"We are only poor pilgrims from Scotia, and I do not wish to be your bishop; for I am not at all fit for it, hardly even knowing your language or your customs."
But the more he entreated the more [vehemently] did they insist: so that at last he consented to take the bishop's chair. This was in or about the year 824.
We need not follow the life of St. Donatus further here. It is enough to say that, notwithstanding all his fears and his deep humility, he became a great and successful pastor and missionary. For about thirty-seven years he laboured among the people of Fiesole, by whom he was greatly loved and [revered]. Down to the day of his death, which happened about 861, when he was a very old man, he was attended by his affectionate friend Andrew. He is to this day honoured in and around Fiesole, as an illustrious saint of those times. His tomb is still shown and regarded with much veneration: and in the old town there are several other memorials of him.
Like St. Columkille, Donatus always cherished a tender regretful love for Ireland; and like him also he wrote a short poem in praise of it which is still preserved. It is in Latin, and the following is a translation, made by a Dublin poet many years ago:—
Far westward lies an isle of ancient fame,
By nature bless'd; and Scotia is her name,
Enroll'd in books[55]: exhaustless is her store,
Of veiny silver, and of golden ore.[56]
Her fruitful soil, for ever teems with wealth,
With gems[57] her waters, and her air with health;
Her verdant fields with milk and honey flow;[58]
Her woolly fleeces[59] vie with virgin snow;
Her waving furrows float with bearded corn;
And arms and arts her [envied] sons adorn![60]
No savage bear, with lawless fury roves,
Nor fiercer lion, through her peaceful groves;
No poison there infects, no scaly snake
Creeps through the grass, nor frog annoys the lake;[61]
An island worthy of its pious race,
In war [triumphant], and unmatch'd in peace!
XL.
HOW IRELAND WAS INVADED BY DANES AND ANGLO-NORMANS.
From the time of the settlement of the Milesians, as described at page [3], Ireland was ruled by native kings, without any disturbance from outside, till the arrival of the invaders we are now about to speak of.
During all these centuries, though there were troubles enough from the quarrels of the kings and chiefs, learning and art, as we have seen, were [successfully cultivated]. But a change came—a woful change—once the Danes began to arrive. These were [pirates], all pagans, from Denmark and other countries round the Baltic Sea, brave and daring, but very wicked and cruel, who for a long period kept, not only Ireland, but the whole of western Europe in terror. They appeared for the first time on the coast of Ireland in the year 795, when they plundered St. Columkille's monastery on Lambay Island near Dublin. After this, for more than two hundred years, the country was never free from them, and they plundered and burned and destroyed churches, monasteries, libraries, and homesteads, and killed all that fell in their way, men, women, and children. They were often attacked and routed by the native chiefs; but this did not much discourage them and they generally landed so suddenly, and marched through the country so swiftly, that in most cases they got clear off to their ships, with all their plunder, before the people could overtake them. They settled [permanently] in various towns on the coast, especially Dublin, Waterford, and Limerick, which they held for a long time.