EPILOGUE.

At Saul then, by the inland-spreading sea,

There where began my labour, comes the end:

I, blind and witless, willed it otherwise:

God willed it thus. When prescience came of death

I said, “My Resurrection place I choose” -

O fool, for ne'er since boyhood choice was mine

Save choice to subject will of mine to God -

“At great Ardmacha.” Thitherward I turned;

But in my pathway, with forbidding hand,

Victor, God's angel stood. “Not so,” he said,

“For in Ardmacha stands thy princedom fixed,

Age after age, thy teaching, and thy law,

But not thy grave. Return thou to that shore

Thy place of small beginnings, and thereon

Lessen in body and mind, and grow in spirit:

Then sing to God thy little hymn and die.”

Yea, Lord, my mouth would praise Thee ere I die,

The Father, and the Son, and Holy Spirit

Who knittest in His Church the just to Christ:

Help me, my sons — mine orphans soon to be -

Help me to praise Him; ye that round me sit

On those grey rocks; ye that have faithful been,

Honouring, despite dishonour of my sins,

His servant: I would praise Him yet once more,

Though mine the stammerer's voice, or as a child's;

For it is written, “Stammerers shall speak plain

Sounding Thy Gospel.” “They whom Christ hath sent

Are Christ's Epistle, borne to ends of earth,

Writ by His Spirit, and plain to souls elect:”

Lord, am not I of Thine Apostolate?

Yea, by abjection Thine, by suffering Thine!

Till I was humbled I was as a stone

In deep mire sunk. Then, stretched from heaven, Thy hand

Slid under me in might, and lifted me,

And fixed me in Thy Temple where Thou wouldst.

Wonder, ye great ones, wonder, ye the wise!

On me, the last and least, this charge was laid

This crown, that I in humbleness and truth

Should walk this nation's Servant till I die.

Therefore, a youth of sixteen years, or less,

With others of my land by pirates seized

I stood on Erin's shore. Our bonds were just;

Our God we had forsaken, and His Law,

And mocked His priests. Tending a stern man's swine

I trod those Dalaraida hills that face

Eastward to Alba. Six long years went by;

But — sent from God — Memory, and Faith, and Fear

Moved on my spirit as winds upon the sea,

And the Spirit of Prayer came down. Full many a day

Climbing the mountain tops, one hundred times

I flung upon the storm my cry to God.

Nor frost, nor rain might harm me, for His love

Burned in my heart. Through love I made my fast;

And in my fasts one night I heard this voice,

“Thou fastest well: soon shalt thou see thy Land.”

Later, once more thus spake it: “Southward fly,

Thy ship awaits thee.” Many a day I fled,

And found the black ship dropping down the tide,

And entered with those Gentiles by Thy grace

Vanquished, though first they spurned me, and was free.

It was Thy leading, Lord; the Hand was Thine!

For now when, perils past, I walked secure,

Kind greetings round me, and the Christian Rite,

There rose a clamorous yearning in my heart,

And memories of that land so far, so fair,

And lost in such a gloom. And through that gloom

The eyes of little children shone on me,

So ready to believe! Such children oft

Ran by me naked in and out the waves,

Or danced in circles upon Erin's shores,

Like creatures never fallen! Thought of such

Passed into thought of others. From my youth

Both men and women, maidens most, to me

As children seemed; and O the pity then

To mark how oft they wept, how seldom knew

Whence came the wound that galled them! As I walked,

Each wind that passed me whispered, “Lo, that race

Which trod thee down! Requite with good their ill!

Thou know'st their tongue; old man to thee, and youth,

For counsel came, and lambs would lick thy foot;

And now the whole land is a sheep astray

That bleats to God.”

Alone one night I mused,

Burthened with thought of that vocation vast.

O'er-spent I sank asleep. In visions then,

Satan my soul plagued with temptation dire.

Methought, beneath a cliff I lay, and lo!

Thick-legioned demons o'er me dragged a rock,

That falling, seemed a mountain. Near, more near,

O'er me it blackened. Sudden from my heart

This thought leaped forth: “Elias! Him invoke!”

That name invoked, vanished the rock; and I,

On mountains stood watching the rising sun,

As stood Elias once on Carmel's crest,

Gazing on heaven unbarred, and that white cloud,

A thirsting land's salvation.

Might Divine!

Thou taught'st me thus my weakness; and I vowed

To seek Thy strength. I turned my face to Tours,

There where in years gone by Thy soldier-priest

Martin had ruled, my kinsman in the flesh.

Dead was the lion; but his lair was warm:

In it I laid me, and a conquering glow

Rushed up into my heart. I heard discourse

Of Martin still, his valour in the Lord,

His rugged warrior zeal, his passionate love

For Hilary, his vigils, and his fasts,

And all his pitiless warfare on the Powers

Of darkness; and one day, in secrecy,

With Ninian, missioned then to Alba's shore,

I peered into his branch-enwoven cell,

Half-way between the river and the rocks,

From Tours a mile and more.

So passed eight years

Till strengthened was my heart by discipline:

Then spake a priest, “Brother, thy will is good,

Yet rude thou art of learning as a beast;

Fare thee to great Germanus of Auxerres,

Who lightens half the West!” I heard, and went,

And to that Saint was subject fourteen years.

He from my mind removed the veil; “Lift up,”

He said, “thine eyes!” and like a mountain land

The Queenly Science stood before me plain,

From rocky buttress up to peak of snow:

The great Commandments first, Edicts, and Laws

That bastion up man's life: — then high o'er these

The forest huge of Doctrine, one, yet many,

Forth stretching in innumerable aisles,

At the end of each, the self-same glittering star: -

Lastly, the Life God-hidden. Day by day,

With him for guide, that first and second realm

I tracked, and learned to shun the abyss flower-veiled,

And scale heaven-threatening heights. This, too, he taught,

Himself long time a ruler and a prince,

The regimen of States from chaos won

To order, and to Christ. Prudence I learned,

And sageness in the government of men,

By me sore needed soon. O stately man,

In all things great, in action and in thought,

And plain as great! To Britain called, the Saint

Trod down that great Pelagian Blasphemy,

Chief portent of the age. But better far

He loved his cell. There sat he vigil-worn,

In cowl and dusky tunic hued like earth

Whence issued man and unto which returns;

I marvelled at his wrinkled brows, and hands

Still tracing, enter or depart who would,

From morn to night his parchments.

There, once more,

O God, Thine eye was on me, or my hand

Once more had missed the prize. Temptation now

Whispered in softness, “Wisdom's home is here:

Here bide untroubled.” Almost I had fallen;

But, by my side, in visions of the night,

God's angel, Victor, stood as one that hastes,

On travel sped. Unnumbered missives lay

Clasped in his hands. One stretched he forth, inscribed

“The wail of Erin's Children.” As I read

The cry of babes, from Erin's western coast

And Fochlut's forest, and the wintry sea,

Shrilled o'er me, clamouring, “Holy youth, return!

Walk then among us!” I could read no more.

Thenceforth rose up renewed mine old desire:

My kinsfolk mocked me. “What! past woes too scant!

Slave of four masters, and the best a churl!

Thy Gospel they will trample under foot,

And rend thee! Late to them Palladius preached:

They drave him as a leper from their shores.”

I stood in agony of staggering mind

And warring wills. Then, lo! at dead of night

I heard a mystic voice, till then unheard,

I knew not if within me or close by

That swelled in passionate pleading; nor the words

Grasped I, so great they seemed and wonderful,

Till sank that tempest to a whisper: — “He

Who died for thee is He that in thee groans.”

Then fell, methought, scales from mine inner eyes:

Then saw I — terrible that sight, yet sweet -

Within me saw a Man that in me prayed

With groans unutterable. That Man was girt

For mission far. My heart recalled that word,

“The Spirit helpeth our infirmities;

That which we lack we know not, but the Spirit

Himself for us doth intercession make

With groanings which may never be revealed.”

That hour my vow was vowed; and he approved,

My master and my guide. “But go,” he said,

“First to that island in the Tyrrhene Sea,

Where live the high Contemplatives to God:

There learn perfection; there that Inner Life

Win thou, God's strength amid the world's loud storm:

Nor fear lest God should frown on such delay,

For Heavenly Wisdom is compassionate:

Slowly before man's weakness moves it on;

Softly: so moved of old the Wise Men's Star,

Which curbed its lightning ardours and forbore

Honouring the pensive tread of hoary Eld,

Honouring the burthened slave, the camel line

Long-linked, with level head and foot that fell

As though in sleep, printing the silent sands.”

Thus, smiling, spake Germanus, large in lore.

So in that island-Eden I sojourned,

Lerins, and saw where Vincent lived, and his,

Life fountained from on high. That life was Love;

For all their mighty knowledge food became

Of Love Divine, and took, by Love absorbed,

Shape from his flame-like body. Hard their beds;

Ceaseless their prayers. They tilled a sterile soil;

Beneath their hands it blossomed like the rose:

O'er thymy hollows blew the nectared airs;

Blue ocean flashed through olives. They had fled

From praise of men; yet cities far away

Rapt those meek saints to fill the bishop's throne.

I saw the light of God on faces calm

That blended with man's meditative might

Simplicity of childhood, and, with both

The sweetness of that flower-like sex which wears

Through love's Obedience twofold crowns of Love.

O blissful time! In that bright island bloomed

The third high region on the Hills of God,

Above the rock, above the wood, the cloud: -

There laughs the luminous air, there bursts anew

Spring bud in summer on suspended lawns;

There the bell tinkles while once more the lamb

Trips by the sun-fed runnel: there green vales

Lie lost in purple heavens.

Transfigured Life!

This was thy glory, that, without a sigh,

Who loved thee yet could leave thee! Thus it fell:

One morning I was on the sea, and lo!

An isle to Lerins near, but fairer yet,

Till then unseen! A grassy vale sea-lulled

Wound inward, breathing balm, with fruited trees,

And stream through lilies gliding. By a door

There stood a man in prime, and others sat

Not far, some grey; and one, a weed of years,

Lay like a withered wreath. An old man spake:

“See what thou seest, and scan the mystery well!

The man who stands so stately in his prime

Is of this company the eldest born.

The Saviour in His earthly sojourn, Risen,

Perchance, or ere His Passion, who can tell,

Stood up at this man's door; and this man rose,

And let Him in, and made for Him a feast;

And Jesus said,‘ Tarry, till I return.’

Moreover, others are there on this isle,

Both men and maids, who saw the Son of Man,

And took Him in, and shine in endless youth;

But we, the rest, in course of nature fade,

For we believe, yet saw not God, nor touched.”

Then spake I, “Here till death my home I make,

Where Jesus trod.” And answered he in prime,

“Not so; the Master hath for thee thy task.

Parting, thus spake He:‘ Here for Mine Elect

Abide thou. Bid him bear this crozier staff;

My blessing rests thereon: the same shall drive

The foes of God before him.’” Answer thus

I made, “That crozier staff I will not touch

Until I take it from that nail-pierced Hand.”

From these I turned, and clomb a mountain high,

Hermon by name; and there — was this, my God,

In visions of the Lord, or in the flesh? -

I spake with Him, the Lord of Life, Who died;

He from the glory stretched the Hand nail-pierced,

And placed in mine that crozier staff, and said:

“Upon that day when they that with Me walked

Sit with Me on their everlasting Thrones,

Judging the Twelve Tribes of Mine Israel,

Thy People thou shalt judge in righteousness.”

Forthwith to Rome I fled; there knelt I down

Above the bones of Peter and of Paul,

And saw the mitred embassies from far,

And saw Celestine with his head high held

As though it bore the Blessed Sacrament;

Chief Shepherd of the Saviour's flock on earth.

Tall was the man, and swift; white-haired; with eye

Starlike and voice a trumpet clear that pealed

God's Benediction o'er the city and globe;

Yea, and whene'er his palm he lifted, still

Blessing before it ran. Upon my head

He laid both hands, and “Win,” he said, “to Christ

One realm the more!” Moreover, to my charge

Relics he gave, unnumbered, without price;

And when those relics lost had been, and found,

And at his feet I wept, he chided not;

But, smiling, said, “Thy glorious task fulfilled,

House them in thy new country's stateliest church

By cresset girt of ever-burning lamps,

And never-ceasing anthems.”

Northward then

Returned I, missioned. Yet once more, but once,

That old temptation proved me. When they sat,

The Elders, making inquest of my life,

Sudden a certain brother rose, and spake,

“Shall this man be a Bishop, who hath sinned?”

My dearest friend was he. To him alone

One time had I divulged a sin by me

Through ignorance wrought when fifteen years of age;

And after thirty years, behold, once more,

That sin had found me out! He knew my mission:

When in mine absence slander sought my name,

Mine honour he had cleared. Yet now — yet now -

That hour the iron passed into my soul:

Yea, well nigh all was lost. I wept, “Not one,

No heart of man there is that knows my heart,

Or in its anguish shares.”

Yet, O my God!

I blame him not: from Thee that penance came:

Not for man's love should Thine Apostle strive,

Thyself alone his great and sole reward.

Thou laid'st that hour a fiery hand of love

Upon a faithless heart; and it survived.

At dead of night a Vision gave me peace.

Slowly from out the breast of darkness shone

Strange characters, a writing unrevealed:

And slowly thence and infinitely sad,

A Voice: “Ill-pleased, this day have we beheld

The face of the Elect without a name.”

It said not, “Thou hast grieved,” but “We have grieved;”

With import plain, “O thou of little faith!

Am I not nearer to thee than thy friends?

Am I not inlier with thee than thyself?”

Then I remembered, “He that touches you

Doth touch the very apple of mine eye.”

Serene I slept. At morn I rose and ran

Down to the shore, and found a boat, and sailed.

That hour true life's beginning was, O Lord,

Because the work Thou gav'st into my hands

Prospered between them. Yea, and from the work

The Power forth issued. Strength in me was none,

Nor insight, till the occasion: then Thy sword

Flamed in my grasp, and beams were in mine eyes

That showed the way before me, and nought else.

Thou mad'st me know Thy Will. As taper's light

Veers with a wind man feels not, o'er my heart

Hovered thenceforth some Pentecostal flame

That bent before that Will. Thy Truth, not mine,

Lightened this People's mind; Thy Love inflamed

Their hearts; Thy Hope upbore them as on wings.

Valiant that race, and simple, and to them

Not hard the godlike venture of belief:

Conscience was theirs: tortuous too oft in life

Their thoughts, when passionate most, then most were true,

Heart-true. With naked hand firmly they clasped

The naked Truth: in them Belief was Act.

A tribe from Thy far East they called themselves:

Their clans were Patriarch households, rude through war:

Old Pagan Rome had known them not; their Isle

Virgin to Christ had come. Oh how unlike

Her sons to those old Roman Senators,

Scorn of Germanus oft, who breathed the air

Fouled by dead Faiths successively blown out,

Or Grecian sophist with his world of words,

That, knowing all, knew nothing! Praise to Thee,

Lord of the night-time as the day, Who keep'st

Reserved in blind barbaric innocence,

Pure breed, when boastful lights corrupt the wise,

With healthier fruit to bless a later age.

I to that people all things made myself

For Christ's sake, building still that good they lacked

On good already theirs. In courts of kings

I stood: before mine eye their eye went down,

For Thou wert with me. Gentle with the meek,

I suffered not the proud to mock my face:

Thus by the anchors twain of Love and Fear,

Since Love, not perfected, gains strength from Fear,

I bound to thee This nation. Parables

I spake in; parables in act I wrought

Because the people's mind was in the sense.

At Imbher Dea they scoffed Thy word: I raised

Thy staff, and smote with barrenness that flood:

Then learned they that the world was Thine, not ruled

By Sun or Moon, their famed “God-Elements:”

Yea, like Thy Fig-tree cursed, that river banned

Witnessed Thy Love's stern pureness. From the grass

The little three-leaved herb, I stooped and plucked,

And preached the Trinity. Thy Staff I raised,

And bade — not ravening beast — but reptiles foul

Flee to the abyss like that blind herd of old;

Then spake I: “Be not babes, but understand:

Thus in your spirit lift the Cross of Christ:

Banish base lusts; so God shall with you walk

As once with man in Eden.” With like aim

Convents I reared for holy maids, then sought

The marriage feast, and cried, “If God thus draws

Close to Himself those virgin hearts, and yet

Blesses the bridal troth, and infant's font,

How white a thing should be the Christian home!”

Marvelling, they learned what heritage their God

Possessed in them! how wide a realm, how fair.

Lord, save in one thing only, I was weak -

I loved this people with a mother's love,

For their sake sanctified my spirit to thee

In vigil, fast, and meditation long,

On mountain and on moor. Thus, Lord, I wrought,

Trusting that so Thy lineaments divine,

Deeplier upon my spirit graved, might pass

Thence on that hidden burthen which my heart

Still from its substance feeding, with great pangs

Strove to bring forth to Thee. O loyal race!

Me too they loved. They waited me all night

On lonely roads; and, as I preached, the day

To those high listeners seemed a little hour.

Have I not seen ten thousand brows at once

Flash in the broad light of some Truth new risen,

And felt like him, that Saint who cried, flame-girt,

“At last do I begin to be a Christian?”

Have I not seen old foes embrace? Seen him,

That white-haired man who dashed him on the ground,

Crying aloud, “My buried son, forgive!

Thy sire hath touched the hand that shed thy blood?”

Fierce chiefs knelt down in penance! Lord! how oft

Shook I their tear-drop sparkles from my gown!

‘ Twas the forgiveness taught them all the debt,

Great-hearted penitents! How many a youth

Contemned the praise of men! How many a maid -

O not in narrowness, but Love's sweet pride

And love-born shyness — jealous for a mate

Himself not jealous — spurned terrestrial love,

Glorying in heavenly Love's fair oneness! Race

High-dowered! God's Truth seemed some remembered thing

To them; God's Kingdom smiled, their native haunt

Prophesied then their daughters and their sons:

Each man before the face of each upraised

His hand on high, and said, “The Lord hath risen!”

Then, like a stream from ice released, forth fled

And wafted far the tidings, flung them wide,

Shouted them loud from rocky ridge o'er bands

Marching far down to war! The sower sowed

With happier hope; the reaper bending sang,

“Thus shall God's Angels reap the field of God

When we are ripe for heaven.” Lovers new-wed

Drank of that water changed to wine, thenceforth

Breathing on earth heaven's sweetness. Unto such

More late, whate'er of brightness time or will

Infirm had dimmed, shone back from infant brows

By baptism lit. Each age its garland found:

Fair shone on trustful childhood faith divine:

Eld, once a weight of wrinkles now upsoared

In venerable lordship of white hairs,

Seer-like and sage. Healed was a nation's wound:

All men believed who willed not disbelief;

And sat in that oppugnancy steel-mailed:

They cried, “Before thy priests our bards shall bow,

And all our clans put on thy great Clan Christ!”

For your sake, O my brethren, and my sons

These things have I recorded. Something I wrought:

Strive ye in loftier labours; strive, and win:

Your victory shall be mine: my crown are ye.

My part is ended now. I lived for Truth:

I to this people gave that truth I knew;

My witnesses ye are I grudged it not:

Freely did I receive, freely I gave;

Baptising, or confirming, or ordaining,

I sold not things divine. Of mine own store

Ofttimes the hire of fifteen men I paid

For guard where bandits lurked. When prince or chief

Laid on God's altar ring, or torque, or gold,

I sent them back. Too fortunate, too beloved,

I said, “Can he Apostle be who bears

Such scanty marks of Christ's Apostolate,

Hunger, and thirst, and scorn of men?” For this,

Those pains they spared I spared not to myself,

The body's daily death. I make not boast:

What boast have I? If God His servant raised,

He knoweth — not ye — how oft I fell; how low;

How oft in faithless longings yearned my heart

For faces of His Saints in mine own land,

Remembered fields far off. This, too, He knoweth,

How perilous is the path of great attempts,

How oft pride meets us on the storm-vexed height,

Pride, or some sting its scourge. My hope is He:

His hand, my help so long, will loose me never:

And, thanks to God, the sheltering grave is near.

How still this eve! The morn was racked with storm:

‘ Tis past; the skylark sings; the tide at flood

Sighs a soft joy: alone those lines of weed

Report the wrath foregone. Yon watery plain

Far shines, a mingled sea of glass and fire,

Even as that Beatific Sea outspread

Before the Throne of God.‘ Tis Paschal Tide; -

O sorrowful, O blissful Paschal Tide!

Fain would I die on Holy Saturday;

For then, as now, the storm is past — the woe;

And, somewhere‘ mid the shades of Olivet

Lies sealed the sacred cave of that Repose

Watched by the Holy Women. Earth, that sing'st,

Since first He made thee, thy Creator's praise,

Sing, sing, thy Saviour's! Myriad-minded sea,

How that bright secret thrills thy rippling lips

Which shake, yet speak not! Thou that mad'st the worlds,

Man, too, Thou mad'st; within Thy Hands the life

Of each was shapen, and new-wov'n ran out,

New-willed each moment. What makes up that life?

Love infinite, and nothing else save love!

Help ere need came, deliverance ere defeat;

At every step an angel to sustain us,

An angel to retrieve! My years are gone:

Sweet were they with a sweetness felt but half

Till now;— not half discerned. Those blessed years

I would re-live, deferring thus so long

The Vision of Thy Face, if thus with gaze

Cast backward I might SEE that guiding hand

Step after step, and kiss it.

Happy isle!

Be true; for God hath graved on thee His Name:

God, with a wondrous ring, hath wedded thee;

God on a throne divine hath‘ stablished thee: -

Light of a darkling world! Lamp of the North!

My race, my realm, my great inheritance,

To lesser nations leave inferior crowns;

Speak ye the thing that is; be just, be kind;

Live ye God's Truth, and in its strength be free!

This day to Him, the Faithful and the True,

For Whom I toiled, my spirit I commend.

That which I am, He knoweth: I know not now:

But I shall know ere long. If I have loved Him

I seek but this for guerdon of my love

With holier love to love Him to the end:

If I have vanquished others to His love

Would God that this might be their meed and mine

In witness for His love to pour our blood

A glad stream forth, though vultures or wild beasts

Rent our unburied bones! Thou setting sun,

That sink'st to rise, that time shall come at last

When in thy splendours thou shalt rise no more;

And, darkening with the darkening of thy face,

Who worshipped thee with thee shall cease; but those

Who worshipped Christ shall shine with Christ abroad,

Eternal beam, and Sun of Righteousness,

In endless glory. For His sake alone

I, bondsman in this land, re-sought this land.

All ye who name my name in later times,

Say to this People, since vindictive rage

Tempts them too often, that their Patriarch gave

Pattern of pardon ere in words he preached

That God who pardons. Wrongs if they endure

In after years, with fire of pardoning love

Sin-slaying, bid them crown the head that erred:

For bread denied let them give Sacraments,

For darkness light, and for the House of Bondage

The glorious freedom of the sons of God:

This is my last Confession ere I die.