Andreas I

Listen. We have learned in former-days of glory-blessed heroes,
twelve under the stars, the thanes of the Lord. Their force did not fail
in the war-reckoning when banners clashed together.
Afterwards they separated as the Lord himself,
Heaven’s High-King, had assigned their lot.*
Those were illustrious men upon the earth,
bold folk-leaders on the measuring-field,
doughty warriors and battle-brave,
when shield and hand defended their crown on the harrying-field. (1-11a)

Among them was a certain Matthew who, first among the Jews,
began to write the Gospel in words with wondrous skill.
Often he had encountered stoutly the hand of slayers
in the harrying-field.* Holy God had decreed the portion for him:
out to the island of Mermedonia where they did not allow
any strangers to enjoy the prosperity of their native land. (11b-18)

That whole march-land was wound in murder,
the enemy’s deceit, the dwelling-place of men, homeland of heroes.
There was neither bite of bread nor drink of water
for Mermedonian men to enjoy. Instead they consumed blood
and skin throughout the nation, the flesh-homes of foreign-coming men.
Such was their custom:*
that they made all strangers seeking their island from outside
into meat for the meat-lacking. Such was the peaceless token
of these people, the violence of the wretched, that the enemy,
sword-grim and sad-minded, destroyed the sight of the eyes,
the head-gems, with the point of spears.
Afterwards their druids bitterly mixed together*
a frightful drink through error-craft for their victim
in order to pervert their wit, the conscience of men—
altering their mind, the heart in breast, so that their victims mourned
no longer for the joys of men,* but the heroes ravenously hungry,
exhausted, tormented by famine, would eat hay and grass instead.* (19-39)

When Matthew arrived at the city, that notorious fortress,
there was a great clamor throughout Mermedonia,
a band of the wicked, a tumult of the defiled,
after the devil’s thanes had learned of the noble one’s arrival.
Then they went against him swiftly under shield,
bristling with spears —none were late—
enraged ash-bearers towards the fight’s flame-point.* (40-47)

They bound the hands of the holy one there and fastened Matthew
by the fiend’s craft, those hell-hastening heroes.
His head’s signs* they burst with the sword’s edge.
Nevertheless he honored the guardian of the heaven’s realm
in his breast, even though he accepted the terrible drink of poison.
Blessed and resolute, Matthew with courage still
worshipped the Prince of Glory wordfully,
the heaven-kingdom’s guardian with a holy voice from his prison.
For him Christ’s praise was wound up tightly in his soul’s box.* (48-58)

Then he, weeping with wearied tears, lamented
unto his Victory-lord with sorrowful speech,
to the Lord of Men, the Giver of the People’s Good,
in a wretched voice, and he spoke in words so:
“How the strangers have prepared for me a treacherous net, a guile-chain!
Always I was on the paths, eager in heart,
ever according to your purpose; now through my sorrow
I must perform my deeds as cattle deprived of speech. (59-67)

“You alone know all thoughts, Lord of Mankind—
you know the heart in breast. If it be your will,
Prince of Glory, that I am to sleep by pledge-breaker’s swords,
the weapon’s edges, I am immediately prepared
in this exile to endure what you wish to ordain, my Lord,
Bliss-giver of Angels, Deed-origin of Hosts. (68-75)

“Give to me your mercy, Almighty God, light in this life,
lest I must, blinded in this fortress after the sword-hate,
suffer at length their scorn-speak by hateful sentence
of the blood-greedy, these malign man-harmers.
I affix my heart solely to you, guardian of middle-earth—
and with the rooted love of my soul, I wish to ask you,
Father of Angels, Bright Bestower of Fruits—
do not tally me amid your guilt-foes, the weary crime-wrights,
in the worst death, O Deemer of Hosts, upon the earth!” (76-87)

After these words came a sign of glory, holy from the heavens;
like a lucid banner into the prison cell. There it was revealed that
Holy God had effected help when the voice of the Heaven-King was heard,
curious under clouds, the eloquent noise of the famous prince.
Bright-voiced God announced cure and comfort from the battle-bold
to his retainer within the harm-coffer: (88-96)

“I give my peace to you, Matthew, under the heaven.
Do not be fearful in heart. Do not mourn in mind.
I abide with you and shall ransom you
from these limb-fetters, and all of that multitude
that dwells with you in doleful endungeonment.
For you, paradise is opened by holy powers, brightest of prosperities,
the fairest home of all weal, a hopeful and splendid home.
There you may enjoy glory and delight as long as you may live.* (97-106)

“Endure these people’s affliction! There is not much time
that the pledge-breakers, sinful through spiteful art,
will be allowed to afflict you with tormenting bonds.
I shall dispatch Andrew immediately as shelter and solace
for you in this heathen city. He shall redeem you
from this folk-hate. There is until that moment a finite number,
a space of time equal to seven and twenty counts of night
truly until you, one sorely aggrieved yet deserving of victory,
will be allowed to depart from your constraint,
from your humiliation into the hold of God.” (107-17)

Then from Matthew the Holy Helm of all beings* withdrew,
the Shaper of Angels, to his uppermost native realm—
He is by right the King, the Steadfast Steersman in any place.
Then Matthew was greatly inspired by the new voice. (118-23a)

The night-helm glided past,* swiftly slipping away.
Light came after, the rush of dawn. A multitude assembled,
heathen warriors crowded in heaps, armor ringing, spears shaking,
swollen-minded under shield-cover. They wished to prove
whether their victims, while they dwelt in that comfortless place,
remained alive in the prison, secured by chains—
and which one could soonest be deprived of spirit
according to their appointed time for eating.*
They, slaughter-greedy, had inscribed in both secret
letters and computation, the conclusion of men*
when their victims should be made into food
for the meat-lacking in that nation of men. (123b-37)

The cold-hearted cried out to their fierce leader,
one band pressing upon another—
They heeded not the right nor mercy of the Creator.
Often their thoughts were taken by the devil’s edicts in the dark shadows,*
while they entrusted themselves to his miserable might. (138-42)

Then they found the holy hero, wise-minded under the dark
enclosure, battle-strong, expecting what the Bright King,
Source-Point of Angels, wished to give.
When time was nearly passed, the stipulation of the time-mark
save for three nights, as the slaughter-wolves had inscribed it—
they thought upon breaking apart his bone-rings, quickly separating body
and soul, and at that moment distributing the fated flesh-home
to old and young, a meal and a grateful repast for men.
These greedy warriors mourned not for life*—
they did not care how the soul journeys by decree after its death-throes.
So they ordered a feast after every thirty counts of night.
There was much desire to swiftly break apart human flesh-homes
with bloody jaws for their own sustenance. (143-60)

Then God, who had established middle-earth with strong powers,
was mindful how Matthew dwelt in a strange people’s misery,
locked up with leg irons, he who had often suffered for God’s love
before the Hebrews and the Israelites—
he who had withstood strongly
the magic arts of the Jews. (161-7a)