The Whole Works of King Alfred the Great

O that God would now on earth
Make us all so purely worth!
But alas, men now are worse;
Lust of getting sets a curse
As a clog upon each mind,
Reckless other good to find.
Lust of gain unfathomed glows
In the heart with bubbling throes;
Swart it lies, and sweltering deep,
Like old Etna's boiling heap,
Which, in Sicily's broad isle,
Burns with brimstone many a mile,
So that men around it tell,
Of its fires as fires of hell,

For that ever still it burns
Bitter everywhere by turns.

Woe! that ever should have been
In this world the sinner seen,
Who was first so basely bold
As to dig for gems and gold :
Cares for many then he found
Darkly hidden in the ground,
Dangerous wealth and deadly worth
In the deeps of sea and earth.

Alfred and Boethius get nearer together in this ode, which is not wonderful, as there is very little to draw out the wise thoughtfulness of Alfred's mind. Accordingly, he cared not to suffer his harp to make digressions: it is merely a contrast between the golden age and the age of gold.

IX. NERO.

Novimus quantas dederit ruinas-Urbe flammata, patribusque cæsis,

Inwid-thoncas!

He het him to gamene,

Swa swa lyft and lagu
Land ymbelyppath,

Geara forbaernan,

Gar-secg embe-gyrt

Romana burig,

Gumena rice

Secge sitlu;

Ealles ethel-stol.

Suth-east and west,

He for unsnyttrum,

Oth tha northmestan

Wolde fandian,

Gif thaet fyr meahte

Naessan on eorthan;
Eall that Nerone,

Nede oththe lustum,

And swa longe eac,

Readra settan,

Swe he Romane

He haefde him to gamene

Secgan geherde,

Thonne he on gylp astag,

Hu he eorth-cyningas

Troia burg.

Yrmde and cwelmde.

Ofertogen hæfde

Wenst thu thaet se anwald

Lega leohtost,

Eathe ne meahte

Lengest burne

Godes aelmihtiges

Hama under hefonum.

Thone gelp-scathan,

Næs thaet herlic dæd,

Rice beraedan,

That hine swelces gamenes

And bereafian

100

Gilpan lyste,

His an waldes,

Tha he ne earnade

Thurh tha ecan meaht;

Oththe him his yfeles

Buton that he wolde.

Elles gestioran?

Ofer wer-thiode,

Eala gif he wolde.

105

His anes huru.

Thaet he wel meahte,

Anwald cythan.

Thaet unriht him,

Eac hit gesælde,

Et sumum cierre,

Eawla thaet se hlaford

Thæt se ilca het

Ealle acwellan

Sware on tha swyran

Tha ricostan

Sinra thegena.

Romana witan,

Ealra thara haeletha.

And tha æthelestan

The on his tidum

Eorl gebyrdum,

The he on them folce

Liban sceoldon.

Gefrigen hæfde:

He on unscyldgum

And on uppan

Agene brothor,

His sweord selede

And his modor mid,

Meca ecgum,

Thaer waes swithe sweotol,

Billum of-beatan.

Thaet we saedon oft.

Thaet se an wald ne deth

Self mid sweorde:

Awiht godes,

And he symle was

Gif se wel nele

125

Micle the blithra

The his geweald hafath.

All know too well, abroad or near at home,
What evils Nero wrought, that king of Rome,
When, highest under heav'n, his rule was then
The dread and overthrow of many men.
The madness of this savage bred betimes
Lust, murder, vile misdeeds, a bad man's crimes;

He gave the word of old to wrap in flame
Rome's self,his kingdom's seat,to make him game;
Wishing in wicked wantonness to know
Whether the fire so long and red would glow
As erst in Troy, he heard that Romans said,
The mounting fire burn'd longest and most red.
Base deed, in such fierce frolic to delight,
Aimless and vain, unless to mark his might.

And, once it happened, at a certain hour,
He would again show forth his frantic power,
And bade the richest men of Rome be slain,
Each earl of highest birth, each wisest thane:
With swords and bills he hewed until they died
His mother, brother, yea, and his own bride,—
Ever the blither in his own bad breast
When he had done such murders cruellest.
Nothing reck'd he that soon the mighty Lord
Would mete out wrath to sinners so abhorr'd,
But in his mind, that fed on wicked wiles,
Remain❜d a savage, wreath'd in cunning smiles.

Still, even he so ruled this middle earth
Far as the land hath air and sea for girth,
Far as the sea surrounds all men and things,
The seats of warriors and the thrones of kings,
That from the South and East and furthest West
And Earth's high head-land reaching northernest,
All to this Nero willing worship gave,

And every chief by force became his slave,
Till 'twas his game, when pride had puff'd his mind,
To hunt and kill the kings of human-kind.

But thinkest thou that God's all holy might
Could not with ease this haughty sinner smite,
And scathe his pride, and drive him from the helm,
Or quench his guilt, and so berid the realm ?
O that he would, as well he might with ease,
Ever forbid such wrongful works as these!
Woe, that this lord should cast so heavy a yoke
On all men's necks, both thanes and serving folk,

Who, for the harmful season of his power,
Lived in this world their quickly passing hour:
Woe, that his sword was often weltering then
With blood of highborn earls and guiltless men.

Clearly in this, our saying shone out bright,
That power can do no good, as well it might,
If he who rules, wills not to rule aright.

Here also Alfred stays with Boethius, so long as he is giving the portrait of an evil king; but the moral of the picture is all his For some strange reason or other, Boethius, though a Christian, perpetually forgets that Religion is the highest form of Philosophy.

own.

X. OF FAME AND DEATH.

Quicumque solam mente præcipiti petit,-Summamque credit gloriam ;