terse expression. We will look at a short extract from the condensed and modernized version found in Morley's English Authors.* "Then came from the moor under the misty hills, Grendel stalking: the wicked spoiler meant in the lofty hall to snare one of mankind. He strode under the clouds until he saw the winehouse, golden hall of men. Came then faring to the house the joyless man, he rushed straight on the door, fast with fire-hardened bands, struck with his hands, dragged open the hall's mouth: quickly then trod the fiend on the stained floor, went wroth of mood, and from his eyes stood forth a loathsome light, likest to flame. He saw in the house many war-men sleeping all together, then was his mood laughter. Hope of a sweet glut had arisen in him. But it was not for him after that night to eat more of mankind. The wretched wight seized quickly a sleeping warrior, slit him unawares, bit his bone-locker, drank his blood, in morsels swallowed him: soon had he all eaten, feet and fingers. Nearer forth he stept, laid hands upon the doughty-minded warrior at his rest, but Beowulf reached forth a hand and hung upon his arm. Soon as the evil-doer felt that there was not in mid-earth a stronger hand-grip, he became fearful in heart. Not for that could he escape the sooner, though his mind was bent on flight. He would flee into his den, seek the pack of devils; his trial there was such as in his life-days he had never before found. The hall thundered, the ale of all the Danes and earls was spilt. Angry, fierce were the strong fighters, the hall was full of the din. It was great wonder that the wine-hall stood above the warlike beasts, that the fair earth-home fell not to the ground. But within and without it was fast with iron bands cunningly forged. Over the North Danes stood dire fear, on every one of those who heard the gruesome whoop. The friend of earls held fast the deadly guest, would not leave him while living. Then drew a warrior of Beowulf an old sword of his father's for help of his lord. The sons of strife sought then to hew on every side, they knew not that no war-blade would cut into the wicked scather; but Beowulf had foresworn every edge. Hygelac's proud kinsman had the foe of God in hand. The fell wretch bore pain, a deadly wound gaped on his shoulder, the sinews sprang asunder, the bone-locker burst, to Beowulf was warstrength given. Grendel fled away death-sick, to seek a sad dwelling under the fen shelters; his life's end was come." When Hrothgar died, the hero of the poem ascended the throne; and after an adventurous reign of fifty years, he died from wounds received in slaying a terrible fire-fiend. This, the most ancient and the most interesting of the old English poems, is full of the superstitions of heathen times, and yet it presents a character instinct with chivalry and generosity. It is the picture of "an age brave, generous, right-principled." Many strange but forcible compound words, many highly imaginative metaphors, and five similes are found in this venerable poem. It is supposed to be allegorical, the monster representing a poisonous exhalation from the marshes. If the supposition be a correct one, this literary relic displays the predilection of our ancestors for allegorical expression. Although the action of this heroic story was not later than the beginning of the sixth century, the only MS. which has preserved the narrative for us was written not earlier than the close of the tenth century. This most valuable of English records, now kept in the British Museum, was the work of a monk who wrote it from dictation. The writing is continuous, resembling our manuscript of prose. There is no mechanical separation of verses; nor is there any rhyming, for rhyme was an adornment unknown in English poetry, until after the Norman Conquest. But in this, and in all other Old-English (Anglo-Saxon) poems, a rude alliteration is found, which is explained in the discussion of "The Vision of Piers Plowman." The next important poem demanding attention in this period of our literature is free from the pagan sentiments of Beowulf. It was written about two centuries after the Angles and Saxons began their invasion of England. By that time they had been won to the Christian faith, and were ready to receive with gladness a poetical versification of passages from the Bible, by which the sacred teachings could be more easily remembered, Died 680.] and more entertainingly diffused. A monk named Caedmon (Kăd'mon), was the first Englishman who has left us poetry inspired by the chaste beauties of Christian sentiment, and he was the author of such a Metrical Paraphrase of the Scriptures. Connected with his work, we have one of the most interesting traditions found in English literature. He was an ignorant, and a very devout man. Sitting, one evening, with a company of rustics, who were whiling away the time by singing and by recitation, his ignorance compelled him to be silent when it was his turn to help on the entertainment. Bemoaning his stupidity, "he left the house of festivity, went out to the stables of the beasts, whose custody on that night was intrusted to him;" and there in his restless sleep a strange figure appeared to him and bade him sing. "I cannot sing," said Caedmon; "I have come out hither from the feast because I could not sing." Then he who spoke to him said, "But you have to sing to me." "What must I sing?" asked Caedmon; and the voice replied, "Sing the origin of creatures." At once an inspiration came to the ignorant peasant, and the words of his song lingered in his memory when he awoke. Gifts of poesy were continued to him. The people of the neighboring monastery pronounced his new endowment a miracle, called him a favored child of heaven, received him into their order, and ever treated him with deference. Such is the tradition. The marvelous story may have been told for the purpose of winning the reverent esteem of the people for Caedmon's teachings. But without the story he would have been eminent among men. His work exerted an extraordinary influence upon the national modes of thought, and won for him the deep reverence of five centuries of Englishmen. It has been maintained that this great religious poet of the Anglo-Saxons suggested to Milton the subject of his renowned epic. That Milton must have read Caedmon with great interest seems probable, in view of the fact that the MS. of Caedmon, discovered in 1654, was first published in 1655, and that it discussed the Fall of Man, the very subject upon which Milton's imagination was at work. Both describe wicked angels, their expulsion from heaven, their descent into hell, and the creation of the world. In Satan's soliloquy in Hell we find a passage (others might be cited), in which the great English epic poet of the seventeenth century uses thoughts closely resembling those that were written by the monk of the seventh century. These poems of the Old English period, one produced while our ancestors were yet in paganism, the other after they had accepted Christianity, are the only extended works in verse which have been preserved. The shorter poems are not numerous. Fragments of verse and two or three unbroken passages are found amid the prose of the Saxon Chronicle. They are always spirited, but serious. They are the utterances of a people who, though unaccustomed to give vent to their feelings, yet, when excited by some great occasion, expressed themselves with earnest solemnity. They never show us the sparkle of lyric verse, the national character was not adapted to its production. OLD ENGLISH PROSE. B. 849.] The honored name of King Alfred stands pre-eminent among the writers of prose in Old English. No sooner had he effected the deliverance of his people from their Danish enemies, than he eagerly set to work to lift them out of their bondage to ignorance. From various quarters, he invited men of learning to his court. He strove to secure the higher education of the clergy. What he could do, he did, to restore the literary work that had been destroyed when the Danes burned English monasteries. In order to diffuse knowledge, he had the standard writings on religion, morals, geography, and history, translated into the language of the people. But he not only gave patronage to learning, he also gave his most earnest personal efforts in contributing to the national literature. At a time of life when the task must have been irksome enough, he applied himself to a careful course of training in order to prepare himself for the work of a writer. By these means his patriotic desires, to a great extent, were realized; and, while he succeeded in elevating his country, he won for himself a lofty place among royal authors. King Alfred's chief works were translations of Bede's Ecclesiastical History, the Ancient History of Orosius, and Boethius On the Consolations Afforded by Philosophy. But he was something more than a mere translator. He dealt fairly with the text of an author, cutting away redundancies, or making additions, as he saw fit, and writing such elaborate prefaces, that the new matter introduced by way of comment or illustration, entitles him to be called an original author. His writings are pronounced "the purest specimens of Anglo-Saxon prose." It is reasonable to suppose, that the patronage and the example of the great king must have induced the writing of many works in the native language; but time has spared us very few of them. One grand monument of prose literature, the Saxon Chronicle, still remains. It exists in seven separate forms, each named from the monastery in which it was completed. The usual unauthentic account of this work is that it was originally composed at the sug gestion of King Alfred, and, beginning with the arrival of Julius Cæsar in Britain, was brought down to the year 891, and that from that time it was continued as a contemporary record until the accession of Henry II., in 1154. This chronicle is exceedingly interesting, as it is the first ever written in Teutonic prose, and is also most valuable, since it furnishes trustworthy statements concerning the early history of the English people. At the beginning, the work is crude, meagre in its details, and altogether devoid of the qualities we expect to find in an elaborate historical narration; but as the record draws towards its close, the chroniclers occasionally rise into sustained descriptions, display vigor of style and a sober eloquence. "Putting aside the Hebrew annals, there is not anywhere known a series of early vernacular histories comparable to the Saxon Chronicles." Their close marks the close of the old language as well as of the old literature; for before the chronicler had thrown down his pen, he had begun to confuse his grammar and to corrupt his vocabulary. The literature thus far referred to was written for the amusement or instruction of comparatively ignorant people; much of it was intended for recital to those who could not read. But there were monks in England who were studying and writing in Latin, then the only language of the republic of learning. During the first five or six centuries of England's history, her most highly cultivated men were contributing to the well-stocked literature of Rome, and were withholding the fruits of their mental toil from the literature of their own nation. Two of these writers of Latin, Bede and Asser, by discussing subjects connected with the history of England, have bequeathed to us most valuable information. B. 673.] Bede, surnamed the Venerable, was placed in his monastery when seven years of age. The rest of his biography is contained in the following brief passage, translated from one of his works: แ Spending all the remaining time of my life in that monastery, I wholly applied myself to the study of Scripture, and amidst the observance of regular discipline, and the daily care of singing in the church, I always took delight in learning, teaching and writing. In the nineteenth year of my age I received deacon's orders; in the thirtieth, those of the priesthood, * from which time till * * |