Columba's heart ever yearned to Derry. In one of his poems he tells us "how my boat would fly if its prow were turned to my Irish oak grove." And one day when "that grey eye, which ever turned to Erin," was gazing wistfully at the horizon, where Ireland ought to appear, his love for Derry found expression in a little poem, the English version of which I transcribed from Cardinal Moran's "Irish Saints." "Were the tribute of all Alba mine, From its centre to its border, I would prefer the sight of one cell In the middle of fair Derry. "The reason I love Derry is For its quietness, for its purity; Crowded full of heaven's angels, Is every leaf of the oaks of Derry. "My Derry, my little oak grove, My abode and my little cell, O eternal God in heaven above, Woe be to him who violates it." With the same love that he himself had for his "little oak grove," he seems to have inspired the annalists of his race, for on turning over the pages of the Four Masters, the eye is arrested by such entries as,-- "1146, a violent tempest blew down sixty oaks in Derry-Columbkille." "1178, a storm prostrated one hundred and twenty oaks in Derry-Columbkille." * * * * * These little tokens of reverence for the trees, which had been sanctified by his presence and love, show us how deep a root his memory had in the affections of the Donegal Franciscans, when they paused in their serious and compendious work to record every little accident that happened to his monastery. But, alas, all the protection that O'Donnell's clan might afford, all the fear that Columba's "Woe" might inspire, could not save his grove. Like many a similar one in Ireland, storms, and the destructive hand of man, have combined to blot it off the face of the landscape, and nothing now remains but the name. The monastery, too, shared the same fate. Burned by the Danes in 812, 989, 997 and 1095, phoenix-like it rose again from its ashes, each time in greater beauty. The church, after one of these burnings, was rebuilt of stone; and from its charred and blackened appearance after the next burning, received the name of Dubh-Regles or Black Church of the Abbey--a name by which in the Annals the monastery itself is often called.