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24 January

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  • ambrós
    Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Cadoc
    Message 1 of 15 , Jan 22, 2001
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      Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

      =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
      * St. Guasacht of Granard
      * St. Cadoc
      =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


      St. Guasacht of Granard,
      Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
      ----------------------------------------------------
      4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
      whom Saint Patrick (f.d. March 17) worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu
      set fire to his home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames
      rather than meet Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by
      Patrick, whom he helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a
      layman and later as bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two
      sisters, known as the Emers (f.d. December 11), also became Christians
      and lived as monastics (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


      St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
      (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
      ---------------------------------------------------
      Died c. 580.
      Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
      with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
      chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
      perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
      saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

      It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
      should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
      his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
      whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
      return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
      after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
      that of a prince.

      Legends are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
      sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
      table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
      followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
      subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
      hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
      there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
      made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
      marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
      great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
      its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
      patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

      When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
      Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
      they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
      enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

      But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
      day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
      robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
      the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

      Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
      and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
      small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
      cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
      maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
      himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
      lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
      had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
      Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
      celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
      Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


      Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
      Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
      life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
      thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
      countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
      Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

      Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
      We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
      pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
      adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
      martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
      may be blessed to die in Christ.

      Sources:
      ======

      Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate. (1966). The Book of
      Saints. NY: Thomas Y. Crowell. Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey,
      Ramsgate. (1947).

      D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
      Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most useful
      book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author provides a great
      deal of historical context in which to place the lives of the saints.]

      Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians for
      Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

      Montague, H. P. (1981). The saints and martyrs of Ireland. Guildford:
      Billing & Sons.

      For All the Saints:
      http://users.erols.com/saintpat/ss/ss-index.htm

      Celtic Orthodox Christianity Home Page
      http://www.nireland.com/orthodox/celtic.htm

      These Lives are archived at:
      http://www.egroups.com/group/celt-saints/
      *****************************************
    • ambrós
      Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Cadoc of Wales
      Message 2 of 15 , Jan 22, 2002
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        Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

        =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
        * St. Guasacht of Granard
        * St. Cadoc of Wales
        =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


        St. Guasacht of Granard,
        Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
        ----------------------------------------------------
        4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
        whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
        home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
        Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
        helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
        bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
        (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
        (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


        St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
        (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
        ---------------------------------------------------
        Died c. 580.
        Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
        with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
        chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
        perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
        saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

        It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
        should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
        his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
        whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
        return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
        after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
        that of a prince.

        Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
        sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
        table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
        followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
        subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
        hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
        there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
        made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
        marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
        great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
        its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
        patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

        When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
        Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
        they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
        enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

        But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
        day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
        robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
        the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

        Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
        and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
        small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
        cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
        maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
        himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
        lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
        had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
        Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
        celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
        Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


        Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
        Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
        life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
        thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
        countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
        Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

        Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
        We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
        pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
        adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
        martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
        may be blessed to die in Christ.


        Sources:
        ========

        Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
        (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

        D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
        Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
        useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
        provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
        lives of the saints.}

        Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
        for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

        Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
        Guildford: Billing & Sons.

        For All the Saints:
        http://users.erols.com/saintpat/ss/ss-index.htm

        Celtic Orthodox Christianity Home Page
        http://www.nireland.com/orthodox/celtic.htm

        These Lives are archived at:
        http://groups.yahoo.com/group/celt-saints
        *****************************************
      • ambrós
        Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Cadoc of Wales
        Message 3 of 15 , Jan 23, 2003
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          Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

          =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
          * St. Guasacht of Granard
          * St. Cadoc of Wales
          =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


          St. Guasacht of Granard,
          Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
          ----------------------------------------------------
          4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
          whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
          home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
          Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
          helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
          bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
          (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
          (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


          St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
          (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
          ---------------------------------------------------
          Died c. 580.
          Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
          with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
          chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
          perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
          saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

          It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
          should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
          his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
          whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
          return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
          after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
          that of a prince.

          Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
          sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
          table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
          followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
          subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
          hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
          there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
          made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
          marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
          great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
          its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
          patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

          When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
          Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
          they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
          enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

          But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
          day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
          robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
          the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

          Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
          and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
          small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
          cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
          maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
          himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
          lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
          had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
          Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
          celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
          Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


          Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
          Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
          life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
          thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
          countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
          Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

          Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
          We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
          pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
          adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
          martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
          may be blessed to die in Christ.


          Sources:
          ========

          Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
          (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

          D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
          Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
          useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
          provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
          lives of the saints.}

          Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
          for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

          Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
          Guildford: Billing & Sons.

          For All the Saints:
          http://users.erols.com/saintpat/ss/ss-index.htm

          Celtic Orthodox Christianity Home Page
          http://www.orthodoxireland.com/celtic.htm

          These Lives are archived at:
          http://groups.yahoo.com/group/celt-saints
          *****************************************
        • emrys@globe.net.nz
          Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Cadoc of Wales
          Message 4 of 15 , Jan 22, 2004
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            Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

            =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
            * St. Guasacht of Granard
            * St. Cadoc of Wales
            =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


            St. Guasacht of Granard,
            Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
            ----------------------------------------------------
            4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
            whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
            home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
            Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
            helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
            bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
            (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
            (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


            St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
            (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
            ---------------------------------------------------
            Died c. 580.
            Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
            with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
            chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
            perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
            saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

            It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
            should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
            his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
            whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
            return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
            after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
            that of a prince.

            Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
            sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
            table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
            followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
            subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
            hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
            there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
            made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
            marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
            great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
            its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
            patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

            When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
            Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
            they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
            enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

            But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
            day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
            robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
            the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

            Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
            and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
            small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
            cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
            maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
            himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
            lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
            had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
            Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
            celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
            Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


            Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
            Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
            life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
            thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
            countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
            Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

            Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
            We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
            pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
            adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
            martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
            may be blessed to die in Christ.


            Sources:
            ========

            Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
            (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

            D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
            Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
            useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
            provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
            lives of the saints.}

            Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
            for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

            Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
            Guildford: Billing & Sons.

            For All the Saints:
            http://www.saintpatrickdc.org/ss/ss-index.htm

            Orthodox Ireland Saints
            http://www.orthodoxireland.com/saints/

            An Alphabetical Index of the Saints of the West
            http://www.orthodoxengland.btinternet.co.uk/saintsa.htm

            These Lives are archived at:
            http://groups.yahoo.com/group/celt-saints
            *****************************************
          • emrys@globe.net.nz
            Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
            Message 5 of 15 , Jan 23, 2005
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              Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

              =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
              * St. Guasacht of Granard
              * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
              * St. Cadoc of Wales
              =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


              St. Guasacht of Granard,
              Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
              ----------------------------------------------------
              4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
              whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
              home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
              Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
              helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
              bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
              (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
              (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


              St. Manach of Lemonaghan
              ---------------------------------------

              St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
              the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
              at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
              bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
              There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

              Shrine of Saint Manchan
              http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html


              St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
              Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
              monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
              surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
              be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

              About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
              for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
              the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
              thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
              spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
              by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
              that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

              There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
              explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
              cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
              charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
              got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
              was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
              returned to supplying milk.

              St. Manchan shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains some of
              his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass figures, in
              1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine of its kind in
              existence today. At present it is on loan to the national Museum in Dublin.
              St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. During this time he looked
              after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
              and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

              In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
              which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
              his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
              grey land.
              ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

              How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

              In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
              against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
              ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
              grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarán, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
              bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
              there to Christianize it.

              St. Ciarán chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
              was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
              then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
              St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
              bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
              gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
              as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
              with his mother in order to communicate with her.

              St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
              survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
              times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
              water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
              ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


              St. Manchan
              a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
              Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
              By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

              I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
              Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
              carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
              glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
              us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
              the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
              promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
              grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
              enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
              more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
              the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
              glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
              people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
              could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
              it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

              The Grey Land

              I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
              evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
              vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
              limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
              the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
              Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
              yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
              the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
              voluble.

              I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
              heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
              then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
              of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
              human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
              some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
              and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
              vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
              of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
              merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
              Saint's day.

              The Saint's Cow

              They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
              all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
              Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
              whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
              saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
              watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
              stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
              home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
              backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
              inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
              down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
              passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
              marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
              has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
              of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
              Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

              In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
              started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
              stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
              carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
              struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
              She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
              on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
              supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
              Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
              never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
              grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

              The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
              Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
              from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
              Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
              looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
              the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
              and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
              vowed never to speak to a woman!

              A Famous Shrine

              Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
              zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
              groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
              saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
              of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
              wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
              times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
              ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

              St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
              desire of the green martyrs:

              Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
              Son of the living God!-
              A small hut in a lonesome spot
              To make it my abode.
              A little pool but very clear
              To stand beside the place
              Where all men's sins are washed away
              By sanctifying grace.
              A pleasant woodland all about
              To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
              And make a home for singing birds
              Before it and behind.
              A southern aspect for the heat
              A stream along its foot,
              A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
              Propitious to all fruit.
              My choice of men to live with me
              And pray to God as well;
              Quiet men of humble mind --
              Their number I shall tell.
              Four files of three or three of four
              To give the Psalter forth;
              Six to pray by the south church wall
              And six along the north.
              Two by two my dozen friends --
              To tell the number right --
              Praying with me to move the King
              Who gives the sun its light.


              St Manach's Shrine
              http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
              ns_shrine.htm
              or
              http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


              St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
              (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
              ---------------------------------------------------
              Died c. 580.
              Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
              with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
              chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
              perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
              saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

              It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
              should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
              his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
              whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
              return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
              after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
              that of a prince.

              Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
              sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
              table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
              followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
              subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
              hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
              there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
              made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
              marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
              great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
              its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
              patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

              When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
              Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
              they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
              enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

              But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
              day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
              robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
              the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

              Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
              and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
              small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
              cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
              maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
              himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
              lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
              had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
              Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
              celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
              Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


              Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
              Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
              life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
              thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
              countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
              Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

              Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
              We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
              pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
              adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
              martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
              may be blessed to die in Christ.


              Sources:
              ========

              Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
              (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

              D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
              Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
              useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
              provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
              lives of the saints.}

              Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
              for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

              Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
              Guildford: Billing & Sons.
            • emrys@globe.net.nz
              Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
              Message 6 of 15 , Jan 23, 2006
              • 0 Attachment
                Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

                =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                * St. Guasacht of Granard
                * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                * St. Cadoc of Wales
                =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


                St. Guasacht of Granard,
                Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
                ----------------------------------------------------
                4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
                whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
                home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
                Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
                helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
                bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
                (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
                (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


                St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                ---------------------------------------

                St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
                the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
                at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
                bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
                There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

                Shrine of Saint Manchan
                http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html


                St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
                Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
                monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
                surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
                be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

                About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
                for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
                the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
                thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
                spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
                by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
                that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

                There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
                explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
                cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
                charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
                got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
                was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
                returned to supplying milk.

                St. Manchan's shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains some
                of
                his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass figures, in
                1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine of its kind in
                existence today. At present it is on loan to the national Museum in Dublin.
                The guardians of the shrine through the centuries are the Mooney family
                (my ancestors!)

                St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. TDuring this time he looked
                after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
                and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

                In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
                which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
                his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
                grey land.
                ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

                In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
                against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
                ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
                grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarán, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
                bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
                there to Christianize it.

                St. Ciarán chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
                was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
                then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
                St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
                bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
                gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
                as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
                with his mother in order to communicate with her.

                St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
                survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
                times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
                water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
                ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


                St. Manchan
                a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
                Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
                By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

                I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
                Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
                carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
                glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
                us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
                the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
                promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
                grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
                enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
                more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
                the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
                glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
                people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
                could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
                it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

                The Grey Land

                I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
                evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
                vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
                limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
                the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
                Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
                yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
                the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
                voluble.

                I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
                heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
                then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
                of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
                human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
                some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
                and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
                vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
                of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
                merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
                Saint's day.

                The Saint's Cow

                They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
                all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
                Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
                whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
                saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
                watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
                stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
                home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
                backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
                inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
                down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
                passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
                marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
                has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
                of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
                Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

                In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
                started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
                stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
                carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
                struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
                She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
                on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
                supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
                Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
                never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
                grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

                The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
                Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
                from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
                Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
                looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
                the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
                and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
                vowed never to speak to a woman!

                A Famous Shrine

                Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
                zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
                groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
                saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
                of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
                wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
                times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
                ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
                desire of the green martyrs:

                Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
                Son of the living God!-
                A small hut in a lonesome spot
                To make it my abode.
                A little pool but very clear
                To stand beside the place
                Where all men's sins are washed away
                By sanctifying grace.
                A pleasant woodland all about
                To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
                And make a home for singing birds
                Before it and behind.
                A southern aspect for the heat
                A stream along its foot,
                A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
                Propitious to all fruit.
                My choice of men to live with me
                And pray to God as well;
                Quiet men of humble mind --
                Their number I shall tell.
                Four files of three or three of four
                To give the Psalter forth;
                Six to pray by the south church wall
                And six along the north.
                Two by two my dozen friends --
                To tell the number right --
                Praying with me to move the King
                Who gives the sun its light.


                St Manach's Shrine
                http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
                ns_shrine.htm
                or
                http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


                St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
                (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
                ---------------------------------------------------
                Died c. 580.
                Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
                with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
                chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
                perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
                saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

                It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
                should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
                his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
                whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
                return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
                after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
                that of a prince.

                Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
                sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
                table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
                followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
                subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
                hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
                there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
                made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
                marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
                great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
                its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
                patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

                When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
                Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
                they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
                enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

                But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
                day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
                robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
                the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

                Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
                and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
                small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
                cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
                maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
                himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
                lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
                had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
                Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
                celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
                Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


                Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
                life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
                thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
                countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
                Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

                Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
                pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
                adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
                martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
                may be blessed to die in Christ.


                Sources:
                ========

                Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
                (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

                D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
                Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
                useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
                provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
                lives of the saints.}

                Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
                for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

                Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
                Guildford: Billing & Sons.
              • emrys@globe.net.nz
                Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
                Message 7 of 15 , Jan 23, 2007
                • 0 Attachment
                  Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

                  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                  * St. Guasacht of Granard
                  * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                  * St. Cadoc of Wales
                  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


                  St. Guasacht of Granard,
                  Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
                  ----------------------------------------------------
                  4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
                  whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
                  home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
                  Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
                  helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
                  bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
                  (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
                  (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


                  St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                  ---------------------------------------
                  St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
                  Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
                  monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
                  surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
                  be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

                  About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
                  for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
                  the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
                  thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
                  spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
                  by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
                  that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

                  There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
                  explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
                  cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
                  charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
                  got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
                  was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
                  returned to supplying milk.

                  St. Manchan's shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains
                  some of his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass
                  figures, in 1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine
                  of its kind in existence today. The guardians of the shrine through
                  the centuries are the Mooney family (my ancestors!)

                  St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
                  the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
                  at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
                  bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
                  There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

                  Shrine of Saint Manchan
                  http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html
                  http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img20.gif
                  http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img21.gif



                  St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. During this time he looked
                  after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
                  and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

                  In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
                  which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
                  his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
                  grey land.
                  ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                  How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

                  In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
                  against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
                  ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
                  grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarán, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
                  bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
                  there to Christianize it.

                  St. Ciarán chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
                  was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
                  then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
                  St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
                  bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
                  gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
                  as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
                  with his mother in order to communicate with her.

                  St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
                  survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
                  times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
                  water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
                  ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


                  St. Manchan
                  a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
                  Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
                  By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

                  I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
                  Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
                  carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
                  glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
                  us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
                  the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
                  promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
                  grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
                  enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
                  more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
                  the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
                  glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
                  people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
                  could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
                  it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

                  The Grey Land

                  I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
                  evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
                  vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
                  limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
                  the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
                  Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
                  yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
                  the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
                  voluble.

                  I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
                  heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
                  then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
                  of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
                  human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
                  some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
                  and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
                  vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
                  of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
                  merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
                  Saint's day.

                  The Saint's Cow

                  They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
                  all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
                  Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
                  whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
                  saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
                  watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
                  stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
                  home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
                  backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
                  inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
                  down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
                  passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
                  marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
                  has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
                  of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
                  Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

                  In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
                  started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
                  stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
                  carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
                  struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
                  She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
                  on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
                  supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
                  Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
                  never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
                  grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

                  The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
                  Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
                  from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
                  Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
                  looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
                  the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
                  and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
                  vowed never to speak to a woman!

                  A Famous Shrine

                  Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
                  zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
                  groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
                  saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
                  of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
                  wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
                  times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
                  ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                  St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
                  desire of the green martyrs:

                  Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
                  Son of the living God!-
                  A small hut in a lonesome spot
                  To make it my abode.
                  A little pool but very clear
                  To stand beside the place
                  Where all men's sins are washed away
                  By sanctifying grace.
                  A pleasant woodland all about
                  To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
                  And make a home for singing birds
                  Before it and behind.
                  A southern aspect for the heat
                  A stream along its foot,
                  A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
                  Propitious to all fruit.
                  My choice of men to live with me
                  And pray to God as well;
                  Quiet men of humble mind --
                  Their number I shall tell.
                  Four files of three or three of four
                  To give the Psalter forth;
                  Six to pray by the south church wall
                  And six along the north.
                  Two by two my dozen friends --
                  To tell the number right --
                  Praying with me to move the King
                  Who gives the sun its light.


                  St Manach's Shrine
                  http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
                  ns_shrine.htm
                  or
                  http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


                  St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
                  (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
                  ---------------------------------------------------
                  Died c. 580.
                  Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
                  with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
                  chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
                  perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
                  saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

                  It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
                  should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
                  his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
                  whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
                  return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
                  after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
                  that of a prince.

                  Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
                  sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
                  table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
                  followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
                  subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
                  hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
                  there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
                  made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
                  marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
                  great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
                  its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
                  patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

                  When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
                  Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
                  they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
                  enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

                  But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
                  day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
                  robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
                  the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

                  Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
                  and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
                  small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
                  cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
                  maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
                  himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
                  lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
                  had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
                  Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
                  celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
                  Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


                  Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                  Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
                  life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
                  thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
                  countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
                  Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

                  Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                  We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
                  pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
                  adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
                  martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
                  may be blessed to die in Christ.


                  Sources:
                  ========

                  Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
                  (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

                  D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
                  Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
                  useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
                  provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
                  lives of the saints.}

                  Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
                  for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

                  Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
                  Guildford: Billing & Sons.
                • emrys@globe.net.nz
                  Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
                  Message 8 of 15 , Jan 22, 2008
                  • 0 Attachment
                    Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

                    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                    * St. Guasacht of Granard
                    * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                    * St. Cadoc of Wales
                    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


                    St. Guasacht of Granard,
                    Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
                    ----------------------------------------------------
                    4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
                    whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
                    home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
                    Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
                    helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
                    bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
                    (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
                    (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


                    St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                    ---------------------------------------
                    St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
                    Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
                    monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
                    surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
                    be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

                    About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
                    for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
                    the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
                    thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
                    spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
                    by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
                    that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

                    There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
                    explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
                    cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
                    charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
                    got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
                    was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
                    returned to supplying milk.

                    St. Manchan's shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains
                    some of his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass
                    figures, in 1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine
                    of its kind in existence today. The guardians of the shrine through
                    the centuries are the Mooney family (my ancestors!)

                    St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
                    the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
                    at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
                    bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
                    There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

                    Shrine of Saint Manchan
                    http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html
                    http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img20.gif
                    http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img21.gif



                    St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. During this time he looked
                    after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
                    and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

                    In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
                    which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
                    his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
                    grey land.
                    ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                    How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

                    In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
                    against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
                    ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
                    grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarán, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
                    bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
                    there to Christianize it.

                    St. Ciarán chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
                    was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
                    then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
                    St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
                    bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
                    gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
                    as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
                    with his mother in order to communicate with her.

                    St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
                    survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
                    times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
                    water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
                    ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


                    St. Manchan
                    a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
                    Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
                    By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

                    I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
                    Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
                    carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
                    glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
                    us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
                    the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
                    promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
                    grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
                    enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
                    more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
                    the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
                    glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
                    people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
                    could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
                    it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

                    The Grey Land

                    I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
                    evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
                    vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
                    limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
                    the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
                    Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
                    yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
                    the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
                    voluble.

                    I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
                    heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
                    then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
                    of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
                    human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
                    some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
                    and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
                    vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
                    of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
                    merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
                    Saint's day.

                    The Saint's Cow

                    They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
                    all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
                    Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
                    whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
                    saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
                    watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
                    stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
                    home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
                    backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
                    inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
                    down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
                    passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
                    marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
                    has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
                    of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
                    Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

                    In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
                    started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
                    stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
                    carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
                    struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
                    She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
                    on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
                    supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
                    Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
                    never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
                    grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

                    The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
                    Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
                    from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
                    Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
                    looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
                    the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
                    and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
                    vowed never to speak to a woman!

                    A Famous Shrine

                    Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
                    zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
                    groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
                    saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
                    of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
                    wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
                    times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
                    ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                    St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
                    desire of the green martyrs:

                    Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
                    Son of the living God!-
                    A small hut in a lonesome spot
                    To make it my abode.
                    A little pool but very clear
                    To stand beside the place
                    Where all men's sins are washed away
                    By sanctifying grace.
                    A pleasant woodland all about
                    To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
                    And make a home for singing birds
                    Before it and behind.
                    A southern aspect for the heat
                    A stream along its foot,
                    A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
                    Propitious to all fruit.
                    My choice of men to live with me
                    And pray to God as well;
                    Quiet men of humble mind --
                    Their number I shall tell.
                    Four files of three or three of four
                    To give the Psalter forth;
                    Six to pray by the south church wall
                    And six along the north.
                    Two by two my dozen friends --
                    To tell the number right --
                    Praying with me to move the King
                    Who gives the sun its light.


                    St Manach's Shrine
                    http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
                    ns_shrine.htm
                    or
                    http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


                    St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
                    (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
                    ---------------------------------------------------
                    Died c. 580.
                    Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
                    with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
                    chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
                    perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
                    saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

                    It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
                    should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
                    his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
                    whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
                    return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
                    after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
                    that of a prince.

                    Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
                    sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
                    table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
                    followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
                    subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
                    hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
                    there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
                    made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
                    marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
                    great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
                    its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
                    patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

                    When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
                    Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
                    they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
                    enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

                    But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
                    day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
                    robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
                    the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

                    Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
                    and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
                    small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
                    cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
                    maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
                    himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
                    lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
                    had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
                    Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
                    celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
                    Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


                    Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                    Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
                    life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
                    thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
                    countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
                    Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

                    Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                    We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
                    pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
                    adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
                    martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
                    may be blessed to die in Christ.


                    Sources:
                    ========

                    Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
                    (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

                    D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
                    Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
                    useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
                    provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
                    lives of the saints.}

                    Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
                    for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

                    Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
                    Guildford: Billing & Sons.
                  • emrys@globe.net.nz
                    Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
                    Message 9 of 15 , Jan 23, 2009
                    • 0 Attachment
                      Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

                      =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                      * St. Guasacht of Granard
                      * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                      * St. Cadoc of Wales
                      =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


                      St. Guasacht of Granard,
                      Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
                      ----------------------------------------------------
                      4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
                      whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
                      home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
                      Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
                      helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
                      bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
                      (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
                      (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


                      St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                      ---------------------------------------
                      St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
                      Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
                      monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
                      surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
                      be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

                      About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
                      for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
                      the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
                      thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
                      spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
                      by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
                      that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

                      There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
                      explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
                      cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
                      charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
                      got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
                      was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
                      returned to supplying milk.

                      St. Manchan's shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains
                      some of his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass
                      figures, in 1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine
                      of its kind in existence today. The guardians of the shrine through
                      the centuries are the Mooney family (my ancestors!)

                      St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
                      the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
                      at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
                      bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
                      There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

                      Shrine of Saint Manchan
                      http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html
                      http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img20.gif
                      http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img21.gif



                      St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. During this time he looked
                      after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
                      and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

                      In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
                      which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
                      his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
                      grey land.
                      ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                      How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

                      In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
                      against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
                      ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
                      grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarбn, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
                      bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
                      there to Christianize it.

                      St. Ciarбn chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
                      was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
                      then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
                      St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
                      bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
                      gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
                      as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
                      with his mother in order to communicate with her.

                      St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
                      survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
                      times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
                      water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
                      ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


                      St. Manchan
                      a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
                      Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
                      By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

                      I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
                      Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
                      carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
                      glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
                      us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
                      the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
                      promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
                      grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
                      enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
                      more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
                      the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
                      glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
                      people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
                      could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
                      it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

                      The Grey Land

                      I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
                      evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
                      vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
                      limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
                      the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
                      Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
                      yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
                      the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
                      voluble.

                      I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
                      heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
                      then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
                      of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
                      human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
                      some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
                      and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
                      vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
                      of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
                      merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
                      Saint's day.

                      The Saint's Cow

                      They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
                      all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
                      Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
                      whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
                      saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
                      watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
                      stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
                      home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
                      backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
                      inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
                      down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
                      passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
                      marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
                      has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
                      of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
                      Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

                      In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
                      started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
                      stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
                      carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
                      struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
                      She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
                      on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
                      supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
                      Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
                      never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
                      grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

                      The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
                      Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
                      from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
                      Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
                      looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
                      the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
                      and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
                      vowed never to speak to a woman!

                      A Famous Shrine

                      Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
                      zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
                      groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
                      saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
                      of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
                      wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
                      times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
                      ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                      St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
                      desire of the green martyrs:

                      Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
                      Son of the living God!-
                      A small hut in a lonesome spot
                      To make it my abode.
                      A little pool but very clear
                      To stand beside the place
                      Where all men's sins are washed away
                      By sanctifying grace.
                      A pleasant woodland all about
                      To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
                      And make a home for singing birds
                      Before it and behind.
                      A southern aspect for the heat
                      A stream along its foot,
                      A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
                      Propitious to all fruit.
                      My choice of men to live with me
                      And pray to God as well;
                      Quiet men of humble mind --
                      Their number I shall tell.
                      Four files of three or three of four
                      To give the Psalter forth;
                      Six to pray by the south church wall
                      And six along the north.
                      Two by two my dozen friends --
                      To tell the number right --
                      Praying with me to move the King
                      Who gives the sun its light.


                      St Manach's Shrine
                      http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
                      ns_shrine.htm
                      or
                      http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


                      St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
                      (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
                      ---------------------------------------------------
                      Died c. 580.
                      Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
                      with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
                      chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
                      perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
                      saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

                      It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
                      should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
                      his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
                      whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
                      return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
                      after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
                      that of a prince.

                      Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
                      sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
                      table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
                      followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
                      subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
                      hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
                      there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
                      made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
                      marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
                      great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
                      its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
                      patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

                      When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
                      Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
                      they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
                      enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

                      But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
                      day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
                      robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
                      the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

                      Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
                      and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
                      small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
                      cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
                      maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
                      himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
                      lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
                      had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
                      Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
                      celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
                      Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


                      Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                      Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
                      life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
                      thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
                      countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
                      Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

                      Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                      We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
                      pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
                      adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
                      martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
                      may be blessed to die in Christ.


                      Sources:
                      ========

                      Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
                      (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

                      D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
                      Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
                      useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
                      provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
                      lives of the saints.}

                      Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
                      for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

                      Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
                      Guildford: Billing & Sons.
                    • emrys@globe.net.nz
                      Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
                      Message 10 of 15 , Jan 24, 2010
                      • 0 Attachment
                        Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

                        =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                        * St. Guasacht of Granard
                        * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                        * St. Cadoc of Wales
                        =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


                        St. Guasacht of Granard,
                        Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
                        ----------------------------------------------------
                        4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
                        whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
                        home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
                        Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
                        helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
                        bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
                        (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
                        (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


                        St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                        ---------------------------------------
                        St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
                        Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
                        monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
                        surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
                        be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

                        About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
                        for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
                        the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
                        thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
                        spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
                        by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
                        that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

                        There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
                        explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
                        cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
                        charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
                        got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
                        was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
                        returned to supplying milk.

                        St. Manchan's shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains
                        some of his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass
                        figures, in 1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine
                        of its kind in existence today. The guardians of the shrine through
                        the centuries are the Mooney family (my ancestors!)

                        St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
                        the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
                        at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
                        bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
                        There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

                        Shrine of Saint Manchan
                        http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html
                        http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img20.gif
                        http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img21.gif



                        St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. During this time he looked
                        after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
                        and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

                        In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
                        which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
                        his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
                        grey land.
                        ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                        How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

                        In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
                        against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
                        ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
                        grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarбn, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
                        bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
                        there to Christianize it.

                        St. Ciarбn chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
                        was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
                        then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
                        St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
                        bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
                        gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
                        as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
                        with his mother in order to communicate with her.

                        St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
                        survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
                        times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
                        water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
                        ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


                        St. Manchan
                        a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
                        Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
                        By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

                        I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
                        Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
                        carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
                        glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
                        us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
                        the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
                        promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
                        grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
                        enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
                        more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
                        the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
                        glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
                        people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
                        could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
                        it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

                        The Grey Land

                        I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
                        evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
                        vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
                        limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
                        the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
                        Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
                        yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
                        the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
                        voluble.

                        I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
                        heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
                        then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
                        of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
                        human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
                        some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
                        and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
                        vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
                        of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
                        merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
                        Saint's day.

                        The Saint's Cow

                        They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
                        all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
                        Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
                        whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
                        saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
                        watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
                        stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
                        home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
                        backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
                        inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
                        down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
                        passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
                        marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
                        has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
                        of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
                        Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

                        In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
                        started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
                        stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
                        carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
                        struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
                        She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
                        on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
                        supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
                        Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
                        never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
                        grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

                        The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
                        Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
                        from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
                        Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
                        looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
                        the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
                        and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
                        vowed never to speak to a woman!

                        A Famous Shrine

                        Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
                        zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
                        groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
                        saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
                        of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
                        wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
                        times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
                        ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                        St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
                        desire of the green martyrs:

                        Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
                        Son of the living God!-
                        A small hut in a lonesome spot
                        To make it my abode.
                        A little pool but very clear
                        To stand beside the place
                        Where all men's sins are washed away
                        By sanctifying grace.
                        A pleasant woodland all about
                        To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
                        And make a home for singing birds
                        Before it and behind.
                        A southern aspect for the heat
                        A stream along its foot,
                        A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
                        Propitious to all fruit.
                        My choice of men to live with me
                        And pray to God as well;
                        Quiet men of humble mind --
                        Their number I shall tell.
                        Four files of three or three of four
                        To give the Psalter forth;
                        Six to pray by the south church wall
                        And six along the north.
                        Two by two my dozen friends --
                        To tell the number right --
                        Praying with me to move the King
                        Who gives the sun its light.


                        St Manach's Shrine
                        http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
                        ns_shrine.htm
                        or
                        http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


                        St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
                        (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
                        ---------------------------------------------------
                        Died c. 580.
                        Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
                        with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
                        chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
                        perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
                        saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

                        It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
                        should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
                        his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
                        whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
                        return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
                        after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
                        that of a prince.

                        Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
                        sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
                        table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
                        followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
                        subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
                        hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
                        there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
                        made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
                        marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
                        great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
                        its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
                        patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

                        When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
                        Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
                        they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
                        enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

                        But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
                        day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
                        robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
                        the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

                        Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
                        and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
                        small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
                        cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
                        maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
                        himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
                        lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
                        had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
                        Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
                        celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
                        Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


                        Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                        Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
                        life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
                        thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
                        countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
                        Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

                        Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                        We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
                        pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
                        adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
                        martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
                        may be blessed to die in Christ.


                        Sources:
                        ========

                        Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
                        (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

                        D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
                        Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
                        useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
                        provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
                        lives of the saints.}

                        Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
                        for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

                        Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
                        Guildford: Billing & Sons.
                      • ambrois@xtra.co.nz
                        Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
                        Message 11 of 15 , Jan 23, 2011
                        • 0 Attachment
                          Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

                          =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                          * St. Guasacht of Granard
                          * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                          * St. Cadoc of Wales
                          =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


                          St. Guasacht of Granard,
                          Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
                          ----------------------------------------------------
                          4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
                          whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
                          home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
                          Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
                          helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
                          bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
                          (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
                          (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


                          St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                          ---------------------------------------
                          St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
                          Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
                          monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
                          surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
                          be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

                          About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
                          for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
                          the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
                          thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
                          spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
                          by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
                          that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

                          There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
                          explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
                          cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
                          charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
                          got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
                          was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
                          returned to supplying milk.

                          St. Manchan's shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains
                          some of his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass
                          figures, in 1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine
                          of its kind in existence today. The guardians of the shrine through
                          the centuries are the Mooney family (my ancestors!)

                          St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
                          the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
                          at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
                          bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
                          There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

                          Shrine of Saint Manchan
                          http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html
                          http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img20.gif
                          http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img21.gif



                          St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. During this time he looked
                          after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
                          and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

                          In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
                          which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
                          his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
                          grey land.
                          ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                          How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

                          In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
                          against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
                          ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
                          grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarбn, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
                          bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
                          there to Christianize it.

                          St. Ciarбn chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
                          was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
                          then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
                          St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
                          bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
                          gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
                          as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
                          with his mother in order to communicate with her.

                          St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
                          survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
                          times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
                          water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
                          ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


                          St. Manchan
                          a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
                          Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
                          By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

                          I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
                          Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
                          carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
                          glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
                          us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
                          the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
                          promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
                          grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
                          enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
                          more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
                          the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
                          glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
                          people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
                          could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
                          it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

                          The Grey Land

                          I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
                          evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
                          vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
                          limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
                          the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
                          Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
                          yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
                          the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
                          voluble.

                          I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
                          heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
                          then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
                          of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
                          human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
                          some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
                          and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
                          vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
                          of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
                          merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
                          Saint's day.

                          The Saint's Cow

                          They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
                          all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
                          Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
                          whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
                          saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
                          watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
                          stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
                          home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
                          backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
                          inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
                          down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
                          passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
                          marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
                          has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
                          of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
                          Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

                          In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
                          started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
                          stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
                          carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
                          struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
                          She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
                          on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
                          supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
                          Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
                          never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
                          grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

                          The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
                          Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
                          from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
                          Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
                          looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
                          the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
                          and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
                          vowed never to speak to a woman!

                          A Famous Shrine

                          Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
                          zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
                          groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
                          saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
                          of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
                          wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
                          times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
                          ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                          St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
                          desire of the green martyrs:

                          Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
                          Son of the living God!-
                          A small hut in a lonesome spot
                          To make it my abode.
                          A little pool but very clear
                          To stand beside the place
                          Where all men's sins are washed away
                          By sanctifying grace.
                          A pleasant woodland all about
                          To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
                          And make a home for singing birds
                          Before it and behind.
                          A southern aspect for the heat
                          A stream along its foot,
                          A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
                          Propitious to all fruit.
                          My choice of men to live with me
                          And pray to God as well;
                          Quiet men of humble mind --
                          Their number I shall tell.
                          Four files of three or three of four
                          To give the Psalter forth;
                          Six to pray by the south church wall
                          And six along the north.
                          Two by two my dozen friends --
                          To tell the number right --
                          Praying with me to move the King
                          Who gives the sun its light.


                          St Manach's Shrine
                          http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
                          ns_shrine.htm
                          or
                          http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


                          St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
                          (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
                          ---------------------------------------------------
                          Died c. 580.
                          Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
                          with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
                          chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
                          perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
                          saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

                          It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
                          should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
                          his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
                          whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
                          return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
                          after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
                          that of a prince.

                          Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
                          sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
                          table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
                          followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
                          subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
                          hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
                          there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
                          made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
                          marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
                          great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
                          its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
                          patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

                          When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
                          Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
                          they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
                          enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

                          But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
                          day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
                          robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
                          the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

                          Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
                          and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
                          small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
                          cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
                          maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
                          himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
                          lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
                          had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
                          Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
                          celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
                          Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


                          Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                          Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
                          life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
                          thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
                          countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
                          Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

                          Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                          We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
                          pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
                          adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
                          martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
                          may be blessed to die in Christ.


                          Sources:
                          ========

                          Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
                          (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

                          D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
                          Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
                          useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
                          provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
                          lives of the saints.}

                          Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
                          for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

                          Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
                          Guildford: Billing & Sons.
                        • ambrois@xtra.co.nz
                          Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
                          Message 12 of 15 , Jan 24, 2012
                          • 0 Attachment
                            Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

                            =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                            * St. Guasacht of Granard
                            * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                            * St. Cadoc of Wales
                            =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


                            St. Guasacht of Granard,
                            Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
                            ----------------------------------------------------
                            4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
                            whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
                            home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
                            Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
                            helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
                            bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
                            (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
                            (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


                            St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                            ---------------------------------------
                            St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
                            Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
                            monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
                            surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
                            be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

                            About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
                            for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
                            the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
                            thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
                            spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
                            by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
                            that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

                            There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
                            explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
                            cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
                            charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
                            got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
                            was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
                            returned to supplying milk.

                            St. Manchan's shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains
                            some of his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass
                            figures, in 1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine
                            of its kind in existence today. The guardians of the shrine through
                            the centuries are the Mooney family (my ancestors!)

                            St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
                            the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
                            at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
                            bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
                            There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

                            Shrine of Saint Manchan
                            http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html
                            http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img20.gif
                            http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img21.gif



                            St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. During this time he looked
                            after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
                            and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

                            In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
                            which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
                            his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
                            grey land.
                            ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                            How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

                            In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
                            against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
                            ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
                            grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarбn, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
                            bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
                            there to Christianize it.

                            St. Ciarбn chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
                            was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
                            then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
                            St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
                            bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
                            gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
                            as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
                            with his mother in order to communicate with her.

                            St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
                            survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
                            times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
                            water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
                            ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


                            St. Manchan
                            a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
                            Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
                            By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

                            I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
                            Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
                            carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
                            glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
                            us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
                            the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
                            promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
                            grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
                            enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
                            more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
                            the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
                            glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
                            people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
                            could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
                            it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

                            The Grey Land

                            I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
                            evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
                            vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
                            limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
                            the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
                            Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
                            yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
                            the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
                            voluble.

                            I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
                            heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
                            then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
                            of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
                            human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
                            some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
                            and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
                            vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
                            of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
                            merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
                            Saint's day.

                            The Saint's Cow

                            They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
                            all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
                            Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
                            whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
                            saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
                            watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
                            stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
                            home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
                            backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
                            inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
                            down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
                            passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
                            marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
                            has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
                            of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
                            Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

                            In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
                            started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
                            stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
                            carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
                            struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
                            She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
                            on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
                            supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
                            Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
                            never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
                            grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

                            The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
                            Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
                            from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
                            Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
                            looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
                            the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
                            and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
                            vowed never to speak to a woman!

                            A Famous Shrine

                            Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
                            zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
                            groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
                            saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
                            of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
                            wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
                            times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
                            ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                            St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
                            desire of the green martyrs:

                            Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
                            Son of the living God!-
                            A small hut in a lonesome spot
                            To make it my abode.
                            A little pool but very clear
                            To stand beside the place
                            Where all men's sins are washed away
                            By sanctifying grace.
                            A pleasant woodland all about
                            To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
                            And make a home for singing birds
                            Before it and behind.
                            A southern aspect for the heat
                            A stream along its foot,
                            A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
                            Propitious to all fruit.
                            My choice of men to live with me
                            And pray to God as well;
                            Quiet men of humble mind --
                            Their number I shall tell.
                            Four files of three or three of four
                            To give the Psalter forth;
                            Six to pray by the south church wall
                            And six along the north.
                            Two by two my dozen friends --
                            To tell the number right --
                            Praying with me to move the King
                            Who gives the sun its light.


                            St Manach's Shrine
                            http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
                            ns_shrine.htm
                            or
                            http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


                            St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
                            (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
                            ---------------------------------------------------
                            Died c. 580.
                            Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
                            with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
                            chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
                            perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
                            saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

                            It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
                            should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
                            his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
                            whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
                            return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
                            after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
                            that of a prince.

                            Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
                            sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
                            table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
                            followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
                            subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
                            hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
                            there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
                            made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
                            marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
                            great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
                            its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
                            patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

                            When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
                            Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
                            they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
                            enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

                            But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
                            day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
                            robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
                            the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

                            Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
                            and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
                            small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
                            cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
                            maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
                            himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
                            lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
                            had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
                            Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
                            celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
                            Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


                            Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                            Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
                            life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
                            thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
                            countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
                            Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

                            Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                            We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
                            pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
                            adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
                            martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
                            may be blessed to die in Christ.


                            Sources:
                            ========

                            Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
                            (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

                            D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
                            Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
                            useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
                            provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
                            lives of the saints.}

                            Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
                            for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

                            Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
                            Guildford: Billing & Sons.
                          • ambrois@xtra.co.nz
                            Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
                            Message 13 of 15 , Jan 23, 2013
                            • 0 Attachment
                              Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

                              =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                              * St. Guasacht of Granard
                              * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                              * St. Cadoc of Wales
                              =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


                              St. Guasacht of Granard,
                              Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
                              ----------------------------------------------------
                              4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
                              whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
                              home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
                              Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
                              helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
                              bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
                              (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
                              (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


                              St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                              ---------------------------------------
                              St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
                              Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
                              monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
                              surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
                              be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

                              About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
                              for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
                              the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
                              thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
                              spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
                              by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
                              that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

                              There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
                              explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
                              cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
                              charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
                              got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
                              was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
                              returned to supplying milk.

                              St. Manchan's shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains
                              some of his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass
                              figures, in 1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine
                              of its kind in existence today. The guardians of the shrine through
                              the centuries are the Mooney family (my ancestors!)

                              St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
                              the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
                              at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
                              bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
                              There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

                              Shrine of Saint Manchan
                              http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html
                              http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img20.gif
                              http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img21.gif



                              St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. During this time he looked
                              after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
                              and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

                              In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
                              which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
                              his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
                              grey land.
                              ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                              How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

                              In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
                              against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
                              ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
                              grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarбn, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
                              bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
                              there to Christianize it.

                              St. Ciarбn chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
                              was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
                              then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
                              St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
                              bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
                              gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
                              as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
                              with his mother in order to communicate with her.

                              St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
                              survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
                              times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
                              water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
                              ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


                              St. Manchan
                              a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
                              Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
                              By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

                              I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
                              Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
                              carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
                              glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
                              us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
                              the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
                              promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
                              grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
                              enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
                              more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
                              the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
                              glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
                              people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
                              could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
                              it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

                              The Grey Land

                              I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
                              evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
                              vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
                              limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
                              the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
                              Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
                              yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
                              the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
                              voluble.

                              I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
                              heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
                              then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
                              of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
                              human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
                              some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
                              and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
                              vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
                              of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
                              merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
                              Saint's day.

                              The Saint's Cow

                              They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
                              all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
                              Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
                              whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
                              saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
                              watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
                              stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
                              home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
                              backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
                              inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
                              down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
                              passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
                              marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
                              has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
                              of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
                              Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

                              In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
                              started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
                              stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
                              carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
                              struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
                              She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
                              on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
                              supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
                              Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
                              never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
                              grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

                              The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
                              Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
                              from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
                              Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
                              looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
                              the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
                              and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
                              vowed never to speak to a woman!

                              A Famous Shrine

                              Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
                              zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
                              groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
                              saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
                              of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
                              wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
                              times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
                              ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                              St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
                              desire of the green martyrs:

                              Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
                              Son of the living God!-
                              A small hut in a lonesome spot
                              To make it my abode.
                              A little pool but very clear
                              To stand beside the place
                              Where all men's sins are washed away
                              By sanctifying grace.
                              A pleasant woodland all about
                              To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
                              And make a home for singing birds
                              Before it and behind.
                              A southern aspect for the heat
                              A stream along its foot,
                              A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
                              Propitious to all fruit.
                              My choice of men to live with me
                              And pray to God as well;
                              Quiet men of humble mind --
                              Their number I shall tell.
                              Four files of three or three of four
                              To give the Psalter forth;
                              Six to pray by the south church wall
                              And six along the north.
                              Two by two my dozen friends --
                              To tell the number right --
                              Praying with me to move the King
                              Who gives the sun its light.


                              St Manach's Shrine
                              http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
                              ns_shrine.htm
                              or
                              http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


                              St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
                              (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
                              ---------------------------------------------------
                              Died c. 580.
                              Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
                              with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
                              chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
                              perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
                              saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

                              It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
                              should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
                              his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
                              whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
                              return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
                              after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
                              that of a prince.

                              Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
                              sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
                              table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
                              followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
                              subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
                              hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
                              there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
                              made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
                              marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
                              great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
                              its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
                              patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

                              When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
                              Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
                              they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
                              enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

                              But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
                              day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
                              robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
                              the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

                              Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
                              and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
                              small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
                              cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
                              maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
                              himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
                              lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
                              had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
                              Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
                              celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
                              Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


                              Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                              Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
                              life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
                              thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
                              countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
                              Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

                              Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                              We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
                              pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
                              adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
                              martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
                              may be blessed to die in Christ.


                              Sources:
                              ========

                              Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
                              (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

                              D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
                              Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
                              useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
                              provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
                              lives of the saints.}

                              Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
                              for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

                              Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
                              Guildford: Billing & Sons.
                            • ambrois@xtra.co.nz
                              Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
                              Message 14 of 15 , Jan 23, 2014
                              • 0 Attachment
                                Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

                                =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                                * St. Guasacht of Granard
                                * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                                * St. Cadoc of Wales
                                =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


                                St. Guasacht of Granard,
                                Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
                                ----------------------------------------------------
                                4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
                                whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
                                home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
                                Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
                                helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
                                bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
                                (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
                                (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


                                St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                                ---------------------------------------
                                St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
                                Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
                                monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
                                surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
                                be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

                                About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
                                for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
                                the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
                                thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
                                spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
                                by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
                                that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

                                There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
                                explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
                                cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
                                charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
                                got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
                                was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
                                returned to supplying milk.

                                St. Manchan's shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains
                                some of his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass
                                figures, in 1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine
                                of its kind in existence today. The guardians of the shrine through
                                the centuries are the Mooney family (my ancestors!)

                                St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
                                the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
                                at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
                                bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
                                There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

                                Shrine of Saint Manchan
                                http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html
                                http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img20.gif
                                http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img21.gif



                                St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. During this time he looked
                                after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
                                and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

                                In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
                                which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
                                his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
                                grey land.
                                ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                                How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

                                In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
                                against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
                                ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
                                grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarбn, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
                                bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
                                there to Christianize it.

                                St. Ciarбn chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
                                was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
                                then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
                                St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
                                bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
                                gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
                                as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
                                with his mother in order to communicate with her.

                                St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
                                survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
                                times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
                                water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
                                ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


                                St. Manchan
                                a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
                                Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
                                By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

                                I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
                                Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
                                carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
                                glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
                                us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
                                the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
                                promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
                                grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
                                enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
                                more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
                                the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
                                glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
                                people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
                                could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
                                it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

                                The Grey Land

                                I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
                                evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
                                vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
                                limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
                                the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
                                Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
                                yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
                                the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
                                voluble.

                                I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
                                heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
                                then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
                                of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
                                human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
                                some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
                                and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
                                vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
                                of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
                                merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
                                Saint's day.

                                The Saint's Cow

                                They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
                                all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
                                Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
                                whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
                                saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
                                watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
                                stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
                                home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
                                backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
                                inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
                                down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
                                passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
                                marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
                                has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
                                of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
                                Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

                                In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
                                started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
                                stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
                                carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
                                struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
                                She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
                                on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
                                supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
                                Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
                                never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
                                grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

                                The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
                                Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
                                from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
                                Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
                                looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
                                the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
                                and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
                                vowed never to speak to a woman!

                                A Famous Shrine

                                Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
                                zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
                                groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
                                saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
                                of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
                                wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
                                times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
                                ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                                St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
                                desire of the green martyrs:

                                Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
                                Son of the living God!-
                                A small hut in a lonesome spot
                                To make it my abode.
                                A little pool but very clear
                                To stand beside the place
                                Where all men's sins are washed away
                                By sanctifying grace.
                                A pleasant woodland all about
                                To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
                                And make a home for singing birds
                                Before it and behind.
                                A southern aspect for the heat
                                A stream along its foot,
                                A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
                                Propitious to all fruit.
                                My choice of men to live with me
                                And pray to God as well;
                                Quiet men of humble mind --
                                Their number I shall tell.
                                Four files of three or three of four
                                To give the Psalter forth;
                                Six to pray by the south church wall
                                And six along the north.
                                Two by two my dozen friends --
                                To tell the number right --
                                Praying with me to move the King
                                Who gives the sun its light.


                                St Manach's Shrine
                                http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
                                ns_shrine.htm
                                or
                                http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


                                St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
                                (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
                                ---------------------------------------------------
                                Died c. 580.
                                Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
                                with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
                                chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
                                perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
                                saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

                                It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
                                should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
                                his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
                                whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
                                return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
                                after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
                                that of a prince.

                                Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
                                sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
                                table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
                                followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
                                subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
                                hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
                                there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
                                made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
                                marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
                                great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
                                its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
                                patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

                                When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
                                Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
                                they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
                                enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

                                But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
                                day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
                                robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
                                the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

                                Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
                                and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
                                small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
                                cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
                                maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
                                himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
                                lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
                                had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
                                Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
                                celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
                                Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


                                Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                                Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
                                life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
                                thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
                                countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
                                Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

                                Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                                We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
                                pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
                                adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
                                martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
                                may be blessed to die in Christ.


                                Sources:
                                ========

                                Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
                                (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

                                D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
                                Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
                                useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
                                provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
                                lives of the saints.}

                                Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
                                for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

                                Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
                                Guildford: Billing & Sons.
                              • ambrois@xtra.co.nz
                                Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= * St. Guasacht of Granard * St. Manach of Lemonaghan * St.
                                Message 15 of 15 , Jan 23, 2014
                                • 0 Attachment
                                  Celtic and Old English Saints 24 January

                                  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                                  * St. Guasacht of Granard
                                  * St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                                  * St. Cadoc of Wales
                                  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


                                  St. Guasacht of Granard,
                                  Bishop in Ireland, Son of Saint Patrick's former master
                                  ----------------------------------------------------
                                  4th century. Guasacht was the son of Maelchu (Miluic), the master under
                                  whom Saint Patrick worked as a slave in Ireland. Maelchu set fire to his
                                  home, locked the doors, and perished in the flames rather than meet
                                  Patrick again. Guasacht, however, was converted by Patrick, whom he
                                  helped in the evangelization of Ireland, both as a layman and later as
                                  bishop of Granard (County Longford). His two sisters, known as the Emers
                                  (f.d. December 11), also became Christians and lived as monastics
                                  (Benedictines, D'Arcy, Montague).


                                  St. Manach of Lemonaghan
                                  ---------------------------------------
                                  St. Manchan lived in Leamonaghan, it is about two kilometres from
                                  Pollagh. St. Kieran of Clonmacnoise gave him some land and he formed a
                                  monastery in the year 645 AD. Nothing now remains but the ruins and the
                                  surrounding graveyard. The foundations of the original buildings may still
                                  be traced but the larger ruins are those of a church built at a later date.

                                  About 500m from the monastery is a little stone house which Monchan built
                                  for his mother Mella. This place is known locally as Kell and the ruins of
                                  the house can still be visited today. It is said that one day the saint was
                                  thirsty and there was no water at the monastery. He struck a rock and a
                                  spring well bubbled up, it is now known as St. Manahan's well. It is visited
                                  by people from all around especially on January 24 each year. It is claimed
                                  that many people have been cured of diseases after visiting the well.

                                  There are many stories about the saint. One of the most famous of them
                                  explains why the people of Lemonaghan will not sell milk. St. Manchan had a
                                  cow that used to give milk to the whole country side for which there was no
                                  charge. The cow became famous and the neighbouring people of Kill-Managhan
                                  got jealous and stole his cow. When St. Manchan eventually found his cow it
                                  was dead, he struck it with a stick and the cow came back to life and
                                  returned to supplying milk.

                                  St. Manchan's shrine was made in 1130 AD in Clonmacnoise, it contains
                                  some of his bones including the femur. On the shrine are placed brass
                                  figures, in 1838 it was placed in Boher church. It is the largest shrine
                                  of its kind in existence today. The guardians of the shrine through
                                  the centuries are the Mooney family (my ancestors!)

                                  St Manchan's Shrine is preserved in Boher church, near-by. This shrine is
                                  the largest and most magnificent ancient reliquary in Ireland and was made
                                  at Clonmacnois about AD 1130. It is a gabled box of yew wood with gilt,
                                  bronze, and enamelled fittings. It still contains the relics of the saint.
                                  There are ten remaining figures of a possible 50 or 52 on the cover.

                                  Shrine of Saint Manchan
                                  http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/page5.html
                                  http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img20.gif
                                  http://www.ardaghdiocese.org/img21.gif



                                  St. Manchan lived in Lemonaghan for 19 years. During this time he looked
                                  after the spiritual needs of the locality. He waas known for his kindness
                                  and generosity, his wisdom and his knowledge of sacred scripture.

                                  In 664 AD he became ill and was struck down by the yellow plague a disease
                                  which desolated Ireland at the time. He died and wad buried locally. After
                                  his death the place became known as 'Liath Manchan', which means Manchan's
                                  grey land.
                                  ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

                                  How St. Manchan came to Lemonaghan

                                  In 644, Diarmuid, High King of Ireland was on his way to fight a battle
                                  against Guaire, the King of Connaught, when he stopped off at Clonmacnois to
                                  ask the monks for their prayers for his success. Having won the battle, a
                                  grateful Diarmuid granted Ciarбn, abbot of Clonmacnois, the "island in the
                                  bog" which we now know as Lemonaghan, provided that he send one of his monks
                                  there to Christianize it.

                                  St. Ciarбn chose St. Manchan for the mission. The thriving community that
                                  was already on the island were converted to Christianity by St. Manchan. He
                                  then went on to establish a monastery there. He built a cell for his mother,
                                  St. Mella, in an adjoining piece of high ground, and the intervening bog was
                                  bridged by a togher or walkway made from sandstone laid on brushwood and
                                  gravel. St. Manchan is alleged to have taken a vow never to look at a woman
                                  as part of his orders, so he is supposed to have had to sit back to back
                                  with his mother in order to communicate with her.

                                  St. Manchan had many followers at Lemonaghan and ancient headstones still
                                  survive from the era. St. Manchan's well was used for cures since pagan
                                  times, and continues to be used for a variety of cures today, as is the holy
                                  water font in the ruined church in the graveyard.
                                  ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤


                                  St. Manchan
                                  a visit to a historic Offaly centre Monday, 24th January
                                  Midland Tribune 27th April 1935
                                  By Tomas O'Cleirigh, M.A., National Museum.

                                  I was in the little two-horse train which labours west from Clara to
                                  Banagher and the outlook was desolate. There was another chap in the
                                  carriage. He sat hunched up in the corner with his nose to the window. One
                                  glance convinced me that it was useless to say anything and there the two of
                                  us kept on staring rather lovingly at a wilderness of bog stretching away to
                                  the Slieve Bloom Mountains. It seemed to me that there was a kind of
                                  promised land on the other side. On past a few scattered farm houses some
                                  grey boulders and the ruins of a church. I found myself thinking dismally
                                  enough of the tourists. After all what do they get? Just ruins, ruins and
                                  more ruins- the saddest ruins in Europe. Then suddenly I heard my friend of
                                  the opposite corner speak in a mournful kind of way with his nose still
                                  glued to the window - "That's Leamanaghan, a quare kind of place, decent
                                  people, too, the best in the world, people who'd give you all the milk you
                                  could drink but wouldn't sell a drop of it for all the gold in Ireland and
                                  it's all by raison of a cow, saint Manchan's cow."

                                  The Grey Land

                                  I went through a storm of real Irish rain to see Leamanaghan that very
                                  evening. It is four miles from Ferbane in County Offaly and hidden away in a
                                  vast bog region which is dotted with scattered boulders of magnesian
                                  limestone. The general depression is summed up in the name - Liath Manchan -
                                  the grey land of Manchan. Aye! The grey, lonely, chill land of Manchan. St.
                                  Manchan lived here and died in A.D. 664. That might have been only
                                  yesterday, however as far as the good neighbours are concerned because he is
                                  the one subject over which every man, woman and child can get really
                                  voluble.

                                  I was taken to see the ruins of his church and then down to his well and
                                  heard how when you are sick should pray here, walk three times round it and
                                  then, go back and leave a little present for the saint himself in the window
                                  of the church. He had quite a good collection when I was there - a strangely
                                  human and pathetic little collection among which I noticed a girl's brooch,
                                  some small religious articles, a boy's penknife, a G.A.A. footballer's medal
                                  and strangest gift of all for a saint of Manchan's calibre - a demure little
                                  vanity box! After that I was told that on the 24th January when all the rest
                                  of the world works, the people of Leamanaghan just take a holiday and make
                                  merry because it would be the unpardonable sin to think of work on their
                                  Saint's day.

                                  The Saint's Cow

                                  They have all kinds of stories about the good saint but the best one of them
                                  all explains why Leamanaghan people don't sell milk. Here it is -
                                  Saint Manchan had a cow - a wonderful cow that used to give milk to the
                                  whole countryside - good, rich milk for which no charge was ever made by the
                                  saint. Then, the people of the neighbouring Kill Managhan got jealous and
                                  watched and there chance. One fine day when Manchan was absent they came and
                                  stole the cow and started to drive her along the togher through the bog back
                                  home to Kill Managhan. The good cow, suspecting something was wrong, went
                                  backwards and most unwillingly, fighting, struggling and disputing every
                                  inch of the way. Now she'd slip designedly on the stones: again she'd lie
                                  down but every where she went, she managed to leave some trace of her rough
                                  passage on the stones of the togher. The marks are there to this day, - hoof
                                  marks, tail marks - every kind of marks and the chef-d'oeuvre of them all
                                  has a place of honour at the entrance to the little school. Alas! In spite
                                  of that very gallant resistance, the cow was finally driven to Kill
                                  Managhan. There, horrible to say, she was killed and skinned.

                                  In the meantime, the saint returned, missed his cow, and straightaway
                                  started in pursuit. He succeeded in tracing the thieves by the marks on the
                                  stones and arrived just at the moment when she was about to be boiled. He
                                  carefully picked the portions out of the cauldron pieced them together,
                                  struck at them with his stick and immediately the cow became alive again.
                                  She was every bit as good as ever, too, except that she was a wee bit lame
                                  on account of one small portion of a foot which was lost. She continued to
                                  supply the milk as before, and, of course, no charge was made by the saint.
                                  Ever since the famous custom still lives on, and good milk is given away but
                                  never gold by the loyal people of Leamanaghan. Now, can any lover of the
                                  grand faith of Medievaldom beat that?

                                  The very old vellum books state that Manchan of Liath was like unto
                                  Hieronomus in habits and learning. I can well believe it. Some distance away
                                  from the church is the little rectangle cell which he built for his mother -
                                  Saint Mella. Cold, austere and with no window, you get the shivers by even
                                  looking at it. There is also a large flag-stone on the togher leading from
                                  the well, and they say the saint and his mother used to meet here every day
                                  and sit down back to back without speaking a word because the saint had
                                  vowed never to speak to a woman!

                                  A Famous Shrine

                                  Leamanaghan people are, I gather, a tenacious class. Not only have they so
                                  zealously guarded the cow tradition but they have succeeded, despite the
                                  groans of sundry learned antiquarians, in still keeping in their midst the
                                  saint's precious shrine. It has a special altar all to itself in the church
                                  of Boher. But the first thing I noticed when I went along to see it was a
                                  wonderful green in a Harry Clarke window. The shrine itself has been many
                                  times described, notably so by the Rev James Graves in 1875.
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                                  St. Manchan is credited with writing a poem in Irish that describes the
                                  desire of the green martyrs:

                                  Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find-
                                  Son of the living God!-
                                  A small hut in a lonesome spot
                                  To make it my abode.
                                  A little pool but very clear
                                  To stand beside the place
                                  Where all men's sins are washed away
                                  By sanctifying grace.
                                  A pleasant woodland all about
                                  To shield it (the hut) from the wind,
                                  And make a home for singing birds
                                  Before it and behind.
                                  A southern aspect for the heat
                                  A stream along its foot,
                                  A smooth green lawn with rich top soil
                                  Propitious to all fruit.
                                  My choice of men to live with me
                                  And pray to God as well;
                                  Quiet men of humble mind --
                                  Their number I shall tell.
                                  Four files of three or three of four
                                  To give the Psalter forth;
                                  Six to pray by the south church wall
                                  And six along the north.
                                  Two by two my dozen friends --
                                  To tell the number right --
                                  Praying with me to move the King
                                  Who gives the sun its light.


                                  St Manach's Shrine
                                  http://www.offalyhistory.com/content/reading_resources/books_articles/mancha
                                  ns_shrine.htm
                                  or
                                  http://tinyurl.com/43qwo


                                  St. Cadoc, Cadoc, Bishop and Martyr of Llancarvan, Wales
                                  (Docus, Cathmael, Cadvael, Codocus)
                                  ---------------------------------------------------
                                  Died c. 580.
                                  Cadoc was the son of a robber, one of the lesser kings of Wales, who
                                  with an armed band of 300 men had stolen the daughter of a neighbouring
                                  chieftain for his wife. In this ugly episode 200 of his followers
                                  perished, and out of this unpromising union was born Cadoc, the Welsh
                                  saint, founder of the monastery of Llancarvan.

                                  It is hardly credible that form so wild and barbarous a background
                                  should have come such a gentle and enlightened prince, but fortunately
                                  his erratic and impulsive father placed him in the care of an Irish monk
                                  whose cow he had stolen and who had been bold enough to demand its
                                  return. From this good man Cadoc learned the rudiments of Latin, and
                                  after pursuing his studies in Ireland, preferred the life of a priest to
                                  that of a prince.

                                  Stories are told of how one day in his poverty, during a famine, when he
                                  sat with his books in his cell, a white mouse ran suddenly on to the
                                  table from a hole in the wall and put down a grain of corn. Cadoc
                                  followed it and found in the cellar beneath him an old Celtic
                                  subterranean granary stacked with grain. It is also said that once he
                                  hid himself in a wood from an armed swineherd of an enemy tribe, and
                                  there came a wild boar, white with age, who, disturbed by his presence,
                                  made three fierce bounds in his direction and then disappeared. Cadoc
                                  marked the spot with three tree branches, and it became the site of his
                                  great church and abbey of Llancarvan. He himself took an active part in
                                  its building, and it became a busy centre of industry, "The best of
                                  patriots," he said, "is he who tills the soil."

                                  When, on one occasion, a band of robbers came to pillage the monastery,
                                  Cadoc and his monks went out to meet them with their harps, chanting as
                                  they went, and the marauders were so surprised by their attitude and so
                                  enchanted by the music that they withdrew.

                                  But the best story is that of his parents' conversion. It was a happy
                                  day when by the river they made public profession of their faith. The
                                  robber king had found his Saviour, and father and son together recited
                                  the Psalm: "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble."

                                  Cadoc later took refuge from the Anglo-Saxons in the Isle of Flatholmes,
                                  and then in Brittany, where he established another monastery upon a
                                  small island to which he built a stone bridge so that the children could
                                  cross to his school. Finally he returned to Britain and, obeying his own
                                  maxim: "Would you find glory? March to the grave," deliberately cut
                                  himself off from the shelter of his own monastery of Llancarvan, and
                                  lived among the Saxon settlements to console the native Christians who
                                  had survived the massacres of the pagan invaders. This was at Weedon in
                                  Northamptonshire, and there he met with a martyr's death. While
                                  celebrating the Eucharist one day, the service was rudely disturbed by
                                  Saxon horsemen, and Cadoc was slain as he served at the altar (Gill).


                                  Troparion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                                  Having been raised to piety, O Hierarch Cadoc,/ thou didst dedicate thy
                                  life to God,/ serving Him in the monastic state./ As with joyful heart
                                  thou didst fulfil thy daily obedience,/ caring for the earthly needs of
                                  countless paupers,/ look now upon our spiritual poverty/ and beseech
                                  Christ our God,/ that He will grant us great mercy.

                                  Kontakion of St Cadoc Tone 5
                                  We honour thee with hymns, O righteous Hierarch Cadoc,/ for the
                                  pilgrimage of thy life was found pleasing to God,/ Who in His goodness
                                  adorned thee with authority,/ and as thou didst receive the crown of
                                  martyrdom,/ whilst serving the Holy Mysteries,/ pray for us that we also
                                  may be blessed to die in Christ.


                                  Sources:
                                  ========

                                  Benedictine Monks of St. Augustine Abbey, Ramsgate.
                                  (1947). The Book of Saints. NY: Macmillan.

                                  D'Arcy, M. R. (1974). The Saints of Ireland. Saint Paul, Minnesota:
                                  Irish American Cultural Institute. [This is probably the most
                                  useful book to choose to own on the Irish saints. The author
                                  provides a great deal of historical context in which to place the
                                  lives of the saints.}

                                  Gill, F. C. (1958). The Glorious Company: Lives of Great Christians
                                  for Daily Devotion, vol. I. London: Epworth Press.

                                  Montague, H. P. (1981). The Saints and Martyrs of Ireland.
                                  Guildford: Billing & Sons.
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