The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

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.

CAP. XII

Eneas mervellys of the storeys seirWrocht be Wlcanus in hys armour cleir.Amyd the seys mycht be persauyt weillThe weirly schippis with thar snowtis of steill,The Actiane batalys, semyng as quha dyd seThe mont Lewcata, standand by the seye,For ostis arrayt glowand as the gleyd;Of glitterand gold schane all the flude on breid.On that a party, thar myght thou behaldCesar August Octauyan the bald,Movand to batale the Italyanys;With hym senatouris and worthy pepill Romanys,And Goddis domestik, quhilk Penates hait,With all the gret Goddis of mair estait:Heich in the forstam stand he mycht be sene,From hys blyth browys brent and athir eynThe fyre twynklyng, and hys faderis starSchew from hys helmys top schynand on far.The byg and stowt Agrippa, hys frend deir,Hys navy led at hand weil by neir,As he that in hys help and succurs fyndisThe prosper favouris baith of goddis and wyndis:Quhais forhed schane of ane prowd syng of weris,A crown with stammys sic as schippis beris.Marcus Antonyus cummys thame aganysWith hail suppovel of barbaryanys,As nobill victour and cheif conquerour,Careand with hym of Orient the flour;Diuers armyis and pepillys for melle,From Pers, Egipt, and costis of the Red See,The power all assemblit in hys flote,Ane huge rowt and multitude, God wote,The ȝondermast pepill, clepit Bactranys,Quhilk neir the eist part of the warld remanys.Hym followys to the feild, ane schame to say,Hys spous Egiptiane, queyn Cleopatra.Thai semyt sammyn ruschand all togidder,Quhill all the sey vpstowris with a quhidder;Ourweltit with the bensell of the ayris,Fast fra forstammys the flude swowchis and raris,As thai togiddir matchyt on the depe.Thou suld haue wenyt, quha tharto tuke kepe,The gret ilandys, Ciclades, hail vprent,Apon the sey fletand quhar thai went,Or huge hie hillys, concurrand all atanys,Togiddir rusch and meyt with other montanys;On athir hand with sa gret fors and weghtThe men assalys in schip of towr to feght.Thai warp at other brycht blesys of fyre,The kyndillyt lynt, and hardis byrnand schire;The castyng dartis fra hand to hand dyd fle,Slang gaddis of irne, and stane cast gret plente:Neptunus feildis, all the large flude,For new slauchter wolx blandit red of blude.Amyd the ostis Cleopatra queynThe rowtis dyd assembill to feght bedene,With tympane sound, in gys of hir cuntre,Prouocand thame to move in the melle:Nor ȝit beheld scho not the edderis twaneBehynd hir bak, that eftir hes hir slane.The monstruus goddis figuris, of al kyndThat honorit ar in Egipt or in Inde,And eik the barkand statu, Anubis,Agane Neptune, agane Venus, I wys,And als agane Mynerva, porturat standisIn that bargane, with wapynnys in thar handis.Amyd the feld stude Mars, that felloun syre,In plait and mail, wod brym and ful of ire:The sorofull Fureys from the firmamentBy the Goddys to tak vengeans war sent:In went Discord, joyus of that journe,With mantill rent and schorn men mycht hir se;Quham followit Bellona of batell,With hir kynd cousyng, the scharp scurgis fell.Actyus Appollo, seand in the skyOf this melle the dowtsum victory,Hys bow abufe thar hedis hes he bent,Lyke forto schote hys dartis and down sent:For dreid of quham all the Egiptianys,All thai of Inde, and the Arabyanys,And thai of Sabey, turnyt bak to fle.Cleopatra the queyn thar mycht thou seWynd sayll about, and gang befor the wynd,Ay mar and mair dredand persute behynd,Sclakand schetis, and haldand rowme at large,With purpour saill abufe hir payntit barge.The mychty God of fyre hir wrocht and maidFul pail of hew, sorowfull and not glaid,In syng tocum of hir smert hasty ded,Amangis ded corpsis new of slauchter red,And, with the west wynd and the wallys haw,Frawart the flude of Nyle our stremys blaw:Quhilk Nylus ryver, murnand for thar deseys,Hys large skyrt onbrede spred thame to ples,With all his habyt oppynnyt thame to call,As thocht hym list ressaue the venquyst allWithin hys watry bosum, large and rude,And hyde in secret cundyte of his flude.Within the wallis syne of Romys cite,Cesar, ressauyt with triumphis thre,Thou mycht behald, thar offerand on his gysTill Itale goddis immortal sacryfyce:Our all the cite, in maist singular joy,The blysfull fest thai makyng man and boy,So that thre hundreth ryall tempillys dyngOf ryot, ryppet, and of revellyng,Ryngis, and of the myrthful sportis seirThe stretis soundyng on solacius maner;At euery sanctuary, and altar vpstent,In caralyng the lusty ladeis went;Befor the altaris eik, in cirkyll round,The brytnyt bestis strowyt all the ground.Cesar hym self, seysit in sete ryall,Within the snaw quhite statly merbill wallOf God Phebus tempill, thar as he satVisseand the pepillis gyftis, this and that,And on the prowd pillaris, in takynnyngOf hys triumphe, maid thar be vp hyng:The pepill by hym venquyst mycht thou knaw,Befor hym passand per ordour, all on raw,In langsum tryne; and how feil kyndis seirOf tungis and of langage men mycht heir,Als mony diuers habyttys wor thai strange,Als feil sortis of armouris dyd thai change.Vlcanus heir the beltles Numydanys,And thai folkis that in Affrik remanys,Had gravyn weill; and ȝonder porturat wasThe Leleganys, and the pepill Carras,And Gelones, tha pepill of Sythia,In archery the quhilk ar wonder thra.The mekill flude Eufrates, fast by,With streym now semyt flow mair sobirly;The Moryn pepill eik, fast by the see,Of men reput the last extremite,The forkyt flude of Reyn eik pantit was,And the ondantit Danys thar dyd pas,The flude Arax of Armeny alsso,Havand disdene a bryg our it suld go.Eneas, of hys moderis gyft wondryng,Our al Vlcanus scheild samony a syngWrocht on sic wys, nocht knawand the mater,To se the figouris of thir storeis seirReiosyt wolx, and syne deliuerlyApon hys schulder hyntis vp in hyThe famus honour, and hie renownye,Or gloryus jestis of hys postheryte.

VOLUME II

THE PROLOUG OF THE NYNTH BUKE

Thir lusty warkis of hie nobilyteAgilyte dyd wryte of worthy clerkis,And tharin merkis wysdome, vtilyte,Na vilyte, nor sic onthryfty sperkis:Scurilyte is bot for doggis at barkis,Quha tharto harkis fallys in fragilyte.Honeste is the way to worthynes,Vertu, doutles, the perfyte gait to blys;Thou do na mys, and eschew idilnes,Persew prowes, hald na thing at is hys;Be nocht rakles to say sone ȝa, I wys,And syne of this the contrar wyrk expres.Do tyll ilk wight as thou done to waldbe;Be nevir sle and doubill, nor ȝit our lyght;Oys not thy mycht abufe thyne awin degre,Clym nevir our hie, nor ȝit to law thow lycht;Wirk na malgre, thocht thou be nevir sa wyght,Hald with the rycht, and pres the nevir to le.Eneuch of this, ws nedis prech na mor,Bot, accordyng the purpos said tofor,The ryall style, clepyt heroycall,Full of wirschip and nobilnes our all,Suldbe compilit but thewhes or voyd word,Kepand honest wys sportis quhar thai bourd,All lowus langage and lychtnes lattand be,Observand bewte, sentens, and grauyte.The sayar eik suld weil consider thys,Hys mater, and quhamto it entitilit is:Eftir myne authouris wordis, we aucht tak tentThat baith accord, and bene conuenient,The man, the sentens, and the knychtlyke stile,Sen we mon carp of vassalage a quhile.Gyf we descryve the woddis, the treis, quod he,Suld conform to that mannis dignyteQuhamto our wark we direct and endyte.Quhat helpis it? full litill it wald delyteTo write of scroggis, broym, haddir, or rammale;The lawrer, cedyr, or the palm triumphale,Ar mar ganand for nobillis of estait:The muse suld with the person aggre algait.Stra for to spek of gayt to gentill wight;A hund, a steid, mar langis for a knyght,Quhamto efferis hant na rebald daill;Thar suld na knyght reid bot a knychtly taill.Quhat forsis hym the bussart on the brer,Set weil hym semys the falcon heroner?He comptis na mair the gled than the fewlume,Thocht weil hym lykis the goshalk glaid of plume.The cur, or mastys, he haldis at smal availl,And culȝeis spanȝellis, to chace pertryk or quaill.Ne byd I not into my stile for thyTo speke of trufis, nor nane harlotry;Sen that myne author with sic eloquensHys buke illumnyt hes, and hie sentens,Sa fresch endyte, and sang poeticall,That it is clepyt the wark imperiall,Endyt onto the gret Octauyane,The Emperour excellent and maste souerane:By quham, the gospell makis mensioun,The hail warld put was to discriptioun,To numbir all the pepill tharin suld be,So, but rebellioun, al quhar obeyt was he.Bot, sen that Virgill standis but compar,Thocht in our leid hys sayngis to declarI haue in ryme thus far furth tane the cur,Now war me laith my lang laubour mysfur:All thocht my termys be nocht polist alway,Hys sentence sall I hald, as that I may.Gyf ocht be weill, thank Virgil and nocht me;Quhar ocht is bad, gays mys, or owt of gre,My lewytnes, I grant, hes all the wyte,Kouth not ensew hys ornat fresch endyte,Bot, with fuylhardy curage malapert,Schupe to enterprit, and dyd perchance pervert,Thys maist renownyt prynce of poetry:Quhar I sa dyd, mea culpa, I cry.Ȝit, by my self, I fynd this proverb perfyte,The blak craw thinkis hyr awin byrdis quhite:Sa faris with me, bew schirris, wil ȝe hark,Can nocht persaue a falt in all my wark,Affectioun sa far my raysson blyndis.Quhar I mysknaw myne errour, quha it fyndisFor cheryte amendis it, gentil wight,Syne pardon me, sat sa far in my lycht,And I sal help to smore ȝour falt, leif broder;Thus, vail que vail, ilk gude deid helpis other.And for I haue my wark addressyt and dycht,I dar sa, baith to gentil barroun and knycht,Quhais name abufe I haue done notyfy,And now of prowes and hie chevelryBehuffis me to write and carp a quhile;The mair glaidly I sal enfors my stile,And for hys saik do scharp my pen all new,My maste renownyt author to ensew,That thar salbe, wyll God, litill offens,Salwand owr bustuus wlgar differens.Na mar as now in preambill me list expone,The nynt buke thus begouth Eneadon.

THE NYNTH BUKE OF ENEADOS

CAP. I

Juno to Turnus in message Iris sent,To sege the Troianys, Eneas tho absent.Quhyll on this wys, as I haue said or this,Sik materis and ordinancis wirkand isIn diuers placis, set full fer ytwyn,Saturnus get, Juno, that list not blynOf hir auld malyce and iniquyte,Hir madyn Iris from hevin sendys scheTo the bald Turnus malapert and stowt;Quhilk for the tyme was with all his rowtAmyd ane valle wondyr lovn and law,Sittand at eys within the hallowyt schawOf god Pilumnus, hys progenitor.Thamantis douchtir knelys hym befor,I meyn Iris, this ilk fornamyt maid,And with hir rosy lippys thus hym said:Turnus, behald on cace reuoluyt the day,And of hys fre will sendys the, perfay,Sik avantage and oportunyte,That set thou wald haue axit it, quod sche,Thar was nevir ane of all the goddis dyngQuhilk durst haue the promittit sic a thing.Eneas, desolat levand hys cite,Hys navy eik, hys ferys, and hail menȝe,Is till Evander socht, and Palatyne,That burgh. But not eneuch; for farther syneTo the extreme citeis of TuscanyIn mont Corythus haldys he in hy,And doys assembill the wild lauboreris,That quhilum com fra Lyd, till armys in weris.Quhat dredis thou? now tyme is to prik hors,Now tyme fortill assay ȝour cartis and fors.Haue done, mak na mar tary nor delay,Set on thar strenthis sone, gif thame affray.Quod sche; and tharwith, in hys presens evin,With equale weyngis flaw vp in the hevin,Vndre the clowdis schapand, quhar scho went,A gret rane bowe of diuers hewys ment.The ȝong man knew hir weill, and hastelyVp baith hys handis hevis to the sky,With sic wordis followand, as scho dyd fle:Iris, thou bewte of the hevynnys hie,Throw all the clowdis and thir skyis brovn,Quha hes the send to me in erth a dovn?Quhow is becummyn on this wys, quod he,Sa brycht weddir and cleir serenyte?I se the hevynnys oppynnyt and devyde,And movand sternys in the lyftis syde.So gret takynnys and reuelacions schawI sal persew, and fallow quhat befaw;Quhat evir thou be that callys to the weris,Thy command sal I obey, as efferis.And thar withall, with wordis augurall,Eftir thar spayng cerymonys diuynal,Onto the flude onon furth steppis he,And of the stremys crop a litill weThe watir lyftis vp intill his handis,Full gretumly the goddys, quhar he standis,Besekand till attend to hys prayer,The hevynnys chargeyng with feil awowis seir.With this the ostis all in the plane feildHeld furth arrayt, schynand vnder scheld.Men mycht behald full mony riall stedis,Full mony pantyt targe and weirlyke wedis:Of giltyn geir dyd glytter bank and bus.The formast batale ledis Mesapus;The hyndmast ostis had in governyngOf Tyrrhyus the sonnys or childer ȝyng:Turnus thar duke rewlys the myddill ost,With glave in hand maid awful feir and bost;Thame till array raid turnand to and fro,And by the hed alhaill, quhar he dyd go,Hyear than all the rowt men mycht hym se.In sik ordour furth haldis his menȝe,Lyke as sum tyme Ganges, the flude Indane,Sevyn swelland ryveris eftir spayt of raynRessauyt in hys large bosum in hy,In hys deip trowch now flowys esely:Or as vmquhile the fertill flude, Nylus,Ourfletand all the feildis, bank and bus,Syne, eftir the gret fludis watry rage,Returnys swagit to hys auld passage.