Let javelin-point and arrow poison-dipped 1330
Pierce his doomed breast! Advance, ye bold of heart,
That ye may humble low this warrior's pride!"

Fierce-souled were they, and quickly rushed they on
With greedy hands; but God defended him,
Guiding him steadfast by His own strong might.
Soon as they recognized upon his face
The glorious token of Christ's holy cross,
They all were terrified in the attack,
Sorely afraid, thrown headlong into flight. 1340

The ancient fiend, the prisoner of hell,
Began once more to sing his mournful song:--
"What happened, O my warriors so bold,
My shield-companions, that ye fared so ill?"

An ill-starred wretch, a fiend of wicked heart,
Gave answer then, and to his father said:--
"We shall not quickly work him any harm,
Nor slay him by our wiles; go thou to him;
There wilt thou surely find a bitter fight,
A savage battle, if again thou dar'st 1350
To risk thy life against that lonely man.
Much better counsel in the play of swords
We easily can give thee, lord beloved:
Before thou shalt resort to open war
And battle-rush, see to it how thou fare
In that exchange of blows; but let us go
Again, that we may mock him fast in bonds,
And taunt him with his misery; have words
Ready devised against that wicked wretch."

Then with a mighty voice cried out that fiend 1360
Weighed down with torments, and this word he spake:--
"Long time, O Andrew, hast thou been well versed
In arts of sorcery; thou hast deceived
And led astray much people; but thou shalt
No longer now have power upon such works,
For grievous torments are decreed for thee
According to thy deeds. With weary heart,
Joyless, degraded, thou shalt suffer woes,
The bitter pangs of death. My warriors
Are ready for the battle; they will soon
Deprive thee of thy life by valiant deeds. 1370
What man on earth so mighty that he may
Release thee from thy bonds, if I oppose?"

Straightway did Andrew answer him again:--
"Almighty God with ease can rescue me
From all my grief--He who in days of yore
Fettered thee fast with fiery chains in woe.
There, shorn of glory, bound with torments fierce,
In exile hast thou dwelt e'er since the day 1380
When thou didst set at naught the word of God,
Of Heaven's King; then did thy woe begin,
And to thy exile there shall b