"O mother, hear me yet before I die.
Hear me, O earth! I will not die alone,
Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me
Walking the cold and starless road of Death,
Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love
With the Greek woman. I will rise and go
Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth
Talk with the wild Cassandra, for she says
A fire dances before her, and a sound
Rings ever in her ears of armèd men.
What this may be I know not, but I know
That, wheresoe'er I am by night and day,
All earth and air seem only burning fire."

“THERE CAME THREE QUEENS FROM HEAVEN.” By W. W. YOUNG.

(Atlantic Monthly, November, 1878.)

It so befel that, once upon a time,
Before the shepherd Paris, as he roved,
Guarding his flocks, upon a slope of Ida,

There came three queens from heaven, to contest
The palm of man's approval, and they spake :

"Which of us three is fairest — which best worth
The winning? Choose! And as thy choice shall fall
Bestow the prize."

Then in his hand they placed
The apple of red gold, which Eris cast
Upon the banquet-table of the gods.

And first the royal Hera, spouse of Jove,
Preferred her suit:

"O Paris, hear me well!

Lo, this fair apple is thy golden youth,

Which, so thou barter wisely, wins for thee

Thy heart's most secret wish. But be thou warned, -
Once, and once only, shalt thou name thy choice,
And then keep silence. I am Hera, I,

And with this gift of gifts I make thee mine."

She ceased, and flashed before his dazzled sight
A naked sword, and on the blade was writ,
"Power!" But Paris mused a little space,
And turned aside and answered, "Let me hear."

Then spake the second, hollow-eyed and pale,
With sad, stern voice :

"I am Athena, I,

And these my attributes among the gods,
Knowledge, self-wisdom, virtue, self-control.
Short is my wooing. Wilt thou reign with me?
Take up thy sceptre."

At his feet she cast

A reed, in fashion like a poet's pen,

And on the shaft, graven in lines of fire,

A word of rapture, "Fame!" But Paris mused,

And turned aside and answered, "Let me hear."

Then third, the last and fairest yet of all,
The subtle Aphrodite, ocean-born,

Arose, and stood, a flower amid the flowers;
No word she spake, but waved her hand;
And lo! instant as in a dream of sorcery

He saw the Grecian Helen floating through

The dance of Bacchus, crowned with poppies of the field Fairer than light, her hair unbound, her eyes Radiant, her lips apart, as one who murmurs, "Follow ! follow! follow!" And ever onward, "Follow," fainter still, still farther, fainter;

Till the vision paled, and left him
Straining after, hands and eyes.

Then through the silence throbbed
A tender voice: "Behold my gift!"
And Paris said, "I choose!"

Yea with a mighty, heart-stirring, strong cry:
"Sweet are the dreams of Power; sweet is Fame:
But sweeter yet than all sweet things that be
Whether on earth, in heaven, sea, or air,

O Love, take thou my youth!"

And thereupon,

Whilst yet in air he tossed the golden sphere,
Whirled downward by a shrill and bitter wind
That waked the yelping foxes of the gorge,
And drove the screaming eagle to the crag,
And rapt away the daylight like a scroll,
Night fell on Ida, — night and loneliness,
Without the light of moon, or any star,
Save where above a rampart to the east
Red Mars came reeling, drunken from his wars,
And turned against the earth his bloody shield.

Compare "Enone" with "There came Three Queens from Heaven." Tennyson casts the story in the monologue form. Enone tells her woes in strong, passionate, sometimes bitter language. The second poem is a simple narrative, varied by presenting the appeals of the three queens in the first person. The question as to which leaves the more vivid impression on the mind will naturally arise. Discuss the artistic merit of the two poems.

IPHIGENIA.

THE story of Iphigenia appeals very strongly to our sympathies, whether we read it in prose or poetry. Her martyrdom at Aulis, that the Grecian fleet might

sail for Troy, is the subject of one of the most famous of the tragedies written by Euripides (480 B.C.).

Goethe's drama, "Iphigenia in Tauris," was first written in prose, and presented at the Court Theatre in Weimar about 1779. Goethe himself acted the part of Orestes.

Mrs. Jameson, writing of Goethe and his works, says: "His only heroic and ideal creation is the 'Iphigenia,' and she is as perfect and as pure as a piece of Greek sculpture.

"I think it a proof that if he did not understand or like the active heroism of Amazonian ladies, he had a very sublime idea of the passive heroism of female nature. The basis of the character is truth. The drama is the very triumph of unsullied, unflinching truth."

The student should not be content with these selected parts of the plays, but should read the entire dramas, and note that the work of the modern poet is the complement of that of the ancient poet, and so realize the influence of the literature of one nation, language, and time upon another.

The great French dramatic poet, Racine, has made the story of the sacrifice of Iphigenia the subject of one of his dramas. This is another evidence of the pervasive influence of Greek literature, which has furnished the foundation for many of the world's literary products through all ages.

IPHIGENIA IN AULIS.

EURIPIDES. [POTTER'S TRANSLATION.]

Iphigenia pleading with her father to spare her life:

Had I, my father, the persuasive voice
Of Orpheus, and his skill to charm the rocks
To follow me, and soothe whome'er I please
With winning words, I would make trial of it:
But I have nothing to present thee now
Save tears, my only eloquence; and those
I can present thee. On thy knees I hang

A suppliant. Ah! kill me not in youth's fresh prime.
Sweet is the light of heaven: compel me not

What is beneath to view. I was the first

To call thee father, me thou first didst call
Thy child. I was the first that on thy knees
Fondly caress'd thee, and from thee received
The fond caress. This was thy speech to me:
"Shall I, my child, e'er see thee in some house
Of splendor, happy in thy husband, live
And flourish, as becomes thy dignity?"

My speech to thee was, leaning 'gainst thy cheek,
Which with my hand I now caress, "And what
Shall I then do for thee? Shall I receive

My father when grown old, and in my house
Cheer him with each fond office; to repay
The careful nurture which he gave my youth?"
These words are on my memory deep impressed :
Thou hast forgot them, and wilt kill thy child.
By Pelops I entreat thee, by thy sire

Atreus, by this mother who before suffered for me,
And who now worse pangs will suffer,

Do not kill me. If Paris be enamored of his bride,