] 812 . 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE chief object of this Poem is, to endeavour, 
 by the circulation of a romantic tradition, embellished 
 with the ornaments. of verse, to save from neglect 
 and contempt our national legends ; which, while they 
 afford interesting materials for antiquarian research, 
 are of “ great poetical account.” 
 
 My ambition would be gratified, were any exer- 
 tions of mine to rouse some of my countrymen to more 
 continued exertions than those, which have dis- 
 played, in a narrow compass, so much talent and pa- 
 triotic feeling. — Nationality is unfortunately not the 
 fashion in Ireland ; and we much require, what to 
 the Scotch was unnecessary, the genius of a poet 
 to animate our paralised affection for native re- 
 sources. — So far from possessing the enthusiastic 
 amor patrics of our neighbours, our coldness on 
 
4 
 
 the subject gave rise to the sarcasm, of Dr. Johnson, 
 that, “ the Irish are an honest people, they never 
 speak well of eacli other.” — The drscendanls of our 
 ancestors do not blush to stigmatise them with the 
 epithet of “ barbarous,” to represent them as having 
 been “ wild and ignorant savages,” at a period when, 
 by the testimony of the sarcastic Englishman, this 
 country was the luminary of the western world, 
 ^ whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived 
 the benefits of knowledge, and the blessings of reli- 
 gion — strange if they concealed from their country- 
 men that knoxdedgc and that religion which they so 
 liberally communicated to the roving savages of 
 Europe !f 
 
 * Tour to the Hebrides — Vallancey’s Collectanea passim. — Bede 
 quoted in Leland’s preliminary discourse to his History of Ireland, 
 page xxii. 
 
 + The following curious fact is proved beyond the possibility of 
 contradiction : Feargil, or Virgilius, an Irishman, was invited by 
 King Pepin to the Court of France in the eighth century, and, by 
 him, created bishop of Saltzburg — he was condemned to be burned 
 as a heretic by Pope Zachary for maintaining that the World is round, 
 and narrowly escaped — the bull is in existence. — Campbell's strictures 
 on the ecclessiastical history of Ireland, p. 140. — Virgilius was after-, 
 wards consoled for the prosecution, by a lull of canonization. 
 
5 
 
 Tlie chief proof of this grossness of intellect and 
 ignorance is taken from the stile in which the Gospel 
 was first preached in Ireland, a language of allusion 
 supposed to be unsuited to the simplicity of Christian 
 truth, and adapted to barbarian ears — but we must 
 extend this observation, if just, to all those nations 
 where the Gospel was promulgated in parables ; and 
 we should not too hastily condemn that mode of illus- 
 trating doctrine, which our Saviour especially prefer- 
 red.* 
 
 Several vestiges of antiquity in Ireland, particu- 
 larly hereditary customs, possess an emblematical cha- 
 racter, the evidence of eastern descent —but, like the 
 hierogljqihics of the Eg^qitians, the allusion of Irish 
 emblems is almost entirely lost, while their beaut}' is 
 distorted by the mist of inteiwening ignorance through 
 which w'e must view' them, remote as they are in the 
 distance of time. The language of metaphor to wdiicli 
 they gave rise continued, as in Asia, after the intro- 
 duction of Christianity; and I am convinced that 
 there is more of illustration, than of superstition, in 
 
 * Vide Porteus’ Lectures on this subject. “ Descending to meta- 
 ‘‘ phors, is plainly by way of accommodation to our w eakness and 
 condescension to our capacities.” — Tillotson’s Serm. p. 61. 
 
6 
 
 our legends, although defaced by modern barbarism, 
 whicli has also given origin to many which are des- 
 picably absurd.* 
 
 I confess that this ci)ithet of “ barbarous” began 
 to be appropriate to the political and moral state of 
 Ireland, as soon as, distracted by repeated Danisli 
 and British invasions, it commenced to degenerate. 
 
 The Normans had at all times established their 
 conquests by the desti uction of civilization ; they ex- 
 tended the interdict of the curfew to mental lights — 
 like the ink-fish, they overcame by dimming the 
 brightness of the waters. Such w^as the barbarous po- 
 licy of the 1st Edward in Wales j while in Ireland 
 
 ♦ We have seen, in the researches of General Vallancej^, (an 
 Englishman,) how the study of our customs, our language, and other 
 remains of ancient times, can tend to the illustration of more classical 
 fables, of eastern and Phoenecian obscurities. The Punic character of 
 Plautus has been interpreted, and his language discovered to be the 
 same as the Irish : and I have no doubt that our native tongue would 
 furnish a key to the hitherto illegible inscriptions upon the ruined 
 fragments of Persepolis. — Chardin (v. 7. p. 110.) asserts it to be the 
 opinion of learned critics, that they are in either the old Punic, 
 or Persian characters ; he proves them not to be the latter, but cannot, 
 because of his ignorance of the language, draw from his own know- 
 ledge the obvious conclusion, that they are the former. They seem 
 to be a fit subject for the consideration of the interpreter of Plautus. 
 
7 
 
 the British destroyed our legislation, and forbade us 
 the use of theirs.* 
 
 But a brighter sun has of late years risen above our 
 horizon, to dispel the mist that has so long hung over 
 our Island, to warm our national affections, to 
 brighten our prospects, to ripen our genius, ^fnd to 
 display our resources. We shall now find that re- 
 search will discover materials, not only to inflame 
 the fancy of the poet, but to gratify the curiosity, 
 and reward the labour of the antiquarian. 
 
 Glendaloch, the place of action of this Poem, and 
 better known by the name of the Seven Churches, 
 is the scite of an ancient city, of which the ruins of 
 sacred edifices alone remain. ’Tis situated in a 
 gloomy valley, in the deepest recesses of the Wicklow 
 mountains. The scenery is very sublime: a dark 
 lake, bounded on three sides by perpendicular rocks, 
 or immense mountains, and, on the fourth, by an 
 immense plain scattered with the vestiges of ancient 
 piety, and primoeval superstition, adapt the mind to 
 philosophical abstraction, and the fancy to poetical 
 
 « Leland, Vol. I. p. 82. 
 
8 
 
 enjoyment. — In such a place “ to abstract the mind 
 “ from all local emotion would be impossible, if it 
 “ were endeavoured, and would be foolish, if it were 
 “ possible. — Whatever makes the past, the distant, 
 “ or the future, predominate over the present, ad- 
 “ vances us in the dignity of thinking beings. — Far 
 “ from me and from my friends be such frigid phi- 
 “ losophy as may conduct us, indifferent and un- 
 “ moved, over any ground which has been dignified 
 “ by wisdom, bravery or virtue — that man is little to 
 “ be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force 
 upon the plains of Marathon, or whose piety 
 ‘‘ w'ould not grow wnrm among the ruins* of Iona.*' 
 
 N. B. The Notes which are necessary for the illustration of particular 
 passages are placed at the bottom of the pages, the rest at the end 
 of the Poem. 
 
 * Tour to the Hebrides. 
 
THE 
 
 LEGEND 
 
 OF 
 
 CATHJLEEN AND KEVIN. 
 
 I. 
 
 On a rock that was rough with many a storm 
 Which had plough’d its stubborn brow, 
 
 E’er since the flood, from its central bed, 
 
 Had rear’d on high its frowning head. 
 
 O’er th’ unfathom’d lake below 
 A lengthen’d shade of darkest gloom to thrown 
 Like twilight’s ray, appear’d a slender form : 
 
 ’Twas the nymph of Derribawn’s green hill, 
 
 Of golden (a) Avonmore’s bright rill. 
 
 (a) From the mine of gold, in which one of its branches takes 
 iU rise. 
 
 S 
 
10 
 
 II. 
 
 The earliest purple light of dawn 
 Had ting’d the star-ill umin’d sky, 
 
 Nor yet had Morning’s azure eye 
 Shone upon Glendaloch’s {b) dusk}' lawn ; 
 
 No glittering dew-drops yet were seen 
 On the gossamer bands of the flowery green : 
 
 But the faint setting lunar beam 
 
 Made Cathleen’s graces, in its pallid light, 
 
 Seem like th’ aerial phantom of the dreamy 
 Or that which, in the dead of night, 
 
 The phantasy of rustic fright. 
 
 Forms of the rock, or fleeting mist of morn, 
 
 Or dun stag shelter’d ’neath the haunted thorn, (c) 
 
 (A) Or, the “ Glen of the Lakes.” 
 
 (c) The Irish frequently attach a superstition to particular trees, 
 chiefly to solitary and picturesque thorns, the origin of which I have 
 never been enabled to trace. They call them “ monuments suppose 
 them to be haunted ; and imagine that the consequence of ploughing 
 near their sacred roots would be the destruction of some particular 
 family, whose destiny is involved in theirs. 
 
11 
 
 m. 
 
 But ah ! wliat could induce the timid maid 
 To leave her pillow ere the morning smil’d, 
 
 Alone to wander, through the silent shade, 
 
 O’er trackless heaths and rocks with rough furze wild ? 
 To expose, to blasting dews of night, 
 
 That frame as delicately slight 
 As early budding lilies of the vale, 
 
 \Vhich shrink beneath the vernal morning gale : 
 
 To tempt the force of savage hands, 
 
 More rude than prowling wolves,* or winter’s storm. 
 When awe, inspir’d by virtue’s sacred form. 
 
 No more their passions unrestrain’d commands* 
 
 IV. 
 
 It was the impulse soft to bliss, 
 
 Which gently moves each youthful heart. 
 
 To seek the truest happiness 
 
 That earthly blessings can impart. 
 
 ■» The neighbourhood of the Seven Churches abounded with wolves, 
 till about 100 years ago. 
 
12 
 
 The pow’r which all who live so sweetly prove, 
 That fills with songs of choral joy the grove ; 
 
 It was the Promethean glow j 
 
 It was the spark divine from Heav’n ; 
 The kindest gift it could bestow, 
 
 The last, best boon to mortals giv’n ; 
 
 It was the soul’s attraction — gentle love. 
 
 V. 
 
 The sainted isle did not contain 
 A youth of so devout a mind 
 As Kevin (1) of the Vale: 
 
 A heart more pure, more gently kind. 
 
 Breath’d not the fragrant mountain gale 
 Of Erin’s holiest glen. — 
 
 Yet he was stern, when summon’d to oppose 
 Domestic feud, or great Tuathal’s {d) foes : 
 
 {d) Or, “ Toole,” — the Toparchs of that district of the county of 
 Wicklow. 
 
13 
 
 Hence has romantic fable told, 
 
 How, like lernian wolf-dog {e) bold. 
 
 The noxious dragon he had slain. 
 
 Which from the lake infested long the plain : 
 His form was lordly, as the tow’r {/ J 
 
 Which overawed the woods from da}"s of old ; 
 And, blooming in youth’s graceful flow’r. 
 
 To him, admiring nymphs the name of “ Kevin,” (g) 
 (Or, “ beautiful,” in native speech,) had giv’n. 
 
 (e) Tradition relates, that the plain was once infested by a serpent 
 which inhabited the lakes ; from which they were called Loch-na- 
 piast, or the Lakes of the Serpent. It was destroyed by St. Kevin ; 
 and the whole story, which I consider to be allegorical, is represented 
 by an emblem, in bas-relief, upon the frieze of the eastern w indow of 
 the cathedral, of a dog devouring a serpent. 
 
 (/) One of the primoeval round towers of this kingdom. 
 
 (g) Such is the tradition. This name is a corruption of the Irish 
 
 word Caomh, (pronounced “ Keve,”) which signifies “ comely.” 
 
 I must here remark the want of candour in Dr. Ledwich ; he argues 
 against all the accounts of Saint Kevin, because “ Coemgene does not 
 intimate beauty, but diminutive size and, upon this, he lightly fonns 
 “ suspicions unfavourable to the existence of our saint.” But had he 
 looked into O’Brien’s Dictionary, he would have found the following 
 
 articles ; “ Caomh, gentle, mild, handsome;” and “ Caomh, little, 
 
 small,” immediately following each other. 
 
]4 
 
 VI. 
 
 But liuman grace, nor charm, could move 
 His cold and pious soul to love. — 
 
 Oh shame ! to bigot priestcraft shame ! 
 
 That, with such seeming piety, could frame 
 A law, denying hallow’d breasts to feel 
 Terrestrial love, combin’d with holy zeal ; 
 
 As if the source of love divine. 
 
 Of universal harmony. 
 
 When he ordain’d all hearts to join 
 In bands of mutual sympathy, 
 
 To man alone forbade to raise 
 The choral hymn of love, and jo}^, and praise 
 As if celestial ardour did not grow 
 More pure, more fervent, ft’om a mutual glow. 
 
 vin 
 
 Not so Cathleen — her heart, more true 
 To Nature’s laws, no such cold reasoning knew 5 
 
15 
 
 And while, with unfeign’d modesty. 
 
 She turn’d from many an ardent lover’s tale, 
 
 And heard not many a rustic’s sigh 
 
 Which throbb’d for her the loveliest of the vale : 
 
 She thought it innocent as sweet. 
 
 To love, with chasten’d warmth, the favourite of 
 Heav’n ; 
 
 Sure not on earth could purer feelings meet 
 
 Than those which she indulg’d for sainted Kevin ! 
 
 yiii. 
 
 Yet still, with wild remorse her conscience stung, 
 Surpriz’d, alarm’d — abash’d, she sought 
 The pious youth, whose hallow’d tongue 
 The truths of bless’d religion taught ^ 
 
 And, in confession, told each secret thought. 
 
 He gently bade her of the crime beware, 
 
 Nor to indulge th’ unholy wish again : 
 
 She strove, obedient, but she strove in vain. 
 
]G 
 
 With fervor and sincerity she prayed, 
 
 Yet still her wandering thought from Heav’n stray’d 
 
 And oft the self-accusing maid 
 
 Rose from the shrine, in deep despair, 
 
 To shed in solitude the silent tear. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Sure ’tis enough of agony 
 For timid virgin modesty, 
 
 To cherish love, altho’ unknown ; 
 
 But ah ! it is the worst of pain, 
 
 To breathe the purest wish, in vain ; 
 
 To feel the burning cheek to glow. 
 
 The bitter tears of penance flow 
 For fancied crimes which conscience does not own, 
 Alas ! the struggle, virtuous, tho’ faint. 
 
 Was not unnoticed by the youthful saint : 
 
 He often caught her stedfast eye, 
 
 And mark’d the timid blush. 
 
 The pallid rose’s sudden flush, 
 
ir 
 
 When bashfulness, with fear and shame, 
 Recalled Love’s glowing beam : 
 
 He often heard the painful sigh, 
 Which, secret and but half suppress’d, 
 Burst from her throbbing breast ; 
 
 His feeling heart could not restrain 
 Pity’s responsive tear ; 
 
 And Sympathy would sigh again. 
 
 The sigh of pain to hear. 
 
 X, 
 
 Woe to the man so cold to love. 
 
 Whom tears of beauty cannot move ; 
 
 Who sees, untouch’d, the fading eye, 
 
 The wan cheek’s early roses fly j 
 And youthful feeling’s tender spray 
 Decaying, in life’s spring, away ! 
 
 If such there be, no sweet endearing smile 
 Of infant shall his evening cares beguile 5 
 c 
 
1 
 
 18 
 
 In vain for him shall vernal nature bloom, 
 
 No smiling sun shall cheer his mental gloom : 
 
 No rapturous joy his callous breast shall know, 
 From generous sympathy’s celestial glow ; 
 
 Oh ! ’tis not thus in Erin’s gallant isle ; 
 
 There, round every oaken bough, 
 
 The ivy tendril loves to gi*ow ; 
 
 And every tree that decks her flow’ery fields, 
 Support, or shade, to weaker fragrance yields ; 
 Save where the tasteless hands of art 
 Have prun’d, or fenc’d out nature from the heart : 
 Oh ! nought but selfish bigotr}^ could move 
 The feeling youth from Cathleen, and from love. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Deep in the precipice’s side, 
 
 And high above the darkest tide ;; 
 Yet, far conceal’d in shade, below 
 The towering rock’s projecting brow, 
 
A cave by nature’s hand was fram’d, 
 
 In which the sun-ray never gleam’d ; 
 
 And where the fox had never dar’d 
 E’en from the hunter’s chace to hide. 
 
 By the headlong prospect scar’d .* 
 
 From the adverse bank alone 
 The winding trackway could be seen j 
 Thence Kevin trac’d the shamrock path of green, 
 Amidst the labyrinth of stone. 
 
 Along the slippery steep he crept, 
 
 To seek the place of dangerous rest j 
 There, like the eagle in his brow-built nest, 
 He form’d his rushy bed ; 
 
 There he repos’d his guiltless head ; 
 
 And in the narrow cell he slept 
 
 As, after mortal struggles, sleep the dead. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Cathleen observ’d his absence, e’er 
 Commenc’d the hour of morning pray’r 5 
 
20 
 
 She heard the swelling anthem raise 
 The glorious hymn of grateful praise, 
 
 And mark’d well, from the solemn lay 
 The richest, softest tone away ; 
 
 The chord of noontide song was faint. 
 
 Far was the voice of the fervent saint. — (2) 
 
 She sought him in the hawthorn grove (h) 
 Which he had planted near the hallow’d grave, {/) 
 The “ resting place” of many a monarch brave, 
 ^V^lcre oft’ his steps devout were wont to rove ; 
 
 From beneath whose sacred shade. 
 
 Many a saint-instructed youth, (/:) 
 
 To distant barbarous shores, convey’d . 
 
 The sweets of classic lore and Christian truth. 
 
 (A) There is a group of thorns, between the cathedral and the lake, 
 Said to have been planted by St. Kevin. 
 
 (i) The Rhefeart Church, or ‘ the Sepulchre of Kings,’ is the burial- 
 place of seven monarchs. Upon one of the tomb-stones there is an 
 inscription, in Irish, of which the following is a translation ; “ Behold 
 “ the resting place of the body of King M‘Thuil, who died in Jesus 
 “ Christ, 1010.” — Archdall. Monas. Hiber. 
 
 (A) Kevin, his pupils, and successors, particularly St. Mochorog, 
 established seminaries at Glendaloch, and elsewhere in Ireland.- 
 Arch. Mon. Hiber, p. 765. 
 
21 
 
 XIII. 
 
 She sought within the abbey’s sculptur’d halls, (3) 
 
 Tlie rich cathedi'al’s ornamental walls ; (/) 
 
 The narrow sacristy ; (m) from whence she clomb, 
 With anxious hope, the stone-roof ’d (4) chapel’s dome. 
 From seven (5) belfry’d tow’rs she gaz’d in vain. 
 
 She sought him up the northern hill, 
 
 W^ich gallant Fin M‘Cool (n) had cleft in tw’ain; 
 
 And by Glendasan’s (o) blessed rill ; 
 
 (/) There are several emblematic bas-reliefs on the mouldings of ti>e 
 eastern window of the cathedral. I have mentioned that of tlie do^ 
 and the serpent ; St, Kevin is also represented embracing his favourite 
 willow, in allusion to a story which I shall relate hereafter. (6) 
 
 (m) A small room within the chapel, wherein the sacred vestments 
 were kept : to turn thrice round in it is said to be a charm for the 
 head-ach. 
 
 (n) It is among the traditions of Giendalocb, that Fin M'Cool, 
 M‘Cumhal, or Fingal, the celebrated general of Cormac O’Cuinn, 
 who w as King of Ireland in A. D. 256, cleft a rocky hill, on the north 
 of the lake, in twain w ith his sword. 
 
 (o) A stream called St. Kevin's Keeve, in which the superstitious 
 dip their sickly children every Sunday and Thursday and on the 3d of 
 June, before sun-rise. 
 
 
22 
 
 In the wild and craggy [p) dell. 
 
 The far-sequester’d shaded cell 
 Of lenten penance and of pray’r. 
 
 Where once, humane, in patient rest, 
 
 His suppliant hand the black-bird’s chosen nest, 
 
 He lay, {q) till, soaring on the buoyant air, 
 
 The feather’d off^^ring, from on high, 
 
 Fill’d, with their grateful songs, the sky. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Now had the crimson’d orb of day 
 Almost withdrawn its faded ray. 
 
 And as the last blush ting’d the west, 
 
 Hope sunk within her darken’d breast, 
 ‘Desponding, now she bent her homeward w’ay. 
 
 To seek repose for pain in midnight rest. 
 
 {p) The oratory of the saint, formed by his own hands, to which he 
 retired during the season of lent ; it is in a shaded and sequestered spot, 
 beyond St. Kevin’s Bed, and above the lake. 
 
 {q) Giraldus relates, that a black-bird having laid an egg in the palm 
 of St. Kevin, outstretched in prayer to Heaven, the saint retained his 
 hand in the same posture, until she young birds were fledged.— -Gir. 
 Cambr. Topog. — Antiq. Repet. 2. 235. — Hence he is always 
 imaged in this attitude. 
 
23 
 
 Scarce did her wearied eye-lids olose, 
 When, startled by the dismal tone 
 Of the wolf-dog’s watchful moan, 
 From her couch in haste she rose ; 
 
 On lightning wings of love she flew 
 To where, conducted by the sound, 
 Kevin’s faithful guard she found ; 
 
 And full well the sagacious hound 
 The welcome footstep knew. 
 
 XV. 
 
 To greet the favourite fair he sprung, 
 
 And fawning crouch’d, and lick’d her soothing hand 
 And then, with active joy, and gesture bland. 
 
 He led to where the rock the cave o’erhung. 
 
 His dumb looks, to the lively sense 
 Of anxious love, spake eloquence. 
 
 The first faint beam of twilight shone 
 On the dry grass, and moss-clad stone, 
 
w 
 
 1 
 
 24 
 
 And mark’d die oudines of dieir forms alone ; 
 But had it shewn the prospect dread 
 That gap’d beneath, by hope still led, 
 
 Had Catlileen sought the air-impended bed — 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Just then, in sleep, to Kevin’s view, 
 
 Fancy display’d a gently-bending form, 
 
 As Cathleen’s lovely was each winning charm ; 
 Languid was her eye of blue ; 
 
 A sudden flush of modest hue 
 
 Glow’d upon her pallid cheek ; 
 
 Just had her lips of fading rose 
 Op’d, like the smile of morning, meek, 
 
 Her chasten’d wishes to disclose : 
 
 It was too much — the youth, half vanquish’d, sprung 
 From off his couch, and rudely flung 
 Down the rocky precipice. 
 
 Into the dark and deep abyss. 
 
 The shade that o’er his sleep, enamour’d, hung. 
 
 J 
 
25 
 
 xvir. 
 
 He felt the shock, he heard the sound 
 Of the parting lake with the fall rebound, 
 
 And a faint voice gently sigh around, 
 
 Kevin farewell — ’Twas the dying tone 
 Of Cathleen sinking in the wave-— 
 
 Oh I prostrate on the fiital stone, 
 
 Fervent he pray’d, that Heav’n would save 
 The maid from an unchristian grave. 
 
 His pray’r half granted, like the mist of mom 
 Her floating form, along the surface borne, 
 Shone bright ; then faded in the dawning ray. 
 To light converted from his gaze away. 
 
 xvin. 
 
 And now a strain of harmony 
 Rose, in softest notes divine ; 
 
 As when in rapturous symphony 
 Spirits of immortals join. — 
 
 D 
 
26 
 
 Now it fills the vaulted skies ; 
 
 Now on the ravish’d senses dies ; 
 
 Now swells in one full heavenly chord ; 
 
 Now sinks, and silence, awful, is restor’d. 
 
 The heart resign’d of pious Kevin 
 Hail’d the still voice of gracious Heav’n : 
 
 Some tears of holy gratitude he shed. 
 
 That she was sav’d from an unhallow’d grave j 
 And many a sigh of deep regret he gave, 
 
 A tender tribute to the much-lov’d dead, 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But ne’er again, in the gloomy vale. 
 
 Did the blithe sky-lark (r) warbling hail, 
 
 With his melodious sprightly lay, 
 
 The morning’s welcome — beaming ray. — 
 
 (r) I have given this turn to the tradition — that the sky-lark has no 
 been heard to sing in the valley of Glendaloch, since the days of St . 
 Kevin. 
 
27 
 
 ’Tis said, that, e’er since, tlie dangerous cave 
 as gifted with the mystic pow'V, 
 
 That none who, from that fatal hour. 
 Should dare the slippery' path to prove, 
 And rest within its rocky bow’r, 
 
 Should sink into an early grave (5), 
 
 A mother with the fi*uits of wedded love. 
 
 XX. 
 
 And ever since, on the flowery gi’een, 
 
 , At Kevin’s festival (t) of birth. 
 
 The mountain nymphs and swains are seen 
 Combininj; in the dance of mirth. 
 
 Tliere many an aw'ful tale (7) is told. 
 Traditions of the times of old. 
 
 (i) It is a common superstition in the country*, that no penon can 
 die in child-bed who has ventured to explore St. Kevin’s bed. . 
 
 (/) The 3d of June. Upon that day is held a celebrated patron, or 
 festival, in honour of the patron saint. This spot is one of the four 
 great places of pilgrimage in Ireland. — See Ledwich. 
 
28 
 
 Which the fond ears of wondering youth 
 Devour as words of sacred truth 5 
 And credulous age consumes away, 
 
 In lisping them, the lengthen’d summer’s day — 
 
 While croaking ravens hovering o’er 
 
 The ruin’d pile, that day condemn’d to soar. 
 
 By sacred curse, (?^) depriv’d of food and rest, 
 Increase the solemn terrors of each breast. 
 
 (k) See the history of this Curse of St. Kevio, Cir. Topog. p. 
 
ADDITIONAL NOTES. 
 
 1 (page 12.) St. Kevin.— Coemgeiie, or Kevin, a native of 
 Glendaloch, in the bloom of youth, and full enjoyment of 
 admiration for his talents, and distinction from his noble 
 rank, betook himself to a religious course of life. He 
 founded the abbey of Glendaloch, wherein he is interred. 
 He was born on the 3d of June, 498, and died upon the 
 anniversary of that day, at the age of 120 years. He was 
 sainted for his learning and virtues ; and holds the highest 
 rank in the orders of superstitious veneration. At the pe- 
 riod of Giraldus’s visit to Ireland, in the reign of Henry II. 
 there were several current traditions of this saint, some of 
 which he has recorded, (Topography, p. 72b.); and he is 
 also mentioned w ith great estimation iu an ancient Icelandic 
 Chronicle, called the Speculum Regale, containing a le- 
 gendary account of Ireland ; which is described in the 
 Antiquarian Repertory, vol. ii. p. 232. His death is thus 
 curiously related by Colgan : — He sent twelve of his nu- 
 merous disciples to pray for the accomplishment of his 
 wishes : on their return, he told them, to their exceeding 
 sorrow, that they had been praying for his death ; as he 
 had been promised by the Deity not to be taken from this 
 life, until he should desire to die. He then blessed them 
 and the place ; received the sacrament from his favourite 
 St. Mochorog, (an English pupil) and, inter choros Ange- 
 lorum Archangelorum Agmina, migravit ad Jerusalem 
 celestem. Colgan, Tr. Thaum. 210. He was the author of 
 some tracts ; but Arclidale is mistaken in saying that he 
 w rote the life of St. Patrick, which is attributed, by Ware, 
 to St. Evin. — Ware's Writers, p. 23. — Archd. Monas Hib. 
 p. 765. 
 
so 
 
 2 (page 20.) — Tliat hymning was a very favourite part 
 of tlie sacred service of the first Christian Irish, and par- 
 ticularly St. Kevin, vide Colgan, Tri. Thauni, ub. sup. 
 
 3 (page 2 1 .) —One of the most interesting subjects for 
 antiquarian investigation in Ireland, is the monastery of 
 Glendaloch ; which has hut lately been made known to the 
 public, through the research of the late Samuel Hayes, of 
 Avondale, Esq. Upon dio*ging among the rubbish, he dis- 
 covered several stones sculptured with runic devices. They 
 are described by Ledwich, page 207, 2d edit, and served 
 chiefly to adorn the entrance of a crypt which is supposed 
 to have contained the relics of the saint. As these are un- 
 doubtedly of Danish origin, and therefore not more ancient 
 than the pth century, I may be accused of anachronism in 
 alluding to them; and indeed in mentioning the abbey or 
 cathedral as coeval w itli St. Kevin ; but such liberties, and 
 some others w hich I have taken, w ill, I hope, be allowed 
 to poetical embellishment ; especially as the allusions above 
 mmied are to ornameuts of sculpture in the general. 
 
 4 (page 2 1 .) — The stone-roofed churches are the earliest 
 specimens of masonry in Ireland, (except the round towers, 
 which are of pagan* antiquity) ; there are but few of them 
 now remaining; King Cormac's chapel at Cashel; St. Dou- 
 lagh’s, (or St. Olave’s) near Dublin; this at Glendaloch, 
 vulgarly called St. Kevin's kitchen ; and but tw'O or three 
 more. 
 
 5 .(page 21.) — The sacred number of churches, is 
 to be met with in many hallow’d places in Ireland ; in the 
 
 ■X 
 
 Vallancey's Collectanea, vol. ii. p. 117. iH. 193. & vi. 121. 
 
31 
 
 island of Scattery in the river Shannon, at St. Patrick’s 
 Purgatory in an island of Lough Derg, at Glendaloch, 
 and at Clonmacnoi.se. This number of edifices is no proof 
 of any considerable degree of population having existed in 
 the spot in which they are placed ; for such was impossible 
 at Scattery : they are only evidence of its having been a place 
 of great superstitious resort. Indeed, the neighbourhood of 
 Glendaloch, which is itself a narrow plain covered with a 
 thin soil, could not have afforded subsistence to any great 
 number of inhabitants. However, that it was a place of 
 great, importance in former times, is proved by tradition 
 and history, by its being the scite of a Bishop’s see, by the 
 remains of its buildings, and of a paved road to Kildare, 
 which may be traced for some di.stauce upon the southern 
 hill. 
 
 6 (page 21.)— It is related, in the Icelandic Chronicle, 
 that a youth, the relative of the Saint and much beloved 
 by him, was attacked by a dangerous disorder in the month 
 of March, at a season when apples, which were esteemed to 
 be the only cure for the disease, could not be had. At the 
 prayer of the Saint, a large willow tree was immediately 
 covered with the desired fruit; and the youth was restored 
 by the use of it to health. St. Kevin is represented, (v. ante 
 note Z) on the freize of the cathedral w indow^, embracing the 
 willow ; and Giraldus asserts, that the tree existed in his 
 days, .(the i2th century) and was then resorted to for its 
 
 miraculous assistance against many disorders. Topog. 
 
 p- 726. 
 
 7 (page 27.) — I shall here add a few traditions, connected 
 with the place, for the purpose of directing the curiosity of 
 the visitors of Glendaloch. 
 
32 
 
 St. Kevin, in a time of dearth, met with a woman carrying ■ 
 
 a sack wliich contained five loaves: as a punishment for her ^ 
 
 avarice, tlie saint prayed that they might become stones; 
 tliey did so accordingly ! For some time they were kept as 
 rcliqiies in the Rhefeart cliurch, and are now sliewn in the 
 valley in their original shape. — Ledwich, 176. 
 
 f 
 
 Among the superstitious objects of curiosity that are 
 shewn at Glendaloch, is a cross, to w hich there are many 
 similar in Ireland, in which there is a hole that is supposed 
 to bestow absolution and regeneration on >vhoever thrust^ 
 his hands through it | 
 
 There is at Glendaloch the ruin of a large ye\v-tree ; a 
 splinter of w hich is of great efficacy in preserving from the 
 dangers of child-birth ! Its branches were cut, some short 
 time ago, by a neighbouring gentleman, to w ork into fur- 
 niture ; and it lias since rapidly decayed. 
 
 Near tjie Rhefeart chinch is a circle of stones, piled 
 about three feet high, round which the pilgriins performed 
 penance. 
 
 The reader will find a curious account in Walsh’s Pro- 
 spect, p. 29 -t, of another ^int of this valley ; Laurence, 
 
 Archbishop of Dublin and Abbot of Glendaloch : he op- 
 posed the first English invasion, and fought, at the head qf * 
 
 his forces, at the siege of Dublin in 1171. Leland, Vol. i. 
 p. 55 and 136, and his Life by Surius. The original 
 charter from Strongbow to his nephew, who was abbot of 
 Glendaloch, is to be seen in the black book of Christ 
 Church, p. 92 . 
 
 ■ii 
 
 ij 
 
 THE END,