Epilogus
Epilogue
The History of King Sweyn Estridsson and His Sons and of the Martyrdom of King Canute the Holy
Hęc ego sacerdotum infimus Ailnothus, Anglorum orbe editus, set Dacię partibus annis numerosis peregrinatus, tibi, rex preclare et martyr preciose, tua exarando gesta dictaui: certaminum tuorum conflictus posterum memorię tradendos composui et pulchrum, ut dicitur, hominem pictor ego fedus depinxi. Monumentum ęre perhennius exegi, quod non fluctuum impetus absorbeat, non flamma uorax absumat, sed ad chaos ultimum usque permaneat et tuę laudis in seculum monimenta retineat.
Tu infelicitati meę apud Ihesum precibus succurre, calamitatibus miserere; angustiarum miserias releua, inbecillitatem sustenta, fragilitatem alleua; crassa criminum caligine circumfusum uirtutum tuarum splendoribus illustra; sarcina admissorum iamiamque sub onusta decidentem sustolle, molibus peccaminum aggrauatum erige; ab euangelicis latronibus saucio ac semiuiuo relicto miserationis opem admitte, cicatricum plagas antidoto intercessionis tuę infuso obducito, uiciorum putredines expurga, ad stabulum diuinę reconciliationis inducito: ut in tabernacula quantulumcumque intromissus ęterna te cum tuis conciuibus inspicere et ad ianuam regni uel ultimus merear assistere.
Et quia de nitido fuscus, de mundo spurcus eloqui sum aggressus, linguę procaci indulge, labiis audacibus ignosce, et Verbo, per quod omnia sunt condita, cunctos fideles reconcilia, cuius maiestatis potentia non desistit in secula. Illi cum patre et coeterno pneumate benedictio, honor, laus et gratiarum actio sempiterno maneat et accrescat tempore! Amen.
These things I, Ælnoth, the least of priests — born in the land of the English but long a pilgrim in the regions of Denmark — have written for you, most noble king and precious martyr. I have composed an account of your struggles to hand down the conflicts of your trials to the memory of future generations; and though I, like a poor painter, may have depicted a beautiful man imperfectly, I have nonetheless raised a monument more lasting than bronze — one that neither the force of waves nor devouring fire shall destroy, but which will endure until the end of all things and preserve the memory of your praise through the ages.
Come then to my aid in my misfortune through your prayers before Jesus; have mercy on my afflictions, relieve the miseries of my distress, support my weakness, and lighten my frailty. Enveloped in the thick darkness of my sins, enlighten me with the splendor of your virtues. Lift me up as I sink beneath the burden of my offenses; raise me when crushed by the weight of my sins. Like the wounded man left half-dead by the robbers of the Gospel, admit me to the help of mercy; heal the wounds of my scars with the balm of your intercession, cleanse the rot of my vices, and lead me into the shelter of divine reconciliation.
So may I, even if only for a little while, be admitted into the eternal dwellings to behold you among your companions and at least stand at the threshold of the kingdom. And since I, dark and impure, have dared to speak of what is bright and holy, pardon the boldness of my tongue and forgive my audacious lips. Reconcile all the faithful to the Word by whom all things were made, whose majestic power does not cease forever.
To him, with the Father and the co-eternal Spirit, be blessing, honor, praise, and thanksgiving, now and for all ages.
Amen.