Three steadinesses of wise womanhood—­ steady tongue through evil, as through good; A steady chastity, whoso else shall stray; Steady house service, all and every day.

  Three sounds of increase:  kine that low,
  When milk unto their calves they owe;
  The hammer on the anvil’s brow,
  The pleasant swishing of the plough.

  Three sisters false:  I would!  I might!  I may! 
  Three fearful brothers:  Hearken!  Hush! and Stay!

  Three coffers of a depth unknown
  Are his who occupies the throne,
  The Church’s, and the privileged Poet’s own.

  Three glories of a gathering free from strife—­
  Swift hound, proud steed, and beautiful young wife.

  The world’s three laughing-stocks (be warned and wiser!)—­
  An angry man, a jealoused, and a miser.

  Three powers advantaging a Chieftain most
  Are Peace and Justice and an Armed Host.

Lays of the Irish Saints

ST. PATRICK’S BLESSING ON MUNSTER

(From the Early Irish)

  Blessing from the Lord on High
  Over Munster fall and lie;
  To her sons and daughters all
  Choicest blessing still befall;
  Fruitful blessing on the soil
  That supports her faithful toil.

  Blessing full of ruddy health,
  Blessing full of every wealth
  That her borders furnish forth,
  East and west and south and north;
  Blessing from the Lord on High
  Over Munster fall and lie!

  Blessing on her peaks in air,
  Blessing on her flagstones bare,
  Blessing from her ridges flow
  To her grassy glens below! 
  Blessing from the Lord on High
  Over Munster fall and lie!

  As the sands upon her shore
  Underneath her ships, for store,
  Be her hearths, a twinkling host,
  Over mountain, plain and coast;
  Blessings from the Lord on High
  Over Munster fall and lie!

THE BREASTPLATE OF ST. PATRICK

Otherwise called “The Deer’s Cry.”  For St. Patrick sang this hymn when the ambuscades were laid against him by King Leary that he might go to Tara to sow the Faith.  Then it seemed to those lying in ambush that he and his monks were wild deer with a fawn, even Benen (Benignus) following him.

      I invoke, upon my path
      To the King of Ireland’s rath,
        The Almighty Power of the Trinity;
      Through belief in the Threeness,
      Through confession of the Oneness
        Of the Maker’s Eternal Divinity.

  I invoke, on my journey arising,
  The power of Christ’s Birth and Baptizing,
  The powers of the hours of His dread Crucifixion,
    Of His Death and Abode in the Tomb,
  The power of the hour of His glorious Resurrection
    From out the Gehenna of gloom,