Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/234

204 With the pair of doves Held in his gentle arm,— With the beauteous garland of roses,— Caressing him, so blest in his flowers, Anacreon, Storm-breathing godhead! Not in the poplar grove, Near the Sybaris' strand, Not in the mountain's Sun-illumined brow Didst thou seize him. The flower-singing, Honey-breathing, Sweetly nodding Theocritus.

When the wheels were rattling. Wheel on wheel toward the goal, High arose The sound of the lash Of youth with victory glowing, In the dust rolling, As from the mountain fall Showers of stone in the vale— Then thy soul was brightly glowing, Pindar— Glowing? Poor heart? There, on the hill,— Heavenly might! But enough glow Thither to wend, Where is my cot?