Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/220

190 The fiery-tongued serpent, Hard by the sedgy bank, Stretches his pampered body, Caressed by the sun's bright beams.

Tempt no gentle night-rambles Under the moon's cold twilight! Loathsome toads hold their meetings Yonder at every crossway.

Injuring not, Fear will they cause thee. Oh, worthy man, Fly from this land!

Be void of feeling! A heart that soon is stirred, Is a possession sad Upon this changing earth.

Behrisch, let spring's sweet smile Never gladden thy brow! Then winter's gloomy tempests Never will shadow it o'er.

Lean thyself ne'er on a maiden's Sorrow-engendering breast. Ne'er on the arm, Misery-fraught, of a friend.

Already Envy From out his rocky ambush Upon thee turns The force of his lynx-like eyes,