The Memphis appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1886-1890, 1886-04-27
TIE POET-PRIEST.
Tribute by "A Northern Newspaper
TO the Lamented Father Ryan.

TO the Lamented Father Ryan.
Evansville Und.) Iribune-N eigs: A
life has jus. drawn to a close at the
secluded village Of Biloxi, Miss, which
is surrounded with roma ce and
marks the end of a man who is en-
deared to the South by the strongest
ties OF universal friendship. Father
Ryan was born at Norfolk, Va; his
boyhood was spent among historic
surroundings, and as a lover and wor-
shipper of nature his poetic genius re-
ceived its early inspirations amid the
beauteous eolitudes about his early
home. Around his early life, until he
entered the priesthood, however, COM
parstively little is known, and he was
never inclined TO be communicative
upon this point. To queries Upon
this matter he always said that a
very dear friend and brother prizes was
row writing his biography, which
would be published after his death.
He was ordained a Roman Cath
ole priest before the late civil
war, and was located at Mobile, Ala,
where, for a long time, he had charge
of st. Msry's church. During the re-
beliion he spent much of his time in
travel among the different divisions of
the Southern army, cheering the dis
spirited, caring for the sick aud bury
ing the dead. His face became a ia
miliar feature in all the great hospitals
of the South, and his deeds of kind
ness a bright and living memory
throughout the land. Though his
sympsthies were strongly with the
Southern people, the enemy we're not
unmindful OF his great self-denials
aud the life of charity and mercy to
which he had devoted himself, and as
a result the name of Father Ryan was
heralded throughout the length Of the
land. After the close of that unfortu-
nate struggle he went TO Augusta, Ca,
where he entered jourDa lism, and it
was at this time that he first gave to
the world his most famous poems,
"Furl That Banner" "The Flag Of
Erin" "The Sword of lee," and
many other beautiful selections
and epics which have rendered
him famous. Though lis cook Of
poems did not find fAvVr in the North
at this early period alter the struggle,
they are now a famiiiaf feature OF all
the leading libraries. In personal APP
pearance Father Ryan was a most
striking man, compactly built, a high
forehead, dark brown long hair, and a
facial expression rather meditative
and showing a tinge OF sadness. His
manner was quiet aud graceful, and
he looked every inch the man a read
er Of his writings would likely picture
in his minds eye.
His universal benevolence, as well as
his othernohle attributes, made him the
friend of everybody, as it was only to
know him to love him. Among his
most intimate friends we're clergymen
of other denominations, and it is
said that one of his closest friend
ships was a learned Jewish rab-
bi Of New Orleans. Such a man
and such q life is extremely rare in
this world. They are like those celes-
tial visitors to our solar system,
which, at long intervals of time, sud-
denly arise above the horizon, clothed
in white and beauty, and then dart off
in eccentric circles through boundless
space. II wss our happy privilege to
have known and loved Father Ryan,
and we speak from the heart when we
say that not only our dear friend, but
a friend to all humanity, now lies in
that embrace of death. We lay this
tribute with tears upon his grave, and
can only trust that our own life may
share the browning influence of the
one that has passed away. In conclu-
sion, We are pleased to here reproduce
one Of his last poems, entitled the
Song Of the Mystic"
L walk down the valley Of silence
Down the dim noiseless VALLEY alouol
And l hear not the sound Of a footstep
Around me, save Gods and my oWn;
And the hush Of my heart is as holy
As hOvers where angels have h0Wn.'
Long ago was | weary Of voices,
Whose music my heart could not win;
Long ago was l weary, OF noises
That iretted my soul with their din;
Long ago was l weary of places
Where l found but the human and sin"
~ walked in the world with the worldly,
Icraved what the world never gave,
And l said: In the world each ideal,
mat SHINES ike y star On llle 3 NdNes
Is wrecked on the shores Of the real,
And sleeps like a dream in a grave"
"And still did l pine for the perfect,
And still found the false with the true;
/ sought mid the human for heaven
But caught a mere glimpse Of its blue,
And / wept when the clouds Of the mortal
Yelled even that glimpse from my view
"And 1 toiled on, heart tired of the human,
And l moaned mid the mazes Of men,
Till | knelt long ago at an altar
And / heard a voice call me; since then
/ walk dOw the valley Of silence
That lies far beyond mortal KEN,
"Do you ask what 1 found in the valley?
It's M ~trysling place With the divine,
And | tell at the feet of the holy,
And above me a voice said, BE mineP
And there rose from the depths. of my spirit
An echo; MY heart shall be thine.
e G g
"Do you ask me tho place Of the valley,
Ye hearts that are narrowed with oare2
II listh afar between mountains,
And God and his angels are there,
And one is the dark mount Of sorrow,
And one the bright mountain Of prayer"