Now the angel who guarded the Eden gate Had pity in thinking on Adam's fate, And sent him three servants, for earth, air and sea, The sheep, and the fish, and the wise little bee. And thus it has happened that some people know More than the rest of us here below. There was jealousy, bitterness, wrath and fear Among these reverend brethren here, With their leather and parchment and metal and stone, And the seeds of dissension were freely sown-- Only Sebastian, Gildas and John In their work appointed went placidly on. The Abbot considered his turbulent flock, And he saw the wicked beginning to mock, And he gathered the craftsmen about him, to see Why there was peace with the other three. They found Brother John by his bee-skeps brown Watching his bees in their elfin town. “Little folk, little folk all a-wing, More honey is yours when ye do not sting, And that is a very sensible thing,” Said Brother John to the bees. They found Brother Gildas a-fishing for trout, Oblivious that any one was about. “Finny folk, finny folk, deep in the fen, There's a bait for each fish if we only know when,-- And that is the way to fish for men,” Said Brother Gildas to the fishes. They found on the moorland bleak and cold Brother Sebastian, far from the fold. “Sheep of my sheepfold, by night and by day I seek ye untiring wherever ye stray,-- For thus ye have taught me the Master's own way,” Said Brother Sebastian the shepherd. And the brethren were silent. Each prayed in his heart That in all of his doings in craft or in art He might give God the glory. Since Adam's fall The workman is nothing, the work is all. There was peace in the cloisters. The Abbot that night Gave thanks that his children had found the light. IV PADRAIG OF THE SCRIPTORIUM Padraig sat on the side of the hill where the Good People were said to dance rings in the turf, his chin on his folded arms, his, arms resting on his drawnup knees--thinking. He might have been taken for a sheogue himself had any one been there to see. His hair was like a red flame, and his eyes were blue as the sky; his arms and legs were as brown as his young, sharp face, and he wore but one garment, a goatskin tunic. He could run like a hare and climb like a squirrel and swim like a salmon, for he had lived like a savage all his life, among the Irish hills.