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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
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