Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/277

Rh How could I think of battles more With thee within my arms!

But thou shalt lend thy perfect form To all I fashion best; I'll paint thee first, Madonna-wise, The infant on thy breast.

I'll paint thee as a startled nymph, Myself a following faun; And still pursue thy flying feet Across the woodland lawn.

With helm on head, like Mars, I'll lie By thee, the Queen of Love, And draw a net around us twain, And smile on heaven above:

And every god that comes shall pour His blessings on thy head, And envious eyes be far away From that dear marriage-bed!

 THE GOBLET.

my hands I held a brimming goblet, Sculptured quaintly by the carver's cunning, Quaffed with eager lips the strong nepenthe, So at once to drown all care and anguish.

Then came Amor in and found me sitting, And he smiled a smile of serious sweetness As in pity of my foolish purpose.

"Friend, I know a vessel nobler, fairer, Worthy all your soul in it to bury; 