"He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning. Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. Wail, Banba, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind.
— There he is again, says the citizen, staring out.
— Who? says I." (U12.374)
Email: [email protected]
- with questions, comments,
suggestions, or corrections
- for permission to use an image
- if you would like a paper copy of
a map, or a paper stereoviewer