h giveth wings to asses, that which milketh the lionesses:--
praised be that good, unruly spirit, which cometh like a hurricane unto
all the present and unto all the populace,--

--Which is hostile to thistle-heads and puzzle-heads, and to all
withered leaves and weeds:--praised be this wild, good, free spirit of
the storm, which danceth upon fens and afflictions, as upon meadows!

Which hateth the consumptive populace-dogs, and all the ill-constituted,
sullen brood:--praised be this spirit of all free spirits, the laughing
storm, which bloweth dust into the eyes of all the melanopic and
melancholic!

Ye higher men, the worst thing in you is that ye have none of you
learned to dance as ye ought to dance--to dance beyond yourselves! What
doth it matter that ye have failed!

How many things are still possible! So LEARN to laugh beyond yourselves!
Lift up your hearts, ye good dancers, high! higher! And do not forget
the good laughter!

This crown of the laughter, this rose-garland crown: to you my brethren
do I cast this crown! Laughing have I consecrated; ye higher men, LEARN,
I pray you--to laugh!

LXXIV. THE SONG OF MELANCHOLY.

1.

When Zarathustra spake these sayings, he stood nigh to the entrance of
his cave; with the last words, however, he slipped away from his guests,
and fled for a little while into the open air.

"O pure odours around me," cried he, "O blessed stillness around me! But
where are mine animals? Hither, hither, mine eagle and my serpent!

Tell me, mine animals: these higher men, all of them--do they perhaps
not SMELL well? O pure odours around me! Now only do I know and feel how
I love you, mine animals."

--And Zarathustra said once more: "I love you, mine animals!" The eagle,
however, and the serpent pressed close to him when he spake these
words, and looked up to him. In this attitude were they all three silent
together, and sniffed and sipped the good air with one another. For the
air here outside was better than with the higher men.

2.

Hardly, however, had Zarathustra left the cave when the old magician got
up, looked cunningly about him, and said: "He is gone!

And already, ye higher men--let me tickle you with this complimentary
and flattering name, as he himself doeth--already doth mine evil spirit
of deceit and magic attack me, my melancholy devil,

--Which is an adversary to this Zarathustra from the very heart: forgive
it for this! Now doth it wish to conjure be