O Ara, darling of the West,
Ne'er be he blest who loves not thee!
O God, cut short her foeman's breath,
Let hell and death his portion be.
O Ara, darling of the West,
Ne'er be he blest who loves not thee,
Herdless and childless may he go,
In endless woe his doom to dree.
O Ara, darling of the West,
Ne'er be he blest who loves thee not,
When angels wing from heaven on high,
And leave the sky for this dear spot.
Douglas Hyde.
[ST. COLUMBA IN IONA]
From an Irish MS. in the Burgundian Library, Brussels.
Delightful would it be to me
On a pinnacle of rock,
That I might often see
The face of the ocean;
That I might watch its heaving waves
Over the wide sea
When they chant music to their Father
Upon the world's course;
That I might see its level sparkling strand,
It would be no cause of sorrow;
That I might hear the song of the wonderful birds,
Source of happiness;
That I might hear the thunder of the clamorous waves
Upon the rocks;
That I might hear the roar by the side of the church
Of the surrounding sea;
That I might watch its noble bird-flocks
Flying over the watery surf;
That I might see the ocean-monsters,
Greatest of all wonders;
That I might observe its ebb and flood
In their cycles;
That my mystical name might be, i'faith,
"Cul ri Erin."
That on my heart contrition might fall
On looking upon her;
That I might bewail my evils all,
Though it were not easy to number them;
That I might bless the Lord
Who orders all;
Heaven with its countless bright orders
Land, strand and flood;
That I might search in all the books
That which would help my soul;
At times kneeling to the Heaven of my heart,
At times singing psalms;
At times meditating on the King of Heaven,
Chief of the Holy Ones;
At times at work without compulsion
This would be delightful.
At times plucking duilisc from the rocks;
At other times fishing;
At times distributing food to the poor,
At times in a hermitage;
The best guidance from the presence of God
Has been vouchsafed to me;
The King whom I serve will keep from me
All things that would deceive me.