Had power, and Patrick's name. His strenous arm
Labouring with theirs, reaped harvest heavy and sound,
Till wondering gazed their wearied eyes on barns
Knee-deep in grain. At last an eve there fell,
When, on the shore in commune, with such might
Discoursed that pilgrim of the things of God,
Such insight calm, and wisdom reverence-born,
Each on the other gazing in their hearts
Received once more an answer from the Lord,
"Now is your task completed: ye shall die."

Then on the red sand knelt those Elders twain
With hands upraised, and all their hoary hair
Tinged like the foam-wreaths by that setting sun,
And sang their "Nunc Dimittis." At its close
High on the sandhills, 'mid the tall hard grass
That sighed eternal o'er the unbounded waste
With ceaseless yearnings like their own for death
They found the place where first, that bark descried,
Their sighs were changed to songs. That spot they marked,
And said, "Our resurrection place is here:"
And, on the third day dying, in that place
The man who loved them laid them, at their heads
Planting one cross because their hearts were one
And one their lives. The snowy-breasted bird
Of ocean o'er their undivided graves
Oft flew with wailing note; but they rejoiced
'Mid God's high realm glittering in endless youth.

These two with Christ, on him, their son in Christ