Melodious are her clerics, melodious Erin’s birds are,
    Gentle her youths’ words are, her seniors discreet;
  Famed far her chieftains—­goodlier are no men—­
    Very fair her women for espousal sweet.

  ’Tis within the West sweet Brendan is residing,
    There Colum MacCriffan is indeed abiding now;
  And ’tis unto the West ruddy Baithir is repairing
    And Adamnan shall be faring to perform his vow.

  Salute them courteously, salute them all and single,
    After them Comgall, Eternity’s true heir,
  Then to the stately Monarch of fair Navan
    Up from the haven my greeting greatly bear.

  My blessing, fair youth, and my full benediction
    Without one restriction be bearing to-day—­
  One half above Erin, one half seven times over,
    And one half above Alba to hover for aye.

  Carry to Erin that full load of blessing,
    For sorrow distressing my heart’s pulses fail,
  If Death overtake me, the whole truth be spoken! 
    My heart it was broken by great love for the Gael.

  “Gael, Gael,” at that dear word’s repeating,
    Again with glad beating my heart takes my breast. 
  Beloved is Cummin of the tresses most beauteous,
    And Cainnech the duteous and Comgall the Blest.

  Were all of Alba mine now to enter,
    Mine from the centre and through to the sea;
  I would rather possess in deep-leaved Derry
    The home that was very very dear to me.

  To Derry my love is ever awarded,
    For her lawns smooth-swarded, her pure clear wells,
  And the hosts of angels that hover and hover
    Over and over her oak-set dells.

  Indeed and indeed for these joys I love her,
    Pure air is above her, smooth turf below;
  While evermore over each oak-bough leafy
    A beautiful bevy of angels go.

  My Derry, my little oak grove of Erin! 
    My dwelling was therein, my small dear cell. 
  Strike him, O Living God out of Heaven,
    With Thy red Levin who works them ill.

  Beloved shall Derry and Durrow endure,
    Beloved Raphoe of the pure clear well,
  Beloved Drumhome with its sweet acorn showers,
    Beloved the towers of Swords and Kells!

  Beloved too at my heart as any
    Art thou Drumcliffe on Culcinne’s strand,
  And over Loch Foyle—­’tis delight to be gazing—­
    So shapely are her shores on either hand.

  Delightful indeed, is the purple sea’s glamour,
    Where sea-gulls clamour in white-winged flight,
  As you view it afar from Derry beloved,
    O the peace of it, the peace and delight!

ST. COLUMBA IN IONA

(From an Irish Manuscript in the Burgundian Library, Brussels)