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112
FROM THE EPIC FRAGMENT, JUDITH.
The Prince of glory gave her the shield of His hand in the place
Where she stood in her uttermost need of the highest Doomer's grace
To save her in peril extreme; and the Ruler of all things made,
The glorious Father in heaven, He granted the prayer she prayed,
And, because of the might of her faith, He gave her His help and his aid.
Where she stood in her uttermost need of the highest Doomer's grace
To save her in peril extreme; and the Ruler of all things made,
The glorious Father in heaven, He granted the prayer she prayed,
And, because of the might of her faith, He gave her His help and his aid.
I have heard how his word went forth, how Holofernes bad
His men to the drinking of wine, and the splendid feast he had;
The prince, he called his thanes and the shielded warriors best,
And the folk-leaders came to the mighty, all fain for the doing his hest.
And now, since the coming of Judith, three days and three nights had been,
The woman wise in her heart, and fair as the elf-folk sheen.
His men to the drinking of wine, and the splendid feast he had;
The prince, he called his thanes and the shielded warriors best,
And the folk-leaders came to the mighty, all fain for the doing his hest.
And now, since the coming of Judith, three days and three nights had been,
The woman wise in her heart, and fair as the elf-folk sheen.
They went proud-souled to the banquet, to drink of the wine out-poured
The bold shield-bearing warriors, ill fellows of that ill lord.
Oh, free along the benches, the deep bowls then they bore,
And the well-filled cups and pitchers, to the sitters along the floor.
And the death-doomed men, they took them, the strong warshield bearers,
But thereof the leader knew not, that dreadsome lord of theirs.
The bold shield-bearing warriors, ill fellows of that ill lord.
113
And the well-filled cups and pitchers, to the sitters along the floor.
And the death-doomed men, they took them, the strong warshield bearers,
But thereof the leader knew not, that dreadsome lord of theirs.
And the prince, yea, Holofernes, the giver of gold to men,
With the mirth of the wine's out-pouring was merry even then;
He laughed right noisy laughter, and loud was the din of his cheer,
And the stormy mirth that moved him afar could men-folk hear;
And the wanton one yelled in his glee, and his brain with the mead was wrought,
And he called to the benchmen oft to quit them as warriors ought.
With wine he made them drunk, he plied them with wine all day,
Till, drained of the might of men, like the stricken of death they lay.
With the mirth of the wine's out-pouring was merry even then;
He laughed right noisy laughter, and loud was the din of his cheer,
And the stormy mirth that moved him afar could men-folk hear;
And the wanton one yelled in his glee, and his brain with the mead was wrought,
And he called to the benchmen oft to quit them as warriors ought.
With wine he made them drunk, he plied them with wine all day,
Till, drained of the might of men, like the stricken of death they lay.
And so did the prince command to serve the feasters then,
Till the day was past and o'er and the dark night neared to men.
Till the day was past and o'er and the dark night neared to men.
Then he, that blending of evils, commanded her to be brought,
The blest among women-folk, to his bed with gold-work wrought.
They do the prince's hest, and forth to the guest-hall fare,
As the shield-bearers' chieftain bad, and Judith, the wise-heart, was there.
The blest among women-folk, to his bed with gold-work wrought.
They do the prince's hest, and forth to the guest-hall fare,
As the shield-bearers' chieftain bad, and Judith, the wise-heart, was there.
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And they led that lady bright to the tent wherein alway
The mighty Holofernes, Christ's foe, in his resting, lay.
A golden fly-net fair was hung round the folk-leader's bed,
That the baleful one might look on any who there should tread,
And none upon him might look, unless that it were, indeed,
His will the strong in war drew nigh for the taking of rede.
The mighty Holofernes, Christ's foe, in his resting, lay.
A golden fly-net fair was hung round the folk-leader's bed,
That the baleful one might look on any who there should tread,
And none upon him might look, unless that it were, indeed,
His will the strong in war drew nigh for the taking of rede.
They brought to his bed with speed the wise lady; the dark-souled went
To tell their lord they had fetched that holy one to his tent:
And the famous one joyed in his heart, and the ruler of cities was fain,
For he deemed of the lady to smirch her, that bright one, with foulness and stain.
Not so would the glorious Doomer, not so would he suffer it be,
The Warder of glory bestirred Him, the Ruler of victory.
To tell their lord they had fetched that holy one to his tent:
And the famous one joyed in his heart, and the ruler of cities was fain,
For he deemed of the lady to smirch her, that bright one, with foulness and stain.
Not so would the glorious Doomer, not so would he suffer it be,
The Warder of glory bestirred Him, the Ruler of victory.
Then the wanton child of the devil took, baleful, his bedward way,
Where glory and life should he lose, before the breaking of day.
He had well abode on earth his bitter ending then,
Such end as himself had wrought him, the stiff-souled leader of men,
While yet in this world he tarried, beneath the sun and the rain.
Where glory and life should he lose, before the breaking of day.
He had well abode on earth his bitter ending then,
Such end as himself had wrought him, the stiff-souled leader of men,
While yet in this world he tarried, beneath the sun and the rain.
Then the mighty one fell on the bedmdst, and drunken with wine was the king,
And reft of his understanding, and knowing not anything:
And forth from the chief's pavilion the wine-sated warriors sped,
The last time e'er they should lead him, the breaker of troth they had led,
The scourge of the seed of the chosen, to visit his rest and his bed.
And reft of his understanding, and knowing not anything:
And forth from the chief's pavilion the wine-sated warriors sped,
The last time e'er they should lead him, the breaker of troth they had led,
The scourge of the seed of the chosen, to visit his rest and his bed.
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Then brave was the handmaid of God, and rede in her heart did she take,
How best might she reave him of life, or ere the impure should awake.
Then the lady with braided hair, the handmaid of the Lord,
Her right hand drew from the sheath the keen-edged glittering sword,
And she named heaven's Keeper's name, the Saviour of all, in this word.
How best might she reave him of life, or ere the impure should awake.
Then the lady with braided hair, the handmaid of the Lord,
Her right hand drew from the sheath the keen-edged glittering sword,
And she named heaven's Keeper's name, the Saviour of all, in this word.
“O God of all created, I pray my prayer to Thee!
O Spirit of comfort! Son Almighty! I bow my knee,
For Thy mercy to me who need Thee, most glorious Trinity!
Now is my heart waxed hot, exceeding hot in me,
And my soul afflicted sore and sorrowful grievously.
Give victory, Prince of Heaven, to me, and steadfast faith,
That so with this sword I slay this dealer of wrong and death.
Oh, grant me Thy salvation, most mighty Folk-prince, Thou,
For ne'er have I needed Thy mercy with greater need than now.
Avenge, O mighty Lord, the thing whereof I wot,
Which is anger in my soul, and in my breast burns hot.”
O Spirit of comfort! Son Almighty! I bow my knee,
For Thy mercy to me who need Thee, most glorious Trinity!
Now is my heart waxed hot, exceeding hot in me,
And my soul afflicted sore and sorrowful grievously.
Give victory, Prince of Heaven, to me, and steadfast faith,
That so with this sword I slay this dealer of wrong and death.
Oh, grant me Thy salvation, most mighty Folk-prince, Thou,
For ne'er have I needed Thy mercy with greater need than now.
Avenge, O mighty Lord, the thing whereof I wot,
Which is anger in my soul, and in my breast burns hot.”
Then the Judge most High, He gave her the courage she prayed Him for,
As yet to each He giveth, who seeketh Him, as of yore,
With faith and understanding, His help for evermore.
Enlarged was the woman's soul, the holy one's hope sprang new,
And she took the heathen fast by the hair of his head, and drew
With her two hands toward her there, and greatly shamed him so,—
The accursed to overcome, to lay the baleful low.
The lady with braided locks, she struck with the hostile sword,
And she cut his neck atwain, that fierce-souled foe abhorred,
And he lay as though in a swound, deep-drunken and sorewoundèd:—
Nor yet was he reft of life, nor yet was that ill one dead;
Then strongly that lady brave, she smote with her hand once more,
And the head of the heathen dog, it rolled from him on the floor;
Dead lay the body foul; the ghost went otherwhere,
Beneath the dark of earth, to meet its damning there,
To wear the torment-bonds, by serpents wreathen round,
Held captive in burning hell, in pain for ever bound.
Nor hope can come to him, in the darkness closed and pent,
That ever he thence go forth, from the place of punishment;
But there must he dree his weird, in the dark of the serpent's lair;
Bereft of the joys of hope, he bideth for ever there.
As yet to each He giveth, who seeketh Him, as of yore,
With faith and understanding, His help for evermore.
116
And she took the heathen fast by the hair of his head, and drew
With her two hands toward her there, and greatly shamed him so,—
The accursed to overcome, to lay the baleful low.
The lady with braided locks, she struck with the hostile sword,
And she cut his neck atwain, that fierce-souled foe abhorred,
And he lay as though in a swound, deep-drunken and sorewoundèd:—
Nor yet was he reft of life, nor yet was that ill one dead;
Then strongly that lady brave, she smote with her hand once more,
And the head of the heathen dog, it rolled from him on the floor;
Dead lay the body foul; the ghost went otherwhere,
Beneath the dark of earth, to meet its damning there,
To wear the torment-bonds, by serpents wreathen round,
Held captive in burning hell, in pain for ever bound.
Nor hope can come to him, in the darkness closed and pent,
That ever he thence go forth, from the place of punishment;
But there must he dree his weird, in the dark of the serpent's lair;
Bereft of the joys of hope, he bideth for ever there.
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