| |
| WE gazed on Corryvrekin’s whirl, | |
| We sailed by Jura’s shore, | |
| Where sang of old the mermaid-girl, | |
| Whose shell is heard no more; | |
| We came to Fingal’s pillared cave, | 5 |
| That minster in the sea, | |
| And sang—while clapped its hands the wave | |
| And worshipped even as we. | |
| |
| But when, at fair Iona’s bound, | |
| We leaped upon its soil, | 10 |
| I felt indeed ’twas holy ground,— | |
| Too holy for such spoil; | |
| For spoilers came in evil day, | |
| Where once to Christ they prayed: | |
| Alas! His Body—ta’en away, | 15 |
| We know not where ’t was laid. | |
| |
| We strode above those ancient graves, | |
| We worshipped by that Cross, | |
| And where their snow-white manes the waves | |
| Like troops of chargers toss, | 20 |
| We gazed upon the distant scene, | |
| And thought how Columb came | |
| To kindle here the Gospel’s sheen, | |
| And preach the Saviour’s name: | |
| |
| Came where the rude marauding clan | 25 |
| Enforced him to an isle; | |
| Came but to bless and not to ban, | |
| To make the desert smile. | |
| He made his island church a gem | |
| That sparkled in the night, | 30 |
| Or like that Star of Bethlehem, | |
| That bathes the world with light. | |
| |
| But look! this isle that gems the deep— | |
| One glance may all behold | |
| This was the shelter of his sheep, | 35 |
| This was Columba’s fold. | |
| Bishops were gold in days of yore, | |
| For golden was their good, | |
| But in their pastoral hands they bore | |
| A shepherd’s staff of wood. | 40 |
| |
| Here elders and his deacons due | |
| ’Neath one blest roof they dwelt, | |
| And, ere the bird of dawning crew, | |
| They rose to pray,—and knelt: | |
| Here, watching through the darker hours, | 45 |
| Vigil and fast they kept, | |
| Like those, once hailed by heavenly powers, | |
| While Herod drowsed and slept. | |
| |
| Thus gleaming like a pharos forth | |
| To shed of Truth the flame, | 50 |
| A Patmos of the frozen North | |
| Iona’s isle became. | |
| The isles that waited for God’s Law | |
| Mid all the highlands round, | |
| That beacon as it blazed—they saw, | 55 |
| They sought the Light and found. | |
| |
| It shone upon those headlands hoar | |
| That crest thy coasts, Argyle; | |
| To watchers, far as Mona’s shore, | |
| It seemed a burning pile; | 60 |
| To peasant cots and fishers’ skiffs | |
| It brightened lands and seas; | |
| From Solway to Edina’s cliffs, | |
| And southward to the Tees. | |
| |
| Nay more! For when, that day of bliss, | 65 |
| I sought Columba’s bay, | |
| Came one, as from the wilderness, | |
| A thousand leagues away; | |
| A bishop of Columba’s kin, | |
| As primitive as he, | 70 |
| Knelt pilgrim-like, those walls within, | |
| The Saint of Tennessee. | |
| |
| Thrilled as with rapture strange and wild, | |
| I saw him worship there; | |
| And Otey, like a little child, | 75 |
| Outpoured his soul in prayer. | |
| For oh! to him came thoughts, I ween, | |
| Of one who crossed the seas, | |
| And brought from distant Aberdeen | |
| Gifts of the old Culdees. | 80 |
| |
| Great God, how marvellous the flame | |
| A little spark may light! | |
| What here was kindled first—the same | |
| Makes far Atlantis bright: | |
| Not Scotia’s clans, nor Umbria’s son | 85 |
| Alone that beacon blest, | |
| It shines to-day o’er Oregon, | |
| And glorifies our West. | |
| |
| Columbia from Columba claims | |
| More than great Colon brought, | 90 |
| And long entwined those twins of names | |
| Shall waken grateful thought; | |
| And where the Cross is borne afar | |
| To California’s shore, | |
| Columba’s memory like a star | 95 |
| Shall brighten evermore. | |
| |
