University of Virginia Library

In the meyn tyme, as weriour vnder scheild,
Turnus ȝond at the far part of the feld
A few menȝe persewand our the plane,
Quhilk at the stragill fled in all thar mayn,
Sum deill or than walxis dolf this syre,
Seand his horssis begyn to sowpe and tyre;
That euer the less and less ioyus was he
Of thar renkis and gait throu the melle.
Tharwith the wynd and sowchquhyng of the air
This feirfull clamour brocht to hym rycht thar,
Mixt with oncertane terrour and affeir;
The confusioun of sovnd smait in his eyr,
Com from the cyte, of fellon murmuryng,
Rycht onglaid bruyt of cayr and womentyng.
“Ha, ways me!” he said, “quhat may this be?
Quhou beyn the wallys trublit of this cite
With so gret duyll and sorrow as I heir?
Or quhou thus ruschis so fellon noyss and beir
And clamour from the tovn at euery part?”
Thus hass he said, and can do stynt his cart,
And all enragit tyt the renȝeis abak;
Quhamto his sistir tho Iuturna spak
(As scho that was turnyt, as I said air,
In semlant of Metiscus the cartar,
That horssis, renȝeis, sydrapis and cart dyd sche
Rewle and direct amydwart the melle),
With sic wordis scho ansueris hym fute hait:
“Turnus, lat ws persew Troianys this gait,
Quhar victory ws schawis the reddy way;
Thar beyn enew otheris, be my fay,
Forto defend and weill manteym the tovn.
Ȝon is Eneas makis the brute and sovn,
That can invaid Italianys, as ȝe heir,
Mydlit in batale on sik feir of weir.
Tharfor lat ws with cruell hand in this sted
Lay als feill corpsis of the Troianys ded;
For with na less numbir slane vnder scheild,
Nor less honour, sall thou wend of the feild.”
Turnus answeris: “O thou my sistyr deir,
I knew full weill at it was thou, langer,
That be thi craft and quent wylis sa sle
Our confideratioun trublit and trete,
And entrit in this batell quhilk thou wrocht:
And now, goddes, thy wylis ar all for nocht.
Bot quha was that send the from hevyn so scheyn,
So huge sturt and travell to susteyn?
Quhidder gif thou com to that entent to se
The cruell deth of thy fey brother?” said he.
“Quhat sall I do, lat se, quhar sall I now?
Or quhat succurss promittis fortoun, and quhou?
I saw my self befor myn eyn langeir
Gret Murranus, quham nane mair leif and deir
Onto me was that levand is this day,
Swelt on the grund, and with lowd voce, perfay,
On me dyd call, quhar as he lay onsound
At erth discomfyt with ane grisly wond:
And lo, doun bet and slane in hys defens
Is not alsso the stowt capitane Vfens,
That he suld not our lak and schame behald?
Hys corps and armour doys Troianys baith withhald.
Sall I als suffir thame doun the cyte dyng?
Of our myscheif thar restis bot that a thing.
Nor sall I not with this rycht hand inhy
Confund Schir Drancis langage onworthy?
Sall evir this grund behald or se sik lak,
That I sall fle, or Turnus gif the bak?
Is it all owt sa wrachit thing to de,
That, or thai stervyn, men suld rathar fle?
Ȝhe Manes, clepit goddis infernal,
Beis to me frendly now, sen that all
The goddis myndis abuf ar me contrar;
Be ȝhe benevolent quhen that I cum thar.
Ane haly saule to ȝou discend sall I,
Saikless of all sic cryme or villany,
Na wyss onworthy namyt fortobe
With my eldris and forfaderis mast hie.”
Scars hess he said, quhen, lo, throu the plane
Ruschand amyd hys fays, com hym agane
Ane Sages, montit on a fomy steid
(And he was wondit sair, and gan to bleid,
In the face with ane arrow vnder the e),
Cryand, “Help, Turnus, be his name, quhar is he?
Turnus,” quod he, “in the and thy twa handis
The extreme help and lattir weilfar standis:
Haue reuth and piete of thyne awin menȝe.
Now, as the thundris blast, faris Enee
In bargane, so enragit he doith mannayss
The cheif cyte of Italy doun to arrayss,
And into fynal ruyne to bet doun
The principall palyce and all the ryall tovn;
And now onto the thak and ruffis hie
The flambys and the fyre blesys doys fle.
In the thar wltys, in the thar eyn, but faill,
The Latyn pepill dressyt hess alhaill:
The kyng hym self Latinus, the gret heir,
Quhispyris and musys, and is in maner feir
Quham he sal cheiss or call, into this thraw,
Tobe hys douchteris spouss, and son in law,
Or to quhat frendschip or allyans fyne
Is best hym selwyn at this tyme inclyne.
And forthirmor, Amata the fair queyn,
Quhilk at all tymys thyne afald frend hass bene,
With hir awyn hand doith sterve, now liggand law,
And for affray hir self hess brocht of daw.
Only Mesapus and Atynas keyn
At the portis doys the stour susteyn:
Abowt thir twa on athir syde thik standis,
Arrayt rowtis, with drawyn swerdis in handis,
Full horribill and austern athir barnage,
Cled in steill weid with wapynnys, man and page;
And thou, thus rollyng furth thy cart bedene,
Walkis at avantage on the void grene.”
Turnus astonyst stude dum in studeyng,
Smyt with the ymage of mony diuerss thyng:
Deip in hys hart boldynnys the felloun schame,
All mixt with dolour, angyr and defame;
Syne fervent luf hym catchit in fury rage,
And hys bykend hardyment and curage.
As first the schaddois of pertrublans
Was dryve away, and hys rememberans
The lycht of resson hass recoverit agane,
The byrnand sycht of baith his eyn twane,
Sor aggrevit, towart the wallis he kest,
And from hys cart blent to the cyte prest.
Bot lo, a sworll of fyre blesys vpthraw!
Lemand towart the lyft the flambe he saw,
Amang the plankis and the loftis schire
Stremand and kyndland fast the hoyt fyre,
That caucht was in a mekill towr of tre,
Quhilk towr of sillys and gestis gret belt he,
And thar vnder, to roll it, quhelis set,
With staris hie and batelling weirly bet.
“Now, now, systir,” quod he, “lo, all and sum
The fatis hass vss venquyst and ourcum:
Desist tharfor to mak me langar tary;
Lat ws follow that way, and thiddir cary,
Quhar God and this hard fortoun callys me.
Now standis the poynt, I am determyt,” quod he,
“Eneas hand for hand fortill assaill;
Now standis the poynt, to suffir in bataill
The bittir ded and all paynfull distress.
Na langar, sistir germane, as I gess,
Sall thou me se schamefull onworthy wight.
Bot, I beseik the, manly as a knycht
Into this fervent furour suffir me
To go enragit to batale, or I de.”
Thus hass he said, and from the cart inhy
Apon the land he lap deliuerly,
And left his sistir trist and dissolate;
Thrist throu hys fays and wapynnys all, fute hait,
And with sa swift fard schot throu the melle
That the myd rowtis and wardis schuddris he.
And like as the gret roch crag with a sovn
From the top of sum montan tumlyt doun,
Quhen at it is our smyt with wyndis blast,
Or with the drumly schowris spait doun cast,
Or than be lang process of mony ȝheris
Lowsyng tharfra the erd, and away weris,
Is maid to fall and tumbill with all his swecht,
Lyke till a wikkit hill of huge weght,
Halding his fard the discens of the bra
With mony skyp and stend baith to and fra,
Quhill that he schut far on the plane grund,
And all that he ourrekis doith confund;
Woddis, heyrdis, flokkis, catale and men
Our welterand with hym in the deip glen—
Towart the wallys Turnus ruschit als fast
Throw owt the rowtis, by hys fard doun cast,
Quhar tho the grund wet and bedyit stude
A weill far way with effusioun of blude,
And large on breid the skyis and the ayr
For schaftis schot dyd quhissilling heir and thar:
A bekyn with hys hand to thame maid he,
And sammyn eik with lowd voce cryis: “Lat be!
Stynt, ȝe Rutilianys, se ȝhe feght na mair,
And, ȝhe Latynys, ȝour dartys castyng spar;
Quhou evir the forton standis at this tyde,
The chance is myne, the fait I mon abyde.
It is mair iust and equale I allane
For ȝou sustene the payn was ondertane,
And purge the cryme, so happynnyt now of lait,
Of this confideratioun violate:
Lat me stand to my chans, I tak on hand
Forto derene the mater with this brand.”
Than euery man amydward thame betwene
Can draw abak, and maid rovm on the greyn.