The Departing Soul's Address to the Body: A Fragment of a Semi-Saxon Poem: Discovered Among the Archives of Worcester Cathedral — John Shaqi
The Departing Soul's Address to the Body: A Fragment of a Semi-Saxon Poem: Discovered Among the Archives of Worcester Cathedral
Religion
The Departing Soul's Address to the Body: A Fragment of a Semi-Saxon Poem: Discovered Among the Archives of Worcester Cathedral
Poetry
510 and death has caught thee;
mid clutes thu ert forl_ig_den. thou art laid out with rags,
and loth alle freonden. and loath to all thy friends,
efre ma eft. for ever and ever
on to lokienne. to look on.
thus is reoulic_he thin_ sith. 515 Thus rueful is thy lot,
efter thine wrecche lif. after thy wicked life;
for thu were beset. for thou wert beset
thicke mid sunne. thick with sin,
and alle _theo_ weren prickiende. and they all were pricking
so wiles on ile. 520 like quills on porcupine;
he bith thicke mid wiles. he is thick _set_ with quills;
ne prikieth he_om_ no wiht. they prick him not,
for al bith that softe. for the soft part is all
iwend to him sulfen. turned to himself,
that ne mawen his wil_es_. 525 that his quills cannot
_pri_kien him sore. prick him sore,
for al bith that scearpe. for the points are all
him iwend fromward. turned him fromward.
So thu we_ren_ mid sunne. Thus thou wert with sin
iset alle with inne. 530 beset all within;
theo sunfule pikes. those sinful pikes
prikieth me fuls_ore_. prick me full sore,
_ac thu al that_ softe was. but thou all that was soft
iwend to the sulven. turned to thyself,
and efre thet scerpe. 535 and ever the sharp
scored me touar_des_. scored me towards,
heo weren iwend. they were turned
so me wurst was. as was worst for me,
ich was mid thine prickunge. I was with the pricking
ipin_ed ful_sore. 540 pained ful sore:
ac nu me wulleth prikien. but now will prick me
theo pikes inne helle. those pikes in hell;
pinion me ful so_re_. punish me full sore
for thine sunne. for thy sin.
Ic was on heihnes isceapen. 545 On high was I created,
and soule ihoten. and named soul.
Ic was the seo_fothe_ isceaft. I was the seventh creation,
So theo bec seggeth. as the book says,
the the Almihti God. that Almighty God
mildeliche iwrouhte. 550 mercifully wrought.
wisli_che_ mid worde. Truly by his word
so hit al iwearth. thus it all came to pass:
heouene and eorthe. heaven and earth,
luft and engles. air and angels,
wind and wa_tere_. 555 wind and water,
thæs monnes soule. the soul of man,
this beoth theo seouene. these are the seven
the ic ær foreseide. that I before mentioned.
this was ma_kede_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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