Page:King Alfred's Version of the Consolations of Boethius.djvu/241



Thus the old taleAlfred told us, West Saxons' king.He shewed the canning, The craft of songmen.Keenly he longed Unto the peopleto put forth songs Men to make merry,manifold stories, Lest a wearinessshould ward away The man self-filled,that small heed taketh Of such in his pride.Again I must speak, Take up my singing,the tale far known Weave for mortals;let who will listen.

'Twas long agowhen the eastern Goths Sent from Scythiatheir swarms of shieldmen, With multitudes harriedmany a nation. Rh