The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse. Gawin Douglas

      Bot now the hasty, egyr, and wild Dydo,

      Into hyr cruell purpos enragyt so,

      The bludy eyn rollyng in hir hed,

      Wan and ful paill for feir of the neir ded,

      With chekis freklyt, and al of tythirris bysprent,

      Quakyng throu dreid, ruschit furth, or scho wald stent,

      Onto the innar wardis of hyr place,

      As wod woman clam on the byng, allace!

      And furth scho drew the Troiane swerd, fute hait,

      A wapyn was neuer wrocht for syk a nate.

      And sone as sche beheld Eneas clething,

      And eik the bed bekend, a quhile wepyng,

      Stude musyng in hir mynd; and syne, but baid,

      Fel in the bed, and thir last wordis faid:

      O sweit habyte, and lykand bed, quod sche,

      So lang as God lyst suffir and destane,

      Ressaue my blude, and this sawle that on flocht is,

      And me delyvir from thir hevy thochtis.

      Thus lang I levyt haue, and now is spent

      The term of lyfe that forton heth me lent;

      For now my gret gost vndir erth mon go.

      A richt fair cite haue I beild alsso:

      Myne awyn wark and wallys behald haue I:

      My spows wrokyn of my brothir ennemy,

      Fra hym byreft hys tressour, and quyt hym weill.

      Happy, allace! our happy, and ful of seyll,

      Had I beyn, only gyf that neuer nane

      At our cost had arryvit schip Troiane.

      And sayand this, hir mouth fast thristis sche

      Doun in the bed: Onwrokyn sal we de?

      De ws behufis, scho said, and quhou; behald!

      And gan the scharp sword to hir breist vphald;

      Ȝa, thus, thus lykis ws starve and to depart:

      And, with that word, rave hir self to the hart.

      Now lat ȝon cruel Troiane swelly and se

      This our fyre funerale from the deip see,

      And of our deth turs with hym fra Cartage

      Thys takyn of myscheif in hys vayage.

      Quod scho: and, tharwith, gan hir seruandis behald

      Hir fallyn and stekit on the irne cald;

      The blude outbullyrand on the nakyt swerd;

      Hir handis furthsprent. The clamour than and rerd

      Went to the toppys of the large hallys;

      The noys ran wild out our the cite wallis,

      Smate all the town with lamentabill murnyng.

      Of greting, gowlyng, and wyfly womentyng,

      The ruffis dyd resound, bray, and rayr,

      Quhil huge bewalyng al fordynnyt the air:

      Nane other wys than thocht takyn and doun bet

      War al Cartage, and with ennemys ourset,

      Or than thar natyve cite, the town of Tyre;

      And furyus flambe, kendillit and byrnand schyre,

      Spredyng fra thak to thak, baith but and ben,

      Als weil our templis as howsis of othir men.

      Hir systir An, spreitles almaist for dreid,

      Heirand sa feirful confluens thyddir speid,

      With nalys ryvand reuthfully hir face,

      And smytand with hir nevis hir breist, allace!

      Fast ruschis throu the myddis of the rowt,

      And on the throwand, with mony sprauch and schout,

      Callys by name: Systir germane, quod scho,

      Och! was this it thou fenȝeit the to do?

      Hes thou attempyt me with syk dissait?

      This byng of treys, thir altaris, and fyris hait,

      Is this the thyng thai haue onto me dycht?

      Quhat sall I first compleyn, now dissolate wight?

      O deir systir, quhen thou was reddy to de,

      Ha! quhy hes thou sa far dyspysyt me

      As to reffus thi systir with the to wend?

      Thou suld haue callyt me to the sammyn end;

      That the ilk sorow, the sammyn swerd, both tway,

      And the self hour, mycht haue tane hyne away.

      Thys funeral fyre with thir handis biggyt I,

      And with my voce dyd on our goddis heir cry,

      To that effect as, cruel, tobe absent,

      Thou beand thus sa duylfully heir schent!

      Sistir, allace! with my counsell haue I

      The, and my self, and pepill of Sydony,

      The heris all, and eik thi fayr cite,

      Distroyt and ondoyn for ay, quod sche.

      Fech hiddir sone the well watir lew warm,

      To wesch hir woundis, and hald hir in myne arm;

      Syne with my mowth at I may sowk, and se

      Gyf spreit of lyve left in hir body be.

      This sayand, the hie byng ascendis onane,

      And gan enbrays half ded hir systir germane,

      Culȝeand in hir bosum, and murnand ay,

      And with hir wympil wipyt the blude away.

      And scho agane, Dydo, the dedly queyn,

      Pressyt fortil vplift hir hevy eyn,

      Bot tharof falys; for the grysly wound

      Deip in hir breist gapis wyde and onsound.

      Thrys scho hir self raxit vp to rys;

      Thrys on hir elbok lenys; and als feill sys

      Scho fallys bakwart in the bed