Attila and His Conquerors: A Story of the Days of St. Patrick and St. Leo the GreatCharles, Elizabeth Rundle
History
Attila and His Conquerors: A Story of the Days of St. Patrick and St. Leo the Great
Charles, Elizabeth Rundle
Attila, -453 -- Fiction; Christian fiction; Rome -- History -- Empire, 284-476 -- Fiction
“Only in the germ, at all events,” said Ethne. “I suppose the germs of
all the heresies and sins are everywhere.”
But although they were too near the seat of judgment and the throne of
rule not to see the dark as well as the bright side, Lucia and Marius
felt they had come as to a sacred hearth, glowing with love and life,
warm with the natural warm-heartedness of the race towards their own,
and still more with the glow of first love in the hearts of Patrick’s
Christians.
It was near Easter when they arrived, the great season of the baptisms.
Only three years before, Ethne and Baithene, with Ethne their mother,
had been baptized among the first converts. And now well-nigh the whole
clan—old and young, children and grey-haired men and women—gathered as
catechumens around Patrick and his priests for instruction. It was a time
of wonderful awakening and joy. Marius had seen Rome lit up for Easter,
and at Ravenna darkness turned into day through the night of Easter Eve,
by the gigantic candles and torches flaming along all the streets. But
never did any illumination seem to him so festive as this in that far-off
barbaric island, which the glory of the sunrise had so lately touched.
The halls of Ethne’s home were lit up with torches; every hut and cabin
had its humble illumination; and the hills flamed the good news to one
another from summit to summit, the great Easter greeting, “_The Lord is
risen_,” “_He is risen indeed!_”
And when the firelight melted into the dawn, the white-robed catechumens
were awake and moving in festive processions from place to place, and
all the land was full of songs of joy—new songs. Patrick throughout his
mission to Ireland from the beginning had aimed straight at the hearts of
her people, at the consciences of her chiefs, at the hearts of her poets.
Among his first converts was the chief poet, Dubthach, the Laureate of
the nation. And now new songs were pouring forth from their lips. Their
harps were strung to the heavenly music, so that from the beginning, for
Ireland, the harp became the symbol at once of patriotism and faith.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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