The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse. Volumes 1 & 2. Virgil

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СКАЧАТЬ OF ENEADOS

       COMPILIT AND TRANSLATIT FURTH OF LATYN

       IN OUR SCOTTIS LANGAGE

       BY ANE RICHT NOBILL AND WIRSCHIPFULL CLERK

       MASTER GAWYN DOWGLAS

       PROVEST OF SANCT GYLYS KYRK IN EDINBURGH

       AND PERSON OF LYNTOUN IN LOUTHIANE

       QUHILK EFTYR WAS BISCHOP OF DUNKELD

INCIPIT PROLOGUS

       IN VIRGILII ENEADOS.

       Table of Contents

      Lawd, honour, praysyngis, thankis infynyte

      To the and thy dulce ornat fresch endyte,

      Maist reuerend Virgill, of Latyn poetis prynce,

      Gem of engyne and flude of eloquens.

      Thou peirles perle, patroun of poetry,5

      Roys, regester, palm, lawrer, and glory,

      Chosyn charbukkil, cheif flour, and cedyr tre,

      Lantarn, laid stern, myrrour, and A per se,

      Maister of masteris, sweit sours, and spryngand well,

      Wyde quhar our all rung is thyne hevynly bell;10

      I meyn thy crafty warkis curyus,

      Sa quyk, lusty, and maist sentencyus,

      Plesand, perfyte, and feilabill in all degre,

      As quha the mater beheld tofor thar E;

      In every volume quhilk the lyst do wryte,15

      Surmontyng fer all other maner endyte,

      Lyke as the roys in June with her sweit smell

      The mary guld or dasy doith excell.

      Quhy suld I than, with dull forhed and vayn,

      With rude engyne and barrand emptyve brayn,20

      With bad harsk spech and lewit barbour tong,

      Presume to write quhar thy sweit bell is rung,

      Or contyrfate sa precyus wordys deir?

      Na, na, noth swa, bot kneill quhen I thame heir.

      For quhat compair betwix myd day and nycht,

      Or quhat compair betwix myrknes and lycht,

      Or quhat compair is betwix blak and quhyte,5

      Far grettar difference betwix my blunt endyte

      And thy scharp sugurate sang Virgiliane,

      Sa wysly wrocht, with nevir a word invane.

      My waverand wyt, my cunnyng febill at all,

      My mynd mysty, thir may nocht mys a fall;10

      Stra for thys ignorant blabryng imperfyte,

      Besyde thy polyst termys redymyte.

      And netheles with support and correctioun,

      For naturall lufe and frendely affectioun,

      Quhilkis I beir to thy warkis and endyte;15

      All thocht, God wait, tharin I knaw full lyte;

      And that thy facund sentence mycht be song

      In our langage alsweill as Latyn tong,

      Alsweill, na, na, impossibill war, per de;

      Ȝit with thy leif, Virgill, to follow the,20

      I wald, into my rurall wlgar gros,

      Wryte sum savoryng of thyne Eneados.

      Bot fair I dreid forto disteyn the quyte,

      Throu my corruppit cadens imperfyte;

      Disteyn the, nay forsuyth, that may I nocht,25

      Weill may I schaw my burall bustuus thocht,

      Bot thy wark sall endur in lawd and glory,

      But spot or falt, condyng etern memory.

      Thocht I offend, onwemmyt is thy fame,

      Thyne is the thank, and myne salbe the schame.30

      Quha may thy versis follow in all degre,

      In bewtie, sentence, and in grauite?

      Nane is, nor was, ne ȝit salbe, trow I,

      Had, has, or sal haue sic craft in poetry.

      Of Helicon so drank thou dry the flude5

      That of thy copios fouth or plenitude,

      All mon purches drynk at thy sugurit tun;

      So lamp of day thou art and schynand son,

      All otheris on fors mon thar lycht beg or borrow,

      Thou art Vesper and the day stern at morow;10

      Thou Phebus lightnar of the planetis all,

      I not quhat dewly I the clepe sall,

      For thou art all, and sum, quhat nedis more,

      Of Latyn poetis that sens was, or before.

      Of the writis Macrobius, sans faill,15

      In hys gret volume clepit Saturnaill.

      Thy sawys in sic eloquens doith fleit,

      So inuentive of rethorik flowris sweit

      Thou art, and has so hie profund sentens

      Tharto perfyte but ony indigens,20

      That na lovyngis ma do incres thy fame,

      Nor na reproche dymynew thy gud name.

      Bot sen I am compellit the to translait,

      And not only of my curage, God wait,

      Durst interpryse syk owtrageus foly,25

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