perhaps, accounting for the absence of the skylark, alluded to in Moore's melody-The lake which skylark never warbled o'er.' Everyone knows the legend of St. Kevin and Kathleen. In a hole in a rock, which hangs twenty-five feet perpendicularly over the dark, deep lake, the saint is said to have made his bed. In that bed, so difficult of access, in a spot so lonely and desolate, he expected to be safe from woman's charms; but even there the and handsome anchorite was followed by Kathleen's eyes young of most unholy blue.' Starting from a horrible dream, in which the tempter presented her lovely form between him and the gate of heaven, he saw her there actually gazing upon him in the flesh, and in a fit of divine frenzy he flung her into the lake, and so got rid of the temptation for ever.

The impression of the whole scene of Glendalough is, to thoughtful minds, very saddening,. however the romantic spots about may be enlivened by the merriment of pic-nic parties. The aspect of the surrounding mountains is in keeping with the ruins scattered over the valley, which speak of power, of art, of piety, and of oriental civilisation existing in ages so remote, that history affords no authentic records of their origin. The gloomy lake and the cold sterile mountains seem to be in a sort of mysterious communion with the ivy-clad towers, and broken arches, and sculptured ornaments of the ruined temples, still haunted by human associations, which produce a painful sense of desolation. The Round Tower rises to the height of 110 feet, and is one of the finest structures of the kind. It is surrounded by time-worn monuments of the dead. There were many sculptured crosses in the cemetery, but they have all been thrown down, broken, and the fragments scattered about. One, however, remains, made out of a solid block of granite, eleven feet high, with the usual mystic circle at the top. Other stones, elaborately sculptured, have been found lying around the Abbey or Priory of St. Saviour, with curious symbolical devices. They are so beautiful in an artistic point of view, and represent animals and the human figure with such wonderful distinctness, that it is hard to believe they were produced in the times of confusion, destructive warfare, and barbarism, to which they have been generally ascribed. About a quarter of a mile west of the Ivy Church is the sup

6

posed site of the ancient city' of Glendalough. For the reasons already given, it is not likely that there was a large population permanently dwelling in this valley; but the fact that no traces of private houses have been found there is no proof to the contrary, because Irish towns,' or villages, as they would now be called, were then built of wood, and most of them were many times literally burnt to the ground.' Those towns, however, were so numerous in primitive times, that the land attached to them has formed the basis of the Ordnance Survey, and also of local taxation, the first division being 'town lands.' Most of them still bear the names of the old Irish clans. We learn from the Annalists that during the period when it was alleged that 'Norman' architecture prevailed, the city of Glendalough was repeatedly burned. Thus we read that in the years 1020, 1044, 1061, 1071, and 1084, the city of Glendalough was reduced by fire to a heap of ashes.' Again the abbey was destroyed by fire in 1163; and only six years later, Dermott McMurrough, King of Leinster, destroyed it once more; so that the capital of the O'Tooles' principality must have been very like a phoenix, springing up from its ashes as often as it was consumed. It was through the valley thus desolated that King Dermott conducted the forces of Strongbow to the siege of Dublin; and in the year 1176 Glendalough was once more plundered by the AngloNorman adventurers. Other desolating acts followed from time to time.

Now it should be recollected that this capital of the tribes which had possessed those glens for thousands of years is twentyfive miles from the metropolis, the seat of the English Government, and yet they continued to defy its power, unconquered, for four centuries. When, therefore, we consider the succession of calamities the O'Tooles endured from the violence of their enemies, our wonder should be, not that the ecclesiastical buildings erected in more modern times had fallen into ruins, but that one stone remained upon another, when the clan was finally subdued. Nor should we wonder that, to the Celtic imagination, the mistenveloped mountains, which witnessed the glories of the past, should appear wrapt in mourning; or that the dark waters should scem a dead lake a reservoir of tears-wept by a suffering

people, who had struggled for so many ages, bravely, constantly, and faithfully, against their destiny.

Bangor, in the county Down, was honoured by the title of The Mother of Monasteries.' It was said to have had 4,000 students at one time. No doubt the numbers are exaggerated in those ancient records, or traditions. But we must recollect that during the summer half-year they were accustomed to dwell in tents, and that they lived much in the open air. It was also their habit to bring with them provisions and other contributions to the common stock of the community. At any rate, this was one of the most celebrated of the Irish monasteries. It was easily reached by foreigners, as the passage from Scotland to the neighbouring town of Donaghadee is only twenty-one miles. In the course of time it became rich enough to attract the cupidity of the Danes, and of native robbers-Christians in name, but not less cruel than the Pagans. We have already noticed the fact that the first monastery in Ireland built of stone was at Bangor. During the three centuries that elapsed between that time and the Reformation, the Abbot of Bangor became very powerful and wealthy; and the church there seems to have deserved her title as a Mother. The last of the line was found, in the thirty-second year of Henry VIII., to be possessed of thirty-one townlands in Ards and Upper Clandeboye, the Grange of Earbeg, in the county of Antrim, the two Copeland Islands, the tithes of the Island of Raghery, three rectories in Antrim, three in Down, and a townland in the Isle of Man. The abbey, some of the walls of which still remain adjoining the parish church, was built early in the twelfth century. We are informed by Archdale that it had so gone to ruin in 1469, through the neglect of the abbot, that he was evicted by order of Pope Pius II., who commanded that the friars of the third order of St. Francis should immediately take possession of it, which was accordingly done, says Wadding, by Father Nicholas of that order. The whole of the possessions were granted by James I. to James Viscount Clandeboye.

CHAPTER VI.

THE CHURCH OF THE PALE AND THE REFORMATION.

says:

WHY did the Celts make no social progress in Ireland for a thousand years? Was it likely they would make none if let alone for ten thousand years? Is this due to their race, or to their institutions? If to the latter, why did they not reform their laws and customs? And how did it happen that Christianity did not correct propensities incompatible with the peace and order of society? Mommsen, in his History of Rome,' 'Such qualities-those of good soldiers and bad citizens—explain the historical fact that the Celts have shaken all States and have founded none. . . They were dispersed from Ireland and Spain to Asia Minor; but all their enterprises melted away like snow in spring, and they nowhere created a great State, or developed a distinctive culture of their own.' Niebuhr had written to the same effect:- An inherent incapacity of living under the dominion of law distinguishes them as barbarians from the Greeks and Italians. As individuals had to procure the protection of some magnate in order to live in safety, so the weaker tribes took shelter under the patronage of a more powerful one; for they were a disjointed multitude. . . . The houses and the villages, which were very numerous, were mean, the furniture wretcheda heap of straw covered with skins served both for bed and a seat; they did not cultivate corn save for a very limited consumption, for the main part of their food was the milk and the flesh of cattle.'

The annals of Ireland, from first to last, bear out this description, and no Celt seems ever to have thought of a radical cure for those social evils. In Ireland they had (all to themselves) for 2,000 years one of the richest countries in the world; and from century to century the land remained uncleared,

uncultivated, unenclosed, unfenced-no man having a field he could call his own, while families fought about the ridges of their petty cultivation, and tribes about the boundaries of the districts, 'countries,' or 'regions.' Dr. Keating says: It was the misfortune of the Irish that they were never free from intestine divisions, which contributed to their ruin. And so implacable was the spirit of discord among them that they would often join with the forces of the Danes to bring slavery on the country. About this time (A.D. 984), the Primate of Armagh assisted the foreigners who lived in Dublin, and by that means Ugaire, the son of Tuathal, King of Leinster, was surprised and taken prisoner.' The same author informs us that Brien Boiroimhe had the honour of his country so much at heart that by his authority he expelled all the Danes throughout the island except such as inhabited the cities of Dublin, Wexford, Waterford, Cork, and Limerick, whom he permitted to remain in the country for the benefit of trade; for these foreigners were a mercantile people, and by importation supplied the kingdom with commodities that served for pleasure, &c., and by this means were a public advantage to the whole nation.' No doubt of it, and they would have been a still greater advantage if they had not been so often robbed, and if the natives had followed their example, and given up war for industry. But how could the descendants of kings for forty generations stoop to shopkeeping? Their high mission was to consume, waste, and burn the fruits of the earth, and kill as many as possible of the ignoble producers. They could fight, and plunder, and feast, and sing, and dance, and hurl, and play at football, and jump, and run races, hunt for game, and catch fish, but they would not work. They would not use the spade, or the hammer, or the trowel, nor hew wood, or draw water. They had neither trades nor shops. They never developed their own abundant resources. What Christianity found them in the fourth or fifth century, they remained in all social circumstances to the twelfth century. Aptness for organisation, and method,

and system they had none. Laws indeed they had, but they had no regular courts to enforce them, and when passion was roused they were brushed away like a spider's web.

'So stationary was the character of this race,' says Mr. Pren