He is risen!
The Late Medieval Scottish Poet William Dunbar wrote these verses celebrating the Resurrection at Easter. The first verse here is provided in the original; the entirety is translated into modern English; and we leave you on this Easter Day with a reflection upon the poem’s vivid images of our Lord’s victory over the devil.
‘Done is a Battell on the Dragon Blak’
Done is a battell on the dragon blak,
Our campioun Chryst confoundit hes his force,
The yettis of hell ar brokin with a crak,
The signe trivmphall rasit is of the croce.
The diuillis trymmillis with hiddous voce,
The saulis ar borrowit and to the blis can go.
Chryst with his blud our ransonis dois indoce:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.
‘Done is a Battle on the Dragon Black’1
Done is a battle on the dragon black,
Our champion Christ has confounded his force;
The gates of hell are broken with a crack,
The sign triumphal raised (that is, the cross),
The devils tremble with hideous voice,
The souls are redeemed and to the bliss can go,
Christ with his blood our ransom does endorse:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.
Beaten is the deadly dragon Lucifer,
The cruel serpent with the mortal sting,
The old sharp tiger with his teeth bared,
Who in wait has lain for us so long,
Thinking to grip us in his claws strong:
The merciful Lord would not that it were so,
He made him for to fail of that prize:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.
He who for our sake allowed himself to be slain,
And like a lamb in sacrifice was offered,
Is like a lion risen up again,
And like a giant raised himself on high:
Risen is Aurora radiant and bright,
Aloft is gone the glorious Apollo,2
The blissful day departed from the night:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.
The great victor again is risen on high
Who on our behalf to the death was wounded;
The son that waxed all pale now shimmers bright,
And, darkness cleared, our faith is now refounded.
The knell of mercy from the heav’n is sounded,
The Christians are delivered from their woe,
The Jews and their error are confounded:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.
The foe is chased, the battle is done,
The prison broken, the jailers fled and banished,
The war is gone, confirmèd is the peace,
The fetters loosed and the dungeon emptied,
The ransom made, the prisoners redeemed,
The field is won, overcome is the foe,
Despoiled of the treasure that he held:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.
— William Dunbar
In the poem Dunbar envisions Christ as a medieval knight, a champion doing battle with the devil, the “the dragon black.” He is our champion, for we are unable to battle ourselves. Different theologians from St. Anselm to St. Thomas Aquinas have stressed different aspects of the Atonement, certainly, but the poetic image of Our Lord battling the devil on our behalf is deeply moving. Overcome by sin and indebted to God such that we could never, on our own, repay, we have need of a champion. Our champion must himself be sinless and innocent, else he would be in the same position as we. A man drowning himself cannot help others to shore.
It is only the blood of the innocent, the Lamb of God, that can pay the ransom owed by the guilty to redeem them. Furthermore, a man redeems something when he pays to get back something that is really his own. We had really belonged to Christ, but by our actions had surrendered ourselves to the devil. It took the Crucifixion of Christ, the spotless Victim, the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world, to redeem us and pay back the debt we could never have paid on our own. Dunbar stresses this when he writes, “The souls are redeemed and to the bliss can go / Christ with his blood our ransom does endorse.”
But at the moment of sacrifice, Christ, to human (and to devilish) eyes, seems so helpless and weak:
He who for our sake allowed himself to be slain,
And like a lamb in sacrifice was offered…
The contrast here is stark. We imagine here a small, innocent lamb, slain by a monstrous dragon. The dragon roars his triumph to the skies and all seems lost. He has been waiting, plotting, to bring about this day, ever since the beginning:
The cruel serpent with the mortal sting,
The old sharp tiger with his teeth bared,
Who in wait has lain for us so long,
Thinking to grip us in his claws strong…
The massive dragon seemed triumphant on Good Friday, the lamb slain, and all hope lost.
Yet, soon afterward, everything is reversed. He Who was slain like a lamb is risen now, Dunbar says, like a “lion,” a “giant”; He is the great victor, and the dragon is hurled down in defeat.
The Venerable Bishop Fulton Sheen wrote that “evil may have its hour, but God will have His day.”
And His day has arrived. For as Dunbar writes in a moving rhythmic conclusion to each verse, “Surrexit Dominus de supulchro”: the Lord is risen from the tomb.
Who on our behalf to the death was wounded;
The son that waxed all pale now shimmers bright,
And, darkness cleared, our faith is now refounded.
The image of the pale, lifeless body of our Lord now shining brightly with life and glory “clears the darkness,” refounding our faith. At the Resurrection, the faith of the Apostles, lost when they fled and all seemed lost, now became founded on something more sure and certain.
For the Jews of the Old Testament, their faith was founded on the prophets, the Covenant between God and their people, and eventually, the hope of a promised Messiah. Now, concretely in the Resurrection, our hope is refounded, or founded, once and for all, on the sure and certain faith in the Resurrection, a God who suffered the worst evil could do, who battled the dragon, and triumphed over sin and death for our sakes. Our faith is now founded on this fact, the fact of the Resurrection. Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.
Happy Easter!
Editor’s Note: We ourselves do not intend or endorse the direct comparison of Christ to Apollo, Aurora, or any other pagan figures mentioned in the poem or elsewhere. In the history of religious literature, particularly in the medieval and Renaissance eras, it was common for some Catholic poets to include references to pagan mythology, considering certain pagan gods to be imperfect types of Christ. Although such references may surprise modern readers, we believe the medieval poet had no intention of committing blasphemy or of implying a direct relationship or equation between Christ and pagan figures.