The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

CAP. IV

Quhou that the Queyn to huntyng raid at morow,And of the first day of hir joy and sorow.Furth of the sey, with this, the dawyng spryngis.As Phebus rays, fast to the ȝettis thringisThe chos gallandis, and huntmen thame besyde,With ralys and with nettys strang and wyde,And huntyng sperys styf with hedis braid:From Massillyne horsmen thik thiddir raid,With rynnyng hundis, a full huge sort.Nobillys of Cartage, hovand at the port,The Queyn awatys that lang in chawmyr dwellys:Hyr fers steyd stude stampyng, reddy ellys,Rungeand the fomy goldyn byt gynglyng;Of gold and pal wrocht hys rych harnasyng:And scho, at last, of palyce yschit owt,With huge menȝe walking hir abowt,Lappyt in a brusyt mantill of Sydony,With gold and perle the bordour al bewry,Hyngand by hir syde the cays with arowis grund;Hir bricht tressis envolupyt war and wondIntil a quayf of fyne gold wyrin threid;The goldyn button claspyt hir purpour weid:And furth scho passyt with all hir cumpany.The Troiane pepill forgaderit by and by,Joly and glaid the fresch Ascanyus ȝyng.Bot first of all, maist gudly, hym self thar kyngEnee gan entir in falloschip, but dout,And onto thame adionyt hys large rowt.Lyke quhen Apollo list depart or gaFurth of hys wyntring realm of Lysya,And leif the flude Exanthus for a quhile,To vissy Delos, his moderis land and ile,Renowand ryngis and dansys, mony a rowt;Mixt togiddir, hys altaris standing about,The pepil of Creit, and thame of Driopes,And eik the payntit folkis Agathirces,Schowtand on thar gys with clamour and vocis hie:Apon thi top, mont Cynthus, walkis he,Hys wavand haris, sum tyme, doyng doun thryngWith a soft garland of lawrer sweit smellyng;And vmquhile thame gan balmyng and enoynt,And into gold addres, at full gude poynt;Hys grundyn dartis clattering by hys syde.Als fresch, als lusty dyd Eneas ryde;With als gret bewte in hys lordly face.And eftyr thai ar cummyn to the chace,Amang the montanys in the wild forest,The rynnyng hundis of cuppillys sone thai kest,And our the clewys and the holtis, belyve,The wild beistis doun to the dail thai dryve.Lo! thar the rays, rynnyng swyft as fyre,Drevyn from the hyghtis, brekkis out at the swyre:Ane othir part, syne ȝondyr mycht thou seThe herd of hartis with thar hedis hie,Ourspynnerand with swyft cours the plane vaill,The hepe of duste vpstowryng at thair taill,Fleand the hundis, levand the hie montanys.And Ascanyus, the child, amyd the planys,Joyus and blith hys startling steid to assay,Now makis his rynk ȝondir, and now this wayNow prekis furth by thir, and now by thame;Langyng, amang faynt frayt beistis ontame,The fomy bair, doun from the hyllis hycht,Or the dun lyoun discend, recontyr he mycht.In the meyn quhile, the hevynnys al aboutWith fellon noys gan to rummyll and rowt.A bub of weddir followyt in the tayll,Thik schour of rayn myddillit ful of haill.The Tyriane menȝe skales wydequhar,And al the gallandis of Troy fled heir and thar;And eik with thame the ȝong Ascanyus,Nevo to kyng Dardan and to Venus.For feir, to diuers stedis throu the feildis,Thai seik to haldis, howsis, hyrnys and beildis:The ryveris rudly ruschit our hillis bedene.Within a cave is entrit Dido queyn,And eik the Troiane duke, al thame alane,By aventur, as thai eschewyt the rane.Erth, the first moder, maid a takyn of wo,And eik of wedlok the pronuba Juno,And of thar cuplyng wittering schew the ayr:The flambe of fyreslaucht lychtnyt heir and tharAnd on the hillys hie toppis, but les,Sat murnand nymphis, hait Oreades.This wes the formaste day of hir glaidnes,And first morrow of hir wofull distres.For nother the fasson nor the maner scheAttendis now, nor fame, ne honeste;Ne, from thens furthwart, Dido ony morMusis on lufe secrete, as of befor,Bot clepis it spousage; and, with that fayr name,Clokyt and hyd hir cryme of oppyn schame.

CAP. V

Of Fame that monstre, and kyng Hyarbas fury,And how fra Jove wes send the god Mercury.The fame heirof, belyve, gan walx and spreidThrou cheif citeis of all Affrik on breid:Fame is myscheif, quham na harm vndyr the lyftIn motioun nor sterage is mair swyft.Movand scho growis, and, passand our alquhar,Hir strenth encressis and walxis mair and mayr.Lytil, for feir, the fyrst tyme semys sche;Sone eftir rysys to the starnys on hie;Apon the grond scho walkis fra sted to sted,And vp amang the clowdis hydis hyr hed.Throu greif of goddis commovyt, and nocht glaid,Erth, the gret moder, bayr this child, as is said,Last systir to Ceyos and Enchelades,Ane huge, horribill, and strange monstre, but les,Spedy of fut, and on weyngis swyft as wynd.Quhou mony fedderis bene on hir body fynd,Als mony walkryse eyn lurkis thar vndir,Als feil tongis, that for to tell is wondir,With als feil mouthis carpis sche and beris,Als mony hes scho prik vpstandand eris.By nycht scho fleys amyd the hevyn throu owt,Circuland the schaddow of the erth aboutWith huge fard, nother cuyr gevand nor keipHir eyn anys to rest nor tak a sleip:Al day scho syttis, wachand byssely,Apon the top of nobillis howsis, to spy,Or on thir princis palyce with towris hie,And with hir noys gret citeis affrays sche;Als weil ramembring fenȝeit and schrewit sawys,As scho the treuth and verite furth schawis.Thys ilke wensch, that tyme, with mony a taill,Glaidly this rumour gan throu the pepill skaill,Telland the thing wrocht, and not wrocht, togiddir:Quhou of the Troiane blude wes cummyn thiddirEne, with quham the fair Dido be wedDedenyt, and as husband go to bed;And how the wyntir sesson betwix thame twayThai spend in lang reffell, lust, and play,Of thar realmys na thing remembring,In fowle delyte ybond be Cupyd kyng.Thys menskles goddes in euery mannys mouthSkalys thir newis est, west, north, and sowth.Hir cours, onon, but langar tarying,Addressys scho ontill Hyarbas kyng;With hir sawis his mynd inflambyng as fyre,Prouokand hym to wreth and fellon ire.To Amon he wes son, beget alswaApon the maid revist Garamantida:Within his large realmys huge braidAne hundreth tempillis to Jupiter he maid;Ane hundreth altaris, quharon the walkryfe fyreHe dedicate, al tymys byrnand schyre;Set wachis in honour of goddis perpetuelly;Of beistis blude the fat grond nevir dry,Strowit with garlandis and flowris of diuers kynd.This ilke kyng, wod wroith, half owt of mynd,And for thir schrewyt rumouris for ammovit,In presens of the goddis quhilk he luffit,Befor the altar, to Jupiter, as thai say,Hevand vp handis, devotly thus gan pray:Almychty Jove, quod he, quhamto, feill sys,On brusyt beddis hie fest and sacryfysOf Mawrusya the pepill hantis thus,Offeryng to the the honour of Bachus,Consideris thou this? or quhidder, fader, gif weFor nocht the dredis, quhen thou lattis thundir fle?Or gif thi fyreslauch, the blynd clowdis within,To fley our myndis, in vane makis noys and dyn?Ȝone woman, lait exile and vagabundCom to our boundis, that by pryce bocht the grundA litil village to byg, and quhamto weFor to manuyr gave the strand of the see,Quhamto our lawis and statutis we gart mak,Our mariage gan lychtly and forsaik,And in hir ryng hes tane Ene for lord.And now that secund Parys, of ane accordWith his onworthy sort, skant half men beyn,Abufe his hed and halffettis, weil beseyn,Set lyke a mytir the Troiane foly hat,Hys hair enoynt weil prunȝeit vndir that,By reif mantemys hir suld owris be;Becaus onto thi templis dayly weBryngis offerand, and invane hallowis thi name.With syk wordis kyng Hyarbas at hameMakyng hys prayeris, and grippand the altar,Him hard onon almychty Jupiter,And hys eyn turnys towart the riall wallisOf Cartage, and thir luffaris, quhilkis so fallisAt thai thar fame and gude renown forȝet.Syne thus said to Mercuryus, but let,And with sik maner charge gan hym direk:Pas, son, inhaist, graith the wyndis in effek;Slyde with thi feddyrame to ȝon Troiane prynce,Quhilk now in Cartage makis residence,Gevand no cuyr of citeis in ItalyTo hym ygrant by fatale destany;Do beir my message swyftly throw the skyis,Sa to hym thus my wordis on syk wys:His derrest moder promist ws not that heOf hys gydyng sa faynt a man suld be,Nor, for syk causys, hym delyverit twysFurth of the Grekis handis, hys ennemys;Bot at he suld haue beyn wys, sage, and grave,Hie senȝeoreis and gret empyre to have,And Itale dant, quhilk brandysis in battell,And, by his dedis, declair and cleyrly tellHym cummyn of Teuceris hie genealogy,And to subdew the warldis monarchy.Of sa gret thingis thocht na wirschip hym steris,Nor for hys honour list not laubour as efferis,Ȝyt than, the fader aucht na wys to envyThat Ascanyus bruke Romys senȝeory.Speir quhat he beildis, or how that he dar dwellAmang a pepill salbe hys ennemys fell.Hys lynnage tocum in Itale forȝettis he,And gevis na compt of Lavyne the cuntre.Byd hym mak saill: this is all in effek;Thiddir on our message thus we the direk.Said Jupiter: and Mercur, but arest,Dressyt to obey hys gret faderis behest:And first ontill hys feyt fast buklyt heHys goldyn weyngis, quharwith he doith fle,Quhen so hym lyst, abuf the fludis on hyght,Or on the erth, with gret fard and swyft flycht.Syne tuke his wand, quharwith, as that thai tell,The pail sawlis he cachis furth of hell,And other sum tharwith gan schet full hoytDeip in the sorofull grisly hellys pote;Quharwith he makis folk sleip, magre thar hed,And revis fra othir al sleip, and to the dedClosis thar eyn, and brekis the stryngis tway:Throu help tharof he chasys the wyndis away,And trubly clowdis dyvidis in a thraw.Tho furth he fleys, till at the last he sawThe heich top and sydis braid onevynOf hard Atlas, baryng on his crown the hevyn;The mysty clowdis cirkilland his hed about,Quharon of fyrryn treis stant mony rowt,With wynd and storm full oft to schaik and blaw;Hys schulderis heildit with new fallyn snaw:Furth of the chyn of this ilk hasard auldGret fludis ischis, and styf ise schokkyllis cauldDoun from his stern and grysly berd hyngis.Heir first Mercur, with evynly schynand weyngis,Gan hym arest, and with hail fard fra thensVnto the sey fludis maid hys discens;Lyke till a fowle that, endlang the cost syde,About the strandis, of fysch plentuus, and wyde,Fleys by the watyr, skummand the fludis law:Betwix the hevyn and erth, the sam wys, flawMercury, clepit the child Cyllenyus,Discendyng from hys moder granscher thus;The sandy costis and desertis of Lyby,And eik the wyndis, persyng by and by.And, with the weyngit solys of hys feyt,As he of Cartage fyrst tred on the streyt,Eneas foundand towris he gan aspy,And garrand beild new lugyngis byssyly:Belt he wes with a swerd of mettale brycht,Of quham the scawbart with brown jasp wes pight;His rych array dyd our hys schuldris hyng,Bet of a purpour claith of Tyre glittering,Fettysly stykkit with prynnyt goldyn thredis;Of mychty Didois gift wrocht all his wedis.Mercur recontris hym, and said onon:Of Cartage now the prowd wallis of stoneThou foundis, quod he, and biggis at al devyceA cite, excersyt intill a wyfis seruyce,Thyne awyn materis and realm forȝetting, allace!Hiddir onto the, from his bricht hevynly place,The governour of goddis heth me sent,Quhilk rewlys at will erd, hevyn, and elyment;He bad me throw the skyis bair this charge:Quhat beildis thou heir in Lyby or Cartage?Or to quhat fyne or beleif takis on handTo waist thi tyme into this fremmyt land?Gif that na lavd ne honour move the listOf sa hie thingis as ar to the promyst,Nor thi selvyn thou wil not occupyTo purches thine awyn renown ne glory;Ȝyt than, behald Ascanyus vpwalxing,And the gret hope of his seid and ofspring,Quhamtil the realm and kynryk of Itaill,With Romys boundis, beyn destinate, sans faill.On syk wys thus carpys Mercuryus,And in the myddis of his sermond, thus,He vanyst far away, I wait nevir quhar.Furth of this mortale syght, in the schyre ayr.

CAP. VI

Quhou Eneas hym grathys to depart,To quhom Dido heir carpys with sayr hart.Bot than Ene half mad and dum stude als,Vpstart his hair, the voce stak in his hals.Sayr he langis to fle and to depart;And that sweit cuntre, on the tother part,To leif ful laith wes hym, or go at large.Astonyst he wes to syt sa hie a charge,Or dysobey the gret godis beheste.Allace! quhat suld he do? oneth he wist;Or with quhat wordis suld he now assayThe amorus queyn forto requir and pray,Or on quhat wys hys taill he mycht begyn;Baith to and fra compasyng, hys breist within,Feill purpossys for euery part about.And, at the last, thus as he stude in dout,Thys resson hym semyt fynaly the best:He callys to hym Mynestheus and Sergest,And strang Cloanthus; and bad thai suld, in hy,Do graith hys schyppys and navyn secretly,And gaddir hys folkis towart the cost togydder;Armour and al thyng necessar bring thyddir,And to dissymyll, gif ony axit quhyThai thus addressyt thar geyr sa suddanly:Hym self, he said, the meyn quhile, suld assayTo purches leif to pas and go away,And wait hys tyme to speke tharof maist habill,Quhen that the queyn Dido, maist honorabil,Suld not beleif sa sone he kouth depart,Nor sa gret luf dissyvir mycht be na art.At hys command thai al glaidly furth went,And bissely begouth speid hys entent.Bot sone the queyn persavyt al the slycht:Quhay may begile a luffar, day or nycht?Thar departing at hand fyrst scho aspyis,Dredyng all sovir thing, as is the gysOf euery luffar al tyme to stand in feir.This ilke cursyt Fame, we spak of eyr,Bair to the amorus queyn noys, and gan rown,The schippis ar grathand, to pas thai mak thaim boun.Quharfor, inpacient, and myndles in hir rage,Scho wyskis wild throu the town of Cartage;Syk wys, as quhen thir nunnys of BachusRuschis and relis our bankis, brays, and bus,Quhen, euery thryd ȝeir, on thar payane gys,Thar goddis feist thai hallow with lowd cryis,That, al the nycht, the mont of CytheronResoundis of thar clamour, quhar thai gone.And at the last, ȝit thus, of hir fre will,Eftir lang musyng, scho spak Eneas tyll:With dissymulance wenyt thou, onfaithfull wight,Thou mycht haue hyd fra me sa fals a slycht,And, myne onwyttyng, steill furth of my land?That nothir our gret lufe, promys, nor rycht handGevyn me vmquhile, may the heir withhald,Nor cruel deth of Didois cors so cald!Gif thou depart, and forthir quhat wald thou do,In wyntir sesson pres graith thi navy, lo!And the addres to pas throu the wod see,Myd tyme quhen stormys and wyndis blaw maist hie;Art thou sa cruel? I put the cace, alsso,That to nane onkouth landis the list go,Nother to fremmyt place, nor stedis will,Bot that auld Troy war ȝyt vpstandand still;Aucht thou, ȝit than, leif this weilfair and joy,And in sik perrell seik throu the sey to Troy?Quhat! wilt thou fle from me? allace! allace!Be all thir teris trygland our my face,And be that rycht hand vmquhile thou me gave;Sen to my self nocht ellis left I have,Now wrachit catyve; be our treuth plychting eyk,And be our spowsage begunnyn, I the beseik,Gif euer ony thank I deservit towart the,Or ocht of myne to the wes leif, quod sche,Haue mercy of our lynnage reddy to spill;Gif tyme remanys ȝit thou heir prayeris will,This fremmyt mynd, I pray ȝou, do away.For the I haue beyn hatyt, this mony a day,With all the pepill of Affrik, and with the kyngThat rewlys the land of Numyda and ryng;For the myne awyn Tyrianys ar with me wraith;For the is womanheid went and wirschip baith,And my first fame, lavd, and renownye,Quharby I wes rasyt to the starnys hie.Reddy to de, and my selvyn to spill,My sweit gest, quhamto thou me leif will?My gest, ha God! quhou al thyng now invane is,Quhen of my spows nane othir name remanys!Bot quharto suld I my ded langar delay?Sal I abyde quhil thou be went away,And quhil myne awyn brothir, Pigmaleon,Bet down the wallis of my cite onon,Or stern Hyarbas, kyng of Getule,Led me away into captiuite?Bot, at the leist, tofor thi wayfleyng,Had I a child consavyt of thyne ofspryng,Gif I had ony ȝong Eneas small,Befor me forto play within my hall,Quhilk representit by symylitude thi face;Than semyt I nocht, thus wys, allace! allace!Aluterly dissauyt nor dissolate.Thus said the queyn Dido, in febil estate.Bot, apon Jovis message fermly heStude musyng so, he movit nocht ane E;Refrenyt his will, hydand in hart his thocht,And, at the last, thir few wordis hes furth brocht:O gentil queyn, that sall I nevir deny,Thy gude deid and desart is mair worthyThan thou with wordis or tong may expreme;Nor it sal nevir me irk, na ȝit mysseym,The worthy Dido to hald in fresch memory,So lang as that my self remembir may I,Or quhil the spreit of lyfe this body steris.As the mater requiris, a litil heris:I purposyt nocht forto hyde thyftuuslyMy vayage, nor, as ȝe weyn, secretlyAway to steil; quhat nedis ȝou sa to feyn?For I pretendit nevir, be na meyn,With ȝou to mak the band of mariage,Nor in that ȝok, ne frendschip in Cartage,Ȝyt come I nevir: bot gif the fatis, but pled,At my plesour sufferit me lyfe to led,At my fre wil my warkis to modyfy,The cite of Troy than first agane suld IRestore, and of our deir frendis remanysGaddir togiddir, and to the venquist TroianysRaparal with my handis agane thar wallis,And beild vp Priamus palyce at now fallis.Bot sen Appollo, clepit Gryneus,Gret Italy to seik commandis ws,To Itale eik oraclys of LyciaAdmonyst ws, but mair delay, to ga;Thar is my lust now, and delyte at hand,Thar is my cuntre, and my natyve land.Gif the, of Cartage the burgh and towris swa,Quhilk art a woman of Phenycia,And the aspect of citeis AffricaneDelytis, and withhaldis heir to remane,Quhat wrang is it, caus of envy or schame,Thocht Troianys seik to Itale for thar hame?Or is it nocht als lesum and ganandThat fynaly we seik to onkouth land?Als oft as day is gone, and the dyrk nychtWith hir donk schaddow hydis of the erth the sycht,Als oft as schynyng starnys doith vprys,My faderis gost, Anchises, als feil sysInto my sleip mannasis me tharto fast,And oft his feirfull ymage doith me agast;And, in lyke wys, the child Ascanyus,Quhais deir hed suffir iniurys is hard to ws,Quham of the realm of Itail I defraud,And fra the grond to hym promyst withhawd.Be athir of our hedis this I sweir;Now laitly eik of goddis the messynger,From hie Jupiter in hasty message sent,Down throu the ayr brocht the ilk commandment:On fair day lycht, myne awyn self dyd I seMercur, the God, entyr in this cite,And his wordis with thir sam eris hard I.With thy complayntis ony langar, forthy,Lat be to vex me, or thy self to spyll,Sen I seik nocht to Itale with fre will.

CAP. VII

Of the scharp wordys queyn Dydo dyd say,And how Eneas bownys fast away.Dydo, aggrevit ay quhil he his tayl tald,With acquart luke gan to wart hym behald,Rollyng vmquhile hir eyn, now heir, now thar,With syght onstabil waverand our alquhar;And all enragyt thir wordis gan furth braid:Nothir wes a goddes thy moder, as is sayd,Nor ȝyt kyng Dardanus cheif stok of thi kyn,Thou treuthles wyght; bot, of a cald hard quhyn,The clekkyt that horribill mont, Cawcasus hait;Thou sowkyt nevir womanis breist, weil I wait,Bot of sum cruel tygir of ArabyThe pappys the fosterit in the wod Hyrcany.To quhat effect suld I hym langar perswaid,Or quhat bettir may beleve than he hes said?Quhiddir gif he murnyt quhen we wepit and walyt?Quhiddir gif he steryt his eyn, as ocht hym alyt?Quhidder gif, for rewth, he furthȝet anys a teyr,Or of hys lufe had piete? na, not to ȝeir.Quhou sal I begyn, quhat first, quhat last to say?Now, now, nothir gretast Juno, wallaway!Nor Saturnys son, hie Jupiter, with just eynHes our querrell considerit, na ourseyn;For no quhar now faith nor lawte is fund.I ressavyt hym schyp brokkyn fra the sey grund,Wilsum, and mystyrfull of al warldis thyng,Syne, myndles, maid hym my fallow in this ryng:Hys navy lost raparalyt I, but faill,And hys feris fred from the deth alhaill.Allace! enragyt or enchantit am I;Quhen now Appollo, with hys sossery,And quhilis, he says, the kavillys of Lycia,And quhilis, fra Jupiter down sent alsswa,The messynger of goddis bryngis throu the skyisSa feirful charge and command on this wys:Lyke as the goddis abufe nocht ellys rocht,Bot on thi passage war al thar cuyr and thocht.Nothir wil I hald the, nor thi wordis contrar:Pas on thi way, towart Itale thou fair;Seik throu the fludis with wyndis to that ryng.Forsuyth, gif reuthfull goddis may ony thing,Amyd thi way, I traist, on rolkis blakThou sal deir by thy treuth thou to me brak,And clepe oft my richt name, Dido, Dido!With fyre infernale, in thine absens alsso,I sal the follow; and, fra the cald dedReif from my membris this sawle, in euery stedMy gost salbe present the to agrys:Thou salt, onworthy wyght, apon this wys,Be punyst weil; and tharof wald I heyr;The fame tharof sal cum onto myne eyr,Vndir the erth, amang the schaddowys law.And this spokkyn, hir sermond, with the ilk saw,Brak scho in twane, ful dolorus in hir thocht:The lycht scho fled, and, als fast as scho mocht,Turnys frawart hym, and wyskyt of hys sycht,On seir materis leifand hym pensyve wight,And purposyng to haue said mony thyngis.The damycellis fast to thar lady thryngis,That was in dedly swoun plat for dispar:Vp thai hyr hynt, and to hyr chawmyr bayr,Quhilk was of marbill wrocht, and in hir bedLaid softly down apon rych carpettis spred.Bot ȝyt, althocht the reuthfull EneasThe dolorus queyn to meys ful bissy was,To do hir comfort, and hir dyseys asswage,And with hys wordis return hir sad curage,Bewalyng mekill hyr sorow and distres,Proplexte in mynd by gret lufe; netheles,The command of the goddis, by and by,He execut, and vysseys hys navy.Than byssely the Troianys fell to wark,And mony gret schyp, ballyngar, and bark,Langis the cost brocht in, and bet full weill.Now fletis the mekil holk with tallonyt keyll:The burgionyt treys on burd thai bring for aris,Weltis down in woddis gret mastis, and na thing sparis,Saysyng half onwrocht, so ithand thai war fair bown.Rynnand heir and thar, and wendyng fast of town,Ȝhe mycht haue seyn thame haist, lyke emmotis greteQuhen thai depulȝe the mekill byng of quhete,And in thar byke it careis, all and sum,Providing for the cald wyntir tocum:The blak swarm our the feildis walkis ȝarn,Tursand throu the gers thar pray to hydlys darn:Sum on thar nek the gret cornys vpwrelis,And our the furris bissely tharwith spelys;Sum constrenyng the otheris fast to wirk;And sum the sleuthful chasteis, that thocht irkOf thar labour; quhil euery rod and wentWolx of thar ithand wark hait, quhar thai went.

CAP. VIII

Quhou Dydo send hir systir Ene to pray,And of the grysly syngnys dyd hir affray.Quhat thocht thou now, Dydo, seand thir thingis?Quhou mony sobbys gave thou and womentyngis,Quhen thou, out of thi castell from the hycht,The large costis beheld thus at a sychtOurspred with Troianys, in fervent bissynesGan spedely for thar vayage addres,And of thar clamour befor thine eyn dyd seDyn and resoundyng al the large see?O wytles lufe! quhat may be thocht or do,At thou constrenys nocht mortell myndis therto?Scho is compellit to fal agane to teris,And Eneas assay with new prayeris;And condiscendyt hir provd hart to submytOnto the strenth of lufe thus anys ȝyt:Les scho onwar, but caus, hir deth purvayt,Hir list na thyng behynd leif onassayt.Till hir scho gan hir systir call in hy:Annes, quod scho, thou seys how byssely,Our al the cost, for this vayage haist thai,And now the wynd blawis weil to sail away:The maryneris glaid lays thar schippis vndyr croys.O systir! in tyme kouth I haue trowyt this loys,And sa gret dolour, I had providyt, but weir,That this displesour suld haue beyn eith to beir.And netheles, for me, onhappy wight,Do this a thing, Annes, with al thi mycht:Sen ȝon ilk faithles man, deir systir, theWas wont to cherys, and hald in gret dante,And als hys secretis onto the reveill;Hys sweit entres sum tyme thou knew ful weill,Nane bot thou only the tyme of hys cummyng.Pas on, systir; in my name this a thyngSay lawly to my provd fa, and declair,That in the port Aulyda I neuer swairWith the Grekis the Troianys to distroy;Nor I non navy send to sege Troy;Nor ȝyt his fader Anchises graf schent;I nothir the muldis nor banys tharof rent.Quhy doith he reffus my wordis and prayerisTo lat entir in his dul ontretabill eris?Quhidder haistis he sa fast from hys behufeBeseik hym grant ontil his wrachyt lufeThis lattir reward, sen algatis he wil fle;Tary quhil wynd blaw soft, and stabill see.His ald promys na mair wil I hym crave,Nor band of wedlok, quhilk he hes dissave;Nor ȝyt him pray go not to Italy,Ne leif fair realmys, onto him destany:A litil delay I ask, but othir eys,A space my furor to asswage and meys;Quhill that my frawart forton and estaitOf my beleve schaw me I am frustrait,And tech me for to murn mair paciently.This lattir gift only at hym ask I.Haue mercy, systir, of thy systir deyr:Quhilk seruyce quhen thou done hes, without weir,I sal the recompens weil twenty fald,And, quhil my ded, the sam in memor hald.With syklyke wordis hir request scho maid.Hir supplicatioun, with teris ful onglaid,Reportis hir systir, and answer brocht aganeQuhou al hir prayeris and desyre was invane:For al thar wepyng mycht not him anys steir;Nane of thar wordis lykis hym to heir,Thocht he of natur was tretabill and curtas.The fatis war contrar thar desyre netheles,And hys benyng eris the goddis dyttit,That of thar askyng thar was nocht admittit.And lyke as quhen the ancyant aik tre,With hys byg schank, by north wynd oft we seIs ombeset, to bet hym down and ourthraw,Now heir, now thar, with the fell blastis blaw,The swouchand byr quhisland amang the granys,So that the hyast branchys, al atanys,Thar croppys bowis towart the erth als tyte,Quhen with the dynt the maister stok schank is smyte;And, netheles, the ilk tre, fixit fast,Stikkis to the rochis, not doun bet with the blast:For quhy? als far as his crop heich on breidStrekis in the ayr, als far hys rut doith spreidDeip vndir erth, towart the hell adoun:The sammyn wys was this gentil baroun,Now heir, now thar, with wordis ombeset,And in his stout breist, ful of thochtis het,Of reuth and amouris felt the perturbance.Bot euer his mynd stude ferm, for ony chanceOnmovyt, quhar hys fyrst purpos was set,That al for nocht the teris war furthȝet.Than suythly, the fey Dydo, al affrayt,Seand fatis contrar, eftir deth prayt:Scho irkit of hir lyfe, or to tak tentForto behald the hevynnys firmament.Tharfor, in takyn hir purpos to fulfill,And leif the lycht of lyfe, as was hyr will,As on the altaris byrnand ful of senseThe sacrifyce scho offerit, in hir presence,A grisly thyng to tell, scho gan behaldIn blak adyll the hallowyt watir caldChangyt and altyr, and furthȝet wynys gude,Onon returnyt into laithly blude.This visioun sche to nane reveil wald,Nor ȝyt to An, hir deir systir, it tald.In wirschip eik, within hir palyce ȝet,Of hir first husband, was a tempil betOf marbill, and hald in ful gret reverens,With snaw quhite bendis, carpettis, and ensens,And festuale burgeonys arrayt, on thar gys:Tharin was hard vocis, spech, and cryisOf hir said spous, clepand hir ful lowd,Evir quhen the dyrk nycht dyd the erth schrowd;And oft with wild scryke the nycht owle,Heich on the rufe, alane, was hard ȝowleWith langsum voce and a ful petuus beir.And eik bygane the feirful sawis seyrOf the dyvynys, with terribil monysyngis,Affrayt hir by mony grysly syngis.And in hir sleip, wod wroth, in euery placeHir semyt cruel Eneas gan hir chace;And evir, hir thocht, scho was left al alane,And, but cumpany, mony far way had gane,To seik hir folkis in a wilsum land.Lyke kyng Pentheus, in his wod rage dotand,Thocht he beheld gret rowtis stand in staillOf the Ewmenydes, fureys infernale,And in the lyft twa sonnys schynand cleir;The cite of Thebes gan dowbil to hym appeir:Or lyke Orestes, son of Agamenon,On theatreis, in farcis mony one,Rowpyt and sung how he his moder fled,With fyre brondis and blak serpentis ourcled,And saw the furyis, and grisly goddis fed,Sittand in the tempill port to wrek hir ded.