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Andreas: The Legend of St. Andrew by Unknown
page 59 of 77 (76%)
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!"

Then was the strife stirred up once more anew,
And violence arose, until the sun
Went to his setting 'neath the gloomy earth;
Night shrouded all, and spread o'er mountains steep,
A dusky brown. Then to the prison mirk
Once more the brave and righteous saint was led,
And all night long that true man had to dwell
Within his wretched den, the house unclean. 1310

Then came unto the hall with other six
That demon vile, mindful of evil deeds,
The lord of murder, shrouded in deep gloom,
The Devil fierce, bereft of majesty,
And to the saint he spake reviling words:--
"Andrew, why didst thou plan thy coming here,
Into the power of foes? Where is that fame
Which in thy arrogance thou didst set up,
When thou wouldst overthrow our gods' renown?
Thou hast claimed all things for thyself alone, 1320
The land and people, as thy master did;
He set up royal power upon the earth,
As long as it might stand--Christ was his name.
Herod, the king, deprived him of his life,
He overcame the King of the Jews in war,
Robbed him of power, and nailed him on the rood,
That on the cross he might give up his life.
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