VI.

The shrines of Meath are fair and far, White-winged one! not too far for thee-- Emania, shining like a star, (Bright brooch on Erin's breast you are!) [Footnote 22] That I am never more to see.

[Footnote 22: It is said that Macha, the queen, traced out the site of the royal rath of Emania, near Armagh, with the pin of her golden brooch. _See Mrs. Ferguson's "Ireland before the Conquest,"_ for this and other interesting Celtic legends.]

You'll see the homes of holy men Far west upon the shoreless main-- In sheltered vale, on cloudy Ben, Where saints still pray, and scribes still pen The sacred page, despising gain!

Above the crofts of virgin saints. There pause, my dove, and rest thy wing. But tell them not our sad complaints! For if they dreamt our spirit faints There would be fruitless sorrowing.

Perch as you pass amid their trees, At noon or eve, my travelled dove. And blend with voices of their bees In croft, or school, or on their knees-- They'll bind you with their hymns of love!

Be thou to them, O dove! where'er The men or women saints are found. My hyssop flying through the air; My seven-fold benedictions bear-- To them, and all on Irish ground.