The Lord appears and bids him enter the city, covering him with a cloud (818-989).  He reaches the prison, the doors of which fly open at his touch, and rescues Matthew, whom he sends away with all his company (990-1057).  The Mermedonians, confronted with famine, choose one of their number by lot to serve as food for the rest.  He offers his son as a substitute, but, as the heathen are about to slay their victim, Andrew interposes and causes their weapons to melt away like wax (1058-1154).  Instigated by the Devil, they seize Andrew, and for three days subject him to the most cruel torments (1155-1462).  On the fourth the Lord comes to his prison and heals him of his wounds.  Beside the prison wall Andrew sees a marble pillar, which, at his command, sends forth a great flood, destroying many of the people (1462-1575).  Andrew takes pity upon them and causes the flood to cease.  The mountain is cleft and swallows up the waters, together with fourteen of the worst of the heathen.  The others are restored to life and baptized.  After building a church and appointing a bishop, Andrew returns to Achaia, followed by the prayers of his new converts (1575-1722).

THE LEGEND OF ST. ANDREW

  Lo! we have learned of Twelve in days gone by,
  Who dwelt beneath the stars, in glory rich,
  Thanes of the Lord, whose courage for the fight
  Failed never, e’en when helmets crashed in war,
  From that time when they portioned each his place,
  As God himself declared to them by lot,
  High King of heaven above.  Renowned men
  Were they through all the earth, and leaders bold,
  Brave in the battle, warriors of might,
  When shield and hand the helmet did protect 10
  Upon the field of fate.  Of that brave band
  Was Matthew one, who first among the Jews
  Began to write the Gospel down in words
  With wondrous power.  To him did Holy God
  Assign his lot upon that distant isle
  Where never yet could any outland man
  Enjoy a happy life or find a home. 
  Him did the murderous hands of bloody men
  Upon the field of battle oft oppress
  Right grievously.  That country all about,
  The folkstead of the men, was compassed
  With slaughter and with foemen’s treachery, 20
  That home of heroes.  Dwellers in that land
  Had neither bread nor water to enjoy,
  But on the flesh and blood of stranger men,
  Come from afar, that people made their feast. 
  This was their custom:  every foreigner
  Who visited that island from without
  They seized as food—­these famine-stricken men. 
  This was the cruel practice of that folk,
  Mighty in wickedness, most savage foes:  30
  With javelin points they poured upon the ground
  The jewel of the head, the eyes’ clear sight;
  And after brewed for them a bitter draught—­
  These wizards by their magic—­drink accursed,
  Which led astray the wits of hapless men,
  The heart within their breasts, until they grieved
  No longer for the happiness of men;
  Weary for food they fed on hay and grass.