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Eftyr thir rasys done, and gyftys geif,
“Now cummys heir,” said Ene, “quha lyst preif
To streke thar armys furth, and heys on hycht,
For mayss or burdon arrayit weil at rycht;
Quha hess tharto reddy bald spreit lat se.”
For athir party the pryce ordanyt hess he:
For the victour a bul, and al hys hed
Of goldyn schakaris and royss garlandis red
Buskyt full weil; to hym venquyst, alssua,
A rych helm and a fyne sword, baith twa,
Set for hys solace. Than, but delay, Darhes
With buustuus forss schew hys face in the press.
As he vpstart, onon gret rumour rayss
Amang the commonys, sayand: “Lo! quhar he gays,
Alane was wont agane Parys debait;
Ȝon sam is he quhilk, at the tumbe, fute hait,
Quhar beryit was Hector of maist renoun,
The campion Butes ourcum and bet doun,
Al flat hym speldyt on the dun sand,
In the dedthrawis; quhilk Butes, to vnderstand,
Fra Bebrycy com, of statur huge rude,
And hym avansyt of Kyng Amycus blude.”
Thys ilk Darhes, berand hys hed on hie,
Reddy for batale, schew furth, at al mycht se,
Hys schulderis braid, and swakkis heir and thar
Hys armys strecht with gret flappys in the ayr.
Ane othir mache to hym was socht and speryt,
Bot thar was nane of al the rowt at steryt
Ne durst presume meyt that man on the land,
With mace nor burdon to debait hand for hand.
Ioly and glaid tharof, baith al and sum
Into bargane wenyng fortil ourcum,
Beforn Eneas feyt stad but delay,
The bul he grippys by ane of hornys tway
With hys left hand, and said apon this wyss;
“Son of the goddes, gyf na man wil ryss,
Ne dar hym self aventur in batelle,
Quhy stand I thus? Quhou lang efferis me dwell?
Command me leid away the pryce al fre.”
The Troianys with hym sammyn, he and he,
Murmuryt and bemyt on the ilke wyss;
“Reyk to the man the pryce promyst,” all cryiss.
Tho gan the grave Acest with wordis chyde
Entellus, sat on greyn sonk hym besyde:
“Entell,” quod he, “vmquhile the forcyast
Of campionys clepyt, and the worthyast,
Invane that name thou beris, I dar say,
Gyf thou, sa thoilmude, sufferis leid away
Sa gret a pryce, but dereyn of batell.
Quhar is he now, gret Erix, as thai tell,
Our god renownyt, and mastir, al for nocht?
Quhar now that fame, our al Sycil onflocht
Quhilum dywlgate, is becummyn and gone?
Quhar beyn the spulȝe triumphal mony one,
Within thine howss hyngis on euery post?”
The tother ansuerd: “Nowthir for dreid ne bost
The luf of worschip nor honour went away is,
Bot certanly the dasyt blude, now on days,
Walxis dolf and dull throw myne onweldy age;
The cald body hess mynnyst my curage.
Bot war I now, as vmquhile it hess bene,
Ȝyng as ȝon wanton voustour, sa strang thai weyn,
Ȝa, had I now syk ȝouthed, traistis me,
But ony pryce, I suld al reddy be;
Na lusty bull me tyl induce suld neid,
For nothir I suld haue cravyt wage nor meyd.”
Quhen this was said, he hess, but mair abaid,
Twa kempys burdonys brocht, and befor thame laid,
With al thar harness and braseris by and by,
Of weght ful huge, and schap onmesurly,
Quhar with, vmquhile, the stern Erix was wont
To feght in bargane, and geif mony dont,
In that hard bellan hys brawnys to enbrace.
All wolx estonyst beheld thame in that place:
So huge weght and so gret quantite
Thai war, that weil thame semyt fortobe
Of curbulle corvyn sevyn gret oxin hydis,
Styf as a burd that stude, on athir sydis
Stuffyt and cowchit ful of irne and leid.
Abuf al otheris, Darhes, in that sted,
Thame tobehald abasyt wolx grettumly,
Thar with to mel reffusyng aluterly,
Bot, ful of magnanymyte, Eneas
Pasys thar weght als lychtly as a fass,
Thar hydduus braseris swakand to and fro.
Syk wordis gan the auld rehersyng tho:
“Quhat wald he haue said, that perchance had se
Hercules burdon and wapynnys heir,” quod he,
“And on this ilke cost the sorofull bargane?
Thir sammyn wapynnys Erix, thi broder germane,
Was wont to bair—behald thame smottyt quyte
Of his red blude, and harnys tharon owtsmyte.
With thir agane gret Hercules stude he;
With thir was I wont mach in the melle,
Quhil my fresch blude mair forss and strenth me lent,
Or that onfrendlych eild had thus bysprent
My hed and halffettis baith with canus hair.
Bot gyf that Troiane Darhes reffusys thair
With thir, our cuntre wapynnys, in feild to pass,
And eyk it lykis the curtas Eneas,
So that Acest my soverane that appreve
(Be not efferd, Darhes, na thing the greve),
Erix macis to the on syde lay I,
And thou thi Troiane burdon alsso do by;
With equale wapynnys lat ws go to sone.”
And, with that word, of hys schulderis hess done
Hys dowbill habyt, and hys lymmys squair,
Baith byg bonys and brawnys, maid al bair,
Syne stythly in the sand vpstandis he,
Of hydduus statur and of quantite.