in battle, dread evil, hath taken off every man of my people that hath left this life; they had looked on the joys of the mead-hall. None have I that may wield sword, or burnish the gold-decked vessel or the drinking-cup of price; the warrior host is gone elsewhither. The hard helmet, bedight with its gold, must be spoiled of its platings; they sleep that burnished it, whose part it was to make ready the masks of war. And the battle-gear likewise, that withstood in strife, midst the crash of shields, the bite of the steel, shall crumble with the warrior. The ringmeshed burnie no longer may fare far with the war-prince at the warrior's side. Joy of the harp is not, or delight of the gleewood; the good hawk swingeth not through the hall, nor doth the swift steed paw the court of the stronghold. Death that despoileth hath sent forth many a one of living kind." Thus, sorrowful of heart, he made lament with grieving, he, left solitary, for them all wept, reft of gladness, till the flood of death laid hold on his heart.

The old twilight-spoiler, the evil naked dragon, that flaming seeketh out the barrows and flieth by night enfolded in fire, found the joy-giving hoard standing open. Him the earth-dwellers dread exceedingly. He must needs seek out a hoard in the earth, where, old in years, he watcheth the heathen gold; no whit is he the better for it.

Thus three hundred years the spoiler of the people held in the earth a treasurehouse, mighty in strength, till that a certain man made him wrathful of heart, bare away a cup of gold to his prince, prayed his lord for a bond of peace. Thus was the hoard despoiled, some part of the ring-treasure carried away, and his boon granted to the man in his need. His lord looked for the first time on that work of men of far-off days.

When the dragon awoke, strife was newly kindled. He snuffed along the rock and, stout of heart, came on the foottracks of his foe; in his furtive craft the man had gone too far, too near the dragon's head. So may one not marked for death,

whom the grace of the Wielder stayeth, come forth full readily from his woes and the path of exile. The treasure-warden sought eagerly along the ground, and would fain find the man that had brought this harm on him in his sleep. Hot and savage of heart, he went often all about the mound without, but no man was there in that waste place. Yet had he joy in the coming of battle and the toils of war. Whiles, he went into the mound and sought the treasure-cup; soon knew he for sure some man had found out his gold and his noble treasure. Scarce waited the treasure-keeper till evening came; angered was he then, the barrow-warden; the loathly one was of mind to take payment with fire for his precious cup. Then was the day gone, as the dragon desired. No longer would he bide within wall, but fared forth with flaming, girt with fire. A fearful thing was the feud's beginning for the people of the land, even as it was ended speedily in the hurt that befell their treasure-giver.

THE FUNERAL OF BEOWULF

THEN the Geat-folk made ready for him a pile, as he had prayed them, firmly based on the earth and hung with helmets and shields and bright burnies; with grief the warriors laid in the midst of it their great prince, their lord beloved. Then began the warriors to quicken on the cliff the greatest of death-fires; the wood-smoke rose dark above the pitchy flame, while the fire roared, blent with the sound of weeping as the turmoil of the wind ebbed, till, hot in the hero's breast, it had crumbled the bone-frame. thoughts left void of gladness and with. sorrow of heart, they made their lament for their liege-lord's death. His wife, likewise, in deepest grief, her hair close bound, made her song of mourning again and yet again for Beowulf that she foresaw with grievous dread days of evil for herself, many a death-fall, terror of battle, shame and captivity.

With

Heaven swallowed up the smoke. Then the Weder-folk built a burial-mound on

the cliff that was high and broad, seen afar by the seafarer, and they made it, the beacon of the one who was mighty in battle, in ten days. They carried a wall about the remains of the fire, the goodliest they who were most wise might contrive. In the barrow they placed the rings and jewels, all the trappings likewise which the men of bold heart had taken before from the hoard. They let the earth keep the treasures of earls and the gold lie in the ground where it still now abideth, as useless to men as it was aforetime.

Then about the mound rode the sons of athelings brave in battle, twelve in all. They were minded to speak their sorrow, lament their king, frame sorrow in words and tell of the hero. They praised his earlship and did honor to his prowess as best they knew. It is meet that a man thus praise his liege-lord in words, hold him dear in his heart, when he must forth from the body to become as a thing that is naught.

So the Geat-folk, his hearth-comrades, grieved for their lord, said that he was a king like to none other in the world, of men the mildest and most gracious to men, the most friendly to his people and most eager to win praise.

Translated by C. G. CHILD

BEDE

THE CONVERSION OF KING EDWIN OF NORTHUMBRIA

From ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY THE king, hearing these words, answered that he was both willing and bound to receive the faith which he taught, but that he would confer about it with his principal friends and counselors, to the end that if they also were of his opinion, they might all together be hallowed in Christ, the Fountain of life. Paulinus consenting, the king did as he said; for, holding a council with the wise men, he asked of every one in particular what he thought of the new doctrine and worship

of the Deity that was preached. To whom the chief of his own priests, Coifi, immediately answered: "O king, consider what this is which is now preached to us; for verily I declare to you what I have learned for certain, that the religion which we have hitherto held has no virtue or utility in it. For none of your people has applied himself more diligently to the worship of our gods than I; and yet there are many who receive greater favors from you, and obtain greater dignities than I, and are more prosperous in all their undertakings. Now if our gods were good for anything, they would rather assist me, who have been more careful to serve them. It remains, therefore, that if upon examination, you find those new doctrines, which are now preached to us, better and more efficacious, we immediately receive them without delay."

Another of the king's chief men, assenting to his prudent words and exhortations, straightway added: "O king, the present life of man on earth seems to me, in comparison with the time of which we are ignorant, as if you were sitting at a feast with your chief men and thanes in the winter time, and a fire were kindled in the midst and the hall warmed, while everywhere outside there were raging whirlwinds of wintry rain and snow; and as if then there came a stray sparrow, and swiftly flew through the house, entering at one door and passing out through another. As long as he is inside, he is not buffeted by the winter's storm; but in the twinkling of an eye the lull for him is over, and he speeds from winter back to winter again, and is gone from your sight. So this life of man appeareth for a little time; but what cometh after, or what went before, we know not. If therefore this new doctrine contains something more certain, it seems justly to deserve to be followed." The other elders and king's counselors spoke, by divine inspiration, to the same effect.

But Coifi added that he wished more attentively to hear Paulinus discourse concerning the God whom he preached; which he having by the king's command

performed, Coifi, hearing his words, cried out: "I have long since been sensible that there was nothing in that which we worshiped, because the more diligently I sought after truth in that worship, the less I found it. But now I freely confess that such truth evidently appears in this preaching as can confer on us the gifts of life, of salvation, and of eternal happiness. For which reason I advise, O king, that we instantly abjure and set fire to those temples and altars which we have consecrated without reaping any benefit from them." In short, the king publicly gave his license to the blessed Paulinus to preach the Gospel, and, renouncing idolatry, declared that he received the faith of Christ; and when he inquired of the above-mentioned high priest who should first profane the altars and temples of their idols, with the enclosures that were about them, he answered, "I. Who is fitter to destroy as an example to all others those things which I worshiped in my folly and ignorance, than I, acting upon the wisdom which has been given me by the true God?" Then immediately, casting away his vain superstition, he desired the king to furnish him with arms and a stallion, and, mounting the same, set out to destroy the idols - for it had not been lawful for the high priest to carry arms, or to ride except on a mare. Having, therefore, girt a sword about him, he took a spear in his hand, mounted the king's stallion, and proceeded to the idols. The multitude, beholding it, concluded he was insane; but he lost no time, for as soon as he drew near the temple he profaned it, casting into it the spear which he held; and, rejoicing in the knowledge of the worship of the true God, he commanded his companions to destroy the temple, with all its enclosures, and burn them with fire. The place where the idols were is still shown, not far from York to the eastward, beyond the river Derwent, and is now called Godmundingham, where the high priest, by the inspiration of the true God, polluted and destroyed the altars which he had himself consecrated.

THE POET CÆDMON

THERE was in the monastery of this abbess a certain brother especially distinguished by the grace of God, since he was wont to make poems breathing of piety and religion. Whatever he learned of sacred Scripture by the mouth of interpreters, he in a little time gave forth in poetical language composed with the greatest sweetness and depth of feeling, in English, his native tongue; and the effect of his poems was ever and anon to incite the souls of many to despise the world and long for the heavenly life. Not but that there were others after him among the people of the Angles who sought to compose religious poetry; but none there was who could equal him, for he did not learn the art of song from men, nor through the means of any man; rather did he receive it as a free gift from God. Hence it came to pass that he never was able to compose poetry of a frivolous or idle sort; none but such as pertain to religion suited a tongue so religious as his. Living always the life of a laymen until well advanced in years, he had never learned the least thing about poetry. In fact, so little did he understand of it that when at a feast it would be ruled that every one present should, for the entertainment of the others, sing in turn, he would, as soon as he saw the harp coming anywhere near him, jump up from the table in the midst of the banqueting, leave the place, and make the best of his way home.

This he had done at a certain time, and leaving the house where the feast was in progress, had gone out to the stable where the care of the cattle had been assigned to him for that night. There, when it was time to go to sleep, he had lain down for that purpose. But while he slept some one stood by him in a dream, greeted him, called him by name, and said, “Cædmon, sing me something." To this he replied, "I know not how to sing, and that is the very reason why I left the feast and came here, because I could not sing. But the one who was talking with him answered, "No matter, you are to sing

for me." "Well, then," said he, "what is it that I must sing?" Sing," said the other, "the beginning of created things." At this reply he immediately began to sing verses in praise of God the Creator, verses that he had never heard, and whose meaning is as follows: "Now should we praise the Keeper of the heavenly kingdom, the might of the Creator and His counsel, the works of the Father of glory; how He, though God eternal, became the Author of all marvels. He, the almighty Guardian of mankind, first created for the sons of men heaven as a roof, and afterwards the earth." This is the meaning, but not the precise order, of the words which he sang in his sleep; for no songs, however well they may be composed, can be rendered from one language to another without loss of grade and dignity. When he rose from sleep, he remembered all that he had sung while in that state, and shortly after added, in the same strain, many more words of a hymn befitting the majesty of God.

In the morning he went to the steward who was set over him, and showed him what gift he had acquired. Being led to the abbess, he was bidden to make known his dream and repeat his poem to the many learned men who were present, that they all might give their judgment concerning the thing which he related, and whence it was; and they were unanimously of the opinion that heavenly grace had been bestowed upon him by the Lord. They then set about expounding to him a piece of sacred history or teaching, bidding him, if he could, to turn it into the rhythm of poetry. This he undertook to do, and departed. In the morning he returned and delivered the passage assigned to him, converted into an excellent poem. The abbess, honoring the grace of God as displayed in the man, shortly afterward instructed him to forsake the condition of a layman and take upon himself the vows of a monk. She thereupon received him into the monastery with his whole family, and made him one of the company of the brethren, commanding that he should be taught the whole course and

succession of Biblical history. He, in turn, calling to mind what he was able to learn by the hearing of the ear, and, as it were, like a clean animal, chewing upon it as a cud, transformed it all into most agreeable poetry; and, by echoing it back in a more harmonious form, made his teachers in turn listen to him. Thus he rehearsed the creation of the world, the origin of man, and all the story of Genesis; the departure of Israel from Egypt and their entry into the promised land, together with many other histories from Holy Writ; the incarnation of our Lord, His passion, resurrection, and ascension into heaven; the coming of the Holy Ghost and the teaching of the apostles; moreover he made many poems about the terror of the future judgment, the awfulness of the pains of hell, and the joy of the heavenly kingdom, besides a great number about the mercies and judgments of God. In all these he exerted himself to allure men from the love of wickedness and to impel them to the love and practice of righteous living; for he was a very devout man, humbly submissive to the monastic rule, but full of consuming zeal against those who were disposed to act otherwise.

Hence it came to pass that he ended his life with a fair death. For when the hour of his departure drew nigh, he was afflicted for the space of a fortnight with a bodily weakness which seemed to prepare the way; yet it was so far from severe that he was able during the whole of that time to walk about and converse. Near at hand there was a cottage, to which those who were sick and appeared nigh unto death were usually taken. At the approach of evening on the same night when he was to leave the world, he desired his attendant to make ready a place there for him to take his rest. The attendant did so, though he could not help wondering at the request, since he did not seem in the least like a person about to die. When he was placed in the infirmary, he was somehow full of good humor, and kept talking and joking with those who had already been brought there. Some time after midnight he asked whether they

had the eucharist at hand. "What do you need of the eucharist ?" they answered, you aren't going to die yet, for you are just as full of fun in talking with us as if nothing were the matter with you." "Never mind," said he, "bring me the eucharist." Taking it in his hand, he asked, "Are you all at peace with me, and free from any grudge or ill-will?" "Yes," they all responded, "we are perfectly at peace with you, and cherish no grievance whatever." "But are you," said they, "entirely at peace with us?" "Yes, my dear children," he answered without hesitation, "I am at peace with all the servants of God." And thus saying, he made ready for his entrance into the other life by partaking of the heavenly journeybread. Not long after he inquired, "How near is it to the hour when the brethren are wakened for lauds?" "But a little while," was the reply. "Well then," said he, "let us wait for that hour," and, making over himself the sign of the cross, he laid his head on the pillow, and falling into a slight slumber, ended his life in silence. And so it came to pass that, as he had served the Lord in simplicity and purity of mind, and with serene attachment and loyalty, so by a serene death he left the world, and went to look upon His face. And meet in truth it was that the tongue which had indited so many helpful words in praise of the Creator, should frame its very last words in His praise, while in the act of signing himself with the cross, and of commending his spirit into His hands. And that he foresaw his death is apparent from what has here been related.

ALFRED

PREFACE TO GREGORY'S PAS

TORAL CARE

KING ALFRED bids greet Bishop Werfrith with his words lovingly and with friendship; and I let it be known to thee that it has very often come into my mind what wise men there formerly were throughout England, both of sacred and secular orders; and what happy times there were

then throughout England; how the kings who had power over the nation in those days obeyed God and His ministers; how they preserved peace, morality, and order at home, and at the same time enlarged their territory abroad; and how they prospered both with war and with wisdom; and also how zealous the sacred orders were both in teaching and learning, and how we should now have to get them from abroad if we were to have them. So general was its decay in England that there were very few on this side of the Humber who could understand their rituals in English, or translate a letter from Latin into English; and I believe that there were not many beyond the Humber. There were so few of them that I cannot remember a single one south of the Thames when I came to the throne. Thanks be to Almighty God that we have any teachers among us now. And therefore I command thee to do as I believe thou art willing, to disengage thyself from worldly matters as often as thou canst, that thou mayest apply the wisdom which God has given thee wherever thou canst. Consider what punishments would come upon us on account of this world, if we neither loved it (wisdom) ourselves nor suffered other men to obtain it: we should love the name only of Christian, and very few the virtues. When I considered all this, I remembered also, that I saw, before it had been all ravaged and burned, how the churches throughout the whole of England stood filled with treasures and books; and there was also a great multitude of God's servants, but they had very little knowledge of the books, for they could not understand anything of them, because they were not written in their own language. As if they had said: "Our forefathers, who formerly held these places, loved wisdom, and through it they obtained wealth and bequeathed it to us. In this we can still see their tracks, but we cannot follow them, and therefore we have lost both the wealth and the wisdom, because we would not incline our hearts after their example." When I remembered all this,