Advancing toward the gates behind their shields.
Then the Lord of hosts spoke to Andrew.
God gave his warrior words of strength:
“Now is the time for wisdom and courage.
Do not stay concealed but reveal your spirit, 1250
Strengthen your heart, steady your soul,
So these unholy heathens may clearly see
My strength in your stand, my purpose in your power.
They cannot kill you without my consent,
Call death upon you against my will, 1255
Or consume your flesh in unholy fashion.
They can slash but not slaughter, cut but not kill.
I will always be with you, standing at your side.”
After these words, a great throng arrived,
Swollen with rage. Their leaders unleashed them 1260
To find the foreigner and bring him back
With his hands bound, his head lowered.
Once the warriors could see him with their own eyes,
They wanted to kill him without considering
The consequences. Their dark craving was for carving. 1265
They ordered him taken and bound tight,
Then dragged his body over the slaughter-plains,
Across mountain gorges, along cliff-roads,
Here and there amid the ancient ruins,
The old work of giants, and inside the cities. 1270
The saint’s body was sorely wounded,
Soaked with blood. His bone-house was broken.
His blood rushed out in waves of hot gore,
But Andrew kept courage. His faith was firm,
His mind unmoving, his soul free from sin, 1275
Even as he suffered sword-slash and knife-stroke,
The punishing pain of each cruel cut,
Drawn out in time in endless torment.
The saintly man, bright as the sun,
Was savagely scourged all day long 1280
As the sun went gliding across the sky,
Gleaming in heaven, finally sliding
Down into darkness. Then the unholy heathens
Led their hated enemy, Andrew, to prison.
He was protected by the love and courage of Christ, 1285
Who can never be conquered, never defeated,
And his faith remained firm, his soul radiant,
In the protection of his Prince, in the light of the Lord.
Then the brave saint was bound in darkness,
His heart heavy, his mind devoted to prayer, 1290
His faith firm, his courage unwavering.
The night seemed endless. Snow lashed the earth
With winter storms. Winds whipped the land
With sleet and hail, freezing blizzards.
Bitter cold attacked the earth, locked the land 1295
With ice-chains. Frost and mist,
Gray winter warriors, stalked the earth.
Icicles hung like wicked water-spears.
Rivers shivered and froze like rock.
Ice formed a bridge over the water. 1300
Darkness and cold ruled the land,
But the innocent man kept courage in prison,
His mind steadfast, his heart secure
In the goodness and glory of his beloved Lord.
He spent the long winter-cold night 1305
In great affliction but without any fear,
Knowing that he had always given praise to God
With holy words and works. He prayed humbly
Until the gem of heaven, the radiant sun,
Announced the dawn. He basked in the Lord’s light. 1310
Then a grim mob descended on the dark dungeon,
Slaughter-hungry and shouting for meat.
They ordered Andrew, the noble man,
The faithful hero, into the hands of his foes.
He was scourged and flayed—his wounds wept. 1315
His body had no relief from this blood-torture,
This mindless terror. Then the weary hero’s
Breast heaved and he began to speak
As a circle of tears welled up in his eyes:
“Dear Lord, Giver of all life’s gifts, 1320
Look down on my suffering. You see the woes
Of every warrior, the grief of every person.
I trust in your power, your might and mercy,
My Source and Savior, and I know you will never
Forsake me here to the hands of these heathens 1325
So long as I never stray far from your teachings,
Your laws and lore. You are my protector,
The source of hope for all of your people.
Save me now from this foul fiend,
The first sinner, the outlaw of angels, 1330
The outcast of heaven. Don’t let this terrible bane
Of mankind mock and torture your faithful servant.”
Then the hideous demon, the savage spirit,
The devil from hell, damned to eternal torment,
Appeared to the mob, urging them on: 1335
“Smash this sinful man in the mouth—
He talks too much and twists words into lies.”
So they tortured him until the sun went down
Behind the high cliffs and steep crags,
Then dragged him back into the dark prison, 1340
Where the faithful man had to endure terrible filth.
Then the master of misery, a hideous monster,
Stalked into the saint’s cell with seven dreads,
Terrible demons. He meant to torment the saint
With his devilish tongue and sneering words: 1345
“What did you expect when you arrogantly sailed
Into the arms of your enemies. Tell me, Andrew,
Where has your glory gone? Your power and protection?
You scorned our ancient idols, mocking our faith.
Do you claim this kingdom now for yourself, 1350
As your vile mentor did, the man called Christ
Who was puffed up with pride? He was killed by Herod,
The king of the Jews, when he climbed the cross.
Your savior was only a ghost on the gallows,
A corpse in an earth-cave, a ghoul underground. 1355
Now I will bring my baneful warriors
To torture your body and tear you down.
They will offer you a cup of humiliation to drink.”
Then the satanic leader said to his warriors:
“Let the edge of the arrow, the point of the spear, 1360
Be poisoned with venom. Let their tongues snake
Close to this alien’s arrogant heart.
Let him pay for his boasting with a bitter blade
In his unholy belly. Let the blood flow.”
Then the savage foes rushed on the saint, 1365
Eager to catch him in a clutch of spears
And gather him up in a deadly embrace—
But God was his guardian, his steadfast Savior,
Who protected Andrew with his awesome power.
When the blood-hungry savages saw Christ’s cross 1370
On Andrew’s countenance, the glorious sign,
They fell back afraid, turned and took flight.
Then the ancient fiend, the prisoner of hell,
Began to mourn and lament his loss.
The unholy demon sang a howling song: 1375
“Why have you failed me, my unfaithful warriors?
Where was your courage? Your killing stroke?
Your righteous anger? This outlaw lives,
Leaving me locked in anger and agony.”
Then one of the loathsome evil spirits, 1380
An outcast from heaven, answered his lord:
“We can’t kill him with cunning or craft,
Sword-swipe or spear-thrust, iron or evil.
Why don’t you have a go, almighty leader— 138
5
Let’s see how you fare in a fierce battle.
Unleash your frenzy on his steadfast faith
If you’re not afraid of the Lord’s lonely warrior.
If you want some advice, best of banes,
Before you rush madly back into battle, 1390
Craft your words, work out your arguments.
We should mock his misery, unravel his arrogance—
Maybe our unholy insults will undo him.
We need sharp, subtle words to pierce his defenses.
Fighting a fierce saint is no easy struggle!” 1395
Then the demon who lived in a clutch of pain,
A walking torment, cried out loudly:
“All right, Andrew, my scheming sorcerer,
How long have you practiced these evil arts?
How many men have you misled into misery? 1400
How many women have you enticed into woe?
Your deception is done, your preaching is worthless.
There are no more multitudes in this mean prison.
Your only followers will be torment and terror,
And these will hound you to the gates of hell. 1405
We will rip your flesh and serve up your heart.
Your only comfort will be death’s last drink,
The end of agony. My warriors are waiting
To embrace you in battle with sword-clutch
And blade-kiss. We will crush the life 1410
Out of your body and destroy your spirit—
To say nothing of your bones, sinews, and blood.
Who is so mighty in this world that he is able
To free you from the shackles of my fierce strength?”
Then Andrew answered back immediately: 1415
“Listen! The almighty Lord, the only Savior
Of men on earth, can easily free me.
He’s the one who wrapped you in chains of fire,
Tied you twisting in eternal torment,
After he threw you from your homeland in heaven 1420
For doubting and despising his holy word.
That was the beginning of evil and exile—
Your life as an outcast that will never end.
Your misery will increase moment by moment,
Your torment deepen day by day.” 1425
Then the fierce fiend suddenly turned and fled,
That grim stalker guilty of a feud with God.
In the half-light of dawn, a horde of heathens
Sought the holy saint, dragging him before them
A third time. They wanted to weaken 1430
The warrior’s heart, carve up his courage,
But under God’s watch this could not be.
They stirred up hatred, rousing their wrath.
The saint was bound, beaten, and scourged,
Cunningly cut, though just short of killing, 1435
Pierced with pain while the daylight lasted.
Weary with wounds, heavy of heart,
The holy and harrowed warrior cried out
Weeping to God, steadfast in his faith:
“I have never endured under heaven’s vault 1440
A harder lot in life at my Lord’s command,
As I follow my faith, proclaiming God’s law.
My limbs are unlocked, my sinews separated,
My bone-house broken, my body bloody—
My wounds are weeping, oozing red gore. 1445
O Lord Victorious, Ruler and Redeemer,
How heavy was your heart, severe your suffering,
On that endless day among the Jews,
When you climbed the cross, Lord of creation,
The living God, and said to your Father 1450
From the high gallows, the killing tree:
‘Father of angels, Ruler of heaven,
Beloved Creator of light and life,
Tell me why have you forsaken me?’
For three days I have suffered savage torment. 1455
Now I pray in this passion: Grant me the gift
Of giving up my spirit into your holy hands.
Let me come home to the celebration of souls
And sit at the table for the feast of the faithful.
You promised by the power of your holy word, 1460
When you encouraged twelve dedicated disciples
To travel the battle-road of suffering and strife,
That the hostility and hatred of angry enemies
Would not harm us. You pledged that our precious
Bodies would be unbloodied, our bones unbroken, 1465
Our sinews unslit, our flesh unstripped—
No lock of hair would be lost from our heads,
No corpses left cruelly lying on the road,
If only we followed your law, fulfilled your teaching.
Now my sinews are severed, my blood is shed, 1470
My locks are scattered across the land, dead in the dust.
Dying looks dearer now than clutching to life.”
Then a voice spoke to Andrew out of the blue—
The King of glory spoke these resonant words:
“Do not weep over your wretched plight, 1475
My dearest friend. Do not mourn this misery.
Be steadfast and strong, endure this evil.
I stand by your side, sustaining your strength,
Shielding your soul in my protecting power.
I created the world—I cradle and control it. 1480
The virtuous will find victory, the evil no end
Of peril and pain. The multitudes will declare
This truth on Doomsday, that all of creation,
Heaven and earth, will collapse and perish
Before one word I have uttered is undone. 1485
Look behind you and see the trail of torment,
Where your body has been dragged, your bones broken,
Your blood spilled. These savage heathens
Have done enough, the bitterest of blows,
The worst of woes. My shield will sustain you. 1490
They cannot touch you again with their spears.”
Then the holy warrior, the beloved soldier,
Looked back at the long track of his tears,
As his God and Glory-king had commanded,
And saw beautiful, bright groves, blooming 1495
With flowers everywhere his blood had fallen.
His gore had transformed the dead land
Into God’s green grandeur, a garden of light.
Then the protector of warriors spoke these words:
“All glory to you, God, all praise to your power, 1500
Ruler of nations, Redeemer and King.
You have not forsaken me in my suffering
Or left me to perish, an outcast alone.”
So the holy hero continued to praise God
Until the radiant sun slid down under the sea. 1505
Then for the fourth time the savage leaders,
Those fierce foes, led Andrew to prison.
They wanted to warp his will, pervert his purpose,
Crush his courage in the demon-dark night,
But the Lord of heaven, the Glory of men, 1510
The Giver of light, the greatest of teachers,
Came into the prison to comfort his servant.
The Creator of life boldly commanded
His broken body to be whole, saying:
“You shall no longer suffer the pain and torment 1515
That these heathen warriors would wield over you.”
So Andrew rose up heart-strong and healed,
Freed from his torment and thanking his Lord.
His body was not blemished or his clothes torn,
His bone-house broken or his locks shorn— 1520
And all his wounds weeping blood were gone.
Through God’s grace and power, he was whole,
Sound in body, sustained in his soul.
&n
bsp; Listen! I’ve been singing the story of a saint,
Weaving words of praise in poetry for his works, 1525
Though his courage and wisdom are beyond my ken.
This saint’s life is worthy of great study,
And it needs a more powerful poet than I
To shape his song of suffering and glory
And say how he kept courage in the face of evil. 1530
Still I must weave his life into words.
It is traditional to tell how the holy warrior
Met with misery in that ancient city,
Often turning woe into wonder.
We have learned that he saw by a weathered wall 1535
Some ancient pillars, the old work of giants,
Firmly fixed, steadfast in stone.
The bold-minded warrior, wise beyond words,
Held counsel with the column, bravely saying:
“Listen, O marble, to the order of the Lord, 1540
Who commands all creatures on heaven and earth.
Everything trembles before the face of God
When he descends with his heavenly host,
Seeking out all of mankind on middle-earth.
Let a powerful river run out of this pillar, 1545
A mighty stream flowing from its base,
Since God commands you to punish this people,
Unholy heathens, fiends without faith,
With a ravaging flood. His wrath is righteous.
You are dearer than silver, greater than gold. 1550
On a stone like you, God wrote his mysteries,
His sacred laws, a treasure-house of words,
The ten commandments that he gave to Moses.
Afterwards Joshua and Tobias, those righteous men,
Protected and preserved them. They feared God 1555
And revered his gift, a wonder of words.
So you can see that the King of creation,
The Lord of angels, honored your kin
More than the race of gems with his written laws.
Now he requires you to reveal his power, 1560
Showing that you can comprehend his command.”
Then the stone suddenly split—it wasted no time
In obeying God—and a great river ran out
Surging over the land. By dawn it had grown
Into a mighty flood. After the heathens had finished 1565
Their daylong feasting, they had a bitter drink,
For they finally woke up to a deadly threat
As the salt-sea stalked that savage city,
The unleashed waves ravaging the land.
Fear rode on the flood. People panicked— 1570
That deluge spelled doom. Death exulted.
The ancient sea tucked in the young
Beneath a watery blanket. There was no waking
From that long sleep. That mead was too strong—
Its honey had some sting. Everyone drank death. 1575
The Complete Old English Poems Page 32
