The Old English Physiologus/The Asp-Turtle
Nū ic fitte gēn ymb fisca cynn wille wōðcræfte wordum cȳþan þurh mōdgemynd, bi þām miclan hwale. Sē bið unwillum oft gemēted, 5 frēcne and fer[h]ðgrim, fareðlācendum, niþþa gehwylcum; þām is noma cenned, fyr[ge]nstrēama geflotan, Fastitocalon. Is þæs hīw gelīc hrēofum stāne, swylce wōrie bi wædes ōfre, 10 sondbeorgum ymbseald, sǣrȳrica mǣst, swā þæt wēnaþ wǣglīþende þæt hȳ on ēalond sum ēagum wlīten; and þonne gehȳd[i]að hēahstefn scipu tō þām unlonde oncyrrāpum, 15 s[ǣ]laþ sǣmearas sundes æt ende, and þonne in þæt ēglond ūp gewītað frōfre tō fēondum, oþþæt hy fæste ðǣr wīde weleras; cymeð wynsum stenc gyltum gehrodene, and ǣr georne his 75 in hira līfdagum lārum hȳrdon, þonne he þā grimman gōman bihlemmeð, æfter feorhcwale, fæste tōgædre, helle hlinduru. Nāgon hwyrft nē swice, ūtsīþ ǣfre, þā [þe] þǣr in cumað, 80 þon mā þe þā fiscas, faraðlācende, of þæs hwæles fenge hweorfan mōtan. Forþon is eallinga . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . dryhtna Dryhtne, and ā dēoflum wiðsace 85 wordum and weorcum, þæt wē Wuldorcyning gesēon mōton. Uton ā sibbe tō him, on þās hwīlnan tīd, hǣlu sēcan, þæt wē mid swā lēofne in lofe mōtan tō wīdan feore wuldres nēotan. |
Now will I spur again my wit, and use Poetic skill to weave words into song, Telling of one among the race of fish, The great asp-turtle. Men who sail the sea Often unwillingly encounter him, Dread preyer on mankind. His name we know, The ocean-swimmer, Fastitocalon. Dun, like rough stone in color, as he floats He seems a heaving bank of reedy grass Along the shore, with rolling dunes behind, So that sea-wanderers deem their gaze has found An island. Boldly then their high-pro wed ships They moor with cables to that shore, a land That is no land. Still floating on the waves, Their ocean-coursers curvet at the marge ; The weary-hearted sailors mount the isle, And, free from thought of peril, there abide. Elated, on the sands they build a fire, A mounting blaze. There, light of heart, they sit— No more discouraged—eager for sweet rest. Then when the crafty fiend perceives that men, Encamped upon him, making their abode, Enjoy the gentle weather, suddenly Under the salty waves he plunges down, Straight to the bottom deep he drags his prey ; He, guest of ocean, in his watery haunts Drowns ships and men, and fast imprisons them Within the halls of death. Such is the way Of demons, devils ' wiles : to hide their power, And stealthily inveigle heedless men, Inciting them against all worthy deeds, And luring them to seek for help and comfort From unsuspected foes, until at last They choose a dwelling with the faithless one. Then, when the fiend, by crafty malice stirred, From where hell's torments bind him fast, perceives That men are firmly set in his domain, With treachery unspeakable he hastes To snare and to destroy the lives of those, Both proud and lowly, who in sin perform His will on earth. Donning the mystic helm Of darkness, with his prey he speeds to hell, The place devoid of good—all misty gloom, Where broods a sullen lake, black, bottomless, Just as the monster, Fastitocalon, Destroys seafarers, overwhelming men And staunch-built ships. Another trait he has, This proud sea-swimmer, still more marvelous. When hunger grips the monster on the deep, Making him long for food, his gaping mouth The ocean- warder opens, stretching wide His monstrous lips ; and from his cavernous maw Sends an entrancing odor. This sweet scent, Deceiving other fishes, lures them on In swiftly moving schools toward that fell place Whence comes the perfume. There, unwary host, They enter in, until the yawning mouth Is filled to overflowing, when, at once, Trapping their prey, the fearful jaws snap shut. So, in this fleeting earthly time, each man Who orders heedlessly his mortal life Lets a sweet odor, some beguiling wish, Entice him, so that in the eyes of God, The King of glory, his iniquities Make him abhorrent. After death for him The all-accursed devil opens hell— Opens for all who in their folly here Let pleasures of the body overcome Their spirits' guidance. When the wily fiend Into his hold beside the fiery lake With evil craft has led those erring ones
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This time I will with poetic art rehearse, by means of words and wit, a poem about a kind of fish, the great sea-monster which is often unwillingly met, terrible and cruel-hearted to seafarers, yea, to every man ; this swimmer of the ocean-streams is known as the asp-turtle.
His appearance is like that of a rough boulder, as if there were tossing by the shore a great ocean-reedbank begirt with sand-dunes, so that seamen imagine they are gazing upon an island, and moor their high-prowed ships with cables to that false land, make fast the ocean- coursers at the sea's end, and, bold of heart, climb up on that island ; the vessels stand by the beach, enringed by the flood. The weary-hearted sailors then encamp, dreaming not of peril.
On the island they start a fire, kindle a mounting flame. The dispirited heroes, eager for repose, are flushed with joy. Now when the cunning plotter feels that the seamen are firmly established upon him, and have settled down to enjoy the weather, the guest of ocean sinks without warning into the salt wave with his prey (?), and makes for the bottom, thus whelming ships and men in that abode of death.
Such is the way of demons, the wont of devils : they spend their lives in outwitting men by their secret power, inciting them to the corruption of good deeds, misguiding them at will so that they seek help and support from fiends, until they end by making their fixed abode with the betrayer. When, from out his living torture, the crafty, malicious enemy perceives that any one is firmly settled within his domain, he proceeds, by his malignant wiles, to become the slayer of that man, be he rich or poor, who sinfully does his will ; and, covered by his cap of darkness, suddenly betakes himself with them to hell, where naught of good is found, a bottomless abyss shrouded in misty gloom—like that monster which engulfs the ocean-traversing men and ships.
This proud tosser of the waves has another and still more wonderful trait. When hunger plagues him on the deep, and the monster longs for food, this haunter of the sea opens his mouth, and sets his lips agape ;
whereupon there issues a ravishing perfume from his inwards, by which other kinds of fish are beguiled. With lively motions they swim to where the sweet odor comes forth, and there enter in, a heedless host, until the wide gorge is full ; then, in one instant, he snaps his fierce jaws together about the swarming prey.
Thus it is with any one who, in this fleeting time, full oft neglects to take heed to his life, and allows him- self to be enticed by sweet fragrance, a lying lure, so that he becomes hostile to the King of glory by reason of his sins. The accursed one will, when they die, throw wide the doors of hell to those who, in their folly, have wrought the treacherous delights of the body, contrary to the wise guidance of the soul. When the deceiver, skilful in wrongdoing, hath brought into that fastness, the lake of fire, those that cleave to him and are laden with guilt, such as had eagerly followed his teachings in the days of their life, he then, after their death, snaps tight together his fierce jaws, the gates of hell. They who enter there have neither relief nor escape, no means of flight, any more than the fishes that swim the sea can escape from the clutch of the monster.
Therefore is it by all means [best for every one of us to serve [1]] the Lord of lords, and strive against devils with words and works, that so we may come to behold the King of glory. Let us ever, now in this fleeting time, seek from him grace and salvation, that so with the Beloved we may in worship enjoy the bliss of heaven for evermore.