Then suddenly that old man stood,
And made his arms a cross:
Within his heart a light that changed
The earth to dust and dross:
And, pierced by beams from those two hands
Of Jesus crucified,
His Erin of two thousand years
Held forth her hands, and died:
For all her sceptres by a Reed
That hour were overborne;
And all her crowns went down, that hour,
Before the Crown of Thorn.
As shines the sun through snowy haze
Oisin’s white head forth shone:
“In God the Father I believe,”
He sang, “and Mary’s Son:”
And, onward as the swan-chaunt swept
Adown the Creed’s broad flood,
In radiance waxed his face, as though
He saw the face of God.
Then Patrick, with his wondering monks,
Knelt down, and said, “Amen,”
While slowly dropped a sun that ne’er
Saw that white head again.
The rite complete, the old man sank,
And turned him on his side:
Next morning, as the Lauds began,
“My Son,” he said, and died.