Dream of the Rood

For Good Friday, here is an extract from one of my favourite poems, the Anglo-Saxon Dream of the Rood, thought to be one of the oldest poems in the English language. Rood is the old word for cross or crucifix.

Hwæt! Ic swefna cyst secgan wylle,
hwaet me gemætte to midre nihte,
syðþan reordberend reste wunedon!
þuhte me þæt ic gesawe syllicre treow
on lyft lædan, leohte bewunden,
beama beorhtost. Eall þæt beacen wæs
begoten mid golde. Gimmas stodon
fægere æt foldan sceatum, swylce þær fife wæron
uppe on þam eaxlegespanne. Beheolden þær engel drythtnes ealle,
fægere þurh forðgesceaft. Ne wæs ðær huru fracodes gealaga,
ac hine þær beheoldon halige gastas,
men ofer moldan, ond eall þeos mære gesceaft.
Syllic wæs se sigebeam, ond ic synnum fah,
forwunded mid wommum. Geseah ic wuldres treow,
waedum geweorðode, wynnum scinan,
gegyred mid golde; gimmas hæfdon
bewrigene weorðlice wealdendes treow.
Hwæðre ic þuhr þæt gold ongytan meahte
earmra ærgewin, þæt hit ærest ongan
swætan on þa swiðran healfe.

It loses something in translation, but because the Old English is so hard to read, here is a rough version in modern English:

Listen! I will tell the best of visions,
What came to me in the middle of the night,
When the speach-bearers took their rest!
I thought that I saw a most wondrous tree,
Lifted on high, wound round with light,
Brightest of beams. That same beacon was
Shining with gold. Gems stood
At the corners of the earth, and five were there also
Upon the crossbeam. All there beheld the angels of the Lord,
Fair through creation. This was no wicked gallows,
But beheld there by holy spirits,
By men over all the earth, and by all creation.
Wondrous was the victory-tree, and I stained by sin,
With guilt wounded. Saw I this wondrous tree,
Arrayed in garments, with joys shining,
Gilded in gold; gems had
Gloriously covered this tree of the forest.
Yet, through the gold, I perceived
The age-old battle of good and evil, so that
On the right side the cross began to bleed.

Old English should really be spoken aloud, so here is a reading of the poem I rather like; it also has the words to the poem in both Old and modern English, which is handy:

Popule meus, quid feci tibi? aut in quo contristavi te? Responde mihi. Quia eduxi te de terra Aegypti: parasti crucem Salvatori tuo.

 ~ Reproaches from the Good Friday liturgy