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“The pepil of othir realmys, son,” said he,
“Bene mor expert in craftis, and mar sle
To forge and kerf lyflyke staturis of brass,
Be contenans as the spreit tharin was;
I trast, forsuyth, heirefter mony ane
Sal hew quyk facis furth of marbil stane;
Sum otheris bettir can thar causis pled;
Sum bene mar crafty in ane other sted,
With rewlis and with mesouris by and by
For til exers the art of geometry;
And sum mor subtel to discryve and prent
The starnys movyng and the hevynnys went:
Bot thou, Romane, ramember, as lord and syre,
To rewle the pepil vnder thyne empyre;
Thir sal thy craftis be, at weil may seme,
The peax to modefy and eik manteme,
To pardon all cumis ȝoldin and recryant,
And prowd rabellis in batale forto dant.”
Thus said the noble fader Anchyses meik,
As thai awondrit can thir wordis eik:
“Behald Marcus Marcellus mast douchty,
Quhar that he walkis, lo, sa gloriusly,
With the rich spulȝe triumphale deirly dycht,
Quhilk he reft from his aduersar in fyght,
As the maste vailȝeant victor that I ken,
In bonty doith exceid all other men.
This worthy knycht the common weil Romane,
In gret affray perturbit, to rest agane
And quyet sal restor, and ȝon is he
That venquys sal the Affricane menȝe,
And the Franch rebellioun sall down bet;
The thrid armour or rych spulȝe gret,
Reft from chiftane of weir, this Marcellus
Sall hyng vp to the fader Quirynus.”
And for alsmekil as Eneas saw
In falloschip with this Marcus raik on raw
A sembly springald, a far ȝong galland,
Rycht schaply maid, in armour brycht schynand,
Bot his vissage semyt scarsly blith,
With luke doun cast, as in his face dyd kith
That he was sum deill sad and no thing lycht:
“Fader,” quod he, “quhat be ȝon drery knycht,
Quhilk haldis so with ȝon prince cumpany?
Quhidder his son, or sum nevo worthy,
Of our gret lynage and successioun?
O Lord, how gret brute, noys and sovn
Of confluens that walkyng him about!
Quhou gret apperance is in hym but dout
Tilbe of prowes, and a valȝeant knycht!
Bot a blak sop of myst, als dyrk as nycht,
With drery schaddo bilappis his hed.”
The fader tho, Anchises, in the sted,
With teris bristyng furth, begouth to say:
“O my sweit son, inquir nocht, I the pray,
The excedand regrait and womanting
Of thame bene fortocum of thyne ofspring.
The fatis sall bot for a litill space
Schaw ȝon man to the erth and wardly place,
And sal no langer suffer him tharin.
O goddis abufe, the Romanys blude and kyn
Semyt to ȝou our myghty and potent,
Gif so it war the giftis ȝhe hym lent
Had remanyt, or lang his lyfe had lest.
Quhou gret murnyng of men all forcyest,
For hym, furth of the feildis marcyall,
Sall dyn and resound to the cite wall!
And O thou god of the flude Tyberyne,
Quhou mony fertyrris and duyl habetis schyne
Sall thou behald, as thou flowis at Rome
Down by his new maid sepultur or tovme!
Ne nevir child cummyn of Troiane blude
In sic beleif and glory and gret gude
Sal rayss his forbearis Italianys;
Ne nevir, certis, the grund of the Romanys
Of ony fostir sal him so avance.
Allace, quhat harm of the disseuerance!
Of thy gret piete and thyne ancyant treuth,
Thy hand onvenquyst in batale, O quhat reuth!
Nane suld, but dammage, hym in harnes meit,
Quhidder so aganyst him he went on feit,
Or ȝit on horsbak, as thir knychtis rydis,
With spurris brochand the fomy stedis sydis.
Allace my child, so worthy tobe menyt,
Worthy tobe bewalit and complenyt!
Gyf thou thyne hard werdis mycht vincus,
Thou salbe namyt the souerane Marcellus.
Of fresch lilleis reke me my handis full;
The purpour flowris I sal skattir and pull,
That I may strow, with sik rewardis at lest,
My nevoys sawle, to culȝe and to fest,
And, but profit, sik costage sall exers.”
Apon this wyss seir thingis dyd reherss
Anchises, and thus wide quhar thai do walk
Our al that regioun, haldand spech and talk
Within the large feildis of hailsum air,
And euery thing per ordour visseyt thar.
And efter that Anchises, hand in hand,
Had thus his son led our all that land,
And his curage inflambit by and by
With the gret fame tocum and hie glory;
Syne to this valȝeant man he rekkynnys heir,
Per ordour, all the batalis and the wer
Quhilk eftir this he had to ber on hand;
And of the pepill eik in Latyn land,
And of the cite of the kyng Latyne,
He him instrukkis; and tharefter syne
Taucht him quhat wyss he myght sustene or fle
Evir hard danger or aduersite.
Thar bene ordanyt for dremys ȝettis twane,
Quharof, thai say, of horn forgit is ane,
At quham the suythfast swevynnys by and by
Departis all ways, and ischis furth lychtly;
The tother port is forgit wail perfite
Of eliphantyne and polist evor quhite,
Bot tharat goddis infernal lattis owt
The fals swevynnys to the warld about.
So as Anchises had, apon this wyss,
Rehersit, as said is, all thingis at devyss,
Sibilla and his son togidder at schort
He leit depart furth at the evor port.
Eneas spedis the strecht way to the schippis,
And can vissy agane his falloschippis.
Fra thyne thai hald, endlang the costis bay,
Onto the port of Caiet the strecht way.
Furth of the forschip leyt thai ankyris glyde;
The navy raid endlang the schoris syde.