Then the twins shall scourge them severely
upon the breeze, under the horde of stars,
with the points of twigs, with silver switches,
until their bones gleam, their veins go bleeding—
they shall pour out spear-rage upon the gluttonous devil. (ll. 141-45)
The statement of God can always put to flight
the fiends, one and all, the throng of the sinful
for the sake of every human, through the mouth of mankind,
and can torment swart demons—although they shall never
change their forms so wondrously, assuming plumage
across their bone-coffers. Sometimes they grasp sailors.
Sometimes they carry forth in the bodies of serpents,
strong and sharp-toothed, stinging animals
ambling in the field, carrying off cattle.
Sometimes the devil fells a horse in the water,
chopping him down with his horns,
until the blood of its heart tumbles to the earth,
a foaming flooding bath.
Sometimes he manacles an ill-fated man,
weighing down his hands—
then he must struggle for his life
in a war against a host of the hateful. (ll. 146-60)
The devil inscribes upon his weapon
a horde of deadly runes, baleful book-staves,
ensorceling his sword, his glorious blade.
Therefore let no man draw forth the weapon’s edge
too often, without due regard, although its form
pleases him well—yet he must always sing,
when he should sweep out his sword,
“Pater Noster” and pray for that palm-tree
with bliss, so that he may give them both
his soul and hands, when his foe steps forth. (ll. 161-69)
Dialogue II
What I have learned through disputation in days gone by,
mind-perceiving men, counselors of middle-earth
working about their wisdom. They do worse who deceive
or who contend with the truth. Solomon was more renowned,
though Saturnus, that bold chieftain, kept the key
to certain books, the lock of learning. (ll. 170-75a)
He wandered through every land: the Indian Ocean,
the East-Cosseans, the realms of Persia and Palestine,
the citadel of Nineveh, the Northern Parthians,
the treasure-halls of the Medes, the yard of Marcolf,
the realm of Saul, as he lay to the south
about Gilboa, and about Geador to the north,
the hall of the Philistines, the fortress of the Greeks,
the forest of Egypt, the waters of Midian,
the rock of Mount Horeb, the realm of Chaldea,
the crafts of the Greeks, the kindred of Arabia,
the learning of Libya, the lands of Syria,
Bithynia, Bashan, Pamphilia, the boundaries of Porus,
Macedonia, Mesopotamia, Cappadocia, and Christ’s homeland:
Jericho, Galilee and Jerusalem…. (ll. 175b-92)
Solomon:
…… or I may keep silent,
thinking about what is profitable, although
I would never speak it. I know then, if you depart
upon the Wendel-sea, across the River Chobar,
seeking your native land, that you would have boasted
that you have overcome and overmastered
the child of men. I know that the Chaldeans
were boastful at war and gold-proud,
glorious in their arrogance, where it happened
to the multitude, southward on Shinar field.
Say to me where no man could set foot in that land. (ll. 193b-202)
Saturnus:
That famous man was called the Ravening Wolf,
a sea-sailor, known to the tribal nation
of the Philistines, the friend of Nimrod.
On that field he slew five and twenty
dragons at dawn, and then he fell himself, dead. (ll. 203-07)
Therefore, no human, no man, can seek out
that space of earth, that border-land—
birds cannot fly over it, no more than the beasts of the earth. (ll. 208-10)
Thenceforth some sort of poison sprung forth
widely at first, when swarming through the breath
of venom, an entrance opened up. (ll. 211-13)
Yet his sword glitters, shining strongly,
and across the gravesites the hilt glimmers still. (ll. 214-15)
Solomon:
Foolish is he who goes upon deep water
without knowing how to swim, without a sailed ship,
without the flight of birds, nor can touch the bottom
with his feet. Indeed, he tempts
the Lord God’s might very unwisely. (ll. 216-220)
Saturnus:
But what is the speechless one, who sleeps
in a certain valley? He is vigorously clever,
and has seven tongues—and each of those tongues
bears twenty piercing points, and each those points
contains the wisdom of angels—
Whichever one who wishes to bring it up,
so that you may see the walls sparkling
of golden Jerusalem and their gleaming cross of joy,
the most truthful of signs. Say what I’m thinking about! (ll. 221-28)
Solomon:
Those books are famous! They teach abundantly
an appointed desire to those who think at all,
strengthening themselves and establishing
a steadfast thought, cheering the heart
of every man from the closing constraint of this life. (ll. 229-33)
Saturnus:
He is bold who tastes of the books’ craft,
always he will be the wiser who holds their power. (ll. 234-35)
Solomon:
They send forth victory to all of the soothfast,
the harbor of salvation, to those who love them. (ll. 236-37)
Saturnus:
A singular thing exists in this worldly realm,
about it curiosity has broken me
for fifty winters, by day and by night,
through deep destiny, a grieving spirit—
yet it shall do this, until the Eternal Lord
grants me what might satisfy a wiser man. (ll. 238-43)
Solomon:
You speak truly: I shall satisfy you right away
about that wondrous creature.
Do you wish that I should tell you? (ll. 244-45)
A singular bird sits in the middle of the Philistine
realm; a mountain lies round about it,
a broad golden wall. The Philistine wise men
keep it zealously, believing that it is nothing,
that an entire nation must snatch it away from them
with the blades of weapons. They know of this compact:
they keep it every night, by the north and the south,
in two halves, with two hundred wardens. (ll. 246-53)
This bird has four heads of the average man’s size,
and the middle of it is the size of a whale—
it has the wings of a vulture and the feet of a griffon.
It lies down, secure in its chains, louring about fiercely,
flapping its wings vigorously and its fetters ring,
screeching miserably, lamenting its misfortunes,
wallowing in its torment, dwelling joylessly,
singing out strangely—seldom ever do his limbs
lie still. Severely he longs for freedom,
seeming to him that it might be thrice thirty
thousand winters before he should hear
the din of Doomsday. No man of the kindred of earth
knows what it is within this world,
until I alone discovered it and commanded it
to be thrown into bonds across the broad waters,
so that that mindful one, the son of Melot,
first of the Philistines, ordered it bound fast,
locked up into chains against its folk-terror.
The distant dwellers, first of the Philistines,
call that bird by the name of Vasa Mortis. (ll. 254-72)
Saturnus:
Yet what is that wonder that fares throughout the world,
going forth inexorably, beating upon the bases,
rousing drops of tears, often struggling to get here?
Neither star nor stone can evade it at all,
nor the brilliant jewel, water or wild beast—
yet it proceeds in the hand of the hard and the soft,
the great and middling. Every ground-dweller,
breeze-sailor and wave-swimmer,
must go yearly to the feast, reckoned
thrice thirteen thousand times. (ll. 273-82)