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Here, pilgrim, stop; rest on yonder monumental slab, beneath the shadow of that tall, ivy-mantled tower, the belfry of the cathedral….it once was gorgeous with the shrines of Fathers, and illumed by many a flickering taper, though now the hemlock fills its aisles, and the purple foxglove waves it’s lonely banneret. The ground whereon we stand is sacred – consecrated by the foot prints of our patron saint (St. Patrick), hallowed by the dust of Kings (Druid King Laeghaire). Look abroad over the wide, undulating plains of Meath, or to the green hills of Louth: where, in the broad landscapes of Britain, find we a scene more fruitful and varied or one more full of interesting, heart-stirring associations? …….William Robert Wilde 1849
