Where are now the bones of stanch Fabricius?

Brutus, Cato--where are they?

Lingering fame, with a few graven letters, Doth their empty name display.

But to know the great dead is not given From a gilded name alone; Nay, ye all alike must lie forgotten, 'Tis not _you_ that fame makes known.

Fondly do ye deem life's little hour Lengthened by fame's mortal breath; There but waits you--when this, too, is taken-- At the last a second death.

VIII.

'But that thou mayst not think that I wage implacable warfare against Fortune, I own there is a time when the deceitful G.o.ddess serves men well--I mean when she reveals herself, uncovers her face, and confesses her true character. Perhaps thou dost not yet grasp my meaning. Strange is the thing I am trying to express, and for this cause I can scarce find words to make clear my thought. For truly I believe that Ill Fortune is of more use to men than Good Fortune. For Good Fortune, when she wears the guise of happiness, and most seems to caress, is always lying; Ill Fortune is always truthful, since, in changing, she shows her inconstancy. The one deceives, the other teaches; the one enchains the minds of those who enjoy her favour by the semblance of delusive good, the other delivers them by the knowledge of the frail nature of happiness. Accordingly, thou mayst see the one fickle, shifting as the breeze, and ever self-deceived; the other sober-minded, alert, and wary, by reason of the very discipline of adversity. Finally, Good Fortune, by her allurements, draws men far from the true good; Ill Fortune ofttimes draws men back to true good with grappling-irons. Again, should it be esteemed a trifling boon, thinkest thou, that this cruel, this odious Fortune hath discovered to thee the hearts of thy faithful friends--that other hid from thee alike the faces of the true friends and of the false, but in departing she hath taken away _her_ friends, and left thee _thine_? What price wouldst thou not have given for this service in the fulness of thy prosperity when thou seemedst to thyself fortunate?

Cease, then, to seek the wealth thou hast lost, since in true friends thou hast found the most precious of all riches.'

SONG VIII.

LOVE IS LORD OF ALL.

Why are Nature's changes bound To a fixed and ordered round?

What to leagued peace hath bent Every warring element?

Wherefore doth the rosy morn Rise on Phoebus' car upborne?

Why should Phoebe rule the night, Led by Hesper's guiding light?

What the power that doth restrain In his place the restless main, That within fixed bounds he keeps, Nor o'er earth in deluge sweeps?

Love it is that holds the chains, Love o'er sea and earth that reigns; Love--whom else but sovereign Love?-- Love, high lord in heaven above!

Yet should he his care remit, All that now so close is knit In sweet love and holy peace, Would no more from conflict cease, But with strife's rude shock and jar All the world's fair fabric mar.

Tribes and nations Love unites By just treaty's sacred rites; Wedlock's bonds he sanctifies By affection's softest ties.

Love appointeth, as is due, Faithful laws to comrades true-- Love, all-sovereign Love!--oh, then, Ye are blest, ye sons of men, If the love that rules the sky In your hearts is throned on high!

BOOK III.

TRUE HAPPINESS AND FALSE.

SUMMARY

CH. I. Boethius beseeches Philosophy to continue. She promises to lead him to true happiness.--CH. II. Happiness is the one end which all created beings seek. They aim variously at (_a_) wealth, or (_b_) rank, or (_c_) sovereignty, or (_d_) glory, or (_e_) pleasure, because they think thereby to attain either (_a_) contentment, (_b_) reverence, (_c_) power, (_d_) renown, or (_e_) gladness of heart, in one or other of which they severally imagine happiness to consist.--CH. III. Philosophy proceeds to consider whether happiness can really be secured in any of these ways, (_a_) So far from bringing contentment, riches only add to men's wants.--CH. IV. (_b_) High position cannot of itself win respect.

t.i.tles command no reverence in distant and barbarous lands. They even fall into contempt through lapse of time.--CH. V. (_c_) Sovereignty cannot even bestow safety. History tells of the downfall of kings and their ministers. Tyrants go in fear of their lives. --CH. VI. (_d_) Fame conferred on the unworthy is but disgrace. The splendour of n.o.ble birth is not a man's own, but his ancestors'.--CH. VII. (_e_) Pleasure begins in the restlessness of desire, and ends in repentance. Even the pure pleasures of home may turn to gall and bitterness.--CH. VIII. All fail, then, to give what they promise. There is, moreover, some accompanying evil involved in each of these aims. Beauty and bodily strength are likewise of little worth. In strength man is surpa.s.sed by the brutes; beauty is but outward show.--CH. IX. The source of men's error in following these phantoms of good is that _they break up and separate that which is in its nature one and indivisible_.

Contentment, power, reverence, renown, and joy are essentially bound up one with the other, and, if they are to be attained at all, must be attained _together_. True happiness, if it can be found, will include them all. But it cannot be found among the perishable things. .h.i.therto considered.--CH. X. Such a happiness necessarily exists. Its seat is in G.o.d. Nay, G.o.d is very happiness, and in a manner, therefore, the happy man partakes also of the Divine nature. All other ends are relative to this good, since they are all pursued only for the sake of good; it is _good_ which is the sole ultimate end. And since the sole end is also happiness, it is plain that this good and happiness are in essence the same.--CH.

XI. Unity is another aspect of goodness. Now, all things subsist so long only as they preserve the unity of their being; when they lose this unity, they perish. But the bent of nature forces all things (plants and inanimate things, as well as animals) to strive to continue in life. Therefore, all things desire unity, for unity is essential to life. But unity and goodness were shown to be the same. Therefore, good is proved to be the end towards which the whole universe tends.[E]--CH. XII. Boethius acknowledges that he is but recollecting truths he once knew. Philosophy goes on to show that it is goodness also by which the whole world is governed.[F]

Boethius professes compunction for his former folly. But the paradox of evil is introduced, and he is once more perplexed.

FOOTNOTES:

[E] This solves the second of the points left in doubt at the end of bk.

i., ch. vi.

[F] This solves the third. No distinct account is given of the first, but an answer may be gathered from the general argument of bks. ii., iii., and iv.

BOOK III.

I.

She ceased, but I stood fixed by the sweetness of the song in wonderment and eager expectation, my ears still strained to listen. And then after a little I said: 'Thou sovereign solace of the stricken soul, what refreshment hast thou brought me, no less by the sweetness of thy singing than by the weightiness of thy discourse! Verily, I think not that I shall hereafter be unequal to the blows of Fortune. Wherefore, I no longer dread the remedies which thou saidst were something too severe for my strength; nay, rather, I am eager to hear of them and call for them with all vehemence.'

Then said she: 'I marked thee fastening upon my words silently and intently, and I expected, or--to speak more truly--I myself brought about in thee, this state of mind. What now remains is of such sort that to the taste indeed it is biting, but when received within it turns to sweetness. But whereas thou dost profess thyself desirous of hearing, with what ardour wouldst thou not burn didst thou but perceive whither it is my task to lead thee!'

'Whither?' said I.

'To true felicity,' said she, 'which even now thy spirit sees in dreams, but cannot behold in very truth, while thine eyes are engrossed with semblances.'

Then said I: 'I beseech thee, do thou show to me her true shape without a moment's loss.'

'Gladly will I, for thy sake,' said she. 'But first I will try to sketch in words, and describe a cause which is more familiar to thee, that, when thou hast viewed this carefully, thou mayst turn thy eyes the other way, and recognise the beauty of true happiness.'

SONG I.

THE THORNS OF ERROR.

Who fain would sow the fallow field, And see the growing corn, Must first remove the useless weeds, The bramble and the thorn.

After ill savour, honey's taste Is to the mouth more sweet; After the storm, the twinkling stars The eyes more cheerly greet.

When night hath past, the bright dawn comes In car of rosy hue; So drive the false bliss from thy mind, And thou shall see the true.

II.

For a little s.p.a.ce she remained in a fixed gaze, withdrawn, as it were, into the august chamber of her mind; then she thus began: