The Old English Physiologus/The Panther

Monge sindon    geond middangeard unrīmu cynn,    [þāra] þe wē æþelu ne magon ryhte āreccan    nē rīm witan; þæs wīde sind    geond wor[u]l[d] innan 5 fugla and dēora    foldhrērendras, wornas widsceope,    swā wæter bibūgeð þisne beorhtan bōsm,    brim grymetende, sealtȳpa geswing.    Wē bi sumum hȳrdon wrǣtlīc[um] gecynd[e]    wildra secgan, 10 fīrum frēamǣrne,    feorlondum on, eard weardian,    ēðles nēotan, æfter dūnscrafum.    Is þæt dēor Pandher bi noman hāten,    þæs þe niþþa bear[n], wīsfæste weras,    on gewritum cȳþa[ð] 15 bi þām ānstapan. Sē is ǣ[g]hwām frēond, duguða ēstig,    būtan dracan ānum; þām hē in ealle tīd    andwrāð leofaþ, þurh yfla gehwylc    þe hē geæfnan mæg.  Ðæt is wrǣtlīc dēor,    wundrum scȳne, 20 hīwa gehwylces.    Swā hæleð secgað, gǣsthālge guman,    þætte Iōsēphes tunece wǣre    telga gehwylces blēom bregdende,    þāra beorhtra gehwylc, ǣghwæs ǣnlīcra,    ōþrum līxte 25 dryhta bearnum,    swā þæs dēores hīw, blǣc, brigda gehwæs,    beorhtra and scȳnra wundrum līxeð,    þætte wrǣtlīcra ǣghwylc ōþrum,    ǣnlīcra gīen and fǣgerra,    frætwum blīceð, 30 symle sellīcra. Hē hafað sundorgecynd, milde, gemetfæst.    Hē is monþwǣre, lufsum and lēoftæl:    nele lāþes wiht ǣ[ng]um geæfnan    būtan þām āttorsceaþan, his fyrngeflitan,    þe ic ǣr fore sægde. 35 Symle, fylle fægen,    þonne fōddor þigeð, æfter þām gereordum    ræste sēceð, dȳgle stōwe    under dūnscrafum ; ðǣr se þēo[d]wiga    þrēonihta fæc swifeð on swe[o]fote,    slǣpe gebiesga[d]. 40 Þonne ellenrōf    ūp āstondeð, þrymme gewelga[d],    on þone þriddan dæg, snēome of slǣpe.    Swēghlēoþor cymeð, wōþa wynsumast,    þurh þæs wildres mūð ; æfter pære stefne    stenc ūt cymeð 45 of þām wongstede —    wynsumra stēam, swēttra and swīþra,    swæcca gehwylcum, wyrta blōstmum    and wudublēdum, eallum æþelīcra    eorþan frætw[um]. Þonne of ceastrum    and cynestōlum 50 and of burgsalum    beornþrēat monig farað foldwegum    folca þrȳþum; ēoredcystum,    ofestum gefȳsde, dareðlācende    —dēor [s]wā some— æfter þǣre stefne    on þone stenc farað. 55 Swā is Dryhten God,    drēama Rǣdend, eallum ēaðmēde    ōþrum gesceaftum, duguða gehwylcre,    būtan dracan ānum, āttres ordfruman—    þæt is se ealda fēond þone hē gesǣlde    in sūsla grund, 60 and gefetrade    fȳrnum tēagum, biþeahte þrēanȳdum;    and þȳ þriddan dæge of dīgle ārās,    þæs þe hē dēað fore ūs þrēo niht þolade,    Þēoden engla, sigora Sellend.    Þæt wæs swēte stenc, 65 wlitig and wynsum,    geond woruld ealle. Siþþan tō þām swicce    sōðfæste men, on healfa gehwone,    hēapum þrungon geond ealne ymbhwyrft    eorþan scēat[a]. Swā se snottra gecwæð    Sanctus Paulus: 70 ‘Monigfealde sind    geond middangeard gōd ungnȳðe    þe ūs tō giefe dǣleð and tō feorhnere    Fæder ælmihtig, and se ānga Hyht    ealra gesceafta uppe ge niþre.’    Þæt is æþele stenc.

Of living creatures many are the kinds Throughout the world—unnumbered, since no man Can count their multitudes, nor rightly learn The ways of their wild nature ; wide they roam, These beasts and birds, as far as ocean sets A limit to the earth, embracing her And all her sunny fields with salty seas And toss of roaring billows. We have heard From men of wider lore of one wild beast, Wonderful dweller in a far-off land Renowned of men, who loves his native glens And dusky caverns. Him have wise men called The panther, and in books have told of him, The solitary rover. He is kind, A bounteous friend to every living thing Save one alone, the dragon ; but with him The panther ever lives at enmity, Employing every means within his power To work him evil. Fair is he, full bright And wonderful of hue. The holy scribes Tell us how Joseph's many-colored coat, Gleaming with varying dyes of every shade, Brilliant, resplendent, dazzled all men's eyes That looked upon it. So the panther's hues Shine altogether lovely, marvelous, While each fair color in its beauty glows Ever more rare and charming than the rest.  His wondrous character is mild, and free From all disturbing passion. Gracious, kind, And full of love, he meditates no harm But to that venomous foe, as I have told, His ancient enemy. Once he has rejoiced His heart with feasting, straight he finds a nook Hidden among dim caves, his resting-place. There three nights' space, in deepest slumber wrapped, The people's champion lies. Then, stout of heart, The third day he arises fresh from sleep, Endowed with glorv. From the creature's mouth Issues a melody of sweetest strains ; And close upon the voice a balmy scent Fills all the place—an incense lovelier, Sweeter, and abler to perfume the air, Than any odor of an earthly flower Or scent of woodland fruit, more excellent Than all this world's adornments. Then from town And palace, then from castle-hall, come forth Along the roads great troops of hurrying men— The very beasts come also; all press on Toward that sweet odor, when the voice is stilled.  Such as this creature is the Lord our God, Giver of joys, to all creation kind, To men benignant, save alone to him, The dragon, author of all wickedness, Satan, the ancient adversary whom, Fettered with fire, shackled with dire constraint, Into the pit of torments God cast down. The third day Christ arose from out the grave, For three nights having suffered death for us, He, Lord of angels, he in whom alone Is hope of overcoming. Far and wide The tidings spread, like perfume fresh and sweet, Through all the world. Then to that fragrance thronged From every side all men whose hearts were true, Throughout the regions of the circled earth. Thus spoke the wise St. Paul: 'In all the world His gifts are many, which he gives to us For our salvation with unstinting hand, Almighty Father, he, the only Hope Of all in heaven or here below on earth.' This is that noble fragrance, rare and sweet, Which draws all men to seek it from afar.

Many, yea numberless, are the tribes throughout the world whose natures we can not rightly expound nor their multitudes reckon, so immense are the swarms of birds and earth-treading animals wherever water, the roaring ocean, the surge of salt billows, encompasses the smiling bosom of earth.

We have heard about one marvelous kind of wild beast which inhabits, in lands far off, a domain renowned among men, rejoicing there in his home amid the mountain-caves. This beast is called panther, as the learned among the children of men report in their books concerning that lonely wanderer.

He is a friend, bountiful in kindness, to every one save only the dragon ; with him he always lives at enmity by means of every injury he can inflict.

He is a bewitching animal, marvelously beautiful with every color. Just as, according to men holy in spirit, Joseph's coat was variegated with hues of every shade, each shining before the sons of men brighter and more perfect than another, so does the color of this beast blaze with every diversity, gleaming in wondrous wise so clear and fair that each tint is ever lovelier than the next, glows more enchanting in its splendor, more rare, more beauteous, and more strange.

He has a nature all his own, so gentle and so calm is it. Kind, attractive, and friendly, he has no thought of doing harm to any save the envenomed foe, his ancient adversary of whom I spoke.

When, delighting in a feast, he has partaken of food, ever at the end of the meal he betakes himself to his resting-place, a hidden retreat among the mountain-caves; there the champion of his race, overcome by sleep, abandons himself to slumber for the space of three nights. Then the dauntless one, replenished with vigor, straightway arises from sleep when the third day has come. A melody, the most ravishing of strains, flows from the wild beast’s mouth; and, following the music, there issues a fragrance from the place — a fume more transporting, sweet, and strong than any odor whatever, than blossoms of plants or fruits of the forest, choicer than aught that clothes the earth with beauty. Thereupon from cities, courts, and castle-halls many companies of heroes flock along the highways of earth ; the wielders of the spear press forward in hurrying throngs to that perfume—and so also do animals—when once the music has ceased.

Even so the Lord God, the Giver of joy, is gracious to all creatures, to every order of them, save only the dragon, the source of venom, that ancient enemy whom he bound in the abyss of torments ; shackling him with fiery fetters, and loading him with dire constraints, he arose from darkness on the third day after he, the Lord of angels, the Bestower of victory, had for three nights endured death on our behalf. That was a sweet perfume throughout the world, winsome and entrancing. Henceforth, through the whole extent of earth's regions, righteous men have streamed in multitudes from every side to that fragrance. As said the wise St. Paul: 'Manifold over the world are the lavish bounties which the Father almighty, the Hope of all creatures above and below, bestows on us as grace and salvation.' That, too, is a sweet odor.