The Prophecy Of St. Oran: Part I Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCBCDD E F GG HIHIJK IIIIILL IMBMBNN IOPOQRR ISBSBII IQKQKTT NUIUIN NTVTVWW NRTXTNN NNTNTII NOTOTYY ININIZ INA2NA2TT ITNTNI ITHTHNN IRNRNKK NB2TNTC2C2 NTD2TD2I NE2TE2TIN NC2TC2TF2F2 NRNRNN INC2IC2CC ITITII IHG2HHR ITNTNH2 II2NJ2NNN NNH2

'Earth earth on the mouth of Oran that he may blab no more ' Gaelic ProverbA
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I-
THE storm had ceased to rave subsiding slowB
Lashed ocean heaved and then lay calm and stillC
From the clear North a little breeze did blowB
Severing the clouds high o'er a wooded hillC
The slant sun hung intolerably brightD
And spanned the sea with a broad bridge of lightD
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II-
Now St Columba rose from where he satE
Among his monkish crew and lifting high-
His pale worn hands his eagle glances metF
The awful glory which suffused the sky-
As soars the lark sweet singing from the sodG
So prayer is wafted from his soul to GodG
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III-
For they in their rude coracle that dayH
Shuddered had climbed the crests of mountainous waveI
To plunge down glassy walls of shifting sprayH
From which death roared as from an open graveI
Till the grim fury of the tempest o'erJ
Bursts on their ravished sight an azure shoreK
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IVI
Ah is this solid earth which meets their viewI
Or some still cloud land islanded on highI
Those crags are too a rially blueI
Too soft those mountains mingling with the skyI
And too ineffable their dewy gleamL
For aught but fabric of a fleeting dreamL
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VI
Entranced they gaze and o'er the glimmering trackM
Of seething gold and foaming silver rowB
Now to their left tower headlands bare and blackM
And blasted with grey centuries of snowB
Deep in whose echoing caves with hollow sighsN
Monotonous seas for ever ebb and riseN
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VII
Rounding these rocks they glide into a deepO
And tranquil bay in whose translucent floodP
The shadows of the azure mountains sleepO
High on a hill amid green foliage stoodQ
A square and rough hewn tower whose time bleached stoneR
Like some red beacon with the sunset shoneR
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VIII
A few more vigorous strokes and the sharp keelS
Grates on the beach on which inclining lowB
Their tonsured heads the monks adoring kneelS
While St Columba his pale face aglowB
With outward light and inward lifts on highI
The Cross swart outlined on the burning skyI
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VIIII
Impassive though in silent wonder stoodQ
The islesmen while these worshipped on their shoreK
A thorn crowned figure nailed upon the woodQ
From whose pierced side the dark blood seemed to pourK
While on the Father Son and Holy GhostT
They loudly called as brow and breast they crostT
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IXN
Spoke now their Master in a voice whose ringU
Was like the west wind's in a twilight groveI
'Glad tidings to this sea girt isle we bringU
Good tidings of our heavenly Father's loveI
Who sent His only Son oh marvellousN
Deep love to die that He might ransom us '-
-
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XN
'Come listen to the story of our LordT
Sweet Jesus Christ a child of lowly birthV
Whom in the manger the wise kings adoredT
For well they knew Him Lord of Heaven and EarthV
With myrrh and spice they journeyed from the farW
Prophetic East led by the Pilgrim StarW
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XIN
'And when the star stood still and mildly shoneR
Above a shed where lay the new born childT
They hailed Him God's only begotten SonX
Saviour of sinners and Redeemer mildT
Eve's promised seed when she with streaming eyesN
Saw the bright sword wave her from ParadiseN
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XIIN
'For we are children of a fallen raceN
Our sins are grievous in the Father's sightT
Death was our doom but that by heavenly graceN
God sent His Son to be a steadfast lightT
Which calmly shining o'er life's troubled waveI
The storm tossed souls of erring men might saveI
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XIIIN
'Go unto Him all ye that toil and weepO
Ye that are weary with the long day's loadT
He is the Shepherd watching o'er His sheepO
He leads His flock along the narrow roadT
And when He hears the bleating lamb's alarmY
He folds the weak one in His sheltering armY
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XIVI
'Ah tender Shepherd who didst love us soN
Choosing to die that we Thy flock might liveI
What bitter anguish ah what heavy woeN
To think O Lord that mortal hands should giveI
This wound that cleaves Thy side that mortal scornZ
In mockery crowned Thee with the barren thorn '-
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XVI
Sad was Columba's face his words were slowN
As though reluctant to the piteous taleA2
But now his eyes with sacred rapture glowN
And his wan features kindle like a paleA2
Dissolving cloud through which the moon is shedT
He speaks of Christ re risen from the deadT
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XVII
He ceased then cried 'Glory unto the LordT
Whose mercy is as boundless as the seaN
Fruitful to day makes He my feeble wordT
For with faith's eye an ancient chief I seeN
Whose bark o'er the blue deep is drawing nighI
He comes to be baptised before he die '-
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XVIII
Scarce had he ended when towards the landT
A wicker boat sped swiftly o'er the bayH
There by the Pictish chieftain hand in handT
Her golden locks entangled with his greyH
His grandchild sat lit by the level raysN
The loveliest and the last of all her raceN
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XVIIII
They hailed the Chief as to a sea worn stoneR
Two fishers bore him and his muffled senseN
Struggled with feeble eld to seize the toneR
Of the Saint's voice as he in words intenseN
Proclaimed the saving truth of gospel loreK
Then with his hands baptised the Chieftain hoarK
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XIXN
And when the holy dew had wet his browB2
And his wan lips tasted the sacramentT
His head against Columba's breast sank lowN
And o'er his face a smile of rapt contentT
Played softly smoothing out the lines of careC2
Which joy and grief and toil had planted thereC2
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XXN
Then on the spot where he has breathed his lastT
They lay him letting dust to dust returnD2
Then one by one as solemnly they castT
A little earth upon his grave they turnD2
To the benighted heathen look aboveI
And chaunt 'His soul is God's and God is love '-
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XXIN
A piteous cry and terrible then rungE2
Even like a very echo to the wordT
Upon the startled hearers whom it wrungE2
With answering grief as when along the chordT
Of palpitating harp the breezes sighI
Each string responsive wails in sympathyN
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XXIIN
A maiden with wild eyes and streaming hairC2
And features white with horror rose aghastT
Unconscious of the pitying people's stareC2
And on the new made grave herself she castT
In utter desolation till her frameF2
Convulsed by sobs shook like a wind blown flameF2
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XXIIIN
'Oh father father ' she at last made moanR
'My father's father last of all our raceN
Hast thou gone too and left me here aloneR
So helpless as I am so weak to faceN
The dreadful shifts of war with all its woesN
Cold hunger shame fear of insulting foes '-
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XXIVI
'Nay child blaspheme not in thine agonyN
Art thou not in our heavenly Father's careC2
He who upholds the everlasting skyI
Throughout the ages suffers not a hairC2
Of thine to fall but that it is His willC
Bless Him for joy for sorrow bless Him stillC
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XXVI
'Yea clasp thine unused hands in prayer and liftT
Thy still down drooping eyes to Him aboveI
Is not the giver greater than His giftT
Must not His love contain all lesser loveI
Of father mother brother husband wifeI
The Alpha He and Omega of life '-
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XXVII
Thus spake Columba burning to allayH
The pains of earthly love with saving truthG2
But she who deemed confusedly that theyH
With their sad rites had slain her sire forsoothH
Was deaf to him and ever made her moanR
'Hast thou gone too and left me here alone '-
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XXVIII
At last when all his words and prayers had failedT
To comfort or assuage the orphan's woeN
Who prostrate on the grave still wept and wailedT
Columba muttered as he turned to goN
'Nay sooner parley with the roaring mainH2
Than with a woman maddening in her pain '-
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XXVIIII
So thus they left her as she would not comeI2
Left her to night and a few firstling starsN
That here and there from the celestial domeJ2
Peered brightly through the narrow cloudy barsN
As though some great white seraph's lidless eyesN
Were looking down on her from ParadiseN
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XXIXN
But one there was who could not rest in peaceN
For pity of that maiden'H2

Mathilde Blind



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