he south side. There may have been other
buildings on the west side, as the walls are broken at the ends; but if
so, they are now removed.[201] The church was an oblong structure,
divided into nave and choir, and had a northern aisle extending along
both. At a distance of about 30 feet north of the convent church stand
the ruins of another building, said to have been the parish church. It
was a simple oblong chamber, and was dedicated to St. Ronan.[202] Lovely
carved work has been found around the buildings, and these are carefully
preserved and have been reproduced in illustration.[203] These designs
were probably carved on stone from the beautiful illuminated tracery
which the Celtic monks executed in their scriptorium.

No ruthless destruction about the Reformation period could deprive Iona
of its three great voices of the mountain, the sky, and the sea. That
St. Columba's poetic nature and susceptible heart were impressed by them
is beyond doubt, for they survive in his poem--

Delightful would it be to me to be in Uchd Ailiun
On the pinnacle of a rock,
That I might often see
The face of the ocean:
That I might see its heaving waves
Over the wide ocean,
When they chant music to their Father
Upon the world's course:

That I might see its level sparkling strand,
It would be no cause of sorrow:
That I might hear the song of the wonderful birds,
Source of happiness:
That I might hear the thunder of the crowding waves
Upon the rocks:
That I might hear the roar by the side of the church
Of the surrounding sea:

. . . . .

That I might bless the Lord
Who conserves all,
Heaven with its countless bright orders,
Land, strand, and flood:

. . . . .

At times kneeling to beloved heaven:
At times at psalm singing:
At times contemplating the King of Heaven,
Holy the chief:
At times at work without compulsion;
This would be delightful.[204]

Thus Iona, the isle of the saints, the lamp lit amid the darkness of the
western sea, impressed the founder as he heard its voices. May there
soon be added another, the voice of the restored cathedral, connecting
the present with a glorious past, carrying us away in thought by its
architecture to earlier days, and by its situation to the hour when the
great apostle of the Picts first landed on its shores. This may at no
distant future be