Dallan Forgaill, in the ancient tract called the _Amra Choluimchille_, speaks of him in the same strain. He describes his people mourning him who was ‘their souls’ light, their learned one—their chief from right—who was God’s messenger—who dispelled fears from them—who used to explain the truth of words—a harp without a base chord;—a perfect sage who believed Christ—he was learned, he was chaste—he was charitable—he was an abounding benefit of guests—he was eager—he was noble—he was gentle—he was the physician of the heart of every sage—he was to persons inscrutable—he was a shelter to the naked—he was a consolation to the poor;—there went not from the world one who was more continual for the remembrance of the cross.’[287] There is no trace here of those darker features of vindictiveness, love of fighting, and the remorse caused by its indulgence; nor do the events of his life, as we find them rather hinted at than narrated, bear out such an estimate of it. He was evidently a man of great force of character and determined zeal in effecting his purpose—one of those master-minds which influence and sway others by the mere force of contact; but he could not have been the object of such tender love and implicit devotion from all who came under the sphere of his influence, if the softer and more amiable features pictured in these earlier descriptions of him had not predominated in his character. Three peculiarities he had, which led afterwards to a belief in his miraculous powers. One was his sonorous voice. Dallan Forgaill tells us The sound of his voice, Columcille’s, Great its sweetness above every company; To the end of fifteen hundred paces— Vast courses—it was clear.[288]