Thou art the fox, O man, that, maugre all
His cunning, did into the water fall.
This fox was travelling once o'er hill and dell,
And reached at length the margin of a well;
His head he stooped into the well, when, lo!
Another fox did in the water show.
He winks, he nods -- the other fox replies:
'What, ho!we must be better friends,' he cries;
And more acquaintance covetous to win,
Without more thought jumped Reynard headlong in.
He reached the bottom at a single bound,
But there no fox beside himself he found:
Upward again he now would gladly spring,
But to ascend was no such easy thing.
He splashes, struggles, and in sad voice cries,
'Fool that I was! I deemed myself more wise.
Ah wretch! will no one come unto my aid?'--
But prayer and effort both were vainly made:
Soon did the water drag him down to death;
With a loud cry he sank the waves beneath.

Thou art the fox of which the fable tells--
This world of sense the Devil's well of wells.
Thou saw'st reflected thine own image there,
And didst plunge headlong in without a care.
Oh happy! if thou struggle back to-day,
Ere the strong whirlpool drags thee down for aye.