The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse. Gawin Douglas
a sentens to follow may suffice me:
Sum tyme I follow the text als neir I may,
Sum tyme I am constrenyt ane other way.
Besyde Latyn our langage is imperfite,
Quhilk in sum part is the caus and the wyte
Quhy that of Virgillis vers the ornate bewte
Intill our tung may nocht obseruyt be;
For thar be Latyn wordis, mony ane,
That in our leyd ganand translatioun has nane,
Les than we mynys thar sentens and grauyte,
And ȝit scant weill exponyt; quha trewis nocht me
Let thame interprit animal and homo,
With many hundreth other termys mo,
Quhilkis in our langage suythly, as I weyn,
Few men can tell me cleirly quhat thai meyn;
Betweyn genus, sexus, and species
Diuersite in our leid to seik I ces;
For obiectum and subiectum alsswa
He war expert couth fynd me termys twa,
Quhilkis ar als ryfe amangis clerkis in scuyll
As evir fowlis plungit in laik or puyll.
Logicianys knawys heirin myne entent,
Vndir quhais boundis lurkis mony strange went,
Quharof the proces, as now, we mon lat be.
Bot ȝit twychyng our tungis penuryte,
I meyn into compar of fair Latyn,
That knawyn is maste perfite langage fyne,
I mycht also, percace, cum lyddir speid
For arbor and lignum intill our leid
To fynd different proper termys twane,
And tharto put circumlocutioun nane;
Rycht so, by about spech oftyn tymys
And semabill wordis we compile our rymys.
God wait, in Virgill ar termys mony a hundir
Fortill expone maid me a felloun blundir;
To follow alanerly Virgilis wordis, I weyn,
Thar suld few vndirstand me quhat thai meyn;
The bewte of his ornate eloquens
May nocht al tyme be kepit with the sentens.
Sanct Gregor eik forbyddis ws to translait
Word eftir word, bot sentens follow al gait.
Quha haldis, quod he, of wordis the properteis
Full oft the verite of the sentens fleys.
And to the sammyn purpos we may apply
Horatius in hys art of poetry;
Pres nocht, says he, thou traste interpreter,
Word eftir word to translait thi mater.
Lo he reprevis, and haldis myssemyng,
Ay word by word to reduce ony thing.
I say nocht this of Chauser for offens,
But till excus my lewyt insufficiens;
For as he standis beneth Virgill in gre,
Vndir hym alsfer I grant my self to be.
And netheles into sum place, quha kend it,
My mastir Chauser gretly Virgill offendit.
All thoch I be to bald hym to repreif,
He was fer baldar, certis, by hys leif,
Sayand he followit Virgillis lantern toforn,
Quhou Eneas to Dydo was forsworn.
Was he forsworn? Than Eneas was fals;
That he admittis, and callys hym traytour als.
Thus, wenyng, allane Ene to haue reprevit,
He has gretly the prynce of poetis grevit.
For, as said is, Virgill dyd diligens,
But spot of cryme, reproch, or ony offens,
Eneas for to loif and magnyfy;
And gif he grantis hym maynsworn fowlely,
Than all hys cuyr and crafty engyne gais quyte,
Hys twelf ȝheris laubouris war nocht worth a myte.
Certis, Virgill schawys Ene dyd na thing,
From Dydo of Cartage at hys departyng,
Bot quhilk the goddis commandit hym beforn;
And gif that thar command maid hym maynsworn,
That war repreif to thar diuinyte,
And na reproch onto the said Enee.
Als in the first, quhar Ilioneus
Spekis to the queyn Dido, says he nocht thus,
Thar curs by fait was set tyll Italy?
Thus mycht scho not pretend na just caus quhy,
Thocht Troianys eftir departis of Cartage,
Sen thai befor declaryt hir thar vayage.
Reid the ferd buke quhar queyn Dido is wraith,
Thar sal ȝhe fynd Ene maid nevir aith,
Promyt, nor band with hir fortill abyde:
Thus hym tobe maynsworn may nevir betyde,
Nor nane onkyndnes schew forto depart
At the bydding of Jove with reuthfull hart,
Sen the command of God obey suld all,
And vndir his charge na wrangwys deid may fall.
Bot sikkyrly, of resson, me behufis
Excus Chauser fra all maner repruffis,
In lovyng of thir ladeis lylly quhyte
He set on Virgill and Eneas this wyte;
For he was evir, God wait, all womanis frend.
I say na mair, bot, gentil redaris heynd,
Lat all my faltis with this offens pas by.
Thou prynce of poetis, I the mercy cry,
I meyn thou kyng of kyngis, lord etern,
Thou be my muse, my gydar, and laid stern,
Remittyng my trespas and euery mys
Throu prayer of thy moder queyn of blys!
Afald godhed, ay lestyng, but discrepans,
In personys thre, equale of a substans,
On the I call and Mary Virgyn myld;
Calliope nor payan goddis wild
May do to me na thing bot harm, I weyn,
In Criste is all my traste and hevynnys queyn.
Thou virgyn moder and madyn be my muse,
That nevir ȝit na synfull lyst refus
Quhilk the besocht deuotly for supple;
Albeit my sang to thy hie maieste
Accordis nocht, ȝit condiscend to my write,
For the sweit liquor of thy pappis quhite
Fosterit that prynce, that hevynly Orpheus,
Grond of all gude, our Saluyour Ihesus.
Bot forthirmor, and lawar to discend,
Forgeif me Virgill gif I the offend,
Pardon thy Scolar, suffir hym to ryme,
Sen thou was bot ane mortal man sum tyme;
In cace I faill haue me not at disdenȝe,
Thocht