drew dangar,Now Martis ymage semys walxin mair.The fader than Evander, as thai depart,By the rycht hand thame gryppyt with fair hart,Hys son enbrasyng, and full tenderlyApon hym hyngis, wepand ontellabilly;And thus he sayd: O sen omnipotentHie Jupiter my ȝyng ȝheris by wentWald me restor! in sic strenthis and eild,So as I was quhen first in batal feildThe armys of the ostis down I dangOf Preneste vndir the wallis strang,And victor of myne ennemys, as prowd syre,Hail hepys of thar scheildis brynt in fyre:Quhar, with this sammyn rycht hand quellyt and slane,Vndre the hellys grond TartareaneKyng Herylus was sent to dwell for ay;Quhamtill hys moder Feronya the gay,Into the tyme of hys natiuite,Grisly to say, had gevyn sawlys thre,And that he suld beir armour thrys in fyght,And thrys behwyt to the ded be dicht;Fra quham that tyme this rycht hand, not the les,Tha sawlys all bereft, and thar expresOf alsmony enarmouris spulȝeit clene.Gyf so war now with me as than hes bene,Ne suld I nevir depart, myne awyn child deir,From thyne maste sweit embrasyng, for na weir;Nor our nychtbour Meȝentyus in hys fedSuld na wys, mokkand at this hasard hed,By swerd haue killyt so feill corps as slane is,Nor thys burgh, of sa mony citesanysLeft desolat and denudyt, quod he.Bot O ȝe Goddis abuf, and Jove mast hie,The governour of hevynly wyghtis all,On ȝou I cry, on ȝou I clepe and call;Begyn to haue compaciens and pieteOf ȝour awin wofull kyng of Arcadye;Oppyn and inclyne ȝour dyvyne godly erys,To heir and ressaue the faderis meik prayeris.Gyf it be so ȝour godhed and gret myghtisBe presciens provyd hes, and forsychtis,Pallas my son in salfty hail and feir,Gyf the fatis preservys hym of danger,Sa onys in my lyfe I may hym se,Agane togidder assemblyt I and he;I ȝow beseik my febill lyfe to respyte,That I mycht lyf, and endur ȝyt a lyteAll pane and laubour that ȝou list me send.Bot, O faynt fortoun, gyf thou doys pretendAnd mannancis ony myschewos cace,Now, now furthwith, into this sammyn placeSuffir me swelt, and end this cruel lyfe,Quhil dowtsum is ȝyt all sic sturt and stryfe,Quhil hope oncertane is of thing tocum,And quhil I thus, my deir child, all and sumMy lustis plesance, and my last weilfair,The in myne armys enbrasis but dispar;So that, eftir, na sorowfull messyngerWith smert ennoy hurt nevir myne agit eyr.The fader Evander with full sory hart,At lattir poynt quhen thai war to depart,Thir wordis spak, syne fel in swoun rycht thar:Hys men hym hynt and to hys chalmyr bar.Be this, the rowt of horsmen strang in fyghtWar ischit at the portis euery wight:Amangis the formast the duke Eneas,And eik the trast Achates, furth can pas,Syne other nobillis of the Troianys stowt;The ȝyng Pallas rydyng amyd the rowt,So farrand and so lusty personage,Cled in a mantill in hys tender age,Quhilk dyd ourheld hys burnyst armour brycht:On hym to luke was a mor gudly syghtThan on the day stern, quhilk at morn ayrlyBaithit in the occeane rysys in the sky,Quhois fyry bemys Venus in speciallChosys abuf all starnys gret and small,Heich in the hevin liftyng hys vissage schene,To chays away the myrknes with hys eyn.The wofull moderis, quakand for cald dreid,Stude on the wall behaldand quhar thai ȝeid,And dyd convoy or follow with thar sightThe dusty sop, quharso the rak went rycht,Govand apon thar bryght armour at schane,So fer as that thar luke mycht thame attane.The cumpany al sammyn held arrayThrow scroggy bussys furth the narrest way,Enarmyt rydyng thyddir as thai wald:The brute and dyn from thame vpsprang thik fald,The horny hovyt hors with four feytStampand and trottand on the dusty streyt.

CAP. X

Quhou that Venus ontill Eneas brochtThe godly armour be Wlcanus wrocht.Thar growys a gret schaw, neir the chil ryverQuhilk that flowys with hys frosty stremys cleirDown by the cite of Agillyna,That other wys is clepyt Cereta,Quhilk is in wirschip haldyn and in dreidBy faderis ald, the large boundis onbreid,As sanctuar; and with deip clewchis wydeThys schaw is closyt apon euery syde:Ane thyk ayk wod of skowgy fyrris stowtBelappys all the said cuthill abowt.The fame is that the Grekis ancyane,Quhilk clepyt bene to surname Pelasgane,That quhilum lang tyme in the formast eildisThe Latyn boundis occupeyt and feildis,To Syluanus fyrst dedicat this schaw,The God of bestis and of feildis faw,And constitut to hym solempnyt fest.Duke Tharcon, and the Tuscanys maste and lest,Not fer from thens, intyll a strenthy placeThar palȝeonys all had plantyt apon cace,That from the top of the hillys hyghtThe army all thai mycht se at a syght,With tentis stentit strekand to the plane.Thyddyr held Eneas, the souerane Troiane,And all the bernys of hys ryall rowtChosyn for the batell, lusty, stern, and stowt.And, wery of thar travale, thocht thai bestThar self and horssis to refresch and rest.Bot than Venus, the fresch Goddes, bedeneAmang the hevynly skyis brycht and schene,Berand with hir the dyvyne armour cleir,To mak tharof a presand, can draw neir:And as on far hir son scho dyd behald,Secret allone by the chill ryver cald,Amyd ane holl cleuch, or a dern valle,Of hir fre will tyll hym apperis sche,And with sic wordis to hym spak, sayng:Lo, my reward heir, and my promysyngFulfillyt justly by my husbandis wark;So that, my son, now art thou sovyr and stark,That the not nedis to haue ony feirFortill resist the prowd Latynys in weir,Nor ȝit the strang Turnus to assaill,Hym to provok, or challance for batale.Thus said the scheyn Citherea fair of face,And, with that word, can hyr deyr child enbrace;And thar the schynand armour forgane his sychtVndre a bowand aik layd dovn full rycht.Seand sic gyftis of this trast Goddes,This gentill knycht reiosyt wolx, I ges,Glaid that so gret honour ressauyt he,That scarsly kowth he satisfyit beForto behald thir armour bryght and schene;On euery peys to vissy kest hys eyn,Tharon wondrand; betwix hys handis twoAnd byg armys thame turnys to and fro:The grysly crystit helm he can behald,On feirfull wys spowtand the fyre thik fald;The fatale swerd, dedly to mony ane;The styf hawbryk of steill yburnyst schane,Of huge weght and bludy sangwyne hew,That sic a glans or variant cullour schew,As quhen the byrnand sonnys bemys brychtThe watry clowd persand with hys lyght,Schynand on far, forgane the skyis howSchapys the figour of the quent rayn bowe:The lyght legharnes on that other syde,Witht gold and burnyst laton puryfyde,Grathit and polyst weill he dyd aspy;The speir, and eik the scheild so subtellyForgyt that it was ane ontellabill thyng.For Vlcanus, of fyre the lord and kyng,Knawand full weill the art of prophecy,And syndry thingis tocum eik by and by,The valȝeand dedis of Italyanys,The gret triumphys als of the Romanys,And of Ascanyus stok all nobil knyghtis,Thar batalys all per ordour, weir, and fyghtis,Had tharin porturat properly and grave.Amang al otheris, in Martis gresy caveThe sukkyn wolf furthstrekand breste and vdyr:Abowt hir pappys, but feir, as thar moder,The twa twynnys, smal men childer ȝyng,Sportand ful tayt gan to wrabill and hyng;And scho hir lang rovnd nek bane bowand raithTo geif thame sowke, and can thame culȝe baith,Semyng scho suld thar bodeis by and byLyk with hir tong, and clenge full tenderly.Not fer from thens Rome cite eikyt he;Quhar, by ane new inuentioun wonder sle,Sittand into ane holl valle or slak,Within the lystis for the triumphe mak,War Sabyne virgynys revyst by Romanys,As that thai war assemblyt for the nanysThe gret gammys Circenses forto se,Quhilk justyng or than turnament cleip we.With hasty sterage thar most thou behaldThe werys rasyt aganys Romanys baldBy agyt Tatyus and fell Curetanys:Syne the ilk princis, and the said Romanys,The weris sessyt sammyn all infeir,Enarmyt stad befor Jovys alter,With cowpys full in hand for sacryfys;Thar mycht thou se thame, eftir the ald gys,The swyne stekit brytnyt sone and slane,Conferm thar trewys and mak paix agane.

CAP. XI

Quhou that Wlcanus thar, amang the laif,Storys tocum dyd in the armour graif.Fra thyne not far the chariot thou mycht knaw,Metus Suffytius in seir pecis draw;Albeit thou thocht this cruelte, kyng Albane,Quhy wald thou not at thy promys remane?Quhy list thou not thy faith obserue and saw?Thys faithles wyghtis entralys war outdraw,By command of Tullus Hostilyus,And throu the woddis harlyt, euery bus,Quhil that the tharmys and the bowellys rentScroggis and breris all with blude bysprent.Thar mycht thou se Tarquynus in exileFurth cast of Rome, and syne, within schort quhile,By kyng Porsenna into batale planeCommandit fortobe ressauyt agane;With that a felloun sege al Rome aboutDyd ombeset, and closyt with hys rowt:The Romanys than discendit from EneeRusch onto wapynnys for thar liberte.Thou mycht behaldin eik this ilk PorsenLyke as he had dyspite, and bostand men;For that the hardy Cocles, darf and bald,Durst brek the bryg that he purposit to hald,And eik the virgyn Clelya, quhar scho stude,Hyr bandis brast, and swam our Tibir flude.Manlyus the knycht abufe into the scheild,In the defens for Jovys tempil beild,Kepand the strenth and castell Tarpeia,And haldand the heich Capitoll alssua,Stud porturat, neir the chymmys calendar,Quhais ruffis laitly ful rouch thekit warWith stra or gloy by Romulus the wight.Thar was alsso engravyt all at ryghtThe siluyr ganer, flyghterand with lowd scry,Warnand all reddy the gilt entre by,Quhou the Franchmen dyd the ȝet assaill:Thar mycht thou se the Franch army alhaillHaist throu the bussys to the capitoll,Sum vndermyndand the grond with a hoill,So that almaist thai wan the forteres;Gret help thame maid the clos nychtis myrknes;Thar haris schane as doith the brycht gold wyre,And all of gold wrocht was thar rich attyre,Thar purpour robbys bygareit schynand brycht,And in thar hand withhaldand euery knychtTwa javillyng speris, or than gyssarn stavis,Forgit in the montanys al sik maner glavys,Thar bodeis all with lang tergis ourheild.Syne ȝonder mar was schapin in the feldThe dansand prestis, clepit Salii,Hoppand and syngand wonder merely,And Panos prestis, nakit Lupercanys;The toppyt hattis quhar the woll threid remanys,And bowyt buklaris falland from the sky.Thar mycht besene, forgyt maste craftely,The chaist matronys throw the cite allIn soft charis thar gemmys festualLedand, and playand with myrthis and solace.A far way thens ful weill engravit wasThe vgly hellis set Tartareane,The deip dungioun quhar Pluto dois remane,And of the wikkyt pepill all the pyne:Thar was thou markyt, cursyt Catylyne,Hyngand out our ane schorand hewch or bra,And trymland for the feirfull dreid and wa,To se the furyus grysly sisteris facis,That with thar scurgis wikkit pepil chacis:The rychtwis folkis, at levit deuotly,Fra thame war partit in a place far by,And the wys man Censorius CatoGevand thar just rewardis till all tho.Myd way betwix the other storeis seir,The swelland seys fygour of gold cleirWent flowand, bot the lippyrrand wallys quhyteWar pulderit full of fomy froith mylk quhite:The delphyn fysches, wrocht of siluer schene,In cirkill swepand fast throu fludis grene,Sewchand swyftly salt stremys; quhar thai far,Vpstrake thar talys the stour heir and thar.