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 man’s 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.
The silver way seemed joining
   Together sea and sky,
The stars seemed trembling o’er it,
   Like lightlets from on high.
“Dear Father Cadfan, look now,”
   —Said the bright and lovely boy,—
“I’m sure that silver roadway
   Leads to our Home of Joy.”
“No, no, my Son, t’is only
   An emblem of the way,
Across time’s changing storm-tide,
   To regions of the day.”
And then the old man turning,
   Towards Cambria’s rock bound shore,
Pointed the boy to Barmouth, [11]
   But then called Abermawr.
“My 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 error’s iron chain, [12a]
They would not hear of Jesus,
   And drove me thence again.
Yet though at Abermawr I failed
   ’Mid Towyn’s 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 Barmouth’s rocky hills.
The idols which they worship
   Thou boldly must destroy,
Promise old Father Cadfan this,
   My brave, my darling boy!”
The boy’s bright eyes were flashing,
   He grasped the old man’s 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 heart’s desire seemed gained,
From idol worship for the Lord
   Should Abermawr be claimed.
The Compline Bell tolled solemnly
   From out St. Mary’s Tower,
Calling the Monks to worship
   At day’s last hallowed hour.
Dubritius, [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.

* * * * *

The boy, so beautiful and pure,
   Grew up to manhood’s bloom,
And ofttimes visited for prayer
   The Blessed Cadfan’s Tomb.
One night the sun was sinking
   Behind the Western wave,
Dubritius was kneeling
   Beside St. Cadfan’s grave.
The Compline chants were over,
   The twilight almost gone,
The youth was startled by a voice
   Which cried—“My son! my son!”
A gentle light shone round the grave,
   He raised his eyes, and lo!
St. Cadfan stood beside him,
   Amid the weird-like glow;
“My son, make haste, thy solemn vows
   Thou speedily must make,
Then to the men of Abermawr
   The Cross of Jesus take.
The Banner and the Gospel,
   With holy Chant and Psalm,
Straight to the Druid’s Temple go,
   Nor fear, nor feel alarm.
For Jesus must be Cambria’s God,
   The night must hie away,
Thyself must be the harbinger
   Of Everlasting Day.”
The youth sprung forward to embrace
   The friend he loved so well,
But he was gone; no sound was heard,
   Save the lone ocean’s swell.

* * * * *

How beautiful! how beautiful!
   Is now the Convent Choir;
All deck’d for some high festival
   In exquisite attire.
Most precious gems are gleaming
   Upon the frontal fair,
The Mass Priests too are vested
   In garments passing rare.
The sacred tapers glisten
   The Altar all along;
The holy Monks are chanting
   Some sweet—some wedding song!
And tall white lilies, scenting
   The Incense laden air,
Are bending down their petals,
   T’wards a novice bow’d in prayer.
Yes! there before the Altar,
   I see Dubritius bow,
Pure as the virgin lilies,
   Encircling his fair brow.
His vows are said—the Cowl is given,
   His live-long promise made;
All earthly loves are buried now,
   Within the Cloister’s shade.

* * * * *

“Unfurl the sail! unloose the chain!
   That links us to the shore—
To our own precious Island home
   Which we may see no more!”
Thus spake Dubritius; and the tide
   Fast wafted him away,
Out t’wards the rocky Cambrian coast
   Of Cardigan’s fair bay.
The sea was calmly resting,
   Lit by the summer’s sun;
In three short hours the Convent boat
   Her little voyage had run.
Dubritius and his monkish band
   At once pursued their way,
Reaching the town of Abermawr
   Just at the close of day.
The evening’s hush was resting
   So peacefully around,
Alone was heard the shrill sea bird,
   And the waves’ soft murmuring sound.
When all at once through th’ restful air,
   Dread shrieks of anguish rung
From the idol temple near the town,
   While Druid choirs sung
Fierce hymns to their false savage gods,
   Around the kindling flame,
Prepared for sacrificial rites,
   Too terrible to name.
A fair young mother brings her babe,
   A warrior brings his boy,
The Druids bind their victims
   With fierce, fanatic joy!
The weeping mother hears the wail
   Well from her darling’s breast;
The father sees the Druids bind
   His boy with savage zest.
The lad was fair to look upon,
   Ah! must he really die,
Oh! shall such sacrifice pollute
   That calm blue evening sky?
The boy, though brave, is trembling now,
   He nears the