I have heard that hidden Afar from hence On the east of earth Is a fairest isle, Lovely and famous. The lap of that land May not be reached By many mortals, Dwellers on earth; But it is divided Through the might of the Maker From all misdoers. Fair is the field, Full happy and glad, Filled with the sweetest Scented flowers. Unique is that island, Almighty the worker Mickle of might Who moulded that land. There oft lieth open To the eyes of the blest, With happiest harmony, The gate of heaven. Winsome its woods And its fair green wolds, Roomy with reaches. No rain there nor snow, Nor breath of frost, Nor fiery blast, Nor summer's heat, Nor scattered sleet, Nor fall of hail, Nor hoary rime, Nor weltering weather, Nor wintry shower, Falleth on any; But the field resteth Ever in peace, And the princely land Bloometh with blossoms. Berg there nor mount Standeth not steep, Nor stony crag High lifteth the head, As here with us, Nor vale, nor dale, Nor deep-caverned down, Hollows or hills; Nor hangeth aloft Aught of unsmooth; But ever the plain, Basks in the beam, Joyfully blooming. Twelve fathoms taller Towereth that land (As quoth in their writs Many wise men) Than ever a berg That bright among mortals High lifteth the head Among heaven's stars. Two noteworthy points may be marked in this extract. Its feeling for natural scenery is quite different from the wild sublimity of the descriptions of nature in _Beowulf_. Cynewulf's verse is essentially the verse of an agriculturist; it looks with disfavour upon mountains and rugged scenes, while its ideal is one of peaceful tillage. The monk speaks out in it as cultivator and dreamer. Its tone is wholly different from that of the Brunanburh ballad or the other fierce war-songs. Moreover, it contains one or two rimes, preserved in this translation, whose full significance will be pointed out hereafter.