Page:Poems by Cushag.djvu/65

63 Then John the Priest stretched forth his hands
 * And blessed the rising sun,

And blessed the simple folk around,
 * And taught them one by one.

No book nor scrip could there be found;
 * But on rough slabs of rock

He cut and graved as best he might
 * The lessons for his flock.

And that himself should ne'er forget
 * His vision in the vale,

He carved—"Of all the sheep is John
 * The Priest in Corna dale."

Far on the slopes of old Barrule
 * Lone lies the ruined Keeil,

And there the words of John the Priest
 * In Runes are living still.