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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
ST. COLUMBA'S FAREWELL TO THE ISLE OF ARRAN ON SETTING SAIL FOR IONA.
Farewell to Arran Isle,
farewell!
I steer for Hy: my heart is sore:—
The breakers burst, the billows swell
'Twixt Arran Isle and Alba's shore.
I steer for Hy: my heart is sore:—
The breakers burst, the billows swell
'Twixt Arran Isle and Alba's shore.
Thus spake the Son of God, ‘Depart!—
O Arran Isle, God's will be done!
By Angels thronged this hour thou art:
I sit within my bark alone.
O Arran Isle, God's will be done!
By Angels thronged this hour thou art:
I sit within my bark alone.
O Modan, well for thee the while!
Fair falls thy lot, and well art thou!
Thy seat is set in Arran Isle:
Eastward to Alba turns my prow.
Fair falls thy lot, and well art thou!
Thy seat is set in Arran Isle:
Eastward to Alba turns my prow.
400
O Arran, Sun of all the West!
My heart is thine! As sweet to close
Our dying eyes in thee as rest
Where Peter and where Paul repose.
My heart is thine! As sweet to close
Our dying eyes in thee as rest
Where Peter and where Paul repose.
O Arran, Sun of all the West!
My heart in thee its grave hath found:
He walks in regions of the blest
The man that hears thy church-bells sound.
My heart in thee its grave hath found:
He walks in regions of the blest
The man that hears thy church-bells sound.
O Arran blest, O Arran blest!
Accursed the man that loves not thee!
The dead man cradled in thy breast—
No demon scares him: well is he.
Accursed the man that loves not thee!
The dead man cradled in thy breast—
No demon scares him: well is he.
Each Sunday Gabriel from on high,
For so did Christ our Lord ordain,
Thy Masses comes to sanctify:
With fifty angels in his train
For so did Christ our Lord ordain,
Thy Masses comes to sanctify:
With fifty angels in his train
Each Monday Michael issues forth
To bless anew each sacred fane:
Each Tuesday cometh Raphael
To bless pure hearth and golden grain.
To bless anew each sacred fane:
Each Tuesday cometh Raphael
To bless pure hearth and golden grain.
Each Wednesday cometh Uriel,
Each Thursday Sariel, fresh from God;
Each Friday cometh Ramael
To bless thy stones and bless thy sod.
Each Thursday Sariel, fresh from God;
Each Friday cometh Ramael
To bless thy stones and bless thy sod.
Each Saturday comes Mary,
Comes Babe on arm, 'mid heavenly hosts:
O Arran, near to heaven is he
That hears God's Angels bless thy coasts!
Comes Babe on arm, 'mid heavenly hosts:
O Arran, near to heaven is he
That hears God's Angels bless thy coasts!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |