The Tribe of Cas

ANONYMOUS (Early 17th Century)
SAINT BRENDAN'S PROPHECY
The following dialogue between Saint Senan and Saint Brendan, the founder of the Ancient Catherdral of Ardfert, and after whom a very high hill in County Kerry has been named, is translated from the Irish. It is probably a composition of the 16th or 17th century, and is a good example of the prophecic verses in which the Irish, in all periods, seem to have placed wonderful faith. (From T. Crofton Croker, in The Amulet, 1828).

Saint Senan	Brendan, holy Brendan of the blessed beard: I have heard it said among pious men, that thy guardian angel comes to visit thee. That angel to be thy guardian must belong to the highest choir to whom is given the gift of revelation.
	Brendan, holy Brendan of the blessed beard! Therefore ceases my wonder at thy power of prophecy, tell me, for I doubt not to thee it is known, what weight of evils hang over this land?

Saint Brendan	Changes sad and alteraion Will befall this sinful nation. Alas! I weep that my prediction Is a true one, and no fiction!

Saint Senan	Brendan, holy Brendan of the blessed beard, I ask thee to enlighten the darkness of my mind by thy heavenly wisdom?-

Saint Brendan	Senan, know the consolation Of an Angel's conversation, To my midnight vigils given, Is the precious gift of Heaven.

Saint Senan	Brendan, holy Brendan of the blessed beard, I ask of thee to reveal the future to my sight.

Saint Brendan	Senan, pious Senan, dear, The end of ages is drawing near; As the world grows withered and old, Charity will grow icy cold, Love and friendship will be strangers. Between clansmen strife and danger; Judges will from Justice falter, Bishops careless of their altar; Barly-cakes and water-cresses Our food, will change for gross excesses, And, while ponderous dishes carving, Leave the poor and aged starving. Pious men must pray on mountains, Or beside secluded fountains; Pale-faced abstinence and watches Will be changed for paint and patches; Abbots from their vows defaulting, Monks in darkness blindly halting: Priests, like grease-pots flat and burly, Will preach errors loud and surly; Laymen, pulpits will ascend, And there false novelties defend; Theft, they'll say, pride and sedition, Are less sins than superstition; Heaven they will grant to all, Who in their new readings fall!- Three Peers of the Dalcassian line Will usurp this glebe of mine; Then, alas! comes my undoing, Then my houses sink to ruin. For the reign of twenty kings Error soars on eagle wings; In the course of this confusion, Truth they'll call a vain illusion, 'Til a prince of Brian's race Shall set justice in her place; When that prince ascends the throne, Then my monks shall have their own. A Dalcassian, and no other, Both by father and by mother, Then shall rule for forty winters, From the time that first he enters; Lands and tythes, impropriation, He will change throughout the nation; And religion's pristine form Shall give peace and calm the storm.
	Translated by T. Crofton Croker

Saint Brendan's Prophecy