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THE SIXTH DUAN. THE COMING OF THE FAITH.

A changing song is my song,
Of songs most wondrous,
The song of the doom of the Children of Lir.

1

So did the Swans fly back from the ruined halls of Lir
To the wild western sea, and, veering southward, came
To Inis Glory of Brendan; and there they made their home,
Waiting in patient peace the coming of the Faith.

2

And all the tribes of birds were gathered to them there,
And with sweet fairy singing there in the Lake of Birds
They taught the airy tribes, and comforted their woes;
Till, as the seals, they loved the singing of the Swans.
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3

Far was their flight by day; along the wild west coast
They roamed to feed, as far as Achill, and at night
Flew back to Inis Glory; and wheresoe'er they moved
Thick waved the following wings of loving flocks of birds.

4

And there they dwelt in peace till the coming of the Faith,
Till holy Patrick's feet blest Erin's faithless fields;
And then to Inis Glory a priest came, sent of God,
He dreamed not for what end, but came there sent of God.

5

That priest was Mocholm Ogue; and sorrowful of heart
He came to Inis Glory, and there six days he toiled,
No man to help, and built, serving the Lord, a church;
And resting the seventh day, he hallowed it to Christ.

6

Marvellous was his work; for great strength in his hands
God put; and there by night, no shelter for his head,
But sheltering as he might the Church's holy things,
He laid him down to sleep, wet with the rain and the dew.

7

And like the birds he lived, no better than the birds.
Toiling, yet keeping still matins, and nones, and primes.
Then by God's finished house he built himself a hut,
Where like the birds he lived, no better than the birds.
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8

Yet heavy was his mood; questioning God he thought:
‘Why am I wasted, thus; from the world's throbbing heart
Aloof, in peaceless peace, God's battles at my back?
Shall I feed the fish with praise, birds with the bread of God?’

9

But steadfast in his deeds, not scanting prayer nor praise,
He toiled; and the seventh day, in blessed bread and wine,
Christ came to win the West. That grace the sacring bell
To wondering land and sea proclaimed with silver sound.

10

The sad Swans heard, far, faint, from some dim alien world,
The bell's mysterious tone; and on the brothers three
Strange terror fell, and wild they dashed through the clear waves,
Till, at Fianoula's call, they waited on her word.

11

‘What ails you thus to fly?’ she said. ‘What have ye heard?’
And they: ‘We know not what—a faint and fearful voice
Thrills in the shuddering air!’ ‘That is God's bell,’ said she,
‘The bell that brings us ease. Blest be the name of God!’

FIANOULA'S SONG OF DELIVERANCE.

1

Hark to the Cleric's bell,
Ye sorrowful Swans of Lir!
Give thanks to God for its voice
Calling your souls to rest.
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2

Lift up your hearts in gladness,
Ye sorrowful Swans of Lir!
On the wings of the wind your wings
Lift up to the gates of heaven!

3

Hark to the Cleric's bell,
Ye comely Children of Lir!
Redeemed from the scorn of tempests,
And the fury of the rocks.

4

Redeemed from the terror of life,
And icy deserts of death,
Redeemed from earth's enchantment,
Turn to the Cleric's bell!

12

Then on their sounding wings the Swans their latest flight
Took from the unresting sea, to find the rest of God;
And on the Lake of Birds they lit, and through the night
Praised with sweet fairy music the great God of heaven.

13

Afar heard Mocholm Ogue the singing of the Swans,
And trembled for strange awe, and wondering prayed that God
Would show him what wild things those were that praised His name.
And it was shown him straight: ‘These are the Swans of Lir.’

14

Then glad was Mocholm Ogue, and penitential tears
Wept before God, and cried: ‘A sinful man, O Lord!
Not worthy of this grace, am I, that unto me
Thou hast sent these prisoned souls to loose from their long woe.’
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15

With dawn he rose, and ran, and standing by the lake,
Called through the mists of morn: ‘Are ye the Swans of Lir?’
The Swans heard him, and came, and wept beside the shore:
‘Waiting release we live, the charmed Children of Lir.’

16

‘Blessed be God!’ said he. ‘For this God sent me hither,
To save you out of sin. Put all your trust in God.’
He kissed the weeping Swans, and took them to his place,
And there they dwelt with him, four weary things at rest.

17

Hearing the mass they dwelt, and there with Mocholm Ogue
Kept the canonical hours. And great content and joy
The Cleric had of them, his heart soared at their song;
And trouble dashed no more the spirit of the Swans.
This is the song of the coming of the Faith,
Of songs most wondrous,
A changed song is my song.
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