The Irish standard., 1914-06-27

noble thoughts, charming flow Of
diction, purity and grace that can
not be surpassed. Had he not died
so soon, of what would the world not
boast, for certainly genius, prompted
by the sweet quitetude of religious
life and such spirituality. could not
fail to produce works of the highest
order.
Francis Sylvester Mahony, more
popularity known by his nom de
plume, Father Prout. was born about
the year 1905. Doubtless his early
days were spent within the hearing
of 1.-THE Bells of Shandon," which he
has rendered immortal in his verse.
When a boy at college this famous
poem was written. and it is said that
on the walls of the room he occupied
are still found traces of the first
lines:
with deep affection and recollec-
ton,
I often think of those Shandon Bells,
Whose sounds so wild would in the
days of childhood.
Fling round my cradle their magic
SPELLS"
He was one of the best linguists
of the day. He published a Latin and
Greek version of Moore's Melodies,
which he pleasantly called Moore's
plagiarisms, much to the annoyance
of Moore, but to his own thorough
enjoyment. He translated into
French 1.-THE Groves of Barney" Its
author little thought that it would
one day be sung by Garibaldian
soldiers and resound in the groves
near Lake Como. Father Prout
cared little for politics. He was
quite opposed to the "Great Agita-
tor" which he took no pains to hide
in his Lay of Lazarus" His wit
is sparkling and bright, but he was
not man to attack work of con-
tinuous effort; he cared not for the
opinion of the world, but worked to
please his own fancy. He can honor
ably hold his place in the ranks of
the Masters of Comedy" His BIZ
ographer says of his works: "They
are put together like mosaics,, on lit
tie scraps of paper, bit by bit, tint
being added wherever he could pick
it up on his daily saunterings. The
gossips of the day never failed to
stir something good out of the full
caldron of the BRAIN"
1t is often, when the land is shak-
en- with revolutionary terrors, that
literary genius is more abundantly
found; the passions and feelings of
the people need an interpreter, and
the muse awakens to perform her
duty. It is not surprising, therefore,
that the years which closed the out
break of 1848 found the literary
path we'll filed. Among the number
none were more distinguished than
Thomas Osborne Davis, one of the
greatest of Ireland's poets. He was
born in 1914, and from his youth he
showed great love for the history,
language and antiquities of his
country. By profession he was
called to the bar. but he forsook it
for the wider and more troubled
arena of politics. He Joined the Re-
peal Association of O'Connell, and he
leading the way, a man of genius,
independence and high principles,
numerous others Joined the ranks of
O'Connell. A newspaper was COM
menced towards which Davis liberal
ly contributed, and through this he
stirred the revolutionary sentiments
of the people. Davis formed in the
Association a party known as the
Young Ireland's Party of the de-
signs of which O'Connell knew moth
ing, but when the struggle was at
its height the soul of the genius pas
sed to meet it's God.
His poetry is of the sweetest, ma
tional nature. 1.-THE Sack of Balti-
more" is without a rival in its des-
criptive powers; throughout there is
vein of exciting interest, covered
with true and deep pathos. His
best poem is his renowned ."Fonte-
noy." Its martial rythm awakens
your feelings as the words ring on
your ears:
"How fierce look those exiles wear,
who're wont to be so gay,
The treasured wrongs Of fifty years
are in their hearts to-day,
The treaty broken, e'er the ink
wherewith twas writ could
dry;
Their plundered homes, their ruined
shrines, their woman's part
ing cry,
Their priesthood hunted down like
wolves, their country over
thrown
Each looks as if revenge for all was