When her beloved kin carried his message
Out of the west and across the wave-road.
Helena commanded her servants to seek
Skilled stone-masons to build on that holy hill
The house of God, the greatest of churches, 1030
As the Lord himself, the Guardian of souls,
Had counseled her quietly from high heaven.
Then she ordered the cross artfully adorned
With gold and gems, the brightest stones,
And placed in a silver casket with precious clasps. 1035
In that treasure-house, the tree of life,
The victory-beam, has rested ever since,
Perfect, protected, inviolable, unassailable.
It stands ready to support us in our suffering,
To sustain us through every trial and tribulation, 1040
To remind us of Christ’s redeeming role
In offering us aid, the gift of grace.
Then after some time, Judas the discoverer
Was bathed in baptism, cleansed of sin,
Converted to Christ. The Holy Spirit 1045
Made a home in his heart as he fully repented.
He chose a home in heaven over heresy in hell,
The love of the Lord over the idolatry of demons.
His God and Judge granted him mercy.
Judas was baptized, who before was blind, 1050
And gladly brought into the living light.
His heart was lifted, his spirit inspired
To a better life and the hope of heaven.
Fate had ordained that he should find
The fullness of faith and be loved by the Lord, 1055
Cherished by Christ. This became clear
When Queen Helena commanded Eusebius,
Bishop of Rome, both learned and wise,
To be brought to the holy city of Jerusalem
For consultation and counsel, and to ordain Judas 1060
To the priesthood to serve the people there.
Eventually Eusebius confirmed him as bishop
Through the grace and power of the Holy Spirit
And gave him a new name, Cyriacus.
So he was known as “the Savior’s law” 1065
Throughout the city. For his many virtues
He came to hold a place in the house of God.
But Helena was still concerned about something—
She wondered what happened to the cruel nails
That pierced Christ’s hands and feet on the cross, 1070
As the Son of God hung on the tree of glory.
The queen of Christians began to inquire
Of Cyriacus whether he might unravel this riddle
Through the power of the spirit, saying to him:
“Noble Cyriacus, protector of the people, 1075
You rightly revealed to us the hiding place
Of Christ’s cross, that glorious gallows-tree
On which the Healer of souls, the Son of God,
Was brutally hanged by heathen hands.
My restless mind keeps reminding me of the nails. 1080
I want you to find them wherever they’re buried,
Discover them deep in the dark earth,
Concealed in the soil from human eyes.
My mind will not cease its endless mourning
Until the almighty Father, Lord of hosts, 1085
Savior of mankind, the Holy One on high,
Consents to reveal those terrible nails.
Now my best of heralds and dearest disciple,
Lift up your holy prayer in all humility
To the bright radiance, the King of heaven, 1090
Beseeching the Glory of hosts to hear us
And reveal that terrible treasure under earth,
Those grim-gripping nails in an old grave,
A secret too long concealed from Christians.”
Then the holy bishop, his heart inspired, 1095
His spirit strengthened, went forth eagerly
With a great company praising God
To seek the treasure that the queen requested.
When he came to Calvary, he bowed his head
And opened his heart—he held no secrets. 1100
The holy seeker called humbly to God,
The Guardian of angels, asking for aid
In finding the nails in their unknown grave.
Then God the Father and the comforting Spirit
Revealed a sign in the form of fire 1105
Rising up from the earth where the noblest of nails
Lay buried below through a cunning act.
The flame shot up, brighter than the sun,
A great revelation from the holy Gift-giver.
The people there saw a mighty miracle 1110
When out of the darkness, like stars or gemstones,
The nails near the bottom of the pit, their prison,
Began to gleam with a heavenly radiance.
The people rejoiced, praising God,
Exulting in the bright act of revelation, 1115
Even though in earlier days they had embraced
Ignorance and evil, seduced by the devil’s deceit
To turn away from the tree and the truth of Christ.
With a single voice they cried out, saying:
“At last we see for ourselves the victory-sign, 1120
The wonder of God, though we once were blind
To the truth and denied the faith with our lies.
Now the divine light is revealed, the truth told,
The miracle made known. For this great gift
We sing in praise: Glory to God in heaven.” 1125
Then the holy bishop whose once-hard heart
Had turned to Christ, whose spirit was inspired
By the Son of God, was gladdened again.
Trembling with awe, he carried the nails
To the noble queen. Cyriacus had certainly 1130
Fulfilled her wish to unearth that wonder.
Then all at once there was the sound of weeping
As a flood of tears fell on her cheeks,
Not from pain or grief but from pure passion
And her love of Christ. Her joy flowed freely 1135
From the orbs of her eyes, falling down
On a bright web of filigree wire, a pendant
Worn by the weeping queen. Beaming with joy,
Radiant with faith, she knelt down over the nails,
A gift from God and a solace for her sorrow. 1140
She thanked the almighty Lord of victories
For the truth revealed on that tree of glory,
The promise proclaimed by the ancient prophets,
The redemption radiating through the reach of creation,
The comfort and consolation of the living Lord. 1145
She was filled with the gift of God’s grace,
The wonder of divine wisdom, the generous joy
Of the Holy Spirit. The tree had transformed
Her great heart. She knew that the Son of God,
Who rode the rood and revealed the truth, 1150
Would be her protector, her shield and salvation.
Then Helena eagerly began to seek in her soul,
Through an understanding of spiritual mysteries,
A pathway to glory and the God of hosts.
Our heavenly Father, the almighty King, 1155
Supported and sustained her wish in this world.
The promise of the prophets sung from the beginning
Was now fulfilled. The faithful queen of the people
Gathered her thoughts through the grace of the Spirit,
Wondering in what way the nails might serve 1160
Some holy purpose in this world through Christ’s will
For the benefit of mankind. She summoned a man
Known for his wisdom to come for a consultation
And asked his ad
vice. He replied to the queen:
“It is fitting for you in your faith to remember 1165
The words of the Lord and keep his commandment
Since the mighty Savior of mankind has given you
Spiritual victory and the power of wisdom.
Bear the noblest of nails to the worthiest king
In this world to be used as a bit for his bridle. 1170
When he rides forth in battle, the bit will be famous
Over all the earth, and the king will conquer
Every enemy he meets with his bold-hearted men,
His sword-wielding warriors. Wherever armies clash
In fierce combat, bitter foes on the battlefield, 1175
He shall have victory in strife, safety for his soldiers,
And the power of peace-keeping after the war,
When he bears this symbol, the noble nailed-bridle,
On his bright horse through the arc of arrows,
The thrust of spears, the slash of swords, 1180
In the storm of war. These victory-nails
Will be known as invincible to all enemies—
So the prophet Zechariah, wise of mind,
Inspired in spirit, once spoke these words:
‘It will come to pass that the famous king’s horse 1185
Will be known by the multitudes in the midst of battle
By its bit and bridle-rings. That sign shall be called
Holy to God, and the fortunate king
Carried high on that horse shall know victory
In battle and find great fame in this world.’” 1190
Then Helena quickly commanded this to be done,
The nailed bit and bridle to be made
For the prince and ring-giver, her son the king,
And sent this gift over the sea-road home to him.
Then she commanded the best of the Jews 1195
To come together in the city of Jerusalem
For a conference at court. The queen began
To mentor the wise men, counseling them all
That they should love the Lord, refrain from sin,
Keep the peace, cherish the bonds between them, 1200
And obey the Christian counsels of Bishop Cyriacus,
Who understood the scriptures and the Lord’s law.
So the bishopric of Jerusalem was well established,
And people came to Cyriacus from far and near
To ease their suffering—the lame and limb-sick, 1205
The feeble and fumbling, the weak and wounded,
The blood-stained and blind, the leprous and mind-bent,
The miserable and heart-heavy. The bishop’s care
And his healing hands always fashioned a cure.
When Helena was ready to leave, she rewarded him 1210
With precious gifts before she sailed home
And commanded the faithful who loved the Lord,
Women and men, to honor in their hearts and minds
That glorious day on which God’s holy rood
Was richly revealed, the greatest of trees 1215
Ever rooted in earth, growing up boldly
Under its leaves. Spring was almost over—
It was only six days till the onset of summer
In the month of May, the warmth of the year.
For all those who remember the festival day 1220
On which we celebrate the glory of the cross
And Christ the Lord who stretched out his arms
Over all the world on that killing rood,
May the doors of hell be closed and locked,
And the gates of heaven unclasped forever, 1225
So that the kingdom of angels is opened to us,
And we are welcomed into the heart’s homeland
And given our due along with Mary
In a land where we will abide forever
In eternal bliss with Christ the Lord. 1230
Finit.
Now that I have told this sacred story
About the rood, I am old and ready
To follow the final road. My flesh is frail,
My body failing. I have woven these words 1235
Out of study and thought, winnowing them long
Into the night-watch. I too was blind
To the full truth about Christ’s cross
Till my mind was filled with the Lord’s light,
Revealing the depths of divine understanding. 1240
My words and works were stained with sin,
And I was bound in misery, wound in woe,
Before God granted this feeble old man,
Whose mind was missing its careful clarity
Of younger days, a sacred gift, a share of grace. 1245
He opened my heart and soul to the truth,
Easing my body and enlightening my mind,
Unlocking the ancient art of poetry,
Which I have practiced with great joy.
In earlier days, I only remembered 1250
God’s cross as through a glass darkly.
I couldn’t see the sacred meanings buried
Like divine secrets beneath the words.
Until I was taught by the tree of glory
And my vision cleared by the Holy Spirit, 1255
The truth was hidden like unrevealed runes.
Then man seemed like a sputtering flame (Cen),
A guttering fire bound to die down,
Blown by cares and sorrows even when blessed
By heartfelt gifts in his glorious hall, 1260
As his memory unraveled, his world unwound.
Once he could hold his bow (Yr), as a bold warrior
Has need (Nyd) to do while riding his horse (Eoh),
Adorned with gold—but now he mourns in mind
For the miles left behind by man and mount. 1265
His joy (Wynn) is fleeting, his pleasure passing
With the march of years. His youth is gone—
His battle-armor gathers dust instead of glory.
His manly strength (Ur) withers in the world,
Shriveled by time—it dribbles away day by day 1270
Like the slow, indiscernible drip of water (Lagu)
Or the inexorable ebbing of tides in time.
No worldly wealth (Feoh) ever remains for long.
It moves from treasure to trash, from delight to dust,
As time passes. It disappears like the wind— 1275
Substantial in the storm, rushing and raging,
Only to die down, suppressed and silent.
So everything we hold dear in this earthly realm
Will be destroyed. The Doomsday fire
Will engulf those who cherished only good 1280
In this worldly life, when God comes in judgment
With his host of angels. Each man and woman
Will hear from the Lord’s lips the final truth,
An undeniable accounting of words and works.
Each will pay a high price for shameless sins, 1285
Discover doom for evil deeds and wicked thoughts.
On Doomsday the Lord will divide the multitudes—
Every man, woman, and child who has ever lived—
Into three parts before they enter the judgment flames.
The righteous truth-seekers, his faithful followers, 1290
Those blessed by God and worthy of glory,
Will be placed highest in the holy fire,
Where they will endure the purifying flame
With small suffering as it pleases the Lord.
In the searing middle, the sinful but sorry, 1295
Wicked but woeful, miserable and melancholy,
Will be chastened with heat and smothering smoke.
At the bottom of the fire in the ravaging flame
Will be placed the evil plotters, the crafty deceivers,
The cursed liars, the wicked destroyers, 1300
&
nbsp; An unrighteous rabble, an unholy host.
They will dwell in the grip of bone-blazing fire,
Soul-searing heat, headed for the devil’s clutch
In the endless abyss. They will never enter
The mind of God, the memory of the Lord, 1305
But be cast finally from the fierce flames
Into the fiery abyss of bitter hell.
For the other two parts, it will be quite different—
They shall see the God of victories,
The Lord of hosts, and the exalted angels. 1310
They will rise up in glory, separated from sin,
Wholly purified of all evil and iniquity,
As gold is refined in the fire, purged of impurity.
They will know peace and eternal well-being,
The Lord’s blessing, and the gift of grace. 1315
The Guardian of angels shall be kind to those
Who despised wickedness and avoided sin,
Calling out to Christ, Son of the Creator,
With their joyful words. They will shine like angels,
Surrounded by the eternal radiance of the Redeemer, 1320
And enjoy their inheritance with the King of glory,
Their home in heaven forevermore.
Amen.
THE EXETER BOOK
INTRODUCTION
I am a sheaf of songs scribbled on the cow’s skin
By once-wing darting from horn to hide,
Old as a millennium in a holy house in Exeter.
I hold in my arms Advent and Ascension,
A monk on a hillside, a panther and whale,
A Christlike bird, a soul and body,
A plethora of riddles—prayer and plow,
Bagpipe and Bible, moon and sun,
Iceberg and bellows, a bawdy onion,
Fish and river, sword and shield,
Cock and hen, bow and bookworm.
Sometimes a wife cries out in me—
Her husband responds with a gift of runes.
Sometimes I celebrate beautiful towns,
Sometimes I cry at the edge of ruins.
Once I was wounded by sharp knives,
Stained by beer or a glob of glue,
Used as a hot-plate and a filing cabinet
For precious gold leaves. I last longer
Than any author. Say who I am
Who sings mouthless to the minds of men.
The Exeter Book is a manuscript collection of poems in the Library of the Dean and Chapter of Exeter Cathedral in Exeter, England. Muir notes that “the combined codicological and literary evidence indicates that the anthology was designed and copied out circa 965–75, making it perhaps the oldest surviving book of vernacular poetry from Anglo-Saxon England” (1). The first known owner of the book was Bishop Leofric, who died in 1072. Before his death, Leofric drew up a list of items he intended to donate to the cathedral, including i mycel englisc boc be gehwilcum þingum on leoðwisan geworht, “a great English book about various matters crafted in poetry,” which most scholars take to be the Exeter Book. The manuscript contains 130 folios. The first seven folios constitute introductory materials added at a later date from another manuscript. The Exeter Book proper occupies folios 8–130. There are missing gatherings between Guthlac B and Azarias: The Suffering and Songs of the Three Youths, and between Riddles 67 and 68 (my numbering) and possibly at the end of the manuscript after the last riddle. There are also missing folios in a number of places.
The Complete Old English Poems Page 39
