But when, at the monastery of Whitby, it was agreed that all should sing in turn, there was one among the circle around the fire who silently left his place and crept away, hanging his head in shame.

This man was called Caedmon.  He could not sing, and although he loved to listen to the songs of others, “whenever he saw the harp come near him,” we are told, “he arose out of shame from the feast and went home to his house.”  Away from the bright firelight out into the lonely dark he crept with bent head and lagging steps.  Perhaps he would stand a moment outside the door beneath the starlight and listen to the thunder of the waves and the shriek of the winds.  And as he felt in his heart all the beauty and wonder of the world, the glory and the might of the sea and sky, he would ask in dumb pain why, when he could feel it touch his heart, he could not also sing of the beauty and wonder, glory and might. [68]

One night Caedmon crept away as usual, and went “out of the house where the entertainment was, to the stable, where he had to take care of the horses that night.  He there composed himself to rest.  A person appeared to him then in a dream and, calling him by name, said, ‘Caedmon, sing some song to me.’

“He answered, ’I cannot sing; for that was the reason why I left the entertainment and retired to this place, because I cannot sing.’

“The other who talked to him replied, ‘However, you shall sing.’

“‘What shall I sing?’ rejoined he.

“‘Sing the beginning of created things,’ said the other.

“Whereupon he presently began to sing verses to the praise of God, which he had never heard, the purport whereof was thus:—­

    ’Now must we praise the guardian of heaven’s kingdom,
    The creator’s might and his mind’s thought;
    Glorious father of men! as of every wonder he,
    Lord eternal, formed the beginning. 
    He first framed for the children of earth
    The heaven as a roof; holy Creator! 
    Then mid-earth, the Guardian of mankind,
    The eternal Lord, afterwards produced;
    The earth for men, Lord almighty.’

“This,” says the old historian, who tells the story in Latin, “is the sense, but not the words in order as he sang them in his sleep.  For verses, though never so well composed, cannot be literally (that is word for word) translated out of one language into another without losing much of their beauty and loftiness."*

Bede, Ecclesiastical History.

Awakening from his sleep, Caedmon remembered all that he had sung in his dream.  And the dream did not fade away as most dreams do.  For he found that not only could he sing these verses, but he who had before been dumb and ashamed when the harp was put into his hand, could now make and sing more beautifully than could others.  And all that he sang was to God’s glory.

In the morning, full of his wonderful new gift, Caedmon went to the steward who was set over him, and told him of the vision that he had had during the night.  And the steward, greatly marveling, led Caedmon to the Abbess.