INTRODUCTION.
WHEN master hands like those of Gibbon and Hallam have sketched the life of Boethius, it is well that no meaner man should attempt to mar their pictures. They drew, perhaps, the most touching scene in Middle-age literary history, —the just man in prison, awaiting death, consoled by the Philosophy that had been his light in life, and handing down to posterity for their comfort and strength the presence of her whose silver rays had been his guide as well under the stars of Fortune as the mirk of Fate. With Milton in his dark days, Boece in prison could say,—
'I argue notAgainst Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jotOf heart or hope; but still bear up and steerRight onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?The conscience, friend, to have lost them overpliedIn liberty's defence, my noble task,Of which all Europe rings from side to side.'For, indeed, the echoes of Boethius, Boethius, rang out loud from every corner of European Literature. An Alfred awoke them in England, a Chaucer, a Caxton would not let them die; an Elizabeth revived them among the glorious music of her reign. [Other translations are by John Walton of Osney, in verse, in 1410 (Reg. MS. 18, A 13), first printed at Tavistock in 1525, and to be edited some time or other for the E. E. T. S. An anonymous prose version in the Bodleian. George Coluile, alias Coldewel, 1556; J. T. 1609; H. Conningesbye, 1664; Lord Preston, 1695, 1712; W. Causton, 1730; Redpath, 1785; R. Duncan, 1789; anon. 1792 (Lowndes).] To us, though far off, they come with a sweet sound. 'The angelic' Thomas Aquinas commented on him, and many others followed the saint's steps. Dante read him, though, strange to say, he speaks of the