Page:George Chapman, a critical essay (IA georgechapmancri00swin).pdf/139

 Such was the passion that Peace now put on; And on all went; when suddenly was gone All light of heaven before us; from a wood, Whose sight, fore-seen, now lost, amazed we stood, The sun still gracing us; when now, the air Inflamed with meteors, we discovered fair The skipping goat; the horse's flaming mane; Bearded and trainèd comets; stars in wane; The burning sword; the firebrand-flying snake; The lance; the torch; the licking fire; the drake; And all else meteors that did ill abode; The thunder chid; the lightning leapt abroad: And yet when Peace came in all heaven was clear; And then did all the horrid wood appear, Where mortal dangers more than leaves did grow; In which we could not one free step bestow, For treading on some murder'd passenger Who thither was by witchcraft forced to err; Whose face the bird hid that loves humans best, That hath the bugle eyes and rosy breast, And is the yellow autumn's nightingale."

This is Chapman at his best; and few then can better him. The language hardly holds lovelier lines, of more perfect colour and more happy cadence, than some few of these which I have given to shew how this poet could speak when for a change he was content to empty his mouth of pebbles and clear his forehead of fog. The vision