Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/310

276 Patient be a short time to it, Unproduced, and known to none; If your father cannot do it, By your mother 'twill be done.

 THE FOOL'S EPILOGUE.

good works I've done and ended, Ye take the praise—I'm not offended; For in the world, I've always thought Each thing its true position hath sought. When praised for foolish deeds am I, I set off laughing heartily; When blamed for doing something good, I take it in an easy mood. If some one stronger gives me hard blows, That it's a jest, I feign to suppose; But if 'tis one that's but my own like, I know the way such folks to strike. When Fortune smiles, I merry grow, And sing in dulci jubilo; When sinks her wheel, and tumbles me o'er, I think 'tis sure to rise once more.

In the sunshine of summer I ne'er lament, Because the winter it cannot prevent; And when the white snowflakes fall around, I don my skates, and am off with a bound. Though I dissemble as I will, The sun for me will ne'er stand still; 