In the unknown land of my sojourn of sadness and distress, Alas, the voyage that was enjoined me, O King of secrets, For having gone myself to the battle of Cuil. How happy the son of Dima of the devout church When he hears in Durrow the desire of his mind The sound of the wind against the elms when ’tis played, The blackbird’s joyous note when he claps his wings, To listen at early dawn in Ros-grencha to the cattle, The cooing of the cuckoo from the tree on the brink of summer, Three objects I have left, the dearest to me on this peopled world, Durrow, Derry, the noble angelic land, and Tir-Luighdech, I have loved Erin’s land of cascades, all but its government. My visit to Comgall and feast with Cainnech was indeed delightful. Of his Latin hymns only three remain. They are preserved in the _Liber Hymnorum_, a MS. probably of the end of the eleventh century, and are known as the “Altus,” “In te Christo,” and “Noli Pater.” No doubt exists as to the genuineness of the “Altus.” It is the most famous of the three, and is supposed to have been written after the battle of Cooldrevna. The poem takes its name from the first word, and each of its twenty-two stanzas begins in order with a letter of the alphabet, probably as a help to the memory. The stanzas are rudely constructed, with a kind of rhyme between every two lines. The poem has enjoyed a great reputation, and has been variously rendered into English. Perhaps the best translation is that of the Rev. Anthony Mitchell:— Ancient of Days; enthroned on high; The Father unbegotten He, Whom space containeth not nor time, Who was and is and aye shall be; And one-born Son and Holy Ghost, Who co-eternal glory share. One only God of Persons Three We praise, acknowledge and declare. Attention has been directed by Dr. Dowden, Bishop of Edinburgh, to the saint’s curious conceptions of the physical causes of clouds, and rain, and tides, in the stanza beginning with I:— In the three quarters of the sea, Three mighty fountains hidden lie, Whence rise through whirling water-spouts, Rich-laden clouds that clothe the sky: On winds from out his treasure house, They speed to swell bud, vine, and grain; While the sea-shallows emptied wait Until the tides return again. In the R stanza we have a picture of the judgment not unlike the “Dies Iræ”:—