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Tho nane incertane rumour nor demyng,
Bot sovyr boydword cam thar, and warnyng,
Ontill Eneas of this gret myschance,
Schawand quhou that his folkis stud in ballance,
As bot in litill distans all from ded;
The tyme requiryt forto set remeid,
And succur Troianys quhilkis had tane the flycht.
Than, as wod lyon, ruschit he in the fight,
And all quham he arekis nerrest hand
Without reskew dovn mawis with his brand;
The bytand blaid abowt hym inveroum
Amyd the rowtis reddis large rovm.
Enragit and inflambit thus in ire
Throw owt the ostis Turnus, that prowd syre,
Quhilk had this new slauchtir maid, socht he,
Ay prentand in his mynd befor hys e
The gudly Pallas, was sa stowt and ȝyng,
And the gret gentryce of Evander kyng,
The cheir and fest hym maid bot a stranger,
Per ordour all thing, quhou and quhat maner
He was ressauyt and tretit thankfully,
Syne of hys band of frendschip and ally
With athis sworn and interchangit handis,
Remembryng tho his promyss and cunnandis.
Amovit in this heit, or euer he stynt,
Four ȝong men quyk he hess in handis hynt,
That born was of the cite hecht Sulmon;
Alsmony syne he takyn hass onon
Bred and vpbrocht besyde the flude Vfens,
Quham that he etlys forto send from thens
To Pallas lykewalkis and obsequeis,
To strow his funeral fyre of byrnand treis,
As was the gyss, with blude of presoneris,
Eftir the ald rytis into mortale weris.
Syne hynt Eneas a perellus lance in hand,
And it addressis far furth on the land
To ane Magus, that subtell was and sle,
And iowkit in vnder the speir hass he;
The schaft schakand flaw furth abufe hys hed;
And he Eneas in that sammyn sted
Abowt the kneis grippyt humylly,
With petuus voce syne thus begouth to cry:
“By thy deir faderys gost I the beseik,
And be that gud beleif quhilk thou hass eik
Of Ascanyvs vprysyng to estait,
Thys silly sawle of myne, sa faynt and mayt,
Thow salf to my a son and fader deir.
I haue a howss, rych, full of mobillis seir,
Quharin bedelvyn lyis a gret talent,
Or charge of fyne siluer, in veschell quent
Forgyt and punsyt wonder craftely;
Ane huge weght of fynast gold tharby,
Oncunȝeit ȝit, ne nevir put in wark:
Sa thou me salf, thy pyssans is so stark,
The Troianys glory nor thar victory
Sall na thyng change nor dymynew tharby,
Nor a puyr sawle, thus hyngand in ballance,
May sik diuisioun mak nor discrepans.”
Thus said this silly Magus, all invane,
Quhamtill Eneas answeris thus agane:
“Tha mony talentis of fyne siluyr and gold,
Quhilkis thou rehersand heir befor hess told,
Do kepe onto thi small childyr and ayris;
Lat thame bruke weill, I consent it be tharis.
All interchange and ransonyng, perfay,
In this batale Turnus hess done away,
Now laitly slayand ȝong Pallas, allace!
That rewthfull harm, and that myschews cace,
Felys baith Ascanyus and my faderis gost,
For thai na litill thyng tharby hess lost.”
Thus sayand, by the helm hym grippys he
With hys left hand, and fast as he mycht dre
Writh down hys nek, quharin, but mair abaid,
Hys bludy brand vp to the hyltis slaid.
Not far thens stude Hemonydes allane,
Prest onto Phebus and the thrynfald Dyane,
On quhais hed wympillit holy garlandis
With thar pendentis lyke to a mytyr standis,
Hys habyt as the scheyn son lemand lycht,
And all hys armour quhite and burnyst brycht;
Quham Eneas assalyt myghtyly,
And gan to chayss owt throw the feld in hy,
That fleand stummyrryt and to grond went sone;
The Troiane prynce down lowtis hym abone,
And with hys brand hym brytnys at devyss,
In maner of ane offerand sacryfyss.
The large schaddow of Eneas in feild
Dyd haill the ded corps of this preist ourheld.
Serestus sortis vp hys armour gay,
And on hys schuldris careit hess away,
To hyng as trophe or syng victoriall
Tyll Mars the god, quhilk Gradyus is call.