Eye of the universe that seeth all,

And shapeth sight

In man and moth through curious visual ball
With fine delight.

O blessed beam, on whose refreshful might
Profusely shed

Six times ten years, with ever young delight,
Mine eye hath fed,

Still let me love thee, and with wonder new,
By flood and field

Worship the fair, and consecrate the true
By thee revealed!

And loving thee, beyond thee love that first
Father of Lights

From whom the ray vivific marvellous burst,
Might of all mights,

Whose thought is order, and whose will is law.
That man is wise

Who worships God wide-eyed, with cheerful awe And chaste surprise.

As

MESSIS VITE.

1886.

THE EMIGRANT LASSIE.

SI came wandering down Glen Spean,
Where the braes are green and grassy,

With my light step I overtook

A weary-footed lassie.

She had one bundle on her back,

Another in her hand,

And she walked as one who was full loath

To travel from the land.

Quoth I, "My bonnie lass; "-for she
Had hair of flowing gold,

And dark brown eyes, and dainty limbs,
Right pleasant to behold-

"My bonnie lass, what aileth thee

On this bright summer day, To travel sad and shoeless thus Upon the stony way?

"I'm fresh and strong, and stoutly shod,

And thou art burdened so;

March lightly now, and let me bear
The bundles as we go."

No, no!" she said; "that may not be ;
What's mine is mine to bear;

of good, or ill, as God may will,
I take my portioned share.”

"But you have two and I have none;
One burden give to me;

I'll take that bundle from thy back,
That heavier seems to be."

"No, no!" she said; "this, if you will, That holds-no hand but mine

May bear its weight from dear Glen Spean, 'Cross the Atlantic brine!"

"Well, well! but tell me what may be

Within that precious load

Which thou dost bear with such fine care Along the dusty road?

"Belike it is some present rare
From friend in parting hour;
Perhaps as prudent maiden's wont,
Thou tak'st with thee thy dower."

She drooped her head, and with her hand She gave a mournful wave:

"Oh, do not jest, dear sir!—it is Turf from my mother's grave!"

I spoke no word: we sat and wept
By the road-side together;
No purer dew on that bright day
Was dropt upon the heather.

Sir Samuel Ferguson.

1810-1886.

SAMUEL FERGUSON, the third son of John Ferguson, of Collon House, co. Antrim, was born at Belfast, on March 10th, 1810. He was educated at Belfast, and at Trinity College, Dublin; was called to the Irish bar in 1838; made Q.C. 1859, and appointed Deputy Keeper of the Public Records of Ireland 1867. In 1878 he received the honour of knighthood in recognition of his services in this office. Soon after his first arrival in Dublin he began contributing to the Dublin University Magazine English metrical versions of old Irish poems and ballads. He also published a series of tales in prose, entitled "Hibernian Nights' Entertainments," and dealing with early Irish history. These were reissued posthumously, together with other reprints, by Lady Ferguson in 1887. Other poems appeared in Blackwood's Magazine, including "The Forging of the Anchor," perhaps his best known poem. In 1865 he published a volume of collected poems entitled "Lays of the Western Gael"; in 1872 "Congal," an epic poem in five books, and in 1880 a third volume of Poems. He wrote many essays on Irish antiquities, and other subjects; and carried on lengthy investigations in various parts of Ireland in search of Oghams. A volume dealing with the subject, entitled "Ogham Inscriptions in Ireland, Wales, and Scotland," was posthumously published in 1887.

In 1882 he was unanimously elected President of the Royal Irish Academy. He died August 9th, 1886, and was buried at Donegore, co. Antrim,

In the view of some Sir Samuel Ferguson is entitled to rank as Ireland's national bard, the epic "Congal" being relied on as the basis of the claim. Others, while denying his supremacy, concede to him the right to divide honours with James Clarence Mangan in this regard. If love and labour for the cause of Irish literature might count it would be difficult to disprove Sir Samuel's claim, though even here it is impossible to ignore the work of Aubrey de Vere.

"Congal" has many brilliant passages, of which the selections quoted in the following pages will serve as examples. It may be doubted, however, whether any form of rhymed verse can for a moment compare with decasyllabic blank verse for the purposes of an epic. It requires almost superhuman strength to maintain an even wing of elevation in sweeping measures and florid forms. "The Lays of the Western Gael" are full of interest as narratives of Irish history, or reproductions of Irish originals, though they lack the atmosphere which Aubrey de Vere seems sometimes able to revive. To us there is an open-air freshness about such poems as "The Bird and the Brook" and "The Little Maiden ” ("Poems," 1880), which makes us wish that Sir Samuel Ferguson had given us more of himself, even at the expense of the national history he loved so well. "Willy Gilliland" is a spirited ballad, and "The Forging of the Anchor" a hearty ringing lay. The "Elegy on the Death of Thomas Davis" is a successful occasional poem.

ALFRED H. MILES.