The Phoenix

I have heard that there lies a land far hence
A noble realm well-known unto men,
In the eastern kingdoms. That corner of the world
Is not easy of access to every tribe
On the face of the earth, but afar it was placed
By the might of the Maker from men of sin.
The plain is beautiful, a place of blessings,
And filled with the fairest fragrance of earth;
Matchless is that island, its maker unequalled,
Steadfast and strong of heart, who established that land.
There are often open to the eyes of the blessed,
The happiness of the holy through heaven's door.
That is a winsome plain; the woods are green,
Far stretching under the stars. There no storm of rain or snow,
Nor breath of frost nor blast of fire,
Nor fall of hail nor hoary frost,
Nor burning sun nor bitter cold,
Nor warm weather nor winter showers
Shall work any woe, but that winsome plain
Is wholesome and unharmed; in that happy land
Blossoms are blown. No bold hills nor mountains
There stand up steep; no stony cliffs
Lift high their heads as here with us,
Nor dales nor glens nor darksome gorges,
Nor caves nor crags; nor occur there ever
Anything rough; but under radiant skies
Flourish the fields in flowers and blossoms.
This lovely land lieth higher
By twelve full fathoms, as famous writers,
As sages say and set forth in books,
Than any of the hills that here with us
Rise bright and high under heaven's stars.
Peaceful is that plain, pleasant its sunny grove,
Winsome its woodland glades; never wanes its increase
Nor fails of its fruitage, but fair stand the trees,
Ever green as God had given command;
In winter and summer the woodlands cease not
To be filled with fruit, and there fades not a leaf;
Not a blossom is blighted nor burned by the fire
Through all the ages till the end of time,
Till the world shall fail. When the fury of waters
Over all the earth in olden times
Covered the world, then the wondrous plain,
Unharmed and unhurt by the heaving flood,
Strongly withstood and stemmed the waves,
Blest and uninjured through the aid of God:
Thus blooming it abides till the burning fire
Of the day of doom when the death-chambers open
And the ghastly graves shall give up their dead.
No fearsome foe is found in that land,
No sign of distress, no strife, no weeping,
Neither age, nor misery, nor the menace of death,
Nor failing of life, nor foemen's approach,
No sin nor trial nor tribulation,
Nor the want of wealth, nor work for the pauper,
No sorrow nor sleep, nor sick-bed's pain,
Nor wintry winds, nor weather's raging,
Fierce under the heavens; nor the hard frost
Causeth discomfort with cold icicles.
Neither hail nor frost fall from the heavens,
Nor wintry cloud nor water descendeth
Stirred by the storms; but streams there flow,
Wondrously welling and watering the earth,
Pouring forth in pleasant fountains;
The winsome water from the wood's middle
Each month of the year from the mould of earth,
Cold as the sea, coursing through the woods,
Breaketh abundantly. It is the bidding of the Lord
That twelve times yearly that teeming land
The floods shall o'erflow and fill with joy.
The groves are green with gorgeous bloom,
And fairest of fruits; there fail not at all
The holy treasures of the trees under heaven,
Nor falleth from the forests the fallow blossoms,
The beauty of the trees; but, bounteously laden,
The boughs are hanging heavy with fruit
That is always new in every season.
In the grassy plain all green appear,
Gorgeously garnished by God in his might,
The forests fair. Nor fails the wood
In its pleasing prospect; a perfume holy
Enchanteth the land. No change shall it know
Forever till he ends his ancient plan,
His work of wisdom as he willed it at first.
In that wood there dwelleth a wondrous bird,
Fearless in flight, the Phoenix its name.
Lonely it liveth its life in this place,
Doughty of soul; death never seeks him
In that well-loved wood while the world shall endure.
He is said to watch the sun on his way
And to go to meet God's bright candle,
That gleaming gem, and gladly to note
When rises in radiance the most royal of stars
Up from the east over the ocean's waves,
The famous work of the Father, fair with adornments,
The bright sign of God. Buried are the stars,
Wandering 'neath the waters to the western realms;
They grow dim at dawn, and the dark night
Creepeth wanly away. Then on wings of strength,
Proud on his pinions, he placeth his gaze
Eagerly on the streams, and stares over the water
Where the gleam of heaven gliding shall come
O'er the broad ocean from the bright east.
So the wondrous bird at the water's spring
Bideth in beauty, in the brimming streams.
Twelve times there the triumphant bird
Bathes in the brook ere the beacon appears,
The candle of heaven, and the cold stream
Of the joy-inspiring springs he tasteth
From the icy burn at every bath.
Then after his sport in the springs at dawn,
Filled full of pride he flies to a tree
Where most easily he may in the eastern realm
Behold the journey, when the jewel of heaven
Over the shimmering sea, the shining light,
Gleameth in glory. Garnished is the land,
The world made beautiful, when the blessed gem
Illumines the land, the largest of stars
In the circle of the seas sends forth its rays.
Soon as the sun over the salt streams;
Rises in glory, then the gray-feathered bird
Blithely rises from the beam where he rested;
Fleet-winged he fareth and flieth on high;
Singing and caroling he soareth to heaven.
Fair is the famous fowl in his bearing
With joy in his breast, in bliss exulting;
He warbles his song more wondrously sweet
And choicer of note than ever child of man
Heard beneath the heavens since the High King,
The worker of wonders, the world established,
Heaven and earth. His hymn is more beautiful
And fairer by far than all forms of song-craft;
Its singing surpasseth the sweetest of music.
To the song can compare not the sound of trumpet,
Nor of horn; nor of harp, nor of heroes' voices
On all the earth, nor of organ's sound,
Nor singing song nor swan's fair feathers,
Nor of any good thing that God created
As a joy to men in this mournful world!
Thus he singeth and carolleth crowned with joy,
Until the bright sun in a southern sky
Sinks to its setting; then silent he is
And listeneth and boweth and bendeth his head,
Sage in his thoughts, and thrice he shaketh
His feathers for flight; the fowl is hushed.
Twelve equal times he telleth the hours
Of day and night. 'Tis ordained in this way,
And willed that the dweller of the woods should have joy,
Pleasure in that plain and its peaceful bliss,
Taste delights and life and the land's enjoyments,
Till he waiteth a thousand winters of life,
The aged warden of the ancient wood.
Then the gray-feathered fowl in the fullness of years
Is grievously stricken. From the green earth he fleeth,
The favorite of birds, from the flowering land,
And beareth his flight to a far-off realm,
To a distant domain where dwelleth no man,
As his native land. Then the noble fowl
Becometh ruler over the race of birds,
Distinguished in their tribe, and for a time he dwelleth
With them in the waste. Then on wings of strength,
He flieth to the west, full of winters,
Swift on his wing; in swarms then press,
The birds about their lord; all long to serve him
And to live in loyalty to their leader brave,
Until he seeketh out the Syrian land
With mighty train. Then turneth the pure one
Sharply away, and in the shade of the forest
He dwells, in the grove, in the desert place,
Concealed and hid from the host of men.
There high on a bough he abides alone,
Under heaven's roof, hard by the roots
Of a far stretching tree, which the Phoenix is called
By the nations of earth from the name of that bird.
The King of glory has granted that tree,
The Holy One of heaven, as I have heard said,
That it among all the other trees
That grow in the glorious groves of the world
Bloometh most brightly. No blight may hurt it,
Nor work it harm, but while the world stands
It shall be shielded from the shafts of evil.
When the wind is at rest and the weather is fair,
And the holy gem of heaven is shining,
And clouds have flown and the forces of water
Are standing stilled, and the storms are all
Assuaged and soothed: from the south there gleameth
The warm weather-candle, welcomed by men.
In the boughs the bird then buildeth its home,
Beginneth its nest; great is its need
To work in haste, with the highest wisdom,
That his old age he may give to gain new life,
A fair young spirit. Then far and near,
He gathers together to his goodly home
The winsomest herbs and the wood's sweet blossoms,
The fair perfumes and fragrant shoots
Which were placed in the world by the wondrous Lord,
By the Father of all, on the face of the earth,
As a pleasure forever to the proud race of men--
The beauty of blossoms. There he beareth away
To that royal tree the richest of treasure.
There the wild fowl in the waste land
On the highest beams buildeth his house,
On the loftiest limbs, and he liveth there
In that upper room; on all sides he surrounds
In that shade unbroken his body and wings
With blessed fragrance and fairest of blooms,
The most gorgeous of green things that grow on the earth.
He awaiteth his journey when the gem of heaven
In the summer season, the sun at its hottest,
Shineth over the shade and shapeth its destiny,
Gazeth over the world. Then it groweth warm,
His house becomes heated by the heavenly gleam;
The herbs wax hot; the house steameth
With the sweetest of savors; in the sweltering heat,
In the furious flame, the fowl with his nest
Is embraced by the bale-fire; then burning seizeth
The disheartened one's house; in hot haste riseth
The fallow flame, and the Phoenix it reacheth,
In fullness of age. Then the fire eateth,
Burneth the body, while borne is the soul,
The fated one's spirit, where flesh and bone
Shall burn in the blaze. But it is born anew,
Attaineth new life at the time allotted.
When the ashes again begin to assemble,
To fall in a heap when the fire is spent,
To cling in a mass, then clean becometh
That bright abode-- burnt by the fire
The home of the bird. When the body is cold
And its frame is shattered and the fire slumbers
In the funeral flame, then is found the likeness
Of an apple that newly in the ashes appeareth,
And waxeth into a worm wondrously fair,
As if out from an egg it had opened its way,
Shining from the shell. In the shade it groweth,
Till at first it is formed like a fledgling eagle,
A fair young fowl; then further still
It increaseth in stature, till in strength it is like
To a full-grown eagle, and after that
With feathers fair as at first it was,
Brightly blooming. Then the bird grows strong,
Regains its brightness and is born again,
Sundered from sin, somewhat as if
One should fetch in food, the fruits of the earth,
Should haul it home at harvest time,
The fairest of corn ere the frosts shall come
At the time of reaping, lest the rain in showers
Strike down and destroy it; a stay they have ready
A feast of food, when frost and snow
With their mighty coursing cover the earth
In winter weeds; the wealth of man
From those fair fruits shall flourish again
Through the nature of grain, which now in the ground
Is sown as clear seed; then the sun's warm rays
In time of spring sprouts the life germ,
Awakes the world's riches so that wondrous fruits,
The treasures of earth, by their own kind
Are brought forth again: that bird changeth likewise,
Old in his years, to youth again,
With fair new flesh; no food nor meat
He eateth on the earth save only a taste
Of fine honey-dew which falleth often
In the middle of night; the noble fowl
Thus feedeth and groweth till he flieth again
To his own domain, to his ancient dwelling.
When the bird springs reborn from its bower of herbs,
Proud of pinion, pleased with new life,
Young and full of grace, from the ground he then
Skillfully piles up the scattered parts
Of the graceful body, gathers the bones,
Which the funeral fire aforetime devoured;
Then brings altogether the bones and the ashes,
The remnant of the flames he arranges anew,
And carefully covers that carrion spoil
With fairest flowers. Then he fares away,
Seeking the sacred soil of his birthplace.
With his feet he fastens to the fire's grim leavings,
Clasps them in his claws and his country again,
The sun-bright seat, he seeks in joy,
His own native-land. All is renewed--
His body and feathers, in the form that was his,
When placed in the pleasant plain by his Maker,
By gracious God. Together he bringeth
The bones of his body which were burned on the pyre,
Which the funeral flames before had enveloped,
And also the ashes; then all in a heap
This bird then burieth the bones and embers,
His ashes on the island. Then his eyes for the first time
Catch sight of the sun, see in the heaven
That flaming gem, the joy of the firmament
Which beams from the east over the ocean billows.
Before is that fowl fair in its plumage,
Bright colors glow on its gorgeous breast,
Behind its head is a hue of green,
With brilliant crimson cunningly blended.
The feathers of its tail are fairly divided:
Some brown, some flaming, some beautifully flecked
With brilliant spots. At the back, his feathers
Are gleaming white; green is his neck
Both beneath and above, and the bill shines
As glass or a gem; the jaws glisten
Within and without. The eye ball pierces,
And strongly stares with a stone-like gaze,
Like a clear-wrought gem that is carefully set
Into a golden goblet by a goodly smith.
Surrounding its neck like the radiant sun,
Is the brightest of rings braided with feathers;
Its belly is wondrous with wealth of color,
Sheer and shining. A shield extends
Brilliantly fair above the back of the fowl.
The comely legs are covered with scales;
The feet are bright yellow. The fowl is in beauty
Peerless, alone, though like the peacock
Delightfully wrought, as the writings relate.
It is neither slow in movement, nor sluggish in mien,
Nor slothful nor inert as some birds are,
Who flap their wings in weary flight,
But he is fast and fleet, and floats through the air,
Marvelous, winsome, and wondrously marked.
Blessed is the God who gave him that bliss!
When at last it leaves the land, and journeys
To hunt the fields of its former home,
As the fowl flieth many folk view it.
It pleases in passing the people of earth,
Who are seen assembling from south and north;
They come from the east, they crowd from the west,
Faring from afar; the folk throng to see
The grace that is given by God in his mercy
To this fairest fowl, which at first received
From gracious God the greatest of natures
And a beauty unrivalled in the race of birds.
Then over the earth all men marvel
At the freshness and fairness and make it famous in writings;
With their hands they mould it on the hardest of marble,
Which through time and tide tells the multitudes
Of the rarity of the flying one. Then the race of fowls
On every hand enter in hosts,
Surge in the paths, praise it in song,
Magnify the stern-hearted one in mighty strains;
And so the holy one they hem in in circles
As it flies amain. The Phoenix is in the midst
Pressed by their hosts. The people behold
And watch with wonder how the willing bands
Worship the wanderer, one after the other,
Mightily proclaim and magnify their King,
Their beloved Lord. They lead joyfully
The noble one home; but now the wild one
Flies away fast; no followers may come
From the happy host, when their head takes wing
Far from this land to find his home.
So the dauntless fowl after his fiery death
Happily hastens to his home again,
To his beauteous abode. The birds return,
Leaving their leader, with lonely hearts,
Again to their land; then their gracious lord
Is young in his courts. The King Almighty,
God alone knows its nature by sex,
Male or female; no man can tell,
No living being save the Lord only
How wise and wondrous are the ways of the bird,
And the fair decree for the fowl's creation!
There the happy one his home may enjoy,
With its welling waters and woodland groves,
May live in peace through the passing of winters
A thousand in number; then he knows again
The ends of his life; over him is laid
The funeral fire: yet he finds life again,
And wondrously awakened he waxes in strength.
He droops not nor dreads his death therefore,
The awful agony, since always he knows
That the lap of the flame brings life afresh,
Peace after death, when undaunted once more
Fully feathered and formed as a bird
Out of the ashes up he can spring,
Safe under the heavens. To himself he is both
A father and a son, and finds himself also
Ever the heir to his olden life.
The Almighty Maker of man has granted
That though the fire shall fasten its fetters upon him,
He is given new life, and lives again
Fashioned with feathers as aforetime he was.
So each living man the life eternal
Seeks for himself after sorest cares;
That through the darksome door of death he may find
The goodly grace of God and enjoy
Forever and aye unending bliss
As reward for his work-- the wonders of heaven.
The nature of this fowl is not unlike
That of those chosen as children of God,
And it shows men a sign of how sacred joys
Granted by God they may gain in trial--
Hold beneath the heavens through his holy grace,
And abide in rapture in the realms above.
We have found that the faithful Father created
Man and woman through his wondrous might.
At first in the fairest fields of his earth
He set these sons on a soil unblemished,
In a pleasant place, Paradise named,
Since they lacked no delight as long as the pair
Wisely heeded the Holy word
In their new home. There hatred came,
The old foe's envy, who offered them food,
The fruit of the tree, which in folly they tried;
Both ate of the apple against the order of God,
Tasted the forbidden. Then bitter became
Their woe after eating and for their heirs as well--
For sons and daughters a sorrowful feast.
Grievously were punished their greedy teeth
For that greatest of guilt; God's wrath they knew
And bitter remorse; hence bearing their crimes,
Their sons must suffer for the sin of their parents
Against God's commands. Hence, grieved in soul
They shall lose the delights of the land of bliss
Through envy of the serpent who deceived our elders
In direful wise in days of yore
Through his wicked heart, so that they went far hence
To the dale of death to doleful life
In a sorrowful home. Hidden from them
Was the blessed life; and the blissful plain,
By the fiend's cunning, was fastened close
For many winters, till the Maker of wonders,
The King of mankind, Comforter of the weary,
Our only Hope, hither came down
To the godly band and again held it open.
His advent is likened by learned writers
In their works of wisdom and words of truth,
To the flight of that fowl, when forth he goes
From his own country and becometh old,
Weighed with winters, weary in mind,
And finds in wandering the forest wood
Where a bower he builds: with branches and herbs,
With rarest of twigs, he raises his dwelling,
His nest in the wood. Great need he hath
That he gain again his gladsome youth
In the flame of fire that he may find new life,
Renew his youth, and his native home,
His sunbright seat, he may seek again
After his bath of fire. So abandoned before us
The first of our parents their fairest plain,
Their happy home, their hope of glory,
To fare afar on a fearful journey,
Where hostile hands harshly beset them;
Evil ones often injured them sorely.
Yet many men marked well the Lord,
Heeded his behests in holy customs,
In glorious deeds, so that God, their Redeemer,
The high Heaven-King hearkened to them.
That is the high tree wherein holy men
Hide their home from the harm of their foe
And know no peril, neither with poison
Nor with treacherous token in time of evil.
There God's warrior works him a nest,
With doughty deeds dangers avoids,
He distributes alms to the stricken and needy,
He tells graceless men of the mercy of God,
Of the Father's help; he hastens forth,
Lessening the perils of this passing life,
Its darksome deeds, and does God's will
With bravery in his breast. His bidding he seeks
In prayer, with pure heart and pliant knee
Bent to the earth; all evil is banished,
All grim offences by his fear of God;
Happy in heart he hopes full well
To do good deeds: the Redeemer is his shield
In his varied walks, the Wielder of victory,
Joy-giver to people. Those plants are the ones,
The flowers of fruit, which the fowl of wildness
Finds in this world from far and wide
And brings to his abode, where it builds a nest
With firmness of heart against fear and hatred.
So in that place God's soldiers perform
With courage and might the Creator's commands.
Then they gain them glory: they are given rewards
By the gracious God for their goodness of heart.
From those is made a pleasant dwelling
As reward for their works, in the wondrous city;
Since they held in their hearts the holy teachings,
Serving their Lord with loving souls
By day and by night --and never ceasing--
With fervent faith preferring their Lord
Above worldly wealth. They ween not, indeed,
That long they will live in this life that is fleeting.
A blessed earl earns by his virtue
A home in heaven with the highest King,
And comfort forever,-- this he earns ere the close
Of his days in the world, when Death, the warrior,
Greedy for warfare, girded with weapons,
Seeketh each life and sendeth quickly
Into the bosom of the earth those deserted bodies
Lorn of their souls, where long they shall bide
Covered with clay till the coming of the fire.
Many of the sons of men into the assembly
Are led by the leaders; the Lord of angels,
The Father Almighty, the Master of hosts,
Will judge with justice the joyful and the sad.
Then mortal men in a mass shall arise
As the righteous King, the Ruler of angels,
The Savior of souls said it must be,
Gave command by the trumpet to the tribes of the world.
Then ends darkest death for those dear to the Lord;
Through the grace of God the good shall depart
In clamoring crowds when this cruel world
Shall burst into flames, into baleful fire;
The earth shall end. Then all shall have
Most frightful fear, when the fire crashes over
Earth's fleeting fortunes, when the flame eats up
Its olden treasures, eagerly graspeth
On goodly gold and greedily consumes
The land's adornments. Then dawns in light
In that awesome hour for all of men,
The fair and sacred symbol of the fowl,
When the mighty Ruler shall arouse all men,
Shall gather together from the grave the bones,
The limbs of the body, those left from the flame,
Before the knee of Christ: the King in splendor
From his lofty seat shall give light to the holy,
The gem of glory. It will be joyous and gladsome
To the servers of Truth in that sad time.
There the bodies, bathed of their sins,
Shall go in gladness; again shall their spirits
To their bony frames, and the fire shall burn,
Mounting high to heaven. Hot shall be to many
That awful flame, when every man,
Unblemished or sinful, his soul in his body,
From the depths of his grave seeks the doom of God,
Frightfully afraid. The fire shall save men,
Burning all sin. So shall the blessed
After weary wandering, with their works be clothed,
With the fruit of their deeds: fair are these roots,
These winsome flowers that the wild fowl
Collects to lay on his lovely nest
In order that easily his own fair home
May burn in the sun, and himself along with it,
And so after the fire he finds him new life;
So every man in all the world
Shall be covered with flesh, fair and comely,
And always young, if his own choice leads him
To work God's will; then the world's high King
Mighty at the meeting mercy will grant him.
Then the hymns shall rise high from the holy band,
The chosen souls shall chant their songs,
In praise of the powerful Prince of men,
Strain upon strain, and strengthened and fragrant
Of their godly works they shall wend to glory.
Then are men's spirits made spotless and bright
Through the flame of the fire-- refined and made pure.
In all the earth let not anyone ween
That I wrought this lay with lying speech,
With hated word-craft! Hear ye the wisdom
Of the hymns of Job! With heart of joy
And spirit brave, he boldly spoke;
With wondrous sanctity that word he said:
"I feel it a fact in the fastness of my soul
That one day in my nest death I shall know,
And weary of heart woefully go hence,
Compassed with clay, on my closing journey,
Mournful of mind, in the moldy earth.
And through the gift of God I shall gain once more
Like the Phoenix fowl, a fair new life,
On the day of arising from ruinous death,
Delights with God, where the loving throng
Are exalting their Lord. I look not at all
Ever to come to the end of that life
Of light and bliss, though my body shall lie
In its gruesome grave and grow decayed,
A joy to worms; for the Judge of the world
Shall save my soul, and send it to glory
After the time of death. I shall trust forever
With steadfast breast, in the Strength of angels;
Firm is my faith in the Father of all."
Thus sang the sage his song of old,
Herald to God, with gladsome heart:
How he was lifted to life eternal.
Then we may truly interpret the token clearly
Which the glorious bird gave through its burning.
It gathers together the grim bone-remnants,
The ashes and embers all into one place
After the surge of the fire; the fowl then seizes it
With its feet and flies to the Father's garden
Towards the sun; for a time there he sojourns,
For many winters, made in new wise,
All of him young; nor may any there yearn
To do him menace with deeds of malice.
So may after death by the Redeemer's might
Souls go with bodies, bound together,
Fashioned in loveliness, most like to that fowl,
In rich array, with rare perfumes,
Where the steadfast sun streams its light
O'er the sacred hosts in the happy city.
Then high over the roofs the holy Ruler
Shines on the souls of the saved and the loyal.
Radiant fowls follow around him
Brightest of birds, in bliss exulting,
The chosen and joyous ones join him at home,
Forever and ever, where no evil is wrought
By the foulest fiend in his fickle deceit;
But they shall live in lasting light and beauty,
As the Phoenix fowl, in the faith of God.
Every one of men's works in that wondrous home,
In that blissful abode, brightly shines forth
In the peaceful presence of the Prince eternal,
Who resembles the sun. A sacred crown
Most richly wrought with radiant gems,
High over the head of each holy soul
Glitters refulgent; their foreheads gleam,
Covered with glory; the crown of God
Embellishes beautifully the blessed host
With light in that life, where lasting joy
Is fresh and young and fades not away,
But they dwell in bliss, adorned in beauty,
With fairest ornaments, with the Father's angels.
They see no sorrow in those sacred courts,
No sin nor suffering nor sad work-days,
No burning hunger, nor bitter thirst,
No evil nor age: but ever their King
Granteth his grace to the glorious band
That loves its Lord and everlasting King,
That glorifies and praises the power of God.
That host round the holy high-set throne
Makes then melody in mighty strains;
The blessed saints blithely sing
In unison with angels, orisons to the Lord:
"Peace to thee, O God, thou proud Monarch,
Thou Ruler reigning with righteousness and skill;
Thanks for thy goodly gifts to us all;
Mighty and measureless is thy majesty and strength,
High and holy! The heavens, O Lord,
Are fairly filled, O Father Almighty,
Glory of glories, in greatness ruling
Among angels above and on earth beneath!
Guard us, O God of creation; thou governest all things!
Lord of the highest heavens above!"
So shall the saints sing his praises,
Those free from sin, in that fairest of cities,
Proclaim his power, the righteous people,
The host in heaven hail the Redeemer:
Honor without end is only for him,
Not ever at all had he any birth,
Any beginning of bliss, though he was born in the world,
On this earth in the image of an innocent child;
With unfailing justice and fairest judgments,
High above the heavens in holiness he dwelt!
Though he must endure the death of the cross,
Bear the bitter burden of men,
When three days have passed after the death of his body,
He regains new life through the love of God,
Through the aid of the Father. So the Phoenix betokens
In his youthful state, the strength of Christ,
Who in a wondrous wise awakes from the ashes
Unto the life of life, with limbs begirded;
So the Savior sought to aid us
Through the loss of his body, life without end.
Likewise that fowl filleth his wings,
Loads them with sweet and scented roots,
With winsome flowers and flies away;
These are the words, wise men tell us,
The songs of the holy ones whose souls go to heaven,
With the loving Lord to live for aye,
In bliss of bliss, where they bring to God
Their words and their works, wondrous in savor,
As a precious gift, in that glorious place,
Through the world of worlds and wondrous honor,
And royal power in the princely realm,
The kingdom of heaven. He is King indeed
Of the lands below and of lordly majesty,
Encircled with honor in that city of beauty.
He has given us leave lucis auctor,
That here we may merueri
As reward for good gaudia in celo,
That all of us may maxima regna
Seek and sit on sedibus altis,
Shall live a life lucis et pacis,
Shall own a home almae letitiae,
Know blessings and bliss; blandem and mitem
Lord they shall see sine fine,
And lift up a song lauda perenne
Forever with the angels. Alleluia!