The Complete Old English Poems
Page 50
Ruined them both and led to torment
And the loss of home. Grim death 50
Ruled all earth’s inhabitants, all living things.
Still, a great number of saintly souls
In various places in the wide world,
In various ages in our whole history,
Have wanted to work the will of God 55
To reap rewards and regain a place
In the homeland of heaven. Revered books
Tell us how Guthlac through God’s grace
Became blessed among the English.
He chose for himself eternal power and protection. 60
He worked wonders, miracles for men.
His fame traveled far and wide
Throughout the cities and countryside in Britain.
People said that through God’s power
Guthlac appeared, healing the sick, 65
Caring for the infirm, curing the afflicted.
He restored broken bodies and unhappy souls,
Those shackled in pain and sick at heart.
Many wretched people brought him their sorrow,
Their misery and anguish. He brought them hope, 70
Comfort and consolation, help and healing.
He was God’s servant to the wounded world.
No one can know the number of miracles
That Guthlac did through the grace of God
In his concern for people and his love of the Lord. 75
Often a death-band of demons, separated from glory,
Came to the house on the hillside where the saintly
Servant of the Lord, the strong and steadfast
Guthlac lived. In that wild wasteland,
Bereft of beauty, stripped of joy, 80
Those evil demons bellowed and bawled,
Shouted and screeched, raising a hubbub,
A clamor of sounds, a cacophony of tongues.
The Lord’s champion, his chosen servant,
Strongly withstood that unholy host. 85
Those fierce fiends never acknowledged
A time of retreat. They came in shrieks,
Warring and wailing. Sometimes the shape-shifters
Howled like beasts in unholy herds;
Sometimes they cringed back into human shapes 90
With cursing cries. Sometimes the faith-breakers,
Twisting in flame, slithered like serpents
Or muscled into dragons, breathing and blasting
Venomous fire. They never found Guthlac
An easy target. The bold warrior was wise 95
To their tricks and torments. He stood his ground,
Never yielding to their deadly disguises.
He remained a holy man in his hillside home.
Sometimes bird families driven by hunger
Flocked to his hand for a gentle feeding, 100
Warbling their thanks for a welcome feast.
Sometimes travelers came to his table
To find some hope for their ailing hearts.
Pilgrims often came to his home in the hills,
Anxiously seeking his healing solace. 105
No one left a meeting with Guthlac mired in sin
Or marked by misery. He restored them all,
Body and soul, untwisted their torment,
Unraveled their rage, undid their despair.
Guthlac was a healer through God’s grace. 110
The Lord protected him and gave him power
And perfect joy as long as he lived.
After Guthlac had inhabited the wilderness
For fifteen years, his death drew near,
An end to his suffering and strife. The Holy Spirit 115
Was sent down to comfort that blessed preacher,
Whose soul was alight with the urge to journey
Homeward to heaven. Illness invaded him,
But he endured with courage, keen to greet God,
Who had promised him a radiant and rich reward, 120
The peace of paradise. Pain pressed his bone-house,
His frail breast-hoard, in the nightly gloom,
Harried his heart, enfeebled his mind.
The spirit of Guthlac was glad to go home.
The Father of angels would not let him linger 125
Any longer in this world, suffering but sinless,
For his warrior had pleased him every day
With his courage and wisdom in words and works.
So almighty God reached down his hand
In might and mercy to touch the spirit 130
Of his faithful servant who was strong of heart,
Staunch of purpose. Hope was renewed;
Joy was at home in his holy breast.
His body-hoard burned; the illness inflamed
His heart and mind. His limbs felt heavy, 135
Weighed down with pain. His muscles relaxed,
Opening his heart’s hoard for his soul to soar.
His eyes opened wide—he saw the truth—
That God had come down, his glorious guest.
He strengthened his spirit against the fierce fiends, 140
Fearing nothing—not the agony of illness
Or the attack of demons, not the severing of death
Or the dread of doom. A praise-song to God
Reverberated in his heart; love of the Lord
Animated his spirit. His pain was undone. 145
Time faded but he felt no great care
That his body and soul, wedded in the world,
Should break their bond. The days hurried by;
The nights darkened down. The hour approached
When a man must face the cruel consequences 150
Of his ancestors’ fall and his own failings,
The fate of death, and meet God’s judgment,
The legacy of Adam and Eve in Eden
When they paid the price for the taste of sin.
In that hour of suffering, Guthlac’s strength 155
Grew weary, but his spirit was steadfast.
A grim disease burned hot in his breast—
His heart swelled, his bone-house burned.
The bitter drink that Eve offered Adam
At the world’s beginning was ready for Guthlac. 160
The fiend had first served that hateful potion
To innocent Eve in the Garden of Eden;
She gave the deadly drink to her dear husband.
After that cup of crime, all people and their progeny
Paid a steep price for that bitter brew, 165
That first sin. After the fall, no one
Of the race of men could ever escape
The drink of death from that cruel cup.
A wise man knows that this is what comes
From the sin-swallow, the taste of mortality— 170
Eventually life unlocks itself,
And the death-doors welcome each of us in.
No fleshly creature, whether man or woman,
Noble or humble, can escape the clutches
Of unwavering death. That fierce foe 175
Rushes after us, counting on illness, strife,
Or the twist of time to take us down.
The lonely stalker, the savage shade,
The relentless warrior, stole close to Guthlac.
The holy man lived with a young servant, 180
A caretaker who visited him each day.
He was kind and considerate and loved to sit
At Guthlac’s side in God’s temple, listening
To the preacher speak about his heavenly home.
Now he wanted to hear what the saint had to say 185
In his time of need. Sickness assaulted
His beloved master, harrowing his heart.
His mood was anxious, his grief was gathering.
The servant approached Guthlac, asking:
“My friend and master, beloved father, 190
Brot
her to all, caretaker of companions,
How is it that your body is so tormented,
Your spirit assailed? I have never seen you
So sorely pressed. Can you still converse,
Or have you lost the power of speech? 195
It seems to me that last night your life
Was in jeopardy. Today illness overcomes
Your frail flesh, attacking your body
With painful wounds. Your lot is suffering,
While mine is sorrow. Your terrible affliction 200
Inflames my heart. I cannot escape this anxiety
Unless you speak and comfort my care.
Can you tell me how this illness will end?”
Guthlac answered back slowly—his breath
Was short. A bitter bone-killer assailed him, 205
But he spoke bravely to his beloved servant:
“A terrible pain has taken hold of me
In the dark of night, burdening my body,
Unlocking my bone-house. Some illness
Creeps in, clutching at my heavy heart. 210
The house of my soul, this carcass to come,
This frail flesh, these coverings of clay,
Are bound for a bed of earth, a grave
Resting place. My hour draws near.
My foe is fearless and not slow to fight. 215
I can evade my enemy for seven nights,
But on the eighth, my soul must be severed
As the day dawns. Then all my time
In this world will be done. My grief will be gone,
And I will reap the reward of the righteous 220
At the knees of my Lord, a bright blessing
And the gift of grace, unending bliss
With the Lamb of God, my holy Savior.
Now my soul is yearning for its final journey.
You know death will soon sever life from limb. 225
My time of lingering here grows too long.”
Then there was much weeping and mourning.
The servant grew heart-sad when he heard
That his holy master would leave this life.
At that sudden message, that dreaded news, 230
His mind was darkened, his spirit distressed,
Because he saw his master’s soulful yearning
For his final journey. Grief seized his heart.
He suffered his passionate tears to fall
In waves. Fate could not forever keep 235
That precious treasure locked up in life,
The sacred soul of his dying master.
The saintly soul saw the grieving spirit
Of his faltering servant, so the good man,
Who was dear to God and a support to men, 240
Set about healing the young man’s heart.
He spoke with a gentle, sustaining joy,
Offering him comfort and consolation, saying:
“Put away your sadness, your mourning for me.
Though this illness eats away at me, 245
Burning my body, harrowing my heart,
I welcome the wisdom of my Master’s will
And feel no dread in this hour of death.
I fear no wasting flesh or demons’ welcome
At the gates of hell. Neither the first-born fiend 250
Nor the offspring of iniquity can justly accuse me
Of any sin or crime, any secrets of the soul,
Any fleshly shame. Those dark devils
Must abide forever in the house of flame,
The abyss of agony, in exile from the Lord. 255
In that hall of death, there is no mercy,
No light or love except for the eager embrace
Of endless fire. That is a joyless house.
Put away your sadness, my beloved son.
I am on my way to heaven’s homeland 260
And the just reward for my worldly works,
An unending joy with my eternal Lord.
There is no misery for me, beloved boy,
No bodily hardship or heart’s heaviness,
As my soul is set free to seek my Father 265
And a place in heaven with my glorious King.
I have pleased the Lord each day with my deeds,
My words and works, my spiritual mysteries.
My reward will be rich, a flawless treasure.
My heart’s desire is a home in heaven. 270
My soul strives to be set free from flesh
To find an unblemished life of bliss.
My days here hold no more pain and suffering.
My life falters, my body must fall.
I will leave my temporary, earthly home 275
To find my peace in paradise with God
Where my rich reward is untouched by time.”
Then the holy warrior, the wise hero,
Gave up words. His weary spirit
Needed rest. The heavens circled round 280
Over the homes of men. Time turned,
A strange succession of darkening nights.
That day approached when the living Lord
In human flesh and embodied form
Had climbed the cross, eternal and almighty, 285
To conquer death and redeem mankind.
He wrought the resurrection of the body
When he rose from earth at Easter time
And harrowed hell, leading a saintly host
Homeward to heaven, gathered in glory. 290
So the blessed Guthlac in that auspicious hour,
Peaceful in spirit in spite of his pain,
Marshaled all the strength in his soul
To rise up and greet his loving servant
In spite of his exhaustion and hard affliction. 295
He centered his mind on life’s holy meaning,
Meditating on mortality and God’s mercy
And made an offering to please his Lord.
From his well of wisdom and sacred knowledge,
He praised God and began to preach 300
The Gospel truth through the saving grace
Of the Holy Spirit to his beloved servant.
He spoke of sweet revelations, victory-signs
Confirming the promise and power of the Lord,
The radiance of creation, the peace of paradise, 305
So that his servant heard these holy words
And bathed in their bliss in untold ways
Never before experienced in his earthly life.
These were God’s miracles marvelously told,
An eternity opening up to his imagination, 310
A mystery made plain by this inspired teacher,
A truth beyond the mind or mouth of any man.
This spell seemed woven of angels’ words
Like ethereal threads from the Lord’s loom,
Like strands of light in an eternal web, 315
Beyond the craft or ken of mortal man.
It was a miracle that the heart of anyone
Could hold such wonder in a worldly garb,
That such power could find a place on earth,
Such wisdom wind its way into our world. 320
This was a deep way of knowing and being
Beyond human bounds that the Lord of angels,
The Savior of souls, had given to Guthlac.
Four days had passed since God’s servant Guthlac
Had grown gravely ill, enduring his affliction 325
With great courage. He felt no sorrow,
No misery of mind, no heaviness of heart,
Over the separation of his soul from his body.
Death crept up like a furtive thief,
Silent and stealthy, cruel and resolute, 330
Seeking his soul-house, the broken body.
On the seventh day since the arrows of illness
Had pierced his body, harrowed his heart,
Unlocking that treasure-chest with cunning keys,
Gut
hlac’s wise servant came again to visit 335
His master and mentor in that holy house.
He found his blessed and blameless lord,
Strong in spirit, frail in flesh, past hope,
Lying on his bed in God’s temple,
About to leave this world, his body afflicted 340
With surging pain. It was the sixth hour
At midday, the last day for holy Guthlac.
His life in flesh had found its limit.
Assailed by illness, painfully pierced
By death’s unseen arrows, he could hardly draw 345
Any breath or raise his voice to speak.
His beloved servant, sad at heart,
Mourning in mind, greeted his master
With a muted joy. He prayed that Guthlac,
The saintly preacher, through God’s power 350
Might summon speech to reveal to him
How his faith fared in the face of death,
How confident he was in the world to come
As he lay there in the looming darkness.
Guthlac spoke to his young servant, 355
One beloved man to another. The bold warrior
Could hardly breathe, saying softly:
“My dear son, the awaited hour
Is not far away for my life’s last breath.
It’s not long now till I give you my last words. 360
Hold fast to the covenant we have kept,
The words of fellowship we’ve shared in this world.”
The sad-eyed servant replied to his lord:
“I will never allow our love to languish,
Our friendship to falter or grow faint, 365
Even now in your hour of need.”
Guthlac thanked his servant and said:
“Be ready for a journey when my life and limb,
Body and soul, are finally separated.
When death arrives, depart from this house. 370
Travel to my dear sister, telling her joyfully
That I have begun my soul’s long journey
To my eternal home with God in heaven.
Tell her with these words that I denied myself
Her agreeable presence in this worldly place 375
Because I desired to see her again in paradise,
Two sibling souls together without sin
In everlasting bliss before the face of God.
Our love will be steadfast in that bright city,
And we will know happiness with a host of angels. 380
Tell her to give my bone-house back to the ground—
Let my corpse be covered with clay,
A soulless body in a house of sand.”
Then the servant’s mind was sorely troubled,
Afflicted and oppressed by his master’s words. 385
He sensed that his life-leaving was not far off,
So he urgently spoke these words to Guthlac:
“I beg you, master, most beloved of men,