Triumph of Faith

Low is Tara's tower
Closed its sovran story —
Crowds with wisdom dower
Ardmagh's growing glory.

Lofty Laere's splendour
Has, alas, gone under, —
Patrick's name, more tender,
Glows, a great world-wonder.

Faith has flow'red and flourished,
This shall fail us never,
Raths which Gentiles nourished
Now are empty ever.

Gone Rath Cruachain from us
Aillil's fame — a pity!
See in sov'reign promise
Cluain's excelling city.

Hark the chantings choral
Rise round Ciaran glorious,
Clonmicnois its carol
Rolls in rime victorious.

Never shall it perish —
God's love, night or morrow,
This cheer if you cherish
Shamed shall be all sorrow.

Aillin high and hoary
With its hosts is shrouded, —
Great is Brigit's glory,
Fair her city crowded.

Ruins strew the region
Once Emania's palace, —
Rome revives its legion
In Glenlocha's valleys.

Like a lamp of light is
Ferna great and glowing,
Lost in clouded night is
All the host of Eoghan.

Haughty heathen cities,
Built for everlasting,
Fall, and no one pities,
Like to Lugai's wasting.

Pagan power is over,
False its fair devotion;
God rules, Lord and Lover,
Earth and sky and ocean!

Doncad, dread in danger,
Bran, in battle bravest,
Seek their graves, O stranger!
Vainly help thou cravest.

Maelruain, nothing warlike,
Served with faith and feeling, —
At his tomb, the Star-like
Every heart has healing.

Just the Judge is, truly,
When his rule's regarded:
Foes are punished duly,
Friends, at last, rewarded.

Gone the despots; gory
Kings have downward drifted,
Ciarans rise to glory —
Cronans are uplifted.

Sunk the summits olden,
Hewn by swords asunder:
Raised the glens, as golden
Peaks above the thunder!