85 In that wood there dwelleth a wondrous bird,
Fearless in flight, the Phoenix its name.
Lonely it liveth its life in this place,
Doughty of soul; death never seeks him
In that well-loved wood while the world shall endure.
90 He is said to watch the sun on his way
And to go to meet God's bright candle,
That gleaming gem, and gladly to note
When rises in radiance the most royal of stars
Up from the east over the ocean's waves,
95 The famous work of the Father, fair with adornments,
The bright sign of God. Buried are the stars,
Wandering 'neath the waters to the western realms;
They grow dim at dawn, and the dark night
Creepeth wanly away. Then on wings of strength,
100 Proud on his pinions, he placeth his gaze
Eagerly on the streams, and stares over the water
Where the gleam of heaven gliding shall come
O'er the broad ocean from the bright east.
So the wondrous bird at the water's spring
105 Bideth in beauty, in the brimming streams.
Twelve times there the triumphant bird
Bathes in the brook ere the beacon appears,
The candle of heaven, and the cold stream
Of the joy-inspiring springs he tasteth
110 From the icy burn at every bath.
Then after his sport in the springs at dawn,
Filled full of pride he flies to a tree
Where most easily he may in the eastern realm
Behold the journey, when the jewel of heaven
115 Over the shimmering sea, the shining light,
Gleameth in glory. Garnished is the land,
The world made beautiful, when the blessed gem
Illumines the land, the largest of stars
In the circle of the seas sends forth its rays.
120 Soon as the sun over the salt streams;
Rises in glory, then the gray-feathered bird
Blithely rises from the beam where he rested;
Fleet-winged he fareth and flieth on high;
Singing and caroling he soareth to heaven.
125 Fair is the famous fowl in his bearing
With joy in his breast, in bliss exulting;
He warbles his song more wondrously sweet
And choicer of note than ever child of man
Heard beneath the heavens since the High King,
130 The worker of wonders, the world established,
Heaven and earth. His hymn is more beautiful
And fairer by far than all forms of song-craft;
Its singing surpasseth the sweetest of music.
To the song can compare not the sound of trumpet,
135 Nor of horn; nor of harp, nor of heroes' voices
On all the earth, nor of organ's sound,
Nor singing song nor swan's fair feathers,
Nor of any good thing that God created
As a joy to men in this mournful world!
140 Thus he singeth and carolleth crowned with joy,
Until the bright sun in a southern sky
Sinks to its setting; then silent he is
And listeneth and boweth and bendeth his head,
Sage in his thoughts, and thrice he shaketh
145 His feathers for flight; the fowl is hushed.
Twelve equal times he telleth the hours
Of day and night. 'Tis ordained in this way,
And willed that the dweller of the woods should have joy,
Pleasure in that plain and its peaceful bliss,
150 Taste delights and life and the land's enjoyments,
Till he waiteth a thousand winters of life,
The aged warden of the ancient wood.
Then the gray-feathered fowl in the fullness of years
Is grievously stricken. From the green earth he fleeth,
155 The favorite of birds, from the flowering land,
And beareth his flight to a far-off realm,
To a distant domain where dwelleth no man,
As his native land. Then the noble fowl
Becometh ruler over the race of birds,
160 Distinguished in their tribe, and for a time he dwelleth
With them in the waste. Then on wings of strength,
He flieth to the west, full of winters,
Swift on his wing; in swarms then press,
The birds about their lord; all long to serve him
165 And to live in loyalty to their leader brave,
Until he seeketh out the Syrian land
With mighty train. Then turneth the pure one
Sharply away, and in the shade of the forest
He dwells, in the grove, in the desert place,
170 Concealed and hid from the host of men.
There high on a bough he abides alone,
Under heaven's roof, hard by the roots
Of a far stretching tree, which the Phoenix is called
By the nations of earth from the name of that bird.
175 The King of glory has granted that tree,
The Holy One of heaven, as I have heard said,
That it among all the other trees
That grow in the glorious groves of the world
Bloometh most brightly. No blight may hurt it,
180 Nor work it harm, but while the world stands
It shall be shielded from the shafts of evil.