Thou orderest it that they may see Thyself. Alfred here expands twenty-eight lines of Boethius into a magnificent psalm, worthy of the Christian poet and philosopher. In all this, how strangely in advance, not only of his own age, but positively of ours! Religion and learning, poetical expression, and pure moral feeling,-every excellence is here we will not attempt. To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, Let Alfred, through our earnestly attempted faithfulness, speak for himself. The translation is literal, Well,- ye children of men in mid earth! Every freeman should seek till he find That, which I spake of, good endless in worth ; These, which I sing of, the joys of the mind. Let him who is narrow'd and prison'd away By love of this middle earth empty and vain, Seek out for himself full freedom today, That soul feeding joys he may quickly attain. For, such of all toil is the only one goal, For sea-weary keels hythe-haven from woes, The great quiet dwelling that harbours the soul Still calm in the storm, and from strife a repose. That is the peace-place, and comfort alone Of all that are harm’d by the troubles of life, A place very pleasant and winsome to own After this turmoil of sorrow and strife. But right well I wot that no treasnre of gold Nor borders of gemstone, nor silvery store, Nor all of earth's wealth the mind's sight can unfold Or better its sharpness true joys to explore : But rather, make blind in the breast of each man The eyes of his mind than make ever more bright, For, sorry and fleeting as fast as they can Are all who in this flitting earth can delight. Yet wondrous the beauty and brightness is seen Of that which hath brighten'd and beautified all And afterward happily holds them in thrall. Himself will enlighten it Lord of life given ! May see the clear brightness of light from high heaven, Is darkness itself to the glory so bright Of souls of the happy for ever in light. Scarcely a single word of Alfred is to be found in Boethius : and the ode is in fact an independent poem. It is charming to take note how constantly our Christian King is looking forward to his heavenly inheritance. To the writer it has been true and deep delight thus to fill the mind with the pure philosophy of Alfred, and then to let his homilies flow out into these new shapes : as it were, gold, melted anew in an earthen crucible, and poured out into the popular moulds of modern metres. May this work be in its measure for good ! Alfred, in his free paraphrase of the more Horatian Boethius, and in the very few other fragments that remain to us of that first rate Head and Heart, is so full of Christian wisdom, moral beauty, excellent learning, piety, and power, that some small service cannot but be done to Good and Truth, by the publication of these Metres. XXII. OF THE INNER MIND, AND THE OUTER SIN. Quisquis profunda mente vestigat verum, - Cupitque nullis ille deviis falli. Se the æfter rihte Swa deoplice, 70 10 75 15 80 20 85 25 90 95 35 Ænig eorthlic thinog i He ærest sceal Secan on him selfum, That he sume hwile Ymbutan hine Æror sohte; Sece that siththan On his sefan innan; And forlæte an, Swa he oftost mæge, Ælcne ymbhogan Thy him unnet sie ; And gesamnige, Swa he swithost mæge, Ealle to thæm anum, His ingethonc. Gesecge his mod, That hit mæg findan, Eall on him innan, Thæt hit oftost nu, Ymbutan hit Ealneg seceth, Gooda æghwylc. He ongit siththan Yfel and unnet, Eal that he hæfde On his incofan, Æror lange; Efne swa sweotole, Swa he on tha sunnan mæg Eagum and weardum Onlocian. And hi eac ongit His ingethonc Leohtre and berhtre, Thonne se leoma sie Sunnan on sumera, Thonne swegles gim, Hador heofon-tungol, Hlutrost scineth. Forthæm thæs Jichoman Leahtras and hefignes And tha untheawas, Eallunga ne magon Of mode ation Monna ænegum, Rihtwisnesse. Theah nu rinca hwæm, Thæsilichoman, Leahtras and hefignes And untheawas Oft bysigen Monna mod-sefan, Mæst and swithost Mid thære yflan Oforgiotolnesse ; Mid gedwol-miste Dreorigne sefan Fortith mod foran Monna gehwelces, Thæt hit swa beohte ne mot Blican and scinan, Swa hit wolde gif Hit geweald ahte. Theah bith sum corn Sædes gehealden Symle on thære saule Sothfæstnesse, Thenden gadertang wunath Gast on lice. Thæs sædes corn Bith simle aweaht Mid ascunga, Eac siththan, Mid goodre lare, Gif hit growan sceal. Hu mæg ænig man Andsware findan Thinga æniges, Thegen mid gesceade, Theah hine rinca hwile Rihtwislice Æfter frigne, Gif he awuht nafath On his mod-sefan, Mycles ne lytles Rihtwisnesses, Ne geradscipes? Nis theah ænig man That te ealles swa Thæs geradscipes Swa bereafod sie, Thæt he ands ware Ænige ne cunne Findan on ferhthe, Gif he frugnen bith. Forthæm hit is riht spell, Thæt us reahte gio, Eald uthwita Ure Platon ; He cwæth thæt te æghwilc' Ungemyndig Rihtwisnesse, Hine hræthe sceolde Eft gewendan Into sinum Modes gemynde: He mæg siththan. On his run-cofan Rihtwisnesse Pindan on ferhte, Faste gehydde Mid gedræfnesse Dogora geh wilce, Modes sines, Mæst and swithost; And mid hefinesse His lichoman; And mid thæm bisgum, The on breostum styreth Mon on mode Mæla gehwylce. 100 40 105 45 110 50 115 55 120 60 125 65 130 The man that after right with care Will inwardly and deeply dive, Nor him from such good seeking drive, That which beyond he somewhile sought, 29 Essays This at the soonest, as he may, Such care were harm to him and sin; Then let him haste and hide away To this alone, his Mind within. Say to this mind, that it may find What oftest now it seeks around, All in, and to, itself assign'd Every good that can be found; He then will see that all he had In his mind's chamber thought and done, Was evil long afore and bad, Clearly as he can see the sun : But his own mind he shall see there Lighter and brighter than the ray Of heaven's star, the gem of air, The sun in clearest summer day. For that the body's lusts and crimes And all its heaviness in kind Utterly may not any times Wipe out right wisdom from man's mind : Though now in every man such wrong, Those lusts and crimes and fleshly weight, Worry the mind both loud and strong And make it half forget its state. And though the mist of lies may shade Man's dreary thought that it be dull And be no more so bright array'd An if 'twere pure and powerful, Yet always is some seed-corn held Of sturdy truth within the soul, While flesh and ghost together weld, And make one fixt and gather'd whole. By much asking quickened so, That it quickly learns to grow. |