Though it be a flattering fiction that the saints
cleared these islands of all pestiferous animals,
it is more likely they never existed here any more than wolves.
We suspect green germs of life float in the air,
wet as it is, cleansing all who dwell here,
for the people never sicken until death.
The Venerable Bede, not to be doubted,
tells us every reptile and serpent carried from Britain
dies immediately it breathes the wind
blown from Irish shores
and every poison introduced from other countries
loses its malignant effect, as if turned to rain.
Bede himself witnessed people serpent-bit in England
given scrapings from the leaves of Irish books stirred in water
whereupon the venom lost its power and the swelling drained.
So hostile is Ireland to poison
that its dust sprinkled on foreign gardens
will drive away every venomous reptile.
Indeed, if all Britain knew these miraculous properties,
then neither book nor speck of soil
would be left in Ireland.
