The Dream of the Rood

Lo, I shall tell you the truest of visions,

A dream that I dreamt in the dead of night

While people reposed in peaceful sleep.

I seemed to see the sacred tree

Lifted on high in a halo of light,

The brightest of beams; that beacon was wholly

Gorgeous with gold; glorious gems stood

Fair at the foot; and five were assembled,

At the crossing of the arms. The angels of God looked on,

Fair through the firmament. It was truly no foul sinner’s cross,

For beholding his sufferings were the holy spirits,

The men of the earth and all of creation.

Wondrous was that victory-wood, and I wounded and stained

With sorrows and sins. I saw the tree of glory

Blessed and bright in brilliant adornments,

Made joyous with jewels. Gems on all sides

Full rarely enriched the rood of the Savior.

Through the sight of that cross I came to perceive

Its stiff struggle of old, when it started first

To bleed on the right side. I was broken and cast down with sorrow;

The fair sight inspired me with fear. Before me the moving beacon

Changed its clothing and color. At times it was covered with blood

Fearful and grimy with gore. At times with gold ’twas adorned.

Then I lay and looked for a long time

And saw the Savior’s sorrowful tree

Until I heard it lift high its voice.

The worthiest of the wood-race formed words and spoke:

“It was ages ago—I shall always remember—

When first I was felled at the forest’s edge,

My strong trunk stricken. Then strange enemies took me

And fashioned my frame to a cross; and their felons I raised on high.

On their backs and shoulders they bore me to the brow of the lofty hill.

There the hated ones solidly set me. I saw there the Lord of Mankind

Struggling forward with courage to climb my sturdy trunk.

I dared not then oppose the purpose of the Lord,

So I bent not nor broke when there burst forth a trembling

From the ends of the earth. Easily might I

Destroy the murderers, but I stood unmoved.

The Young Hero unclothed him—it was the holy God—

Strong and steadfast; he stepped to the high gallows,

Not fearing the look of the fiends, and there he freed mankind.

At his blessed embrace I trembled, but bow to the earth I dared not,

Or forward to fall to the ground, but fast and true I endured.

As a rood I was raised up; a royal King I bore,

The Lord of heavenly legions. I allowed myself never to bend.

Dark nails through me they drove; so that dastardly scars are upon me,

Wounds wide open; but not one of them dared I to harm.

They cursed and reviled us together. I was covered all over with blood,

That flowed from the Savior’s side when his soul had left the flesh.

Sorrowful the sights I have seen on that hill,

Grim-visaged grief: the God of mankind I saw

And his frightful death. The forces of darkness

Covered with clouds the corpse of the Lord,

The shining radiance; the shadows darkened

Under the cover of clouds. Creation all wept,

The king’s fall bewailed. Christ was on the rood.

Finally from afar came faithful comrades

To the Savior’s side, and I saw it all.

Bitter the grief that I bore, but I bowed me low to their hands;

My travail was grievous and sore. They took then God Almighty,

From loathsome torment they lifted him. The warriors left me deserted,

To stand stained with blood. I was stricken and wounded with nails.

Limb-weary they laid him there, and at their Lord’s head they stood.

They beheld there the Ruler of heaven; and they halted a while to rest,

Tired after the terrible struggle. A tomb then they began to make,

His friends in sight of his foes. Of the fairest of stone they built it,

And set their Savior upon it. A sorrowful dirge they chanted,

Lamented their Master at evening, when they made their journey home,

Tired from their loved Lord’s side. And they left him with the guard.

We crosses stood there streaming with blood,

And waited long after the wailing ceased

Of the brave company. The body grew cold,

The most precious of corpses. Then they pulled us down,

All to the earth—an awful fate!

They buried us low in a pit. But the loved disciples of Christ,

His faithful friends made search and found me and brought me to light,

And gorgeously decked me with gold and with silver.

Now mayst thou learn, my beloved friend,

That the work of the wicked I have worthily borne,

The most trying of torments. The time is now come

When through the wide world I am worshipped and honored,

That all manner of men, and the mighty creation,

Hold sacred this sign. On me the Son of God

Death-pangs endured. Hence, dauntless in glory,

I rise high under heaven, and hold out salvation

To each and to all who have awe in my presence.

Long ago I was the greatest and most grievous of torments,

Most painful of punishments, till I pointed aright

The road of life for the race of men.

Lo, a glory was given by the God of Creation

To the worthless wood—by the Warden of heaven—

Just as Mary, his mother, the maiden blessed,

Received grace and glory from God Almighty,

And homage and worship over other women.

And now I bid thee, my best of comrades,

That thou reveal this vision to men.

Tell them I am truly the tree of glory,

That the Savior sorrowed and suffered upon me

For the race of men and its many sins,

And the ancient evil that Adam wrought.

He there tasted of death; but in triumph he rose,

The Lord in his might and gave life unto men.

Then he ascended to heaven, and hither again

Shall the Savior descend to seek mankind

On the day of doom, the dreaded Ruler

Of highest heaven, with his host of angels.

Then will he adjudge with justice and firmness

Rewards to the worthy whose works have deserved them,

Who loyally lived their lives on the earth.

Then a feeling of fear shall fill every heart

For the warning they had in the words of their Master:

He shall demand of many where the man may be found

To consent for the sake of his Savior to taste

The bitter death as He did on the cross.

They are filled with fear and few of them think

What words they shall speak in response to Christ.

Then no feeling of fright or fear need he have

Who bears on his heart the brightest of tokens,

But there shall come to the kingdom through the cross and its power

All the souls of the saved from the sorrows of earth,

Of the holy who hope for a home with their Lord.”

Then I adored the cross with undaunted courage,

With the warmest zeal, while I watched alone

And saw it in secret. My soul was eager

To depart on its path, but I have passed through many

An hour of longing. Through all my life

I shall seek the sight of that sacred tree

Alone more often than all other men

And worthily worship it. My will for this service

Is steadfast and sturdy, and my strength is ever

In the cross of Christ. My comrades of old,

The friends of fortune, all far from the earth

Have departed from the world and its pleasures and have passed to the King of Glory,

And high in the heavens with the holy God

Are living eternally. And I long for the time

To arrive at last when the rood of the Lord,

Which once so plainly appeared to my sight,

Shall summon my soul from this sorrowful life,

And bring me to that bourne where bliss is unending

And happiness of heaven, where the holy saints

All join in a banquet, where joy is eternal.

May He set me where always in after time

I shall dwell in glory with God’s chosen ones

In delights everlasting. May the Lord be my friend,

Who came to earth and of old on the cross

Suffered and sorrowed for the sins of men.

He broke there our bonds and bought for us life

And a heavenly home. The hearts were now filled

With blessings and bliss, which once burned with remorse.

To the Son was his journey successful and joyful

And crowned with triumph, when he came with his troops,

With his gladsome guests into God’s kingdom,

The Almighty Judge’s, and brought joy to the angels,

And the host of the holy who in heaven before

Dwelt in glory when their God arrived,

The Lord Most High, at his home at last.

_____

“The Dream of the Rood” is estimated to be written in the early 8th Century, author unknown.

This translation by Cosette Faust & Stith Thompson was originally published in 1918 by Robert O. Law Company, Chicago.