raging deep; the sea-gull gray,
Greedy for slaughter, flew in circling flight.
The candle of the sky grew straightway dark,
The winds waxed strong, the waves whirled, and the surge
Leapt high, the ropes creaked, dripping with the waves;
The Terror of the waters rose, and stood
Above them with the might of multitudes.
The thanes were sore afraid, not one of them
Dared hope that he would ever reach the land,
Of those who by the sea had sought a ship
With Andrew, for as yet they did not know 380
Who pointed out the course for that sea-bark.

[Footnote 1: Lit. "whale-sea."]

When he had eaten, then the faithful thane,
Saint Andrew, thanked the noble Counselor,
Upon the ocean, on the oar-swept sea:--
"For this repast may God, the righteous Lord,
Ruler of hosts, who sheds the light of life,
Grant thee reward, and give thee for thy food
The bread of heaven, e'en as thou hast shown
Good will and kindness to me on the deep. 390
My thanes, these warriors young, are sore afraid;
Loud roars the raging, overwhelming sea;
The ocean is all troubled, deeply moved;
And weary is my band, my company
Of valiant-hearted men, afflicted sore."
The Lord of men gave answer from the helm:--
"Our ship shall bear us back across the flood
Unto the land, and there thy men can wait
Upon the shore until thou come again." 400
Straightway those men gave answer unto him,
Thanes much-enduring; they would not consent
To leave alone upon the vessel's prow
Their master dear, and choose themselves the land.
"O whither shall we turn us, lordless men,
Mourning in heart, forsaken quite by God,
Wounded with sin, if we abandon thee?
We shall be odious in every land,
Hated of every folk, when sons of men,
Courageous warriors, in council sit 410
And question which of them did best stand by
His lord in battle, when the hand and shield,
Worn out by broadswords on the battle-plain,
Suffered sore danger in the sport of war."

Then spake the noble Lord, the faithful King;
Straightway He lifted up His voice and said:--
"If, as thou sayst, thou art indeed a thane
Of Him who sits enthroned in majesty,
All-glorious King, expound His mysteries,
How 'neath the sky He taught speech-uttering men. 420
Long is this journey o'er the fallow flood;
Comfort the hearts of thy disciples; great
Is yet o