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

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Quhen we beyn irkit, we se the heir agayn!

      Quhat hard myschance fylyt so thi plesand face?

      Or quhy se I tha feil woundis, allace!

      Onto thir wordis he nane answer maid,15

      Nor to my voyd demandis na thyng said,

      Bot with ane hevy murmour, as it war draw

      Furth of the boddum of his breste weil law,

      Allace! allace! thou goddes son, quod he,

      Salf thi self from this fyre, and fast thou fle;20

      Our ennemys has thir worthy wallys tane;

      Troy from the top down fallys, and all is gane.

      Enewch has lestit of Priamus the ryng,

      The fatis wil na mair it induryng.

      Gif Pargama, the Troiane wallys wyght,25

      Mycht langar haue beyn fendit into fyght,

      With this rycht hand thai suld haue be defendit;

      Adew! fair weil! for euer it is endit.

      In thi keping committis Troy, but les,

      Hir kyndly goddis clepit Penates;30

      Tak thir in falloschip of thi fatis all,

      And large wallis for thame seik thou sall,

      Quhilk at the last thi self sall beld vp hie,

      Eftir lang wandryng and errour our the see.

      Thus said Hectour, and schew furth in his handis5

      The dreidfull valis, wymplis, and garlandis

      Of Vesta, goddes of the erth and fyre,

      Quhilk in hir tempil eternaly byrnys schyre.

      CAP. VI.

      Quhou Eneas the trayson did persave,

      And quhat debait he maid the town to save.

      In seyr placis throu the cite, wyth this,

      The murmur rays, ay mair and mair, I wys,10

      And clerar wolx the rumour and the dyne:

      So that, suppos Anchysis my faderis In

      With treys abowt stude secrete by the way,

      So bustuus grew the noys and furyus fray,

      And ratlyng of thar armour on the streit,15

      Affrayit, I glystnyt of sleip, and start on feit;

      Syne to the hows hed ascendis onone,

      With eris prest stude thar als stil as stone.

      A sownd or swowch I hard thar at the last,

      Lyke quhen the fyre, be fellon wyndis blast,20

      Is drevyn amyd the flat of cornys rank;

      Or quhen the burn on spait hurlys down the bank,

      Owder throu a watir brek, or spait of flude,

      Ryvand vp rede erd, as it war wod,

      Down dyngand cornys, all the pleuch laubour atanys,

      And dryvis on swyftly stokkis, treis and stanys:

      The sylly hyrd, seand this grysly syght,5

      Set on a pynnakill of sum cragis hycht,

      Al abasit, nocht knawand quhat this may meyn,

      Wondris of the sovnd and ferly at he has seyn.

      Rychtso I than, by cleyr takynnys enew,

      Manifestly al the Grekis falshed knew;10

      Thair hyd dissait wolx patent than to ws.

      The nobil lugyng of worthy Deyphobus

      Was fal to grond, the fyre vpspred onone;

      The nixt hows byrnys of Vcalegon:

      The large seys and costis Sygean,15

      Throu lycht of flambis and brycht fyris, schane.

      Vpsprang the cry of men and trumpys blist:

      As out of mynd, myne armour on I thryst,

      Thocht be na rayson: persave I mycht, but fail,

      Quhat than the fors of armys couth avail;20

      Ȝit, hand for hand, to thryng out throw the pres

      With my feris, and rynnyng or we ces

      To the castel, our hartis brynt for desyre;

      The fury cachit our myndis hait as fyre,

      So that we thocht maist semly in a feld25

      To de feghtand, enarmyt vnder scheld.

      Bot lo! Panthus, slippit the Grekis speris,

      Panthus Othriades son, that, mony ȝheris,

      Was of the strenth, and Phebus tempill preste,

      Into his armys, lappit to his breist,30

      The haly rellykkis of the sanctuary,

      And eik our venquist goddis, by and by

      With hym beryng, and, in his hand alsso,

      Harlyng hym efter his litil nevo,

      Cummys lyke a wodman til our ȝet rynnyng.5

      How now, Panthus, quhat tythingis do ȝe bryng?

      In quhat estait is sanctuary and haly geir?

      To quhilk other fortres sall we speir?

      Skars said I this, quhen, gowlyng petuusly,

      With thir wordis he answerd me in hy:10

      The lattir day is cummyn of Dardanus end,

      The fatale tyme quham na walyng may mend;

      We war Troianys; vmquhile was Ilion;

      The schynand glory of Phrygianys now is gone:

      Fers СКАЧАТЬ