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Quhou that Venus ontill Eneas brocht
The godly armour be Wlcanus wrocht.
Thar growys a gret schaw, neir the chil ryver
Quhilk that flowys with hys frosty stremys cleir
Down by the cite of Agillyna,
That other wyss is clepyt Cereta,
Quhilk is in wirschip haldyn and in dreid
By faderis ald, the large boundis onbreid,
As sanctuar; and with deip clewchis wyde
Thys schaw is closyt apon euery syde—

159

Ane thyk ayk wod of skowgy fyrris stowt
Belappys all the said cuthill abowt.
The fame is that the Grekis ancyane,
Quhilk clepyt bene to surname Pelasgane,
That quhilum lang tyme in the formast eildis
The Latyn boundis occupeyt and feildis,
To Syluanus fyrst dedicat this schaw,
The god of bestis and of feildis faw,
And constitut to hym solempnyt fest.
Duke Tharcon, and the Tuscanys maste and lest,
Not fer from thens, intyll a strenthy place
Thar palȝeonys all had plantyt apon cace,
That from the top of the hillys hyght,
The army all thai mycht se at a syght,
With tentis stentit strekand to the plane.
Thyddyr held Eneas, the souerane Troiane,
And all the bernys of hys ryall rowt
Chosyn for the batall, lusty, stern and stowt,
And, wery of thar travale, thocht thai best
Thar self and horssis to refresch and rest.
Bot than Venus, the fresch goddes, bedene
Amang the hevynly skyis brycht and schene,
Berand with hir the dyvyne armour cleir,
To mak tharof a presand, can draw neir,
And as on far hir son scho dyd behald,
Secret allone by the chill ryver cald,
Amyd ane holl cleuch, or a dern valle,
Of hir fre will tyll hym apperis sche,
And with sic wordis to hym spak, sayng:
“Lo, my reward heir, and my promysyng
Fulfillyt iustly by my husbandis wark;
So that, my son, now art thou sovyr and stark,
That the not nedis to haue ony feir
Fortill resist the prowd Latynnys in weir,
Nor ȝit the strang Turnus to assaill,
Hym to provok, or challance for batale.”
Thus said the scheyn Citherea fair of face,
And, with that word, can hyr deyr child enbrace,

160

And thar the schynand armour forgane his sycht
Vndre a bowand aik layd dovn full rycht.
Seand sic gyftis of this trast goddess,
This gentill knycht reiosyt wolx, I gess,
Glaid that so gret honour ressauyt he,
That scarsly kowth he satisfyit be
Forto behald thir armour bryght and schene;
On euery peyss to vissy kest hys eyn,
Tharon wondrand; betwix hys handis two
And byg armys thame turnys to and fro.
The grysly crystit helm he can behald
On feirfull wyss spowtand the fyre thik fald,
The fatale swerd, dedly to mony ane,
The styf hawbryk of steill yburnyst schane,
Of huge weght and bludy sangwyne hew,
That sic a glanss or variant cullour schew,
As quhen the byrnand sonnys bemys brycht
The watry clowd persand with hys lyght,
Schynand on far, forgane the skyis how
Schapys the figour of the quent rayn bowe.
The lyght legharnes on that other syde,
Witht gold and burnyst laton puryfyde,
Grathit and polyst weill he dyd aspy,
The speir, and eik the scheild so subtelly
Forgyt that it was ane ontellabill thyng.
For Vlcanus, of fyre the lord and kyng,
Knawand full weill the art of prophecy,
And syndry thingis tocum eik by and by,
The valȝeand dedis of Italyanys,
The gret triumphys als of the Romanys,
And of Ascanyus stok all nobil knyghtis,
Thar batalys all per ordour, weir and fyghtis,
Had tharin porturat properly and grave,
Amang all otheris, in Martis gresy cave
The sukkyn wolf furthstrekand breste and vdyr;
Abowt hir pappys, but feir, as thar moder,
The twa twynnys, smal men childer ȝyng,
Sportand ful tayt gan to wrabill and hyng;

161

And scho hir lang rovnd nek bane bowand raith
To geif thame sowke, and can thame culȝe baith,
Semyng scho suld thar bodeis by and by
Lyk with hir tong, and clenge full tenderly.
Not fer from thens Rome cite eikyt he,
Quhar by ane new inuentioun wonder sle,
Settand into ane holl valle or slak,
Within the lystis for the triumphe mak,
War Sabyne virgynys revyst by Romanys,
As that thai war assemblyt for the nanys
The gret gammys Circenses forto se,
Quhilk iustyng or than turnament cleip we.
With hasty sterage thar most thou behald
The werys rasyt aganys Romanys bald
By agyt Tatyus and fell Curitanys:
Syne the ilk princis, and the said Romanys,
The weris sessyt sammyn all infeir,
Enarmyt stad befor Iovys alter,
With cowpys full in hand for sacryfyss
Thar mycht thou se thame, efter the ald gyss,
The swyne stekit brytnyt sone and slane,
Conferm thar trewys and mak paix agane.