Hill of Slane

The Hill of Slane, easily accessible, provides a vantage point from which to view a landscape containing some of Ireland's most historic sites.

There is much to stimulate the imagination and to speculate about concerning the hill itself.

Did Dagobert 11, King of Austrasia in Gaul 674 - 687 AD, spend his childhood being educated in the safety of the monastry of Slane, as oral tradition holds?

for more on Dagobert click here ( and go to page 55 ).

Who was Ochre, who, according to one medieval source, had a rath in Slane?

Was it Richard, Duke of York, Lord Leiutenant of Ireland 1447 - 1460, who had the arms of England and France planted in the walls of the monastry here?

The Friary and Collage The ruined buildings on the top of the Hill of Slane are remains of a 1512 reconstruction of the old monastry which the Fleming family re-built for the Franciscans. The church has a fine west tower, about 19m high, with an earlier gothic-style window. The collage, a separate building forming a quadrangle, housed four priests, four lay brothers and four choristers. Look for a number of carved heads and gargoyles. The Fleming arms are on the west wall of the quadrangle, and over the entrance in the southwest wall are the arms of England and France, referred to above. The friary was dissolved only 30 years later as the Reformation took effect in Ireland. In 1631 the Flemings tried again to restore it, but in less than 20 years the newly-installed Capuchin monks were driven out by Cromwell. It was finally abandoned as a place of worship in 1723.

The Hill of Slane

God be with you, Hill of Slane
Where we played many a childish game
Where holy Patrick's fire had burned
And Pagans into Christians turned
The same old hill you are today
When Saint Patrick came that way
Tho far from you across the main
I love you still, sweet Hill of Slane

And from the summit one can view
The Hill of Skryne and Tara too
I love your ruins, your buildings all
Your tree so green, your ivied wall
Your little graveyard by your side
Is the resting place of my friends who died,
That's the reason that it gives me pain,
I love you so sweet Hill of Slane

With the little town of Slane so near
If you could only speak 'twould hear
Yet in silent words you speak that past
A story that will ever last
Yes,you tell that story well
Of Ireland's saints, of shot and shell
To gaze on you, you say quite plain
"Great Irishmen", sweet Hill of Slane

A warm spot there is in my heart,
For you sweet Slane. Why did we part?
But fate alas! Has deemed it so
But still no matter where I go
I've one hope left, my heart does burn
But once again I will return,
And wander up that narrow lane,
To the lovely ruins of the Hill of Slane

And, as the Boyne goes rolling on,
To mingle with the sea at last,
So, like the Boyne, time rolls for me
When I shall gaze once more on thee,
And mingle with the loved ones there
Then I'll feel free from every care,
And when death comes to end all pain,
Just let me rest, sweet Hill of Slane

T. Weldon emigrated to America and died there - but sent home these verses.

The Bishop's Tomb

The original monastry on the top of the Hill of Slane is believed to have been founded by St. Erc.

In the graveyard two stones shaped like gabel-ends ar the remains of a tomb or reliquary of great antiquity known as Erc's Tomb or the Bishop;s Tomb.

more at www.sainterc.com

The Holy Hill of Slane

In a foreign land a big brass band, struck up "St. Patrick's Day"

And memory brought me back again, to the old land far away.

And failed not to remind me, I might never see again

The friends I left behind me, on the holy Hill of Slane.

I saw the lordly mansion, built high with granite stone

And the little mud walled cabin, on the hillside there alone

Where father died and mother cried, till her heart nigh burst in twain

Where her children three prayed round her knee, on the holy Hill of Slane

Oh those were the days with no hopeful rays, to cheer the lowly heart

With the famine nigh and dissention high, our land was torn apart

When women's tears ran on for years and prayer seemed all in vain

Till brave men rose and crushed our foes, on the holy Hill of Slane

Oh, remembrance dear, you're oft severe, there are things we would forget

But the blood of old will ne'er run cold, our land will prosper yet

No foreign crown can hold us down, too long we've borne the stain

Tho' the great God knows we've spurned our foes, round the holy Hill of Slane

St.Patrick's smile still lights our Isle, the paschal fire remains

And Christian men have won again from Saxon hordes and Danes

With fervent love for God above, in sorrow and in pain

They bent their knee to the sacred three, on the holy Hill of Slane

The spitit of St.Patrick is there to guide you on

Though foreign greed took hold of Meath and Tara's kings are gone

But the faith is there in the Irish air, and ever will remain

Oh we'el ne,er forget what Patrick taught on the holy Hill of Slane.

Seamus O'Brien - Meath Chronicle August 1932

The Paschal Fire

There is only oral tradition to support the legend that St. Patrick lit the fir on the Hill of Slane to celebrate Easter in the year 433 AD.

Patrick's fire challenged the Pagan law that forbade the lighting of any other fire while the festive fire at Tara still burned.

Tradition also says that the Hymn, "Be Thou My Vision " was first sung by St.Patrick on the Hill of Slane.

Erc supported Patrick against the druids, and the High King Laoghaire allowed Patrick to continue his work of preaching christianity throughout Ireland.

Slane Abbey

Attend each true Milesian unto this week narration
Whilse in disconsolation I ponder for a while,
In silent meditation, to peruse the elevation,
Likewise the ruination of this religious pile;
The abbey once respected, alas! now stands neglected
I really did inspect it, which does increase my pain,
That man's degeneration, and Erin's degradation,
Which leaves depopulated the ancient Church of Slane.

'Twas in the fourth century in this delightful country,
After St. Patrick's entry upon our fertile shore,
He raised this grand foundation, the wonder of our nation
That's held in veneration, and will till time's no more.
In fact it's only stated that he had consecrated,
St. Erc, then related to Tara's noble train.
And history does mention, he got St. Patrick's sanction,
To rule this holy mansion, that's on the hill of Slane.

One thousand years and better, this spot advanced letters
'Till Erin she in fetters, alas! then she was bound;
Then British spoilators, and vile assassinators,
Did basely ruinate her, and nearly dragged her down.
And left us but a sample to show that they did trample
To follow their example, perhaps they would us blame,
But we are not lost in slumber, and our men cannot be numbered
That won't cry out like thunder, revenge the church of Slane.

Learning here had flourished, religion is was nourished,
The stranger here was cherished and always found relief;
Men of the highest station came here for education,
From France that brilliant nation, Dagobert the Chief,
Literature so blased, that mankind stood amazed
And nations in awe gazed, at such number that came,
To this spot so delighting, their manner for to brighten,
And talents to enlighten upon the Hill of Slane.

The Friary and Collage

The Bishop's Tomb

The Paschal Fire