Page:Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry - Meyer.djvu/52

 THE HERMIT'S SONG

I wish, O Son of the living God, O ancient, eternal
 * King,

For a hidden little hut in the wilderness that it
 * may be my dwelling.

An all-grey lithe little lark to be by its side, A clear pool to wash away sins through the grace
 * of the Holy Spirit.

Quite near, a beautiful wood around it on every
 * side,

To nurse many-voiced birds, hiding it with its
 * shelter.

A southern aspect for warmth, a little brook across
 * its floor,

A choice land with many gracious gifts such as be
 * good for every plant.

A few men of sense—we will tell their number— Humble and obedient, to pray to the King:—

Four times three, three times four, fit for every need, Twice six in the church, both north and south:—

Six pairs besides myself, Praying for ever the King who makes the sun
 * shine.

A pleasant church and with the linen altar-cloth,
 * a dwelling for God from Heaven;

Then, shining candles above the pure white
 * Scriptures.

One house for all to go to for the care of the body, Without ribaldry, without boasting, without
 * thought of evil.