POETRY.

THE ROMAN ROAD IN- MID-ALBANIA.

t • • [To MEMAET BEY.] • A mien sinites through the mountains like the thrusting of a It glitters through green forests and shines above the ford, And where the-road is ruined, and the centuries have scored, It's bound with broken pieces from the tombstone of a Lord 'The road wan made, by Romans; strong stone by stone they

. laid; 'The fountains gave them music and beech trees gave them shade.

They laughed among the mountains at,the noise the thunder made,

And built the way eternal, for eternal Roman trade.

Great Philip, King of Macedon, passed nigh this warrior's way, With forty men before him and five thousand men behind; Hie conquests are all scattered like mists at divrning day— The Romans wrote their journey in the stones with which they signed. .

They built the road for barter, but He, the Battle God, He took it for His highway, and there His servants trod; The tall men of the mountains, who march as they were shod, Light-footed as the wild deer that get their grace from GOD.

They sing in that green forest of two turnings of the way : First where the men dismounted who rode with Skander Bey, And, with drawn swords, upon the pass knelt down to GOD to

Pray And of the second turning and the prayer that won the fray.

"They built the road in ancient days," Albanian shepherds sing, "To bear the weight of autumn snows and torrents of the spring, For corn and gold and ambergris that southern merchants bring ;

But we shall menitthe Roman road to honour our own King.

Dear lives have gone-to pave it, there's blood on every stone; Since first the Romanis made it, it's fed on flesh and bone, And women's tears have washed it and made it all our own, The King's Way in Albania, the way that stands alone. Let be, the blood that has been spilt, and all the echoes molten By guns that thundered in the bill and words by prophets spoken.

The King comes to Albania, and our King shall have this token :

We'll mend the Roman read for Lim which Turk and Slav have broken.

The eagles poised above the way still in still evening air, The very wolves that haunt our hills have not been longer there

Than we, wbo fought centurions; we raise our hands and swear A loyalty as white to him as snows our mountains wear. •

On narrow paths like shadows, on tired steeds we've spurred, Above the flood that roars so loud no gun-shot can be heard. We know the tumult's meaning, at dusk our blood is stirred ; By sword and thunderstorm and flood Albanians keep their word.

As tides are to the billows, so love is to a mood ; - Our love is more than hatred, we're eagles of one brood. We'll take the oath together of abiding brotherhood, And while we are Albanians, by Goo we'll make it good."