Bardaisan: Harp of the Pearl

Son of the river Dai?an that flowed with much joy Sailed into this world through ancient Edessa Hear: He is the true harp of the Holy Spirit Once a follower of the oracles of stars Soon realized the dark blindness of their teachings When he saw the light of the Son rise in the east No longer shooting arrows in the void and dark Going here and there like wandering planets Where no dim star could even bring a single spark He used his high-priced arrows of piercing insight His light and well-crafted bow of eloquence The sight and light of Christ with their radiant strength To save pearls of white from serpents of muddy black To pierce into the fabric of light and dark To save the maiden of truth from lions and wolves He sent for the philosopher king of sheol Pleading for the maiden to be safe from wolves But arrows never entered the emperor’s soul He made one hundred and fifty silver arrows That shone for ages and even wolves howled to The first of their kind in the land of Syria Though almost all these arrows faded from the world One arrow termed “Arrow of the Pearl” survived Enshrined as the most splendorous arrow crafted This arrow pierces flesh and frees the star within Rescues pearls from the black serpent of Egypt And returns those pearls to the Queen of the Dawn land According to legends older than those free stars He pierced into the soul of Abgar IX With the arrow of the only-begotten sun What is as sure as the sun rising each morning Is that the Empire of the Eagle flew And slew the kingdom of Edessa with its claws Abgar IX was forced into robes of grey chains With a crown of scorn to mark his last defeat While Emperor Caracalla squawked at his small prey Caracalla and his pets devoured many Many Students of the harp and archer died At last, the eagle went to the archer himself They demanded him to leave the light of the Son Meaning the sight that gave his archery skill He refused, prepared to face the darkness of death They banished him, though not out of this hylic life But to the dark and lonely walls of Ani The Son of the Dai?an was then near his bright end Hear: He is the true harp of the Holy Spirit The first crafted harp adorned with brown berylls Whom a future craftsman copied from with iron He is now at the ancient fountain of joy Source of that flowing river that none can destroy