Angel monologue — The Purgatory of St. Patrick

Nor do you Stay, but satisfy their longing. You behold the Irish nation, Who expect to hear God's truth From your lips. Oh, chosen youth, Leave your slavery. The vocation God has given thee is to sow Faith o'er all the Irish soil. There as Legate thou shalt toil, Ireland's great Apostle. Go First to France, to German's home, The good bishop: there thou'lt make Thy profession: there thou'lt take The monk's habit, and to Rome Pass, where letters thou'lt procure For that mighty work of thine, In the bulls of Celestine: Thou wilt visit, then, in Tours Martin, the great bishop there. Now upborne upon the wind Come with me, for thou wilt find God has given with prescient care His commands to all, that so Fitly thy great work be done; But 'tis time we should be gone: Let us on our journey go. [They disappear.