ACTAEON. Thy wife is destined to deceive thee! She'll seek another's arms and leave thee, And horns upon thy head will shortly sprout! How dreadful that when bathing thou shouldst see me     (No ether-bath can wash the stigma out), And then, in perfect innocence, shouldst flee me! 

        MAN'S DIGNITY. I am a man!—Let every one Who is a man, too, spring With joy beneath God's shining sun, And leap on high, and sing! To God's own image fair on earth Its stamp I've power to show; Down to the front, where heaven has birth With boldness I dare go.     'Tis well that I both dare and can!     When I a maiden see, A voice exclaims: thou art a man! I kiss her tenderly. And redder then the maiden grows, Her bodice seems too tight—    That I'm a man the maiden knows, Her bodice therefore's tight. Will she, perchance, for pity cry, If unawares she's caught? She finds that I'm a man—then, why By her is pity sought? I am a man; and if alone She sees me drawing near, I make the emperor's daughter run, Though ragged I appear. This golden watchword wins the smile Of many a princess fair; They call—ye'd best look out the while, Ye gold-laced fellows there! That I'm a man is fully shown Whene'er my lyre I sweep; It thunders out a glorious tone—     It otherwise would creep. The spirit that my veins now hold, My manhood calls its brother! And both command, like lions bold, And fondly greet each other. From out this same creative flood From which we men have birth, Both godlike strength and genius bud, And everything of worth. My talisman all tyrants hates, And strikes them to the ground; Or guides us gladly through life's gates To where the dead are found. E'en Pompey, at Pharsalia's fight, My talisman o'erthrew; On German sand it hurled with might Rome's sensual children, too. Didst see the Roman, proud and stern, Sitting on Afric's shore? His eyes like Hecla seem to burn, And fiery flames outpour. Then comes a frank and merry knave, And spreads it through the land:    "Tell them that thou on Carthage's grave Hast seen great Marius stand!"     Thus speaks the son of Rome with pride, Still mighty in his fall; He is a man, and naught beside,—     Before him tremble all. His grandsons afterwards began Their portions to o'erthrow, And thought it well that every man Should learn with grace to crow. For shame, for shame,—once more for shame! The wretched ones?—they've even Squandered the tokens of their fame, The choicest gifts of heaven. God's counterfeit has 

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