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117
THE DREAM OF THE HOLY ROOD.
FROM THE ENGLISH OF CYNEWULF.
Go, I will tell of the best of dreams, which I dreamed at deep midnight,
When men were lying at rest. Meseemed I saw the blessed Tree,
The loveliest Tree, the Tree most good, uplift and girt with light,
And flooded with gold; and precious gems at its foot were fair to see,
And five bright stones on the shoulder-span shone out full gloriously.
When men were lying at rest. Meseemed I saw the blessed Tree,
The loveliest Tree, the Tree most good, uplift and girt with light,
And flooded with gold; and precious gems at its foot were fair to see,
And five bright stones on the shoulder-span shone out full gloriously.
All the fair angels of the Lord gazing beheld it there;
'Twas not the rood of the sin-steeped man, the cross of the ill-doer,
But holy spirits looked thereon, and men of mortal breath,
And all this mighty universe; and the Rood of victory
Was blessed, and I was deep-defiled, sin-wounded unto death.
Bedecked with royal weeds I saw it shine full splendidly,
And jewels of uncounted cost blazed on that wondrous Tree.
'Twas not the rood of the sin-steeped man, the cross of the ill-doer,
But holy spirits looked thereon, and men of mortal breath,
And all this mighty universe; and the Rood of victory
Was blessed, and I was deep-defiled, sin-wounded unto death.
Bedecked with royal weeds I saw it shine full splendidly,
And jewels of uncounted cost blazed on that wondrous Tree.
118
Yet, through the sheen of gold I saw the mourners' bitter woe;
The blood oozed out on the right first for the strife of long ago;
Stricken and smitten with grief was I, afraid for that lovely sight;
I saw the beacon set up on high, rich-robed in royal blee,
Anon all wet, defiled with blood, anon with gold most bright;
Yet still I lay, and grieving sore beheld the Healer's Tree,
Until I heard it speak with words, that Rood most good to see.
The blood oozed out on the right first for the strife of long ago;
Stricken and smitten with grief was I, afraid for that lovely sight;
I saw the beacon set up on high, rich-robed in royal blee,
Anon all wet, defiled with blood, anon with gold most bright;
Yet still I lay, and grieving sore beheld the Healer's Tree,
Until I heard it speak with words, that Rood most good to see.
“It was long ago, I mind it yet, I was hewn in the heart of the wood,
I was cut away from my standing-place; the strong foes took me there,
And wrought me for a sight and show, ordained me where I stood
To lift their evil-doers up, their law-breakers to bear.
I was cut away from my standing-place; the strong foes took me there,
And wrought me for a sight and show, ordained me where I stood
To lift their evil-doers up, their law-breakers to bear.
They bare me on their shoulders strong, upon an hill they set,
And made me fast, a many foes;
And made me fast, a many foes;
Then saw I mankind's Lord
With mighty courage hasten Him to mount on me and yet,
Though all earth shook, I durst not bend or break without His word:
Firm must I stand, nor fall and crush the gazing foes abhorred.
With mighty courage hasten Him to mount on me and yet,
Though all earth shook, I durst not bend or break without His word:
Firm must I stand, nor fall and crush the gazing foes abhorred.
Then the young Hero made Him dight; the mighty God was He;
Steadfast and very stout of heart mounted the shameful tree.
Strong-souled, in sight of many there when man He fain would free.
I trembled sore when He clasped me round, yet durst not bow or bend;
I must not fall upon the earth, but stand fast to the end.
A rood I stood, and lifted up the great King, Lord of Heaven;
I durst not stoop; they pierced me through with dark nails sharply driven;
The wounds are plain to see here yet, the open wounds that yawn,
Yet nothing nowise durst I do of scathe to any one.
They put us both to shame, us twain; I was bedrenched in blood
Shed from the spear-torn heart of Him, when His soul was gone to God.
Steadfast and very stout of heart mounted the shameful tree.
Strong-souled, in sight of many there when man He fain would free.
I trembled sore when He clasped me round, yet durst not bow or bend;
I must not fall upon the earth, but stand fast to the end.
119
I durst not stoop; they pierced me through with dark nails sharply driven;
The wounds are plain to see here yet, the open wounds that yawn,
Yet nothing nowise durst I do of scathe to any one.
They put us both to shame, us twain; I was bedrenched in blood
Shed from the spear-torn heart of Him, when His soul was gone to God.
Oh, dreadful things I saw befall upon the mount that day;
I saw the mighty God of Hosts stretched out in dreadful wise;
The darkness veiled its Maker's corpse with clouds; the shades did weigh
The bright light down with evil weight, all wan beneath the skies.
I saw the mighty God of Hosts stretched out in dreadful wise;
The darkness veiled its Maker's corpse with clouds; the shades did weigh
The bright light down with evil weight, all wan beneath the skies.
Then did the whole creation weep, and the King's death bemoan;
Christ was upon the rood.
Christ was upon the rood.
But yet, unto the Royal One,
Came strong ones from afar; I saw; afflicted sore was I,
Yet bowed me to their faithful hands, humbly with courage high.
Came strong ones from afar; I saw; afflicted sore was I,
Yet bowed me to their faithful hands, humbly with courage high.
They lifted up the Almighty God after that torment dread;
They left me standing drenched with gore, with arrows sore wounded;
They laid down the limb-weary One and stood about His head;
Gazed on Heaven's Lord, Who, weary now, after that mighty fight,
Rested Him there a little while; then, in the murderers' sight,
The men began to make His tomb, of white stone carved it fair,
And laid the Lord of Victory within the sepulchre.
Then sang they sorrow-songs for Him, mourners at eventide,
When, weary, they were fain to go from the great Prince's side;
There did the mighty Lord of Hosts with never a host abide.
They left me standing drenched with gore, with arrows sore wounded;
They laid down the limb-weary One and stood about His head;
Gazed on Heaven's Lord, Who, weary now, after that mighty fight,
Rested Him there a little while; then, in the murderers' sight,
The men began to make His tomb, of white stone carved it fair,
And laid the Lord of Victory within the sepulchre.
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When, weary, they were fain to go from the great Prince's side;
There did the mighty Lord of Hosts with never a host abide.
Yet for a space they stood there still, weeping full bitterly;
The sound of the warriors' voice went up: chill waxed that fair Body;
Then did they fell us to the earth; oh, awsome fate to dree!
In the deep pit they sunk us down; yet the Lord's servants, they
His friends, did hear of me and seek and find me on a day,
And decked with silver and with gold, in beautiful array.
The sound of the warriors' voice went up: chill waxed that fair Body;
Then did they fell us to the earth; oh, awsome fate to dree!
In the deep pit they sunk us down; yet the Lord's servants, they
His friends, did hear of me and seek and find me on a day,
And decked with silver and with gold, in beautiful array.
Now may'st thou hear the tale, O man; O lief and dear, the tale
Of that sore sorrow I have borne, sore sorrow and bitter bale.
But the time is come that, far and wide, they honour me alway,
Men, and the whole great universe, and at this beacon pray.
On me God's Son His anguish took, so, glorious, towering free,
I stand 'neath heaven and heal who know the sacred awe of me.
Once I was sorest pine and shame, sharpest and bitterest then,
Ere I had opened life's true way unto the sons of men.”
Of that sore sorrow I have borne, sore sorrow and bitter bale.
But the time is come that, far and wide, they honour me alway,
Men, and the whole great universe, and at this beacon pray.
On me God's Son His anguish took, so, glorious, towering free,
I stand 'neath heaven and heal who know the sacred awe of me.
Once I was sorest pine and shame, sharpest and bitterest then,
Ere I had opened life's true way unto the sons of men.”
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