Page:Complete works of Nietzsche vol 10.djvu/376

364  Whence your silken gown, my maid? Ah, you'd fain be haughty, Yet perchance you've proved a jade With some satyr naughty!

Waiting long, the lovelorn wight Is filled with rage and poison: Even so on sultry night Toadstools grow in foison.

Pinching sore, in devil's mood, Love doth plague my crupper: Truly I can eat no food: Farewell, onion-supper!

Seaward sinks the moon away, The stars are wan, and flare not: Dawn approaches, gloomy, grey. Let Death come! I care not! 

 "SOULS THAT LACK DETERMINATION." Souls that lack determination Rouse my wrath to white-hot flame! All their glory's but vexation, All their praise but self-contempt and shame!

Since I baffle their advances. Will not clutch their leading-string. They would wither me with glances Bitter-sweet, with hopeless envy sting.

Let them with fell curses shiver. Curl their lip the livelong day! Seek me as they will, forever Helplessly their eyes shall go astray! 