wild garb of tradition, and take upon themselves the semblance of historic truth. And from that day till the time "when spiritual weapons were employed to aid political schemes, and the Catholic spirit of the Church was narrowed down to party purposes," Ireland was eagerly sought as the green retreat where Christianity could be embraced and piety professed undisturbed and unmolested. Great changes require time to develop them, and it was long after St. Patrick landed ere Ireland attained the height of her glory. The great Apostle had a difficult task to achieve. He came to found the Church; to disseminate among that wild barbarian race the mild doctrines of the gospel. It was no easy effort to reconcile the wild and jarring elements of which that chaos was composed, to remove their ancient prejudices, and to unite them. all under the bond of one common brotherhood. Elsewhere Christianity had progressed but slowly, and often had gained a foothold only by wading through seas of blood. It was different here. The great Apostle came clothed with "peace and goodwill towards men." Mildly and humbly did he proclaim the object of his mission: gently did he lead them from their ancient worship to the worship of the one true God, and through his labors did Christianity, as hath been aptly said, "burst forth at the first ray of apostolic light, and with the sudden ripeness of a Northern summer, at once covered the whole land." Nor was this ripening premature. How could it be in such a cause? There was no blood shed, no temples destroyed, no persecution in this glorious revolution; all was quietly yet surely done, and Ireland was brought under the dominion of the Gospel. Softly did Boyne's waters flow, brightly did the morning sun illumine Tara's walls, and sweetly did the harp give forth its anthems as round the baptismal font princes and subjects in humble adoration knelt, and received the sign of the Holy Cross. The work was done, the Church was founded, and Ireland was numbered among Christain lands. From this time her course was onward. valries were forgotten, and a generous emulation in piety and in learning, took the place of commotion and of bloodshed. Not that war was unknown-would that it had been !—but too often among the peaceful scenes that are described do we "catch a glimpse of furious combat raging." Yet the change Religion had wrought, was a great one, for these combats ceased to be objects of univer

Her ancient ri

sal attention, and scenes of blood lost their once strong attraction. Nor was this change an evanescent one, the mere enthusiasm of novelty which was quickly to subside. It was real, permanent. The doctrines, the belief which the Irish had so readily embraced, and to which they clung with such fervor, were deeply enshrined in their hearts, and no external force could uproot them.

And now the drama changes. The seeds planted by St. Patrick begun to yield an abundant harvest. In the beginning of the sixth century, the day of intellectual brightness began to dawn and ere its close, Ireland could number among her holy men those whose name is yet held in reverence by the Christian world. Such an one was St. COLUMBA. His name is indicative of his character. Simple and humble in his life, high-minded and firm when duty was concerned, and versed in ecclesiastical learning, he was well fitted to extend his Master's kingdom. He left Ireland and chose Scotia as the scene of his exertions. Britain and the Western Isles both felt the effects of his endeavors. Once he revisited his native land, and then he returned to Iona, the Isle of his heart, and there, in front of the altar which he had raised, and with his hands clasped in prayer to that God whom it had been his endeavor to serve, he breathed his last. 'Twas a fitting place

for such a scene.

Ireland

His namesake COLUMBANUS merited the same renown. claims him as her child, France owns him as her instructor, and Italy preserves his remains. Tell me not that it takes away from Ireland her glory, that other lands were the theatres of the labors of these holy men. They were missionaries, and other lands needed their labors, but the renown they gained was for Ireland as well as for themselves, and secured for her the appellation of the "Island of the holy and the learned." There is hardly a nation in Europe but acknowledges their care. Ask Germany what Ireland did for her, and she will point you to the sees of Franconia and Saltzburgh filled in the eighth century by the Irish Bishop, St. KILIAN and St. VIRGILIUS. Other States will gladly bear witness to Irish piety and Irish learning.

France will tell you of her CLEMENT and ALBINUS, Italy speaks of DONALDUS, and Spain make mention of LEDULIUS.

The Scroll of history during the sixth, seventh and eighth centuries, is filled with relations of those holy men who braved the dangers of the sea, and found their home in every land. Philoso

And this fact may serve to corthat he possessed philosophic

phy as well as religion and learning is indebted to Ireland, and remembers with respect the name of ERIGENA. He was the first in modern Europe to construct a system of Philosophy, and his appearance at that day, and the character of his system, are singular facts, and constitute an historical enigma. He founded no school, perhaps because the unsettled State of the times was unfriendly to philosophic study. roborate what his works show, genius of the highest order. He took the ideas of the oriental school for a basis, and drew from them a vast system of Pantheism. He asserted "that all things are God, and God all things, God the Maker and the Made in all," and "under all phenomena, all diversities; he acknowledged nothing real but God, because His intelligence embraces all things, and intelligence is all things." A dangerous assertion, and one which closely borders on spiritual Pantheism. Yet it is natural ERIGENA should have made it, for it was the necessary result of his combining and identifying philosophy with religion. Still, though many of his views were erroneous, he yet did vast service to Philosophy, for which he will ever be remembered. And now again the scene changes. Gladly would we draw a veil over the subsequent history of Ireland,-willingly would we leave her as she was in the ninth century, but the day that dawned with such intellectual brightness, now began to sink in a night of darkness and of ignorance. Strife and insurrection recommenced-invasion and aggression followed. The church was lowered from that high eminence on which she should ever stand, and became corrupted by the political discord of the land. Faster and faster was the decay, deeper and deeper grew the darkness, and Ireland finally sank into a night of darkness, of superstition She lost her name of " Sacred Isle," she lost her liberty, her all.

Boyne's waters still softly flow, but the rays of the setting sun fall not on Tara's walls, for they have kissed the dust; and the harp that once rang so proudly through her halls is heard no more, save when, touched by the cold hand of despair, it faintly murmurs "Truth and Liberty are flown, and Ireland is no more." We can only hope that the present "night of darkness is far spent," and that soon another day of intellectual brightness shall dawn, that will light Ireland to that eminence upon which she stood A THOUSAND YEARS AGO.

MUSINGS IN FERRARA.

NO. II.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS IN ROME."

There are other subjects for musing in Ferrara, besides the dark tragedy of Parasina. Those were thoughts of the night, as we looked out on the gloomy castle where it occurred, and saw the garden in which the lovers met and the court yard where they expiated their crime. But morning came, and with it brighter recollections of the past-remembrances of her poets whose names still live in Italian literature, and by whom to be mentioned is immortality, while many of princely birth who then despised their muse, now live only as names in some musty chronicle.

"They had no poet, and they died."

As Florence in every part speaks to us of Dante, and Avignon of Petrarch, so here we are surrounded by memorials of Ariosto. Although not a native of Ferrara, yet he was related to the House of Este, and here spent most of his life, the favorite of Cardinal Hippolito d'Este, brother of the reigning Duke. The house in which he was educated-the Casa degli Ariosti-is still standing, and one of the show places of the city. The old woman who acts as custode will take you to the chamber where the poet with his brothers and sisters performed the fable of Thisbe and the comic pieces of his own composition. We doubt, however, whether she herself has any clear idea who Ariosto was, though she drawls out her tale so glibly for the edification of visitors. Her views of the source of his true greatness are probably as indistinct and cloudy as those of the Neapolitan peasants who live about the tomb of Virgil, and whose only idea about him is that he was a great magician!

When Ariosto's father died he removed to another house, which, through the liberality of the Duke, he was enabled to build; and this, for the remainder of his life, was his residence

when at Ferrara. It is a plain and modest dwelling, and when some visitor to the poet expressed his surprise, that one who had described so many palaces, had not a finer house for himself, he replied, that the palaces he built cost him nothing. During this century the city has purchased it, and it is now retained as one of their national monuments. Over the door has been placed the inscription, composed by the great poet himself:

"Parva sed apta mihi, sed nulli obnoxia, sed non

Sordida, parta meo sed tamen ære domus."

It was here that he wrote his grand heroic poem of Orlando Furioso. It is a history of chivalric adventures in love and war, and mingled with them wild accompaniments of the supernatural, in which that age so much delighted; enchantments and transformations, and even moral and religious allegory. It is a work which will always hold a lofty rank among the productions of human genius; and as we looked upon Titian's noble portrait of Ariosto, in the Manfreni palace at Venice-the thoughtful countenance, high brow, and black sparkling eyes-we felt that it was the look of one who, even in an age of superstition, could expose, as he has done, the arts which deluded the mass, and could satirize with boldness priestly frauds and forgeries.

Yet poetry in that age dealt not entirely in theology. Its great theme was love, and when the poet wrote of chivalry, it was because brave knights and fair ladies were so intimately associated in his mind. But each one in those days had his own object of love, whom he immortalized in his imperishable verses. Thus the idol whom he worshipped during life became an object of interest to succeeding centuries, and those who came after felt that to understand the poet's lines they must know the divinity to whom they were consecrated. From her came the high imaginings and the glorious fancies which sparkle in his verse; and while she gave him inspiration, he repaid her with fame. So it was with Dante and his Beatrice, and Petrarch and his Laura. Their own lives furpish a key to the poems which made them immortal.

With Ariosto it is more difficult to trace the progress of his affections. Though passionate in his attachments, yet from chivalry of feeling he involved their object in a mystery which now it is sometimes hard to unravel. To his first love, a Florentine