dreadful fire,
He feels its scorch, yet gives his life,
   To still the idol’s ire.
The father’s cheek grows blanched and pale,
   The poor young mother stands,
Yearning to snatch her precious one
   From the stern Druid’s hands.
High leaps the flame, loud swells the song,
   From the Druids’ choirs around;
But suddenly the evening wind
   Fills with another sound!
’Tis “Miserere Domine,”
   Sung by the Monkish train,
“Exurgat Deus Dominus,” [20]
   A grand and glorious strain!
With Crucifix and banner bright,
   The bold brave monks appear;
And then among the heathen crowd,
   Christ’s mighty Cross they rear.
“Cease, cease, ye sons of wickedness,
   This useless wicked rite;
The God of Heaven has sent me here,
   Of Majesty and Might!”
Dubritius spoke, and seized the boy
   Straight from the altar’s side;
And caught the infant from the flame,
   Or ere the darling died!
While this was done, some novices
   Had hurl’d the idol down;
“Jesus is God!” the Monks proclaim,
   “Your King with homage crown!
Ye Druids move not, or we call
   God’s Angels to our aid.
The hour has come.  By Abermawr
   Worship must now be paid
To Jesus Christ, and Him alone,
   Crown Him ye people all;
He bought you with His Precious Blood,
   Prostrate before Him fall!”
Dubritius, with mighty power,
   Told of the love so free,
That made God Man to die to save,
   And bring true liberty.
God gave the Monks the victory,
   The power of Jesus’ Name
Prevailed among those savage hearts,
   Put out the cruel flame;
Rescued the boy, and snatched the babe
   From that dread altar’s side;
Plunged them in gentle mercy’s stream,
   The blest Baptismal tide.
The days and weeks passed swiftly,
   New converts owned the Lord,
Ere long, all Abermawr became
   Obedient to the Word.

* * * * *

Seventy long years had flown away,
   See! Aberdaron weeps;
Forth from her Church beside the shore, [23a]
   A long procession sweeps.
See crowds of pilgrims waiting
   From all Carnarvon round,
The hushing of the sea roar,
   To cross the dangerous sound. [23b]
The Church at Aberdaron
   Is wet with mourners’ tears;
Dubritius has entered
   Upon the Eternal years.
His body rests so calmly
   Before the Altar high,
The Priests are softly wailing
   The mournful Requiem’s sigh.
Upon the Altar glisten
   The waxen tapers tall,
And summer flowers are lying
   Upon the snow-white pall.
Sweet Incense clouds are rising
   Around the hallowed bier;
From many an eye is falling
   The sad, the loving tear.
Dubritius left Bardsey,
   His lov’d—his peaceful home,
For fifty years mid war-strife,
   This valiant Saint did roam.
But now, in peace, he cometh,
   In Bardsey’s Isle to rest,
His spirit calmly dwelling
   In regions of the blest.
Lower your crest, ye foam waves,
   Wail adverse winds no more,
Dubritius must pass over
   To Bardsey’s sainted shore.
’Tis evening, and the sun glow
   Is lighting up the sea:
The tiny waves are dancing,
   For merriment and glee.
They bore Dubritius to toil,
   To the fight at Abermawr,
And now they sing his lullaby,
   And hush their noisy roar.
The boats are filling quickly
   At Aberdaron’s quay,
The Bardsey bells are pealing,
   Across the crimson sea.
The Aberdaron Canons [25]
   Are chanting their sweet Psalm,
The blessed Saint is passing
   Across those waters calm.
The Bay of Aberdaron
   Seems full of peace and life,
Dubritius the Warrior,
   As victor from the strife,
Is coming full of glory,
   To his Island Home again;
The welcome bells are ringing,
   Athwart the calm blue main.
Hark! how the chant is rising
   From a hundred boats and mo’,
Mingling its soft sweet requiem,
   With the murmuring wavelet’s flow.
And now the fleet of mourners
   Reaches the haven still,
And th’ Monks’ slow, sad procession
   Is winding down the hill.
The sacred banners waving,
   In th’ restful evening air,
Borne by some weeping novices,
   Wrought in devices rare.
And Incense-clouds ascending,
   And many a taper’s light,
Burst on the pilgrims’ vision,
   A fair and holy sight.
“Requiem æternam,”
   The aged Abbot sings;
“Dona ei Domine,”
   The loud response-note rings.
He comes! he comes! the victor!
   We’ll welcome him with song;
Another Saint now perfect,
   To Bardsey doth belong!
The dread Pelagian heresy
   He trampled from our land, [27]
And drove the Druid’s tyranny
   From Cambria’s noble strand.
He joined his Alleluia
   With countless thousands more,
And drove the heathen foemen,
   The Holy Cross before.
“Now that thou reign’st with Jesus,
   A glorious Saint above,
O pray, dear St. Dubritius,
   For the island of thy love!”
The Abbey Church was glistening
   With incense, lights, and gold,
The organ’s peal of welcome,
   Through aisle and choir rolled.
The hooded Monks are bearing
   Slowly the bier along,
The choristers are chanting
   A glad triumphant song.
      “Rest for thy toil is o’er,
      The battle’s shout no more
      Shall break thy spirit’s calm,
      Or mar thy peaceful Psalm;
      Of praise to Christ the King,
      Whose beauty thou shalt sing,
      Throughout the ages long,
      In one unbroken song.
      For ever, and for aye,
      In everlasting Day.”

* * * * *

The lichens and the ivy
   Are creeping up the wall,
And