THE DREAM OF THE ROOD

(THE VISION OF THE CROSS)

 

S. Jagadisan

 

The Dream of the Rood meaning The Vision of the Cross is an Old English poem of the eighth century. Though its authorship is uncertain, it is generally attributed to the Anglo-Saxon religious poet Cynewulf.

 

The poem begins with a narrative introduction in which the poet expresses his reaction to the sight of the Cross.  It is followed by the Cross addressing the poet and through him, the readers.  The Cross is endowed with a personality and a voice.  It visualises Christ whom it had the honour to carry.  It describes graphically, how, while carrying Christ on its back, it passed through a variety of moods, pride, humility, courage, indignation, agony and ecstasy.  It is filled with a sense of glory and triumphant exaltation at the thought, that, from being an instrument of torture, it has emerged into a beacon of hope.  It gives the assurance that it is an anchor and a refuge to all those who turn to it with faith and devotion.

 

Lo! I will speak of the best of dreams

I dreamt at midnight when men had gone to rest.

It seemed to me that I saw a rare Tree

Raised aloft, bathed in light

Tree most bright, that beacon was all

Covered with gold.  Bright gems glittered

At the foot of the Cross, there were five such

On the cross beam; the angels of the Lord

Saw it shining through the future.

Certainly it was not the felon’s gallows.

All the holy spirits, men all over the world

And the entire creation saw it there.

Wondrous was the Tree of Triumph,

And I guilty of sin, scarred with crime,

I saw the glorious Cross, glisten beautifully

Adorned with garments, decked with gold.

Jewels had worthily covered the King’s Cross

However, through that gold I could see

The former evil of the hateful ones, there where

It began to bleed on the right side.

I was struck with sorrow.

I feared that splendid sight.

I saw that beacon change, dress and hue,

Now drenched and defiled with the flow of blood

Now adorned with gold.

 

Yet I lay there a long while

Gazing sadly on the Saviour’s Cross

Till I heard it speak; the most wonderful Cross

Then began to speak

“It was long ago.  I still remember

I was hewed down at the edge of the forest

Moved out of my truck.  Strong enemies took me

Made a spectacle of me.

And commanded me to carry their criminals.

Men carried me on their shoulders

Till they set me on a hill.  Many enemies

Fastened me there.  I saw the Lord of mankind

Hasten with great courage to ascend me.

I dared not, against the Lord’s command

Bow or break.  I saw the earth’s surface tremble.

I could have struck down all the enemies

However, I stood firm.

 

The young Hero, that was God Almighty

Strong and resolute, took off his clothes

Mounted the high Cross, in the presence of many

Since he wished to redeem mankind.

I trembled when the Warrior embraced me.

However, I dared not bend or fall to the ground.

I had to stand firm.  I, the Cross, was raised.

At once I carried aloft the King, the Lord of Heaven.

I dared not stoop; they pierced me with black nails.

On me were visible the wounds, gaping, malicious gash.

 

I dared not injure any of them; they jeered at us both.

I was stained all over with blood, shed from

the Hero’s sides

When he had sent forth his spirit

On that hill have I endured many a severe torment

I saw the Lord of Hosts cruelly stretched out

Darkness covered with clouds the Lord’s body

The effulgent splendour; shadow came forth

Dark under the clouds; all creation wept,

Lamented the King’s death.  Christ was on the Cross.

Devout ones came from afar to the Prince

I saw all that.  I was grievously smitten with sorrow.

Yet I bowed down to men’s hands

With humility and courage.

 

They carried the Almighty God

From the severe torment; the warriors left me

To stand covered with blood.

I was wounded with nails all over.

They laid him, the one weary of limb,

Stood by his head and looked on the Lord of Heaven

He rested there a while, tired after the great strife.

Men began to make a sepulchre

In the presence of the slayer,

They carved it out of a bright stone.  They placed

The Triumphant Lord there.  Sad, they began

To sing a dirge in the eventide.

They wished to go away from the Glorious Prince

He lay there alone

We* stood in that place, bewailing a long time,

After the voice of the warriors had died down.

The body, fair abode of life, grew cold.

 

Then some cut and felled us to the earth.

That was a terrible fate; Some buried us in a deep pit

However the servants of the Lord heard about me

Decked me in gold and silver.

Now you may hear, beloved man

How I have endured bitter agony

The work of malicious ones.

The time has now come for people, all over the world,

Far and wide and this splendid creation to honour me

Pray to Him in this sign.  The Son of God

Suffered on me a while.  Therefore glorious

I rise under heaven and I can heal everyone

Who holds me in awe. Once I was the most

Severe torture, most hateful to people before

I revealed the right way of life to mankind.”

 

* (The three Crosses)

 

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