Andreas Translation

About the Poem

2008-05-17T12:05:00.000-07:00

Andreas is the first poetic text in the Vercelli Book (fol. 29b-52b), a late tenth-century compendium, which consists of mostly prose homilies with six poems mixed in throughout: Andreas, "The Fate of the Apostles," Elene (both believed to be written by Cynewulf), "The Dream of the Rood," "Soul and Body I" and one other poetic fragment. The volume is located in Vercelli, Italy, and so far been a matter of speculation about how or why this volume arrived at that place.

Andreas is the story of St. Andrew's mission to save St. Matthew from being eaten by the cannibalistic Mermedonians, who dwell on an island far away from Achaia (Greece). The Mermedonians make elaborate preparations to consume their victims: blinding them, forcing them to drink a potion that deprives their victims of reason, and locking them in a prison for thirty days. St. Matthew is captured as soon as he arrives in Mermedonia, but is delivered from blindness and insanity through divine intervention. God promises Matthew will be delivered from his bonds and Andrew is sent from Greece.

Poetically, Andreas is a remarkable text, notable both for what seems to be a widespread practice of quotation from earlier poems, as well as (and perhaps paradoxically) a powerfully unique poetic vocabulary and frequently hair-raising moments of descriptive and narrative power.

For more information on the poetic problems of Andreas, and what I wanted to communicate in the translation, please consult this post from the ASNPP main page.

This translation, as well as the Anglo-Saxon Narrative Poetry Project and its affiliated works, are copyrighted by Aaron Hostetter, and may not be published or reproduced on any other website without my express permission. Citation for scholarly review or critique, or other uses covered by the idea of fair use, are allowed, but since this work is in progress, you should ask me first for the most up-to-date version.

If you are teaching and wish to direct your students to my pages or use parts of my translation in the class, please contact me, and then send me comments on how it worked or didn't work or other pedagogical comments that will help me shape and perfect the poems.

I welcome and encourage all constructive criticism, and urge you to contact me if you find anything erroneous or improperly cited. Thank you.

Andreas I

2008-05-13T17:43:00.002-07:00

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)

Andreas II

2008-05-13T17:43:00.001-07:00

Then from heaven a voice was heard in Achaia, where the holy
man Andrew was instructing the people in the life’s way,
when the King’s Glory, the Creator of Mankind, the Lord of Hosts,
unlocked his mind-hoard to Andrew,
decision-bold, and said thus in words: (167b-73)

“You must travel, bearing your peace,
to seek out a journey where the self-eaters*
defend their domain and hold their homeland
through murder-craft. Such is the custom of that multitude
that they do not wish that any unkindred men
be granted their lives in that folk-land,
after the malicious discover the miserable in Mermedonia.
Killed by wretched men, a life-parting must follow.
There I know your victory-brother to languish, in fast bounds
amid those citizens. There are now but three nights until Matthew
must yield up his soul to the spear’s grip for the sake of the hand-strife
of heathens, unless you, ready to depart, should come before.” (174-88)

At once, Andrew gave him answer: “How can I, my Lord,
accomplish this so hastily across the deep waters,
upon the far-flung wave, before that moment,
O Heaven-shaper and Wielder of Glory,
as your word instructs? That an angel can easily travel,
holy from the heavens, the course of waters known to him,
the salty sea-streams and the swan-road,
the struggle of surf and the water-terrors, the ways over the wide-lands.
There are no friends known to me there, these strange nobles—
I do not know the thoughts of those men,
nor are the troop-roads over cold water familiar to me.” (189-201)

Then the Lord Eternal answered him: “Alas, Andrew,
that you would ever be sluggish to the journey’s path!*
There is nothing difficult for the All-wielding God
upon the earth-ways, so that that city, the king-throne renowned,
with all its inhabitants, could be planted into this very land
under the course of heaven—if the Owner of Glory decreed it in word.
You may not be slow to this journey, nor feeble in your wits,
unless you truly conceive contrary to your Sovereign,
and His true token. Be ready at the proper time—
there can be no delay of this errand!
You must then set out on a journey,
bearing your spirit into the grip of furious men,
where a war-struggle will be offered to you
through the rushing crash of battle,
through the war-craft of warriors.
You must mount a ship by necessity with the dawn,
even at next morrow, at the seashore—and on the cold water,
burst forth over the bath-way. Have my blessing across
my middle-earth wherever you go!” (202-24)

Then the Holy Holder and Wielder, the Source of High Angels
and the Guardian of Middle-earth departed from him,
and sought his own country, that renowned home,
where the souls of the sooth-fast can brook life
after their bodies are gone. (225-9)

When the message was declared to the champion of noble cities,
Andrew had no timorous mind, but was resolute
for valiant deeds, firm and stout-hearted—not at all battle-slow—
but readied by war for the contest of God.
Then he himself departed at dawn in the earliest morn,
across the sandy dunes to the sea’s shore, bold in mind,
and with his thanes, walking upon the sand.
The spear-waves resounded, beating the brim-streams.
The warrior was hopeful after he discovered
on the shore a ship, broad-bosomed and high-spirited. (230-41a)

Then came the morning-shine, brightest of beacons
over the water, holy from the gloaming.
The candle of heaven gleamed over the sea-floods.
Andrew found there the ship-wards, proud and glorious men,
three thanes sitting in their sea-boat,
such as they had come in over the sea.
That was the Lord himself, the Wielder of Multitudes,
the Eternal Almighty, with two of his angels.
They were in the raiment of seafarers—
nobles in wave-sailors’ guise who bounce upon the water’s embrace
across the distant wave in ships upon the cold water. (241b-53)

Then Andrew, elated, greeted them and spoke, standing on gravel,
ready upon the strand: “Whence do you come, sailing by ship,
skillful men, upon the sea-rusher, a lone water-float?
Whence has the water-stream over the rocking waves brought you?” (254-9)

In such a way that Andrew, there upon the shore, realized not
with whom, among those conversing, he spoke,
the Almighty God then answered him:
“From the nation of Mermedonia we have traveled far.
A high-prowed ship has borne us on the whale-road,
the swift ocean-horse, quickly encircled with water,
until we reached this land of men,
driven by the sea as the wind compelled us to do.” (260-9)

Humble Andrew then replied: “Although I can give you few rings,
or treasure-worthy things, I wish to ask you to bring us
aboard that steep vessel, that beaked ship,
and over the whale’s home to that same nation.
There will be reward for you with God
if you are gracious to us on this road.” (270-6)

Soon from the wave-ship the Helm of Princes, Shaper of Angels,
answered him: “Wide-faring men cannot dwell there,
nor can strangers enjoy the land, but in that city
they suffer the killing, the foreigners that bear their life to that place—
and now you ask to venture across the wide sea
so that you might spill your life out in this feud?” (277-84)

Then Andrew gave rejoinder:
“Desire whets us to that nation’s borders, a great hope
of mind, to that notorious city, dearest lord, if you
make known your mercy for us upon the ocean-flood.” (285-9)

The Prince of Angels, the Savior of Men, replied from the ship’s prow:
“We will ferry you with us across the fish’s bath
freely and gladly, even to that land that desire urges you
seek, after you have given your fare, a price appointed
as the ship-wards, my men upon the wave-board,
would wish to be given.” (290-8)

Swiftly then Andrew, friend-wanting, wordfully spoke to him:
“I have no ornamented gold nor money-treasure—
nothing of wealth nor sustenance nor woven wire broaches,
lands nor locked rings, that I can provide your desire,
your wishes in this world, as you have said in word.” (299-304)

Then the Lord of Warriors, where he sat on the gangway, addressed
Andrew over the tossing of the shore: “How does it happen,
dearest friend, that you should wish to venture
to the mountainous sea, to test the measure of the sea-currents,
deprived of wealth, seeking a ship across the cold cliffs?
You have nothing to comfort you on the ocean-street,
no bite of bread nor pure drink as befits you.
Is that a fruitful custom for them that know the long sea-way?” (305-14)

The Andrew, sage in his senses, unlocked his word-hoard
as an answer for the sailor: “It behooves you not,
whom the Lord has given money and meals and worldly success,
that you should now answer with arrogance,
attack us with sarcasm. It is more proper for every man
that he recognizes, humbly and certainly,
the man eager to depart, as Christ commanded it,
the Glory-fast Prince. We are his thanes, chosen as his champions.
He is by rights the King, Sovereign and Craftsman of the Glory Majestic,
One Eternal God of All Creation, so he grasps all things by single skill,
heaven and earth, through Holy Might, best of victories. (315-29a)

He said that himself, the Father of All Folk, and he ordered us
to travel through the spacious earth and gather souls, saying:

‘Travel now throughout the earth’s every corner,
even so wide as the water contains or the fixed plains
lie down as a street. Proclaim through the cities
the bright belief across the embracing earth.
I hold my peace for you. You will need to bring no ornaments
on that journey, neither gold nor silver:
I will provide you a bounty of every sort of good,
each according to your own wish.’ (329b-39)

“Now you, a thoughtful one yourself, can hear of our journey.
I must swiftly know what you would do to benefit us.” (340-2)

The Eternal Lord answered him then: “If you are the thanes of the one
that heaved up glory across middle-earth, as you tell me,
holding what the holy one has commanded you,
then I will carry you with joy
across the sea-currents,
as you have requested.” (343-48)

Andreas III

2008-05-13T17:42:00.001-07:00

When the brave-spirited mounted into the ship, eager to depart,
the mind of each was blessed upon the mere-flood.
Then Andrew began to beg the Chief of Glory for mercy
for the sea-farers over the waves’ toss, and spoke in words thus:
“May the Lord give you glory magnificent, your wishes
in this world and in the fruit of glory, the Maker of Man-kind,
as you have made your peace known to me on this voyage!” (349-58)

He sat himself then near the Holy Helm-ward, noble by noble.
I have never heard a more comely ship laden with such high-treasures.
The heroes sat therein, glorious princes and proud thanes.
Then the Prince of Dominion spoke, the Almighty Eternal,
and ordered his angel, the famous kin-servant, to go and give
foodstuffs to those destitute of comfort so that they could
the more easily endure their condition over the welling waves. (359-69a)

Then the whale-mere became vexed and agitated.
The garfish sported gladly through the spear-waves
and the gull reeled grey and carrion-greedy.
The weather-candle was obscured.
Winds swelled. Waves ground together.
Currents were stirred. The rigging creaked and the tackle was soaked.
Water-terror stood in the strength of its violence.
The thanes became timid-hearted upon the sea-currents—
none of those who had sought this ship with Andrew believed
that he would ever regain the land still living. They did not yet
know who guided that sea-floater upon the sea. (369b-81)

Then the holy one on the sea-path, Andrew, still
a prince-loyal thane then, spoke thanks over the oar-blending
to him, the counselor to kingdoms, when he was fed:
“May the Truth-fast Creator, the Life’s Light-origin,
the Wielder of Hosts, make recompense unto you
for this provender and give you food, heavenly bread
as you have revealed your friendship in peace to me
over these mountainous waves. Now my servants,
these young battle-warriors, are afflicted. The spear-waves,
the steaming ocean, are roaring. The sea floor is troubled,
the deeps disturbed, the multitude perturbed,
the power of proud men is much oppressed.” (382-95)

The Shaper of Heroes replied to him from the helm:
“Now let our float ferry you to dry land,
the ship over the sea-fastness, and then bid
your servants to alight onto the earth until your soon return.” (396-400)

At once, those earls gave him answer, those thanes
toil-enduring, saying that they would not suffer to abandon
their beloved teacher at the ship’s stem, and choose the land
for themselves. They said: “Where would we turn,
lordless, sad-minded, starved for good, wounded by our sins,
if we should desert you? We would be hated in every land,
vile to every people, whenever the sons of man, courage-bold,
hold council and discuss which of them always attended
their lord the best in battle, suffering straits on the war-plain
when shield and hand are ground down by swords in the spite-play.” (401-14)

Then the Prince of Realms spoke, the pledge-fast King,
and heaved up a word at once: “If you are the thanes
of He that Sits in Majesty, the Glory-King,
as your word claims, then recite those mysteries,
how he instructed the speech-bearers under the lofty sky.
Long is the journey-path across the fallow waves:
comfort your servants in their hearts. There is now a great distance
yet to go over the ocean-stream—the land is so far to seek.
The sands are churned up, the ground with grit.
God can easily effect help for sea-farers.” (415-26)

Then Andrew wisely began to strengthen his disciples with words,
his glory-speeding men: “When you all mounted upon the sea,
you were mindful that you would conduct your life to a hostile people,
and for the love of the Lord might suffer death,
giving up your souls in the homeland of wholly evil men.*
I myself know that the Shaper of Angels shields us,
the Lord of Armies. Compelled and rebuked by the Might-king,
these water-terrors, the tossing ocean, must become more gentle. (427-37)

“So it happened once upon a time, that the Disciples ventured
a ford over the surging strife in a sea-boat.
The water-ways seemed horrible and fearsome:
water-streams beat the shore-boards;
the sea-water often answered back, wave upon wave.
Sometimes the terrors stood up from the ocean’s bosom
over the wave-ship, into the breast of the boat. (438-44a)

“The Almighty, the Maker of Man-kind bright in the sea-rusher,
expected this. The warriors were fearful in their hearts,
desiring peace, mercies for the famous one.
When the watery multitude began chatter upon the ship,
the king soon arose, the Blessing-giver of Angels,
and quieted the waves, the welling of the water.
The winds were chastened, the sea subsided, the boundaries
of the ocean-currents became tranquil again.
Then our hearts laughed since we had seen the wind and waves
under heaven’s circuit and the terror of the deep grow afraid
for fear of the Lord. Therefore I wish to say to you as truth:
the living god will never abandon an earl upon the earth,
if his courage avails.” (444b-60)

Thus sounded the holy champion, mindful of his servants.
The blessed warrior taught his thanes; he strengthened his men
until forthwith they were bested by sleep, exhausted beside the mast.
The sea-storm abated; the endeavors of the waves, the tempest’s
sea-violence soon was transformed. Then Andrew’s spirit became
gladdened by the holy one, after that terror-spell. (461-8)

Then he began to speak, keen of counsels, wise in his wits,
to unfasten his word-chest: “It strikes me that I have never
met a better sea-farer, a robust rower more counsel-prudent,
nor more learned in his speech. Now I would like to ask you
one further favor as a nobleman un-notorious, even though
I am light in rings and golden riches, of things treasure-worthy
that I can give you. I wish to obtain your good friendship,
glory-fast prince, if I might. Afterwards you will get a share
of holy joy in heavenly majesty if you are generous with your lore
to those sea-weary ones. I want to discover one skill from you,
royal-famed hero, that you might teach me the power and glory—
such as the King, the Shaper of Men has given you—
how you direct the swimming power of this wave-floater,
this sea-horse drenched by the sea. (469-88)

“It chanced that I have been some sixteen times, now and again,
on a sea-boat, with hands stirring the frozen ocean,* the water-currents.
This time is once more. Thus I have never seen any man,
no might-born hero the likes of you, no steersman over the stern.
The tide-swell roars, it beats the shore-boards.
This boat is so well equipped;* it fares foamy-necked,
very much like a bird, gliding on the ocean. I know for certain
that I have never seen such proficiency at sail-going
across the wave-trail. It is almost like the ship stood still on land,
where the storm nor the wind can shake it,
nor the floodwaters break its sword-shining-prow—
yet the ship speeds on the sea, swift under sail. (489-505a)

“You are young yourself, a haven for war-faring men
—not at all advanced in winters—
yet you, sea-tossed, have in your soul the answer of a noble man.
You know the wise sense of every word for this world.” (505b-9)

To him replied the Eternal Lord: “Often it occurs
that we are on the sea-way in ships among sailors,
when a storm comes, breaking across the bath-way, in watery horses.*
At times it goes laboriously with us among the waves,
upon the sea, though we escape and continue the terrible passage.
The flood-welling cannot hinder at once any men contrary to the grace
of the Maker: but he binds for himself the power of life,
just as He binds the waters and compels and rebukes the brown waves.
He must rule rightfully, he that heaved up the heavens and affixed
them with his own hands; that shaped and supported
the bright bounty-home filled with glory, thus was blessed
the homeland of angels through his sole might.” (510-25)

Therefore it is an evident and manifest truth,
known and understood, that you, Andrew, are the King’s own
pious servant, of He That Sits in Glory, because the sea-mound,
the course of the spear-waves, immediately recognized you,
that you held the favor of the Holy Ghost. The sea soon
retreated, the blending of the oar-waves. The terror was stilled,
the broad-bosomed wave.* The ford-waters were calmed
after they understood that God, who by strong power
established the gift of glory, was wound up in you.” (526-36)

Then the brave-souled champion exclaimed in a holy voice,
honoring the King, the Wielder of Glory, and thus spoke in words:
“Be blessed, Hero of Man-kind, Delivering Lord!
Ever shall your fame live! Both near and far is your holy name
beautified in glory across the human-nations, celebrated
for your mercies. There is no man under the heaven-vault,
none of the race of heroes, who could relate or may know
the count of how gloriously you deal out your favor,
Prince of Nations, Spiritual Savior. Indeed it is apparent,
Preserver of Souls, that you have honored this young man
with such gifts, so he would be so loyal in his youth and wise
in his wits and word-sayings. I have never met among his
even-elders one more wise in his heart’s understanding.” (537-54)

Then from the ship spoke the Glory of Kings to Andrew,
the Beginning and the End and boldly asked:
“Say, thane wise in thought, if you know,
how it happened that among doubting men,
those men wicked in deceitful thought,
the people of Judea heaved up harmful speech
against the Son of God. There men not unwicked—
angry and sad-minded—did not believe in their own Life-start,
that he was God, even though he made known many
wonders to the people, quite evident and manifest.
The sinning could not recognize the king-born,
he who was conceived as shelter and comfort to the race of men,
to all earth-dwellers. The noble one increased in word and wisdom,
but praise-holding, he always revealed openly no small deal
of those wonders to those pride-eaten people.” (555-71)

Andrew then gave him a reply: “How could it happen
in a human nation that you have not heard of the Savior’s power,
dearest of men, how he made known his gift throughout the wide world,
the child of the Sovereign? He gave the mute speech, the deaf hearing,
the blind sight; he made the spirits of the lame and the leprous
rejoice; those that had long been limb-sick, weary, weak of health,
bound in torments, throughout the cities. So he awoke
with a word many of the various kindred of men from death
in the ground-way. Likewise he, kingly-famous, also made known
many miracles through the power of his art.
He consecrated for his war-band wine from water
and ordered it to change into a better sort, to bring his men joy.
Likewise, he fed from two fishes and five loaves
five thousand of the kindred of men.
The walking troop sat down, sad-minded, united at rest,
weary after the wandering, and received this meal,
men upon the earth, as was most agreeable to them. (572-94)

“Now you can hear, dearest young man,
how the Guardian of Glory showed us love with words
and deeds in this life, and through his teaching
urged us toward that joyous glory, that place
where at liberty and blessed with the angels,
those that seek the Lord after death can occupy.” (595-600)

Andreas IV

2008-05-13T17:41:00.000-07:00

Then the Ward of the Way further unlocked his word-hoard,
the bold man upon the gangway, speaking: “Can you tell me,
so that I may know the truth, whether your Sovereign
made known the miracles, those he performed not a few times,
to comfort the people, openly upon the earth, where bishops
and scholars and elder-men sat conversing at council?
It seems to me that they for their envy plotted wickedness
by their profound heresy. These heroes listened too eagerly
to the devil’s instruction, to the wrathful pledge-breaker.
Their fate betrayed them, seduced them and perverted them.
Now they must quickly, wearied amongst the weary,
endure wrack, a bitter burning in the slayer’s bosom.” (601-16)

Then Andrew made reply: “I tell you truly that Christ very often
performed miracle after miracle openly for the counselors
of the people in the sight of men, just as the Lord of men
performed the people’s good in secret, so intending peace.” (617-22)

The Helm of Nobles answered him: “Can you, wise warrior,
powerful and valiant in mind, speak in words of the power he,
brave-minded, often revealed when he held counsel in secret
whispers with the Lord, the Ruler of the Heavens.” (623-7)

And so Andrew gave answer: “What are you asking me,
most beloved lord, in elaborate words, when you perceive
the truth of each word by the skill of the wise?” (628-31)

Then the Ward of the Way addressed him still:
“I do not ask you in detraction nor slander on the whale-road,
but so my mind may be elated, joyfully fettered
through your word’s eloquence, perpetual in its nobility.
I am not alone in that—but the heart and spirit
of every man will be joyous, consoled far or near,
who regard in their heart how that mighty one acted, the god-child
on earth. Their souls turn and seek the joys of heaven,
eager for the journey, the homeland of angels by that noble might.” (632-42)

At once Andreas gave back answer: “Now I perceive
the sense of wisdom and truth itself in you—
triumphant capability given you with miraculous skill—
the inward breast, bright in bliss flourishes from wise men—
now I wish to tell you alone of the beginning and the end,
ever as I heard that nobleman’s words and wisdom
through his own mouth in the moot of men.
Often the wide-ranging band gathered, a people immeasurable,
for the judgment of their lord, where they hearkened
to the teaching of the holy one. (643-54)

“When soon the helmet of those noble men, the bright profit-giver,
departed into another temple, there many came towards him
as he praised God, to that court of debate, hall-counselors of the wise.
Always they rejoiced, the merciful men, at the coming of the City-Warden.
So it happened once upon a time that the victory-judge
went traveling, the mighty lord. There were no more people,
of his own folk on that journey-way except
eleven struggle-tested men, tallied among the glory-blessed—
Jesus himself was the twelfth.
Then we entered into the capital city, where was timbered up
the temple of the Lord, high and horn-wide,
well-known to warriors, beautified with glory. (655-69a)

"Yet scorn-speakingly and injuriously the high priest began
to mock with hostile intent; he unfastened his hoarded coffer
and wove a quarrel. He knew in his mind that we followed
the footsteps of the true one, and we endured
by the sentence of his teaching. The high priest quickly heaved
up a hostile cry, intermingled with woe:
'Harumph! You are wretched over all men!
You wade along wide wanderings,
endure a multitude of misfortunes.
Now you heed the teachings of a stranger,
a man outside the people’s law, having no share in its blessing.
You testify for this prince, swear that you dwell every day
with the Creator’s son. But it is well-known to the people
whence this nobling’s origin is derived.
Jesus was nourished in these borders,
begotten child-young amid his relations.
Thus his father and mother are native-dwellers
named Mary and Joseph, as we have learned
by our thought. There are two others, men born in
noble brotherhood, the sons of Joseph, Simon and Jacob.' (669b-91)

“So exclaimed the counselors of warriors, a band eager
for judgment. They thought to conceal the creator’s might.
Sin, that endless evil, returned soon where it had arisen before.
Then the prince departed from that heap of thanes
from the counsel-place comforted by his powers,
the lord of multitudes, seeking an unknown land.
Through many wondrous works in the desert,
Jesus had made known that he was the king
by right over middle-earth, comforted with power,
Sovereign and Artificer of the Glorious Majesty,
One Eternal God of all Creation. He made known such
innumerable other miracles in the sight of men. (692-705)

“On a later occasion, Jesus set out with a great band
that he might stand in the temple, the Prince of Glory.
A word-utterance was raised throughout the high hall.
The sinning ones would not swallow the teaching of the holy,
though he made known so many true tokens where they could be seen.
The Lord of Victory spotted a wonder graven quite elegantly
in the likeness of his own angels on the temple wall,
splendidly adorning either side. He spoke by word:
‘This is an image of the most illustrious of angel-kind
that there is, among the citizens in that city.
Cherubim and Seraphim they are named in heavenly joys.
They stand stout-hearted before the countenance of the Eternal Lord,
praising with voices and holy songs the glory
of the Heaven-King, the Creator’s protection.
Here is hewn the shape of holy ones—through hand-power
the servants of glory are written on the wall.’ (706-26)

“Then the Lord of Armies further spoke a word,
the heaven-holy soul, before that handiwork:
‘Now I command a signal to be revealed,
a miracle to occur in this assembly of men,
that this likeness seek the earth, lovely from the wall,
and speak a word, talk in adages truthful,
through which the nobles should believe
in my lineage, what my homeland is.’ (727-34)

“And then that wonder dared not conceal the Lord’s behest
before that host, but leapt up from the wall,
the wise and ancient work, so that he stood on the earth,
stone out of stone. Its voice came thereafter,
loud through the hardness, its speech resounded,
reproaching them. The stone’s first act seemed curious
to the stiff-purposed. It instructed the priests in clear signs,
wittily it restrained them and spoke in words: (735-42)

‘You are wretched among the miserable minds,
deluded by wiles—you do not understand well,
and are troubled in mind—
You will call the child of God Eternal a man,
when he has delineated with his own hands the ground and sea,
the heaven and earth and the stormy waves,
the salty sea-currents and upper heaven. (743-49)

“This is the same All-Wielding God
that your fathers knew in former days.
He dispensed gifts to Abraham and Isaac and Jacob,
honored them with wealth, and first spoke in words
of noble Abraham’s destiny: that from his kin must be conceived
the God of Glory. That fate is open and manifest among you—
you can now see with your own eyes
the God of Victory, the Owner of Heaven.’ (750-60)

“After the host listened to these words throughout the wide hall,
all were stunned, then the eldest soon began to speak sinfully—
they did not recognize truth—they said that this was done with druid-craft,
with magical works, that that bright* stone spoke on behalf of men.
Evil flourished through the breasts of men,
burning hot malice welled in their thought,
a worm hostile to the fruit, a poison wholly harmful.
There the doubting mind was evident through harm-speech;
these men’s mis-thoughts wrapped up in murder. (761-72)

“Then the Prince ordered this glory-work to travel,
a stone onto the street from that place, and go forth,
treading the earth-way, to the green lands of Canaan,
to deliver the message of God by teaching within
that country’s borders, to command by the King’s word Abraham
and his two sons first to from their earth-grave, to lay down their land-rest
and gather up their limbs, to take up their souls and youth-hood,
to come forth into the present renewed, sage elder-prophets,
and reveal to the people which god they had acknowledged
for their might. He departed then, as the mighty Lord, the Sculptor of Men,
had inscribed him, over the marking-roads, until he arrived at Mambre,
dazzling brightly, just as the Maker had commanded him.
There the body-homes, the corpses of the high-fathers, had been
concealed for a long time. He ordered them to stand up at once,
Abraham and Isaac and the third noble called Jacob,
from the dirt into God’s destiny for them,
swiftly from the sleep that bound them.
He ordered them to gear up for the journey,
to fare at the Lord’s decree. They had to reveal
to those people who it had been at the first creation
that arranged the all-greening Earth and the Upper-Heaven,
where the Wielder was, that founded that work. (773-99)

“They dared not hinder any longer the Glory-king’s word.
Then those three wit-full witnesses treaded the border-land,
suffering their mould-home, their earth-grave, to remain open.
They wished to make known at once the Father of First-works.
Then the people became frightened with terror, wherever the noble
men praised in words the Prince of Glory. At last the Guardian of Realms
commanded them, to seek a second journey to blessed weal,
the joys of heaven, and after that to enjoy life there, far and wide, at their will. (800-9)

“Now you can hear, dearest lad, how he revealed a great number
of miracles, however mind-blinded men did not believe his own teachings.
I know many, very famous stories yet, which that man performed,
the Ruler of the Skies—these you, wise of mind-thought,
could not consider or encompass in your breast.” (810-7)

Thus the whole long day Andrew praised the teaching
of the Holy One in utterances, until sleep overcame him
suddenly on the whale-road, beside the King of Heaven. (818-21)

Andreas V

2008-05-13T17:40:00.000-07:00

Then the Dispenser of Life ordered his own angels to conduct
Andrew over the waves’ tumult, to bear the beloved man
in their bosoms across the sea-fastness with mildness
across his Father’s sea, until sleep overcame the sea-weary.
By the tossing breeze he arrived at the land of Mermedonia,
the city that the king of angels had ordained for him.
Having delivered him, then they arose,
journeying blessed on the high-path, seeking their homeland.*
They left the holy one by the war-street,
dreaming in peace under the shelter of heaven,
waiting blithely near the city-wall, near his hate-foes,
for a night’s length,* until the Lord released the day-candle
to shine brightly. The shadows abated, dark under the clouds.
Then came the breeze’s blazing, a clear heaven-light,
sparkling over the houses. (822-38)

Then Andrew awoke, resolute for the fight,
and looked upon the plain before the city-gates.
Lofty mountains and hillsides towered there,
and beyond a hoary stone,* tile-faced buildings and towers stood
and windy walls. Then that wise man recognized
that he had reached the nation of Mermedonia by journey,
just as the Father of Man-Kind himself had commanded him,
when he had assigned him this voyage.
Then he saw his disciples in the sand, battle-ready warriors,
dreaming in sleep. The war-farer at once began
to awaken them and spoke by word:
“I can tell you a plain truth, that yesterday
upon the stream of the sea, across the oar-weal,*
a nobleman ferried us. In that ship was the King of Glory,
the Wielder of human lands. I recognized his word
though he had obscured his aspect.” (839-56)

Then these young noblemen answered him
with spiritual mysteries as reply:
“We shall gladly reveal to you, Andrew, our journey,
so that you yourself can wisely understand it in your soul’s thoughts. (857-61)

“Sleep overcame us, sea-weary—
then over the welling of the waves
came angels—faring in flight, exultant in feathers,
and tore us by the soul from slumber,
with joy they ferried us, flying upon the breeze,
with joyful noises, bright and gracious. (862-8)

“They loved mildly and dwelt in praise—
there was song everlasting and the course of heaven—
a beautiful gathering of hosts and a glorious press.
The angels stood all about their homeland,
thanes about their prince, by their thousands—
they praised the Lord of Lords with sacred voices on high.
Joyous expectation was their pleasure. (869-74)

“We recognized there holy high-fathers
and no small force of martyrs, singing
praises to the Soothfast Victory-Lord,
a multitude judgment-ready. There was David
among them, the blessed warrior, Jesse’s son,
come before Christ, king of Israel. Likewise
we saw you all standing before the Son
of the Creator, twelve men all told,
eternal in your genius, glory-blessed heroes.
Holy arch-angels served you, sitting in majesty. (875-85a)

“It will be well for those heroes allowed
to brook that bliss. An ecstasy of glory was there,
a magnificence of war-faring, a noble beginning—
there was there no strife for any of them.
Banishment will be ordained and torment
revealed for him that should become the enemy
of those joys when they go hence—
they shall wander in abjection.” (885b-91)

Then was his heart’s understanding of the holy one greatly elated
in his breast, after he had heard the story of his disciples,
how God wished to esteem them so much over all men—
and the shelter of war-farers spoke by word:
“Now I have perceived, Lord God, that you were never far
upon the sea-road, Glory of Kings, when I climbed into the ship,
though on the wave-voyage I did not know how to recognize you,
Prince of Angels, Savior of Souls. Be merciful to me now
and be kind—Maker Almighty, O Bright King!
I spoke many a word upon the salt-stream, and afterwards,
now I know who ferried me over the floods in a wooden ship with honors.
That one is the Spirit, the Comfort of Warrior-kind.
Help is ready there, mercy among the famous, the power
for victory will be given to everyone, those who seek him.” (892-909)

Then, at that same moment, before their eyes, the Prince revealed himself
to their view, the King of All That Lives, in the shape of a child.
Then he spoke a word, the Chief of Glory: “Hail to you, Andrew,
and your blessed band, exulting in spirit! I have held peace for you,
so that your wicked foes, these grim grief-smiths,
can not harm your soul.” (910-7)

Andrew fell to the ground then, the wise warrior wordfully
begging for peace, and asked his cherished lord:
“How I deserved it, sinning against your self,
Wielder of Men, that I could not recognize one so good,
the Savior of Souls, upon the wave-journey,
where I spoke about my Maker—
in many more words than I should have.” (918-24)

The All-wielding God answered him: “You have never
committed so a great sin as when you made refusal in Greece—
saying that you did not know how to fare on the far-waves;
that you could not enter that city—that you could not perform
the task within the time-mark of three nights*
such as I ordered you to journey across the watery strife
to accomplish. Now you know very well yourself that I can easily
support and promote any one of my friends in any land—
wherever it pleases me most. (925-35)

“Arise now swiftly, and consider this counsel at once,
blessed child, so that the bright father will honor you
with glorious gifts, skill and might, for your life’s length.
You must go into that citadel, beneath the city-locks,
where you brother is. I know Matthew is struck with sword-wounds,
your near kin set about with crafty nets. You must seek him,
release that dear one from hate of the hateful, and all the kin of men
dwelling with him, strangers in guile-chains, bound up in wickedness.
Readily there shall be remedy in this world, in the reward of glory—
such as I was telling those same men before. (936-49)

“Now you, Andrew, must venture at once into the grip
of the ferocious. Warfare is your lot, in hard sword-blows.
Your carcass shall be doled wounds, your blood shall flow
in a stream much like water. They will not be able to bestow
your spirit death, though you will suffer stripes, the blows of the sinning.
You will suffer sorely—do not let the force of the heathens move you,
their grim spear-strife, that you betray God, your Lord.
Be eager for glory always!
Let it remain you in your mind how it became renowned
to many men throughout many lands, how holy-lacking men
shamed me while I was bound with wounds.
They afflicted me with words, smote me and struck me—
the sinning could not reveal the truth by injury-speech.
Then I was stretched over the gallows, the rood reared up
among the Jews, where a certain man let out blood-sweat
from my side, gore onto the earth.
I endured many miseries upon the earth. For this,
I wanted you to establish an example with a blithe heart,
shown to these strangers. There are many in this famous city
whom you will turn toward heaven-light through my name,
although they have done many murders in days gone by.” (950-76)

Then the holy one departed from him, seeking the heavens,
the King of All Kings, that pure home, with humility upwards,
where there is mercy belonging to every man, to those that know how to find them.
Then Andrew, soul-patient and mindful, a warrior hard for battle
was improved in his courage; he went quickly into the city,
a single-minded contestant. Powerful and stout of mind,
and true to his creator, he stepped down the street, the path guiding him—
so no man could recognize him nor the sinful see him.
The Guardian of Victories had prudently concealed
the beloved folk-prince from sight inside the city with his hand.*
When noble Andrew had pressed inwards, Christ’s champion, near
to the prison, he saw a heap of heathens together, herdsmen
standing before the grated door, seven at once. Death took them all away,
they fell ingloriously—the death-rush seizing the sword-bloody warriors. (977-96a)

Then the holy one prayed to the merciful father from his inmost-thought,
praising the Heaven-King’s Majesty on high, God’s sovereignty.
The prison door buckled at once through the hand-grip of the Holy Ghost,*
and there he went in, mindful of courage, the battle-brave man.
The heathens slept, drunk in blood, reddening the death-place.
He saw Matthew in the murder-coffer, the stout-minded hero
under the shadow-lock telling his praise unto the lord,
glory for the Prince of Angels. He sat there alone,
miserable for his cares in that sorrow-house. (996b-1008)

Then Matthew saw his dear companion under the sky—
holy man saw holy man—joyful hope was restored.
Then he arose to face him and thanked God that they had ever
been allowed to see each other unscathed under the sun.
Peace was mutual between both those brothers, bliss renewed.
Each covered the other with arms, they kissed each other and embraced.
Both were beloved by Christ at heart.
Light shined around them, holy and heaven-bright.
Then his breast was welling with delights, when Andrew,
wordfully began to greet his noble and god-fearing companion
in the barred-coffer with speech, and spoke to him about the battle to come,
fighting of hostile men: “Now there will be a yearning in this folk,
heroes hither on…” (1009-24a)

[page missing from poem, containing an unknown number of lines. The MS resumes with the words “…gewyrht eardes neosan” […deed to seek out home] (given line 1025 by editors).]

After these words, the servants of glory, both brethren,
kneeled to pray, sending their prayers before the Child of God.
Thus the holy man in the harm-closure hailed his God
and asked his Savior for succor and assistance,
before their flesh perished in front of the battle-power
of the heathens, and then lead the prisoners
from their limb-fetters, out of the fastness into the Lord’s peace,
one hundred and forty-two men
all told by count, delivered from the malice—
he left none there fixed in bonds under the city’s enclosure—
and furthermore, he freed the frightened women there,
one less than fifty,* as an increase of his host.
They were glad for the journey, quickly departed—not one waited
for long inside the sorrow-house, anticipating the battle. (1026-43)

Then Matthew departed, leading the many into the care of God,
as sainted Andrew had ordered him.
He had covered the host with clouds on their desired journey,
lest the shield-haters should come shooting with a flurry of arrows,
their old foes. Then the headstrong men held council there
between them, faith-friends, before turning their two ways.
Either of those earls confirmed the hope for the heavenly-realm
in the other, and wordfully warded away the torments of hell.
So these war-farers, heroes stout-minded, proven champions,
honored the King with holy voices, the Wielder of Fate,
whose glory at the End of Time
will never be grasped by men.* (1044-57)

Andreas VI

2008-05-13T17:39:00.000-07:00

Then Andrew turned back into the city, to a place where he had learned
would be a moot of the fierce, folk-muster of hostile men,
going glad-minded until he encountered by the border-road
a brazen column standing near the street. Then he sat himself
beside its base—he had pure love, an eternal high-thought for the bliss of angels.
Beneath the city walls, he awaited there whatever war-deeds were his lot.
Then crowds gathered from afar, the first-spears of the people.
To the pens the faithless army had come with their weapons,
those heathen battle-men, to their captives that previously
suffered under prison-shade. (1058-71)

The evil-thinkers expected and desired that they would obtain food
from the strangers ordained as their meal.
That thought sailed away, after the angry ash-bearers,
with their band, found the prison door wide open,
the hammered work unclosed and the herdsmen all dead.
Then they soon turned, unhappy, deprived of their desire,
to bear the grievous news. They said unto their people
that they did not discover any of the far-comers,
the foreign-speakers remaining there, that were alive in the prison.
Instead there the guards lay gory, lifeless in the dust,
deprived of breath, doomed flesh-houses.
Then many of the people’s leaders grew fearful
from the horrible news—abjected, sorrow-minded,
expecting famine, that pallid dinner-guest.
They knew no better counsel than to devour the departed guards
as deathly life-bread. In a single moment, all of the door-watchmen
were stirred from their deathbeds by the solemn assembly. (1072-92)

Then I heard that the people, the city-dwellers, were summoned together.
Men came to hold council, a throng of war-farers, coming on horses,
bold on their steeds, exulting in spears.
When the entire nation was gathered together at the meeting-place,
then they cast lots to decide amongst them who one among them
should first offer his life unto the others for food-taking.
They cast lots by hell-craft, reckoned between them with idolatry.
Then the lot fell evenly upon one of the good old boys,*
one noted for his wisdom, an earl of the host, in the vanguard of the reavers.
He was quickly bound after by fetter-chains, hopeless of his life. (1093-1107)

Then the courageous heart called out with sorrowful voice,
saying he would give up his own son into their power—
his young heir—in exchange for clemency to his own life.
Then they accepted this gift in order to serve him up.
The people were very desirous for food with a sorrowful mind —
there was no joy in treasure, no hope in their hoards.
They were severely oppressed by hunger, that great despoiler
tyrannized them so cruelly. Then there was many a warrior,
a war-hardy man, that burned in his breast
for that young body. The miserable sign of that battle-play
was widely known throughout the city, announced to many men
who sought for the child’s violent death, the life of the beloved
one, and took a portion for the multitude, the men and the boys. (1108-28)

The miserable boy could not find mercy, no peace among his people,
who wished his life and spirit be given to them. The wretches
had sought for strife. The edge of sword, sharp and beaten-hard,
stained by fire-marks, from the hand of harmers, must demand his life.
The deed seemed miserable to Andrew, a people-staining crime
impossible to abide — such that one so innocent of life must quickly stop it.
That folk-hate was bold and trouble-hard—
the troops trembled, proud and daring man-servants,
in their desire for murder, they wished, by any means,
to bruise the head of the boy-child, to destroy him with spears.
God defended him, holy on height, from those heathenish folk.
Andrew ordered the weapons of the men in the vanguard to melt away
completely, much like wax, lest the shield-haters, those horrid
opponents, might harm the child with their panoply of blades. (1129-48)

So he was released from that folk-hate, the young man from grief.
Thanks be to God entirely, the Lord of Lords that gives judgment
of every man, whoever wisely seeks his aid. There will always be
eternal peace ready for those who can find it. (1149-54)

Then there was a war-cry in the cities of men, an army’s loud shout.
The heralds cried out, signifying their meat-lack—they stood weary,
captives of hunger. Their horned-halls and wine-houses stood empty:
the warriors had no need for riches to enjoy in that bitter hour.
The cunning-minded sat apart in consultation,* meditating upon
their miseries. There was no joy in their homeland for them.
Then one man often asked the other: “Let no one conceal good
lore that holds it in the pith of his prudence. Now the time
is come, this threat extraordinary—there is now great need
that we listen to the words of wise-fast men!” (1155-67)

At that moment, before that multitude, a devil appeared,
dark and uncomely,* having the shape of a man.
This dispenser of murder then began to inform
against that holy man, the hell-hobbled designing malice,
and he said by word: “Here has fared over the far wave,
a certain nobleman within your city, a foreign man
who I have heard named Andrew. He cut you closely when he led
out from your pens more of man-kind than was appropriate.
Now you can easily wreak grief-deeds in reply!
Let the tracks of your weapons, iron hard-edged,
give his life-house a close shave,* his fated soul-hoard!
Go forth boldly and humiliate this foe of men!” (1168-83)

Andrew then gave the devil a response:
“Harumph! You boldly instruct these people, embolden them to battle!
You know the torment of fire, hot in hell, and still you hasten this army,
these foot-soldiers to the fight! You are guilty against God,
the Deemer of Nations. Listen you devil’s dart,
you multiply your misfortunes. The Almighty humbled you from on high,
and cast you into darkness,
where the King of Kings laid you in fetters, and ever after,
those that knew the judgment of the Lord called you Satan.” (1184-94)

Then still the depraved one exhorted the people to the fight
wordfully through the fiend’s craft: “Now you hear
the enemy of heroes, the foe who has done the greatest harm to you all.
That is Andrew, who strives with me alone with wrought words
before this host of men.” When the sign was given
to the city-dwellers, they leapt up,
with an army’s war-bold cry, crowding the war-farer
to the wall-gates, keen beneath their banners, with great
courage to the flame-point of battle, with spears and shields. (1195-1205)

Then the Lord of Hosts spoke a word, the Maker strong of might
said to his loyal servant: “You must, Andrew, perform
a courageous deed! Don’t conceal yourself from the multitude,
but set your inner thoughts fast against these strong men!
There is not much delay until the moment that the slaughter-cruel
will lay you in torments, in cold bonds. Reveal yourself,
harden your mind, confirm your heart, so that they can recognize
my power in you. Those guilty of great vice cannot—
nor will they be allowed to— bestow death unto your body-house
against my grace, even though you may suffer stripes
and wicked blows. I am dwelling with you.” (1206-18)

Andreas VII

2008-05-13T17:38:00.000-07:00

After these words a measureless host came, shameful lore-smiths
with a crowd of shield-bearers, all swollen-minded—
they swiftly bore him out and bound the hands of the holy one.
Next Andrew, the joy of noblemen, was revealed and they
could see him with their own eyes, present and triumph-eager,
there on the fruiting plain where so many craved that man,
the glory of the people. They were little aggrieved for what recompense
would come to them after. The malignant enemy ordered him
to be led across the land-shares, pulling him along from time
to time in such a way as they could find most savage.
They dragged him, daring-minded and stout-hearted,
across hill-scarps and along rocky slopes—
even as widely as where the old paths were lying,
the work of giants within their cities, streets stone-paved.
A tempest of the heathen army was reared up
throughout the city’s houses. It was no small commotion. (1219-38a)

The body of that holy man was sodden with sore wounds,
bedewed with himself, his bone-house broken.
Blood welled out in waves of hot gore*—
though he had courage unwavering within him.
That noble mind was sundered from sins even though
he was to suffer so many pains in deep wound-blows.
So he was beaten, triumph-bright, all day long until evening came.
Pain soon pervaded the warrior’s breast until the bright sun,
heaven-radiant, slid towards its setting. Then the people led their hated
adversary to prison. Regardless Andrew was dear to Christ in his mind—
the hallowed thought was light about his heart, his purpose strong. (1238b-52)

Then the holy man was beset with cunning wiles
the whole night, an earl courage-hard under the gloom-shade.
Snow bound up the earth in winter-casts. The breeze grew chilly,
hard with hail-showers, such ice and frost. White war-steppers
fastened the homeland of men, the households of the people.
The lands were frozen with cold icicles of rime.
The water’s power withered across the river-currents and ice bridged
the murky sea-road. Andrew the blithe-hearted remained bold
and trouble-fast in his consigned compulsions the winter-cold
night long, an earl un-infamous, mindful of daring.
He did not cease in his intention, trembling from this terror,
which he had earlier begun—he praised ever the Lord most glorious
and worshipped him wordfully, until the gem of glory,
heaven-bright, was unclosed. (1253-69a)

Then came a swarm of soldiers to that dark dungeon,
no small multitude passing in the noise of a slaughter-greedy host.
They ordered that the nobleman, that pledge-fast hero,
be led outside quickly into the possession of the wroth.
Then again, just as before, he was beaten with pain-blows
the length of a day. Blood welled out in waves from his liver,
throughout his bone-coffer, engulfing him in hot gore. His corse,
wearied by wounds, cared not much for their performance. (1269b-78a)

Then came a ring of cries from Andrew’s breast—a ghastly thing
fared forth, a stream welling out in a swell, and he spoke by word:
“Now see here, Lord God, my condition, good-giver of armies!
You perceive and understand the wretch-journeys of every
single man. I trust in you, my Life-Start, that you, man’s mild-hearted
savior, Almighty Eternal, will never forsake me because of your
mighty virtues, so that I, while my soul lives upon this earth,
perform so that I fail but little your loving lessons.
You are my shielder against scathing weaponry,
Eternal Origin of Blessings, for all of your creatures.
Don’t let the mankind’s bane, fault’s first-born shame
through fiend-craft nor cover in reproach those that bear your praise.” (1278b-95)

Then a loathsome spirit appeared there, an angry pledge-breaker.
That warrior preached before that war-band, a devil of hell
condemned to suffering, and said in word:
“Strike this sinful man
across the mouth, this enemy of the people!
He talks too much!” (1296-1301)

Then was the flame-point soon stirred with renewed voice.
Malice was raised up until the sun departed, gliding to its setting
under the dark earth. Night brown-black covered the steep mountains,
overshadowing them and holy Andrew was led back into his home,
bold and glory-eager in that dark hall. He had to dwell within
closed constraint the length of the night, pledge-fast, in the foul fold. (1301-10)

Then came a dire wretch, one of seven mindful of evil,
walking to the hall, an evil-lord clothed in the murk of murder,
a devil death-cruel deprived of blessings. He began then
to speak words of reproach to the sainted man.
“What were you thinking Andy, by your coming to this wrathful wold?
What is your glory? That you would be exalted in over-mind
when you humbled the idols of our gods?
Have you now assigned both land and people, all for yourself alone,
just as your teacher had? He heaved up his kingly glory,
for that was the name of Christ, across middle-earth,
while he could do so. Herod deprived him of life,
the King of Judea defeated him in combat,
bereaved him of lands and befixed him to a cross,
where he sent out his ghost upon the gallows.
So I now order my children, these powerful servants,
my disciples of war, to humiliate you.
Let the point of spears, arrows stained with venom,
dive into you, into your doomed spirit! Go forth right away,
my war-bold hardies, and vanquish his vainglory!” (1311-33)

They were cruel, rushing upon him at once with voracious
clutches. God defended him, the Steadfast Steersman, through
his strong might. Afterwards they recognized the Cross of Christ
upon Andrew’s forehead, that renowned token, and they were taken
with trembling inside—frightened, afraid and taken to flight then.
At once the elder-foe, the captive of hell, began as before to sing
a sorrow-song: “How are you become so valiant, my soldiers,
my shield-brothers, that you prospered so little?” (1334-44)

Then the wretch gave the devil answer, the first-scather, and replied
to their father: “Suddenly we are not able to inflict injury upon him,
nor death through devices. Go to him yourself! There you will
directly find battle, fearsome fighting if you dare to strive further
upon that recluse’s life. We can easily advise you better, dearest lord,
in that sword-play—before you make war and the tumult of battle boldly,
consider how you might profit in the exchange of blows.
Let us proceed at once, that we might shame him in his fast bonds,
taunt him about his wrack-journey. Have your words ready,
wholly considered, against that wretched thing!” (1345-59)

Then with a loud voice upon the mountain-road, the one afflicted
with torments spoke these words: “You, Andrew, have long
applied yourself to wretched arts! How many peoples have you
seduced and betrayed? You will assume this work for not much
longer. There are tortures ordained for you, as grim as you deserve!
Weary-hearted and abject, devoid of comforts, you must endure agony
by sore death-pains! My men are ready for war-play—they would
do anything* to take your life with their valor-deeds before too long.
Who among the kindred of men is so mighty across middle-earth
that they could release you from these bone-bonds against my will?” (1360-74)

Andrew then gave him reply: “Well, Almighty God,
Savior of Men can easily save me, who formerly fastened
you into discomfort with burning bonds! There you have been ever since,
bound up in torment, waiting in wrack, cut off from glory
after you disdained the words of the Heaven-King!
There was the start of evil—and there will be no end to your exile!
You must increase your misery for your long life.
Eternally and always, your condition will be the stronger from day to day!” (1375-85)

At that, the devil fled, who had made fierce feud against God in years past. (1386-7)

Andreas VIII

2008-05-13T17:37:00.000-07:00

Then at the last of the night a host of heathens came,
an army of the people, seeking the holy one at day-break.
They ordered him to be led out, a toil-enduring thane, for a third trip.
They wished for the mind of the courage-bold man
to be melted by need. It could not be done!
Then was their malice stirred up anew, hard and hate-cruel.
The holy man was beaten sorely, bound by chains,
driven through with scar-wounds, while the day gave light. (1388-97)

Then he sad-minded began to cry out unto God,
in a holy voice harsh from his bondage and weary-hearted wept,
speaking these words: “I have never endured a more difficult condition
beneath the heaven-vault in the service of my master,
wherever I must adjudge law of the Lord. My limbs are dislocated,
my body sorely broken, my bone-house is blood-stained,
wounds welling forth, wounded sinews blood-sweaty.
Having become so dejected among the Jews in only one day,
O Ward of Victories, Savior Lord—what did you, God That Lives,
Master of Elder-Works, call out from the cross to your Father,
the King of Glory, speaking thus: ‘I wish you ask you,
Father of Angels, Life’s Light-Origin—
why have you forsaken me?’ (1398-1413)

“And now I have had to suffer for three days these killingly cruel
tortures. I ask you, God of Armies, when will I be allowed to deliver
my spirit into your own hand, Feast-Giver of Souls.
You who commanded us through your holy word,
when you began to strengthen the twelve of us,
saying that the battle of war-eager men would not happen to us,
nor any part of our body be readily dismembered,
neither sinew nor bone would lie in our trail,
nor even a lock of our heads become lost,
if we should observe your lessons. Now my sinews are paralyzed,
my blood-sweat has been shed in drops, my hair lies scattered
across the land, curls upon the earth. Life’s severance is much
more desirable to me than this living sorrow.” (1414-28)

Then a voice answered him, the stiff-minded man,
and the words of the Glory-King resounded:
“Weep not for your exile, dearest friend—it’s not that terrible.
I will keep my peace for you; the power of my patronage
is set about you. Command and success is given to me over all things.
Many at the moot, those that honored him, on that great day
will declare that truth, that that beautiful creation,
the heaven and the earth, shall fall to ruin together
before any of these words should be frustrated,
which I begin to speak by my own mouth. (1429-40)

Look now at your own track, such as your blood has been shed
by the bloody traces of your bone-breaking and body bruising.
No more injury will they be allowed to do to you through the stroke of spears,
those that have performed the most cruel injuries.” (1441-45)

Then the cherished champion looked back upon his track,
according to the pronouncements of the Glory-King.
He saw there blossoming groves standing adorned with fruit,
where his blood had been shed before.
Then the shelter of warriors spoke a word:
“Thanks and praise be to you, Sovereign of Nations,
and glory in heaven for your long life, for you
have not forsaken me in my pain,
my Victory-Lord, estranged and alone.” (1446-54)

And so did the deed-maker praise the Lord with a sainted voice
until the clear sun, gloriously bright, went dusking toward the drink.*
Then when for the fourth time his terrible persecutors led the worthy
folk-leader into his prison-cell, they had determined to dement
the man-advisor’s mind, his thought for artifices on that dark night.
Then came the Lord God into that grated-hall, the Glory of Heroes,
and greeted his own friend wordfully and spoke comfortingly,
the Father of Man-kind, Life’s Teacher. He ordered Andrew’s body
to regain its wholeness. “You shall not suffer in humiliation the pain
of these armor-havers for much longer.” (1455-68)

Then arose Andrew from the fetters of harsh torments, valiant
in power, and said thanks to his Creator. He was whole.
His beauty was not besmirched, nor a hem from his garment rent,*
nor lock from his head, nor was there any bone broken;
there were no bloody wounds belonging to his body,
nor any injury of any kind, wetted by dreary scar-blows—
but all was soon as it had been before, through that noble might,
raising his praises and strong of his body. (1469-77)

Andreas IX

2008-05-13T17:36:00.000-07:00

Listen, I have defamed* for a while now the teaching
of the saint, the praise of what he achieved,
in the words of poetic songs; true events way beyond my capacity.
There is much to say, and a lot of reading, of what Andrew
performed in his life, according to my exemplar —
That story a man of the world must find it in his heart,
one more learned than I account myself, one who might know
all those hardships and savage battles from the beginning
that Andrew endured with courage. Nevertheless, we must
relate a few more verse-words with little stiches.* (1478-89a)

It is said of old how Andrew suffered a great number
of fierce attacks and torments in that heathen city.
He saw by the wall,* wondrously rooted beneath
the plains of time,* columns—and not small ones—
pillars standing battered by the storm,
the old work of giants. He, mighty and mind-bold,
wise and wonderfully sagacious, made conversation
with one of their number and heaved up a word: (1489b-97)

“Now, marble-stone, hear the decrees of the Creator!
Formerly all creation worshipped his face fearfully,
when the heavens and earth see the father,
with the greatest of hosts,
in middle-earth seeking mankind. (1498-1502)

“Now let currents burst forth from your base,
a river full of water—now the Almighty,
Heaven’s King, commands you to send forth
speedily onto this pride-fed* people, wide-streaming waters
as a slaughtering of men, a flowing sea! (1502-08a)

Look, you are a rich gift, a giver of gold!*
The King himself wrote upon you, the God of Glory,
the Creator of such might made known wordfully swift secrets,
and the true law signified in ten words. He gave it to Moses,
as the just held it afterwards, courageous young servants,*
his kin, god-fearing men, Joshua and Tobias.* (1508b-16)

“Now you can perceive how the King of Angels
has adorned you in former days more greatly
with gifts that any kind of gemstone.
Through his holy behest you shall swiftly reveal
if you have understood any of his words.” (1517-21)

There was then not a whit more delay in speech
when the stone sundered itself. Rushing water gushed out,
flowed over the earth. Foamy billows covered the ground
by early day, as the sea-flood increased.
A mead-service was made after the feast-day,
the armor-havers torn from their slumber.
Water seized the ground, disturbed the deep.
The multitude became terrified by fear of the flood.
Doomed they died, the young taken away by the ocean’s sortie,
by the salty waves. That was a sorrowful brewing,
a bitter beer-taking. The cup-bearers delayed not,
the attending servants. There was enough
drink immediately ready for all from the start of day. (1522-35)

The majesty of the flood increased. The men lamented,
the spear-bearers of old. It was their intention to flee away
from the fallow flood, wishing to save their lives,
seeking survival in earthen-caves, the support of high ground.
But an angel defended that place, who covered the city
then with a glittering flame, a fiery battle-tongue.
There was tempest within and a beating sea;
nor could the company of warriors survive by fleeing the fastness.
The waters swelled, the breakers crashed,
fiery sparks flew about, the deluge boiled with waves.
It was easy to find there, within the city,
those driven to sing their sorrows. Many fright-hearted people
signaled their grief and sang a death-song. (1536-49)

The terrifying holocaust was readily visible,
a dire devastation and its awful voice.
Dancing in the wind, blasts of flame encircled the walls
and the flood continued to swell. Here was human wailing
heard widely,* a wretched confusion of old men. Then one began to gather
the people; a warrior destitute, abject, sad-minded—grieving he spoke: (1550-7)

“Now you can recognize the truth for yourselves,
that perversely we have clapped in chains that stranger
in the prison, with agonizing bonds. Disaster has destroyed us,
severe and malice-cruel. That is readily apparent;
it is much better, as I account the truth,
that we release him from his bone-bonds, all of us together—
the sooner the better—and then beg the sainted one for help,
for succor and solace for ourselves. Peace after this sorrow will
be readily ours at once if we go to him now.” (1558-68)

Then this disposition in the people’s soul-close
became manifest to Andrew there where the strength
of the arrogant was humbled, the majesty of war-faring men.
The waters had enveloped it, the mountain-currents flowed over it,
the flood was hungry for it—until the swelling sea
had risen above a man’s breast, up to the shoulder.
Then the noble saint ordered the stream-course to be stilled,
the storms to sleep around the stone-hills. Keen and courage-hearted,
Andrew stepped out, leaving the prison, wise-minded
and beloved by God. Immediately, there was a path prepared for him,
cleared through the river-channel. That victory-field was peaceful—
it already was dry, the earth from the flood, wherever his foot stepped. (1569-82)

Then the city-dwellers became joyful at heart, spirit-gladdened,
when comfort after calamity arrived. The ocean subsided
through holy behest, the storm gave ear, the sea-road waited.
Next the mountain yawned open, a terrifying crack into the earth,
and the flood was allowed to be engulfed therein, the fallow waves.
The wounded earth swallowed all of the welling sea.
Andrew sent not only the water there, but also fourteen guilty folk-harmers,
the worst among their nation. They were sent shaking into destruction
by the waves, beneath the abyss of earth. Then were many people timid-hearted,
fearful in spirit, in their tracks — they expected a slaughter
of women* and men, a more wretched period of humiliating
circumstances, after the battle-players, stained
with evil and murder-guilty were cast beneath the earth. (1583-600)

Then they spoke, all of them one-minded:
“Now it is plain that the True Creator,
the King of All-Created Things, governs skillfully,
He that dispatched this messenger as help to our people.
There is much need for us to eagerly heed him,
a man chosen among men.”* (1601-6)

Andreas X

2008-05-13T17:35:00.000-07:00

Then the sainted one began to gladden the heroes,
comforting the throng of warriors wordfully:
“Do not be too fearful, although ruin has chosen
the kindred of sinners. They have suffered
death and torments as they deserve —
For you is the dazzling light of glory is revealed,
if you think rightly.” (1607-12)

Next he sent his prayer before the Child of God,
begging the Holy One to give help to the youthful men,
who had recently given up their lives in the water,
through the flood’s embrace, so that those spirits—
starved of good, deprived of glory, who had perished in agony—
would not be ferried into the rule of the Enemy.
When that message was spoken graciously to the All-wielding God,
the Chief of Nations, according to the speeches of the sainted spirit,
then the Lord commanded all the young men to arise
uninjured from the dust, those whom the ocean had earlier killed.
When they stood up hastily, the many youthful sons,
there as a group, as I have heard, then all of them were united,
body and soul, even though they had swiftly laid down
their spirit through the flood’s fear. The Mermedonians
accepted baptism and a peace-bond, the patronage of the Creator,
that each would be pledged to Glory and
be made prosperous through their punishments. (1613-32a)

Then spirited Andrew, the King’s craftsman,
ordered them to build a church, to raise a temple to God
on that very spot where the youth were raised through
the Father’s baptism and where the flood burst forth.
Then the people gathered, far and wide, into a troop of men throughout
the wine-town,* resolute nobles, and their wives among them.
They stated that they wished to follow faithfully,
promptly take on the bath of baptism, as pleases the Lord,
and forsake idolatry and the old idol-havens. (1632b-42)

Next, baptism was raised up among the people,
nobly among nobles, and God’s righteous law
and decree exalted in the land, among the city-dwellers,
and the church was consecrated. There the envoy of God
appointed one a learned man, wise of words, a bishop for those
people in that bright city, for the need of the nation, and confirmed him,
a man named Platan, before that mighty multitude
by his apostle-hood. Andrew boldly commanded them
to attend to Platan’s teaching eagerly and achieve their salvation. (1643-54a)

Andrew then declared his hastening intention,
that he wished to leave the gold-city then, the hall-joys of men
and the treasure-hoard, the bright bracelet-houses,
and wished to seek a ship for himself at the sea’s shore.
That was a hard fact for the host to endure—
that the first of their nation wished to remain no whit longer with them.
Then the God of Glory revealed himself, the Lord of Armies,
to Andrew on the journey-road, and spoke a word: (1654b-63)

“These folk, on account of their sins, their minds are eager,
but they go about groaning. They show their sorrow
to men and woman alike. Their wailing, their mourning spirit,
has come to my attention.* You must not abandon your flock
in such new joys, but edify my name in them,
securely in their soul-closures. Shelter of warriors, dwell with them
in that wine-city, their treasure-laden halls, for a space of seven nights.
After that with my grace you may depart.” (1664-74)

Then Andrew returned one more time, high-spirited,
stout of power, seeking the city of Mermedonia.
The words and wisdom of these Christians had increased,
since they had laid eyes upon Glory’s thane, the messenger
of the Worthy-King. Then he taught those people the way of belief,
and strengthened them gloriously; the measureless host
of glory-blessed men that hoped for glory,
for the holy home of Heaven’s Realm, where the Father
and the Son and Comforting Spirit in Majestic Trinity
rule the Sublime Mansions in the World of All Worlds.* (1675-86)

And so the holy man tore down the temples,
dispelled devil-worship and destroyed their errors.
That was a pain for Satan to endure—a great sorrow of mind,
that he saw that multitude, through Andrew’s gracious instruction,
turn heart-glad from their hell-houses to sweet joys,
where no Enemy or other fierce-minded spirit
will ever be found, walking by land. (1687-94)

Then were the count of days fulfilled according to the decree
of the Lord, as He had commanded that Andrew must dwell
in the weather-beaten city. Then he began to hasten himself
and get ready to sail, exulting in bliss. Andrew wished to betake
himself on a ship to Achaia a second time,
where he anticipated his soul-parting and battle-death—
That would be no laughing matter for his slayer,
instead the guilty hand, without friends, set himself
on a course into the jaws of Hell,
where there would be no comfort at all to enjoy. (1695-1705

Then I have heard that a host of people, of mournful-hearted men,
conducted their beloved teacher to the stem of the ship.
In many there was an emotion welling hot about their hearts
when they brought the quick-purposed warrior
onto the wave-plank at the sea’s headland.
They stood then upon the land’s margin lamenting after him
while they could still see him, the joy of good men,
upon the waves, across the seal-path.
And then they honored the Possessor of Glory,
crying out in chorus, and speaking thus: (1706-16)

“Almighty God is alone among of all creation!
His might and his possession is celebrated,
blessed across Middle-Earth, and his reward shines
over all holy things in heavenly majesty,
beautiful in glory for the length of life,
eternal among angels —
That is a worthy king!” (1717-22)

— Explicit

Translation notes

2008-01-26T08:58:00.000-08:00

Editions and Translations:

A handy bibliographic note for those of you playing along at home. Here is a list of all the previous editions and translations of Andreas:

Editions:

Baskerville, W. M. ed. Andreas: The Legend of St. Andrew. Boston: Ginn, 1885.
Brooks, Kenneth R., ed. Andreas and The Fates of the Apostles. Oxford: Clarendon, 1961.
Grein, Christian Wilhelm Michael, ed. Dichtungen der Angelsächsen. Cassel, Götiingen: G. H. Wigland, 1863.
Grein, Christian Wilhelm Michael, & R. P. Wülker, ed. Bibliothek der angelsächsischen Poesie, Bd. 2. Cassel, Götiingen: G. H. Wigland, 1894.
Krapp, George Phillip, ed. Andreas and The Fates of the Apostles: Two Anglo-Saxon Narrative Poems. Boston and New York: Ginn, 1906.
————, & Elliott Van Kirk Dobbie, ed. The Vercelli Book. ASPR II. New York: Columbia UP, 1932.

The ASPR text is generally the one used for on-line versions accessible at English Poetry Online (http://collections.chadwyck.com/), and is the text I've downloaded to work from while translating.

Translations:

Boenig, Robert. The Acts of Andrew in the Country of the Cannibals: Translations from the Greek, Latin, and Old English. New York: Garland, 1991. (verse)
Bradley, S. A. J. Anglo-Saxon Poetry. New York: Everyman, 1982. (prose)
Gordon, R. K. Anglo-Saxon Poetry. London: Dent and New York: Dutton, 1926. Reprinted, 1950.
Hall, J. Leslie. Judith, the Phoenix and Other Anglo-Saxon Poems. New York: Silver, Burdett & Co., 1902.
Kemble, J[ohn] M[itchell]. The Poetry of the Codex Vercellensis, part 1. The Ælfric Society: London, 1843-6.
Kennedy, Charles W. The Poems of Cynewulf. London: Routledge and New York: Dutton, 1910. (prose)
Root, Robert Kilburn. Andreas: The Legend of St. Andrew. Yale Studies in English VII. New York: Holt, 1899. (verse - iambic pentameter, no less)

I have not consulted all of these works so far, but have kept copies of Boenig, Bradley and the ASPR edition close at hand and while working. Kennedy’s excellent translation, though overly archaic in its diction, has played a more important part during later work on the translation.

Textual notes:

Notes are marked by an asterisk in the translation. Numbers in the notes refer to line numbers in the original text.

1-6: The invocation of Andreas closely resembles that of both Beowulf and “The Fates of the Apostles.” See Andy Orchard, “Both Style and Substance: The Case for Cynewulf” (In Anglo-Saxon Styles (2003), edited by Catherine Karkov and George Hardin Brown).

25b: See Beowulf 178 for a close parallel to this line. In both instances the description of a foreign people’s immoral behavior (idolatry, cannibalism) is explained, and perhaps even excused, by noting that that behavior was just a part of their customs. The behavior of the Danish invaders is also often described in this way.

33) Compare to Christ 1437: “Swylce hi me geblendon bittre tosomne.”

37) Compare to Daniel 570: “þæt þu ne gemyndgast æfter man-dreame.”

38-9) A problematic line. The presence of "hæleþ heoro-grædige" here recalls the earlier description of the Mermedonians as "hetend heoro-grim," but is deep within an account of the effect of the magical potion on the Mermedonians' victims. It does not seem appropriate that it is meant to be in apposition to the "hie" [their victims] in line 37, but rather to the "dryas" in line 34. Some translators have taken this line to mean that the Mermedonians eat hay and grass when they can't get human flesh, but I'm not sure, since their drync unheorne is meant to render their victims into the moral and physiological equivalents of cattle [see esp Matthew's lament: "nu ðurh geohða sceal / dæde fremman swa þa dumban neat" [Now through sorrows, I must perform my mission as a speechless beast] (l. 66-7). Brooks gives the best account for the reading, stating that heoro-grædige should be taken to mean "ravenously hungry" (63).

47: or-lege: Given in BT as “war, strife, hostility” or “the place where hostility is shown,” i.e. the battlefield or the front line. The kenning is composed of or “beginning” and leg, perhaps related to lig “tongue of flame,” which could be rendered as the more contemporary word “flashpoint.” I have chosen to translate it here by the phrase “the fight’s flame-point” in order to preserve both the literal image of the kenning and its resonance with battle. Or-leg appears again in lines 1146, 1205, and 1302.

50: heafdes segl: Brooks emends this to heafdes sigel or “suns of the head,” meaning Matthew’s eyes, and posits that the S-rune (sigel) might have been used in previous versions of the text, and misspelled by a later scribe. The emendation is strictly unnecessary, since the phrase heafdes segl, or “flags of the head”—meaning the sign by which the person may be recognized from afar— does make sense, even if it is a bit unconventional. Recognition of difference is a major theme of the poem, and the use of segl here resonates with the previous use of cumbol [standard] in line 4, and the author’s frequent reference to mearc [mark, border] (numerous) and tacn [sign, token] (line 88, and other places). Segl appears again at line 89, again in a context that could interpreted as sun (sigl) or signal (segl). Another close variant, sægl, appears at 1456, and seems to be incline more strongly toward sigl, but it is again unclear.

54-8: As noted by Orchard, this passage closely parallels Juliana 227-35, and the final two lines mirror Juliana’s “to carcerne. Hyre wæs Cristes lof/ in ferðlocan fæste biwunden,” making only minor changes to suit the context of the lines in Andreas. The two passages move in opposite directions: the love of God forces Juliana into [to] prison, while Matthew’s allows his voice to burst from [of] it.

64: The MS reads seoðað “boiled” here, but most editors have emended the word to seowað “sews” to fit the sense suggested by searo-net “treacherous net” or “chain-mail” and inwit-wrasen “guile-chain”. As much as I wished that the cooking word worked here, given the other food preparation in the poem — it seems that the emendation not only makes better sense given the verb’s direct objects, but it also allows a parallel with Beowulf 405: “searonet seowed smiþes orþancum” [chainmail sewn with the smith’s cunning]. The line in Andreas then, like many of its Beowulf citations, neatly inverts the sense of the earlier passage, transforming the positive connotations of Beowulf’s shiny armor to a deadly trap for the apostle.

102) This is my favorite A-S word neorxna-wang which is used fairly frequently (about 140 appearances), and is glossed by Ælfric as “Paradisum.” Except for the -wang part (“plain, field”), it is uncertain how the word is derived, nor is there any scholarly consensus on the word’s origins. Alan K. Brown, in a 1973 article, presents an (perhaps overly) ingenious solution, positing that the first part of the compound is the result of alphabetic play and riddling, consisting of a reversal of greone [green], originally spelled with the gyfu-rune (which looks like an X), and then varied through multiple copies over time (“Neorxnawang,” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 74, 610-23). The argument relies a bit heavily on the traditional narrative that literacy was a dramatic revolution of thought for the Anglo-Saxons, which I find suspect. Also, for all that to end up just meaning “green field” is something of an anticlimax.

106: See Alfred Bammesberger, “Old English ‘Willan Brucan’ in Andreas, line 106b,” N&Q 51.1 (March 2004), 3-5 for an analysis of the case of willa in this context. As a weak masculine noun, it could fill any syntactic spot one could imagine. He suggests it should be read as inst. pl., showing the -um to -an change characteristic of late OE. Brucan usually takes a genitive object, as in tyres in l. 105, and, especially by its position, willan could be read a gen. sg. in apposition to tyres.

118: æl-wihta: This word only appears twice in the extant literature, here and in Beowulf. It seems to mean something quite different in Beowulf than here.

133: This sentence is a close parallel to the Phoenix 222: “Hwæþre him eft cymeð/ æfter fyrstmearce feorh edniwe.” The two passages stand in direct contrast: the Phoenix consumes itself because it knows that the soul is renewed, while the Mermedonians consume other men, and deprive them of their souls.

135: Wera ende-stæf, a kenning that seems to combine the sense of a stick or piece of wood (which, in the Greek version, all the prisoners carry), and the idea of a verse of poetry or other writing. The line could also be translated as “they inscribed the conclusion-staff of [the] men in [with] runes and numbers.”

140-1: The language here demands sympathy for the Mermedonians as a vulnerable and fearful people. The main verb here, onwadan (3s pret. onwod) is defined by Bosworth-Toller as “1. to make way into, penetrate; 2. to enter with force, take possession of.” The word invokes physical and psychological coercion, desecration, invasion, and even rape.

154: Compare Solomon and Saturn 114-7 for a close parallel to this phrasing: “ðonne hine forcinnað ða cirican getuinnas,/ nyd (N) and os (O) samod æghwæðer brengeð/ sweopan of siðe; sargiað hwile/ fremdne flæsc-homan, feorh ne bemurnað.”

175: sylf-ætan: [coming soon!]

204: Compare to Elene 220: “þæs siðfates sæne weorðan.”

238: The word here is gar-secg, a kenning that according to Bosworth-Toller literally translates to “spear-man”, but is fairly common and used to mean “the sea” as a personification, as if of a ocean deity like Poseidon, but not necessarily so, since the waves could be perceived as a field of soldiers bearing pointed weapons. The noun secg can also mean “sword,” “sedge (grass),” or “sea” -- though it is easy to see how all four are derived from one central signification of “man” -- i.e. by metonymy, “sword” as a part of a man’s possessions; the species of grass through simile, because it has sharp blades, and “sea” (but only attested once in this sense) by dropping off the first part of the kenning through habitual use.

265: This line has sometimes been seen as an indication that Jesus is representing himself as a Mermedonian, and Andrew is further endangering his life by trusting himself to ride in Jesus’s ship (R. Boenig, “Andreas, the Eucharist, and Vercelli,” JEGP 79 (1980)). It’s an interesting idea, and perhaps enforcing the Eucharist aspects of Mermedonian cannibalism (something that will become more important around line 1093ff, when the elder offers his child to the starving mob). However, “of” should probably be read as “from” here, since that usage seems much more common, making the statement an indication of the direction of the ship’s journey.

265 (2): Marmedonia: This is the first time this name is spelled this way, which seems a prefiguring echo of the marman-stan that will ultimately drown the Mermedonians. And since that stone recalls the talking statue of Andrew’s story (716-817), it creates a triad of stones in the poem, two actual stones that can hear and obey the holy message, and the third, the Mermedonians, who are hard and unmoving as stone, and will not hear and obey until their destruction and resurrection.

320-1: Compare to Beowulf 1384-5: "Selre bið æghwæm/ þæt he his freond wrece."

332-339: This passage paraphrases Luke 10:3-10, containing Christ’s instructions to the Apostles, and closely parallels the language of Cynewulf in Christ B, as shown by Orchard (“Both Style and Substance,” pp. zzz).

432: On ælmyrcna eðelrice. This word does not appear anywhere else in the Old English corpus except here (according to the ASPR Concordance and the Dictionary the Old English Corpus). Bosworth-Toller gives the definition as "all sallow, a black man, an Ethiopian: omnino fuscus, Æthiops." There is no other citation given for the word other than Andreas. The word does not appear in the new Dictionary of Old English. The word, however, is definitely related to Exodus 53's Guð-myrce, given when the fleeing Israelites cross into unknown lands on their way out of Egypt.

A. S. G. Bradley, in his translation in Anglo-Saxon Poetry (1982), renders the word as “Ethiopians,” a decision that fits into the tradition set by most earlier editors and translators, including C. W. M. Grein, R. K. Root, George Krapp and J. Leslie Hall.

If this word truly means "Ethiopian" then the Andreas-poet has moved Mermedonia from Scythia or the Black Sea and placed it in Africa -- although it is possible that the "mirce" is related to the black in Black Sea, and the poet is playing with the two senses of darkness. Or else "-mirce" is meant to recall "mearc," a border, sign, limit, a word that has been important in Andreas already (Mermedonia is a mearc-land, they kill their victims after a fyrst-mearc passes, etc.).*

Of all modern editors Kenneth Brooks is unique in refuting this reading of æl-myrcna, claiming it is impossible for four reasons: 1) The prose versions do not include this fact, and all other times Ethiopia is used in Old English, either the Latin Æthiopia is used or else the OE Sigelhearwan or Sigelware; 2) Ethiopia is the site of Matthew’s martyrdom (FA 63ff.), but in the story of Andreas, Matthew is not martyred; 3) Mermedonia is very cold, contrary to the traditional idea of Ethiopia’s intense heat; and 4) there is no indication within the word itself that it is intended as a nonce for Ethiopia (Brooks, Andreas & The Fates of the Apostles (1961), 76-77). [Boenig renders the word as “Mermedonians,” noting that it is a traditional word for Ethiopia (83).]

This choice strikes me as a reflection of the tendency to characterize the Mermedonians according to a colonial world-view, an assumption that rises from their cannibalistic diet. The ease of the equation, however, makes me wonder at its propriety. As William Arens first argued, cannibalism has often been assumed to occur among primitive peoples, and therefore its practice is read into the actual observations of anthropologists, who never seem to see it directly, but nonetheless know it's there (The Man-Eating Myth, esp. 147). The cannibalism of the Mermedonians in Andreas becomes a not-so subtle way to read colonial entitlement back to the roots of English letters and Christian history: like our own colonial agents, the earliest civilizations waged a war against the primitive and self-consuming forces of anthropophagy. In locating Andreas against a backdrop of adventure stories and travel narratives of the English empire, the older poem is forced to parrot their racial and national ideologies.

I prefer as a straight kenning of moral, rather than geographic, character. Andreas uses mirce to mean "dark" or "evil" at 1219 and at 1314, rather than "African." I have therefore taken its meaning to be "of the all-dark, murky, or evil men" and have rendered it in the translation as "wholly evil men." This reading allows a greater sense of play within the poem, and should open up rather than close down meanings.

405-14: The reply of Andrew’s disciples is strongly suggestive of Wiglaf’s condemnation of the faithless retainers in Beowulf 2884-91, as has been often noted by critics.

490-1: mere hrerendum mundum freorig. This line is highly suggestive of “The Wanderer” and “The Seafarer.”

496: Scrid is translated by Bradley and Boenig as "fast" or "speedy." According to BT, the word is related to scryðan, "to clothe or equip" and scrud, "clothing." [See Alfred Bammesburger, "Is There an Old English Adjective Scrid ‘Swift’?" in N&Q 55(2) (April 2008): 117-9, for a note published nearly simultaneously to my own entry here (link to article here.)]

497: This line closely resembles Beowulf 218: “flota famiheals fugle gelicost.”

513: brim-hengestum. Literally “sea-horse,” this description stands in contrast to sæ-hengeste in line 489, and probably refers to the waves crashing against the ship. The paired kennings reveal an idea of evenly matched forces. Compare also the adjective wid-fæðme “broad-bosomed” in lines 240 & 534, describing both the ship and the waves.

553: The phrase æt efen-ealdum means “among his generation,” but I am interested in preserving the kenning, especially since the idea of coevality fits well into a poem that is obsessed with the problem of time, and titillated by the possibilities of different times existing at once.

668a: “Heah and horn-geap” comes straight out of Beowulf, line 82, where it describes the newly-built Heorot. The contrast is striking: the old temple is described in the same terms as the new mead-hall; the demon is outside Heorot while the devil-taught are within the temple, and an account of the Creation plays an important role in both buildings.

828: There appears to be one or more lines omitted, but no break in the MS. “had ordained for him./ Having delivered him...” is supplied to fulfill the sense that seems wanting.

834: niht-langne fyrst: Literally, “the space of a night’s length,” but shortened in a favor of a less unwieldy phrase.

841: ymbe harne stan: On the numerous connotations of this phrase, see Michael Swisher, "Beyond the Hoar Stone" (Neophilologus 86 (2002): 133-6). Swisher notes that a "hoar stone" is used a boundary marker in several Old English charters and in some place names (133). He also list several moments in the corpus where a prepositional phrase locating something in relation to a "hoar stone" can be found three times in Beowulf, all three times locating a monster's lair (Sigemund's episode, 887; Grendel's mother, 1415; and the dragon's hoard, 2744), and once in the vision of St. Paul in Blickling Homily 17 (a passage which describes a lake very much like Grendel's mother's mere, full of aquatic monsters and death). He concludes by noting that these occurrences all speak "strongly for its formulaic significance" (136). Whether supernatural or not, the presence of the phrase continues the Andreas-poet's preoccupation with boundary lines.

853: ar-welan: The idea of the kenning suggests both an abundance of oars and a realm of oars.

862-91: The disciples’ account of their heavenly dream feels in many ways like an interpolated poem, so I chose to use a different line-pattern for the translation in order to set it apart from the main body of verse.

989: mid lofe: Bosworth-Toller cites this phrase as the only occurrence of “lof” meaning something like “hand” or “protection.” The alternative would be to take lof to mean “praise, a song of praise,” which makes the sense somewhat awkward, but perhaps could work metaphorically. Sinum is the dat. or instr. sing., probably the poetic possessive pronoun sin.

1057: mid eldum ende: I supplied “of Time” in the translation, the sense of which seems clearly implied in the Anglo-Saxon.

1072: The line Wendan ond woldon wiðerhycgende is very similar to Guthlac A 663-5: “Wendun ge ond woldun, wiþer-hycgende/ þæt ge scyppende sceoldan gelice/ wesan in wuldre” [You believed and desired, you evil-thinkers, that you must be like the Shaper in Glory].

1104: eald-gesiða: Literally, an “old companion,” there seems to be something familiar about the kenning, and I thought I’d try something a bit cheeky.

1161: sundor to rune: Recalls the wise man in the final lines of the Wanderer: “Swa cwæð snottor on mode, gesæt him sundor æt rune” (111). The image perhaps extends the implications of the Mermedonians’ literacy suggested in line 134 “Hæfdon hie on rune ond on rim-cræfte/ awriten.”

1169: wann ond wlite-leas: This description of the devil sounds very much like a parody of the Song of Songs 1:5 “Nigra sum sed formosa.”

1181: ealdor-geard sceoran: The verb sceoran [cognate to Mod.E. shear and share], connotes both cutting and shaving, as well as shearing. It seems appropriate that the devil should speak comically, although this is a bit more broad than the ironic understatement of his previous sentence.

1240: This line closely resembles Beowulf 742: “bat ban-locan, blod eðrum dranc” [he bit the bone-locks and drank blood from his veins], which depicts Grendel eating Hondscio. Here, Andrew is tormented by the Mermedonians. Considering the numerous other quotations and parallels to Beowulf throughout the poem, it seems odd to me that this line should read yðum, “in waves” rather than eðrum, “from his veins.” Perhaps it is actually an error, but it has been allowed to stand since it is a reading that makes sense, and is repeated at 1275.

1425: This last episode features three occurrences of an internal rhyme in fairly close proximity (1380: wunne/blunne; 1404: tolocen/gebrocen; 1425: toslopen/adropen), which I have not yet devised a way to preserve in the translation.

1456-7: oððæt hador sægl/ wuldor-torht gewat under waðu scriðan: Bradley translates this line as “until the clear gloriously radiant sun went slipping beneath the waves” (147); and Boenig renders it as “until the bright sun, / the glory-torch, began to glide under the waves” (113). Either seems to be taking waðu as a form of waðuma, -an, m., meaning “moving water, wave, flood”; a form that appears in line 1280. Wað has appeared previously as well in Andreas, at line 593 “werige æfter waðe” where the word definitely means “a wandering, journey.” Perhaps the word is a form of wæt, -es, n. meaning “liquid, water” or “liquor, drink,” showing a softening of the final -t into an -ð. Referring to the waves as “the drink” here might be too colloquial, but it anticipates nicely the liquor-water flood of 1522-38. Scriðan connotes gliding motion, particularly of the motion of heavenly bodies, the opening or closing of day, and the movement of time -- hence the nonce word, “dusking.”

1478-80: Hwæt, ic…wordum wemde: Perhaps an untranslatable pun between weman “to announce, persuade, entice” and wemman “to defile, besmirch” (both are weak verbs). Kennedy renders it as “singing” and Bradley as “proclaiming.” BT uses this line as an example for wemman, translating it as “I have not given a good account of the saint.” Repeated from line 740, where it is used to describe the animated statue speaking.

1493: sæl-wange: Brooks retains Krapp’s emendation of under sælwage, dropping the “n” present in the original. His rationale is that the prose versions of the story all tell of a statue atop a pillar within Andrew’s cell (Brooks, 113), for example the version in found in Cambridge University Corpus Christi College MS 198, and edited in Bright’s Old English Reader, reads: “Se haliga Andreas þa lociende, he geseah on middum þæm carcerne swer standan, and ofer þone swer stænenne anlicnesse” [The holy Andrew then looking [around him], he saw a pillar standing in the middle of his prison-cell, and over that pillar a statue of stone] (p. 216). While this is true, and unfortunate, I have a problem with the contradiction this emendation creates with the next line’s “storme bedrifene” [battered by the weather], a condition difficult to attain by stones kept indoors. Since the text provides a reading that is consistent with the terms of its own description, it seems unnecessary to create an internal inconsistency in order to accord with external sources.

1515a: modige mago-þegnas: This same phrase was used to describe the Mermedonians in line 1142.

1516: The invocation of Moses, Joshua and Tobias here creates a triumvirate of Biblical personages to match the Abraham, Isaac and Jacob of ll. 793-4, who, according to Andrew’s story, were raised from the dead by the talking statue. The reason for these three is not entirely certain, and I am yet to read a satisfactory explanation. Although the story of both Moses and Joshua have a straightforward connection to stone, and an active role in establishing and expanding the nation of the chosen people, Tobias seems like an odd man out. It is possible that the connection is in his father’s practice of burying the Jews of Nineveh contrary to the law of the land, and in the grave that Tobias barely escaped on his wedding night. There is also the confrontation with demonic evil, when Tobias drives away the devil Ashmodai and saves his own life, as well as the connection with healed blindness, as Tobit is blinded by a bird pooping in his eyes, and later cured by his son.

1663-9: There are apparently some text missing here, though there do not appear to be any pages missing in the Vercelli Book. Krapp takes the incomplete phrase "folc of firenum" as the end of a question, and posits a break between "murnende mod" and "fore sneowan." I have followed Bradley pretty closely here, since he provides a good example of how to interpret the text that actually appears, gaps and all. He takes of as expressing a causal relationship, and interpreting the preposition fore as "in the presence of."

1686: in woruld worulda: A fairly frequent phrase, which appears seventeen times in the extant poetry (most frequently in the Paris Psalter). Outside of the Psalter, the phrase always alliterates with wuldor, either alone or in a kenning.