THE SCULPTOR AND

RULE OF JUPITER

 

A block of marble was so beautiful That a Sculptor made the emplette of it. What will it make some, my chisel says? Will he be God, table or basin? He will be God: even I want That it has in its hand a thunder. Tremble human. Make wishes; Here is the Master of the ground. The Craftsman expressed so well Character of the Idol That it was found that it did not miss anything In Jupiter that word. Even it is said that the Workman The image had hardly completed, That one saw it quivering the first, And to fear its own work. With the weakness of the Sculptor The Poet formerly hardly had about it, Gods of which he was the inventor Fearing hatred and anger. He was child in this: The children do not have the occupied heart That continual concern That their headstock is not annoyed. The heart follows the spirit easily: From this source is gone down The pagan error, which was seen At so much of people widespread. They embraced violently Interests of their dream. Pygmalion became lover Of Venus of which he was father. Each one turns in realities, As far as it can, its own dreams: The man is of ice to the truths; He is of fire for the lies.