WHEN Minerva, to give pleasure To Prometheus, her well-loved one, Brought a brimming bowl of nectar From the glorious realms of heaven As a blessing for his creatures, And to pour into their bosoms Impulses for arts ennobling, She with rapid footstep hasten'd, 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 crawl'd and suck'd 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. 1789.* ----- THE WANDERER. [Published in the Gottingen Musen Almanach, having been written "to express his feelings and caprices" after his separation from Frederica.] WANDERER. YOUNG woman, may God bless thee, Thee, and the sucking infant Upon thy breast! Let me, 'gainst this rocky wall, Neath the elm-tree's shadow, Lay aside my burden, Near thee take my rest. WOMAN. What vocation leads thee, While the day is burning, Up this dusty path? Bring'st thou goods from out the town Round the country? Smil'st thou, stranger, At my question? WANDERER. From the town no goods I bring. Cool is now the evening; Show to me the fountain 'Whence thou drinkest, Woman young and kind! WOMAN. Up the rocky pathway mount; Go thou first! Across the thicket Leads the pathway tow'rd the cottage That I live in, To the fountain Whence I drink. WANDERER. Signs of man's arranging hand See I 'mid the trees! Not by thee these stones were join'd, Nature, who so freely scatterest! WOMAN. Up, still up! WANDERER. Lo, a mossy architrave is here! I discern thee, fashioning spirit! On the stone thou hast impress'd thy seal. WOMAN. Onward, stranger! WANDERER. Over an inscription am I treading! 'Tis effaced! Ye are seen no longer, Words so deeply graven, Who your master's true devotion Should have shown to thousand grandsons! WOMAN. At these stones, why Start'st thou, stranger? Many stones are lying yonder Round my cottage. WANDERER. Yonder? WOMAN. Through the thicket, Turning to the left, Here! WANDERER. Ye Muses and ye Graces! WOMAN. This, then, is my cottage. WANDERER. 'Tis a ruin'd temple! * WOMAN. Just below it, see, Springs the fountain Whence I drink. WANDERER. Thou dost hover O'er thy grave, all glowing, Genius! while upon thee Hath thy master-piece Fallen crumbling, Thou Immortal One! WOMAN. Stay, a cup I'll fetch thee Whence to drink. WANDERER.