The Legends of Saint Patrick by Vere, Aubrey de, 1814-1902

These two with Christ, on him, their son in Christ Their mantle fell; and strength to him was given. Long time he toiled alone; then round him flocked Helpers from far. At last, by voice of all He gat the Island's great episcopate, And king-like ruled the region. This is he, Mac Kyle of Uladh, bishop, and Penitent, Saint Patrick's missioner in Manann's Isle, Sinner one time, and, after sinner, Saint World-famous. May his prayer for sinners plead!

SAINT PATRICK AT CASHEL;

OR, THE BAPTISM OF AENGUS.

ARGUMENT.

Saint Patrick goes to Cashel of the Rings to celebrate the Feast of the Annunciation. Aengus, who reigns there, receives him with all honour. He and his people believe, and by Baptism are added unto the Church. Aengus desires to resign his sovereignty, and become a monk. The Saint suffers not this, because he had discovered by two notable signs, both at the baptism of Aengus and before it, that the Prince is of those who are called by God to rule men.

When Patrick now o'er Ulster's forest bound, And Connact, echoing to the western wave, And Leinster, fair with hill-suspended woods, Had raised the cross, and where the deep night ruled, Splendour had sent of everlasting light, Sole peace of warring hearts, to Munster next, Thomond and Desmond, Heber's portion old, He turned; and, fired by love that mocks at rest Pushed on through raging storm the whole night long, Intent to hold the Annunciation Feast At Cashel of the Kings. The royal keep High-seated on its Rock, as morning broke Faced them at last; and at the selfsame hour Aengus, in his father's absence lord, Rising from happy sleep and heaven-sent dreams Went forth on duteous tasks. With sudden start The prince stept back; for, o'er the fortress court Like grove storm-levelled lay the idols huge, False gods and foul that long had awed the land, Prone, without hand of man. O'er-awed he gazed; Then on the air there rang a sound of hymns, And by the eastern gate Saint Patrick stood, The brethren round him. On their shaggy garb Auroral mist, struck by the rising sun, Glittered, that diamond-panoplied they seemed, And as a heavenly vision. At that sight The youth, descending with a wildered joy, Welcomed his guests: and, ere an hour, the streets Sparkled far down like flowering meads in spring, So thronged the folk in holiday attire To see the man far-famed. "Who spurns our gods?" Once they had cried in wrath: but, year by year, Tidings of some deliverance great and strange, Some life more noble, some sublimer hope, Some regal race enthroned beyond the grave, Had reached them from afar. The best believed, Great hearts for whom nor earthly love sufficed Nor earthly fame. The meaner scoffed: yet all Desired the man. Delay had edged their thirst.