“Give me thy sorrow, wild woman of the sea!”
“Peace to you, Colum,” she answered, and sank into the shadow-thridden
wave.
“Give my thy death and crucifixion, O Angus-dhu!” cried the Saint,
shaking with the sorrow.
“Peace to you, Colum,” answered the man-seal, and sank into the dusky
quietudes of the deep.
“Ah, bitter heart o’ me! Teach me the way to God, O little child,” cried
Colum the old, turning to where the Moon-Child was!
But lo, the glory and the wonder!
It was a little naked child that looked at him with healing eyes, but
there were no sea-weeds in her hair, and no shell in the little wee
hands of her. For now, it was a male Child that was there, shining with
a light from within: and in his fair sunny hair was a shadowy crown of
thorns, and in his hand was a pearl of great price.
“O Christ, my God,” said Colum, with failing voice.
“It is thine now, O Colum,” said the Moon-Child, holding out to him the
shining pearl of great price.
“What is it, O Lord my God?” whispered the old servant of God that was
now glad with the gladness: “what is this, thy boon?”
“Perfect Peace.”
_And that is all._
(_To God be the Glory. Amen._)
_THE MELANCHOLY OF ULAD_