POEMS OF GOETHE
7
WHEN THE FOX DIES HIS SKIN COUNTS.[1]
We young people in the shade
Sat one sultry day;
Cupid came, and "Dies the Fox'
With us sought to play.
Each one of my friends then sat
By his mistress dear;
Cupid, blowing out the torch,
Said: "The taper's here!"
Then we quickly sent around
The expiring brand;
Each one put it hastily
In his neighbour's hand.
Dorilis then gave it me,
With a scoffing jest;
Sudden into flame it broke,
By my fingers pressed.
And it singed my eyes and face,
Set my breast on fire;
Then above my head the blaze
Mounted ever higher.
Vain I sought to put it out;
Ever burned the flame;
'Stead of dying, soon the Fox
Livelier still became.
- ↑ The name of a game known in English as "Jack's Alight."
