Gawin Douglas - The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse

Pardon and lyfe to thir terys geif we,
Quod Priamus, and mercy grantis fre.
And, first of all, the mannykillis and hard bandis
Chargit he lows of this ilk manis handis;
With frendly wordis syne thus onto hym said,
Quhat evir thou art, beis mery and glaid,
Forȝet the Grekis that lost ar and away,
From thens fordwart thou salbe owris, perfay.
Bot schaw trewly this a thing I inquer,
Onto quhat fyne this huge hors was heir,
Of sa gret statur beldit vp on hie:
Quha wrocht the wark? quhat may it signyfie?
Quhat is it? ane offerand of sum halynes?
Or sum engyne of batale? as I ges,
Said Priamus. Bot than the tother wight,
Ful weil instrukit of Grekis art and slycht,
Lowsit and laitly fred of al his bandis,
Onto the starnys hevit vp his handis:
O ȝhe, quod he, euerlestand lampis brycht,
And ȝour dyvyne power and ȝour gret mycht,
That aucht not beyn forsworn, I testefy;
And ȝou altaris, and cruel swordis, quham I
Am eschapit, and al ȝou goddis wys
Quhais garlandis bair I as ȝour sacryfys,
Leiffull is now to brek, but mair abaid,
The sworn promys that I to Grekis maid;
Leiffull is eik tha pepill fortil hait,
And schaw furth planely al at euer I wait,
Thar hyd slycht als to rype furth to the grund:
To na cuntre nor lawis am I bund.
Sa mot thou, Troy, quham I sal salue fra skayth,
Kepe me thy promys and thi lawte baith,
As I sal schaw the verite ilke deill,
And for my lyfe sal rendir ȝou a gret weill.
The Grekis trast and comfort, mony ȝheris,
From the begynnyng of thir mortale weris,
On Pallas help stude haill this towne to get:
Bot efter that Thedeus, wareit get,
With Vlixes, fyndar of wykkytnes,
The fatale rellyk of Palladium, I ges,
Furth of hir tempill, and the hallowit hald,
To reif away forsabilly war so bald,
And sla the wachis of the cheif castell,
The haly ymage, grysly forto tell,
Pollute and fylit, and with thar bludy handis
Hir vyrgyne valis and blissit godly garlandis
Presumyt twich; sen syne has euermair
Bakwart of Grekis the hope went and weilfair;
Thar mychtis and thar strenthis feblit fast:
So frawart thame hir mynd this god hes kast
That with na dowtsum takynnys, ma than twa,
Hir greif furth schew this ilke Trytonia.
Skarsly the statw was in thar tempill vpset,
Quhen all hir membris bittir terys swet;
Hir eyn glowit as ony gleid for ire,
Quharfra thar flaw mony sparkis of fyre;
A teyrful thing, and wonderfull to tell;
Thrys schynyng down on the grond scho fell,
Hyr targe trymlyng, and schakyng fast hir speir.
Onone, al most ȝe wend to sey infeir,
Cryis Calcas, nor Grekis instrument
Of Troy the wallis sal neuer hurt ne rent,
Les than agane the land of Arge be socht,
With alkyn portage quhilk was hydder brocht
In barge or bilgeit ballyngare our see:
The goddes mon be mesit als, quod he.
And now, set thai, with this ilke wynd, haue socht
Thar land of Grece or Myce, this is thar thocht,
To graith thar armour and wapynnys by and by,
And, with supple of goddis in cumpany,
In haist forto return agane our see;
Or ȝe beyn war, apon ȝou will thai be.
Thus al per ordour declaris thame Calcas,
At quhais monicioun als vp biggit was
This bustuus form, in lyknes of a hors,
For Palladium, and to appeis the fors
Of the goddes, and into recompens
Of thar wrachit and dolorus offens.
And mairatour, of sa huge quantite
Calcas commandis beld this statw of tre,
Thus large and gret, weil neir the hevyn on hycht,
So at the portis it ne entyr myght,
Nor ȝit be brocht within ȝour wallys wyde,
Nor ȝour pepill favour, help, nor gyde
Eftir the auld relligioun and vsage.
For gif ȝour handis had violet, in ȝour rage,
This haly presand of the god Mynerve,
Gret wraik suld follow that al suld ȝe sterve,
Priamus ryng distroyit, and al ȝour pelf;
Quhilk destany goddis turn rather in hym self!
Bot gif this ilk statw, standis heir wrocht,
War with ȝour handis into the cite brocht,
Than schew he that the pepil of Asya,
But ony obstakill, in fell batale suld ga,
Bet down the townys of Arge that regioun,
And the sam fait happyn our successioune.
By sik wylis and slychtis, mony one,
Of fals controvit and maynsworn Synone,
The mater is belevit with all it heris;
And takyn ar, by dissait and fenȝeit teris,
Tha pepil quham the son of Thedeus,
Nor fers Achilles, clepit Larysseus,
Nor Grece ten ȝheris in batale mycht ourcum,
Nor ȝit the thousand schippis al and sum.

Betyd, the ilke tyde, a fer grettar woundir,
And mair dreidful to catyvis be sik hunder,
Quhilk of Troianys trublit mony onwarnyt breste.
As Laocon, that was Neptunus prest,
And chosyn by kavill onto that ilk office,
A fair gret bull offerit in sacrifyce
Solemnytly befor the haly alteir,
Throw the styl sey, from Tenedos, infeir,
Lo! twa gret lowpit edderis, with mony thraw,
Fast throu the flude towart the land gan draw.
My spreit abhorris this mater to declare;
Abufe the watir thar hals stude euermare,
With bludy crestis owtwith the wallis hie;
The remanent swam al ways vnder see,
With grysly bodeis lynkit mony fald;
The salt fame stowris from the fard thai hald:
Onto the grund thai glaid with glowand eyn
Stuffit full of vennom, fyre, and fellon teyn,
Wyth tongis quhislyng in thar mowthis red
Thai lyk the twynkland stangis in thar hed.
We fled away al bludeles for affeir;
Bot, wyth a braid, to Laocon infeir
Thai start atanys; and hys twa sonnys ȝyng
First athir serpent lappit lyke a ryng,
And, with thar cruell byt and stangis fell,
Of tendir membris tuke mony sary morcell;
Syne thai the prest invadit, baith twane,
Quhilk with hys wapynnys dyd hys byssy pane
His childryng forto helpyn and reskew.
Bot thai about hym lowpit in wympillis threw,
And twys cyrkyllit his myddil rownd about,
And twys faldis thar sprutlit skynnys, but dowt,
About hys hals; bath nek and hede thai schent:
As he etlys thar hankis to haue rent
Of with his handis, and thame away haue draw,
Hys hed bendis and garlandis all war blaw
Ful of vennom and rank poyson atanys,
Quhilk infekkis the flesch, blude, and banys.
And tharwith eik sa horribilly schowtis he,
His cryis dynnyt to the sternys on hie;
Lyke as a bull doith rummysing and rayr,
Quhen he eschapis hurt from the altair,
And charris by the ax with his nek wight,
Gif on his forhed the dynt hyttis nocht rycht.
Syne thir twa serpentis hastely glaid away;
Onto the cheif tempil fled ar thai,
Of stern Pallas to the hallowit place,
And crap in vnder the feit of the goddes,
Hyd thame behynd the boys of hir bukleir.
Than trymlit thar mony stowt hart for feir,
The onkowth dreid into thar brestis crap:
All said, Laocon justly, sik was his hap,
Has deir ybocht his wikkit and schrewit deid,
For he the haly hors or stalwart steid
With violent strake presumyt forto deir,
And tharintil to fessyn his cursit speir.
Onto the hallowit sted bryng in, thai cry,
The gret fygur, and lat ws sacryfy
The haly goddes, and magnyfy hyr mycht
With orysonys and offerandis day and nycht.
Quhat wil ȝe mair? the barmkyn down we rent,
And wallis of our cite we maid patent;
Onto that wark al sped thame bissely;
Turnand quhelis thai set in, by and by,
Vndir the feit of this ilke bysnyng jaip;
Abowt the nek knyt mony bassyn raip:
This fatale monstre clam our the wallis then,
Gret wamyt, and stuffit ful of armyt men;
And tharabout ran childer and madis ȝyng,
Syngand karrellis and dansand in a ryng;
Ful weil war thame, and glaid was euery wight,
That with thar hand anys twich the cordis mycht.
Furth drawyn haldis this suttell hors of tre,
And mannysand slydis throu the myd cite.
O natyve cuntre, and rial realm of Troy!
O goddis hows Ilion ful of joy!
O worthy Troiane wallis chevalrus!
Four tymys stoppyt that monstre peralus,
Evin at the entre of the portis wyde,
And four sys the armour, that ilk tyde,
Clynkit and rang amyd the large belly;
Bot netheles, intil our blynd fury,
Forȝetting this, instantly we wirk,
And forto drug and draw wald neuer irk,
Quhil that myschancy monstre, quently bet,
Amyd the hallowit tempill vp was set.
Cassandra than the fatis to cum tald plane,
Bot, by command of Phebus, al was in vane;
For thocht scho spayit the suthe, and maid na bowrd,
Quhat euer scho said Troianys trowit nocht a word.
The tempillis of goddis and sanctuaryis all,
We fey pepill, allace! quhat say I sall?
Quhamtill this was the duylfull lattir day,
With festuale flowris and bewys, as in May,
Dyd weil anorn, and fest and ryot maid
Throu owt the town, and for myscheif was glaid.