The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse. Gawin Douglas

      The fyre and wapynnys gave me place, and fled.

      So happely the goddes gydit me,

      Quhil that within the portis and entre

      Of my faderis lugyng am I cummyn;

      My fader, than, quham I schupe to haue nummyn,

      And caryit to the nerrest hillys hycht,

      And hym tharto solist with al my mycht;

      Bot he reffusys or euer to leif in joy

      Eftir the rwyne and distructioun of Troy:

      To suffir exile he said that he ne couth.

      O ȝe! quod he, in blude and florist ȝouth,

      That has ȝour strenth ȝit, and ȝour forcy mycht,

      Pas on ȝour way onone, and tak the flycht.

      Gif goddis lykyt lenth my life langar space,

      Thai wald haue salwyt to me this litil place.

      It is eneuch, eneuch, and mair, I weyn,

      A distructioun of Troy that we haue seyn,

      Remanyng alyve eftyr the cite tane.

      So, so, hald on, leif this ded body alane;

      Say the last quething word, adew, to me.

      I sal my deth purches thus, quod he:

      Quhen our ennemys seys me enarmyt stand,

      Sum sal haue reuth, and sla me with his brand,

      To get my spulȝe; quhat of the body na cure;

      The corps is sone warpit in sepulture.

      Hatit of the goddis, to all nedis onhabill,

      Thir mony ȝeris I left inprofitabill,

      Ay sen the fader of goddis and kyng of men

      With thunderis blast me smate, as that ȝe ken,

      And with his fyry levin me omberauch,

      That we intill our langage clepe fyreflauch.

      Rehersyng this, fermly he dyd remane

      At his first purpos fixt, and we agane

      Furthȝetting teris, and our spows Crevsa,

      Ascanyus ȝyng, and al our menȝe alswa

      Besowth my fader to salue his wery banys,

      And not be wilful to perys all atanys,

      And to escheif the chance as it was went:

      Plat he reffusys, anherdyng to his entent,

      The fyrst sentence haldyng euer ane.

      To start to harnes I am compeld agane,

      And, as maste wrachit and miserabil catyve,

      Ded I desyrit, and irkyt of my lyve;

      For by na wysdome, nor chance, persave I mycht

      We couth eschape, nor ȝit by fors in fyght.

      O deir fader, quhat wenys thou for ded,

      A fut, quod I, me to steir of this sted,

      And leif the heir? O God! quha euer couth

      Sik cryme to me be said of faderis mouth!

      Bot gif it lykis to the goddis hie

      Na thing be left of sa fayr a cite,

      Or gyf thou hest in mynd decretit eik,

      And weil lykis thi self and thine to eik

      Onto the rewyne of Troy, and tobe schent,

      Ded at our dur is reddy and patent.

      From mekil blude schedding of Priamus

      Hiddir, belyfe, sal cum cruell Pyrrus,

      Quhilk brytnys the son befor the faderis face,

      And gorris the fader at the altare but grace.

      Is this the way, my haly moder, at thou

      Suld kepe me, fays and fyris passand throu,

      That I behald, within my chawmyr secrete,

      Myne ennemys, and se Ascanyus swete,

      My deir fader, and Crevsa my wyfe,

      Athir in otheris hait blude leys thar lyfe?

      Harnes, seruandis, harnes bryng hydder sone:

      The lattyr end, thus venquyst and ondone,

      Callys ws agane to batale and assay;

      Adone, cum on, this is our lattir day.

      Rendir me to the Grekis, or suffir me

      The bargane agane begun at I may se;

      This day onwrokyn we sal neuer all be slane.

      Abowt me than my swerd I belt agane,

      And schot my left arme in my scheild al meit,

      Bownyng me furth; quhen lo! abowt my feit

      My spows lappit fell down into the ȝet,

      And litill Iulus forgane his fader vpset:

      Gyf thou lyst pas, quod scho, thi self to spill,

      Harl ws with the in all perrell quhar thou will;

      Bot gif thou trastis, as expert in thi dedis,

      Ony help by fors of armys, than the nedis

      First to defend and kepe this hows, quod scho,

      Quharin thi ȝong son and thi fader beyn, lo!

      And I vmquhile that salbe clepit thi spows;

      Quham to sall we be left in this waist hows?

      CAP. XI

      Quhou Eneas hys fader bayr away,

      And how he lost Crevsa by the way.