Brendan was confirmed in his resolution to seek the Blessed Islands by a strange tale told by Barinthus, a monk from the neighbourhood, whose church of Kilbarron is not far from Tralee. One of the monks of Barinthus, Mernoc by name, had fled from his monastery in search of a desert in the ocean. Barinthus followed after him, and at length found him in the island called the 'Delicious,' from which they sailed further west, and came to the Land of Promise of the Saints--a beauteous land of light beyond the clouds and mists of the western sea, covered with verdant glades and flowery fields. But an angel told them to return home again, that this land of light and beauty was not yet to be revealed to men. Then Brendan's heart was filled with only one thought to find out for himself this 'Land of Promise,' if haply it were God's high will. So with his monks he fasted forty days, and then choosing fourteen of their number he made ready for the adventurous voyage. Even the great St. Enda of Aran commended Brendan's purpose, and foretold that God would bring his enterprise to a happy issue. So they built themselves a large currach with ribs and frame of willow, but covered with hides, and taking with them oars and sails, and provisions for forty days they set out upon the trackless sea steering for the "Summer solstice." It is not our intention at present to follow Brendan and his monks in their wanderings through the Atlantic. For seven years they sailed from island unto island in the Atlantic main, seeing many marvels by land and sea, following God's guidance, fed by His Providence, and protected by His power. At length, it is said, they reached the Continent of America, and found the place where they landed to be indeed a delicious country abounding in everything to gratify the palate and please the eye-- "The wind had died upon the ocean's breast, When like a silvery vein through the dark ore, A smooth bright current gliding to the west, Bore our light bark to that enchanted shore. It was a lovely plain--spacious and fair, And blessed with all delights that earth can hold, Celestial odours filled the fragrant air, That breathed around that green and pleasant wold. "There may not rage of frost, nor snow, nor rain Injure the smallest and most delicate flower; Nor fall of hail wound the fair healthful plain, Nor the warm weather, nor the winter's shower. That noble land is all with blossoms flowered, Shed by the summer breezes as they pass; Less leaves than blossoms on the trees are showered, And flowers grow thicker in the fields than grass. "We were about to cross its placid tide When lo! an angel on our vision broke, Clothed in white upon the further side; He stood majestic, and thus sweetly spoke-- 'Father, return, thy mission now is o'er, God who did bring thee here, now bids thee go, Return in peace unto thy native shore, And tell the mighty secrets thou dost know.'"