The Rood...

OK, folks. I didn't exactly get the last of the Sorrowful Mysteries in before Easter, but here's the beginning of a poem which expresses all one could say and more about the Crucifixion. These first few lines are from the Anglo-Saxon "Dream of the Rood"...to read it in its entirety (which isn't long) click here.

Hwæt, I will recount the best of dreams,
which I dreamed in the middle of the night,
after speech-bearers turned to rest.
It seemed to me that I saw a most wondrous tree,
the brightest of rood-trees, extend aloft
encircled by light. That sign was completely
covered with gold; jewels stood,
beautiful, at the surface of the earth; likewise there were five
up on the shoulder-beam. Many hosts of angels--fair by their pre-ordained condition--
gazed thereupon; nor was that indeed a criminal's cross,
but holy spirits, men over the earth,
and all this famous creation gazed upon it.
Wondrous was the tree of victory, and I with sins stained,
wounded sorely with blemishes. I saw the tree of glory
beautifully shine, adorned in its covering,
adorned with gold; jewels
covered splendidly the Lord's tree.