Hit ne wæs not one of ure wordes in
þe begynning, for ðe Normen yave us
þis word, French ðæt snuc upon easterne schore,
fram þe Latin tungue, swa great beforan.
ðe Romanan nam fram þe Greca woruld.
It ys but language historie,
Foule or faire, the mysterie;
And every word that ys yspoken
hath a tale that ys not broken,
luv or bore be ye ysmitten,
It was speche, yet only written.
Verily, it be likened unto a man that seeketh
lost treasure, buried deep
beneath,
and when he find it, he rejoiceth greatly
in spite of others’ careless indifference.
For it came to pass, that men sought knowledge
and became as little children when they found it,
giddy.
For all Experience hath shewn, that in the Course of word History, men are more disposed to speak without thought of what Language they use.
But transient Language long instituted is not dictated by prudence, but by convenience. Such has been the patient Sufferance of the linguist.
Just as the archaeologist digs through
various layers of earth, sometimes for
weeks, only to discover some old rusty
scrap of metal, or a broken clay jar –
useless?
Not to the serious historian
amid piles of dusty books. He excitedly
cleans it, preserves it, studies it, and
dates it. It goes to a museum
stuffy and old,
full of antiquity,
it gets added to
the collection
for all the world to enjoy and benefit from.
