Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/343

Rh As a blessing for his creatures, And to pour into their bosoms Impulses for arts ennobling, She with rapid footstep hastened, Fearing Jupiter might see her, And the golden goblet trembled, And there fell a few drops from it On the verdant plain beneath her. Then the busy bees flew thither Straightway, eagerly to drink them, And the butterfly came quickly That he, too, might find a drop there; Even the misshapen spider Thither crawled and sucked with vigour.

To a happy end they tasted, They, and other gentle insects! For with mortals now divide they Art—that noblest gift of all.

 LOVE AS A LANDSCAPE PAINTER

a rocky peak once sat I early, Gazing on the mist with eyes unmoving; Stretched out like a pall of grayish texture. All things round, and all above it covered.

Suddenly a boy appeared beside me, Saying "Friend, what meanest thou by gazing On the vacant pall with such composure? Hast thou lost for evermore all pleasure Both in painting cunningly, and forming?" On the child I gazed, and thought in secret: "Would the boy pretend to be a master?" 