miinitable. Luciaii saj's: '*I see na r&ascn tiO give up uiy 

 right to iuveutiA^e freedom ; and as I have no truth to t^eil, 

 I fall back on falsehood, and now make the only true state- 

 ment you may look for: that I am a liar. This may aa.ve 

 m^ from imputations. 1 narrate what I ha.vo neither seen 

 nor experienced, nor have ever bc<in told; A\'hat neither 

 exists nor could exist; and therefore humbly ask my 

 roader'& incredulity." 



Oiu> of Lucian's ta.boood stories in ite Latin vereion by 

 Apuleius contains an episode — Cupid and Psyohcr— that is 

 one of the prettiest stories known. La Fontaine, and 

 nearly all the gre-at fabulists, give it in variant versiv>us. 

 It is cause for regret that so charming a story should ever 

 have had questionable suiToundings. But as the old tale 

 runs, though a jewel be set in lead, the fault is in the setter, 

 not in the gem, which shines on without loss of luistre. 

 Poets, painters, sculptor's and pliilosophcrs have striven to 

 immortalize this beautiful story. Many of these effoits 

 have won world-wide admiration ; and nov/here haia it come 

 nearer to it« own than in the version by William Morris. 



Neox'ly forty yeai"s since Morris introduced his Earthly 

 Paradise, containing twenty-four of the world's great stories 

 in verse, two for each month of the year, in these Ime.s : 



"Of Heaven or Hell 1 have no power t-o bing; 



I cannot case the burden of your fears, 

 Or make quick-coming death a little thing, 



Or bring again the pleasures of past years ; 



Nor for my words shall ye forget yorn tears, 

 Or hope again for aught that I can say, 

 Tlie idle singer of oji enmpty day." 



But INIorris — poet, artist and story-teller — was no idler. 

 He has bceu called the Chaucer of the nineteenth century. 

 Like his prototype, Chaucer, he told well the stories of 

 many lands; and he told none bett-er than those not so far 

 afield, tliat -svere and arc the delight of our Norse kinsfolk. 



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