Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SAINT BRANDAN, by ANONYMOUS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SAINT BRANDAN, by                    
First Line: "saint brandan, that same holy man, he lived in this, our land"
Last Line: "god bring us to that self-same joy that this, his saint, doth know! Amen"
Subject(s): "brendan, Saint (484-578);" "brendan Of Clonfert;brandan, Saint;brandon, Saint;brennainn, Saint;brendan The Voyager;


SAINT BRANDAN, that same holy man, he lived in this, our land,
A monk he was of strictest life, so do I understand,
In fasting and in penance lived, and Abbot was he there,
Over a thousand monks held rule, who all beneath him were.
And as it fell upon a day, by God's will and decree,
Another abbot came to him, Beryn by name was he;
Saint Brandan prayed of him anon that he would say that tide
What things soe'er he might have seen in other countries wide.
Then the good man, on hearing this, began to sigh eftsoon,
For heavy thought began to weep, and fell adown in swoon.
Between his arms Saint Brandan took that good man, at that same,
And kissed him oft, and called on him, till to himself he came.
"Father" he said, "for charity thou other rede must take,
Here for our solace art thou come, and not such dole to make;
Tell us the things that thou hast seen, as thou afar didst wend
Upon the seas of Ocean wide, where Our Lord did thee send." --
(Now is the sea of Ocean the greatest sea of all
The world it doth encircle, and all waters to it fall --)
With that beryn, the aged man, e'en from his heart so deep,
He told them all that he had found, the while he needs must weep.
He said he had a right good son, and Mernok was his name,
"A monk he was, e'en as we be, therewith a man of fame;
His heart, it urged him forth to wend, to privy place and still,
Wherein he might dwell all alone, and thus might serve God's Will.
Thus by my will did he go forth, e'en as I tell ye now,
To a far island in the sea, that pleasant was enow,
It lies beside the Mount of Stones, the which is known full wide,
And that same monk, he liked it well, and there did long abide;
And in that time full many a monk he had beneath him there,
And I, when I heard tell thereof, I thither thought to fare.
And then a vision Our Sweet Lord unto that monk did send
Bidding him go to meet me, a three days' journey wend.
To ship, I trow, we went right soon, Eastward our way did trace
On the far sea of Ocean, as Our Lord sent us Grace.
Toward the East so far we sailed that we were come, at last,
To a place dim and dusky, with clouds all over-cast;
There we abode in darkness, for well nigh all the day,
Until it pleased Our Lord at last to speed us on our way.
A new land we beheld then, and thither turned our prow,
Brighter it was than sunshine, and joy there was enow;
The trees and herbs, so thickly they grew on either side,
And stones so fair and precious lay gleaming far and wide;
Each bush was full of blossom, and full of fruit each tree.
Save that it were in Heaven, such perfume ne'er might be!
Therein, with joy and gladness, a long time did we spend,
Yet but short while it seemed us -- Nor might we find the end, --
We came unto a water, so clear and bright to see,
From Eastward ever springing, Westward it floweth free.
We stood and looked about us, nor crossing might we find,
A woman came toward us, so young, and fair, and kind,
And bade us each one welcome in gentle words and sweet,
Each by his right name hailing, gracious she did us greet,
And said that Our Lord Jesus we now should thank aright --
'Who sheweth you His secrets, and therewithal His might;
This is the land He giveth, whenas the world shall end,
To those on earth He loveth, hither His dear ones wend.
One half on this shore lieth, ye see it is full wide,
And half beyond the water, upon the further side.
Ye may not pass that water, the other half to see,
A year long have ye been here, and meat-less all ye be;
Ye ate not, and ye drank not, nor sleep hath closed your eye,
Nor cold nor heat hath grieved you, or be ye low or high.
This is Our Lord's own Country, 't is He Who gives it light,
Thus day for aye endureth, and ne'er shall wane to night.
Had Adam 'gainst God's bidding transgressed not, then I ween
Herein had been his dwelling, here had his offspring been;
But now ye needs must turn again, ye may not linger here,
Tho' a short while ye deem it, here have ye dwelt a year.'
Then to our ship she brought us, and bade us there 'Farewell' --
The sea, it homeward bare us, her way we might not tell.
Against our will she left us, I trow it grieved us sore --
Back to the monks, our brethren, swiftly the ship us bore,
The monks, they came to meet us, when they our barque had seen,
And grieved were they, and wrathful, that we so long had been.
We said, in joy and gladness we for awhile did stand,
Before the gates of Paradise, in this, the Promised Land,
Which our Dear Lord hath promised to those He loveth here,
Where it is never night-fall, but ever daylight clear.
'Certes,' the monks, they answered, 'this we right well have seen,
By the sweet smell upon you, there have ye surely been.'"
Saint Brandan, when he heard this, awhile in thought stood still,
And in himself he pondered what now might be God's Will.
Then to his monks he turned him, and twelve he took that day,
Those unto whom he trusted, if need upon them lay.
The twelve he took to counsel, and privily he spake:
"A secret thing I purpose, whereof your rede I'ld take:
To seek the Land of Promise, an God will thither lead,
Now say, what is your counsel? Say, shall we do this deed?"
"Dear Father," spake the others, "our own will did we leave,
Our friends, and all our riches, and unto thee did cleave,
We do as thou desirest; if so thy will shall be
With thee we'll blithely journey, the Grace of God to see."
Then forty days they fasted, and penance sore they bare,
This, Our Lord's Grace, beseeching their voyage to prosper fair.
A great ship did they dight there, and then above it cast
A strong hood for a covering, and thereto nailed it fast.
And all without they pitched it, to keep it dry and fair,
Then went they to their brethren, and leave they prayed them there.
Sithen, in this, Our Lord's Name, forth to their ship they go,
The brethren left behind them, each one must sorrow know.
When they the ship had boarded, after them came there two
And straitly they besought them that they with them might go.
"That may ye," quoth Saint Brandan, "yet one shall at the end,
Repent of this, his coming, to Hell shall, living, wend."
This holy man, he went forth whither Our Lord should guide,
And these two monks, who came last, went with them at that tide.
On the great sea of Ocean forth do they row full fast,
In God's good guidance trusting, for naught are they aghast.
The sea, it drave their ship at will, the wind was strong and high,
And as the breeze it bare them, the ship sailed steadily,
Ever toward sun-rising, on a mid-summer day,
No man of them wist where he was, or where the land, it lay.
And thus, forthright, for forty days, the wind, it bare them fast,
Till that, upon the North-side, a great isle rose at last.
Of hard rock was it, great enow, and from the sea rose high,
Three days they sailed about it, ere that they might come nigh.
A little haven there they found, to land they get them there,
They went ashore as 'mazed men, who wist not where they were.
Then came to them a goodly hound, as guide he drew them near,
And fell down at Saint Brandan's feet, and made of him good cheer.
"Beaux Freres," then quoth Saint Brandan, "to fear have ye no need,
I trow this be a messenger, who will us rightly lead."
The hound, it led this holy man to a fair hall that day,
Noble it was, and high, and strong, within the leads the way;
The monks, they found within the hall a board, with cloths o'erspread,
Thereon was bread, with fish enow, they deemed they were well sped.
They sat them down, and ate full fast, much need had they each one,
And beds were there, all ready made, ere that their meal was done.
Then supper o'er, to bed they went, to rest them as was wise,
And tho' they weary were enow, full soon they 'gan arise,
And gat them to their ship again, where they afore had been,
And long time on the sea they were ere land again was seen.
They saw it, on the other side, rise fair from out the wave,
An island green, with pastures fair, thither their barque it drave.
Whenas they came to this fair land, and round about them spied,
The fairest sheep that e'er might be they saw on every side.
Each sheep was greater than an ox, and whiter none might be,
Great joy, it waxed within them, that they this sight might see.
Then came to them a goodly man, greeting he gave them fair,
And said: "The land where ye be come, ye saw aforetime ne'er,
It is y'clept 'The Land of Sheep,' for here fair sheep they be
Mickle, and white, and great enow, as ye full well may see;
And fairer far than are your sheep, greater beyond compare,
The weather here is good enow, the pastures rich and rare;
For never winter vexeth us, nor here shall hay be found,
But each doth crop the herbage new as it doth spring from ground.
And men, they take not of their milk, that they the worser be,
For this and many another thing, they profit verilie.
From hence ye to a land shall fare, by this, Our Lord's good Grace,
That is 'The Paradise of Birds,' and a right joyous place,
And there this Easter shall ye be, and whitsuntide shall spend;
Now go ye forth in God's good Name, to bring this voyage to end."
Saint Brandan, and his brethren then, to ship they go anon,
And fast they row forth on the sea, with tempests many a one,
Till on the other side they saw an island great up-stand,
Their ship, I trow, by grace of God, it drew toward that land,
So that it almost came thereto, but on the rock did ride,
And came not close unto the isle, but lay the land beside.
Saint Brandan stayed within the ship, the monks, they wade to shore,
They thought to make them here a meal of what they had in store.
A fire they made, and boiled them fish all in a cauldron fast,
But ere the fish was cooked enow, somewhat were they aghast,
For as the fire, it burned right thro', the isle, it quaked anon,
And as in wrath it rose up there, the monks took fright each one,
Each after other to the ship they fled, as at that same,
He deemed himself best loved of God who soonest thither came!
And then they saw how this same isle fared thro' the sea full fast,
As a live thing leapt up and down, and fire from off him cast,
More than a two-mile distance swam while that it burned, the fire,
The monks, they saw the flame from far, and were in terror dire.
They cried upon Saint Brandan, what should this marvel be?
"Bide still," then quoth this holy man, "fear not for what ye see,
Ye deem it be an island, therein ye think amiss,
It is a fish of this great sea, the greatest that there is,
Jastoni, is he named, and seeketh, night and day,
To take his tail within his mouth, for size doth fail alway."
Then forth they rowed upon the sea, and Westward swift they fare
Three days, ere land it came in sight, somewhat they feared them there.
A right fair land they see then, where thick the flowers grow,
And much the sight rejoiced them, their barque they thither row.
Thro' this fair land they wandered, longer than I may tell,
A place they found within it, a very goodly well,
There stood a tree beside it, 't was broad and wide enow,
And white and fair the birdlings that sat on every bough;
So thick they perched upon it, ye scarce a leaf might see,
'T was joy and bliss sufficing to look on such a tree!
For joy he wept, Saint Brandan, and on his knee bent low
Praying that God the meaning of this strange sight would show.
A small bird fluttered upward, and as he took his flight,
His wings were as a cithole, toward him came aright,
(Than instrument of music sweeter his wings they were --)
He looked upon Saint Brandan with goodly cheer and fair;
"I bid ye," quoth Saint Brandan, "an messenger ye be,
Tell me of these, your doings, your nature show to me!"
Altho' it seemed a marvel, this bird he spake anon,
And quoth: "We were aforetime angels in heaven, each one,
But e'en as we were fashioned, for this, his beauty's pride.
He, Lucifer, our master, full soon was put outside;
And many another with him the self-same doom did win;
And we, adown we fell then, yet not for any sin,
And not that we assented to what he did 'gainst right,
But only to bear witness to this, Our Sweet Lord's might.
Nor here in pain we're holden, in joy enow we be,
And somewhat of Our Dear Lord, His might and power, we see.
And on the earth we fly now, and thro' the air also,
As angels good or evil, methinks, may rightly do.
The good aid men to goodness, the evil, evil make --
Our day of rest is Sunday, and then such form we take
As white birds are we fashioned, as here ye well may see,
And honour God our Maker, here, on this spreading tree.
A twelvemonth hath passed over, since that ye forth did wend,
Six years more must ye journey ere this, your toil, may end.
When seven years ye've voyaged, Our Lord shall send to ye
The sight that ye full long have sought, yet passed those years must be.
And each year shall ye here with us the Feast of Easter hold
As now ye do, till ye at last the Promised Land behold."
Now it was on an Easter-day that they this venture knew,
The bird, he took his leave of them, and to his fellows flew.
The birds, when it was eventide, began their evensong,
And sweeter song there might not be, were God their ranks among!
The monks, they went to bed and sleep, when they had supper ta'en,
And when 't was time for Mattins, then they rose up again.
The birds, they sang their Mattins, they knew the fitting time,
The verses of the Psalter too, and sithen sang they Prime,
At Underne, and at Midday, at Nones, so sang they then,
At all the Hours throughout the day as fitting Christian men.
The monks, they in that land abode until eight weeks had flown,
And they the Feasts of Easter and Whitsuntide had known.
With Trinity there cometh that good man to them there
Who met them in the Land of Sheep, and showed its marvels fair;
Their ship he well had loaded, of meat and drink, a store,
Bade them Farewell right gently, and turned them from that shore.
When with his monks, Saint Brandan, once more a-ship was he,
The bird that erst spake with them, it sought them presently,
And spake: "Ye have been with us thro' this high Feast, I ween,
Great travail doth await ye ere land once more be seen,
Ye shall, full seven months ended, behold a goodly isle,
By name 't is called Abbey, it lies hence many a mile;
There with good men, and holy, Midwinter shall ye spend,
Your Easter shall be holden, as ye this year did wend,
On that great Fish's back-bone, whereof your monks had fear,
The Feast with us be ended, e'en as it was this year."
Then, in God's Name, Saint Brandan, and these his monks, each one,
On the great sea of Ocean they sailed forth anon;
The wind, it tossed them up and down, they many a peril knew,
And of their lives waxed weary, nor wist they where to go.
For months they were upon the sea, which did them much torment,
Since they saw naught but water, and eke the firmament.
Then saw they land afar from them, as if an isle it were,
And strait they cried on Jesu Christ that He would bring them there.
Yet after that Saint Brandan the isle might first espy
For forty days they sailed about ere that they might come nigh,
So that they deemed their life was lost, the monks were much in fear,
And loud they cried on Jesu, that He would help them here.
A haven small and narrow they found there at the last,
Their ship, it scarce might come therein that they might anchor cast.
These monks to shore betook them, too long they'd haven sought,
And looked all round about them, 't was joyous to their thought;
Then two fair wells they see there, the one was very clear,
Troubled and thick the other -- The monks they went anear
To drink of that clear water, Saint Brandan spake straightway:
"Without the leave of others ye go not nigh to-day,
The leave of old men ancient, who be here thro' God's Will,
For they will share it with us, and therefore hold ye still."
A fair old man, and hoary, toward them came, I wis,
And gave them gracious greeting, and did Saint Brandan kiss;
Then forth with him he led them, by a fair way, and good,
Thro' many a pleasant pasture, to where an Abbey stood.
Saint Brandan looked about him, and asked what place it were?
What men should dwell within it? And how they had come there?
The old man held him silent, and answered not his prayer --
Then came a fair procession, a Cross before them bare,
With tapers lit beside it, monks were they, every one,
In choir-copes fairly vested, toward them came anon --
And fair was the procession, the abbot closed the band,
Gracious, he kissed Saint Brandan, and took him by the hand.
He and his monks he led them into a noble hall,
There in a row he set them, their feet he washed withal
In this, the troubled water, that they did first espy;
To the refectory led them, and set them down on high,
With these, his own monks, mingled, when each was in his seat,
Then one there came who served them, and brought to each his meat.
A fair white loaf he set there betwixt each two and two,
A white mess, as of herbs 't were, before them set also,
And sweeter food might none be, 't was known afore to none --
Of that clear well the waters, the monks have drunk each one.
"Be glad now:" quoth the abbot, "and take deep draughts and long
In love of this same water ye fain had ta'en with wrong;
Better it is to drink it in love, as now 't is brought,
Than as a thief to steal it, as was at first your thought.
This bread that here we eat of, we know not what it is,
Each day a strange man brings it unto our store, I wis,
We trow by God's Grace only this food to us is brought,
Whoso in Jesu trusteth, methinks shall fail for naught.
We be Friars, four and twenty, when thus we take our seat
Twelve manchets white they bring us each day to this, our meat.
And on each holy Feast day, and Sundays too, I wis,
They bring us four and twenty, that every man hath his;
And what each brother leaveth that shall his supper be,
To-day for ye 't is doubled, as ye right well may see;
Nor here is all our Convent, there be who do not eat,
But by His Grace Our Dear Lord hath sent to all his meat.
From out Saint Patrick's Abbey, in Ireland, so I ween,
For four-score years we dwell here, no man hath nigh us been,
Yet thro' His Grace, our Dear Lord hath fed us, every one,
And aye have we fine weather, and sickness is there none.
When we should do His Service, Our Lord, He sends us light,
Our tapers be not lessened, tho' burnt by day and night!"
They rose, and forth they gat them to church, thus after meat,
Twelve other Friars they met then, who thither go to eat;
"How is this?" quoth Saint Brandan. "Why were they not with us?"
"Dear Father:" quoth the Abbot, "of needs it must be thus,
For four and twenty only, hath our Refectory space,
Whenas that ye were with us then these might find no place,
While Evensong we're singing, then shall they sit and eat,
And after sing their office, when they have had their meat."
Saint Brandan saw that Altar, it seemed to him here,
With Chalice, and with cruets, all wrought of crystal clear;
The choir had seven tapers, nor more nor less, to wit,
The stalls were four and twenty wherein the monks should sit;
For four and twenty brethren there were, and each had his,
Midst of the choir the Abbot, he had his seat, I wis.
Saint Brandan asked the Abbot, "Now tell me, dear my brother,
Why do ye keep such silence that none speaks with the other?"
"Our Lord knows," quoth the Abbot, "that here we now have been
For years four-score, and leading such life as ye have seen,
Nor was there one among us who spake, before to-day,
A word, save what was needed his Office well to say,
And none of us waxed feeble, and sickness fell on none --"
Saint Brandan, when he heard this, for joy he wept anon,
"Dear Father" thus he answered, "here may we bide with ye?"
"Ye wot well:" quoth the Abbot, "that may in no wise be,
Hath not our Lord well shown thee that which thou needs must do?
Thou needs must go to Ireland, thy brethren twelve also;
And at the Isle of Ankres, the thirteenth from thee wend,
To Hell alive, the fourteenth, and be there without end."
With that, a fiery arrow in at the window flew,
As tho' it were from Heaven, and trimmed the tapers true,
And then thro' that same window it passed, e'en as it came,
Long enow burned the tapers, nor wasted in the flame.
"Lord Christ," then quoth Saint Brandan, "I wonder in my thought,
How thus they burn, these tapers, and how they waste for naught?"
"Hast thou not," quoth the Abbot, "in Holy Scripture found
How Moses saw a thorn burn, from topmost twig to ground,
Yet aye the more it burned there, greener the leaves they were,
Dost thou not deem Our Lord be as mighty here as there?"
Those monks they were together till Christmas-tide was o'er,
Yea, e'en till after Twelfth-day, ere they set forth once more.
Then on the Feast of Hilary, Saint Brandan forth did wend
With his monks on the Ocean, tho' grace that God did send;
In grief enow they floated, tossed up and down they be,
Till Lent was well nigh ended, nor sign of land might see,
Till that, about Palm-Sunday, their glance around they cast,
And saw, in the dim distance as 't were a cloud at last.
The monks, thereof they wondered, what that same cloud, it were --
"Bide still" then quoth Saint Brandan, "aforetime were ye there,
There is our procurator, who did us good of yore,
Both in the Paradise of Birds, and Isle of Sheep, afore,"
So that, at last, their vessel came to that Isle, I ween,
Upon the Maunday Thursday, in travail great they'd been.
The old man came toward them, and welcomed them anon,
Saint Brandan's feet, he kissed them, and then the monks', each one;
Sithen set them at supper, as fitting for the day,
Then all their feet he washed there, the Maund he would obey.
Thus Maunday did they keep there, and rested at that same
Throughout the whole Good Friday, till Easter Eve, it came;
On Easter Eve that old man bade them take ship anon,
Their Easter Mass to hold it that Fish's back upon.
After the Resurrection he bade them go once more
Unto the Paradise of Birds, where they had been afore.
These holy men, they sailed forth, God's Grace did guide their way
To this great Fish, in safety, they came the self-same day.
It stood still, as an island, their cauldron found they here,
As on its back they'd left it, e'en in that bye-gone year;
Lord Christ, to think such monster should in this wise stay still
And suffer men upon it to come and go at will!
There, on its back, the holy men, abode throughout the night,
Sang Evensong, and Mattins, and then, with morning light,
Their Easter Mass they sang there, upon its back, each one,
And that great Fish, it stayed there as still as any stone.
Then, when their Resurrection they'd kept with honour due,
And all the monks had sung there their Mass in order true,
About the time of Underne, to ship they took their way,
And to the Paradise of Birds they came the self-same day.
When the birds saw them coming, each one brake into song
With melody to greet them, as doth to Nones belong.
The Bird that erst spake with them, toward them winged his way,
His wings, they beat sweet music, greeting he gave that day,
And quoth: "Ye ought to thank Him, Our Lord Christ, with the best,
Who thus prepared four places whereon ye now may rest,
With our good Procurator your Maunday well to do,
Sithen, your Resurrection on that great fish, also,
And here with us full eight weeks, till Whitsuntide, to pass,
And in the Isle of Abbey Christmas to Candlemas.
But on the sea of Ocean in peril must ye wend
These other days, in travail, till seven years shall end.
And then the Land of Promise by God's Will shall ye see,
And forty days within it in bliss and joy shall be.
Thence, to the land ye came from ye shall thereafter wend,
In ease, and without travail, and there your lives shall end."
These holy men abode there, even to Trinitie,
The old man, their provider, he fed them plenteouslie,
And meat and drink he brought them, as he afore had done,
Therewith, their barque he loaded, and bade them sail anon.
These holy men, they went forth as God would send them there,
The Grace of God was with them, so might they better fare.
As thus one time they journeyed before a tempest's blast,
A great Fish, and a grisley, the ship it followed fast,
And burning foam he spued forth from out his jaws so wide,
Each time it rose, the water, high o'er the vessel's side,
E'en as a house he wallowed, pursuing them so fast,
So fierce, I trow, his threatening, the monks were sore aghast.
They cried upon Saint Brandan, and on Our Lord also,
So swift he did pursue them well nigh he came thereto,
Well nigh did he o'ertake them, their lives for lost they hold,
When, swimming from the West-ward, a great Fish they behold,
This evil fish it met with, and smote upon it fast
Till the foul back was cloven in three parts at the last.
Then the same way he came from, thither he turned again, --
The monks gave thanks to Jesu, they of His aid were fain!
Long time these good men wandered upon the Ocean wide,
Till they were sore a-hungered, no meat had they that tide.
Then came a small bird flying, a great bough with him brought
Laden with ripe grapes, ruddy, their ship he straightway sought.
Thereon for days full fourteen, they lived, and lacked for naught.
Then, when these grapes were finished, hunger, it vexed them sore,
An isle they saw beside them, therein of meat a store,
Full of fair trees that island, laden each bough they found
E'en with those grapes I spake of, they trailed upon the ground.
From ship he went, Saint Brandan, the grapes, he plucked them fast,
Aboard for food he bare them, for forty days they last.
Soon came a Gryphon flying, pursued them on their way,
And in their ship assailed them, and fain he would them slay;
In dole these monks, they cried out, they deemed their life was o'er --
They saw that small bird flying toward them as before
With whom they oft had spoken, in the Bird's Paradise,
Whenas Saint Brandan saw him the sight rejoiced his eyes;
This small bird smote the gryphon, and aimed his blow so high,
That with the first blow only he smote out either eye.
That evil beast, he slew it, dead in the sea it fell,
For none may harm the creature to whom God wisheth well!
These monks on sea they wandered, and sailed now here, now there,
In one of these four places at each high Feast they were.
And one Feast of Saint Peter they joyful spake with tongue,
In honour of Saint Peter on sea they merry sung.
And in that place, it chanced then, so clear the sea they found
On either side about them they saw e'en to the ground,
They deemed the ground on each side with fish was all on heap
And all so still they lay there, as they had been asleep.
The monks beseech Saint Brandan from loud speech to refrain
Lest that the fish, awakened, should break the ship in twain.
"Why fear ye?" quoth Saint Brandan. "Whereof are ye in dread?
The Master of the Fishes, on him ye were well sped,
Fire on his back ye kindled, and come there year by year."
Then, louder than aforetime, his song rang sweet and clear,
They started up, the fishes, as wakened from their sleep,
About the ship came thronging, as it were on an heap,
Thick on each side they floated, no water might ye see,
Beset the ship all round about, -- from water were they free.
Around the barque lay thickly, and did it close pursue
Until his Mass Saint Brandan, had sung it fair and true;
Each on its way departed e'en as the Mass did end --
Yea, man may see great wonders who wide in world doth wend!
The wind, it was both strong and stiff, and drave their ship so fast,
While seven nights they sailed did that clear water last,
So that, as clear as it were land, they saw beneath the wave,
These good monks, much they wondered, and thanks to God they gave.
With that there came a South wind, and Northward fast they drew,
And long that wind was with them, for full eight days it blew;
Far, in the North, they saw it, a dismal land and dark,
It smoked as doth a smithy, thitherward drave their barque.
With that, they heard a blowing of many bellows there,
And beating great, and noise enow, e'en as it thunder were.
Sore vexed was then Saint Brandan, and crossed himself full fast,
With that came forth a wicked wight, full swiftly at the last,
All black was he, and burning, he looked upon the men,
Anon, he turned him back again, the monks were 'frighted then;
That evil wight gave forth a cry, that men might hear him wide,
Then of his like came many more, they thronged on either side,
With tongs, and eke with hammers, and all afire each one,
And swiftly to the water's edge, after the ship they run.
Then, since they might not come anigh, they 'gan to yell full fast,
Their hammers all a-burning, after the monks they cast,
That naught but flame about them, those men may hear or see,
The sea all round was burning, as tho' afire it be!
Their casts came each on other, some missiles threw on high,
Thus threw they all around the ship, yet never came they nigh.
At last aback they turn them, since they might profit naught, --
And all the land they dwelt in, it was afire, they thought;
And all the sea around it, it burned and smoked full fast,
The smoke was thick, and stinking, and long time did it last,
Altho' that smoke was some part flame -- When they could see no more,
Yet still they heard their yelling, the thieves, they wept full sore.
"What think ye?" quoth Saint Brandan: "Was this a merry pass?
No more we'll come anigh there, one end of Hell it was,
The fiends, they deemed they had here, a good catch, so I wot,
But praised be Sweet Jesu, they drew a blank for lot!"
But still the South wind lasted, and still it drave them forth,
Until a hole they saw there, afar, toward the North,
Of glowing smoke, and burning, and strong the stench withal,
The lowe thereof, it reached on high, as tho' it were a wall;
If in the other place was much, there was, I trow, much more!
One of the monks he then began to weep and wail full sore
For that his time, it now was come, nor might it be delayed,
Straightway he leapt from out the ship, amid the sea 'gan wade,
Ran fast upon the water, toward that fire drew near,
With dismal yells and doleful, great dole it was to hear:
"Alas!" he cried, "my wretched life, for now I see mine end,
In joy have I been with ye, but back I may not wend,
Accurst be she who bare me, the hour that I was born,
The father who begat me, for now am I forlorn!"
The fiends they came toward him, they held that wretch full fast,
And strongly did they bind him, and 'mid the furnace cast;
'T was sooth he said, Saint Brandan, when that he forth would wend
That Grace should surely fail him, his sinful life to mend.
So fast it burned the mountain, that naught of it they know,
For that they still were distant, naught but the fiery glow.
The wind, to North it turned then, Southward it drave them fast,
On each side did it strongly blow till seven nights were past.
So long they sailed Southward until at last they see
A rugged rock in Ocean, washed over by the sea;
By water oft-times covered, and oft-times was it bare,
And as they drew anigh it they of a ghost were 'ware.
They saw, on that rock seated, when the wave backward drew,
A wretched ghost all naked, and sore mis-ease he knew;
A cloth was spread above him, with two clasps, made full fast
Beneath his chin at one end, the wind it wide did cast,
That ever when the water withdrew, the cloth from high
Beat downward as the wind blew, and smote him in the eye.
The waves, they beat him also, before, and eke behind,
I trow a ghost more wretched a man might hardly find.
Then, in God's Name Saint Brandan conjured him, that he tell
His name, and his misdoing, and why this doom befell?
He quoth: "My name is Judas, a doleful ghost am I,
Who sold Our Lord for silver, with Him on earth was I,
But this is not my dwelling, Our Lord doth me this Grace,
Somewhat to ease my suffering He sets me in this place;
'T is not for good I did erst, but of His Mercy's store,
For never pain I suffer but I were worthy more!
For in that Hell that burneth, there, where ye saw it aye,
Therein have I my portion, to burn by night and day,
And there was I but lately when this, your brother, came,
And there was led to torment, and doom of endless flame.
And therefore Hell was joyful, and burned with such a glow,
For that he was come thither, it is their custom so
When any soul, it cometh at first within their thrall,
But I, thro' God's great Mercy from out their clutches fall;
Here am I every Sunday, from Saturday at eve
To Evensong on Sunday, and here they must me leave.
And at Midwinter also, till Twelfth Day, I may know
This ease, from dawn of Easter to Whitsunday, also.
And on Our Lady's Feast days, so full of Grace He is,
At other times my portion is cast in Hell, I wis,
With Pilate, and Herodias, Annas, and Caiaphas,
Now may the hour be cursed that born on earth I was!
For love of God I pray ye, now deal ye on this wise,
This night abide ye near me till that the sun shall rise,
And from the fiends protect me, who soon will come for me!"
"By God's Grace." quoth Saint Brandan, "thy shield we sure shall be,
But say, what may that cloth be, that hangeth o'er thee there?"
"The while that I on earth was, and Our Lord's silver bare,
This cloth I gave a leper, and yet mine own 't was naught,
With pence of this my Master, and comrades, was it bought.
Since for God's Love I gave it, from me it is not ta'en,
The least man doeth for Him shall be repaid again.
Yet since the cost was others', so have I understood,
Altho' it hangs before me, it doth more harm than good,
For in mine eyes it beateth, and doth them hurt, I wis --
To give at cost of others man may be warned by this,
As many a rich man doeth, who oft with wrong doth take
Their goods from many a poor man, and alms thereof doth make.
That for God's Love they do it, it shall not be forgot,
Yet to their pain be turned, as they shall surely wot.
These clasps, also:" quoth Judas, "that o'er my head ye see,
To two priests did I give them, and therefore here they be,
Each man shall find that surely which he hath done for love --
The stone that here I sit on, lifted the waves above,
Once on a road I found it, where it was useless all,
Into a ditch I cast it, lest men should o'er it fall.
But few have been the good deeds whereof I now may tell,
The smallest one is garnered, either in Heaven or Hell!"
Now, since 't was eve of Sunday, the fiends came on the blast,
That ghost, to Hell to lead it, they howled and yelled full fast;
"Go hence," they said, "thou good man, here may'st thou nothing speed,
But let us take our comrade, to Hell we will him lead,
We dare not face our Master ere that we him have brought,
'T is time thou turned'st from him, thou shalt us hinder naught."
"Ye shall not," quoth Saint Brandan, "here do your Master's will,
Our Lord Christ doth forbid it, Who is more powerful still."
The fiends they quoth: "How dar'st thou before him name that Name?
Betrayed he did, and sold Him, to death with mickle shame."
Saint Brandan quoth: "In His Name I bid ye, as I may,
To lay no hand upon him ere dawns to-morrow's day."
Rueful, the fiends they yelled then, and homeward 'gan to flee,
Judas, he sadly thanked him, and dole it was to see.
The morrow, with the daylight, the fiends they thither hied,
With grisley yell, and weeping, full fast began to chide:
"Away," they said, "thou good man, accursed be the stound,
That thou drew nigh unto us, and that we thee here found,
Our Master, he hath plagued us right bitterly this night
With strong pains, since we brought not, with us this sorry wight,
But for these coming six days we'll double all his woe,
And so will we avenge us, to his own count 't will go!"
Sore quaked that ghost so wretched, 't were dole to see, or tell,
The fiends, with them they took him, and led him into Hell.
Saint Brandan there forbade them, in this, Our Dear Lord's, Name,
That for this night of respite they do him greater shame.
Then with his monks, Saint Brandan, he put forth on the sea,
And by Our Lord's Grace journeyed Southward for days full three,
The fourth day, to the Southward they saw an isle rise high,
And when Saint Brandan saw it, full sorely did he sigh;
"I trow that Paul, the Hermit, is in that isle I see,
For forty years he dwells here, and never meat hath he."
Whenas they reached the island ashore they went, each one,
That aged man, the Hermit, toward them came anon,
Down to his feet flowed thickly the hair of beard and head,
Hidden was all his body, that naught was bare that stead;
Naught else had he for raiment, his limbs for age were hoar --
Saint Brandan he beheld him, and there he wept full sore:
"Now living as an angel, a mortal man I see!"
"Be still," then quoth the Hermit, "for God doth well by thee,
And shows, as to none other what these, His Secrets, be!
A monk by his own labour, and toil, I trow, doth live,
But thou, by God's Grace only, what He to thee doth give!
In th' Abbey of Saint Patrick a monk was I, I wis,
And of his church a warden, where Purgatory is;
One day a man came to me, I asked who he might be?
He quoth, 'I am thine Abbot, have thou no fear of me!'
'No man save holy Patrick mine Abbot is,' I said;
'I am that man' he answered, 'be not for that afraid,
To-morrow, with the daylight,' quoth he 'to sea must wend,
There doth a ship await thee, that God to thee will send,
And in that ship shalt set forth, upon the sea so wide,
It to the place will lead thee, wherein thou shalt abide.'
Early next morn I rose up, to do his will was bound,
And to the sea-shore coming, full soon the ship I found.
I bade that ship sail with me, and straight we forth did wend,
In seven days to this island, Our Lord, He did me send.
Whenas from ship I landed, then, guided by God's Grace,
The way, aright I found it, that led me to this place.
Sick, and alone, I came here, and comfort had I none --
On his hind feet an Otter, he came to me anon,
Betwixt his fore-feet brought me fire-iron, and flint, I trow,
Wherewith a fire to kindle, and good fish, too, enow.
He went his way, the Otter, and fire I made me there,
And cooked me fish, in God's Name, I had for three days fare.
And ever since, the third day, that Otter comes to me,
And brings me meat sufficient to last for days full three.
From out this hard rock, water springs at Our Lord's command,
Each day enough there floweth to drink and wash my hands.
But here, for thirty winters, I such a life had led
Ere first the well, it sprang forth, as ye see at this stead.
By this well have I lived now, a forty years, full told,
And ere that I came hither, full fifty was I old;
So that of years, one hundred, and twenty more, to-day
May to my lot be counted, God's Will be done, alway!
Here I my death await now, when God the day shall send,
And bid me come unto Him, and from this world to wend.
But take now of this water, for thou hast need anon,
And wend forth on the Ocean, thy journey is not done,
For on the sea thou further for forty days must fare,
Thine Easter Mass be holden, as it was holden ere;
Thence, to the Land of Promise, believe me, shalt thou go,
For forty days abiding, its pleasures shalt thou know,
And, leaving it, shalt journey to thine own land again --"
With dole enow, those good men departed them in twain.
These holy men, they sailed forth, a tempest bare them fast,
For forty days to Southward the while that Lent did last,
To their good procurator, on Easter Eve, them bore
And joy enow he made them as he had done afore.
To the great Fish he led them, e'en as the evening fell,
All night, till Easter morning, they on its back did dwell.
There did they sing their Mattins, and Easter Mass anon --
The Fish began to move there, e'en as the Mass was done;
Bearing the monks forth with him, he swam forth very fast,
Cleaving the sea so strongly, the monks were sore aghast;
I trow it was a marvel, an one were there to see,
So great a beast forth faring, as 't were a great countrie!
Straight to the Paradise of Birds he bare the monks that day,
There whole and sound he left them, and went upon his way.
These monks, when they came thither, so glad and blithe they were --
Till Trinity was over, the while they stayed them there,
For their good procurator brought meat and drink enow,
As he had done aforetime, their ship he stored, I trow,
And also went forth with them where God should think to send --
Toward the east they sailed, and forty days they wend,
And when those days were finished, it 'gan to hail full fast,
And a thick mist enwrapped them, for long time did it last;
"Rejoice!" he quoth, their guide, then, "and make ye right good cheer,
This is the Land of Promise, I trow that we be here!"
When from this mist they came forth, and well might look around,
The land, it was the fairest that ever yet was found,
So clear it was, and sun-lit, it wrought them joy enow,
The trees with fruit were laden, that clustered on each bough;
With trees 't was set full thickly, and each was very fair,
And with ripe apples laden, as harvest-time it were.
And forty days they dwelt there, and did about it wend,
Nor of the land might find there, on either side, the end.
And evermore 't was daylight, and nevermore 't was night,
Nowhere where they had journeyed had they found so much light.
The air was ever tempered, nor hot, nor yet too cold,
The joy they found within it, it may by none be told.
They came to a fair water, nor might they further go,
But all the land beyond it for very fair they know.
A young man came toward them, goodly, and fair to see,
'T was God Who sent him to them, fairer no man might be,
Each one by name he welcomed, and kissed them one by one,
Did honour to Saint Brandan, and took his hand anon.
"Lo! here," he said, "the country, that ye have sought so wide
But yet Our Lord, He wills not that ye for long abide;
Now ye have seen His Secrets, ye shall again to sea,
But load your barque with fruit now, since here ye may not be."
Then courteous, to Saint Brandan that young man spake: "Fair Friend,
To thine own land returning thou on thy way must wend,
This world, thou soon must leave it, thy life is near its end.
The water that thou seest, divides this land in two,
This half, right fair ye deem it, beyond, 't is even so --
Ye may not pass the bounds now, for that it is not right;
This fruit aye ripe abideth, this land is ever light,
And when, Our Lord, He willeth a man to Him to draw,
So that he well doth know Him, and understand His law,
That land to him He showeth, and when the world shall end,
The souls that be His chosen, they all shall thither wend."
Saint Brandan and his monks there, of this fruit plucked full fast,
And precious stones took also, into their ship did cast;
Fair leave they then have taken, and when they this had done,
With weeping, grief, and dole enow, they did depart, anon,
And wended homeward on the sea, e'en as Our Lord did send,
And sooner came they home again than they did outward wend.
Their brethren, when they saw them, joyful were they indeed,
Saint Brandan, he, that holy man, full soon to death must speed,
For never after this same time, for this world cared he aught,
But as one of another world, he fared as aye in thought.
And soon he died in Ireland, after that self-same stound,
And sithen, many a miracle for his sake hath been found.
A right fair Abbey men have reared, where he was buried low --
God bring us to that self-same joy that this, His saint, doth know!





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