A story of Ugolino's death on Station Island

A story of Ugolino's death on Station Island

Lough Derg--Station Island--Literature--Murder

"Upon an ill day was sin done on the island of the cave itself, and was long remembered as the beginning of many sorrows to Derg..."

Shane Leslie, 1885-1971

Leslie, Shane, Lough Derg in Ulster : The Story of St. Patrick’s Purgatory, pp. 51-53

Maunsel, Dublin

1909

Digitised by archive.org, sponsored by University of California Libraries

Public domain

Monograph

English

Religious history

Text

DD_0019

54.6083, -7.8714

https://archive.org/details/loughderginulste00lesliala/page/2

"Upon an ill day was sin done on the island of the cave itself, and was long remembered as the beginning of many sorrows to Derg. It happened in this wise. There was a certain Crusader, Ugolino, who, with his humble squire, had fought valiantly against the hateful Saladin. In time the squire, though of meaner rank, became the bosom friend of his master, but the latter was no little displeased when he learnt that his sister, Madeleine, had turned eyes of love upon him. In the bitter end their love continued, and Ugolino, rather than let his proud blood mingle with any of lowlier stock, slew his own sister. Filled with an anguish of remorse he fled out of his own country to the ends of the world. As he had won glory in the east he now turned for his penance to the west. By land and sea and fen he made his way to the islands that lay in the setting sun. Yet one followed him by every path and journey, his once faithful squire, bearing in his bosom a dagger still stained with Madeleine's blood. The chase was close and hot, though the pursued had no idea that any one was following his tracks. When he reached Derg the avenger was upon him, and missed slaying him at the ferry-house by but a minute's breath. Ugolino reached the holy island in safety.

That night an angry man watched from the woods, baulked of his desire.

The next day Ugolino was praying on the stone beds at sunset, crying for peace even at the price of his own blood. His prayer was strangely heard. Quick as a hawk a figure passed aside from a passing train of pilgrims and buried a dagger to the hilt in his shoulders. Then it leapt into the shadowy waters and disappeared for ever.

This was the first blood-shedding on the holy island, and it was the beginning of countless sorrow. As for Derg, the Saints in heaven could no longer bless her stony beds. The holy island was quitted by men as well. For a while the natives took their prayers to Saint's Island where the semblance of the old prison cave was built, but even this in time was closed by order of the Holy Father in Rome. After a while they re- turned to the other island, but it was only to see their shrines polluted and their sanctuary levelled, for Ireland had entered upon her long and anguished prison night."

Monograph