We had arranged to visit with our hosts of yesterday another of the "most ancient" and still inhabited castles of this section, but fearing a change to rain in the weather we give that up and roll off to the south-west, until finally we reach a fair green valley through whose grasses and beneath whose bending trees lazily rolls the river Suir, a river just wide enough to suit one's fancy, full of fish and water lilies, and by whose banks, amidst a thick grove of stately trees, the ancient Abbey of the Holy Cross rears its grey walls and delicate traceries.
Photo by W. Leonard
The Cross of Cashel and Throne of the Kings of Munster
Rock of Cashel
Holy Cross is one of the finest ruins in all Ireland, and was evidently an abbey of great wealth and importance. Truly those monks of old knew where to build and when they brought the relic of the Cross bestowed by Pope Pascal II. in 1110 to this spot and erected its shrine, they made no mistake. It is not difficult to restore in the mind's eye the ancient structure to what it once was, or to repeople it with the forms and faces of ancient days. Yonder door in the outer wall must often have given egress to the fat white-robed abbot and his jolly crowd of monks, come out to inspect the baskets of fish and other good things brought by the people who crowded around them. There were also hampers of fruit and vegetables, and other things which looked strangely like casks of wine. Back of all rose the stately abbey, while the river flowed onward waving its lilies and grasses, and the soft air was full of the sound of sacred bells and murmuring waters.
To-day we face a stately ruin and there is no sound of bells or sight of abbot, only the river still murmurs amongst its lilies, but Holy Cross is as beautiful in her ruin as she could ever have been in the days of her splendour.