And sang in soothful strain
The truths he had to tell.

When with clearest blaze

The bright sun shines in the sky,
The stars must quench their rays
Over the earth so high;

For that, set in the light

Of her that rules by day,

Their brightness is not bright,
But dimly dies away.

When the wind south-west

Under the cloud blows low,
Field-flowers wax their best

Fain to be glad and grow.

But when East and by North

The stark storm strongly blows,

Speedily drives he forth

All beauty from the rose.

So, with a stern needs-be

The northern blast doth dash

And beat the wide waste sea

That it the land may lash.

Alas, that ever on earth

Nothing is fast and sure;

No work is found so worth
That it for ever endure.

Very little need here he added, beyond the perpetual protest against the idea that Alfred does more than take hints from Boethius justice is done to neither side by the word translation, or even paraphrase: for Alfred often omits two thirds of Boethius, and makes up by two-thirds of his own. To shew how united our modern and ancient English are, there are nearly forty

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,
And spoke out his spells as he wander'd along.
He said, On a mountain no man can be skill'd
With a roof weather-proof a high hall to upbuild.

Moreover, let no man think ever to win
By mixing pure wisdom with over-proud sin.
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
Of honours and havings, drink deep of such weal,
Yea, down to the dregs, and still thirsty will feel.
A house on a hill-top may never long stay,
For quickly the swift wind shall sweep it away;
And a house on the sand is no better at all;
In spite of the house-herd, in rain it shall fall.

So, failing and fickle is every mind

When rack'd by the rage of this world-trouble wind ;
And measureless cares, as a quick-dropping rain
Unstopping, stir up the mind's welkin with pain.

But he who would have everlasting true bliss,
Must fly from the glare of a world such as this:
And then let him make a strong home for his mind
Wherever true Lowliness' rock he can find ;

A settled ground-anchor that never shall slide,
Though trouble attack it by tempest and tide;
For that, in Lowliness' valley so fair

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,
When heedless alike of earth's good and earth's ill,
He watches in hope of an after-world still.

Such an one evermore God ever kind
Happily keeps in the calm of his mind;

Though wild winds of sorrow against him are hurl'd,
Though always annoyed by the cares of the world,
Though wrathful and grim are these trouble-dark gales,
And Care, in its anguish, or anger assails.

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.