“But no one imparts to the age of the ‘Wisest King’ greater brilliancy than the man just named, whom the epithet of ‘The Venerable’ adorns, whose knowledge was profound and almost universal. Born in the neighbourhood of Wearmouth, he enjoyed in that abbey the instructions of Benedict, its first abbot, of whom we have already had occasion to make honourable mention, as well as those of his successor, Ceolfrith, equally distinguished for his zeal in the promotion of learning. In the neighbouring cloister of Jarrow, Beda passed his life in exercises of piety and in varied study; and gave life and form to almost all the knowledge which the age could offer him. If, on a consideration of his works, it must appear manifest that that age possessed more means of knowledge, both in manuscripts and learned ecclesiastics, than we are wont to ascribe to it; and even if we must recognise in Beda the high culture of the Roman church, rather than Anglo-Saxon nationality, yet the acknowledgment which his merits found in Rome during his life, and shortly after his death, whereever learning could penetrate, proves that in him we justly venerate a wonder of the time. His numerous theological writings, his illustrations of the books of the Old and New Testaments, have throughout many ages, until the total revolution in that branch of learning, found readers and transcribers in every cloister of Europe. His knowledge of Greek, of medicine, of astronomy, of prosody, he made subservient to the instruction of his contemporaries; his work “De sex hujus seculi ætatibus,” though less used than it deserves to be, is the basis of most of the universal chronicles of the middle age. But his greatest merit, which will preserve his name through all future generations, consists in his historic works, as far as they concern his own native land. If a second man like himself had arisen in his days, who with the same clear, circumspect glance, the same honest and pious purpose, had recorded the secular transactions of his forefathers, as Beda has transmitted to us those chiefly of the church, then would the history of England have been to posterity almost like revelation for Germanic antiquity.”
It seems like a miracle to witness within a century of their country’s conversion, two native names so remarkable as these. Under the influence thus exerted, which in the one man was purely good, and in the other had more good in it than evil, an active spirit of religion was necessarily introduced, and the national character underwent a mighty change. The condition of public feeling at this period is strongly illustrated in the concluding chapter of Bede’s History.
“Such being the peaceable and calm disposition of the times, many of the Northumbrians, as well of the nobility as private persons, laying aside their weapons, rather incline to dedicate both themselves and their children to the tonsure and monastic vows, than to study martial discipline. What will be the end hereof, the next age will show. This is, for the present, the state of all Britain; in the year, since the coming of the English into Britain about 285, but in the 731st year of the incarnation of our Lord, in whose reign may the earth ever rejoice; may Britain exult in the profession of his faith; and may many islands be glad, and sing praises in honour of his holiness!”
What will be the end hereof the next age will show! These are ominous words, of which we are soon to find the fulfilment in many grievous revolutions and disasters. And yet amid all these it is impossible to depreciate the value and operation of the peaceful interval that preceded them, or to deny that, though other things might fall or fade away for a time, the great work of the diffusion of Christian civilisation was destined ever to make more rapid progress, even by the help of those very events which seemed to threaten its extinction.
SCOTTISH MELODIES BY DELTA.
ERIC’S DIRGE.
Shon’st thou but to pass away,
Chieftain, in thy bright noon-day?
(All who knew thee, love thee!)
Who to Eric would not yield?
Red hand in the battle field,
Kinsman’s idol, Beauty’s shield,
Flowers we strew above thee!
Eagle-like, in Glory’s sky,
Soar’d thy dauntless spirit high;
(All who knew thee, love thee!)
Scion of a matchless race,
Strong in form, and fair of face,
First in field, and first in chase,
Flowers we strew above thee!
Three to one Argyle came on,
Yet thy glance defiance shone;
(All who knew thee, love thee!)
Fear thine Islesmen never knew;
We were firm, tho’ we were few;
And in front thy banner flew:—
Flowers we strew above thee!
What mere men could do was done;
Two at least we slew for one;
(All who knew thee, love, thee!)
But, ah fatal was our gain!
For, amid the foremost slain,
Lay’st thou, whom we mourn in vain:
Flowers we strew above thee!