His life, according to James of Voragine.
Sequence by Adam of St. Victor:
Laudemus omnes inclyta
Bartolomaei merita:
Cujus sacra solemnia
Nobis inspirant gaudia.
Per diem centum vicibus
Flexis orabat genibus,
Nec minus noctis tempore,
Toto prostratus corpore.
In ipsius praesentia
Obmutescunt daemonia;
Christi sonante buccina,
Falsa terrentur numina.
Non Astaroth illudere
Genti permisit miserae;
Nec fallere, nec laedere,
Nec laesis potest parcere.
Gravi dignus supplicio
Cruciatur incendio;
Quanta fit ejus tortio
Berith patet indicio.
Per virtutes Apostoli
Patescit fraus diaboli.
Arte detecta subdoli,
Cultores cessant idoli.
Liber exultat Pseustius,
Hostis repressa rabie,
Credit et rex Polymnius,
Propter salutem filiae.
Percussus as Apostolo
Daemon mugit ex idolo:
"A vobis ultra, miseri,
Sacra non posco fieri.
"Me jam nil posse fateor,
Qui vix respirans torqueor;
Ante diem judicii
Poenam ferens incendii."
Sic effatus disparuit
Et sigilla comminuit;
Sed nec praesentes terruit,
Nam virtus crucis affuit.
Christi signat charatere
Fanum manus angelica:
Laesos absolvit libere
Potestate mirifica.
Mox pellem mutat India,
Tincta baptismi gratia;
Ruga carens et macula,
Coelesti gaudet copula.
Currunt ergo pontifices
Ad Astyagem supplices,
Athletam jam emeritum
Poscentes ad interitum.
Sub Christi testimonio,
Caput objecit gladio;
Sic triumphavit hodie
Doctor et victor Indiae.
Bartolomaee, postula
Pro servis prece sedula,
Ut post vitae curricula
Christum laudent in saecula. Amen.
Englished by Digby S. Wrangham:
Bartholomew's rare merits show,
Whose sacred feast-day here below
Makes all our hearts with gladness glow.
He used an hundred times a day
Upon his bended knees to pray;
Nor through the hours of night did he,
Laid prostrate, pray less frequently.
Wherever he was present here
The very devils dumb appear;
When he, Christ's trumpet, soundeth clear,
False gods and idols quake for fear.
He would not Ashtaroth allow
With lies an hapless race to cow:
Nor cheat, not hurt, them can he now,
Nor pity for his victims show.
He, worthy of grave punishment,
To writhe 'mid fires of hell is sent;
Where by what torments he is rent
From Berith's tale is evident.
Through this Apostle's might alone
The devil's fraud is fully shown;
And, when his cunning craft is known,
No followers more the idol own.
Pseustius exulted, when relieved
From demon's rage, held 'neath control:
And king Polymnius believed,
Because his daughter was made whole.
As 'neath the Apostle's stroke he lies,
The demon from the idol cries;
"From you, my wretched votaries!
I ask no further sacrifice.
"Powerless I am, I now declare,
Who scarce can breathe in torture here;
Before the judgment-day appear,
The punishment by fire I bear!"
He disappeared, as thus he spake,
And his own idol-image brake;
But made none present fear nor quake:
The Cross was there his place to take.
With Christ's own mark, the Cross's sign,
An angel's fingers mark the fane,
And thence, through wondrous power divine,
The vexed free absolution gain.
While through baptismal grace we see
India, so dark-hued formerly;
Without a spot, from wrinkle free,
Thus joined to heaven it joys to be.
Their high-priests to Astyages
Then hasten, and, upon their knees,
Demans that he at once will slay
The champion, victor in the fray.
To witness thus for Christ his Lord,
His head he bowed beneath the sword;
So he this day, as victor, shone,
Who India taught and India won.
In constant prayer God's throne before,
For us, Bartholomew! implore,
That we, when this life's course is o'er,
May sing Christ's praise for evermore! Amen.