And thy doing of deeds hath made thee a name everlasting.

Not without sadness thy joy, thy hopes with fear interwoven.
Ever, when worsted, thou madest thee ready to fight on the morrow,
Ever, when victor, the more didst thou dread thee to fight on the morrow—
Stained were thy garments with sweat, with gore thy falchion bepainted,
Marking how heavily weighed upon thee the burden of kingship.
Nay, for in all the wide world like thee we find not another,
Who, mid so many an ill, might breathing-space gain for a moment.
Never could foeman's steel his steel beat down from his hand-grip ;
Never was forged the blade that could end his toil with a sword-stroke.
Now, when the woes of his reign and his lifelong labours are over,
Christ be to him true Rest, be Christ his Kingdom unending."

§ 2. He was buried, as was meet, with kingly worship in the royal city of Winchester, in the Church of St. Peter, Prince of the Apostles,' 'in the New Minster, where, with the just, he awaiteth the garment of immortality and a glorious resurrection," when he shall once again be crowned." O reader, pray thou thus: "Christ, Redeemer, save Thou his soul.” “

§ 3. The Book of Hyde' mentions that he was at first buried in Winchester Cathedral, till 'through the folly of the canons,' who fancied that he 'walked,' his son Edward translated his remains to the New Minster, Hyde Abbey, which Alfred had himself founded. There his tomb of most precious porphyry '5 remained an object of veneration till broken up, along with many another royal and saintly sepulchre, by the greed of Henry VIII.

§ 4. But no tombstone was needed to keep the memory of Alfred green in the hearts of Englishmen. From age to age his name was handed on as the saint and hero that he was, and the echoes of his wisdom were passed from lip to lip, till every wise saying that found acceptance amongst English folk was fathered, whether truly or mistakenly, on him. Thus came into being that wonderful work, 'The Proverbs of Alfred," selections from which will most fittingly conclude our sketch For the Latin see Henry of Huntingdon, § 17.

* Florence of Worcester. • Ethelwerd.

Roger of Wendover.
5 Chronicle of St. Neots.

This poem is found in only two MSS.-one in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge, the other in that of Jesus College, Oxford. It has been published by Kemble, in his Dialogue of Solomon and Saturn,' and by Morris, in his 'Old English Miscellany.' I do not know of any translation; but that which I give here is practically word for word, and absolutely metre for metre. The whole series of the 'Proverbs' runs to several times the length of the extracts here rendered.

of his life. The poem in its present form dates from the twelfth or thirteenth century, but it may well be founded on something much older. And the words it puts into Alfred's mouth show, at least, a true insight into his heroic and saintly nature. Thus it runs :

Sat there at Seaford
Many a thane,

Many wise Bishops,

Much folk book-learned;

Proud were the earls there,

Noble the knights.

There was Earl Alfric,

Wise he in law-lore ;

There too was Alfred,

England's darling,
England's shepherd,

England's King.

Them 'gan he learn,
As now ye hear,
How they their life
Might bestmost lead.

Alfred was of England King,
Strong and skilled in everything;
He was King, and he was clerk,
Loved he full well God's work;
Wise in word,

And ware in deed:

Sure the wisest man was he
Of all folk that England's be.

Thus quoth Alfred,
England's joy :
'Would ye, my folk,
List now your Lord,
Then should ye wit
Of Wisdom's way;
How ye may this world's
Worship wield,

And eke your soul

To Christ may cleave.'

Wise were the words
That Alfred spake :
'Mildly I move you,
Dear my friends,

Poor and eke rich,
People of mine,

That all do fear

Our Christ and Lord.

Love Him and please Him
Who Lord is of Life ;
He the One Good,
Over all goodness;
He the One Wise,
Over all wisdom;
He the One Blest,
Over all blessing;
He the One Master,
Mildest of men ;
He the One Father,
He the One Helper,
Of each and all.
He the One Righteous,
So rich and so royal,
That nought of his need
That man shall fail

Who here on earth

Doth worship Him.'

Thus quoth Alfred,
England's stay:
'No King of right

'Neath Christ is throned,

But if of books

He wot the lore,
That he his writs
Can soothly read-
A lettered man ;
And look himself

How he his land

May hold with Law.'

'Earl is and Etheling1

Under the King,

The land to lead

With lawful deed;

Both clerk and knight

With even right,

Both poor and rich,

To judge 'mid each.

1I.., Prince.

Thus quoth Alfred :

'Hard is it to row

'Gainst the tide in his flow; So is it to toil

'Gainst the heart's own turmoil. Yet he that in youth

So to labour is fain,

World's wealth for to gain,

That in eld he may rest;

And eke 'mid his wealth
Aye worketh God's will;
His youth's hard spell
It hath sped him full well."

Thus quoth Alfred :

'If thou silver and gold

Hast to wield from of old,

:

Thus quoth Alfred :
'If thou in thine eld
Art wasted in wealth,

And no more canst lead thee
With power nor with might,
And no more hast strength
For to steer thee aright;
Then thank thy Lord
Of all His love,

And of all thine own life,

And the light of the day,

And of all the mirth
He maketh for man.
And whereso thou wendest,
Say this at the end :
Whate'er may befal me,
God's Will be done.

Thus quoth Alfred :
'Son of my heart, come,
Sit thee beside me,
And I will instruct thee

In tracks of truth.

My son, I do feel

That paleth my face,

That fadeth my hue,

That faileth my heart.
My days be nigh done;
Eftsoon must we part.
For I shall me wend
To the other world,