Fludribus looked consequential: "Though but trifling is the order, Still I coincide with Caesar, And am rather here considered First than at great Rome the second. And besides, there all is finished. Even in the Pope's own palace All those thoughts high and aesthetic, Which I in my bosom cherished, Has a man by name of Raphael Painted on the walls already. But I shall great things achieve, And shall do like Buffamalco, Who with rich red wine imparted Glowing warmth to the cold colours. Therefore, furnish me with red wine First; of course, good eating with it. Rich reward I do not care for, Since the thought is my enjoyment, That I shall be made immortal Through the efforts of my genius. Thus I'll paint for almost nothing, Just the square foot seven shillings." Since two months he had been painting On the walls beneath the arched roof; Imitated Buffamalco; But he drank himself the red wine. And his compositions truly Were artistic, highly proper, And of elegant conception. To begin with: there paraded Perseus and Andromeda; At their feet lay deadly wounded The great Hydra, with a handsome Face, much like a human being, Who in dying still coquetted With the lovely rock-bound captive. Then the Judgment came of Paris; And in order that the dazzling Beauty of those heavenly ladies Should not quite eclipse the hero, They looked off toward the landscape, With their backs to the spectator. Similar were the other pictures: As Diana and Actaeon, Orpheus and Eurydice. For the man of genius chooses From mythology his subjects; And he thinks, in nudeness only, Is revealed the highest beauty. Now the work was all accomplished, And with feeling, said the master: "Happy can I go to Hades, As my works are my memorial. In the history of this Rhine-land A new epoch of the fine arts Will begin with Fludribus." 'Twas the wish of Margaretta To inaugurate with music This so beautified pavilion. Ha! how Werner's heart was beating, When he heard the maid's desire. He directly went to Basel To select the new productions Of the musical composers; And he brought the scores back with him Of the great Venetian master, Claudio di Monteverde, Whose sweet pastoral composition Carried off the prize in music. Then there was a noisy bustle 'Mongst the artists of the city; And a most increasing practice In the frequent long rehearsals, All unnoticed by the Baron.