THE ISLAND OF IONA.
[St. Columba, though a priest, had joined in an Irish battle. The penance imposed on him was perpetual exile from Ireland. He made Iona his abode till death, preaching on the adjacent shores. Montalembert affirms that later his Irish monks converted nearly three-quarters of Anglo-Saxon England.]
NOT for the tombs of old Norwegian Kings
Or Scottish, iron-mailed, and crowned at Scone ; Not for those " Island-Lords "* the Minstrel sings • The "Lords of t to Isles."
As sang his sires in centuries past and flown; Not for yon grassy terrace breeze-o'erblown, Yon crags to which the storm-'rocked shepherd clings Eyeing far lights on isle and mountain thrown As though from onward-sailing Angels' wings; Iona! 'Tie not these that yearly draw Thy Pilgrims hither o'er the Northern sea And hold them there spell-bound in loving awe : That spell, Columba, is the thought of thee !
They gaze ; they muse ; " these shores that Exile trod—
That Exile's sons gave England to her God ! "
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