St. None forgot that she was the daughter of the 



Bridget ancient God of the Earth, but greater than 



Shores lie ' because m mm tliere was but eartn and 

 water, whereas in her veins ran the elements 



of air and fire. Was she not born at sunrise ? 



On the day she reached womanhood did not 



the house wherein she dwelled become wrapped 



in a flame which consumed it not, though the 



crown of that flame licked the high unburning 



roof of Heaven? In that hour when, her 



ancient divinity relinquished and she reborn 



a Christian saint, she took the white veil, did 



not a column of golden light rise from her 



head till no eyes could follow it ? In that 



moment when she died from earth, having 



taken mortality upon her so as to know a 



divine resurrection to a new and still more 



enduring Country of the Immortal, were there 



not wings of fire seen flashing along all the 



shores of the west and upon the summits of 



all Gaelic hills ? And how could one forget 



that at any time she had but to bend above 



the dead, and her breath would quicken, and 



a pulse would come back into the still heart, 



and what was dust would arise and be once 



more glad. 



The Fair Woman of February is still loved, 



still revered. Few remember the last fading 



traditions of her ancient greatness : few, even, 



80 



