Anonymous Irish

The White Lake

When holy Patrick full of grace Suffered on Cruach, that blest place, In grief and gloom enduring then For Eire's women, Eire's men, God for his comfort sent a flight Of birds angelically bright That sang above the darkling lake A song of unceasing for his sake. 'Twas thus they chanted, all and some, 'Come hither, Patrick! hither come! Shield of the Gael, thou light of story, Appointed star of the golden glory!' Thus singing all those fair birds smite The waters with soft wings in flight Till the dark lake its gloom surrenders And rolls a tide of silvery splendours.