Chapter III

“As Columba, old and ill,
Mounted on the sacred hill,
Raising hands of faith and prayer,
Breathed his benediction there--

Stricken with its solemn grace--
Thus my spirit blessed the place:

O’er it while the ages range,
Time be blind and work no change!

On its plenty be increase!
On its homes perpetual peace!

While around its lonely shore
Wild winds rave and breakers roar,

Round its blazing hearths be blent
Virtue, comfort, and content!

On its beauty, passing all,
Ne’er may blight nor shadow fall!

Ne’er may vandal foot intrude
On its sacred solitude!

May its ancient fame remain
Glorious, and without a stain;

And the hope that ne’er departs,
Live within its loving hearts!