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  So at the portis it ne entyr myght,

  Nor it be brocht within our wallys wyde,

  Nor our pepill favour, help nor gyde

  Eftir the auld relligioun and vsage.

  For gif our handis had violet, in our rage,

  This haly presand of the god Mynerve,

  Gret wraik suld follow that al suld e sterve,

  Priamus ryng distroyit and al our pelf —

  Quhilk destany goddis turn rather in hym self!

  Bot gif this ilk statw, standis heir wrocht,

  War with our handis into the cite brocht,

  Than schew he that the pepill of Asya

  But ony obstakill in fell batale suld ga

  Bet down the townys of Arge, that regioun,

  And the sam fait happyn our successioune.’

  Be sik wylis and slychtis mony one

  Of fals controvit and maynsworn Synone

  The mater is belevit with all it heris,

  And takyn ar by dissait and feneit teris

  Tha pepil quham the son of Thedeus,

  Nor fers Achilles, clepit Larysseus,

  Nor Grece ten heris in batale mycht ourcum,

  Nor it the thousand schippis al and sum.”

  Quhou stranglit was the prest hecht Laocon

  And how the hoss clam our the wallis of stone.

  “Betyd, the ilke tyde, a fer grettar woundir

  And mair dreidful to catyvis be sik hunder,

  Quhilk of Troianys trublit mony onwarnyt breste.

  As Laocon, that was Neptunus prest

  And chosyn by kavill onto that ilk office,

  A fair gret bull offerit in sacrifyce

  Solemnytly befor the haly alteir,

  Throw the styl sey from Tenedos infeir,

  Lo, twa gret lowpit edderis, with mony thraw,

  Fast throu the flude towart the land gan draw.

  My spreit abhorris this mater to declare:

  Abufe the watir thar halss stude euermare,

  With bludy crestis owtwith the wallis hie;

  The remanent swam always vnder see,

  With grysly bodeis lynkit mony fald;

  The salt fame stowris from the fard thai hald.

  Onto the grund thai glaid with glowand eyn

  Stuffit ful of vennom, fyre and fellon teyn,

  Wyth tongis quhislyng in thar mowthis rede

  Thai lyk the twynkland stangis in thar hed.

  We fled away al bludeless for affeir,

  Bot, wyth a braid, to Laocon infeir

  Thai stert atanys, and hys twa sonnys yng

  First athir serpent lappit lyke a ryng,

  And, with thar cruell byt and stangis fell,

  Of tendir membris tuke mony sary morcell.

  Syne thai the prest invadit, baith twane,

  Quhilk with hys wapynnys dyd hys byssy pane

  His childryng forto helpyn and reskew.

  Bot thai about hym lowpit in wympillis threw

  And twyss cyrkyllit his myddil rownd about

  And twyss faldis thar sprutlit skynnys but dowt

  About hys hals — bath nek and hede thai schent.

  As he etlys thar hankis to haue rent

  Of with his handis, and thame away haue draw,

  Hys hed bendis and garlandis all war blaw

  Ful of vennom and rank poyson atanys,

  Quhilk infekkis the flesch, blude and banys.

  And tharwith eik sa horribilly schowtis he,

  His cryis dynnyt to the sternys on hie;

  Lyke as a bull doith rummysing and rayr

  Quhen he eschapis hurt from the altair,

  And charris by the ax with his nek wight,

  Gif on his forhed the dynt hyttis nocht rycht.

  Syne thir twa serpentis hastely glaid away,

  Onto the cheif tempil fled ar thai

  Of stern Pallas to the hallowit place

  And crap in vnder the feit of the goddess,

  Hyd thame behynd the boyss of hir bukleir.

  Than trymlit thar mony stowt hart for feir,

  The onkowth dreid into thar brestis crap.

  All said, ‘Laocon iustly, sik was his hap,

  Has deir ybocht his wikkit and schrewit deid,

  For he the haly horss or stalwart steid

  With violente strake presumyt forto deir

  And tharintil to fessyn his cursit speir.

  Onto the hallowit sted bryng in,’ thai cry,

  ‘The gret fygur! And lat wss sacryfy

  The haly goddes, and magnyfy hyr mycht

  With orysonys and offerandis day and nycht!’

  Quhat wil e mair? The barmkyn down we rent,

  And wallis of our cite we maid patent.

  Onto that wark al sped thame bissely;

  Turnand quhelis thai set in by and by

  Vndir the feit of this ilke bysnyng iaip,

  Abowt the nek knyt mony bassyn raip.

  This fatale monstre clam our the wallis then,

  Gret wamyt and stuffit ful of armyt men,

  And tharabout ran childer and madis yng

  Syngand karrellis and dansand in a ryng —

  Ful weil war thame, and glaid was euery wight

  That with thar hand anys twich the cordis mycht.

  Furth drawyn haldis this suttell hors of tre

  And mannysand slydis throu the myd cite.

  O natyve cuntre and rial realm of Troy!

  O goddis howss, Ilion ful of ioy!

  O worthy Troiane wallis chevalrus!

  Four tymys stoppyt that monstre peralus,

  Evin at the entre of the portis wyde,

  And four syss the armour, that ilk tyde,

  Clynkit and rang amyd the large belly;

  Bot netheless, intil our blynd fury

  Foretting this, instantly we wirk

  And forto drug and draw wald neuer irk,

  Quhil that myschancy monstre, quently bet,

  Amyd the hallowit tempill vp was set.

  Cassandra than the fatis tocum tald plane,

  Bot, by command of Phebus, al was invane,

  For thocht scho spayit the suthe and maid na bowrd,

  Quhat euer scho said Troianys trowit nocht a word.

  The tempillis of goddis and sanctuaryis all

  We fey pepill — allace, quhat say I sall? —

  Quhamtill this was the duylfull lattir day,

  With festuale flowris and bewys, as in May,

  Dyd weil anorn, and fest and ryot maid

  Throu owt the town, and for myscheif was glaid.”

  Grekis entrys by trayson in the cite,

  And how Hector apperis till Ene.

  “Wyth this the hevyn sa quhyrlit about his speir

  Out of the sey the dym nycht gan appeir,

  With hir dyrk weid bath erth and firmament

  Involwyng, by hir secret schaddowis quent

  Covering Gregion and Myrmydonys slyght;

  Within the wallis to bed went euere wyght;

  Still war in all, and soft vapour of sleip

  Apon thar wery lymmys fast doith creip.

  Be than the army of mony a Gregioun,

  Stuffit in schippis, come fra Tenedon,

  Stil vnder frendly sylens of the moyn,

  To the kend costis speding thame ful soyn;

  And quhen the takynnyng or the bail of fyre

  Rayss from the kyngis schip, vp byrnand schyre,

  Of the goddis be frawart destany

  Synon preservit couth this syng aspy,

  The fyrryn closeris oppynnys, but noys or dyn,

  And Grekis hyd the horssis cost within

  Patent war maid to sight and to the ayr.

  Ioyfull and blyth from that boyss statw thar

  Discending, thai downlat by cordis atanys

  Thersander and Sthenelus, twa capitanys,

  The dowr Vlixes als, and Athamas,

  Pelyus nevo Pyrrus, and Kyng Thoas,

  The first Machaon, and Menelaus,

  And t
he engyne forgyar hait Epeus.

  The cite thai invaid and fast infest,

  With wyne and sleip yberyit and at rest.

  Slane ar the wachis liggyng on the wall,

  Opnyt the portis, leyt in thar feris all,

  Togidder ionyt euery cumpany:

  Throu the cite sone rayss the noyss and scry.

  Thys was that tyme quhen the fyrst quyete

  Of naturale sleip, to quham na gyft mair swete,

  Stelis on fordoverit mortale creaturis,

  And in thar swewynnys metis quent figuris.

  Lo, in my sleip I se stand me befor

  (As to my syght) maist lamentabil Hector

  Wyth large flude of teris, and al besprent,

  As he vmquhile eftyr the cart was rent,

  With barknyt blude and powder. O God, quhat skath!

  Boldynnyt ful gret war feit and lymmys baith

  By bandis of the cordis quhilk thame drewch.

  Ha, walloway, quhat harm and wo eneuch!

  Quhat ane was he, how far changit from ioy

  Of that Hector, quhilum returnyt to Troy

  Cled with the spule of hym Achillys,

  Or quhen the Troiane fyry blesis, I wyss,

  On Grekis schippis thyk fald he slang that day

  Quhen that he slew the duke Prothesylay!

  Hys fax and berd was fadyt quhar he stude

  And all hys hayr was glotnyt ful of blude.

  Full mony woundis on his body bayr he,

  Quhilk in defens of hys natyve cuntre

  About the wallys of Troy ressavyt he had.

  Me thocht I first wepyng and na thing glaid

  Rycht reuerently begouth to clepe this man,

  And with sik dolorus wordis thus began:

  ‘O thou, of Troy the lemand lamp of lycht,

  O Troiane hope, maist ferm defens in fyght,

  Quhat has the tareit? Quhy maid thou this delay,

  Hector, quham we desyrit mony a day?

  From quhat cuntre this wyss cummyn art thou?

  That eftir feil slauchter of thi frendis now

  And of thi folkis and cite efter huge payn,

  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,

  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.

  Our ennemyss 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 Pergama, the Troiane wallys wyght,

  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 less

  Hir kyndly goddis clepit Penates;

  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 handis

  The dreidfull valis, wymplis and garlandis

  Of Vesta, goddes of the erth and fyre,

  Quhilk in hir tempil eternaly byrnys schyre.”

  Quhou Eneas the trayson dyd persave,

  And quhat debait he maid the town to save.

  “In seyr placis throu the cite wyth this

  The murmur rayss, ay mair and mair I wyss,

  And clerar wolx the rumour and the dyne,

  So that, supposs Anchyss 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,

  Affrayit, I glystnyt of sleip and start on feit,

  Syne to the howssis 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

  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,

  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.

  Rycht so I than by cleyr takynnys enew

  Manifestly al the Grekis falshed knew —

  Thair hyd dissait wolx patent than to wss.

  The nobil lugyng of worthy Deyphobus

  Was fal to grond, the fyre vpspred onone;

  The nixt howss byrnys of Vcalegon;

  The large seys and costis Sygean,

  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 forss of armys couth avail,

  it hand for hand to thryng out throw the press

  With my feris, and rynnyng or we cess

  To the castel, our hartis brynt for desyre.

  The fury cachit our myndis hait as fyre,

  So that we thocht maist semly in a feld

  To de feghtand, enarmyt vnder scheld.

  Bot lo, Panthus, slippit the Grekis speris,

  Panthus Othriades son, that mony heris

  Was of the strenth and Phebus tempill preste,

  Into his armys lappit to his breist

  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 et rynnyng.

  ‘How now, Panthus, quhat tythingis do e bryng?

  In quhat estait is sanctuary and haly geir?

  To quhilk other fortress sall we speir?’

  Skars said I this, quhen gowlyng petuusly

  With thir wordis he answerd me in hy:

  ‘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 Iupiter to Grece all hass translait.

  Our al the cite, kyndillit in flambis hait,

  The Grekis now ar lordis but ony forss.

  Within the wallis one mekil standand horss

  ettis furth armyt men, and now Synon

  Is victour haill, kyndilland eueron

  The new fyris glaidly, as it war sport.

  At athir et beyn ruschit in sik a sort,

  Sa mony thousandis come neuer from Myce nor Arge.

  Sum cumpanyis with speris, lance and targe

  Walkis wachand in rewis and narow stretis;

  Arrayit batalis with drawyn swerdis at gletis

  Standis reddy forto styk, gor and sla.

  Skarsly the wachis of the portis twa

  Begouth defens and melle as thai mycht,

  Quhen blyndlyngis in the batail fey iha fyght.’

  Throu thir wordis of Panthus and goddis heste,

  Amyd the flambis and armour in I preste,

  Ruschand thidder quhar sorofull Erynnys,

  The noys and brute me drew, and quhar I wyss

  The clamour hard
I ryss vp to the ayr.

  And of our fallowis to me come twa pair,

  Repheus fyrst, be the lycht of the moyn,

  Valiant in armys Ephitus followit soyn;

  Hypanys syne and eik Dymas in hy

  Fast to our syde adionyt by and by,

  Mygdoneus son alsso, Chorebus yng,

  Quhilk in tha days, for fey luf hait byrnyng

  Of Cassandra, to Troy was cummyn that eir

  To help Priam and Troianys in the weir —

  Onhappy he was, wald not beleif fermly

  Hys sayd spowsis command and prophecy.

  Quhen I thame saw this wyss adionyt to me

  And wilful forto stryke in the melle,

  Thus I begouth thame forthirmar to steir:

  ‘O e maist forsy ong men that beyn heir,

  Wyth brestis strang and sa bald curage hie,

  Invayn e press to succur this cite

  Quhilk byrnys al in fyre and flambys rede:

  The goddis al ar fled out of this stede

  Throu quhais mycht stude our empyre mony day,

  Now all thar templis and altaris waist leif thai.

  Bot gif our desyre be sa fermly prest

  To follow me dar tak the vtyrmest,

  Quhat fortune is betyd, al thingis e se.

  Thar is na mair — lat ws togidder de,

  And in amyd our ennemyis army schute.

  To venquist folkis is a comfort and bute

  Nane hope of help tobeleif, or reskew.’

  Swa with thir wordis the ong menis curage grew

  That in the dyrk lyke ravenus wolffis on rawis

  Quham the blynd fury of thar empty mawis

  Dryvis furth of thar den to seik thar pray —

  Thar litil quhelpis left with dry throtis quhil day —

  So throw the wapynnys and our fays went we,

  Apon the ded ondowtit, and wald nocht fle.

  Amyd the cite we held the master streit,

  The dyrk nycht hyd ws with cloyss schaddowis meit.”

  The woful end per ordour heir, allace,

  Followys of Troy, and gestis of Eneas.

  “Quha sal the harmys of that woful nycht

  Expreme? Or quha with tong to tell hes mycht

  Sa feil ded corsis as thar lyis slane?

  Or thocht in cace thai weip quhil teris rayn

  Equaly may bewail tha sorowis all?

  The ancyant, worthy cite down is fall

  That mony eris held hie seneory.

  Stekit in stretis heir and thar thai ly,

  Feil corsis ded of mony onweldy wyght,

  Dung down in howsis, fey thai fal all nycht,

  In sanctuarys and templis of goddis eik;

  Na quhar mercy nor succor mycht thai seik.

  And not only of Troianys throu owt the town

  The blude is sched, thus marthyrit and slane down,

  Bot sum tyme eik to thame, ourcummyn and schent,

  Agane returnys in brestis hardyment,

  So that sum Grekis victoris war smyte ded.