The first translation of the _Aeneid_ into English verse was that of Gawin Douglas, bishop of Dunkeld in Scotland, which was published in 1553. It is a spirited translation, marked by considerable native force and verisimilitude, and it was certainly unsurpassed until that of Dryden appeared. In the best passages it renders the tone and feeling of the original with extreme felicity--indeed, all but perfectly. Take for instance this passage from the Sixth Book-- 'Thai walking furth fa dyrk, oneth thai wyst Quhidder thai went, amyd dym schaddowys thar, Quhar evir is nycht, and nevir lyght dois repar, Throwout the waist dongion of Pluto Kyng, Thai voyd boundis, and that gowsty ryng: Siklyke as quha wold throw thik woddis wend In obscure licht, quhen moyn may nocht be kenned; As Jupiter the kyng etheryall, With erdis skug hydis the hevynnys all And the myrk nycht, with her vissage gray, From every thing hes reft the hew away.' But in spite of its merits, its dialect wearies the modern reader, and gives it an air of grotesqueness which is very alien to the spirit of the Latin. One other sixteenth-century translation deserves notice, as it was written by one who was himself a distinguished poet; namely, the version of the second and fourth books of the _Aeneid_ written by Henry, Earl of Surrey. It gained the commendation of that stern critic Ascham, who praises Surrey for avoiding rhyme, but considers that he failed to 'fully hit perfect and true versifying'; which is hardly a matter for wonder since English blank verse was then in its infancy. But it has some fine passages--notably the one which relates the death of Dido-- 'As she had said, her damsell might perceue Her with these wordes fal pearced on a sword The blade embrued and hands besprent with gore. The clamor rang unto the pallace toppe, The brute ranne throughout al thastoined towne, With wailing great, and women's shrill yelling, The roofs gan roare, the aire resound with plaint, As though Cartage, or thauncient town of Tyre With prease of entred enemies swarmed full, Or when the rage of furious flame doth take The temples toppes, and mansions eke of men.' Of the translations into modern English, that of Dryden may still be said to stand first, in spite of its lack of fidelity. It owes its place to its sustained vigour, and the fact that the heroic couplet is in the hands of a master. In its way nothing could be better than-- 'Just in the gate, and in the jaws of hell, Revengeful cares, and sullen sorrows dwell, And pale diseases, and repining age-- Want, fear, and famine's unresisted rage, Here toils and death, and death's half-brother sleep, Forms terrible to view, their sentry keep. With anxious pleasures of a guilty mind, Deep frauds, before, and open force behind; The Furies' iron beds, and strife that shakes Her hissing tresses, and unfolds her snakes.'