The wonderful air is over me,
And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;
It walks on the water and whirls the mills,
And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.
You friendly earth; how far do you go
With the wheat fields that nod and the rivers that flow,
With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles,
And people upon you for thousands of miles?
Ah, you are so great, and I am so small,
I tremble to think of you, world, at all;
And yet, when I said my prayer to-day,
A whisper within me seemed to say:
“You are more than the earth, though you’re such a dot;
You can love and think, and the world cannot.”
ARION.
Arion was a famous musician who lived at the court of Periander, King of Corinth. He wished to compete for the prize in the musical contest, celebrated in Sicily in honor of Apollo. But Periander, who loved the musician, dreaded to have him go so far away. Arion entreated him, saying,—“I wish to make the people better and happier by the gift which the gods have given me. It is my duty to Apollo to sing in his honor.”
So Arion went to Sicily, and his music was so excellent and so sweet that he won the great prize. The gold and the laurel wreath were put on board the ship, and he embarked for home. Wind and wave were favorable, the sky was clear. He gave thanks to Apollo for his good fortune, and promised to offer sacrifices in the temple.
The wicked sailors, however, knew that Arion had a large amount of gold and jewels in his chests. They gathered around him and told him that he must die.
“Do you want my gold?” he asked. “That you may have and welcome, but spare my life.”