2. GNOMIC GROUP
CHARMS
[Edition used: Kluge, Angelsächsisches Lesebuch.
Critical edition and discussion of most of the charms: Felix Grendon, Journal of American Folk-lore, xxii, 105 ff. See that article for bibliography.
Grendon divides the charms into five classes:
1. Exorcisms of diseases and disease spirits. 2. Herbal charms. 3. Charms for transferring disease. 4. Amulet charms. 5. Charm remedies.
These charms contain some of the most interesting relics of the old heathen religion of the Anglo-Saxons incongruously mingled with Christian practices. They were probably written down at so late a time that the churchmen felt they could no longer do harm.]
I. For Bewitched Land
Here is the remedy by which thou mayst improve thy fields if they will not produce well or if any evil thing is done to them by means of sorcery or witchcraft:
5 Take at night, before daybreak, four pieces of turf from the four corners of the land and mark the places where they have stood. Take then oil and honey and yeast and the milk of every kind of cattle that is on that land and a piece of every kind of tree that is grown 10 on that land, except hard wood, and a piece of every kind of herb known by name, except burdock alone. Then put holy water on these and dip it thrice in the base of the turfs and say these words: Crescite, grow, et multiplicamini, and multiply, et replete, and fill, terram, 15 this earth, in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti sint benedicti; and Pater Noster as often as anything else.
Then carry the turfs to the church and have the priest sing four masses over them and have the green sides 20 turned toward the altar. Then bring them back before sunset to the place where they were at first. Now make four crosses of aspen and write on the end of each Matheus and Marcus and Lucas and Johannes. Lay the crosses on the bottom of each hole and then say: 25 Crux Matheus, crux Marcus, crux Lucas, crux Sanctus Johannes. Then take the sods and lay them on top and say nine times the word Crescite, and the Pater Noster as often. Turn then to the east and bow humbly nine times and say these words:
30 [Eastward I stand], for honors I pray;
I pray to the God of glory; I pray to the gracious Lord;
I pray to the high and holy Heavenly Father;
I pray to the earth and all of the heavens,
And to the true and virtuous virgin Saint Mary,
35 And to the high hall of Heaven and its power,
That with God’s blessing I may unbind this spell
With my open teeth, and through trusty thought
May awaken the growth for our worldly advantage,
May fill these fields by fast belief,
40 May improve this planting, for the prophet saith
That he hath honors on earth whose alms are free,
Who wisely gives, by the will of God.
Then turn three times following the course of the sun, stretch thyself prostrate, and chant the litanies. 45 Then say Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus through to the end. Then chant Benedicte with outstretched arms, and the Magnificat and Pater Noster three times and commend thy prayer to the praise and glory of Christ and Saint Mary and the Holy Rood, and to the honor 50 of him who owns the land and to all those that are subject to him. When all this is done, get some unknown seed from beggars, and give them twice as much as thou takest from them. Then gather all thy plowing gear together and bore a hole in the beam and put in 55 it incense and fennel and consecrated soap and consecrated salt. Take the seed and put it on the body of the plow, and then say:
[Erce], Erce, Erce, of earth the mother,
May he graciously grant thee, God Eternal,
60 To have fertile fields and fruitful harvests,
Growing in profit and gaining in power;
A host of products and harvests in plenty,
Bright with the broad barley harvest;
And heavy with the white harvest of wheat,
65 And all the harvest of the earth. May the Almighty Lord grant
And all his saints who are seated in heaven,
That against all of the enemies this earth may be guarded,
Protected and made proof against the powers of evil,
Against sorceries and spells dispersed through the land.
70 Now I pray to the Power who planned the creation
That no woman of witchcraft, no worker of magic,
May change or unspell the charm I have spoken.
Then drive forth the plow and turn the first furrow and say:
75 Hail to thee, Earth, [of all men the mother],
Be goodly thy growth in God’s embrace,
Filled with food as a favor to men.
Then take meal of every kind and bake a loaf as broad as it will lie between the two hands, kneading 80 it with milk and with holy water, and lay it under the first furrow. Say then:
Full be the field with food for mankind,
Blossoming brightly. Blessed by thou
By the holy name of Heaven’s Creator,
85 And the maker of Earth, which men inhabit.
May God who created the ground grant us growing gifts,
That each kernel of corn may come to use.
Say then three times, Crescite in nomine patris, sint benedicti. Amen and Pater Noster three times.
[30.] Irregularities in the meter in the translations are imitations of similar irregularities in the original.
[58.] Erce: probably the name of an old Teutonic deity, the Mother of Earth. This reference is all we have to preserve the name.
[75.] The conception of a goddess as Mother of Earth and of Earth as Mother of Men is entirely pagan. This charm is a peculiar complex of Christian and pagan ideas.
II. Against a Sudden Stitch
Against a [sudden stitch] take feverfew, and the red nettle that grows through the house, and plantain. Boil in butter.
Loud were they, lo loud, as over the lea they rode;
5 Resolute they were when they rode over the land.
Protect thyself that thy trouble become cured and healed.
Out, little stick, if it still is
I stood under the linden, under the light shield,
Where the mighty women their magic prepared,
10 And they sent their spears spinning and whistling.
But I will send them a spear in return,
Unerringly aim an arrow against them.
Out, little stick, if it still is within!
There sat a smith and a small knife forged
15 . . . . . . . sharply with a stroke of iron.
Out little stick if it still is within!
Six smiths sat and worked their war-spears.
Out, spear! be not in, spear!
If it still is there, the stick of iron,
20 The work of the witches, away it shall melt.
[If] thou wert shot in the skin, or sore wounded in the flesh,
If in the blood thou wert shot, or in the bone thou wert shot,
If in the joint thou wert shot, there will be no jeopardy to your life.
If some deity shot it, or some devil shot it,
25 Or if some witch has shot it, now I am willing to help thee.
This is a remedy for a deity’s shot; this is a remedy for a devil’s shot;
This is a remedy for a witch’s shot. I am willing to help thee.
[Flee] there into the forests . . . . . . .
Be thou wholly healed. Thy help be from God.
30 Then take the knife and put it into the liquid.
[1.] The sudden stitch in the side (or rheumatic pain) is here thought of as coming from the arrows shot by the “mighty women”—the witches.
[21-28.] These irregular lines are imitated from the original.
RIDDLES
[Critical editions: Wyatt, Tupper, and Trautmann. Wyatt (Boston, 1912, Belles Lettres edition) used as a basis for these translations. His numbering is always one lower than the other editions, since he rejects one riddle.
Date: Probably eighth century for most of them.
For translations of other riddles than those here given see Brooke, English Literature from the Beginning to the Norman Conquest, Pancoast and Spaeth, Early English Poems, and Cook and Tinker, Selections from Old English Poetry.
There is no proof as to the authorship. There were probably one hundred of them in the original collection though only about ninety are left. Many of them are translations from the Latin. Some are true folk-riddles and some are learned.
In the riddles we find particulars of Anglo-Saxon life that we cannot find elsewhere. The Cambridge History of English Literature sums their effect up in the following sentence: “Furthermore, the author or authors of the Old English riddles borrow themes from native folk-songs and saga; in their hands inanimate objects become endowed with life and personality; the powers of nature become objects of worship such as they were in olden times; they describe the scenery of their own country, the fen, the river, and the sea, the horror of the untrodden forest, sun and moon engaged in perpetual pursuit of each other, the nightingale and the swan, the plow guided by the ‘gray-haired enemy of the wood,’ the bull breaking up clods left unturned by the plow, the falcon, the arm-companion of æthelings—scenes, events, characters familiar in the England of that day.”]
I. A Storm
[What man is so clever], so crafty of mind,
As to say for a truth who sends me a-traveling?
When I rise in my wrath, raging at times,
Savage is my sound. Sometimes I travel,
5 Go forth among the folk, set fire to their homes
And ravage and rob them; then rolls the smoke
Gray over the gables; great is the noise,
The death-struggle of the stricken. Then I stir up the woods
And the fruitful forests; I fell the trees,
10 I, roofed over with rain, on my reckless journey,
Wandering widely at the will of heaven.
I bear on my back the bodily raiment,
The fortunes of folk, their flesh and their spirits,
Together to sea. Say who may cover me,
15 Or what I am called, who carry this burden?
[1.] Some scholars feel that the first three riddles, all of which describe storms, are in reality one, with three divisions. There is little to indicate whether the scribe thought of them as separate or not.
II. A Storm
At times I travel in tracks undreamed of,
In vasty wave-depths to visit the earth,
The floor of the ocean. Fierce is the sea
. . . . . . . the foam rolls high;
5 The whale-pool roars and rages loudly;
The streams beat the shores, and they sling at times
Great stones and sand on the steep cliffs,
With weeds and waves, while wildly striving
Under the burden of billows on the bottom of ocean
10 The sea-ground I shake. My shield of waters
I leave not ere he lets me who leads me always
In all my travels. Tell me, wise man,
Who was it that drew me from the depth of the ocean
When the streams again became still and quiet,
15 Who before had forced me in fury to rage?
III. A Storm
At times I am fast confined by my Master,
Who sendeth forth under the fertile plain
My broad bosom, but bridles me in.
He drives in the dark a dangerous power
5 To a narrow cave, where crushing my back
Sits the weight of the world. No way of escape
Can I find from the torment; so I tumble about
The homes of heroes. The halls with their gables,
The tribe-dwellings tremble; the trusty walls shake,
10 Steep over the head. Still seems the air
Over all the country and calm the waters,
Till I press in my fury from my prison below,
Obeying His bidding who bound me fast
In fetters at first when he fashioned the world,
15 In bonds and in chains, with no chance of escape
From his power who points out the paths I must follow.
Downward at times I drive the waves,
Stir up the streams; to the strand I press
The flint-gray flood: the foamy wave
20 Lashes the wall. A lurid mountain
Rises on the deep; dark in its trail
Stirred up with the sea a second one comes,
And close to the coast it clashes and strikes
On the lofty hills. Loud soundeth the boat,
25 The shouting of shipmen. Unshaken abide
The stone cliffs steep through the strife of the waters,
The dashing of waves, when the deadly tumult
Crowds to the coast. Of cruel strife
The sailors are certain if the sea drive their craft
30 With its terrified guests on the grim rolling tide;
They are sure that the ship will be shorn of its power,
Be deprived of its rule, and will ride foam-covered
On the ridge of the waves. Then ariseth a panic,
Fear among folk of the force that commands me,
35 Strong on my storm-track. Who shall still that power?
At times I drive through the dark wave-vessels
That ride on my back, and wrench them asunder
And lash them with sea-streams; or I let them again
Glide back together. It is the greatest of noises,
40 Of clamoring crowds, of crashes the loudest,
When clouds as they strive in their courses shall strike
Edge against edge; inky of hue
In flight o’er the folk bright fire they sweat,
A stream of flame; destruction they carry
45 Dark over men with a mighty din.
Fighting they fare. They let fall from their bosom
A deafening rain of rattling liquid,
Of storm from their bellies. In battle they strive,
The awful army; anguish arises,
50 Terror of mind to the tribes of men,
Distress in the strongholds, when the stalking goblins,
The pale ghosts shoot with their sharp weapons.
The fool alone fears not their fatal spears;
But he perishes too if the true God send
55 Straight from above in streams of rain,
Whizzing and whistling the whirlwind’s arrows,
The flying death. Few shall survive
Whom that violent guest in his grimness shall visit.
I always stir up that strife and commotion;
60 Then I bear my course to the battle of clouds,
Powerfully strive and press through the tumult,
Over the bosom of the billows; bursteth loudly
The gathering of elements. Then again I descend
In my helmet of air and hover near the land,
65 And lift on my back the load I must bear,
Minding the mandates of the mighty Lord.
So I, a tried servant, sometimes contend:
Now under the earth; now from over the waves
I drive to the depths; now dropping from heaven,
70 I stir up the streams, or strive to the skies,
Where I war with the welkin. Wide do I travel,
Swift and noisily. Say now my name,
Or who raises me up when rest is denied me,
Or who stays my course when stillness comes to me?
V. A Shield
A lonely warrior, I am wounded with iron,
Scarred with sword-points, sated with battle-play,
Weary of weapons. I have witnessed much fighting,
Much stubborn strife. From the strokes of war
5 I have no hope for help or release
Ere I pass from the world with the proud warrior band.
With brands and billies they beat upon me;
The hard edges hack me; the handwork of smiths
In crowds I encounter; with courage I endure
10 Ever bitterer battles. No balm may I find,
And no doctor to heal me in the whole field of battle,
To bind me with ointments and bring me to health,
But my grievous gashes grow ever sorer
Through death-dealing strokes by day and night.
VII. A Swan
My robe is noiseless when I roam the earth,
Or stay in my home, or stir up the water.
At times I am lifted o’er the lodgings of men
By the aid of my trappings and the air above.
5 The strength of the clouds then carries me far,
Bears me on its bosom. My beautiful ornament,
My raiment rustles and raises a song,
Sings without tiring. I touch not the earth
But wander a stranger over stream and wood.
VIII. A Nightingale
With my mouth I am master of many a language;
Cunningly I carol; I discourse full oft
In melodious lays; loud do I call,
Ever mindful of melody, undiminished in voice.
5 An old evening-scop, to earls I bring
Solace in cities; when, skillful in music,
My voice I raise, restful at home
They sit in silence. Say what is my name,
That call so clearly and cleverly imitate
10 The song of the scop, and sing unto men
Words full welcome with my wonderful voice.
XIV. A Horn
I was once an armed warrior. Now the worthy youth
Gorgeously gears me with gold and silver,
Curiously twisted. At times men kiss me.
Sometimes I sound and summon to battle
5 The stalwart company. A steed now carries me
Across the border. The courser of the sea
Now bears me o’er the billows, bright in my trappings.
[Now a comely maiden] covered with jewels
Fills my bosom with beer. On the board now I lie
10 Lidless and lonely and lacking my trappings.
Now fair in my fretwork at the feast I hang
In my place on the wall while warriors drink.
Now brightened for battle, on the back of a steed
A war-chief shall bear me. Then the wind I shall breathe,
15 Shall swell with sound from someone’s bosom.
At times with my voice I invite the heroes,
The warriors to wine; or I watch for my master,
And sound an alarm and save his goods,
Put the robber to flight. Now find out my name.
[8.] Cosijn’s reading has been adopted for the first half line.
XV. A Badger
My throat is like snow, and my sides and my head
Are a swarthy brown; I am swift in flight.
Battle-weapons I bear; on my back stand hairs,
And also on my cheeks. O’er my eyes on high
5 Two ears tower; with my toes I step
On the green grass. Grief comes upon me
If the slaughter-grim hunter shall see me in hiding,
Shall find me alone where I fashion my dwelling,
Bold with my brood. I abide in this place
10 With my strong young children till a stranger shall come
And bring dread to my door. Death then is certain.
Hence, trembling I carry my terrified children
Far from their home and flee unto safety.
If he crowds me close as he comes behind,
15 I bare my breast. In my burrow I dare not
Meet my furious foe (it were foolish to do so),
But, wildly rushing, I work a road
Through the high hill with my hands and feet.
I fail not in defending my family’s lives;
20 If I lead the little ones below to safety,
Through a secret hole inside the hill,
My beloved brood, no longer need I
Fear the offense of the fierce-battling dogs.
25 Whenever the hostile one hunts on my trail,
Follows me close, he will fail not of conflict,
Of a warm encounter, when he comes on my war-path,
If I reach, in my rage, through the roof of my hill
And deal my deadly [darts] of battle
30 On the foe I have feared and fled from long.
[29.] The “deadly darts of battle” have caused “porcupine” to be proposed as a solution to this riddle, though when all the details are considered “badger” seems on the whole the more reasonable.
XXIII. A Bow
My name is spelled AGOB with the order reversed.
I am marvelously fashioned and made for fighting.
When I am bent and my bosom sends forth
Its poisoned stings, I straightway prepare
5 My deadly darts to deal afar.
As soon as my master, who made me for torment,
Loosens my limbs, my length is increased
Till I vomit the venom with violent motions,
The swift-killing poison I swallowed before.
10 Not any man shall make his escape,
Not one that I spoke of shall speed from the fight,
If there falls on him first what flies from my belly.
He pays with his strength for the poisonous drink,
For the fatal cup which forfeits his life.
15 Except when fettered fast, I am useless.
Unbound I shall fail. Now find out my name.
XXVI. A Bible
[A stern destroyer] struck out my life,
Deprived me of power; he put me to soak,
Dipped me in water, dried me again,
And set me in the sun, where I straightway lost
5 The hairs that I had. Then the hard edge
Of the keen knife cut me and cleansed me of soil;
Then fingers folded me. The fleet quill of the bird
With speedy drops spread tracks often
Over the brown surface, swallowed the tree-dye,
10 A deal of the stream, stepped again on me,
Traveled a black track. With protecting boards
Then a crafty one covered me, enclosed me with hide,
Made me gorgeous with gold. Hence I am glad and rejoice
At the smith’s fair work with its wondrous adornments.
15 Now may these rich trappings, and the red dye’s tracings,
And all works of wisdom spread wide the fame
Of the Sovereign of nations! Read me not as a penance!
If the children of men will cherish and use me,
They shall be safer and sounder and surer of victory,
20 More heroic of heart and happier in spirit,
More unfailing in wisdom. More friends shall they have,
Dear and trusty, and true and good,
And faithful always, whose honors and riches
Shall increase with their love, and who cover their friends
25 With kindness and favors and clasp them fast
With loving arms. I ask how men call me
Who aid them in need. My name is far famed.
I am helpful to men, and am holy myself.
[1.] Here, of course, a “codex,” or manuscript of a Bible is in the writer’s mind. He describes first the killing of the animal and the preparation of the skin for writing. Then the writing and binding of the book is described. Last of all, the writer considers the use the book will be to men.
XLV. Dough
In a corner I heard a curious weak thing
Swelling and sounding and stirring its cover.
On that boneless body a beautiful woman
Laid hold with her hands; the high-swelled thing
She covered with a cloth, the clever lord’s daughter.
XLVII. A Bookworm
A moth ate a word. To me that seemed
A curious happening when I heard of that wonder,
That a worm should swallow the word of a man,
A thief in the dark eat a thoughtful discourse
5 And the strong base it stood on. He stole, but he was not
A whit the wiser when the word had been swallowed.
LX. A Reed
[I stood on the strand] to the sea-cliffs near,
Hard by the billows. To the home of my birth
Fast was I fixed. Few indeed are there
Of men who have ever at any time
5 Beheld my home in the hard waste-land.
In the brown embrace of the billows and waves
I was locked each dawn. Little I dreamed
That early or late I ever should
With men at the mead-feast mouthless speak forth
10 Words of wisdom. It is a wondrous thing,
And strange to the sight when one sees it first
That the edge of a knife and the active hand
And wit of the earl who wields the blade
Should bring it about that I bear unto thee
15 A secret message, meant for thee only,
Boldly announce it, so that no other man
May speak our secrets or spread them abroad.
[1.] This riddle occurs in the manuscript just before [The Husband’s Message], and some editors think that in the riddle we have a proper beginning for the poem. First is the account of the growth of the reed, or block of wood, then the account of its voyages, and last the message conveyed. There is really no way of telling whether the poems were meant to go together.
EXETER GNOMES
[Critical edition: Blanche Colton Williams, Gnomic Poetry in Anglo-Saxon, New York, 1914.
There are two sets of gnomes or proverbs in Old English. The Exeter collection, from which these are taken, consists of three groups. The second group, which contains the justly popular lines about the Frisian wife, is typical of the whole set.]
Group II
All frost shall freeze, fire consume wood,
Earth grow its fruits. Ice shall bridge water,
Which shall carry its cover and cunningly lock
75 The herbs of earth. One only shall loose
The fetter of frost, the Father Almighty.
Winter shall away, the weather be fair,
The sun hot in summer. The sea shall be restless.
The deep way of death is the darkest of secrets.
80 Holly flames on the fire. Afar shall be scattered
The goods of a dead man. Glory is best.
A king shall with cups secure his queen,
Buy her with bracelets. Both shall at first
Be generous with gifts. Then shall grow in the man
85 The pride of war, and his wife shall prosper,
Cherished by the folk; cheerful of mood,
She shall keep all counsel and in kindness of heart
Give horses and treasure; before the train of heroes
With full measure of mead on many occasions
90 She shall lovingly greet her gracious lord,
Shall hold the cup high and hand him to drink
Like a worthy wife. Wisely shall counsel
The two who hold their home together.
The ship shall be nailed, the shield be bound,
95 The light linden-wood.
When he lands in the haven,
To the Frisian wife is the welcome one dear:
The boat is at hand and her bread-winner home,
Her own provider. She invites him in
And washes his sea-stained garments and gives him new ones to wear:
100 It is pleasant on land when the loved one awaits you.
Woman shall be wedded to man, and her wickedness oft shall disgrace him;
Some are firm in their faith, some forward and curious
And shall love a stranger while their lord is afar.
A sailor is long on his course, but his loved one awaits his coming,
105 Abides what can not be controlled, for the time will come at last
For his home return, if his health permit, and the heaving waters
High over his head do not hold him imprisoned.
THE FATES OF MEN
[Text: Grein-Wülcker, Bibliothek der Angelsächischen Poesie, iii, 148. The poem is typical of a large group of Old English poems which give well-known sayings or proverbs. Other poems of this group are The Gifts of Men, The Wonders of Creation, A Father’s Instructions to His Son, and the like.]
Full often through the grace of God it happens
That man and wife to the world bring forth
A babe by birth; they brightly adorn it,
And tend it and teach it till the time comes on
5 With the passing of years when the young child’s limbs
Have grown in strength and sturdy grace.
It is fondled and fed by father and mother
And gladdened with gifts. God alone knows
What fate shall be his in the fast-moving years.
10 To one it chances in his childhood days
To be snatched away by sudden death
In woeful wise. The wolf shall devour him,
The hoary heath-dweller. Heart-sick with grief,
His mother shall mourn him; but man cannot change it.
15 One of hunger shall starve; one the storm shall drown.
One the spear shall pierce; one shall perish in war.
One shall lead his life without light in his eyes,
Shall feel his way fearing. Infirm in his step,
One his wounds shall bewail, his woeful pains—
20 Mournful in mind shall lament his fate.
One from the top of a tree in the woods
Without feathers shall fall, but he flies none the less,
Swoops in descent till he seems no longer
The forest tree’s fruit: at its foot on the ground
25 He sinks in silence, his soul departed—
On the roots now lies his lifeless body.
One shall fare afoot on far-away paths,
Shall bear on his back his burdensome load,
Tread the dewy track among tribes unfriendly
30 Amid foreign foemen. Few are alive
To welcome the wanderer. The woeful face
Of the hapless outcast is hateful to men.
One shall end life on the lofty gallows;
Dead shall he hang till the house of his soul,
35 His bloody body is broken and mangled:
His eyes shall be plucked by the plundering raven,
The sallow-hued spoiler, while soulless he lies,
And helpless to fight with his hands in defense
Against the grim thief. Gone is his life.
40 With his skin plucked off and his soul departed,
The body all bleached shall abide its fate;
The death-mist shall drown him— doomed to disgrace.
The body of one shall burn on the fire;
The flame shall feed on the fated man,
45 And death shall descend full sudden upon him
In the lurid glow. Loud weeps the mother
As her boy in the brands is burned to ashes.
One the sword shall slay as he sits in the mead-hall
Angry with ale; it shall end his life,
50 Wine-sated warrior: his words were too reckless!
One shall meet his death through the drinking of beer,
Maddened with mead, when no measure he sets
To the words of his mouth through wisdom of mind;
He shall lose his life in loathsome wise,
55 Shall shamefully suffer, shut off from joy,
And men shall know him by the name of self-slayer,
Shall deplore with their mouths the mead-drinker’s fall.
One his hardships of youth through the help of God
Overcomes and brings his burdens to naught,
60 And his age when it comes shall be crowned with joy;
He shall prosper in pleasure, in plenty and wealth,
With flourishing family and flowing mead—
For such worthy rewards may one well wish to live!
Thus many the fortunes the mighty Lord
65 All over the earth to everyone grants,
Dispenses powers as his pleasure shall lead him.
One is favored with fortune; one failure in life;
One pleasure in youth; one prowess in war,
The sternest of strife; one in striking and shooting
70 Earns his honors. And often in games
One is crafty and cunning. A clerk shall one be,
Weighted with wisdom. Wonderful skill
Is one granted to gain in the goldsmith’s art;
Full often he decks and adorns in glory
75 A great king’s noble, who gives him rewards,
Grants him broad lands, which he gladly receives.
One shall give pleasure to people assembled
On the benches at beer, shall bring to them mirth,
Where drinkers are draining their draughts of joy.
80 One holding his harp in his hands, at the feet
Of his lord shall sit and receive a reward;
Fast shall his fingers fly o’er the strings;
Daringly dancing and darting across,
With his nails he shall pluck them. His need is great.
85 One shall make tame the towering falcon,
The hawk on his hand, till the haughty bird
Grows quiet and gentle; jesses he makes him,
Feeds in fetters the feather-proud hawk,
The daring air-treader with daintiest morsels,
90 Till the falcon performs the feeder’s will:
Hooded and belled, he obeys his master,
Tamed and trained as his teacher desires.
Thus in wondrous wise the Warden of Glory
Through every land has allotted to men
95 Cunning and craft; his decrees go forth
To all men on earth of every race.
For the graces granted let us give him thanks—
For his manifold mercies to the men of earth.