And so, for the sake of old friendship, I ven

ture to tell you the truth

And you? Have you aimed at the highest? Have you too aspired and prayed?

Go measure yourself by her standard; look

back on the years that have fled; Then ask, if you need, why she tells you

that the love of her girlhood is dead.

She cannot look down to her lover: her love, like her soul, aspires;

He must stand by her side or above her who would kindle its holy fires.

Now farewell! For the sake of old friendship I have ventured to tell you the truthAs plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our earlier youth.

Hath the sun in his wrath chased their brightness away,

As though nothing that's lovely might live for a day?

THE TZAR AND THE SHEPHERDS. FROM THE RUSSIAN OF DMITRIEV.

THE

HE tzar has wandered from the citygate

remain,

But the dewdrops have fled from their petals again."

"My child," said the father, "look up to the skies;

Behold yon bright rainbow, those beautiful dyes:

There, there are the dewdrops in glory re

set;

'Midst the jewels of heaven they are glittering yet.

And thus he mused: "What troubles equal mine?

That I accomplish when I purpose this.

In vain I bid the sun of concord shine, And toil unwearied for my subjects' bliss: Its brightness lasts a moment, and the tzar For the state's safety is compelled to war. God knows I love my subjects-fain would bless them,

But oft mistake, and injure and oppress

them.

ray

To mourn not for beauty, though fading

away;

For if youth in its freshness and beauty be riven,

My people sigh and groan: I share their

pain,

And struggle to relieve them, but in vain."

Thus mused the lord of many nations; then

hair,

Invoking death in agonized despair.

"Behold my picture," said His Majesty : "Here is another sovereign, just like me; I'm glad to know vexations travel far And plague a shepherd as they plague a tzar."

And on he moved in more contented moodWhither, he knew not; but beyond the wood

He saw the loveliest flock that ever grazed, And lingered, mute with wonder, as he gazed.

How strong! how sleek! how satisfied! how

fair!

Wool soft as silk, and, piled in luxury there, Its golden burden seemed too great to bear; The lambs, as if they ran for wagers, playing,

Or near their dams, or far, securely straying, The shepherd, 'neath the linden tree, Tuned his pipe most joyfully!

"Ah!" said the tzar, "ye little think
How close ye stand on danger's brink :
The uncharitable wolf is near,
And he for music has no ear."

And so it was as if the wolf had heard,
Advancing in full gallop he appeared.

But the dogs the wily traitor knew,
Sprung up and at the robber flew :

His blood has for his daring paid,

eye

For very wantonness and cruelty.
Thrice had he pierced his target in the
At fifty paces; twice defloured a rose,
Striking each time the very leaf he chose;
Then he set up his dagger in a hedge,
And split an arrow on its glittering edge.
What next to hit he knew not. Looking
round,

He saw a stork just lighted on the ground
To rest itself after its leagues of flight:
The dewy walk in which it stood was bright,
So white its plumage, and so clear its eyes,
Twinkling with innocence and sweet surprise.
"I'll shoot the silly bird," the prince ex-
claimed ;

And, bending his strong bow, he straightway aimed

His keenest arrow at its panting heart.

The poor thing tumbled in a lily-bed,
And its blood ran and made the lilies red.
It marked the changing color of the flowers,
The winding garden-walks, the bloomy bow-

ers,

Large as a pigeon's egg and red as wine.
At last he slumbered in the pale moonshine.
Meantime, the watchful stork was in his
bowers;

Again it saw its blood upon the flowers,

glee,

Fixing the picture in its memory;

This done, it struggled up and flew away, Leaving the prince amazed and in dismay.

Beyond the city walls a league or more
A little maid was spinning at her door,
Singing old songs to cheer the long day's
work.

Her name was Heraclis. The fainting stork
Dropped at her feet, and with its ebon bill
Showed her its thigh, broken and bleeding
still.

She fetched it water from a neighbor spring, And while it drank and washed each dabbled wing

She set the fractured bones with pious care And bound them with the fillet of her hair. Eased of its pain, again it flew away, Leaving the maiden happier all the day.

But not the cruel prince: no prince was there;

up

So and down the spacious courts it flew,
And ever nearer to the palace drew.
Passing the lighted windows row by row,
It saw the prince and saw the ruby's glow;
Hopping into his chamber, grave and still,
It seized the precious ruby with its bill,
And, spreading then its rapid wings in flight,
Flew out and vanished in the yearning night.
Night slowly passed, and morning broke
again;

There came a light tap on the window-pane
Of Heraclis. It woke her; she arose,
And, slipping on in haste her peasant-clothes,
Opened the door to see who knocked, and,
lo!

In walked the stork again, as white as snow,
Triumphant with the ruby, whose red ray
Flamed in her face, anticipating day.
Again the creature pointed to its thigh,

moon,

Emeralds June,

head,

And one great ruby that outshone them all,