To the first stranger made he now A very low and graceful bow， But quite forgot to bear in mind That people also stood behind；His left-hand neighbor's paunch he struck A grievous blow， by great ill luck；Pardon for this he first entreated， And then in haste his bow repeated.
His right hand neighbor next he hit， And begg'd him， too， to pardon it；But on his granting his petition， Another was in like condition；These compliments he paid to all， Behind， before， across the hall；At length one who could stand no more， Show'd him impatiently the door.
May many， pond'ring on their crimes， A moral draw from this betimes！
II.
As he proceeded on his way He thought， "I was too weak to-day；To bow I'll ne'er again be seen；
For goats will swallow what is green."
Across the fields he now must speed， Not over stumps and stones， indeed， But over meads and cornfields sweet， Trampling down all with clumsy feet.
A farmer met him by-and-by， And didn't ask him： how？ or why？
But with his fist saluted him.
"I feel new life in every limb！"
Our traveller cried in ecstasy.
"Who art thou who thus gladden'st me？
May Heaven such blessings ever send！
Ne'er may I want a jovial friend！"
1808.
THE LEGEND OF THE HORSESHOE.
WHAT time our Lord still walk'd the earth， Unknown， despised， of humble birth， And on Him many a youth attended (His words they seldom comprehended)， It ever seem'd to Him most meet To hold His court in open street， As under heaven's broad canopy One speaks with greater liberty.
The teachings of His blessed word From out His holy mouth were heard；Each market to a fane turn'd He With parable and simile.
One day， as tow'rd a town He roved， In peace of mind with those He loved， Upon the path a something gleam'd；A broken horseshoe 'twas， it seem'd.
So to St.Peter thus He spake：
"That piece of iron prythee take！"
St.Peter's thoughts had gone astray，--He had been musing on his way Respecting the world's government， A dream that always gives content， For in the head 'tis check'd by nought；This ever was his dearest thought， For him this prize was far too mean Had it a crown and sceptre been！
But， surely， 'twasn't worth the trouble For half a horseshoe to bend double！
And so he turn'd away his head， As if he heard not what was said，The Lord， forbearing tow'rd all men， Himself pick'd up the horseshoe then (He ne'er again like this stoop'd down).
And when at length they reach'd the town， Before a smithy He remain'd， And there a penny for 't obtain'd.
As they the market-place went by， Some beauteous cherries caught His eye：
Accordingly He bought as many As could be purchased for a penny， And then， as oft His wont had been， Placed them within His sleeve unseen.
They went out by another gate， O'er plains and fields proceeding straight， No house or tree was near the spot， The sun was bright， the day was hot；In short， the weather being such， A draught of water was worth much.
The Lord walk'd on before them all， And let， unseen， a cherry fall.
St.Peter rush'd to seize it hold， As though an apple 'twere of gold；His palate much approv'd the berry；
The Lord ere long another cherry Once more let fall upon the plain；St.Peter forthwith stoop'd again.
The Lord kept making him thus bend To pick up cherries without end.
For a long time the thing went on；
The Lord then said， in cheerful tone：
"Had'st thou but moved when thou wert bid， Thou of this trouble had'st been rid；The man who small things scorns， will next， By things still smaller be perplex'd."1797.
A SYMBOL.
(This fine poem is given by Goethe amongst a small collection of what he calls Loge (Lodge)， meaning thereby Masonic pieces.)THE mason's tradeObserve them well，Resembles life， And watch them revealingWith all its strife，--How solemn feeling Is like the stir madeAnd wonderment swellBy man on earth's face.The hearts of the brave.
Though weal and woeThe voice of the blest，The future may hide， And of spirits on highUnterrifiedSeems loudly to cry：
We onward go "To do what is best，In ne'er changing race. Unceasing endeavour！
A veil of dread"In silence eterneHangs heavier still.Here chaplets are twin'd，Deep slumbers fillThat each noble mind The stars over-head， Its guerdon may earn.--And the foot-trodden grave. Then hope ye for ever！"1827.
ART.
Artist， fashion！ talk not long！
Be a breath thine only song！
THE DROPS OF NECTAR.
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膖hat 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.
