"It wears not the Franciscan's sheltering gown,
The cord that binds it is the stranger's chain:
Scarce seen for scorn, in fields of old renown
It breaks the clod; another reaps the grain.
"Year after year it fasts; each third or fourth
So fasts that common fasts to it are feast;
Then of its brethren many in the earth
Are laid unrequiem'd like the mountain beast.
"Where are its cloisters? Where the felon sleeps!
Where its novitiate? Where the last wolf died!
From sea to sea its vigil long it keeps—
Stern Foundress! is its rule not mortified?
"Thou that hast laid so many an order waste,
A nation is thine order! It was thine
Wide as a realm that order's seed to cast,
And undispensed sustain its discipline!"
The Catholic press in England, which at the commencement of this century was smitten with barrenness, now teems with ceaseless productions. Few of them, however, except those we have mentioned, are destined to form part of standard literature. Even Miss Adelaide Anne Procter's verses are not as widely appreciated as they deserve to be, though, during her lifetime, they obtained for her the reputation of being one of the most tuneful moralists that ever sung or breathed. Mrs. William Pitt Byrne has earned well of the public by the lively manner in which she has described so many Catholic countries, and the diligence with which she has collected her materials. Her works on Belgium, France—Paris in particular—Spain, and Hungary have supplied amusement and instruction to a large number of subscribers to circulating libraries, and have thus accomplished a great part of the purpose for which they were written. F. Faber's numerous volumes are too well known to need much comment on this occasion. They are intensely devotional, full of fervid eloquence, and rich with the coloring of a poetic mind. Many of his Hymns are popular, and will long remain so, because they are simple, forcible, and direct. Lady Georgina Fullerton has succeeded as a religious novelist, and has been the first as an English Catholic to occupy the ground which is now especially hers. Kenelm Digby's Ages of Faith, Compitum, and other works have a special charm for those who love choice quotations and pictures of mediæval piety; Mr. T. W. Allies has ably and valiantly defended the Papal supremacy; Mr. John Wallis has rendered Heyne's Songs in graceful English lyrics; Mr. Charles Waterton's Wanderings are deservedly prized by naturalists; Mr. Richard Simpson's Life of Campion displays much historical research; F. Morris has depicted admirably the sufferings of Catholic martyrs and confessors under the Reforming sovereigns; the Life of the Marquis of Pombal, by the Conde da Carnota (an English work), though too favorable to the Portuguese prime minister, is highly valuable so far as it is documentary; and the papers read before the Academia of the Catholic Religion, and published in two volumes, supply in themselves a test of the literary proficiency of many distinguished members of the church in England at the present time. The following works also deserve to be mentioned as valuable additions to the stock of English Catholic literature: The Evidence for the Papacy, by the Hon. Colin Lindsay; The Life of Cardinal Howard, by F. Palmer; Buckley's Life and Writings of the Rev. Father O'Leary; Christian Schools and Scholars, by the author of The Knights of S. John; Dr. Husenbeth's Life of Bishop Milner; Mr. Maguire's Rome, its Ruler and its Institutions; and Dr. Rock's Hierurgia.
Among Catholic poets, we ought not to forget Mr. Coventry Patmore, whose playful, pleasing, and thoughtful octosyllabics—The Angel of the House and Faithful for Ever—found many admirers ten or twelve years ago. There is in these fluent productions a simplicity which at first sight strikes one as namby-pamby, but which, on further consideration, is seen to be a light veil of serious thought and genuine emotion. There are minds which can never appreciate poetry of the highest order; who admire it only because they are taught that they ought to do so, but cannot love it, even though it be stamped with the approval of ages. "None ever loved because he ought" is true in reference to more subjects than one; and it is well that second-rate poetry should be written and preserved for second-rate appreciations. Mr. Coventry Patmore's works fulfil a purpose, and are therefore not to be despised, though they will never obtain a large reward.
It is to be hoped and expected that, as time goes on, Catholic literature in England will enlarge its borders without declining in orthodoxy. Colleges and universities yet to be founded will encourage learning in all its branches, and prove to the world by new examples that science and religion mutually support each other. The more firmly the children of the church are rooted in the faith, the more strength will their intellect acquire, and the more freedom will they be able to indulge with safety. The literary spirit, animated and guided by the true religion, will ever find new fields of useful speculation and research; and the rebuke of ignorance, so often cast on members of the church, will fall pointless when they are able to meet non-Catholic historians and professors on their own ground, and to rob them frequently of a crown in the arena of literary combat.
THE SONG OF ROLAND.
Among the epic romances of the middle ages, the first place must be given to the Song of Roland. It deserves this, not only on account of its antiquity, but also for the importance of the hero, and for the triumphant loss, as Montaigne would have called it, which it immortalizes. It is a chanson de geste, supposed to have been composed by Turold or Théroulde, a troubadour who lived during the first thirty years of the XIth century, though the only place where he is mentioned is the line with which the Bodleian MS. of the Chanson de Roland terminates.