Where in Achaia holy Andrew dwelt, Guiding his people in the way of life, 170 A voice was heard from out the heavens above. To him, that steadfast saint, the Lord of hosts, Glory of kings, Creator of mankind, Unlocked the treasure of His heart, and thus In words He spake:--"Thou shalt go forth and bear My peace, and journeying shalt fare where men, Devourers of their kind, possess the land, And hold their home secure by murderous might. This is the custom of that multitude: Within their land they spare no stranger's life, But when those evil-doers chance to find A helpless wight in Mermedonia, 180 Death must be dealt and cruel murder done. I know that 'mongst those townsmen, fast in chains, Thy brother dwells, that saint victorious. It lacks but three nights of the time ordained, When, midst that people, by the hard-gripped spear, In struggle with the heathens, he must needs Send forth his soul all ready to depart; Unless thou come before the appointed time." Straightway did Andrew answer him again: "My Lord, how can I o'er the ocean deep 190 My course accomplish, to that distant shore, As speedily as Thou, O King of glory, Creator of the heavens, dost command? That road thine angel can more easily Traverse from heaven; he knows the watery ways, The salt sea-streams, the wide path of the swan, The battle of the surf against the shore, The terror of the waters, and the tracks Across the boundless land. These foreign men Are not my trusty friends, nor do I know In any wise the counsels of this folk; 200 To me the cold sea-highways are unknown."