Then the fly that was upon the wall flew up to the roof and circled to and fro. And it sang a beautiful song, and its song was this: Praise be to God, and a blessing too at that, and a blessing! For Colum the White, Colum the Dove, hath worshipped; Yea, he hath worshipped and made of a desert a garden, And out of the dung of men's souls have made a sweet savour of burning. A savour of burning, most sweet, a fire for the altar, This he hath made in the desert; the hell-saved all gladden. Sure he hath put his benison, too, on milch-cow and bullock, On the fowls of the air, and the man-eyed seals, and the otter. But high in His Dûn in the great blue mainland of heaven, God the All-Father broodeth, where the harpers are harping His glory: There where He sitteth, where a river of ale poureth ever, His great sword broken, His spear in the dust, He broodeth. And this is the thought that moves in his brain, as a cloud filled with thunder Moves through the vast hollow sky filled with the dust of the stars-- "What boots it the glory of Colum, when he maketh a Sabbath to bless me, And hath no thought of my sons in the deeps of the air and the sea?" And with that the fly passed from their vision. In the cell was a most wondrous sweet song, like the sound of far-off pipes over water. Oran said in a low voice of awe, "O God, our God!" Keir whispered, white with fear, "O God, my God!" But Colum rose, and took a scourge from where it hung on the wall. "It shall be for peace, Oran," he said, with a grim smile flitting like a bird above the nest of his grey beard; "it shall be for peace, Keir!" And with that he laid the scourge heavily upon the bent backs of Keir and Oran, nor stayed his hand, nor let his three days' fast weaken the deep piety that was in the might of his arm, and because of the glory of God. Then, when he was weary, peace came into his heart, and he sighed "_Amen_!" "Amen!" said Oran the monk. "Amen!" said Keir the monk. "And this thing has been done," said Colum, "because of your evil wish and the brethren, that I should break my fast, and eat of fish, till God will it. And lo, I have learned a mystery. Ye shall all witness to it on the morrow, which is the Sabbath." That night the monks wondered much. Only Oran and Keir cursed the fishes in the deeps of the sea and the flies in the deeps of the air. On the morrow, when the sun was yellow on the brown seaweed, and there was peace on the isle and upon the waters, Colum and the brotherhood went slowly towards the sea. At the meadows that are close to the sea, the saint stood still. All bowed their heads. "O winged things of the air," cried Colum, "draw near!" With that the air was full of the hum of innumerous flies, midges, bees, wasps, moths, and all winged insects. These settled upon the monks, who moved not, but praised God in silence.