The earliest known reference to this manuscript appears in a catalog of miscellanea kept by the Monastery of Saint Aurelius in the late twelfth century. The entry is brief, merely a line noting “a vellum of uncertain hand, concerning the witness of ages.” No further description survives, and the catalog itself is damaged, suggesting that the manuscript may already have been considered anomalous even in that era.
The next trace emerges in the private collection of the antiquarian Matteo di Rinaldi (1482–1549), whose surviving correspondence mentions “a curious folio written in a tongue both familiar and strange.” Rinaldi’s heirs dispersed his library after his death, and the manuscript vanished from record for nearly three centuries.
It resurfaced in 1837 among the effects of an English natural philosopher, Dr. Elias Harrow, who claimed to have acquired it during his travels in the Levant. Harrow made several attempts to translate the text, but his notes reveal more perplexity than progress. He described the voice of the manuscript as “older than its ink” and speculated—perhaps fancifully—that it was “not composed in any age we know.”
Upon Harrow’s death, the manuscript passed to his niece, who donated it to a small academic society devoted to the study of obscure texts. There it remained, largely untouched, until a recent effort to catalog the society’s archives brought it to light again.
The present edition is based on that rediscovered folio. Its vellum leaves are worn but intact; its script is consistent yet bears no resemblance to any known medieval hand. The Latin headings appear original. The poetic sections, though rendered here in modern English, follow the structure and cadence implied by the surviving lines.
Whether the manuscript is the work of a forgotten mystic, a philosophical poet, or, as its own voice suggests, an immortal witness, is left to the reader’s discernment. Its journey through the centuries has been as enigmatic as the consciousness it portrays.

Faded handwritten historical document on aged paper.
This website uses cookies. By continuing to use this site, you accept our use of cookies.