That oft-quoted line-- 'Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt' haunts us like Tennyson's 'When unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square,' and no prose rendering can hope to convey the poignancy and pathos of the original.

The ideal translation, then, must be in verse, and perhaps the best way for us to determine which style and metre are most suited to convey to the modern reader an impression of the charm of Virgil, will be to take a brief glance at some of the best-known of the verse translations which have appeared.
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.