On Ængus the Culdee

Delightful here at Disert Bethel,
By cold, pure Nore at peace to rest,
Where noisy raids have never sullied
The beechen forest's virgin vest.

For here the Angel Host would visit
Of yore with Ængus, Oivlen's son,
As in his cross-ringed cell he lauded
The One in Three, the Three in One.

To death he passed upon a Friday,
The day they slew our Blessed Lord.
Here stands his tomb; unto the Assembly
Of Holy Heaven his soul has soared.

'Twas in Cloneagh he had his rearing;
'Tis in Cloneagh he now lies dead,
'Twas in Cloneagh of many crosses
That first his psalms he read.