The representative. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1893-1901, 1896-01-08

point of sadness 1t has no parallel upon
earth. All have heard of the Land of
Tlrnanoge, tabled to lie somewhere out
in the sea, off the coast of Erin, and that
all who dwell upon it possess eternal
youth. In 1.-The Sleeper's Sail (only in
part reproduced here) the ancient myth
appears again, with Christian setting,
and the throat swells and the eyes swim
in tears while the ragged, famine-torn
boy thus tells his widowed mother of the
strange things he has seen, looking
across the sea at twilight:
THE SEEPER'S SAIL.
Mother! I've been on the cliffs out yon-
der.
Straning my eyes Ger the breakers free
To the lovely spot where the sun was
sinking,
Setting and sinking into the sea.
1.-THE sky was full of the fairest colors.
Pink and purple and paly green:
with great soft masses of gray and am
Der.
And great bright riffs of gold between.
And all the birds that way are hying
Heron and curlew overhead,
With q mighty eagle westward floating.
Every plume in the piniOns red
And then I saw 1.-THE fairy city
Far away Ger the waters deep:
Towers and castles and chapels glowing
Like blessed dreams that we see in
sleep.
What is its name?" "Be STILL acushla
(Thy hair is wet with the mist, nv bow.
Thou hast looked, perchance, on the Tir-
nanoge
Land of eternal youth and joy.
out of the sea when the sun it setting
1t rises golden and fair to view
NO trace of ruin or change or sorrow,
No sign Of age where all is new
ForeVer sunny, forever blooming
Nor cloud nor frost can touch that spot,
Where the happy people are ever roam
ing,
The bitter pangs of the past forgot
Mother! we've known no end Of trouble
Since the night that father was drown
ed in the bay;
The COW lies dead in the poor old stable,
The black bread fails us day by day
why should we hunger, weep and hun
ger,
Your cheeks grow hollow, your hair
turn white,
When over the sea to Tirnanoge
In fathers boat we can sail tonight :?
Nay. nay, my boy. Lie down and slum-
Der:
Gods ways are dim to our human
pride;
None dare sail to the Tirnanoge
Save those whom angels come to guide. 3"
But in his dreams again Tirnanoge
arises from the deep, the battlements of
its castles glow red in the sunset the
sea birds flap and the sea winds blow.
and he sees the happy people thronging
the beach. his father among them, gray
haired and poor no more" He will arise
and sail in his fathers boat to this isle Of
rest and mystery: he will go while his
mother lies and dreams. Dreams.
Little she dreams that his dear ewes
never
Again in her face the smile shall seek:
Or his young arms clasp her neck, while
ever
The bright lips warm her withered
cheek"
for when she awakes it is to find her
arms empty, while
over Deaths sea on a bridge of silver
The child to his Fathers arms had
passed:
Heaven was nearer than Tirnanoge
And the Golden City was reached at
last"
Tirnanoge-land of youth and beauty
and fair delight!-thou art the heritage
of the Celt. always before his face yet by
MS rect untouched. Under whatever
sun abides 1.-The wandering Gael
whether in sorrow hunger or the world 8
conten pit. thy eternal meadows lie be-
fore his eyes. the red twilight is upon the
turrets Of thy castles, the melodies of
old come up from thy mysterious lattices.
and tomorrow he will sail out to thee
and dwell among his people. Tomorrow,
yes, heaven is nearer than Tirnanoge. -
These examples may be cited as belong
in to the flower and fruit and trailing
vine" order of Miss Donnellys work. A
higher yet exists
The writer then institutes a COMPARE
son between Miss Donnelly's "Vision of
the Monk Gabriel and Longfellow's
poem on the same subject, entitled the
Legend Beautiful" and he gives. as all
must, the palm to the former. He SAYS:
This Vision" it may be we'll to re-
member was published several years be-
fore the Legend" was written:
VISION OF THE MONK GABRIEL.
'Tis the soft twilight. Round the shin
ing fender,
Two at my feet and one upon my knee.
Dreamy-eyed Elsie, bright-lipped Isabel,
And thou, my authenticated Raphael
My fairy. small and slender,
Listen to what befel
Monk Gabriel
In the old ages ripe with mystery
Listen my darlings, to the legend tender.
A bearded man, with grave but gentle
look,
His silence sweet with sounds
With which the supplemented spring
abOunds;
Lowing of the cattle from the abbey
grounds,
Chipping of insect and the building rock,
Mingled like murmurs of a dreaming
shell;
Quaint tracery of bird and branch and
brook
Fitting across the pages Of his book
Until the very words freshness took;
Deep in his cell
Safe the Monk Gabriel.
In his book he read
The words the Matser to his dear ones
said:
"A little while and We
Shall see,
ho1 To.