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The queyn Iuno than, but mair abayd,
Prykkyt with felloun fury thus furthbrayd:
“Quhy doys thou,” said sche, “to me sik offens,
Constrenyng me brek closs profund sylens,
And with thy wordis, quhar ayr I was koy,
Prouokis to publyss and schaw myne hyd ennoy?
Quhat maner man, or quhilk of goddis, lat se,
To move batale constrenyt hess Ene,
Or to engyre hym self to Latyn kyng
As mortal fa, within hys proper ryng?
I geif the cace, to Italy socht he
Of the fatys by the autoryte,
Provokyt tharto be the wyld dotage
Of wod Cassandra in hir fury rage.
Lat se, for all this, gyf that anys in sport
To leif hys strenthis we dyd hym exhort,
Or forto put hys lyfe in ony danger,
To sayll, or submyt hym to wyndis seir?
Lat se, gyf we hym causyt to walk at large,
And till ane bab commyt the batellys charge,
And governance haill of hys cite wallys?
Lat se gyf we, how evir the chance befallys,
Persuadyt hym forto commove and steir
Other quyet pepill with hym to rayss the weir,
Or till adione vp frendschip and ally
With Tyrrhene pepill and folk of Tuscany?
Quhat god amovit hym with sic a gawd
In hys dedis to oyss sik slyght and frawd,
Or quhilk of our hard poweris wrocht sic thyng?
Quhar was Iuno with all, this lady ȝyng?
Or quhar was sche also quhen, ȝistir nycht,
Irys was send down throu the clowdis brycht?
Is this a thing ful onlesum, but let,
Thocht Italianys with flambys ombeset
The new cite of Troy vprysand, lo?
And is it not full gret dispyt also
That, in hys natyve land and faderis ryng,
Turnus remane, or pretend tobe kyng,
Quhamto the god Pylumnus grandschir is,
And haly nymphe Venylia moder, I wyss?
Quhat, thinkis thou lesum is at Troianys infeir
Violens to mak with brandis of mortall weir
Agane Latynys, syk onkouth heritage
Tyll occupy and subdew in bondage,
And thar catale in spreth to dryve away?
Quhat, haldis thou lesum als, I pray the say,
From otheris to withdraw sa thyftuusly
Thar eldfaderis and maist tendyr ally,
Or, from betwix thar breist and armys tway,
Thar treutht plyght spowsys forto reif away?
Tocum and beseik trewys in strange landis,
With syng or takyn of paix born in thar handis;
And netheless, to mak reddy for weir,
Purvay thar schippis, provide armour and geir?
To salf Ene, hess thou not power and mycht
From Grekis handis hym to withdraw be slycht,
And set in sted of that man, light as lynd,
Owder a clowd or a waist puft of wynd?
And eik thou may transform the schippis,” quod sche,
“Intil alsmony goddessis of the see.
Bot, be the contrary, Rutilyanys ofspryng
We suld support, that is forbodyn thyng!
Thy son Ene, mysknawyng this deray,
As thou allegis, is absent now away:
And quhat iniurys, absent mot he remane,
And ignorant for ay of this bargane?
Thow hass Paphos, thyne is Idalia,
And thyne mot be the ile of Cithera.
Sen thou hess all thir at command and will,
Lat other folkis in paix and rest dwell styll.
Quharto assalȝeis thou a strang cite,
That hess bene oft exercyt in melle,
And lyst invaid pepill with hartis kene?
I can not fynd quhat occasioun ȝe meyn.
Haue we etlyt the Phrigyane febill geir
Down from the grund to welt our into weir?
Quhidder was it we, or than Parys, that faltyt,
That wrachit Troianys by Grekis war assaltit?
Quhat was the causs that Europ and Asya
To rayss the weir in armys war sa thra
Aganyst otheris, and thar auld allyans
With thiftuus reif to brek on sic myschans?
Was I not governour and cheif ledar thar,
The tyme quhen that the Troiane adulterar
Ombesegyt the cite of Spartha,
And the queyn Heleyn reft and brocht awa?
Or quhidder gif I evir into that weir
Mynysterit dartis, wapynnys or sic geir?
Or ȝit that bargane stuffyt or bet, lat se,
With Cupydis blynd lust and subtilite?
Than had bene honest tyme, and ganand baith,
Till haue previdit for thy frendis skaith.
Now, al to layt, with thyne iniust complantis
Aganyst ws thou rysis, and attantis
Forto warp owt thy vane wordis chydyng,
Quhilk certis may avale the in na thing.”
With siclyke wordis Iuno fra end to end
Gan hir querrell sustene and als defend,
And all the hevynly wightis dyd quhyspir and rown,
In opynyonys full diuerss, vp and down—
Lyke as first, or wyndis blast be persave,
The swouch is hard within the woddis waif,
With frasyng soundis quhisland, ȝit onknaw
Quharof cumis this bruyt owt throw the schaw,
All thocht it be to maryneris a syng,
Of wyndis blast to follow sur taknyng.
The fader than omnipotent maist hie
That our all thingis hess souerane maieste,
Begouth to say, and quhen he spak, all cessyt,
The hevynly heich howss of goddis was pecyt,
The erthis grund schuke trymlyng for feir,
And still but movyng stud the hevynnys cleir,
The wyndis eik thar blastis lownyt sone,
The sey calmyt hys fludis playn abone.
“Ressaue,” quod he, “my sawis, and tak tent,
And thir my wordis within ȝour myndis enprent.
Sen that algatis ȝit may not sufferit be
Latynys confidir with Troianys and Ene,
Nor ȝe can nocht mak end of ȝour debait,
I sal me hald indifferent, the meyn gait,
And as for that, put na diuersyte
Quhiddir so Italianys or Troianys thai be;
Quhow evir this day the fortoun with thame standis,
Bruke weill thar chance and werd on athir handis,
Lat ich of thame hys hoip and forton sew:
Quhidder so the fatys hess determyt of new
Troianys to be assegit with Italianys
To thar myscheif, or wraik of the Troianys,
Quhilkis with frawart admonytions sa lang
Peraventour hess errit and gane wrang—
Nowder Troianys nor Rutilianys freith will I.
Lat athir of thame thar awin fortoun stand by,
And bruke thar wark thai haue begun; but faill,
Kyng Iupiter salbe to all equale.
The fatis sal provyd a way mair habill.”
And with that word, fortill hald ferm and stabill
Hys godly aith and promys, sworn hess he
Be Stix the flude, Pluto hys broderis see,
Be that ilk pykky layk with brays blak,
And laithly golf, to kepe all that he spak,
And, til afferm hys aith, at hys lykyng
The hevynnys all maid trymbill, for a syng.
Thus endit was the consale, and al doyn,
And Iupiter rayss fra hys goldyn troyn,
Quham hevynly wightis amyddis thame with ioy
Ontill hys chymmys ryall dyd convoy.