The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1894-05-26
#-. MINNEAPOLIS MINI, SATURDAY, NAY Is, 1894.


across the pages, we catch ourselves Lis
tening to the lines, as he himself woule
read them; and they borrow fuller mel
ody, a more complete, entrancing bar
mony, as they come to us in the tones o1
that ringing, pathetic, persuasive, com
pelling voice; and we own to ourselves
that the personality of the poet has in,
deed enriched the magic Of his muse.
have dwelt upon that scene, in the
theatre, the night Of the Lee Memorial
as the best way in which could picture
just what Father Ryan was to the South
ern people, just what niche was his very
own in the worship Of the South. It il
easy enough to pick up his volume Of
poems or any characteristic one, and crit
icise it, find out the beauties and the
flaws therein; but that would be little
descriptive of che poet-priest, as he lived
and moved among us. That would carry
little account of the intense, constant,
affectionate interest and admiration that
surrounded him.
OF Father Ryan's literary claims, it
seems difficult to classify them by any
rhetorical standard, SO much more was
he the poet Of the heart than of the head;
the voice was SO much more sympathetic
than artistic. "Whatmatters that?" you
say; poetry is purely and pre- eminently
of the emotions; the more heart, the more
sympathy, the better poetry True; and
yet poetry is an art as well; and be the
gem ever so pure, it misses much of it's
llustre it left in the rough. Father Ryan
himself recognized this, but did not real
ize it sufficiently.
In the preface to his volume of poems,
he gives tile truest criticism of his own
verses that I have seen; and nothing
better OF more Justly critical can be said:
"Little of study and less of art." ''Incom-
pete in finish, though true in tone." Il
cannot tell why, have sometimes tried
to sing" he says of himself. "He sings
as bird sings, because he cannot help
himself" replied q sister singer, Pearl
Rivers.
"Always in hurry" and "souls are
more to me than songe,''' are pithy SEN
tences Of his own that redeem his mar.
tistic work from / cenenre. . Would We
think q singers notes were sweet if we
knew the voice we're little strained in
hushing korrows to sleep? always in q
hurry" because the sin and misery that
needed llftlng up, crowded the hours of
the priest and left only N, ments for the
poet. "Souls were always more to me
than songs" Aye! the miseries, the de-
feats, the despairs that darken life were
always welcome to the glow of his great
heart; and his songs we're forgotten or
hurried through in the overnastering
realization of human suffering.
AS 1.-THE Conquered Banner" was his
great patriotic song, 80 ''The Song of the
Mystic" may be considered his best re-
ligious poem. 1t is not given to every
poet to have two great themes, two in
tense sentiments, like two strong cords
of his lyre2a double half f-note-relgion
and patriotism-G God and country.
The flaws in his work are those that
might DO expected from hasty writer,
from the singer whose song struggled
within and burst forth in it's own impetu-
GUS way. No wonder the undisclplined
voice faltere sometimes, the notes jar q
little or repeat themselves unconsciously.
But there are enhancing strains in the
uncontrolled bursts of melody:
Eyes, give me the land where the ruins are
spread,
And the living tread light, on the hearts of the
dead"
"You think of the dead on Christmas eve,
\ Wherever the dead are sleeping;
And we, from Land where we may not grieye
Look tenderly down on your weeping.
''Night, be q Priest! put your star-stole on
And murmur holy prayer
Over each grave, and for every one
= Lying down lifeless there!
Even where the strain is SO often re-
peated, as to become monotonous the
music is not muses.. Father Ryan had,
to the fullest, that sensuous love of sound,
that attuned his muslc's ear, because Of
the Celtic blood that filled his veins.
Father Ryan, while disolaiming all at
tempt at rhetorical effect, was not with
out some effort in that direction; and in
some cases with q marked degree Of sue
cess. I think there are few better results
in this line than the fine climax in his
poem, "The Sword Of Lee y
"Out of its scabbard !---neYer hand
Waved sword from stain as free.
No purer sword led Drawer band
No Drawer bled for brighter LAND,
Nor brighter land had cause SO grand,
/ Nor cause chief, like Lee
An humble, nameless resting place, II
the bleak, wind-swept plain Of the Cath
olic cemetery in Mobile. a brown, un-
lettered slab, but q few inches above the
earth sof q kindred color, marks the spot
where the sweetest voice of Southern
song IS huahed in death, whore the warm