The Legends of Oisin, Bard of Erin [pp. 320-322]

The Legends of Oisin, Bard of Erin.
THE LEGENDS OF OISIN, BARD OF ERIN.
BY, AUBREY DE VERE.
VI.
OISIN'S GOOD CONFESSION.
NOT seldom, crossed by bodings sad,
In words though kind yet hard
Spake Patrick to his guest, Oisin;
For Patrick loved the Bard
In whose broad bosom, swathed with beard
Like cliffs with ivy trailed,
A Christian strove with a pagan soul,
And neither quite prevailed.
Silent as shades the shadowing monks
O'er cloistral courts might glide;
But the War-Bard strode through the church itself
Like hunter on mountain-side.
Yea, sometimes, while his beads he told,
Fierce thoughts, a rebel breed,
Burst up from the graves of his warriors dead,
And he stormed at priest and Creed.
His end drew nigh.'Twas after years
Had proved stern warnings vain,
When dying he lay on his wolf-skin bed,
And murmured a warlike strain.
The Saint drew near: he gazed; then spake,
"A fair child died one day:
Four weeks had passed; yet, changeless still,
Like a child asleep he lay.
320