d bound
Saint Andrew's hands, soon as the joy of lords
Revealed himself, and they could see him there
Boldly triumphant. Many a warrior
Lusted for battle on that field of death,
Among the host of men. Little they cared
What recompense hereafter they should find.
They gave command to lead their hated foe
Over the country, and from time to time 1230
To drag him fiercely as they could contrive.
Savage, they haled him, cruel-hearted foes,
Through mountain-caves, about the stony cliffs,
Far as their stone-paved streets and highways stretched--
The ancient work of giants--through the town.
A tumult and a mighty outcry rose
Within the city from the heathen host.
With grievous wounds was Andrew's body pained,
Broken and wet with blood, which welled in streams 1240
All hot with gore; yet had he in his breast
Courage undoubting; and his noble mind
Was free from sin, though he was doomed to bear
Such bitter suffering from his heavy wounds.

Thus all day long till radiant evening came
Was Andrew scourged; and yet a second day
Pain pierced his breast, until the gleaming sun
With heavenly radiance to his setting went.
Then to the prison did those people lead
Their hated foe; yet to the heart of Christ 1250
Was he full dear; within his holy breast
His soul shone bright--a mind invincible.
So all night long the hero brave of heart,
That holy saint, dwelt 'neath the gloomy shades,
Beset with cunning snares. Snow bound the earth
In wintry storms; the air grew bitter cold
With heavy showers of hail; the rime and frost,
Those warriors hoary, locked the homes of men,
The people's dwellings; frozen were the lands
With icicles; the water's might shrank up 1260
Within the rivers, and the ice bridged o'er
The gleaming water-roads. The noble saint
Abode blithe-hearted, planning valiant deeds,
Bold and courageous in his misery,
Throughout the wintry night; nor did he e'er,
Dismayed by terror, cease to praise the Lord,
And ever worship Him, as at the first,
With righteous heart, until the radiant gem
Of glory rose.

Then came a mighty troop,
A throng of warriors thirsting after blood, 1270
With clamor loud unto the prison mirk.
They gave command to lead the noble saint,
That steadfast man, into his foemen's grasp;
And once again he suffered all day long,
Beaten w