Transcribed from the 1870 G. J. Palmer edition ,
In Omnibusglorificetur Deus.
—Regula, S.Benedicti, Cap. lvij.
THE HOLY ISLE;
A Legend of Bardsey Abbey.
By IGNATIUS, O.S.B.
Dedicated, withoutpermission, to Lord Newborough, and to the
Rev. Hugh Roberts, Vicar of Aberdaron,Carnarvonshire.
LONDON:
G. J. PALMER, 32, LITTLE QUEEN STREET,
LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS.
1870.
THE HOLY ISLE.
A Legend of Bardsey Abbey.
I watched the seawaves ebbing,
Beneath the crimson glow,
Which sunset light was pouring,
Upon their soft, sweet flow.
The wavelets looked liked dancers,
Upon the sun-lit sea,
They sung in whispering chorus,—
I thought they sung to me
Of fair and far off landscapes
Beyond that molten tide,
Of better joys, and gladness
Beyond those waters wide.
p. 2The waveletsall seemed passing
On, to some other strands,
And following the sun’s-glow,
To ever sun-lit lands.
But as I thought these fancies,
Again I raised mine eyes
And saw the sunset tinting
The glorious western skies.
Now ’mid the farewell glories
“Of Sol’s departing ray,”
I saw an Island resting
Upon his golden way.
There, misty mid the Sunshine,
The far off Isle appears,
Right out among the sea waves
Its rocky coast uprears.
And as I gaze, the sunset
Seems lighting up its shore,
Bathing the isle in glory
And then is seen no more.
p. 3Sweet,soothing calm fell o’er me
I watched the Islet still,
All round me heard I voices
Which seemed the air to fill.
Said one, “That Isle is holy,
For Saints are sleeping there,
Now lonely and deserted,
T’was once an Isle of prayer.”
“O Man! say would’st thou tremble,
To come away and see,
In vision, strange, sweet pictures
Which I can shew to thee?”
The Angel was so lovely,
So sweet the Angel’s smile,
I easily consented,—
He pointed to the Isle!
“Then will I bear thee thither,
One thousand years ago;—
I speak to aid thy weakness,
No time can Angels know.
p. 4The present,past, and future,
All one they are to me,
I pass along their boundaries,
Unlimited, and free.”
A strange, calm change stole o’er me,
My spirit seemed to rise
In gentle, tireless motion,
Just as the sea-bird flies.
My Angel-guide was leading
My spirit o’er the sea
One moment—and we rested,
Upon the Islet’s lea.
Soft gloaming filled the air,