Mother Earth, are the heroes dead?

Do they thrill the soul of the years no more?
Are the gleaming snows and the poppies red
All that is left of the brave of yore?
Are there none to fight as Theseus fought,
Far in the young world's misty dawn?
Or to teach as gray-haired Nestor taught?
Mother Earth, are the heroes gone?

Gone? In a grander form they rise.

Dead? We may clasp their hands in ours, And catch the light of their clearer eyes,

And wreathe their brows with immortal flowers. Wherever a noble deed is done,

'T is the pulse of a hero's heart is stirred; Wherever Right has a triumph won,

There are the heroes' voices heard.

Their armor rings on a fairer field

Than the Greek and the Trojan fiercely trod ;
For Freedom's sword is the blade they wield,
And the gleam above is the smile of God.
So, in his isle of calm delight,

Jason may sleep the years away;

For the heroes live, and the sky is bright,
And the world is a braver world to-day.

EDNA DEAN PROCTOR.

Moonlight.

"NAY, wait me here - I'll not be long;
'T is but a little way;

I'll come ere you have sung the song
I made you yesterday.

"T is but to cross yon streak of light,—
And fresh the breezes blow;

You will not lose me from your sight,-
One kiss, and now I go !"

So, in the pleasant night of June,
He lightly sails away,

To where the glimmer of the moon
Lies right across the bay.

And she sits singing on the shore
A song of pure delight;

The boat flies on —a little more,
And he will cross the light.

The boat flies on, the song is done,
The light before him gleams;
A little more, and he has won !
'T is farther than it seems.

The boat flies on, the boat flies fast;
The wind blows strong and free ;
The boat flies on, the bay is past,
He sails into the sea.

And on, and on, and ever on,
The light lies just before;
But oh, forevermore is done
The song upon the shore!

ROBERT KELLEY WEEKS.

The Song of Korek.

'Twas on the night of Michaelmas that lordly Orloff's heir Wed with the noble Russian maid, Dimitry's daughter

fair.

With mirth and song, and love and wine, that was a royal

day;

The banners streamed, the halls were hung in black and

gold array.

The Twelve Apostles stood in brass, each with a flambeau

bright,

To blaze with holy altar sheen throughout the festive night.

The rings were changed, the tabor rolled, the Kyrie was

said;

The boyard father drew his sword, and pierced the loaf of bread.

Soon as the priest did drain his cup, and put his pipe

aside,

He wiped his lip upon his sleeve, and kissed the blushing bride.

That very night to Novgorod must hasten bride and heir, And Count Dimitry bade them well with robe and bell prepare.

And when from feast and wedding-guest they parted at the door,

He bade two hunters ride behind, two hunters ride before.

"Look to your carbines, men," he called, "and gird your ready knives!"

With one accord they all replied, "We pledge thee with our lives!"

I was the haiduk of that night, and vowed, by horses

fleet,

Our sleigh must shoot with arrow speed behind the coursers' feet.

We journeyed speedy, werst by werst, with bell and song

and glee,

And I, upon my postal-horn, blew many a melody.

I blew farewell to Minka mine, and bade the strain retire Where she sat winding flaxen thread beside the kitchen fire.

We rode, and rode, by hollow pass, by glen and mountainside,

And with each bell soft accents fell from lips of bonny bride.

The night was drear, the night was chill, the night was lone and bright ;

Before us streamed the polar rays in green and golden light.

The gypsy thieves were in their dens; the owl moaned in the trees;

The windmill circled merrily, obedient to the breeze.

Shrill piped the blast in birchen boughs, and mocked the snowy shroud ;

Thrice ran a hare across our track; thrice croaked a raven loud.

The horses pawed the frigid sands, and drove them with the wind:

We left the village gallows-tree full thirty wersts behind.

We rode, and rode, by forest shade, by brake and river

side;

And as we rode I heard the kiss of groom and bonny bride.

I heard again, -a boding strain ; I heard it, all too well; A neigh, a shout, a groan, a howl, then heavy curses

fell.

Our horses pricked their wary ears, and bounded with

affright;

From forest kennels picket wolves were baying in the night.

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Haiduk, haiduk,—the lash,—the steeds, -the wolves!" the lady cried;

The wily baron clutched his blade, and murmured to the

bride :

"This all is but a moonlight hunt; the starveling hounds shall bleed,

And you shall be the tourney's queen, to crown the gallant deed!"

The moon it crept behind a cloud, as covered by a storm ; And the gray cloud became a wolf, a monster wolf in form.

Gramercy, Mother of our Lord,-gramercy in our

needs!"

Hold well together hand and thong, hold well, ye sturdy steeds!

Like unto Tartar cavalry the wolf battalion sped ; Ungunned, unspurred, but well to horse, and sharpened well to head.

The pines stood by, the stars looked on, and listless fell

the snow;

The breeze made merry with the trees, nor heeded wolf

nor woe.

Now cracked the carbines,-bleeding beasts were rolling

here and there;

'Twas flash and shot and howl,—and yet the wolves were everywhere.