Chapter 7

THE PHŒNIX[Text used: Bright’sAnglo-Saxon Reader. The Latin source is also printed there.Alliterative translations: Pancoast and Spaeth,Early English Poems; William Rice Sims,Modern Language Notes, vii, 11-13; Hall,Judith,Phœnix, etc.Source: First part, Lactantius,De Ave Phoenice; second part, application of the myth to Christ based on Ambrose and Bede.In summing up scholarly opinion up to the date of his own writing (1910) Mr. Kennedy says [The Poems of Cynewulf, pp. 58-59]: “In general, however, it may be said that, while the question does not submit itself to definite conclusions, the weight of critical opinion leans to the side of Cynewulf’s having written thePhœnix, and that the time of its composition would fall between theChristand theElene.”The first part of the poem is among the most pleasing pieces of description in Anglo-Saxon.]I.I have heard that there liesa land far henceA noble realmwell-known unto men,In the eastern kingdoms.That corner of the worldIs not easy of accessto every tribe5On the face of the earth,but afar it was placedBy the might of the Makerfrom men of sin.The plain is beautiful,a place of blessings,And filled with the fairestfragrance of earth;Matchless is that island,its maker unequalled,10Steadfast and strong of heart,who established that land.There are often opento the eyes of the blessed,The happiness of the holythrough heaven’s door.That is a winsome plain;the woods are green,Far stretching under the stars.There no storm of rain or snow,15Nor breath of frostnor blast of fire,Nor fall of hailnor hoary frost,Nor burning sunnor bitter cold,Nor warm weathernor winter showersShall work any woe,but that winsome plain20Is wholesome and unharmed;in that happy landBlossoms are blown.No bold hills nor mountainsThere stand up steep;no stony cliffsLift high their headsas here with us,Nor dales nor glensnor darksome gorges,25Nor caves nor crags;nor occur there everAnything rough;but under radiant skiesFlourish the fieldsin flowers and blossoms.This lovely landlieth higherBy twelve full fathoms,as famous writers,30As sages sayand set forth in books,Than any of the hillsthat here with usRise bright and highunder heaven’s stars.Peaceful is that plain,pleasant its sunny grove,Winsome its woodland glades;never wanes its increase35Nor fails of its fruitage,but fair stand the trees,Ever green as Godhad given command;In winter and summerthe woodlands cease notTo be filled with fruit,and there fades not a leaf;Not a blossom is blightednor burned by the fire40Through all the agestill the end of time,Till the world shall fail.When the fury of watersOver all the earthin olden timesCovered the world,then the wondrous plain,Unharmed and unhurtby the heaving flood,45Strongly withstoodand stemmed the waves,Blest and uninjuredthrough the aid of God:Thus blooming it abidestill the burning fireOf the day of doomwhen the death-chambers openAnd the ghastly gravesshall give up their dead.50No fearsome foeis found in that land,No sign of distress,no strife, no weeping,Neither age, nor misery,nor the menace of death,Nor failing of life,nor foemen’s approach,No sin nor trialnor tribulation,55Nor the want of wealth,nor work for the pauper,No sorrow nor sleep,nor sick-bed’s pain,Nor wintry winds,nor weather’s raging,Fierce under the heavens;nor the hard frostCauseth discomfortwith cold icicles.60Neither hail nor frostfall from the heavens,Nor wintry cloudnor water descendethStirred by the storms;but streams there flow,Wondrously wellingand watering the earth,Pouring forthin pleasant fountains;65The winsome waterfrom the wood’s middleEach month of the yearfrom the mould of earth,Cold as the sea,coursing through the woods,Breaketh abundantly.It is the bidding of the LordThat twelve times yearlythat teeming land70The floods shall o’erflowand fill with joy.The groves are greenwith gorgeous bloom,And fairest of fruits;there fail not at allThe holy treasuresof the trees under heaven,Nor falleth from the foreststhe fallow blossoms,75The beauty of the trees;but, bounteously laden,The boughs are hangingheavy with fruitThat is always newin every season.In the grassy plainall green appear,Gorgeously garnishedby God in his might,80The forests fair.Nor fails the woodIn its pleasing prospect;a perfume holyEnchanteth the land.No change shall it knowForever till he endshis ancient plan,His work of wisdomas he willed it at first.II85In that wood there dwelletha wondrous bird,Fearless in flight,the Phœnix its name.Lonely it livethits life in this place,Doughty of soul;death never seeks himIn that well-loved woodwhile the world shall endure.90He is said to watchthe sun on his wayAnd to go to meetGod’s bright candle,That gleaming gem,and gladly to noteWhen rises in radiancethe most royal of starsUp from the eastover the ocean’s waves,95The famous work of the Father,fair with adornments,The bright sign of God.Buried are the stars,Wandering ’neath the watersto the western realms;They grow dim at dawn,and the dark nightCreepeth wanly away.Then on wings of strength,100Proud on his pinions,he placeth his gazeEagerly on the streams,and stares over the waterWhere the gleam of heavengliding shall comeO’er the broad oceanfrom the bright east.So the wondrous birdat the water’s spring105Bideth in beauty,in the brimming streams.Twelve times therethe triumphant birdBathes in the brookere the beacon appears,The candle of heaven,and the cold streamOf the joy-inspiringsprings he tasteth110From the icy burnat every bath.Then after his sportin the springs at dawn,Filled full of pridehe flies to a treeWhere most easily he mayin the eastern realmBehold the journey,when the jewel of heaven115Over the shimmering sea,the shining light,Gleameth in glory.Garnished is the land,The world made beautiful,when the blessed gemIllumines the land,the largest of starsIn the circle of the seassends forth its rays.120Soon as the sunover the salt streams;Rises in glory,then the gray-feathered birdBlithely risesfrom the beam where he rested;Fleet-winged he farethand flieth on high;Singing and carolinghe soareth to heaven.125Fair is the famousfowl in his bearingWith joy in his breast,in bliss exulting;He warbles his songmore wondrously sweetAnd choicer of notethan ever child of manHeard beneath the heavenssince the High King,130The worker of wonders,the world established,Heaven and earth.His hymn is more beautifulAnd fairer by farthan all forms of song-craft;Its singing surpasseththe sweetest of music.To the song can comparenot the sound of trumpet,135Nor of horn; nor of harp,nor of heroes’ voicesOn all the earth,nor of organ’s sound,Nor singing songnor swan’s fair feathers,Nor of any good thingthat God createdAs a joy to menin this mournful world!140Thus he singeth and carollethcrowned with joy,Until the bright sunin a southern skySinks to its setting;then silent he isAnd listeneth and bowethand bendeth his head,Sage in his thoughts,and thrice he shaketh145His feathers for flight;the fowl is hushed.Twelve equal timeshe telleth the hoursOf day and night.’Tis ordained in this way,And willed that the dwellerof the woods should have joy,Pleasure in that plainand its peaceful bliss,150Taste delights and lifeand the land’s enjoyments,Till he waiteth a thousandwinters of life,The aged wardenof the ancient wood.Then the gray-feathered fowlin the fullness of yearsIs grievously stricken.From the green earth he fleeth,155The favorite of birds,from the flowering land,And beareth his flightto a far-off realm,To a distant domainwhere dwelleth no man,As his native land.Then the noble fowlBecometh rulerover the race of birds,160Distinguished in their tribe,and for a time he dwellethWith them in the waste.Then on wings of strength,He flieth to the west,full of winters,Swift on his wing;in swarms then press,The birds about their lord;all long to serve him165And to live in loyaltyto their leader brave,Until he seeketh outthe Syrian landWith mighty train.Then turneth the pure oneSharply away,and in the shade of the forestHe dwells, in the grove,in the desert place,170Concealed and hidfrom the host of men.There high on a boughhe abides alone,Under heaven’s roof,hard by the rootsOf a far stretching tree,which the Phœnix is calledBy the nations of earthfrom the name of that bird.175The King of gloryhas granted that tree,The Holy One of heaven,as I have heard said,That it among allthe other treesThat grow in the gloriousgroves of the worldBloometh most brightly.No blight may hurt it,180Nor work it harm,but while the world standsIt shall be shieldedfrom the shafts of evil.IIIWhen the wind is at restand the weather is fair,And the holy gemof heaven is shining,And clouds have flownand the forces of water185Are standing stilled,and the storms are allAssuaged and soothed:from the south there gleamethThe warm weather-candle,welcomed by men.In the boughs the birdthen buildeth its home,Beginneth its nest;great is its need190To work in haste,with the highest wisdom,That his old age he may giveto gain new life,A fair young spirit.Then far and near,He gathers togetherto his goodly homeThe winsomest herbsand the wood’s sweet blossoms,195The fair perfumesand fragrant shootsWhich were placed in the worldby the wondrous Lord,By the Father of all,on the face of the earth,As a pleasure foreverto the proud race of men—The beauty of blossoms.There he beareth away200To that royal treethe richest of treasure.There the wild fowlin the waste landOn the highest beamsbuildeth his house,On the loftiest limbs,and he liveth thereIn that upper room;on all sides he surrounds205In that shade unbrokenhis body and wingsWith blessed fragranceand fairest of blooms,The most gorgeous of green thingsthat grow on the earth.He awaiteth his journeywhen the gem of heavenIn the summer season,the sun at its hottest,210Shineth over the shadeand shapeth its destiny,Gazeth over the world.Then it groweth warm,His house becomes heatedby the heavenly gleam;The herbs wax hot;the house steamethWith the sweetest of savors;in the sweltering heat,215In the furious flame,the fowl with his nestIs embraced by the bale-fire;then burning seizethThe disheartened one’s house;in hot haste risethThe fallow flame,and the Phœnix it reacheth,In fullness of age.Then the fire eateth,220Burneth the body,while borne is the soul,The fated one’s spirit,where flesh and boneShall burn in the blaze.But it is born anew,Attaineth new lifeat the time allotted.When the ashes againbegin to assemble,225To fall in a heapwhen the fire is spent,To cling in a mass,then clean becomethThat bright abode—burnt by the fireThe home of the bird.When the body is coldAnd its frame is shatteredand the fire slumbers230In the funeral flame,then is found the likenessOf an apple that newlyin the ashes appeareth,And waxeth into a wormwondrously fair,As if out from an eggit had opened its way,Shining from the shell.In the shade it groweth,235Till at first it is formedlike a fledgling eagle,A fair young fowl;then further stillIt increaseth in stature,till in strength it is likeTo a full-grown eagle,and after thatWith feathers fairas at first it was,240Brightly blooming.Then the bird grows strong,Regains its brightnessand is born again,Sundered from sin,somewhat as ifOne should fetch in food,the fruits of the earth,Should haul it homeat harvest time,245The fairest of cornere the frosts shall comeAt the time of reaping,lest the rain in showersStrike down and destroy it;a stay they have readyA feast of food,when frost and snowWith their mighty coursingcover the earth250In winter weeds;the wealth of manFrom those fair fruitsshall flourish againThrough the nature of grain,which now in the groundIs sown as clear seed;then the sun’s warm raysIn time of springsprouts the life germ,255Awakes the world’s richesso that wondrous fruits,The treasures of earth,by their own kindAre brought forth again:that bird changeth likewise,Old in his years,to youth again,With fair new flesh;no food nor meat260He eateth on the earthsave only a tasteOf fine honey-dewwhich falleth oftenIn the middle of night;the noble fowlThus feedeth and growethtill he flieth againTo his own domain,to his ancient dwelling.IV265When the bird springs rebornfrom its bower of herbs,Proud of pinion,pleased with new life,Young and full of grace,from the ground he thenSkillfully piles upthe scattered partsOf the graceful body,gathers the bones,270Which the funeral fireaforetime devoured;Then brings altogetherthe bones and the ashes,The remnant of the flameshe arranges anew,And carefully coversthat carrion spoilWith fairest flowers.Then he fares away,275Seeking the sacredsoil of his birthplace.With his feet he fastensto the fire’s grim leavings,Clasps them in his clawsand his country again,The sun-bright seat,he seeks in joy,His own native-land.All is renewed—280His body and feathers,in the form that was his,When placed in the pleasantplain by his Maker,By gracious God.Together he bringethThe bones of his bodywhich were burned on the pyre,Which the funeral flamesbefore had enveloped,285And also the ashes;then all in a heapThis bird then burieththe bones and embers,His ashes on the island.Then his eyes for the first timeCatch sight of the sun,see in the heavenThat flaming gem,the joy of the firmament290Which beams from the eastover the ocean billows.Before is that fowlfair in its plumage,Bright colors glowon its gorgeous breast,Behind its headis a hue of green,With brilliant crimsoncunningly blended.295The feathers of its tailare fairly divided:Some brown, some flaming,some beautifully fleckedWith brilliant spots.At the back, his feathersAre gleaming white;green is his neckBoth beneath and above,and the bill shines300As glass or a gem;the jaws glistenWithin and without.The eye ball pierces,And strongly stareswith a stone-like gaze,Like a clear-wrought gemthat is carefully setInto a golden gobletby a goodly smith.305Surrounding its necklike the radiant sun,Is the brightest of ringsbraided with feathers;Its belly is wondrouswith wealth of color,Sheer and shining.A shield extendsBrilliantly fairabove the back of the fowl.310The comely legsare covered with scales;The feet are bright yellow.The fowl is in beautyPeerless, alone,though like the peacockDelightfully wrought,as the writings relate.It is neither slow in movement,nor sluggish in mien,315Nor slothful nor inertas some birds are,Who flap their wingsin weary flight,But he is fast and fleet,and floats through the air,Marvelous, winsome,and wondrously marked.Blessed is the Godwho gave him that bliss!320When at last it leavesthe land, and journeysTo hunt the fieldsof its former home,As the fowl fliethmany folk view it.It pleases in passingthe people of earth,Who are seen assemblingfrom south and north;325They come from the east,they crowd from the west,Faring from afar;the folk throng to seeThe grace that is givenby God in his mercyTo this fairest fowl,which at first receivedFrom gracious Godthe greatest of natures330And a beauty unrivalledin the race of birds.Then over the earthall men marvelAt the freshness and fairnessand make it famous in writings;With their hands they mould iton the hardest of marble,Which through time and tidetells the multitudes335Of the rarity of the flying one.Then the race of fowlsOn every handenter in hosts,Surge in the paths,praise it in song,Magnify the stern-hearted onein mighty strains;And so the holy onethey hem in in circles340As it flies amain.The Phœnix is in the midstPressed by their hosts.The people beholdAnd watch with wonderhow the willing bandsWorship the wanderer,one after the other,Mightily proclaimand magnify their King,345Their beloved Lord.They lead joyfullyThe noble one home;but now the wild oneFlies away fast;no followers may comeFrom the happy host,when their head takes wingFar from this landto find his home.V350So the dauntless fowlafter his fiery deathHappily hastensto his home again,To his beauteous abode.The birds return,Leaving their leader,with lonely hearts,Again to their land;then their gracious lord355Is young in his courts.The King Almighty,God alone knowsits nature by sex,Male or female;no man can tell,No living beingsave the Lord onlyHow wise and wondrousare the ways of the bird,360And the fair decreefor the fowl’s creation!There the happy onehis home may enjoy,With its welling watersand woodland groves,May live in peacethrough the passing of wintersA thousand in number;then he knows again365The ends of his life;over him is laidThe funeral fire:yet he finds life again,And wondrously awakenedhe waxes in strength.He droops not nor dreadshis death therefore,The awful agony,since always he knows370That the lap of the flamebrings life afresh,Peace after death,when undaunted once moreFully featheredand formed as a birdOut of the ashesup he can spring,Safe under the heavens.To himself he is both375A father and a son,and finds himself alsoEver the heirto his olden life.The Almighty Makerof man has grantedThat though the fire shall fastenits fetters upon him,He is given new life,and lives again380Fashioned with feathersas aforetime he was.VISo each living manthe life eternalSeeks for himselfafter sorest cares;That through the darksome doorof death he may findThe goodly graceof God and enjoy385Forever and ayeunending blissAs reward for his work—the wonders of heaven.The nature of this fowlis not unlikeThat of those chosenas children of God,And it shows men a signof how sacred joys390Granted by Godthey may gain in trial—Hold beneath the heavensthrough his holy grace,And abide in rapturein the realms above.We have found that the faithfulFather createdMan and womanthrough his wondrous might.395At first in the fairestfields of his earthHe set these sonson a soil unblemished,In a pleasant place,Paradise named,Since they lacked no delightas long as the pairWisely heededthe Holy word400In their new home.There hatred came,The old foe’s envy,who offered them food,The fruit of the tree,which in folly they tried;Both ate of the appleagainst the order of God,Tasted the forbidden.Then bitter became405Their woe after eatingand for their heirs as well—For sons and daughtersa sorrowful feast.Grievously were punishedtheir greedy teethFor that greatest of guilt;God’s wrath they knewAnd bitter remorse;hence bearing their crimes,410Their sons must sufferfor the sin of their parentsAgainst God’s commands.Hence, grieved in soulThey shall lose the delightsof the land of blissThrough envy of the serpentwho deceived our eldersIn direful wisein days of yore415Through his wicked heart,so that they went far henceTo the dale of deathto doleful lifeIn a sorrowful home.Hidden from themWas the blessed life;and the blissful plain,By the fiend’s cunning,was fastened close420For many winters,till the Maker of wonders,The King of mankind,Comforter of the weary,Our only Hope,hither came downTo the godly bandand again held it open.VIIHis advent is likenedby learned writers425In their works of wisdomand words of truth,To the flight of that fowl,when forth he goesFrom his own countryand becometh old,Weighed with winters,weary in mind,And finds in wanderingthe forest wood430Where a bower he builds:with branches and herbs,With rarest of twigs,he raises his dwelling,His nest in the wood.Great need he hathThat he gain againhis gladsome youthIn the flame of firethat he may find new life,435Renew his youth,and his native home,His sunbright seat,he may seek againAfter his bath of fire.So abandoned before usThe first of our parentstheir fairest plain,Their happy home,their hope of glory,440To fare afaron a fearful journey,Where hostile handsharshly beset them;Evil ones ofteninjured them sorely.Yet many menmarked well the Lord,Heeded his behestsin holy customs,445In glorious deeds,so that God, their Redeemer,The high Heaven-Kinghearkened to them.That is the high treewherein holy menHide their homefrom the harm of their foeAnd know no peril,neither with poison450Nor with treacherous tokenin time of evil.There God’s warriorworks him a nest,With doughty deedsdangers avoids,He distributes almsto the stricken and needy,He tells graceless menof the mercy of God,455Of the Father’s help;he hastens forth,Lessening the perilsof this passing life,Its darksome deeds,and does God’s willWith bravery in his breast.His bidding he seeksIn prayer, with pure heartand pliant knee460Bent to the earth;all evil is banished,All grim offencesby his fear of God;Happy in hearthe hopes full wellTo do good deeds:the Redeemer is his shieldIn his varied walks,the Wielder of victory,465Joy-giver to people.Those plants are the ones,The flowers of fruit,which the fowl of wildnessFinds in this worldfrom far and wideAnd brings to his abode,where it builds a nestWith firmness of heartagainst fear and hatred.470So in that placeGod’s soldiers performWith courage and mightthe Creator’s commands.Then they gain them glory:they are given rewardsBy the gracious Godfor their goodness of heart.From those is madea pleasant dwelling475As reward for their works,in the wondrous city;Since they held in their heartsthe holy teachings,Serving their Lordwith loving soulsBy day and by night—and never ceasing—With fervent faithpreferring their Lord480Above worldly wealth.They ween not, indeed,That long they will livein this life that is fleeting.A blessed earlearns by his virtueA home in heavenwith the highest King,And comfort forever,—this he earns ere the close485Of his days in the world,when Death, the warrior,Greedy for warfare,girded with weapons,Seeketh each lifeand sendeth quicklyInto the bosom of the earththose deserted bodiesLorn of their souls,where long they shall bide490Covered with claytill the coming of the fire.Many of the sonsof men into the assemblyAre led by the leaders;the Lord of angels,The Father Almighty,the Master of hosts,Will judge with justicethe joyful and the sad.495Then mortal menin a mass shall ariseAs the righteous King,the Ruler of angels,The Savior of soulssaid it must be,Gave command by the trumpetto the tribes of the world.Then ends darkest deathfor those dear to the Lord;500Through the grace of Godthe good shall departIn clamoring crowdswhen this cruel worldShall burst into flames,into baleful fire;The earth shall end.Then all shall haveMost frightful fear,when the fire crashes over505Earth’s fleeting fortunes,when the flame eats upIts olden treasures,eagerly graspethOn goodly goldand greedily consumesThe land’s adornments.Then dawns in lightIn that awesome hourfor all of men,510The fair and sacredsymbol of the fowl,When the mighty Rulershall arouse all men,Shall gather togetherfrom the grave the bones,The limbs of the body,those left from the flame,Before the knee of Christ:the King in splendor515From his lofty seatshall give light to the holy,The gem of glory.It will be joyous and gladsomeTo the servers of Truthin that sad time.VIIIThere the bodies,bathed of their sins,Shall go in gladness;again shall their spirits520To their bony frames,and the fire shall burn,Mounting high to heaven.Hot shall be to manyThat awful flame,when every man,Unblemished or sinful,his soul in his body,From the depths of his graveseeks the doom of God,525Frightfully afraid.The fire shall save men,Burning all sin.So shall the blessedAfter weary wandering,with their works be clothed,With the fruit of their deeds:fair are these roots,These winsome flowersthat the wild fowl530Collects to layon his lovely nestIn order that easilyhis own fair homeMay burn in the sun,and himself along with it,And so after the firehe finds him new life;So every manin all the world535Shall be covered with flesh,fair and comely,And always young,if his own choice leads himTo work God’s will;then the world’s high KingMighty at the meetingmercy will grant him.Then the hymns shall rise highfrom the holy band,540The chosen soulsshall chant their songs,In praise of the powerfulPrince of men,Strain upon strain,and strengthened and fragrantOf their godly worksthey shall wend to glory.Then are men’s spiritsmade spotless and bright545Through the flame of the fire—refined and made pure.In all the earthlet not anyone weenThat I wrought this laywith lying speech,With hated word-craft!Hear ye the wisdomOf the hymns of Job!With heart of joy550And spirit brave,he boldly spoke;With wondrous sanctitythat word he said:“I feel it a factin the fastness of my soulThat one day in my nestdeath I shall know,And weary of heartwoefully go hence,555Compassed with clay,on my closing journey,Mournful of mind,in the moldy earth.And through the gift of GodI shall gain once moreLike the Phœnix fowl,a fair new life,On the day of arisingfrom ruinous death,560Delights with God,where the loving throngAre exalting their Lord.I look not at allEver to cometo the end of that lifeOf light and bliss,though my body shall lieIn its gruesome graveand grow decayed,565A joy to worms;for the Judge of the worldShall save my soul,and send it to gloryAfter the time of death.I shall trust foreverWith steadfast breast,in the Strength of angels;Firm is my faithin the Father of all.”570Thus sang the sagehis song of old,Herald to God,with gladsome heart:How he was liftedto life eternal.Then we may truly interpretthe token clearlyWhich the glorious birdgave through its burning.575It gathers togetherthe grim bone-remnants,The ashes and embersall into one placeAfter the surge of the fire;the fowl then seizes itWith its feet and fliesto the Father’s gardenTowards the sun;for a time there he sojourns,580For many winters,made in new wise,All of him young;nor may any there yearnTo do him menacewith deeds of malice.So may after deathby the Redeemer’s mightSouls go with bodies,bound together,585Fashioned in loveliness,most like to that fowl,In rich array,with rare perfumes,Where the steadfast sunstreams its lightO’er the sacred hostsin the happy city.IXThen high over the roofsthe holy Ruler590Shines on the soulsof the saved and the loyal.Radiant fowlsfollow around himBrightest of birds,in bliss exulting,The chosen and joyous onesjoin him at home,Forever and ever,where no evil is wrought595By the foulest fiendin his fickle deceit;But they shall live in lastinglight and beauty,As the Phœnix fowl,in the faith of God.Every one of men’s worksin that wondrous home,In that blissful abode,brightly shines forth600In the peaceful presenceof the Prince eternal,Who resembles the sun.A sacred crownMost richly wroughtwith radiant gems,High over the headof each holy soulGlitters refulgent;their foreheads gleam,605Covered with glory;the crown of GodEmbellishes beautifullythe blessed hostWith light in that life,where lasting joyIs fresh and youngand fades not away,But they dwell in bliss,adorned in beauty,610With fairest ornaments,with the Father’s angels.They see no sorrowin those sacred courts,No sin nor sufferingnor sad work-days,No burning hunger,nor bitter thirst,No evil nor age:but ever their King615Granteth his graceto the glorious bandThat loves its Lordand everlasting King,That glorifies and praisesthe power of God.That host round the holyhigh-set throneMakes then melodyin mighty strains;620The blessed saintsblithely singIn unison with angels,orisons to the Lord:“Peace to thee, O God,thou proud Monarch,Thou Ruler reigningwith righteousness and skill;Thanks for thy goodlygifts to us all;625Mighty and measurelessis thy majesty and strength,High and holy!The heavens, O Lord,Are fairly filled,O Father Almighty,Glory of glories,in greatness rulingAmong angels aboveand on earth beneath!630Guard us, O God of creation;thou governest all things!Lord of the highestheavens above!”So shall the saintssing his praises,Those free from sin,in that fairest of cities,Proclaim his power,the righteous people,635The host in heavenhail the Redeemer:Honor without endis only for him,Not ever at allhad he any birth,Any beginning of bliss,though he was born in the world,On this earth in the imageof an innocent child;640With unfailing justiceand fairest judgments,High above the heavensin holiness he dwelt!Though he must endurethe death of the cross,Bear the bitterburden of men,When three days have passedafter the death of his body,645He regains new lifethrough the love of God,Through the aid of the Father.So the Phœnix betokensIn his youthful state,the strength of Christ,Who in a wondrous wiseawakes from the ashesUnto the life of life,with limbs begirded;650So the Saviorsought to aid usThrough the loss of his body,life without end.Likewise that fowlfilleth his wings,Loads them with sweetand scented roots,With winsome flowersand flies away;655These are the words,wise men tell us,The songs of the holy oneswhose souls go to heaven,With the loving Lordto live for aye,In bliss of bliss,where they bring to GodTheir words and their works,wondrous in savor,660As a precious gift,in that glorious place,In that life of light.Lasting be the praiseThrough the world of worldsand wondrous honor,And royal powerin the princely realm,The kingdom of heaven.He is King indeed665Of the lands belowand of lordly majesty,Encircled with honorin that city of beauty.He has given us leavelucis auctor,That here we maymerueriAs reward for goodgaudia in celo,670That all of us maymaxima regnaSeek and sit onsedibus altis,Shall live a lifelucis et pacis,Shall own a homealmae letitiae,Know blessings and bliss;blandem and mitem675Lord they shall seesine fine,And lift up a songlauda perenneForever with the angels.Alleluia!680.This and the following lines are imitated from the original in which the first half line, in Old English, alliterates with the second half line, in Latin. The Latin is here retained. The meaning of the lines is this: “The Author of light has given us leave that we may here merit as a reward for good, joy in heaven, that all of us may seek the mighty kingdom and sit on the high seats, may live a life of light and peace, may own a home of tender joy; may see the merciful and mild Lord for time without end, and may lift up a song in eternal praise, forever with the angels. Alleluia!”

[Text used: Bright’sAnglo-Saxon Reader. The Latin source is also printed there.Alliterative translations: Pancoast and Spaeth,Early English Poems; William Rice Sims,Modern Language Notes, vii, 11-13; Hall,Judith,Phœnix, etc.Source: First part, Lactantius,De Ave Phoenice; second part, application of the myth to Christ based on Ambrose and Bede.In summing up scholarly opinion up to the date of his own writing (1910) Mr. Kennedy says [The Poems of Cynewulf, pp. 58-59]: “In general, however, it may be said that, while the question does not submit itself to definite conclusions, the weight of critical opinion leans to the side of Cynewulf’s having written thePhœnix, and that the time of its composition would fall between theChristand theElene.”The first part of the poem is among the most pleasing pieces of description in Anglo-Saxon.]

[Text used: Bright’sAnglo-Saxon Reader. The Latin source is also printed there.

Alliterative translations: Pancoast and Spaeth,Early English Poems; William Rice Sims,Modern Language Notes, vii, 11-13; Hall,Judith,Phœnix, etc.

Source: First part, Lactantius,De Ave Phoenice; second part, application of the myth to Christ based on Ambrose and Bede.

In summing up scholarly opinion up to the date of his own writing (1910) Mr. Kennedy says [The Poems of Cynewulf, pp. 58-59]: “In general, however, it may be said that, while the question does not submit itself to definite conclusions, the weight of critical opinion leans to the side of Cynewulf’s having written thePhœnix, and that the time of its composition would fall between theChristand theElene.”

The first part of the poem is among the most pleasing pieces of description in Anglo-Saxon.]

I have heard that there liesa land far henceA noble realmwell-known unto men,In the eastern kingdoms.That corner of the worldIs not easy of accessto every tribe5On the face of the earth,but afar it was placedBy the might of the Makerfrom men of sin.The plain is beautiful,a place of blessings,And filled with the fairestfragrance of earth;Matchless is that island,its maker unequalled,10Steadfast and strong of heart,who established that land.There are often opento the eyes of the blessed,The happiness of the holythrough heaven’s door.That is a winsome plain;the woods are green,Far stretching under the stars.There no storm of rain or snow,15Nor breath of frostnor blast of fire,Nor fall of hailnor hoary frost,Nor burning sunnor bitter cold,Nor warm weathernor winter showersShall work any woe,but that winsome plain20Is wholesome and unharmed;in that happy landBlossoms are blown.No bold hills nor mountainsThere stand up steep;no stony cliffsLift high their headsas here with us,Nor dales nor glensnor darksome gorges,25Nor caves nor crags;nor occur there everAnything rough;but under radiant skiesFlourish the fieldsin flowers and blossoms.This lovely landlieth higherBy twelve full fathoms,as famous writers,30As sages sayand set forth in books,Than any of the hillsthat here with usRise bright and highunder heaven’s stars.Peaceful is that plain,pleasant its sunny grove,Winsome its woodland glades;never wanes its increase35Nor fails of its fruitage,but fair stand the trees,Ever green as Godhad given command;In winter and summerthe woodlands cease notTo be filled with fruit,and there fades not a leaf;Not a blossom is blightednor burned by the fire40Through all the agestill the end of time,Till the world shall fail.When the fury of watersOver all the earthin olden timesCovered the world,then the wondrous plain,Unharmed and unhurtby the heaving flood,45Strongly withstoodand stemmed the waves,Blest and uninjuredthrough the aid of God:Thus blooming it abidestill the burning fireOf the day of doomwhen the death-chambers openAnd the ghastly gravesshall give up their dead.50No fearsome foeis found in that land,No sign of distress,no strife, no weeping,Neither age, nor misery,nor the menace of death,Nor failing of life,nor foemen’s approach,No sin nor trialnor tribulation,55Nor the want of wealth,nor work for the pauper,No sorrow nor sleep,nor sick-bed’s pain,Nor wintry winds,nor weather’s raging,Fierce under the heavens;nor the hard frostCauseth discomfortwith cold icicles.60Neither hail nor frostfall from the heavens,Nor wintry cloudnor water descendethStirred by the storms;but streams there flow,Wondrously wellingand watering the earth,Pouring forthin pleasant fountains;65The winsome waterfrom the wood’s middleEach month of the yearfrom the mould of earth,Cold as the sea,coursing through the woods,Breaketh abundantly.It is the bidding of the LordThat twelve times yearlythat teeming land70The floods shall o’erflowand fill with joy.The groves are greenwith gorgeous bloom,And fairest of fruits;there fail not at allThe holy treasuresof the trees under heaven,Nor falleth from the foreststhe fallow blossoms,75The beauty of the trees;but, bounteously laden,The boughs are hangingheavy with fruitThat is always newin every season.In the grassy plainall green appear,Gorgeously garnishedby God in his might,80The forests fair.Nor fails the woodIn its pleasing prospect;a perfume holyEnchanteth the land.No change shall it knowForever till he endshis ancient plan,His work of wisdomas he willed it at first.

I have heard that there liesa land far hence

A noble realmwell-known unto men,

In the eastern kingdoms.That corner of the world

Is not easy of accessto every tribe

5On the face of the earth,but afar it was placed

By the might of the Makerfrom men of sin.

The plain is beautiful,a place of blessings,

And filled with the fairestfragrance of earth;

Matchless is that island,its maker unequalled,

10Steadfast and strong of heart,who established that land.

There are often opento the eyes of the blessed,

The happiness of the holythrough heaven’s door.

That is a winsome plain;the woods are green,

Far stretching under the stars.There no storm of rain or snow,

15Nor breath of frostnor blast of fire,

Nor fall of hailnor hoary frost,

Nor burning sunnor bitter cold,

Nor warm weathernor winter showers

Shall work any woe,but that winsome plain

20Is wholesome and unharmed;in that happy land

Blossoms are blown.No bold hills nor mountains

There stand up steep;no stony cliffs

Lift high their headsas here with us,

Nor dales nor glensnor darksome gorges,

25Nor caves nor crags;nor occur there ever

Anything rough;but under radiant skies

Flourish the fieldsin flowers and blossoms.

This lovely landlieth higher

By twelve full fathoms,as famous writers,

30As sages sayand set forth in books,

Than any of the hillsthat here with us

Rise bright and highunder heaven’s stars.

Peaceful is that plain,pleasant its sunny grove,

Winsome its woodland glades;never wanes its increase

35Nor fails of its fruitage,but fair stand the trees,

Ever green as Godhad given command;

In winter and summerthe woodlands cease not

To be filled with fruit,and there fades not a leaf;

Not a blossom is blightednor burned by the fire

40Through all the agestill the end of time,

Till the world shall fail.When the fury of waters

Over all the earthin olden times

Covered the world,then the wondrous plain,

Unharmed and unhurtby the heaving flood,

45Strongly withstoodand stemmed the waves,

Blest and uninjuredthrough the aid of God:

Thus blooming it abidestill the burning fire

Of the day of doomwhen the death-chambers open

And the ghastly gravesshall give up their dead.

50No fearsome foeis found in that land,

No sign of distress,no strife, no weeping,

Neither age, nor misery,nor the menace of death,

Nor failing of life,nor foemen’s approach,

No sin nor trialnor tribulation,

55Nor the want of wealth,nor work for the pauper,

No sorrow nor sleep,nor sick-bed’s pain,

Nor wintry winds,nor weather’s raging,

Fierce under the heavens;nor the hard frost

Causeth discomfortwith cold icicles.

60Neither hail nor frostfall from the heavens,

Nor wintry cloudnor water descendeth

Stirred by the storms;but streams there flow,

Wondrously wellingand watering the earth,

Pouring forthin pleasant fountains;

65The winsome waterfrom the wood’s middle

Each month of the yearfrom the mould of earth,

Cold as the sea,coursing through the woods,

Breaketh abundantly.It is the bidding of the Lord

That twelve times yearlythat teeming land

70The floods shall o’erflowand fill with joy.

The groves are greenwith gorgeous bloom,

And fairest of fruits;there fail not at all

The holy treasuresof the trees under heaven,

Nor falleth from the foreststhe fallow blossoms,

75The beauty of the trees;but, bounteously laden,

The boughs are hangingheavy with fruit

That is always newin every season.

In the grassy plainall green appear,

Gorgeously garnishedby God in his might,

80The forests fair.Nor fails the wood

In its pleasing prospect;a perfume holy

Enchanteth the land.No change shall it know

Forever till he endshis ancient plan,

His work of wisdomas he willed it at first.

85In that wood there dwelletha wondrous bird,Fearless in flight,the Phœnix its name.Lonely it livethits life in this place,Doughty of soul;death never seeks himIn that well-loved woodwhile the world shall endure.90He is said to watchthe sun on his wayAnd to go to meetGod’s bright candle,That gleaming gem,and gladly to noteWhen rises in radiancethe most royal of starsUp from the eastover the ocean’s waves,95The famous work of the Father,fair with adornments,The bright sign of God.Buried are the stars,Wandering ’neath the watersto the western realms;They grow dim at dawn,and the dark nightCreepeth wanly away.Then on wings of strength,100Proud on his pinions,he placeth his gazeEagerly on the streams,and stares over the waterWhere the gleam of heavengliding shall comeO’er the broad oceanfrom the bright east.So the wondrous birdat the water’s spring105Bideth in beauty,in the brimming streams.Twelve times therethe triumphant birdBathes in the brookere the beacon appears,The candle of heaven,and the cold streamOf the joy-inspiringsprings he tasteth110From the icy burnat every bath.Then after his sportin the springs at dawn,Filled full of pridehe flies to a treeWhere most easily he mayin the eastern realmBehold the journey,when the jewel of heaven115Over the shimmering sea,the shining light,Gleameth in glory.Garnished is the land,The world made beautiful,when the blessed gemIllumines the land,the largest of starsIn the circle of the seassends forth its rays.120Soon as the sunover the salt streams;Rises in glory,then the gray-feathered birdBlithely risesfrom the beam where he rested;Fleet-winged he farethand flieth on high;Singing and carolinghe soareth to heaven.125Fair is the famousfowl in his bearingWith joy in his breast,in bliss exulting;He warbles his songmore wondrously sweetAnd choicer of notethan ever child of manHeard beneath the heavenssince the High King,130The worker of wonders,the world established,Heaven and earth.His hymn is more beautifulAnd fairer by farthan all forms of song-craft;Its singing surpasseththe sweetest of music.To the song can comparenot the sound of trumpet,135Nor of horn; nor of harp,nor of heroes’ voicesOn all the earth,nor of organ’s sound,Nor singing songnor swan’s fair feathers,Nor of any good thingthat God createdAs a joy to menin this mournful world!140Thus he singeth and carollethcrowned with joy,Until the bright sunin a southern skySinks to its setting;then silent he isAnd listeneth and bowethand bendeth his head,Sage in his thoughts,and thrice he shaketh145His feathers for flight;the fowl is hushed.Twelve equal timeshe telleth the hoursOf day and night.’Tis ordained in this way,And willed that the dwellerof the woods should have joy,Pleasure in that plainand its peaceful bliss,150Taste delights and lifeand the land’s enjoyments,Till he waiteth a thousandwinters of life,The aged wardenof the ancient wood.Then the gray-feathered fowlin the fullness of yearsIs grievously stricken.From the green earth he fleeth,155The favorite of birds,from the flowering land,And beareth his flightto a far-off realm,To a distant domainwhere dwelleth no man,As his native land.Then the noble fowlBecometh rulerover the race of birds,160Distinguished in their tribe,and for a time he dwellethWith them in the waste.Then on wings of strength,He flieth to the west,full of winters,Swift on his wing;in swarms then press,The birds about their lord;all long to serve him165And to live in loyaltyto their leader brave,Until he seeketh outthe Syrian landWith mighty train.Then turneth the pure oneSharply away,and in the shade of the forestHe dwells, in the grove,in the desert place,170Concealed and hidfrom the host of men.There high on a boughhe abides alone,Under heaven’s roof,hard by the rootsOf a far stretching tree,which the Phœnix is calledBy the nations of earthfrom the name of that bird.175The King of gloryhas granted that tree,The Holy One of heaven,as I have heard said,That it among allthe other treesThat grow in the gloriousgroves of the worldBloometh most brightly.No blight may hurt it,180Nor work it harm,but while the world standsIt shall be shieldedfrom the shafts of evil.

85In that wood there dwelletha wondrous bird,

Fearless in flight,the Phœnix its name.

Lonely it livethits life in this place,

Doughty of soul;death never seeks him

In that well-loved woodwhile the world shall endure.

90He is said to watchthe sun on his way

And to go to meetGod’s bright candle,

That gleaming gem,and gladly to note

When rises in radiancethe most royal of stars

Up from the eastover the ocean’s waves,

95The famous work of the Father,fair with adornments,

The bright sign of God.Buried are the stars,

Wandering ’neath the watersto the western realms;

They grow dim at dawn,and the dark night

Creepeth wanly away.Then on wings of strength,

100Proud on his pinions,he placeth his gaze

Eagerly on the streams,and stares over the water

Where the gleam of heavengliding shall come

O’er the broad oceanfrom the bright east.

So the wondrous birdat the water’s spring

105Bideth in beauty,in the brimming streams.

Twelve times therethe triumphant bird

Bathes in the brookere the beacon appears,

The candle of heaven,and the cold stream

Of the joy-inspiringsprings he tasteth

110From the icy burnat every bath.

Then after his sportin the springs at dawn,

Filled full of pridehe flies to a tree

Where most easily he mayin the eastern realm

Behold the journey,when the jewel of heaven

115Over the shimmering sea,the shining light,

Gleameth in glory.Garnished is the land,

The world made beautiful,when the blessed gem

Illumines the land,the largest of stars

In the circle of the seassends forth its rays.

120Soon as the sunover the salt streams;

Rises in glory,then the gray-feathered bird

Blithely risesfrom the beam where he rested;

Fleet-winged he farethand flieth on high;

Singing and carolinghe soareth to heaven.

125Fair is the famousfowl in his bearing

With joy in his breast,in bliss exulting;

He warbles his songmore wondrously sweet

And choicer of notethan ever child of man

Heard beneath the heavenssince the High King,

130The worker of wonders,the world established,

Heaven and earth.His hymn is more beautiful

And fairer by farthan all forms of song-craft;

Its singing surpasseththe sweetest of music.

To the song can comparenot the sound of trumpet,

135Nor of horn; nor of harp,nor of heroes’ voices

On all the earth,nor of organ’s sound,

Nor singing songnor swan’s fair feathers,

Nor of any good thingthat God created

As a joy to menin this mournful world!

140Thus he singeth and carollethcrowned with joy,

Until the bright sunin a southern sky

Sinks to its setting;then silent he is

And listeneth and bowethand bendeth his head,

Sage in his thoughts,and thrice he shaketh

145His feathers for flight;the fowl is hushed.

Twelve equal timeshe telleth the hours

Of day and night.’Tis ordained in this way,

And willed that the dwellerof the woods should have joy,

Pleasure in that plainand its peaceful bliss,

150Taste delights and lifeand the land’s enjoyments,

Till he waiteth a thousandwinters of life,

The aged wardenof the ancient wood.

Then the gray-feathered fowlin the fullness of years

Is grievously stricken.From the green earth he fleeth,

155The favorite of birds,from the flowering land,

And beareth his flightto a far-off realm,

To a distant domainwhere dwelleth no man,

As his native land.Then the noble fowl

Becometh rulerover the race of birds,

160Distinguished in their tribe,and for a time he dwelleth

With them in the waste.Then on wings of strength,

He flieth to the west,full of winters,

Swift on his wing;in swarms then press,

The birds about their lord;all long to serve him

165And to live in loyaltyto their leader brave,

Until he seeketh outthe Syrian land

With mighty train.Then turneth the pure one

Sharply away,and in the shade of the forest

He dwells, in the grove,in the desert place,

170Concealed and hidfrom the host of men.

There high on a boughhe abides alone,

Under heaven’s roof,hard by the roots

Of a far stretching tree,which the Phœnix is called

By the nations of earthfrom the name of that bird.

175The King of gloryhas granted that tree,

The Holy One of heaven,as I have heard said,

That it among allthe other trees

That grow in the gloriousgroves of the world

Bloometh most brightly.No blight may hurt it,

180Nor work it harm,but while the world stands

It shall be shieldedfrom the shafts of evil.

When the wind is at restand the weather is fair,And the holy gemof heaven is shining,And clouds have flownand the forces of water185Are standing stilled,and the storms are allAssuaged and soothed:from the south there gleamethThe warm weather-candle,welcomed by men.In the boughs the birdthen buildeth its home,Beginneth its nest;great is its need190To work in haste,with the highest wisdom,That his old age he may giveto gain new life,A fair young spirit.Then far and near,He gathers togetherto his goodly homeThe winsomest herbsand the wood’s sweet blossoms,195The fair perfumesand fragrant shootsWhich were placed in the worldby the wondrous Lord,By the Father of all,on the face of the earth,As a pleasure foreverto the proud race of men—The beauty of blossoms.There he beareth away200To that royal treethe richest of treasure.There the wild fowlin the waste landOn the highest beamsbuildeth his house,On the loftiest limbs,and he liveth thereIn that upper room;on all sides he surrounds205In that shade unbrokenhis body and wingsWith blessed fragranceand fairest of blooms,The most gorgeous of green thingsthat grow on the earth.He awaiteth his journeywhen the gem of heavenIn the summer season,the sun at its hottest,210Shineth over the shadeand shapeth its destiny,Gazeth over the world.Then it groweth warm,His house becomes heatedby the heavenly gleam;The herbs wax hot;the house steamethWith the sweetest of savors;in the sweltering heat,215In the furious flame,the fowl with his nestIs embraced by the bale-fire;then burning seizethThe disheartened one’s house;in hot haste risethThe fallow flame,and the Phœnix it reacheth,In fullness of age.Then the fire eateth,220Burneth the body,while borne is the soul,The fated one’s spirit,where flesh and boneShall burn in the blaze.But it is born anew,Attaineth new lifeat the time allotted.When the ashes againbegin to assemble,225To fall in a heapwhen the fire is spent,To cling in a mass,then clean becomethThat bright abode—burnt by the fireThe home of the bird.When the body is coldAnd its frame is shatteredand the fire slumbers230In the funeral flame,then is found the likenessOf an apple that newlyin the ashes appeareth,And waxeth into a wormwondrously fair,As if out from an eggit had opened its way,Shining from the shell.In the shade it groweth,235Till at first it is formedlike a fledgling eagle,A fair young fowl;then further stillIt increaseth in stature,till in strength it is likeTo a full-grown eagle,and after thatWith feathers fairas at first it was,240Brightly blooming.Then the bird grows strong,Regains its brightnessand is born again,Sundered from sin,somewhat as ifOne should fetch in food,the fruits of the earth,Should haul it homeat harvest time,245The fairest of cornere the frosts shall comeAt the time of reaping,lest the rain in showersStrike down and destroy it;a stay they have readyA feast of food,when frost and snowWith their mighty coursingcover the earth250In winter weeds;the wealth of manFrom those fair fruitsshall flourish againThrough the nature of grain,which now in the groundIs sown as clear seed;then the sun’s warm raysIn time of springsprouts the life germ,255Awakes the world’s richesso that wondrous fruits,The treasures of earth,by their own kindAre brought forth again:that bird changeth likewise,Old in his years,to youth again,With fair new flesh;no food nor meat260He eateth on the earthsave only a tasteOf fine honey-dewwhich falleth oftenIn the middle of night;the noble fowlThus feedeth and growethtill he flieth againTo his own domain,to his ancient dwelling.

When the wind is at restand the weather is fair,

And the holy gemof heaven is shining,

And clouds have flownand the forces of water

185Are standing stilled,and the storms are all

Assuaged and soothed:from the south there gleameth

The warm weather-candle,welcomed by men.

In the boughs the birdthen buildeth its home,

Beginneth its nest;great is its need

190To work in haste,with the highest wisdom,

That his old age he may giveto gain new life,

A fair young spirit.Then far and near,

He gathers togetherto his goodly home

The winsomest herbsand the wood’s sweet blossoms,

195The fair perfumesand fragrant shoots

Which were placed in the worldby the wondrous Lord,

By the Father of all,on the face of the earth,

As a pleasure foreverto the proud race of men—

The beauty of blossoms.There he beareth away

200To that royal treethe richest of treasure.

There the wild fowlin the waste land

On the highest beamsbuildeth his house,

On the loftiest limbs,and he liveth there

In that upper room;on all sides he surrounds

205In that shade unbrokenhis body and wings

With blessed fragranceand fairest of blooms,

The most gorgeous of green thingsthat grow on the earth.

He awaiteth his journeywhen the gem of heaven

In the summer season,the sun at its hottest,

210Shineth over the shadeand shapeth its destiny,

Gazeth over the world.Then it groweth warm,

His house becomes heatedby the heavenly gleam;

The herbs wax hot;the house steameth

With the sweetest of savors;in the sweltering heat,

215In the furious flame,the fowl with his nest

Is embraced by the bale-fire;then burning seizeth

The disheartened one’s house;in hot haste riseth

The fallow flame,and the Phœnix it reacheth,

In fullness of age.Then the fire eateth,

220Burneth the body,while borne is the soul,

The fated one’s spirit,where flesh and bone

Shall burn in the blaze.But it is born anew,

Attaineth new lifeat the time allotted.

When the ashes againbegin to assemble,

225To fall in a heapwhen the fire is spent,

To cling in a mass,then clean becometh

That bright abode—burnt by the fire

The home of the bird.When the body is cold

And its frame is shatteredand the fire slumbers

230In the funeral flame,then is found the likeness

Of an apple that newlyin the ashes appeareth,

And waxeth into a wormwondrously fair,

As if out from an eggit had opened its way,

Shining from the shell.In the shade it groweth,

235Till at first it is formedlike a fledgling eagle,

A fair young fowl;then further still

It increaseth in stature,till in strength it is like

To a full-grown eagle,and after that

With feathers fairas at first it was,

240Brightly blooming.Then the bird grows strong,

Regains its brightnessand is born again,

Sundered from sin,somewhat as if

One should fetch in food,the fruits of the earth,

Should haul it homeat harvest time,

245The fairest of cornere the frosts shall come

At the time of reaping,lest the rain in showers

Strike down and destroy it;a stay they have ready

A feast of food,when frost and snow

With their mighty coursingcover the earth

250In winter weeds;the wealth of man

From those fair fruitsshall flourish again

Through the nature of grain,which now in the ground

Is sown as clear seed;then the sun’s warm rays

In time of springsprouts the life germ,

255Awakes the world’s richesso that wondrous fruits,

The treasures of earth,by their own kind

Are brought forth again:that bird changeth likewise,

Old in his years,to youth again,

With fair new flesh;no food nor meat

260He eateth on the earthsave only a taste

Of fine honey-dewwhich falleth often

In the middle of night;the noble fowl

Thus feedeth and growethtill he flieth again

To his own domain,to his ancient dwelling.

265When the bird springs rebornfrom its bower of herbs,Proud of pinion,pleased with new life,Young and full of grace,from the ground he thenSkillfully piles upthe scattered partsOf the graceful body,gathers the bones,270Which the funeral fireaforetime devoured;Then brings altogetherthe bones and the ashes,The remnant of the flameshe arranges anew,And carefully coversthat carrion spoilWith fairest flowers.Then he fares away,275Seeking the sacredsoil of his birthplace.With his feet he fastensto the fire’s grim leavings,Clasps them in his clawsand his country again,The sun-bright seat,he seeks in joy,His own native-land.All is renewed—280His body and feathers,in the form that was his,When placed in the pleasantplain by his Maker,By gracious God.Together he bringethThe bones of his bodywhich were burned on the pyre,Which the funeral flamesbefore had enveloped,285And also the ashes;then all in a heapThis bird then burieththe bones and embers,His ashes on the island.Then his eyes for the first timeCatch sight of the sun,see in the heavenThat flaming gem,the joy of the firmament290Which beams from the eastover the ocean billows.Before is that fowlfair in its plumage,Bright colors glowon its gorgeous breast,Behind its headis a hue of green,With brilliant crimsoncunningly blended.295The feathers of its tailare fairly divided:Some brown, some flaming,some beautifully fleckedWith brilliant spots.At the back, his feathersAre gleaming white;green is his neckBoth beneath and above,and the bill shines300As glass or a gem;the jaws glistenWithin and without.The eye ball pierces,And strongly stareswith a stone-like gaze,Like a clear-wrought gemthat is carefully setInto a golden gobletby a goodly smith.305Surrounding its necklike the radiant sun,Is the brightest of ringsbraided with feathers;Its belly is wondrouswith wealth of color,Sheer and shining.A shield extendsBrilliantly fairabove the back of the fowl.310The comely legsare covered with scales;The feet are bright yellow.The fowl is in beautyPeerless, alone,though like the peacockDelightfully wrought,as the writings relate.It is neither slow in movement,nor sluggish in mien,315Nor slothful nor inertas some birds are,Who flap their wingsin weary flight,But he is fast and fleet,and floats through the air,Marvelous, winsome,and wondrously marked.Blessed is the Godwho gave him that bliss!320When at last it leavesthe land, and journeysTo hunt the fieldsof its former home,As the fowl fliethmany folk view it.It pleases in passingthe people of earth,Who are seen assemblingfrom south and north;325They come from the east,they crowd from the west,Faring from afar;the folk throng to seeThe grace that is givenby God in his mercyTo this fairest fowl,which at first receivedFrom gracious Godthe greatest of natures330And a beauty unrivalledin the race of birds.Then over the earthall men marvelAt the freshness and fairnessand make it famous in writings;With their hands they mould iton the hardest of marble,Which through time and tidetells the multitudes335Of the rarity of the flying one.Then the race of fowlsOn every handenter in hosts,Surge in the paths,praise it in song,Magnify the stern-hearted onein mighty strains;And so the holy onethey hem in in circles340As it flies amain.The Phœnix is in the midstPressed by their hosts.The people beholdAnd watch with wonderhow the willing bandsWorship the wanderer,one after the other,Mightily proclaimand magnify their King,345Their beloved Lord.They lead joyfullyThe noble one home;but now the wild oneFlies away fast;no followers may comeFrom the happy host,when their head takes wingFar from this landto find his home.

265When the bird springs rebornfrom its bower of herbs,

Proud of pinion,pleased with new life,

Young and full of grace,from the ground he then

Skillfully piles upthe scattered parts

Of the graceful body,gathers the bones,

270Which the funeral fireaforetime devoured;

Then brings altogetherthe bones and the ashes,

The remnant of the flameshe arranges anew,

And carefully coversthat carrion spoil

With fairest flowers.Then he fares away,

275Seeking the sacredsoil of his birthplace.

With his feet he fastensto the fire’s grim leavings,

Clasps them in his clawsand his country again,

The sun-bright seat,he seeks in joy,

His own native-land.All is renewed—

280His body and feathers,in the form that was his,

When placed in the pleasantplain by his Maker,

By gracious God.Together he bringeth

The bones of his bodywhich were burned on the pyre,

Which the funeral flamesbefore had enveloped,

285And also the ashes;then all in a heap

This bird then burieththe bones and embers,

His ashes on the island.Then his eyes for the first time

Catch sight of the sun,see in the heaven

That flaming gem,the joy of the firmament

290Which beams from the eastover the ocean billows.

Before is that fowlfair in its plumage,

Bright colors glowon its gorgeous breast,

Behind its headis a hue of green,

With brilliant crimsoncunningly blended.

295The feathers of its tailare fairly divided:

Some brown, some flaming,some beautifully flecked

With brilliant spots.At the back, his feathers

Are gleaming white;green is his neck

Both beneath and above,and the bill shines

300As glass or a gem;the jaws glisten

Within and without.The eye ball pierces,

And strongly stareswith a stone-like gaze,

Like a clear-wrought gemthat is carefully set

Into a golden gobletby a goodly smith.

305Surrounding its necklike the radiant sun,

Is the brightest of ringsbraided with feathers;

Its belly is wondrouswith wealth of color,

Sheer and shining.A shield extends

Brilliantly fairabove the back of the fowl.

310The comely legsare covered with scales;

The feet are bright yellow.The fowl is in beauty

Peerless, alone,though like the peacock

Delightfully wrought,as the writings relate.

It is neither slow in movement,nor sluggish in mien,

315Nor slothful nor inertas some birds are,

Who flap their wingsin weary flight,

But he is fast and fleet,and floats through the air,

Marvelous, winsome,and wondrously marked.

Blessed is the Godwho gave him that bliss!

320When at last it leavesthe land, and journeys

To hunt the fieldsof its former home,

As the fowl fliethmany folk view it.

It pleases in passingthe people of earth,

Who are seen assemblingfrom south and north;

325They come from the east,they crowd from the west,

Faring from afar;the folk throng to see

The grace that is givenby God in his mercy

To this fairest fowl,which at first received

From gracious Godthe greatest of natures

330And a beauty unrivalledin the race of birds.

Then over the earthall men marvel

At the freshness and fairnessand make it famous in writings;

With their hands they mould iton the hardest of marble,

Which through time and tidetells the multitudes

335Of the rarity of the flying one.Then the race of fowls

On every handenter in hosts,

Surge in the paths,praise it in song,

Magnify the stern-hearted onein mighty strains;

And so the holy onethey hem in in circles

340As it flies amain.The Phœnix is in the midst

Pressed by their hosts.The people behold

And watch with wonderhow the willing bands

Worship the wanderer,one after the other,

Mightily proclaimand magnify their King,

345Their beloved Lord.They lead joyfully

The noble one home;but now the wild one

Flies away fast;no followers may come

From the happy host,when their head takes wing

Far from this landto find his home.

350So the dauntless fowlafter his fiery deathHappily hastensto his home again,To his beauteous abode.The birds return,Leaving their leader,with lonely hearts,Again to their land;then their gracious lord355Is young in his courts.The King Almighty,God alone knowsits nature by sex,Male or female;no man can tell,No living beingsave the Lord onlyHow wise and wondrousare the ways of the bird,360And the fair decreefor the fowl’s creation!There the happy onehis home may enjoy,With its welling watersand woodland groves,May live in peacethrough the passing of wintersA thousand in number;then he knows again365The ends of his life;over him is laidThe funeral fire:yet he finds life again,And wondrously awakenedhe waxes in strength.He droops not nor dreadshis death therefore,The awful agony,since always he knows370That the lap of the flamebrings life afresh,Peace after death,when undaunted once moreFully featheredand formed as a birdOut of the ashesup he can spring,Safe under the heavens.To himself he is both375A father and a son,and finds himself alsoEver the heirto his olden life.The Almighty Makerof man has grantedThat though the fire shall fastenits fetters upon him,He is given new life,and lives again380Fashioned with feathersas aforetime he was.

350So the dauntless fowlafter his fiery death

Happily hastensto his home again,

To his beauteous abode.The birds return,

Leaving their leader,with lonely hearts,

Again to their land;then their gracious lord

355Is young in his courts.The King Almighty,

God alone knowsits nature by sex,

Male or female;no man can tell,

No living beingsave the Lord only

How wise and wondrousare the ways of the bird,

360And the fair decreefor the fowl’s creation!

There the happy onehis home may enjoy,

With its welling watersand woodland groves,

May live in peacethrough the passing of winters

A thousand in number;then he knows again

365The ends of his life;over him is laid

The funeral fire:yet he finds life again,

And wondrously awakenedhe waxes in strength.

He droops not nor dreadshis death therefore,

The awful agony,since always he knows

370That the lap of the flamebrings life afresh,

Peace after death,when undaunted once more

Fully featheredand formed as a bird

Out of the ashesup he can spring,

Safe under the heavens.To himself he is both

375A father and a son,and finds himself also

Ever the heirto his olden life.

The Almighty Makerof man has granted

That though the fire shall fastenits fetters upon him,

He is given new life,and lives again

380Fashioned with feathersas aforetime he was.

So each living manthe life eternalSeeks for himselfafter sorest cares;That through the darksome doorof death he may findThe goodly graceof God and enjoy385Forever and ayeunending blissAs reward for his work—the wonders of heaven.The nature of this fowlis not unlikeThat of those chosenas children of God,And it shows men a signof how sacred joys390Granted by Godthey may gain in trial—Hold beneath the heavensthrough his holy grace,And abide in rapturein the realms above.We have found that the faithfulFather createdMan and womanthrough his wondrous might.395At first in the fairestfields of his earthHe set these sonson a soil unblemished,In a pleasant place,Paradise named,Since they lacked no delightas long as the pairWisely heededthe Holy word400In their new home.There hatred came,The old foe’s envy,who offered them food,The fruit of the tree,which in folly they tried;Both ate of the appleagainst the order of God,Tasted the forbidden.Then bitter became405Their woe after eatingand for their heirs as well—For sons and daughtersa sorrowful feast.Grievously were punishedtheir greedy teethFor that greatest of guilt;God’s wrath they knewAnd bitter remorse;hence bearing their crimes,410Their sons must sufferfor the sin of their parentsAgainst God’s commands.Hence, grieved in soulThey shall lose the delightsof the land of blissThrough envy of the serpentwho deceived our eldersIn direful wisein days of yore415Through his wicked heart,so that they went far henceTo the dale of deathto doleful lifeIn a sorrowful home.Hidden from themWas the blessed life;and the blissful plain,By the fiend’s cunning,was fastened close420For many winters,till the Maker of wonders,The King of mankind,Comforter of the weary,Our only Hope,hither came downTo the godly bandand again held it open.

So each living manthe life eternal

Seeks for himselfafter sorest cares;

That through the darksome doorof death he may find

The goodly graceof God and enjoy

385Forever and ayeunending bliss

As reward for his work—the wonders of heaven.

The nature of this fowlis not unlike

That of those chosenas children of God,

And it shows men a signof how sacred joys

390Granted by Godthey may gain in trial—

Hold beneath the heavensthrough his holy grace,

And abide in rapturein the realms above.

We have found that the faithfulFather created

Man and womanthrough his wondrous might.

395At first in the fairestfields of his earth

He set these sonson a soil unblemished,

In a pleasant place,Paradise named,

Since they lacked no delightas long as the pair

Wisely heededthe Holy word

400In their new home.There hatred came,

The old foe’s envy,who offered them food,

The fruit of the tree,which in folly they tried;

Both ate of the appleagainst the order of God,

Tasted the forbidden.Then bitter became

405Their woe after eatingand for their heirs as well—

For sons and daughtersa sorrowful feast.

Grievously were punishedtheir greedy teeth

For that greatest of guilt;God’s wrath they knew

And bitter remorse;hence bearing their crimes,

410Their sons must sufferfor the sin of their parents

Against God’s commands.Hence, grieved in soul

They shall lose the delightsof the land of bliss

Through envy of the serpentwho deceived our elders

In direful wisein days of yore

415Through his wicked heart,so that they went far hence

To the dale of deathto doleful life

In a sorrowful home.Hidden from them

Was the blessed life;and the blissful plain,

By the fiend’s cunning,was fastened close

420For many winters,till the Maker of wonders,

The King of mankind,Comforter of the weary,

Our only Hope,hither came down

To the godly bandand again held it open.

His advent is likenedby learned writers425In their works of wisdomand words of truth,To the flight of that fowl,when forth he goesFrom his own countryand becometh old,Weighed with winters,weary in mind,And finds in wanderingthe forest wood430Where a bower he builds:with branches and herbs,With rarest of twigs,he raises his dwelling,His nest in the wood.Great need he hathThat he gain againhis gladsome youthIn the flame of firethat he may find new life,435Renew his youth,and his native home,His sunbright seat,he may seek againAfter his bath of fire.So abandoned before usThe first of our parentstheir fairest plain,Their happy home,their hope of glory,440To fare afaron a fearful journey,Where hostile handsharshly beset them;Evil ones ofteninjured them sorely.Yet many menmarked well the Lord,Heeded his behestsin holy customs,445In glorious deeds,so that God, their Redeemer,The high Heaven-Kinghearkened to them.That is the high treewherein holy menHide their homefrom the harm of their foeAnd know no peril,neither with poison450Nor with treacherous tokenin time of evil.There God’s warriorworks him a nest,With doughty deedsdangers avoids,He distributes almsto the stricken and needy,He tells graceless menof the mercy of God,455Of the Father’s help;he hastens forth,Lessening the perilsof this passing life,Its darksome deeds,and does God’s willWith bravery in his breast.His bidding he seeksIn prayer, with pure heartand pliant knee460Bent to the earth;all evil is banished,All grim offencesby his fear of God;Happy in hearthe hopes full wellTo do good deeds:the Redeemer is his shieldIn his varied walks,the Wielder of victory,465Joy-giver to people.Those plants are the ones,The flowers of fruit,which the fowl of wildnessFinds in this worldfrom far and wideAnd brings to his abode,where it builds a nestWith firmness of heartagainst fear and hatred.470So in that placeGod’s soldiers performWith courage and mightthe Creator’s commands.Then they gain them glory:they are given rewardsBy the gracious Godfor their goodness of heart.From those is madea pleasant dwelling475As reward for their works,in the wondrous city;Since they held in their heartsthe holy teachings,Serving their Lordwith loving soulsBy day and by night—and never ceasing—With fervent faithpreferring their Lord480Above worldly wealth.They ween not, indeed,That long they will livein this life that is fleeting.A blessed earlearns by his virtueA home in heavenwith the highest King,And comfort forever,—this he earns ere the close485Of his days in the world,when Death, the warrior,Greedy for warfare,girded with weapons,Seeketh each lifeand sendeth quicklyInto the bosom of the earththose deserted bodiesLorn of their souls,where long they shall bide490Covered with claytill the coming of the fire.Many of the sonsof men into the assemblyAre led by the leaders;the Lord of angels,The Father Almighty,the Master of hosts,Will judge with justicethe joyful and the sad.495Then mortal menin a mass shall ariseAs the righteous King,the Ruler of angels,The Savior of soulssaid it must be,Gave command by the trumpetto the tribes of the world.Then ends darkest deathfor those dear to the Lord;500Through the grace of Godthe good shall departIn clamoring crowdswhen this cruel worldShall burst into flames,into baleful fire;The earth shall end.Then all shall haveMost frightful fear,when the fire crashes over505Earth’s fleeting fortunes,when the flame eats upIts olden treasures,eagerly graspethOn goodly goldand greedily consumesThe land’s adornments.Then dawns in lightIn that awesome hourfor all of men,510The fair and sacredsymbol of the fowl,When the mighty Rulershall arouse all men,Shall gather togetherfrom the grave the bones,The limbs of the body,those left from the flame,Before the knee of Christ:the King in splendor515From his lofty seatshall give light to the holy,The gem of glory.It will be joyous and gladsomeTo the servers of Truthin that sad time.

His advent is likenedby learned writers

425In their works of wisdomand words of truth,

To the flight of that fowl,when forth he goes

From his own countryand becometh old,

Weighed with winters,weary in mind,

And finds in wanderingthe forest wood

430Where a bower he builds:with branches and herbs,

With rarest of twigs,he raises his dwelling,

His nest in the wood.Great need he hath

That he gain againhis gladsome youth

In the flame of firethat he may find new life,

435Renew his youth,and his native home,

His sunbright seat,he may seek again

After his bath of fire.So abandoned before us

The first of our parentstheir fairest plain,

Their happy home,their hope of glory,

440To fare afaron a fearful journey,

Where hostile handsharshly beset them;

Evil ones ofteninjured them sorely.

Yet many menmarked well the Lord,

Heeded his behestsin holy customs,

445In glorious deeds,so that God, their Redeemer,

The high Heaven-Kinghearkened to them.

That is the high treewherein holy men

Hide their homefrom the harm of their foe

And know no peril,neither with poison

450Nor with treacherous tokenin time of evil.

There God’s warriorworks him a nest,

With doughty deedsdangers avoids,

He distributes almsto the stricken and needy,

He tells graceless menof the mercy of God,

455Of the Father’s help;he hastens forth,

Lessening the perilsof this passing life,

Its darksome deeds,and does God’s will

With bravery in his breast.His bidding he seeks

In prayer, with pure heartand pliant knee

460Bent to the earth;all evil is banished,

All grim offencesby his fear of God;

Happy in hearthe hopes full well

To do good deeds:the Redeemer is his shield

In his varied walks,the Wielder of victory,

465Joy-giver to people.Those plants are the ones,

The flowers of fruit,which the fowl of wildness

Finds in this worldfrom far and wide

And brings to his abode,where it builds a nest

With firmness of heartagainst fear and hatred.

470So in that placeGod’s soldiers perform

With courage and mightthe Creator’s commands.

Then they gain them glory:they are given rewards

By the gracious Godfor their goodness of heart.

From those is madea pleasant dwelling

475As reward for their works,in the wondrous city;

Since they held in their heartsthe holy teachings,

Serving their Lordwith loving souls

By day and by night—and never ceasing—

With fervent faithpreferring their Lord

480Above worldly wealth.They ween not, indeed,

That long they will livein this life that is fleeting.

A blessed earlearns by his virtue

A home in heavenwith the highest King,

And comfort forever,—this he earns ere the close

485Of his days in the world,when Death, the warrior,

Greedy for warfare,girded with weapons,

Seeketh each lifeand sendeth quickly

Into the bosom of the earththose deserted bodies

Lorn of their souls,where long they shall bide

490Covered with claytill the coming of the fire.

Many of the sonsof men into the assembly

Are led by the leaders;the Lord of angels,

The Father Almighty,the Master of hosts,

Will judge with justicethe joyful and the sad.

495Then mortal menin a mass shall arise

As the righteous King,the Ruler of angels,

The Savior of soulssaid it must be,

Gave command by the trumpetto the tribes of the world.

Then ends darkest deathfor those dear to the Lord;

500Through the grace of Godthe good shall depart

In clamoring crowdswhen this cruel world

Shall burst into flames,into baleful fire;

The earth shall end.Then all shall have

Most frightful fear,when the fire crashes over

505Earth’s fleeting fortunes,when the flame eats up

Its olden treasures,eagerly graspeth

On goodly goldand greedily consumes

The land’s adornments.Then dawns in light

In that awesome hourfor all of men,

510The fair and sacredsymbol of the fowl,

When the mighty Rulershall arouse all men,

Shall gather togetherfrom the grave the bones,

The limbs of the body,those left from the flame,

Before the knee of Christ:the King in splendor

515From his lofty seatshall give light to the holy,

The gem of glory.It will be joyous and gladsome

To the servers of Truthin that sad time.

There the bodies,bathed of their sins,Shall go in gladness;again shall their spirits520To their bony frames,and the fire shall burn,Mounting high to heaven.Hot shall be to manyThat awful flame,when every man,Unblemished or sinful,his soul in his body,From the depths of his graveseeks the doom of God,525Frightfully afraid.The fire shall save men,Burning all sin.So shall the blessedAfter weary wandering,with their works be clothed,With the fruit of their deeds:fair are these roots,These winsome flowersthat the wild fowl530Collects to layon his lovely nestIn order that easilyhis own fair homeMay burn in the sun,and himself along with it,And so after the firehe finds him new life;So every manin all the world535Shall be covered with flesh,fair and comely,And always young,if his own choice leads himTo work God’s will;then the world’s high KingMighty at the meetingmercy will grant him.Then the hymns shall rise highfrom the holy band,540The chosen soulsshall chant their songs,In praise of the powerfulPrince of men,Strain upon strain,and strengthened and fragrantOf their godly worksthey shall wend to glory.Then are men’s spiritsmade spotless and bright545Through the flame of the fire—refined and made pure.In all the earthlet not anyone weenThat I wrought this laywith lying speech,With hated word-craft!Hear ye the wisdomOf the hymns of Job!With heart of joy550And spirit brave,he boldly spoke;With wondrous sanctitythat word he said:“I feel it a factin the fastness of my soulThat one day in my nestdeath I shall know,And weary of heartwoefully go hence,555Compassed with clay,on my closing journey,Mournful of mind,in the moldy earth.And through the gift of GodI shall gain once moreLike the Phœnix fowl,a fair new life,On the day of arisingfrom ruinous death,560Delights with God,where the loving throngAre exalting their Lord.I look not at allEver to cometo the end of that lifeOf light and bliss,though my body shall lieIn its gruesome graveand grow decayed,565A joy to worms;for the Judge of the worldShall save my soul,and send it to gloryAfter the time of death.I shall trust foreverWith steadfast breast,in the Strength of angels;Firm is my faithin the Father of all.”570Thus sang the sagehis song of old,Herald to God,with gladsome heart:How he was liftedto life eternal.Then we may truly interpretthe token clearlyWhich the glorious birdgave through its burning.575It gathers togetherthe grim bone-remnants,The ashes and embersall into one placeAfter the surge of the fire;the fowl then seizes itWith its feet and fliesto the Father’s gardenTowards the sun;for a time there he sojourns,580For many winters,made in new wise,All of him young;nor may any there yearnTo do him menacewith deeds of malice.So may after deathby the Redeemer’s mightSouls go with bodies,bound together,585Fashioned in loveliness,most like to that fowl,In rich array,with rare perfumes,Where the steadfast sunstreams its lightO’er the sacred hostsin the happy city.

There the bodies,bathed of their sins,

Shall go in gladness;again shall their spirits

520To their bony frames,and the fire shall burn,

Mounting high to heaven.Hot shall be to many

That awful flame,when every man,

Unblemished or sinful,his soul in his body,

From the depths of his graveseeks the doom of God,

525Frightfully afraid.The fire shall save men,

Burning all sin.So shall the blessed

After weary wandering,with their works be clothed,

With the fruit of their deeds:fair are these roots,

These winsome flowersthat the wild fowl

530Collects to layon his lovely nest

In order that easilyhis own fair home

May burn in the sun,and himself along with it,

And so after the firehe finds him new life;

So every manin all the world

535Shall be covered with flesh,fair and comely,

And always young,if his own choice leads him

To work God’s will;then the world’s high King

Mighty at the meetingmercy will grant him.

Then the hymns shall rise highfrom the holy band,

540The chosen soulsshall chant their songs,

In praise of the powerfulPrince of men,

Strain upon strain,and strengthened and fragrant

Of their godly worksthey shall wend to glory.

Then are men’s spiritsmade spotless and bright

545Through the flame of the fire—refined and made pure.

In all the earthlet not anyone ween

That I wrought this laywith lying speech,

With hated word-craft!Hear ye the wisdom

Of the hymns of Job!With heart of joy

550And spirit brave,he boldly spoke;

With wondrous sanctitythat word he said:

“I feel it a factin the fastness of my soul

That one day in my nestdeath I shall know,

And weary of heartwoefully go hence,

555Compassed with clay,on my closing journey,

Mournful of mind,in the moldy earth.

And through the gift of GodI shall gain once more

Like the Phœnix fowl,a fair new life,

On the day of arisingfrom ruinous death,

560Delights with God,where the loving throng

Are exalting their Lord.I look not at all

Ever to cometo the end of that life

Of light and bliss,though my body shall lie

In its gruesome graveand grow decayed,

565A joy to worms;for the Judge of the world

Shall save my soul,and send it to glory

After the time of death.I shall trust forever

With steadfast breast,in the Strength of angels;

Firm is my faithin the Father of all.”

570Thus sang the sagehis song of old,

Herald to God,with gladsome heart:

How he was liftedto life eternal.

Then we may truly interpretthe token clearly

Which the glorious birdgave through its burning.

575It gathers togetherthe grim bone-remnants,

The ashes and embersall into one place

After the surge of the fire;the fowl then seizes it

With its feet and fliesto the Father’s garden

Towards the sun;for a time there he sojourns,

580For many winters,made in new wise,

All of him young;nor may any there yearn

To do him menacewith deeds of malice.

So may after deathby the Redeemer’s might

Souls go with bodies,bound together,

585Fashioned in loveliness,most like to that fowl,

In rich array,with rare perfumes,

Where the steadfast sunstreams its light

O’er the sacred hostsin the happy city.

Then high over the roofsthe holy Ruler590Shines on the soulsof the saved and the loyal.Radiant fowlsfollow around himBrightest of birds,in bliss exulting,The chosen and joyous onesjoin him at home,Forever and ever,where no evil is wrought595By the foulest fiendin his fickle deceit;But they shall live in lastinglight and beauty,As the Phœnix fowl,in the faith of God.Every one of men’s worksin that wondrous home,In that blissful abode,brightly shines forth600In the peaceful presenceof the Prince eternal,Who resembles the sun.A sacred crownMost richly wroughtwith radiant gems,High over the headof each holy soulGlitters refulgent;their foreheads gleam,605Covered with glory;the crown of GodEmbellishes beautifullythe blessed hostWith light in that life,where lasting joyIs fresh and youngand fades not away,But they dwell in bliss,adorned in beauty,610With fairest ornaments,with the Father’s angels.They see no sorrowin those sacred courts,No sin nor sufferingnor sad work-days,No burning hunger,nor bitter thirst,No evil nor age:but ever their King615Granteth his graceto the glorious bandThat loves its Lordand everlasting King,That glorifies and praisesthe power of God.That host round the holyhigh-set throneMakes then melodyin mighty strains;620The blessed saintsblithely singIn unison with angels,orisons to the Lord:“Peace to thee, O God,thou proud Monarch,Thou Ruler reigningwith righteousness and skill;Thanks for thy goodlygifts to us all;625Mighty and measurelessis thy majesty and strength,High and holy!The heavens, O Lord,Are fairly filled,O Father Almighty,Glory of glories,in greatness rulingAmong angels aboveand on earth beneath!630Guard us, O God of creation;thou governest all things!Lord of the highestheavens above!”So shall the saintssing his praises,Those free from sin,in that fairest of cities,Proclaim his power,the righteous people,635The host in heavenhail the Redeemer:Honor without endis only for him,Not ever at allhad he any birth,Any beginning of bliss,though he was born in the world,On this earth in the imageof an innocent child;640With unfailing justiceand fairest judgments,High above the heavensin holiness he dwelt!Though he must endurethe death of the cross,Bear the bitterburden of men,When three days have passedafter the death of his body,645He regains new lifethrough the love of God,Through the aid of the Father.So the Phœnix betokensIn his youthful state,the strength of Christ,Who in a wondrous wiseawakes from the ashesUnto the life of life,with limbs begirded;650So the Saviorsought to aid usThrough the loss of his body,life without end.Likewise that fowlfilleth his wings,Loads them with sweetand scented roots,With winsome flowersand flies away;655These are the words,wise men tell us,The songs of the holy oneswhose souls go to heaven,With the loving Lordto live for aye,In bliss of bliss,where they bring to GodTheir words and their works,wondrous in savor,660As a precious gift,in that glorious place,In that life of light.Lasting be the praiseThrough the world of worldsand wondrous honor,And royal powerin the princely realm,The kingdom of heaven.He is King indeed665Of the lands belowand of lordly majesty,Encircled with honorin that city of beauty.He has given us leavelucis auctor,That here we maymerueriAs reward for goodgaudia in celo,670That all of us maymaxima regnaSeek and sit onsedibus altis,Shall live a lifelucis et pacis,Shall own a homealmae letitiae,Know blessings and bliss;blandem and mitem675Lord they shall seesine fine,And lift up a songlauda perenneForever with the angels.Alleluia!

Then high over the roofsthe holy Ruler

590Shines on the soulsof the saved and the loyal.

Radiant fowlsfollow around him

Brightest of birds,in bliss exulting,

The chosen and joyous onesjoin him at home,

Forever and ever,where no evil is wrought

595By the foulest fiendin his fickle deceit;

But they shall live in lastinglight and beauty,

As the Phœnix fowl,in the faith of God.

Every one of men’s worksin that wondrous home,

In that blissful abode,brightly shines forth

600In the peaceful presenceof the Prince eternal,

Who resembles the sun.A sacred crown

Most richly wroughtwith radiant gems,

High over the headof each holy soul

Glitters refulgent;their foreheads gleam,

605Covered with glory;the crown of God

Embellishes beautifullythe blessed host

With light in that life,where lasting joy

Is fresh and youngand fades not away,

But they dwell in bliss,adorned in beauty,

610With fairest ornaments,with the Father’s angels.

They see no sorrowin those sacred courts,

No sin nor sufferingnor sad work-days,

No burning hunger,nor bitter thirst,

No evil nor age:but ever their King

615Granteth his graceto the glorious band

That loves its Lordand everlasting King,

That glorifies and praisesthe power of God.

That host round the holyhigh-set throne

Makes then melodyin mighty strains;

620The blessed saintsblithely sing

In unison with angels,orisons to the Lord:

“Peace to thee, O God,thou proud Monarch,

Thou Ruler reigningwith righteousness and skill;

Thanks for thy goodlygifts to us all;

625Mighty and measurelessis thy majesty and strength,

High and holy!The heavens, O Lord,

Are fairly filled,O Father Almighty,

Glory of glories,in greatness ruling

Among angels aboveand on earth beneath!

630Guard us, O God of creation;thou governest all things!

Lord of the highestheavens above!”

So shall the saintssing his praises,

Those free from sin,in that fairest of cities,

Proclaim his power,the righteous people,

635The host in heavenhail the Redeemer:

Honor without endis only for him,

Not ever at allhad he any birth,

Any beginning of bliss,though he was born in the world,

On this earth in the imageof an innocent child;

640With unfailing justiceand fairest judgments,

High above the heavensin holiness he dwelt!

Though he must endurethe death of the cross,

Bear the bitterburden of men,

When three days have passedafter the death of his body,

645He regains new lifethrough the love of God,

Through the aid of the Father.So the Phœnix betokens

In his youthful state,the strength of Christ,

Who in a wondrous wiseawakes from the ashes

Unto the life of life,with limbs begirded;

650So the Saviorsought to aid us

Through the loss of his body,life without end.

Likewise that fowlfilleth his wings,

Loads them with sweetand scented roots,

With winsome flowersand flies away;

655These are the words,wise men tell us,

The songs of the holy oneswhose souls go to heaven,

With the loving Lordto live for aye,

In bliss of bliss,where they bring to God

Their words and their works,wondrous in savor,

660As a precious gift,in that glorious place,

In that life of light.

Lasting be the praise

Through the world of worldsand wondrous honor,

And royal powerin the princely realm,

The kingdom of heaven.He is King indeed

665Of the lands belowand of lordly majesty,

Encircled with honorin that city of beauty.

He has given us leavelucis auctor,

That here we maymerueri

As reward for goodgaudia in celo,

670That all of us maymaxima regna

Seek and sit onsedibus altis,

Shall live a lifelucis et pacis,

Shall own a homealmae letitiae,

Know blessings and bliss;blandem and mitem

675Lord they shall seesine fine,

And lift up a songlauda perenne

Forever with the angels.Alleluia!

680.This and the following lines are imitated from the original in which the first half line, in Old English, alliterates with the second half line, in Latin. The Latin is here retained. The meaning of the lines is this: “The Author of light has given us leave that we may here merit as a reward for good, joy in heaven, that all of us may seek the mighty kingdom and sit on the high seats, may live a life of light and peace, may own a home of tender joy; may see the merciful and mild Lord for time without end, and may lift up a song in eternal praise, forever with the angels. Alleluia!”

Back to Index Next