hand. What was her dismay when she saw Pyramus
stretched lifeless on the ground. Kneeling down beside him, she washed
his wound with her tears, and kissed his cold lips, calling on him in
vain to speak. "Speak to me, Pyramus," she cried, "'tis your beloved
Thisbe that calls."

At the sound of her voice Pyramus opened his failing eyes, and gave
his love one last look, then he closed them for ever. When Thisbe saw
her own cloak and the empty sheath, she guessed that, thinking her
dead, he had sought death himself.

"'Twas by your own hand you fell," she cried, "a victim to love, and
love will give my hand strength to do the like. Since those who were
parted in life are united in death, perhaps our sorrowing parents will
grant us the boon of a common tomb. May we rest side by side, even as
we have fallen, and may this tree, which has witnessed our despair and
our death, bear the traces for evermore. Let its fruit be clothed in
mourning garb for the death of two hapless lovers."

With these words she threw herself on the sword of Pyramus. Her last
prayer was granted, for one urn held the ashes of the faithful pair.
And since that night the mulberry tree bears purple fruit to recall to
all generations of lovers the cruel fate of Pyramus and Thisbe.

ORPHEUS

ADAPTED BY ALICE ZIMMERN

Orpheus, the Thracian singer, was the most famous of all the musicians
of Greece. Apollo himself had given him his golden harp, and on it he
played music of such wondrous power and beauty that rocks, trees
and beasts would follow to hear him. Jason had persuaded Orpheus
to accompany the Argonauts when they went to fetch back the golden
fleece, for he knew that the perils of the way would be lightened by
song. To the sound of his lyre the Argo had floated down to the sea,
and he played so sweetly when they passed the rocks of the Sirens that
the dreadful monsters sang their most alluring strains in vain.

Orpheus wedded the fair nymph Eurydice, whom he loved dearly, and who
returned his love. But at their marriage the omens were not favorable.
Hymen, the marriage god, came to it with a gloomy countenance and the
wedding torches smoked and would not give forth a cheerful flame.

Indeed the happiness of Orpheus and Eurydice was to be but
short-lived. For as the new-made bride wandered through the woods with
the other nymphs a poisonous serpent stung her heel, and no remedy
availed to save her. Orpheus was thrown into most passiona