The Sources of Standard English/Chapter VII - Twelve Hundred Years of English

by Thomas Laurence Kington-Oliphant

CHAPTER VII.

twelve hundred years of english.

I.

Runes on the Ruthwell Cross, of about the year 680.^[1]

(On-) geredæ hinæ God almeyottig þa he walde on galgu gi-stiga modig fore (ale) men . . . . .	Girded him God almighty when he would on gallows mount proud for all men . . . .
(ahof) ic riicnæ cuningc heafunæs hlafard hælda ic (n)i darstæ bismærædu ungcet men ba ætgad(r)e ic (wæs) miþ blodse bistemid . . . . .	I heaved the rich king heaven's lord heel (over) I durst not men mocked us both to­gether. I was with blood besmeared . . . . .
Krist wæs on rodi hweþræ þer fusæ fearran kwomu æþþilæ ti lanum ic þæt al bi(h)eal(d) s(are) ic wæs mi(þ) sorgu(m) gi(d)æ(fe)d . . . . .	Christ was on rood but there hurriedly From afar they came the Prince to aid I beheld all that sore I was with sorrows harrowed . . . . .

miþ strelum giwundæd	with arrows wounded
alegdun hiæ hinæ limwæ­rignæ	they laid him down limb-weary
gistoddun him (æt) h(is l)i­cæs (h)eaf(du)m	they stood at his corpse's head

II.

Manuscript of the year 737, containing lines by Cadmon.^[2]

Nu scylun hergan hefaen ricaes uard metudæs mæcti end his mod gidanc uerc uuldur fadur sue he uundra gihuaes eci drictin or astelidæ He ærist scop elda barnum heben til hrofe haleg scepen tha middun geard mon cynnæs uard eci dryctin æfter tiadæ firum foldu frea allmectig.	Now must we praise heaven kingdom's Warden the Creator's might and his mind's thought glorious Father of men as he of each wonder eternal Lord formed the beginning He erst shaped for earth's bairns heaven as a roof holy Shaper then mid-earth mankind's Warden eternal Lord afterwards produced for men the earth Lord Almighty.

III.

The Eighth Psalm, from the Northumbrian Psalter, Compiled about the Year 800.^[3]

Dryht', dryht' ur, hu wundurlic is noma ðin in alre eorðan,
for-ðon up-ahefen is micelnis ðin ofer heofenas, of mutðe cilda and milc-deondra ðu ge-fremedes lof.
fore feondum ðinum, ðæt ðu to-weorpe feond and ge­scildend.
for-ðon ic ge-sie heofenas were fingra ðinra, monan and steorran ða ðu ge-steaðulades.
hwet is mon ðæt ge-myndig ðu sie his, oððe sunu monnes for-ðon ðu neosas hine?
ðu ge-wonedes hine hwoene laessan from englum, mid wuldre and mid are ðu ge-begades hine, and ge-settes hine ofer were honda ðinra:
all ðu under-deodes under fotum his, scep and oxan all ec ðon and netenu feldes,
fuglas heofenes and fiscas saes, ða geond-gað stige saes
Dryht,' dryht', ur, hu wundurlic is noma ðin in alre eorðan.

IV.

The Rushworth Gospels, a.d. 900.

St. Matthew, Chap. ii.

1. Þa soþlice akenned wæs Hælend Iudeana in dagum Erodes þæs kyninges, henu tungul-kræftgu eastan quo­mon in Hierosolimam, 2. cweþende, hwær is seþe akenned is kining Iudeana? we gesegon soþlice steorra his in east-dæle and cnomon to gebiddenne to him. 3. þæt þa geherde, soþlice Herodes king wæs gedroefed in mode and ealle Hierosolima mid hine. 4. . . . . ealle aldur­sacerdos, bokeras þæs folkes, ahsade heom hwær Krist wære akenned. 5. hiæ þa cwædon, in Bethlem Iudeana, swa soþlice awriten þurh witgu, cwæþende. 6. . . . . nænigþinga læs-æst eart aldormonnum Iuda, of þe soþlice gæþ latteuw seþe ræccet Israhæl. 7. Herodes dernunga acægde tungul-kræftgum and georne geliornade æt þa tid þæs æteawde him steorra. 8. sondende heom to Bethlem cwæþ, gæþ ahsiað georne bi þem cnæhte þanne ge gemoeteþ hine sæcgað eft, þæt ic swilce cymende gebidde to him. 9. þa hie þa . . . . ðæs kyninges word eodun þonan, henu þe steorra þe hiæ ær gesægon east-dæle fore-eade hiæ oþþæt be cumende bufan ðær se cneht . . . . 10. hie geseænde soþlice steorran gefegon. gefea miccle swiþe. 11. ingangende þæt hus gemoettun þone cneht mid . . . forþfallende gebedun to him . . . ontynden heora gold-hord brohtun lac recils murra. 12. andsuari onfengon slepe, hiæ ne cerdun . . . þurh wege gewendun to heora londe.

V.

The Lindisfarne Gospels, a.d. 970.

parable of the ten virgins — St. Matthew xxv.

1. Ðonne gelic bið ric heofna tewm hehstaldun, ða onfengon leht-fato heora ge-eodun ongeæn ðæm brydgama and ðær bryde. 2. fifo uutetlice of ðæm weron idlo and fifo hogofæste. 3. ah fifo idlo gefengon leht-fato ne genomun oele mið him. 4. hogofæste uutetlice onfengon oele in fetelsum hiora mið leht-fatum. 5. suigo uutetlice dyde ðe brydgum geslepedon alle and geslepdon. 6. middum uutetlice næht lydeng geworden wæs: heonu brydguma cwom, gæs ongæn him. 7. ða arioson alle hehstalde ða ilco, and gehrindon leht-fato hiora. 8, idlo uutetlice ðæm snotrum cuoedon: seles us of ole iuerre, forðon leht-fato usræ gedrysned biðon. 9. geonduordon hogo cuoeðendo: eaðe mæg ne noh is us and iuh, gaas gewelgad to ðæm bibycendum and bygeð iuh. 10. miððy uutetlice geeodon to bycganne, cuom ðe brydgnma and ða ðe . . . . weron innfoerdon mið him to brydloppum and getyned wæs ðe dura. 11. hlætmesto cwomon and ða oðro hehstaldo cueðendo: drihten, drihten, uutyn us. 12. soð he onduearde cueð: soðlice ic cuoeðo iuh, nat ic iuih. 13. wæccas forðon, forðon nuuto gie ðone dæge ne þone tid.

VI.

(About A.D. 1090.)

the finding of st. edmund's head.^[4]

Hwæt þa, ðe flot-here ferde þa eft to scipe, and
  What then fleet-armament fared then again    ship
behyddon þæt heafod þæs halgan Eadmundes on þam
       hid         the     head                 holy
ðiccum bremlum, þæt bit biburiged ne wurde. Þa
   thick      brambles                      buried      should not be.
æfter fyrste, syððan heo ifarene wæron, com þæt lond-­
            a time       after     they    gone
folc tó, þe þær to lafe þa w’æs, þær heoræ lafordes lic
                                left                         their               lord's corpse
buton heafde þa læg, and wurdon swiðe sarig for his
without   head          lay               were       right     sorry
slægie on mode, and hure þæt heo næfdon þæt heafod to
slaughter        mind          moreover                had not
þam bodige. Þa sæde ðe sceawere, þe hit ær iseah, þæt
                                                     beholder                erst   saw
þa flot-men hæfdon þæt heafod mid heom, and wæs him
                                                              with   them                to him it
iþuht, swa swa hit wæs ful soð, þæt heo hydden þæt
seemed        as                              true
heofod on þam holte. For-hwæga heo eoden þa endemes
                                             However                 went             at last
alle to þam wude, sæcende gehwær, geond þyfelas and
                                                    every where   through   shrubs
brymelas, gif heo mihten imeten þæt heafod. Wæs eac
                     if                              meet                                        eke
mycel wunder þæt an wulf wæs isend, þurh Godes
willunge, to biwærigenne þæt heafod, wið þa oðre deór,
                              guard                                 against             beasts
ofer dæg and niht. Heo eoden ða sæcende, and
           day         
cleopigende, swa swa hit iwunelic is þæt ða þe on wude
        calling                               customary          those that
gaþ oft: ‘Hwær eart þu nu gerefa?’ And him and-­
go                                              governor
swyrde þæt heafod: ‘Her, her, her.’ And swa ilome
                                                                               so    often
clypode andswarigende, oððet heo alle bicomen, þurh
                                                  until                        came
þa clypunge, him tó. Þa læg þe grægæ wulf þe bewiste
                                                                  gray                     guarded
þæt heafod, ant mid his twam fotum hæfde þæt heafod
                                                  two      feet
biclypped, gredig and hnngrig, and for Gode ne dyrste
   clasped
þæs hæfdes onburigen, ac heold hit wið deor. Ða
                                taste       but    held
wurdon heo ofwundroden þæs wulfes hordrædene, and
  became               amazed at                            guardianship
þæt halige heafod hám feroden mid heom, þankende
                                    home   carried
þam Almihtigan alre his wundræ. Ac þe wulf fologede
                               for all
forð mid þam heafde, oððet heo on túne comen, swylce
                                                                     town                     as if
he tome wære, and wende æft syððan to wude ongean.
       tame                                                                                again
Ða lond-leodan þa sytððan lægdan þæt heafod to þam
           land-folk
halige bodige, and burigdon, swa swa heo lihtlucost
                                                                                      easiest
mihten on swylce rædinge, and cyrce arærdon onuppon
                        such        haste               a kirk      reared
him.^[5]

VII.

(A.D. 1220.)

ancren riwle (Camden Society), 388.^[6]

A lefdi was þet was mid hire voan biset al abuten,
     lady                                             foes
and hire lond al destrued, and heo al poure, wiðinnen
                                                           she         poor
one eorðene castle. On mihti kinges luve was þauh bi-­
  an    earthen                   A                                          however
turnd upon hire, so unimete swuðe þet he vor wouh-­
                                      boundless    very                      wooing
lecchunge sende hire his sonden, on efter oðer, and ofte
                                             messengers, one
somed monie: and sende hire beaubelet boðe veole and
at once                                                   jewels                 many
feire, and sukurs of liveneð, and help of his heie hird to
                    supplies      victuals                                         army
holden hire castel. Heo underveng al ase on unrec-
                                                received                        careless
heleas þing þet was so herd iheorted þet hire luve ne
                                               hard-hearted
mihte he never beon þe neorre. Hwat wult tu more?
                                               nearer
He com himsulf a last, and scheawede hire his feire
                               at
neb, ase þe þet was of alle men veirest to biholden, and
face            one
spec swuðe sweteliche and so murie wordes þet heo
spake                                                  pleasant                      they
muhten þe deade arearen vrom deaðe to live. And
  might
wrouhte veole wundres, and dude veole meistries bivo-­
                                                        did                great works
ren hire eihsihðe, and scheawede hire his mihten: tolde
hire of his kinedome, and bead for to makien hire cwene
                                                 offered
of al þet he ouhte. Al þis ne help nout. Nes þis
                      owned                   helped nought Was not this
wunderlich hoker? Vor heo nes never wurðe vorte
                     disdain                                                       to
been his schelchine. Auh so, þuruh his debonerté, luve
                      scullion       But
hefde overkumen hine þet he seide on ende, ‘Dame, þu
had                            him                              at last
ert iweorred, and þine von beoð so stronge þet tu ne
        assailed                      foes
meiht nonesweis, wiðuten sukurs af me, etfleon hore
              in no way                                                  escape   their
honden, þet heo ne don þe to scheomefule deað. Ich
                        they
chulle vor þe luve of þe nimen þis fiht upon me, and
  shall                                     take
aredden þe of ham þet schecheð þine deað. Ich wot
     rid                   them
þauh for soðe þet ich schal bitweonen ham undervongen
                                           must
deaðes wunde, and ich hit wulle heorteliche vorto ofgon
                                                                                                   win
þine heorte. Nu, þeonne, biseche ich þe, vor þe luve þet
                                   then
ich kuðe þe, þet tu luvie me, hure and hure, efter þen
        show                                                at least
ilke dead deaðe, hwon þu noldes lives. Þes king
same                          since     wouldst not in my life
dude al þus, aredde hire of alle hire von, and was him-­
sulf to wundre ituked, and isleien on ende. Þuruh
                             injured              slain
miracle þauh he aros from deaðe to live. Nere þeos
                                                                             Would not be
ilke lefdi of vuele kunnes kunde, ʓif heo over alle þing
                       evil      nature    sprung
ne luve him her efter?
Þes king is Jesu Crist, Godes sune, þet al o þisse wise
wowude ure soule, þet þe deoflen heveden biset. And
   wooed    our                               devils
he, ase noble woware, efter monie messagers, and feole
                                                                                                   many
god deden, com vorto preoven his luve, and scheawede
                                               prove
þuruh knihtschipe þet he was luve-wurde, ase weren
                                                                  worthy
sumewhule knihtes iwuned for to donne. He dude him
   sometimes                      wont                   do             placed
ine turnement, and hefde vor his leofmonnes luve his
                                                                    lady's
schelde ine vihte, ase kene kniht, on everiche half
                                                                                         side
i-þurled. Þis scheld þet wreih his Godhed was his leove
   pierced                              covered                                        dear
licome þet was ispred o rode, brod ase scheld buven in
   body                                                                                above
his i-streiht earmes, and neruh bineoðen, ase þe on vot,
        stretched                          narrow                                   one foot
efter þet me weneð, sete upon þe oðer vote. . . . Efter
according to supposition
kene knihtes deaðe me hongeð heie ine chirche his.
                                       men    hang
schelde on his munegunge. Al so is þis scheld, þet is,
                              remembrance
þet crucifix iset ine chirche, ine swuche stude þet me hit
                                                                 such      place
sonest iseo, vorto þenchen þerbi o Jesu Cristes kniht-­
            may see
schipe þet he dude o rode.

VIII.

(A.D. 1356.^[7])

sir john mandeville.

For als moche as it is longe tyme passed, that ther was no generalle passage ne vyage over the see; and many men desiren for to here speke of the holy lond, and han therof gret solace and comfort; I John Maundevylle, Knyght, alle be it I be not worthi, that was born in Englond, in the town of Seynt Albones, passede the see, in the yeer of our Lord Jhesu Crist mcccxxii., in the day of Seynt Michelle; and hidre to have ben longe tyme over the see, and have seyn and gon thorghe manye dyverse londes, and many provynces and kingdomes and iles; and have passed thorghout Turkye, Tartarye, Percye, Surrye, Arabye, Egypt the highe and the lowe, Ermonye the litylle and the grete; thorgh Lybye, Caldee, and a gret partie of Ethiope; thorgh Amazoyne, Inde the lasse and the more, a gret partie; and thorgh out many othere iles, that ben abonten Inde; where dwellen many dyverse folkes, and of dyverse maneres and lawes, and of dyverse schappes of men. Of whiche londes and iles I schalle speke more pleynly hereaftre. And I schal devise ʓou sum partie of thinges that there ben, whan time schalle ben, aftre it may best come to my mynde; and specyally for hem, that wylle and are in purpos for to visite the holy citee of Jerusalem, and the holy places that are thereaboute. And I schalle telle the weye, that thei schalle holden thidre. For I have often tymes passed and ryden the way, with gode companye of many lordes: God be thonked.

And ʓee schulle undirstonde, that I have put this boke out of Latyn into Frensch, and translated it aʓen out of Frensche into Englyssch, that every man of my nacioun may undirstonde it.

But lordes and knyghtes and othere noble and worthi men, that conne Latyn but lityle, and han ben beʓonde the see, knowen and undirstonden, ʓif I seye trouthe or no, and ʓif I erre in devisynge, for forʓetynge, or elles; that thei mowe redresse it and amende it. For thinges passed out of longe tyme from a mannes mynde or from his syght, turnen sone into forʓetynge; because that mynde of man ne may not ben comprehended ne with­holden, for the freeltie of mankynde.

IX.

Bishop Pecock, Repressor of over much Blaming of the Clergy, Vol. I. 86.

(About A.D. 1450.)

evils of private judgment in religion.

Certis in this wise and in this now seid manor and bi this now seid cause bifille the rewful and wepeable de­struccioun of the worthi citee and universite of Prage, and of the hoole rewme of Beeme, as y have had ther of enformacioun ynouʓ. And now, aftir the destruccioun of the rewme, the peple ben glad for to resorte and turne aʓen into the catholik and general faith and loore of the chirche, and in her^[8] pouerte bildith up aʓen what was brent and throwun doun, and noon of her holdingis^[9] can thrive. But for that Crist in his prophecying muste needis be trewe, that ech kingdom devidid in hem silf schal be destruyed, therefore to hem^[10] bifille the now seid wrecchid myschaunce. God for his merci and pitee kepe Ynglond, that he come not into lijk daunce. But forto turne here fro aʓen unto our Bible men, y preie ʓe seie ʓe to me, whanne among you is rise a strijf in holdingis and opiniouns (bi cause that ech of you trustith to his owne studie in the Bible aloon, and wole have alle treuthis of mennys moral conversacioun there groundid), what iuge mai therto be assiyned in erthe, save resoun and the bifore seid doom^[11] of resoun? For thouʓ men schulden be iugis, ʓit so muste thei be bi uce of the seid resoun and doom of resoun; and if this be trewe, who schulde thanne better or so weel use, demene, and execute this resoun and the seid doom, as schulde tho men whiche han spende so miche labour aboute thilk craft? And these ben tho now bifore seid clerkis. And therefore, ʓe Bible men, bi this here now seid whiche ʓe muste needis graunte, for experience which ʓe han of the disturblaunce in Beeme, and also of the disturblaunce and dyverse feelingis had among ʓou silf now in Ynglond, so that summe of ʓou ben clepid Doc­tourmongers, and summe ben clepid Opinioun-holders, and summe ben Neutralis, that of so presumptuose a cisme abhominacioun to othere men and schame to ʓou it is to heere; rebuke now ʓou silf, for aa miche as ʓe wolden not bifore this tyme allowe, that resoun and his doom schulde have such and so greet interesse in the lawe of God and in expownyng of Holi Scripture, as y have seid and proved hem to have.

X.

(A.D. 1550.)

lever's sermons^[12]

As for example of ryche men, loke at the merchauntes of London, and ye shall se, when as by their honest vocacion, and trade of marchandise God hath endowed them with great abundaunce of ryches, then can they not be content with the prosperous welth of that vocacion to satisfye theym selves, and to helpe other, but their riches muste abrode in the countrey to bie fermes out of the handes of worshypfull gentlemen, honeste yeomen, and pore laborynge husbandes. Yea nowe also to bye per­sonages, and benefices, where as they do not onelye bye landes and goodes, but also lyves and soules of men, from God and the comen wealth, unto the Devyll and theim selves. A myschevouse marte of merchandrie is this, and yet nowe so comenly used, that therby shepe­heardes be turned to theves, dogges into wolves, and the poore flocke of Christ, redemed wyth his precious bloud, moste miserablye pylled and spoyled, yea cruelly devoured. Be thou marchaunt of the citye, or be thou gentleman in the contrey, be thou lawer, be you cour­tear, or what maner of man soever thou be, that can not, yea yf thou be master doctor of divinitie, that wyl not do thy duety, it is not lawfull for the to have personage, benefice, or any suche livyng, excepte thou do fede the flocke spiritually wyth Goddes worde, and bodelye wyth honeste hospitalitye. I wyll touch diverse kyndes of ryche men and rulers, that ye maye se what harme some of theim do wyth theyr ryches and authoritye. And especiallye I wyll begynne wyth theym that be best learned, for they seme belyke to do moste good wyth ryches and authoritie unto theim committed. If I therefore beynge a yonge simple scholer myghte be so bolde, I wolde aske an auncient, wyse, and well learned doctor of divinitie, whych cometh not at hys benefice, whether he were bounde to fede hys flocke in teachynge of Goddes worde, and kepyng hospitalitie or no? He wolde answere and saye: Syr, my curate supplieth my roume in teachynge, and my farmer in kepynge of house. Yea but master doctor by your leave, both these more for your vauntage then for the paryshe conforte: and there­fore the mo suche servauntes that ye kepe there, the more harme is it for your paryshe, and the more synne and shame for you. Ye may thynke that I am sumwhat saucye to laye synne and shame to a doctor of divinitie in thys solemne audience, for some of theim use to excuse the matter, and saye: Those whych I leave in myne absence do farre better than I shoulde do, yf I taryed there my selfe.

XI.

COWLEY.

(Works, printed by Sprat in 1668.^[13])

How this love came to be produced in me so early, is a hard question: I believe I can tell the particular little chance that filled my head first with such Chimes of Verse, as have never since left ringing there. For I remember when I began to read, and to take some plea­sure in it, there was wont to lie in my Mother's Parlour (I know not by what accident, for she her self never in her life read any Book but of Devotion), but there was wont to lie Spencers Works: this I happened to fall upon, and was infinitely delighted with the stories of the Knights, and Giants, and Monsters, and brave Houses, which I found every where there: (Though my under­standing had little to do with all this) and by degrees with the tinckling of the Rhyme and Dance of the Numbers, so that I think I had read him all over before I was twelve years old, and was thus made a Poet as irremediably as a Child is made an Eunuch. With these affections of mind, and my heart wholly set upon Letters, I went to the University; But was soon torn from thence by that violent Publick storm which would suffer nothing to stand where it did, but rooted up every Plant, even from the Princely Cedars to Me, the Hyssop. Yet I had as good fortune as could have befallen me in such a Tempest; for I was cast by it into the Family of one of the best Persons, and into the Court of one of the best Princesses of the World. Now though I was here engaged in wayes most contrary to the Original design of my life, that is, into much company, and no small business, and into a daily sight of Greatness, both Militant and Triumphant (for that was the state then of the English and French Courts), yet all this was so far from altering my Opinion, that it onely added the con­firmation of Reason to that which was before but Natural Inclination. I saw plainly all the Paint of that kind of Life, the nearer I came to it; and that Beauty which I did not fall in Love with, when, for ought I knew, it was reall, was not like to bewitch, or intice me, when I saw that it was Adulterate. I met with several great Persons, whom I liked very well, but could not perceive that any part of their Greatness was to be liked or desired, no more then I would be glad, or content to be in a storm, though I saw many ships which rid safely and bravely in it: A storm would not agree with my stomach, if it did with my Courage. Though I was in a crowd of as good company as could be found any where, though I was in business of great and honourable trust, though I eate at the best Table, and enjoyed the best conveniences for present subsistance that ought to be desired by a man of my condition in banishment and publick distresses; yet I could not abstain from renewing my old School-boys Wish in a Copy of Verses to the same effect.

XII.

GIBBON.

(A.D. 1776.)

the decline and fall of the roman empire.

CHAPTER I.

In the second century of the Christian Æra, the empire of Rome comprehended the fairest part of the earth, and the most civilized portion of mankind. The frontiers of that extensive monarchy were guarded by ancient renown and disciplined valour. The gentle, but powerful, influence of laws and manners had gradually cemented the union of the provinces. Their peaceful inhabitants enjoyed and abused the advantages of wealth and luxury. The image of a free constitution was pre­served with decent reverence: the Roman senate ap­peared to possess the sovereign authority, and devolved on the emperors all the executive powers of govern­ment.

CHAPTER II.

It was once proposed to discriminate the slaves by a peculiar habit; but it was justly apprehended that there might be some danger in acquainting them with their own numbers. Without interpreting, in their utmost strictness, the liberal appellations of legions and myriads, we may venture to pronounce that the proportion of slaves, who were valued as property, was more consi­derable than that of servants, who can be computed only as an expense. The youths of a promising genius were instructed in the arts and sciences, and their price was ascertained by the degree of their skill and talents. Almost every profession, either liberal or mechanical, might be found in the household of an opulent senator. The ministers of pomp and sensuality were multiplied beyond the conception of modern luxury. It was more for the interest of the merchant or manufacturer to purchase, than to hire his workmen; and in the country, slaves were employed as the cheapest and most laborious instruments of agriculture. To confirm the general observation, and to display the multitude of slaves, we might allege a variety of particular instances. It was discovered, on a very melancholy occasion, that four hundred slaves were maintained in a single palace of

Rome.

MORRIS.

(A.D. 1872.)

love is enough.

O friend, I have seen her no more, and her mourning
Is alone and unhelped — yet to-night or to-morrow
Somewhat nigher will I be to her love and her longing.
Lo, to thee, friend, alone of all folk on the earth
These things have I told: for a true man I deem thee
Beyond all men call true; yea, a wise man moreover
And hardy and helpful; and I know thy heart surely
That thou holdest the world nought without me thy fosterling.
Come, leave all, awhile I it may be, as time weareth,
With new life in our hands we shall wend us back hither.

Page 47.

. . . . . . .
One beckoneth her back hitherward — even Death —
And who was that, Beloved, but even I?
Yet though her feet and sunlight are drawn nigh
The cold grass where he lieth like the dead,
To ease your hearts a little of their dread
I will abide her coming, and in speech
He knoweth, somewhat of his welfare teach.
. . . . . . .
Hearken, O Pharamond, why camest thou hither?
. . . . . . .
I came seeking Death; I have found him belike.
. . . . . . .
In what land of the world art thou lying, Pharamond?
. . . . . . .
In a land 'twixt two worlds; nor long shall I dwell there.
. . . . . . .
Who am I, Pharamond, that stand here beside thee?
. . . . . . .
The Death I have sought — thou art welcome; I greet thee.
. . . . . . .

Such a name have I had, but another name have I.
. . . . . . .
Art thou God, then, that helps not until the last season?
. . . . . . .
Yea, God am I surely; yet another name have I.
. . . . . . .
Methinks as I hearken, thy voice I should wot of.
. . . . . . .
I called thee, and thou cam'st from thy glory and kingship.
. . . . . . .
I was King Pharamond, and love overcame me.
. . . . . . .
Pharamond, thou say'st it. — I am Love and thy master.
. . . . . . .
Sooth did'st thou say when thou call'dst thyself Death.
. . . . . . .
Though thou diest, yet thy love and thy deeds shall I quicken.
. . . . . . .
Be thou God, be thou Death, yet I love thee and dread not.
. . . . . . .
Pharamond, while thou livedst, what thing wert thou loving?
. . . . . . .
A dream and a lie — and my death — and I love it.
. . . . . . .
Pharamond, do my bidding, as thy wont was aforetime.
. . . . . . .
What wilt thou have of me, for I wend away swiftly?
. . . . . . .
Open thine eyes, and behold where thou liest!
. . . . . . .
It is little — the old dream, the old lie is about me.
. . . . . . .
Why faintest thou, Pharamond? Is love then unworthy?
. . . . . . .
Then hath God made no world now, nor shall make here­after.

Wouldst thou live if thou mightst in this fair worlds O Pharamond?
·······
Yea, if she and truth were; nay, if she and truth were not,
·······
O long shalt thou live; thou art here in the body,
Where nought but thy spirit I brought in days bygone.
Ah, thou hearkenest! — And where then of old hast thou heard it?
·······
O mock me not, Death; or, Life, hold me no longer;
For that sweet strain I hear that I heard once a-dreaming;
Is it death coming nigher, or life coming back that brings it?
Or rather my dream come again as aforetime?
·······
Look up, O Pharamond! canst thou see aught about thee? — Page 76.

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It is a shame for any Englishman to look coldly upon his mother tongue, and I hope that this Book may help forward the study of English in all its stages. Let the beginner first buy the Gothic and Anglo-Saxon Gospels, with Wickliffe's and Tyndale's versions; these, printed in four columns side by side, make a moderate volume, and are published by J. Smith, Soho Square, Lon­don. Let him next get Thorpe's Analecta Anglo-Saxonica (a glossary is attached), published by Arch, Cornhill; the extracts given here range from the year 890 to 1205. Then let him go on to Dr. Morris' Specimens of Early English, which will take him from 1230 to 1400; Mr. Skeat's Specimens will bring him down to 1579: these last two books come from the Clarendon Press and are sold by Macmillan & Co. The great English works, from 1579 to 1873, maybe supposed to be already well known to all men of any education. The thorough-going English student must always keep his eye fixed upon Dr. March's Anglo-Saxon Grammar (Sampson Low, Son, and Mars­ton), and upon Dr. Morris' Historical Outlines of English Accidence (Macmillan and Co.). He will, it is to be hoped, forthwith become a subscriber to the Early English Text Society. May many an Englishman begin his studies in his own tongue, mindful of Virgil's line:

‘Antiquam exquirite Matrem.’

1. Stephens, Runic Monuments, I. 405.
2. Bosworth, Origin of the Germanic Languages, p. 57.
3. This Psalm may be compared with the version made four hun­dred and fifty years later, at p. 145 of my work. Both may be found in the Psalter (Surtees Society).
4. Thorpe's Analecta, p. 87. He thinks that this is East Anglian. Here we see the Anglian diphthong œ at the end of words, just as on the Ruthwell Cross, four hundred years earlier.
5. I give here only one specimen of English between this date (1090) and 1350, since so many pieces, written in that interval, are to be found in my book.
6. This is the only passage, of all the specimens in this Chapter, that was not written in the Anglian country, or that did not feel the Anglian influence. French words begin to come in.
7. Morris, Specimens of Early English, page 198.
8. their.
9. their tenets.
10. them.
11. judgement.
12. Arber's Reprint, page 29.
13. Page 144, near the end of the Volume.