words in this short poem unchanged from the royal minstrel's Anglo Saxon and nearly the same ratio will be found to pervade most of the other metres. Again, as his wont, began Wisdom a song, Moreover, let no man think ever to win Heard ye that any built firmly on sand, Or caught hold of wisdom with gain-getting hand? The light soil is greedy to swallow the rain; So now doth the rich, in his measureless gain So, failing and fickle is every mind When rack'd by the rage of this world-trouble wind; But he who would have everlasting true bliss, A settled ground-anchor that never shall slide, The Lord, and mind-wisdom for ever live there. Therefore leads always a quiet-like life The wise in the world without changes or strife, Such an one evermore God ever kind Though wild winds of sorrow against him are hurl'd, By way of comparing Alfred with Boethius, in a fair average instance, here follows a literal translation of the Latin ode whereof the lines above,-also literally rendered from the Anglo Saxon,are commonly supposed to be a paraphrase. "Whoever prudently desires to build an everlasting house, and firmly wills that it be not thrown down by the blasts of roaring Eurus, and ventures not to despise the sea threatening with waves, let him avoid the top of a high mountain, and thirsty sands: the former froward Auster drives against with all his might the latter, dissolving, refuse to sustain the pendulous mass. Avoiding the dangerous portion of a luxurious residence, remember for stability to fix thy house on the humble rock. Though the wind mingling the sea with ruins should roar like thunder, thou, happily hidden in the strength of a quiet rampart, shalt live thy life serenely, and laugh at the wrath of the sky." As this is so very dissimilar from the poem above, the reader will of course suppose that our present version is at fault ;—but, whatever other deficiencies it must confess to, that of unfaithfulness is not one: we have honestly represented Alfred, with scarcely a word added for rhyme's sake. And how beautifully does the Christian King improve on the philosophizing senator: we are here reading the blest experiences of one taught to be humble in the school of adversity. When earth's fruitful plenty came They ate earth's fruits, and nought beside; No silk-sewn weeds wish'd they to wear, Steel that struck, or wound that well'd. Won not worship for their ill; All would then have loathed them sore: O that this could be once more! |