University of Virginia Library

Quhen Turnus knew the Latyn pepill haill
Irk of the weir, and saw thar curage faill,
By the frawart aduersiteis of Mart,
Quhilk war tofor onbrokyn and stowt of hart,
And thocht the tyme requiris hym, but abaid,
Forto compleit the promys he had maid,
Semyng as towartis hym tho euery wight
To that effect addressyt thar luke and sycht,
Than, onrequirit, by insaciabill desyre
Langang to feght, and byrnand hait as fyre,
Full hie rasand hys curage and hys cheir,
He gan amyd the audiens appeir.
Fers as a wild lyoun ȝond in Trace,
By the huntar wondyt in the chace,
Quhen the smert straik in hys breist all fast is,
For ire the lokkyrris of hys nek vpcastis,
Than first begynnyng to rayss hys stern moyd,
Reiosyt of the bataill, fers and wod,
Onabasytly raschand the schaft in sundir,
And on the man liggand at wait thar vndir,
Hym to revenge, with bludy mouth doys bray—
Nane other wyss ferd Turnus the ilk day,
Smytyn so brym in fervent violens,
That all commouyt in the kyngis presens
On this maner begouth to speke and say:
“Thar sall in Turnus be fund na delay;
And al for nocht ȝon cowart Eneadanys
Thar promyss and thar wordis cumis aganys,
Willyng retreit thar behestis and sawys;
Sa salt thai nocht; we wil nane sik lawys:
I sal thar falshed resist and ganestand,
And feght contrar thar chiftane hand for hand.
Thou ryall prynce and fader, Kyng Latyne,
Do sacryfy and conferm this convyne:
For owdyr sall I with thir handis twa
Ȝon ilk Troiane, banyst of Asya,
Do put to deth, send down to hell,” quod he,
“Lat Latyn pepill syttyng by to se
Quhou, myne allane with swerd in thar presens
I sall revenge and end our allyris offens;
Or than, gyf so betyd he wyn the gre,
Lat ws all venquyst to hym subiect be,
Ȝeld hym the crown enduryng term of lyve,
And lat hym ioys Lavinia to hys wyfe.”
Kyng Latyn tho with sad and degest mynd
To hym answeris, and said apon this kynd:
“O douchty ȝyngkeir, excellent of curage,
Quhou far as by thy forcy vassallage
My febill age thou doith exceid,” quod he,
“Als far mair diligently pertenys me,
And ganand is, to consell and provyde,
And exemyn euery chance may betyde,
As I that hass in part a maner feir,
Be lang experiens knawand the dowtis of weir.
Thow weldis Dawnus thy faderis realm and land,
And feil citeis conquest with thyne awyn hand;
Tharto thou hass alsso a gentill hart,
Liberall and fre, and in weir most expert,
And Kyng Latyn hess gold to geif the eik.
Perfay, enew otheris, not far to seik,
Of madynnys beyn onwed in Latyum wyde,
And in the Lawrent feildis heir besyde,
Of blude and frendschip na thyng myssemand,
Bot worthy to be queyn of ony land.
Thoill me, I pray the, al dissait done away,
Thir wordis quhoyn of weght to the till say,
And sammyn prent thir sawys in thy wyt.
Onlesum is I suld in wedlok knyt
My douchtir till ald wowaris of this land,
That hir tofor had axit in sik band:
All the spa men and goddis revelyng
Declarit plane that was onlesum thyng.
And netheless, I, venquyst cleyn but weir,
For luf of the my spowsys cousyng deir,
Ourcummyn be hir wofull terys and syte,
All maner bandys now hess brokyn quyte;
And fra my son in law, full wrangwisly,
Hys spouss onto hym promyst reft haue I,
And forthir on hym movit a wikkyt weir.
Sen syne in quhate chance I stand and danger,
And quhou fers batellis now persewys me,
Full weill thou wait and seis, Turnus,” quod he,
“And quhou huge travale thou has tholit and pane,
As principall maste douchty capitane.
Lo, twyss in batale venquyst haue we be,
And now scantly within our wallit cite
The hope and weill of Italy defendis;
Now of our recent blude, as noterly kend is,
The flude of Tibir walxis hait agane,
And of our huge banys quhite semys the plane.
Quhou am I sterit thus in purposs seir?
And quhidder flow I thus oft thar and heir?
Quhat mad foly all tochangis my thocht?
Gyf that I reddy be and dowtit nocht
The Troianys for my frendis to ressaue,
Gif so war Turnus ded war and bygrave,
Quhat, aucht I nocht far rather end the weir
He beand in prosperyte haill and feir?
Quhat wald our cosyngis, the Rutilianys,
Or quhat wald say the other Italianys,
Gyf the I suld thus wyss sa wilfully,
Axyng our douchteris wedlok and ally,
Expone or offer to the ded?” quod he.
“Forton defend that chance at sa suld be!
Behald the chance of batale variabill,
Persave of weir the fykkill ward onstabill:
Haue reuth and mercy of thy fader ald,
Quham Ardea now, hys cuntre, doys withhald,
Diuidit far and disseuerit from the,
And for thy saik quhou wobegone is he.”
Thus said the kyng, bot the violent curage
Of Turnus hie mynd bowit neuer a stage;
Quha wald with cuyr of medycyne hym meyss,
The moir encressys and growys hys mail eyss;
And, eftir that he first mycht speke agane,
Thus he began expreym with wordis plane:
“O thou maist souerane fader, I the pray,
To salue my honour, thou wald do away
Thir curis, thochtis and solicitude
For me thou takis; and, schortly to conclude,
Suffir me forto plege my deth in wage,
For gloryus renovn of vassillage;
For we, fader, can swak dartis and brandis,
Nocht with febill bot stalwart rycht handis,
And of our wondis the red blude ruschis owt.
To ȝonder provd Troiane, clepit sa stowt,
Hys moder at this tyme salbe far to seik,
Quhilk goddes with hir subtell slychtis eik
Hir son, accustumat to tak the flycht,
Was wont to dek, and to hyde owt of sycht
Within a wifly clowd, as for a trayn,
And heild hir self alsso in schaddois vayn.”