University of Virginia Library

In the meyn quhile tho gan Eneas hald
Sovirly hys courss throu the gray fludis cald,
Hys navy with north wynd scherand the seys.
Towart Cartage he gan behald, and seys
Be than the wallys lemand brycht and schyre
Of the onhappy Dydoys funeral fyre.
Quha had this gret fyre maid, and to quhat end,
Thai marvellyt, for the causys war onkend,
Bot by the sorofull takynnyng, not the less,
The Troianys in thar breistis tuke a gess
Quharfor it was, for weil wyst Eneas
In violait lufe quhat strenth of dolour was,
And knew alsso quhat thyngis mycht be controvyt
By women in fury rage that strangly luffyt.
Bot fra the schippys held the deyp see,
That now na mair sycht of the land thai se,
Salve hevyn abuse, and fludis all about,
A watry clowd, blak and dyrk but dout,
Gan our thar hedis tho appeir ful rycht,
And down a tempest sent als dyrk as nycht;
The streym wolx vgsum of the dym sky.
Palynurus, the maistir, gave a cry
From the eft castell heich, thar as he stude:
“Quharfor, allace! samony clowdis onrude,”
Quod he, “bylappyt hess the hevynnys, lo?
Fader Neptune, quhat etlys thou to do?”
This beyng said, commandis he euery feir
Do red thar takillis, and stand hard by thar geir,
And wightly als thar arys vp to hail;
Hym self infangis the le schete of the saill,
And eftir said: “Maist curageus Ene,
Althocht our helpar, gret Iove, wald hecht it me,
I traist not with this weddir to wyn Itale.
The wynd is contrar, brayand in our bak saill,
Hard in our berd vpblawand wondir sayr,
And al with bubbys ombesett is the ayr;
Nor we may nocht stryve nor inforss sa fast
Agane the storm, bot stowtar is the blast.
And sen that forton masteris ws, tharfor
Lat ws follow tharon, and ryn befor,
Quhiddyr that the wyndis callys ws set saill.
Not far hens, as that I beleif, sans faill,
The frendfull, brothirly costis of Erycyss
And sovir portis of Sycill beyn, I wyss,
Gif I remembir the methys of starnys weill.”
Tho quod reuthful Eneas, “So haue I seyll,
I saw langsyne the wyndis ettyll that way,
And the invayn agane thame stryve perfay.
Tyte turn ȝour salys and set thyddyr ȝour went;
Thar is na land mair lykand to myne entent,
Nor quhar me lyst sa weil, and profitabill
Our wery folkis to restyng and estabill,
Than in that cuntre quharin doith remane,
Ful deir to me, Acestes of blude Troiane,
And in his boundis, derrest outour the lave,
My faderis banys enbrasys, layd in grave.”
This beand sayd, towart the port thai stevyn,
The followand wynd blew strek thar saill furth evyn.
Fast our the wallys slydis the navy,
And in schort quhile arryvit ar blythly
At the strandis and costis weil bekend.
Bot, on the hie top of a hyll ascend,
Acestes gan behald, and had gret wondir,
And to the cost, als ferss as ony thundyr,
To meit hys frendis schippys dyd he speid,
A beyr skyn of Affryke abone hys weyd,
Ful grym of luke, with dartis keyn and rude
(Hys moder Troiane of Crinosus the flude
Consavit hym and bayr, as it is said).
Not forȝettyng hys ald kyn, blyth and glaid
Of thar return was he, and myrrely
Thame welcumand ressauyt by and by,
Gave thame of rural metis with glaid semlance,
And cherysyt thame with frendly purvyance.