that bind 100
  Thy limbs, and loose all that great multitude
  That dwells with thee in strait captivity. 
  To thee I open by My holy power
  The meadow radiant of Paradise,
  Brightest of splendors, dwelling-place most fair,
  That home most blessed, where thou mayst enjoy
  Glory and bliss to everlasting life. 
  Suffer this people’s cruelty; not long
  Can faithless men afflict thee sinfully
  With chains of torment by their crafty wiles. 
  Straight will I send unto this heathen town 110
  Andrew to be thy comfort and defense;
  He will release thee from thine enemies. 
  Thou hast not long to wait; in very truth
  But seven and twenty days fulfil the time,
  When, sorrow-laden, thou shalt go from hence,
  Under God’s care, with victory adorned.” 
  The Holy One, Defense of all mankind,
  The angels’ Lord, departed to the land
  High in the heavens—­He is the King by right, 120
  Steadfast He rules supreme in all the world.

    Exalted high was Matthew at the voice
  New-heard.  The veil of darkness slipped away,
  Vanished in haste; and straightway came the light,
  The murmuring sound of early reddening dawn. 
  The host assembled; heathen warriors
  Thronged in great crowds; their battle-armor sang;
  Their spears they brandished, angry in their hearts,
  Under the roof of shields; they fain would see
  Whether those hapless men were yet alive,
  Who fast in chains within their prison-walls 130
  Had dwelt a while in comfortless abode,
  And which one they might first for their repast
  Rob of his life after the time ordained. 
  They had set down, those slaughter-greedy foes,
  In runic characters and numerals
  The death-day of those men, when they should serve
  As food unto that famine-stricken tribe. 
  Then clamored loudly that cold-hearted brood;
  Throng pressed on throng; their cruel counsellors
  Recked not at all of mercy or of right. 
  Oft did their souls, led by the devil’s lore, 140
  Under the dusky shadows penetrate,
  When in the might of beings ever-cursed
  They put their trust.  They found that holy man,
  Prudent of mind, within his prison dark,
  Awaiting bravely what the radiant King,
  Creator of the angels, should vouchsafe. 
  Then was accomplished, all except three nights,
  The appointed time, the season foreordained,
  Which those fierce wolves of war had written down,
  At end of which they planned to break his bones, 150
  And, parting straight his body and his soul,
  To portion out as food to old and young
  The body of the slain, a welcome feast;
  They cared not for the soul, those greedy men,
  How after death the spirit’s pilgrimage
  Might be decreed.  So every thirty nights
  They held their feast; most fierce was their desire