A hand clay-cold upon the unechoing shell, Missing their inspiration's human half. Thus Ceadmon sang, and ceased. Silent awhile The concourse stood, for all had risen, as though Waiting from heaven its echo. Each on each Gazed hard and caught his hands. Fiercely ere long Their gratulating shout aloft had leaped But Hilda laid her finger on her lip, Or provident lest praise might stain the pure, Or deeming song a gift too high for praise. She spake: 'Through help of God thy song is sound: Now hear His Holy Word, and shape therefrom A second hymn, and worthier than the first.' She spake, and Finan standing bent his head Above the sacred tome in reverence stayed Upon his kneeling deacon's hands and brow, And sweetly sang five verses, thus beginning, '_Cum esset desponsata_,' and was still; And next rehearsed them in the Anglian tongue: Then Ceadmon took God's Word into his heart, And ruminating stood, as when the kine, Their flowery pasture ended, ruminate; And was a man in thought. At last the light Shone from his dubious countenance, and he spake: 'Great Mother, lo! I saw a second Song! T'wards me it sailed; but with averted face, And borne on shifting winds. A man am I Sluggish and slow, that needs must muse and brood; Therefore those verses till the sun goes down Will I revolve. If song from God be mine Expect me here at morn.' The morrow morn In that high presence Ceadmon stood and sang A second song, and worthier than his first; And Hilda said, 'From God it came, not man; Thou therefore live a monk among my monks, And sing to God.' Doubtful he stood--'From youth My place hath been with kine; their ways I know, And how to cure their griefs,' Smiling she spake, 'Our convent hath its meads, and kine; with these Consort each morn: at noon to us return.' Then Ceadmon knelt, and bowed, and said, 'So be it:' And aged Finan, and Northumbria's king Oswy, approved; and all that host had joy.