he startled soul.

--Mrs. Sigourney

JUPITER AND HIS CHILDREN

A Classic Fable

Once, on sublime Olympus, when
Great Jove, the sire of gods and men,
Was looking down on this our Earth,
And marking the increasing dearth
Of pious deeds and noble lives,
While vice abounds and meanness thrives,--
He straight determined to efface
At one fell swoop the thankless race
Of human kind. "Go!" said the King
Unto his messenger, "and bring
The vengeful Furies; be it theirs,
Unmindful of their tears and prayers,
These wretches,--hateful from their birth,--
To wipe from off the face of earth!"
The message heard, with torch of flame
And reeking sword, Alecto came,
And by the beard of Pluto swore
The human race should be no more!
But Jove, relenting thus to see
The direst of the murderous three,
And hear her menace, bade her go
Back to the murky realms below.
"Be mine the cruel task!" he said,
And, at a word, a bolt he sped,
Which, falling in a desert place,
Left all unhurt the human race!
Grown bold and bolder, wicked men
Wax worse and worse, until again
The stench to high Olympus came,
And all the gods began to blame
The monarch's weak indulgence,--_they_
Would crush the knaves without delay!
At this, the ruler of the air
Proceeds a tempest to prepare,
Which, dark and dire, he swiftly hurled
In raging fury on the world!
But not where human beings dwell
(So Jove provides) the tempest fell.
And still the sin and wickedness
Of men grew more, instead of less:
Whereat the gods declare, at length,
For thunder bolts of greater strength
Which Vulcan soon, at Jove's command,
Wrought in his forge with dexterous hand.
Now from the smithy's glowing flame
Two different sorts of weapons came:
To _hit_ the mark was one designed;
As sure to _miss_, the other kind.
The second sort the Thunderer threw,
Which not a human being slew;
But roaring loudly, hurtled wide
On forest-top and mountain-side!

MORAL

What means this ancient tale? That _Jove_
In wrath still felt a parent's love:
Whatever crimes he may have done,
The father yearns to spare the son.

--John G. Saxe

THE PRAYER OF SOCRATES

_Socrates_

Ere we leave this friendly sky,
And cool Ilyssus flowing by,
Change the shrill cicala's song
For the clamor of the throng,
Let us make a parting prayer
To the gods of earth and air.

_Phaedrus_

My wish, O Friend, accords with thine,
Say thou the prayer, it shall be mine.

_Socrates_

Th