The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse. Gawin Douglas

The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse - Gawin Douglas


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erekkit, and of erd a gret fluyr

      Kest in a hepe abuf his sepultur:

      Syne, in ramembrance of the sawlis went,

      The dolorus altaris fast by war vpstent,

      Crownyt with garlandis al of haw sey hewis,

      And with the blaiknyt cypres dedly bewis.

      The Troiane wemen stude with hayr down schaik,

      About the beir weping with mony allake!

      And on we kest of warm mylk mony a skul,

      And of the blude of sacrifyce cowpis full:

      The sawle we bery in sepultur on this wys,

      The lattir hailsyng syne lowd schowtit thrys,

      Rowpand atanys, adew! quhen al is done,

      Ilkane per ordour, the mon we follow sone.

      CAP. II

      Quhou Eneas socht answer at Apollyne,

      And quhou he to the land of Crete is salyt syne.

      Syne, quhen we se our tyme to sail maist habill,

      The blastis mesit, and the fludis stabill,

      The softe piping wynd callyng to see,

      Thar schippis than furth settis our menȝe:

      Ȝe mycht haue sene the costis and the strandis

      Fillit with portage and pepil tharon standis.

      Furth of the havin we salit al onone;

      The sicht of land and cite sone is gone.

      Amyd the sey yclepit Egeos

      Ane haly iland lyis, that hait Delos,

      Beluffit of Neptune, and the moder alswa

      Of the Nereydes, clepit Doryda;

      Quham the cheritabil archer, Appollo,

      Quhen it flet rollyng from costis to and fro,

      Saisit and band betwix other ilis twa,

      Quhilk clepit ar Mycone and Gyara,

      Stablisyng so that it mycht lauborit be,

      And comptis nowthir the wynd nor storm of see.

      Thidder ar we careit, and, in that plesand land,

      A sovir havyn ressavit ws at hand.

      Al wery beyn we yschit furth of schip

      The cite of Apollo to wirschip:

      The kyng tharof, yclepit Anyvs,

      Prince of the men, and preste eik to Phebus,

      With bendis baith and haly lawrer crown

      Set on his hed, met ws withowt the town;

      His agit frend Anchises knew this kyng.

      Handis we schuke with hartly welcumyng,

      And to his palyce al with hym we went,

      Quhar that I wirschip, as wes myne entent,

      The god Appollo, within his hallowit hald

      Or tempil beldyt al of stanys ald.

      O thou, quod I, Appollo Tymbreus,

      Sum propir dwellyng place thou grant to ws;

      We the beseik that schaw alsso thou wald

      To ws irkit sum strenth and stalwart hald,

      And at thou grant ws eik successioun,

      And for to dwel in a remanand town.

      Salve ws, lattir wardis of Troy, that we ne spill,

      Levyngis of Grekis and of the fers Achill.

      Geif ws thine answer quharon we sal depend;

      Quhidder wilt thou, fader, at we now wend?

      Quhar sall we set our lugyng to remane?

      Condiscend in our myndis, and schaw this plane.

      Scars war thir wordis said, quhen that I se

      Al thingis trymmyl and schaik neir abowt me,

      The durris and the lawrer tre, but dowt,

      And al the montane movit rownd about:

      A murmur or a rumysyng hard we haue

      Within the courtyng and the secret cave;

      The quyet closettis oppynnyt with a rerd,

      And, we plat law gruflyngis on the erd,

      A voce com til our erys, sayand thus;

      O ȝe dowr pepil discend from Dardanus,

      The ilke grond, fra quham the first stok cam

      Of ȝour lynnage, with blyth bosum the sam

      Sal ȝou ressaue thidder returnyng agane:

      To seik ȝour ald moder mak ȝou bane.

      Thar sal Eneas lynnage haue senȝeory

      Our al realmys and landis vndir the sky,

      And thar sonnys, and sonnys sonnys syne,

      And al that evir succedis of thar lyne.

      Thus said Phebus; and than, our folkis amang,

      Mixt with blithnes a fellon dyn vpsprang:

      Quhat place was this, euery ane fast gan frane,

      Quhidder callis Phebus? byddis he ws turn agane?

      My fader than, revoluyng in his mynd,

      The discens of forfaderis of our strynd,

      Nobillis, quod he, harkis quhat I sal say,

      And leyr at me ȝour weilfair, I ȝou pray.

      The ile of Crete lyis amyd the see,

      The native land of Jupiter maist hie;

      Thar is the first hyll, yclepit Ida,

      Thar our forbearis first in thar credlys lay;

      The land maist plentevs of wyne, oyl, and quhete,

      Inhabyt with a hundreth citeis gret,

      Quharfra thar com, gif I remembir rycht,

      Our gret forfader Teucrus the wycht,

      First to the cost of Rethea in Phrygy,

      And for his cite chesit the set fast by:

      For ȝit than was not Ilion vpbeld,

      Nor the strang wallis of Troy; bot on the feld

      Thai dwelt in lugys and mony litil cave.

      The adornar eik of our realm we haue

      From that land, the moder of goddis Cybele,

      And blast of brasyn trumpettis, as ȝe se:

      From thens com eik the wod of Idea,

      And the traist serymonys of sacrifice alswa:

      The fasson eik and gys we lernyt thar

      Quhou the lyonys suld draw the ladeis char.

      Haue done onon, tharfor, and lat ws wend

      Thidder quhar the goddis oracle haith ws kend.

      The wynd first lat ws meys, or that we ga,

      Syne seik the realm of Crete and Gnosia:

      It is not thens lang cowrs nor vyage far;

      Our navy sall, with help of Jupiter,

      The thrid morow be at the cost of Crete.

      This beand said, ganand offerandis ful mete

      Befor the altaris he slew in sacrifyce;

      A bul first to Neptune, as is the gys,

      A bull to brycht Appollo for his beheist,

      And to the god of tempestis a blak beist,

      And


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