The Book of Irish Ballads


THE VIRGIN MARY'S BANK.

BY J. J. CALLANAN.

- Proofing in Progress -

[From the foot of Inchidony Island, an elevated tract of sand run out into the sea, and terminates in a high green bank, which forms pleasing contrast with the little desert behind it, and the black solitary rock immediately under.  Tradition tells that the Virgin came one night to this hillock to pray, and was discovered kneeling there by the crew of a vessel that was coming to anchor near the place.  They laughed at her piety, and made some merry and unbecoming remarks on her beauty, upon which a storm arose and destroyed the ship and her crew.  Since that time no vessel has been known to anchor near it.  Author's Note.]
The evening star rose beauteous above the fading day
As to the lone and silent beach the Virgin came to pray,
And hill and wave shone brightly in the moonlight's mellow fall;
But the bank of green where Mary knelt was brightest of them all.

Slow moving o'er the waters, a gallant bark appear'd,
And her joyous crew look'd from the deck as to the land she near'd;
To the calm and shelter'd haven she floated like a swan,
And her wings of snow o'er the waves below in pride and beauty shone.

The master saw our Lady as he stood upon the prow,
And mark'd the whiteness of her robe and the radiance of her brow;
Her arms were folded gracefully upon her stainless breast,
And her eyes look'd up among the stars to Him her soul lov'd best.

He show'd to his sailors, and he hail'd her with a cheer,
And on the kneeling Virgin they gazed with laugh and jeer;
And madly swore, a form so fair they never saw before;
And they curs'd the faint and lagging breeze that kept them from the shore.

The ocean from its bosom shook off the moonlight sheen,
And up its wrathful billows rose to vindicate their Queen;
And a cloud came o'er the heavens, and a darkness o'er the land,
And the scoffing crew beheld no more that Lady on the strand.

Out burst the pealing thunder, and the light'ning leap'd about;
And rushing with his watery war, the tempest gave a shout;
And that vessel from a mountain wave came down with thund'ring shock;
And her timbers flew like scatter'd spray on Inchidony's rock.

Then loud from all that guilty crew one shriek rose wild and high;
But the angry surge swept over them, and hush'd their gurgling cry;
And with a hoarse exulting tone the tempest passed away,
And down, still chafing from their strife, th' indignant waters lay.

When the calm and purple morning shone out on high Dunmore,
Full many a mangled corpse was seen on Inchidony's shore;
And to this day the fisherman shows where the scoffers sank:
And still he calls the hillock green, "the Virgin Mary's bank."

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MacCarthy, Denis Florence (1817-1882), ed. The Book of Irish Ballads. Dublin: James Duffy, 1869.

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Published in 1998 by Dennis McCarthy
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