The salt ocean will rage;
the clouds of the supreme Ruler,
and the water floods
about every land,

will flow in expansive streams.
Cattle in the earth
will multiply and be reared.
Stars will in the heavens
shine brightly

as their Creator commanded them.

God against evil;

youth against age;
life against death;
light against darkness;
army against army;
enemy against enemies;
hate against hate;
shall everywhere contend:
sin will steal on.

Always will the prudent strive about this world's labour

to hang the thief;

and compensate the more honest
for the crime committed
against mankind.

The Creator alone knows
whither the soul
shall afterwards roam,
and all the spirits

that depart in God.
After their death-day

they will abide their judgment
in their father's bosom.
Their future condition
is hidden and secret.
God alone knows it,
the preserving father!
None again return
hither to our houses,
that any truth

may reveal to man,

about the nature of the Creator,
or the people's habitations of glory
which he himself inhabits.

There is a volume of miscellaneous Saxon poetry in the cathedral library at Exeter, the gift of its first bishop, Leofric, from which some interesting passages have been selected by the Rev. J. J. Conybeare. The curious student will find the original with a Latin translation, in the 17th volume of the Archæologia." But as Mr. Conybeare's elegant paraphrase expresses faithfully the sense of the Saxon poet, it may not be unwelcome to extract two passages of it for the gratification of the English reader.

Befits it well that man should raise

To Heav'n the song of thanks and praise,
For all the gifts a bounteous God
From age to age hath still bestow'd.
The kindly seasons temper'd reign,
The plenteous store, the rich domain
Of this mid-earth's extended plain,
All that his creatures' wants could crave,
His boundless pow'r and mercy gave.
Noblest of yon bright train that sparkle high,
Beneath the vaulted sky,

The Sun by day, the silver'd Moon by night,
Twin fires of heav'n, dispense for man their useful light.
Where'er on earth his lot be sped,

For man the clouds their richness shed,

In gentler dews descend, or op'ning pour

Wide o'er the land their fertilizing shower.

"The conclusion of this poem will perhaps be found to possess sufficient merit to apologize for transcribing it at length. It

a See the Saxon ode in Hickes's Grammat. Anglo-Sax. p. 207, 208.

Vol. xvii. p. 180-192. In the same MS. there are some fragments of Saxon historical poetry, or of verses alluding to historical events, partly real and partly fabulous.

will doubtless remind the classical reader of the exquisite choral song of Sophocles, commencing IIoλλa la Seva; and the fine moral reflection with which it terminates would not have disgraced the composition even of the most philosophic poet of antiquity." Thrice Holy He,

The Spirit Son of Deity!

He call'd from nothing into birth

Each fair production of the teeming earth;
He bids the faithful and the just aspire

To join in endless bliss Heaven's angel choir.
His love bestows on human kind

Each varied excellence of mind.

To some his Spirit-gift affords

The power and mastery of words:

So may the wiser sons of earth proclaim

In speech and measured song, the glories of his name.
Some the tuneful hand may ply,

And loud before the list'ning throng,

Wake the glad harp of harmony,

Or bid the trump of joy its swelling note prolong.
To these he gave Heaven's righteous laws to scan,
Or trace the courses of the starry host,

To these the writer's learned toil to plan,

To these the battle's pride and victor's boast;
Where in the well-fought field the war-troop pour
Full on the wall of shields the arrows flickering shower.
Some can speed the dart afar,

Some forge the steelly blade of war,
Some o'er Ocean's stormy tide

The swift-wing'd ship can fearless guide.

Some in sweet and solemn lays

The full-ton'd voice of melody can raise.

So heaven's high Lord each gift of strength or sense
Vouchsafes to man, impartial, to dispense.
And of the power that from his Spirit flows
On each a share, on none the whole bestows.
Lest favour'd thus beyond their mortal state,
Their pride involve them in the sinner's fate.

We are indebted to the same gentleman for bringing to notice a fragment of later Saxon poetry, from a MS. in the Bodleian. It occurs towards the conclusion of a MS. volume of homilies. It is a speech of Death on the last home of man-the grave. The turn of thought is singular, and is more connected with the imagination than Saxon poems usually are. I transcribe Mr. Conybeare's literal translation."

For thee was a house built

Ere thou wert born,

DEATH SPEAKS.

For thee was a mould shapen

Sophoclis Antigone.

Ere thou of (thy) mother camest
Its height is not determined,
Nor its depth measured,

t Conyb. Arch.

" See the Saxon with a Latin translation, Arch. vol. xvii. p. 174.

Nor is it closed up
(However long it may be)
Until I thee bring
Where thou shalt remain;
Until I shall measure thee
And the sod of earth.
Thy house is not
Highly built (timbered),
It is unhigh and low;
When thou art in it
The heel-ways are low,
The side-ways unhigh.
The roof is built
Thy breast full nigh;
So thou shalt in earth
Dwell full cold,
Dim, and dark.

Doorless is that house,

And dark it is within;
There thou art fast detained,
And Death holds the key.
Loathly is that earth-house,
And grim to dwell in;
There thou shalt dwell
And worms shall share thee.
Thus thou art laid
And leavest thy friends;
Thou hast no friend,
That will come to thee,
Who will ever inquire
How that house liketh thee,
Who shall ever open

For thee the door

And seek thee,

For soon thou becomest loathly,
And hateful to look upon.

After these copious specimens of the Anglo-Saxon poetry, we will merely notice, from its peculiarity, one more of Saxon, intermingled with Latin and Greek. It occurs in a very ancient MS. of Aldhelm, and thus begins:

Thur me gesette
Sanctus et justus

Beorn boca gleap
Bonus auctor

Ealdem athele rceop
Etiam fuit ipse

On æthel Angel-Seaxtɲa
Býrcep en Bɲetene.

Thus has settled me,

The holy and just one;
The man skilled in books;
The good author

Aldhelm, the noble poet,
He was also

In the country of the Anglo-Saxons,
A bishop in Britain.▾

CHAPTER IV.

On the Anglo-Saxon Versification.

THE best Saxon scholars have confessed that the versification of the vernacular poetry of our ancestors was modelled by rules which we have not explored. But the passage before quoted from Bede, shows that it had really no other rule than the poet's ear. To combine his words into a rhythmical cadence was all he aimed at. A few specimens will enable the reader to see what this cadence usually was.

See the remainder, containing some Greek words, in Wanley's Catalogue, p. 110.

In Alfred's Boetius, part of the specimens before translated stand thus:

Єala thu rcippend Scipɲa tungla beroner and eonchan Thu on heah retle Ecum picsart And thu ealne hɲæthe beron ymbhpеanɲert And chuɲh chine balige miht

Tunglu genedest

That he the to heɲath

Sylce reo runne
Speaɲtɲa nihta
Thiorτno adрærcech
Thunh chine meht
Blacun leoht

Beophte steorɲan
Mona gemetgath

Thunh chinɲa meahca sped
bpilum eac tha runnan
Siner benearath

Beonhtan leohter.

Boet. 154.

The little poem which was cited from the Saxon Chronicle is

the following:

Tha peaɲth eac adɲæfed

Deonmod hæleth

Orlac of eande

Ora ytha gepealc

Open ganoter bæth

Lamol Feax hæleth

Wir and pond snottor
Open þæreɲa gethring

Open hpæler æthel

bama beɲearod.

The next lines may be cited because of their rhyming ten

In Judith the versification is of the same species, which is

taken from the description of the battle:

Tha pearch rnellɲa peɲod

Snude gezeaɲepod
Cenɲa to campe

Stopon cyneɲoƑe

Secgar and gesithas
Bæɲon chuƑar

Fonon to gereohte
Forth on geɲihte

a Sax. Chron. 123.

It appears to me that the only rule of the Saxon versification which we can now discover is, that the words are placed in that peculiar rhythm or cadence which is observable in all the preceding extracts. This rhythm will be felt by every one who reads the following lines:

To produce this rhythm seems to have been the perfection of their versification. But, happily for the strength of their poetry,