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

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POEMS OF GOETHE
309

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

On 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?"