nly zone," &c.

Yet another:--

"What is a man the better,
A man of worldly mould,
Though he be gainful getter
Of richest gems and gold,
With every kind well filled
Of goods in ripe array,
And though for him be tilled
A thousand fields a day?" &c.

Again:--

"I have wings like a bird, and more swiftly can fly
Far over this earth to the roof of the sky,
And now must I feather thy fancies, O mind,
To leave the mid earth and its earthlings behind," &c.

And for a last word:--

"Thus quoth Alfred--'If thou growest old
And hast no pleasure, spite of weal and gold,
And goest weak,--then thank thy Lord for this,
That He hath sent thee hitherto much bliss,
For life and light and pleasures past away;
And say thou, Come and welcome, come what may.'"

These are little bits taken casually: to each of the poems I have added
suitable comment in prose. Mr. Bohn in his well-known series has added
my verse to Mr. Fox's prose Boethius.

The Anglo-Saxon preface to that volume commences thus: "Alfred, King,
was the translator of this book: and from book-Latin turned it into Old
English, as it is now done. Awhile he put word for word; awhile sense
for sense. He learned this book, and translated it for his own people,
and turned it into song, as it is now done." His Old English song, that
is, Anglo-Saxon alliteration, is all now modernised in this curious
little book of English metres. It was well praised by many critics; but
at present is out of the market. When I am "translated" myself, all
these old works of mine will rise again in a voluminous complete
edition.

* * * * *

"The Alfred Jubilee," on that great king's thousandth year, 1848, is one
of the exploits of my literary life, undertaken and accomplished by Mr.
Evelyn, the brothers Brereton, Dr. Giles, and myself in the year 1848,
chiefly at Wantage, where Alfred was born. We arranged meetings and
banquets in several places, notably Liverpool, where Mr. Bramwell Moore,
the mayor, gave a great feast in commemoration, a medal was struck, the
Jubilee edition of King Alfred's works was at least begun at Dr. Giles's
private printing-press, whilst at Wantage itself 20,000 people collected
from all parts for old English games, speeches, appropriate songs, such
as "To-day is the day of a thousand years" from my pen, collections for
a local school and college as a