The Holy Isle: A Legend of Bardsey Abbey

The Holy Isle: A Legend of Bardsey Abbey

I watched the sea waves ebbing, Beneath the crimson glow, Which sunset light was pouring, Upon their soft, sweet flow. The wavelets looked liked dancers, Upon the sun-lit sea, They sung in whispering chorus, I thought they sung to me Of fair and far off landscapes Beyond that molten tide, Of better joys, and gladness Beyond those waters wide. p. 2The wavelets all seemed passing On, to some other strands, And following the suns-glow, To ever sun-lit lands. But as I thought these fancies, Again I raised mine eyes And saw the sunset tinting The glorious western skies. Now mid the farewell glories Of Sols departing ray, I saw an Island resting Upon his golden way. There, misty mid the Sunshine, The far off Isle appears, Right out among the sea waves Its rocky coast uprears. And as I gaze, the sunset Seems lighting up its shore, Bathing the isle in glory And then is seen no more. p. 3Sweet, soothing calm fell oer me I watched the Islet still, All round me heard I voices Which seemed the air to fill. Said one, That Isle is holy, For Saints are sleeping there, Now lonely and deserted, Twas once an Isle of prayer. O Man! say wouldst thou tremble, To come away and see, In vision, strange, sweet pictures Which I can shew to thee? The Angel was so lovely, So sweet the Angels smile, I easily consented, He pointed to the Isle! Then will I bear thee thither, One thousand years ago; I speak to aid thy weakness, No time can Angels know. p. 4The present, past, and future, All one they are to me, I pass along their boundaries, Unlimited, and free. A strange, calm change stole oer me, My spirit seemed to rise In gentle, tireless motion, Just as the sea-bird flies. My Angel-guide was leading My spirit oer the sea One momentand we rested, Upon the Islets lea. Soft gloaming filled the air, Deep peace lay all around, Hushed voices seemed to whisper, A wavelike, murmuring sound. Sweet Angel, say, where am I, Say me the Islands name, And tell me why such glory, Enwraps it as a flame? p. 5Say, too, what is that chanting, So sweet, so very near, The strangeness of this beauty It fills my soul with fear? This Holy Place is Bardsey, Jesus, He loves it well, Tis wrapped in Gods own brightness, Safe from the power of Hell. Those voices are the Virgins, In yonder Abbey Choir, Praises to Jesus singing, Of which they never tire. Hush! mid the shades of evening, How restfully they sing, Their Vesper praise-wreaths bringing To Jesus Christ their King. Mid lights of sunset glowing, St. Marys Abbey stands; But see! tis wrapped in glories, From far off better Lands. p. 6I looked again, and started, For lo! another scene. The Convent is surrounded With Heavens own brightest sheen. And choirs of Angels hover High in the sunset air, While th holy monks are chanting Their peaceful, evening prayer. The Monastery is glowing, Like heaps of molten gold; The walls seem all transparent, With majesty untold. Tis strange; my spirit enters St Marys Sacred Shrine, I see the cowld figures, In many a white robd line, [6] p. 7Filling the stalls, but facing The hallowd Altar Throne, Where Jesus makes His dwelling, Untended and alone. O peaceful, happy Bardsey, Sweet Islet of the Sea! I would for ever rest me, All joyfully in thee! O dear St. Marys Abbey, On Bardseys northern shore; Would I could bide within thee, And part from thee no more! O happy Monks and Virgins, Singing by night and day, Your hymnals to Sweet Jesus, In dearest, fondest lay! How can I speak your glory, How can I tell your worth? Ye are the Churchs safeguard; Ye are the Salt of earth. p. 8Ye live the life of Angels; Ye never cease from praise, To Heaven your intercedings For sinners ceaseless raise. Ah! well may throngs of sinners Seek this most Sacred Isle, Well may ten thousand pilgrims Visit St. Marys pile. Well mayst thou, Aberdaron, [8] Loving to Bardsey be, And daily turn thy glances To the Islet out at sea. For Bardsey is the lighthouse Of many a shipwrecked soul; To many a way-worn wanderer Is Bardseys Isle the goal. p. 9The glow of Bardseys brightness, Illumes wild Cambrias shores, Across the Irish Channel, Her Heavenly light she pours. And blessed saints in thousands Have dwelt on Bardseys hill, Sending her countless Virgins Celestial choirs to fill. How Jesus must love Bardsey, And prize her sacred soil; Here Saints in countless numbers Have rested from earths toil: Have laid aside the burden Of poor mortality, And entered on the Sabbath Of glad eternity. While thus I dream, the Organ Is pealing forth its wave, The Holy Monks are marching All slowly down the Nave. p. 10Dear Angel! may I follow Them, down the Cloister still, And join their recreation, On yonder mossy hill? The Angel smiled permission; I willed myself along, Until unseen, I joined me To th happy, Virgin throng. Here, there were boys most lovely; And there, old hoary men; And youths, and those of mid-age; Here joyous boys again. I followed one young novice, Who held an old mans hand; I listened,they were speaking, Of some dear, distant Land. The boy I saw was pointing Away, right out to sea, Where moonlight made a pathway, Of silver radiancy. p. 11The silver way seemed joining Together sea and sky, The stars seemed trembling oer it, Like lightlets from on high. Dear Father Cadfan, look now, Said the bright and lovely boy, Im sure that silver roadway Leads to our Home of Joy. No, no, my Son, tis only An emblem of the way, Across times changing storm-tide, To regions of the day. And then the old man turning, Towards Cambrias rock bound shore, Pointed the boy to Barmouth, [11] But then called Abermawr. p. 12My son, said he, tis yonder, Long years ago I tried To bring poor souls to Jesus, Who once for sinners died. But there the Druids held them In errors iron chain, [12a] They would not hear of Jesus, And drove me thence again. Yet though at Abermawr I failed Mid Towyns marshes drear, [12b] The people bowed before the Cross, And sought the Saviour dear. My son, one day thou must away, If Father Abbot wills, And build a Shrine to Christ Divine, Mid Barmouths rocky hills. p. 13The idols which they worship Thou boldly must destroy, Promise old Father Cadfan this, My brave, my darling boy! The boys bright eyes were flashing, He grasped the old mans hand, Father, I will preach Jesus Upon that darkened strand. Only, my father, pray for me, When thou hast past the sea, And reignest with our Jesus, In the kingdom of the free. St. Cadfan smiled, and blessed the lad, His hearts desire seemed gained, From idol worship for the Lord Should Abermawr be claimed. The Compline Bell tolled solemnly From out St. Marys Tower, Calling the Monks to worship At days last hallowed hour. p. 14Dubritius, [14] the novice boy, Stood meekly in his stall, The fathers and the novices Chanted the Office all. But Father Cadfan was not there, Calmly his body lay; Upon the mound by Bardsey Sound, His spirit passed away. His work was done, his prize was won, The holy Monk was gone, To join the virgin song notes, Before th Eternal Throne. ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 49306
Author: Ignatius, Father
Release Date: Jun 28, 2015
Format: eBook
Language: English