Thus all day long till radiant evening came
  Was Andrew scourged; and yet a second day
  Pain pierced his breast, until the gleaming sun
  With heavenly radiance to his setting went. 
  Then to the prison did those people lead
  Their hated foe; yet to the heart of Christ 1250
  Was he full dear; within his holy breast
  His soul shone bright—­a mind invincible. 
  So all night long the hero brave of heart,
  That holy saint, dwelt ’neath the gloomy shades,
  Beset with cunning snares.  Snow bound the earth
  In wintry storms; the air grew bitter cold
  With heavy showers of hail; the rime and frost,
  Those warriors hoary, locked the homes of men,
  The people’s dwellings; frozen were the lands
  With icicles; the water’s might shrank up 1260
  Within the rivers, and the ice bridged o’er
  The gleaming water-roads.  The noble saint
  Abode blithe-hearted, planning valiant deeds,
  Bold and courageous in his misery,
  Throughout the wintry night; nor did he e’er,
  Dismayed by terror, cease to praise the Lord,
  And ever worship Him, as at the first,
  With righteous heart, until the radiant gem
  Of glory rose.

               Then came a mighty troop,
  A throng of warriors thirsting after blood, 1270
  With clamor loud unto the prison mirk. 
  They gave command to lead the noble saint,
  That steadfast man, into his foemen’s grasp;
  And once again he suffered all day long,
  Beaten with grievous blows; his blood welled out
  In streams o’er all his body....
  ...Worn with wounds
  He scarce felt any pain.  Then from his breast
  The sound of weeping issued faintly forth,
  A stream welled up, and thus he spake in words:—­ 1280
  “O God, my Lord, behold now mine estate,
  Ruler of hosts, Thou who dost understand
  And know the misery of every man;
  I trust in Thee, Thou Author of my life,
  That, in Thy mercy and Thy glorious power,
  O Savior of mankind, Thou never wilt
  Forsake me, everlasting God of might;
  So while my life shall last I ne’er will leave,
  O God, Thy gracious teachings!  Lo, Thou art 1290
  A shield against the weapons of the foe
  For all Thy saints, eternal Source of joy. 
  Let not man’s foe, the first-born child of sin,
  Revile me now, nor by his fiendish craft
  Cover with woe the men who spread Thy praise.”

    Then in their midst the ugly fiend appeared,
  That wicked traitor damned to torments sharp;
  Before the host he taught the warriors,
  The Devil of hell, and this word did he speak:—­
  “Come, smite the wicked wretch upon his mouth, 1300
  The foeman of this folk; too much he talks!”