The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

CAP. VIII

Juturna gydys hir brotheris cart rycht sleFrawart the batel, he suld nocht mache Enee.Quhen this was said, furth at the portis hee,Schakand in hand a gret speir, ischit he:With hym also to the feild ruschis owtAnteus, Mnestheus, and ane full thyk rowt;Alhaill the barnage flokkis furth atanys,Left voyd the tovn and strenth with wasty wanys.Than was the playn ourset, quha com behynd,With dusty stew of puldyr maid folk blynd,And, for stampyng and fell dynnyng of feyt,The erd movit and trymlyt euery streyt.Turnus, apon the party our rycht forgane,Persauyt thame thus sterand throw the plane,Thame saw also the pepill Ausonyanys,And the cald dreid for feir ran throw thar banys.First of the Latynys all, this ilke maidJuturna thame knew, and was not glaid;Scho hard the soundis and the fell deray,And quakand fast for feir hes fled away.Bot this Eneas, full bald vndyr scheild,With all hys ost drave throw the plane feld,And with hym swyftly bryngis our the bentA rowt coill blak of the stew, quhar he went.Lyke as the bub or plaig of fell tempest,Quhen that the clowdis brekis est or west,Dryvys by fors throw the sey to the land,Doand the cayrfull husbandis vnderstandThe gret myscheif tocum, and felloun wraik;Quhilk, with fair hartis quakand, allake, allaik!Says, lo ȝon bub sall stryke dovn growand treys,Doun bet our cornys, and by the ruyt vpheis,And far onbreid ourturn all doys vpstand:Hark! heir the swouch cumis brayand to the land.On siclyke wys this ilk chiftane TroianThe corsy pasand Osyris hes slane:Mnestheus kyllyt Archet, and AchatesByhedit has the wight Epulones;Gyas doun bet Vfens the gret captane;Dovn fell also the gret augurian,Tolumnyus him self, that the ilk dayThrew the first dart hys fays till assay.Vprysis than the clamour, and a scryQuhilk semyt wend onto the starnyt sky.Thar curs abowt than the RutilianysHes tane the flyght, and gave the bak atanys,Skatterit throw owt the feldis heir and thar,Quhil stovr of puldir vpstrikis in the air.Bot the chiftane, this vailȝeant Ene,Dedenȝeit nane doun bet as thai dyd fle,Ne thame invaid that met hym face for face,All thocht thai fawght with wappyn, swerd or mace;Bot throw the thikast sop of dust in hyOnly Turnus went to seik and aspy,And hym allane, accordyng the tretye,He askis and requiris into melle.With dreid heirof the mynd was smyttyn soOf Juturna, the verray virago;Quhilk term to expone, be myne avys,Is a woman exersand a mannys offys;Amyd the lyamys and the thetis tharDoun swakkis scho Metiscus the cartar,That Turnus char had forto rewle on hand,And left hym lygand far ȝond on the land,Fra the cart lymmowris warpit a gret way;And scho, in sted, hys office dyd assay,And with hir handis abowt writhis scheThe flexibill renys frawart the melle,Berand the lyknes in all maner thingOf Metiscus voce, person, and armyng.Als feill wrynklis and turnys can scho makAs dois the swallow with hir plumys blak,Fleand and seirsand swiftly thar and heirOur the gret lugyngis of sum myghty heir,Apon hir weyngis scummand euery sydeThir heich hallys, bene full large and wyde,Gadderand the small morcellis est and westTo bair hir byrdis chepand in thar nest;Now into gowsty porchis doith scho fle,Now by the donky stankis soundis sche:In siclike wys this Juturna belyfeThrow owt the ostis gan the horssis dryfe,Circuland abowt with swift fard of the cartThe feildis our all quhar in euery art,And schew hir bruthir Turnus in his char,Now brawland in this place, now voustand thar;Na be na way wald scho suffir that heAssembill hand for hand suld with Enee;Bot fled hym far, and frawart hym held ay,Writhand hir cartis curs ane other way.In na les haist Eneas on the bentHys quhelys turnys and writhis mony a went;The man he seirsis throw the effrait routis,And on hym callis with lowd cry and hie schowtis.And als feill sys as he his eyn kestApon his fa, al tymys he hym adrestTo chas hym with swyft curs throu the melle,On hors that semyt ryn as fowle dois fle;Bot evir als oft Juturna ane other artAwaywart turnys and writhis hyr broderis cart.And thus Eneas remanys all on flochtIn syndry motioun of ire, bot all for nocht:Allace! ne knawis he not now quhat to do:Diuers thochtis, and seir consatis, lo,Hys mynd in mony contrar purpos sent.And as he thus was trublit in entent,Mesapus, that on cace was neirhand by,And in hys left neif haldis all reddyTwa sowpill castyng speris hedit with steill,Of quham that ane full sovirly and weillTowart Ene addressit leit he glyde.Eneas hovit still the schote to abyde,Hym schrowdand vndir his armour and his scheild,Bowand hys howch, and stude a litill onheld:And, netheles, this speir, that scharply schar,Of hys basnet the tymbrell quyte doun bair,And smait away the creistit toppis hie.Than mair in greif and ire vpgrowis he,Seand hym catchit with dissait and slycht,Quhen that he hes persauyt in his sychtTurnus horsis drevyn ane other art,Awaywart turnyng sa feill sys his cart:Tho mony tymys lowd did he testifyGret Jupiter, quhou that sa wrangwislyHe was iniurit, and constrenyt to fight;To witnes drew he als with gret onrychtThe altaris of considerans violate;And now at last, full furyus and hait,The mydwart of his ennemys dyd invaid:With prospir chance of batale, sa onglaidAnd terribill to his fays walxis he,That hail, but ony differans of degre,All goith to wraik; for na man list he spair:A cruell slauchter he hes rasit thar.All kynd of wreth and breithfull ire now heLeyt slyp at large, but brydill, with renȝeis fre.

CAP. IX

Heir followys of the slauchter monyfaldMaid by Turnus and be Eneas bald.Quhat God sall now me techyng to enditeSa mony wondis and this cairfull syte?Or quha me lern in metyr to declarSa feill and diuers slauchteris as was thar,And gret deces of dukis in that sted,Our all the feildis strowyn lyggis ded,Quham euery ane sammyn hys curs abowtNow down bet Turnus, now Eneas stowt?O Jupiter, was it plesand to the,With sa gret motioun of crudelyteAthir pepill suld rusch on other in pres,Quhilkis eftir suldbe ane in etern pes?Eneas first, that tareit not to lang,Smate ane Sucron, a Rutilian strang;A grevous wond he hyt hym in the syde,Throw owt hys rybbys can the stif swerd glide,Persyt hys cost and breistis cundyt in hy,Thar as the fatale deth is maste hasty:This bargane first fermyt Troianys to stand,That langeir fled Turnus fra hand to hand.Tho Turnus has rencontyrit in the presAmycus, and hys brother Diores,Quham, fra thar horssis on the grond doun bet,On fut in feild strangly he ombeset:And the formast with a lang stif speirSmate ded, and with a swerd the tother in feir,Syne baith thar hedis hakkit of in hy,And at his cart thame hyngis by and by,The blude tharfra dreippand, tursys away.The self stound Eneas at ane assay,Or ane onset, hes kyllit Tanaus,Talon also, and the stowt Cethegus;Syne, eftyr thame, he kyllyt in the presThe sad and ay sorofull Onytes,Renownyt of Thebes blude, and the ofspryngDiscendyng down from Echion the kyng,And of hys moder born, Peridia.This othir chiftane, Turnus, killit twa,That brethir war, and owt of Lycia send,Appollois cuntre, Troianys to defend;And eftir thame ane Meneit hes he slane,A ȝong man that was born ane Archadane,That all his days evir hatit the melle,Bot all for nocht, for he most neid thus de:About the laik of Lern and fludis grayHys craft was forto fyschyng euery day;A puyr cote hous he held, and buyr hym law;Rewardis of rich folkis war to hym onknaw;Hys fader eyrit and sew ane peys of feld,That he in hyregang held tobe his beild.And lyke as that the fyre war new vpbet,And in sum dry wydderit wod vpset,Baith heir and thar, at diuers partis seir,Amyd the sovndand buskis of lawrer;Or quhar the fomy ryveris, red on spait,Hurlys doun from the month a large gait,With hydduus bruyt and felloun fard atanys,Thar as thai ryn ourflowand all the planys;Ilkane distroys, wastis, and dryvis awayAll that thai fynd befor thame in the way:Na slawar baith this Turnus and EneHurlys and ruschis fers throw the melle.Now, now, the brethfull ire and felloun thochtWithin thar myndis boldynnys all on flocht,And tha breistis, can na wys venquyst be,Now bristis full of greif and cruelte;Now lasch thai at with bludy swerdis brycht,Fortill mak wondis wyd in all thar mycht.The tane of thame, that is to knaw, Enee,Kyng Murranus, of anchestry maist hie,Sovndand the name of his forfaderis ald,Our all the clan of Latyn kyngis baldObservyt man by man onto his day,Furth of hys cart hes smyttyn quyt away,And bet hym doun onto the erd wyndslaucht,With a gret roik or quhirrand stane ourraucht;That this Murranus the renys and the thetis,Quharwith hys stedis ȝokkit war in thretis,Vndyr the quhelis hes do weltit doun;Quhar, as he lyggis in hys mortall swoun,Of hys awyn stedis abuf hym rap for rapThe sterand hufis, stampand with mony clap,Ourtreddis and doun thryngis thar master law,And gan thar lordis hie estait mysknaw.And Turnus hes recontryt ane Hilo,That ruschand hurlit throw the melle tho,Full fers of muyd and austern of curage:Bot this Turnus, for all hys vassalage,At hys gilt halssettis a grundyn dart dyd thraw,That fixit throu hys helm the schaft flaw,Persand hys brane, quhill owt bruschit the blude.Nor thy rycht hand, Creteus, sa gude,Thou forcyast Greik, cumyn from Archad land,Mycht the deliuer from this ilk Turnus brand:Nor all hys goddis Cupencus in the planeMyght defend from Ene, com hym agane,Bot at hys breist with the steill poynt is met,That thirlyt hes throu all, and hym doun bet,That nother scheild nor obstant plait of steillThis catyvis breist hes helpit neuir a deill.O Eolyn, the feildis LawrentaneHes the behald tharon dovn bet and slane,And with thy braid bak in thy rich weidThe grund thou hes byspred rycht far onbreid:Thar lyis thou ded, quham Gregioun ostis in fyghtNothir venquys nor to the erth smyte mycht,Nor fers Achilles to the grund couth bryng,That was ourquhelmar of kyng Pryamus ryng:Heir war thy methis and thy term of ded:The hous and famyll or the nobill stedOf thy kynrent stant vndir mont Ida,In the gret cyte of Lyrnessia;Bot in the feildis of Lawrentane sulȝeThy sepultur is maid for ay tobe.Apon this wys the ostis and wardis haillOn athir part returnyt in bataill,Aganyst othir to feght sammyn attanys,All the Latynys and alhaill the Troianys;Duke Mnestheus, and the stern Serestus,And, on the tother half, prynce Mesapus,That of gret hors the dantar clepit was,And with hym eik the stalwart Asylas,The Tyrreyn rowtis semblit all atanys,And kyng Evandrus army Archadianys:Euery man for hym self, as he best mycht,At the vtyrrans of all hys fors gan fyght.No rest nor tary was, thai so contend,Sum to confoundyng all, sum to defend.

CAP. X

Quhou Eneas segit the tovn agane,And queyn Amata hir self for wo has slayn.At this tyme, the bargane induryng thus,Eneas moder, the farest dame Venus,Into hys mynd scho has put this entent,To hald onto the wallys incontinent,And steir hys ost the cyte till assayWith hasty onset and suddane affray,At gret myscheif the Latynys to effeir,Quhilk of hys cummyng tho onwarnyt wer.And as at he held movyng to aspyTurnus throu syndry rowtis by and by,On euery syde he has castyn hys E;And at the last behaldis the cite,Saikles of batale, fre of all syk stryfe,But payn or travale, at quyet man and wyfe.Than of a grettar bargane in hys ententAll suddanly the figour dyd imprent:He callys Mnestheus and eik Sergestus,Chiftanys of hys ost, and strang Serestus,And on a lytill mote ascendit in hy,Quhar sone forgadderit all the Troian army,And thik abowt hym flokkyng can, but baid;Bot nother scheld nor wapynnys doun thai laid.And he amyddis on the knollis hightOnto thame spak thus, herand euery wight:Heir I command no tary nor delayBe maid of my preceptis, quhat I sal say,Nor se that na man be sweir nor slaw to ryn;Till our hasty onset we will begyn,Sen Jupiter assistis onto our syde.Now harkis quhat I purpos do this tyde:This day I sal distroy and cleyn bet dounOf Lawrent haill the cite and the tovn,Quhilk is the caus of all our werying,And quyte confund the kyng Latinus ryng,Les than thai wil ressaue the bridill at hand,Be at obeysans, and grant my command;And ȝon hie turrettis, and tha toppis hieOf rekand chymnais ȝondir, as we se,I sal mak plane and equale with the grond.Quhat suld I tary or delay a stond,Abydand heir into sik plyte, quod he,Quhil Turnus lyst feght with ws in melle;Or quhil that he, ane other tyme aganeOurcum and venquyst into batale plane,May haue refuge to this tovn to releif,Syne eftir in feild vs recontyr and greif?O citeȝanys, the hed is this citeOf our weirfair, and cheif of iniquyte:Turs thiddir in hy the hait byrnand fyre brandis,And with the blesand flawmys in ȝour handisRenewys and requir agane, said he,The trety sworn and promyst ȝou and me.Quhen this was said, thai put thame in array,Togiddir all the cite tyll assay:Thai pyngill thraly quha mycht formest beWith dowr myndis onto the wallys hie;Knyt in a sop, with gret pissans thai thristThe leddyrris to the wallys, or ony wist,And hasty fyre blesis dyd appeir.Sum otheris of the Troianys ruschit infeirOnto the portis, and the first thame metHes kyllyt at the entre and doun bet:Sum otheris schutis dartis, takillis, and flanys,At thame quhilkis on the barmkyn hed remanys,That with the flycht of schaftis heir and tharThai dyrknyt all the skyis and the air.Ene hym self with the formast can standVndyr the wallys, puttand to hys handTo the assalt, and with lowd voce on hieThe kyng Latinus fast accusys he;Drawand the Goddys to wytnes, quhou aganeHe is constrenyt on fors to move bargane;And quhou at the Italianys, thus twysAt syndry tymys, schew thame hys ennemys;And how falsly that day thai brokyn hadThe secund consideratioun sworn and maid.Amang the citeȝanys, into gret affray,Vprais discord in mony syndry way:Sum bad onclos the cite, and als fastWarp vp the portis, and wyde the ȝettis castTo the Troianys, and thar gret prynce EneRessaue as for thar kyng in the cite;Otheris start to thar wapynnys and thar geir,Forto defend thar tovn in feir of weir:As we may geif a symylitude, wail lykeQuhen that the hyrd hes fund the beys byke,Closit vnder a dern cavern of stanys,And fillit hes full sone that litill wanysWith smoik of sowr and byttir rekis stew;The beys within, affrayt all of new,Ourthwort thar hyvis and walxy tentis rynnys,With mekill dyn and bemyng in thar innys,Scharpand thar stangis for ire, as thai wald fycht:Swa heir, the laithly odor rais on hychtFrom the fyre blesis, dyrk as ony roik,That to the ruffis toppys went the smoik;The stanys warpit in fast dyd rebund,Within the wallis rays gret bruyt and sound,And vp the reik all void went in the air,Quhar as na tenementis stud nor howsis war.Betyd alsso to thir wery Latynys,Quhilk so irkit at sik myscheif and pyne is,Ane chance of mysfortoun, that all the tovnWith womentyng straik to the boddum doun.For as the queyn Amata saw syk wysThe cyte ombeset with ennemys,The wallys kyndlyt be with flambys heit,The fyre blesis abuf the ruffis gleyt,Na Turnus army cumand thame aganys,Nor ȝit nane ostis of Rutilianys;Scho, full onhappy, in the batell stedWenyt ȝong Turnus feghtand had bene ded:And tho for verray sorow suddanly,Hyr mynd trublit, gan to rame and cry,Scho was the caus and wyte of all this greif,Baith crop, and ruyte, and hed of sik myscheif;And in hir dolorus fury thus myndles,All enragit for duyll tho dyd expresFull mony a thing, and reddy to de with allRent with hir handis hyr purpour weid ryall,And at ane hie balk teyt vp scho hasWith a lowp knot a stark cord or a las,Quharwith hir self scho spilt by schamefull ded.And fra the Latyn matronys, will of red,Persavit hes this vile myschewos wraik,Thai rent thar hair, with harrow, and allaik!Hyr douchter first besyde the ded corps standis,Ryvand hyr gyltyn tressys with hir handis,Hyr rosy chekis to tor and scartis sche:Than all the laif, that piete was to se,Of ladeis that about the ded corps stud,Rentis and ruggis thame self as thai war wod,That of thar gowlyng, greting, and deray,The large hald resundis a far way,Quhil from the kyngis palyce inverounDywlgat went and spred our all the tovneThe fey onhappy fame of sik a deid;Than euery wight tynt hart for wo and dreid.With habyt rent kyng Latyn on the gaitWalkis wobegone, astonyst of the faitOf hys deir spous, and of the cite syne,That semyt brocht onto fynall ruyne:Hys canos hair, sair movit in hys entent,With onclene puldyr has he all bysprent,And mony tymys hym selvyn hes accusyt,That he sa lang had lachit and reffusytTo ressaue glaidly the Troiane Ene;Repentyng sair, for weill of the cyte,That he had nocht requirit hym, and drawOr than tobe his mawche and son in law.

CAP. XI

The quenys deces fra Turnus cleirly wist,Went to the sege Eneas to resist.In the meyn tyme, as weriour vnder scheild,Turnus ȝond at the far part of the feldA few menȝe persewand our the plane,Quhilk at the stragill fled in all thar mayn,Sum deill or than walxis dolf this syre,Seand his horssis begyn to sowpe and tyre;That euer the les and les joyus was heOf thar renkis and gait throu the melle.Tharwith the wynd and sowchquhyng of the airThis feirfull clamour brocht to hym rycht thar,Mixt with oncertane terrour and affeir;The confusioun of sovnd smait in hys eyr,Com from the cyte, of felloun murmuryng,Rycht onglaid bruyt of cayr and womentyng.Ha, ways me! he said, quhat may this be?Quhou beyn the wallys trublit of this citeWith so gret duyll and sorrow as I heir?Or quhou thus ruschis so felloun noys and beirAnd clamour from the tovn at euery part?Thus has he said, and can do stynt his cart,And all enragit tyt the renȝeis abak.Quhamto his sistir tho Juturna spak,As scho that was turnyt, as I said air,In semlant of Metiscus the cartar,That horssis, renȝeis, syd rapis, and cart, dyd scheRewle and direct amydwart the melle;With sic wordis scho ansueris hym fute hait:Turnus, lat ws persew Troianys this gait,Quhar victory ws schawis the reddy way;Thar beyn enew otheris, be my fay,Forto defend and weill manteym the tovn.Ȝon is Eneas makis the brute and sovn,That can invaid Italianys, as ȝe heir,Mydlit in batale on sik feir of weir.Tharfor lat ws with cruell hand in this stedLay als feill corpsis of the Troianys ded;For with na les numbir slane vnder scheild,Nor les honour, sall thou wend of the feild.Turnus answeris; O thou my sistyr deir,I knew full weill at it was thou, langere,That be thi craft and quent wylis sa sleOur consideratioun trublit and trete,And entrit in this batell quhilk thou wrocht:And now, Goddes, thy wylis ar all for nocht.Bot quha was that send the from hevyn so scheyn,So huge sturt and travell to susteyn?Quhidder gif thou com to that entent to seThe cruell deth of thy fey brother? said he:Quhat sall I do, lat se; quhar sall I now?Or quhat succurs promittis fortoun, and quhou?I saw myself befor myne eyn langereGret Murranus, quham nane mair leif and deirOnto me was that levand is this day,Swelt on the grund, and with lowd voce, perfay,On me dyd call, quhar as he lay onsoundAt erth discomfyt with ane grisly wond:And lo, doun bet and slane in hys defensIs not alsso the stowt capitane Vfens,That he suld not our lak and schame behald?Hys corps and armour doys Troianys baith withhald.Sail I als suffir thame doun the cyte dyng?Of our myscheif thar restis bot that a thing:Nor sall I not with this rycht hand in hyConfund schir Drances langage onworthy?Sail evir this grund behald or se sik lak,That I sall fle, or Turnus gif the bak?Is it all owt sa wrachit thing to de,That, or thai stervyn, men suld rathar fle?Ȝhe Manes, clepit Goddis infernal,Beis to me frendly now, sen that allThe Goddis myndis abuf ar me contrar;Be ȝhe benevolent quhen that I cum thar:Ane haly saule to ȝou discend sall I,Saikles of all sic cryme or villany,Na wys onworthy namyt forto beWith my eldris and forfaderis mast hie.Scars hes he said, quhen, lo, throu the planeRuschand amyd hys fays, com hym aganeAne Sages, montit on a fomy steid;And he was wondit sair, and gan to bleid,In the face with ane arrow vndir the E,Cryand, help, Turnus, be his name, quhar is he?Turnus, quod he, in the and thy twa handisThe extreme help and lattir weilfar standis:Haue reuth and piete of thyne awin menȝe.Now, as the thundris blast, faris EneIn bargane, so enragit he doith mannaysThe cheif cyte of Italy doun to arrays,And into fynal ruyne to bet dounThe principall palyce and all the ryall tovn;And now onto the thak and ruffis hieThe flambys and the fyre blesys doys fle.In the thar wltys, in the thar eyn, but faill,The Latyn pepill dressyt hes alhaill:The kyng hym self Latinus, the gret heir,Quhispyris and musys, and is in maner seirQuham he sall cheis or call, into this thraw,Tobe hys douchteris spous, and son in law,Or to quhat frendschip or allyans fyneIs best hym selwyn at this tyme inclyne.And forthirmore, Amata the fair queyn,Quhilk at all tymys thyne afald frend has bene.With hir awyn hand doith sterve, now liggand law,And for affray hir self hes brocht of daw.Only Mesapus and Atynas keynAt the portis doys the stour susteyn:Abowt thir twa on athir syde thik standisArrayt rowtis, with drawyn swerdis in handis,Full horribill and austern athir barnage,Cled in steill weid with wapynnys, man and page;And thou, thus rollyng furth thy cart bedene,Walkis at avantage on the void grene.Turnus astonyst stude dum in studeyng,Smyt with the ymage of mony diuers thyng:Deip in hys hart boldynnys the felloun schame,All mixt with dolour, angyr, and defame;Syne fervent luf hym catchit in fury rage,And hys bykend hardyment and curage.As first the schaddois of pertrublansWas dryve away, and hys rememberansThe lycht of ressoun has recoverit agane,The byrnand sycht of baith his eyn twane,Sore aggrevit, towart the wallys he kest,And from hys cart blent to the cyte prest.Bot lo, a sworll of fyre blesys vpthraw!Lemand towart the lyft the flambe he saw,Amang the plankis and the loftis schireStremand and kyndland fast the hoyt fyre,That caucht was in a mekill towr of tre;Quhilk towr of sillys and gestis gret belt he,And thar vnder, to roll it, quhelis set,With staris hie and batelling weirly bet.Now, now, systir, quod he, lo all and sumThe fatis has vs venquyst and ourcum:Desist tharfor to mak me langar tary;Lat ws follow that way, and thiddir cary,Quhar God and this hard fortoun callys me.Now standis the poynt, I am determyt, quod he,Eneas hand for hand fortill assaill;Now standis the poynt, to suffir in bataillThe bittir ded and all paynfull distres:No langar, sistir germane, as I ges,Sall thou me se schamefull onworthy wight.Bot, I beseik the, manly as a knychtInto this fervent furour suffir meTo go enragit to batale, or I de.Thus has he said, and from the cart in hyApon the land he lap deliuerly,And left his sistir trist and dissolate;Thrist throu hys fays and wapynnys all, fute hait,And with sa swift fard schot throu the melleThat the myd rowtis and wardis schuddris he.And like as the gret roch crag with a sovnFrom the top of sum montane tumlyt doun,Quhen at it is our smyt with wyndis blast,Or with the drumly schowris spait doun cast,Or than be lang proces of mony ȝherisLowsyng tharfra the erd, and away weris,Is maid to fall and tumbill with all his swecht,Lyke till a wikkit hill of huge weght,Halding his fard the discens of the braWith mony skyp and stend baith to and fra,Quhill that he schut far on the plane grund,And all that he ourrekis doith confund;Woddis, heyrdis, flokkis, catale, and men,Our welterand with hym in the deip glen:Towart the wallys Turnus ruschit als fastThrow owt the rowtis, by hys fard doun cast,Quhar tho the grund wet and bedyit studeA weill far way with effusioun of blude,And large on breid the skyis and the ayrFor schaftis schot dyd quhissilling heir and thar:A bekyn with hys hand to thame maid he,And sammyn eik with lowd voce cryis; lat be!Stynt, ȝhe Rutilianys, se ȝhe feght na mair,And, ȝhe Latynys, ȝour dartys castyng spar;Quhou evir the fortoun standis at this tyde,The chance is myne, the fait I mon abyde.It is mair just and equale I allaneFor ȝou sustene the payn was ondertane,And purge the cryme, so happynnyt now of lait,Of this consideratioun violate:Lat me stand to my chans, I tak on handForto derene the mater with this brand.Than euery man amydward thame betweneCan draw abak, and maid rovm on the greyn.

CAP. XII

Eneas feghtis and Turnus, hand for hand,And Turnus fled, for he had brokkyn his brand.Thys fader than, this gret prynce Ene,Herand the name of Turnus cryit on hie,The wallys left, and fra the tovn went awayRicht hastely, secludand all delay;Styntis all the wark that he begunnyn had,And hoppit vp for joy, he was so glaid:The huslyng in his armour dyd rebund,And kest a terribill or a feirfull sound.Vpraxit hym he hes amyd the place,Als byg as Athon, the hie mont in Trace,Or heich as mont Erix in Scycily,Or than the fader of hillys in Italy,Clepyt mont Apennynus, quhen that heDoith swouch or bray with roky quhynnys hie.And joys to streik hys snawy top on hychtVp in the ayr amang the skyis brycht:That is to say, amang all other wightisEneas semyt to surmontyn in hyghtisThe remanent of all the mekill rowt,As thir montanys excedis the knollys abowt.And than, forsuyth, Rutilianys egyrly,And all the Troian ostis or army,Towart thar dukis dyd return thar eyn;The Rutilianys, I say, and eik bedeynAll the Latynys that on the wallys stud,And all thai als, tofor as thai war woidThe barmkyn law smait with the rammys fast,Now of thar schuldris can thar armour cast.The kyng hym self, Latyn, abasyt to seTwa men sa byg of huge quantite,Generit and bred in realmys far insundirOf seir partis of the warld, that it was wondirTwa of sik statur, onmysurly of hycht,Fortill assembill sammyn into fyght,Or forto se thame, matchit on the greyn,Dereyn the bargane with thar wapynnys keyn.And than athir thir campionys vndir scheild,Quhen voydit weill and rowmyt was the feildThat patent was the plane a weil large space,With hasty fard on far hes tane thar rays,And can thar speris cast, or thai cum neir,Quhil scheildis soundit and all thar other geir;Ane marcial batale thai begyn, but baid,And athir sternly dyd hys fa invaid.So dyd the strakis dyn on thar steill weid,The erd granys and dyndlys far onbreid,Syne raschit togidder with swerdis, or euer thai stynt,And rowtis thik thai doublit, dynt for dynt;With fors of prowes and fatale aventurMydlit sammyn the bargane thai endur.Lyke as twa bustuus bullys by and by,On the hie month Taburn in Champany,Or in the mekill forest of Syla,Quhen thai assembill in austern bargane thra,With front to front, and horn for horn, attanysRuschand togiddir with cronys and feirfull granys,That fe masteris and hyrdmen, euery wight,Abasyt gevys thame place, so brym thai fight:For feir the bestis dum all standis by,And all in dowt squelys the ȝong ky,Quha salbe master of the catal all,Or quhilk of thame the bowys follow sall:Tha twa bullys, thus stryvand in that stond,By mekill fors wyrkis other mony a wond,And duschand festynnys fast thar hornys stowt,Quhill that abundans of blude stremys owt,That can do wesch, bedy, or all to baith,Thar grym nekkis and thar spaldis baith;That of thar rowstyng all the large planeAnd woddis rank rowtis and lowys agane.Nane other wys Ene, the Troian heir,And Dawnus son, Turnus, sammyn infeirHurlys togiddir with thar scheildis strang,That for gret raschis all the hevynnys rang.Thus Jupiter hym self hes atheris chanceA weill lang space to hungyn in ballanceBe equale myssour, and pasyt hes alssoThe fatis diuers of thame baith two;Quham the stowt laubour suld deliuer fre,And quham the pasand wecht ourwelt to de.Turnus at this tyme walxis bald and blyth,Wenyng to caucht a stound hys strenth to kythBut ony danger or aduersyte;He raxis hym, and hevis vp on hieHys bludy sword, and smait in al hys mayn.A gret clamour gave the pepill Troian,And eik the Latynys quakyng gaue a schowt,Full prest thame to behald stud athir rowt.Bot this ontraste fals blaid is brokyn in sundyr,And ardent Turnus brocht hes in gret blundir;For it amyddis of hys dynt hym falys,And dissolet hym left, that nocht avalysTo hym hys strenth, hardyment, and mycht,Les than he tak for hys defens the flycht:Ȝa, swyftar than the wynd he fled, I ges,Quhen that he saw hys rycht hand wapynles,And persauyt the plummet was onknaw.For so the fame is, at the ilk thrawQuhen he first ruschit in hys cart inhy,And gart do ȝok hys stedis by and byTo go onto the batale the sam day,That, for the suddand onset and effray,The cartar Metiscus sword he hynt in hand,And all forȝet hys faderis nobill brand:And this ilk swerd was sufficient a lang space,Quhill that he followit the Troianys in the chais,That gaue the bak, as we haue said or this;Bot alsfast as it twichit and matchit isWith dyvyn armour maid by God Wlcan,And tharon smyttyn in al Turnus mayn,This ontrew temperit blaid and fykkill brand,That forgit was bot with a mortal hand,In flendris flaw, and at the first clap,As brukkill ice, in litill pecis lap,Quhil the small partis of the blaid brokin in twaAs glas gletand apon the dun sand lay.Quharfor this Turnus, half myndles and brane,Socht diuers wentis to fle throu owt the plane;With mony wyndis and turnys, all on flocht,Now heir, syne thar, onsovirly he socht.Troianys stude thik bylappit inverounIn maner of a conpas or a crovn;And on the ta half eik a laik braidHym so inclusyt that he mycht nocht evaid,And on the tother syde fermyt als was heWith the hie wallys of the cheif cyte.And thocht the wond tarreis Ene sum deill,Wrocht to hym by the takill with hed of steill,To weild hys kne maid sum impediment,That he mycht nocht braid swyftly our the bent,With na les pres and haist ȝit, nocht for thy,He, fute for fut, persewys him fervently:Lyke as, sum tyme, quhen that the huntar stowtBetrappit has and ombeset aboutWith hys ralys and with hys hundis gudeThe mekill hart swymmand amyd the flude,Quhilk thar inclusit neidlingis mon abyd;For he may not eschape on nother syd,For feir of hundis, and that awfull bernBaryng schaftis fedderit with plumys of the ern;The rynnyng hund dois hym assail in threteBaith with swift rays and with hys questis grete:Bot this hart, all abasyt of thar slycht,And of the strait and stay bankis gret hycht,Can fle and eik return a thousand ways;Bot than the swypir Tuscan hund assaysAnd nerys fast, ay reddy hym to hynt,Now, now, almaste lyke, or euir he stynt,He suld hym hynt, and, as the beste war tak,With hys wyd chaftis at hym makis a snak,The byt oft falȝeis for ocht he do mycht,And chakkis waist togiddir hys wapynnys wycht.Richt so, at this tyme, apon athir sydeThe clamour rays, that all the laik wydeAnd brays abowt thame answerd, so thai ferd,The hevyn our all eik rumlyt of ther rerd.And Turnus, fleand, sammyn fast can callRutilianys, chidand baith ane and all,Every man clepand by hys proper name,To reke hym hys traist swerd for schame:And by the contrar, awfully EneCan thame mannans, that nane sa bald suldbe,And schew present the deth all reddy heirTo thar ondoyng, gif that ony drew neir,And quakyng for affeir maid thame agast;Schorand the cite to distroy and doun cast,Gif ony help or supple to hym schew,And, thocht he sair was, fersly dyd persew.Thus fyve tymys round intill a raysAbout the feild can thai fle and chais,And als feill sys went turnyng heir and thar,Lyke as befor the hund wiskis the hair.And na wondir; for sa the mater lyis,To na bowrdyng twichit thar interprys,Na for small wagis thai debait and stryfe,Bot apoun Turnus blude schedding and lyfe.On cace, amyd this feild had grow of laitAne wild olyve to Fawnus consecrait,Quharon grew bittyr levys, and mony ȝherisWas hald in wirschip with all maryneris;At the quhilk tre, quhen thai eschapit hadThe stormys blast, and wallis maid thame rad,Tharon thar offerandis wald affix and hyngOnto this God vmquhile of Lawrent kyng,And tharon eik the clathis bekend vpstent:Bot tho the stok of this tre doun was rentBy the Troianys, mysknawand it hallowit was,To that entent to plane the batale place.Eneas byg lance or hys castyng speirPercays apon the poynt was stykand heir;Thiddir this schaft the gret fors of his castHad thraw the ilk stund, and thar fixit fast,Amang the grippill rutis fast haldand,Weggit full law the lance on end dyd stand.The Troiane prynce it grippis in that sted,Willyng in hand to pull owt the steill hed,With cast tharof to follow hym at the bak,Quham he throw speid of fut mycht nocht ourtak.Bot than Turnus, half mangit in effray,Cryis, O thou Fawnus, help, help! I the pray;And thou Tellus, mast nobill God of erd,Hald fast the speris hed by ȝour werd;As I that evir has wirschipit on thir planysȜour honour, that be the contrar EneadanysHes violet and prophanyt be stryfe, quod he,With blude scheddyng, and down hewyn ȝour tre.Thus said he, and no thyng in vane, I wys,The Goddys help he axit; for, at hys wys,A full lang tyme wrelis and tareis EneFurth of the teuch rutis of this ilk treHys speir to draw, and bytis on his lip;Bot festynnyt sa is in the war the gryp.That by na maner fors, thocht he was wight,Furth of the stok the schaft vp pull he mycht.And as he brymly thus inforcis fastTo draw the speir, this Goddes at the last,I meyn Juturna, douchter of Dawnus king,Owt throw the feld com rynnand in a lyng,Changit agane, as that befor scho was,Into Metiscus semlant and lyknes,And to hir brother hes hys swerd betaucht:Quhar at Dame Venus gret disdenȝe caucht,Sik thyng suldbe tholit this bald nymphe to do;Than suddanly to the speir rakis scho,Baith schaft and hed onon, or evir scho stent,At the first pull from the deip rute hes rent.Than athir restit and refreschit weillBaith in curage and scharp wapynnys of steill,He trastand in hys swerd that weill wald scheir,And he full prowd and stern of hys byg sper;Incontrar otheris baldly lang thai standIn marciall batale athir resistand,Ilkane full wilfull otheris till ourthraw,At sic debait that baith thai pant and blaw.