Loyola University Maryland - Evergreen / Green and Gray Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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THE LOYOLA ANNUAL 13 C oric Otie. (A Translation.) Melodious Voice of Zeus, with what intent Com’st thou from Delphi’s gold-adorned shore To far-famed Thebes? For I in fear am bent Upon the rack, my limbs all trembling o’er. Come thou, O Dalian Voice, whom now I dread. What fate hast thou in store for me? oh say Is’t new or old that in the circling course Of bygone years has tread? Tell me, O child of life’s bright golden ray, Apollo, sprung from ancient, god-like source. And first on thee, Jove’s child, ambrosia-fed. And on thine earth-upholding kin I call, Minerva thou, and Artemis, whose head Adorns the golden throne about the Hall; Thou, too, far-darting Voice, and ye three fates That o’er my fate well-wishing guardians stand. Be kind to me; and if, when former woe Hung o’er the city’s gates. Ye drove the fiery pests from out the land. So now to me yourselves propitious show. ‘ Ye gods, for on my soul press countless woes. And all my city, held in sickness, lies; Nor is there any plan to check the foes That mind of mortal man can now devise. No more the fields their fruits in plenty bring. Nor do the mothers fraught with child survive Their travail: you may see them more and more Like birds of steady wing And swifter than the fiery lightning’s dive Departing on to Pluto’s western shore.

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12 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL blindly and in vain. What the same effort could accomplish under the personal direction of a living and speaking teacher there is no need of emphasizing. The doubt would be pro- posed at once, discussed, explained by the teacher and at last cleared for the student, whose intellect would then be pre- pared for new and more arduous v ork. So in saying that the I. C. S. does not make the best possible use of its advan- tages, or even does not accomplish with them as much as a living teacher could, is not, we feel confident, arraigning this system of schools too severely. And as for the possibility of their ever replacing education, it is too improbable to discuss very seriously. The best which the I. C. S. can produce, or ever aims to produce, is a workman well informed in the common requirements of his trade. He is scarcely well trained, as that word implies the personal supervision of a living teacher, who corrects and directs until his pupil has acquired for himself the knowl- edge or practical habit for which he is being trained. And to maintain that the correspondence schools are a source of liberal education, or guide the mind along any broad lines of culture, is to show the absurdity of the thought in its very expression. There is no development of the three great facul- ties in correspondence schools, and as far as can be judged from its circulars there is no attempt at such development. The aim of the system, as recorded, in the beginning, is “ to raise salaries.” It imparts to each student limited knowl- edge of a very limfited subject, and, v hile the I. C. S. may turn out a reliable steam fitter or bookkeeper, the system will labor in vain to produce those two choicest specimens of human nature, the true product of education — the gentleman and the scholar. Edwin L. Leonard, ’10.

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14 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL Lo, in the city untold numbers die, While round about, despised, denied a grave, The unmourned offsprings fever-laden lie; And timid wives and white-haired mothers rave And raise their suppliant hands against such pain, While here and there along the altar s strand The cries of woe with sorrowful paeans blend In one grand rhythmic strain. For this, O child of Jove, immortal, grand. To me thy bright and fair-faced courage send. Grant that the mighty Mars, who now unshorn Of brazen shield, with shouts attacks and binds Me round, may in a backward course be borne From out the land and, sped by fav’ring winds. E’en to Atlantic’s farthest western bay Or Thrace’s wild inhospitable sea. For what escapes the bloody hands of night Falls into those of day. Slay him, O Father Jove, who vauntest thee The god of thunder, fierce with fiery light. And now from gold-strung bow, wolf-slaying Sire, Send forth thy ccnqu’ring darts to cure our ills. Well-mixed with shafts of Artemis, charged -with fire With which she flashes through the Lycian hills. And last, O bright-faced god of mirth, on thee I call, thou by whose name is known our land. And when Maenadic hosts surround, come thou Our friend and helper be; And with thy bright and ever-flaming brand Drive forth the god whom all dishonor now. Charles H. Foley, ’ll.