ELISU'S HYMN TO THE ARCHANGEL MICHAEL

(By Maelisu ua Brochain, a writer of religious poetry both in Irish and
Latin who died in 1051. Mael-Isu means "the tonsured of Jesus.")

Angel and Saint,
O Michael of the oracles,
O Michael of great miracles,
Bear to the Lord my plaint!

Hear my request!
Ask of the great, forgiving God,
To lift this vast and grievous load
Of sin from off my breast.

Why, Michael, tarry
My fervent prayer with upward wing
Unto the King, the great High King
Of Heaven and Earth, to carry?

Unto my soul
Bring help, bring comfort, yea bring power
To win release, in death's black hour,
From sin, distress, and dole.

Till, as devoutly
My fading eyes seek Heaven's dim height,
To meet me with thy myriads bright,
Do thou adventure stoutly.

Captain of hosts,
Against earth's wicked, crooked clan
To aid me lead thy battle van
And quell their cruel boasts.

Archangel glorious,
Disdain not now thy suppliant urgent,
But over every sin insurgent
Set me at last victorious.

Thou art my choosing!
That with my body, soul, and spirit
Eternal life I may inherit,
Thine aid be not refusing.

In my sore need
O thou of Anti-Christ the slayer,
Triumphant victor, to my prayer
Give heed, O now give heed!

MAELISU'S HYMN TO THE HOLY SPIRIT

O Holy Spirit, hasten to us!
Move round about us, in us, through us!
All our deadened souls' desires
Inflame anew with heavenly fires!

Yea! let each heart become a hostel
Of Thy bright Presence Pentecostal,
Whose power from pestilence and slaughter
Shall shield us still by land and water.

From bosom sins, seducing devils,
From Hell with all its hundred evils,
For Jesus' only sake and merit,
Preserve us, Thou Almighty Spirit!

EVE'S LAMENTATION

(From the Early Irish)

I am Eve, great Adam's wife,
'Twas my guilt took Jesus' life.
Since of Heaven I robbed my race,
On His Cross was my true place.

In His Paradise, God placed me,
Then a wicked choice disgraced me.
At the counsel of the Devil,
My pure hand I stained with evil;

For I put it forth and plucked,
Then the deadly apple sucked.
Long as woman looks on day,
Shall she walk in folly's way.

Winter's withering icy woe,
Whelming wave and smothering snow,
Hell to fright and death to grieve--
Had been never, but for Eve!

ALEXANDER