The Death of Saint Brendan By J.R.R. Tolkien | Orthodox Navigator Saint! | CWJS038 CWP084

What if the boundaries between our world and the mystical were more fluid than we ever imagined? Join us as we journey with "The Death of Saint Brendan" by JRR Tokien, sailing alongside St Brendan through spellbinding seas toward the verdant lands of Galway. Through vivid storytelling, we unravel St Brendan's mesmerizing encounters with elusive elven kind and his awe-inspiring discovery of the Tower of Doom. Prepare yourself for an exploration of the profound symbolism within his quest, as he reflects on the cloud, tree, and star that linger in his mind—a poignant trinity of memories that encapsulate the spirit of his voyage.

Our narrator, John Lee, captures the enchanting and introspective nature of St Brendan's odyssey, transporting you to a realm where time stands still and the quest for a land beyond becomes an existential pursuit. Whether you're captivated by myth and legend or simply curious about the intricacies of a legendary voyage, this episode promises to leave you pondering the eternal questions of discovery and the soul's journey beyond the confines of the known. Listen in to uncover the spiritual depth of St Brendan's adventure and find yourself lost in the ethereal landscapes and timeless questions his journey invokes.

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The Death of Saint Brendan
by J.R.R. Tolkien

At last out of the deep seas he passed,
and mist rolled on the shore;
under clouded moon the waves were loud,
as the laden ship him bore
to Ireland, back to wood and mire,
to the tower tall and grey,
where the knell of Cluian-ferta’s bell
tolled in the green Galway.
Where Shannon down to Lough Derg ran
under a rainclad sky
Saint Brendan came to his journey’s end
to await his hour to die.

‘O! tell me, father, for I loved you well,
if still you have words for me,
of things strange in the remembering
in the long and lonely sea,
of islands by deep spells beguiled
where dwell the Elven-kind:
in seven long years the road to Heaven
or the Living Land did you find?’

‘The things I have seen, the many things,
have long now faded far;
only three come clear now back to me:
a Cloud, a Tree, a Star.
We sailed for a year and a day and hailed
no field nor coast of mean;
no boat nor bird saw we ever afloat
for forty days and ten.
We saw no sun at set or dawn,
but a dun cloud lay ahead,
and a drumming there was like thunder coming
and a gleam of fiery red.

Upreared from sea to cloud then sheer
a shoreless mountain stood;
its sides were black from the sullen tide
to the red lining of its hood.
No cloak of cloud, no lowering smoke,
no looming storm of thunder
in the world of men saw I ever unfurled
like the pall that we passed under.
We turned away, and we left astern
the rumbling and the gloom;
then the smoking cloud asunder broke,
and we saw the Tower of Doom:
in its ashen head was a crown of red,
where the fishes flamed and fell.
Tall as a column in High Heaven’s hall,
its feet were deep as Hell;
grounded in chasms the water drowned
and buried long ago,
it stands, I ween, in forgotten lands
where the kings of kings lie low.

We sailed then on, till the wind had failed,
and we toiled then with the oar,
and hunger an thirst us sorely wrung,
and we sang our psalms no more.
A land at last with a silver strand
at the end of strenght we found;
the waves were singing in pillared caves
and pearls lay on the ground;
and steep the shores went upward leaping
to slopes of green and gold,
and a stream out of rich and teeming
through a coomb of shadow rolled.

Thank you for journeying w/ the Saints with us!

Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:00

The Death of St Brandon by JRR Tokin. At last, out of the deep seas he passed, and mist rolled on the shore Under clouded moon. The waves were loud as the laden ship him bore to island, back to wood and mire, to the tower, tall and grey, where the knell of Cleuane Furtus bell Tolled. In the green Galway, where Shannon, down to Lodeg, ran Under a rain-clad sky, st Brendan came to his journey's end To await his hour to die. O tell me, father, for I loved you well, if still you have words for me of things strange in the remembering, in the long and lonely sea of islands by deep spells beguiled, where dwell the elven kind in seven long years? The road to heaven or the living land? Did you find the things I have seen? The many things have long now faded far. Only three come clear now back to me a cloud, a tree, a star.

Speaker 1: 1:19

We sailed for a year and a day and hailed. No field nor coast of mean, no boat nor bird saw we ever afloat for forty days and ten. We saw no sun at set or dawn, but a dun cloud lay ahead and a drumming. There was like thunder coming and a gleam of fiery red Upreared from sea to cloud and sheer, a shoreless mountain stood. Its sides were black, from the sullen tide to the red lining of its hood. No cloak of cloud, no lowering smoke, no looming storm of thunder. And the world of men, saw I, ever unfurled like the pall that we passed under. We turned away and we left astern the rumbling and the gloom. Then the smoking cloud asunder broke and we saw the Tower of Doom. In its ashen head was a crown of red where the fishes flamed and fell Tall as a column in high heaven's hall. Its feet were deep as hell, grounded in chasms. The water drowned and buried long ago Its stands, I weaned, in forgotten lands where the kings of kings lie low. We sailed on then till the wind had failed and we toiled then with the oar, and hunger and thirst are sorely wrung and we sang our psalms no more A land, at last, with a silver strand at the end of strength. We found the waves were singing in pillared caves and pearls lay on the ground and steep. The shores went upward, leaping to slopes of green and gold, and a stream out of rich and teeming Through a comb of shadow rolled Through gates of stone. We rode in haste and passed and left the sea and silence, like dew, fell in that isle, and holy it seemed to be, as a green cup deep in a brim of green that, with wine the white sun fills, was the land we found and we saw their stand on a lounge between the hills.

Speaker 1: 3:32

A tree, more fair than ever, I deemed, might climb in paradise. Its foot was like a great tower's root, its height beyond men's eyes, so wide its branches, the least could hold in shade, an acre long, and they rose as steep as mountain snows, those bows so broad and strong For white as a winter, to my sight, the leaves of that tree were, they grew more close than swan-winged plumes, all long and soft and fair. We deemed then, maybe as in a dream, that time had passed away and our journey ended for no return. We hoped had there to stay In the silence of that hollow isle, in the stillness that we sang softly as seemed, but the sound aloft, like a peeling organ rang. Then trembled, the tree from crown to stem, from the limbs, the leaves and air, as white birds fled in wheeling flight and left the branches bare. From the sky came dropping down on high, a music, not of bird, not a voice of man, nor angel's voice. But maybe there is a third Fair kindred in the world yet lingers beyond the founded land. Yet steep are the seas and the waters, deep beyond the white tree strand. Oh, stay now, father.

Speaker 1: 4:55

There's more to say, but two things. You have told the tree, the cloud, but you've spoke of three. A star in mind. You hold A star, yes, I saw it High and far, at the parting of the ways, a light on the edge of the outer night, like silver set ablaze, where the round world plunges steeply down but on the old road goes as an unseen bridge that on the arches runs to coasts that no man knows. But men say, father, that ere the end.

Speaker 1: 5:31

You went where none have been. I would hear you tell me, father, dear of the last land you have seen, in my mind the star I still can find and the parting of the seas, mind, the star I still can find, and the parting of the seas and the bridge is sweet and keen as death. That was born upon the breeze. But where they bloom, those flowers fair, in what air or land they grow? What words beyond the world I heard. If you would seek to know in a brother far afloat, you must labour in the sea and find for yourself things out of mind, you will learn no more of me. In Ireland, over wood and mire in the tower, tall and grey, the knell of Cluane Firther's bell was tolling in Green Galway. St Brendan had come to his life's end under a rain-clad sky and journeyed whence. No ship returns and his bones in Ireland lie.