f yore;
And the wrath-ripened fields, 'twas they who could reap them;
Till they trusted the forsworn, no foe could defeat them."

[Illustration: INSCRIPTION IN HONOUR OF KEATING.]

The poet-priest must have died at an advanced age, though the precise
date of his demise has not been ascertained. He has also left some
religious works; and his "Shaft of Death" is well known and much admired
both by divines and Celtic scholars.[517]

O'Sullivan Beare's history is too well known to require more than a
passing mention. It was said that he wrote as fiercely as he fought.
Archbishop Usher, with whom he had many a literary feud, appears to have
been of this opinion; for, after having described O'Sullivan as an
"egregious liar," he was so sensitive to any counter abuse he might
receive in return, that he carefully cut out every disparaging epithet
which the historian used from the copy of his reply, which at present
lies, with Usher's other works, in the Library of Trinity College,
Dublin.

The Four Masters are included amongst the Irish writers of this century,
but I have already given ample details of their labours. The _Acta
Sanctorum_ of Colgan, and Ward's literary efforts in a foreign land for
his country, are beyond all praise. Usher and Ware were also amongst the
giants of these days; and, considering the state of political and
religious excitement amongst which they lived and wrote, it is
incomparably marvellous that they should not have dipped their pens
still deeper into the gall of controversy and prejudice. Usher was one
of the _Hibernis ipsis Hiberniores_, for his family came to Ireland with
King John; but he admired and wrote Celtic history with the enthusiasm
of a Celt, and he gathered materials for other men's work with patient
industry, however he may have allowed party spirit to influence and warp
his own judgment in their use. Usher was Ware's most ardent patron.
Habits of indefatigable research did for him, in some degree, what
natural genius has done for others. Nor was he slow to recognize or
avail himself of native talent; and there can be no doubt, if he had
lived a few years longer after his acquaintance with MacFirbis, that
Irish literature would have benefited considerably by the united efforts
of the man of power, who was devoted to learning, and the man of gifts,
who had the abilities which neither position nor wealth can purchase.
John Lynch, the Bishop of Killala, and the indefatigable a