St Vincent Seminary - Symposium Yearbook (Latrobe, PA)

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manifested an ever increasing lassitude of mind and body. He is now an aged man who thinks himself swiftly approaching the valley of shadows, never for a moment dreaming that his light was yet to shine before the world a decade longer, during which he was to become the object of singular honors. With the death of the saintly Pius IX in 1878 came the great Leo, who was asked by English Catholics to bestow some mark of recognition upon Father Newman for his great labors and sanctity of life. The curious series of incidents which preceded the presentation of this suggestion to the Pope through Cardinal Manning showed the old antipathy which had placed these two great characters, Manning and Newman, at odds with each other. Cardinal Manning, for some unaccountable reason, delayed for several months and the matter would have been forgotten, after the manner that had been customary where honors for Newman were concerned, had not the Duke of Norfolk intervened. Shortly after, a letter of recommendation reached the Pope and he, relaxing the Roman rule of residence, summon- ed Newman to Rome where he was made the recipient of such honors as even Rome scarcely ever beheld. But after the recep- tion of such signal honors, Newman, the champion of Catholicity in England, returned home and only his tiny red skullcap marked him as a Prince of the Catholic Church. He had traveled the high seas of life exposed to the merciless winds of doubt, of loneliness and of misunderstanding. Storm after storm had waged about him, but through them all he moved onward, trusting in the kindly light that never failed him. He spent the remaining years of his life in the amenities of friendship and in the duties of his office. Those who were with him during this period ever speak of his noble accomplishments, his charming personality and his wonderful sanctity of life. Thus he lived in intimate communion with God and fellowmen until death came and flights of angels sang him to rest. ln life he expressed the desire that his body be laid beside that of Ambrose St. John. This wish was fulfilled for his body was borne to the little cemetery and laid to rest beside this friend whom God had given him in those trying years of his life, when all others had failed him. Thus ended the life of him who sailed o'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent till the night had passed away, and upon other shores he beheld those angel faces smile whom he had loved long since and lost a while. l67ll

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fl illllllllllllii E c ' ,l QW Glimpses o Erm s National Bard THOMAS S REILLY A B Books are more than books they are life and everg heart and core of ages past -Amy Lowell ' HERE is a nation and a people of today who characterize their national events as those in which they have struggled for freedomg their national heroes as those who have val- iantlylived or died in the name of that f reedomg and their national bards, poets, and authors as those who have expressed these passions, hopes, and struggles, in undying words. Crushed though she has 'been, century after century, by the heel of the tyrant' fettered through her long night of bondage by, the slavish allllllllllllg ' N. , .4 vfymii. 3 Q , in m ' , 5 2 if 'X Q ' eg.. . - 7 . . , . . r u . x . 7 - ' aa . - n . . . . 1 1 v . illllllllllllltl - . . , . :llla . g : El-.5 allfllllllflla chains of oppression and injustice, no other nation can surpass in number or in merit the genius of her bards and writers in the cause of liberty and justice. Spurred to a pitch of vengeance, to a high hope for the full noon of freedom, through a half cen- tury by the vehement eloquence of such memorable orators as Burke, Sheridan, Grattan, and Plunkett-all of whom saw a more successful peer in the Great Tribune, O'Connell-Ireland at the close of the eighteenth century, once more sought liberty under its most gallant leader, Robert Emmett. With passion running high and hope beyond its possibilities, his efforts proved as ill-rewarded as those of innumerable others who had fought before him. However, the story of his gallantry, the expression of the nation's passions in these moments of undaunted courage and bravery, continue to be transported to present and to future times through the strains of Irish Melodies, composed by her illustrious bard whose life and hope were one witn his country Tom Moore Robert Emmett in the last moments of his life, struggling in the death-grip of the wounds of battle, cried to those who were with him: Let no man write my epitaph .... let my tomb re- main uninscribed till other times and other men shall learn to do justice to my memory The immortality of such thought and feeling is compassed only by the written inspiration of Moore Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade Where cold and itnhonor'd his relics are laid Sad silent and dark be the tears that we shed Il69ll umm mm: Ill? slllllla :I -. 'um umr As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. P 3