.^^ 
 
 ^-'f-?- 
 
 >^
 
 The person charging this material is re- 
 sponsible for its return on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 Theft, mutilation and underlining of books 
 are reasons for disciplinary action and may 
 result in dismissal from the University. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
 
 L I E) RAFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLR.5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 R295S 
 v.l
 
 SAINT PATRICK: 
 
 A NATIONAL TALE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 jTift!) Centurg. 
 
 BY AN ANTIQUARY. 
 
 What cracker is this same, that deafs our ears 
 With this abundance of superfluous breath ? 
 
 Croak not, black angel, I have no food for thee. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 PRINTED FOR 
 
 ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO. EDINBURGH ; 
 
 LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 AND HURST, ROBINSON, AND COMPANY, LONDON. 
 
 1819.
 
 THE 
 
 AUTHOR'S 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. 
 
 To he read cither before or after the Tale, or not at all, 
 as the Reader may incline. 
 
 Neque enim Aonium nemus Advena lustrO. 
 
 Statius, a chill. 1. 9. 
 
 I am not unto you as a stranger and sdjourncr in the 
 iand. Apockypha. 
 
 In a tour through one of the wildest pai'ts 
 ^of Ireland, for the purpose of examining the 
 ^iiiined remains of former ages, I chanced to 
 ilose my way among the mountains ; and, while 
 ^ was anxiously climbing one eminence after 
 >:^i another, to discover, if possible, some known 
 :t object to direct me, the night came on and 
 
 VOL. I. a
 
 ii THE author's 
 
 threw me into a state of the most distressing 
 perplexity. About noon, I had been fortu- 
 nate enough to fall in with a stone pillar, 
 bearing an inscription in the old Irish charac- 
 ter, and I was so intent upon taking a correct 
 copy of it, that the sun was near to setting 
 before I had completed my task. So rejoiced 
 was I at the possession of this treasure, in- 
 deed, that I walked on at a great pace, as a 
 person will do when his spirits are up, with- 
 out taking much thought about any thing ex- 
 cept what had given me joy. And the hills 
 and glens were so much alike in appearance, 
 that my mind was too much taken up with 
 my inscription to suffer me to distinguish one 
 from another. 
 
 As the night darkened, it came on to i-ain, 
 which both increased the darkness, and added 
 to the discomfort of remaining till morning 
 in so wild and shelterless a place. Such, how- 
 ever, seemed to be my lot ; for to wander on 
 might bring me into greater perils, without 
 much chance of finding a shieling or a cabin
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. Ill 
 
 after all. I began, therefore, to look about 
 for the most sheltered spot which the place 
 afforded, and at length I discovered a rock 
 jutting over a small mountain stream, and so 
 worn away below, that there was room enough 
 for me between its base and the water of the 
 brook. Under this rough canopy I sat down, 
 not in the best humour, as you may well ima- 
 gine, though I was possessed of the valuable 
 inscription which had cost me so much trouble ; 
 and I listened with gloomy dejection to the 
 fall of the rain, and the melancholy sound of 
 the wind as it passed thi'ough the dark and 
 solitary glen. 
 
 Damp and cold as this rocky sheltei' was, 
 it was comfoitable, compared with the bare 
 side of the hill where I had been exposed to 
 the drenching rain ; yet even this comfort I 
 was not suffered long to enjoy without alarm. 
 "WTiile I listened to the roar of the blast, it 
 became louder and stronger, and the rain fell 
 in heavier torrents ; and, what was more a- 
 lamiing, I fancied I heard the sound of the
 
 IV 
 
 waters of the brook increasing In loudness ^s 
 it fell over the rocks farther up the glen. It 
 might be only fancy, but, situated as I was, 
 in the very sweep of the torrent if it should 
 swell, and without any means of escape, the 
 fancy was enough to fill me with terror, and 
 I expected every instant to be hurled along 
 with the rushing flood. This apprehension 
 of immediate destruction forced me out again 
 into the storm. I clambered up the steep 
 bank of the stream, and began to search for 
 some other shelter, where I might be safe, at 
 least, from its waters, should they overflow 
 their channel. I wandered, however, a long 
 time without success, and was beginning to 
 despair of finding a single rock or bush to 
 ward off the rain which drenched me. 
 
 I paused at every step, and looked cautious- 
 ly at the dark outlines of the ground, lest I 
 might stumble over some unseen precipice in- 
 to the torrent, which I heard brawling over 
 its channel far below me. In one of those 
 pauses I thought I heard a human voice ming-
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. V 
 
 ling with the noise of the waters. I listened 
 more attentively. Perhaps, said I, some be- 
 nighted wanderer, like myself, who may have 
 fallen into the torrent, for the voice had the 
 tone of supplication as if praying to heaven for 
 aid. It came evidently up the steep below 
 the brow where I was standing, but it was so 
 dark that 1 could not be certain whether that 
 steep were a precipice or a continuation of the 
 green slope of the hill. 
 
 I resolved, however, to venture down, care- 
 fully feeling every foot of my way, that I 
 might aid, if possible, a person wlio seemed 
 still more unfortunate than myself. As I 
 descended the voice became more distinct, and 
 was plainly the voice of prayer. But you may 
 imagine my surprise when I saw a stream of 
 light glancing through the rain, and spread- 
 ing like a fan in the dark air. I soon traced 
 it to a chink in the face of a low-browed rock, 
 in front of which 1 now found myself. The 
 voice came from within. On advancing, I 
 came upon a small nan-ow door, through a rift, 
 in which i saw a venerable old man, with hair
 
 VI 
 
 us white as snow, kneeling before a crucifix, 
 and repeating his Pater noster in a tone of 
 humble piety. 
 
 The incident was so singular and romantic, 
 that I stood fixed to the spot in wonder. I 
 Was unwilling to break in upon the good man's 
 devotions \ but the fury of the storm was in- 
 creasing rather than abating, and I dared to 
 knock. It did not discompose him. He 
 iinished his prayer, and rising, he approach- 
 ed slowly to the door, and gave me a welcome 
 admission. After I had warmed myself at 
 his comfortable fire, and partaken of his sim- 
 i^le cheer, I ventured to ask him how he had 
 taken up his abode in a place so remote and 
 wild, when the infinnities of age required the 
 assistance of friends or relations, 
 
 " God is my friend," he replied ; " I trust 
 in him, and he never forsakes those who wor- 
 ship him with a humble heart." 
 
 I found, on conversing farther with him, 
 that he was a Catholic Recluse, who had vow- 
 ed to spend the remainder of his life in the
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. Vll 
 
 cave where 1 bad discovered him. I was glad 
 to find so true a specimen of the ancient Chris- 
 tian hermits, though I grieved to think that 
 our holy religion should be twisted to counte- 
 nance so wild a whim as retreat from human 
 society certainly is. I entered eagerly into 
 conversation with the venerable man, and, as 
 our pursuits always tinge our thoughts, it was 
 not long till I got him deep in the subject of 
 Irish Antiquities, and particularly those con- 
 nected witli the first preaching of the gospel, 
 and the abolition of the old religion of the 
 Druids. On this topic the Recluse was much 
 at home, for he had studied it keenly in his 
 y<)unger years, and had even made a journey 
 to Tours in France, — where Martin, the uncle 
 of Saint Patrick, had been bishop in the fourth 
 centuiy, — to examine the records of the reli- 
 gious there, for documents relating to the 
 great Apostle of Ireland. His skill in the 
 Celtic tongue also gave him a great superiori- 
 ty over a mere English scholar, in examining 
 tlie few manuscripts which are still preserved:
 
 viii THE author's 
 
 in cabinets. In short, he was better acquaint- 
 ed with the early history of the Irish church 
 than perhaps any other person at that moment 
 living. 
 
 I quickly forgot my valuable inscription, 
 when I perceived that I could obtain more 
 knowledge of my country's antiquities from 
 the hermit, than from a thousand mutilated 
 inscriptions. I resolved to profit as much as 
 possible by my singular discovery, and next 
 morning I requested peniiission to remain 
 with him a few days to indulge my taste for 
 the information he liberally gave me. My 
 request was granted ; for he was no less 
 anxious than myself that some written record 
 should be transmitted to after times, of facts 
 which would otherwise perish with him, as he 
 had never liked the exercise of writing, and 
 had trusted chiefly to his memoi7, when mak- 
 ing his researches. 
 
 In the task of writing, I laboured inces- 
 santly night and day for a considerable time, 
 scarcely allowing myself the refreshment of
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. iX 
 
 sleep, so eager was I to record all that he com- 
 municated of these early and obscure ages. I 
 soon found that I was in possession of a large 
 sheaf of valuable notes, which only required 
 arrangement and comiection to exhibit as 
 faithful an account of the first Christian mis- 
 sions, as it is now possible at this distance of 
 time to obtain. But his information was by 
 no means confined to the dry facts of ecclesi- 
 astical history ; for he often launched out into 
 interesting accounts of the manners and cere- 
 monies of the Druids, and even enlivened his 
 details with domestic stories of love and friend- 
 ship. Like the old minstrel's romances, 
 
 Some beth of war and some of woe. 
 And some of joy and mirth also. 
 And some of treachery and guile 
 Of old adventures that fell while, 
 And of all things that men seth, 
 Also of love forsooth there beth. 
 
 Transl. of Lai le Fraine, 
 
 He was not, indeed, like Anthony-a-Wood, 
 
 whose antique habits made him hate woman- 
 a 2
 
 X' THE author's 
 
 kind, for he dwelt with pleasure on love ad- 
 ventures ; and though he had conforaied to 
 the celibacy enjoined by the Catholics of more 
 modern times, he was too well skilled in Chris- 
 tian antiquities to acquiesce in the unnatural 
 doctrine, and expressed a just indignation of 
 Origen, who carried the matter so far as to 
 mutilate himself for conscience' sake. * Old 
 as the recluse was, he did not belong to that 
 class of antiquaries, who, according to Foote, 
 cared not for a Venus ** unless she had her 
 nose broken or a gash in her cheek ;" nor to 
 those whom Milton blamed for " taking plea- 
 
 * Lingard says thht celibacy was enjoined in the ear^ 
 HestSigeso( the church; and those who were married 
 before they were converted, were taught to live conti- 
 nently with their wives; but he has given no sufficient 
 authority for this. See his Antiq. of the Anglo-Saxon 
 Church, p. 69- The Irish saint, Columba, the famous 
 Apostla of the Western Isles, was so continent in his 
 youth, that he unmercifully whipt with nettles a virgin 
 who had discovered a partiality towards him. Jonas 
 in vita.
 
 PER;50NAL NARRATIVE. XI 
 
 sure to be all their lifetime raking in the 
 foundations of old abbeys and cathedrals." 
 Nay, he was of opinion, that love had been 
 one of the most powerful instruments employ- 
 ed by providence to further the work of the 
 early missionaries ; a doctrine, however, which 
 I fear will go ill down with those who reject 
 from their creed the operation of secondary 
 causes, and clamour against Gibbon for pre- 
 suming to think that such were employed by 
 the Almighty in spreading the gospel ; though 
 we see every day^ that it is strictly conform- 
 able to the whole economy of the universe. * 
 It was well that I had lost no time in re- 
 cording the singular details given me by the 
 recluse ; for he soon afterwards was seized with 
 palsy, which rendered his speech nearly unin- 
 
 * No man, I think, would defend Gibbon's insidious 
 infidelity ; it was base and vile. But he was surely right 
 in li e opinion, that God acted by secondary cauaes inpiO" 
 mulgating Christianity. See Decline and Fall, Chap^ 
 xiv.
 
 Xli THE AUTHOR*^S 
 
 telligible. I did all that was in my power to 
 render his situation comfortable ; but in the 
 midst of my assiduities he was removed to a 
 better world at the advanced age of eighty, 
 after I had lived in his cell upwards of two 
 months, forgetting every other pursuit in the 
 pleasure of gaining knowledge from his ex- 
 haustless memory. 
 
 The possession of my notes so completely 
 engi'ossed my mind, that I had no inclination 
 to continue my tour, and I accordingly set 
 out on my return to Dublin. One afternoon 
 while I was sitting in the travellers' room of 
 an inn, with my manuscript in one hand, and 
 a cup of tea in the other, according to my 
 usual custom, — ^the door burst open, and se- 
 veral persons were ushered in, whom I came 
 to learn were engaged in view hunting, and 
 such other laudable means of getting rid of 
 time, which the degenerate moderns have in- 
 vented for the idle. As I was in the midst 
 of a very amusing account of the Druid doc-
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. XUl 
 
 triiie of the transmigration of souls, * I was 
 not a little annoyed at the interruption, and 
 the more so, that there was not a private par- 
 lour unoccupied in the house. At any other 
 time, I should perhaps have willingly joined 
 this company, for there seemed to be among 
 them more than one original ; but, as I was 
 enjoying a rich antiquarian treat, it was with 
 great reluctance that I tied up my papers, 
 and began to sip my tea in gloomy silence. 
 The waiter had laid down beside me a pro- 
 vincial newspaper, of which I had taken little 
 notice. This was a powerful object of attrac- 
 tion to one of the party, — an elderly gentle- 
 man with a snuff-brown great-coat and a grey 
 hat, — who eagerly darted on the paper, and^ 
 
 * A late author asserts, that the Druids illustrated 
 this doctrine practically, by chopping down old people 
 amongst mutton, and feasting on the raess, and refers to 
 Strabo, xi. 513. Was it from this that Forsyth took the 
 hint for his absurd notions of human immortality ? See 
 his Principles of Moral Science.
 
 XiV^ THE author's 
 
 as if his political appetite could not be soon 
 enough gratified by reading, he abruptly ask- 
 ed me whether any account had yet arrived. 
 
 " Of what, Sir ?" said I. 
 
 He threw at me a look of surprise, as much 
 as to say, what incurious mortals we have in 
 this country ; and, without making me an an- 
 swer, he hurried his eye over the paper, as if 
 his life had been hanging on the intelligence 
 it might contain. 
 
 " Good God ! it is thrown out after all 1" 
 he exclaimed, as he tossed down the paper in 
 marked disappointment. 
 
 ** I told you so," said another of the group 
 laughing, ** the Parliament of Britain has 
 more wisdom than to give power into the 
 hands of a party whose leading principle is 
 persecution." 
 
 " I tell you, Sir, I have refuted that asser- 
 tion of yours a hundred times," replied the 
 other, " and I will not. Sir, argue with a man 
 who will not be convinced by reason." 
 
 " Our friend, the doctor, over the table,
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. X? 
 
 can witness that I never refuse to admit your 
 facts when you give me proper authorities ; 
 but you will never convince me that a Roman 
 Catholic will cease to hate heretics, and per- 
 secute them with fire and sword whenever he 
 can do so with safety to his own person.** 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the doctor, who was 
 thus appealed to, "I beg leave to stand neu- 
 ter. — You know I always abide by the laws of 
 the land, holding that the Parliament is more 
 knowing in what is for the good of the coun- 
 try than the most learned individual in it." 
 
 *' O you think so, do you ?" said the first 
 speaker, "and does not the very throwing out 
 of that bill show you, that chis same blessed 
 Parliament takes a pleasure from year to year to 
 sit down and coolly persecute four millions of 
 the best subjects in the kingdom ? Yes, Sir, you 
 may see it with your eyes blindfolded, if your 
 absurd pursuit after old ruined churches, and 
 your raking through noisome charnel-houses, 
 would give you time to think of any thing 
 that is worth thinking about."
 
 Xvi THE author's 
 
 I turned a more inquisitive look at the doc- 
 tor, whose antiquarian researches were thus so 
 scoffingly glanced at by the advocate for Ca- 
 tholic emancipation, and I exulted in the 
 thoughts of show^ing him my invaluable notes ; 
 for what is the possession of a treasure if you 
 are forced to keep it locked up from view ? 
 He was by much the oldest of the company, 
 short in stature, stooped a little forward on 
 his chair, was thin and sallow in complexion, 
 squinted a little with his left eye, and seemed 
 wonderfully pleased with a gold-headed cane 
 which he twirled about with much complacen- 
 cy of air. I was just on the point to accost 
 him, and show him my precious manuscript ; 
 but the two opponents were growing so warm 
 and noisy, that I believe I should scarcely 
 have been heard, and I was forced to wait till 
 the storm of words should grow calmer. 
 
 •* I'll prove it. Sir," said the second speak- 
 er.—" I defy you. Sir, or any man, Sir.*^ — 
 " Nay, but be calm, my good friend/* " No, 
 Sir, no man can be calm when the laws are
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. XVll 
 
 persecuting four millions of the people." 
 ** You will not believe your own eyes. Sir : 
 I tell you it is the leading principle of your 
 Catholics to persecute with fire and sword 
 every Protestant they can come at without 
 danger." *' 'Tis false, Sir, grossly false. 
 These tenets were renounced by the six Ca- 
 tholic universities, Sir, when Mr Pitt applied 
 to them for information ; and the Pope him- 
 ^self, Sir, in his rescript to the Irish prelates — 
 June, 1791— confirmed the decision ; renomir 
 cing the tenets, Sir, of not keeping faith with 
 heretics, and of encouraging his followers to 
 assassinate Protestant kings. You should know 
 that. Sir, before you talk to me." ** I knov/ 
 it. Sir, and I pity you from my soul to suffer 
 yourself to be duped by such a shallow de- 
 vice." ** 'Sdeath, Sir, will you not believe 
 the six Catholic universities and the Pope 
 himself?" " No, Sir, I promise you I will 
 not, so long as I am a Protestant ; for they 
 keep no faith with heretics, and it was their 
 interest to deceive Mr Pitt in the case yon
 
 xviii THE author's 
 
 mention." " I have done with you, Sir, it is 
 impossible to reason with you." 
 
 " Not so fast, my good friend, and you 
 shall have their own words for it." ** I tell 
 you, Sir, that they have long ago renounced 
 what you allude to, and you may as well quote 
 the laws of Draco against them, as the canons 
 of the old councils." *' What I allude to. 
 Sir, is not old : it is sanctioned by no less a 
 personage than the Most Reverend Dr Troy, 
 the present Catholic Archbishop of Dublin, 
 and, I presume, by all the good Catholics at 
 this moment in Ireland." *' Well, Sir, we 
 shall hear this mighty proof, but I believe the 
 whole is a base fabrication." 
 
 The anti-catholic gentleman upon this pul- 
 led from his pocket a scroll, which he stated, 
 upon his honour, to have been faithfully ex- 
 tracted by himself from the annotations sub- 
 joined to the Roman Catholic Bible, just pub- 
 lished by the said Dr Troy. * I began now 
 
 * The title ot this record ot Catholic principle.^ in. 
 the IQth century, is " The New Testament, 5rc. with
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. XIX 
 
 to be somewhat interested in the discussion 
 from its connection with the first coming of 
 the Catholics under Saint Patrick, in the fifth 
 century, which I had been making so many- 
 inquiries concerning at the reckise ; and, af- 
 ter the gentleman had read his extracts, I re- 
 quested a siglit of them. They were as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 *' The Church service of England being in 
 heresy and schism, is therefore not only un- 
 profitable, but damnable." — Annot, on Acts 
 X. 9. 
 
 " The prayer of a Protestant cannot be 
 heard in heaven." — Annot, on John xv. 7« 
 
 *' Their prayers and service are no better 
 than the howling of wolves." — A^moL on 
 Mark iii. 12. 
 
 ** The translators of the English Bible ought 
 to be abhorred to the depths of hell." — AU' 
 not, on Hebrews v. 7. 
 
 Annotations, ike. &,c. approved of by the Most Rev, 
 Df Troy, R. C. Archbp. of DuUlin.— Dublin, I8l6."
 
 XX THE author's 
 
 ** Even in worldly conversation and secular 
 acts of our life, we must avoid them [that is, 
 Protestants] as much as we may, because this 
 familiarity is many ways contagious and noi- 
 some to good men.'' — Annot on 2 John,, 
 verse 10. 
 
 *' All wise men see or shall see the de- 
 ceits of all heretics, though for troubling the 
 state of such commonwealths, where unluckily 
 they have received power, they cannot be so 
 suddenly extirpated." — Annot, on 2 Tim. 
 iii. 9. 
 
 " When evil men, be they heretics [that is, 
 Protestants] or other malefactors, may be pu- 
 nished and suppressed without disturbance and 
 hazard of the good, [that is, Catholics ;] they 
 may and ought by public authority, either 
 spiritual or temporal, to be chastised or exe- 
 cuted." — Annot on Matth. xiii. 29. 
 
 *' A Christian [that is, a Catholic] is bound 
 to burn and deface all heretical books, [for 
 example the English Bible.'*] — Preface, 
 
 " The zeal of a Catholic man ought to be
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. XXl 
 
 SO great toward all heretics* [Protestants] and 
 their doctrines, that he should give them the 
 curse — the execration — ihe anathema— though 
 they were ever so dear to him — though they 
 were his own parents." Idem. 
 
 " All Protestants are heretics." — Annot, 
 on 2 John, verse 10. 
 
 " Now, Sir," remarked the reader, *' what 
 do you say to these mild and peaceful doc- 
 trines which are held by lour millions of the 
 best subjects in the kingdom as you say ?" — 
 " Upon my soul, Sir, I will not believe a jot 
 of it, till I see this Bible which you mention 
 with my own eyes. You must have been im- 
 posed on, Sir." — " No, Sir, I was not imposed 
 upon ; and you may have the pleasure of see- 
 ing this book of merciful forbearance by step- 
 ping across the way to the Catholic priest's," 
 
 * Contrast this with the doctrine of the Cburch of 
 En;. land. ** Those are to be had accursed that pre- 
 sume t€> say, that every man shall be saved by the law 
 or st'Ct which he professeth.'*— T^ir^^-wiw^ AtticleSp 
 No. xvii.
 
 XXll 
 
 — " I shall go, Sir, instantly ; and I hope, Sh\ 
 you will have no objections to accompany me 
 to see the baseness of the imposition that has 
 been put upon you." — *' I am ready, Sir, 
 when you please." — They accordingly set out 
 to decide their dispute, and the antiquarian 
 doctor and myself were left to decide it as we 
 might on the parole evidence we had heard. 
 
 *' How different," said I, *^the spirit of 
 the Catholic church now from what it was in 
 the days of Saint Patrick, when it was hum- 
 bly struggling for existence, and spreading 
 slowly amidst peril and difficulty through the 
 darkness of Druidism." 
 
 " So you believe in these silly fables ?" re- 
 turned the Doctor with a leering smile ; "I 
 did not suppose there was now a man in the 
 empire above the rank of an illiterate labourer 
 wh© gave any credit to the legend of Saint 
 Patrick,'^ and still less to the fabulous tradi- 
 tions concerning the Druids." 
 
 * " Saint PaUrck has been supposed the great apostle 
 o^ the Irish, and to have effected the great work of their
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. Xxiil 
 
 ** I beg your pardon, Sir/' replied I, some- 
 what disappointed, " but I thought from what 
 fell from your friends who have just gone out 
 that you were fond of antiquities." 
 
 *' You are right, Sir ; I am so ; but it is 
 only rational antiquities. I never trouble 
 myself with legendaiy dreams except to laugh 
 
 conversion. But the stories relat'^d of this apostle are 
 doubtless legendary tales or theological romances, fabri- 
 cated four centuries after his imaginary existence."— 
 Gordon's Hist, of Ireland, I. 28 — 9, cd. Lond. 1806, 8vo. 
 
 Sir John Carr says, " No one but an incorrigible dis- 
 believer could doubt that the good and great Saint Pa- 
 trick was a tangible being." — Strang, in Irel. 
 
 " The sixty-six lives of Saint Patrick, which were ex- 
 tant in the ninth century, must have contained as many 
 thousand lies ; yet we may believe, that in one of the 
 Irish inroads, the future apobtle was led away captive." 
 — Gibbon's Decline and Fall, c» xxx. note. 
 
 It is singular that no life of the Saint (at least so far 
 as I know) has been published in English. Some of my 
 readers may be gratified to know that a translation of 
 Jocelin's history of his life and miracles, with copious 
 notes, is in preparation.
 
 at them, or, when they are absurdly defend- 
 ed, to refute them." 
 
 ** So you do not believe, Sir, that Saint 
 Patrick ever had any existence? I should 
 like to know how you disprove the testimony 
 of the annals of Ulster, * if you do not be- 
 lieve the universal tradition/' 
 
 <* I tell you, Sir, I do not believe either in 
 his existence or in that of his brother Senan, 
 who seems to be no other than the river Shan- 
 non, t You are aware. Sir, I suppose, that 
 
 * " Anno Don). 432. Patricius pcrvcnit ad Hibcr- 
 niam 9° anna Theodosii Junioris, primo anno Xisti 
 42, Episcopi Romanae ecclesiae. Sic ennumeravit Beda 
 et Marcellinus in Chronicis suis." — Anoals of Ulster. 
 
 f Dt Ledwich says, the Shannon has been turned in- 
 to St Senan, the town of Down into St Daunus, and 
 Knock-Kevin into St Kevin. — Antiq. of Ireland. 
 
 Colonel Vallency was so overseen as to mistake Ai- 
 cill, the ancient name of Kells in the county of Meath, 
 first for a jurisconsult of King Cairbre, and after- 
 wards for a surgeon. — Collectan. dc Reb. Hibern. 
 No, 5. 
 
 4
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIV'^. XXV 
 
 Pijikerton has showii how Hector Boethius, in 
 pure ignorance, beatified an old cloak, under 
 the name of Saint Amphibolus. These things 
 were common, Sir, in early times, and I have 
 no doubt that the great Irish Apostle, upon 
 proper inquiry, will turn out to be a moun- 
 tain near Inverness, called Craig Phadraig, or 
 Rock Patrick. Or, not improbably, he may 
 have some close connection with the Arkite 
 Mythology, and may perhaps be Noah him- 
 self, or even the Ark ; for we know that this 
 mythology extended to the neighbouring 
 kingdom of Cambria, as Mr Faber has lately 
 proved that the celebrated King Arthur was 
 no other than Noah, or perhaps the Isle of Ar- 
 ran. * But waving this, Sir, I am certain you 
 must laugh at the absurd miracles ascribed to 
 this same fabulous Apostle, such as producing 
 fire from ice, — " de glacie produxit ignem,'* 
 
 • See Fabor's Dissertation on the Cabiri, Vol. II. 
 and his Origin of Pagan Idolatry, II. 393. 
 VOL, I. h
 
 XXvi THE author's 
 
 are the words of one of his monkish biogra- 
 phers." 
 
 ** I beg your pardon, Sir, but I think you 
 have been rather unlucky in your example, 
 if you think this either absurd or impossible.*' 
 
 " How so, Sir ? You do not pretend that 
 the thing is possible, do you ?** 
 
 ** Not only possible," said I, "but certain, 
 as Mr Hincks will show you, if you take the 
 trouble of calling at the Cork Institution in 
 your way. I will not, indeed, pretend to 
 prove that all the miracles ascribed to the 
 Apostle are genuine, but in this instance he 
 seems to have a prior claim to Sir H. Davy 
 for the discovery of the celebrated potassium, 
 which takes fire when it touches ice." 
 
 " These monkish lives, however, are all fa- 
 bulous, sir, notwithstanding." 
 
 " Well, Sir, I must say, that you seem to 
 have the matter clear before you ; but you 
 must permit me to retain some of my old pre- 
 judices in favour of the books I have eagerly 
 studied."
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE, XXVll 
 
 " Then, Sir, I would advise you forthwith 
 to study some of those rational inquiries which 
 have thrown so much light on ancient times ; 
 such as the works of Bryant, Bergier, Gebe- 
 lin, Hardouin, Pinkerton, and Faber, who 
 w^ill clearly prove to you that all you have 
 hitherto believed of ancient times is grossly 
 fabulous. Hardouin, Sir, will show you, that 
 the works which you falsely ascribe to Homer, 
 Virgil, and Cicero, are merely forgeries of the 
 Monks in the dark ages. Gebelin, again, will 
 demonstrate that Romulus and Remus, the 
 supposed founders of Rome, are personages 
 altogether imaginary.* Then, Sir, you may 
 turn to the Abbe Bergier, t who, rejecting 
 Hardouin's notion that Hercules was Moses,t 
 
 * Monde primitif, par M. Court de Gebelin, Vol. 
 IV. B. ii. ch. 5. 
 
 f L'origine des Dieux, (Sec. Paris, 1774. 
 
 + " Hercules non alius quam Moses est, quern ma- 
 ter exposuit in carecti fluminis Nili." 
 
 Note by P. Hardouin, on Cic, Z). N. lid, iiu
 
 xxviii THE author's 
 
 clearly demonstrates that he was nothing else 
 but a large causeway to prevent rivers from 
 overflowing their banks ; which rivers have 
 been fabled to be serpents, boars, and lions, 
 which he destroyed. Jupiter, moreover, the 
 Abbe shows to be rain, which impregnated 
 Semele, a fountain, which brought forth Bac- 
 chus, a marsh ; while Prometheus was evi- 
 dently a quantity of mortar, or a batch of 
 potter's earth ; the eagle that preyed on his 
 liver, the fire of a pottery kiln ; and Mount 
 Caucausus, the hearth, or rather the kiln it- 
 self. Mightier still than these champions of 
 truth is Mr Bryant, who has shown, beyond 
 controversy, that the famous siege of Troy 
 is an arrant' fable ; and in his Analysis of 
 Ancient Mythology, has proved that all the 
 early histories of Egypt, Greece, &c. are no- 
 thing; more than fanciful accounts of Noah 
 and the ark and the deluge. Some have even 
 gone ingeniously farther, such as Mr Alwood, 
 who, in his Literary Antiquities of Greece, 
 thinks it probable that our term for the Su-
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. XXIX 
 
 preme Being is the Babylonish name of the 
 Ark, or Bad ; whence the Hindoo Boodh, 
 the Ceylonese Booden, the Gothic Oden or 
 Woden, * the Siamese Godama, the German 
 Got, and the English God, which, sir, you 
 perceive, goes to prove that our pious country- 
 men at this moment pay idolatrous worship to 
 Noah's Ark. In the same spirit. Sir, M. 
 Volney, in his Ruins of Empires, concludes, 
 from learned researches which he made in 
 the East, that Jesus Christ is merely the cab- 
 balistic name of Bacchus, and in this he is 
 sanctioned by no less a man than Buonaparte 
 himself, t In a word. Sir, these learned men 
 
 * Mr FabiT says (Robin) Hood is a fabulous per- 
 sonage from the same origin ; and he affirms little less 
 of the Isle of Bute. — Pagan Idolatry/, Vol.11. 397 and 
 393, 
 
 + For this, if it wanted any proof, we have the au- 
 thority of the celebrated German author, Wieland, 
 who had it from Buonaparte's own mouth at Weimar, 
 that he did not believe that Jesus ever had existence. 
 Okubeu's C. M. Wieland Geschildert-
 
 XXX THE AU THORNS 
 
 have proved that all which we formerly be- 
 lieved of ancient times is wholly visionary and 
 false.' 
 
 I was so stunned with his long harangue, 
 which he put an end to, seemingly, for the 
 purpose of recovering breath to begin afresh, 
 and 1 was so shocked at the impiety of the 
 latter part of it, that I could scarcely utter a 
 word. The subject of my precious notes, 
 however, still kept afloat in my thoughts, and 
 I fancied he could scarcely venture to disbe- 
 lieve the mass of facts which I had treasured 
 there, or even fly off to Noah's Ark to ex- 
 plain them away. I ventured to turn the 
 tide of conversation in that direction, not 
 without dread of being overpowered by a si- 
 milar Hood of scepticism to what he had just 
 poured forth. 
 
 *' You surely," said I, " cannot deny. Sir, 
 that the Druidic superstition was the preva- 
 lent mode of worship in Ireland before the 
 introduction of Christianity?" 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha," roared the sceptic, "what a
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. XXXI 
 
 fool you must take me for ! Has not that 
 been long set at rest by the learned John 
 Pinkerton."^" Druids in Ireland, forsooth 1 
 You may as well say that the Irish channel is 
 fiill of fresh water. There never was a sin- 
 gle Druid in the island, and all the tradition- 
 ary stories to the contrary, and Toland's au- 
 dacious assertions, are as void of truth as Keat- 
 ing*s account of the charm against serpents, 
 which Moses put on the ancestor of the Irish 
 kings when he met with him at the Red Sea, 
 a miracle which remains to this day, as I sup- 
 pose Vallency will assert, in the absence of all 
 venomous creatures from the island. Druids ! 
 No, Sir, there never was a Druid in Ire- 
 land !" 
 
 ** And what will you make then," replied 
 I, "of the numerous Druidical monuments 
 to be found every where in the country, such 
 as stone pillars, circles, altars, and rocking- 
 stones ?*' 
 
 * See his Inquiry into the History of Scotland.
 
 xxxii THE author's 
 
 " All a flam. Sir, all a flam ! No more 
 Druidic monuments than Dublin Castle, or 
 the Long Bridge of Belfast. The public. 
 Sir, has been too long imposed upon by the 
 specious learning of such works as Borlase's 
 Antiquities of Cornwal, Rowland's Mona 
 Antiqua, Toland's History of the Druids, 
 and such like fabulous books. Besides, Sir, 
 Dr M*Culloch,* the learned geologist, has 
 discovered that these same rocking-stones, so 
 ]ong supposed Druidical works, are formed 
 by the natural process of the disintegration of 
 rocks from the action of the weather.'* 
 
 *' Perhaps, Sir," 1 replied, " Dr M'Culloch 
 was not aware that we have undisputed au- 
 thority for the fact, that the ancients did erect 
 rocking stones, unless you pretend that Apol- 
 lonius Rhodius, like Virgil, is a monkish for- 
 gery of the ninth age. He says of a warrior, 
 * In the sea-surrounded Tenos he slew them, 
 
 * See his Paper on the Granite Tors of Cornwall in 
 the Geological Transactions, Vol. II. p. 78.
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. XXXIU 
 
 and about them he raised a mound of earth, 
 placing two stones on the top, of which one— 
 the wonder of men — moves to the sounding 
 breath of the north wind.' " * 
 
 ** Well, Sir, all that may be true, but there 
 never was, I affirm it again, a single Druid in 
 Ireland. The monuments supposed to have 
 been erected by them are all manifestly Gothic, 
 and were introduced by the Ostmen or Danes ; 
 and the round towers, which have so puzzled 
 all the learned, seem to me to have been used 
 as speaking trumpets to increase the sound of 
 the prayers these Goths addressed to their 
 God Woden." t . 
 
 I perceived it was impossible to make any 
 thing of him, and I reluctantly gave up all 
 thoughts of showing him my antiquarian trea- 
 
 'riv \riori(!a;jjZog, rrsp/offiov avd^a6t Xsvasr^, 
 Krjurai rr/jiivrog Wo 'Ttvoitj jSoperxo, — ApOLLON. Rho©. 
 f Sir John Carr's Stranger in Ireland.
 
 XXXIV THE AUTHOR^S 
 
 sure. I attempted to give the conversation 
 another turn, and I found my sceptic as cre- 
 dulous of the possibility of executing some of 
 the wildest of modern proposals as he was 
 sceptical concerning antiquities. He believed 
 with Darwin, for example, that w^e might ere 
 long come to be able to predict the winds and 
 the weather for several months before hand ;* 
 and, with Dr Chalmers of Glasgow, that our 
 telescopes might soon be so improved as to 
 discover the planetary inhabitants, t Indeed, 
 I have seldom seen a sceptic who was not 
 most childishly credulous respecting particu- 
 lar subjects. 
 
 The Catholic disputants returned and in- 
 terrupted our farther discourse on these im- 
 possibilities, while he was attempting to prove 
 that Bishop Wilkins' project for making a 
 journey to the moon t was as practicable as 
 
 * Darwin's Botanic Garden, Vol. II. Note, sub fin. 
 + Discourses on the Modern Astron. p. 31, 1st edit. 
 + See the Works of John Wilkins, Bishop of Ches- 
 ter. 4
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. XXXV 
 
 Sadler's balloon voyage across the straits of 
 Dover. The advocate for emancipation ap- 
 peared considerably chop-fallen, though he 
 still persisted in his opinion. He had been 
 convinced by his own eyes that his opponent's 
 extracts were genuine ; yet with the true li- 
 berality of spirit which so markedly charac- 
 terizes those who take his side of the ques- 
 tion, he continued to support the Catholic 
 cause, and insisted on the Gospel precept that 
 we ought not to persecute those v,ho, if they 
 had power, would, by their oivn avowal and 
 invaluable practice^ show others no mercy. 
 In order to restore good humour, I proposed 
 that we should drown all our differences in a 
 cheerful glass, which was immediately agreed 
 to by the two emancipation disputants ; but 
 my friend, the Doctor, demurred, saying, he 
 had been all day examining the interesting 
 ruins of a church, and he did not choose to 
 infringe the twenty-eighth canon of King Ed- 
 gar, which forbade drinking and debauchery 
 at church xvakes, in the following terms,
 
 XXXvi THE author's 
 
 which he condescended to give in Saxon, as 
 being more intelligible than the mongrel lan- 
 guage called English, thundering out with 
 much vanity of air : ** And we laeraw that 
 man aet Cyric waeccan svvithe gedreoh ry. And 
 georne gebidde. And aenige drenc ne aenig un- 
 nit tharne dreoge." * — But how he made out 
 his antiquarian labour in the church ruins to 
 be a church wake, I suppose it would have puz- 
 zled him to tell. At all events, he showed by 
 his quotation that he was learned in the Saxon 
 tongue, or more probably, that he had picked 
 up the scrap from some body who was. That 
 his learning, however, was not wholly bor- 
 rowed, I began to discover before we parted. 
 
 " These Saxons must have been prodigious- 
 ly learned I should imagine. Doctor," said 
 the gentleman in brown. 
 
 ** They were so, Sir," replied the Doctor, 
 ^* and so skilled in the sublime of architec- 
 
 * Wheloc's Bede, Can. 28. K, Edgar.
 
 PERSONAL NARRATH-E. XXXVU 
 
 ture, that we of these times are pigmies to 
 them, mere pigmies, Sir." 
 
 ** And civilized, I presume, in no common 
 degree," said the other gentleman. 
 
 ** As to that. Sir," said the Doctor, *' the 
 wise canon which I have just quoted is unde« 
 niable proof, if any were necessary." 
 
 " Another strong proof," remarked I, " of 
 what you advance occurs in Milton's History 
 of England, namely, that the wife of Earl 
 Godwin, sister of the famous King Canute^ 
 made great gain by the trade she drove of 
 buying up English youths and maidens to sell 
 to Denmark as slaves ; and old Giraldus Cam- 
 brensis says that this was a very common 
 practice with the English of these times." 
 
 " I won't believe it, sir," replied the Doc- 
 tor somewhat nettled, " Milton was a paity- 
 man, and Cambrensis a retailer of fables ; be- 
 sides, they were not so bad, even allowing this 
 to be true, as the ancient Irish, who are proved 
 beyond all question to have been ferocious
 
 XXXVlIi THE author's 
 
 cannibals, as you will find both in Di odor us * 
 and Strabo,t and so late, Sir, as the days of 
 Queen Elizabeth, the celebrated author of the 
 Faerie Queene saw with his own eyes, t at the 
 execution of Murrogh O'Brien, an old wo- 
 man, the criminal's foster-mother, take up his 
 head when quartered and suck the blood, say- 
 ing, the earth was not worthy to receive it. 
 You must not tell me of the Irish, Sir." 
 
 " You are not of this country. Sir, I pre- 
 sume ?'* said I. 
 
 " No, Sir, 1 thank God," replied he, quaflf- 
 
 rov; raror/.o-ji/rag t'/jv 6]/o,(Mcc'^rjfMvriv 'Ij/i'. -Diod. Sic. Lib. v. 
 
 f Geog. iv. — Poinj). Mela says that the Irish were 
 destitute of every virtue. *' Incontliti sunt ct omnium 
 virtutem ignari magis quam aliae gentcs, aliquateaus 
 gnari, pietatis admodum expertes." — Lib. lil. — ''The 
 Insh," says Hume, " from the beginning of <ime, had 
 been buried in the most profound barbarism and igno- 
 rance at the coming of the English." — Hist, of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 ■^ S])enser's View of Ireland.
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. XXXIX^ 
 
 ing off a glass of wine with self-complacency, 
 in defiance of the twenty-eighth canon of King 
 Edgar. 
 
 While he was enjoying his wine, and pre- 
 paring to charge a large tobacco-pipe from a 
 well stuffed seal-skin pouch, the Anti-Catho- 
 lic gentleman whispered in my ear that the 
 Doctor was a Caledonian, who had been bred 
 to the church; and though, while at college, he 
 gave promise of becoming a skilful theologian, 
 in one of his first appearances in the pulpit as a 
 candidate for the charge of a numerous con- 
 gregation, he had unfortunately, in the piety 
 and simplicity of his heart, repeated the Lord's 
 Prayer ; and so marked a symptom of his 
 heresy was death to his success. He lost his 
 call for that very reason ; * and seeing the at- 
 
 * This is by no means a singular occurrence in Scot- 
 land. There was an instance, 1 am informed, so late as 
 18:7 ; and little wonder, when the reverend person who 
 at present assumes the office of TheChiistian Instructor 
 in the Scottish capital has dared to pronounce^ both
 
 xl THE AUTHOR*S 
 
 tempt vain to blot out the impious ofFence in- 
 the eyes of these doughty disciples of Calvin, 
 he purchased from Aberdeen a degree of 
 LL.D., and on the income of a scanty patri- 
 mony had for many years travelled through- 
 the kingdom in quest of antiquities. I mar? 
 veiled greatly, upon learning this, that he 
 should be so very ignorant as to deny the ex- 
 istence of Saint Patrick ; but an incident just 
 occurred which showed that the English are 
 no less ignorant of modern Ireland than the 
 Doctor was of its antiquities. 
 
 We had come to a dead pause in our va-. 
 rious disputes, when our ears were assailed 
 with a strange uproar from without, and immedi- 
 ately afterwards the door of our room was 
 driven open with violence, disclosing a scene 
 which I despair of being able to bring before 
 
 from the pulpit and the press, that the Lord's Prajer is 
 *' radically defective.'' — See p. 1b\ of Lectures on select 
 Portions of Scripture, by A. Thomson, A. M. Minister 
 of St George's, Edinburgh Edin. J8l6.
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. xli 
 
 the reader's fancy. The first person who 
 burst in was a tall, slender, raw-looking 
 youth, girt about the waist like an ant, with- 
 out his hat and neckcloth, his hair standing 
 on end like the spines of a baited hedge- 
 hog, and his eyes starting out from their 
 sockets like those of a startled hare. He was 
 followed, or rather pursued, by a brawny 
 black-headed fellow, literally naked, bellow- 
 ing in Irish as loud as St Columba, when he 
 sung the 44th Psalm to terrify the Pictisli 
 Druids, ^ and he seemed earnestly to thirst 
 after the blood of the terrified youth, who 
 fled from him as he would have done from 
 an ogre, till he got behind my chair, panting 
 
 * When Columba was chanting the eyening service 
 in the castle of Briidc, the Pictish king, the Magi 
 (Druids) did all they could to prevent him; upou 
 which he began the 44tli Psalm, wiih a voice miracu- 
 lously elevated, like unto a clap of thunder, so that 
 the "people were struck with great terror thereat, 
 A D A M N A N (J s , in vita.
 
 xlii 
 
 and blowing as if his soul had been ready tcr 
 escape at every heave of his breath. The 
 naked fellow, upon seeing our company, as- 
 sumed a look of the most singular cast I have 
 ever witnessed. Humour, however, and jo- 
 cularity were evidently uppermost in his mind, 
 as he said, 
 
 " By Saint Patrick, honey, you'll not be 
 having it to say over the ^\ib, how you never 
 seed a wild Irishman, you wont, jewel ; and 
 had the feeling him and the axperience to the 
 bargain, you have. Well, and to be sure, 
 you know it's only a joke ^ your honours,'* 
 addressing the gentlemen of our company, 
 " and hopes, sir, it's no offence for a bit of 
 sport.*' 
 
 We now understood, that the affrighted 
 youth was an Oxonian who had expressed 
 his belief in the hearing of some Hibernian 
 wags, of the existence of a race of wild Irish 
 men who ran naked on the mountains, and 
 they, taking advantage of his credulity, had 
 ©ne of their number privately stript and chain-
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. xlill 
 
 ed in the stable of the inn, to a sight of whom 
 the Oxonian was introduced as to an exhibi- 
 tion of wild beasts. On a signal given, how- 
 ever, the pretended wild man burst his chain, 
 and darting on the terrified youth, disencum- 
 bered him of a quantity of bleached buckram^ 
 which he had wound about his throat for a 
 neckcloth, and performed several other in- 
 nocent dismantlings to put him in bodily fear. 
 The English booby was terribly enraged, but 
 for fear of farther danger, he was obliged not 
 only to forgive the wags, but to allow them a 
 bonus to drink his health, with which they 
 contentedly disappeared, showering upon 
 him all the blessings they had ever heard pro- 
 nounced. * 
 
 On my return to Dublin, I began to re- 
 
 * The reader is assured, that this scene is neither 
 fanciful nor exaggerated. More than one instance of 
 a similar kind has occurrt'd within a few years, to the 
 great gratification of waggish Hibernians, and the ex« 
 posure of John Bui!.
 
 Xliv THE AUTHOR*S 
 
 fleet on the ignorance which was abroad, con- 
 cerning this country, particularly as T had^ 
 heard from the Scottish Doctor, a professed 
 adept in antiquarian lore, the most childisb 
 scepticism relative to Saint Patrick. The 
 notes which I had so carefully taken from 
 the conversations of the Recluse, I thought, 
 could not fail to expel in some measure this 
 gross darkness, and I accordingly turned in 
 my mind the most efficient mode of giving 
 them circulation. I consulted with a friend 
 to aid me with his advice, and, after revolving 
 the matter with all the deliberation which so 
 momentous a subject required, it was deter- 
 mined to throw as many of them as possible 
 into a continued narrative, it being more to 
 the taste of the age, than a dry chronicle of 
 facts, or long tedious discussions. 
 
 In drawing it up I have carefully compar- 
 ed and collated my documents with what were 
 previously in the hands of the learned ; and 
 I have more frequently quoted these authorir 
 ties than, perhaps, my readers may thank niQ
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. xlv 
 
 for. I have also not scrupled to use the ex- 
 pressions of good authors when they occurred 
 to me, in order to give more force to my own 
 feebler diction : if any body thinks this is 
 patching or pedantry, he is at liberty to say 
 so ; I shall not take offence. If it is objected, 
 that the early inhabitants did not speak the 
 provincial dialects which I have put in the 
 mouths of some of the inferior characters, I 
 answer, that I found it the best way to dis- 
 tinguish them, and it is no more an objection 
 than making the superior characters speak 
 modern English. Who ever wished to hear 
 Shakespeare's Othello speak Venetian ? or 
 Fluellen declaiming in courtly and correct 
 English ? Besides, I can assure the reader 
 that " I disdain," as much as Mr Godwin,* 
 ** the mimic toil of inventing a jargon" for 
 my characters, and I have given the Irish and 
 the Scotch t as it is at present spoken by the 
 
 * St Leon, Vol. II. p. 299. 
 
 f Dr Jamksoi\*s Dictionary will much assist the
 
 xlvi THE author's 
 
 peasants. I am aware that this practice, 
 however, falls under the feeble lash of the 
 Continental critics, particularly the French, 
 who stigmatise it as a remnant of barbarism. 
 ** C'est ce melange," says La Harpe,* *' du se- 
 rieux et du bouffon, du grave et du burlesqucj 
 qui defigure si grossierement les pieces An- 
 glaises et Espagnoles, et c'est un reste de 
 barbaric." It is only necessary to reply, that 
 it is impossible to give a picture of society by 
 confining the delineation to heroes and princes. 
 As to the truth of the tale, I cannot go 
 so far as Massuccio, and say, '* Invoco I'Al- 
 tissimo Dio per testimonio che tutte son ver- 
 simile historic ;"t but I pledge myself that 
 I have not, to my knowledge, infringed on 
 historical facts by fanciful misstatement. I 
 have even been sparmg of giving the miracu- 
 
 English reader, though he will not find there all the 
 Scotch words which occur in the Tale. 
 
 * Lycee, I. 74. edit. 8vo. Paris. 
 
 f Massuccio di Salerno, 11 NoYellin©>
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE. xlvtl 
 
 lous deeds of the Apostle, warned by the dan- 
 ger Comsi brought himself into by writing 
 his Romances, entitled, *' Miracles de Notre 
 Dame ;" for which offence the Devil would, 
 to a certainty, have choked him, had he not 
 expeditiously made the sign of the cross. * I 
 cannot, like Apuleius in his Golden Ass, 
 promise you a fashionable w^ork, — '' Ego tibi 
 sermone isto Milesio varias fabulas conseram, 
 auresque tuas benevolas lepido susurro pumul- 
 ceam ;" t nor a ** tres elegante, delicieuse, 
 melliflue, et tres plaisante histoire ;" t but 
 by mingling the singular customs and rites of 
 the Druids with love tales, — ** con amorosissi- 
 mi documenti," § — I hope the reader may find 
 in the narrative some little profitable amuse- 
 ment for a winter's night ; and if it give half 
 
 * Dunlop's History of Fiction. 
 
 f Apuleius, sub initio. 
 
 f. Roy Perceforest, in tit. 
 
 § Sabadino delli Arienti, le Porretaue, iji tit.
 
 xlyiii THE author's, &c. 
 
 the pleasure in reading that it has done ts 
 me in writing it, I shall think myself suffi- 
 ciently gratified. 
 
 Stephens Green, Dublin y 1 
 Now 2, 1818. / 
 
 Note. — In the Cloister of St Pierre at Aix is a three- 
 quarter length picture of Saint Patrick, with the in- 
 scription, "'Sanaus Patricius, oppidi Ardmachani con- 
 ditor, filius ex sorore Sancti Martini Tyronensis." On 
 Saint Boyne's cross, a whole length figure of the 
 Apostle is sculptured. Jn the Irish House of Lords 
 U'fls a fine painting by Barry of Saint Patrick preach- 
 ing before Leogaire.
 
 SAINT PATRICK, 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Kennen sie dieses Fraiienzimmcr ?" 
 
 Werter. 
 
 " Bot, O thou virgine, how sail I call thee ? 
 Ane goddess art thou soythly to my sight, 
 Whether thou be Diane, Phebus' sister bright, 
 Or than sum goddess of the nymphyis kynd." 
 Gawin Douglas. 
 
 <* Oh, my darling dear now, ye must just 
 rest a bit among the shamrocks there, for my 
 ould bones cannot budge, not the making of 
 a haq)-string farther," said old Camderoch, as 
 he set down his harp on a green slope that 
 margined the Baa water. " Bad luck to
 
 4 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 your crazy face ; look ye there now, snapt, if 
 I am aleive, Mureghan's span new twanger 
 he made me pitch hinl a fi'penny * for at 
 Coulraine, and swore by the great oak of 
 Slivedonard, that it was the rael royal, and 
 as strong aye as a curragh cable. Faith and 
 troth, I begin to have a notion, that all the 
 animals in ould Erin, man, woman, and chil' 
 of them, are as good as enchanted by them 
 magicians. There's never a bit of catgut in 
 Antrim, but they have bewitched. Snapt! 
 and not the making of a finger's-length in the 
 goat-skin. Dear a dear, it would have done 
 your heart good just to tinkle Cushlih ma 
 chree to the Ban, as he peeps out among the 
 banks there ; but the rael royal is as dead as 
 Dogherty, ochone !" 
 
 The good harper's eyes filled, when he 
 thought -of the sweet harmony he could have 
 
 * *' About this time there \vas a mint erected at Ar- 
 magh and Cashel, and money coined for the service of 
 the State." — O'Connor's Keating, apud A. Dom. 427, 
 page 327, edit. London, 1723.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. O 
 
 poured along the meadows, in cadence to the 
 munnurs of the Ban, had it not been for the 
 snapping of this unlucky string ; and hoping, 
 but not daring to trust, that he should find a 
 substitute for it, he began to rummage the 
 goat-skin waDet in which he carried all his 
 miscellany of moveables. But had there been 
 a dozen strings in that wallet, it is odds that 
 he should have found one, amidst the chaos 
 of scraps of provision, old harp pins, deer*s 
 horns, and the like, which he had carefully 
 treasured there. As he was thus busily em- 
 ployed in tossing and turning his things over 
 and over, the splashing of a horse in the river 
 caught his ear, and raising his grey eyes, they 
 were met by the brightest vision that ever 
 blest the eyes of a harper since the days of 
 Orpheus, in this or any other country. For 
 although his fancy had not, at this moment, 
 led him to dream of magic and enchantment, 
 the female form that now appeared to him 
 would not have failed to derange his calmer 
 trains of thinking. Indeed, he might have
 
 O SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 come to a pause whether it was not the God- 
 dess of Music herself who had deigned to visit 
 him, had he not instantly perceived that her 
 habiliments were those of a Druidess, — a cir- 
 cumstance which tended nothing to lull his 
 fears of magic. He overlooked her angelic 
 form, and the beauty of her dappled palfrey, 
 and fixed his fearful gaze on her robe of azure^ 
 the wavings of her yellow scaif, and the wreath 
 of flowers that shielded her hair from the 
 rough caresses of the wind. * 
 
 On reaching the bank of the river where 
 the harper sat in gloomy conjecture, the do- 
 cile-looking steed arched its neck, and reared- 
 and plunged in all the wantonness of caprice 
 and high spirit ; and, although the rider 
 seemed to be the '' gentlest of sky-born 
 forms," and to possess the commanding dig- 
 nity of celestial natures, it required her most 
 artful management to keep her seat. Cam- 
 deroch hesitated whether he should venture 
 
 ♦ See Toland's History of the Druids.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 7 
 
 to lend his feeble assistance to this female ma- 
 gician, as he had half-fancied the stranger to 
 be. He decided he ought, and began to 
 make all the haste his stiff limbs would allow 
 to run to her aid ; but just as he got within 
 a stone's throw, her palfrey made a spring 
 across the field, and in an instant was out of 
 sight in the woods. And even had it not 
 done so, it is a question whether he would 
 have trusted himself nearer, his fancied dan- 
 ger had so alarmed him, and he was so over- 
 awed by the majestic air of the stranger ; for 
 the countenance that blushed from among the 
 profusion of her dark tresses, though it spoke 
 an '* autumnal mildness" of nature, yet bore 
 such traits of superior intelligence, that he 
 could not have assumed courage to accost her ; 
 she was, indeed, more like the eldest of the 
 nymphs than the youngest of the graces. 
 
 Camderoch had, in his youth, been an ad- 
 mirer of female beauty, and had often lent his 
 muse to its celebration 5 but never had he 
 seen his summer dreams so beautifully em-
 
 S SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 bodied as in the apparition which had just 
 vanished in the woods. He was lost in amaze- 
 ment, and his dread of magic was sunk in ad- 
 miration. He stood motionless, and kept his 
 eye fixed on the glade where he had seen the 
 last waving of her golden scarf disappear 
 among the trees. He thought the very air 
 where she had passed breathed a heavenly frag- 
 rance, although he might be deceived by the 
 odour of the dewy birches that hung in trel- 
 lised luxuriance over the Ban. Nay, the pal- 
 frey itself, excepting its waywardness, looked 
 like a denizen of paradise, its fonn was so ele- 
 gant, its movements so airy, and the dappling 
 of its colours so tastefully blended. He even 
 began to expect to see flowers springing up 
 along the track over which the vision had flit- 
 ted, for so lightly had the grass been trod, 
 that he could not perceive a foot print on the 
 turf. 
 
 On looking around him, he found lying on 
 the ground a square packet which had been 
 dropped by the stranger. It was wrapped i«
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 9 
 
 a piece of the same azure cloth of which her 
 robe was made, and fastened with a golden 
 clasp studded with gems. The capricious 
 vaultings of the palfrey had thrown down this 
 singular packet in the place, where the harpev 
 recognised it as a magic trap ready baited to 
 ensnare him to destruction. 
 
 " Man aleive !" he cried, " I'm bewitched 
 for certain, and here is the blue temptation 
 dear, to ruin ould Cam for good and all.. Ah 
 the jewel, to be putting her magic on a poor 
 haq)er, that wudn't harm a gnat for love 
 or money in a long summer's day." 
 
 His first determination, on finding the pack- 
 et, was to leave it and trudge away with his 
 harp beyond this dangerous neighbourhood ; 
 but his curiosity was strongly roused to dis- 
 cover the contents of the packet, and tempted 
 him to nin into the foreseen danger, as the 
 fascinated bird rushes into the fangs of the 
 serpent. * He took the precaution to bless 
 
 ♦ The belief of the power of serpents to fascinate 
 birds and other animals is ancient and universal. Dr 
 
 a2
 
 10 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 himself thrice before he touched it ; yet, with- 
 al, his hand trembled violently when he tried 
 to undo the clasp ; but this, to his mortifica- 
 tion, was magically/ fastened, and defied his 
 strength or his ingenuity to open. 
 ' 1 he whole event quite absorbed his thoughts, 
 and he sat musing so long, that, before he was 
 aware, the sun was rapidly hastening beyond 
 the mountains of Tyrone. The chill of the 
 evening, however, as it began to benumb his 
 limbs, informed him that it was time to bestir 
 himself. He was again put to a stand what 
 to do with the packet. The beautiful stranger 
 might return to claim it when she had re- 
 duced her palfrey to obedience, and should 
 
 Johnson, in his preface to Lobo's Travels, rejects it as a 
 vulgar prejudice ; but it was pioved Irom actual expe- 
 riment by a philosophical gentleman in England. (Phil. 
 Trans, abridg. Vol. 111.) Mr Barrow found it avouch* 
 ed by creditable persons at the Cape from ocular ob- 
 servation. The peasants in Scotland believe that vipers 
 raise themselves perpendicularly on their tails, and suck' 
 down the mounting larks.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 11 
 
 he take it with hun, it might prove a source of 
 trouble. He felt, however, that he could not 
 bring himself to part with it, and curiosity 
 and superstition made him conjecture that it 
 was spell-bound in his hand. He resolved, 
 therefore, to carry it to his friend Bryan, who 
 was more knowing in such matters than him- 
 self, and w^ould, he doubted not, be able to re- 
 solve his difficulties, and put him in the way 
 to avert mishap should any threaten. 
 
 Glendalagh, where Bryan resided, was not 
 far distant, and he slung his harp over his 
 shoulder and struck into the woods, expecting 
 to reach it before dark. On his way thither, 
 he was often betrayed by glimpses of the twi- 
 light sky into the fancy that he saw the stran- 
 ger gliding through the openings of the trees j 
 and little pools of water often appeared mould- 
 ed into the form of her flowing robe as they 
 reflected the grey light from their surface. 
 Every rustle of the branches alarmed him with 
 unknown danger, and the distant howling of 
 the wolves from the less frequented tracts of
 
 12 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 the forest was rapidly transformed by his be- 
 wildered imagination into the neighmgs of 
 the palfrey in the air, into which, he had no 
 doubt, the stranger had mounted, and "walk- 
 ed with angel step upon the wind." * 
 
 To add to his troubles, he was uncertain 
 whether he was in the path, and the darkness, 
 which now began to gather, deepened the 
 gloom that the intermingling branches above 
 him produced even in the sunshine of noon. 
 He really had lost his way, by going straight 
 forward amon^j the underwood, instead of 
 keeping to the right at a slight turn of the 
 road, where stood the large white trunk of an 
 old birch tree, that he had no relish to en- 
 counter ; for that it was an inanimate tree, and 
 not a sheeted spectre, was what he could not 
 believe. Among that underwood his unlucky 
 harp got entangled, and, as he struggled to 
 make good his way, pulling back one branch 
 
 Darwia.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 13 
 
 with his hand, pushing up another with his 
 head, and pressing with all his fore against 
 the thick interweavings of birch and hazel 
 bushes — ^twang went the hai-p strings, and two 
 more were bewitched even to breaking. But 
 what grieved him most was the loss of an 
 amulet of sovereign virtue, which would have 
 guarded him from this mischance : he utterly 
 forgot that it had failed a few hours before to 
 protect the continuity of ** the real royal" 
 from Druidical enchantment, or to give him 
 confidence in his interview with the stranger. 
 What reason they could have for thus prac- 
 tising their arts of necromancy upon an old 
 harper, did not appear ; but this view of the 
 matter never struck Camderoch, who, although 
 he had no tincture of what is called vanity in 
 his disposition, thought himself of some little 
 importance in reriim naturd. 
 
 His distresses, however, only served to ir- 
 ritate him to drive his way among the bushes, 
 a tuft of which he now broke through by lean- 
 ing with his whole weight on the weakest
 
 1^ 8AINT PATRICK. 
 
 part of the barrier. As they sprung back, he 
 felt something strike his face, and could not 
 contain his joy when he found it to be a bunch 
 of mountain ash berries, *' the sovereignest 
 thing on earth" * against charms. 
 
 " Oh, sure themselves it just is," he cried 
 exultingly, " good luck to them ! Dear a dear, 
 had they but com'd at the snapping of the 
 twangers, and hard for the jewels it was, not 
 being there at all as they weren't. Ah, the 
 Tories, they had a fancy to trick ould Cam, 
 .but the rael honies are com'd at the nick. 
 Adad, boys chated ye are now, for certain : 
 oh the day, that ye'd streive to harm a j)oor 
 harper that never chated a boy of a ha'p'orth 
 in the wide world." 
 
 Camderoch's soliloquy was interrupted by 
 what he took for the sound of running water 
 at no great distance on the right. He turn- 
 ed to that direction, and had the good for- 
 tune, — success to the mountain ash berries, — 
 
 * Henry IV.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 15 
 
 to get through the hazels to a little brook 
 which stole among the copsewood : the very 
 brook, he immediately determined, that ran 
 at the foot of Glendaiagh bank ; aye, and he 
 heard the barking of Bryan's dog, and saw a 
 feeble stream of light flickering among the 
 bushes that hung from the brow just above 
 him, — the cheerful indication of sequestered 
 comfort. The sailor, whose eye is gladdened 
 by the light of a beacon on a dark and rug- 
 ged shore, could not exult more than Camde- 
 roch did in this discovery. There still re- 
 mained, however, between him and hospitali- 
 ty the thick bushes on the bank, or the no less 
 difficult passage along the channel of the 
 brook, that was everywhere obstructed with 
 large shapeless stones and masses of rock, 
 among -which the imprisoned water stood in 
 pools, and formed dangerous pitfalls, that the 
 darkness prevented him from perceiving j and 
 often when he thought to step on a solid bed 
 of sand or gravel, he plunged unawares into 
 deep water.
 
 16 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 After a distressing march of this kind, in 
 which he had sometimes to clamber over the 
 huge stones of the channel, and sometimes to 
 push his way through the thicket on the bank, 
 he found himself unexpectedly close by the 
 spring which supplied Bryan with water, and 
 Bryan's dog Flan, who had stolen out to re- 
 connoitre, leaping around him in token of 
 joyful recognition, not less grateful to the 
 harper, than was the greeting of his faithful 
 hound to the sea-worn Ulysses ; * for Cam- 
 deroch was everywhere a favourite with ** the 
 firmest friends'* t of man, as he never tasted 
 a morsel without sharing it among them. 
 
 He now found a road laid with flag-stones, 
 that led from the well to Bryan's cabin, the 
 door of which being ajar, discovered a corner 
 of the cheerful hearth, where Bryan himself 
 was seated and busy in assisting little Norah, 
 
 Wagging his tail, and pricking up his ears. 
 
 Odyss. P' 302. 
 + Ijoxd Byron,
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 17 
 
 his only daughter, to cook some venison, 
 while she was singing to her delighted father, 
 a song she had lately learned from our harper 
 when he was last at Glendalagh. Cam- 
 deroch almost forgot his misfortunes, and 
 paused with no ordinary pleasure while he 
 listened to the sweet artless voice that was 
 chanting his verses, and he cordially forgave 
 some little mistakes in the air, which his ear 
 detected.
 
 18 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Young, innocent, on whose sweet forehead mild. 
 The parted ringlet shone in simplest guise." 
 
 Gertrude. 
 
 " Shyh If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my re- 
 venge. — If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should be his 
 sufferance by Christian example ? why, revenge.'* 
 
 Merch. of Venice. 
 
 As the little girl finished the song, he 
 heard her father saying: "Ah Norah dear, 
 if you had ould Cam himself now, just to 
 taste a bit of your venison, and ryse you one 
 of his purttiest songs. Well, he is a right 
 fellow, ril say for't : 1 was just a thinking 
 that you love the ould boy better than your 
 own father dear. D'ye remember the day 
 I popt upon you at the side of the brook, 
 when you had stole away to be after him for 
 nothing but a bit of a song ?**
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 19 
 
 " Now father dear," replied little Norah, 
 " don't be bothering me ; for I never do 
 nothing unknownst to^you in the wide world, 
 only for the purtty songs you know : and 
 ould Cam himself, success to him.'' — 
 
 " Success to your ownself my swate chil','* 
 said Camderoch, who at this moment dragged 
 his weary limbs over the upright flag-stone, 
 that served as a break-weather at the cabin 
 door. 
 
 " Bless my heart, Norah love, if it isn't 
 himself there," cried Bryan, " com'd to 
 truck a song for a bit of your venison." 
 
 ** Dear, and so it is now," said Norah, 
 '* who cud have thought it ; and drownded 
 and fatigued y^u ai-e sure, my good Cam :" 
 observing that his clothes were completely 
 drenched and bespattered with mud, which 
 was not wonderful, after stumbling in the 
 dark, through the pools of Giendalagh brook, 
 and scrambling among the dripping bushes of 
 the copse. 
 
 Little Norah was all life and activity till
 
 so 8«AINT PATRICK. 
 
 she got the good harper seated dry and snug 
 at the hearth corner, with the nicest dish of 
 venison, and a horn of ale * beside him to 
 make him comfortable. After the customary 
 prefacing oC^ircumstances, with which the old 
 assume the privilege of teasing their hearers, 
 Camderoch disclosed at length the particulars 
 of his adventure ; his interview with the 
 stranger ; his finding the wonderful packet ; 
 and his losing his way in the woods. The 
 packet itself he cautiously took from his wallet, 
 looking around him to see that no intruder 
 had appointed himself a witness. Norah 
 showed little less emotion at the tale than the 
 harper had done at the reality, and she eager- 
 ly Metched her head over his shoulder to 
 feast her sight with so great a curiosity. His 
 talking of magic, however, intimidated her 
 from assailing him with the questions which 
 were mustering and jostling each other, in 
 
 * Ale was a favourite liquor in those days. Vide Joce- 
 Hn in vit. St Patr. &c.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 21 
 
 thick array, on the tip of her tongue ; and 
 she gazed in silence. She even withdrew 
 her hand, which was half stretched out to ex- 
 amine the packet ; for she felt a certain mys- 
 terious awe for every thing connected with 
 ** the secrets of nature." 
 
 Bryan's countenance exhibited the most 
 grotesque assemblage of emotions that ean be 
 imagined, and would have supplied a subject 
 for Dumenil's pun, that he was either a god 
 or a painter who could make such faces.* 
 He looked wise, and silly, and hoping, and 
 doubtful, and glad, and surprised, all in a 
 breath. He kept his eye rivetted on the 
 packet, while he turned it round and round, 
 pressing it in every direction to ascertain its 
 contents. It evidently consisted of folded 
 pieces of parchment, if he might judge from 
 external examination ; and he thought, but 
 could scarcely credit his senses, that it must 
 be a parcel of the occult records of the Druids 
 
 • I-<ove's Lab. Lost,
 
 22 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 which were held by them to be so sacred. 
 How so valuable a packet came to be intrust- 
 ed to a wandering solitary female, he could 
 not guess ; her attire, indeed, as described by 
 the harper, indicated a Druidess of supe- 
 rior rank ; yet why was she alone, and whither 
 was she carrying the packet ? These were 
 questions which he could not answer, and his 
 mind was so hurried away with joy at having 
 it thus in his power to annoy these hated priests, 
 that he could not pause to think of hows and 
 whys. It was the joy of revenge ; and but 
 for the cause that kindled this dark passion, 
 we should have severely stigmatised our host 
 of Glendalagh ; that cause, though it could 
 not sanctify so marked a sign of our fallen 
 nature, went near to harmonize it with jus- 
 tice. 
 
 Bryan was, indeed, a very different sort of 
 person from Camderoch. He had all the 
 genuine simplicity of the latter in his domes- 
 tic circle, if himself and Norah could be call- 
 ed so ; but when he was out of that circle.
 
 SAIKT PATKIC. 23 
 
 he showed that he had an inexhaustible fund 
 of cunning, and a considerable knowledge of 
 the passions of men, and of the readiest way 
 to turn them to his own advantage, or to the 
 execution of a favourite scheme. He had 
 not derived any distinction from birth ; and he 
 had spent his early years as a hunter under a 
 veteran chieftain in Connaught, till his young 
 fancy was irradiated by the image of the fair 
 Evelyn, which flitted like an angelic vision be- 
 fore his eye wherever he turned. 
 
 Hitherto he had hunted to please his chief, 
 and exerted himself to surpass his fellows from 
 a spirit of emulation. Now another motive 
 dawned on his soul, and the trophies of his 
 prowess and agility were frequently transmit- 
 ted, — not toEvel}m indeed, for to her he dared 
 not yet hint his sentiments, — ^but to her father. 
 His meaning was readily conceived ; he was 
 encouraged by her fond parents to press his 
 suit ; and his attachment was finally rewarded 
 with the hand cf his fair bride. His tender- 
 ness increased with the closeness of the tie
 
 24i SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 which bound him ; he renounced the preca- 
 rious life of a hunter, that so frequently led 
 him from his cheerful home ; and became a 
 shepherd, that he might always associate with 
 his beloved Evelyn, and live out his short 
 span of existence in one long sunny day of 
 bliss. 
 
 Such are the dreams of fancy's childhood, 
 which the unwelcome light of morning dis- 
 solves, and usually leaves nothing on the 
 trackless memory but distant glimpses of 
 their summer greenness. Such was not the 
 case with Biyan. His dream had indeed va- 
 nished, and had left his Eden blank and cheer- 
 less ; but every thing connected with Evelyn 
 had woven its silken tissue too closely with 
 his thoughts to be ever dissolved. Evelyn 
 was dead j but her image hung over his every 
 step, like the bright planet of love when it 
 stoops from the clouds of the morning : Eve- 
 lyn was dead ; but her murderers lived in the 
 hated form of every human being who wore
 
 SAINT PATRICK. ^ 
 
 the insignia of a Druid, on which Bryan could 
 not look without shuddering with horror. 
 
 After being united to Evelyn, he had made 
 choice of a spot for his little cottage, near to 
 a grove held sacred by the Druids of Con- 
 naught, to whose doctrines he was an adhe- 
 rent ; and several years of blissful existence 
 rolled over him and Evelyn in this woodland 
 retreat, where their attachment became still 
 closer linked by the birth of the little girl, 
 whom we have just seen to be an inmate of 
 Glendalagh. The smooth river, that watered 
 his field, ran not more placidly and constant- 
 ly than his life of love, which was chequered 
 only by his care for the flocks that supplied 
 his patriarchal board ; till in an unlucky hour, 
 his Evelyn, who shared with him his rustic 
 toil, when following a favourite ewe that had 
 strayed into the woods, chanced to intrude, 
 before she was aware, within the sacred boun- 
 dary of the grove, and became a witness of 
 some of the dreadful mysteries there perform- 
 ed. This was an offence for which nothing 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 ^ SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 could atone, except the initiation of the un- 
 hallowed intruder ; but Evelyn had been so 
 shocked at what she had accidentally seen of 
 this initiation, that she revolted with horror 
 from the proposal. The consequence was, 
 that the dreadful sentence of her excommuni- 
 cation w^as pronounced at the following festi- 
 val of the Samh'in. * This was the formi- 
 dable ^weapon with which the Druids so ri- 
 gorously maintained the terrors of their su- 
 perstition. It excluded the unfortunate per- 
 sons excommunicated from all human aid and 
 intercourse. They could not even procure 
 fire to dress their food, or defend them from 
 the severities of the winter ; at the begin- 
 ning of which the sentence was always appoint- 
 ed to be pronounced. Whoever also assisted 
 the devoted criminal by the slightest service, 
 was from that moment liable to the same pe- 
 nalties and privations, and was cautiously 
 
 * Pronounced Savin, mk having the power of 
 
 Irish words. 
 
 n
 
 SAINT PATRICK, TJ 
 
 avoided as a pestilence, by all tlie faithful fol- 
 lowers ot Druidism. 
 
 Bryan did not press Evelyn to comply 
 with the proposal to which she was so averse, 
 for he had never in his life thwarted her in- 
 clinations ; but he resolved to share her dis- 
 grace, and boldly demanded to be includ- 
 ed in the sentence. His wild resolute air 
 awed even the stern Druid who presided, 
 who half repented that he had not paused 
 before going so far, particularly at this junc- 
 ture, when conciliatory measures were indis- 
 pensable to check the rapid success of the Ca- 
 tholics. Evelyn did not long survive the 
 shock of these proceedings ; for her love of 
 retirement had so grown upon her in the hap- 
 py seclusion she had spent with Bryan, that 
 she would have shrunk even from an ho- 
 nourable public exposure ; but a public 
 disgrace was too much for her suscepti- 
 ble feelings, and she gradually ** pined in 
 thought,"* till death stole her from the sweet 
 
 ♦ Twelfth Night.
 
 28 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 cottage of which she had been the living 
 charm. 
 
 Her death, under such painful circumstan- 
 ces, drove Bryan almost to distraction, and 
 his despair only gave way to the frantic threat- 
 enings of revenge which burst from him in 
 the intervals of his sadness. He could feel, 
 however, his impotence to execute such threats, 
 and he was not carried so madly onward by 
 passion as to hurl his feeble defiance where 
 it could not strike with effect. He did not 
 openly proclaim, " you are my enemy, I am 
 yours." * He curbed his spirit of revenge 
 by the most wary prudence, and resolved to 
 lie in wait to repay the blow, which had so 
 unpityingly widowed him of all that was 
 sweet in the cup of life. 
 
 He perceived, however, that it was too 
 much for his violent feelings to remain where 
 these hated ministers of superstition were so 
 
 ♦ Franklin.
 
 3AINT PATRICK. 29 
 
 frequently crossing his path in his wanderings ; 
 and he was afraid lest he might in some rash 
 moment undo his meditated plan of ven- 
 gence, — ^if we may so term a determined pur- 
 pose which had not yet fixed upon any detail 
 of means. It was painful to him also, though 
 it was a pain he cherished, to linger among the 
 fields, which, now robbed of his Evelyn, were 
 comfortless and dreary. The sunshine look- 
 ed down only upon a solitude, and the flowers 
 appeared as melancholy as the imploring look 
 of an orphan. This poignant grief he could 
 not, with all his strength of mind, have sup- 
 ported, had not his little daughter weaned 
 him by turns from its indulgence by her in- 
 nocent playfulness, which was always bursting 
 through the cloud her father's sadness spread 
 oyer her countenance. Nothing, indeed, but 
 his affection for his child, and his unalterable 
 purpose of vengeance, could now have fettered 
 him to the wretchedness of life. He fancied, 
 that in Norah he saw the youthful portraiture 
 of his Evelyn, when she first stole upon his
 
 30 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 dreams, and he resolved to devote his embit- 
 tered existence to her protection and support. 
 But she also lay under tlie terrible anathema, 
 which for life would continue to haunt her 
 steps with inexorable pertinacity, should he 
 remain in his native Connaught. He aban- 
 doned his home, therefore, and settled in the 
 sequestered spot in Ulster, where we have just 
 found him. In order to mature his plan of 
 revenge, he resolved to join himself to the 
 Catholics, whose cause was triumphantly pro- 
 spering under the preaching of St Patrick, and 
 the protection of king Logaire : he was not 
 aware that the forgiving of injuries was the 
 first thing the Apostle would have taught him 
 to practise. 
 
 The latter part of his resolution he was 
 more dilatory in executing than was usual 
 with him in such cases. His melancholy, in- 
 deed, rendered him averse • to mingle much 
 with men, and he passed one day after another 
 in caressing his lovely child, and sauntering 
 thoughtfully about the woods around his se-
 
 S.llNT PATRICK. 31 
 
 eluded dwelling, and always put off his jour- 
 ney to see the famed Apostle, and enrol him- 
 self among his disciples till some distant 
 period, though his settled revenge only ga- 
 thered strength by being protracted, and 
 stung the keener, as little Norah, '* from pleas- 
 ing day to day,*' •' grew under his eye into a 
 more perfect resemblance of her mother, un- 
 folding all her graces and practising all her 
 virtues. Thus glided by his days inactive, 
 and only diversified yvith an occasional hunt 
 to supply his board with venison, or by the 
 dropping in of a chance traveller to partake 
 of his hospitality. Of this class Camderoch 
 happened of late to rank himself, pretty fre- 
 quently, induced by the fondness of Norah 
 for his songs, and the kind attention which 
 she showed him in return. 
 
 The singular adventure of the harper, now, 
 by good fortune, threw into Bryan's way one 
 
 Gertrude of Wyoming.
 
 S^ SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 means of annoying his enemies, and also of 
 introducing him to St Patrick, who, he had 
 learned, was anxious to obtain these sacred 
 parchments for the purpose of destroying 
 them, and thus preventing the continuance of 
 the superstitions they contained. Bryan easi- 
 ly persuaded the harper, that it would be pro- 
 per to carry the packet to the king, as it 
 might be of more importance than they were 
 aware of, and he offered himself to become 
 the bearer. To this Camderoch was not 
 averse ; for he still feared that its contents 
 were magical, and might bring him into trou- 
 ble ; a suggestion which was nothing quieted 
 by his having lost his way in the woods. So 
 true it is, that he who is imbued with super- 
 stition, can neither have a pleasing remem- 
 brance of the past ; — enjoy the present in 
 peace ; — nor look forward with pleasure to 
 the future. * 
 
 * Cicero de Finibus.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ♦* Glenkindie was ance a harper guid, 
 
 He harped to the king ; 
 And Glenkindie was ance the best harper 
 
 That ever harped on a string. 
 He harped a fish out o' the sa't water. 
 
 And water out o* a stane, 
 And milk out o' a maiden's breast, 
 
 That bairn had never nane." 
 
 Jamieson's Ballads, I. 93. 
 
 It appears, from the motto of this Chapter, 
 that the people of the north country could 
 boast of as wonderful miracles wrought by 
 music, particularly in the case of fish, as those 
 performed by Amphion and Orpheus, in the 
 more genial region* of the east. Is it not 
 strange, after this, that the learned should 
 ever have dreamed themselves into doubt 
 about the existence of fishes' ears, and should, 
 even at present, scarcely credit the profound 
 B 2
 
 9^ SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 researches of Dr Monro, on this useful and 
 important topic ? * . Nay, the mute nations of 
 the North Seas appear to inherit, at this day, 
 the mania for catgut which infected their an- 
 cestors in the days of Glenkindie, if we are 
 to believe Mr Laing, t who avers that the 
 Greenland whalers can ahvays command the 
 spectacle of a fish dance, when there is any 
 body aboard to supply them with music. 
 How unfortunate it is for the good citizens 
 of his Majesty's city of London, that nobody 
 has yet thought of importing a live cargo of 
 said fishes from Spitzbergen, to the boards of 
 Drury-Lane, instead of their present stock of 
 terrier-cats and French magpies. 
 
 Camderoch could not boast of the influence 
 of his harp over the inferior creation, except 
 in sometimes raising a chattering of jays, and 
 
 * Spc an elaborate Treatise on the Anatomy of 
 rishes, by Alexander Monro, M. D. of Edinburgh. 
 f Voyage to Spitzbergen.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 35 
 
 Other similar accompaniments, when he indul- 
 ged in solitary practising in the forests. The 
 trees, in particular, were extremely refractory, 
 and never showed any desire to throw somer- 
 sets, or waltz out of their positions, even at his 
 most overpowering passages : the cause of 
 which insensibility has been lately discovered 
 by an ingenious German craniologist, in ex- 
 amining some remains of the forests of the 
 fifth century, lately dug out of Glendalagh 
 bog, and consists in the total obliteration of a 
 bump ycleped by him the organ of musicabi^ 
 UcalnesSy which he first found most distinctly 
 marked in the Orphean oaks in the Elgin 
 collection. It is probable the Irish woods had 
 lost this important organ, in the times in 
 which we write, as the English had ia the 
 time of Chaucer, who complains that. 
 
 il's go si then many yeres 
 
 That feld had e^en and wode had eres. 
 
 It was no fault of Camderoch's then, it should
 
 36 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 seem, that he was not attended by a chorus 
 of dancing oaks ; and he comforted himself 
 with the reputation he had earned in his suc- 
 cessful appeals to the ears of the genus risi- 
 bile, whose attention and applauses he seldom 
 courted in vain. To-night, however, he was 
 peculiarly unfortunate ; and though he had 
 in some degree set himself to rest respecting 
 his packet, by the arrangement proposed by 
 Bryan, yet he took many a sorrowful look at 
 his unfortunate harp, and began to screw and 
 unscrew the remaining strings, in all the 
 peevishness of discontent. 
 
 But what was his surprise when Norah slipt 
 away to a small apartment her father had late- 
 ly constructed ibr her, and returning with 
 something concealed behind her back, glided 
 by the harper, and dropt at his feet, as if by 
 chance, a fine set of strings she had contrived 
 to procure him, as a present for the songs 
 with which he amused her. He soon forgot 
 his disasters and fatigue, and it was late be- 
 fore he had run over all his favourite airs,
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 37 
 
 which he thought trilled as sweetly along the 
 black smoky rafters of Glendalagh, accom- 
 panied by the artless voice of Norah, as they 
 would have done among the echoes and mur- 
 murs of the Ban. He thought, indeed, his 
 harp had never sounded sweeter, and again 
 the idea of the beautiful stranger flitted 
 through his mind, as having produced on it 
 some mysterious change. 
 
 Biyan, who was himself an adept on the 
 harp, seemed more affected than he had 
 ever seen him before with his music ; for 
 he sometimes appeared wrapt in the ecstacy 
 of melting sounds, with his hands folded, 
 and his eyes motionless, and often would 
 start from his seat, and walk hurriedly about, 
 and at once stop short and sit quietly down 
 again. The truth was, that Bryan did noc 
 hear the music ; his mind was abstracted 
 from every subject but one — the inestimable 
 prize he had got, and the subsequent measures 
 he should pursue in executing on those hated 
 priests the vengeance they had so richly me-
 
 38 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 rited. The minutest details shot with the 
 rapidity of lightning through his fancy ; and 
 ihe whole plan of procedure was instant- 
 ly spread out before him in an imaginary 
 map, whose roads and divisions were, as usual, 
 brilliantly illuminated by the pencil of hope. 
 Camderoch's harping, and Bryan's mu- 
 sings, were soon interrupted by a sudden 
 trampling of horses, and a loud confusion of 
 voices in the wood. As this was a very un- 
 common occurrence, in so remote a place, it 
 appeared to the alarmed group more like the 
 creation of witchcraft than a reality. Cam- 
 deroch, indeed, had no doubt of its being 
 caused by the magic packet ; and Norah, 
 having some indefinite notion of the same 
 kind, indistinctly sprung behind her father, 
 and hung on his arm. Bryan was alarmed, 
 though not intimidated ; he had drunk too 
 deeply of misfortune to quail at any new dan- 
 ger which might threaten him ; yet he mar- 
 velled who could be marching so tumultuous- 
 ly through the woods at this time of night.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 89 
 
 The trampling gradually became more dis- 
 tant, but soon neared again, and the shouts 
 of the riders fell and rose in the forest like 
 the gusts of a tempest. 
 
 In one of these brief pauses, while Bryan 
 had his eye fixed on the door, hesitating whe- 
 ther to sally out to discover who had dared 
 to disturb his privacy, it suddenly burst open, 
 and the beautiful stranger of the Ban rushed 
 wildly into the cabin. The fire on the hearth 
 burned dimly, but the red glow of the embers 
 gave light enough to show that the lady was 
 in a wretched plight. Her long dark hair, 
 which the morning had seen braided with 
 flowers, now hung loose and dishevelled ; and 
 her scarf, which had waved so gracefully to 
 the eye of Camderoch, was now belted around 
 her, to conceal the rents made by the 
 brambles in her robe. 
 
 The inmates of Glendalagh were struck 
 dumb with astonishment at this apparition, 
 and presumed not to accost her : The har- 
 per, indeed, did not recognise the beautiful
 
 40 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 equestrian in the wild figure before hii». 
 There was a deep pause for an instant, dur- 
 ing which the stranger hurriedly perused, by 
 the scanty light, the faces before her ; and 
 finding there nothing to be afraid of, she ven- 
 tured to implore their protection. 
 
 '* I am pursued :'' she said, in a tone of 
 dignified distress: " I am hunted : dare you 
 shield me from my merciless enemies ? If 
 you dare not," she added firmly, ** O pierce 
 this wretched bosom, that I may not fall into 
 their hands ;" and she held out to Bryan a 
 small dagger, and tore away the fold of her 
 robe, wliich lay loose over her breast. " But 
 stay," she continued, loosing a pearl bracelet 
 from her arm, " take this to my father, as a 
 dying memorial, and tell him I have done all 
 a woman could, but all is lost." 
 
 Bryan stood aghast at this strange appeal 
 to his protection : he would not touch the 
 dagger nor the bracelet, as he had already re- 
 solved to protect her at the hazard of his 
 life j for the remembrance of Evelyn always
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 41 
 
 wrung his heart to pity female distress ; but 
 when she mentioned her father, he eagerly 
 asked, 
 
 ** Who is it that's your father, lady, if it 
 isn't no offence to be axing?" 
 
 ** Brassail, the Arch-Druid," she instant- 
 ly answered. — 
 
 It is out of the range of language to ex- 
 press the feelings which this disclosure pro- 
 duced in the mind of Bryan. He was im- 
 plored to protect one of that hated order to 
 whom he imputed all his misfortunes, and had 
 resolved to devote his life to avenge upon 
 them his wrongs. He had it now in his 
 power to repay Hfe for life. His Evelyn had 
 fallen a victim to their superstitious tyranny ; 
 he could now terribly avenge her, by the 
 blood of their superior's daughter. 
 
 Such were his resolutions, the moment the 
 lady pronounced the name of Brassail ; and 
 he furiously grasped the dagger which she 
 held out to him, and with a fiendish joy had 
 his hand elevated to strike the fatal blow,
 
 4^ SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 when Norah sprung forward, crying in th^ 
 most pitying accents, 
 
 *' Oh father dear, do not look so cruel ; O 
 do not kill her ; do not father dear." 
 
 The entreating look of Norah, however, 
 was ill calculated to calm the fury of her fa- 
 ther ; for it brought full on his recollection 
 the dying looks of his injured Evelyn. He 
 pushed the suppliant aside, and sternly said, 
 
 " She murdered your mother, chiP, she 
 shall die. I must revenge my Evelyn." 
 
 Camderoch, meanwhile, had thrown him- 
 self between Bryan and the devoted victim 
 of his revenge, determined to save her from 
 his host's inhumanity ; but although the har- 
 per had not interposed, Bryan would scarce- 
 ly, with all his violence, have perpetrated the 
 horrid deed. He had already relaxed from 
 *' I will " to "I must be revenged." His 
 affection, indeed, for Evelyn had softened the 
 sterner features of his character, which only 
 burst forth when, as now, he was tempest- 
 driven by passion ; and the unshaken and
 
 SAiNT PATRICK. 43 
 
 dignified air of tlie stranger, in the midst of 
 her distress, would assuredly have turned his 
 fury to mercy, even if Camderocli had not 
 appealed to his heart, and enforced his appeal 
 by the law which no Irishman was over known 
 to violate. 
 
 " Dear now," said the good harper, lay- 
 ing his hand on the dagger, ** ye would not 
 stain the floor of Glendalagh with the blood 
 of a stranger ; let alone a woman. Nobody 
 ever know'd the like in ould Erin. Oh be 
 pacified : it would do your heart good just to 
 save the jewel." 
 
 " They murdered my Evelyn," replied 
 Br an, with a sigh. 
 
 ** Oh then, do not, father dear, murder this 
 swate lady," cried Norah, " her father will 
 weep for her " 
 
 Bryan dropt the dagger. He felt a father's 
 fondness, and he could not inflict the grief 
 he had himself experienced, even on an ene- 
 my. 
 
 *< Norah," he sobbed out, ** you are au
 
 4t4t SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 augel of mercy. — Heavens, what a crime I 
 was after committing ! — Lady, my daughter 
 has saved you ! — Oh, the wretch I shud have 
 been! " 
 
 Tlie stranger, during this struggle between 
 passion and principle, seemed unconscious of 
 what was passing around her. The moment 
 that Bryan had taken the dagger, she looked 
 upon her fate as decided, and lifting her eyes 
 to heaven in mild resignation, she awaited the 
 fatal stroke, as if it had been a cure for suffer- 
 m^. As she raised her head in silence, her 
 long loose hair fall back from her face ; but 
 no timid shuddering at death was there. Her 
 dark eyes were fixed and motionless, and her 
 countenance was tranquil as that of a vestal 
 kneeling at the altar, and wrapt iu sublime de- 
 votion. 'Ihe only sigh she heaved from her 
 resigned bosom breathed the name of her be- 
 loved father ; of her own fate she was wholly 
 reckless. 
 
 As soon as Bryan passed from his inhuman 
 purpose, they all surrounded her with looks of
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 45 
 
 kindness, and offers of assistance : even Flan, 
 who had hung about, undecided whether to 
 bark or growl, immediately catching the tone 
 of feeling from the altered look of his master, 
 came fawning to her feet. They speedily 
 got her seated by the warm hearth, and No- 
 rah was proceeding to wring the cold dew 
 from her hair, when the sound of pursuit 
 again broke upon their ear, and seemed to 
 come rapidly nearer. The lady, who, a mo- 
 ment before, had looked calmly on the lifted 
 dagger, at this dreadful sound screamed out, 
 
 '' Oh kill me, in mercy kill me, rather than 
 give me up to their brutality." 
 
 ** What can we do, father ?'* cried Norah, 
 in great alarm, " they are coming fast, fast.'* 
 The little girl, who had derived energy from 
 the danger, paused an instant, as if to com- 
 pose her thoughts, and then running to her 
 father, who also was plunged in a dilemma, 
 she whispered in his ear, ** the bower." 
 
 The word operated on Bryan like a flash 
 of lightning. ** Haste then, Norah, O haste,"
 
 46 SAINT PATRICK:. 
 
 lie said as loud as the fear of being^overheard 
 without allowed him. 
 
 Norah darted to the stranger, seized her 
 hand, and hurried her out of the cabin, while 
 Bryan and Camderoch stood between the 
 door and the hearth, to prevent the glimmer- 
 ing of the embers from betraying them to 
 tiie pursuers. 
 
 The fair fugitives had scarcely left the cabin, 
 when it was surrounded on all sides by the 
 horsemen, one of whom dismounted, and 
 roughly demanded of Bryan, if he had seen 
 a Dniidess wandering near his cabin, and if 
 she had not taken shelter there ? This ques- 
 tion threw him into a most distressing diffi- 
 culty ; for he must either betray the wretch- 
 ed female, whom the most sacred law of hos- 
 pitality now bound him to protect, or do, 
 what to him appeared no less iniquitous — de- 
 ceive them by falsehood. 
 
 Camderoch perceived his perplexity, and 
 shrewdly parried the questioner, by saying, in 
 his simple manner,
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 4? 
 
 ** Troth and it was I that did see a lady 
 all as one as her ; that's this morning in the 
 Ban forest, and a purttier I never seen with 
 my eyes since the days of Eve, only the baste 
 she had under her ; why, it looked, heaven" 
 bless us ! like the fleckering of a harvest sky, 
 that's the dappling on its sides, you know. 
 Well, if it wasn't a right scamperer, you ne- 
 ver seed one." 
 
 The interrogant could hear Camderoch's 
 prosing no longer, and gruffly interinipted him 
 with 
 
 ** Well, hould your jabber, will ye ? and 
 show us where she is skulking now." 
 
 " Is it where she is ?" replied the harper, 
 " Oh, that would be hard enough, if she isn't 
 rid to Ballynish or Tirmorloghan ; and sure 
 it was a baste wud carry her to the world's 
 end and back again, that's barring accidents.'* 
 
 Bryan thought this a proper cue for him, 
 and he immediately struck in with 
 
 " Concience, sur, you shud go to them 
 places, and make a sarch j but you are en-
 
 48 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 tirely wandered, which isn't remarkable, in 
 the dark. If ye'd just houP a bit, till ye'd 
 get somethin' to aet, I wud step out and 
 show you the way as plain, aye, as that hearth 
 there." 
 
 " That he wud rightly, I'll answer for 
 him," said Caraderoch, by way of enforce- 
 ment of the advice. 
 
 The horseman, seeing that he could make 
 nothing more of the respondents, was obliged 
 to accept of Bryan as a guide to the Ballynish 
 road, though both he and his companions af- 
 fir^ned that the fair fugitive had disappeared 
 not far from this very place. They perceived, 
 however, that their pursuit was hopeless, and 
 gave it up with reluctance ; for there was a 
 great reward offered by the king, * — not for 
 the capture of the unfortunate lady, but for 
 the blue packet, which they believed she had 
 still in her possession, and which had occa- 
 sioned their pursuit. 
 
 * Historical.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, 
 
 Tluy war tvva bonny lasses, 
 They biggit a bow'r on yon burn brae, 
 
 All' theekct it o'er wi' rashes. 
 
 Old Song. 
 
 While Camderoch and Biyan were putting 
 every subterfuge in requisition to get rid of 
 the horsemen, Norah had hurried the stran- 
 ger through the wood to ** the bower," glid- 
 ing like a pheasant among the bushes, which 
 immediately closed behind them, and secured 
 them from being traced by any one ignorant 
 of the tangled intricacy of the path. The 
 bower was situated in a romantic little spot, 
 which overhung the brook, at a short distance 
 from the cabin, and garnished the sunshine 
 with the dew of its birches and the fragrance 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 50 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 of its primroses. Midway between the brook 
 and the highest bushes of the brow, was the 
 face of a rock, whose summit was concealed 
 by a thick tissue of ivy, that rooted itself in 
 the chinks, and flaunted its green runners in 
 the air. Below, two venerable elms, on each 
 side of the rock, stretched their cross branches 
 so near to meeting, that a squirrel might have 
 leapt with ease from the one to the other. 
 In front of the elms was a green plat, clear of 
 bushes, whence the windings of the brook 
 could be seen, while it either peeped out 
 among the stones at the foot of the bank, or 
 braided the distant meadows like a silver rib- 
 bon. On each side of this natural parterre, 
 Norah had placed a row of bee-hives under 
 the bushes, where also she had planted such 
 flowers as she knew the bees to prefer, in or- 
 der to beautify their home, and woo them 
 from wandering. * 
 
 * " Hibernia dives lactis ac mellis insula cervorum ve- 
 natii insignis," that is, Ireland abounds in milk and ho-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 51 
 
 To this sweet retreat she delighted to re- 
 sort in the fine days of summer, to watch the 
 ceaseless toil of industiy, and imitate the tiny 
 nation, by working busily among her flowers, 
 or assisting her father to construct new hives 
 for the increasing colony. Here, also, under 
 the shelter of the elms, she had contrived a 
 bower as a retreat from the heat of the sun ; 
 and in this bower she would sit for hours, and 
 listen to her father, as he ran over the often 
 repeated tale of her mother's virtues and un- 
 merited sufferings : and, as she caught his 
 deep sighs on her lips, she would yield up her 
 soul to all the wild luxury of woe. The spot, 
 thus baptized by the tears of filial tenderness, 
 was held sacred by Norah. It had never 
 been profaned by the foot of intrusion, and it 
 was so embosomed in the wood, that no stran- 
 ger would find the way to it through the sur- 
 rounding thickets. The only easy approach 
 
 ney, and is distinguished for the hunting of deer. Ve« 
 nerab. Beda, Eccles. Hist. I. 7. 
 
 UNWERSITY OF 
 jitlNOlS UBRA8Y
 
 52 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 was from the brook, under some tall sloe- 
 trees, whose thickening ranks had withered 
 the lower branches, and left a narrow winding 
 covert way beneath the interweavings of their 
 summits. 
 
 It was through this covert passage that 
 Norah conducted the stranger after shq had 
 threaded her way among the thickets between 
 the cabin and the brook ; and they soon ar- 
 rived at the bee-hives, and gained a snatcht re- 
 spite to breathe from their fright on the turf 
 seats in the bower. The daughter of Brassail 
 forgot her fatigues in the exultation of escape, 
 and Norah's heart beat with alternate throbs 
 of joy and fear, but she was too overawed by 
 the stranger's dignified manner, to venture 
 upon conversation farther than whispered mo- 
 nosyllables. The lady, however, charmed 
 with the kind-hearted exertions of Norah for 
 her safety, thought it her duty to disclose the 
 cause of the events that had thrown her into 
 so imminent peril, and the rather as she had 
 not had leisure to inform Bryan himself, who
 
 SAINT rATUICK. 
 
 53 
 
 had a right to know why she had l)een driven 
 under his roof. 
 
 She briefly told her sylvan guide, accord- 
 ingly, that King Logaire, by the advice of St 
 Patrick, had sent a party to seize on the sacred 
 Druidical parchments lately deposited at Tra- 
 looney grove, '^ and intrusted to her care by 
 her father, the Arch-Druid. Of the approach 
 of this party she had only received intelli- 
 gence when they were within a mile of the 
 grove, and had consequently been compelled 
 to seek her safety in flight, cariying with her 
 the sacred parchments, and expecting to escape 
 with them to her father, wlio was in the North. 
 She had been accompanied from Tralooney 
 by all her retainers, well mounted, yet, with 
 all their expedition, Logaire's party had over- 
 taken them beyond the Ban, and she had es- 
 caped alone, during the skirmish that ensued. 
 In crossing the river, her palfrey had taken 
 fright, and, in endeavouring to keep her seat, 
 
 * Historical.
 
 54f SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 she had unfortunately dropt the parchments, 
 which had cost her so much anxiety and alarm. 
 When she perceived her loss, she had instant- 
 ly turned back, but she could ill retrace her 
 path in the mazes of the forest, and she had 
 wandered about, almost distracted at the un- 
 lucky event, till evening was closing around 
 her, when she had been seen at a distance by 
 her pursuers, after they had routed her at- 
 tendants : and, although her steed was fleet, 
 yet, from her ignorance of the tracks, she had 
 found it imjossible to save herself, except by 
 abandoning it, and escaping into the under- 
 wood, where the horsemen could neither dis- 
 cover her in the dark, nor follow her with 
 their horses. 
 
 From her concealment among the bushes^ 
 she had seen the light of the cabin-fire peering 
 through the trees, and, as she heard the trample 
 of her pursuers' horses dying away in the dis- 
 tance, she had resolved to throw herself on 
 the forester's mercy. 
 
 Norah was not aware of her father's inten-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 55 
 
 tions respecting the packet, and, if she had, 
 would at this momefnt have scorned to adopt 
 them, so high did her warm heart beat with 
 generosity ; and her joy at the tidings she 
 had to give melted her to more familiarity 
 than she had yet used to her high-born guest, 
 as she eagerly said, 
 
 ** Oh safe and sure it is, dear, every pins- 
 worth, at the cabin : how lucky ! Didn't oul* 
 Camderoch stummle on it just at the edge of 
 the forest, as he toul' us. Stop here a bit, 
 and I'll run and bring it to you in no time at 
 all," and she rose hastily to go to the cabin. 
 The idea of restoring the packet had driven 
 from her memory all thoughts of her fair 
 guest's pursuers. The lady reminded her of 
 the danger, and she again seated herself 
 thoughtfully on the turf-seat to consider what 
 to do ; for, snug as the bower was in a sum- 
 mer's morning, or ** when the young May 
 moon was beaming" * through the leafy arch, 
 
 ♦ Irish Melodies.
 
 56 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 to-night the chill of the closing autumn hung 
 comfortless from the boughs, and the cold 
 dew rained from the leaves at every repeated 
 gust of the niocht breeze. 
 
 The alarms that had so rudely assailed the 
 pretty bower-maid had seiTed rather to make 
 her too fearless than to paralyze her activity, 
 which her success in saving her guest had also 
 tended to increase. On considering, there- 
 fore, the uncomfortable situation of her illus- 
 trious protegee, she resolved to return to the 
 cabin, to see if it would yet be safe to leave 
 their concealment ; and, if not, to procure a 
 supply of warm furs, as the only attainable 
 substitute for a cheerful seat at the hearth 
 corner. — Norah found the harper alone, her 
 father having gone to direct the horsemen to 
 Ballynish. She waited no longer than she 
 obtained this intelligence — flew back to the 
 bower, and had the lady snugly placed by the 
 warm hearth ** in no time at all,'* as she had 
 exultingly promised. 
 
 But the joy of the Druidess, when Norah
 
 SAINT PATRICK, 57 
 
 produced the packet, completely unbent her 
 spirits, and she fixed on it the vacant gaze of 
 overpowering emotion. Camderoch's mind 
 was also unnerved, between his dread of her 
 displeasure for carrying it off, and his glad- 
 ness at being the means of restoring it in 
 safety. 
 
 The loss of the inestimable packet had ne- 
 ver entered into the thoughts of Bryan, when 
 he quelled his rising revenge, and shehered 
 the forlorn Druidess, otherwise he would, in 
 all likelihood, have made a second pause to 
 bethink himself how to act. He did not, in- 
 deed, imagine, more than Camderoch, that 
 their pursued guest was the beautiful eques- 
 trian who had dropt the packet at the Ban. 
 This was the first news, however, which greet- 
 ed him at his return, and it filled his mind 
 with undisguisable disappointment. But there 
 was no alternative : he had pledged her his 
 protection, — the packet was her indisputable 
 property, — and even his gloomy desire of ven- 
 geance could not overset his high principles of 
 c 2
 
 58 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 honour ; much less could the dawning spirit of 
 avarice, that had begun to creep into his plans 
 for securing the future welfare of his Norah, 
 induce him to claim the king's reward by 
 giving up the stranger's packet. " Considera- 
 tion, like an angel, came, and whipt the of- 
 fending Adam out of him." ♦ " Evelyn," he 
 said to himself, " wudn't done such a thing, 
 the angel, for her life ; and can I be the vil- 
 lain to be doing the like ?" 
 
 Bryan thus gave up to the firm principle 
 which the example of Evelyn had rooted in 
 his mind, all the advantages of which a vil- 
 lain would readily have availed himself; but 
 though he reined his passion in obedience to 
 the superior claim of hospitality, it raged as 
 fiercely as ever against the hated Druids. 
 The daughter of Brassail was under his pro- 
 tection, and had a right to the kindness he 
 forced himself to show her ; the other ad- 
 herents of Druidism stood in hostile territory, 
 
 * Henry the Fourth.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 59 
 
 and were legitimate objects of attack, and he 
 now resolved to delay his design no longer. 
 His bloodier purposes of vengeance, however, 
 insensibly faded into milder measures, when 
 he thought of the misfortunes of his fair guest, 
 and he began to brood with most delight on 
 plans to assist the Catholics in extirpating the 
 infernal superstition, rather than to meditate 
 vengeance against its ministers. He could 
 not bring himself to believe, that the digni- 
 fied female who had claimed his protection, 
 and who seemed to move amidst her misfor- 
 tunes, superior to their frown, could ever lend 
 her acquiescence to such measures of persecu- 
 tion as had bitterly robbed his cottage of all 
 its enchantment. The lady, in truth, by her 
 forlorn look, and particularly by her calm re- 
 signation, had, in some measure, identified 
 herself in his fancy w^ith the image of the suf- 
 fering Evelyn, and occasioned in his mind a 
 contest of the most opposing passions. The 
 shading of the parallel was deepened by tlie 
 beauty of the Druidess, which even the scowl
 
 60 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 of disaster could not conceal, for, though it 
 had clouded the sweetness that dwelt on her 
 cheek, it still gave an interesting wildness to 
 her dark eyes. 
 
 Her troubles were not over with the re- 
 treat of her pursuers ; for soon after her re- 
 turn from the bower to the cabin, she dis- 
 covered, with horror, that her protectors were 
 under the curse of excommunication, and that 
 the fire which warmed her had either been 
 unhallowedly purloined, or unlawfully struck 
 by the hand of impiety from the sacred flint ; 
 for otherwise such persons could not have 
 procured it. Such she had been taught from 
 hifancy to regard with superstitious abhor- 
 rence, and the fatal discovery had nearly 
 crushed all the fortitude she had hitherto put 
 forth. Not the lifted dagger itself which 
 Biyan had pointed to her breast appalled her 
 so much as to be wanned by this unhallowed 
 fire, and to receive offices of kindness from 
 these unhallowed foresters. So strong were 
 her prejudices rivetted, that the sternness of
 
 SAINT PATRICK. ' 6l 
 
 misfortune, which often has power to break 
 the most unyiekling fetters of the mind, made 
 no impression upon this iron cincture of su- 
 perstition, and she could not help shuddering 
 when she thought that the kind-hearted girl, 
 whose activity had saved her from her bru- 
 tal pursuers, was under the dreadful anathema 
 of her religion. 
 
 But, on her own account, her feelings were 
 slight, compared with her anxiety for the sa- 
 cred packet, which she dreaded was irrecover- 
 ably polluted. She could purify herself by 
 the usual lustration ; but no form was pre- 
 scribed for purifying these sacred symbols of 
 the mysteries, as their falling into the hands 
 of the profane had never been contemplated 
 as possible. She looked upon this, according- 
 ly, as the most dreadful thing which had be- 
 fallen her, and it rendered her anxious to set 
 out instantly to her father, to consult what 
 was to be done. 
 
 Bryan, glad to be released from the con- 
 straint which shackled him, and from the
 
 62 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 contending feelings which racked his mind, 
 did not oppose her departure ; but Norah felt 
 more than she expressed, at thoughts of part- 
 ing with the only accomplished individual of 
 her own sex she had ever seen. She forgot 
 her mother's wrongs, so carefully imprinted 
 on her memory by her father, and thought 
 only of the fascinating manners and conversa- 
 tion of the Druidess, secretly wishing to ac- 
 company her in her journey, though she knew 
 it was impossible. 
 
 By good luck the lady's palfrey was found 
 in the wood near Glendalagh, and no difficul- 
 ty remained, except the want of an escort. 
 Not but that a lady, without a single attend- 
 ant, might then have travelled in safety 
 through the wildest parts of Ireland, trusting 
 merely to the honour of her countrymen, and 
 so could the Druidess, had it not been for the 
 proscribed packet, which her pursuers had 
 learned she had secured, and was carrying to 
 her father. She resolved, however, to go at all 
 hazards, rather than remain under the unhal-
 
 SAINT PATRICK, 63 
 
 lowed roof of Glendalagh. But with all her 
 superstitious horror, she was not insensi- 
 ble to the kindness she had experienced, and 
 could not find words strong enough to ex- 
 press her gratitude for what at least had 
 been done with good intention. She bade 
 adieu to the hospitable inmates of the cabin, 
 and once more mounted her steed to pursue 
 her perilous journey.
 
 64 
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Twixt his two mighty armes him up he snatcht, 
 And crusht his carcas so against his hrest 
 That the disdaignfull sowle he thence dispatcht, 
 And th' ydle brealh all utterly exprest: 
 Tho* when he felt him dead, adowne he kest 
 The lumpish corse unto the senceless ground ; 
 Adowne he kest it with so puissant wrest, 
 That backe againe it did aloft rebownd, 
 And gave against his mother earth a groncfull sownd.*' 
 Spenser's Faery Queene. 
 
 The old harper's mind was so filled with 
 the occurrences which had taken place, that 
 he was in no haste to resume his wanderings, 
 particularly as he thought he owed Norah a 
 double portion of his music jn lieu of the 
 strings she had so opportunely given him. 
 One evening as he had taken his usual seat at 
 the hearth corner, and was playing one of his 
 sweetest airs, Flan, who, according to invari-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 65 
 
 able custom, had laid himself down to sleep at 
 the foot of the harj), all on a sudden raised 
 his eyes, and pricked up his ears, setting up a 
 cry somewhat between a bark and a howl, as 
 if he had been struck with the full sound of 
 the harmony. Bryan, however, understood 
 his language more correctly than the musi- 
 cian, and was not to be deceived, when Flan 
 started up, and sprung to the door. " Some 
 other fugitive," thought he, " com'd to disturb 
 us ; if this is'nt getting as public as the palace 
 itself, I'm not a true Irishman, and haunted 
 we are sure by them base sorcerers. Well, I 
 sha'n't be stopping another day here to be so 
 bothered, that's if .the morrow was com'd 
 once't." 
 
 Flan, during this mental muttering of his 
 master, Iiad begun to ring out his loudest 
 bark of alarm, and had taken his watch post 
 at the door to be ready " in case there'd be 
 nade." Bryan, in whom the late occurrences 
 had awakened all his " ranckled ire," * which 
 
 * S})eiiscr.
 
 66 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 had been only slumbering in order to gather 
 strength, could at this instant think of no in- 
 truder, except some other Druid or Druidess 
 again come to disturb his retirement, and he 
 was determined most irrevocably not to permit 
 a second sacrilegious pollution of his floor, 
 for such he deemed the shelter he had been 
 compelled to afford to the daughter of Brassail. 
 To prevent the entrance of the wanderer, 
 therefore, whom Flan had announced, Bryan 
 seized a pine torch, and went out to recon* 
 noitre. The moment he opened the door, 
 the dog darted past him with vehemence, and 
 was beyond his cry before he could recal him. 
 On listening he heard a confused noise, which 
 he thought resembled most the stifled groans 
 of a person strangling. He rushed with his 
 pine torch toward the quarter whence the 
 noise came, but it suddenly ceased, and he 
 found himself at fault till the dog came pant- 
 ing to him, all besmeared with blood. It led 
 him to a tree in the wood, against which he 
 saw a person leaning his arm and his head as
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 67 
 
 if through faintness. On going nearer, he 
 found a monstrous wolf lying dead, and 
 mangled beside him, and the shattered pieces 
 of a hunting spear scattered on the grass. 
 The hunter appeared of goodly form and 
 strength, and besides his spear, now broken, 
 he was armed with a bow and arrows. 
 
 " Conscience, sur,** says Bryan, ** it*s a 
 wicked struggle that ye had there, and never 
 a boy to help ye, as there wasn't only myself 
 and Flan, and we weren't in time ye sae." 
 
 " Struissle sey ye freen'," replied the hun- 
 ter in a broad Caledonian accent, and still 
 breathing thick, " the vile brute had 'maist 
 war't me, but I trou I hae gi'en him what 
 he'll no cast the call o' ; he'll no green tae 
 forgether wi' me again I'se be bail. Na, na, 
 young as 1 am, I hae seen o'er mony banes 
 breakins to be worried this gate, though the* 
 war' mae o' them." 
 
 Bryan, although sometimes resolute enough, 
 rather shrunk back when he saw the still un- 
 quenched fire flashing from the eyes of the
 
 68 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 youth. His warm spirit of hospitality pre- 
 vailed, however, when he found from his ac- 
 cent that the stranger was from the Christian 
 land,^'" and advancing some paces nearer, he 
 said, with a frankness peculiarly Irish, 
 
 " Why, bless my heart, if ye aren't as 
 brave a boy now as ever I seen aleive^ and 
 welcome ye are sure to Glendalagh, and Norah 
 dear will make ye snug and clane, I'll answer 
 for't, though herself isn't here to spake." 
 
 " Sweet be wi' us," replied the Caledo- 
 nian, *' are ye Bryan o' Glendalagh ?" and 
 passing over his " struissle" as if it had been 
 a common occurrence, he ran off to a subject 
 about which he had come expressly to speak 
 to Bryan — the escape of the Druidess.. ** Ye 
 dinna ken aiblins," he continued, " that ye're 
 the vera man I was tae speer for ? An unco' 
 hillyballoo at the Place yonner an' ye heard it 
 
 * Scotland was Christianized several years before 
 Ireland, as we learn from Adomnanus in Vit. S. Co- 
 iumb. Be da, and other early writers.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 69 
 
 muii, about thae Diniids an' a wheen aul' 
 paerchmeiits that they work their warlock can- 
 trips wi'. — But Pm daft to haud ye clavering 
 out i'the cauld here ony Janger ; sin ye're 
 Biyan, I'll gang in-bye wi' ye an' tell ye a' 
 about it." 
 
 " Troth and ye couldn't now for your life 
 been as lucky as at this present," says Brj^an. 
 ** The bit of venison Ylun chipt in the forest 
 isn't coul' yet, and as nice a jug of ale you'll 
 have as all Ulster couldn't show the better 
 of, that's if it isn't mead." * 
 
 " Mony braw thanks tae ye, mun," return- 
 ed the Caledonian, *' for your kind offer. Eh, 
 but you Eerish folk are warm-hearted chiels 
 whun a's done ; ane wad never ken they're 
 frae hame amang yc." 
 
 ** Is it the ale ye mane ?" returned Bryan. 
 " By dad, I wish't it were mead ; but it 
 
 _ * Their abundance of honey supplied them uith 
 mead, which was a fiivourite liquor iu thoie days.
 
 70 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 touches Norah so only about the bees the 
 creatures, her heart cudn't stan' it, consider. 
 * Norah,' says I, when I reached her the 
 swates, * why do ye cry, chil' ? Is it the bees 
 ye're thinking on ?' ' Oh, father dear,' says 
 she, * wudn't it be cruel hard now, wad the 
 king take away our little cabin for good and 
 all, and lave us to be starving and dying in 
 the coul' ? and ye have driv' them bees, that 
 hummed so purttily among the flowers in 
 summer, to black ruination father.' Indeed 
 and indeed, sur, it touch'd myself abit to sae 
 the chip cry, and I wudn't be after vexing 
 her in no respect." 
 
 This conversation brought them to the cabin, 
 w^here the Caledonian was heartily welcomed 
 and kindly entertained. He appeared, when 
 lie came into the light, to be covered with 
 blood, but fortunately had received no dan- 
 gerous wound. He broke his spear, he said, 
 at the very beginning of the encounter, and 
 had at last to trust to his own strength and 
 dexterity. He had luckily caught the ani-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 71 
 
 mal by the throat when making a spring 
 at him, and had grasped it so firmly, that he 
 believed he had nearly ** exprest the ydle 
 breath," when Flan run in and assisted him 
 to complete his victory, by tearing it fiercely 
 with his tusks. While he was going over his 
 encounter with the wolf, Camderoch, who al- 
 ways liked to be employed, began to fit a 
 fresh shaft into the head of the spear, which 
 the hunter had been cool enou^-h to bring; off 
 from the field, and Norah was arranging the 
 promised repast. At the conclusion of the 
 narration Bryan exclaimed, 
 
 " Ah, brave he is to the bone, evei7 inch 
 of him, Norah. — Don't be sparing the veni- 
 son, sur, isn't there more in the forest good 
 or bad, and hungry ye shud be with the fight- 
 ing, consider." 
 
 " Atweel I wat it was a gay bit warsle 
 after a'," replied the Caledonian, *' and I 
 shuck ma pock clean toom, it did I, at twal- 
 hour's time, but hunters sud ne'er compleen 
 o' hunger j — sees ye [pointing to the venison]
 
 7^ SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 how Providence provides for us whun we're 
 no thinking o't.*' 
 
 *' True for you," said Camderoch, ** and 
 didn't myself come pop on Glendalagh here 
 all at once, never thinking on a ha'p'orth, 
 only on the broken twangers, you know." 
 
 Norah was restrained by bashfulness from 
 speaking directly to Angus, her Caledonian 
 guest, but willing to draw his notice, address- 
 ed herself to the harper with a request that 
 he would give the stranger a specimen of his 
 native music. Bryan hinted that it should be 
 short, as he wished " to spake to the boy con- 
 sarning them things he had been after min- 
 tioning, and it woidn't be convanient to spake, 
 only were it unknown'st to every body." 
 
 Camderoch was busy tuning his harp, and 
 either not heaiing or not pretending to hear 
 the injunction, struck up Gala-na-Mhogue, 
 and by dints of nods and signs to Norah, got 
 her to place herself behind the harp, and being 
 thus screened to take up the song at the se- 
 cond bar, although her voice trembled sadly,
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 75 
 
 not from affectation, but from that timidity 
 which was natural to a girl of fifteen who had 
 lived secluded from the world. Angus was 
 so chaimed with *' the rapture of sweet sound," 
 that Bryan could not get a word from him 
 about " the hillyballoo at the Place.'* The 
 old hai-per, however, soon began to yield to 
 the attacks of sleep. His fingers faltered lan- 
 guidly over the strings, his head nodded like 
 a broken shamrock in a breeze, and at last he 
 actually dropped his chin on the comer of the 
 harp, and struck in with an accompaniment 
 which drowned " the dying fall'* * of the 
 strings in its sonorous reverberations through 
 all parts of the cabin. Norah rather peevish- 
 ly obeyed her father, and withdrew to her 
 little apartment, determined, however, to use 
 her ears, having a powerful curiosity to know 
 " consaming them sacrets." 
 
 " By dad,'* says Bryan, " gone they are 
 
 * Twelfth Night, sub iniU 
 VOL, U D
 
 7^1? SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 now clane : wud ye plase to mintion, if it's I 
 that can be doing any bit of a jab about them 
 Druids dear ? But I'm afeard it's what I can't 
 at all at all, bad luck to me." 
 
 " Stey a wee till ye hear," replied Angus, 
 " ye dinna ken what ye'll can do yet. Ye 
 see the king's no that slack whun he taks a 
 thing by the en', an' he's been in an unco 
 anger at thir Druids as I tell't ye, for ye'll 
 no hinner them frae spoonging through a' 
 places tae tak awa folk tae their wild benfires, 
 the deevils ; and what craws in his crappin 
 sairest ava is, that afore this bruilzie they 
 glawm'd at a' thing about the place like as 
 mony corbies, an* were ey sae ready tae come 
 in ahint the haun, that naebody hand affthem- 
 sels could get feen't belickit o' ony guid that 
 was gawn. But the king, fair fa' him, has 
 sained himsel by a' that's guid, to clear the 
 cuintrie o' the rapscallions, and whun heance 
 says a thing ye may as weel ding o'er Aelsa- 
 craig as pit him frae't. Now the' hae been 
 ye see a hantle o' wark back and for'at about
 
 feAINT PATRICK. 75 
 
 the canniest vvey tae get the better 0' them, 
 and at lang an' the length our St Patrick pro- 
 posed to get a baud o' their cantrips first and 
 foremost, * and the king jumpet in wi* him at 
 ance, and sent the ither coon sellers a' away 
 hingin their faiple." 
 
 " By dad/' interrupted Bryan, " he's a 
 right boy, and more rason he has in his own 
 head nor ever a mother's son of them. Ah I it's 
 himself, sure, that can sturr when there'd be 
 nade. But I ax pardon, I wudn't be inter- 
 mpting you only for speaking a bit of my 
 mind consaniing the king, long life to him." 
 
 Angus resumed, '* As ye say, Bryan, he's 
 e'en a gay lang-headed fallow, let them say's 
 they like: its no that done easy to blin his e'e 
 wi' a blawflum. — Weel, as I was saying, they 
 sent aff tae Tralooney tae get a claught o' the 
 warlock paerchments, but a pauky hizzy that 
 had the keeping o' them got a glint 0' our chaps 
 
 * Historical.
 
 76 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 afore the haun, — wheepet awa in a jiffy, — 
 an* left a wheen o' her ain folk tae shuffle the 
 brog, till she wan afF hale scart hersel* bag 
 and baggage. Aweel, whun they saw that 
 apen force wad do nae guid, St Patrick avised 
 tae come about them sleeketly, gin ony ae 
 body could be fun' it wad try ^tae harry the 
 byke his lane. An' wi' that he tell't them a 
 story as lang's your airm o' what he had 
 heard o' you, an' the death o' your gudewife, 
 an* how keen ye war tae gie the warlocks kail 
 o* their ain groats : — safe us, a body wad 
 think he get's wit o' ilka thing it apens an* 
 steeks. Sae I was ca'd in tae the praesence, 
 and sent awa aff* loof tae speer ye out, an* 
 bring ye tae speak tae the muckle fo'k : an* 
 mirk's it was I wad' a fun' ye gin that ill- 
 fa'r'd brute hadna come rumpaugin through 
 the wud at me." 
 
 It is no easy matter to describe Bryan's 
 sensations when he found that his schemes 
 were thus anticipated, but how the illustrious 
 Apostle could have learned his story, and his
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 77 
 
 very intentions, was a mystery he could not 
 unravel, and he immediately referred it to his 
 intercourse with heaven, which was univer- 
 sally reported and believed, and tended not 
 a little to further his mission. He did 
 not recollect, that the wandering harper, 
 who so frequently shared his hospitality, was 
 the common news-carrier from Colraine to 
 Donaghadee, the boundaries of his musical 
 and gossiping peregrinations, and had been 
 busy to circulate Bryan's history in propor- 
 tion to his growing attachment for the seclud- 
 ed cottagers of Glendalagh. Nor did he 
 know of the anxious inquiries that St Patrick 
 made into eveiy occurrence in which these 
 Pagan priests were in any manner concerned, 
 in order that he might discover the vulnerable 
 points of their superstition, and ply his Christ- 
 ian weapons to the best advantage. 
 
 What he had heard of Bryan's history sug- 
 gested him as a proper person to employ in 
 any design against the Druids which requir- 
 ed secrecy and determined hostility. The
 
 78 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 obtaining the mystical parchments was such ; 
 and as their open attempt had failed, some 
 trusty individual ought to be employed to 
 trace and secure them, and nobody was better 
 fitted for this, according to the Saint's intelli- 
 gence, than Bryan. The choice was the wis- 
 est that could have been made ; for Bryan 
 was no less shrewd than he was enterprising 
 and determined. The Apostle, indeed, like 
 all great political revolutionists, ha;d a keen 
 penetration in selecting persons the best qua- 
 lified to execute his various designs. 
 
 We need scarcely say that Byran agreed 
 to accompany Angus next morning, and to 
 leave Norah under the protection of the har- 
 per till his return. Accordingly, they pre- 
 pared to refresh themselves for their journey 
 by sleep. It was the custom in those days to 
 sleep on benches covered with skins placed 
 round the hearth, and Bryan accommodated 
 theOaledonian with the one which Norah 
 had prepared for Camderoch, for the good 
 man was still quietly reposing with his head
 
 SAINT PATRICK, 79 
 
 resting upon his harp, and was dreaming of 
 magic and the beautiful Druidess, and the 
 great St Patrick, whom his fancy represented 
 as dissipating in a thin bkie smoke all the 
 spells of wicked priests and magicians. Bryan 
 was too full of his projects to have the honour 
 of a visitation from the Goddess of Slumber ; 
 and Norah was no less wakeful, thinking of 
 the most graceful costume she could appear 
 in before the stranger ere he departed in the 
 morning. She decided to adorn her hair with 
 a wreath of flowers, such as the harper had 
 described that of the fair Druidess, and re- 
 solved to be abroad betimes to procure them. 
 She recollected, that, late as it was in the sea- 
 son, daisies were still to be had, and she did 
 not despair of meeting with a sprig of mea- 
 dow-sweet, or of some late blowing honey-suc- 
 kle.
 
 ?0 SAINT PATRICK- 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 *' Happy the first of men ere yet confin'd 
 To smoky cities ; who, in sheltering groves, 
 Warm caves, and deep sunk vallies, livM and lov*d.** 
 
 Wartoji. 
 
 At an early hour next morning, while it 
 was still dark, Bryan stole out to examine the 
 face of the sky, that he might take prognos- 
 tications from the rising of the morning star 
 of what was likely to be the consequences or 
 his journey. It is hardly necessary to say, 
 that the signs were all favourable ; for as he 
 wished them to be so, he could easily supply 
 deficiencies by fancy ; and explain away, by 
 dexterous self-deception, whatever might seem 
 unfortunate. From these conjectural calcu- 
 lations, his imagination carried him to the 
 wildest castle-building. He anticipated his^
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 81 
 
 success, in aiding the downfall of Druidism, 
 and no less in securing for his beloved daugh- 
 ter a happy espousal ; and lost in thought, he 
 wandered a considerable way along the side 
 of the brook, and was not reminded of his 
 distance from the cabin till he came to a crag, 
 at whose foot the stream formed a deep pool, 
 w^hich barred his farther progress. Several 
 patches of shrubs were scattered over the face 
 of the crag, and among these, a beautiful 
 mountain ash, loaded with ripe berries, caught 
 his eye. But what was his astonishment 
 when he saw his little Norah perched like a 
 wood-pigeon on the furthest bough of an old 
 filbertbush, which hung creaking over the pool. 
 He could scarcely credit his sight, and durst 
 not speak lest he should alarm her, which 
 might be hazardous in such a situation. He 
 was sure it was Norah ; and when he saw her 
 foolishly suspending all his deep laid plans for 
 her future welfare on the strength of an old 
 filbert bush, he could with difficulty restrain 
 his emotion. Her very rashness, however,
 
 8^' SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 saved her ; for she fearlessly swung from one 
 branch to another, till she got sure footing 
 on a projecting part of the rock, whence she 
 perceived her terrified father, and ran joyfully 
 to meet him with a small bunch of honey-suc- 
 kles, to procure which she had exposed herself 
 to so much peril. 
 
 *' Bless my heart, chil'," cried Byran, 
 ** what was it in heaven driv' you to be expos- 
 ing yourself on them rocks ? Couldn't ye keep 
 asy at the cabin, and not be every minit after 
 such dangerous projects ? You'll certainly be 
 kilt, past recovery, one day soon." 
 
 ** Father dear, now," replied she, hang- 
 ing back sorrowfully, " isn't it cruel hard 
 for you to scoul' and scoul' so, when ye 
 sae I never do the valye of a pin's worth, if 
 it isn't to plaseyou ! And there's the making of 
 a flower band, because you bid me look naet, 
 but I won't have none of it, when you are so 
 cross ;" and she peevishly threw down the 
 flowers, of which she had an instant before
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 83 
 
 been so proud, while the tear started into her 
 eye. 
 
 This was what her father could not stand, 
 " as he cudn't be after vexing her in no re- 
 spect ;'* and matters were easily made up by a 
 forgiving kiss. They got back to the cabin 
 before either Angus or Camderoch were stir- 
 ring. 
 
 Norah's first care was to stock two goat- 
 skin wallets with provisions for the travellers ; 
 and she contrived, amid the bustle of these 
 preparations, to find leisure for tastefully a- 
 dorning her hair with the honey-suckles be- 
 fore their departure ; but I shall not deter- 
 mine, whether it was owing to this, or to the 
 freshness which the morning air had ripened 
 on her cheek, that Angus stole several timid 
 glances at her, when he thought he was unob- 
 served. Perhaps his adventure with the wolf, 
 and his momentous embassy, had hitherto en- 
 grossed his thoughts too much to allow him 
 to be awake to any other impression. If this 
 excuse be deemed invalid, he was the most
 
 Sif SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 culpable of men for not running headlong 
 into the most frantic love. Norah, as in duty 
 bound, by the laws of romance, thought An- 
 gus the handsomest youth she had ever seen, 
 though, to say the truth, her acquaintance 
 with the sex was not extensive. 
 
 The shrewd Bryan soon perceived the cau- 
 tious peeping that was going on, but had not yet 
 advanced to a mutual understanding and in- 
 terchange of melting looks, and was pleased 
 to see his Norah attracting the attention of 
 one who was accustomed to see the beauties 
 of the court, yet he was too anxious to begin 
 his own operations to indulge them farther. 
 Norah, however, peeped from behind the cor- 
 ner of the cabin, till they were beyond the 
 peak of the crag, and had she been sure of es- 
 caping observation, she would even have £oU 
 lowed and climbed the peak to prolong her 
 view, but she blushed to think that the harper 
 might see her, and she went back into the ca- 
 bin *'with leaden eye that loves the ground."* 
 
 Gray<
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 85 
 
 The king was at this time at one of his 
 hunting stations in the mountains, and thither 
 accordingly our travellers bent their steps. 
 Bryan was charmed with the varied aspect the 
 country assumed as they advanced, so very 
 different from the beautiful level tracts of 
 woodlands and meadows around Glendalagh, 
 and strikingly like his native Connaught* 
 Every stream, indeed, that dashed its foam over 
 the rocks, and every hill that towered above 
 him, recalled some youthful association which 
 lingered sweetly in his bosom ; and even the 
 deep gullies and rugged defiles through which 
 they had to pass, were to him more charming 
 than the green levels of the Ban covered with 
 flowers, fresh with the dew of spring, and glit- 
 tering in the morning sun. 
 
 The figure of Bryan, indeed, as well as his 
 mind, was more in unison with the scenery of 
 mountains than of plains. He was tall and 
 bony, with a countenance rendered so lank 
 and haggard by grief, that it may not be un- 
 aptly compared to the face of a cliif scathed
 
 86 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 with lightning. Around it a large quantity 
 of strong black hair hung down to his shoul- 
 ders like bunches of withered grass ; and his 
 conical fur cap* set on one side, had no distant 
 resemblance to the top of a larch half over- 
 turned by the wind. The Caledonian also 
 was by no means an incongruous figure in the 
 picture, though his blooming youth and good- 
 ly form made him seem (if we may continue 
 to Ossianize) more like a mountain on the 
 first dawn of creation, before the torrents had 
 furrowed its green slopes, or the storms broken 
 the regular cone of its summit, than to any 
 of th objects which appeared in this roman- 
 tic wilderness of rocks, and torrents, and moun- 
 tain forests. 
 
 Their journey, which was not a short one, 
 was solitary enough, as all the people had fol- 
 lowed the king ; but they found, that the 
 hunters h.id not completely scoured the tract 
 
 * See Walker's Irish Bards.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 87 
 
 they had gone through ; for wild goats were 
 everywhere seen skipping among the cliffs, and 
 deer arching their necks from the openings to 
 examine the intruders before they retreated 
 to remoter haunts. The hawks and falcons 
 also wheeling in noiseless circles above the 
 woods, indicated that they had marked out 
 some quarry to pounce upon, and their screams 
 betokened no friendly greeting to the intruders, 
 who now daringly molested " their solitary 
 reign." * 
 
 *' Ah, isn't this the right country ?'* said 
 Bryan, on seeing a head of deer scamper away 
 into the forest, ** and them mountains are as 
 like as two peas to my own dear Connaught. 
 Why, when I was a big lump of a boy, I kept 
 hunting every minit over rocks all as one as 
 that where you sae them goats skipping, and 
 sorrow a bit of bother in life ever bothered me 
 at all at all, and shudn't yet, only for my dear 
 Evelyn that's dead, heaven rest her, and bad 
 
 Gray.
 
 88 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 luck to the spalpeens that were the murder- 
 ing of her." 
 
 Angus sympathized with the feelings of his 
 companion for his bitter loss, but he had ra- 
 ther a diflPerent notion of a mountainous region 
 from Bryan, though he was more pleased with 
 the scene before them, than with extensive 
 plaint and level forests : — *' but naething ava 
 thu','* he observed, " tae Drumalbin, whar the 
 vera cluds didna gang high eneugh to cuir 
 their taps, and the hottest bensii o' the sin in 
 the lang days o' simmer can har'ly thow a 
 hue o' the snaw that lies sae bonny and white 
 on them, just like a lamb woo' plaid ; an' then 
 there's Ben Lomond, I tell ye man, your Sle- 
 mish is but a midge till't ; and the braw loch 
 aside't clean dings ony I hae seen here awa 
 yet. Your Loch Neagh tae be sure's muckle 
 eneugh, and gin it had twae'ree mae isles 
 strinkled through't, and a rangel o' hills roun't 
 tae baud in the water, and look neighbour like, 
 it might do after a' for an Eerish loch." Boc-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 89 
 
 eaccio would have said, " quanto rico d'acque, 
 tanto povero d'onor." 
 
 Bryan did not much relish this libel on his 
 lakes and mountains, but he was in no hu- 
 mour to retaliate, and merely remarked, *' By 
 dad, I have a notion there's never a countiy 
 that isn't the best in life for the boys that keep 
 living in it for better or worse." 
 
 This conversation brought them to a deep 
 cleft in a rock thickly covered with wood, and 
 shelving up the side of a hill. Through this 
 ravine they perseveringly scrambled, as it was 
 the last toilsome pass they had to encounter j 
 for when they reached the summit, the hunt- 
 ing encampment of the king was seen in a 
 beautiful valley before them, encompassed 
 with hills, and watered by a winding brook. 
 
 This place, which was called Dalriogh, * or 
 the King's Valley, had been selected on account 
 of its being completely sheltered from storms 
 by the barrier which nature had thrown around 
 
 * Pronouiicc'J Dalreeoh. tlie h strongly aspiratt-d.
 
 90 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 it. The brook came from the mountains a- 
 bove, through a gap so narrow, that it would 
 scarcely admit two men a-breast to pass along 
 the rugged channel, even if they dared to ven- 
 ture under the loose fragments of rock which 
 everywhere seemed ready to tumble from the 
 crags above. The mouth of the gap where it 
 opened into the valley, was concealed by a 
 group of large bushy oaks, that held up their 
 thick foliage as a shield to the blasts which 
 sometimes assailed them through this wild 
 gully, and by which a few of the more slender 
 had been overturned. From this main group 
 of oaks several ranges branched off, sweeping 
 round the valley at the roots of the hills, or 
 running in irregular clumps and patches up 
 the acclivities ; but the finest of these ranges 
 accompanied the brook in all its windings, and 
 even followed it after it left the valley, when its 
 course towards the plains was hid from view by 
 the intervening hills. On each side of this mid- 
 dle belt of oaks the hunting tents were pitch- 
 ed, some of them on a fine level meadow, and 
 
 6
 
 SAINT IWTRICK. Ql 
 
 some under the covert of the trees alonjx the 
 side of the brook. 
 
 As our travellers proceeded down the de- 
 scent of the hill, and came near to the tents, 
 they were struck with the stillness which reign- 
 ed in a place that might have been conceived 
 to be full of bustle and activity. There w^as 
 not even a dog to interrupt the silence. Every 
 thing wore the resemblance of peaceful sleep, 
 and the very coverings of the tents seemed 
 afraid to obey the touch of the light breeze. 
 The noon- day sun shone silently on the dark 
 oaks, which spread around their branches as 
 motionless as if it had been the calm of mid- 
 night. Bryan, indeed, was not without his sus- 
 picions, that, instead of the king's encampment, 
 they had stumbled upon the tents of the Du- 
 ine-shi*, or Men of Peace. * Angus, however, 
 who knew the place, made the more plau- 
 sible conjecture, that the king and his attend- 
 
 * I he Celtic fail its.
 
 Q2 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 ants were gone to hunt in the neighbouring 
 woods, and would return by night-fall. 
 
 That Angus was right immediately appear- 
 ed, for they heard distant shouting far to the 
 westward, and, on looking in that direction, 
 they descried a body of men skirting the de- 
 clivity of a hill, and rapidly advancing in the 
 direction of the place where they were eager- 
 ly surveying their movements. The hunters 
 were sometimes hid from their view by clumps 
 of trees and the angles of the hills, and often 
 had to pursue the rugged paths excavated by 
 torrents ; but even when they were thus con- 
 cealed, the shouts, which came nearer and 
 louder, marked the quickness of their pro- 
 gress. At last, they were seen issuing from 
 a copse on the other side of the brook, imme- 
 diately at the bottom of the height where our 
 travellers were standing ; and, at some dis- 
 tance before them, a large wild boar appeared 
 running with great fuiy. 
 
 The boar sprung across the brook at a 
 jingle leap j but his flight was cut off by a
 
 3AINT PATRICK. 93 
 
 crescent of tents, which inclosed the space 
 into which he had run ; and the hunters 
 were so close upon him, that they had crossed 
 the brook before he could retreat, which now 
 he could not do, except by madly rushing 
 through the midst of his pursuers. He at- 
 tempted to clear the tents, by bounding over 
 one of the lowest joinings ; but to this feat he 
 was inadequate, and he fell back among the 
 dogs and spears of his enemies, by whom he 
 was now surrounded. His death seemed in- 
 evitable, yet he stood resolutely at bay, deter- 
 mined to crack his last nerve, if he could but 
 regain his native wilds, and bound, by one 
 desperate leap, into the trackless forest. Like 
 a patriot, driven from all his mountain haunts, 
 and stormed in hva last fortress by an irresist- 
 ible foe, he fearlessly reared his stern front, 
 and trampled on the instruments of death, as 
 if the air had lifted him above the fettered 
 sla^very of the earth. His death seemed ine- 
 vitable, yet his dreadful tusks and the furious 
 glare of his eye intimidated the boldest of the
 
 94 SAINT PATRICK* 
 
 dogs, and the most courageous of the hunters. 
 Several of the dogs tried to run in upon him, 
 but he gave them such reception, that none 
 of them which made the attempt choosed to 
 repeat it ; and he stood, with grim fortitude, 
 making the most terrific growling, prepara- 
 tory to an attack on the phalanx of his foes. 
 
 In this state, there was a pause for a mo- 
 ment, to think what was to be done, when a 
 youth immediately darted out of the circle, 
 and, by one manly thrust with his spear, 
 struck the fierce inhabitant of the forest to the 
 earth. Yet, with all the vigour of the youth- 
 ful hunter, he found himself unable to van- 
 quish the brindled savage, in whom the un- 
 cliainable soul of liberty seemed to madden 
 with the blow, but a whole circle of spears 
 was instantly presented on every side, and he 
 fell, pierced with a hundred wounds, while 
 the valley resounded with cries of *' Long life 
 to Prince Malthuine : Long life to King Lo- 
 gaire !*'
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 95 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " He, that ay hass lev} t frc, 
 
 May nought knaw weill the propeyrte 
 
 The angyr, na the wrechyt dome 
 
 That is cowplyt to foule thyrldome, 
 
 But gyff h€ had assayil it, 
 
 Than all perquere he suld itwyt." 
 
 Barbour MS. in the Advocates' 
 Library, Edinburgh, 
 
 During this scene at the tents, Angus had 
 manifested great impatience, and regretted 
 much that he had not been of the party ; for 
 his recent successful encounter with the wolf 
 at Glendalagh had wonderfully increased his 
 courage ; and he flattered himself, that he 
 would have obtained the honour which had 
 now fallen to the lot of Prince Malthuine. 
 Biyan, whose keen eye permitted nothing to 
 escape him, had perceived on an eminence on
 
 96 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 the other side of the valley, a number of ladies 
 in elegant hunting dresses, whose looks were 
 anxiously directed towards the chase, and who, 
 as soon as it was happily terminated, hastened 
 to join the hunters in the valley. They were 
 met by the prince, carrying on his spear the 
 head of the boar, with the hunters following 
 and shouting in his train. He advanced with 
 manly modesty, and laid his trophy at the 
 feet of one of the ladies, whom Bryan soon 
 perceived was the most handsome of her com- 
 panions, and might almost bear a comparison 
 he thought with his own Norah, who in his 
 eyes had no compeer. The prince was re- 
 warded by the sweetest smile from a counte- 
 nance, where youth and beauty had assembled 
 all that was lovely and fascinating. Joy, in- 
 deed, was more evident in the soft sparkling 
 of her blue eyes, and in the animation which 
 fluttered on her cheek, than in the repressed 
 exultation that struggled in the bosom of the 
 prince, who seemed only to rejoice in sym- 
 pathy with her, and only to feel reverberated
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 97 
 
 on himself, that tide of gladness which rolled 
 so brightly from her fair countenance. 
 
 " My life to a pin," cried Biyan, " his 
 mistress that shud be, and purtty she is, if I 
 have my eyes." 
 
 " Na man," replied Angu^, " ye're a* 
 wrang there, an' ye had been right a' your 
 days afore ; she's his ain titty, and a better 
 nor a brawer's no within the braeheads o* 
 Dalriogh. She's unco keen o' daffin tae be 
 sure, like ither young anes, but whuna'be, 
 she ne'er forgets hersel' far, and she's ony 
 thing but glaiket wi' a' her hilliegeleeries ; 
 an' 'tweel I wat, gin dawting wad spoil her, 
 she wad'a been spoil't lang syne, for they 
 say she has been ilka bodie's body sin' she 
 w^as the bouk o' a grozet." 
 
 This Caledonian eulogium, however, might 
 as well have been spared, for Bryan had taken 
 the liberty of" clenching the fist of his mind,'* 
 as the Greek comedy * has it, against all ex- 
 
 * Aristoph. Nubes. 
 VOL. I. E
 
 98 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 temal impressions ; and was busy in winding 
 up his various projects, to something like a 
 conclusion. In this mood they arrived at 
 the tents, where all was now activity and 
 bustle. In one quarter, groups were collect- 
 ed to discuss the feats of the day, and criticise 
 the management of the whole expedition, 
 from their exit in the morning, till tlie 
 triumph of the prince. In another, some 
 were pacing among the trees in moody soli- 
 tude, vexed to the soul that it had not fallen 
 to their lot to be signalized, and secretly 
 cursing their own want of spirit, but forming 
 to themselves most plausible excuses and 
 apologies, and resolving not^ to let slip such 
 another opportunity of distinction. The 
 greater number were following the prince to 
 his tent, and among these his. fair sister 
 AoiniB * and the other ladies who had been 
 spectators of the chace from the hills. 
 
 ♦ AoinCj the Murning Star. Bp. Nicholson's Glossar.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 99 
 
 Amidst so much bustle, our travellers were 
 overlooked, and Bryan had leisure to mingle 
 the materials of his aerial castle-buildings with 
 the tangible images which the unusual scene 
 everywhere presented to his notice. Angus, 
 however, who was as much elated with the 
 success of his embassage as the prince with 
 his grisly trophy, pressed through the crowd, 
 and, dragging Bi^an after him, presented him 
 wuth all due ceremony to the king, who was 
 of the party, and rejoicing at his son's suc- 
 cess. The attention of all the attendants 
 was soon diverted from the royal hunter to 
 the gaunt figure of Biyan, who, although not 
 used to be stared at by so many chiefs and 
 nobles, was too deeply engrossed with his 
 designs to be abashed, and maintained an un- 
 altered countenance. 
 
 The king soon perceived, from Bryan's 
 singular appearance, that he was no ordinary 
 person, and immediately ordered him to be 
 conducted to his tent, where he would con- 
 sult with him in private concerning the de-
 
 100 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 sign suggested by Saint Patrick, whom also 
 he requested to be sent for to the council, 
 deputing the prince to conduct him thither 
 as a mark of the high respect in which he 
 was held by the king. * This, indeed, almost 
 amounted to adoration, and had Patrick wish- 
 ed to assume the character of a prophet sent 
 immediately by heaven to reform the Irish 
 nation, he would have found it an easier task 
 than the impostor Mahomet did to obtain 
 credit. But with all the influence he ac- 
 quired over Logaire and his chiefs, he re- 
 mained the humble vassal of the cross, and 
 exulted only in the extension of the truth, 
 and in the downfal of superstition. 
 
 When the prince arrived at the Apostle's 
 tent, which was at some distance from the 
 rest, he found that he was not there, and it 
 was not easy to say where his moody and so- 
 litary spirit might at any particular instant 
 have carried him. He had not followed the 
 
 * Historical.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 101 
 
 hunters, for he did not like hunting ; and he 
 was nowhere to be found in the camp. 
 Logaire's impatience, however, could not 
 brook delay ; strict inquiry was made, and at 
 last it was recollected that he had been seen 
 in the morning wandering among the oaks at 
 the mouth of the gully, and hence it was not 
 unlikely that he was simpling on the rodcs for 
 herbs to make the medicines which rendered 
 him so famous, and which contributed not a 
 little to the success of his mission. * 
 
 The prince accordingly began to search 
 along the rugged channel of the gap for the 
 wandering solitary, and many a huge shape- 
 less stone he clambered over, and many a steep 
 he scaled, at the risk of his life, while, at every 
 step, loose hanging masses threatened to bury 
 him in their ruins. There was not a single 
 tree nor bush to cling to, or to break the 
 dreary wildness of the scene, and he could 
 
 * Historical.
 
 102 SAIxNT PATRICK. 
 
 not conjecture what induced the illustrious 
 Apostle to wander in such a wildered place, 
 when he was sure he might obtain herbs 
 enough, with less trouble, elsewhere. He 
 perceived, however, that some person had 
 lately passed this way, for on the steeps that 
 everywhere obstructed his progress, there were 
 recent traces of footsteps, which had slipt and 
 dislodged portions of the crumbling and shi- 
 very rock, — and still more evident foot-prints 
 on the little patches of red sand bordering the 
 pools of the stream. He at last reached a 
 waterfall, beyond which he thought it unne- 
 cessary to search. It seemed, indeed, to be 
 nearly impassable ; but, on going to the bot- 
 tom of the rocks, he found a parcel of fresh- 
 gathered herbs, carefully tied with tough 
 grass, and, as this was a trace of the Apostle 
 not to be mistaken, he immediately began to 
 examine the most accessible point of the rocks, 
 determined, since he had gone so far, not to 
 return without finding him. He succeeded 
 in scaling the steep by help of his boar-spear,
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 103 
 
 which he had brought with him ; but his dif- 
 ficulties did not terminate here, for he found 
 the obstructions of the pass increased rather 
 tlian diminished, beyond the cataract ; for the 
 rocks above him were, if possible, still more 
 loose and threatening, and they were so steep, 
 and the opposite cliffs approached so near, 
 that they made the channel as dark as x the 
 rainy twilight of a winter's day. 
 
 On advancing cautiously a little way along 
 this dark ravine, he found that the brook 
 made a sudden turn to the left, and, on 
 doubling the angle, by crouching below a 
 rock, undermined by the water, he saw the 
 lofty cliffs suddenly diverge from one ano- 
 ther, and, at some distance, contract again, 
 enclosing a space of some extent, through the 
 centre of which the brook flowed. In this 
 space he perceived a large pile of rocks, which, 
 rude as it was, looked more like a work of 
 art than an accidental heap of stones, thrown 
 down by storms, and driven together by the 
 torrent. He could not conjecture, however.
 
 104 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 for what pui^ose so rude a mass could have 
 been reared, as there was no apparent en- 
 trance into it, and it did not much resemble a 
 cairn. The stones, or rather pieces of rock, 
 were thrown promiscuously together, without 
 regard to size or shape, yet in such a way as 
 to render them firm in their position, though 
 the pile was placed in the open ground, with- 
 out advantage having been taken of the sup- 
 port it might have derived by being placed 
 close to the rocks. 
 
 Might it not have been reared by some re- 
 bellious chief of former times, for the purpose 
 of concealment ? If it were as capacious 
 within as the outside betokened, it might 
 lodge a considerable band of warriors, in times 
 of danger ; and even now, when some of the 
 powerful chiefs were becoming disaffected at 
 the innovations of the Catholics, it might 
 come to be so employed. As there still were 
 no further indications of the Apostle, he re- 
 solved to examine this pile more narrowly, to
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 105 
 
 ascertain whether it were a mere heap of 
 rocks or an actual building. 
 
 While he was advancing to make farther 
 examination, he was accosted in a voice which 
 re-echoed, like rolling thunder, from the sur- 
 rounding rocks. " What are you," said the 
 voice, " that dare intrude here ? Answer, 
 wretch, or you die.'* 
 
 The prince was startled, though not dis- 
 mayed, at the sudden threat, and looking up, 
 he perceived on the summit of the pile a man 
 of a grim and menacing aspect, with a bow 
 ready bent in his hand, and an arrow drawn 
 to the very barb, and pointed towards him. 
 The prince returned him a look of defiance, 
 but spoke not. 
 
 '[ Answer instantly," the challenger re- 
 peated, " what presumption led you hither ? 
 I cannot wait to parley." 
 
 " And who are you," the prince sternly 
 replied, " that presume thus to question your 
 prince ? " 
 
 There is something in true courage which 
 e2
 
 106 SAINT PATRICK* 
 
 overpoweringly forbids the taking advantage 
 of circumstances to crush rt unfairly by supe- 
 rior power, and he of the pile had begun to 
 feel this forbidding impression before the 
 prince answered him. But at the woa*d 
 " prince," he tossed the bow wildly from his 
 hand, and clasped his hands with frantic joy, 
 exclaiming, " We have him, we have him :'* 
 at which several fellows, as grim and fierce- 
 looking as himself, shot their rough heads 
 above the level of the stone on which he was 
 standing, to see the cause of the uproar. 
 " Seize him, bind him ; fetters, Trassy, 
 double fetters, we have him, we have him ;'* 
 and he finished his frenzied orders by a Sa- 
 tanic laugh of exultation. Four savage-look- 
 ing churls immediately descended the pile, 
 with as much speed as the rugged way would 
 permit them, and advanced furiously to Mal- 
 thuine, without speaking, and were going to 
 bind him. The vigorous youth, however, 
 was not to be so treated with impunity. He 
 coolly raised his spear, and laid the foremost 
 
 I
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 107 
 
 assailant weltering among the stones. The 
 other three rushed upon him on all sides at 
 once, so that he could not aim his weapon at 
 more than one ; this one he struck so violent- 
 ly that the spear penetrated to his heart, and 
 stretched him lifeless beside his companion. 
 
 The chief was enraged beyond all bounds 
 to see two of his brave followers thus van- 
 quished, though he could not help admiring 
 the determined bravery of the prince. Mal- 
 thuine's terrible exertions in these feats had 
 somewhat exhausted him, so that the remain- 
 ing two succeeded in securing him. Tlie 
 chief himself descended, and assisted them to 
 carry him to their retreat. The pile could 
 only be entered from above, through an open- 
 ing which was by this time completely choked 
 with a serried batch of grizly-looking heads, 
 rising above one another like the seats in a 
 theatre, to see the termination of the fray. 
 These, however, sunk again into their den, as 
 goon as their companions ascended with their
 
 108 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 illustrious captive. From the entrance, some 
 rude steps led down to what may be called 
 the hall, although nothing, perhaps, ever so de- 
 nominated could have any resemblance to 
 this, except in extent. 
 
 It was even more capacious than could have 
 been imagined from the exterior, for below 
 the level of the apparent foundation, in the 
 directipn of the rocks on the right, a large 
 excavation had been made, the roof of which 
 was supported by posts formed of the trunks 
 of trees, the projecting stumps of whose 
 branches not having been removed by the 
 rude architects, gave them a very singular ap- 
 pearance. It seemed also to be but recently 
 consti'ucted, for the bark was still fresh on 
 some of the trees, and a large heap of earth 
 and stones newly dug from it lay in the space 
 under the entrance. To the prince, only, a 
 few of these posts were visible by the light 
 which was admitted from above ; beyond all 
 v/as wrapt in darkness, and this was increased
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 109 
 
 by the narrow passage that led to it, which 
 also prevented him from seeing its extent, 
 and made it seem greater to his fancy than it 
 really was. 
 
 As soon as the agitation into which his 
 capture had thrown him was a little subsided, 
 he began to conjecture who it could be that 
 had stationed themselves in this wonderful 
 retreat. He did not recollect to have seen 
 the chief at court, although his language and 
 his authoritative air bespoke him used to 
 command. That some plan of revolt was in 
 contemplation he had no doubt, of which the 
 king, so far as he was aware, remained yet in 
 ignorance. He resolved, therefore, to learn 
 all he could of their schemes, as he trusted 
 firmly to Providence and to his own ingenuity 
 for means to eflPect an escape, if they did not 
 put him to death. When they got him down 
 the steps, they hurried him into what he con- 
 ceived to be the farthest corner of the excava- 
 tion, and bound him firm to one of the huge 
 wooden pillars. A warder remained near
 
 110 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 bim, pacing up and down in moody silence, as 
 if they had mistrusted the strength of their 
 chains to bind a person who bad given such 
 proofs of strength and boldness.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 1 1 1 
 
 CHAPTER VIJI. 
 
 — ** Thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulder?, 
 that a milk-maid, if she be in love, may sigh it off." 
 
 Measure for Measure, 
 
 Malthuine thought proper to interrogate 
 his sentinel concerning the daring rebel who 
 had thus intrenched himself so near the royal 
 encampment, in order to get some light into 
 his wonderful adventure. 
 
 " Tell me, slave," said the prince, in a 
 commanding tone, ** who owns this den, or 
 rather who leads these rebels." 
 
 The sentinel paused, raised a hideous laugh, 
 and replied, " Oh, you may now fume out 
 your rage at ease ; it will do your spirits good 
 to chafe in your fetters, but recollect you do
 
 112 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 not command here, nor ever shall, by hea- 
 
 ven." 
 
 The prince immediately recognised in the 
 speaker the stern voice of the chief himself, 
 who had lingered to regale his thoughts with 
 the sight of his royal captive, and to . uminate 
 on the best mode of disposing of him. 
 
 <* Tell me, Sir," rejoined Malthuine in the 
 same tone of authority, " who you are who 
 thus lie in hostile ambush on the very confines 
 of my father's camp." 
 
 " That both you and your father shall 
 know, ere long," replied the chief; " you 
 have ruined Ireland by your wretched follies ; 
 you have become the credulous dupes of de- 
 signing foreigners, who have cozened you out 
 of your religion, and out of your power ; and 
 will, ere long, shackle the freedom of our 
 brave countrymen by their outlandish mea- 
 sures. But you shall know that the untaint- 
 ed spirit of our ancestors still beats in our bo- 
 soms, and that the royal blood of O'Neil, 
 though corrupted by your apostacy from the
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 113 
 
 religion of your fathers, still flows pure in the 
 veins of one who would rejoice to heave his 
 last sigh to rescue his country from the fangs 
 of foreigners. But Heaven has heard the 
 groans of our suflPering country, and you and 
 the accursed high-priest of your delusion, 
 shall now pay the meed of your hellish plots." 
 And he resumed his pacing through the 
 gloomy hall. 
 
 The threats of the chief, however, were lost 
 upon Malthuine, who was unappalled at his 
 own danger, while he bitterly grieved that the 
 illustrious Apostle had fallen into their hands, 
 as the chief had hinted. Perhaps he was un- 
 der the same roof with himself, and in similar 
 confinement. The chief he now understood 
 to be Ere O'Neil,* the son of Eochad Munre- 
 var, a branch of the royal lineage, which had 
 
 * The father of that Fergus, who is called Fergus If. 
 in Boethius and Buchanan, but really Fergus X. See 
 Innesj Pinkerton, &c.
 
 1 14 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 never been reconciled to the election of Lo- 
 gaire to the throne, and had taken advantage 
 of the Catholic innovations to foster a spirit of 
 revolt. He found it, in consequjence, advan- 
 tageous to pretend a great zeal for Druidism, 
 though it was all a pretence ; and he cared 
 not what were the ceremonies or opinions of 
 the people in religious matters, if he could 
 obtain power. 
 
 Malthuine, who never feared danger, in 
 whatever shape it might appear, when his 
 hands were at liberty, began to qualm at the 
 thoughts of being slaughtered, like a bull, by 
 some savage Druid, in sacrifice to their de- 
 mons; which he now imagined was to be his 
 fate. He saw no hope of escape, and less of 
 appeasing the merciless horde in whose power 
 he was ; and he grieved, also, that he was not 
 the only victim ; for he was not so overpow- 
 ered with terror but he could think of the il- 
 lustrious Patrick, whom Providence alone 
 could now rescue, by a miracle, from their 
 fangs. He was roused from his musings by
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 115 
 
 the sound of numerous voices, in high dis- 
 pute, from the opposite part of the hall. His 
 guard left him abruptly, and he was left to 
 the keeping of the chains which bound him. 
 The sound of the voices increased in loudness 
 and confusion, and he saw several figures 
 passing between him and the light, at the en- 
 trance into the excavation. It was plain that 
 there was some extraordinary movement going 
 forward ; and now, thought he, an opportu- 
 nity to escape may occur, could I but free 
 myself from these accursed fetters ; and he 
 began eagerly to examine their strength and 
 fixture. 
 
 His attention, however, was arrested by 
 what concerned him more nearly than the 
 strength of his fetters. Two of the warriors 
 were close upon him ere he wist, and he 
 could hear one of them whisper anxiously, 
 *' What do you mean, Trassy, that you grasp 
 jour spear so violently ? " 
 
 " Dispatch him, to be sure," replied his
 
 116 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 grim companion ; " should he escape our plot 
 is ruined." 
 
 " But you must not murder him in cold 
 blood," rejoined the other ; "it is ungene- 
 rous, and our chief would never forgive 
 you." 
 
 " We cannot stay to mutter mercy now," 
 growled out the stern Trassy ; " he must die. 
 The chief will rejoice at the riddance ; you 
 do not know O'Neil ;" and twisting his arm 
 from the hand that detained it, he furiously 
 raised his spear, and was about to plunge it 
 in the prisoner's breast, when O'Neil, who 
 had suspected the withdrawing of Trassy 
 from the hall betokened some villainy, sprang 
 from behind a pillar, wrenched the spear 
 from his hand, and threw it on the floor with 
 indignant contempt. 
 
 *' What, without my permission ?" said the 
 wrathful and high-born chief. " Would you 
 stain the dawn of our enterprise with the 
 blood of a brave captive ? Curb this impetu- 
 ous haste, my noble companions, till you
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 117 
 
 meet our foes in fair and open combat ; and 
 Jet not the blood of a prisoner in chains tar- 
 nish your arms." 
 
 Trassy's countenance was changed into sul- 
 lenness at this commanding interruption, but 
 he was compelled to acquiesce, and they all 
 withdrew from Malthuine in deep consulta- 
 tion ; from overhearing some words, of which 
 he could learn that there was to be a grand 
 feast held to-night, and a council of war as- 
 sembled. He was again left to solitude and 
 reflection. The night now approached, and 
 dimmed the feeble light, which was rather 
 seen at a distance by the prisoner, than show- 
 ed him the secrets of his prison-house, if se- 
 crets there were. He was convinced, indeed, 
 that St Patrick must be confined there, and 
 his busy fancy went eagerly to work to con- 
 jecture in what quarter ; but all around was 
 blank darkness. 
 
 As soon as the lingering twilight had melt- 
 ed away from the entrance of the pile, the 
 quietness which had reigned for a little was
 
 118 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 again broken by the noise of revelry, and the 
 blaze of a large fire, in a remote part of the 
 hall, fell languidly on the wooden pillars of 
 the prison ; ' and Malthuine could perceive 
 the shadows of his enemies, as they darkened 
 the 'light, in passing and repassing. He 
 could not distinguish any words, he only 
 heard their noisy brawling and their frantic 
 tones of exultation. At intervals there was a 
 pause, and he distinguished the soft tones of 
 a harp lulling with its magic their unquiet 
 spirits, and crushing their untamed fierceness 
 by the melody of its numbers. The tones 
 changed, and swelled into the boldest notes 
 of martial music ; and the musician pro- 
 duced such hmd and crashing sounds, that 
 Malthuine could hear the warriors start, — 
 seize their shields, — and ring out the clang 
 of war by the clashing of tlieir spears. Again 
 he would *' check his hand," * and weave a 
 
 Dryden.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 119 
 
 pitying requiem for those who had fallen in 
 battle, while the heart-rending measures 
 thrilled in soft and mournful cadence along 
 the gloom of the walls ; and again the heaven- 
 ly numbers were drowned in the shputs of 
 riot, which to-night no human art seemed 
 capable to repress. 
 
 *' Who is that who flits so cautiously, and 
 treads so lightly among the pillars ?" thought 
 Malthuine, as he perceived a figure approach 
 him on tiptoe. " Could it be the generous 
 person who had pleaded for his life ? or could 
 ' it be O'Neil ?'' 
 
 The fire gleamed but faintly in his remote 
 station ; yet its pale light soon showed the 
 intruder to be of lighter form than any of the 
 rough warriors he had previously seen among 
 the band ; it soon showed, that a shape so 
 elegant, and an air so graceful, could only be- 
 long to the fairest of nature's works, — to the 
 lady who now stood before him. He was so 
 struck with the dignity of her demeanour.
 
 120 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 that he hesitated whether he should venture 
 to address her. He did venture. 
 
 " Lady !'* — ^he began, with fluttering em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 " Hush ! hush, for the love of heaven," 
 interrupted the fair visitor, in a low whisper, 
 pressing her soft hand on his lips. " Prince," 
 she cautiously continued, ** I have come to 
 save you. The attempt is hazardous, but I 
 am resolved. If I fail, before two hours you 
 die. But I cannot wait to explain." And 
 without further preface, with more than 
 woman's strength she loosed his fetters. 
 " Remain a moment," she added, " as if you 
 were still shackled, till I see that our way is 
 clear." And she instantly glided away. 
 He soon after heard a light step approaching ; 
 it was the lady's. ** Fear nothing," she 
 whispered, " all is yet safe : follow me," and 
 she conducted him to a concealed recess in 
 the opposite part of the excavation, and turn- 
 ing back a broad thin flag-stone, pushed him 
 into an entrance which led, he immediately
 
 SAINT PATRICK. VZl 
 
 found, to a chamber of small dimensions, 
 scooped out of the solid rock, and decorated 
 with more splendid ornaments than even 
 those of his father's palace, and lighted by a 
 brilliant lamp. 
 
 "It is not every one, prince," said his 
 fair conductress, " that I admit into my cham- 
 ber. O'Neil himself dares not enter here : 
 and nobody, except my father and myself, 
 knows that there is, besides this room, a con- 
 cealed apartment here, for the person who 
 constructed it is dead. Now you understand 
 me,'* showing him at the same time a secret 
 entrance to a chamber nearly as large as her 
 own. *' Remain here till I return," she add- 
 ed, " if I am suspected nothing can save us." 
 And away she hurried, leaving Malthuine 
 overcome with astonishment. 
 
 During her last speech, he had had a mo- 
 ment to raise his eyes to mark the counte- 
 nance of this guardian angel, and never 
 countenance, since the days of Eve, expressed 
 so much dignity and mildness united. The 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 122 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 fineness of her fonii, and gracefulnes of her 
 air, had won on his fancy, even when she first 
 appeared in the scanty light among the pillars. 
 The touch of her hand, as she had pressed it 
 to his lips to prevent him from speaking, was 
 as soft as the breath of the summer zephyr, 
 and thrilled through every nerve to his heart. 
 But when the light of the chamber lamps fell 
 on her countenance, it revealed so ovei'powTr- 
 ing an expression of intelligence and feeling, 
 that all the powers of his soul were bound by 
 the spell, and he stood entranced and motion- 
 less ; and after she had left him, he kept his 
 eye bent on the passage whence she had re- 
 ceded, in all the gazeless vacancy of reverie. 
 Even if his merciless enemies had now ap- 
 peared before him in their most hostile fierce- 
 ness, it is likely he would have heard their 
 threats, and perhaps felt their blows, unheeded, 
 he was so wrapt in wonder at the singularity 
 of the adventure. 
 
 The prince had had opportunities of seeing 
 all the beauties at that time celebrated in Ire-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 125 
 
 land, and he had been charmed with several 
 of them as one would with a fine statue ; but 
 with the exception of his sister, they appear- 
 ed mere statues compared with the superior 
 being under whose protection he now was, 
 whose soul spoke in all her motions, and in all 
 her looks ; and betrayed none of that stagna- 
 tion of intellect which sometimes mantles on 
 the cheek of beauty, and deadens the witchery 
 of its smile. But there was another charm 
 which brightened all her qualities, and won 
 his most guarded thoughts, — she had saved 
 him from a cruel death. He owed his life 
 to her enterprise, and he vowed to devote 
 that life to her service, without reflecting who 
 she might be. " To whose service ?" he 
 said, as the thought struck him. " She can- 
 not be the wife of 0'Xc41, for she had told him 
 that O'Neil dared not enter her chamber," and 
 he had treasured every word which had been 
 graced with the music of her lips. " A Druid 
 priestess then perhaps ?" 
 
 His last conjecture was right j she was a
 
 12i SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 Druidess of a liigh order, as her dress would 
 have attested to him, had he possessed pre- 
 sence of mind to mark it ; but his gaze was 
 spell-bound by the li^dng beauty that was un- 
 veiled before him, and he saw not, or marked 
 not, the ornaments with which she was be- 
 decked, at least, he was unconscious of the in- 
 fluence which female dress has over the ima- 
 gination when it is selected with simplicity of 
 taste. The lady's was so selected. She wore 
 the azure robe sacred to her order ; yet the 
 gracefulness of its fonn, and its airy flowing, 
 arose from the taste as much as from the ele- 
 gant person of the fair wearer. The elegance 
 of her form was heightened by a scarf of gold- 
 en yellow, which floated around her as floats 
 the light gossamer on the dewy breeze of 
 morning. Her hair was dark and luxuriant, 
 and parted on her forehead by a fillet bestud- 
 ded with native pearls, from the centre of 
 which a large amethyst reflected its etherial 
 blue, while behind it a green sprig of the 
 missletoe rose above the rich wavings of the
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 1^5 
 
 ringlets, that ** * scaped the baffled wreath 
 which strove behind,"* and streamed on the 
 soft contour of her shoulder like the young 
 tendrils of a weeping birch. In short, she 
 was the same beautiful nymph who had been 
 sheltered at Glendalagh. 
 
 Lord Byron.
 
 1S6 SAINT PATRICK, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ** He, as falls the mighty pile, 
 As safe as in a cot the while, 
 Sits silently with musing ear, 
 To listen if he cannot hear — 
 The crash of falling battlement," 
 
 FlNLAY. 
 
 The mind of the prince was irresistibly 
 hurried away by a thousand wild fancies, 
 which flitted through his thoughts in alter- 
 nate and rapid corruscation. He could not 
 bend his attention to any single part of it not 
 for an instant : the whole darted upon him in 
 overwhelming impetuosity, and crushed all his 
 efforts at sober calculation. But he was not 
 long left a victim to agitations about the past. 
 All at once, the mirthful and boisterous re- 
 veliy which had pealed its clamours through
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 127 
 
 the hall, was turned to shouts of rage and fury 
 when his escape was discovered. 
 
 Soon after it had been agreed upon in the 
 rebel-divan that it was the safest plan for their 
 success to get rid of their prisoner, Trassy 
 had again withdrawn from the noisy joy of 
 the feast, in which his dark soul took no de- 
 light, to gorge his eyes with the sight of the 
 devoted victim. But when he found the 
 empty chains lying loose on the ground, he 
 uttered a growl so inhuman, that even the 
 daring female who had watched his steps 
 shuddered at the sound, and the torch which 
 he carried glared on such a fiendish contor- 
 tion of features as seldom deforms the face 
 of man. He grinced his teeth with raging 
 wildness, and for want of an object on which 
 to wreck his fmy, he dashed the empty fet- 
 ters on the floor. The beautiful Druidess 
 stood speechless at such frenzied workings of 
 passion ; and it was well, for it gave her that 
 look of astonishment which her ingenuous
 
 1^8 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 disposition could not bend to assume, and its 
 absence might have excited suspicion. 
 
 The infuriate warrior flew back to his com- 
 panions, gave the alarm, and in an instant 
 all was tumult and clamour. They tore the 
 blazing faggots from the fire, and run with 
 hurrying confusion through all the recesses of 
 their capacious den, tossing their brands in- 
 to every crevice and concealment, so that, if 
 the prince had been coiled into a rat-hole, any 
 where but in the chamber, he must have been 
 discovered. He shuddered when he heard 
 the muttered curses which they breathed in 
 passing near him, and he could see the flare 
 of their lights through the chinky joining of 
 the flag-stone which closed the entrance to 
 the chamber of his protectress. The lady 
 hovered near the recess in great perturbation, 
 which was remarked by the cooler part of the 
 band to arise from sympathy with the feelings 
 of the searchers. O'Neil himself advanced to 
 the recess after having anxiously examined 
 every other place, and addressed the guardian
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 129 
 
 lady in a tone of mildness which he knew 
 well how to assume. 
 
 " Ethne !" he said, " our captive cannot 
 be discovered in the cavern, and it is impos- 
 sible that he can have got out of it. He 
 must have found his way to this chamber, I 
 should imagine. Would you take the trouble 
 to examine ? I shall await you here." 
 
 Ethne had foreseen that this request would 
 be made, and obeyed with alacrity, snatching 
 the torch from O'Neil, and putting back the 
 flag-stone with her own hand. 
 
 " Chief!" said she as she entered, " I re- 
 gret that it is unlawful for yourself to search 
 here ; but I can give you permission to ob- 
 serve my vigilance. Stand at the entrance, 
 and you shall see every comer of the cham- 
 ber. I shall not," — she continued, raising 
 her voice to put the prince on his guard, — 
 " I shall not leave a foot of the tapestry un- 
 turned." What she called the tapestry was 
 made of the finest furs, with which the cham»
 
 ISO SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 ber was warmly hung, and behind which the 
 secret entrance was hid. 
 
 O'Neil eagerly darted his eye through the 
 chamber, and watched with keenness, as she 
 raised the fur hangings from the wall. But 
 when the fruitless search was completed, he 
 shrunk back from the entrance with gloomy 
 disappointment ; for he now anticipated that 
 his retreat would be discovered to the king 
 before his designs were ripe for execution. 
 He had appeared to be unwillingly dragged 
 into a consent to give up Malthuine, although 
 it was precisely the thing he yearned to get 
 accomplished ; for if the deed were perpetrat- 
 ed, it cut off all hope of accommodation from 
 his followers, and as the prince was Tanist, or 
 heir-elect to his father,^ the unalterable laws 
 
 * The Tanist, or heir-elect, was not confined to the 
 children ; it as often happened that the brothers or ne- 
 phews were preferred. The children, however, were not 
 excluded from the succession, as has been sometimes al- 
 leged. See Spenser's View.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. iSl 
 
 forbade any other to possess the throne while 
 he lived ; and the throne was O^Neil's aim of 
 ambition. He was now non-plussed, but his 
 daring spirit was not subdued. He was de- 
 termined to succeed or die. His mind har- 
 boured no alternative, no middle state of 
 quiet acquiescence. No deed of blood, and 
 no scheme of atrocity or deceit, appeared cri- 
 minal in this whirlwind of feeling, though, 
 in his calmer moments, he felt his spirit fetter- 
 ed by the strictest principles of honour. But 
 to what will not a ruling passion prompt ? The 
 sobriety of thinking becomes lost in the strug- 
 gle which rends the boundaries of principles 
 and of honour ; and its victim furiously leaps 
 into the trackless chaos «f crime, to escape 
 from feelings that only batten the fiercer a- 
 round the burnings of his heart. 0*Neil could 
 not fix upon any plan of proceeding which 
 was likely to succeed ; but he determined to 
 make another attempt to regain the posses- 
 sion of the prince, who could not yet be far 
 from the pile.
 
 132 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 He accordingly gave orders for the whole 
 band to disperse themselves with torches in 
 every direction ; and in an instant ali^the es- 
 carpments of the cliffs were illuminated on 
 every side, and the shadows of the projecting 
 crags were thrown over the dark rollings of 
 the brook. It was impossible that the prince 
 could have scaled the rocks towards the moun- 
 tains ; yet they searched even this impassable 
 track, and their black looking figures were 
 seen climbmg among the shadowy peaks and 
 ridges of the crags, waving their torches, and 
 shouting with hideous clamour. The main 
 body searched along the channel of the tor- 
 rent and the roots of the cliffs, having sepa- 
 rated into two divisions, one going up and 
 the other down the ravine. More than once 
 the tall fragments of rocks which shot up from 
 the rough soil deceived the ardent fancy of 
 the searchers into the belief that they had dis- 
 covered the fugitive, and the pattering of the 
 stream was sometimes thought to sound like 
 retreating footsteps^ and betrayed such as
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 133 
 
 burned for distinction to slily extinguish 
 their lights, and break away by stealth from 
 their <Hpipanions, to pursue the illusion, which 
 vanished as they advanced, and left them to 
 gulp down their disappointment, and skulk 
 back to mingle in the crowd of their shouting 
 companions. 
 
 These parties had not gone far, when a 
 more terrific shout of alarm than had yet been 
 heard on this night of events was yelled from 
 the searcliers on the cliffs, and on running 
 back they were struck by the mpid movements 
 of the lights, and the hurried descent of their 
 companions from their wild and perilous ele- 
 vation among the rocks. But they were hor- 
 ror-struck when they saw flames and smoke 
 rising from the ground about the pile, and 
 heard the earth and stones which fonned the 
 roof of the excavation falling amidst the crack- 
 ling flames of the wooden pillars. This un- 
 fortunate occurrence had been caused by some 
 one in his haste leaving his half burnt torch 
 in contact with one of the pillars, which soon
 
 134^ SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 spread the conflagration among those adja- 
 cent. 
 
 Ethne had cautiously glided into her apart- 
 ment the moment the band issued out on 
 their last search, impatient to see the youth 
 she had so hazardously rescued, and to con- 
 vince herself that he was safe ; for nothing 
 short of the evidences of the senses could 
 banish the doubt of his safety, which was be- 
 gotten by the uncertainty of the event, and 
 hung on her conviction like a cloud on the 
 blue transparency of the firmament. But her 
 prudence repressed the impatience which was 
 leaping in her bosom, and chained her in an 
 agony of silence to the fur couch, on which 
 she sunk as she entered ; for she did not know 
 what the lawless fury which was abroad to- 
 night might tempt them to, and if they burst 
 into her chamber and found the prince — She 
 started in wildness at the thought, threw back 
 the dark tresses from her lovely face, and, 
 approaching the concealed door with a step 
 as noiseless as falling snow, she whispered
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 135 
 
 to him to set himself at ease, for all was still 
 safe. 
 
 " O I fear, my divine preserver," he re- 
 plied, " that you have thrown yourself into 
 peril : leave me to my fate rather than en- 
 danger yourself; I could not live should I 
 prove the cause of your destruction." 
 
 As she was about to answer, the shout of 
 alarm echoed through the hall, and she was 
 teiTified beyond measure when she perceived 
 smoke streaming through the chinks of the 
 entrance. She had already, however, dared 
 too much to be thrown off her guard by any 
 occurrence. She had calculated on the worst, 
 and if it came to that, she was resolved to 
 meet death itself without shrinking. The 
 cause of the smoke she could not understand, 
 but it was necessary that the prince should 
 not move from his concealment till the last 
 extremity, and she enjoined him not to be 
 driven to expose himself by any alarm. She 
 flew to the entrance, and, on removing the 
 flagstone, was met by a cloud of smoke and
 
 136 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 the sight of the flaming pillars. She heard 
 the pieces of the roof strike on the floor in 
 their fall, and was nearly smothered by the 
 waves of dust, mingled with smoke, rolling 
 through the excavation. The fire was still, 
 however, distant from the chamber, and, as the 
 roof fell in, the smoke gradually escaped 
 through the breach, and left her again to 
 breathe the colourless air. But how g-reat 
 was her joy when she saw the flames playing 
 on a row of pillars which had been only re- 
 cently brought from the woods. Their green- 
 ness rendered them fire-proof, and she had 
 soon the satisfaction to see nothing of the 
 grand conflagration but a few chips, partly 
 smoking and partly reduced to red embers, 
 scattered along the floor. 
 
 By this time, the whole band were again 
 returned to mourn over the ruins of their re- 
 treat, and they looked gloomy and depressed 
 when they saw the fruits of many a laborious 
 hour mingled in one mass of destruction. It 
 is hard to say whose was the most pathless 
 
 Q
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 137 
 
 perplexity, Ethne's or O^Neil's. The lady 
 was reduced almost to distraction, when she 
 found all her plans defeated by this unfore- 
 seen accident, and she almost regretted hav- 
 ing gone so far, as her own destruction, as 
 well as his, was likely to be the consequence, 
 without being productive of any advantage to 
 either. 
 
 O'Neil, on the other hand, knew not how 
 to extricate himself from his difficulties ; for, 
 if he remained, he would, without question, 
 be attacked by the king'; and though the 
 place was in a manner impregnable to open 
 force, from the height of the cliffs, and the 
 narrowness of the defile, yet he might be ef • 
 fectually blockaded, and starved into a surren- 
 der, and, at all events, prevented from in- 
 creasing his force and his influence. If he re- 
 moved, he must go to the north, and abandon 
 the scheme he had cherished of surprising the 
 king's encampment in Dalriogh, and an op- 
 portunity so favourable might never again oc- 
 cur, as there was no other place, except the
 
 138 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 present, where he could station himself se- 
 curely in the vicinity of any of his hunting 
 stations. An immediate attack was hazard- 
 ous, as his followers were but few, and it would" 
 be several days before the arrival of an ex- 
 pected reinforcement. But, hazardous as it 
 was, this seemed to be the only scheme which 
 could advance his designs ; for, though it 
 placed the event of his enterprise on the 
 chance of a single throw^ at this turn, it would 
 not, even if unsuccessful, put him altogether 
 beyond recovering his ground, when he had 
 so powerful friends in the North, — while suc- 
 cess in defeating the king, and taking him- 
 self and nobles prisoners, would make him the 
 absolute dictator of whatever terms he might 
 choose to impose. He resolved. The band 
 were quickly summoned to a muster. Their 
 equipment was the work of a moment. He 
 restrained them from shouting the war-cry, 
 lest it might be heard by some straggler from 
 the camp; and they rushed in gloomy si-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 139 
 
 ience through the defile above the waterfall. 
 But, as this was an unusual order, it was 
 not ultimately obeyed, and they pealed their 
 shouts through the gully in spirited disobe- 
 dience. 
 
 " Ethne !" said O'Neil, as he gave the sig- 
 nal for advancing, ** you must remain here ; 
 but, lest we should return no more, I shall 
 leave you a protector, who will conduct you 
 to your father. Trassy ! you shall protect the 
 fair Ethne, till we return." 
 
 "Sir?" growled the fierce Trassy, as 
 if he had misunderstood the ungracious 
 order. 
 
 " Sir !" cried Ethne, in the same breath, 
 and in the most anxious tone of supplication, 
 " let me not- deprive you of so brave a war- 
 rior, when your force is so small. I shall be 
 quite safe alone ; and should you fail— ^vhich 
 may heaven avert — I can go more safely alone 
 than with any of your followers. Ah ! I see 
 you have forgot my successful escape from
 
 140 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 Tralooney." Trassy grinned his approba- 
 tion : 0*Neil acquiesced, and hastened to the 
 head of the band, already proceeding along 
 the foot of the cliffs.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 14<1 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 *' i'ly like the moon-ey'd herald of dismay, 
 Chas'd on hia night sleed by the star of day." 
 
 CampbeI/L, 
 
 Although the lady's feelings were wound 
 up to their extreme pitch, yet she had the 
 prudence and firmness to repress her exul- 
 tation till she had heard from the top of 
 the pile the last sound of their footsteps, as it 
 echoed hollow along the crags, and mingled 
 indistinctly with the remote dashing of the 
 cataract, and the nearer voice of the stream 
 below her. She listened again, — and the pat- 
 tering of their feet no longer met her ear. — 
 She flew to the chamber, grasped the hand of 
 the prince with hurried eagerness. 
 
 " Now the time is ours,'* she cried, " pome
 
 142 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 with me ;*' and, before he could speak or 
 think, had drawn him to the top of the pile/ 
 He was utterly confounded. He knew no- 
 thing of the expedition. Ethne was alone 
 amidst the ruins of the excavation, and all the 
 band gone. He was about to ask her what all 
 this meant ; but she interrupted him with 
 " This is no time for explanations, prince ; 
 follow me, and all will be safe ;" and she led 
 the way in the direction opposite to that which 
 the band had gone. 
 
 To follow her was no easy task. She glid- 
 ed over the rough stones w ith the swiftness of 
 a meteor, and it required all the agility of the 
 prince to bound after her. Sometimes she 
 got so far before him, that he could only hear 
 the fall of the stones her foot had displaced in 
 climbing, or see her tall figure between him 
 and the sky, when she had reached some 
 craggy elevation. More than once she had 
 to return, to point out to him the windings 
 of the rugged way, which the darkness so 
 thickly veiled ; and at one of the precipices.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 145 
 
 which all his efforts could not scale, from his 
 ignorance of the proper steps, she had boldly 
 trusted herself to throw down to him the end 
 of her scarf, and pull him in safety to the top. 
 This hurried flight, however, did not drive 
 from his mind the thraldom in which he sup- 
 posed the Apostle was left at the pile ; and 
 he several times began to interrogate his fair 
 guide where they had confined him, but could 
 obtain no satisfactory answer. She replied to 
 all his questions, by bidding him think of his 
 own safety, and hers, which was now involved 
 in his deliverance. 
 
 They soon reached a part of the defile 
 where the barrenness of the rocks began to be 
 broken by clumps of trees and shrubbery ; 
 and, a little farther on, the tall cliffs were 
 completely covered by a thick gloomy wood, 
 frowning over the chasm, like the brow of 
 night, and darkening their rugged path into 
 one uniform blank, where the eye strained 
 vainly to trace an image or an object. They 
 could only grope their way in this almost tan-
 
 144 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 gible darkness, and ihe prince was obliged t® 
 keep close to his guide, lest he should stumble 
 over some ambushed precipice. In the midst 
 of this embarrassing journey, Ethne made a 
 pause, and said sportively to Malthuine, 
 
 ** Now, prince, if you have any daring, 
 you may yet reach your father's camp before 
 the assailants. In one of my rambles, I. late- 
 ly discovered immediately above us a part of 
 the rock, which an adventurous person might 
 scale, and briefly reach the green hills adja- 
 cent to Dalriogh. Dare you venture ? It is 
 very steep, but you see there are shrubs to 
 cling by." 
 
 " And leave you here, my dear preserver ?'* 
 replied he, feeling his hieart suddenly throb 
 at the thought. 
 
 " O yes," she returned, " I shall go back 
 to my snug little chamber at Clogharnbrec, * 
 till the fortune of the entei'prise is decided. 
 
 Irish — CIoigh-garbh-ar!thain-breac. 
 
 I
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 145 
 
 I shall know before morning what to do. Will 
 you try the precipice ?" 
 
 This question reduced the prince to a 
 troublesome dilemma. He wished not to 
 part with his beautiful and daring companion 
 so long as he could find an excuse for de- 
 taining her ; and he did not choose to appear 
 timid before her who had been so fearless of 
 herself in his rescue. He had indeed known 
 her only a few hours, but within that time he 
 had seen more to admire than he had ever 
 before seen in woman. She had stampt up- 
 on his heart a sentiment not to be effaced ; 
 for she was beautiful, and she had delivered 
 him from a dreadful death. He paused, — 
 heaved a deep sigh, — and, seizing her hand 
 with an energy that surprised her, he passion- 
 ately exclaimed, 
 
 " Ethne ! I cannot leave you in these wilds 
 alone. Any thing but that, I can do and 
 dare. You have, at the risk of your own life, 
 saved mine : my life is henceforth yours, and 
 I shall live or die with you, but I cannot leave 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 146 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 you." And pressing her hand convulsively, 
 he fell at her feet, overpowered by the irre- 
 pressible emotions which were grappling round 
 his heart-strings. 
 
 The lady was also borne away by feelings 
 which had been gradually swelling in her bo- 
 som since she had first freed the prince from 
 his fetters, to which she had been impelled in 
 remembrance of her own protection at Glen- 
 dalagh, and not from any secret affection for 
 the royal youth whom she had never before 
 seen, although she had often heard of his bra- 
 very. She thought it her duty to repay the 
 disinterested treatment she had received from 
 her enemies, and she did not pause at the dan- 
 ger that hung over its performance. But no 
 sooner had she risked her safety in his deliver- 
 ance, than he became as dear to her, as the 
 shipwrecked child to the mother who has 
 saved it in her bosom. The chamber lamp 
 had shown her, that the prince had a very pre- 
 possessing air, though his person could not 
 perhaps be called handsome. There was an
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 147 
 
 openness in his countenance, which, to her 
 eye, fonned a marked contrast with the con- 
 stant suspicion which lurked in the dark eye 
 of O'NeiL And openness is so like confi- 
 dence, and confidence is so flattering to hu- 
 man nature, that such an air always finds its 
 way to the affections. She felt nothing of 
 what is usually denominated love, and yet she 
 could not hear unmoved what appeared to her 
 the overflowings of the brightest gratitude, 
 when he said, " I cannot leave you." She 
 paused a moment, and answered with energy, 
 
 ** This is no time for words ; every mo- 
 ment we now lose may cause irretrievable dis- 
 aster. Come, I shall go with you to the brow 
 of the cliff, and do not let these violent bursts 
 of gratitude unnerve you. Exert yourself, or 
 we are both lost." 
 
 The prince started as if from a trance, and 
 ejaculating ** divine creature !" showed more 
 than human agility and hardihood as he rush- 
 ed after her up the steep, suspending himself 
 from the hanging branches, and swinging with
 
 i"^^ SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 fearless activity into the little projections and 
 resting-places on the face of that precipice, 
 which wings alone seemed capable to scale. 
 Frequently his fair conductress had to stop 
 and remind him, that caution was as necessary 
 as courage, and the music of her sweet voice 
 among these wild cliffs, was so heightened by 
 contrast and the singularity of the situation, 
 that it roused Malthuine to the most frenzied 
 daring. 
 
 ** Was not that her voice ?" echoed a hoarse 
 accent from a lower part of the rock, — and 
 they heard the rustling of the bushes in the 
 direction it came from, while the owls, that 
 were thence scared from their prey, flapped 
 ominously by them. The rustling came 
 nearer and nearer, while the fugitives held 
 on their course as rapidly as the rugged 
 way would permit. But their pursuers, for 
 they now heard several voices, gained upon 
 them, and they gave themselves up for lost, 
 as there was no way to escape. Every thing, 
 however, depended on their exertions, and
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 149 
 
 could they reach the brow, the path was so 
 steep and so difficult to find, that there was 
 some chance of their pursuers being baffled. 
 
 They made another effort. The pursuers 
 shouted to them to stop and surrender at the 
 peril of being saluted with a flight of arrows. 
 They answered not, but strove to surmount a 
 jetting crag, which had barred their progress. 
 As they were groping round its angles, the 
 threatened salute whizzed through the dark- 
 ness, and they heard the arrows ring against 
 the crag around them. The darkness fortu- 
 nately saved them from this volley, and just 
 as the twang of the bowstrings announced a 
 second, they discovered a runner of ivy wai^p- 
 ing among the crevices along the side of the 
 crag. Trusting to this slender support, Eth- 
 ne got first to a resting-place above; Mal- 
 thuine was so hard pressed by the archers, 
 who had reached the foot of the crag, that he 
 felt the ivy under his feet shaken by their 
 grasp, just as he reached the summit. 
 
 *' O save yourself," he cried wildly, <* and
 
 1«50 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 I will defend the pass with my life. — Away, 
 haste. — Come on, you night-marauders, I am 
 ready for you." 
 
 The faitliless ivy, however, saved the 
 archer from his vengeance, for it gave way 
 with the violence of his pulling, and Malthu- 
 ine heard the bushes crashing and rustling 
 under him as he fell, while he thought he 
 felt the very crag tottering under his feet 
 with the shock. Ethne, who had not obey- 
 ed his request, but, determined to share his 
 fate, was still by his side, also perceived the 
 shuddering of the crag as the root gave way. 
 
 '* Would to heaven," she anxiously whis- 
 pered, ** that it had fallen. Here is a safe 
 and easy path above to a more secure station." 
 
 " It shall fall," says Malthuine, and springing 
 to the edge of the upward path to which the la- 
 dy had instinctively retreated, he poised himself 
 on the strong hanging branch of an oak, and 
 struck the crag with such force as loosened it 
 from its position, and sent it thundering into 
 the chasm below. The echoes which re-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 151 
 
 bounded and multiplied along the ravine, 
 drowned the cries of the discomfited archers, 
 and the fugitives were too anxious for their 
 own safety to think of ascertaining or moral- 
 izing on their fate, and they again held on 
 their precarious way. The darkness was so 
 far favourable, that it concealed from their 
 view the deep chasm which they had left be- 
 hind, and prevented those qualms of weak- 
 ness that none can banish when hanging in 
 doubtful support from the elevated escarp- 
 ment of such a precipice. 
 
 ** Now, thank heaven, you are safe," ex- 
 claimed Ethne with joy, as Malthuine bound- 
 ed up the last steep, and sprung on the firm 
 turf of the brow ; ** You must hasten over 
 those hills before you, and you shall come 
 straight on Dalriogh. The band cannot yet 
 have reached it, as their march in so narrow 
 and rugged a pass must be tardy. I have 
 now done my duty in repaying the favour 
 which was done to me. I must leave you, — 
 may heaven guard you from danger." She
 
 152 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 was about to add ** farewell," but paused, 
 and hung her head in silent dejection ; but 
 before the prince could recover himself from 
 the speechless perturbation into which her 
 words had thrown him, she made an effort to 
 conquer her weakness, and pronounced the 
 ominous word, but 
 
 . back recoiled, she knew not why, 
 Ev'n at the sound herself had made. * 
 
 " I hope, prince,'* she continued with 
 mournful sweetness, " you will not forget the 
 girl who accompanied you through this wild 
 pass. Farewell, farewell." 
 
 *' I forget you ! O never. But you must 
 not go. Where can you shelter yourself? 
 The path is now impassable, the pile is in 
 ruins !" — 
 
 While he was thus mustering dissuasives, 
 she had withdrawn a few steps, and the dark- 
 ness made him believe she was gone. 
 
 " I shall never see her like again," he cried. 
 
 ♦ CoUins.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 153 
 
 " Stay, my dearest preserver, O stay, I can- 
 not, cannot leave you," and he was just about 
 to precipitate himself from a point of the cliff, 
 being too violently hurried on by his emo- 
 tions to search for the path, when his beau- 
 tiful companion, almost as frantic as himself, 
 rushed forward and drew him back from the 
 destruction which yawned beneath him. The 
 conflict, however, that was wrought up in her 
 bosom between the passions which she strug- 
 gled to repress, was too violent to be support- 
 ed, and she sunk in helpless exhaustion on the 
 grass. 
 
 The prince soon forgot his own distressing 
 feelings in his alann for his '* dearest girl," 
 as he now ventured to call the being whom, 
 a few hours before, he would have looked 
 upon as ** ensky'd and sainted,"* and ap- 
 proached with the awe which female dignity, 
 when accompanied with sweetmess of manner. 
 
 * Measure tV-r ^J(a'■ul•c^ 
 
 g2
 
 1-54 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 always commands ; such levelling power has 
 mutual danger over human beings. 
 
 " My dearest girl," he sighed, " what can 
 I do for you ? I tremble lest the exertions 
 you have made on my account may prove fa- 
 tal to you." 
 
 " O no," she replied languidly, ** I shall 
 soon be well. I was alarmed to think of your 
 falling from that frightful crag." 
 
 The soothing attentions of the prince re- 
 stored her spirits, and quieted her apprehen- 
 sions, while it rivetted more deeply the fond- 
 ness which was rising in her heart. The in- 
 terchange of sentiments and vows of eternal 
 fidelity, however, which would perhaps have 
 ensued in other circumstances, it would have 
 been perilous in the present case to have in- 
 dulged. They again heard the shouts of their 
 pursuers from below, and the morning would 
 soon involve them in new difficulties. 
 
 Both seemed to have lost the recollection 
 of what had happened or might happen. She 
 spoke no more of returning, for she knew
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 155 
 
 that nothing short of her life would satisfy the 
 vengeance of O'Neil, when he found that she 
 had aided the escape of his prisoner ; and she 
 even half fancied that his dark suspicions had 
 sent those very men to track their footsteps. 
 On the other hand, she dared not go to her 
 father, and she could not go with Malthuine, 
 although she secretly wished to do so ; but 
 without saying she would accompany him, 
 and even without thinking of it, for she dared 
 not, she had already followed him a consider- 
 able way up the slope of the hill, whose dark 
 outline she had before pointed out as one of 
 the heights above Dalriogh.
 
 156 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 If your influence be quite rlamm'd up 
 
 With black usurping mists, some gentle taper. 
 
 Though a rush-candle from the wicker hole 
 
 Of some clay habitation, visit us 
 
 With thy long levell'd line of streaming light. 
 
 ^Milton's Comus. 
 
 As they turned the bend of the hill, the 
 valley and the encampment lay below them, 
 with its waving boundary of mountains on the 
 starry horizon, and the irregular groups of 
 its dark woods. When they looked toward 
 the tents, they perceived that some extraor- 
 dinary movement was going forward, for 
 lights were seen in hurrying progress among 
 the trees, and the din of confusion rose on 
 the still evening air like the dashing of the 
 sea-breakers, or the gusty roar of a storm in a
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 157 
 
 mountain-forest. There was nothing, how- 
 ever, which indicated a hostile conflict. It 
 was more like the turbulence and uncertainty 
 of alarm, — at least the prince hoped so, — 
 than an actual engagement. The lights con- 
 tinued to reel from tent to tent ; and the con- 
 fused bustle of the hunters melted into one 
 uniform hum, which was only broken by the 
 loud baying of the stag-hounds. No living 
 thing was at rest there, and the lofty oaks 
 which stood like sentinels around, seemed 
 hushed into wonder, and the dim stars looked 
 silently down with the winking of a troubled 
 dreamer. 
 
 All at once the confused hurry was drown- 
 ed in the clang of attack, and our wanderers 
 of the hill could see the terrific spectacle of 
 O'NeiPs band rushing from among the oaks at 
 the head of the valley, armed with brands 
 formed of bundles of dry brushwood fixed on 
 long poles. They even marked one of the as- 
 sailants, while still in the wood, running from 
 tree to tree with a torch to communicate its
 
 158 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 flame to the brands of his comrades, and saw 
 the line of flame extending at broken inter- 
 vals through the wood, and glaring on the 
 brown faces of the warriors. With these for- 
 midable weapons, they advanced on the en- 
 campment, and in an instant the first row of 
 tents blazed up in rapid conflagration, and 
 lighted the whole sweep of the valley and the 
 surrounding amphitheatre of hills. 
 
 The prince was so agitated with the scene, 
 that more than once he so far forgot his 
 beautiful companion as to break furiously 
 away towards the encampment, till her voice 
 recalled him, and her need of his protection 
 subdued the towerings of his hostile ardour, 
 and chained him to her side, a troubled spec- 
 tator of the devastation. His agitation was 
 wound up to frenzy when he saw the assail- 
 ants carrying all before them, and seemingly 
 without opposition ; but hope readily made 
 the best even of this, and suggested the flight 
 and safety of his father's band, though he 
 could not well brook the thought, when
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 159 
 
 O' Neil's party were so inferior in numbers; 
 The conflagration was soon spread over the 
 whole encampment, and he could distinguish 
 the crescent of flame which arose from the 
 tents where he had slain the wild boar. 
 
 Here the progress of the assailants was 
 stopt, and the loyal slogan of " Ferragh aboo !" 
 resounded through the long tract of the val- 
 ley. The clash of weapons followed ; and 
 they of the hill perceived, by the light of tlie 
 flaming tents, the dark figures of the com- 
 batants crossing and skirmishing among the 
 trees. One party seemed to be driven out 
 into the open meadow beyond the tents, if 
 they were not deceived by fancy ; for they 
 imagined they could see a dark body of war- 
 riors driving scatteredly over the field like the 
 shadow of a broken rain-cloud, and even the 
 passing gleam of a spear, as it caught the re- 
 flection of the flames, shot occasionally through 
 the smoke. The main body were heard shout- 
 ing from the edge of the brook, where was 
 the hottest of the fight, in contending for the
 
 160 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 passage, and the dark skirts of their broken 
 lines, as the combatants closed and fell, or al- 
 ternately repelled and shrunk in the struggle, 
 imaged the midnight tide when its waves meet 
 the red torrent of a river, and foam, and 
 jumble, and sink, on the doubtful boundary. 
 
 The pass of the brook was won. By whom 
 they could not know ; but the scattered shouts 
 from the woods on the hither bank, proclaim- 
 ed that the combat was changed into a rout, 
 and the stream of the pursuit rolled towards 
 the hill, where our agitated fugitives were 
 standing in the horrors of suspense, and 
 straining eye and ear to feed their anxiety. 
 Ethne, who had more presence of mind than 
 the prince, perceived their danger should 
 they come to be involved among the pursu- 
 ing and pursued, as seemed unavoidable, for 
 he was unarmed, and withal rash and full of 
 ardour. At her suggestion, therefore, they 
 withdrew under the obscurity of a rock over- 
 hung with hazel bushes, till the pursuit should 
 cease, or till they might make some discovery
 
 SAINT PATRICK. l6l 
 
 of the fortune of the night. Hie shouting 
 soon neared upon tlieir retreat, and they 
 could distinguish voices which they knew, ut- 
 tering their brief curses and exclamations as 
 they hurried by ; and sometimes they could 
 see the indistinct figures of the combatants as 
 they climbed the slope beside them. 
 
 ** ril not a foot farther for man nor devil,'^ 
 growled a voice from the rock above them. 
 ** Coward, shall never be boomed over the 
 caini of Trassy by every scurvy bard that pas- 
 ses it." 
 
 «* The auP thief be i' their limbs,'* echoed 
 another voice from below, ** they rin like as 
 mony maukins, Huiley, huiley, ye couart 
 loons. Stey till ance ye get a prieving o' the 
 claymore." And they heard the rustling of 
 the hazels as the challenger forced his way 
 after the *' couarts," as he called them. 
 
 ** What are you ?" cried the first speaker, 
 as the Caledonian mounted the rock ; but, as 
 he mistook the gigantic figure of Trassy, post- 
 ed in such a place, for some wandering hunter,
 
 162 SAINT PATRICK* 
 
 as it was somewhat out of the line where the 
 main body were passing, he was more dis- 
 posed to ask than to ansvv^er questions. 
 
 " Ye'll maybe no ken, freen', whar ony o* 
 thae runnigates has dern'd upo' the hill here ? 
 gin ye could aiit me tae ane o' them, we wad 
 let you see a fine trevallie. Tae come doun 
 the cleugh yon gate, i* the night time, yawin 
 like a wheen wulcats ! I canna but think on 
 the couarts yet." 
 
 ** I am one of those you seek,'* said Trassy 
 with fury, at which the Caledonian instantly 
 rushed upon him with his broadsword, but 
 was met by a thrust from the spear of Trassy 
 which he caught on his target, though it made 
 him stagger several paces back. He recover- 
 ed his ground, and again closed upon his foe, 
 and both finding their unwieldy weapons an 
 encumbrance, dropt them and seized their 
 skeyns or short daggers^ and grappled to- 
 gether with savage fury, alternately aiming 
 and parrying their dreadful thrusts. They 
 were so equally matched, that neither seemed
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 16^ 
 
 likely to be victorious, for what the Caledo- 
 nian wanted in firmness of limb, he supplied 
 by skill and coolness, the absence of which 
 in the Hibernian, reduced the effect of his 
 more brawny arms and his more confirmed 
 manhood. At last, in one of his rash thrusts, 
 he left his breast unguarded, and his anta- 
 gonist plunged his weapon in his heart. 
 
 " Are the' ony mae o' ye hereawa wad 
 like tae pree the airn ?'* said the victorious 
 youth to the dying warrior with the utmost 
 composure, though panting with the terrible 
 exertions he had just J)ut forth : — the spirit 
 of the grim Trassy had already gone to his 
 fathers. 
 
 The prince and the druidess had kept an 
 anxious silence during the whole of this con- 
 flict, though they had been eloquent in the 
 intercourse of signs ; but now, as the din of 
 pursuit had died away beyond the hill, Mal- 
 thuine did not hesitate to step from his con- 
 cealment, and accosted the champion with 
 
 ** Well, Angus, my brave fellow, you have
 
 164 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 done for one of these villanous rebels, 1 
 think." 
 
 " His praesence be wi' us, that I sud sain 
 mysel," said Angus in alarm, " gif that's 
 no the prince or his wraith, an', gude saf ' us, 
 if it didna speak ho'w." 
 
 Malthuine hearing his muttering, and judg- 
 ing that his thoughts were a little confused 
 from the terrible scene he had just been act- 
 ing, again addressed him, and, at last, got him 
 to comprehend that he was not conferring 
 with an unearthly being. But nothing could 
 equal the astonishment of Angus when Mal- 
 thuine led forth the lady from the bushes. 
 The prince's impatient inquiries about the 
 safety of his father and sister were satisfac- 
 torily answered ; and Angus was prevailed on 
 to escort them to the smoking ruins of the 
 encampment, though " he wad 'a been blythe 
 tae hae had anither bicker wi' the rin- 
 awas." 
 
 In their way thither Angus gave them all
 
 SAINT PATRICK. l65 
 
 the particulars of the attack, so far as he had 
 learned them, and we shall do him the justice 
 to use his own words, having often seen the 
 evils of a second edition of a story. Mal- 
 thuine had put the question, how they got 
 notice of 0*Neil's approach ? 
 
 Angus answered : — ** Oo, I can tell ye that 
 weel ; for ye see, wi' your will, when ye war 
 no liken tae come back, we thought ye war' a' 
 gane a bellwaverin thegither. An*, thinks I, 
 rU just dauner up the ho'w o' the cleugh 
 here, an' see that they hinna met wi' ony 
 mishanter, wha kens what may hae come o'er 
 them. An' I gaed and gaed, and better 
 gaed, but the ne'er a bit o' me could get a 
 glint o' ane o' ye amang thae aul' warlock 
 neuks, whar there's no the meath o' a peth 
 atween roke an' water. Weel, I e'en had a 
 sair heart to think that the' war' nane o' ye 
 tae be fun', an' whun I had scraumblet up as 
 ferr's the lin an' nae words o' ye, I didna 
 ken weel what to do> for, by this time, it wa«
 
 166 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 turn't gayan gloam't, an' the high scaurs 
 looket sae elrichlike, an' the hcwl^ts war' 
 scraughin o'er aboon me, that, I'se no lie tae 
 ye, I grew a wee thing eerie, though I'm no 
 that easy fleyed. Weel, tae mak a lang tale 
 short, I turn't at the lin, jealousing that ye 
 wad be a' hame afove me, an' saebins ye war- 
 na, maybe some hill stravauger wad hae seen 
 or heard tell o' ye. 
 
 " But tae gang back was easier said nor done, 
 for it grew pit-mirk, an' I fell o'er ae roke, 
 an' stack i' the cleavin o' anither, till 1 thought 
 I sud hae been made clean out. Ae time I 
 was sae demmished that I fell awae amang the 
 stanes, an' hou lang I lay in a dwaum I canna 
 tell ye. But, O gif Providence binna kin' 
 tae us! for, though I had got a fell crunt 
 ahint the haflfit, I wan up wi' a warsle, an' 
 fan' I could doiter o'er the stenners ne'er- 
 betheless. WeeU as I'm telling ye, this 
 blype o' a fa' was the luckiest thing that 
 could hae come o'er me, for whun I rase an^ 
 streeket mysel tae tak' the road, the uncoest
 
 SAINT PATRICK. l67 
 
 soun' cam* doun the cleugh ye ever heard. 
 I was for thinking at first it was the clawm- 
 shells, * or the houlets an' the wulcats tryin' 
 wha wad mak' the loudest scraigh ; yet it was 
 na like them netherans I thought again. But 
 I couldna believe my ain e'en whun I looket 
 up amang the craigs an' saw a red seance o* 
 light beekin' on the taps o' the highest o' 
 them, an' aye the tither yellagh louder nor 
 the ane afore't, gar't my vera lugs ring. 
 
 " This, ye needna wonner, put me tae a 
 swither what to think, but I jealoused the* 
 war' some nae gude afit. Sae I thought I 
 wad wyte on a wee blink, an' wi' that I sat me 
 doun at the lip o' the bum tae see what it 
 wad come to. At lang an' the length, the 
 yellaghan gaed o'er, an' I was risin' tae come 
 awa' whun I sees mair lights nor ane or twa 
 
 * The claxvmshells is a wild sound supposed to be 
 made by goblins in the air. This notion is supposed 
 to have originated in the nose made by pilgrims strik- 
 ing their scallops. Jameson in roc. 4;to edit.
 
 168 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 joukin up amang the bare craigs at the lin, 
 like spunkie in a moss, an' a clanjamfry o' 
 grusome lookin' chiel's alang wi' them. I 
 soon saw by them they war' for playin some 
 pliskin, an' in I cowrs ahint a rangel o' stanes 
 till they cam' evenforenent me. Than, there 
 was a bit foumart, puir thing, that had crup- 
 pin out o' its hole tae look for its supper an' 
 whun ane o' them sees it, he lute drive at the 
 creature wi' a dart he had, an' kill't it, an' 
 they a' gather't roun't an' dippet their un- 
 happy weapons in the bluid, " the pagans — 
 guid forgi'me» madam, for sayin sae o' your 
 freens. I saw then what they war' for, but, 
 thinks I chaps, ye're afF your eggs for ance 
 gif ye ettle to come on us the 'te'en at on- 
 awares. 
 
 " Wi' that I spraughled up amang the 
 rokes wi' a' the birr 1 had, an' took a short 
 cut through the wuds to the camp, an' ye 
 
 * See Be]leii<Jen*s discriplion of Albion in Boece's 
 Chroniklis. Black-letter, fol. Edinb, 1541. 
 
 I
 
 SAINT PATRICK. l60 
 
 wadiia said sax till I had a' our fo*k rinnin heads 
 an' thraws throu'ither, an' pittin a' things 
 out o' the gate, out owre the burn, vvhar ye . 
 ken there's a bonny green know an' a beltin 
 o' trees roun't, that we ust tae ca' the boor- 
 tree know. Weel, the leddies, some o' them 
 sair fley't puir things, war a' got safe tae the 
 booitree know, an' the men war dra^vn up 
 amang the trees tae defend them, a gay while 
 afore the vile scums wan for'et, so that they 
 could do nae great ill tae speak o', haud aff 
 the burning o' the twae'ree braw^ tents, that 
 we can soon big again, as lang's the're stab an* 
 ryse in the wuds o' Dalriogh. Weel, i' the 
 middle o' the stramash, ye'll no hinner Bryan 
 tae gang owre the burn an' couk about 
 through the busses like a whitret, till he sees 
 that the enemy are no sae numerous as we 
 had thought. He's a sleeket fallow yon, I'se 
 be bail. Weel, back he cowrs an' tells ; an' 
 than there w^as the kemp whae tae get the 
 first loun'er at the reivers — ye ne'er saw the 
 like o't. The couarts didna staun' us a jiffy, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 170 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 but aflPtae the hills wi' themsel, like a herd o' 
 raes an' a pack o' hun's at their heels, an' 
 they'r a' owre the hip o' the hill there, as ye 
 hear." 
 
 By the time Angus had finished his story 
 of the ** Reivers Race," as he called the 
 affair, they were drawing near to the ** boor- 
 tree know," where the weaker vessels belong- 
 ing to the encampment were safely stationed. 
 The beautiful fugitive, however, who had 
 never trusted herself to think where she was 
 going, now hesitated to venture among the 
 enemies of her fiiith, even under the protec- 
 tion of the prince, and had a half wish to set 
 out immediately to her father, arduous as the 
 journey was, and throw herself on his mercy. 
 This was overruled by Malthuine, who pro- 
 posed, that she should remain with his sister 
 till she recovered her spirits, and till they de- 
 vised some plan of escorting her in safety. 
 To this she was compelled to give her assent, 
 and Angus was despatched to prepare the 
 princess for her fair guest. He soon reached
 
 SAINT PATRICK 17^ 
 
 tlie trees, but it was not easy for him to get 
 through the crowd who encompassed him, as 
 pale and shadowy as the ghosts that surround- 
 ed Dante in purgatory, asking a whole tide of 
 questions in a breath. 
 
 " Wasn't it the king of Munster, Angus?" 
 said one anxiously. 
 
 ** No, that it wasn't,** said another. " I 
 saw by the making of their cloaks they must 
 be Connaught men ; weren't they, Angus?'* 
 
 " Gae wa', gae wa'," said an old Caledo- 
 nian nurse, *'an' no fash the callan. I'll wud 
 it wasna anither levin' nor tliat wild rip 
 O'Neil, that's tae be married tae aul' Bras- 
 sail's dochter they say. Wasna't just him 
 nou, Angus, my man?" He could not re- 
 ply to so many isochronous questions, and at 
 last he got through the crowd to the princess, 
 who was so agitated about the fate of her bro- 
 ther, who had so mysteriously disappeared, 
 that it was some time before he could make 
 her comprehend his message, and he began to 
 have his apprehensions that she ** wasna just
 
 172 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 liersel," for she looked wild enougli with her 
 long yellow hair hanging tangled about her 
 face, and her eyes red and bewildered. The 
 name of her brother, however, roused her 
 from her dream, and she ran wildly out and 
 met him with all the frenzy of tumultuous 
 
 joy. 
 
 As soon as the pursuers returned, a grand 
 council was held to determine on the best 
 means of opposing this audacious defection of 
 the druidical party, which had hitherto been 
 concealed in heart-burnings, and grumbling, 
 and whispering in corners ; * and had now 
 shown itself under a formidable leader, in the 
 person of Ere O'Neil. The captivity of Saint 
 Patrick was a topic of melancholy discussion, 
 and the want of his sage counsels, at such a 
 crisis, was deeply felt. The prince had drawn 
 from his fair deliverer, that he was not con- 
 fined at Cloghambree ; but had been sent off 
 
 * Kara ywi/ag C\jg^£(poiMSvot ^gog §g dKXriXoig n.om'kfh 
 yj/v.— LuciAN.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 17^ 
 
 under a strong escort to her father, so that 
 it would be next to hnpossible to effect his 
 liberation. The druidess could not assist 
 them, even if she had been willing to exert 
 her influence against her friends ; for she was 
 now implicated in the escape of the prince, 
 which she feared would not be forgiven her. 
 Her design had been merely to give him an 
 opportunity of flight, but circumstances, as we 
 have seen, had discovered her connivance, and 
 forced her to accompany him. 
 
 Bryan, who would cheerfully have barter- 
 ed his life to be revenged on the rebels, as 
 soon as he learned the captivity of the saint, 
 volunteered his services to procure his liberty 
 or perish in the attempt ; with the proviso, 
 that, if he were killed, the king should ** do 
 somethin' for a little bit of a girl he had left 
 at the cabin, who wud be crying the life out 
 of her, the chil' loved him so." Bryants 
 scheme was to disguise himself as a harper, to 
 obtain access to such places as might be ne- 
 cessary, and to trust to his invention for tak-
 
 17^ SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 ing advantage of circumstances. Angus was 
 equally zealous to release his illustrious coni- 
 patriot, and requested to accompany the harp- 
 er in quality of harp-bearer, — an appendage 
 never dispensed with among the better order 
 of the Irish harpers in those days. * The 
 Caledonian also was well acquainted with the 
 country, and had several trusty comrades in 
 the North, who might be induced to assist 
 them if necessary. To this proposal Biyan 
 agreed, though, perhaps, he would have pre- 
 ferred a ** boy with all the blood in his veins 
 Irish to the bone." They, accordingly, equipt 
 themselves in appropriate habiliments, and 
 pursued their journey with all possible speed 
 towards the northern coast of Ulster. 
 
 Walker's Irisli Bards.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 175 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Ench unhewn mass of living stone 
 Was chid in horrors not its own, 
 And at its base the trembling nations bow'd. 
 
 Rogers. 
 
 Saint Patrick, to whom our narrative now 
 turns, had begun his mission under rather un- 
 favourable auspices ; for he had been a cap- 
 tive during several years of his youth among 
 the very people he now came to tell, that 
 they were wandering in the ways of delusion 
 having been carried off from Strathclyde in 
 one of the numerous predatory excursions 
 made by the famous Niall of the nine hostages. 
 His predecessors in the good work had eifher 
 been too few in number, or they had wanted 
 energy, and the inspiration of indefatigable 
 zeal and enthusiasm, so indispensable to cap- 
 tivate both the rude and the civilized. Of
 
 176 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 these Patrick had a more than common share, 
 with the addition of a profound knowledge of 
 human nature, and a considerable acquaint- 
 ance with the human learnhig of his day. 
 Hardships in youth had given a firmness and 
 a certain temerity to his character, which it 
 could not have acquired had he remained 
 quietly under the roof of the good presbyter, 
 his father, on the banks of the Clyde ; and 
 his subsequent peregrinations in France, Italy, 
 and the beautiful islands of the Mediterra- 
 nean, had added much to his knowledge of 
 men and books.* 
 
 He had, at an early period of life,t imbib- 
 ed a strong wish to see the salutary doctrines 
 of the cross substituted for the superstitions 
 which then disgraced many parts of the Bri- 
 tish Isles, and none more than the unhappy 
 country where he had spent several years of 
 
 • Jocelin in vita Sancti Patricii. 
 t Trans, of the Antiq. Soc. of Scotland, Vol. II. 
 Pait I.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 177 
 
 his youth in bitter captivity. The Druids, 
 who had been persecuted by the Romans in 
 Wales, and their chief settlement in the island 
 of Mona destroyed, took refuge in Ireland, 
 whither a few stragglers had previously found 
 their way. They soon succeeded, by means 
 of their knowledge in medicine and surgery, 
 and particularly by their incantations, to make 
 the credulous and unsuspecting Hibernians 
 converts to their doctrines. Theirs was a 
 system of terror ; they had no mild method 
 of soothing the minds of their infatuated de- 
 votees. As they gained influence, they ven- 
 tured to denounce public calamities unless 
 their demands were complied with ; and, from 
 their knowledge of Astronomy, they swayed 
 the terrors of their superstition by predicting 
 eclipses. This, to a nation still in a state of 
 primitive simplicity, was an undeniable in- 
 stance of supernatural power possessed by 
 these designing priests ; and the kings and 
 the nobles accordingly bowled in humble sub- 
 mission to their counsels. They increased the
 
 178 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 dread of their superstitions, by the horrific 
 and infernal rite of human sacrifices, and the 
 thunders of excommunication, which they 
 wielded with the deepest policy. In a word, 
 they had acquired the most unlimited direc- 
 tion of the affairs of the Irish princes, either 
 by intermarriages, or by the machinations of 
 .political intrigue. 
 
 Such was the state of things when the 
 Catholic missionaries ariived, of whom Saint 
 Palladius was the first. They were instruct- 
 ed, like the Jesuits in aftertimes, to use at 
 first the most artful insinuation, humouring 
 and even complying with the pagan supersti- 
 tions, in such particular instances as prudence 
 should suggest, under pretence, that it was a 
 part of their own ritual ; till they found them- 
 selves possessed of sufficient influence to throw 
 off the mask, when they could modify the 
 rites, so as not to offend the prejudices of the 
 people. The effects of this mode of pro- 
 cedure are still prominent in every part of 
 Europe, particularly in the countries which
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 179 
 
 remain under the spii-itual dominion of Rome. 
 The Reformation did much to eradicate the 
 more glaring of these unchristian rites which 
 had entwined themselves with the gospel ; 
 but it has not wholly grubbed up the tena- 
 cious rootlings. Witness the remains of the 
 autumnal sacrifice of fruits in the pulling of 
 coleworts, diving for apples, and burning of 
 nuts on Hallowmas eve, in Scotland ; the 
 sacrifice to the Goddess of Summer, in the 
 decorations of the May-pole in England and 
 Ireland ; and the passing the bottle in drink- 
 ing by the course of the sun, which is purely 
 Druidical ; with numerous other vestiges which 
 can still be traced, and otherwise cannot be sa- 
 tisfactorily explained. 
 
 The Catholic missionaries also found it 
 indispensable to their success to cope with 
 their rivals in their knowledge of nature, par- 
 ticularly astronomy and the use of herbs. For 
 their knowledge in surgery, several of the 
 early saints of our islands were very famous ; 
 and the Scottish Highlanders, it is said, have
 
 180 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 to this day a salve, the recipe for which is 
 traced by tradition to the famous Saint Co- 
 lumba of lona. The monks reported all their 
 cures as miracles ; — for example, Saint Patrick 
 had influence, by means of prayer, to bring 
 down the archangel Michael, in fonn of a 
 pigeon, to pull a bone out of Logaire's son's 
 throat, which he had unluckily swallowed : * 
 and so of the rest. 
 
 It has already been incidentally mention- 
 ed, that Saint Patrick, after being sent to Ire- 
 land by Pope Celestine to succeed Palladius, 
 who had laboured fruitlessly, soon acquired 
 great influence at the court of Logaire, at that 
 time virtual monarch of Ireland, so far as one 
 prince could be said to be monarch of a coun- 
 try divided among a number of independent 
 chiefs, who were only induced to coalesce in 
 attacking a common enemy, or in defending 
 themselves from invasion, and who, for the 
 sake of unanimity, were compelled to elect a 
 
 ♦ O'Connor's Keating in reg. Laogaire,
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 181 
 
 dictator or general. The chief, upon whom 
 such honour was conferred, was usually in- 
 debted for his elevation to his known personal 
 courage or wisdom, or to the extent of his 
 dominion. In Logaire all of the^e qualifica- 
 tions were in a certain degree united. He 
 had under immediate sway a very powerful 
 district of the island ; his bravery in the field 
 had been often proved ; and few could cope 
 with him in the wise manao:ement of difficult 
 affairs. The latter he effected more by his 
 careful selection of counsellors, than by origin- 
 al invention of his own, and he was quick- 
 sighted in perceiving the advantages and dis- 
 advantages of a suggestion, although it might 
 never have struck his own mind. 
 
 Logaire, after his accession, now perceived 
 that his court was infested by a tribe of bards, 
 who swarmed, and even ruled, wherever they 
 found it advantageous. To this nuisance, 
 however, he was compelled to submit ; for it 
 was dangerous, he found, to intenneddle with 
 what bore the venerable stamp of established
 
 18^ SAINT PxVTRICK. 
 
 usage. By intelligence from Albyn he glad- 
 ly-learned, that a new order of thmgs had 
 commenced there under the preaching of 
 Palladius, and that, even in his own domi- 
 nions, the new religion had been secretly 
 working its way, particularly among such 
 Caledonians as made a temporary residence 
 there, which in these days was common, the 
 love of wandering is so inseparable from a 
 race of hunters. It is reported, that Logaire 
 was strongly prompted to favour the new 
 religion by his Queen, who had been con- 
 verted by one of these zealous fathers ; it 
 being always a maxim with them to secure 
 female support. 
 
 When it was understood by the conclave 
 at Rome, that Ireland was in such favourable 
 circumstances for receiving the faith, not- 
 withstanduig the failure of Palladius, no time 
 was lost in choosing some leading person to 
 undertake the mission ; and as Patrick, who 
 was then a Presbyter at Rome, was better 
 qualified than any other from his zeal, his
 
 SAINT PATRICK, 183 
 
 learning, and, above, all, by his knowledge of 
 the Irish, he had no rival competitor for the 
 appointment. He had, on his landing, been 
 received with distinction by the king, he 
 was abundantly successful in combating su- 
 perstition, and he soon rendered himself in- 
 dispensable in the counsels of the cabinet by 
 his superiority of knowledge and genius. In- 
 deed, he was a constant inmate of the palace, 
 and seldom left the court, contriving to ma- 
 nage the conversion of the remote districts 
 chiefly by means of presbyters, and other 
 religious ; thirty of whom he had brought 
 with him on landing. But though he was 
 a resident amidst the bustle and gaiety of the 
 court, he lived with all the austerity of an 
 anchoret, and indulged in solitary and se- 
 cluded rambles, pondering thoughtfully on 
 his great work, and only relaxing from his 
 anxious cogitations to collect such simples as 
 he found necessary to establish his skill in 
 healing. 
 
 It was in one of those solitary rambles, as
 
 1S4> SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 we have seen, that he unluckily stumbled upon 
 the retreat of the ambitious rebel at Clogh- 
 arnbrec, and was exultingly secured in the 
 pile. Many a savage counsel rolled through 
 the mind of that stem chief, on this unfore- 
 seen good fortune. He viewed it on all sides, 
 and in all relations ; and in his straining to 
 make the most of his illustrious captive, he 
 was hazarding the chance of overshooting his 
 mark, and of accomplishing nothing. He 
 did not even hesitate to think of renouncing 
 his friends the Druids, who, he concluded, 
 on his own principles, were only his friends, 
 in so far as it favoured their interest by his 
 affording them countenance and protection. 
 He did not foresee, that it was contrary to 
 the unalterable rules of the Catholic Mis- 
 sionaries, to take part with a rebel chief, 
 whose power was inferior to that of the ex- 
 isting authorities, even could he have shown 
 his right to be considered as the lawful prince. 
 He decided at least to sound his prisoner, and 
 ordered him to a private conference.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 185 
 
 The result of the conference was unfavoura- 
 ble : all the sinister logic of 0*Neil was lost 
 on the apostle, who showed such di^^nity and 
 indescribable superiority of demeanour, that 
 G-Neil himself, stern as he was, looked over- 
 awed, and felt how little even his determined 
 spirit was, when opposed to unshaken upright- 
 ness, accompanied by all the majesty of intellect 
 and genius. He felt that the clear and for- 
 cible reasoning of the saint was beginning to 
 awaken impertinent doubts in his mind, as to 
 the propriety of his proceedings, which he 
 always wished to stifle ; and he feared lest the 
 same power of reasoning, and his dignified 
 and authoritative manner, might operate on 
 his followers, and detach them fi'om his in- 
 terests, or at least render them cool in exe- 
 cuting his desijxns. 
 
 On these considerations, he changed his 
 intention ; and, in order to gain time to make 
 a final decision, he resolved instantly to send 
 Patrick under a strong guard to his friend 
 Brassail the arch-druid, who w^as the least
 
 186 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 likely person to be influenced by his doc- 
 trines. All this passed a few hours before 
 the capture of the prince ah-eady detailed ; 
 the grim escort having departed from Clog- 
 harnbrec, just as Malthuine surmounted the 
 waterfall. The rudest and most bloody of 
 the horde had been selected by O'Neil to 
 accompany the captive saint, and they had 
 peremptoi7 orders to hew him in pieces the 
 moment he should attempt to escape. This 
 dreaded accident, however, did not happen ; 
 and they arrived in safety within the sacred 
 precincts of Brassail's grove. 
 
 The northern coast of Ulster was at this 
 period the least civilized of all Logaire's do- 
 minions, and for that reason the Druids had 
 selected it as one of their chief stations, in- 
 duced also by the sublime scenery which 
 characterizes it, — a circumstance which they 
 seldom overlooked, aware of the influence it 
 has over the mind in the solemn ceremonies 
 of a superstition such as theirs, with its mid- 
 night festivals, mysterious initiations, and
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 187 
 
 dreadful sacrifices. The Catholics had not 
 yet penetrated to this sacred region, which 
 was chiefly under the sway of Ere O'Neil j 
 and all the policy which the ambitious chief 
 and the intriguing priests could muster, was 
 formidably arrayed to preserve their groves 
 and cromlechs uncontaminated by the in- 
 trusion of the Catholic missionaries. They fail- 
 ed not to exhibit their most terrifying incan- 
 tations, and human victims were often dragged 
 to their infernal altars to overawe the people, 
 and plunge their minds into superstitious 
 dread, while the most horrid execrations were 
 pronounced against the Catholic intruders, and 
 the most inhuman tortures inflicted upon such 
 of them as were unfortunate enough to fall 
 into the hands of these merciless priests.
 
 188 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Justum ct lenacem propositi virum— 
 Si iVactus illabatur orbis, 
 Impavidum ferient ruinae. 
 
 Horace^ III. S. 
 
 Imitated by Young* 
 His hand, the good- man fixes, on the sky, 
 And bids earth roll, nor feels the idle whirl. 
 
 Night Thoughts. 
 
 The residence of Brassail, to which the 
 Apostle was brought by his rough attendants, 
 was not far from the coast. A dark grove of 
 oaks spread over the fields around it, and ren- 
 dered the approach gloomy and mysterious ; 
 and many a winding path they had to thread, 
 and many a glade to cross, in this woody la- 
 byrinth, before they reached the awful abode 
 of this high-priest of the Druids, as if, in thus 
 concealing the sacred place, they wished pracr
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 189 
 
 tically to inculcate with the son of Sirach, 
 that ** Wisdom first leads through crooked 
 ways." The gloom, however, which was dif- 
 fused by the thick foliage and the inter- 
 weaving of the rank branches above them, 
 though it awed his savage attendants, had no 
 effect on the firm spirit of the captive Saint, 
 except of strengthening his resolution to bear 
 unshrinkingly whatever might befall him. 
 
 The idea of becoming a martyr, and dying 
 gloriously for the cause of truth, was to him 
 a subject of lofty exultation ; and he ven- 
 tured to hope, that his resisting to the death 
 would stamp an air of truth on the doctrines 
 he espoused, which would carry them home 
 to every heart, and spread the irresistible spi- 
 rit of zeal over every corner of the land, and 
 thus his death, or — as he delighted to consi- 
 der it — his martyrdom, would prove as effec- 
 tual in accomplishing his grand work as the 
 long and active life to w^hich he had looked 
 forward. He was indulging in these and si- 
 milar trains of thought, unconscious almost of
 
 190 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 the progress they were makiug through the 
 dark wood, when they arrived at a place more 
 gloomy than any they had yet passed. 
 
 Two row^s of bushy oaks, whose branches 
 met and mingled, bounded a long narrow 
 avenue, which they now entered, but whose 
 termination they could not see, on account of 
 the increasing darkness of the shade. This 
 dark avenue bore all the marks of desolation 
 and solitude. Thin tufts of withered grass 
 hung lank and dripping over the stones, 
 which were scattered on all sides, overgrown 
 with damp moss, and intermixed with the 
 rotting leaves of the preceding autumn. No 
 voice of living thing was to be heard ; for the 
 very birds seemed to have shunned it, and 
 their melancholy chirping was heard remote- 
 ly from the more open places of the wood. A 
 few drowsy insects seemed rather to float pas- 
 sively on the thick air, than to move them- 
 selves by their languid wings, and even the 
 grim spider had deserted this lifeless shade, 
 to spread his snares where the air was unload-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 191 
 
 ed of the comfortless moisture which every- 
 where hung in drops from the branches, and 
 was heard at intervals to patter among the 
 withered leaves. The glimpses of the sky, 
 which sometimes partially intruded through 
 the thinner branches, only added to the deso- 
 late picture, by showing the choked and 
 scanty vegetation, black layers and masses of 
 rotten leaves strewed on the path, and damp 
 mouldering stones, which appeared to be pre- 
 vented from crumbling to pieces, only by the 
 patches of dark green moss that surrounded 
 them. Tlie humming lapse of a stream in a 
 further part of the wood, shed a solemnity 
 over the whole, and oppressed the ear with a 
 heaviness almost tangible. 
 
 At the termination of this shady way was 
 the abode of the Arch-Druid, which was, if 
 possible, still more gloomy and mysterious ; 
 and the guides looked as much aghast, as if 
 they had seen the portentous inscription which 
 met the eye of Dante, when the shade of Vir-
 
 19^ SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 gil led him to the Porch of Erebus. * In 
 front, it was hid and defended by a cross rmv 
 of the largest and most venerable looking oaks 
 they had yet seen, whose thick boughs, " knit 
 with ivy-twine," t hung over what might be 
 a porch or a door-way, but it was so conceal- 
 ed in the shade of the trees, and by the cross- 
 ings of the lower twigs, that its outline could 
 not be traced. These crossings, however, 
 were not so free and random-like as the un- 
 constrained meeting of branches in the un- 
 trodden wilds of the forest. They bore marks 
 of being forcibly drawn from their natural 
 elevation by human artifice, and fonned into 
 the rude resemblance of a plashed fence. 
 
 They passed this singular entrance between 
 the growing columns which defended it, and 
 were introduced into a large gallery, as dark 
 as a starless midnight, with a ceiling or cano- 
 py of the same interwoven branches of the 
 
 ♦ Inferno, Cant. III. sub init, 
 T Spenser.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 193 
 
 growing oaks. Nothing could be more dun- 
 geon-like than this house of gloom ; and the 
 savage conductors of the Saint seemed to feel 
 a religious horror as they advanced, looking 
 cautiously at every step, and starting, appal- 
 led, when any solitary beam of wandering light 
 fell on the damp floor, and they scanned with 
 fearful prying the deeper black that filled the 
 intervals between the trees. 
 
 At a little distance from the entrance of 
 this gallery was a sort of partition of massive 
 stones placed at regular distances ; and in 
 the centre was a vacant space, like the gate 
 of a camp, at which they stopt short, as if 
 afraid to venture farther without permission. 
 Their pause was ominous of some catastrophe ; 
 for they dared not now look around them, and 
 kept their heads stiff and unveerable as the huge 
 oak trunks beside them. Their eye-lids alone 
 seemed capable of motion, — rising with heavy 
 dovsness, and maintaining their oppressed ele- 
 vation with evident pain. Their fear w^as not 
 imaginary ; for they were presently saluted 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 194 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 by the loud rolling of thunder, which seemed 
 to shake the solid earth, — the leaves above 
 them rustled ominously, — and they thought 
 they heard the crash of huge branches torn 
 asunder by this war of the elements. Gleams 
 of lightning flashed through the long colon- 
 nades of the trees, and showed their grey 
 trunks, like a file of guardian ghosts, embat- 
 tled to oppose Intrusion. Besides the hollow 
 roll of the thunder, they heard unearthly 
 sounds breaking around them, and the whole 
 air was polluted with the smell of burning 
 sulphur. 
 
 The bloody warriors, to whom the din of 
 battle and the horrors of carnage were fami- 
 liar, stood fearfully aghast at this conflict of 
 the elements, and wished they had been em- 
 ployed in any other expedition rather than 
 the escorting of an infidel, of whose advance 
 to this sacred place the Divinities of the air thus 
 expressed such abhorrence. For they had no 
 doubt that the thunder was the unequivocal 
 -expression of celestial anger, and they dread-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 19»^ 
 
 cd lest they might be involved in the de- 
 struction which so terribly threatened their 
 devoted captive. Indeed, it only seemed to 
 require the shrieks of despair, the waiiings 
 and thickening sobs of anguish, and the fierce 
 tones of blasphemy, to complete a picture of 
 Tartarus itself. 
 
 As the gleams of lightning became more 
 frequent, throwing a pale livid hue on all 
 around, — a dim figure was seen moving as 
 slowly as the shadow^ on the dial at the furthest 
 part of the area, and pausing at intervals, 
 seemingly to listen to the rolling of the thun- 
 der, or to start at the glare of the elemental 
 fire, which flashed through the thick canopy 
 of leaves above. As the figure advanced 
 slowly along the gallery, the blue flashes of 
 light fell upon his face, and disclosed the con- 
 tour of a long flowing robe, which mantled 
 its w^hite folds around hmi, - and gave him a 
 
 * See (he figure taken from an anLique bas-relief in 
 the second tome of Montfaiicon.
 
 196 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 stateliiiess of air so imposing, that he might 
 have been thought the animated statue of 
 some divinity, which had stept from its pe- 
 destal, to stalk through the gloom, or even 
 the God of Thunder himself, who had scat* 
 tered his veil of clouds, and moved along the 
 area, in human form, to survey the wrecks 
 of his ire. This majestic personage walked 
 in silent solemnity towards the intruders ; 
 and, on reaching an artificial mound which 
 fronted them, he raised himself on its sum- 
 mit, as if to give his high stature a more strik- 
 ing air, -and paused thoughtfully to sur\'ey the 
 group before him. 
 
 . " What are you, and whence ?*' said he, in 
 a deep musical tone of voice, such as we may 
 suppose once ch aimed the Grecian besiegers 
 of Troy, when the venerable Nestor address- 
 ed them. 
 
 *' We are true men," said the leader of the 
 band, assuming an air of courage which he 
 felt not, but was unwilling to discover his ter- 
 rors to his subalterns. " We are true men,
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 197 
 
 and bring from the valiant Ere 0*Neil this 
 arch-infidel a prisoner, td place him at the 
 disposal of the venerable Brassail." 
 
 " I aai Brassail," said the figure ; " bles- 
 sed be heaven that I have lived to see this 
 day !*' and he clasped his hands, and raised 
 them to his head, in sublime adoration of 
 his Gods, who, he conceived, had selected 
 him to establish in pristine splendour the tot- 
 tering fabric of Druidism, by thus throwing 
 into his hands his most deadly foe. 
 
 " Protect us, protect us, we implore thee, 
 from the wrath of the elements,'* was echoed 
 at once from several of the more superstitious 
 warriors, whom the thunder and their myste- 
 rious dread of the grove had terrified, — as 
 soon as they learned they were in the pre- 
 sence of this venerated personage. 
 
 Brassail immediately muttered some wild 
 incantations ; and, raising a small silver horn 
 to his mouth, he blew a shrill blast, which 
 rung drearily among the oaks, and melted 
 into the louder peal of the thunder that still
 
 198 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 rumbled through the air. Brassail bowed his 
 head with solemnity, — knelt on the turf, — 
 and raised his folded hands to heaven. He 
 then beckoned to them to advance within the 
 partition of stones ; and they eagerly obeyed 
 the signal, as if they would be secure in that 
 holy sanctuary. They led forward Saint Pa- 
 trick to the foot of the mound, and Brassail 
 descended, still repeating his incantations, 
 and walking backwards, till he had gone 
 thrice round him in a circle opposite to the 
 course of the sun. He encircled the warriors 
 also at a solemn pace, but in a contrary di- 
 rection. The instant he had completed the 
 pacing of his last gyration, the thunder ceased 
 to roll, and the lightning to flash, as if by 
 •magic ; and there was a deep and lifeless 
 pause for a moment, in which the ear, so 
 lately stunned by the thunder, strained idly 
 to catch the rustle of the grass, or the fall of 
 a leaf. All was still, as if the elements had 
 exhausted their fury, or sunk, like the wearied 
 wrestler, into the arms of sleep. The gloom
 
 SAINT PATRICK, 199 
 
 returned in all its blackness, and veiled the 
 secrets of the grove from farther scrutiny, 
 and the eye, dazzled by the lightning, felt 
 pained and repelled by the dark air. 
 
 Light again began to stream on the trunks 
 of the embattled oaks, but not the glaring 
 flicker of elemental fire : it was pale and blue, 
 and lay on the air like a thin mist, while there 
 appeared advancing silently from behind the 
 trees a number of men with small glimmering 
 torches, lining the gallery on each side as 
 far as the eye could reach ; and over their 
 heads aerial music floated through the silence 
 in wild and fitful cadence. 
 
 " You are safe," said Brassail : " Fail not 
 in your devotions, and my blessing shall rest 
 with you. What tidings do you bring of my 
 daughter ?'* 
 
 ** She is with O'Neil at Clogharnbrec. 
 She would have come with us ; but our ra- 
 pid journey was judged too hard for her en- 
 durance. She will be with you before the 
 Samh'in festival."
 
 SOO SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 " It is well : my blessing be with you and 
 your brave chief. Go to Rath-na-Carraig, 
 and you will be welcomed by our friends who 
 are mustering there to join the force at Clogh- 
 arnbrec. Tell O'Neil I shall see to this 
 infidel whom Heaven has so graciously placed 
 at our disposal ; he shall be properly reward- 
 ed for his machinations/' 
 
 The Apostle, from his entrance into the 
 dark avenue, had not uttered a word nor a 
 sigh. He was not overawed by the myste- 
 rious gloom which hung round this mansion 
 of superstition ; nor was he appalled by the 
 awful breaking of the thunder around him, 
 and the glare of the lightning flashing a- 
 mong the trees. He had heard that the 
 Druids dared to imitate these convulsions of 
 the elements to terrify their votaries ; but to 
 him it was alike indifferent whether the storm 
 was real, or only raised in mockery of Heaven. 
 His conscience was unstained by any crime 
 for which he did not trust for pardon ; and 
 he was resolved to meet his martyrdom with
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 201 
 
 undaunted firmness. Perhaps his very per- 
 secutors might be converted by his unshaken 
 courage, and to gain a single convert from 
 such infernal superstition, life itself was not 
 too dear a price. As his former conductors 
 withdrew, he was seized with fiendish joy by 
 the attendants of Brassail, and hurried away 
 to a remoter part of the grove. 
 
 i2
 
 202 SAINT PATRICK, 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 There was a light within, 
 A yellow ii^ht, as when the autumnal sun, 
 Through tjavelling rain and mist, 
 Shines on the evening hills. 
 
 Southey's Thalaba. 
 
 It was ** a raw and gusty" * morning in the 
 end of October, when Bryan and Angus, 
 after having travelled all night, entered an 
 elevated tract of heath overlooking the ocean. 
 The preceding evening had been clear and 
 promising, and the bright red tinge, which 
 " the weary sun making his golden set," t 
 threw on the clouds, as well as the chill breeze 
 that swept from the high grounds, betokened 
 the first setting in of the winter frosts. As the 
 night advanced, the sky overcast, and the 
 
 • Shakespeare. -f- Ibid.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 203 
 
 breeze became louder and more unsteady, 
 wafting over the heath wandering flakes of 
 half melted snow and drops of rain ; and long 
 before day-dreak these preludings of discom- 
 fort had increased to a continued shower of 
 sleet, which the wind beat rudely in the faces 
 of the hardy travellers. To this they had 
 been inured from infancy, and cared it not ; 
 yet human weakness, however seasoned, can- 
 not bear, without sinking, an indefinite por- 
 tion of fatigue, at the same time that it is 
 made the sport of the elements ; and hardy 
 and inured as our travellers were, they be- 
 gan to wish themselves snugly seated at a 
 comfortable breakfast, by the corner of a 
 warm hearth, — and the more so, that the 
 haze which capt the hills, and the wandering 
 and riding of the clouds, now grey with the 
 first breakings of the dawn, gave but little 
 hope of a cessation of hostilities on the part 
 of the aerial machineiy. 
 
 Angus, who was well acquainted with the 
 country, had a shrewd guess of a place of
 
 S04 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 shelter in the vicinity ; but as he had a mis- 
 chievous delight in teazing his companion, he 
 did not choose to communicate his secret, till 
 he had enjoyed Bryan's impatience. Angus 
 could S5rmpathize with Bryan's grief, and he 
 would have deemed it sacrilege to have turtied 
 it to mockery ; but he had no mercy on the 
 pain he suffered from the stonn. It was con- 
 tinuing to drive bitterly in their faces, and 
 forced Biyan to exclaim, 
 
 *' Soul and conscience ! if this same isn't 
 as bad as fighting sure, and never a bush 
 there is to be stan'ing in the face of that 
 coul' wind for a shelter, no nor a rock that 
 wud be all as one in case there'd be nade." 
 
 ** Oo man," replied Angus, as firmly as 
 the shivering of his under jaw would permit, 
 " ye're unco sune dung ; ye sud na forget, as 
 my aul'mither mony a time has tell't me, to 
 lippen aye tae Providence in a' your straits : 
 Providence is a rich provider." 
 
 " Well," said Bryan, ** if Providence wud 
 make the stonn quit, as you say, I wud be
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 205 
 
 entirely obliged to him, that's if there'd be a 
 cabin any where on the common, good or 
 bad." 
 
 " Na, na," replied the Caledonian, " we 
 hae e'en a lang gate tae gang yet or w^e'll 
 meet wi' ony thing tae ca' a house ; but fae 
 ye're sae impatientfu', what'll ye gi'e me to 
 conjure up a bit sheelin on the muir here ?" 
 and, as he spoke, he leered sarcastically at 
 Bryan, who hated magic, because it was dealt 
 in by the hated Druids. 
 
 ** Look ye, Sur," said the irritated Hiber- 
 nian, while the wind beat the cold snow in 
 his face, *' you must quit putting your jokes 
 upon me ; if you are after knowing of the 
 shaling you mintion, plase to go that's the 
 direct road, or, by the powers, I'm just the 
 boy to break all the bones in your carcase. 
 By dad, I'm not to be put upon, Sur." 
 
 ** Hout man," said Angus, as he secretly 
 enjoyed the fuming of his testy companion, 
 *' ye needna pit yoursel' in sican a pickle for 
 na'egear. I wad 'a ta'en ye tae the sheelin
 
 S06 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 gif the' be ane ; but I thought ye wadna like 
 me tae cast my cantrips for fin'in't out. Ah 
 laud, I ken mair joukery-pawkry nor ye're 
 thmking o', for a' your wusdom." 
 
 Bryan got still more enraged at this shuf- 
 fling of Angus, and the storm looked as if it 
 were borrowing strength from his angry 
 countenance, sweeping over the heath with 
 all the fury of a pursuing enemy, and brist- 
 ling up the windward branches of heath and 
 juniper into the resemblance of a herd of 
 hedgehogs or porcupines in battle array, 
 while the distant roar of the sea sung loud in 
 the air. Angus, whose feelings of cold were 
 silenced in some measure by his attention 
 being directed to his companion, persisted in 
 his mischievous tormenting. 
 
 *' Nou I'm quite sarious wi' ye,'' he con- 
 tinued, ** I learnt the gate frae a skilly kintra- 
 man o' mine ain, an' gin ye hae nae objec- 
 tions to count on, we'll try't for ance." 
 
 " Try what, Sur ?" said Bryan, still looking 
 moody and scowling.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 207 
 
 " Oo just the cantrips I was telling ye o' 
 for fin'in' out the sheeling," replied the un- 
 perturbed Angus. 
 
 Bryan was quite at his mercy, as he was as 
 completely ignorant of the surrounding topo- 
 graphy as of his own present locus ; and he 
 could perceive no indications of human abode. 
 Indeed, the copious rain which shot point 
 blank in their faces, had become more and 
 more mingled with snow, so that their view was 
 much contracted, and the surrounding heath 
 could only be obscurely scanned for a few 
 paces a-head. Bryan was, accordingly, forced 
 to acquiesce to whatever his companion pro- 
 posed, though he continued to look sullen 
 and gloomy to the no small amusement of the 
 waggish youth. 
 
 Angus now gathered a small slip of heath 
 and another of juniper, which he tied in form 
 of a cross, muttering the while a jargon which 
 he himself did not understand. 
 
 " Hae man baud a grip there," said Angus, 
 holding out his spell, ** aye that wey, turn't
 
 208 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 this gate, sees ye ; odsake my fingers is dinlin 
 afFat the nails wi' that blae win'.'* 
 
 The juncture was completed notwithstand- 
 ing the '* dinlin," and, with all due solem- 
 nity, he poised the cross over a dub of melt- 
 ing snow, which w^as collected in a depression 
 of the muddy soil, and accompanying the ce- 
 remony with a copious seasoning of the afore- 
 said jargon, he dropt the spell in the water. 
 It is impossible to picture, in language, the 
 rueful grinning of Bryan, as he submitted to 
 this trial of his impatience — it would be a 
 gross solecism to call it patience — for, on such 
 occasions, he could, like Costard, "thank God 
 he had as little patience as any other man." * 
 He was the more irritated that, with ail his 
 skill in decyphering the expression of the hu- 
 man countenance, he found it impossible to 
 say whether Angus was imposing on him, or 
 really believed in the efficacy of his spell, so 
 
 • Jiove's Lab. Lost.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. ^09 
 
 tight a rein had he kept on the laugh which 
 ^ was twinging eveiy inch of skin on his face to 
 fall into the requisite wrinkle. In this he 
 was assisted by the storm, wliich had frozen 
 and stiffened the more pliable i>ortions, and 
 spread a bleak hue over his cheek. It has 
 been observed, that, when a person is exposed 
 to cold like our wanderers, there is an acces- 
 sion and retrogression of the annoyance like 
 the cold and hot stages of an ague, or the 
 ebbing and flowing of the sea. One of these 
 accessions had now the effrontery to assail the 
 wag, and save the ** bothered" Hibernian from 
 circumstantial additions, which Angus medi- 
 tated to complete the mock incantation. In 
 short, he found that the cross pointed in a 
 direction, where, if he had not miscalculated, 
 the above mentioned sheeling had taken pos- 
 session of a few feet of the waste. 
 
 With hasty strides, accordingly, such as 
 their benumbed limbs allowed them to make, 
 they marched in the indicated direction, till 
 they could distinctly perceive, through the
 
 210 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 drifting snow, the agitated surf which broke 
 on the rocks of the beach before them. An- 
 gus carefully surv^eyed the bearings of the se- 
 veral points of the coast, pausing, by inter- 
 vals, like a hound at fault, to arrange in his 
 mind a chart to steer by. At last he turned 
 down a green slope which descended to the 
 beach, and was bounded on each side by a 
 ledge of rocks. Bryan was the first to per- 
 ceive the delightful pungency of smoke, and 
 those who have been caught in a snow storm 
 at a distance from human home, will readily 
 sympathize with him in his joy at the dis- 
 covery. 
 
 The singed appearance of a circular patch 
 of turf, near the summit of a small declivity, 
 which ran half way up the front of the right 
 hand rock, pointed out the source of the frag- 
 rance which the breeze — rather a stiff one in 
 this instance — was wafting along with the 
 snow over the heath. Besides this, there was 
 no other indication of " bigget laun',*' as 
 Angus generalized the term home ; but he 
 n
 
 I • SAINT PATRICK. 211 
 
 knew well how to ferret his way to a smok- 
 ing hearth ; and, looking at Bryan with a 
 knowing air, and motioning to him to follow, 
 he struck into a narrow cleft between a pro- 
 jecting angle of the rock and the declivity o n 
 which the patch of singed turf had been dis- 
 covered. The smoke which they were so 
 much rejoiced to see, met them in dense vo- 
 lumes as they advanced to the extremity of 
 the cleft, and through it they dimly perceiv- 
 ed on the left, a hole about three feet by four, 
 whence this fragrant tide was issuing its blue 
 waves, and within the hearth itself " looked 
 through the horizontal misty air shorn of its 
 beams." * 
 
 The mansion looked to be totally deserted, 
 and Bryan became half credulous of the power 
 of the ** cantrips*' Angus had performed with 
 his cross, and began to examine whether he 
 were not surrounded by the unearthly compan- 
 ions who had reared the sheeling, and lighted 
 
 Paradise Lost.
 
 §12 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 up the comfortable fire, of which he was now 
 enjoying the convenience, having stretched 
 his brawny limbs to each corner of it like the 
 sides of an isosceles triangle, his nether man 
 being propt on a large clumsy black stone, of 
 which he bad on entry taken immediate pos- 
 session. Angus had made a similar appro- 
 priation at the opposite side of the hearth. 
 Bryan's persevering scrutiny of the enchanted 
 sheeling, at last detected something in the 
 likeness of a little round smoky face, peeping 
 from behind a pile of dried turf and drifted 
 wood which was stored in a corner, for 
 the purpose of fuel. Surely his fancy was 
 not deceiving him, and carving in frolic a hu- 
 man face on the end of a smoked turf, such 
 tricks we know are played by " strong ima- 
 gination." ^ Angus was becoming accustom- 
 ed to Bryan's peculiar expression of counte- 
 nance, yet, in the present instance, he looked 
 so like '* one who sees a serpent in his way 
 
 * Midsummer Night's Dream.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 213 
 
 and back recoils," that he could not help ex- 
 claiming, 
 
 " Wa guide us man, I think ye be gaun 
 fey, what can ye see tae glowr at sae in a bing 
 o' peats 1 it wad be mair wyselike tae harl 
 twa'ree mae o' them inbye tae the ingle, nor 
 .tae vizzy that gate as ye war gaun tae slip an 
 arrow at a muircock." And he, accordingly, 
 went to the " bing" to replenish the fire, 
 when the same little pug face confronted him 
 which had attracted the scrutinizing eye of 
 Bryan. 
 
 " Beteach us !" he exclaimed, '* what hae 
 we here ? a wean I think," casting his eyes 
 over the contour of a little urchin boy, whose 
 white hair was soiled to greyness with smoke, 
 and who had crept behind the fuel, and rolled 
 himself up into the appearance of an apple 
 dumplin to escape detection. 
 
 ** It isn't Leprighaun* sure," whispered 
 
 * The Irish Puck,
 
 ^14 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 Bryan, " ye have been after dealing with. 
 Conscience ! if it wadn't be better a deal to 
 be on the common yet, nor keep staying in 
 this same cabin with the likes of such a 
 pranky spright." 
 
 " Leprighaun ! blethers !" cried Angus, 
 "its a bit wean, puir thing. Binna fleyed 
 my bonny man," continued he, patting his 
 smoky head, " there naething gaun to steer 
 you : a filscli o' a thing it's whun a's done. 
 What do they ca' you, chuffy ?" 
 
 The little fellow had been in doubts how 
 to act, and sat rolling his head from one 
 ishoulder to another like a sea-gull on a bil- 
 low, but gathering confidence from the sooth- 
 ing of Angus, he thrust his thumb into his 
 mouth as if to feel for an answer, and after 
 the question was repeatedly put, he muttered 
 through his fingers that his name was ** wee 
 Sannock Grougar." 
 
 *' Eh, Bryan, man," said Angus, " we're 
 fa'n on our feet," looking round as if he had
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 215 
 
 just began to recognise the walls, " I'll wud 
 my life this 'ill be lang Jock Grougar's, a 
 kintraman o' mine." 
 
 " Troth !" answered Bryan, " I've a fancy 
 your countrymen are to be foun' every where 
 on God's earth, that's when there is ever a 
 thing to ate." 
 
 This dialogue was interrupted by the sud- 
 den appearance of the car a sposa of " lang 
 Jock," who now entered the dwelling, driv- 
 ing before her, with both hands, *' a great 
 lubberly boy," * who seemed as unwilling to 
 move, and performed his movements with as 
 bad a grace as a gnarled oak when attacked 
 by the equinoctial winds. 
 
 ** I'll gar ye," vociferated the tender mo- 
 ther, *' ye wilyeart haingle, an' ye gi'e me 
 sic a fright this towmont. A bonny faught 
 fo'k has wi' ye tae bring ye up, an you tae 
 bourd wi' neck-breakin ilka time ye can get 
 
 * Mtrry Wives of Windsor.
 
 ^16 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 speelin a craig out o' kennin, ye unhappy 
 creature it ye are." 
 
 *' He's shylin his mouth at ye minnie,'* 
 remarked ** wee Sannock,'* forgetting the pre- 
 sence of the strangers in the interest he took 
 in his brother's punishment. 
 
 " Ye illfa'rt wonner," continued the mo- 
 ther, ** gin ye sheyl at me" — But her eye 
 at this moment caught the intruders, and she 
 finished the sentence with — ** Preserve us a', 
 wha hae we here, think we, sitting like craws 
 in a mist ?" 
 
 " Ye'U no ken me, guidwife, Ise warren, 
 but at apen doors dogs gae ben," said Angus, 
 forgetting that there was nothing in the shape 
 of a door about the sheeling. 
 
 *' Wa the dear pity me ! is this you Angus 
 man ?" returned Jenny Grougar, *' what win' 
 has blawn you here in sic grashiogh weather ? 
 An a harper too ye hae wi' ye I think. Bal- 
 die, man, fie haste ye, cast on a weghtfu' o' 
 peats on the hearth till I raak' ready some 
 breakfast; for gin ye hae come owre Ross-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. » 217 
 
 nock muir ye'll no be the war o' something 
 tae keep the heart wallopin." And away she 
 bustled to execute her hospitable intention, 
 without ever looking whether the refractory 
 Baldie was obeying her order. 
 
 vou I.
 
 f^lS SAINT PATRICK, 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ^' Towers and battlements he sees 
 Bosom'd high in tufted trees," 
 
 Milton's l'allegro. 
 
 ** With stout courage, ready to either of twae, 
 Owthir to bring his slight to guid assay. 
 Or, failing thereof, doubtless ready to die." 
 
 GAWIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 While the indispensable ceremonies of 
 breakfast were going through, they learned 
 that Grougar himself, as a retainer of O'Neil's, 
 had been called out to join the revolters, who 
 had arrived in great confusion the night be- 
 fore, and taken their station at Rath-na-Car- 
 raig, a fort at some distance to the westward, 
 No intelligence of Saint Patrick, however, 
 had yet been wafted to the ears of mine host- 
 ess of the sheeling; but when Angus, told 
 her how the matter stood, and hinted at their 
 
 10
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 219 
 
 design, trusting to the patriotic feelings of 
 Jenny for secrecy, she stared a moment at her 
 informer, as if doubting whether to credit 
 him, raising her hands at the same time in 
 token of surprise, but this suddenly changed 
 to a mingled emotion of fear and grief, which 
 she vented in, 
 
 ** O sirs ! then I doubt its a' owre wi' him, 
 the' war' ne'er ony body wan out o' their, 
 clutches it e'er I heard o'. It wad he a 
 tempin' o' Providence in you tae gang near 
 them whun ye're nane o' their ain fo'k." 
 
 " Hout 'oman," said Angus, " a's no tint 
 that's in peril : hae ye ony kin' o' guess whar 
 they'll hae him ? odd an' we could ance get 
 an inklin o' that, we wad try twa or three 
 gates but we wad begunk them ?" 
 
 " 1 wuss weel it wadna be easy tae say, but 
 ye may be sure they'll hae him in some hole 
 or bore about the Warlock-wud ; they keep a* 
 their secrets thereawa, an' naebody by them- 
 sels kens a' the loops and wumples o't j its
 
 220 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 no chancy tae gang near*t ; they're an uncanny 
 pack tae bourd wi'." 
 
 " True for you," said Bryan, who was 
 well aware of the danger, ** in respect of your 
 living among them ; but it makes all the diflPer 
 in the world, if we manage the jab and tip 
 them the scope of our heels when we'd be out 
 of raech, consider." 
 
 ** Eh ! — " exclaimed Jenny, roused from a 
 momentary fit of musing, ** na that winna do; 
 they wadna be a jiffy o' gripping ye like a 
 gled, they're no sae ae-haun't. But stay, let 
 me see, an' ye could won hidlins down tae 
 the shore, we might aibles jink the warlocks, 
 an* it warn a thae fearsome craigs o'er about 
 Pleaskin and Binguthar * that ye wad hae 
 tae gang down, an' our bit curragh's no that 
 rackle sin it got a stave on Monanday was 
 aughtnicrhts on the Partan-rock : but O ! what 
 wad come o' my gudeman an' the bits o' weans, 
 
 * Binoriithar, the ancient name of the Giant's Cause- 
 way.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 221 
 
 au* our wee cozzy house here, gin ye war tae 
 get the boatie for sican an en' ? yet its a sair 
 pity to see Clutie's ain augents owrgangin the 
 hale kintra this gate too 1 " 
 
 " Is it the childer ?" said Bryan, " oh sor- 
 row a bit of trouble shall happen them or 
 you, 1*11 engage ; and the king will bestow 
 you as snug a cabin as ye wud'nt know from 
 the palace itself if ye were blindfolded, that's 
 wad ye len' us the loan of the curragh.*' 
 
 Jenny w^as caught by the bait of obtaining 
 a " haudin," as she termed it, from the k\t\g, 
 and was also influenced by tlie purer motive 
 of releasing her countryman trom the Druids, 
 to whom she was no frieiid, although she 
 feared them. There was still the difficulty 
 of gaining over Grougar himself, who was a 
 staunch adherent of O' Neil's, for which de- 
 fault Jenny took frequent opportunities to 
 employ the weapon of domestic vituperation, 
 being rather an adept in its use ; and, on this 
 occasion, she pledged her influence in the 
 good cause over her other half. It was ac-
 
 22^ SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 cordingly agreed upon that Angus, assisted 
 by Grougar, should bring round the boat and 
 lie too off' Pleaskin, on the eve of the Samh'in 
 festival, while Bryan engaged to effect the es- 
 cape of the Apostle from the adjacent grove, in 
 whose recesses he was immured. Bryan, also, 
 under the shelter of his disguise, was to take 
 the fort in his way, and apprise Grotigar that 
 his presence was wanted at home on import- 
 ant business ; his subsequent enveiglement in 
 the plan being safely left to the power of Jen- 
 ny's eloquence, and the promise of the ** ca- 
 bin ye wudn't know from the palace." 
 
 Baldie was instantly dispatched across the 
 heath to put Bryan in the direction of Rath- 
 na-Carraig ; and Angus and the active host- 
 ess went to the beach to examine the capa- 
 bilities of the curragh for braving the swells of 
 the Atlantic, and to repair the *' stave'Vit 
 had suffered on the Partan-rock. The storm 
 had subsided, and Bryan could now see the 
 bleak heath of Hossnock extending for mile,s 
 along the shore, diversified with rising grounds,
 
 3AINT PATRICK. 223 
 
 and watered at intervals by rivulets, that the 
 dusk of the morning and the thick rain and 
 snow had formerly hindered him from per- 
 ceiving. 
 
 As they had climbed to the summit of an 
 elevated ridge which ran across the heath, 
 they came in sight of a hill that w'as insulated 
 from the adjacent heights, and stood among 
 them like a sovereign surrounded by his cour- 
 tiers, — not that it was greatly loftier than the 
 others around it, but it stood apart, and was 
 the most conspicuous object in' the view. 
 *' Ye might tak it" Angus had said, " for 
 Ailsa craig, and the sea lav't frae 'bout it." 
 The foot of the hill was encompassed with a 
 wood which extended into the surrounding 
 plain, and gave the whole a fine picturesque 
 air, that was much enhanced by contrast with 
 the bare w^oodless heath of Rossnock, which 
 they had just quitted. 
 
 " Troth," remarked Bryan to his little 
 guide, " if that same isn't as purtty a making
 
 2^4 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 of a hill as I could wish to clap an eye on, 
 that's if it wudn't be O'Neil that owes it." 
 
 ** Yon's the vera bit," replied Baldie, 
 '* yon's Rath-na-Carraig." 
 
 *' A strong position," thought Bryan, " and 
 well chosen j it wud be cruel difficult to storm 
 it." 
 
 Here he dismissed the boy and hastened 
 down the slope of the ridge, — crossed the in- 
 tervening valley, — entered the wood, and as- 
 cended the steep rising of Rath-na-Carraig, 
 The rebels had chosen a scatiou truly im- 
 pregnable to the rude warfare of those days. 
 There was no height which commanded their 
 entrenchments, and the wood which surround- 
 ed them below, afforded the best means of de- 
 stroying an enemy who should enter it, by 
 placing archers behind the trees where they 
 were to pass. Bryan found also that there 
 was only a single approach to the entrench- 
 ment J for on^ side of the hill was a rug- 
 ged precipice, and the other parts, which 
 were apparently more accessible, were thickly
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 225 
 
 covered with brambles and other impenetrable 
 brushwood. 
 
 The fortification itself, consisted of a double 
 wall composed of earth and stones, and the 
 exterior one surmounted by a parapet, intend- 
 ed as a defence, from behind which, they 
 might in safety hurl their weapons upon the 
 assailants who should dare to ascend the hill. 
 The entrance (and there was only (wie) was 
 flanked by four low towers, constructed with 
 the same materials as the walls, and garrison- 
 ed with chosen archers. The soldiers were 
 cantoned within in huts, built with stakes and 
 covered with heath, which rendered them 
 warm and snug, although their situation, on 
 the unsheltered hill, exposed them to every 
 storm that blew. A considerable number oi 
 the band had effected a lodgement in a part 
 of the rock, which had been shattered in some 
 of the grand convulsions of nature, and was 
 hence easily scooped out into a large cavity, 
 which, although it did not run far into the 
 rock, was, by means of, an embankment of 
 k2
 
 ^26 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 earth raised around it, rendered a more du- 
 rable residence than the stake huts in the 
 more exposed parts of the rath. It was here 
 O'Neil himself had chosen his station, a 
 space being walled off at one of the corners 
 for his accommodation. It was in froht of 
 this that all general councils and musters 
 were held ; a large sphinx-like stone being 
 pitched in the centre of a circle for the seat 
 of the chief. 
 
 As Bryan approached the watch-towers, at 
 the entrance he began to tune his harp and to 
 chaunt a war-song known to be popular among 
 the O'Neils. The sentinels immediately ap- 
 peared with their quivers at their backs and their 
 long bows ready bent, pacing sometimes to the 
 cadence which floated from the harp, and some- 
 times looking gruffly from the embrasures of 
 the parapet at the strange musician. The mar- 
 tial strains indeed seemed to find a responsive 
 echo in eveiy breast, and softened their hard 
 features into something resembling pleasure. 
 Biyan was gladly admitted within the gates,
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 227 
 
 and, after being hospitably entertained, gave 
 ample proof of his skill in exciting the pas- 
 sions, by recalling the heroic deeds of Niall 
 of the Nine Hostages and other distinguished 
 heroes, striking at the same time the wild airs 
 which accorded well with the martial senti- 
 ments of his verses. Bryan, however, had 
 no ambition of becoming the Tyrtaeus of the 
 rebels, and only exerted his powers to cover 
 his design ; and, under pretext of going to as- 
 sist at the approaching festival, he departed 
 next day towards the Druid's grove, having 
 contrived to procure as much intelligence 
 from his entertainers as might prevent him 
 from committing himself. Above all, he was 
 fortunate in being intrusted by 0*Neil w^ith a 
 dispatch to Brassail, harpers being then em- 
 ployed in such services. 
 
 Bryan easily obtained admission to the 
 Arch-Druid, delivered his dispatch, and got 
 himself enrolled among the musicians who 
 had assembled to be present at the Samh*in. 
 Brassail was now become anxious about his
 
 228 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 daughter, of whom he had got no account, 
 except a wild story of her having been carried 
 away through the woods of Clogharnbrec by 
 a demon who had tumbled down whole rocks 
 upon three hardy adventurers in attempting 
 to rescue her. This story Brassail did not 
 believe, and he was inconsolable for her loss, 
 particularly on this splendid occasion, when 
 he had intended to solemnize a long purposed 
 union between her and the rebel chief, in or- 
 der to bind their interest more firmly to- 
 gether. Bryan, among other things, was 
 closely questioned if he had heard any thing 
 of the lost Ethne, but he was too wise to dis- 
 close what he knew, and artfully eluded all 
 their inquiries. 
 
 Bryan's singular air and expressive face 
 soon procured him attention from his brother 
 harpers ; but, finding they were as ignorant 
 as himself of what he wanted to learn, he 
 turned himself to the inferior priests of Bras- 
 sail's establishment, with one of whom he 
 contrived to become gracious, and obtained
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 2^9 
 
 the secret, with the additional intelligence 
 that this very priest was to have the guarding 
 of Saint Patrick's prison on the night of the 
 festival. The hopes of the daring adventurer 
 began from this moment to wear a brighter 
 air of probability. The greatest difficulties 
 were now removed. There was still a for- 
 midable one to vanquish. It would be next 
 to impossible to elude the vigilance of such 
 determined religionists, and it would be cer- 
 tain and immediate death to be detected. 
 Even if they were clear of the mysterious 
 grove, there would be no method of passiilg 
 to the boat on such a night, when every eye 
 would be unclosed, and every heath blazing 
 with cairn-fires. But the dauntless Bryan 
 trampled on every tiling that wore the face of 
 difficulty ; and, borne out by the recollection 
 of his wrongs, he laughed at danger, when its 
 vanquishment would so annoy his enemies. 
 More than once he was on the point of dis- 
 closing his design to his friend the priest, 
 with a view to gain his aid by the promise of
 
 £30 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 a large reward ; but he was afraid that the 
 superstitious Druid would be less easily entrap- 
 ped than mine hostess of the sheeling, and 
 he checked the rising proposal. He was not 
 without dread, also, lest it should be disco- 
 vered that he had been excommunicated in 
 Connaught ; for, notwithstanding his careful 
 disguise, some prying musician might detect 
 him, and ruin the whole plot. One thing 
 was fortunate,- — that the musicians attached 
 to the Druidical party seldom strolled into 
 the districts which were either Christianized 
 or adhered to the more ancient religion of the 
 country, derived through countless genera- 
 tions from the Patriarchs, and which, even in 
 the noon of Druidism, had always maintained 
 its ground. To this primitive faith our friend 
 Camderoch was a firm adherent.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Oh, in this deep and lonely grove, 
 
 So lonely in its solitude, 
 Can thoughts of wo the soul o'erflow 
 
 Or aught on dreams of peace intrude r 
 
 O can the gentle stir of leaves, 
 
 The sleepy note as of a dream, 
 That winds below the green-Avood bough, 
 
 The murmur of the lovely stream. — 
 Can they of grief and sorrow tell r 
 
 They can — and scenes of blood recall. 
 
 Fin LAY. 
 
 The grand festival of the Samh'in was be- 
 gun at sunset, with the blowing of bugles, 
 aud the sound of music. Small bands of 
 armed men were everywhere seen skirring 
 through the country, headed by a Druid 
 priest, carrying a torch, to see that all the 
 fires were completely extinguished in the
 
 232 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 houses, and to collect all the individuals of 
 their district to the height where the cairn- 
 fire was to be lighted by the priest, with his 
 sacred torch, brought from the sanctified fire 
 of the Arch-Di-uid. From the caim-fires all 
 who were worthy bore home a flaming brand 
 to rekindle their extinguished hearths. Those, 
 again, who were found guilty of crimes de- 
 serving of excommunication, were refused this 
 symbol of purity ; and not only so, but all 
 were prohibited, under a similar penalty, from 
 furnishing them with tire, or other necessary 
 assistance, till they expiated their guilt by 
 rendering the prescribed mulcts. Such, we 
 have seen, was the case with the affectionate 
 Evelyn, and produced the sad catastrophe, 
 which was now goading on her grieving hus- 
 band to assist in sapping the foundation of 
 the superstition of which this formed a pro- 
 minent feature. 
 
 The Samh'in was, in many of its forms, a 
 truly primitive festival. No blood was shed 
 in sacrifice, and the ceremonies were not per-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 233 
 
 formed in the gloomy mystery of the groves j 
 but fruits were brought as an offering to the 
 tutelar deity of the harvest, and laid on fires, 
 kindled on the highest places m the vicinity, 
 under the open air. It was also character- 
 ized by all the gaiety, without the profligacy, 
 ofa modern Venetian Carnival ; and the re- 
 vels of dancing, gamboling, knd feasting, were 
 continued for several successive nights, with 
 renewed ardour, around their blazing fires and 
 smoking viands. Whoever, indeed, has wit- 
 nessed the revelry of a Mahometan Bairara 
 feast, can be at no loss to conceive the unfet- 
 tered licence and the splendid illuminations 
 of the Druid festival of the Samh'in, making 
 allowance for the difference between the green 
 isle of the west and balmy softness of eastern 
 landscapes. 
 
 It was on this ni«xht that the adventurous 
 Bryan had determined to release the illus- 
 trious Apostle from thraldom, or perish in 
 the attempt, fondly anticipating the deep stab 
 of revenge he should give to his enemies, by
 
 25'h SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 accomplishing his scheme. The procession 
 was ah'eady drawn up in the dark avenue, to 
 proceed to the cairn on an adjacent eminence, 
 and the red light of the numerous torches 
 glared along the trunks of the marshalled 
 oaks. On each side of the Arch-Druid were 
 drawn up the priests, according to their seve- 
 ral orders of precedence, with their proper 
 insignia, and peculiar habits ; and, from their 
 slow and measured movements, and the gloom 
 of the lengthened avenues through which they 
 passed, the whole spectacle was very impos- 
 ing ; and the solemnity was heightened by 
 the musicians, who were stationed at the se- 
 veral windings of the avenues, to salute the 
 procession, as it passed, with their solemn 
 airs. 
 
 Bryan had taken previous care to ply his 
 acquaintance, the priest appointed to guard 
 Saint Patrick, out of a leathern bottle of mead, 
 into which he had infused such herbs as would 
 produce an opportune deficiency in his powers 
 of watching, till watching would be no longer
 
 SAINT PATRICK. S35 
 
 necessary. In his capacity of musician, he 
 had stationed himself at the first winding of 
 the passage through the grove, where it left 
 the long avenue leading from the gallery al- 
 ready described. As soon as he had saluted 
 the procession with one of his finest airs, and 
 seen the last torch disappear in the distance, 
 instead of following the train as he was ap- 
 pointed to do, he tossed his harp into an ob- 
 scure thicket, and rushed along the long ave- 
 nue, and through the deep gloom of the gal- 
 lery, till he saw the glimmer of the watch's 
 taper streamhig feebly through the darkness. 
 With all his courage, and his thirst for re- 
 venge, he shuddered involuntarily as he cau- 
 tiously paced on tiptoe through the mysterious 
 aisles, where no profane foot had perhaps 
 ever trod before ; and he looked anxiously 
 round him, lest some lingering priest had re- 
 mained there, besides his friend, whom he 
 hoped was by this time *' hushed in grim re- 
 pose,*' • — or lest he should inadvertently 
 
 Grii
 
 236 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 Stumble upon some part of the infernal ma- 
 chinery with which he knew the Druids ter- 
 rified their votaries. All his fears vanished 
 when he thought of his dying Evelyn and her 
 merciless persecutors. 
 
 He had no time, indeed, to lose in idly in- 
 dulging his hopes and fetors. He must now 
 proceed, or surrender himself to the most 
 cruel death which could be devised. He was 
 already within view of the watch, and had the 
 satisfaction to see him leaning against one of 
 the tv$m in irraprassible drowsiness. The ad- 
 venturer slid along behind some of the ad- 
 joining bushes, till he got sufficiently near the 
 priest to ascertain that he was thoroughly 
 asleep. He was not an instant in springing 
 to the entrance of the prison, which lay be- 
 tween two large oaks, and descended appa- 
 rently under ground. "^ He seized the taper 
 which glimmered beside the slumbering priest. 
 
 * See Trans, of the Ant. Soc. of Scot. Vol. IF, 
 Part I.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 237 
 
 and hurried down a narrow flight of turf 
 steps that led to a vault. 
 
 Every thing w^as still around him, and the 
 damp air, which played around his taper in a 
 thin blue haze, and hung heavy on his breath- 
 ing, gave it more the air of a charnel-house 
 than of a prison. The vault consisted of one 
 large apartment, in one of whose corners he 
 perceived the holy father kneeling on a heap 
 of withered leaves thrown together in the 
 form of a couch. The pious saint was so ab- 
 sorbed in profound devotion, that he did not 
 perceive the approach of his daring deliverer, 
 and Bryan could hear indistinctly some of the 
 words he was uttering in a low deep tone, as 
 if it had been the holy and unfeigned breath- 
 ings of a departing soul. - 
 
 " O God of Spirits V* he could hear him 
 sigh, " descend in power, and protect this 
 lovely land from the fangs of these harpies, 
 who riot unsatiated in the fruits of their 
 plunder, wrenched from the blinded people 
 by the terrors of superstition and the machi-
 
 2o8 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 nations of hypocrisy. Infuse into thy ser- 
 vant's mind strength to sustain, without shrink- 
 ing, the trials of persecution, and to receive, 
 with humbleness of heart, the holy crown of 
 martyrdom, witliout a sigh after the world's 
 pleasures, but with holy joy at being account- 
 ed worthy to suffer for the truth." — 
 
 Bryan was averse to interrupt the pure de- 
 votions of the saint ; but their time w^as pre- 
 cious ; all depended on dispatch. He turned 
 the light of the taper full on his face, which 
 expressed, in the settled composure of the 
 eye, and the repose of every feature, the un- 
 feigned resignation to heaven which reigned 
 within. 
 
 " Father !" said Bryan, " you must follow 
 me ;" and he began to undo the fetters which 
 bound him. The saint did not dream, how- 
 ever, of deliverance, but thought the hour 
 was come in which he should be numbered 
 with the holy martyrs ; and Bryan, who had 
 learned from the priest his unshaken resolu- 
 tion to die, was afraid to undeceive him, lest
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 289 
 
 he might not consent to escape. Patrick re- 
 mained passive, and continued his devotions 
 inaudibly, while Bryan led him across the 
 vaulted apartment. The sentinel had by this 
 time overcome the influence of the soporific, 
 which had been unavoidably administered too 
 early ; and, missing his taper, was searching 
 about in great uneasiness, and was in the very 
 act of descending the stairs at the moment 
 they reached the first step at the bottom, 
 Bryan instantly dropt the taper, extinguished 
 it with his foot, and drew back his passive fol- 
 lower into a recess beside the stairs, which he 
 had discovered as he descended. 
 
 The drowsy priest stumbled down the 
 stairs, and groped his way to the couch to 
 ascertain the safety of his prisoner, for whom 
 his head was answerable should he be missing. 
 Bi-yan sprung forward, and soon overpowered 
 the astonished priest, his thoughts still con- 
 fused with his troubled slumbers, and imagin- 
 ing the strong grasp that clenched round his 
 arms, to be that of some dreadful demon which
 
 ^40 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 Patrick had conjured up to destroy him. His 
 fear prevented him from speaking, except in 
 muttering the jargon of a charm, which, un- 
 fortunately for him, had no power to prevent 
 Bryan from binding him securely in the 
 fetters that had just been untenanted, and 
 leaving him to the mercy of his merciless 
 brethren when they should return from the 
 festival. 
 
 When he had thus successfully secured his 
 friend the priest, the daring Bryan hastened 
 back to the Apostle, and, without uttering a 
 word, led him up the steps ; but, when he got 
 under the dark canopy of the oaks, "unperce- 
 able by anie powere of starre," ^ he found it 
 no easy task to urge his way^with all the speed 
 which necessity now required. It was fortu- 
 nate that they did not need to strike from the 
 road into the pathless entanglement of the 
 woods, otherwise they must inevitably have fail- 
 ed in making good their escape. For thisthere 
 
 ♦ Faery Queene.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 241 
 
 was no need, as all the grove was completely 
 vacated on account of the festival. With 
 much groping and difficulty, they at last 
 cleared the grove undiscovered, and came in- 
 to the open country, which extended to the 
 bluff craggy shore, best know^n in these days 
 by the name of the Giant's Causeway, but 
 then called Binguthar. 
 
 Bryan now following the instructions he 
 had got at the sheeling, deviated from the 
 path to avoid discovery, should they by any 
 chance be pursued. When he had got into 
 the open heath, he ventured to tell Patrick 
 their design, and the success which had so far 
 attended its execution ; for the holy man had 
 hitherto supposed that he was dragged s% 
 hurriedly along to be murdered, or mar- 
 tyred by his enemies. He had, indeed, 
 thought it singular that only one man should 
 be appointed to conduct him, and that too i^ 
 darkness ; but Bryan had answered all his 
 brief questions with ** come along, we have no 
 time for words," and he calmly resigned 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 242 SAINT PATKICK. 
 
 himself to his fate, and looked upon the 
 things of-time as we often look back on the 
 days of childhood, which we know oan never 
 again beam around us, with their summer ra- 
 diance and their flowery adornments. 
 
 His only thoughts of earth hung fondly 
 over the country of his adoption. Ireland 
 was the beginning and the end of all his mus- 
 ings. He was about to leave her to be the prey 
 of intestine divisions, without any power, single 
 or united, that could lull the uproar. Could 
 he have been spared for a few years, he hoped 
 that he could have conciliated the discordant 
 factions, and established the Catholic faith on 
 an unshaken basis ; but, since he had fallen 
 •ito the power of his foes, his duty was to re- 
 sign his life without a murmur ; and Heaven, 
 he trusted, would raise up some zealous spirit, 
 more worthy than himself, to complete the 
 great work he had so prosperously begun. 
 
 These thoughts were floating in his mind, 
 when Bryan made his disclosure. The effect 
 was very different from what he had antici-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. S'iS 
 
 pated. St Patrick, instead of refusing to ac- 
 company him further, exulted at his deliver- 
 ance, referring it to the interference of Heaven, 
 and his active mind darted away to the theme 
 which seemed perpetually to -encircle it amidst 
 every revolution of his thoughts, — the accom- 
 plishment of his mission. Even the glory of 
 martyrdom, bright as the crown had shone in 
 his fancy, was dim and selfish, compared with 
 the splendid achievement of mustering a whole 
 nation of brave and independent people under 
 the banners of the cross. His zeal was the 
 more violently kindled, that they were now 
 within view of the unhallowed fires which 
 blazed on every eminence, as far as the eye 
 could wander, and the shouts of the Samh'in 
 worshippers swelled and sank again as the 
 breeze flitted by.
 
 244 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Danger, whose limbs of giant mould 
 What mortal eye can fix'd behold ; 
 Who stalks his round, an hideous form, 
 Howling amidst the midnight storm, 
 Or throws him on the ridgy steep 
 Of some loose hanging rock to sleep. 
 
 Collins. 
 
 Sht/lock, You knew, none so well, none so well as 
 you, of my daughter's flight. 
 
 Merch, of Venice. 
 
 What skiflPis that off Bengore, which tacks 
 in the face of the west wind, and skims so 
 lightly on the sea swell ? Idle and giddy 
 younkers, perhaps, pursuing the sun in the 
 bright track he has just quitted, and only left 
 day-light enough to show that the sail ijs 
 brown and its pendant white. There is
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 245 
 
 something very attractive in the sailing of a 
 pretty boat. It invariably tixes the attention 
 of the vacant shore spectator. He bends his 
 body in cadence with its rocking, and the 
 bulging of its sails ; his heart bounds and un- 
 dulates along with it over the ridge of every 
 wave ; and along with it he swims in fancy 
 on the surface of the blue water, and seems 
 unburdened of the sluggish and weighty body 
 which chains him to the earth. 
 
 The skiff in question was anxiously watch- 
 ed by Grougar, on whom the eloquence of 
 Jenny had prevailed to risk his little all in 
 the enterprise of liberating their distinguish- 
 ed countryman. He had been obliged, how- 
 ever, in order to avoid suspicion, to return to 
 Rath-na-Carraig, from which he had just con- 
 trived to steal away during the bustle of pre- 
 paring for the festival, and was now stalk- 
 ing along the summits of the cliffs between 
 Pleaskin and Bengore, to keep a look-out for 
 his curragh, when the skiff appeared. He 
 was too interested in its fate to ** sit hijn
 
 M6 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 down on Neptune's yellow sands/' and mimic 
 its sailing " with pretty and with swimming 
 gate /' * for he doubted not that the skifF 
 which was beating round Bengore was the 
 very object of his solicitude, freighted with all 
 he held dear — his family, and his scanty store 
 of moveables. But these, dear as they were, 
 did not hold such selfish dominion over his 
 mind, as to banish his lively interest in the 
 escape of the Apostle, of which he had caught 
 the infection at the sheeling, and he anxious- 
 ly watched every movement of the boat, as it 
 stretched out into the sea, or run in upon the 
 shore, to catch the impulse of the adverse 
 wind. 
 
 Having assured himself of the identity of 
 his boat, by means of the accurate observa- 
 tions of hope and fear, and their constant ac- 
 complice imagination, to whose suggestions the 
 increasing dusk of twilight gave the most ample 
 range, — Grougar lost no time in hastening to 
 
 * Midsummer Night's Dream,
 
 SAINT PATRICK. S47 
 
 the appointed landing-place, not without ap- 
 prehensions for the safety of the little vessel 
 from the heaving of the swell, the adverse 
 wind, and the ruggedness of the shore. For 
 what could the frail construction of such a co- 
 racle oppose to those waves, that in this very 
 place have rent asunder the mountains, and 
 exposed to day the pillars of adamant on which 
 they rest their broad foundations ? Their 
 ruin is, indeed, majestic. The pine forest, 
 that rises so loftily on the shores of Norway, 
 or the interminable colonnades of a Gothic ca- 
 thedral, are not more regular, and want more 
 than half the grandeur of the black columns 
 of Pleaskin, whose projection into the sea greets 
 the skiff at every winding of the coast. Their 
 fragments, also, torn from their fixtures by 
 nature's instruments of destruction, lie in 
 scattered confusion on the beach, and pave the 
 channel of the ocean farther and deeper than 
 the eye can trace, bespotting every bay and 
 sweep of the coast with splintered rocks, 
 pointing from the bosom of the waves. You
 
 24^8 SAINT P4TRICK. 
 
 might suppose the whole shore, for miles, to be 
 the ruins of a vast temple, which the divinities 
 of the sea had themselves reared, to astonish and 
 confound the feeble race of man, and to show 
 that the grandeur of his cathedrals and his 
 palaces is like the insignificance of an ant- 
 hill, when compared with the awful sublimity 
 of nature. Or rather, you may imagine 
 this magnificent range of columns to be an 
 impr^nable bulwark, built by Providence, to 
 oppose the merciless ravages of the surge, 
 which beats so furiously and so incessantly on 
 these romantic shores. To this the boasted 
 walls of the Romans and of the Chinese are 
 feeble as a sheep-fence. Even the ceaseless 
 havoc of destruction, by the foresight of na- 
 ture, only adds strength to the mound, by 
 piling up in the face of the waves the shiver- 
 ed rocks and the disjointed columns which 
 the storms and frosts of winter hurl do^vn 
 from the precipices. 
 
 Listen to the alternate dashing of the 
 breakers, even to-night, when the ^ind has
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 249 
 
 now died away, and the clear frosty twinkle of 
 the stars hushes all besides into majestic si- 
 lence, and everywhere but here the ocean 
 stretches its extended plain, as calm and as 
 dark as the sky that rests on its boundary. 
 To the boatmen, this dashing of the swell in 
 its tumultuous workings in the caverns, and 
 its conflict around the sunken rocks, must 
 sound hollow and ominous. You can no 
 longer hear the bumping of the oars, which 
 lately echoed along the high heath of Ross- 
 nock a token of their progress, for it is 
 drowned in the noisy turmoil of the surf. 
 
 Grougar found it no easy task to make 
 good his way undiscovered, as he had to pass 
 through the fields where the hum of prepa- 
 ration resounded in every quarter, and he 
 could advantageously have dispensed with the 
 superfluous altitude of stature which made 
 him so easily recognized. No one of our 
 daring plotters, indeed, besides himself, could 
 have escaped detection here, and to have par- 
 ried the resentment of the worshippers by ex« 
 
 T 9.
 
 250 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 cuse, would have been equally efficacious a? 
 to repress with words the fury of the east 
 wind. His perfect knowledge of his geo- 
 graphy, however, brought him in safety to 
 the appointed recess of the beach, before ei- 
 ther the Apostle had descended the cliffs, or 
 the curragh had hove in sight at Pleaskin 
 Point. 
 
 Bryan was, vmfortunately, a less knowing 
 geographer here than Grougar ; and, although 
 he had cunningly avoided the fires which 
 blazed on every eminence, and the parties of 
 revellers who repeatedly crossed their path, 
 he found his ingenuity baffled to apply his 
 instructions to the discovery of the path down 
 the cliffs. These instructions had a strong 
 likeness to a laboured poetical description, 
 being far too multifarious to leave any marked 
 picture in the memory, and the increasing 
 darkness only increased the difficulty. 
 
 The Apostle was not idle in the search. 
 He examined every portion of the edge of 
 the precipice, where the shelving of the stone,
 
 SAINT t>ATRICK. ^51 
 
 or the roughness of its surface, might indicate 
 this perilous path. But their search proved 
 vain. Patrick, indeed, began to suspect, that 
 they had not come upon the proper point, 
 and he climbed up the peak of a rock to ex- 
 amine their bearing ; but, on reaching the 
 summit, all his thoughts and his passions, and 
 even his very existence, seemed to have fkd 
 and melted in the sublimity which surround- 
 ed him. He remained motionless, and, ap- 
 parently, as unanimated as the rock he stood 
 on. The spirits of the earth, the air, and the 
 sea, seemed to have c<^mbined their power to 
 strike the holy father with dumb astonish- 
 ment and awe ; and who could stand on that 
 pinnacle and not forget that he was a son of 
 earth, a little viewless point in the circle of 
 the universe ? * Eastward a group of hills and 
 rocks rested on the moor, rising over one 
 another, and appearing, in the darkness, like 
 
 * ein iropFen 
 
 In der schopfungen meer. 
 
 KhovsTocKy-Messias, v.
 
 252 SAINT PATRICE. 
 
 the low rolling masses of a rain-cloud ; and, 
 at intervals, the distant glimmering of a cairn 
 fire, marked the elevation of summits that 
 mingled in dimness with the horizon. To 
 the west the coast was precipitous and wild, 
 and everywhere scooped out into crescents, 
 whose horns, in pillared magnificence, jutted 
 far into the ocean. The ocean itself lay 
 spread before him, stretching to the Pole in 
 one extended sheet of darkness, except where 
 the watery reflection of a star undulated its 
 broken light among the furrows of the waves. 
 The breakers sounded so distant ; the plain 
 of the sea looked so far below him ; and the 
 stars appeared to shine so near and bright, 
 that he seemed dissevered from the earth and 
 elevated in mid-air. The skiff he could not 
 descry in the darkness, as it was a mere speck 
 in the waste that surrounded it, and could 
 only be distinguished by its motion, from the 
 points of the rocks scattered along the sur- 
 face of the water ; the wrecks of the preci- 
 pices, also, which lay strewed on the beach.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. S53 
 
 looked no bigger than the small pebbles of a 
 brook. 
 
 Wlien Saint Patrick recovered from that 
 vacation of thought into which his pinnacled 
 elevation amidst such stupendous objects had 
 thrown him, he thought he felt his very soul 
 shrinking within him, as if the Almighty 
 himself had unveiled his presence, and difflis- 
 ed his immensity through the scene. This 
 feeling of awe gradually mingled itself with 
 the master-passion which prompted every ac- 
 tion of his life ; the workings of his mind be- 
 came almost too violent to bear, and burst 
 forth in the wildest ejaculations. But even 
 in such fits of frantic vehemence, which were 
 not unusual with him, he never wholly broke 
 loose from the bonds of reason. He was one 
 of those daring spirits that can sport secure 
 on the very brink of madness, and even make 
 rapid and transitory flights into the regions 
 of frenzy without being chained by her spells. 
 To these dangerous flights he had been ac- 
 customed from infancy, and they had lent 
 such energy and impressive boldness to his
 
 254 SAINT PATRICK, 
 
 Speech, and such fearless dignity to his coun- 
 tenance, that he never failed to overawe every 
 human being who came into his presence. 
 The awe inspired by this scene of grandeur, 
 and the coupling the idea of the immediate 
 presence of God with the idolatries with 
 which his holiness was insulted by the wor- 
 shippers at the cairn fires, had an effect upon 
 the Apostle that even his powerful mind 
 could scarcely bear ; but doffing, w4th gigan- 
 tic vigour, the shackles which frenzy was bind- 
 ing around him, he reined his rising emotions 
 and began to continue his search. 
 
 He descended the opposite side of the peak 
 to that he had climbed, and came directly to 
 the brink of a crescent, which agreed to the 
 description of that they so anxiously had look- 
 ed for ; but he was now left to complete his 
 discovery alone, as Bryan had disappeared 
 and was nowhere to be found. This was a 
 new and unlooked for disaster. What could 
 have become of him ? Had he fallen into the 
 hands of the Samh'in revellers, whose fires 
 were blazing on the headlands around them ?
 
 SAIXT PATRICK. 255 
 
 or could he have dropt, in his eagerness of 
 search, over these awful cliflPs ? Perhaps he 
 had discovered the path and descended ; but, 
 if so, why did he not apprize his companion ? 
 Every suggestion which rose in the mind of 
 the Apostle was full of diflficulty, and the de- 
 sign which had so far been prosperous, was, 
 by this unfortunate event, darkly overcloud- 
 ed. Even if he had descended the path, it 
 was not clear that he would thence be safe ; 
 for, in the most favourable circumstances, it 
 was most dangerous, * but, in the present in- 
 stance, descent seemed impossible. The dark- 
 ness rendered it truly terrific ; for the ob- 
 scure light of the fires on the neighbouring 
 headlands fell only on the projections of the 
 rocks, and the path lay in the bending of a 
 
 * The guide who usually accompanies travellers from 
 Bushmills says, he would not go down this path " for the 
 county Antrim ;" yet it is daily used by some poor 
 kelp-makers to bring up their manufacture from the 
 beach. I particularly remarked an old woman among 
 these, squalid with age and poverty.
 
 ^6 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 precipitous crescent. Patrick could see no- 
 thing but the brink of this crescent by the 
 glimmering of the fires ; all below was a pro- 
 found abyss of darkness, rendered more dread- 
 ful by the alternate dashing of the breakers, 
 which was sullenly and distantly re-echoed 
 from the rocks of the beach. On examina- 
 tion, also, he found the commencement of the 
 path to be partially covered with ice, and it 
 was likely this would increase with the de- 
 scent. One circumstance was favourable : 
 in many parts of the path, steps were formed 
 by the abutments of columns which the ele- 
 ments had spared, and offered the most se- 
 cure footing, but the ice rendered even these 
 treacherous and unsafe. 
 
 The existence of these, however, Patrick 
 had to take on the trust of the descriptions 
 which Bryan had collected ; fcft though he 
 cautiously crept forward on his knees to the 
 edge of tlie rock, and stretched his neck over 
 it, to endeavour to trace the narrow formless 
 steps, the darkness prevented him from sea-
 
 SAINT PATRICK. ■ §5? 
 
 ing farther than a few paces. While he thus 
 lay hesitating what to do, anxious to discover 
 Bryan, and equally anxious to tiy the dizzy 
 path, to escape from the cairn worshippers, he 
 heard the sound of voices immediately behind 
 him, which he recognized to be those of some 
 of the inferior priests he had seen at the grove, 
 and he lay in breathless agitation lest they 
 should discover him. He had shewn all the 
 resigned fortitude of a martyr, while in their 
 power ; but he now looked upon his life as 
 precious in the eye of Heaven for the ac- 
 complishing of his mission, and would have 
 deemed it criminal not to use ^very means 
 for its preservation. He listened to the voices, 
 but durst not raise his head, which was still 
 leaning half over the precipice, lest the mo- 
 tion should betray him. He thought they were 
 approaching ; but fear is quick of hearing, and 
 might have deceived him. His only chance of 
 escape was down the path ; but they were too 
 near to make the attempt prudent, and he 
 had to trust to the darkness for being mis-
 
 258 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 taken. for a ridge of stunted heath, or for a 
 large stone, as he lay motionless on the turf, 
 and felt on his face the chill of the sea breeze, 
 as it swept up the cliffs below him. His ear 
 greedily drunk in every sound which pro- 
 ceeded from his darkling enemies ; and he 
 could hear one say, 
 
 ** Well, I'll not believe it : did it not come 
 from Rathlin, say you ? It must be some of 
 our people from Innisgael, * who were com- 
 ing to the Samh'in. Old Conal More of 
 Zona, perhaps, who, by the way, promised to 
 be here to night, if the sea should mingle 
 wdth the clouds." 
 
 ** Now mark," another voice replied, " how 
 conjecture gallops. Conal More is already 
 come, and it was one of his gillies who told 
 me. They saw the skiff come round from 
 Rossnock point, while they were tacking off 
 Rathlin, and could plainly see a lady at the 
 
 * Innisgael, the islands of the Celts, now called ihe 
 Hebrides or the Western Isles.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. Q59 
 
 stern ; but it doubled Bengore, and they lost 
 sight of it behind the heauland/' 
 
 ** And does Brassail persist that it was his 
 daughter, on such evidence ?" said the first 
 speaker. 
 
 Patrick could not distinguish the words of 
 the answer which followed, as the speakers 
 were retiring along the heath, and he was 
 soon left again to solitude. He doubted not 
 that the boat, of which, by fortunate accident, 
 he had thus got intelligence, would be Grou- 
 gar's curragh; which was probably below, 
 ready to convey him from danger, and, per- 
 haps, his deliverer Bryan might have already 
 reached it. He was thus ruminating on his 
 situation, when he fancied he heard a shriek 
 from the lower part of the cliffs, as of some 
 person in distress ; but might he not be de- 
 ceived by the clamour of sea fowls, alarmed in 
 their roosting crags at the shouts of the re- 
 vellers, and the blaze of the fires ? He was 
 convinced that it was no illusion, when it was 
 repeated in a louder and more distressing
 
 260 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 tone ; but it seemed at last to grow feeble, 
 and soon died away, and he could hear no- 
 thing but the dreary roar of the waves as they 
 beat on the rocks below. 
 
 To hazard his life by hurrying down the 
 dreadful path was no longer a matter of con- 
 sideration. The voice was plainly a female's, 
 and a female voice in distress pierced his very 
 soul. He plunged down the first stretch of 
 the path, reckless of his danger, and was in- 
 stantly lost in the darkness which was em- 
 bosomed in the bend of the precipice. Pa- 
 trick found, that his descent was much more 
 hazardous than even his conception had pic- 
 tured ; and the slipperiness of the ice formed 
 on the stones from the water which trickled 
 from their crevices, was not the least of the 
 difficulties. This he obviated by taking off 
 his sandals ; * but the loose rocks, which gave 
 way under his feet, and were heard so dis- 
 tantly, as they bounded from crag to crag in 
 
 * See Antiq. of Kilkenny in Collectan. de Reb. liib. 
 II. 458.
 
 SAINT PATRICK. 26l 
 
 the dark chasm below, betokened almost cer- 
 tain destruction ; for he might be instan- 
 taneously hurled along with some one of them, 
 and dashed to pieces at the bottom. He was 
 therefore obliged to tiT with his foot the firm- 
 ness of every point of the rock before he 
 trusted to its support. 
 
 As he was thus cautiously proceeding, a- 
 nother faint cry, which sunk into a low moan- 
 ing tone, rose from the rocks below, and threw 
 him so much off his guard, that he lost his 
 footing, and was precipitated down the steep. 
 " O God 1" he ejaculated, as he felt himself 
 dropping through the dark air of the abyss ; 
 but the words were scarcely pronounced when 
 he fell on a small platfonn which was formed 
 by the tops of a range of columns, and cover- 
 ed with grass. He was not injured by the 
 fall, farther than the shock which terror had 
 given to the pulse of his heart. ^Vhen he 
 recovered a little from this throb of perturba- 
 tion, he began to search again for the path, 
 but found his progi'ess completely stopt ; for 
 his perpendicular fall had thrown him out of
 
 g62 SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 the track of the path, and this little green 
 spot seemed every where bounded by smooth 
 steep rocks. He most anxiously examined 
 in eveiy direction, but could discover no way 
 of escape. At last, in the chinks formed be- 
 tween the columns beneath, he discovered 
 some stunted heath, by clinging to which, 
 and placing his feet in the cross rifts, he got 
 down a little w^ay, eagerly expecting at every 
 movement, that his hanging foot would strike 
 on one of the steps of the path ; but as he 
 went further, he could not find a root of 
 heath to hold by, and he was obliged to climb 
 back disappointed to the little platform. 
 
 His benevolent design of aiding distress 
 was thiis most bitterly frustrated by an ob- 
 stacle that baffled all his strength and inge- 
 nuity to surmount. His situation was most 
 distressing. He was almost within call of 
 the person who seemed to be perishing among 
 the waves, yet was restrained from exerting 
 his vigorous arm to assist her, which, to a 
 man of his uncontrollable feelings, bore 
 away all thoughts of his own danger. He
 
 SAINT PATRICK. g6J 
 
 l?eflected not that he himself was perhaps cut 
 off from all human aid, and might, on that 
 solitary and inaccessible spot, perish by hun^ 
 ger : he thought only of the wild cries of dis- 
 tress which still rung in his ear, and pierced 
 his heart ; and, when he saw that he could 
 not control the destiny vvHch bound him, 
 he felt, with overpoweri^^g emotion, the ut- 
 ter helplessness of -^lan when he lifts his 
 puny form ami^t the sublimities of nature, 
 or raises h'^ feeble arm to contend with the 
 decrees of omnipotence. 
 
 But the buoyancy of a strong mind is sel- 
 dom crushed even by the greatest misfor- 
 tunes ; for Hope, who delights to track the 
 footsteps of distress, is always near, chanting 
 her fairy song, and painting her goldei land- 
 scapes. The saint would have been uiwor- 
 thy of his high mission had his eye everbeen 
 blasted with the vacant look of despair, \hile 
 he felt the arm of Providence supporting all 
 his steps. He was cheered with the iea 
 that a stronger hand -than his might vvardoff
 
 ^64f SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 the perils of the sea, and save from the fury 
 of the waters ; and he threw himself on his 
 knees to supplicate that aid from above which 
 he himseif could not give to the distressed 
 female, whose low moaning he still heard re- 
 peated at intervals. 
 
 The tumult of emotions, which had agi- 
 tated his mind, no«: began to give place to 
 the confidence he reposed in heaven ; the 
 black and rugged crags a^«^ve and around 
 him faded from his eye, and tli^ loud mur- 
 mur of the waves beneath became fairit to his 
 ear- He dropt exhausted on the virgin grass, 
 and fell asleep on the summit of that preci- 
 pitous clifi* where, before, the foot of man had 
 never rested, and the sea- fowl, scared from the 
 more dstant crags by the glare of the light, 
 and hf the revelry above them, flapped into 
 the jiatform, stupid with the darkness, and 
 nestfed quietly beside the holy man. 
 
 END OF VOLUME FIRST. 
 
 *rinted by George Ramsay and Company, 
 Edinburgh, 18ia
 
 \^