Bound there before the throng the youth began
  To sing with mournful voice a song of woe;
  The wretched thrall begged succor of his friends;
  But no relief nor mercy could he find
  From that fierce folk to give him back his life. 1130
  Those monstrous fiends had sought hostility;
  It was their purpose that the sword’s sharp edge
  Made hard by blows, and stained with marks of fire,
  In foeman’s hand should take his life away. 
  But Andrew thought it grievous, hard to bear,
  A public wrong, that one so innocent
  Should forthwith lose his life.  That people’s hate
  Was very fierce; the warriors, valiant thanes 1140
  Lusting for murder, rushed upon the youth;
  They wished straightway to break his head with spears. 
  But God, the Holy One, from heaven above
  Defended him against the heathen throng;
  He bade their weapons melt away like wax
  In the fierce onset, that his bitter foes
  Should scathe him not with might of hostile swords. 
  So from his woe and from that people’s hate
  The youth was loosed.  To God, the Lord of lords, 1150
  Be thanks for all, because He giveth might
  To every man who wisely seeketh aid
  From Him on high!  There is eternal peace
  Ever prepared for those who can attain.

    Then in that town was lamentation heard,
  Loud outcry of the throng; heralds proclaimed
  And mourned the lack of food; there stood they sad,
  Held fast by hunger; the high-towering halls—­
  Their wine-halls—­all were empty; they possessed
  No wealth to enjoy at that unhappy hour. 1160
  The wise men sat apart in council sad,
  Talked of their woe; no joy was in their land. 
  Thus would one hero oft another ask:—­
  “Let him who has good counsel in his heart,
  And wisdom, hide it not!  The hour is come
  Exceeding woful; great is now the need
  That we should hear the words of prudent men.”

    Then to that band the Devil straight appeared
  All black and ugly, and he had the form
  Of one accursed.  The Prince of death began, 1170
  The limping imp of hell, with wicked heart
  To accuse the holy man; this word he spake:—­
  “A certain prince is come into your town,
  A stranger journeying from a distant land;
  Andrew I heard him called.  He worked you scath
  But lately, when he led a company
  Great beyond measure from your prison strong;
  And now these deeds of harm ye may with ease
  Wreak on their author; let your weapons’ point, 1180
  Your hard-edged iron, hew his body down,
  Doomed to destruction.  Go now boldly forth,
  That ye may overcome your foe in war.”