The Damsel of the Sanct Grael by Dante RossettiThou art now a-weary? There above are sheep and sun-set stripes: is it not sweet to sleep- the shepherd pipes?
Thou art so very weary? I carry thee thither; let just thine arm sink! And art thou thirsty- I should have something; but thy mouth would not like it to drink!-Oh, that cursed, nimble, supple serpent and lurking-witch! Where art thou gone? But in my face do I feel through thy hand, two spots and red blotches itch!
I am verily weary of it, ever thy sheepish shepherd to be. Thou witch, if I have hitherto sung unto thee, now shalt thou- cry unto me!
To the rhythm of my whip shalt thou dance and cry! I forget not my whip?- Not I!"
Then did Life answer me thus, and kept thereby her fine ears closed:
"O Zarathustra! Crack not so terribly with thy whip! Thou knowest surely that noise killeth thought,- and just now there came to me such delicate thoughts.
We are both of us genuine ne'er-do-wells and ne'er-do-ills. Beyond good and evil found we our island and our green meadow- we two alone! Therefore must we be friendly to each other!
And even should we not love each other from the bottom of our hearts,- must we then have a grudge against each other if we do not love each other perfectly?
And that I am friendly to thee, and often too friendly, that knowest thou: and the reason is that I am envious of thy Wisdom. Ah, this mad old fool, Wisdom!
If thy Wisdom should one day run away from thee, ah! then would also my love run away from thee quickly."
--Nietzsche, "Zarathustra:
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