Lays of the Highlands and Islands By John Stuart Blackie |
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TAIN:
THE CHAPEL OF SAINT DUTHACH. |
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 | Lays of the Highlands and Islands |  |
139
TAIN: THE CHAPEL OF SAINT DUTHACH.
I sate in the old church yard
Beside the chapel grey,
Where holy Duthach was born and bred,
On a knoll of the sandy bay.
Beside the chapel grey,
Where holy Duthach was born and bred,
On a knoll of the sandy bay.
I sate on the old grey stones
Where the homes of the dead men be,
And a grey mist curtained the rayless sky,
And a grey mist girdled the sea.
Where the homes of the dead men be,
And a grey mist curtained the rayless sky,
And a grey mist girdled the sea.
I sate, and I looked on the old grey town
That looks on the old grey sea,
And thoughts and shapes of the old grey time
Came down, like a dream, on me.
That looks on the old grey sea,
And thoughts and shapes of the old grey time
Came down, like a dream, on me.
And I saw the shrine of the holy man,
And candles burning bright
Around the chest where his body lay,
By day, and eke by night.
And candles burning bright
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By day, and eke by night.
And crowds of low-bent worshippers
Around the sacred rail,
Hard, weathered men, and blooming youths,
And maids with decent veil,
Around the sacred rail,
Hard, weathered men, and blooming youths,
And maids with decent veil,
And knights of iron grasp I saw,
With stout achievement crowned,
Bowing their heads, like drooping flowers,
Upon the hallowed ground:
With stout achievement crowned,
Bowing their heads, like drooping flowers,
Upon the hallowed ground:
And mitred priests, and shaven monks
Belted with hempen rope,
And legates, and proud cardinals
Who served the purple Pope:
Belted with hempen rope,
And legates, and proud cardinals
Who served the purple Pope:
And burghers too, in burly state,
With chain and mace were there,
And many a tattered pilgrim loon
Uncouth with matted hair:
With chain and mace were there,
And many a tattered pilgrim loon
Uncouth with matted hair:
141
And kings, who from palatial halls
A barefoot journey came,
Through Duthach's potent grace to shrive
Their souls from guilty blame.
A barefoot journey came,
Through Duthach's potent grace to shrive
Their souls from guilty blame.
And one I saw—a Caithness man,
Who ran with dusty feet,
In Duthach's holy shrine to claim
The unprofaned retreat,
Who ran with dusty feet,
In Duthach's holy shrine to claim
The unprofaned retreat,
From chase of the red-handed men,
McNeills, a lawless crew,
Who spurned the ban of the holy girth,
And harried, and plundered, and slew,
McNeills, a lawless crew,
Who spurned the ban of the holy girth,
And harried, and plundered, and slew,
And flung their brands on holy roof,
And feared nor priest nor king,
And earned with blood the robbers' wage
On gallows-tree to swing.
And feared nor priest nor king,
And earned with blood the robbers' wage
On gallows-tree to swing.
And I saw:—but while I sate and mused,
And gazed with shaping eye,
The steam-car looming through the fog
Came sharply hissing by.
And gazed with shaping eye,
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Came sharply hissing by.
I hugged my plaid, I grasped my staff,
The air-spun show was fled,
And through the Fen to Bonar brig,
With snorting speed I sped.
The air-spun show was fled,
And through the Fen to Bonar brig,
With snorting speed I sped.
| Lays of the Highlands and Islands | |