We have first the simple, quiet prelude.

Lo, I will tell of the best of dreams, I dreamed at the deep midnight,
When all men lay at rest.

Then comes the description of the Cross in its glory. It is uplift and
girt with light, flooded with gold and set with precious gems. This is
followed by the seeing through the glory, the seeing of the anguish. The
hues are shifted from dark to bright; the light of gold lights it, and
yet anon it is wet, defiled with Blood. Here are the two sides of the
Passion: the veiled glory, and the illumined anguish: the supreme might,
and the absolute weakness: the darkness of the grave, and the light of
the Resurrection.

While time shall be, the Cross is to us all the Book where we may read
all we choose to read, all God sends us grace to read. Cynewulf chose to
read, and with Cynewulf was the grace of God.

The poet lies beholding the wondrous sight: the sight that all God's
fair angels beheld, and all the universe, and men of mortal breath.

The Rood speaks to Cynewulf. To us, with every look upon the Cross,
should come, would come, were we alive all through with keen, sweet,
spiritual life, the voice telling of the Passion, of the victory, of the
glory. Cynewulf heard the Rood tell how long ago it was hewn down,
ordained to lift up the evil-doers, to bear the law-breakers.

They bore me on their shoulders then, on hill they set me high,
And made me fast, a many foes. Then mankind's Lord drew nigh,