As an example of the popular class of literature we give an extract from a poem about Gregory the Illuminator, who was cast by King Tiridates into a well infested with serpents and other loathsome creatures:— “‘Take the saint and put him into the prison where dragon-serpents are assembled.’ They took the saint and put him in the prison where the dragon-serpents were assembled. And the poisonous serpents inclined their tongues in worship. And said: ‘Pity us, O Saint Gregory, and hearken to the complaint of us, dragon-serpents. It is many thousands of years since we drank water from the springs; We have not drunk water from the springs, but only the blood of condemned men. We have eaten no green herbs, but only the flesh of the condemned.’” The poet goes on to tell how St. Gregory when he came out of the well set free the dragon-serpents in answer to their prayer. This poem is very old, being written in the fifth or sixth century at the latest. The metre is that of the pagan poets. We cite here another poem of this class—an allegorical description of Christ on the Cross:— “A little Bird I saw—a peerless One— Upon the four-armed Sign, that peer hath none. O Peerless One, who is like Thee, Thou Peerless One? Thou alone. “Its silvery wings were of a matchless white More brilliant than the sun’s clear, matchless light. O Matchless One, who is like Thee, Thou Matchless One? Thou alone. “Piteous Its voice—a great, transcendent sigh; Mighty, as Gabriel’s transcendent cry. Transcendent One, who is like Thee, Transcendent One? Thou alone. “Within Its eyes, gem-like, unrivalled tears; Surpassing those the morn unrivalled wears; Unrivalled One, who is like Thee, Unrivalled One? Thou alone.” A characteristic species of Armenian poetry is the lullaby. There are hundreds of old Armenian cradle-songs which are still sung by mothers to their infants, and they are exquisitely dainty and sweet. Here are some stanzas from one of these songs:— “Thou art lovely, feet and all, Whom wouldst have to be thy playmate? Hush, the silver moon I’ll call— The bright star to be thy playmate. “Crimson rose and petals wide, Thou hast bloomed, our garden’s pride. As many suns shine on thy years As the leaves our garden bears. “Oror, hush, the deer are here, The deer have come from the hills so high, Have brought sweet sleep to my baby dear, And filled it in his deep, deep eye.” There are series of Armenian folksongs for every event in life—birth, marriage, death, and so on.