Burial at Iona. SLOW and silent o'er the ocean, Lonely, lonely 'mid the blue waves When the cloister bell was tolling 'Twas but answered by the rolling Round the hillside dark and hoary, Each gray cross upreared its head, Marking out the Straide na marabh, The wild footpath of the dead. And upon the lonely sea-beach And the funeral psalms were chanted Then the shrouded corpse was carried, And right duteously laid down, Till the pious prayers were over, By St Martin's Cross of stone. In the grave all duly hallowed, In the arms of the Atlantic, Cradled 'mid the ocean billows, Sung to rest by prayer and hymn, And o'erwatched by angel guardians Of those ancient cloisters dim. No need for him to tremble, Though ills foretold might be ; And though the distant lands around Should sink beneath the sea. For still Columba's blessing shields Iona of his love; And o'er the flood its towers shall rise,* Oh! ye dead of Inishona, I would turn aside a while I would rest my heart aweary Might I sleep for evermore ! "The green clad Isla, too, shall sink, Black's Picturesque Tourist of Scotland, p. 472. The Haddock. FAR in the depths of the dark blue waves, Swimming and darting so free, 'Mid the coral vaults of the ocean caves, Merry a fish's life must be ! Down where the tempered sunbeams steal, To its pure sands of gold, Where the dark sea palms no depths reveal Of their shadowy groves so cold. The sea is at times like a sapphire bright, Fair is the whiting with pearly tail, Yet best do I love the haddock still, And glancing away through the crystal waves, A blessing it bears for the mark it wears, If e'en on a humble fish's skin, A holier stamp, thy soul within, Hath thy Christian baptism made. Then bear it on, through life's stormy sea: And bright will it shine eternally, As a glory around thy brow. |