The hallowed Light the Druid bore Through darkness to our lonely Isle. Locked in his heart his cryptic lore Beneath the ruined altar-pile Was quenched in dust. ’Mid Uladh’s hills 5 A clearer ray the Herdsman-Slave Allured, as by the limpid rills He mused above the Pagan’s grave, Or, standing on the mountain-scaur, Beheld the Angel of his Dream 10 Through sunlit flying storms afar Fade into heaven, a phantom gleam. His holier fire with sleepless hand, By shadowed lake, in sheltering woods, The Saints, while blood embathed their land, 15 Preserved amid its solitudes; Or often from their silence rose, And, strong in selfless ardour, sought The Saxon heaths, the Alpine snows, To preach the gentle rede the Celtic Herdsman taught. 20 I. 2. The rugged Chief in richer cell The cresset hung by field or foam, Where hermit pure in peace might dwell, The exiled sage forget his home. On islets of the inland seas, 25 On stormy cape, in valley lone, Or folded deep in verdant leas, The scattered haunts of Learning shone. But ev’n the Norman’s victor palm, By carven arch or soaring spire, 30 Could ill secure the cloistral calm, And feebly guard the living fire. What larger flame De Bicknor fed The royal Edwards fanned in vain. The lamp in Drogheda’s dimness dead 35 Not Sidney’s touch revived again. And nowhere towered the sovereign shrine, The central altar’s temple wide, Till Loftus waved a wand divine, And here by Edar’s Firth it rose in radiant pride. 40 I. 3.