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Quhat sorow dreys Queyn Dydo all the nycht,
And how Mercur bad Ene tak the flycht.
The nycht followys, and euery wery wight
Throu owt the erth hath caucht, onon rycht,
The sownd plesand sleip thame lykit best.
Woddis and rageand seys war at rest;
As the starnys thar myd courss rollys doun,
All feildis still, but othir noyss or sown,
All beistis and byrdis of diuerss cullouris seir,
And quhatsumeuer in the braid lowys weir,
Or, amang buskis harsk, leyndis vndir the spray,
Throu nychtis sylence slepit quhar thai lay,
Mesyng thar bissy thocht and curis smart,
All irksum laubour forȝet and owt of hart.
Bot the onrestles fey spreit dyd not so
Of this onhappy Phenyssane Dydo,
For neuer mair may scho sleip a wynk,
Nor nychtis rest in eyn or breist lat synk.
The hevy thochtis multipleis euer on ane;
Strang luf begynnys to rage and ryss agane
And fellon stormys of ire gan hir to schaik.
Thus fynaly scho owt bradis, allaik!
Rollyng alane seir thyngis in hir thocht:
“Ha! quhat do I?” quod scho, “all is for nocht.

184

Sall I thus mokkit, and to hething dryve,
My fyrst luffaris agane assay belyve?
Or sal I lawly sum lord Numydane
Pray and beseik of mariage now agane,
Quhom I sa oft lychtlyit to spowss or this?
Na, wyll I not! Quhat, sal I than, I wyss,
Follow the Troiane navy in strange landis,
And reddely obey al thar commandis?
I hope it sal profyte, na litill thyng,
My gret help done thame and suppowellyng;
For amang kynd folkis this is na dreid,
Weil is remembrit the ald thankful deid.
Bot thocht in cace to do this war my will,
Quha wald me suffir my purposs to fulfyll,
Or in thar prowd schippis me ressaue?
Thus drevyn to hethyng, and al thi grace bywave,
Tynt woman, allace! baris thou not ȝyt in mynd
The maynsweryng of fals Laomedonis kynd?
And maratour, quhat ettill I for todo?
A queyn alane to steil away thus, lo!
Accumpanyit bot with mery maryneris?
Or than with all my Tyrianys, as efferis,
And all my power assemblit me about,
On schipburd entyr with al that huge rowt
Quhilk furth of Sydon scarsly draw I mycht,
Sal I thame cach agane our seys lycht?
Byd thame mak saill onon, and a new rayss?
Na, rather de, as thou deservyt hass,
And with a swerd mak of this duyl ane end.
O systir germane, thou me fyrst taucht and kend,
Allace the quhile! and offerit me to my fo;
Thou with thir harmys ourchargit me alsso,
Quhen I fell fyrst into this rage,” quod sche,
“Bot so to do my teris constrenyt the.
Was it not lefull, allace! but cumpany,
To me but cryme in chawmyr alane to ly,
Or led my lyfe lyke to thir beistis wild,
And not beyn thus with thocht nor harmys fild?

185

Allace! onkepit is the trew cunnand
Hecht to Sycheus assys, my first husband.”
Syk gret complayntis from hir breist bryst kan.
Bot Eneas, sovir to depart or than,
And al hys neidful thyngis grathit, by and by,
Heich in hys eft schyp sownd slepand kan ly;
Quhamto in visioun the sam god dyd appeir,
In syklyke figur as that he dyd eyr,
Onto Mercuryus lyke, in al fasson,
Baith cullour of vissage and of vocis sown,
In form of a ȝongker with membris fair,
Plesand of cheir, and ȝallow glitterand hair.
Hym thocht agane he monyst on this wyss:
“Son of the goddes, quhou is this heir thou lyis?
Quhat, may thou vndir sa gret danger sleip,
And al forvayit takis nothir cuyr nor keyp
For tobehald quhat perrellys about the standis
Nor harknys the fair wynd blawys of landis?
Scho quham thou knawys, within hir breist ful hait
Sorowfull vengeans compasis and dissait,
And certanly determyt forto de,
In diuerss stowris of ire brandysys sche.
Quhy wilt thou not fle spedely be nycht,
Quhen forto haist thou hess laser and mycht?
Thou salt, onon, behald the seys large
All ombeset with toppyt schyp and barge.
The feirful brandis and blesys of hait fyre,
Reddy to byrn thi schippys, lemand schyre,
And al the cost belyve of flambys scald,
Gyf, quhil to morow, tary in this land thou wald.
Haue done, speid hand, and mak na mair delay,
Variabill and changeand thyngis beyn wemen ay.”
And sayand this, into the dyrk nyght
He gan hym hyde, and vanyst out of sycht.
Eneas, of this hasty visioun affrayit,
Gan start on fut, and fast his feris assayit:
“Awalk onon, get vp, my men, inhy,
Tyte to ȝour wardis, span aris bissely,

186

Schaik down the salys sone and lat ws wend.
From the hie hevyn the god agane is send,
Lo! spurrand ws to haist and fle away,
And byddis smyte the twyne cabyll in tway.
O blissyt wyght! quhat god at evir thou be,
We sal obey thi charge and follow the,
And thy command fulfyll agane blithly,
Besekyng the assist to ws frendly
Help and support, with prospir influens
The hevyn and starris dress our vayage hens.”
And with that word, hys scherand sword als tyte
Hynt owt of scheith, the cabil in twa gan smyte.
The sam maner of haist caucht al the lave;
Thai hurl away, ankyrris vphynt and rave,
Left the costis desert on athir sydis.
The stabil sey vndir the schippis slydis;
The stour of fame vpwelt thai egyrly,
And swepis our the haw fludis inhy.
 

C marginal note lochis.