When earth's fruitful plenty came
(Not as now,) to all the same;
When through all the world were there
No great halls of costly care;
No rich feasts of meat or drink;
Neither did they heed or think
Of such jewels, then unknown,
As our lordlings long to own;
Nor did seamen aye behold
Nor had heard of gems or gold.
More; with frugal mind they fared;
And for pleasures only cared,
As at Christ's and kindred's voice
They were bidden to rejoice.

Once in the day, at eventide,

They ate earth's fruits, and nought beside;
No wine they drank, their stoup was clear;
No cunning slave was mingling near
Meats and drinks, to glut their greed,
Or make the heated honeymead ;
No silk-sewn weeds wish'd they to wear,
Nor good-webs dyed with crafty care
Nor set on high with skilful power
The mighty dome, or lofty tower.
But, under the sweet shade of trees
They slept at all times well at ease,
And, when thirsting, gladly took
Water from the running brook;
Never trader wandered o'er
Seas to seek a foreign shore,
Never had one heard indeed
Of ships to till the briny mead;
Nowhere yet with blood of men
Was the earth besmitten then,
Nowhere had the sun beheld

Steel that struck, or wound that well'd.
Those who work'd an evil will

Won not worship for their ill;

All would then have loathed them sore:

O that this could be once more!

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.

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;

189

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,