When
the land was sunk
In
heathen darkness,
One
holy hermit
Wandered
about
On
his two bare feet,
Speaking
words of truth.
But
so tormenting
Was
his speech to the souls
Of
his hearers
That
they laid him flat
And
bound him fast,
Each
hand and foot,
To
four wooden posts,
And
flayed the flesh
From
off his bones
Till
life left his body.
But
the holiness of God
That
had dwelt within him
Did
not depart at his death,
But
remained, and overflowed
In
such a measure
That
the posts that held
The
outstretched limbs
Of
the martyr
Received
life once more
And
grew to great height
In
the sight of all.
And
their being was changed,
As
all then shone,
Leaf
and branch and bough,
With
a light, whether day or night,
Of
clear crystal brightness
That
showered the land
For
many miles around.
And
they were now
Continually
with flower
And
fruit: The former
Putting
forth a fragrance sweeter
Than
any had smelled before;
The
latter, as soon was known
By
the folk, imparted healing
To
those who ate thereof.
All
who beheld
How
this scene of slaughter
Had
become so fair and lovely
Were
overawed.
The
king of that land
Was
so struck with wonder
That
he straightway
Cast
aside and cursed
His
heathen gods
And
embraced the God
Of
the hermit.
All
those present
Could
do no less,
And
ere long the whole land
Was
teeming with these
New
faithful folk.
That
king soon built
A
costly shrine
In
the midst of the Four Trees
And
laid the holy body
Within
it himself,
And
after a kiss
And
many prostrations,
Beseeched
his prayers
For
his kingdom,
His
family,
And
for his own self.
From
then on did he
And
his sons after him
For
many generations
Rule
the people
From
a throne that stood
Before
the brightness
Of
the Four Trees.
And
in all matters,
Small
or great or ‘tween,
The
priest of God,
Who
served at the martyr’s shrine,
Was
ever his counsellor.
The
king likewise
Never
failed to defend
That
holy place from any
Who
would dare profane it.
And
the whole life of that land
Became
woven through and round
The
shrine of the hermit
And
the life-bearing Trees,
To
which throngs of pilgrims
Flowed
unceasingly.
Yet,
after many years had passed,
After
many bairn-teams had grown
Accustomed
to the blessings
Bestowed
on them by God
Through
the hermit and his Trees -
Deliverance
from enemies,
Abundance
of crop and cow,
Birth
of ruddy children multiplied -
Their
fervor waned,
Their
faith-heat cooled,
And
indifference
Began
to reign.
And
no longer
Were
men willing to serve
As
priests at the shrine
Or
at any temple of God.
So
when merchants
Came
seeking seamen
For
their journeys,
A
host went away with them.
And
one of the Four Trees
Became
blighted and died.
And
when teachers
Of
other faiths and dogmas
Appeared
in the land,
No
few followed after them.
And
one of the Four Trees
Became
blighted and died.
And
when disciples
Of
the old heathen gods
Came
out of hiding
And
bade the people
Return
to the old ways
Of
their forebears,
Lo,
many did so.
And
one of the Four Trees
Became
blighted and died.
And
when rationalists
Came
and said that
All
gods are false
But
man and his desires,
They
too gathered men as spoils.
And
the last of the Four Trees
Became
blighted and died.
In
those days the king
Was
old and weary with age.
Long
and white was his beard,
And
despair weighed down
His
hoary head
With
a weight far greater
Than
his golden,
Jewel-bestudded
crown.
And
when the light
From
the last of the Four Trees
Ceased
to shine, he let out
A
deep sigh, and drew breath no more.
Then
Heaven’s Master,
In
sorrow at these acts,
Bade
the earth to hide
The
martyr’s body in her breast.
And
though the sun still rose,
And
the moon her monthly cycle kept,
And
the stars wheeled across the nighttime sky,
No
one understood what deep darkness
Had
o’ertaken the land once more.
--
Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England,
South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð,
unworthy though we are!
Anathema to the Union!