sixth century of our era. He was educated in Greece, where he spent the first years of his life, and married a Sicilian lady of Greek extraction, by name Elpis: these serve to explain the fact of his Philhellenism referred to in the text. After having filled the highest office of state himself and having lived to see his sons Patricius and Hypatius Consuls also, he was sent to a prison in Pavia, for having stood up against the usurpations of Theodoric. He appears to have lived only six months in the prison, and then to have been cruelly executed: but the greater part of those six months he must have spent both wisely and well in the elegant prose and ingenious verse of "The consolations of Philosophy." In the second volume of this edition, King Alfred's prose Boethius will be given in full to the reader: the present work concerns the poetry. John Bunyan, we may remember, as well as the holy Paul, severally have put a prison to the like good uses: but Boethius has been censured, and with some reason, for not adding (what Alfred every where supplies) the consolations of religion to those of philosophy. His metres, 26 in number, are varied and ingenious: they have been systematized by Theodore Pulman; but it would here be out of place to descant upon them: our text is Alfred, not Boethius. II. A SORROWFUL FYTTE. CARMINA qui quondam studio florente peregi,-Flebilis, heu, mæstos cogor inire modos. Sorrowing tearfully, Can I sing cheerfully, Many a verity In those glad times Of my prosperity Taught I in rhymes; Now from forgetfulness Wanders my tongue, Wasting in fretfulness Metres unsung. Worldliness brought me here Riches have wrought me here When I rely on them Lo! they depart,— Bitterly, fie on them! Rend they my heart. Why did your songs to me, Say joy belongs to me Ever as then? Why did ye lyingly Think such a thing, Seeing how flyingly Wealth may take wing? The original is the opening poem of Boethius; whereof very little is here adopted by Alfred; but it is almost entirely an independent poem. This may fairly be regarded as a picture of Alfred's own mind in the dark times of his adversity. He reviews past glories, hints at a confession of some of those early sins of worldliness and arrogance whereof Asser has spoken,-rebukes flatterers, and lies down alongside of Boethius in his dungeon, with that sympathy which a brotherhood in grief alone can give. III. A FYTTE OF DESPAIR. Heu, quam praecipiti mersa profundo-Mens hebet, et propria luce relicta, ALAS! in how grim A gulf of despair, Dreary and dim For sorrow and care, My mind toils along When the waves of the world Stormy and strong Against it are hurl'd. When in such strife My mind will forget Its light and its life In worldly regret, And through the night Of this world doth grope Lost to the light Of heavenly hope. Thus it hath now Befallen my mind I know no more how God's goodness to find, But groan in my grief Troubled and tost, Needing relief For the world I have lost. Here also we have almost all Alfred; it is in fact an expansion of the two first lines of Boethius as given above, and not a trans lation of the whole ode; which is of much more considerable length. Like the former morsel, it recals the days when our deserted king sang his sorrows to his lonely harp in the neat herd's hut, or on the marsh of Æthelingay. O THOU, that art Maker of heaven and earth, Thou, by Thy strong holiness, drivest from far The moon, at Thy word, with his pale-shining rays So also the Morning and Evening Star Behold too, O Father, Thou workest aright Thou givest the trees a south-westerly breeze, On earth and in heaven each creature and kind For ever Almighty One, Maker and Lord, On us, wretched earthworms, Thy pity be pour'd; Why wilt Thou that welfare to sinners should wend, But lettest weird ill the unguilty ones rend? Evil men sit, each on earth's highest seat, |