Poems by Denis Florence MacCarthy Part 13

THE VOYAGE OF ST. BRENDAN.

A.D. 545.

[We are informed that Brendan, hearing of the previous voyage of his cousin, Barinthus, in the western ocean, and obtaining an account from him of the happy isles he had landed on in the far west, determined, under the strong desire of winning heathen souls to Christ, to undertake a voyage of discovery himself. And aware that all along the western coast of Ireland there were many traditions respecting the existence of a western land, he proceeded to the islands of Arran, and there remained for some time, holding communication with the venerable St. Enda, and obtaining from him much information relating to his voyage. Having prosecuted his inquiries with diligence, Brendan returned to his native Kerry; and from a bay sheltered by the lofty mountain that is now known by his name, he set sail for the Atlantic land; and, directing his course towards the south-west, in order to meet the summer solstice, or what we should call the tropic, after a long and rough voyage, his little bark being well provisioned, he came to summer seas, where he was carried along, without the aid of sail or oar, for many a long day.

This, which it is to be presumed was the great gulf-stream, brought his vessel to sh.o.r.e somewhere about the Virginian capes, or where the American coast tends eastward, and forms the New England States. Here landing, he and his companions marched steadily into the interior for fifteen days, and then came to a large river, flowing from east to west: this, evidently, was the river Ohio. And this the holy adventurer was about to cross, when he was accosted by a person of n.o.ble presence--but whether a real or visionary man does not appear--who told him he had gone far enough; that further discoveries were reserved for other men, who would, in due time, come and Christianise all that pleasant land.

It is said he remained seven years away, and returned to set up a college of three thousand monks, at Clonfert.--"Caesar Otway's Sketches in Erris and Tyrawley," note, pp. 98, 99.]

THE VOCATION.

[When St. Brendan was an infant, says Colgan, he was placed under the care of St. Ita, and remained with her five years, after which period he was led away by Bishop Ercus in order to receive from him the more solid instruction necessary for his advancing years. Brendan always retained the greatest respect and affection for his foster-mother, and he is represented, after his seven years' voyage, amusing St. Ita with an account of his adventures in the ocean.]

O Ita, mother of my heart and mind-- My nourisher, my fosterer, my friend, Who taught me first to G.o.d's great will resigned, Before his s.h.i.+ning altar-steps to bend; Who poured his word upon my soul like balm, And on mine eyes what pious fancy paints-- And on mine ear the sweetly swelling psalm, And all the sacred knowledge of the saints;

To whom but thee, dear mother, should be told Of all the wonders I have seen afar?-- Islands more green and suns of brighter gold Than this dear land or yonder blazing star; Of hills that bear the fruit-trees on their tops, And seas that dimple with eternal smiles; Of airs from heaven that fan the golden crops, O'er the great ocean 'mid the blessed isles!

Thou knowest, O my mother! how to thee The blessed Ercus led me when a boy, And how within thine arms and at thine knee, I learned the lore that death cannot destroy; And how I parted hence with bitter tears, And felt, when turning from thy friendly door, In the reality of ripening years, My paradise of childhood was no more.

I wept--but not with sin such tear-drops flow;-- I sighed--for earthly things with heaven entwine; Tears make the harvest of the heart to grow, And love though human is almost divine.

The heart that loves not knows not how to pray; The eye can never smile that never weeps: 'Tis through our sighs hope's kindling sunbeams play And through our tears the bow of promise peeps.

I grew to manhood by the western wave, Among the mighty mountains on the sh.o.r.e: My bed the rock within some natural cave, My food whate'er the seas or seasons bore: My occupation, morn and noon and night: The only dream my hasty slumbers gave, Was Time's unheeding, unreturning flight, And the great world that lies beyond the grave.

And thus, where'er I went, all things to me a.s.sumed the one deep colour of my mind; Great nature's prayer rose from the murmuring sea, And sinful man sighed in the wintry wind.

The thick-veiled clouds by shedding many a tear, Like penitents, grew purified and bright, And, bravely struggling through earth's atmosphere, Pa.s.sed to the regions of eternal light.

I loved to watch the clouds now dark and dun, In long procession and funeral line, Pa.s.s with slow pace across the glorious sun, Like hooded monks before a dazzling shrine.

And now with gentler beauty as they rolled Along the azure vault in gladsome May, Gleaming pure white, and edged with broidered gold, Like snowy vestments on the Virgin's day.

And then I saw the mighty sea expand Like Time's unmeasured and unfathomed waves, One with its tide-marks on the ridgy sand, The other with its line of weedy graves; And as beyond the outstretched wave of time, The eye of Faith a brighter land may meet, So did I dream of some more sunny clime Beyond the waste of waters at my feet.

Some clime where man, unknowing and unknown, For G.o.d's refres.h.i.+ng word still gasps and faints; Or happier rather some Elysian zone, Made for the habitation of his saints: Where Nature's love the sweat of labour spares, Nor turns to usury the wealth it lends, Where the rich soil spontaneous harvest bears, And the tall tree with milk-filled cl.u.s.ters bends.

The thought grew stronger with my growing days, Even like to manhood's strengthening mind and limb, And often now amid the purple haze That evening breathed upon the horizon's rim-- Methought, as there I sought my wished-for home, I could descry amid the waters green, Full many a diamond shrine and golden dome, And crystal palaces of dazzling sheen.

And then I longed, with impotent desire, Even for the bow whereby the Python bled, That I might send on dart of the living fire Into that land, before the vision fled, And thus at length fix the enchanted sh.o.r.e, Hy-Brasail, Eden of the western wave!

That thou again wouldst fade away no more, Buried and lost within thy azure grave.

But angels came and whispered as I dreamt, "This is no phantom of a frenzied brain-- G.o.d shows this land from time to time to tempt Some daring mariner across the main: By thee the mighty venture must be made, By thee shall myriad souls to Christ be won!

Arise, depart, and trust to G.o.d for aid!"

I woke, and kneeling, cried, "His will be done!"

ARA OF THE SAINTS.[53]

Hearing how blessed Enda lived apart, Amid the sacred caves of Ara-mhor, And how beneath his eye, spread like a chart, Lay all the isles of that remotest sh.o.r.e; And how he had collected in his mind All that was known to man of the Old Sea,[54]

I left the Hill of Miracles[55] behind, And sailed from out the shallow, sandy Leigh.

Betwixt the Samphire Isles swam my light skiff, And like an arrow flew through Fenor Sound, Swept by the pleasant strand, and the tall cliff, Whereon the pale rose amethysts are found.

Rounded Moyferta's rocky point, and crossed The mouth of stream-streaked Erin's mightiest tide, Whose troubled waves break o'er the City lost, Chafed by the marble turrets that they hide.

Beneath Ibrickan's hills, moory and tame, And Inniscaorach's caves, so wild and dark, I sailed along. The white-faced otter came, And gazed in wonder on my floating bark.

The soaring gannet, perched upon my mast, And the proud bird, that flies but o'er the sea, Wheeled o'er my head: and the girrinna pa.s.sed Upon the branch of some life-giving tree.[56]

Leaving the awful cliffs of Corcomroe, I sought the rocky eastern isle, that bears The name of blessed Coemhan, who doth show Pity unto the storm-tossed seaman's prayers; Then crossing Bealach-na-fearbach's treacherous sound, I reached the middle isle, whose citadel Looks like a monarch from its throne around; And there I rested by St. Kennerg's well.

Again I sailed, and crossed the stormy sound That lies beneath Binn-Aite's rocky height-- And there, upon the sh.o.r.e, the Saint I found Waiting my coming though the tardy night.

He led me to his home beside the wave, Where, with his monks, the pious father dwelled, And to my listening ear he freely gave The sacred knowledge that his bosom held.

When I proclaimed the project that I nursed, How 'twas for this that I his blessing sought, An irrepressible cry of joy outburst From his pure lips, that blessed me for the thought.

He said that he, too, had in visions strayed Over the untracked ocean's billowy foam; Bid me have hope, that G.o.d would give me aid, And bring me safe back to my native home.

Oft, as we paced that marble-covered land, Would blessed Enda tell me wondrous tales-- How, for the children of his love, the hand Of the Omnipotent Father never fails-- How his own sister,[57] standing by the side Of the great sea, which bore no human bark, Spread her light cloak upon the conscious tide, And sailed thereon securely as an ark.

And how the winds become the willing slaves Of those who labour in the work of G.o.d; And how Scothinus walked upon the waves, Which seemed to him the meadow's verdant sod.

How he himself came hither with his flock, To teach the infidels from Corcomroe, Upon the floating breast of the hard rock, Which lay upon the glistening sands below.

But not alone of miracles and joys Would Enda speak--he told me of his dream; When blessed Kieran went to Clonmacnois, To found the sacred churches by the stream-- How he did weep to see the angels flee Away from Arran as a place accursed; And men tear up the island-shading tree, Out of the soil from which it sprung at first.

At length I tore me from the good man's sight, And o'er Loch Lurgan's mouth[58] took my lone way, Which, in the sunny morning's golden light, Shone like the burning lake of La.s.sarae; Now 'neath heaven's frown--and now, beneath its smile-- Borne on the tide, or driven before the gale; And, as I pa.s.sed MacDara's sacred Isle, Thrice bowed my mast, and thrice let down my sail.

Westward of Arran as I sailed away; I saw the fairest sight eye can behold-- Rocks which, illumined by the morning's ray, Seemed like a glorious city built of gold.

Men moved along each sunny s.h.i.+ning street, Fires seemed to blaze, and curling smoke to rise, When lo! the city vanished, and a fleet, With snowy sails, rose on my ravished eyes.

Thus having sought for knowledge and for strength, For the unheard-of voyage that I planned, I left these myriad isles, and turned at length Southward my bark, and sought my native land.

There made I all things ready, day by day, The wicker-boat, with ox-skins covered o'er-- Chose the good monks companions of my way, And waited for the wind to leave the sh.o.r.e.

THE VOYAGE.

At length the long-expected morning came, When from the opening arms of that wild bay, Beneath the hill that bears my humble name, Over the waves we took our untracked way; Sweetly the morning lay on tarn and rill, Gladly the waves played in its golden light, And the proud top of the majestic hill Shone in the azure air, serene and bright.

Over the sea we flew that sunny morn, Not without natural tears and human sighs: For who can leave the land where he was born, And where, perchance, a buried mother lies; Where all the friends of riper manhood dwell, And where the playmates of his childhood sleep: Who can depart, and breathe a cold farewell, Nor let his eyes their honest tribute weep?

Our little bark, kissing the dimpled smiles On ocean's cheek, flew like a wanton bird, And then the land, with all its hundred isles, Faded away, and yet we spoke no word.

Each silent tongue held converse with the past, Each moistened eye looked round the circling wave, And, save the spot where stood our trembling mast, Saw all things hid within one mighty grave.

We were alone, on the wide watery waste-- Nought broke its bright monotony of blue, Save where the breeze the flying billows chased, Or where the clouds their purple shadows threw.

We were alone--the pilgrims of the sea-- One boundless azure desert round us spread; No hope, no trust, no strength, except in THEE, Father, who once the pilgrim-people led.

And when the bright-faced sun resigned his throne Unto the Ethiop queen, who rules the night, Who with her pearly crown and starry zone, Fills the dark dome of heaven with silvery light;-- As on we sailed, beneath her milder sway, And felt within our hearts her holier power, We ceased from toil, and humbly knelt to pray, And hailed with vesper hymns the tranquil hour!

For then, indeed, the vaulted heavens appeared A fitting shrine to hear their Maker's praise, Such as no human architect has reared, Where gems, and gold, and precious marbles blaze.

What earthly temple such a roof can boast?-- What flickering lamp with the rich starlight vies, When the round moon rests, like the sacred Host, Upon the azure altar of the skies?

We breathed aloud the Christian's filial prayer, Which makes us brothers even with the Lord; Our Father, cried we, in the midnight air, In heaven and earth be thy great name adored; May thy bright kingdom, where the angels are, Replace this fleeting world, so dark and dim.

And then, with eyes fixed on some glorious star, We sang the Virgin-Mother's vesper hymn!