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Philadelphia, Thursday, October 28, 1841.
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Whole Number 459
THE*’CATHOLIC HERALD
AS PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY
| M., FITHIAN,
No. 61 North Second Street, Philadelphia.
, Terms.—Three Dollars, per annum, payable half yearly
in advance. Five Dollars will be received for 2 copies, or 1
eopy for two years.’ All arrearages must be settled prior to
‘ordering a paper to be discontinued. © All Communications,
except from Agents, or Subserib enclosing remi
mustbe post paid, and: addressed *‘I'o the Editor of the
Catholic Herald, Philadelphia, Pa.”
“Poctry,
For the Catholic Uerald.
a : AN EULOG\,
tIa memory of Sister Rose White, late Mother-Superior of the
oe Sislers of Charity, at St. Joseph's Fale,
at "BY JAMES HOLLAHAN. “
: “ Omntbus flebilis™
fe L
“+ Tt eame—the maudate from on high,
* © “Which eall’d her spirit to the skies;
*Heav'n’s bright inhabitants stoud by,
. To lead her on to Paradise.
Pee I. :
\ ‘Thy friends, ah me! could they but stay,
“That cruel blast which all destroys;
In vain: it sweeps their hopes away,
_" But wafted Thee to endless joys.
® 7 ~ HL
in Heaven's eternal vale.
shines in her blest sphere
hy virtues. and thy worth shell still
‘ Shine ‘round the hearts that lov'd thee here,
.
©, For the Catholie Herald. :
NET ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.
SON
‘ " BY EDWARD J. PORTER.
“We mark the sun in all his glory sink
‘Beneath the far horizon, and we know
2) While richly round he pours his farewell glow—
' The clouds of murn back Irom his ray will shrink
“0 Within a few short hours—earth’s flowrets blow
+ Beneath his blush—streams sparkle while they flow
13 And heath-clad hill, and rock-based tower. tree, wave,
299 Wig whelming floods of splendor grandly |
“But will the morrow’s sua relight the eye,
© !fteanimate the clay, restore the boon
Phat heaven has claimed, has wrested, then the noon
“Of its all-glowing brightness gleumed on high,
Whose faded light we mourn, whose spirit flown,
“1+ » Baek from its pure sphere never may be won!
Philadelphia, Octaber, 1841.
| Romi!" On ‘account: of Peter and Paul T Jove
‘Rome, thongh I might celebrate it for other reasons.
Daniely, for its magnificence, antiquilys beauty, popu-
lation, power, wealth, and deeds of war, But passing
Gverall these things, I proclaim it blessed, especially
-beeause Paul in his life’, time was so attached to the
“Romans, and because he loved then so tenderly, and
instructed: them with his own. lips. and. closed his:
_ earthly ‘careeranongst them. “This has rendered. the |
‘city ‘more illustrious, than allits other. titles to adinira-
The bodies of these twa saints areas two bright
‘eyés'to this great body. ‘The sun in meridian splendor
“does not shine with equal lustre as the, city of the Ro-
‘wang shooting these rays of light throughout the Uni-
‘verse, Paul will be snaiched up hence: Peter like-
‘wise. Contemplate with awful aamiration the spectacle
AMhat Rome will then behold, namely, Paul suddenly
rising with Peter from the tomb, and borne aloft te meet
- the Lord, .. What a rose will Rome Preven ‘heist
Ho: two crowns wher ,
Cee ate gas the golden chains that bind
‘her! How delightful are her fountains! I celebrate
- this city on this account, not for her abundant wealth,
for for her lofty pillars, nor hor plendor that
strikes ihe eve, but for these pillars of the. Church.”
for any other splendor that |.
St, Joha Chrysostom, hoi. xssib, in Rom. -
4
From Mores Catholici; or, Ages of Faith,
ENGLAND .AS IT WAS AND IS.
* Towns still bear no other name but that of the saint
or martyr who first gave them renown,—a St. Alban,
a St Neot, aSt. Ives, or a St. Edmund. Our lonely
mountain sides still have crosses, whose rude form at-
test their Saxon origin, and still are there pious hands
among the simple people of those wild hills, to guard
them from profanati ‘The ‘sweet countenances of
saintly kings and holy abbots, carved in stone, are still
remaining over the solemn gates of venerable piles ;
and by the side of the pompous inscription, in more
than pagar. vanity, the antique slab is often -discerni-
ble, which humbiy invokes the prayer fora soul’s rest.
‘There too still How the same dark waters, o’er: whose
wave so often swept at midnight the peal of the con-
vent bell, or. was heard faintly chaunting the man of
blessed order, as he hastened on the errand of charity.
Lo, yonder are the shattered arches’ of some abbey,
on a river’s bank, more lonesome then the roads that
traverse desert wilds. It is Crowland, aud at that calm
and solemn hour .
Wheo near the dawn, the swallow her sal lay,
. Rememb’ring haply ancient grief, renews ;
When our minds, more wand’rers fiom the flesh,
And less by thought restrain‘d, are, as “twere, full
Of holy divination.)
You approach and kneel upon the spot. and the long
deserted walls of the ruined sanctuary wonder at the
pious stranger, who seems to hear alone, through a
benighted world, the torch of life. Where is now that
devout, assembly for the early sacrifice; where. that
rich and varied order, the gorgeous vestments, and the
bright gems, and al : .
The beautcous garniture of altars on a festal time f 2)
Our old historians dwell with delight upon the glory
of this place... They describe at length the altars of
gold, the: riehly painted windows, . the solemn organs
placed on high ever the entrance, the candelabras of
solid silver and ‘the processional cross, -the splendid
presents of the Mercian kings, of the emperors of Ger-
many, and princes of, France, the beautifal, buildings,
the greathosiel for the poor, and the ‘hall for. noble
gnests.(3) » They leave usto picture to ourselves the
benign countenance, of meditative age,- the cheerful
grace of angelic youth, the innocent joys of study, the
delights of unity and, peace, the psahnoily, the sweet
entonation of sublime prayer, the silence, the charity,
the faith so oft atiested at St, Guthlae’s shrine, the lives
of the saints, and the death of the just! Alas ! all are
gone, and nothing remains but a desolation, the mere
view of which chills. the heart; some moulJdering
arches, which each succeeding winter, threatens to lay
prostrate ; a line of wretched cabins, which shelter
some wild peaple, that seen ignorantof God and Christ,
untaaghtand sensual, like those who know notwhether |
there was such athing.as the, Holy Ghost, prepared
axsure the stranger that: these walls were once a
gaol, or a place built by the Romans, while all around |
you lies a dark and dismal fen, where a gibbet is more
likely to meet’ your-eye than a cross, the image of
death and not of redemption !.. The very earth seems
to mourn,—* Terram tenebrosam, et epertam mortis
calizine. terra miseriz et tenebrarum, ubi umbra mor-
tis, et nullus ordo. sed sempiternus horror inhabitat.””
Alas! what remained, for the sad pilgrim, but to smite
his. breast.and continue the accustomed ehaunt—
» Quid faciam miser 2 .ubi fugiam ? Anima mea tur-
bata est valde ; sed iua,. Domine, ‘succurre ei.” Ubiest
nune praestolauio mea? et patientianm meaut quis cons
siderat?. .‘Tu es, Domine, Deug mens.”* ‘
Yet he: who hath made. the nations of the earth
curable(4) leaves no man.without the sustenance which
is required for the peculiar wants of bis soul, and with-
out the ineans of salulary exercise. In the Worst of
times there are redeeming features, and objects of imi-
tation, such as what the Roman: historian specifies
jpga necessitas furtiter tulerata: et laudatis amiquo-
(1) Dante, Purp. i Nats
2) Dante, Pury. 1x. wets ol
o Vile Ingulplus Ilist. p. 9. Hist. Croylandensis Re-
rons, Anglic. Seript, war. i oa
ee Ai
+ (4) Sinabiles lecit aatjones orbis ferraru.n. Sap.
tom. tii, . L . .
1 Philosophio der Geschichte, ii, 25°,
rum mortibus pares exitus.’(5) And though our pomp
must needs admit the pale companion, though in de-
siring the return of the reign of truth, we have but
** wishes and tears, poor fancy’s followers ;”" yet still
are left some of those that have St. Thomas for a
guardian, to comfort and direct us on our’ way. We
may not be able to enjoy the lot of Samuel, who de-
parted not from the temple; but there are chapels on
the distant hills from before whose bright altars, setting
forth into the the darkness of night, having the stars
for companions, and no other solace but to chaunt again
by the way some of the sweet melodies which seem
still to linger around us, we may travel homewards,
and hope that each step has, been reckoned by an an-
gel. Wemay not be able to frequent the assemblies
of the holy people who worship in vast cathedrals, and
Tepeat with innumerable voices the solemn hymn which
marks the yearly return of some most holy time, but
we can walk alone in the woods and sing the Stabat
Mater, while the nightingale will lend her long, and
plaintive note to deepen and prolong the tones of that
sweet and melancholy strain, and then our tears will
fall upon the wild flowers, and we shall feel in com-
munion with the holy dead; with those who so oft had
sung it, sad and sighing, like the Beatrice of Dante, in
such a mood * that Mary, as she stood beside tie
cross, was scarce more changed."(6) Yes, beloved
land, that+would: so smile on gentle, lowly spirits,
land twice converted,(7) too fair to befor ever lost, thou
art still dear to all thy sons, but doubly so to such of
them as lament thy sad destiny; for thy sweet meadows
would cover themselves with the enamel of flawers to
grace the progress of Jesus Christ in the victim of the
altar; thy solemn wonde, would give shelter to the
lonely eremite, and thy bright streams would yield re-
freshment to the tabernacles of tte just ;—thy gerdens
would give roses to seatter before the adorable sacra-
ment, and thy towns and hamlets would send forth their
cheerful youth, children fair as the race of primal crea-
lures, to commence their flowery sprinkling. Thow
art still a noble instrument, though now: mute or dis-
cordant. -Ignorant and unskilful hands have played
upon thee till they broke thee into a thousand parts ;
but, though thus broken and. disarranged, let’ but the
master arise who can revive the Catholic chord, and
thou wilt again send forth the sweetest music.
Tris the remark of Frederick Schlegel that a love for
the romantic world of the middle ages, and of their
chivalry, has continued to characterize the poetry of
England, even, while the negative philosophy of hee
sophists has maintained its ground.(8) And thongh,
at the same time, for reasons which do not require a
sphinx to explain, the complaint of learned foreigners
is most just, that the literature and antiquities of our
ance-tors have been no where throughout the civilized
world more neglected than in England; yetitis equally
tene, and still more remarkable, that in this country
several old Catholic enstoms of the middle ages -hav
een transinitted down to us, as if protected in ice, t
be the astonishment of other nations Tris true they
have lost all the qualities of life; there is no spirk to
vivify, no mind to direct them, but sill the form, though
dead and motionless, has something in it imposing and
majestic ; nay, even pleasing and amiable, . Indeed, a
book mizht be composed on the latent Catholicism of
many natives of this country, where every thing solid
and valuable is, after all, either a remnant or a revival
of Catholic thinking or institution. Methinks it would
not be too much too suggest, from general principles,
that youth, at least evenin euch a country, can never
be essentially: opposed to Catholicism. (Cold, dry
negations, and that disdainful mood, however well it
may suit the breasts that wear it, are not congenial
with its warm and generously confiding nature. If it
Nee ee EEEEAEEEEEE TERETE
5) Tacitus, Hist, lib. 3. 3.
(6) Parg, xxiii. < Loy
(7) The priests of England bore upon their albs, on the
left shoulder, “ quast socipes de panno serice super assatas,”
the upper closed, in sign of there being but one faith, but the
jower divided, as a sign of their having been twice converted
to the faith, first by. the mixsionaries of Pope Eleatherius,
and secondly by St. Augustine. Chronicun Monasterii 8,
Bertini, cap. 1. par. 1. , Martene Thesaurus Avecdatarym,
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