Chaste songs be mine, not the rape of foul Helen; let wantonness be for the lewd, chaste songs be mine. Let me speak of gifts from on high, not the battles of wretched Troy; the gifts from on high in which earth rejoices, let me speak. Behold, the high God enters the womb of a venerable virgin, that he may free mankind, behold, the high God enters. A virgin woman, devoted, bears the Parent of the world; Mary the Gate of God, a virgin woman bears. The friendly company rejoices over the Virgin Mother of the Thunderer; gleaming with virginity, the friendly company rejoices. Her honour begot many from a chaste stock, virgin flowers her honour begot. Burnt with fierce fires, the virgin Agatha did not yield, and Eulalia endures, burnt with fierce fires. Chaste Thecla overcomes wild beasts for the height of her mind, and chaste Euphemia overcomes the sacred beasts.
Agnes, stronger than iron, laughs gladly at the swords, Cecilia laughs gladly at the hostile swords. Great is the triumph that flourishes throughout the world through sober hearts; the love of sobriety flourishes greatly throughout the world. Our own age too a noble virgin has now blessed; Æthelthryth shines, our own noble one too. Sprung from an excellent father, and illustrious by royal lineage, she is nobler to the Lord, sprung from an excellent father. Thence she receives the honour of a queen and sceptres beneath the stars, but remaining far above the stars, thence she receives honour. Why seekest thou a husband, bountiful one, already given to the highest bridegroom? The Bridegroom Christ is at hand; why seekest thou a husband, bountiful one? I believe now that thou followest the Mother of the heavenly King, that thou too mayest be the mother of the heavenly King.
The bride consecrated to God had reigned twice six years, and in the monastery is the bride consecrated to God. Wholly consecrated to heaven, where she flourished by lofty deeds, she rendered up her soul also, wholly consecrated to heaven. The virgin's bountiful flesh was entombed on the sixteenth of November, nor does the virgin's bountiful flesh rot in the tomb. O Christ, it is of thy working, that the very garment also in the sepulchre shines inviolate: O Christ, it is of thy working. The hydra and the dark one depart for the honour of the holy garment, diseases flee, the hydra and the dark one depart. Zeal rages in the foe, who once had conquered Eve; the virgin triumphs exulting, zeal rages in the foe. Behold, O bride of God, what glory is thine on earth; what awaits thee in heaven, behold, O bride of God.
Joyful gifts thou receivest, resplendent with festive torches; behold the bridegroom comes, joyful gifts thou receivest. And thou playest new songs upon a sweet-sounding plectrum, the bride exults in hymn, both new and sweet-sounding. None separates thee from the company of the Lamb of the lofty throne, whom by affection none had separated from the company of the Lamb of the lofty throne. In the ninth year of Ecgfrith's reign, a grievous battle being joined between him and Æthelred, king of the Mercians, near the river Trent, Ælfwine, brother of King Ecgfrith, was slain, a youth of about eighteen years, much beloved by both provinces. For King Æthelred had his sister, who was called Osthryth, as wife.
And when the cause of a sharper war and of a longer enmity seemed to have arisen between the fierce kings and peoples, Theodore, the bishop beloved of God, exercising divine aid, by his saving exhortation utterly extinguished the conflagration of so great a peril which had begun; insomuch that, the kings and peoples being reconciled to one another, no man's life was given for the slain brother of the king, but only the due fine of money was paid to the avenging king. And the covenants of this peace endured for a long time thereafter between those same kings and their kingdoms. In the aforesaid battle, in which King Ælfwine was slain, it is agreed that a certain memorable thing happened, which I judge ought by no means to be passed over in silence, but, if it be related, will be of profit to the salvation of many.
There was slain there, among others of his soldiery, a youth named Imma; who, when on that day and the following night he lay among the corpses of the slain like one dead, at length, his spirit being recovered, revived, and sitting up bound his own wounds, as best he could, himself; then, having rested a little, he raised himself and began to depart, in case he might somewhere find friends who would take care of him. While he was doing this, he was found and captured by men of the hostile army, and brought to their lord, namely a thegn of King Æthelred. Being asked by him who he was, he was afraid to confess that he had been a soldier; he answered rather that he had been a peasant and a poor man, and bound by the marriage tie;
and he testified that he had come on the expedition with others like himself for the purpose of bringing provisions to the soldiers. But that man, taking him in, attended to his wounds; and when he began to recover, ordered him to be bound by night, lest he should escape. Yet he could not be bound; for as soon as those who had bound him departed, his bonds were loosed. For he had a brother by birth, whose name was Tunna, a priest and abbot of a monastery in the city which to this day is named after him Tunnacaestir; who, when he heard that he had been slain in the battle, came to seek whether perchance he might find his body, and finding another in all respects very like to him, thought it was himself;
and carrying it to his own monastery, he buried it honourably, and took care often to offer Masses for the absolution of his soul. By the celebration of these it came to pass, as I have said, that none could bind him, but he was immediately loosed. Meanwhile the thegn who held him began to wonder and to ask why he could not be bound, whether perchance he had loosing letters about him, such as the tales tell of, on account of which he could not be bound. But he answered that he knew nothing of such arts; But I have, said he, a brother, a priest in my province, and I know that he, thinking me slain, makes frequent Masses for me; and if I were now in the other life, my soul would there, through his intercessions, be loosed from punishments.
And while he was kept for some time with the thegn, those who considered him more carefully perceived, from his face and bearing and speech, that he was not of the poor common folk, as he had said, but of the noble. Then the thegn, calling him aside secretly, asked him more earnestly whence he was, promising that he would do him no harm if he would simply disclose to him who he had been. And when he did this, declaring that he had been a minister of the king, the thegn answered: I had perceived through your every answer that you were no peasant, and now indeed you are worthy of death, since all my brothers and kinsmen were slain in that battle; yet I will not kill you, lest I should transgress the faith of my promise.
As soon therefore as he had recovered, he sold him at London to a certain Frisian; but neither by that man, nor while he was being led thither, could he in any way be bound. But when his enemies put one and another kind of fetters upon him, and when the one who had bought him saw that he could not be held by bonds, he gave him the faculty of redeeming himself, if he could. Now from the third hour, when Masses were wont to be performed, his bonds were very often loosed. And he, having given his oath that he would either return, or send him the money for himself, came into Kent to King Hlothere, who was the son of the sister of Queen Æthelthryth, of whom we have spoken above, since he himself too had once been a minister of that same queen;
and he sought and received from him the price of his redemption, and sent it, as he had promised, to his lord on his behalf. He, after these things, returning to his own country and coming to his brother, recounted in order all the things that had befallen him adversely, and what comforts had come to him in his adversities; and he learned, from his brother's report, that his bonds had been loosed chiefly at those times in which the solemnities of Masses had been celebrated for him. And he understood too that the other advantages and prosperous things which had befallen him in his peril had been granted to him from heaven through his brother's intercession and the offering of the saving Victim.
And many hearing these things from the aforesaid man were kindled in faith and in the devotion of piety to pray, or to give alms, or to offer to God the victims of the holy oblation, for the deliverance of their own who had departed from the world; for they understood that the saving sacrifice availed for the everlasting redemption both of soul and of body. This history some of those also who heard it from the very man in whom it took place related to me; whence, since I have clearly ascertained it, I have believed it should without doubt be inserted into our ecclesiastical history.
In the year following this, that is in the year of the Lord's incarnation 680, the most religious handmaid of Christ Hild, abbess of the monastery which is called Whitby, as we have related above, after many heavenly works which she did on earth, was taken from earth to receive the rewards of the heavenly life, and passed away on the fifteenth of the Kalends of December, when she was sixty-six years old; these years being divided into equal portions, she completed the first thirty-three living most nobly in the secular habit, and consecrated the same number following, more nobly still, to the Lord in the monastic life. For she was also noble by birth, that is, the daughter of the nephew of King Edwin, by name Hereric;
and together with that same king, at the preaching of Paulinus of blessed memory, the first bishop of the Northumbrians, she received the faith and sacraments of Christ, and kept these inviolate until she merited to come to the vision of him. And when, having relinquished the secular habit, she had resolved to serve him alone, she withdrew to the province of the East Angles, for she was a kinswoman of that king's, desiring thence, if in any way she could, having abandoned her native land and all whatsoever she had possessed, to come to Gaul, and in the monastery of Chelles to lead the life of a pilgrim for the Lord, so that she might the more easily merit a perpetual fatherland in heaven.
For in that same monastery her sister Heresuid, mother of Aldwulf, king of the East Angles, subject to the regular disciplines, was at that very time awaiting the eternal crown; emulating whose example, she herself too was kept for a whole year in the aforesaid province with the intention of going on pilgrimage; then, recalled to her own country by Bishop Aidan, she received a place of one household on the northern bank of the river Wear, where likewise for one year she led the monastic life with very few companions. After this she was made abbess in the monastery which is called Hartlepool;
which monastery, namely, had been made not long before by the religious handmaid of Christ Heiu, who is said to have been the first of women in the province of the Northumbrians to take up the purpose and garment of the nun's habit, Bishop Aidan consecrating her. But she, not long after the founding of the monastery, withdrew to the city of Calcaria, which by the English nation is called Kælcacaestir, and there established a dwelling for herself. And the handmaid of Christ Hild, being set over the governance of that monastery, soon took care to order it in all things by the regular life, according as she was able to learn from learned men;
for both Bishop Aidan and all the religious who knew her, on account of the wisdom implanted in her and her love of the divine service, were wont diligently to visit her, earnestly to love her, and carefully to instruct her. When therefore she had for some years presided over this monastery, much intent on the establishment of the regular life, it befell her also to undertake the building or ordering of a monastery in the place which is called Whitby, which work, enjoined upon her, she fulfilled not slothfully. For she established this also by the same disciplines of the regular life as the former monastery; and indeed there too she taught much keeping of righteousness, piety, and chastity, and of the other virtues, but most of all of peace and charity;
so that, after the example of the primitive Church, no one there was rich, no one was needy, all things were common to all, since nothing seemed to be the private property of anyone. So great moreover was her prudence, that not only did ordinary folk in their necessities, but even kings and princes sometimes sought and found counsel from her. She made those subject to her give themselves so much to the reading of the divine Scriptures, and exercise themselves so much in works of righteousness, that very many could most easily be found there who were fit to undertake the ecclesiastical degree, that is, the office of the altar.
In short, we have since seen five bishops from that same monastery, all of them men of singular merit and holiness, whose names are these: Bosa, Ætla, Oftfor, John, and Wilfrid. Of the first we have said above that he was consecrated bishop of York; of the second it must be briefly noted that he was ordained to the bishopric of Dorchester; of the last two it will be told below, that the first of them was ordained bishop of the church of Hexham, the second of York. Let us now speak of the middle one, for after he had devoted himself to the reading and observance of the Scriptures in both of Abbess Hild's monasteries, at length, desiring things yet more perfect, he came to Kent, to Archbishop Theodore of blessed memory.
There, after he had for some while given himself to sacred reading, he also took care to journey to Rome, which in that age was reckoned a thing of great virtue; and when, returning thence, he had come to Britain, he turned aside to the province of the Hwicce, over which King Osric then ruled. There, preaching the word of faith and at the same time displaying to those who saw and heard him an example of holy living, he remained for a long time. At that time the bishop of that province, Bosel by name, was so weighed down by bodily infirmity that he could not himself fulfil the office of his bishopric.
On which account, by the judgement of all, the aforesaid man was chosen bishop in his place, and at the command of King Æthelred he was ordained by Wilfrid, bishop of blessed memory, who at that time held the bishopric of the Midland Angles; and this because Archbishop Theodore was now dead, and no other had yet been ordained bishop in his stead. Into that same province, a little before — that is, before the aforesaid man of God, Bosel — a most energetic and learned man of outstanding ability, Tatfrid by name, had been chosen bishop from the monastery of that same abbess; but, before he could be ordained, he was carried off by an untimely death.
Therefore the aforesaid handmaid and abbess of Christ, Hild — whom all who knew her were accustomed to call mother, on account of her remarkable piety and grace — was not only an example of life to those present in her own monastery, but she also ministered an occasion of salvation and amendment to very many dwelling far off, to whom the happy report of her diligence and virtue came. For it was fitting that the dream should be fulfilled which her mother Bregusuid had seen in her infancy. For while her husband Hereric was living in exile under Cerdic, king of the Britons, where he also perished by poison, she saw as it were in a dream that he had suddenly been taken away, and that she sought him with all diligence, yet no trace of him appeared anywhere.
But when she had sought him most carefully, she suddenly found beneath her garment a most precious necklace; and as she gazed at it more attentively, it seemed to shine with so great a brightness of light that it filled all the bounds of Britain with the grace of its splendour. This dream was truly fulfilled in her daughter, of whom we speak, whose life furnished examples of the works of light not to herself alone, but to many who wished to live well. And when she had presided over this monastery for many years, it pleased the merciful provider of our salvation that her holy soul should also be tried by a long infirmity of the flesh, so that, after the apostle's example, her strength might be made perfect in weakness.
For being smitten with fevers, she began to be wearied with a sharp burning, and for six continuous years she did not cease to labour under that same affliction; yet in all that time she never failed either to give thanks to her Maker, or to teach the flock committed to her both publicly and privately. For, forewarned by her own example, she admonished all both to serve the Lord obediently in soundness of body when health was received, and ever to give thanks faithfully to the Lord in adversities of circumstance or infirmities of the limbs.
In the seventh year, then, of her infirmity, the pain having turned inward to her inward parts, she came to her last day; and about cockcrow, having received the viaticum of the most holy communion, when she had summoned the handmaids of Christ who were in that same monastery, and was admonishing them to keep the peace of the Gospel among themselves, nay, with all — amid the words of exhortation she joyfully saw death, or rather, to speak in the Lord's words, she passed from death to life. On which same night the almighty Lord deigned to reveal her departure by a manifest vision in another monastery set further off, which she herself had built that same year, and which is called Hackness.
There was in that very monastery a certain holy woman, by name Begu, who for thirty years and more had served the Lord in the monastic life, dedicated to him in virginity. She, resting at that time in the sisters' dormitory, suddenly heard in the air the well-known sound of the bell by which they were wont to be roused or summoned to prayers whenever one of them had been called out of the world; and opening, as it seemed to her, her eyes, she saw the roof of the house uncovered, and a light poured down from above filling all things. While she anxiously gazed upon that light, she saw the soul of the aforesaid servant of God being borne up to heaven in that very light, with angels accompanying and leading her.
And when, shaken from sleep, she saw the other sisters resting around her, she understood that what she had seen had been shown to her either in sleep or in a vision of the mind. Straightway rising, smitten with exceeding fear, she ran to the virgin who then presided over the monastery in the abbess's stead, whose name was Frigyth, and, much bathed in weeping and tears and drawing long sighs, she announced that Hild, the mother of them all, the abbess, had now passed from the world, and that, as she watched, with an immense light and angels leading, she had ascended to the thresholds of eternal light and to the fellowship of the citizens above. And when Frigyth had heard this, she roused all the sisters and, calling them into the church, exhorted them to give themselves to prayers and psalms for the soul of their mother.
And while they were diligently doing this for the rest of the night, at the first dawn there came brethren from the place where she had died, to announce her departure. But they, answering, said that they had already learned the same; and when they set forth in order how and when they had come to know this, it was found that her passing had been shown to them by a vision at the very hour at which the others reported that she had gone out of the world. And by a fair concord of events it was divinely arranged that, while those there saw her departure from this life, these here should learn of her entrance into the perpetual life of souls. Now these monasteries are about thirteen miles distant from each other.
They relate, moreover, that that same night, in the very monastery where the aforesaid servant of God died, her departure appeared in a vision to one of the virgins devoted to God who loved her with immense love; and she beheld her soul going up to heaven with the angels, and at the very hour in which it happened she plainly narrated this to those handmaids of Christ who were with her, and roused them to pray for her soul, even before the rest of the congregation knew of her death. And that this had so come to pass was soon made known to the congregation when morning came.
For this very woman was at that hour, together with certain other handmaids of Christ, placed apart in the remotest parts of the monastery, where women newly coming to the monastic life were wont to be tested, until, having been regularly instructed, they were received into the fellowship of the congregation. [22] In the monastery of this abbess there was a certain brother specially marked out by divine grace, because he was wont to make songs fitting for religion and piety; so that whatever he learned from the divine writings through interpreters, this, after a little while, he would bring forth in his own tongue — that is, the language of the English — in poetic words composed with the greatest sweetness and compunction. By his songs the minds of many were often kindled to the contempt of the world and the longing for the heavenly life.
And indeed others also after him among the people of the English attempted to make religious poems; but none could equal him. For he learned the art of singing not from men, nor through a man, but, divinely aided, he received the gift of singing freely. Wherefore he could never make anything frivolous or vain in poetry, but only those things which pertain to religion befitted his religious tongue. For, set in the secular habit until the times of more advanced age, he had never at any time learned anything of songs.
Hence sometimes at a banquet, when for the sake of merriment it was decreed that all in turn should sing, he, when he saw the harp drawing near to him, would rise up from the midst of the supper and, going out, return to his house. When on a certain occasion he did this, and, having left the house of the banquet, had gone out to the stables of the beasts whose keeping had been entrusted to him that night, and there at the fitting hour had given his limbs to sleep, there stood by him in a dream a certain one, who, greeting him and calling him by his name, said: 'Cædmon, sing me something.' But he, answering, said: 'I do not know how to sing; for it was for this very reason that I left the banquet and withdrew hither, because I could not sing.' Again the one who was speaking with him said: 'Nevertheless, you have something to sing to me.'
'What,' said he, 'ought I to sing?' And the other said: 'Sing the beginning of created things.' Having received this answer, he straightway began to sing, in praise of God the Creator, verses which he had never heard, of which this is the sense: 'Now we ought to praise the Author of the heavenly kingdom, the power of the Creator and his counsel, the deeds of the Father of glory; how he, since he is the eternal God, was the author of all marvels, who first created heaven as a roof-ridge for the sons of men, and then the earth, the almighty Guardian of the human race.' This is the sense, but not the very order of the words, which he sang while sleeping;
for songs, however excellently composed, cannot be translated word for word from one language into another without loss of their beauty and dignity. But rising from sleep, he retained in memory all that he had sung while sleeping, and soon added to it many more words in the same manner of a song worthy of God. And coming in the morning to the steward who was set over him, he made known what gift he had received, and being brought to the abbess, he was bidden, in the presence of many more learned men, to relate his dream and to recite the song, that by the judgement of all it might be tested what it was, or whence came that which he reported. And it seemed to all that heavenly grace had been granted to him by the Lord.
And they expounded to him some passage of sacred history or doctrine, charging him, if he could, to render this into the measure of a song. And he, having taken up the task, went away, and returning in the morning, gave back what was bidden, composed in excellent verse. Wherefore the abbess, embracing the grace of God in the man, taught him to leave the secular habit and to take up the monastic purpose, and receiving him into the monastery with all his goods, she associated him with the company of the brethren, and ordered that he be taught the course of sacred history. And he, by remembering with himself all that he could learn by hearing, and, as it were like a clean animal, chewing the cud, turned it into most sweet song; and by re-echoing it more sweetly, he made his very teachers his hearers in turn.
He sang of the creation of the world and the origin of the human race, and the whole history of Genesis; of the going out of Israel from Egypt and their entrance into the land of promise; of very many other histories of sacred Scripture; of the Lord's incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension into heaven; of the coming of the Holy Spirit and the teaching of the apostles. Likewise of the terror of the judgement to come, and the horror of the punishment of hell, and the sweetness of the heavenly kingdom, he made many songs; and also very many others concerning the divine benefits and judgements, in all of which he sought to draw men away from the love of sins, and to rouse them to the love and practice of good action.
For he was a very religious man, and humbly subject to the regular disciplines; but against those who wished to do otherwise he was kindled with the zeal of a great fervour; whence also he closed his life with a beautiful end. For as the hour of his departure drew near, he was pressed for fourteen days beforehand by a bodily infirmity, yet so moderately that throughout all that time he could both speak and walk. Now there was nearby a building into which those who were more sick and seemed near to dying were wont to be brought. He therefore asked his attendant, as evening came on, on the night on which he was to go out of the world, to prepare for him a place to rest in it; and the attendant, wondering why he asked this, who by no means seemed yet about to die, did nevertheless what he had said.
And when they were placed there, and were conversing and jesting in turn with cheerful spirit, together with those who had been there before, and the time of midnight was now past, he asked whether they had the Eucharist within. They answered: 'What need is there of the Eucharist? for you are not yet to die, who talk so merrily with us as one in good health.' Again he said: 'And yet, bring me the Eucharist.' Having received it in his hand, he asked whether they all had a peaceable mind toward him, and were without any complaint of quarrel or rancour. They all answered that they had a most peaceable mind toward him and one removed from all anger, and in turn they asked him to have a peaceable mind toward them. He at once answered:
'A peaceable mind, my little children, I bear toward all the servants of God.' And so, fortifying himself with the heavenly viaticum, he made ready for the entrance into the other life; and he asked how near was the hour at which the brethren ought to be roused to say the nocturnal praises to the Lord. They answered: 'It is not far off.' But he said: 'Good, then let us await that hour.' And signing himself with the sign of the holy cross, he leaned his head upon the pillow, and slumbering a little, so in silence he ended his life.