Of dwellers in that town; loud shouts arose.

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,