Juliana

Hark! We have heard it, a history for heroes, of days long departed, when a dark power reigned. Merciless Maximian, a man who held mastery over the wide world, a wicked emperor who raised up terror, a relentless persecution, and hunted God's people. He harried the righteous, spilling their sacred blood, servants of glory. He tore down God's temples, and turned them to ruin, and kindled his pyres for the Christian believers, who held to the holy truth. He hewed them down, felled the faithful in front of his idols.

There was a reeve then, a rich and powerful man, who ruled in the city of Nicomedia. Eleusius he was called, an eager persecutor. This lord of the heathens loved idols and treasure, and his heart was hardened. He held a great hatred for the glory of God. In that same city dwelt a maiden of merit, Juliana by name, whose heart was wholly given to the Heavenly King. She was noble in spirit, and spurned the false gods, her faith fixed firmly on the Father Almighty, the Giver of life. She was young in her years, but her soul was steadfast.

The reeve was inflamed, filled with a fire of lust for the maiden. He longed for her beauty, and wished for her as his wife. He lavished her father with treasure and trinkets, with tokens of gold, and wooed the wealthy man with words of promise. Her father agreed, enticed by the riches, and pledged his daughter to the powerful pagan. When the noble virgin understood his vow, she swiftly sent word back to the suitor, her answer unbending. She addressed him with honor: “I can be your bride, your beloved in the hall, if you bow before God, the glorious Creator, and believe in His being, who shaped the bright heavens. If you turn to the true God, and trust in His love, and raise up His praise, then I will receive you without reservation. But if you refuse this, and hold to your heathen gods, then you cannot have me, nor force me with threats. You will find for yourself another wife for your bed; you will not win me.”

The messenger hurried, and brought his master the maiden's message. The man grew enraged, his mind in a turmoil, a tempest of fury. He commanded at once that they call her father, Africanus himself, to appear before him. When he came to the court, the cruel reeve spoke: “Your daughter has dealt me a deed of dishonor, scorned me and shamed me! She says she will not honor my hand, nor hold me as husband.” Her father flew into a fury, his face turning grim, and went home in a rage. He railed at his daughter, his words sharp with wrath, though she was his own child: “My dearest of daughters, you bring me deep sorrow, and trouble my thoughts, for you turn from this man, this reeve who is richest, most righteous in judgment, and noblest of birth. Now your bliss is all forfeit, unless you relent. You will reap bitter torment, the cruelest of punishments, if you cross him again!”

Hark! We have heard how heroes of old spoke of those days, when a dark power reigned. It was in the time of Maximian, a merciless king who across the middle-earth raised up a persecution, killed Christian people, and crushed their churches, spilling on the green fields the blood of God-praisers. A heathen warmaker, he harried the holy, the doers of right. His domain was broad, wide and worthy over the world of men, stretching across the whole of the earth. His thanes went through the towns, as he had commanded, and often stirred strife. Deluded by their deeds, they hated God’s law through their evil craft, raised up hatred, honored heathen idols, and killed the holy. They cut down the learned, burned the chosen, and savaged God’s champions with spear and with flame.

There was a reeve then, a man of rich lineage, a powerful ruler. He held the walled towns, and kept his watch in the city of Commedia, guarding his gold-hoard. He often sought idols over the word of God, serving them eagerly. His name was known as Eleusius; he held great and glorious authority. Then his heart began to burn with love for a maiden, Juliana by name. She bore in her spirit a holy faith, and took care to keep her maidenhood clean of every stain for the love of Christ.

This maiden was pledged by her father’s will to the wealthy reeve. But he did not know her heart, nor how her young spirit turned from the friendship. The fear of God was greater in her mind than all the treasure that the thane possessed. The wealthy man, a groom rich in gold, was eager in his heart that she be given to him, a bride for his hall. But she firmly refused the hero’s love, though he held in his hoard countless treasures, more than any on earth. She scorned it all, and spoke this word before the crowd of men: “I can tell you this, you need not trouble yourself any further. If you love and believe in the one true God, if you raise up His praise and know Him as the soul’s shield, then I will be ready, and without reluctance, to follow your will. But I also say, if you turn your deeds to a lesser god, to devil-worship, and hail heathen idols, you cannot have me, nor compel me with force to be your consort. You will never prepare a pain so great, a torment so hard in your hostile rage, that you could turn me from these words.”

The nobleman then became swollen with anger, stained with foul deeds. When he heard the maiden’s words, he had his swift messengers fetch her father, Africanus himself, to come for his counsel. When they came together, their spears leaning close, those warriors were both heathens, sick with sin, the father-in-law and the suitor. Then the reeve spoke, the kingdom’s keeper, to the maiden’s father, his mood menacing, his spear in his hand: “Your daughter has done me a deep dishonor! She says to my face she cares nothing for my love, nothing for our friendship. This insult is to me the greatest of griefs in my heart, that she taunts me so bitterly before this folk, and bids me worship a foreign god, above those we have known, praise him with wealth and laud him with words, or else not have her.”

The father’s face darkened after these words; he unlocked his heart: “I swear by the true gods, as I hope to find honor from them, or from you, my lord, your favor in these fortress-towns—if these words are true, dearest of men, that you tell to me, I will not spare her, but give her to ruin, great prince, into your power. Judge her to death, if it seems right to you, or let her live, as you would prefer.”

He went then, resolute and wrathful, enraged and enraged, to speak with the maiden where he knew the glad-hearted girl was dwelling. He spoke this word: “You are my daughter, the dearest and sweetest in my heart, my only one on earth, the light of my eyes, Juliana! You have foolishly chosen a reckless path, against the judgment of the wise. You refuse too fiercely, by your own counsel, your bridegroom, who is better than you, nobler on earth, and richer in treasure. He is a good friend. It is right, therefore, that you not forsake this man’s affection, his lasting love.”

The blessed maiden then gave him her answer, Juliana—her friendship with God was firmly founded: “Never will I consent to this lord’s kinship, unless he worships the God of might more keenly than he has yet, and loves with offerings the One who shaped light, heaven and earth and the sweep of the seas. Otherwise he cannot bring me to his hall. He must seek another bride with his treasures; he will have none of me here.”

Then her father, in fury, gave her a fiend’s answer, and promised no gifts: “I will see to it, as I live, if you do not turn from your foolish path, and keep serving a foreign god, forsaking those who are dearer to us, who stand as a help to this people, that you will soon pay with your life, and die in the grip of wild beasts, if you will not consent to this pact, this union of spirits. It is a great and terrible thing for one such as you to scorn our lord!”

The blessed one gave him her answer, wise and beloved of God, Juliana: “I will tell you truly, while I am living I will not work a lie. I shall never dread your judgments, nor do I feel pain from the terror of torment, the horrors of battle you furiously threaten, you worker of evil. You will never succeed, through your delusion, in turning me from the love of Christ.”

Then he was battle-mad, angry and savage, fierce and grim-hearted, a father against his daughter. He ordered her scourged, oppressed with torments, afflicted with punishments, and spoke this word: “Change your mind, and take back the words you spoke in your folly, when you scorned the worship of our gods.” The fearless one gave him her answer through her soul’s deep thought, Juliana: “You will never teach me to promise tribute to liars, to deaf and dumb devil-idols, those hateful ghosts, the worst servants of torment. But I will worship the Prince of glory, of middle-earth and of mighty power, and to Him alone I commit my all, that He may become my protector, my helper and healer against the hell-fiends.”

Then, through his anger, Africanus, her father, gave the maiden into her enemies’ power, to Eleusius. At the coming of light, he ordered her led to his judgment-seat. The company marveled at the maiden’s beauty, all the folk together. The nobleman then first greeted her, her bridegroom, with bright words: “My sweetest sunshine, Juliana! What radiance you have, a rich gift, the bloom of your youth! If you will yet please our gods, and seek protection from such mild patrons, grace from the holy, you will be spared an endless tally of terrible torments, grim agonies prepared for you, if you will not sacrifice to the true gods.”

The noble maid gave him her answer: “You will never compel me with your commands, nor prepare so many cruel punishments that I should love your lordship, unless you forsake those falsehoods, your idol-worship, and wisely acknowledge the God of glory, the shaper of souls, mankind’s maker, in whose might all creations exist, forever, without end.”

Then before the people, with a fierce heart, the lord of the folk spoke threatening words, swelling with rage. He ordered the maiden, in vengeful spite, stripped naked and scourged with whips, though she was without sin. The warrior laughed, and spoke words of scorn: “This is the first victory in our contest! Yet I will grant you your life, though you have spoken many reckless words, and refused too fiercely to love the true gods. Now a reward awaits you for your defiance, the terror of torment, unless you first make peace with them, and after your insults, offer them a worthy gift, and establish peace. Let this struggle rest, this hateful strife. If you follow this folly any longer, then I must, driven by rage, avenge this offense against the gods with the grimmest of torments, the bitterest blame for daring to strive against the best and mildest beings that men have ever known, whom this nation has long served.”

The noble spirit answered him, unafraid: “I do not dread your judgments, you cursed fiend, nor the evil of your torments. I have for my hope the Guardian of the heavenly kingdom, a mild protector, the wielder of might, who will shield me from your phantom-sorcery, from the grip of the grim ones you count as gods. They are empty of every good, idle, useless, unavailing. No man will find true peace there, though he may seek friendship from them. He will find no virtue with devils. I fix my heart on my Lord, who over all powers rules forever, the owner of glory, of every victory. That is the true King.”

Then it seemed shameful to the folk-leader that he could not turn her mind, the maiden’s resolve. He ordered her hung by her hair, hoisted up on a high beam, where the sun-bright one suffered blows, a savage assault, for six hours of the day. Then the hateful foe ordered her taken down and led away to the dungeon. But the praise of Christ was wound fast in her heart, in her mild spirit, a strength unbreakable.

Then with its bolt, the dungeon door was barred shut, a work of hammers. The holy one remained inside, steadfast. Always she praised the King of glory in her heart, the God of heaven’s kingdom, in that prison-house, the Savior of men, shrouded in shadow. The Holy Spirit was her constant companion.

Then suddenly came into that locked room the enemy of heroes, wise in evil. He had an angel’s form, that spirit-foe, that clever master of malice, a captive of hell. He spoke to the holy one: “What do you suffer, you who are dearest and most worthy to the King of glory, our Lord? This judge has prepared the worst torments for you, endless pain, if you will not sacrifice, wise-minded one, and please his gods. Be quick, when he orders you brought out from here, to offer a gift to the victory-giver, before death takes you. Thus you shall escape the judge’s anger, you blessed maiden.”

She asked him then boldly, she who was not afraid, she who was pleasing to Christ, from where he had come. The wretched creature answered her: “I am God’s angel, sent from above, a worthy thane, sent to you, holy one, from on high. Hard and terribly grim are the torments decreed for your ruin. God, the Ruler’s Son, bids you save yourself now.”

Then the maiden was struck with terror at the sudden tidings the assailant told her, that foe of glory. She began at once to steady her spirit, young and guileless, and call out to God: “Now, shield of heroes, I will ask you, eternal Almighty, by that noble creation which you, Father of angels, established at the beginning, that you not let me turn from the praise of your grace, as this messenger brings me a terrible tale. As I ask you, merciful one, I pray you reveal to me, glory of kings, guardian of majesty, who this thane is, this air-traveler, who teaches me to turn from you onto a stark road.”

A voice answered her, beautiful from the clouds, the words resounded: “Seize the pretender and hold him fast, until he tells you truly his whole journey from the beginning, and what his lineage is.”

Then the maiden’s spirit was gladdened, blessed with glory. She seized the devil...

“...to give the King of all kings to his death. And I contrived it that the soldier began to wound the Lord, as the host looked on, so that blood and water, both together, sought the earth. And I whispered to Herod’s heart that he command John to be beheaded, when that holy man rebuked his love for a woman, an unlawful marriage. I also taught Simon with cunning thoughts to contend against the chosen thanes of Christ, and he insulted those holy men with deep delusion, saying they were sorcerers. I drove Nero with snares, so that he ordered Christ’s thanes killed, Peter and Paul. Pilate before them had hung on a cross the Ruler of skies, the mighty Molder, by my teachings. Likewise I taught Aegeas that he, in his folly, should have the holy Andrew hung on a high beam, so that from the gallows he sent forth his spirit into glory’s light. Thus I, with my brothers, have brought about many wicked evils, dark sins that I cannot tell, nor fully recount, nor know the number of my hard, hateful thoughts.”

The holy one answered him, through the Spirit’s gift, Juliana: “You must tell me further, fiend of mankind, of your journey, and who sent you to me.” The assailant answered her, seized with fear, despairing of peace: “My father sent me on this errand to you, the king of hell’s inhabitants, sent me here from that narrow home. He is more eager for every evil in that house of sorrow than I am. When he sends us to turn the minds of the righteous through various errors, to twist them from salvation, we are sick at heart, and fearful in spirit. Our lord is not mild, our terrible master, if we have done no evil; we dare not then come anywhere before his face. Then he sends his thanes from the darkness across the wide world, and bids them bring torment, if we are met on the paths of the earth, or found far or near, they bind us and scourge us with torments in the surging flames. If the minds of the righteous do not turn from their path, if the hearts of the holy are not hindered, we suffer the hardest and worst punishments with painful blows. Now you yourself can know the truth in your heart, that I was driven to this venture by need, tormented time and again, to seek you out.”

Then the holy one began again to question the enemy of heroes, the worker of ruin, the source of ancient sins: “You must tell me further, fiend of souls, how you most harm the righteous through the slide of sin, you who are steeped in deceit.” The fiend answered her, the faithless wretch, and spoke these words: “I will show you, blessed maid, the start of every evil, from beginning to end, all that I have done, not on a few occasions, with the wounds of sin, so you may know more clearly that this is true, not false. I thought and believed with a bold heart that I could without trouble, by my craft alone, turn you from salvation, so you would forsake the heavenly King, the Lord of victories, and bow to a lesser, and sacrifice to the source of sin.

Thus I turn the minds of the righteous with various guises. Where I find a man fixing his heart on God’s will, I am ready at once to bring against him manifold temptations of the mind, grim thoughts, secret errors, a host of delusions. I sweeten for him the lusts of sin, wicked desires, so that he quickly heeds my teachings, entangled in vice. I kindle him so fiercely with sin that, burning, he turns from prayer; he steps out boldly, and cannot remain steadfast in the place of prayer for love of his vices. Thus I bring a hateful terror to the one I begrudge life and bright belief, and if he wishes to obey my teachings, to commit sin, he will afterward become empty of all good virtues.

But if I find any man, bold in courage, a champion of the Creator, against the storm of my arrows, who will not flee far from the fight, but, wise in heart, raises his shield, his holy buckler, his spiritual battle-gear, and will not betray God, but stands bold in prayer, firm in the ranks—then I must turn far from there, shamed and joyless, into the grip of the embers, to mourn my misery, that I could not with all my might prevail in the battle. Grieving, I must seek another, a weaker one, a slacker soldier under the standard of war, whom I can incite with my leaven, and make slow in the fight. Though he may begin some spiritual good, I am ready at once to peer into his whole mind, to see how firm his heart is within, how his defense is built. I open the gate of that wall through malice; the tower is pierced, the entrance opened, when I first send into him, with a coward’s arrow, bitter thoughts into his breast, through the mind’s many desires, so that it seems better to him to commit sins than to praise God, to follow the body’s lusts. I am an eager teacher, so that he lives by my wicked ways, turned utterly from Christ’s law, his mind marred, given to my power in the pit of sin. I care more keenly for the soul’s ruin, for the spirit’s destruction, than for the body, which in this world must become food for the worm, shrouded in soil.”

Then the maiden spoke again: “Tell me, wretched creature, unclean spirit, how you, ruler of darkness, dare to join the company of the clean? You once strove against Christ, faithless one, and waged war, plotted against the holy. The pit of hell was dug deep for you, where you, in your pride, sought a dwelling in distress. I thought you would have become more wary of such meetings with the righteous, and less bold, you who have often been thwarted by the King of glory.”

The accursed one then answered her, the wretched assailant: “You first tell me, how you, through your deep wisdom, became so daring, so bold in battle beyond all womankind, that you have bound me so fast in fetters, utterly helpless. You put your trust in the eternal God, who sits in majesty, mankind’s Molder, just as I place my hope in my father, the king of hell’s inhabitants. When I am sent against the righteous, to turn their minds to wicked works, their hearts from salvation, sometimes my will is thwarted by their resistance, my hope at the holy ones dashed, as has happened to me here, sorrow on my journey. I learned this myself, far too late, and now, a sinner, I must long suffer shame. Therefore I beseech you, by the might of the Highest, by the grace of the King of heaven, He who suffered on the cross-tree, the Prince of glory, that you show mercy to me in my need, that I, the unhappy one, do not utterly perish, though I rashly and foolishly sought you out on this path, where I never expected such a trial for myself.”

Then the fair-shining candle of glory spoke these words to the oath-breaker: “You must confess more of your evil deeds, lowly hell-spirit, before you may go from here, what great and wicked works you have wrought to the ruin of mankind with your dark delusions.” The devil answered her: “Now I hear from your speech that I must, driven by need and compelled by force, reveal my mind, as you command me, and suffer this torment. This trial is too strong, this threat immense. I must suffer and submit to your judgment in all things, and reveal the wicked deeds I have widely sown.

Often I have stolen sight, blinded countless men with evil thoughts, veiled their eyes’ light with a mist-helm, with dark showers of poison. I have broken the feet of some with my wicked snares, sent some into fire, into the embrace of flames, so that their footprints were seen for the last time. I have also made some spew blood from their bone-locks, so that they suddenly gave up their lives through the surging of their veins. Some on the sea-path were sunk by the waters, drowned in the flood-tide, under the rushing stream by my crafts. Some I delivered to the cross, so that they, grieving, gave up their lives on the high gallows. Some I drew with my teachings, drove them to strife, so that they suddenly renewed old grudges, drunk on beer. I poured them strife from a cup, so that in the wine-hall, by the grip of a sword, they sent their souls from their bodies, fated to fall, beset by sorrows. Some, whom I found without God’s sign, careless, unblessed, I boldly struck with my own hands, with cunning thoughts, through various torments. I cannot recount, though I were to sit for a summer-long day, all the evils I have ever worked with deceit, since first the heavens were raised and the stars set their course, the earth made fast and the first people, Adam and Eve, from whom I tore life, and taught them to forsake the Lord’s love, His eternal grace, their bright, blessed home, so that misery became their lot for life, and for their children also, the darkest of deeds. Why should I recount more of this endless evil? I have borne all the wicked strife across the world that has ever befallen the race of men, the nobles on earth, from the world’s beginning. There was none among them who dared to touch me as boldly as you now do, holy one, with your hands. No man on earth was so brave through holy might, no patriarch, no prophet. Though the God of hosts, the King of glory, revealed to them the spirit of wisdom, a measureless gift, I was still allowed to approach them. There was none who so boldly bound me in chains, crushed me with force, until you now have overcome my great might, seized me fast— the power my father, the fiend of mankind, gave me when he, the prince of darkness, bid me go forth to sweeten sin for you. There sorrow befell me, a heavy hand-struggle. I shall have no cause to laugh about this journey among my kinsmen, when I, grieving, must give my tribute in that grim home.”

Then the reeve, the gallows-minded man, ordered Juliana, holy in heart, to be led out from that narrow house to speak to the heathens at his judgment-seat. She dragged the devil, her breast burning with zeal, bound fast in chains, the holy one dragging the heathen. He began, sorrowful, to lament his journey, to bewail his pain, to decry his fate, and spoke these words: “I beseech you, my lady, Juliana, for the sake of God’s peace, that you do me no further shame, no insult before these nobles, than you did before, when you overcame the wisest one under the shadows, the king of hell’s inhabitants in the city of fiends. That is our father, the foul lord of murder. See how you crush me with painful blows! I know for a truth that I have never, before or since, met any woman in the world like you, of bolder thought or more defiant mind in all of maidenkind. It is clear in me that you have become in every way shameless, and wise in spirit.”

Then the maiden let him go after that hard time, that soul-assaulter, to seek the darkness, the black abyss, into the ruin of torments. He knew all the better, that herald of evil, what to tell his kin, the thanes of torment, of how he had fared on his journey.

...they had eagerly praised Him on high, and His holy word, saying truly that He alone, over all creation, wielded every victory, every eternal grace. Then an angel of God came, gleaming with jewels, and scattered the fire, freed and protected her, clean of all evil, free of all fault, and threw apart the flame, the sword-greedy fire, where the holy one stood, the boldest of maidens, unharmed in the middle. For the wealthy reeve, this was a hard thing to bear. Stained with sin, he sought how he might, in the most sorrowful way, through the worst of torments, find a way to kill her. The fiend was not slow, who taught him to have an earthen vessel made with wondrous craft, and piled high with wood. Then the hard man commanded that the clay vessel be filled with lead, and ordered the greatest of pyres to be kindled, a bale-fire lit, surrounded on all sides with brands. The bath boiled hot. Then, swollen with anger, he ordered the faultless one to be shoved, guiltless, into the surging lead. The flame was split apart, the fire loosed. The lead sprang wide, hot and sword-greedy. The men were terrified, startled by the rush. There, in number, burned by the fire’s blast, seventy-five of the heathen host. Yet the holy one stood with her beauty unblemished. Not her veil nor her robe, not her hair nor her skin was marked by the fire, not her body nor limbs. She stood in the flame entirely sound, and gave thanks for it all to the Lord of lords.

Then the judge became fierce and grim-hearted, and began to tear his robes. He gnashed his teeth and ground them, went mad in his mind like a wild beast, roared with a gallows-spirit and reviled his gods, because they could not with their might withstand a woman’s will. The glorious maid was resolute and unafraid, mindful of her strength, of the Lord’s will. Then the judge, sorrowful, ordered the holy-hearted one slain by the sword’s bite, her head taken from her, she who was chosen by Christ. But that death did not profit him.

Then the holy one’s hope was renewed, and the maiden’s mind was greatly gladdened, once she heard the men discussing their wicked plan, that the final chapter of her days of struggle was to be, her life released. The one full of faults ordered the clean and chosen one led to her death, the sinless one. Then suddenly came a lowly hell-spirit, and sang a song of harm, wretched and accursed, the one she had earlier bound and scourged with torments. He cried out before the crowd, full of evil spells: “Pay her back now with malice, for she scorned the might of our gods, and shamed me most of all, so that I became an informant! Let her receive a hateful reward by the weapon’s point, avenge the old grudge, the sins she has sought! I remember the sorrow, how, bound fast, I suffered countless troubles in a single night, immeasurable evil.”

Then the blessed one, Juliana, looked back at the grim fiend; she heard the devil of hell singing his harm. The fiend of mankind began to flee, to seek his torments, and spoke this word: “Woe to me, undone! Now there is great risk that she will again abase me, poor wretch, with evil afflictions, as she did before.”

Then she was led near the land’s border, to the place where the stark-hearted men, through their banner-hate, intended to kill her. She began then to teach and to strengthen the people, to turn them from sins, and promised them comfort, a way to glory, and spoke this word: “Remember the joy of warriors and the glory of majesty, the hope of the holy, the God of heaven’s angels. He is worthy that all people, and all the angel-kin up in the heavens, should praise His high might. There help is at hand, eternal for all time, for him who shall have it. Therefore, dear people, I wish to teach you, that you should fasten your house, lest sudden blasts of wind destroy it. The wall must stand all the stronger, firm against the storms of sin, the thoughts of vice. With love and peace, with bright belief, you must fix your foundation, steadfast in mind, on the living stone, with true faith. And hold peace in your hearts, the holy counsel, through your mind’s desire. Then the Father Almighty will give you grace, where you will have comfort from the God of might, in your greatest need after these days of sorrow. For you do not know your own going-out from here, the end of your life. It seems wise to me that you, watchful, should keep guard against the horrors of battle from your hateful foes, lest the enemy bar your way to the city of glory. Pray to the Son of God that the Prince of angels, mankind’s Molder, be mild to me, the Giver of victories. Peace be with you, and true love always.”

Then her soul was led from her body to the long-lasting joy, through the stroke of a sword. Then that sinner, the terrified Eleusius, with his troop of fiends, sought the sea-stream by ship, and tossed over the flood for a long while on the swan’s road. Death took them all, that host of men, and himself with them, before they had reached the land, through a terrible torment. There thirty-four of that warrior-kin were deprived of their lives by the wave’s surge, lowly with their lord, bereft of joy, without hope they sought hell. Those thanes had no need to expect, in that dark home, that company in the deep abyss, that their treasure-giver would grant them rings in the wine-hall, apple-gold from the beer-bench.

It was far different for the holy one. Her body was led with songs of praise, by a great company, to its grave of earth. A great host of people brought it into the city. There, since that time, in the course of years, God’s praise has been raised with great majesty among the people, even to this day.

I have great need that the holy one should grant me her help, when my dearest companions, my soul and my body, are divided, their great love sundered. My soul must go forth from my body on a journey—I know not where, to an unknown land. I must go from here, to seek another place, according to my past deeds. Sorrowful, my soul must journey; a flickering Torch, a taut Bow of grief, it is bound by Need. The King will be stern, the Giver of victories, when, stained by sin on this grim Journey, where Joy is lost and Strength has failed, I wait in terror for what He will decree as my life’s reward, according to my deeds. Adrift on a Sea of sorrow, my spirit trembles, and lingers, grief-stricken. I remember all the pain, the wounds of sin, that I, sooner or later, wrought in the world. For that I must weep, mourning with tears. It was too late a time that I felt shame for my evil deeds, while spirit and body traveled together, sound in the land. Then I will need grace, that the holy one may intercede for me with the highest King. Great sorrow of heart reminds me of this need.

I ask every person of humankind, who recites this poem, that he, mindful, earnestly remember me by my name, and pray to the Molder that the Helm of the heavens grant me help, the Wielder of might, on the Great Day, the Father, the Spirit of comfort, in that fearful time, the Judge of deeds, and the dear Son, when the Trinity, sitting in majesty, in oneness, shall assign to the race of men, throughout bright creation, rewards for their works to every person. Grant us, God of might, that we may find Your face, joy of princes, mild and merciful in that glorious time. Amen.