cal literature. Poland is in a most unfortunate position with reference to this war, as her territory is the natural theater of hostile activities. Before the war is over, and whatever its result, her wealth will be annihilated, her population decimated, her soil drenched in blood, and her sons incorporated in three hostile armies, killing off one another. Shall she not be compensated for this unexampled and innocent loss? Can she rely on the magnanimity or sense of justice of any of the Powers engaged in the war? History supplies a somber reply. She has counted vainly on justice and help and sympathy too many times to entertain any foolish hopes at present. She has to count on herself if she is to live. A people of over twenty millions, with a history ten centuries old, with a high and distinct culture, cannot afford to die simply because three militaristic and landgrabbing neighbors have so decreed. She has to meet them on, their own terms, and she has been constantly asserting herself despite all oppression. Some of her political writers see a winning chance in a conflict like the present one. There is no doubt that the sympathies and help of the people of Poland are going to be a factor of great importance in the present struggle of supremacy between the Russian and the Germanic world. A considerable number of writers advise a decided pro-Austrian direction, a complete affiliation with the Dual Monarchy and a lifeand-death struggle against Russia. For the defeat of Russia may mean, if not an entire independence, then at least à concentration of the greater part of the Polish provinces under one sovereign power. The splitting of the nation into three parts under three different rules was the greatest calamity that could have befallen Poland. It estranged the people from one another and made concerted action almost impossible. Although a victory of the Germanic forces over Russia would be a distinct gain to Poland, yet an overwhelming Prussian victory would be unfortunate, as the bulk of Poland might fall to Prussia, which in her spirit and manner is as offensive as Russia to a people of a refined spiritual culture and of republican inheritance. Moreover, the Poles have another common bond with Austria in their religion.

From the point of view of the Poles the ideal outcome of this present gigantic mix-up would be an independent Poland, which would act as a buffer between the ever-quarreling neighbors and would supply the balancewheel in the struggle for supremacy between the Russian and Germanic world. If this be unattainable at present, the next best solution of the Polish question would be a unification of the entire Polish nation into an autonomous unit under the sovereignty of AustriaHungary. Outside of the Pole's most vital and intense interest in his national existence, there is not anything which touches him more deeply than art and culture. He consequently would like to see the great Northern Bear defeated and pushed back to the wild forests of Russia, where he properly belongs; but it would make his heart bleed to see France or England beaten by Germany. hopes that France will recover her lost provinces and expand her benevolent and radiating cultural influence over Europe. A defeat of France is a defeat of civilization, and spells complete supremacy of sword and gross and brutal materialism over refinement and culture. Similarly, a victory of Germany over England is too horrid to think of. It would mean a destruction of political liberty, freedom of thought, initiative, and action, and the dominance of the insolent Prussian over the world. Even the Germans themselves, outside of Prussia, dread it as the greatest calamity. It would mean, incidentally, the deathknell to Holland, Denmark, Belgium, and Switzerland, and a destruction of their beautiful civilizations and free institutions.

He

It

The present war bears within it all these possibilities. It is a bitter disappointment to all those who had faith in reason and culture to see the destinies of the world's greatest nations and their civilizations depend on the blind forces of passion and destruction. will be a still greater disappointment to Poland if, after the new political units emerge from the sea of dissolution and anarchy, she, having borne the brunt of a devastating three-cornered war, with all her population actively and passively engaged in it, should not gain a breath of freedom so passionately fought for during the last one hundred years.

VOICE OF FAUSTUS:

Is this the face that launched a thousand ships

And burned the topless towers of Ilion?
Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!

THE MOUNTAIN SPIRIT :

Oh, voice of summer noon, crying among Roses for one brighter than rose may be! Voice, voice, whence didst thou steal such love?

My flow'rs cry so when heavily the air Hums in midsummer noons, and odor calls To odor, light to shadow, gold to green, Azure to scarlet, and the sun to all!

(He breaks from his trance and leaps on a boulder, peering to right and

left.)

Voice, voice! Where art thou? Brother voice, where art thou?

(He comes forward slowly. From another direction another voice is heard.)

VOICE OF OTHELLO:

It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,-
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars !-
It is the cause.— Yet I'll not shed her blood;
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.

Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then-put out the light:
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore
Should I repent me; but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
· I know not where is that Promethean heat
That can thy light relume. When I have
plucked thy rose,

I cannot give it vital growth again,

It needs must wither: I'll smell it on the tree. Oh, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword! One more, one

more.

Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,

And love thee after.

THE MOUNTAIN SPIRIT :

Oh, voice of night, when moon and stars are dark!

I have cried thus among the tumbled crags And treeless peaks. I did not know that man

Could steal the pain of my autumnal nights And breathe it forth in music. Voice, where art thou?

VOICE OF MACBETH: Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more!"

"Macbeth does murder sleep "—the_innocent sleep:

Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second

course,

Chief nourisher in life's feast;—

VOICE OF LADY MACBETH:
What do you mean?

VOICE OF MACBETH:

Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to all the house:

"Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor

Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!"

THE MOUNTAIN SPIRIT:
Voice of my winter angers and despairs !
I did not know that man could speak in
tempest

And cry in wild and unavailing storm.
Ye voices, voices ! Kindred of my being!

I claim this plot of earth as mine alone
No more. Come, we will share it, you and I!
I and my pines shall watch about you here.
(Pause. Then beseechingly.)
Voices, return! Voices of love and pain!
Voices, return!
Voices, return!

Music!

Anger, despair, remorse! Voices of mirth and peace! (Dance music is faintly heard, growing louder.)

And footsteps! Hark, my pines, they come !

My poplar leaves with sunlight on the gray, Dancing they come! Hail, children of my mirth!

(He darts toward the rear. As he cries, he darts deeper into the woods, crying the last words after he has disappeared in the thicket.)

The dancing feet! Hail, hail! They come ! Hail, hail!