Produced by S.R.Ellison, David Starner, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. YALE STUDIES IN ENGLISH ALBERT S. COOK, EDITOR VII ANDREAS: THE LEGEND OF ST. ANDREW TRANSLATED FROM THE OLD ENGLISH BY ROBERT KILBURN ROOT NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1899 ERRATA. p. IV. For _Angelsächsen_ read _Angelsachsen_. p. V. " Fritsche " Fritzsche. p. IX. " homilest " homilist. p. 18, 1. 550. " has " hast. p. 27, 1. 835. " 'Till " Till. P. 57. " Siever's " Sievers'. PREFACE It is always a somewhat hardy undertaking to attempt the translation of poetry, for such a translation will at the best be but a shadow of that which it would fain represent. Yet I trust that even an imperfect rendering of one of the best of the Old English poems will in some measure contribute towards a wider appreciation of our earliest literature, for the poem is accessible to the general reader only in the baldly literal and somewhat inaccurate translation of Kemble, published in 1843, and now out of print. I have chosen blank verse as the most suitable metre for the translation of a long and dignified narrative poem, as the metre which can most nearly reproduce the strength, the nobility, the variety and rapidity of the original. The ballad measure as used by Lumsden in his translation of _Beowulf_ is monotonous and trivial, while the measure used by Morris and others, and intended as an imitation of the Old English alliterative measure, is wholly impracticable. It is a hybrid product, neither Old English nor modern, producing both weariness and disgust; for, while copying the external features of its original, it loses wholly its æsthetic qualities. In my diction I have sought after simple and idiomatic English, studying the noble archaism of the King James Bible, rather than affecting the Wardour Street dialect of William Morris or Professor Earle, which is often utterly unintelligible to any but the special student of Middle English. My translation is faithful, but not literal; I have not hesitated to make a passive construction active, or to translate a compound adjective by a phrase. To quote from King Alfred's preface to his translation of Boethius, I have "at times translated word by word, and at times sense by sense, in whatsoever way I might most clearly and intelligibly interpret it." The text followed is that of Grein-Wülker in the _Bibliothek der Angelsächsischen Poesie_ (Leipzig, 1894), and the lines of my translation are numbered according to that edition. I have not, however, felt obliged to follow his punctuation. Where it has seemed best to adopt other readings, I have mentioned the fact in my notes. I have compared my translation with those of Kemble and Grein (_Dichtungen der Angelsächsen_), and am occasionally indebted to them for a word or a phrase. It gives me great pleasure to acknowledge my indebtedness to Dr. Frank H. Chase, who has very carefully read my translation in manuscript; and to Professor Albert S. Cook, who has given me his help and advice at all stages of my work from its inception to its publication. To Mr. Charles G. Osgood, Jr., I am also indebted for valuable criticism. ROBERT KILBURN ROOT. YALE UNIVERSITY, April 7, 1899. INTRODUCTION [Sidenote: _The Manuscript_.] While traveling in Italy during the year 1832, Dr. Blume, a German scholar, discovered in the cathedral library at Vercelli an Old English manuscript containing both poetry and prose. The longest and the best of the poems is the _Andreas_, or _Legend of St. Andrew_. How did this manuscript find its way across the Alps into a country where its language was wholly unintelligible? Several theories have been advanced, the most plausible being that advocated by Cook.[1] According to this view it was carried thither by Cardinal Guala, who during the reign of Henry III was prior of St. Andrew's, Chester. On his return to Italy he built the monastery of St. Andrew in Vercelli, strongly English in its architecture. Since the manuscript contained a poem about St. Andrew, it would have been an appropriate gift to St. Andrew's Church in Vercelli. Wülker's theory that it was owned by an Anglo-Saxon hospice at Vercelli rests on very shadowy arguments, since he adduces no satisfactory proof that such a hospice ever existed. [Footnote 1: _Cardinal Guala and the Vercelli Book_, Univ. of Cal. Library Bulletin No. 10. Sacramento, 1888.] [Sidenote: _Authorship and Date_.] On the strength of certain marked similarities of style and diction to the signed poems of Cynewulf, the earlier editors of the _Andreas_ assigned the poem to him, and were followed by Dietrich, Grein, and Ten Brink. But Fritsche (_Anglia_ II), arguing from other equally marked dissimilarities, denies its Cynewulfian authorship, and is sustained in his position by Sievers, though vigorously opposed by Ramhorst. More recently Trautman (_Anglia_, Beiblatt VI. 17) reasserts the older view, declaring his belief that the _Fates of the Apostles_, in which Napier has discovered the runic signature of Cynewulf, is but the closing section of the _Andreas_. There is much to be said in favor of this last theory, which would establish Cynewulf as the author of the entire work; but the whole question is far from being settled. We can at least affirm that the author was a devout churchman and a dweller by the sea, thoroughly acquainted with the poems of Cynewulf. It is equally impossible to determine with any certainty the date of authorship, since the poem is wholly lacking in contemporary allusions. Nor can we base any argument upon its language, since, in all probability, its present form is but a West Saxon transcript of an older Northumbrian or Mercian version. If Cynewulf flourished in the eighth century, the date of the _Andreas_ is probably not much later. The Vercelli manuscript is assigned to the first half of the eleventh century. [Sidenote: _Sources_.] Fortunately we can speak with more assurance about the sources of the poem. It follows closely, though not slavishly, the _Acts of Andrew and Matthew_, contained in the _Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles_.[1] Like the great English poets of the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries, the poet of the _Andreas_ has borrowed his story from a foreign source, and like them he has added and altered until he has made it thoroughly his own and thoroughly English. We can learn from it the tastes and ideals of our Anglo-Saxon forefathers quite as well as from a poem wholly original in its composition. Most clearly do we discover their love of the sea. The action of the story brings in a voyage, which the Greek narrative dismisses with a few words, merely as a piece of necessary machinery. The Old English poem, on the contrary, expands the incident into many lines. A storm is introduced and described with great vigor; we see the circling gull and the darting horn-fish; we hear the creaking of the ropes and the roaring of the waves.[2] Every mention of the sea is dwelt upon with lingering affection, and described with vivid metaphor. It is now the "bosom of the flood," now the "whale-road" or the "fish's bath." Again it is the "welter of the waves," or its more angry mood is personified as the "Terror of the waters." In the first 500 lines alone there are no less than 43 different words and phrases denoting the sea. [Footnote 1: _Acta Apostolorum Apocrypha_, ed. Tischendorf. Leipzig, 1851, pp. 132-166. (For a translation of part of the _Acts of Andrew and Matthew_, see Cook's _First Book in Old English_, Appendix III.)] [Footnote 2: See 369-381.] Daybreak and sunset, too, are described with much beauty, and in one passage at least with strong imagination. We can have no doubt that the poet was a close watcher and keen lover of nature. We can imagine him walking on the cliffs beside his beloved ocean, watching for the sunrise, rejoicing in the glory of the sky, As heaven's candle shone across the floods.[1] [Footnote 1: See 243.] I have said, too, that he was a devout churchman. Many of the noble hymns and prayers with which the poem abounds are largely original, expanded from a mere line or two in the Greek. Many and beautiful are the epithets or kennings which he applies to God, taken in part from the Bible, and in part from the imagery of the not wholly extinct heathen mythology. Thoroughly English is his love of violent action, of war and bloodshed. Andrew is a "warrior brave in the battle"; the apostles are Thanes of the Lord, whose courage for the fight Failed never, e'en when helmets crashed in war. and their missions are rather military expeditions than peaceful pilgrimages. One concrete example will serve well to show in what spirit the author has dealt with his original. The disciples of Andrew are so terrified by the sea that the Lord (disguised as a shipmaster) suggests that they shall go ashore and await the return of their master. In the Greek the disciples answer: "If we leave thee, then shall we be strangers to those good things which the Lord hath promised unto us. Therefore will we abide with thee, wherever thou go."[1] In the Old English :-- O whither shall we turn us, lordless men, Mourning in heart, forsaken quite by God, Wounded with sin, if we abandon thee? We shall be odious in every land, Hated of every folk, when sons of men, Courageous warriors, in council sit, And question which of them did best stand by His lord in battle, when the hand and shield, Worn out by broadswords on the battle-plain, Suffered sore danger in the sport of war. (405-414.) [Footnote 1: Bede, _Hist. Eccl._ IV. 2.] There is in the Greek no trace of the Teutonic idea of loyalty to a lord, which is the ruling motive of the Old English lines. But did the poet read the legend in the Greek? The study of that language had, it is true, been introduced into England in the seventh century by Archbishop Theodore[1], but we can hardly assume that this study was very general. Moreover, there are several important variations between the poem and the _Acts of Andrew and Matthew_, facts wanting in the Greek, which the poet could not possibly have invented. For example, the poem states that Andrew was in Achaia when he received the mission to Mermedonia. In the Greek we find no mention of Achaia, nor is the name "Mermedonia" given at all. After the conversion of the Mermedonians, the poet says that Andrew appointed a bishop over them, whose name was Platan. Again the Greek is silent. There is, however, an Old English homily[1] of unknown authorship and uncertain date, which contains these three facts, (though the name of the bishop is not given). Still another remarkable coincidence has been pointed out by Zupitza.[2] In line 1189 of the _Andreas_, Satan is addressed as _d[=e]ofles str[=æ]l_ ("shaft of the devil"), and in the homily also the same word (_str[=æ]l_) is found. But in the corresponding passage of the Greek we find [Greek: O Belia echthrotate] ("O most hateful Belial"). From this correspondence between the poem and the homily, Zupitza argues the existence of a Latin translation of the Greek, from which both the _Andreas_ and the homily were made, assuming that the ignorant Latinist confused [Greek: Belia] (Belial) with [Greek: Belos] ("arrow," "shaft,"), translating it by _telum_ or _sagitta_. It is hardly probable that both the poet and the homilest should have made the same mistake. [Footnote 1: Bright, _Anglo-Saxon Reader_, pp. 113-128.] [Footnote 2: _Zeitschrift für Deutsches Altertum_, XXX. 175.] The homily could not have been drawn from the poem, nor the poem from the homily, for in each we find facts and phrases of the Greek not contained in the other. For example, both in the Greek and in the homily, the flood which sweeps away the Mermedonians proceeds from the mouth of an alabaster image standing upon a pillar, while in the poem it springs forth from the base of the pillar itself. On the other hand, most of the dialogue between Andrew and the Lord on shipboard, as well as other important incidents, are wanting in the homily. Summing up, then, we have the homily and the poem agreeing in some important points in which both differ from the Greek, but so dissimilar in other points that neither could have been the source of the other. In the light of these similarities and variations, and of others which space prevents me from mentioning, we must suppose the homily to have been taken from an abridgment of the Latin version, of which the poet saw a somewhat corrupt copy. It is also not improbable that this Latin version may have been made from a Greek manuscript varying in some details from the legend as it appears in Tischendorf's edition. This view is sustained by a Syrian translation, which in some respects agrees with our hypothetical Latin version. But this Latin version has never been discovered, though some fragments of the legend are found in the Latin of Pseudo-Abdias and the _Legenda Aurea_,[1] which curiously enough supply several of the facts missing in the Greek, namely, that Andrew was teaching in Achaia, and that the land of the Anthropophagi was called Mermedonia. [Footnote 1: Grimm, _Andreas und Elene_, XIII-XVI.] So much for the sources of the poem as a whole. The poet is also deeply indebted to the _Beowulf_ and to the poems of Cynewulf (unless he be Cynewulf himself) for lines and phrases throughout his work. One example of this borrowing will suffice. In line 999, when Andrew reaches the prison, we read (translating literally): "The door quickly opened at the touch of the holy saint's hand." In the Greek: "And he made the sign of the cross upon the door, and it opened of its own accord." Why has the poet omitted the sign of the cross? We are unable to answer until we read in the _Beowulf_ (721) that at the coming of the monster Grendel to Heorot "the door quickly opened ... soon as he touched it with his hands." [Sidenote: _The Poem as a Work of Art_.] How shall we rank the _Legend of St. Andrew_ among the other poems of the Anglo-Saxons? and what are its chief merits as a work of art? The Old English epics may be divided into two general classes: the heroic epic, of which the _Beowulf_ is the chief example; and the larger group of religious epics, including the poems of Cynewulf, of Pseudo-Cædmon, the _Judith_, and the _Andreas_. In spite of occasional Christian interpolations the _Beowulf_ is essentially pagan, the expression of English sentiments and ideals before Augustine led his little band of chanting monks through the streets of Canterbury. In the _Andreas_ we see better, perhaps, than in any of the religious epics, these same sentiments and ideals softened and ennobled by the sweet spirit of the Christian religion. We see the conversion of England in the very process of its accomplishment. We see the beauties of Paganism and those of Christianity blending with each other, much as the Medieval and the Renaissance are blended in Spenser. In the one aspect Andrew is the valiant hero, like Beowulf, crossing the sea to accomplish a mighty deed of deliverance; in the other he is the saintly confessor, the patient sufferer, whose whole trust is in the Lord. If we compare the poem with the other epics of its class, its most formidable competitors are the anonymous _Judith_ and Cynewulf's _Christ_. But _Judith_, though unquestionably more brilliant, is but a fragment of 350 lines, and the _Christ_, in spite of its many beautiful passages, is entirely lacking in movement. The _Andreas_ is complete, and, if we except the long dialogue of Andrew and the Lord at sea, moves steadily towards the end with considerable variety of action. If the characterization is crude, the descriptions are vivid, the speeches are often vigorous, and the treatment of nature is throughout charming. It seems to me eminently suited by its subject and manner to stand as an example of the Old English religious epic, an example of a form of literature with which every serious student of our English poetry should be familiar. For English literature does not begin with Chaucer. He who would understand it well must know it also in its purer English form before the coming of the Normans. [Sidenote: _The Argument_.] It only remains to give a brief synopsis of the poem. It has fallen to the lot of Matthew to preach the Gospel to the cannibal Mermedonians; they seize him and his company, binding him and casting him into prison, where he is to remain until his turn comes to be eaten (1-58). He prays to God for help, and the Lord sends Andrew to deliver him (59-234). Andrew and his disciples come to the seashore and find a bark with three seamen, who are in reality the Lord and His two angels. On learning that Andrew is a follower of Jesus, the shipmaster agrees to carry him to Mermedonia (234-359). A storm arises, at which the disciples of Andrew are greatly terrified; he reminds them how Christ stilled the tempest, and they fall asleep (360-464). A dialogue ensues, in which Andrew relates to the shipmaster many of Christ's miracles (465-817). He falls asleep, and is carried by the angels to Mermedonia. On awaking, he beholds the city, and his disciples sleeping beside him. They relate to him a vision which they had seen. The Lord appears and bids him enter the city, covering him with a cloud (818-989). He reaches the prison, the doors of which fly open at his touch, and rescues Matthew, whom he sends away with all his company (990-1057). The Mermedonians, confronted with famine, choose one of their number by lot to serve as food for the rest. He offers his son as a substitute, but, as the heathen are about to slay their victim, Andrew interposes and causes their weapons to melt away like wax (1058-1154). Instigated by the Devil, they seize Andrew, and for three days subject him to the most cruel torments (1155-1462). On the fourth the Lord comes to his prison and heals him of his wounds. Beside the prison wall Andrew sees a marble pillar, which, at his command, sends forth a great flood, destroying many of the people (1462-1575). Andrew takes pity upon them and causes the flood to cease. The mountain is cleft and swallows up the waters, together with fourteen of the worst of the heathen. The others are restored to life and baptized. After building a church and appointing a bishop, Andrew returns to Achaia, followed by the prayers of his new converts (1575-1722). THE LEGEND OF ST. ANDREW Lo! we have learned of Twelve in days gone by, Who dwelt beneath the stars, in glory rich, Thanes of the Lord, whose courage for the fight Failed never, e'en when helmets crashed in war, From that time when they portioned each his place, As God himself declared to them by lot, High King of heaven above. Renownèd men Were they through all the earth, and leaders bold, Brave in the battle, warriors of might, When shield and hand the helmet did protect 10 Upon the field of fate. Of that brave band Was Matthew one, who first among the Jews Began to write the Gospel down in words With wondrous power. To him did Holy God Assign his lot upon that distant isle Where never yet could any outland man Enjoy a happy life or find a home. Him did the murderous hands of bloody men Upon the field of battle oft oppress Right grievously. That country all about, The folkstead of the men, was compassèd With slaughter and with foemen's treachery, 20 That home of heroes. Dwellers in that land Had neither bread nor water to enjoy, But on the flesh and blood of stranger men, Come from afar, that people made their feast. This was their custom: every foreigner Who visited that island from without They seized as food--these famine-stricken men. This was the cruel practice of that folk, Mighty in wickedness, most savage foes: 30 With javelin points they poured upon the ground The jewel of the head, the eyes' clear sight; And after brewed for them a bitter draught-- These wizards by their magic--drink accursed, Which led astray the wits of hapless men, The heart within their breasts, until they grieved No longer for the happiness of men; Weary for food they fed on hay and grass. When to this far-famed city Matthew came, 40 There rose great outcry through the sinful tribe, That cursed throng of Mermedonians. Soon as those servants of the Devil learned The noble saint was come unto their land, They marched against him, armed with javelins; Under their linden-shields they went in haste, Grim bearers of the lance, to meet the foe. They bound his hands; with foeman's cunning skill They made them fast--those warriors doomed to hell-- 50 With swords they pierced the jewel of his head. Yet in his heart he honored Heaven's King, Though of the drink envenomed he had drunk, Of virtue terrible; steadfast and glad, With courage unabashed, he worshiped still The Prince of glory, King of heaven above; And from the prison rose his holy voice. Within his noble breast the praise of Christ Stood fast imprinted; weeping tears of woe, With sorrowful voice of mourning he addressed 60 His Lord victorious, speaking thus in words:-- "Behold how these fierce strangers knit for me A chain of mischief, an ensnaring net. Ever have I been zealous in my heart To do Thy will in all things; now in grief The life of the dumb cattle I must lead. Thou, Lord, alone, Creator of mankind, Dost know the hidden thoughts of every heart. O Prince of glory, if it be thy will 70 That with the sword's keen edge perfidious men Put me at rest, I am prepared straightway To suffer whatsoever Thou, my Lord, Who givest bliss to that high angel-band, Shalt send me as my portion in this world, A homeless wanderer, O Lord of hosts. In mercy grant to me, Almighty God, Light in this life, lest, blinded in this town By hostile swords, I needs must longer bear Reviling words, the grievous calumny Of slaughter-greedy men, of hated foes. 80 On Thee alone, Protector of the world, I fix my mind, my heart's unfailing love; So, Father of the angels, Lord of hosts, Bright Giver of all bliss, to Thee I pray, That Thou appoint me not among my foes, Artificers of wrong forever damned, The death most grievous on this earth of Thine." After these words there came to his dark cell A sacred sign all-glorious from heaven, Like to the shining sun; then was it shown 90 That holy God was working aid for him. The voice of Heaven's Majesty was heard, The music of the glorious Lord's sweet words, Wondrous beneath the skies. To His true thane Brave in the fight, in dungeon harsh confined, He promised help and comfort with clear voice:-- "Matthew, My peace on earth I give to thee; Let not thy heart be troubled, neither mourn Too much in mind; I will abide with thee, And I will loose thee from these bonds that bind 100 Thy limbs, and loose all that great multitude That dwells with thee in strait captivity. To thee I open by My holy power The meadow radiant of Paradise, Brightest of splendors, dwelling-place most fair, That home most blessèd, where thou mayst enjoy Glory and bliss to everlasting life. Suffer this people's cruelty; not long Can faithless men afflict thee sinfully With chains of torment by their crafty wiles. Straight will I send unto this heathen town 110 Andrew to be thy comfort and defense; He will release thee from thine enemies. Thou hast not long to wait; in very truth But seven and twenty days fulfil the time, When, sorrow-laden, thou shalt go from hence, Under God's care, with victory adorned." The Holy One, Defense of all mankind, The angels' Lord, departed to the land High in the heavens--He is the King by right, 120 Steadfast He rules supreme in all the world. Exalted high was Matthew at the voice New-heard. The veil of darkness slipped away, Vanished in haste; and straightway came the light, The murmuring sound of early reddening dawn. The host assembled; heathen warriors Thronged in great crowds; their battle-armor sang; Their spears they brandished, angry in their hearts, Under the roof of shields; they fain would see Whether those hapless men were yet alive, Who fast in chains within their prison-walls 130 Had dwelt a while in comfortless abode, And which one they might first for their repast Rob of his life after the time ordained. They had set down, those slaughter-greedy foes, In runic characters and numerals The death-day of those men, when they should serve As food unto that famine-stricken tribe. Then clamored loudly that cold-hearted brood; Throng pressed on throng; their cruel counsellors Recked not at all of mercy or of right. Oft did their souls, led by the devil's lore, 140 Under the dusky shadows penetrate, When in the might of beings ever-cursed They put their trust. They found that holy man, Prudent of mind, within his prison dark, Awaiting bravely what the radiant King, Creator of the angels, should vouchsafe. Then was accomplished, all except three nights, The appointed time, the season foreordained, Which those fierce wolves of war had written down, At end of which they planned to break his bones, 150 And, parting straight his body and his soul, To portion out as food to old and young The body of the slain, a welcome feast; They cared not for the soul, those greedy men, How after death the spirit's pilgrimage Might be decreed. So every thirty nights They held their feast; most fierce was their desire To tear with bloody jaws the flesh of men 160 To be their food. Then He, who with strong might Stablished this world, was mindful how that saint Abode in misery 'mongst stranger men, Fast bound in chains--that saint who for His sake Had suffered from the Hebrews, had withstood The magic incantations of the Jews. Where in Achaia holy Andrew dwelt, Guiding his people in the way of life, 170 A voice was heard from out the heavens above. To him, that steadfast saint, the Lord of hosts, Glory of kings, Creator of mankind, Unlocked the treasure of His heart, and thus In words He spake:--"Thou shalt go forth and bear My peace, and journeying shalt fare where men, Devourers of their kind, possess the land, And hold their home secure by murderous might. This is the custom of that multitude: Within their land they spare no stranger's life, But when those evil-doers chance to find A helpless wight in Mermedonia, 180 Death must be dealt and cruel murder done. I know that 'mongst those townsmen, fast in chains, Thy brother dwells, that saint victorious. It lacks but three nights of the time ordained, When, midst that people, by the hard-gripped spear, In struggle with the heathens, he must needs Send forth his soul all ready to depart; Unless thou come before the appointed time." Straightway did Andrew answer him again: "My Lord, how can I o'er the ocean deep 190 My course accomplish, to that distant shore, As speedily as Thou, O King of glory, Creator of the heavens, dost command? That road thine angel can more easily Traverse from heaven; he knows the watery ways, The salt sea-streams, the wide path of the swan, The battle of the surf against the shore, The terror of the waters, and the tracks Across the boundless land. These foreign men Are not my trusty friends, nor do I know In any wise the counsels of this folk; 200 To me the cold sea-highways are unknown." Him answered then the everliving Lord:-- "Alas, O Andrew, that thou shouldst be slow To undertake this journey, since for God, Almighty One, it were not hard to bring That city hither, 'neath the circling sun, Unto this country, o'er the ways of earth-- The princely city famous, with its men-- If He, the Lord of Glory, with a word 210 Should bid it. So thou mayst not hesitate To undertake this journey, nor art thou Too weak in wit, if thou but keepest well The faithful covenant with thy Lord. Be thou Prepared against the hour, for there can be No tarrying on this errand. Thou shalt go And bear thy life into the grasp of men Full violent, where 'gainst thee shall be raised The strife of warfare, with the battle-din Of heathens, and the warriors' martial might. Even to-morrow with the early dawn, 220 At the sea's border thou shalt straightway go On shipboard, and upon the waters cold, Over the ocean[1], break thy speedy way. Thou hast My blessing over all the earth, Wherever thou shalt fare!" The Holy One, Ruler and Guardian, archangels' King, The world's Defense, betook Him to His home, That glorious home, where souls of righteous men After the body's fall shall life enjoy. So in that town this mission was decreed 230 Unto the noble champion; not abashed In mind was he, but steadfast for the deed Heroic; hardy-hearted, firm in soul, No skulker he from battle, but prepared For warfare, in God's struggle stout and bold. [Footnote 1: Lit. "bath-road."] So at the dawning, when the day first broke, He gat him o'er the sand-downs to the sea, Valiant in heart, and with him went his thanes To walk upon the shingle, where the waves Loud thundered, and the streams of ocean beat Against the shore. Full glad was that brave saint To see upon the sands a galley fair 240 Wide-bosomed. Then, behold, resplendent dawn, Brightest of beacons, came upon her way, Hasting from out the murky gloom of night, And heaven's candle shone across the floods. Three seamen saw he there, a glorious band, Courageous men, upon their ocean-bark Sitting all ready to depart, like men Just come across the deep. The Lord himself It was, the everlasting Lord of hosts, Almighty, with His holy angels twain. In raiment they were like seafaring men, 250 These heroes, like to wanderers on the waves, When in the flood's embrace they sail with ships Upon the waters cold to distant lands. Then he who stood there, eager, on the shore, Upon the shingle, greeted him and said:-- "Whence come ye, men in seamanship expert, Seafaring on your ocean-coursing bark, Your lonely ship? whence has the ocean-stream Wafted you o'er the welter of the waves?" Then answered him again Almighty God, 260 In such wise that the saint who heard His words Wist not what one of speaking men it was With whom he was conversing on the strand. "From the land of Mermedonia are we come, Borne hither from afar; our high-prowed ship Carried us o'er the whale's road with the flood, Our sea-horse fleet, all girt about with speed, Until we reached the country of this folk, Sea-beaten, as the wind did drive us on." Then Andrew humbly answered him again:-- 270 "I fain would beg thee, though but little store Of jewels or of treasure I can give, That thou wouldst bring us in thy lofty ship, Over the ocean[1] on thy high-beaked boat, Unto that people; thou shalt meed receive From God, if kindness thou but show to us Upon our journey." [Footnote 1: Lit. "whale's home."] The Defense of kings, Maker of angels, answered from His ship:-- "Wide-faring foreigners can never dwell There in that country, nor enjoy the land; 280 But in that city they must suffer death Who thither bring their lives from distant shores. And dost thou wish to traverse the wide main, That thou mayst spill thy life in bitter war?" To him did Andrew answer give again:-- "Our hearts' strong hope and yearning drives us forth To seek that country and that far-famed town, If thou, most noble sir, wilt show to us Thy gracious kindness on the wave-tossed deep." Then from His vessel's prow, the angels' Lord, 290 The Savior of mankind, replied to him:-- "Gladly and freely we will carry thee Across the ocean[1], e'en to that far land Which thy desire doth urge thee so to seek, When thou shalt give us the accustomed sum, Thy passage-money; so upon our bark We seamen will grant honor unto you." [Footnote 1: Lit. "fish's bath."] Then straightway Andrew spake to him in words, That friendless saint:--"I have no beaten gold, 300 No treasures, neither wealth nor sustenance, No golden clasps, no land, nor bracelets woven, That thy desire I now may satisfy, Thy worldly wishes, as thou sayst in words." The Prince of Men gave answer where He sat Upon the gangway, o'er the dashing surge:-- "How comes it thou wouldst visit, my dear friend, The sea-hills, boundaries of the ocean-streams, To seek a vessel by the cold sea-cliffs 310 All penniless? Hast thou no store of bread To comfort thee upon the ocean-road, Or pure drink for thy thirst? The life is hard For him who journeys far upon the flood." In answer then did Andrew, wise in wit, Unlock to him the treasure of his words:-- "It is not seemly that with arrogance And words of taunting thou demand reply, When God hath given thee abundant wealth And worldly fortune; better for each man 320 That with humility he kindly greet A traveler bound to other lands far off, As Christ commanded, Lord most glorious. We are His thanes, chosen as champions; He is the King by right, Author and Lord Of wondrous glory, one eternal God Of all created things; by His sole might He comprehendeth all the heavens and earth With holy strength, Giver of victory. He spake the word himself, and bade us fare 330 Throughout the spacious earth, converting souls:-- 'Go now to all the corners of the earth, Far as the waters compass it about, Far as the meadows lie along the roads, And preach the glorious Faith throughout the towns Upon earth's bosom; I am your defense. No gold nor silver treasures need ye bear Upon this journey. I will freely give All things that ye may need.' Lo, thou thyself Mayst hear the story of our journeying 340 With thoughtful mind. Right quickly shall I learn What kindness thou wilt show us on our way." The Lord eternal answered him again:-- "If ye are thanes of Him who did exalt His glory o'er the world, as ye declare, And ye have kept the Holy One's commands, I'll gladly bear you o'er the ocean-streams, As ye do beg me." Then upon the bark They went, bold, valiant men; the heart of each 350 Was filled with joy upon the tossing main. Then Andrew, on the rolling of the waves, Begged for that seaman mercy from the King Who rules in glory; thus he spake in words:-- "May God, the Lord of men, give unto thee Exceeding honor--happiness on earth, Riches in glory--since thou hast made known Thy goodness to me on my journeying!" He sat him by the Guardian of the sea, That noble saint beside his noble Lord. I never heard men tell of comelier ship 360 Laden with sumptuous treasures. In it sat Great heroes, glorious lords, and beauteous thanes. Then spake the ever-living noble Lord, Almighty King; he bade his angel go, His glorious retainer, go and give Meat to the desolate to comfort him Upon the seething flood, that he might bear The life upon the rushing of the waves With greater ease. Then was the ocean[1] stirred And deeply troubled, then the horn-fish played, 370 Shot through the raging deep; the sea-gull gray, Greedy for slaughter, flew in circling flight. The candle of the sky grew straightway dark, The winds waxed strong, the waves whirled, and the surge Leapt high, the ropes creaked, dripping with the waves; The Terror of the waters rose, and stood Above them with the might of multitudes. The thanes were sore afraid, not one of them Dared hope that he would ever reach the land, Of those who by the sea had sought a ship With Andrew, for as yet they did not know 380 Who pointed out the course for that sea-bark. [Footnote 1: Lit. "whale-sea."] When he had eaten, then the faithful thane, Saint Andrew, thanked the noble Counselor, Upon the ocean, on the oar-swept sea:-- "For this repast may God, the righteous Lord, Ruler of hosts, who sheds the light of life, Grant thee reward, and give thee for thy food The bread of heaven, e'en as thou hast shown Good will and kindness to me on the deep. 390 My thanes, these warriors young, are sore afraid; Loud roars the raging, overwhelming sea; The ocean is all troubled, deeply moved; And weary is my band, my company Of valiant-hearted men, afflicted sore." The Lord of men gave answer from the helm:-- "Our ship shall bear us back across the flood Unto the land, and there thy men can wait Upon the shore until thou come again." 400 Straightway those men gave answer unto him, Thanes much-enduring; they would not consent To leave alone upon the vessel's prow Their master dear, and choose themselves the land. "O whither shall we turn us, lordless men, Mourning in heart, forsaken quite by God, Wounded with sin, if we abandon thee? We shall be odious in every land, Hated of every folk, when sons of men, Courageous warriors, in council sit 410 And question which of them did best stand by His lord in battle, when the hand and shield, Worn out by broadswords on the battle-plain, Suffered sore danger in the sport of war." Then spake the noble Lord, the faithful King; Straightway He lifted up His voice and said:-- "If, as thou sayst, thou art indeed a thane Of Him who sits enthroned in majesty, All-glorious King, expound His mysteries, How 'neath the sky He taught speech-uttering men. 420 Long is this journey o'er the fallow flood; Comfort the hearts of thy disciples; great Is yet our way across the ocean-stream, And land is far to seek; the sea is stirred, The waves beat on the shore. Yet easily Can God give aid to men who sail the deep." Then Andrew wisely stablished by his words His followers, those heroes glorious:-- "Ye did consider when ye put to sea That ye would bear your life unto a folk 430 Of foemen; ye would suffer death for love Of God, would give your life within the realm Of dark-skinned Ethiopians. I know Myself that there is One who shieldeth us, The Maker of the angels, Lord of hosts. Rebuked and bridled by the King of might, The Terror of the waters shall grow calm, The leaping sea. So once in days of yore Within a bark upon the struggling waves We tried the waters, riding on the surge, And very fearful seemed the sad sea-roads. 440 The ocean-floods beat fierce against the shores; Oft wave would answer wave; and whiles upstood From out the ocean's bosom, o'er our ship, A Terror on the breast of our sea-boat. There on that ocean-courser bode His time The glorious God, Creator of mankind, Almighty One. The men were filled with fear, They sought protection, mercy from the Lord. And when that company began to call, The King straightway arose, and stilled the waves, 450 The seething of the waters--He who gives Bliss to the angels; He rebuked the winds; The sea subsided, and the boundaries Of ocean-stream grew calm. Then laughed our soul, When under heaven's course our eyes beheld The winds and waves and Terror of the deep Affrighted by the Terror of the Lord. Therefore I say to you in very sooth, The ever-living God does not forsake A man on earth, if courage fail him not." 460 Thus spake the holy champion, wise of heart, He taught his thanes, that blessed warrior; He stablishèd his men, till suddenly Sleep came upon them weary by the mast. The sea grew still, the onset of the waves Turned back again, rough tumult of the flood. Then was the soul of that brave saint rejoiced, After that time of terror; wise in wit, In counsel prudent, he began to speak And thus unlocked the treasure of his words:-- 470 "I never found a better mariner, More skilled than thou in sea-craft, as I think, A stouter oarsman, one more wise in words, Sager in counsel. I will beg of thee Yet one more boon, hero most excellent; Though little treasure I can give to thee, Jewels or beaten gold, I fain would win Thy friendship, if I might, most glorious lord. So shalt thou gain good gifts, and blessed joy 480 In heavenly glory, if of thy great lore Thou'rt bountiful to weary voyagers. One art I fain would learn of thee, brave sir; That since the Lord, the Maker of mankind, Hath given might and honor unto thee, Thou shouldst instruct me how thou pointest out The course of this thy billow-riding ship, Thy sea-horse wet with spray. Though sixteen times, In former days and late, I've been to sea, 490 And rowed with freezing hands upon the deep, The ocean-streams--this makes one voyage more-- Yet even so mine eyes have ne'er beheld A mighty captain steering at the stern Like unto thee. Loud roars the surging flood, Beats on the shore; this sea-boat is full fleet; It fareth foamy-necked most like a bird, And glides upon the deep. I surely know, I never saw upon the ocean-road Such wondrous skill in any seafarer. 500 It is as though the ship were on the land, Where neither storm nor wind can make it move, Nor water-floods can break it, lofty-prowed; Yet on the sea it hasteth under sail. And thou art young, defense of warriors, Not old in winters, rider of the surge; Yet in thy heart thou hast the noble speech Of princes, and dost wisely understand All words employed by men upon the earth." Him answered then the everlasting Lord:-- 510 "Full oft it happens when we sail the sea That with our ships, our ocean-coursing steeds, We break our way across the watery roads[1]-- We and our seamen--when the tempest comes, And many times we suffer sore distress Upon the waves, though sailing bravely on We end our journey; for the seething flood Can hinder no man 'gainst the Maker's will. The power of life He holds--He who doth bind The billows, and doth threaten and rebuke The dusky waves. With justice He shall rule 520 The nations--He who raised the firmament, And made it fast with His own hands; who wrought And did uphold; and with His glory filled Bright Paradise--so was the angels' home Made blessèd by His sole eternal might. [Footnote 1: Lit. "bath-road."] The truth is manifest and clear to all, That thou art thane most excellent of Him, The King who sits enthroned in majesty; Because the swelling ocean knew thee straight, The circuit of the raging ocean knew 530 That thou didst have the Holy Spirit's gifts. The sea, the mingling waves, turned back again; Still grew the Terror, the wide-bosomed flood; The waves subsided straightway when they saw That God had girt thee with His covenant, He who did stablish by His own strong might The blessedness of glory without end." Then spake with holy voice the champion Valiant of heart; he magnified the King Who rules in glory, speaking thus in words:-- 540 "Blest art Thou, King of men, Redeeming Lord; Thy power endureth ever; near and far Thy name is holy, bright with majesty, Renowned in mercy 'mong the tribes of men. There lives no man beneath the vault of heaven, Ruler of nations, Savior of men's souls, No one of mortal race, who can declare How gloriously Thou dealest Thy good gifts, Or tell their number. It is manifest That Thou has been most gracious to this youth. 550 And hast adorned him with Thy holy grace, Young as he is; for he is wise in wit And in discourse of words. I never found A mind more prudent in a man so young." The Glory of kings, the Source and End of all, Gave answer from the ship and boldly asked:-- "Tell, if thou canst, O prudent-minded thane, How on the earth it ever came to pass That faithless men, the nation of the Jews, Raised blasphemy against the Son of God 560 With hearts of wickedness. Unhappy men, Cruel, malicious, they did not believe In Him who gave them life, that He was God, Though many miracles among the tribes He showed full clear and manifest; but they, Guilt-laden men, knew not the Royal Child, Him that was born a comfort and defense Unto mankind, to all who dwell on earth. In wisdom and in power of speech increased The noble Prince; and aye the Lord of might 570 Showed forth his wonders to that stubborn folk." Straightway did Andrew answer him again:-- "How could it happen 'mong the tribes of men That thou, my friend, hast never heard men tell The Savior's power, how He made known His grace Throughout the world--Son of the Mighty One. Speech gave He to the dumb; the deaf did hear; The halt and lepers He made glad in heart, Those who long time had suffered, sick of limb, Weary and weak, fast bound in misery. 580 Throughout the towns the blind received their sight, Full many men upon the plains of earth He woke from death by His almighty word; And many another miracle He showed, Royally famous, by His mighty strength. Water He blessed before the multitude, And bade it turn to wine, a better kind, For happiness of men. Likewise He fed Five thousand of mankind with fishes twain 590 And with five loaves; the companies sat down With hearts fatigued, rejoicing in their rest, All weary after wandering; on the ground Where pleased them best the men received their food. Lo, thou mayst hear, good sir, how, while He lived, The Lord of glory by His words and deeds Showed love to us-ward, led us by His lore To that fair home of joy where men may dwell Freely with angels in high blessedness-- Even they who after death go to the Lord." 600 Again the Ruler of the waves unlocked The treasure of His words, and boldly spake:-- "That I may truly know, I pray thee tell Whether thy Lord showed forth His miracles-- Which on the earth for comfort of mankind Full many times He worked--before men's sight, Where bishops, scribes, and princes held discourse Sitting in council. For it seems to me That out of envy they contrived this guile, 610 Led by deep error and the Devil's lore; Those men foredoomed to death too readily Gave ear to wicked traitors; their ill fate Deceived, misled them, gave them counsel false; Weary 'mong weary men they soon must bear Torments and biting flames in Satan's arms." Straightway did Andrew answer him again:-- "I tell thee truly that He ofttimes worked Wonder on wonder in the sight of men, 620 Before their rulers; and in secret too The Lord of men did deeds of public good, Which he devised for their eternal peace." Him answered then the sure Defense of kings:-- "Couldst thou, wise hero, warrior strong of heart, Tell me in words the wonders that He showed In secret, when, as oft, ye sat alone In converse with the Lord who rules the skies?" Straightway did Andrew answer him again:-- "Why dost thou question me with crafty speech, My dearest lord, thou who dost truly know 630 By virtue of thy wisdom every hap." The Ruler of the waves replied to him:-- "'Tis not in blame that I thus question thee, Nor to insult thee on the ocean-road.[1] My mind is blithe and blossoming with joy At thy most noble speech; not I am blithe Alone, for every man is glad in heart And comforted in soul who far or near Remembers in his heart what that One did, God's Son on earth. Souls unto Him were turned; 640 With eagerness they sought the joys of heaven, The angels' home, by aid of His great might." [Footnote 1: Lit. "whale-road."] Straightway did Andrew answer Him again:-- "In thee I see an understanding heart Of wondrous power, the gift of victory; With wisdom blooms thy breast, with brightest joy. Lo, I will tell to thee from first to last The words and wisdom of the noble Lord, 650 As I have heard it oft
{'title': 'Andreas: The Legend of St. Andrew by Robert K. Root', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}