Sun-s appeared to shine
In her dazzling charms.

Who hath torn her from mine arms?

Could no magic band
Make her in her flight delay?

Say, where now her land? 
Where, alas, the way?

1775.*
-----
When the fox dies, his skin counts.*

(* The name of a game, known in English as “Jack’s alight.”)

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

ln his neighbour’s hand.

Dorilis then gave it me,

With a scoffing jest;
Sudden into flame it broke,

By my fingers press’d.

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.

1770.
-----
The Heathrose.

Once a boy a Rosebud spied,

Heathrose fair and tender,
All array’d in youthful pride,—­
Quickly to the spot he hied,

Ravished by her splendour. 
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

Said the boy, “I’ll now pick thee,

Heathrose fair and tender!”
Said the rosebud, “I’ll prick thee,
So that thou’lt remember me,

Ne’er will I surrender!”
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

Now the cruel boy must pick

Heathrose fair and tender;
Rosebud did her best to prick,—­
Vain ’twas ’gainst her fate to kick—­

She must needs surrender. 
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

1779.*
-----
Blindman’s Buff.

Oh, my Theresa dear! 
Thine eyes, I greatly fear,

Can through the bandage see! 
Although thine eyes are bound,
By thee I’m quickly found,

And wherefore shouldst thou catch but me?

Ere long thou held’st me fast,
With arms around me cast,

Upon thy breast I fell;
Scarce was thy bandage gone,
When all my joy was flown,

Thou coldly didst the blind repel.

He groped on ev’ry side,
His limbs he sorely tried,

While scoffs arose all round;
If thou no love wilt give,
In sadness I shall live,

As if mine eyes remain’d still bound.

1770.
-----
Christel.

My senses ofttimes are oppress’d,

Oft stagnant is my blood;
But when by Christel’s sight I’m blest,