The following are all translations of Book 2, Meter 5, of Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy. As you can tell, it is a version of the myth that there was once a Golden Age in which everything was beautiful and nothing hurt, when all were peaceful, loving, innocent, kind, virtuous, and gentle. (And I'm a shepherd in the Outer Hebrides.)
Discuss the development of English as you can trace it through these passages. At the very end is the Latin and its translation in the most recent Loeb Classical Library edition. Yogh throughout has been transcribed here as 3.
King Alfred's Anglo-Saxon Version of Boethius' De consolatione philosophiae: With a Literal English Translation, Notes, and Glossary. Ed. Samuel Fox. London, 1864. This is as presented here with Fox's edition in the first column and his translation in the second.
Eala hu 3esæli3 seo forme eld was þises middan 3eardes. þa ælcum men þuhte 3eno3 on þære eorþan wæstmum. Næron þa weli3e hamas. ne mistlice swotmettas. ne drincas. ne diorwyrþra hræ3la hi ne 3irndan. forþam hi þa 3it næran. ne hio nanwuht ne 3esawon. ne ne 3eherdon. Ne 3emdon hie nanes fyrenlustes. buton swiþe 3emetlice þa 3ecynd beeodan. ealne we3 hi æton æne on dæ3. and þæt wæs to æfennes. Treowa wæstmas hi æton & wyrta. nalles scir win hi ne druncan. ne nanne wætan hi ne cuþon wið huni3e men3an. ne seolocenra hræ3la mid mistlicum bleowum hi ne 3imdon. Ealne we3 hi slepon ute on triowa sceadum. hluterra wella wæter hi druncon, ne 3eseah nan cepa ealand. ne weroþ. ne 3eherde non mon þa 3et nanne sciphere. ne furþon ymbe nan 3efeoht sprecan. ne seo eorþe þa 3et besmiten mid ofsle3enes monnes blode. ne mon furðum 3ewundod. ne monn ne 3eseah ða 3et yfel willende men. nænne weorþscipe næfdon. ne hi non mon ne lufude. Eala þæt ure tida nu ne mihtan weorðan swilce. Ac nu manna 3itsun3 is swa byrnende. swa þæt on þære helle. seo is on þam munte ðe Ætne hatte. on þam ie3lande þe Sicilia hatte. se munt bið simle swefle birnende. & ealla þa neah stowa þær ymbutan forbærnð. Eala hwæt se forma 3itsere wære. þe ærest þa eorþan ongan delfan æfter 3olde. & æfter 3immum. & þa frecnan deorwurþnessa funde ðe ær behyd wæs & behelod mid ðære eorþan
O, how happy was the first age of this middle-earth, when to every man there seemed enough in the fruits of the earth! There were not then splendid houses, nor various sweetmeats nor drinks; nor were they desirous of costly apparel, for they as yet were not, nor did they see or hear anything of them. They cared not for any luxury, but very temperately followed nature. They always ate once in the day, and that was in the evening. They ate the fruits of trees, and herbs. They drank no pure wine, nor knew they how to mix any liquor with honey, nor cared they for silken garments of various colours. They always slept out in the shade of trees. They drank the water of clear springs. No merchant visited island or coast, nor did any man as yet hear of any ship-army, nor even the mention of any war. The earth was not yet polluted with the blood of slain men, nor evil-minded men. Such had no honour; nor did any man love them. Alas, that our times cannot now become such! But now the covetousness of men is as burning as the fire in the hell, which is in the mountain that is called Ætna, in the island that is called Sicily. The mountain is always burning with brimstone, and burns up all the near places thereabout. Alas, what was the first avaricious man, who first began to dig the earth after gold, and after gems, and found the dangerous treasure, which before was hid and covered with the earth!
The Complete Works. Ed. Walter W. Skeat. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1894. 2: 40-41. This is in the first column, which has been supplied with modern (that is to say: late-19th-century) punctuation; I suspect <þ> has been regularized to <th>, as well, but do not know to what degree there may have been a <3> in the base.
The second column has Caxton's print (STC 3199 on Reel 1), with original punctuation.
Blisful was the first age of men! They helden hem apayed with the metes that the trewe feldes broughten forth. They ne distroyede ne deceivede nat hem-self with outrage. They weren wont lightly to slaken hir hunger at even with acornes of okes. They ne coude nat medly the yifte of Bachus to the cleer hony; that is to seyn, they coude make no piment nor clarree; ne they coude nat medle the brighte fleeses of the contree of Seriens with the venim of Tyrie; this to seyn, they coude nat deyen whyte fleeses of Serien contree with the blode of a maner shelfisshe that men finden in Tyrie, with whiche blood men deyen purpur. They slepen hoolsome slepes up-on the gras, and dronken of the renninge wateres; and layen under the shadwes of the heye pyn-trees. Ne no gest ne straungere ne carf yit the heye see with ores or with shippes; ne they ne hadde seyn yit none newe strondes, to leden marchaundyse in-to dyverse contrees. Tho weren the cruel clariouns ful hust and ful stille, ne blood y-shad by egre hate ne hadde nat deyed yit armures. For wher-to or which woodnesse of enemys wolde first moeven armes, whan they seyen cruel woundes, ne none medes be of blood y-shad?
I wolde that oure tymes sholde torne ayein to the olde maneres! But the anguissous love of havinge brenneth in folk more cruely than the fyr of the mountaigne Ethna, that ay brenneth. Allas! what was he that first dalf up the gobetes or the weightes of gold covered under erthe, and the precious stones that wolden han ben hid? He dalf up precious perils. That is to seyn, that he that hem first up dalf, he dalf up a precious peril; for-why, for the preciousnesse of swiche thinge, hath many man ben in peril.Blysful was the firste eage of men / they helden hem payd with the metes that the triew feldes broughten forth They ne destroyed ne deceyued hem self with oultrage(1) / They weren wonte lightly to slaken her honger at euen with acornes of okes / They ne couthe not medle the yefte of bachus to the clere hony / that is to seye . they couthe make no pyment or clarrey. They ne couthe not medle the brighte flyees of the countrey of siriens with the venym of tyrie / that is to seyne they couthe not dyen whyte flieses of sirien contrey with the blode of a maner shelfish that men finden in Tyrie with whiche blood men dyen purpure. They slepten holsomme slepes on the gras & dronken of the Rennyng waters. and leyen vnder shadowes of the high pyne trees / ne no geste or straunger ne carf yet the high see with oores or with shippes / Ne they ne had seyn yet noo newe strondes to leden marchandyse into diuerce countrees tho were the cruel clarions ful huyst and ful still / ne blode shad by egre hate ne had not dyed armures. for wher to or whiche wedenes(2) of enemyes wold firste meouen armes whan they sawe cruel woundes. ne no medes ben of blode shad / I wolde that oure tymes shold tornen ayen to the olde maners / but thanguisshous loue of hauyng brenneth in folke more cruelly than the fire of the montayne of Ethna that aye brenneth. alas what was he that first dalf vp the gobettes or the weightes of gold couerd vnder the erthe. & the precious stones that wolden han be hid / he dalf vp precious parils / that is to seyne that he that hem first vp dalf. he dalf vp precious perile. for why. for the preciousnes of suche thing hath many a man ben in peryle
The Complete Works. Ed. Walter W. Skeat. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1894. 1: 380-82. The punctuation is no doubt also Skeat's. I leave his emendations unmarked, but for a line he supplies that exists in no MS copy.
A blisful lyf, a paisible and a swete
Ledden the peples in the former age;
They helde hem payed of fruites, that they ete,
Which that the feldes yave hem by usage;
They ne were nat forpampred with outrage;
Unknowen was the quern and eek the melle;
They eten mast, hawes, and swich pounage,
And dronken water of the colde welle.Yit nas the ground nat wounded with the plough,
But corn up-sprong, unsowe of mannes hond,
The which they gniden, and eete nat half y-nough.
No man yit knew the forwes of his lond;
No man the fyr out of the flint yit fond;
Un-korven and un-grobbed lay the vyne;
No man yit in the morter spyces grond
To clarre, ne to sause of galantyne.No mader, welde, or wood no litestere
Ne knewe; the flees was of his former hewe;
No flesh ne wiste offence of egge or spere;
No coyn ne knew man which was fals or trewe;
No ship yit karf the wawes grene and blewe;
No marchaunt yit ne fette outlandish ware;
No trompes for the werres folk ne knewe,
Ne tours heye, and walles rounde or square.What sholde it han avayled to werreye?
Ther lay no profit, ther was no richesse,
But cursed was the tyme, I dar wel seye,
That men first dide hir swety bysinesse
To grobbe up metal, lurkinge in darknesse,
And in the riveres first gemmes soghte.
Allas! than sprong up al the cursednesse
Of covetyse, that first our sorwe broghte!Thise tyraunts putte hem gladly nat in pres,
No wildnesse, ne no busshes for to winne
Ther poverte is, as seith Diogenes,
Ther as vitaile is ek so skars and thinne
That noght but mast or apples is ther-inne.
But, ther as bagges ben and fat vitaile,
Ther wol they gon, and spare for no sinne
With al hir ost the cite for tassaile.Yit were no paleis-chaumbres, ne non halles;
In caves and in wodes softe and swete
Slepten this blissed folk with-oute walles,
On gras or leves in parfit quiete.
Ne doun of fetheres, ne no bleched shete
Was kid to hem, but in seurtee they slepte;
Hir hertes were al oon, with-oute galles,
Everich of hem his feith to other kepte.Unforged was the hauberk and the plate;
The lambish peple, voyd of alle vyce,
Hadden no fantasye to debate,
But ech of hem wolde other wel cheryce;
No pryde, non envye, non avaryce,
No lord, no taylage by no tyrannye;
Humblesse and pees, good feith, the emperice,
[Fulfilled erthe of olde curtesye].Yit was not Iupiter the likerous,
That first was fader of delicacye,
Come in this world; ne Nembrot, desirous
To reynen, had nat maad his toures hye.
Allas, allas! now may men wepe and crye!
For in our dayes nis but covetyse
And doublenesse, and tresoun and envye,
Poysoun, manslauhtre, and mordre in sondry wyse.Finit Etas prima. Chaucers.
In acrostics at the end of his translation, John Walton informs us that he made the translation for Elizabeth Berkeley, of the same family that John Trevisa had previously worked and translated for. Political motives may have lain behind the Berkeley family's support for translations from Latin into the vernacular, but these are not of immediate concern.
Walton, John, trans. De consolatione philosophiae. By Boethius. Ed. Mark Science. EETS os 170. London: Oxford UP, 1927. Science adds modern punctuation, including hyphens to connect things written as two words where we would expect one. Slightly repunctuated. This is given in the first column.
The Boke of Comfort Called in Laten Boetius de Consolatione philosophie, Translated in to Englesse tonge. Tavistok, 1525. STC 3200. Reel 604. This was printed by Thomas Rychard, monk at the monastery of Tavistok "of Denshyre," for Robert Langdon. This is in the second column, with original punctuation.
Full wonder blissful was þat raþer age
When mortal men couthe holde hem-selfen payed,
To fede þeym-selfe withoute suche outrage,
Wiþ mete þat trewe feldes haue arrayed;
Wiþ acornes þaire hunger was alayed,
And so þai couthe sese þaire talent;
Thei hadde 3it no queynte craft assaied
As clarry for to make ne pyment.Ful wonder blysful was that rather age
What tyme yt men couth halde them self a payd
To fede them self wyth out suche outrage
Wyth mete that trew feldes had a rayd
Wyth akernes ther hunger was a layd
And so they couth cessen ther talent
They had as yet no quenty craft assayd
As clarry for to make / ne pymentTo deen purpure couthe þei noght be-þynke
The white flees with venym tyryen;
Þe rennyng ryuer 3af hem lusty drynke,
And holsom sleep þei took vpon þe grene;
Þe pynes þat so full of braunches been,
Þat was þaire hous to kepen vnder schade;
The se to kerue no schippes were þere seen,
Þer was no man þat marchaundise made.To dye purper couthe they not bethynke
The whyte flees wyth venem tyryen
The rennynge ryuer gaue them lusty drynke
And holsom slepe they toke vpon the grene
The Pynus that so ful of branches ben
That was ther hous to kepe them vnder shade
The see to kerue no shyppes were ther seyn
Ther was no man that marchaundyse madeThay liked noght to sailen vp and doun,
But kepe hem-selfen where þei weren bred;
Tho was ful huscht þe cruel clarioun;
For egre hate þer was no blood isched,
Ne þer-wiþ was non armour 3it be-bled;
For in þat tyme who durste haue be so wood
Suche bitter woundes þat he nolde haue dred,
Wiþouten reward for to lese his blood.Them leked not to saylen vp & downe
But kept them self ther they were bred
Tho was ful husche the cruel claryoune
Wyth eyger hate ther was no blod y shed
Ne ther wyth was none armour yet be bled
For in that tyme ho durst haue ben so wood
Suche bytter wondes yt he wold not dred
Wythouten mede for to lese hys bloodI wolde oure tyme myght turne certanly
And þise maners alwey wiþ vs dwelle.
But loue of hauyng brenneþ feruently,
More fersere þan þe verray fuyre of helle.
Allas! who was þat man þat wolde hym melle
Wiþ gold and gemmes, þat were keuered þus,
Þat first bygan to myne--I can not telle,
Bot þat he fond a parel precious.I wold oure tyme myght tornen certenly
And thes maners alway wyth ous dwel
But loue of hauynge brenneth feruently
More ferser than the very fyre of hel
Allas ho was that man yt wold hym mel
Thys gold & gemmes yt were couered thus
That fyrst began to myne I can not tel
But that he found a perel precyous
Colville, George, trans. Boetius De consolatione philosophiae: The Boke of Boetius, Called the Comforte of Philosophye. London, 1556. STC 3201. Reel 281. Also ed. Ernest Belfort Bax. Tudor Library 5. London: Nutt, 1897. The 1556 ed. notes an alias, Coldewel.
The first age of man was much happye that was contented with such as ye fields brought forth without labor of man, and was not hurte wyth great excesse of metes & drynkes, they were wont to satysfye theyr long hunger wyth lytell acorns of the oke, that is to say, they sought not for deynetye meates, and knewe howe to myng the wyne with honye, that is to saye: they knewe not pleasaunt drynks, nor how to dye the white fleses of woll of Seria (a countrey so called) with the Venim of tyre, that is to saye: to make purple coloure wyth the bloude of shell fyshes of Tyre, a countrye where there be manye suche fyshes, but were contentyd wyth such colors as the shepe did bere. They could then be contentyd to take holesom slepes vpon the grasse & knew no beddes of downe, and drynke fayre rennyng water for lacke of wyne and ale, and also dwell vnder the shadowe of the hygh pyne tree for lacke of curyous howses. Then had no straunger or merchaunt sailed on the seas with ship nor sene straunge costes to conuey their merchaundise to diuers countries and places. Then ye cruel trompets of warre made no noyse to cal men to battel, nor shedyng of bloud with mortal hate had imbrewid the fearefull armour, that is to say: then was there no warre. What crewell enemye would fyrst moue war before he sawe crewell woundes, or sawe some profyt by battell and warre that is to saye: then was there no cause to fyght. I would our conditions were turnyd againe into those olde maners. But the greate gredye couytousnes to catche and haue ryches, brennyth more feruently then the hyll callyd Ethna. Alas who was he that fyrste doluyd vp the peces of golde that laye hyd in the earth, and the precyous stons that wer contentyd to haue leyen hid and vnknoen. Surely he dygged vp precious peryls, for many daungers mankynde do suffer for the same.
Queen Elizabeth's Englishings of Boethius, De consolatione philosophiae, ad 1593, Plutarch, De curiositate, Horace, De arte poetica (Part), ad 1598. Ed. Caroline Pemberton. EETS os 113. London, 1899.
This survives in PRO Domestic Elizabeth 289. Most of the Meters are in the Queen's hand, as is the opening portion of the Prose, but the rest is in the hand of Thomas Windebank, Clerk of the Signet 1568, Clerk of the Privy Seal 1598. The punctuation is apparently editorial, based on a Latin edition. Note how a major poetic device is alliteration; 'tis oft claimed alliteration was a medieval device surpassed by rhyme in the renaissance, but this is less than a score years before the KJV.
Happy to muche the formar Age
With faithful fild content,
Not Lost by sluggy Lust,
that wontz the Long fastz
To Louse by son-got Acorne.
that knew not Baccus giftz
With molten hony mixed
Nor Serike shining flise
With tirius venom die.
Sound slipes Gaue the grasse
ther drink the running streme
Shades gaue the hiest pine.
The depth of sea they fadomd not
Nor wares chosen from fur
Made Stranger find new shores.
Than wer Navies(3) Stil,
Nor bloudshed by Cruel hate
Had fearful weapons(4) staned.
What first fury to foes shuld
any armes rayse,
Whan Cruel woundz he Saw
and no reward for bloude?
Wold God agane Our formar time
to wonted maners fel!
But Gridy getting Loue burnes
Sorar than Etna wt her flames.
O who the first man was
of hiden Gold the waight
Or Gemmes that willing lurkt
The deare danger digd?
Five Bookes of Philosophicall Comfort. London, 1609. Dedication signed "I.T.," but the STC says "really M. Walpole." STC 3202. Reel 625.
This translation (in the first column) was used in the first Loeb Boethius (1918, given in the second column; for the later Loeb translation, see the end), where was provided this explanation, sans a conceited comment (xiii-xiv):
A seventeenth-century translation of the Consolatio Philosophiae is here presented with such alterations as are demanded by a better text, and the requirements of modern scholarship. There was, indeed, not much to do, for the rendering is most exact. . . . We look for fine English and poetry in an Elizabethan; but we do not often get from him such loyalty to the original as is here displayed.
Too muche the former age was blest,
When fields their pleased owners failed not,
Who with no slouthfull lust opprest
Broke their long fasts with akornes eas'ly got.
No wine with honie mixed was,
Nor did they silke in purple colours steepe,
They slept vpon the wholesome grasse,
And their coole drink did fetch from riuers deepe.
The Pines did hide them with their shade,
No Merchants through the dang'rous billowes went,
Nor with desire of gainefull trade
Their trafficke into forraine Countreyes sent.
Then no shrill Trumpets did amate
The minds of Souldiers with their daunting sounds,
Nor weapons were through deadly hate
Dy'd with the dreadful bloud of gaping wounds.
For how could any furie draw
The mind of man to stirre vp warres in vaine,
When nothing, but fierce wounds he saw,
And for his blood no recompence should gaine.
O that the ancient maners would
In these our latter happelesse times returne.
Now the desire of hauing gold
Doth like the flaming fires of Ætna burne.
Ah who was he, that first did shuw
The heapes of treasure, which the earth did hide,
And Iewels which lay close below
By whish he costly dangers did prouide.Too much the former age was blest,
When fields their pleaséd owners failéd not,
Who, with no slothfull lust opprest
Broke their long fasts with acorns eas'ly got.
No wine with honey mixed(5) was,
Nor did they silk in purple colours steepe;
They slept upon the wholesome grass,
And their cool drink did fetch from rivers deep.
The pines did hide them with their shade,
No merchants through the dangerous billows went,
Nor with desire of gainful trade
Their traffic into foreign countries sent.
Then no shrill trumpets did amate
The minds of soldiers with their daunting sounds,
Nor weapons were through deadly hate
Dyed with the dreadful bloo of gaping wounds.
For how could any fury draw
The mind of man to stir up war in vain,
When nothing but fierce wounds he saw,
And for his blood no recompense should gaine?
O that the ancient manners would
In these our latter hapless times return!
Now the desire of having gold
Doth like the flaming fires of Ætna burn.
Ah, who was he that first did show
The heaps of treasure which the earth did hide,
And jewels which lay close below,
By which he costly dangers did prouide?
[Coningsby, Sir Harry.] The Consolation of Philosophy. London, 1664. Wing STC B3428. Reel 55.
Happy that Age
who their own Fields did till;
Could Hunger's rage
with Acorns eas'ly fill;
Did not their Wine
with hony mixt confound,
Nor made them fine
with Tyrian dye unsound;
Who on the grass
did take their quiet rest,
Drink Water was
and under Pines did feast:
When dang'rous Trade,
which with it Wealth did bring,
Was not yet made
of Vice the fatal spring.
No Trumpets did
the Souldiers minds elate,
No weapons hid
in wounds through mortal hate.
What could invite
men then to kill and slay?
For none would fight
if it were not for pay.
O would again
those manners might return!
But love of gain
like Ætna's fire does burn.
Ah! who was he
that first did treasures find?
Man lived free
they in their cells confin'd.
[Elys, Edmund.] Summum bonum: Or an Explication of the
Divine Goodness, in the Words of the Most Renowned Boetius,
Translated by a Lover of Truth, and Virtue. Oxford, 1674. Wing
STC B3434. Reel 55.
O the' too happy fathers of old,
Whose wealth was the plough, and the fold!
Base Luxury ne're could destroy 'um,
Whose fare could ne're surfeit, nor cloy 'um.
An Akorn, or Chesnut at best
With them was an excellent feast.
Sack, and Sugar their throats ne'ver knew,
Nor their backs the Tyrian hue.
On th' grass they found Innocent dreams,
And Nectar in sweet sliding streams.
Then th' Pine served only for shade,
And not for the Mariners trade.
The Chinoise had no traffick with Spain
For their trifles as strange, and as vain.
Then men might sleep whole in their skins
Not affrighted with warlike Dins:
And America thought not upon
The greedy, and merciless Don:
For who could have thought 'em worth killing,
When they had not one poore shilling
To pay for the wounds should be made?
Then Warr was a pityful trade.
Would God that our Saints, and Wise men,
Would be but so Holy as Then!
But a fire more Cruel than Hell,
Love of Wealth, is mixt with our Zele;
Oh, what was their bloudy Zele, who
Sought out the long hidden Peru,
And brought home that dangerous Ore
By the Murther of so many score,
To make Pay for the Murthring of more?
Preston, Richard (Viscount Preston), trans. Anicius Manlius Severinus Boetius, Of the Consolation of Philosophy. London, 1695. Wing STC B3433. Reel 126.
IToo happy they, and too much bless'd,
Who did in former Ages live
Content with what the faithful Earth did give,
Who Nature's kindly Products thought the best!
They, yet not lost in Luxury,
Did with the Acorn Hunger satisfy,
And the most carving Stomach fill.
They knew not Hypocras nor Hydromel,
Nor could the differing Elements join
Of Honey and of racy Wine;
Nor did the Serian Fleece in Tyrian Colours shine.II
Our Fathers on their grassy Beds did sleep,
Had smiling Visions and inspiring Dreams,
The passing Rivulets and lucid Streams
Gave wholsom draughts. Vnder the spreading Shade
Of the tall Pine, through which no Ray could peep,
The gentle Mortal careless lay,
Shunning the Heats of the Meridian Ray.III
No Man did plow the Deep, or stem the Floods
With swelling Canvass and with busy Oar:
Nor did the Merchant then expose his Goods
To sale upon an unknown Shore.
The threatning Notes of the hoarse Trumpet then
Did not the Man of War awake;
Ambition did no hateful Quarrels make,
Nor shining blades wich Purple stain:
For headlong Fury never could
Move Men to go to War,
When what was got was but a Wound or Scar,
And there was no Reward for shedding Blood.IV
O that those Days would come again
Which long ago went floating by,
And swallowed in the mighty Gulf of Time,
Make now an useless part of vast Eternity!
The Love of Wealth doth all engage,
And more than Ætna's Flames doth rage,
And nothing can the burning Thirst asswage.
Ill fare the Man who broke the deep
And secret Closets of the Earth,
And gave to Gold and Diamonds a Birth,
Which in their Causes did desire to sleep;
And whence a thousand Troubles Men do daily reap!
Causton, William, trans. Consolation of Philosophy, in Five Books. London, 1730.
Causton dedicates his translation to James Earl of Berkeley, which recalls John Trevisa's translations for Lord Berkeley three and a half centuries earlier. However, Causton refers only to two translations of Boethius, one by a man of "so great quality as the late lord Viscount Preston" and the other "by a man of so great abilities as Chaucer," of whose work he adds this
I hope I may be allow'd to say, it is no less to be wonder'd at than lamented, that Chaucer, who was so great a master of numbers, should not translate into English verse the poetic part, which is so divinely charming in the original; which if he had done, I had doubtless been effectually discourag'd from modernizing that which I could not have improv'd, and altering that which I must have despair'd of mending.
Causton's translation was reprinted by Daniel Bellamy, Jr., in
Ethic Amusements by Mr. Bellamy. London, 1768. 1-150.
Bellamy's variants are Serian] Syrian,
trumpet's] trumpets, and soveraignties] sovereignties.
Happy those days! when early time began,
And nature's hand supply'd the wants of man;
With plenteous cheer renew'd his homely board,
The faithful slave of a contented lord;
E'er from luxurious meals diseases sprung,
But man continu'd many ages young;
When hunger drove him to the oaken shade,
And gather'd acorns were his daily bread,
Long liv'd, and vig'rous as the tree on which he fed.
He bow'd not yet to giddy Bacchus' shrine,
Nor sought for opiates in bowls of wine;
The Serian fleece her native whiteness wore,
Nor lustre borrow'd from the Tyrian shore;
From beds of moss did downy slumbers rise,
Fountains and chrystal streams for drink suffice,
And shady pines afforded shelter from the skies:
Untry'd the dangers of th' inconstant main,
Nor distant regions were explor'd for gain:
Unheard as yet the martial trumpet's sounds,
Nor purple streams had flow'd from gaping wounds;
For why should war lay waste the peaceful plain?
Or what should man provoke to prey on man?
When kingdoms there were none, nor soveraignties,
But wounds and scars were all the guilty prize.
Oh! grant, good heav'n, to our degenerate race,
The peace and innocence of former days;
But vain the Muse's hopes, alas! in vain she prays:
For lust of wealth inflames th' insatiate age,
With greater far than ev'n Vesuvian rage:
Yet may the Muse with pious tears bemoan
The hour, in which these seeds of strife were sown;
May curse the wretch, who first explor'd the way
To earth's dark caverns, where her treasures lay,
Conscious of guilt, conceal'd, and wisely hid from day.
Tester. S.J., trans. The Consolation of Philosophy. By Boethius. In Boethius: The Theological Tractates...The Consolation of Philosophy. Ed. H.F. Stewart, E.K. Rand, and S.J. Tester. Loeb Classical Library 74. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1918, 1973.
Felix nimium prior aetas
Contenta fidelibus arvis
Nec inerti perdita luxu,
Facili quae sera solebat
Ieiunia solvere glande.
Non Bacchica munera norant
Liquido confundere melle
Nec lucida vellera Serum
Tyrio miscere veneno.
Somnos dabat herba salubres,
Potum quoque lubricus amnis,
Umbras altissima pinus.
Nondum maris alta secabat
Nec mercibus undique lectis
Nova litora viderat hospes,
Tunc classica saeva tacebant,
Odiis neque fusus acerbis
Cruor horrida tinxerat arva.
Quid enim furor hosticus ulla
Vellet prior arma movere,
Cum vulnera saeva viderent
Nec praemia sanguinis ulla?
Utinam modo nostra redirent
In mores tempora priscos!
Sed saevior ignibus Aetnae
Fervens amor ardet habendi.
Heu primus quis fuit ille
Auri qui pondera tecti
Gemmasque latere volentes
Pretiosa pericula fodit?How happy was that earlier age
When men content depended on the trusty land,
And not yet sunk in idle luxury
Sated their hunger only at their need
With acorns gathered with ease.
They had not learned to mix
Wine with clear honey;
Nor to dye shining silken stuffs
With Tyrian purple.
The greensward gave them healthy sleep,
The gliding river water for their thirst,
And the tall pine a shadow from the sun.
Nor yet did they cut deep waters with their ships,
Nor seeking trade abroad
Stand strangers on an unknown shore.
There was no sound of savage bugle-calls,
Nor had men's blood been shed in bitter hate
Staining the scrubby fields.
For why should any man in furious enmity
Want to strike first
When he could see what cruel wounds would come
With no reward for blood?
Would that our present times
Would now return to those good ancient ways!
But fiercer now than Etna's fires
Burns the hot lust for gain.
Ah who was he
Who first dug out those perilous precious things--
Nuggets of gold, which had lain concealed,
And gems, far better hid?
1. Probably a compositor's error.
2. No doubt another, for "wodenes."
3. The editor notes "The Queen has read classis, navy, for classicum, trumpet" (34n1).
4. Also, "Here she has read arma for arua, field. Chaucer has it also incorrectly armurers" (34n2). Cf. the other translations and consider this: if the Latin they read had arma, then the translation is hardly "incorrect."
5. Curiously, this is not "mixéd." Did the editors give up marking syllables or was this still one? Poke around and see if you can find out.
