“Where Seventy Kings Assembled…”

Where Seventy Kings Assembled…” — Anonymous Seventy kings assembled in the place of the altar; how you stood, George, in the faith of Christ, in the hymn. And as you were also in asceticism for years in endurance, as I may write concerning your punishment and your torment, a hidden counsel of repentance give me understanding. The toil of his name, holy, when it saddened your heart; in the whole of the garment, even to the covering that conceals. Christ, O George, when you stood in his faith, the grace of your youth when he beheld and the beauty of your face, a wonder and a marvel it became to the king. The faith of the fathers, your orthodoxy, when you became its herald; in the unity of being and the Trinity of persons. George, when the field of slaughter and sacrifice they flayed you and they raised you up, the wild beast Dadianos, like a lamb without a shepherd. You stood naked in a pit of beasts, and your scourging with ten; the head of sorrow it is, and the beginning of lamentation. A grievous torment, George, in the furnace of pain, swift; when the living Lord comes in his glory, the avenger and the seeker of your blood, red.

With Fiqṭor and ʿAbādir and Marqorewos Philopater, and with all your brothers, the beloved martyrs of Christ. George, go to your honored feast, while you go forth between heaven and earth on your horse that moves like the sea. I have entrusted you, George, with the gift of my prayer. I have offered to you, by the number of your torments, seventy. What the eye has not seen and what the ear of the flesh has not heard, what is far and what is near without a man who has taken the Book of Light, grant me and what is hidden. Salutation to you, your holy bones, because of the torment of the whip. Your flesh withered on Mount Yedras, which the wind scattered. Salutation to you, the wood of fasting and suffering, until the ascetic practices honored you, like the law of fish, fresh and boiled in fire. Salutation to you, your wondrous act and your bitter torment, like the hair of grass, tall and covering the earth, a scattering of leaves above the mountain. Salutation to you, the torment of breaking, and the trampling of the horse’s hoof. You did not abandon your love for Christ, George, man of understanding.