by Virgil
Quhat mycht than silly Nysus do or say?
Be quhat forss or wapynnys dar he assay
Forto deliuer hys tendir cousyng deir?
Suld he or not aventour hym self heir,
And rusch amyd hys ennemys in that sted,
To procur in haist by wondis ane honest ded?
Vprasys he onon hys arm bakwart
To thraw a gevillyng or a castyng dart,
And, lukand vpwart towart the cleir moyn,
With afald voce thus wyss he maid hys boyn:
“O Latonya, goddes of mekill myght,
Mastres of woddis, bewte of sternys brycht,
Be thou present, and send me thy supple,
Address my wark, be directrix,” said he:
“Gif euer that Hirtacus, my fader deir,
Offrit for me sum gift at thy alter;
Or gif that I of my huntyng and pray
Ekyt thy honour ony maner way,
Or, at thy standart knoppit post of tre,
Thy haly tempillys rufe, or bawkis hie,
Gif evir I hung or fixit ony thyng,
Wild bestis hed, wapynnys or armyng;
Thoil me to trubbill this gret rowt of men,
Do dress my dartis in this wilsum den,
So that my schote and myssour may go rycht
Throu the dyrk ayr and silens of the nycht.”
Thus sayand, with al forss of hys body
The grundyn dart he leyt do glyde in hy.
The fleand schaft the nycht schaddoys devydis,
And rycht forgane him on the tother sydis
It smate Sulmonys scheild, hang on his bak,
Quharin the querral al in schuldir brak;
Bot with the dynt the rynde is revyn swa,
Hys hart pipis the scharp hed persyt in twa.
Down duschis he in ded thraw all forlost,
The warm blude furth bokkand of his cost,
And for the cald of deth hys lungis lap,
With sobbys deip blawys with mony clap.
Hys ferys lukis about on euery syde,
To se quharfra the grundyn dart dyd glyde.
Bot lo, as thai thus wondrit in effray,
Thys ilk Nysus, worthin provd and gay,
And baldar of this chance swa with hym gone,
Ane other takill assayt he onon,
And with a sownd smate Tagus, but remede,
Throu athir part or tymplis of his hed;
In the harn pan the schaft he hes affixt,
Quhil blude and brane al togidder mixt.
The felloun capitane, Volscens, neir wod wendis,
Seand na man quhamof to get amendis;
He mycht do stanche his ire, and syth his thocht,
For quha that threw the dartis saw he nocht.
“Thou, not the less,” quod he, “that standis by,
With thy hait blude for baith twa sal aby
The pane for this myscheif.” And with that word,
He ran apon Euryll with drawyn sword.
Than Nisus, dredand for his fallow kynd,
Begouth to cry, all wod and owt of mynd,
Nor na langar in dern hym hyde he mycht,
Nor of his frend behald sa reuthfull syght:
“Me, me, e sla; lo, I am heir,” he said,
“That dyd the dede; turn hidder in me our blaid
And swerdis all, O e Rutilyanys!
All be my slycht now our feris slane is;
That silly innocent creatour so yng
Myght, nor it durst, on hand tak sic a thing —
Be hevynnys he, and all the starnys, I swer,
That ws behaldis with thar bemys cleir.”
Sik wordis said he, for on sic maner,
And sa strangly, his frend and fallow deir,
That sa myschancy was, belovit he,
That rather for hys life him self list de.
Bot thar was na remedy nor abaid:
The swerd, wightly stokit, or than was glaid
Throu owt hys cost — allace, the harmys smart!
That mylk quhite breist is persyt to the hart.
Down ded ruschit Eurialus ryght thar.
The blude bruschand outour his body fair,
And on hys elbok lenand a litill on wry,
Hys hed and hals bowys hevely —
Lyke as the purpour flour in fur or sewch,
Hys stalk in two smyt newly with the pleuch,
Dwynys away, as it doith faid or de;
Or as the chesbo hedis oft we se
Bow down thar knoppis, sowpit on thar grane,
Quhen thai be chargyt with the hevy rane.
Bot Nysus than ruschit amyd the rowt,
Amangis thame all sekand Volscens the stowt,
And on Volscens alanerly arestis,
Thocht rownd about with ennemys he prest is,
Quhilk heir and thar onon at euery syde
Hym ombeset with warkand woundis wyde.
Bot netheless thame stowtly he assalit,
Not amovit, as na thing him had alit,
And euer his schynand swerd about him swang,
Quhil at the last in Volscens mouth he thrang,
As he, forgane him standand, cryit and gapit.
Allace, quhat reuth was it he not eschapit!
For he deand bereft his fa the life;
Stekit and hurt sa oft with speir and knyfe,
Fell down abuf his frendis ded body,
Quhar best him likit ded to rest and ly.
O happy baith, O fortunat and dyng!
Gif myne endyt or stile may ony thing,
Nevir day nor process of tyme sal betyde,
That our renown sal owt of memor slyde,
Quhil the famyl and ofspring of Enee
The stane immovabill of the Capitolie
Inhabitis, and sa lang as Romanys bald
The monarchy of the empyre sal hald.
The schamful victouris, thir Rutilyanys,
The pray and spreth, and other geir that ganys,
Ioysyng but obstakil, Volscens ded body
Onto the tentis wepand bair in hy.
And na less murnyng hard thai in that sted
For Rhamnetes, fund hedless, pail and ded,
Togiddir with samony capitanys,
And gret herys, so wrachitly as slane is,
Serranus yng, and the gentill Numa,
And nobill corpsis brytnyt mony ma.
Gret press flokkit to se the bodeis schent,
Sum men it throwand half ded on the bent;
Of recent slauchter and the hait effray
The feld abowt all warmyt quhar thai lay,
That all with spait was blandyt and on flude
In bullyrrand stremys of the fomy blude.
The spule led away was knaw full rycht,
Mesapus rich hewmet schynand brycht,
The goldin gyrdill, and trappouris prowdly wrocht,
With mekill swete and labour agane brocht.
Ewrillys moder hir sonnys deth bewalis,
And quhou Rutilianys the cyte first assalis.
Be this Aurora, levand the safron bed
Of hir lord Titan, had the erth ourspred
With new cleirness, and the son scheyn
Begouth defund hys bemys on the greyn,
That euery thing worth patent in the lyght.
Turnus, enarmyt as ane douchty knyght,
Till armys steris euery man abowt,
In plait and maill full mony forcy rowt
Prouocand to the bargane and assay;
Ilk capitane hys folkis settis in array,
And gan thar curage kyndill in ire to fyght,
Be schamefull murmur of this ister nycht.
And forthir eik, ane miserabill thing to se,
Ewril and Nysus hedys, on speris hie
Fixit, thai rasyt haldand to the wall,
With huge clamour followyng ane and all.
The forcy and the stowt Eneadanys,
That for the tyme in this cite remanys,
The bront and fors of thar army that tyde
Endlang the wallis set on the left syde,
For on the rycht hand closyt the ryver;
Thai held the forfront quhar thar was danger,
Kepand the braid fowseis and towris hie;
And as thai stand ful dolorusly, thai se
The twa hedys stikkand on the speris,
A miserabil syght, allace, onto thar feris;
Thar facis war ourweil bekend, baith twa,
The blaknyt dedly blude droppand tharfra.
In the meyn quhile, throw the drery cite
The weyngit messynger, Fame, dyd swyftly fle,
And slippand come to thy moder, Ewrilly.
Than suddanly that wrachit wight onsilly
Al pail become, as na blude in hir left,
The naturale heit was from the banys reft.
Furth of hir hand the spynnyng quheil smate sche,
The arn clewis, spyndill and broche of tre,
All swakkit our, and full onhappely
Furth fleys scho with mony schowt and cry,
With wepyng and with wifly womentyng,
Ryvand hir haris, to the wallys can thring
All wod enragit, and with a spedy payss
Dyd occupy tharon the formaste place,
Takand nane hed, na it na maner schame,
Swa amangis men to ryn, and rowp or raym;
Na maner feir of perrel seys sche,
Nor mynd of dartis cast that fast dyd fle.
And as that from the wall hyr sonnys hede
Behaldis sche, wofull, and will of rede,
With hir petuus rewthfull complantis sayr
The hevynnys all scho fillyt and the ayr.
“O my Ewryll,” lamentabilly scho cryis,
“Sall I the se demanyt on syk wyss?
O thou, the lattyr quyet of myne age,
Quhou mycht thou be sa cruell in thy rage
As me to leif alyve, thus myne allane?
O my maist tendir hart, quhar art thou gane?
Na licens grantit was, nor tyme, ne space,
To me thy wrachit moder, allace, allace,
Quhen thou thy self onto sik perrellis set,
That I with the mycht samekill laser get
Als forto tak my leif for evir and ay,
Thy last regrait and quethyng wordis to say.
Ichane, allace, intill ane oncouth land,
Nakyt and bair thy fair body on sand
To fowlys of reif and savage doggis wild
Sall ly as pray, myne awin deir only child!
Nor I, thy moder, layd not thy corps on beir,
Nor with my handis lowkyt thyne eyn so cleir,
Nor wysche thy wondis to reduce thy spreit,
Nor drest the in thy lattir clathis meyt,
The quhilkis I wrocht, God wayt, to mak the gay,
Full bissely spynnand baith nycht and day,
And with sic wobbis and wark, for the, my page,
I comfort me in myne onweldy age,
And irkyt not to laubour for thy sake.
Quhar sall I seik the now? allake, allake!
Or in quhat land lyis now, maglyt and schent,
Thy fair body, and membris tyrvit and rent?
O deir son myne, O tendir get,” quod sche,
“Is this the comfort at thou dois to me,
Quhilk hes the followyt baith our seys and landis?
O e Rutilianys, steik me with our brandis;
Gyf thar be rewth or piete in our banys,
Do swak at me our dartis all atanys;
With our wapynnys first e sal me sla.
O thou gret fader of goddis,” can scho say,
“Haue reuth apon me, wrach of wrachis all,
And on my catyve hed thou lat dovn fall
Thy thundris dynt of wildfyre fra the hevin,
Law vndre hell tharwith to smyte me evin,
Sen that this langsum cruel life I ne may
Consume nor endyng be nane other way.”
With this regrait the Troiane myndis all
War smyte with reuth; endlang the large wall
The duylfull murnyng went and womentyng;
Thar hie curage, to tel a wondyr thyng,
That oneffrayt was batale to sustene,
Wolx dolf and dull the petuus sycht to sene.
Bot as scho thus kyndillis sorow and wo,
Ane Ideus, and Actor, Troianys two,
At the command of Illyoneus past,
And yng Ascanyus wepand wonder fast,
And hynt hyr vp betwix thar armys squar,
Syne hamewart to hir lugyng thai hyr bair.
Bot than the trumpettis weirly blastis abundis,
With terribill brag of brasyn bludy soundis;
The skry, the clamour, followys the ost within,
Quhill all the hevynnys bemyt of the dyn.
The Volscenaris assemblyt in a sop
To fyll the fowseis and the wallis to slop,
All sammyn hastand with a pavyss of tre
Hesyt togidder abuf thar hedys hie;
Sa sairly knyt that maner embuschment
Semyt tobe a closs volt quhar thai went.
Ane other sort pressyt to haue entre,
And clym the wallis with leddyrris large and hie,
Quhar as the army of the Troiane syde
Was thynnast scattyrrit on the wallis wyde,
And brycht arrayt cumpany of the men
War diuidit or sloppit, at thai mycht ken
The weirmen not sa thyk in syk a place.
Bot the Troianys, that oft in sik lyke cace
Be lang vsage of weir war lernyt and kend
Quhou thai thar town and wallys suld defend,
All kynd of wapynnys and dartis at thame slyngis,
And dang thame down with pikkis and poyntit styngis,
Down weltyng eik of huge weght gret stanys,
Be ony way gif tharby for the nanys
Thai mycht on forss dissevyr that pune
Quhilk thame assaleit thekit with pavyss he,
For weill thai knew thar fays al maner of teyn
Vndir that volt of targis myght systeyn,
Sa lang as thai sammyn onsyverit war.
Bot now thai mycht thar ordour hald na mar;
For the Troianys, or evyr thai wald cess,
Thar as the thikast rowt was and maist press,
Ane huge weght or hepe of mekill stanys
Ruschys and weltis down on thame atanys,
That diuerss of Rutilianys lay thar ondyr;
The laif skalyt on brede; brok was in sondir
The covertouris and ordinance of thar scheldis.
Fra thens, the hardy Rutilianys in the feildis
Pressyt na mar in hydlys forto fyght,
Bot thame enforcis now with all thar mycht,
With ganeis, arrowys, and with dartis slyng,
Thar famen from the wallys forto dyng.
And at ane other syde with felloun feir
Meentyus the grym, apon a speir,
Or heich styng or stour of the fyr tre,
The blak fyre bless of reik in swakkis he;
And Mesapus, the dantar of the horssys,
Neptunus son, with hys mene enforcis
Tyl vndermynd the dike and rent the paill —
Leddyris he axis the wallys to assaill.
Quhou Turnus set the et towr into fyre,
And maid gret slauchter of Troianys in his ire.
Calliope, and O e musys all,
Inspire me til endyte! On ou I call
To schaw quhat slauchter and occisioun,
Quhou feill corpsis thar war brytnyt doun
By Turnus wapynnys and hys dartis fell,
Quham euery man kyllit and send to hell:
Help and assist to revolue heir with me
The extreme dangeris of that gret melle.
he blissyt wightis, forsuyth, ramembris weill
Sik thyngis, and quhar ou lyst may reveill.
Thar stude a towr of tre, huge of hycht,
With batellyng and kyrnellys all at ryght,
Set in ane neidfull place neir by the et,
Quham to assaile, ourcum and down bet,
With hail pyssance all the Italianys
At vtir power ombeset atanys;
And by the contrar, on the tother syde
Alkynd defencis can Troianys provyde,
Threw stanys down, and sillys heir and thar,
At euery part or oppyn fenystar
The grundyn dartis leyt down fle thikfald.
Turnus the prynce, at was baith darf and bald,
Ane byrnand bleiss leyt at the fortress glyde,
And festynnyt the fyre hard to the towris syde,
Quhilk with the wyndis blast, thar as it stak,
Vpblesyt in the burdis and the thak,
And spreddis wide amangis the gestis gret;
The byrnand low consumyt all throu hete.
Within thai schuddrit for the fell effray,
Bot all for nocht to press to wyn away;
Na laser was the danger to eschape,
For as thai ran abak, and can thame schaip
Fortill withdraw towart the tother syde
Quhar as the fyre was not it ourglyde,
And hurlyt all togydder in a hepe,
Tho with thar swechtis, as thai reill and leipe,
The byrnand towr down rollys with a rusche,
Quhill all the hevynnys dyndlyt of the dusch.
Down weltis the men half ded with brokyn banys,
The huge heip thame followit all atanys,
On thar awyn wapynnys stikkand he and he,
Sum stekit throu the cost with spilys of tre
Lay gaspand, of thame all that scarsly tway,
Ane Helenor and Lycus, gat away;
Of quhom the formest, this ilk Helenor,
Now in hys florist outh, was get and bor
Betwix Meonyus kyng, in prevyte,
And Lycynya the boynd wench wondir sle,
Quhilk hym to Troy had send that hendyr er,
Onkend, in armour forbodyn for wer;
Delyver he was with drawin swerd in hand
And quhite target, onsemly and evill farrand.
Thys Helenor, seand hym self in dowt
Amyd thousandis enarmyt of Latyn rowt,
Behaldand graithly apon athir hand
Arrayt ostis of Latyn pepill stand;
Lyke the wild ragyt best, quham huntaris stowt
Hess ombeset with thyk range all abowt,
Seand be na meyn that scho mycht evaid,
Apon the wapynnys rynnys with a braid,
Slyppis hir self, and with gret forss hir beris
Apon the pantis of the huntyng speris —
Nane othir wyss, this ilk ong Helenor,
Thus ombeset behynd and als befor,
Amyd hys fays ruschys reddy to de,
Quhar thikkast was the press thar etlys he,
Quhilkis, but abaid, alssone hess hym slane