Thus spake the holy champion, wise of heart, He taught his thanes, that blessed warrior; He stablished his men, till suddenly Sleep came upon them weary by the mast. The sea grew still, the onset of the waves Turned back again, rough tumult of the flood. Then was the soul of that brave saint rejoiced, After that time of terror; wise in wit, In counsel prudent, he began to speak And thus unlocked the treasure of his words:-- 470 "I never found a better mariner, More skilled than thou in sea-craft, as I think, A stouter oarsman, one more wise in words, Sager in counsel. I will beg of thee Yet one more boon, hero most excellent; Though little treasure I can give to thee, Jewels or beaten gold, I fain would win Thy friendship, if I might, most glorious lord. So shalt thou gain good gifts, and blessed joy 480 In heavenly glory, if of thy great lore Thou'rt bountiful to weary voyagers. One art I fain would learn of thee, brave sir; That since the Lord, the Maker of mankind, Hath given might and honor unto thee, Thou shouldst instruct me how thou pointest out The course of this thy billow-riding ship, Thy sea-horse wet with spray. Though sixteen times, In former days and late, I've been to sea, 490 And rowed with freezing hands upon the deep, The ocean-streams--this makes one voyage more-- Yet even so mine eyes have ne'er beheld A mighty captain steering at the stern Like unto thee. Loud roars the surging flood, Beats on the shore; this sea-boat is full fleet; It fareth foamy-necked most like a bird, And glides upon the deep. I surely know, I never saw upon the ocean-road Such wondrous skill in any seafarer. 500 It is as though the ship were on the land, Where neither storm nor wind can make it move, Nor water-floods can break it, lofty-prowed; Yet on the sea it hasteth under sail. And thou art young, defense of warriors, Not old in winters, rider of the surge; Yet in thy heart thou hast the noble speech Of princes, and dost wisely understand All words employed by men upon the earth." Him answered then the everlasting Lord:-- 510 "Full oft it happens when we sail the sea That with our ships, our ocean-coursing steeds, We break our way across the watery roads[1]-- We and our seamen--when the tempest comes, And many times we suffer sore distress Upon the waves, though sailing bravely on We end our journey; for the seething flood Can hinder no man 'gainst the Maker's will. The power of life He holds--He who doth bind The billows, and doth threaten and rebuke The dusky waves. With justice He shall rule 520 The nations--He who raised the firmament, And made it fast with His own hands; who wrought And did uphold; and with His glory filled Bright Paradise--so was the angels' home Made blessed by His sole eternal might. [Footnote 1: Lit. "bath-road."]