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Than Fame with this, alsfast as scho mycht spryng,
As messynger of sa gret womentyng,
Flaw furth, and all with murnyng fillys sche
Evander kyng hys palyce and cyte,
Quhilk layt tofor had schawyn that Pallas
In Latyum landis sa victoryus was;
Now says sche, “Lo, is he brocht on beir!”
The Archadis ruschit to the portis in feir,
And euery wyght in handis hynt als tyte
Ane hait fyre broynd, efter the ald ryte,
In lang ordour and rabill, that all the stretis
Of schynand flambys lemys brycht and gletis,
Quhil all the large feildis of the light
Myght seueraly be raknyt at a sight.
The Troiane rowtis, on the tother hand,
With thame adionys thar folkis sair wepand,
Quham as the matronys beheld on sik wyss
So duylfully wend to the kyngis palys,
The dolorus town in euery streit and way
With petuus scrykis and gowlyng fyllit thai.
Than was na fors Evander mycht refreyn,
Bot in amyddis thame with gret disdene
He ruschis, plenand on wofull maner,
And fell on growf abuf ded Pallas beir,
Wepand and waland as his hart wald breke;
Embrasyt hym, bot no word mycht he spek
And scars at last with gret difficulte
The cundytis of his voce war lowsyt fre.
Quhen he mycht speke, than thir hys wordis was:
“This is nocht thy last cunnand, son Pallas,
Thou promyst not so vnto thy fader deir,
Bot at thou suld pass mair warly in weir,
And not in danger of the cruell Mart.
Owr weill I wist, with harmys at my hart,
Quhat aventour, and of quhou mekill mycht
Till ony ȝong man, the first feld in fight,
Was gret desire of new loif or glory,
And how sweit was renown of chevalry.
Allace, the first commancement and assays
To ȝyng men beyn in weir full fey always,
And rycht hard bene the first entechment
Of hasty batall to thame beyn not acquent.
My vowys nor my prayeris gret and small
War not accept to nane of goddis all.
O thou my blissyt spowss, decessit or now,
Full happy of that ded in faith was thou,
That to thys sorow not preservyt was!
Bot be the contrar I, allace, allace,
Ourlevit hass my fatys profitabill,
And am alyve as fader miserabill;
Quham wald God in ȝon sammyn mortale weris
Rutilyanys had ourquhelmyt with thar speris,
That, followand to the feild my feris of Troy,
I mycht haue ȝald this sawle full of ennoy,
So that this funeral pomp, quhilk heir is wrocht,
My body, and nocht Pallas, hame had brocht!
Ne byd I nocht ȝou, Troianys, to argew
Of amyte and allyance bund of new,
Ne our rycht handis and promyss, quhilkis we
In frendschip knyt and hospitalyte:
This mysfortoun is myne of ald thirlage,
As tharto detbund in my wrachit age.
Bot had this hasty ded, sa ondigest,
Haue sufferit bot my son a stound to lest,
Quhill of Rutilianys he had slane thousandis,
And investit the Troianys in thar landis,
That is to say, in Latyum or Lavyn,
Weill lykyt me that he had endyt syne.
And forthir eik, Pallas, my son so deir,
Na mair rychly cowth I the lay on beir,
Nor with mair wirschip list me entyre the,
Than is providit be reuthfull Enee,
Be myghty Troianys and pryncis Tyrrheyn;
For all the Tuscane menȝe, as heir is seyn,
Gret trophe and rich spulȝe hydder bryngis,
On perkis rychly cled with thar armyngis
Quham thy richt hand in feild had put to ded.
Bot, O thou Turnus, in this sammyn sted
Amangis otheris heir suld thou haue be,
In form and maner of a stok of tre,
Gyf ȝhe of age had beyn equale and perys,
And baith elyke cummyn to ȝour strenthy ȝheris.
Bot now, allace, I, fey onhappy wight,
Quharto delay I Troianys from the fyght?
Pass haym in haist, and remember to say
Thir my desiris to ȝour prynce, I ȝou pray:
Evander says that thy ryght hand, Ene,
Is all the cawss that he delays to de,
Or that this haitsum lyfe sustene he wald,
Sen now is lost hys son Pallas the bald:
Sa till hym that he oblist is of det,
Baith to the son and the fader, to set
Ȝon Turnus slauchter for owr recompens:
To the Eneas only, but offens,
And to fortoun, remanys this iournay ȝit,
Quharwith thou may thankfully be acquyt.
Tell hym, na lust to lyf langar seyk I;
Onlesum war syk plesour I set by;
Bot for a thraw desyre I to lest heir,
Turnus slauchter and deth with me to beir,
As glaid tithandis onto my child and barn,
Amang the gostis law in skowgis dern.”