NOTES

New Zealand Tablet, 25 September 1919, Page 26

NOTES

The Wave-Line A. correspondent asks us to mention an Irish song* in English in which the "wave-line" rhythm is discernible easily. The first song that occurs to us as an illustration is "Erin, the Tear and the Smile," in which anybody hearing the air sung cannot help following the rising and falling of the music which gives at once the true Assonance of the lines. And, of course, the same applies to "Eileen Aroon." As another instance we might select "The Coulin," which, in our humble opinion, is the loveliest of all the old Irish airs. In its music you hear not only the waves, but also the wind of passion that smites them and beats them and makes itself heard through them. Best of all, when played on a violin, the full, weird, mysterious power of this air is felt. Familiarity with such music enables one to read without any trouble many an Irish poem which loses its charm for those who have never had the key to the proper way to read it. We do not remember ever hearing of a traditional Irish singer in New Zealand. We know that the Wexford Reel has been performed successfully, and perhaps there are a few among us who could sing an Irish song in the traditional manner. Marion Crawford We noticed recently that cheap editions of Marion Crawford's, books are again in evidence in our book stores. We are glad to see some sign that the public are manifesting an interest in this sane and wholesome Catholic novelist. You will seek in vain among modern writers of fiction for one who, on the whole, is up to Crawford's standard. In spite of his prodigious output, his novels are really good, from- any point of view. Personally, we find him far more readable than Meredith or Hardy, andwith a few exceptions—than

Scott. Books like Zoroaster . and Via Cruris ought not to be forgotten by readers to-day when they are looking for a good story. The Cigarette Maker's Romance is a delightful .little novel that has a charm and a grace reminiscent of Henry Harland. And in the Saracinesca series. of Italian <s novels there is a treasure -in: store for those who have not yet read them. Some of them we have read more than once, and hope to read again. The Roman Singer and Mar zip's Crucifix stand out by themselves from the other Italian tales. The former is particularly good. May we remind anybody, who is sufficiently interested in Catholic progress to promote a parochial library, that' Crawford's novels ought to be on the shelves set apart for fiction. We would like to arouse our readers' curiosity regarding the writings of Marion Crawford's sister, Mrs. Hugh Fraser. Her Italian Yesterdays and More Italian Yesterdays are good reading. More Americans Before we leave the subject, let us point out that librarians could do far worse than select for their readers some of the works of certain old American writers. Washington Irving's Sketch Book is a classic that everybody ought to read. His Jiracebridge Hall was one of the books that kept us in silence many a winter's evening by a hearth that we may never see glowing again. We recommend Holmes's Breakfast Table series for its kindly, human philosophy and its gentle humor. Nathaniel Hawthorne left us in The Marble Faun'a. wonderful novel about Borne which we would never willingly be without. Henry Harland whom we have already named wrote a few lovely stories which Catholics ought not to neglect. In his Cardinal's Snuffbo.e, Mjl Friend l'n><pern, and The i!<>>/al End, you will find books worth while reading thoughtfully. llis style is as light and graceful as John Ayscough's. and there is an atmosphere of sunshine in all his novels. If you want some poets to put beside the foregoing. America will give you Lowell, Longfellow, Father Ryan, and Father Tabb. . «• Padraic Colum One of the moulders of the new Irish drama was Padraic Colum, who with John Synge, and only less than Synge, gave form and character to the plays made famous a decade ago in the Abbey Theatre. Besides his plays, to which we will refer on another occasion, Colum wrote much poetry, and achieved no inconsiderable success among the singers of the Revival. He could dash off in a few great lines a wonderful picture of stark realism, producing in verse an effect somewhat analogous to what A. E. or Jack Yeats can do in painting. His poems are as a rule simple verses telling of the life of sons and daughters of the soil, and in this sphere he has the power- to inspire a little genre sketch with meaning as rich as one finds in Millet's Angelas. A fine example of his best stylo is the following:—An Old Woman of the Roads. Oh, to have a little house, To own the hearth, the stool and all The heaped-up sods upon the fire, The pile of turf against the wall ! To have a clock with weights and chains, And pendulum swinging up and down ! A dresser filled with shining delph. Speckled and white and blue and brown ! I could be busy all the day Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor, And fixing on their shelf again My white and blue and speckled store'. I could be quiet there at night Beside the fire and by myself, Sure of a bed and loth to leave ;. The ticking clock and shining delph. ; ; \.

> Och ! but I'm weary of mist and dark, « : ..,,.■/-' - And roads where there's never a 'house or bush, And tired I am of bog and road, And the crying wind and the lonesome hush! „ r ;"' : And lam praying 1 to God' on high, ■ ' And I am praying to Him night and day, For a little house—a house of my own Out of the wind's and the rain's way. As a sample of his realism the following lines will serve: —. '■ ' - '■■ ■■ ,'■■'■ ■....•..,;•..,.. •.-.;■ -. ;;. O the smell of the beasts, .The wet wind in the morn, ; v And the proud, hard earth ; Never broken for corn ! . Padraic Colum may not be a great poet, but he is sincere to the core, and though we cannot place him beside Moira O'Neill and Ethua Carberry, we must admit that he has plenty of admirers who can put him even higher. f