The Poems of Rosa Mulholland.[4]

"Hilarius cubat hac, pictavus episcopus, urna;Defensor nostræ mirificus fidei.Illius aspectum serpentes ferre nequibant,Nescis quæ in vultu spicula sanctus habet."

Might this be, asks Father Cahier, a way of expressing the fact that the saint had banished Arianism from amongst his people?

It is elsewhere shown that the dragons of many legions may be interpreted by the overthrow and expulsion of Paganism, that is, the end of Satan's reign over hearts. The serpent seems to have had something of this symbolism in ecclesiastical monuments, except that sometimes, here or there, it probably denotes heresy instead of idolatry. (Cf. Manni,Osservazioni istoriche sopra i sigilli antichi dei secoli bassi, t. V, sigill. 15.)

Saint Pirmin, (PirminusorPirminius) travelling bishop in Germany (and a Benedictine, it is said); 3d November, 758. He is described as a bishop of Meaux, who left his see in order to go and preach the Gospel along the banks of the Rhine; and he is usuallypainted as putting a multitude of serpents to flight. (Calendar.Benedict., 3d of Nov.—Rader,Bavaria Sancta.) A sequence of Saint Gall (ap. Mone,Hymni ... media ævi, t. III., p. 482, sq.) thus describes the marvel:

"Hic Augiensem insulamDei nutu intraverat,Quam multitudo pessimaDestinebat serpentium.Intrante illo ...Statim squammosusHestinanter exercitusAufugit, ampli lacusNatatu tergusTegens per triduum."

Amongst other abbeys of his foundation, he established that of Reichenau in the island of Constance, vanishing from the island the vipers or adders which had enormously multiplied in it. The legend even goes on to say that, for three days, the surrounding water was covered with these reptiles which forsook their old abode.

Was this story the legend or the consequence of an invocation of Saint Pirmin against unwholesome drinks? Besides people recommended themselves to this saint against the plague and the consequences of dangerous food. Furthermore, his dalmatic and his cincture were considered powerful to assuage the sufferings of pregnant women. An ancient seal of Saint Pirmin is found with these two verses used in certain provinces of Germany:

"Sanctificet nostram sanctus Pirminius escam,Dextera Pirmini benedicat pocula nostra."

Saint Samson, Bishop of Dol, in Brittany; 28th of July, about 564. Some say he slew a dragon, and Father Cahier says this may be symbolic of the many victories he gained over the enemy of men. According to several, it was a serpent which he drove from a grotto on the banks of the Seine (Cf. Longueval,Histoire de l'Eglise gallicane, livre IX.)

Saint Mellon(Mélon,Mellonus,Mallonus,Mello,Melanius?) first Bishop of Rouen; 22d of October, about 214. A serpent of which his legend speaks may be only the dragon of the saints who preached the Gospel to idolatrous nations. An old office of his says:

"Manum sanat arescentemMorsum curat, et serpentemSese cogit perdere."

His legend further relates that he overthrew in the city of Rouen the idolRoth, and that the devil complained to him of the trouble he had caused in his empire. (AA. SS.Octobr., t. IX., p. 572, sq.)

Saint Cado(or Kadok, Cadout, Cadog, Catrog-Doeth, Cadvot), bishop and martyr in Brittany; 1st of November, about 580. The Bretons relate that on a little island off the coast of Vannes, between Port-Louis and Auray, he drove the serpents away and they never appeared there again (Vie des Saints de la Bretagne, p. 666). Theisland retains the name of Enis-Cadvod or Inis-Kadok, that is, the island of Saint Cado.

A Saint Paternus, bishop, whom Father Cahier cannot locate, is mentioned as having warded off the bites of serpents. He cannot say, too, but that there is more of symbolism than of real history in the story.

Saint Peregrinus, bishop, martyred at Auxerre, 16th of May, third century, driving out serpents. Though one may consider this representation a manner of expressing the earnestness he displayed in extirpating idolatry from the people of Auxerre, it is admitted that in the Nivernais country (especially at Bouhy where he took refuge), serpents are never seen. People even come to the church of that village to take earth out of a hole habitually dugad hoc; and that earth is carried away as a preservative against the bite of reptiles. It is besides regarded as an understood fact at Bouhy that a certain family there always has the figure of a serpent on the body of some one belonging to it. They are, according to the story, the descendants of a pagan, who, striving to drive the saint away by hitting him with a whip, saw the lash change into a serpent which "landed" near the rock where Saint Peregrinus had sought refuge against persecution.

Saint Honoratus of Arles, orof Lerins; 16th of January, about 430. When he retired into the island which still bears his name, near the coast of Provence, vainly was it represented to him that it was a receptacle of venomous animals. The man of God exactly wanted a shelter, a refuge from all visitors, and drove out all the serpents which had long multiplied there without any obstacle. A palm-tree is still shown there, on which, it is alleged, our saint waited until Heaven came to his aid, by having the waves sweep away all that "vermin" which had rendered the island uninhabitable until then. (Surius, 16 Januar.; and AA. SS.Januar., t. II., p. 19.) Observe that the islands of Saint-Honorat and Sainte-Marguerite are held in that country to have formed but one in olden days, which was the real Lerins, Pliny and Strabo to the contrary notwithstanding.

Saint Protus of Sardinia, priest; 25th of October, under Diocletian. He was martyred with the deacon Saint Januarius and Saint Gavinus, a soldier converted by them. Protus, exiled at first to the island ofAsinara(?)drove from it, it is said, all the venomous beasts. Many even would have it that this privilege was extended to the whole of Sardinia, for which, however, Father Cahier says he would not make himself responsible. (Cf.Hagiolog. italic., t. II., p. 256). Hence a reptile is often represented at the feet of the saint, while artists often associate him with his two companions in martyrdom. In this case they may be easily distinguished by their costumes of priest, deacon, and soldier, which indicate the profession of each.

Saint Florence of Norcia(FlorentiusorFlorentinus), monk; 23d of May, about 547. He has been confounded, rightly or wrongly, with Saint Florence of Corsica. But Saint Gregory the Great (Dialog., III., 15, ed Galliccioli, t. VI., p. 202) speaks of him only as a simple monk, and relates that he destroyed a multitude of serpents by his prayer.

Saint Florence of Glonne, priest, patron of Saumur and Roye; 22d of September, fourth century. He is sometimes said to have thrown a dragon or serpent into the Loire, but the Bas-Bretons give the credit to Saint Mein, abbot of Gaël, who lived more than a century later.

Saint Amantius of Citta-di-Castello, priest; 26th of September, towards the end of the sixth century. He became famous in his lifetime by numerous miracles, especially by delivering the people of the country in which he dwelt from serpents. (Gregor. M.,Dialog., III., 35. BrantiiMartyrol poeticum.)

Saint Julius, priest; 31st of January, about 399. The island of Orta, near Novara, was delivered by him from a quantity of serpents when he went there to build the last church he erected. According to some, these reptiles, put to flight by the holy man's blessing, plunged into the lake; others say that the serpents took refuge on Mount Camocino near there, but that they never hurt any one any more. (Labus,Fasti, 31 gennajo.—AA. SS. Januar., t. II., p. 1103.) The lake of Orta is still calledLago de san Giulio, by the people of the country around Milan.

Saint Magnus(Magnoaldus), abbot of Fuessen, and apostle of Algan; 6th of September, about 660. At Kempten this saint is credited with having expelled venomous animals; as for the dragon, he is said to have caused its death by his prayers atÆqui caput. However this may be, his staff was employed at Abthal against field rats, and in Brisgan against all kinds of insects that might injure the crops. (Cf. Wilh. Mueller,Gesch ... der altdentschen Religion, p. 113.—Calendar. benedict., 6th of Septembr.—Rader,Bavaria sancta.)

Saint Didymus, in the East. Father Cahier cannot say whether it is Didymus of Alexandria (28th of April) or Didymus of Laodicea (11th of September). Several modern German authors, copying one another, say that he is represented walking on serpents and nailed to the cross. Either, says Father Cahier, I greatly mistake, or the martyr of Laodicea, who was torn on a stake (Menolog. græc., t. I., p. 29,) is confounded with the hermit of the same name who used to walk amongst the most dangerous reptiles (scorpions, horned vipers, etc.), without ever being injured by them. (Rosweyde,Vitæ PP., p. 479.)

Saint Phocas of Antioch, in Syria, martyr; 5th March, time disputed. He is famed in the East as a signal protector against the bite of reptiles. These reptiles are often represented near the church which is dedicated to him, because it is acknowledged that they lose their venom as soon as they approach it, and that those bitten by them there recover health. (Cf.Martyrol. Rom., 5 mart.)

Saint Christopher of Lycia, martyr; 25th of July, about 560. A serpent is sometimes placed near him, either because reptiles were used without effect to torture him, or on account of some miracle due to his intercession long after his death. (AA. SS.Jul., t. VI., p. 137-139.) Father Cahier adds, in a note, if, as Servius says, the wordanguiswas used to denote reptiles which live in water, consequently amphibious animals, it becomes easier to understand that inundations may have been expressed by a dragon or a serpent; so many writers havethought, the Bollandists amongst others. So, in many cases, it may have been a symbolic picture, whose significance was lost in the lapse of time. A serpent near Saint Christopher might indicate that the saint had crossed deep water.

Saint Leontius, martyr; honored at Muri in Switzerland, as one of the soldiers of the Theban legion. A serpent is given him as attribute, with a little phial. Father Cahier says he has failed to discover the significance of the emblems.

Saint Amable of Riom, priest; 19th of October, fifth century. Near him serpents and venomous animals, because it is said that he drove all maleficent beasts out of the neighborhood of Riom.

Saint Briac, abbot; 17th of December, about 609. He banished a serpent with the sign of the cross. This saint met a man who was already stung by a dangerous reptile and fleeing from the animal, which was in pursuit of him. The servant of God, by giving his blessing, cured the wounded man and put the animal to flight. (Vies des Saints de la Bretagne.)

Saint Maudez, hermit; 18th of November, seventh century. Driving out of an island, in which he had established his hermitage, a number of reptiles that lived in the place. The custom is preserved in Brittany of using earth taken from the island as a remedy for serpents' bites. (Vies des Saints de la Bretagne, p. 724, 725.)

Saint John of Reomey, founder of this abbey, which afterwards took the name of Montier-Saint-Jean; 28th of January, about 545. He is generally represented beside a well and holding a sort of dragon chained. His legend relates that he caused the death of a basilisk which made the water of a well or fountain dangerous. (Calend. benedict., 28 januar.) Sometimes instead of this dragon (winged) there is placed near him a chained serpent. (Cf. Aug. de Bastard,Mémoire sur les crosses, p. 776.)

Saint Beat or Beatus of Vendomois, hermit; 9th of May, year difficult to determine. The story goes that, finding a reptile in the grotto into which he desired to retire, near the Loire, he drove the animal out with the sign of the cross. (AA. SS.,Maii, t. II., p. 365. D. Piolin,Hist. de l'Eglise du Mans, t. I., p. 62.)

Saint Lifard(Liphardus,Liethphardus), hermit, afterwards abbot at Meun-sur-Loire; 3d of June, about 540. Near him in pictures is a staff planted in the earth, and bitten at top by a serpent, which is broken in the middle of the body. It is related that near his cell an enormous serpent prevented the people of the locality from having access to a fountain. Urbitius, a disciple of the holy man, ran one day to him, telling him that he had met the dreadful reptile. Lifard smiled and bade Urbitius be ashamed of his lack of faith, and gave him his staff with orders to plant it in the ground in front of the beast. This being done, and while the hermit was praying to God, the monster sprang upon the staff, which he bit with madness. The weight of the monstrous beast made it burst in the middle, and the country was delivered from him. (Surius, 3 jun.)

Outside of France, this is sometimes represented by an empaled dragon from which issue a number of little dragons flying away. (Calendar. benedict., 4 jun.)

Saint Leonard the younger, abbot of Vendeuve; 15th of October, about 570. He is represented with a serpent near him, because one of these serpents having crawled towards the holy man while he was at prayer, stopped without being able to hurt him. He is also represented with a serpent dying at his feet or twined around his body. (AA. SS., Octobr., t. VII., p. 48, sq.) It is asserted that a serpent has never since appeared in that place.

Saint Memin(or Maximin), abbot of Micy; 15th of December, 520. He is painted holding a serpent, because he is said to have driven a dangerous reptile from the banks of the Loire. (Aug. de Bastard,Crosses, p. 776.)

Saint Dominic of Sara, abbot of the order of Saint Benedict; 22d of January, about 1031. A present of fish sent to the holy man having been abstracted on the way, the rogues were rather surprised to find only snakes instead of the fish they had stolen. (Calendar. benedict., 22 januar.,—Brantii,Martyrol. poetic.)

"Qui missos sancto pisces abscondit, in anguesMutatos, rediens vidit et obstupuit."

Saint Vincent of Avila, with Saint Sabina and Saint Christeta, his sisters; 27th of October, under Diocletian. The bodies of these martyrs having been abandoned to beasts of prey, an enormous serpent protected their remains from any insult. A Jew, even, who had come to see the corpses, ran such danger from the reptile that he made a vow to receive baptism. (Espana sagrada, t. XIV., p. 32.)

Saint Gorry(Godrick, Godrich,Godricus), hermit in England; 21st of May, 1170. He put himself under the direction of the monks of Durham, and passed the latter part of his life in a solitude. He is represented surrounded by serpents, because those venomous animals gathered around him and did him no harm. (Calend. benedict., 29 mai.—AA. SS.,Maii, t. V., p. 68, sqq.)

The BlessedBonagiunta Manetti, Servite and first general of his order; 31st of August, 1257. Father Cahier says that in France pictures of the Servites are seldom found, and then with no particular emblem. He, however, found one in which the blessed Bonagiunta is blessing loaves which break, and bottles from which serpents escape. In the art of the Middle Ages a serpent is the emblem of poison, and so it seems to be here. As the holy man, while asking alms for his community, did not hesitate to rebuke sinners, he gave offence to a Florentine merchant. Pretending to be repentant and charitable, he sent poisoned bread and wine to the Servite monastery. The Blessed Bonagiunta received the man who brought the pretended alms, and said to him, "I know well that thy master would take my life. But tell him that no evil will happen us, and that death will soon strike himself." The prophecy was accomplished. (Cf. Brocchi,Vite dei SS. Fiorentini, t. I., p. 246.)

Saint Heldradus, abbot of Novalèse (13th of March, 875), is said to have expelled the serpents that infested the valley of Briançon where the saint wanted to establish a colony of his monks. (AA. SS., Mart., t. II., p. 334.)

Saint Thecla, virgin and martyr; 23d of September, Apostolic age. This saint is called a martyr, and even the first of martyrs, because although her life was not taken in torments, she seems to be the first Christian woman who was given over to the barbarity of Pagan public power. It is related that she was thrown into a ditch filled with vipers, but a ball of fire fell from heaven and killed all those venomous animals. So she is sometimes painted with a fiery globe in her hand or near her. Father Cahier adds that her Acts have not come to us with sufficient indications of authenticity; but the church, in her prayers for the dying, retains the memory of the three tortures (flames, wild beasts, and venomous animals), from which the saint was delivered by assistance from on high. She prays: "As thou didst deliver that most blessed virgin Thecla from three most cruel torments, so vouchsafe to deliver the soul of this Thy servant," etc.[3]

Saint Christina, virgin and martyr in Tuscany; 24th of July, towards the end of the third century. Same attribute and same reason as for as Saint Thecla. (Bagatta,Admiranda orbis, lib. VII., cap. I., 19, No. 3.)

Saint Anatolia, virgin, martyred with Saint Audax, 9th of July, about 250. She was confined in a narrow dungeon, with a venomous serpent, which was expected to kill her. When it was thought that she was slain, Audax, one of those Marsi who prided themselves on being able to charm reptiles, was sent into the prison. But the virgin was unhurt, and the serpent flung itself on the pretended charmer, who was delivered only at Anatolia's command. Audax was converted to Christianity, and gave his life for Jesus Christ some time after the death of the saint, who was pierced by a sword. (Martyrol. Rom., 9 Jul.—Bagatta,Admiranda orbis, lib. VII., cap. I., § 19, No. 17.)

Saint Verena, virgin at Zurzach in Switzerland; 1st of September, about the beginning of the fourth century. At her prayer, it is said, a quantity of venomous serpents forsook the country and flung themselves into the Aar.

Saint Verdiana(Viridiana), virgin of the Third Order of Saint Francis, or of Valeambrosa at Castel-Fiorentino; 13th of February, 1242. Living as a recluse with serpents. She imposed this sort of penance on herself to overcome the horror that reptiles excited in her, and took care to feed these strange guests herself so that they would not go away. (Bagatta,l. c., ibid., No. 27.)

Saint Isberga, (Itisberga), a hermit virgin near Aire in Artois, afterwards abbess; 21st of May, about 770. As daughter of Pepin and sister of Charlemagne, she is often represented with a crown and a mantle covered with fleurs-de-lis. But she is particularly distinguished by another emblem. An eel is put in her hand, sometimes on a dish, and for this reason: A powerful prince had asked Isberga's hand in marriage; but in order to preserve the vow of virginity which she had made, she besought God to send her some disease which would disfigure her. Her face was soon covered with pustules, and the suitor no longer insisted upon marrying her. Heaven then revealed toIsberga that she would be cured by eating the first fish that would be caught in the Lys. The men whom she sent for that purpose toiled long without succeeding in taking anything but an eel, along with which they brought up in their nets the body of Saint Venantus, a hermit (the saint's director), who had been slain and cast into the river by the princess's lover, for he blamed the hermit for the resolution taken by the virgin whose hand he sought in marriage. The discovery of the body brought the crime to light, and made known the sanctity of Venantus, to whose merits Isberga ascribed the efficacy of the fish in delivering her from disease. (AA. SS.Maii, t. V., p. 44.—Dancoisne,Numismatique béthunoise, p. 165, sqq.)

Saint Enimia of Gevandan, virgin; 6th of October, about the seventh century. She, too, is depicted with a serpent because she is said to have delivered the country from that dangerous animal. (AA. SS.Octobr., t. XI., p. 630, t. III., p. 306, sqq.)

Saint Crescentian; 1st of June, 287. Coins of Urbino represent him armed cap-a-pie, on foot or on horseback, and killing a dragon with his lance, or carrying a flag; at other times he is seen in deacon's costume, trampling a serpent under his feet. He is said to have been a Roman soldier, and to have introduced the Gospel into Citta-di-Castello. (BrantiiMartyrolog. poeticum, 1 jun:

"Letifero Crescentinus serpente TipherniOcciso, gladio victima cæsa cadit.")

Turning to another part of Father Cahier's work, we find that the following saints are also represented with serpents:

Saint John the Evangelist; 27th of December. He is represented holding a sort of chalice surmounted by a little serpent or a dragon. The Golden Legend says, that, to prove the truth of his teaching, he was compelled to drink poison. Some of it was first given to two men condemned to death and they died on the spot. The saint made the sign of the cross over the cup, drank, suffered no inconvenience, and then restored the two dead men to life. Father Cahier adds that this story seems to have given rise to the custom especially prevalent among Germanic nations of drinking to friends' health under pretense of honoring Saint John. He says that this custom has sometimes been put under the protection of Saint John the Baptist, but that it is not probable the Germans would have cared about putting theirhealthsput under the protection of a saint who drank only water.

Saint Chariton, hermit and abbot in Palestine; 28th of September, about 350. Near him is represented a serpent plunging its head in a cup. A native of Lycaonia, and released by the Pagans after being tortured for the faith, he went to Jerusalem, where he was taken by robbers, and confined in the cave which was their retreat. A serpent came and drank out of the vase in which their wine was, at the same time poisoning it with his venom, and the robbers died in consequence, whereupon the saint made the cave the cradle of a monastery. (Menolog., græc, t. I., p. 73.)

Saint Pourcain(Portianus), abbot in Auvergne; 24th of November, about 540. He is represented with a broken cup from whichemerges a serpent. King Thierry I. was ravaging Auvergne, and the holy abbot went to intercede with him for the poor people. The King was still asleep when he came, and the principal officer offered him a drink, which he refused because he had not yet seen the king or celebrated the office. Pressed, however, he blessed the vase which was brought him, it broke, and a serpent came out of it. The whole court considered that he had been saved from poison. (Gregor. Turon.,Vitæ PP., cap. V.)

Saint John of Sahagun, Hermit of Saint Augustine; 12th of June, 1497. He is represented amongst other ways, with a cup surmounted by a serpent. This is because he was really poisoned by a dissolute woman in revenge for the conversion of her lover by the saint and his consequent dismissal of her. (AA. SS.Jun., t. II., p. 625.)

Saint Louis Bertrand, Dominican; 10th of October, 1581. A cup with a serpent indicates that in his missions in America he had poison given him more than once by the Pagans, without being injured by it.

Th. Xr. K.

Miss Rosa Mulholland has at last been induced to gather her poems into a volume which will be dear to all lovers of poetry into whose hands it may fall. No person with the faintest glimmering of insight into the subtle mechanism of literary composition in its higher forms could study the prose writings of the author of "The Wicked Woods of Tobereevil," of "Eldergowan," and many other dainty fictions, without being sure that the writer of such prose was a poet also, not merely by nature but by art; and many had learned to follow her initials through the pages of certain magazines. The present work contains nearly all of these scattered lyrics; and, along with them, many that are now printed for the first time combine to form a volume of the truest and holiest poetry that has been heard on earth since Adelaide Procter went to heaven.

The only justification for the too modest title of "Vagrant Verses," which gleams from the cover of this pretty volume, lies in the fact that this most graceful muse wanders from subject to subject according to her fancy, and pursues no heroic or dramatic theme with that exhaustive treatment which exhausts every one except the poet. The poems in this collection are short, written not to order, but under the manifest impulse of inspiration, for the expression only of the deeper thoughts and more vivid feelings of the soul. Except the fine lyrical and dramatic ballad, "The Children of Lir," which occupies eight pages, and the first five pages given to "Emmet's Love," none of the rest of the seventy poems go much beyond a page or two, while they range through every mood, sad or mirthful, and through every form of metre.

We have named the opening poem, which is an exquisitely pathetic soliloquy of Sarah Curran, a year after the death of her betrothed, young Robert Emmet—a nobler tribute to the memory of our great orator's daughter than either Moore's verse or Washington Irving's prose. But the metrical interlacing of the stanzas, and the elevation and refinement of the poetic diction, require a thoughtful perusal to bring out the perfections of this poem, which, therefore, lends itself less readily to quotation. We shall rather begin by giving one shorter poem in full, taken almost at random. Let it be "Wilfulness and Patience," as it teaches a lesson which it would be well for many to take to heart and to learn by heart:—

I said I am going into the garden,Into the flush of the sweetness of life;I can stay in the wilderness no longer,Where sorrow and sickness and pain are so rife;So I shod my feet in their golden sandals,And I looped my gown with a ribbon of blue,And into the garden went I singing,The birds in the boughs fell a-singing too.Just at the wicket I met with Patience,Grave was her face, and pure and kind,But oh, I loved not her ashen mantle,Such sober looks were not to my mind.Said Patience, "Go not into the garden,But come with me by the difficult ways,Over the wastes and the wilderness mountains,To the higher levels of love and praise!"Gaily I laughed as I opened the wicket,And Patience, pitying, flitted away.The garden glory was full of the morning—The morning changed to the glamor of day.O sweet were the winds among my tresses,And sweet the flowers that bent at my knees;Ripe were the fruits that fell at my wishing,But sated soon was my soul with these.And would I were hand in hand with Patience;Tracking her feet on the difficult ways,Over the wastes and the wilderness mountains,To the higher level of love and praise!

I said I am going into the garden,Into the flush of the sweetness of life;I can stay in the wilderness no longer,Where sorrow and sickness and pain are so rife;

So I shod my feet in their golden sandals,And I looped my gown with a ribbon of blue,And into the garden went I singing,The birds in the boughs fell a-singing too.

Just at the wicket I met with Patience,Grave was her face, and pure and kind,But oh, I loved not her ashen mantle,Such sober looks were not to my mind.

Said Patience, "Go not into the garden,But come with me by the difficult ways,Over the wastes and the wilderness mountains,To the higher levels of love and praise!"

Gaily I laughed as I opened the wicket,And Patience, pitying, flitted away.The garden glory was full of the morning—The morning changed to the glamor of day.

O sweet were the winds among my tresses,And sweet the flowers that bent at my knees;Ripe were the fruits that fell at my wishing,But sated soon was my soul with these.

And would I were hand in hand with Patience;Tracking her feet on the difficult ways,Over the wastes and the wilderness mountains,To the higher level of love and praise!

The salutary lesson that the singer wants to impress on the young heart, is here taught plainly and directly even by the very name of the piece. But here is another very delicious melody, of which the name and the purport are somewhat more mysterious. It is called "Perdita."

I dipped my hand in the sea,Wantonly—The sun shone red o'er castle and cave;Dreaming, I rocked on the sleepy wave;—I drew a pearl from the sea.Wonderingly.There in my hand it lay:Who could sayHow from the depths of the ocean calmIt rose, and slid itself into my palm?I smiled at finding therePearl so fair.I kissed the beautiful thing,Marvelling.Poor till now I had grown to beThe wealthiest maiden on land or sea,A priceless gem was mine,Pure, divine!I hid the pearl in my breast,Fearful lestThe wind should steal, or the wave repentLargess made in mere merriment,And snatch it back againInto the main.But careless grown, ah me!WantonlyI held between two fingers fineMy gem above the sparkling brine,Only to see it gleamAcross the stream.I felt the treasure slideUnder the tide;I saw its mild and delicate rayGlittering upward, fade away.Ah! then my tears did flow,Long ago!I weep,and weep, and weep,Into the deep;Sad am I that I could not holdA treasure richer than virgin gold.That Fate so sweetly gaveOut of the wave.I dipmy hand in the sea,Longingly;But never more will that jewel whiteShed on my soul its tender light.My pearl lies buried deepWhere mermaids sleep.

I dipped my hand in the sea,Wantonly—The sun shone red o'er castle and cave;Dreaming, I rocked on the sleepy wave;—I drew a pearl from the sea.Wonderingly.

There in my hand it lay:Who could sayHow from the depths of the ocean calmIt rose, and slid itself into my palm?I smiled at finding therePearl so fair.

I kissed the beautiful thing,Marvelling.Poor till now I had grown to beThe wealthiest maiden on land or sea,A priceless gem was mine,Pure, divine!

I hid the pearl in my breast,Fearful lestThe wind should steal, or the wave repentLargess made in mere merriment,And snatch it back againInto the main.

But careless grown, ah me!WantonlyI held between two fingers fineMy gem above the sparkling brine,Only to see it gleamAcross the stream.

I felt the treasure slideUnder the tide;I saw its mild and delicate rayGlittering upward, fade away.Ah! then my tears did flow,Long ago!

I weep,and weep, and weep,Into the deep;Sad am I that I could not holdA treasure richer than virgin gold.That Fate so sweetly gaveOut of the wave.

I dipmy hand in the sea,Longingly;But never more will that jewel whiteShed on my soul its tender light.My pearl lies buried deepWhere mermaids sleep.

Some readers of thisMagazineare, no doubt, for the first time making acquaintance with Miss Mulholland under this character in which others have known her long; and even these newest friends know enough of her already to pronounce upon some of her characteristics. She is not influenced by the spell of modern culture which has invested the poetic diction of recent years with an exquisite expressiveness and delicate beauty. But, while her style is the very antithesis of the tawdry or the commonplace, she has no mannerisms or affectations; she belongs to no school; she does not deem it thepoet's duty to cultivate an artificial,recherche, dilettante dialect unknown to Shakespeare and Wordsworth—if we may use a string of epithets which can only be excused for their outlandishness on the plea that they describe something very outlandish. Her meaning is as lucid as her thoughts are high and pure. If, after reading one of her poems carefully, we sometimes have to ask "What does she mean by that?" we ask it not on account of any obscurity in her language, but on account of the depth and height of her thoughts.

The musical rhythm of our extracts prepares us for the form which many of Miss Mulholland's inspirations assume—that of the song pure and simple. Those last epithets have here more than the meaning which they usually bear in such a context; for these songs are not only eminently singable, but they are marked by a very attractive purity and simplicity. There are many of them besides this one which alone bears no other name than "Song."

The silent bird is hid in the boughs,The scythe is hid in the corn,The lazy oxen wink and drowse,The grateful sheep are shorn.Redder and redder burns the rose,The lily was ne'er so pale,Stiller and stiller the river flowsAlong the path to the vale.A little door is hid in the boughs,A face is hiding within;When birds are silent and oxen drowse,Why should a maiden spin?Slower and slower turns the wheel,The face turns red and pale,Brighter and brighter the looks that stealAlong the path to the vale.

A little door is hid in the boughs,A face is hiding within;When birds are silent and oxen drowse,Why should a maiden spin?Slower and slower turns the wheel,The face turns red and pale,Brighter and brighter the looks that stealAlong the path to the vale.

Here and everywhere how few are the adjectives, and never any slipped in as mere adjectives. Verbs and nouns do duty for them, and the pictures paint themselves. There is more of genius, art, thought, and study in this self-restraining simplicity than in the freer and bolder eloquence that might make young pulses tingle.

This remarkable faculty for musical verse seems to us to enhance the merit of a poem in which a certain ruggedness is introduced of set purpose. At least, we think that the subtle sympathy, which in the workmanship of a true poet links theme and metre together, is curiously exemplified in "News to Tell." What metre is it? A very slight change here and there would conform it to the sober, solemn measure familiar to the least poetical of us in Gray's marvellous "Elegy in a Country Churchyard." That elegiac tone already suits the rhythm here to the pathetic story. But then the wounded soldier, who, perhaps, will not recover after all, but may follow his dead comrade—see how he drags himself with difficulty away from the old gray castle where the young widow and the aged mother are overwhelmed by the news he had to tell; and is not all this with exquisite cunning represented by the halting gait of the metre, in which every line deviates just a little from the normal scheme of five iambics?

Neighbor, lend me your arm, for I am not well,This wound you see is scarcely a fortnight old,All for a sorry message I had to tell,I've travelled many a mile in wet and cold.Yon is the old gray château above the road,He bade me seek it, my comrade brave and gay;Stately forest and river so brown and broad,He showed me the scene as he a-dying lay.I have been there, and, neighbor I am not well;I bore his sword and some of his curling hair,Knocked at the gate and said I had news to tell,Entered a chamber and saw his mother there.Tall and straight with the snows of age on her head,Brave and stern as a soldier's mother might be,Deep in her eyes a living look of the dead,She grasped her staff and silently gazed at me.I thought I'd better be dead than meet her eye;She guessed it all, I'd never a word to tell.Taking the sword in her arms she heaved a sigh,Clasping the curl in her hand, she sobbed and fell.I raised her up; she sate in her stately chair,Her face like death, but not a tear in her eye.We heard a step, a tender voice on the stairMurmuring soft to an infant's cooing cry.My lady she sate erect, and sterner grew,Finger on mouth she motioned me not to stay;A girl came in, the wife of the dead I knew,She held his babe, and, neighbor, I fled away!I tried to run, but I heard the widow's cry.Neighbor, I have been hurt and I am not well:I pray to God that never until I dieMay I again have such sorry news to tell.

Neighbor, lend me your arm, for I am not well,This wound you see is scarcely a fortnight old,All for a sorry message I had to tell,I've travelled many a mile in wet and cold.

Yon is the old gray château above the road,He bade me seek it, my comrade brave and gay;Stately forest and river so brown and broad,He showed me the scene as he a-dying lay.

I have been there, and, neighbor I am not well;I bore his sword and some of his curling hair,Knocked at the gate and said I had news to tell,Entered a chamber and saw his mother there.

Tall and straight with the snows of age on her head,Brave and stern as a soldier's mother might be,Deep in her eyes a living look of the dead,She grasped her staff and silently gazed at me.

I thought I'd better be dead than meet her eye;She guessed it all, I'd never a word to tell.Taking the sword in her arms she heaved a sigh,Clasping the curl in her hand, she sobbed and fell.

I raised her up; she sate in her stately chair,Her face like death, but not a tear in her eye.We heard a step, a tender voice on the stairMurmuring soft to an infant's cooing cry.

My lady she sate erect, and sterner grew,Finger on mouth she motioned me not to stay;A girl came in, the wife of the dead I knew,She held his babe, and, neighbor, I fled away!

I tried to run, but I heard the widow's cry.Neighbor, I have been hurt and I am not well:I pray to God that never until I dieMay I again have such sorry news to tell.

The next piece we shall cite has travelled across the Atlantic, and come back again under false pretences, and without its author's leave or knowledge. Some years ago an American newspaper published some pathetic stanzas, to which it gave as a title "Exquisite Effusion of a Dying Sister of Charity." One into whose hands this journal chanced to fall, read on with interest and pleasure, feeling the verses strangely familiar—till, on reflection, he found that the poem had been published some time before inThe Month, over the well-known initials "R. M." As the American journalist named the Irish convent where the Sister of Charity had died—not one of Mrs. Aikenhead's spiritual daughters, but one of those whom we call French Sisters of Charity—the reader aforesaid went to the trouble of writing to the Mother Superior, who gave the following explanation: The holy Sister had been fond of reading and writing verse; and these verses with others were found in her desk after her death and handed over to her relatives as relics. They not comparing them very critically with the nun's genuine literaryremains, rashly published them as "The Exquisite Effusion of a Dying Sister of Charity." The foregoing circumstances were soon afterwards published in theBoston Pilot; but the ghost of such a blunder is not so easily laid, and the poem reappears inThe Messenger of St. Josephfor last August, under the title of "An Invalid's Plaint," and still attributed to the dying Nun, who had only had the good taste to admire and transcribe Miss Mulholland's poem. In all its wanderings to and fro across the Atlantic many corruptions crept into the text; and it would be an interesting exercise in style to collate the version given byThe Messengerwith the authorized edition which we here copy from page 136 of "Vagrant Verses," where the poem, of course, bears its original name of "Failure."

The Lord, Who fashioned my hands for working,Set me a task, and it is not done;I tried and tried since the early morning,And now to westward sinketh the sun!Noble the task that was kindly givenTo one so little and weak as I—Somehow my strength could never grasp it,Never, as days and years went by.Others around me, cheerfully toiling,Showed me their work as they passed away;Filled were their hands to overflowing,Proud were their hearts, and glad and gay.Laden with harvest spoils they enteredIn at the golden gate of their rest;Laid their sheaves at the feet of the Master,Found their places among the blest.Happy be they who strove to help me,Failing ever in spite of their aid!Fain would their love have borne me onward,But I was unready, and sore afraid.Now I know my task will never be finished,And when the Master calleth my name,The Voice will find me still at my labor,Weeping beside it in weary shame.With empty hands I shall rise to meet Him,And when He looks for the fruits of years,Nothing have I to lay before HimBut broken efforts and bitter tears.Yet when He calls I fain would hasten—Mine eyes are dim and their light is gone;And I am as weary as though I carriedA burthen of beautiful work well done.I will fold my empty hands on my bosom,Meekly thus in the shape of His Cross;And the Lord, Who made them frail and feeble,Maybe will pity their strife and loss.

The Lord, Who fashioned my hands for working,Set me a task, and it is not done;I tried and tried since the early morning,And now to westward sinketh the sun!

Noble the task that was kindly givenTo one so little and weak as I—Somehow my strength could never grasp it,Never, as days and years went by.

Others around me, cheerfully toiling,Showed me their work as they passed away;Filled were their hands to overflowing,Proud were their hearts, and glad and gay.

Laden with harvest spoils they enteredIn at the golden gate of their rest;Laid their sheaves at the feet of the Master,Found their places among the blest.

Happy be they who strove to help me,Failing ever in spite of their aid!Fain would their love have borne me onward,But I was unready, and sore afraid.

Now I know my task will never be finished,And when the Master calleth my name,The Voice will find me still at my labor,Weeping beside it in weary shame.

With empty hands I shall rise to meet Him,And when He looks for the fruits of years,Nothing have I to lay before HimBut broken efforts and bitter tears.

Yet when He calls I fain would hasten—Mine eyes are dim and their light is gone;And I am as weary as though I carriedA burthen of beautiful work well done.

I will fold my empty hands on my bosom,Meekly thus in the shape of His Cross;And the Lord, Who made them frail and feeble,Maybe will pity their strife and loss.

It might have been expected that so skilful an artist in beautiful words would be sure occasionally to find the classic sonnet form the most fitting vehicle for some rounded and stately thought. About half a dozen sonnets are strewn over these pages, all cast in the true Petrarchan mould, and all very properly bearing names of their own, like any other form of verse, instead of being labelled promiscuously as "sonnets." The following is called "Love." What a sublime ideal, only to be realized in human love when in its self-denying sacredness it approaches the divine!

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