“... All Ausonia yet unstirred brake suddenly ablaze; And some will go afoot to field, and some will wend their ways Aloft on horses dusty-fierce; all seek their battle-gear. Some polish bright the buckler’s face and rub the pike-point clear With fat of sheep; and many an axe upon the wheel is worn. They joy to rear the banners up and hearken to the horn. And now five mighty cities forge the point and edge anew On new-raised anvils: Tibur proud, Atina stanch to do, Ardea and Crustumerium’s folk, Antennæ castle-crowned. They hollow helming for the head; they bend the withe around For buckler-boss; or other some beat breastplates of the brass, Or from the toughened silver bring the shining greaves to pass. Now fails all prize of share and work, all yearning for the plough; The swords their fathers bore afield anew they smithy now. Now is the gathering trumpet blown; the battle-token speeds, And this man catches helm from wall; this thrusteth foaming steeds To collar; this his shield does on, and mail-coat threesome laid Of golden link, and girdeth him with ancient trusty blade.” Passages like this—and, indeed, there are many of them—only deepen our regret that Mr. Morris should let a whim of doubtful taste deprive us of what might have been otherwise the best rendering of the _Æneid_ yet. One other passage we will give, and then cease to tax longer the patience of the reader. It shall be the gallant picture of Turnus sallying forth to battle (xi. 486), which, as it is taken from the like description of Paris, near the end of the sixth _Iliad_, will permit us to compare Morris’ manner with Chapman’s: “Now eager Turnus for the war his body did begird: The ruddy gleaming coat of mail upon his breast he did, And roughened him with brazen scales; with gold his legs he hid; With brow yet bare, unto his side he girt the sword of fight, And, all a glittering, golden man, ran down the castle’s height.[7] High leaps his heart, his hope runs forth the foeman’s force to face; As steed, when broken are the bonds, fleeth the stabling place, Set free at last, and, having won the unfenced open mead. Now runneth to the grassy ground wherein the mare-kind feed; Or, wont to water, speedeth him in well-known stream to wash, And, wantoning, with uptost head about the world doth dash, While wave his mane-locks o’er his neck, and o’er his shoulders play.” Compare Chapman, _Iliad_ vi. 503 (Οὐδέ Πάρις δήθυνεν ἐν ὑψηλοῖοι δόμοιοιν):