A braided home where he lives alone, 210
His body surrounded by the warming sun,
His wings wound about by leafy green,
By supple stem, brightest blossom,
Sweetest scent, the best of earth’s offerings.
He perches there in peace, prepared 215
For the living fire, longing for flight.
When the gem of heaven, the summer sun,
Shines high and hot over grove and glade,
Surveying the world, illuminating shadows,
Then fate is fulfilled as the bird’s home 220
Is imbued with God’s heavenly heat.
Each herb is an incipient oven, each flower
An expectant blaze. The nest is a nascent fire.
With a sudden, sweet scent and bright flash,
Both bird and nest burst into flame. 225
The funeral pyre blazes the bird’s body,
Engulfing his heart, devouring his home.
The fierce yellow flame, savage as the sun,
Obliterates the phoenix, flesh and bone,
Melts off a multitude of years, gnaws 230
Limbs, sinews, feathers, skin into nothing.
Out of this fire of apparent unbeing,
The ashes gather into a miraculous ball,
A hope of feathers, a hint of song.
The noblest nest, the bold bird’s home, 235
Is wholly burned, his bone-case broken,
His corpse turned cold. Out of the ashes
Comes an orb like an apple or an egg,
Out of which emerges a wondrous worm
Like a small creature cracking his shell. 240
He grows in the shade like a fine fledgling,
A proud eaglet. He gobbles and groans,
Plumes and preens, gathers to a greatness,
Bright-feathered, beautifully adorned.
His flesh is revived, his form refreshed, 245
Separated from sin, resurrected, reborn.
We too are like this bird. We bring home food,
Harvest grains and heavy fruits, the reaping gifts,
Before winter’s chill or storm-wind’s blast.
We store such food to sustain ourselves, 250
When snow and frost blanket the earth,
Icing it over like a crop of cold.
Our fruit and grain were once small seeds
Sown in the ground. Then the sustaining sun
Came beckoning life in spring’s awakening, 255
Pulsing seed-skins, pulling sprouts, nurturing plants,
So that the fruit of the earth, the world’s wealth,
Would be grown again from its own seeds.
So the old bird is born anew from his own flesh.
He eats no food, no grain or fruit, except the sweet 260
Honey-dew, a long night’s nectar, a dawn-drink.
In this way the noble phoenix births himself,
Braces his new body, sustains his life,
And seeks again his old home under heaven.
When the bird boasts bright feathers again 265
Among the ashes of burnt herbs and plants,
And he can spread his renewed wings
To the wind’s blessing, then young and graceful,
He gathers up his old body’s bone-ash
And cinders that were once muscle and sinew, 270
Which the fierce blaze has turned to dust,
And begins with an artist’s skill and craft
To assemble all the crumbled bones
And reshape the burnt flesh, the rich residue
Of the funeral pyre, wrapping it all up 275
With pleasant herbs, a fragrant bundle,
Something sweet from the death-spoils.
Then a deep desire begins to draw him home,
And he seizes his own relics in his talons,
Clutching a fistful of ash within his claws, 280
Winging homeward with his blasted bones
To his sun-bright land—his life redeemed,
His body renewed, his coat of feathers recast.
So he returns to his own bright beginning,
Just as God created him, perfect in that paradise. 285
Then that brave bird buries his own ashes,
His powdered bones on the high plateau
Of his old homeland. There the sun surges
Anew for him, sings his song of living heat,
When the star-stone, the brightest of sky-gems, 290
Rises up in radiance from the eastern sea.
The bird is blessed with multitudinous hues
In his feathered breast. His head is bright
Behind with blended green and pale purple.
His tail is dusky colored with hints of crimson, 295
Cunningly studded with bright spots.
His feathered wings are white beneath.
His neck is green; his bill gleams like glass.
His eye is stunning as a jeweled stone
Set by skilled smiths, encased in gold. 300
Around his neck is a ring of sun,
A circlet of feathers, a band of brilliance.
His belly is beautiful; his crest is bold.
His lithe legs and tawny feet are overgrown
With strong scales like a bright mail-coat. 305
This bird is unique but a little like a peacock,
As the books tell us, grown great,
Strong but not sluggish, no slow glider
Through the upper air but a speedy flier,
Elegant and artful, swift and bright 310
As streaking sunlight. The eternal Lord
Is the radiant Ruler who grants that bird bliss.
When the bird departs from his nesting ground
To seek his old dwelling, his bright-hued body
Is seen by multitudes of men and women 315
On middle-earth. People flock together
From north, south, east, and west
To see God’s grace revealed in the radiance
Of that bright bird, as the true King of victories
Earlier endowed him with the noblest nature, 320
The fairest form, in that original creation.
He is the best and most beautiful of birds.
All men wonder at his shining grace,
And artists rush to catch his splendor
In storied words or shapes of stone— 325
Each trying to copy the phoenix in flight.
Then the race of birds returns from far and near,
A thriving throng. They warble praise-songs
To their noble lord, their glorious leader,
Once lost, now found, as they flock to him, 330
Surrounding him with a flying ring
Of joyful servants exulting in his return.
People watch and are moved beyond words
That the flock follows the phoenix so faithfully,
A wonder on the wing. The swarming birds 335
Celebrate the coming home of their beloved king,
Then lead their lord toward his ancient home,
That garden paradise on the high plateau,
Till their leader suddenly turns and swings away
From his feathered followers, soaring swiftly, 340
A solitary bird seeking his old homeland.
So the blessed bird survives his death-time,
Swinging back to his old beloved land.
Then the birds that followed the fair phoenix
Leave their lord, sad-hearted at their loss, 345
And fly homeward to their own native lands.
The ancient bird, now young again,
Settles into bath, branch, and sun.
Only God knows the gender of that bird,
Whether male or female. It’s an unsolved riddle 350
How the bird breeds, reforms himself,
And is so richly reborn. The blessed bird
Enjoys himself in the green groves
And sparkling springs, thriving on the plateau,
Until another thousand years have passed, 355
And he rises again to greet death and be reborn,
Awakening from the ashes of the fierce fire.
Even when the phoenix expires, he has no fear
Of dreaded death or flaming dissolution,
For he knows well that after ashes, 360
He will rise again, reborn in his former glory
Beneath the shielding sky of heaven.
The phoenix is his own dear father,
His darling son, inheritor of his bones,
Those precious relics, that sacred dust 365
That seeds itself. God granted him this gift—
That he should become again what he once was
Before death, resurrect himself from the holy fire,
Bearing himself homeward again on bright wings.
So it is that the blessed wind their way 370
Through this earthly world’s wretched exile,
Bold ones who brave the dark fires of death
To be reborn again in body and soul
And lifted up into everlasting life,
The rich reward for their good works, 375
A place in paradise, a homeland in heaven.
The bird is like those blessed servants of Christ,
The chosen ones who can change their forms
After earthly death, and through God’s aid
Find themselves reborn, remade, returned home 380
Where the heart finds its own original joy.
We have heard that God made man and woman
Through his wondrous might and settled them
In a beautiful place that we call paradise.
There they lacked no joy, no generosity, 385
No daily grace, no season’s sustenance.
They were at first willing to keep God’s word,
But an old enemy of the Lord, out of deep envy,
Offered them forbidden fruit that they foolishly ate,
The taste of bitter knowledge from that tree, 390
So they lost life and were plucked from paradise,
Sorely seduced by Satan—and all for an apple.
After that misguided meal, their dessert
Was mournful misery, a sense of separation
From themselves and God. That was no gift 395
Of love to each other or their offspring.
They were painfully punished for the tooth of crime,
Enduring God’s wrath and their own dark guilt.
Ever since that first sin, the sons of Adam
And the daughters of Eve have suffered, 400
Repeating the bitter pattern of original sin.
All men are mournful for that unmaking meal
When the serpent’s envy drove us all
Out of Eden away from God’s eternal bliss.
Satan deceived our parents in paradise, 405
So they were driven away to live in toil
In this valley of death, to build an earthly house
In place of Eden’s home. The gates of paradise
Were closed to them and the plateau hidden
Through the devil’s wiles until Christ came, 410
The King of glory, our only hope,
Who brought solace to those who were suffering,
Raising the wretched out of the abyss
When he opened heaven’s doors after harrowing hell,
Returning the righteous to their home in heaven. 415
Scholars say, and sacred writings tell us,
That this holy story of redemption and return
Is like the flight of the phoenix, when the bird
Grows wise in spirit, old in years,
And leaves his homeland to seek shelter 420
In that restoring grove. The noble bird
Builds his nest of sticks and twigs,
Plants and flowers, herbs and spices,
Waiting for the wonder, the redeeming riddle,
Of the fierce flame that transforms time 425
And the bird’s body, saving his vital spirit.
He longs for life, to be young again,
To defeat death, rise from the flames,
Fly back home again after his bath of fire,
And settle into the radiant peace of paradise, 430
That sun-bright land. Likewise our ancient parents
Left their lovely Eden, that earthly paradise,
A place of grace and glory, traveling
Into the arms of envy, the realm of exile,
Where evil enemies and unknown creatures, 435
Monsters and marauders made them suffer—
Harried and harassed, injured and oppressed them.
Yet many heeded and hewed to their Maker,
Served their holy Lord in many ways
With righteous words and virtuous deeds, 440
So their heavenly King held them in his heart.
The holy ones now gather around that tree,
Shielded from Satan and his serpentine guile,
His venomous sins, in their perilous hour.
God’s warrior weaves his own nest of glory 445
With worthy deeds and alms to the poor,
Opposes all evil, fights against feud,
Avoids enmity, and invokes his Lord’s aid.
He hastens forth in fear and awe of God,
Fleeing from vice and the powerful pull 450
Of the devil’s dark deeds, unholy desires.
He holds his Lord’s love and law in his heart,
Seeking through prayer a perfect peace,
Shunning sin, bowing humbly before God,
Dreading his judgment as a good man should, 455
Determined to offer the gift of good works.
The Lord is his shield through every season,
His righteous Judge and generous Redeemer.
So a man feathers his nest with faith
And good deeds. These are the firm fruits 460
And precious plants that the phoenix gathers
And weaves together from far and wide
Around the world and under God’s heaven
To fashion his nest as a shield against evil,
And shape a shelter against the endless 465
Wickedness of the world, the heart’s hatred.
So the warriors of God fulfill his will
Through mind and might. God grants them
Their just reward. He will weave for them
An eternal nest, a homeland for the heart, 470
Out of the herbs of their virtue and the precious plants
Of their good works because they have always loved
The Lord’s holy lore, his sacred teachings,
And have chosen faith over worldly wealth.
The soul strives for eternal bliss in heaven, 475
Not a longer life in this fleeting realm.
So a man may earn a place in paradise,
A home in heaven with the high King,
During his worldly days until the end,
When death calls, that blood-hungry warrior, 480
Armed with the weapons of age and agony,
Feud and ferocity, fiendishness and fate.
Death will seize each life, bury each body
In the earth’s embrace, separated from its soul,
Where it must molder in middle-earth, 485
Waiting for the Lord’s call and the cleansing
Fire to sweep ravening across creation.
Men and women shall be led to that last meeting
When the Lord of hosts, the King of victories,
Calls his assembly to assign judgment. 490
When the Lord and Creator, Father of angels,
Savior of souls, issues his great clarion call,
And the sound of the trumpet is suddenly heard
Throughout the land, then shall each earthly body
Arise from the dust, from the cold clutch of clay, 495
To return resurrected to righteous judgment.
Dark death shall lose dominion over the blessed.
Those who are saved shall enter into eternal life
By the grace of God, as the wicked world
So rife with sin goes up in flames. 500
Everyone shall know dread on that grim day
When the fire wolfs down all worldly wealth,
Consumes crops, gulps down dappled gold
And the hand of greed, gathers each earthly
Good up in its terrible tongues of flame, 505
And feasts on flesh and other furnishings.
In the hour of revelation, the radiance of the phoenix
Shall be made manifest, a sign to mankind,
A harbinger of hope, a reminder of resurrection,
When God shall raise all buried bodies 510
From their tombs, their earthly beds,
Gathering their limbs, sinews, bones,
Woven together again with their separated souls,
Before Christ’s knee. The Savior will shine
Like a radiant sun, the jewel of heaven, 515
On the holy ones from his high throne.
It will be well in that grim hour for those
Who can prove themselves pleasing to God.
Glad will be those resurrected in flesh,
Their reformed bodies cleansed of sin. 520
Each soul will return to its own bone-house
As the judgment flames burn high in the heavens.
That fire may be fierce to many men
Who come to judgment in mortal dread,
Both the just and the unjust. Sepulchers will open, 525
Bodies climb out, souls move back in
To their fleshly homes. Together again
On the final day, they will fear God’s doom.
The ravening fire will ravage all sinners,
But the blessed will be encircled with virtue, 530
Shielded by their own earthly good works,
Which are like the noble herbs and pleasant plants
That the phoenix uses to feather his nest
So that it bursts into flames, kindled by sun,
And the bird after burning rises into new life. 535
So good men and women dressed in flesh,
Who follow the faith and work God’s will,
Shall be young and fair, gloriously rejuvenated,
Yearning for the Lord’s mercy at that last meeting.
Then righteous souls and steadfast spirits 540
Shall raise their holy voices in hymns of praise
To God’s glory, strain upon swelling strain.
Then they will rise up, wrapped in the fragrance
Of God’s fullness, the perfume of perfection,
The gift of their goodness, the wonder of their works. 545
The Complete Old English Poems Page 53
