The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

CAP. XIII

The Troianys set on Turnus dyntis rude,Quhill at he fled, and lap into the flude.At last Mnestheus and strang Serestus,The Troiane capitanys, herand quhow that thusThar pepill slane war doun, dyd convene;Thar feris fleand pail and wan haue thai sene,And thar cheif ennemy closyt in thar wallys.Mnestheus on thame clepys thus and callys:Quhar ettill ȝhe to fra hyne? quhidder wald ȝhe fle?Quhat other wallys seik ȝhe, or cite?Quhar haue ȝe other strenth or forteres?O citesanys, behaldis heir expresNane bot a man standand ȝou aganys,Closyt within ȝour dykis and wallys of stanys,Onrevengit, sa gret occisiounAnd huge slauchter sal mak within ȝour tovn,Or sa feill valȝeand ȝyng capitanys kend,Onresistit, thus down to hell sall send!O maste onworthy cowartis, ful of slewth,Of ȝour onselly cuntre haue ȝhe na rewth,Nor piete of ȝour ancyent Goddis kynd?Think ȝhe na lak and schame into ȝour mynd,To do sa gret owtrage to strang Enee,In hys absens thus catyfly to fle?The Troianys by sik wordis as he saidIn curage grew, and fermly all abaid,Abowt thar faman flokkand in a rowt.Turnus a litil, thocht he was stern and stowt,Begouth frawart the bargane to withdraw,And sattil towartis the ryveris syde alaw,Ay peys and peys, to that part of the tovnWas closyt with the ryver, rynnand dovn.Troianys, that seand, the mar apertlyAssalȝeit hym with mony schowt and cry,And thikkyt fast abowt hym inveroun.As quhen abowt the awfull wild lyoun,With thar invasibill wapynnys scharp and squar,Ane multitude of men bilappyt war;And he full fers, with thrawin wlt, in the start,Seand the scharp poyntis, recullys bakwart:Bot, forto gif the bak, and fle away,Nowder hys greif nor curage suffir may;And, thocht he wald, for all hys mekill mycht,Agane samony men and wapynnys brychtTo pres fordwart may he cum na speid.Nane other wys Turnus, at sik a neid,Steppys abak with huly pays full still,Hys mynd scaldand in greif and egir will:And forthir eik amyd hys fays heTwys ruschit in, and schuddrit the melle;And twys also that onrebutit knychtEndlang the wallys put thame to the flycht.Bot al togidder, intyll ane convyne,Apon hym haill the town assemlyt syne,Nor Saturnus get, Juno, in that fyghtAgane thame durst him minister strenth nor mycht;For Jupiter had from the hevynnys fairSend dovn Iris, quhilk dwellis in the ayr,Onto hys spous and sister thar at handFul scharp chargis bryngis and command,Les than Turnus, quhou evir the chance befallis,Withdrew hym fra the fatale Troiane wallys:Quharthrow this valȝeand campioun ȝong and keynNowder with his scheild sa mekil mycht sustene,Nor sic defens mak with his hand, as ayr.With dartis at him swakkit heir and tharOn sik wys is he quhelmyt and confundyt,That euer in ane hys bos helm rang and soundyt,Clynkand abowt hys halfheddis with a dyn:Hys sovir armour, strang, and na thyng thyn,Is brokkyn and byrsyt with feill stonys cast;So thik war dyntis, and strakis smyt so fast,That of his helm down bettyn war the crestis;Sa sair the bosys of hys target prest is,Hys scheild na langar mycht sik rowtis sustene;The Troianys, with this Mnestheus, in thar teynDowblys thar dyntis at hym with speris cast,As it had bene the hydduus thundris blast.Our all hys body furth ȝet the swait thik,Lyke to the trynland blak stremys of pyk;Ne gat he laser anys hys aynd to draw:The febillit brath ful fast can beit and blawAmyd hys wery breist and lymmys lasch.Than at the last, al suddanly, with a plasch,Harnes and al togiddir, quhar he stude,Him self he swakkis and lap into the flude.With giltyn stremys hym keppyt the ryver,And bar hym vp abuf hys wallis cleir;Syne blithly careit to hys feris bedene,All blude and slauchter away was weschyn clein.

THE PROLOUG OF THE TENTH BUKE

He plasmatour of thingis vniuersall,Thou renewar of kynd, that creat all,Incomprehensibill thy warkis ar to consave,Quhilk grantyt hes to every wight to haueQuhat thing mast ganys onto hys governall.Quhou mervellus beyn divisions of thy gracis,Distribut so to ilk thing in all placis!The son to schyne our all, and schaw hys lyght,The day to laubour, for rest thou ordanyt nycht;For diuers causys schupe seir sessonys and spacis.Fresch veir to burgioun herbys and sweit flowris;The hait symmyr to nurys corn all howris,And breid all kynd of fowlys, fysch, and beste;Hervist to rendir hys frutis maste and leste;Wyntir to snyb the erth with frosty schowris.Not at thou nedyt ocht, all thyng thou wrocht,Bot to that fyne thou maid all thing of nocht,Of thy gudnes tobe participant;Thy Godhed na rychar, nor ȝit mar skant,Nowthir now nor then, set thou ws wrocht and bocht.Thy maist supreme indiuisibill substans,In ane natur thre personys, but discrepans,Regnand etern, ressauys nane accident;For quhy? thou art rycht at this tyme presentIt at thou was, and evir sal, but varians.Set our natur God hes to hym vnyte,Hys Godhed incommixt remanys perfyte,The son of God havand verray naturis twaneIn a person, and thre personys all aneIn deite, natur, maieste, and delyte.The Son the self thing with the Fader is;The self substans the Haly Gaist, I wys,Is with thame baith; thre distinct personage,Ar, war, and be sall, euer of ane age,Omnipotent, a Lord, equale in blys.Quhilk souerane substans, in gre superlatyve,Na cunnyng comprehend may nor discryve;Nowther generis, generat is, nor doith proceid,Allane begynnar of euery thing, but dreid,And in the self remanys etern on lyve.The Fader, of nane generat, creat, ne boir,Hys only Son engendris evirmor;Not makis, creatis, bot engendris all wayOf hys substans; and all tyme of baith twaProcedis the Haly Gaist, equal in glor.Of baith, from ane begynnyng, procedis he;So bene the warkis of the TriniteMaist excellent, and wondirfull to consave:Ȝit thame to traste the mair meryte we have,That be na manys rayson prevyt may thai be.The Fader knawys hym self, quhilk knawlege spredisBe generatioun etern, that evir bredisHys Son, hys word and wysdom eternall:Betwix thir twa is luf perpetuall,Quhilk is the Haly Gaist, fra baith procedis.Not at the Faderis natur mynyst is,Of hys substans he generis his Son in blys;Ne so the Son of hys kynd is ybor,That he a part hes tharof, and na mor;Bot all he gevys hys Son, and all is hys.The ilk thing he hym gevis, that he remanys:Thys syngill substans indifferently thus ganysTo thre in ane, and ilk ane of the threThe sammyn thing is in a maieste,Thocht thir personys be seuerall in thre granys.Lyke as the sawle of man is ane, we wait,Havand thre poweris distinct and separate,Vnderstandyng, rayson, and memor:Intelligens consideris the thing befor,Rayson discernys, memor kepis the consait.As thai beyn in a substans knyt all thre,Thre personys ryngnys in a Deite.We may tak als ane other simylytude,Grosly the sammyn purpos to conclud;Flame, lycht, and hait, bene in a fyre we se.Quhar euer the low is, lycht and heit bene thar;And had the fyre bene byrnand euermar,Evyr suld the flambe engendrit haue hys lyght,And of the byrnand low the flambys brychtPerpetualy suld heit haue sprung alquhar.So generis the Fader the Son with hym etern,From baith procedis the Haly Gaist coetern.Thus rude exemplys and figuris may we geif;Thocht, God by hys awin creaturis to preif,War mar onliknes than liknes to discern.Frend, farly nocht, na caus is to compleneAlbeit thy wyt gret God may nocht attene;For, mycht thou comprehend be thyne engyneThe maist excellent maieste dyvyne,He mycht be reput a pretty God and meyn.Consider thy raison is so febill and lyte,And hys knawlage profund and infynyte;Consider quhou he is onmensurabill:Hym, as he is, to knaw thou art not habill;It sufficis the beleif thy creid perfyte.God is, I grant, in all thing nocht includyt;Gevis all gudnes, and is of nocht denudyt;Of hym hes all thing part, and he nocht mynyst;Hail he is alquhar, not diuidit, ne fynyst;Without all thing he is, and nocht excludit.O Lord, thy ways beyn investigabill!Sweit Lord, thy self is sa inestimabill,I can write nocht bot wondris of thy mycht,That lawyt sa far thy maieste and hyghtTobe born man intill ane oxis stabill.Thow tuke mankynd of ane onwemmyt maid,Inclosyt within a virginis bosum glaid,Quham all the hevynnys mycht nevir comprehend;Angellis, scheiphyrdis, and kyngis thy Godheid kend,Set thou in cryb betwix twa bestis was laid.Quhat infynyte excellent hie bonteAbufe thy warkis all, in wonderfull gre!Lord, quhen thou man wrocht to thyne awyn ymage,That tynt him self throu hys fulych dotage,Thou man becam, and deit to mak hym fre.Maid thou not man first president vnder the,To dant the bestis, fowlys, and fysch in see,Subdewit to him the erth, and all tharin;Syne paradice grantit hym and all his kyn,Gave him fre will, and power nevir to dee?Enarmyt him with raison and prudence;Only bad hym kepe thyne obediens,And to hym suld all creaturis obey?Bitter was that fruyt for his ofspryng, and fey,Maid deth onknawin be fund, and lyfe go hens.O thyne inestimabill luf and cheryte!Becam a thrall to mak ws bondis fre,To quykkyn thy sclavys tholyt schamfull ded maste fell.Blissyt be thou virginal frute, that hereit hell,And pait the pryce of the forbodin tre!Thocht thou large stremys sched apon the rude,A drop had bene sufficient of thy bludeA thousand warldis to haue redemyt, I grant;Bot thou the well of mercy wald nocht skant,Ws to provoik to lufe the, and be gude.Our all this syne, thyne infynyte Godhed,Thy flesch and blude in form of wyne and bred,Tobe our fuyd of grace, in plege of glor,Thou hest ws geif, in perpetuall memorOf thy passioun and dolorus paynfull ded.Quhat thankis dew or ganȝeld, Lord benyng,May I, maist wracht synfull catyve indyng,Rendir for this souerane peirles hie bonte?Sen body, saule, and all, I haue of the,Thou art my pryce, mak me thy praye condyng.My makar, my redemar, and support,Fra quham all grace and gudnes cumis at schort,Grant me that grace my mysdedis til amend,Of this and all my warkis to mak gud end:Thus I beseik the, Lord, thus I exort.From the begynnyng and end be of my muse:All other Jove and Phebus I refus.Lat Virgill hald hys mawmentis to him self;I wirschip nowder ydoll, stok, nor elf,Thocht furth I write so as myne autour dois.Is nane bot thou, the Fader of Goddis and men,Omnipotent eternal Jove I ken;Only the, helply Fader, thar is nane other:I compt not of thir paygane Goddis a fudder,Quhais power may nocht help a haltand hen.The scripture clepys the God, of Goddis Lord;For quha thy mandat kepys in ane accordBene ane with the, not in substans, bot grace,And we our Fader the clepys in euery place:Mak ws thy sonnys in cherite, but discord.Thow haldis court our cristall hevynnys cleir,With angellis, sanctis, and hevynly spretis seir,That, but cessyng, thy glor and lovyng syngis:Manifest to the, and patent, bene all thyngis;Thy spows, and queyn maid, and thy moder deir.Concord for ever, myrth, rest, and endles blys,Na feir of hell, nor dreid of ded, thar isIn thy sweit realm, nor na kynd of ennoy,Bot all weilfair, eys, and euerlestand joy;Quhais hie plesance, Lord, lat ws neuer mys! Amen.

THE TENTH BUKE OF ENEADOS

CAP. I

Quhou Jupiter the court of goddis dyd call,And Venus makis complaynt amangis thame all.On breid, or this, was warp and maid patentThe hevynly hald of God omnipotent.The kyng of men and fader of goddis allAne consale or a sessioun maid do call,Amang the spretis abufe and goddis gret,Within hys sterrit hevyn and mylky set:Quharfra, amyd hys trone sittand full hie,Our all the erd he mycht behald and seThe Troianys castellys, and the pepill Latyne.Down sat the Goddis in thar segis dyvyne,The faldyn ȝettis baith vp warpyt braid;First Jove hym self begouth, and thus he said.O hevynly wightis, of gret power and mycht,Quhou is betyd ȝour myndis bene sa lycht,That ȝour decreit fatal and sentens hieRetretit thus and turnyt bakwartis suld be?Or quhy with frawart myndis now of laytAganys ȝour ressonabill oraclys ȝe debait?My will was not at the ItalianysIn batale suld concur contrar Troianys.Quhat maner discord be this at we se,Expres agane our inhibitioun? said he:Quhat dreid or reuerens thame, or thame, hes movytTo ryn till armys, and rasys weir controvit?Or hes sic wys persuadyt to bargane,With bludy wapynnys rent, and mony slane?Haist not the sesson to provoke nor prevene;Of batale cum sal detfull tyme bedene,Heireftir, quhen the fers burgh of CartageTo Romys boundis, in thar feirfull rage,Ane huge myscheif and gret qualm send sall,And thyrll the hie montanys lyke a wall:Than war just tyme in wreth to mak debait,Than war the tyme to rug and reif thus gait.Now of sic thingis leif and desist; with meGlaidly do makis frendly amyte.A few wordis on this wys Jupiter said;Bot not in quhoyn wordis him answer maidThe fresch goldyn Venus: O thou, quod sche,Fader of all, O eternal powste,Regnand abuse all men, and Goddis eik,To the I cum, the rewthfully beseik,Sen thar nane other maieste bene, ne glor,That in sik neid may help ws to implor.Thow seys quhou, with bost and felloun feir,The Rutilianys makis gret derray and steir;And quhou Turnus, pransand on semly stedis,Throw owt the ostis rydis in steill wedis;And quhou orpyt and prowdly ruschis heAmyd Troianys, be fawour of Mars, quod sche.The strenth of wallys, nor the portis schet,May nocht salf Troianys; lo, within the ȝet,Amyd the clos muralȝeis and paill,And dowbill dikis, quhou thai thame assaill,Quhill the fowceis of blude rynnys on spait:Eneas absent of this na thing wait.Quhidder gif that thou list suffir neuermarThar sege scalit, nor thame fre of dangar?Behald agane abowt new Troys wall,Ȝit bot begyn to byg, and not clos all,Quhou inveroun musteris thar ennemyis:Ane other ost and sege abowt thame lyis,And newly, lo, Tedeus son, not farFrom Arpos cite into Calabar,To wery Troianys movis, Diomed.I feill agane my wondis newly bleid;And I, thy blude, thi get, and douchter schene,Ȝit mortale wapynnys mon thoil eik and sustene!Gyf the Troianys, but thy benevolens,Or repugnant to thy magnificens,Hes socht onto the cost of Italy,Lat thame be punyst and thar cryme aby;And I sall suythly stand content for me,Thou mak thame na kynd help nor ȝit supple.Bot gif thai followit haue for thar behufeSa feill responsis of the Goddis abufe,With syndry admonitiouns, charge, and redisOf the infernal wightis and spretis that ded is,Than wald I knaw the caus or resson quhyThat ony mycht pervert or ȝit bewryThy commandmentis? how, or quharfor, may thaiNew fatys mak, and the ald do away?Quhat nedis to rehers, quhou on the costOf Scycilly thar schippis brynt war lost?Or quharto suld I dwel, to schaw ȝou thus,Quhou be the God of tempest, Eolus,The rageand wyndis send war our alquhar,Or Iris catchit throw clowdis of the ayr?Now movyt eyk bene fendlych wightis affrayt:Befor, only that chance was onassayt;Bot now Alecto newly is furth sentInto the ovir warld, that fell torment,With Bacchus fury enragit by and by,Walkand throu all citeis of Italy.Na thyng I paus on the empyre, quod sche,Allthocht we hoip had at sic thing suld be,Quhen fortoun schew tharof sum apperans:Lat thame be victour quham thou lyst avans.And gif na realm in this warld remanys,Quhom thy stern spous list geif to the Troianys,I the beseik of Troy by the rewyne,By that subuersioun rekand, and huge pyne,Suffyr that ȝyng Ascanyus mot beSalf fra all wapynnys, and of perrell fre;And, at the lest, in this ilk mortall stryveSuffir thy nevo to remane alyve.As for Ene, forsuyth, I mak na cair:Thoill hym in onkowth stremys, as he was ayr,Be dryve, and warpyt euery sey abowt,To follow furth in danger and in dowtQuhat curs and went at fortoun lyst hym sent;Mot it ples the fader omnipotentThat I may bot defend ȝon litill page,And hym withdraw from this fers weris rage.I haue in Cipyr the cite Amathus,And the hie standand burgh that hayt Paphus,And eik the ille yclepyt Cythera,The hallowyt hald als of Idalya,Quhar, rendryt vp all armys in that stede,Duryng hys age he sobir lyfe may led.And command eik with gret fors and mastryThe burgh of Cartage down thryng Italy;Fra thyne sal na thing resist nor gaynstandContrar citeis of Tyre or Affrik land.Quhat proffit has it done, or avantage,Of Troys batale to haue eschape the rage,And throw amyd the Grekis fyrys eikHaue fled away, and throw the sey haue seik,Sa feill dangeris bywent and ourdryveOur streym and landis; gyf that thus belyveTroianys hes socht till Itaill, to vpsetNew Troys wallys, tobe agane doun bet?Had not bene bettir thame in thar natyve hauldHad syttin still amang the assys cauld,And lattyr isillys of thar kynd cuntre,Or barrand soyll quhar Troy was wont tobe,Than thus, fra ded to ded, from payn to payn,Be catchit on, and euery day be slane?Restor, I pray the, to thai wrachit wightisXanthus and Symoes, fludis quhilk of rychtisWas wont tobe thar propyr herytage:O fader, suffir the fey Troiane barnageTo seik agane quhat hard myschance befallysTo Troy or Ilion with thar brokyn wallys.

CAP. II

To Venus complaynt Juno fra end till endMaid hasty ansuer, hir actioun to defend.The queyn Juno than, but mair abayd,Prykkyt with felloun fury thus furthbrayd:Quhy doys thou, said scho, to me sik offens,Constrenyng me brek clos profund sylens,And with thy wordis, quhar ayr I was koy,Prouokis to publys and schaw myne hyd ennoy?Quhat maner man, or quhilk of goddis, lat se,To move batale constrenyt hes Ene,Or to engyre hym self to Latyn kyngAs mortal fa, within hys proper ryng?I geif the cace, to Italy socht heOf the fatys by the autoryte,Provokyt tharto be the wyld dotageOf wod Cassandra in hir fury rage:Lat se, for all this, gyf that anys in sportTo leif hys strenthis we dyd hym exhort;Or forto put hys lyfe in ony danger;To sayll, or submyt hym to wyndis seir?Lat se, gyf we hym causyt to walk at large,And till ane bab commyt the batellis charge,And governance haill of hys cite wallys?Lat se gyf we, how evir the chance befallys,Persuadyt hym forto commove and steirOther quyet pepill with hym to rays the weir,Or till adione vp frendschip and allyWith Tyrrhene pepill and folk of Tuscany?Quhat God amovit hym with sic a gawdIn hys dedis to oys sik slyght and frawd,Or quhilk of our hard poweris wrocht sic thyng?Quhar was Juno with all, this lady ȝyng?Or quhar was sche also quhen, ȝistir nycht,Irys was send down throu the clowdis brycht?Is this a thing full onlesum, but let,Thocht Italianys with flambys ombesetThe new cite of Troy vprysand, lo?And is it not full gret dispyt alsoThat, in hys natyve land and faderis ryng,Turnus remane, or pretend tobe kyng,Quhamto the God Pylumnus grandschir is,And haly nymphe Venylia moder, I wys?Quhat! thinkis thou lesum is at Troianys infeirViolens to mak with brandis of mortall weirAgane Latynys, syk onkowth heritageTyll occupy and subdew in bondage,And thar catale in spreth to dryve away?Quhat! haldis thou lesum als, I pray the say,From otheris to withdraw sa thyftuuslyThar eldfaderis and maist tendyr ally,Or, from betwix thar breist and armys tway,Thar treutht plyght spowsys forto reif away?To cum and beseik trewys in strange landis,With syng or takyn of paix born in thar handis;And, netheles, to mak reddy for weir,Purvay thar schippis, provide armour and geir?To salf Ene, hes thou not power and mychtFrom Grekis handis hym to withdraw be slycht,And set in sted of that man, light as lynd,Owder a clowd or a waist puft of wynd?And eik thou may transform the schippis, quod sche,Intil alsmony Goddessis of the see:Bot, be the contrary, Rutilyanys ofspryngWe suld support, that is forbodyn thyng!Thy son Ene, mysknawyng this deray,As thou allegis, is absent now away:And quhat iniurys, absent mot he remane,And ignorant for ay of this bargane?Thow has Paphos, thyne is Idalia,And thyne mot be the ile of Cithera:Sen thou hes all thir at command and will,Lat other folkis in paix and rest dwell styll.Quharto assalzeis thou a strang cite,That hes bene oft exercyt in melle,And lyst invaid pepill with hartis kene?I can not fynd quhat occasioun ȝe meyn.Haue we etlyt the Phrigyane febill geirDown from the grund to welt our into weir?Quhidder was it we, or than Parys, that faltyt,That wrachit Troianys by Grekis war assaltit?Quhat was the caus, that Europ and AsyaTo rays the weir in armys war sa thraAganyst otheris, and thar auld allyansWith thiftuus reif to brek on sic myschans?Was I not governour and cheif ledar thar,The tyme quhen that the Troiane adulterarOmbesegyt the cite of Spartha,And the queyn Heleyn reft and brocht awa?Or quhidder gif I evir into that weirMynysterit dartis, wapynnys, or sic geir?Or ȝit that bargane stuffyt or bet, lat se,With Cupydis blynd lust and subtilite?Than had bene honest tyme, and ganand baith,Till haue previdit for thy frendis skaith:Now, al to layt, with thyne iniust complantisAganyst ws thou rysis, and attantisForto warp owt thy vane wordis chydyng,Quhilk certis may avale the in na thing.With siclyke wordis Juno fra end to endGan hir querrell sustene and als defend;And all the hevynly wightis dyd quhyspir and rown,In opynyonys full diuers, vp and down:Lyke as first, or wyndis blast be persave,The swouch is hard within the woddis waif,With frasyng soundis quhisland, ȝit onknawQuharof cumis this bruyt owt throw the schaw;All thocht it be to maryneris a syng,Of wyndis blast to follow sur taknyng.The Fader than omnipotent maist hie,That our all thingis hes souerane maieste,Begouth to say; and, quhen he spak, all cessyt:The hevynly heich hows of Goddis was pecyt;The erthis grund schuke trymlyng for feir,And still, but movyng, stud the hevynys cleir;The wyndis eik thar blastis lowynt sone;The sey calmyt hys fludis playn abone.Ressaue, quod he, my sawis, and tak tent,And thir my wordis within ȝour myndis emprent.Sen that algatis ȝit may not sufferit beLatynys considir with Troianys and Ene,Nor ȝe can nocht mak end of ȝour debait,I sall me hald indifferent, the meyn gait,And as for that, put na diuersyteQuhiddir so Italianys or Troianys thai be;Quhow evir this day the fortoun with thame standis,Bruke weill thar chance and werd on athir handis,Lat ich of thame hys hoip and fortoun sew:Quhidder so the fatys hes determyt of newTroianys tobe assegit with ItalianysTo thar myscheif, or wraik of the Troianys,Quhilkis with frawart admonytions sa langPeraventour hes errit and gane wrang;Nowder Troianys nor Rutilianys freith will I.Lat athir of thame thar awin fortoun stand by,And bruke thar wark thai haue begun; but faill,Kyng Jupiter salbe to all equale.The fatis sal provyd a way mair habill.And with that word, fortill hald ferm and stabillHys godly aith and promys sworn hes he,Be Stix the flude, Pluto hys broderis see,Be that ilk pykky layk with brays blak,And laithly golf, to kepe all that he spak;And, til afferm hys aith, at hys lykyngThe hevynnys all maid trymbill, for a syng.Thus endit was the consale, and al doyn,And Jupiter rays fra hys goldyn troyn:Quham hevynly wightis amyddis thame with joyOntill hys chymmys ryall dyd convoy.

CAP. III

Quhou the Troianys defendis thar cyte,Eneas absent sekand mair supple.Duryng this quhile, all the Rutilianys stowtThe cite portis lappit rownd abowt,Forto down bet the Troianys, euery fyre,Inveroun all the wallys with hait fyre.Eneas barnage, at myschefis hugeThus ombeset, and segyt but refuge,Inclusyt war but hop to wyn away,And sobyrly at defens, as thai may,On the hie towris hedis stud on raw:Ful thyn the cirkyllys of the wallys lawThai mannyt abowt; for in the first front studeJasyus, Imbrasus son, and eik the gudeTymetes, son of strang Icetoan,And by thame alsso the Assaracus twane,The eldar Thybrys with Castor full wroth;Brethir germane to kyng Sarpedon boith,Quham Clarus had, and Hemon, ferys twa,Followyt from the hie realm of Lycya.Ane Agmon of Lyrnesya fast tharbyPresys with all the fors in hys bodyA felloun stone to welt the wallys tyll,Quhilk semyt be a gret part of a hyll;Na les of statur than hys fader ClytyusWas he, nor ellys hys brother Mnestheus.With dartis thai assaill the cite fast,And thai defend with slungis and stane cast;Sum presys thik the wyld fyre in to slyng,The arrowys flaw spangand fra euery stryng.The Dardane child, the ȝyng Ascanyus,Principall thocht and cuyr of Dame Venus,Amyd the rowtis, in covert quhar he ȝeid,Thar mycht be seyn in hys fresch lustyhed,Lyke as ane gem, with hys brycht hew schynyng,Departis the gold set amydwart the ryng,Or in the crownell pyght, or rych hynger,Quhilk doys the nek array, or the hed ger;And mair semly than evir bane to se,Craftely closyt within the box of tre,Or than amyd the blak terebynthyneGrowys by Orycia: and, as the geit dois schyne,Hys curland lokkis hyngis down weill dekAbout hys schuldris our hys mylk quhyte nek;Ane circulet of plyabill gold so bryghtAbuf hys haris apon hys hed weil pyght.Thow Ismarus, of magnanymyteFulfyllit, eik thar myght men the se,Invnctand venemus schaftis the ilk tyde,Addres dartis, and wyrk wondis full wyde;Cummyn of the gentill blude of Meony,In Lyde cuntre born thou was, fast byThe plentuus sulze quhar the goldyn ryverPactolus warpys on grund the gold vre cleir.Reddy at hand was Mnestheus wight,Quham the renowne of this ȝistir nycht,For that he Turnus our the dychys drave,Full prowd maid in hys curage our the laif:With hym was Capys thar alsso, quham byThe town Capua is namyt in Champany.Thus ather party into hard barganyngStude at debait, quhill Eneas the kyng,With all hys ferys, baith day and mydnychtSlydis throw owt the salt famys lyght.For eftir that fra kyng Evander heDepartit was, as heir abufe said we,And entrit in amyd the Tuscane tentis,The kyng he socht, and tald hym hys ententis,Hys name to hym rehersyng, and hys blude;And hys desyre, fully to conclude,Hes schawyn planely, twychand quhat he socht,And quhat supple alsso with hym he brocht;And tald quhat army prowd MezentyusHad convenyt, and how the bald TurnusSo violent and fers was in hys will,Exhortyng hym to tak gude heyd heirtill;And how instabill was all warldis chance,All manis surte hyngand in ballance:And onto this hys request and prayerAdionyt hes on ful gudly maner.Thar was na mair delay, bot Tarchon kyngAl reddy was to fulfyll hys lykyng,With moblys and all ryches at command,And vp gan knyt thar fordward and cunnandOf amyte and perpetuall ally:Than of the fatys fre, in thar navy,At command of the Goddis, pepill TuscaneAr entrit in thar schyppys euerilkane,Submytting thame ontill a strange duke.Eneas barge than furth the vayage tukeBefor the laif, as almeral of the flote,And in hir stevyn kervyn full weil, God wot,The lyonys that the Phrygyane armys bene;Abufe the quhilkis porturat fair and greynWas Ida forest, to fugytyve TroianysThar best belovyt wod and natyve wanys.In hyr was set the gret prynce Eneas,That with hym self can mony thing cumpasTwychyng the chancis of batal in that tyde:Pallas adionyt sat by hys left syde,And he at hym dyd wysly ask and speirThe curs and namys of the starnys cleir,Quhilk in the styl hevyn schynys on the nycht:Now speris he, franand with all hys myght,To knaw Eneas wandryng be the see,And quhou huge payn he had on landis dre.