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.