After these words those brothers knelt and prayed,
Those thanes of glory, and they sent their prayer
Up to the Son of God; and Matthew too
Within the prison called upon his God, 1030
Sought from the Savior succor and relief
Before he should be slain by battle-might
Of heathen men. Then from the prison strong,
Freed from their bonds, protected by the Lord,
He led two hundred men and forty-eight
Rescued from woe; not one he left behind
Within the prison-walls fast bound in chains;
And women too, besides this multitude,
Fifty less one he saved, o'erwhelmed with fear. 1040
Glad were they to depart, in haste they went,
Nor waited longer in that house of woe
The outcome of the struggle. Matthew went
Leading that multitude, as Andrew bade,
Under God's keeping; on that longed-for way
He covered them with clouds, lest enemies,
Their ancient foes, should come to work them harm
With arrows' flight; there did those valiant saints
Take counsel with each other, faithful friends,
Before they parted; each of those brave men 1050
Stablished the other with the hope of heaven;
The pains of hell they warded off by words.
So did the warriors with them, battle-brave,
Tried champions, with their holy voices praise
The Lord of fate, whose glory ne'er shall end.
Glad-hearted, Andrew walked about the town
Unto the place where he had heard was met
A concourse of his cruel enemies, 1060
Until he found beside the border-path
A brazen pillar standing near the road.
He sat him by its side; pure love had he
And contemplation high, the angels' bliss;
There waited he, within the city-walls,
What deed of war should be vouchsafed to him.
Then gathered straight the leaders of the folk
Their mighty troops; unto the prison strong
The faithless host of heathen warriors
Came fully armed, where late their captive thralls 1070
Had suffered woe within the prison mirk.
They weened and wished, those stubborn-hearted foes,
That they might make those foreign men their meat,
Food for the multitude; their hope was vain,
For, coming with their troops, those spearmen fierce
Found prison-doors wide open, and the work
Of hammers all unloosed, the watchmen dead.
So back they turned, those luckless warriors,
Robbed of their joy, to bear the tidings sad;
They told the folk that of the stranger men, 1080
The men of foreign speech, not one they found
Remaining in that prison-house alive;
But there upon the ground all stained with gore,
Lifeless the watchmen lay, robbed of their souls,
Mere slaughtered bodies. At that sudden news
Dismayed was many a captain of the host,
Sad and cast down at thoughts of famine stern,
That pale guest at the board. No better way
They knew than on the dead to make their feast
For their own sustenance; in a single hour 1090
The bed of death was spread by cruel fate
For all those watchmen.
Then, as I have heard,
A gathering of the townsmen was proclaimed;
The heroes came, a host of warriors
Riding on horses, brave men on their steeds
Exchanging speech; skilled were they at the spear.
So in the meeting-place the people all
Were gathered, and they bade the lot decide
Among them, who should first give up his life 1100
For food unto the rest; they cast the lots
With hellish craft; before their heathen gods
They counted them. Behold, the lot did fall
Upon an aged chieftain, one who was
A counselor among the noble lords,
In front rank of the host. Soon was he bound
In fetters fast, despairing of his life.
Then cried that chieftain fierce with voice of woe,
Proclaiming he would give his own young son
Into their power as ransom for his life. 1110
With thankful hearts they took his offering,
For greedily they lusted after food,
Sad-minded men; no joy had they in wealth,
Nor hope in hoarded riches; they were sore
Oppressed with hunger, for the famine dire
Held cruel sway. Then many a warrior
And hero battle-bold was fired in heart
To struggle for the life of that young man;
The sign of woe was published far and wide
Throughout the town to many a hero brave, 1120
That they should seek in troops the young man's death,
That, young and old, they should receive their share
As food to keep their lives. The heathen priests
Straightway collected there a multitude
Of dwellers in that town; loud shouts arose.
Bound there before the throng the youth began
To sing with mournful voice a song of woe;
The wretched thrall begged succor of his friends;
But no relief nor mercy could he find
From that fierce folk to give him back his life. 1130
Those monstrous fiends had sought hostility;
It was their purpose that the sword's sharp edge
Made hard by blows, and stained with marks of fire,
In foeman's hand should take his life away.
But Andrew thought it grievous, hard to bear,
A public wrong, that one so innocent
Should forthwith lose his life. That people's hate
Was very fierce; the warriors, valiant thanes 1140
Lusting for murder, rushed upon the youth;
They wished straightway to break his head with spears.
But God, the Holy One, from heaven above
Defended him against the heathen throng;
He bade their weapons melt away like wax
In the fierce onset, that his bitter foes
Should scathe him not with might of hostile swords.
So from his woe and from that people's hate
The youth was loosed. To God, the Lord of lords, 1150
Be thanks for all, because He giveth might
To every man who wisely seeketh aid
From Him on high! There is eternal peace
Ever prepared for those who can attain.
Then in that town was lamentation heard,
Loud outcry of the throng; heralds proclaimed
And mourned the lack of food; there stood they sad,
Held fast by hunger; the high-towering halls—
Their wine-halls—all were empty; they possessed
No wealth to enjoy at that unhappy hour. 1160
The wise men sat apart in council sad,
Talked of their woe; no joy was in their land.
Thus would one hero oft another ask:—
"Let him who has good counsel in his heart,
And wisdom, hide it not! The hour is come
Exceeding woful; great is now the need
That we should hear the words of prudent men."
Then to that band the Devil straight appeared
All black and ugly, and he had the form
Of one accursed. The Prince of death began, 1170
The limping imp of hell, with wicked heart
To accuse the holy man; this word he spake:—
"A certain prince is come into your town,
A stranger journeying from a distant land;
Andrew I heard him called. He worked you scath
But lately, when he led a company
Great beyond measure from your prison strong;
And now these deeds of harm ye may with ease
Wreak on their author; let your weapons' point, 1180
Your hard-edged iron, hew his body down,
Doomed to destruction. Go now boldly forth,
That ye may overcome your foe in war."
Straightway did Andrew answer him again:—
"Why dost thou impudently teach this folk,
And urge them unto battle? Hast thou felt
The fiery torment hot in hell, and yet
Leadest an army forth, a troop to war?
Thou art a foe to God, the Lord of hosts;
Why dost thou thus heap up thy wretchedness?
Shaft of the devil, whom Almighty God 1190
Bent humble down and into darkness hurled,
Where the King of kings did cover thee with chains;
And they who keep the covenant of God
Have called thee Satan ever since that hour."
Again the Adversary by his words,
With fiendish craft urged on the folk to fight:—
"Now do you hear the foeman of your tribe,
Him who has wrought most harm unto this host!
Andrew it is, who thus disputes with me
In cunning words before the throng of men." 1200
Then to the townsmen was the signal given;