Amidst all the earnest and laborious efforts of St. Columkille in the cause of religion, he never forgot his native country. He looked upon himself as an exile, though a voluntary exile in a great and glorious cause; and a tender regret was always mingled with his recollections of Ireland. We have in our old books a very ancient poem in the Irish language, believed to have been composed by him, in which he expresses himself in this manner:--

"How delightful to be on Ben-Edar before embarking on the foam-white sea: how pleasant to row one's little curragh all round it, to look upward at its bare steep border, and to hear the waves dashing; against its rocky cliffs.

"A grey eye looks back towards Erin: a grey eye full of tears.

"While I traverse Alban of the ravens, I think on my little oak grove in Derry. If the tributes and the riches of Alban were mine, from the centre to the utmost borders, I would prefer to them all one little house in Derry. The reason I love Derry is for its quietness, for its purity, for its crowds of white angels.

"How sweet it is to think of Durrow: how delightful would it be to hear the music of the breeze rustling through its groves.

"Plentiful is the fruit in the Western Island--beloved Erin of many waterfalls: plentiful her n.o.ble proves of oak. Many are her kings and princes; sweet-voiced her clerics; her birds warble joyously in the woods; gentle are her youths; wise her seniors; comely and graceful her women, of spotless virtue; ill.u.s.trious her men, of n.o.ble aspect.

"There is a grey eye that fills with tears when it looks back towards Erin. While I stand on the oaken deck of my bark I stretch my vision westwards over the briny sea towards Erin."

During his whole life Columkille retained his affection for his native land and for everything connected with it. One breezy day, when he was now in his old age in Iona, a crane appeared flying towards the island: it was beaten about by the wind, and with much difficulty it reached the beach, where it fell down quite spent with hunger and fatigue. And the good old man said to one of his monks:--

"That crane has come from our dear fatherland, and I earnestly commend it to thee: nurse and cherish it tenderly till it is strong enough to return again to its sweet home in Scotia."

Accordingly the monk took the bird up in his arms and brought it to the hospice, and fed and tended it for three days till it had quite recovered. The third day was calm, and the bird rose from the earth till it had come to a great height, when resting for a moment to look forward, it stretched out its neck and directed its course towards Ireland.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Round Tower of St. Canice, Kilkenny: 100 feet high, and perfect, except that it wants the pointed cap. St. Canice was an intimate friend of St. Columkille: but this tower was not erected till some centuries after the death of the two saints.]

On the day before the saint's death he went to a little hill hard by the monastery that overlooked the whole place; and gazing-lovingly round him for the last time, he lifted up his hands and blessed the monastery. And as he was returning with his attendant, he grew tired and sat down half way to rest; for he was now very weak. While he was sitting here an old white horse that was employed for many years to carry the pails between the milking place and the monastery, first looked at him intently, and then, coming up slowly, step by step, he laid his head gently on the saint's bosom. And he began to moan pitifully, and big tears rolled from his eyes and fell into the saint's lap: which, when the attendant saw, he came up to drive him away. Put the old man said:--"Let him alone: he loves me. May be G.o.d has given him some dim knowledge that his master is going; from him and from you all: so let him alone." At last, standing up, he blessed the poor old animal and returned to the monastery.

The death call came to him when he was seventy-six years of age. Though his death was not a sudden one, he had no sickness before it: he simply sank, wearied out with his life-long labours. Although he knew his end was near, he kept writing one of the Psalms till he could write no longer; while his companion Baithen sat beside him. At last, laying down the pen, he said, "Let Baithen write the rest."

On the night of that same day, at the toll of the midnight bell for prayer, he rose, feeble as he was, from his bed, which was nothing but a bare flagstone, and went to the church hard by, followed immediately after by his attendant Dermot. He arrived there before the others had time to bring in the lights; and Dermot, losing sight of him in the darkness, called out several times, "Where are you, father?" Perceiving no reply, he felt his way, till he found his master before the altar kneeling and leaning forward on the steps: and raising him up a little, supported his head on his breast. The monks now came up with the lights; and seeing their beloved old master dying, they began to weep. He looked at them with his face lighted up with joy, and tried to utter a blessing; but being unable to speak, he raised his hand a little to bless them, and in the very act of doing so he died in Dermot's arms.[150-1]

[150-1] This simple and beautiful narrative of the last days of St.

Columkille, including the two pleasing little stories about the crane and the old white horse, with the affecting account of the saint's death, is taken altogether from Ad.a.m.nan's Life. The circ.u.mstances of Columkille's death are, in some respects, very like those attending the death of the Venerable Bede, as recorded in the tender and loving letter of his pupil, the monk Cuthbert. But Ad.a.m.nan's narrative was written more than forty years before that of Cuthbert.

Baithen was St. Columkille's first cousin and his most beloved disciple, and succeeded him as abbot of Iona.

x.x.xIII.

PRINCE ALFRED IN IRELAND.

It has been already stated (p. 47) that in early ages great numbers of foreigners came to Ireland to study in the colleges. Among those was Aldfrid or Alfred,[150-2] Prince of Northumbria, one of the Kingdoms of the Saxon Heptarchy. His history is interesting to us as exhibiting an example of the cla.s.s of persons who came to Ireland for education in those days, and as showing the close relations existing between many of the royal families of England and Ireland.

[150-2] This Alfred must be distinguished from Alfred the Great who lived two centuries later.

In the year 670, on the death of his father Oswy, who was king of Northumbria, the throne was seized unjustly by Alfred's younger brother, Egfrid: whereupon Alfred fled to Ireland. He was all the more ready to choose this as his place of exile, inasmuch as he was fond of learning, and he knew well that there were more learned and skilful teachers and better opportunities for study in Ireland than elsewhere. But he had another good reason; for his mother Fina [Feena] was an Irish princess of the family of the kings of Meath. The Irish knew him by the name "Flann," or more commonly Flann Fina, from his mother. He remained many years in Ireland, studying with great diligence in various colleges, till he had mastered most of the branches of learning then taught. He became specially skilled in the Holy Scriptures, and he also learned to speak and write the Irish language.

While he was in Ireland he was for a time under the instruction of St.

Ad.a.m.nan, the writer of the life of St. Columkille (see p. 140, note); and so close and affectionate was the intimacy between them, that the ancient Irish writers often call Alfred Ad.a.m.nan's foster-son.

In the year 684 a party of Saxons were sent from Northumbria by Egfrid across the sea on a plundering expedition to Ireland. Having ravaged the coast of Meath,[152-1] between Ben-Edar and the Boyne, these marauders carried off a number of captives, who were held in bondage during the short remainder of his reign. In the very next year Egfrid was killed in battle, on which the Northumbrian n.o.bles, who were well aware of Alfred's virtues and great abilities, sent to Ireland inviting him to take the throne: and accordingly he returned to England and became king of the Northumbrians.

[152-1] Meath, one of the five Kingdoms into which Ireland was divided. Ben-Edar, the old name of Howth, near Dublin.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Ancient Irish thin plate of gold, twice the size of the picture. This is one of the bosses at the two ends of a gorget, like that figured at page 19. Now in the National Museum, Dublin.]

The poor captives were still kept in slavery: but Ad.a.m.nan, seeing now a chance for their release, proceeded to the Northumbrian court to plead with his friend and former pupil for their restoration. He was received most affectionately; and at his intercession the king had the captives set free. Ad.a.m.nan then brought them back, to the number of sixty, and restored them all rejoicing to their homes and friends.

As soon as Alfred had taken possession of the throne he took careful measures to have his people instructed in learning, religion, and virtue, in accordance with what he had himself seen and learned in Ireland; and he governed his kingdom for nineteen years in peace and prosperity.

In several ancient Irish ma.n.u.scripts, including the Book of Leinster, there is a poem in the Irish language in praise of Ireland, said to have been composed by Alfred Flann Fina; of which the following are some of the verses faithfully translated[153-1]:--

PRINCE ALDFRID'S ACCOUNT OF IRELAND.

I found in Inisfail the fair, In Ireland, while in exile there, Women of worth, both grave and gay men, Many clerics and many laymen.

I travelled its fruitful provinces round, And in every one of the five I found, Alike in church and in palace hall, Abundant apparel, and food for all.

Gold and silver I found, and money, Plenty of wheat and plenty of honey; I found G.o.d's people rich in pity, Found many a feast and many a city.

I found in Munster, unfettered of any, Kings, and queens, and poets a many-- Poets well skilled in music and measure, Prosperous doings, mirth and pleasure.

I found in Connaught the just, redundance Of riches, milk in lavish abundance; Hospitality, vigour, fame, In Cruachan's[154-1] land of heroic name.

I found in Ulster, from hill to glen, Hardy warriors, resolute men; Beauty that bloomed when youth was gone, And strength transmitted from sire to son.

I found in Leinster the smooth and sleek, From Dublin to Slewmargy's[154-2] peak; Flourishing pastures, valour, health, Long-living worthies, commerce, wealth.

I found in Meath's fair princ.i.p.ality, Virtue, vigour, and hospitality; Candour, joyfulness, bravery, purity, Ireland's bulwark and security.

I found strict morals in age and youth, I found historians recording truth; The things I sing of in verse unsmooth, I found them all--I have written sooth.

[153-1] It was translated very exactly into prose in 1832 by the great Irish scholar Dr. John O'Donovan: the Irish poet James Clarence Mangan turned this prose with very little change into verse, part of which is given here.

[154-1] Cruachan or Croghan in the north of the present Co.

Roscommon, the ancient palace of the kings of Connaught: see page 52.

[154-2] Slewmargy, now Slievemargy, a low range of hills in Queen's County.

x.x.xIV.

THE VOYAGE OF MAILDUNE.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE ADVENTURES OF MAILDUNE[155-1] AND HIS CREW, AND OF THE WONDERFUL THINGS THEY SAW DURING THEIR VOYAGE OF THREE YEARS AND SEVEN MONTHS, IN THEIR CURRAGH, ON THE WESTERN SEA.