The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

CAP. XIV

Fra Mezentius knew ȝong Lawsus deces,Hym to revenge his lyfe lost in the pres.The meyn sesson, hys fader with his feris,Down at the fludis syde of Tyberis,Stanschit his wondis with watyr by and by,Weschand the blude and swait from hys body.Hys helm of steil besyde hym hang weil neApon a grayn or branch of a grene tre;Hys other weghty harnes, gud in neid,Lay on the gyrs besyde hym in the meid;Hys trasty chosyn verlettis hym abowt:And he ful for wondyt, all in dowt,Stude lenand with hys wery nek and bonysOwt our a bowand tre, with sair gronys;Hys weil kemmyt berd, hyngand ful strauchtApon his breist, onto hys gyrdill raucht:And feill tymys on Lawsus menys he,Prayand full oft he mycht hym falsly se,And mony messyngeris onto hym hes send,To withdraw hym the feild, and to defendThat he abyde na langar in bargane,And schaw quhat sorow for hym hys fader had tane.Bot than Lawsus ded owt of the feildHys wofull feris careit apon a scheild,Wepand sa gret a man was brocht to grond,And discumfyt with sa grysly a wond.Mezentius mynd and consait, the ilk tyde,Suspekand the harmys quhilkis war betyde,On far considerit the caus of thar murnyng,And on hys canos hair the dust can slyng,With mekill powdir fyland hys hasart hed;And baith hys handis in that sammyn stedTowart the hevin vphevis in a fary,And he the Goddis and starnys fast dyd wary;Syne, lenand on hys sonnys corps, thus cryis:O my deir child and tendir get heir lyis!Had I sa gret appetit and delyteOnto this wrachit lyfe, sa ful of syte,That I the sufferit to entyr in my stedVndre our fays hand, and with thy dedMy lyfe is salfit? Ha, I thy fader heir,Quhilk the begat, my only son sa deir,Suld I be salf and lyfand eftir the,Throu tha sa grisly wondis that I se?Allace, onto me, wrachit catyve thing,Myne exill now at last and banysyngBecummyn is hard and insufferabill!The stound of deth, the panys lamentabill,Is deip engravyn in my hart onsound;Now am I smyttyn with the mortal wond!I, the self man was the caus of thy ded,With my trespas, my child, in euery stedFilyt the glor and honour of thy name,Thy hie renovn bespottand with my schame,As I that was, by invy and haitrentOf my awin pepill, with thar haill assent,Expellit from my ceptre and my ryng,And was adettyt, for my mysdoyngOnto our cuntre, till haue sufferit pane:I aucht and worthy was to haue bene slane,And to haue ȝald this wikkyt sawle of myneBe all maner of turment and of pyne,Fortill amend myne offencis and fed.Ha, now I lyf, allace! and thou art ded!Ȝit want I not off men the cumpany,Nowder lyght of lyfe, ne cleirnes of the sky,Bot soyn I sal thame leif and part tharfra.And sayand thus, sammyn with mynd ful thraHe rasyt hym vp apon hys wondit thee,And determyt to revenge hym or de:For thocht the violens of hys sair smartMaid hym onfery, ȝit hys stalwart hartAnd curage ondekeit was gude in neid.He bad ga fech Rhebus, hys ryall sted,Quhilk was hys wirschip and hys comfort haill,And hys support hys fays to assaill;For by thys hors in euery gret iourneHame fra the feild victour eschapit he.Quhamto Mezentyus, but mair abaid,Seand the steid drowpand and sad, thus said:Rhebus, we twa hes levit lang yfeir,Gyf that to mortal wightis in this erd heirOny tyme may be reput lang, quod he.Owder this day beys thou revengear with meOf Lawsus dolorus deith, and wrek our schame,And sall as victour with the bryngyn hameȜon bludy spulȝe, and Eneas hed;Or, gif na fors nor strenth into that stedWill suffir ony way that it be so,We sal in feild sammyn de baith two.For, O moist forcy steid, my lovyt foill,I can na wys beleif at thou may thoillTo be at ony otheris commandment,Nor that the lift dedeyn, gif I war schent,Till obey ony master or lord Troiane.And sayand thus, ful towartly onaneThe steid bekend held to hys schulder plat,And he at eys apon hys bak doun sat;And bath hys handis fillyt with dartis keyn,With helm on hed burnyst brycht and scheyn,Abuf the quhilk hys tymbret buklyt was,Lyke till a lokryt mayn with mony fas.And into sik array with swyft curs heFurth steris hys steid, and draif in the melle.Deip in hys hart boldynnys the felloun schame,Myxit with dolour, angir, and defame;The fervent luf of hys son ȝyng of ageGan catchyng hym into the furyus rage;Tharto alsso persuadis to the fyghtHys hors weil knawin hys hardyment and mycht:And, in sik poynt, throw owt the rowtis allWith mychty voce thrys dyd Eneas call.Eneas hard hym cry, and weil hym knew,And glaid tharof can towartis hym persew,And prayand says; the fader of Goddis hie,And eik mychty Apollo, that grant to me,Thou wald begyn in bargan on this landTo mell with me, and to meyt hand for hand.Thus carpyt he, and with stern lance, but tary,Furth steppys forto meyt hys aduersary.Bot Mezentius, seand hym cumand,Cryit to hym onon and bad hym stand:O thou maist cruell aduersar, said he,Quhat wenys thou so to effray and bost me,Sen thou my son has me bereft this day,Quhilk was only the maner and the wayQuharby thou mycht ourcum me and distroy?Now, sen that I haue tynt all warldis joy,Nowder I abhor the ded, to starve in fyght,Nor rak I ocht of ony Goddis mycht.Desist, and ces to bost me or manas,For I am cum to de in this ilk plas;Bot first I bryng the thir rewards, quod he.With that word, at his fa a dart leyt fle,And eftir that ane other has he cast,And syne ane other has he fixit fast,About hym prekand in a cumpas large:Bot all thir dyntis sustenyt the goldin targe.Thrys on the left half fast, as he war wod,About Eneas raid he quhar he stude,Thik with hys handis swakkand dartis keyn:And thrys this Troiane prynce our all the greyn,Intil hys stalwart stelyt scheild stikand owt,Lyke a hair wod the dartis bair abowt.At last, as he ennoyt of this deray,This irksum traysyng, jowkyng, and delay,And cumryt wolx sa mony dartis invaneThus oft to draw furth and to cast agane,As he that was matchit that tyme, but faill,With hys fa man in bargane inequale,Quhilk ay was at avantage and onflocht,Full mony thing revoluyt he in thocht;Syne on that weirman ruschit he in teyn:In the forhed, betwix the horsys eyn,He kest hys speir with all his fors and mycht.Vpstendis thar the stalwart steid on hycht,And with his helys flang up in the ayr;Down swakkis the knycht sone with a fellon fair,Foundris fordwart flatlyngis on hys spald,Ourquhelmyt the man, and can hys feit onfald.Than the Latynys, and eik pepill Troianys,The hevynnys dyndlit with a schowt at anys.Eneas gyrd abufe hym with a braid,Hynt furth hys swerd, and forthir thus he said:Quhar is he now, Mezentius, sa stern?Quhar is the fers stowt curage of that bern?Quhamto Mezentius, this ilk prynce Tyrrheyn,Fra that he mycht alyftyn vp his eynTo se the hevynnys licht, and draw hys braith,And hys rycht mynd agane recoverit haith,Thus answeris: O thou dispituus fo,Quharto me chydis thou reprochand so,And manancis me to the ded by and by?Of my slauchter I think na villany,Nor on sik wys heir com I not in feild,That I stand aw to swelt vnder my scheild;Nor, I beleif, na frendschip in thy handis,Nane syk trety of sawchnyng nor cunnandis,My son Lawsus band vp with the, perfay.Bot of a thyng I the beseik and pray,Gif ony plesour may be grantit or beldTill aduersaris, that lyis venquyst in feild;That is to knaw, suffir my body haueAne sepultur, and with erd be bygrave.I knaw abowt me standand in this stedMy folkis byttyr haitrent and gret feid:Defend me from thar furour, I requeir,And grant my corps, besyde my sonnys infeir,Into sum tumbe entyrit for tobe.And sayand thus, knawand at he most de,Befor hys eyn persavyt the burnyst brand,That throuch hys gorge went from Eneas hand;Within hys armour, schortly to conclude,Furth bruschit the sawle with gret stremys of blude.Be this the son declynyt was almost,So that the Latynys and Rutilian ost,Quhat for the absens of thar duke Turnus,And new slauchter of bald Mezentius,Withdrew thame to thar raset in affray,And Troianys went onto thar rest quhil day.

THE PROLOUG OF THE ELEVINT BUKE

Thow hie renown of Martis chevalry,Quhilk gladis euery gentill wight to heir,Gif thou mycht Mars and Hercules deify,Quharfor beyn nobillys to follow prowes swer?Weill auchtin eldris exemplis ws to steirTyll hie curage, all honour till ensew:Quhen we consider quhat wirschip tharof grew,All vyce detest, and vertu lat ws leyr.Prowes, but vyce, is provit lefull thyngBy haly scriptur into syndry place,Be Machabeus, Josue, Dauid kyng,Mychael, and eyk hys angellys full of grace,That can the dragon furth of hevynnys chaceWith vailȝeand dyntis of ferm myndis contrar:Nane other strokis nor wapynnys had thai thar,Nother speir, buge, pol ax, swerd, knyfe, nor mace.In takynnyng that in chevalry or fyghtOur myndis suld haue just ententioun,The grond of batale fundyt apon rycht;Not for thou lyst to mak discentioun,To seik occasyons of contentioun,Bot rype thy querrell, and discus it plane:Wrangis to reddres suld wer be vndertane,For na conquest, reif, skat, nor pensioun.To speke of moral vertuus hardyment,Or rather of dyvyne, is myne entent;For warldly strenth is febill and impotentIn Goddis sight, and insufficient.The Psalmyst says, that God is not contentIn mannys stalwart lymmys nor strenth of cors,Bot into thame that trastis in hys fors,Askand mercy, and dredand jugement.Strang fortitud, quhilk hardyment cleip we,Abuf the quhilk the vertu soueraneAccordyng pryncis, hecht magnanymyte,Is a bonte set betwix vicis twane:Of quham fuyl hardynes clepit is the tane,That vndertakis all perrellis but avice;The tother is namyt schamefull cowardyce,Voyd of curage, and dolf as ony stane.The first is hardy all owt by mesur,Of tyme nor rayson gevis he na cuyr,No dowt he castis, bot all thinkis suyr,Nocht may he suffir, nor hys hait endur:The tother is of all prowes sa puyr,That evir he standis in feir and felloun dreid,And nevir dar vndertak a douchty deid,Bot doith all curage and all manheid smuyr.The first soundis towart vertu sum deill,Hardy he is, couth he be avyse;Of hardyment the tother has na feill:Quhou may curage and cowardys agre?Of fortitud to compt ȝou euery gre,As Arestotill in hys Ethikis doith expres,It wald, as now, conteyn our lang proces;Quharfor of other chevalry carp will we.Gyf Crystis faithfull knychtis lyst ws be,So as we aucht, and promyst hes at font,Than mon we byde baldly, and neuer fle,Nowder be abasyt, tepyt, nor ȝit blunt,Nor as cowartis to eschew the first dunt.Pawle witnessith, that nane sall wyn the crown,Bot he quhilk dewly makis hym reddy bownTo stand wightly, and feght in the forfront.And quha that sall nocht wyn the crown of meid,That is to say, the euerlestand blys,The fyre eternall neidlyngis most thai dreid:For Cryst into his gospell says, I wys,Quha bydis nocht with me contrar me is:And gif thou be aganyst God, but weirThan art thou wageour onto Lucifer.God salf ws all from sik a fyre as this!The armour of our chevalry, perfay,So the Apostyll techis ws expres,Not corporall bot sperituall beyn thai,Our conquyst haill, our vassellage and prowes,Aganyft spretis and pryncis of myrknes;Not agane man, owr awyn brother and mait,Nor ȝit aganyst our maker to debait,As rabell tyll all vertu and gudnes.The flesch debatis aganys the spiritual gost,Hys hie curage with sensual lust to law,And, be the body victor, baith ar lost;The spreit wald vp, the cors ay down list draw:Thy secund fa the warld, ane other thraw,Makis strang assaltis of covatys and estait,Aganyst quham is full perrellus debait;Thir fays famyliar beyn full quaynt to knaw.Lyff in thy flesch as master of thy corps,Lyf in this warld as nocht ay to remane;Resist the fendis slycht with all thy fors,He is thy ancyent ennemy, werst of ane;A thousand wylys he hes, and mony a trane,He kendillis oft thy flesch in byrnand heit,He causys wrachit plesans seym full sweit,And, for nocht, of this fals warld makis the fane.He is thy fa and aduersar principall,Of promyssioun wald the expell the land,For he the sammyn lost, and caucht a fall;Enfors the strangly contrar hym to stand.Rays hie the targe of faith vp in thy hand,On hed the halsum helm of hoip onlace,In cheryte thy body all embrace,And of devoit oryson mak thy brand.Stand at defens, and schrynk not for a schore:Thynk on the haly marthyris at ar went,Thynk on the payn of hell, and endles glore,Thynk quhou thy Lord for the on rude was rent,Thynk, and thou fle fra hym, than art thou schent,Thynk all thou sufferis ontyll hys paynis nocht is,Thynk with quhou precyus pryce as thy sawll bocht is,And ay the moder of grace in mynd enprent.Feill beyn thy fays, fers, and full of slycht,Bot be thou stalwart campioun and knycht;In feild of grace with forsaid armour brychtThou may debait thame lyghtly in ilk fyght:For of fre will thyne acton is sa wightNane may it pers, wilt thou resist and stand;Becum thow cowart, crawdoun recryand,And by consent cry cok, thy ded is dycht.Thynk quhou that fa is waik and impotent,May venquys nane bot thame lyst be ourcum;He sal the nevir ourset, but thy consent.Eith is defens to say nay, or be dum;And for thy weill, lo, thys is all and sum:Consent nevir, and thou sall nevir be lost,By disassent thou may venquys ane ost,And, for anys ȝa, tyne thy meid euery crum.Na wondir is; for by exempill we se,Quha servys hys souerane intill all degreFull mony days, and eftir syne gif heCommyttis anys trayson, suld he nocht de,Les than hys prynce, of gret humanyte,Pardoun hys falt for hys lang trew seruys,Gyf he wald mercy craif? The sammyn wysWe beyn forgevyn, so that repent will we.Bot quhat avalys begyn a strang melle,Syne ȝeld the to thy fa, but ony quhy,Or cowartly to tak the bak and fle?Na; thar sall nane optene hie victory,Les thai sustene the bargane dowchtely;And quha so perseueris to the endAne conquerour and campioun euir is kend,With palm of triumphe, honour, and glory.The maist onsilly kynd of fortoun isTo haue beyn happy; Boetius techis so;As, to haue beyn in welth and hartis blys,And now tobe dekeit and in wo:Richt so, quha vertuus was, and fallys tharfro. 25Of verray rayson malewrus hait is he;And ȝit, by grace and hys fre volunte,He may recovir meryt agane alsso.I say, be grace; for quhen thou art in grace,Thou may eik grace to grace, ay mor and mor;Bot quhen thou fallys be syn tharfra, allace!Of thy meryte thou gettis hyr nevirmor:Ȝit quhen thou dewly disponys the tharfor,Doand all that in the thar may be done,Of hys gudnes the etern Lord alssoneRestorys the meryt, with grace in arlys of glore.Haill thy meryt thou had tofor thy fall,That is to say, thy warkis meritabill,Restorit ar agane baith gret and small,And grace tharto, quhilk is sa profitabillThat thou tharby to eik meryt art habill;Bot nocht ilk gre of grace thou had befor;That gettis thou not sa soyn, quhill forthyrmor:Be war tharfor, fall not, bot standis stabill.For lyke as quha offendit had hys lord,That lang tofor hys trew servand had bene,And syne agane becumis at ane accordWith hys master, all thocht hys lord wald meynOn hys ald seruyce, ȝit netheles, I weyn,He sall nocht soyn be tendir, as he was ayr:Be war tharwith, and kepe ȝou fra the snair,Tyne nocht ȝour laubour and ȝour thank betweyn.Exempill takis of this prynce Ene,That, for hys fatale cuntre of behest,Sa feill dangeris sustenyt on land and see,Syk stryfe in stour sa oft with speir in rest,Quhill he hys realm conquest bath west and est:Sen all this dyd he for a temporall ryng,Pres ws to wyn the kynryk ay lestyng,Addres ws fast fortill opteyn that fest.He may be callyt, as says sanct Augustyn,Ane delicat, owr esy, crystyn knycht,Refusys to thoill traval, sturt, or pyne,And but debait wenys till optene the fyght.To wyn the feild, and nevir preif thy mycht,That war nyce thyng: thy kyng Cryste in batellQuhat sufferit he for the, O catyve wight!Lyis thou at eys, thy prynce in bargane fell?Aschamys of our sleutht and cowardyce!Seand thir gentyles and the paganys aldEnsew vertu, and eschew euery vyce,And for sa schort renown warryn so baldTo susteyn weir and panys teyr ontald;Than lat ws stryve that realm forto posseid,The quhilk was hecht till Abraham and hys seyd:Lord, at ws wrocht and bocht, grant ws that hald!

THE ELEVINT BUKE OF ENEADOS

CAP. I

Eftir the feild Enee maid sacrifyce,Offerand the spulȝe to Mars, as was the gys.Duryng this quhile, furth of the sey dyd spryngThe fresch Aurora with the brycht dawyng.Ene, albeyt hys hasty thochtfull curisConstrenyt hym, as twychyng sepulturisOf hys folkis new slane and berying,Forto provide a tyme mast accordyng,And gretly eik in mynd he trublyt wasFor the slauchtyr and ded corps of Pallas;Ȝit netheles, as first the son vpsprent,Scheddyng hys bemys in the orient,As victor he onto the Goddis als tyteWith sacryfyce can hys vowys acquyte.Ane akyn tre, was huge gret and squar,The branchis sned and kut abowt alquhar,Apoun a motys hycht vpset has he,And all with schynand armour cled the tre:The coyt armour and spulȝe tharon hangOf Mezentius, the vailȝeand campioun strang;To the, gret God of stryfe, armypotent,In syng of trophe tharon was vpstentHys cryst and hewmet all besprent with blude,The brokyn trunschions of hys speris rude,And hys fyne hawbryk, with speir, swerd, and macis,Assayt and persyt into twys sax placis;Hys stelyt scheild dyd on the left syde hyng;Abowt hys gorget, or hys nek armyng,Was hung hys swerd with evor scawbart fyne.And thus exortis Ene hys ferys syne:The chiftanys all abowt hym lowkyt war,Quhilk glaidsum warryn of this joyus fair.O douchty men, quod he, worthy in weris,The grettast part of our warkis and afferisBeyn endit now, sa that in tyme cummyngAll feir and dreid ar passyt of ony thyng:Thir bene the spulȝe, and first weirly weid,Reft from the prowd kyng be my handis in deid;Lo, heir Mezentius venquyst lyis doun bet.Now to the wallys of Lawrent and the ȝetThe way is maid to kyng Latyn to wend.Tharfor addres ȝour myndis, and attendTo armys and to weirfar euery ane,Provydand in ȝour consatis for bargane;So that ȝhe reddy be, and na delayMay stoppyn ȝou, nor stunnys ane other day,Be ȝour awyn sleuth, for lak of gude forsycht,Gif ȝe onwarnyst beys callyt to the fycht:Alssone as fyrst the Goddis omnipotentBy sum sygnys or takyn lyst consentThe ensenȝeis and baneris be vphynt,And all the ȝonkeris meyt for swerdis dynt,Of thar tentis convoyt in array,Se ȝhe all reddy be than, but delay.And, in the meyn quhile, lat ws to erd haueThe corpsys of our fallowys onbegraue;Quhilk only honour is haldyn in daynteAt Acheron, the lawest hellys see.Pas on, he said; tha sawlys valȝeant,Quhilk, with habundans of thar blude bysprent,Has conquyst ws this realm apon sik wys,Do honour with thar funeral servys,And wirschip with thar finale last rewardis.Bot first, befor all corpsis of tha lardis,Ontill Evandrys dolorus citeOf ȝong Pallas the body send mon we;Quham, wantand na vertu nor prowes,The wofull day hes ws byreft expres,And with a wofull slauchter caucht, allace!Thus said he, wepand salt terys our hys face:Syne tuke hys vayage towart the ilk stedQuhar Pallas lyfles corps was lyggand ded;Quham ancyent Acetes thar dyd kepe,With flottyryt berd of terys all beweip;The quhilk Acetes had tofor ybeSquyer to kyng Evander, from the citeOf Parrha cummyn into Arcady,And at thys tyme was send in cumpanyWith hys deir fostyr child he had in cur,Bot not, as ayr, with happy aventur.About the corps alhaill the multitudOf servyturis and Troiane commonys stud,And dolorus Phrigyane wemen, on thar gys,With hair down schaik, and petuus spraichis and cryis.Bot, fra that enterit was Eneas baldWithin the portis of that large hald,A huge clamour thai rasyt and womentyng,Betand thar brestis quhill all the lyft dyd ryng;So lowd thar wofull bewalyng habundisThat all the palyce dynnys and resoundis.Thys prynce hym self, fra that he did behaldThe snaw quhite vissage of this Pallas bald,Hys hed vphald, mycht nocht the self sustene,And eik the gapand dedly wond hes sene,Maid by the sperys hed RutilyaneAmyd hys snerth and fair slekyt breist bane.With terys brystand from hys eyn, thus plenyt:O douchty child, maist worthy tobe menyt,Has fortoun me envyit sa far that, eftOur weill is cummyn, thus thou art me bereft,Sa that thou suld not se our ryng, said he,Nor ȝit as victor with prosperyteOnto thy faderis cite hame retour?Syk promys hecht I not the lattir hourTo thy fader Evandrus, quhen that heAt my departyng last embrasyt me,And send me to conquys a large empyre:And, dredand eyk for the, that lordly syreVs monyst tobe war and avyse,Becaus the men quhamwith to do had weWar bald and stern; said, we had wer at handWith bustuus folk, that weill in stryfe durst stand.Now, certis, he levand in hoip, invane,For thy prosper returnyng haym aganePerchans doith mak prayer and offerandis,Chargeand the altaris oft with hys awyn handis:Bot we hys lyfles child, quhilk aw na thyngOnto the Goddis of the hevynly ryng,With womentyng heir menand tendyrly,And vayn honour, accumpaneis by and by.O fey onhappy kyng Archadian!Now thy sonnys ded corps cruelly slaneThou sal behald: allace, the panys strang!This is our haymcom thou desyrit lang;This salbe our triumphe thou lang abaid,To se thy a son on hys beir tre laid!Ha! quhat, is this my promys and gret faith?Bot, O Evander, beys not with me wraith;Thou sall not se thy son was dryve abakWith schamefull wondis that he caucht in the bak:Ne thou hys fader, war he alyve this day,Suld nevir haue lak of hym, ne for hym prayFor hys desert he deit a schamefull deth;And now with honour hes he ȝald the breth.Bot netheles, quhat harm, ful ways me!Quhou large support, hey! quhat beld or suppleIn hym hes tynt Ausonya the ryng,And quhou gret deill hes lost Ascanyus ȝyng!

CAP. II

Ȝong Pallas corps is till Evander sent,With all honour accordyny hys tyrment.Quhen he bewalyt had on this maner,This wofull corps he bad do lyft on beir,And with hym send a thousand men in hyWalyt of euery rowt and cumpany,Forto convoy and do hym falloschipAt hys last honour and funeral wirschip,And tobe present at the lamentyngOf hys fader, to comfort hys murnyng;Thocht smal solace was that to hys regrait,Quhilk was sa huge, bot to hys estaitAccordit weill that sik thingis suld be,Quhen all wightis mycht rew on hym to se.Sum of Eneas ferys bisselyFlakis to plet thame presys by and by,And of small wikkyris forto beld a beirOf sowpill wandis and of bronys seir,Bund with the syonys or the twystis sleOf small rammell or stobys of akyn tre.Thyr beddis beldyt, or funeral lytteris,Syk tumbys as for ded corps efferis,With greyn burgionys and branchys fair and weillThai gan ourheld, and stentys euery deill:Amyd the quhilkis, of blumys apon a byngStrowyt full hie, thai laid this Pallas ȝyng;Lyggyn tharon als semly forto seAs is the fresch flowris schynand bewte,Newly pullyt vp from hys stalkis smaillWith tendyr fyngeris of the damysaill,Or the soft violet that doys freschly schyne,Or than the purpour flour, hayt jacynthyne;Quham all thocht the erth hys moder with sapHym nurys not, nor comfortis on hir lap,Ȝyt than hys schene cullour and figur glaidIs not all went, nor hys bewte defaid.Eneas syne twa robbys furth gart foldOf rych purpour and styf burd of gold,Quhilk vmquhil Dydo, Quheyn of Sydones,Of sik laubour full byssy tho, I ges,As at that tyme to ples hym wonder glaid,With hir awyn handis to hym wrocht and maid,Wovyn full weill, and brusyt as rych wedis,Of costly stuf and subtell goldyn thredis;And with the tane of thir full doloruslyEneas cled the ȝyng Pallas body,Tobe hys finall and hys last honour:Hys lokkis and hys harys the self hour,Quhilkis war forto be brynt in assys cald,Into the tother habyt dyd he fald.Abuf all thys, rewardis mony ane,Yconquest in this batall Lawrentane,In haill hepys with hym hes he send,And bad thai suld tak gud kepe and attendTo leid the pray per ordour pompusly.Feill horssys als he gaue thame by and by,With wapynnys eik, and other precyus geir,That he had reft hys fa men in the weir:The presoneris alsso, quham he had tak,He send with handis bund behynd thar bak,Quhilkis, at the obsequies or entyrment,To the infernal gostis suldbe sent,And with thar bludis sched, as was the gys,The funeral flambe strynkyll in sacrifys.He bad the capitanys and the dukis all,In syng of trophe or pomp triumphall,Gret perkis bair of treyn saplyng that squair is,Cled with the armour of thar aduersaris,To wryte and hyng tharon baith all and sumThe namys of thar ennemys ourcum.Furth led was the onsilly Acetes,Ourset with age, and sorow mycht nocht ces;Now bludyand hys awyn breist with hys fystis,Now with hys nalys hys face rentis and brystis,And oft down fallys spaldit on the erd,With mony gowl, and a full petuus rerd.And furth war led rych cartis for the nanys,Besprent with blude of the Rutylianys.And eftir com Aethon, hys werly steid,Dispulȝeit of hys harnessyng and weid;Wepand he went for wo, men mycht haue seynWith gret terys floddyrrit hys face and eyn.Ane bair hys helm, ane other bair hys speir;For the remanys of hys harnes and geir,Syk as hys rych gyrdill, and cotarmour,Turnus victor byreft hym in the stour.Furth haldis syne the drery cumpanyOf Troianys, and Tyrrheyn dukis thame by;And wofull Archadis, in syng of dolour, werisScheldis reversyt, and doun turnyt thar speris.And eftir that, per ordour, by and by,Thai beyn furth passyt euery cumpany,Eneas tho can styntyng and abaid,And with a petuus regrait thus he said:The horribill batellys of thir sammyn werisTyll otheris funerall womentyng and terysCallys ws from thens; we may nocht follow the,Thyne entyrment forto behald and se.Adew for ay, Pallas, beluffyt best,Fair weill for evyr intill eternall rest!Na mair he said, bot went towart new Troy,Entrand tharin with terys of ennoy.