“Thee also, warring Æolus, did that Laurentine field See fallen and cumbering the earth with body laid alow; Thou diest, whom the Argive hosts might never overthrow, Nor that Achilles’ hand that wrought the Priam’s realm its wrack. Here was thy meted mortal doom: high house ‘neath Ida’s back— High house within Lyrnessus’ garth, grave in Laurentine lea.” It only needs to compare this with the original to see how far it misses the pathos of the Latin; it needs only to compare it with Mr. Morris himself, where he has forgotten or failed to be sufficiently archaic, to see the reason of the miss. Take, again, the passage from the shipwreck in the second book already referred to: “Now therewithal Æneas’ limbs grew weak with chilly dread; He groaned, and, lifting both his palms aloft to heaven, he said: O thrice and four times happy ye that had the fate to fall Before your fathers’ faces there by Troy’s beloved wall! Tydidĕs, thou of Danaan folk, the mightiest under shield, Why might I never lay me down upon the Ilian field? Why was my soul forbid release at thy most mighty hand, Where eager Hector stooped and lay before Achilles’ wand, Where huge Sarpedon fell asleep, where Simois rolls along The shields of men and helms of men and bodies of the strong?” The word “wand” for _telo_ has an odd look, but that may be forgiven to the rhyme; and the rest is simple, emotional, and true. In like happy moments of oblivion we catch an echo of _Jason_, as in the opening of book vii.: “The faint winds breathe about the night, the moon shines clear and kind; Beneath the quivering, shining road the wide seas gleaming lie.... The fowl that love the river-bank and haunt the river-bed Sweetened the air with plenteous song and through the thicket fled.” The rising of the Rutules in vii. 623 is an animated picture unmarred by too many of the mannerisms we have spoken of: