Meter 1

’T was long ago when the eastern Goths
Sent from Scythia their swarms of shieldmen,
With multitudes harried many a nation.
Two tribes triumphant tramped to the south.
The Goths in greatness grew year by year;
Akin to the clansmen kings were there twain,
Raedgod and Aleric ; they ruled in power.
O’er Jove’s mountain came many a Goth
Gorged with glory, greedy to wrestle
In fight with foemen. The banner flashing
Fluttered on the staff. Freely the heroes
All Italy over were eager to roam,
The wielders of bucklers, bearing onward
E’en from Jove’s mount on to ocean,
Where in sea-streams Sicily lieth,
That mighty island, most famous of lands.
Rudely the Roman rule was shattered ;

The shieldmen sacked the glorious city ;
Rome was ravaged ; Raedgod and Aleric
Carried the fortress. Away fled the Caesar,
Aye, and his princes, off to the Greeks.

The luckless left ones, losing the combat,
To the Gothic foemen gave up all,
Unwilling forfeited their fathers’ treasures,

Their holy allegiance ; hard was the loss !
The hearts of the heroes held with the Greeks,
If they durst follow the folk’s foemen.
Thus things stood ; the folk was stressed
Many a winter, till Weird appointed
That Theodoric the thanes and nobles
Should lord it over. This leader of them
Was claimed by Christ, the king himself
Brought to baptism ; a blessed day
For the sons of Rome. They sought right soon
Help from the high one ; he then vowed
To give the Romans all rights olden,
Safe to sojourn in their wealthy city,
While God him granted the Goths’ dominion
To own and possess. All this the prince broke,
Oath after oath ; Arian error
He loved better than the law of the Lord.
The good Pope John he judged in his anger,
Reft of his head ; a heinous deed !

Countless wrongs were likewise wrought
By the Gothic leader on each of the good.
In those days a leader in Rome was living,

A high-born chieftain, cherishing his lord,
While that the high-seat was held by the Greeks ;
A man most righteous. He was ’mid the Romans
A giver of treasure, glorious ever,
Wise toward this world, wishful of honour,
Learned in booklore ; Boethius the name was
That this hero had, that so highly was famed.
Time after time he turned in his mind
The evil and insult by alien princes
Grievously given. To the Greeks he was true,
Rememb’ring the honours and ancient rights
By his fathers aforetime fully enjoyed,
Their love and kindness. Then with cunning
He planned and brooded how he might bring
The Greeks to his country, that once more the Caesar
Might have full power o’er his people.
Then to their former lords letters of embassy
He sent in secret, summoning them by God,
By their former faith, forthwith to him
To speed Romewards ; Greek senators
Should rule the Romans, their rights render
Free to the folk. When he found this out,
Theodoric the Amuling, the thane he had seized, :
Charging the braves that did his bidding
To hold fast the hero ; fierce was his heart, :

The chieftain dreading. Deep in a dungeon
Bolted and barred he bade them cast him.

Then was the man’s mood mightily troubled,
The mind of Boethius. Long had he borne
High state worldly ; the harder it was

Bravely to bear this bitter fortune.
Sad was the hero ; he hoped for no mercy,
Locked in prison ; past all comfort
On the floor he fell with his face downwards,
Wofully spread, his sorrow speaking,
Hopeless utterly, ever weening
He should linger in fetters. He called on the Lord
With cheerless voice, and thus he chaunted.