The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

CAP. III

Quhou Turnus folkis for hym maid sair regrait,And kyng Latyn contempnys his wrachit estait.In the meyn tyme the Rutilianys ichoneThe gret ded corps reuthfull and wobegoneOf thar duke Turnus, slayn, as said is air,Within the cite of Laurentum bair,With mekill murnyng in thar myndis enprent,And from thar eyn a large schour furth sentOf teris gret, as thocht the hevyn dyd rayn,And far on breid dyd fyll the erys twaynOf kyng Latyn with cry and womentyng,That al to irkyt was the nobill kyng,And in his breist, the self tyme, in ballanceWas rollyng mony diuers selcouth chance.Bot quhen he hard thar lowd womentyngIncressyng mair and mair, and Turnus ȝyngWith sa grysly a wond throw gyrd hes seyn,Than mycht he nocht fra terys hym conteyn;And syne this rowt, sa tryst and wobegone,Full curtesly chargis be still onon,Baith with hys hand and wordis in his presensInionyt has and commandit thame silens.Lyke as quhen that the fomy bair hes betWith his thunderand awfull tuskis gret,Throw owt the cost and eik the entralis all,Ane of the rowt, the hund maste principall;Than the remanent of that questing sort,For this onsilly chance effrait, at schortWithdrawys, and about the master hunteirWith quhyngeand mouthis quakand standis for feir,And with gret ȝowlyng doith compleyn and meyn:Bot quhen thar lord rasys hys hand bedeyn,And byddys ces, thai hald thar mowthis still,Thar quhyngng and thar questyng at his willRefrenys, and all clos gan thame withhald:The sammyn wys thir Rutilianys, as he wald,Gan at command debait thar voce and ces,To heir the kyngis mynd, and held thar pes.Than thus, wepyng, from hys hart ruyt waill lawThe kyng Latyn begouth thir wordis schaw:O quhou gret motioun, quhat alteryng onstabill,Quhou oftsys interchangit and variabillBeyn the actis and dedis of man! quod he.With quhou gret trubill, but tranquylyte,Is quhirlit abowt the lyfe of man, behald!O dampnabill pryde and ambitioun, that waldBruke crovn or ceptre, prowd in thyne entent,Quhilk beyn sa fragill, and not permanent!O fury, O lust, that beyn our gretumlyBred in our brestis, to covat senȝeory!Thou blynd desyre insaciabill, may not tary,Our mortal myndis quhidder doith thou cary?O glory and renoun of loys, in vaynConquest with sa feill perrellis and huge pane,To quhat conditioun or to quhat estaitThou sterys furth thir provd myndis inflait!Quhou mony slichtis and dissatis quentWith the thou tursis! quhou mony ways to schent,Quhou feill maneris of deth and of distres,Quhou feill tormentis, gret harm, and wikkytnes!Quhou mony dartis, quhou feill swerdis keyn,Gyf thou beheld, thou hes befor thyne eyn!Allace! thou sweit vennom schawis, and ȝitThis warldly wirschip hes the dedly byt.Allace! the sorofull reward in all thyngOf realmys, and thame covatis forto ryng,Quhilk costis oft na litill thing, but weir.Allace! the hevy byrdyng of warldly geir,That nevir hour may suffir nor permytThar possessour in rest nor peax to syt.Allace! the miserabill chance and hard estaitOf kyngly honour sa mysfortunate:The chance of kyngis standis onderlowt,To mekill dreid ay subiect, and in dowtFrom thar estait to dekey suddanly,That all quyet and eys is thame deny.O Turnus, quhat avalit the to steirIn huge bargan so and feir of weirAll Italy with sik deray atanys,And to perturbe the strang Eneadanys,Constrenyng thame hard batal to assay?Or quhat avalis now, I pray the say,Fortill haue brokkyn, violate, or schent,The haly promys and the bandis gentOf peax and concord oblisit and sworn?Quhou was thi mynd to rent and all to tornWith samekill impaciens on this wys,That the lyst move the weir, but myne avys,With tha pepill, sa strang, bald, and sage,That beyn discendit of the Goddys lynnage,And at command of Jove the God of thundirAr hyddir careit? and forto mak sic blundir,That wilfully, but motyve, so belyveEnforsyt the thame from our cost to dryve?And forto brek the band that promyst weOf our douchtir till our gude son Ene?And with thy hand hard bargan rays and steir,Quhen I planely denyit to move weir?Quhou was sa gret foly and dotageInvoluyt in thy mynd with fury rage?Quhou oft, quhen thou to awfull batale wendAmyd thy rowtis, and on thy steid ascend,In schynand armour arrayt all at rycht,I assayt the to withdraw from fycht!And feill tymys defendit the and forbadTo go the way that thou begunnyn had;And all efferit, quhen thou wald depart,Amyd the ȝet the stoppit with sair hart!Bot all for nocht; no thyng mycht styntyng the.Quhat I haue sufferit sen syne, quhou standis with me,Our cyte wallys wytnessyng fut het,With tenementis and biggyngis half doun bet,And the large feldis strowit quhite of banys,And haill the pissans of ItalianysAll wastit and distroyit thus, alake!The huge slauchtir and myschews wrake,And all the fludis walxyn red or brovnOf mannys quelling gret and occisioun,The lang abasit quakyng feirfull dreid,And hard laubour, quhilk in extreme neidI in myne age sa oft hes ondertane,In sa feill dangeris quhar remed was nane.Bot now, Turnus, heir thou lyggis ded:Quhar is the nobill renovn of thy ȝouthed?And quhar is thyne excellent hie curage?Quhiddir is went thy strenth and vassallage?Quhar is the staitly bewty of thy face?Quhar is thy schynand figur now, allace!Of thy fair vissage quhidder ar gone, but weir,Thy plesand forret schaply and eyn cleir?Ha, quhou feill terys and wofull dolouris smartSall thou, Turnus, rendir to Dawnus hart!And with quhou large wepyng, duyll, and wa,Ourfleit sal all the cite of Ardea!Bot thai sal nocht behald the with sik lakThrou gyrd with schamefull wond caucht in the bak,Ne noyt the of na cowardys in thar mynd,Nor that thou was degenerit owt of kynd;And to thy wofull fader, will of red,At lest this salbe solace of thy ded,All thocht thy harmys doith hym soir smart,That gret Eneas swerd hes persyt thy hart.And, sayand thus, with terys of pieteHys chekis baith and face ourchargit he:Syne, turnand hym towart the mekill rowt,The reuthfull corps of this ilk Turnus stowtBad turs away, and cary furth ononOntill hys faderis cite wobygone;And commandit to do the body caldAll funerall pomp, eftir the vsage ald.

CAP. IV

Quhou Turnus corps till Ardea was sent,Quhilk was by suddand fyre brynt down and schent.The Rutilianys onon all in a rowtThis ded corps, that slayn lay, start abowt:The gentill body of this stowt ȝongkeirThai haue addressit, and laid on a rich beir;And with hym eik feill takynnys by the way,Reft from Troianys in the bargan, bair thai,Baith helmys, hors, swerdis, and other geir,Scheildis, gittarnys, and mony stalwart speir.Syne eftir this hys wery cart furth went,Of Troian slauchter and hait blude all bysprent.Furth haldis wepand Metiscus, the carter,As he that in the craft was not to leir,Ledand the steid bedowyn all of swete,And chekis wait of flotterand terys grete;Quhilk steid had careit Turnus oft toforAs victor hame with gret triumphe and glorFull pompusly, apon ane other wys,Eftir fervent slauchter of his ennymys.Ȝondir otheris, about hym inveroun,Baris thar armour and scheildis turnyt dovn;The remanent syne of the haill barnageFollowys wepand, knycht, swane, man, and page,With habundans of mony trigland teyrWetand thar brestis, wedis, and other geir:And thus wery furth went thai euery wychtAmyd the dirk silens of the nyght,Betand thame self with wondir drery cheir.And kyng Latyn, with all thame with hym wer,Towart hys palyce gan return onon,With mynd trublit, trist, and wobygone,For sa excelland ded corps as was slane;Terys all sammyn furth ȝettis euery ane,Baith agit men, matronys, and childer lyte,The cite fyllis with womentyng and syte.Dawnus, hys fader, na wys wittand thoHe suld remane to se sik duyll and wo,Nor that his son hys stalwart spreit had ȝald,And maid end in the lattir bargan bald,That thus was brocht to tovn ded by his ferisWith sik plente of bittir wepand terys;The sammyn tyme with othir dyseys was socht,At mekill sad dolour and hevy thocht.For, as the Latyn pepill war oursetInto batall by Troianys, and dovn bet,And Turnus be his hait and recent dedHad with bys blude littit the grond all red,A suddan fyre within the wallys hieOmbeset halyly Ardea cite:The biggyng of this fader wobegon,Brynt and doun bet, of reky flammys schone,And all returnys intill assys red;The fyry sparkis into euery stedTwynkland vpspringis to the starnys on hie,That now na hope of help may fundyn be:Quhidder so it was onto the Goddis lykyng,Or that the fatis befor list schaw sum syngOf Turnus deth, in horribill batal slane.And quhen the pepill saw remed was nane,Belyfe the wofull trublit citesanys,Thar drery brestis betand all atanys,Gan fast bewaill with petuus wepand faceOf this onhappy chance the wrachit cace;In lang rabill the wemen and matronysWith all thar fors fled reuthfully atonysFrom the bald flammys and brym blesys stowt.And lyke as that of emottis the blak rowt,That ithandly laubouris and byssy be,Had beldit, vnder the ruyt of a heich tre,Intill a clift thar byke and duellyng sted,To hyd thar langsum wark and wyntry bred:Gyf so betyde thai feill the ax smyteApoun the treis schank, and tharon byte,So that the crop doun weltis to the grund,That with the felloun rusch and grysly soundThar small cavernys all to brok and rent is;Than spedely this litill rowt furth sprentisAll will of red, fleand thai wait nocht quhar,Tursand thar byrdyngis affraytly heir and thar:Or lyke as that on the hous syde the snaill,Schakand hir coppit schell, or than hir taill,Fleand the byrnand heit that scho doith feill,A lang tyme gan do wrassill and to wreill,Thristand fast with hir feit onto the wall,And ȝit hir hed with fors and strenthis allFrawart the fervent flammys fast withdrawys;Scho scaldis, and with mony wrikis and thrawysPresys forto eschew the feirfull heit:Nane other wys in sa feill perrellis gretThir woful citesanys gan thame self slyng,Ruschand with trublit mynd intill a lyngBaith heir and thar, and wist not quhar away.Bot maist of all, allace! and weil away!With reuthfull vocis cryand to the hevyn,The agit kyng Dawnus with wofull stevynGan on the Goddis abuf clepe and call.And tho amyd the flambis furth with allArdea the fowll, quham a heron clepe we,Betand hir weyngis, thai behaldyn fleFurth of the fyre heich vp in the air,That baith the name and takyn our alquharBaris of this cite Ardea the ald;Quhilum with wallis and towris hie ontaldStud weirly wrocht, as strenth of gret defens,That now is changit and full quyte goyn hens,With weyngis wyde fleand baith vp and doun,Now bot a fowle, was ayr a ryall tovn.Astonyst of this nyce and new cace,And of the wonderus mervellis in that place,Quhilk semyt no thing litill fortobe,As thocht thai send war by the Goddis hie,The pepill all confusyt still dyd stand,Thir byrdyngis on thar schuldris caryand,And movit nowthyr fut, tung, nor mouth:And kyng Dawnus, for this affray onkouth,With ardent luf smyttin and hait desyreOf hys cheif sete distroyt and brynt in fyre,The hard dolour and the sorow smertHaldis full clos, deip gravyn in hys hart.

CAP. V

Fra that Dawnus his son Turnus saw ded,Huge lamentatioun maid he in that sted.Amyd all this deray and gret effeir,Fame, of dyseys forrydar and messynger,Com hurland with huge movyng fast to tovn,And with large clamour fyllys inverounThar myndis all; quhou ane ded corps new thanWas cumand at hand, with mony wofull man,And Turnus lyfles laid with mortal wond,In feld discomfist, slane, and brocht to grund.Than euery wight, trublit and wobegone,The blak blesand fyre brandis mony one,As was the gys, hes hynt into thar handis;Of schynand flammys glitteris all the landis:Thus thai recuntyrrit thame that cumand weir,And sammyn jonyt cumpaneis in feir.Quham alsfast as the matronys gan espy,Thai smait thar handis, and rasyt vp a cry,That to the sternys went thar wofull beir.Bot fra Dawnus the corps of hys son deirBeheld, he gan stynt and arrest hys pais:And syne, half deill enragit, in a rays,With huge sorow smyte, in ruschis heAmyd the rowt, that reuth was forto se,And apon Turnus corps hym strekis doun,Enbrasyng it ongrouf all in a swoun;And, alsfast as he spek mycht, hes furth braidWith wordis lamentabill, and thus wys he said:Son, the dyseys of thy fader thus drest,And of my febill eild the reuthfull restNow me byreft, quhy hes thou so, allace!Into sa gret perrellys and in sik caceMe catchit thus, and dryve quhidder? quod he;And vndir cruell bargan, as I may se,Now fynaly thus venquyst and ourcum,Quhar is thy worthy valour now becum?Quhar hes the douchty constans of thy spreitMe careit thus from rest and all quyet?Is this the notabill honour and lovyngOf thy manhed, and glory of thy ryng?Is this the gret wyrschip of thyne empyre?O my deir son, quhilum thou bald syre,Bryngis thou ws hame sikkyn triumphe as this?Is this the rest and eys thou dyd promysTo thy fader, sa tryst and wobegone,And oft ourset with ennemys mony one?Is this the meith, and finale term or endOf all laubouris, as we desyrit and wend?O ways me, wrachit and wofull wyght!Quhou hastely doun fallyn from the hightThir slyddir warldly chancis dryvis fast!With quhou gret fard ourrollyt and down castSo hastely beyn thir fatis, behald!He that was laitly sa stowt, heich, and bald,Renownyt with gret honour of chevelry,And haldyn gret throu owt all Italy,Quham the Troianys sa awfull felt in armys,And dred sa oft hys furour, wrocht thame harmys:Myne awyn Turnus, lo now apon sik wysAne lamentabill and wofull corps thou lyis:Now dum and spechles that hed liggis thar,Quhilum in all Italy none sa fair,Nor nane mair gracius into eloquens,Nor nane so byg but harnes, nor at defens!Son, quhar is now thy schynand lustyhed,Thy fresch figour, thy vissage quhite and red,Thy plesand bewte, and thyne eyn twaneWith thar sweit blenkand lukis mony ane,Thy gracyus glitterand semly nek lang,Thy vocis sovn, quhilk as a trumpet rang?The glor of Mars in batale or in stowrIs conquest with sik aventouris sowr.Had thou sic wyll thy selvyn to submytTo fervent bargan, and to dedis byt,Quhen thou departit of this sted fra me,Forto return with sik pompe as we se?O haitfull deth! that only, quhar thou lykis,With thy revengeabill wapynnys sa sair strikis,That thou thir prowd myndis brydill may;To all pepill elyke and common ayThou haldis evyn and baris thi ceptre wand,Eternaly observand thy cunnand,Quhilk gret and small doun thryngis, and nane rakkis,And stalwart folkis to febill equale makkis.The common pepill with the capitanys,And ȝouth and age assemblys baith attanys.Allace, detestabill deth, dyrk and obscur!Quhat chance onworthy or mysaventurHes the constrenyt my child me to byreif,And with a cruell wond thus ded to leif?O systir Amata, happy queyn, quod he,Be glaid of sa thankfull chance hes hapnyt the,And of thyne awyn slauchtir be blith in hart,Quharby thou has sa gret dolour astart,And fled sa huge occasions of myscheif,Sa hard and chargeand huge wo and greif!O Goddis abuf, quhat ettill ȝe mor to doOnto me wrachit fader? sen ellys, lo,My son ȝhe haue byreft, and ArdeaMy cite, into flambis brynt, alssuaConsumyt is, and turnyt in assis red,With weyngis fleys a fowle in euery sted.Bot ha, Turnus! mar trist and wo am IFor thy maste petuus slauchter sa bludy:Wantit this last myschance ȝit or sik thingTo thyne onweldy fader, auld Dawnus kyng.Bot sikkyrly, with sic conditioun ayThir warldly thingis turnys and writhis away,That quham the furyus fortoun lyst infest,And eftir lang quyet bryng to onrest,Brayand apon that catyve for the nanys,With all hir fors assalȝeis scho attanys,And, with all kynd of torment, in hir greifConstrenys hym with stundys of myscheif.This said he, wepand sadly, as man schent,With large flude of teris hys face bysprent,Drawand the sobbys hard and sychis smart,Throw rageand dolour, deip owt from hys hart:Lyke so as quhar Jovis byg fowle, the ern,With hir strang tallonys and hir punsys sternLychtyng, had claucht the litill hynd calf ȝyng,Torryng the skyn, and maid the blude owt spryng:The moder, this behaldand, is all oursetWith sorow, for slauchter of hir tendir get.

CAP. VI

Kyng Latyn till Eneas send messageFor peax, and eyk hys douchteris mariage.The nixt day followyng with hys bemys brychtThe warld on breid illumnyt hes of lycht:The kyng Latinus tho seand, but let,Italyanys discumfyt and oursetBy the fatale aventour of weir,And weill persavit quhou and quhat manerThe fortoun haill turnyt to strang Enee;And in hys mynd revoluyt eik hes heThe huge dowt of batall and deray,Full mony feirfull chance and gret effray,Hys consideratioun and hys sworn band,The wedlok promyst, and the ferm cunnand,And spousal of hys douchtir hecht withall:Of all the rowt ontill hym gart he callA thousand worthy men walit at rycht,The quhilkis the Troian duke and dowchty knycht,Quham he desyrit, suld convoy to town:In robbys lang also, or traill syde govn,With thame he jonyt oratouris infeir,And to thame gaif feill strait commandis seir:And forthir eik, quhen thai depart can,Of hys fre will thame chargit euery man,That, sen be favouris and admonysyngisOf the Goddis, be mony feirfull syngis,Expedient it was the kyn TroianConioyn and myddill with blude Italian;At tharfor glaidly to thame gang wald thai,And with gud willis vissy, and assayForto convoy the said EneadanysWith joy within hys hie wallys attanys.In the myd quhile, hym self full bissy went,The cite, quhilk was disarayt and schent,To put to poynt and ordinans agane,And the onweldy common pepill ilkaneTo caus adres eftir thar faculte;Thar myndis mesys and estabillis he,And gan thame promys rest in tyme cummyng,And quhou, within schort tyme, he suld thame bringIntyll eternall peax for evirmar.Syne chargit he the pepill our alquhar,In joy, blithnes, solace, and deray,Tryumphe to mak, with myrth, game, and play.As was accordyng, and in lugyngis hieThar kyngly honour and sport ryall tobe;And merely commandis man and page,With ane assent, blith wlt, and glaid vissage,Hys gud son thai suld do welcum and meit,And with hail hart ressaue apon the streitThe Troian pepill, festand thame in hyWith glaid semlant, ryot, and melody;And to furthschaw seir takynnys of kyndnes,And of new peax so lang disirit soles.Be this the rowt, as thai instrukkit wer,In full gude rewle and ordinans infeirAr entrit in the Troianys new cite,And on thar hed garlandis of olyve tre;Peax thai besocht as cheif of thar message.Quham gentill Eneas, euery man and page,Within hys palys ryall to presensChargit convoy, and gafe thame audiens,And of thar cummyng the causys and manerWith vissage full debonar dyd inqueir.Than the agit Drances with curage hoytBegowth the first hys toung forto noyt,As he that was baith glaid, joyfull, and gayFor Turnus slauchter, that tho was doyn away:And thus he said; O gentill duyk Troian,Ferm hope and glory of the pepill Phrigian,To quham of piete and dedis of armys fairIn all the warld thar may be na compair;We venquyst folkis to witnessyng doith call,And by the Goddis sweris and Goddessis all,Contrar hys willis sair the kyng LatynBeheld the gret assemly and convynOf the Italyanys and folk of Latyn land:Agane his stomak eyk, I bair on hand,Owtragyusly the contract is ybrokkyn,Ne nevir he in deid nor word hes spokkynThat mycht the Troian honour trubbill ocht;Bot far rathar, baith in deid and thocht,Sen that the Goddis responsis swa hes tald,The weddyng of hys douchter grant ȝou wald,And with full gret desyre, full weill I knaw,Oft covat ȝou tobe hys son in law.For, all the brek and sterage that hes beynIn feir of weir and burnyst armour keyn,With sa gret rage of laubour and of payn,The wild fury of Turnus, now lyis slayn,Inflambit with the stang of wikkytnes,And infekkit with hie haitrent expres,Hes brocht on hand, and movit sa to steir;Agane thar will to rays batale and weirThe Latyn pepill constrenyng by and by,Quhilk thai playnly refusyt and gan deny:Hym all the ost, turnand bakwart agane,Besocht to ces, and draw fra the bargane,And suffir the gret Anchises son of TroyHys wedlok promyst enioys but ennoy.Syne the maist nobill kyng Latyn, full faynHym forto breke and to withdraw agane,Hys auld onweldy handis twa dyd hald,Hym to requir hys purpos stynt he wald;For weill he saw, in our ardent desyreOf the bargan he scaldit hait as fyre:Bot all our prayeris and requestis kyndMycht nowder bow that dowr mannys mynd,Nor ȝit the takynnys and the wondris seirFrom Goddis send with dyvyne ansuer,Bot that evir mor and mor fersly heFurth spowtit fyre, prouocand the melle.And, for syk succudrus ondertakyng now,Hys awin myscheif, weill worthy to allow,He fundyn hes; quhilk finaly, on the landThou beand victour with the ovirhand,Hym bet to grond hes maid do gnaw and byteThe blak erd intill hys mortall syte.Now lat that ilk rahatour wend inhyThe blak hellys byggyngis to vissy,Vndir the drery deip flude Acheron;Lat hym go sers, sen he is thiddir gone,Other ostis or barganys in hys rage,And als ane other maner of mariage.Thou, far bettir, and gret deill worthiarTo bair the riall ceptyr, and tobe ayr,Succeid to realm and heritage sallOf Lawrent cuntre with the moblys all:In the alhaill the hows of kyng Latyn,And hys onweldy age, lyke to declyne,Hys hope and all beleif restis in the;And the only Italianys all, said he,Abufe the schynand sternys, as gold brycht,Full wylfull ar fortill vphie on hycht;As maste excelland worthy weryourThai the extoll in batale and in stowr,Thy hevynly armour eik, with lowd stevin,And thy verray renoun syngis to the hevyn.The graue faderis of consale venerabillIn thar digest decretis sage and stabill,The ancyent pepill onweldy for age,The glaid ȝong gallandis stalwart of curage,The lusty matronys newfangill of sik thyng,Wenschys onwed, and litill childryn ȝyng,All, with a voce and haill assent at accord,Desyris the as for thar prynce and lord,And joyus ar that into feild, fut het,Vndir thy wapynnys Turnus lyis doun bet:The all Itaill, clepit Ausonya,Besekis heirof, and forthirmor alssuaDoith the extoll maste worthy, wys, and wight;In the only returnyt is thar syght:The kyng hym self Latinus, now full ald,Hys ancient onweldy lyfe to hald,Hes only this beleif and traste, quod he,That he hys douchter may do wed with the,Quhilk of kyn, successioun, and lynnage,Be that ilk souerane band of mariage,Of Troian and Italian blude discendSall childryng furth bryng, quhill the warldis endPerpetualy to ryng in hie impyre.Tharfor haue doyn, cum on thou gudly syre,Thou gret ledar of the Troian rowt,Cum entyr in our weirly wallys stowt;Ressaue this worthy notabill fair proffyr,And saisyn tak of honouris quhilkis we offir.Thus endit he; and all the remanentIntill a voce sammyn gave thar consent:Quham the reuthfull Eneas with glaid cheirRessauyt hes full tendyrly infeir;And, in few wordis and a frendly myndThame ansuerand, he carpys on this kynd.Not ȝou, nor ȝit the kyng Latyn, but les,That wont was forto ryng in plesand pes,Will I argew of this maner offens:For suyth I wait, the wilfull violensOf Turnus all that gret wark brocht abowt;And I am sovir eik, and owt of dowt,Sa gret danger of batale it was heProvokit swa, and movit to melle,For ȝyng desyre of hie renown, perfay,And loys of prowes mair than I byd say.And netheles, quhou evir it be, I wys,This spowsage Italian, at me promyst is,Ne will I not refuys on nakyn wys,Nor forto knyttyng vp, as ȝhe devys,This haly peax with frendly allyans,With etern concord, but disseuerans.The sam kyng Latyn, my gud fader ald,Sall hys impyre and venerabill ceptour hald,And I Troian for me vp in this feildAne new resset and wight wallys sall beld,Quhilk cite sall ressaue hys douchteris naym;And my Goddis domesticall, that fra haymWith me I brocht, I sall with ȝou conioyn;In concord and in vnyte all commoun,In tyme tocum sammyn athir falloschipVndir a law sall leif in gret frendschip.In the meyn tyme go to, and speid ws soynOnto our wark that restis ȝit ondoyn,And lat ws byrn the bodeis, and bery eft,Quham the hard wofull rage hes ws byreft,And into batale kyllyt lyis ded:Syne, tomorn ayrly, as the son worthis red,And with hys cleir days lyght doyth schyne,Blithly we seik to cyte Lawrentyne.Thus said he; and the Latynys, quhill he spak,With vissage still beheld hym stupifak,Of hys wys gracius answeris wonderand all,And of sik wordis debonar in speciall;Mayr evidently gan mervell he and heOf hys gret warkis of reuth and sik piete:Belyve, with all thar forcis, euery wyghtWeltis doun treys grew full hie on hycht,And hastely togiddir gadderit hasIn hepys gret, the funerall fyre to rays,And thar abuf thar citeȝanys hes laid,Vndir quham syne thai set in blesys braid:The flambe and reik vpglydis in the ayr,That of the laithly smokis heir and tharThe hevyn dyrknyt and the firmament.Thai hynt from all the feildis adiacentInnumerabill rowch twyntir scheip syne,And of thir akcorn swellyaris, the fat swyne;And tydy ȝyng oxin steik thai fast,And in the funerall fyris dyd thame cast:The large planys schynys all of lycht,And, throw thir hait scaldand flambys brycht,Stude blowt of bestis, and of treys bair:With huge clamour smyt, dyndillit the ayr.