Page:Poems by Cushag.djvu/63

61 OHN the Priest of Corna dale
 * Late crowned with scholar's bays;

Now sent to teach a rustic flock,
 * Had cursed his dreary days.

Far on the slopes of North Barrule
 * The Corna valley lies;

And far remote the lonely keeil
 * That seems so near the skies.

So few and simple were the folk
 * And scattered through the vale—

What honour should a scholar find
 * In savage Corna dale?

Now John the Priest he laid him down
 * Upon his pallet bare;

And John he heard or dreamed he heard
 * Soft voices in the air.

"Glory to God" they sang once more
 * As heralds from on high;

And John he rose or dreamed he rose,
 * But nought could he espy.