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HEART! my heart! what means this feeling?

WHEN Minerva, to give pleasureTo Prometheus, her well-loved one,Brought a brimming bowl of nectarFrom the glorious realms of heavenAs a blessing for his creatures,And to pour into their bosomsImpulses 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 itOn the verdant plain beneath her.Then the busy bees flew thitherStraightway, eagerly to drink them,And the butterfly came quicklyThat he, too, might find a drop there;Even the misshapen spiderThither crawl'd and suck'd with vigour.