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
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