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Ard Macha is the capital of Ireland, a noble place of a high prince; he has come upon the beautiful citadel of many masses that is like blue Colt, full of valleys. Never let your contention be with Ard Macha of the white-washed wall, even if you go as far as ancient Corcach of the fair feasts among the chief places of the men of Ireland. Taillte and Nas Laighean of the slopes, Aileach and Eamhain, red with wine — no man leaves them sorrowful — Uisneach and Cruachain and Caiseal. Teamhair of the kings, rath of the hostages, was a dwelling-place loveliest in beauty; though it was a fortress brightly-coloured and well-shaped, Ard Macha excels the wall of Teamhair. Ard Macha with the light-filled fortifications is a timeless undecaying capital; Patrick chose the hill overlooking softly-turfed Eamhain of the Ulaidh. The church of Ard Macha of the towering wall is not smaller than three churches; the foundation of the wrought, magnificient church is a heavy, stately flag-stone. The laden apex of the curved stone
consists of shingles of stout oak; its smooth side was made warm with bright, white, swan-like lime. In Ard Macha of the great squadrons there is a golden sheen from its coloured statues; the lime of every stone in the church's wall has been coloured dark-brown. The green satin in the doorway yonder is made blue by the glass of the windows; the colour of the stone is transmuted above the cross of God of the Elements. The beautiful altar is draped in purple silk with white edges; every drape in the city of Rome would be better upon that altar. As well as lovely mass-cowls there are chalices of gold in the beautiful chapel; beloved is the building of letters and books that is not leaky, dark nor misshapen. You would find upon the arch of the white-sided church — carved berries stand out from it like red embers — weathered yew that is faultless; it is an excellent place to read books. There is harmony of bells and melodious clerics upon the floor of the Adzehead's church; there is a sweet-sounding, new-headed tongue in the bell of Patrick's church with its green drapes. Banbha, where great battles were routed, is all the diocese of Patrick of Macha's dwelling; the gracious Briton is the husband of Ireland of the birds and cool springs. Until the son of Calpurnius travelled over the sea, the men of Ireland were in incapacity; the Adzehead, the most outstanding heavenly support, was known in prophecy. Ancient Fionntan, great son of Bochna, came hither to Ireland of the golden weapons in order to possess it habitually hard by Partholon's tent. The Sons of Neimheadh ruled every powerful tribe in Ireland and divided it into oireachts ; though in the possession of the mighty Sons of Neimheadh, Ireland was taken from the band of noble generosity. After the smiting of their golden swords Ireland belonged to the Fir Bolg; they were hated throughout Ireland, the territory of Feilim and Ughaine. The Tuatha De Danann settled in Ireland with its young appletrees hard by the great, old rath of Midhe, about the pale, smooth, sandy
Boinn. Ireland like something borrowed was passed from man to man until the great invasion of the Sons of Mil — her choice troops gathered to attack them; Ireland fell to Eireamhon. Then from the time of the heroes the division of Ireland was carried out so that about her bright, melodious, pale, stately surface no part of Conn's Ireland remained undivided into fifths. Patrick of the land of the Britons came to Banbha of the white rays — it had been known in prophecy, it had been known to Fionn — and he banished pagans from Ireland. Patrick of the foreign pens blessed the host of Banbha; the prayer of the saint from Spain was that pure, grassy Magh Fail be hallowed. He consecrated all Ireland, the length of Inis Laoghaire; the Adzehead went all about Ireland of the Three Waves with its smooth streets. Behold a cool stream of a wondrous tale told of Patrick of the haven of generosity: through the Briton a sinner would be justified and go to cloudy heaven. A woman in green-waved Scotland in the east, with its fresh
fields, its grass, drank a poisonous snake in some blue, sandy water. The snake bore in her soft belly a brood which caused agony; she did not get from seer or physician anything to destroy that brood. When it had filled the woman's middle, it did not turn aside; the great progeny of the poisonous snake was a burning, destructive fire. An old, blind man in great Dun Monaidh was a wise man different from the rest in that he gave advice to the stately woman; he was no unreliable sage. " Go ahead to Patrick of the pens who has blessed the island of Ireland; he has all but destroyed the poison of serpents, my reliable information tells me." When the side of the ship struck the harbour of Ireland of the breasting wave — she needed the great good fortune — the offspring came forth. The apostle of angelic Ireland succoured the woman from Scotland; the Adzehead without setting foot upon it, blessed the harbour of smooth boats. I shall sing to the apostle of Ireland: (noble the fame of his holy exploits) you hurled the
demons across the sea, you consecrated Teamhair of Conn. Mighty is the heavenly Lord; mightier are you by reason of the Lord; a man without praying to any saint in heaven would be completely saved by your intercession. Ard Macha has from you many closely-written and decorated books; a protection for churches and a protection for you is all your pen wrote, O Patrick. You are the salvation of every soul, you are the powerful, stately one to ward off the danger of the world — you make peace with spiteful saints. From the bosom of God who shaped the sea, free us from the evil of the world; when bidden we renounce our sins, O Patrick of Partholon's dwelling. I brought with me from a noble patron saint's church, as payment for forgiveness, the rent of Patrick of the city of Rome; I leave it upon the bosom of the altar. The purple-robed clerics of Patrick are for doing battle with the battalion of the devil, for plundering hell of the numerous torments — valorous is the fight because of your virtues. Ireland, Inis
Laoghaire, is all your one church-enclosure; there is no need to bury a corpse in a churchyard since evil has departed from Ireland. No cause of shame is her produce now that the land of Banbha has been blessed; there are fruits in the field because of Calpurnius' son; no branch is incapable of produce. Because of Patrick of the pens a thread of cloth from Ireland is sufficient to stop the evil of the eastern land more effectively than balsam of any snake-infested country. When the melodious bell tolls the Adzehead's church fills up; it is the capital of Cobhthach's Ireland by reason of faultless, learned prayer. The church of great Conna, son of Fionntan (Ceall Chonna) is among the noblest churches east or west; multitudes come under the tutelage of the church of Conna of the capitals. Oil Finn, the capital of soft-harboured Connaught, belongs to Patrick's tent; his anger at the loss of wealth of the churches is like a territory that knows no borders. Caiseal of the kings is Patrick's rath in great,
mead-filled, softly-turfed Munster; whoever has attacked it, will not thereafter see heaven. Cruach Padraig of the red pavilions is a chief place of Banbha of the red slopes; everyone has gone along its well-trodden path for sanctuary in the hour of trouble.
consists of shingles of stout oak; its smooth side was made warm with bright, white, swan-like lime. In Ard Macha of the great squadrons there is a golden sheen from its coloured statues; the lime of every stone in the church's wall has been coloured dark-brown. The green satin in the doorway yonder is made blue by the glass of the windows; the colour of the stone is transmuted above the cross of God of the Elements. The beautiful altar is draped in purple silk with white edges; every drape in the city of Rome would be better upon that altar. As well as lovely mass-cowls there are chalices of gold in the beautiful chapel; beloved is the building of letters and books that is not leaky, dark nor misshapen. You would find upon the arch of the white-sided church — carved berries stand out from it like red embers — weathered yew that is faultless; it is an excellent place to read books. There is harmony of bells and melodious clerics upon the floor of the Adzehead's church; there is a sweet-sounding, new-headed tongue in the bell of Patrick's church with its green drapes. Banbha, where great battles were routed, is all the diocese of Patrick of Macha's dwelling; the gracious Briton is the husband of Ireland of the birds and cool springs. Until the son of Calpurnius travelled over the sea, the men of Ireland were in incapacity; the Adzehead, the most outstanding heavenly support, was known in prophecy. Ancient Fionntan, great son of Bochna, came hither to Ireland of the golden weapons in order to possess it habitually hard by Partholon's tent. The Sons of Neimheadh ruled every powerful tribe in Ireland and divided it into oireachts ; though in the possession of the mighty Sons of Neimheadh, Ireland was taken from the band of noble generosity. After the smiting of their golden swords Ireland belonged to the Fir Bolg; they were hated throughout Ireland, the territory of Feilim and Ughaine. The Tuatha De Danann settled in Ireland with its young appletrees hard by the great, old rath of Midhe, about the pale, smooth, sandy
Boinn. Ireland like something borrowed was passed from man to man until the great invasion of the Sons of Mil — her choice troops gathered to attack them; Ireland fell to Eireamhon. Then from the time of the heroes the division of Ireland was carried out so that about her bright, melodious, pale, stately surface no part of Conn's Ireland remained undivided into fifths. Patrick of the land of the Britons came to Banbha of the white rays — it had been known in prophecy, it had been known to Fionn — and he banished pagans from Ireland. Patrick of the foreign pens blessed the host of Banbha; the prayer of the saint from Spain was that pure, grassy Magh Fail be hallowed. He consecrated all Ireland, the length of Inis Laoghaire; the Adzehead went all about Ireland of the Three Waves with its smooth streets. Behold a cool stream of a wondrous tale told of Patrick of the haven of generosity: through the Briton a sinner would be justified and go to cloudy heaven. A woman in green-waved Scotland in the east, with its fresh
fields, its grass, drank a poisonous snake in some blue, sandy water. The snake bore in her soft belly a brood which caused agony; she did not get from seer or physician anything to destroy that brood. When it had filled the woman's middle, it did not turn aside; the great progeny of the poisonous snake was a burning, destructive fire. An old, blind man in great Dun Monaidh was a wise man different from the rest in that he gave advice to the stately woman; he was no unreliable sage. " Go ahead to Patrick of the pens who has blessed the island of Ireland; he has all but destroyed the poison of serpents, my reliable information tells me." When the side of the ship struck the harbour of Ireland of the breasting wave — she needed the great good fortune — the offspring came forth. The apostle of angelic Ireland succoured the woman from Scotland; the Adzehead without setting foot upon it, blessed the harbour of smooth boats. I shall sing to the apostle of Ireland: (noble the fame of his holy exploits) you hurled the
demons across the sea, you consecrated Teamhair of Conn. Mighty is the heavenly Lord; mightier are you by reason of the Lord; a man without praying to any saint in heaven would be completely saved by your intercession. Ard Macha has from you many closely-written and decorated books; a protection for churches and a protection for you is all your pen wrote, O Patrick. You are the salvation of every soul, you are the powerful, stately one to ward off the danger of the world — you make peace with spiteful saints. From the bosom of God who shaped the sea, free us from the evil of the world; when bidden we renounce our sins, O Patrick of Partholon's dwelling. I brought with me from a noble patron saint's church, as payment for forgiveness, the rent of Patrick of the city of Rome; I leave it upon the bosom of the altar. The purple-robed clerics of Patrick are for doing battle with the battalion of the devil, for plundering hell of the numerous torments — valorous is the fight because of your virtues. Ireland, Inis
Laoghaire, is all your one church-enclosure; there is no need to bury a corpse in a churchyard since evil has departed from Ireland. No cause of shame is her produce now that the land of Banbha has been blessed; there are fruits in the field because of Calpurnius' son; no branch is incapable of produce. Because of Patrick of the pens a thread of cloth from Ireland is sufficient to stop the evil of the eastern land more effectively than balsam of any snake-infested country. When the melodious bell tolls the Adzehead's church fills up; it is the capital of Cobhthach's Ireland by reason of faultless, learned prayer. The church of great Conna, son of Fionntan (Ceall Chonna) is among the noblest churches east or west; multitudes come under the tutelage of the church of Conna of the capitals. Oil Finn, the capital of soft-harboured Connaught, belongs to Patrick's tent; his anger at the loss of wealth of the churches is like a territory that knows no borders. Caiseal of the kings is Patrick's rath in great,
mead-filled, softly-turfed Munster; whoever has attacked it, will not thereafter see heaven. Cruach Padraig of the red pavilions is a chief place of Banbha of the red slopes; everyone has gone along its well-trodden path for sanctuary in the hour of trouble.
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