CHANTICLEER *33 



Athenians, which all at once made them feel so 

 unutterably weary of endless fighting with the 

 Lacedaemonians, and inspired their hearts with 

 such a passionate desire for the long untasted 

 sweets of security and repose. Is it one of my 

 morning fancies merely — for fact and fancy 

 mingle strangely at this still, mysterious hour, 

 and are scarcely distinguishable — or is it related 

 in history that this strange thing happened when 

 all the people of the violet-crowned city were 

 gathered to witness a solemn tragedy, in which 

 certain verses were spoken that had a strange 

 meaning to their war-weary souls? "Those who 

 sleep in the morning in the arms of peace do not 

 start from them at the sound of the trumpet, and 

 nothing interrupts their slumbers but the peaceful 

 crowing of the cock." And at these words the 

 whole concourse was electrified, and rose up like 

 one man, and from thousands of lips went forth a 

 great cry of "Peace ! Peace ! Let us make peace 

 with Sparta!" 



Hark I once more that long clarion call: it is 

 the last time — the very last; for all the others 

 have sung a dozen times apiece and have gone 

 to sleep again. So would this one have done, 



