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King Alfred’s Version of the Consolations of Boethius. Done into Modern English, with an Introduction by Walter John Sedgefield Litt.D. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1900).

Author: Boethius
Translator: Walter John Sedgefield

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King Alfred’s Version of the Consolations of Boethius
Preface
Introduction
Summary of Contents
King Alfred’s Version of the Consolations of Boethius
Proem
Boethius and Theodoric
I
Ii
Iii
Iv
V
Vi
Vii
Viii
Ix
X
Xi
Xii
Xiii
Xiv
Xv
Xvi
Xvii
Xviii
Xix
Xx
Xxi
Xxii
Xxiii
Xxiv
Xxv
Xxvi
Xxvii
Xxviii
Xxix
Xxx
Xxxi
Xxxii
Xxxiii
Xxxiv
Xxxv
Xxxvi
Xxxvii
Xxxviii
Xxxix
Xl
Xli
Xlii
The Lays of Boethius
Prelude (not In Boethius. )
Lays

LAYS

I

(Not in Boethius.) Cf. p. 1.

’Twas long ago	when the eastern Goths
Sent from Scythia	their swarms of shieldmen,
With multitudes harried	many a nation.
Two tribes triumphant	tramped to the south.
The Goths in greatness	grew year by year;
Akin to the clansmen	kings were there twain,
Raedgod and Aleric;	they ruled in power.
O’er Jove’s mountain	came many a Goth
Gorged with glory,	greedy to wrestle
In fight with foemen.	The banner flashing
Fluttered on the staff.	Freely the heroes
All Italy over	were eager to roam,
The wielders of bucklers,	bearing onward
E’en from Jove’s mount	on to ocean,
Where in sea-streams	Sicily heth,
That mighty island,	most famous of lands.
Rudely the Roman	rule was shattered;
The shieldmen sacked	the glorious city;
Rome was ravaged;	Raedgod and Aleric
Carried the fortress.	Away fled the Caesar,
Aye, and his princes,	off to the Greeks.
The luckless left ones,	losing the combat,
To the Gothic foemen	gave up all,
Unwilling forfeited	their fathers’ treasures,
Their holy allegiance;	hard was the loss!
The hearts of the heroes	held with the Greeks,
If they durst follow	the folk’s foemen.
Thus things stood;	the folk was stressed
Many a winter,	till Weird appointed
That Theodoric	the thanes and nobles
Should lord it over.	This leader of them
Was claimed by Christ,	the king himself
Brought to baptism;	a blessed day
For the sons of Rome.	They sought right soon
Help from the high one;	he then vowed
To give the Romans	all rights olden,
Safe to sojourn	in their wealthy city,
While God him granted	the Goths’ dominion
To own and possess.	All this the prince broke,
Oath after oath;	Arian error
He loved better	than the law of the Lord.
The good Pope John	he judged in his anger,
Reft of his head;	a heinous deed!
Countless wrongs	were likewise wrought
By the Gothic leader	on each of the good.
In those days a leader	in Rome was living,
A high-born chieftain,	cherishing his lord,
While that the high-seat	was held by the Greeks;
A man most righteous.	He was ’mid the Romans
A giver of treasure,	glorious ever,
Wise toward this world,	wishful of honour,
Learned in booklore;	Boethius the name was
That this hero had,	that so highly was famed.
Time after time	he turned in his mind
The evil and insult	by alien princes
Grievously given.	To the Greeks he was true,
Rememb’ring the honours	and ancient rights
By his fathers aforetime	fully enjoyed,
Their love and kindness.	Then with cunning
He planned and brooded	how he might bring
The Greeks to his country,	that once more the Caesar
Might have full power	o’er his people.
Then to their former lords	letters of embassy
He sent in secret,	summoning them by God,
By their former faith,	forthwith to him
To speed Romewards;	Greek senators
Should rule the Romans,	their rights render
Free to the folk.	When he found this out,
Theodoric the Amuling,	the thane he had seized,
Charging the braves	that did his bidding
To hold fast the hero;	fierce was his heart,
The chieftain dreading.	Deep in a dungeon
Bolted and barred	he bade them cast him.
Then was the man’s mood	mightily troubled,
The mind of Boethius.	Long had he borne
High state worldly;	the harder it was
Bravely to bear	this bitter fortune.
Sad was the hero;	he hoped for no mercy,
Locked in prison;	past all comfort
On the floor he fell	with his face downwards,
Wofully spread,	his sorrow speaking,
Hopeless utterly,	ever weening
He should linger in fetters.	He called on the Lord
With cheerless voice,	and thus he chaunted.

II

Boeth. i. metr. 1. Cf. p. 2.

Ah! many a lay	once so merrily
I sang in my joy.	Now must I sighing,
Worn with weeping,	a woful outcast,
Sing words of sorrow.	Me hath this sobbing
And this wailing dazed,	so that no more ditties
Can I turn so featly,	though many tales
Once I wove,	when I was happy.
Oft now I find not	the words familiar,
I that in old times	oft made strange ones.
Me, wellnigh blind,	have these worldly blessings
Drawn in my folly	to this dim cavern,
And robbed me entirely	of reason and comfort
With their false faith,	when I had fain ever
To them trusted.	To me they have turned
Their backs, oh! cruelly,	and kept joy from me.
Ah! why were ye minded,	my friends of this world,
In speech or in song	to say I was happy
Here in this world?	The words are not true ones,
For worldly blessings	abide not always.

III

Boeth. i. metr. 2. Cf. p. 4.

Ah! it is fearful	and fathomless deep,
The mirky pit	where the mind toileth,
When the blasts of tempests	beat against it
Of worldly afflictions;	then in its fighting
Its own true light	it leaveth behind it,
And in woe forgetteth	the weal eternal.
It dasheth onward	into this world’s darkness,
Weary with sorrows.	So hath it now
This soul befallen,	for now it nought knoweth
Of good before God,	but great grief
From the world unfriendly;	it wanteth comfort.

IV

Boeth. i. metr. 5. Cf p. 5.

O Thou Creator	of bright constellations,
Of heaven and earth;	Thou on the high-seat
Eternal reignest	and the round heaven
All swiftly movest,	and through Thy holy might
The lights of heaven	makest to hear Thee,
E’en as the sun	scattereth darkness
Of the swart night time	through Thy strong power,
And with her pale beams	the bright stars
The moon doth humble,	through Thy might’s moving;
At whiles too she robbeth	the radiant sun
Of his full light,	when it befalleth
That they come together	by close compulsion.
So too the glorious	star of morning,
That we by its other name	star of evening
Oft hear called,	Thou constrainest
To follow the way	where the sun wendeth;
Every year	he must ever travel,
Fare before him.	O Father, Thou sendest
Long days in summer	with heat sultry;
To the winter also	wondrous short days
Hast Thou granted.	To the trees Thou givest
South-west breezes,	when the black tempest
Sprung from the north-east	had utterly stript them
Of every leaf	with its loathly wind.
Behold, all creatures	in the earth’s compass
Obey Thy hests;	the same do they in heaven
With mind and main,	save man only;
He oftenest worketh	in despite of Thy will.
Ah! Thou Eternal	and Thou Almighty
Author and Ruler	of all creation,
Pity the offspring	of Thy poor world,
Even this race of men,	through Thy mighty power.
Why, O God Eternal,	grantest Thou ever
That Fate at the will	of wicked mortals
Should turn herself	on earth so swiftly?
Oft to the guiltless	great harm she worketh.
The wicked are seated	in worldly kingdoms
Upon their high-seats,	trampling the holy
Under their feet;	no man may find out
Why Fate falleth	so foully awry.
So also are hidden	here in this world
In many a borough	brightest virtues,
Whereas the sinful	in every season
Treat most evilly	all those others
That are more righteous,	to rule more worthy.
False-faced guile	long hath gone
Wrapt up in wiles.	Now here in the world
Oaths basely broken	bring no scathe.
If Thou, O Chieftain,	wilt not check Fate,
But sufferest her	in self-will to remain,
Then this do I know,	that nations will doubt
Far o’er earth’s fields,	all but a few.
O my Sovereign,	Thou that seest
All worldly creatures,	with eyes of kindness
Look on mortals,	for they are moiling,
Battling here	in the world’s billows,
Poor folk of the earth;	pity them therefore.

V

Boeth. i. metr. 7. Cf. p. 10.

Thou mayst by the sun	see most clearly,
And by each of the other	orbs of heaven
That shine most brightly	over the boroughs,
If a dark cloud	cometh before them
They cannot give forth	such a bright gleam
Till the thick mist	grow thinner before them.
So too the south breeze	fiercely stirreth
The calm grey ocean	clear as glass;
Then mighty billows	mingle the waters,
Stir the whale-sea;	fierce waxeth ocean
That but shortly before	was blithe to look on.
Oft too the well-spring	is wont to trickle
From the hoar cliff,	cool and sparkling,
And onward flowing	a straight course followeth,
To its home fleeteth,	till there falleth upon it
A rock from the mountain,	that lieth in its midst
Rolled from the peak;	parted in twain
The rill is broken,	the brook’s clear water
Stirred and clouded;	the stream is turned
Away from its course,	cleft into runnels.
So now the darkness	that dimmeth thy heart
Wisheth to turn back	the light of my teaching,
And sorely trouble	thy spirit’s thoughts.
But if thou art willing,	as well thou mayst be,
The light of the truth	clearly to learn,
The brightness of faith,	then shalt thou forsake
Vain surfeit of pleasure,	profitless joys.
Thou shalt too forsake	the evil fear
Of worldly afflictions,	nor wax ever for them
Utterly hopeless;	no, nor have thyself
Weakened with wealth,	lest with it thou be
Brought to sorrow	through the sin of pride,
And too puffed up	by prosperous fortune,
By joys of the world.	Nor again too feebly
Lose all thy faith	in future good,
When in this world	the weight of afflictions
Beareth on thee sorely,	and thou art beset
With utter terror;	for ever it tideth
That a man’s breast	is bound most firmly
With dire confusion	if either of these dangers
Here may trouble him,	torture his spirit.
For both these hardships,	hand in hand,
A mist misleading	draw over the mind,
So that the sun eternal	its light may not send forth
For the black mists	until these be blown away.

VI

Boeth. ii. metr. 3. Cf. p. 18.

Then Wisdom again	unlocked her word-hoard,
Her tale of sooth	sang in these words:
‘While the bright sun	most clear is beaming,
Gleaming in heaven,	gloom enwrappeth
Over the world	all other bodies;
For their light is nought,	nothing at all,
When set against	the sun’s great brightness.
When softly bloweth	from south and west
The wind ’neath heav’n,	then soon wax
The flowers of the field,	fain to be able.
But the stiff storm-wind,	when it strongly bloweth
From out of the north-east,	how soon it nippeth
The rose’s beauty!	By the northern blast
The spacious ocean	is helpless spurned
Till strongly heaving	it striketh the beach.
Alas, that in the world	nothing weareth
Firm and lasting	long on this earth!’

VII

Boeth. ii. metr. 4. Cf. p. 25.

Then did Wisdom	follow her wont,
Glee-words chaunted,	changed song for speech,
Of tales of sooth	sang yet another:
‘Never on high hill	had she ever heard
That any of men	might make to stand
A roof-fast hall;	nor need any hope
To have the wit	to mingle wisdom,
To put it together	with pride o’erweening.
Heardest thou ever	that any of mortals
On hills of sand	his house could stablish
Firm to last him?	Nor can any mortal
Build up wisdom,	where the hill-side
Is spread with covetise.	Quickly the rain
Is sucked by the sand;	so do the great ones,
With their bottomless greed	of goods and glory.
They drink to the dregs	this dross so fleeting,
Yet the thirst of their craving	is never cooled.
A man may not build	a house on a mountain
That may long tarry;	soon the tempest
Swift on it sweepeth.	Sand is useless
In deluge of rain	to him that dwelleth
In the house as master;	it melteth away,
In the rain sinketh.	So with every man;
His inmost mind	is mightily shaken,
Stirred from its station,	when the strong winds
Of earthly troubles	toss and tease it,
Or when the ruthless	rain of affliction,
Boundless distress,	dasheth upon it.
But he that ever	wisheth to own
True joy eternal	must turn and flee
This world’s beauty.	Then let him build
The house of his soul	so that he find
The Rock of Humility,	hard and fastest,
Sure foundation;	he shall not slip
Though that the tempest	of worldly troubles
Or flood of worries	fiercely assail it.
For in that Vale of the Lowly	the Lord Himself
Ever abideth,	owneth His Home;
And there too Wisdom	in memory waiteth.
A life without sorrow	he always leadeth
That chooseth wisdom;	it never changeth,
Since he disdaineth	delights of the world,
From every evil	utterly free;
He hopeth in eternity	hereafter to come.
Him then everywhere	God Almighty
Keepeth always,	ever unceasing,
Fast abiding	in the blessed joys
Of his own mind,	through the Master’s grace,
Though oft the winds	of worldly troubles
Batter and bruise him,	or never bating
Cares be fretting,	when the fierce gusts
Of worldly blessings	blow unkindly,
Though him ever	the endless worry
Of earthly fortune	sore confound him.’

VIII

Boeth. ii. metr. 5. Cf. p. 33.

After Wisdom	these words had spoken,
Clearly set forth,	soon she began
Sooth words to sing,	and thus she spake:
‘Oh! the ancient days	for all earth-dwellers
Throughout the world	were ever the best.
Then was each man	ever contented
With fruits of the earth;	’tis otherwise now.
Not then in the world	were wealthy homes,
Nor many kinds	of meat and drink;
Nor aught of raiment	recked men then,
In these days to men	of all things dearest;
For then such was not	seen as yet,
Never the sea-folk	had seen it at all.
No, nor anywhere	of it had heard.
Ah! then the sin of lust	they longed not to do,
But in degree	they duly followed
The call of nature	as Christ appointed.
But one meal daily	they always made
Of the earth’s increase,	at hour of even,
Of plants of the wood.	No wine they drank
Bright from the bowl;	none could boast
Skill to mingle	drink with his meat,
Water with honey,	nor to fashion by sewing
Clothing of silk;	nor had they cunning
In costly stuffs;	nor stood there halls
Cleverly planned;	but it was their custom
In every season	to sleep in the open
In the deep tree-shade.	They drank burn-water
Cool from the spring.	Never did chapman
See o’er the sea-surge	the shore of strange land;
Nor had men heard	of the harrying ship-host;
No, nor was fighting	familiar to mortals.
Not as yet was the earth	anywhere stained
With the blood of a man	nor the dye of the blade,
Nor even one wounded	had any man witnessed
Under the sun.	So too none was worthy
Held in the world	if his will seemed
Evil unto men;	by all was he loathed.
Oh! were it true,	or would God but grant
That here on earth	in our days now,
O’er the wide world,	man’s wont was such
Under the sun!	But now ’tis more sinful,
For covetous greed	so cloggeth the soul
Of every man	that he heedeth not other things,
And in the mind boiling	it burneth ever,
This curse of covetise,	never contented,
Black and bottomless	blazeth smould’ring,
E’en as the mountain	that mortals call
By name of Etna;	this on an island,
Even Sicily,	with sulphur burneth,
Hell-fire widely	hight by mortals,
For unceasing	it smould’reth ever,
And all around it	the rest of the land
It fiercely blasteth	with blaze consuming.
Ah! who was the first	that filled with greed
Dwelt in the world,	and dug the ground
In quest of gold	and curious jewels?
Wealth did he find,	fatal to many,
In the world hidden	in water or earth.

IX

Boeth. ii. metr. 6. Cf. p. 40.

We all have heard	what hateful deeds
Far and near	Nero wrought,
King of the Romans,	when that his rule
Was first under heaven,	fatal to many.
The fierce one’s madness	men widely knew,
His lawless lust	and laches unnumbered,
His sins and murders,	misdeeds many,
The cursed wiles	of that wicked one.
He bade for his sport	with fire destroy
The city of Rome	that was the seat
Of full dominion,	for in his folly
He fain would try	whether the fire,
Flaming brightly,	would burn as long,
Would rage as red,	as the Romans told
That Troy town	was of old o’ertaken
By the brightest of flames	that longest burned
In homes under heaven.	A hideous thing,
To take his pleasure	in such perilous sport,
Nought else gaining,	this only regarding,
To make his power	far over peoples
Widely renownèd,	over the nations.
It likewise betided	once on a time
That this same man	sent to murder
All the rulers	of the Senate of Rome,
And all the best	by birth as well
That he could find	among his folk;
And his own brother	besides he bade,
Yea, and his mother,	be murdered with swords,
Killed with blade-edge.	He himself butchered
His bride with the brand,	and ever was blither,
Gayer of mood,	the more of such murder,
Such hateful wrong,	he wrought on mortals.
Nought did he heed	whether hereafter
The mighty Master	would mete out vengeance,
Wreak on the wicked	their wrongful deeds,
But in his soul was glad	of his guile and sins,
Bloodthirsty ever.	But notwithstanding,
He governed all	of this glorious world,
Where air and sea	encircle the land
And the deep sea enringeth	this realm of mortals,
The seats of men,	south, east and west,
Right to the northmost	nesses of earth.
All bowed to Nero,	for need or pleasure;
None was there of men	but must obey him.
When his pride was highest	’twas a pretty jest
How the kings of the earth	he killed and harried!
Dost thou gainsay	that God Almighty
Could most readily	wrest his power
From the boastful scourge,	and strip him bare
Of all dominion	through the might eternal,
Or utterly curb	the course of his sins?
Oh, that He would only,	as He easily might,
All such felony	fain forbid him!
Oh, ’twas no light yoke	which that lord planted,
A grievous annoy,	on the necks of his thanes,
Of all his lieges	that in his lifetime
O’er this brittle world	were fated to bide!
He with the gore	of guiltless men
Fouled his sword-blade,	full many’s the time.
Thus we see clearly,	as we have oft said,
That dominion	can do no good
If he that hath gained it	have no good will.

X

Boeth. ii. metr. 7. Cf. p. 47.

If any living man	longeth for glory,
And fame without gain	would fain have for his own,
Then with my words	would I beseech him
On all sides about him	far out to spy,
Clearly to look,	south, east, and west,
And consider how broad	with the clouds all about
Is the vault of the sky.	So may the wise man
Easily deem	this earth of ours
By the side of that other	wondrously small,
Though to the witless	wide it seemeth,
To straying men	strong in its place.
Yet may the sage	deep in his spirit
Feel great shame	for the lust of glory,
When the thirst for fame	fiercely presseth,
Although he may not	make it to spread,
In no wise whatever,	over these narrow
Quarters of earth.	How idle is glory!
Why ever, O proud ones,	take ye pleasure
To bow your own necks	beneath the yoke
Heavy and grievous,	glad that ye may?
Why do ye labour	so long in vain,
Aim to possess	fame in the world,
Over the nations,	more than ye need?
Though it befell	that southward and north
The uttermost denizens,	dwellers of earth,
In many a tongue	intoned your praises;
Though you were known	for noblest birth,
Worshipped for wealth,	waxing in splendour,
Dear for your valour;	Death heedeth these not
When heaven’s Governor	giveth him leave.
But the wealthy man,	and the wanting in goods,
Death maketh equal,	in all things alike.
Where now are the wise one’s,	Weland’s bones,
The worker in gold,	once greatest in glory?
I ask where the bones	of Weland are buried;
For never any	that on earth liveth
May lose any virtue	lent him by Christ;
Nor may one poor wretch	be robbed with more ease
Of his soul’s virtue,	than may the sun
Be swung from his path,	or the swift heavens
Moved from their courses	by the might of a man.
Who now is aware	of wise Weland’s bones,
In what barrow lying	they litter the ground?
Where is the senator	so mighty of Rome,
The bold champion	of whom we chaunt,
Head of their army,	he that the name
Amid the burghers	of Brutus bore?
Where is the wise one	that wished for fame,
The people’s shepherd,	steadfast of purpose,
That was a sage	in each thing several,
Keen and the cunning,	Cato was hight?
Many long days ago	these men departed;
No man knoweth	now where they be.
What is left of them	but their fame alone?
Too slight is the glory	of such teachers.
For they were worthy,	were those heroes,
Of more in the world.	But worse it is now,
When over the earth,	in every quarter,
They and those like them	are little spoken of,
And some not a few	are clean forgotten,
And their fame cannot	keep them longer
Known to all men,	noble heroes.
Though ye now deem,	desire strongly,
That long in the land	your life may last,
How ever the better	can ye be or seem?
For Death no man leaveth,	though long it seem,
His life-days told,	if the Lord it alloweth.
But what profit	doth a mortal possess
In this world’s glory,	if he be gripped
By death everlasting	after this life?

XI

Boeth. ii. metr. 8. Cf. p. 50.

There is one Creator,	we cannot doubt,
And He controlleth	every creature
Of heaven and of earth,	and of the high seas,
And all the things	that therein dwell,
Of those unseen,	and likewise of such
As with our eyes	we are able to see,
Of all creation;	Almighty is He.
Him humbly court	all things created
That of their service	have any knowledge,
And none the less	of those that know not
That they minister	unto the Master.
In us He created	ways and customs,
And for all His creatures	peace unaltered,
Never ceasing	in its nature,
When that He wished	whatever pleased Him,
As long as He liked	should live and last.
So it shall be,	and for ever abide;
For never they may,	the moving creatures,
Cease from their motion,	sink into rest,
Swerve from the way	that the Warden of heaven
Hath appointed for all	in order unchanging.
The King of all things	hath His creation
Bound with His bridle;	both hath He done,
Governed each one	and guided them too,
So that they may not	against the Master’s will
Ever cease moving,	nor ever again
Go any more	than the Guarder of glory
Will grant unto them	His reins of guidance.
He hath with His bridle	bound earth and heaven,
And the whole circle	of deep sea-waters.
Thus hath He curbed,	the King of heaven,
With His control,	all of His creatures,
So that the one	striveth with other,
And loth to his fellow	fast doth cleave,
Firm upholdeth,	fast enclaspeth,
Lest they dash asunder.	For ever their duty
Again to circle	on the self-same journey
That at the first	the Father appointed,
And ever renewed	again to revive.
So is it fashioned,	the framework ancient,
That warring in hate	the hostile creatures
Fast and for ever	firm peace maintain.
Thus fire and water,	firm land and ocean,
And things many more,	in just the same manner
Over the wide world	are warring together;
Yet can they keep	their course of service,
Fellowship holding	firm and abiding.
Nor is it merely	matter of wonder
That things full of hate	fare together,
Remaining fellows;	more fit for marvel
That none of them ever	can live without other,
But every thing made	his opposite meeteth
Under the heavens,	that humbleth his pride
Ere that it grow	too great to be borne.
He hath, the Almighty,	to every creature
Appointed its course	that it must keep;
Growth for plants,	green for leaves
That in autumn later	languish and fall.
Winter bringeth	very cold weather;
Swift are its winds;	summer then cometh,
The warm weather;	Lo! the wan night
Is lit by the moon,	till the morn is brought
To men by the sun	o’er this spacious world.
He hath, the same God,	to sea and land
Their boundaries fixed;	the flood dareth not
Over earth’s borders	her sway to broaden
For the tribe of fishes,	without the Lord’s favour;
Nor may she ever	the threshold of earth
Lightly o’ertread;	nor may the tides either
Bear the water	over earth’s borders.
These are the commands	that the glorious King,
The Bright Life-Giver,	doth let while He will
Keep within bounds	His noble creatures;
But when the Eternal	and the Almighty
Looseth the reins	that rule all creatures,
Even the bridle	wherewith He bound
All that He fashioned	at the first creation
(By the bridle we speak of	we seek to betoken
The case where things	are all conflicting):
If the Lord letteth	the bridle loosen,
Forthwith they all leave	love and peace,
The friendly union	of their fellowship.
All things whatever	their own will follow,
All world-creatures	shall war together,
Till this our earth	utterly perish,
And so also other things,	in the same fashion,
By their own nature	become as nought.
But the same God	that governeth all things,
Bringeth together,	many folk bindeth,
And firmly uniteth	in friendship’s bonds;
He linketh in wedlock	the love that is pure
In peaceful mateship.	So too the Mighty One
Fellow to fellow	firmly joineth,
So that their friendship	forth and for ever
They hold, and their faith	fast undoubting,
Their peace unvarying.	O God of victory,
Most happy indeed	were mankind’s lot,
If but their hearts	could hold their course
Steadily steered	by Thy strong might,
And evenly ordered	as the others are also,
The world’s creatures!	Yea, it were truly
Right merry for men,	might it so be!

XII

Boeth. iii. metr. 1. Cf. p. 54.

Whoso fertile land	fain would till,
Let him promptly	pluck from the field
Fern and thorn,	and furze-bush also,
The weeds, in all places	eager to injure
The wheat clean-sprinkled,	lest it sproutless
Should lie on the land.	To all folk likewise
This next example	no less suiteth:
The comb of the honey	cannot but seem
To each son of men	sweeter by half,
If he have tasted	before the honey
Aught that is bitter.	Even thus also
To every mortal	more welcome by far
Is gentle weather,	when just before
Storms have assailed him,	and the stiff wind
Out of the north-east.	No man would reckon
Daylight a blessing	if the dark night
Had not for mortals	mustered terrors.
So of earth-dwellers	to each it seemeth
That blessedness true	is ever the better,
More winsome by far,	the more he of woe,
Of cruel hardships,	here endureth.
So thou the sooner	may’st in thy soul
The truest of blessings	trace more clearly,
And to their source	soonest arrive,
If first and foremost	forth from thy breast,
Root and branch,	thou upwrenchest
Happiness false,	e’en as the farmer
From his field plucketh	ill weeds a plenty.
Then, I warrant thee,	thou wilt clearly
Forthwith recognize	real blessings,
And thou wilt never have	heed for aught else,
When all plainly	thou dost perceive them.

XIII

Boeth. iii. metr. 2. Cf. p. 60.

In song will I again	send forth the tidings,
How the Almighty,	all things’ Ruler,
With bridle urgeth,	bendeth at will
His creatures with might	and due measure,
Marvellous well	maketh them hold.
The Wielder of heaven	hath welded together,
Wrapt all his creatures	round and about,
Fixed with fetters,	so that they fail ever
To find any road	to wrest themselves free.
And yet every creature	courseth along,
Onward bending,	bound for its goal,
Seeking the kind	that the King of angels,
The Father at first,	firmly appointed.
So now all things	are thitherward moving,
The spacious creation,	save certain angels,
Save man also.	Many, too many
Dwellers in the world	war with their nature!
Though thou a she-lion	should meet in the land,
A winsome creature	wondrously tame,
Loving her master	with lively affection,
And yet every day	dreading him also,
If it befall	that savour of blood
She ever tasteth,	truly none needeth
Ever to hope	that she will hold fast
To her tameness after;	well do I trow,
New as it is,	no more she will heed it,
But her wild wont	will soon remember,
The way of her fathers.	Fierce she beginneth
To rend her fetters,	to roar and growl,
And first she biteth,	before all others,
Her own house-master,	and hastily thereafter
Each single man	that she may meet;
Naught she leaveth	that owneth life,
Nor beast nor man,	mangling all she findeth.
Thus too the wood-birds,	wondrous gentle,
Truly tame,	if they come to the trees
In the heart of the holt,	soon they heed not
Those that taught them,	who long time before
Trained them and tamed them.	Wild in the trees
Ever thereafter	their ancient nature
They gladly follow,	though fain would their teachers
With cunning tricks	offer them tempting
Even the food	that in former days
To tameness enticed;	the twigs so pleasant
Seem to their minds,	the meat they heed not,
So winsome for them	when woodland soundeth,
When they can hear	the piping choir
Of other song-birds;	then do they send
Their own notes forth.	All together
The sweet song raise;	the wood is ringing.
So too with each tree	whose nature ’tis
That in the grove	it groweth highest,
Though that thou bend	a bough to the ground,
It upward leapeth	when thou leavest
The wood to its will;	it wendeth to its kind.
So too the sun	when that it sinketh,
Noon long past;	the shining lamp
Hasteneth sinking,	on his unseen journey
Ventureth by night;	then in the north-east
To men appeareth,	to earth-dwellers bringeth
Clear-bright morning,	and o’er men mounteth,
Upward ever,	until he cometh
To the topmost station	where he highest standeth.
Thus every creature	with all its might,
Through this wide world,	wendeth and hasteneth
With all endeavour,	eager to come
Once more to its kind	as soon as it can.
On earth there now liveth	no single creature
That craveth not	one day to come
Back to its home	whence it once hied.
Here no care racketh,	here rest is eternal;
’Tis God Almighty,	as all men know.
Over the earth now	there liveth no creature
That spinneth not round	and on itself turneth,
E’en as a wheel;	for it so whirleth
That at last it standeth	in its ancient station;
And ever as soon	as it hath spun round,
When all its round	is run to the end,
Then duly again	it shall do what it did,
And be yet again	what it was of yore.

XIV

Boeth. iii. metr. 3. Cf. p. 65.

What availeth the greedy one	in earth’s goods wealthy,
What boot for his mind,	though much he owneth
Of gold and of gems,	and every thing good,
And countless possessions;	and though his ploughs till
Each day for him	a thousand acres?
What though this mid-earth,	and this race of men,
Under the sun,	south, west, and east,
In his dominion	are all dependent,
When none of his trappings	can he take away hence
Out of this world,	no, not one more
Of his hoarded treasures	than he brought hither?

XV

Boeth. iii. metr. 4. Cf. p. 69.

Though the unrighteous	evil monarch,
Nero the king,	decked him anew
In fairest raiment	in wondrous fashion,
With gold adorned,	and goodly jewels,
Yet through the world	by all men of wisdom
In the days of his life	he was loathed and scorned,
Filled with all sin.	This foe of men
To all his darlings	dealt high favours;
Yet I cannot conceive	how they could hold
Themselves aught the better.	Though for a season
He chose them without virtue,	this most witless king,
Yet no wise man	worshipped them the more.
Though the man of folly	make himself king,
How can he reckon,	the man of right reason,
That he is aught better,	or even so seemeth?

XVI

Boeth. iii. metr. 5. Cf. p. 73.

He that seeketh power	must first strive
That he may of himself	in his mind within
Lordship compass,	lest he may be ever
To his sinful ways	utterly subject.
From out of his spirit	let him speedily pluck
The manifold cares	that carry no profit;
Let him cease a while	his mournful sighing
For his evil fortune;	though all be his,
This world of ours,	where’er begirdled
By ocean-waters,	to him only given,
As far away	as in the west
Outermost lieth	an isle in ocean,
Where never is night	known in summer,
Nor is the day	in winter divided,
Into times parted,	Tile (Thule) men call it—
Though that a man	be sole master
Of all this island,	and from thence onward
E’en to the Indies	out in the east—
Yea, though all this	be his own to govern,
How is his might	any the more,
If of himself	control he hath not,
Nor of his thoughts,	nor thoroughly strive
Well to beware	in word and in deed
Of all the sins	of which we were speaking?

XVII

Boeth. iii. metr. 6. Cf. p. 75.

All earth-dwellers	one origin had,
All men of the land,	one like beginning;
From one pair only	all proceeded,
From a man and woman,	within the world;
And to this day even	all men alike,
The base and the high ones,	are born in the world.
Nor is that a marvel,	for all men know
That there is one God	of all world-creatures,
Lord of mankind,	Father and Maker.
He the sun lendeth,	light out of heaven,
To moon and stars;	on earth He made men,
And brought to the body	in the beginning
The soul in union;	under the sky
Folk He created	all fully equal.
Why are ye therefore	yourselves o’er others
Placing ever,	proud without reason,
When none ye are able	to meet not noble?
Why are ye boasting	now of your birth?
In the mind only	of every man lieth
The real nobility	whereof I reason,
Not in the flesh	of the folk of earth.
But every mortal	that is utterly,
Merely subject	to his sinful ways,
Soonest leaveth	life’s Creator;
Nor doth he heed	his own high nature,
No, nor the Father	that first him fashioned.
For this the Almighty	removeth his honour,
So that henceforth	here in the world
He goeth dishonoured,	nor cometh to glory.

XVIII

Boeth. iii. metr. 7. Cf. p. 77.

Alas! that wrongful	unrighteous desire,
Frenzied lewdness	leadeth to this,
That of all mankind	it mazeth the mind,
Of each and all men,	wellnigh utterly.
Lo! the wild bee	is wise of nature,
Yet must perish	all in a moment,
If in her anger	aught she stingeth.
So too a man’s soul	soon shall die,
If that the body	becometh baser
By carnal desire,	unless there come first
Regret to his heart	ere he hence wendeth.

XIX

Boeth. iii metr. 8. Cf p. 80.

Oh! sore is the folly,	consider it who will,
And full of peril	for every person,
That wretched mortals	utterly mazeth,
And far from the right road	rapidly leadeth!
Have ye the will	to seek in the woodland
Bright red gold	among green trees?
Well do I know	that no wise man
Will seek it there,	since there it is not,
Nor look in vineyards	for lustrous gems.
Why do ye not hang	nets on the hill-tops
When ye would fain	fishes capture,
Salmon and herrings?	It seemeth likely
That dwellers on earth,	all of them, know,
Men of sense,	that such live not there.
Will ye go hunting,	with hounds follow,
In the salt sea,	when ye would seek
Harts and hinds?	Hast thou not knowledge
That such as these	thou must seek in forests
More oft by far	than out in ocean?
Marvellous it is	that all men know
That by the sea-shore	search must be made,
And by river-beaches,	for brightest jewels,
White and crimson,	and of every colour.
Yea, they know also	where it is needful
Fishes to seek,	and many such things,
The wealth of the world.	Well they do so,
Men all yearning,	year’s end to year’s end.
But of all things	this is most wretched,
That fools have become	so utterly blind,
In midst of error,	that in mind they cannot
Readily tell	where blessings eternal,
Happiness true,	are hidden away,
For they will not follow	in their footsteps
Nor seek the blessings;	reft of sense,
In this frail life	they think to find it,
True Happiness,	God Himself.
I know no means	whereby I may
Within my breast	blame as severely
Such men’s folly,	as fain I would do;
Nor can I tell thee	with full clearness;
For they are feebler	and more foolish,
More severed from blessing,	than I can set forth.
Wealth and possessions,	these they wish for,
And men’s worship	they are eager to win.
When they have compassed	what their mind craveth,
Then do they witless	ween in their folly
That True Happiness	they have at last.

XX

Boeth. iii. metr. 9. Cf. p. 87.

O my Master,	Thou art Almighty,
Great and noble,	in glory famous;
And Thou art wonderful	to all with wisdom!
O Thou God Eternal	of all creation,
Thou hast wondrously	well created
Unseen creatures,	and also those
That are seen of men!	Softly Thou rulest
The bright creation	with Thy craft
And power of wisdom.	Thou to this world
From first beginning	forth to the ending
Hast dealt out seasons,	as it most suited,
In regular order,	such that they ever
Are faring out,	or else returning.
Thou Thy creatures	that cannot move
Unto Thy will	wisely compellest,
Thyself abiding	still and stirless,
And unchanging	for ever and ever.
None is mightier,	none more famous,
Nor midst all creatures	is Thy match to be found.
And as yet never	hast Thou felt need
Of all the works	which Thou hast wrought,
But by Thy will	all Thou hast worked,
And with the power	that Thou possessest
Thou hast made the world	and every wight;
Yet no need hadst Thou,	none whatever,
Of all this grandeur.	’Tis great, the nature
Of Thy goodness,	regard it who will;
For they are one only	in every wise,
Thou and Thy goodness.	This is Thine own,
For not from without	to Thee hath it come.
But this I guess surely,	that Thy goodness is
Goodness almighty,	Thyself, O God;
It is unlike	ours in nature;
From outside cometh	all we contain
Of good in the world,	from God Himself.
Thou hast no anger	to aught conceived,
For to Thee nothing	knoweth likeness;
No, nor even	is aught more crafty;
For Thou all goodness	by Thy contriving,
Alone in Thy counsel	carried it out.
Ere Thee there was not	any creature
Either to do	or to leave undone;
But without pattern,	Prince of mankind,
God Almighty,	all Thou wroughtest,
All very good.	Thou art Thyself
The Highest Good.	Ah! Thou, holy Father,
After Thy will	the world createdst,
This earth with Thy might	madest to be,
O Chief of hosts,	as Thou didst choose,
And with Thy will	wieldest all things.
So Thou, true God,	Thyself grantest
All good that is;	for long ago
Thou all Thy creatures	first createdst
Strongly alike;	yet some there were
Not like in nature.	One name Thou gavest,
One name only,	to all together,
World under sky.	O God of splendour!
This single name	Thou partedst since,
Father, into four:	first the earth,
Second water,	part of the world,
Thirdly fire,	and fourthly air;
These four together	form the world.
Yet each of these four	hath its own birthplace,
Each possesseth	its proper station,
Though each of them	be with the other
Much commingled,	and with the might also
Of the Father Almighty	firmly united,
In harmony single,	smoothly together,
By Thy command,	O kindly Father,
So that none of them	o’er another’s bounds
Dareth trespass,	for dread of the Lord,
But these servants together	suffer union,
The King’s champions,	chill with heat,
Wet with dryness;	yet are they warring.
Water and earth	all increase bring,
Cold in their ways	the one and the other;
Water wet and cold	round the land windeth,
The all-green earth,	yet either is cold.
Air is a mixture	in the midst dwelling;
Nought should we wonder	that it is warm and cold,
The wet cloudbank	by the wind blended;
For midmost it lieth,	as men hear tell,
’Tween fire and earth.	Full many know
That highest o’er earth	of all things created
Fire liveth,	and land is lowest.
Oh, ’tis wonderful,	Chief of war-hosts,
That with Thy bare thought	Thou bringest to pass
That to every creature	with clear distinction
Thou hast fixed its marches,	yet hast not mixed them!
Lo! for the water	wet and cold
The land as a floor	firm hast Thou laid;
For never quiet,	to every quarter
Far would it flow,	feeble and yielding;
’Twould never be able,	for a truth do I know,
To stand by itself,	but the earth it supporteth.
And some of it also	sucketh adown,
So that thereafter	it may for the soaking
Be washed with showers.	Wherefore leaf and grass
Broad over Britain	are blooming and growing,
A boon to mortals.	The cold earth bringeth
Countless fruits	of marvellous kinds,
For with the water	wet it becometh.
But if this were not so,	then would it certainly
Dry up to dust,	and then be driven
By the wind afar,	as oft it befalleth
That over the land	ashes are blown.
On earth nothing	were able to live,
Nor would it any more	enjoy the water,
Nor dwell in it ever	by any device,
For mere coldness,	if Thou, King of angels,
Somewhat with fire	the land and sea-stream
Had not mingled,	and meetly measured
Cold with heat	by Thy cunning power,
So that fire cannot	lurid consume
Earth and sea,	though it be seated
Firmly in either,	the Father’s old work.
None the less marvel	to me it seemeth
That earth and ocean	are all unable,
Though both cold creatures,	by any contrivance
Fully to quench	the fire within them,
Therein planted	by the Lord’s power.
Now this is a property	possessed by waters,
To live upon earth	and in the clouds also,
And even on high	above the heavens.
Then the rightful	region of fire,
Its native home,	is high o’er all creatures
That we may behold	o’er this wide world;
Though it is mingled	with every member
Of world-creatures,	it cannot avail
To deal to one of them	deadly damage,
Save by the leave	of our Life-Giver,
Even the Eternal	Almighty God.
More heavy is earth	than other creatures,
More stoutly welded;	for during a space
Beneath creation	it nethermost lay,
Save only the firmament	that this broad fabric
Outside and around	each day circleth,
Yet never toucheth	the earth anear,
Nor may it in one place	more than another
Nearer reach;	round it speedeth
Above and beneath,	yet equally near.
Every creature	whereof we recount
Hath for itself	its separate home;
Yet is it likewise	linked with others,
Nor may one live	lonely ever,
Though dimly seen	be their dwelling together.
Thus earth in fire	and water is found;
The poor of wit	have pains to see it,
But to the wise	well it is known.
So too is fire fixed	fast in water,
And in the stones	still it lurketh;
’Tis hard to see,	’tis there, however.
The Father of angels	hath bound the fire
So fast and firmly	that it cannot fly
Again to the region	where the rest of the fire
High o’er this world	in its home dwelleth.
Soon it forsaketh	this frail creation,
O’ercome by cold,	if it seeketh its country;
Yet every creature	craveth to go
Where its kin it findeth	most crowded together.
Thou hast establish’d	through Thy strong might,
King of war-hosts,	in wondrous wise
The earth so firmly	that she inclineth
Nought to one side,	nor may she sink
This way nor that way	more than she was wont,
By nought upheld	of earthly nature.
It is equally easy	upward or downward
For this earth of men	to move at will;
This is most like	to an egg, where lieth
The yolk in the middle,	yet the shell moveth
Around outside;	so standeth the world
Still in its station;	with the streams round it,
The stirring floods,	the air and stars,
While the gleaming shell	round all glideth
Every day,	and long hath done so.
O God of the nations!	of threefold nature
A soul Thou hast given us,	that Thou since
Movest and guidest	through Thy strong might,
So that no less	thereof liveth
In a single finger,	even the smallest,
Than in the whole body.	But a little ago
I clearly sang	that the soul was
In every thane	a threefold creature,
For all sages	this do say,
That three natures are seen	in every soul;
Passion first cometh,	second desire;
The third is by nature	nobler than the others,
Reason we call it;	it causeth no shame,
For the beasts have it not,	but to man it belongeth.
Countless creatures	contain the two others;
Nearly every beast	boasteth desire,
And likewise passion	each possesseth;
Wherefore mankind,	over the world,
Has other creatures	all surpassed;
For what men have	the others have not,
E’en that single virtue	of which we have sung.
This mighty reason	in every man
Shall ever subdue	desire to itself,
And likewise passion	hold in its power.
She with thought	the mind of a thane,
And with reflection	shall rule in all things.
She hath most might	in man’s spirit,
And is most perfect	of all his powers.
Lo! Thou the Soul,	Sender of triumph,
High King of nations,	thus didst create,
So that it turneth	and turneth about,
Round itself moving,	e’en as all moveth,
The swift firmament	fleetly whirling,
Every day,	by the Lord’s great doing,
This earth encircling.	So doth man’s soul;
Like to a wheel	she whirleth round herself,
Ofttimes thinking	of that which is earthly,
The Lord’s creatures	daily and nightly;
Sometimes in thought	she seeketh herself,
At others giveth heed	to God Eternal,
Her own Creator.	In course she goeth
Most like to a wheel,	on herself whirling.
When deeply she museth	on Him who made her,
Then up she is raised	over herself;
But in her own self	she ever abideth,
When in her fancy	she followeth herself.
Lastly she falleth	beneath herself far
When she admireth	these frail things earthly,
And loveth them all	more than law eternal.
O God of ages,	Thou gavest a home
In heaven to souls;	Thou sendest them freely
Glorious gifts,	God Almighty,
In measure fitting	the merits of each!
These all are beaming	bright in the heavens
In the clear night,	but nevertheless
Not equal in light;	lo! we see often,
When serene is the night,	the stars in heaven,
Not all beaming	with equal brightness.
O God Everlasting!	Thou didst also unite
A thing of heaven	to the earthly here,
Soul to body;	ever since they abide,
Both the eternal	and earthly together,
The soul in the flesh.	See, ever to Thee
They yearn to go hence,	for from Thee hither
They had their source,	and shall seek Thee again.
But the body of man	must ever abide
Here on the earth,	for coming from her
He grew in the world.	Together they were
No longer nor less	than to them was allowed
By the Almighty,	who ages aforetime
Made them comrades;	the true King is He.
He fashion’d the land,	and filled it thereafter
With manifold races,	as men have told me,
And sorts of beasts,	mankind’s Saviour.
Then did He sow	many a seed
Of trees and plants	in the tracts of earth.
Grant to our minds,	God Eternal,
That they may to Thee,	Master of all things,
Through these miseries	mount to heaven,
And from these cares,	kindly Father,
Ruler of nations,	may rise to Thee;
That then with eyes open	we may be able
With the eyes of the mind,	through Thy aid mighty,
The fount to gaze on	of all goodness,
Thyself to view,	victorious God.
Grant strong sight	to the gaze of our minds,
That we may on Thyself	be able thereafter
To fix them firmly,	Father of angels.
Scatter the mist	that now for a season
Before the eyes	of our understanding
Thickly hath hung,	heavy and darksome.
Send, we pray Thee,	to our spirits’ eyes
Thine own light,	Ruler of life;
For Thou art the brightness,	benign Father,
Of the true Light;	likewise Thou art Thyself
The firm rest,	Father Almighty,
Of all the true ones.	Tenderly Thou suff’rest
That they may behold Thee,	Yea, Thyself even.
Thou art of all things,	O nations’ Ruler,
Beginning and end.	O angels’ Father,
Of all things Thou bearest	the burden lightly,
Never wearied.	Thyself art the Way,
Aye, and the Guide,	of all things living,
And the goodly Bourne	to which the Way bendeth.
To Thee all mortals	are moving ever,
All men from below,	in the bright creation.

XXI

Boeth. iii. metr. 10. Cf. p. 100.

O sons of mankind,	o’er earth moving,
Let each that hath freedom	find out the way
To the eternal goodness	whereof our speech is,
And to the blessings	that are our song’s burden.
The man that is straitly	bound by the sway
Of the worthless love	of this world glorious,
Let him right soon	seek for himself
Fullness of freedom,	that forthwith he may come
Into the blessings	of the Bidder of spirits;
For this is the rest	from all our wrestling,
The hopeful haven	for the high vessels
Of the minds of us men,	mild harbour bright.
This is the only hithe	we ever shall have
After the tossing	of troublous billows,
After each tempest,	truly peaceful.
This is the sanctuary,	the sole comfort
Of all weary mortals,	when they are over,
Our worldly troubles;	’tis the winsome bourne
That shall be ours to own	after these hardships.
But well do I trow,	no treasure golden,
No jewel of silver,	no gem of cunning,
No wealth of this world	will ever illumine
The eyes of the mind;	nor do they amend
Their keenness of sight	so that they spy
Bliss unfeigned;	but they far more
The eyes of the mind	of every man
Blind in his breast	than make them brighter.
So each of the things	that now on earth
In this their life	is loved by mankind,
Frail and earthly,	fleeteth away.
But they be wondrous,	the Beauty and Brightness
That give brightness	and beauty to each,
And possess ever after	power over all.
It is not the will	nor the wish of the Ruler
That our souls should perish,	but He preferreth
With light to fill them,	life’s Controller.
If any wight therefore	with his eyes undimmed,
The glance of his spirit,	may ever gaze on
The clear brightness	of the heavenly beam,
Then will he say	that the sun’s shining
Is merely darkness	to the mind of each man,
If it be measured	with the mighty light
Of God Almighty;	for every spirit
’Tis ceaseless, eternal,	for the souls of the blest.

XXII

Boeth. iii. metr. 11. Cf. p. 107.

He that desireth	the Right in due measure,
In its inner nature	anxious to track,
And know it fully	so that none be able
To drive it out,	nor anything earthly
Have power to hinder:	first him behoveth
In his own soul	to seek what he earlier
During a season	sought from without.
Then let him bring it	forth from his bosom,
And leave behind,	as long as he may,
Every sorrow	that serveth for nought;
And let him muster	with might and with main
Each thought within him	to that end only.
Let him say to his mind,	that it may find
Within itself only	all that it now
Oftenest seeketh	ever outside,
Every goodness.	Then he getteth to know
Things evil and idle,	all that he had,
Hid in his bosom	so long before,
Even as clearly	as he can the sun
Behold with the eyes	of this present body;
And he moreover	his mind perceiveth
Lighter and brighter	than is the beaming
Of the sun in summer,	when the sky’s jewel,
Sheer orb of heaven,	shineth brightest.
So neither the sins	nor sloth of the body,
Nor its foul vices,	are fully able
To wrest from the mind	its righteous nature
In any mortal.	Though that a man
By the sins of his body,	and by its sloth also,
And by vice be assailed	for many a season,
And though that his mind	be grievously marred
With the foul curse	of careless folly,
And a fog of error	float before
The dreary spirit	of the sons of men,
So that it cannot shine	at all so clearly
As it would do	if it were able,
Yet there remaineth	ever retainèd
Some seed of the truth	in the soul of man,
So long as united	it liveth with body.
This corn of seed	is ever quickened
By means of inquiry,	and afterwards also
With good teaching,	if it is to grow.
How may any man	make out an answer
To anything asked,	by aid of reason,
Though others ask him	after it righteously,
Closely inquiring,	if he containeth
In his own mind	neither much nor little
Of righteousness in him	nor aught of reason?
Yet no man liveth	that is so lacking,
So utterly reft	and void of reason,
That he is unable	the answer to find
Locked in his breast	if others beg him.
For this is sooth,	the saw that our Plato,
The ancient sage,	once said unto us:
‘Each man,’ he said,	‘that is unmindful,
Of righteousness careless,	him I counsel
Again to turn him	towards his thoughts,
His mind’s fancy;	then will he not fail
In his own bosom,	buried deeply,
To find in his spirit	righteousness sealed,
Amid the turmoil	which ever troubleth
His mind daily	most and sorest,
And the heavy sloth	that hampereth his body,
And the heavy cares	that quell a man
In mind and in spirit	at every season.’

XXIII

Boeth. iii. metr. 12. Cf. p. 115.

Oh! truly blessed	a man would be
Here in all things,	had he the power to see
The bright and spotless	heavenly stream,
That grand fountain	of every good;
And if from himself	he might hurl away
The swart mist,	his spirit’s darkness.
Yet now it behoveth,	God us helping,
With tales of fancy,	fables ancient,
To amend thy mind,	that thou more surely
May by straight course	come to heaven,
To that spot eternal	where our souls have rest.

XXIV

Boeth. iv. metr. 1. Cf. p. 120.

I have feather-wings	fleeter than a bird’s,
With which I may fly	far from the earth
Over the high roof	of the heaven above us;
But oh! that I might	thy mind furnish,
Thy inmost wit,	with these my wings,
Until thou mightest	on this world of mortals,
On all that there liveth,	look down easily!
Then thou mightest	mount on pinions
Straight o’er heaven,	soaring upwards
Wind through the clouds,	and then witness
All from above.	Thou couldst also fly
Over the fire	that long hath fared,
Many a year,	mid air and heaven,
E’en as the Father	at first appointed.
Then couldst thou after	the course follow
That the sun taketh	’tween the lights of heaven,
And onward speeding	reach the sphere
Far up aloft;	then in order
That star all cold,	alone in station,
Which is the highest	of heavenly bodies,
By sea-dwellers	beneath the sky
Saturn yclept;	cold is that star,
Wholly ice-bound,	and highest wand’reth
Over all others	up in heaven.
Yea, even then,	when thou hast passed
High o’er Saturn,	thou mayst still journey,
And then wilt soon be	above the sphere
That swiftly turneth;	and if straight thou goest,
Leaving behind thee	the highest heaven,
Then may’st thou at last	in the true Light
Have thy portion,	whence the sole Prince
Above the firmament	far sway holdeth,
And also beneath,	o’er every creature,
Guiding the world.	A wise King He;
’Tis He that controlleth	through all countries
All other kings	over the world.
He with His bridle	hath firmly bound
The whole compass	of heaven and earth;
With His guiding reins	well He governeth
And ever steereth	with mighty strength
The hastening car	of earth and heaven.
He is the only Judge,	in justice steadfast,
God unchanging,	fair and glorious.
If thou shouldst reach	by the right way
Up to that region,	that right noble place,
Though for a time	thou hast it forgotten,
Yet if again ever	thou thither arrive,
Then wilt thou call out	and quickly say:
‘This, this only	is mine own true home,
My land and country;	hence am I come,
Here was created,	by the Craftsman’s might.
Hence will I never	hie me away,
But pleasantly here	it is my purpose,
The Father willing,	firmly to stand.’
If to thee after	it shall ever befall
That thou wilt, or may’st	to this mirky world
Come once more,	thou wilt quickly see
That all the unrighteous	rulers of earth,
And all the mighty,	those men so haughty
That most oppress	this weary people,
Are ever themselves	utterly wretched,
In all things feeble,	failing in might,
Even these proud ones	that this poor folk
Now for a season	so sorely dreadeth.

XXV

Boeth. iv. metr. 2. Cf. p. 128.

Hear now a tale	told of the proud ones,
The kings unrighteous	that rule o’er the earth,
That shine among us	with wondrous sheen
In many various	beautiful vestures,
On high seats raised	e’en to the roof,
Decked with gold,	adorned with jewels,
On all side hemmed	with a countless host
Of thanes and fighters.	These too are furnished
With battle harness	of wondrous brightness,
With gleaming brands	stoutly belted,
And with high state	they serve the other,
Obedient all;	and then, forth bursting
To every quarter,	crush with force
All other nations	that neighbouring dwell;
And their lord heedeth,	who the host ruleth,
Friend nor foeman,	life nor fortune,
But ruthless ever	rusheth on all men;
Unto a mad hound	most hath he likeness,
Too high uplifted	within his heart,
For the dominion	that each of his darlings,
His friends so trusty,	aideth to found.
If a man, however,	might pluck from the tyrant
Each sev’ral garment	of the royal garb,
And from him sever	the various servants,
And likewise the power	that once he possessed,
Then might’st thou see	that he is most like
To one of the men	that now most busily
Press about him	in painful service;
He might well be worse,	but I ween no better.
If such an one ever,	all unwitting,
Happened to lose	by lack of fortune
State and raiment	and ready service,
And the power also	which we have pictured:
If any of such things	he seeth no longer,
I know he will fancy	that he hath fallen
Deep in a dungeon,	or himself he deemeth
In shackles fastened.	This I may show,
That from over-measure	in any matter,
In food or in dress,	or in wine-drinking,
Or in sweetmeats,	sorest waxeth
The mighty frenzy	of fierce desire
That cloudeth sore	the inmost spirit
Of every mortal.	Thence come most often
Evil pride of heart	and profitless strife.
When rage is burning,	within their bosoms
Their hearts are whelmed	with waves enormous
Of seething passion,	and soon thereafter
Are gripped in turn	with grievous gloom,
Firmly caught.	Anon there cometh
Hope deceitful	with hateful lying
Crying vengeance,	for anger craveth
More and more;	then maketh promise
The heart so reckless,	of all right heedless.
I told thee before	in this same book
That somewhat of good	by each single member
Of the wide creation	is ever craved,
By the natural power	that it possesseth.
The unrighteous Kings	that rule the earth
To no good ever	can give an issue,
By reason of the sin	whereof I have spoken;
Nor is that a marvel,	for they ever are minded
Themselves to abase,	and bow to the power
Of each of the evils	named already.
Needs then straitly	they must submit
Unto the bondage	of those masters,
The chieftains by them	already chosen.
Yet is this worse,	that a man will not
Resist this mastery	e’en for a moment.
If he were ready	to begin to wrestle
And the war thereafter	to wage for ever,
Then were he never	worthy of blame
E’en if beaten,	bested at last.

XXVI

Boeth. iv. metr. 3. Cf. p. 127.

I can from fables	feigned of yore
Tell thee a story	touching nearly
This same matter	whereof we speak.
In times long past	once it betided
That prince Aulixes	had possession
Under the Caesar	of kingdoms twain.
He was the ruler	of the realm of Thracia,
And Retia also	ruled as chieftain;
And his liege lord’s name,	known to the nations,
Was Agamemnon,	ruler of all
The Greekish kingdom.	It was common rumour
That in those times	the Trojan war
Was fought under heaven.	That hard fighter,
The Greekish monarch,	marched to the field;
Aulixes likewise	led five-score ships
Across the sea-stream,	and there sat down
Full ten winters.	Then the time came
When they had won	the realm by war,
And the Greekish prince	had dearly purchased
The town of Troy	with his true comrades.
Then when to Aulixes	leave was given,
The Thracian chieftain,	thence to journey,
He left behind him	of his hornèd barks
Nine and ninety;	none of them thence,
Of these sea-horses,	save only one,
He ferried o’er ocean,	a foam-washed galley
With threefold oar-bank.	Then came cold weather,
Raging storm-wind;	the dun waves roaring
Dashed together,	far out driving
Into the Wendelsea	the warrior crew,
Upon the island	where Apollo’s daughter
Had been dwelling	for many a day.
This same Apollo	was of princely race,
Son of Jove.	This Jove was a king
Who to great and little	lying feigned,
To every goodman,	that he was a god
Most high and holy.	Thus this hero
The silly people	pleased with error,
Till countless folk	his feigning trusted;
For he was rightly	the realm’s protector,
Of royal birth.	’Tis known abroad
That in those days	each folk deemed
Its sovereign head	the Highest God,
And gave him honour	as King of Glory,
If to be ruler	he was rightly born.
Jove’s father also	was further a god,
And the sea-dwellers	Saturn named him,
The sons of men.	Soon folk named
Each in turn	God eternal.
Men say there was also	Apollo’s daughter,
Well descended,	to witless mortals
A goddess seeming,	skilled in magic,
In witchcraft dealing	and in the delusions,
More than all men,	of many a nation.
She was a king’s daughter,	Circe was called
Among the multitude,	and she ruled men
Upon the island	to which Aulixes
Chief of Thracia	had chanced to come,
In his ship sailing.	Soon was it known
To all the troop	that tarried there with her,
The prince’s coming.	Then Circe herself
Loved beyond measure	that lord of seamen,
And in the same way	with all his soul
Such love for her	he felt in his heart
That to his country	no care to return
Had power in his mind	like that of the maiden;
But he went on dwelling	with the woman thereafter,
So long remained	that none of his men,
His servants sturdy,	would stay with him longer,
But after their hardships	for home were longing,
And purposed to leave	their dear lord behind.
Now folk began	to make a fable,
How that this woman	with her witchcraft
Changed men’s bodies,	and with baleful arts
Caused them to take,	the king’s true servants,
The bodies of beasts,	and bound them afterwards,
And fastened many	in fetters also.
Some became wolves	and no word could utter,
But from time to time	took to howling;
Some were wild boars,	and broke into grunting
When they their sorrow	sought to lament;
Those that were lions	let forth in anger
A dreadful roar	when they desired
To hail each other.	These hapless mortals,
Both old and young,	yea all, were turned
To some wild beast,	such as before
During his life-days	each most was like;
All save the king,	the queen’s beloved.
Nought would they taste,	any one of them,
Of meat of men,	but more they longed for
What beasts supporteth,	as was not seemly.
No more was left them	of men’s likeness,
Of the earth-dwellers,	save only reason.
Each of them kept	his own mind,
But this with sorrow	was sorely beset
For the sad troubles	that had assailed it.
Now the foolish ones	that in this witchcraft
So long believed,	in lying stories,
Notwithstanding	knew that no one
The wit of man	nor his mind can change
With magic art,	though this be able
Mortal bodies	for many a day
In form to worsen.	Wonderful is it
And mighty, the power	that every mind
Hath o’er the slight	and sluggish body!
Thou may’st by such examples	see most clearly
That every cunning	and craft of the body
Come from the mind	in every man,
Each single power.	It is easy to see
That to every man	more harm bringeth
Wickedness of mind	than weakness of body,
Of the frail flesh.	Let none of the folk
Deem it possible	that this poor flesh
May ever the mind	of any mortal
Utterly change	to its own estate.
Nay, ’tis the faults,	each mind’s failings,
And the inward purpose	prompting each man,
That bend the body	to their bidding.

XXVII

Boeth. iv. metr. 4. Cf. p. 133.

Why should ye harass	with wicked hatred
Your spirits weary,	as the waves of ocean
Set a-tossing	the ice-cold sea,
Urged by the blast?	Why do ye blame,
Your fate reproach	that she hath no power?
Why can ye not bide	the bitter coming
Of common death	by God created
When he is drawing	each day towards you?
Can ye not perceive	that he is ever pursuing
Each thing begotten,	of earthly bearing,
Beasts and birds?	Death also is busy
After mankind,	all over this earth,
The dreadful huntsman,	holding the chase,
Nor will he truly	the trail abandon
Ere that he catch	at last the quarry
That he was pursuing.	Oh! it is pitiful
That borough-dwellers	cannot bide him,
But luckless mortals	like the race of birds
Are flying onward	fain to meet him,
Or as beasts of the forest	that are ever fighting,
Each one seeking	to slay the other.
But it is wicked	for any wight
That towards another	in his inmost temper
He should hatred bear,	like bird or beast;
But most right it were	that every mortal
To others should render	their due reward,
To all earth-dwellers,	whatever they earn
By their life-works.	He should love, that is,
All true men	most tenderly,
And spare the wicked,	as we have said.
The man himself	he must love in mind,
And all his vices	view with hatred,
And cut them away	as best he can.

XXVIII

Boeth. iv. metr. 5. Cf. p. 139.

What man that learning	on earth lacketh
Doth marvel not	at the moving clouds,
The swift heavens,	the stars’ wheeling,
How never ceasing	they spin around
The mass of earth?	Which of mankind
No wonder showeth	at these shining bodies,
How that some of them	a lesser space
Of course revolve,	and others run
In longer circle?	One of these lights
Is by world-men	the Waggon Shafts called.
This a shorter course	and journey keepeth,
A smaller circle	than other stars,
For it turneth about	the heavenly axle
At the northern end,	nigh revolving.
On this same axle	all is circling,
The spacious heavens	are swiftly speeding,
Southward rushing,	swift, untiring.
What earthly mortal	doth not marvel,
Save the wise ones	who wist before,
That many stars	a motion wider
Have in the heavens,	some, however,
Run more straitly	round the axle’s end,
And move more widely	when round its middle
They urge their race?	One of these orbs
Is Saturn called;	in some thirty winters
He girdleth round	this globe of earth.
Boötes also	brightly shineth,
Another star	that to his station
In years as many	moveth round,
E’en to the place	from which he parted.
What mortal is there	that marvelleth not
How that some stars	sink in ocean,
Under the sea-waves,	as men do suppose?
Some also deem	that the sun doth so;
But none the less false	is this their fancy,
For neither at even	nor in early morning
Is he nearer the ocean	than at high noon.
Yet do men deem	that he diveth to ocean,
Into the sea,	when he sinketh to setting.
Who in the world	wondereth not
At the full moon,	when in a moment
She is robbed of her beauty	beneath the clouds,
With darkness covered?	What mortal cannot
See with wonder	the ways of all stars,
Why in bright weather	they beam not forth
Before the sun,	when such is their custom
In the middle of night	before the moon,
When clear is heaven?	How many a man,
At all such things	sorely wond’reth,
But marvelleth not	that men and beasts,
Every creature,	keep up anger
Great and useless,	each against other,
Never ceasing?	It is a strange thing
That men do not marvel	how oft ’mid the clouds
The thunder soundeth,	then for a space
Lieth silent;	and likewise how
Waves and sea-shore	are warring ever,
The wind and billows.	Who wondereth at this,
Or at another thing also,	why ice is able
To come from water?	When the sun shineth
Hot in splendour,	soon it hasteneth,
The wondrous ice-pool,	once more to its kind,
Even to water.	No wonder seemeth
To any of mortals	what he may see
Day by day;	but the doited people
What they see but seldom	sooner marvel,
Though to the minds	of men of wisdom
It seem much less	matter of wonder.
To unsteadfast men	it ever seemeth
No part of the ancient	early creation,
What they see seldom;	but still they ween,
World-men hold	that by chance it happeneth,
Newly befalleth,	if to any before
It hath not appeared;	a pity ’tis so!
But if any of them	ever becometh
So lusting for knowledge	that he beginneth to learn
Wise ways many,	and the Warden of Life
From his mind cleareth	the mountain of folly
That hath buried it	and abode with it long,
Then I know well	that he will not marvel
At many a thing	that now to mankind
A sign and a wonder	everywhere seemeth.

XXIX

Boeth. iv. metr. 6. Cf. p. 142

If thou desirest	deeply to learn
The lofty power	of the world’s Lord
With clear understanding,	consider diligently
The stars of heaven,	how they ever stand
In lasting peace;	long have they done so,
Even as the Prince of Glory	hath prepared them
At their first forming,	so that the fiery one,
The sun, may not approach	the cold one’s path,
The moon’s marches.	Lo! the mighty orbs
Cross not the one	the course of the other
Until it hath fleeted	far on its way.
Nor will that star	e’er seek in its journey
The west of the heavens,	to which wise men give
The name of Ursa.	All other stars
After the sun	sink with the heavens
Below earth’s base;	alone he bideth.
It is no wonder;	he is wondrously near
The higher axle-end	of the heavenly sphere.
Then brightly beameth	one star beyond others
That soareth in the east,	the sun preceding;
Him the sons of men	star of the morning
Call under heaven;	he heraldeth day
To men in the boroughs;	then he bringeth
The glorious sun,	the same day for all.
Fair and shining	is the forerunner,
East up-leaping	the sun he leadeth;
And again after the sun	to his setting glideth,
West under world.	When night cometh,
His name the nations	change for another,
And then they style him	Star of evening.
More swift than the sun,	once they have set,
He speedeth past him,	that star all noble,
Until over again	in the east he riseth,
To men appearing,	the sun preceding.
Those noble orbs	night from day
By the Lord’s power	have fairly parted,
Sun and moon,	in high peace moving
As from the first	the Father appointed.
Thou needest not fear	that these fair ones
Will ever be sated	with this their service
Ere doomsday come.	Therein He dealeth,
Mankind’s Maker,	as Him meet seemeth;
For he suffereth them not,	the Sovran God,
To be at the same time	on one side of heaven,
Lest they ruin	the rest of creation.
But God Eternal	all things guideth,
The broad creation,	in bonds of peace.
Dryness sometimes	driveth out wet;
Whiles they mingle,	by the Master’s craft,
Cold and heat.	To highest heaven
The flame all bright	sometimes flieth
Light through the air,	behind it leaving
The weight of the earthly,	though for a while
The cold earth closely	within herself kept it
Held and hidden	by the might of the Holy,
By the King’s commandment.	Each plant cometh,
Brought forth by earth	every year,
And the heat of summer	for the sons of men.
Every year	yieldeth and drieth
O’er land’s wide surface	seed and leaflet.
Harvest offereth	to hands of mortals
Store of ripeness;	then rain and hailstorm
And snow too cometh,	soaking the ground
In time of winter,	when fierce is weather.
For earth receiveth	every seed-grain,
And maketh it swell	every season,
And in the spring-time	leaves are sprouting.
But the kind Master	for mankind’s children,
To all that groweth	giveth nurture,
To fruits in the world;	bringeth them forth
When He chooseth,	Chief of heaven,
And them discovereth	to the dwellers on earth,
And anon removeth,	mankind’s Saviour.
The Highest Good	on His high-seat
Sole King sitteth,	and this world spacious
Doth His service;	all His subjects
Thence He ruleth	with His reins of leading.
No marvel is this;	He is God of multitudes,
King and Lord	of all that liveth,
Fount and First Cause	of all His creatures,
Maker and Worker	of this our world,
Law and Wisdom	for the livers therein.
All His creatures	upon His errands
Hence He sendeth	and hither biddeth.
Had He not stablish’d	each so steady,
All His creatures,	every one of them,
Breaking away	had burst asunder,
In deadly hate	had come to naught;
Yea, like foes	they had fallen apart,
Though one love only	all things created
In heaven and earth	have in common,
That such a Leader	they serve together,
All of them fain	that the Father ruleth.
No need for wonder,	for no one thing
Could ever hope	to hold its life
Unless all were serving	their common Source,
With all their might,	their glorious Master.

XXX

Boeth. v. metr. 2. Cf. p. 159.

In the East Omerus	among the Greeks
Was in that country	in songs most cunning,
Of Firgilius also	friend and teacher,
Of that famed maker,	best of masters.
Now this Omerus	often and often
On the sun’s splendour	spent high praises,
His noble powers	showed to the people
In glee and story,	again and again.
Yet the sun cannot beam,	for all his brightness,
O’er all creation	nor anywhere near it;
And even those creatures	on which he can shine
He cannot illumine	with equal light
Inside and out.	But the Almighty
Ruler and Worker	of the world’s creatures
His own work	overlooketh;
All creatures alike	He looketh over.
He is the true Sun,	and rightly so;
Such in His honour	we may sing truly.

XXXI

Boeth. v. metr. 5. Cf. p. 161.

Thou may’st know,	if thou wilt notice,
That many creatures	of various kinds
Fare over earth	with unlike motions,
With gait and colour	quite diverse,
And aspects also	of endless kinds,
Queer and common.	Some creep and crawl
With all their body	bound to the ground;
No wings them help;	on feet they walk not,
Nor pace the earth,	as was them appointed.
Some on two feet	fare o’er the ground,
Some are four-footed;	some in flight
Wing ’neath the clouds.	Yet each creature
Is drooping earthward,	stooping downward,
On the ground looking,	longing for earth,
Some need-driven,	some through greed.
Man only goeth	of all God’s creatures
With gait upright,	gazing upwards.
This is a token	that he shall turn
His trust and his mind	more up than down,
To the heavens above,	lest he bend his thoughts
Like beasts earthward.	It is not meet
That the mind of a mortal	should remain below
While his face he holdeth	up to heaven.

NOTES

OXFORD PRINTED AT THE CLARENDON PRESS BY HORACE HART, M A PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

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KING ALFRED’S OLD ENGLISH VERSION of BOETHIUS DE CONSOLATIONE PHILOSOPHIAE

Edited from the MSS, with Introduction, Notes and Glossary

by W. J. SEDGEFIELD, M.A

Oxford AT THE CLARENDON PRESS

London, Edinburgh, and New York HENRY FROWDE