At morning tide,
Upon the hill of Sliabh-na-mBan,
I saw the dead Christ glorified!
His body, like the risen sun,
Was all too bright to look upon:
The blue air burned
About him: in his side
And hands and feet there shone
( Thro’ stabs and gashes gaping wide )
The golden glory of his blood:
The gilly stood
Upon his right hand: at his feet
The fishers, Peter, James and John,
Knelt worshipping
With outstretched arms, and eyes
To heaven turned:
And Maria, his mother sweet,
( The partner of his mysteries ),
And Magdalen and Salome
Came thro’ the doorway of the day
Behind him, weeping.
.... Then a cloud came o'er
My senses, and I saw and heard no more!