Transfigured at the wedding-feast,
Earth's grapes are heavenly wine.
Where cowled monk with soul of fire
Struck vice athwart the face,
With God's anointed sword of truth
That flashed with beams of grace.
O bitter days of war and strife!
Heaven's ardor was too great;
The Empire of the earth held sway
And sealed with saddest fate.
Methinks I hear from thy strong lips,
O century-dowered bell!
The story of the Whites and Blacks,
As banners rose or fell;
Methinks I hear an epic voice,
Full of God's love and power,
With accent of an Exile sad
Speaking from out thy tower!
NAME OF MARY
By John Boyle O'Reilly
Dear, honored name, beloved for human ties,
But loved and honored first that One was given
In living proof, to erring mortal eyes,
That our poor flesh is near akin to heaven.
Sweet word of dual meaning: one of grace,
And born of our kind Advocate above;
And one, by mercy linked to that dear face
That blessed my childhood with its mother-love,
