What a dream I dreamt last night!
I dreamt it in the dark, at deep midnight,
when men bring speech to bed.
It seems I saw the strangest tree
lifted aloft, wound in light,
a brightest tree, a beacon wholly
garbed in gold; on the ground gems
made the fallen earth fair. And five shone
on the axle-beam. All beheld an angel
fair for all the future. No fiend’s cross, this;
witnesses the world over, this wide creation,
whoever beheld it saw holy ghosts.
A wondrous, winning tree—and I wounded with sins.
The wonder-tree wore, worthily,
a gold garment that gleamed. Jewels
enriched that treasure, this royal tree.
But through the gold I gleaned the truth
of wretchedness, wars, and strife: it began
to bleed on its right side. Sorrow riveted me,
and fear. I saw that fair sign
change cloak and color, succumbing to moisture,
dressed in riches but drenched dark with blood.
I lay there a long time.
Sadly I saw the Savior’s tree,
then heard it speak hard words—
this brilliant tree began to talk:
“Years and years ago—I yet remember—
they cut me down, felled me at the forest’s edge,
wrenched me from my roots. Rude villains took me,
made me a sideshow, and set me to hoisting
their criminals. They carried me on cold shoulders
until those fiends fastened me on a hill.
I saw the God of all men hurry, hoping to climb me.
I dared not disobey the divine word:
I neither bent nor broke when the world buckled,
the earth’s face fractured. All fiends
I could have felled, but I stood fast.
The young Savior stripped stark naked—yes, God almighty—
stronghearted and stern, he strode up the high cross,
a daring sight, desiring to redeem mankind.
I shook at that Hero’s embrace. I didn’t dare bend
or fall to the earth’s face. I stood fast.
I was a cross constructed to raise the King,
heaven’s Lord: I didn’t dare bend.
They drove dark nails through me: see my deep wounds,
dripping devil’s wounds! I dared not hurt any of them,
although they blasphemed both of us. Blood drenched me
from that Man’s side after he sent up his spirit.
“On that hill I suffered
the cruelest crimes: I saw the God of hosts cruelly racked.
Dark clouds covered the Ruler’s corpse,
that shining splendor: shadow crawled,
black under clouds. All creation wept,
cried at the King’s fall: Christ was on the cross.
“Eagerly, from far away, all of them came
to the Prince: I saw it all.
Sorrows struck me sore. I bowed down
humbly to human hands. I was brave.
They took their almighty God and lifted him
from heavy hurt. The soldiers let me
stand blood-spattered; I was shot through with arrows.
They laid him down limb-weary and stood watch at his head;
they beheld heaven’s Lord, who paused to rest,
war-weary. They worked at his earth-home,
men in the murderer’s sight carving in bright marble.
They set him in stone—victorious jewel—and sang sorrow’s song,
men mourning at eventide. They meant to go,
weary from the wondrous Lord; hardly one was left.
But we wept a good while
and stood stonelike after the song rose
from the gone warriors. The corpse grew cold,
that lovely life-house. Then a man
felled me fully to earth—an awful fate!
He buried me in an abyss, but believers in the Lord,
true friends, found me and festooned me
in gold and silver.
“Now listen, my lovely liegeman,
how I have endured evil men’s work
and sore sorrows. Soon comes the time
when folk from far and wide across the earth
will journey to me, join with this joyous creation
to celebrate this symbol. On me God’s Son
suffered a time of torment; now I tower
holy under heaven, and I can heal
everyone in awe of me.
I have had hardest pains. People hated me,
before I ripped open the right route to those who speak.
The high Prince, heaven’s Warder,
then honored me over all other trees
as he also honored his mother Mary
over all womankind, for all humans.
“Today, my darling man, I demand
you reveal this vision in words to men:
reveal in true verbs I am a glory-tree
on which the almighty God of men was mangled
for mankind’s many misdeeds
and Adam’s ancient errors.
He tasted death there; but the Lord rose aloft
with his whole might as a help to man.
Then he ascended. And soon again God himself
will mark out this middle-earth
to seek mankind on Judgement Day,
God almighty and his angels with him,
who then will judge and wield judgements
as each and every one shall have earned
here earlier in this ever-ending life.
None can feel free from fear
of the words the world’s Ruler will say:
he will question the many, Where is that man
who dares death’s bitter taste
in the Lord’s name, as the Lord once knew on the tree?
But they will fret, afraid. Few will know
what sinners should start to say to Christ.
Nor need any know fright
who bears in his breast this best symbol,
for everyone in this earth-way, each soul
who dreams of dwelling with the Ruler
must seek that rich realm through the rood.”
Happy-hearted, I prayed to the tree
with wild devotion, where I
stood a single soldier. My soul
felt forced forward, suffering
this long time of longing. Now life’s joy
means I may myself seek this winning tree
most often on my own of all men,
and eagerly honor it: in my heart that
deep desire dwells, and my protection
I direct to the rood. I retain
few mighty friends on earth; they went forth
from worldly wealth and worry and sought the King;
happy in heaven with the High Father,
they glow in glory, and I look to go
day after day, calling on the Lord’s cross,
which I beheld and heard here on earth,
to translate me from this transient life
and bring me to bliss,
happiness in heaven, where the Lord’s host
feasts, where bliss never fails,
and I may ever after
dwell in glory, and with the saints
enjoy full joy. May the Lord be my friend
who here on earth once ached
on the gallows-tree for man’s sins:
he redeemed us and gave us life,
a heavenly home.
…………………………He renewed happiness
and blessing with balm to those who burned:
the Son saved them on that harrowing expedition,
speeding spirits with his great
army of angels to the Almighty’s kingdom,
the all-Ruler bringing all to bliss,
all the saints, ever after in heaven,
dwelling in glory when their Ruler,
almighty God, came where his kingdom was.
The Dream of the Rood
Hwæt, iċ swefna cyst secgan wylle,
hwæt mē ġemǣtte tō midre nihte
syðþan reordberend reste wunedon.
Þūhte mē þæt iċ ġesāwe syllicre trēow
on lyft lǣdan, lēohte bewunden,
bēama beorhtost. Eall þæt bēacen wæs
begoten mid golde; ġimmas stōdon
fæġere æt foldan scēatum; swylċe þǣr fīfe wǣron
uppe on þām eaxleġespanne. Behēoldon þǣr enġel Dryhtnes ealle
fæġere þurh forðġesceaft. Ne wæs ðǣr hūru fracodes ġealga,
ac hine þǣr behēoldon hāliġe gāstas,
men ofer moldan, ond eall þēos mǣre ġesceaft.
Sylliċ wæs se siġebēam ond iċ synnum fāh,
forwunded mid wommum. Ġeseah iċ wuldres trēow
wǣdum ġeweorðode, wynnum scīnan,
ġeġyred mid golde; ġimmas hæfdon
bewriġene weorðlīċe Wealdendes trēow.
Hwæðre iċ þurh þæt gold onġytan meahte
earmra ǣrġewin, þæt hit ǣrest ongan
swǣtan on þā swīðran healfe. Eall iċ wæs mid sorgum ġedrēfed;
forht iċ wæs for þǣre fæġran ġesyhðe. Ġeseah iċ þæt fūse bēacen
wendan wǣdum ond blēom; hwīlum hit wæs mid wǣtan bestēmed,
beswyled mid swātes gange, hwīlum mid since ġeġyrwed.
Hwæðre iċ þǣr licgende lange hwīle
behēold hrēowċeariġ Hǣlendes trēow,
oð ðæt iċ ġehȳrde þæt hit hlēoðrode.
Ongan þā word sprecan wudu sēlesta:
Þæt wæs ġeāra iū (iċ þæt ġȳta ġeman)
þæt iċ wæs āhēawen holtes on ende,
āstyred of stefne mīnum. Ġenāman mē ðǣr strange fēondas,
ġeworhton him þǣr tō wǣfersȳne, hēton mē heora wergas hebban.
Bǣron mē ðǣr beornas on eaxlum oð ðæt hīe mē on beorg āsetton;
ġefæstnodon mē þǣr fēondas ġenōge. Ġeseah iċ þā Frēan mancynnes
efstan elne myċle þæt hē mē wolde on ġestīgan.
Þǣr iċ þā ne dorste ofer Dryhtnes word
būgan oððe berstan, þā iċ bifian ġeseah
eorðan scēatas. Ealle iċ mihte
fēondas ġefyllan, hwæðre iċ fæste stōd.
Onġyrede hine þā ġeong hæleð – þæt wæs God ælmihtiġ,
strang ond stīðmōd. Ġestāh hē on ġealgan hēanne,
mōdiġ on maniġra ġesyhðe, þā hē wolde mancyn lȳsan.
Bifode iċ þā mē se beorn ymbclypte. Ne dorste iċ hwæðre būgan tō eorðan,
feallan tō foldan scēatum, ac iċ sceolde fæste standan.
Rōd wæs iċ ārǣred. Āhōf iċ rīċne Cyning,
heofona Hlāford, hyldan mē ne dorste.
Þurhdrifan hī mē mid deorcan næġlum. On mē syndon þā dolg ġesīene
opene inwidhlemmas. Ne dorste iċ hira nǣnigum sceððan.
Bysmeredon hīe unc būtū ætgædere. Eall iċ wæs mid blōde bestēmed,
begoten of þæs guman sīdan siððan hē hæfde his gāst onsended.
Feala iċ on þām beorge ġebiden hæbbe
wrāðra wyrda. Ġeseah iċ weruda God
þearle þenian. Þȳstro hæfdon
bewriġen mid wolcnum Wealdendes hrǣw,
scīrne scīman; sceadu forðēode
wann under wolcnum. Wēop eal ġesceaft,
cwīðdon Cyninges fyll. Crist wæs on rōde.
Hwæðere þǣr fūse feorran cwōman
tō þām æðelinge; iċ þæt eall behēold.
Sāre iċ wæs mid sorgum ġedrēfed; hnāg iċ hwæðre þām secgum tō handa,
ēaðmōd, elne myċle. Ġenāmon hīe þǣr ælmihtiġne God,
āhōfon hine of ðām hefian wīte. Forlēton mē þā hilderincas
standan stēame bedrifenne. Eall iċ wæs mid strǣlum forwundod.
Ālēdon hīe ðǣr limwēriġne, ġestōdon him æt his līċes hēafdum;
behēoldon hīe ðǣr heofenes Dryhten, ond hē hine ðǣr hwīle reste,
mēðe æfter ðām miċlan ġewinne. Ongunnon him þā moldern wyrċan
beornas on banan ġesyhðe. Curfon hīe ðæt of beorhtan stāne;
ġesetton hīe ðǣron sigora Wealdend. Ongunnon him þā sorhlēoð galan
earme on þā ǣfentīde. Þā hīe woldon eft sīðian
mēðe fram þām mǣran þēodne; reste hē ðǣr mǣte weorode.
Hwæðere wē ðǣr grēotende gōde hwīle
stōdon on staðole syððan stefn ūp ġewāt
hilderinca. Hrǣw cōlode
fæġer feorgbold. Þā ūs man fyllan ongan
ealle tō eorðan. Þæt wæs eġesliċ wyrd!
Bedealf ūs man on dēopan sēaþe; hwæðre mē þǣr Dryhtnes þeġnas,
frēondas ġefrūnon,
ġyredon mē golde ond seolfre.
Nū ðū miht ġehȳran, hæleð mīn se lēofa,
þæt iċ bealuwara weorc ġebiden hæbbe,
sārra sorga. Is nū sǣl cumen
þæt mē weorðiað wīde ond sīde
menn ofer moldan ond eall þēos mǣre ġesceaft,
ġebiddaþ him tō þyssum bēacne. On mē bearn Godes
þrōwode hwīle; for þan iċ þrymfæst nū
hlīfiġe under heofenum, ond iċ hǣlan mæġ
ǣġhwylċne ānra þāra þe him bið eġesa tō mē.
Iū iċ wæs ġeworden wīta heardost,
lēodum lāðost, ǣr þan iċ him līfes weġ
rihtne ġerȳmde reordberendum.
Hwæt, mē þā ġeweorðode wuldres Ealdor
ofer holtwudu, heofonriċes Weard,
swylċe swā hē his mōdor ēac, Marian sylfe,
ælmihtiġ God for ealle menn
ġeweorðode ofer eall wīfa cynn.
Nū iċ þē hāte, hæleð mīn se lēofa,
þæt ðū þās ġesyhðe secge mannum,
onwrēoh wordum þæt hit is wuldres bēam
se ðe ælmihtiġ God on þrōwode
for mancynnes manegum synnum
ond Adomes ealdġewyrhtum.
Dēað hē þǣr byriġde; hwæðere eft Dryhten ārās
mid his miċlan mihte mannum tō helpe.
Hē ðā on heofenas āstāg, hider eft fundaþ
on þysne middanġeard mancynn sēċan
on dōmdæġe Dryhten sylfa,
ælmihtiġ God ond his enġlas mid,
þæt hē þonne wile dēman, se āh dōmes ġeweald,
ānra ġehwylcum swā hē him ǣrur hēr
on þyssum lǣnum līfe ġeearnaþ.
Ne mæġ þǣr ǣniġ unforht wesan
for þām worde þe se Wealdend cwyð.
Frīneð hē for þǣre mæniġe hwǣr se man sīe,
se ðe for Dryhtnes naman dēaðes wolde
biteres onbyriġan, swā hē ǣr on ðām bēame dyde.
Ac hīe þonne forhtiað, ond fēa þenċaþ
hwæt hīe tō Criste cweðan onġinnen.
Ne þearf ðǣr þonne ǣniġ anforht wesan
þe him ǣr in brēostum bereð bēacna sēlest,
ac ðurh ðā rōde sceal rīċe ġesēċan
of eorðweġe ǣġhwylċ sāwl
sēo þe mid Wealdende wunian þenċeð.
Ġebæd iċ mē þā tō þan bēame blīðe mōde,
elne myċle, þǣr iċ āna wæs
mǣte werede. Wæs mōdsefa
āfȳsed on forðweġe; feala ealra ġebād
langunghwīla. Is mē nū līfes hyht
þæt iċ þone siġebēam sēċan mōte
āna oftor þonne ealle men,
well weorþian. Mē is willa tō ðām
myċel on mōde, ond mīn mundbyrd is
ġeriht tō þǣre rōde. Nāh iċ rīċra feala
frēonda on foldan, ac hīe forð heonon
ġewiton of worulde drēamum, sōhton him wuldres Cyning,
lifiaþ nū on heofenum mid hēahfædere,
wuniaþ on wuldre, ond iċ wēne mē
daga ġehwylċe hwænne mē Dryhtnes rōd
þe iċ hēr on eorðan ǣr scēawode
on þysson lǣnan līfe ġefetiġe
ond mē þonne ġebringe þǣr is blis myċel,
drēam on heofonum, þǣr is Dryhtnes folc
ġeseted tō symle, þǣr is singal blis,
ond mē þonne āsette þǣr iċ syþþan mōt
wunian on wuldre, well mid þām hālgum
drēames brūcan. Sī mē Dryhten frēond,
se ðe hēr on eorþan ǣr þrōwode
on þām ġealgtrēowe for guman synnum.
Hē ūs onlȳsde ond ūs līf forġeaf
heofonlicne hām. Hiht wæs ġenīwad
mid blēdum ond mid blisse þām þe þǣr bryne þolodan.
Se Sunu wæs sigorfæst on þām sīðfate,
mihtiġ ond spēdiġ þā hē mid maniġeo cōm,
gāsta weorode, on Godes rīċe,
Anwealda ælmihtiġ, enġlum tō blisse
ond eallum ðām hālgum þām þe on heofonum ǣr
wunedon on wuldre þā heora Wealdend cwōm,
ælmihtiġ God, þǣr his ēðel wæs.