Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LIFE OF SAINT DUNSTAN, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LIFE OF SAINT DUNSTAN, by                    
First Line: "saint dunstan was of english blood, and born on english earth"
Last Line: "in heaven's bliss, where angel bands thy ransomed spirit bare!"
Subject(s): "dunstan, Saint (924-988);


SAINT DUNSTAN was of English blood, and born on English earth;
Our Lord a wonder wrought for him ere yet he came to birth;
While he was in his mother's womb, all on a Candlemas,
When folk enow were in the church, for so the manner was,
And as they stood there with their lights, as men are wont to now,
The tapers went out every one, and none wist why, or how.
The lights one while they burnt right well -- and then the lights were out, --
The folk they stood in wonder great, and also in great doubt,
And each to other spake, and asked, what might the meaning be
That thus the light that each one bare was quenched so suddenly?
And as they stood and spake thereof, in marvel great, each one,
Saint Dunstan's mother's taper burst forth into flame anon,
The while she held it in her hand, and wist not whence the flame!
The folk, they stood, and gazed thereon, and wondered at that same,
And none knew whence it came, that light, but deemed 't was of God's Grace,
Therefrom they kindled all anew their lights throughout that place.
And wherefore did Our Lord and God the light from Heaven send,
And all the folk that stood around their tapers therefrom tend,
Save to foretell of that fair child, ere yet he came to birth,
How that his saintly name should shed a light on English earth?
Nine hundred years and twenty-five, whenas this child was born,
Had passed since Our Dear Lord saw light on Holy Christmas morn,
It was the coronation year of our King Athelstan,
His mother's name was Cymfath, his father's Heorstan;
And when the child was born, I wot, his parents took good heed,
They gave him to the good monks' care, to nourish, and to feed.
At Glastonbury was he taught his Credo, and for prayer
The Pater Noster, -- there he waxed a goodly child and fair;
Small care had he for worldly things, for righteousness he yearned,
And all men who heard tell of him, for joy, their hearts, they burned.
When he to man's estate had come, at Canterbury's throne
He sought Saint Aldhelm, who the lad as nephew fain would own,
Great joy he had of him, I trow, his gladness waxed the more
The more he of his goodness knew, and of his wisdom's lore.
For very pride and love, the youth he speedily did bring
Unto the lord of all the land, to Athelstan the king;
Thereof the king had joy enow, and granted him this boon,
Of anything that he might ask it should be done right soon.
He prayed of him an Abbey there, e'en where he first was brought,
Beside the town of Glastonbury -- the king refused him naught,
But granted him forthwith that boon, and after him also
Edmund, his brother, who was king, and had the power thereto.
To Glastonbury soon he went, Saint Dunstan, that good man,
Since both the kings they gave him leave, Edmund, and Athelstan.
His house at Glastonbury soon in order fair he set,
For much he made of law and rule, which ne'er had been as yet.
That Abbey fair was founded first four hundred years, they say,
And fifty three, ere Dunstan good had seen the light of day;
For monks were there, or so folk say, ere yet Saint Patrick came,
Or Austin upon English earth had lit the sacred flame.
Two hundred years and fifty two, had passed since that glad morn,
(At Patrick's death,) when Our Dear Lord of Virgin Maid was born, --
But all the monks who first were there dwelt each one separately,
As men before the foes of Christ must to the desert flee. --
Saint Dunstan, and Saint Adelwold, God willed it so alway,
Received the gift of priesthood both upon the self-same day;
To Glastonbury, speedily, Dunstan his way did wend,
And Abbot did they make him there -- His life he fain would mend,
And since he would not with his will a moment idle be,
A smithy there beside his cell he made him privily,
And when his orisons he needs must leave for weariness
With hand he fain would labour there, to flee from idleness.
The while his life-time might endure he served the poor alway,
And all day long, for love of God, he took of them no pay.
And while he sat there at his work, his hands wrought at his trade,
His heart was aye with Jesus Christ, his lips they ever prayed,
So that his labour was, I ween, but one, and yet threefold,
His hands at work, his heart with God, his lips, his bedes they told.
Therefore the Devil had of him envy and hatred great, --
One time he to the smithy came, whenas the day waxed late,
E'en as the sun was going down, and there, in woman's guise,
He spake to him about his work, in gay and gladsome wise.
And told him how she had with him much work that must be done --
Trifling, she changed her theme, and spake another tale anon.
That holy man, he marvelled, as her words flew here and there,
He sat him still, and wondered much what meaning this might bear.
Then he bethought him how it was, and for his tongs did reach,
And laid them in the furnace hot, and spake with gentle speech
Until the tongs were all red-hot, then, ere she was aware,
He gripped the Devil by the nose, and held her fast and fair!
He held and shook her by the nose, until the fire out-sprung,
The Devil wriggled here and there, yet fast Saint Dunstan clung,
She yelled and hopped, and tugged amain, and made full grisley cheer,
(Had he but known, for all his wealth he had not come anear!)
So with his tongs he blew her nose, and vexed the fiend full sore --
But now the dusk had come, 't was night, and he could see no more,
The fiend was glad and blithe enow to 'scape from out his hand,
He flew, and cried the welkin thro', men heard o'er all the land:
"Out! Out! What hath the bald-head done? What hath the bald-head done?"
Thro' all the land the foul fiend's cry, men heard it every one!
But since the Saint he found at home, who blew his nose so sore,
Thither, to cure him of his cold, he hied him never more!

Dunstan, the holy Abbot, he had great fame and power,
The while King Edmund lived and reigned he was his counsellor;
But when, after King Edmund's death, the years had come and gone,
And Edwyn, he was crowned king, then it fell out anon
That Edwyn hearkened evil rede, and evil ways would go,
With holy Dunstan he was wroth, which wrought him mickle woe;
He drave him from his Abbey forth, and did him shame the while,
But aye the more he did him wrong the more the good man smiled.
He drave him forth from English earth, as outlaw must he fare,
The good man, he went forth with joy, he took but little care,
To Saint Amand, beyond the sea, he gat him then, I trow,
And in the Abbey long time dwelt, with ease and peace enow.
But when King Edwyn's life was done, Edgar the crown must win,
For that he was his brother born, and therefore next of kin;
A man of holy life was he, who well loved Holy Kirk,
And when men gave him counsel good thereafter would he work.
Men told him of Saint Dunstan whom the king drave from the land
Unjustly, for his righteousness -- thereto he set his hand,
And sent his messengers anon, and bade him come again,
For of his counsel and his rede, he, Edgar, was full fain.
Saint Dunstan, he came home again, the king received him well,
And gave him back his Abbey fair, wherein in peace to dwell.
The King, he shewed him favour great, his rede would gladly hear,
And much of Dunstan's goodness spake the folk, both far and near.
It chanced that Worcester's bishop soon thereafter came to die,
Archbishop Odo, and the King, held counsel privily,
Dunstan, the holy Abbot, a bishop made they there,
To raise him higher in God's law, tho' 'gainst his will it were.
Some of Archbishop Odo the reason fain would know
Wherefore he made him Bishop, and did such favour shew?
"'T is fitting" quoth Sir Odo, "because that after me
Dunstan shall be Archbishop, as men shall surely see."
"What meanest thou," quoth the other, "dost know what shall befall?
Thou mayest not see beyond thy foot, 't is God Who ruleth all!"
"Dear Friend" the good man answered him, "thou chidest me for naught,
For well I know what my Lord Christ within my mouth hath brought,
And thus He saith about this thing, and by His leave I say
What shall befall in Holy Church when I be passed away."
Thereafter unto Dunstan the see of London fell,
Worcester and London both he ruled as Bishop, passing well.
Ere long Archbishop Odo died, in Canterbury's need
King Edgar and the Pope of Rome together sought good rede,
And that good man Saint Dunstan, Archbishop made they there,
And all the folk who were his friends right glad of it they were.
The Christian Faith on English earth he built it up anew,
The laws and rites of Holy Church he 'stablished fast and true;
He set it fast through England that every priest must choose
To free himself from taint of lust, or else his church to lose.
The story saith that Oswald, bishop of Worcester then,
And Adelwold of Rochester, who both were holy men,
These bishops twain, and Dunstan, they all were of one rede,
Of one mind with King Edgar to do this goodly deed.
These bishops three, they journeyed throughout the English land,
And each light priest, they cast him out, none might their will withstand,
Their churches, and their worldly goods, they took them there and then,
And thro' the Pope's grant these, their goods, bestowed on poorer men.
And eight and forty Abbeys, for monk and eke for nun,
They 'stablished throughout England with this, the treasure won.
So all was better ordered than e'er it was of old,
For when good men be masters good deeds ye may behold!
And good were these three bishops who ruled in days of yore,
England is better for their lives, and shall be evermore.

Our Lord, He gave Saint Dunstan on earth such special grace
That one time as he was in prayer, all in a lonely place,
His father, and his mother both, in Heavenly joy and bliss,
Altho' the twain were dead, he saw right openly, I wis!
No greater love Our Lord and God to any man might shew
Than thus to grant him, while in life, His hidden things to know!
For as he lay another time upon his bed, at night,
The joy of Heaven he beheld, and Heavenly mansions bright;
He heard the angels sing a song, the gate of Heaven within,
Even as when in Holy Church the choir doth Mass begin;
"Kyrie Eleison," so it rang, the wondrous note and song,
The holy man who hearkened this he deemed the time not long!
And well might he to Heaven come, whenas his life should end,
To whom, while he was yet on earth, God did such visions send!
The harp, methinks, he loved right well, and well thereon he played, --
One day he sat in solace, and a goodly lay he made;
The harp he hung upon the wall, when it was time to eat,
And when it was in safety brought, he sat him down to meat.
Of Heaven he 'gan think anon, the joys that we shall share,
The gladsome bliss of Paradise, the Saints who wait us there.
He sat as he were in a trance, and from the flesh were brought --
The harp which hung upon the wall, whereon he little thought,
Took knowledge of his holy dreams -- dead tree it was alway --
And by God's Will 't was as it heard what never tongue might say,
For by itself it 'gan to harp a joyous strain, I wis,
Which men yet sing in Holy Church, whereof the English is:
"Rejoice all holy souls to-day who have in Heaven your seat,
Who followed on Our Dear Lord's way, and for His Love so sweet
Have shed your blood, for thereby ye your crown in Heaven have won,
And reign as Kings for evermore with Christ, God's Only Son!"
This Antiphon, that gladsome is, the folk they heard it all,
Whenas the harp sang by itself, there, hanging on the wall.
Great grace Our Lord He shewed him then, when e'en the lifeless tree
Sang of the joys that waited him when he in Heaven should be!
Lord! Praised for evermore Thy Grace, and praised Thy Might also,
Who for Thy Saint, while yet on earth, such miracles didst shew!

Now when this holy man had lived on earth full many a day,
And nigh unto his death had come, as well he knew alway,
On Holy Thursday he fell sick, as it fell in that year,
He called unto him all his friends, the men to him most dear,
And those who did him service too, he called them every one,
And there forgave them any wrong that they to him had done.
And there assoiled them of their sins -- So in God's Hands he lay
Throughout the Holy Thursday, and eke through the next day.
Then on the Saturday he called to him the brethren all
And bade them all "Farewell," and said what should them next befall;
And bade them give him the last rites, and Corpus Domini,
Therewith his soul this world forsook, and passed to Heaven high.
Nine hundred years and eighty eight, I ween, had passed on earth,
Since Our Dear Lord from Mary Maid took Human Flesh, and Birth.
Now sweet our lord, Saint Dunstan, grant us with thee to fare
In Heaven's bliss, where Angel bands thy ransomed spirit bare!





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