| THE PANTHER | THE PANTHER |
| Anon. | trans. Louis Rodrigues (from Anglo-Saxon) |
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Monge sindon geond middangeard unrimu cynn, þe we æpelu ne magon ryhte areccan ne rim witan; þæs wide sind geond world innan fugla ond deora foldhrerendra wornas widsceope, swa wæter bibugeð þisne beorhtan bosm brim grymetende sealtyþa geswing. We bi sumum hyrdon wrætlice gecynd wildra secgan firum freamærne feorlondum on eard weardian, eðles neotan æfter dunscrafum. Is þæt deor pandher bi noman haten, þæs þe niþþa bearn, wisfæste weras on gewritum cyþað bi þam anstapan. Se is æghwam freond, duguða estig, butan dracan anum, þam he in ealle tid ondwrað leofaþ þurh yfla gehwylc þe he geæfnan mæg. Ðæt is wrætlic deor, wundrum scyne hiwa gehwylces; swa hæleð secgað, gæsthalge guman, þætte Iosephes tunece wære telga gehwylces bleom bregdende, þara beorhtra gehwylc æghwæs ænlicra oþrum lixte dryhta bearnum, swa þæs deores hiw, blæc brigda gehwæs, beorhtra ond scynra wundrum lixeð, þætte wrætlicra æghwylc oþrum, ænlicra gien ond fægerra frætwum bliceð, symle sellicra. He hafað sundorgecynd, milde, gemetfæst. He is monþwære, lufsum ond leoftæl, nele laþes wiht ængum geæfnan butan þam attorsceaþan, his fyrngeflitan, þe ic ær fore sægde. Symle fylle fægen, þonne foddor þigeð, æfter þam gereordum ræste seceð dygle stowe under dunscrafum; ðær se þeodwiga þreonihta fæc swifeð on swefote slæpe gebiesgad. Þonne ellenrof up astondeð, þrymme gewelgad, on þone þriddan dæg, sneome of slæpe. Sweghleoþor cymeð, wopa wynsumast þurh þæs wildres muð. Æfter þære stefne stenc ut cymeð of þam wongstede, wynsumra steam, swettra ond swiþra swæcca gehwylcum, wyrta blostmum ond wudubledum, eallum æþelicra eorþan frætwum. Þonne of ceastrum ond cynestolum ond of burgsalum beornþreat monig farað foldwegum folca þryþum, eoredcystum, ofestum gefysde, dareðlacende; deor efne swa some æfter þære stefne on þone stenc farað. Swa is dryhten god, dreama rædend, eallum eaðmede oþrum gesceaftum, duguða gehwylcre, butan dracan anum, attres ordfruman. Þæt is se ealda feond, þone he gesælde in susla grund, ond gefetrade fyrnum teagum, biþeahte þreanydum, ond þy þriddan dæge of digle aras, þæs þe he deað fore us þreoniht þolade, þeoden engla, sigora sellend. Þæt wæs swete stenc, wlitig ond wynsum geond woruld ealle. Siþþan to þam swicce soðfæste men on healfa gehwone heapum þrungon geond ealne ymbhwyrft eorþan sceata. Swa se snotra gecwæð sanctus Paulus: 'Monigfealde sind geond middangeard god ungnyðe þe us to giefe dæleð ond to feorhnere fæder ælmihtig, ond se anga hyht ealra gesceafta, uppe ge niþre.' Þæt is æþele stenc. |
Throughout middle-earth there are many kinds of creatures, whose nature we cannot rightly recount or know the number; so widely scattered throughout the world are the multitudes of birds and beasts that move on the earth, even as water, the roaring sea, the salt waves' swell, girds this bright bosom. We have heard tell of the wondrous nature of one wild beast that, in a far land famous among men, bides in a dwelling, holds his domain, amid mountain caves. That beast is called Panther by name, as the sons of men, men of wisdom, have told us in writings about that lone-stepper. He is a friend to all, gracious in gifts, save only the serpent, with whom he always lives in hostility for every evil which he can effect. That is a beauteous beast wondrously radiant in all his hues; just as heroes, men holy in spirit, say that Joseph's coat shimmered in colours of every dye, each of which, brighter and more splendid than the other, shone among the sons of men, so this beast's hue, brighter and more brilliant in its variety, shines wondrously, so that each was more marvellous than the others, yet more unique and fairer in its beauty, always much rarer. He has a strange nature, mild, slow to wrath. He is gentle, loving, and kind; he will do no harm to anyone save that venomous foe. his old enemy, of whom I spoke before. Ever pleased with plenty. when he consumes food, he seeks rest after feasting, a secret spot in the mountain-caves; there, for three nights, the great warrior drowses in slumber, sunk in sleep. Then, valiant, enriched with strength, on the third day he rises up swiftly from sleep. A melody comes forth, sweetest of songs, from the beast's mouth. After that voice an odour issues from the place, a breath more pleasant, sweeter and stronger than all the scents of flowering herbs and forest fruits. more excellent than all the treasures of earth. Then from cities and royal seats and castle-halls many crowds of men, troops of men, traverse earth-tracks, javelin-throwers in troops impelled by haste; animals, too, after the voice, are drawn to the smell. Thus is the Lord God, Giver of joys, gracious of every gift to all other creatures save only the serpent, the author of venom. That is the ancient fiend whom He bound in the abyss of torments, and fettered with fiery chains, loaded with misery; and, on the third day, He rose from His secret spot, Prince of angels, Giver of victories, after He suffered death for us three nights. That was a sweet smell, fair and winsome, throughout the whole world. Later pious men to that perfume hastened in hosts on every hand over all the extent of the regions of earth. T'hus spoke St Paul in his wisdom: 'Manifold and generous throughout the world are the good things granted us as a gift to save our lives by the Father Almighty, the only Hope of all created beings above and below.' That is an excellent smell. |
Transl. copyright © Louis J. Rodrigues, 1996 - publ. Llanerch Publishers
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