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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11123 ***
+
+[Illustration: On the Way Toward the Grail. By Hans Thoma]
+
+
+
+The
+German Classics
+of
+The Nineteenth and
+Twentieth Centuries
+
+
+
+Masterpieces of German Literature
+Translated into English
+
+
+
+EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
+Kuno Francke, Ph.D., LL.D., Litt.D.
+
+
+
+In Twenty Volumes Illustrated
+
+
+ALBANY, N.Y.
+J.B. LYON COMPANY
+PUBLISHERS
+
+1913
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS OF VOLUME I
+
+Editor's Preface
+
+Publishers Foreword
+
+General Introduction.
+  By Richard M. Meyer
+
+The Life of Goethe.
+  By Calvin Thomas
+
+POEMS
+
+Greeting and Departure.
+  Translated by Charles Wharton Stork
+
+The Heathrose.
+  Adapted from the translation by E.A. Bowring
+
+Mahomet's Song.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Prometheus.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Wanderer's Night-Song.
+  Adapted from the translation by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Sea-Voyage.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+To the Moon.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Fisherman.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Wanderer's Night-Song.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Erl-King.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Godlike.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Mignon.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Proximity of the Beloved One.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Shepherd's Lament.
+  Translated by W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.
+
+Nature and Art
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman.
+
+Comfort in Tears.
+  Translated by W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin
+
+Epilog to Schiller's "Song of the Bell."
+  Translated by W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin
+
+Ergo Bibamus.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Walking Bell.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Found.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Hatem.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+Reunion.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+Procemion.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The One and The All.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+Lines on Seeing Schiller's Skull.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+A Legacy.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Introduction to Hermann and Dorothea.
+  By Arthur H. Palmer
+
+Harmann and Dorothea.
+  Translated by Ellen Frothingham
+
+DRAMAS
+
+Introduction to Iphigenia in Tauris.
+  By Arthur H. Palmer
+
+Iphigenia in Tauris.
+  Translated by Anna Swanwick
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Faust Legend from Marlowe to Goethe.
+  By Kuno Francke
+
+Introduction to Faust.
+  Calvin Thomas
+
+Faust (Part I).
+  Translated by Anna Swanwick
+
+Faust (Part II).
+  Translated by Anna Swanwick
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS-VOLUME I
+
+On the Way Toward the Grail. By Hans
+  Thoma _Frontispiece_
+
+Goethe. By J. Jäger
+
+Goethe. By J. Stieler
+
+Goethe's Houses in Weimar
+
+Goethe in the Campagua. By J.H.W. Tischbein
+
+Monument to Goethe in Berlin. By Fritz Schaper
+
+Monument to Goethe in Rome. By Eberlein
+
+The Death of Goethe. By Fritz Fleischer
+
+The Heathrose. By K. Kogler
+
+Prometheus. By Titian
+
+The Fisherman and the Mermaid. By Georg Papperitz
+
+Hermann's Parents in the Doorway of the Tavern.
+  By Ludwig Richter
+
+Hermann hands to Dorothea the Linen for the Emigrants.
+  By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Mother defending Hermann. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Mother and Son. By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Emigrants in the Village. By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Parson and the Apothecary watch Dorothea. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Hermann and Dorothea meet at the Fountain. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Hermann and Dorothea under the Pear tree. By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Betrothal. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Iphigenia. By Ansehn Feuerbach
+
+The Meeting of Orestes, Iphigenia, and Pylades.
+  By Angelica, Kauffmann
+
+Iphigenia. By Max Nonnenbruch
+
+Faust and Mephistopheles. By Liezen-Mayer
+
+Margaret. By Wilhelm von Kaulbach
+
+Faust and Margaret. By Carl Becker
+
+Faust and Margaret in the Garden. By Liezen-Mayer
+
+The Death of Valentine. By Franz Simm
+
+Margaret's Downfall. By Wilhelm von Kaulbach
+
+
+EDITOR'S PREFACE
+
+It is surprising how little the English-speaking world knows of German
+literature of the nineteenth century. Goethe and Schiller found their
+herald in Carlyle; Fichte's idealistic philosophy helped to mold
+Emerson's view of life; Amadeus Hoffmann influenced Poe; Uhland and
+Heine reverberate in Longfellow; Sudermann and Hauptmann appear in the
+repertory of London and New York theatres--these brief statements
+include nearly all the names which to the cultivated Englishman and
+American of to-day stand for German literature.
+
+THE GERMAN CLASSICS OF THE NINETEENTH AND TWENTIETH CENTURIES has been
+planned to correct this narrow and inadequate view. Here for the first
+time English readers will find a panorama of the whole of German
+literature from Goethe to the present day; here for the first time
+they will find the most representative writers of each period brought
+together and exhibited by their most representative works; here for
+the first time an opportunity will be offered to form a just
+conception of the truly remarkable literary achievements of Germany
+during the last hundred years.
+
+For it is a grave mistake to assume, as has been assumed only too
+often, that, after the great epoch of Classicism and Romanticism in
+the early decades of the nineteenth century, Germany produced but
+little of universal significance, or that, after Goethe and Heine,
+there were but few Germans worthy to be mentioned side by side with
+the great writers of other European countries. True, there is no
+German Tolstoy, no German Ibsen, no German Zola--but then, is there a
+Russian Nietzsche, or a Norwegian Wagner, or a French Bismarck? Men
+like these, men of revolutionary genius, men who start new movements
+and mark new epochs, are necessarily rare and stand isolated in any
+people and at all times. The three names mentioned indicate that
+Germany, during the last fifty years, has contributed a goodly share
+even of such men. Quite apart, however, from such men of overshadowing
+genius and all-controlling power, can it be truly said that Germany,
+since Goethe's time, has been lacking in writers of high aim and
+notable attainment?
+
+It can be stated without reservation that, taken as a whole, the
+German drama of the nineteenth century has maintained a level of
+excellence superior to that reached by the drama of almost any other
+nation during the same period. Schiller's _Wallenstein_ and _Tell_,
+Goethe's _Iphigenie_ and _Faust_, Kleist's _Prinz Friedrich von
+Homburg_, Grillparzer's _Medea_, Hebbel's _Maria Magdalene_ and _Die
+Nibelungen_, Otto Ludwig's _Der Erbförster_, Freytag's _Die
+Journalisten_, Anzengruber's _Der Meineidbauer_, Wilbrandt's _Der
+Meister von Palmyra_, Wildenbruch's _Konig Heinrich_, Sudermann's
+_Heimat_, Hauptmann's _Die Weber_ and _Der arme Heinrich_,
+Hofmannsthal's _Elektra_, and, in addition to all these, the great
+musical dramas of Richard Wagner--this is a century's record of
+dramatic achievement of which any nation might be proud. I doubt
+whether either the French or the Russian or the Scandinavian stage of
+the nineteenth century, as a whole, comes up to this standard.
+Certainly, the English stage has nothing which could in any way be
+compared with it.
+
+That German lyric verse of the last hundred years should have been
+distinguished by beauty of structure, depth of feeling, and wealth of
+melody, is not to be wondered at if we remember that this was the
+century of the revival of folk-song, and that it produced such
+song-composers as Schubert and Schumann and Robert Franz and Hugo Wolf
+and Richard Strauss. But it seems strange that, apart from Heine, even
+the greatest of German lyric poets, such as Platen, Lenau, Mörike,
+Annette von Droste, Geibel, Liliencron, Dehmel, Münchhausen, Rilke,
+should be so little known beyond the borders of the Fatherland.
+
+The German novel of the past century was, for a long time,
+unquestionably inferior to both the English and the French novel of
+the same epoch. But in the midst of much that is tiresome and involved
+and artificial, there stand out, even in the middle of the century,
+such masterpieces of characterization as Otto Ludwig's _Zwischen
+Himmel und Erde_ or Wilhelm Raabe's _Der Hungerpastor_, such
+delightful revelations of genuine humor as Fritz Reuter's _Ut mine
+Stromtid_, such penetrating studies of social conditions as Gustav
+Freytag's _Soll und Haben_. And during the last third of the century
+there has clearly developed a new, forcible, original style of German
+novel writing. Seldom has the short story been handled more skilfully
+and felicitously than by such men as Paul Heyse, Gottfried Keller, C.
+F. Meyer, Theodor Storm. Seldom has the novel of tragic import and
+passion been treated with greater refinement and delicacy than in such
+works as Fontane's _Effi Briest_, Ricarda Huch's _Ludolf Ursleu_,
+Wilhelm von Polenz's _Der Büttnerbauer_, or Ludwig Thoma's _Andreas
+Vöst_. And it may be doubted whether, at the present moment, there is
+any country where the novel is represented by so many gifted writers
+or exhibits such exuberant vitality, such sturdy truthfulness, such
+seriousness of purpose, or such a wide range of imagination as in
+contemporary Germany.
+
+All these dramatists, lyric poets, and novelists, and with them not a
+few essayists, philosophers, orators, and publicists,[1] of the
+nineteenth and twentieth centuries will speak in the following volumes
+to America and other countries of the English language. They have been
+arranged, in the main, chronologically. The first three volumes have
+been given to the mature work of Goethe and Schiller--time-tested and
+securely niched. Volumes IV and V contain the principal Romanticists,
+including Fichte and Schelling; Volume VI brings Heine, Grillparzer,
+and Beethoven to view;
+
+Volume VII, Hegel and Young Germany; Volume VIII, Auerbach, Gotthelf,
+and Fritz Reuter; Volume IX, Hebbel and Ludwig; Volume X, Bismarck,
+Moltke, Lassalle. Of the second half of the collection there might be
+singled out: Volume XIV (Gottfried Keller and C.F. Meyer); Volume XV
+(Schopenhauer, Wagner, Nietzsche, Emperor William II.); Volume XVIII
+(Gerhart Hauptmann, Detlev von Liliencron, Richard Dehmel). The last
+two volumes will be devoted to the most recent of contemporary authors.
+
+The editors have been fortunate in associating with themselves a
+notable number of distinguished contributors from many universities
+and colleges in this country and abroad. A general introduction to the
+whole series has been written by Professor Richard M. Meyer of the
+University of Berlin. The last two volumes will be in charge of
+Professor Julius Petersen of the University of Basel. The
+introductions to Goethe and Schiller have been prepared by Professor
+Calvin Thomas, of Columbia University; that to the Romantic
+Philosophers by Professor Frank Thilly, of Cornell University; that to
+Richard Wagner by Professor W. R. Spalding, of Harvard University.
+And, similarly, every important author in this collection will be
+introduced by some authoritative and well known specialist.
+
+The crux of the whole undertaking lies in the correctness and adequacy
+of the translations. How difficult, if not impossible, a really
+satisfactory translation is, especially in lyric poetry, no one
+realizes more clearly than the editors. Their only comfort is that
+they have succeeded in obtaining the assistance of many well trained
+and thoroughly equipped scholars, among them such names of poets as
+Hermann Hagedorn, Percy MacKaye, George Sylvester Viereck, and
+Martin Schütze.
+
+Kuno Francke.
+
+
+PUBLISHERS' FOREWORD
+
+The German Classics is the first work issued by The German Publication
+Society in pursuance of a comprehensive plan to open to the
+English-speaking people of the world the treasures of German thought
+and achievement in Literature, Art and Science.
+
+In the production of this monumental work the thanks and appreciation
+of the Publishers are especially due to Hugo Reisinger, Esq., whose
+loyal support and constant encouragement have made possible its
+publication.
+
+
+General Introduction
+
+By Richard M. Meyer, Ph.D. Professor of German Literature, University
+of Berlin.
+
+Men formerly pictured the origin and development of a literature as an
+order less play of incalculable forces; out of a seething chaos forms
+more or less definite arose, and then, one day, behold! the literary
+earth was there, with sun and moon, water and mountains, animals and
+men. This conception was intimately connected with that of the origin
+of individual literary compositions. These likewise--since the new
+"theory of genius," spreading from England, had gained recognition
+throughout the whole of Europe, especially in those countries speaking
+the Germanic languages--were imagined to be a mere succession of
+inspirations and even of improvisations. This view of the subject can
+no longer be held either wholly or in part, though in the origin and
+growth of literature, as in every other origin and development, much
+manifestly remains that is still incomprehensible and incalculable.
+But even as regards the individual literary work, writers
+themselves--as latterly Richard Dehmel--have laid almost too strong an
+emphasis on the element of conscious deliberation. And concerning the
+whole literary product of an individual, which seems to offer the most
+instructive analogies to the literary achievement of a people, we
+received a short time ago a remarkable opinion from Carl Spitteler. He
+asserts that he is guided in his choice of definite styles and
+definite forms by an absolutely clear purpose; that he has, for
+example, essayed every kind of metre which could possibly be suited to
+his "cosmic" epic, or that he has written a novelette solely in order
+to have once written a novelette. Although in these confessions, as
+well as in Edgar Allen Poe's celebrated _Poet's Art_, self-delusion
+and pleasure in the paradoxical may very likely be mingled, it still
+remains true that such dicta as these point to certain peculiarities
+in the development of literatures. Experiments with all kinds of
+forms, imitation of certain literary _genres_ without intrinsic
+necessity, and deliberate selection of new species, play a larger part
+in the history of modern German literature than people for a long time
+wished to admit. It is true, however, that all this experimenting,
+imitating, and speculating, in the end serves a higher necessity, as
+well in the poet of genius as in a great literature.
+
+Three kinds of forces virtually determine the general trend of all
+artistic development as, indeed, of all other forms of
+evolution--forces which constitute the sum total of those that we
+comprehend under the joint name of _tradition_, a sum total of
+progressive tendencies which we will designate as _esthetic ideals_,
+and, mediating between the two, the _typical development of the
+individuals themselves_--above all, naturally, individuals of genius
+who really create literature.
+
+These powers are present everywhere, but in very different proportion.
+Characteristic of Romance literatures and also of the English, is the
+great predominance of the conservative elements. Thus not only is the
+literature of the constitutional mother-country democratic, but also
+the literature of France, otherwise so decidedly aristocratic: a
+majority dictates its laws to the distinguished individual and is
+inclined to ostracize him, if too headstrong, and exile him from the
+"Republic of Letters." This, for instance, is what happened to Lord
+Byron among the British. On the other hand, German literature, like
+Germanic literatures in general, is disposed to concede, at least at
+times, a dictatorial leadership to the individual, even at the cost of
+tradition--as, for example, to a Klopstock, a Goethe, or a Richard
+Wagner. But, in exchange, the leader is often forced to uphold his
+power, no matter how much it may have been due to his achievements, by
+coercive measures--as, again for example, by means of a prætorian
+guard of partisans, such as Klopstock first created for himself in the
+Göttinger "Hain," but which was most effectively organized by Wagner,
+and such as Victor Hugo, imitating the German model, possessed in the
+Young Guard which applauded _Hernani_. Another method of enforcing his
+mastery is the organization of a systematic reign of terror,
+consisting of bitter satires, such as Schiller and Goethe (after the
+model of Pope) founded in the _Xenien_, and the Romanticists
+established in many different forms--satires much more personal and
+much better aimed than was the general sort of mockery which the
+Romance or Romanized imitators of Horace flung at Bavius and Mævius.
+In saying all this, however, we have at the same time made it clear
+that the power and influence of the individual of genius receives much
+more positive expression in German literature than in those which
+produced men like Corneille, Calderon, yes, even Dante and
+Shakespeare. German literary history is, more than any other, occupied
+with the _Individual_.
+
+If we now try rapidly to comprehend to what extent each one of the
+already enumerated literary forces has participated in the development
+of modern German literature, we must, first of all, emphasize the fact
+that here the question is, intrinsically, one of construction--of a
+really new creation.
+
+German literature since 1700 is not simply the continuation of former
+literature with the addition of radical innovations, as is the case
+with the literature of the same period in England, but was
+systematically constructed on new theories--if it may be said that
+nature and history systematically "construct." A destruction, a
+suspension of tradition, had taken place, such as no other civilized
+nation has ever experienced in a like degree--in which connection the
+lately much-disputed question as to whether the complete decay dates
+from the time of the Thirty Years' War or the latter merely marks the
+climax of a long period of decadence may be left to take care of
+itself. In any event, about the year 1700 the literature of Germany
+stood lower than that of any other nation, once in possession of a
+great civilization and literature, has ever stood in recent times.
+Everything, literally everything, had to be created _de novo_; and it
+is natural that a nation which had to struggle for its very existence,
+for which life itself had become a daily questioning of fate, could at
+first think of renovation only through its conservative forces. Any
+violent commotion in the religious or political, in the economic or
+social, sphere, as well as in the esthetic, might prove fatal, or at
+least appear to be so.
+
+The strongest conservative factor of a literature is the language.
+Upon its relative immutability depends, in general, the possibility of
+literary compositions becoming the common possession of many
+generations--depends absolutely all transmission. Especially is poetic
+language wont to bear the stamp of constancy; convenient formulas,
+obvious rhymes, established epithets, favorite metaphors, do not, in
+periods of exhaustion, afford much choice in the matter of
+phraseology. On the other hand, however, a new tenor of thought, often
+enough a new tenor of feeling, is continually pressing forward to
+demand a medium of expression. This battle between the established
+linguistic form and the new content gives rise to charming, but at the
+same time alarming, conflicts. In the seventeenth century it was felt
+strongly how much the store of linguistic expression had diminished,
+partly on account of a violent and careless "working of the mine,"
+which made prodigal use of the existing medium, as was the case in the
+prose of Luther and, above all, of Johann Fischart and his
+contemporaries; partly on account of a narrow confinement to a small
+number of ideas and words, as in the church hymns.
+
+This impoverishment of the language the century of the great war tried
+to remedy in two opposite ways. For the majority the easiest solution
+was to borrow from their richer neighbors, and thus originated that
+affectation of all things foreign, which, in speaking, led to the most
+variegated use and misuse of foreign words. Patriotically-minded men,
+on the contrary, endeavored to cultivate the purity of their mother
+tongue the while they enriched it; this, above all, was the ambition
+of the various "Linguistic Societies." Their activity, though soon
+deprived of a wide usefulness by pedantry and a clannish spirit,
+prepared the way for great feats of linguistic reorganization. Through
+Christian Wolff a philosophic terminology was systematically created;
+from Pietism were received new mediums of expression for intimate
+conditions of the soul; neither must we quite overlook the fact that
+to some extent a new system of German titles and official designations
+was associated with the new institutions of the modern state. More
+important, however, than these details--which might have been
+accomplished by men like Johann Gottfried Herder, Immanuel Kant and
+Goethe; like the statesman, Heinrich Freiherr von Stein; and the
+warrior, General von Scharnhorst--was this fact that, in general, an
+esthetic interest had been again awakened in the language, which too
+long had served as a mere tool. Also the slowly developing study of
+language was of some help; even the falsest etymology taught people to
+look upon words as organisms; even the most superficial grammar, to
+observe broad relationships and parallel formations. So, then, the
+eighteenth century could, in the treatment of the mother tongue, enter
+upon a goodly heritage, of which for a long time Johann Christoph
+Gottsched might not unjustly be counted the guardian. It was a
+thoroughly conservative linguistic stewardship, which received
+gigantic expression in Adelung's Dictionary--with all its
+deficiencies, the most important German dictionary that had been
+compiled up to that time. Clearness, intelligibleness, exactitude were
+insisted upon. It was demanded that there should be a distinct
+difference between the language of the writer and that in everyday
+use, and again a difference between poetic language and prose; on the
+other hand, great care had to be taken that the difference should
+never become too great, so that common intelligibility should not
+suffer. Thus the new poetic language of Klopstock, precisely on
+account of its power and richness, was obliged to submit to the
+bitterest mockery and the most injudicious abuse from the partisans of
+Gottsched. As the common ideal of the pedagogues of language, who were
+by no means merely narrow-minded pedants, one may specify that which
+had long ago been accomplished for France--namely, a uniform choice of
+a stock of words best suited to the needs of a clear and luminous
+literature for the cultivated class, and the stylistic application of
+the same. Two things, above all, were neglected: they failed to
+realize (as did France also) the continual development of a healthy
+language, though the ancients had glimpses of this; and they failed
+(this in contrast to France) to comprehend the radical differences
+between the various forms of literary composition. Therefore the
+pre-classical period still left enough to be done by the classical.
+
+It was Klopstock who accomplished the most; he created a new, a lofty
+poetic language, which was to be recognized, not by the use of
+conventional metaphors and swelling hyperboles, but by the direct
+expression of a highly exalted mood. However, the danger of a forced
+overstraining of the language was combatted by Christoph Martin
+Wieland, who formed a new and elegant narrative prose on Greek,
+French, and English models, and also introduced the same style into
+poetic narrative, herein abetted by Friedrich von Hagedorn as his
+predecessor and co-worker. Right on the threshold, then, of the great
+new German literature another mixture of styles sprang up, and we see,
+for example, Klopstock strangely transplanting his pathos into the
+field of theoretical researches on grammar and metrics, and Wieland
+not always keeping his irony aloof from the most solemn subjects. But
+beside them stood Gotthold Ephraim Lessing who proved himself to be
+the most thoughtful of the reformers of poetry, in that he emphasized
+the divisions--especially necessary for the stylistic development of
+German poetry--of literary categories and the arts. The most
+far-reaching influence, however, was exercised by Herder, when he
+preached that the actual foundation of all poetic treatment of
+language was the individual style, and exemplified the real nature of
+original style, i. e., inwardly-appropriate modes of expression, by
+referring, on the one hand, to the poetry of the people and, on the
+other, to Shakespeare or the Bible, the latter considered as a higher
+type of popular poetry.
+
+So the weapons lay ready to the hand of the dramatist Lessing, the
+lyric poet Goethe, and the preacher Herder, who had helped to forge
+them for their own use; for drama, lyrics, and oratory separate
+themselves quite naturally from ordinary language, and yet in their
+subject matter, in the anticipation of an expectant audience, in the
+unavoidable connection with popular forms of speech, in singing, and
+the very nature of public assemblies, they have a basis that prevents
+them from becoming conventional. But not quite so favorable was the
+condition of the different varieties of narrative composition. Here a
+peculiarly specific style, such as the French novel especially
+possesses, never reached complete perfection. The style of Wieland
+would necessarily appear too light as soon as the subject matter of
+the novel became more intimate and personal; that of the imitators of
+Homer necessarily too heavy. Perhaps here also Lessing's sense of
+style might have furnished a model of permanent worth, in the same way
+that he furnished one for the comedy and the didactic drama, for the
+polemic treatise and the work of scientific research. For is not the
+tale of the three rings, which forms the kernel of _Nathan the Wise_,
+numbered among the great standard pieces of German elocution, in spite
+of all the contradictions and obscurities which have of late been
+pointed out in it, but which only the eye of the microscopist can
+perceive? In general it is the "popular philosophers" who have, more
+than any one else, produced a fixed prose style; as a reader of good
+but not exclusively classical education once acknowledged to me that
+the German of J.J. Engel was more comprehensible to him and seemed
+more "modern" than that of Goethe. As a matter of fact, the narrator
+Goethe, in the enchanting youthful composition of _Werther_, did
+venture very close to the lyrical, but in his later novels his style
+at times dangerously approached a dry statement of facts, or a
+rhetorically inflated declamation; and even in _The Elective
+Affinities_, which stands stylistically higher than any of his other
+novels, he has not always avoided a certain stiltedness that forms a
+painful contrast to the warmth of his sympathy for the characters. On
+the other hand, in scientific compositions he succeeded in
+accomplishing what had hitherto been unattainable--just because, in
+this case, the new language had first to be created by him.
+
+Seldom are even the great writers of the following period quite free
+from the danger of a lack-lustre style in their treatment of the
+language, above all in narrative composition. It is only in the
+present day that Thomas Mann, Jacob Wassermann, and Ricarda Huch are
+trying along different lines, but with equal zeal, to form a fixed
+individual style for the German prose-epic. The great exceptions of
+the middle period, the writers of prose-epics Jeremias Gotthelf and
+Gottfried Keller, the novelists Paul Heyse and Marie von
+Ebner-Eschenbach, the narrator of anecdotes Ludwig Anzengruber, with
+his greater predecessor Johann Peter Hebel, and his lesser
+contemporary Peter Rosegger, the portrayer of still-life Adalbert
+Stifter and a few others, have, more by a happy instinct than anything
+else, hit upon the style proper to their form of composition, lack of
+which prevents us from enjoying an endless number of prose works of
+the nineteenth century, which, as far as their subject matter goes,
+are not unimportant. In this connection I will only mention Karl
+Gutzkow's novels describing his own period, or, from an earlier time,
+Clemens Brentano's fairy tales, Friedrich Hebbel's humoresques, or
+even the rhetorically emotional historical compositions of Heinrich
+von Treitschke, found in certain parts of his work. But this lack of a
+fixed specific style spread likewise to other forms of composition;
+Schiller's drama became too rhetorical; Friedrich Rückert's lyric
+poetry too prosaically didactic; that of Annette von Droste-Hülshoff
+often too obscure and sketchy.
+
+If, therefore, the struggle with the language was fought out
+successfully by modern German literature only on the battleground of
+the lyric (and even there, as we have seen, not without exceptions),
+on the other hand a second conservative force was placed at the
+service of the literary development with more uniform success, namely
+_Metrics_. To be sure, here again this applies only to verse, for the
+corresponding art of prose rhythm has been as good as lost to the
+Germans, in contrast to the French, and almost more so to the English.
+In prose also a conscious and systematic attempt to make an artistic
+division into paragraphs, chapters, and books, has only been made in
+recent times, above all in and since the writings of Nietzsche. For as
+far as the treatment of language in itself is concerned, German
+literature has hardly yet fully developed an artistic form; writers
+still continue to treat it far too much as a mere tool. But verse is
+felt to be an object for artistic molding, although here too the
+naturalistic dogmas of the Storm and Stress writers, of the
+Romanticists, Young Germans and Ultra-Moderns, have often shaken the
+theories upon which the artistic perfection of our poetry is based.
+
+In this regard, likewise, there was, in the seventeenth century, a
+great difficulty to be overcome. Changes in language, the effect of
+French and Italian style, the influence of music, had weakened the
+foundations of the German art of verse, which were already partly
+broken down by mechanical wear and tear. The comparatively simple
+regulation contrived by an ordinary, though clever, poet, Martin
+Opitz, proved capable of enduring for centuries; a connection was
+established between the accent of verse and natural accent, which at
+the same time, by means of more stringent rules, created barriers
+against variable accent. It was merely a question of arranging the
+words in such fashion that, without forming too great a contradiction
+to the common-place order of words, the way in which the accents were
+placed upon them should result in a regularly alternating rise and
+fall. On the whole, this principle was found to be sufficient until
+the enthusiasm of the new poetic generation demanded a closer
+connection between the poetic form and the variable conditions of the
+soul; they found a way out of the difficulty by carrying a rhythmical
+mood through a variety of metrical divisions, and thus came upon the
+"free rhythms." From whatever source these were derived, either from
+the misunderstood poems of Pindar, from the language of the Bible or
+of the enthusiastic mystics, or from the poetic half-prose of the
+pastoral poet Salomon Gessner, they were, in any case, something new
+and peculiar, and their nature has not been grasped in the least
+degree by the French in their "vers libres," or at any rate only since
+the half-Germanic Fleming Verhaeren. They received an interesting
+development through Goethe and Heinrich Heine, while most of the other
+poets who made use of them, even the greatest one, Novalis, often
+deteriorated either into a regular, if rhymeless, versification, or
+into a pathetic, formless prose.
+
+Another method of procuring new metrical mediums of expression for the
+new wealth of emotions was to borrow. Klopstock naturalized antique
+metres, or rather made them familiar to the school and to cultivated
+poets, while on the other hand Heine's derision of August von Platen's
+set form of verse was welcomed in many circles, and even the elevated
+poems of Friedrich Hölderlin, which approached the antique form,
+remained foreign to the people, like the experiments of Leconte de
+Lisle in France; in Italy it fared otherwise with Carducci's _Odi
+barbare_. Only one antique metre became German, in the same sense that
+Shakespeare had become a German poet; this was the hexameter, alone or
+in connection with the pentameter; for the ratio of its parts to one
+another, on which everything depends in higher metrics, corresponded,
+to some extent, to that of the German couplets. For the same reason
+the sonnet--not, however, without a long and really bitter fight--was
+able to win a secure place in German reflective lyric poetry; indeed
+it had already been once temporarily in our possession during the
+seventeenth century. Thus two important metres had been added to
+German poetry's treasure house of forms: first, the hexameter for a
+continuous narrative of a somewhat epic character, even though without
+high solemnity--which Goethe alone once aspired to in his
+_Achilleis_--and also for shorter epigrammatic or didactic
+observations in the finished manner of the distich; second, the sonnet
+for short mood-pictures and meditations. The era of the German
+hexameter seems, however, to be over at present, while, on the
+contrary, the sonnet, brought to still higher perfection by Platen,
+Moritz von Strachwitz and Paul Heyse, still exercises its old power of
+attraction, especially over poets with a tendency toward Romance art.
+However, both hexameter or distich and sonnet have become, in Germany,
+pure literary forms of composition. While in Italy the sonnet is still
+sung, we are filled with astonishment that Brahms should have set to
+music a distich--_Anacreon_. Numerous other forms, taken up
+principally by the Romantic school and the closely related "Exotic
+School," have remained mere literary playthings. For a certain length
+of time the ghasel seemed likely to be adopted as a shell to contain
+scattered thoughts, wittily arranged, or (almost exclusively by
+Platen) also for mood-pictures; but without doubt the undeservedly
+great success of Friedrich von Bodenstedt's _Mirza Schaffy_ has cast
+permanent discredit on this form. The favorite stanza of Schiller is
+only one of the numerous strophe forms of our narrative or reflective
+lyric; it has never attained an "ethos" peculiar to itself.
+Incidentally, the French alexandrines were the fashion for a short
+time after Victor Hugo's revival of them was revivified by Ferdinand
+Freiligrath, and were recently used with variations by Carl Spitteler
+(which, however, he denies) as a foundation for his epic poems. So,
+too, the "Old German rhymed verse" after the manner of Hans Sachs,
+enjoyed a short popularity; and one saw virtuosos playing with the
+canzone or the makame. On the whole, however, German lyric poetry is
+rather made up of simple formations in the style of the folk-song,
+especially since the important rhythmic transformation of this
+material by Heine created new possibilities for accommodating the
+inner form to new subject matter without conspicuously changing the
+outer form. For two great simplifying factors have, since Goethe, been
+predominant in protecting our lyric poetry from unfruitful
+artificiality; the influence of the folk-song and the connection with
+music have kept it more full of vital energy than the too literary
+lyric poetry of the French, and richer in variety than the too
+cultivated lyric of the English. Whoever shut the door on the
+influences spoken of, as did Franz Grillparzer or Hebbel, and, in a
+different way, Annette von Droste-Hülshoff or Heinrich Leuthold, at
+the same time nullified a good part of his efficiency.
+
+The drama almost exclusively assumed a foreign, though kindred, form
+as a garb for the more elevated styles of composition: namely, the
+blank verse of the English stage, which Lessing's _Nathan the Wise_
+had popularized and A.W. Schlegel's Shakespeare had rendered
+omnipotent, and which Schiller forced upon his successors. The
+Romanticists, by playing unsuccessfully with different forms, as in
+Ludwig Tieck's _Octavianus_, or Immerman's _Alexis_, or by adopting
+pure antique or Spanish metres, attempted in vain to free themselves
+from the restraint of form, the great danger of which consisted in its
+similarity to common-place sentence construction, so that the verse
+ran the risk either of becoming prosaic, or else, in trying forcibly
+to avoid this, of growing bombastic. An escape was provided by
+inserting, in moments of emotion, a metre of a more lyrical quality
+into the uniform structure of the usual vehicle of dramatic dialogue,
+particularly when partaking of the nature of a monologue; as Goethe
+did, for example, in the "Song of the Fates" in _Iphigenia_, that most
+metrically perfect of all German dramatic poems, and as Schiller
+continued to do with increased boldness in the songs introduced into
+_Mary Stuart_. Perhaps the greatest perfection in such use of the
+principle of the "free rhythm" as applied to the drama, was reached by
+Franz Grillparzer in the _Golden Fleece_, on the model of certain
+fragments by Goethe, such as the _Prometheus_. On the other hand, the
+interesting experiments in the _Bride of Messina_ are of more
+importance for the development of the opera into a work of art
+complete in itself, than for that of the drama. In general, however,
+it is to be remarked as a peculiarity of modern German drama, that it
+seeks to escape from monotony, which the French classical theatre
+hardly ever succeeded in avoiding, by calling in the aid of the other
+arts. Plastic art is often employed for scenic arrangement, and music
+to produce effects on and behind the stage. Both were made use of by
+Schiller; and it was under his influence that they were tried by
+Goethe in his later period--though we find a remarkable sporadic
+appearance of them even as early as _Götz_ and _Klavigo_. The mastery
+which Grillparzer also attained in this respect has been striven after
+by his fellow countrymen with some degree of success: as, for example,
+by Ferdinand Raimund, by Ludwig Anzengruber, and also by Friedrich
+Halm and Hugo von Hofmannsthal.
+
+Besides blank verse, the only other garb in vogue for the serious
+drama was prose: this was not only used for realistic pictures of
+conditions of a decidedly cheerful type (since Lessing had introduced
+the _bourgeois_ dramas of Diderot into Germany), but also for pathetic
+tragedies, the vital power of which the lack of stylistic disguising
+of language was supposed to increase. This was the form employed in
+the Storm and Stress drama, and therefore in the prison scene of
+_Faust_, as also in Schiller's youthful dramas, and again we find it
+adopted by Hebbel and the Young Germans, and by the naturalistic
+school under the leadership of Ibsen. The Old German rhymed verse
+found only a temporary place between these two forms. It was glorified
+and made almost sacrosanct by having been used for the greatest of our
+dramas, Goethe's _Faust_; Wildenbruch in particular tried to gain new
+effects with it. Other attempts also went hand in hand with
+deeper-reaching efforts to reconstruct the inner form of the drama;
+thus the tendency to a veiled polyphony of language in the folk-scenes
+of Christian Dietrich Grabbe and in all the plays of Heinrich von
+Kleist; this in Hofmannsthal's _Oedipus_ led to regular choruses, of
+quite a different type, however, from those of the _Bride of Messina_.
+Gerhart Hauptmann's _Weavers_ and _Florian Geyer_ may be considered
+the culminating points of this movement, in spite of their apparently
+entirely prosaic form.
+
+Modern German drama, which in its peculiar style is still largely
+unappreciated because it has always been measured by its real or
+supposed models, is, together with the free-rhythm lyric, the greatest
+gift bestowed upon the treasure of forms of the world-literature by
+the literature of Germany which has so often played the part of
+recipient.
+
+On the other hand, when speaking of the development of narrative
+prose, we should remember what we have already accomplished in that
+line. The "Novelle" alone has attained a fixed form, as a not too
+voluminous account of a remarkable occurrence. It is formally
+regulated in advance by the absolute domination of a decisive
+incident--as, for example, the outbreak of a concealed love in Heyse,
+or the moment of farewell in Theodor Storm. All previous incidents are
+required to assist in working up to this climax; all later ones are
+introduced merely to allow its echo to die away. In this austerity of
+concentration the German "Novelle," the one rigidly artistic form of
+German prose, is related to the "Short Story" which has been so
+eagerly heralded in recent times, especially by America. The "Novelle"
+differs, however, from this form of literary composition, which
+Maupassant cultivated with the most masterly and unrivaled success, by
+its subordination to a climax; whereas the Short Story, in reality, is
+usually a condensed novel, that is to say, the history of a
+development concentrated in a few incidents. Our literature also
+possesses such short "sketches," but the love of psychological detail
+in the development of the plot nearly always results in the greater
+diffuseness of the novel. The real "Novelle" is, however, at least as
+typical of the Germans as the Short Story is of the Americans, and in
+no other form of literary composition has Germany produced so many
+masters as in this--and in the lyric. For the latter is closely
+related to the German "Novelle" because it loves to invest the way to
+and from the culminating point with the charm produced by a certain
+mood, as the half-German Bret Harte loves to do in similar artistic
+studies, but the Russian Tschechow never indulges himself in, and the
+Frenchman Maupassant but seldom. On this account our best writers of
+"Novellen" have also been, almost without exception, eminent lyric
+poets; such were Goethe, Tieck, Eichendorff, Mörike, Keller, Heyse,
+Theodor Storm and C.F. Meyer; whereas, in the case of Marie von
+Ebner-Eschenbach, who otherwise would form an exception, even what
+appears to be a "Novelle" is in reality a "small novel."
+
+The novel, on the contrary, still enjoys in Germany the dangerous
+privilege of formlessness. In its language it varies from the vague
+lyric of romantic composition to the bureaucratic sobriety of
+mechanically-compiled studies of real life. In its outline, in the
+rhythm of its construction, in the division of its parts and the way
+in which they are brought into relief, it has, in spite of masterly
+individual performances, never attained a specific literary form, such
+as has long been possessed by the English and the French novels.
+Likewise the inclination, sanctioned by Goethe and the Romantic
+school, to interpolate specimens of the least formed half-literary
+_genres_--namely, letters and diaries--worked against the adoption of
+a fixed form, notwithstanding that this expedient augmented the
+great--often indeed too great--inner richness of the German novel.
+Thus the German novel, as well as the so justly favorite form of
+letters and diaries, is of infinitely more importance as a human or
+contemporary "document" than as a direct work of art. We have,
+however, already drawn attention to the fact that the never-failing
+efforts to clothe the novel in a more esthetically pure form have, in
+our own day, happily increased.
+
+The traditional _material_ of literary compositions is, however, also
+a conservative power, just as are language and form. The stock of
+dominating motives naturally undergoes just as many transformations as
+language or metrics; but, in both cases, what already exists has a
+determining influence on everything new, often going so far as to
+suppress the latter entirely. Customary themes preferably claim the
+interest of the reader; as, for example, in the age of religious
+pictures it would have been exceedingly hard to procure an order for a
+purely worldly painting. The artists themselves unconsciously glide
+into the usual path, and what was intended to be a world-poem flows
+off into the convenient worn channel of the love-story. But the
+vivifying and deepening power of the Germanic spirit has here, more
+than in any other domain, destroyed the opposing force of inertia.
+
+The oldest poetry is confined to such subjects as are of universal
+interest--one could also say of universal importance. War and the
+harvest, the festivals of the gods and the destinies of the tribe, are
+the subjects of song. These things retain their traditional interest
+even where a healthy communal life no longer exists. Epochs which are
+absolutely wanting in political understanding still cultivate the
+glory of Brutus in an epic or dramatic form; or those ages which can
+scarcely lay claim to a living religious interest still join in
+choruses in honor of Apollo or in honor of the Christian religion.
+Every literature carries with it a large and respectable ballast of
+sensations that are no longer felt, of objects that are no longer
+seen, culminating in the spring-songs of poets confined to their room,
+and the wine-songs of the water-drinkers. A stagnating literature, as
+that of the seventeenth century was essentially, always has an
+especially large amount of such rubbish. Poems composed for certain
+occasions, in the worst sense--that is to say, poems of congratulation
+and condolence written for money, trivial reflections and mechanical
+devotion, occupy an alarmingly large space in the lyric of this
+period. Drama is entirely confined, and the novel for the greater
+part, to the dressing up in adopted forms of didactic subject matter
+of the most general type. Men of individuality are, however, not
+altogether lacking: such were lyric poets like Andreas Gryphius and
+Paul Fleming, gnomologists like Johann Scheffler, and narrators like
+J.J. Christoffel von Grimmelshausen; but even with them the personal
+note does not dare to sound openly. The first to give free expression
+again to intimate sensations is Christian Günther, and he arouses
+thereby contradiction, together with admiration. The court poets about
+the year 1700 work more in a negative way, i. e., by that which they
+did not express in their verses. The great merit of the pre-classical
+writers is to have created space, on the one hand, for personal
+sensations, and, on the other, for the great new thoughts of the age.
+Hagedorn, with the elegant frivolity of the man of the world,
+continued the necessary sifting of antiquated material; Albrecht von
+Haller, with the deep seriousness of the great student of nature, once
+more squarely faced the eternal problems. But the entire wealth of
+inner experience, in its most exclusively individual sense, was first
+revealed, not only to the literature of Germany but to modern
+literature in general, by Klopstock. Along this path Goethe pressed
+forward gloriously, his whole poetic work presenting, according to his
+own testimony, a single great confession. From Haller, on the
+contrary, proceeds the effort to develop a poetical style that would
+enable individuals to share in the great thoughts of the age. Lessing
+strides onward from _Minna von Barnhelm_--the first drama of
+contemporary history since the _Persians_ of Æschylus--to _Nathan the
+Wise_, herein following the lead of the "literature with a distinct
+purpose" (_Tendenz-Dichtung_) of France, and especially of Voltaire,
+otherwise antipathetic to Lessing. Lessing's great dramatic heir is
+Schiller, whose tradition is in turn carried on by Kleist, the latter
+allowing his personality to penetrate the subject matter far more even
+than either of his predecessors.
+
+But the utmost was done by Goethe, when in _Werther_ and _Götz_, in
+_Prometheus_ or _Satyros_, but above all eventually in _Faust_, he
+lived through in advance--or, as he himself said, he "anticipated"
+(_vorfühlte_)--the peculiar experience of the age with such intensity
+that, in the work which resulted, the individual experience became the
+direct experience of the whole generation.
+
+Out of the "reverence for nature" (_Naturfrömmigkeit_) with which he
+contemplated all created things--from "the Cedar of Lebanon to the
+hyssop which grows on the wall," from the mighty movement of the
+stream in _Mahomet_ to the bit of cheese that is weighed by the old
+woman in _Die Geschwister_--out of all comes a widening of the poetic
+horizon, the like of which had never before been seen in any age. The
+Romanticists in reality only made a watchword out of this practice of
+Goethe's when they demanded "progressive universal poetry," by which
+they meant that the poet should live through the whole experience of
+creation in his own person. In demanding this, they--as the aging
+Goethe had himself done--formed too narrow a conception of the
+personal, and rejected too absolutely the problems of politics and of
+science, so that once more a narrowing process ensued. But even in
+their own ranks this tendency was offset by the exigency of the times;
+after the wars of liberation, political and in general, poetry written
+with a purpose was actually in the ascendency. The poetry of the mood,
+like that of a Mörike, remained for a long time almost unknown on
+account of its strictly intimate character. In the success of Ernst
+von Wildenbruch we see provisionally the last victory of this sort of
+literature--which directly proclaims what is worth striving for--at
+least in its loftier form. For the contemporary novel constantly takes
+for its subject the emancipation of woman, or the fight for culture,
+the protection of the Ostmark, or the fight against alcohol.
+
+On the other hand the Romantic school has also broadened the realm of
+poetic material in a very important manner, by adding to it the
+provinces of the phantastic, the visionary, the fairy-like, and by
+giving to the symbolical an undreamed-of expansion.
+
+On the whole, modern German literature has probably a richer field
+from which to choose her material than any other literature can boast
+of. In fact it is perhaps too variegated, and thus, because of the
+richness and originality of its subject matter, allows too much
+latitude to genius. One field only in poetry, considered from the
+viewpoint of real art, is almost uncultivated. All the efforts and all
+the attempts on the part of both Catholics and Protestants have not
+succeeded in producing religious poems of any degree of importance
+since Annette von Droste-Hülshoff ceased to sing; whereas, on the
+other hand, poetry that is hostile to the church has brought to
+maturity some great productions, not only in Anzengruber or Karl
+Schoenherr, in Friedrich Theodor Vischer, in Storm, and Keller, but,
+above all, in Nietzsche. A turn in the tide that seems just now to be
+taking place is exemplified in the important epic poems of Enrica von
+Handel-Mazzetti.
+
+Finally, as the last and, in a certain sense, the strongest, pillar of
+permanency we will name the public. It is just as much a product as a
+contributing factor of literature; in both respects, however,
+preëminently important as a conservative force. The predominant and
+enduring tendencies, forms, and subjects are naturally chiefly
+conducive to the formation of a circle of "fixed subscribers" among
+the crowd of possible patrons. These subscribers, on their part, of
+course insist upon the preservation of those tendencies, forms, and
+subjects by which they are attracted. In the same way that, in
+general, a large "reading world," or a regular public for a theatre,
+or a solid community of devotees for each of the different species of
+song (as for example, the religious song, the folk-song, the student's
+song) is organized, so do important personalities call into being a
+special following of admirers, such as the partisans of Hebbel, the
+Wagnerians, and the adherents of Stefan George. But these narrow
+circles are often much more intolerant of every effort on the part of
+the master to depart from the program he has sworn to, than are
+outsiders. The history of the German public, unlike that of the
+English or French, is less a church-history than a sect-history.
+Schiller alone succeeded in becoming the national poet of his
+people--and he had his merits as well as his weaknesses to thank for
+it. Lessing is the one who comes next to him, whereas Goethe really
+reached the masses in only a few of his compositions. On the other
+hand, he made a stronger impression upon, and gave more happiness to,
+the intellectual classes than any of our poets since Klopstock. After
+him, only poets of a decidedly esoteric character, such as Stefan
+George or Friedrich Nietzsche, have had such a profound effect or one
+so capable of stirring the remoter depths of the soul. Even with Jean
+Paul the impression produced was more superficial. Latterly, however,
+periodicals, lecture-courses and clubs have replaced the
+"_caucus_"--which was formerly held by the most influential readers
+and hearers of the literary fraternities. This change has gone so far
+that the intimacy of the relations between a poet and his admirers,
+which was still possible in the early days of Hauptmann, Hofmannsthal,
+George, and Dehmel, now actually exists only for those poets who have
+not attained any special renown, such as Alfred Mombert, or, perhaps,
+we might also include Spitteler. An amalgamation of the different
+groups, which in Germany are wont to prove their love for their patron
+by combatting his supposed or real opponents rather than by actively
+fostering his artistic tendencies, might have produced a strong and
+effective reading public. But sooner can a stenographer of the Stolze
+school agree with one of the Gabelsberger system than can a votary of
+Dehmel dare to recognize the greatness in George, an admirer of
+Schnitzler see the importance of Herbert Eulenberg, or a friend of
+Gustav Frenssen acknowledge the power of Ricarda Huch. Our public, by
+its separatist taste and the unduly emphasized obstinacy of its
+antipathies, will continue for a long time still to hinder that unity,
+which, rising above even a just recognition of differences, is the
+only element which makes a great literature possible. Of course the
+critics are to be reckoned among the public, whether we consider
+criticism by professional reviewers or the more discriminating
+criticism of theatre directors, composers, etc.
+
+In all the foregoing discussion of the prevailingly conservative
+forces in the development of literature we have seen that none of
+these forces has a completely restraining effect. Language always
+undergoes a certain change, even in the most benumbed periods, since
+it is obliged to suit itself to the new demands of trade, of society,
+even of literature itself. We also saw that form and material were not
+an inert mass, but were in continual, though often slow, movement.
+Finally, though the public itself always demands essentially the same
+thing, it has, nevertheless, new variations which are forced upon it
+by its avidity for new subjects; it also demands, when it has enjoyed
+a higher artistic education (as in the days of the Classical and
+Romantic writers), perfection of technique and increase in
+specifically artistic values. Between the abiding and the progressive,
+between the conservative and revolutionary tendencies, _the typical
+development of the individual himself_ takes its place as a natural
+intermediary factor. No literary "generation" is composed of men
+actually of the same age. Beside the quite young who are merely
+panting to express themselves, stand the mature who exercise an
+esthetic discernment, even as regards their own peculiar experience;
+finally, there are also the older men who have already said their say.
+In the same way every public is made up of people of all ages. These
+make different demands of their poets; youth wishes to conquer,
+manhood to fortify, old age merely not to lose. It is self-evident
+that points of conformity are to be found between the most widely
+differing fields: as, for example, conservative tendencies are present
+in the camp of the destroyers, revolutionary tendencies in that of the
+conservatives. In other words, in every community of men, no matter of
+what description, who are united by any kind of higher interest, new
+ideals grow up out of this very community of interest. Men who happen
+to be thrown together mutually cause one another's demands to
+increase; those who work in common try to outdo one another. Out of
+their midst personalities arise, who, brought up with the loftiest
+ideals, or often spurred on by the supineness of the public, with
+passionate earnestness make what merely filled up the leisure hours of
+others the sole purpose of their lives. Thus, in Germany above all,
+the new ideal has been born again and again, constituting the
+strongest motive power which exists, besides the personality of
+genius itself.
+
+Of the greatest importance, to begin with, is the _ideal of a national
+literature itself_. Gottsched was the first in Germany, if not to
+apprehend it, at least to ponder it and to advocate it with persistent
+zeal. The literature of antiquity and the literature of France offered
+types of fixed national units. The affinity between the two as
+national units had been pointed out in France and England by means of
+the celebrated "Combat of the ancients and moderns," which also first
+gave living writers sufficient courage to think of comparing modern
+art with ancient.
+
+Gottsched presented a program which he systematically strove to carry
+out, and in which one of the most important places is given to the
+building up of an artistic theatre, after the model of the great
+civilized nations. He surely had as much right to show some
+intolerance toward the harlequin and the popular stage as Lessing (who
+supplanted him while continuing his work) had to indulge in a like
+prejudice against the classical theatre of the French. Lessing,
+however, as we have already seen, goes at the same time more deeply
+into the matter by proposing not only a systematic but also an organic
+construction of the separate _genres_, and Herder took the last step
+when he demanded an autochthonous growth--that is to say, a
+development of art out of the inner necessity of personalities on the
+one hand, and of nationalities on the other. To be sure, the great
+poets who now appeared were not included in the program, and Gottsched
+did not appreciate Haller, nor did Lessing form a correct estimate of
+Goethe, or Herder of Schiller. There is, however, a mysterious
+connection between the aspirations of the nation and the appearance
+of genius.
+
+Klopstock probably felt most directly what was wanting in the
+literature of his people, as he was also the most burning patriot of
+all our classical writers; and at the same time, as is proved by the
+_Republic of Letters_, his strange treatise on the art of poetry, he
+was the one among them who bore the most resemblance to the literary
+pedant of the old days. He is, therefore, continually occupied with
+the comparison between German and foreign art, language, and
+literature, which endeavor was continued later on and with other
+methods by A.W. Schlegel. But Herder also, in his comparison of the
+native art of Germany with the art of antiquity, of the Orient and of
+England, produced effective results; no less did Lessing, although the
+latter seeks to learn from the faults of his neighbors rather than
+from their excellencies. Goethe's criticism is dominated to such a
+degree by his absorption in the antique, and also in French and
+English general literature, that he has no understanding of national
+peculiarities when they do not conform to typical literary phenomena,
+as Uhland's lyric and Kleist's drama--two literary phenomena which we,
+nowadays, consider eminently national. The Romantic school was the
+first to try to place the conception of national literature as a whole
+on an autochthonous basis, and the scientific speculation to which
+Romanticism gave rise, has, since the Brothers Grimm, also resulted in
+serviceable rules gained from the increasingly thorough knowledge of
+language, of national development, and of social conditions. This new
+point of view reaches its climax in the attempts of Karl Müllenhoff
+and Wilhelm Scherer to trace the native literary development directly
+back to the nature and destiny of the German nation. But even as that
+proved scientifically unsuccessful, so likewise it was not feasible
+practically to establish a poetry confined to native materials, forms,
+and opinions. In vain did Tieck try to play off the youthful Goethe,
+as the only national one, against the Goethe of the Weimar period,
+which attempt many after him have repeated; or again, it was proposed
+to strike Heine out of the history of our literature as un-German--the
+last two literary events of European significance in Germany,
+according to Nietzsche. On the contrary, a comparison of German
+literature with those of foreign nations was not only necessary but
+also fruitful, as a certain exhaustion had set in, which lent an
+aftermath character to the leaders of the German "intellectual poetry"
+(_Bildungs-Poesie_) of that time. It was necessary once again to
+compare our technique, our relationship between the poet and the
+people, our participation in all the various literary _genres_ and
+problems, with the corresponding phenomena in the countries of Zola,
+Björnson, Tolstoy, Ibsen, and Strindberg.
+
+This, now, leads up to another question, to that concerning _poetic
+ideals_, and not only poetry in itself; the poet also becomes the
+object of interest and expectation. Every age embodies a different
+ideal, by which in all instances the already existing type and the
+loftier hopes of youth are welded into one--if we maybe allowed so to
+express it. Antiquity asked that the poet should fill the heart with
+gladness; the Middle Ages desired edification with a spiritual or a
+worldly coloring; the first centuries of modern times applied to him
+for instruction. This last ideal was still in vogue at the beginning
+of modern German literature. But gradually the conception of
+"instruction" altered. The poet of the Germanic nations had now to be
+one who could interpret the heart. He should no longer be the medium
+for conveying those matters which the didactic novel and the edifying
+lyric had treated--things valuable where knowledge of the world and
+human nature, intercourse and felicity are concerned--but he must
+become a seer again, an announcer of mysterious wisdom. "Whatever,
+unknown or unminded by others, wanders by night through the labyrinth
+of the heart"--that he must transmit to the hearer; he must allow the
+listener to share with him the gift of "being able to give expression
+to his suffering." Thus the chief task of the modern poet became "the
+reproduction of the objective world through the subjective,"
+consequently "experience." Real events, objects, manifestations must
+pass through a human soul in order to gain poetic significance, and
+upon the significance of the receiving soul, not upon the "poetic" or
+"unpoetic" nature of the subject itself, depends the poetic
+significance.
+
+With this new conception, however, new dangers are connected. Near at
+hand lies the fear of a too open declaration of the most intimate
+feelings. In many old-style poets of modern times, in Hölderlin, in
+Kleist, Grillparzer, and Annette von Droste-Hülshoff this fear assumes
+the character of ethical aversion to baring their feelings in public.
+But near, too, lies the hunt after interesting experiences--the need
+to "experience something" at any price--which marred the life of a
+romantic poet of Brentano's talents, and also affected the conduct of
+the realist Grabbe. A new responsibility was placed upon the shoulders
+of the German poet, which rested heavily on men like Otto Ludwig, and
+on account of which writers like Hebbel or Richard Wagner thought
+themselves justified in claiming the royal privileges of the favorites
+of the gods.
+
+An entirely new method of poetic study began, which perhaps originated
+with Heinrich von Kleist: a passionate endeavor to place the whole of
+life at the service of observation or to spend it in the study of
+technique. The consequence was not seldom a nervous derangement of the
+whole apparatus of the soul, just at the moment when it should have
+been ready for its greatest performances, as in the case of Nikolaus
+Lenau; however, it also frequently resulted in an endlessly increased
+receptivity for every experience, as in the case of Bettina von Arnim,
+Heine, or Annette von Droste, and the most recent writers.
+
+The infinitely difficult task of the modern poet is made still harder
+by the fact that, in spite of all his efforts, he, happily, seldom
+succeeds in transforming himself into, one would like to say, an
+artistically working apparatus, such as Ibsen very nearly became; not,
+however, without deploring the fact at the close of his life. The
+German poet in particular has too strong a lyrical inheritance not to
+reëcho the impressions _directly_ received by his heart. The struggle
+between the demands of a purely artistic presentation of reality,
+i. e., one governed exclusively by esthetic rules, and its sympathetic
+rendering, constitutes the poetic tragedy of most of our "naturalistic
+writers," and especially of the most important one among them, Gerhart
+Hauptmann. But from this general ideal of the poet, who only through
+his own experience will give to reality a true existence and the
+possibility of permanence, there follows a straining after technical
+requirements such as was formerly almost unknown. This results in an
+effort in Germany all the more strenuous in proportion to the former
+slackness regarding questions of artistic form. The peculiarities of
+the different literary _genres_ are heeded with a severity such as has
+been practised before only in antiquity or perhaps by the French.
+Poets like Detlev von Liliencron, who formerly had appeared as
+advocates of poetical frivolity, now chafed over banal aids for
+rhyming, as once Alfred de Musset had done. Friedrich Spielhagen, the
+brothers Heinrich and Thomas Mann, and Jacob Wassermann are seen to
+busy themselves with the technical questions pertaining to the
+prose-epic, no longer in a merely esthetical and easy-going fashion,
+but as though they were working out questions vital to existence; and
+truly it is bitter earnest with them where their art is concerned.
+Often, as in painting, technique becomes the principal object, and the
+young naturalism of Arno Holz and Johannes Schlaf has in all
+seriousness raised technique to a dogma, without, however, in the long
+run being able to get the upper hand of the German need of
+establishing intimate relations with the subject of the art.
+
+We must, however, at this point again remind ourselves that the
+question is not one of abstract "poets" but one of a large number of
+living _men_ who, happily, differ widely from one another. Above all,
+when considering them we must think of the typical development of the
+generations. Those for whom patriotic interests, at least in a direct
+sense, seemed to have little meaning, were always followed by
+generations patriotically inspired. The Germany of to-day hides, under
+the self-deluding appearance of a confinement to purely esthetic
+problems, a predominating and lively joy in the growth of the
+Fatherland, and naturally also in its mental broadening. To have given
+the strongest expression to this joy constitutes the historical
+significance of Gustav Frenssen, just as solicitude for its future
+inspired the muse of Wilhelm von Polenz.
+
+The preference shown to individual literary _genres_ changes in an
+almost regular order of sequence--the Swiss Bovet has even tried
+recently to lay down a regular law of alternation. Especially is the
+theatre from time to time abused for being a destructive negation of
+art, in just as lively a fashion as it is declared at other times to
+be the sole realization of the artistic ideal. As to prevailing
+temperaments, a preferably pathetic tone--as, for example, in the
+epoch of Freytag, Geibel, Treitschke--alternates with a sceptically
+satiric one--as in Fontane who (like so many writers, in Germany
+especially) did not belong to his own generation nor even to the
+immediately succeeding one, but to the next after that! With these are
+associated preferences for verse or prose; for idealism or realism and
+naturalism; a falling away from philosophy or an inclination to
+introduce it into poetry; and numerous other disguises for those
+antagonistic principles, to which Kuno Francke in a general survey of
+our literature has sought to trace back its different phases.
+
+We have now said about all that, in our opinion, seems necessary for a
+general introduction to modern German literature. For the rest, it is
+of course quite obvious that it is German--and that it is a
+literature. That it is German, is precisely why it is not exclusively
+German: for in every epoch has it not been proclaimed in accents of
+praise or of blame, until we are almost tired of hearing it, that the
+inclination to take up and appropriate foreign possessions is peculiar
+to the German nation--and to the Germanic spirit in general? Thus we
+possess special presentations of German literature considered from the
+standpoint of its antique elements, and also from that of its
+Christian elements, and we could in the same way present theses which
+would show its development from the standpoint of the Romance or of
+the English influence. And yet latterly an exactly contrary attempt
+has been made--in a spirited, if somewhat arbitrary book by Nadler,
+which consists in trying to build up the history of German literature
+entirely upon the peculiarities of the different tribes and provinces.
+For the essence of the German, nay, even of the Swabian, or Bavarian,
+or North German, or Austrian individuality, is in the long run
+nourished rather than extinguished by all foreign influences. In spite
+of this, it is of course important in the consideration of the
+eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, to observe how the French pattern
+that is at first followed almost with the unquestioned obedience
+accorded to a fixed ethical model, is confronted by the English, which
+brings about the celebrated--and probably overrated--struggle between
+Gottsched and the Swiss School. We should also notice precisely how
+the tendency of British literature toward originality--in which the
+insular peculiarities were strongly emphasized--served to increase the
+self-reliance of German literature; how a new movement in the style of
+the antique was cultivated by the classical writers; and how the
+Romantic School favored medieval-Christian tendencies--much to
+Goethe's annoyance. It is of importance likewise to note the way in
+which Young Germany learned how to gain political-literary effects
+from the new French models; and finally, how the Northern realism of
+presentation, amalgamated with Tolstoy's, Björnson's, Strindberg's and
+also Ibsen's ethical subjectivity, educated the naturalism of the
+Germans. It is precisely those poets that are especially characterized
+by German peculiarities who have also trained themselves in the use of
+foreign subjects and forms: thus did Uhland, Mörike, Hebbel, and all
+the Romanticists. We have already had occasion many times to call
+attention in detail to the educational effect of foreign countries.
+
+German literature is, in short, one that possesses the typical moments
+of development which mark all literatures, and which Wilhelm Scherer
+was the first to call to our notice: that is to say, it is a
+complicated organism in which the most varied tendencies cross one
+another, the most dissimilar generations of writers meet together, and
+the most remarkable events occur in the most unforeseen manner.
+
+If we should now try to get a closer view of the last and by far the
+most important factor of literature, namely, the individual writers
+themselves, this difficulty in obtaining a general view of the whole,
+this working of the different parts against one another, this pulling
+away from one another, presents itself more clearly to us here than
+anywhere else. The attempt to classify the development of our
+literature into distinct groups according to the personalities which
+compose them has been frequently made, since I, in spite of all the
+difficulties and dangers of such a hazardous enterprise, first
+undertook, in my _German Literature of the Nineteenth Century_, to
+give an historical and complete presentation of a literature which had
+as yet scarcely become historic. I can here merely refer in passing to
+my own efforts and to those of Bartels, Biese, Riemann, and
+Soergel--to name only these; for in compliance with the purpose of
+this introduction we must confine ourselves to giving a general
+comprehensive outline--although it would be easy to improve upon it if
+one went more into detail.
+
+It seems to me under these conditions that the groundlines of the
+development of our literature from 1700-1900 would be best impressed
+upon us by comparing the order of its evolution with that of the most
+"normal" poetic genius who ever lived--namely, with that of Goethe;
+and thereby we should prove its development to be an essentially
+normal one.
+
+Like all "natural geniuses" Goethe begins as an imitator, dependent
+upon others; for the poet also must first learn to speak and to walk.
+The earliest literary effort of his which we possess is the poem _On
+Christ's Descent into Hell_, which naturally seemed strange enough to
+Goethe when this long forgotten first printed specimen of his literary
+productiveness was laid before him again after he had grown old. In
+this poem traditional phrases are repeated without the addition of
+anything new and original; conventional feelings are expressed, usual
+methods are employed; all this, however, not without a certain
+moderation of expression constituting a first sign of the otherwise
+still completely concealed poetic individuality.
+
+Such is the character that the world of virtuosos also bears about the
+year 1700. The poems of Rudolf von Canitz and Johann von Besser are,
+though in entirely different spheres, just the same kind of first
+attempts of an imperfect art anxiously following foreign models as
+Goethe's first Christian poem--though truly with the tremendous
+difference that they represented the utmost that Frenchified courtly
+art could ever attain to; while Goethe's poem, on the contrary, was
+the immature sprig cut away before its time from the stem of a tree
+soon to stand in the full glory of its bloom.
+
+When now in the Leipzig period the young student discovers the poet
+within him, he first does so in the customary way: he recognizes the
+ability on his part to handle the language of the contemporary poets,
+and also perhaps to imbue it with his own personal feelings. His poems
+inserted in letters, which make a show of the elegant pretence of
+improvisation, but in reality already display a great dexterity in
+rhyming and in the use of imagery, may be compared to Hagedorn's
+poetry; but at the same time Goethe is trying to attain the serious
+tone of the "Pindarian" odes, just as Haller's stilted scholarly
+poetry conquered a place beside Hagedorn's Epicurean philosophy of
+life. The _Book of Annette_ (1767) as a whole, however, presents the
+first attempt on the part of Goethe to reach a certain completeness in
+his treatment of the poetic theme. In all his subsequent collections
+of poems the same attempt is made, it is true with increasingly rigid
+interpretation of the idea of "completeness," and in so far one is
+reminded in this connection of the theoretic intentions and
+performances of Gottsched.
+
+The "New Songs" (_Neue Lieder_) of 1770 give a lop-sided exhibition of
+the style which Leipzig and the times acts. Two great acts follow: in
+1773 comes _Götz_; in 1774, _Werther_. And with _Götz_ the great
+"subjects of humanity" seize possession of Goethe's poetry, as they
+had taken possession of the poetry of Germany with Lessing--as shown
+by his whole work up to _Nathan_: for Lessing, the strongest adversary
+of mere "estheticism," really accomplished what those Anacreontic
+poets had merely wished to do--or seemed to wish--and brought
+literature into close touch with life. _The Sorrows of Werther_ lays
+hold of the subjective problems of the age just as the drama of
+liberty lays hold of the objective; in them a typical character of the
+times is analyzed not without zealously making use of models--both
+innovations of Wieland! But now indeed comes the most important of
+all, that which in its greatness represents something completely new,
+although in detail Goethe had here all his teachers to teach
+him--Lessing who had written _Faust_-scenes, and Wieland who was so
+fond of placing the two souls of man side by side, and Herder who had
+an absolutely Faust-like nature; so that people have tried, with the
+exaggeration of the theorist, to hold up before us the whole _Faust_
+as a kind of dramatized portrayal of Herder! And with _Faust_ Goethe
+in German literature has reached his own time--"For his century bears
+his name!"
+
+But in the period which followed the predominating position of the
+classical writers we once more find the same parallelism of
+development. Again with Goethe's dilettante beginnings we compare a
+school of weak imitators, which unhappily was protected by Goethe
+himself (and also by Schiller in his literary organs); again with the
+Strassburg period and its Storm and Stress we compare Romanticism,
+which is characterized by its German nationalism and its antique
+tendencies, which is sentimental and philosophical, critical and
+programmatical like the time of _Götz_, which latter surely must have
+had a strong effect on men like Tieck and Arnim. And out of the
+sentiment for his country, which, in Goethe's whole literary career,
+is peculiar only to the poetry of the Strassburg period, tendencies
+develop like those which manifest themselves in the literature of the
+Wars of Liberation, of the Swabian School, in the older poetry of
+political conflict--in short, like all those tendencies which we
+connect with Ludwig Uhland's name.
+
+Goethe's literary satires and poems for special occasions are a
+prelude to the purely literary existence and the belligerent spirit of
+men like Platen and Immermann, who both, as it were by accident, found
+their way into the open of national poesy. The self-absorption in
+_Werther_, the delving after new poetical experiences and mediums of
+expression; the method of expression hovering between form and
+illusory improvisation--all this we find again in the strongest
+individualists, in Heine, in Annette von Droste, in Lenau. The Weimar
+period, however, when the poet by means of a great and severe
+self-discipline trains himself to the point of rigidity in order to
+become the instrument of his art--that period is, with _Tasso_, paving
+the way for the school of Grillparzer, while that infinite deepening
+of the poetic calling is a preparation for Otto Ludwig, Richard
+Wagner, and Friedrich Hebbel. The contemporary novel in the style of
+_Wilhelm Meister_ is revived by the Young Germans, above all by
+Gutzkow, in the same way that tendencies found in _Nathan_ and in
+_Götz_ are brought out again in Gutzkow's and in Heinrich Laube's
+dramas, so rich in allusions. The national spirit of which _Egmont_ is
+full also fills the novels of Willibald Alexis and Berthold Auerbach.
+Finally those works, besides _Tasso_, which we are wont to consider
+the crowning achievements of the Weimar period, above all,
+_Iphigenia_, have permanently served as models of the new, and in
+their way classical, "antiques"--for the Munich School, for the
+Geibels and the Heyses. But we must also remember Mörike and Stifter,
+and their absorption in the fullness of the inner life, which none of
+them could attain to without somewhat stunting the growth of life's
+realities--Hebbel perceived this clearly enough not only in Stifter
+but in Goethe himself. Above all, however, this whole epoch of the
+"intellectual poets" may, in a certain sense, be called the _Italian
+Journey_ of German literature. Like Goethe in the years 1787-1788, the
+German muse in this period only feels entirely at home in Italy, or at
+least in the South; in her own country she feels misnamed.
+
+Now let us consider Goethe after he had settled down in Weimar for the
+second time. Scientific work seems for a while to have entirely
+replaced poetic activity, as for a moment the scientific prose of
+Ranke and Helmholtz came near to being of more consequence for the
+German language than most of what was produced at the same time by
+so-called poetry. Then the _Campaign in Champagne_ (1792), and the new
+employment of his time with political problems, constitutes for Goethe
+a temporary phase that may be compared with that recapturing of
+history by political-historical writers like Freytag and Treitschke,
+in the same way that _Hermann and Dorothea_ (1796), in which an old
+historical anecdote of the time of the expulsion of the Protestants
+from Salzburg is transplanted to the time of the French Revolution,
+may be compared with the historical "Novellen" of Riehl, Scheffel, and
+C.F. Meyer. Goethe's ballads (1797-1798) maintain the tradition that
+was to be given new life by Fontane, Strachwitz, and C.F. Meyer.
+Goethe's later novels with their didactic tendencies, and the
+inclination to interpolate "Novellen" and diaries, lead up to
+Gottfried Keller, Wilhelm Raabe and again to Fontane. The table-songs
+and other convivial poetry of Goethe's old age are taken up again by
+Scheffel; Goethe's "Novellen" themselves were continued by all those
+eminent writers whom we have already named. The _Divan_, with its bent
+toward immutable relations, prepares the way for the new lyric, until
+finally, with the second part of _Faust_, mythical world-poetry and
+symbolism complete the circle, just as the cycle of German literature
+finishes with Nietzsche, Stefan George, Spitteler and Hofmannsthal. At
+the same time new forces are starting to form the new cycle, or, to
+speak like Goethe, the newest spiral: Hauptmann, Frenssen, Ricarda
+Huch, Enrica von Handel, to name only these. And how many others have
+we not previously left unnamed!
+
+But all this has not been merely to exercise our ingenuity. By drawing
+this parallel, which is naturally only to be taken approximately, we
+have intended to make clear the comforting probability that, in spite
+of all the exaggerating, narrowing down, and forcing to which it has
+been obliged to submit, our modern and most recent German literature
+is essentially a healthy literature. That, in spite of all deviation
+caused by influential theorists--of the Storm and Stress, of the
+Romantic School, of the period of Goethe's old age, of the epigonean
+or naturalistic criticism, or by the dazzling phenomena of foreign
+countries,--nevertheless in the essentials it obeys its own inner
+laws. That in spite of all which in the present stage of our
+literature may create a painful or confusing impression, _we have no
+cause to doubt that a new and powerful upward development will take
+place, and no cause either to underrate the literature of our own
+day_! It is richer in great, and what is perhaps more important, in
+serious talents than any other contemporary literature. No other can
+show such wealth of material, no other such abundance of interesting
+and, in part, entirely new productions. We do not say this in order to
+disparage others who in some ways were, only a short time ago, so far
+superior to us--as were the French in surety of form, the
+Scandinavians in greatness of talents, the Russians in originality,
+the English in cultivation of the general public; but we are inspired
+to utter it by the hopeful joy which every one must feel who, in the
+contemplation of our modern lyric poetry, our novels, dramas, epic and
+didactic poetry, does not allow himself to be blinded by prejudice or
+offended vanity. A great literature such as we possessed about 1800 we
+of a certainty do not have to-day. A more hopeful chaos or one more
+rich in fertile seeds we have not possessed since the days of
+Romanticism. It is surely worth while to study this literature, and in
+all its twists and turns to admire the heliotropism of the German
+ideal and the importance which our German literature has won as a
+mediator, an experimenter, and a model for that world-literature, the
+outline of which the prophetic eye of the greatest German poet was the
+first to discern, and his hand, equally expert in scientific and
+poetic creation, the first to describe.
+
+
+
+THE LIFE OF GOETHE
+
+BY CALVIN THOMAS, LL.D.
+
+Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Columbia University
+
+Goethe, the illustrious poet-sage whom Matthew Arnold called the
+"clearest, largest, and most helpful thinker of modern times," was
+born August 28, 1749, at Frankfurt on the Main.[2] He was christened
+Johann Wolfgang. In his early years his familiar name was Wolfgang, or
+simply Wolf, never Johann. His family was of the middle class, the
+aristocratic _von_ which sometimes appears in his name, in accordance
+with German custom, having come to him with a patent of nobility which
+he received in the year 1782.
+
+Johann Caspar Goethe, the poet's father, was the son of a prosperous
+tailor, who was also a tailor's son. Having abundant means and being
+of an ambitious turn, Johann Caspar prepared himself for the
+profession of law, spent some time in Italy, and then settled in
+Frankfurt in the hope of rising to distinction in the public service.
+Disappointed in this hope, he procured the imperial title of
+Councilor, which gave him a dignified social status but nothing in
+particular to do. He thus became virtually a gentleman of leisure,
+since his law practise was quite insignificant. In 1748 he married
+Katharina Elisabeth Textor, whose father, Johann Wolfgang Textor, was
+the town's chief magistrate and most eminent citizen. She was eighteen
+years old at the time of her marriage--twenty years younger than her
+husband--and well fitted to become a poet's mother. The gift on which
+she especially prided herself was her story-telling. Wolfgang was the
+first child of these parents.
+
+The paternal strain in Goethe's blood made for level-headedness,
+precise and methodical ways, a serious view of life, and a desire to
+make the most of it. By his mother he was a poet who liked nothing
+else so well as to invent dream-worlds and commune with the spirits of
+his imagination. He also ascribes to his mother his _Frohnatur_, his
+joyous nature. And certain it is that his temperament was on the whole
+sunny. As he grew to manhood men and women alike were charmed by him.
+He became a virtuoso in love and had a genius for friendship. But he
+was not always cheerful. In his youth, particularly, he was often
+moody and given to brooding over indefinable woes. He suffered acutely
+at times from what is now called the melancholia of adolescence. This
+was a phase of that emotional sensitiveness and nervous instability
+which are nearly always a part of the poet's dower.
+
+Wolfgang grew up in a wholesome atmosphere of comfort and refinement.
+He never knew the tonic bitterness of poverty. On the other hand, he
+was never spoiled by his advantages; to his dying day he disliked
+luxury. At home under private tutors the boy studied Latin, French,
+and English, and picked up a little Italian by overhearing his
+sister's lessons. In 1758 Frankfurt was occupied by a French army, and
+a French playhouse was set going for the diversion of the officers. In
+the interest of his French Wolfgang was allowed to go to the theatre,
+and he made such rapid progress that he was soon studying the dramatic
+unities as expounded by Corneille and actually trying to write a
+French play. Withal he was left much to himself, so that he had time
+to explore Frankfurt to his heart's content.
+
+[Illustration: JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE _From the painting by C.
+ Jäger_]
+
+He was much in contact with people of the humbler sort and learned to
+like their racy dialect. He penetrated into the ghetto and learned the
+jargon of the Jews. He even attacked biblical Hebrew, being led
+thereto by his great love of the Old Testament.
+
+It was his boyish ambition to become a great poet. His favorite
+amusement was a puppet-show, for which he invented elaborate plays.
+From his tenth year on he wrote a great deal of verse, early acquiring
+technical facility and local renown and coming to regard himself as a
+"thunderer." He attempted a polyglot novel, also a biblical tale on
+the subject of Joseph, which he destroyed on observing that the hero
+did nothing but pray and weep. When he was ready for the university he
+wished to go to Göttingen to study the old humanities, but his father
+was bent on making a lawyer of him. So it came about that some ten
+years of his early life were devoted, first as a student and then as a
+practitioner, to a reluctant and half-hearted grapple with the
+intricacies of Holy Roman law.
+
+At the age of sixteen Goethe entered the University of Leipzig, where
+he remained about three years. The law lectures bored him and he soon
+ceased to attend them. The other studies that he took up, especially
+logic and philosophy, seemed to him arid and unprofitable--mere
+conventional verbiage without any bed-rock of real knowledge. So he
+presently fell into that mood of disgust with academic learning which
+was afterwards to form the keynote of _Faust_. Outside the university
+he found congenial work in Oeser's drawing-school. Oeser was an artist
+of no great power with the brush, but a genial man, a friend of
+Winckelmann, and an enthusiast for Greek art. Goethe learned to admire
+and love him, and from this time on, for some twenty years, his
+constant need of artistic expression found hardly less satisfaction in
+drawing from nature than in poetry.
+
+His poetic ambition received little encouragement in university
+circles. Those to whom he read his ambitious verses made light of
+them. The venerated Gellert, himself a poet of repute, advised the lad
+to cultivate a good prose style and look to his handwriting. No wonder
+that he despaired of his talent, concluded that he could never be a
+poet, and burnt his effusions. A maddening love-affair with his
+landlady's daughter, Anna Katharina Schönkopf, revived the dying lyric
+flame, and he began to write verses in the gallant erotic vein then
+and there fashionable--verses that tell of love-lorn shepherds and
+shepherdesses, give sage advice to girls about keeping their
+innocence, and moralize on the ways of this wicked world. They show no
+signs of lyric genius. His short-lived passion for Annette, as he
+called her, whom he tormented with his jealousy until she lost
+patience and broke off the intimacy, was also responsible for his
+first play, _Die Laune des Verliebten_, or _The Lover's Wayward
+Humor_. It is a pretty one-act pastoral in alexandrine verse, the
+theme being the punishment of an over-jealous lover. What is mainly
+significant in these Leipzig poetizings is the fact that they grew out
+of genuine experience. Goethe had resolved to drop his ambitious
+projects, such as _Belshazzar_, and coin his own real thoughts and
+feelings into verse. Thus early he was led into the way of poetic
+"confession."
+
+In the summer of 1768 he was suddenly prostrated by a grave
+illness--an internal hemorrhage which was at first thought to portend
+consumption. Pale and languid he returned to his father's house, and
+for several months it was uncertain whether he was to live or die.
+During this period of seclusion he became deeply interested in magic,
+alchemy, astrology, cabalism, and all that sort of thing. He even set
+up a kind of alchemist's laboratory to search experimentally for the
+panacea. Out of these abstruse studies grew Faust's wonderful dream of
+an ecstatic spirit-life to be attained by natural magic. Of course the
+menace of impending death drew his thoughts in the direction of
+religion. Among the intimate friends of the family was the devout
+Susanna von Klettenberg, one of the leading spirits in a local
+conventicle of the Moravian Brethren. This lady--afterwards
+immortalized as the "beautiful soul" of _Wilhelm Meister_--tried to
+have the sick youth make his peace with God in her way, that is, by
+accepting Christ as an ever-present personal saviour. While he never
+would admit a conviction of sin he envied the calm of the saintly
+maiden and was so far converted that he attended the meetings of the
+Brethren, took part in their communion service, and for a while spoke
+the language of a devout pietist.
+
+This religious experience of his youth bit deep into Goethe's
+character. He soon drifted away from the pietists and their ways, he
+came to have a poor opinion of priests and priestcraft, and in time
+men called him a heathen. Nevertheless his nature had been so deeply
+stirred in his youth by religion's mystic appeal that he never
+afterwards lost his reverence for genuine religious feeling. To the
+end of his days the aspiration of the human soul for communion with
+God found in him a delicate and sympathetic interpreter.
+
+During his convalescence Goethe retouched a score of his Leipzig songs
+and published them anonymously, with music by his friend Breitkopf,
+under the title of _New Songs_. He regarded them at the time as
+trifles that had come into being without art or effort. "Young, in
+love, and full of feeling," he had sung them so, while "playing the
+old game of youth." To-day they seem to convey little forewarning of
+the matchless lyric gift that was soon to awaken, being a shade too
+intellectual and sententious. One hears more of the critic's comment
+than of the poet's cry. It was at this time also that he rewrote an
+earlier Leipzig play, expanding it from one act to three and giving it
+the title _Die Mitschuldigen_, or _The Fellow-culprits_. It is a sort
+of rogue's comedy in middle-class life, written in the alexandrine
+verse, which was soon to be discarded along with other French
+fashions. We have a quartet consisting of an inquisitive inn-keeper,
+his mismated sentimental daughter, her worthless husband, and her
+former lover. They tangle themselves up in a series of low intrigues
+and are finally unmasked as one and all poor miserable sinners.
+Technically it is a good play--lively, diverting, well put together.
+But one can not call it very edifying.
+
+In the spring of 1770 Goethe entered the University of Strassburg,
+which was at that time in French territory. It was a part of his
+general purpose to better his French, but the actual effect of his
+sojourn in Alsatia was to put him out of humor with all French
+standards, especially with the classic French drama, and to excite in
+him a fervid enthusiasm for the things of the fatherland. This was due
+partly to the influence of Herder, with whom he now came into close
+personal relations. From Herder, who was six years his senior and
+already known by his _Fragments_ and _Critical Forests_ as a trenchant
+and original critic, he heard the gospel of a literary revolution.
+Rules and conventions were to be thrown overboard; the new watchwords
+were nature, power, originality, genius, fulness of expression. He
+conceived a boundless admiration for Homer, Ossian, and Shakespeare,
+in each of whom he saw the mirror of an epoch and a national life. He
+became an enthusiastic collector of Alsatian folksongs and was
+fascinated by the Strassburg minster--at a time when "Gothic" was
+generally regarded as a synonym of barbarous. Withal his gift for
+song-making came to a new stage of perfection under the inspiration of
+his love for the village maid Friederike Brion. From this time forth
+he was the prince of German lyrists.
+
+In the summer of 1771 he returned to Frankfurt once more, this time
+with the title of licentiate in law, and began to practise in a
+perfunctory way, with his heart in his literary projects. By the end
+of the year he had written out the first draft of a play which he
+afterwards revised and published anonymously (in 1773) under the title
+of _Götz von Berlichingen_. By its exuberant fulness of life, its
+bluff German heartiness, and the freshness and variety of its scenes,
+it took the public by storm, notwithstanding its disregard of the
+approved rules of play-writing.
+
+[Illustration: JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE _From the Painting by J.
+ Stieler_]
+
+The next year he published _The Sufferings of Young Werther_, a tragic
+tale of a weak-willed sentimental youth of hyperesthetic tendencies,
+who commits suicide because of disappointment in love. The story was
+the greatest literary triumph that Germany had ever known, and in
+point of sheer artistic power it remains to this day the best of
+novels in the tragic-sentimental vein. These two works carried the
+name of Goethe far and wide and made him the accepted leader of the
+literary revolution which long afterwards came to be known, from the
+title of a play by Klinger, as the Storm and Stress.
+
+The years 1773-1775 were for Goethe a time of high emotional tension,
+from which he sought relief in rapid, desultory, and multifarious
+writing. Exquisite songs, musical comedies of a sentimental tinge,
+humorous and satiric skits in dramatic form, prose tragedy of
+passionate error, and poetic tragedy of titanic revolt--all these and
+more welled up from a sub-conscious spring of feeling, taking little
+counsel of the sober intellect. Several minor productions were left
+unfinished and were afterwards published in fragmentary form. Such is
+the case with _Prometheus_, a splendid fragment, in which we get a
+glimpse of the Titan battling, as the friend of man, against the
+ever-living gods. Of the works completed and published at this time,
+aside from _Götz_ and _Werther_, the most notable were _Clavigo_ and
+_Stella_, prose tragedies in which a fickle lover meets with condign
+punishment. Another prose tragedy, _Egmont_, with its hero conceived
+as a "demonic" nature borne on to his doom by his own buoyancy of
+spirit, was nearly finished. Most important of all, a considerable
+portion of _Faust_, which was to be its author's great life-work, was
+"stormed out" during these early years at Frankfurt.
+
+The legendary Faust is presented as a bad man who sells his soul to
+the devil for twenty-four years of power and pleasure, gets what he
+bargained for, and in the end goes to perdition. Young Goethe
+conceived his hero differently: not as a bad man on the way to hell,
+and not--at first--as a good man on the way to heaven. He thought of
+him rather as a towering personality passionately athirst for
+transcendental knowledge and universal experience; as a man whose
+nature contained the very largest possibilities both for good and for
+evil. It is probable that, when he began to write, Goethe did not
+intend to anticipate the judgment of God upon Faust's career. The
+essence of his dramatic plan was to carry his hero through a lifetime
+of varied experience, letting him sin and suffer grandly, and at last
+to give him something to do which would seem worth having lived for.
+After the going down of the curtain, in all probability, he was to be
+left in the hands of the Eternal Pardoner. Later in life, as we shall
+see, Goethe decided not only to save his hero, but to make his
+salvation a part of the dramatic action.
+
+The close of the year 1775 brought a momentous change in Goethe's life
+and prospects. On the invitation of the young duke Karl August, who
+had met him and taken a liking to him, he went to visit the Weimar
+court, not expecting to stay more than a few weeks. But the duke was
+so pleased with his gifted and now famous guest that he presently
+decided to keep him in Weimar, if possible, by making him a member of
+the Council of State. Goethe was the more willing to remain, since he
+detested his law practise, and his income from authorship was
+pitifully small. Moreover, he saw in the boyish, impulsive,
+sport-loving prince a sterling nature that might be led in the ways of
+wise rulership. For the nonce this was mission enough. He took his
+seat in the Council in June, 1776, with the title of Councilor of
+Legation. At first there was not very much for him to do except to
+familiarize himself with the physical and economic conditions of the
+little duchy. This he did with a will. He set about studying
+mineralogy, geology, botany, and was soon observing the homologies of
+the vertebrate skeleton. Withal he was very attentive to
+routine business.
+
+[Illustration: 1. GOETHE'S GARDEN HOUSE IN WEIMAR]
+
+[Illustration: 2. GOETHE'S HOUSE IN WEIMAR]
+
+One after another important departments of administration were turned
+over to him, until he became, in 1782, the President of the Chambers
+and hence the leading statesman of the duchy.
+
+All this produced a sobering and clarifying effect. The inner storm
+and stress gradually subsided, and the new Goethe--statesman,
+scientific investigator, man of the world, courtier, friend of
+princes--came to see that after all feeling was not everything, and
+that its untrammeled expression was not the whole of art. Form and
+decorum counted for more than he had supposed, and revolution was not
+the word of wisdom. Self-control was the only basis of character, and
+limitation lay at the foundation of all art. To work to make things
+better, even in a humble sphere, was better than to fret over the
+badness of the world. Nature's method was that of bit-by-bit progress,
+and to puzzle out her ways was a noble and fascinating employment. In
+this general way of thinking he was confirmed by the study of
+Spinoza's _Ethics_, a book which, as he said long afterwards, quieted
+his passions and gave him a large and free outlook over the world. In
+this process of quieting the passions some influence must be ascribed
+to Charlotte von Stein, a woman in whom, for some twelve years of his
+life, he found his muse and his madonna. His letters often address her
+in terms of idolatrous endearment. She was a wife and a mother, but
+Weimar society regarded her relation to Goethe as a platonic
+attachment not to be condemned.
+
+The artistic expression of the new life in Weimar is found in various
+short poems, notably _Wanderer's Nightsong_, _Ilmenau_, _The Divine_,
+and _The Mysteries_; also in a number of plays which were written for
+the amateur stage of the court circle. The Weimarians were very fond
+of play-acting, and Goethe became their purveyor of dramatic supplies.
+It was to meet this demand that he wrote _Brother and Sister (Die
+Geschwister), The Triumph of Sentimentalism, The Fisher-maid, The
+Birds_, and other pieces. Much more important than any of these
+bagatelles, which were often hastily composed for a birthday
+celebration or some other festive occasion, are the two fine poetic
+dramas, _Iphigenie_ and _Tasso_. The former was first written rather
+rapidly in stately rhythmic prose and played by the amateurs, with
+Goethe himself in the rôle of Orestes, in the spring of 1779. Eight
+years later, the author being then in Italy, it was recast with great
+care in mellifluous blank verse. _Iphigenie_ is essentially a drama of
+the soul, there being little in it of what is commonly called action.
+A youth who is the prey of morbid illusions, so that his life has
+become a burden, is cured by finding a noble-minded sister, whose
+whole being radiates peace and self-possession. The entire power of
+Goethe's chastened art is here lavished on the figure of his heroine
+who, by her goodness, her candor, her sweet reasonableness, not only
+heals her soul-sick brother, but so works on the barbarian king Thoas,
+who would fain have her for his wife, that he wins a notable victory
+over himself.
+
+By the end of his first decade in Weimar Goethe began to feel that he
+needed and had earned a vacation. His conduct of the public business
+had been highly successful, but he had starved his esthetic nature;
+for after all Weimar was only a good-sized village that could offer
+little to the lover of art. Overwork had so told upon him that he was
+unable to hold himself long to any literary project. He had begun half
+a dozen important works, but had completed none of them, and the
+public was beginning to suspect that the author of _Götz_ and
+_Werther_ was lost to literature. The effect of the whole
+situation--that inner conflict between the poetic dreamer and the man
+of affairs which is the theme of _Tasso_--was to produce a feeling of
+depression, as of a bird caught in a net. So acute did the trouble
+become that he afterwards spoke of it as a terrible disease. In the
+summer of 1786 he contracted with the Leipzig publisher Göschen for a
+new edition of his works in eight volumes; and to gain time for this
+enterprise he resolved to take a trip to the land upon which he had
+already twice looked down with longing--once in 1775 and again in
+1779--from the summit of the Gotthard.
+
+[Illustration: GOETHE IN THE CAMPAGNA]
+
+On the 3d of September, at three o'clock in the morning, he stole away
+from Karlsbad, where he had been taking the waters, and hurried
+southward, alone and incognito, over the Alps.
+
+In Italy, where he remained nearly two years, Goethe's mind and art
+underwent another notable change. He himself called it a spiritual
+rebirth. Freed from all oppressive engagements, he gave himself to the
+study of ancient sculpture and architecture, reveled in the splendors
+of Renaissance painting, and pursued his botanical studies in the
+enticing plant-world of the Italian gardens. Venice, Naples, Vesuvius,
+Sicily, the sea, fascinated him in their several ways and gave him the
+sense of being richer for the rest of his life. Sharing in the
+care-free existence of the German artist-colony in Rome made him very
+happy. It not only disciplined his judgment in matters of art and
+opened a vast new world of ideas and impressions, but it restored the
+lost balance between the intellectual and duty-bound man on the one
+hand and the esthetic and sensual man on the other. He resolved never
+again to put on the harness of an administrative drudge, but to claim
+the freedom of a poet, an artist, a man of science. To this desire the
+Duke of Weimar generously assented.
+
+On his return to Weimar, in June, 1788, Goethe made it his first task
+to finish the remaining works that were called for by his contract
+with Göschen. _Egmont_ and _Tasso_ were soon disposed of, but _Faust_
+proved intractable. While in Rome he had taken out the old manuscript
+and written a scene or two, and had then somehow lost touch with the
+subject. So he decided to revise what he had on hand and to publish a
+part of the scenes as a fragment. This fragmentary _Faust_ came out in
+1790. It attracted little attention, nor was any other of the new
+works received with much warmth by the public of that day. They
+expected something like _Götz_ and _Werther_, and did not understand
+the new Goethe, who showed in many ways that his heart was still in
+Italy and that he found Weimar a little dull and provincial. Thus the
+greatest of German poets had for the time being lost touch with the
+German public; he saw that he must wait for the growth of the taste by
+which he was to be understood and enjoyed. Matters were hardly made
+better by his taking Christiane Vulpius into his house as his unwedded
+wife. This step, which shocked Weimar society--except the duke and
+Herder--had the effect of ending his unwholesome relation to Frau von
+Stein, who was getting old and peevish. The character of Christiane
+has often been pictured too harshly. She was certainly not her
+husband's intellectual peer--he would have looked long for a wife of
+that grade--and she became a little too fond of wine. On the other
+hand, she was affectionate, devoted, true, and by no means lacking in
+mental gifts. She and Goethe were happy together and faithful to
+each other.
+
+For several years after his return from Italy Goethe wrote nothing
+that is of much importance in the history of his literary life. He
+devoted himself largely to scientific studies in plant and animal
+morphology and the theory of color. His discovery of the
+intermaxillary bone in the human skull, and his theory that the
+lateral organs of a plant are but successive phases of the leaf, have
+given him an assured if modest place in the history of the development
+hypothesis. On the other hand, his long and laborious effort to refute
+Newton's theory of the composition of white light is now generally
+regarded as a misdirection of energy. In his _Roman Elegies_ (1790) he
+struck a note of pagan sensuality. The pensive distichs, telling of
+the wanton doings of Amor amid the grandeur that was Rome, were a
+little shocking in their frank portraiture of the emancipated flesh.
+The outbreak of violence in France seemed to him nothing but madness
+and folly, since he did not see the real Revolution, but only the
+Paris Terror.
+
+He wrote two or three very ordinary plays to satirize various phases
+of the revolutionary excitement--phases that now seem as insignificant
+as the plays themselves. In 1792 he accompanied the Duke of Weimar on
+the inglorious Austro-Prussian invasion of France, heard the cannonade
+at Valmy, and was an interested observer as the allies tumbled back
+over the Rhine. Perhaps the best literary achievement of these years
+is the fine hexameter version of the medieval _Reynard the Fox_.
+
+The year 1794 marks the beginning of more intimate relations between
+Goethe and Schiller. Their memorable friendship lasted until
+Schiller's death, in 1805--the richest decade in the whole history of
+German letters. The two men became in a sense allies and stood
+together in the championship of good taste and humane idealism.
+Goethe's literary occupations during this period were very
+multifarious; a list of his writings in the various fields of poetry,
+drama, prose fiction, criticism, biography, art and art-history,
+literary scholarship, and half a dozen sciences, would show a
+many-sidedness to which there is no modern parallel. Of all this mass
+of writing only a few works of major importance can even be
+mentioned here.
+
+In 1796 appeared _Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship_, a novel which
+captivated the literary class, if not the general public, and was
+destined to exert great influence on German fiction for a generation
+to come. It had been some twenty years in the making. In its earlier
+form it was called _Wilhelm Meister's Theatrical Mission_.[3] This
+tells the story of a Werther-like youth who is to be saved from
+Werther's fate by finding a work to do. His "mission," apparently, is
+to become a good actor and to promote high ideals of the histrionic
+art. Incidentally he is ambitious to be a dramatic poet, and his
+childhood is simply that of Wolfgang Goethe. For reasons intimately
+connected with his own development Goethe finally decided to change
+his plan and his title, and to present Wilhelm's variegated
+experiences as an apprenticeship in the school of life. In the final
+version Wilhelm comes to the conclusion that the theatre is _not_ his
+mission--all that was a mistaken ambition. Just what use he _will_
+make of his well-disciplined energy does not clearly appear at the end
+of the story, since Goethe bundles him off to Italy. He was already
+planning a continuation of the story under the title of _Wilhelm
+Meister's Journeymanship_. In this second part the hero becomes
+interested in questions of social uplift and thinks of becoming a
+surgeon. Taken as a whole _Wilhelm Meister_ moves with a slowness
+which is quite out of tune with later ideals of prose fiction. It also
+lacks concentration and artistic finality. But it is replete with
+Goethe's ripe and mellow wisdom, and it contains more of his intimate
+self than any other work of his except _Faust_.
+
+During this high noon of his life Goethe again took up his long
+neglected _Faust_, decided to make two parts of it, completed the
+First Part, and thought out much that was to go into the Second Part.
+By this time he had become somewhat alienated from the spirit of his
+youth, when he had envisaged life in a mist of vague and stormy
+emotionalism. His present passion was for clearness. So he boldly
+decided to convert the old tragedy of sin and suffering into a drama
+of mental clearing-up. The early Faust--the pessimist, murderer,
+seducer--was to be presented as temporarily wandering in the dark; as
+a man who had gone grievously wrong in passionate error, but was
+essentially "good" by virtue of his aspiring nature, and hence, in the
+Lord's fulness of time, was to be led out into the light and saved.
+The First Part, ending with the heart-rending death of Margaret in her
+prison-cell, and leaving Faust in an agony of remorse, was published
+in 1808. Faust's redemption, by enlarged experience of life and
+especially by his symbolic union with the Greek Queen of Beauty, was
+reserved for the Second Part.
+
+[Illustration: MONUMENT TO GOETHE (Berlin 1880) Sculptor, Fritz
+ Schaper]
+
+The other more notable works of this period are _Hermann and
+Dorothea_, a delightful poem in dactylic hexameters, picturing a bit
+of German still life against the sinister background of the French
+Revolution, and the _Natural Daughter_, which was planned to body
+forth, in the form of a dramatic trilogy in blank verse, certain
+phases of Goethe's thinking about the upheaval in France. In the
+former he appears once more as a poet of the plain people, with an eye
+and a heart for their ways and their outlook upon life. Everybody
+likes _Hermann and Dorothea_. On the other hand, the _Natural
+Daughter_ is disappointing, and not merely because it is a fragment.
+(Only the first part of the intended trilogy was written.) Goethe had
+now convinced himself that the function of art is to present the
+typical. Accordingly the characters appear as types of humanity
+divested of all that is accidental or peculiar to the individual. The
+most of them have not even a name. The consequence is that,
+notwithstanding the splendid verse and the abounding wisdom of the
+speeches, the personages do not seem to be made of genuine human
+stuff. As a great thinker's comment on the Revolution the _Natural
+Daughter_ is almost negligible.
+
+The decade that followed the death of Schiller was for Germany a time
+of terrible trial, during which Goethe pursued the even tenor of his
+way as a poet and man of science. He had little sympathy with the
+national uprising against Napoleon, whom he looked on as the
+invincible subduer of the hated Revolution. From the point of view of
+our modern nationalism, which was just then entering on its
+world-transforming career, his conduct was unpatriotic. But let him at
+least be rightly understood. It was not that he lacked sympathy for
+the German people, but he misjudged and underestimated the new forces
+that were coming into play. As the son of an earlier age he could only
+conceive a people's welfare as the gift of a wise ruler. He thought of
+politics as the affair of the great. He hated war and all eruptive
+violence, being convinced that good would come, not by such means, but
+by enlightenment, self-control and attending to one's work in one's
+sphere. To the historian Luden he said in 1813:
+
+"Do not believe that I am indifferent to the great ideas of freedom,
+people, fatherland. No! These ideas are in us, they are a part of our
+being, and no one can cast them from him. I too have a warm heart for
+Germany. I have often felt bitter pain in thinking of the German
+people, so worthy of respect in some ways, so miserable on the whole.
+A comparison of the German people with other peoples arouses painful
+emotions which I try in every way to surmount; and in science and art
+I have found the wings whereby I rise above them. But the comfort
+which these afford is after all a poor comfort that does not
+compensate for the proud consciousness of belonging to a great and
+strong people that is honored and feared."
+
+In 1808 he published _The Elective Affinities_, a novel in which the
+tragic effects of lawless passion invading the marriage relation were
+set forth with telling art. Soon after this he began to write a memoir
+of his life. He was now a European celebrity, the dream of his youth
+had come true, and he purposed to show in detail how everything had
+happened; that is, how his literary personality had evolved amid the
+environing conditions. He conceived himself as a phenomenon to be
+explained. That he called his memoir _Poetry and Truth_ was perhaps an
+error of judgment, since the title has been widely misunderstood. For
+Goethe poetry was not the antithesis of truth, but a higher species of
+truth--the actuality as seen by the selecting, combining, and
+harmonizing imagination. In themselves, he would have said, the facts
+of a man's life are meaningless, chaotic, discordant: it is the poet's
+office to put them into the crucible of his spirit and give them forth
+as a significant and harmonious whole. The "poetry" of Goethe's
+autobiography--by far the best of autobiographies in the German
+language--must not be taken to imply concealment, perversion,
+substitution, or anything of that gross kind.
+
+[Illustration: GOETHE'S MONUMENT IN ROME. (SCULPTOR, EBERLEIN)
+ Presented to the City of Rome by the German Emperor (From Seidel's
+ _Der Kaiser and die Kunst_)]
+
+It lies in the very style of the book and is a part of its author's
+method of self-revelation. That he devotes so much space to the
+seemingly transient and unimportant love-affairs of his youth is only
+his way of recognizing that the poet-soul is born of love and
+nourished by love. He felt that these fleeting amorosities were a part
+of the natural history of his inner being.
+
+And even in the serene afternoon of his life lovely woman often
+disturbed his soul, just as in the days of his youth. But the poetic
+expression of his feeling gradually became less simple and direct: he
+liked to embroider it with musing reflections and exotic fancies
+gathered from everywhere. Just as he endeavored with indefatigable
+eagerness of mind to keep abreast of scientific research, so he tried
+to assimilate the poetry of all nations. The Greeks and Romans no
+longer sufficed his omnivorous appetite and his "panoramic ability."
+When Hammer-Purgstall's German version of the _D[=i]w[=a]n_ of
+H[=a]f[=i]z came into his hands he at once set about making himself at
+home in the mental world of the Persian and Arabic poets. Thus arose
+his _Divan_ (1819), in which he imitated the oriental costume, but not
+the form. His aim was to reproduce in German verse the peculiar savor
+of the Orientals, with their unique blend of sensuality, wit, and
+mystic philosophy. But the feeling--the inner experience--was all his
+own. The best book of the _Divan_, the one called _Suleika_, was
+inspired by a very real liking for Marianne Willemer, a talented lady
+who played the love-game with him and actually wrote some of the poems
+long ascribed to Goethe himself.
+
+At last, in 1824, when he was seventy-five years old, he came back
+once more to his _Faust_, the completion of which had long floated
+before his mind as a duty that he owed to himself and to the world.
+There was no longer any doubt as to what his great life-work was to
+be. With admirable energy and with perfect clarity of vision he
+addressed himself to the gigantic task, the general plan of which and
+many of the details had been thought out long before. It was finished
+in the summer of 1831. About sixty years after he had penned the first
+words of Faust, the disgruntled pessimist at war with life, he took
+leave of him as a purified soul mounting upward among the saints
+toward the Ineffable Light, under the mystic guidance of the
+Eternal-Womanly.
+
+Goethe died March 18, 1832. The story that his last words were "more
+light" is probably nothing more than a happy invention.
+
+Admirers of the great German see more in him than the author of the
+various works which have been all too briefly characterized in the
+preceding sketch. His is a case where, in very truth, the whole is
+more than the sum of the parts. Goethe is the representative of an
+epoch. He stands for certain ideals which are not those of the present
+hour, but which it was of inestimable value to the modern man to have
+thus nobly worked out and exemplified in practice. Behind and beneath
+his writings, informing them and giving them their value for
+posterity, is a wonderful personality which it is a delight and an
+education to study in the whole process of its evolution. By way of
+struggle, pain and error, like his own Faust, he arrived at a view of
+life, in which he found inspiration and inner peace. It is outlined in
+the verses which he placed before his short poems as a sort of motto:
+
+  Wide horizon, eager life,
+  Busy years of honest strife,
+  Ever seeking, ever founding,
+  Never ending, ever rounding,
+  Guarding tenderly the old,
+  Taking of the new glad hold,
+  Pure in purpose, light of heart,
+  Thus we gain--at least a start.
+
+[Illustration:  THE DEATH OF GOETHE Fritz Fleischer]
+
+
+
+POEMS
+
+GREETING AND DEPARTURE[4] (1771)
+
+  My heart throbbed high: to horse, away then!
+    Swift as a hero to the fight!
+  Earth in the arms of evening lay then,
+    And o'er the mountains hung the night,
+  Now could I see like some huge giant
+    The haze-enveloped oak-tree rise,
+  While from the thicket stared defiant
+    The darkness with its hundred eyes.
+
+  The cloud-throned moon from his dominion
+    Peered drowsily through veils of mist.
+  The wind with gently-wafting pinion
+    Gave forth a rustling strange and whist.
+  With shapes of fear the night was thronging
+    But all the more my courage glowed;
+  My soul flamed up in passionate longing
+    And hot my heart with rapture flowed.
+
+  I saw thee; melting rays of pleasure
+    Streamed o'er me from thy tender glance,
+  My heart beat only to thy measure,
+    I drew my breath as in a trance.
+  The radiant hue of spring caressing
+    Lay rosy on thy upturned face,
+  And love--ye gods, how rich the blessing!
+    I dared not hope to win such grace.
+
+  To part--alas what grief in this is!--
+    In every look thy heart spoke plain.
+  What ecstasy was in thy kisses!
+    What changing thrill of joy and pain!
+    I went. One solace yet to capture,
+    Thine eyes pursued in sweet distress.
+  But to be loved, what holy rapture!
+    To love, ah gods, what happiness!
+
+[Illustration: THE HEATHROSE K. Kogler]
+
+
+THE HEATHROSE[5] (1771)
+
+  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 splendor.
+  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
+    Heathrose fair and tender!
+  Said the boy, "I'll now pick thee
+    Heathrose fair and tender!"
+  Rosebud cried "And I'll prick thee,
+  So thou shalt remember me,
+    Ne'er will I surrender!"
+  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
+    Heathrose fair and tender!
+  But the wanton plucked the rose,
+    Heathrose fair and tender;
+  Thorns the cruel theft oppose,
+  Brief the struggle and vain the woes,
+    She must needs surrender.
+  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
+    Heathrose fair and tender!
+
+
+MAHOMET'S SONG[6] (1773)
+
+[This song was intended to be introduced in a dramatic poem entitled
+_Mahomet_, the plan of which was not carried out by Goethe. He
+mentions that it was to have been sung by Ali toward the end of the
+piece, in honor of his master, Mahomet, shortly before his death, and
+when at the height of his glory, of which it is typical.]
+
+  See the rock-born stream!
+  Like the gleam
+  Of a star so bright!
+  Kindly spirits
+  High above the clouds
+  Nourished him while youthful
+  In the copse between the cliffs.
+
+  Young and fresh,
+  From the clouds he danceth
+  Down upon the marble rocks;
+  Then tow'rd heaven
+  Leaps exulting.
+
+  Through the mountain-passes
+  Chaseth he the color'd pebbles,
+  And, advancing like a chief,
+  Draws his brother streamlets with him
+  In his course.
+
+  In the vale below
+  'Neath his footsteps spring the flowers,
+  And the meadow
+  In his breath finds life.
+
+  Yet no shady vale can stay him,
+  Nor can flowers,
+  Round his knees all softly twining
+  With their loving eyes detain him;
+  To the plain his course he taketh,
+  Serpent-winding.
+
+  Eager streamlets
+  Join his waters. And now moves he
+  O'er the plain in silv'ry glory,
+  And the plain in him exults,
+  And the rivers from the plain,
+  And the streamlets from the mountain,
+  Shout with joy, exclaiming: "Brother,
+  Brother, take thy brethren with thee.
+  With thee to thine agèd father,
+  To the everlasting ocean,
+  Who, with arms outstretching far,
+  Waiteth for us;
+  Ah, in vain those arms lie open
+  To embrace his yearning children;
+  For the thirsty sand consumes us
+  In the desert waste; the sunbeams
+  Drink our life-blood; hills around us
+  Into lakes would dam us! Brother,
+  Take thy brethren of the plain,
+  Take thy brethren of the mountain
+  With thee, to thy father's arms!"--
+
+  Let all come, then!--
+  And now swells he
+  Lordlier still; yea, e'en a people
+  Bears his regal flood on high!
+  And in triumph onward rolling,
+  Names to countries gives he,--cities
+  Spring to light beneath his foot.
+
+  Ever, ever, on he rushes,
+  Leaves the towers' flame-tipp'd summits,
+  Marble palaces, the offspring
+  Of his fulness, far behind.
+
+  Cedar-houses bears the Atlas
+  On his giant shoulders; flutt'ring
+  In the breeze far, far above him
+  Thousand flags are gaily floating,
+  Bearing witness to his might.
+
+  And so beareth he his brethren,
+  All his treasures, all his children,
+  Wildly shouting, to the bosom
+  Of his long-expectant sire.
+
+
+PROMETHEUS[7] (1774)
+
+  Cover thy spacious heavens, Zeus,
+  With clouds of mist,
+  And, like the boy who lops
+  The thistles' heads,
+  Disport with oaks and mountain-peaks;
+  Yet thou must leave
+
+  My earth still standing;
+  My cottage too, which was not raised by thee,
+  Leave me my hearth,
+  Whose kindly glow
+  By thee is envied.
+
+  I know nought poorer
+  Under the sun, than ye gods!
+  Ye nourish painfully,
+  With sacrifices
+  And votive prayers,
+  Your majesty;
+  Ye would e'en starve,
+  If children and beggars
+  Were not trusting fools.
+  While yet a child,
+  And ignorant of life,
+  I turned my wandering gaze
+  Up tow'rd the sun, as if with him
+  There were an ear to hear my wailing,
+  A heart, like mine
+  To feel compassion for distress.
+
+  Who help'd me
+  Against the Titans' insolence?
+  Who rescued me from certain death,
+  From slavery?
+  Didst thou not do all this thyself,
+  My sacred glowing heart?
+  And glowedst, young and good,
+  Deceived with grateful thanks
+  To yonder slumbering one?
+
+  I honor thee! and why?
+  Hast thou e'er lighten'd the sorrows
+  Of the heavy laden?
+  Hast thou e'er dried up the tears
+
+[Illustration: PROMETHEUS Titian.]
+
+  Of the anguish-stricken?
+  Was I not fashion'd to be a man
+  By omnipotent Time,
+  And by eternal Fate,
+  Masters of me and thee?
+
+  Didst thou e'er fancy
+  That life I should learn to hate,
+  And fly to deserts,
+  Because not all
+  My blossoming dreams grew ripe?
+
+  Here sit I, forming mortals
+  After my image;
+  A race resembling me,
+  To suffer, to weep,
+  To enjoy, to be glad,
+  And thee to scorn,
+  As I!
+
+
+THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG[8] (1776)
+
+  Thou who comest from on high,
+    Who all woes and sorrows stillest,
+  Who, for two-fold misery,
+    Hearts with twofold balsam fillest,
+  Would this constant strife would cease!
+    What avails the joy and pain?
+  Blissful Peace,
+    To my bosom come again!
+
+
+THE SEA-VOYAGE[9] (1776)
+
+  Many a day and night my bark stood ready laden;
+  Waiting fav'ring winds, I sat with true friends round me,
+  Pledging me to patience and to courage,
+  In the haven.
+
+  And they spoke thus with impatience twofold:
+  "Gladly pray we for thy rapid passage,
+  Gladly for thy happy voyage; fortune
+  In the distant world is waiting for thee,
+  In our arms thou'lt find thy prize, and love too,
+  When returning."
+
+  And when morning came, arose an uproar
+  And the sailors' joyous shouts awoke us;
+  All was stirring, all was living, moving,
+  Bent on sailing with the first kind zephyr.
+
+  And the sails soon in the breeze are swelling,
+  And the sun with fiery love invites us;
+  Fill'd the sails are, clouds on high are floating,
+  On the shore each friend exulting raises
+  Songs of hope, in giddy joy expecting
+  Joy the voyage through, as on the morn of sailing,
+  And the earliest starry nights so radiant.
+
+  But by God-sent changing winds ere long he's driven
+  Sideways from the course he had intended,
+  And he feigns as though he would surrender,
+  While he gently striveth to outwit them,
+  To his goal, e'en when thus press'd, still faithful.
+
+  But from out the damp gray distance rising,
+  Softly now the storm proclaims its advent,
+  Presseth down each bird upon the waters,
+  Presseth down the throbbing hearts of mortals.
+  And it cometh. At its stubborn fury,
+  Wisely ev'ry sail the seaman striketh;
+  With the anguish-laden ball are sporting
+  Wind and water.
+
+  And on yonder shore are gather'd standing,
+  Friends and lovers, trembling for the bold one:
+  "Why, alas, remain'd he here not with us!
+  Ah, the tempest I Cast away by fortune!
+  Must the good one perish in this fashion?
+  Might not he perchance * * *. Ye great immortals!"
+
+  Yet he, like a man, stands by his rudder;
+  With the bark are sporting wind and water,
+  Wind and water sport not with his bosom:
+  On the fierce deep looks he, as a master,--
+  In his gods, or shipwreck'd, or safe landed,
+  Trusting ever.
+
+
+ TO THE MOON[10] (1778)
+
+  Bush and vale thou fill'st again
+    With thy misty ray,
+  And my spirit's heavy chain
+    Casteth far away.
+
+  Thou dost o'er my fields extend
+    Thy sweet soothing eye,
+  Watching like a gentle friend,
+    O'er my destiny.
+
+  Vanish'd days of bliss and woe
+    Haunt me with their tone,
+  Joy and grief in turns I know,
+    As I stray alone.
+
+  Stream beloved, flow on! Flow on!
+    Ne'er can I be gay!
+  Thus have sport and kisses gone,
+    Truth thus pass'd away.
+
+  Once I seem'd the lord to be
+    Of that prize so fair!
+  Now, to our deep sorrow, we
+    Can forget it ne'er.
+
+  Murmur, stream, the vale along,
+    Never cease thy sighs;
+  Murmur, whisper to my song
+    Answering melodies!
+
+  When thou in the winter's night
+    Overflow'st in wrath,
+  Or in spring-time sparklest bright,
+    As the buds shoot forth.
+
+  He who from the world retires,
+    Void of hate, is blest;
+  Who a friend's true love inspires,
+    Leaning on his breast!
+
+  That which heedless man ne'er knew,
+    Or ne'er thought aright,
+  Roams the bosom's labyrinth through,
+    Boldly into night.
+
+
+THE FISHERMAN[11] (1778)
+
+  The waters rush'd, the waters rose,
+    A fisherman sat by,
+  While on his line in calm repose
+    He cast his patient eye.
+  And as he sat, and hearken'd there,
+    The flood was cleft in twain,
+  And, lo! a dripping mermaid fair
+    Sprang from the troubled main.
+
+  She sang to him, and spake the while
+    "Why lurest thou my brood,
+  With human wit and human guile
+    From out their native flood?
+  Oh, couldst thou know how gladly dart
+    The fish across the sea,
+  Thou wouldst descend, e'en as thou art,
+    And truly happy be!
+
+  Do not the sun and moon with grace
+    Their forms in ocean lave?
+  Shines not with twofold charms their face,
+    When rising from the wave?
+  The deep, deep heavens, then lure thee not,--
+    The moist yet radiant blue,--
+  Not thine own form,--to tempt thy lot
+    'Midst this eternal dew?"
+
+  The waters rush'd, the waters rose,
+    Wetting his naked feet;
+  As if his true love's words were those,
+    His heart with longing beat.
+  She sang to him, to him spake she,
+    His doom was fix'd, I ween;
+  Half drew she him, and half sank he,
+    And ne'er again was seen.
+
+[Illustration: THE FISHERMAN AND THE MERMAID Georg Papperitz]
+
+
+THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG[12] (1780)
+
+[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill in the forest of Ilmenau,
+on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composed the last act
+of his _Iphigenie_.]
+
+  Hush'd on the hill
+  Is the breeze;
+  Scarce by the zephyr
+  The trees
+  Softly are press'd;
+  The woodbird's asleep on the bough.
+  Wait, then, and thou
+  Soon wilt find rest.
+
+
+THE ERL-KING[13] (1782)
+
+  Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
+  The father it is, with his infant so dear;
+  He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm,
+  He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.
+
+  "My son, wherefore seek's thou thy face thus to hide?"
+  "Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!
+  Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?"
+  "My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain."
+
+  "Oh come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!
+  Full many a game I will play there with thee;
+  On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,
+  My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold."
+
+  "My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
+  The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?"
+  "Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;
+  'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."
+
+  "Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?
+  My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care;
+  My daughters by night their glad festival keep,
+  They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."
+
+  "My father, my father, and dost thou not see,
+  How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?"
+  "My darling, my darling, I see it aright,
+  'Tis the agèd gray willows deceiving thy sight."
+
+  "I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!
+  And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."
+  "My father, my father, he seizes me fast,
+  Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last."
+
+  The father now gallops, with terror half wild,
+  He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
+  He reaches his court-yard with toil and with dread,--
+  The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.
+
+
+THE GODLIKE[14] (1783)
+
+  Noble be man,
+  Helpful and good!
+  For that alone
+  Distinguisheth him
+  From all the beings
+  Unto us known.
+
+  Hail to the beings,
+  Unknown and glorious,
+  Whom we forebode!
+  From _his_ example
+  Learn we to know them!
+
+  For unfeeling
+  Nature is ever
+  On bad and on good
+  The sun alike shineth;
+  And on the wicked,
+  As on the best,
+  The moon and stars gleam.
+
+  Tempest and torrent,
+  Thunder and hail,
+  Roar on their path,
+  Seizing the while,
+  As they haste onward,
+  One after another.
+
+  Even so, fortune
+  Gropes 'mid the throng--
+  Innocent boyhood's
+  Curly head seizing,--
+  Seizing the hoary
+  Head of the sinner.
+
+  After laws mighty,
+  Brazen, eternal,
+  Must all we mortals
+  Finish the circuit
+  Of our existence.
+
+  Man, and man only
+  Can do the impossible
+  He 'tis distinguisheth,
+  Chooseth and judgeth;
+  He to the moment
+  Endurance can lend.
+
+  He and he only
+  The good can reward,
+  The bad can he punish,
+  Can heal and can save;
+  All that wanders and strays
+  Can usefully blend.
+
+  And we pay homage
+  To the immortals
+  As though they were men,
+  And did in the great,
+  What the best, in the small,
+  Does or might do.
+
+  Be the man that is noble,
+  Both helpful and good,
+  Unweariedly forming
+  The right and the useful,
+  A type of those beings
+  Our mind hath foreshadow'd!
+
+
+MIGNON[15] (1785)
+
+[This universally known poem is also to be found in _Wilhelm
+Meister_.]
+
+  Know'st thou the land where the fair citron blows,
+  Where the bright orange midst the foliage glows,
+  Where soft winds greet us from the azure skies,
+  Where silent myrtles, stately laurels rise,
+  Know'st thou it well?
+
+                         'Tis there, 'tis there,
+  That I with thee, beloved one, would repair.
+
+  Know'st thou the house? On columns rests its pile,
+  Its halls are gleaming, and its chambers smile,
+  And marble statues stand and gaze on me:
+  "Poor child! what sorrow hath befallen thee?"
+  Know'st thou it well?
+
+                         'Tis there, 'tis there,
+  That I with thee, protector, would repair!
+
+  Know'st thou the mountain, and its cloudy bridge?
+  The mule can scarcely find the misty ridge;
+  In caverns dwells the dragon's olden brood,
+  The frowning crag obstructs the raging flood.
+  Know'st thou it well?
+
+                         'Tis there, 'tis there,
+  Our path lies--Father--thither, oh repair!
+
+
+PROXIMITY OF THE BELOVED ONE[16] (1795)
+
+  I think of thee, whene'er the sun his beams
+      O'er ocean flings;
+  I think of thee, whene'er the moonlight gleams
+      In silv'ry springs.
+
+  I see thee, when upon the distant ridge
+      The dust awakes;
+  At midnight's hour, when on the fragile bridge
+      The wanderer quakes.
+
+  I hear thee, when yon billows rise on high,
+      With murmur deep.
+  To tread the silent grove oft wander I,
+      When all's asleep.
+
+  I'm near thee, though thou far away mayst be--
+      Thou, too, art near!
+  The sun then sets, the stars soon lighten me,
+      Would thou wert here!
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT[17] (1802)
+
+  Up yonder on the mountain,
+    I dwelt for days together;
+  Looked down into the valley,
+    This pleasant summer weather.
+
+  My sheep go feeding onward,
+    My dog sits watching by;
+  I've wandered to the valley,
+    And yet I know not why.
+
+  The meadow, it is pretty,
+    With flowers so fair to see;
+  I gather them, but no one
+    Will take the flowers from me.
+
+  The good tree gives me shadow,
+    And shelter from the rain;
+  But yonder door is silent,
+    It will not ope again!
+
+  I see the rainbow bending,
+    Above her old abode,
+  But she is there no longer;
+    They've taken my love abroad.
+
+  They took her o'er the mountains,
+    They took her o'er the sea;
+  Move on, move on, my bonny sheep,
+    There is no rest for me!
+
+
+NATURE AND ART[18] (1802)
+
+  Nature and art asunder seem to fly,
+    Yet sooner than we think find common ground;
+    In place of strife, harmonious songs resound,
+  And both, at one, to my abode draw nigh.
+  In sooth but one endeavor I descry:
+    Then only, when in ordered moments' round
+    Wisdom and toil our lives to Art have bound,
+  Dare we rejoice in Nature's liberty.
+  Thus is achievement fashioned everywhere:
+    Not by ungovernable, hasty zeal
+      Shalt thou the height of perfect form attain.
+  Husband thy strength, if great emprize thou dare;
+    In self-restraint thy masterhood reveal,
+      And under law thy perfect freedom gain.
+
+
+COMFORT IN TEARS[19] (1803)
+
+  How is it that thou art so sad
+    When others are so gay?
+  Thou hast been weeping--nay, thou hast!
+    Thine eyes the truth betray.
+
+  "And if I may not choose but weep
+    Is not my grief mine own?
+  No heart was heavier yet for tears--
+    O leave me, friend, alone!"
+
+  Come join this once the merry band,
+    They call aloud for thee,
+  And mourn no more for what is lost,
+    But let the past go free.
+
+  "O, little know ye in your mirth,
+    What wrings my heart so deep!
+  I have not lost the idol yet,
+    For which I sigh and weep."
+
+  Then rouse thee and take heart! thy blood
+    Is young and full of fire;
+  Youth should have hope and might to win,
+    And wear its best desire.
+
+  "O, never may I hope to gain
+    What dwells from me so far;
+  It stands as high, it looks as bright,
+    As yonder burning star."
+
+  Why, who would seek to woo the stars
+    Down from their glorious sphere?
+  Enough it is to worship them,
+    When nights are calm and clear.
+
+  "Oh, I look up and worship too--
+    My star it shines by day--
+  Then let me weep the livelong night
+    The while it is away."
+
+
+EPILOGUE TO SCHILLER'S "SONG OF THE
+BELL"[20]
+
+[This fine piece, written originally in 1805, on Schiller's death,
+was altered and recast by Goethe in 1815, on the occasion of the
+performance on the stage of the _Song of the Bell_. Hence the allusion
+in the last verse.]
+
+  To this city joy reveal it!
+  Peace as its first signal peal it!
+
+(_Song of the Bell_--concluding lines).
+
+  And so it proved! The nation felt, ere long,
+  That peaceful signal, and, with blessings fraught,
+  A new-born joy appeared; in gladsome song
+  To hail the youthful princely pair we sought;
+  While in the living, ever-swelling throng
+  Mingled the crowds from every region brought,
+  And on the stage, in festal pomp arrayed,
+  The HOMAGE OF THE ARTS[21] we saw displayed.
+
+  When, lo! a fearful midnight sound I hear,
+  That with a dull and mournful echo rings.
+  And can it be that of our friend so dear
+  It tells, to whom each wish so fondly clings?
+  Shall death o'ercome a life that all revere?
+  How such a loss to all confusion brings!
+  How such a parting we must ever rue!
+  The world is weeping--shall not we weep, too?
+
+  He was our own! How social, yet how great
+  Seemed in the light of day his noble mind!
+  How was his nature, pleasing yet sedate,
+  Now for glad converse joyously inclined,
+  Then swiftly changing, spirit-fraught elate,
+  Life's plan with deep-felt meaning it designed,
+  Fruitful alike in counsel and in deed!
+  This have we proved, this tested, in our need.
+
+  He was our own! O may that thought so blest
+  O'ercome the voice of wailing and of woe!
+  He might have sought the Lasting, safe at rest
+  In harbor, when the tempest ceased to blow.
+  Meanwhile his mighty spirit onward pressed
+  Where goodness, beauty, truth, forever grow;
+  And in his rear, in shadowy outline, lay
+  The vulgar, which we all, alas, obey!
+
+  Now doth he deck the garden-turret fair
+  Where the stars' language first illumed his soul,
+  As secretly yet clearly through the air
+  On the eterne, the living sense it stole;
+  And to his own, and our great profit, there
+  Exchangeth to the seasons as they roll;
+  Thus nobly doth he vanquish, with renown,
+  The twilight and the night that weigh us down.
+
+  Brighter now glowed his cheek, and still more bright,
+  With that unchanging, ever-youthful glow,--
+  That courage which o'ercomes, in hard-fought fight,
+  Sooner or later, every earthly foe,--
+  That faith which, soaring to the realms of light,
+  Now boldly presseth on, now bendeth low,
+  So that the good may work, wax, thrive amain,
+  So that the day the noble may attain.
+
+  Yet, though so skilled, of such transcendent worth,
+  This boarded scaffold doth he not despise;
+  The fate that on its axis turns the earth
+  From day to night, here shows he to our eyes,
+  Raising, through many a work of glorious birth,
+  Art and the artist's fame up toward the skies.
+  He fills with blossoms of the noblest strife,
+  With life itself, this effigy of life.
+
+  His giant-step, as ye full surely know,
+  Measured the circle of the will and deed,
+  Each country's changing thoughts and morals, too,
+  The darksome book with clearness could he read;
+  Yet how he, breathless 'midst his friends so true,
+  Despaired in sorrow, scarce from pain was freed,--
+  All this have we, in sadly happy years,
+  For he was ours, bewailed with feeling tears.
+
+  When from the agonizing weight of grief
+  He raised his eyes upon the world again,
+  We showed him how his thoughts might find relief
+  From the uncertain present's heavy chain,
+  Gave his fresh-kindled mind a respite brief,
+  With kindly skill beguiling every pain,
+  And e'en at eve when setting was his sun,
+  From his wan cheeks a gentle smile we won.
+
+  Full early had he read the stern decree,
+  Sorrow and death to him, alas, were known;
+  Ofttimes recovering, now departed he,--
+  Dread tidings, that our hearts had feared to own!
+  Yet his transfigured being now can see
+  Itself, e'en here on earth, transfigured grown.
+  What his own age reproved, and deemed a crime,
+  Hath been ennobled now by death and time.
+
+  And many a soul that with him strove in fight,
+  And his great merit grudged to recognize,
+  Now feels the impress of his wondrous might,
+  And in his magic fetters gladly lies;
+  E'en to the highest hath he winged his flight,
+  In close communion linked with all we prize.
+  Extol him then! What mortals while they live
+  But half receive, posterity shall give.
+
+  Thus is he left us, who so long ago,--
+  Ten years, alas, already!--turned from earth;
+  We all, to our great joy, his precepts know,
+  Oh, may the world confess their priceless worth!
+  In swelling tide toward every region flow
+  The thoughts that were his own peculiar birth;
+  He gleams like some departing meteor bright,
+  Combining, with his own, eternal light.
+
+
+ERGO BIBAMUS![22] (1810)
+
+  For a praiseworthy object we're now gathered here,
+  So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  Tho' talk may be hushed, yet the glasses ring clear,
+  Remember then, ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word,
+  With its sound befitting each bosom is stirred,
+  And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,
+  A glorious ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+  I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare,
+  And bethought me of: ERGO BIBAMUS;
+  So I gently approached, and she let me stand there,
+  While I helped myself, thinking: BIBAMUS!
+  And when she's appeared, and will clasp you and kiss,
+  Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss,
+  Take refuge, till found is some worthier bliss,
+  In the comforting ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+  I am called by my fate far away from each friend;
+  Ye loved ones, then: ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend,
+  So double our ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  Whate'er to his treasure the niggard may add,
+  Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had,
+  For gladness lends ever its charms to the glad,
+  So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+  And what shall we say of to-day as it flies?
+  I thought but of:  ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise,
+  So again and again sing: BIBAMUS!
+  For joy through a wide-open portal it guides,
+  Bright glitter the clouds as the curtain divides,
+  And a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides,
+  While we thunder our: ERGO BIBAMUS.
+
+
+THE WALKING BELL[23] (1813)
+
+  A child refused to go betimes
+  To church like other people;
+  He roamed abroad, when rang the chimes
+  On Sundays from the steeple.
+
+  His mother said: "Loud rings the bell,
+  Its voice ne'er think of scorning;
+  Unless thou wilt behave thee well,
+  'Twill fetch thee without warning."
+
+  The child then thought: "High over head
+  The bell is safe suspended--"
+  So to the fields he straightway sped
+  As if 'twas school-time ended.
+
+  The bell now ceased as bell to ring,
+  Roused by the mother's twaddle;
+  But soon ensued a dreadful thing!--
+  The bell begins to waddle.
+
+  It waddles fast, though strange it seem;
+  The child, with trembling wonder,
+  Runs off, and flies, as in a dream;
+  The bell would draw him under.
+
+  He finds the proper time at last,
+  And straightway nimbly rushes
+  To church, to chapel, hastening fast
+  Through pastures, plains, and bushes.
+
+  Each Sunday and each feast as well,
+  His late disaster heeds he;
+  The moment that he hears the bell,
+  No other summons needs he.
+
+
+FOUND[24] (1813)
+
+  Once through the forest
+  Alone I went;
+  To seek for nothing
+  My thoughts were bent.
+
+  I saw i' the shadow
+  A flower stand there;
+  As stars it glisten'd,
+  As eyes 'twas fair.
+
+  I sought to pluck it,--
+  It gently said:
+  "Shall I be gather'd
+  Only to fade?"
+
+  With all its roots
+  I dug it with care,
+  And took it home
+  To my garden fair.
+
+  In silent corner
+  Soon it was set;
+  There grows it ever,
+  There blooms it yet.
+
+
+HATEM[25] (1815)
+
+  Locks of brown, still bind your captive
+  In the circle of her face!
+  I, beloved sinuous tresses,
+  Naught possess that's worth your grace--
+
+  But a heart whose love enduring
+  Swells in youthful fervor yet:
+  Snow and mists envelop Etna,
+  Making men the fire forget.
+
+  Yonder mountain's pride so stately
+  Thou dost shame like dawn's red glow;
+  And its spell once more bids Hatem
+  Thrill of spring and summer know.
+
+  Once more fill the glass, the flagon!
+  Let me drink to my desire.
+  If she find a heap of ashes,
+  Say, "He perished in her fire!"
+
+
+REUNION[26] (1815)
+
+  Can it be, O star transcendent,
+  That I fold thee to my breast?
+  Now I know, what depths of anguish
+  May in parting be expressed.
+  Yes, 'tis thou, of all my blisses
+  Lovely, loving partner--thou!
+  Mindful of my bygone sorrows,
+  E'en the present awes me now.
+
+  When the world in first conception
+  Lay in God's eternal mind,
+  In creative power delighting
+  He the primal hour designed.
+  When he gave command for being,
+  Then was heard a mighty sigh
+  Full of pain, as all creation
+  Broke into reality.
+
+  Up then sprang the light; and darkness
+  Doubtful stood apart to gaze;
+  All the elements, dividing
+  Swiftly, took their several ways.
+  In confused, disordered dreaming
+  Strove they all for freedom's range--
+  Each for self, no fellow-feeling;
+  Single each, and cold and strange.
+
+  Lo, a marvel--God was lonely!
+  All was still and cold and dumb.
+  So he framed dawn's rosy blushes
+  Whence should consolation come--
+  To refresh the troubled spirit
+  Harmonies of color sweet:
+  What had erst been forced asunder
+  Now at last could love and meet.
+
+  Then, ah then, of life unbounded
+  Sight and feeling passed the gates;
+  Then, ah then, with eager striving
+  Kindred atoms sought their mates.
+  Gently, roughly they may seize them,
+  So they catch and hold them fast:
+  "We," they cry, "are now creators--
+  Allah now may rest at last!"
+
+  So with rosy wings of morning
+  Towards thy lips my being moves;
+  Sets the starry night a thousand
+  Glowing seals upon our loves.
+  We are as we should be--parted
+  Ne'er on earth in joy or pain;
+  And no second word creative
+  E'er can sunder us again!
+
+
+PROOEMION[27] (1816)
+
+  In His blest name, who was His own creation,
+  Who from all time makes _making_ His vocation;
+  The name of Him who makes our faith so bright,
+  Love, confidence, activity, and might;
+  In that One's name, who, named though oft He be,
+  Unknown is ever in Reality:
+  As far as ear can reach, or eyesight dim,
+  Thou findest but the known resembling Him;
+  How high soe'er thy fiery spirit hovers,
+  Its simile and type it straight discovers;
+  Onward thou'rt drawn, with feelings light and gay,
+  Where e'er thou goest, smiling is the way;
+  No more thou numberest, reckonest no time,
+  Each step is infinite, each step sublime.
+  What God would _outwardly_ alone control,
+  And on His finger whirl the mighty Whole?
+  He loves the _inner_ world to move, to view
+  Nature in Him, Himself in Nature, too,
+  So that what in Him works, and is, and lives,
+  The measure of His strength, His spirit gives.
+  Within us all a universe doth dwell;
+  And hence each people's usage laudable,
+  That every one the Best that meets his eyes
+  As God, yea, e'en _his_ God, doth recognize;
+  To Him both earth and heaven surrenders he,
+  Fears Him, and loves Him, too, if that may be.
+
+
+THE ONE AND THE ALL[28] (1821)
+
+  Called to a new employ in boundless space,
+  The lonely monad quits its 'customed place
+  And from life's weary round contented flees.
+  No more of passionate striving, will perverse
+  And hampering obligations, long a curse:
+  Free self-abandonment at last gives peace.
+
+  Soul of the world, come pierce our being through!
+  Across the drift of things our way to hew
+  Is our appointed task, our noblest war.
+  Good spirits by our destined pathway still
+  Lead gently on, best masters of our will,
+  Toward that which made and makes all things that are.
+  To shape for further ends what now has breath,
+  Let nothing harden into ice and death,
+  Works endless living action everywhere.
+  What has not yet existed strives for birth--
+  Toward purer suns, more glorious-colored earth:
+  To rest in idle stillness naught may dare.
+  All must move onward, help transform the mass,
+  Assume a form, to yet another pass;
+  'Tis but in seeming aught is fixed or still.
+  In all things moves the eternal restless Thought;
+  For all, when comes the hour, must fall to naught
+  If to persist in being is its will.
+
+
+LINES ON SEEING SCHILLER'S SKULL[30] (1826)
+
+[This curious imitation of the ternary metre of Dante was written at
+the age of seventy-seven.]
+
+  Within a gloomy charnel-house one day
+  I viewed the countless skulls, so strangely mated,
+  And of old times I thought that now were gray.
+  Close packed they stand that once so fiercely hated,
+  And hardy bones that to the death contended,
+  Are lying crossed,--to lie forever, fated.
+  What held those crooked shoulder-blades suspended?
+  No one now asks; and limbs with vigor fired,
+  The hand, the foot--their use in life is ended.
+  Vainly ye sought the tomb for rest when tired;
+  Peace in the grave may not be yours; ye're driven
+  Back into daylight by a force inspired;
+  But none can love the withered husk, though even
+  A glorious noble kernel it contained.
+
+  To me, an adept, was the writing given
+  Which not to all its holy sense explained.
+  When 'mid the crowd, their icy shadows flinging,
+  I saw a form that glorious still remained,
+  And even there, where mould and damp were clinging,
+  Gave me a blest, a rapture-fraught emotion,
+  As though from death a living fount were springing.
+  What mystic joy I felt! What rapt devotion!
+  That form, how pregnant with a godlike trace!
+  A look, how did it whirl me toward that ocean
+  Whose rolling billows mightier shapes embrace!
+  Mysterious vessel! Oracle how dear!
+  Even to grasp thee is my hand too base,
+  Except to steal thee from thy prison here
+  With pious purpose, and devoutly go
+  Back to the air, free thoughts, and sunlight clear.
+  What greater gain in life can man e'er know
+  Than when God-Nature will to him explain
+  How into Spirit steadfastness may flow,
+  How steadfast, too, the Spirit-Born remain.
+
+
+A LEGACY[31] (1829)
+
+  No living atom comes at last to naught!
+  Active in each is still the eternal Thought:
+  Hold fast to Being if thou wouldst be blest.
+  Being is without end; for changeless laws
+  Bind that from which the All its glory draws
+  Of living treasures endlessly possessed.
+
+  Unto the wise of old this truth was known,
+  Such wisdom knit their noble souls in one;
+  Then hold thou still the lore of ancient days!
+  To that high power thou ow'st it, son of man,
+  By whose decree the earth its circuit ran
+  And all the planets went their various ways.
+  Then inward turn at once thy searching eyes;
+
+  Thence shalt thou see the central truth arise
+  From which no lofty soul goes e'er astray;
+  There shalt thou miss no needful guiding sign--
+  For conscience lives, and still its light divine
+  Shall be the sun of all thy moral day.
+  Next shalt thou trust thy senses' evidence,
+  And fear from them no treacherous offence
+  While the mind's watchful eye thy road commands:
+  With lively pleasure contemplate the scene
+  And roam securely, teachable, serene,
+  At will throughout a world of fruitful lands.
+  Enjoy in moderation all life gives:
+  Where it rejoices in each thing that lives
+  Let reason be thy guide and make thee see.
+  Then shall the distant past be present still,
+  The future, ere it comes, thy vision fill--
+  Each single moment touch eternity.
+  Then at the last shalt thou achieve thy quest,
+  And in one final, firm conviction rest:
+  What bears for thee true fruit alone is true.
+  Prove all things, watch the movement of the world
+  As down the various ways its tribes are whirled;
+  Take thou thy stand among the chosen few.
+  Thus hath it been of old; in solitude
+  The artist shaped what thing to him seemed good,
+  The wise man hearkened to his own soul's voice.
+  Thus also shalt thou find thy greatest bliss;
+  To lead where the elect shall follow--this
+  And this alone is worth a hero's choice.
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO HERMANN AND DOROTHEA
+
+Hermann and Dorothea is universally known and prized in Germany as no
+other work of the classical period of German literature except
+Goethe's _Faust_ and Schiller's _Wilhelm Tell_, and, although
+distinctively German in subject and spirit, it early became and is
+still a precious possession of all the modern world. It marks the
+culmination of the renaissance in the literary art of Germany and
+perhaps of Europe.
+
+Schiller hailed it as the pinnacle of Goethe's and of all modern art.
+A. W. Schlegel in 1797 judged it to be a finished work of art in the
+grand style, and at the same time intelligible, sympathetic,
+patriotic, popular, a book full of golden teachings of wisdom and
+virtue. Two generations later one of the leading historians of German
+literature declared that there is no other poem that comes so near to
+the father of all poetry (Homer) as this, none in which Greek form and
+German content are so intimately blended, and that this is perhaps the
+only poem which without explanation and without embarrassment all the
+modern centuries could offer to an ancient Greek to enjoy. In the view
+of the end of the nineteenth century, expressed by a distinguished
+philosopher-critic, this work is a unique amalgam of the artistic
+spirit, objectivity, and contemplative clearness of Homer with the
+soul-life of the present, the heart-beat of the German people, the
+characteristic traits which mark the German nature.
+
+As Longfellow's _Evangeline_, treating in the same verse-form of the
+dactylic hexameter and in a way partly epic and partly idyllic a story
+of love and domestic interests in a contrasting setting of war and
+exile, was modeled on _Hermann and Dorothea_, so the latter poem was
+suggested by J. H. Voss' idyl _Luise_, published first in parts in
+1783 and 1784 and as a whole revised in 1795. Of his delight in
+_Luise_ Goethe wrote to Schiller in February, 1798: "This proved to be
+much to my advantage, for this joy finally became productive in me, it
+drew me into this form (the epic), begot my _Hermann_, and who knows
+what may yet come of it." But _Luise_ is not really epic; it is
+without action, without unity, without any large historical outlook,--a
+series of minutely pictured, pleasing idyllic scenes.
+
+In contrast herewith Goethe's purpose was in his own words, "in an
+epic crucible to free from its dross the purely human existence of a
+small German town, and at the same time mirror in a small glass the
+great movements and changes of the world's stage." This purpose he
+achieved in the writing of _Hermann and Dorothea_ at intervals from
+September, 1796, through the summer of 1797, in the autumn of which
+year the poem was published.
+
+The main sources from which the poet drew his material are four. In
+the first place the theme was invented by him out of an anecdote of
+the flight of Protestant refugees from the Archbishopric of Salzburg
+in 1731-1732. On the basis of this anecdote he drew the original
+outlines of the meeting and union of the lovers. Secondly, as a
+consequence of the French Revolution, Germans were forced to flee from
+German territory west of the Rhine. Goethe was present with Prussian
+troops in France in 1792, and observed the siege of Mainz in 1793.
+Hence his knowledge of war and exile, with their attendant cruelties
+and sufferings. Thirdly, the personal experiences of his own life
+could not but contribute to his description of the then German
+present. Features of Frankfurt and Ilmenau reappear. The characters
+show traits of Goethe's parents, and possibly something of his wife is
+in Dorothea. Hermann's mother bears the name of the poet's and reveals
+many of her qualities. But some of these are given to the
+landlord-father, while the elder Goethe's pedantry and petty
+weaknesses are shown in the apothecary. The poet's experiences in the
+field are realistically reproduced in many particulars of character
+and incident, as are doubtless also his mother's vivid reports of
+events in Frankfurt during July and August, 1796. We may feel sure too
+that it was the occurrences of this summer that led Goethe to
+transform the short, pure idyl of his first intention into a longer
+epic of his own present. The fourth source is literary tradition,
+which we may trace back through the verse idyl of Voss to the prose
+idyl of Gessner, thence through the unnatural Arcadian pastorals of
+the seventeenth and earlier centuries to the great Greek
+creators,--Theocritus, of the idyl, and Homer, of the epic.
+
+From whatever source derived, the materials were transmuted and
+combined by Goethe's genius into a broad, full picture of German life,
+with characters typical of the truly human and of profound ethical
+importance, interpreting to the attentive reader the significance of
+life for the individual, the family, the nation.
+
+
+HERMANN AND DOROTHEA (1797)[32]
+
+TRANSLATED BY ELLEN FROTHINGHAM
+
+
+CALLIOPE
+
+FATE AND SYMPATHY
+
+Truly, I never have seen the market and street so deserted!
+How as if it were swept looks the town, or had perished! Not fifty
+Are there, methinks, of all our inhabitants in it remaining.
+
+What will not curiosity do! here is every one running,
+Hurrying to gaze on the sad procession of pitiful exiles.
+Fully a league it must be to the causeway they have to pass over,
+Yet all are hurrying down in the dusty heat of the noonday.
+I, in good sooth, would not stir from my place to witness the sorrows
+Borne by good, fugitive people, who now, with their rescued possessions,
+Driven, alas! from beyond the Rhine, their beautiful country,
+Over to us are coming, and through the prosperous corner
+Roam of this our luxuriant valley, and traverse its windings.
+"Well hast thou done, good wife, our son in thus kindly dispatching,
+Laden with something to eat and to drink, and with store of old linen,
+'Mongst the poor folk to distribute; for giving belongs to the wealthy.
+How the youth drives, to be sure! What control he has over the horses!
+Makes not our carriage a handsome appearance,--the new one? With comfort,
+Four could be seated within, with a place on the box for the coachman.
+This time, he drove by himself. How lightly it rolled round the corner!"
+Thus, as he sat at his ease in the porch of his house on the market,
+Unto his wife was speaking mine host of the Golden Lion.
+
+Thereupon answered and said the prudent, intelligent housewife:
+"Father, I am not inclined to be giving away my old linen:
+Since it serves many a purpose; and cannot be purchased for money,
+When we may want it. To-day, however, I gave, and with pleasure,
+Many a piece that was better, indeed, in shirts and in bed-clothes;
+For I was told of the aged and children who had to go naked.
+But wilt thou pardon me, father? thy wardrobe has also been plundered.
+And, in especial, the wrapper that has the East-Indian flowers,
+Made of the finest of chintz, and lined with delicate flannel,
+Gave I away: it was thin and old, and quite out of the fashion."
+
+Thereupon answered and said, with a smile, the excellent landlord:
+"Faith! I am sorry to lose it, my good old calico wrapper,
+Real East-Indian stuff: I never shall get such another.
+Well, I had given up wearing it: nowadays, custom compels us
+Always to go in surtout, and never appear but in jacket;
+Always to have on our boots; forbidden are night-cap and slippers."
+
+[Illustration: HERMANN'S PARENTS IN THE DOORWAY OF THE TAVERN Ludwig
+Richter]
+
+"See!" interrupted the wife; "even now some are yonder returning,
+Who have beheld the procession: it must, then, already be over.
+Look at the dust on their shoes! and see how their faces are glowing!
+Every one carries his kerchief, and with it is wiping the sweat off.
+Not for a sight like that would I run so far and so suffer,
+Through such a heat; in sooth, enough shall I have in the telling."
+
+Thereupon answered and said, with emphasis, thus, the good father:
+"Rarely does weather like this attend such a harvest as this is.
+We shall be bringing our grain in dry, as the hay was before it.
+Not the least cloud to be seen, so perfectly clear is the heaven;
+And, with delicious coolness, the wind blows in from the eastward.
+That is the weather to last! over-ripe are the cornfields already;
+We shall begin on the morrow to gather our copious harvest."
+
+Constantly, while he thus spoke, the crowds of men and of women
+Grew, who their homeward way were over the market-place wending;
+And, with the rest, there also returned, his daughters beside him,
+Back to his modernized house on the opposite side of the market,
+Foremost merchant of all the town, their opulent neighbor,
+Rapidly driving his open barouche,--it was builded in Landau.
+Lively now grew the streets, for the city was handsomely peopled.
+Many a trade was therein carried on, and large manufactures.
+Under their doorway thus the affectionate couple were sitting,
+Pleasing themselves with many remarks on the wandering people.
+Finally broke in, however, the worthy housewife, exclaiming:
+"Yonder our pastor, see! is hitherward coming, and with him
+Comes our neighbor the doctor, so they shall every thing tell us;
+All they have witnessed abroad, and which 'tis a sorrow to look on."
+
+Cordially then the two men drew nigh, and saluted the couple;
+Sat themselves down on the benches of wood that were placed in the doorway,
+Shaking the dust from their feet, and fanning themselves with
+                                            their kerchiefs.
+Then was the doctor, as soon as exchanged were the mutual greetings,
+First to begin, and said, almost in a tone of vexation:
+"Such is mankind, forsooth! and one man is just like another,
+Liking to gape and to stare when ill-luck has befallen his neighbor.
+Every one hurries to look at the flames, as they soar in destruction;
+Runs to behold the poor culprit, to execution conducted:
+Now all are sallying forth to gaze on the need of these exiles,
+Nor is there one who considers that he, by a similar fortune,
+May, in the future, if not indeed next, be likewise o'ertaken.
+Levity not to be pardoned, I deem; yet it lies in man's nature."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the noble, intelligent pastor;
+Ornament he of the town, still young, in the prime of his manhood.
+
+He was acquainted with life,--with the needs of his hearers acquainted;
+Deeply imbued he was with the Holy Scriptures' importance,
+As they reveal man's destiny to us, and man's disposition;
+Thoroughly versed, besides, in best of secular writings.
+"I should be loath," he replied, "to censure an innocent instinct,
+Which to mankind by good mother Nature has always been given.
+What understanding and reason may sometimes fail to accomplish,
+Oft will such fortunate impulse, that bears us resistlessly with it.
+Did curiosity draw not man with its potent attraction,
+Say, would he ever have learned how harmoniously fitted together
+Worldly experiences are? For first what is novel he covets;
+Then with unwearying industry follows he after the useful;
+Finally longs for the good by which he is raised and ennobled.
+While he is young, such lightness of mind is a joyous companion,
+Traces of pain-giving evil effacing as soon as 'tis over.
+He is indeed to be praised, who, out of this gladness of temper,
+Has in his ripening years a sound understanding developed;
+Who, in good fortune or ill, with zeal and activity labors:
+Such an one bringeth to pass what is good, and repaireth the evil."
+
+Then broke familiarly in the housewife impatient, exclaiming:
+"Tell us of what ye have seen; for that I am longing to hear of!"
+
+"Hardly," with emphasis then the village doctor made answer,
+"Can I find spirits so soon after all the scenes I have witnessed.
+Oh, the manifold miseries! who shall be able to tell them?
+E'en before crossing the meadows, and while we were yet at a distance,
+Saw we the dust; but still from hill to hill the procession
+Passed away out of our sight, and we could distinguish but little.
+But when at last we were come to the street that crosses the valley,
+Great was the crowd and confusion of persons on foot and of wagons.
+There, alas! saw we enough of these poor unfortunates passing,
+And could from some of them learn how bitter the sorrowful flight was,
+Yet how joyful the feeling of life thus hastily rescued.
+Mournful it was to behold the most miscellaneous chattels,--
+All those things which are housed in every well-furnished dwelling,
+All by the house-keeper's care set up in their suitable places,
+Always ready for use; for useful is each and important.--
+Now these things to behold, piled up on all manner of wagons,
+One on the top of another, as hurriedly they had been rescued.
+Over the chest of drawers were the sieve and wool coverlet lying;
+Thrown in the kneading-trough lay the bed, and the sheets on the mirror.
+Danger, alas! as we learned ourselves in our great conflagration
+Twenty years since, will take from a man all power of reflection,
+So that he grasps things worthless and leaves what is precious behind him.
+Here, too, with unconsidering care they were carrying with them
+Pitiful trash, that only encumbered the horses and oxen;
+Such as old barrels and boards, the pen for the goose, and the bird-cage.
+Women and children, too, went toiling along with their bundles,
+Panting 'neath baskets and tubs, full of things of no manner of value:
+So unwilling is man to relinquish his meanest possession.
+Thus on the dusty road the crowded procession moved forward,
+All confused and disordered. The one whose beasts were the weaker,
+Wanted more slowly to drive, while faster would hurry another.
+Presently went up a scream from the closely squeezed women and children,
+And with the yelping of dogs was mingled the lowing of cattle,
+Cries of distress from the aged and sick, who aloft on the wagon,
+Heavy and thus overpacked, upon beds were sitting and swaying.
+Pressed at last from the rut and out to the edge of the highway,
+Slipped the creaking wheel; the cart lost its balance, and over
+Fell in the ditch. In the swing the people were flung to a distance,
+Far off into the field, with horrible screams; by good fortune
+Later the boxes were thrown and fell more near to the wagon.
+Verily all who had witnessed the fall, expected to see them
+Crushed into pieces beneath the weight of trunks and of presses.
+So lay the cart all broken to fragments, and helpless the people.
+Keeping their onward way, the others drove hastily by them,
+Each thinking only of self, and carried away by the current.
+Then we ran to the spot, and found the sick and the aged,--
+Those who at home and in bed could before their lingering ailments
+Scarcely endure,--lying bruised on the ground, complaining and groaning,
+Choked by the billowing dust and scorched by the heat of the noonday."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the kind-hearted landlord, with feeling:
+"Would that our Hermann might meet them and give them refreshment
+                                                   and clothing!
+Loath should I be to behold them: the looking on suffering pains me.
+Touched by the earliest tidings of their so cruel afflictions,
+Hastily sent we a mite from out of our super-abundance,
+Only that some might be strengthened, and we might ourselves be made easy.
+But let us now no longer renew these sorrowful pictures
+Knowing how readily fear steals into the heart of us mortals,
+And anxiety, worse to me than the actual evil.
+Come with me into the room behind, our cool little parlor,
+Where no sunbeam e'er shines, and no sultry breath ever enters
+Through its thickness of wall. There mother will bring us a flagon
+Of our old eighty-three, with which we may banish our fancies.
+Here 'tis not cosey to drink: the flies so buzz round the glasses."
+Thither adjourned they then, and all rejoiced in the coolness.
+
+Carefully brought forth the mother the clear and glorious vintage,
+Cased in a well-polished flask, on a waiter of glittering pewter,
+Set round with large green glasses, the drinking cups meet for the
+                                                     Rhine wine.
+So sat the three together about the highly waxed table,
+Gleaming and round and brown, that on mighty feet was supported.
+Joyously rang at once the glasses of landlord and pastor,
+But his motionless held the third, and sat lost in reflection,
+Until with words of good-humor the landlord challenged him, saying,--
+"Come, sir neighbor, empty your glass, for God in His mercy
+Thus far has kept us from evil, and so in the future will keep us.
+For who acknowledges not, that since our dread conflagration,
+When He so hardly chastised us, He now is continually blessing,
+Constantly shielding, as man the apple of His eye watches over,
+Holding it precious and dear above all the rest of His members?
+Shall He in time to come not defend us and furnish us succor?
+Only when danger is nigh do we see how great is His power.
+Shall He this blooming town which He once by industrious burghers
+Built up afresh from its ashes, and afterward blessed with abundance,
+Now demolish again, and bring all the labor to nothing?"
+
+Cheerfully said in reply the excellent pastor, and kindly:
+"Keep thyself firm in the faith, and firm abide in this temper;
+For it makes steadfast and wise when fortune is fair, and when evil,
+Furnishes sweet consolation and animates hopes the sublimest."
+
+Then made answer the landlord, with thoughts judicious and manly:
+"Often the Rhine's broad stream have I with astonishment greeted,
+As I have neared it again, after travelling abroad upon business.
+Always majestic it seemed, and my mind and spirit exalted.
+But I could never imagine its beautiful banks would so shortly
+Be to a rampart transformed, to keep from our borders the Frenchman,
+And its wide-spreading bed be a moat all passage to hinder.
+See! thus nature protects, the stout-hearted Germans protect us,
+And thus protects us the Lord, who then will be weakly despondent?
+Weary already the combatants, all indications are peaceful.
+Would it might be that when that festival, ardently longed for,
+Shall in our church be observed, when the sacred _Te Deum_ is rising,
+Swelled by the pealing of organ and bells, and the blaring of trumpets,--
+Would it might be that that day should behold my Hermann, sir pastor,
+Standing, his choice now made, with his bride before thee at the altar,
+Making that festal day, that through every land shall be honored,
+My anniversary, too, henceforth of domestic rejoicing!
+But I observe with regret, that the youth so efficient and active
+Ever in household affairs, when abroad is timid and backward.
+Little enjoyment he finds in going about among others;
+Nay, he will even avoid young ladies' society wholly;
+Shuns the enlivening dance which all young persons delight in."
+
+Thus he spoke and listened; for now was heard in the distance
+Clattering of horses' hoofs drawing near, and the roll of the wagon,
+Which, with furious haste, came thundering under the gateway.
+
+
+TERPSICHORE
+
+HERMANN
+
+Now when of comely mien the son came into the chamber,
+Turned with a searching look the eyes of the preacher upon him,
+And, with the gaze of the student, who easily fathoms expression,
+Scrutinized well his face and form and his general bearing.
+Then with a smile he spoke, and said in words of affection:
+"Truly a different being thou comest! I never have seen thee
+Cheerful as now, nor ever beheld I thy glances so beaming.
+Joyous thou comest, and happy: 'tis plain that among the poor people
+Thou hast been sharing thy gifts, and receiving their blessings
+                                                  upon thee."
+
+Quietly then, and with serious words, the son made him answer:
+"If I have acted as ye will commend, I know not; but I followed
+That which my heart bade me do, as I shall exactly relate you.
+Thou wert, mother, so long in rummaging 'mong thy old pieces,
+Picking and choosing, that not until late was thy bundle together;
+Then, too, the wine and the beer took care and time in the packing.
+When I came forth through the gateway at last, and out on the high-road,
+Backward the crowd of citizens streamed with women and children,
+Coming to meet me; for far was already the band of the exiles.
+Quicker I kept on my way, and drove with speed to the village,
+Where they were meaning to rest, as I heard, and tarry till morning.
+Thitherward up the new street as I hasted, a stout-timbered wagon,
+Drawn by two oxen, I saw, of that region the largest and strongest;
+While, with vigorous steps, a maiden was walking beside them,
+And, a long staff in her hand, the two powerful creatures was guiding,
+Urging them now, now holding them back; with skill did she drive them.
+
+[Illustration: HERMANN HANDS TO DOROTHEA THE LINEN FOR THE EMIGRANTS
+Ludwig Richter]
+
+Soon as the maiden perceived me, she calmly drew near to the horses,
+And in these words she addressed me: 'Not thus deplorable always
+Has our condition been, as to-day on this journey thou seest.
+I am not yet grown used to asking gifts of a stranger,
+Which he will often unwillingly give, to be rid of the beggar.
+But necessity drives me to speak; for here, on the straw, lies
+Newly delivered of child, a rich land-owner's wife, whom I scarcely
+Have in her pregnancy, safe brought off with the oxen and wagon.
+Naked, now in her arms the new-born infant is lying,
+And but little the help our friends will be able to furnish,
+If in the neighboring village, indeed, where to-day we would rest us,
+Still we shall find them; though much do I fear they already have
+                                                     passed it.
+Shouldst thou have linen to spare of any description, provided
+Thou of this neighborhood art, to the poor in charity give it.'
+
+"Thus she spoke, and the pale-faced mother raised herself feebly
+Up from the straw, and toward me looked. Then said I in answer
+'Surely unto the good, a spirit from heaven oft speaketh,
+Making them feel the distress that threatens a suffering brother.
+For thou must know that my mother, already presaging thy sorrows,
+Gave me a bundle to use it straightway for the need of the naked.'
+Then I untied the knots of the string, and the wrapper of father's
+Unto her gave, and gave her as well the shirts and the linen.
+And she thanked me with joy, and cried: 'The happy believe not
+Miracles yet can be wrought: for only in need we acknowledge
+God's own hand and finger, that leads the good to show goodness.
+What unto us He has done through thee, may He do to thee also!'
+And I beheld with what pleasure the sick woman handled the linens,
+But with especial delight the dressing-gown's delicate flannel.
+'Let us make haste,' the maid to her said, 'and come to the village,
+Where our people will halt for the night and already are resting.
+There these clothes for the children I, one and all, straightway
+                                                will portion.'
+Then she saluted again, her thanks most warmly expressing,
+Started the oxen; the wagon went on; but there I still lingered,
+Still held the horses in check; for now my heart was divided
+Whether to drive with speed to the village, and there the provisions
+Share 'mong the rest of the people, or whether I here to the maiden
+All should deliver at once, for her discreetly to portion.
+And in an instant my heart had decided, and quietly driving
+After the maiden, I soon overtook her, and said to her quickly:
+'Hearken, good maiden;--my mother packed up not linen-stuffs only
+Into the carriage, that I should have clothes to furnish the naked;
+Wine and beer she added besides, and supply of provisions:
+Plenty of all these things I have in the box of the carriage.
+But now I feel myself moved to deliver these offerings also
+Into thy hand; for so shall I best fulfil my commission.
+Thou wilt divide them with judgment, while I must by chance be directed.'
+Thereupon answered the maiden: 'I will with faithfulness portion
+These thy gifts, that all shall bring comfort to those who are needy.'
+Thus she spoke, and quickly the bog of the carriage I opened,
+Brought forth thence the substantial hams, and brought out the
+                                                 breadstuffs,
+Bottles of wine and beer, and one and all gave to the maiden.
+Willingly would I have given her more, but the carriage was empty.
+All she packed at the sick woman's feet, and went on her journey.
+I, with my horses and carriage, drove rapidly back to the city."
+
+Instantly now, when Hermann had ceased, the talkative neighbor
+Took up the word, and cried: "Oh happy, in days like the present,
+Days of flight and confusion, who lives by himself in his dwelling,
+Having no wife nor child to be clinging about him in terror!
+Happy I feel myself now, and would not for much be called father;
+Would not have wife and children to-day, for whom to be anxious.
+Oft have I thought of this flight before; and have packed up together
+All my best things already, the chains and old pieces of money
+That were my sainted mother's, of which not one has been sold yet.
+Much would be left behind, it is true, not easily gotten.
+Even the roots and the herbs, that were with such industry gathered,
+I should be sorry to lose, though the worth of the goods is but trifling.
+If my purveyor remained, I could go from my dwelling contented.
+When my cash I have brought away safe, and have rescued my person,
+All is safe: none find it so easy to fly as the single."
+
+"Neighbor," unto his words young Hermann with emphasis answered:
+"I can in no wise agree with thee here, and censure thy language.
+Is he indeed a man to be prized, who, in good and in evil,
+Takes no thought but for self, and gladness and sorrow with others
+Knows not how to divide, nor feels his heart so impel him?
+Rather than ever to-day would I make up my mind to be married:
+Many a worthy maiden is needing a husband's protection,
+And the man needs an inspiriting wife when ill is impending."
+
+Thereupon smiling the father replied: "Thus love I to hear thee!
+That is a sensible word such as rarely I've known thee to utter."
+Straightway, however, the mother broke in with quickness, exclaiming:
+"Son, to be sure, thou art right! we parents have set the example;
+Seeing that not in our season of joy did we choose one another;
+Rather the saddest of hours it was that bound us together.
+Monday morning--I mind it well; for the day that preceded
+Came that terrible fire by which our city was ravaged--
+Twenty years will have gone. The day was a Sunday as this is;
+Hot and dry was the season; the water was almost exhausted.
+All the people were strolling abroad in their holiday dresses,
+'Mong the villages partly, and part in the mills and the taverns.
+And at the end of the city the flames began, and went coursing
+Quickly along the streets, creating a draught in their passage.
+Burned were the barns where the copious harvest already was garnered;
+Burned were the streets as far as the market; the house of my father,
+Neighbor to this, was destroyed, and this one also fell with it.
+Little we managed to save. I sat, that sorrowful night through,
+Outside the town on the common, to guard the beds and the boxes.
+Sleep overtook me at last, and when I again was awakened,
+Feeling the chill of the morning that always descends before sunrise,
+There were the smoke and the glare, and the walls and chimneys in ruins.
+Then fell a weight on my heart; but more majestic than ever
+Came up the sun again, inspiring my bosom with courage.
+Then I rose hastily up, with a yearning the place to revisit
+Whereon our dwelling had stood, and to see if the hens had been rescued,
+Which I especially loved, for I still was a child in my feelings.
+Thus as I over the still-smoking timbers of house and of court-yard
+Picked my way, and beheld the dwelling so ruined and wasted,
+Thou camest up to examine the place, from the other direction.
+Under the ruins thy horse in his stall had been buried; the rubbish
+Lay on the spot and the glimmering beams; of the horse we saw nothing.
+Thoughtful and grieving we stood there thus, each facing the other,
+Now that the wall was fallen that once had divided our court-yards.
+Thereupon thou by the hand didst take me, and speak to me, saying,--
+'Lisa, how camest thou hither? Go back! thy soles must be burning;
+Hot the rubbish is here: it scorches my boots, which are stronger.'
+And thou didst lift me up, and carry me out through thy court-yard.
+There was the door of the house left standing yet with its archway,
+Just as 'tis standing now, the one thing only remaining.
+Then thou didst set me down and kiss me; to that I objected;
+But thou didst answer and say with kindly significant language:
+'See! my house lies in ruins: remain here and help me rebuild it;
+So shall my help in return be given to building thy father's.'
+Yet did I not comprehend thee until thou sentest thy mother
+Unto my father, and quick were the happy espousals accomplished.
+E'en to this day I remember with joy those half-consumed timbers,
+And I can see once more the sun coming up in such splendor;
+For 'twas the day that gave me my husband; and, ere the first season
+Passed of that wild desolation, a son to my youth had been given.
+Therefore I praise thee, Hermann, that thou, with an honest assurance,
+Shouldst, in these sorrowful days, be thinking thyself of a maiden,
+And amid ruins and war shouldst thus have the courage to woo her."
+
+Straightway, then, and with warmth, the father replied to her, saying:
+"Worthy of praise is the feeling, and truthful also the story,
+Mother, that thou hast related; for so indeed every thing happened.
+Better, however, is better. It is not the business of all men
+Thus their life and estate to begin from the very foundation:
+Every one needs not to worry himself as we and the rest did.
+Oh, how happy is he whose father and mother shall give him,
+Furnished and ready, a house which he can adorn with his increase.
+Every beginning is hard; but most the beginning a household.
+Many are human wants, and every thing daily grows dearer,
+So that a man must consider the means of increasing his earnings.
+This I hope therefore of thee, my Hermann, that into our dwelling
+Thou wilt be bringing ere long a bride who is handsomely dowered;
+For it is meet that a gallant young man have an opulent maiden.
+Great is the comfort of home whene'er, with the woman elected,
+Enter the useful presents, besides, in box and in basket.
+Not for this many a year in vain has the mother been busy
+Making her daughter's linens of strong and delicate texture;
+God-parents have not in vain been giving their vessels of silver,
+And the father laid by in his desk the rare pieces of money;
+For there a day will come when she, with her gifts and possessions,
+Shall that youth rejoice who has chosen her out of all others.
+Well do I know how good in a house is a woman's position,
+Who her own furniture round her knows, in kitchen and chamber;
+Who herself the bed and herself the table has covered.
+Only a well-dowered bride should I like to receive to my dwelling.
+She who is poor is sure, in the end, to be scorned by her husband;
+And will as servant be held, who as servant came in with her bundle.
+Men will remain unjust when the season of love is gone over.
+Yes, my Hermann, thy father's old age thou greatly canst gladden,
+If thou a daughter-in-law will speedily bring to my dwelling,
+Out of the neighborhood here,--from the house over yonder, the green one.
+Rich is the man, I can tell thee. His manufactures and traffic
+Daily are making him richer; for whence draws the merchant not profit?
+Three daughters only he has, to divide his fortune among them.
+True that the eldest already is taken; but there is the second
+Still to be had, as well as the third; and not long so, it may be.
+I would never have lingered till now, had I been in thy place;
+But had fetched one of the maidens, as once I bore off thy dear mother."
+
+Modestly then did the son to the urgent father make answer:
+"Truly 'twas my wish too, as well as thine own, to have chosen
+One of our neighbor's daughters, for we had been brought up together;
+Played, in the early days, about the market-place fountain;
+And, from the other boys' rudeness, I often have been their defender.
+That, though, is long since past: the girls, as they grew to be older,
+Properly stayed in the house, and shunned the more boisterous pastimes.
+Well brought up are they, surely! I used sometimes to go over,
+Partly to gratify thee, and because of our former acquaintance:
+But no pleasure I ever could take in being among them;
+For I was always obliged to endure their censures upon me.
+Quite too long was my coat, the cloth too coarse, and the color
+Quite too common; my hair was not cropped, as it should be, and frizzled.
+I was resolved, at last, that I, also, would dress myself finely,
+Just as those office-boys do who always are seen there on Sundays,
+Wearing in summer their half-silken flaps, that dangle about them;
+But I discovered, betimes, they made ever a laughing-stock of me.
+And I was vexed when I saw it,--it wounded my pride; but more deeply
+Felt I aggrieved that they the good-will should so far misinterpret
+That in my heart I bore them,--especially Minna the youngest.
+It was on Easter-day that last I went over to see them;
+Wearing my best new coat, that is now hanging up in the closet,
+And having frizzled my hair, like that of the other young fellows.
+Soon as I entered, they tittered; but that not at me, as I fancied.
+Minna before the piano was seated; the father was present,
+Hearing his daughters sing, and full of delight and good-humor.
+Much I could not understand of all that was said in the singing;
+But of Pamina I often heard, and oft of Tamino:
+And I, besides, could not stay there dumb; so, as soon as she ended,
+Something about the words I asked, and about the two persons.
+Thereupon all were silent and smiled; but the father made answer:
+'Thou knowest no one, my friend, I believe, but Adam and Eve?'
+No one restrained himself longer, but loud laughed out then the maidens,
+Loud laughed out the boys, the old man held his sides for his laughing.
+I, in embarrassment, dropped my hat, and the giggling continued,
+On and on and on, for all they kept playing and singing.
+Back to the house here I hurried, o'ercome with shame and vexation,
+Hung up my coat in the closet, and pulled out the curls with my fingers,
+Swearing that never again my foot should cross over that threshold.
+And I was perfectly right; for vain are the maidens, and heartless.
+E'en to this day, as I hear, I am called by them ever 'Tamino.'"
+
+Thereupon answered the mother, and said: "Thou shouldest not, Hermann,
+Be so long vexed with the children: indeed, they are all of them children.
+Minna, believe me, is good, and was always disposed to thee kindly.
+'Twas not long since she was asking about thee. Let her be thy chosen!"
+
+Thoughtfully answered the son: "I know not. That mortification
+Stamped itself in me so deeply, I never could bear to behold her
+Seated before the piano or listen again to her singing."
+
+Forth broke the father then, and in words of anger made answer:
+"Little of joy will my life have in thee! I said it would be so
+When I perceived that thy pleasure was solely in horses and farming:
+Work which a servant, indeed, performs for an opulent master,
+That thou doest; the father meanwhile must his son be deprived of,
+Who should appear as his pride, in the sight of the rest of the townsmen.
+Early with empty hopes thy mother was wont to deceive me,
+When in the school thy studies, thy reading and writing, would never
+As with the others succeed, but thy seat would be always the lowest.
+That comes about, forsooth, when a youth has no feeling of honor
+Dwelling within his breast, nor the wish to raise himself higher.
+Had but my father so cared for me as thou hast been cared for;
+If he had sent me to school, and provided me thus with instructors,
+I should be other, I trow, than host of the Golden Lion!"
+
+Then the son rose from his seat and noiselessly moved to the doorway,
+Slowly, and speaking no word. The father, however, in passion
+After him called, "Yes, go, thou obstinate fellow! I know thee!
+Go and look after the business henceforth, that I have not to chide thee;
+But do thou nowise imagine that ever a peasant-born maiden
+Thou for a daughter-in-law shalt bring into my dwelling, the hussy!
+Long have I lived in the world, and know how mankind should be dealt with;
+Know how to entertain ladies and gentlemen so that contented
+They shall depart from my house, and strangers agreeably can flatter.
+Yet I'm resolved that some day I one will have for a daughter,
+Who shall requite me in kind and sweeten my manifold labors;
+Who the piano shall play to me, too; so that there shall with pleasure
+All the handsomest people in town and the finest assemble,
+As they on Sundays do now in the house of our neighbor." Here Hermann
+Softly pressed on the latch, and so went out from the chamber.
+
+
+THALIA
+
+THE CITIZENS
+
+Thus did the modest son slip away from the angry up-braiding;
+But in the tone he had taken at first, the father continued:
+"That comes not out of a man which he has not in him; and hardly
+Shall the joy ever be mine of seeing my dearest wish granted:
+That my son may not as his father be, but a better.
+What would become of the house, and what of the city if each one
+Were not with pleasure and always intent on maintaining, renewing,
+Yea, and improving, too, as time and the foreigner teach us!
+Man is not meant, forsooth, to grow from the ground like a mushroom,
+Quickly to perish away on the spot of ground that begot him,
+Leaving no trace behind of himself and his animate action!
+As by the house we straightway can tell the mind of the master,
+So, when we walk through a city, we judge of the persons who rule it.
+For where the towers and walls are falling to ruin; where offal
+Lies in heaps in the gutters, and alleys with offal are littered;
+Where from its place has started the stone, and no one resets it;
+Where the timbers are rotting away, and the house is awaiting
+Vainly its new supports,--that place we may know is ill governed.
+Since if not from above work order and cleanliness downward,
+Easily grows the citizen used to untidy postponement;
+Just as the beggar grows likewise used to his ragged apparel.
+Therefore I wished that our Hermann might early set out on some travels;
+That he at least might behold the cities of Strasburg and Frankfort,
+Friendly Mannheim, too, that is cheerful and evenly builded.
+He that has once beheld cities so cleanly and large, never after
+Ceases his own native city, though small it may be, to embellish.
+Do not the strangers who come here commend the repairs in our gateway,
+Notice our whitewashed tower, and the church we have newly rebuilded?
+Are not all praising our pavement? the covered canals full of water,
+Laid with a wise distribution, which furnish us profit and safety,
+So that no sooner does fire break out than 'tis promptly arrested?
+Has not all this come to pass since the time of our great conflagration?
+Builder I six times was named by the council, and won the approval,
+Won moreover the heartfelt thanks of all the good burghers,
+Actively carrying out what I planned, and also fulfilling
+What had by upright men been designed, and left uncompleted.
+Finally grew the same zeal in every one of the council;
+All now labor together, and firmly decided already
+Stands it to build the new causeway that shall with the high-road
+                                                     connect us.
+But I am sorely afraid that will not be the way with our children.
+Some think only of pleasure and perishable apparel;
+Others will cower at home, and behind the stove will sit brooding.
+One of this kind, as I fear, we shall find to the last in our Hermann."
+
+Straightway answered and said the good and intelligent mother:
+"Why wilt thou always, father, be doing our son such injustice?
+That least of all is the way to bring thy wish to fulfilment.
+We have no power to fashion our children as suiteth our fancy;
+As they are given by God, we so must have them and love them;
+Teach them as best we can, and let each of them follow his nature.
+One will have talents of one sort, and different talents another.
+Every one uses his own; in his own individual fashion,
+Each must be happy and good. I will not have my Hermann found fault with;
+For he is worthy, I know, of the goods he shall one day inherit;
+Will be an excellent landlord, a pattern to burghers and builders;
+Neither in council, as I can foresee, will he be the most backward.
+But thou keepest shut up in his breast all the poor fellow's spirit,
+Finding such fault with him daily, and censuring as thou but now hast."
+And on the instant she quitted the room, and after him hurried,
+Hoping she somewhere might find him, and might with her words of affection
+Cheer him again, her excellent son, for well he deserved it.
+
+Thereupon when she was gone, the father thus smiling continued:
+"What a strange folk, to be sure, are these women; and just like
+                                                 the children;
+Both of them bent upon living according as suiteth their pleasure,
+While we others must never do aught but flatter and praise them.
+Once for all time holds good the ancients' trustworthy proverb:
+'Whoever goes not forward comes backward.' So must it be always."
+Thereupon answered and said, in a tone of reflection, the doctor:
+"That, sir neighbor, I willingly grant; for myself I am always
+Casting about for improvement,--things new, so they be not too costly.
+
+[Illustration: THE MOTHER DEFENDING HERMANN Ludwig Richter]
+
+But what profits a man, who has not abundance of money,
+Being thus active and stirring, and bettering inside and outside?
+Only too much is the citizen cramped: the good, though he know it,
+Has he no means to acquire because too slender his purse is,
+While his needs are too great; and thus is he constantly hampered.
+Many things I had done; but then the cost of such changes
+Who does not fear, especially now in this season of danger?
+Long since my house was smiling upon me in modish apparel!
+Long since great panes of glass were gleaming in all of the windows!
+But who can do as the merchant does, who, with his resources,
+Knows the methods as well by which the best is arrived at?
+Look at that house over yonder,--the new one; behold with what splendor
+'Gainst the background of green stand out the white spirals of stucco!
+Great are the panes in the windows; and how the glass sparkles
+                                                and glitters,
+Casting quite into the shade the rest of the market-place houses!
+Yet just after the fire were our two houses the finest,
+This of the Golden Lion, and mine of the sign of the Angel.
+So was my garden, too, throughout the whole neighborhood famous:
+Every traveller stopped and gazed through the red palisadoes,
+Caught by the beggars there carved in stone and the dwarfs of
+                                             bright colors.
+Then whosoever had coffee served in the beautiful grotto,--
+Standing there now all covered with dust and partly in ruins,--
+Used to be mightily pleased with the glimmering light of the mussels
+Spread out in beautiful order; and even the eye of the critic
+Used by the sight of my corals and potter's ore to be dazzled.
+So in my parlor, too, they would always admire the painting,
+Where in a garden are gaily dressed ladies and gentlemen walking,
+And with their taper fingers are plucking and holding the flowers.
+But who would look at it now! In sooth, so great my vexation
+Scarcely I venture abroad. All now must be other and tasteful,
+So they call it; and white are the laths and benches of woodwork;
+Everything simple and smooth; no carving longer or gilding
+Can be endured, and the woods from abroad are of all the most costly.
+Well, I, too, should be glad could I get for myself something novel;
+Glad to keep up with the times, and be changing my furniture often;
+Yet must we all be afraid of touching the veriest trifle.
+For who among us has means for paying the work-people's wages?
+Lately I had an idea of giving the Archangel Michael,
+Making the sign of my shop, another fresh coating of gilding,
+And to the terrible dragon about his feet that is winding;
+But I e'en let him stay browned as he is: I dreaded the charges."
+
+
+EUTERPE
+
+MOTHER AND SON
+
+Thus entertaining themselves, the men sat talking. The mother
+Went meanwhile to look for her son in front of the dwelling,
+First on the settle of stone, whereon 'twas his wont to be seated.
+When she perceived him not there, she went farther to look in the stable,
+If he were caring perhaps for his noble horses, the stallions,
+Which he as colts had bought, and whose care he intrusted to no one.
+And by the servant she there was told: He is gone to the garden.
+Then with a nimble step she traversed the long, double court-yards,
+Leaving the stables behind, and the well-builded barns, too, behind her;
+Entered the garden, that far as the walls of the city extended;
+Walked through its length, rejoiced as she went in every thing growing;
+Set upright the supports on which were resting the branches
+Heavily laden with apples, and burdening boughs of the pear-tree.
+Next some caterpillars removed from a stout, swelling cabbage;
+For an industrious woman allows no step to be wasted.
+Thus was she come at last to the end of the far-reaching garden,
+Where stood the arbor embowered in woodbine; nor there did she find him,
+More than she had hitherto in all her search through the garden.
+But the wicket was standing ajar, which out of the arbor,
+Once by particular favor, had been through the walls of the city
+Cut by a grandsire of hers, the worshipful burgomaster.
+So the now dried-up moat she next crossed over with comfort,
+Where, by the side of the road, direct the well-fenced vine-yard,
+Rose with a steep ascent, its slope exposed to the sunshine.
+Up this also she went, and with pleasure as she was ascending
+Marked the wealth of the clusters, that scarce by their leafage
+                                                  were hidden.
+Shady and covered the way through the lofty middlemost alley,
+Which upon steps that were made of unhewn blocks you ascended.
+There were the Muscatel, and there were the Chasselas hanging
+Side by side, of unusual size and colored with purple,
+All set out with the purpose of decking the visitor's table;
+While with single vine-stocks the rest of the hillside was covered,
+Bearing inferior clusters, from which the delicate wine comes.
+Thus up the slopes she went, enjoying already the vintage,
+And that festive day on which the whole country, rejoicing,
+Picks and tramples the grapes, and gathers the must into vessels:
+Fireworks, when it is evening, from every direction and corner
+Crackle and blaze, and so the fairest of harvests is honored.
+But more uneasy she went, her son after twice or thrice calling,
+And no answer receiving, except from the talkative echo,
+That with many repeats rang back from the towers of the city.
+Strange it was for her to seek him; he never had gone to a distance
+That he told her not first, to spare his affectionate mother
+Every anxious thought, and fear that aught ill had befallen.
+Still did she constantly hope that, if further she went, she should
+                                                         find him;
+For the two doors of the vineyard, the lower as well as the upper,
+Both were alike standing open. So now she entered the corn-field,
+That with its broad expanse the ridge of the hill covered over.
+Still was the ground that she walked on her own; and the crops she
+                                                  rejoiced in,--
+All of them still were hers, and hers was the proud-waving grain, too,
+Over the whole broad field in golden strength that was stirring.
+Keeping the ridgeway, the footpath, between the fields she went onward,
+Having the lofty pear-tree in view, which stood on the summit,
+And was the boundary-mark of the fields that belonged to her dwelling.
+Who might have planted it, none could know, but visible was it
+Far and wide through the country; the fruit of the pear-tree was famous.
+'Neath it the reapers were wont to enjoy their meal at the noon-day,
+And the shepherds were used to tend their flocks in its shadow.
+Benches of unhewn stones and of turf they found set about it.
+And she had not been mistaken, for there sat her Hermann, and rested,--
+Sat with his head on his hand, and seemed to be viewing the landscape
+That to the mountains lay: his back was turned to his mother.
+Toward him softly she crept, and lightly touched on the shoulder;
+Quick he turned himself round; there were tears in his eyes as he met her.
+
+"Mother, how hast thou surprised me!" he said in confusion; and quickly
+Wiped the high-spirited youth his tears away. But the mother,
+"What! do I find thee weeping, my son?" exclaimed in amazement.
+"Nay, that is not like thyself: I never before have so seen thee!
+Tell me, what burdens thy heart? what drives thee here, to be sitting
+Under the pear-tree alone? These tears in thine eyes, what has
+                                              brought them?"
+
+Then, collecting himself, the excellent youth made her answer:
+"Truly no heart can that man have in his bosom of iron,
+Who is insensible now to the needs of this emigrant people;
+He has no brains in his head, who not for his personal safety,
+Not for his fatherland's weal, in days like the present is anxious.
+Deeply my heart had been touched by the sights and sounds of the morning;
+Then I went forth and beheld the broad and glorious landscape
+Spreading its fertile slopes in every direction about us,
+Saw the golden grain inclining itself to the reapers,
+And the promise of well-filled barns from the plentiful harvest.
+
+[Illustration:  MOTHER AND SON Ludwig Richter]
+
+But, alas, how near is the foe! The Rhine with its waters
+Guards us, indeed; but, ah, what now are rivers and mountains
+'Gainst that terrible people that onward bears like a tempest!
+For they summon their youths from every quarter together,
+Call up their old men too, and press with violence forward.
+Death cannot frighten the crowd: one multitude follows another.
+And shall a German dare to linger behind in his homestead?
+Hopes he perhaps to escape the everywhere threatened evil?
+Nay, dear mother, I tell thee, today has made me regretful
+That I was lately exempt, when out of our townsmen were chosen
+Those who should serve in the army. An only son I am truly,
+Also our business is great, and the charge of our household is weighty.
+Yet were it better, I deem, in the front to offer resistance
+There on the border, than here to await disaster and bondage.
+So has my spirit declared, and deep in my innermost bosom
+Courage and longing have now been aroused to live for my country,
+Yea, and to die, presenting to others a worthy example.
+If but the strength of Germany's youth were banded together
+There on the frontier, resolved that it never would yield to the stranger,
+Ah, he should not on our glorious soil be setting his footsteps,
+Neither consuming before our eyes the fruit of our labor,
+Ruling our men, and making his prey of our wives and our daughters.
+Hark to me, mother: for I in the depths of my heart am determined
+Quickly to do, and at once, what appears to me right and in reason;
+For he chooses not always the best who longest considers.
+Hearken, I shall not again return to the house; but directly
+Go from this spot to the city, and there present to the soldiers
+This right arm and this heart, to be spent in the fatherland's service.
+Then let my father say if there be no feeling of honor
+Dwelling within my breast, nor a wish to raise myself higher."
+
+Then with significant words spoke the good and intelligent mother,
+While from her eyes the quick-starting tears were silently falling:
+"Son, what change has come o'er thee today, and over thy temper,
+That thou speakest no more, as thou yesterday didst, and hast always,
+Open and free, to thy mother, and tellest exactly thy wishes?
+Any one else, had he heard thee thus speak, would in sooth have commended,
+And this decision of thine would have highly approved as most noble,
+Being misled by thy tone and by thy significant language.
+Yet have I nothing but censure to speak; for better I know thee.
+Thou concealest thy heart, and thy thoughts are not such as thou tellest.
+Well do I know that it is not the drum, not the trumpet that calls thee:
+Neither in uniform wouldst thou figure in sight of the maidens;
+Since, for all thou art honest and brave, it is thy vocation
+Here in quiet to care for the farm and provide for the household.
+Tell me honestly, therefore, what goads thee to such a decision?"
+
+ Earnestly answered the son: "Nay, thou art mistaken, dear mother:
+One day is not like another. The youth matures into manhood:
+Better in stillness oft ripening to deeds than when in the tumult
+Wildering and wild of existence, that many a youth has corrupted.
+And, for as still as I am and was always, there yet in my bosom
+Has such a heart been shaped as abhors all wrong and injustice;
+And I have learned aright between worldly things to distinguish.
+Arm and foot, besides, have been mightily strengthened by labor.
+All this, I feel, is true: I dare with boldness maintain it.
+Yet dost thou blame me with reason, O mother! for thou hast surprised me
+Using a language half truthful and half that of dissimulation.
+For, let me honestly own,--it is not the near danger that calls me
+Forth from my father's house; nor is it the lofty ambition
+Helpful to be to my country, and terrible unto the foeman.
+They were but words that I spoke: they only were meant for concealing
+Those emotions from thee with which my heart is distracted;
+And so leave me, O mother! for, since the wishes are fruitless
+Which in my bosom I cherish, my life must go fruitlessly over.
+For, as I know, he injures himself who is singly devoted,
+When for the common cause the whole are not working together."
+
+ "Hesitate not," replied thereupon the intelligent mother,
+"Every thing to relate me, the smallest as well as the greatest.
+Men will always be hasty, their thoughts to extremes ever running:
+Easily out of their course the hasty are turned by a hindrance.
+Whereas a woman is clever in thinking of means, and will venture
+E'en on a roundabout way, adroitly to compass her object.
+Let me know every thing, then; say wherefore so greatly excited
+As I ne'er saw thee before, why thy blood is coursing so hotly,
+Wherefore, against thy will, tears are filling thine eyes to o'erflowing."
+
+Then he abandoned himself, the poor boy, to his sorrow, and weeping,
+Weeping aloud on his kind mother's breast, he brokenly answered:
+"Truly my father's words today have wounded me sorely,--
+Words which I have not deserved; not today, nor at any time have I:
+For it was early my greatest delight to honor my parents.
+No one knew more, so I deemed, or was wiser than those who begot me,
+And had with strictness ruled throughout the dark season of childhood.
+Many the things, in truth, I with patience endured from my playmates,
+When the good-will that I bore them they often requited with malice.
+Often I suffered their flings and their blows to pass unresented;
+But if they ventured to ridicule father, when he of a Sunday
+Home from Church would come, with his solemn and dignified bearing;
+If they made fun of his cap-string, or laughed at the flowers of
+                                                   the wrapper
+He with such stateliness wore, which was given away but this morning--
+Threateningly doubled my fist in an instant; with furious passion
+Fell I upon them, and struck out and hit, assailing them blindly,
+Seeing not where. They howled as the blood gushed out from their noses:
+Scarcely they made their escape from my passionate kicking and beating.
+Then, as I older grew, I had much to endure from my father;
+Violent words he oft vented on me, instead of on others,
+When, at the board's last session, the council had roused his displeasure,
+And I was made to atone for the quarrels and wiles of his colleagues.
+Thou has pitied me often thyself; for much did I suffer,
+Ever remembering with cordial respect the kindness of parents,
+Solely intent on increasing for us their goods and possessions,
+Much denying themselves in order to save for their children.
+But, alas! saving alone, for the sake of a tardy enjoyment,--
+That is not happiness: pile upon pile, and acre on acre,
+Make us not happy, no matter how fair our estates may be rounded.
+For the father grows old, and with him will grow old the children,
+Losing the joy of the day, and bearing the care of tomorrow.
+Look thou below, and see how before us in glory are lying,
+Fair and abundant, the corn-fields; beneath them, the vineyard and garden;
+Yonder the stables and barns; our beautiful line of possessions.
+But when I look at the dwelling behind, where up in the gable
+We can distinguish the window that marks my room in the attic;
+When I look back, and remember how many a night from that window
+I for the moon have watched; for the sun, how many a morning!
+When the healthful sleep of a few short hours sufficed me,--
+Ah, so lonely they seem to me then, the chamber and courtyard,
+Garden and glorious field, away o'er the hill that is stretching;
+All so desert before me lie: 'tis the wife that is wanting."
+
+Thereupon spoke the good mother, and thus with intelligence answered:
+"Son, not greater thy wish to bring thee a bride to thy chamber,
+That thou mayst find thy nights a beautiful part of existence,
+And that the work of the day may gain independence and freedom,
+Than is thy father's wish too, and thy mother's. We always have
+                                                 counselled,--
+Yea, we have even insisted,--that thou shouldst elect thee a maiden.
+But I was ever aware, and now my heart gives me assurance,
+That till the hour appointed is come, and the maiden appointed
+Shall with the hour appear, the choice will be left for the future,
+While more strong than all else will be fear of grasping the wrong one.
+If I may say it, my son, I believe thou already hast chosen;
+For thy heart has been touched, and been made more than wontedly tender.
+Speak it out honestly, then; for my soul has told me before-hand:
+That same maiden it is, the exile, whom thou hast elected."
+
+"Thou hast said, mother!" the son thereupon with eagerness answered.
+"Yes, it is she; and if I today as my bride do not bring her
+Home to our dwelling, she from me will go, perhaps vanish for ever,
+Lost in the war's confusion and sad movings hither and thither.
+Mother, forever in vain would then our abundant possessions
+Prosper before me, and seasons to come be in vain to me fruitful.
+Yea, I should hold in aversion the wonted house and the garden:
+Even my mother's love, alas! would not comfort my sorrow.
+Every tie, so I feel in my heart, by love is unloosened
+Soon as she fastens her own; and not the maid is it only
+Leaves behind father and mother, to follow the man she has chosen.
+He too, the youth, no longer knows aught of mother and father,
+When he the maiden, his only beloved, sees vanishing from him.
+Suffer me, then, to go hence wherever despair shall impel me:
+Since by my father himself the decisive words have been spoken;
+Since his house can no longer be mine if he shut out the maiden,
+Her whom alone as my bride I desire to bring to our dwelling."
+
+Thereupon quickly made answer the good and intelligent mother:
+"How like to rocks, forsooth, two men will stand facing each other!
+Proud and not to be moved, will neither draw near to his fellow;
+Neither will stir his tongue to utter the first word of kindness.
+Therefore I tell thee, my son, a hope yet lives in my bosom,
+So she be honest and good, thy father will let thee espouse her,
+Even though poor, and against a poor girl so decisive his sentence.
+Many a thing he is wont to speak out in his violent fashion
+Which he yet never performs; and so what he denies will consent to.
+Yet he requires a kindly word, and is right to require it:
+He is the father! Besides, we know that his wrath after dinner,--
+When he most hastily speaks, and questions all others' opinions,--
+Signifies naught; the full force of his violent will is excited
+Then by the wine, which lets him not heed the language of others;
+None but himself does he see and feel. But now is come evening,
+Talk upon various subjects has passed between him and his neighbors.
+Gentle, he is; I am sure, now his little excitement is over,
+And he can feel how unjust his passion has made him to others.
+Come, let us venture at once: success is alone to the valiant!
+Further we need the friends, still sitting together there with him;
+And in especial the worthy pastor will give us assistance."
+
+Thus she hastily spoke, and up from the stone then arising,
+Drew from his seat her son, who willingly followed. In silence
+Both descended the hill, their important purpose revolving.
+
+
+POLYHYMNIA
+
+THE CITIZEN OF THE WORLD
+
+There the three men, however, still sat conversing together,
+With mine host of the Lion, the village doctor, and pastor;
+And their talk was still on the same unvarying subject,
+Turning it this way and that, and viewing from every direction.
+But with his sober judgment the excellent pastor made answer:
+"Here will I not contradict you. I know that man should be always
+Striving for that which is better; indeed, as we see, he is reaching
+Always after the higher, at least some novelty craving.
+But be careful ye go not too far, for with this disposition
+Nature has given us pleasure in holding to what is familiar;
+Taught us in that to delight to which we have long been accustomed.
+Every condition is good that is founded on reason and nature.
+Many are man's desires, yet little it is that he needeth;
+Seeing the days are short and mortal destiny bounded.
+Ne'er would I censure the man whom a restless activity urges,
+Bold and industrious, over all pathways of land and of ocean,
+Ever untiring to roam; who takes delight in the riches,
+Heaping in generous abundance about himself and his children.
+Yet not unprized by me is the quiet citizen also,
+Making the noiseless round of his own inherited acres,
+Tilling the ground as the ever-returning seasons command him.
+Not with every year is the soil transfigured about him;
+Not in haste does the tree stretch forth, as soon as 'tis planted,
+Full-grown arms toward heaven and decked with plenteous blossoms.
+No: man has need of patience, and needful to him are also
+Calmness and clearness of mind, and a pure and right understanding.
+Few are the seeds he intrusts to earth's all-nourishing bosom;
+Few are the creatures he knows how to raise and bring to perfection.
+Centred are all his thoughts alone on that which is useful.
+Happy to whom by nature a mind of such temper is given,
+For he supports us all! And hail, to the man whose abode is
+Where in a town the country pursuits with the city are blended.
+On him lies not the pressure that painfully hampers the farmer,
+Nor is he carried away by the greedy ambition of cities;
+Where they of scanty possessions too often are given to aping,
+Wives and daughters especially, those who are higher and richer.
+Blessed be therefore thy son in his life of quiet employment;
+Blessed the wife, of like mind with himself, whom he one day shall
+                                                     choose him."
+
+Thus he spoke; and scarce had he ended when entered the mother,
+Holding her son by the hand, and so led him up to her husband.
+"Father," she said, "how oft when we two have been chatting together,
+Have we rejoiced in the thought of Hermann's future espousal,
+When he should bring his bride to be the light of our dwelling!
+Over and over again the matter we pondered: this maiden
+Fixing upon for him first, and then that, with the gossip of parents.
+But that day is now come; and Heaven at last has the maiden
+Brought to him hither, and shown him; and now his heart has decided.
+Said we not always then he should have his own choice in the matter?
+Was it not just now thy wish that he might with lively affection
+Feel himself drawn to some maiden? The hour is come that we hoped for.
+Yes; he has felt and has chosen and come to a manly decision.
+That same maiden it is that met him this morning, the stranger:
+Say he may have her, or else, as he swears, his life shall be single."
+
+"Give her me, father," so added the son: "my heart has elected
+Clear and sure; she will be to you both the noblest of daughters."
+
+But the father was silent. Then hastily rose the good pastor,
+Took up the word and said: "The moment alone is decisive;
+Fixes the life of man, and his future destiny settles.
+After long taking of counsel, yet only the work of a moment
+Every decision must be; and the wise alone seizes the right one.
+Dangerous always it is comparing the one with the other
+When we are making our choice, and so confusing our feelings.
+Hermann is pure. From childhood up I have known him, and never
+E'en as a boy was he wont to be reaching for this and the other:
+What he desired was best for him too, and he held to it firmly.
+Be not surprised and alarmed that now has appeared of a sudden,
+What thou hast wished for so long. It is true that the present appearance
+Bears not the form of the wish, exactly as thou hadst conceived it:
+For our wishes oft hide from ourselves the object we wish for;
+Gifts come down from above in the shapes appointed by Heaven.
+Therefore misjudge not the maiden who now of thy dearly beloved,
+Good and intelligent son has been first to touch the affections:
+Happy to whom at once his first love's hand shall be given,
+And in whose heart no tenderest wish must secretly languish.
+Yes: his whole bearing assures me that now his fate is decided.
+Genuine love matures in a moment the youth into manhood;
+He is not easily moved; and I fear that if this be refused him,
+Sadly his years will go by, those years that should be the fairest."
+
+Straightway then in a thoughtful tone the doctor made answer,
+On whose tongue for a long time past the words had been trembling:
+"Pray let us here as before pursue the safe middle course only.
+Make haste slowly: that was Augustus the emperor's motto.
+Willingly I myself place at my well-beloved neighbor's disposal,
+Ready to do him what service I can with my poor understanding.
+Youth most especially stands in need of some one to guide it.
+Let me therefore go forth that I may examine the maiden,
+And may question the people among whom she lives and who know her.
+Me 'tis not easy to cheat: I know how words should be valued."
+
+Straightway the son broke in, and with wingèd words made he answer:
+"Do so, neighbor, and go and make thine inquiries; but with thee
+I should be glad if our minister here were joined in the errand:
+Two such excellent men would be irreproachable judges.
+O my father! believe me, she's none of those wandering maidens,
+Not one of those who stroll through the land in search of adventure,
+And who seek to ensnare inexperienced youth in their meshes.
+No: the hard fortunes of war, that universal destroyer,
+Which is convulsing the earth and has hurled from its deep foundations
+Many a structure already, have sent the poor girl into exile.
+Are not now men of high birth, the most noble, in misery roaming?
+Princes fly in disguise and kings are in banishment living.
+So alas! also is she, the best among all of her sisters,
+Driven an exile from home; yet, her personal sorrows forgetting,
+She is devoted to others; herself without help, she is helpful.
+Great is the want and the suffering over the earth that are spreading:
+Shall not some happiness, too, be begotten of all this affliction,
+And shall not I in the arms of my wife, my trusted companion,
+Look back with joy to the war, as do ye to the great conflagration?"
+
+Outspoke the father then in a tone of decision, and answered:
+"Strangely thy tongue has been loosened, my son, which many a year past
+Seemed to have stuck in thy mouth, and only to move on compulsion!
+I must experience to-day, it would seem, what threatens all fathers,
+That the son's headstrong will the mother with readiness favors,
+Showing too easy indulgence; and every neighbor sides with them
+When there is aught to be carried against the father and husband.
+But I will not oppose you, thus banded together: how could I?
+For I already perceive here tears and defiance before-hand.
+Go ye therefore, inquire, in God's name, bring me the daughter.
+But if not so, then the boy is to think no more of the maiden."
+
+Thus the father. The son cried out with joyful demeanor,
+"Ere it is evening the noblest of daughters shall hither be brought you,
+Such as no man with sound sense in his breast can fail to be pleased with.
+Happy, I venture to hope, will be also the excellent maiden.
+Yes; she will ever be grateful for having had father and mother
+Given once more in you, and such as a child most delights in.
+Now I will tarry no longer, but straightway harness the horses,
+Drive forth our friends at once on the footsteps of my beloved,
+Leaving them then to act for themselves, as their wisdom shall dictate,
+Guide myself wholly, I promise, according to what they determine,
+And, until I may call her my own, ne'er look on the maiden."
+Thus he went forth: the others meanwhile remained in discussion,
+Rapid and earnest, considering deeply their great undertaking.
+
+Hermann hasted straightway to the stable, where quietly standing
+Found he the spirited stallions, the clean oats quickly devouring,
+And the well-dried hay that was cut from the richest of meadows.
+On them without delay the shining bits he adjusted,
+Hastily drew the straps through the buckles of beautiful plating,
+Firmly fastened then the long broad reins, and the horses
+Led without to the court-yard, whither the willing assistant
+Had with ease, by the pole, already drawn forward the carriage.
+Next to the whipple-tree they with care by the neatly kept traces
+Joined the impetuous strength of the freely travelling horses.
+Whip in hand took Hermann his seat and drove under the doorway.
+Soon as the friends straightway their commodious places had taken,
+Quickly the carriage rolled off, and left the pavement behind it,
+Left behind it the walls of the town and the fresh-whitened towers.
+Thus drove Hermann on till he came to the well-known causeway.
+Rapidly, loitering nowhere, but hastening up hill and down hill.
+But as he now before him perceived the spire of the village,
+And no longer remote the garden-girt houses were lying,
+Then in himself he thought that here he would rein up the horses.
+
+Under the solemn shade of lofty linden-trees lying,
+Which for centuries past upon this spot had been rooted,
+Spread in front of the village a broad and grass-covered common,
+Favorite place of resort for the peasants and neighboring townsfolk.
+Here, at the foot of the trees, sunk deep in the ground was a well-spring;
+When you descended the steps, stone benches you found at the bottom,
+Stationed about the spring, whose pure, living waters were bubbling
+Ceaselessly forth, hemmed in by low walls for convenience of drawing.
+Hermann resolved that here he would halt, with his horses and carriage,
+Under the shade of the trees. He did so, and said to the others:
+"Here alight, my friends, and go your ways to discover
+Whether the maiden in truth be worthy the hand that I offer.
+That she is so, I believe; naught new or strange will ye tell me.
+Had I to act for myself, I should go with speed to the village,
+Where a few words from the maiden's own lips should determine my fortune.
+Ye will with readiness single her out from all of the others,
+For there can scarcely be one that to her may be likened in bearing.
+But I will give you, besides, her modest attire for a token:
+Mark, then, the stomacher's scarlet, that sets off the arch of her bosom,
+Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fitting close to her figure;
+Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle,
+Which with a simple grace her chin's rounded outline encircles;
+Freely and lightly rises above it the head's dainty oval;
+And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided;
+Down from under her bodice, the full, blue petticoat falling,
+Wraps itself, when she is walking, about her neatly shaped ankles.
+Yet one thing will I say, and would make it my earnest petition,--
+Speak not yourselves with the maiden, nor let your intent be discovered;
+Rather inquire of others, and hearken to what they may tell you.
+When ye have tidings enough to satisfy father and mother,
+Then return to me here, and we will consider what further.
+So did I plan it all out in my mind while driving you hither."
+
+Thus he spoke. The friends thereupon went their way to the village,
+Where, in the houses and gardens and barns, the people were swarming;
+Wagons on wagons stood crowded together along the broad highway.
+Men for the harnessed horses and lowing cattle were caring,
+While the women were busy in drying their clothes on the hedges,
+And in the running brook the children were merrily splashing.
+Making their way through the pressure of wagons, of people and cattle,
+Went the commissioned spies, and to right and to left looked about them,
+If they a figure might see that answered the maiden's description;
+But not one of them all appeared the beautiful damsel.
+Denser soon grew the press. A contest arose round the wagons
+'Mongst the threatening men, wherein blended the cries of the women.
+Rapidly then to the spot, and with dignified step, came an elder,
+Joined the clamoring group, and straightway the uproar was silenced,
+As he commanded peace, and rebuked with a fatherly sternness.
+"Has, then, misfortune," he cried, "not yet so bound us together,
+That we have finally learned to bear and forbear one another,
+Though each one, it may be, do not measure his share of the labor?
+He that is happy, forsooth, is contentious! Will sufferings never
+Teach you to cease from your brawls of old between brother and brother?
+Grudge not one to another a place on the soil of the stranger;
+Rather divide what ye have, as yourselves ye would hope to find mercy."
+
+[Illustration: THE EMIGRANTS IN THE VILLAGE  Ludwig Richter]
+
+Thus spoke the man and all became silent: restored to good humor,
+Peaceably then the people arranged their cattle and wagons.
+But when the clergyman now had heard what was said by the stranger,
+And had the steadfast mind of the foreign justice discovered,
+He to the man drew near and with words of meaning addressed him:
+"True it is, father, that when in prosperity people are living,
+Feeding themselves from the earth, which far and wide opens her bosom,
+And in the years and months renews the coveted blessings,--
+All goes on of itself, and each himself deems the wisest,
+Deems the best, and so they continue abiding together,
+He of greatest intelligence ranking no higher than others;
+All that occurs, as if of itself, going quietly forward.
+But let disaster unsettle the usual course of existence,
+Tear down the buildings about us, lay waste the crops and the garden,
+Banish the husband and wife from their old, familiar-grown dwelling,
+Drive them to wander abroad through nights and days of privation,--
+Then, ah then! we look round us to see what man is the wisest,
+And no longer in vain his glorious words will be spoken.
+Tell me, art thou not judge among this fugitive people,
+Father, who thus in an instant canst bid their passions be quiet?
+Thou dost appear to-day as one of those earliest leaders,
+Who through deserts and wanderings guided the emigrant nations.
+Yea, I could even believe I were speaking with Joshua or Moses."
+
+Then with serious look the magistrate answered him, saying:
+"Truly our times might well be compared with all others in strangeness,
+Which are in history mentioned, profane or sacred tradition;
+For who has yesterday lived and to-day in times like the present,
+He has already lived years, events are so crowded together.
+If I look back but a little, it seems that my head must be hoary
+Under the burden of years, and yet my strength is still active.
+Well may we of this day compare ourselves unto that people
+Who, from the burning bush, beheld in the hour of their danger
+God the Lord: we also in cloud and in fire have beheld Him."
+
+Seeing the priest was inclined to speak yet more with the stranger,
+And was desirous of learning his story and that of his people,
+Privately into his ear his companion hastily whispered:
+"Talk with the magistrate further, and lead him to speak of the maiden.
+I, however, will wander in search, and as soon as I find her,
+Come and report to thee here." The minister nodded, assenting;
+And through the gardens, hedges, and barns, went the spy on his errand.
+
+
+CLIO
+
+THE AGE
+
+Now when the foreign judge had been by the minister questioned
+As to his people's distress, and how long their exile had lasted,
+Thus made answer the man: "Of no recent date are our sorrows;
+Since of the gathering bitter of years our people have drunken,--
+Bitterness all the more dreadful because such fair hope had been blighted.
+Who will pretend to deny that his heart swelled high in his bosom,
+And that his freer breast with purer pulses was beating,
+When we beheld the new sun arise in his earliest splendor,
+When of the rights of men we heard, which to all should be common,
+Were of a righteous equality told, and inspiriting freedom?
+Every one hoped that then he should live his own life, and the fetters,
+Binding the various lands, appeared their hold to be loosing,--
+Fetters that had in the hand of sloth been held and self-seeking.
+Looked not the eyes of all nations, throughout that calamitous season,
+Toward the world's capital city, for so it had long been considered,
+And of that glorious title was now, more than ever, deserving?
+Were not the names of those men who first delivered the message,
+Names to compare with the highest that under the heavens are spoken?
+Did not, in every man, grow courage and spirit and language?
+And, as neighbors, we, first of all, were zealously kindled.
+Thereupon followed the war, and armèd bodies of Frenchmen
+Pressed to us nearer; yet nothing but friendship they seemed to be
+                                                       bringing;
+Ay, and they brought it too; for exalted the spirit within them:
+They with rejoicing the festive trees of liberty planted,
+Promising every man what was his own, and to each his own ruling.
+High beat the heart of the youths, and even the aged were joyful;
+Gaily the dance began about the newly raised standard.
+Thus had they speedily won, these overmastering Frenchmen,
+First the spirits of men by the fire and dash of their bearing,
+Then the hearts of the women with irresistible graces.
+Even the pressure of hungry war seemed to weigh on us lightly,
+So before our vision did hope hang over the future,
+Luring our eyes abroad into newly opening pathways.
+Oh, how joyful the time when with her beloved the maiden
+Whirls in the dance, the longed-for day of their union awaiting!
+But more glorious that day on which to our vision the highest
+Heart of man can conceive seemed near and attainable to us.
+Loosened was every tongue, and men--the aged, the stripling--
+Spoke aloud in words that were full of high feeling and wisdom.
+Soon, however, the sky was o'ercast. A corrupt generation
+Fought for the right of dominion, unworthy the good to establish;
+So that they slew one another, their new-made neighbors and brothers
+Held in subjection, and then sent the self-seeking masses against us.
+Chiefs committed excesses and wholesale plunder upon us,
+While those lower plundered and rioted down to the lowest:
+Every one seemed but to care that something be left for the morrow.
+Great past endurance the need, and daily grew the oppression:
+They were the lords of the day; there was none to hear our complaining.
+Then fell trouble and rage upon even the quietest spirit.
+One thought only had all, and swore for their wrongs to have vengeance,
+And for the bitter loss of their hope thus doubly deluded.
+Presently Fortune turned and declared on the side of the German,
+And with hurried marches the French retreated before us.
+Ah! then as never before did we feel the sad fortunes of warfare:
+He that is victor is great and good,--or at least he appears so,--
+And he, as one of his own, will spare the man he has conquered,
+Him whose service he daily needs, and whose property uses.
+But no law the fugitive knows, save of self-preservation,
+And, with a reckless greed, consumes all the possessions about him;
+Then are his passions also inflamed: the despair that is in him
+Out of his heart breaks forth, and takes shape in criminal action.
+Nothing is further held sacred; but all is for plunder. His craving
+Turns in fury on woman, and pleasure is changed into horror.
+Death he sees everywhere round him, and madly enjoys his last moments,
+Taking delight in blood, in the shriekings of anguish exulting.
+Thereupon fiercely arose in our men the stern resolution
+What had been lost to avenge, and defend what'er was remaining.
+Every man sprang to his arms, by the flight of the foeman encouraged,
+And by his blanching cheeks, and his timorous, wavering glances.
+Ceaselessly now rang out the clanging peal of the tocsin.
+Thought of no danger to come restrained their furious anger.
+Quick into weapons of war the husbandman's peaceful utensils
+All were converted; dripped with blood the scythe and the ploughshare.
+Quarter was shown to none: the enemy fell without mercy.
+Fury everywhere raged and the cowardly cunning of weakness.
+Ne'er may I men so carried away by injurious passion
+See again! the sight of the raging wild beast would be better.
+Let not man prattle of freedom, as if himself he could govern!
+Soon as the barriers are torn away, then all of the evil
+Seems let loose, that by law had been driven deep back into corners."
+
+"Excellent man!" thereupon with emphasis answered the pastor:
+"Though thou misjudgest mankind, yet can I not censure thee for it.
+Evil enough, I confess, thou hast had to endure from man's passions.
+Yet wouldst thou look behind over this calamitous season,
+Thou wouldst acknowledge thyself how much good thou also hast witnessed.
+How many excellent things that would in the heart have lain hidden,
+Had not danger aroused them, and did not necessity's pressure
+Bring forth the angel in man, and make him a god of deliv'rance."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the reverend magistrate, smiling:
+"There thou remindest me aptly of how we console the poor fellow,
+After his house has been burned, by recounting the gold and the silver
+Melted and scattered abroad in the rubbish, that still is remaining.
+Little enough, it is true; but even that little is precious.
+Then will the poor wretch after it dig and rejoice if he find it.
+Thus I likewise with happier thoughts will gratefully turn me
+Toward the few beautiful deeds of which I preserve the remembrance.
+Yes, I will not deny, I have seen old quarrels forgotten,
+Ill to avert from the state; I also have witnessed how friendship,
+Love of parent and child, can impossibilities venture;
+Seen how the stripling at once matured into man; how the aged
+Grew again young; and even the child into youth was developed,
+Yea, and the weaker sex too, as we are accustomed to call it,
+Showed itself brave and strong and ready for every emergence.
+Foremost among them all, one beautiful deed let me mention,
+Bravely performed by the hand of a girl, an excellent maiden,
+Who, with those younger than she, had been left in charge of a farmhouse,
+Since there, also, the men had marched against the invader.
+Suddenly fell on the house a fugitive band of marauders,
+Eager for booty, who crowded straightway to the room of the women.
+There they beheld the beautiful form of the fully grown maiden,
+Looked on the charming young girls, who rather might still be called
+                                                          children.
+Savage desire possessed them; at once with merciless passion
+They that trembling band assailed and the high-hearted maiden.
+But she had snatched in an instant the sword of one from its scabbard,
+Felled him with might to the ground, and stretched him bleeding before her.
+Then with vigorous strokes she bravely delivered the maidens,
+Smiting yet four of the robbers; who saved themselves only by flying.
+Then she bolted the gates, and, armed, awaited assistance."
+
+Now when this praise the minister heard bestowed on the maiden,
+Rose straightway for his friend a feeling of hope in his bosom,
+And he had opened his lips to inquire what further befell her,
+If on this mournful flight she now with her people were present;
+When with a hasty step the village doctor approached them,
+Twitched the clergyman's coat, and said in his ear in a whisper:
+"I have discovered the maiden at last among several hundreds;
+By the description I knew her, so come, let thine own eyes behold her!
+Bring too the magistrate with thee, that so we may hear him yet further."
+But as they turned to go, the justice was summoned to leave them,
+Sent for by some of his people by whom his counsel was needed.
+Straightway the preacher, however, the lead of the doctor had followed
+Up to a gap in the fence where his finger he meaningly pointed.
+"Seest thou the maiden?" he said: "she has made some clothes for the baby
+Out of the well-known chintz,--I distinguish it plainly; and further
+There are the covers of blue that Hermann gave in his bundle.
+Well and quickly, forsooth, she has turned to advantage the presents.
+Evident tokens are these, and all else answers well the description.
+Mark how the stomacher's scarlet sets off the arch of her bosom,
+Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fits close to her figure;
+Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle,
+Which, with a simple grace, her chin's rounded outline encircles;
+Freely and lightly rises above it the head's dainty oval,
+And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided.
+Now she is sitting, yet still we behold her majestical stature,
+And the blue petticoat's ample plaits, that down from her bosom
+Hangs in abundant folds about her neatly shaped ankles,
+She without question it is; come, therefore, and let us discover
+Whether she honest and virtuous be, a housewifely maiden."
+
+Then, as the seated figure he studied, the pastor made answer:
+"Truly, I find it no wonder that she so enchanted the stripling,
+Since, to a man's experienced eye, she seems lacking in nothing.
+Happy to whom mother Nature a shape harmonious has given!
+Such will always commend him, and he can be nowhere a stranger.
+All approach with delight, and all are delighted to linger,
+If to the outward shape correspond but a courteous spirit.
+I can assure thee, in her the youth has found him a maiden,
+Who, in the days to come, his life shall gloriously brighten,
+Standing with womanly strength in every necessity by him.
+Surely the soul must be pure that inhabits a body so perfect,
+And of a happy old age such vigorous youth is the promise."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the doctor in language of caution:
+"Often appearances cheat; I like not to trust to externals.
+
+[Illustration: THE PARSON AND THE APOTHECARY WATCH DOROTHEA Ludwig
+Richter]
+
+For I have oft seen put to the test the truth of the proverb:
+Till thou a bushel of salt with a new acquaintance hast eaten,
+Be not too ready to trust him; for time alone renders thee certain
+How ye shall fare with each other, and how well your friendship shall
+                                                           prosper.
+Let us then rather at first make inquiries among the good people
+By whom the maiden is known, and who can inform us about her."
+
+"Much I approve of thy caution," the preacher replied as he followed.
+"Not for ourselves is the suit, and 'tis delicate wooing for others."
+
+Toward the good magistrate, then, the men directed their footsteps,
+Who was again ascending the street in discharge of his duties.
+
+Him the judicious pastor at once addressed and with caution.
+"Look! we a maiden have here descried in the neighboring garden,
+Under an apple-tree sitting, and making up garments for children
+Out of second-hand stuff that somebody doubtless has given;
+And we were pleased with her aspect: she seems like a girl to be trusted.
+Tell us whatever thou knowest: we ask it with honest intentions."
+
+Soon as the magistrate nearer had come, and looked into the garden,
+"Her thou knowest already," he said; "for when I was telling
+Of the heroic deed performed by the hand of that maiden,
+When she snatched the man's sword, and delivered herself and her charges,
+This was the one! she is vigorous born, as thou seest by her stature;
+Yet she is good as strong, for her aged kinsman she tended
+Until the day of his death, which was finally hastened by sorrow
+Over his city's distress, and his own endangered possessions.
+Also, with quiet submission, she bore the death of her lover,
+Who a high-spirited youth, in the earliest flush of excitement,
+Kindled by lofty resolve to fight for a glorious freedom,
+Hurried to Paris, where early a terrible death he encountered.
+For as at home, so there, his foes were deceit and oppression."
+
+Thus the magistrate spoke. The others saluted and thanked him,
+And from his purse a gold-piece the pastor drew forth;--for the silver
+He had some hours before already in charity given,
+When he in mournful groups had seen the poor fugitives passing;--
+And to the magistrate handed it, saying: "Apportion the money
+'Mongst thy destitute people, and God vouchsafe it an increase."
+But the stranger declined it, and, answering, said: "We have rescued
+Many a dollar among us, with clothing and other possessions,
+And shall return, as I hope, ere yet our stock is exhausted."
+
+Then the pastor replied, and pressed the money upon him:
+"None should be backward in giving in days like the present, and no one
+Ought to refuse to accept those gifts which in kindness are offered.
+None can tell how long he may hold what in peace he possesses,
+None how much longer yet he shall roam through the land of the stranger,
+And of his farm be deprived, and deprived of the garden that feeds him."
+
+"Ay, to be sure!" in his bustling way interrupted the doctor:
+"If I had only some money about me, ye surely should have it,
+Little and big; for certainly many among you must need it.
+Yet I'll not go without giving thee something to show what my will is,
+Even though sadly behind my good-will must lag the performance."
+Thus, as he spoke, by its straps his embroidered pocket of leather,
+Where his tobacco was kept, he drew forth,-enough was now in it
+Several pipes to fill,--and daintily opened, and portioned.
+"Small is the gift," he added. The justice, however, made answer:
+"Good tobacco can ne'er to the traveller fail to be welcome."
+Then did the village doctor begin to praise his canaster.
+
+But the clergyman drew him away, and they quitted the justice.
+"Let us make haste," said the thoughtful man: "the youth's waiting
+                                                     in torture;
+Come! let him hear, as soon as he may, the jubilant tidings."
+
+So they hastened their steps, and came to where under the lindens
+Hermann against the carriage was leaning. The horses were stamping
+Wildly the turf; he held them in check, and, buried in musing,
+Stood, into vacancy gazing before him; nor saw the two envoys,
+Till, as they came, they called out and made to him signals of triumph.
+E'en as far off as they then were, the doctor began to address him;
+But they were presently nearer come and then the good pastor
+Grasped his hand and exclaimed, interrupting the word of his comrade:
+"Hail to thee, O young man! thy true eye and heart have well chosen;
+Joy be to thee and the wife of thy youth; for of thee she is worthy.
+Come then and turn us the wagon, and drive straightway to the village,
+There the good maid to woo, and soon bring her home to thy dwelling."
+
+Still, however, the young man stood, without sign of rejoicing,
+Hearing his messenger's words, though heavenly they were and consoling.
+Deeply he sighed as he said: "With hurrying wheels we came hither,
+And shall be forced, perchance, to go mortified homeward and slowly.
+For disquiet has fallen upon me since here I've been waiting,
+Doubt and suspicion, and all that can torture the heart of a lover.
+Think ye we have but to come, and that then the maiden will follow
+Merely because we are rich, while she is poor and an exile?
+Poverty, too, makes proud, when it comes unmerited! Active
+Seems she to be, and contented, and so of the world is she mistress.
+Think ye a maiden like her, with the manners and beauty that she has,
+Can into woman have grown, and no worthy man's love have attracted?
+Think ye that love until now can have been shut out from her bosom?
+Drive not thither too rashly: we might to our mortification
+Have to turn softly homewards our horses' heads. For my fear is
+That to some youth already this heart has been given; already
+This brave hand has been clasped, has pledged faith to some
+                                          fortunate lover.
+Then with my offer, alas! I should stand in confusion before her."
+
+Straightway the pastor had opened his lips to speak consolation,
+When his companion broke in, and said in his voluble fashion:
+"Years ago, forsooth, unknown had been such a dilemma.
+All such affairs were then conducted in regular fashion.
+Soon as a bride for their son had been by the parents selected,
+First some family friend they into their councils would summon,
+Whom they afterward sent as a suitor to visit the parents
+Of the elected bride. Arrayed in his finest apparel,
+Soon after dinner on Sunday he sought the respectable burgher,
+When some friendly words were exchanged upon general subjects,
+He knowing how to direct the discourse as suited his purpose.
+After much circumlocution he finally mentioned the daughter,
+Praising her highly, and praising the man and the house that had sent him.
+Persons of tact perceived his intent, and the politic envoy
+Readily saw how their minds were disposed, and explained himself further.
+Then were the offer declined, e'en the 'no' brought not mortification;
+But did it meet with success, the suitor was ever thereafter
+Made the chief guest in the house on every festive occasion.
+For, through the rest of their lives, the couple ne'er failed to remember
+That 'twas by his experienced hand the first knot had been gathered.
+All that, however, is changed, and, with many another good custom,
+Quite fallen out of the fashion; for every man woos for himself now.
+Therefore let every man hear to his face pronounced the refusal,
+If a refusal there be, and stand shamed in the sight of the maiden!"
+
+"Let that be as it may!" made answer the youth, who had scarcely
+Unto the words paid heed; but in silence had made his decision.
+"I will go thither myself, will myself hear my destiny spoken
+Out of the lips of a maiden in whom I a confidence cherish
+Greater than heart of man has e'er before cherished in woman.
+Say what she will, 'twill be good and wise; of that I am certain.
+Should I behold her never again, yet this once will I see her;
+Yet this once the clear gaze of those dark eyes will encounter.
+If I must press her ne'er to my heart, yet that neck and that bosom
+Will I behold once more, that my arm so longs to encircle;
+Once more that mouth will see, whose kiss and whose 'yes' would for ever
+Render me happy, from which a 'no' will for ever destroy me.
+But ye must leave me alone. Do not wait for me here; but return ye
+Back to my father and mother again, and give them the knowledge
+That their son has not been deceived, that the maiden is worthy.
+So then leave me alone! I shall follow the footpath that crosses
+Over the hill by the pear-tree, and thence descends through our vineyard,
+Taking a shorter way home. And oh, may I bring to our dwelling,
+Joyful and quick my beloved! but perhaps I alone may come creeping
+Over that path to the house, and ne'er again tread it with gladness."
+
+Thus he spoke, and gave up the reins to the hand of the pastor,
+Who understandingly grasped them, the foaming horses controlling,
+Speedily mounted the carriage, and sat in the seat of the driver.
+
+But thou didst hesitate, provident neighbor, and say in remonstrance:
+"Heart and soul and spirit, my friend, I willingly trust thee;
+But as for life and limb, they are not in the safest of keeping,
+When the temporal reins are usurped by the hand of the clergy."
+
+But thou didst laugh at his words, intelligent pastor, and answer:
+"Sit thee down, and contentedly trust me both body and spirit;
+For, in holding the reins, my hand grew long ago skilful,
+Long has my eye been trained in making the nicest of turnings;
+For we were practised well in driving the carriage in Strasburg,
+When I the youthful baron accompanied thither; then daily
+Rolled the carriage, guided by me, through the echoing gateway,
+Out over dusty roads till we reached the meadows and lindens,
+Steering through groups of the town's-folk beguiling the day there
+                                                   with walking."
+
+Thereupon, half-reassured, the neighbor ascended the wagon,
+Sat like one who for a prudent leap is holding him ready,
+And the stallions sped rapidly homeward, desiring their stable.
+Clouds of dust whirled up from under their powerful hoof-beats.
+Long the youth stood there yet, and saw the dust in its rising,
+Saw the dust as it settled again: he stood there unheeding.
+
+
+ERATO
+
+DOROTHEA
+
+Like as the traveller, who, when the sun is approaching its setting,
+Fixes his eyes on it once again ere quickly it vanish,
+Then on the sides of the rocks, and on all the darkening bushes,
+Sees its hovering image; whatever direction he look in
+That hastes before, and flickers and gleams in radiant colors,--
+So before Hermann's eyes moved the beautiful shape of the maiden
+Softly, and seeming to follow the path that led into the corn-field.
+But he aroused from his wildering dream and turned himself slowly
+Toward where the village lay and was wildered again; for again came
+Moving to meet him the lofty form of the glorious maiden.
+Fixedly gazed he upon her; herself it was and no phantom.
+Bearing in either hand a larger jar and a smaller,
+Each by the handle, with busy step she came on to the fountain.
+Joyfully then he hastened to meet her; the sight of her gave him
+Courage and strength; and thus the astonished girl he accosted:
+"Do I then find thee, brave-hearted maiden, so soon again busy,
+Rendering aid unto others, and happy in bringing them comfort?
+Say why thou comest alone to this well which lies at such a distance,
+When all the rest are content with the water they find in the village?
+This has peculiar virtues, 'tis true; and the taste is delicious.
+Thou to that mother wouldst bring it, I trow, whom thy faithfulness
+                                                        rescued."
+
+Straightway with cordial greeting the kindly maiden made answer:
+"Here has my walk to the spring already been amply rewarded,
+Since I have found the good friend who bestowed so abundantly on us;
+For a pleasure not less than the gifts is the sight of the giver.
+Come, I pray thee, and see for thyself who has tasted thy bounty;
+Come, and the quiet thanks receive of all it has solaced.
+But that thou straightway the reason may'st know for which I am hither
+Come to draw, where pure and unfailing the water is flowing,
+This I must tell thee,--that all the water we have in the village
+Has by improvident people been troubled with horses and oxen
+Wading direct through the source which brings the inhabitants water.
+And furthermore they have also made foul with their washings and rinsings
+All the troughs of the village, and all the fountains have sullied;
+For but one thought is in all, and that how to satisfy quickest
+Self and the need of the moment, regardless of what may come after."
+
+[Illustration: HERMANN AND DOROTHEA MEET AT THE FOUNTAIN Ludwig
+Richter]
+
+Thus she spoke, and the broad stone steps meanwhile had descended
+With her companion beside her, and on the low wall of the fountain
+Both sat them down. She bent herself over to draw, and he also
+Took in his hand the jar that remained, and bent himself over;
+And in the blue of the heavens, they, seeing their image reflected,
+Friendly greetings and nods exchanged in the quivering mirror.
+
+"Give me to drink," the youth thereupon in his gladness petitioned,
+And she handed the pitcher. Familiarly sat they and rested,
+Both leaning over their jars, till she presently asked her companion:
+"Tell me, why I find thee here, and without thy horses and wagon,
+Far from the place where I met thee at first? How camest thou hither?"
+
+Thoughtful he bent his eyes on the ground, then quietly raised them
+Up to her face, and, meeting with frankness the gaze of the maiden,
+Felt himself solaced and stilled. But then impossible was it,
+That he of love should speak; her eye told not of affection,
+Only of clear understanding, requiring intelligent answer.
+And he composed himself quickly, and cordially said to the maiden:
+"Hearken to me, my child, and let me reply to thy question.
+'Twas for thy sake that hither I came; why seek to conceal it?
+Know I live happy at home with both my affectionate parents,
+Faithfully giving my aid their house and estates in directing,
+Being an only son, and because our affairs are extensive.
+Mine is the charge of the farm; my father bears rule in the household;
+While the presiding spirit of all is the diligent mother.
+But thine experience doubtless has taught thee how grievously servants,
+Now through deceit, and now through their carelessness, harass the
+                                                        mistress,
+Forcing her ever to change and replace one fault with another.
+Long for that reason my mother has wished for a maid in the household,
+Who not with hand alone, but with heart, too, will lend her assistance,
+Taking the daughter's place, whom alas! she was early deprived of.
+Now when today by the wagon I saw thee, so ready and cheerful,
+Witnessed the strength of thine arms, and thy limbs of such healthful
+                                                         proportion,
+When thy intelligent speech I heard, I was smitten with wonder.
+Hastening homeward, I there to my parents and neighbors the stranger
+Praised as she well deserved. But I now am come hither to tell thee
+What is their wish as mine.--Forgive me my stammering language."
+
+"Hesitate not," she, answering, said, "to tell me what follows.
+Thou dost not give me offence; I have listened with gratitude to thee:
+Speak it out honestly therefore; the sound of it will not alarm me.
+Thou wouldst engage me as servant to wait on thy father and mother,
+And to look after the well-ordered house of which ye are the owners;
+And thou thinkest in me to find them a capable servant,
+One who is skilled in her work, and not of a rude disposition.
+Short thy proposal has been, and short shall be also my answer.
+Yes, I will go with thee home, and the call of fate I will follow.
+Here my duty is done: I have brought the newly made mother
+Back to her kindred again, who are all in her safety rejoicing.
+Most of our people already are gathered; the others will follow.
+All think a few days more will certainly see them returning
+Unto their homes; for such is the exile's constant delusion.
+But by no easy hope do I suffer myself to be cheated
+During these sorrowful days which promise yet more days of sorrow.
+All the bands of the world have been loosed, and what shall unite them,
+Saving alone the need, the need supreme, that is on us?
+If in a good man's house I can earn my living by service,
+Under the eye of an excellent mistress, I gladly will do it;
+Since of doubtful repute, must be always a wandering maiden.
+Yes, I will go with thee, soon as I first shall have carried the pitchers
+Back to my friends, and prayed the good people to give me their blessing
+Come, thou must see them thyself, and from their hands must receive me."
+
+Joyfully hearkened the youth to the willing maiden's decision,
+Doubtful whether he ought not at once to make honest confession.
+
+Yet it appeared to him best to leave her awhile in her error,
+Nor for her love to sue, before leading her home to his dwelling.
+Ah! and the golden ring he perceived on the hand of the maiden,
+Wherefore he let her speak on, and gave diligent ear to her language.
+
+"Come," she presently said, "Let us back to the village; for maidens
+Always are sure to be blamed if they tarry too long at the fountain.
+Yet how delightful it is to chat by the murmuring water!"
+
+Then from their seats they rose, and both of them turned to the fountain
+One more look behind, and a tender longing possessed them.
+Both of the water-jars then in silence she took by the handle,
+Carried them up the steps, while behind her followed her lover.
+One of the pitchers he begged her to give him to lighten the burden.
+"Nay, let it be!" she said: "I carry them better so balanced.
+Nor shall the master, who is to command, be doing me service.
+Look not so gravely upon me, as thinking my fortune a hard one.
+Early a woman should learn to serve, for that is her calling;
+Since through service alone she finally comes to the headship,
+Comes to the due command that is hers of right in the household.
+Early the sister must wait on her brother, and wait on her parents;
+Life must be always with her a perpetual coming and going,
+Or be a fetching and carrying, making and doing for others.
+Happy for her be she wonted to think no way is too grievous,
+And if the hours of the night be to her as the hours of the daytime;
+If she find never a needle too fine, nor a labor too trifling;
+Wholly forgetful of self, and caring to live but in others!
+For she will surely, as mother, have need of every virtue,
+When, in the time of her illness, the cries of her infant arouse her
+Calling for food from her weakness, and cares are to suffering added.
+Twenty men bound into one were not able to bear such a burden;
+Nor is it meant that they should, yet should they with gratitude view it."
+
+Thus she spoke, and was come, meanwhile, with her silent companion,
+Far as the floor of the barn, at the furthermost end of the garden,
+Where was the sick woman lying, whom, glad, she had left with her
+                                                      daughters,
+Those late rescued maidens: fair pictures of innocence were they.
+Both of them entered the barn; and, e'en as they did so, the justice,
+Leading a child in each hand, came in from the other direction.
+These had been lost, hitherto, from the sight of their sorrowing mother;
+But in the midst of the crowd the old man now had descried them.
+Joyfully sprang they forward to meet their dear mother's embraces,
+And to salute with delight their brother, their unknown companion.
+Next upon Dorothea they sprang with affectionate greeting,
+Asking for bread and fruit, but more than all else for some water.
+So then she handed the water about; and not only the children
+Drank, but the sick woman, too, and her daughters, and with them
+                                                   the justice.
+All were refreshed, and highly commended the glorious water;
+Acid it was to the taste, and reviving, and wholesome to drink of.
+
+Then with a serious face the maiden replied to them, saying:
+"Friends, for the last time now to your mouth have I lifted my pitcher;
+And for the last time by me have your lips been moistened with water.
+But henceforth in the heat of the day when the draught shall refresh you,
+When in the shade ye enjoy your rest beside a clear fountain,
+Think of me then sometimes and of all my affectionate service,
+Prompted more by my love than the duty I owed you as kindred.
+I shall acknowledge as long as I live the kindness ye've shown me.
+'Tis with regret that I leave you; but every one now is a burden,
+More than a help to his neighbor, and all must be finally scattered
+Far through a foreign land, if return to our homes be denied us.
+See, here stands the youth to whom we owe thanks for the presents.
+He gave the cloak for the baby, and all these welcome provisions.
+Now he is come, and has asked me if I will make one in his dwelling,
+That I may serve therein his wealthy and excellent parents.
+And I refuse not the offer; for maidens must always be serving;
+Burdensome were it for them to rest and be served in the household.
+Therefore I follow him gladly. A youth of intelligence seems he,
+And so will also the parents be, as becometh the wealthy.
+So then farewell, dear friend; and may'st thou rejoice in thy nursling,
+Living, and into thy face already so healthfully looking!
+When thou shalt press him against thy breast in these gay-colored
+                                                      wrappings,
+Oh, then remember the kindly youth who bestowed them upon us,
+And who me also henceforth, thy sister, will shelter and nourish.
+Thou, too, excellent man!" she said as she turned to the justice;
+"Take my thanks that in many a need I have found thee a father."
+
+Then she knelt down on the floor by the side of the newly made mother,
+Kissing the weeping woman, and taking her low-whispered blessing.
+
+Thou, meanwhile, worshipful justice, wast speaking to Hermann and saying:
+"Justly mayst thou, my friend, be counted among the good masters,
+Careful to manage their household affairs with capable servants.
+For I have often observed how in sheep, as in horses and oxen,
+Men conclude never a bargain without making closest inspection,
+While with a servant who all things preserves, if honest and able,
+And who will every thing lose and destroy, if he set to work falsely,
+Him will a chance or an accident make us admit to our dwelling,
+And we are left, when too late, to repent an o'er hasty decision.
+Thou understandest the matter it seems; because thou hast chosen,
+Thee and thy parents to serve in the house, a maid who is honest.
+Hold her with care; for as long as thy household is under her keeping,
+Thou shalt not want for a sister, nor yet for a daughter thy parents."
+
+Many were come, meanwhile, near relatives all of the mother,
+Bringing her various gifts, and more suitable quarters announcing.
+All of them, hearing the maiden's decision, gave Hermann their blessing,
+Coupled with glances of meaning, while each made his special reflections.
+Hastily one and another would say in the ear of his neighbor:
+"If in the master a lover she find, right well were she cared for."
+Hermann took her at last by the hand, and said as he did so:
+"Let us be going; the day is declining, and distant the city."
+Eager and voluble then the women embraced Dorothea.
+Hermann drew her away; but other adieus must be spoken:
+Lastly the children with cries fell upon her and terrible weeping,
+Clung to her garments, and would not their dear second mother should
+                                                        leave them.
+But in a tone of command the women said, one and another:
+"Hush now, children, she's going to the town, and will presently bring you
+Plenty of nice sweet cake that was by your brother bespoken
+When by the stork just now he was brought past the shop of the baker.
+Soon you will see her come back with sugar-plums splendidly gilded."
+Then did the little ones loose their hold, and Hermann, though hardly,
+Tore her from further embraces away, and far-waving kerchiefs.
+
+
+MELPOMENE
+
+HERMAN AND DOROTHEA
+
+Toward the setting sun the two thus went on their journey:
+Close he had wrapped himself round with clouds portending a tempest.
+Out from the veil, now here and now there, with fiery flashes,
+Gleaming over the field shot forth the ominous lightning.
+"May not these threatening heavens," said Hermann, "be presently sending
+Hailstones upon us and violent rains; for fair is the harvest."
+And in the waving luxuriant grain they delighted together:
+Almost as high it reached as the lofty shapes that moved through it.
+
+Thereupon spoke the maiden, and said to her guide and companion:
+"Friend, unto whom I soon am to owe so kindly a fortune,
+Shelter and home, while many an exile's exposed to the tempest,
+Tell me concerning thy parents, I pray thee, and teach me to know them,
+Them whom with all my heart I desire to serve in the future.
+Who understands his master, more easily gives satisfaction,
+Having regard to the things which to him seem chief in importance,
+And on the doing of which his firm-set mind is determined.
+Tell me therefore, I pray, how to win thy father and mother."
+
+And to her question made answer the good and intelligent Hermann:
+"Ah, what wisdom thou showest, thou good, thou excellent maiden,
+Asking thus first of all concerning the tastes of my parents!
+Know that in vain hitherto I have labored in serving my father,
+Taking upon me as were it my own, the charge of the household;
+Early and late at work in the fields, and o'erseeing the vine-yard.
+But my mother I fully content, who can value my service;
+And thou wilt also appear in her eyes the worthiest of maidens,
+If for the house thou carest, as were it thine own thou wast keeping.
+Otherwise is it with father, who cares for the outward appearance.
+Do not regard me, good maiden, as one who is cold and unfeeling,
+That unto thee a stranger I straightway discover my father.
+Nay, I assure thee that never before have words such as these are
+Freely dropped from my tongue, which is not accustomed to prattle;
+But from out of my bosom thou lurest its every secret.
+Some of the graces of life my good father covets about him,
+Outward signs of affection he wishes, as well as of honor;
+And an inferior servant might possibly give satisfaction,
+Who could turn these to account, while he might be displeased with a
+                                                           better."
+
+Thereupon said she with joy, the while him hastening footsteps
+Over the darkening pathway with easy motion she quickened:
+"Truly I hope to them both I shall equally give satisfaction:
+For in thy mother's nature I find such an one as mine own is,
+And to the outward graces I've been from my childhood accustomed.
+Greatly was courtesy valued among our neighbors the Frenchmen,
+During their earlier days; it was common to noble and burgher,
+As to the peasant, and every one made it the rule of his household.
+So, on the side of us Germans, the children were likewise accustomed
+Daily to bring to their parents, with kissing of hands and with curtseys,
+Morning good-wishes, and all through the day to be prettily mannered.
+Every thing thus that I learned, and to which I've been used from my
+                                                         childhood,
+All that my heart shall suggest, shall be brought into play for thy
+                                                          father.
+But who shall tell me of thee, and how thyself shouldst be treated,
+Thou the only son of the house, and henceforth my master?"
+
+Thus she said, and e'en as she spoke they stood under the pear-tree.
+Down from the heavens the moon at her full was shedding her splendor.
+Night had come on, and wholly obscured was the last gleam of sunlight,
+So that contrasting masses lay side by side with each other,
+Clear and bright as the day, and black with the shadows of midnight;
+Gratefully fell upon Hermann's ear the kindly asked question
+Under the shade of the glorious tree, the spot he so treasured,
+Which but this morning had witnessed the tears he had shed for the exile.
+And while they sat themselves down to rest them here for a little,
+Thus spoke the amorous youth, as he grasped the hand of the maiden:
+"Suffer thy heart to make answer, and follow it freely in all things."
+Yet naught further he ventured to say although so propitious
+Seemed the hour; he feared he should only haste on a refusal.
+Ah, and he felt besides the ring on her finger, sad token!
+Therefore they sat there, silent and still, beside one another.
+
+First was the maiden to speak: "How sweet is this glorious moonlight!"
+Said she at length: "It is as the light of the day in its brightness.
+
+[Illustration: HERMAN AND DOROTHEA UNDER THE PEAR TREE Ludwig Richter]
+
+There in the city I plainly can see the houses and court-yards,
+And in the gable--methinks I can number its panes--is a window."
+
+"What thou seest," the modest youth thereupon made her answer,--
+"What thou seest is our dwelling, to which I am leading thee downward,
+And that window yonder belongs to my room in the attic,
+Which will be thine perhaps, for various changes are making.
+All these fields, too, are ours; they are ripe for the harvest to-morrow.
+Here in the shade we will rest, and partake of our noon-tide refreshment.
+But it is time we began our descent through the vineyard and garden;
+For dost thou mark how yon threatening storm-cloud comes nearer and
+                                                           nearer,
+Charged with lightning, and ready our fair full moon to extinguish?"
+
+So they arose from their seats, and over the corn fields descended,
+Through the luxuriant grain, enjoying the brightness of evening,
+Until they came to the vineyard, and so entered into its shadow.
+Then he guided her down o'er the numerous blocks that were lying,
+Rough and unhewn on the pathway, and served as the steps of the alley.
+Slowly the maiden descended, and leaning her hands on his shoulder,
+While with uncertain beams, the moon through the leaves overlooked them,
+Ere she was veiled by the cloud, and so left the couple in darkness.
+Carefully Hermann's strength supported the maid that hung o'er him;
+But, not knowing the path and the rough-hewn steps that led down it,
+Missed she her footing, her ankle turned, and she surely had fallen,
+Had not the dexterous youth his arm outstretched in an instant,
+And his beloved upheld. She gently sank on his shoulder;
+Breast was pressed against breast, and cheek against cheek. Thus he
+                                                      stood there
+Fixed as a marble statue, the force of will keeping him steadfast,
+Drew her not to him more closely, but braced himself under her pressure.
+Thus he the glorious burden felt, the warmth of her bosom,
+And the perfume of her breath, that over his lips was exhaling;
+Bore with the heart of a man the majestic form of the woman.
+
+But she with playfulness said, concealing the pain that she suffered:
+"That is a sign of misfortune, so timorous persons would tell us,
+When on approaching a house we stumble not far from the threshold;
+And for myself, I confess, I could wish for a happier omen.
+Let us here linger awhile that thy parents may not have to blame thee,
+Seeing a limping maid, and thou seem an incompetent landlord."
+
+
+URANIA
+
+PROSPECT
+
+Muses, O ye who the course of true love so willingly favor,
+Ye who thus far on his way the excellent youth have conducted,
+Even before the betrothal have pressed to his bosom the maiden;
+Further your aid vouchsafe this charming pair in uniting,
+Straightway dispersing the clouds which over their happiness lower!
+Yet first of all declare what is passing meanwhile at the Lion.
+  Now for the third time again the mother impatient had  entered
+Where were assembled the men, whom anxious but now she had quitted;
+Spoke of the gathering storm, and the moonlight's rapid obscuring;
+Then of her son's late tarrying abroad and the dangers of nightfall;
+Sharply upbraided her friends that without having speech of the maiden,
+And without urging his suit, they had parted from Hermann so early.
+
+"Make it not worse than it is," the father replied with displeasure.
+"For, as thou seest, we tarry ourselves and are waiting the issue."
+
+Calmly, however, from where he was sitting the neighbor made answer:
+"Never in hours of disquiet like this do I fail to be grateful
+Unto my late, blessed father, who every root of impatience
+Tore from my heart when a child, and left no fibre remaining;
+So that I learned on the instant to wait as do none of your sages."
+"Tell us," the pastor returned, "what legerdemain he made use of."
+"That will I gladly relate, for all may draw from it a lesson;"
+So made the neighbor reply. "When a boy I once stood of a Sunday
+Full of impatience, and looking with eagerness out for the carriage
+Which was to carry us forth to the spring that lies under the lindens.
+Still the coach came not. I ran, like a weasel, now hither, now thither,
+Up stairs and down, and forward and back, 'twixt the door and the window;
+Even my fingers itched to be moving; I scratched on the tables,
+Went about pounding and stamping, and hardly could keep me from weeping.
+All was observed by the calm-tempered man; but at last when my folly
+Came to be carried too far, by the arm he quietly took me,
+Led me away to the window, and spoke in this serious language:
+'Seest thou yonder the carpenter's shop that is closed for the Sunday?
+He will re-open to-morrow, when plane and saw will be started,
+And will keep on through the hours of labor from morning till evening.
+But consider you this,--a day will be presently coming
+When that man shall himself be astir and all of his workmen,
+Making a coffin for thee to be quickly and skilfully finished.
+Then that house of boards they will busily bring over hither,
+Which must at last receive alike the impatient and patient,
+And which is destined soon with close-pressing roof to be covered.'
+Straightway I saw the whole thing in my mind as if it were doing;
+Saw the boards fitting together, and saw the black color preparing,
+Sat me down patiently then, and in quiet awaited the carriage.
+Now when others I see, in seasons of anxious expectance,
+Running distracted about, I cannot but think of the coffin."
+
+Smiling, the pastor replied: "The affecting picture of death stands
+Not as a dread to the wise, and not as an end to the pious.
+Those it presses again into life, and teaches to use it;
+These by affliction it strengthens in hope to future salvation.
+Death becomes life unto both. Thy father was greatly mistaken
+When to a sensitive boy he death in death thus depicted.
+Let us the value of nobly ripe age, point out to the young man,
+And to the aged the youth, that in the eternal progression
+Both may rejoice, and life may in life thus find its completion."
+
+But the door was now opened, and showed the majestical couple.
+Filled with amaze were the friends, and amazed the affectionate parents,
+Seeing the form of the maid so well matched with that of her lover.
+Yea, the door seemed too low to allow the tall figures to enter,
+As they together now appeared coming over the threshold.
+
+Hermann, with hurried words, presented her thus to his parents:
+"Here is a maiden," he said; "such a one as ye wish in the household.
+Kindly receive her, dear father: she merits it well; and thou, mother,
+Question her straightway on all that belongs to a house-keeper's duty,
+That ye may see how well she deserves to ye both to be nearer."
+
+  Quickly he then drew aside the excellent clergyman, saying:
+"Help me, O worthy sir, and speedily out of this trouble;
+Loosen, I pray thee, this knot, at whose untying I tremble.
+Know that 'tis not as a lover that I have brought hither the maiden;
+But she believes that as servant she comes to the house, and I tremble
+Lest in displeasure she fly as soon as there's mention of marriage.
+But be it straightway decided; for she no longer in error
+Thus shall be left, and I this suspense no longer can suffer.
+Hasten and show us in this a proof of the wisdom we honor."
+
+  Toward the company then the clergyman instantly turned him;
+But already, alas! had the soul of the maiden been troubled,
+Hearing the father's speech; for he, in his sociable fashion,
+Had in these playful words, with the kindest intention addressed her:
+"Ay, this is well, my child! with delight I perceive that my Hermann
+Has the good taste of his father, who often showed his in his young days,
+Leading out always the fairest to dance, and bringing the fairest
+Finally home as his wife; our dear little mother here that was.
+For by the bride that a man shall elect we can judge what himself is,
+Tell what the spirit is in him, and whether he feel his own value.
+Nor didst thou need for thyself, I'll engage, much time for decision;
+For, in good sooth, methinks, he's no difficult person to follow."
+
+Hermann had heard but in part; his limbs were inwardly trembling,
+And of a sudden a stillness had fallen on all of the circle.
+
+But by these words of derision, for such she could not but deem them,
+Wounded, and stung to the depths of her soul, the excellent maiden,
+Stood, while the fugitive blood o'er her cheeks and e'en to her bosom
+Poured its flush. But she governed herself, and her courage collecting,
+Answered the old man thus, her pain not wholly concealing:
+"Truly for such a reception thy son had in no wise prepared me,
+When he the ways of his father described, the excellent burgher.
+Thou art a man of culture, I know, before whom I am standing;
+Dealest with every one wisely, according as suits his position;
+But thou hast scanty compassion, it seems, on one such as I am,
+Who, a poor girl, am now crossing thy threshold with purpose to serve thee;
+Else, with such bitter derision, thou wouldst not have made me remember
+How far removed my fortune from that of thyself and thy son is.
+True, I come poor to thy house, and bring with me naught but my bundle
+Here where is every abundance to gladden the prosperous inmates.
+Yet I know well myself; I feel the relations between us.
+Say, is it noble, with so much of mockery straightway to greet me,
+That I am sent from the house while my foot is scarce yet on the
+           threshold?"
+
+Anxiously Hermann turned and signed to his ally the pastor
+That he should rush to the rescue and straightway dispel the delusion.
+Then stepped the wise man hastily forward and looked on the maiden's
+Tearful eyes, her silent pain and repressed indignation,
+And in his heart was impelled not at once to clear up the confusion,
+Rather to put to the test the girl's disquieted spirit.
+Therefore he unto her said in language intended to try her:
+"Surely, thou foreign-born maiden, thou didst not maturely consider,
+When thou too rashly decidedst to enter the service of strangers,
+All that is meant by the placing thyself 'neath the rule of a master;
+For by our hand to a bargain the fate of the year is determined,
+And but a single 'yea' compels to much patient endurance.
+Not the worst part of the service the wearisome steps to be taken,
+Neither the bitter sweat of a labor that presses unceasing;
+Since the industrious freeman must toil as well as the servant.
+But 'tis to bear with the master's caprice when he censures unjustly,
+Or when, at variance with self, he orders now this, now the other;
+Bear with the petulance, too, of the mistress, easily angered,
+And with the rude, overbearing ways of unmannerly children.
+All this is hard to endure, and yet to go on with thy duties
+Quickly, without delay, nor thyself grow sullen and stubborn.
+Yet thou appearest ill fitted for this, since already so deeply
+Stung by the father's jests: whereas there is nothing more common
+Than for a girl to be teased on account of a youth she may fancy."
+
+Thus he spoke. The maiden had felt the full force of his language,
+And she restrained her no more; but with passionate out-burst her feelings
+Made themselves way; a sob broke forth from her now heaving bosom,
+And, while the scalding tears poured down, she straightway made answer
+"Ah, that rational man who thinks to advise us in sorrow,
+Knows not how little of power his cold words have in relieving
+Ever a heart from that woe which a sovereign fate has inflicted.
+Ye are prosperous and glad; how then should a pleasantry wound you?
+Yet but the lightest touch is a source of pain to the sick man.
+Nay, concealment itself, if successful, had profited nothing.
+Better show now what had later increased to a bitterer anguish,
+And to an inward consuming despair might perhaps have reduced me.
+Let me go back! for here in this house I can tarry no longer.
+I will away, and wander in search of my hapless companions,
+Whom I forsook in their need; for myself alone choosing the better.
+This is my firm resolve, and I therefore may make a confession
+Which might for years perhaps have else lain hid in my bosom.
+Deeply indeed was I hurt by the father's words of derision;
+Not that I'm sensitive, proud beyond what is fitting a servant;
+But that my heart in truth had felt itself stirred with affection
+Toward the youth who to-day had appeared to my eyes as a savior.
+When he first left me there on the road, he still remained present,
+Haunting my every thought; I fancied the fortunate maiden
+Whom as a bride, perhaps, his heart had already elected.
+When at the fountain I met him again, the sight of him wakened
+Pleasure as great as if there had met me an angel from heaven;
+And with what gladness I followed, when asked to come as his servant.
+True, that I flattered myself in my heart,--I will not deny it,--
+While we were hitherward coming, I might peradventure deserve him,
+Should I become at last the important stay of the household.
+Now I, alas! for the first time see what risk I was running,
+When I would make my home so near to the secretly loved one;
+Now for the first time feel how far removed a poor maiden
+Is from an opulent youth, no matter how great her deserving.
+All this I now confess, that my heart ye may not misinterpret,
+In that 'twas hurt by a chance to which I owe my awaking.
+Hiding my secret desires, this dread had been ever before me,
+That at some early day he would bring him a bride to his dwelling;
+And ah, how could I then my inward anguish have suffered!
+Happily I have been warned, and happily now has my bosom
+Been of its secret relieved, while yet there is cure for the evil.
+But no more; I have spoken; and now shall nothing detain me
+Longer here in a house where I stay but in shame and confusion,
+Freely confessing my love and that foolish hope that I cherished.
+Not the night which abroad is covered with lowering storm clouds;
+Not the roll of the thunder--I hear its peal--shall deter me;
+Not the pelt of the rain which without is beating in fury;
+Neither the blustering tempest; for all these things have I suffered
+During our sorrowful flight, and while the near foe was pursuing.
+Now I again go forth, as I have so long been accustomed,
+Carried away by the whirl of the times, and from every thing parted.
+Fare ye well! I tarry no longer; all now is over."
+
+Thus she spoke and back to the door she hastily turned her,
+Still bearing under her arm, as she with her had brought it, her bundle.
+But with both of her arms the mother seized hold of the maiden,
+Clasping her round the waist, and exclaiming, amazed and bewildered:
+"Tell me, what means all this? and these idle tears, say, what mean they?
+I will not let thee depart: thou art the betrothed of my Hermann."
+
+But still the father stood, observing the scene with displeasure,
+Looked on the weeping girl, and said in a tone of vexation:
+"This then must be the return that I get for all my indulgence,
+That at the close of the day this most irksome of all things should happen!
+For there is naught I can tolerate less than womanish weeping,
+Violent outcries, which only involve in disorder and passion,
+What with a little of sense had been more smoothly adjusted.
+Settle the thing for yourselves: I'm going to bed; I've no patience
+Longer to be a spectator of these your marvelous doings."
+Quickly he turned as he spoke, and hastened to go to the chamber
+Where he was wonted to rest, and his marriage bed was kept standing,
+But he was held by his son, who said in a tone of entreaty:
+"Father, hasten not from us, and be thou not wroth with the maiden.
+I, only I, am to blame as the cause of all this confusion,
+Which by his dissimulation our friend unexpectedly heightened.
+Speak, O worthy sir; for to thee my cause I intrusted.
+Heap not up sorrow and anger, but rather let all this be ended;
+For I could hold thee never again in such high estimation,
+If thou shouldst show but delight in pain, not superior wisdom."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the excellent clergyman, smiling:
+"Tell me, what other device could have drawn this charming confession
+Out of the good maiden's lips, and thus have revealed her affection?
+Has not thy trouble been straightway transformed into gladness and rapture?
+Therefore speak up for thyself; what need of the tongue of another?"
+
+Thereupon Hermann came forward, and spoke in these words of affection:
+"Do not repent of thy tears, nor repent of these passing distresses;
+For they complete my joy, and--may I not hope it--thine also?
+Not to engage the stranger, the excellent maid, as a servant,
+Unto the fountain I came; but to sue for thy love I came thither.
+Only, alas! my timorous look could thy heart's inclination
+Nowise perceive; I read in thine eyes of nothing but kindness,
+As from the fountain's tranquil mirror thou gavest me greeting.
+Might I but bring thee home, the half of my joy was accomplished.
+But thou completest it unto me now; oh, blest be thou for it!"
+Then with a deep emotion the maiden gazed on the stripling;
+Neither forbade she embrace and kiss, the summit of rapture,
+When to a loving pair they come as the longed for assurance,
+Pledge of a lifetime of bliss, that appears to them now never-ending.
+
+Unto the others, meanwhile, the pastor had made explanation.
+But with feeling and grace the maid now advanced to the father,
+Bent her before him, and kissing the hand he would fain have withholden,
+Said: "Thou wilt surely be just and forgive one so startled as I was,
+First for my tears of distress, and now for the tears of my gladness.
+That emotion forgive me, and oh! forgive me this also.
+For I can scarce comprehend the happiness newly vouchsafed me.
+Yes, let that first vexation of which I, bewildered, was guilty
+Be, too, the last. Whatever the maid of affectionate service
+Faithfully promised, shall be to thee now performed by the daughter."
+
+Straightway then, concealing his tears, the father embraced her,
+Cordially, too, the mother came forward and kissed her with fervor,
+Pressing her hands in her own: the weeping women were silent.
+
+Thereupon quickly he seized, the good and intelligent pastor,
+First the father's hand, and the wedding-ring drew from his finger,--
+Not so easily either: the finger was plump and detained it,--
+Next took the mother's ring also, and with them betrothed he the children,
+Saying: "These golden circlets once more their office performing
+Firmly a tie shall unite, which in all things shall equal the old one,
+Deeply is this young man imbued with love of the maiden,
+And, as the maiden confesses, her heart is gone out to him also.
+
+[Illustration: THE BETROTHAL Ludwig Richter]
+
+Here do I therefore betroth you and bless for the years that are coming,
+With the consent of the parents, and having this friend as a witness."
+
+Then the neighbor saluted at once, and expressed his good wishes;
+But when the clergyman now the golden circlet was drawing
+Over the maiden's hand, he observed with amazement the other,
+Which had already by Hermann been anxiously marked at the fountain.
+And with a kindly raillery thus thereupon he addressed her:
+"So, then thy second betrothal is this? Let us hope the first bridegroom
+May not appear at the altar, and so prohibit the marriage."
+
+But she, answering, said: "Oh, let me to this recollection
+Yet one moment devote; for so much is due the good giver,
+Him who bestowed it at parting, and never came back to his kindred.
+All that should come he foresaw, when in haste the passion for freedom,
+When a desire in the newly changed order of things to be working,
+Urged him onward to Paris, where chains and death he encountered.
+'Fare thee well,' were his words; 'I go, for all is in motion
+Now for a time on the earth, and every thing seems to be parting.
+E'en in the firmest states fundamental laws are dissolving;
+Property falls away from the hand of the ancient possessor;
+Friend is parted from friend; and so parts lover from lover.
+Here I leave thee, and where I shall find thee again, or if ever,
+Who can tell? Perhaps these words are our last ones together.
+Man's but a stranger here on the earth, we are told and with reason;
+And we are each of us now become more of strangers than ever.
+Ours no more is the soil, and our treasures are all of them changing:
+Silver and gold are melting away from their time-honored patterns.
+All is in motion as though the already-shaped world into chaos
+Meant to resolve itself backward into night, and to shape itself over.
+Mine thou wilt keep thine heart, and should we be ever united
+Over the ruins of earth, it will be as newly made creatures,
+Beings transformed and free, no longer dependent on fortune;
+For can aught fetter the man who has lived through days such as these are!
+But if it is not to be, that, these dangers happily over,
+Ever again we be granted the bliss of mutual embraces,
+Oh, then before thy thoughts so keep my hovering image
+That with unshaken mind thou be ready for good or for evil!
+Should new ties allure thee again, and a new habitation,
+Enter with gratitude into the joys that fate shall prepare thee;
+Love those purely who love thee; be grateful to them who show kindness.
+But thine uncertain foot should yet be planted but lightly,
+For there is lurking the twofold pain of a new separation.
+Blessings attend thy life; but value existence no higher
+Than thine other possessions, and all possessions are cheating!'
+Thus spoke the noble youth, and never again I beheld him.
+Meanwhile I lost my all, and a thousand times thought of his warning.
+Here, too, I think of his words, when love is sweetly preparing
+Happiness for me anew, and glorious hopes are reviving.
+Oh, forgive me, excellent friend, that e'en while I hold thee
+Close to my side I tremble! So unto the late-landed sailor
+Seem the most solid foundations of firmest earth to be rocking."
+
+Thus she spoke, and placed the two rings on her finger together.
+But her lover replied with a noble and manly emotion:
+"So much the firmer then, amid these universal convulsions,
+Be, Dorothea, our union! We two will hold fast and continue,
+Firmly maintaining ourselves, and the right to our ample possessions.
+For that man, who, when times are uncertain, is faltering in spirit,
+Only increases the evil, and further and further transmits it;
+While he refashions the world, who keeps himself steadfastly minded.
+Poorly becomes it the German to give to these fearful excitements
+Aught of continuance, or to be this way and that way inclining.
+This is our own! let that be our word, and let us maintain it!
+For to those resolute peoples respect will be ever accorded,
+Who for God and the laws, for parents, women and children,
+Fought and died, as together they stood with their front to the foeman.
+Thou art mine own; and now what is mine, is mine more than ever.
+Not with anxiety will I preserve it, and trembling enjoyment;
+Rather with courage and strength. To-day should the enemy threaten,
+Or in the future, equip me thyself and hand me my weapons.
+Let me but know that under thy care are my house and dear parents,
+Oh! I can then with assurance expose my breast to the foeman.
+And were but every man minded like me, there would be an upspring
+Might against might, and peace should revisit us all with its gladness."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS
+
+BY ARTHUR H. PALMER, A.M., LL.D.
+
+Professor of German Language and Literature, Yale University
+
+To what literary genus does Goethe's _Iphigenia_ belongs? Dramatic in
+form, is it a drama? For A. W. Schlegel "an echo of Greek song," and
+for many German critics the best modern reproduction of Greek tragedy,
+it is for others a thoroughly German work in its substitution of
+profound moral struggles for the older passionate, more external
+conflicts. Schiller said: "It is, however, so astonishingly modern and
+un-Greek, that I cannot understand how it was ever thought to resemble
+a Greek play. It is purely moral; but the sensuous power, the life,
+the agitation, and everything which specifically belongs to a dramatic
+work is wanting." He adds, however, that it is a marvelous production
+which must forever remain the delight and wonderment of mankind. This
+is the view of G. H. Lewes, whose characterization is so apt also in
+other respects: "A drama it is not; it is a marvelous dramatic poem.
+The grand and solemn movement responds to the large and simple ideas
+which it unfolds. It has the calmness of majesty. In the limpid
+clearness of its language the involved mental processes of the
+characters are as transparent as the operations of bees within a
+crystal hive; while a constant strain of high and lofty music makes
+the reader feel as if in a holy temple. And above all witcheries of
+detail there is one capital witchery, belonging to Greek statues more
+than to other works of human cunning--the perfect unity of impression
+produced by the whole, so that nothing in it seems _made_, but all to
+_grow_; nothing is superfluous, but all is in organic dependence;
+nothing is there for detached effect, but the whole is effect. The
+poem fills the mind; beautiful as the separate passages are, admirers
+seldom think of passages, they think of the wondrous whole."
+
+But may we not deepen and spiritualize our conception of the drama and
+say that in _Iphigenia_, Goethe created a new dramatic genus, the
+soul-drama--the first psychological drama of modern literature, the
+result of ethical and artistic development through two milleniums?
+Surely a Greek dramatist of the first rank, come to life again in
+Goethe's age and entering into the heritage of this development, would
+have modernized both subject and form in the same way.
+
+Most intimate is the relation of _Iphigenia_ to Goethe's inner life,
+and this relation best illumines the spiritual import of the drama.
+Like his _Torquato Tasso_, it springs entirely from conditions and
+experiences of the early Weimar years and those just preceding. It was
+conceived and the first prose version written early in 1779; it
+received its final metrical form December, 1786--in Rome indeed, but
+it owed to Italy only a higher artistic finish.
+
+In his autobiography Goethe has revealed to us that his works are
+fragments of a great confession. Moods of his pre-Weimar storm and
+stress vibrate in his _Iphigenia_--feverish unrest, defiance of
+conventionality, Titanic trust in his individual genius,
+self-reproach, and remorse for guilt toward those he
+loved,--Friederike and Lili. Thus feeling his inner conflicts to be
+like the sufferings of Orestes, he wrote in a letter, August, 1775,
+shortly after returning to Frankfurt from his first Swiss journey:
+"Perhaps the invisible scourge of the Eumenides will soon drive me out
+again from my fatherland."
+
+In November, 1775, Goethe went to Weimar, and there he found
+redemption from his unrest and dejection in the friendship of Frau von
+Stein. Her beneficent influence effected his new-birth into calm
+self-control and harmony of spirit. On August 7, 1779, Goethe wrote in
+his diary: "May the idea of purity, extending even to the morsel I
+take into my mouth, become ever more luminous in me!" If Orestes is
+Goethe, Iphigenia is Frau von Stein; and in the personal sense the
+theme of the drama is the restoration of the poet to spiritual purity
+by the influence of noble womanhood.
+
+But there is a larger, universally human sense. Such healing of
+Orestes is typically human; noble womanhood best realizes the ideal of
+the truly human (_Humanität_). In a way that transcends understanding,
+one pure, strong human personality may by its influence restore moral
+vigor and bring peace and hope to other souls rent by remorse and sunk
+in despair. This Goethe himself expressed as the central thought of
+this drama in the lines:
+
+Alle menschlichen Gebrechen
+Sühnet reine Menschlichkeit
+
+(For each human fault and frailty
+Pure humanity atones).
+
+The eighteenth century's conception of "humanity," the ideal of the
+truly human, found two-fold classic, artistic expression in Germany at
+the same time; in Lessing's _Nathan the Wise_ and in Goethe's
+_Iphigenia in Tauris_, the former rationalistic, the latter broader,
+more subtle, mystical.
+
+
+IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS (1787)[33]
+
+
+A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS
+
+TRANSLATED BY ANNA SWANWICK
+
+Like _Torquato Tasso, Iphigenia_ was originally written in prose, and
+in that form was acted at the Weimar Court Theatre about 1779. Goethe
+himself took the part of Orestes.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
+
+
+IPHIGENIA.
+THOAS, _King of the Taurians_.
+ORESTES.
+PYLADES.
+ARKAS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT I
+
+SCENE I. _A Grove before the Temple of Diana_.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Beneath your leafy gloom, ye waving boughs
+Of this old, shady, consecrated grove,
+As in the goddess' silent sanctuary,
+With the same shuddering feeling forth I step,
+As when I trod it first, nor ever here
+Doth my unquiet spirit feel at home.
+Long as a higher will, to which I bow,
+Hath kept me here conceal'd, still, as at first,
+I feel myself a stranger. For the sea
+Doth sever me, alas! from those I love,
+And day by day upon the shore I stand,
+The land of Hellas seeking with my soul;
+But to my sighs, the hollow-sounding waves
+Bring, save their own hoarse murmurs, no reply.
+Alas for him! who friendless and alone,
+Remote from parents and from brethren dwells;
+From him grief snatches every coming joy
+Ere it doth reach his lip. His yearning thoughts
+Throng back for ever to his father's halls,
+Where first to him the radiant sun unclosed
+The gates of heav'n; where closer, day by day,
+Brothers and sisters, leagued in pastime sweet,
+Around each other twin'd love's tender bonds.
+I will not reckon with the gods; yet truly
+Deserving of lament is woman's lot.
+Man rules alike at home and in the field,
+Nor is in foreign climes without resource;
+Him conquest crowneth, him possession gladdens,
+And him an honorable death awaits.
+How circumscrib'd is woman's destiny!
+Obedience to a harsh, imperious lord,
+Her duty, and her comfort; sad her fate,
+Whom hostile fortune drives to lands remote!
+Thus Thoas holds me here, a noble man
+Bound with a heavy though a sacred chain.
+O how it shames me, goddess, to confess
+That with repugnance I perform these rites
+For thee, divine protectress! unto whom
+I would in freedom dedicate my life.
+In thee, Diana, I have always hoped,
+And still I hope in thee, who didst infold
+Within the holy shelter of thine arm
+The outcast daughter of the mighty king.
+Daughter of Jove! hast thou from ruin'd Troy
+Led back in triumph to his native land
+The mighty man, whom thou didst sore afflict,
+His daughter's life in sacrifice demanding,--
+Hast thou for him, the godlike Agamemnon,
+Who to thine altar led his darling child,
+Preserv'd his wife, Electra, and his son,
+His dearest treasures?--then at length restore
+Thy suppliant also to her friends and home,
+And save her, as thou once from death didst save,
+So now, from living here, a second death.
+
+[Illustration: IPHIGENIA Anselm Feuerbach]
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+IPHIGENIA, ARKAS
+
+
+ARKAS
+
+The king hath sent me hither, bade me greet
+With hail, and fair salute, Diana's priestess.
+For new and wondrous conquest, this the day,
+When to her goddess Tauris renders thanks.
+I hasten on before the king and host,
+Himself to herald, and its near approach.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+We are prepar'd to give them worthy greeting;
+Our goddess doth behold with gracious eye
+The welcome sacrifice from Thoas' hand.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Would that I also found the priestess' eye,
+Much honor'd, much revered one, found thine eye,
+O consecrated maid, more calm, more bright,
+To all a happy omen! Still doth grief,
+With gloom mysterious, shroud thy inner mind;
+Vainly, through many a tedious year we wait
+For one confiding utterance from thy breast.
+Long as I've known thee in this holy place,
+That look of thine hath ever made me shudder;
+And, as with iron bands, thy soul remains
+Lock'd in the deep recesses of thy breast.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+As doth become the exile and the orphan.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Dost thou then here seem exil'd and an orphan?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Can foreign scenes our fatherland replace?
+
+ARKAS
+
+Thy fatherland is foreign now to thee.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Hence is it that my bleeding heart ne'er heals.
+In early youth, when first my soul, in love,
+Held father, mother, brethren fondly twin'd,
+A group of tender germs, in union sweet,
+We sprang in beauty from the parent stem,
+And heavenward grew; alas, a foreign curse
+Then seized and sever'd me from those I loved,
+And wrench'd with iron grasp the beauteous bands
+It vanish'd then, the fairest charm of youth,
+The simple gladness of life's early dawn;
+Though sav'd I was a shadow of myself,
+And life's fresh joyance blooms in me no more.
+
+ARKAS
+
+If thou wilt ever call thyself unblest,
+I must accuse thee of ingratitude.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thanks have you ever.
+
+ARKAS
+
+               Not the honest thanks
+Which prompt the heart to offices of love;
+The joyous glance, revealing to the host
+A grateful spirit, with its lot content.
+When thee a deep mysterious destiny
+Brought to this sacred fane, long years ago,
+To greet thee, as a treasure sent from heaven,
+With reverence and affection, Thoas came.
+Benign and friendly was this shore to thee,
+To every stranger else with horror fraught,
+For, till thy coming, none e'er trod our realm
+But fell, according to an ancient rite,
+A bloody victim at Diana's shrine.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Freely to breathe alone is not to live.
+Say, is it life, within this holy fane,
+Like a poor ghost around its sepulchre
+To linger out my days? Or call you that
+A life of conscious happiness and joy,
+When every hour, dream'd listlessly away,
+Still leadeth onward to those gloomy days,
+Which the sad troop of the departed spend
+In self-forgetfulness on Lethe's shore?
+A useless life is but an early death;
+This woman's destiny hath still been mine.
+
+ARKAS
+
+I can forgive, though I must needs deplore,
+The noble pride which underrates itself;
+It robs thee of the happiness of life.
+But hast thou, since thy coming here, done naught?
+Who hath the monarch's gloomy temper cheered?
+Who hath with gentle eloquence annull'd,
+From year to year, the usage of our sires,
+By which, a victim at Diana's shrine,
+Each stranger perish'd, thus from certain death
+Sending so oft the rescued captive home?
+Hath not Diana, harboring no revenge
+For this suspension of her bloody rites,
+In richest measure heard thy gentle prayer?
+On joyous pinions o'er the advancing host,
+Doth not triumphant conquest proudly soar?
+And feels not every one a happier lot,
+Since Thoas, who so long hath guided us
+With wisdom and with valor, sway'd by thee.
+The joy of mild benignity approves,
+Which leads him to relax the rigid claims
+Of mute submission? Call thyself useless! Thou,
+When from thy being o'er a thousand hearts,
+A healing balsam flows? when to a race,
+To whom a god consign'd thee, thou dost prove
+A fountain of perpetual happiness,
+And from this dire inhospitable coast,
+Dost to the stranger grant a safe return?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The little done doth vanish to the mind,
+Which forward sees how much remains to do.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Him dost thou praise, who underrates his deeds?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Who weigheth his own deeds is justly blam'd.
+
+ARKAS
+
+He too, real worth too proudly who condemns,
+As who, too vainly, spurious worth o'er-rateth.
+Trust me, and heed the counsel of a man
+With honest zeal devoted to thy service:
+When Thoas comes to-day to speak with thee,
+Lend to his purposed words a gracious ear.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy well-intention'd counsel troubles me:
+His offer I have ever sought to shun.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Thy duty and thy interest calmly weigh.
+Sithence King Thoas lost his son and heir,
+Among his followers he trusts but few,
+And trusts those few no more as formerly.
+With jealous eye he views each noble's son
+As the successor of his realm, he dreads
+A solitary, helpless age--perchance
+Sudden rebellion and untimely death.
+A Scythian studies not the rules of speech,
+And least of all the king. He who is used
+To act and to command, knows not the art,
+From far, with subtle tact, to guide discourse
+Through many windings to its destin'd goal.
+Thwart not his purpose by a cold refusal,
+By an intended misconception. Meet,
+With gracious mien, half-way the royal wish.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Shall I then speed the doom that threatens me?
+
+ARKAS
+
+His gracious offer canst thou call a threat?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+'Tis the most terrible of all to me.
+
+ARKAS
+
+For his affection grant him confidence.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+If he will first redeem my soul from fear.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Why dost thou hide from him thy origin?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+A priestess secrecy doth well become.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Naught to a monarch should a secret be;
+And, though he doth not seek to fathom thine,
+His noble nature feels, ay, deeply feels,
+That thou with care dost hide thyself from him.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Ill-will and anger harbors he against me?
+
+ARKAS
+
+Almost it seems so. True, he speaks not of thee,
+But casual words have taught me that the wish
+Thee to possess hath firmly seiz'd his soul;
+O leave him not a prey unto himself,
+Lest his displeasure, rip'ning in his breast,
+Should work thee woe, so with repentance thou
+Too late my faithful counsel shalt recall.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How! doth the monarch purpose what no man
+Of noble mind, who loves his honest name,
+Whose bosom reverence for the gods restrains,
+Would ever think of? Will he force employ
+To drag me from the altar to his bed?
+Then will I call the gods, and chiefly thee,
+Diana, goddess resolute, to aid me;
+Thyself a virgin, wilt a virgin shield,
+And to thy priestess gladly render aid.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Be tranquil! Passion, and youth's fiery blood
+Impel not Thoas rashly to commit
+A deed so lawless. In his present mood,
+I fear from him another harsh resolve,
+Which (for his soul is steadfast and unmov'd)
+He then will execute without delay.
+Therefore I pray thee, canst thou grant no more;
+At least be grateful--give thy confidence.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oh tell me what is further known to thee.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Learn it from him. I see the king approach:
+Him thou dost honor, thine own heart enjoins
+To meet him kindly and with confidence.
+A man of noble mind may oft be led
+By woman's gentle word.
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+                           How to observe
+His faithful counsel see I not in sooth.
+But willingly the duty I perform
+Of giving thanks for benefits receiv'd,
+And much I wish that to the king my lips
+With truth could utter what would please his ear.
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Her royal gifts the goddess shower on thee
+Imparting conquest, wealth, and high renown
+Dominion, and the welfare of thy house,
+With the fulfilment of each pious wish,
+That thou, whose sway for multitudes provides,
+Thyself may'st be supreme in happiness!
+
+THOAS
+
+Contented were I with my people's praise;
+My conquests others more than I enjoy.
+Oh! be he king or subject, he's most blest;
+Whose happiness is centred in his home.
+My deep affliction thou didst share with me
+What time, in war's encounter, the fell sword
+Tore from my side my last, my dearest son;
+So long as fierce revenge possessed my heart,
+I did not feel my dwelling's dreary void;
+But now, returning home, my rage appeas'd,
+Their kingdom wasted, and my son aveng'd,
+I find there nothing left to comfort me.
+The glad obedience I was wont to see
+Kindling in every eye, is smother'd now
+In discontent and gloom; each, pondering, weighs
+The changes which a future day may bring,
+And serves the childless king, because he must.
+To-day I come within this sacred fane,
+Which I have often enter'd to implore
+And thank the gods for conquest. In my breast
+I bear an old and fondly-cherish'd wish,
+To which methinks thou canst not be a stranger;
+I hope, a blessing to myself and realm,
+To lead thee to my dwelling as my bride.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Too great thine offer, king, to one unknown;
+Abash'd the fugitive before thee stands,
+Who on this shore sought only what thou gavest,
+Safety and peace.
+
+THOAS
+
+                Thus still to shroud thyself
+From me, as from the lowest, in the veil
+Of mystery which wrapp'd thy coming here,
+Would in no country be deem'd just or right.
+Strangers this shore appall'd; 'twas so ordain'd,
+Alike by law and stern necessity.
+From thee alone--a kindly welcom'd guest,
+Who hast enjoy'd each hallow'd privilege,
+And spent thy days in freedom unrestrain'd--
+From thee I hop'd that confidence to gain
+Which every faithful host may justly claim.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+If I conceal'd, O king, my name, my race,
+It was embarrassment, and not mistrust.
+For didst thou know who stands before thee now,
+And what accursed head thine arm protects,
+Strange horror would possess thy mighty heart;
+And, far from wishing me to share thy throne,
+Thou, ere the time appointed, from thy realm
+Wouldst banish me; wouldst thrust me forth, perchance
+Before a glad reunion with my friends
+And period to my wand'rings is ordain'd,
+To meet that sorrow, which in every clime,
+With cold, inhospitable, fearful hand,
+Awaits the outcast, exil'd from his home.
+
+THOAS
+
+Whate'er respecting thee the gods decree,
+Whate'er their doom for thee and for thy house,
+Since thou hast dwelt amongst us, and enjoy'd
+The privilege the pious stranger claims,
+To me hath fail'd no blessing sent from heaven;
+And to persuade me, that protecting thee
+I shield a guilty head, were hard indeed.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy bounty, not the guest, draws blessings down.
+
+THOAS
+
+The kindness shown the wicked is not blest.
+End then thy silence, priestess; not unjust
+Is he who doth demand it. In my hands
+The goddess placed thee; thou hast been to me
+As sacred as to her, and her behest
+Shall for the future also be my law:
+If thou canst hope in safety to return
+Back to thy kindred, I renounce my claims:
+But is thy homeward path for ever closed--
+Or doth thy race in hopeless exile rove,
+Or lie extinguish'd by some mighty woe--
+Then may I claim thee by more laws than one.
+Speak openly, thou know'st I keep my word.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Its ancient bands reluctantly my tongue
+Doth loose, a long hid secret to divulge;
+For once imparted, it resumes no more
+The safe asylum of the inmost heart,
+But thenceforth, as the powers above decree,
+Doth work its ministry of weal or woe.
+Attend! I issue from the Titan's race.
+
+THOAS
+
+A word momentous calmly hast thou spoken.
+Him nam'st thou ancestor whom all the world
+Knows as a sometime favorite of the gods?
+Is it that Tantalus, whom Jove himself
+Drew to his council and his social board?
+On whose experienc'd words, with wisdom fraught,
+As on the language of an oracle,
+E'en gods delighted hung?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                       'Tis even he;
+But the immortal gods with mortal men
+Should not, on equal terms, hold intercourse;
+For all too feeble is the human race,
+Not to grow dizzy on unwonted heights.
+Ignoble was he not, and no betrayer;
+To be the Thunderer's slave, he was too great;
+To be his friend and comrade,--but a man.
+His crime was human, and their doom severe;
+For poets sing, that treachery and pride
+Did from Jove's table hurl him headlong down
+To grovel in the depths of Tartarus.
+Alas, and his whole race must bear their hate.
+
+THOAS
+
+Bear they their own guilt, or their ancestor's?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The Titan's mighty breast and nervous frame
+Was his descendants' certain heritage;
+But round their brow Jove forg'd a band of brass.
+Wisdom and patience, prudence and restraint,
+He from their gloomy, fearful eye conceal'd;
+In them each passion grew to savage rage,
+And headlong rush'd with violence uncheck'd.
+Already Pelops, Tantalus' loved son,
+Mighty of will, obtained his beauteous bride,
+Hippodamia, child of Oenomaus,
+Through treachery and murder; she ere long,
+To glad her consort's heart, bare him two sons,
+Thyest and Atreus. They with envy marked
+The ever-growing love their father bare
+To his first-born, sprung from another union.
+Hate leagued the pair, and secretly they wrought,
+In fratricide, the first dread crime. The sire
+Hippodamia held as murderess,
+With savage rage he claim'd from her his son,
+And she in terror did destroy herself--
+
+THOAS
+
+Thou'rt silent? Pause not in thy narrative;
+Repent not of thy confidence--say on!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How blest is he who his progenitors
+With pride remembers, to the listener tells
+The story of their greatness, of their deeds,
+And, silently rejoicing, sees himself
+The latest link of this illustrious chain!
+For seldom does the selfsame stock produce
+The monster and the demigod: a line
+Of good or evil ushers in, at last,
+The glory or the terror of the world.--
+After the death of Pelops, his two sons
+Rul'd o'er the city with divided sway.
+But such an union could not long endure.
+His brother's honor first Thyestes wounds.
+In vengeance Atreus drove him from the realm.
+Thyestes, planning horrors, long before
+Had stealthily procur'd his brother's son,
+Whom he in secret nurtur'd as his own.
+Revenge and fury in his breast he pour'd,
+Then to the royal city sent him forth,
+That in his uncle he might slay his sire.
+The meditated murder was disclos'd,
+And by the king most cruelly aveng'd,
+Who slaughter'd as he thought, his brother's son.
+Too late he learn'd whose dying tortures met
+His drunken gaze; and seeking to assuage
+The insatiate vengeance that possess'd his soul,
+He plann'd a deed unheard of. He assum'd
+A friendly tone, seem'd reconcil'd, appeas'd,
+And lur'd his brother, with his children twain,
+Back to his kingdom; these he seiz'd and slew;
+Then plac'd the loathsome and abhorrent food
+At his first meal before the unconscious sire.
+And when Thyestes had his hunger still'd
+With his own flesh, a sadness seiz'd his soul;
+He for his children ask'd,--their steps, their voice
+Fancied he heard already at the door;
+And Atreus, grinning with malicious joy,
+Threw in the members of the slaughter'd boys.--
+Shudd'ring, O king, thou dost avert thy face:
+So did the sun his radiant visage hide,
+And swerve his chariot from the eternal path.
+These, monarch, are thy priestess' ancestors,
+And many a dreadful fate of mortal doom,
+And many a deed of the bewilder'd brain,
+Dark night doth cover with her sable wing,
+Or shroud in gloomy twilight.
+
+THOAS
+
+                       Hidden there
+Let them abide. A truce to horror now,
+And tell me by what miracle thou sprangest
+From race so savage.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                    Atreus' eldest son
+Was Agamemnon; he, O king, my sire:
+But I may say with truth, that, from a child,
+In him the model of a perfect man
+I witness'd ever. Clytemnestra bore
+To him, myself, the firstling of their love,
+Electra then. Peaceful the monarch rul'd,
+And to the house of Tantalus was given
+A long-withheld repose. A son alone
+Was wanting to complete my parents' bliss;
+Scarce was this wish fulfill'd, and young Orestes,
+The household's darling, with his sisters grew,
+When new misfortunes vex'd our ancient house.
+To you hath come the rumor of the war,
+Which, to avenge the fairest woman's wrongs,
+The force united of the Grecian kings
+Round Ilion's walls encamp'd. Whether the town
+Was humbled, and achieved their great revenge,
+I have not heard. My father led the host.
+In Aulis vainly for a favoring gale
+They waited; for, enrag'd against their chief,
+Diana stay'd their progress, and requir'd,
+Through Chalcas' voice, the monarch's eldest daughter.
+They lured me with my mother to the camp,
+They dragged me to the altar, and this head
+There to the goddess doomed.--She was appeased;
+She did not wish my blood, and shrouded me
+In a protecting cloud; within this temple
+I first awakened from the dream of death;
+Yes, I myself am she, Iphigenia,
+Grandchild of Atreus, Agamemnon's child,
+Diana's priestess, I who speak with thee.
+
+THOAS
+
+I yield no higher honor or regard
+To the king's daughter than the maid unknown;
+Once more my first proposal I repeat;
+Come follow me, and share what I possess.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How dare I venture such a step, O king?
+Hath not the goddess who protected me
+Alone a right to my devoted head?
+'Twas she who chose for me this sanctuary,
+Where she perchance reserves me for my sire,
+By my apparent death enough chastis'd.
+To be the joy and solace of his age.
+Perchance my glad return is near; and how,
+If I, unmindful of her purposes,
+Had here attach'd myself against her will?
+I ask'd a signal, did she wish my stay.
+
+THOAS
+
+The signal is that still thou tarriest here.
+Seek not evasively such vain pretexts.
+Not many words are needed to refuse,
+The _no_ alone is heard by the refused.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Mine are not words meant only to deceive;
+I have to thee my inmost heart reveal'd.
+And doth no inward voice suggest to thee,
+How I with yearning soul must pine to see
+My father, mother, and my long-lost home?
+Oh let thy vessels bear me thither, king?
+That in the ancient halls, where sorrow still
+In accents low doth fondly breathe my name,
+Joy, as in welcome of a new-born child,
+May round the columns twine the fairest wreath.
+New life thou wouldst to me and mine impart.
+
+THOAS
+
+Then go! Obey the promptings of thy heart;
+And to the voice of reason and good counsel,
+Close thou thine ear. Be quite the woman, give
+To every wish the rein, that brideless
+May seize on thee, and whirl thee here and there.
+When burns the fire of passion in her breast,
+No sacred tie withholds her from the wretch
+Who would allure her to forsake for him
+A husband's or a father's guardian arms;
+Extinct within her heart its fiery glow,
+The golden tongue of eloquence in vain
+With words of truth and power assails her ear.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Remember now, O king, thy noble words!
+My trust and candor wilt thou thus repay?
+Thou seem'st, methinks, prepar'd to hear the truth.
+
+THOAS
+
+For this unlook'd-for answer not prepar'd.
+Yet 'twas to be expected; knew I not
+That with a woman I had now to deal?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Upbraid not thus, O king, our feeble sex!
+Though not in dignity to match with yours,
+The weapons woman wields are not ignoble.
+And trust me, Thoas, in thy happiness
+I have a deeper insight than thyself.
+Thou thinkest, ignorant alike of both,
+A closer union would augment our bliss;
+Inspir'd with confidence and honest zeal
+Thou strongly urgest me to yield consent;
+And here I thank the gods, who give me strength
+To shun a doom unratified by them.
+
+THOAS
+
+'Tis not a god, 'tis thine own heart that speaks.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+'Tis through the heart alone they speak to us.
+
+THOAS
+
+To hear them have I not an equal right?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The raging tempest drowns the still small voice.
+
+THOAS
+
+This voice no doubt the priestess hears alone.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Before all others should the prince attend it.
+
+THOAS
+
+Thy sacred office, and ancestral right
+To Jove's own table, place thee with the gods
+In closer union than an earth-born savage.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thus must I now the confidence atone
+Thyself didst wring from me!
+
+THOAS
+
+                              I am a man.
+And better 'tis we end this conference.
+Hear then my last resolve. Be priestess still
+Of the great goddess who selected thee;
+And may she pardon me, that I from her,
+Unjustly and with secret self-reproach,
+Her ancient sacrifice so long withheld.
+From olden time no stranger near'd our shore
+But fell a victim at her sacred shrine.
+But thou, with kind affection (which at times
+Seem'd like a gentle daughter's tender love,
+At times assum'd to my enraptur'd heart
+The modest inclination of a bride),
+Didst so inthral me, as with magic bowls,
+That I forgot my duty. Thou didst rock
+My senses in a dream: I did not hear
+My people's murmurs: now they cry aloud,
+Ascribing my poor son's untimely death
+To this my guilt. No longer for thy sake
+Will I oppose the wishes of the crowd,
+Who urgently demand the sacrifice.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+For mine own sake I ne'er desired it from thee.
+Who to the gods ascribe a thirst for blood
+Do misconceive their nature, and impute
+To them their own inhuman dark desires.
+Did not Diana snatch me from the priest,
+Holding my service dearer than my death?
+
+THOAS
+
+'Tis not for us, on reason's shifting grounds,
+Lightly to guide and construe rites divine.
+Perform thy duty; I'll accomplish mine.
+Two strangers, whom in caverns of the shore
+We found conceal'd, and whose arrival here
+Bodes to my realm no good, are in my power.
+With them thy goddess may once more resume
+Her ancient, pious, long-suspended rites!
+I send them here,--thy duty not unknown.
+                                  [_Exit_.]
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+Gracious protectress! thou hast clouds
+To shelter innocence distress'd,
+And from the arms of iron fate,
+Gently to waft her o'er the sea,
+O'er the wide earth's remotest realms,
+Where'er it seemeth good to thee.
+Wise art thou,--thine all-seeing eye
+The future and the past surveys;
+Thy glance doth o'er thy children rest,
+E'en as thy light, the life of night,
+Keeps o'er the earth its silent watch.
+O Goddess! keep my hands from blood!
+Blessing it never brings, and peace;
+And still in evil hours the form
+Of the chance-murder'd man appears
+To fill the unwilling murderer's soul
+With horrible and gloomy fears.
+For fondly the Immortals view
+Man's widely scatter'd simple race;
+And the poor mortal's transient life
+Gladly prolong, that he may lift
+Awhile to their eternal heavens
+His sympathetic joyous gaze.
+
+
+ACT II
+
+SCENE I
+
+ORESTES, PYLADES
+
+
+ORESTES
+
+It is the path of death that now we tread
+At every step my soul grows more serene.
+When I implor'd Apollo to remove
+The grisly band of Furies from my side,
+He seem'd, with hope-inspiring, godlike words,
+To promise aid and safety in the fane
+Of his lov'd sister, who o'er Tauris rules.
+Thus the prophetic word fulfils itself,
+That with my life shall terminate my woe.
+How easy 'tis for me, whose heart is crush'd,
+Whose sense is deaden'd by a hand divine,
+Thus to renounce the beauteous light of day!
+And must the son of Atreus not entwine
+The wreath of conquest round his dying brow--
+Must I, as my forefathers, as my sire,
+Bleed like a victim,--an ignoble death--
+So be it! Better at the altar here,
+Than in a nook obscure, where kindred hands
+Have spread assassination's wily net.
+Yield me this brief repose, infernal Powers!
+Ye, who, like loosen'd hounds, still scent the blood
+Which, trickling from my feet, betrays my path.
+Leave me! ere long I come to you below.
+Nor you, nor I, should view the light of day.
+The soft green carpet of the beauteous earth
+Is no arena for unhallow'd fiends.
+Below I seek you, where an equal fate
+Binds all in murky, never-ending night.
+Thee only, thee, my Pylades, my friend,
+The guiltless partner of my crime and curse,
+Thee am I loath, before thy time, to take
+To yonder cheerless shore! Thy life or death
+Alone awakens in me hope or fear.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Like thee, Orestes, I am not prepared
+Downwards to wander to yon realm of shade.
+I purpose still, through the entangled paths,
+Which seem as they would lead to blackest night,
+Again to wind our upward way to life.
+Of death I think not; I observe and mark
+Whether the gods may not perchance present
+Means and fit moment for a joyful flight.
+Dreaded or not, the stroke of death must come;
+And though the priestess stood with hand uprais'd,
+Prepar'd to cut our consecrated locks,
+Our safety still should be my only thought;
+Uplift thy soul above this weak despair;
+Desponding doubts but hasten on our peril.
+Apollo pledg'd to us his sacred word,
+That in his sister's holy fane for thee
+Were comfort, aid, and glad return prepar'd.
+The words of Heaven are not equivocal,
+As in despair the poor oppress'd one thinks.
+
+ORESTES
+
+The mystic web of life my mother cast
+Around my infant head, and so I grew
+An image of my sire; and my mute look
+Was aye a bitter and a keen reproof
+To her and base Ægisthus. Oh, how oft,
+When silently within our gloomy hall
+Electra sat, and mus'd beside the fire,
+Have I with anguish'd spirit climb'd her knee,
+And watch'd her bitter tears with sad amaze!
+Then would she tell me of our noble sire
+How much I long'd to see him--be with him!
+Myself at Troy one moment fondly wish'd,
+My sire's return, the next. The day arrived--
+
+PYLADES
+
+Oh, of that awful hour let fiends of hell
+Hold nightly converse! Of a time more fair
+May the remembrance animate our hearts
+To fresh heroic deeds. The gods require
+On this wide earth the service of the good,
+To work their pleasure. Still they count on thee;
+For in thy father's train they sent thee not,
+When he to Orcus went unwilling down.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Would I had seized the border of his robe,
+And followed him!
+
+PYLADES
+
+                  They kindly cared for me
+Who held thee here; for hadst thou ceased to live,
+I know not what had then become of me;
+Since I with thee, and for thy sake alone,
+Have from my childhood liv'd, and wish to live.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Remind me not of those delightsome days,
+When me thy home a safe asylum gave;
+With fond solicitude thy noble sire
+The half-nipp'd, tender flow'ret gently rear'd:
+While thou, a friend and playmate always gay,
+Like to a light and brilliant butterfly
+Around a dusky flower, didst day by day
+Around me with new life thy gambols urge,
+And breathe thy joyous spirit in my soul,
+Until, my cares forgetting, I with thee
+Was lur'd to snatch the eager joys of youth.
+
+PYLADES
+
+My very life began when thee I lov'd.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Say, then thy woes began, and thou speak'st truly.
+This is the sharpest sorrow of my lot,
+That, like a plague-infected wretch, I bear
+Death and destruction hid within my breast;
+That, where I tread, e'en on the healthiest spot,
+Ere long the blooming faces round betray
+The anguish'd features of a ling'ring death.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Were thy breath venom, I had been the first
+To die, that death, Orestes. Am I not,
+As ever, full of courage and of joy?
+And love and courage are the spirit's wings
+Wafting to noble actions.
+
+ORESTES
+
+                         Noble actions?
+Time was, when fancy painted such before us!
+When oft, the game pursuing, on we roam'd
+O'er hill and valley; hoping that ere long,
+Like our great ancestors in heart and hand,
+With club and weapon arm'd, we so might track
+The robber to his den, or monster huge.
+And then at twilight, by the boundless sea,
+Peaceful we sat, reclin'd against each other,
+The waves came dancing to our very feet,
+And all before us lay the wide, wide world;
+Then on a sudden one would seize his sword,
+And future deeds shone round us like the stars,
+Which gemm'd in countless throngs the vault of night.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Endless, my friend, the projects which the soul
+Burns to accomplish. We would every deed
+At once perform as grandly as it shows
+After long ages, when from land to land
+The poet's swelling song hath roll'd it on.
+It sounds so lovely what our fathers did,
+When, in the silent evening shade reclin'd,
+We drink it in with music's melting tones;
+And what we do is, as their deeds to them,
+Toilsome and incomplete!
+Thus we pursue what always flies before;
+We disregard the path in which we tread,
+Scarce see around the footsteps of our sires,
+Or heed the trace of their career on earth.
+We ever hasten on to chase their shades,
+Which, godlike, at a distance far remote,
+On golden clouds, the mountain summits crown.
+The man I prize not who esteems himself
+Just as the people's breath may chance to raise him.
+But thou, Orestes, to the gods give thanks.
+That they through thee have early done so much.
+
+ORESTES
+
+When they ordain a man to noble deeds,
+To shield from dire calamity his friends,
+Extend his empire, or protect its bounds,
+Or put to flight its ancient enemies,
+Let him be grateful! For to him a god
+Imparts the first, the sweetest joy of life.
+Me have they doom'd to be a slaughterer,
+To be an honor'd mother's murderer,
+And shamefully a deed of shame avenging,
+Me through their own decree they have o'erwhelm'd.
+Trust me, the race of Tantalus is doom'd;
+And I, his last descendant, may not perish,
+Or crown'd with honor or unstain'd by crime.
+
+PYLADES
+
+The gods avenge not on the son the deeds
+Done by the father. Each, or good or bad,
+Of his own actions reaps the due reward.
+The parents' blessing, not their curse, descends.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Methinks their blessing did not lead us here.
+
+PYLADES
+
+It was at least the mighty gods' decree.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Then is it their decree which doth destroy us.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Perform what they command, and wait the event.
+Do thou Apollo's sister bear from hence,
+That they at Delphi may united dwell,
+There by a noble-thoughted race revered,
+Thee, for this deed, the lofty pair will view
+With gracious eye, and from the hateful grasp
+Of the infernal Powers will rescue thee.
+E'en now none dares intrude within this grove.
+
+ORESTES
+
+So shall I die at least a peaceful death.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Far other are my thoughts, and not unskill'd
+Have I the future and the past combin'd
+In quiet meditation. Long, perchance,
+Hath ripen'd in the counsel of the gods
+The great event. Diana yearns to leave
+The savage coast of these barbarians,
+Foul with their sacrifice of human blood.
+We were selected for the high emprize;
+To us it is assign'd, and strangely thus
+We are conducted to the threshold here.
+
+ORESTES
+
+My friend, with wondrous skill thou link'st thy wish
+With the predestin'd purpose of the gods.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Of what avail is prudence, if it fail
+Heedful to mark the purposes of Heaven!
+A noble man, who much hath sinn'd, some god
+Doth summon to a dangerous enterprize,
+Which to achieve appears impossible.
+The hero conquers, and atoning serves
+Mortals and gods, who thenceforth honor him.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Am I foredoom'd to action and to life,
+Would that a god from my distemper'd brain
+Might chase this dizzy fever, which impels
+My restless steps along a slipp'ry path.
+Stain'd with a mother's blood, to direful death;
+And pitying, dry the fountain, whence the blood,
+For ever spouting from a mother's wounds,
+Eternally defiles me!
+
+PYLADES
+
+                         Wait in peace!
+Thou dost increase the evil, and dost take
+The office of the Furies on thyself.
+Let me contrive,--be still! And when at length
+The time for action claims our powers combin'd,
+Then will I summon thee, and on we'll stride,
+With cautious boldness to achieve the event.
+
+ORESTES
+
+I hear Ulysses speak.
+
+PYLADES
+
+                Nay, mock me not.
+Each must select the hero after whom
+To climb the steep and difficult ascent
+Of high Olympus. And to me it seems
+That him nor stratagem nor art defiles
+Who consecrates himself to noble deeds.
+
+ORESTES
+
+I most esteem the brave and upright man.
+
+PYLADES
+
+And therefore have I not desir'd thy counsel.
+One step's already taken. From our guards
+E'en now I this intelligence have gained.
+A strange and godlike woman holds in check
+The execution of that bloody law
+Incense, and prayer, and an unsullied heart,
+These are the gifts she offers to the gods.
+Rumor extols her highly, it is thought
+That from the race of Amazon she springs,
+And hither fled some great calamity.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Her gentle sway, it seems, lost all its power
+When hither came the culprit, whom the curse,
+Like murky night, envelops and pursues.
+Our doom to seal, the pious thirst for blood
+The ancient cruel rite again unchains
+The monarch's savage will decrees our death;
+A woman cannot save when he condemns.
+
+PYLADES
+
+That 'tis a woman, is a ground for hope!
+A man, the very best, with cruelty
+At length may so familiarize his mind,
+His character through custom so transform,
+That he shall come to make himself a law
+Of what at first his very soul abhorr'd.
+But woman doth retain the stamp of mind
+She first assum'd. On her we may depend
+In good or evil with more certainty.
+She comes; leave us alone. I dare not tell
+At once our names, nor unreserv'd confide
+Our fortunes to her. Now retire awhile,
+And ere she speaks with thee we'll meet again.
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+IPHIGENIA, PYLADES
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Whence art thou? Stranger, speak! To me thy bearing
+Stamps thee of Grecian, not of Scythian race.
+
+[_She unbinds his chains_.]
+
+The freedom that I give is dangerous;
+The gods avert the doom that threatens you!
+
+PYLADES
+
+Delicious music! dearly welcome tones
+Of our own language in a foreign land
+With joy my captive eye once more beholds
+The azure mountains of my native coast.
+Oh, let this joy that I, too, am a Greek
+Convince thee, priestess! How I need thine aid,
+A moment I forget, my spirit rapt
+In contemplation of so fair a vision.
+If fate's dread mandate doth not seal thy lips,
+From which of our illustrious races say,
+Dost thou thy godlike origin derive?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The priestess whom the goddess hath herself
+Selected and ordained, doth speak with thee.
+Let that suffice: but tell me, who art thou,
+And what unbless'd o'erruling destiny
+Hath hither led thee with thy friend?
+
+PYLADES
+
+                             The woe,
+Whose hateful presence ever dogs our steps,
+I can with ease relate. Oh, would that thou
+Couldst with like ease, divine one, shed on us
+One ray of cheering hope! We are from Crete,
+Adrastus' sons, and I, the youngest born,
+Named Cephalus; my eldest brother, he,
+Laodamas. Between us stood a youth
+Savage and wild, who severed e'en in sport
+The joy and concord of our early youth.
+Long as our father led his powers at Troy,
+Passive our mother's mandate we obey'd;
+But when, enrich'd with booty, he return'd,
+And shortly after died, a contest fierce
+Both for the kingdom and their father's wealth,
+His children parted. I the eldest joined;
+He slew our brother; and the Furies hence
+For kindred murder dog his restless steps.
+But to this savage shore the Delphian god
+Hath sent us, cheer'd by hope. He bade us wait
+Within his sister's consecrated fane
+The blessed hand of aid. Captives we are,
+And, hither brought, before thee now we stand
+Ordain'd for sacrifice. My tale is told.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Fell Troy! Dear man, assure me of its fall.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Prostrate it lies. O unto us ensure
+Deliverance. The promised aid of Heaven
+More swiftly bring. Take pity on my brother.
+O say to him a kind, a gracious word;
+But spare him when thou speakest, earnestly
+This I implore: for all too easily
+Through joy and sorrow and through memory
+Torn and distracted is his inmost being.
+A feverish madness oft doth seize on him,
+Yielding his spirit, beautiful and free,
+A prey to furies.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+               Great as is thy woe,
+Forget it, I conjure thee, for a while,
+Till I am satisfied.
+
+PYLADES
+
+                    The stately town,
+Which ten long years withstood the Grecian host,
+Now lies in ruins, ne'er to rise again;
+Yet many a hero's grave will oft recall
+Our sad remembrance to that barbarous shore.
+There lies Achilles and his noble friend.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+So are ye godlike forms reduc'd to dust!
+
+PYLADES
+
+Nor Palamede, nor Ajax, ere again
+The daylight of their native land beheld.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+He speaks not of my father, doth not name
+Him with the fallen. He may yet survive!
+I may behold him! still hope on, fond heart!
+
+PYLADES
+
+Yet happy are the thousands who receiv'd
+Their bitter death-blow from a hostile hand!
+For terror wild, and end most tragical.
+Some hostile, angry deity prepar'd,
+Instead of triumph, for the home-returning.
+Do human voices never reach this shore?
+Far as their sound extends, they bear the fame
+Of deeds unparallel'd. And is the woe
+Which fills Mycene's halls with ceaseless sighs
+To thee a secret still?--And know'st thou not
+That Clytemnestra, with Ægisthus' aid,
+Her royal consort artfully ensnar'd,
+And murder'd on the day of his return?--
+The monarch's house thou honorest! I perceive.
+Thy breast with tidings vainly doth contend
+Fraught with such monstrous and unlook'd for woe.
+Art thou the daughter of a friend? Art born
+Within the circuit of Mycene's walls?
+Conceal it not, nor call me to account
+That here the horrid crime I first announce.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Proceed, and tell me how the deed was done.
+
+PYLADES
+
+The day of his return, as from the bath
+Arose the monarch, tranquil and refresh'd,
+His robe demanding from his consort's hand,
+A tangled garment, complicate with folds,
+She o'er his shoulders flung and noble head;
+And when, as from a net, he vainly strove
+To extricate himself, the traitor, base
+Ægisthus, smote him, and envelop'd thus
+Great Agamemnon sought the shades below.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+And what reward receiv'd the base accomplice?
+
+PYLADES
+
+A queen and kingdom he possess'd already.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Base passion prompted then the deed of shame?
+
+PYLADES
+
+And feelings, cherish'd long, of deep revenge.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How had the monarch injured Clytemnestra?
+
+PYLADES
+
+By such a dreadful deed, that if on earth
+Aught could exculpate murder, it were this.
+To Aulis he allur'd her, when the fleet
+With unpropitious winds the goddess stay'd;
+And there, a victim at Diana's shrine,
+The monarch, for the welfare of the Greeks,
+Her eldest daughter doomed, Iphigenia.
+And this, so rumor saith, within her heart
+Planted such deep abhorrence that forthwith
+She to Ægisthus hath resigned herself,
+And round her husband flung the web of death.
+
+IPHIGENIA (_veiling herself_)
+
+It is enough! Thou wilt again behold me.
+
+PYLADES (_alone_)
+
+The fortune of this royal house, it seems,
+Doth move her deeply. Whosoe'er she be,
+She must herself have known the monarch well;--
+For our good fortune, from a noble house,
+She hath been sold to bondage. Peace, my heart!
+And let us steer our course with prudent zeal
+Toward the star of hope which gleams upon us.
+
+
+ACT III
+
+SCENE I
+
+IPHIGENIA, ORESTES
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Unhappy man, I only loose thy bonds
+In token of a still severer doom.
+The freedom which the sanctuary imparts,
+Like the last life-gleam o'er the dying face,
+But heralds death. I cannot, dare not, say
+Your doom is hopeless; for, with murderous hand,
+Could I inflict the fatal blow myself?
+And while I here am priestess of Diana,
+None, be he who he may, dare touch your heads.
+But the incensed king, should I refuse
+Compliance with the rites himself enjoin'd,
+Will choose another virgin from my train
+As my successor. Then, alas! with naught,
+Save ardent wishes, can I succor you.
+Much honored countrymen! The humblest slave,
+Who had but near'd our sacred household hearth,
+Is dearly welcome in a foreign land;
+How with proportion'd joy and blessing, then,
+Shall I receive the man who doth recall
+The image of the heroes, whom I learn'd
+To honor from my parents, and who cheers
+My inmost heart with flatt'ring gleams of hope!
+
+ORESTES
+
+Does prudent forethought prompt thee to conceal
+Thy name and race? or may I hope to know
+Who, like a heavenly vision, meets me thus?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Yes, thou shalt know me. Now conclude the tale
+Of which thy brother only told me half
+Relate their end, who coming home from Troy,
+On their own threshold met a doom severe
+And most unlook'd for. Young I was in sooth
+When first conducted to this foreign shore,
+Yet well I recollect the timid glance
+Of wonder and amazement which I cast
+On those heroic forms. When they went forth
+It seem'd as though Olympus had sent down
+The glorious figures of a bygone world,
+To frighten Ilion; and above them all,
+Great Agamemnon tower'd preeminent!
+Oh, tell me! Fell the hero in his home,
+Through Clytemnestra's and Ægisthus' wiles?
+
+ORESTES
+
+He fell!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+           Unblest Mycene! Thus the sons
+Of Tantalus, with barbarous hands, have sown
+Curse upon curse; and, as the shaken weed
+Scatters around a thousand poison-seeds,
+So they assassins ceaseless generate,
+Their children's children ruthless to destroy.--
+Now tell the remnant of thy brother's tale,
+Which horror darkly hid from me before.
+How did the last descendant of the race,--
+The gentle child, to whom the Gods assign'd
+The office of avenger,--how did he
+Escape that day of blood? Did equal fate
+Around Orestes throw Avernus' net
+Say, was he saved? and is he still alive?
+And lives Electra, too?
+
+ORESTES
+
+They both survive.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Golden Apollo, lend thy choicest beams!
+Lay them an offering at the throne of Jove!
+For I am poor and dumb.
+
+ORESTES
+
+                         If social bonds
+Or ties more close connect thee with this house,
+As this thy rapturous joy betrayeth to me,
+O then rein in thy heart and hold it fast!
+For insupportable the sudden plunge
+From happiness to sorrow's gloomy depth.
+Thou knowest only Agamemnon's death.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+And is not this intelligence enough?
+
+ORESTES
+
+Half of the horror only hast thou heard.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+What should I fear'? Orestes, Electra lives.
+
+ORESTES
+
+And fearest thou for Clytemnestra naught?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Her, neither hope nor fear have power to save.
+
+ORESTES
+
+She to the land of hope hath bid farewell.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Did her repentant hand shed her own blood?
+
+ORESTES
+
+Not so; yet her own blood inflicted death.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+More plainly speak, nor leave me in suspense.
+Uncertainty around my anxious head
+Her dusky, thousand-folded pinion waves.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Have then the powers above selected me
+To be the herald of a dreadful deed,
+Which in the drear and soundless realms of night
+I fain would hide for ever? 'Gainst my will
+Thy gentle voice constrains me; it demands,
+And shall receive, a tale of direst woe.
+Electra, on the day when fell her sire,
+Her brother from impending doom conceal'd;
+Him Strophius, his father's relative,
+Receiv'd with kindest care, and rear'd him up
+With his own son, named Pylades, who soon
+Around the stranger twin'd love's fairest bonds.
+And as they grew, within their inmost souls
+There sprang the burning longing to revenge
+The monarch's death. Unlook'd for, and disguis'd,
+They reach Mycene, feigning to have brought
+The mournful tidings of Orestes' death,
+Together with his ashes. Them the queen
+Gladly receives. Within the house they enter;
+Orestes to Electra shows himself:
+She fans the fires of vengeance into flame,
+Which in the sacred presence of a mother
+Had burn'd more dimly. Silently she leads
+Her brother to the spot where fell their sire;
+Where lurid blood-marks, on the oft-wash'd floor,
+With pallid streaks, anticipate revenge.
+With fiery eloquence she pictured forth
+Each circumstance of that atrocious deed,
+Her own oppress'd and miserable life,
+The prosperous traitor's insolent demeanor,
+The perils threat'ning Agamemnon's race
+From her who had become their stepmother,
+Then in his hand the ancient dagger thrust,
+Which often in the house of Tantalus
+With savage fury rag'd,--and by her son
+Was Clytemnestra slain.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                    Immortal powers!
+Whose pure and blest existence glides away
+'Mid ever shifting clouds, me have ye kept
+So many years secluded from the world,
+Retain'd me near yourselves, consign'd to me
+The childlike task to feed the sacred fire,
+And taught my spirit, like the hallow'd flame,
+With never-clouded brightness to aspire
+To your pure mansions,--but at length to feel
+With keener woe the horror of my house?
+O tell me of the poor unfortunate!
+Speak of Orestes!
+
+ORESTES
+
+O could I speak to tell thee of his death!
+Forth from the slain one's spouting blood arose
+His mother's ghost;
+And to the ancient daughters of the night
+Cries,--"Let him not escape,--the matricide!
+Pursue the victim, dedicate to you!"
+They hear, and glare around with hollow eyes,
+Like greedy eagles. In their murky dens
+They stir themselves, and from the corners creep
+Their comrades, dire Remorse and pallid Fear;
+Before them fumes a mist of Acheron;
+Perplexingly around the murderer's brow
+The eternal contemplation of the past
+Rolls in its cloudy circles. Once again
+The grisly band, commission'd to destroy,
+Pollute earth's beautiful and heaven-sown fields,
+From which an ancient curse had banish'd them.
+Their rapid feet the fugitive pursue;
+They only pause to start a wilder fear.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Unhappy one; thy lot resembles his,
+Thou feel'st what he, poor fugitive, must suffer.
+
+ORESTES
+
+What say'st thou? why presume my fate like his?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+A brother's murder weighs upon thy soul;
+Thy younger brother told the mournful tale.
+
+ORESTES
+
+I cannot suffer that thy noble soul
+Should by a word of falsehood be deceived.
+In cunning rich and practised in deceit
+A web ensnaring let the stranger weave
+To snare the stranger's feet; between us twain
+Be truth!
+I am Orestes! and this guilty head
+Is stooping to the tomb, and covets death;
+It will be welcome now in any shape.
+Whoe'er thou art, for thee and for my friend
+I wish deliverance--I desire it not.
+Thou seem'st to linger here against thy will;
+Contrive some means of flight, and leave me here
+My lifeless corpse hurl'd headlong from the rock,
+My blood shall mingle with the dashing waves,
+And bring a curse upon this barbarous shore!
+Return together home to lovely Greece,
+With joy a new existence to commence.
+
+[ORESTES _retires_.]
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+At length Fulfilment, fairest child of Jove,
+Thou dost descend upon me from on high!
+How vast thine image! Scarce my straining eye
+Can reach thy hands, which, fill'd with golden fruit
+And wreaths of blessing, from Olympus' height
+Shower treasures down. As by his bounteous gifts
+We recognize the monarch (for what seems
+To thousands opulence, is naught to him),
+So you, ye heavenly Powers, are also known
+By bounty long withheld, and wisely plann'd.
+Ye only know what things are good for us;
+Ye view the future's wide-extended realm,
+While from our eye a dim or starry veil
+ The prospect shrouds. Calmly ye hear our prayers,
+When we like children sue for greater speed.
+Not immature ye pluck heaven's golden fruit;
+And woe to him, who with impatient hand,
+His date of joy forestalling, gathers death.
+Let not this long-awaited happiness,
+Which yet my heart hath scarcely realiz'd,
+Like to the shadow of departed friends,
+Glide vainly by with triple sorrow fraught!
+
+ORESTES (_returning_)
+
+Dost thou for Pylades and for thyself
+Implore the gods, blend not my name with yours;
+Thou wilt not save the wretch whom thou wouldst join,
+But will participate his curse and woe.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+My destiny is firmly bound to thine.
+
+ORESTES
+
+No; say not so: alone and unattended
+Let me descend to Hades. Though thou shouldst
+In thine own veil enwrap the guilty one,
+Thou couldst not shroud him from his wakeful foes;
+And e'en thy sacred presence, heavenly maid,
+But driveth them aside and scares them not.
+With brazen, impious feet they dare not tread
+Within the precincts of this sacred grove
+Yet in the distance, ever and anon,
+I hear their horrid laughter, like the howl
+Of famish'd wolves, beneath the tree wherein
+The traveler hides. Without, encamp'd they lie,
+And should I quit this consecrated grove,
+Shaking their serpent locks, they would arise,
+And, raising clouds of dust on every side,
+Ceaseless pursue their miserable prey.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Orestes, canst thou hear a friendly word
+
+ORESTES
+
+Reserve it for one favor'd by the gods.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+To thee they give anew the light of hope.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Through clouds and smoke I see the feeble gleam
+Of the death-stream which lights me down to hell.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Hast thou one sister only, thy Electra?
+
+ORESTES
+
+I knew but one: yet her kind destiny,
+Which seemed to us so terrible, betimes
+Removed an elder sister from the woe
+Which o'er the house of Pelops aye impends.
+O cease thy questions, nor thus league thyself
+With the Erinnys; still they blow away,
+With fiendish joy, the ashes from my soul,
+Lest the last embers of the fiery brand
+The fatal heritage of Pelops' house,
+Should there be quenched. Must then the fire for aye,
+Deliberately kindled and supplied
+With hellish sulphur, sear my tortured soul!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I scatter fragrant incense in the flame.
+O let the pure, the gentle breath of love,
+Low murmuring, cool thy bosom's fiery glow.
+Orestes, fondly lov'd,--canst thou not hear me?
+Hath the terrific Furies' grisly band
+Dried up the blood of life within thy veins?
+Creeps there, as from the Gorgon's direful head,
+A petrifying charm through all thy limbs?
+With hollow accents from a mother's blood,
+If voices call thee to the shades below,
+May not a sister's word with blessing rife
+Call from Olympus' height help-rendering gods?
+
+ORESTES
+
+She calls! she calls!--Dost thou desire my doom?
+Is there a Fury shrouded in thy form?
+Who art thou, that thy voice thus horribly
+Can harrow up my bosom's inmost depths!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thine inmost heart reveals it. I am she,--
+Iphigenia,--look on me, Orestes!
+
+ORESTES
+
+Thou!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+My own brother!
+
+ORESTES
+
+                       Hence, away, begone!
+I counsel thee, touch not these fatal locks!
+As from Creusa's bridal robe, from me
+An inextinguishable fire is kindled.
+Leave me! Like Hercules, a death of shame,
+Unworthy wretch, locked in myself, I'll die!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thou shalt not perish! Would that I might hear
+One quiet word from thee! dispel my doubts,
+Make sure the bliss I have implored so long.
+A wheel of joy and sorrow in my heart,
+Ceaseless revolves. I from a man unknown
+With horror turn; but with resistless might
+My inmost heart impels me to my brother.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Is this Lyæus' temple? Doth the glow
+Of holy rage unbridled thus possess
+The sacred priestess?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                        Hear me, oh, look up!
+See how my heart, which hath been closed so long
+Doth open to the bliss of seeing thee,
+The dearest treasure that the world contains,--
+Of falling on thy neck, and folding thee
+Within my longing arms, which have till now
+Met the embraces of the empty wind.
+Do not repulse me,--the eternal spring,
+Whose crystal waters from Parnassus flow,
+Bounds not more gaily on from rock to rock,
+Down to the golden vale, than from my heart
+The waters of affection freely gush,
+And round me form a circling sea of bliss.
+Orestes! O my brother!
+
+ORESTES
+
+                         Lovely nymph!
+Nor thy caresses, nor thyself I trust;
+Diana claims attendants more severe,
+And doth avenge her desecrated fane.
+Remove thy circling arm! Wilt thou indeed
+Safety and love upon a youth bestow,
+And fondly tender him earth's fairest joy
+Unto my friend, more worthy than myself,
+Impart thy favors; 'mong yon rocks he roves.
+Go, seek him; guide him hence, and heed not me.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Brother, command thyself, and better know
+Thy sister, newly found! Misconstrue not
+Her pure and heavenly rapture, blaming it
+As lustful heat unbridled. O ye gods,
+Remove delusion from his rigid gaze,
+Lest that this moment, fraught with bliss supreme,
+Should make us trebly wretched! She is here,
+Thine own, thy long-lost sister! From the altar
+The goddess rescued me, and placed me here,
+Secure within her consecrated fane--
+A captive thou, prepared for sacrifice,
+And findest here a sister in the priestess.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Unblessèd one! So may the radiant sun
+The final horror of our house behold!
+Is not Electra here? That she with us
+May also perish, nor her life prolong
+For heavier destiny and direr woe.
+'Tis well,--I follow, priestess! Fratricide
+Is an old custom of our ancient house;
+And you, ye gods, I thank, that ye resolve
+Childless to root me hence. Thee let me counsel
+To view too fondly neither sun nor stars.
+Come, follow to the gloomy realms below!
+As dragons, gender'd in the sulphur pool,
+Swallow each other with voracious rage,
+So our accursed race destroys itself.
+Childless and guiltless come below with me!
+There's pity in thy look! oh, gaze not so,--
+'Twas with such looks that Clytemnestra sought
+An entrance to her son Orestes' heart,
+And yet his uprais'd arm her bosom pierc'd.
+His mother fell!--Appear, indignant shade!
+Within the circle step, ye fiends of hell,
+Be present at the welcome spectacle,
+The last, most horrible that ye prepare!
+Nor hate, nor vengeance whets the poniard now;
+A loving sister is constrain'd to deal
+The fatal blow. Weep not! Thou hast no guilt.
+From earliest infancy I naught have lov'd,
+As thee I could have lov'd, my sister. Come,
+The weapon raise, spare not, this bosom rend,
+And make an outlet for its boiling streams!
+
+[_He sinks exhausted_.]
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Alone I cannot bear this bliss and woe.
+Where art thou, Pylades? Thine aid I need.
+[IPHIGENIA _retires_.]
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+ORESTES (_recovering from his swoon and standing up_)
+
+Give yet another! reach from Lethe's stream
+The last reviving draught of cool refreshment!
+Soon shall its waters in my bosom still
+Life's fitful fever; and my spirit then
+Adown oblivion's stream shall glide to you,
+Ye spirits shrouded in eternal mist.
+With tranquil pleasure in your deep repose
+A weary son of earth may lave his soul!--
+What whisp'ring sounds pervade the dreary grove?
+What hollow murmurs haunt its twilight gloom?--
+They gather round to view the stranger guest!
+Who are you troop in high communion met,
+Like an assembled family of princes?
+They mingle peacefully, of every age,
+Of either sex; godlike, of kindred mould,
+Appear the gliding figures. Yes, 'tis they,
+The fathers of my race! With Atreus,
+In friendly converse glides Thyestes' shade,
+And children playfully around them sport.
+Is there no enmity among you now?
+And is revenge extinguish'd with the sun
+So am I also welcome, and may hope
+To mingle in your solemn company.
+Welcome, my sires! Orestes bids you hail!
+The seed that ye have sow'd, that hath he reap'd.
+Laden with curses he descends to you.
+But burdens here are lighter far to bear.
+Receive him, oh, receive him in your circle!
+Thee, Atreus, I revere, and thee, Thyestes
+Here all are free from enmity and hate.--
+Show me my father, whom I only once
+In life beheld.--Art thou my father, thou,
+My mother leading thus familiarly?
+Dares Clytemnestra reach her hand to thee
+Then may Orestes also draw near her,
+And say, Behold thy son!--My ancestors,
+Behold your son, and bid him welcome here.
+Among the sons of ancient Tantalus,
+A kind salute on earth was murder's watchword,
+And all their joys commence beyond the grave.
+Ye welcome me! Ye bid me join your circle!
+Oh, lead me to my honor'd ancestor!
+Where is our aged sire? Let me behold
+The dear, the venerable head of him
+Who with the immortal gods in council sat.
+Ye seem to shudder and to turn away!
+What may this mean? Suffers the godlike man?
+Alas! the mighty gods, with ruthless hate,
+To his heroic breast, with brazen chains,
+Have cruel pangs indissolubly bound.
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+ORESTES, IPHIGENIA, PYLADES
+
+
+ORESTES
+
+How! Are ye come already here below?
+Welcome, my sister! Still Electra fails;
+O that some kindly god, with gentle arrow,
+Her too, full speedily, would downward send!
+Thee, hapless friend, I must compassionate!
+Come with me! Come! To Pluto's gloomy throne,
+There to salute our hosts like stranger guests.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Celestial pair, who from the realms above
+By night and day shed down the beauteous light
+To cheer mankind, but who may not illume
+Departed spirits, save a mortal pair!
+A brother's and a sister's anguish pity!
+For thou, Diana, lov'st thy gentle brother
+Beyond what earth and heaven can offer thee;
+And dost, with quiet yearning, ever turn
+Thy virgin face to his eternal light.
+
+[Illustration: MEETING OF ORESTES AND PYLADES]
+
+Let not my only brother, found so late,
+Rave in the darkness of insanity!
+And is thy will, when 'thou didst here conceal me,
+At length fulfill'd,--wouldst thou to me through him
+To him through me, thy gracious aid extend,--
+Oh, free him from the fetters of this curse,
+Lest vainly pass the precious hours of safety.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Dost thou not know us, and this sacred grove,
+And this blest light, which shines not on the dead?
+Dost thou not feel thy sister and thy friend,
+Who hold thee living in their firm embrace?
+Us firmly grasp; we are not empty shades.
+Mark well my words! Collect thy scatter'd thoughts!
+Attend! Each moment is of priceless worth,
+And our return hangs on a slender thread,
+Which, as it seems, some gracious fate doth spin.
+
+ORESTES (_to_ IPHIGENIA)
+
+My sister, let me for the first time taste,
+With open hearts pure joy within thine arms!
+Ye gods, who charge the heavy clouds with dread,
+And sternly gracious send the long-sought rain
+With thunder and the rush of mighty winds,
+A horrid deluge on the trembling earth;
+Yet dissipate at length man's dread suspense,
+Exchanging timid wonder's anxious gaze
+For grateful looks and joyous songs of praise,
+When in each sparkling drop which gems the leaves,
+Apollo, thousand-fold, reflects his beam,
+And Iris colors with a magic hand
+The dusty texture of the parting clouds;
+Oh, let me also in my sister's arms,
+And on the bosom of my friend, enjoy
+With grateful thanks the bliss ye now bestow;
+My heart assures me that your curses cease.
+The dread Eumenides at length retire,
+The brazen gates of Tartarus I hear
+Behind them closing with a thunderous clang.
+A quick'ning odor from the earth ascends,
+Inviting me to chase, upon its plains,
+The joys of life and deeds of high emprize.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Lose not the moments which are limited!
+The favoring gale, which swells our parting sail,
+Must to Olympus waft our perfect joy.
+Quick counsel and resolve the time demands.
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+SCENE I
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+When the Powers on high decree
+For a feeble child of earth
+Dire perplexity and woe,
+And his spirit doom to pass
+With tumult wild from joy to grief,
+And back again from grief to joy,
+In fearful alternation;
+They in mercy then provide,
+In the precincts of his home,
+Or upon the distant shore,
+That to him may never fail
+Ready help in hours of need,
+A tranquil, faithful friend.
+Oh, bless, ye heavenly powers, our Pylades,
+And whatsoever he may undertake!
+He is in fight the vigorous arm of youth,
+And his the thoughtful eye of age in counsel;
+For tranquil is his soul; he guardeth there
+Of calm a sacred and exhaustless dower,
+And from its depths, in rich supply, outpours
+Comfort and counsel for the sore distressed.
+He tore me from my brother, upon whom,
+With fond amaze, I gaz'd and gaz'd again;
+I could not realize my happiness,
+Nor loose him from my arms, and heeded not
+The danger's near approach that threatens us.
+To execute their project of escape,
+They hasten to the sea, where in a bay
+Their comrades in the vessel lie conceal'd
+Waiting a signal. Me they have supplied
+With artful answers, should the monarch send
+To urge the sacrifice. Alas! I see
+I must consent to follow like a child,
+I have not learn'd deception, nor the art
+To gain with crafty wiles my purposes.
+Detested falsehood! it doth not relieve
+The breast like words of truth: it comforts not,
+But is a torment in the forger's heart,
+And, like an arrow which a god directs,
+Flies back and wounds the archer. Through my heart
+One fear doth chase another; perhaps with rage,
+Again on the unconsecrated shore,
+The Furies' grisly band my brother seize.
+Perchance they are surpris'd! Methinks, I hear
+The tread of armèd men. A messenger
+Is coming from the king, with hasty steps.
+How throbs my heart, how troubled is my soul,
+Now that I gaze upon the face of one,
+Whom with a word untrue I must encounter!
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+IPHIGENIA, ARKAS
+
+
+ARKAS
+
+Priestess, with speed conclude the sacrifice!
+Impatiently the king and people wait.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I had perform'd my duty and thy will,
+Had not an unforeseen impediment
+The execution of my purpose thwarted.
+
+ARKAS
+
+What is it that obstructs the king's commands?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Chance, which from mortals will not brook control.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Possess me with the reason, that with speed
+I may inform the king, who hath decreed
+The death of both.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+            The gods have not decreed it.
+The elder of these men doth bear the guilt
+Of kindred murder; on his steps attend
+The dread Erinnys. In the inner fane
+They seized upon their prey, polluting thus
+The holy sanctuary. I hasten now,
+Together with my virgin-train, to bathe
+The goddess' image in the sea, and there
+With solemn rites its purity restore.
+Let none presume our silent march to follow!
+
+ARKAS
+
+This hindrance to the monarch I'll announce
+Commence not thou the rite till he permit.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The priestess interferes alone in this.
+
+ARKAS
+
+An incident so strange the king should know.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Here, nor his counsel nor command avails.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Oft are the great consulted out of form.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Do not insist on what I must refuse.
+
+ARKAS
+
+A needful and a just demand refuse not.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I yield, if thou delay not.
+
+ARKAS
+
+                               I with speed
+Will bear these tidings to the camp, and soon
+Acquaint thee, priestess, with the king's reply.
+There is a message I would gladly bear him;
+'Twould quickly banish all perplexity
+Thou didst not heed thy faithful friend's advice.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I willingly have done whate'er I could.
+
+ARKAS
+
+E'en now 'tis not too late to change thy purpose.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+To do so is, alas, beyond our power.
+
+ARKAS
+
+What thou wouldst shun, thou deem'st impossible.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy wish doth make thee deem it possible.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Wilt thou so calmly venture everything?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+My fate I have committed to the gods.
+
+ARKAS
+
+The gods are wont to save by human means.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+By their appointment everything is done.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Believe me, all doth now depend on thee.
+The irritated temper of the king
+Alone condemns these men to bitter death.
+The soldiers from the cruel sacrifice
+And bloody service long have been disused;
+Nay, many, whom their adverse fortunes cast
+In foreign regions, there themselves have felt
+How godlike to the exil'd wanderer
+The friendly countenance of man appears.
+Do not deprive us of thy gentle aid!
+With ease thou canst thy sacred task fulfil;
+For nowhere doth benignity, which comes
+In human form from heaven, so quickly gain
+An empire o'er the heart, as where a race,
+Gloomy and savage, full of life and power,
+Without external guidance, and oppress'd
+With vague forebodings, bear life's heavy load.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Shake not my spirit, which thou canst not bend
+According to thy will.
+
+ARKAS
+
+                    While there is time
+Nor labor nor persuasion shall be spar'd.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy labor but occasions pain to me;
+Both are in vain; therefore, I pray, depart.
+
+ARKAS
+
+I summon pain to aid me, 'tis a friend
+Who counsels wisely.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                  Though it shakes my soul,
+It doth not banish thence my strong repugnance.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Can then a gentle soul repugnance feel
+For benefits bestow'd by one so noble?
+
+[Illustration: IPHIGENIA From the Painting by Max Nonnenbruch]
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Yes, when the donor, for those benefits,
+Instead of gratitude, demands myself.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Who no affection feels doth never want
+Excuses. To the king I will relate
+What hath befallen. O that in thy soul
+Thou wouldst revolve his noble conduct to thee
+Since thy arrival to the present day!
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+These words at an unseasonable hour
+Produce a strong revulsion in my breast;
+I am alarm'd!--For as the rushing tide
+In rapid currents eddies o'er the rocks
+Which lie among the sand upon the shore;
+E'en so a stream of joy o'erwhelm'd my soul.
+I grasp'd what had appear'd impossible.
+It was as though another gentle cloud
+Around me lay, to raise me from the earth,
+And rock my spirit in the same sweet sleep
+Which the kind goddess shed around my brow,
+What time her circling arm from danger snatched me.
+My brother forcibly engross'd my heart;
+I listen'd only to his friend's advice;
+My soul rush'd eagerly to rescue them,
+And as the mariner with joy surveys
+The less'ning breakers of a desert isle,
+So Tauris lay behind me. But the voice
+Of faithful Arkas wakes me from my dream,
+Reminding me that those whom I forsake
+Are also men. Deceit doth now become
+Doubly detested. O my soul, be still!
+Beginn'st thou now to tremble and to doubt?
+Thy lonely shelter on the firm-set earth
+Must thou abandon? and, embark'd once more,
+At random drift upon tumultuous waves,
+A stranger to thyself and to the world?
+
+
+SCENE IV
+
+IPHIGENIA, PYLADES
+
+
+PYLADES
+
+Where is she? that my words with speed may tell
+The joyful tidings of our near escape!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oppress'd with gloomy care, I much require
+The certain comfort thou dost promise me.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Thy brother is restor'd! The rocky paths
+Of this unconsecrated shore we trod
+In friendly converse, while behind us lay,
+Unmark'd by us, the consecrated grove;
+And ever with increasing glory shone
+The fire of youth around his noble brow.
+Courage and hope his glowing eye inspir'd;
+And his exultant heart resigned itself
+To the delight, the joy, of rescuing
+Thee, his deliverer, also me, his friend.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The gods shower blessings on thee, Pylades!
+And from those lips which breathe such welcome news
+Be the sad note of anguish never heard!
+
+PYLADES
+
+I bring yet more,--for Fortune, like a prince,
+Comes not alone, but well accompanied.
+Our friends and comrades we have also found.
+Within a bay they had conceal'd the ship,
+And mournful sat expectant. They beheld
+Thy brother, and a joyous shout uprais'd,
+Imploring him to haste the parting hour.
+Each hand impatient long'd to grasp the oar,
+While from the shore a gently murmuring breeze,
+Perceiv'd by all, unfurl'd its wing auspicious.
+Let us then hasten; guide me to the fane,
+That I may tread the sanctuary, and win
+With sacred awe the goal of our desires.
+I can unaided on my shoulder bear
+The goddess' image: how I long to feel
+The precious burden!
+
+(_While speaking the last words, he approaches the
+Temple, without perceiving that he is not followed
+by_ IPHIGENIA: _at length he turns around_.)
+
+                   Why thus lingering stand?
+Why art thou silent? wherefore thus confus'd?
+Doth some new obstacle oppose our bliss?
+Inform me, hast thou to the king announc'd
+The prudent message we agreed upon?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I have, dear Pylades; yet wilt thou chide.
+Thy very aspect is a mute reproach.
+The royal messenger arriv'd, and I,
+According to thy counsel, fram'd my speech.
+He seem'd surpris'd, and urgently besought,
+That to the monarch I should first announce
+The rite unusual, and attend his will.
+I now await the messenger's return.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Danger again doth hover o'er our heads!
+Alas! Why hast thou failed to shroud thyself
+Within the veil of sacerdotal rites?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I never have employ'd them as a veil.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Pure soul! thy scruples will destroy alike
+Thyself and us. Why did I not forsee
+Such an emergency, and tutor thee
+This counsel also wisely to elude?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Chide only me, for mine alone the blame.
+Yet other answer could I not return
+To him, who strongly and with reason urged
+What my own heart acknowledg'd to be right.
+
+PYLADES
+
+The danger thickens; but let us be firm.
+Nor with incautious haste betray ourselves;
+Calmly await the messenger's return,
+And then stand fast, whatever his reply:
+For the appointment of such sacred rites
+Doth to the priestess, not the king, belong.
+Should he demand the stranger to behold,
+Who is by madness heavily oppress'd,
+Evasively pretend, that in the fane,
+Well guarded, thou retainest him and me.
+Thus you secure us time to fly with speed,
+Bearing the sacred treasure from this race,
+Unworthy its possession. Phoebus sends
+Auspicious omens, and fulfils his word,
+Ere we the first conditions have perform'd.
+Free is Orestes, from the curse absolv'd!
+Oh, with the freed one, to the rocky isle
+Where dwells the god, waft us, propitious gales.
+Thence to Mycene, that she may revive;
+That from the ashes of the extinguish'd hearth,
+The household gods may joyously arise,
+And beauteous fire illumine their abode!
+Thy hand from golden censers first shall strew
+The fragrant incense. O'er that threshold thou
+Shalt life and blessing once again dispense,
+The curse atone, and all thy kindred grace
+With the fresh bloom of renovated life.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+As doth the flower revolve to meet the sun,
+Once more my spirit to sweet comfort turns,
+Struck by thy words' invigorating ray.
+How dear the counsel of a present friend,
+Lacking whose godlike power, the lonely one
+In silence droops! for, lock'd within his breast,
+Slowly are ripen'd purpose and resolve,
+Which friendship's genial warmth had soon matur'd.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Farewell! I haste to re-assure our friends,
+Who anxiously await us: then with speed
+I will return, and, hid within the brake,
+Attend thy signal.--Wherefore, all at once,
+Doth anxious thought o'ercloud thy brow serene?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Forgive me! As light clouds athwart the sun,
+So cares and fears float darkling o'er my soul.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Oh, banish fear! With danger it hath form'd
+A close alliance,--they are constant friends.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+It is an honest scruple, which forbids
+That I should cunningly deceive the king,
+And plunder him who was my second father.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Him thou dost fly, who would have slain thy brother.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+To me, at least, he hath been ever kind.
+
+PYLADES
+
+What Fate commands is not ingratitude.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+Alas! it still remains ingratitude;
+Necessity alone can justify it.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Thee, before gods and men, it justifies.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+But my own heart is still unsatisfied.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Scruples too rigid are a cloak for pride.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I cannot argue, I can only feel.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Conscious of right, thou shouldst respect thyself.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Then only doth the heart know perfect ease.
+When not a stain pollutes it.
+
+PYLADES
+
+                              In this fane
+Pure hast thou kept thy heart. Life teaches us
+To be less strict with others and ourselves;
+Thou'lt learn the lesson too. So wonderful
+Is human nature, and its varied ties
+Are so involv'd and complicate, that none
+May hope to keep his inmost spirit pure,
+And walk without perplexity through life.
+Nor are we call'd upon to judge ourselves;
+With circumspection to pursue his path,
+Is the immediate duty of a man;
+For seldom can he rightly estimate,
+Of his past conduct or his present deeds.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Almost thou dost persuade me to consent.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Needs there persuasion when no choice is granted?
+To save thyself, thy brother, and a friend,
+One path presents itself, and canst thou ask
+If we shall follow it?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                   Still let me pause,
+For such injustice thou couldst not thyself
+Calmly return for benefits receiv'd.
+
+PYLADES
+
+If we should perish, bitter self-reproach,
+Forerunner of despair, will be thy portion.
+It seems thou art not used to suffer much,
+when, to escape so great calamity,
+Thou canst refuse to utter one false word.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oh, that I bore within a manly heart!
+Which, when it hath conceiv'd a bold resolve,
+'Gainst every other voice doth close itself.
+
+PYLADES
+
+In vain thou dost refuse; with iron hand
+Necessity commands; her stern decree
+Is law supreme, to which the gods themselves
+Must yield submission. In dread silence rules
+The uncounsell'd sister of eternal fate.
+What she appoints thee to endure,--endure;
+What to perform,--perform. The rest thou knowest.
+Ere long I will return, and then receive
+The seal of safety from thy sacred hand.
+
+
+SCENE V
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+I must obey him, for I see my friends
+Beset with peril. Yet my own sad fate
+Doth with increasing anguish move my heart.
+May I no longer feed the silent hope
+Which in my solitude I fondly cherish'd?
+Shall the dire curse eternally endure?
+And shall our fated race ne'er rise again
+With blessings crown'd?--All mortal things decay--
+The noblest powers, the purest joys of life
+At length subside: then wherefore not the curse?
+And have I vainly hoped that, guarded here,
+Secluded from the fortunes of my race,
+I, with pure heart and hands, some future day
+Might cleanse the deep defilement of our house?
+Scarce was my brother in my circling arms
+From raging madness suddenly restor'd,
+Scarce had the ship, long pray'd for, near'd the strand
+Once more to waft me to my native shores,
+When unrelenting Fate, with iron hand,
+A double crime enjoins; commanding me
+To steal the image, sacred and rever'd,
+Confided to my care, and him deceive
+To whom I owe my life and destiny.
+Let not abhorrence spring within my heart!
+Nor the old Titan's hate, toward you, ye gods
+Infix its vulture talons in my breast!
+Save me and save your image in my soul!
+
+An ancient song comes back upon mine ear--
+I had forgotten it, and willingly--
+The Parcæ's song, which horribly they sang,
+What time, hurl'd headlong from his golden seat,
+Fell Tantalus. They with their noble friend
+Keen anguish suffer'd; savage was their breast
+And horrible their song. In days gone by,
+When we were children, oft our ancient nurse
+Would sing it to us, and I mark'd it well.
+
+  Oh, fear the immortals,
+  Ye children of men!
+  Eternal dominion
+  They hold in their hands,
+  And o'er their wide empire
+  Wield absolute sway.
+  Whom they have exalted
+  Let him fear them most!
+  Around golden tables,
+  On cliffs and clouds resting
+  The seats are prepar'd.
+
+  If contest ariseth,
+  The guests are hurl'd headlong,
+  Disgrac'd and dishonor'd,
+  To gloomy abysses,
+  And, fetter'd in darkness,
+  Await the vain longing
+  A juster decree.
+
+  But in feasts everlasting,
+  Around the gold tables
+  Still dwell the immortals.
+  From mountain to mountain
+  They stride; while ascending
+  From fathomless chasms
+  The breath of the Titans,
+  Half-stifled with anguish,
+  Like volumes of incense
+  Fumes up to the skies.
+
+  From races ill-fated,
+  Their-aspect joy-bringing,
+  Oft turn the celestials,
+  And shun in the children
+  To gaze on the features
+  Once lov'd and still speaking
+  Of their mighty sire.
+
+  So chanted the Parcae;
+  The banish'd one hearkens
+  The song, the hoar captive
+  Immur'd in his dungeon,
+  His children's doom ponders,
+  And boweth his head.
+
+
+ACT V
+
+SCENE I
+
+THOAS, ARKAS
+
+
+ARKAS
+
+I own I am perplex'd and scarcely know
+'Gainst whom to point the shaft of my suspicion,
+Whether the priestess aids the captives' flight,
+Or they themselves clandestinely contrive it.
+'Tis rumor'd that the ship which brought them here
+Is lurking somewhere in a bay conceal'd.
+This stranger's madness, these new lustral rites,
+The specious pretext for delay, excite
+Mistrust, and call aloud for vigilance.
+
+THOAS
+
+Summon the priestess to attend me here!
+Then go with speed, and strictly search the shore,
+From yonder headland to Diana's grove:
+Forbear to violate its sacred depths,
+A watchful ambush set, attack and seize,
+According to your wont, whome'er ye find.
+[ARKAS _retires_.]
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+THOAS (_alone_)
+
+Fierce anger rages in my riven breast,
+First against her, whom I esteemed so pure;
+Then 'gainst myself, whose foolish lenity
+Hath fashion'd her for treason. Man is soon
+Inur'd to slavery, and quickly learns
+Submission, when of freedom quite depriv'd.
+If she had fallen in the savage hands
+Of my rude sires, and had their holy rage
+Forborne to slay her, grateful for her life,
+She would have recogniz'd her destiny,
+Have shed before the shrine the stranger's blood,
+And duty nam'd what was necessity.
+
+Now my forbearance in her breast allures
+Audacious wishes. Vainly I had hoped
+To bind her to me; rather she contrives
+To shape an independent destiny.
+She won my heart through flattery; and now
+That I oppose her, seeks to gain her ends
+By fraud and cunning, and my kindness deems
+A worthless and prescriptive property.
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Me hast thou summon'd? wherefore art thou here?
+
+THOAS
+
+Wherefore delay the sacrifice? inform me.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I have acquainted Arkas with the reasons.
+
+THOAS
+
+From thee I wish to hear them more at large.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The goddess for reflection grants thee time.
+
+THOAS
+
+To thee this time seems also opportune.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+If to this cruel deed thy heart is steel'd,
+Thou shouldst not come! A king who meditates
+A deed inhuman, may find slaves enow,
+Willing for hire to bear one-half the curse,
+And leave the monarch's presence undefil'd.
+Enrapt in gloomy clouds he forges death,
+Flaming destruction then his ministers
+Hurl down upon his wretched victim's head,
+While he abideth high above the storm,
+Calm and untroubled, an impassive god.
+
+THOAS
+
+A wild song, priestess, issued from thy lips.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+No priestess, king! but Agamemnon's daughter;
+While yet unknown, thou didst respect my words
+A princess now,--and think'st thou to command me?
+From youth I have been tutor'd to obey,
+My parents first and then the deity;
+And thus obeying, ever hath my soul
+Known sweetest freedom. But nor then nor now
+Have I been taught compliance with the voice
+And savage mandates of a man.
+
+THOAS
+
+                         Not I,
+An ancient law doth thy obedience claim.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Our passions eagerly catch hold of laws
+Which they can wield as weapons. But to me
+Another law, one far more ancient, speaks
+And doth command me to withstand thee, king!
+That law declaring sacred every stranger.
+
+THOAS
+
+These men, methinks, lie very near thy heart,
+When sympathy with them can lead thee thus
+To violate discretion's primal law,
+That those in power should never be provok'd.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Speaking or silent, thou canst always know
+What is, and ever must be, in my heart.
+Doth not remembrance of a common doom,
+To soft compassion melt the hardest heart?
+How much more mine! in them I see myself.
+I trembling kneel'd before the altar once,
+And solemnly the shade of early death
+Environ'd me. Aloft the knife was rais'd
+To pierce my bosom, throbbing with warm life;
+A dizzy horror overwhelm'd my soul;
+My eyes grew dim; I found myself in safety.
+Are we not bound to render the distress'd
+The gracious kindness from the gods receiv'd?
+Thou know'st we are, and yet wilt thou compel me?
+
+THOAS
+
+Obey thine office, priestess, not the king.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Cease! nor thus seek to cloak the savage force
+Which triumphs o'er a woman's feebleness.
+Though woman, I am born as free as man.
+Did Agamemnon's son before thee stand,
+And thou requiredst what became him not,
+His arm and trusty weapon would defend
+His bosom's freedom. I have only words;
+But it becomes a noble-minded man
+To treat with due respect the words of woman.
+
+THOAS
+
+I more respect them than a brother's sword.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Uncertain ever is the chance of arms,
+No prudent warrior doth despise his foe;
+Nor yet defenceless 'gainst severity
+Hath nature left the weak; she gives him craft
+And, willy, cunning; artful he delays,
+Evades, eludes, and finally escapes.
+Such arms are justified by violence.
+
+THOAS
+
+But circumspection countervails deceit.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Which a pure spirit doth abhor to use.
+
+THOAS
+
+Do not incautiously condemn thyself.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oh, couldst thou see the struggle of my soul,
+Courageously to ward the first attack
+Of an unhappy doom, which threatens me!
+Do I then stand before thee weaponless?
+Prayer, lovely prayer, fair branch in woman's hand,
+More potent far than instruments of war,
+Thou dost thrust back. What now remains for me
+Wherewith my inborn freedom to defend?
+Must I implore a miracle from heaven?
+Is there no power within my spirit's depths?
+
+THOAS
+
+Extravagant thy interest in the fate
+Of these two strangers. Tell me who they are
+For whom thy heart is thus so deeply mov'd.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+They are--they seem at least--I think them Greeks.
+
+THOAS
+
+Thy countrymen; no doubt they have renew'd
+The pleasing picture of return.
+
+IPHIGENIA (_after a pause_)
+
+ Doth man
+Lay undisputed claim to noble deeds?
+Doth he alone to his heroic breast
+Clasp the impossible? What call we great?
+What deeds, though oft narrated, still uplift
+with shuddering horror the narrator's soul,
+But those which, with improbable success,
+The valiant have attempted? Shall the man
+Who all alone steals on his foes by night,
+And raging like an unexpected fire,
+Destroys the slumbering host, and press'd at length
+By rous'd opponents on his foeman's steeds,
+Retreats with booty--be alone extoll'd?
+Or he who, scorning safety, boldly roams
+Through woods and dreary wilds, to scour the land
+Of thieves and robbers? Is naught left for us?
+Must gentle woman quite forego her nature,
+Force against force employ, like Amazons
+Usurp the sword from man, and bloodily
+Revenge oppression? In my heart I feel
+The stirrings of a noble enterprize;
+But if I fail--severe reproach, alas!
+And bitter misery will be my doom.
+Thus on my knees I supplicate the gods!
+Oh, are ye truthful, as men say ye are,
+Now prove it by your countenance and aid;
+Honor the truth in me! Attend, O king
+A secret plot deceitfully is laid;
+Touching the captives thou dost ask in vain;
+They have departed hence and seek their friends,
+Who, with the ship, await them on the shore.
+The eldest,--whom dire madness lately seiz'd,
+And hath abandon'd now,--he is Orestes,
+My brother, and the other Pylades,
+His early friend and faithful confidant.
+From Delphi, Phoebus sent them to this shore
+With a divine command to steal away
+The image of Diana, and to him
+Bear back the sister thither, and for this
+He promised to the blood-stained matricide,
+The Fury-haunted son, deliverance.
+I have surrender'd now into thy hands
+The remnants of the house of Tantalus.
+Destroy us--if thou canst.
+
+THOAS
+
+                     And dost thou think
+That the uncultured Scythian will attend
+The voice of truth and of humanity
+Which Atreus, the Greek, heard not?
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                                'Tis heard
+By every one, born 'neath whatever clime,
+Within whose bosom flows the stream of life,
+Pure and unhinder'd.--What thy thought? O king,
+What silent purpose broods in thy deep soul?
+Is it destruction? Let me perish first!
+For now, deliv'rance hopeless, I perceive
+The dreadful peril into which I have
+With rash precipitancy plung'd my friends.
+Alas! I soon shall see them bound before me!
+How to my brother shall I say farewell?
+I, the unhappy author of his death.
+Ne'er can I gaze again in his dear eyes!
+
+THOAS
+
+The traitors have contrived a cunning web,
+And cast it round thee, who, secluded long,
+Giv'st willing credence to thine own desires.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+No, no! I'd pledge my life these men are true.
+And shouldst thou find them otherwise, O king,
+Then let them perish both, and cast me forth,
+That on some rock-girt island's dreary shore
+I may atone my folly. Are they true,
+And is this man indeed my dear Orestes,
+My brother, long implor'd,--release us both,
+And o'er us stretch the kind protecting arm
+Which long hath shelter'd me. My noble sire
+Fell through his consort's guilt,--she by her son;
+On him alone the hope of Atreus' race
+Doth now repose. Oh, with pure heart, pure hand,
+Let me depart to purify our house.
+Yes, thou wilt keep thy promise; thou didst swear,
+That were a safe return provided me,
+I should be free to go. The hour is come.
+A king doth never grant like common men,
+Merely to gain a respite from petition;
+Nor promise what he hopes will ne'er be claim'd.
+Then first he feels his dignity supreme
+When he can make the long-expecting happy.
+
+THOAS
+
+As fire opposes water, and doth seek
+With hissing rage to overcome its foe,
+So doth my anger strive against thy words.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Let mercy, like the consecrated flame
+Of silent sacrifice, encircled round
+With songs of gratitude, and joy, and praise,
+Above the tumult gently rise to heaven.
+
+THOAS
+
+How often hath this voice assuag'd my soul!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Extend thy hand to me in sign of peace.
+
+THOAS
+
+Large thy demand within so short a time.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Beneficence doth no reflection need.
+
+THOAS
+
+'Tis needed oft, for evil springs from good.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+'Tis doubt which good doth oft to evil turn.
+Consider not; act as thy feelings prompt thee.
+
+
+SCENE IV
+
+ORESTES (_armed_), IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+ORESTES (_addressing his followers_)
+
+Redouble your exertions! hold them back!
+Few moments will suffice; maintain your ground,
+And keep a passage open to the ship
+For me and for my sister.
+
+ (_To_ IPHIGENIA, _without perceiving_ THOAS.)
+
+                          Come with speed!
+We are betray'd,--brief time remains for flight.
+
+ (_He perceives the king_.)
+
+THOAS (_laying his hand on his sword_)
+
+None in my presence with impunity
+His naked weapon wears.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                     Do not profane
+Diana's sanctuary with rage and blood.
+Command your people to forbear awhile,
+And listen to the priestess, to the sister.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Say, who is he that threatens us?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+                               In him
+Revere the king, who was my second father.
+Forgive me, brother, that my childlike heart
+Hath plac'd our fate thus wholly in his hands.
+I have betray'd your meditated flight,
+And thus from treachery redeem'd my soul.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Will he permit our peaceable return?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy gleaming sword forbids me to reply.
+
+ORESTES (_sheathing his sword_)
+
+Then speak! thou seest I listen to thy words.
+
+
+SCENE V
+
+ORESTES, IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+_Enter_ PYLADES, _soon after him_ ARKAS _both with drawn
+swords_.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Do not delay! our friends are putting forth
+Their final strength, and, yielding step by step,
+Are slowly driven backward to the sea.--
+A conference of princes find I here?
+Is this the sacred person of the king?
+
+ARKAS
+
+Calmly, as doth become thee, thou dost stand,
+O king, surrounded by thine enemies.
+Soon their temerity shall be chastiz'd;
+Their yielding followers fly,--their ship is ours,
+Speak but the word and it is wrapt in flames.
+
+THOAS
+
+Go, and command my people to forbear!
+Let none annoy the foe while we confer.
+[ARKAS _retires_.]
+
+ORESTES
+
+I willingly consent. Go, Pylades!
+Collect the remnant of our friends, and wait
+The appointed issue of our enterprize.
+[PYLADES _retires_.]
+
+
+SCENE VI
+
+IPHIGENIA, THOAS, ORESTES
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Relieve my cares ere ye begin to speak.
+I fear contention, if thou wilt not hear
+The voice of equity, O king,--if thou
+Wilt not, my brother, curb thy headstrong youth.
+
+THOAS
+
+I, as becomes the elder, check my rage.
+Now answer me: how dost thou prove thyself
+The priestess' brother, Agamemnon's son?
+
+ORESTES
+
+Behold the sword with which the hero slew
+The valiant Trojans. From his murderer
+I took the weapon, and implor'd the Gods
+To grant me Agamemnon's mighty arm,
+Success, and valor, with a death more noble.
+Select one of the leaders of thy host,
+And place the best as my opponent here.
+Where'er on earth the sons of heroes dwell,
+This boon is to the stranger ne'er refus'd.
+
+THOAS
+
+This privilege hath ancient custom here
+To strangers ne'er accorded.
+
+ORESTES
+
+                       Then from us
+Commence the novel custom! A whole race
+In imitation soon will consecrate
+Its monarch's noble action into law.
+Nor let me only for our liberty,--
+Let me, a stranger, for all strangers fight.
+If I should fall, my doom be also theirs;
+But if kind fortune crown me with success,
+Let none e'er tread this shore, and fail to meet
+The beaming eye of sympathy and love,
+Or unconsoled depart!
+
+THOAS
+
+                  Thou dost not seem
+Unworthy of thy boasted ancestry.
+Great is the number of the valiant men
+Who wait upon me; but I will myself,
+Although advanc'd in years, oppose the foe,
+And am prepar'd to try the chance of arms.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+No, no! such bloody proofs are not requir'd.
+Unhand thy weapon, king! my lot consider;
+Rash combat oft immortalizes man;
+If he should fall, he is renown'd in song;
+But after ages reckon not the tears
+Which ceaseless the forsaken woman sheds;
+And poets tell not of the thousand nights
+Consum'd in weeping, and the dreary days,
+Wherein her anguish'd soul, a prey to grief,
+Doth vainly yearn to call her lov'd one back.
+Fear warn'd me to beware lest robbers' wiles
+Might lure me from this sanctuary, and then
+Betray me into bondage. Anxiously
+I question'd them, each circumstance explor'd,
+Demanded proofs, now is my heart assur'd.
+See here, the mark on his right hand impress'd
+As of three stars, which on his natal day
+Were by the priest declar'd to indicate
+Some dreadful deed therewith to be perform'd.
+And then this scar, which doth his eyebrow cleave,
+Redoubles my conviction. When a child,
+Electra, rash and inconsiderate,
+Such was her nature, loos'd him from her arms,
+He fell against a tripos. Oh, 'tis he!--
+Shall I adduce the likeness to his sire,
+Or the deep rapture of my inmost heart,
+In further token of assurance, king?
+
+THOAS
+
+E'en though thy words had banish'd every doubt,
+And I had curb'd the anger in my breast,
+Still must our arms decide. I see no peace.
+Their purpose, as thou didst thyself confess,
+Was to deprive me of Diana's image.
+And think ye I will look contented on?
+The Greeks are wont to cast a longing eye
+Upon the treasures of barbarians,
+A golden fleece, good steeds, or daughters fair;
+But force and guile not always have avail'd
+To lead them, with their booty, safely home.
+
+ORESTES
+
+The image shall not be a cause of strife!
+We now perceive the error which the god,
+Our journey here commanding, like a veil,
+Threw o'er our minds. His counsel I implor'd,
+To free me from the Furies' grisly band.
+He answer'd, "Back to Greece the sister bring,
+Who in the sanctuary on Tauris' shore
+Unwillingly abides; so ends the curse!"
+To Phoebus' sister we applied the words,
+And he referr'd to thee! The bonds severe,
+Which held thee from us, holy one, are rent,
+And thou art ours once more. At thy blest touch,
+I felt myself restor'd. Within thine arms,
+Madness once more around me coil'd its folds,
+Crushing the marrow in my frame, and then
+Forever, like a serpent, fled to hell.
+Through thee, the daylight gladdens me anew,
+The counsel of the goddess now shines forth
+In all its beauty and beneficence.
+Like to a sacred image, unto which
+An oracle immutably hath bound
+A city's welfare, thee she bore away,
+Protectress of our house, and guarded here
+Within this holy stillness, to become
+A blessing to thy brother and thy race.
+Now when each passage to escape seems clos'd,
+And safety hopeless, thou dost give us all.
+O king, incline thine heart to thoughts of peace!
+Let her fulfil her mission, and complete
+The consecration of our father's house,
+Me to their purified abode restore,
+And place upon my brow the ancient crown!
+Requite the blessing which her presence brought thee,
+And let me now my nearer right enjoy!
+Cunning and force, the proudest boast of man,
+Fade in the lustre of her perfect truth;
+ Nor unrequited will a noble mind
+Leave confidence, so childlike and so pure.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Think on thy promise; let thy heart be mov'd
+By what a true and honest tongue hath spoken!
+Look on us, king! an opportunity
+For such a noble deed not oft occurs.
+Refuse thou canst not,--give thy quick consent.
+
+THOAS
+
+Then go!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+           Not so, my king! I cannot part
+Without thy blessing, or in anger from thee,
+Banish us not! the sacred right of guests
+Still let us claim: so not eternally
+Shall we be sever'd. Honor'd and belov'd
+As mine own father was, art thou by me;
+And this impression in my soul abides,
+Let but the least among thy people bring
+Back to mine ear the tones I heard from thee,
+Or should I on the humblest see thy garb,
+I will with joy receive him as a god,
+Prepare his couch myself, beside our hearth
+Invite him to a seat, and only ask
+Touching thy fate and thee. Oh, may the gods
+To thee the merited reward impart
+Of all thy kindness and benignity!
+Farewell! O turn thou not away, but give
+One kindly word of parting in return!
+So shall the wind more gently swell our sails,
+And from our eyes with soften'd anguish flow,
+The tears of separation. Fare thee well!
+And graciously extend to me thy hand,
+In pledge of ancient friendship.
+
+THOAS (_extending his hand_)
+
+Fare thee well!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+THE FAUST LEGEND FROM MARLOWE TO GOETHE
+
+By KUNO FRANCKE, PH.D., LL.D., LITT.D.
+
+Professor of the History of German Culture, Harvard University
+
+
+The Faust legend is a conglomerate of anonymous popular traditions,
+largely of medieval origin, which in the latter part of the sixteenth
+century came to be associated with an actual individual of the name of
+Faustus whose notorious career during the first four decades of the
+century, as a pseudo-scientific mountebank, juggler and magician can
+be traced through various parts of Germany. The Faust Book of 1587,
+the earliest collection of these tales, is of prevailingly theological
+character. It represents Faust as a sinner and reprobate, and it holds
+up his compact with Mephistopheles and his subsequent damnation as an
+example of human recklessness and as a warning to the faithful.
+
+From this Faust Book, that is from its English translation, which
+appeared in 1588, Marlowe took his tragedy of _Dr. Faustus_ (1589;
+published 1604). In Marlowe's drama Faust appears as a typical man of
+the Renaissance, as an explorer and adventurer, as a superman craving
+for extraordinary power, wealth, enjoyment, and worldly eminence. The
+finer emotions are hardly touched upon. Mephistopheles is the medieval
+devil, harsh and grim and fierce, bent on seduction, without any
+comprehension of human aspirations. Helen of Troy is a she-devil, and
+becomes the final means of Faust's destruction. Faust's career has
+hardly an element of true greatness. None of the many tricks,
+conjurings and miracles, which Faust performs with Mephistopheles'
+help, has any relation to the deeper meaning of life. From the compact
+on to the end hardly anything happens which brings Faust inwardly
+nearer either to heaven or hell. But there is a sturdiness of
+character and stirring intensity of action, with a happy admixture of
+buffoonery, through it all. And we feel something of the pathos and
+paradox of human passions in the fearful agony of Faust's final doom.
+
+The German popular Faust drama of the seventeenth century and its
+outgrowth the puppet plays, are a reflex both of Marlowe's tragedy and
+the Faust Book of 1587, although they contain a number of original
+scenes, notably the Council of the Devils at the beginning. Here
+again, the underlying sentiment is the abhorrence of human
+recklessness and extravagance. In some of these plays, the vanity of
+bold ambition is brought out with particular emphasis through the
+contrast between the daring and dissatisfied Faust and his farcical
+counterpart, the jolly and contented Casperle. In the last scene,
+while Faust in despair and contrition is waiting for the sound of the
+midnight bell which is to be the signal of his destruction, Casperle,
+as night watchman, patrols the streets of the town, calling out the
+hours and singing the traditional verses of admonition to quiet and
+orderly conduct.
+
+To the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, then, Faust appeared as a
+criminal who sins against the eternal laws of life, as a rebel against
+holiness who ruins his better self and finally earns the merited
+reward of his misdeeds. He could not appear thus to the eighteenth
+century. The eighteenth century is the age of Rationalism and of
+Romanticism. The eighteenth century glorifies human reason and human
+feeling. The right of man and the dignity of man are its principal
+watchwords. Such an age was bound to see in Faust a champion of
+freedom, nature, truth. Such an age was bound to see in Faust a symbol
+of human striving for completeness of life.
+
+It is Lessing who has given to the Faust legend this turn. His
+_Faust_, unfortunately consisting only of a few fragmentary sketches,
+is a defense of Rationalism. The most important of these fragments,
+preserved to us in copies by some friends of Lessing's, is the
+prelude, a council of devils. Satan is receiving reports from his
+subordinates as to what they have done to bring harm to the realm of
+God. The first devil who speaks has set the hut of some pious poor on
+fire; the second has buried a fleet of usurers in the waves. Both
+excite Satan's disgust. "For," he says, "to make the pious poor still
+poorer means only to chain him all the more firmly to God"; and the
+usurers, if, instead of being buried in the waves, they had been
+allowed to reach the goal of their voyage, would have wrought new evil
+on distant shores. Much more satisfied is Satan with the report of a
+third devil who has stolen the first kiss from a young innocent girl
+and thereby breathed the flame of desire into her veins; for he has
+worked evil in the world of the spirit and that means much more and is
+a much greater triumph for hell than to work evil in the world of
+bodies. But it is the fourth devil to whom Satan gives the prize. He
+has not done anything as yet. He has only a plan, but a plan which, if
+carried out, would put the deeds of all the other devils into the
+shade--the plan "to snatch from God his favorite." This favorite of
+God is Faust, "a solitary, brooding youth, renouncing all passion
+except the passion for truth, entirely living in truth, entirely
+absorbed in it." To snatch him from God--that would be a victory, over
+which the whole realm of night would rejoice. Satan is enchanted; the
+war against truth is his element. Yes, Faust must be seduced, he must
+be destroyed. And he shall be destroyed through his very aspiration.
+"Didst thou not say, he has desire for knowledge? That is enough for
+perdition!" His striving for truth is to lead him into darkness. Under
+such exclamations the devils break up, to set about their work of
+seduction; but, as they are breaking up, there is heard from above a
+divine voice: "Ye shall not conquer."
+
+It cannot be denied that Goethe's earliest Faust conception, the
+so-called _Ur-Faust_ of 1773 and '74, lacks the wide sweep of thought
+that characterizes these fragments of Lessing's drama. His Faust of
+the Storm and Stress period is essentially a Romanticist. He is a
+dreamer, craving for a sight of the divine, longing to fathom the
+inner working of nature, drunk with the mysteries of the universe. But
+he is also an unruly individualist, a reckless despiser of accepted
+morality; and it is hard to see how his relation with Gretchen, which
+forms by far the largest part of the _Ur-Faust_, can lead to anything
+but a tragic catastrophe. Only Goethe's second Faust conception, which
+sets in with the end of the nineties of the eighteenth century, opens
+up a clear view of the heights of life.
+
+Goethe was now in the full maturity of his powers, a man widely
+separated from the impetuous youth of the seventies whose Promethean
+emotions had burst forth with volcanic passion. He had meanwhile
+become a statesman and a philosopher. He had come to know in the court
+of Weimar a model of paternal government, conservative yet liberally
+inclined, and friendly to all higher culture. He had found in his
+truly spiritual relation to Frau von Stein a safe harbor for his
+tempestuous feelings. He had been brought face to face, during his
+sojourn in Italy, with the wonders of classic art. The study of
+Spinoza and his own scientific investigations had confirmed him in a
+thoroughly monistic view of the world and strengthened his belief in a
+universal law which makes evil itself an integral part of the good.
+The example of Schiller as well as his own practical experience had
+taught him that the untrammelled living out of personality must go
+hand in hand with incessant work for the common welfare of mankind.
+All this is reflected in the completed Part First of 1808; it finds
+its most comprehensive expression in Part Second, the bequest of the
+dying poet to posterity.
+
+Restless endeavor, incessant striving from lower spheres of life to
+higher ones, from the sensuous to the spiritual, from enjoyment to
+work, from creed to deed, from self to humanity--this is the moving
+thought of Goethe's completed _Faust_. The keynote is struck in the
+"Prologue in Heaven." Faust, so we hear, the daring idealist, the
+servant of God, is to be tempted by Mephisto, the despiser of reason,
+the materialistic scoffer. But we also hear, and we hear it from God's
+own lips, that the tempter will not succeed. God allows the devil free
+play, because he knows that he will frustrate his own ends. Faust will
+be led astray--"man errs while he strives"; but he will not abandon
+his higher aspirations; through aberration and sin he will find the
+true way toward which his inner nature instinctively guides him. He
+will not eat dust. Even in the compact with Mephisto the same
+ineradicable optimism asserts itself. Faust's wager with the devil is
+nothing but an act of temporary despair, and the very fact that he
+does not hope anything from it shows that he will win it. He knows
+that sensual enjoyment will never give him satisfaction; he knows
+that, as long as he gives himself up to self-gratification, there will
+never be a moment to which he would say: "Abide, thou art so fair!"
+From the outset we feel that by living up to the very terms of the
+compact, Faust will rise superior to it; that by rushing into the
+whirlpool of earthly experience and passion, his being will be
+heightened and expanded.
+
+And thus, everything in the whole drama, all its incidents and all its
+characters, become episodes in the rounding out of this grand,
+all-comprehensive personality. Gretchen and Helena, Wagner and
+Mephisto, Homunculus and Euphorion, the Emperor's court and the shades
+of the Greek past, the broodings of medieval mysticism and the
+practical tasks of modern industrialism, the enlightened despotism of
+the eighteenth century and the ideal democracy of the future--all this
+and a great deal more enters into Faust's being. He strides on from
+experience to experience, from task to task, expiating guilt by doing,
+losing himself and finding himself again. Blinded in old age by Dame
+Care, he feels a new light kindled within. Dying, he gazes into a far
+future. And even in the heavenly regions he goes on ever changing into
+new and higher and finer forms. It is this irrepressible spirit of
+striving which makes Goethe's _Faust_ the Bible of modern humanity.
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO FAUST
+
+BY CALVIN THOMAS, LL.D.
+
+Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Columbia University
+
+The central theme of Goethe's _Faust_ may be put in the form of a
+question thus: Shall a man hate life because it does not match his
+dreams, or shall he embrace it eagerly and try to make the best of it
+as a social being? Goethe's answer is at once scientific and
+religious, which partly explains its vital interest for the modern
+man. To be sure, his answer is given at the end of a long symbolic
+poem which contains much that is not exactly relevant to the main
+issue. It must never be forgotten that _Faust_ is not the orderly
+development of a thesis in ethics, but a long succession of
+imaginative pictures. Some of them may seem too recondite and
+fantastic to meet our present-day demand for reality, but on the whole
+the poem deals with vital issues of the human spirit. At the end of it
+Faust arrives at a noble view of life, and his last words undoubtedly
+tell how Goethe himself thought that a good man might wish to end his
+days--unsated with life to the final moment, and expiring in an
+ecstasy of altruistic vision.
+
+Goethe was about twenty years old when his imagination began to be
+haunted by the figure of the sixteenth century magician Doctor Faust.
+In 1772 or 1773 he commenced writing a play on the subject, little
+thinking of course that it would occupy him some sixty years. The old
+legend is a story of sin and damnation. Faust is represented as an
+eager student impelled by intellectual curiosity to the study of
+magic. From the point of view of the superstitious folk who created
+the legend this addiction to magic is itself sinful. But Faust is bad
+and reckless. By the aid of his black art he calls up a devil named
+(in the legend) Mephostophiles with whom he makes a contract of
+service. For twenty-four years Faust is to have all that he desires,
+and then his soul is to go to perdition. The contract is carried out.
+With the Devil as comrade and servant he lords it over time and space,
+feeds on the fat of the land, travels far and wide, and does all sorts
+of wonderful things. At the end of the stipulated time the Devil
+gets him.
+
+From the very beginning of his musings on the theme Goethe thought of
+Faust as a man better than his reputation; as a misunderstood
+truth-seeker who had dared the terrors with which the popular
+imagination invested hell, in order that he might exhaust the
+possibilities of this life. Aside from his desire of transcendental
+knowledge and wide experience, there was a third trait of the
+legendary Faust which could hardly seem to Goethe anything but
+creditable to human nature: his passion for antique beauty. According
+to the old story Faust at one time wishes to marry; but as marriage is
+a Christian ordinance and he has forsworn Christianity, the Devil
+gives him, in place of a lawful wife, a fantom counterfeit of Helena,
+the ancient Queen of Beauty. The lovely fantom becomes Faust's
+paramour and bears him a remarkable son called Justus Faustus.
+
+What wonder if the young Goethe, himself disappointed with
+book-learning, eager for life, and beset by vague yearnings for mystic
+insight into the nature of things, saw in Faust a symbol of his own
+experience? But as soon as he began to identify himself with his hero
+it was all up with Faust's utter damnableness: a young poet does not
+plan to send his own soul to perdition. At the same time, he could not
+very well imagine him as an out-and-out good man, since that would
+have been to turn the legend topsy-turvy. The league with the Devil,
+who would of course have to be conceived as in some sense or other an
+embodiment of evil, was the very heart of the old story.
+
+At first Goethe planned his drama on lines that had little to do with
+traditional ideas of good and bad, heaven and hell, God and Devil.
+Faust is introduced as a youngish professor who has studied everything
+and been teaching for some ten years, with the result that he feels
+his knowledge to be vanity and his life a dreary routine of hypocrisy.
+He resorts to magic in the hope of--what? It is important for the
+understanding of the poem in its initial stages to bear in mind that
+Faust is not at first a votary of the vulgar black art which consists
+in calling up bad spirits and doing reprehensible things by their
+assistance. Further on he shows that he is a master of that art too,
+but at first he is concerned with "natural magic," which some of the
+old mystics whom Goethe read conceived as the highest and divinest of
+sciences. The fundamental assumption of natural magic is that the
+universe as a whole and each component part of it is dominated by an
+indwelling spirit with whom it is possible for the magician to get
+into communication. If he succeeds he becomes "like" a spirit--freed
+from the trammels of the flesh, a partaker of divine knowledge and
+ecstatic happiness.
+
+Pursuing his wonderful vagaries by means of a magic book that has come
+into his possession, Faust first experiments with the "sign" of the
+Macrocosm, but makes no attempt to summon its presiding genius, that
+is, the World-spirit. He has a wonderful vision of the harmonious
+Cosmos, but it is "only a spectacle," whereas he craves food for his
+soul. So he turns to the sign of the Earth-spirit, whom he feels to be
+nearer to him. By an act of supreme daring he utters the formula which
+causes the Spirit to appear in fire--grand, awe-inspiring, terrible. A
+colloquy ensues at the end of which the Spirit rebuffs the
+presumptuous mortal with the words: "Thou art like the spirit whom
+thou comprehendest, not like me"--and disappears. The meaning is that
+Faust, who knows very little of the Earth, having always led the
+narrow life of a brooding scholar in one little corner of it, is not
+fit for intimacy with the mighty being who presides over the entire
+planet, with its rush and change, its life and death, its vast and
+ceaseless energy. He must have a wider experience. How shall he
+get it?
+
+It is a moot question whether Goethe at first conceived Mephistopheles
+as the Earth-spirit's envoy, sent for the express purpose of showing
+Faust about the world, or whether the Devil was thought of as coming
+of his own accord. Be that as it may, _Faust_ is an experience-drama,
+and the Devil's function is to provide the experience. And he is _a_
+devil, not _the_ Devil, conceived as the bitter and malignant enemy of
+God, but a subordinate spirit whose business it is, in the
+world-economy, to spur man to activity. This he does partly by cynical
+criticism and opposition, but more especially by holding out the lures
+of the sensual life. At first Mephistopheles was not thought of as
+working solely for a reward in the shape of souls captured for
+eternity, but as playing his part for the diabolical pleasure of so
+doing. In the course of time, however, Goethe invested him more and
+more with the costume and traits of the traditionary Devil.
+
+After the Earth-spirit's rebuff Faust is in despair. He has set all
+his hope on help from the spirit-world, and the hope has failed. His
+famulus Wagner, a type of the ardent and contented bookworm, comes in
+to get instruction on the art of public speaking, and Faust lays down
+the law to him. After Wagner's exit Faust is hopelessly despondent.
+After a mournful arraignment of life he is about to swallow a cup of
+poison that he has concocted, when his hand is staid by the first
+notes of the Easter celebration in a neighboring church. It reminds
+him of his happy youth when he, too, believed.
+
+The coming day is Easter Sunday. Faust and Wagner take an afternoon
+walk together and witness the jollity of the common people. As they
+are about to return home at nightfall they pick up a casual black dog
+that has been circling around them. Arrived in his comfortable study,
+Faust feels more cheerful. In a mood of religious peace he sets about
+translating a passage of the New Testament into German. The dog
+becomes uneasy and begins to take on the appearance of a horrid
+monster. Faust sees that he has brought home a spirit and proceeds to
+conjure the beast. Presently Mephistopheles emerges from his canine
+disguise in the costume of a wandering scholar. Faust is amused. He
+enters into conversation with his guest and learns something of his
+character. A familiar acquaintance ensues, and one day the Devil finds
+him once more in a mood of bitter despair, advises him to quit the
+tedious professorial life, and offers to be his comrade and servant on
+a grand tour of pleasure. After some bickering they enter into a
+solemn agreement according to which Faust's life is to end whenever he
+shall "stretch himself on a bed of ease," completely satisfied with
+the passing moment, and shall say to that moment, "Pray tarry, thou
+art so fair."
+
+We see that the Devil can win in only one way, namely, by somehow
+making Faust a contented sensualist. On the other hand, Faust may win
+in either of two ways. First, he might conceivably go on to his dying
+day as a bitter pessimist at war with life. In that event he would
+certainly never be content with the present moment. Secondly, he may
+outgrow his pessimism, but never come to the point where he is willing
+to check the flight of Time; when, that is, he shall have no more
+plans, hopes, dreams, that reach into the future and seem worth living
+for. The question is, then, whether Mephistopheles, by any lure at his
+command, can subdue Faust's forward-ranging idealism. The Devil
+expects to win; Faust wagers his immortal soul that the Devil will not
+win. In the old story the Devil appears promptly at the end of the
+twenty-four years, puts his victim to death, and takes possession of
+his soul. Goethe's Mephistopheles is a gentleman of culture for whom
+such savagery would be impossible. He will wait until his comrade dies
+a natural death and then put in his claim in the Devil's fashion; and
+it will be for the Lord in heaven to decide the case.
+
+Such is the scheme of the drama, but after the compact is made we hear
+no more of it until just before the end of the Second Part. The action
+takes the form of a long succession of adventures undertaken for the
+sake of experience. Duty, obligation, routine, have been left behind.
+Faust has nothing to do but to go about and try experiments--first in
+the "little world" of humble folk (the remainder of Part First), and
+then in the "great world" of court life, government, and war (the
+Second Part).
+
+By way of beginning Faust is taken to Auerbach's Cellar, where four
+jolly companions are assembled for a drinking-bout. He is simply
+disgusted with the grossness and vulgarity of it all. He is too
+old--so the Devil concludes--for the rôle he is playing and must have
+his youth renewed. So they repair to an old witch, who gives Faust an
+elixir that makes him young again. The scene in the witch's kitchen
+was written in Italy in 1788, by which time Goethe had come to think
+of his hero as an elderly man. The purpose of the scene was to account
+for the sudden change of Faust's character from brooding philosopher
+to rake and seducer. Of course the elixir of youth is at the same time
+a love-philter.
+
+Then come the matchless scenes that body forth the short romance of
+Margaret, her quick infatuation, her loss of virgin honor, the death
+of her mother and brother, her shame and misery, her agonizing death
+in prison. Here we are in the realm of pure realism, and never again
+did Goethe's art sound such depths of tragic pathos. The atmosphere of
+the love-tragedy is entirely different from that of the Faust-legend.
+Mephistopheles as the abettor of Faust's amorous passion has no need
+of magic. The rôle of Faust--that of a man pulled irresistibly by
+sexual passion, yet constantly tormented by his conscience--is
+repulsive, but very human. As he stands before the prison gate he says
+that "the whole sorrow of mankind" holds him in its grip. But this is
+a part of what he wished for. He wished for universal experience--to
+feel in his own soul all the weal and all the woe of humankind. At the
+end of the First Part he has drained the cup of sin and suffering.
+
+Imbedded in the love-tragedy is one scene which will seem out of tune
+with what has just been said--the Walpurgis Night. Here we are back
+again in the atmosphere of the legend, with its magic, its witchcraft,
+its gross sensuality. We hardly recognize our friend Faust when we
+find him dancing with naked witches and singing lewd songs on the
+Brocken. The scene was written in 1800 when Goethe had become a little
+cynical with respect to the artistic coherence of _Faust_ and looked
+on it as a "monstrosity." It was a part of the early plan that Faust
+should add to the burden of his soul by frivolously deserting Margaret
+in the shame of her approaching motherhood and spending some time in
+gross pleasures. The visit to the Witches' Sabbath on the Brocken was
+afterward invented to carry out this idea. In itself the idea was a
+good one; for if Faust was to drain the cup of sorrow, the ingredient
+of self-contempt could not be left out of the bitter chalice. A
+sorrow's crown of sorrow is not so much remembering happier things as
+remembering that the happy state came to an end by one's own
+wrongdoing. Still, most modern readers will think that Goethe, in
+elaborating the Brocken scene as an interesting study of the uncanny
+and the vile, let his hero sink needlessly far into the mire.
+
+At the beginning of the Second Part Goethe does not reopen the book of
+crime and remorse with which the First Part closes. He needs a new
+Faust for whom that is all past--past, not in the sense of being
+lightly forgotten, but built into his character and remembered, say,
+as one remembers the ecstasy and the pain of twenty years ago. So he
+ushers him directly into the new life over a bridge of symbolism. The
+restoring process which in real life takes many years he concentrates
+into a single night and represents it as the work of kindly nocturnal
+fairies and the glorious Alpine sunrise. Faust awakens healed and
+reinvigorated, and the majesty of Nature inspires in him a resolve to
+"strive ever onward toward the highest existence."
+
+But these fine words convey a promise which is not at once fulfilled.
+Like the most of us, Faust does not long continue to abide on the
+Alpine heights of his own best insight and aspiration. The comrade is
+at hand who interrupts his lonely communion with the spirit of the
+mountains and draws him away to the Emperor's court, where the pair
+soon ingratiate themselves as wonder-workers. They so please his
+Majesty with their marvelous illusions that they are regularly
+installed at court as purveyors of amusement. The first demand that is
+made on them is that they produce, for the entertainment of the court,
+the shades of the supremely beautiful Paris and Helena. To this end
+Mephistopheles devises the elaborate hocus-pocus of the Mothers. He
+sends Faust away to the vasty and viewless realm of the Ideal,
+instructing him how to bring thence a certain wonderful tripod, from
+the incense of which the desired forms can be made to appear. The show
+proceeds successfully, so far as the spectators are concerned, but an
+accident happens. Faust has been cautioned by his partner not to touch
+the fantom forms. But the moon-struck idealist falls in love with the
+beautiful Helena and, disregarding orders, attempts to hold her fast.
+The consequence is an explosion; the spirits vanish, and Faust
+receives an electric shock which paralyzes all his bodily functions.
+He is now in a trance; there is nothing left of him but a motionless
+body and a mute soul, dreaming of Helena. Mephistopheles pretends to
+be very much disgusted, but he knows where to go for help.
+
+At the beginning of the second act we return to the old study that was
+deserted years ago. Faust's former famulus, Dr. Wagner, has now become
+a world-renowned professor and is engaged in a great experiment,
+namely, in the production of a chemical man. By the aid of Mephisto's
+magic the experiment is quickly brought to a successful issue, and
+Homunculus--one of Goethe's whimsically delightful creations--emerges
+into being as an incorporeal radiant man in a glass bottle. The
+wonderful little fellow at once comprehends Faust's malady and
+prescribes that he be taken to the land of his dreams. So away they
+go, the three of them, to the Classical Walpurgis Night, which is
+celebrated annually on the battle-field of Pharsalus in Thessaly. As
+soon as Faust's feet touch classic soil he recovers his senses and
+sets out with enthusiasm to find Helena. After some wandering about
+among the classic fantoms he falls in with Chiron the Centaur, who
+carries him far away to the foot of Mount Olympus and leaves him with
+the wise priestess Manto, who escorts him to the Lower World and
+secures the consent of Queen Persephone to a temporary reappearance of
+Helena on earth.
+
+Meanwhile Mephistopheles, delighted to find on classic ground
+creatures no less ugly than those familiar to him in the far
+Northwest, enters, seemingly by way of a lark, into a curious
+arrangement with the three daughters of Phorkys. These were imagined
+by the Greeks as hideous old hags who lived in perpetual darkness and
+had one eye and one tooth which they used in common. Mephistopheles
+borrows the form, the eye, and the tooth of a Phorkyad and transforms
+himself very acceptably into an image of the Supreme Ugliness. In that
+shape he-she manages the fantasmagory of the third act. As for the
+third member of the expedition to Thessaly, Homunculus, he is
+possessed by a consuming desire to "begin existence," that is, to get
+a body and become a full-fledged member of the genus Homo. His
+wanderings in search of the best place to begin take him out into the
+Aegean Sea, where he is entranced by the beauty of the scene. In an
+ecstasy of prophetic joy he dashes his bottle to pieces against the
+shell-chariot of the lovely sea-nymph Galatea and dissolves himself
+with the shining animalculae of the sea. There he is now--coming up to
+the full estate of manhood by the various stages of protozoon, amoeba,
+mollusc, fish, reptile, bird, mammal, Man. It will take time, but he
+has no need to hurry.
+
+Then follows the third act, a classico-romantic fantasmagoria, in
+which Faust as medieval knight, ruling his multitudinous vassals from
+his castle in Arcadia, the fabled land of poetry, is wedded to the
+classic Queen of Beauty. It is all very fantastic, but also very
+beautiful and marvelously pregnant in its symbolism. But at last the
+fair illusion comes to an end. Euphorion, the child of Helena and
+Faust, the ethereal, earth-spurning Genius of Poesy, perishes in an
+attempt to fly, and his grief-stricken mother follows him back to
+Hades. Nothing is left to Faust but a majestic, inspiring memory. He
+gathers the robe of Helena about him, and it bears him aloft and
+carries him, high up in the air and far above all that is vulgar, back
+to Germany. His vehicle of cloud lands him on a mountain-summit, where
+he is soon joined by Mephistopheles, who puts the question, What next?
+We are now at the beginning of Act IV. Faust proceeds to unfold a
+grand scheme of conflict with the Sea. On his flight he has observed
+the tides eternally beating in upon the shore and evermore receding,
+all to no purpose. This blind waste of energy has excited in him the
+spirit of opposition. He proposes to fight the sea by building dikes
+which shall hold the rushing water in check and make dry land of the
+tide-swept area. Mephistopheles enters readily into his plans. They
+help the Emperor to win a critical battle, and by way of reward Faust
+receives a vast tract of swampy sea-shore as his fief.
+
+In Act V the great scheme has all been carried out. What was a watery
+desolation has been converted into a potential paradise. Faust is a
+great feudal lord, with a boundless domain and a fleet of ships that
+bring him the riches of far-away lands. But thus far he has simply
+been amusing himself on a grand scale. He has thought always mainly of
+himself. He has courted experience, among other things the experience
+of putting forth his power in a contest with the sea and performing a
+great feat of engineering. But it has not brought him a satisfaction
+in which he can rest. And he has not become a saint. An aged couple,
+who belong to the old régime and obstinately refuse to part with the
+little plot of ground on which they have lived for years, anger him to
+the point of madness. He wants their land so that he may build on it a
+watch-tower from which to survey and govern his possessions. He sends
+his servitor to remove them to a better home which he has prepared for
+them. But Mephistopheles carries out the order with reckless
+brutality, with the consequence that the old people are killed and
+their cottage burned to the ground. Thus Faust in his old age--by this
+time he is a hundred years old--has a fresh burden on his conscience.
+As he stands on the balcony of his palace at midnight, surveying the
+havoc he has unintentionally wrought, the smoke of the burning cottage
+is wafted toward him and takes the form of four gray old women. One of
+them, Dame Care, slips into the rich man's palace by way of the
+keyhole and croons in his ear her dismal litany of care. Faust replies
+in a fine declaration of independence, beginning--
+
+  The circle of the Earth is known to me,
+  What's on the other side we can not see.
+
+As Dame Care leaves him she breathes on his eyelids and makes him
+blind. But the inner light is not quenched. His hunger for life still
+unabated, he summons up all his energy and orders out an army of
+workmen to complete a great undertaking on which he has set his heart.
+On the edge of his domain, running along the distant foot-hills, is a
+miasmatic swamp which poisons the air and renders the land
+uninhabitable. He proposes to drain the swamp and thus create a home
+for millions yet to come.
+
+His imagination ranges forward, picturing a free, industrious,
+self-reliant people swarming on the land that he has won from the sea
+and made fit for human uses. In the ecstasy of altruistic emotion he
+exclaims: "Such a throng I would fain see, standing with a free people
+on a free soil; I might say to the passing moment, 'Pray tarry, thou
+art so fair.' The traces of my earthly life can not pass away in
+eons." That same instant he sinks back to earth--dying.
+
+Is there in all literature anything finer, grander, more nobly
+conceived? What follows--the conflict of the angels and devils for the
+final possession of Faust's soul--need not detain us long. We know how
+that will turn out. Indeed, the shrewd old Devil, while he goes
+through the form of making a stiff fight for what he pretends to think
+his rights, knows from the first that his is a losing battle. While he
+is watching the body of Faust to see where the soul is going to
+escape, the angels appear in a glory, bearing roses as their only
+weapon. With these they put the Devil and his minions to rout and bear
+away the dead man's soul to the Holy Mountain, singing their
+triumphal chant--
+
+Wer immer strebend sich bemüht,
+Den können wir erlösen.
+
+
+THE TRAGEDY OF FAUST
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
+
+_Characters in the Prologue for the Theatre_.
+
+THE MANAGER.
+THE DRAMATIC POET.
+MERRYMAN.
+
+_Characters in the Prologue in Heaven_.
+
+THE LORD.
+RAPHAEL}
+GABRIEL} The Heavenly Host.
+MICHAEL}
+MEPHISTOPHELES.
+
+_Characters in the Tragedy_.
+
+FAUST.
+MEPHISTOPHELES.
+WAGNER, a Student.
+MARGARET.
+MARTHA, Margaret's Neighbor.
+VALENTINE, Margaret's Brother.
+OLD PEASANT.
+A STUDENT.
+ELIZABETH, an Acquaintance of Margaret's.
+FROSCH  }
+BRANDER   }  Guests in Auerbach's Wine Cellar.
+SIEBEL  }
+ALTMAYER  }
+
+Witches, old and young; Wizards, Will-o'-the-Wisp, Witch Peddler,
+Protophantasmist, Servibilis, Monkeys, Spirits, Journeymen,
+Country-folk, Citizens, Beggar, Old Fortune-teller, Shepherd, Soldier,
+Students, etc.
+
+_In the Intermezzo_.
+
+
+OBERON.
+TITANIA.
+ARIEL.
+PUCK, ETC., ETC.
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+
+Ye wavering shapes, again ye do enfold me,
+As erst upon my troubled sight ye stole;
+Shall I this time attempt to clasp, to hold ye?
+Still for the fond illusion yearns my soul?
+Ye press around! Come then, your captive hold me,
+As upward from the vapory mist ye roll;
+Within my breast youth's throbbing pulse is bounding,
+Fann'd by the magic breath your march surrounding.
+
+Shades fondly loved appear, your train attending,
+And visions fair of many a blissful day;
+First-love and friendship their fond accents blending,
+Like to some ancient, half-expiring lay;
+Sorrow revives, her wail of anguish sending
+Back o'er life's devious labyrinthine way,
+And names the dear ones, they whom Fate bereaving
+Of life's fair hours, left me behind them grieving.
+
+They hear me not my later cadence singing,
+The souls to whom my earlier lays I sang;
+Dispersed the throng, their severed flight now winging;
+Mute are the voices that responsive rang.
+For stranger crowds the Orphean lyre now stringing,
+E'en their applause is to my heart a pang;
+Of old who listened to my song, glad hearted,
+If yet they live, now wander widely parted.
+
+A yearning long unfelt, each impulse swaying,
+To yon calm spirit-realm uplifts my soul;
+In faltering cadence, as when Zephyr playing,
+Fans the Æolian harp, my numbers roll;
+Tear follows tear, my steadfast heart obeying
+The tender impulse, loses its control;
+What I possess as from afar I see;
+Those I have lost become realities to me.
+
+
+PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE
+
+MANAGER. DRAMATIC POET. MERRYMAN
+
+
+MANAGER
+Ye twain, in trouble and distress
+True friends whom I so oft have found,
+Say, for our scheme on German ground,
+What prospect have we of success?
+Fain would I please the public, win their thanks;
+They live and let live, hence it is but meet.
+The posts are now erected, and the planks,
+And all look forward to a festal treat.
+Their places taken, they, with eyebrows rais'd,
+Sit patiently, and fain would be amaz'd.
+I know the art to hit the public taste,
+Yet ne'er of failure felt so keen a dread;
+True, they are not accustomed to the best,
+But then appalling the amount they've read.
+How make our entertainment striking, new,
+And yet significant and pleasing too?
+For to be plain, I love to see the throng,
+As to our booth the living tide progresses;
+As wave on wave successive rolls along,
+And through heaven's narrow portal forceful presses;
+Still in broad daylight, ere the clock strikes four,
+With blows their way toward the box they take;
+And, as for bread in famine, at the baker's door,
+For tickets are content their necks to break.
+Such various minds the bard alone can sway,
+My friend, oh work this miracle today!
+
+POET
+
+Oh of the motley throng speak not before me,
+At whose aspect the Spirit wings its flight!
+Conceal the surging concourse, I implore thee,
+Whose vortex draws us with resistless might.
+No, to some peaceful heavenly nook restore me,
+Where only for the bard blooms pure delight,
+Where love and friendship yield their choicest blessing,
+Our heart's true bliss, with godlike hand caressing.
+
+What in the spirit's depths was there created,
+What shyly there the lip shaped forth in sound;
+A failure now, with words now fitly mated,
+In the wild tumult of the hour is drown'd;
+Full oft the poet's thought for years hath waited
+Until at length with perfect form 'tis crowned;
+What dazzles, for the moment born, must perish;
+What genuine is posterity will cherish.
+
+MERRYMAN
+
+This cant about posterity I hate;
+About posterity were I to prate,
+Who then the living would amuse? For they
+Will have diversion, ay, and 'tis their due.
+A sprightly fellow's presence at your play,
+Methinks should also count for something too;
+Whose genial wit the audience still inspires,
+Knows from their changeful mood no angry feeling;
+A wider circle he desires,
+To their heart's depths more surely thus appealing.
+To work, then! Give a master-piece, my friend;
+Bring Fancy with her choral trains before us,
+Sense, reason, feeling, passion, but attend!
+Let folly also swell the tragic chorus.
+
+MANAGER
+
+In chief, of incident enough prepare!
+A show they want, they come to gape and stare.
+Spin for their eyes abundant occupation,
+So that the multitude may wondering gaze,
+You by sheer bulk have won your reputation,
+The man you are all love to praise.
+By mass alone can you subdue the masses,
+Each then selects in time what suits his bent.
+Bring much, you something bring for various classes,
+And from the house goes every one content.
+You give a piece, abroad in pieces send it!
+'Tis a ragout--success must needs attend it;
+'Tis easy to serve up, as easy to invent.
+A finish'd whole what boots it to present!
+Full soon the public will in pieces rend it.
+
+POET
+
+How mean such handicraft as this you cannot feel!
+How it revolts the genuine artist's mind!
+The sorry trash in which these coxcombs deal,
+Is here approved on principle, I find.
+
+MANAGER
+
+Such a reproof disturbs me not a whit!
+Who on efficient work is bent,
+Must choose the fittest instrument.
+Consider! 'tis soft wood you have to split;
+Think too for whom you write, I pray!
+One comes to while an hour away;
+One from the festive board, a sated guest;
+Others, more dreaded than the rest,
+From journal-reading hurry to the play.
+As to a masquerade, with absent minds, they press,
+Sheer curiosity their footsteps winging;
+Ladies display their persons and their dress,
+Actors unpaid their service bringing.
+What dreams beguile you on your poet's height?
+What puts a full house in a merry mood?
+More closely view your patrons of the night!
+The half are cold, the half are rude.
+One, the play over, craves a game of cards;
+Another a wild night in wanton joy would spend.
+Poor fools the muses' fair regards
+Why court for such a paltry end?
+I tell you, give them more, still more, 'tis all I ask,
+Thus you will ne'er stray widely from the goal;
+Your audience seek to mystify, cajole;--
+To satisfy them--that's a harder task.
+What ails thee? art enraptured or distressed?
+
+POET
+
+Depart! elsewhere another servant choose.
+What! shall the bard his godlike power abuse?
+Man's loftiest right, kind nature's high bequest,
+For your mean purpose basely sport away?
+Whence comes his mastery o'er the human breast,
+Whence o'er the elements his sway,
+But from the harmony that, gushing from his soul,
+Draws back into his heart the wondrous whole?
+With careless hand when round her spindle, Nature
+Winds the interminable thread of life;
+When 'mid the clash of Being every creature
+Mingles in harsh inextricable strife;
+Who deals their course unvaried till it falleth,
+In rhythmic flow to music's measur'd tone?
+Each solitary note whose genius calleth,
+To swell the mighty choir in unison?
+Who in the raging storm sees passion low'ring?
+Or flush of earnest thought in evening's glow?
+Who every blossom in sweet spring-time flowering
+Along the loved one's path would strow?
+Who, Nature's green familiar leaves entwining,
+Wreathes glory's garland, won on every field?
+Makes sure Olympus, heavenly powers combining?
+Man's mighty spirit, in the bard reveal'd!
+
+MERRYMAN
+
+Come then, employ your lofty inspiration,
+And carry on the poet's avocation,
+Just as we carry on a love affair.
+Two meet by chance, are pleased, they linger there,
+Insensibly are link'd, they scarce know how;
+Fortune seems now propitious, adverse now,
+Then come alternate rapture and despair;
+And 'tis a true romance ere one's aware.
+Just such a drama let us now compose.
+Plunge boldly into life-its, depths disclose!
+Each lives it, not to many is it known,
+'Twill interest wheresoever seiz'd and shown;
+Bright pictures, but obscure their meaning:
+A ray of truth through error gleaming,
+Thus you the best elixir brew,
+To charm mankind, and edify them too.
+Then youth's fair blossoms crowd to view your play,
+And wait as on an oracle; while they,
+The tender souls, who love the melting mood,
+Suck from your work their melancholy food;
+Now this one, and now that, you deeply stir,
+Each sees the working of his heart laid bare.
+Their tears, their laughter, you command with ease,
+The lofty still they honor, the illusive love.
+Your finish'd gentlemen you ne'er can please;
+A growing mind alone will grateful prove.
+
+POET
+
+Then give me back youth's golden prime,
+When my own spirit too was growing,
+When from my heart th' unbidden rhyme
+Gush'd forth, a fount for ever flowing;
+Then shadowy mist the world conceal'd,
+And every bud sweet promise made,
+Of wonders yet to be reveal'd,
+As through the vales, with blooms inlaid,
+Culling a thousand flowers I stray'd.
+Naught had I, yet a rich profusion!
+The thirst for truth, joy in each fond illusion.
+Give me unquell'd those impulses to prove;--
+Rapture so deep, its ecstasy was pain,
+The power of hate, the energy of love,
+Give me, oh give me back my youth again!
+
+MERRYMAN
+
+Youth, my good friend, you certainly require
+When foes in battle round are pressing,
+When a fair maid, her heart on fire,
+Hangs on your neck with fond caressing,
+When from afar, the victor's crown,
+To reach the hard-won goal inciteth;
+When from the whirling dance, to drown
+Your sense, the nights carouse inviteth.
+But the familiar chords among
+Boldly to sweep, with graceful cunning,
+While to its goal, the verse along
+Its winding path is sweetly running;
+This task is yours, old gentlemen, today;
+Nor are you therefore less in reverence held;
+Age does not make us childish, as folk say,
+It finds us genuine children e'en in eld.
+
+MANAGER
+
+A truce to words, mere empty sound,
+Let deeds at length appear, my friends!
+While idle compliments you round,
+You might achieve some useful ends.
+Why talk of the poetic vein?
+Who hesitates will never know it;
+If bards ye are, as ye maintain,
+Now let your inspiration show it.
+To you is known what we require,
+Strong drink to sip is our desire;
+Come, brew me such without delay!
+Tomorrow sees undone, what happens not today;
+Still forward press, nor ever tire!
+The possible, with steadfast trust,
+Resolve should by the forelock grasp;
+Then she will never let go her clasp,
+And labors on, because she must.
+On German boards, you're well aware,
+The taste of each may have full sway;
+Therefore in bringing out your play,
+Nor scenes nor mechanism spare!
+Heaven's lamps employ, the greatest and the least,
+Be lavish of the stellar lights,
+Water, and fire, and rocky heights,
+Spare not at all, nor birds, nor beast.
+Thus let creation's ample sphere
+Forthwith in this our narrow booth appear,
+And with considerate speed, through fancy's spell,
+Journey from heaven, thence through the world, to hell!
+
+
+PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN
+
+THE LORD. THE HEAVENLY HOSTS. _Afterward_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+
+_The three Archangels come forward_
+
+RAPHAEL
+
+The Sun, in ancient guise, competing
+With brother spheres in rival song,
+With thunder-march, his orb completing,
+Moves his predestin'd course along;
+His aspect to the powers supernal
+Gives strength, though fathom him none may;
+Transcending thought, the works eternal
+Are fair as on the primal day.
+
+GABRIEL
+
+With speed, thought baffling, unabating,
+Earth's splendor whirls in circling flight;
+Its Eden-brightness alternating
+With solemn, awe-inspiring night;
+Ocean's broad waves in wild commotion,
+Against the rocks' deep base are hurled;
+And with the spheres, both rock and ocean
+Eternally are swiftly whirled.
+
+MICHAEL
+
+And tempests roar in emulation
+From sea to land, from land to sea,
+And raging form, without cessation,
+A chain of wondrous agency,
+Full in the thunder's path careering,
+Flaring the swift destructions play;
+But, Lord, Thy servants are revering
+The mild procession of thy day.
+
+THE THREE
+
+Thine aspect to the powers supernal
+Gives strength, though fathom thee none may;
+And all thy works, sublime, eternal,
+Are fair as on the primal day.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Since thou, O Lord, approachest us once more,
+And how it fares with us, to ask art fain,
+Since thou hast kindly welcom'd me of yore,
+Thou see'st me also now among thy train.
+Excuse me, fine harangues I cannot make,
+Though all the circle look on me with scorn;
+My pathos soon thy laughter would awake,
+Hadst thou the laughing mood not long forsworn.
+Of suns and worlds I nothing have to say,
+I see alone mankind's self-torturing pains.
+The little world-god still the self-same stamp retains,
+And is as wondrous now as on the primal day.
+Better he might have fared, poor wight,
+Hadst thou not given him a gleam of heavenly light;
+Reason he names it, and doth so
+Use it, than brutes more brutish still to grow.
+With deference to your grace, he seems to me
+Like any long-legged grasshopper to be,
+Which ever flies, and flying springs,
+And in the grass its ancient ditty sings.
+Would he but always in the grass repose!
+In every heap of dung he thrusts his nose.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Hast thou naught else to say? Is blame
+In coming here, as ever, thy sole aim?
+Does nothing on the earth to thee seem right?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+No, Lord! I find things there, as ever, in sad plight.
+Men, in their evil days, move my compassion;
+Such sorry things to plague is nothing worth.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Know'st thou my servant, Faust?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The doctor?
+
+THE LORD
+
+Right.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+He serves thee truly in a wondrous fashion.
+Poor fool! His food and drink are not of earth.
+An inward impulse hurries him afar,
+Himself half conscious of his frenzied mood;
+From heaven claimeth he the fairest star,
+And from the earth craves every highest good,
+And all that's near, and all that's far,
+Fails to allay the tumult in his blood.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Though in perplexity he serves me now,
+I soon will lead him where more light appears;
+When buds the sapling, doth the gardener know
+That flowers and fruit will deck the coming years!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What wilt thou wager? Him thou yet shall lose,
+If leave to me thou wilt but give,
+Gently to lead him as I choose!
+
+THE LORD
+
+So long as he on earth doth live,
+So long 'tis not forbidden thee.
+Man still must err, while he doth strive.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I thank you; for not willingly
+I traffic with the dead, and still aver
+That youth's plump blooming cheek I very much prefer.
+I'm not at home to corpses; 'tis my way,
+Like cats with captive mice to toy and play.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Enough! 'tis granted thee! Divert
+This mortal spirit from his primal source;
+Him, canst thou seize, thy power exert
+And lead him on thy downward course,
+Then stand abash'd, when thou perforce must own,
+A good man in his darkest aberration,
+Of the right path is conscious still.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis done! Full soon thou'lt see my exultation;
+As for my bet no fears I entertain.
+And if my end I finally should gain,
+Excuse my triumphing with all my soul.
+Dust he shall eat, ay, and with relish take,
+As did my cousin, the renownèd snake.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Here too thou'rt free to act without control;
+I ne'er have cherished hate for such as thee.
+Of all the spirits who deny,
+The scoffer is least wearisome to me.
+Ever too prone is man activity to shirk,
+In unconditioned rest he fain would live;
+Hence this companion purposely I give,
+Who stirs, excites, and must, as devil, work.
+But ye, the genuine sons of heaven, rejoice!
+In the full living beauty still rejoice!
+May that which works and lives, the ever-growing,
+In bonds of love enfold you, mercy-fraught,
+And Seeming's changeful forms, around you flowing,
+Do ye arrest, in ever-during thought!
+
+_[Heaven closes, the, Archangels disperse.]_
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES _(alone)_
+
+The ancient one I like sometimes to see,
+And not to break with him am always civil;
+'Tis courteous in so great a lord as he,
+To speak so kindly even to the devil.
+
+
+FAUST--PART I (1808)[34]
+
+TRANSLATED BY ANNA SWANWICK
+
+NIGHT
+
+_A high vaulted narrow Gothic chamber_.
+
+FAUST, _restless, seated at his desk._
+
+
+FAUST
+
+I have, alas! Philosophy,
+Medicine, Jurisprudence too,
+And to my cost Theology,
+With ardent labor, studied through.
+And here I stand, with all my lore,
+Poor fool, no wiser than before.
+Magister, doctor styled, indeed,
+Already these ten years I lead,
+Up, down, across, and to and fro,
+My pupils by the nose,--and learn,
+That we in truth can nothing know!
+That in my heart like fire doth burn.
+'Tis true, I've more cunning than all your dull tribe,
+Magister and doctor, priest, parson, and scribe;
+Scruple or doubt comes not to enthrall me,
+Neither can devil nor hell now appal me--
+Hence also my heart must all pleasure forego!
+I may not pretend aught rightly to know,
+I may not pretend, through teaching, to find
+A means to improve or convert mankind.
+Then I have neither goods nor treasure,
+No worldly honor, rank, or pleasure;
+No dog in such fashion would longer live!
+Therefore myself to magic I give,
+In hope, through spirit-voice and might,
+Secrets now veiled to bring to light,
+That I no more, with aching brow,
+Need speak of what I nothing know;
+That I the force may recognize
+That binds creation's inmost energies;
+Her vital powers, her embryo seeds survey,
+And fling the trade in empty words away.
+O full-orb'd moon, did but thy rays
+Their last upon mine anguish gaze!
+Beside this desk, at dead of night,
+Oft have I watched to hail thy light:
+Then, pensive friend! o'er book and scroll,
+With soothing power, thy radiance stole!
+In thy dear light, ah, might I climb,
+Freely, some mountain height sublime,
+Round mountain caves with spirits ride,
+In thy mild haze o'er meadows glide,
+And, purged from knowledge-fumes, renew
+My spirit, in thy healing dew!
+
+Woe's me! still prison'd in the gloom
+Of this abhorr'd and musty room!
+Where heaven's dear light itself doth pass
+But dimly through the painted glass!
+Hemmed in by book-heaps, piled around,
+Worm-eaten, hid 'neath dust and mold,
+Which to the high vault's topmast bound,
+A smoke-stained paper doth enfold;
+With boxes round thee piled, and glass,
+And many a useless instrument,
+With old ancestral lumber blent--
+This is thy world! a world! alas!
+And dost thou ask why heaves thy heart,
+With tighten'd pressure in thy breast?
+Why the dull ache will not depart,
+By which thy life-pulse is oppress'd?
+Instead of nature's living sphere,
+Created for mankind of old,
+Brute skeletons surround thee here,
+And dead men's bones in smoke and mold.
+Up! Forth into the distant land!
+Is not this book of mystery
+By Nostradamus' proper hand,
+An all-sufficient guide? Thou'lt see
+The courses of the stars unroll'd;
+When nature doth her thoughts unfold
+To thee, thy-soul shall rise, and seek
+Communion high with her to hold,
+As spirit cloth with spirit speak!
+Vain by dull poring to divine
+The meaning of each hallow'd sign.
+Spirits! I feel you hov'ring near;
+Make answer, if my voice ye hear!
+
+[_He opens the book and perceives the sign of the
+Macrocosmos_.]
+
+Ah! at this spectacle through every sense,
+What sudden ecstasy of joy is flowing!
+I feel new rapture, hallow'd and intense,
+Through every nerve and vein with ardor glowing.
+Was it a god who character'd this scroll,
+The tumult in my-spirit healing,
+O'er my sad heart with rapture stealing,
+And by a mystic impulse, to my soul,
+The powers of nature all around revealing.
+Am I a god? What light intense
+In these pure symbols do I see
+Nature exert her vital energy?
+Now of the wise man's words I learn the sense;
+ "Unlock'd the spirit-world is lying,
+ Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead!
+ Up scholar, lave, with zeal undying,
+ Thine earthly breast in the morning-red!"
+
+[_He contemplates the sign_.]
+
+How all things live and work, and ever blending,
+Weave one vast whole from Being's ample range!
+How powers celestial, rising and descending,
+Their golden buckets ceaseless interchange!
+Their flight on rapture-breathing pinions winging,
+From heaven to earth their genial influence bringing.
+Through the wild sphere their chimes melodious ringing!
+
+A wondrous show! but ah! a show alone!
+Where shall I grasp thee, infinite nature, where?
+Ye breasts, ye fountains of all life, whereon
+Hang heaven and earth, from which the withered heart
+For solace yearns, ye still impart
+Your sweet and fostering tides-where are ye-where?
+Ye gush, and must I languish in despair?
+
+[_He turns over the leaves of the book impatiently, and
+perceives the sign of the Earth-spirit_.]
+
+How all unlike the influence of this sign!
+Earth-spirit, thou to me art nigher,
+E'en now my strength is rising higher,
+E'en now I glow as with new wine;
+Courage I feel, abroad the world to dare,
+The woe of earth, the bliss of earth to bear,
+With storms to wrestle, brave the lightning's glare,
+And mid the crashing shipwreck not despair.
+
+Clouds gather over me--
+The moon conceals her light--
+The lamp is quench'd--
+Vapors are arising--Quiv'ring round my head
+Flash the red beams--Down from the vaulted roof
+A shuddering horror floats,
+And seizes me!
+I feel it, spirit, prayer-compell'd, 'tis thou
+Art hovering near!
+Unveil thyself!
+Ha! How my heart is riven now!
+Each sense, with eager palpitation,
+Is strain'd to catch some new sensation!
+I feel my heart surrender'd unto thee!
+Thou must! Thou must! Though life should be the fee!
+
+[_He seizes the book, and pronounces mysteriously the
+sign of the spirit. A ruddy flame flashes up; the
+spirit appears in the flame_.]
+
+SPIRIT
+
+Who calls me?
+
+FAUST (_turning aside_)
+
+Dreadful shape!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+With might,
+Thou hast compell'd me to appear,
+Long hast been sucking at my sphere,
+And now--
+
+FAUST
+
+Woe's me! I cannot bear thy sight!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+To see me thou dost breathe thine invocation,
+My voice to hear, to gaze upon my brow;
+Me doth thy strong entreaty bow--
+Lo! I am here!--What cowering agitation
+Grasps thee, the demigod! Where's now the soul's deep cry?
+Where is the breast, which in its depths a world conceiv'd,
+And bore and cherished? which, with ecstasy,
+To rank itself with us, the spirits, heaved?
+Where art thou, Faust? Whose voice heard I resound
+Who toward me press'd with energy profound?
+Art thou he? Thou,--who by my breath art blighted,
+Who, in his spirit's depths affrighted,
+Trembles, a crush'd and writhing worm!
+
+FAUST
+
+Shall I yield, thing of flame, to thee?
+Faust, and thine equal, I am he!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+In the currents of life, in action's storm,
+I float and I wave
+With billowy motion!
+Birth and the grave,
+O limitless ocean,
+A constant weaving
+With change still rife,
+A restless heaving,
+A glowing life---
+Thus time's whirring loom unceasing I ply,
+And weave the life-garment of deity.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou, restless spirit, dost from end to end
+O'ersweep the world; how near I feel to thee!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+Thou'rt like the spirit, thou dost comprehend,
+Not me! [_Vanishes_.]
+
+FAUST (_deeply moved_)
+
+Not thee
+Whom then?
+I, God's own image!
+And not rank with thee! [_A knock_.]
+Oh death! I know it-'tis my famulus--
+My fairest fortune now escapes!
+That all these visionary shapes
+A soulless groveller should banish thus!
+
+[WAGNER _in his dressing gown and night-cap, a lamp
+in his hand_. FAUST _turns round reluctantly_.]
+
+WAGNER
+
+Pardon! I heard you here declaim;
+A Grecian tragedy you doubtless read?
+Improvement in this art is now my aim,
+For now-a-days it much avails. Indeed
+An actor, oft I've heard it said, as teacher,
+May give instruction to a preacher.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay, if your priest should be an actor too,
+As not improbably may come to pass.
+
+WAGNER
+
+When in his study pent the whole year through,
+Man views the world, as through an optic glass,
+On a chance holiday, and scarcely then,
+How by persuasion can he govern men?
+
+FAUST
+
+If feeling prompt not, if it doth not flow
+Fresh from the spirit's depths, with strong control
+Swaying to rapture every listener's soul,
+Idle your toil; the chase you may forego!
+Brood o'er your task! Together glue,
+Cook from another's feast your own ragout,
+Still prosecute your paltry game,
+And fan your ash-heaps into flame!
+Thus children's wonder you'll excite,
+And apes', if such your appetite;
+But that which issues from the heart alone,
+Will bend the hearts of others to your own.
+
+WAGNER
+
+The speaker in delivery, will find
+Success alone; I still am far behind.
+
+FAUST
+
+A worthy object still pursue!
+Be not a hollow tinkling fool!
+Sound understanding, judgment true,
+Find utterance without art or rule;
+And when in earnest you are moved to speak,
+Then is it needful cunning words to seek?
+Your fine harangues, so polish'd in their kind,
+Wherein the shreds of human thought ye twist,
+Are unrefreshing as the empty wind,
+Whistling through wither'd leaves and autumn mist!
+
+WAGNER
+
+Oh God! How long is art,
+Our life how short! With earnest zeal
+Still as I ply the critic's task, I feel
+A strange oppression both of head and heart.
+The very means--how hardly are they won,
+By which we to the fountains rise!
+And, haply, ere one half the course is run,
+Check'd in his progress, the poor devil dies.
+
+FAUST
+
+Parchment, is that the sacred fount whence roll
+Waters he thirsteth not who once hath quaffed?
+Oh, if it gush not from thine inmost soul,
+Thou hast not won the life-restoring draught.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Your pardon! 'tis delightful to transport
+Oneself into the spirit of the past,
+To see in times before us how a wise man thought,
+And what a glorious height we have achieved at last.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay, truly! even to the loftiest star!
+To us, my friend, the ages that are pass'd
+A book with seven seals, close-fasten'd, are;
+And what the spirit of the times men call,
+Is merely their own spirit after all,
+Wherein, distorted oft, the times are glass'd.
+Then truly, 'tis a sight to grieve the soul!
+At the first glance we fly it in dismay;
+A very lumber-room, a rubbish-hole;
+At best a sort of mock-heroic play,
+With saws pragmatical, and maxims sage,
+To suit the puppets and their mimic stage.
+
+WAGNER
+
+But then the world and man, his heart and brain!
+Touching these things all men would something know.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay! what 'mong men as knowledge doth obtain!
+Who on the child its true name dares bestow?
+The few who somewhat of these things have known,
+Who their full hearts unguardedly reveal'd,
+Nor thoughts, nor feelings, from the mob conceal'd,
+Have died on crosses, or in flames been thrown.--
+Excuse me, friend, far now the night is spent,
+For this time we must say adieu.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Still to watch on I had been well content,
+Thus to converse so learnedly with you.
+But as tomorrow will be Easter-day,
+Some further questions grant, I pray;
+With diligence to study still I fondly cling;
+Already I know much, but would know everything. [Exit.]
+
+FAUST (_alone_)
+
+How him alone all hope abandons never,
+To empty trash who clings, with zeal untired,
+With greed for treasure gropes, and, joy-inspir'd,
+Exults if earth-worms second his endeavor.
+
+And dare a voice of merely human birth,
+E'en here, where shapes immortal throng'd, intrude?
+Yet ah! thou poorest of the sons of earth,
+For once, I e'en to thee feel gratitude.
+Despair the power of sense did well-nigh blast,
+And thou didst save me ere I sank dismay'd;
+So giant-like the vision seem'd, so vast,
+I felt myself shrink dwarf'd as I survey'd!
+
+I, God's own image, from this toil of clay
+Already freed, with eager joy who hail'd
+The mirror of eternal truth unveil'd,
+Mid light effulgent and celestial day
+I, more than cherub, whose unfetter'd soul
+With penetrative glance aspir'd to flow
+Through nature's veins, and, still creating, know
+The life of gods,--how am I punish'd now!
+One thunder-word hath hurl'd me from the goal!
+
+Spirit! I dare not lift me to thy sphere.
+What though my power compell'd thee to appear,
+My art was powerless to detain thee here.
+In that great moment, rapture-fraught,
+I felt myself so small, so great;
+Fiercely didst thrust me from the realm of thought
+Back on humanity's uncertain fate!
+Who'll teach me now? What ought I to forego?
+Ought I that impulse to obey?
+Alas! our every deed, as well as every woe,
+Impedes the tenor of life's onward way!
+
+E'en to the noblest by the soul conceiv'd,
+Some feelings cling of baser quality;
+And when the goods of this world are achiev'd,
+Each nobler aim is term'd a cheat, a lie.
+Our aspirations, our soul's genuine life,
+Grow torpid in the din of earthly strife.
+
+Though youthful phantasy, while hope inspires,
+Stretch o'er the infinite her wing sublime,
+A narrow compass limits her desires,
+When wreck'd our fortunes in the gulf of time.
+In the deep heart of man care builds her nest,
+O'er secret woes she broodeth there,
+Sleepless she rocks herself and scareth joy and rest;
+Still is she wont some new disguise to wear--
+She may as house and court, as wife and child appear,
+As dagger, poison, fire and flood;
+Imagined evils chill thy blood,
+And what thou ne'er shalt lose, o'er that dost shed the tear.
+
+I am not like the gods! Feel it I must;
+I'm like the earth-worm, writhing in the dust,
+Which, as on dust it feeds, its native fare,
+Crushed 'neath the passer's tread, lies buried there.
+
+Is it not dust, wherewith this lofty wall,
+With hundred shelves, confines me round;
+Rubbish, in thousand shapes, may I not call
+What in this moth-world doth my being bound?
+Here, what doth fail me, shall I find?
+Read in a thousand tomes that, everywhere,
+Self-torture is the lot of human-kind,
+With but one mortal happy, here and there
+Thou hollow skull, that grin, what should it say,
+But that thy brain, like mine, of old perplexed,
+Still yearning for the truth, hath sought the light of day,
+And in the twilight wandered, sorely vexed?
+Ye instruments, forsooth, ye mock at me,--
+With wheel, and cog, and ring, and cylinder;
+To nature's portals ye should be the key;
+Cunning your wards, and yet the bolts ye fail to stir.
+Inscrutable in broadest light,
+To be unveil'd by force she doth refuse,
+What she reveals not to thy mental sight
+Thou wilt not wrest from her with levers and with screws.
+Old useless furnitures, yet stand ye here,
+Because my sire ye served, now dead and gone.
+Old scroll, the smoke of years dost wear,
+So long as o'er this desk the sorry lamp hath shone.
+Better my little means hath squandered quite away
+Than burden'd by that little here to sweat and groan!
+Wouldst thou possess thy heritage, essay
+By use to render it thine own!
+What we employ not but impedes our way;
+That which the hour creates, that can it use alone!
+
+But wherefore to yon spot is riveted my gaze?
+Is yonder flasket there a magnet to my sight?
+Whence this mild radiance that around me plays,
+As when, 'mid forest gloom, reigneth the moon's soft light?
+Hail, precious phial! Thee, with reverent awe,
+Down from thine old receptacle I draw!
+Science in thee I hail and human art.
+
+Essence of deadliest powers, refin'd and sure,
+Of soothing anodynes abstraction pure,
+Now in thy master's need thy grace impart!
+I gaze on thee, my pain is lull'd to rest;
+I grasp thee, calm'd the tumult in my breast;
+The flood-tide of my spirit ebbs away;
+Onward I'm summon'd o'er a boundless main,
+Calm at my feet expands the glassy plain,
+To shores unknown allures a brighter day.
+
+Lo, where a car of fire, on airy pinion,
+Comes floating towards me! I'm prepar'd to fly
+By a new track through ether's wide dominion,
+To distant spheres of pure activity.
+This life intense, this godlike ecstasy--
+Worm that thou art such rapture canst thou earn!
+Only resolve, with courage stern and high,
+Thy visage from the radiant sun to turn!
+Dare with determin'd will to burst the portals
+Past which in terror others fain would steal!
+Now is the time, through deeds, to show that mortals
+The calm sublimity of gods can feel;
+To shudder not at yonder dark abyss
+Where phantasy creates her own self-torturing brood;
+Right onward to the yawning gulf to press,
+Around whose narrow jaws rolleth hell's fiery flood;
+With glad resolve to take the fatal leap,
+Though danger threaten thee, to sink in endless sleep!
+
+Pure crystal goblet! forth I draw thee now
+From out thine antiquated case, where thou
+Forgotten hast reposed for many a year!
+Oft at my father's revels thou didst shine;
+To glad the earnest guests was thine,
+As each to other passed the generous cheer.
+The gorgeous brede of figures, quaintly wrought,
+Which he who quaff'd must first in rhyme expound,
+Then drain the goblet at one draught profound,
+Hath nights of boyhood to fond memory brought.
+I to my neighbor shall not reach thee now,
+Nor on thy rich device shall I my cunning show.
+Here is a juice, makes drunk without delay;
+Its dark brown flood thy crystal round doth fill;
+Let this last draught, the product of my skill,
+My own free choice, be quaff'd with resolute will,
+A solemn festive greeting, to the coming day!
+           [_He places the goblet to his mouth_.]
+
+[_The ringing of bells, and choral voices_.]
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS
+
+Christ is arisen!
+Mortal, all hail to thee,
+Thou whom mortality,
+Earth's sad reality,
+Held as in prison.
+
+FAUST
+
+What hum melodious, what clear silvery chime,
+Thus draws the goblet from my lips away?
+Ye deep-ton'd bells, do ye, with voice sublime,
+Announce the solemn dawn of Easter-day?
+Sweet choir! are ye the hymn of comfort singing,
+Which once around the darkness of the grave,
+From seraph-voices, in glad triumph ringing,
+Of a new covenant assurance gave?
+
+CHORUS OF WOMEN
+
+We, his true-hearted,
+With spices and myrrh.
+Embalmed the departed,
+And swathed Him with care;
+Here we conveyed Him,
+Our Master, so dear;
+Alas! Where we laid Him,
+The Christ is not here.
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS
+
+Christ is arisen!
+Blessed the loving one,
+Who from earth's trial-throes,
+Healing and strengthening woes,
+Soars as from prison.
+
+FAUST
+
+Wherefore, ye tones celestial, sweet and strong,
+Come ye a dweller in the dust to seek?
+Ring out your chimes believing crowds among,
+The message well I hear, my faith alone is weak;
+From faith her darling, miracle, hath sprung.
+Aloft to yonder spheres I dare not soar,
+Whence sound the tidings of great joy;
+And yet, with this sweet strain familiar when a boy,
+Back it recalleth me to life once more.
+Then would celestial love, with holy kiss,
+Come o'er me in the Sabbath's stilly hour,
+While, fraught with solemn meaning and mysterious power,
+Chim'd the deep-sounding bell, and prayer was bliss;
+A yearning impulse, undefin'd yet dear,
+Drove me to wander on through wood and field;
+With heaving breast and many a burning tear,
+I felt with holy joy a world reveal'd.
+Gay sports and festive hours proclaim'd with joyous pealing
+This Easter hymn in days of old;
+And fond remembrance now doth me, with childlike feeling,
+Back from the last, the solemn step, withhold.
+O still sound on, thou sweet celestial strain!
+The tear-drop flows--Earth, I am thine again!
+
+CHORUS OF DISCIPLES
+
+He whom we mourned as dead,
+Living and glorious,
+
+From the dark grave hath fled,
+O'er death victorious;
+Almost creative bliss
+Waits on His growing powers;
+Ah! Him on earth we miss;
+Sorrow and grief are ours.
+Yearning He left His own,
+Mid sore annoy;
+Ah! we must needs bemoan,
+Master, thy joy!
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS
+
+Christ is arisen,
+Redeem'd from decay.
+The bonds which imprison
+Your souls, rend away!
+Praising the Lord with zeal,
+By deeds that love reveal,
+Like brethren true and leal
+Sharing the daily meal,
+To all that sorrow feel
+Whisp'ring of heaven's weal,
+Still is the Master near,
+Still is He here!
+
+BEFORE THE GATE
+_Promenaders of all sorts pass out_.
+
+ARTISANS
+
+Why choose ye that direction, pray?
+
+OTHERS
+
+To the hunting-lodge we're on our way.
+
+THE FIRST
+
+We toward the mill are strolling on.
+
+A MECHANIC
+
+A walk to Wasserhof were best.
+
+A SECOND
+
+The road is not a pleasant one.
+
+THE OTHERS
+
+What will you do?
+
+A THIRD
+
+I'll join the rest.
+
+A FOURTH
+
+Let's up to Burghof, there you'll find good cheer,
+The prettiest maidens and the best of beer,
+And brawls of a prime sort.
+
+A FIFTH
+
+You scapegrace! How?
+Your skin still itching for a row?
+Thither I will not go, I loathe the place.
+
+SERVANT GIRL
+
+No, no! I to the town my steps retrace.
+
+ANOTHER
+
+Near yonder poplars he is sure to be.
+
+THE FIRST
+
+And if he is, what matters it to me!
+With you he'll walk, he'll dance with none but you,
+And with your pleasures what have I to do?
+
+THE SECOND
+
+Today he will not be alone, he said
+His friend would be with him, the curly-head.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Why how those buxom girls step on!
+Come, brother, we will follow them anon.
+Strong beer, a damsel smartly dress'd,
+Stinging tobacco--these I love the best.
+
+BURGHER'S DAUGHTER
+
+Look at those handsome fellows there!
+'Tis really shameful, I declare;
+The very best society they shun,
+After those servant-girls forsooth, to run.
+
+SECOND STUDENT (_to the first_)
+
+Not quite so fast! for in our rear,
+Two girls, well-dress'd, are drawing near;
+Not far from us the one doth dwell,
+And, sooth to say, I like her well.
+They walk demurely, yet you'll see,
+That they will let us join them presently.
+
+THE FIRST
+
+Not I! restraints of all kinds I detest.
+Quick! let us catch the wild-game ere it flies;
+The hand on Saturday the mop that plies
+Will on the Sunday fondle you the best.
+
+BURGHER
+
+No, this new Burgomaster; I like him not, God knows;
+No, he's in office; daily more arrogant he grows;
+And for the town, what doth he do for it?
+Are not things worse from day to day?
+To more restraints we must submit;
+And taxes more than ever pay.
+
+BEGGAR (_sings_)
+
+Kind gentlemen and ladies fair,
+So rosy-cheek'd and trimly dress'd,
+Be pleas'd to listen to my prayer;
+Relieve and pity the distress'd.
+Let me not vainly sing my lay!
+His heart's most glad whose hand is free.
+Now when all men keep holiday,
+Should be a harvest-day to me.
+
+OTHER BURGHER
+
+On holidays and Sundays naught know I more inviting
+Than chatting about war and war's alarms,
+When folk in Turkey, up in arms,
+Far off, are 'gainst each other fighting.
+We at the window stand, our glasses drain
+And watch adown the stream the painted vessels gliding;
+Then joyful we at eve come home again,
+And peaceful times we bless, peace long-abiding.
+
+THIRD BURGHER
+
+Ay, neighbor! So let matters stand for me!
+There they may scatter one another's brains,
+And wild confusion round them see--
+So here at home in quiet all remains!
+
+OLD WOMAN (_to the_ BURGHERS' DAUGHTERS)
+
+Heyday! How smart! The fresh young blood!
+Who would not fall in love with you?
+Not quite so proud! 'Tis well and good!
+And what you wish, that I could help you to.
+
+BURGHER'S DAUGHTER
+
+Come, Agatha! I care not to be seen
+Walking in public with these witches. True,
+My future lover, last St. Andrew's E'en,
+In flesh and blood she brought before my view.
+
+ANOTHER
+
+And mine she show'd me also in the glass.
+A soldier's figure, with companions bold;
+I look around, I seek him as I pass--
+In vain, his form I nowhere can behold.
+
+SOLDIERS
+
+Fortress with turrets
+And walls high in air,
+Damsel disdainful,
+Haughty and fair--
+These be my prey!
+Bold is the venture,
+Costly the pay!
+
+Hark, how the trumpet
+Thither doth call us
+Where either pleasure
+Or death may befall us!
+Hail to the tumult!
+Life's in the field!
+Damsel and fortress
+To us must yield.
+Bold is the venture,
+Costly the pay!
+Gaily the soldier
+Marches away.
+
+FAUST _and_ WAGNER
+
+FAUST
+
+Loosed from their fetters are streams and rills
+Through the gracious spring-tide's all-quickening glow;
+Hope's budding joy in the vale doth blow;
+Old Winter back to the savage hills
+Withdraweth his force, decrepid now.
+Thence only impotent icy grains
+Scatters he as he wings his flight,
+Striping with sleet the verdant plains;
+But the sun endureth no trace of white;
+Everywhere growth and movement are rife,
+All things investing with hues of life
+Though flowers are lacking, varied of dye,
+Their colors the motley throng supply.
+Turn thee around, and, from this height,
+Back to the town direct thy sight.
+Forth from the hollow, gloomy gate,
+Stream forth the masses, in bright array.
+Gladly seek they the sun today;
+
+The Lord's Resurrection they celebrate:
+For they themselves have risen, with joy,
+From tenement sordid, from cheerless room,
+From bonds of toil, from care and annoy,
+From gable and roof's o'erhanging gloom,
+From crowded alley and narrow street,
+And from the churches' awe-breathing night
+All now have come forth into the light.
+Look, only look, on nimble feet,
+Through garden and field how spread the throng,
+How o'er the river's ample sheet
+Many a gay wherry glides along;
+And see, deep sinking in the tide,
+Pushes the last boat now away.
+E'en from yon far hill's path-worn side,
+Flash the bright hues of garments gay.
+Hark! Sounds of village mirth arise;
+This is the people's paradise.
+Both great and small send up a cheer;
+Here am I man, I feel it here.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Sir Doctor, in a walk with you
+There's honor and instruction too;
+Yet here alone I care not to resort,
+Because I coarseness hate of every sort.
+This fiddling, shouting, skittling, I detest;
+I hate the tumult of the vulgar throng;
+They roar as by the evil one possess'd,
+And call it pleasure, call it song.
+
+PEASANTS (_under the linden-tree_)
+
+_Dance and Sing_.
+
+  The shepherd for the dance was dress'd,
+  With ribbon, wreath, and colored vest,
+  A gallant show displaying.
+  And round about the linden-tree,
+
+  They footed it right merrily.
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  So fiddle-bow was braying.
+  Our swain amidst the circle press'd,
+  He push'd a maiden trimly dress'd,
+  And jogg'd her with his elbow;
+  The buxom damsel turn'd her head,
+  "Now that's a stupid trick!" she said,
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  Don't be so rude, good fellow!
+
+  Swift in the circle they advanced,
+  They danced to right, to left they danced,
+  And all the skirts were swinging.
+  And they grew red, and they grew warm,
+  Panting, they rested arm in arm,
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  To hip their elbow bringing.
+
+  Don't make so free! How many a maid
+  Has been betroth'd and then betray'd;
+  And has repented after!
+  Yet still he flatter'd her aside,
+  And from the linden, far and wide,
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  Rang fiddle-bow and laughter.
+
+OLD PEASANT
+
+Doctor, 'tis really kind of you,
+To condescend to come this way,
+A highly learned man like you,
+To join our mirthful throng today.
+Our fairest cup I offer you,
+Which we with sparkling drink have crown'd,
+And pledging you, I pray aloud,
+That every drop within its round,
+While it your present thirst allays,
+May swell the number of your days.
+
+FAUST
+
+I take the cup you kindly reach,
+Thanks and prosperity to each!
+[_The crowd gather round in a circle_.]
+
+OLD PEASANT
+
+Ay, truly! 'tis well done, that you
+Our festive meeting thus attend;
+You, who in evil days of yore,
+So often show'd yourself our friend!
+Full many a one stands living here,
+Who from the fever's deadly blast
+Your father rescu'd, when his skill
+The fatal sickness stay'd at last.
+A young man then, each house you sought,
+Where reign'd the mortal pestilence.
+Corpse after corpse was carried forth,
+But still unscath'd you issued thence.
+Sore then your trials and severe;
+The Helper yonder aids the helper here.
+
+ALL
+
+Heaven bless the trusty friend, and long
+To help the poor his life prolong!
+
+FAUST
+
+To Him above in homage bend,
+Who prompts the helper and Who help doth send.
+[_He proceeds with_ WAGNER.]
+
+WAGNER
+
+What feelings, great man, must thy breast inspire,
+At homage paid thee by this crowd! Thrice blest
+Who from the gifts by him possessed
+Such benefit can draw! The sire
+Thee to his boy with reverence shows,
+
+They press around, inquire, advance,
+Hush'd is the fiddle, check'd the dance.
+Where thou dost pass they stand in rows,
+And each aloft his bonnet throws,
+But little fails and they to thee,
+As though the Host came by, would bend the knee.
+
+FAUST
+
+A few steps further, up to yonder stone!
+Here rest we from our walk. In times long past,
+Absorb'd in thought, here oft I sat alone,
+And disciplin'd myself with prayer and fast.
+Then rich in hope, with faith sincere,
+With sighs, and hands in anguish press'd,
+The end of that sore plague, with many a tear,
+From heaven's dread Lord, I sought to wrest.
+The crowd's applause assumes a scornful tone.
+Oh, could'st thou in my inner being read
+How little either sire or son
+Of such renown deserves the meed!
+
+My sire, of good repute, and sombre mood,
+O'er nature's powers and every mystic zone,
+With honest zeal, but methods of his own,
+With toil fantastic loved to brood;
+
+His time in dark alchemic cell,
+With brother-adepts he would spend,
+And there antagonists compel
+Through numberless receipts to blend.
+A ruddy lion there, a suitor bold,
+In tepid bath was with the lily wed.
+Thence both, while open flames around them roll'd,
+Were tortur'd to another bridal bed.
+
+Was then the youthful queen descried
+With varied colors in the flask--
+This was our medicine; the patients died;
+"Who were restored?" none cared to ask.
+With our infernal mixture thus, ere long.
+These hills and peaceful vales among
+We rag'd more fiercely than the pest;
+Myself the deadly poison did to thousands give;
+They pined away, I yet must live
+To hear the reckless murderers blest.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Why let this thought your soul o'ercast?
+Can man do more than with nice skill,
+With firm and conscientious will,
+Practise the art transmitted from the past?
+If thou thy sire dost honor in thy youth,
+His lore thou gladly wilt receive;
+In manhood, dost thou spread the bounds of truth,
+Then may thy son a higher goal achieve.
+
+FAUST
+
+How blest, in whom the fond desire
+From error's sea to rise, hope still renews!
+What a man knows not, that he doth require,
+And what he knoweth, that he cannot use.
+But let not moody thoughts their shadow throw
+O'er the calm beauty of this hour serene!
+In the rich sunset see how brightly glow
+Yon cottage homes, girt round with verdant green!
+Slow sinks the orb, the day is now no more;
+Yonder he hastens to diffuse new life.
+Oh for a pinion from the earth to soar,
+And after, ever after him to strive!
+Then should I see the world below,
+Bathed in the deathless evening-beams,
+The vales reposing, every height a-glow,
+The silver brooklets meeting golden streams.
+The savage mountain, with its cavern'd side,
+Bars not my godlike progress. Lo, the ocean,
+Its warm bays heaving with a tranquil motion,
+To my rapt vision opes its ample tide!
+But now at length the god appears to sink
+A new-born impulse wings my flight,
+Onward I press, his quenchless light to drink,
+The day before me, and behind the night,
+The pathless waves beneath, and over me the skies.
+Fair dream, it vanish'd with the parting day!
+Alas! that when on spirit-wing we rise,
+No wing material lifts our mortal clay.
+But 'tis our inborn impulse, deep and strong,
+Upwards and onwards still to urge our flight,
+When far above us pours its thrilling song
+The sky-lark, lost in azure light;
+When on extended wing amain
+O'er pine-crown'd height the eagle soars;
+And over moor and lake, the crane
+Still striveth toward its native shores.
+
+WAGNER
+
+To strange conceits oft I myself must own,
+But impulse such as this I ne'er have known
+Nor woods, nor fields, can long our thoughts engage;
+Their wings I envy not the feather'd kind;
+Far otherwise the pleasures of the mind
+Bear us from book to book, from page to page I
+Then winter nights grow cheerful; keen delight
+Warms every limb; and ah! when we unroll
+Some old and precious parchment, at the sight
+All heaven itself descends upon the soul.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thy heart by one sole impulse is possess'd;
+Unconscious of the other still remain!
+Two souls, alas! are lodg'd within my breast,
+Which struggle there for undivided reign
+One to the world, with obstinate desire,
+And closely-cleaving organs, still adheres;
+Above the mist, the other doth aspire,
+With sacred vehemence, to purer spheres.
+Oh, are there spirits in the air
+Who float 'twixt heaven and earth dominion wielding,
+Stoop hither from your golden atmosphere,
+
+Lead me to scenes, new life and fuller yielding!
+A magic mantle did I but possess,
+Abroad to waft me as on viewless wings,
+I'd prize it far beyond the costliest dress,
+Nor would I change it for the robe of kings.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Call not the spirits who on mischief wait!
+Their troop familiar, streaming through the air,
+From every quarter threaten man's estate,
+And danger in a thousand forms prepare!
+They drive impetuous from the frozen north,
+With fangs sharp-piercing, and keen arrowy tongues;
+From the ungenial east they issue forth,
+And prey, with parching breath, upon thy lungs;
+If, waft'd on the desert's flaming wing,
+They from the south heap fire upon the brain,
+Refreshment from the west at first they bring,
+Anon to drown thyself and field and plain.
+In wait for mischief, they are prompt to hear;
+With guileful purpose our behests obey;
+Like ministers of grace they oft appear,
+And lisp like angels, to betray.
+But let us hence! Gray eve doth all things blend,
+The air grows chill, the mists descend!
+'Tis in the evening first our home we prize--
+Why stand you thus, and gaze with wondering eyes?
+What in the gloom thus moves you?
+
+FAUST
+
+                                  Yon black hound
+See 'st thou, through corn and stubble scampering round?
+
+WAGNER
+
+I've mark'd him long, naught strange in him I see!
+
+FAUST
+
+Note him! What takest thou the brute to be?
+
+WAGNER
+
+But for a poodle, whom his instinct serves
+His master's track to find once more.
+
+FAUST
+
+Dost mark how round us, with wide spiral curves,
+He wheels, each circle closer than before?
+And, if I err not, he appears to me
+A line of 'fire upon his track to leave.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Naught but a poodle black of hue I see;
+'Tis some illusion doth your sight deceive.
+
+FAUST
+
+Methinks a magic coil our feet around,
+He for a future snare doth lightly spread.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Around us as in doubt I see him shyly bound,
+Since he two strangers seeth in his master's stead.
+
+FAUST
+
+The circle narrows, he's already near!
+
+WAGNER
+
+A dog dost see, no spectre have we here;
+He growls, doubts, lays him on his belly too,
+And wags his tail-as dogs are wont to do.
+
+FAUST
+
+Come hither, Sirrah! join our company!
+
+WAGNER
+
+A very poodle, he appears to be!
+Thou standest still, for thee he'll wait;
+Thou speak'st to him, he fawns upon thee straight;
+Aught thou mayst lose, again he'll bring,
+And for thy stick will into water spring.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou'rt right indeed; no traces now I see
+Whatever of a spirit's agency,
+'Tis training--nothing more.
+
+WAGNER
+
+                   A dog well taught
+E'en by the wisest of us may be sought.
+Ay, to your favor he's entitled too,
+Apt scholar of the students, 'tis his due!
+
+[_They enter the gate of the town_.]
+
+STUDY
+
+FAUST (_entering with, the poodle_)
+
+Now field and meadow I've forsaken;
+O'er them deep night her veil doth draw;
+In us the better soul doth waken,
+With feelings of foreboding awe.
+All lawless promptings, deeds unholy,
+Now slumber, and all wild desires;
+The love of man doth sway us wholly,
+And love to God the soul inspires.
+
+Peace, poodle, peace! Scamper not thus; obey me!
+Why at the threshold snuffest thou so?
+Behind the stove now quietly lay thee,
+My softest cushion to thee I'll throw.
+As thou, without, didst please and amuse me,
+Running and frisking about on the hill,
+So tendance now I will not refuse thee;
+A welcome guest, if thou'lt be still.
+
+Ah! when the friendly taper gloweth,
+Once more within our narrow cell,
+Then in the heart itself that knoweth,
+A light the darkness doth dispel.
+Reason her voice resumes; returneth
+Hope's gracious bloom, with promise rife;
+For streams of life the spirit yearneth,
+Ah! for the very fount of life.
+Poodle, snarl not! with the tone that arises,
+Hallow'd and peaceful, my soul within,
+Accords not thy growl, thy bestial din.
+We find it not strange, that man despises
+What he conceives not;
+That he the good and fair misprizes--
+Finding them often beyond his ken;
+Will the dog snarl at them like men?
+
+But ah! Despite my will, it stands confessed;
+Contentment welleth up no longer in my breast.
+Yet wherefore must the stream, alas, so soon be dry,
+That we once more athirst should lie?
+Full oft this sad experience hath been mine;
+Nathless the want admits of compensation;
+For things above the earth we learn to pine,
+Our spirits yearn for revelation,
+Which nowhere burns with purer beauty blent,
+Than here in the New Testament.
+To ope the ancient text an impulse strong
+Impels me, and its sacred lore,
+With honest purpose to explore,
+And render into my loved German tongue.
+
+[_He opens a volume and applies himself to it_.]
+
+'Tis writ, "In the beginning was the Word!"
+I pause, perplex'd! Who now will help afford?
+I cannot the mere Word so highly prize;
+I must translate it otherwise,
+If by the spirit guided as I read.
+"In the beginning was the Sense!" Take heed,
+The import of this primal sentence weigh,
+Lest thy too hasty pen be led astray!
+Is force creative then of Sense the dower?
+"In the beginning was the Power!"
+Thus should it stand: yet, while the line I trace,
+A something warns me, once more to efface.
+The spirit aids! from anxious scruples freed,
+I write, "In the beginning was the Deed!"
+
+Am I with thee my room to share,
+Poodle, thy barking now forbear,
+Forbear thy howling!
+Comrade so noisy, ever growling,
+I cannot suffer here to dwell.
+One or the other, mark me well,
+Forthwith must leave the cell.
+I'm loath the guest-right to withhold;
+The door's ajar, the passage clear;
+But what must now mine eyes behold!
+Are nature's laws suspended here?
+Real is it, or a phantom show?
+In length and breadth how doth my poodle grow!
+He lifts himself with threat'ning mien,
+In likeness of a dog no longer seen!
+What spectre have I harbor'd thus!
+Huge as a hippopotamus,
+With fiery eye, terrific tooth!
+Ah! now I know thee, sure enough!
+For such a base, half-hellish brood,
+The key of Solomon is good.
+
+SPIRITS (_without_)
+
+Captur'd there within is one!
+Stay without and follow none!
+Like a fox in iron snare,
+Hell's old lynx is quaking there,
+ But take heed'!
+Hover round, above, below,
+ To and fro,
+Then from durance is he freed!
+Can ye aid him, spirits all,
+Leave him not in mortal thrall!
+Many a time and oft hath he
+Served us, when at liberty.
+
+FAUST
+
+The monster to confront, at first,
+The spell of Four must be rehears'd;
+
+ Salamander shall kindle,
+ Writhe nymph of the wave,
+ In air sylph shall dwindle,
+ And Kobold shall slave.
+
+Who doth ignore
+The primal Four,
+Nor knows aright
+Their use and might,
+O'er spirits will he
+Ne'er master be!
+
+ Vanish in the fiery glow,
+ Salamander!
+ Rushingly together flow,
+ Undine!
+ Shimmer in the meteor's gleam,
+ Sylphide!
+ Hither bring thine homely aid,
+ Incubus! Incubus!
+ Step forth! I do adjure thee thus!
+
+None of the Four
+Lurks in the beast;
+He grins at me, untroubled as before;
+I have not hurt him in the least.
+A spell of fear
+Thou now shalt hear.
+
+ Art thou, comrade fell,
+ Fugitive from Hell?
+ See then this sign,
+ Before which incline
+ The murky troops of Hell!
+With bristling hair now doth the creature swell.
+
+ Canst thou, reprobate,
+ Read the uncreate,
+ Unspeakable, diffused
+ Throughout the heavenly sphere,
+ Shamefully abused,
+ Transpierced with nail and spear!
+
+Behind the stove, tam'd by my spells,
+Like an elephant he swells;
+Wholly now he fills the room,
+He into mist will melt away.
+Ascend not to the ceiling! Come,
+Thyself at the master's feet now lay!
+Thou seest that mine is no idle threat.
+With holy fire I will scorch thee yet!
+Wait not the might
+That lies in the triple-glowing light!
+Wait not the might
+Of all my arts in fullest measure!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_as the mist sinks, comes forward from
+behind the stove, in the dress of a traveling scholar_)
+
+Why all this uproar? What's the master's pleasure?
+
+FAUST
+
+This then the kernel of the brute!
+A traveling scholar? Why I needs must smile.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Your learned reverence humbly I salute!
+You've made me swelter in a pretty style.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thy name?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+         The question trifling seems from one,
+Who it appears the Word doth rate so low;
+Who, undeluded by mere outward show,
+To Being's depths would penetrate alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+With gentlemen like you indeed
+The inward essence from the name we read,
+As all too plainly it doth appear,
+When Beelzebub, Destroyer, Liar, meets the ear.
+Who then art thou?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+           Part of that power which still
+Produceth good, whilst ever scheming ill.
+
+FAUST
+
+What hidden mystery in this riddle lies?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The spirit I, which evermore denies!
+And justly; for whate'er to light is brought
+Deserves again to be reduced to naught;
+Then better 'twere that naught should be.
+Thus all the elements which ye
+Destruction, Sin, or briefly, Evil, name,
+As my peculiar element I claim.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou nam'st thyself a part, and yet a whole I see.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The modest truth I speak to thee.
+Though folly's microcosm, man, it seems,
+Himself to be a perfect whole esteems:
+Part of the part am I, which at the first was all,
+A part of darkness, which gave birth to light--
+Proud light, who now his mother would enthrall,
+Contesting space and ancient rank with night.
+Yet he succeedeth not, for struggle as he will,
+To forms material he adhereth still;
+From them he streameth, them he maketh fair,
+And still the progress of his beams they check;
+And so, I trust, when comes the final wreck,
+Light will, ere long, the doom of matter share.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thy worthy avocation now I guess!
+Wholesale annihilation won't prevail,
+So thou'rt beginning on a smaller scale.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And, to say truth, as yet with small success.
+Oppos'd to naught, this clumsy world,
+The something--it subsisteth still;
+Not yet is it to ruin hurl'd,
+Despite the efforts of my will.
+Tempests and earthquakes, fire and flood, I've tried;
+Yet land and ocean still unchang'd abide!
+And then of humankind and beasts, the accursed brood,--
+Neither o'er them can I extend my sway.
+What countless myriads have I swept away!
+Yet ever circulates the fresh young blood.
+It is enough to drive me to despair!
+As in the earth, in water, and in air,
+A thousand germs burst forth spontaneously;
+In moisture, drought, heat, cold, they still appear!
+Had I not flame selected as my sphere,
+Nothing apart had been reserved for me.
+
+FAUST
+
+So thou with thy cold devil's fist,
+Still clench'd in malice impotent,
+Dost the creative power resist,
+The active, the beneficent!
+Henceforth some other task essay,
+Of Chaos thou the wondrous son!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We will consider what you say,
+And talk about it more anon!
+For this time have I leave to go?
+
+FAUST
+
+Why thou shouldst ask, I cannot see.
+Since thee I now have learned to know,
+
+At thy good pleasure, visit me.
+Here is the window, here the door,
+The chimney, too, may serve thy need.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I must confess, my stepping o'er
+Thy threshold a slight hindrance doth impede;
+The wizard-foot doth me retain.
+
+FAUST
+
+The pentagram thy peace doth mart
+To me, thou son of hell, explain,
+How camest thou in, if this thine exit bar?
+Could such a spirit aught ensnare?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Observe it well, it is not drawn with care;
+One of the angles, that which points without,
+Is, as thou seest, not quite closed.
+
+FAUST
+
+Chance hath the matter happily dispos'd!
+So thou my captive art? No doubt!
+By accident thou thus art caught!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In sprang the dog, indeed, observing naught;
+Things now assume another shape,
+The devil's in the house and can't escape.
+
+FAUST
+
+Why through the window not withdraw?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+For ghosts and for the devil 'tis a law,
+Where they stole in, there they must forth. We're free
+The first to choose; as to the second, slaves are we.
+
+FAUST
+
+E'en hell hath its peculiar laws, I see!
+I'm glad of that! a pact may then be made,
+The which you gentlemen will surely keep?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Whate'er therein is promised thou shalt reap,
+No tittle shall remain unpaid.
+But such arrangements time require;
+We'll speak of them when next we meet;
+Most earnestly I now entreat,
+This once permission to retire.
+
+FAUST
+
+Another moment prithee here remain,
+Me with some happy word to pleasure.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now let me go! Ere long I'll come again;
+Then thou may'st question at thy leisure.
+
+FAUST
+
+'Twas not my purpose thee to lime;
+The snare hast entered of thine own free will:
+Let him who holds the devil, hold him still!
+So soon he'll catch him not a second time.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If it so please thee, I'm at thy command;
+Only on this condition, understand;
+That worthily thy leisure to beguile,
+I here may exercise my arts awhile.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou'rt free to do so! Gladly I'll attend;
+But be thine art a pleasant one!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ My friend,
+This hour enjoyment more intense
+Shall captivate each ravish'd sense,
+Than thou could'st compass in the bound
+Of the whole year's unvarying round;
+And what the dainty spirits sing,
+The lovely images they bring,
+Are no fantastic sorcery.
+Rich odors shall regale your smell,
+On choicest sweets your palate dwell,
+Your feelings thrill with ecstasy.
+No preparation do we need,
+Here we together are. Proceed.
+
+SPIRITS
+
+ Hence overshadowing gloom,
+ Vanish from sight!
+ O'er us thine azure dome,
+ Bend, beauteous light!
+ Dark clouds that o'er us spread,
+ Melt in thin air!
+ Stars, your soft radiance shed,
+ Tender and fair!
+ Girt with celestial might,
+ Winging their airy flight,
+ Spirits are thronging.
+ Follows their forms of light
+ Infinite longing!
+ Flutter their vestures bright
+ O'er field and grove!
+ Where in their leafy bower
+ Lovers the livelong hour
+ Vow deathless love.
+ Soft bloometh bud and bower!
+ Bloometh the grove!
+ Grapes from the spreading vine
+ Crown the full measure;
+ Fountains of foaming wine
+ Gush from the pressure.
+ Still where the currents wind,
+ Gems brightly gleam;
+ Leaving the hills behind
+ On rolls the stream;
+ Now into ample seas,
+
+ Spreadeth the flood--
+ Laving the sunny leas,
+ Mantled with wood.
+
+[Illustration: FAUST AND MEPHISTO Liezen-Mayer]
+
+ Rapture the feather'd throng,
+ Gaily careering,
+ Sip as they float along;
+ Sunward they're steering;
+ On toward the isles of light
+ Winging their way,
+ That on the waters bright
+ Dancingly play.
+ Hark to the choral strain,
+ Joyfully ringing!
+ While on the grassy plain
+ Dancers are springing;
+ Climbing the steep hill's side,
+ Skimming the glassy tide,
+ Wander they there;
+ Others on pinions wide
+ Wing the blue air;
+ All lifeward tending, upward still wending,
+ Toward yonder stars that gleam,
+ Far, far above;
+ Stars from whose tender beam
+ Rains blissful love.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Well done, my dainty spirits! now he slumbers!
+Ye have entranc'd him fairly with your numbers!
+This minstrelsy of yours I must repay.--
+Thou art not yet the man to hold the devil fast!--
+With fairest shapes your spells around him cast,
+And plunge him in a sea of dreams!
+But that this charm be rent, the threshold passed,
+Tooth of rat the way must clear.
+I need not conjure long it seems,
+One rustles hitherward, and soon my voice will hear.
+The master of the rats and mice,
+Of flies and frogs, of bugs and lice,
+Commands thy presence; without fear
+Come forth and gnaw the threshold here,
+Where he with oil has smear'd it.--Thou
+Com'st hopping forth already! Now
+To work! The point that holds me bound
+Is in the outer angle found.
+Another bite--so--now 'tis done--
+Now, Faustus, till we meet again, dream on.
+
+FAUST (_awaking_)
+
+Am I once more deluded! must I deem
+That thus the throng of spirits disappear?
+The devil's presence--was it but a dream?
+Hath but a poodle scap'd and left me here?
+
+
+STUDY
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+A knock? Come in! Who now would break my rest?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis I!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Come in!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Thrice be the words express'd.
+
+FAUST
+
+Then I repeat, Come in!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ 'Tis well,
+I hope that we shall soon agree!
+For now your fancies to expel,
+Here, as a youth of high degree,
+I come in gold-lac'd scarlet vest,
+And stiff-silk mantle richly dress'd,
+A cock's gay feather for a plume,
+A long and pointed rapier, too;
+And briefly I would counsel you
+To don at once the same costume,
+And, free from trammels, speed away,
+That what life is you may essay.
+
+FAUST
+
+In every garb I needs must feel oppress'd,
+My heart to earth's low cares a prey.
+Too old the trifler's part to play,
+Too young to live by no desire possess'd.
+What can the world to me afford?
+Renounce! renounce! is still the word;
+This is the everlasting song
+In every ear that ceaseless rings,
+And which, alas, our whole life long,
+Hoarsely each passing moment sings.
+But to new horror I awake each morn,
+And I could weep hot tears, to see the sun
+Dawn on another day, whose round forlorn
+Accomplishes no wish of mine--not one.
+Which still, with froward captiousness, impains
+E'en the presentiment of every joy,
+While low realities and paltry cares
+The spirit's fond imaginings destroy.
+Then must I too, when falls the veil of night,
+Stretch'd on my pallet languish in despair.
+Appalling dreams my soul affright;
+No rest vouchsafed me even there.
+The god, who throned within my breast resides,
+Deep in my soul can stir the springs;
+With sovereign sway my energies he guides,
+He cannot move external things;
+And so existence is to me a weight,
+Death fondly I desire, and life I hate.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And yet, methinks, by most 'twill be confess'd
+That Death is never quite a welcome guest.
+
+FAUST
+
+Happy the man around whose brow he binds
+The bloodstain'd wreath in conquest's dazzling hour;
+Or whom, excited by the dance, he finds
+Dissolv'd in bliss, in love's delicious bower!
+O that before the lofty spirit's might,
+Enraptured, I had rendered up my soul!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Yet did a certain man refrain one night
+Of its brown juice to drain the crystal bowl.
+
+FAUST
+
+To play the spy diverts you then?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I own,
+Though not omniscient, much to me is known.
+
+FAUST
+
+If o'er my soul the tone familiar, stealing,
+Drew me from harrowing thought's bewild'ring maze,
+Touching the ling'ring chords of childlike feeling,
+With the sweet harmonies of happier days:
+So curse I all, around the soul that windeth
+Its magic and alluring spell,
+And with delusive flattery bindeth
+Its victim to this dreary cell!
+Curs'd before all things be the high opinion
+Wherewith the spirit girds itself around!
+Of shows delusive curs'd be the dominion,
+Within whose mocking sphere our sense is bound!
+Accurs'd of dreams the treacherous wiles,
+The cheat of glory, deathless fame!
+Accurs'd what each as property beguiles,
+Wife, child, slave, plough, whate'er its name!
+Accurs'd be mammon, when with treasure
+He doth to daring deeds incite:
+Or when to steep the soul in pleasure,
+He spreads the couch of soft delight!
+Curs'd be the grape's balsamic juice!
+Accurs'd love's dream, of joys the first!
+Accurs'd be hope! accurs'd be faith!
+And more than all, be patience curs'd!
+
+CHORUS OF SPIRITS (_invisible_)
+
+ Woe! woe!
+ Thou hast destroy'd
+ The beautiful world
+ With violent blow;
+ 'Tis shiver'd! 'tis shatter'd!
+ The fragments abroad by a demigod scatter'd!
+ Now we sweep
+ The wrecks into nothingness!
+ Fondly we weep
+ The beauty that's gone!
+ Thou, 'mongst the sons of earth,
+ Lofty and mighty one,
+ Build it once more!
+ In thine own bosom the lost world restore!
+ Now with unclouded sense
+ Enter a new career;
+ Songs shall salute thine ear,
+ Ne'er heard before!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+My little ones these spirits be.
+Hark! with shrewd intelligence,
+How they recommend to thee
+Action, and the joys of sense!
+In the busy world to dwell,
+Fain they would allure thee hence
+For within this lonely cell,
+Stagnate sap of life and sense.
+Forbear to trifle longer with thy grief,
+Which, vulture-like, consumes thee in this den.
+The worst society is some relief,
+Making thee feel thyself a man with men.
+Nathless, it is not meant, I trow,
+To thrust thee 'mid the vulgar throng.
+I to the upper ranks do not belong;
+Yet if, by me companion'd, thou
+Thy steps through life forthwith wilt take,
+Upon the spot myself I'll make
+Thy comrade;--Should it suit thy need,
+I am thy servant, am thy slave indeed!
+
+FAUST
+
+And how must I thy services repay?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Thereto thou lengthen'd respite hast!
+
+FAUST
+ No! no!
+The devil is an egoist I know
+And, for Heaven's sake, 'tis not his way
+Kindness to any one to show.
+Let the condition plainly be exprest!
+Such a domestic is a dangerous guest.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'll pledge myself to be thy servant _here_,
+Still at thy back alert and prompt to be;
+But when together _yonder_ we appear,
+Then shalt thou do the same for me.
+
+FAUST
+
+But small concern I feel for yonder world;
+Hast thou this system into ruin hurl'd,
+Another may arise the void to fill.
+This earth the fountain whence my pleasures flow,
+This sun doth daily shine upon my woe,
+And if this world I must forego,
+Let happen then,--what can and will.
+I to this theme will close mine ears,
+If men hereafter hate and love,
+And if there be in yonder spheres
+A depth below or height above.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In this mood thou mayst venture it. But make
+The compact! I at once will undertake
+To charm thee with mine arts. I'll give thee more
+Than mortal eve hath e'er beheld before.
+
+FAUST
+
+What, sorry Devil, hast thou to bestow?
+Was ever mortal spirit, in its high endeavor,
+Fathom'd by Being such as thou?
+Yet food thou least which satisfieth never;
+Hast ruddy gold, that still doth flow
+Like restless quicksilver away;
+A game thou hast, at which none win who play--
+A girl who would, with amorous eyen,
+E'en from my breast a neighbor snare,
+Lofty ambition's joy divine,
+That, meteor-like, dissolves in air.
+Show me the fruit that, ere 'tis pluck'd, doth rot,
+And trees, whose verdure daily buds anew!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Such a commission scares me not;
+I can provide such treasures, it is true.
+But, my good friend, a season will come round
+When on what's good we may regale in peace.
+
+FAUST
+
+If e'er upon my couch, stretched at my ease, I'm found,
+Then may my life that instant cease!
+Me canst thou cheat with glozing wile
+Till self-reproach away I cast,--
+Me with joy's lure canst thou beguile;--
+Let that day be for me the last!
+Be this our wager!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Settled!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Sure and fast!
+When to the moment I shall say,
+"Linger awhile! so fair thou art!"
+Then mayst thou fetter me straightway,
+Then to the abyss will I depart!
+Then may the solemn death-bell sound,
+Then from thy service thou art free,
+The index then may cease its round,
+And time be never more for me!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I shall remember: pause, ere 'tis too late.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thereto a perfect right hast thou.
+My strength I do not rashly overrate.
+Slave am I here, at any rate,
+If thine, or whose, it matters not, I trow.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+At thine inaugural feast I will this day
+Attend, my duties to commence.--But one thing!--
+Accidents may happen, hence
+A line or two in writing grant, I pray.
+
+FAUST
+
+A writing, Pedant! dost demand from me?
+Man, and man's plighted word, are these unknown to thee?
+Is't not enough, that by the word I gave,
+My doom for evermore is cast?
+Doth not the world in all its currents rave,
+And must a promise hold me fast?
+Yet fixed is this delusion in our heart;
+Who, of his own free will, therefrom would part?
+How blest within whose breast truth reigneth pure!
+No sacrifice will he repent when made!
+A formal deed, with seal and signature,
+A spectre this from which all shrink afraid.
+The word its life resigneth in the pen,
+Leather and wax usurp the mastery then.
+Spirits of evil! what dost thou require?
+Brass, marble, parchment, paper, dost desire?
+Shall I with chisel, pen, or graver write?
+Thy choice is free; to me 'tis all the same.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Wherefore thy passion so excite,
+And thus thine eloquence inflame?
+A scrap is for our compact good.
+Thou under-signest merely with a drop of blood.
+
+FAUST
+
+If this will satisfy thy mind,
+Thy whim I'll gratify, howe'er absurd.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Blood is a juice of very special kind.
+
+FAUST
+
+Be not afraid that I shall break my word!
+The scope of all my energy
+Is in exact accordance with my vow.
+Vainly I have aspired too high;
+I'm on a level but with such as thou;
+Me the great spirit scorn'd, defied;
+Nature from me herself doth hide;
+Rent is the web of thought; my mind
+Doth knowledge loathe of every kind.
+In depths of sensual pleasure drown'd,
+Let us our fiery passions still!
+Enwrapp'd in magic's veil profound,
+Let wondrous charms our senses thrill!
+Plunge we in time's tempestuous flow,
+Stem we the rolling surge of chance!
+There may alternate weal and woe,
+Success and failure, as they can,
+Mingle and shift in changeful dance!
+Excitement is the sphere for man.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Nor goal, nor measure is prescrib'd to you,
+If you desire to taste of every thing,
+To snatch at joy while on the wing,
+May your career amuse and profit too!
+Only fall to and don't be over coy!
+
+FAUST
+
+Hearken! The end I aim at is not joy;
+I crave excitement, agonizing bliss,
+Enamor'd hatred, quickening vexation.
+Purg'd from the love of knowledge, my vocation,
+The scope of all my powers henceforth be this,
+To bare my breast to every pang,--to know
+In my heart's core all human weal and woe,
+To grasp in thought the lofty and the deep,
+Men's various fortunes on my breast to heap,
+And thus to theirs dilate my individual mind,
+And share at length with them the shipwreck of mankind.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh, credit me, who still as ages roll,
+Have chew'd this bitter fare from year to year,
+No mortal, from the cradle to the bier,
+Digests the ancient leaven! Know, this Whole
+Doth for the Deity alone subsist!
+He in eternal brightness doth exist;
+Us unto darkness he hath brought, and here,
+Where day and night alternate, is your sphere.
+
+FAUST
+
+But 'tis my will!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Well spoken, I admit!
+But one thing puzzles me, my friend;
+Time's short, art long; methinks 'twere fit
+That you to friendly counsel should attend.
+A poet choose as your ally!
+Let him thought's wide dominion sweep,
+Each good and noble quality
+Upon your honored brow to heap;
+The lion's magnanimity,
+The fleetness of the hind,
+The fiery blood of Italy,
+The Northern's stedfast mind.
+Let him to you the mystery show
+To blend high aims and cunning low;
+And while youth's passions are aflame
+To fall in love by rule and plan!
+I fain would meet with such a man;
+Would him Sir Microcosmus name.
+
+FAUST
+
+What then am I, if I aspire in vain
+The crown of our humanity to gain,
+Toward which my every sense doth strain?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Thou'rt after all--just what thou art.
+Put on thy head a wig with countless locks,
+And to a cubit's height upraise thy socks,
+Still thou remainest ever, what thou art.
+
+FAUST
+
+I feel it, I have heap'd upon my brain
+The gather'd treasure of man's thought in vain;
+And when at length from studious toil I rest,
+No power, new-born, springs up within my breast;
+A hair's breadth is not added to my height;
+I am no nearer to the infinite.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Good sir, these things you view indeed,
+Just as by other men they're view'd;
+We must more cleverly proceed,
+Before life's joys our grasp elude.
+The devil! thou hast hands and feet,
+And head and heart are also thine;
+What I enjoy with relish sweet--
+Is it on that account less mine?
+If for six stallions I can pay,
+Do I not own their strength and speed?
+A proper man I dash away,
+As their two dozen legs were mine indeed.
+Up then, from idle pondering free,
+And forth into the world with me!
+I tell you what;--your speculative churl
+Is like a beast which some ill spirit leads,
+On barren wilderness, in ceaseless whirl,
+While all around lie fair and verdant meads.
+
+FAUST
+
+But how shall we begin?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+ We will go hence with speed,
+A place of torment this indeed!
+A precious life, thyself to bore,
+And some few youngsters evermore!
+Leave that to neighbor Paunch! Withdraw?
+Why wilt thou plague thyself with thrashing straw?
+The very best that thou dost know
+Thou dar'st not to the striplings show.
+One in the passage now doth wait!
+
+FAUST
+
+I'm in no mood to see him now.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Poor lad! He must be tired, I trow;
+He must not go disconsolate.
+Hand me thy cap and gown; the mask
+Is for my purpose quite first rate.
+
+[_He changes his dress._]
+
+Now leave it to my wit! I ask
+But quarter of an hour; meanwhile equip,
+And make all ready for our pleasant trip!
+
+[_Exit_ FAUST.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_in_ FAUST'S _long gown_)
+
+Mortal! the loftiest attributes of men,
+Reason and Knowledge, only thus contemn;
+Still let the Prince of lies, without control,
+With shows, and mocking charms delude thy soul,
+I have thee unconditionally then!--
+Fate hath endow'd him with an ardent mind,
+Which unrestrain'd still presses on forever,
+And whose precipitate endeavor
+Earth's joys o'erleaping, leaveth them behind.
+Him will I drag through life's wild waste,
+Through scenes of vapid dulness, where at last
+Bewilder'd, he shall falter, and stick fast;
+And, still to mock his greedy haste,
+Viands and drink shall float his craving lips beyond--
+Vainly he'll seek refreshment, anguish-tost,
+And were he not the devil's by his bond,
+Yet must his soul infallibly be lost!
+
+A STUDENT _enters_.
+
+STUDENT
+
+But recently I've quitted home,
+Full of devotion am I come
+A man to know and hear, whose name
+With reverence is known to fame.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Your courtesy much flatters me!
+A man like other men you see;
+Pray have you yet applied elsewhere?
+
+STUDENT
+
+I would entreat your friendly care!
+I've youthful blood and courage high;
+Of gold I bring a fair supply;
+To let me go my mother was not fain;
+But here I longed true knowledge to attain.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You've hit upon the very place.
+
+STUDENT
+
+And yet my steps I would retrace.
+These walls, this melancholy room,
+O'erpower me with a sense of gloom;
+The space is narrow, nothing green,
+No friendly tree is to be seen
+And in these halls, with benches filled, distraught,
+Sight, hearing fail me, and the power of thought.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+It all depends on habit. Thus at first
+The infant takes not kindly to the breast,
+But before long, its eager thirst
+Is fain to slake with hearty zest:
+Thus at the breasts of wisdom day by day
+With keener relish you'll your thirst allay.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Upon her neck I fain would hang with joy;
+To reach it, say, what means must I employ?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Explain, ere further time we lose,
+What special faculty you choose?
+
+STUDENT
+
+Profoundly learned I would grow,
+What heaven contains would comprehend,
+O'er earth's wide realm my gaze extend,
+Nature and science I desire to know.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You are upon the proper track, I find;
+Take heed, let nothing dissipate your mind.
+
+STUDENT
+
+My heart and soul are in the chase!
+Though, to be sure, I fain would seize,
+On pleasant summer holidays,
+A little liberty and careless ease.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Use well your time, so rapidly it flies;
+Method will teach you time to win;
+Hence, my young friend, I would advise,
+With college logic to begin!
+Then will your mind be so well braced,
+In Spanish boots so tightly laced,
+That on 'twill circumspectly creep,
+Thought's beaten track securely keep,
+Nor will it, ignis-fatuus like,
+Into the path of error strike.
+Then many a day they'll teach you how
+The mind's spontaneous acts, till now
+As eating and as drinking free,
+Require a process;--one! two! three!
+In truth the subtle web of thought
+Is like the weaver's fabric wrought:
+One treadle moves a thousand lines,
+Swift dart the shuttles to and fro,
+Unseen the threads together flow,
+A thousand knots one stroke combines.
+Then forward steps your sage to show,
+And prove to you, it must be so;
+The first being so, and so the second,
+The third and fourth deduc'd we see;
+And if there were no first and second,
+Nor third nor fourth would ever be.
+This, scholars of all countries prize,--
+Yet 'mong themselves no weavers rise.
+He who would know and treat of aught alive,
+Seeks first the living spirit thence to drive:
+Then are the lifeless fragments in his hand,
+There only fails, alas! the spirit-band.
+This process, chemists name, in learned thesis,
+Mocking themselves, _Naturæ encheiresis_.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Your words I cannot fully comprehend.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In a short time you will improve, my friend,
+When of scholastic forms you learn the use;
+And how by method all things to reduce.
+
+STUDENT
+
+So doth all this my brain confound,
+As if a mill-wheel there were turning round.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And next, before aught else you learn,
+You must with zeal to metaphysics turn!
+There see that you profoundly comprehend
+What doth the limit of man's brain transcend;
+For that which is or is not in the head
+A sounding phrase will serve you in good stead.
+But before all strive this half year
+From one fix'd order ne'er to swerve!
+Five lectures daily you must hear;
+The hour still punctually observe!
+Yourself with studious zeal prepare,
+And closely in your manual look,
+Hereby may you be quite aware
+That all he utters standeth in the book;
+Yet write away without cessation,
+As at the Holy Ghost's dictation!
+
+STUDENT
+
+This, Sir, a second time you need not say!
+Your counsel I appreciate quite;
+What we possess in black and white
+We can in peace and comfort bear away.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A faculty I pray you name.
+
+STUDENT
+
+For jurisprudence some distaste I own.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+To me this branch of science is well known,
+And hence I cannot your repugnance blame.
+Customs and laws in every place,
+Like a disease, and heir-loom dread,
+Still trail their curse from race to race,
+And furtively abroad they spread.
+To nonsense, reason's self they turn;
+Beneficence becomes a pest;
+Woe unto thee, that thou'rt a grandson born!
+As for the law born with us, unexpressed;--
+That law, alas, none careth to discern.
+
+STUDENT
+
+You deepen my dislike. The youth
+Whom you instruct, is blest in sooth!
+To try theology I feel inclined.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I would not lead you willingly astray,
+But as regards this science, you will find
+So hard it is to shun the erring way,
+And so much hidden poison lies therein
+Which scarce can you discern from medicine.
+Here too it is the best, to listen but to one,
+And by the master's words to swear alone.
+To sum up all--To words hold fast!
+Then the safe gate securely pass'd,
+You'll reach the fane of certainty at last.
+
+STUDENT
+
+But then some meaning must the words convey.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Right! But o'er-anxious thought you'll find of no avail;
+For there precisely where ideas fail,
+A word comes opportunely into play;
+Most admirable weapons words are found,
+On words a system we securely ground,
+In words we can conveniently believe,
+Nor of a single jot can we a word bereave.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Your pardon for my importunity;
+Yet once more must I trouble you:
+On medicine, I'll thank you to supply
+A pregnant utterance or two!
+Three years! how brief the appointed tide!
+The field, heaven knows, is all too wide!
+If but a friendly hint be thrown,
+'Tis easier than to feel one's way.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+I'm weary of the dry pedantic tone,
+And must again the genuine devil play.
+
+(_Aloud_)
+
+Of medicine the spirit's caught with ease,
+The great and little world you study through,
+That things may then their course pursue,
+As heaven may please.
+In vain abroad you range through science's ample space,
+Each man learns only that which learn he can;
+Who knows the moment to embrace,
+He is your proper man.
+In person you are tolerably made,
+Nor in assurance will you be deficient:
+Self-confidence acquire, be not afraid,
+Others will then esteem you a proficient.
+Learn chiefly with the sex to deal!
+Their thousand ahs and ohs,
+These the sage doctor knows,
+He only from one point can heal.
+Assume a decent tone of courteous ease,
+You have them then to humor as you please.
+First a diploma must belief infuse,
+That you in your profession take the lead:
+You then at once those easy freedoms use
+For which another many a year must plead;
+Learn how to feel with nice address
+The dainty wrist;--and how to press,
+With ardent, furtive glance, the slender waist,
+To feel how tightly it is laced.
+
+STUDENT
+
+There is some sense in that! one sees the how and why.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gray is, young friend, all theory:
+And green of life the golden tree.
+
+STUDENT
+
+I swear it seemeth like a dream to me.
+May I some future time repeat my visit,
+To hear on what your wisdom grounds your views?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Command my humble service when you choose.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Ere I retire, one boon I must solicit:
+Here is my album; do not, Sir, deny
+This token of your favor!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Willingly!
+
+[_He writes and returns the book._]
+
+STUDENT (_reads_)
+
+ ERITIS SICUT DEUS, SCIENTES BONUM ET MALUM
+
+[_He reverently closes the book and retires._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Let but this ancient proverb be your rule,
+My cousin follow still, the wily snake,
+And with your likeness to the gods, poor fool,
+Ere long be sure your poor sick heart will quake!
+
+FAUST (_enters_)
+
+Whither away?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ 'Tis thine our course to steer.
+The little world, and then the great we'll view.
+With what delight, what profit too,
+Thou'lt revel through thy gay career!
+
+FAUST
+
+Despite my length of beard I need
+The easy manners that insure success;
+Th' attempt I fear can ne'er succeed;
+To mingle in the world I want address;
+I still have an embarrass'd air, and then
+I feel myself so small with other men.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Time, my good friend, will all that's needful give;
+Be only self-possessed, and thou hast learn'd to live.
+
+FAUST
+
+But how are we to start, I pray?
+Steeds, servants, carriage, where are they?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We've but to spread this mantle wide,
+'Twill serve whereon through air to ride;
+No heavy baggage need you take,
+When we our bold excursion make.
+A little gas, which I will soon prepare,
+Lifts us from earth; aloft through air,
+Light-laden, we shall swiftly steer;--
+I wish you joy of your new life-career.
+
+
+AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG
+
+_A Drinking Party_
+
+FROSCH
+
+No drinking? Naught a laugh to raise?
+None of your gloomy looks, I pray!
+You, who so bright were wont to blaze,
+Are dull as wetted straw today.
+
+BRANDER
+
+'Tis all your fault; your part you do not bear,
+No beastliness, no folly.
+
+FROSCH (_pours a glass of wine over his head_)
+
+ There,
+You have them both!
+
+BRANDER
+
+ You double beast!
+
+FROSCH
+
+'Tis what you ask'd me for, at least!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Whoever quarrels, turn him out!
+With open throat drink, roar, and shout.
+Hollo! Hollo! Ho!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Zounds, fellow, cease your deaf'ning cheers!
+Bring cotton-wool! He splits my ears.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+'Tis when the roof rings back the tone,
+Then first the full power of the bass is known.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Right! out with him who takes offence!
+A! tara lara da!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+A! tara lara da!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Our throats are tuned. Come, let's commence!
+
+(_Sings_)
+
+ The holy Roman empire now,
+ How holds it still together?
+
+BRANDER
+
+An ugly song! a song political!
+A song offensive! Thank God, every morn,
+To rule the Roman empire that you were not born!
+I bless my stars at least that mine is not
+Either a kaiser's or a chancellor's lot.
+Yet, 'among ourselves, should one still lord it o'er the rest;
+That we elect a pope I now suggest.
+Ye know what quality insures
+A man's success, his rise secures.
+
+FROSCH (_sings_)
+
+ Bear, lady nightingale above,
+ Ten thousand greetings to my love.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+No greetings to a sweetheart! No love-songs shall there be!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Love-greetings and love-kisses! Thou shalt not hinder me!
+
+(_Sings_)
+
+ Undo the bolt! in stilly night,
+ Undo the bolt! the lover wakes.
+ Shut to the bolt! when morning breaks.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Ay, sing, sing on, praise her with all thy might!
+My turn to laugh will come some day.
+Me hath she jilted once, you the same trick she'll play.
+Some gnome her lover be! where cross-roads meet,
+With her to play the fool; or old he-goat,
+From Blocksberg coming in swift gallop, bleat
+A good night to her from his hairy throat!
+A proper lad of genuine flesh and blood,
+Is for the damsel far too good;
+The greeting she shall have from me,
+To smash her window-panes will be!
+
+BRANDER (_striking on the table_)
+
+Silence! Attend! to me give ear!
+Confess, sirs, I know how to live:
+Some love-sick folk are sitting here!
+Hence, 'tis but fit, their hearts to cheer,
+That I a good-night strain to them should give.
+Hark! of the newest fashion is my song!
+Strike boldly in the chorus, clear and strong!
+
+(_He sings_)
+
+ Once in a cellar lived a rat,
+ He feasted there on butter,
+ Until his paunch became as fat
+ As that of Doctor Luther.
+ The cook laid poison for the guest,
+ Then was his heart with pangs oppress'd,
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+CHORUS (_shouting_)
+
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+BRANDER
+
+ He ran around, he ran abroad,
+ Of every puddle drinking.
+ The house with rage he scratch'd and gnaw'd,
+ In vain,--he fast was sinking;
+ Full many an anguish'd bound he gave,
+ Nothing the hapless brute could save,
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+BRANDER
+
+ By torture driven, in open day,
+ The kitchen he invaded,
+ Convulsed upon the hearth he lay,
+ With anguish sorely jaded;
+ The poisoner laugh'd; Ha! ha! quoth she,
+ His life is ebbing fast, I see,
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+How the dull boors exulting shout!
+Poison for the poor rats to strew
+A fine exploit it is no doubt.
+
+BRANDER
+
+They, as it seems, stand well with you!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Old bald-pate! with the paunch profound!
+The rat's mishap hath tamed his nature;
+For he his counterpart hath found
+Depicted in the swollen creature.
+
+FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I now must introduce to you
+Before aught else, this jovial crew,
+To show how lightly life may glide away;
+With the folk here each day's a holiday.
+With little wit and much content,
+Each on his own small round intent,
+Like sportive kitten with its tail;
+While no sick-headache they bewail,
+And while their host will credit give,
+Joyous and free from care they live.
+
+BRANDER
+
+They're off a journey, that is clear,--
+From their strange manners; they have scarce been here
+An hour.
+
+FROSCH
+
+ You're right! Leipzig's the place for me!
+'Tis quite a little Paris; people there
+Acquire a certain easy, finish'd air.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What take you now these travelers to be?
+
+FROSCH
+
+Let me alone! O'er a full glass you'll see,
+As easily I'll worm their secret out
+As draw an infant's tooth. I've not a doubt
+That my two gentlemen are nobly born;
+They look dissatisfied and full of scorn.
+
+BRANDER
+
+They are but mountebanks, I'll lay a bet!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Most like.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Mark me, I'll screw it from them yet!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+These fellows would not scent the devil out,
+E'en though he had them by the very throat!
+
+FAUST
+
+Good-morrow, gentlemen!
+
+STEBEL
+
+ Thanks for your fair salute.
+
+[_Aside, glancing at_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]
+
+How! goes the fellow on a halting foot?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Is it permitted here with you to sit?
+Then, though good wine is not forthcoming here,
+Good company at least our hearts will cheer.
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+A dainty gentleman, no doubt of it!
+
+FROSCH
+
+You're doubtless recently from Rippach? Pray,
+Did you with Master Hans there chance to sup?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Today we pass'd him, but we did not stop!
+When last we met him he had much to say
+Touching his cousins, and to each he sent
+Full many a greeting and kind compliment.
+
+[_With an inclination toward_ FROSCH.]
+
+
+ALTMAYER (_aside to_ Frosch)
+
+You have it there!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+ Faith! he's a knowing one!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Have patience! I will show him up anon!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We heard erewhile, unless I'm wrong,
+Voices well trained in chorus pealing?
+Certes, most choicely here must song
+Re-echo from this vaulted ceiling!
+
+FROSCH
+
+That you're an amateur one plainly sees!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh no, though strong the love, I cannot boast much skill.
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Give us a song!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ As many as you will.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+But be it a brand new one, if you please!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+But recently returned from Spain are we,
+The pleasant land of wine and minstrelsy.
+
+(_Sings_)
+
+  A king there was once reigning,
+  Who had a goodly flea--
+
+FROSCH
+
+Hark! did you rightly catch the words? a flea!
+An odd sort of a guest he needs must be.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_sings_)
+
+ A king there was once reigning,
+ Who had a goodly flea,
+ Him loved he without feigning,
+ As his own son were he!
+ His tailor then he summon'd--
+ The tailor to him goes:
+ Now measure me the youngster
+ For jerkin and for hose!
+
+BRANDER
+
+Take proper heed, the tailor strictly charge,
+The nicest measurement to take,
+And as he loves his head, to make
+The hose quite smooth and not too large!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In satin and in velvet,
+Behold the younker dressed:
+Bedizen'd o'er with ribbons,
+A cross upon his breast.
+Prime minister they made him;
+He wore a star of state;
+And all his poor relations
+Were courtiers, rich and great.
+
+The gentlemen and ladies
+At court were sore distressed;
+The queen and all her maidens
+Were bitten by the pest,
+And yet they dared not scratch them
+Or chase the fleas away.
+If we are bit, we catch them,
+And crack without delay.
+
+CHORUS _(shouting)_
+
+If we are bit, etc.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Bravo! That's the song for me!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Such be the fate of every flea!
+
+BRANDER
+
+With clever finger catch and kill!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Hurrah for wine and freedom still!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Were but your wine a trifle better, friend,
+A glass to freedom I would gladly drain.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+You'd better not repeat those words again!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I am afraid the landlord to offend;
+Else freely would I treat each worthy guest
+From our own cellar to the very best.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Out with it then! Your doings I'll defend.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Give a good glass, and straight we'll praise you, one and all.
+Only let not your samples be too small;
+For if my judgment you desire,
+Certes, an ample mouthful I require.
+
+ALTMAYER _(aside)_
+
+I guess, they're from the Rhenish land.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Fetch me a gimlet here!
+
+BRANDER
+
+Say, what therewith to bore?
+You cannot have the wine-casks at the door?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Our landlord's tool-basket behind doth yonder stand.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES _(takes the gimlet_)
+_(To_ FROSCH)
+
+Now only say! what liquor will you take?
+
+FROSCH
+
+How mean you that? Have you of every sort?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Each may his own selection make.
+
+ALTMAYER (_to_ FROSCH)
+
+Ha! Ha! You lick your lips already at the thought.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Good, if I have my choice, the Rhenish I propose;
+For still the fairest gifts the fatherland bestows.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_boring a hole in the edge of the table_
+_opposite to where_ FROSCH _is sitting_)
+
+Get me a little wax--and make some stoppers--quick!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Why, this is nothing but a juggler's trick!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ BRANDER)
+
+And you?
+
+BRANDER
+
+ Champagne's the wine for me;
+Right brisk, and sparkling let it be!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _bores, one of the party has in the
+meantime prepared the, wax-stoppers and stopped
+the holes_.]
+
+BRANDER
+
+What foreign is one always can't decline,
+What's good is often scatter'd far apart.
+The French your genuine German hates with all his heart,
+Yet has a relish for their wine.
+
+SIEBEL (_as_ MEPHISTOPHELES _approaches him_)
+
+I like not acid wine, I must allow,
+Give me a glass of genuine sweet!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_bores_)
+
+ Tokay
+Shall, if you wish it, flow without delay.
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Come! look me in the face! no fooling now!
+You are but making fun of us, I trow.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ah! ah! that would indeed be making free
+With such distinguished guests. Come, no delay;
+What liquor can I serve you with, I pray?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Only be quick, it matters not to me.
+
+_[After the holes are all bored and, stopped.]_
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_with strange gestures_)
+
+Grapes the vine-stock bears,
+Horns the buck-goat wears!
+Wine is sap, the vine is wood,
+The wooden board yields wine as good.
+With a deeper glance and true
+The mysteries of nature view!
+Have faith and here's a miracle!
+Your stoppers draw and drink your fill!
+
+ALL (_as they draw the stoppers and the wine chosen by
+each runs into his glass_)
+
+Oh beauteous spring, which flows so far!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Spill not a single drop, of this beware!
+
+[_They drink repeatedly_.]
+
+ALL _(sing)_
+
+Happy as cannibals are we,
+Or as five hundred swine.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+They're in their glory, mark their elevation!
+
+FAUST
+
+Let's hence, nor here our stay prolong.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Attend, of brutishness ere long
+You'll see a glorious revelation.
+
+SIEBEL _(drinks carelessly; the wine is spilt upon the ground,
+and turns to fame)_
+
+Help! fire! help! Hell is burning!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_addressing the flames_)
+
+Stop,
+Kind element, be still, I say!
+(_To the Company_)
+Of purgatorial fire as yet 'tis but a drop.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What means the knave! For this you'll dearly pay!
+Us, it appears, you do not know.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Such tricks a second time he'd better show!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Methinks 'twere well we pack'd him quietly away.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What, sir! with us your hocus-pocus play!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Silence, old wine-cask!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+How! add insult, too!
+Vile broomstick!
+
+BRANDER
+
+Hold! or blows shall rain on you!
+
+ALTMAYER (_draws a stopper out of the table; fire springs
+out against him_)
+I burn! I burn!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+'Tis sorcery, I vow!
+Strike home! The fellow is fair game, I trow!
+[_They draw their knives and attack_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_with solemn gestures_)
+
+Visionary scenes appear!
+Words delusive cheat the ear!
+Be ye there, and be ye here!
+[_They stand amazed and gale at one another._]
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Where am I? What a beauteous land!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Vineyards! unless my sight deceives?
+
+SIEBEL
+
+And clust'ring grapes too, close at hand!
+
+BRANDER
+
+And underneath the spreading leaves,
+What stems there be! What grapes I see!
+
+[_He seizes_ SIEBEL _by the nose. The others reciprocally
+do the same, and raise, their knives._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_as above_)
+
+Delusion, from their eyes the bandage take!
+Note how the devil loves a jest to break!
+
+[_He disappears with_ FAUST; _the fellows draw back
+from one another._]
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What was it?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+How?
+
+FROSCH
+
+Was that your nose?
+
+BRANDER (_to_ SIEBEL)
+
+And look, my hand doth thine inclose!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+I felt a shock, it went through every limb!
+A chair! I'm fainting! All things swim!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Say! What has happened? What's it all about?
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Where is the fellow? Could I scent him out,
+His body from his soul I'd soon divide!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+With my own eyes, upon a cask astride,
+Forth through the cellar-door I saw him ride--
+Heavy as lead my feet are growing.
+
+[_Turning to the table._]
+
+I wonder is the wine still flowing!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+'Twas all delusion, cheat and lie.
+
+FROSCH
+
+'Twas wine I drank, most certainly.
+
+BRANDER
+
+But with the grapes how was it, pray?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+That none may miracles believe, who now will say?
+
+WITCHES' KITCHEN
+
+_A large caldron hangs over the fire on a low hearth; various figures
+appear in the vapor rising from it. A_ FEMALE MONKEY _sits beside
+the  caldron to skim it, and watch that it does not boil over. The_
+MALE MONKEY _with the young ones is seated near, warming himself.
+The walls and ceiling are adorned with the strangest articles of
+witch-furniture.
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+This senseless, juggling witchcraft I detest!
+Dost promise that in this foul nest
+Of madness I shall be restored?
+Must I seek counsel from an ancient dame?
+And can she, by these rites abhorred,
+Take thirty winters from my frame?
+Woe's me, if thou naught better canst suggest!
+Hope has already fled my breast.
+Has neither nature nor a noble mind
+A balsam yet devis'd of any kind?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+My friend, you now speak sensibly. In truth,
+Nature a method giveth to renew thy youth:
+But in another book the lesson's writ;--
+It forms a curious chapter, I admit.
+
+FAUST
+
+I fain would know it.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Good! A remedy
+Without physician, gold, or sorcery:
+Away forthwith, and to the fields repair;
+Begin to delve, to cultivate the ground;
+Thy senses and thyself confine
+Within the very narrowest round;
+Support thyself upon the simplest fare;
+Live like a very brute the brutes among;
+Neither esteem it robbery
+The acre thou dost reap, thyself to dung.
+This the best method, credit me,
+Again at eighty to grow hale and young.
+
+FAUST
+
+I am not used to it, nor can myself degrade
+So far, as in my hand to take the spade.
+This narrow life would suit me not at all.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Then we the witch must summon after all.
+
+FAUST
+
+Will none but this old beldame do?
+Canst not thyself the potion brew?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A pretty play our leisure to beguile!
+A thousand bridges I could build meanwhile.
+Not science only and consummate art--
+Patience must also bear her part.
+A quiet spirit worketh whole years long;
+Time only makes the subtle ferment strong.
+And all things that belong thereto,
+Are wondrous and exceeding rare!
+The devil taught her, it is true;
+But yet the draught the devil can't prepare.
+
+[_Perceiving the beasts_.]
+
+Look yonder, what a dainty pair!
+Here is the maid! the knave is there!
+
+(_To the beasts_)
+
+It seems your dame is not at home?
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+Gone to carouse,
+Out of the house,
+Thro' the chimney and away!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+How long is it her wont to roam?
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+While we can warm our paws she'll stay.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+What think you of the charming creatures?
+
+FAUST
+
+I loathe alike their form and features!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Nay, such discourse, be it confessed,
+Is just the thing that pleases me the best.
+(_To the_ MONKEYS)
+Tell me, ye whelps, accursed crew!
+What stir ye in the broth about?
+
+MONKEYS
+
+Coarse beggar's gruel here we stew.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of customers you'll have a rout.
+
+THE HE-MONKEY (_approaching and fawning on_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+Quick! quick! throw the dice,
+Make me rich in a trice,
+Oh give me the prize!
+Alas, for myself,
+Had I plenty of pelf,
+I then should be wise.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+How blest the ape would think himself, if he
+Could only put into the lottery!
+
+[_In the meantime the young_ MONKEYS _have been playing
+with a large globe, which they roll forward._]
+
+THE HE-MONKEY
+
+The world behold;
+Unceasingly roll'd,
+It riseth and falleth ever;
+It ringeth like glass!
+How brittle, alas!
+'Tis hollow, and resteth never.
+How bright the sphere,
+Still brighter here!
+Now living am I!
+Dear son, beware!
+Nor venture there!
+Thou too must die!
+It is of clay;
+'Twill crumble away;
+There fragments lie.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of what use is the sieve
+
+THE HE-MONKEY (_taking it down_)
+
+The sieve would show,
+If thou wert a thief or no?
+[_He runs to the_ SHE-MONKEY, _and makes her look through it._]
+
+Look through the sieve!
+Dost know him the thief,
+And dar'st thou not call him so?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_approaching the fire_)
+
+And then this pot?
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+The half-witted sot!
+He knows not the pot!
+He knows not the kettle!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Unmannerly beast!
+Be civil at least!
+
+THE HE-MONKEY
+
+Take the whisk and sit down in the settle!
+
+[_He makes_ MEPHISTOPHELES _sit down._]
+
+FAUST (_who all this time has been standing before a looking-glass,
+now approaching, and now retiring front it_)
+
+What do I see? What form, whose charms transcend
+The loveliness of earth, is mirror'd here!
+O Love, to waft me to her sphere,
+To me the swiftest of thy pinions lend!
+Alas! If I remain not rooted to this place,
+If to approach more near I'm fondly lur'd,
+Her image fades, in veiling mist obscur'd!--
+Model of beauty both in form and face!
+Is't possible? Hath woman charms so rare?
+In this recumbent form, supremely fair,
+The essence must I see of heavenly grace?
+Can aught so exquisite on earth be found?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The six days' labor of a god, my friend,
+Who doth himself cry bravo, at the end,
+By something clever doubtless should be crown'd.
+For this time gaze your fill, and when you please
+just such a prize for you I can provide;
+How blest is he to whom kind fate decrees,
+To take her to his home, a lovely bride!
+
+[FAUST _continues to gaze into the mirror._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+[_stretching himself on the settle and playing
+with the whisk, continues to speak._]
+
+Here sit I, like a king upon his throne;
+My sceptre this;--the crown I want alone.
+
+THE MONKEYS (_who have hitherto been making all sorts of
+strange gestures, bring_ MEPHISTOPHELES _a crown, with
+loud cries)
+
+Oh, be so good,
+With sweat and with blood
+The crown to lime!
+
+[_They handle the crown awkwardly and break it in two
+pieces, with which they skip about._]
+
+'Twas fate's decree!
+We speak and see!
+We hear and rhyme.
+
+FAUST (_before the mirror_)
+
+Woe's me! well-nigh distraught I feel!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_pointing to the beasts_)
+
+And even my own head almost begins to reel.
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+If good luck attend,
+If fitly things blend,
+Our jargon with thought
+And with reason is fraught!
+
+FAUST (_as above_)
+
+A flame is kindled in my breast!
+Let us begone! nor linger here!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_in the same position_)
+
+It now at least must be confessed,
+That poets sometimes are sincere.
+
+[_The caldron which the_ SHE-MONKEY _has neglected begins
+to boil over; a great flame arises, which streams up the
+chimney. The_ WITCH _comes down the chimney with
+horrible cries._]
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Ough! ough! ough! ough!
+Accursed brute! accursed sow!
+The caldron dost neglect, for shame!
+Accursed brute to scorch the dame!
+
+(_Perceiving_ FAUST _and_
+MEPHISTOPHELES._)
+
+Whom have we here?
+Who's sneaking here?
+Whence are ye come?
+With what desire?
+The plague of fire
+Your bones consume!
+
+[_She dips the skimming-ladle into the caldron and throws
+flames at_ FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, _and the_ MONKEYS.
+_The_ MONKEYS _whimper._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_twirling the whisk which he holds in his
+hand, and striking among the glasses and pots_)
+
+Dash! Smash!
+There lies the glass!
+There lies the slime!
+'Tis but a jest;
+I but keep time,
+Thou hellish pest,
+To thine own chime!
+[_While the_ WITCH _steps back in rage and astonishment_.]
+Dost know me! Skeleton! Vile scarecrow, thou!
+Thy lord and master dost thou know?
+What holds me, that I deal not now
+Thee and thine apes a stunning blow?
+No more respect to my red vest dost pay?
+Does my cock's feather no allegiance claim?
+Have I my visage masked today?
+Must I be forced myself to name?
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Master, forgive this rude salute!
+But I perceive no cloven foot.
+And your two ravens, where are they?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+This once I must admit your plea;--
+For truly I must own that we
+Each other have not seen for many a day.
+The culture, too, that shapes the world, at last
+Hath e'en the devil in its sphere embraced;
+The northern phantom from the scene hath pass'd;
+Tail, talons, horns, are nowhere to be traced!
+As for the foot, with which I can't dispense,
+'Twould injure me in company, and hence,
+Like many a youthful cavalier,
+False calves I now have worn for many a year.
+
+THE WITCH (_dancing_)
+
+I am beside myself with joy,
+To see once more the gallant Satan here!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Woman, no more that name employ!
+
+THE WITCH
+
+But why? what mischief hath it done?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+To fable-books it now doth appertain;
+But people from the change have nothing won.
+Rid of the evil one, the evil ones remain.
+Lord Baron call thou me, so is the matter good;
+Of other cavaliers the mien I wear.
+Dost make no question of my gentle blood;
+See here, this is the scutcheon that I bear!
+
+[_He makes an unseemly gesture._]
+
+THE WITCH (_laughing immoderately_)
+
+Ha! Ha! Just like yourself! You are, I ween,
+The same mad wag that you have ever been!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+My friend, learn this to understand, I pray!
+To deal with witches this is still the way.
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Now tell me, gentlemen, what you desire?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of your known juice a goblet we require.
+But for the very oldest let me ask;
+Double its strength with years doth grow.
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Most willingly! And here I have a flask,
+From which I've sipp'd myself ere now;
+What's more, it doth no longer stink;
+To you a glass I joyfully will give.
+
+(_Aside._)
+
+If unprepar'd, however, this man drink,
+He hath not, as you know, an hour to live.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+He's my good friend, with whom 'twill prosper well;
+I grudge him not the choicest of thy store.
+Now draw thy circle, speak thy spell,
+And straight a bumper for him pour!
+
+[_The_ WITCH, _with extraordinary gestures, describes a
+circle, and places strange things within it. The
+glasses meanwhile begin to ring, and the caldron
+to sound and make music. Lastly, she brings a
+great book; places the_ MONKEYS _in the circle to
+serve her as a desk, and to hold the torches. She
+beckons_ FAUST _to approach._]
+
+FAUST (_to_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+Tell me, to what doth all this tend?
+Where will these frantic gestures end?
+This loathsome cheat, this senseless stuff
+I've known and hated long enough.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Mere mummery, a laugh to raise!
+Pray don't be so fastidious! She
+But as a leech, her hocus-pocus plays,
+That well with you her potion may agree.
+[_He compels_ FAUST _to enter the circle._]
+
+[_The,_ WITCH, _with great emphasis, begins to declaim from
+the book._]
+
+This must thou ken:
+Of one make ten,
+Pass two, and then
+Make square the three,
+So rich thou'lt be.
+Drop out the four!
+From five and six,
+Thus says the witch,
+Make seven and eight.
+So all is straight!
+And nine is one,
+And ten is none,
+This is the witch's one-time-one!
+
+FAUST
+
+The hag doth as in fever rave.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+To these will follow many a stave.
+I know it well, so rings the book throughout;
+Much time I've lost in puzzling o'er its pages,
+For downright paradox, no doubt,
+A mystery remains alike to fools and sages.
+Ancient the art and modern too, my friend.
+'Tis still the fashion as it used to be,
+Error instead of truth abroad to send
+By means of three and one, and one and three.
+'Tis ever taught and babbled in the schools.
+Who'd take the trouble to dispute with fools?
+When words men hear, in sooth, they usually believe,
+That there must needs therein be something to conceive.
+
+THE WITCH (_continues_)
+
+ The lofty power
+ Of wisdom's dower,
+ From all the world conceal'd!
+ Who thinketh not,
+ To him I wot,
+ Unsought it is reveal'd.
+
+FAUST
+
+What nonsense doth the hag propound?
+My brain it doth well-nigh confound.
+A hundred thousand fools or more,
+Methinks I hear in chorus roar.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Incomparable Sibyl cease, I pray!
+Hand us thy liquor without more delay.
+And to the very brim the goblet crown!
+My friend he is, and need not be afraid;
+Besides, he is a man of many a grade,
+Who hath drunk deep already.
+
+[_The_ WITCH, _with many ceremonies, pours the liquor
+into a cup; as_ FAUST _lifts it to his mouth, a light
+flame arises._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gulp it down!
+No hesitation! It will prove
+A cordial, and your heart inspire!
+What! with the devil hand and glove,
+And yet shrink back afraid of fire?
+[_The_ WITCH _dissolves the circle._ FAUST _steps out._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now forth at once! thou dar'st not rest.
+
+WITCH
+
+And much, sir, may the liquor profit you!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to the_ WITCH)
+
+And if to pleasure thee I aught can do,
+Pray on Walpurgis mention thy request.
+
+WITCH
+
+Here is a song, sung o'er, sometimes you'll see,
+That 'twill a singular effect produce.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Come, quick, and let thyself be led by me;
+Thou must perspire, in order that the juice
+Thy frame may penetrate through every part.
+Then noble idleness I thee will teach to prize,
+And soon with ecstasy thou'lt recognize
+How Cupid stirs and gambols in thy heart.
+
+FAUST
+
+Let me but gaze one moment in the glass!
+Too lovely was that female form!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Nay! nay!
+A model which all women shall surpass,
+In flesh and blood ere long thou shalt survey.
+(_Aside._)
+As works the draught, thou presently shalt greet
+A Helen in each woman thou dost meet.
+
+A STREET
+
+FAUST (MARGARET _passing by_).
+
+FAUST
+
+Fair lady, may I thus make free
+To offer you my arm and company?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I am no lady, am not fair,
+Can without escort home repair.
+_[She disengages herself and exit._]
+
+FAUST
+
+By heaven! This girl is fair indeed!
+No form like hers can I recall.
+Virtue she hath, and modest heed,
+Is piquant too, and sharp withal.
+Her cheek's soft light, her rosy lips,
+No length of time will e'er eclipse!
+Her downward glance in passing by,
+Deep in my heart is stamp'd for aye;
+How curt and sharp her answer too,
+To ecstasy the feeling grew!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters._]
+
+FAUST
+
+This girl must win for me! Dost hear?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Which?
+
+FAUST
+
+She who but now passed.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What! She?
+She from confession cometh here,
+From every sin absolved and free;
+I crept near the confessor's chair.
+All innocence her virgin soul,
+For next to nothing went she there;
+O'er such as she I've no control!
+
+[Illustration: MARGARET _From the Painting by Wilhelm von Kaulbach_]
+
+FAUST
+
+She's past fourteen.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+ You really talk
+Like any gay Lothario,
+Who every floweret from its stalk
+Would pluck, and deems nor grace, nor truth,
+Secure against his arts, forsooth!
+This ne'er the less won't always do.
+
+FAUST
+
+Sir Moralizer, prithee, pause;
+Nor plague me with your tiresome laws!
+To cut the matter short, my friend,
+She must this very night be mine,--
+And if to help me you decline,
+Midnight shall see our compact end.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What may occur just bear in mind!
+A fortnight's space, at least, I need,
+A fit occasion but to find.
+
+FAUST
+
+With but seven hours I could succeed;
+Nor should I want the devil's wile,
+So young a creature to beguile.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Like any Frenchman now you speak,
+But do not fret, I pray; why seek
+To hurry to enjoyment straight?
+The pleasure is not half so great,
+As when at first, around, above,
+With all the fooleries of love,
+The puppet you can knead and mold
+As in Italian story oft is told.
+
+FAUST
+
+No such incentives, do I need.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+But now, without offence or jest!
+You cannot quickly, I protest,
+In winning this sweet child succeed.
+By storm we cannot take the fort,
+To stratagem we must resort.
+
+FAUST
+
+Conduct me to her place of rest!
+Some token of the angel bring!
+A kerchief from her snowy breast,
+A garter bring me--any thing!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+That I my anxious zeal may prove,
+Your pangs to soothe and aid your love,
+A single moment will we not delay,
+Will lead you to her room this very day.
+
+FAUST
+
+And shall I see her?--Have her?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+ No!
+She to a neighbor's house will go;
+But in her atmosphere alone
+The tedious hours meanwhile you may employ
+In blissful dreams of future joy.
+
+FAUST
+
+Can we go now?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis yet too soon.
+
+FAUST
+
+Some present for my love procure! [_Exit._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Presents so soon! 'tis well! success is sure!
+Full many a goodly place I know,
+And treasures buried long ago;
+I must a bit o'erlook them now. [_Exit._]
+
+
+EVENING. A SMALL AND NEAT ROOM
+
+MARGARET (_braiding and binding up her hair_)
+
+I would give something now to know
+Who yonder gentleman could be!
+He had a gallant air, I trow,
+And doubtless was of high degree:
+That written on his brow was seen--
+Nor else would he so bold have been.
+
+[_Exit_]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Come in! tread softly! be discreet!
+
+FAUST (_after a pause_)
+
+_Begone and leave me, I entreat!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_looking round_)
+
+Not every maiden is so neat.
+
+[_Exit_]
+
+FAUST (_gazing round_)
+
+Welcome sweet twilight, calm and blest,
+That in this hallow'd precinct reigns!
+Fond yearning love, inspire my breast,
+Feeding on hope's sweet dew thy blissful pains!
+What stillness here environs me!
+Content and order brood around.
+What fulness in this poverty!
+In this small cell what bliss profound!
+
+[_He throws himself on the leather arm-chair beside
+the bed_.]
+
+Receive me thou, who hast in thine embrace,
+Welcom'd in joy and grief the ages flown!
+How oft the children of a by-gone race
+Have cluster'd round this patriarchal throne!
+Haply she, also, whom I hold so dear,
+For Christmas gift, with grateful joy possess'd,
+Hath with the full round cheek of childhood, here,
+Her grandsire's wither'd hand devoutly press'd.
+Maiden! I feel thy spirit haunt the place,
+Breathing of order and abounding grace.
+As with a mother's voice it prompteth thee
+The pure white cover o'er the board to spread,
+To stew the crisping sand beneath thy tread.
+Dear hand! so godlike in its ministry!
+The hut becomes a paradise through thee!
+And here--
+
+[_He raises the bed curtain_.]
+
+How thrills my pulse with strange delight!
+Here could I linger hours untold;
+Thou, Nature, didst in vision bright,
+The embryo angel here unfold.
+Here lay the child, her bosom warm
+With life; while steeped in slumber's dew,
+To perfect grace, her godlike form,
+With pure and hallow'd weavings grew!
+
+And thou! ah here what seekest thou?
+How quails mine inmost being now!
+What wouldst thou here? what makes thy heart so sore?
+Unhappy Faust! I know thee now no more.
+
+Do I a magic atmosphere inhale?
+Erewhile, my passion would not brook delay!
+Now in a pure love-dream I melt away.
+Are we the sport of every passing gale?
+
+Should she return and enter now,
+How wouldst thou rue thy guilty flame!
+Proud vaunter--thou wouldst hide thy brow--
+And at her feet sink down with shame.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Quick! quick! below I see her there.
+
+FAUST
+
+Away! I will return no more!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Here is a casket, with a store
+Of jewels, which I got elsewhere.
+Just lay it in the press; make haste!
+I swear to you, 'twill turn her brain;
+Therein some trifles I have placed,
+Wherewith another to obtain.
+But child is child, and play is play.
+
+FAUST
+
+I know not--shall I?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Do you ask?
+Perchance you would retain the treasure?
+If such your wish, why then, I say,
+Henceforth absolve me from my task,
+Nor longer waste your hours of leisure.
+I trust you're not by avarice led!
+I rub my hands, I scratch my head,--
+
+[_He places the casket in the press and closes the lock._]
+
+Now quick! Away!
+That soon the sweet young creature may
+The wish and purpose of your heart obey;
+Yet stand you there
+As would you to the lecture-room repair,
+As if before you stood,
+Arrayed in flesh and blood,
+Physics and metaphysics weird and gray!--
+Away!
+                          [_Exeunt_.]
+
+MARGARET (_with a lamp_)
+
+Here 'tis so close, so sultry now,
+
+[_She opens the window._]
+
+Yet out of doors 'tis not so warm.
+I feel so strange, I know not how--
+I wish my mother would come home.
+Through me there runs a shuddering--
+I'm but a foolish timid thing!
+
+[_While undressing herself she begins to sing._]
+
+ There was a king in Thule,
+ True even to the grave;
+ To whom his dying mistress
+ A golden beaker gave.
+
+ At every feast he drained it,
+ Naught was to him so dear,
+ And often as he drained it,
+ Gush'd from his eyes the tear.
+
+ When death came, unrepining
+ His cities o'er he told;
+ All to his heir resigning,
+ Except his cup of gold.
+
+ With many a knightly vassal
+ At a royal feast sat he,
+ In yon proud hall ancestral,
+ In his castle o'er the sea.
+
+ Up stood the jovial monarch,
+ And quaff'd his last life's glow,
+ Then hurled the hallow'd goblet
+ Into the flood below.
+
+ He saw it splashing, drinking,
+ And plunging in the sea;
+ His eyes meanwhile were sinking,
+ And never again drank he.
+
+[_She opens the press to put away her clothes, and perceives
+the casket_.]
+
+How comes this lovely casket here? The press
+I locked, of that I'm confident.
+'Tis very wonderful! What's in it I can't guess;
+Perhaps 'twas brought by some one in distress,
+And left in pledge for loan my mother lent.
+Here by a ribbon hangs a little key!
+I have a mind to open it and see!
+Heavens! only look! what have we here!
+In all my days ne'er saw I such a sight!
+Jewels! which any noble dame might wear,
+For some high pageant richly dight
+This chain--how would it look on me!
+These splendid gems, whose may they be?
+
+[_She puts them on and steps before the glass._]
+
+Were but the earrings only mine!
+Thus one has quite another air.
+What boots it to be young and fair?
+It doubtless may be very fine;
+But then, alas, none cares for you,
+And praise sounds half like pity too.
+
+Gold all doth lure,
+Gold doth secure
+All things. Alas, we poor!
+
+
+PROMENADE
+
+_FAUST walking thoughtfully up and down. To him_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+By all rejected love! By hellish fire I curse,
+Would I knew aught to make my imprecation worse!
+
+FAUST
+
+What aileth thee? what chafes thee now so sore?
+A face like that I never saw before!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'd yield me to the devil instantly,
+Did it not happen that myself am he!
+
+FAUST
+
+There must be some disorder in thy wit!
+To rave thus like a madman, is it fit?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Think! only think! The gems for Gretchen brought,
+Them hath a priest now made his own!--
+A glimpse of them the mother caught,
+And 'gan with secret fear to groan.
+The woman's scent is keen enough;
+Doth ever in the prayer-book snuff;
+Smells every article to ascertain
+Whether the thing is holy or profane,
+And scented in the jewels rare,
+That there was not much blessing there.
+"My child," she cries; "ill-gotten good
+Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood;
+With them we'll deck our Lady shrine,
+She'll cheer our souls with bread divine!"
+At this poor Gretchen 'gan to pout;
+'Tis a gift-horse, at least, she thought,
+And sure, he godless cannot be,
+Who brought them here so cleverly.
+Straight for a priest the mother sent,
+Who, when he understood the jest,
+With what he saw was well content.
+"This shows a pious mind!" Quoth he:
+"Self-conquest is true victory.
+The Church hath a good stomach, she, with zest,
+Whole countries hath swallow'd down,
+And never yet a surfeit known.
+The Church alone, be it confessed,
+Daughters, can ill-got wealth digest."
+
+FAUST
+
+It is a general custom, too,
+Practised alike by king and jew.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+With that, clasp, chain, and ring, he swept
+As they were mushrooms; and the casket,
+Without one word of thanks, he kept,
+As if of nuts it were a basket.
+Promised reward in heaven, then forth he hied--
+And greatly they were edified.
+
+FAUST
+
+And Gretchen!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ In unquiet mood
+Knows neither what she would or should;
+The trinkets night and day thinks o'er;
+On him who brought them, dwells still more.
+
+FAUST
+
+The darling's sorrow grieves me, bring
+Another set without delay!
+The first, methinks, was no great thing.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+All's to my gentleman child's play!
+
+FAUST
+
+Plan all things to achieve my end!
+Engage the attention of her friend!
+No milk-and-water devil be,
+And bring fresh jewels instantly!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay, sir! Most gladly I'll obey.
+
+[FAUST _exit_.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Your doting love-sick fool, with ease,
+Merely his lady-love to please,
+Sun, moon, and stars in sport would puff away.
+
+[_Exit._]
+
+
+THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE
+
+MARTHA (_alone_)
+
+God pardon my dear husband, he
+Doth not in truth act well by me!
+Forth in the world abroad to roam,
+And leave me on the straw at home.
+And yet his will I ne'er did thwart,
+God knows, I lov'd him from my heart.
+
+[_She weeps._]
+
+Perchance he's dead!--oh wretched state!--
+Had I but a certificate!
+
+(MARGARET _comes_.)
+
+MARGARET
+
+Dame Martha!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ Gretchen?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Only think!
+My knees beneath me well-nigh sink!
+Within my press I've found today
+Another case, of ebony.
+And things--magnificent they are,
+More costly than the first, by far.
+
+MARTHA
+
+You must not name it to your mother!
+It would to shrift, just like the other.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Nay look at them! now only see!
+
+MARTHA (_dresses her up_)
+
+Thou happy creature!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Woe is me!
+Them in the street I cannot wear,
+Or in the church, or anywhere.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Come often over here to me,
+The gems put on quite privately;
+And then before the mirror walk an hour or so,
+Thus we shall have our pleasure too.
+Then suitable occasions we must seize,
+As at a feast, to show them by degrees:
+A chain at first, pearl ear-drops then,--your mother
+Won't see them, or we'll coin some tale or other.
+
+MARGARET
+
+But, who, I wonder, could the caskets bring?
+I fear there's something wrong about the thing!
+
+[_A knock._]
+
+Good heavens! can that my mother be?
+
+MARTHA (_peering through the blind_)
+
+'Tis a strange gentleman, I see.
+Come in!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I've ventur'd to intrude today.
+Ladies, excuse the liberty, I pray.
+
+[_He steps back respectfully before_ MARGARET.]
+
+After dame Martha Schwerdtlein I inquire!
+
+MARTHA
+
+'Tis I. Pray what have you to say to me?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside to her_)
+
+I know you now,--and therefore will retire;
+At present you've distinguished company.
+Pardon the freedom, Madam, with your leave,
+I will make free to call again at eve.
+
+MARTHA (_aloud_)
+
+Why, child, of all strange notions, he
+For some grand lady taketh thee!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I am, in truth, of humble blood--
+The gentleman is far too good--
+Nor gems nor trinkets are my own.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh 'tis not the mere ornaments alone;
+Her glance and mien far more betray.
+Rejoiced I am that I may stay.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Your business, Sir? I long to know--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Would I could happier tidings show!
+I trust mine errand you'll not let me rue;
+Your husband's dead, and greeteth you.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Is dead? True heart! Oh misery!
+My husband dead! Oh, I shall die!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas! good Martha! don't despair!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now listen to the sad affair!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I for this cause should fear to love.
+The loss my certain death would prove.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Joy still must sorrow, sorrow joy attend.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Proceed, and tell the story of his end!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+At Padua, in St. Anthony's,
+In holy ground his body lies;
+Quiet and cool his place of rest,
+With pious ceremonials blest.
+
+MARTHA
+
+And had you naught besides to bring?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh yes! one grave and solemn prayer;
+Let them for him three hundred masses sing!
+But in my pockets, I have nothing there.
+
+MARTHA
+
+No trinket! no love-token did he send!
+What every journeyman safe in his pouch will hoard
+There for remembrance fondly stored,
+And rather hungers, rather begs than spend!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Madam, in truth, it grieves me sore,
+But he his gold not lavishly hath spent.
+His failings too he deeply did repent,
+Ay! and his evil plight bewail'd still more.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas! That men should thus be doomed to woe!
+I for his soul will many a requiem pray.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A husband you deserve this very day;
+A child so worthy to be loved.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Ah no,
+That time hath not yet come for me.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If not a spouse, a gallant let it be.
+Among heaven's choicest gifts, I place,
+So sweet a darling to embrace.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Our land doth no such usage know.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Usage or not, it happens so.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Go on, I pray!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I stood by his bedside.
+Something less foul it was than dung;
+'Twas straw half rotten; yet, he as a Christian died.
+And sorely hath remorse his conscience wrung.
+"Wretch that I was," quoth he, with parting breath,
+"So to forsake my business and my wife!
+Ah! the remembrance is my death.
+Could I but have her pardon in this life!"--
+
+MARTHA (_weeping_)
+
+Dear soul! I've long forgiven him, indeed!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+"Though she, God knows, was more to blame than I."
+
+MARTHA
+
+He lied! What, on the brink of death to lie!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If I am skill'd the countenance to read,
+He doubtless fabled as he parted hence.--
+"No time had I to gape, or take my ease," he said,
+"First to get children, and then get them bread;
+And bread, too, in the very widest sense;
+Nor could I eat in peace even my proper share."
+
+MARTHA
+
+What, all my truth, my love forgotten quite?
+My weary drudgery by day and night!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Not so! He thought of you with tender care.
+Quoth he: "Heaven knows how fervently I prayed,
+For wife and children when from Malta bound;--
+The prayer hath heaven with favor crowned;
+We took a Turkish vessel which conveyed
+Rich store of treasure for the Sultan's court;
+Its own reward our gallant action brought;
+The captur'd prize was shared among the crew,
+And of the treasure I received my due."
+
+MARTHA
+
+How? Where? The treasure hath he buried, pray?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Where the four winds have blown it, who can say?
+In Naples as he stroll'd, a stranger there,--
+A comely maid took pity on my friend:
+And gave such tokens of her love and care,
+That he retained them to his blessed end.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Scoundrel! to rob his children of their bread!
+And all this misery, this bitter need,
+Could not his course of recklessness impede!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Well, he hath paid the forfeit, and is dead.
+Now were I in your place, my counsel hear;
+My weeds I'd wear for one chaste year,
+And for another lover meanwhile would look out.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Alas, I might search far and near,
+Not quickly should I find another like my first!
+There could not be a fonder fool than mine,
+Only he loved too well abroad to roam;
+Loved foreign women too, and foreign wine,
+And loved besides the dice accurs'd.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+All had gone swimmingly, no doubt,
+Had he but given you at home,
+On his side, just as wide a range.
+Upon such terms, to you I swear,
+Myself with you would gladly rings exchange!
+
+MARTHA
+
+The gentleman is surely pleas'd to jest!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+Now to be off in time, were best!
+She'd make the very devil marry her.
+
+(_To_ MARGARET)
+
+How fares it with your heart?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ How mean you, Sir?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+The sweet young innocent!
+
+(_aloud_)
+
+ Ladies, farewell!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Farewell!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ But ere you leave us, quickly tell!
+I from a witness fain had heard,
+Where, how, and when my husband died and was interr'd.
+To forms I've always been attached indeed,
+His death I fain would in the journals read.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay, madam, what two witnesses declare
+Is held as valid everywhere;
+A gallant friend I have, not far from here,
+Who will for you before the judge appear.
+I'll bring him straight.
+
+MARTHA
+
+ I pray you do!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And this young lady, we shall find her too?
+A noble youth, far traveled, he
+Shows to the sex all courtesy.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I in his presence needs must blush for shame.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Not in the presence of a crownèd king!
+
+MARTHA
+
+The garden, then, behind my house, we'll name,
+There we'll await you both this evening.
+
+
+A STREET
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+How is it now? How speeds it? Is't in train?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Bravo! I find you all aflame!
+Gretchen full soon your own you'll name.
+This eve, at neighbor Martha's, her you'll meet again;
+The woman seems expressly made
+To drive the pimp and gipsy's trade.
+
+FAUST
+
+Good!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ But from us she something would request.
+
+FAUST
+
+A favor claims return, as this world goes.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We have on oath but duly to attest
+That her dead husband's limbs, outstretch'd, repose
+In holy ground at Padua.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Sage indeed!
+So I suppose we straight must journey there!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+_Sancta simplicitas!_ For that no need!
+Without much knowledge we have but to swear.
+
+FAUST
+
+If you have nothing better to suggest,
+Against your plan I must at once protest.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh, holy man! methinks I have you there!
+In all your life, say, have you ne'er
+False witness borne, until this hour?
+Have you of God, the world, and all it doth contain,
+Of man, and that which worketh in his heart and brain,
+Not definitions given, in words of weight and power,
+With front unblushing, and a dauntless breast?
+Yet, if into the depth of things you go,
+Touching these matters, it must be confess'd,
+As much as of Herr Schwerdtlein's death you know!
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou art and dost remain liar and sophist too.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay, if one did not take a somewhat deeper view!
+Tomorrow, in all honor, thou
+Poor Gretchen wilt befool, and vow
+Thy soul's deep love, in lover's fashion.
+
+FAUST
+
+And from my heart.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ All good and fair!
+Then deathless constancy thou'lt swear;
+Speak of one all o'ermastering passion--
+Will that too issue from the heart?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Forbear!
+When passion sways me, and I seek to frame
+Fit utterance for feeling, deep, intense,
+And for my frenzy finding no fit name,
+Sweep round the ample world with every sense,
+Grasp at the loftiest words to speak my flame,
+And call the glow, wherewith I burn,
+Quenchless, eternal, yea, eterne--
+Is that of sophistry a devilish play?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Yet am I right!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Mark this, my friend,
+And spare my lungs; who would the right maintain,
+And hath a tongue wherewith his point to gain,
+Will gain it in the end.
+But come, of gossip I am weary quite;
+Because I've no resource, thou'rt in the right.
+
+
+GARDEN
+
+MARGARET _on_ FAUST's _arm_. MARTHA _with_ MEPHISTOPHELES _walking up
+and down_.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I feel it, you but spare my ignorance,
+The gentleman to blame me stoops thus low.
+
+[Illustration: FAUST AND MARGARET _From the Painting by Carl Becker_]
+
+A traveler from complaisance
+Still makes the best of things; I know
+Too well, my humble prattle never can
+Have power to entertain so wise a man.
+
+FAUST
+
+One glance, one word from thee doth charm me more
+Than the world's wisdom or the sage's lore.
+
+[_He kisses her hand._]
+
+MARGARET
+
+Nay! trouble not yourself! A hand so coarse,
+So rude as mine, how can you kiss!
+What constant work at home must I not do perforce!
+My mother too exacting is.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+MARTHA
+
+Thus, sir, unceasing travel is your lot?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Traffic and duty urge us! With what pain
+Are we compelled to leave full many a spot,
+Where yet we dare not once remain!
+
+MARTHA
+
+In youth's wild years, with vigor crown'd,
+'Tis not amiss thus through the world to sweep;
+But ah, the evil days come round!
+And to a lonely grave as bachelor to creep
+A pleasant thing has no one found.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The prospect fills me with dismay.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Therefore in time, dear sir, reflect, I pray.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+MARGARET
+
+Ay, out of sight is out of mind!
+Politeness easy is to you;
+Friends everywhere, and not a few,
+Wiser than I am, you will find.
+
+FAUST
+
+O dearest, trust me, what doth pass for sense
+Full oft is self-conceit and blindness!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ How?
+
+FAUST
+
+Simplicity and holy innocence--
+When will ye learn your hallow'd worth to know!
+Ah, when will meekness and humility,
+Kind and all-bounteous nature's loftiest dower--
+
+MARGARET
+
+Only one little moment think of me!
+To think of you I shall have many an hour.
+
+FAUST
+
+You are perhaps much alone?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Yes, small our household is, I own,
+Yet must I see to it. No maid we keep,
+And I must cook, sew, knit, and sweep,
+Still early on my feet and late;
+My mother is in all things, great and small,
+So accurate!
+Not that for thrift there is such pressing need,
+Than others we might make more show indeed;
+My father left behind a small estate,
+A house and garden near the city-wall.
+But fairly quiet now my days, I own;
+As soldier is my brother gone;
+My little sister's dead; the babe to rear
+Occasion'd me some care and fond annoy;
+But I would go through all again with joy,
+The darling was to me so dear.
+
+FAUST
+
+An angel, sweet, if it resembled thee!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I reared it up, and it grew fond of me.
+After my father's death it saw the day;
+We gave my mother up for lost, she lay
+In such a wretched plight, and then at length
+So very slowly she regain'd her strength.
+Weak as she was, 'twas vain for her to try
+Herself to suckle the poor babe, so I
+Reared it on milk and water all alone;
+And thus the child became as 'twere my own;
+Within my arms it stretched itself and grew,
+And smiling, nestled in my bosom too.
+
+FAUST
+
+Doubtless the purest happiness was thine.
+
+MARGARET
+
+But many weary hours, in sooth, were also mine.
+At night its little cradle stood
+Close to my bed; so was I wide awake
+If it but stirred;
+One while I was obliged to give it food,
+Or to my arms the darling take;
+From bed full oft must rise, whene'er its cry I heard,
+And, dancing it, must pace the chamber to and fro;
+Stand at the wash-tub early; forthwith go
+To market, and then mind the cooking too--
+Tomorrow like today, the whole year through.
+Ah, sir, thus living, it must be confess'd
+One's spirits are not always of the best;
+Yet it a relish gives to food and rest.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+MARTHA
+
+Poor women! we are badly off, I own;
+A bachelor's conversion's hard, indeed!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Madam, with one like you it rests alone,
+To tutor me a better course to lead.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Speak frankly, sir, none is there you have met?
+Has your heart ne'er attach'd itself as yet?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+One's own fire-side and a good wife are gold
+And pearls of price, so says the proverb old.
+
+MARTHA
+
+I mean, has passion never stirred your breast?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I've everywhere been well received, I own.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Yet hath your heart no earnest preference known?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+With ladies one should ne'er presume to jest.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Ah! you mistake!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I'm sorry I'm so blind!
+But this I know--that you are very kind.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+FAUST
+
+Me, little angel, didst thou recognize,
+When in the garden first I came?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou dost forgive my boldness, dost not blame
+The liberty I took that day,
+When thou from church didst lately wend thy way?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I was confused. So had it never been;
+No one of me could any evil say.
+Alas, thought I, he doubtless in thy mien,
+Something unmaidenly or bold hath seen?
+
+[Illustration: FAUST AND MARGARET IN THE GARDEN Liezen-Mayer]
+
+It seemed as if it struck him suddenly,
+Here's just a girl with whom one may make free!
+Yet I must own that then I scarcely knew
+What in your favor here began at once to plead;
+Yet I was angry with myself indeed
+That I more angry could not feel with you.
+
+FAUST
+
+Sweet love!
+
+MARGARET
+
+                   Just wait awhile!
+[_She gathers a star-flower and plucks off the leaves
+one after another._]
+
+FAUST
+
+                    A nosegay may that be?
+
+MARGARET
+
+No! It is but a game.
+
+FAUST
+
+                   How?
+
+MARGARET
+
+                 Go, you'll laugh at me!
+
+[_She plucks off the leaves and murmurs to herself._]
+
+FAUST
+
+What murmurest thou?
+
+MARGARET (_half aloud_)
+
+             He loves me--loves me not.
+
+FAUST
+
+Sweet angel, with thy face of heavenly bliss!
+
+MARGARET (_continues_)
+
+He loves me--not--he loves me--not--
+    [_plucking off the last leaf with fond joy_.]
+
+                     He loves me!
+
+FAUST
+
+                                 Yes!
+And this flower-language, darling, let it be
+A heavenly oracle! He loveth thee!
+Know'st thou the meaning of, He loveth thee?
+                     [_He seizes both her hands._]
+
+MARGARET
+
+I tremble so!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Nay! do not tremble, love!
+Let this hand-pressure, let this glance reveal
+Feelings, all power of speech above;
+To give oneself up wholly and to feel
+A joy that must eternal prove!
+Eternal!--Yes, its end would be despair,
+No end!--It cannot end!
+
+[MARGARET _presses his hand, extricates herself, and
+runs away. He stands a moment in thought, and
+then follows her_.]
+
+MARTHA (_approaching_)
+
+Night's closing.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Yes, we'll presently away.
+
+MARTHA
+
+I would entreat you longer yet to stay;
+But 'tis a wicked place, just here about;
+It is as if the folk had nothing else to do,
+Nothing to think of too,
+But gaping watch their neighbors, who goes in and out;
+And scandal's busy still, do whatsoe'er one may.
+And our young couple?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ They have flown up there,
+The wanton butterflies!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ He seems to take to her.
+And she to him. 'Tis of the world the way!
+
+
+A SUMMER-HOUSE
+
+[MARGARET _runs in, hides behind the door, holds the tip
+of her finger to her lip, and peeps through the
+crevice_.]
+
+MARGARET
+
+He comes!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Ah, little rogue, so thou
+Think'st to provoke me! I have caught thee now!
+
+[_He kisses her._]
+
+MARGARET (_embracing him, and returning the kiss_)
+
+Dearest of men! I love thee from my heart!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_.]
+
+FAUST (_stamping_)
+
+Who's there?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ A friend!
+
+FAUST
+
+ A brute!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ 'Tis time to part.
+
+MARTHA (_comes_)
+
+Ay, it is late, good sir.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Mayn't I attend you, then?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Oh no--my mother would--adieu, adieu!
+
+FAUST
+
+And must I really then take leave of you?
+Farewell!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ Good-bye!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Ere long to meet again!
+
+[_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]
+
+MARGARET
+
+Good heavens! how all things far and near
+Must fill his mind--a man like this!
+Abash'd before him I appear,
+And say to all things only, yes.
+Poor simple child, I cannot see
+What 'tis that he can find in me.
+
+[_Exit._]
+
+FOREST AND CAVERN
+
+FAUST (_alone_)
+
+Spirit sublime! Thou gav'st me, gav'st me all
+For which I prayed! Not vainly hast thou turn'd
+To me thy countenance in flaming fire:
+Gavest me glorious nature for my realm,
+And also power to feel her and enjoy;
+Not merely with a cold and wondering glance,
+Thou dost permit me in her depths profound,
+As in the bosom of a friend to gaze.
+Before me thou dost lead her living tribes,
+And dost in silent grove, in air and stream
+Teach me to know my kindred. And when roars
+The howling storm-blast through the groaning wood,
+Wrenching the giant pine, which in its fall
+Crashing sweeps down its neighbor trunks and boughs,
+While hollow thunder from the hill resounds:
+Then thou dost lead me to some shelter'd cave,
+Dost there reveal me to myself, and show
+Of my own bosom the mysterious depths.
+And when with soothing beam, the moon's pale orb
+Full in my view climbs up the pathless sky,
+From crag and dewy grove, the silvery forms
+Of by-gone ages hover, and assuage
+The joy austere of contemplative thought.
+
+Oh, that naught perfect is assign'd to man,
+I feel, alas! With this exalted joy,
+Which lifts me near, and nearer to the gods,
+Thou gav'st me this companion, unto whom
+I needs must cling, though cold and insolent,
+He still degrades me to myself, and turns
+Thy glorious gifts to nothing, with a breath.
+He in my bosom with malicious zeal
+For that fair image fans a raging fire;
+From craving to enjoyment thus I reel,
+And in enjoyment languish for desire.
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of this lone life have you not had your fill?
+How for so long can it have charms for you?
+'Tis well enough to try it if you will;
+But then away again to something new!
+
+FAUST
+
+Would you could better occupy your leisure,
+Than in disturbing thus my hours of joy.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Well! Well! I'll leave you to yourself with pleasure,
+A serious tone you hardly dare employ.
+To part from one so crazy, harsh, and cross,
+Were not in truth a grievous loss.
+The live-long day, for you I toil and fret;
+Ne'er from his worship's face a hint I get,
+What pleases him, or what to let alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay truly! that is just the proper tone!
+He wearies me, and would with thanks be paid!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Poor Son of Earth, without my aid,
+How would thy weary days have flown?
+Thee of thy foolish whims I've cured,
+Thy vain imaginations banished.
+And but for me, be well assured,
+Thou from this sphere must soon have vanished.
+In rocky hollows and in caverns drear,
+Why like an owl sit moping here?
+Wherefore from dripping stones and moss with ooze embued,
+Dost suck, like any toad, thy food?
+A rare, sweet pastime. Verily!
+The doctor cleaveth still to thee.
+
+FAUST
+
+Dost comprehend what bliss without alloy
+From this wild wand'ring in the desert springs?--
+Couldst thou but guess the new life-power it brings,
+Thou wouldst be fiend enough to envy me my joy.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What super-earthly ecstasy! at night,
+To lie in darkness on the dewy height,
+Embracing heaven and earth in rapture high,
+The soul dilating to a deity;
+With prescient yearnings pierce the core of earth,
+Feel in your laboring breast the six-days' birth,
+Enjoy, in proud delight what no one knows,
+While your love-rapture o'er creation flows--
+The earthly lost in beatific vision,
+And then the lofty intuition--
+
+(_with a gesture_)
+
+I need not tell you how--to close!
+
+FAUST
+
+Fie on you!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ This displeases you? "For shame!"
+You are forsooth entitled to exclaim;
+We to chaste ears it seems must not pronounce
+What, nathless, the chaste heart cannot renounce.
+Well, to be brief, the joy as fit occasions rise,
+I grudge you not, of specious lies.
+But long this mood thou'lt not retain.
+Already thou'rt again outworn,
+And should this last, thou wilt be torn
+By frenzy or remorse and pain.
+Enough of this! Thy true love dwells apart,
+And all to her seems flat and tame;
+Alone thine image fills her heart,
+She loves thee with an all-devouring flame.
+First came thy passion with o'erpowering rush,
+Like mountain torrent, swollen by the melted snow;
+Full in her heart didst pour the sudden gush,
+Now has thy brooklet ceased to flow.
+Instead of sitting throned midst forests wild,
+It would become so great a lord
+To comfort the enamor'd child,
+And the young monkey for her love reward.
+To her the hours seem miserably long;
+She from the window sees the clouds float by
+As o'er the lofty city-walls they fly.
+"If I a birdie were!" so runs her song,
+Half through the night and all day long.
+Cheerful sometimes, more oft at heart full sore;
+Fairly outwept seem now her tears,
+Anon she tranquil is, or so appears,
+And love-sick evermore.
+
+FAUST
+
+Snake! Serpent vile!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+Good! If I catch thee with my guile!
+
+FAUST
+
+Vile reprobate! go get thee hence;
+Forbear the lovely girl to name!
+Nor in my half-distracted sense
+Kindle anew the smouldering flame!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What wouldest thou! She thinks you've taken flight;
+It seems, she's partly in the right.
+
+FAUST
+
+I'm near her still--and should I distant rove,
+Her I can ne'er forget, ne'er lose her love;
+And all things touch'd by those sweet lips of hers,
+Even the very Host, my envy stirs.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis well! I oft have envied you indeed,
+The twin-pair that among the roses feed.
+
+FAUST
+
+Pander, avaunt!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Go to! I laugh, the while you rail;
+The power which fashion'd youth and maid
+Well understood the noble trade;
+So neither shall occasion fail.
+But hence!--A mighty grief I trow!
+Unto thy lov'd one's chamber thou
+And not to death shouldst go.
+
+FAUST
+
+What is to me heaven's joy within her arms?
+What though my life her bosom warms!--
+Do I not ever feel her woe?
+The outcast am I not, unhoused, unblest,
+Inhuman monster, without aim or rest,
+Who, like the greedy surge, from rock to rock,
+Sweeps down the dread abyss with desperate shock?
+While she, within her lowly cot, which graced
+The Alpine slope, beside the waters wild,
+Her homely cares in that small world embraced,
+Secluded lived, a simple artless child.
+Was't not enough, in thy delirious whirl
+To blast the stedfast rocks!
+Her, and her peace as well,
+Must I, God-hated one, to ruin hurl!
+Dost claim this holocaust, remorseless Hell!
+Fiend, help me to cut short the hours of dread!
+Let what must happen, happen speedily!
+Her direful doom fall crushing on my head,
+And into ruin let her plunge with me!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Why how again it seethes and glows!
+Away, thou fool! Her torment ease!
+When such a head no issue sees,
+It pictures straight the final close.
+Long life to him who boldly dares!
+A devil's pluck thou'rt wont to show;
+As for a devil who despairs--
+Nothing I find so mawkish here below.
+
+
+MARGARET'S ROOM
+
+MARGARET (_alone at her spinning wheel_)
+
+
+   My peace is gone,
+      My heart is sore,
+    I find it never,
+      And nevermore!
+
+    Where him I have not,
+      Is the grave; and all
+    The world to me
+      Is turned to gall.
+
+    My wilder'd brain
+      Is overwrought;
+    My feeble senses
+      Are distraught.
+
+    My peace is gone,
+      My heart is sore,
+    I find it never,
+      And nevermore!
+
+    For him from the window
+      I gaze, at home;
+    For him and him only
+      Abroad I roam.
+    His lofty step,
+       His bearing high,
+    The smile of his lip,
+       The power of his eye,
+
+    His witching words,
+      Their tones of bliss,
+    His hand's fond pressure,
+      And ah--his kiss!
+
+    My peace is gone,
+      My heart is sore,
+    I find it never,
+      And nevermore.
+
+    My bosom aches
+      To feel him near;
+    Ah, could I clasp
+      And fold him here!
+
+   Kiss him and kiss him
+     Again would I,
+   And on his kisses
+    I fain would die.
+
+
+MARTHA'S GARDEN
+
+MARGARET _and_ FAUST
+
+MARGARET
+
+Promise me, Henry!
+
+FAUST
+
+What I can!
+
+MARGARET
+
+How thy religion fares, I fain would hear.
+Thou art a good kind-hearted man,
+Only that way not well-disposed, I fear.
+
+FAUST
+
+Forbear, my child! Thou feelest thee I love;
+My heart, my blood I'd give, my love to prove,
+And none would of their faith or church bereave.
+
+MARGARET
+
+That's not enough, we must ourselves believe!
+
+FAUST
+
+Must we?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Ah, could I but thy soul inspire!
+Thou honorest not the sacraments, alas!
+
+FAUST
+
+I honor them.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ But yet without desire;
+'Tis long since thou hast been either to shrift or mass.
+Dost thou believe in God?
+
+FAUST
+
+ My darling, who dares say?
+Yes, I in God believe.
+Question or priest or sage, and they
+Seem, in the answer you receive,
+To mock the questioner.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Then thou dost not believe?
+
+FAUST
+
+Sweet one! my meaning do not misconceive!
+Him who dare name,
+And who proclaim--
+Him I believe?
+Who that can feel,
+His heart can steel,
+To say: I believe him not?
+The All-embracer,
+All-sustainer,
+Holds and sustains he not
+Thee, me, himself?
+Lifts not the Heaven its dome above?
+Doth not the firm-set earth beneath us lie?
+And, beaming tenderly with looks of love,
+Climb not the everlasting stars on high?
+Do we not gaze into each other's eyes?
+Nature's impenetrable agencies,
+Are they not thronging on thy heart and brain,
+Viewless, or visible to mortal ken,
+Around thee weaving their mysterious chain?
+Fill thence thy heart, how large soe'er it be;
+And in the feeling when thou utterly art blest,
+Then call it, what thou wilt--
+Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God!
+I have no name for it!
+'Tis feeling all;
+Name is but sound and smoke
+Shrouding the glow of heaven.
+
+MARGARET
+
+All this is doubtless good and fair;
+Almost the same the parson says,
+Only in slightly different phrase.
+
+FAUST
+
+Beneath Heaven's sunshine, everywhere,
+This is the utterance of the human heart;
+Each in his language doth the like impart;
+Then why not I in mine?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ What thus I hear
+Sounds plausible, yet I'm not reconciled;
+There's something wrong about it; much I fear
+That thou art not a Christian.
+
+FAUST
+
+ My sweet child!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas! it long hath sorely troubled me,
+To see thee in such odious company.
+
+FAUST
+
+How so?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ The man who comes with thee, I hate,
+Yea, in my spirit's inmost depths abhor;
+As his loath'd visage, in my life before,
+Naught to my heart e'er gave a pang so great.
+
+FAUST
+
+Him fear not, my sweet love!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ His presence chills my blood.
+Toward all beside I have a kindly mood;
+Yet, though I yearn to gaze on thee, I feel
+At sight of him strange horror o'er me steal;
+That he's a villain my conviction's strong.
+May Heaven forgive me, if I do him wrong!
+
+FAUST
+
+Yet such strange fellows in the world must be!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I would not live with such an one as he.
+If for a moment he but enter here,
+He looks around him with a mocking sneer,
+And malice ill-conceal'd;
+That he with naught on earth can sympathize is clear;
+Upon his brow 'tis legibly revealed
+That to his heart no living soul is dear.
+So blest I feel, within thine arms,
+So warm and happy--free from all alarms;
+And still my heart doth close when he comes near.
+
+FAUST
+
+Foreboding angel! check thy fear!
+
+MARGARET
+
+It so o'ermasters me that when,
+Or wheresoe'er, his step I hear,
+I almost think, no more I love thee then.
+Besides, when he is near, I ne'er could pray.
+This eats into my heart; with thee
+The same, my Henry, it must be.
+
+FAUST
+
+This is antipathy!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ I must away.
+
+FAUST
+
+For one brief hour then may I never rest,
+And heart to heart, and soul to soul be pressed?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Ah, if I slept alone! Tonight
+The bolt I fain would leave undrawn for thee;
+But then my mother's sleep is light,
+Were we surprised by her, ah me!
+Upon the spot I should be dead.
+
+FAUST
+
+Dear angel! there's no cause for dread.
+Here is a little phial--if she take
+Mixed in her drink three drops, 'twill steep
+Her nature in a deep and soothing sleep.
+
+MARGARET
+
+What do I not for thy dear sake!
+To her it will not harmful prove?
+
+FAUST
+
+Should I advise it else, sweet love?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I know not, dearest, when thy face I see,
+What doth my spirit to thy will constrain;
+Already I have done so much for thee,
+That scarcely more to do doth now remain. [_Exit._]
+
+(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_)
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The monkey! Is she gone?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Again hast played the spy?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of all that pass'd I'm well apprized,
+I heard the doctor catechized,
+And trust he'll profit much thereby!
+Fain would the girls inquire indeed
+Touching their lover's faith and creed,
+And whether pious in the good old way;
+They think, if pliant there, us too he will obey.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou monster, dost not see that this
+Pure soul, possessed by ardent love,
+Full of the living faith,
+To her of bliss
+The only pledge, must holy anguish prove,
+Holding the man she loves fore-doomed to endless death!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Most sensual, supersensualist! The while
+A damsel leads thee by the nose!
+
+FAUST
+
+Of filth and fire abortion vile!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In physiognomy strange skill she shows;
+She in my presence feels she knows not how;
+My mask it seems a hidden sense reveals;
+That I'm a genius she must needs allow,
+That I'm the very devil perhaps she feels.
+So then tonight--
+
+FAUST
+
+ What's that to you?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I've my amusement in it too!
+
+
+AT THE WELL
+
+MARGARET _and_ BESSY, _with pitchers_
+
+BESSY
+
+Of Barbara hast nothing heard?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I rarely go from home--no, not a word.
+
+BESSY
+
+'Tis true: Sybilla told me so today!
+That comes of being proud, methinks;
+She played the fool at last.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ How so?
+
+BESSY
+
+ They say
+That two she feedeth when she eats and drinks.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas!
+
+BESSY
+
+ She's rightly served, in sooth.
+How long she hung upon the youth!
+What promenades, what jaunts there were
+To dancing booth and village fair!
+The first she everywhere must shine,
+He always treating her to pastry and to wine.
+Of her good looks she was so vain,
+So shameless too, that to retain
+His presents, she did not disdain;
+Sweet words and kisses came anon--
+And then the virgin flower was gone.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Poor thing!
+
+BESSY
+
+ Forsooth dost pity her?
+At night, when at our wheels we sat,
+Abroad our mothers ne'er would let us stir.
+Then with her lover she must chat,
+Or on the bench, or in the dusky walk,
+Thinking the hours too brief for their sweet talk;
+Her proud head she will have to bow,
+And in white sheet do penance now!
+
+MARGARET
+
+But he will surely marry her?
+
+BESSY
+
+ Not he!
+He won't be such a fool! a gallant lad
+Like him can roam o'er land and sea;
+Besides, he's off.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ That is not fair!
+
+BESSY
+
+If she should get him, 'twere almost as bad!
+Her myrtle wreath the boys would tear;
+And then we girls would plague her too,
+For we chopp'd straw before her door would strew!
+
+[_Exit._]
+
+MARGARET (_walking toward home_)
+
+How stoutly once I could inveigh,
+If a poor maiden went astray;
+Not words enough my tongue could find,
+'Gainst others' sin to speak my mind!
+Black as it seemed, I blacken'd it still more,
+And strove to make it blacker than before.
+And did myself securely bless--
+Now my own trespass doth appear!
+Yet ah!--what urg'd me to transgress,
+God knows, it was so sweet, so dear!
+
+ZWINGER
+
+_Inclosure between the City-wall and the Gate. (In the niche of the wall a
+devotional image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower-pots before it.)_
+
+MARGARET (_putting fresh flowers in the pots_)
+
+ Ah, rich in sorrow, thou,
+ Stoop thy maternal brow,
+ And mark with pitying eye my misery!
+ The sword in thy pierced heart,
+ Thou dost with bitter smart
+ Gaze upwards on thy Son's death agony.
+ To the dear God on high
+ Ascends thy piteous sigh,
+ Pleading for his and thy sore misery.
+
+ Ah, who can know
+ The torturing woe,
+ The pangs that rack me to the bone?
+ How my poor heart, without relief,
+ Trembles and throbs, its yearning grief
+ Thou knowest, thou alone!
+
+ Ah, wheresoe'er I go,
+ With woe, with woe, with woe,
+ My anguish'd breast is aching!
+ When all alone I creep,
+ I weep, I weep, I weep,
+ Alas! my heart is breaking!
+
+ The flower-pots at my window
+ Were wet with tears of mine,
+ The while I pluck'd these blossoms
+ At dawn to deck thy shrine!
+
+ When early in my chamber
+ Shone bright the rising morn,
+ I sat there on my pallet,
+ My heart with anguish torn.
+
+ Help! from disgrace and death deliver me!
+ Ah! rich in sorrow, thou,
+ Stoop thy maternal brow,
+ And mark with pitying eye my misery!
+
+
+NIGHT. STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR
+
+VALENTINE (_a soldier_, MARGARET's _brother_)
+
+When seated 'mong the jovial crowd,
+Where merry comrades boasting loud
+Each named with pride his favorite lass,
+And in her honor drain'd his glass;
+Upon my elbows I would lean,
+With easy quiet view the scene,
+Nor give my tongue the rein, until
+Each swaggering blade had talked his fill.
+Then smiling I my beard would stroke,
+The while, with brimming glass, I spoke;
+"Each to his taste!--but to my mind,
+Where in the country will you find,
+A maid, as my dear Gretchen fair,
+Who with my sister can compare?"
+Cling! clang! so rang the jovial sound!
+Shouts of assent went circling round;
+Pride of her sex is she!--cried some;
+Then were the noisy boasters dumb.
+
+And now!--I could tear out my hair,
+Or dash my brains out in despair!--
+Me every scurvy knave may twit,
+With stinging jest and taunting sneer!
+Like skulking debtor I must sit,
+And sweat each casual word to hear!
+And though I smash'd them one and all,--
+Yet them I could not liars call.
+ Who comes this way? who's sneaking here?
+ If I mistake not, two draw near.
+ If he be one, have at him;--well I wot
+ Alive he shall not leave this spot!
+
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+How far from yon sacristy, athwart the night,
+Its beams the ever-burning taper throws,
+While ever waning, fades the glimmering light,
+As gathering darkness doth around it close!
+So night like gloom doth in my bosom reign.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'm like a tom-cat in a thievish vein
+That up fire-ladders tall and steep
+And round the walls doth slyly creep;
+Virtuous withal I feel, with, I confess.
+A touch of thievish joy and wantonness.
+Thus through my limbs already burns
+The glorious Walpurgis night!
+After tomorrow it returns;
+Then why one wakes, one knows aright!
+
+FAUST
+
+Meanwhile, the treasure I see glimmering there.
+Will it ascend into the open air?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ere long thou wilt proceed with pleasure
+To raise the casket with its treasure;
+I took a peep, therein are stored
+Of lion-dollars a rich hoard.
+
+FAUST
+
+And not a trinket? not a ring?
+Wherewith my lovely girl to deck?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I saw among them some such thing,
+A string of pearls to grace her neck.
+
+FAUST
+
+'Tis well! I'm always loath to go,
+Without some gift my love to show.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Some pleasures gratis to enjoy
+Should surely cause you no annoy.
+While bright with stars the heavens appear,
+I'll sing a masterpiece of art:
+A moral song shall charm her ear,
+More surely to beguile her heart.
+
+(_Sings to the guitar._)
+
+ Kathrina, say,
+ Why lingering stay
+ At dawn of day
+ Before your lover's door?
+ Maiden, beware,
+ Nor enter there,
+ Lest forth you fare,
+ A maiden never more.
+
+ Maiden take heed!
+ Reck well my rede!
+ Is't done, the deed?
+ Good night, you poor, poor thing!
+ The spoiler's lies,
+ His arts despise,
+ Nor yield your prize,
+ Without the marriage ring!
+
+VALENTINE (_steps forward_)
+
+Whom are you luring here? I'll give it you!
+Accursed rat-catchers, your strains I'll end!
+First, to the devil the guitar I'll send!
+Then to the devil with the singer too!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The poor guitar! 'tis done for now.
+
+VALENTINE
+
+Your skull shall follow next, I trow!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Doctor, stand fast! your strength collect!
+Be prompt, and do as I direct.
+Out with your whisk! keep close, I pray,
+I'll parry! do you thrust away!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+Then parry that!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Why not?
+
+
+VALENTINE
+
+ That too!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+With ease!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+ The devil fights for you!
+Why how is this? my hand's already lamed!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Thrust home!
+
+VALENTINE (_falls_)
+
+ Alas!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ There! Now the lubber's tamed!
+But quick, away! We must at once take wing;
+A cry of murder strikes upon the ear;
+With the police I know my course to steer,
+But with the blood-ban 'tis another thing.
+
+MARTHA (_at the window_)
+
+Without! without!
+
+MARGARET (_at the window_)
+
+ Quick, bring a light!
+
+MARTHA (_as above_)
+
+They rail and scuffle, scream and fight!
+
+PEOPLE
+
+One lieth here already dead!
+
+MARTHA (_coming out_)
+
+Where are the murderers? are they fled?
+
+MARGARET (_coming out_)
+
+Who lieth here?
+
+PEOPLE
+
+Thy mother's son.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Almighty God! I am undone!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+I'm dying--'tis a soon-told tale,
+And sooner done the deed.
+Why, women, do ye howl and wail?
+To my last words give heed!
+
+[_All gather round him._]
+
+My Gretchen, see! still young art thou,
+Art not discreet enough, I trow,
+Thou dost thy matters ill;
+Let this in confidence be said:
+Since thou the path of shame dost tread,
+Tread it with right good will!
+
+MARGARET
+
+My brother! God! what can this mean?
+
+VALENTINE
+
+ Abstain,
+Nor dare God's holy name profane!
+What's done, alas, is done and past!
+Matters will take their course at last;
+By stealth thou dost begin with one,
+Others will follow him anon;
+And when a dozen thee have known,
+Thou'lt common be to all the town.
+When infamy is newly born,
+In secret she is brought to light,
+And the mysterious veil of night
+O'er head and ears is drawn;
+The loathsome birth men fain would slay;
+But soon, full grown, she waxes bold,
+And though not fairer to behold,
+With brazen front insults the day:
+The more abhorrent to the sight,
+The more she courts the day's pure light,
+The time already I discern,
+When thee all honest folk will spurn,
+And shun thy hated form to meet,
+As when a corpse infects the street.
+Thy heart will sink in blank despair,
+When they shall look thee in the face!
+A golden chain no more thou'lt wear!
+Nor near the altar take in church thy place!
+In fair lace collar simply dight
+Thou'lt dance no more with spirits light!
+In darksome corners thou wilt bide,
+Where beggars vile and cripples hide,
+And e'en though God thy crime forgive,
+On earth, a thing accursed, thou'lt live!
+
+MARTHA
+
+Your parting soul to God commend!
+Your dying breath in slander will you spend?
+
+VALENTINE
+
+Could I but reach thy wither'd frame,
+Thou wretched beldame, void of shame!
+Full measure I might hope to win
+Of pardon then for every sin.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Brother! what agonizing pain!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+I tell thee, from vain tears abstain!
+'Twas thy dishonor pierced my heart,
+Thy fall the fatal death-stab gave.
+Through the death-sleep I now depart
+To God, a soldier true and brave.
+
+[_Dies._]
+
+
+CATHEDRAL
+
+_Service, Organ, and Anthem._
+
+MARGARET _amongst a number of people_
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT _behind_ MARGARET
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+[Illustration: VALENTINE'S DEATH Franz Simm]
+
+How different, Gretchen, was it once with thee,
+When thou, still full of innocence,
+Here to the altar camest,
+And from the small and well-con'd book
+Didst lisp thy prayer,
+Half childish sport,
+Half God in thy young heart!
+Gretchen!
+What thoughts are thine?
+What deed of shame
+Lurks in thy sinful heart?
+Is thy prayer utter'd for thy mother's soul,
+Who into long, long torment slept through thee?
+Whose blood is on thy threshold?--
+And stirs there not already 'neath thy heart
+Another quick'ning pulse, that even now
+Tortures itself and thee
+With its foreboding presence?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Woe! Woe!
+Oh, could I free me from the thoughts
+That hither, thither, crowd upon my brain,
+Against my will!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Dies irae, dies illa,
+ Solvet sæclum in favilla._
+
+[_The organ sounds._]
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+ Grim horror seizes thee!
+ The trumpet sounds!
+ The graves are shaken!
+ And thy heart
+ From ashy rest
+ For torturing flames
+ Anew created,
+ Trembles into life!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Would I were hence!
+ It is as if the organ
+ Choked my breath,
+ As if the choir
+ Melted my inmost heart!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Judex ergo cum sedebit,
+ Quidquid latet adparebit,
+ Nil inultum remanebit._
+
+MARGARET
+
+ I feel oppressed!
+ The pillars of the wall
+ Imprison me!
+ The vaulted roof
+ Weighs down upon me!--air!
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+ Wouldst hide thee? sin and shame
+ Remain not hidden!
+ Air! light!
+ Woe's thee!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
+ Quem patronum rogaturus!
+ Cum vix justus sit securus._
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+ The glorified their faces turn
+ Away from thee!
+ Shudder the pure to reach
+ Their hands to thee!
+ Woe!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Quid sum miser tunc dicturus_--
+
+MARGARET
+
+Neighbor! your smelling bottle!
+
+[_She swoons away._]
+
+[Illustration: MARGARET'S DOWNFALL _From the Painting by Wilhelm von
+Kaulbach_]
+
+
+WALPURGIS-NIGHT
+
+THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. DISTRICT OF
+SCHIERKE AND ELEND
+
+FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A broomstick dost thou not at least desire?
+The roughest he-goat fain would I bestride,
+By this road from our goal we're still far wide.
+
+FAUST
+
+While fresh upon my legs, so long I naught require,
+Except this knotty staff. Beside,
+What boots it to abridge a pleasant way?
+Along the labyrinth of these vales to creep,
+Then scale these rocks, whence, in eternal spray,
+Adown the cliffs the silvery fountains leap:
+Such is the joy that seasons paths like these!
+Spring weaves already in the birchen trees;
+E'en the late pine-grove feels her quickening powers;
+Should she not work within these limbs of ours?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Naught of this genial influence do I know!
+Within me all is wintry. Frost and snow
+I should prefer my dismal path to bound.
+How sadly, yonder, with belated glow
+Rises the ruddy moon's imperfect round,
+Shedding so faint a light, at every tread
+One's sure to stumble 'gainst a rock or tree!
+An Ignis Fatuus I must call instead.
+Yonder one burning merrily, I see.
+Holla! my friend! may I request your light?
+Why should you flare away so uselessly?
+Be kind enough to show us up the height!
+
+IGNIS FATUUS
+
+Through reverence, I hope I may subdue
+The lightness of my nature; true,
+Our course is but a zigzag one.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Ho! ho!
+So men, forsooth, he thinks to imitate!
+Now, in the devil's name, for once go straight!
+Or out at once your flickering life I'll blow.
+
+IGNIS FATUUS
+
+That you are master here is obvious quite;
+To do your will, I'll cordially essay;
+Only reflect! The hill is magic-mad tonight;
+And if to show the path you choose a meteor's light,
+You must not wonder should we go astray.
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, IGNIS FATUUS (_in alternate song_)
+
+ Through the dream and magic-sphere,
+ As it seems, we now are speeding;
+ Honor win, us rightly leading,
+ That betimes we may appear
+ In yon wide and desert region!
+
+ Trees on trees, a stalwart legion,
+ Swiftly past us are retreating,
+ And the cliffs with lowly greeting;
+ Rocks long-snouted, row on row,
+ How they snort, and how they blow!
+
+ Through the stones and heather springing,
+ Brook and brooklet haste below;
+ Hark the rustling! Hark the singing!
+ Hearken to love's plaintive lays;
+ Voices of those heavenly days--
+ What we hope, and what we love!
+ Like a tale of olden time,
+ Echo's voice prolongs the chime.
+ To-whit! To-who! It sounds more near;
+ Plover, owl, and jay appear,
+ All awake, around, above?
+ Paunchy salamanders too
+ Peer, long-limbed, the bushes through!
+ And, like snakes, the roots of trees
+ Coil themselves from rock and sand,
+ Stretching many a wondrous band,
+ Us to frighten, us to seize;
+ From rude knots with life embued,
+ Polyp-fangs abroad they spread,
+ To snare the wanderer! 'Neath our tread,
+ Mice, in myriads, thousand-hued,
+ Through the heath and through the moss!
+ And the fire-flies' glittering throng,
+ Wildering escort, whirls along,
+ Here and there, our path across.
+
+ Tell me, stand we motionless,
+ Or still forward do we press?
+ All things round us whirl and fly,
+ Rocks and trees make strange grimaces,
+ Dazzling meteors change their places--
+ How they puff and multiply!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now grasp my doublet--we at last
+A central peak have reached, which shows,
+If round a wondering glance we cast,
+How in the mountain Mammon glows.
+
+FAUST
+
+How through the chasms strangely gleams,
+A lurid light, like dawn's red glow,
+Pervading with its quivering beams,
+The gorges of the gulf below!
+Here vapors rise, there clouds float by,
+Here through the mist the light doth shine;
+Now, like a fount, it bursts on high,
+Meanders now, a slender line;
+Far reaching, with a hundred veins,
+Here through the valley see it glide;
+Here, where its force the gorge restrains,
+At once it scatters, far and wide;
+Anear, like showers of golden sand
+Strewn broadcast, sputter sparks of light:
+And mark yon rocky walls that stand
+Ablaze, in all their towering height!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Doth not Sir Mammon for this fête
+Grandly illume his palace! Thou
+Art lucky to have seen it; now,
+The boisterous guests, I feel, are coming straight.
+
+FAUST
+
+How through the air the storm doth whirl!
+Upon my neck it strikes with sudden shock.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Cling to these ancient ribs of granite rock,
+Else to yon depths profound it you will hurl.
+A murky vapor thickens night.
+Hark! Through the woods the tempests roar!
+The owlets flit in wild affright.
+Hark! Splinter'd are the columns that upbore
+The leafy palace, green for aye:
+The shivered branches whirr and sigh,
+Yawn the huge trunks with mighty groan,
+The roots, upriven, creak and moan!
+In fearful and entangled fall,
+One crashing ruin whelms them all,
+While through the desolate abyss,
+Sweeping the wreck-strewn precipice,
+The raging storm-blasts howl and hiss!
+Aloft strange voices dost thou hear?
+Distant now and now more near?
+Hark! the mountain ridge along,
+Streameth a raving magic-song!
+
+WITCHES (_in chorus_)
+
+ Now to the Brocken the witches hie,
+ The stubble is yellow, the corn is green;
+ Thither the gathering legions fly,
+ And sitting aloft is Sir Urian seen:
+ O'er stick and o'er stone they go whirling along,
+ Witches and he-goats, a motley throng.
+
+VOICES
+
+ Alone old Baubo's coming now;
+ She rides upon a farrow sow.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Honor to her, to whom honor is due!
+ Forward, Dame Baubo! Honor to you!
+ A goodly sow and mother thereon,
+ The whole witch chorus follows anon.
+
+VOICE
+
+Which way didst come?
+
+
+VOICE
+
+ O'er Ilsenstein!
+There I peep'd in an owlet's nest.
+With her broad eye she gazed in mine!
+
+VOICE
+
+Drive to the devil, thou hellish pest!
+Why ride so hard?
+
+VOICE
+
+ She has graz'd my side,
+Look at the wounds, how deep and how wide!
+
+WITCHES (_in chorus_)
+
+ The way is broad, the way is long;
+ What mad pursuit! What tumult wild!
+ Scratches the besom and sticks the prong;
+ Crush'd is the mother, and stifled the child.
+
+WIZARDS (_half chorus_)
+
+ Like house-encumber'd snail we creep;
+ While far ahead the women keep,
+ For when to the devil's house we speed,
+ By a thousand steps they take the lead.
+
+THE OTHER HALF
+
+ Not so, precisely do we view it;
+ They with a thousand steps may do it;
+ But let them hasten as they can,
+ With one long bound 'tis clear'd by man.
+
+VOICES (_above_)
+
+Come with us, come with us from Felsensee.
+
+VOICES (_from below_)
+
+Aloft to you we would mount with glee!
+We wash, and free from all stain are we,
+Yet barren evermore must be!
+
+BOTH CHORUSES
+
+ The wind is hushed, the stars grow pale,
+ The pensive moon her light doth veil;
+ And whirling on, the magic choir
+ Sputters forth sparks of drizzling fire.
+
+VOICE (_from below_)
+
+Stay! stay!
+
+VOICE (_from above_)
+
+ What voice of woe
+Calls from the cavern'd depths below?
+
+VOICE (_from below_)
+
+Take me with you! Oh take me too!
+Three centuries I climb in vain,
+And yet can ne'er the summit gain!
+To be with my kindred I am fain.
+
+BOTH CHORUSES
+
+ Broom and pitch-fork, goat and prong,
+ Mounted on these we whirl along;
+ Who vainly strives to climb tonight,
+ Is evermore a luckless wight!
+
+DEMI-WITCH (_below_)
+
+I hobble after, many a day;
+Already the others are far away!
+No rest at home can I obtain--
+Here too my efforts are in vain!
+
+CHORUS OF WITCHES
+
+ Salve gives the witches strength to rise;
+ A rag for a sail does well enough;
+ A goodly ship is every trough;
+ Tonight who flies not, never flies.
+
+BOTH CHORUSES
+
+ And when the topmost peak we round,
+ Then alight ye on the ground;
+ The heath's wide regions cover ye
+ With your mad swarms of witchery!
+
+[_They let themselves down._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+They crowd and jostle, whirl and flutter!
+They whisper, babble, twirl, and splutter!
+They glimmer, sparkle, stink and flare--
+A true witch-element! Beware!
+Stick close! else we shall severed be.
+Where art thou?
+
+FAUST (_in the distance_)
+
+ Here!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Already, whirl'd so far away!
+The master then indeed I needs must play.
+Give ground! Squire Voland comes! Sweet folk, give ground!
+Here, doctor, grasp me! With a single bound
+Let us escape this ceaseless jar;
+Even for me too mad these people are.
+Hard by there shineth something with peculiar glare,
+Yon brake allureth me; it is not far;
+Come, come along with me! we'll slip in there.
+
+FAUST
+
+Spirit of contradiction! Lead! I'll follow straight!
+'Twas wisely done, however, to repair
+On May-night to the Brocken, and when there,
+By our own choice ourselves to isolate!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Mark, of those flames the motley glare!
+A merry club assembles there.
+In a small circle one is not alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+I'd rather be above, though, I must own!
+Already fire and eddying smoke I view;
+The impetuous millions to the devil ride;
+Full many a riddle will be there untied.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay! and full many a riddle tied anew.
+But let the great world rave and riot!
+Here will we house ourselves in quiet.
+A custom 'tis of ancient date,
+Our lesser worlds within the great world to create!
+Young witches there I see, naked and bare,
+And old ones, veil'd more prudently.
+For my sake only courteous be!
+The trouble small, the sport is rare.
+Of instruments I hear the cursed din--
+One must get used to it. Come in! come in!
+There's now no help for it. I'll step before,
+And introducing you as my good friend,
+Confer on you one obligation more.
+How say you now? 'Tis no such paltry room;
+Why only look, you scarce can see the end.
+A hundred fires in rows disperse the gloom;
+They dance, they talk, they cook, make love, and drink:
+Where could we find aught better, do you think?
+
+FAUST
+
+To introduce us, do you purpose here
+As devil or as wizard to appear?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Though I am wont indeed to strict incognito,
+Yet upon gala-days one must one's orders show.
+No garter have I to distinguish me,
+Nathless the cloven foot doth here give dignity.
+Seest thou yonder snail? Crawling this way she hies;
+With searching feelers, she, no doubt,
+Hath me already scented out;
+Here, even if I would, for me there's no disguise.
+From fire to fire, we'll saunter at our leisure,
+The gallant you, I'll cater for your pleasure.
+
+(_To a party seated round, some expiring embers_)
+
+Old gentleman, apart, why sit ye moping here?
+Ye in the midst should be of all this jovial cheer,
+Girt round with noise and youthful riot;
+At home one surely has enough of quiet.
+
+GENERAL
+
+In nations put his trust, who may,
+Whate'er for them one may have done;
+For with the people, as with women, they
+Honor your rising stars alone!
+
+MINISTER
+
+Now all too far they wander from the right;
+I praise the good old ways, to them I hold,
+Then was the genuine age of gold,
+When we ourselves were foremost in men's sight.
+
+PARVENU
+
+Ne'er were we 'mong your dullards found,
+And what we ought not, that to do were fair;
+Yet now are all things turning round and round,
+When on firm basis we would them maintain.
+
+AUTHOR
+
+Who, as a rule, a treatise now would care
+To read, of even moderate sense?
+As for the rising generation, ne'er
+Has youth displayed such arrogant pretense.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_suddenly appearing very old_)
+
+Since for the last time I the Brocken scale,
+That folk are ripe for doomsday, now one sees;
+And just because my cask begins to fail,
+So the whole world is also on the lees.
+
+HUCKSTER-WITCH
+
+Stop, gentlemen, nor pass me by,
+Of wares I have a choice collection:
+Pray honor them with your inspection.
+Lose not this opportunity!
+Yet nothing in my booth you'll find
+Without its counterpart on earth; there's naught,
+Which to the world, and to mankind,
+Hath not some direful mischief wrought.
+No dagger here, which hath not flow'd with blood,
+No chalice, whence, into some healthy frame
+Hath not been poured hot poison's wasting flood.
+No trinket, but hath wrought some woman's shame,
+No weapon but hath cut some sacred tie,
+Or from behind hath stabb'd an enemy.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gossip! For wares like these the time's gone by,
+What's done is past! what's past is done!
+With novelties your booth supply;
+Us novelties attract alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+May this wild scene my senses spare!
+This, may in truth be called a fair!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Upward the eddying concourse throng;
+Thinking to push, thyself art push'd along.
+
+FAUST
+
+Who's that, pray?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Mark her well! That's Lilith.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Who?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Adam's first wife. Of her rich locks beware!
+That charm in which she's parallel'd by few,
+When in its toils a youth she doth ensnare
+He will not soon escape, I promise you.
+
+FAUST
+
+There sit a pair, the old one with the young;
+Already they have bravely danced and sprung!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Here there is no repose today.
+Another dance begins; we'll join it, come away!
+
+FAUST (_dancing with the young one_)
+
+ Once a fair vision came to me;
+ Therein I saw an apple-tree,
+ Two beauteous apples charmed mine eyes;
+ I climb'd forthwith to reach the prize.
+
+THE FAIR ONE
+
+ Apples still fondly ye desire,
+ From paradise it hath been so.
+ Feelings of joy my breast inspire
+ That such too in my garden grow.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_with the old one_)
+
+ Once a weird vision came to me;
+ Therein I saw a rifted tree.
+ It had a.....;
+ But as it was it pleased me too.
+
+THE OLD ONE
+
+ I beg most humbly to salute
+ The gallant with the cloven foot!
+ Let him ... have ready here,
+ If he a ... does not fear.
+
+PROCTOPHANTASMIST
+
+Accursed mob! How dare ye thus to meet?
+Have I not shown and demonstrated too,
+That ghosts stand not on ordinary feet?
+Yet here ye dance, as other mortals do!
+
+THE FAIR ONE (_dancing_)
+
+Then at our ball, what doth he here?
+
+FAUST (_dancing_)
+
+Oh! He must everywhere appear.
+He must adjudge, when others dance;
+If on each step his say's not said,
+So is that step as good as never made.
+He's most annoyed, so soon as we advance;
+If ye would circle in one narrow round.
+As he in his old mill, then doubtless he
+Your dancing would approve,--especially
+If ye forthwith salute him with respect profound!
+
+PROCTOPHANTASMIST
+
+Still here! what arrogance! unheard of quite!
+Vanish; we now have fill'd the world with light!
+Laws are unheeded by the devil's host;
+Wise as we are, yet Tegel hath its ghost!
+How long at this conceit I've swept with all my might,
+Lost is the labor: 'tis unheard of quite!
+
+THE FAIR ONE
+
+Cease here to tease us any more, I pray.
+
+PROCTOPHANTASMIST
+
+Spirits, I plainly to your face declare:
+No spiritual control myself will bear,
+Since my own spirit can exert no sway.
+
+[_The dancing continues._]
+
+Tonight, I see, I shall in naught succeed;
+But I'm prepar'd my travels to pursue,
+And hope, before my final step indeed,
+To triumph over bards and devils too.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now in some puddle will he take his station,
+Such is his mode of seeking consolation;
+Where leeches, feasting on his rump, will drain
+Spirits alike and spirit from his brain.
+
+(_To_ FAUST, _who has left the dance_)
+
+But why the charming damsel leave, I pray,
+Who to you in the dance so sweetly sang?
+
+FAUST
+
+Ah! in the very middle of her lay,
+Out of her mouth a small red mouse there sprang.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Suppose there did! One must not be too nice.
+'Twas well it was not gray, let that suffice.
+Who 'mid his pleasures for a trifle cares?
+
+FAUST
+
+Then saw I--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ What?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Mephisto, seest thou there
+Standing far off, a lone child, pale and fair!
+Slow from the spot her drooping form she tears,
+And seems with shackled feet to move along;
+I own, within me the delusion's strong,
+That she the likeness of my Gretchen wears.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gaze not upon her! 'Tis not good! Forbear!
+'Tis lifeless, magical, a shape of air,
+An idol. Such to meet with, bodes no good;
+That rigid look of hers doth freeze man's blood,
+And well-nigh petrifies his heart to stone:--
+The story of Medusa thou hast known.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay, verily! a corpse's eyes are those,
+Which there was no fond loving hand to close.
+That is the bosom I so fondly press'd,
+That my sweet Gretchen's form, so oft caress'd!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Deluded fool! 'Tis magic, I declare!
+To each she doth his lov'd one's image wear.
+
+FAUST
+
+What bliss! what torture! vainly I essay
+To turn me from that piteous look away.
+How strangely doth a single crimson line
+Around that lovely neck its coil entwine,
+It shows no broader than a knife's blunt edge!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Quite right. I see it also, and allege
+That she beneath her arm her head can bear,
+Since Perseus cut it off.--But you I swear
+Are craving for illusions still!
+Come then, ascend yon little hill!
+As on the Prater all is gay,
+And if my senses are not gone,
+I see a theatre,--what's going on?
+
+SERVIBILIS
+
+They are about to recommence;--the play,
+Will be the last of seven, and spick-span new--
+'Tis usual here that number to present.
+A dilettante did the piece invent,
+And dilettanti will enact it too.
+Excuse me, gentlemen; to me's assign'd,
+As dilettante to uplift the curtain.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You on the Blocksberg I'm rejoiced to find,
+That 'tis your most appropriate sphere is certain.
+
+WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM; OR, OBERON AND
+TITANIA'S GOLDEN WEDDING-FEAST
+
+
+INTERMEZZO
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THEATRE
+
+
+MANAGER
+
+  Vales, where mists still shift and play,
+   To ancient hill succeeding,--
+  These our scenes;--so we, today,
+   May rest, brave sons of Mieding.
+
+  HERALD
+
+  That the marriage golden be,
+   Must fifty years be ended;
+  More dear this feast of gold to me,
+   Contention now suspended.
+
+  OBERON
+
+  Spirits, if present, grace the scene,
+   And if with me united,
+  Then gratulate the king and queen,
+   Their troth thus newly plighted!
+
+  PUCK
+
+  Puck draws near and wheels about,
+   In mazy circles dancing!
+  Hundreds swell his joyous shout,
+   Behind him still advancing.
+
+  ARIEL
+
+  Ariel wakes his dainty air,
+   His lyre celestial stringing.--
+  Fools he lureth, and the fair,
+   With his celestial singing.
+
+  OBERON
+
+  Wedded ones, would ye agree,
+   We court your imitation:
+  Would ye fondly love as we,
+   We counsel separation.
+
+  TITANIA
+
+  If husband scold and wife retort,
+   Then bear them far asunder;
+  Her to the burning south transport,
+   And him the North Pole under.
+
+  THE WHOLE ORCHESTRA (_fortissimo_)
+
+  Flies and midges all unite
+   With frog and chirping cricket,
+  Our orchestra throughout the night,
+   Resounding in the thicket!
+
+  (_Solo_)
+
+  Yonder doth the bagpipe come!
+   Its sack an airy bubble.
+  Schnick, schnick, schnack, with nasal hum,
+   Its notes it doth redouble.
+
+  EMBRYO SPIRIT
+
+  Spider's foot and midge's wing,
+   A toad in form and feature;
+  Together verses it can string,
+   Though scarce a living creature.
+
+  A LITTLE PAIR
+
+  Tiny step and lofty bound,
+   Through dew and exhalation;
+  Ye trip it deftly on the ground,
+   But gain no elevation.
+
+  INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER
+
+  Can I indeed believe my eyes?
+   Is't not mere masquerading?
+  What! Oberon in beauteous guise,
+   Among the groups parading!
+
+  ORTHODOX
+
+  No claws, no tail to whisk about,
+   To fright us at our revel;
+  Yet like the gods of Greece, no doubt,
+   He too's a genuine devil.
+
+  NORTHERN ARTIST
+
+  These that I'm hitting off today
+   Are sketches unpretending;
+  Toward Italy without delay,
+   My steps I think of bending.
+
+  PURIST
+
+  Alas! ill-fortune leads me here,
+   Where riot still grows louder;
+  And 'mong the witches gather'd here,
+   But two alone wear powder!
+
+  YOUNG WITCH
+
+  Your powder and your petticoat,
+   Suit hags, there's no gainsaying;
+  Hence I sit fearless on my goat,
+   My naked charms displaying.
+
+  MATRON
+
+  We're too well-bred to squabble here,
+   Or insult back to render;
+  But may you wither soon, my dear,
+   Although so young and tender.
+
+  LEADER OF THE BAND
+
+  Nose of fly and gnat's proboscis,
+   Throng not the naked beauty!
+  Frogs and crickets in the mosses,
+   Keep time and do your duty!
+
+  WEATHERCOCK (_toward one side_)
+
+  What charming company I view
+   Together here collected!
+  Gay bachelors, a hopeful crew,
+   And brides so unaffected!
+
+  WEATHERCOCK (_toward the other side_)
+
+  Unless indeed the yawning ground
+   Should open to receive them,
+  From this vile crew, with sudden bound,
+   To Hell I'd jump and leave them.
+
+  XENIEN
+
+  With small sharp shears, in insect guise,
+   Behold us at your revel!
+  That we may tender, filial-wise,
+   Our homage to the devil.
+
+
+  HENNINGS
+
+  Look now at yonder eager crew,
+   How naïvely they're jesting!
+  That they have tender hearts and true,
+   They stoutly keep protesting!
+
+
+  MUSAGET
+
+  Oneself amid this witchery
+   How pleasantly one loses;
+  For witches easier are to me
+   To govern than the Muses!
+
+
+  CI-DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE
+
+  With proper folks when we appear,
+   No one can then surpass us!
+  Keep close, wide is the Blocksberg here
+   As Germany's Parnassus.
+
+  INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER
+
+  How name ye that stiff formal man,
+   Who strides with lofty paces?
+  He tracks the game where'er he can,
+   "He scents the Jesuits' traces."
+
+  CRANE
+
+  Where waters troubled are or clear,
+   To fish I am delighted;
+  Thus pious gentlemen appear
+   With devils here united.
+
+  WORLDLING
+
+  By pious people, it is true,
+   No medium is rejected;
+  Conventicles, and not a few,
+   On Blocksberg are erected.
+
+  DANCER
+
+  Another chorus now succeeds,
+   Far off the drums are beating.
+  Be still! The bitterns 'mong the reeds
+   Their one note are repeating.
+
+  DANCING MASTER
+
+  Each twirls about and never stops,
+   And as he can he fareth.
+  The crooked leaps, the clumsy hops,
+   Nor for appearance careth.
+
+  FIDDLER
+
+  To take each other's life, I trow,
+   Would cordially delight them!
+  As Orpheus' lyre the beasts, so now
+   The bagpipe doth unite them.
+
+  DOGMATIST
+
+  My views, in spite of doubt and sneer,
+   I hold with stout persistence,
+  Inferring from the devils here,
+   The evil one's existence.
+
+  IDEALIST
+
+  My every sense rules Phantasy
+   With sway quite too potential;
+  Sure I'm demented if the _I_
+   Alone is the essential.
+
+  REALIST
+
+  This entity's a dreadful bore,
+   And cannot choose but vex me;
+  The ground beneath me ne'er before
+   Thus totter'd to perplex me.
+
+  SUPERNATURALIST
+
+  Well pleased assembled here I view
+   Of spirits this profusion;
+  From devils, touching angels too,
+   I gather some conclusion.
+
+  SCEPTIC
+
+  The ignis fatuus they track out,
+   And think they're near the treasure.
+  Devil alliterates with doubt,
+   Here I abide with pleasure.
+
+  LEADER OF THE BAND
+
+  Frog and cricket in the mosses,--
+  Confound your gasconading!
+  Nose of fly and gnat's proboscis;--
+  Most tuneful serenading!
+
+  THE KNOWING ONES
+
+  Sans souci, so this host we greet,
+   Their jovial humor showing;
+  There's now no walking on our feet,
+   So on our heads we're going.
+
+  THE AWKWARD ONES
+
+  In seasons past we snatch'd, 'tis true,
+   Some tit-bits by our cunning;
+  Our shoes, alas, are now danced through,
+   On our bare soles we're running.
+
+  WILL-O'-THE-WISPS
+
+  From marshy bogs we sprang to light,
+   Yet here behold us dancing;
+  The gayest gallants of the night,
+   In glitt'ring rows advancing.
+
+  SHOOTING STAR
+
+  With rapid motion from on high,
+   I shot in starry splendor;
+  Now prostrate on the grass I lie;--
+   Who aid will kindly render?
+
+  THE MASSIVE ONES
+
+  Room! wheel round! They're coming! lo!
+   Down sink the bending grasses.
+  Though spirits, yet their limbs, we know,
+   Are huge substantial masses.
+
+   PUCK
+
+  Don't stamp so heavily, I pray;
+   Like elephants you're treading!
+  And 'mong the elves be Puck today,
+   The stoutest at the wedding!
+
+  ARIEL
+
+  If nature boon, or subtle sprite,
+   Endow your soul with pinions;--
+  Then follow to you rosy height,
+   Through ether's calm dominions!
+
+  ORCHESTRA (_pianissimo_)
+
+  Drifting cloud and misty wreathes
+   Are fill'd with light elysian;
+  O'er reed and leaf the zephyr breathes--
+   So fades the fairy vision!
+
+
+A GLOOMY DAY. A PLAIN
+
+FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+
+FAUST
+
+In misery! despairing! long wandering pitifully on the face of the
+earth and now imprisoned! This gentle hapless creature, immured in the
+dungeon as a malefactor and reserved for horrid tortures! That it
+should come to this! To this!--Perfidious, worthless spirit, and this
+thou hast concealed from me!--Stand! ay, stand! roll in malicious rage
+thy fiendish eyes! Stand and brave me with thine insupportable
+presence! Imprisoned! In hopeless misery! Delivered over to the power
+of evil spirits and the judgment of unpitying humanity!--And me, the
+while, thou went lulling with tasteless dissipations, concealing from
+me her growing anguish, and leaving her to perish without help!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+She is not the first.
+
+FAUST
+
+Hound! Execrable monster!--Back with him, oh thou infinite spirit!
+back with the reptile into his dog's shape, in which it was his wont
+to scamper before me at eventide, to roll before the feet of the
+harmless wanderer, and to fasten on his shoulders when he fell! Change
+him again into his favorite shape, that he may crouch on his belly
+before me in the dust, whilst I spurn him with my foot, the
+reprobate!--Not the first!--Woe! Woe! By no human soul is it
+conceivable, that more than one human creature has ever sunk into a
+depth of wretchedness like this, or that the first in her writhing
+death-agony should not have atoned in the sight of all-pardoning
+Heaven for the guilt of all the rest! The misery of this one pierces
+me to the very marrow, and harrows up my soul; thou art grinning
+calmly over the doom of thousands!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now we are once again at our wit's end, just where the reason of you
+mortals snaps! Why dost thou seek our fellowship, if thou canst not go
+through with it? Wilt fly, and art not proof against dizziness? Did we
+force ourselves on thee, or thou on us?
+
+FAUST
+
+Cease thus to gnash thy ravenous fangs at me! I loathe thee!--Great
+and glorious spirit, thou who didst vouchsafe to reveal thyself unto
+me, thou who dost know my very heart and soul, why hast thou linked me
+with this base associate, who feeds on mischief and revels in
+destruction?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Hast done?
+
+FAUST
+
+Save her!--or woe to thee! The direst of curses on thee for thousands
+of years!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I cannot loose the bands of the avenger, nor withdraw his bolts.--Save
+her!--Who was it plunged her into perdition? I or thou?
+
+FAUST (_looks wildly around_)
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Would'st grasp the thunder? Well for you, poor mortals, that 'tis not
+yours to wield! To smite to atoms the being, however innocent, who
+obstructs his path, such is the tyrant's fashion of relieving himself
+in difficulties!
+
+FAUST
+
+Convey me thither! She shall be free!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And the danger to which thou dost expose thyself? Know, the guilt of
+blood, shed by thy hand, lies yet upon the town. Over the place where
+fell the murdered one, avenging spirits hover and watch for the
+returning murderer.
+
+FAUST
+
+This too from thee? The death and downfall of a world be on thee,
+monster! Conduct me thither, I say and set her free!
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I will conduct thee. And what I can do,--hear! Have I all power in
+heaven and upon earth? I'll cloud the senses of the warder,--do thou
+possess thyself of the keys and lead her forth with human hand! I will
+keep watch! The magic steeds are waiting, I bear thee off. Thus much
+is in my power.
+
+FAUST
+
+Up and away!
+
+
+NIGHT. OPEN COUNTRY
+
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+(_Rushing along on black horses_)
+
+FAUST
+
+What weave they yonder round the Ravenstone?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I know not what they shape and brew.
+
+FAUST
+
+They're soaring, swooping, bending, stooping.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A witches' pack.
+
+FAUST
+
+ They charm, they strew.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+               On! On!
+
+
+DUNGEON
+
+FAUST (_with a bunch of keys and a lamp before a small iron door_)
+
+A fear unwonted o'er my spirit falls;
+Man's concentrated woe o'erwhelms me here!
+She dwells immur'd within these dripping walls;
+Her only trespass a delusion dear!
+Thou lingerest at the fatal door?
+Thou dread'st to see her face once more?
+On! While thou dalliest, draws her death-hour near.
+
+[_He seizes the lock. Singing within._]
+
+ My mother, the harlot,
+ She took me and slew!
+ My father, the scoundrel,
+ Hath eaten me too!
+ My sweet little sister
+ Hath all my bones laid,
+ Where soft breezes whisper
+ All in the cool shade!
+ Then became I a wood-bird, and sang on the spray,
+ Fly away! little bird, fly away! fly away!
+
+FAUST (_opening the lock_)
+
+Ah! she forebodes not that her lover's near,
+The clanking chains, the rustling straw, to hear.
+                              [_He enters._]
+
+MARGARET (_hiding her face in the bed of straw_)
+
+Woe! woe! they come! oh bitter 'tis to die!
+
+FAUST (_Softly_)
+
+Hush! hush! be still! I come to set thee free.
+
+MARGARET (_throwing herself at his feet_)
+
+If thou art human, feel my misery!
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou wilt awake the jailer with thy cry!
+
+[_He grasps the chains to unlock them._]
+
+MARGARET (_on her knees_)
+
+Who, headsman, unto thee this power
+O'er me could give?
+Thou com'st for me at midnight-hour.
+Be merciful, and let me live!
+Is morrow's dawn not time enough?
+                   [_She stands up._]
+
+I'm still so young, so young--
+And must so early die!
+Fair was I too, and that was my undoing.
+My love is now afar, he then was nigh;
+Tom lies the garland, the fair blossoms strew'd.
+Nay, seize me not with hand so rude!
+Spare me! What harm have I e'er done to thee?
+Oh let me not in vain implore!
+I ne'er have seen thee in my life before!
+
+FAUST
+
+Can I endure this bitter agony?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I now am at thy mercy quite.
+Let me my babe but suckle once again!
+I fondled it the live-long night;
+They took it from me but to give me pain,
+And now, they say that I my child have slain.
+Gladness I ne'er again shall know.
+Then they sing songs about me,--'tis wicked of the throng--
+An ancient ballad endeth so;
+Who bade them thus apply the song?
+
+FAUST (_throwing himself on the ground_)
+
+A lover at thy feet bends low,
+To loose the bonds of wretchedness and woe.
+
+MARGARET (_throws herself beside him_)
+
+Oh, let us kneel and move the saints by prayer!
+Look! look! yon stairs below,
+Under the threshold there,
+Hell's flames are all aglow!
+Beneath the floor,
+With hideous noise,
+The devils roar!
+
+FAUST (_aloud_)
+
+Gretchen! Gretchen!
+
+MARGARET (_listening_)
+
+That was my lov'd one's voice!
+
+[_She springs up, the chains fall off_.]
+
+Where is he? I heard him calling me.
+Free am I! There's none shall hinder me.
+To his neck will I fly,
+On his bosom will lie!
+Gretchen, he called!--On yon threshold he stood;
+Amidst all the howling of hell's fiery flood,
+The scoff and the scorn of its devilish crew,
+The tones of his voice, sweet and loving, I knew.
+
+FAUST
+
+'Tis I!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ 'Tis thou! O say so once again!
+                                    [_embracing him_.]
+'Tis he! 'Tis he! where's now the torturing pain?
+Where are the fetters? where the dungeon's gloom?
+'Tis thou! To save me thou art come!
+And I am sav'd!--
+Already now the street I see
+Where the first time I caught a glimpse of thee.
+There to the pleasant garden shade,
+Where I and Martha for thy coming stay'd.
+
+FAUST (_endeavoring to lead her away_)
+
+Come! come away!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Oh do not haste!
+I love to linger where thou stayest. [_caressing him_.]
+
+FAUST
+
+Ah haste! For if thou still delayest,
+Our lingering we shall both deplore.
+
+MARGARET
+
+How, dearest? canst thou kiss no more!
+So short a time away from me, and yet,
+To kiss thou couldst so soon forget!
+Why on thy neck so anxious do I feel--
+When formerly a perfect heaven of bliss
+From thy dear looks and words would o'er me steal?
+As thou wouldst stifle me thou then didst kiss!--
+Kiss me!
+Or I'll kiss thee!    [_She embraces him._]
+Woe! woe! Thy lips are cold,--
+Are dumb!
+Thy love where hast thou left?
+Who hath me of thy love bereft?
+
+[_She turns away from him._]
+
+FAUST
+
+Come! Follow me, my dearest love, be bold!
+I'll cherish thee with ardor thousand-fold;
+I but entreat thee now to follow me!
+
+MARGARET (_turning toward him_)
+
+And art thou he? and art thou really he?
+
+FAUST
+
+'Tis I! Oh come!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Thou wilt strike off my chain,
+And thou wilt take me to thine arms again.
+How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?--
+And dost thou know, love, whom thou wouldst set free?
+
+FAUST
+
+Come! come! already night begins to wane.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I sent my mother to her grave,
+I drown'd my child beneath the wave.
+Was it not given to thee and me--thee too?
+'Tis thou thyself! I scarce believe it yet.
+Give me thy hand! It is no dream! 'Tis true!
+Thine own dear hand!--But how is this? 'Tis wet!
+Quick, wipe it off! Meseems that yet
+There's blood thereon.
+Ah God! what hast thou done?
+Put up thy sword,
+I beg of thee!
+
+FAUST
+
+Oh, dearest, let the past forgotten be!
+Death is in every word.
+
+MARGARET
+
+No, thou must linger here in sorrow!
+The graves I will describe to thee,
+And thou to them must see
+Tomorrow:
+The best place give to my mother,
+Close at her side my brother,
+Me at some distance lay--
+But not too far away!
+And the little one place on my right breast.
+Nobody else will near me lie!
+To nestle beside thee so lovingly,
+That was a rapture, gracious and sweet!
+A rapture I never again shall prove;
+Methinks I would force myself on thee, love,
+And thou dost spurn me, and back retreat--
+Yet 'tis thyself, thy fond kind looks I see.
+
+FAUST
+
+If thou dost feel 'tis I, then come with me!
+
+MARGARET
+
+What, there? without?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Yes, forth in the free air.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Ay, if the grave's without,--If death lurk there!
+Hence to the everlasting resting-place,
+And not one step beyond!--Thou'rt leaving me?
+Oh Henry! would that I could go with thee!
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou canst! But will it! Open stands the door.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I dare not go! I've naught to hope for more.
+What boots it to escape? They lurk for me!
+'Tis wretched to beg, as I must do,
+And with an evil conscience thereto!
+'Tis wretched, in foreign lands to stray;
+And me they will catch, do what I may!
+
+FAUST
+
+With thee will I abide.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Quick! Quick!
+ Save thy poor child!
+ Keep to the path
+ The brook along,
+ Over the bridge
+ To the wood beyond,
+ To the left, where the plank is,
+ In the pond.
+ Seize it at once!
+ It fain would rise,
+ It struggles still!
+ Save it. Oh save!
+
+FAUST
+
+Dear Gretchen, more collected be!
+One little step, and thou art free!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Were we but only past the hill
+There sits my mother upon a stone--
+My brain, alas, is cold with dread!--
+There sits my mother upon a stone,
+And to and fro she shakes her head;
+She winks not, she nods not, her head it droops sore;
+She slept so long, she waked no more;
+She slept, that we might taste of bliss:
+Ah I those were happy times, I wis!
+
+FAUST
+
+Since here avails nor argument nor prayer,
+Thee hence by force I needs must bear.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Loose me! I will not suffer violence!
+With murderous hand hold not so fast!
+I have done all to please thee in the past!
+
+FAUST
+
+Day dawns! My love! My love!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Yes! day draws near,
+The day of judgment too will soon appear!
+It should have been my bridal! No one tell,
+That thy poor Gretchen thou hast known too well.
+Woe to my garland!
+Its bloom is o'er!
+Though not at the dance--
+We shall meet once more.
+The crowd doth gather, in silence it rolls;
+The squares, the streets,
+Scarce hold the throng.
+The staff is broken,--the death-bell tolls,--
+They bind and seize me! I'm hurried along,
+To the seat of blood already I'm bound!
+Quivers each neck as the naked steel
+Quivers on mine the blow to deal--
+The silence of the grave now broods around!
+
+FAUST
+
+Would I had ne'er been born!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_appears without_)
+
+Up! or you're lost.
+Vain hesitation! Babbling, quaking!
+My steeds are shivering,
+Morn is breaking.
+
+MARGARET
+
+What from the floor ascendeth like a ghost?
+'Tis he! 'Tis he! Him from my presence chase!
+What would he in this holy place?
+It is for me he cometh!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Thou shalt live!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Judgment of God! To thee my soul I give!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Come, come! With her I'll else abandon thee!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Father, I'm thine! Do thou deliver me!
+Ye angels! Ye angelic hosts! descend,
+Encamp around to guard me and defend!--
+Henry! I shudder now to look on thee!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+She now is judged!
+
+VOICES (_from above_)
+
+ Is saved!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+ Come thou with me!
+
+[_vanishes with_ FAUST.]
+
+
+VOICE (_from within, dying away_)
+
+Henry! Henry!
+
+
+
+END OF PART I.
+
+
+
+FAUST--SELECTIONS FROM PART II (1832)
+
+ACT THE FIRST
+
+A PLEASING LANDSCAPE
+
+
+FAUST, _reclining upon flowery turf, restless, seeking sleep_
+
+TWILIGHT
+
+_Circle of spirits, hovering, flit around;--Graceful, tiny forms_.
+
+ARIEL
+
+ _Song, accompanied by Æolian harps_
+ When, in vernal showers descending,
+ Blossoms gently veil the earth,
+ When the fields' green wealth, up-tending,
+ Gleams on all of mortal birth;
+ Tiny elves, where help availeth,
+ Large of heart, there fly apace;
+ Pity they whom grief assaileth,
+ Be he holy, be he base.
+
+Ye round this head on airy wing careering,
+Attend, in noble Elfin guise appearing;
+Assuage the cruel strife that rends his heart,
+The burning shaft remove of keen remorse,
+From rankling horror cleanse his inmost part:
+Four are the pauses of the nightly course;
+Them, without rest, fill up with kindly art.
+And first his head upon cool pillow lay,
+Then bathe ye him in dew from Lethe's stream;
+His limbs, cramp-stiffen'd, will more freely play,
+If sleep-refreshed he wait morn's wakening beam.
+
+Perform the noblest Elfin-rite,
+Restore ye him to the holy light!
+
+CHORUS (_singly, two or more, alternately and together_)
+
+ Softly when warm gales are stealing
+ O'er the green-environed ground,
+ Twilight sheddeth all-concealing
+ Mists and balmy odors round:
+ Whispers low sweet peace to mortals,
+ Rocks the heart to childlike rest,
+ And of day-light shuts the portals
+ To these eyes, with care oppressed.
+ Night hath now descended darkling,
+ Holy star is linked to star;
+ Sovereign fires, or faintly sparkling,
+ Glitter near and shine afar;
+ Glitter here lake-mirror'd, yonder
+ Shine adown the clear night sky;
+ Sealing bliss of perfect slumber,
+ Reigns the moon's full majesty.
+
+ Now the hours are cancelled; sorrow,
+ Happiness, have passed away:
+ Whole thou shalt be on the morrow!
+ Feel it! Trust the new-born day!
+ Swell the hills, green grow the valleys,
+ In the dusk ere breaks the morn;
+ And in silvery wavelets dallies,
+ With the wind, the ripening corn.
+
+ Cherish hope, let naught appall thee!
+ Mark the East, with splendor dyed!
+ Slight the fetters that enthrall thee;
+ Fling the shell of sleep aside!
+ Gird thee for the high endeavor;
+ Shun the crowd's ignoble ease!
+ Fails the noble spirit never,
+ Wise to think, and prompt to seize.
+
+[_A tremendous tumult announces the uprising of the Sun._]
+
+ARIEL
+
+ Hark, the horal tempest nears,
+ Sounding but for spirit ears,
+ Lo! the new-born day appears;
+ Clang the rocky portals, climb
+ Phoebus' wheels with thund'rous chime:
+ Breaks with tuneful noise the light!
+ Blare of trumpet, clarion sounding,
+ Eye-sight dazing, ear astounding!
+ Hear not the unheard; take flight!
+ Into petaled blossoms glide
+ Deeper, deeper, still to bide,
+ In the clefts, 'neath thickets! ye,
+ If it strike you, deaf will be.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Life's pulses reawakened freshly bound,
+ The mild ethereal twilight fain to greet.
+ Thou, Earth, this night wast also constant found,
+ And, newly-quickened, breathing at my feet,
+ Beginnest now to gird me with delight;
+ A strong resolve dost rouse, with noble heat
+ Aye to press on to being's sovereign height.
+ The world in glimmering dawn still folded lies;
+ With thousand-voicèd life the woods resound;
+ Mist-wreaths the valley shroud; yet from the skies
+ Sinks heaven's clear radiance to the depths profound;
+ And bough and branch from dewy chasms rise,
+ Where they had drooped erewhile in slumber furled;
+ Earth is enamelled with unnumber'd dyes,
+ Leaflet and flower with dew-drops are impearled;
+ Around me everywhere is paradise.
+
+Gaze now aloft! Each mountain's giant height
+The solemn hour announces, herald-wise;
+They early may enjoy the eternal light,
+To us below which later finds its way.
+Now are the Alpine slopes and valleys dight
+With the clear radiance of the new-born day,
+Which, downward, step by step, steals on
+apace.--It blazes forth,--and, blinded by the ray,
+With aching eyes, alas! I veil my face.
+So when a hope, the heart hath long held fast,
+Trustful, still striving toward its highest goal,
+Fulfilment's portals open finds at
+last;--Sudden from those eternal depths doth roll
+An over-powering flame;--we stand aghast!
+The torch of life to kindle we were
+fain;--A fire-sea,--what a fire!--doth round us close;
+Love is it? Is it hate? with joy and pain,
+In alternation vast, that round us glows?
+So that to earth we turn our wistful gaze,
+In childhood's veil to shroud us once again!
+
+So let the sun behind me pour its rays!
+The cataract, through rocky cleft that roars,
+I view, with growing rapture and amaze.
+From fall to fall, with eddying shock, it pours,
+In thousand torrents to the depths below,
+Aloft in air up-tossing showers of spray.
+But see, in splendor bursting from the storm,
+Arches itself the many-colored bow,
+And ever-changeful, yet continuous form,
+Now drawn distinctly, melting now away,
+Diffusing dewy coolness all around!
+Man's efforts there are glassed, his toil and strife;
+Reflect, more true the emblem will be found:
+This bright reflected glory pictures life!
+
+
+IMPERIAL PALACE. THRONE-ROOM
+
+_Council of State, in expectation of the_ EMPEROR
+
+TRUMPETS
+
+_Enter courtiers of every grade, splendidly attired. The
+Emperor ascends the throne; to the right the_ ASTROLOGER.
+
+
+EMPEROR
+
+ I greet you, trusty friends and dear,
+ Assembled thus from far and wide!--
+I see the wise man at my side,
+ But wherefore is the fool not here?
+
+PAGE
+
+ Entangled in thy mantle's flow.
+ He tripped upon the stair below;
+ The mass of fat they bare away,
+ If dead or drunken--who can say?
+
+SECOND PAGE
+
+ Forthwith another comes apace,
+ With wondrous speed to take his place;
+ Costly, yet so grotesque his gear,
+ All start amazed as he draws near.
+ Crosswise the guards before his face,
+ Entrance to bar, their halberds hold--
+ Yet there he is, the fool so bold.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_kneeling before the throne_)
+
+ What is accursed and gladly hailed?
+ What is desired and chased away?
+ What is upbraided and assailed?
+ What wins protection every day?
+ Whom darest thou not summon here?
+ Whose name doth plaudits still command?
+ What to thy throne now draweth near?
+ What from this place itself hath banned?
+
+EMPEROR
+
+ For this time thou thy words may'st spare!
+ This is no place for riddles, friend;
+ They are these gentlemen's affair,--
+ Solve them! an ear I'll gladly lend.
+ My old fool's gone, far, far away, I fear;
+ Take thou his place, come, stand beside me here!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _ascends and places himself at the_
+EMPEROR'S _left._]
+
+_Murmur of the Crowd_
+
+ Here's a new fool--for plague anew!
+ Whence cometh he?--How passed he through?
+ The old one fell--he squander'd hath.--
+ He was a tub--now 'tis a lath.--
+
+EMPEROR
+
+So now, my friends, beloved and leal,
+Be welcome all, from near and far!
+Ye meet 'neath an auspicious star;
+For us above are written joy and weal.
+But tell me wherefore, on this day,
+When we all care would cast away,
+And don the masker's quaint array,
+And naught desire but to enjoy,
+Should we with state affairs ourselves annoy?
+But if ye think it so must be indeed,
+Why, well and good, let us forthwith proceed!
+
+CHANCELLOR
+
+The highest virtue circles halo-wise
+Our Cæsar's brow; virtue, which from the throne,
+He validly can exercise alone:
+Justice!--What all men love and prize,
+What all demand, desire, and sorely want,
+It lies with him, this to the folk to grant.
+But ah! what help can intellect command,
+Goodness of heart, or willingness of hand,
+When fever saps the state with deadly power,
+And mischief breedeth mischief, hour by hour?
+To him who downward from this height supreme
+Views the wide realm, 'tis like a troubled dream,
+Where the deformed deformity o'ersways,
+Where lawlessness, through law, the tyrant plays,
+And error's ample world itself displays.
+
+One steals a woman, one a steer,
+Lights from the altar, chalice, cross,
+Boasts of his deed full many a year,
+Unscathed in body, without harm or loss.
+Now to the hall accusers throng;
+On cushioned throne the judge presides;
+Surging meanwhile in eddying tides,
+Confusion waxes fierce and strong.
+
+He may exalt in crime and shame,
+Who on accomplices depends;
+Guilty! the verdict they proclaim,
+When Innocence her cause defends.
+So will the world succumb to ill,
+And what is worthy perish quite;
+How then may grow the sense which still
+Instructs us to discern the right?
+E'en the right-minded man, in time,
+To briber and to flatterer yields;
+The judge, who cannot punish crime,
+Joins with the culprit whom he shields.--
+I've painted black, yet fain had been
+A veil to draw before the scene.
+
+_Pause_
+
+Measures must needs be taken; when
+All injure or are injured, then
+E'en Majesty becomes a prey.
+
+FIELD MARSHAL
+
+In these wild days what tumults reign!
+Each smitten is and smites again,
+Deaf to command, will none obey.
+The burgher, safe behind his wall,
+Within his rocky nest, the knight,
+Against us have conspired, and all
+Firmly to hold their own unite.
+Impatient is the hireling now,
+With vehemence he claims his due;
+And did we owe him naught, I trow,
+Off he would run, nor bid adieu.
+Who thwarts what fondly all expect,
+He bath disturbed a hornet's nest;
+The empire which they should protect,
+It lieth plundered and oppress'd.
+Their furious rage may none restrain;
+Already half the world's undone;
+Abroad there still are kings who reign--
+None thinks 'tis his concern, not one.
+
+TREASURER
+
+Who will depend upon allies!
+For us their promised subsidies
+Like conduit-water, will not flow.
+Say, Sire, through your dominions vast
+To whom hath now possession passed!
+Some upstart, wheresoe'er we go,
+Keeps house, and independent reigns.
+We must look on, he holds his own;
+So many rights away we've thrown,
+That for ourselves no right remains.
+On so-called parties in the state
+There's no reliance, now-a-days;
+They may deal out or blame or praise,
+Indifferent are love and hate.
+The Ghibelline as well as Guelph
+Retire, that they may live at ease!
+Who helps his neighbor now? Himself
+Each hath enough to do to please.
+Barred are the golden gates; while each
+Scrapes, snatches, gathers all within his reach--
+Empty, meanwhile, our chest remains.
+
+STEWARD
+
+What worry must I, also, bear!
+Our aim each day is still to spare--
+And more each day we need; my pains,
+Daily renewed, are never o'er.
+The cooks lack nothing;--deer, wild-boar,
+Stags, hares, fowls, turkeys, ducks and geese,--
+Tribute in kind, sure payment, these
+Come fairly in, and none complains.
+But now at last wine fails; and if of yore
+Up-piled upon the cellar-floor,
+Cask rose on cask, a goodly store,
+From the best slopes and vintage; now
+The swilling of our lords, I trow,
+Unceasing, drains the very lees.
+E'en the Town-council must give out
+Its liquor;--bowls and cups they seize;
+And 'neath the table lies the drunken rout.
+Now must I pay, whate'er betides;
+Me the Jew spares not; he provides
+Anticipation-bonds which feed
+Each year on that which must succeed;
+The swine are never fattened now;
+Pawned is the pillow or the bed,
+And to the table comes fore-eaten bread.
+
+EMPEROR (_after some reflection, to_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+Say, fool, another grievance knowest thou?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I, nowise. On this circling pomp to gaze,
+On thee and thine! There can reliance fail
+Where majesty resistless sways,
+And ready power makes foemen quail?
+Where loyal will, through reason strong,
+And prowess, manifold, unite,
+What could together join for wrong,
+For darkness, where such stars give light?
+
+_Murmur of the Crowd_
+
+ He is a knave--he comprehends--
+ He lies--while lying serves his ends--
+Full well I know--what lurks behind--
+What next?--Some scheme is in the wind!--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Where is not something wanting here on earth?
+Here this,--there that: of gold is here the dearth.
+It cannot from the floor be scrap'd, 'tis true;
+But what lies deepest wisdom brings to view.
+In mountain-veins, walls underground,
+Is gold, both coined and uncoined, to be found.
+And if ye ask me,--bring it forth who can?
+Spirit-and nature-power of gifted man.
+
+CHANCELLOR
+
+Nature and spirit--christians ne'er should hear
+Such words, with peril fraught and fear.
+These words doom atheists to the fire.
+Nature is sin, spirit is devil; they,
+Between them, doubt beget, their progeny,
+Hermaphrodite, mis-shapen, dire.
+Not so with us! Within our Cæsar's land
+Two orders have arisen, two alone,
+Who worthily support his ancient throne:
+Clergy and knights, who fearless stand,
+Bulwarks 'gainst every storm, and they
+Take church and state as their appropriate pay.
+Through lawless men, the vulgar herd
+To opposition have of late been stirred;
+The heretics these are, the wizards, who
+The city ruin and the country too.
+With thy bold jests, to this high sphere,
+Such miscreants wilt smuggle in;
+Hearts reprobate to you are dear;
+They to the fool are near of kin.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Herein your learned men I recognize!
+What you touch not, miles distant from you lies;
+What you grasp not, is naught in sooth to you;
+What you count not, cannot, you deem, be true;
+What you weigh not, that hath for you no weight;
+What you coin not, you're sure is counterfeit.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+Therewith our needs are not one whit the less.
+What meanest thou with this thy Lent-address?
+I'm tired of this eternal If and How.
+'Tis gold we lack; so good, procure it thou!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'll furnish more, ay, more than all you ask.
+Though light it seems, not easy is the task.
+There lies the gold, but to procure it thence,
+That is the art: who knoweth to commence?
+Only consider, in those days of terror,
+When human floods swamped land and folk together,
+How every one, how great soe'er his fear,
+All that he treasured most, hid there or here;
+So was it 'neath the mighty Roman's sway,
+So on till yesterday, ay, till today:
+That all beneath the soil still buried lies--
+The soil is Cæsar's, his shall be the prize.
+
+TREASURER
+
+Now for a fool he speaketh not amiss;
+Our Cæsar's ancient right, in sooth, was this.
+
+CHANCELLOR
+
+Satan for you spreads golden snares; 'tis clear,
+Something not right or pious worketh here.
+
+STEWARD
+
+To us at court if welcome gifts he bring,
+A little wrong is no such serious thing.
+
+FIELD MARSHAL
+
+Shrewd is the fool, he bids what all desire;
+The soldier, whence it comes, will not inquire.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You think yourselves, perchance, deceived by me;
+Ask the Astrologer! This man is he!
+Circle round circle, hour and house, he knows.--
+Then tell us, how the heavenly aspect shows.
+
+_Murmur of the Crowd_
+
+ Two rascals--each to other known--
+ Phantast and fool--so near the throne--
+ The old, old song,--now trite with age--
+ The fool still prompts--while speaks the sage.--
+
+ASTROLOGER (_speaks_, MEPHISTOPHELES _prompts_)
+
+The sun himself is purest gold; for pay
+And favor serves the herald, Mercury;
+Dame Venus hath bewitched you from above,
+Early and late, she looks on you with love;
+Chaste Luna's humor varies hour by hour;
+Mars, though he strike not, threats you with his power,
+And Jupiter is still the fairest star;
+Saturn is great, small to the eye and far;
+As metal him we slightly venerate,
+Little in worth, though ponderous in weight.
+Now when with Sol fair Luna doth unite.
+Silver with gold, cheerful the world and bright!
+Then easy 'tis to gain whate'er one seeks;
+Parks, gardens, palaces, and rosy cheeks;
+These things procures this highly learned man.
+He can accomplish what none other can.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+Double, methinks, his accents ring,
+And yet they no conviction bring.
+
+_Murmur_
+
+ Of what avail!--a worn-out tale--
+Calendery--and chemistry--
+I the false word--full oft have heard--
+And as of yore--we're hoax'd once more.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The grand discovery they misprize,
+As, in amaze, they stand around;
+One prates of gnomes and sorceries,
+Another of the sable hound.
+What matters it, though witlings rail,
+Though one his suit 'gainst witchcraft press,
+If his sole tingle none the less,
+If his sure footing also fail?
+Ye of all swaying Nature feel
+The secret working, never-ending,
+And, from her lowest depths up-tending,
+E'en now her living trace doth steal.
+If sudden cramps your limbs surprise,
+If all uncanny seem the spot--
+There dig and delve, but dally not!
+There lies the fiddler, there the treasure lies!
+
+_Murmur_
+
+  Like lead it lies my foot about--
+ Cramp'd is my arm--'tis only gout--
+ Twitchings I have in my great toe--
+ Down all my back strange pains I know--
+ Such indications make it clear
+ That sumless treasuries are here.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+To work--the time for flight is past.--
+Put to the test your frothy lies!
+These treasures bring before our eyes!
+Sceptre and sword aside I'll cast,
+And with these royal hands, indeed,
+If thou lie not, to work proceed.
+Thee, if thou lie, I'll send to hell!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Thither to find the way I know full well!--
+Yet can I not enough declare,
+What wealth unown'd lies waiting everywhere:
+The countryman, who ploughs the land,
+Gold-crocks upturneth with the mould;
+Nitre he seeks in lime-walls old,
+And findeth, in his meagre hand,
+Scared, yet rejoiced, rouleaus of gold.
+How many a vault upblown must be,
+Into what clefts, what shafts, must he
+Who doth of hidden treasure know,
+Descend, to reach the world below!
+In cellars vast, impervious made,
+Goblets of gold he sees displayed,
+Dishes and plates, row after row;
+There beakers, rich with rubies, stand;
+And would he use them, close at hand
+Well stored the ancient moisture lies;
+Yet--would ye him who knoweth, trust?--
+The staves long since have turned to dust,
+A tartar cask their place supplies!
+Not gold alone and jewels rare,
+Essence of noblest wines are there,
+In night and horror veiled. The wise,
+Unwearied here pursues his quest.
+To search by day, that were a jest;
+'Tis darkness that doth harbor mysteries.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+What can the dark avail? Look thou to that!
+If aught have worth, it cometh to the light.
+Who can detect the rogue at dead of night?
+Black are the cows, and gray is every cat.
+These pots of heavy gold, if they be there--
+Come, drive thy plough, upturn them with thy share!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Take spade and hoe thyself;--dig on--
+Great shalt thou be through peasant toil--
+A herd of golden calves anon
+Themselves shall tear from out the soil;
+Then straight, with rapture newly born,
+Thyself thou canst, thy sweet-heart wilt adorn.
+A sparkling gem, lustrous, of varied dye,
+Beauty exalts as well as majesty.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+To work, to work! How long wilt linger?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+                              Sire,
+Relax, I pray, such vehement desire!
+First let us see the motley, joyous show!
+A mind distraught conducts not to the goal.
+First must we calmness win through self-control,
+Through things above deserve what lies below.
+Who seeks for goodness, must himself be good;
+Who seeks for joy, must moderate his blood;
+Who wine desires, the luscious grape must press;
+Who craveth miracles, more faith possess.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+So be the interval in gladness spent!
+Ash-Wednesday cometh, to our heart's content.
+Meanwhile we'll solemnize, whate'er befall,
+More merrily the joyous Carnival.
+
+[_Trumpets. Exeunt._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+That merit and success are link'd together,
+This to your fools occurreth never;
+Could they appropriate the wise man's stone,
+That, not the wise man, they would prize alone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT THE SECOND
+
+HIGH-VAULTED, NARROW GOTHIC CHAMBER,
+FORMERLY FAUST'S, UNALTERED
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_stepping from behind a curtain. While
+he raises it and looks back_, FAUST _is seen, stretched
+upon an old-fashioned bed_)
+
+Lie there, ill-starred one! In love's chain,
+Full hard to loose, he captive lies!
+Not soon his senses will regain
+Whom Helena doth paralyze.
+
+(_Looking round_)
+
+Above, around, on every side
+I gaze, uninjured all remains:
+Dimmer, methinks, appear the color'd panes,
+The spiders' webs are multiplied,
+Yellow the paper, and the ink is dry;
+Yet in its place each thing I find;
+And here the very pen doth lie,
+Wherewith himself Faust to the Devil signed,
+Yea, quite dried up, and deeper in the bore,
+The drop of blood, I lured from him of yore--
+O'erjoyed to own such specimen unique
+Were he who objects rare is fain to seek--;
+Here on its hook hangs still the old fur cloak,
+Me it remindeth of that merry joke,
+When to the boy I precepts gave, for truth,
+Whereon, perchance, he's feeding now, as youth.
+The wish comes over me, with thee allied,
+Enveloped in thy worn and rugged folds,
+Once more to swell with the professor's pride!
+How quite infallible himself he holds;
+This feeling to obtain your savants know;
+The devil parted with it long ago.
+
+[_He shakes the fur cloak which he has taken down;
+crickets, moths, and chafers fly out._]
+
+CHORUS OF INSECTS
+
+ We welcome thy coming,
+ Our patron of yore!
+ We're dancing and humming,
+ And know thee once more.
+ Us singly, in silence,
+ Hast planted, and lo!
+ By thousands, oh Father,
+ We dance to and fro.
+ The rogue hides discreetly
+ The bosom within;
+ We looseskins fly rather
+ Forth from the fur skin.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+O'erjoyed I am my progeny to know!
+We're sure to reap in time, if we but sow.
+I shake the old fur-mantle as before,
+And here and there out flutters one or more.--
+Above, around, hasten, belovèd elves,
+In hundred thousand nooks to hide yourselves!
+'Mid boxes there of by-gone time,
+Here in these age-embrownèd scrolls,
+In broken potsherds, foul with grime,
+In yonder skulls' now eyeless holes!
+Amid such rotten, mouldering life,
+Must foolish whims for aye be rife.
+
+[_Slips into the fur mantle_.]
+
+Come shroud my shoulders as of yore!
+Today I'm principal once more;
+But useless 'tis, to bear the name:
+Where are the folk to recognize my claim?
+
+[_He pulls the bell, which emits a shrill penetrating
+sound, at which the halls shake and the doors
+spring open._]
+
+FAMULUS (_tottering up the long dark passage_)
+
+ What a clamor! What a quaking!
+ Stairs are rocking, walls are shaking:
+ Through the windows' quivering sheen,
+ Are the stormful lightnings seen;
+ Springs the ceiling,--thence, below,
+ Lime and mortar rattling flow:
+ And, though bolted fast, the door
+ Is undone by magic power!
+ There, in Faust's old fleece bedight,
+ Stands a giant,--dreadful sight!
+ At his glance, his beck, at me!
+ I could sink upon my knee.
+ Shall I fly, or shall I stay?
+ What will be my fate today?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Come hither, friend!--Your name is Nicodemus?
+
+FAMULUS
+
+Most honor'd Sir, such is my name.--Oremus!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+That we'll omit!
+
+FAMULUS
+
+           O joy, me you do not forget.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I know it well: old, and a student yet;
+My mossy friend, even a learned man
+Still studies on, because naught else he can:
+Thus a card-house each builds of medium height;
+The greatest spirit fails to build it quite.
+Your master, though, that title well may claim--
+The noble Doctor Wagner, known to fame,
+First in the learned world! 'Tis he, they say,
+Who holds that world together; every day
+Of wisdom he augments the store!
+Who crave omniscience, evermore
+In crowds upon his teaching wait;
+He from the rostrum shines alone;
+The keys doth like Saint Peter own,
+And doth of Hell and Heaven ope the gate;
+As before all he glows and sparkles,
+No fame, no glory but grows dim,
+Even the name of Faustus darkles!
+Inventor there is none like him.
+
+FAMULUS
+
+Pardon, most honor'd Sir, excuse me, pray--
+If I presume your utterance to gainsay--
+This bears not on the question any way;
+A modest mind is his allotted share.
+The disappearance, unexplained as yet,
+Of the great man, his mind doth sorely fret;
+Comfort from his return and health are still his prayer.
+The chamber, as in Doctor Faustus' day,
+Maintains, untouched, its former state,
+And for its ancient lord doth wait.
+Venture therein I scarcely may.
+What now the aspect of the stars?--
+Awe-struck the very walls appear;
+The door-posts quivered, sprang the bars--
+Else you yourself could not have entered here.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Where then bestowed himself hath he?
+Lead me to him! bring him to me!
+
+FAMULUS
+
+Alas! Too strict his prohibition,
+Scarce dare I, without his permission.
+Months, on his mighty work intent,
+Hath he, in strict seclusion spent.
+Most dainty 'mong your men of books,
+Like charcoal-burner now he looks,
+With face begrimed from ear to nose;
+His eyes are blear'd while fire he blows;
+Thus for the crisis still he longs;
+His music is the clang of tongs.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Admittance unto me deny?
+To hasten his success, the man am I.
+
+[_Exit_ FAMULUS. MEPHISTOPHELES _seats himself with a solemn air._]
+
+Scarce have I ta'en my post, when lo!
+Stirs from behind a guest, whom well I know;
+Of the most recent school, this time, is he,
+And quite unbounded will his daring be.
+
+BACCALAUREUS (_storming along the passage_)
+
+ Open find I door and gate!
+ Hope at last springs up elate,
+ That the living shall no more
+ Corpse-like rot, as heretofore,
+ And, while breathing living breath,
+ Waste and moulder as in death.
+
+ Here partition, screen, and wall
+ Are sinking, bowing to their fall,
+ And, unless we soon retreat,
+ Wreck and ruin us will greet.
+ Me, though bold, nor soon afraid,
+ To advance shall none persuade.
+ What shall I experience next?
+ Years ago, when sore perplexed,
+ Came I not a freshman here,
+ Full of anxious doubt and fear,
+ On these gray-beards then relied,
+ By their talk was edified?
+
+ What from musty tomes they drew,
+ They lied to me; the things they knew
+ Believed they not; with falsehood rife,
+ Themselves and me they robbed of life.
+ How?--Yonder is the murky glare,
+ There's one still sitting in the Chair--
+
+ Drawing near I wonder more--
+ Just as him I left of yore,
+ There he sits, in furry gown,
+ Wrapped in shaggy fleece, the brown!
+ Then he clever seemed, indeed,
+ Him as yet I could not read;
+ Naught will it avail today;
+ So have at him, straight-away!
+
+If Lethe's murky flood not yet hath passed,
+Old Sir, through your bald pate, that sideways bends,
+The scholar recognize, who hither wends,
+Outgrown your academic rods at last.
+The same I find you, as of yore;
+But I am now the same no more.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Glad am I that I've rung you here.
+ I prized you then not slightingly;
+ In grub and chrysalis appear
+ The future brilliant butterfly.
+ A childish pleasure then you drew
+ From collar, lace, and curls.--A queue
+ You probably have never worn?--
+ Now to a crop I see you shorn.
+ All resolute and bold your air--
+ But from the _absolute_ forbear!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+ We're in the ancient place, mine ancient Sir,
+ But think upon time's onward flow,
+ And words of double-meaning spare!
+ Quite otherwise we hearken now.
+ You fooled the simple, honest youth;
+ It cost but little art in sooth,
+ To do what none today will dare.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If to the young the naked truth one speaks,
+It pleases in no wise the yellow beaks;
+But afterward, when in their turn
+On their own skin the painful truth they learn,
+They think, forsooth, from their own head it came;
+"The master was a fool," they straight proclaim.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+A rogue perchance!--For where's the teacher found
+Who to our face, direct, will Truth expound?
+Children to edify, each knows the way,
+To add or to subtract, now grave, now gay.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+For learning there's in very truth a time;
+For teaching, I perceive, you now are prime.
+While a few suns and many moons have waned,
+A rich experience you have doubtless gained!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+Experience! Froth and scum alone,
+Not with the mind of equal birth!
+Confess! what men have always known,
+As knowledge now is nothing worth.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_after a pause_)
+
+I long have thought myself a fool;
+Now shallow to myself I seem, and dull.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+That pleases me! Like reason that doth sound;
+The first old man of sense I yet have found!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I sought for hidden treasures, genuine gold--
+And naught but hideous ashes forth I bore!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+Confess that pate of yours, though bare and old,
+Than yonder hollow skull is worth no more!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_good-naturedly_)
+
+Thou know'st not, friend, how rude is thy reply.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+In German to be courteous is to lie.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_still moving his wheel-chair ever nearer
+to the proscenium, to the pit_)
+
+Up here I am bereft of light and air;
+I perhaps shall find a refuge with you there?
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+When at their worst, that men would something be,
+When they are naught, presumptuous seems to me.
+Man's life is in the blood, and where, in sooth,
+Pulses the blood so strongly as in youth?
+That's living blood, which with fresh vigor rife,
+The newer life createth out of life.
+There all is movement, something there is done;
+Falleth the weak, the able presses on!
+While half the world we 'neath our sway have brought,
+What have ye done? Slept, nodded, dream'd, and thought,
+Plan after plan rejected;--nothing won.
+Age is, in sooth, a fever cold,
+With frost of whims and peevish need:
+When more than thirty years are told,
+As good as dead one is indeed:
+You it were best, methinks, betimes to slay.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The devil here has nothing more to say.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+Save through my will, no devil dares to be.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+The devil now prepares a fall for thee!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+The noblest mission this of youth's estate.
+The world was not, till it I did create;
+The radiant Sun I led from out the sea;
+Her changeful course the Moon began with me;
+The Day arrayed herself my steps to meet,
+The Earth grew green, and blossom'd me to greet:
+At my command, upon yon primal Night,
+The starry hosts unveiled their glorious light.
+Who, beside me, the galling chains unbound,
+Which cramping thought had cast your spirits round?
+But I am free, as speaks my spirit-voice,
+My inward light I follow, and rejoice;
+Swift I advance, enraptur'd, void of fear,
+Brightness before me, darkness in the rear. [_Exit._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Go, in thy pride, Original, thy way!--
+True insight would, in truth, thy spirit grieve!
+What wise or stupid thoughts can man conceive,
+Unponder'd in the ages passed away?--
+Yet we for him need no misgiving have;
+Changed will he be, when a few years are past;
+Howe'er absurdly may the must behave,
+Nathless it yields a wine at last.--
+
+(_To the younger part of the audience, who do not applaud._)
+
+Though to my words you're somewhat cold,
+Good children, me you don't offend;
+Reflect! The devil, he is old;
+Grow old then, him to comprehend!
+
+LABORATORY
+
+(_After the fashion of the middle ages; cumbrous, useless
+apparatus, for fantastic purposes_)
+
+WAGNER (_at the furnace_)
+
+ Soundeth the bell, the fearful clang
+ Thrills through these sooty walls; no more
+ Upon fulfilment waits the pang
+ Of hope or fear;--suspense is o'er;
+ The darknesses begin to clear,
+ Within the inmost phial glows
+ Radiance, like living coal, that throws,
+ As from a splendid carbuncle, its rays;
+ Athwart the gloom its lightning plays.
+ A pure white lustre doth appear;
+ O may I never lose it more!--
+ My God! what rattles at the door?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_entering_)
+
+ Welcome! As friend I enter here.
+
+WAGNER
+
+ Hail to the star that rules the hour!
+
+(_Softly_)
+
+On breath and utterance let a ban be laid!
+Soon will be consummate a work of power.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_in a whisper_)
+
+What is it, then?
+
+WAGNER
+ A man is being made.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A man? and pray what loving pair
+Have in your smoke-hole their abode?
+
+WAGNER
+
+Nay! Heaven forbid! As nonsense we declare
+The ancient procreative mode;
+The tender point, life's spring, the gentle strength
+That took and gave, that from within hath pressed,
+And seized, intent itself to manifest,
+The nearest first, the more remote at length,--
+This from its dignity is now dethron'd!
+The brute indeed may take delight therein,
+But man, by whom such mighty gifts are own'd,
+Must have a purer, higher origin.
+
+(_He turns to the furnace_)
+
+It flashes, see!--Now may we trustful hold,
+That if, of substances a hundred-fold,
+Through mixture,--for on mixture it depends--
+The human substance duly we compose,
+And then in a retort enclose,
+And cohobate; in still repose
+The work is perfected, our labor ends.
+
+(_Again turning to the furnace_)
+
+It forms! More clear the substance shows!
+Stronger, more strong, conviction grows!
+What Nature's mystery we once did style,
+That now to test, our reason tries,
+And what she organized erewhile,
+We now are fain to crystallize.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Who lives, doth much experience glean;
+By naught in this world will he be surprised;
+Already in my travel-years I've seen
+Full many a race of mortals crystallized.
+
+WAGNER (_still gazing intently on the phial_)
+
+It mounts, it glows, and doth together run,
+One moment, and the work is done!
+As mad, a grand design at first is view'd;
+But we henceforth may laugh at fate,
+And so a brain, with thinking-power embued,
+Henceforth your living thinker will create.
+
+(_Surveying the phial with rapture_)
+
+The glass resounds, with gracious power possessed;
+It dims, grows clear; living it needs must be!
+And now in form of beauty dressed,
+A dainty mannikin I see.
+What more can we desire, what more mankind?
+Unveiled is now what hidden was of late;
+Give ear unto this sound, and you will find,
+A voice it will become, articulate.--
+
+HOMUNCULUS (_in the phial, to_ WAGNER)
+
+Now, Fatherkin, how goes it? 'Twas no jest!
+Come, let me to thy heart be fondly pressed--
+Lest the glass break, less tight be thine embrace
+This is the property of things: the All
+Scarcely suffices for the natural;
+The artificial needs a bounded space.
+
+(_To_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+But thou, Sir Cousin, Rogue, art thou too here?
+At the right moment! Thee I thank. 'Tis clear
+To us a happy fortune leadeth thee;
+While I exist, still must I active be,
+And to the work forthwith myself would gird;
+Thou'rt skill'd the way to shorten.
+
+WAGNER
+
+                       Just one word!
+I oft have been ashamed that knowledge failed,
+When old and young with problems me assailed.
+For instance: no one yet could comprehend,
+How soul and body so completely blend,
+Together hold, as ne'er to part, while they
+Torment each other through the live-long day.
+So then--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+            Forbear! The problem solve for me,
+Why man and wife so wretchedly agree?
+Upon this point, my friend, thou'lt ne'er be clear;
+The mannikin wants work, he'll find it here.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+What's to be done?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_pointing to a side door_)
+
+               Yonder thy gifts display!
+
+WAGNER (_still gazing into the phial_)
+
+A very lovely boy, I needs must say!
+
+(_The side door opens_; FAUST _is seen stretched upon a
+couch_)
+
+HOMUNCULUS (_amazed_)
+
+Momentous!
+
+(_The phial slips from_ WAGNER's _hands, hovers over_
+FAUST, _and sheds a light upon him_)
+
+        Girt with beauty!--Water clear
+In the thick grove; fair women, who undress;
+Most lovely creatures!--grows their loveliness:
+But o'er the rest one shines without a peer,
+As if from heroes, nay from gods she came;
+In the transparent sheen her foot she laves;
+The tender life-fire of her noble frame
+She cools in yielding crystal of the waves.--
+Of swiftly moving wings what sudden noise?
+What plash, what plunge the liquid glass destroys?
+The maidens fly, alarmed; alone, the queen,
+With calm composure gazes on the scene;
+With womanly and proud delight, she sees
+The prince of swans press fondly to her knees,
+Persistent, tame; familiar now he grows.--
+But suddenly up-floats a misty shroud,
+And with thick-woven veil doth over-cloud
+The loveliest of all lovely shows.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Why thou in sooth canst everything relate!
+Small as thou art, as phantast thou art great.
+I can see nothing--
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ I believe it. Thou,
+Bred in the north, in the dark ages, how,
+In whirl of priesthood and knight-errantry,
+Have for such sights thy vision free!
+In darkness only thou'rt at home.
+
+(_Looking round_)
+
+Ye brown, repulsive blocks of stone,
+Arch-pointed, low, with mould o'ergrown!
+Should he awake, new care were bred,
+He on the spot would straight be dead.
+Wood-fountains, swans, fair nymphs undressed,
+Such was his dream, presageful, rare;
+In place like this how could he rest,
+Which I, of easy mood, scarce bear!
+Away with him!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I like your plan, proceed!
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+Command the warrior to the fight,
+The maiden to the dancers lead!
+They're satisfied, and all is right.
+E'en now a thought occurs, most bright;
+'Tis classical
+Walpurgis-night--Most fortunate! It suits his bent,
+So bring him straightway to his element!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of such I ne'er have heard, I frankly own.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+Upon your ear indeed how should it fall?
+Only romantic ghosts to you are known;
+Your genuine ghost is also classical.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+But whitherward to travel are we fain?
+Your antique colleagues are against my grain.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+North-westward, Satan, lies thy pleasure-ground;
+But, this time, we to the south-east are bound.--
+An ample vale Peneios floweth through,
+'Mid bush and tree its curving shores it laves;
+The plain extendeth to the mountain caves,
+Above it lies Pharsalus, old and new.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Alas! Forbear! For ever be eschewed
+Those wars of tyranny and servitude!
+I'm bored with them: for they, as soon as done,
+Straight recommence; and no one calls to mind
+That he in sooth is only played upon
+By Asmodeus, who still lurks behind.
+They battle, so 'tis said, for freedom's rights--
+More clearly seen, 'tis slave 'gainst slave who fights.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+Leave we to men their nature, quarrel-prone!
+Each must defend himself, as best he can,
+From boyhood up; so he becomes a man.
+The question here is, how to cure this one?
+
+(_Pointing to_ FAUST)
+
+Hast thou a means, here let it tested be;
+Canst thou do naught, then leave the task to me.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Full many a Brocken-piece I might essay,
+But bolts of heathendom foreclose the way.
+The Grecian folk were ne'er worth much, 'tis true,
+Yet with the senses' play they dazzle you;
+To cheerful sins the human heart they lure,
+While ours are reckoned gloomy and obscure.
+And now what next?
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ Of old thou wert not shy;
+And if I name Thessalian witches,--why,
+I something shall have said,--of that I'm sure.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_lustfully_)
+
+Thessalian witches--well! the people they
+Concerning whom I often have inquired.
+Night after night, indeed, with them to stay,
+That were an ordeal not to be desired;
+But for a trial trip--
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ The mantle there
+Reach hither, wrap it round the knight!
+As heretofore, the rag will bear
+Both him and thee; the way I'll light.
+
+WAGNER (_alarmed_)
+
+And I?
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ At home thou wilt remain,
+Thee most important work doth there detain;
+The ancient scrolls unfolding cull
+Life's elements, as taught by rule,
+And each with other then combine with care;
+Upon the _What_, more on the _How_, reflect!
+Meanwhile as through a piece of world I fare,
+I may the dot upon the "I" detect.
+Then will the mighty aim accomplish'd be;
+Such high reward deserves such striving;--wealth,
+Honor and glory, lengthen'd life, sound health,
+Knowledge withal and virtue--possibly.
+Farewell!
+
+WAGNER
+
+ Farewell! That grieves my heart full sore!
+I fear indeed I ne'er shall see thee more.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Now to Peneios forth we wend!
+ We must not slight our cousin's aid.
+
+ (_To the spectators_)
+
+ At last, in sooth, we all depend
+ On creatures we ourselves have made.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT THE THIRD
+
+BEFORE THE PALACE OF MENELAUS IN SPARTA
+
+_Enter_ HELENA, _with a chorus of captive Trojan women_
+PENTHALIS, _leader of the chorus_
+
+
+HELENA
+
+The much admired and much upbraided, Helena,
+From yonder strand I come, where erst we disembark'd,
+Still giddy from the roll of ocean's billowy surge,
+Which, through Poseidon's favor and through Euros' might,
+On lofty crested backs hither hath wafted us,
+From Phrygia's open field, to our ancestral bays.
+Yonder King Menelaus, glad of his return,
+With his brave men of war, rejoices on the beach.
+But oh, thou lofty mansion, bid me welcome home,
+Thou, near the steep decline, which Tyndareus, my sire,
+From Pallas' hill returning, here hath builded up;
+Which also was adorned beyond all Sparta's homes,
+What time with Clytemnestra, sister-like, I grew,
+With Castor, Pollux, too, playing in joyous sport.
+Wings of yon brazen portals, you I also hail!
+Through you, ye guest-inviting, hospitable gates,
+Hath Menelaus once, from many princes chosen,
+Shone radiant on my sight, in nuptial sort arrayed.
+Expand to me once more, that I the king's behest
+May faithfully discharge, as doth the spouse beseem.
+Let me within, and all henceforth behind remain,
+That, charged with doom, till now darkly hath round me stormed!
+For since, by care untroubled, I these sites forsook,
+Seeking Cythera's fane, as sacred wont enjoined,
+And by the spoiler there was seized, the Phrygian,
+Happened have many things, whereof men far and wide
+Are fain to tell, but which not fain to hear is he
+Of whom the tale, expanding, hath to fable grown.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Disparage not, oh glorious dame,
+ Honor'd possession of highest estate!
+ For sole unto thee is the greatest boon given;
+ The fame of beauty that all over-towers!
+ The hero's name before him resounds,
+ So strides he with pride;
+ Nathless at once the stubbornest yields
+ To beauty, the presence which all things subdues.
+
+HELENA
+
+Enough! I with my spouse, ship-borne, have hither sped,
+And to his city now by him before am sent.
+But what the thought he harbors, that I cannot guess.
+Come I as consort hither? Come I as a queen?
+Come I as victim for the prince's bitter pangs,
+And for the evils dire, long suffered by the Greeks?
+Conquered I am; but whether captive, know I not:
+For the Immortal Powers fortune and fame for me
+Have doomed ambiguous; direful ministers that wait
+On beauty's form, who even on this threshold here,
+With dark and threat'ning mien, stand bodeful at my side!
+Already, ere we left the hollow ship, my spouse
+Looked seldom on me, spake no comfortable word;
+As though he mischief brooded, facing me he sat.
+But now, when to Eurotas' deeply curving shores
+Steering our course, scarce had our foremost vessel's beak
+The land saluted, spake he, as by God inspired:
+"Here let my men of war, in ordered ranks, disbark;
+I marshal them, drawn up upon the ocean strand;
+But thou, pursue thy way, not swerving from the banks,
+Laden with fruit, that bound Eurotas' sacred stream,
+Thy coursers guiding o'er the moist enamelled meads,
+Until thou may'st arrive at that delightful plain,
+Where Lacedæmon, once a broad fruit-bearing field,
+By mountains stern surrounded lifteth now its walls.
+Set thou thy foot within the tower-crown'd princely house,
+Assemble thou the maids, whom I at parting left,
+And with them summon too the wise old stewardess.
+Bid her display to thee the treasures' ample store,
+As by thy sire bequeathed, and which, in peace and war,
+Increasing evermore, I have myself up-piled.
+All standing shalt thou find in ancient order; for,
+This is the prince's privilege, that to his home,
+When he returns at last, safe everything he finds,
+Each in its proper place, as he hath left it there.
+For nothing of himself the slave hath power to change."
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Oh gladden now, with glorious wealth,
+ Ever increasing, thine eye and heart!
+ For beautiful chains, the adornment of crowns,
+ Are priding themselves, in haughty repose;
+ But step thou in, and challenge them all,
+ They arm themselves straight;
+ I joy to see beauty contend for the prize,
+ With gold, and with pearls, and with jewels of price.
+
+HELENA
+
+Forthwith hath followed next this mandate of my lord:
+"Now when in order thou all things hast duly seen,
+As many tripods take, as needful thou may'st deem,
+And vessels manifold, which he at hand requires,
+Who duly would perform the sacrificial rite,
+The caldrons, and the bowls, and shallow altar-plates;
+Let purest water, too, from sacred fount be there,
+In lofty pitchers; further, store of season'd wood,
+Quick to accept the flame, hold thou in readiness;
+A knife, of sharpest edge, let it not fail at last.
+But I all other things to thy sole care resign."
+So spake he, urging me at once to part; but naught,
+Breathing the breath of life, the orderer appoints,
+That, to the Olympians' honor, he to slaughter doom'd:
+Suspicious seems it! yet, dismiss I further care;
+To the high Gods' decree be everything referred,
+Who evermore fulfil, what they in thought conceive;
+It may, in sooth, by men, as evil or as good
+Be counted, it by us, poor mortals, must be borne.
+Full oft the ponderous axe on high the priest hath raised,
+In consecration o'er the earth-bowed victim's neck.
+Nor could achieve the rite, for he was hinderèd,
+Or by approaching foe, or intervening God.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ What now will happen, canst thou not guess;
+ Enter, queen, enter thou in,
+ Strong of heart!
+ Evil cometh and good
+ Unexpected to mortals;
+ Though foretold, we credit it not.
+ Troya was burning, have we not seen
+ Death before us, terrible death!
+ And are we not here,
+ Bound to thee, serving with joy,
+ Seeing the dazzling sunshine of heaven,
+ And of earth too the fairest,
+ Kind one--thyself--happy are we!
+
+HELENA
+
+Come what come may! Whate'er impends, me it behoves
+To ascend, without delay, into the royal house,
+Long missed, oft yearned-for, well-nigh forfeited;
+Before mine eyes once more it stands, I know not how.
+My feet now bear me not so lightly as of yore,
+When up the lofty steps I, as a child, have sprung.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Fling now, O sisters, ye
+ Captives who mourn your lot,
+ All your sorrows far from you.
+ Share ye your mistress' joy!
+ Share ye Helena's joy,
+ Who to the dear paternal hearth,
+ Though returning full late in sooth,
+ Nathless with surer, firmer tread
+ Joyfully now approaches!
+ Praise ye the holy ones,
+ Happy restoring ones,
+ God's, the home-leaders, praise ye!
+ Soars the enfranchised one,
+ As upon out-spread wings,
+ Over the roughest fate, while in vain
+ Pines the captured one, yearning-fraught
+ Over the prison-battlements
+ Arms out-stretching, in anguish.
+
+ Nathless her a god hath seized,
+ The exiled one,
+ And from Ilion's wreck
+ Bare her hitherward back once more,
+ To the ancient, the newly-adornèd
+ Father-house,
+ After unspeakable
+ Pleasure and anguish,
+ Earlier youthful time,
+ Newly quicken'd, to ponder.
+
+PENTHALIS (_as leader of the chorus_)
+
+Forsake ye now of song the joy-surrounded path,
+As toward the portal-wings turn ye forthwith your gaze!
+What see I, sisters? Here, returneth not the queen?
+With step of eager haste, comes she not back to us?--
+What is it, mighty queen, that in the palace-halls,
+Instead of friendly hail, could there encounter thee,
+And shatter thus thy being? Thou conceal'st it not;
+For I abhorrence see, impressed upon thy brow,
+And noble anger, that contendeth with surprise.
+
+HELENA (_who has left the folded doors open, excited_)
+
+No vulgar fear beseems the daughter of high Zeus,
+And her no lightly-fleeting terror-hand may touch;
+But that dire horror which, from womb of ancient Night,
+In time primeval rising, still in divers shapes,
+Like lurid clouds, from out the mountain's fiery gorge,
+Whirls itself forth, may shake even the hero's breast.
+Thus have the Stygian Gods, with horror fraught, today
+Mine entrance to the house so marked, that fain I am,
+Back from the oft-time trod, long-yearned-for threshold now,
+Like to a guest dismissed, departing, to retire.
+Yet no, retreated have I hither to the light;
+No further shall ye drive me, Powers, who'er ye be!
+Some expiation, I'll devise, then purified,
+The hearth-flame welcome may the consort as the lord.
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS
+
+Discover, noble queen, to us thy handmaidens,
+Devotedly who serve thee, what hath come to pass!
+
+HELENA
+
+What I have seen ye, too, with your own eyes, shall see,
+If ancient Night, within her wonder-teeming womb,
+Hath not forthwith engulfed, once more, her ghastly birth;
+But yet, that ye may know, with words I'll tell it you:--
+What time the royal mansion's gloomy inner court,
+Upon my task intent, with solemn step I trod,
+I wondered at the drear and silent corridors.
+Fell on mine ear no sound of busy servitors,
+No stir of rapid haste, officious, met my gaze;
+Before me there appeared no maid, no stewardess,
+Who every stranger erst, with friendly greeting, hailed.
+But when I neared at length the bosom of the hearth,
+There saw I, by the light of dimly smouldering fire,
+Crouched on the ground, a crone, close-veiled, of stature huge,
+Not like to one asleep, but as absorbed in thought!
+With accent of command I summon her to work,
+The stewardess in her surmising, who perchance
+My spouse, departing hence, with foresight there had placed;
+Yet, closely muted up, still sits she, motionless;
+At length, upon my threat, up-lifts she her right arm,
+As though from hearth and hall she motioned me away.
+Wrathful from her I turn, and forthwith hasten out,
+Toward the steps, whereon aloft the Thalamos
+Rises adorned, thereto the treasure-house hard by;
+When, on a sudden, starts the wonder from the floor;
+Barring with lordly mien my passage, she herself
+In haggard height displays, with hollow eyes, blood-grimed,
+An aspect weird and strange, confounding eye and thought.
+Yet speak I to the winds; for language all in vain
+Creatively essays to body forth such shapes.
+There see herself! The light she ventures to confront!
+Here are we master, till the lord and monarch comes;
+The ghastly brood of Night doth Phoebus, beauty's friend,
+Back to their caverns drive, or them he subjugates.
+
+[PHORKYAS _stepping on the threshold, between the door-posts._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Much have I lived through, although my tresses
+ Youthfully waver still round my temples;
+ Manifold horrors have mine eyes witnessed;
+ Warfare's dire anguish, Ilion's night,
+ When it fell;
+
+ Through the o'erclouded, dust over-shadow'd
+ Tumult of war, to gods have I hearken'd,
+ Fearfully shouting; hearken'd while discord's
+ Brazen voices clang through the field
+ Rampart-wards.
+
+ Ah, yet standing were Ilion's
+ Ramparts; nathless the glowing flames
+ Shot from neighbor to neighbor roof,
+ Ever spreading from here and there,
+ with their tempest's fiery blast,
+ Over the night-darkened city.--
+
+ Flying, saw I through smoke and glare,
+ And the flash of the tonguèd flames,
+ Dreadful, threatening gods draw near;
+ Wondrous figures, of giant mould,
+ Onward striding through the weird
+ Gloom of fire-luminous vapor.
+
+ Saw I them, or did my mind,
+ Anguish-torn, itself body forth
+ Phantoms so terrible--never more
+ Can I tell; but that I this
+ Horrible shape with eyes behold,
+ This of a surety know I!
+ Yea, with my hands could clutch it even,
+ Did not fear, from the perilous
+ Venture, ever withhold me.
+
+ Tell me, of Phorkyas'
+ Daughters which art thou?
+ For to that family
+ Thee must I liken.
+ Art thou, may be, one of the gray-born?
+ One eye only, and but one tooth
+ Using still alternately?
+ One of the Graiæ art thou?
+ Darest thou, Horror,
+ Thus beside beauty,
+ Or to the searching glance
+ Phoebus' unveil thee?
+ Nathless step thou forward undaunted;
+ For the horrible sees he not,
+ As his hallowed glances yet
+ Never gazed upon shadows.
+
+ But a tragical fate, alas,
+ Us, poor mortals, constrains to bear
+ Anguish of vision, unspeakable,
+ Which the contemptible, ever-detestable,
+ Doth in lovers of beauty wake!
+
+ Yea, so hearken then, if thou dar'st
+ Us to encounter, hear our curse,
+ Hark to each imprecation's threat,
+ Out of the curse-breathing lips of the happy ones,
+ Who by the gods created are!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Trite is the word, yet high and true remains the sense:
+That Shame and Beauty ne'er together, hand in hand,
+Their onward way pursue, earth's verdant path along.
+Deep-rooted in these twain dwelleth an ancient grudge,
+So that, where'er they happen on their way to meet,
+Upon her hated rival turneth each her back;
+Then onward speeds her course with greater vehemence,
+Shame filled with sorrow, Beauty insolent of mood,
+Till her at length embraces Orcus' hollow night,
+Unless old age erewhile her haughtiness hath tamed.
+You find I now, ye wantons, from a foreign shore,
+With insolence o'erflowing, like the clamorous flight
+Of cranes, with shrilly scream that high above our heads,
+A long and moving cloud, croaking send down their noise,
+Which the lone pilgrim lures wending his silent way,
+Aloft to turn his gaze; yet on their course they fare,
+He also upon his: so will it be with us.
+
+Who are ye then, that thus around the monarch's house,
+With Maenad rage, ye dare like drunken ones to rave?
+Who are ye then that ye the house's stewardess
+Thus bay, like pack of hounds hoarsely that bay the moon?
+Think ye, 'tis hid from me, the race whereof ye are?
+Thou youthful, war-begotten, battle-nurtured brood,
+Lewd and lascivious thou, seducers and seduced,
+Unnerving both, the soldier's and the burgher's strength!
+Seeing your throng, to me a locust-swarm ye seem,
+Which, settling down, conceals the young green harvest-field.
+Wasters of others' toil! ye dainty revellers,
+Destroyers in its bloom of all prosperity!
+Thou conquer'd merchandise, exchanged and marketed!
+
+HELENA
+
+Who in the mistress' presence chides her handmaidens,
+Audacious, doth o'erstep her household privilege;
+For her alone beseems, the praise-worthy to praise,
+As also that to punish which doth merit blame.
+Moreover with the service am I well-content,
+Which these have rendered me, what time proud Ilion's strength
+Beleaguer'd stood, and fell and sank; nor less indeed
+When we, of our sea-voyage the dreary changeful woe
+Endured, where commonly each thinks but of himself.
+Here also I expect the like from this blithe train;
+Not what the servant is, we ask, but how he serves.
+Therefore be silent thou, and snarl at them no more!
+If thou the monarch's house till now hast guarded well,
+Filling the mistress' place, that for thy praise shall count;
+But now herself is come, therefore do thou retire,
+Lest chastisement be thine, instead of well-earn'd meed!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+The menial train to threat, a sacred right remains,
+Which the illustrious spouse of heaven-favor'd lord
+Through many a year doth earn of prudent governance.
+Since that, now recognized, thy ancient place as queen,
+And mistress of the house, once more thou dost resume,
+The long-time loosen'd reins grasp thou; be ruler here,
+And in possession take the treasures, us with them!
+Me before all protect, who am the elder-born,
+From this young brood, who seem, thy swan-like beauty near,
+But as a basely wingèd flock of cackling geese!
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS
+
+How hideous beside beauty showeth hideousness!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+How foolish by discretion's side shows foolishness!
+
+[_Henceforth the choristers respond in turn, stepping
+forth singly from the chorus._]
+
+FIRST CHORISTER
+
+Tell us of Father Erebus, tell us of Mother Night!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Speak thou of Scylla, speak of her, thy sister-born!
+
+SECOND CHORISTER
+
+From thy ancestral tree springs many a monster forth.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+To Orcus hence, away! Seek thou thy kindred there!
+
+THIRD CHORISTER
+
+Who yonder dwell, in sooth, for thee are far too young.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Tiresias, the hoary, go, make love to him!
+
+FOURTH CHORISTER
+
+Orion's nurse of old, was thy great-grand-daughter.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Harpies, so I suspect, did rear thee up in filth.
+
+FIFTH CHORISTER
+
+Thy cherished meagreness, whereon dost nourish that?
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+'Tis not with blood, for which so keenly thou dost thirst.
+
+SIXTH CHORISTER
+
+For corpses dost thou hunger, loathsome corpse thyself!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Within thy shameless jaw the teeth of vampires gleam.
+
+SEVENTH CHORISTER
+
+Thine I should stop were I to tell thee who thou art.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+First do thou name thyself; the riddle then is solved.
+
+HELENA
+
+Not wrathful, but in grief, step I between you now,
+Forbidding such alternate quarrel's angry noise;
+For to the ruler naught more hurtful can befall,
+Than, 'mong his trusty servants, sworn and secret strife;
+The echo of his mandate then to him no more
+In swift accomplished deed responsively returns;
+No, stormful and self-will'd, it rages him around,
+The self-bewilder'd one, and chiding still in vain.
+Nor this alone; ye have in rude unmanner'd wrath
+Unblessèd images of dreadful shapes evoked,
+Which so encompass me, that whirl'd I feel myself
+To Orcus down, despite these my ancestral fields.
+Is it remembrance? Was it frenzy seized on me?
+Was I all that? and am I? shall I henceforth be
+The dread and phantom-shape of those town-wasting ones?
+The maidens quail: but thou, the eldest, thou dost stand,
+Calm and unmoved; speak, then, to me some word of sense!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Who of long years recalls the fortune manifold,
+To him heaven's highest favor seems at last a dream.
+But thou, so highly favored, past all bound or goal,
+Saw'st, in thy life-course, none but love-inflamèd men,
+Kindled by impulse rash to boldest enterprise.
+Theseus by passion stirred full early seized on thee,
+A man of glorious form, and strong as Heracles.
+
+HELENA
+
+Forceful he bore me off, a ten-year slender roe,
+And in Aphidnus' keep shut me, in Attica.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+But thence full soon set free, by Castor, Pollux too,
+In marriage wast thou sought by chosen hero-band.
+
+HELENA
+
+Yet hath Patroclus, he, Pelides' other self,
+My secret favor won, as willingly I own.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+But thee thy father hath to Menelaus wed,
+Bold rover of the sea, and house-sustainer too.
+
+HELENA
+
+His daughter gave he, gave to him the kingdom's sway;
+And from our wedded union sprang Hermione.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+But while he strove afar, for Crete, his heritage,
+To thee, all lonely, came an all too beauteous guest.
+
+HELENA
+
+Wherefore the time recall of that half-widowhood,
+And what destruction dire to me therefrom hath grown!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+That voyage unto me, a free-born dame of Crete,
+Hath also capture brought, and weary servitude.
+
+HELENA
+
+As stewardess forthwith, he did appoint thee here,
+With much intrusted,--fort and treasure boldly won.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+All which thou didst forsake, by Ilion's tower-girt town
+Allured, and by the joys, the exhaustless joys of love.
+
+HELENA
+
+Remind me not of joys: No, an infinitude
+Of all too bitter woe o'erwhelm'd my heart and brain.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Nathless 'tis said thou didst in two-fold shape appear;
+Seen within Ilion's walls, and seen in Egypt too.
+
+HELENA
+
+Confuse thou not my brain, distraught and desolate!
+Here even, who I am in sooth I cannot tell.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+'Tis also said, from out the hollow shadow-dream,
+Achilles, passion-fired, hath joined himself to thee,
+Whom he hath loved of old, 'gainst all resolves of Fate.
+
+HELENA
+
+As phantom I myself, to him a phantom bound;
+A dream it was--thus e'en the very words declare.
+I faint, and to myself a phantom I become.
+          [She sinks into the arms of the semi-chorus._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Silence! Silence!
+ False seeing one, false speaking one, thou!
+ Through thy horrible, single-tooth'd lips,
+ Ghastly, what exhaleth
+ From such terrible loathsome gulf!
+ For the malignant one, kindliness feigning,
+ Rage of wolf 'neath the sheep's woolly fleece,
+ Far more terrible is unto me than
+ Jaws of the hound three-headed.
+ Anxiously watching stand we here:
+ When? How? Where of such malice
+ Bursteth the tempest
+ From this deep-lurking brood of Hell?
+ Now, 'stead of friendly words, freighted with comfort,
+ Lethe-bestowing, gracious and mild,
+ Thou art summoning from times departed,
+ Thoughts of the past most hateful,
+ Overshadowing not alone
+ All sheen gilding the present,
+ Also the future's
+ Mildly glimmering light of hope.
+
+ Silence! Silence!
+ That fair Helena's soul,
+ Ready e'en now to take flight,
+ Still may keep, yea firmly keep
+ The form of all forms, the loveliest,
+ Ever illumined of old by the sun.
+
+[HELENA _has revived, and again stands in the midst._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+(_The scene is entirely changed. Close arbors recline against a series
+of rocky caverns. A shady grove extends to the base of the encircling
+rocks_. FAUST _and_ HELENA _are not seen. The_ CHORUS _lies sleeping,
+scattered here and there_.)
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+How long these maids have slept, in sooth I cannot tell;
+Or whether they have dreamed what I before mine eyes
+Saw bright and clear, to me is equally unknown.
+So wake I them. Amazed the younger folks shall be,
+Ye too, ye bearded ones, who sit below and wait,
+Hoping to see at length these miracles resolved.
+Arise! Arise! And shake quickly your crisped locks!
+Shake slumber from your eyes! Blink not, and list to me!
+
+CHORUS
+
+Only speak, relate, and tell us, what of wonderful hath chanced!
+We more willingly shall hearken that which we cannot believe;
+For we are aweary, weary, gazing on these rocks around.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Children, how, already weary, though you scarce have rubbed your eyes?
+Hearken then! Within these caverns, in these grottoes, in these bowers,
+Shield and shelter have been given, as to lover-twain idyllic,
+To our lord and to our lady--
+
+CHORUS
+                        How, within there?
+
+PHORKYAS
+                                        Yea, secluded
+From the world; and me, me only, they to secret service called.
+Highly honored stood I near them, yet, as one in trust beseemeth,
+Round I gazed on other objects, turning hither, turning thither,
+Sought for roots, for barks and mosses, with their properties acquainted;
+And they thus remained alone.
+
+CHORUS
+
+Thou would'st make believe that yonder, world-wide spaces lie within,
+Wood and meadow, lake and brooklet; what strange fable spinnest thou!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Yea, in sooth, ye inexperienced, there lie regions undiscovered:
+Hall on hall, and court on court; in my musings these I track.
+Suddenly a peal of laughter echoes through the cavern'd spaces;
+In I gaze, a boy is springing from the bosom of the woman
+To the man, from sire to mother: the caressing and the fondling,
+All love's foolish playfulnesses, mirthful cry and shout of rapture,
+Alternating, deafen me.
+Naked, without wings, a genius, like a faun, with nothing bestial,
+On the solid ground he springeth; but the ground, with counter-action,
+Up to ether sends him flying; with the second, third rebounding
+Touches he the vaulted roof.
+Anxiously the mother calleth: Spring amain, and at thy pleasure;
+But beware, think not of flying, unto thee is flight denied.
+And so warns the faithful father: In the earth the force elastic
+Lies, aloft that sends thee bounding; let thy toe but touch the surface,
+Like the son of earth, Antæus, straightway is thy strength renewed.
+And so o'er these rocky masses, on from dizzy ledge to ledge,
+Leaps he ever, hither, thither, springing like a stricken ball.
+But in cleft of rugged cavern suddenly from sight he vanished;
+And now lost to us he seemeth, mother waileth, sire consoleth,
+Anxiously I shrug my shoulders. But again, behold, what vision!
+Lie there treasures hidden yonder? Raiment broidered o'er with flowers
+He becomingly hath donned;
+Tassels from his arms are waving, ribbons flutter on his bosom,
+In his hand the lyre all-golden, wholly like a tiny Phoebus,
+Boldly to the edge he steppeth, to the precipice; we wonder,
+And the parents, full of rapture, cast them on each other's heart;
+For around his brow what splendor! Who can tell what there is shining?
+Gold-work is it, or the flaming of surpassing spirit-power?
+Thus he moveth, with such gesture, e'en as boy himself announcing
+Future master of all beauty, through whose limbs, whose every member,
+Flow the melodies eternal: and so shall ye hearken to him,
+And so shall ye gaze upon him, to your special wonderment.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ This call'st thou marvelous,
+ Daughter of Creta?
+ Unto the bard's pregnant word
+ Hast thou perchance never listened?
+ Hast thou not heard of Ionia's,
+ Ne'er been instructed in Hellas'
+ Legends, from ages primeval,
+ Godlike, heroical treasure?
+ All, that still happeneth
+ Now in the present,
+ Sorrowful echo 'tis,
+ Of days ancestral, more noble;
+ Equals not in sooth thy story
+ That which beautiful fiction,
+ Than truth more worthy of credence,
+ Chanted hath of Maia's offspring!
+ This so shapely and potent, yet
+ Scarcely-born delicate nursling,
+ Straight have his gossiping nurses
+ Folded in purest swaddling fleece,
+ Fastened in costly swathings,
+ With their irrational notions.
+ Potent and shapely, ne'ertheless,
+ Draws the rogue his flexible limbs,
+ Body firm yet elastic,
+ Craftily forth; the purple shell,
+ Him so grievously binding,
+ Leaving quietly in its place;
+ As the perfected butterfly,
+ From the rigid chrysalid,
+ Pinion unfolding, rapidly glides,
+ Boldly and wantonly sailing through
+ Sun-impregnated ether.
+
+ So he, too, the most dextrous,
+ That to robbers and scoundrels,
+ Yea, and to all profit-seekers,
+ He a favoring god might be,
+ This he straightway made manifest,
+ Using arts the most cunning.
+ Swift from the ruler of ocean he
+ Steals the trident, yea, e'en from Arès
+ Steals the sword from the scabbard;
+ Arrow and bow from Phoebus too,
+ Also his tongs from Hephæstos
+ Even Zeus', the father's, bolt,
+ Him had fire not scared, he had ta'en.
+ Eros also worsted he,
+ In limb-grappling, wrestling match;
+ Stole from Cypria as she caressed him,
+ From her bosom, the girdle.
+
+(_An exquisite, purely melodious lyre-music resounds from
+the cave. All become attentive, and appear soon to be
+inwardly moved; henceforth, to the pause indicated,
+there is a full musical accompaniment._)
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+ Hark those notes so sweetly sounding;
+ Cast aside your fabled lore:
+ Gods, in olden time abounding,--
+ Let them go! their day is o'er.
+
+ None will comprehend your singing;
+ Nobler theme the age requires:
+ From the heart must flow, up-springing,
+ What to touch the heart aspires.
+              [_She retires behind the rock._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ To these tones, so sweetly flowing,
+ Dire one! dost incline thine ears,
+ They in us, new health bestowing,
+ Waken now the joy of tears.
+
+ Vanish may the sun's clear shining,
+ In our soul if day arise,
+ In our heart we, unrepining,
+ Find what the whole world denies.
+
+(HELENA, FAUST, EUPHORION _in the costume indicated above_)
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Songs of childhood hear ye ringing,
+ Your own mirth it seems; on me
+ Gazing, thus in measure springing,
+ Leap your parent-hearts with glee.
+
+HELENA
+
+ Love, terrestrial bliss to capture,
+ Two in noble union mates;
+ But to wake celestial rapture,
+ He a precious three creates.
+
+FAUST
+
+All hath been achieved. For ever
+I am thine, and mine thou art,
+Blent our beings are--oh never
+May our present joy depart!
+
+CHORUS
+
+Many a year of purest pleasure,
+In the mild light of their boy,
+Crowns this pair in richest measure.
+Me their union thrills with joy!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Now let me gambol,
+ Joyfully springing!
+ Upward to hasten
+ Through ether winging,
+ This wakes my yearning,
+ This prompts me now!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Gently! son, gently!
+ Be not so daring!
+ Lest ruin seize thee
+ Past all repairing,
+ And our own darling
+ Whelm us in woe!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ From earth my spirit
+ Still upward presses;
+ Let go my hands now,
+ Let go my tresses,
+ Let go my garments,
+ Mine every one!
+
+HELENA
+
+ To whom, bethink thee,
+ Now thou pertainest!
+ Think how it grieves us
+ When thou disdainest
+ Mine, thine, and his,--the all
+ That hath been won.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Soon shall, I fear me,
+ The bond be undone!
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+ Curb for thy parents' sake,
+ To us returning,
+ Curb thy importunate
+ Passionate yearning!
+ Make thou the rural plain
+ Tranquil and bright.
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ But to content you
+ Stay I my flight.
+
+(_Winding among the_ CHORUS _and drawing them forth to dance_)
+
+ Round this gay troop I flee
+ With impulse light.
+ Say is the melody,
+ Say is the movement right?
+
+HELENA
+
+ Yea, 'tis well done; advance,
+ Lead to the graceful dance
+ These maidens coy!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Could I the end but see!
+ Me this mad revelry
+ Fills with annoy.
+
+EUPHORION _and the_ CHORUS
+
+(_Dancing and singing, they move about in interweaving lines_)
+
+ Moving thine arms so fair
+ With graceful motion,
+ Tossing thy curling hair
+ In bright commotion;
+ When thou with foot so light
+ Over the earth doth skim,
+ Thither and back in flight,
+ Moving each graceful limb;
+ Thou hast attained thy goal,
+ Beautiful child,
+ All hearts thou hast beguiled,
+ Won every soul. [_Pause._]
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Gracefully sporting,
+ Light-footed roes,
+ New frolic courting
+ Scorn ye repose:
+ I am the hunter,
+ Ye are the game.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Us wilt thou capture,
+ Urge not thy pace;
+ For it were rapture
+ Thee to embrace,
+ Beautiful creature,
+ This our sole aim!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Through trees and heather,
+ Bound all together,
+ O'er stock and stone!
+ Whate'er is lightly won,
+ That I disdain;
+ What I by force obtain,
+ Prize I alone.
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+What vagaries, sense confounding!
+Naught of measure to be hoped for!
+Like the blare of trumpet sounding,
+Over vale and forest ringing.
+What a riot! What a cry!
+
+CHORUS (_entering quickly one by one_)
+
+Us he passed with glance scorn-laden;
+Hastily still onward springing,
+Bearing now the wildest maiden
+Of our troop, he draweth nigh.
+
+EUPHORION (_bearing a young maiden_)
+
+I this wilful maid and coy
+Carry to enforced caress;
+For my pleasure, for my joy
+Her resisting bosom press,
+Kiss her rebel lips, that so
+She my power and will may know.
+
+MAIDEN
+
+Loose me! in this frame residing,
+Burns a spirit's strength and might;
+Strong as thine, our will presiding
+Swerveth not with purpose light.
+Thinkest, on thy strength relying,
+That thou hast me in a strait?
+Hold me, fool! thy strength defying,
+For my sport, I'll scorch thee yet!
+           [_She flames up and flashes into the air_.]
+
+Follow where light breezes wander,
+Follow to rude caverns yonder,
+Strive thy vanish'd prey to net!
+
+EUPHORION (_shaking off the last flames_)
+
+Rocks all around I see,
+Thickets and woods among!
+Why should they prison me?
+Still am I fresh and young.
+Tempests, they loudly roar,
+Billows, they lash the shore;
+Both far away I hear;
+Would I were near!
+       [_He springs higher up the rock._]
+
+HELENA, FAUST, _and_ CHORUS
+
+Wouldst thou chamois-like aspire?
+Us thy threaten'd fall dismays!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Higher must I climb, yet higher,
+Wider still must be my gaze.
+Know I now, where I stand:
+'Midst of the sea-girt land,
+'Midst of great Pelops' reign,
+Kin both to earth and main.
+
+CHORUS
+
+Canst not near copse and wold
+Tarry, then yonder,
+Ripe figs and apple-gold
+Seeking, we'll wander;
+Grapes too shall woo our hand,
+Grapes from the mantling vine.
+Ah, let this dearest land,
+Dear one, be thine!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Dream ye of peaceful day?
+ Dream on, while dream ye may!
+ War! is the signal cry,
+ Hark! cries of victory!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ War who desireth
+ While peace doth reign,
+ To joy aspireth
+ Henceforth in vain.
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ All whom this land hath bred,
+ Through peril onward led,
+ Free, of undaunted mood,
+ Still lavish of their blood,
+ With soul untaught to yield,
+ Rending each chain!
+ To such the bloody field,
+ Brings glorious gain.
+
+CHORUS
+
+High he soars,--mark, upward gazing,--
+And to us not small doth seem:
+Victor-like, in harness blazing,
+As of steel and brass the gleam!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Not on moat or wall relying,
+On himself let each one rest!
+Firmest stronghold, all defying,
+Ever is man's iron breast!
+
+Dwell for aye unconquered would ye?
+Arm, by no vain dreams beguiled!
+Amazons your women should be,
+And a hero every child!
+
+CHORUS
+
+O hallowed Poesie,
+Heavenward still soareth she!
+Shine on, thou brightest star,
+Farther and still more far!
+Yet us she still doth cheer;
+Even her voice to hear,
+Joyful we are.
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Child no more; a stripling bearing
+Arms appears, with valor fraught
+Leagued with the strong, the free, the daring,
+In soul already who hath wrought.
+Hence away!
+No delay!
+There where glory may be sought.
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+Scarcely summoned to life's gladness,
+Scarcely given to day's bright gleam,
+Downward now to pain and sadness
+Wouldst thou rush, from heights supreme!
+Are then we
+Naught to thee?
+Is our gracious bond a dream?
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Hark! What thunders seaward rattle,
+Echoing from vale to vale!
+'Mid dust and foam, in shock of battle,
+Throng on throng, to grief and bale!
+And the command
+Is, firm to stand;
+Death to face, nor ever quail.
+
+HELENA, FAUST, _and_ CHORUS
+
+Oh what horror! Hast thou told it!
+Is then death for thee decreed?
+
+EUPHORION
+
+From afar shall I behold it?
+No! I'll share the care and need!
+
+HELENA, FAUST _and_ CHORUS
+
+Rashness to peril brings,
+And deadly fate!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Yet--see a pair of wings
+Unfoldeth straight!
+Thither--I must, I must--
+Grudge not my flight!
+
+[_He casts himself into the air; his garments support him
+for a moment; his head flames, a trail of light follows him._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Icarus! Icarus!
+ Oh woeful sight!
+
+(_A beautiful youth falls at the parents' feet; we imagine
+that in the dead we recognize a well-known form; yet
+suddenly the corporeal part vanishes; the aureole rises
+like a comet to heaven; dress, mantle, and lyre remain
+lying on the ground._)
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+Follows on joy new-born
+Anguishful moan!
+
+EUPHORION'S VOICE, (_from the depths_)
+
+Leave me in realms forlorn,
+Mother, not all alone! [_Pause._]
+
+CHORUS (_dirge_)
+
+Not alone--for hope we cherish,
+Where thou bidest thee to know!
+Ah, from daylight though thou perish,
+Ne'er a heart will let thee go!
+Scarce we venture to bewail thee,
+Envying we sing thy fate:
+Did sunshine cheer, or storm assail thee,
+Song and heart were fair and great.
+
+Earthly fortune was thy dower,
+Lofty lineage, ample might,
+Ah, too early lost, thy flower
+Withered by untimely blight!
+Glance was thine the world discerning,
+Sympathy with every wrong,
+Woman's love for thee still yearning,
+And thine own enchanting song.
+
+Yet the beaten path forsaking,
+Thou didst run into the snare;
+So with law and usage breaking,
+On thy wilful course didst fare;
+Yet at last high thought has given
+To thy noble courage weight,
+For the loftiest thou has striven--
+It to win was not thy fate.
+
+Who does win it? Unreplying,
+Destiny the question hears,
+When the bleeding people lying,
+Dumb with grief, no cry uprears!--
+Now new songs chant forth, in sorrow
+Deeply bowed lament no more;
+Them the earth brings forth tomorrow,
+As she brought them forth of yore!
+
+[_Full pause. The music ceases._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT THE FIFTH
+
+OPEN COUNTRY
+
+
+WANDERER
+
+Yes, 'tis they, their branches rearing,
+Hoary lindens, strong in age;--
+There I find them, reappearing,
+After my long pilgrimage!
+'Tis the very spot;--how gladly
+Yonder hut once more I see,
+By the billows raging madly,
+Cast ashore, which sheltered me!
+My old hosts, I fain would greet them,
+Helpful they, an honest pair;
+May I hope today to meet them?
+Even then they aged were.
+Worthy folk, in God believing!
+Shall I knock? or raise my voice?
+Hail to you if, guest receiving,
+In good deeds ye still rejoice!
+
+BAUCIS (_a very aged woman_)
+
+Stranger dear, beware of breaking
+My dear husband's sweet repose!
+Strength for brief and feeble waking
+Lengthened sleep on age bestows.
+
+WANDERER
+
+Mother, say then, do I find thee,
+To receive my thanks once more,
+In my youth who didst so kindly,
+With thy spouse, my life restore?
+Baucis, to my lips half-dying,
+Art thou, who refreshment gave?
+          [_The husband steps forth._]
+
+Thou Philemon, strength who plying,
+Snatched my treasure from the wave?
+By your flames, so promptly kindled,
+By your bell's clear silver sound--
+That adventure, horror-mingled,
+Hath a happy issue found.
+Forward let me step, and gazing
+Forth upon the boundless main,
+Kneel, and thankful prayers upraising,
+Ease of my full heart the strain!
+
+   [_He walks forward upon the downs._]
+
+PHILEMON (_to_ BAUCIS)
+
+Haste to spread the table, under
+The green leafage of our trees.
+Let him run, struck dumb with wonder,
+Scarce he'll credit what he sees.
+
+[_He follows the wanderer. Standing beside him._]
+
+Where the billows did maltreat you,
+Wave on wave in fury rolled,
+There a garden now doth greet you,
+Fair as Paradise of old.
+Grown more aged, as when stronger,
+I could render aid no more;
+And, as waned my strength, no longer
+Rolled the sea upon the shore;
+Prudent lords, bold serfs directing,
+It with trench and dyke restrained;
+Ocean's rights no more respecting,
+Lords they were, where he had reigned.
+See, green meadows far extending;--
+Garden, village, woodland, plain.
+But return we, homeward wending,
+For the sun begins to wane.
+In the distance sails are gliding,
+Nightly they to port repair;
+Bird-like, in their nests confiding,
+For a haven waits them there.
+Far away mine eye discerneth
+First the blue fringe of the main;
+Right and left, where'er it turneth,
+Spreads the thickly-peopled plain.
+
+
+IN THE GARDEN
+
+_The three at table_
+
+
+BAUCIS (_to the stranger_)
+
+Art thou dumb? No morsel raising
+To thy famished lips?
+
+PHILEMON
+
+ I trow,
+He of wonders so amazing
+Fain would hear; inform him thou.
+
+BAUCIS
+
+There was wrought a wonder truly,
+Yet no rest it leaves to me;
+Naught in the affair was duly
+Done, as honest things should be!
+
+PHILEMON
+
+Who as sinful can pronounce it?
+'Twas the emperor gave the shore;--
+Did the trumpet not announce it
+As the herald passed our door?
+Footing firm they first have planted
+Near these downs. Tents, huts, appeared;
+O'er the green, the eye, enchanted,
+Saw ere long a palace reared.
+
+BAUCIS
+
+Shovel, axe, no labor sparing,
+Vainly plied the men by day;
+Where the fires at night shone flaring,
+Stood a dam, in morning's ray.
+Still from human victims bleeding,
+Wailing sounds were nightly borne;
+Seaward sped the flames, receding;
+A canal appeared at morn!
+Godless is he, naught respecting;
+Covets he our grove, our cot;
+Though our neighbor, us subjecting,
+Him to serve will be our lot.
+
+PHILEMON
+
+Yet he bids, our claims adjusting,
+Homestead fair in his new land.
+
+BAUCIS
+
+Earth, from water saved, mistrusting,
+On thine own height take thy stand.
+
+PHILEMON
+
+Let us, to the chapel wending,
+Watch the sun's last rays subside;
+Let us ring, and prayerful bending,
+In our father's God confide!
+
+PALACE
+
+_Spacious ornamental garden; broad, straight canal._ FAUST
+_in extreme old age, walking about, meditating._
+
+LYNCEUS, THE WARDER (_through a speaking trumpet_)
+
+The sun sinks down, the ships belated
+Rejoicing to the haven steer.
+A stately galley, deeply freighted,
+On the canal, now draweth near;
+Her chequer'd flag the breeze caresses
+The masts unbending bear the sails:
+Thee now the grateful seaman blesses,
+Thee at this moment Fortune hails.
+               [_The bell rings on the downs._]
+
+FAUST (_starting_)
+
+Accursed bell! Its clamor sending,
+Like spiteful shot it wounds mine ear!
+Before me lies my realm unending;
+Vexation dogs me in the rear;
+For I, these envious chimes still hearing,
+Must at my narrow bounds repine;
+The linden grove, brown but thence peering,
+The moldering church, these are not mine.
+Refreshment seek I, there repairing?
+Another's shadow chills my heart,
+A thorn, nor foot nor vision sparing,--
+O far from hence could I depart!
+
+WARDER (_as above_)
+
+How, wafted by the evening gales,
+Blithely the painted galley sails;
+On its swift course, how richly stored!
+Chest, coffer, sack, are heaped aboard.
+_A splendid galley, richly and brilliantly laden with the
+produce of foreign climes._
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. THE THREE MIGHTY COMRADES
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Here do we land,
+ Here are we now.
+ Hail to our lord;
+ Our patron, thou!
+
+(_They disembark. The goods are brought ashore._)
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+So have we proved our worth--content
+If we our patron's praises earn:
+With but two ships abroad we went,
+With twenty we to port return.
+By our rich lading all may see
+The great successes we have wrought.
+Free ocean makes the spirit free:
+There claims compunction ne'er a thought!
+A rapid grip there needs alone;
+A fish, a ship, on both we seize.
+Of three if we the lordship own,
+Straightway we hook a fourth with ease,
+Then is the fifth in sorry plight--
+Who hath the power, has still the right;
+The _What_ is asked for, not the _How_.
+Else know I not the seaman's art:
+War, commerce, piracy, I trow,
+A trinity, we may not part.
+
+THE THREE MIGHTY COMRADES
+
+ No thank and hail;
+ No hail and thank!
+ As were our cargo
+ Vile and rank!
+ Disgust upon
+ His face one sees
+ The kingly wealth
+ Doth him displease!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Expect ye now
+ No further pay;
+ For ye your share
+ Have ta'en away.
+
+THE THREE MIGHTY COMRADES
+
+ To pass the time,
+ As was but fair;
+ We all expect
+ An equal share.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ First range in order,
+ Hall on hall,
+ These wares so costly,
+ One and all!
+ And when he steps
+ The prize to view,
+ And reckons all
+ With judgment true,
+ He'll be no niggard;
+ As is meet,
+ Feast after feast
+ He'll give the fleet,
+ The gay birds come with morning tide;
+ Myself for them can best provide.
+             [_The cargo is removed._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+With gloomy look, with earnest brow
+Thy fortune high receivest thou.
+Thy lofty wisdom has been crowned;
+Their limits shore and sea have bound;
+Forth from the shore, in swift career,
+O'er the glad waves, thy vessels steer;
+Speak only from thy pride of place,
+Thine arm the whole world doth embrace.
+Here it began; on this spot stood
+The first rude cabin formed of wood;
+A little ditch was sunk of yore
+Where plashes now the busy oar.
+Thy lofty thought, thy people's hand,
+Have won the prize from sea and land.
+From here too--
+
+FAUST
+
+              That accursed here!
+It weighs upon me! Lend thine ear;--
+To thine experience I must tell,
+With thrust on thrust, what wounds my heart;
+To bear it is impossible--
+Nor can I, without shame, impart:
+The old folk there above must yield;
+Would that my seat those lindens were;
+Those few trees not mine own, that field,
+Possession of the world impair.
+There I, wide view o'er all to take,
+From bough to bough would scaffolds raise;
+Would, for the prospect, vistas make
+On all that I have done to gaze;
+To see at once before me brought
+The master-work of human thought,
+Where wisdom hath achieved the plan,
+And won broad dwelling-place for man.--
+Thus are we tortured;--in our weal,
+That which we lack, we sorely feel!
+The chime, the scent of linden-bloom,
+Surround me like a vaulted tomb.
+The will that nothing could withstand,
+Is broken here upon the sand:
+How from the vexing thought be safe?
+The bell is pealing, and I chafe!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Such spiteful chance, 'tis natural,
+Must thy existence fill with gall.
+Who doubts it! To each noble ear,
+This clanging odious must appear;
+This cursed ding-dong, booming loud,
+The cheerful evening-sky doth shroud,
+With each event of life it blends,
+From birth to burial it attends,
+Until this mortal life doth seem,
+Twixt ding and dong, a vanished dream!
+
+FAUST
+
+Resistance, stubborn selfishness,
+Can trouble lordliest success,
+Till, in deep angry pain one must
+Grow tired at last of being first!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Why let thyself be troubled here?
+Is colonizing not thy sphere?
+
+FAUST
+
+Then go, to move them be thy care!
+Thou knowest well the homestead fair,
+I've chosen for the aged pair--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We'll bear them off, and on new ground
+Set them, ere one can look around.
+The violence outlived and past,
+Shall a fair home atone at last.
+              [_He whistles shrilly._]
+
+THE THREE _enter_
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Come! straight fulfil the lord's behest;
+The fleet tomorrow he will feast.
+
+THE THREE
+
+The old lord us did ill requite;
+A sumptuous feast is ours by right.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to the spectators_)
+
+What happ'd of old, here happens too:
+Still Naboth's vineyard meets the view.
+
+                      (I _Kings_, xvi.)
+
+
+DEEP NIGHT
+
+LYNCEUS THE WARDER (_on the watch-tower singing_)
+
+ Keen vision my birth-dower,
+ I'm placed on this height,
+ Still sworn to the watch-tower,
+ The world's my delight.
+ I gaze on the distant,
+ I look on the near,
+ On moon and on planet,
+ On wood and the deer:
+ The beauty eternal
+ In all things I see;
+ And pleased with myself
+ All bring pleasure to me.
+ Glad eyes, look around ye
+ And gaze, for whate'er
+ The sight they encounter,
+ It still hath been fair!
+
+(_Pause_)
+
+Not alone for pleasure-taking
+Am I planted thus on high;
+What dire vision, horror-waking,
+From yon dark world scares mine eye!
+Fiery sparkles see I gleaming
+Through the lindens' two-fold night;
+By the breezes fanned, their beaming
+Gloweth now with fiercer light!
+Ah! the peaceful hut is burning;
+Stood its moss-grown walls for years;
+They for speedy help are yearning--
+And no rescue, none appears!
+Ah the aged folk, so kindly,
+Once so careful of the fire,
+Now, to smoke a prey, they blindly
+Perish, oh misfortune dire!
+'Mid red flames, the vision dazing,
+Stands the moss-hut, black and bare;
+From the hell, so fiercely blazing,
+Could we save the honest pair!
+Lightning-like the fire advances,
+'Mid the foliage, 'mid the branches;
+Withered boughs,--they flicker, burning,
+Swiftly glow, then fall;--ah me!
+Must mine eyes, this woe discerning,
+Must they so far-sighted be!
+Down the lowly chapel crashes
+'Neath the branches' fall and weight;
+Winding now, the pointed flashes
+To the summit climb elate.
+Roots and trunks the flames have blighted,
+Hollow, purple-red, they glow!
+
+(_Long pause. Song_)
+
+Gone, what once the eye delighted,
+With the ages long ago!
+
+FAUST (_on the balcony, toward the downs_)
+
+From above what plaintive whimper?
+Word and tone are here too late!
+Wails my warder; me, in spirit
+Grieves this deed precipitate!
+Though in ruin unexpected
+Charred now lie the lindens old,
+Soon a height will be erected,
+Whence the boundless to behold.
+I the home shall see, enfolding
+In its walls, that ancient pair,
+Who, my gracious care beholding,
+Shall their lives end joyful there.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES _and_ THE THREE (_below_)
+
+Hither we come full speed. We crave
+Your pardon! Things have not gone right!
+Full many a knock and kick we gave,
+They opened not, in our despite;
+Then rattled we and kick'd the more,
+And prostrate lay the rotten door;
+We called aloud with threat severe,
+Yet sooth we found no listening ear.
+And as in such case still befalls,
+They heard not, would not hear our calls;
+Forthwith thy mandate we obeyed,
+And straight for thee a clearance made.
+The pair--their sufferings were light,
+Fainting they sank, and died of fright.
+A stranger, harbor'd there, made show
+Of force, full soon was he laid low;
+In the brief space of this wild fray,
+From coals, that strewn around us lay,
+The straw caught fire; 'tis blazing free,
+As funeral death-pyre for the three.
+
+FAUST
+
+To my commandments deaf were ye!
+Exchange I wished, not robbery.
+For this your wild and ruthless part;--
+I curse it! Share it and depart!
+
+CHORUS
+
+The ancient saw still rings today:
+Force with a willing mind obey;
+If boldly thou canst stand the test,
+Stake house, court, life, and all the rest!
+                           [_Exeunt._]
+
+FAUST
+
+The stars their glance and radiance veil;
+Smoulders the sinking fire, a gale
+Fans it with moisture-laden wings,
+Vapor to me and smoke it brings.
+Rash mandate--rashly, too, obeyed!--
+What hither sweeps like spectral shade?
+
+
+MIDNIGHT
+
+_Four gray women enter_
+
+FIRST
+
+My name, it is Want.
+
+SECOND
+
+           And mine, it is Blame.
+
+THIRD
+
+My name, it is Care.
+
+FOURTH
+
+         Need, that is my name.
+
+THREE (_together_)
+
+The door is fast-bolted, we cannot get in;
+The owner is wealthy, we may not within.
+
+WANT
+
+There fade I to shadow.
+
+
+BLAME
+
+                 There cease I to be.
+
+NEED
+
+His visage the pampered still turneth from me.
+
+CARE
+
+Ye sisters, ye cannot, ye dare not go in;
+But Care through the key-hole an entrance may win.
+                         [CARE _disappears_.]
+
+WANT
+
+Sisters, gray sisters, away let us glide!
+
+BLAME
+
+I bind myself to thee, quite close to thy side.
+
+NEED
+
+And Need at your heels doth with yours blend her breath.[35]
+
+THE THREE
+
+Fast gather the clouds, they eclipse star on star.
+Behind there, behind, from afar, from afar,
+There comes he, our brother, there cometh he--
+Death.
+
+FAUST (_in the palace_)
+
+Four saw I come, but only three went hence.
+Of their discourse I could not catch the sense;
+There fell upon mine ear a sound like breath,
+Thereon a gloomy rhyme-word followed--Death;
+Hollow the sound, with spectral horror fraught!
+Not yet have I, in sooth, my freedom wrought;
+Could I my pathway but from magic free,
+And quite unlearn the spells of sorcery,
+Stood I, oh nature, man alone 'fore thee,
+Then were it worth the trouble man to be!
+Such was I once, ere I in darkness sought,
+And curses dire, through words with error fraught,
+Upon myself and on the world have brought;
+So teems the air with falsehood's juggling brood,
+That no one knows how them he may elude!
+If but one day shines clear, in reason's light--
+In spectral dream envelopes us the night;
+From the fresh fields, as homeward we advance--
+There croaks a bird: what croaks he? some mischance!
+Ensnared by superstition, soon and late;
+As sign and portent, it on us doth wait--
+By fear unmanned, we take our stand alone;
+The portal creaks, and no one enters,--none.
+
+(_Agitated_)
+
+Is some one here?
+
+CARE
+
+            The question prompteth, yes!
+
+FAUST
+
+What art thou then?
+
+CARE
+
+            Here, once for all, am I.
+
+FAUST
+
+Withdraw thyself!
+
+CARE
+
+             My proper place is this.
+
+FAUST (_first angry, then appeased. Aside_)
+
+Take heed, and speak no word of sorcery.
+
+CARE
+
+ Though by outward ear unheard,
+ By my moan the heart is stirred;
+ And in ever-changeful guise,
+ Cruel force I exercise;
+ On the shore and on the sea,
+ Comrade dire hath man in me
+ Ever found, though never sought,
+ Flattered, cursed, so have I wrought.
+ Hast thou as yet Care never known?
+
+FAUST
+
+I have but hurried through the world, I own.
+I by the hair each pleasure seized;
+Relinquished what no longer pleased,
+That which escaped me I let go,
+I've craved, accomplished, and then craved again;
+Thus through my life I've storm'd--with might and main,
+Grandly, with power, at first; but now indeed,
+It goes more cautiously, with wiser heed.
+I know enough of earth, enough of men;
+The view beyond is barred from mortal ken;
+Fool, who would yonder peer with blinking eyes,
+And of his fellows dreams above the skies!
+Firm let him stand, the prospect round him scan,
+Not mute the world to the true-hearted man
+Why need he wander through eternity?
+What he can grasp, that only knoweth he.
+So let him roam adown earth's fleeting day;
+If spirits haunt, let him pursue his way;
+In joy or torment ever onward stride,
+Though every moment still unsatisfied!
+
+CARE
+
+ To him whom I have made mine own
+ All profitless the world hath grown:
+ Eternal gloom around him lies;
+ For him suns neither set nor rise;
+ With outward senses perfect, whole,
+ Dwell darknesses within his soul;
+ Though wealth he owneth, ne'ertheless
+ He nothing truly can possess.
+ Weal, woe, become mere phantasy;
+ He hungers 'mid satiety;
+ Be it joy, or be it sorrow,
+ He postpones it till the morrow;
+ Of the future thinking ever,
+ Prompt for present action never.
+
+FAUST
+
+Forbear! Thou shalt not come near me!
+I will not hear such folly. Hence!
+Avaunt! This evil litany
+The wisest even might bereave of sense.
+
+CARE
+
+ Shall he come or go? He ponders;--
+ All resolve from him is taken;
+ On the beaten path he wanders,
+ Groping on, as if forsaken.
+ Deeper still himself he loses,
+ Everything his sight abuses,
+ Both himself and others hating,
+ Taking breath--and suffocating,
+ Without life--yet scarcely dying,
+ Not despairing--not relying.
+ Rolling on without remission:
+ Loathsome ought, and sad permission,
+ Now deliverance, now vexation,
+ Semi-sleep,--poor recreation,
+ Nail him to his place and wear him,
+ And at last for hell prepare him.
+
+FAUST
+
+Unblessèd spectres! Ye mankind have so
+Treated a thousand times, their thoughts deranging;
+E'en uneventful days to mar ye know,
+Into a tangled web of torment changing!
+'Tis hard, I know, from demons to get free,
+The mighty spirit-bond by force untying;
+Yet Care, I never will acknowledge thee,
+Thy strong in-creeping, potency defying.
+
+CARE
+
+ Feel it then now; as thou shalt find
+ When with a curse from thee I've wended:
+ Through their whole lives are mortals blind--
+ So be thou, Faust, ere life be ended!
+                      [_She breathes on him._]
+
+FAUST (_blind_)
+
+Deeper and deeper night is round me sinking;
+Only within me shines a radiant light.
+I haste to realize, in act, my thinking;
+The master's word, that only giveth might.
+Up, vassals, from your couch! my project bold,
+Grandly completed, now let all behold!
+Seize ye your tools; your spades, your shovels ply;
+The work laid down, accomplish instantly!
+Strict rule, swift diligence,--these twain
+The richest recompense obtain.
+Completion of the greatest work demands
+One guiding spirit for a thousand hands.
+
+
+GREAT FORE-COURT OF THE PALACE
+
+_Torches_
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_as overseer leading the way_)
+
+ This way! this way! Come on! come on!
+ Le Lemures, loose of tether,
+ Of tendon, sinew, and of bone,
+ Half natures, patched together!
+
+LEMURES (_in chorus_)
+
+ At thy behest we're here at hand;
+ Thy destined aim half guessing--
+ It is that we a spacious land
+ May win for our possessing.
+ Sharp-pointed stakes we bring with speed,
+ Long chains wherewith to measure.
+ But we've forgotten why indeed
+ To call us was thy pleasure.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+No artist-toil we need today:
+Sufficeth your own measure here:
+At his full length the tallest let him lay!
+Ye others round him straight the turf uprear;
+As for our sires was done of yore,
+An oblong square delve ye once more.
+Out of the palace to the narrow home--
+So at the last the sorry end must come!
+
+LEMURES (_digging, with mocking gestures_)
+
+ In youth when I did live and love,
+ Methought, it was very sweet!
+ Where frolic rang and mirth was rife,
+ Thither still sped my feet.
+
+ Now with his crutch hath spiteful age
+ Dealt me a blow full sore:
+ I stumbled o'er a yawning grave,
+ Why open stood the door!
+
+FAUST (_comes forth from the palace, groping his way by
+the door posts_)
+
+How doth the clang of spades delight my soul!
+For me my vassals toil, the while
+Earth with itself they reconcile,
+The waves within their bounds control,
+And gird the sea with stedfast zone--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+And yet for us dost work alone,
+While thou for dam and bulwark carest;
+Since thus for Neptune thou preparest,
+The water-fiend, a mighty fête;
+Before thee naught but ruin lies;
+The elements are our allies;
+Onward destruction strides elate.
+
+FAUST
+
+Inspector!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+         Here.
+
+FAUST
+
+              As many as you may,
+Bring crowds on crowds to labor here;
+Them by reward and rigor cheer;
+Persuade, entice, give ample pay!
+Each day be tidings brought me at what rate
+The moat extends which here we excavate.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_half aloud_)
+
+They speak, as if to me they gave
+Report, not of a moat--but of a grave.[36]
+
+FAUST
+
+A marsh along the mountain chain
+Infecteth what's already won;
+Also the noisome pool to drain--
+My last, best triumph then were won:
+To many millions space I thus should give,
+Though not secure, yet free to toil and live;
+Green fields and fertile; men, with cattle blent,
+Upon the newest earth would dwell content,
+Settled forthwith upon the firm-based hill,
+Up-lifted by a valiant people's skill;
+Within, a land like Paradise; outside,
+E'en to the brink, roars the impetuous tide,
+And as it gnaws, striving to enter there,
+All haste, combined, the damage to repair.
+Yea, to this thought I cling, with virtue rife,
+Wisdom's last fruit, profoundly true:
+Freedom alone he earns as well as life,
+Who day by day must conquer them anew.
+So girt by danger, childhood bravely here,
+Youth, manhood, age, shall dwell from year to year;
+Such busy crowds I fain would see,
+Upon free soil stand with a people free;
+Then to the moment might I say;
+Linger awhile, so fair thou art!
+Nor can the traces of my earthly day
+Through ages from the world depart!
+In the presentiment of such high bliss,
+The highest moment I enjoy--'tis this.
+
+(FAUST _sinks back, the_ LEMURES _lay hold of him and
+lay him upon the ground_.)
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Footnote 1: For lack of space, scientists and historians have been
+excluded.]
+
+[Footnote 2: The chief original sources for the life of Goethe are his
+own autobiographic writings, his letters, his diaries, and his
+conversations. Of the autobiographic writings the most important are
+(1) _Poetry and Truth from my Life_, which ends with the year 1775;
+(2) _Italian Journey_, covering the period from September, 1786, to
+June, 1788; (3) _Campaign in France_ and _Siege of Antwerp_, dealing
+with episodes of the years 1792 and 1793; (4) _Annals (Tag- und
+Jahreshefte)_, which are useful for his later years down to 1823. His
+letters, forty-nine volumes in all, and his diaries, thirteen volumes,
+are included in the great Weimar edition of Goethe's works. His
+conversations, so far as they were recorded, have been well edited by
+W. von Biedermann, ten volumes, Leipzig, 1889-1896.]
+
+[Footnote 3: This earlier version was long supposed to be lost, but in
+1910 a copy of the original manuscript was discovered at Zürich and
+published. Its six books correspond very nearly to the first four of
+the final version.]
+
+[Footnote 4: Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.]
+
+[Footnote 5: Adapted from E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 6: Translator: E.A. Bowring. (All poems in this section
+translated by E.A. Bowring, W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin appear by
+permission of Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.)]
+
+
+[Footnote 7: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 8: Adapted from E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 9: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 10: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 11: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 12: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 13: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 14: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 15: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 16: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 17: W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.]
+
+[Footnote 18: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 19: Translators: W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.]
+
+[Footnote 20: Translators: W. E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.]
+
+[Footnote 21: The title of a lyric piece composed by Schiller in honor
+of the marriage of the hereditary prince of Weimar to the Princess
+Maria of Russia, and performed in 1804.]
+
+[Footnote 22: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 23: Translation: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 24: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 25: Translator: A. I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 26: Translator: A. I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 27: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 28: Translator: A. I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 29: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 30: Translator: A. L. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 31: Harvard Classics (Copyright P. F. Collier & Son).]
+
+[Footnote 32: Harvard Classics (Copyright P. F. Collier & Son).]
+
+[Footnote 33: Permission The Macmillan Co., New York, and G. Bell &
+Sons, Ltd., London.]
+
+[Footnote 34: Permission The Macmillan Co., New York, and G. Bell and
+Sons, Ltd., London.]
+
+[Footnote 35: Not and Tod, the German equivalents for Need and Death,
+form a rhyme. As this cannot be rendered in English, I have introduced
+a slight alteration into my translation.]
+
+[Footnote 36: The play of words contained in the original cannot be
+reproduced in translation, the German for Moat being Graben, and for
+grave Grab.]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The German Classics of The Nineteenth
+and Twentieth Centuries, Volume I., by Editor-in-Chief: Kuno Francke
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11123 ***
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+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #11123 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11123)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The German Classics of The Nineteenth and
+Twentieth Centuries, Volume I., by Editor-in-Chief: Kuno Francke
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries,
+         Volume I.
+       Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English.
+         In Twenty Volumes.
+
+Author: Editor-in-Chief: Kuno Francke
+
+Release Date: February 17, 2004 [EBook #11123]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GERMAN CLASSICS, VOL. I. ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Stan Goodman, Jayam Subramanian and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: On the Way Toward the Grail. By Hans Thoma]
+
+
+
+The
+German Classics
+of
+The Nineteenth and
+Twentieth Centuries
+
+
+
+Masterpieces of German Literature
+Translated into English
+
+
+
+EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
+Kuno Francke, Ph.D., LL.D., Litt.D.
+
+
+
+In Twenty Volumes Illustrated
+
+
+ALBANY, N.Y.
+J.B. LYON COMPANY
+PUBLISHERS
+
+1913
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS OF VOLUME I
+
+Editor's Preface
+
+Publishers Foreword
+
+General Introduction.
+  By Richard M. Meyer
+
+The Life of Goethe.
+  By Calvin Thomas
+
+POEMS
+
+Greeting and Departure.
+  Translated by Charles Wharton Stork
+
+The Heathrose.
+  Adapted from the translation by E.A. Bowring
+
+Mahomet's Song.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Prometheus.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Wanderer's Night-Song.
+  Adapted from the translation by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Sea-Voyage.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+To the Moon.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Fisherman.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Wanderer's Night-Song.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Erl-King.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Godlike.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Mignon.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Proximity of the Beloved One.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Shepherd's Lament.
+  Translated by W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.
+
+Nature and Art
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman.
+
+Comfort in Tears.
+  Translated by W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin
+
+Epilog to Schiller's "Song of the Bell."
+  Translated by W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin
+
+Ergo Bibamus.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Walking Bell.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Found.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Hatem.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+Reunion.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+Procemion.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The One and The All.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+Lines on Seeing Schiller's Skull.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+A Legacy.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Introduction to Hermann and Dorothea.
+  By Arthur H. Palmer
+
+Harmann and Dorothea.
+  Translated by Ellen Frothingham
+
+DRAMAS
+
+Introduction to Iphigenia in Tauris.
+  By Arthur H. Palmer
+
+Iphigenia in Tauris.
+  Translated by Anna Swanwick
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Faust Legend from Marlowe to Goethe.
+  By Kuno Francke
+
+Introduction to Faust.
+  Calvin Thomas
+
+Faust (Part I).
+  Translated by Anna Swanwick
+
+Faust (Part II).
+  Translated by Anna Swanwick
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS-VOLUME I
+
+On the Way Toward the Grail. By Hans
+  Thoma _Frontispiece_
+
+Goethe. By J. Jäger
+
+Goethe. By J. Stieler
+
+Goethe's Houses in Weimar
+
+Goethe in the Campagua. By J.H.W. Tischbein
+
+Monument to Goethe in Berlin. By Fritz Schaper
+
+Monument to Goethe in Rome. By Eberlein
+
+The Death of Goethe. By Fritz Fleischer
+
+The Heathrose. By K. Kogler
+
+Prometheus. By Titian
+
+The Fisherman and the Mermaid. By Georg Papperitz
+
+Hermann's Parents in the Doorway of the Tavern.
+  By Ludwig Richter
+
+Hermann hands to Dorothea the Linen for the Emigrants.
+  By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Mother defending Hermann. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Mother and Son. By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Emigrants in the Village. By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Parson and the Apothecary watch Dorothea. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Hermann and Dorothea meet at the Fountain. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Hermann and Dorothea under the Pear tree. By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Betrothal. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Iphigenia. By Ansehn Feuerbach
+
+The Meeting of Orestes, Iphigenia, and Pylades.
+  By Angelica, Kauffmann
+
+Iphigenia. By Max Nonnenbruch
+
+Faust and Mephistopheles. By Liezen-Mayer
+
+Margaret. By Wilhelm von Kaulbach
+
+Faust and Margaret. By Carl Becker
+
+Faust and Margaret in the Garden. By Liezen-Mayer
+
+The Death of Valentine. By Franz Simm
+
+Margaret's Downfall. By Wilhelm von Kaulbach
+
+
+EDITOR'S PREFACE
+
+It is surprising how little the English-speaking world knows of German
+literature of the nineteenth century. Goethe and Schiller found their
+herald in Carlyle; Fichte's idealistic philosophy helped to mold
+Emerson's view of life; Amadeus Hoffmann influenced Poe; Uhland and
+Heine reverberate in Longfellow; Sudermann and Hauptmann appear in the
+repertory of London and New York theatres--these brief statements
+include nearly all the names which to the cultivated Englishman and
+American of to-day stand for German literature.
+
+THE GERMAN CLASSICS OF THE NINETEENTH AND TWENTIETH CENTURIES has been
+planned to correct this narrow and inadequate view. Here for the first
+time English readers will find a panorama of the whole of German
+literature from Goethe to the present day; here for the first time
+they will find the most representative writers of each period brought
+together and exhibited by their most representative works; here for
+the first time an opportunity will be offered to form a just
+conception of the truly remarkable literary achievements of Germany
+during the last hundred years.
+
+For it is a grave mistake to assume, as has been assumed only too
+often, that, after the great epoch of Classicism and Romanticism in
+the early decades of the nineteenth century, Germany produced but
+little of universal significance, or that, after Goethe and Heine,
+there were but few Germans worthy to be mentioned side by side with
+the great writers of other European countries. True, there is no
+German Tolstoy, no German Ibsen, no German Zola--but then, is there a
+Russian Nietzsche, or a Norwegian Wagner, or a French Bismarck? Men
+like these, men of revolutionary genius, men who start new movements
+and mark new epochs, are necessarily rare and stand isolated in any
+people and at all times. The three names mentioned indicate that
+Germany, during the last fifty years, has contributed a goodly share
+even of such men. Quite apart, however, from such men of overshadowing
+genius and all-controlling power, can it be truly said that Germany,
+since Goethe's time, has been lacking in writers of high aim and
+notable attainment?
+
+It can be stated without reservation that, taken as a whole, the
+German drama of the nineteenth century has maintained a level of
+excellence superior to that reached by the drama of almost any other
+nation during the same period. Schiller's _Wallenstein_ and _Tell_,
+Goethe's _Iphigenie_ and _Faust_, Kleist's _Prinz Friedrich von
+Homburg_, Grillparzer's _Medea_, Hebbel's _Maria Magdalene_ and _Die
+Nibelungen_, Otto Ludwig's _Der Erbförster_, Freytag's _Die
+Journalisten_, Anzengruber's _Der Meineidbauer_, Wilbrandt's _Der
+Meister von Palmyra_, Wildenbruch's _Konig Heinrich_, Sudermann's
+_Heimat_, Hauptmann's _Die Weber_ and _Der arme Heinrich_,
+Hofmannsthal's _Elektra_, and, in addition to all these, the great
+musical dramas of Richard Wagner--this is a century's record of
+dramatic achievement of which any nation might be proud. I doubt
+whether either the French or the Russian or the Scandinavian stage of
+the nineteenth century, as a whole, comes up to this standard.
+Certainly, the English stage has nothing which could in any way be
+compared with it.
+
+That German lyric verse of the last hundred years should have been
+distinguished by beauty of structure, depth of feeling, and wealth of
+melody, is not to be wondered at if we remember that this was the
+century of the revival of folk-song, and that it produced such
+song-composers as Schubert and Schumann and Robert Franz and Hugo Wolf
+and Richard Strauss. But it seems strange that, apart from Heine, even
+the greatest of German lyric poets, such as Platen, Lenau, Mörike,
+Annette von Droste, Geibel, Liliencron, Dehmel, Münchhausen, Rilke,
+should be so little known beyond the borders of the Fatherland.
+
+The German novel of the past century was, for a long time,
+unquestionably inferior to both the English and the French novel of
+the same epoch. But in the midst of much that is tiresome and involved
+and artificial, there stand out, even in the middle of the century,
+such masterpieces of characterization as Otto Ludwig's _Zwischen
+Himmel und Erde_ or Wilhelm Raabe's _Der Hungerpastor_, such
+delightful revelations of genuine humor as Fritz Reuter's _Ut mine
+Stromtid_, such penetrating studies of social conditions as Gustav
+Freytag's _Soll und Haben_. And during the last third of the century
+there has clearly developed a new, forcible, original style of German
+novel writing. Seldom has the short story been handled more skilfully
+and felicitously than by such men as Paul Heyse, Gottfried Keller, C.
+F. Meyer, Theodor Storm. Seldom has the novel of tragic import and
+passion been treated with greater refinement and delicacy than in such
+works as Fontane's _Effi Briest_, Ricarda Huch's _Ludolf Ursleu_,
+Wilhelm von Polenz's _Der Büttnerbauer_, or Ludwig Thoma's _Andreas
+Vöst_. And it may be doubted whether, at the present moment, there is
+any country where the novel is represented by so many gifted writers
+or exhibits such exuberant vitality, such sturdy truthfulness, such
+seriousness of purpose, or such a wide range of imagination as in
+contemporary Germany.
+
+All these dramatists, lyric poets, and novelists, and with them not a
+few essayists, philosophers, orators, and publicists,[1] of the
+nineteenth and twentieth centuries will speak in the following volumes
+to America and other countries of the English language. They have been
+arranged, in the main, chronologically. The first three volumes have
+been given to the mature work of Goethe and Schiller--time-tested and
+securely niched. Volumes IV and V contain the principal Romanticists,
+including Fichte and Schelling; Volume VI brings Heine, Grillparzer,
+and Beethoven to view;
+
+Volume VII, Hegel and Young Germany; Volume VIII, Auerbach, Gotthelf,
+and Fritz Reuter; Volume IX, Hebbel and Ludwig; Volume X, Bismarck,
+Moltke, Lassalle. Of the second half of the collection there might be
+singled out: Volume XIV (Gottfried Keller and C.F. Meyer); Volume XV
+(Schopenhauer, Wagner, Nietzsche, Emperor William II.); Volume XVIII
+(Gerhart Hauptmann, Detlev von Liliencron, Richard Dehmel). The last
+two volumes will be devoted to the most recent of contemporary authors.
+
+The editors have been fortunate in associating with themselves a
+notable number of distinguished contributors from many universities
+and colleges in this country and abroad. A general introduction to the
+whole series has been written by Professor Richard M. Meyer of the
+University of Berlin. The last two volumes will be in charge of
+Professor Julius Petersen of the University of Basel. The
+introductions to Goethe and Schiller have been prepared by Professor
+Calvin Thomas, of Columbia University; that to the Romantic
+Philosophers by Professor Frank Thilly, of Cornell University; that to
+Richard Wagner by Professor W. R. Spalding, of Harvard University.
+And, similarly, every important author in this collection will be
+introduced by some authoritative and well known specialist.
+
+The crux of the whole undertaking lies in the correctness and adequacy
+of the translations. How difficult, if not impossible, a really
+satisfactory translation is, especially in lyric poetry, no one
+realizes more clearly than the editors. Their only comfort is that
+they have succeeded in obtaining the assistance of many well trained
+and thoroughly equipped scholars, among them such names of poets as
+Hermann Hagedorn, Percy MacKaye, George Sylvester Viereck, and
+Martin Schütze.
+
+Kuno Francke.
+
+
+PUBLISHERS' FOREWORD
+
+The German Classics is the first work issued by The German Publication
+Society in pursuance of a comprehensive plan to open to the
+English-speaking people of the world the treasures of German thought
+and achievement in Literature, Art and Science.
+
+In the production of this monumental work the thanks and appreciation
+of the Publishers are especially due to Hugo Reisinger, Esq., whose
+loyal support and constant encouragement have made possible its
+publication.
+
+
+General Introduction
+
+By Richard M. Meyer, Ph.D. Professor of German Literature, University
+of Berlin.
+
+Men formerly pictured the origin and development of a literature as an
+order less play of incalculable forces; out of a seething chaos forms
+more or less definite arose, and then, one day, behold! the literary
+earth was there, with sun and moon, water and mountains, animals and
+men. This conception was intimately connected with that of the origin
+of individual literary compositions. These likewise--since the new
+"theory of genius," spreading from England, had gained recognition
+throughout the whole of Europe, especially in those countries speaking
+the Germanic languages--were imagined to be a mere succession of
+inspirations and even of improvisations. This view of the subject can
+no longer be held either wholly or in part, though in the origin and
+growth of literature, as in every other origin and development, much
+manifestly remains that is still incomprehensible and incalculable.
+But even as regards the individual literary work, writers
+themselves--as latterly Richard Dehmel--have laid almost too strong an
+emphasis on the element of conscious deliberation. And concerning the
+whole literary product of an individual, which seems to offer the most
+instructive analogies to the literary achievement of a people, we
+received a short time ago a remarkable opinion from Carl Spitteler. He
+asserts that he is guided in his choice of definite styles and
+definite forms by an absolutely clear purpose; that he has, for
+example, essayed every kind of metre which could possibly be suited to
+his "cosmic" epic, or that he has written a novelette solely in order
+to have once written a novelette. Although in these confessions, as
+well as in Edgar Allen Poe's celebrated _Poet's Art_, self-delusion
+and pleasure in the paradoxical may very likely be mingled, it still
+remains true that such dicta as these point to certain peculiarities
+in the development of literatures. Experiments with all kinds of
+forms, imitation of certain literary _genres_ without intrinsic
+necessity, and deliberate selection of new species, play a larger part
+in the history of modern German literature than people for a long time
+wished to admit. It is true, however, that all this experimenting,
+imitating, and speculating, in the end serves a higher necessity, as
+well in the poet of genius as in a great literature.
+
+Three kinds of forces virtually determine the general trend of all
+artistic development as, indeed, of all other forms of
+evolution--forces which constitute the sum total of those that we
+comprehend under the joint name of _tradition_, a sum total of
+progressive tendencies which we will designate as _esthetic ideals_,
+and, mediating between the two, the _typical development of the
+individuals themselves_--above all, naturally, individuals of genius
+who really create literature.
+
+These powers are present everywhere, but in very different proportion.
+Characteristic of Romance literatures and also of the English, is the
+great predominance of the conservative elements. Thus not only is the
+literature of the constitutional mother-country democratic, but also
+the literature of France, otherwise so decidedly aristocratic: a
+majority dictates its laws to the distinguished individual and is
+inclined to ostracize him, if too headstrong, and exile him from the
+"Republic of Letters." This, for instance, is what happened to Lord
+Byron among the British. On the other hand, German literature, like
+Germanic literatures in general, is disposed to concede, at least at
+times, a dictatorial leadership to the individual, even at the cost of
+tradition--as, for example, to a Klopstock, a Goethe, or a Richard
+Wagner. But, in exchange, the leader is often forced to uphold his
+power, no matter how much it may have been due to his achievements, by
+coercive measures--as, again for example, by means of a prætorian
+guard of partisans, such as Klopstock first created for himself in the
+Göttinger "Hain," but which was most effectively organized by Wagner,
+and such as Victor Hugo, imitating the German model, possessed in the
+Young Guard which applauded _Hernani_. Another method of enforcing his
+mastery is the organization of a systematic reign of terror,
+consisting of bitter satires, such as Schiller and Goethe (after the
+model of Pope) founded in the _Xenien_, and the Romanticists
+established in many different forms--satires much more personal and
+much better aimed than was the general sort of mockery which the
+Romance or Romanized imitators of Horace flung at Bavius and Mævius.
+In saying all this, however, we have at the same time made it clear
+that the power and influence of the individual of genius receives much
+more positive expression in German literature than in those which
+produced men like Corneille, Calderon, yes, even Dante and
+Shakespeare. German literary history is, more than any other, occupied
+with the _Individual_.
+
+If we now try rapidly to comprehend to what extent each one of the
+already enumerated literary forces has participated in the development
+of modern German literature, we must, first of all, emphasize the fact
+that here the question is, intrinsically, one of construction--of a
+really new creation.
+
+German literature since 1700 is not simply the continuation of former
+literature with the addition of radical innovations, as is the case
+with the literature of the same period in England, but was
+systematically constructed on new theories--if it may be said that
+nature and history systematically "construct." A destruction, a
+suspension of tradition, had taken place, such as no other civilized
+nation has ever experienced in a like degree--in which connection the
+lately much-disputed question as to whether the complete decay dates
+from the time of the Thirty Years' War or the latter merely marks the
+climax of a long period of decadence may be left to take care of
+itself. In any event, about the year 1700 the literature of Germany
+stood lower than that of any other nation, once in possession of a
+great civilization and literature, has ever stood in recent times.
+Everything, literally everything, had to be created _de novo_; and it
+is natural that a nation which had to struggle for its very existence,
+for which life itself had become a daily questioning of fate, could at
+first think of renovation only through its conservative forces. Any
+violent commotion in the religious or political, in the economic or
+social, sphere, as well as in the esthetic, might prove fatal, or at
+least appear to be so.
+
+The strongest conservative factor of a literature is the language.
+Upon its relative immutability depends, in general, the possibility of
+literary compositions becoming the common possession of many
+generations--depends absolutely all transmission. Especially is poetic
+language wont to bear the stamp of constancy; convenient formulas,
+obvious rhymes, established epithets, favorite metaphors, do not, in
+periods of exhaustion, afford much choice in the matter of
+phraseology. On the other hand, however, a new tenor of thought, often
+enough a new tenor of feeling, is continually pressing forward to
+demand a medium of expression. This battle between the established
+linguistic form and the new content gives rise to charming, but at the
+same time alarming, conflicts. In the seventeenth century it was felt
+strongly how much the store of linguistic expression had diminished,
+partly on account of a violent and careless "working of the mine,"
+which made prodigal use of the existing medium, as was the case in the
+prose of Luther and, above all, of Johann Fischart and his
+contemporaries; partly on account of a narrow confinement to a small
+number of ideas and words, as in the church hymns.
+
+This impoverishment of the language the century of the great war tried
+to remedy in two opposite ways. For the majority the easiest solution
+was to borrow from their richer neighbors, and thus originated that
+affectation of all things foreign, which, in speaking, led to the most
+variegated use and misuse of foreign words. Patriotically-minded men,
+on the contrary, endeavored to cultivate the purity of their mother
+tongue the while they enriched it; this, above all, was the ambition
+of the various "Linguistic Societies." Their activity, though soon
+deprived of a wide usefulness by pedantry and a clannish spirit,
+prepared the way for great feats of linguistic reorganization. Through
+Christian Wolff a philosophic terminology was systematically created;
+from Pietism were received new mediums of expression for intimate
+conditions of the soul; neither must we quite overlook the fact that
+to some extent a new system of German titles and official designations
+was associated with the new institutions of the modern state. More
+important, however, than these details--which might have been
+accomplished by men like Johann Gottfried Herder, Immanuel Kant and
+Goethe; like the statesman, Heinrich Freiherr von Stein; and the
+warrior, General von Scharnhorst--was this fact that, in general, an
+esthetic interest had been again awakened in the language, which too
+long had served as a mere tool. Also the slowly developing study of
+language was of some help; even the falsest etymology taught people to
+look upon words as organisms; even the most superficial grammar, to
+observe broad relationships and parallel formations. So, then, the
+eighteenth century could, in the treatment of the mother tongue, enter
+upon a goodly heritage, of which for a long time Johann Christoph
+Gottsched might not unjustly be counted the guardian. It was a
+thoroughly conservative linguistic stewardship, which received
+gigantic expression in Adelung's Dictionary--with all its
+deficiencies, the most important German dictionary that had been
+compiled up to that time. Clearness, intelligibleness, exactitude were
+insisted upon. It was demanded that there should be a distinct
+difference between the language of the writer and that in everyday
+use, and again a difference between poetic language and prose; on the
+other hand, great care had to be taken that the difference should
+never become too great, so that common intelligibility should not
+suffer. Thus the new poetic language of Klopstock, precisely on
+account of its power and richness, was obliged to submit to the
+bitterest mockery and the most injudicious abuse from the partisans of
+Gottsched. As the common ideal of the pedagogues of language, who were
+by no means merely narrow-minded pedants, one may specify that which
+had long ago been accomplished for France--namely, a uniform choice of
+a stock of words best suited to the needs of a clear and luminous
+literature for the cultivated class, and the stylistic application of
+the same. Two things, above all, were neglected: they failed to
+realize (as did France also) the continual development of a healthy
+language, though the ancients had glimpses of this; and they failed
+(this in contrast to France) to comprehend the radical differences
+between the various forms of literary composition. Therefore the
+pre-classical period still left enough to be done by the classical.
+
+It was Klopstock who accomplished the most; he created a new, a lofty
+poetic language, which was to be recognized, not by the use of
+conventional metaphors and swelling hyperboles, but by the direct
+expression of a highly exalted mood. However, the danger of a forced
+overstraining of the language was combatted by Christoph Martin
+Wieland, who formed a new and elegant narrative prose on Greek,
+French, and English models, and also introduced the same style into
+poetic narrative, herein abetted by Friedrich von Hagedorn as his
+predecessor and co-worker. Right on the threshold, then, of the great
+new German literature another mixture of styles sprang up, and we see,
+for example, Klopstock strangely transplanting his pathos into the
+field of theoretical researches on grammar and metrics, and Wieland
+not always keeping his irony aloof from the most solemn subjects. But
+beside them stood Gotthold Ephraim Lessing who proved himself to be
+the most thoughtful of the reformers of poetry, in that he emphasized
+the divisions--especially necessary for the stylistic development of
+German poetry--of literary categories and the arts. The most
+far-reaching influence, however, was exercised by Herder, when he
+preached that the actual foundation of all poetic treatment of
+language was the individual style, and exemplified the real nature of
+original style, i. e., inwardly-appropriate modes of expression, by
+referring, on the one hand, to the poetry of the people and, on the
+other, to Shakespeare or the Bible, the latter considered as a higher
+type of popular poetry.
+
+So the weapons lay ready to the hand of the dramatist Lessing, the
+lyric poet Goethe, and the preacher Herder, who had helped to forge
+them for their own use; for drama, lyrics, and oratory separate
+themselves quite naturally from ordinary language, and yet in their
+subject matter, in the anticipation of an expectant audience, in the
+unavoidable connection with popular forms of speech, in singing, and
+the very nature of public assemblies, they have a basis that prevents
+them from becoming conventional. But not quite so favorable was the
+condition of the different varieties of narrative composition. Here a
+peculiarly specific style, such as the French novel especially
+possesses, never reached complete perfection. The style of Wieland
+would necessarily appear too light as soon as the subject matter of
+the novel became more intimate and personal; that of the imitators of
+Homer necessarily too heavy. Perhaps here also Lessing's sense of
+style might have furnished a model of permanent worth, in the same way
+that he furnished one for the comedy and the didactic drama, for the
+polemic treatise and the work of scientific research. For is not the
+tale of the three rings, which forms the kernel of _Nathan the Wise_,
+numbered among the great standard pieces of German elocution, in spite
+of all the contradictions and obscurities which have of late been
+pointed out in it, but which only the eye of the microscopist can
+perceive? In general it is the "popular philosophers" who have, more
+than any one else, produced a fixed prose style; as a reader of good
+but not exclusively classical education once acknowledged to me that
+the German of J.J. Engel was more comprehensible to him and seemed
+more "modern" than that of Goethe. As a matter of fact, the narrator
+Goethe, in the enchanting youthful composition of _Werther_, did
+venture very close to the lyrical, but in his later novels his style
+at times dangerously approached a dry statement of facts, or a
+rhetorically inflated declamation; and even in _The Elective
+Affinities_, which stands stylistically higher than any of his other
+novels, he has not always avoided a certain stiltedness that forms a
+painful contrast to the warmth of his sympathy for the characters. On
+the other hand, in scientific compositions he succeeded in
+accomplishing what had hitherto been unattainable--just because, in
+this case, the new language had first to be created by him.
+
+Seldom are even the great writers of the following period quite free
+from the danger of a lack-lustre style in their treatment of the
+language, above all in narrative composition. It is only in the
+present day that Thomas Mann, Jacob Wassermann, and Ricarda Huch are
+trying along different lines, but with equal zeal, to form a fixed
+individual style for the German prose-epic. The great exceptions of
+the middle period, the writers of prose-epics Jeremias Gotthelf and
+Gottfried Keller, the novelists Paul Heyse and Marie von
+Ebner-Eschenbach, the narrator of anecdotes Ludwig Anzengruber, with
+his greater predecessor Johann Peter Hebel, and his lesser
+contemporary Peter Rosegger, the portrayer of still-life Adalbert
+Stifter and a few others, have, more by a happy instinct than anything
+else, hit upon the style proper to their form of composition, lack of
+which prevents us from enjoying an endless number of prose works of
+the nineteenth century, which, as far as their subject matter goes,
+are not unimportant. In this connection I will only mention Karl
+Gutzkow's novels describing his own period, or, from an earlier time,
+Clemens Brentano's fairy tales, Friedrich Hebbel's humoresques, or
+even the rhetorically emotional historical compositions of Heinrich
+von Treitschke, found in certain parts of his work. But this lack of a
+fixed specific style spread likewise to other forms of composition;
+Schiller's drama became too rhetorical; Friedrich Rückert's lyric
+poetry too prosaically didactic; that of Annette von Droste-Hülshoff
+often too obscure and sketchy.
+
+If, therefore, the struggle with the language was fought out
+successfully by modern German literature only on the battleground of
+the lyric (and even there, as we have seen, not without exceptions),
+on the other hand a second conservative force was placed at the
+service of the literary development with more uniform success, namely
+_Metrics_. To be sure, here again this applies only to verse, for the
+corresponding art of prose rhythm has been as good as lost to the
+Germans, in contrast to the French, and almost more so to the English.
+In prose also a conscious and systematic attempt to make an artistic
+division into paragraphs, chapters, and books, has only been made in
+recent times, above all in and since the writings of Nietzsche. For as
+far as the treatment of language in itself is concerned, German
+literature has hardly yet fully developed an artistic form; writers
+still continue to treat it far too much as a mere tool. But verse is
+felt to be an object for artistic molding, although here too the
+naturalistic dogmas of the Storm and Stress writers, of the
+Romanticists, Young Germans and Ultra-Moderns, have often shaken the
+theories upon which the artistic perfection of our poetry is based.
+
+In this regard, likewise, there was, in the seventeenth century, a
+great difficulty to be overcome. Changes in language, the effect of
+French and Italian style, the influence of music, had weakened the
+foundations of the German art of verse, which were already partly
+broken down by mechanical wear and tear. The comparatively simple
+regulation contrived by an ordinary, though clever, poet, Martin
+Opitz, proved capable of enduring for centuries; a connection was
+established between the accent of verse and natural accent, which at
+the same time, by means of more stringent rules, created barriers
+against variable accent. It was merely a question of arranging the
+words in such fashion that, without forming too great a contradiction
+to the common-place order of words, the way in which the accents were
+placed upon them should result in a regularly alternating rise and
+fall. On the whole, this principle was found to be sufficient until
+the enthusiasm of the new poetic generation demanded a closer
+connection between the poetic form and the variable conditions of the
+soul; they found a way out of the difficulty by carrying a rhythmical
+mood through a variety of metrical divisions, and thus came upon the
+"free rhythms." From whatever source these were derived, either from
+the misunderstood poems of Pindar, from the language of the Bible or
+of the enthusiastic mystics, or from the poetic half-prose of the
+pastoral poet Salomon Gessner, they were, in any case, something new
+and peculiar, and their nature has not been grasped in the least
+degree by the French in their "vers libres," or at any rate only since
+the half-Germanic Fleming Verhaeren. They received an interesting
+development through Goethe and Heinrich Heine, while most of the other
+poets who made use of them, even the greatest one, Novalis, often
+deteriorated either into a regular, if rhymeless, versification, or
+into a pathetic, formless prose.
+
+Another method of procuring new metrical mediums of expression for the
+new wealth of emotions was to borrow. Klopstock naturalized antique
+metres, or rather made them familiar to the school and to cultivated
+poets, while on the other hand Heine's derision of August von Platen's
+set form of verse was welcomed in many circles, and even the elevated
+poems of Friedrich Hölderlin, which approached the antique form,
+remained foreign to the people, like the experiments of Leconte de
+Lisle in France; in Italy it fared otherwise with Carducci's _Odi
+barbare_. Only one antique metre became German, in the same sense that
+Shakespeare had become a German poet; this was the hexameter, alone or
+in connection with the pentameter; for the ratio of its parts to one
+another, on which everything depends in higher metrics, corresponded,
+to some extent, to that of the German couplets. For the same reason
+the sonnet--not, however, without a long and really bitter fight--was
+able to win a secure place in German reflective lyric poetry; indeed
+it had already been once temporarily in our possession during the
+seventeenth century. Thus two important metres had been added to
+German poetry's treasure house of forms: first, the hexameter for a
+continuous narrative of a somewhat epic character, even though without
+high solemnity--which Goethe alone once aspired to in his
+_Achilleis_--and also for shorter epigrammatic or didactic
+observations in the finished manner of the distich; second, the sonnet
+for short mood-pictures and meditations. The era of the German
+hexameter seems, however, to be over at present, while, on the
+contrary, the sonnet, brought to still higher perfection by Platen,
+Moritz von Strachwitz and Paul Heyse, still exercises its old power of
+attraction, especially over poets with a tendency toward Romance art.
+However, both hexameter or distich and sonnet have become, in Germany,
+pure literary forms of composition. While in Italy the sonnet is still
+sung, we are filled with astonishment that Brahms should have set to
+music a distich--_Anacreon_. Numerous other forms, taken up
+principally by the Romantic school and the closely related "Exotic
+School," have remained mere literary playthings. For a certain length
+of time the ghasel seemed likely to be adopted as a shell to contain
+scattered thoughts, wittily arranged, or (almost exclusively by
+Platen) also for mood-pictures; but without doubt the undeservedly
+great success of Friedrich von Bodenstedt's _Mirza Schaffy_ has cast
+permanent discredit on this form. The favorite stanza of Schiller is
+only one of the numerous strophe forms of our narrative or reflective
+lyric; it has never attained an "ethos" peculiar to itself.
+Incidentally, the French alexandrines were the fashion for a short
+time after Victor Hugo's revival of them was revivified by Ferdinand
+Freiligrath, and were recently used with variations by Carl Spitteler
+(which, however, he denies) as a foundation for his epic poems. So,
+too, the "Old German rhymed verse" after the manner of Hans Sachs,
+enjoyed a short popularity; and one saw virtuosos playing with the
+canzone or the makame. On the whole, however, German lyric poetry is
+rather made up of simple formations in the style of the folk-song,
+especially since the important rhythmic transformation of this
+material by Heine created new possibilities for accommodating the
+inner form to new subject matter without conspicuously changing the
+outer form. For two great simplifying factors have, since Goethe, been
+predominant in protecting our lyric poetry from unfruitful
+artificiality; the influence of the folk-song and the connection with
+music have kept it more full of vital energy than the too literary
+lyric poetry of the French, and richer in variety than the too
+cultivated lyric of the English. Whoever shut the door on the
+influences spoken of, as did Franz Grillparzer or Hebbel, and, in a
+different way, Annette von Droste-Hülshoff or Heinrich Leuthold, at
+the same time nullified a good part of his efficiency.
+
+The drama almost exclusively assumed a foreign, though kindred, form
+as a garb for the more elevated styles of composition: namely, the
+blank verse of the English stage, which Lessing's _Nathan the Wise_
+had popularized and A.W. Schlegel's Shakespeare had rendered
+omnipotent, and which Schiller forced upon his successors. The
+Romanticists, by playing unsuccessfully with different forms, as in
+Ludwig Tieck's _Octavianus_, or Immerman's _Alexis_, or by adopting
+pure antique or Spanish metres, attempted in vain to free themselves
+from the restraint of form, the great danger of which consisted in its
+similarity to common-place sentence construction, so that the verse
+ran the risk either of becoming prosaic, or else, in trying forcibly
+to avoid this, of growing bombastic. An escape was provided by
+inserting, in moments of emotion, a metre of a more lyrical quality
+into the uniform structure of the usual vehicle of dramatic dialogue,
+particularly when partaking of the nature of a monologue; as Goethe
+did, for example, in the "Song of the Fates" in _Iphigenia_, that most
+metrically perfect of all German dramatic poems, and as Schiller
+continued to do with increased boldness in the songs introduced into
+_Mary Stuart_. Perhaps the greatest perfection in such use of the
+principle of the "free rhythm" as applied to the drama, was reached by
+Franz Grillparzer in the _Golden Fleece_, on the model of certain
+fragments by Goethe, such as the _Prometheus_. On the other hand, the
+interesting experiments in the _Bride of Messina_ are of more
+importance for the development of the opera into a work of art
+complete in itself, than for that of the drama. In general, however,
+it is to be remarked as a peculiarity of modern German drama, that it
+seeks to escape from monotony, which the French classical theatre
+hardly ever succeeded in avoiding, by calling in the aid of the other
+arts. Plastic art is often employed for scenic arrangement, and music
+to produce effects on and behind the stage. Both were made use of by
+Schiller; and it was under his influence that they were tried by
+Goethe in his later period--though we find a remarkable sporadic
+appearance of them even as early as _Götz_ and _Klavigo_. The mastery
+which Grillparzer also attained in this respect has been striven after
+by his fellow countrymen with some degree of success: as, for example,
+by Ferdinand Raimund, by Ludwig Anzengruber, and also by Friedrich
+Halm and Hugo von Hofmannsthal.
+
+Besides blank verse, the only other garb in vogue for the serious
+drama was prose: this was not only used for realistic pictures of
+conditions of a decidedly cheerful type (since Lessing had introduced
+the _bourgeois_ dramas of Diderot into Germany), but also for pathetic
+tragedies, the vital power of which the lack of stylistic disguising
+of language was supposed to increase. This was the form employed in
+the Storm and Stress drama, and therefore in the prison scene of
+_Faust_, as also in Schiller's youthful dramas, and again we find it
+adopted by Hebbel and the Young Germans, and by the naturalistic
+school under the leadership of Ibsen. The Old German rhymed verse
+found only a temporary place between these two forms. It was glorified
+and made almost sacrosanct by having been used for the greatest of our
+dramas, Goethe's _Faust_; Wildenbruch in particular tried to gain new
+effects with it. Other attempts also went hand in hand with
+deeper-reaching efforts to reconstruct the inner form of the drama;
+thus the tendency to a veiled polyphony of language in the folk-scenes
+of Christian Dietrich Grabbe and in all the plays of Heinrich von
+Kleist; this in Hofmannsthal's _Oedipus_ led to regular choruses, of
+quite a different type, however, from those of the _Bride of Messina_.
+Gerhart Hauptmann's _Weavers_ and _Florian Geyer_ may be considered
+the culminating points of this movement, in spite of their apparently
+entirely prosaic form.
+
+Modern German drama, which in its peculiar style is still largely
+unappreciated because it has always been measured by its real or
+supposed models, is, together with the free-rhythm lyric, the greatest
+gift bestowed upon the treasure of forms of the world-literature by
+the literature of Germany which has so often played the part of
+recipient.
+
+On the other hand, when speaking of the development of narrative
+prose, we should remember what we have already accomplished in that
+line. The "Novelle" alone has attained a fixed form, as a not too
+voluminous account of a remarkable occurrence. It is formally
+regulated in advance by the absolute domination of a decisive
+incident--as, for example, the outbreak of a concealed love in Heyse,
+or the moment of farewell in Theodor Storm. All previous incidents are
+required to assist in working up to this climax; all later ones are
+introduced merely to allow its echo to die away. In this austerity of
+concentration the German "Novelle," the one rigidly artistic form of
+German prose, is related to the "Short Story" which has been so
+eagerly heralded in recent times, especially by America. The "Novelle"
+differs, however, from this form of literary composition, which
+Maupassant cultivated with the most masterly and unrivaled success, by
+its subordination to a climax; whereas the Short Story, in reality, is
+usually a condensed novel, that is to say, the history of a
+development concentrated in a few incidents. Our literature also
+possesses such short "sketches," but the love of psychological detail
+in the development of the plot nearly always results in the greater
+diffuseness of the novel. The real "Novelle" is, however, at least as
+typical of the Germans as the Short Story is of the Americans, and in
+no other form of literary composition has Germany produced so many
+masters as in this--and in the lyric. For the latter is closely
+related to the German "Novelle" because it loves to invest the way to
+and from the culminating point with the charm produced by a certain
+mood, as the half-German Bret Harte loves to do in similar artistic
+studies, but the Russian Tschechow never indulges himself in, and the
+Frenchman Maupassant but seldom. On this account our best writers of
+"Novellen" have also been, almost without exception, eminent lyric
+poets; such were Goethe, Tieck, Eichendorff, Mörike, Keller, Heyse,
+Theodor Storm and C.F. Meyer; whereas, in the case of Marie von
+Ebner-Eschenbach, who otherwise would form an exception, even what
+appears to be a "Novelle" is in reality a "small novel."
+
+The novel, on the contrary, still enjoys in Germany the dangerous
+privilege of formlessness. In its language it varies from the vague
+lyric of romantic composition to the bureaucratic sobriety of
+mechanically-compiled studies of real life. In its outline, in the
+rhythm of its construction, in the division of its parts and the way
+in which they are brought into relief, it has, in spite of masterly
+individual performances, never attained a specific literary form, such
+as has long been possessed by the English and the French novels.
+Likewise the inclination, sanctioned by Goethe and the Romantic
+school, to interpolate specimens of the least formed half-literary
+_genres_--namely, letters and diaries--worked against the adoption of
+a fixed form, notwithstanding that this expedient augmented the
+great--often indeed too great--inner richness of the German novel.
+Thus the German novel, as well as the so justly favorite form of
+letters and diaries, is of infinitely more importance as a human or
+contemporary "document" than as a direct work of art. We have,
+however, already drawn attention to the fact that the never-failing
+efforts to clothe the novel in a more esthetically pure form have, in
+our own day, happily increased.
+
+The traditional _material_ of literary compositions is, however, also
+a conservative power, just as are language and form. The stock of
+dominating motives naturally undergoes just as many transformations as
+language or metrics; but, in both cases, what already exists has a
+determining influence on everything new, often going so far as to
+suppress the latter entirely. Customary themes preferably claim the
+interest of the reader; as, for example, in the age of religious
+pictures it would have been exceedingly hard to procure an order for a
+purely worldly painting. The artists themselves unconsciously glide
+into the usual path, and what was intended to be a world-poem flows
+off into the convenient worn channel of the love-story. But the
+vivifying and deepening power of the Germanic spirit has here, more
+than in any other domain, destroyed the opposing force of inertia.
+
+The oldest poetry is confined to such subjects as are of universal
+interest--one could also say of universal importance. War and the
+harvest, the festivals of the gods and the destinies of the tribe, are
+the subjects of song. These things retain their traditional interest
+even where a healthy communal life no longer exists. Epochs which are
+absolutely wanting in political understanding still cultivate the
+glory of Brutus in an epic or dramatic form; or those ages which can
+scarcely lay claim to a living religious interest still join in
+choruses in honor of Apollo or in honor of the Christian religion.
+Every literature carries with it a large and respectable ballast of
+sensations that are no longer felt, of objects that are no longer
+seen, culminating in the spring-songs of poets confined to their room,
+and the wine-songs of the water-drinkers. A stagnating literature, as
+that of the seventeenth century was essentially, always has an
+especially large amount of such rubbish. Poems composed for certain
+occasions, in the worst sense--that is to say, poems of congratulation
+and condolence written for money, trivial reflections and mechanical
+devotion, occupy an alarmingly large space in the lyric of this
+period. Drama is entirely confined, and the novel for the greater
+part, to the dressing up in adopted forms of didactic subject matter
+of the most general type. Men of individuality are, however, not
+altogether lacking: such were lyric poets like Andreas Gryphius and
+Paul Fleming, gnomologists like Johann Scheffler, and narrators like
+J.J. Christoffel von Grimmelshausen; but even with them the personal
+note does not dare to sound openly. The first to give free expression
+again to intimate sensations is Christian Günther, and he arouses
+thereby contradiction, together with admiration. The court poets about
+the year 1700 work more in a negative way, i. e., by that which they
+did not express in their verses. The great merit of the pre-classical
+writers is to have created space, on the one hand, for personal
+sensations, and, on the other, for the great new thoughts of the age.
+Hagedorn, with the elegant frivolity of the man of the world,
+continued the necessary sifting of antiquated material; Albrecht von
+Haller, with the deep seriousness of the great student of nature, once
+more squarely faced the eternal problems. But the entire wealth of
+inner experience, in its most exclusively individual sense, was first
+revealed, not only to the literature of Germany but to modern
+literature in general, by Klopstock. Along this path Goethe pressed
+forward gloriously, his whole poetic work presenting, according to his
+own testimony, a single great confession. From Haller, on the
+contrary, proceeds the effort to develop a poetical style that would
+enable individuals to share in the great thoughts of the age. Lessing
+strides onward from _Minna von Barnhelm_--the first drama of
+contemporary history since the _Persians_ of Æschylus--to _Nathan the
+Wise_, herein following the lead of the "literature with a distinct
+purpose" (_Tendenz-Dichtung_) of France, and especially of Voltaire,
+otherwise antipathetic to Lessing. Lessing's great dramatic heir is
+Schiller, whose tradition is in turn carried on by Kleist, the latter
+allowing his personality to penetrate the subject matter far more even
+than either of his predecessors.
+
+But the utmost was done by Goethe, when in _Werther_ and _Götz_, in
+_Prometheus_ or _Satyros_, but above all eventually in _Faust_, he
+lived through in advance--or, as he himself said, he "anticipated"
+(_vorfühlte_)--the peculiar experience of the age with such intensity
+that, in the work which resulted, the individual experience became the
+direct experience of the whole generation.
+
+Out of the "reverence for nature" (_Naturfrömmigkeit_) with which he
+contemplated all created things--from "the Cedar of Lebanon to the
+hyssop which grows on the wall," from the mighty movement of the
+stream in _Mahomet_ to the bit of cheese that is weighed by the old
+woman in _Die Geschwister_--out of all comes a widening of the poetic
+horizon, the like of which had never before been seen in any age. The
+Romanticists in reality only made a watchword out of this practice of
+Goethe's when they demanded "progressive universal poetry," by which
+they meant that the poet should live through the whole experience of
+creation in his own person. In demanding this, they--as the aging
+Goethe had himself done--formed too narrow a conception of the
+personal, and rejected too absolutely the problems of politics and of
+science, so that once more a narrowing process ensued. But even in
+their own ranks this tendency was offset by the exigency of the times;
+after the wars of liberation, political and in general, poetry written
+with a purpose was actually in the ascendency. The poetry of the mood,
+like that of a Mörike, remained for a long time almost unknown on
+account of its strictly intimate character. In the success of Ernst
+von Wildenbruch we see provisionally the last victory of this sort of
+literature--which directly proclaims what is worth striving for--at
+least in its loftier form. For the contemporary novel constantly takes
+for its subject the emancipation of woman, or the fight for culture,
+the protection of the Ostmark, or the fight against alcohol.
+
+On the other hand the Romantic school has also broadened the realm of
+poetic material in a very important manner, by adding to it the
+provinces of the phantastic, the visionary, the fairy-like, and by
+giving to the symbolical an undreamed-of expansion.
+
+On the whole, modern German literature has probably a richer field
+from which to choose her material than any other literature can boast
+of. In fact it is perhaps too variegated, and thus, because of the
+richness and originality of its subject matter, allows too much
+latitude to genius. One field only in poetry, considered from the
+viewpoint of real art, is almost uncultivated. All the efforts and all
+the attempts on the part of both Catholics and Protestants have not
+succeeded in producing religious poems of any degree of importance
+since Annette von Droste-Hülshoff ceased to sing; whereas, on the
+other hand, poetry that is hostile to the church has brought to
+maturity some great productions, not only in Anzengruber or Karl
+Schoenherr, in Friedrich Theodor Vischer, in Storm, and Keller, but,
+above all, in Nietzsche. A turn in the tide that seems just now to be
+taking place is exemplified in the important epic poems of Enrica von
+Handel-Mazzetti.
+
+Finally, as the last and, in a certain sense, the strongest, pillar of
+permanency we will name the public. It is just as much a product as a
+contributing factor of literature; in both respects, however,
+preëminently important as a conservative force. The predominant and
+enduring tendencies, forms, and subjects are naturally chiefly
+conducive to the formation of a circle of "fixed subscribers" among
+the crowd of possible patrons. These subscribers, on their part, of
+course insist upon the preservation of those tendencies, forms, and
+subjects by which they are attracted. In the same way that, in
+general, a large "reading world," or a regular public for a theatre,
+or a solid community of devotees for each of the different species of
+song (as for example, the religious song, the folk-song, the student's
+song) is organized, so do important personalities call into being a
+special following of admirers, such as the partisans of Hebbel, the
+Wagnerians, and the adherents of Stefan George. But these narrow
+circles are often much more intolerant of every effort on the part of
+the master to depart from the program he has sworn to, than are
+outsiders. The history of the German public, unlike that of the
+English or French, is less a church-history than a sect-history.
+Schiller alone succeeded in becoming the national poet of his
+people--and he had his merits as well as his weaknesses to thank for
+it. Lessing is the one who comes next to him, whereas Goethe really
+reached the masses in only a few of his compositions. On the other
+hand, he made a stronger impression upon, and gave more happiness to,
+the intellectual classes than any of our poets since Klopstock. After
+him, only poets of a decidedly esoteric character, such as Stefan
+George or Friedrich Nietzsche, have had such a profound effect or one
+so capable of stirring the remoter depths of the soul. Even with Jean
+Paul the impression produced was more superficial. Latterly, however,
+periodicals, lecture-courses and clubs have replaced the
+"_caucus_"--which was formerly held by the most influential readers
+and hearers of the literary fraternities. This change has gone so far
+that the intimacy of the relations between a poet and his admirers,
+which was still possible in the early days of Hauptmann, Hofmannsthal,
+George, and Dehmel, now actually exists only for those poets who have
+not attained any special renown, such as Alfred Mombert, or, perhaps,
+we might also include Spitteler. An amalgamation of the different
+groups, which in Germany are wont to prove their love for their patron
+by combatting his supposed or real opponents rather than by actively
+fostering his artistic tendencies, might have produced a strong and
+effective reading public. But sooner can a stenographer of the Stolze
+school agree with one of the Gabelsberger system than can a votary of
+Dehmel dare to recognize the greatness in George, an admirer of
+Schnitzler see the importance of Herbert Eulenberg, or a friend of
+Gustav Frenssen acknowledge the power of Ricarda Huch. Our public, by
+its separatist taste and the unduly emphasized obstinacy of its
+antipathies, will continue for a long time still to hinder that unity,
+which, rising above even a just recognition of differences, is the
+only element which makes a great literature possible. Of course the
+critics are to be reckoned among the public, whether we consider
+criticism by professional reviewers or the more discriminating
+criticism of theatre directors, composers, etc.
+
+In all the foregoing discussion of the prevailingly conservative
+forces in the development of literature we have seen that none of
+these forces has a completely restraining effect. Language always
+undergoes a certain change, even in the most benumbed periods, since
+it is obliged to suit itself to the new demands of trade, of society,
+even of literature itself. We also saw that form and material were not
+an inert mass, but were in continual, though often slow, movement.
+Finally, though the public itself always demands essentially the same
+thing, it has, nevertheless, new variations which are forced upon it
+by its avidity for new subjects; it also demands, when it has enjoyed
+a higher artistic education (as in the days of the Classical and
+Romantic writers), perfection of technique and increase in
+specifically artistic values. Between the abiding and the progressive,
+between the conservative and revolutionary tendencies, _the typical
+development of the individual himself_ takes its place as a natural
+intermediary factor. No literary "generation" is composed of men
+actually of the same age. Beside the quite young who are merely
+panting to express themselves, stand the mature who exercise an
+esthetic discernment, even as regards their own peculiar experience;
+finally, there are also the older men who have already said their say.
+In the same way every public is made up of people of all ages. These
+make different demands of their poets; youth wishes to conquer,
+manhood to fortify, old age merely not to lose. It is self-evident
+that points of conformity are to be found between the most widely
+differing fields: as, for example, conservative tendencies are present
+in the camp of the destroyers, revolutionary tendencies in that of the
+conservatives. In other words, in every community of men, no matter of
+what description, who are united by any kind of higher interest, new
+ideals grow up out of this very community of interest. Men who happen
+to be thrown together mutually cause one another's demands to
+increase; those who work in common try to outdo one another. Out of
+their midst personalities arise, who, brought up with the loftiest
+ideals, or often spurred on by the supineness of the public, with
+passionate earnestness make what merely filled up the leisure hours of
+others the sole purpose of their lives. Thus, in Germany above all,
+the new ideal has been born again and again, constituting the
+strongest motive power which exists, besides the personality of
+genius itself.
+
+Of the greatest importance, to begin with, is the _ideal of a national
+literature itself_. Gottsched was the first in Germany, if not to
+apprehend it, at least to ponder it and to advocate it with persistent
+zeal. The literature of antiquity and the literature of France offered
+types of fixed national units. The affinity between the two as
+national units had been pointed out in France and England by means of
+the celebrated "Combat of the ancients and moderns," which also first
+gave living writers sufficient courage to think of comparing modern
+art with ancient.
+
+Gottsched presented a program which he systematically strove to carry
+out, and in which one of the most important places is given to the
+building up of an artistic theatre, after the model of the great
+civilized nations. He surely had as much right to show some
+intolerance toward the harlequin and the popular stage as Lessing (who
+supplanted him while continuing his work) had to indulge in a like
+prejudice against the classical theatre of the French. Lessing,
+however, as we have already seen, goes at the same time more deeply
+into the matter by proposing not only a systematic but also an organic
+construction of the separate _genres_, and Herder took the last step
+when he demanded an autochthonous growth--that is to say, a
+development of art out of the inner necessity of personalities on the
+one hand, and of nationalities on the other. To be sure, the great
+poets who now appeared were not included in the program, and Gottsched
+did not appreciate Haller, nor did Lessing form a correct estimate of
+Goethe, or Herder of Schiller. There is, however, a mysterious
+connection between the aspirations of the nation and the appearance
+of genius.
+
+Klopstock probably felt most directly what was wanting in the
+literature of his people, as he was also the most burning patriot of
+all our classical writers; and at the same time, as is proved by the
+_Republic of Letters_, his strange treatise on the art of poetry, he
+was the one among them who bore the most resemblance to the literary
+pedant of the old days. He is, therefore, continually occupied with
+the comparison between German and foreign art, language, and
+literature, which endeavor was continued later on and with other
+methods by A.W. Schlegel. But Herder also, in his comparison of the
+native art of Germany with the art of antiquity, of the Orient and of
+England, produced effective results; no less did Lessing, although the
+latter seeks to learn from the faults of his neighbors rather than
+from their excellencies. Goethe's criticism is dominated to such a
+degree by his absorption in the antique, and also in French and
+English general literature, that he has no understanding of national
+peculiarities when they do not conform to typical literary phenomena,
+as Uhland's lyric and Kleist's drama--two literary phenomena which we,
+nowadays, consider eminently national. The Romantic school was the
+first to try to place the conception of national literature as a whole
+on an autochthonous basis, and the scientific speculation to which
+Romanticism gave rise, has, since the Brothers Grimm, also resulted in
+serviceable rules gained from the increasingly thorough knowledge of
+language, of national development, and of social conditions. This new
+point of view reaches its climax in the attempts of Karl Müllenhoff
+and Wilhelm Scherer to trace the native literary development directly
+back to the nature and destiny of the German nation. But even as that
+proved scientifically unsuccessful, so likewise it was not feasible
+practically to establish a poetry confined to native materials, forms,
+and opinions. In vain did Tieck try to play off the youthful Goethe,
+as the only national one, against the Goethe of the Weimar period,
+which attempt many after him have repeated; or again, it was proposed
+to strike Heine out of the history of our literature as un-German--the
+last two literary events of European significance in Germany,
+according to Nietzsche. On the contrary, a comparison of German
+literature with those of foreign nations was not only necessary but
+also fruitful, as a certain exhaustion had set in, which lent an
+aftermath character to the leaders of the German "intellectual poetry"
+(_Bildungs-Poesie_) of that time. It was necessary once again to
+compare our technique, our relationship between the poet and the
+people, our participation in all the various literary _genres_ and
+problems, with the corresponding phenomena in the countries of Zola,
+Björnson, Tolstoy, Ibsen, and Strindberg.
+
+This, now, leads up to another question, to that concerning _poetic
+ideals_, and not only poetry in itself; the poet also becomes the
+object of interest and expectation. Every age embodies a different
+ideal, by which in all instances the already existing type and the
+loftier hopes of youth are welded into one--if we maybe allowed so to
+express it. Antiquity asked that the poet should fill the heart with
+gladness; the Middle Ages desired edification with a spiritual or a
+worldly coloring; the first centuries of modern times applied to him
+for instruction. This last ideal was still in vogue at the beginning
+of modern German literature. But gradually the conception of
+"instruction" altered. The poet of the Germanic nations had now to be
+one who could interpret the heart. He should no longer be the medium
+for conveying those matters which the didactic novel and the edifying
+lyric had treated--things valuable where knowledge of the world and
+human nature, intercourse and felicity are concerned--but he must
+become a seer again, an announcer of mysterious wisdom. "Whatever,
+unknown or unminded by others, wanders by night through the labyrinth
+of the heart"--that he must transmit to the hearer; he must allow the
+listener to share with him the gift of "being able to give expression
+to his suffering." Thus the chief task of the modern poet became "the
+reproduction of the objective world through the subjective,"
+consequently "experience." Real events, objects, manifestations must
+pass through a human soul in order to gain poetic significance, and
+upon the significance of the receiving soul, not upon the "poetic" or
+"unpoetic" nature of the subject itself, depends the poetic
+significance.
+
+With this new conception, however, new dangers are connected. Near at
+hand lies the fear of a too open declaration of the most intimate
+feelings. In many old-style poets of modern times, in Hölderlin, in
+Kleist, Grillparzer, and Annette von Droste-Hülshoff this fear assumes
+the character of ethical aversion to baring their feelings in public.
+But near, too, lies the hunt after interesting experiences--the need
+to "experience something" at any price--which marred the life of a
+romantic poet of Brentano's talents, and also affected the conduct of
+the realist Grabbe. A new responsibility was placed upon the shoulders
+of the German poet, which rested heavily on men like Otto Ludwig, and
+on account of which writers like Hebbel or Richard Wagner thought
+themselves justified in claiming the royal privileges of the favorites
+of the gods.
+
+An entirely new method of poetic study began, which perhaps originated
+with Heinrich von Kleist: a passionate endeavor to place the whole of
+life at the service of observation or to spend it in the study of
+technique. The consequence was not seldom a nervous derangement of the
+whole apparatus of the soul, just at the moment when it should have
+been ready for its greatest performances, as in the case of Nikolaus
+Lenau; however, it also frequently resulted in an endlessly increased
+receptivity for every experience, as in the case of Bettina von Arnim,
+Heine, or Annette von Droste, and the most recent writers.
+
+The infinitely difficult task of the modern poet is made still harder
+by the fact that, in spite of all his efforts, he, happily, seldom
+succeeds in transforming himself into, one would like to say, an
+artistically working apparatus, such as Ibsen very nearly became; not,
+however, without deploring the fact at the close of his life. The
+German poet in particular has too strong a lyrical inheritance not to
+reëcho the impressions _directly_ received by his heart. The struggle
+between the demands of a purely artistic presentation of reality,
+i. e., one governed exclusively by esthetic rules, and its sympathetic
+rendering, constitutes the poetic tragedy of most of our "naturalistic
+writers," and especially of the most important one among them, Gerhart
+Hauptmann. But from this general ideal of the poet, who only through
+his own experience will give to reality a true existence and the
+possibility of permanence, there follows a straining after technical
+requirements such as was formerly almost unknown. This results in an
+effort in Germany all the more strenuous in proportion to the former
+slackness regarding questions of artistic form. The peculiarities of
+the different literary _genres_ are heeded with a severity such as has
+been practised before only in antiquity or perhaps by the French.
+Poets like Detlev von Liliencron, who formerly had appeared as
+advocates of poetical frivolity, now chafed over banal aids for
+rhyming, as once Alfred de Musset had done. Friedrich Spielhagen, the
+brothers Heinrich and Thomas Mann, and Jacob Wassermann are seen to
+busy themselves with the technical questions pertaining to the
+prose-epic, no longer in a merely esthetical and easy-going fashion,
+but as though they were working out questions vital to existence; and
+truly it is bitter earnest with them where their art is concerned.
+Often, as in painting, technique becomes the principal object, and the
+young naturalism of Arno Holz and Johannes Schlaf has in all
+seriousness raised technique to a dogma, without, however, in the long
+run being able to get the upper hand of the German need of
+establishing intimate relations with the subject of the art.
+
+We must, however, at this point again remind ourselves that the
+question is not one of abstract "poets" but one of a large number of
+living _men_ who, happily, differ widely from one another. Above all,
+when considering them we must think of the typical development of the
+generations. Those for whom patriotic interests, at least in a direct
+sense, seemed to have little meaning, were always followed by
+generations patriotically inspired. The Germany of to-day hides, under
+the self-deluding appearance of a confinement to purely esthetic
+problems, a predominating and lively joy in the growth of the
+Fatherland, and naturally also in its mental broadening. To have given
+the strongest expression to this joy constitutes the historical
+significance of Gustav Frenssen, just as solicitude for its future
+inspired the muse of Wilhelm von Polenz.
+
+The preference shown to individual literary _genres_ changes in an
+almost regular order of sequence--the Swiss Bovet has even tried
+recently to lay down a regular law of alternation. Especially is the
+theatre from time to time abused for being a destructive negation of
+art, in just as lively a fashion as it is declared at other times to
+be the sole realization of the artistic ideal. As to prevailing
+temperaments, a preferably pathetic tone--as, for example, in the
+epoch of Freytag, Geibel, Treitschke--alternates with a sceptically
+satiric one--as in Fontane who (like so many writers, in Germany
+especially) did not belong to his own generation nor even to the
+immediately succeeding one, but to the next after that! With these are
+associated preferences for verse or prose; for idealism or realism and
+naturalism; a falling away from philosophy or an inclination to
+introduce it into poetry; and numerous other disguises for those
+antagonistic principles, to which Kuno Francke in a general survey of
+our literature has sought to trace back its different phases.
+
+We have now said about all that, in our opinion, seems necessary for a
+general introduction to modern German literature. For the rest, it is
+of course quite obvious that it is German--and that it is a
+literature. That it is German, is precisely why it is not exclusively
+German: for in every epoch has it not been proclaimed in accents of
+praise or of blame, until we are almost tired of hearing it, that the
+inclination to take up and appropriate foreign possessions is peculiar
+to the German nation--and to the Germanic spirit in general? Thus we
+possess special presentations of German literature considered from the
+standpoint of its antique elements, and also from that of its
+Christian elements, and we could in the same way present theses which
+would show its development from the standpoint of the Romance or of
+the English influence. And yet latterly an exactly contrary attempt
+has been made--in a spirited, if somewhat arbitrary book by Nadler,
+which consists in trying to build up the history of German literature
+entirely upon the peculiarities of the different tribes and provinces.
+For the essence of the German, nay, even of the Swabian, or Bavarian,
+or North German, or Austrian individuality, is in the long run
+nourished rather than extinguished by all foreign influences. In spite
+of this, it is of course important in the consideration of the
+eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, to observe how the French pattern
+that is at first followed almost with the unquestioned obedience
+accorded to a fixed ethical model, is confronted by the English, which
+brings about the celebrated--and probably overrated--struggle between
+Gottsched and the Swiss School. We should also notice precisely how
+the tendency of British literature toward originality--in which the
+insular peculiarities were strongly emphasized--served to increase the
+self-reliance of German literature; how a new movement in the style of
+the antique was cultivated by the classical writers; and how the
+Romantic School favored medieval-Christian tendencies--much to
+Goethe's annoyance. It is of importance likewise to note the way in
+which Young Germany learned how to gain political-literary effects
+from the new French models; and finally, how the Northern realism of
+presentation, amalgamated with Tolstoy's, Björnson's, Strindberg's and
+also Ibsen's ethical subjectivity, educated the naturalism of the
+Germans. It is precisely those poets that are especially characterized
+by German peculiarities who have also trained themselves in the use of
+foreign subjects and forms: thus did Uhland, Mörike, Hebbel, and all
+the Romanticists. We have already had occasion many times to call
+attention in detail to the educational effect of foreign countries.
+
+German literature is, in short, one that possesses the typical moments
+of development which mark all literatures, and which Wilhelm Scherer
+was the first to call to our notice: that is to say, it is a
+complicated organism in which the most varied tendencies cross one
+another, the most dissimilar generations of writers meet together, and
+the most remarkable events occur in the most unforeseen manner.
+
+If we should now try to get a closer view of the last and by far the
+most important factor of literature, namely, the individual writers
+themselves, this difficulty in obtaining a general view of the whole,
+this working of the different parts against one another, this pulling
+away from one another, presents itself more clearly to us here than
+anywhere else. The attempt to classify the development of our
+literature into distinct groups according to the personalities which
+compose them has been frequently made, since I, in spite of all the
+difficulties and dangers of such a hazardous enterprise, first
+undertook, in my _German Literature of the Nineteenth Century_, to
+give an historical and complete presentation of a literature which had
+as yet scarcely become historic. I can here merely refer in passing to
+my own efforts and to those of Bartels, Biese, Riemann, and
+Soergel--to name only these; for in compliance with the purpose of
+this introduction we must confine ourselves to giving a general
+comprehensive outline--although it would be easy to improve upon it if
+one went more into detail.
+
+It seems to me under these conditions that the groundlines of the
+development of our literature from 1700-1900 would be best impressed
+upon us by comparing the order of its evolution with that of the most
+"normal" poetic genius who ever lived--namely, with that of Goethe;
+and thereby we should prove its development to be an essentially
+normal one.
+
+Like all "natural geniuses" Goethe begins as an imitator, dependent
+upon others; for the poet also must first learn to speak and to walk.
+The earliest literary effort of his which we possess is the poem _On
+Christ's Descent into Hell_, which naturally seemed strange enough to
+Goethe when this long forgotten first printed specimen of his literary
+productiveness was laid before him again after he had grown old. In
+this poem traditional phrases are repeated without the addition of
+anything new and original; conventional feelings are expressed, usual
+methods are employed; all this, however, not without a certain
+moderation of expression constituting a first sign of the otherwise
+still completely concealed poetic individuality.
+
+Such is the character that the world of virtuosos also bears about the
+year 1700. The poems of Rudolf von Canitz and Johann von Besser are,
+though in entirely different spheres, just the same kind of first
+attempts of an imperfect art anxiously following foreign models as
+Goethe's first Christian poem--though truly with the tremendous
+difference that they represented the utmost that Frenchified courtly
+art could ever attain to; while Goethe's poem, on the contrary, was
+the immature sprig cut away before its time from the stem of a tree
+soon to stand in the full glory of its bloom.
+
+When now in the Leipzig period the young student discovers the poet
+within him, he first does so in the customary way: he recognizes the
+ability on his part to handle the language of the contemporary poets,
+and also perhaps to imbue it with his own personal feelings. His poems
+inserted in letters, which make a show of the elegant pretence of
+improvisation, but in reality already display a great dexterity in
+rhyming and in the use of imagery, may be compared to Hagedorn's
+poetry; but at the same time Goethe is trying to attain the serious
+tone of the "Pindarian" odes, just as Haller's stilted scholarly
+poetry conquered a place beside Hagedorn's Epicurean philosophy of
+life. The _Book of Annette_ (1767) as a whole, however, presents the
+first attempt on the part of Goethe to reach a certain completeness in
+his treatment of the poetic theme. In all his subsequent collections
+of poems the same attempt is made, it is true with increasingly rigid
+interpretation of the idea of "completeness," and in so far one is
+reminded in this connection of the theoretic intentions and
+performances of Gottsched.
+
+The "New Songs" (_Neue Lieder_) of 1770 give a lop-sided exhibition of
+the style which Leipzig and the times acts. Two great acts follow: in
+1773 comes _Götz_; in 1774, _Werther_. And with _Götz_ the great
+"subjects of humanity" seize possession of Goethe's poetry, as they
+had taken possession of the poetry of Germany with Lessing--as shown
+by his whole work up to _Nathan_: for Lessing, the strongest adversary
+of mere "estheticism," really accomplished what those Anacreontic
+poets had merely wished to do--or seemed to wish--and brought
+literature into close touch with life. _The Sorrows of Werther_ lays
+hold of the subjective problems of the age just as the drama of
+liberty lays hold of the objective; in them a typical character of the
+times is analyzed not without zealously making use of models--both
+innovations of Wieland! But now indeed comes the most important of
+all, that which in its greatness represents something completely new,
+although in detail Goethe had here all his teachers to teach
+him--Lessing who had written _Faust_-scenes, and Wieland who was so
+fond of placing the two souls of man side by side, and Herder who had
+an absolutely Faust-like nature; so that people have tried, with the
+exaggeration of the theorist, to hold up before us the whole _Faust_
+as a kind of dramatized portrayal of Herder! And with _Faust_ Goethe
+in German literature has reached his own time--"For his century bears
+his name!"
+
+But in the period which followed the predominating position of the
+classical writers we once more find the same parallelism of
+development. Again with Goethe's dilettante beginnings we compare a
+school of weak imitators, which unhappily was protected by Goethe
+himself (and also by Schiller in his literary organs); again with the
+Strassburg period and its Storm and Stress we compare Romanticism,
+which is characterized by its German nationalism and its antique
+tendencies, which is sentimental and philosophical, critical and
+programmatical like the time of _Götz_, which latter surely must have
+had a strong effect on men like Tieck and Arnim. And out of the
+sentiment for his country, which, in Goethe's whole literary career,
+is peculiar only to the poetry of the Strassburg period, tendencies
+develop like those which manifest themselves in the literature of the
+Wars of Liberation, of the Swabian School, in the older poetry of
+political conflict--in short, like all those tendencies which we
+connect with Ludwig Uhland's name.
+
+Goethe's literary satires and poems for special occasions are a
+prelude to the purely literary existence and the belligerent spirit of
+men like Platen and Immermann, who both, as it were by accident, found
+their way into the open of national poesy. The self-absorption in
+_Werther_, the delving after new poetical experiences and mediums of
+expression; the method of expression hovering between form and
+illusory improvisation--all this we find again in the strongest
+individualists, in Heine, in Annette von Droste, in Lenau. The Weimar
+period, however, when the poet by means of a great and severe
+self-discipline trains himself to the point of rigidity in order to
+become the instrument of his art--that period is, with _Tasso_, paving
+the way for the school of Grillparzer, while that infinite deepening
+of the poetic calling is a preparation for Otto Ludwig, Richard
+Wagner, and Friedrich Hebbel. The contemporary novel in the style of
+_Wilhelm Meister_ is revived by the Young Germans, above all by
+Gutzkow, in the same way that tendencies found in _Nathan_ and in
+_Götz_ are brought out again in Gutzkow's and in Heinrich Laube's
+dramas, so rich in allusions. The national spirit of which _Egmont_ is
+full also fills the novels of Willibald Alexis and Berthold Auerbach.
+Finally those works, besides _Tasso_, which we are wont to consider
+the crowning achievements of the Weimar period, above all,
+_Iphigenia_, have permanently served as models of the new, and in
+their way classical, "antiques"--for the Munich School, for the
+Geibels and the Heyses. But we must also remember Mörike and Stifter,
+and their absorption in the fullness of the inner life, which none of
+them could attain to without somewhat stunting the growth of life's
+realities--Hebbel perceived this clearly enough not only in Stifter
+but in Goethe himself. Above all, however, this whole epoch of the
+"intellectual poets" may, in a certain sense, be called the _Italian
+Journey_ of German literature. Like Goethe in the years 1787-1788, the
+German muse in this period only feels entirely at home in Italy, or at
+least in the South; in her own country she feels misnamed.
+
+Now let us consider Goethe after he had settled down in Weimar for the
+second time. Scientific work seems for a while to have entirely
+replaced poetic activity, as for a moment the scientific prose of
+Ranke and Helmholtz came near to being of more consequence for the
+German language than most of what was produced at the same time by
+so-called poetry. Then the _Campaign in Champagne_ (1792), and the new
+employment of his time with political problems, constitutes for Goethe
+a temporary phase that may be compared with that recapturing of
+history by political-historical writers like Freytag and Treitschke,
+in the same way that _Hermann and Dorothea_ (1796), in which an old
+historical anecdote of the time of the expulsion of the Protestants
+from Salzburg is transplanted to the time of the French Revolution,
+may be compared with the historical "Novellen" of Riehl, Scheffel, and
+C.F. Meyer. Goethe's ballads (1797-1798) maintain the tradition that
+was to be given new life by Fontane, Strachwitz, and C.F. Meyer.
+Goethe's later novels with their didactic tendencies, and the
+inclination to interpolate "Novellen" and diaries, lead up to
+Gottfried Keller, Wilhelm Raabe and again to Fontane. The table-songs
+and other convivial poetry of Goethe's old age are taken up again by
+Scheffel; Goethe's "Novellen" themselves were continued by all those
+eminent writers whom we have already named. The _Divan_, with its bent
+toward immutable relations, prepares the way for the new lyric, until
+finally, with the second part of _Faust_, mythical world-poetry and
+symbolism complete the circle, just as the cycle of German literature
+finishes with Nietzsche, Stefan George, Spitteler and Hofmannsthal. At
+the same time new forces are starting to form the new cycle, or, to
+speak like Goethe, the newest spiral: Hauptmann, Frenssen, Ricarda
+Huch, Enrica von Handel, to name only these. And how many others have
+we not previously left unnamed!
+
+But all this has not been merely to exercise our ingenuity. By drawing
+this parallel, which is naturally only to be taken approximately, we
+have intended to make clear the comforting probability that, in spite
+of all the exaggerating, narrowing down, and forcing to which it has
+been obliged to submit, our modern and most recent German literature
+is essentially a healthy literature. That, in spite of all deviation
+caused by influential theorists--of the Storm and Stress, of the
+Romantic School, of the period of Goethe's old age, of the epigonean
+or naturalistic criticism, or by the dazzling phenomena of foreign
+countries,--nevertheless in the essentials it obeys its own inner
+laws. That in spite of all which in the present stage of our
+literature may create a painful or confusing impression, _we have no
+cause to doubt that a new and powerful upward development will take
+place, and no cause either to underrate the literature of our own
+day_! It is richer in great, and what is perhaps more important, in
+serious talents than any other contemporary literature. No other can
+show such wealth of material, no other such abundance of interesting
+and, in part, entirely new productions. We do not say this in order to
+disparage others who in some ways were, only a short time ago, so far
+superior to us--as were the French in surety of form, the
+Scandinavians in greatness of talents, the Russians in originality,
+the English in cultivation of the general public; but we are inspired
+to utter it by the hopeful joy which every one must feel who, in the
+contemplation of our modern lyric poetry, our novels, dramas, epic and
+didactic poetry, does not allow himself to be blinded by prejudice or
+offended vanity. A great literature such as we possessed about 1800 we
+of a certainty do not have to-day. A more hopeful chaos or one more
+rich in fertile seeds we have not possessed since the days of
+Romanticism. It is surely worth while to study this literature, and in
+all its twists and turns to admire the heliotropism of the German
+ideal and the importance which our German literature has won as a
+mediator, an experimenter, and a model for that world-literature, the
+outline of which the prophetic eye of the greatest German poet was the
+first to discern, and his hand, equally expert in scientific and
+poetic creation, the first to describe.
+
+
+
+THE LIFE OF GOETHE
+
+BY CALVIN THOMAS, LL.D.
+
+Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Columbia University
+
+Goethe, the illustrious poet-sage whom Matthew Arnold called the
+"clearest, largest, and most helpful thinker of modern times," was
+born August 28, 1749, at Frankfurt on the Main.[2] He was christened
+Johann Wolfgang. In his early years his familiar name was Wolfgang, or
+simply Wolf, never Johann. His family was of the middle class, the
+aristocratic _von_ which sometimes appears in his name, in accordance
+with German custom, having come to him with a patent of nobility which
+he received in the year 1782.
+
+Johann Caspar Goethe, the poet's father, was the son of a prosperous
+tailor, who was also a tailor's son. Having abundant means and being
+of an ambitious turn, Johann Caspar prepared himself for the
+profession of law, spent some time in Italy, and then settled in
+Frankfurt in the hope of rising to distinction in the public service.
+Disappointed in this hope, he procured the imperial title of
+Councilor, which gave him a dignified social status but nothing in
+particular to do. He thus became virtually a gentleman of leisure,
+since his law practise was quite insignificant. In 1748 he married
+Katharina Elisabeth Textor, whose father, Johann Wolfgang Textor, was
+the town's chief magistrate and most eminent citizen. She was eighteen
+years old at the time of her marriage--twenty years younger than her
+husband--and well fitted to become a poet's mother. The gift on which
+she especially prided herself was her story-telling. Wolfgang was the
+first child of these parents.
+
+The paternal strain in Goethe's blood made for level-headedness,
+precise and methodical ways, a serious view of life, and a desire to
+make the most of it. By his mother he was a poet who liked nothing
+else so well as to invent dream-worlds and commune with the spirits of
+his imagination. He also ascribes to his mother his _Frohnatur_, his
+joyous nature. And certain it is that his temperament was on the whole
+sunny. As he grew to manhood men and women alike were charmed by him.
+He became a virtuoso in love and had a genius for friendship. But he
+was not always cheerful. In his youth, particularly, he was often
+moody and given to brooding over indefinable woes. He suffered acutely
+at times from what is now called the melancholia of adolescence. This
+was a phase of that emotional sensitiveness and nervous instability
+which are nearly always a part of the poet's dower.
+
+Wolfgang grew up in a wholesome atmosphere of comfort and refinement.
+He never knew the tonic bitterness of poverty. On the other hand, he
+was never spoiled by his advantages; to his dying day he disliked
+luxury. At home under private tutors the boy studied Latin, French,
+and English, and picked up a little Italian by overhearing his
+sister's lessons. In 1758 Frankfurt was occupied by a French army, and
+a French playhouse was set going for the diversion of the officers. In
+the interest of his French Wolfgang was allowed to go to the theatre,
+and he made such rapid progress that he was soon studying the dramatic
+unities as expounded by Corneille and actually trying to write a
+French play. Withal he was left much to himself, so that he had time
+to explore Frankfurt to his heart's content.
+
+[Illustration: JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE _From the painting by C.
+ Jäger_]
+
+He was much in contact with people of the humbler sort and learned to
+like their racy dialect. He penetrated into the ghetto and learned the
+jargon of the Jews. He even attacked biblical Hebrew, being led
+thereto by his great love of the Old Testament.
+
+It was his boyish ambition to become a great poet. His favorite
+amusement was a puppet-show, for which he invented elaborate plays.
+From his tenth year on he wrote a great deal of verse, early acquiring
+technical facility and local renown and coming to regard himself as a
+"thunderer." He attempted a polyglot novel, also a biblical tale on
+the subject of Joseph, which he destroyed on observing that the hero
+did nothing but pray and weep. When he was ready for the university he
+wished to go to Göttingen to study the old humanities, but his father
+was bent on making a lawyer of him. So it came about that some ten
+years of his early life were devoted, first as a student and then as a
+practitioner, to a reluctant and half-hearted grapple with the
+intricacies of Holy Roman law.
+
+At the age of sixteen Goethe entered the University of Leipzig, where
+he remained about three years. The law lectures bored him and he soon
+ceased to attend them. The other studies that he took up, especially
+logic and philosophy, seemed to him arid and unprofitable--mere
+conventional verbiage without any bed-rock of real knowledge. So he
+presently fell into that mood of disgust with academic learning which
+was afterwards to form the keynote of _Faust_. Outside the university
+he found congenial work in Oeser's drawing-school. Oeser was an artist
+of no great power with the brush, but a genial man, a friend of
+Winckelmann, and an enthusiast for Greek art. Goethe learned to admire
+and love him, and from this time on, for some twenty years, his
+constant need of artistic expression found hardly less satisfaction in
+drawing from nature than in poetry.
+
+His poetic ambition received little encouragement in university
+circles. Those to whom he read his ambitious verses made light of
+them. The venerated Gellert, himself a poet of repute, advised the lad
+to cultivate a good prose style and look to his handwriting. No wonder
+that he despaired of his talent, concluded that he could never be a
+poet, and burnt his effusions. A maddening love-affair with his
+landlady's daughter, Anna Katharina Schönkopf, revived the dying lyric
+flame, and he began to write verses in the gallant erotic vein then
+and there fashionable--verses that tell of love-lorn shepherds and
+shepherdesses, give sage advice to girls about keeping their
+innocence, and moralize on the ways of this wicked world. They show no
+signs of lyric genius. His short-lived passion for Annette, as he
+called her, whom he tormented with his jealousy until she lost
+patience and broke off the intimacy, was also responsible for his
+first play, _Die Laune des Verliebten_, or _The Lover's Wayward
+Humor_. It is a pretty one-act pastoral in alexandrine verse, the
+theme being the punishment of an over-jealous lover. What is mainly
+significant in these Leipzig poetizings is the fact that they grew out
+of genuine experience. Goethe had resolved to drop his ambitious
+projects, such as _Belshazzar_, and coin his own real thoughts and
+feelings into verse. Thus early he was led into the way of poetic
+"confession."
+
+In the summer of 1768 he was suddenly prostrated by a grave
+illness--an internal hemorrhage which was at first thought to portend
+consumption. Pale and languid he returned to his father's house, and
+for several months it was uncertain whether he was to live or die.
+During this period of seclusion he became deeply interested in magic,
+alchemy, astrology, cabalism, and all that sort of thing. He even set
+up a kind of alchemist's laboratory to search experimentally for the
+panacea. Out of these abstruse studies grew Faust's wonderful dream of
+an ecstatic spirit-life to be attained by natural magic. Of course the
+menace of impending death drew his thoughts in the direction of
+religion. Among the intimate friends of the family was the devout
+Susanna von Klettenberg, one of the leading spirits in a local
+conventicle of the Moravian Brethren. This lady--afterwards
+immortalized as the "beautiful soul" of _Wilhelm Meister_--tried to
+have the sick youth make his peace with God in her way, that is, by
+accepting Christ as an ever-present personal saviour. While he never
+would admit a conviction of sin he envied the calm of the saintly
+maiden and was so far converted that he attended the meetings of the
+Brethren, took part in their communion service, and for a while spoke
+the language of a devout pietist.
+
+This religious experience of his youth bit deep into Goethe's
+character. He soon drifted away from the pietists and their ways, he
+came to have a poor opinion of priests and priestcraft, and in time
+men called him a heathen. Nevertheless his nature had been so deeply
+stirred in his youth by religion's mystic appeal that he never
+afterwards lost his reverence for genuine religious feeling. To the
+end of his days the aspiration of the human soul for communion with
+God found in him a delicate and sympathetic interpreter.
+
+During his convalescence Goethe retouched a score of his Leipzig songs
+and published them anonymously, with music by his friend Breitkopf,
+under the title of _New Songs_. He regarded them at the time as
+trifles that had come into being without art or effort. "Young, in
+love, and full of feeling," he had sung them so, while "playing the
+old game of youth." To-day they seem to convey little forewarning of
+the matchless lyric gift that was soon to awaken, being a shade too
+intellectual and sententious. One hears more of the critic's comment
+than of the poet's cry. It was at this time also that he rewrote an
+earlier Leipzig play, expanding it from one act to three and giving it
+the title _Die Mitschuldigen_, or _The Fellow-culprits_. It is a sort
+of rogue's comedy in middle-class life, written in the alexandrine
+verse, which was soon to be discarded along with other French
+fashions. We have a quartet consisting of an inquisitive inn-keeper,
+his mismated sentimental daughter, her worthless husband, and her
+former lover. They tangle themselves up in a series of low intrigues
+and are finally unmasked as one and all poor miserable sinners.
+Technically it is a good play--lively, diverting, well put together.
+But one can not call it very edifying.
+
+In the spring of 1770 Goethe entered the University of Strassburg,
+which was at that time in French territory. It was a part of his
+general purpose to better his French, but the actual effect of his
+sojourn in Alsatia was to put him out of humor with all French
+standards, especially with the classic French drama, and to excite in
+him a fervid enthusiasm for the things of the fatherland. This was due
+partly to the influence of Herder, with whom he now came into close
+personal relations. From Herder, who was six years his senior and
+already known by his _Fragments_ and _Critical Forests_ as a trenchant
+and original critic, he heard the gospel of a literary revolution.
+Rules and conventions were to be thrown overboard; the new watchwords
+were nature, power, originality, genius, fulness of expression. He
+conceived a boundless admiration for Homer, Ossian, and Shakespeare,
+in each of whom he saw the mirror of an epoch and a national life. He
+became an enthusiastic collector of Alsatian folksongs and was
+fascinated by the Strassburg minster--at a time when "Gothic" was
+generally regarded as a synonym of barbarous. Withal his gift for
+song-making came to a new stage of perfection under the inspiration of
+his love for the village maid Friederike Brion. From this time forth
+he was the prince of German lyrists.
+
+In the summer of 1771 he returned to Frankfurt once more, this time
+with the title of licentiate in law, and began to practise in a
+perfunctory way, with his heart in his literary projects. By the end
+of the year he had written out the first draft of a play which he
+afterwards revised and published anonymously (in 1773) under the title
+of _Götz von Berlichingen_. By its exuberant fulness of life, its
+bluff German heartiness, and the freshness and variety of its scenes,
+it took the public by storm, notwithstanding its disregard of the
+approved rules of play-writing.
+
+[Illustration: JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE _From the Painting by J.
+ Stieler_]
+
+The next year he published _The Sufferings of Young Werther_, a tragic
+tale of a weak-willed sentimental youth of hyperesthetic tendencies,
+who commits suicide because of disappointment in love. The story was
+the greatest literary triumph that Germany had ever known, and in
+point of sheer artistic power it remains to this day the best of
+novels in the tragic-sentimental vein. These two works carried the
+name of Goethe far and wide and made him the accepted leader of the
+literary revolution which long afterwards came to be known, from the
+title of a play by Klinger, as the Storm and Stress.
+
+The years 1773-1775 were for Goethe a time of high emotional tension,
+from which he sought relief in rapid, desultory, and multifarious
+writing. Exquisite songs, musical comedies of a sentimental tinge,
+humorous and satiric skits in dramatic form, prose tragedy of
+passionate error, and poetic tragedy of titanic revolt--all these and
+more welled up from a sub-conscious spring of feeling, taking little
+counsel of the sober intellect. Several minor productions were left
+unfinished and were afterwards published in fragmentary form. Such is
+the case with _Prometheus_, a splendid fragment, in which we get a
+glimpse of the Titan battling, as the friend of man, against the
+ever-living gods. Of the works completed and published at this time,
+aside from _Götz_ and _Werther_, the most notable were _Clavigo_ and
+_Stella_, prose tragedies in which a fickle lover meets with condign
+punishment. Another prose tragedy, _Egmont_, with its hero conceived
+as a "demonic" nature borne on to his doom by his own buoyancy of
+spirit, was nearly finished. Most important of all, a considerable
+portion of _Faust_, which was to be its author's great life-work, was
+"stormed out" during these early years at Frankfurt.
+
+The legendary Faust is presented as a bad man who sells his soul to
+the devil for twenty-four years of power and pleasure, gets what he
+bargained for, and in the end goes to perdition. Young Goethe
+conceived his hero differently: not as a bad man on the way to hell,
+and not--at first--as a good man on the way to heaven. He thought of
+him rather as a towering personality passionately athirst for
+transcendental knowledge and universal experience; as a man whose
+nature contained the very largest possibilities both for good and for
+evil. It is probable that, when he began to write, Goethe did not
+intend to anticipate the judgment of God upon Faust's career. The
+essence of his dramatic plan was to carry his hero through a lifetime
+of varied experience, letting him sin and suffer grandly, and at last
+to give him something to do which would seem worth having lived for.
+After the going down of the curtain, in all probability, he was to be
+left in the hands of the Eternal Pardoner. Later in life, as we shall
+see, Goethe decided not only to save his hero, but to make his
+salvation a part of the dramatic action.
+
+The close of the year 1775 brought a momentous change in Goethe's life
+and prospects. On the invitation of the young duke Karl August, who
+had met him and taken a liking to him, he went to visit the Weimar
+court, not expecting to stay more than a few weeks. But the duke was
+so pleased with his gifted and now famous guest that he presently
+decided to keep him in Weimar, if possible, by making him a member of
+the Council of State. Goethe was the more willing to remain, since he
+detested his law practise, and his income from authorship was
+pitifully small. Moreover, he saw in the boyish, impulsive,
+sport-loving prince a sterling nature that might be led in the ways of
+wise rulership. For the nonce this was mission enough. He took his
+seat in the Council in June, 1776, with the title of Councilor of
+Legation. At first there was not very much for him to do except to
+familiarize himself with the physical and economic conditions of the
+little duchy. This he did with a will. He set about studying
+mineralogy, geology, botany, and was soon observing the homologies of
+the vertebrate skeleton. Withal he was very attentive to
+routine business.
+
+[Illustration: 1. GOETHE'S GARDEN HOUSE IN WEIMAR]
+
+[Illustration: 2. GOETHE'S HOUSE IN WEIMAR]
+
+One after another important departments of administration were turned
+over to him, until he became, in 1782, the President of the Chambers
+and hence the leading statesman of the duchy.
+
+All this produced a sobering and clarifying effect. The inner storm
+and stress gradually subsided, and the new Goethe--statesman,
+scientific investigator, man of the world, courtier, friend of
+princes--came to see that after all feeling was not everything, and
+that its untrammeled expression was not the whole of art. Form and
+decorum counted for more than he had supposed, and revolution was not
+the word of wisdom. Self-control was the only basis of character, and
+limitation lay at the foundation of all art. To work to make things
+better, even in a humble sphere, was better than to fret over the
+badness of the world. Nature's method was that of bit-by-bit progress,
+and to puzzle out her ways was a noble and fascinating employment. In
+this general way of thinking he was confirmed by the study of
+Spinoza's _Ethics_, a book which, as he said long afterwards, quieted
+his passions and gave him a large and free outlook over the world. In
+this process of quieting the passions some influence must be ascribed
+to Charlotte von Stein, a woman in whom, for some twelve years of his
+life, he found his muse and his madonna. His letters often address her
+in terms of idolatrous endearment. She was a wife and a mother, but
+Weimar society regarded her relation to Goethe as a platonic
+attachment not to be condemned.
+
+The artistic expression of the new life in Weimar is found in various
+short poems, notably _Wanderer's Nightsong_, _Ilmenau_, _The Divine_,
+and _The Mysteries_; also in a number of plays which were written for
+the amateur stage of the court circle. The Weimarians were very fond
+of play-acting, and Goethe became their purveyor of dramatic supplies.
+It was to meet this demand that he wrote _Brother and Sister (Die
+Geschwister), The Triumph of Sentimentalism, The Fisher-maid, The
+Birds_, and other pieces. Much more important than any of these
+bagatelles, which were often hastily composed for a birthday
+celebration or some other festive occasion, are the two fine poetic
+dramas, _Iphigenie_ and _Tasso_. The former was first written rather
+rapidly in stately rhythmic prose and played by the amateurs, with
+Goethe himself in the rôle of Orestes, in the spring of 1779. Eight
+years later, the author being then in Italy, it was recast with great
+care in mellifluous blank verse. _Iphigenie_ is essentially a drama of
+the soul, there being little in it of what is commonly called action.
+A youth who is the prey of morbid illusions, so that his life has
+become a burden, is cured by finding a noble-minded sister, whose
+whole being radiates peace and self-possession. The entire power of
+Goethe's chastened art is here lavished on the figure of his heroine
+who, by her goodness, her candor, her sweet reasonableness, not only
+heals her soul-sick brother, but so works on the barbarian king Thoas,
+who would fain have her for his wife, that he wins a notable victory
+over himself.
+
+By the end of his first decade in Weimar Goethe began to feel that he
+needed and had earned a vacation. His conduct of the public business
+had been highly successful, but he had starved his esthetic nature;
+for after all Weimar was only a good-sized village that could offer
+little to the lover of art. Overwork had so told upon him that he was
+unable to hold himself long to any literary project. He had begun half
+a dozen important works, but had completed none of them, and the
+public was beginning to suspect that the author of _Götz_ and
+_Werther_ was lost to literature. The effect of the whole
+situation--that inner conflict between the poetic dreamer and the man
+of affairs which is the theme of _Tasso_--was to produce a feeling of
+depression, as of a bird caught in a net. So acute did the trouble
+become that he afterwards spoke of it as a terrible disease. In the
+summer of 1786 he contracted with the Leipzig publisher Göschen for a
+new edition of his works in eight volumes; and to gain time for this
+enterprise he resolved to take a trip to the land upon which he had
+already twice looked down with longing--once in 1775 and again in
+1779--from the summit of the Gotthard.
+
+[Illustration: GOETHE IN THE CAMPAGNA]
+
+On the 3d of September, at three o'clock in the morning, he stole away
+from Karlsbad, where he had been taking the waters, and hurried
+southward, alone and incognito, over the Alps.
+
+In Italy, where he remained nearly two years, Goethe's mind and art
+underwent another notable change. He himself called it a spiritual
+rebirth. Freed from all oppressive engagements, he gave himself to the
+study of ancient sculpture and architecture, reveled in the splendors
+of Renaissance painting, and pursued his botanical studies in the
+enticing plant-world of the Italian gardens. Venice, Naples, Vesuvius,
+Sicily, the sea, fascinated him in their several ways and gave him the
+sense of being richer for the rest of his life. Sharing in the
+care-free existence of the German artist-colony in Rome made him very
+happy. It not only disciplined his judgment in matters of art and
+opened a vast new world of ideas and impressions, but it restored the
+lost balance between the intellectual and duty-bound man on the one
+hand and the esthetic and sensual man on the other. He resolved never
+again to put on the harness of an administrative drudge, but to claim
+the freedom of a poet, an artist, a man of science. To this desire the
+Duke of Weimar generously assented.
+
+On his return to Weimar, in June, 1788, Goethe made it his first task
+to finish the remaining works that were called for by his contract
+with Göschen. _Egmont_ and _Tasso_ were soon disposed of, but _Faust_
+proved intractable. While in Rome he had taken out the old manuscript
+and written a scene or two, and had then somehow lost touch with the
+subject. So he decided to revise what he had on hand and to publish a
+part of the scenes as a fragment. This fragmentary _Faust_ came out in
+1790. It attracted little attention, nor was any other of the new
+works received with much warmth by the public of that day. They
+expected something like _Götz_ and _Werther_, and did not understand
+the new Goethe, who showed in many ways that his heart was still in
+Italy and that he found Weimar a little dull and provincial. Thus the
+greatest of German poets had for the time being lost touch with the
+German public; he saw that he must wait for the growth of the taste by
+which he was to be understood and enjoyed. Matters were hardly made
+better by his taking Christiane Vulpius into his house as his unwedded
+wife. This step, which shocked Weimar society--except the duke and
+Herder--had the effect of ending his unwholesome relation to Frau von
+Stein, who was getting old and peevish. The character of Christiane
+has often been pictured too harshly. She was certainly not her
+husband's intellectual peer--he would have looked long for a wife of
+that grade--and she became a little too fond of wine. On the other
+hand, she was affectionate, devoted, true, and by no means lacking in
+mental gifts. She and Goethe were happy together and faithful to
+each other.
+
+For several years after his return from Italy Goethe wrote nothing
+that is of much importance in the history of his literary life. He
+devoted himself largely to scientific studies in plant and animal
+morphology and the theory of color. His discovery of the
+intermaxillary bone in the human skull, and his theory that the
+lateral organs of a plant are but successive phases of the leaf, have
+given him an assured if modest place in the history of the development
+hypothesis. On the other hand, his long and laborious effort to refute
+Newton's theory of the composition of white light is now generally
+regarded as a misdirection of energy. In his _Roman Elegies_ (1790) he
+struck a note of pagan sensuality. The pensive distichs, telling of
+the wanton doings of Amor amid the grandeur that was Rome, were a
+little shocking in their frank portraiture of the emancipated flesh.
+The outbreak of violence in France seemed to him nothing but madness
+and folly, since he did not see the real Revolution, but only the
+Paris Terror.
+
+He wrote two or three very ordinary plays to satirize various phases
+of the revolutionary excitement--phases that now seem as insignificant
+as the plays themselves. In 1792 he accompanied the Duke of Weimar on
+the inglorious Austro-Prussian invasion of France, heard the cannonade
+at Valmy, and was an interested observer as the allies tumbled back
+over the Rhine. Perhaps the best literary achievement of these years
+is the fine hexameter version of the medieval _Reynard the Fox_.
+
+The year 1794 marks the beginning of more intimate relations between
+Goethe and Schiller. Their memorable friendship lasted until
+Schiller's death, in 1805--the richest decade in the whole history of
+German letters. The two men became in a sense allies and stood
+together in the championship of good taste and humane idealism.
+Goethe's literary occupations during this period were very
+multifarious; a list of his writings in the various fields of poetry,
+drama, prose fiction, criticism, biography, art and art-history,
+literary scholarship, and half a dozen sciences, would show a
+many-sidedness to which there is no modern parallel. Of all this mass
+of writing only a few works of major importance can even be
+mentioned here.
+
+In 1796 appeared _Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship_, a novel which
+captivated the literary class, if not the general public, and was
+destined to exert great influence on German fiction for a generation
+to come. It had been some twenty years in the making. In its earlier
+form it was called _Wilhelm Meister's Theatrical Mission_.[3] This
+tells the story of a Werther-like youth who is to be saved from
+Werther's fate by finding a work to do. His "mission," apparently, is
+to become a good actor and to promote high ideals of the histrionic
+art. Incidentally he is ambitious to be a dramatic poet, and his
+childhood is simply that of Wolfgang Goethe. For reasons intimately
+connected with his own development Goethe finally decided to change
+his plan and his title, and to present Wilhelm's variegated
+experiences as an apprenticeship in the school of life. In the final
+version Wilhelm comes to the conclusion that the theatre is _not_ his
+mission--all that was a mistaken ambition. Just what use he _will_
+make of his well-disciplined energy does not clearly appear at the end
+of the story, since Goethe bundles him off to Italy. He was already
+planning a continuation of the story under the title of _Wilhelm
+Meister's Journeymanship_. In this second part the hero becomes
+interested in questions of social uplift and thinks of becoming a
+surgeon. Taken as a whole _Wilhelm Meister_ moves with a slowness
+which is quite out of tune with later ideals of prose fiction. It also
+lacks concentration and artistic finality. But it is replete with
+Goethe's ripe and mellow wisdom, and it contains more of his intimate
+self than any other work of his except _Faust_.
+
+During this high noon of his life Goethe again took up his long
+neglected _Faust_, decided to make two parts of it, completed the
+First Part, and thought out much that was to go into the Second Part.
+By this time he had become somewhat alienated from the spirit of his
+youth, when he had envisaged life in a mist of vague and stormy
+emotionalism. His present passion was for clearness. So he boldly
+decided to convert the old tragedy of sin and suffering into a drama
+of mental clearing-up. The early Faust--the pessimist, murderer,
+seducer--was to be presented as temporarily wandering in the dark; as
+a man who had gone grievously wrong in passionate error, but was
+essentially "good" by virtue of his aspiring nature, and hence, in the
+Lord's fulness of time, was to be led out into the light and saved.
+The First Part, ending with the heart-rending death of Margaret in her
+prison-cell, and leaving Faust in an agony of remorse, was published
+in 1808. Faust's redemption, by enlarged experience of life and
+especially by his symbolic union with the Greek Queen of Beauty, was
+reserved for the Second Part.
+
+[Illustration: MONUMENT TO GOETHE (Berlin 1880) Sculptor, Fritz
+ Schaper]
+
+The other more notable works of this period are _Hermann and
+Dorothea_, a delightful poem in dactylic hexameters, picturing a bit
+of German still life against the sinister background of the French
+Revolution, and the _Natural Daughter_, which was planned to body
+forth, in the form of a dramatic trilogy in blank verse, certain
+phases of Goethe's thinking about the upheaval in France. In the
+former he appears once more as a poet of the plain people, with an eye
+and a heart for their ways and their outlook upon life. Everybody
+likes _Hermann and Dorothea_. On the other hand, the _Natural
+Daughter_ is disappointing, and not merely because it is a fragment.
+(Only the first part of the intended trilogy was written.) Goethe had
+now convinced himself that the function of art is to present the
+typical. Accordingly the characters appear as types of humanity
+divested of all that is accidental or peculiar to the individual. The
+most of them have not even a name. The consequence is that,
+notwithstanding the splendid verse and the abounding wisdom of the
+speeches, the personages do not seem to be made of genuine human
+stuff. As a great thinker's comment on the Revolution the _Natural
+Daughter_ is almost negligible.
+
+The decade that followed the death of Schiller was for Germany a time
+of terrible trial, during which Goethe pursued the even tenor of his
+way as a poet and man of science. He had little sympathy with the
+national uprising against Napoleon, whom he looked on as the
+invincible subduer of the hated Revolution. From the point of view of
+our modern nationalism, which was just then entering on its
+world-transforming career, his conduct was unpatriotic. But let him at
+least be rightly understood. It was not that he lacked sympathy for
+the German people, but he misjudged and underestimated the new forces
+that were coming into play. As the son of an earlier age he could only
+conceive a people's welfare as the gift of a wise ruler. He thought of
+politics as the affair of the great. He hated war and all eruptive
+violence, being convinced that good would come, not by such means, but
+by enlightenment, self-control and attending to one's work in one's
+sphere. To the historian Luden he said in 1813:
+
+"Do not believe that I am indifferent to the great ideas of freedom,
+people, fatherland. No! These ideas are in us, they are a part of our
+being, and no one can cast them from him. I too have a warm heart for
+Germany. I have often felt bitter pain in thinking of the German
+people, so worthy of respect in some ways, so miserable on the whole.
+A comparison of the German people with other peoples arouses painful
+emotions which I try in every way to surmount; and in science and art
+I have found the wings whereby I rise above them. But the comfort
+which these afford is after all a poor comfort that does not
+compensate for the proud consciousness of belonging to a great and
+strong people that is honored and feared."
+
+In 1808 he published _The Elective Affinities_, a novel in which the
+tragic effects of lawless passion invading the marriage relation were
+set forth with telling art. Soon after this he began to write a memoir
+of his life. He was now a European celebrity, the dream of his youth
+had come true, and he purposed to show in detail how everything had
+happened; that is, how his literary personality had evolved amid the
+environing conditions. He conceived himself as a phenomenon to be
+explained. That he called his memoir _Poetry and Truth_ was perhaps an
+error of judgment, since the title has been widely misunderstood. For
+Goethe poetry was not the antithesis of truth, but a higher species of
+truth--the actuality as seen by the selecting, combining, and
+harmonizing imagination. In themselves, he would have said, the facts
+of a man's life are meaningless, chaotic, discordant: it is the poet's
+office to put them into the crucible of his spirit and give them forth
+as a significant and harmonious whole. The "poetry" of Goethe's
+autobiography--by far the best of autobiographies in the German
+language--must not be taken to imply concealment, perversion,
+substitution, or anything of that gross kind.
+
+[Illustration: GOETHE'S MONUMENT IN ROME. (SCULPTOR, EBERLEIN)
+ Presented to the City of Rome by the German Emperor (From Seidel's
+ _Der Kaiser and die Kunst_)]
+
+It lies in the very style of the book and is a part of its author's
+method of self-revelation. That he devotes so much space to the
+seemingly transient and unimportant love-affairs of his youth is only
+his way of recognizing that the poet-soul is born of love and
+nourished by love. He felt that these fleeting amorosities were a part
+of the natural history of his inner being.
+
+And even in the serene afternoon of his life lovely woman often
+disturbed his soul, just as in the days of his youth. But the poetic
+expression of his feeling gradually became less simple and direct: he
+liked to embroider it with musing reflections and exotic fancies
+gathered from everywhere. Just as he endeavored with indefatigable
+eagerness of mind to keep abreast of scientific research, so he tried
+to assimilate the poetry of all nations. The Greeks and Romans no
+longer sufficed his omnivorous appetite and his "panoramic ability."
+When Hammer-Purgstall's German version of the _D[=i]w[=a]n_ of
+H[=a]f[=i]z came into his hands he at once set about making himself at
+home in the mental world of the Persian and Arabic poets. Thus arose
+his _Divan_ (1819), in which he imitated the oriental costume, but not
+the form. His aim was to reproduce in German verse the peculiar savor
+of the Orientals, with their unique blend of sensuality, wit, and
+mystic philosophy. But the feeling--the inner experience--was all his
+own. The best book of the _Divan_, the one called _Suleika_, was
+inspired by a very real liking for Marianne Willemer, a talented lady
+who played the love-game with him and actually wrote some of the poems
+long ascribed to Goethe himself.
+
+At last, in 1824, when he was seventy-five years old, he came back
+once more to his _Faust_, the completion of which had long floated
+before his mind as a duty that he owed to himself and to the world.
+There was no longer any doubt as to what his great life-work was to
+be. With admirable energy and with perfect clarity of vision he
+addressed himself to the gigantic task, the general plan of which and
+many of the details had been thought out long before. It was finished
+in the summer of 1831. About sixty years after he had penned the first
+words of Faust, the disgruntled pessimist at war with life, he took
+leave of him as a purified soul mounting upward among the saints
+toward the Ineffable Light, under the mystic guidance of the
+Eternal-Womanly.
+
+Goethe died March 18, 1832. The story that his last words were "more
+light" is probably nothing more than a happy invention.
+
+Admirers of the great German see more in him than the author of the
+various works which have been all too briefly characterized in the
+preceding sketch. His is a case where, in very truth, the whole is
+more than the sum of the parts. Goethe is the representative of an
+epoch. He stands for certain ideals which are not those of the present
+hour, but which it was of inestimable value to the modern man to have
+thus nobly worked out and exemplified in practice. Behind and beneath
+his writings, informing them and giving them their value for
+posterity, is a wonderful personality which it is a delight and an
+education to study in the whole process of its evolution. By way of
+struggle, pain and error, like his own Faust, he arrived at a view of
+life, in which he found inspiration and inner peace. It is outlined in
+the verses which he placed before his short poems as a sort of motto:
+
+  Wide horizon, eager life,
+  Busy years of honest strife,
+  Ever seeking, ever founding,
+  Never ending, ever rounding,
+  Guarding tenderly the old,
+  Taking of the new glad hold,
+  Pure in purpose, light of heart,
+  Thus we gain--at least a start.
+
+[Illustration:  THE DEATH OF GOETHE Fritz Fleischer]
+
+
+
+POEMS
+
+GREETING AND DEPARTURE[4] (1771)
+
+  My heart throbbed high: to horse, away then!
+    Swift as a hero to the fight!
+  Earth in the arms of evening lay then,
+    And o'er the mountains hung the night,
+  Now could I see like some huge giant
+    The haze-enveloped oak-tree rise,
+  While from the thicket stared defiant
+    The darkness with its hundred eyes.
+
+  The cloud-throned moon from his dominion
+    Peered drowsily through veils of mist.
+  The wind with gently-wafting pinion
+    Gave forth a rustling strange and whist.
+  With shapes of fear the night was thronging
+    But all the more my courage glowed;
+  My soul flamed up in passionate longing
+    And hot my heart with rapture flowed.
+
+  I saw thee; melting rays of pleasure
+    Streamed o'er me from thy tender glance,
+  My heart beat only to thy measure,
+    I drew my breath as in a trance.
+  The radiant hue of spring caressing
+    Lay rosy on thy upturned face,
+  And love--ye gods, how rich the blessing!
+    I dared not hope to win such grace.
+
+  To part--alas what grief in this is!--
+    In every look thy heart spoke plain.
+  What ecstasy was in thy kisses!
+    What changing thrill of joy and pain!
+    I went. One solace yet to capture,
+    Thine eyes pursued in sweet distress.
+  But to be loved, what holy rapture!
+    To love, ah gods, what happiness!
+
+[Illustration: THE HEATHROSE K. Kogler]
+
+
+THE HEATHROSE[5] (1771)
+
+  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 splendor.
+  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
+    Heathrose fair and tender!
+  Said the boy, "I'll now pick thee
+    Heathrose fair and tender!"
+  Rosebud cried "And I'll prick thee,
+  So thou shalt remember me,
+    Ne'er will I surrender!"
+  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
+    Heathrose fair and tender!
+  But the wanton plucked the rose,
+    Heathrose fair and tender;
+  Thorns the cruel theft oppose,
+  Brief the struggle and vain the woes,
+    She must needs surrender.
+  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
+    Heathrose fair and tender!
+
+
+MAHOMET'S SONG[6] (1773)
+
+[This song was intended to be introduced in a dramatic poem entitled
+_Mahomet_, the plan of which was not carried out by Goethe. He
+mentions that it was to have been sung by Ali toward the end of the
+piece, in honor of his master, Mahomet, shortly before his death, and
+when at the height of his glory, of which it is typical.]
+
+  See the rock-born stream!
+  Like the gleam
+  Of a star so bright!
+  Kindly spirits
+  High above the clouds
+  Nourished him while youthful
+  In the copse between the cliffs.
+
+  Young and fresh,
+  From the clouds he danceth
+  Down upon the marble rocks;
+  Then tow'rd heaven
+  Leaps exulting.
+
+  Through the mountain-passes
+  Chaseth he the color'd pebbles,
+  And, advancing like a chief,
+  Draws his brother streamlets with him
+  In his course.
+
+  In the vale below
+  'Neath his footsteps spring the flowers,
+  And the meadow
+  In his breath finds life.
+
+  Yet no shady vale can stay him,
+  Nor can flowers,
+  Round his knees all softly twining
+  With their loving eyes detain him;
+  To the plain his course he taketh,
+  Serpent-winding.
+
+  Eager streamlets
+  Join his waters. And now moves he
+  O'er the plain in silv'ry glory,
+  And the plain in him exults,
+  And the rivers from the plain,
+  And the streamlets from the mountain,
+  Shout with joy, exclaiming: "Brother,
+  Brother, take thy brethren with thee.
+  With thee to thine agèd father,
+  To the everlasting ocean,
+  Who, with arms outstretching far,
+  Waiteth for us;
+  Ah, in vain those arms lie open
+  To embrace his yearning children;
+  For the thirsty sand consumes us
+  In the desert waste; the sunbeams
+  Drink our life-blood; hills around us
+  Into lakes would dam us! Brother,
+  Take thy brethren of the plain,
+  Take thy brethren of the mountain
+  With thee, to thy father's arms!"--
+
+  Let all come, then!--
+  And now swells he
+  Lordlier still; yea, e'en a people
+  Bears his regal flood on high!
+  And in triumph onward rolling,
+  Names to countries gives he,--cities
+  Spring to light beneath his foot.
+
+  Ever, ever, on he rushes,
+  Leaves the towers' flame-tipp'd summits,
+  Marble palaces, the offspring
+  Of his fulness, far behind.
+
+  Cedar-houses bears the Atlas
+  On his giant shoulders; flutt'ring
+  In the breeze far, far above him
+  Thousand flags are gaily floating,
+  Bearing witness to his might.
+
+  And so beareth he his brethren,
+  All his treasures, all his children,
+  Wildly shouting, to the bosom
+  Of his long-expectant sire.
+
+
+PROMETHEUS[7] (1774)
+
+  Cover thy spacious heavens, Zeus,
+  With clouds of mist,
+  And, like the boy who lops
+  The thistles' heads,
+  Disport with oaks and mountain-peaks;
+  Yet thou must leave
+
+  My earth still standing;
+  My cottage too, which was not raised by thee,
+  Leave me my hearth,
+  Whose kindly glow
+  By thee is envied.
+
+  I know nought poorer
+  Under the sun, than ye gods!
+  Ye nourish painfully,
+  With sacrifices
+  And votive prayers,
+  Your majesty;
+  Ye would e'en starve,
+  If children and beggars
+  Were not trusting fools.
+  While yet a child,
+  And ignorant of life,
+  I turned my wandering gaze
+  Up tow'rd the sun, as if with him
+  There were an ear to hear my wailing,
+  A heart, like mine
+  To feel compassion for distress.
+
+  Who help'd me
+  Against the Titans' insolence?
+  Who rescued me from certain death,
+  From slavery?
+  Didst thou not do all this thyself,
+  My sacred glowing heart?
+  And glowedst, young and good,
+  Deceived with grateful thanks
+  To yonder slumbering one?
+
+  I honor thee! and why?
+  Hast thou e'er lighten'd the sorrows
+  Of the heavy laden?
+  Hast thou e'er dried up the tears
+
+[Illustration: PROMETHEUS Titian.]
+
+  Of the anguish-stricken?
+  Was I not fashion'd to be a man
+  By omnipotent Time,
+  And by eternal Fate,
+  Masters of me and thee?
+
+  Didst thou e'er fancy
+  That life I should learn to hate,
+  And fly to deserts,
+  Because not all
+  My blossoming dreams grew ripe?
+
+  Here sit I, forming mortals
+  After my image;
+  A race resembling me,
+  To suffer, to weep,
+  To enjoy, to be glad,
+  And thee to scorn,
+  As I!
+
+
+THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG[8] (1776)
+
+  Thou who comest from on high,
+    Who all woes and sorrows stillest,
+  Who, for two-fold misery,
+    Hearts with twofold balsam fillest,
+  Would this constant strife would cease!
+    What avails the joy and pain?
+  Blissful Peace,
+    To my bosom come again!
+
+
+THE SEA-VOYAGE[9] (1776)
+
+  Many a day and night my bark stood ready laden;
+  Waiting fav'ring winds, I sat with true friends round me,
+  Pledging me to patience and to courage,
+  In the haven.
+
+  And they spoke thus with impatience twofold:
+  "Gladly pray we for thy rapid passage,
+  Gladly for thy happy voyage; fortune
+  In the distant world is waiting for thee,
+  In our arms thou'lt find thy prize, and love too,
+  When returning."
+
+  And when morning came, arose an uproar
+  And the sailors' joyous shouts awoke us;
+  All was stirring, all was living, moving,
+  Bent on sailing with the first kind zephyr.
+
+  And the sails soon in the breeze are swelling,
+  And the sun with fiery love invites us;
+  Fill'd the sails are, clouds on high are floating,
+  On the shore each friend exulting raises
+  Songs of hope, in giddy joy expecting
+  Joy the voyage through, as on the morn of sailing,
+  And the earliest starry nights so radiant.
+
+  But by God-sent changing winds ere long he's driven
+  Sideways from the course he had intended,
+  And he feigns as though he would surrender,
+  While he gently striveth to outwit them,
+  To his goal, e'en when thus press'd, still faithful.
+
+  But from out the damp gray distance rising,
+  Softly now the storm proclaims its advent,
+  Presseth down each bird upon the waters,
+  Presseth down the throbbing hearts of mortals.
+  And it cometh. At its stubborn fury,
+  Wisely ev'ry sail the seaman striketh;
+  With the anguish-laden ball are sporting
+  Wind and water.
+
+  And on yonder shore are gather'd standing,
+  Friends and lovers, trembling for the bold one:
+  "Why, alas, remain'd he here not with us!
+  Ah, the tempest I Cast away by fortune!
+  Must the good one perish in this fashion?
+  Might not he perchance * * *. Ye great immortals!"
+
+  Yet he, like a man, stands by his rudder;
+  With the bark are sporting wind and water,
+  Wind and water sport not with his bosom:
+  On the fierce deep looks he, as a master,--
+  In his gods, or shipwreck'd, or safe landed,
+  Trusting ever.
+
+
+ TO THE MOON[10] (1778)
+
+  Bush and vale thou fill'st again
+    With thy misty ray,
+  And my spirit's heavy chain
+    Casteth far away.
+
+  Thou dost o'er my fields extend
+    Thy sweet soothing eye,
+  Watching like a gentle friend,
+    O'er my destiny.
+
+  Vanish'd days of bliss and woe
+    Haunt me with their tone,
+  Joy and grief in turns I know,
+    As I stray alone.
+
+  Stream beloved, flow on! Flow on!
+    Ne'er can I be gay!
+  Thus have sport and kisses gone,
+    Truth thus pass'd away.
+
+  Once I seem'd the lord to be
+    Of that prize so fair!
+  Now, to our deep sorrow, we
+    Can forget it ne'er.
+
+  Murmur, stream, the vale along,
+    Never cease thy sighs;
+  Murmur, whisper to my song
+    Answering melodies!
+
+  When thou in the winter's night
+    Overflow'st in wrath,
+  Or in spring-time sparklest bright,
+    As the buds shoot forth.
+
+  He who from the world retires,
+    Void of hate, is blest;
+  Who a friend's true love inspires,
+    Leaning on his breast!
+
+  That which heedless man ne'er knew,
+    Or ne'er thought aright,
+  Roams the bosom's labyrinth through,
+    Boldly into night.
+
+
+THE FISHERMAN[11] (1778)
+
+  The waters rush'd, the waters rose,
+    A fisherman sat by,
+  While on his line in calm repose
+    He cast his patient eye.
+  And as he sat, and hearken'd there,
+    The flood was cleft in twain,
+  And, lo! a dripping mermaid fair
+    Sprang from the troubled main.
+
+  She sang to him, and spake the while
+    "Why lurest thou my brood,
+  With human wit and human guile
+    From out their native flood?
+  Oh, couldst thou know how gladly dart
+    The fish across the sea,
+  Thou wouldst descend, e'en as thou art,
+    And truly happy be!
+
+  Do not the sun and moon with grace
+    Their forms in ocean lave?
+  Shines not with twofold charms their face,
+    When rising from the wave?
+  The deep, deep heavens, then lure thee not,--
+    The moist yet radiant blue,--
+  Not thine own form,--to tempt thy lot
+    'Midst this eternal dew?"
+
+  The waters rush'd, the waters rose,
+    Wetting his naked feet;
+  As if his true love's words were those,
+    His heart with longing beat.
+  She sang to him, to him spake she,
+    His doom was fix'd, I ween;
+  Half drew she him, and half sank he,
+    And ne'er again was seen.
+
+[Illustration: THE FISHERMAN AND THE MERMAID Georg Papperitz]
+
+
+THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG[12] (1780)
+
+[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill in the forest of Ilmenau,
+on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composed the last act
+of his _Iphigenie_.]
+
+  Hush'd on the hill
+  Is the breeze;
+  Scarce by the zephyr
+  The trees
+  Softly are press'd;
+  The woodbird's asleep on the bough.
+  Wait, then, and thou
+  Soon wilt find rest.
+
+
+THE ERL-KING[13] (1782)
+
+  Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
+  The father it is, with his infant so dear;
+  He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm,
+  He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.
+
+  "My son, wherefore seek's thou thy face thus to hide?"
+  "Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!
+  Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?"
+  "My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain."
+
+  "Oh come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!
+  Full many a game I will play there with thee;
+  On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,
+  My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold."
+
+  "My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
+  The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?"
+  "Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;
+  'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."
+
+  "Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?
+  My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care;
+  My daughters by night their glad festival keep,
+  They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."
+
+  "My father, my father, and dost thou not see,
+  How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?"
+  "My darling, my darling, I see it aright,
+  'Tis the agèd gray willows deceiving thy sight."
+
+  "I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!
+  And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."
+  "My father, my father, he seizes me fast,
+  Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last."
+
+  The father now gallops, with terror half wild,
+  He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
+  He reaches his court-yard with toil and with dread,--
+  The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.
+
+
+THE GODLIKE[14] (1783)
+
+  Noble be man,
+  Helpful and good!
+  For that alone
+  Distinguisheth him
+  From all the beings
+  Unto us known.
+
+  Hail to the beings,
+  Unknown and glorious,
+  Whom we forebode!
+  From _his_ example
+  Learn we to know them!
+
+  For unfeeling
+  Nature is ever
+  On bad and on good
+  The sun alike shineth;
+  And on the wicked,
+  As on the best,
+  The moon and stars gleam.
+
+  Tempest and torrent,
+  Thunder and hail,
+  Roar on their path,
+  Seizing the while,
+  As they haste onward,
+  One after another.
+
+  Even so, fortune
+  Gropes 'mid the throng--
+  Innocent boyhood's
+  Curly head seizing,--
+  Seizing the hoary
+  Head of the sinner.
+
+  After laws mighty,
+  Brazen, eternal,
+  Must all we mortals
+  Finish the circuit
+  Of our existence.
+
+  Man, and man only
+  Can do the impossible
+  He 'tis distinguisheth,
+  Chooseth and judgeth;
+  He to the moment
+  Endurance can lend.
+
+  He and he only
+  The good can reward,
+  The bad can he punish,
+  Can heal and can save;
+  All that wanders and strays
+  Can usefully blend.
+
+  And we pay homage
+  To the immortals
+  As though they were men,
+  And did in the great,
+  What the best, in the small,
+  Does or might do.
+
+  Be the man that is noble,
+  Both helpful and good,
+  Unweariedly forming
+  The right and the useful,
+  A type of those beings
+  Our mind hath foreshadow'd!
+
+
+MIGNON[15] (1785)
+
+[This universally known poem is also to be found in _Wilhelm
+Meister_.]
+
+  Know'st thou the land where the fair citron blows,
+  Where the bright orange midst the foliage glows,
+  Where soft winds greet us from the azure skies,
+  Where silent myrtles, stately laurels rise,
+  Know'st thou it well?
+
+                         'Tis there, 'tis there,
+  That I with thee, beloved one, would repair.
+
+  Know'st thou the house? On columns rests its pile,
+  Its halls are gleaming, and its chambers smile,
+  And marble statues stand and gaze on me:
+  "Poor child! what sorrow hath befallen thee?"
+  Know'st thou it well?
+
+                         'Tis there, 'tis there,
+  That I with thee, protector, would repair!
+
+  Know'st thou the mountain, and its cloudy bridge?
+  The mule can scarcely find the misty ridge;
+  In caverns dwells the dragon's olden brood,
+  The frowning crag obstructs the raging flood.
+  Know'st thou it well?
+
+                         'Tis there, 'tis there,
+  Our path lies--Father--thither, oh repair!
+
+
+PROXIMITY OF THE BELOVED ONE[16] (1795)
+
+  I think of thee, whene'er the sun his beams
+      O'er ocean flings;
+  I think of thee, whene'er the moonlight gleams
+      In silv'ry springs.
+
+  I see thee, when upon the distant ridge
+      The dust awakes;
+  At midnight's hour, when on the fragile bridge
+      The wanderer quakes.
+
+  I hear thee, when yon billows rise on high,
+      With murmur deep.
+  To tread the silent grove oft wander I,
+      When all's asleep.
+
+  I'm near thee, though thou far away mayst be--
+      Thou, too, art near!
+  The sun then sets, the stars soon lighten me,
+      Would thou wert here!
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT[17] (1802)
+
+  Up yonder on the mountain,
+    I dwelt for days together;
+  Looked down into the valley,
+    This pleasant summer weather.
+
+  My sheep go feeding onward,
+    My dog sits watching by;
+  I've wandered to the valley,
+    And yet I know not why.
+
+  The meadow, it is pretty,
+    With flowers so fair to see;
+  I gather them, but no one
+    Will take the flowers from me.
+
+  The good tree gives me shadow,
+    And shelter from the rain;
+  But yonder door is silent,
+    It will not ope again!
+
+  I see the rainbow bending,
+    Above her old abode,
+  But she is there no longer;
+    They've taken my love abroad.
+
+  They took her o'er the mountains,
+    They took her o'er the sea;
+  Move on, move on, my bonny sheep,
+    There is no rest for me!
+
+
+NATURE AND ART[18] (1802)
+
+  Nature and art asunder seem to fly,
+    Yet sooner than we think find common ground;
+    In place of strife, harmonious songs resound,
+  And both, at one, to my abode draw nigh.
+  In sooth but one endeavor I descry:
+    Then only, when in ordered moments' round
+    Wisdom and toil our lives to Art have bound,
+  Dare we rejoice in Nature's liberty.
+  Thus is achievement fashioned everywhere:
+    Not by ungovernable, hasty zeal
+      Shalt thou the height of perfect form attain.
+  Husband thy strength, if great emprize thou dare;
+    In self-restraint thy masterhood reveal,
+      And under law thy perfect freedom gain.
+
+
+COMFORT IN TEARS[19] (1803)
+
+  How is it that thou art so sad
+    When others are so gay?
+  Thou hast been weeping--nay, thou hast!
+    Thine eyes the truth betray.
+
+  "And if I may not choose but weep
+    Is not my grief mine own?
+  No heart was heavier yet for tears--
+    O leave me, friend, alone!"
+
+  Come join this once the merry band,
+    They call aloud for thee,
+  And mourn no more for what is lost,
+    But let the past go free.
+
+  "O, little know ye in your mirth,
+    What wrings my heart so deep!
+  I have not lost the idol yet,
+    For which I sigh and weep."
+
+  Then rouse thee and take heart! thy blood
+    Is young and full of fire;
+  Youth should have hope and might to win,
+    And wear its best desire.
+
+  "O, never may I hope to gain
+    What dwells from me so far;
+  It stands as high, it looks as bright,
+    As yonder burning star."
+
+  Why, who would seek to woo the stars
+    Down from their glorious sphere?
+  Enough it is to worship them,
+    When nights are calm and clear.
+
+  "Oh, I look up and worship too--
+    My star it shines by day--
+  Then let me weep the livelong night
+    The while it is away."
+
+
+EPILOGUE TO SCHILLER'S "SONG OF THE
+BELL"[20]
+
+[This fine piece, written originally in 1805, on Schiller's death,
+was altered and recast by Goethe in 1815, on the occasion of the
+performance on the stage of the _Song of the Bell_. Hence the allusion
+in the last verse.]
+
+  To this city joy reveal it!
+  Peace as its first signal peal it!
+
+(_Song of the Bell_--concluding lines).
+
+  And so it proved! The nation felt, ere long,
+  That peaceful signal, and, with blessings fraught,
+  A new-born joy appeared; in gladsome song
+  To hail the youthful princely pair we sought;
+  While in the living, ever-swelling throng
+  Mingled the crowds from every region brought,
+  And on the stage, in festal pomp arrayed,
+  The HOMAGE OF THE ARTS[21] we saw displayed.
+
+  When, lo! a fearful midnight sound I hear,
+  That with a dull and mournful echo rings.
+  And can it be that of our friend so dear
+  It tells, to whom each wish so fondly clings?
+  Shall death o'ercome a life that all revere?
+  How such a loss to all confusion brings!
+  How such a parting we must ever rue!
+  The world is weeping--shall not we weep, too?
+
+  He was our own! How social, yet how great
+  Seemed in the light of day his noble mind!
+  How was his nature, pleasing yet sedate,
+  Now for glad converse joyously inclined,
+  Then swiftly changing, spirit-fraught elate,
+  Life's plan with deep-felt meaning it designed,
+  Fruitful alike in counsel and in deed!
+  This have we proved, this tested, in our need.
+
+  He was our own! O may that thought so blest
+  O'ercome the voice of wailing and of woe!
+  He might have sought the Lasting, safe at rest
+  In harbor, when the tempest ceased to blow.
+  Meanwhile his mighty spirit onward pressed
+  Where goodness, beauty, truth, forever grow;
+  And in his rear, in shadowy outline, lay
+  The vulgar, which we all, alas, obey!
+
+  Now doth he deck the garden-turret fair
+  Where the stars' language first illumed his soul,
+  As secretly yet clearly through the air
+  On the eterne, the living sense it stole;
+  And to his own, and our great profit, there
+  Exchangeth to the seasons as they roll;
+  Thus nobly doth he vanquish, with renown,
+  The twilight and the night that weigh us down.
+
+  Brighter now glowed his cheek, and still more bright,
+  With that unchanging, ever-youthful glow,--
+  That courage which o'ercomes, in hard-fought fight,
+  Sooner or later, every earthly foe,--
+  That faith which, soaring to the realms of light,
+  Now boldly presseth on, now bendeth low,
+  So that the good may work, wax, thrive amain,
+  So that the day the noble may attain.
+
+  Yet, though so skilled, of such transcendent worth,
+  This boarded scaffold doth he not despise;
+  The fate that on its axis turns the earth
+  From day to night, here shows he to our eyes,
+  Raising, through many a work of glorious birth,
+  Art and the artist's fame up toward the skies.
+  He fills with blossoms of the noblest strife,
+  With life itself, this effigy of life.
+
+  His giant-step, as ye full surely know,
+  Measured the circle of the will and deed,
+  Each country's changing thoughts and morals, too,
+  The darksome book with clearness could he read;
+  Yet how he, breathless 'midst his friends so true,
+  Despaired in sorrow, scarce from pain was freed,--
+  All this have we, in sadly happy years,
+  For he was ours, bewailed with feeling tears.
+
+  When from the agonizing weight of grief
+  He raised his eyes upon the world again,
+  We showed him how his thoughts might find relief
+  From the uncertain present's heavy chain,
+  Gave his fresh-kindled mind a respite brief,
+  With kindly skill beguiling every pain,
+  And e'en at eve when setting was his sun,
+  From his wan cheeks a gentle smile we won.
+
+  Full early had he read the stern decree,
+  Sorrow and death to him, alas, were known;
+  Ofttimes recovering, now departed he,--
+  Dread tidings, that our hearts had feared to own!
+  Yet his transfigured being now can see
+  Itself, e'en here on earth, transfigured grown.
+  What his own age reproved, and deemed a crime,
+  Hath been ennobled now by death and time.
+
+  And many a soul that with him strove in fight,
+  And his great merit grudged to recognize,
+  Now feels the impress of his wondrous might,
+  And in his magic fetters gladly lies;
+  E'en to the highest hath he winged his flight,
+  In close communion linked with all we prize.
+  Extol him then! What mortals while they live
+  But half receive, posterity shall give.
+
+  Thus is he left us, who so long ago,--
+  Ten years, alas, already!--turned from earth;
+  We all, to our great joy, his precepts know,
+  Oh, may the world confess their priceless worth!
+  In swelling tide toward every region flow
+  The thoughts that were his own peculiar birth;
+  He gleams like some departing meteor bright,
+  Combining, with his own, eternal light.
+
+
+ERGO BIBAMUS![22] (1810)
+
+  For a praiseworthy object we're now gathered here,
+  So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  Tho' talk may be hushed, yet the glasses ring clear,
+  Remember then, ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word,
+  With its sound befitting each bosom is stirred,
+  And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,
+  A glorious ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+  I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare,
+  And bethought me of: ERGO BIBAMUS;
+  So I gently approached, and she let me stand there,
+  While I helped myself, thinking: BIBAMUS!
+  And when she's appeared, and will clasp you and kiss,
+  Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss,
+  Take refuge, till found is some worthier bliss,
+  In the comforting ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+  I am called by my fate far away from each friend;
+  Ye loved ones, then: ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend,
+  So double our ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  Whate'er to his treasure the niggard may add,
+  Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had,
+  For gladness lends ever its charms to the glad,
+  So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+  And what shall we say of to-day as it flies?
+  I thought but of:  ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise,
+  So again and again sing: BIBAMUS!
+  For joy through a wide-open portal it guides,
+  Bright glitter the clouds as the curtain divides,
+  And a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides,
+  While we thunder our: ERGO BIBAMUS.
+
+
+THE WALKING BELL[23] (1813)
+
+  A child refused to go betimes
+  To church like other people;
+  He roamed abroad, when rang the chimes
+  On Sundays from the steeple.
+
+  His mother said: "Loud rings the bell,
+  Its voice ne'er think of scorning;
+  Unless thou wilt behave thee well,
+  'Twill fetch thee without warning."
+
+  The child then thought: "High over head
+  The bell is safe suspended--"
+  So to the fields he straightway sped
+  As if 'twas school-time ended.
+
+  The bell now ceased as bell to ring,
+  Roused by the mother's twaddle;
+  But soon ensued a dreadful thing!--
+  The bell begins to waddle.
+
+  It waddles fast, though strange it seem;
+  The child, with trembling wonder,
+  Runs off, and flies, as in a dream;
+  The bell would draw him under.
+
+  He finds the proper time at last,
+  And straightway nimbly rushes
+  To church, to chapel, hastening fast
+  Through pastures, plains, and bushes.
+
+  Each Sunday and each feast as well,
+  His late disaster heeds he;
+  The moment that he hears the bell,
+  No other summons needs he.
+
+
+FOUND[24] (1813)
+
+  Once through the forest
+  Alone I went;
+  To seek for nothing
+  My thoughts were bent.
+
+  I saw i' the shadow
+  A flower stand there;
+  As stars it glisten'd,
+  As eyes 'twas fair.
+
+  I sought to pluck it,--
+  It gently said:
+  "Shall I be gather'd
+  Only to fade?"
+
+  With all its roots
+  I dug it with care,
+  And took it home
+  To my garden fair.
+
+  In silent corner
+  Soon it was set;
+  There grows it ever,
+  There blooms it yet.
+
+
+HATEM[25] (1815)
+
+  Locks of brown, still bind your captive
+  In the circle of her face!
+  I, beloved sinuous tresses,
+  Naught possess that's worth your grace--
+
+  But a heart whose love enduring
+  Swells in youthful fervor yet:
+  Snow and mists envelop Etna,
+  Making men the fire forget.
+
+  Yonder mountain's pride so stately
+  Thou dost shame like dawn's red glow;
+  And its spell once more bids Hatem
+  Thrill of spring and summer know.
+
+  Once more fill the glass, the flagon!
+  Let me drink to my desire.
+  If she find a heap of ashes,
+  Say, "He perished in her fire!"
+
+
+REUNION[26] (1815)
+
+  Can it be, O star transcendent,
+  That I fold thee to my breast?
+  Now I know, what depths of anguish
+  May in parting be expressed.
+  Yes, 'tis thou, of all my blisses
+  Lovely, loving partner--thou!
+  Mindful of my bygone sorrows,
+  E'en the present awes me now.
+
+  When the world in first conception
+  Lay in God's eternal mind,
+  In creative power delighting
+  He the primal hour designed.
+  When he gave command for being,
+  Then was heard a mighty sigh
+  Full of pain, as all creation
+  Broke into reality.
+
+  Up then sprang the light; and darkness
+  Doubtful stood apart to gaze;
+  All the elements, dividing
+  Swiftly, took their several ways.
+  In confused, disordered dreaming
+  Strove they all for freedom's range--
+  Each for self, no fellow-feeling;
+  Single each, and cold and strange.
+
+  Lo, a marvel--God was lonely!
+  All was still and cold and dumb.
+  So he framed dawn's rosy blushes
+  Whence should consolation come--
+  To refresh the troubled spirit
+  Harmonies of color sweet:
+  What had erst been forced asunder
+  Now at last could love and meet.
+
+  Then, ah then, of life unbounded
+  Sight and feeling passed the gates;
+  Then, ah then, with eager striving
+  Kindred atoms sought their mates.
+  Gently, roughly they may seize them,
+  So they catch and hold them fast:
+  "We," they cry, "are now creators--
+  Allah now may rest at last!"
+
+  So with rosy wings of morning
+  Towards thy lips my being moves;
+  Sets the starry night a thousand
+  Glowing seals upon our loves.
+  We are as we should be--parted
+  Ne'er on earth in joy or pain;
+  And no second word creative
+  E'er can sunder us again!
+
+
+PROOEMION[27] (1816)
+
+  In His blest name, who was His own creation,
+  Who from all time makes _making_ His vocation;
+  The name of Him who makes our faith so bright,
+  Love, confidence, activity, and might;
+  In that One's name, who, named though oft He be,
+  Unknown is ever in Reality:
+  As far as ear can reach, or eyesight dim,
+  Thou findest but the known resembling Him;
+  How high soe'er thy fiery spirit hovers,
+  Its simile and type it straight discovers;
+  Onward thou'rt drawn, with feelings light and gay,
+  Where e'er thou goest, smiling is the way;
+  No more thou numberest, reckonest no time,
+  Each step is infinite, each step sublime.
+  What God would _outwardly_ alone control,
+  And on His finger whirl the mighty Whole?
+  He loves the _inner_ world to move, to view
+  Nature in Him, Himself in Nature, too,
+  So that what in Him works, and is, and lives,
+  The measure of His strength, His spirit gives.
+  Within us all a universe doth dwell;
+  And hence each people's usage laudable,
+  That every one the Best that meets his eyes
+  As God, yea, e'en _his_ God, doth recognize;
+  To Him both earth and heaven surrenders he,
+  Fears Him, and loves Him, too, if that may be.
+
+
+THE ONE AND THE ALL[28] (1821)
+
+  Called to a new employ in boundless space,
+  The lonely monad quits its 'customed place
+  And from life's weary round contented flees.
+  No more of passionate striving, will perverse
+  And hampering obligations, long a curse:
+  Free self-abandonment at last gives peace.
+
+  Soul of the world, come pierce our being through!
+  Across the drift of things our way to hew
+  Is our appointed task, our noblest war.
+  Good spirits by our destined pathway still
+  Lead gently on, best masters of our will,
+  Toward that which made and makes all things that are.
+  To shape for further ends what now has breath,
+  Let nothing harden into ice and death,
+  Works endless living action everywhere.
+  What has not yet existed strives for birth--
+  Toward purer suns, more glorious-colored earth:
+  To rest in idle stillness naught may dare.
+  All must move onward, help transform the mass,
+  Assume a form, to yet another pass;
+  'Tis but in seeming aught is fixed or still.
+  In all things moves the eternal restless Thought;
+  For all, when comes the hour, must fall to naught
+  If to persist in being is its will.
+
+
+LINES ON SEEING SCHILLER'S SKULL[30] (1826)
+
+[This curious imitation of the ternary metre of Dante was written at
+the age of seventy-seven.]
+
+  Within a gloomy charnel-house one day
+  I viewed the countless skulls, so strangely mated,
+  And of old times I thought that now were gray.
+  Close packed they stand that once so fiercely hated,
+  And hardy bones that to the death contended,
+  Are lying crossed,--to lie forever, fated.
+  What held those crooked shoulder-blades suspended?
+  No one now asks; and limbs with vigor fired,
+  The hand, the foot--their use in life is ended.
+  Vainly ye sought the tomb for rest when tired;
+  Peace in the grave may not be yours; ye're driven
+  Back into daylight by a force inspired;
+  But none can love the withered husk, though even
+  A glorious noble kernel it contained.
+
+  To me, an adept, was the writing given
+  Which not to all its holy sense explained.
+  When 'mid the crowd, their icy shadows flinging,
+  I saw a form that glorious still remained,
+  And even there, where mould and damp were clinging,
+  Gave me a blest, a rapture-fraught emotion,
+  As though from death a living fount were springing.
+  What mystic joy I felt! What rapt devotion!
+  That form, how pregnant with a godlike trace!
+  A look, how did it whirl me toward that ocean
+  Whose rolling billows mightier shapes embrace!
+  Mysterious vessel! Oracle how dear!
+  Even to grasp thee is my hand too base,
+  Except to steal thee from thy prison here
+  With pious purpose, and devoutly go
+  Back to the air, free thoughts, and sunlight clear.
+  What greater gain in life can man e'er know
+  Than when God-Nature will to him explain
+  How into Spirit steadfastness may flow,
+  How steadfast, too, the Spirit-Born remain.
+
+
+A LEGACY[31] (1829)
+
+  No living atom comes at last to naught!
+  Active in each is still the eternal Thought:
+  Hold fast to Being if thou wouldst be blest.
+  Being is without end; for changeless laws
+  Bind that from which the All its glory draws
+  Of living treasures endlessly possessed.
+
+  Unto the wise of old this truth was known,
+  Such wisdom knit their noble souls in one;
+  Then hold thou still the lore of ancient days!
+  To that high power thou ow'st it, son of man,
+  By whose decree the earth its circuit ran
+  And all the planets went their various ways.
+  Then inward turn at once thy searching eyes;
+
+  Thence shalt thou see the central truth arise
+  From which no lofty soul goes e'er astray;
+  There shalt thou miss no needful guiding sign--
+  For conscience lives, and still its light divine
+  Shall be the sun of all thy moral day.
+  Next shalt thou trust thy senses' evidence,
+  And fear from them no treacherous offence
+  While the mind's watchful eye thy road commands:
+  With lively pleasure contemplate the scene
+  And roam securely, teachable, serene,
+  At will throughout a world of fruitful lands.
+  Enjoy in moderation all life gives:
+  Where it rejoices in each thing that lives
+  Let reason be thy guide and make thee see.
+  Then shall the distant past be present still,
+  The future, ere it comes, thy vision fill--
+  Each single moment touch eternity.
+  Then at the last shalt thou achieve thy quest,
+  And in one final, firm conviction rest:
+  What bears for thee true fruit alone is true.
+  Prove all things, watch the movement of the world
+  As down the various ways its tribes are whirled;
+  Take thou thy stand among the chosen few.
+  Thus hath it been of old; in solitude
+  The artist shaped what thing to him seemed good,
+  The wise man hearkened to his own soul's voice.
+  Thus also shalt thou find thy greatest bliss;
+  To lead where the elect shall follow--this
+  And this alone is worth a hero's choice.
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO HERMANN AND DOROTHEA
+
+Hermann and Dorothea is universally known and prized in Germany as no
+other work of the classical period of German literature except
+Goethe's _Faust_ and Schiller's _Wilhelm Tell_, and, although
+distinctively German in subject and spirit, it early became and is
+still a precious possession of all the modern world. It marks the
+culmination of the renaissance in the literary art of Germany and
+perhaps of Europe.
+
+Schiller hailed it as the pinnacle of Goethe's and of all modern art.
+A. W. Schlegel in 1797 judged it to be a finished work of art in the
+grand style, and at the same time intelligible, sympathetic,
+patriotic, popular, a book full of golden teachings of wisdom and
+virtue. Two generations later one of the leading historians of German
+literature declared that there is no other poem that comes so near to
+the father of all poetry (Homer) as this, none in which Greek form and
+German content are so intimately blended, and that this is perhaps the
+only poem which without explanation and without embarrassment all the
+modern centuries could offer to an ancient Greek to enjoy. In the view
+of the end of the nineteenth century, expressed by a distinguished
+philosopher-critic, this work is a unique amalgam of the artistic
+spirit, objectivity, and contemplative clearness of Homer with the
+soul-life of the present, the heart-beat of the German people, the
+characteristic traits which mark the German nature.
+
+As Longfellow's _Evangeline_, treating in the same verse-form of the
+dactylic hexameter and in a way partly epic and partly idyllic a story
+of love and domestic interests in a contrasting setting of war and
+exile, was modeled on _Hermann and Dorothea_, so the latter poem was
+suggested by J. H. Voss' idyl _Luise_, published first in parts in
+1783 and 1784 and as a whole revised in 1795. Of his delight in
+_Luise_ Goethe wrote to Schiller in February, 1798: "This proved to be
+much to my advantage, for this joy finally became productive in me, it
+drew me into this form (the epic), begot my _Hermann_, and who knows
+what may yet come of it." But _Luise_ is not really epic; it is
+without action, without unity, without any large historical outlook,--a
+series of minutely pictured, pleasing idyllic scenes.
+
+In contrast herewith Goethe's purpose was in his own words, "in an
+epic crucible to free from its dross the purely human existence of a
+small German town, and at the same time mirror in a small glass the
+great movements and changes of the world's stage." This purpose he
+achieved in the writing of _Hermann and Dorothea_ at intervals from
+September, 1796, through the summer of 1797, in the autumn of which
+year the poem was published.
+
+The main sources from which the poet drew his material are four. In
+the first place the theme was invented by him out of an anecdote of
+the flight of Protestant refugees from the Archbishopric of Salzburg
+in 1731-1732. On the basis of this anecdote he drew the original
+outlines of the meeting and union of the lovers. Secondly, as a
+consequence of the French Revolution, Germans were forced to flee from
+German territory west of the Rhine. Goethe was present with Prussian
+troops in France in 1792, and observed the siege of Mainz in 1793.
+Hence his knowledge of war and exile, with their attendant cruelties
+and sufferings. Thirdly, the personal experiences of his own life
+could not but contribute to his description of the then German
+present. Features of Frankfurt and Ilmenau reappear. The characters
+show traits of Goethe's parents, and possibly something of his wife is
+in Dorothea. Hermann's mother bears the name of the poet's and reveals
+many of her qualities. But some of these are given to the
+landlord-father, while the elder Goethe's pedantry and petty
+weaknesses are shown in the apothecary. The poet's experiences in the
+field are realistically reproduced in many particulars of character
+and incident, as are doubtless also his mother's vivid reports of
+events in Frankfurt during July and August, 1796. We may feel sure too
+that it was the occurrences of this summer that led Goethe to
+transform the short, pure idyl of his first intention into a longer
+epic of his own present. The fourth source is literary tradition,
+which we may trace back through the verse idyl of Voss to the prose
+idyl of Gessner, thence through the unnatural Arcadian pastorals of
+the seventeenth and earlier centuries to the great Greek
+creators,--Theocritus, of the idyl, and Homer, of the epic.
+
+From whatever source derived, the materials were transmuted and
+combined by Goethe's genius into a broad, full picture of German life,
+with characters typical of the truly human and of profound ethical
+importance, interpreting to the attentive reader the significance of
+life for the individual, the family, the nation.
+
+
+HERMANN AND DOROTHEA (1797)[32]
+
+TRANSLATED BY ELLEN FROTHINGHAM
+
+
+CALLIOPE
+
+FATE AND SYMPATHY
+
+Truly, I never have seen the market and street so deserted!
+How as if it were swept looks the town, or had perished! Not fifty
+Are there, methinks, of all our inhabitants in it remaining.
+
+What will not curiosity do! here is every one running,
+Hurrying to gaze on the sad procession of pitiful exiles.
+Fully a league it must be to the causeway they have to pass over,
+Yet all are hurrying down in the dusty heat of the noonday.
+I, in good sooth, would not stir from my place to witness the sorrows
+Borne by good, fugitive people, who now, with their rescued possessions,
+Driven, alas! from beyond the Rhine, their beautiful country,
+Over to us are coming, and through the prosperous corner
+Roam of this our luxuriant valley, and traverse its windings.
+"Well hast thou done, good wife, our son in thus kindly dispatching,
+Laden with something to eat and to drink, and with store of old linen,
+'Mongst the poor folk to distribute; for giving belongs to the wealthy.
+How the youth drives, to be sure! What control he has over the horses!
+Makes not our carriage a handsome appearance,--the new one? With comfort,
+Four could be seated within, with a place on the box for the coachman.
+This time, he drove by himself. How lightly it rolled round the corner!"
+Thus, as he sat at his ease in the porch of his house on the market,
+Unto his wife was speaking mine host of the Golden Lion.
+
+Thereupon answered and said the prudent, intelligent housewife:
+"Father, I am not inclined to be giving away my old linen:
+Since it serves many a purpose; and cannot be purchased for money,
+When we may want it. To-day, however, I gave, and with pleasure,
+Many a piece that was better, indeed, in shirts and in bed-clothes;
+For I was told of the aged and children who had to go naked.
+But wilt thou pardon me, father? thy wardrobe has also been plundered.
+And, in especial, the wrapper that has the East-Indian flowers,
+Made of the finest of chintz, and lined with delicate flannel,
+Gave I away: it was thin and old, and quite out of the fashion."
+
+Thereupon answered and said, with a smile, the excellent landlord:
+"Faith! I am sorry to lose it, my good old calico wrapper,
+Real East-Indian stuff: I never shall get such another.
+Well, I had given up wearing it: nowadays, custom compels us
+Always to go in surtout, and never appear but in jacket;
+Always to have on our boots; forbidden are night-cap and slippers."
+
+[Illustration: HERMANN'S PARENTS IN THE DOORWAY OF THE TAVERN Ludwig
+Richter]
+
+"See!" interrupted the wife; "even now some are yonder returning,
+Who have beheld the procession: it must, then, already be over.
+Look at the dust on their shoes! and see how their faces are glowing!
+Every one carries his kerchief, and with it is wiping the sweat off.
+Not for a sight like that would I run so far and so suffer,
+Through such a heat; in sooth, enough shall I have in the telling."
+
+Thereupon answered and said, with emphasis, thus, the good father:
+"Rarely does weather like this attend such a harvest as this is.
+We shall be bringing our grain in dry, as the hay was before it.
+Not the least cloud to be seen, so perfectly clear is the heaven;
+And, with delicious coolness, the wind blows in from the eastward.
+That is the weather to last! over-ripe are the cornfields already;
+We shall begin on the morrow to gather our copious harvest."
+
+Constantly, while he thus spoke, the crowds of men and of women
+Grew, who their homeward way were over the market-place wending;
+And, with the rest, there also returned, his daughters beside him,
+Back to his modernized house on the opposite side of the market,
+Foremost merchant of all the town, their opulent neighbor,
+Rapidly driving his open barouche,--it was builded in Landau.
+Lively now grew the streets, for the city was handsomely peopled.
+Many a trade was therein carried on, and large manufactures.
+Under their doorway thus the affectionate couple were sitting,
+Pleasing themselves with many remarks on the wandering people.
+Finally broke in, however, the worthy housewife, exclaiming:
+"Yonder our pastor, see! is hitherward coming, and with him
+Comes our neighbor the doctor, so they shall every thing tell us;
+All they have witnessed abroad, and which 'tis a sorrow to look on."
+
+Cordially then the two men drew nigh, and saluted the couple;
+Sat themselves down on the benches of wood that were placed in the doorway,
+Shaking the dust from their feet, and fanning themselves with
+                                            their kerchiefs.
+Then was the doctor, as soon as exchanged were the mutual greetings,
+First to begin, and said, almost in a tone of vexation:
+"Such is mankind, forsooth! and one man is just like another,
+Liking to gape and to stare when ill-luck has befallen his neighbor.
+Every one hurries to look at the flames, as they soar in destruction;
+Runs to behold the poor culprit, to execution conducted:
+Now all are sallying forth to gaze on the need of these exiles,
+Nor is there one who considers that he, by a similar fortune,
+May, in the future, if not indeed next, be likewise o'ertaken.
+Levity not to be pardoned, I deem; yet it lies in man's nature."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the noble, intelligent pastor;
+Ornament he of the town, still young, in the prime of his manhood.
+
+He was acquainted with life,--with the needs of his hearers acquainted;
+Deeply imbued he was with the Holy Scriptures' importance,
+As they reveal man's destiny to us, and man's disposition;
+Thoroughly versed, besides, in best of secular writings.
+"I should be loath," he replied, "to censure an innocent instinct,
+Which to mankind by good mother Nature has always been given.
+What understanding and reason may sometimes fail to accomplish,
+Oft will such fortunate impulse, that bears us resistlessly with it.
+Did curiosity draw not man with its potent attraction,
+Say, would he ever have learned how harmoniously fitted together
+Worldly experiences are? For first what is novel he covets;
+Then with unwearying industry follows he after the useful;
+Finally longs for the good by which he is raised and ennobled.
+While he is young, such lightness of mind is a joyous companion,
+Traces of pain-giving evil effacing as soon as 'tis over.
+He is indeed to be praised, who, out of this gladness of temper,
+Has in his ripening years a sound understanding developed;
+Who, in good fortune or ill, with zeal and activity labors:
+Such an one bringeth to pass what is good, and repaireth the evil."
+
+Then broke familiarly in the housewife impatient, exclaiming:
+"Tell us of what ye have seen; for that I am longing to hear of!"
+
+"Hardly," with emphasis then the village doctor made answer,
+"Can I find spirits so soon after all the scenes I have witnessed.
+Oh, the manifold miseries! who shall be able to tell them?
+E'en before crossing the meadows, and while we were yet at a distance,
+Saw we the dust; but still from hill to hill the procession
+Passed away out of our sight, and we could distinguish but little.
+But when at last we were come to the street that crosses the valley,
+Great was the crowd and confusion of persons on foot and of wagons.
+There, alas! saw we enough of these poor unfortunates passing,
+And could from some of them learn how bitter the sorrowful flight was,
+Yet how joyful the feeling of life thus hastily rescued.
+Mournful it was to behold the most miscellaneous chattels,--
+All those things which are housed in every well-furnished dwelling,
+All by the house-keeper's care set up in their suitable places,
+Always ready for use; for useful is each and important.--
+Now these things to behold, piled up on all manner of wagons,
+One on the top of another, as hurriedly they had been rescued.
+Over the chest of drawers were the sieve and wool coverlet lying;
+Thrown in the kneading-trough lay the bed, and the sheets on the mirror.
+Danger, alas! as we learned ourselves in our great conflagration
+Twenty years since, will take from a man all power of reflection,
+So that he grasps things worthless and leaves what is precious behind him.
+Here, too, with unconsidering care they were carrying with them
+Pitiful trash, that only encumbered the horses and oxen;
+Such as old barrels and boards, the pen for the goose, and the bird-cage.
+Women and children, too, went toiling along with their bundles,
+Panting 'neath baskets and tubs, full of things of no manner of value:
+So unwilling is man to relinquish his meanest possession.
+Thus on the dusty road the crowded procession moved forward,
+All confused and disordered. The one whose beasts were the weaker,
+Wanted more slowly to drive, while faster would hurry another.
+Presently went up a scream from the closely squeezed women and children,
+And with the yelping of dogs was mingled the lowing of cattle,
+Cries of distress from the aged and sick, who aloft on the wagon,
+Heavy and thus overpacked, upon beds were sitting and swaying.
+Pressed at last from the rut and out to the edge of the highway,
+Slipped the creaking wheel; the cart lost its balance, and over
+Fell in the ditch. In the swing the people were flung to a distance,
+Far off into the field, with horrible screams; by good fortune
+Later the boxes were thrown and fell more near to the wagon.
+Verily all who had witnessed the fall, expected to see them
+Crushed into pieces beneath the weight of trunks and of presses.
+So lay the cart all broken to fragments, and helpless the people.
+Keeping their onward way, the others drove hastily by them,
+Each thinking only of self, and carried away by the current.
+Then we ran to the spot, and found the sick and the aged,--
+Those who at home and in bed could before their lingering ailments
+Scarcely endure,--lying bruised on the ground, complaining and groaning,
+Choked by the billowing dust and scorched by the heat of the noonday."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the kind-hearted landlord, with feeling:
+"Would that our Hermann might meet them and give them refreshment
+                                                   and clothing!
+Loath should I be to behold them: the looking on suffering pains me.
+Touched by the earliest tidings of their so cruel afflictions,
+Hastily sent we a mite from out of our super-abundance,
+Only that some might be strengthened, and we might ourselves be made easy.
+But let us now no longer renew these sorrowful pictures
+Knowing how readily fear steals into the heart of us mortals,
+And anxiety, worse to me than the actual evil.
+Come with me into the room behind, our cool little parlor,
+Where no sunbeam e'er shines, and no sultry breath ever enters
+Through its thickness of wall. There mother will bring us a flagon
+Of our old eighty-three, with which we may banish our fancies.
+Here 'tis not cosey to drink: the flies so buzz round the glasses."
+Thither adjourned they then, and all rejoiced in the coolness.
+
+Carefully brought forth the mother the clear and glorious vintage,
+Cased in a well-polished flask, on a waiter of glittering pewter,
+Set round with large green glasses, the drinking cups meet for the
+                                                     Rhine wine.
+So sat the three together about the highly waxed table,
+Gleaming and round and brown, that on mighty feet was supported.
+Joyously rang at once the glasses of landlord and pastor,
+But his motionless held the third, and sat lost in reflection,
+Until with words of good-humor the landlord challenged him, saying,--
+"Come, sir neighbor, empty your glass, for God in His mercy
+Thus far has kept us from evil, and so in the future will keep us.
+For who acknowledges not, that since our dread conflagration,
+When He so hardly chastised us, He now is continually blessing,
+Constantly shielding, as man the apple of His eye watches over,
+Holding it precious and dear above all the rest of His members?
+Shall He in time to come not defend us and furnish us succor?
+Only when danger is nigh do we see how great is His power.
+Shall He this blooming town which He once by industrious burghers
+Built up afresh from its ashes, and afterward blessed with abundance,
+Now demolish again, and bring all the labor to nothing?"
+
+Cheerfully said in reply the excellent pastor, and kindly:
+"Keep thyself firm in the faith, and firm abide in this temper;
+For it makes steadfast and wise when fortune is fair, and when evil,
+Furnishes sweet consolation and animates hopes the sublimest."
+
+Then made answer the landlord, with thoughts judicious and manly:
+"Often the Rhine's broad stream have I with astonishment greeted,
+As I have neared it again, after travelling abroad upon business.
+Always majestic it seemed, and my mind and spirit exalted.
+But I could never imagine its beautiful banks would so shortly
+Be to a rampart transformed, to keep from our borders the Frenchman,
+And its wide-spreading bed be a moat all passage to hinder.
+See! thus nature protects, the stout-hearted Germans protect us,
+And thus protects us the Lord, who then will be weakly despondent?
+Weary already the combatants, all indications are peaceful.
+Would it might be that when that festival, ardently longed for,
+Shall in our church be observed, when the sacred _Te Deum_ is rising,
+Swelled by the pealing of organ and bells, and the blaring of trumpets,--
+Would it might be that that day should behold my Hermann, sir pastor,
+Standing, his choice now made, with his bride before thee at the altar,
+Making that festal day, that through every land shall be honored,
+My anniversary, too, henceforth of domestic rejoicing!
+But I observe with regret, that the youth so efficient and active
+Ever in household affairs, when abroad is timid and backward.
+Little enjoyment he finds in going about among others;
+Nay, he will even avoid young ladies' society wholly;
+Shuns the enlivening dance which all young persons delight in."
+
+Thus he spoke and listened; for now was heard in the distance
+Clattering of horses' hoofs drawing near, and the roll of the wagon,
+Which, with furious haste, came thundering under the gateway.
+
+
+TERPSICHORE
+
+HERMANN
+
+Now when of comely mien the son came into the chamber,
+Turned with a searching look the eyes of the preacher upon him,
+And, with the gaze of the student, who easily fathoms expression,
+Scrutinized well his face and form and his general bearing.
+Then with a smile he spoke, and said in words of affection:
+"Truly a different being thou comest! I never have seen thee
+Cheerful as now, nor ever beheld I thy glances so beaming.
+Joyous thou comest, and happy: 'tis plain that among the poor people
+Thou hast been sharing thy gifts, and receiving their blessings
+                                                  upon thee."
+
+Quietly then, and with serious words, the son made him answer:
+"If I have acted as ye will commend, I know not; but I followed
+That which my heart bade me do, as I shall exactly relate you.
+Thou wert, mother, so long in rummaging 'mong thy old pieces,
+Picking and choosing, that not until late was thy bundle together;
+Then, too, the wine and the beer took care and time in the packing.
+When I came forth through the gateway at last, and out on the high-road,
+Backward the crowd of citizens streamed with women and children,
+Coming to meet me; for far was already the band of the exiles.
+Quicker I kept on my way, and drove with speed to the village,
+Where they were meaning to rest, as I heard, and tarry till morning.
+Thitherward up the new street as I hasted, a stout-timbered wagon,
+Drawn by two oxen, I saw, of that region the largest and strongest;
+While, with vigorous steps, a maiden was walking beside them,
+And, a long staff in her hand, the two powerful creatures was guiding,
+Urging them now, now holding them back; with skill did she drive them.
+
+[Illustration: HERMANN HANDS TO DOROTHEA THE LINEN FOR THE EMIGRANTS
+Ludwig Richter]
+
+Soon as the maiden perceived me, she calmly drew near to the horses,
+And in these words she addressed me: 'Not thus deplorable always
+Has our condition been, as to-day on this journey thou seest.
+I am not yet grown used to asking gifts of a stranger,
+Which he will often unwillingly give, to be rid of the beggar.
+But necessity drives me to speak; for here, on the straw, lies
+Newly delivered of child, a rich land-owner's wife, whom I scarcely
+Have in her pregnancy, safe brought off with the oxen and wagon.
+Naked, now in her arms the new-born infant is lying,
+And but little the help our friends will be able to furnish,
+If in the neighboring village, indeed, where to-day we would rest us,
+Still we shall find them; though much do I fear they already have
+                                                     passed it.
+Shouldst thou have linen to spare of any description, provided
+Thou of this neighborhood art, to the poor in charity give it.'
+
+"Thus she spoke, and the pale-faced mother raised herself feebly
+Up from the straw, and toward me looked. Then said I in answer
+'Surely unto the good, a spirit from heaven oft speaketh,
+Making them feel the distress that threatens a suffering brother.
+For thou must know that my mother, already presaging thy sorrows,
+Gave me a bundle to use it straightway for the need of the naked.'
+Then I untied the knots of the string, and the wrapper of father's
+Unto her gave, and gave her as well the shirts and the linen.
+And she thanked me with joy, and cried: 'The happy believe not
+Miracles yet can be wrought: for only in need we acknowledge
+God's own hand and finger, that leads the good to show goodness.
+What unto us He has done through thee, may He do to thee also!'
+And I beheld with what pleasure the sick woman handled the linens,
+But with especial delight the dressing-gown's delicate flannel.
+'Let us make haste,' the maid to her said, 'and come to the village,
+Where our people will halt for the night and already are resting.
+There these clothes for the children I, one and all, straightway
+                                                will portion.'
+Then she saluted again, her thanks most warmly expressing,
+Started the oxen; the wagon went on; but there I still lingered,
+Still held the horses in check; for now my heart was divided
+Whether to drive with speed to the village, and there the provisions
+Share 'mong the rest of the people, or whether I here to the maiden
+All should deliver at once, for her discreetly to portion.
+And in an instant my heart had decided, and quietly driving
+After the maiden, I soon overtook her, and said to her quickly:
+'Hearken, good maiden;--my mother packed up not linen-stuffs only
+Into the carriage, that I should have clothes to furnish the naked;
+Wine and beer she added besides, and supply of provisions:
+Plenty of all these things I have in the box of the carriage.
+But now I feel myself moved to deliver these offerings also
+Into thy hand; for so shall I best fulfil my commission.
+Thou wilt divide them with judgment, while I must by chance be directed.'
+Thereupon answered the maiden: 'I will with faithfulness portion
+These thy gifts, that all shall bring comfort to those who are needy.'
+Thus she spoke, and quickly the bog of the carriage I opened,
+Brought forth thence the substantial hams, and brought out the
+                                                 breadstuffs,
+Bottles of wine and beer, and one and all gave to the maiden.
+Willingly would I have given her more, but the carriage was empty.
+All she packed at the sick woman's feet, and went on her journey.
+I, with my horses and carriage, drove rapidly back to the city."
+
+Instantly now, when Hermann had ceased, the talkative neighbor
+Took up the word, and cried: "Oh happy, in days like the present,
+Days of flight and confusion, who lives by himself in his dwelling,
+Having no wife nor child to be clinging about him in terror!
+Happy I feel myself now, and would not for much be called father;
+Would not have wife and children to-day, for whom to be anxious.
+Oft have I thought of this flight before; and have packed up together
+All my best things already, the chains and old pieces of money
+That were my sainted mother's, of which not one has been sold yet.
+Much would be left behind, it is true, not easily gotten.
+Even the roots and the herbs, that were with such industry gathered,
+I should be sorry to lose, though the worth of the goods is but trifling.
+If my purveyor remained, I could go from my dwelling contented.
+When my cash I have brought away safe, and have rescued my person,
+All is safe: none find it so easy to fly as the single."
+
+"Neighbor," unto his words young Hermann with emphasis answered:
+"I can in no wise agree with thee here, and censure thy language.
+Is he indeed a man to be prized, who, in good and in evil,
+Takes no thought but for self, and gladness and sorrow with others
+Knows not how to divide, nor feels his heart so impel him?
+Rather than ever to-day would I make up my mind to be married:
+Many a worthy maiden is needing a husband's protection,
+And the man needs an inspiriting wife when ill is impending."
+
+Thereupon smiling the father replied: "Thus love I to hear thee!
+That is a sensible word such as rarely I've known thee to utter."
+Straightway, however, the mother broke in with quickness, exclaiming:
+"Son, to be sure, thou art right! we parents have set the example;
+Seeing that not in our season of joy did we choose one another;
+Rather the saddest of hours it was that bound us together.
+Monday morning--I mind it well; for the day that preceded
+Came that terrible fire by which our city was ravaged--
+Twenty years will have gone. The day was a Sunday as this is;
+Hot and dry was the season; the water was almost exhausted.
+All the people were strolling abroad in their holiday dresses,
+'Mong the villages partly, and part in the mills and the taverns.
+And at the end of the city the flames began, and went coursing
+Quickly along the streets, creating a draught in their passage.
+Burned were the barns where the copious harvest already was garnered;
+Burned were the streets as far as the market; the house of my father,
+Neighbor to this, was destroyed, and this one also fell with it.
+Little we managed to save. I sat, that sorrowful night through,
+Outside the town on the common, to guard the beds and the boxes.
+Sleep overtook me at last, and when I again was awakened,
+Feeling the chill of the morning that always descends before sunrise,
+There were the smoke and the glare, and the walls and chimneys in ruins.
+Then fell a weight on my heart; but more majestic than ever
+Came up the sun again, inspiring my bosom with courage.
+Then I rose hastily up, with a yearning the place to revisit
+Whereon our dwelling had stood, and to see if the hens had been rescued,
+Which I especially loved, for I still was a child in my feelings.
+Thus as I over the still-smoking timbers of house and of court-yard
+Picked my way, and beheld the dwelling so ruined and wasted,
+Thou camest up to examine the place, from the other direction.
+Under the ruins thy horse in his stall had been buried; the rubbish
+Lay on the spot and the glimmering beams; of the horse we saw nothing.
+Thoughtful and grieving we stood there thus, each facing the other,
+Now that the wall was fallen that once had divided our court-yards.
+Thereupon thou by the hand didst take me, and speak to me, saying,--
+'Lisa, how camest thou hither? Go back! thy soles must be burning;
+Hot the rubbish is here: it scorches my boots, which are stronger.'
+And thou didst lift me up, and carry me out through thy court-yard.
+There was the door of the house left standing yet with its archway,
+Just as 'tis standing now, the one thing only remaining.
+Then thou didst set me down and kiss me; to that I objected;
+But thou didst answer and say with kindly significant language:
+'See! my house lies in ruins: remain here and help me rebuild it;
+So shall my help in return be given to building thy father's.'
+Yet did I not comprehend thee until thou sentest thy mother
+Unto my father, and quick were the happy espousals accomplished.
+E'en to this day I remember with joy those half-consumed timbers,
+And I can see once more the sun coming up in such splendor;
+For 'twas the day that gave me my husband; and, ere the first season
+Passed of that wild desolation, a son to my youth had been given.
+Therefore I praise thee, Hermann, that thou, with an honest assurance,
+Shouldst, in these sorrowful days, be thinking thyself of a maiden,
+And amid ruins and war shouldst thus have the courage to woo her."
+
+Straightway, then, and with warmth, the father replied to her, saying:
+"Worthy of praise is the feeling, and truthful also the story,
+Mother, that thou hast related; for so indeed every thing happened.
+Better, however, is better. It is not the business of all men
+Thus their life and estate to begin from the very foundation:
+Every one needs not to worry himself as we and the rest did.
+Oh, how happy is he whose father and mother shall give him,
+Furnished and ready, a house which he can adorn with his increase.
+Every beginning is hard; but most the beginning a household.
+Many are human wants, and every thing daily grows dearer,
+So that a man must consider the means of increasing his earnings.
+This I hope therefore of thee, my Hermann, that into our dwelling
+Thou wilt be bringing ere long a bride who is handsomely dowered;
+For it is meet that a gallant young man have an opulent maiden.
+Great is the comfort of home whene'er, with the woman elected,
+Enter the useful presents, besides, in box and in basket.
+Not for this many a year in vain has the mother been busy
+Making her daughter's linens of strong and delicate texture;
+God-parents have not in vain been giving their vessels of silver,
+And the father laid by in his desk the rare pieces of money;
+For there a day will come when she, with her gifts and possessions,
+Shall that youth rejoice who has chosen her out of all others.
+Well do I know how good in a house is a woman's position,
+Who her own furniture round her knows, in kitchen and chamber;
+Who herself the bed and herself the table has covered.
+Only a well-dowered bride should I like to receive to my dwelling.
+She who is poor is sure, in the end, to be scorned by her husband;
+And will as servant be held, who as servant came in with her bundle.
+Men will remain unjust when the season of love is gone over.
+Yes, my Hermann, thy father's old age thou greatly canst gladden,
+If thou a daughter-in-law will speedily bring to my dwelling,
+Out of the neighborhood here,--from the house over yonder, the green one.
+Rich is the man, I can tell thee. His manufactures and traffic
+Daily are making him richer; for whence draws the merchant not profit?
+Three daughters only he has, to divide his fortune among them.
+True that the eldest already is taken; but there is the second
+Still to be had, as well as the third; and not long so, it may be.
+I would never have lingered till now, had I been in thy place;
+But had fetched one of the maidens, as once I bore off thy dear mother."
+
+Modestly then did the son to the urgent father make answer:
+"Truly 'twas my wish too, as well as thine own, to have chosen
+One of our neighbor's daughters, for we had been brought up together;
+Played, in the early days, about the market-place fountain;
+And, from the other boys' rudeness, I often have been their defender.
+That, though, is long since past: the girls, as they grew to be older,
+Properly stayed in the house, and shunned the more boisterous pastimes.
+Well brought up are they, surely! I used sometimes to go over,
+Partly to gratify thee, and because of our former acquaintance:
+But no pleasure I ever could take in being among them;
+For I was always obliged to endure their censures upon me.
+Quite too long was my coat, the cloth too coarse, and the color
+Quite too common; my hair was not cropped, as it should be, and frizzled.
+I was resolved, at last, that I, also, would dress myself finely,
+Just as those office-boys do who always are seen there on Sundays,
+Wearing in summer their half-silken flaps, that dangle about them;
+But I discovered, betimes, they made ever a laughing-stock of me.
+And I was vexed when I saw it,--it wounded my pride; but more deeply
+Felt I aggrieved that they the good-will should so far misinterpret
+That in my heart I bore them,--especially Minna the youngest.
+It was on Easter-day that last I went over to see them;
+Wearing my best new coat, that is now hanging up in the closet,
+And having frizzled my hair, like that of the other young fellows.
+Soon as I entered, they tittered; but that not at me, as I fancied.
+Minna before the piano was seated; the father was present,
+Hearing his daughters sing, and full of delight and good-humor.
+Much I could not understand of all that was said in the singing;
+But of Pamina I often heard, and oft of Tamino:
+And I, besides, could not stay there dumb; so, as soon as she ended,
+Something about the words I asked, and about the two persons.
+Thereupon all were silent and smiled; but the father made answer:
+'Thou knowest no one, my friend, I believe, but Adam and Eve?'
+No one restrained himself longer, but loud laughed out then the maidens,
+Loud laughed out the boys, the old man held his sides for his laughing.
+I, in embarrassment, dropped my hat, and the giggling continued,
+On and on and on, for all they kept playing and singing.
+Back to the house here I hurried, o'ercome with shame and vexation,
+Hung up my coat in the closet, and pulled out the curls with my fingers,
+Swearing that never again my foot should cross over that threshold.
+And I was perfectly right; for vain are the maidens, and heartless.
+E'en to this day, as I hear, I am called by them ever 'Tamino.'"
+
+Thereupon answered the mother, and said: "Thou shouldest not, Hermann,
+Be so long vexed with the children: indeed, they are all of them children.
+Minna, believe me, is good, and was always disposed to thee kindly.
+'Twas not long since she was asking about thee. Let her be thy chosen!"
+
+Thoughtfully answered the son: "I know not. That mortification
+Stamped itself in me so deeply, I never could bear to behold her
+Seated before the piano or listen again to her singing."
+
+Forth broke the father then, and in words of anger made answer:
+"Little of joy will my life have in thee! I said it would be so
+When I perceived that thy pleasure was solely in horses and farming:
+Work which a servant, indeed, performs for an opulent master,
+That thou doest; the father meanwhile must his son be deprived of,
+Who should appear as his pride, in the sight of the rest of the townsmen.
+Early with empty hopes thy mother was wont to deceive me,
+When in the school thy studies, thy reading and writing, would never
+As with the others succeed, but thy seat would be always the lowest.
+That comes about, forsooth, when a youth has no feeling of honor
+Dwelling within his breast, nor the wish to raise himself higher.
+Had but my father so cared for me as thou hast been cared for;
+If he had sent me to school, and provided me thus with instructors,
+I should be other, I trow, than host of the Golden Lion!"
+
+Then the son rose from his seat and noiselessly moved to the doorway,
+Slowly, and speaking no word. The father, however, in passion
+After him called, "Yes, go, thou obstinate fellow! I know thee!
+Go and look after the business henceforth, that I have not to chide thee;
+But do thou nowise imagine that ever a peasant-born maiden
+Thou for a daughter-in-law shalt bring into my dwelling, the hussy!
+Long have I lived in the world, and know how mankind should be dealt with;
+Know how to entertain ladies and gentlemen so that contented
+They shall depart from my house, and strangers agreeably can flatter.
+Yet I'm resolved that some day I one will have for a daughter,
+Who shall requite me in kind and sweeten my manifold labors;
+Who the piano shall play to me, too; so that there shall with pleasure
+All the handsomest people in town and the finest assemble,
+As they on Sundays do now in the house of our neighbor." Here Hermann
+Softly pressed on the latch, and so went out from the chamber.
+
+
+THALIA
+
+THE CITIZENS
+
+Thus did the modest son slip away from the angry up-braiding;
+But in the tone he had taken at first, the father continued:
+"That comes not out of a man which he has not in him; and hardly
+Shall the joy ever be mine of seeing my dearest wish granted:
+That my son may not as his father be, but a better.
+What would become of the house, and what of the city if each one
+Were not with pleasure and always intent on maintaining, renewing,
+Yea, and improving, too, as time and the foreigner teach us!
+Man is not meant, forsooth, to grow from the ground like a mushroom,
+Quickly to perish away on the spot of ground that begot him,
+Leaving no trace behind of himself and his animate action!
+As by the house we straightway can tell the mind of the master,
+So, when we walk through a city, we judge of the persons who rule it.
+For where the towers and walls are falling to ruin; where offal
+Lies in heaps in the gutters, and alleys with offal are littered;
+Where from its place has started the stone, and no one resets it;
+Where the timbers are rotting away, and the house is awaiting
+Vainly its new supports,--that place we may know is ill governed.
+Since if not from above work order and cleanliness downward,
+Easily grows the citizen used to untidy postponement;
+Just as the beggar grows likewise used to his ragged apparel.
+Therefore I wished that our Hermann might early set out on some travels;
+That he at least might behold the cities of Strasburg and Frankfort,
+Friendly Mannheim, too, that is cheerful and evenly builded.
+He that has once beheld cities so cleanly and large, never after
+Ceases his own native city, though small it may be, to embellish.
+Do not the strangers who come here commend the repairs in our gateway,
+Notice our whitewashed tower, and the church we have newly rebuilded?
+Are not all praising our pavement? the covered canals full of water,
+Laid with a wise distribution, which furnish us profit and safety,
+So that no sooner does fire break out than 'tis promptly arrested?
+Has not all this come to pass since the time of our great conflagration?
+Builder I six times was named by the council, and won the approval,
+Won moreover the heartfelt thanks of all the good burghers,
+Actively carrying out what I planned, and also fulfilling
+What had by upright men been designed, and left uncompleted.
+Finally grew the same zeal in every one of the council;
+All now labor together, and firmly decided already
+Stands it to build the new causeway that shall with the high-road
+                                                     connect us.
+But I am sorely afraid that will not be the way with our children.
+Some think only of pleasure and perishable apparel;
+Others will cower at home, and behind the stove will sit brooding.
+One of this kind, as I fear, we shall find to the last in our Hermann."
+
+Straightway answered and said the good and intelligent mother:
+"Why wilt thou always, father, be doing our son such injustice?
+That least of all is the way to bring thy wish to fulfilment.
+We have no power to fashion our children as suiteth our fancy;
+As they are given by God, we so must have them and love them;
+Teach them as best we can, and let each of them follow his nature.
+One will have talents of one sort, and different talents another.
+Every one uses his own; in his own individual fashion,
+Each must be happy and good. I will not have my Hermann found fault with;
+For he is worthy, I know, of the goods he shall one day inherit;
+Will be an excellent landlord, a pattern to burghers and builders;
+Neither in council, as I can foresee, will he be the most backward.
+But thou keepest shut up in his breast all the poor fellow's spirit,
+Finding such fault with him daily, and censuring as thou but now hast."
+And on the instant she quitted the room, and after him hurried,
+Hoping she somewhere might find him, and might with her words of affection
+Cheer him again, her excellent son, for well he deserved it.
+
+Thereupon when she was gone, the father thus smiling continued:
+"What a strange folk, to be sure, are these women; and just like
+                                                 the children;
+Both of them bent upon living according as suiteth their pleasure,
+While we others must never do aught but flatter and praise them.
+Once for all time holds good the ancients' trustworthy proverb:
+'Whoever goes not forward comes backward.' So must it be always."
+Thereupon answered and said, in a tone of reflection, the doctor:
+"That, sir neighbor, I willingly grant; for myself I am always
+Casting about for improvement,--things new, so they be not too costly.
+
+[Illustration: THE MOTHER DEFENDING HERMANN Ludwig Richter]
+
+But what profits a man, who has not abundance of money,
+Being thus active and stirring, and bettering inside and outside?
+Only too much is the citizen cramped: the good, though he know it,
+Has he no means to acquire because too slender his purse is,
+While his needs are too great; and thus is he constantly hampered.
+Many things I had done; but then the cost of such changes
+Who does not fear, especially now in this season of danger?
+Long since my house was smiling upon me in modish apparel!
+Long since great panes of glass were gleaming in all of the windows!
+But who can do as the merchant does, who, with his resources,
+Knows the methods as well by which the best is arrived at?
+Look at that house over yonder,--the new one; behold with what splendor
+'Gainst the background of green stand out the white spirals of stucco!
+Great are the panes in the windows; and how the glass sparkles
+                                                and glitters,
+Casting quite into the shade the rest of the market-place houses!
+Yet just after the fire were our two houses the finest,
+This of the Golden Lion, and mine of the sign of the Angel.
+So was my garden, too, throughout the whole neighborhood famous:
+Every traveller stopped and gazed through the red palisadoes,
+Caught by the beggars there carved in stone and the dwarfs of
+                                             bright colors.
+Then whosoever had coffee served in the beautiful grotto,--
+Standing there now all covered with dust and partly in ruins,--
+Used to be mightily pleased with the glimmering light of the mussels
+Spread out in beautiful order; and even the eye of the critic
+Used by the sight of my corals and potter's ore to be dazzled.
+So in my parlor, too, they would always admire the painting,
+Where in a garden are gaily dressed ladies and gentlemen walking,
+And with their taper fingers are plucking and holding the flowers.
+But who would look at it now! In sooth, so great my vexation
+Scarcely I venture abroad. All now must be other and tasteful,
+So they call it; and white are the laths and benches of woodwork;
+Everything simple and smooth; no carving longer or gilding
+Can be endured, and the woods from abroad are of all the most costly.
+Well, I, too, should be glad could I get for myself something novel;
+Glad to keep up with the times, and be changing my furniture often;
+Yet must we all be afraid of touching the veriest trifle.
+For who among us has means for paying the work-people's wages?
+Lately I had an idea of giving the Archangel Michael,
+Making the sign of my shop, another fresh coating of gilding,
+And to the terrible dragon about his feet that is winding;
+But I e'en let him stay browned as he is: I dreaded the charges."
+
+
+EUTERPE
+
+MOTHER AND SON
+
+Thus entertaining themselves, the men sat talking. The mother
+Went meanwhile to look for her son in front of the dwelling,
+First on the settle of stone, whereon 'twas his wont to be seated.
+When she perceived him not there, she went farther to look in the stable,
+If he were caring perhaps for his noble horses, the stallions,
+Which he as colts had bought, and whose care he intrusted to no one.
+And by the servant she there was told: He is gone to the garden.
+Then with a nimble step she traversed the long, double court-yards,
+Leaving the stables behind, and the well-builded barns, too, behind her;
+Entered the garden, that far as the walls of the city extended;
+Walked through its length, rejoiced as she went in every thing growing;
+Set upright the supports on which were resting the branches
+Heavily laden with apples, and burdening boughs of the pear-tree.
+Next some caterpillars removed from a stout, swelling cabbage;
+For an industrious woman allows no step to be wasted.
+Thus was she come at last to the end of the far-reaching garden,
+Where stood the arbor embowered in woodbine; nor there did she find him,
+More than she had hitherto in all her search through the garden.
+But the wicket was standing ajar, which out of the arbor,
+Once by particular favor, had been through the walls of the city
+Cut by a grandsire of hers, the worshipful burgomaster.
+So the now dried-up moat she next crossed over with comfort,
+Where, by the side of the road, direct the well-fenced vine-yard,
+Rose with a steep ascent, its slope exposed to the sunshine.
+Up this also she went, and with pleasure as she was ascending
+Marked the wealth of the clusters, that scarce by their leafage
+                                                  were hidden.
+Shady and covered the way through the lofty middlemost alley,
+Which upon steps that were made of unhewn blocks you ascended.
+There were the Muscatel, and there were the Chasselas hanging
+Side by side, of unusual size and colored with purple,
+All set out with the purpose of decking the visitor's table;
+While with single vine-stocks the rest of the hillside was covered,
+Bearing inferior clusters, from which the delicate wine comes.
+Thus up the slopes she went, enjoying already the vintage,
+And that festive day on which the whole country, rejoicing,
+Picks and tramples the grapes, and gathers the must into vessels:
+Fireworks, when it is evening, from every direction and corner
+Crackle and blaze, and so the fairest of harvests is honored.
+But more uneasy she went, her son after twice or thrice calling,
+And no answer receiving, except from the talkative echo,
+That with many repeats rang back from the towers of the city.
+Strange it was for her to seek him; he never had gone to a distance
+That he told her not first, to spare his affectionate mother
+Every anxious thought, and fear that aught ill had befallen.
+Still did she constantly hope that, if further she went, she should
+                                                         find him;
+For the two doors of the vineyard, the lower as well as the upper,
+Both were alike standing open. So now she entered the corn-field,
+That with its broad expanse the ridge of the hill covered over.
+Still was the ground that she walked on her own; and the crops she
+                                                  rejoiced in,--
+All of them still were hers, and hers was the proud-waving grain, too,
+Over the whole broad field in golden strength that was stirring.
+Keeping the ridgeway, the footpath, between the fields she went onward,
+Having the lofty pear-tree in view, which stood on the summit,
+And was the boundary-mark of the fields that belonged to her dwelling.
+Who might have planted it, none could know, but visible was it
+Far and wide through the country; the fruit of the pear-tree was famous.
+'Neath it the reapers were wont to enjoy their meal at the noon-day,
+And the shepherds were used to tend their flocks in its shadow.
+Benches of unhewn stones and of turf they found set about it.
+And she had not been mistaken, for there sat her Hermann, and rested,--
+Sat with his head on his hand, and seemed to be viewing the landscape
+That to the mountains lay: his back was turned to his mother.
+Toward him softly she crept, and lightly touched on the shoulder;
+Quick he turned himself round; there were tears in his eyes as he met her.
+
+"Mother, how hast thou surprised me!" he said in confusion; and quickly
+Wiped the high-spirited youth his tears away. But the mother,
+"What! do I find thee weeping, my son?" exclaimed in amazement.
+"Nay, that is not like thyself: I never before have so seen thee!
+Tell me, what burdens thy heart? what drives thee here, to be sitting
+Under the pear-tree alone? These tears in thine eyes, what has
+                                              brought them?"
+
+Then, collecting himself, the excellent youth made her answer:
+"Truly no heart can that man have in his bosom of iron,
+Who is insensible now to the needs of this emigrant people;
+He has no brains in his head, who not for his personal safety,
+Not for his fatherland's weal, in days like the present is anxious.
+Deeply my heart had been touched by the sights and sounds of the morning;
+Then I went forth and beheld the broad and glorious landscape
+Spreading its fertile slopes in every direction about us,
+Saw the golden grain inclining itself to the reapers,
+And the promise of well-filled barns from the plentiful harvest.
+
+[Illustration:  MOTHER AND SON Ludwig Richter]
+
+But, alas, how near is the foe! The Rhine with its waters
+Guards us, indeed; but, ah, what now are rivers and mountains
+'Gainst that terrible people that onward bears like a tempest!
+For they summon their youths from every quarter together,
+Call up their old men too, and press with violence forward.
+Death cannot frighten the crowd: one multitude follows another.
+And shall a German dare to linger behind in his homestead?
+Hopes he perhaps to escape the everywhere threatened evil?
+Nay, dear mother, I tell thee, today has made me regretful
+That I was lately exempt, when out of our townsmen were chosen
+Those who should serve in the army. An only son I am truly,
+Also our business is great, and the charge of our household is weighty.
+Yet were it better, I deem, in the front to offer resistance
+There on the border, than here to await disaster and bondage.
+So has my spirit declared, and deep in my innermost bosom
+Courage and longing have now been aroused to live for my country,
+Yea, and to die, presenting to others a worthy example.
+If but the strength of Germany's youth were banded together
+There on the frontier, resolved that it never would yield to the stranger,
+Ah, he should not on our glorious soil be setting his footsteps,
+Neither consuming before our eyes the fruit of our labor,
+Ruling our men, and making his prey of our wives and our daughters.
+Hark to me, mother: for I in the depths of my heart am determined
+Quickly to do, and at once, what appears to me right and in reason;
+For he chooses not always the best who longest considers.
+Hearken, I shall not again return to the house; but directly
+Go from this spot to the city, and there present to the soldiers
+This right arm and this heart, to be spent in the fatherland's service.
+Then let my father say if there be no feeling of honor
+Dwelling within my breast, nor a wish to raise myself higher."
+
+Then with significant words spoke the good and intelligent mother,
+While from her eyes the quick-starting tears were silently falling:
+"Son, what change has come o'er thee today, and over thy temper,
+That thou speakest no more, as thou yesterday didst, and hast always,
+Open and free, to thy mother, and tellest exactly thy wishes?
+Any one else, had he heard thee thus speak, would in sooth have commended,
+And this decision of thine would have highly approved as most noble,
+Being misled by thy tone and by thy significant language.
+Yet have I nothing but censure to speak; for better I know thee.
+Thou concealest thy heart, and thy thoughts are not such as thou tellest.
+Well do I know that it is not the drum, not the trumpet that calls thee:
+Neither in uniform wouldst thou figure in sight of the maidens;
+Since, for all thou art honest and brave, it is thy vocation
+Here in quiet to care for the farm and provide for the household.
+Tell me honestly, therefore, what goads thee to such a decision?"
+
+ Earnestly answered the son: "Nay, thou art mistaken, dear mother:
+One day is not like another. The youth matures into manhood:
+Better in stillness oft ripening to deeds than when in the tumult
+Wildering and wild of existence, that many a youth has corrupted.
+And, for as still as I am and was always, there yet in my bosom
+Has such a heart been shaped as abhors all wrong and injustice;
+And I have learned aright between worldly things to distinguish.
+Arm and foot, besides, have been mightily strengthened by labor.
+All this, I feel, is true: I dare with boldness maintain it.
+Yet dost thou blame me with reason, O mother! for thou hast surprised me
+Using a language half truthful and half that of dissimulation.
+For, let me honestly own,--it is not the near danger that calls me
+Forth from my father's house; nor is it the lofty ambition
+Helpful to be to my country, and terrible unto the foeman.
+They were but words that I spoke: they only were meant for concealing
+Those emotions from thee with which my heart is distracted;
+And so leave me, O mother! for, since the wishes are fruitless
+Which in my bosom I cherish, my life must go fruitlessly over.
+For, as I know, he injures himself who is singly devoted,
+When for the common cause the whole are not working together."
+
+ "Hesitate not," replied thereupon the intelligent mother,
+"Every thing to relate me, the smallest as well as the greatest.
+Men will always be hasty, their thoughts to extremes ever running:
+Easily out of their course the hasty are turned by a hindrance.
+Whereas a woman is clever in thinking of means, and will venture
+E'en on a roundabout way, adroitly to compass her object.
+Let me know every thing, then; say wherefore so greatly excited
+As I ne'er saw thee before, why thy blood is coursing so hotly,
+Wherefore, against thy will, tears are filling thine eyes to o'erflowing."
+
+Then he abandoned himself, the poor boy, to his sorrow, and weeping,
+Weeping aloud on his kind mother's breast, he brokenly answered:
+"Truly my father's words today have wounded me sorely,--
+Words which I have not deserved; not today, nor at any time have I:
+For it was early my greatest delight to honor my parents.
+No one knew more, so I deemed, or was wiser than those who begot me,
+And had with strictness ruled throughout the dark season of childhood.
+Many the things, in truth, I with patience endured from my playmates,
+When the good-will that I bore them they often requited with malice.
+Often I suffered their flings and their blows to pass unresented;
+But if they ventured to ridicule father, when he of a Sunday
+Home from Church would come, with his solemn and dignified bearing;
+If they made fun of his cap-string, or laughed at the flowers of
+                                                   the wrapper
+He with such stateliness wore, which was given away but this morning--
+Threateningly doubled my fist in an instant; with furious passion
+Fell I upon them, and struck out and hit, assailing them blindly,
+Seeing not where. They howled as the blood gushed out from their noses:
+Scarcely they made their escape from my passionate kicking and beating.
+Then, as I older grew, I had much to endure from my father;
+Violent words he oft vented on me, instead of on others,
+When, at the board's last session, the council had roused his displeasure,
+And I was made to atone for the quarrels and wiles of his colleagues.
+Thou has pitied me often thyself; for much did I suffer,
+Ever remembering with cordial respect the kindness of parents,
+Solely intent on increasing for us their goods and possessions,
+Much denying themselves in order to save for their children.
+But, alas! saving alone, for the sake of a tardy enjoyment,--
+That is not happiness: pile upon pile, and acre on acre,
+Make us not happy, no matter how fair our estates may be rounded.
+For the father grows old, and with him will grow old the children,
+Losing the joy of the day, and bearing the care of tomorrow.
+Look thou below, and see how before us in glory are lying,
+Fair and abundant, the corn-fields; beneath them, the vineyard and garden;
+Yonder the stables and barns; our beautiful line of possessions.
+But when I look at the dwelling behind, where up in the gable
+We can distinguish the window that marks my room in the attic;
+When I look back, and remember how many a night from that window
+I for the moon have watched; for the sun, how many a morning!
+When the healthful sleep of a few short hours sufficed me,--
+Ah, so lonely they seem to me then, the chamber and courtyard,
+Garden and glorious field, away o'er the hill that is stretching;
+All so desert before me lie: 'tis the wife that is wanting."
+
+Thereupon spoke the good mother, and thus with intelligence answered:
+"Son, not greater thy wish to bring thee a bride to thy chamber,
+That thou mayst find thy nights a beautiful part of existence,
+And that the work of the day may gain independence and freedom,
+Than is thy father's wish too, and thy mother's. We always have
+                                                 counselled,--
+Yea, we have even insisted,--that thou shouldst elect thee a maiden.
+But I was ever aware, and now my heart gives me assurance,
+That till the hour appointed is come, and the maiden appointed
+Shall with the hour appear, the choice will be left for the future,
+While more strong than all else will be fear of grasping the wrong one.
+If I may say it, my son, I believe thou already hast chosen;
+For thy heart has been touched, and been made more than wontedly tender.
+Speak it out honestly, then; for my soul has told me before-hand:
+That same maiden it is, the exile, whom thou hast elected."
+
+"Thou hast said, mother!" the son thereupon with eagerness answered.
+"Yes, it is she; and if I today as my bride do not bring her
+Home to our dwelling, she from me will go, perhaps vanish for ever,
+Lost in the war's confusion and sad movings hither and thither.
+Mother, forever in vain would then our abundant possessions
+Prosper before me, and seasons to come be in vain to me fruitful.
+Yea, I should hold in aversion the wonted house and the garden:
+Even my mother's love, alas! would not comfort my sorrow.
+Every tie, so I feel in my heart, by love is unloosened
+Soon as she fastens her own; and not the maid is it only
+Leaves behind father and mother, to follow the man she has chosen.
+He too, the youth, no longer knows aught of mother and father,
+When he the maiden, his only beloved, sees vanishing from him.
+Suffer me, then, to go hence wherever despair shall impel me:
+Since by my father himself the decisive words have been spoken;
+Since his house can no longer be mine if he shut out the maiden,
+Her whom alone as my bride I desire to bring to our dwelling."
+
+Thereupon quickly made answer the good and intelligent mother:
+"How like to rocks, forsooth, two men will stand facing each other!
+Proud and not to be moved, will neither draw near to his fellow;
+Neither will stir his tongue to utter the first word of kindness.
+Therefore I tell thee, my son, a hope yet lives in my bosom,
+So she be honest and good, thy father will let thee espouse her,
+Even though poor, and against a poor girl so decisive his sentence.
+Many a thing he is wont to speak out in his violent fashion
+Which he yet never performs; and so what he denies will consent to.
+Yet he requires a kindly word, and is right to require it:
+He is the father! Besides, we know that his wrath after dinner,--
+When he most hastily speaks, and questions all others' opinions,--
+Signifies naught; the full force of his violent will is excited
+Then by the wine, which lets him not heed the language of others;
+None but himself does he see and feel. But now is come evening,
+Talk upon various subjects has passed between him and his neighbors.
+Gentle, he is; I am sure, now his little excitement is over,
+And he can feel how unjust his passion has made him to others.
+Come, let us venture at once: success is alone to the valiant!
+Further we need the friends, still sitting together there with him;
+And in especial the worthy pastor will give us assistance."
+
+Thus she hastily spoke, and up from the stone then arising,
+Drew from his seat her son, who willingly followed. In silence
+Both descended the hill, their important purpose revolving.
+
+
+POLYHYMNIA
+
+THE CITIZEN OF THE WORLD
+
+There the three men, however, still sat conversing together,
+With mine host of the Lion, the village doctor, and pastor;
+And their talk was still on the same unvarying subject,
+Turning it this way and that, and viewing from every direction.
+But with his sober judgment the excellent pastor made answer:
+"Here will I not contradict you. I know that man should be always
+Striving for that which is better; indeed, as we see, he is reaching
+Always after the higher, at least some novelty craving.
+But be careful ye go not too far, for with this disposition
+Nature has given us pleasure in holding to what is familiar;
+Taught us in that to delight to which we have long been accustomed.
+Every condition is good that is founded on reason and nature.
+Many are man's desires, yet little it is that he needeth;
+Seeing the days are short and mortal destiny bounded.
+Ne'er would I censure the man whom a restless activity urges,
+Bold and industrious, over all pathways of land and of ocean,
+Ever untiring to roam; who takes delight in the riches,
+Heaping in generous abundance about himself and his children.
+Yet not unprized by me is the quiet citizen also,
+Making the noiseless round of his own inherited acres,
+Tilling the ground as the ever-returning seasons command him.
+Not with every year is the soil transfigured about him;
+Not in haste does the tree stretch forth, as soon as 'tis planted,
+Full-grown arms toward heaven and decked with plenteous blossoms.
+No: man has need of patience, and needful to him are also
+Calmness and clearness of mind, and a pure and right understanding.
+Few are the seeds he intrusts to earth's all-nourishing bosom;
+Few are the creatures he knows how to raise and bring to perfection.
+Centred are all his thoughts alone on that which is useful.
+Happy to whom by nature a mind of such temper is given,
+For he supports us all! And hail, to the man whose abode is
+Where in a town the country pursuits with the city are blended.
+On him lies not the pressure that painfully hampers the farmer,
+Nor is he carried away by the greedy ambition of cities;
+Where they of scanty possessions too often are given to aping,
+Wives and daughters especially, those who are higher and richer.
+Blessed be therefore thy son in his life of quiet employment;
+Blessed the wife, of like mind with himself, whom he one day shall
+                                                     choose him."
+
+Thus he spoke; and scarce had he ended when entered the mother,
+Holding her son by the hand, and so led him up to her husband.
+"Father," she said, "how oft when we two have been chatting together,
+Have we rejoiced in the thought of Hermann's future espousal,
+When he should bring his bride to be the light of our dwelling!
+Over and over again the matter we pondered: this maiden
+Fixing upon for him first, and then that, with the gossip of parents.
+But that day is now come; and Heaven at last has the maiden
+Brought to him hither, and shown him; and now his heart has decided.
+Said we not always then he should have his own choice in the matter?
+Was it not just now thy wish that he might with lively affection
+Feel himself drawn to some maiden? The hour is come that we hoped for.
+Yes; he has felt and has chosen and come to a manly decision.
+That same maiden it is that met him this morning, the stranger:
+Say he may have her, or else, as he swears, his life shall be single."
+
+"Give her me, father," so added the son: "my heart has elected
+Clear and sure; she will be to you both the noblest of daughters."
+
+But the father was silent. Then hastily rose the good pastor,
+Took up the word and said: "The moment alone is decisive;
+Fixes the life of man, and his future destiny settles.
+After long taking of counsel, yet only the work of a moment
+Every decision must be; and the wise alone seizes the right one.
+Dangerous always it is comparing the one with the other
+When we are making our choice, and so confusing our feelings.
+Hermann is pure. From childhood up I have known him, and never
+E'en as a boy was he wont to be reaching for this and the other:
+What he desired was best for him too, and he held to it firmly.
+Be not surprised and alarmed that now has appeared of a sudden,
+What thou hast wished for so long. It is true that the present appearance
+Bears not the form of the wish, exactly as thou hadst conceived it:
+For our wishes oft hide from ourselves the object we wish for;
+Gifts come down from above in the shapes appointed by Heaven.
+Therefore misjudge not the maiden who now of thy dearly beloved,
+Good and intelligent son has been first to touch the affections:
+Happy to whom at once his first love's hand shall be given,
+And in whose heart no tenderest wish must secretly languish.
+Yes: his whole bearing assures me that now his fate is decided.
+Genuine love matures in a moment the youth into manhood;
+He is not easily moved; and I fear that if this be refused him,
+Sadly his years will go by, those years that should be the fairest."
+
+Straightway then in a thoughtful tone the doctor made answer,
+On whose tongue for a long time past the words had been trembling:
+"Pray let us here as before pursue the safe middle course only.
+Make haste slowly: that was Augustus the emperor's motto.
+Willingly I myself place at my well-beloved neighbor's disposal,
+Ready to do him what service I can with my poor understanding.
+Youth most especially stands in need of some one to guide it.
+Let me therefore go forth that I may examine the maiden,
+And may question the people among whom she lives and who know her.
+Me 'tis not easy to cheat: I know how words should be valued."
+
+Straightway the son broke in, and with wingèd words made he answer:
+"Do so, neighbor, and go and make thine inquiries; but with thee
+I should be glad if our minister here were joined in the errand:
+Two such excellent men would be irreproachable judges.
+O my father! believe me, she's none of those wandering maidens,
+Not one of those who stroll through the land in search of adventure,
+And who seek to ensnare inexperienced youth in their meshes.
+No: the hard fortunes of war, that universal destroyer,
+Which is convulsing the earth and has hurled from its deep foundations
+Many a structure already, have sent the poor girl into exile.
+Are not now men of high birth, the most noble, in misery roaming?
+Princes fly in disguise and kings are in banishment living.
+So alas! also is she, the best among all of her sisters,
+Driven an exile from home; yet, her personal sorrows forgetting,
+She is devoted to others; herself without help, she is helpful.
+Great is the want and the suffering over the earth that are spreading:
+Shall not some happiness, too, be begotten of all this affliction,
+And shall not I in the arms of my wife, my trusted companion,
+Look back with joy to the war, as do ye to the great conflagration?"
+
+Outspoke the father then in a tone of decision, and answered:
+"Strangely thy tongue has been loosened, my son, which many a year past
+Seemed to have stuck in thy mouth, and only to move on compulsion!
+I must experience to-day, it would seem, what threatens all fathers,
+That the son's headstrong will the mother with readiness favors,
+Showing too easy indulgence; and every neighbor sides with them
+When there is aught to be carried against the father and husband.
+But I will not oppose you, thus banded together: how could I?
+For I already perceive here tears and defiance before-hand.
+Go ye therefore, inquire, in God's name, bring me the daughter.
+But if not so, then the boy is to think no more of the maiden."
+
+Thus the father. The son cried out with joyful demeanor,
+"Ere it is evening the noblest of daughters shall hither be brought you,
+Such as no man with sound sense in his breast can fail to be pleased with.
+Happy, I venture to hope, will be also the excellent maiden.
+Yes; she will ever be grateful for having had father and mother
+Given once more in you, and such as a child most delights in.
+Now I will tarry no longer, but straightway harness the horses,
+Drive forth our friends at once on the footsteps of my beloved,
+Leaving them then to act for themselves, as their wisdom shall dictate,
+Guide myself wholly, I promise, according to what they determine,
+And, until I may call her my own, ne'er look on the maiden."
+Thus he went forth: the others meanwhile remained in discussion,
+Rapid and earnest, considering deeply their great undertaking.
+
+Hermann hasted straightway to the stable, where quietly standing
+Found he the spirited stallions, the clean oats quickly devouring,
+And the well-dried hay that was cut from the richest of meadows.
+On them without delay the shining bits he adjusted,
+Hastily drew the straps through the buckles of beautiful plating,
+Firmly fastened then the long broad reins, and the horses
+Led without to the court-yard, whither the willing assistant
+Had with ease, by the pole, already drawn forward the carriage.
+Next to the whipple-tree they with care by the neatly kept traces
+Joined the impetuous strength of the freely travelling horses.
+Whip in hand took Hermann his seat and drove under the doorway.
+Soon as the friends straightway their commodious places had taken,
+Quickly the carriage rolled off, and left the pavement behind it,
+Left behind it the walls of the town and the fresh-whitened towers.
+Thus drove Hermann on till he came to the well-known causeway.
+Rapidly, loitering nowhere, but hastening up hill and down hill.
+But as he now before him perceived the spire of the village,
+And no longer remote the garden-girt houses were lying,
+Then in himself he thought that here he would rein up the horses.
+
+Under the solemn shade of lofty linden-trees lying,
+Which for centuries past upon this spot had been rooted,
+Spread in front of the village a broad and grass-covered common,
+Favorite place of resort for the peasants and neighboring townsfolk.
+Here, at the foot of the trees, sunk deep in the ground was a well-spring;
+When you descended the steps, stone benches you found at the bottom,
+Stationed about the spring, whose pure, living waters were bubbling
+Ceaselessly forth, hemmed in by low walls for convenience of drawing.
+Hermann resolved that here he would halt, with his horses and carriage,
+Under the shade of the trees. He did so, and said to the others:
+"Here alight, my friends, and go your ways to discover
+Whether the maiden in truth be worthy the hand that I offer.
+That she is so, I believe; naught new or strange will ye tell me.
+Had I to act for myself, I should go with speed to the village,
+Where a few words from the maiden's own lips should determine my fortune.
+Ye will with readiness single her out from all of the others,
+For there can scarcely be one that to her may be likened in bearing.
+But I will give you, besides, her modest attire for a token:
+Mark, then, the stomacher's scarlet, that sets off the arch of her bosom,
+Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fitting close to her figure;
+Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle,
+Which with a simple grace her chin's rounded outline encircles;
+Freely and lightly rises above it the head's dainty oval;
+And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided;
+Down from under her bodice, the full, blue petticoat falling,
+Wraps itself, when she is walking, about her neatly shaped ankles.
+Yet one thing will I say, and would make it my earnest petition,--
+Speak not yourselves with the maiden, nor let your intent be discovered;
+Rather inquire of others, and hearken to what they may tell you.
+When ye have tidings enough to satisfy father and mother,
+Then return to me here, and we will consider what further.
+So did I plan it all out in my mind while driving you hither."
+
+Thus he spoke. The friends thereupon went their way to the village,
+Where, in the houses and gardens and barns, the people were swarming;
+Wagons on wagons stood crowded together along the broad highway.
+Men for the harnessed horses and lowing cattle were caring,
+While the women were busy in drying their clothes on the hedges,
+And in the running brook the children were merrily splashing.
+Making their way through the pressure of wagons, of people and cattle,
+Went the commissioned spies, and to right and to left looked about them,
+If they a figure might see that answered the maiden's description;
+But not one of them all appeared the beautiful damsel.
+Denser soon grew the press. A contest arose round the wagons
+'Mongst the threatening men, wherein blended the cries of the women.
+Rapidly then to the spot, and with dignified step, came an elder,
+Joined the clamoring group, and straightway the uproar was silenced,
+As he commanded peace, and rebuked with a fatherly sternness.
+"Has, then, misfortune," he cried, "not yet so bound us together,
+That we have finally learned to bear and forbear one another,
+Though each one, it may be, do not measure his share of the labor?
+He that is happy, forsooth, is contentious! Will sufferings never
+Teach you to cease from your brawls of old between brother and brother?
+Grudge not one to another a place on the soil of the stranger;
+Rather divide what ye have, as yourselves ye would hope to find mercy."
+
+[Illustration: THE EMIGRANTS IN THE VILLAGE  Ludwig Richter]
+
+Thus spoke the man and all became silent: restored to good humor,
+Peaceably then the people arranged their cattle and wagons.
+But when the clergyman now had heard what was said by the stranger,
+And had the steadfast mind of the foreign justice discovered,
+He to the man drew near and with words of meaning addressed him:
+"True it is, father, that when in prosperity people are living,
+Feeding themselves from the earth, which far and wide opens her bosom,
+And in the years and months renews the coveted blessings,--
+All goes on of itself, and each himself deems the wisest,
+Deems the best, and so they continue abiding together,
+He of greatest intelligence ranking no higher than others;
+All that occurs, as if of itself, going quietly forward.
+But let disaster unsettle the usual course of existence,
+Tear down the buildings about us, lay waste the crops and the garden,
+Banish the husband and wife from their old, familiar-grown dwelling,
+Drive them to wander abroad through nights and days of privation,--
+Then, ah then! we look round us to see what man is the wisest,
+And no longer in vain his glorious words will be spoken.
+Tell me, art thou not judge among this fugitive people,
+Father, who thus in an instant canst bid their passions be quiet?
+Thou dost appear to-day as one of those earliest leaders,
+Who through deserts and wanderings guided the emigrant nations.
+Yea, I could even believe I were speaking with Joshua or Moses."
+
+Then with serious look the magistrate answered him, saying:
+"Truly our times might well be compared with all others in strangeness,
+Which are in history mentioned, profane or sacred tradition;
+For who has yesterday lived and to-day in times like the present,
+He has already lived years, events are so crowded together.
+If I look back but a little, it seems that my head must be hoary
+Under the burden of years, and yet my strength is still active.
+Well may we of this day compare ourselves unto that people
+Who, from the burning bush, beheld in the hour of their danger
+God the Lord: we also in cloud and in fire have beheld Him."
+
+Seeing the priest was inclined to speak yet more with the stranger,
+And was desirous of learning his story and that of his people,
+Privately into his ear his companion hastily whispered:
+"Talk with the magistrate further, and lead him to speak of the maiden.
+I, however, will wander in search, and as soon as I find her,
+Come and report to thee here." The minister nodded, assenting;
+And through the gardens, hedges, and barns, went the spy on his errand.
+
+
+CLIO
+
+THE AGE
+
+Now when the foreign judge had been by the minister questioned
+As to his people's distress, and how long their exile had lasted,
+Thus made answer the man: "Of no recent date are our sorrows;
+Since of the gathering bitter of years our people have drunken,--
+Bitterness all the more dreadful because such fair hope had been blighted.
+Who will pretend to deny that his heart swelled high in his bosom,
+And that his freer breast with purer pulses was beating,
+When we beheld the new sun arise in his earliest splendor,
+When of the rights of men we heard, which to all should be common,
+Were of a righteous equality told, and inspiriting freedom?
+Every one hoped that then he should live his own life, and the fetters,
+Binding the various lands, appeared their hold to be loosing,--
+Fetters that had in the hand of sloth been held and self-seeking.
+Looked not the eyes of all nations, throughout that calamitous season,
+Toward the world's capital city, for so it had long been considered,
+And of that glorious title was now, more than ever, deserving?
+Were not the names of those men who first delivered the message,
+Names to compare with the highest that under the heavens are spoken?
+Did not, in every man, grow courage and spirit and language?
+And, as neighbors, we, first of all, were zealously kindled.
+Thereupon followed the war, and armèd bodies of Frenchmen
+Pressed to us nearer; yet nothing but friendship they seemed to be
+                                                       bringing;
+Ay, and they brought it too; for exalted the spirit within them:
+They with rejoicing the festive trees of liberty planted,
+Promising every man what was his own, and to each his own ruling.
+High beat the heart of the youths, and even the aged were joyful;
+Gaily the dance began about the newly raised standard.
+Thus had they speedily won, these overmastering Frenchmen,
+First the spirits of men by the fire and dash of their bearing,
+Then the hearts of the women with irresistible graces.
+Even the pressure of hungry war seemed to weigh on us lightly,
+So before our vision did hope hang over the future,
+Luring our eyes abroad into newly opening pathways.
+Oh, how joyful the time when with her beloved the maiden
+Whirls in the dance, the longed-for day of their union awaiting!
+But more glorious that day on which to our vision the highest
+Heart of man can conceive seemed near and attainable to us.
+Loosened was every tongue, and men--the aged, the stripling--
+Spoke aloud in words that were full of high feeling and wisdom.
+Soon, however, the sky was o'ercast. A corrupt generation
+Fought for the right of dominion, unworthy the good to establish;
+So that they slew one another, their new-made neighbors and brothers
+Held in subjection, and then sent the self-seeking masses against us.
+Chiefs committed excesses and wholesale plunder upon us,
+While those lower plundered and rioted down to the lowest:
+Every one seemed but to care that something be left for the morrow.
+Great past endurance the need, and daily grew the oppression:
+They were the lords of the day; there was none to hear our complaining.
+Then fell trouble and rage upon even the quietest spirit.
+One thought only had all, and swore for their wrongs to have vengeance,
+And for the bitter loss of their hope thus doubly deluded.
+Presently Fortune turned and declared on the side of the German,
+And with hurried marches the French retreated before us.
+Ah! then as never before did we feel the sad fortunes of warfare:
+He that is victor is great and good,--or at least he appears so,--
+And he, as one of his own, will spare the man he has conquered,
+Him whose service he daily needs, and whose property uses.
+But no law the fugitive knows, save of self-preservation,
+And, with a reckless greed, consumes all the possessions about him;
+Then are his passions also inflamed: the despair that is in him
+Out of his heart breaks forth, and takes shape in criminal action.
+Nothing is further held sacred; but all is for plunder. His craving
+Turns in fury on woman, and pleasure is changed into horror.
+Death he sees everywhere round him, and madly enjoys his last moments,
+Taking delight in blood, in the shriekings of anguish exulting.
+Thereupon fiercely arose in our men the stern resolution
+What had been lost to avenge, and defend what'er was remaining.
+Every man sprang to his arms, by the flight of the foeman encouraged,
+And by his blanching cheeks, and his timorous, wavering glances.
+Ceaselessly now rang out the clanging peal of the tocsin.
+Thought of no danger to come restrained their furious anger.
+Quick into weapons of war the husbandman's peaceful utensils
+All were converted; dripped with blood the scythe and the ploughshare.
+Quarter was shown to none: the enemy fell without mercy.
+Fury everywhere raged and the cowardly cunning of weakness.
+Ne'er may I men so carried away by injurious passion
+See again! the sight of the raging wild beast would be better.
+Let not man prattle of freedom, as if himself he could govern!
+Soon as the barriers are torn away, then all of the evil
+Seems let loose, that by law had been driven deep back into corners."
+
+"Excellent man!" thereupon with emphasis answered the pastor:
+"Though thou misjudgest mankind, yet can I not censure thee for it.
+Evil enough, I confess, thou hast had to endure from man's passions.
+Yet wouldst thou look behind over this calamitous season,
+Thou wouldst acknowledge thyself how much good thou also hast witnessed.
+How many excellent things that would in the heart have lain hidden,
+Had not danger aroused them, and did not necessity's pressure
+Bring forth the angel in man, and make him a god of deliv'rance."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the reverend magistrate, smiling:
+"There thou remindest me aptly of how we console the poor fellow,
+After his house has been burned, by recounting the gold and the silver
+Melted and scattered abroad in the rubbish, that still is remaining.
+Little enough, it is true; but even that little is precious.
+Then will the poor wretch after it dig and rejoice if he find it.
+Thus I likewise with happier thoughts will gratefully turn me
+Toward the few beautiful deeds of which I preserve the remembrance.
+Yes, I will not deny, I have seen old quarrels forgotten,
+Ill to avert from the state; I also have witnessed how friendship,
+Love of parent and child, can impossibilities venture;
+Seen how the stripling at once matured into man; how the aged
+Grew again young; and even the child into youth was developed,
+Yea, and the weaker sex too, as we are accustomed to call it,
+Showed itself brave and strong and ready for every emergence.
+Foremost among them all, one beautiful deed let me mention,
+Bravely performed by the hand of a girl, an excellent maiden,
+Who, with those younger than she, had been left in charge of a farmhouse,
+Since there, also, the men had marched against the invader.
+Suddenly fell on the house a fugitive band of marauders,
+Eager for booty, who crowded straightway to the room of the women.
+There they beheld the beautiful form of the fully grown maiden,
+Looked on the charming young girls, who rather might still be called
+                                                          children.
+Savage desire possessed them; at once with merciless passion
+They that trembling band assailed and the high-hearted maiden.
+But she had snatched in an instant the sword of one from its scabbard,
+Felled him with might to the ground, and stretched him bleeding before her.
+Then with vigorous strokes she bravely delivered the maidens,
+Smiting yet four of the robbers; who saved themselves only by flying.
+Then she bolted the gates, and, armed, awaited assistance."
+
+Now when this praise the minister heard bestowed on the maiden,
+Rose straightway for his friend a feeling of hope in his bosom,
+And he had opened his lips to inquire what further befell her,
+If on this mournful flight she now with her people were present;
+When with a hasty step the village doctor approached them,
+Twitched the clergyman's coat, and said in his ear in a whisper:
+"I have discovered the maiden at last among several hundreds;
+By the description I knew her, so come, let thine own eyes behold her!
+Bring too the magistrate with thee, that so we may hear him yet further."
+But as they turned to go, the justice was summoned to leave them,
+Sent for by some of his people by whom his counsel was needed.
+Straightway the preacher, however, the lead of the doctor had followed
+Up to a gap in the fence where his finger he meaningly pointed.
+"Seest thou the maiden?" he said: "she has made some clothes for the baby
+Out of the well-known chintz,--I distinguish it plainly; and further
+There are the covers of blue that Hermann gave in his bundle.
+Well and quickly, forsooth, she has turned to advantage the presents.
+Evident tokens are these, and all else answers well the description.
+Mark how the stomacher's scarlet sets off the arch of her bosom,
+Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fits close to her figure;
+Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle,
+Which, with a simple grace, her chin's rounded outline encircles;
+Freely and lightly rises above it the head's dainty oval,
+And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided.
+Now she is sitting, yet still we behold her majestical stature,
+And the blue petticoat's ample plaits, that down from her bosom
+Hangs in abundant folds about her neatly shaped ankles,
+She without question it is; come, therefore, and let us discover
+Whether she honest and virtuous be, a housewifely maiden."
+
+Then, as the seated figure he studied, the pastor made answer:
+"Truly, I find it no wonder that she so enchanted the stripling,
+Since, to a man's experienced eye, she seems lacking in nothing.
+Happy to whom mother Nature a shape harmonious has given!
+Such will always commend him, and he can be nowhere a stranger.
+All approach with delight, and all are delighted to linger,
+If to the outward shape correspond but a courteous spirit.
+I can assure thee, in her the youth has found him a maiden,
+Who, in the days to come, his life shall gloriously brighten,
+Standing with womanly strength in every necessity by him.
+Surely the soul must be pure that inhabits a body so perfect,
+And of a happy old age such vigorous youth is the promise."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the doctor in language of caution:
+"Often appearances cheat; I like not to trust to externals.
+
+[Illustration: THE PARSON AND THE APOTHECARY WATCH DOROTHEA Ludwig
+Richter]
+
+For I have oft seen put to the test the truth of the proverb:
+Till thou a bushel of salt with a new acquaintance hast eaten,
+Be not too ready to trust him; for time alone renders thee certain
+How ye shall fare with each other, and how well your friendship shall
+                                                           prosper.
+Let us then rather at first make inquiries among the good people
+By whom the maiden is known, and who can inform us about her."
+
+"Much I approve of thy caution," the preacher replied as he followed.
+"Not for ourselves is the suit, and 'tis delicate wooing for others."
+
+Toward the good magistrate, then, the men directed their footsteps,
+Who was again ascending the street in discharge of his duties.
+
+Him the judicious pastor at once addressed and with caution.
+"Look! we a maiden have here descried in the neighboring garden,
+Under an apple-tree sitting, and making up garments for children
+Out of second-hand stuff that somebody doubtless has given;
+And we were pleased with her aspect: she seems like a girl to be trusted.
+Tell us whatever thou knowest: we ask it with honest intentions."
+
+Soon as the magistrate nearer had come, and looked into the garden,
+"Her thou knowest already," he said; "for when I was telling
+Of the heroic deed performed by the hand of that maiden,
+When she snatched the man's sword, and delivered herself and her charges,
+This was the one! she is vigorous born, as thou seest by her stature;
+Yet she is good as strong, for her aged kinsman she tended
+Until the day of his death, which was finally hastened by sorrow
+Over his city's distress, and his own endangered possessions.
+Also, with quiet submission, she bore the death of her lover,
+Who a high-spirited youth, in the earliest flush of excitement,
+Kindled by lofty resolve to fight for a glorious freedom,
+Hurried to Paris, where early a terrible death he encountered.
+For as at home, so there, his foes were deceit and oppression."
+
+Thus the magistrate spoke. The others saluted and thanked him,
+And from his purse a gold-piece the pastor drew forth;--for the silver
+He had some hours before already in charity given,
+When he in mournful groups had seen the poor fugitives passing;--
+And to the magistrate handed it, saying: "Apportion the money
+'Mongst thy destitute people, and God vouchsafe it an increase."
+But the stranger declined it, and, answering, said: "We have rescued
+Many a dollar among us, with clothing and other possessions,
+And shall return, as I hope, ere yet our stock is exhausted."
+
+Then the pastor replied, and pressed the money upon him:
+"None should be backward in giving in days like the present, and no one
+Ought to refuse to accept those gifts which in kindness are offered.
+None can tell how long he may hold what in peace he possesses,
+None how much longer yet he shall roam through the land of the stranger,
+And of his farm be deprived, and deprived of the garden that feeds him."
+
+"Ay, to be sure!" in his bustling way interrupted the doctor:
+"If I had only some money about me, ye surely should have it,
+Little and big; for certainly many among you must need it.
+Yet I'll not go without giving thee something to show what my will is,
+Even though sadly behind my good-will must lag the performance."
+Thus, as he spoke, by its straps his embroidered pocket of leather,
+Where his tobacco was kept, he drew forth,-enough was now in it
+Several pipes to fill,--and daintily opened, and portioned.
+"Small is the gift," he added. The justice, however, made answer:
+"Good tobacco can ne'er to the traveller fail to be welcome."
+Then did the village doctor begin to praise his canaster.
+
+But the clergyman drew him away, and they quitted the justice.
+"Let us make haste," said the thoughtful man: "the youth's waiting
+                                                     in torture;
+Come! let him hear, as soon as he may, the jubilant tidings."
+
+So they hastened their steps, and came to where under the lindens
+Hermann against the carriage was leaning. The horses were stamping
+Wildly the turf; he held them in check, and, buried in musing,
+Stood, into vacancy gazing before him; nor saw the two envoys,
+Till, as they came, they called out and made to him signals of triumph.
+E'en as far off as they then were, the doctor began to address him;
+But they were presently nearer come and then the good pastor
+Grasped his hand and exclaimed, interrupting the word of his comrade:
+"Hail to thee, O young man! thy true eye and heart have well chosen;
+Joy be to thee and the wife of thy youth; for of thee she is worthy.
+Come then and turn us the wagon, and drive straightway to the village,
+There the good maid to woo, and soon bring her home to thy dwelling."
+
+Still, however, the young man stood, without sign of rejoicing,
+Hearing his messenger's words, though heavenly they were and consoling.
+Deeply he sighed as he said: "With hurrying wheels we came hither,
+And shall be forced, perchance, to go mortified homeward and slowly.
+For disquiet has fallen upon me since here I've been waiting,
+Doubt and suspicion, and all that can torture the heart of a lover.
+Think ye we have but to come, and that then the maiden will follow
+Merely because we are rich, while she is poor and an exile?
+Poverty, too, makes proud, when it comes unmerited! Active
+Seems she to be, and contented, and so of the world is she mistress.
+Think ye a maiden like her, with the manners and beauty that she has,
+Can into woman have grown, and no worthy man's love have attracted?
+Think ye that love until now can have been shut out from her bosom?
+Drive not thither too rashly: we might to our mortification
+Have to turn softly homewards our horses' heads. For my fear is
+That to some youth already this heart has been given; already
+This brave hand has been clasped, has pledged faith to some
+                                          fortunate lover.
+Then with my offer, alas! I should stand in confusion before her."
+
+Straightway the pastor had opened his lips to speak consolation,
+When his companion broke in, and said in his voluble fashion:
+"Years ago, forsooth, unknown had been such a dilemma.
+All such affairs were then conducted in regular fashion.
+Soon as a bride for their son had been by the parents selected,
+First some family friend they into their councils would summon,
+Whom they afterward sent as a suitor to visit the parents
+Of the elected bride. Arrayed in his finest apparel,
+Soon after dinner on Sunday he sought the respectable burgher,
+When some friendly words were exchanged upon general subjects,
+He knowing how to direct the discourse as suited his purpose.
+After much circumlocution he finally mentioned the daughter,
+Praising her highly, and praising the man and the house that had sent him.
+Persons of tact perceived his intent, and the politic envoy
+Readily saw how their minds were disposed, and explained himself further.
+Then were the offer declined, e'en the 'no' brought not mortification;
+But did it meet with success, the suitor was ever thereafter
+Made the chief guest in the house on every festive occasion.
+For, through the rest of their lives, the couple ne'er failed to remember
+That 'twas by his experienced hand the first knot had been gathered.
+All that, however, is changed, and, with many another good custom,
+Quite fallen out of the fashion; for every man woos for himself now.
+Therefore let every man hear to his face pronounced the refusal,
+If a refusal there be, and stand shamed in the sight of the maiden!"
+
+"Let that be as it may!" made answer the youth, who had scarcely
+Unto the words paid heed; but in silence had made his decision.
+"I will go thither myself, will myself hear my destiny spoken
+Out of the lips of a maiden in whom I a confidence cherish
+Greater than heart of man has e'er before cherished in woman.
+Say what she will, 'twill be good and wise; of that I am certain.
+Should I behold her never again, yet this once will I see her;
+Yet this once the clear gaze of those dark eyes will encounter.
+If I must press her ne'er to my heart, yet that neck and that bosom
+Will I behold once more, that my arm so longs to encircle;
+Once more that mouth will see, whose kiss and whose 'yes' would for ever
+Render me happy, from which a 'no' will for ever destroy me.
+But ye must leave me alone. Do not wait for me here; but return ye
+Back to my father and mother again, and give them the knowledge
+That their son has not been deceived, that the maiden is worthy.
+So then leave me alone! I shall follow the footpath that crosses
+Over the hill by the pear-tree, and thence descends through our vineyard,
+Taking a shorter way home. And oh, may I bring to our dwelling,
+Joyful and quick my beloved! but perhaps I alone may come creeping
+Over that path to the house, and ne'er again tread it with gladness."
+
+Thus he spoke, and gave up the reins to the hand of the pastor,
+Who understandingly grasped them, the foaming horses controlling,
+Speedily mounted the carriage, and sat in the seat of the driver.
+
+But thou didst hesitate, provident neighbor, and say in remonstrance:
+"Heart and soul and spirit, my friend, I willingly trust thee;
+But as for life and limb, they are not in the safest of keeping,
+When the temporal reins are usurped by the hand of the clergy."
+
+But thou didst laugh at his words, intelligent pastor, and answer:
+"Sit thee down, and contentedly trust me both body and spirit;
+For, in holding the reins, my hand grew long ago skilful,
+Long has my eye been trained in making the nicest of turnings;
+For we were practised well in driving the carriage in Strasburg,
+When I the youthful baron accompanied thither; then daily
+Rolled the carriage, guided by me, through the echoing gateway,
+Out over dusty roads till we reached the meadows and lindens,
+Steering through groups of the town's-folk beguiling the day there
+                                                   with walking."
+
+Thereupon, half-reassured, the neighbor ascended the wagon,
+Sat like one who for a prudent leap is holding him ready,
+And the stallions sped rapidly homeward, desiring their stable.
+Clouds of dust whirled up from under their powerful hoof-beats.
+Long the youth stood there yet, and saw the dust in its rising,
+Saw the dust as it settled again: he stood there unheeding.
+
+
+ERATO
+
+DOROTHEA
+
+Like as the traveller, who, when the sun is approaching its setting,
+Fixes his eyes on it once again ere quickly it vanish,
+Then on the sides of the rocks, and on all the darkening bushes,
+Sees its hovering image; whatever direction he look in
+That hastes before, and flickers and gleams in radiant colors,--
+So before Hermann's eyes moved the beautiful shape of the maiden
+Softly, and seeming to follow the path that led into the corn-field.
+But he aroused from his wildering dream and turned himself slowly
+Toward where the village lay and was wildered again; for again came
+Moving to meet him the lofty form of the glorious maiden.
+Fixedly gazed he upon her; herself it was and no phantom.
+Bearing in either hand a larger jar and a smaller,
+Each by the handle, with busy step she came on to the fountain.
+Joyfully then he hastened to meet her; the sight of her gave him
+Courage and strength; and thus the astonished girl he accosted:
+"Do I then find thee, brave-hearted maiden, so soon again busy,
+Rendering aid unto others, and happy in bringing them comfort?
+Say why thou comest alone to this well which lies at such a distance,
+When all the rest are content with the water they find in the village?
+This has peculiar virtues, 'tis true; and the taste is delicious.
+Thou to that mother wouldst bring it, I trow, whom thy faithfulness
+                                                        rescued."
+
+Straightway with cordial greeting the kindly maiden made answer:
+"Here has my walk to the spring already been amply rewarded,
+Since I have found the good friend who bestowed so abundantly on us;
+For a pleasure not less than the gifts is the sight of the giver.
+Come, I pray thee, and see for thyself who has tasted thy bounty;
+Come, and the quiet thanks receive of all it has solaced.
+But that thou straightway the reason may'st know for which I am hither
+Come to draw, where pure and unfailing the water is flowing,
+This I must tell thee,--that all the water we have in the village
+Has by improvident people been troubled with horses and oxen
+Wading direct through the source which brings the inhabitants water.
+And furthermore they have also made foul with their washings and rinsings
+All the troughs of the village, and all the fountains have sullied;
+For but one thought is in all, and that how to satisfy quickest
+Self and the need of the moment, regardless of what may come after."
+
+[Illustration: HERMANN AND DOROTHEA MEET AT THE FOUNTAIN Ludwig
+Richter]
+
+Thus she spoke, and the broad stone steps meanwhile had descended
+With her companion beside her, and on the low wall of the fountain
+Both sat them down. She bent herself over to draw, and he also
+Took in his hand the jar that remained, and bent himself over;
+And in the blue of the heavens, they, seeing their image reflected,
+Friendly greetings and nods exchanged in the quivering mirror.
+
+"Give me to drink," the youth thereupon in his gladness petitioned,
+And she handed the pitcher. Familiarly sat they and rested,
+Both leaning over their jars, till she presently asked her companion:
+"Tell me, why I find thee here, and without thy horses and wagon,
+Far from the place where I met thee at first? How camest thou hither?"
+
+Thoughtful he bent his eyes on the ground, then quietly raised them
+Up to her face, and, meeting with frankness the gaze of the maiden,
+Felt himself solaced and stilled. But then impossible was it,
+That he of love should speak; her eye told not of affection,
+Only of clear understanding, requiring intelligent answer.
+And he composed himself quickly, and cordially said to the maiden:
+"Hearken to me, my child, and let me reply to thy question.
+'Twas for thy sake that hither I came; why seek to conceal it?
+Know I live happy at home with both my affectionate parents,
+Faithfully giving my aid their house and estates in directing,
+Being an only son, and because our affairs are extensive.
+Mine is the charge of the farm; my father bears rule in the household;
+While the presiding spirit of all is the diligent mother.
+But thine experience doubtless has taught thee how grievously servants,
+Now through deceit, and now through their carelessness, harass the
+                                                        mistress,
+Forcing her ever to change and replace one fault with another.
+Long for that reason my mother has wished for a maid in the household,
+Who not with hand alone, but with heart, too, will lend her assistance,
+Taking the daughter's place, whom alas! she was early deprived of.
+Now when today by the wagon I saw thee, so ready and cheerful,
+Witnessed the strength of thine arms, and thy limbs of such healthful
+                                                         proportion,
+When thy intelligent speech I heard, I was smitten with wonder.
+Hastening homeward, I there to my parents and neighbors the stranger
+Praised as she well deserved. But I now am come hither to tell thee
+What is their wish as mine.--Forgive me my stammering language."
+
+"Hesitate not," she, answering, said, "to tell me what follows.
+Thou dost not give me offence; I have listened with gratitude to thee:
+Speak it out honestly therefore; the sound of it will not alarm me.
+Thou wouldst engage me as servant to wait on thy father and mother,
+And to look after the well-ordered house of which ye are the owners;
+And thou thinkest in me to find them a capable servant,
+One who is skilled in her work, and not of a rude disposition.
+Short thy proposal has been, and short shall be also my answer.
+Yes, I will go with thee home, and the call of fate I will follow.
+Here my duty is done: I have brought the newly made mother
+Back to her kindred again, who are all in her safety rejoicing.
+Most of our people already are gathered; the others will follow.
+All think a few days more will certainly see them returning
+Unto their homes; for such is the exile's constant delusion.
+But by no easy hope do I suffer myself to be cheated
+During these sorrowful days which promise yet more days of sorrow.
+All the bands of the world have been loosed, and what shall unite them,
+Saving alone the need, the need supreme, that is on us?
+If in a good man's house I can earn my living by service,
+Under the eye of an excellent mistress, I gladly will do it;
+Since of doubtful repute, must be always a wandering maiden.
+Yes, I will go with thee, soon as I first shall have carried the pitchers
+Back to my friends, and prayed the good people to give me their blessing
+Come, thou must see them thyself, and from their hands must receive me."
+
+Joyfully hearkened the youth to the willing maiden's decision,
+Doubtful whether he ought not at once to make honest confession.
+
+Yet it appeared to him best to leave her awhile in her error,
+Nor for her love to sue, before leading her home to his dwelling.
+Ah! and the golden ring he perceived on the hand of the maiden,
+Wherefore he let her speak on, and gave diligent ear to her language.
+
+"Come," she presently said, "Let us back to the village; for maidens
+Always are sure to be blamed if they tarry too long at the fountain.
+Yet how delightful it is to chat by the murmuring water!"
+
+Then from their seats they rose, and both of them turned to the fountain
+One more look behind, and a tender longing possessed them.
+Both of the water-jars then in silence she took by the handle,
+Carried them up the steps, while behind her followed her lover.
+One of the pitchers he begged her to give him to lighten the burden.
+"Nay, let it be!" she said: "I carry them better so balanced.
+Nor shall the master, who is to command, be doing me service.
+Look not so gravely upon me, as thinking my fortune a hard one.
+Early a woman should learn to serve, for that is her calling;
+Since through service alone she finally comes to the headship,
+Comes to the due command that is hers of right in the household.
+Early the sister must wait on her brother, and wait on her parents;
+Life must be always with her a perpetual coming and going,
+Or be a fetching and carrying, making and doing for others.
+Happy for her be she wonted to think no way is too grievous,
+And if the hours of the night be to her as the hours of the daytime;
+If she find never a needle too fine, nor a labor too trifling;
+Wholly forgetful of self, and caring to live but in others!
+For she will surely, as mother, have need of every virtue,
+When, in the time of her illness, the cries of her infant arouse her
+Calling for food from her weakness, and cares are to suffering added.
+Twenty men bound into one were not able to bear such a burden;
+Nor is it meant that they should, yet should they with gratitude view it."
+
+Thus she spoke, and was come, meanwhile, with her silent companion,
+Far as the floor of the barn, at the furthermost end of the garden,
+Where was the sick woman lying, whom, glad, she had left with her
+                                                      daughters,
+Those late rescued maidens: fair pictures of innocence were they.
+Both of them entered the barn; and, e'en as they did so, the justice,
+Leading a child in each hand, came in from the other direction.
+These had been lost, hitherto, from the sight of their sorrowing mother;
+But in the midst of the crowd the old man now had descried them.
+Joyfully sprang they forward to meet their dear mother's embraces,
+And to salute with delight their brother, their unknown companion.
+Next upon Dorothea they sprang with affectionate greeting,
+Asking for bread and fruit, but more than all else for some water.
+So then she handed the water about; and not only the children
+Drank, but the sick woman, too, and her daughters, and with them
+                                                   the justice.
+All were refreshed, and highly commended the glorious water;
+Acid it was to the taste, and reviving, and wholesome to drink of.
+
+Then with a serious face the maiden replied to them, saying:
+"Friends, for the last time now to your mouth have I lifted my pitcher;
+And for the last time by me have your lips been moistened with water.
+But henceforth in the heat of the day when the draught shall refresh you,
+When in the shade ye enjoy your rest beside a clear fountain,
+Think of me then sometimes and of all my affectionate service,
+Prompted more by my love than the duty I owed you as kindred.
+I shall acknowledge as long as I live the kindness ye've shown me.
+'Tis with regret that I leave you; but every one now is a burden,
+More than a help to his neighbor, and all must be finally scattered
+Far through a foreign land, if return to our homes be denied us.
+See, here stands the youth to whom we owe thanks for the presents.
+He gave the cloak for the baby, and all these welcome provisions.
+Now he is come, and has asked me if I will make one in his dwelling,
+That I may serve therein his wealthy and excellent parents.
+And I refuse not the offer; for maidens must always be serving;
+Burdensome were it for them to rest and be served in the household.
+Therefore I follow him gladly. A youth of intelligence seems he,
+And so will also the parents be, as becometh the wealthy.
+So then farewell, dear friend; and may'st thou rejoice in thy nursling,
+Living, and into thy face already so healthfully looking!
+When thou shalt press him against thy breast in these gay-colored
+                                                      wrappings,
+Oh, then remember the kindly youth who bestowed them upon us,
+And who me also henceforth, thy sister, will shelter and nourish.
+Thou, too, excellent man!" she said as she turned to the justice;
+"Take my thanks that in many a need I have found thee a father."
+
+Then she knelt down on the floor by the side of the newly made mother,
+Kissing the weeping woman, and taking her low-whispered blessing.
+
+Thou, meanwhile, worshipful justice, wast speaking to Hermann and saying:
+"Justly mayst thou, my friend, be counted among the good masters,
+Careful to manage their household affairs with capable servants.
+For I have often observed how in sheep, as in horses and oxen,
+Men conclude never a bargain without making closest inspection,
+While with a servant who all things preserves, if honest and able,
+And who will every thing lose and destroy, if he set to work falsely,
+Him will a chance or an accident make us admit to our dwelling,
+And we are left, when too late, to repent an o'er hasty decision.
+Thou understandest the matter it seems; because thou hast chosen,
+Thee and thy parents to serve in the house, a maid who is honest.
+Hold her with care; for as long as thy household is under her keeping,
+Thou shalt not want for a sister, nor yet for a daughter thy parents."
+
+Many were come, meanwhile, near relatives all of the mother,
+Bringing her various gifts, and more suitable quarters announcing.
+All of them, hearing the maiden's decision, gave Hermann their blessing,
+Coupled with glances of meaning, while each made his special reflections.
+Hastily one and another would say in the ear of his neighbor:
+"If in the master a lover she find, right well were she cared for."
+Hermann took her at last by the hand, and said as he did so:
+"Let us be going; the day is declining, and distant the city."
+Eager and voluble then the women embraced Dorothea.
+Hermann drew her away; but other adieus must be spoken:
+Lastly the children with cries fell upon her and terrible weeping,
+Clung to her garments, and would not their dear second mother should
+                                                        leave them.
+But in a tone of command the women said, one and another:
+"Hush now, children, she's going to the town, and will presently bring you
+Plenty of nice sweet cake that was by your brother bespoken
+When by the stork just now he was brought past the shop of the baker.
+Soon you will see her come back with sugar-plums splendidly gilded."
+Then did the little ones loose their hold, and Hermann, though hardly,
+Tore her from further embraces away, and far-waving kerchiefs.
+
+
+MELPOMENE
+
+HERMAN AND DOROTHEA
+
+Toward the setting sun the two thus went on their journey:
+Close he had wrapped himself round with clouds portending a tempest.
+Out from the veil, now here and now there, with fiery flashes,
+Gleaming over the field shot forth the ominous lightning.
+"May not these threatening heavens," said Hermann, "be presently sending
+Hailstones upon us and violent rains; for fair is the harvest."
+And in the waving luxuriant grain they delighted together:
+Almost as high it reached as the lofty shapes that moved through it.
+
+Thereupon spoke the maiden, and said to her guide and companion:
+"Friend, unto whom I soon am to owe so kindly a fortune,
+Shelter and home, while many an exile's exposed to the tempest,
+Tell me concerning thy parents, I pray thee, and teach me to know them,
+Them whom with all my heart I desire to serve in the future.
+Who understands his master, more easily gives satisfaction,
+Having regard to the things which to him seem chief in importance,
+And on the doing of which his firm-set mind is determined.
+Tell me therefore, I pray, how to win thy father and mother."
+
+And to her question made answer the good and intelligent Hermann:
+"Ah, what wisdom thou showest, thou good, thou excellent maiden,
+Asking thus first of all concerning the tastes of my parents!
+Know that in vain hitherto I have labored in serving my father,
+Taking upon me as were it my own, the charge of the household;
+Early and late at work in the fields, and o'erseeing the vine-yard.
+But my mother I fully content, who can value my service;
+And thou wilt also appear in her eyes the worthiest of maidens,
+If for the house thou carest, as were it thine own thou wast keeping.
+Otherwise is it with father, who cares for the outward appearance.
+Do not regard me, good maiden, as one who is cold and unfeeling,
+That unto thee a stranger I straightway discover my father.
+Nay, I assure thee that never before have words such as these are
+Freely dropped from my tongue, which is not accustomed to prattle;
+But from out of my bosom thou lurest its every secret.
+Some of the graces of life my good father covets about him,
+Outward signs of affection he wishes, as well as of honor;
+And an inferior servant might possibly give satisfaction,
+Who could turn these to account, while he might be displeased with a
+                                                           better."
+
+Thereupon said she with joy, the while him hastening footsteps
+Over the darkening pathway with easy motion she quickened:
+"Truly I hope to them both I shall equally give satisfaction:
+For in thy mother's nature I find such an one as mine own is,
+And to the outward graces I've been from my childhood accustomed.
+Greatly was courtesy valued among our neighbors the Frenchmen,
+During their earlier days; it was common to noble and burgher,
+As to the peasant, and every one made it the rule of his household.
+So, on the side of us Germans, the children were likewise accustomed
+Daily to bring to their parents, with kissing of hands and with curtseys,
+Morning good-wishes, and all through the day to be prettily mannered.
+Every thing thus that I learned, and to which I've been used from my
+                                                         childhood,
+All that my heart shall suggest, shall be brought into play for thy
+                                                          father.
+But who shall tell me of thee, and how thyself shouldst be treated,
+Thou the only son of the house, and henceforth my master?"
+
+Thus she said, and e'en as she spoke they stood under the pear-tree.
+Down from the heavens the moon at her full was shedding her splendor.
+Night had come on, and wholly obscured was the last gleam of sunlight,
+So that contrasting masses lay side by side with each other,
+Clear and bright as the day, and black with the shadows of midnight;
+Gratefully fell upon Hermann's ear the kindly asked question
+Under the shade of the glorious tree, the spot he so treasured,
+Which but this morning had witnessed the tears he had shed for the exile.
+And while they sat themselves down to rest them here for a little,
+Thus spoke the amorous youth, as he grasped the hand of the maiden:
+"Suffer thy heart to make answer, and follow it freely in all things."
+Yet naught further he ventured to say although so propitious
+Seemed the hour; he feared he should only haste on a refusal.
+Ah, and he felt besides the ring on her finger, sad token!
+Therefore they sat there, silent and still, beside one another.
+
+First was the maiden to speak: "How sweet is this glorious moonlight!"
+Said she at length: "It is as the light of the day in its brightness.
+
+[Illustration: HERMAN AND DOROTHEA UNDER THE PEAR TREE Ludwig Richter]
+
+There in the city I plainly can see the houses and court-yards,
+And in the gable--methinks I can number its panes--is a window."
+
+"What thou seest," the modest youth thereupon made her answer,--
+"What thou seest is our dwelling, to which I am leading thee downward,
+And that window yonder belongs to my room in the attic,
+Which will be thine perhaps, for various changes are making.
+All these fields, too, are ours; they are ripe for the harvest to-morrow.
+Here in the shade we will rest, and partake of our noon-tide refreshment.
+But it is time we began our descent through the vineyard and garden;
+For dost thou mark how yon threatening storm-cloud comes nearer and
+                                                           nearer,
+Charged with lightning, and ready our fair full moon to extinguish?"
+
+So they arose from their seats, and over the corn fields descended,
+Through the luxuriant grain, enjoying the brightness of evening,
+Until they came to the vineyard, and so entered into its shadow.
+Then he guided her down o'er the numerous blocks that were lying,
+Rough and unhewn on the pathway, and served as the steps of the alley.
+Slowly the maiden descended, and leaning her hands on his shoulder,
+While with uncertain beams, the moon through the leaves overlooked them,
+Ere she was veiled by the cloud, and so left the couple in darkness.
+Carefully Hermann's strength supported the maid that hung o'er him;
+But, not knowing the path and the rough-hewn steps that led down it,
+Missed she her footing, her ankle turned, and she surely had fallen,
+Had not the dexterous youth his arm outstretched in an instant,
+And his beloved upheld. She gently sank on his shoulder;
+Breast was pressed against breast, and cheek against cheek. Thus he
+                                                      stood there
+Fixed as a marble statue, the force of will keeping him steadfast,
+Drew her not to him more closely, but braced himself under her pressure.
+Thus he the glorious burden felt, the warmth of her bosom,
+And the perfume of her breath, that over his lips was exhaling;
+Bore with the heart of a man the majestic form of the woman.
+
+But she with playfulness said, concealing the pain that she suffered:
+"That is a sign of misfortune, so timorous persons would tell us,
+When on approaching a house we stumble not far from the threshold;
+And for myself, I confess, I could wish for a happier omen.
+Let us here linger awhile that thy parents may not have to blame thee,
+Seeing a limping maid, and thou seem an incompetent landlord."
+
+
+URANIA
+
+PROSPECT
+
+Muses, O ye who the course of true love so willingly favor,
+Ye who thus far on his way the excellent youth have conducted,
+Even before the betrothal have pressed to his bosom the maiden;
+Further your aid vouchsafe this charming pair in uniting,
+Straightway dispersing the clouds which over their happiness lower!
+Yet first of all declare what is passing meanwhile at the Lion.
+  Now for the third time again the mother impatient had  entered
+Where were assembled the men, whom anxious but now she had quitted;
+Spoke of the gathering storm, and the moonlight's rapid obscuring;
+Then of her son's late tarrying abroad and the dangers of nightfall;
+Sharply upbraided her friends that without having speech of the maiden,
+And without urging his suit, they had parted from Hermann so early.
+
+"Make it not worse than it is," the father replied with displeasure.
+"For, as thou seest, we tarry ourselves and are waiting the issue."
+
+Calmly, however, from where he was sitting the neighbor made answer:
+"Never in hours of disquiet like this do I fail to be grateful
+Unto my late, blessed father, who every root of impatience
+Tore from my heart when a child, and left no fibre remaining;
+So that I learned on the instant to wait as do none of your sages."
+"Tell us," the pastor returned, "what legerdemain he made use of."
+"That will I gladly relate, for all may draw from it a lesson;"
+So made the neighbor reply. "When a boy I once stood of a Sunday
+Full of impatience, and looking with eagerness out for the carriage
+Which was to carry us forth to the spring that lies under the lindens.
+Still the coach came not. I ran, like a weasel, now hither, now thither,
+Up stairs and down, and forward and back, 'twixt the door and the window;
+Even my fingers itched to be moving; I scratched on the tables,
+Went about pounding and stamping, and hardly could keep me from weeping.
+All was observed by the calm-tempered man; but at last when my folly
+Came to be carried too far, by the arm he quietly took me,
+Led me away to the window, and spoke in this serious language:
+'Seest thou yonder the carpenter's shop that is closed for the Sunday?
+He will re-open to-morrow, when plane and saw will be started,
+And will keep on through the hours of labor from morning till evening.
+But consider you this,--a day will be presently coming
+When that man shall himself be astir and all of his workmen,
+Making a coffin for thee to be quickly and skilfully finished.
+Then that house of boards they will busily bring over hither,
+Which must at last receive alike the impatient and patient,
+And which is destined soon with close-pressing roof to be covered.'
+Straightway I saw the whole thing in my mind as if it were doing;
+Saw the boards fitting together, and saw the black color preparing,
+Sat me down patiently then, and in quiet awaited the carriage.
+Now when others I see, in seasons of anxious expectance,
+Running distracted about, I cannot but think of the coffin."
+
+Smiling, the pastor replied: "The affecting picture of death stands
+Not as a dread to the wise, and not as an end to the pious.
+Those it presses again into life, and teaches to use it;
+These by affliction it strengthens in hope to future salvation.
+Death becomes life unto both. Thy father was greatly mistaken
+When to a sensitive boy he death in death thus depicted.
+Let us the value of nobly ripe age, point out to the young man,
+And to the aged the youth, that in the eternal progression
+Both may rejoice, and life may in life thus find its completion."
+
+But the door was now opened, and showed the majestical couple.
+Filled with amaze were the friends, and amazed the affectionate parents,
+Seeing the form of the maid so well matched with that of her lover.
+Yea, the door seemed too low to allow the tall figures to enter,
+As they together now appeared coming over the threshold.
+
+Hermann, with hurried words, presented her thus to his parents:
+"Here is a maiden," he said; "such a one as ye wish in the household.
+Kindly receive her, dear father: she merits it well; and thou, mother,
+Question her straightway on all that belongs to a house-keeper's duty,
+That ye may see how well she deserves to ye both to be nearer."
+
+  Quickly he then drew aside the excellent clergyman, saying:
+"Help me, O worthy sir, and speedily out of this trouble;
+Loosen, I pray thee, this knot, at whose untying I tremble.
+Know that 'tis not as a lover that I have brought hither the maiden;
+But she believes that as servant she comes to the house, and I tremble
+Lest in displeasure she fly as soon as there's mention of marriage.
+But be it straightway decided; for she no longer in error
+Thus shall be left, and I this suspense no longer can suffer.
+Hasten and show us in this a proof of the wisdom we honor."
+
+  Toward the company then the clergyman instantly turned him;
+But already, alas! had the soul of the maiden been troubled,
+Hearing the father's speech; for he, in his sociable fashion,
+Had in these playful words, with the kindest intention addressed her:
+"Ay, this is well, my child! with delight I perceive that my Hermann
+Has the good taste of his father, who often showed his in his young days,
+Leading out always the fairest to dance, and bringing the fairest
+Finally home as his wife; our dear little mother here that was.
+For by the bride that a man shall elect we can judge what himself is,
+Tell what the spirit is in him, and whether he feel his own value.
+Nor didst thou need for thyself, I'll engage, much time for decision;
+For, in good sooth, methinks, he's no difficult person to follow."
+
+Hermann had heard but in part; his limbs were inwardly trembling,
+And of a sudden a stillness had fallen on all of the circle.
+
+But by these words of derision, for such she could not but deem them,
+Wounded, and stung to the depths of her soul, the excellent maiden,
+Stood, while the fugitive blood o'er her cheeks and e'en to her bosom
+Poured its flush. But she governed herself, and her courage collecting,
+Answered the old man thus, her pain not wholly concealing:
+"Truly for such a reception thy son had in no wise prepared me,
+When he the ways of his father described, the excellent burgher.
+Thou art a man of culture, I know, before whom I am standing;
+Dealest with every one wisely, according as suits his position;
+But thou hast scanty compassion, it seems, on one such as I am,
+Who, a poor girl, am now crossing thy threshold with purpose to serve thee;
+Else, with such bitter derision, thou wouldst not have made me remember
+How far removed my fortune from that of thyself and thy son is.
+True, I come poor to thy house, and bring with me naught but my bundle
+Here where is every abundance to gladden the prosperous inmates.
+Yet I know well myself; I feel the relations between us.
+Say, is it noble, with so much of mockery straightway to greet me,
+That I am sent from the house while my foot is scarce yet on the
+           threshold?"
+
+Anxiously Hermann turned and signed to his ally the pastor
+That he should rush to the rescue and straightway dispel the delusion.
+Then stepped the wise man hastily forward and looked on the maiden's
+Tearful eyes, her silent pain and repressed indignation,
+And in his heart was impelled not at once to clear up the confusion,
+Rather to put to the test the girl's disquieted spirit.
+Therefore he unto her said in language intended to try her:
+"Surely, thou foreign-born maiden, thou didst not maturely consider,
+When thou too rashly decidedst to enter the service of strangers,
+All that is meant by the placing thyself 'neath the rule of a master;
+For by our hand to a bargain the fate of the year is determined,
+And but a single 'yea' compels to much patient endurance.
+Not the worst part of the service the wearisome steps to be taken,
+Neither the bitter sweat of a labor that presses unceasing;
+Since the industrious freeman must toil as well as the servant.
+But 'tis to bear with the master's caprice when he censures unjustly,
+Or when, at variance with self, he orders now this, now the other;
+Bear with the petulance, too, of the mistress, easily angered,
+And with the rude, overbearing ways of unmannerly children.
+All this is hard to endure, and yet to go on with thy duties
+Quickly, without delay, nor thyself grow sullen and stubborn.
+Yet thou appearest ill fitted for this, since already so deeply
+Stung by the father's jests: whereas there is nothing more common
+Than for a girl to be teased on account of a youth she may fancy."
+
+Thus he spoke. The maiden had felt the full force of his language,
+And she restrained her no more; but with passionate out-burst her feelings
+Made themselves way; a sob broke forth from her now heaving bosom,
+And, while the scalding tears poured down, she straightway made answer
+"Ah, that rational man who thinks to advise us in sorrow,
+Knows not how little of power his cold words have in relieving
+Ever a heart from that woe which a sovereign fate has inflicted.
+Ye are prosperous and glad; how then should a pleasantry wound you?
+Yet but the lightest touch is a source of pain to the sick man.
+Nay, concealment itself, if successful, had profited nothing.
+Better show now what had later increased to a bitterer anguish,
+And to an inward consuming despair might perhaps have reduced me.
+Let me go back! for here in this house I can tarry no longer.
+I will away, and wander in search of my hapless companions,
+Whom I forsook in their need; for myself alone choosing the better.
+This is my firm resolve, and I therefore may make a confession
+Which might for years perhaps have else lain hid in my bosom.
+Deeply indeed was I hurt by the father's words of derision;
+Not that I'm sensitive, proud beyond what is fitting a servant;
+But that my heart in truth had felt itself stirred with affection
+Toward the youth who to-day had appeared to my eyes as a savior.
+When he first left me there on the road, he still remained present,
+Haunting my every thought; I fancied the fortunate maiden
+Whom as a bride, perhaps, his heart had already elected.
+When at the fountain I met him again, the sight of him wakened
+Pleasure as great as if there had met me an angel from heaven;
+And with what gladness I followed, when asked to come as his servant.
+True, that I flattered myself in my heart,--I will not deny it,--
+While we were hitherward coming, I might peradventure deserve him,
+Should I become at last the important stay of the household.
+Now I, alas! for the first time see what risk I was running,
+When I would make my home so near to the secretly loved one;
+Now for the first time feel how far removed a poor maiden
+Is from an opulent youth, no matter how great her deserving.
+All this I now confess, that my heart ye may not misinterpret,
+In that 'twas hurt by a chance to which I owe my awaking.
+Hiding my secret desires, this dread had been ever before me,
+That at some early day he would bring him a bride to his dwelling;
+And ah, how could I then my inward anguish have suffered!
+Happily I have been warned, and happily now has my bosom
+Been of its secret relieved, while yet there is cure for the evil.
+But no more; I have spoken; and now shall nothing detain me
+Longer here in a house where I stay but in shame and confusion,
+Freely confessing my love and that foolish hope that I cherished.
+Not the night which abroad is covered with lowering storm clouds;
+Not the roll of the thunder--I hear its peal--shall deter me;
+Not the pelt of the rain which without is beating in fury;
+Neither the blustering tempest; for all these things have I suffered
+During our sorrowful flight, and while the near foe was pursuing.
+Now I again go forth, as I have so long been accustomed,
+Carried away by the whirl of the times, and from every thing parted.
+Fare ye well! I tarry no longer; all now is over."
+
+Thus she spoke and back to the door she hastily turned her,
+Still bearing under her arm, as she with her had brought it, her bundle.
+But with both of her arms the mother seized hold of the maiden,
+Clasping her round the waist, and exclaiming, amazed and bewildered:
+"Tell me, what means all this? and these idle tears, say, what mean they?
+I will not let thee depart: thou art the betrothed of my Hermann."
+
+But still the father stood, observing the scene with displeasure,
+Looked on the weeping girl, and said in a tone of vexation:
+"This then must be the return that I get for all my indulgence,
+That at the close of the day this most irksome of all things should happen!
+For there is naught I can tolerate less than womanish weeping,
+Violent outcries, which only involve in disorder and passion,
+What with a little of sense had been more smoothly adjusted.
+Settle the thing for yourselves: I'm going to bed; I've no patience
+Longer to be a spectator of these your marvelous doings."
+Quickly he turned as he spoke, and hastened to go to the chamber
+Where he was wonted to rest, and his marriage bed was kept standing,
+But he was held by his son, who said in a tone of entreaty:
+"Father, hasten not from us, and be thou not wroth with the maiden.
+I, only I, am to blame as the cause of all this confusion,
+Which by his dissimulation our friend unexpectedly heightened.
+Speak, O worthy sir; for to thee my cause I intrusted.
+Heap not up sorrow and anger, but rather let all this be ended;
+For I could hold thee never again in such high estimation,
+If thou shouldst show but delight in pain, not superior wisdom."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the excellent clergyman, smiling:
+"Tell me, what other device could have drawn this charming confession
+Out of the good maiden's lips, and thus have revealed her affection?
+Has not thy trouble been straightway transformed into gladness and rapture?
+Therefore speak up for thyself; what need of the tongue of another?"
+
+Thereupon Hermann came forward, and spoke in these words of affection:
+"Do not repent of thy tears, nor repent of these passing distresses;
+For they complete my joy, and--may I not hope it--thine also?
+Not to engage the stranger, the excellent maid, as a servant,
+Unto the fountain I came; but to sue for thy love I came thither.
+Only, alas! my timorous look could thy heart's inclination
+Nowise perceive; I read in thine eyes of nothing but kindness,
+As from the fountain's tranquil mirror thou gavest me greeting.
+Might I but bring thee home, the half of my joy was accomplished.
+But thou completest it unto me now; oh, blest be thou for it!"
+Then with a deep emotion the maiden gazed on the stripling;
+Neither forbade she embrace and kiss, the summit of rapture,
+When to a loving pair they come as the longed for assurance,
+Pledge of a lifetime of bliss, that appears to them now never-ending.
+
+Unto the others, meanwhile, the pastor had made explanation.
+But with feeling and grace the maid now advanced to the father,
+Bent her before him, and kissing the hand he would fain have withholden,
+Said: "Thou wilt surely be just and forgive one so startled as I was,
+First for my tears of distress, and now for the tears of my gladness.
+That emotion forgive me, and oh! forgive me this also.
+For I can scarce comprehend the happiness newly vouchsafed me.
+Yes, let that first vexation of which I, bewildered, was guilty
+Be, too, the last. Whatever the maid of affectionate service
+Faithfully promised, shall be to thee now performed by the daughter."
+
+Straightway then, concealing his tears, the father embraced her,
+Cordially, too, the mother came forward and kissed her with fervor,
+Pressing her hands in her own: the weeping women were silent.
+
+Thereupon quickly he seized, the good and intelligent pastor,
+First the father's hand, and the wedding-ring drew from his finger,--
+Not so easily either: the finger was plump and detained it,--
+Next took the mother's ring also, and with them betrothed he the children,
+Saying: "These golden circlets once more their office performing
+Firmly a tie shall unite, which in all things shall equal the old one,
+Deeply is this young man imbued with love of the maiden,
+And, as the maiden confesses, her heart is gone out to him also.
+
+[Illustration: THE BETROTHAL Ludwig Richter]
+
+Here do I therefore betroth you and bless for the years that are coming,
+With the consent of the parents, and having this friend as a witness."
+
+Then the neighbor saluted at once, and expressed his good wishes;
+But when the clergyman now the golden circlet was drawing
+Over the maiden's hand, he observed with amazement the other,
+Which had already by Hermann been anxiously marked at the fountain.
+And with a kindly raillery thus thereupon he addressed her:
+"So, then thy second betrothal is this? Let us hope the first bridegroom
+May not appear at the altar, and so prohibit the marriage."
+
+But she, answering, said: "Oh, let me to this recollection
+Yet one moment devote; for so much is due the good giver,
+Him who bestowed it at parting, and never came back to his kindred.
+All that should come he foresaw, when in haste the passion for freedom,
+When a desire in the newly changed order of things to be working,
+Urged him onward to Paris, where chains and death he encountered.
+'Fare thee well,' were his words; 'I go, for all is in motion
+Now for a time on the earth, and every thing seems to be parting.
+E'en in the firmest states fundamental laws are dissolving;
+Property falls away from the hand of the ancient possessor;
+Friend is parted from friend; and so parts lover from lover.
+Here I leave thee, and where I shall find thee again, or if ever,
+Who can tell? Perhaps these words are our last ones together.
+Man's but a stranger here on the earth, we are told and with reason;
+And we are each of us now become more of strangers than ever.
+Ours no more is the soil, and our treasures are all of them changing:
+Silver and gold are melting away from their time-honored patterns.
+All is in motion as though the already-shaped world into chaos
+Meant to resolve itself backward into night, and to shape itself over.
+Mine thou wilt keep thine heart, and should we be ever united
+Over the ruins of earth, it will be as newly made creatures,
+Beings transformed and free, no longer dependent on fortune;
+For can aught fetter the man who has lived through days such as these are!
+But if it is not to be, that, these dangers happily over,
+Ever again we be granted the bliss of mutual embraces,
+Oh, then before thy thoughts so keep my hovering image
+That with unshaken mind thou be ready for good or for evil!
+Should new ties allure thee again, and a new habitation,
+Enter with gratitude into the joys that fate shall prepare thee;
+Love those purely who love thee; be grateful to them who show kindness.
+But thine uncertain foot should yet be planted but lightly,
+For there is lurking the twofold pain of a new separation.
+Blessings attend thy life; but value existence no higher
+Than thine other possessions, and all possessions are cheating!'
+Thus spoke the noble youth, and never again I beheld him.
+Meanwhile I lost my all, and a thousand times thought of his warning.
+Here, too, I think of his words, when love is sweetly preparing
+Happiness for me anew, and glorious hopes are reviving.
+Oh, forgive me, excellent friend, that e'en while I hold thee
+Close to my side I tremble! So unto the late-landed sailor
+Seem the most solid foundations of firmest earth to be rocking."
+
+Thus she spoke, and placed the two rings on her finger together.
+But her lover replied with a noble and manly emotion:
+"So much the firmer then, amid these universal convulsions,
+Be, Dorothea, our union! We two will hold fast and continue,
+Firmly maintaining ourselves, and the right to our ample possessions.
+For that man, who, when times are uncertain, is faltering in spirit,
+Only increases the evil, and further and further transmits it;
+While he refashions the world, who keeps himself steadfastly minded.
+Poorly becomes it the German to give to these fearful excitements
+Aught of continuance, or to be this way and that way inclining.
+This is our own! let that be our word, and let us maintain it!
+For to those resolute peoples respect will be ever accorded,
+Who for God and the laws, for parents, women and children,
+Fought and died, as together they stood with their front to the foeman.
+Thou art mine own; and now what is mine, is mine more than ever.
+Not with anxiety will I preserve it, and trembling enjoyment;
+Rather with courage and strength. To-day should the enemy threaten,
+Or in the future, equip me thyself and hand me my weapons.
+Let me but know that under thy care are my house and dear parents,
+Oh! I can then with assurance expose my breast to the foeman.
+And were but every man minded like me, there would be an upspring
+Might against might, and peace should revisit us all with its gladness."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS
+
+BY ARTHUR H. PALMER, A.M., LL.D.
+
+Professor of German Language and Literature, Yale University
+
+To what literary genus does Goethe's _Iphigenia_ belongs? Dramatic in
+form, is it a drama? For A. W. Schlegel "an echo of Greek song," and
+for many German critics the best modern reproduction of Greek tragedy,
+it is for others a thoroughly German work in its substitution of
+profound moral struggles for the older passionate, more external
+conflicts. Schiller said: "It is, however, so astonishingly modern and
+un-Greek, that I cannot understand how it was ever thought to resemble
+a Greek play. It is purely moral; but the sensuous power, the life,
+the agitation, and everything which specifically belongs to a dramatic
+work is wanting." He adds, however, that it is a marvelous production
+which must forever remain the delight and wonderment of mankind. This
+is the view of G. H. Lewes, whose characterization is so apt also in
+other respects: "A drama it is not; it is a marvelous dramatic poem.
+The grand and solemn movement responds to the large and simple ideas
+which it unfolds. It has the calmness of majesty. In the limpid
+clearness of its language the involved mental processes of the
+characters are as transparent as the operations of bees within a
+crystal hive; while a constant strain of high and lofty music makes
+the reader feel as if in a holy temple. And above all witcheries of
+detail there is one capital witchery, belonging to Greek statues more
+than to other works of human cunning--the perfect unity of impression
+produced by the whole, so that nothing in it seems _made_, but all to
+_grow_; nothing is superfluous, but all is in organic dependence;
+nothing is there for detached effect, but the whole is effect. The
+poem fills the mind; beautiful as the separate passages are, admirers
+seldom think of passages, they think of the wondrous whole."
+
+But may we not deepen and spiritualize our conception of the drama and
+say that in _Iphigenia_, Goethe created a new dramatic genus, the
+soul-drama--the first psychological drama of modern literature, the
+result of ethical and artistic development through two milleniums?
+Surely a Greek dramatist of the first rank, come to life again in
+Goethe's age and entering into the heritage of this development, would
+have modernized both subject and form in the same way.
+
+Most intimate is the relation of _Iphigenia_ to Goethe's inner life,
+and this relation best illumines the spiritual import of the drama.
+Like his _Torquato Tasso_, it springs entirely from conditions and
+experiences of the early Weimar years and those just preceding. It was
+conceived and the first prose version written early in 1779; it
+received its final metrical form December, 1786--in Rome indeed, but
+it owed to Italy only a higher artistic finish.
+
+In his autobiography Goethe has revealed to us that his works are
+fragments of a great confession. Moods of his pre-Weimar storm and
+stress vibrate in his _Iphigenia_--feverish unrest, defiance of
+conventionality, Titanic trust in his individual genius,
+self-reproach, and remorse for guilt toward those he
+loved,--Friederike and Lili. Thus feeling his inner conflicts to be
+like the sufferings of Orestes, he wrote in a letter, August, 1775,
+shortly after returning to Frankfurt from his first Swiss journey:
+"Perhaps the invisible scourge of the Eumenides will soon drive me out
+again from my fatherland."
+
+In November, 1775, Goethe went to Weimar, and there he found
+redemption from his unrest and dejection in the friendship of Frau von
+Stein. Her beneficent influence effected his new-birth into calm
+self-control and harmony of spirit. On August 7, 1779, Goethe wrote in
+his diary: "May the idea of purity, extending even to the morsel I
+take into my mouth, become ever more luminous in me!" If Orestes is
+Goethe, Iphigenia is Frau von Stein; and in the personal sense the
+theme of the drama is the restoration of the poet to spiritual purity
+by the influence of noble womanhood.
+
+But there is a larger, universally human sense. Such healing of
+Orestes is typically human; noble womanhood best realizes the ideal of
+the truly human (_Humanität_). In a way that transcends understanding,
+one pure, strong human personality may by its influence restore moral
+vigor and bring peace and hope to other souls rent by remorse and sunk
+in despair. This Goethe himself expressed as the central thought of
+this drama in the lines:
+
+Alle menschlichen Gebrechen
+Sühnet reine Menschlichkeit
+
+(For each human fault and frailty
+Pure humanity atones).
+
+The eighteenth century's conception of "humanity," the ideal of the
+truly human, found two-fold classic, artistic expression in Germany at
+the same time; in Lessing's _Nathan the Wise_ and in Goethe's
+_Iphigenia in Tauris_, the former rationalistic, the latter broader,
+more subtle, mystical.
+
+
+IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS (1787)[33]
+
+
+A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS
+
+TRANSLATED BY ANNA SWANWICK
+
+Like _Torquato Tasso, Iphigenia_ was originally written in prose, and
+in that form was acted at the Weimar Court Theatre about 1779. Goethe
+himself took the part of Orestes.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
+
+
+IPHIGENIA.
+THOAS, _King of the Taurians_.
+ORESTES.
+PYLADES.
+ARKAS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT I
+
+SCENE I. _A Grove before the Temple of Diana_.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Beneath your leafy gloom, ye waving boughs
+Of this old, shady, consecrated grove,
+As in the goddess' silent sanctuary,
+With the same shuddering feeling forth I step,
+As when I trod it first, nor ever here
+Doth my unquiet spirit feel at home.
+Long as a higher will, to which I bow,
+Hath kept me here conceal'd, still, as at first,
+I feel myself a stranger. For the sea
+Doth sever me, alas! from those I love,
+And day by day upon the shore I stand,
+The land of Hellas seeking with my soul;
+But to my sighs, the hollow-sounding waves
+Bring, save their own hoarse murmurs, no reply.
+Alas for him! who friendless and alone,
+Remote from parents and from brethren dwells;
+From him grief snatches every coming joy
+Ere it doth reach his lip. His yearning thoughts
+Throng back for ever to his father's halls,
+Where first to him the radiant sun unclosed
+The gates of heav'n; where closer, day by day,
+Brothers and sisters, leagued in pastime sweet,
+Around each other twin'd love's tender bonds.
+I will not reckon with the gods; yet truly
+Deserving of lament is woman's lot.
+Man rules alike at home and in the field,
+Nor is in foreign climes without resource;
+Him conquest crowneth, him possession gladdens,
+And him an honorable death awaits.
+How circumscrib'd is woman's destiny!
+Obedience to a harsh, imperious lord,
+Her duty, and her comfort; sad her fate,
+Whom hostile fortune drives to lands remote!
+Thus Thoas holds me here, a noble man
+Bound with a heavy though a sacred chain.
+O how it shames me, goddess, to confess
+That with repugnance I perform these rites
+For thee, divine protectress! unto whom
+I would in freedom dedicate my life.
+In thee, Diana, I have always hoped,
+And still I hope in thee, who didst infold
+Within the holy shelter of thine arm
+The outcast daughter of the mighty king.
+Daughter of Jove! hast thou from ruin'd Troy
+Led back in triumph to his native land
+The mighty man, whom thou didst sore afflict,
+His daughter's life in sacrifice demanding,--
+Hast thou for him, the godlike Agamemnon,
+Who to thine altar led his darling child,
+Preserv'd his wife, Electra, and his son,
+His dearest treasures?--then at length restore
+Thy suppliant also to her friends and home,
+And save her, as thou once from death didst save,
+So now, from living here, a second death.
+
+[Illustration: IPHIGENIA Anselm Feuerbach]
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+IPHIGENIA, ARKAS
+
+
+ARKAS
+
+The king hath sent me hither, bade me greet
+With hail, and fair salute, Diana's priestess.
+For new and wondrous conquest, this the day,
+When to her goddess Tauris renders thanks.
+I hasten on before the king and host,
+Himself to herald, and its near approach.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+We are prepar'd to give them worthy greeting;
+Our goddess doth behold with gracious eye
+The welcome sacrifice from Thoas' hand.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Would that I also found the priestess' eye,
+Much honor'd, much revered one, found thine eye,
+O consecrated maid, more calm, more bright,
+To all a happy omen! Still doth grief,
+With gloom mysterious, shroud thy inner mind;
+Vainly, through many a tedious year we wait
+For one confiding utterance from thy breast.
+Long as I've known thee in this holy place,
+That look of thine hath ever made me shudder;
+And, as with iron bands, thy soul remains
+Lock'd in the deep recesses of thy breast.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+As doth become the exile and the orphan.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Dost thou then here seem exil'd and an orphan?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Can foreign scenes our fatherland replace?
+
+ARKAS
+
+Thy fatherland is foreign now to thee.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Hence is it that my bleeding heart ne'er heals.
+In early youth, when first my soul, in love,
+Held father, mother, brethren fondly twin'd,
+A group of tender germs, in union sweet,
+We sprang in beauty from the parent stem,
+And heavenward grew; alas, a foreign curse
+Then seized and sever'd me from those I loved,
+And wrench'd with iron grasp the beauteous bands
+It vanish'd then, the fairest charm of youth,
+The simple gladness of life's early dawn;
+Though sav'd I was a shadow of myself,
+And life's fresh joyance blooms in me no more.
+
+ARKAS
+
+If thou wilt ever call thyself unblest,
+I must accuse thee of ingratitude.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thanks have you ever.
+
+ARKAS
+
+               Not the honest thanks
+Which prompt the heart to offices of love;
+The joyous glance, revealing to the host
+A grateful spirit, with its lot content.
+When thee a deep mysterious destiny
+Brought to this sacred fane, long years ago,
+To greet thee, as a treasure sent from heaven,
+With reverence and affection, Thoas came.
+Benign and friendly was this shore to thee,
+To every stranger else with horror fraught,
+For, till thy coming, none e'er trod our realm
+But fell, according to an ancient rite,
+A bloody victim at Diana's shrine.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Freely to breathe alone is not to live.
+Say, is it life, within this holy fane,
+Like a poor ghost around its sepulchre
+To linger out my days? Or call you that
+A life of conscious happiness and joy,
+When every hour, dream'd listlessly away,
+Still leadeth onward to those gloomy days,
+Which the sad troop of the departed spend
+In self-forgetfulness on Lethe's shore?
+A useless life is but an early death;
+This woman's destiny hath still been mine.
+
+ARKAS
+
+I can forgive, though I must needs deplore,
+The noble pride which underrates itself;
+It robs thee of the happiness of life.
+But hast thou, since thy coming here, done naught?
+Who hath the monarch's gloomy temper cheered?
+Who hath with gentle eloquence annull'd,
+From year to year, the usage of our sires,
+By which, a victim at Diana's shrine,
+Each stranger perish'd, thus from certain death
+Sending so oft the rescued captive home?
+Hath not Diana, harboring no revenge
+For this suspension of her bloody rites,
+In richest measure heard thy gentle prayer?
+On joyous pinions o'er the advancing host,
+Doth not triumphant conquest proudly soar?
+And feels not every one a happier lot,
+Since Thoas, who so long hath guided us
+With wisdom and with valor, sway'd by thee.
+The joy of mild benignity approves,
+Which leads him to relax the rigid claims
+Of mute submission? Call thyself useless! Thou,
+When from thy being o'er a thousand hearts,
+A healing balsam flows? when to a race,
+To whom a god consign'd thee, thou dost prove
+A fountain of perpetual happiness,
+And from this dire inhospitable coast,
+Dost to the stranger grant a safe return?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The little done doth vanish to the mind,
+Which forward sees how much remains to do.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Him dost thou praise, who underrates his deeds?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Who weigheth his own deeds is justly blam'd.
+
+ARKAS
+
+He too, real worth too proudly who condemns,
+As who, too vainly, spurious worth o'er-rateth.
+Trust me, and heed the counsel of a man
+With honest zeal devoted to thy service:
+When Thoas comes to-day to speak with thee,
+Lend to his purposed words a gracious ear.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy well-intention'd counsel troubles me:
+His offer I have ever sought to shun.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Thy duty and thy interest calmly weigh.
+Sithence King Thoas lost his son and heir,
+Among his followers he trusts but few,
+And trusts those few no more as formerly.
+With jealous eye he views each noble's son
+As the successor of his realm, he dreads
+A solitary, helpless age--perchance
+Sudden rebellion and untimely death.
+A Scythian studies not the rules of speech,
+And least of all the king. He who is used
+To act and to command, knows not the art,
+From far, with subtle tact, to guide discourse
+Through many windings to its destin'd goal.
+Thwart not his purpose by a cold refusal,
+By an intended misconception. Meet,
+With gracious mien, half-way the royal wish.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Shall I then speed the doom that threatens me?
+
+ARKAS
+
+His gracious offer canst thou call a threat?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+'Tis the most terrible of all to me.
+
+ARKAS
+
+For his affection grant him confidence.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+If he will first redeem my soul from fear.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Why dost thou hide from him thy origin?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+A priestess secrecy doth well become.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Naught to a monarch should a secret be;
+And, though he doth not seek to fathom thine,
+His noble nature feels, ay, deeply feels,
+That thou with care dost hide thyself from him.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Ill-will and anger harbors he against me?
+
+ARKAS
+
+Almost it seems so. True, he speaks not of thee,
+But casual words have taught me that the wish
+Thee to possess hath firmly seiz'd his soul;
+O leave him not a prey unto himself,
+Lest his displeasure, rip'ning in his breast,
+Should work thee woe, so with repentance thou
+Too late my faithful counsel shalt recall.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How! doth the monarch purpose what no man
+Of noble mind, who loves his honest name,
+Whose bosom reverence for the gods restrains,
+Would ever think of? Will he force employ
+To drag me from the altar to his bed?
+Then will I call the gods, and chiefly thee,
+Diana, goddess resolute, to aid me;
+Thyself a virgin, wilt a virgin shield,
+And to thy priestess gladly render aid.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Be tranquil! Passion, and youth's fiery blood
+Impel not Thoas rashly to commit
+A deed so lawless. In his present mood,
+I fear from him another harsh resolve,
+Which (for his soul is steadfast and unmov'd)
+He then will execute without delay.
+Therefore I pray thee, canst thou grant no more;
+At least be grateful--give thy confidence.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oh tell me what is further known to thee.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Learn it from him. I see the king approach:
+Him thou dost honor, thine own heart enjoins
+To meet him kindly and with confidence.
+A man of noble mind may oft be led
+By woman's gentle word.
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+                           How to observe
+His faithful counsel see I not in sooth.
+But willingly the duty I perform
+Of giving thanks for benefits receiv'd,
+And much I wish that to the king my lips
+With truth could utter what would please his ear.
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Her royal gifts the goddess shower on thee
+Imparting conquest, wealth, and high renown
+Dominion, and the welfare of thy house,
+With the fulfilment of each pious wish,
+That thou, whose sway for multitudes provides,
+Thyself may'st be supreme in happiness!
+
+THOAS
+
+Contented were I with my people's praise;
+My conquests others more than I enjoy.
+Oh! be he king or subject, he's most blest;
+Whose happiness is centred in his home.
+My deep affliction thou didst share with me
+What time, in war's encounter, the fell sword
+Tore from my side my last, my dearest son;
+So long as fierce revenge possessed my heart,
+I did not feel my dwelling's dreary void;
+But now, returning home, my rage appeas'd,
+Their kingdom wasted, and my son aveng'd,
+I find there nothing left to comfort me.
+The glad obedience I was wont to see
+Kindling in every eye, is smother'd now
+In discontent and gloom; each, pondering, weighs
+The changes which a future day may bring,
+And serves the childless king, because he must.
+To-day I come within this sacred fane,
+Which I have often enter'd to implore
+And thank the gods for conquest. In my breast
+I bear an old and fondly-cherish'd wish,
+To which methinks thou canst not be a stranger;
+I hope, a blessing to myself and realm,
+To lead thee to my dwelling as my bride.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Too great thine offer, king, to one unknown;
+Abash'd the fugitive before thee stands,
+Who on this shore sought only what thou gavest,
+Safety and peace.
+
+THOAS
+
+                Thus still to shroud thyself
+From me, as from the lowest, in the veil
+Of mystery which wrapp'd thy coming here,
+Would in no country be deem'd just or right.
+Strangers this shore appall'd; 'twas so ordain'd,
+Alike by law and stern necessity.
+From thee alone--a kindly welcom'd guest,
+Who hast enjoy'd each hallow'd privilege,
+And spent thy days in freedom unrestrain'd--
+From thee I hop'd that confidence to gain
+Which every faithful host may justly claim.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+If I conceal'd, O king, my name, my race,
+It was embarrassment, and not mistrust.
+For didst thou know who stands before thee now,
+And what accursed head thine arm protects,
+Strange horror would possess thy mighty heart;
+And, far from wishing me to share thy throne,
+Thou, ere the time appointed, from thy realm
+Wouldst banish me; wouldst thrust me forth, perchance
+Before a glad reunion with my friends
+And period to my wand'rings is ordain'd,
+To meet that sorrow, which in every clime,
+With cold, inhospitable, fearful hand,
+Awaits the outcast, exil'd from his home.
+
+THOAS
+
+Whate'er respecting thee the gods decree,
+Whate'er their doom for thee and for thy house,
+Since thou hast dwelt amongst us, and enjoy'd
+The privilege the pious stranger claims,
+To me hath fail'd no blessing sent from heaven;
+And to persuade me, that protecting thee
+I shield a guilty head, were hard indeed.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy bounty, not the guest, draws blessings down.
+
+THOAS
+
+The kindness shown the wicked is not blest.
+End then thy silence, priestess; not unjust
+Is he who doth demand it. In my hands
+The goddess placed thee; thou hast been to me
+As sacred as to her, and her behest
+Shall for the future also be my law:
+If thou canst hope in safety to return
+Back to thy kindred, I renounce my claims:
+But is thy homeward path for ever closed--
+Or doth thy race in hopeless exile rove,
+Or lie extinguish'd by some mighty woe--
+Then may I claim thee by more laws than one.
+Speak openly, thou know'st I keep my word.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Its ancient bands reluctantly my tongue
+Doth loose, a long hid secret to divulge;
+For once imparted, it resumes no more
+The safe asylum of the inmost heart,
+But thenceforth, as the powers above decree,
+Doth work its ministry of weal or woe.
+Attend! I issue from the Titan's race.
+
+THOAS
+
+A word momentous calmly hast thou spoken.
+Him nam'st thou ancestor whom all the world
+Knows as a sometime favorite of the gods?
+Is it that Tantalus, whom Jove himself
+Drew to his council and his social board?
+On whose experienc'd words, with wisdom fraught,
+As on the language of an oracle,
+E'en gods delighted hung?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                       'Tis even he;
+But the immortal gods with mortal men
+Should not, on equal terms, hold intercourse;
+For all too feeble is the human race,
+Not to grow dizzy on unwonted heights.
+Ignoble was he not, and no betrayer;
+To be the Thunderer's slave, he was too great;
+To be his friend and comrade,--but a man.
+His crime was human, and their doom severe;
+For poets sing, that treachery and pride
+Did from Jove's table hurl him headlong down
+To grovel in the depths of Tartarus.
+Alas, and his whole race must bear their hate.
+
+THOAS
+
+Bear they their own guilt, or their ancestor's?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The Titan's mighty breast and nervous frame
+Was his descendants' certain heritage;
+But round their brow Jove forg'd a band of brass.
+Wisdom and patience, prudence and restraint,
+He from their gloomy, fearful eye conceal'd;
+In them each passion grew to savage rage,
+And headlong rush'd with violence uncheck'd.
+Already Pelops, Tantalus' loved son,
+Mighty of will, obtained his beauteous bride,
+Hippodamia, child of Oenomaus,
+Through treachery and murder; she ere long,
+To glad her consort's heart, bare him two sons,
+Thyest and Atreus. They with envy marked
+The ever-growing love their father bare
+To his first-born, sprung from another union.
+Hate leagued the pair, and secretly they wrought,
+In fratricide, the first dread crime. The sire
+Hippodamia held as murderess,
+With savage rage he claim'd from her his son,
+And she in terror did destroy herself--
+
+THOAS
+
+Thou'rt silent? Pause not in thy narrative;
+Repent not of thy confidence--say on!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How blest is he who his progenitors
+With pride remembers, to the listener tells
+The story of their greatness, of their deeds,
+And, silently rejoicing, sees himself
+The latest link of this illustrious chain!
+For seldom does the selfsame stock produce
+The monster and the demigod: a line
+Of good or evil ushers in, at last,
+The glory or the terror of the world.--
+After the death of Pelops, his two sons
+Rul'd o'er the city with divided sway.
+But such an union could not long endure.
+His brother's honor first Thyestes wounds.
+In vengeance Atreus drove him from the realm.
+Thyestes, planning horrors, long before
+Had stealthily procur'd his brother's son,
+Whom he in secret nurtur'd as his own.
+Revenge and fury in his breast he pour'd,
+Then to the royal city sent him forth,
+That in his uncle he might slay his sire.
+The meditated murder was disclos'd,
+And by the king most cruelly aveng'd,
+Who slaughter'd as he thought, his brother's son.
+Too late he learn'd whose dying tortures met
+His drunken gaze; and seeking to assuage
+The insatiate vengeance that possess'd his soul,
+He plann'd a deed unheard of. He assum'd
+A friendly tone, seem'd reconcil'd, appeas'd,
+And lur'd his brother, with his children twain,
+Back to his kingdom; these he seiz'd and slew;
+Then plac'd the loathsome and abhorrent food
+At his first meal before the unconscious sire.
+And when Thyestes had his hunger still'd
+With his own flesh, a sadness seiz'd his soul;
+He for his children ask'd,--their steps, their voice
+Fancied he heard already at the door;
+And Atreus, grinning with malicious joy,
+Threw in the members of the slaughter'd boys.--
+Shudd'ring, O king, thou dost avert thy face:
+So did the sun his radiant visage hide,
+And swerve his chariot from the eternal path.
+These, monarch, are thy priestess' ancestors,
+And many a dreadful fate of mortal doom,
+And many a deed of the bewilder'd brain,
+Dark night doth cover with her sable wing,
+Or shroud in gloomy twilight.
+
+THOAS
+
+                       Hidden there
+Let them abide. A truce to horror now,
+And tell me by what miracle thou sprangest
+From race so savage.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                    Atreus' eldest son
+Was Agamemnon; he, O king, my sire:
+But I may say with truth, that, from a child,
+In him the model of a perfect man
+I witness'd ever. Clytemnestra bore
+To him, myself, the firstling of their love,
+Electra then. Peaceful the monarch rul'd,
+And to the house of Tantalus was given
+A long-withheld repose. A son alone
+Was wanting to complete my parents' bliss;
+Scarce was this wish fulfill'd, and young Orestes,
+The household's darling, with his sisters grew,
+When new misfortunes vex'd our ancient house.
+To you hath come the rumor of the war,
+Which, to avenge the fairest woman's wrongs,
+The force united of the Grecian kings
+Round Ilion's walls encamp'd. Whether the town
+Was humbled, and achieved their great revenge,
+I have not heard. My father led the host.
+In Aulis vainly for a favoring gale
+They waited; for, enrag'd against their chief,
+Diana stay'd their progress, and requir'd,
+Through Chalcas' voice, the monarch's eldest daughter.
+They lured me with my mother to the camp,
+They dragged me to the altar, and this head
+There to the goddess doomed.--She was appeased;
+She did not wish my blood, and shrouded me
+In a protecting cloud; within this temple
+I first awakened from the dream of death;
+Yes, I myself am she, Iphigenia,
+Grandchild of Atreus, Agamemnon's child,
+Diana's priestess, I who speak with thee.
+
+THOAS
+
+I yield no higher honor or regard
+To the king's daughter than the maid unknown;
+Once more my first proposal I repeat;
+Come follow me, and share what I possess.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How dare I venture such a step, O king?
+Hath not the goddess who protected me
+Alone a right to my devoted head?
+'Twas she who chose for me this sanctuary,
+Where she perchance reserves me for my sire,
+By my apparent death enough chastis'd.
+To be the joy and solace of his age.
+Perchance my glad return is near; and how,
+If I, unmindful of her purposes,
+Had here attach'd myself against her will?
+I ask'd a signal, did she wish my stay.
+
+THOAS
+
+The signal is that still thou tarriest here.
+Seek not evasively such vain pretexts.
+Not many words are needed to refuse,
+The _no_ alone is heard by the refused.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Mine are not words meant only to deceive;
+I have to thee my inmost heart reveal'd.
+And doth no inward voice suggest to thee,
+How I with yearning soul must pine to see
+My father, mother, and my long-lost home?
+Oh let thy vessels bear me thither, king?
+That in the ancient halls, where sorrow still
+In accents low doth fondly breathe my name,
+Joy, as in welcome of a new-born child,
+May round the columns twine the fairest wreath.
+New life thou wouldst to me and mine impart.
+
+THOAS
+
+Then go! Obey the promptings of thy heart;
+And to the voice of reason and good counsel,
+Close thou thine ear. Be quite the woman, give
+To every wish the rein, that brideless
+May seize on thee, and whirl thee here and there.
+When burns the fire of passion in her breast,
+No sacred tie withholds her from the wretch
+Who would allure her to forsake for him
+A husband's or a father's guardian arms;
+Extinct within her heart its fiery glow,
+The golden tongue of eloquence in vain
+With words of truth and power assails her ear.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Remember now, O king, thy noble words!
+My trust and candor wilt thou thus repay?
+Thou seem'st, methinks, prepar'd to hear the truth.
+
+THOAS
+
+For this unlook'd-for answer not prepar'd.
+Yet 'twas to be expected; knew I not
+That with a woman I had now to deal?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Upbraid not thus, O king, our feeble sex!
+Though not in dignity to match with yours,
+The weapons woman wields are not ignoble.
+And trust me, Thoas, in thy happiness
+I have a deeper insight than thyself.
+Thou thinkest, ignorant alike of both,
+A closer union would augment our bliss;
+Inspir'd with confidence and honest zeal
+Thou strongly urgest me to yield consent;
+And here I thank the gods, who give me strength
+To shun a doom unratified by them.
+
+THOAS
+
+'Tis not a god, 'tis thine own heart that speaks.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+'Tis through the heart alone they speak to us.
+
+THOAS
+
+To hear them have I not an equal right?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The raging tempest drowns the still small voice.
+
+THOAS
+
+This voice no doubt the priestess hears alone.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Before all others should the prince attend it.
+
+THOAS
+
+Thy sacred office, and ancestral right
+To Jove's own table, place thee with the gods
+In closer union than an earth-born savage.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thus must I now the confidence atone
+Thyself didst wring from me!
+
+THOAS
+
+                              I am a man.
+And better 'tis we end this conference.
+Hear then my last resolve. Be priestess still
+Of the great goddess who selected thee;
+And may she pardon me, that I from her,
+Unjustly and with secret self-reproach,
+Her ancient sacrifice so long withheld.
+From olden time no stranger near'd our shore
+But fell a victim at her sacred shrine.
+But thou, with kind affection (which at times
+Seem'd like a gentle daughter's tender love,
+At times assum'd to my enraptur'd heart
+The modest inclination of a bride),
+Didst so inthral me, as with magic bowls,
+That I forgot my duty. Thou didst rock
+My senses in a dream: I did not hear
+My people's murmurs: now they cry aloud,
+Ascribing my poor son's untimely death
+To this my guilt. No longer for thy sake
+Will I oppose the wishes of the crowd,
+Who urgently demand the sacrifice.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+For mine own sake I ne'er desired it from thee.
+Who to the gods ascribe a thirst for blood
+Do misconceive their nature, and impute
+To them their own inhuman dark desires.
+Did not Diana snatch me from the priest,
+Holding my service dearer than my death?
+
+THOAS
+
+'Tis not for us, on reason's shifting grounds,
+Lightly to guide and construe rites divine.
+Perform thy duty; I'll accomplish mine.
+Two strangers, whom in caverns of the shore
+We found conceal'd, and whose arrival here
+Bodes to my realm no good, are in my power.
+With them thy goddess may once more resume
+Her ancient, pious, long-suspended rites!
+I send them here,--thy duty not unknown.
+                                  [_Exit_.]
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+Gracious protectress! thou hast clouds
+To shelter innocence distress'd,
+And from the arms of iron fate,
+Gently to waft her o'er the sea,
+O'er the wide earth's remotest realms,
+Where'er it seemeth good to thee.
+Wise art thou,--thine all-seeing eye
+The future and the past surveys;
+Thy glance doth o'er thy children rest,
+E'en as thy light, the life of night,
+Keeps o'er the earth its silent watch.
+O Goddess! keep my hands from blood!
+Blessing it never brings, and peace;
+And still in evil hours the form
+Of the chance-murder'd man appears
+To fill the unwilling murderer's soul
+With horrible and gloomy fears.
+For fondly the Immortals view
+Man's widely scatter'd simple race;
+And the poor mortal's transient life
+Gladly prolong, that he may lift
+Awhile to their eternal heavens
+His sympathetic joyous gaze.
+
+
+ACT II
+
+SCENE I
+
+ORESTES, PYLADES
+
+
+ORESTES
+
+It is the path of death that now we tread
+At every step my soul grows more serene.
+When I implor'd Apollo to remove
+The grisly band of Furies from my side,
+He seem'd, with hope-inspiring, godlike words,
+To promise aid and safety in the fane
+Of his lov'd sister, who o'er Tauris rules.
+Thus the prophetic word fulfils itself,
+That with my life shall terminate my woe.
+How easy 'tis for me, whose heart is crush'd,
+Whose sense is deaden'd by a hand divine,
+Thus to renounce the beauteous light of day!
+And must the son of Atreus not entwine
+The wreath of conquest round his dying brow--
+Must I, as my forefathers, as my sire,
+Bleed like a victim,--an ignoble death--
+So be it! Better at the altar here,
+Than in a nook obscure, where kindred hands
+Have spread assassination's wily net.
+Yield me this brief repose, infernal Powers!
+Ye, who, like loosen'd hounds, still scent the blood
+Which, trickling from my feet, betrays my path.
+Leave me! ere long I come to you below.
+Nor you, nor I, should view the light of day.
+The soft green carpet of the beauteous earth
+Is no arena for unhallow'd fiends.
+Below I seek you, where an equal fate
+Binds all in murky, never-ending night.
+Thee only, thee, my Pylades, my friend,
+The guiltless partner of my crime and curse,
+Thee am I loath, before thy time, to take
+To yonder cheerless shore! Thy life or death
+Alone awakens in me hope or fear.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Like thee, Orestes, I am not prepared
+Downwards to wander to yon realm of shade.
+I purpose still, through the entangled paths,
+Which seem as they would lead to blackest night,
+Again to wind our upward way to life.
+Of death I think not; I observe and mark
+Whether the gods may not perchance present
+Means and fit moment for a joyful flight.
+Dreaded or not, the stroke of death must come;
+And though the priestess stood with hand uprais'd,
+Prepar'd to cut our consecrated locks,
+Our safety still should be my only thought;
+Uplift thy soul above this weak despair;
+Desponding doubts but hasten on our peril.
+Apollo pledg'd to us his sacred word,
+That in his sister's holy fane for thee
+Were comfort, aid, and glad return prepar'd.
+The words of Heaven are not equivocal,
+As in despair the poor oppress'd one thinks.
+
+ORESTES
+
+The mystic web of life my mother cast
+Around my infant head, and so I grew
+An image of my sire; and my mute look
+Was aye a bitter and a keen reproof
+To her and base Ægisthus. Oh, how oft,
+When silently within our gloomy hall
+Electra sat, and mus'd beside the fire,
+Have I with anguish'd spirit climb'd her knee,
+And watch'd her bitter tears with sad amaze!
+Then would she tell me of our noble sire
+How much I long'd to see him--be with him!
+Myself at Troy one moment fondly wish'd,
+My sire's return, the next. The day arrived--
+
+PYLADES
+
+Oh, of that awful hour let fiends of hell
+Hold nightly converse! Of a time more fair
+May the remembrance animate our hearts
+To fresh heroic deeds. The gods require
+On this wide earth the service of the good,
+To work their pleasure. Still they count on thee;
+For in thy father's train they sent thee not,
+When he to Orcus went unwilling down.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Would I had seized the border of his robe,
+And followed him!
+
+PYLADES
+
+                  They kindly cared for me
+Who held thee here; for hadst thou ceased to live,
+I know not what had then become of me;
+Since I with thee, and for thy sake alone,
+Have from my childhood liv'd, and wish to live.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Remind me not of those delightsome days,
+When me thy home a safe asylum gave;
+With fond solicitude thy noble sire
+The half-nipp'd, tender flow'ret gently rear'd:
+While thou, a friend and playmate always gay,
+Like to a light and brilliant butterfly
+Around a dusky flower, didst day by day
+Around me with new life thy gambols urge,
+And breathe thy joyous spirit in my soul,
+Until, my cares forgetting, I with thee
+Was lur'd to snatch the eager joys of youth.
+
+PYLADES
+
+My very life began when thee I lov'd.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Say, then thy woes began, and thou speak'st truly.
+This is the sharpest sorrow of my lot,
+That, like a plague-infected wretch, I bear
+Death and destruction hid within my breast;
+That, where I tread, e'en on the healthiest spot,
+Ere long the blooming faces round betray
+The anguish'd features of a ling'ring death.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Were thy breath venom, I had been the first
+To die, that death, Orestes. Am I not,
+As ever, full of courage and of joy?
+And love and courage are the spirit's wings
+Wafting to noble actions.
+
+ORESTES
+
+                         Noble actions?
+Time was, when fancy painted such before us!
+When oft, the game pursuing, on we roam'd
+O'er hill and valley; hoping that ere long,
+Like our great ancestors in heart and hand,
+With club and weapon arm'd, we so might track
+The robber to his den, or monster huge.
+And then at twilight, by the boundless sea,
+Peaceful we sat, reclin'd against each other,
+The waves came dancing to our very feet,
+And all before us lay the wide, wide world;
+Then on a sudden one would seize his sword,
+And future deeds shone round us like the stars,
+Which gemm'd in countless throngs the vault of night.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Endless, my friend, the projects which the soul
+Burns to accomplish. We would every deed
+At once perform as grandly as it shows
+After long ages, when from land to land
+The poet's swelling song hath roll'd it on.
+It sounds so lovely what our fathers did,
+When, in the silent evening shade reclin'd,
+We drink it in with music's melting tones;
+And what we do is, as their deeds to them,
+Toilsome and incomplete!
+Thus we pursue what always flies before;
+We disregard the path in which we tread,
+Scarce see around the footsteps of our sires,
+Or heed the trace of their career on earth.
+We ever hasten on to chase their shades,
+Which, godlike, at a distance far remote,
+On golden clouds, the mountain summits crown.
+The man I prize not who esteems himself
+Just as the people's breath may chance to raise him.
+But thou, Orestes, to the gods give thanks.
+That they through thee have early done so much.
+
+ORESTES
+
+When they ordain a man to noble deeds,
+To shield from dire calamity his friends,
+Extend his empire, or protect its bounds,
+Or put to flight its ancient enemies,
+Let him be grateful! For to him a god
+Imparts the first, the sweetest joy of life.
+Me have they doom'd to be a slaughterer,
+To be an honor'd mother's murderer,
+And shamefully a deed of shame avenging,
+Me through their own decree they have o'erwhelm'd.
+Trust me, the race of Tantalus is doom'd;
+And I, his last descendant, may not perish,
+Or crown'd with honor or unstain'd by crime.
+
+PYLADES
+
+The gods avenge not on the son the deeds
+Done by the father. Each, or good or bad,
+Of his own actions reaps the due reward.
+The parents' blessing, not their curse, descends.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Methinks their blessing did not lead us here.
+
+PYLADES
+
+It was at least the mighty gods' decree.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Then is it their decree which doth destroy us.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Perform what they command, and wait the event.
+Do thou Apollo's sister bear from hence,
+That they at Delphi may united dwell,
+There by a noble-thoughted race revered,
+Thee, for this deed, the lofty pair will view
+With gracious eye, and from the hateful grasp
+Of the infernal Powers will rescue thee.
+E'en now none dares intrude within this grove.
+
+ORESTES
+
+So shall I die at least a peaceful death.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Far other are my thoughts, and not unskill'd
+Have I the future and the past combin'd
+In quiet meditation. Long, perchance,
+Hath ripen'd in the counsel of the gods
+The great event. Diana yearns to leave
+The savage coast of these barbarians,
+Foul with their sacrifice of human blood.
+We were selected for the high emprize;
+To us it is assign'd, and strangely thus
+We are conducted to the threshold here.
+
+ORESTES
+
+My friend, with wondrous skill thou link'st thy wish
+With the predestin'd purpose of the gods.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Of what avail is prudence, if it fail
+Heedful to mark the purposes of Heaven!
+A noble man, who much hath sinn'd, some god
+Doth summon to a dangerous enterprize,
+Which to achieve appears impossible.
+The hero conquers, and atoning serves
+Mortals and gods, who thenceforth honor him.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Am I foredoom'd to action and to life,
+Would that a god from my distemper'd brain
+Might chase this dizzy fever, which impels
+My restless steps along a slipp'ry path.
+Stain'd with a mother's blood, to direful death;
+And pitying, dry the fountain, whence the blood,
+For ever spouting from a mother's wounds,
+Eternally defiles me!
+
+PYLADES
+
+                         Wait in peace!
+Thou dost increase the evil, and dost take
+The office of the Furies on thyself.
+Let me contrive,--be still! And when at length
+The time for action claims our powers combin'd,
+Then will I summon thee, and on we'll stride,
+With cautious boldness to achieve the event.
+
+ORESTES
+
+I hear Ulysses speak.
+
+PYLADES
+
+                Nay, mock me not.
+Each must select the hero after whom
+To climb the steep and difficult ascent
+Of high Olympus. And to me it seems
+That him nor stratagem nor art defiles
+Who consecrates himself to noble deeds.
+
+ORESTES
+
+I most esteem the brave and upright man.
+
+PYLADES
+
+And therefore have I not desir'd thy counsel.
+One step's already taken. From our guards
+E'en now I this intelligence have gained.
+A strange and godlike woman holds in check
+The execution of that bloody law
+Incense, and prayer, and an unsullied heart,
+These are the gifts she offers to the gods.
+Rumor extols her highly, it is thought
+That from the race of Amazon she springs,
+And hither fled some great calamity.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Her gentle sway, it seems, lost all its power
+When hither came the culprit, whom the curse,
+Like murky night, envelops and pursues.
+Our doom to seal, the pious thirst for blood
+The ancient cruel rite again unchains
+The monarch's savage will decrees our death;
+A woman cannot save when he condemns.
+
+PYLADES
+
+That 'tis a woman, is a ground for hope!
+A man, the very best, with cruelty
+At length may so familiarize his mind,
+His character through custom so transform,
+That he shall come to make himself a law
+Of what at first his very soul abhorr'd.
+But woman doth retain the stamp of mind
+She first assum'd. On her we may depend
+In good or evil with more certainty.
+She comes; leave us alone. I dare not tell
+At once our names, nor unreserv'd confide
+Our fortunes to her. Now retire awhile,
+And ere she speaks with thee we'll meet again.
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+IPHIGENIA, PYLADES
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Whence art thou? Stranger, speak! To me thy bearing
+Stamps thee of Grecian, not of Scythian race.
+
+[_She unbinds his chains_.]
+
+The freedom that I give is dangerous;
+The gods avert the doom that threatens you!
+
+PYLADES
+
+Delicious music! dearly welcome tones
+Of our own language in a foreign land
+With joy my captive eye once more beholds
+The azure mountains of my native coast.
+Oh, let this joy that I, too, am a Greek
+Convince thee, priestess! How I need thine aid,
+A moment I forget, my spirit rapt
+In contemplation of so fair a vision.
+If fate's dread mandate doth not seal thy lips,
+From which of our illustrious races say,
+Dost thou thy godlike origin derive?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The priestess whom the goddess hath herself
+Selected and ordained, doth speak with thee.
+Let that suffice: but tell me, who art thou,
+And what unbless'd o'erruling destiny
+Hath hither led thee with thy friend?
+
+PYLADES
+
+                             The woe,
+Whose hateful presence ever dogs our steps,
+I can with ease relate. Oh, would that thou
+Couldst with like ease, divine one, shed on us
+One ray of cheering hope! We are from Crete,
+Adrastus' sons, and I, the youngest born,
+Named Cephalus; my eldest brother, he,
+Laodamas. Between us stood a youth
+Savage and wild, who severed e'en in sport
+The joy and concord of our early youth.
+Long as our father led his powers at Troy,
+Passive our mother's mandate we obey'd;
+But when, enrich'd with booty, he return'd,
+And shortly after died, a contest fierce
+Both for the kingdom and their father's wealth,
+His children parted. I the eldest joined;
+He slew our brother; and the Furies hence
+For kindred murder dog his restless steps.
+But to this savage shore the Delphian god
+Hath sent us, cheer'd by hope. He bade us wait
+Within his sister's consecrated fane
+The blessed hand of aid. Captives we are,
+And, hither brought, before thee now we stand
+Ordain'd for sacrifice. My tale is told.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Fell Troy! Dear man, assure me of its fall.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Prostrate it lies. O unto us ensure
+Deliverance. The promised aid of Heaven
+More swiftly bring. Take pity on my brother.
+O say to him a kind, a gracious word;
+But spare him when thou speakest, earnestly
+This I implore: for all too easily
+Through joy and sorrow and through memory
+Torn and distracted is his inmost being.
+A feverish madness oft doth seize on him,
+Yielding his spirit, beautiful and free,
+A prey to furies.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+               Great as is thy woe,
+Forget it, I conjure thee, for a while,
+Till I am satisfied.
+
+PYLADES
+
+                    The stately town,
+Which ten long years withstood the Grecian host,
+Now lies in ruins, ne'er to rise again;
+Yet many a hero's grave will oft recall
+Our sad remembrance to that barbarous shore.
+There lies Achilles and his noble friend.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+So are ye godlike forms reduc'd to dust!
+
+PYLADES
+
+Nor Palamede, nor Ajax, ere again
+The daylight of their native land beheld.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+He speaks not of my father, doth not name
+Him with the fallen. He may yet survive!
+I may behold him! still hope on, fond heart!
+
+PYLADES
+
+Yet happy are the thousands who receiv'd
+Their bitter death-blow from a hostile hand!
+For terror wild, and end most tragical.
+Some hostile, angry deity prepar'd,
+Instead of triumph, for the home-returning.
+Do human voices never reach this shore?
+Far as their sound extends, they bear the fame
+Of deeds unparallel'd. And is the woe
+Which fills Mycene's halls with ceaseless sighs
+To thee a secret still?--And know'st thou not
+That Clytemnestra, with Ægisthus' aid,
+Her royal consort artfully ensnar'd,
+And murder'd on the day of his return?--
+The monarch's house thou honorest! I perceive.
+Thy breast with tidings vainly doth contend
+Fraught with such monstrous and unlook'd for woe.
+Art thou the daughter of a friend? Art born
+Within the circuit of Mycene's walls?
+Conceal it not, nor call me to account
+That here the horrid crime I first announce.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Proceed, and tell me how the deed was done.
+
+PYLADES
+
+The day of his return, as from the bath
+Arose the monarch, tranquil and refresh'd,
+His robe demanding from his consort's hand,
+A tangled garment, complicate with folds,
+She o'er his shoulders flung and noble head;
+And when, as from a net, he vainly strove
+To extricate himself, the traitor, base
+Ægisthus, smote him, and envelop'd thus
+Great Agamemnon sought the shades below.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+And what reward receiv'd the base accomplice?
+
+PYLADES
+
+A queen and kingdom he possess'd already.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Base passion prompted then the deed of shame?
+
+PYLADES
+
+And feelings, cherish'd long, of deep revenge.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How had the monarch injured Clytemnestra?
+
+PYLADES
+
+By such a dreadful deed, that if on earth
+Aught could exculpate murder, it were this.
+To Aulis he allur'd her, when the fleet
+With unpropitious winds the goddess stay'd;
+And there, a victim at Diana's shrine,
+The monarch, for the welfare of the Greeks,
+Her eldest daughter doomed, Iphigenia.
+And this, so rumor saith, within her heart
+Planted such deep abhorrence that forthwith
+She to Ægisthus hath resigned herself,
+And round her husband flung the web of death.
+
+IPHIGENIA (_veiling herself_)
+
+It is enough! Thou wilt again behold me.
+
+PYLADES (_alone_)
+
+The fortune of this royal house, it seems,
+Doth move her deeply. Whosoe'er she be,
+She must herself have known the monarch well;--
+For our good fortune, from a noble house,
+She hath been sold to bondage. Peace, my heart!
+And let us steer our course with prudent zeal
+Toward the star of hope which gleams upon us.
+
+
+ACT III
+
+SCENE I
+
+IPHIGENIA, ORESTES
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Unhappy man, I only loose thy bonds
+In token of a still severer doom.
+The freedom which the sanctuary imparts,
+Like the last life-gleam o'er the dying face,
+But heralds death. I cannot, dare not, say
+Your doom is hopeless; for, with murderous hand,
+Could I inflict the fatal blow myself?
+And while I here am priestess of Diana,
+None, be he who he may, dare touch your heads.
+But the incensed king, should I refuse
+Compliance with the rites himself enjoin'd,
+Will choose another virgin from my train
+As my successor. Then, alas! with naught,
+Save ardent wishes, can I succor you.
+Much honored countrymen! The humblest slave,
+Who had but near'd our sacred household hearth,
+Is dearly welcome in a foreign land;
+How with proportion'd joy and blessing, then,
+Shall I receive the man who doth recall
+The image of the heroes, whom I learn'd
+To honor from my parents, and who cheers
+My inmost heart with flatt'ring gleams of hope!
+
+ORESTES
+
+Does prudent forethought prompt thee to conceal
+Thy name and race? or may I hope to know
+Who, like a heavenly vision, meets me thus?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Yes, thou shalt know me. Now conclude the tale
+Of which thy brother only told me half
+Relate their end, who coming home from Troy,
+On their own threshold met a doom severe
+And most unlook'd for. Young I was in sooth
+When first conducted to this foreign shore,
+Yet well I recollect the timid glance
+Of wonder and amazement which I cast
+On those heroic forms. When they went forth
+It seem'd as though Olympus had sent down
+The glorious figures of a bygone world,
+To frighten Ilion; and above them all,
+Great Agamemnon tower'd preeminent!
+Oh, tell me! Fell the hero in his home,
+Through Clytemnestra's and Ægisthus' wiles?
+
+ORESTES
+
+He fell!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+           Unblest Mycene! Thus the sons
+Of Tantalus, with barbarous hands, have sown
+Curse upon curse; and, as the shaken weed
+Scatters around a thousand poison-seeds,
+So they assassins ceaseless generate,
+Their children's children ruthless to destroy.--
+Now tell the remnant of thy brother's tale,
+Which horror darkly hid from me before.
+How did the last descendant of the race,--
+The gentle child, to whom the Gods assign'd
+The office of avenger,--how did he
+Escape that day of blood? Did equal fate
+Around Orestes throw Avernus' net
+Say, was he saved? and is he still alive?
+And lives Electra, too?
+
+ORESTES
+
+They both survive.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Golden Apollo, lend thy choicest beams!
+Lay them an offering at the throne of Jove!
+For I am poor and dumb.
+
+ORESTES
+
+                         If social bonds
+Or ties more close connect thee with this house,
+As this thy rapturous joy betrayeth to me,
+O then rein in thy heart and hold it fast!
+For insupportable the sudden plunge
+From happiness to sorrow's gloomy depth.
+Thou knowest only Agamemnon's death.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+And is not this intelligence enough?
+
+ORESTES
+
+Half of the horror only hast thou heard.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+What should I fear'? Orestes, Electra lives.
+
+ORESTES
+
+And fearest thou for Clytemnestra naught?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Her, neither hope nor fear have power to save.
+
+ORESTES
+
+She to the land of hope hath bid farewell.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Did her repentant hand shed her own blood?
+
+ORESTES
+
+Not so; yet her own blood inflicted death.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+More plainly speak, nor leave me in suspense.
+Uncertainty around my anxious head
+Her dusky, thousand-folded pinion waves.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Have then the powers above selected me
+To be the herald of a dreadful deed,
+Which in the drear and soundless realms of night
+I fain would hide for ever? 'Gainst my will
+Thy gentle voice constrains me; it demands,
+And shall receive, a tale of direst woe.
+Electra, on the day when fell her sire,
+Her brother from impending doom conceal'd;
+Him Strophius, his father's relative,
+Receiv'd with kindest care, and rear'd him up
+With his own son, named Pylades, who soon
+Around the stranger twin'd love's fairest bonds.
+And as they grew, within their inmost souls
+There sprang the burning longing to revenge
+The monarch's death. Unlook'd for, and disguis'd,
+They reach Mycene, feigning to have brought
+The mournful tidings of Orestes' death,
+Together with his ashes. Them the queen
+Gladly receives. Within the house they enter;
+Orestes to Electra shows himself:
+She fans the fires of vengeance into flame,
+Which in the sacred presence of a mother
+Had burn'd more dimly. Silently she leads
+Her brother to the spot where fell their sire;
+Where lurid blood-marks, on the oft-wash'd floor,
+With pallid streaks, anticipate revenge.
+With fiery eloquence she pictured forth
+Each circumstance of that atrocious deed,
+Her own oppress'd and miserable life,
+The prosperous traitor's insolent demeanor,
+The perils threat'ning Agamemnon's race
+From her who had become their stepmother,
+Then in his hand the ancient dagger thrust,
+Which often in the house of Tantalus
+With savage fury rag'd,--and by her son
+Was Clytemnestra slain.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                    Immortal powers!
+Whose pure and blest existence glides away
+'Mid ever shifting clouds, me have ye kept
+So many years secluded from the world,
+Retain'd me near yourselves, consign'd to me
+The childlike task to feed the sacred fire,
+And taught my spirit, like the hallow'd flame,
+With never-clouded brightness to aspire
+To your pure mansions,--but at length to feel
+With keener woe the horror of my house?
+O tell me of the poor unfortunate!
+Speak of Orestes!
+
+ORESTES
+
+O could I speak to tell thee of his death!
+Forth from the slain one's spouting blood arose
+His mother's ghost;
+And to the ancient daughters of the night
+Cries,--"Let him not escape,--the matricide!
+Pursue the victim, dedicate to you!"
+They hear, and glare around with hollow eyes,
+Like greedy eagles. In their murky dens
+They stir themselves, and from the corners creep
+Their comrades, dire Remorse and pallid Fear;
+Before them fumes a mist of Acheron;
+Perplexingly around the murderer's brow
+The eternal contemplation of the past
+Rolls in its cloudy circles. Once again
+The grisly band, commission'd to destroy,
+Pollute earth's beautiful and heaven-sown fields,
+From which an ancient curse had banish'd them.
+Their rapid feet the fugitive pursue;
+They only pause to start a wilder fear.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Unhappy one; thy lot resembles his,
+Thou feel'st what he, poor fugitive, must suffer.
+
+ORESTES
+
+What say'st thou? why presume my fate like his?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+A brother's murder weighs upon thy soul;
+Thy younger brother told the mournful tale.
+
+ORESTES
+
+I cannot suffer that thy noble soul
+Should by a word of falsehood be deceived.
+In cunning rich and practised in deceit
+A web ensnaring let the stranger weave
+To snare the stranger's feet; between us twain
+Be truth!
+I am Orestes! and this guilty head
+Is stooping to the tomb, and covets death;
+It will be welcome now in any shape.
+Whoe'er thou art, for thee and for my friend
+I wish deliverance--I desire it not.
+Thou seem'st to linger here against thy will;
+Contrive some means of flight, and leave me here
+My lifeless corpse hurl'd headlong from the rock,
+My blood shall mingle with the dashing waves,
+And bring a curse upon this barbarous shore!
+Return together home to lovely Greece,
+With joy a new existence to commence.
+
+[ORESTES _retires_.]
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+At length Fulfilment, fairest child of Jove,
+Thou dost descend upon me from on high!
+How vast thine image! Scarce my straining eye
+Can reach thy hands, which, fill'd with golden fruit
+And wreaths of blessing, from Olympus' height
+Shower treasures down. As by his bounteous gifts
+We recognize the monarch (for what seems
+To thousands opulence, is naught to him),
+So you, ye heavenly Powers, are also known
+By bounty long withheld, and wisely plann'd.
+Ye only know what things are good for us;
+Ye view the future's wide-extended realm,
+While from our eye a dim or starry veil
+ The prospect shrouds. Calmly ye hear our prayers,
+When we like children sue for greater speed.
+Not immature ye pluck heaven's golden fruit;
+And woe to him, who with impatient hand,
+His date of joy forestalling, gathers death.
+Let not this long-awaited happiness,
+Which yet my heart hath scarcely realiz'd,
+Like to the shadow of departed friends,
+Glide vainly by with triple sorrow fraught!
+
+ORESTES (_returning_)
+
+Dost thou for Pylades and for thyself
+Implore the gods, blend not my name with yours;
+Thou wilt not save the wretch whom thou wouldst join,
+But will participate his curse and woe.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+My destiny is firmly bound to thine.
+
+ORESTES
+
+No; say not so: alone and unattended
+Let me descend to Hades. Though thou shouldst
+In thine own veil enwrap the guilty one,
+Thou couldst not shroud him from his wakeful foes;
+And e'en thy sacred presence, heavenly maid,
+But driveth them aside and scares them not.
+With brazen, impious feet they dare not tread
+Within the precincts of this sacred grove
+Yet in the distance, ever and anon,
+I hear their horrid laughter, like the howl
+Of famish'd wolves, beneath the tree wherein
+The traveler hides. Without, encamp'd they lie,
+And should I quit this consecrated grove,
+Shaking their serpent locks, they would arise,
+And, raising clouds of dust on every side,
+Ceaseless pursue their miserable prey.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Orestes, canst thou hear a friendly word
+
+ORESTES
+
+Reserve it for one favor'd by the gods.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+To thee they give anew the light of hope.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Through clouds and smoke I see the feeble gleam
+Of the death-stream which lights me down to hell.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Hast thou one sister only, thy Electra?
+
+ORESTES
+
+I knew but one: yet her kind destiny,
+Which seemed to us so terrible, betimes
+Removed an elder sister from the woe
+Which o'er the house of Pelops aye impends.
+O cease thy questions, nor thus league thyself
+With the Erinnys; still they blow away,
+With fiendish joy, the ashes from my soul,
+Lest the last embers of the fiery brand
+The fatal heritage of Pelops' house,
+Should there be quenched. Must then the fire for aye,
+Deliberately kindled and supplied
+With hellish sulphur, sear my tortured soul!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I scatter fragrant incense in the flame.
+O let the pure, the gentle breath of love,
+Low murmuring, cool thy bosom's fiery glow.
+Orestes, fondly lov'd,--canst thou not hear me?
+Hath the terrific Furies' grisly band
+Dried up the blood of life within thy veins?
+Creeps there, as from the Gorgon's direful head,
+A petrifying charm through all thy limbs?
+With hollow accents from a mother's blood,
+If voices call thee to the shades below,
+May not a sister's word with blessing rife
+Call from Olympus' height help-rendering gods?
+
+ORESTES
+
+She calls! she calls!--Dost thou desire my doom?
+Is there a Fury shrouded in thy form?
+Who art thou, that thy voice thus horribly
+Can harrow up my bosom's inmost depths!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thine inmost heart reveals it. I am she,--
+Iphigenia,--look on me, Orestes!
+
+ORESTES
+
+Thou!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+My own brother!
+
+ORESTES
+
+                       Hence, away, begone!
+I counsel thee, touch not these fatal locks!
+As from Creusa's bridal robe, from me
+An inextinguishable fire is kindled.
+Leave me! Like Hercules, a death of shame,
+Unworthy wretch, locked in myself, I'll die!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thou shalt not perish! Would that I might hear
+One quiet word from thee! dispel my doubts,
+Make sure the bliss I have implored so long.
+A wheel of joy and sorrow in my heart,
+Ceaseless revolves. I from a man unknown
+With horror turn; but with resistless might
+My inmost heart impels me to my brother.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Is this Lyæus' temple? Doth the glow
+Of holy rage unbridled thus possess
+The sacred priestess?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                        Hear me, oh, look up!
+See how my heart, which hath been closed so long
+Doth open to the bliss of seeing thee,
+The dearest treasure that the world contains,--
+Of falling on thy neck, and folding thee
+Within my longing arms, which have till now
+Met the embraces of the empty wind.
+Do not repulse me,--the eternal spring,
+Whose crystal waters from Parnassus flow,
+Bounds not more gaily on from rock to rock,
+Down to the golden vale, than from my heart
+The waters of affection freely gush,
+And round me form a circling sea of bliss.
+Orestes! O my brother!
+
+ORESTES
+
+                         Lovely nymph!
+Nor thy caresses, nor thyself I trust;
+Diana claims attendants more severe,
+And doth avenge her desecrated fane.
+Remove thy circling arm! Wilt thou indeed
+Safety and love upon a youth bestow,
+And fondly tender him earth's fairest joy
+Unto my friend, more worthy than myself,
+Impart thy favors; 'mong yon rocks he roves.
+Go, seek him; guide him hence, and heed not me.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Brother, command thyself, and better know
+Thy sister, newly found! Misconstrue not
+Her pure and heavenly rapture, blaming it
+As lustful heat unbridled. O ye gods,
+Remove delusion from his rigid gaze,
+Lest that this moment, fraught with bliss supreme,
+Should make us trebly wretched! She is here,
+Thine own, thy long-lost sister! From the altar
+The goddess rescued me, and placed me here,
+Secure within her consecrated fane--
+A captive thou, prepared for sacrifice,
+And findest here a sister in the priestess.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Unblessèd one! So may the radiant sun
+The final horror of our house behold!
+Is not Electra here? That she with us
+May also perish, nor her life prolong
+For heavier destiny and direr woe.
+'Tis well,--I follow, priestess! Fratricide
+Is an old custom of our ancient house;
+And you, ye gods, I thank, that ye resolve
+Childless to root me hence. Thee let me counsel
+To view too fondly neither sun nor stars.
+Come, follow to the gloomy realms below!
+As dragons, gender'd in the sulphur pool,
+Swallow each other with voracious rage,
+So our accursed race destroys itself.
+Childless and guiltless come below with me!
+There's pity in thy look! oh, gaze not so,--
+'Twas with such looks that Clytemnestra sought
+An entrance to her son Orestes' heart,
+And yet his uprais'd arm her bosom pierc'd.
+His mother fell!--Appear, indignant shade!
+Within the circle step, ye fiends of hell,
+Be present at the welcome spectacle,
+The last, most horrible that ye prepare!
+Nor hate, nor vengeance whets the poniard now;
+A loving sister is constrain'd to deal
+The fatal blow. Weep not! Thou hast no guilt.
+From earliest infancy I naught have lov'd,
+As thee I could have lov'd, my sister. Come,
+The weapon raise, spare not, this bosom rend,
+And make an outlet for its boiling streams!
+
+[_He sinks exhausted_.]
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Alone I cannot bear this bliss and woe.
+Where art thou, Pylades? Thine aid I need.
+[IPHIGENIA _retires_.]
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+ORESTES (_recovering from his swoon and standing up_)
+
+Give yet another! reach from Lethe's stream
+The last reviving draught of cool refreshment!
+Soon shall its waters in my bosom still
+Life's fitful fever; and my spirit then
+Adown oblivion's stream shall glide to you,
+Ye spirits shrouded in eternal mist.
+With tranquil pleasure in your deep repose
+A weary son of earth may lave his soul!--
+What whisp'ring sounds pervade the dreary grove?
+What hollow murmurs haunt its twilight gloom?--
+They gather round to view the stranger guest!
+Who are you troop in high communion met,
+Like an assembled family of princes?
+They mingle peacefully, of every age,
+Of either sex; godlike, of kindred mould,
+Appear the gliding figures. Yes, 'tis they,
+The fathers of my race! With Atreus,
+In friendly converse glides Thyestes' shade,
+And children playfully around them sport.
+Is there no enmity among you now?
+And is revenge extinguish'd with the sun
+So am I also welcome, and may hope
+To mingle in your solemn company.
+Welcome, my sires! Orestes bids you hail!
+The seed that ye have sow'd, that hath he reap'd.
+Laden with curses he descends to you.
+But burdens here are lighter far to bear.
+Receive him, oh, receive him in your circle!
+Thee, Atreus, I revere, and thee, Thyestes
+Here all are free from enmity and hate.--
+Show me my father, whom I only once
+In life beheld.--Art thou my father, thou,
+My mother leading thus familiarly?
+Dares Clytemnestra reach her hand to thee
+Then may Orestes also draw near her,
+And say, Behold thy son!--My ancestors,
+Behold your son, and bid him welcome here.
+Among the sons of ancient Tantalus,
+A kind salute on earth was murder's watchword,
+And all their joys commence beyond the grave.
+Ye welcome me! Ye bid me join your circle!
+Oh, lead me to my honor'd ancestor!
+Where is our aged sire? Let me behold
+The dear, the venerable head of him
+Who with the immortal gods in council sat.
+Ye seem to shudder and to turn away!
+What may this mean? Suffers the godlike man?
+Alas! the mighty gods, with ruthless hate,
+To his heroic breast, with brazen chains,
+Have cruel pangs indissolubly bound.
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+ORESTES, IPHIGENIA, PYLADES
+
+
+ORESTES
+
+How! Are ye come already here below?
+Welcome, my sister! Still Electra fails;
+O that some kindly god, with gentle arrow,
+Her too, full speedily, would downward send!
+Thee, hapless friend, I must compassionate!
+Come with me! Come! To Pluto's gloomy throne,
+There to salute our hosts like stranger guests.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Celestial pair, who from the realms above
+By night and day shed down the beauteous light
+To cheer mankind, but who may not illume
+Departed spirits, save a mortal pair!
+A brother's and a sister's anguish pity!
+For thou, Diana, lov'st thy gentle brother
+Beyond what earth and heaven can offer thee;
+And dost, with quiet yearning, ever turn
+Thy virgin face to his eternal light.
+
+[Illustration: MEETING OF ORESTES AND PYLADES]
+
+Let not my only brother, found so late,
+Rave in the darkness of insanity!
+And is thy will, when 'thou didst here conceal me,
+At length fulfill'd,--wouldst thou to me through him
+To him through me, thy gracious aid extend,--
+Oh, free him from the fetters of this curse,
+Lest vainly pass the precious hours of safety.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Dost thou not know us, and this sacred grove,
+And this blest light, which shines not on the dead?
+Dost thou not feel thy sister and thy friend,
+Who hold thee living in their firm embrace?
+Us firmly grasp; we are not empty shades.
+Mark well my words! Collect thy scatter'd thoughts!
+Attend! Each moment is of priceless worth,
+And our return hangs on a slender thread,
+Which, as it seems, some gracious fate doth spin.
+
+ORESTES (_to_ IPHIGENIA)
+
+My sister, let me for the first time taste,
+With open hearts pure joy within thine arms!
+Ye gods, who charge the heavy clouds with dread,
+And sternly gracious send the long-sought rain
+With thunder and the rush of mighty winds,
+A horrid deluge on the trembling earth;
+Yet dissipate at length man's dread suspense,
+Exchanging timid wonder's anxious gaze
+For grateful looks and joyous songs of praise,
+When in each sparkling drop which gems the leaves,
+Apollo, thousand-fold, reflects his beam,
+And Iris colors with a magic hand
+The dusty texture of the parting clouds;
+Oh, let me also in my sister's arms,
+And on the bosom of my friend, enjoy
+With grateful thanks the bliss ye now bestow;
+My heart assures me that your curses cease.
+The dread Eumenides at length retire,
+The brazen gates of Tartarus I hear
+Behind them closing with a thunderous clang.
+A quick'ning odor from the earth ascends,
+Inviting me to chase, upon its plains,
+The joys of life and deeds of high emprize.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Lose not the moments which are limited!
+The favoring gale, which swells our parting sail,
+Must to Olympus waft our perfect joy.
+Quick counsel and resolve the time demands.
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+SCENE I
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+When the Powers on high decree
+For a feeble child of earth
+Dire perplexity and woe,
+And his spirit doom to pass
+With tumult wild from joy to grief,
+And back again from grief to joy,
+In fearful alternation;
+They in mercy then provide,
+In the precincts of his home,
+Or upon the distant shore,
+That to him may never fail
+Ready help in hours of need,
+A tranquil, faithful friend.
+Oh, bless, ye heavenly powers, our Pylades,
+And whatsoever he may undertake!
+He is in fight the vigorous arm of youth,
+And his the thoughtful eye of age in counsel;
+For tranquil is his soul; he guardeth there
+Of calm a sacred and exhaustless dower,
+And from its depths, in rich supply, outpours
+Comfort and counsel for the sore distressed.
+He tore me from my brother, upon whom,
+With fond amaze, I gaz'd and gaz'd again;
+I could not realize my happiness,
+Nor loose him from my arms, and heeded not
+The danger's near approach that threatens us.
+To execute their project of escape,
+They hasten to the sea, where in a bay
+Their comrades in the vessel lie conceal'd
+Waiting a signal. Me they have supplied
+With artful answers, should the monarch send
+To urge the sacrifice. Alas! I see
+I must consent to follow like a child,
+I have not learn'd deception, nor the art
+To gain with crafty wiles my purposes.
+Detested falsehood! it doth not relieve
+The breast like words of truth: it comforts not,
+But is a torment in the forger's heart,
+And, like an arrow which a god directs,
+Flies back and wounds the archer. Through my heart
+One fear doth chase another; perhaps with rage,
+Again on the unconsecrated shore,
+The Furies' grisly band my brother seize.
+Perchance they are surpris'd! Methinks, I hear
+The tread of armèd men. A messenger
+Is coming from the king, with hasty steps.
+How throbs my heart, how troubled is my soul,
+Now that I gaze upon the face of one,
+Whom with a word untrue I must encounter!
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+IPHIGENIA, ARKAS
+
+
+ARKAS
+
+Priestess, with speed conclude the sacrifice!
+Impatiently the king and people wait.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I had perform'd my duty and thy will,
+Had not an unforeseen impediment
+The execution of my purpose thwarted.
+
+ARKAS
+
+What is it that obstructs the king's commands?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Chance, which from mortals will not brook control.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Possess me with the reason, that with speed
+I may inform the king, who hath decreed
+The death of both.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+            The gods have not decreed it.
+The elder of these men doth bear the guilt
+Of kindred murder; on his steps attend
+The dread Erinnys. In the inner fane
+They seized upon their prey, polluting thus
+The holy sanctuary. I hasten now,
+Together with my virgin-train, to bathe
+The goddess' image in the sea, and there
+With solemn rites its purity restore.
+Let none presume our silent march to follow!
+
+ARKAS
+
+This hindrance to the monarch I'll announce
+Commence not thou the rite till he permit.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The priestess interferes alone in this.
+
+ARKAS
+
+An incident so strange the king should know.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Here, nor his counsel nor command avails.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Oft are the great consulted out of form.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Do not insist on what I must refuse.
+
+ARKAS
+
+A needful and a just demand refuse not.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I yield, if thou delay not.
+
+ARKAS
+
+                               I with speed
+Will bear these tidings to the camp, and soon
+Acquaint thee, priestess, with the king's reply.
+There is a message I would gladly bear him;
+'Twould quickly banish all perplexity
+Thou didst not heed thy faithful friend's advice.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I willingly have done whate'er I could.
+
+ARKAS
+
+E'en now 'tis not too late to change thy purpose.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+To do so is, alas, beyond our power.
+
+ARKAS
+
+What thou wouldst shun, thou deem'st impossible.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy wish doth make thee deem it possible.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Wilt thou so calmly venture everything?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+My fate I have committed to the gods.
+
+ARKAS
+
+The gods are wont to save by human means.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+By their appointment everything is done.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Believe me, all doth now depend on thee.
+The irritated temper of the king
+Alone condemns these men to bitter death.
+The soldiers from the cruel sacrifice
+And bloody service long have been disused;
+Nay, many, whom their adverse fortunes cast
+In foreign regions, there themselves have felt
+How godlike to the exil'd wanderer
+The friendly countenance of man appears.
+Do not deprive us of thy gentle aid!
+With ease thou canst thy sacred task fulfil;
+For nowhere doth benignity, which comes
+In human form from heaven, so quickly gain
+An empire o'er the heart, as where a race,
+Gloomy and savage, full of life and power,
+Without external guidance, and oppress'd
+With vague forebodings, bear life's heavy load.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Shake not my spirit, which thou canst not bend
+According to thy will.
+
+ARKAS
+
+                    While there is time
+Nor labor nor persuasion shall be spar'd.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy labor but occasions pain to me;
+Both are in vain; therefore, I pray, depart.
+
+ARKAS
+
+I summon pain to aid me, 'tis a friend
+Who counsels wisely.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                  Though it shakes my soul,
+It doth not banish thence my strong repugnance.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Can then a gentle soul repugnance feel
+For benefits bestow'd by one so noble?
+
+[Illustration: IPHIGENIA From the Painting by Max Nonnenbruch]
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Yes, when the donor, for those benefits,
+Instead of gratitude, demands myself.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Who no affection feels doth never want
+Excuses. To the king I will relate
+What hath befallen. O that in thy soul
+Thou wouldst revolve his noble conduct to thee
+Since thy arrival to the present day!
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+These words at an unseasonable hour
+Produce a strong revulsion in my breast;
+I am alarm'd!--For as the rushing tide
+In rapid currents eddies o'er the rocks
+Which lie among the sand upon the shore;
+E'en so a stream of joy o'erwhelm'd my soul.
+I grasp'd what had appear'd impossible.
+It was as though another gentle cloud
+Around me lay, to raise me from the earth,
+And rock my spirit in the same sweet sleep
+Which the kind goddess shed around my brow,
+What time her circling arm from danger snatched me.
+My brother forcibly engross'd my heart;
+I listen'd only to his friend's advice;
+My soul rush'd eagerly to rescue them,
+And as the mariner with joy surveys
+The less'ning breakers of a desert isle,
+So Tauris lay behind me. But the voice
+Of faithful Arkas wakes me from my dream,
+Reminding me that those whom I forsake
+Are also men. Deceit doth now become
+Doubly detested. O my soul, be still!
+Beginn'st thou now to tremble and to doubt?
+Thy lonely shelter on the firm-set earth
+Must thou abandon? and, embark'd once more,
+At random drift upon tumultuous waves,
+A stranger to thyself and to the world?
+
+
+SCENE IV
+
+IPHIGENIA, PYLADES
+
+
+PYLADES
+
+Where is she? that my words with speed may tell
+The joyful tidings of our near escape!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oppress'd with gloomy care, I much require
+The certain comfort thou dost promise me.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Thy brother is restor'd! The rocky paths
+Of this unconsecrated shore we trod
+In friendly converse, while behind us lay,
+Unmark'd by us, the consecrated grove;
+And ever with increasing glory shone
+The fire of youth around his noble brow.
+Courage and hope his glowing eye inspir'd;
+And his exultant heart resigned itself
+To the delight, the joy, of rescuing
+Thee, his deliverer, also me, his friend.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The gods shower blessings on thee, Pylades!
+And from those lips which breathe such welcome news
+Be the sad note of anguish never heard!
+
+PYLADES
+
+I bring yet more,--for Fortune, like a prince,
+Comes not alone, but well accompanied.
+Our friends and comrades we have also found.
+Within a bay they had conceal'd the ship,
+And mournful sat expectant. They beheld
+Thy brother, and a joyous shout uprais'd,
+Imploring him to haste the parting hour.
+Each hand impatient long'd to grasp the oar,
+While from the shore a gently murmuring breeze,
+Perceiv'd by all, unfurl'd its wing auspicious.
+Let us then hasten; guide me to the fane,
+That I may tread the sanctuary, and win
+With sacred awe the goal of our desires.
+I can unaided on my shoulder bear
+The goddess' image: how I long to feel
+The precious burden!
+
+(_While speaking the last words, he approaches the
+Temple, without perceiving that he is not followed
+by_ IPHIGENIA: _at length he turns around_.)
+
+                   Why thus lingering stand?
+Why art thou silent? wherefore thus confus'd?
+Doth some new obstacle oppose our bliss?
+Inform me, hast thou to the king announc'd
+The prudent message we agreed upon?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I have, dear Pylades; yet wilt thou chide.
+Thy very aspect is a mute reproach.
+The royal messenger arriv'd, and I,
+According to thy counsel, fram'd my speech.
+He seem'd surpris'd, and urgently besought,
+That to the monarch I should first announce
+The rite unusual, and attend his will.
+I now await the messenger's return.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Danger again doth hover o'er our heads!
+Alas! Why hast thou failed to shroud thyself
+Within the veil of sacerdotal rites?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I never have employ'd them as a veil.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Pure soul! thy scruples will destroy alike
+Thyself and us. Why did I not forsee
+Such an emergency, and tutor thee
+This counsel also wisely to elude?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Chide only me, for mine alone the blame.
+Yet other answer could I not return
+To him, who strongly and with reason urged
+What my own heart acknowledg'd to be right.
+
+PYLADES
+
+The danger thickens; but let us be firm.
+Nor with incautious haste betray ourselves;
+Calmly await the messenger's return,
+And then stand fast, whatever his reply:
+For the appointment of such sacred rites
+Doth to the priestess, not the king, belong.
+Should he demand the stranger to behold,
+Who is by madness heavily oppress'd,
+Evasively pretend, that in the fane,
+Well guarded, thou retainest him and me.
+Thus you secure us time to fly with speed,
+Bearing the sacred treasure from this race,
+Unworthy its possession. Phoebus sends
+Auspicious omens, and fulfils his word,
+Ere we the first conditions have perform'd.
+Free is Orestes, from the curse absolv'd!
+Oh, with the freed one, to the rocky isle
+Where dwells the god, waft us, propitious gales.
+Thence to Mycene, that she may revive;
+That from the ashes of the extinguish'd hearth,
+The household gods may joyously arise,
+And beauteous fire illumine their abode!
+Thy hand from golden censers first shall strew
+The fragrant incense. O'er that threshold thou
+Shalt life and blessing once again dispense,
+The curse atone, and all thy kindred grace
+With the fresh bloom of renovated life.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+As doth the flower revolve to meet the sun,
+Once more my spirit to sweet comfort turns,
+Struck by thy words' invigorating ray.
+How dear the counsel of a present friend,
+Lacking whose godlike power, the lonely one
+In silence droops! for, lock'd within his breast,
+Slowly are ripen'd purpose and resolve,
+Which friendship's genial warmth had soon matur'd.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Farewell! I haste to re-assure our friends,
+Who anxiously await us: then with speed
+I will return, and, hid within the brake,
+Attend thy signal.--Wherefore, all at once,
+Doth anxious thought o'ercloud thy brow serene?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Forgive me! As light clouds athwart the sun,
+So cares and fears float darkling o'er my soul.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Oh, banish fear! With danger it hath form'd
+A close alliance,--they are constant friends.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+It is an honest scruple, which forbids
+That I should cunningly deceive the king,
+And plunder him who was my second father.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Him thou dost fly, who would have slain thy brother.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+To me, at least, he hath been ever kind.
+
+PYLADES
+
+What Fate commands is not ingratitude.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+Alas! it still remains ingratitude;
+Necessity alone can justify it.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Thee, before gods and men, it justifies.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+But my own heart is still unsatisfied.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Scruples too rigid are a cloak for pride.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I cannot argue, I can only feel.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Conscious of right, thou shouldst respect thyself.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Then only doth the heart know perfect ease.
+When not a stain pollutes it.
+
+PYLADES
+
+                              In this fane
+Pure hast thou kept thy heart. Life teaches us
+To be less strict with others and ourselves;
+Thou'lt learn the lesson too. So wonderful
+Is human nature, and its varied ties
+Are so involv'd and complicate, that none
+May hope to keep his inmost spirit pure,
+And walk without perplexity through life.
+Nor are we call'd upon to judge ourselves;
+With circumspection to pursue his path,
+Is the immediate duty of a man;
+For seldom can he rightly estimate,
+Of his past conduct or his present deeds.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Almost thou dost persuade me to consent.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Needs there persuasion when no choice is granted?
+To save thyself, thy brother, and a friend,
+One path presents itself, and canst thou ask
+If we shall follow it?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                   Still let me pause,
+For such injustice thou couldst not thyself
+Calmly return for benefits receiv'd.
+
+PYLADES
+
+If we should perish, bitter self-reproach,
+Forerunner of despair, will be thy portion.
+It seems thou art not used to suffer much,
+when, to escape so great calamity,
+Thou canst refuse to utter one false word.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oh, that I bore within a manly heart!
+Which, when it hath conceiv'd a bold resolve,
+'Gainst every other voice doth close itself.
+
+PYLADES
+
+In vain thou dost refuse; with iron hand
+Necessity commands; her stern decree
+Is law supreme, to which the gods themselves
+Must yield submission. In dread silence rules
+The uncounsell'd sister of eternal fate.
+What she appoints thee to endure,--endure;
+What to perform,--perform. The rest thou knowest.
+Ere long I will return, and then receive
+The seal of safety from thy sacred hand.
+
+
+SCENE V
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+I must obey him, for I see my friends
+Beset with peril. Yet my own sad fate
+Doth with increasing anguish move my heart.
+May I no longer feed the silent hope
+Which in my solitude I fondly cherish'd?
+Shall the dire curse eternally endure?
+And shall our fated race ne'er rise again
+With blessings crown'd?--All mortal things decay--
+The noblest powers, the purest joys of life
+At length subside: then wherefore not the curse?
+And have I vainly hoped that, guarded here,
+Secluded from the fortunes of my race,
+I, with pure heart and hands, some future day
+Might cleanse the deep defilement of our house?
+Scarce was my brother in my circling arms
+From raging madness suddenly restor'd,
+Scarce had the ship, long pray'd for, near'd the strand
+Once more to waft me to my native shores,
+When unrelenting Fate, with iron hand,
+A double crime enjoins; commanding me
+To steal the image, sacred and rever'd,
+Confided to my care, and him deceive
+To whom I owe my life and destiny.
+Let not abhorrence spring within my heart!
+Nor the old Titan's hate, toward you, ye gods
+Infix its vulture talons in my breast!
+Save me and save your image in my soul!
+
+An ancient song comes back upon mine ear--
+I had forgotten it, and willingly--
+The Parcæ's song, which horribly they sang,
+What time, hurl'd headlong from his golden seat,
+Fell Tantalus. They with their noble friend
+Keen anguish suffer'd; savage was their breast
+And horrible their song. In days gone by,
+When we were children, oft our ancient nurse
+Would sing it to us, and I mark'd it well.
+
+  Oh, fear the immortals,
+  Ye children of men!
+  Eternal dominion
+  They hold in their hands,
+  And o'er their wide empire
+  Wield absolute sway.
+  Whom they have exalted
+  Let him fear them most!
+  Around golden tables,
+  On cliffs and clouds resting
+  The seats are prepar'd.
+
+  If contest ariseth,
+  The guests are hurl'd headlong,
+  Disgrac'd and dishonor'd,
+  To gloomy abysses,
+  And, fetter'd in darkness,
+  Await the vain longing
+  A juster decree.
+
+  But in feasts everlasting,
+  Around the gold tables
+  Still dwell the immortals.
+  From mountain to mountain
+  They stride; while ascending
+  From fathomless chasms
+  The breath of the Titans,
+  Half-stifled with anguish,
+  Like volumes of incense
+  Fumes up to the skies.
+
+  From races ill-fated,
+  Their-aspect joy-bringing,
+  Oft turn the celestials,
+  And shun in the children
+  To gaze on the features
+  Once lov'd and still speaking
+  Of their mighty sire.
+
+  So chanted the Parcae;
+  The banish'd one hearkens
+  The song, the hoar captive
+  Immur'd in his dungeon,
+  His children's doom ponders,
+  And boweth his head.
+
+
+ACT V
+
+SCENE I
+
+THOAS, ARKAS
+
+
+ARKAS
+
+I own I am perplex'd and scarcely know
+'Gainst whom to point the shaft of my suspicion,
+Whether the priestess aids the captives' flight,
+Or they themselves clandestinely contrive it.
+'Tis rumor'd that the ship which brought them here
+Is lurking somewhere in a bay conceal'd.
+This stranger's madness, these new lustral rites,
+The specious pretext for delay, excite
+Mistrust, and call aloud for vigilance.
+
+THOAS
+
+Summon the priestess to attend me here!
+Then go with speed, and strictly search the shore,
+From yonder headland to Diana's grove:
+Forbear to violate its sacred depths,
+A watchful ambush set, attack and seize,
+According to your wont, whome'er ye find.
+[ARKAS _retires_.]
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+THOAS (_alone_)
+
+Fierce anger rages in my riven breast,
+First against her, whom I esteemed so pure;
+Then 'gainst myself, whose foolish lenity
+Hath fashion'd her for treason. Man is soon
+Inur'd to slavery, and quickly learns
+Submission, when of freedom quite depriv'd.
+If she had fallen in the savage hands
+Of my rude sires, and had their holy rage
+Forborne to slay her, grateful for her life,
+She would have recogniz'd her destiny,
+Have shed before the shrine the stranger's blood,
+And duty nam'd what was necessity.
+
+Now my forbearance in her breast allures
+Audacious wishes. Vainly I had hoped
+To bind her to me; rather she contrives
+To shape an independent destiny.
+She won my heart through flattery; and now
+That I oppose her, seeks to gain her ends
+By fraud and cunning, and my kindness deems
+A worthless and prescriptive property.
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Me hast thou summon'd? wherefore art thou here?
+
+THOAS
+
+Wherefore delay the sacrifice? inform me.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I have acquainted Arkas with the reasons.
+
+THOAS
+
+From thee I wish to hear them more at large.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The goddess for reflection grants thee time.
+
+THOAS
+
+To thee this time seems also opportune.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+If to this cruel deed thy heart is steel'd,
+Thou shouldst not come! A king who meditates
+A deed inhuman, may find slaves enow,
+Willing for hire to bear one-half the curse,
+And leave the monarch's presence undefil'd.
+Enrapt in gloomy clouds he forges death,
+Flaming destruction then his ministers
+Hurl down upon his wretched victim's head,
+While he abideth high above the storm,
+Calm and untroubled, an impassive god.
+
+THOAS
+
+A wild song, priestess, issued from thy lips.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+No priestess, king! but Agamemnon's daughter;
+While yet unknown, thou didst respect my words
+A princess now,--and think'st thou to command me?
+From youth I have been tutor'd to obey,
+My parents first and then the deity;
+And thus obeying, ever hath my soul
+Known sweetest freedom. But nor then nor now
+Have I been taught compliance with the voice
+And savage mandates of a man.
+
+THOAS
+
+                         Not I,
+An ancient law doth thy obedience claim.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Our passions eagerly catch hold of laws
+Which they can wield as weapons. But to me
+Another law, one far more ancient, speaks
+And doth command me to withstand thee, king!
+That law declaring sacred every stranger.
+
+THOAS
+
+These men, methinks, lie very near thy heart,
+When sympathy with them can lead thee thus
+To violate discretion's primal law,
+That those in power should never be provok'd.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Speaking or silent, thou canst always know
+What is, and ever must be, in my heart.
+Doth not remembrance of a common doom,
+To soft compassion melt the hardest heart?
+How much more mine! in them I see myself.
+I trembling kneel'd before the altar once,
+And solemnly the shade of early death
+Environ'd me. Aloft the knife was rais'd
+To pierce my bosom, throbbing with warm life;
+A dizzy horror overwhelm'd my soul;
+My eyes grew dim; I found myself in safety.
+Are we not bound to render the distress'd
+The gracious kindness from the gods receiv'd?
+Thou know'st we are, and yet wilt thou compel me?
+
+THOAS
+
+Obey thine office, priestess, not the king.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Cease! nor thus seek to cloak the savage force
+Which triumphs o'er a woman's feebleness.
+Though woman, I am born as free as man.
+Did Agamemnon's son before thee stand,
+And thou requiredst what became him not,
+His arm and trusty weapon would defend
+His bosom's freedom. I have only words;
+But it becomes a noble-minded man
+To treat with due respect the words of woman.
+
+THOAS
+
+I more respect them than a brother's sword.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Uncertain ever is the chance of arms,
+No prudent warrior doth despise his foe;
+Nor yet defenceless 'gainst severity
+Hath nature left the weak; she gives him craft
+And, willy, cunning; artful he delays,
+Evades, eludes, and finally escapes.
+Such arms are justified by violence.
+
+THOAS
+
+But circumspection countervails deceit.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Which a pure spirit doth abhor to use.
+
+THOAS
+
+Do not incautiously condemn thyself.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oh, couldst thou see the struggle of my soul,
+Courageously to ward the first attack
+Of an unhappy doom, which threatens me!
+Do I then stand before thee weaponless?
+Prayer, lovely prayer, fair branch in woman's hand,
+More potent far than instruments of war,
+Thou dost thrust back. What now remains for me
+Wherewith my inborn freedom to defend?
+Must I implore a miracle from heaven?
+Is there no power within my spirit's depths?
+
+THOAS
+
+Extravagant thy interest in the fate
+Of these two strangers. Tell me who they are
+For whom thy heart is thus so deeply mov'd.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+They are--they seem at least--I think them Greeks.
+
+THOAS
+
+Thy countrymen; no doubt they have renew'd
+The pleasing picture of return.
+
+IPHIGENIA (_after a pause_)
+
+ Doth man
+Lay undisputed claim to noble deeds?
+Doth he alone to his heroic breast
+Clasp the impossible? What call we great?
+What deeds, though oft narrated, still uplift
+with shuddering horror the narrator's soul,
+But those which, with improbable success,
+The valiant have attempted? Shall the man
+Who all alone steals on his foes by night,
+And raging like an unexpected fire,
+Destroys the slumbering host, and press'd at length
+By rous'd opponents on his foeman's steeds,
+Retreats with booty--be alone extoll'd?
+Or he who, scorning safety, boldly roams
+Through woods and dreary wilds, to scour the land
+Of thieves and robbers? Is naught left for us?
+Must gentle woman quite forego her nature,
+Force against force employ, like Amazons
+Usurp the sword from man, and bloodily
+Revenge oppression? In my heart I feel
+The stirrings of a noble enterprize;
+But if I fail--severe reproach, alas!
+And bitter misery will be my doom.
+Thus on my knees I supplicate the gods!
+Oh, are ye truthful, as men say ye are,
+Now prove it by your countenance and aid;
+Honor the truth in me! Attend, O king
+A secret plot deceitfully is laid;
+Touching the captives thou dost ask in vain;
+They have departed hence and seek their friends,
+Who, with the ship, await them on the shore.
+The eldest,--whom dire madness lately seiz'd,
+And hath abandon'd now,--he is Orestes,
+My brother, and the other Pylades,
+His early friend and faithful confidant.
+From Delphi, Phoebus sent them to this shore
+With a divine command to steal away
+The image of Diana, and to him
+Bear back the sister thither, and for this
+He promised to the blood-stained matricide,
+The Fury-haunted son, deliverance.
+I have surrender'd now into thy hands
+The remnants of the house of Tantalus.
+Destroy us--if thou canst.
+
+THOAS
+
+                     And dost thou think
+That the uncultured Scythian will attend
+The voice of truth and of humanity
+Which Atreus, the Greek, heard not?
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                                'Tis heard
+By every one, born 'neath whatever clime,
+Within whose bosom flows the stream of life,
+Pure and unhinder'd.--What thy thought? O king,
+What silent purpose broods in thy deep soul?
+Is it destruction? Let me perish first!
+For now, deliv'rance hopeless, I perceive
+The dreadful peril into which I have
+With rash precipitancy plung'd my friends.
+Alas! I soon shall see them bound before me!
+How to my brother shall I say farewell?
+I, the unhappy author of his death.
+Ne'er can I gaze again in his dear eyes!
+
+THOAS
+
+The traitors have contrived a cunning web,
+And cast it round thee, who, secluded long,
+Giv'st willing credence to thine own desires.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+No, no! I'd pledge my life these men are true.
+And shouldst thou find them otherwise, O king,
+Then let them perish both, and cast me forth,
+That on some rock-girt island's dreary shore
+I may atone my folly. Are they true,
+And is this man indeed my dear Orestes,
+My brother, long implor'd,--release us both,
+And o'er us stretch the kind protecting arm
+Which long hath shelter'd me. My noble sire
+Fell through his consort's guilt,--she by her son;
+On him alone the hope of Atreus' race
+Doth now repose. Oh, with pure heart, pure hand,
+Let me depart to purify our house.
+Yes, thou wilt keep thy promise; thou didst swear,
+That were a safe return provided me,
+I should be free to go. The hour is come.
+A king doth never grant like common men,
+Merely to gain a respite from petition;
+Nor promise what he hopes will ne'er be claim'd.
+Then first he feels his dignity supreme
+When he can make the long-expecting happy.
+
+THOAS
+
+As fire opposes water, and doth seek
+With hissing rage to overcome its foe,
+So doth my anger strive against thy words.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Let mercy, like the consecrated flame
+Of silent sacrifice, encircled round
+With songs of gratitude, and joy, and praise,
+Above the tumult gently rise to heaven.
+
+THOAS
+
+How often hath this voice assuag'd my soul!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Extend thy hand to me in sign of peace.
+
+THOAS
+
+Large thy demand within so short a time.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Beneficence doth no reflection need.
+
+THOAS
+
+'Tis needed oft, for evil springs from good.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+'Tis doubt which good doth oft to evil turn.
+Consider not; act as thy feelings prompt thee.
+
+
+SCENE IV
+
+ORESTES (_armed_), IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+ORESTES (_addressing his followers_)
+
+Redouble your exertions! hold them back!
+Few moments will suffice; maintain your ground,
+And keep a passage open to the ship
+For me and for my sister.
+
+ (_To_ IPHIGENIA, _without perceiving_ THOAS.)
+
+                          Come with speed!
+We are betray'd,--brief time remains for flight.
+
+ (_He perceives the king_.)
+
+THOAS (_laying his hand on his sword_)
+
+None in my presence with impunity
+His naked weapon wears.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                     Do not profane
+Diana's sanctuary with rage and blood.
+Command your people to forbear awhile,
+And listen to the priestess, to the sister.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Say, who is he that threatens us?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+                               In him
+Revere the king, who was my second father.
+Forgive me, brother, that my childlike heart
+Hath plac'd our fate thus wholly in his hands.
+I have betray'd your meditated flight,
+And thus from treachery redeem'd my soul.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Will he permit our peaceable return?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy gleaming sword forbids me to reply.
+
+ORESTES (_sheathing his sword_)
+
+Then speak! thou seest I listen to thy words.
+
+
+SCENE V
+
+ORESTES, IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+_Enter_ PYLADES, _soon after him_ ARKAS _both with drawn
+swords_.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Do not delay! our friends are putting forth
+Their final strength, and, yielding step by step,
+Are slowly driven backward to the sea.--
+A conference of princes find I here?
+Is this the sacred person of the king?
+
+ARKAS
+
+Calmly, as doth become thee, thou dost stand,
+O king, surrounded by thine enemies.
+Soon their temerity shall be chastiz'd;
+Their yielding followers fly,--their ship is ours,
+Speak but the word and it is wrapt in flames.
+
+THOAS
+
+Go, and command my people to forbear!
+Let none annoy the foe while we confer.
+[ARKAS _retires_.]
+
+ORESTES
+
+I willingly consent. Go, Pylades!
+Collect the remnant of our friends, and wait
+The appointed issue of our enterprize.
+[PYLADES _retires_.]
+
+
+SCENE VI
+
+IPHIGENIA, THOAS, ORESTES
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Relieve my cares ere ye begin to speak.
+I fear contention, if thou wilt not hear
+The voice of equity, O king,--if thou
+Wilt not, my brother, curb thy headstrong youth.
+
+THOAS
+
+I, as becomes the elder, check my rage.
+Now answer me: how dost thou prove thyself
+The priestess' brother, Agamemnon's son?
+
+ORESTES
+
+Behold the sword with which the hero slew
+The valiant Trojans. From his murderer
+I took the weapon, and implor'd the Gods
+To grant me Agamemnon's mighty arm,
+Success, and valor, with a death more noble.
+Select one of the leaders of thy host,
+And place the best as my opponent here.
+Where'er on earth the sons of heroes dwell,
+This boon is to the stranger ne'er refus'd.
+
+THOAS
+
+This privilege hath ancient custom here
+To strangers ne'er accorded.
+
+ORESTES
+
+                       Then from us
+Commence the novel custom! A whole race
+In imitation soon will consecrate
+Its monarch's noble action into law.
+Nor let me only for our liberty,--
+Let me, a stranger, for all strangers fight.
+If I should fall, my doom be also theirs;
+But if kind fortune crown me with success,
+Let none e'er tread this shore, and fail to meet
+The beaming eye of sympathy and love,
+Or unconsoled depart!
+
+THOAS
+
+                  Thou dost not seem
+Unworthy of thy boasted ancestry.
+Great is the number of the valiant men
+Who wait upon me; but I will myself,
+Although advanc'd in years, oppose the foe,
+And am prepar'd to try the chance of arms.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+No, no! such bloody proofs are not requir'd.
+Unhand thy weapon, king! my lot consider;
+Rash combat oft immortalizes man;
+If he should fall, he is renown'd in song;
+But after ages reckon not the tears
+Which ceaseless the forsaken woman sheds;
+And poets tell not of the thousand nights
+Consum'd in weeping, and the dreary days,
+Wherein her anguish'd soul, a prey to grief,
+Doth vainly yearn to call her lov'd one back.
+Fear warn'd me to beware lest robbers' wiles
+Might lure me from this sanctuary, and then
+Betray me into bondage. Anxiously
+I question'd them, each circumstance explor'd,
+Demanded proofs, now is my heart assur'd.
+See here, the mark on his right hand impress'd
+As of three stars, which on his natal day
+Were by the priest declar'd to indicate
+Some dreadful deed therewith to be perform'd.
+And then this scar, which doth his eyebrow cleave,
+Redoubles my conviction. When a child,
+Electra, rash and inconsiderate,
+Such was her nature, loos'd him from her arms,
+He fell against a tripos. Oh, 'tis he!--
+Shall I adduce the likeness to his sire,
+Or the deep rapture of my inmost heart,
+In further token of assurance, king?
+
+THOAS
+
+E'en though thy words had banish'd every doubt,
+And I had curb'd the anger in my breast,
+Still must our arms decide. I see no peace.
+Their purpose, as thou didst thyself confess,
+Was to deprive me of Diana's image.
+And think ye I will look contented on?
+The Greeks are wont to cast a longing eye
+Upon the treasures of barbarians,
+A golden fleece, good steeds, or daughters fair;
+But force and guile not always have avail'd
+To lead them, with their booty, safely home.
+
+ORESTES
+
+The image shall not be a cause of strife!
+We now perceive the error which the god,
+Our journey here commanding, like a veil,
+Threw o'er our minds. His counsel I implor'd,
+To free me from the Furies' grisly band.
+He answer'd, "Back to Greece the sister bring,
+Who in the sanctuary on Tauris' shore
+Unwillingly abides; so ends the curse!"
+To Phoebus' sister we applied the words,
+And he referr'd to thee! The bonds severe,
+Which held thee from us, holy one, are rent,
+And thou art ours once more. At thy blest touch,
+I felt myself restor'd. Within thine arms,
+Madness once more around me coil'd its folds,
+Crushing the marrow in my frame, and then
+Forever, like a serpent, fled to hell.
+Through thee, the daylight gladdens me anew,
+The counsel of the goddess now shines forth
+In all its beauty and beneficence.
+Like to a sacred image, unto which
+An oracle immutably hath bound
+A city's welfare, thee she bore away,
+Protectress of our house, and guarded here
+Within this holy stillness, to become
+A blessing to thy brother and thy race.
+Now when each passage to escape seems clos'd,
+And safety hopeless, thou dost give us all.
+O king, incline thine heart to thoughts of peace!
+Let her fulfil her mission, and complete
+The consecration of our father's house,
+Me to their purified abode restore,
+And place upon my brow the ancient crown!
+Requite the blessing which her presence brought thee,
+And let me now my nearer right enjoy!
+Cunning and force, the proudest boast of man,
+Fade in the lustre of her perfect truth;
+ Nor unrequited will a noble mind
+Leave confidence, so childlike and so pure.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Think on thy promise; let thy heart be mov'd
+By what a true and honest tongue hath spoken!
+Look on us, king! an opportunity
+For such a noble deed not oft occurs.
+Refuse thou canst not,--give thy quick consent.
+
+THOAS
+
+Then go!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+           Not so, my king! I cannot part
+Without thy blessing, or in anger from thee,
+Banish us not! the sacred right of guests
+Still let us claim: so not eternally
+Shall we be sever'd. Honor'd and belov'd
+As mine own father was, art thou by me;
+And this impression in my soul abides,
+Let but the least among thy people bring
+Back to mine ear the tones I heard from thee,
+Or should I on the humblest see thy garb,
+I will with joy receive him as a god,
+Prepare his couch myself, beside our hearth
+Invite him to a seat, and only ask
+Touching thy fate and thee. Oh, may the gods
+To thee the merited reward impart
+Of all thy kindness and benignity!
+Farewell! O turn thou not away, but give
+One kindly word of parting in return!
+So shall the wind more gently swell our sails,
+And from our eyes with soften'd anguish flow,
+The tears of separation. Fare thee well!
+And graciously extend to me thy hand,
+In pledge of ancient friendship.
+
+THOAS (_extending his hand_)
+
+Fare thee well!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+THE FAUST LEGEND FROM MARLOWE TO GOETHE
+
+By KUNO FRANCKE, PH.D., LL.D., LITT.D.
+
+Professor of the History of German Culture, Harvard University
+
+
+The Faust legend is a conglomerate of anonymous popular traditions,
+largely of medieval origin, which in the latter part of the sixteenth
+century came to be associated with an actual individual of the name of
+Faustus whose notorious career during the first four decades of the
+century, as a pseudo-scientific mountebank, juggler and magician can
+be traced through various parts of Germany. The Faust Book of 1587,
+the earliest collection of these tales, is of prevailingly theological
+character. It represents Faust as a sinner and reprobate, and it holds
+up his compact with Mephistopheles and his subsequent damnation as an
+example of human recklessness and as a warning to the faithful.
+
+From this Faust Book, that is from its English translation, which
+appeared in 1588, Marlowe took his tragedy of _Dr. Faustus_ (1589;
+published 1604). In Marlowe's drama Faust appears as a typical man of
+the Renaissance, as an explorer and adventurer, as a superman craving
+for extraordinary power, wealth, enjoyment, and worldly eminence. The
+finer emotions are hardly touched upon. Mephistopheles is the medieval
+devil, harsh and grim and fierce, bent on seduction, without any
+comprehension of human aspirations. Helen of Troy is a she-devil, and
+becomes the final means of Faust's destruction. Faust's career has
+hardly an element of true greatness. None of the many tricks,
+conjurings and miracles, which Faust performs with Mephistopheles'
+help, has any relation to the deeper meaning of life. From the compact
+on to the end hardly anything happens which brings Faust inwardly
+nearer either to heaven or hell. But there is a sturdiness of
+character and stirring intensity of action, with a happy admixture of
+buffoonery, through it all. And we feel something of the pathos and
+paradox of human passions in the fearful agony of Faust's final doom.
+
+The German popular Faust drama of the seventeenth century and its
+outgrowth the puppet plays, are a reflex both of Marlowe's tragedy and
+the Faust Book of 1587, although they contain a number of original
+scenes, notably the Council of the Devils at the beginning. Here
+again, the underlying sentiment is the abhorrence of human
+recklessness and extravagance. In some of these plays, the vanity of
+bold ambition is brought out with particular emphasis through the
+contrast between the daring and dissatisfied Faust and his farcical
+counterpart, the jolly and contented Casperle. In the last scene,
+while Faust in despair and contrition is waiting for the sound of the
+midnight bell which is to be the signal of his destruction, Casperle,
+as night watchman, patrols the streets of the town, calling out the
+hours and singing the traditional verses of admonition to quiet and
+orderly conduct.
+
+To the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, then, Faust appeared as a
+criminal who sins against the eternal laws of life, as a rebel against
+holiness who ruins his better self and finally earns the merited
+reward of his misdeeds. He could not appear thus to the eighteenth
+century. The eighteenth century is the age of Rationalism and of
+Romanticism. The eighteenth century glorifies human reason and human
+feeling. The right of man and the dignity of man are its principal
+watchwords. Such an age was bound to see in Faust a champion of
+freedom, nature, truth. Such an age was bound to see in Faust a symbol
+of human striving for completeness of life.
+
+It is Lessing who has given to the Faust legend this turn. His
+_Faust_, unfortunately consisting only of a few fragmentary sketches,
+is a defense of Rationalism. The most important of these fragments,
+preserved to us in copies by some friends of Lessing's, is the
+prelude, a council of devils. Satan is receiving reports from his
+subordinates as to what they have done to bring harm to the realm of
+God. The first devil who speaks has set the hut of some pious poor on
+fire; the second has buried a fleet of usurers in the waves. Both
+excite Satan's disgust. "For," he says, "to make the pious poor still
+poorer means only to chain him all the more firmly to God"; and the
+usurers, if, instead of being buried in the waves, they had been
+allowed to reach the goal of their voyage, would have wrought new evil
+on distant shores. Much more satisfied is Satan with the report of a
+third devil who has stolen the first kiss from a young innocent girl
+and thereby breathed the flame of desire into her veins; for he has
+worked evil in the world of the spirit and that means much more and is
+a much greater triumph for hell than to work evil in the world of
+bodies. But it is the fourth devil to whom Satan gives the prize. He
+has not done anything as yet. He has only a plan, but a plan which, if
+carried out, would put the deeds of all the other devils into the
+shade--the plan "to snatch from God his favorite." This favorite of
+God is Faust, "a solitary, brooding youth, renouncing all passion
+except the passion for truth, entirely living in truth, entirely
+absorbed in it." To snatch him from God--that would be a victory, over
+which the whole realm of night would rejoice. Satan is enchanted; the
+war against truth is his element. Yes, Faust must be seduced, he must
+be destroyed. And he shall be destroyed through his very aspiration.
+"Didst thou not say, he has desire for knowledge? That is enough for
+perdition!" His striving for truth is to lead him into darkness. Under
+such exclamations the devils break up, to set about their work of
+seduction; but, as they are breaking up, there is heard from above a
+divine voice: "Ye shall not conquer."
+
+It cannot be denied that Goethe's earliest Faust conception, the
+so-called _Ur-Faust_ of 1773 and '74, lacks the wide sweep of thought
+that characterizes these fragments of Lessing's drama. His Faust of
+the Storm and Stress period is essentially a Romanticist. He is a
+dreamer, craving for a sight of the divine, longing to fathom the
+inner working of nature, drunk with the mysteries of the universe. But
+he is also an unruly individualist, a reckless despiser of accepted
+morality; and it is hard to see how his relation with Gretchen, which
+forms by far the largest part of the _Ur-Faust_, can lead to anything
+but a tragic catastrophe. Only Goethe's second Faust conception, which
+sets in with the end of the nineties of the eighteenth century, opens
+up a clear view of the heights of life.
+
+Goethe was now in the full maturity of his powers, a man widely
+separated from the impetuous youth of the seventies whose Promethean
+emotions had burst forth with volcanic passion. He had meanwhile
+become a statesman and a philosopher. He had come to know in the court
+of Weimar a model of paternal government, conservative yet liberally
+inclined, and friendly to all higher culture. He had found in his
+truly spiritual relation to Frau von Stein a safe harbor for his
+tempestuous feelings. He had been brought face to face, during his
+sojourn in Italy, with the wonders of classic art. The study of
+Spinoza and his own scientific investigations had confirmed him in a
+thoroughly monistic view of the world and strengthened his belief in a
+universal law which makes evil itself an integral part of the good.
+The example of Schiller as well as his own practical experience had
+taught him that the untrammelled living out of personality must go
+hand in hand with incessant work for the common welfare of mankind.
+All this is reflected in the completed Part First of 1808; it finds
+its most comprehensive expression in Part Second, the bequest of the
+dying poet to posterity.
+
+Restless endeavor, incessant striving from lower spheres of life to
+higher ones, from the sensuous to the spiritual, from enjoyment to
+work, from creed to deed, from self to humanity--this is the moving
+thought of Goethe's completed _Faust_. The keynote is struck in the
+"Prologue in Heaven." Faust, so we hear, the daring idealist, the
+servant of God, is to be tempted by Mephisto, the despiser of reason,
+the materialistic scoffer. But we also hear, and we hear it from God's
+own lips, that the tempter will not succeed. God allows the devil free
+play, because he knows that he will frustrate his own ends. Faust will
+be led astray--"man errs while he strives"; but he will not abandon
+his higher aspirations; through aberration and sin he will find the
+true way toward which his inner nature instinctively guides him. He
+will not eat dust. Even in the compact with Mephisto the same
+ineradicable optimism asserts itself. Faust's wager with the devil is
+nothing but an act of temporary despair, and the very fact that he
+does not hope anything from it shows that he will win it. He knows
+that sensual enjoyment will never give him satisfaction; he knows
+that, as long as he gives himself up to self-gratification, there will
+never be a moment to which he would say: "Abide, thou art so fair!"
+From the outset we feel that by living up to the very terms of the
+compact, Faust will rise superior to it; that by rushing into the
+whirlpool of earthly experience and passion, his being will be
+heightened and expanded.
+
+And thus, everything in the whole drama, all its incidents and all its
+characters, become episodes in the rounding out of this grand,
+all-comprehensive personality. Gretchen and Helena, Wagner and
+Mephisto, Homunculus and Euphorion, the Emperor's court and the shades
+of the Greek past, the broodings of medieval mysticism and the
+practical tasks of modern industrialism, the enlightened despotism of
+the eighteenth century and the ideal democracy of the future--all this
+and a great deal more enters into Faust's being. He strides on from
+experience to experience, from task to task, expiating guilt by doing,
+losing himself and finding himself again. Blinded in old age by Dame
+Care, he feels a new light kindled within. Dying, he gazes into a far
+future. And even in the heavenly regions he goes on ever changing into
+new and higher and finer forms. It is this irrepressible spirit of
+striving which makes Goethe's _Faust_ the Bible of modern humanity.
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO FAUST
+
+BY CALVIN THOMAS, LL.D.
+
+Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Columbia University
+
+The central theme of Goethe's _Faust_ may be put in the form of a
+question thus: Shall a man hate life because it does not match his
+dreams, or shall he embrace it eagerly and try to make the best of it
+as a social being? Goethe's answer is at once scientific and
+religious, which partly explains its vital interest for the modern
+man. To be sure, his answer is given at the end of a long symbolic
+poem which contains much that is not exactly relevant to the main
+issue. It must never be forgotten that _Faust_ is not the orderly
+development of a thesis in ethics, but a long succession of
+imaginative pictures. Some of them may seem too recondite and
+fantastic to meet our present-day demand for reality, but on the whole
+the poem deals with vital issues of the human spirit. At the end of it
+Faust arrives at a noble view of life, and his last words undoubtedly
+tell how Goethe himself thought that a good man might wish to end his
+days--unsated with life to the final moment, and expiring in an
+ecstasy of altruistic vision.
+
+Goethe was about twenty years old when his imagination began to be
+haunted by the figure of the sixteenth century magician Doctor Faust.
+In 1772 or 1773 he commenced writing a play on the subject, little
+thinking of course that it would occupy him some sixty years. The old
+legend is a story of sin and damnation. Faust is represented as an
+eager student impelled by intellectual curiosity to the study of
+magic. From the point of view of the superstitious folk who created
+the legend this addiction to magic is itself sinful. But Faust is bad
+and reckless. By the aid of his black art he calls up a devil named
+(in the legend) Mephostophiles with whom he makes a contract of
+service. For twenty-four years Faust is to have all that he desires,
+and then his soul is to go to perdition. The contract is carried out.
+With the Devil as comrade and servant he lords it over time and space,
+feeds on the fat of the land, travels far and wide, and does all sorts
+of wonderful things. At the end of the stipulated time the Devil
+gets him.
+
+From the very beginning of his musings on the theme Goethe thought of
+Faust as a man better than his reputation; as a misunderstood
+truth-seeker who had dared the terrors with which the popular
+imagination invested hell, in order that he might exhaust the
+possibilities of this life. Aside from his desire of transcendental
+knowledge and wide experience, there was a third trait of the
+legendary Faust which could hardly seem to Goethe anything but
+creditable to human nature: his passion for antique beauty. According
+to the old story Faust at one time wishes to marry; but as marriage is
+a Christian ordinance and he has forsworn Christianity, the Devil
+gives him, in place of a lawful wife, a fantom counterfeit of Helena,
+the ancient Queen of Beauty. The lovely fantom becomes Faust's
+paramour and bears him a remarkable son called Justus Faustus.
+
+What wonder if the young Goethe, himself disappointed with
+book-learning, eager for life, and beset by vague yearnings for mystic
+insight into the nature of things, saw in Faust a symbol of his own
+experience? But as soon as he began to identify himself with his hero
+it was all up with Faust's utter damnableness: a young poet does not
+plan to send his own soul to perdition. At the same time, he could not
+very well imagine him as an out-and-out good man, since that would
+have been to turn the legend topsy-turvy. The league with the Devil,
+who would of course have to be conceived as in some sense or other an
+embodiment of evil, was the very heart of the old story.
+
+At first Goethe planned his drama on lines that had little to do with
+traditional ideas of good and bad, heaven and hell, God and Devil.
+Faust is introduced as a youngish professor who has studied everything
+and been teaching for some ten years, with the result that he feels
+his knowledge to be vanity and his life a dreary routine of hypocrisy.
+He resorts to magic in the hope of--what? It is important for the
+understanding of the poem in its initial stages to bear in mind that
+Faust is not at first a votary of the vulgar black art which consists
+in calling up bad spirits and doing reprehensible things by their
+assistance. Further on he shows that he is a master of that art too,
+but at first he is concerned with "natural magic," which some of the
+old mystics whom Goethe read conceived as the highest and divinest of
+sciences. The fundamental assumption of natural magic is that the
+universe as a whole and each component part of it is dominated by an
+indwelling spirit with whom it is possible for the magician to get
+into communication. If he succeeds he becomes "like" a spirit--freed
+from the trammels of the flesh, a partaker of divine knowledge and
+ecstatic happiness.
+
+Pursuing his wonderful vagaries by means of a magic book that has come
+into his possession, Faust first experiments with the "sign" of the
+Macrocosm, but makes no attempt to summon its presiding genius, that
+is, the World-spirit. He has a wonderful vision of the harmonious
+Cosmos, but it is "only a spectacle," whereas he craves food for his
+soul. So he turns to the sign of the Earth-spirit, whom he feels to be
+nearer to him. By an act of supreme daring he utters the formula which
+causes the Spirit to appear in fire--grand, awe-inspiring, terrible. A
+colloquy ensues at the end of which the Spirit rebuffs the
+presumptuous mortal with the words: "Thou art like the spirit whom
+thou comprehendest, not like me"--and disappears. The meaning is that
+Faust, who knows very little of the Earth, having always led the
+narrow life of a brooding scholar in one little corner of it, is not
+fit for intimacy with the mighty being who presides over the entire
+planet, with its rush and change, its life and death, its vast and
+ceaseless energy. He must have a wider experience. How shall he
+get it?
+
+It is a moot question whether Goethe at first conceived Mephistopheles
+as the Earth-spirit's envoy, sent for the express purpose of showing
+Faust about the world, or whether the Devil was thought of as coming
+of his own accord. Be that as it may, _Faust_ is an experience-drama,
+and the Devil's function is to provide the experience. And he is _a_
+devil, not _the_ Devil, conceived as the bitter and malignant enemy of
+God, but a subordinate spirit whose business it is, in the
+world-economy, to spur man to activity. This he does partly by cynical
+criticism and opposition, but more especially by holding out the lures
+of the sensual life. At first Mephistopheles was not thought of as
+working solely for a reward in the shape of souls captured for
+eternity, but as playing his part for the diabolical pleasure of so
+doing. In the course of time, however, Goethe invested him more and
+more with the costume and traits of the traditionary Devil.
+
+After the Earth-spirit's rebuff Faust is in despair. He has set all
+his hope on help from the spirit-world, and the hope has failed. His
+famulus Wagner, a type of the ardent and contented bookworm, comes in
+to get instruction on the art of public speaking, and Faust lays down
+the law to him. After Wagner's exit Faust is hopelessly despondent.
+After a mournful arraignment of life he is about to swallow a cup of
+poison that he has concocted, when his hand is staid by the first
+notes of the Easter celebration in a neighboring church. It reminds
+him of his happy youth when he, too, believed.
+
+The coming day is Easter Sunday. Faust and Wagner take an afternoon
+walk together and witness the jollity of the common people. As they
+are about to return home at nightfall they pick up a casual black dog
+that has been circling around them. Arrived in his comfortable study,
+Faust feels more cheerful. In a mood of religious peace he sets about
+translating a passage of the New Testament into German. The dog
+becomes uneasy and begins to take on the appearance of a horrid
+monster. Faust sees that he has brought home a spirit and proceeds to
+conjure the beast. Presently Mephistopheles emerges from his canine
+disguise in the costume of a wandering scholar. Faust is amused. He
+enters into conversation with his guest and learns something of his
+character. A familiar acquaintance ensues, and one day the Devil finds
+him once more in a mood of bitter despair, advises him to quit the
+tedious professorial life, and offers to be his comrade and servant on
+a grand tour of pleasure. After some bickering they enter into a
+solemn agreement according to which Faust's life is to end whenever he
+shall "stretch himself on a bed of ease," completely satisfied with
+the passing moment, and shall say to that moment, "Pray tarry, thou
+art so fair."
+
+We see that the Devil can win in only one way, namely, by somehow
+making Faust a contented sensualist. On the other hand, Faust may win
+in either of two ways. First, he might conceivably go on to his dying
+day as a bitter pessimist at war with life. In that event he would
+certainly never be content with the present moment. Secondly, he may
+outgrow his pessimism, but never come to the point where he is willing
+to check the flight of Time; when, that is, he shall have no more
+plans, hopes, dreams, that reach into the future and seem worth living
+for. The question is, then, whether Mephistopheles, by any lure at his
+command, can subdue Faust's forward-ranging idealism. The Devil
+expects to win; Faust wagers his immortal soul that the Devil will not
+win. In the old story the Devil appears promptly at the end of the
+twenty-four years, puts his victim to death, and takes possession of
+his soul. Goethe's Mephistopheles is a gentleman of culture for whom
+such savagery would be impossible. He will wait until his comrade dies
+a natural death and then put in his claim in the Devil's fashion; and
+it will be for the Lord in heaven to decide the case.
+
+Such is the scheme of the drama, but after the compact is made we hear
+no more of it until just before the end of the Second Part. The action
+takes the form of a long succession of adventures undertaken for the
+sake of experience. Duty, obligation, routine, have been left behind.
+Faust has nothing to do but to go about and try experiments--first in
+the "little world" of humble folk (the remainder of Part First), and
+then in the "great world" of court life, government, and war (the
+Second Part).
+
+By way of beginning Faust is taken to Auerbach's Cellar, where four
+jolly companions are assembled for a drinking-bout. He is simply
+disgusted with the grossness and vulgarity of it all. He is too
+old--so the Devil concludes--for the rôle he is playing and must have
+his youth renewed. So they repair to an old witch, who gives Faust an
+elixir that makes him young again. The scene in the witch's kitchen
+was written in Italy in 1788, by which time Goethe had come to think
+of his hero as an elderly man. The purpose of the scene was to account
+for the sudden change of Faust's character from brooding philosopher
+to rake and seducer. Of course the elixir of youth is at the same time
+a love-philter.
+
+Then come the matchless scenes that body forth the short romance of
+Margaret, her quick infatuation, her loss of virgin honor, the death
+of her mother and brother, her shame and misery, her agonizing death
+in prison. Here we are in the realm of pure realism, and never again
+did Goethe's art sound such depths of tragic pathos. The atmosphere of
+the love-tragedy is entirely different from that of the Faust-legend.
+Mephistopheles as the abettor of Faust's amorous passion has no need
+of magic. The rôle of Faust--that of a man pulled irresistibly by
+sexual passion, yet constantly tormented by his conscience--is
+repulsive, but very human. As he stands before the prison gate he says
+that "the whole sorrow of mankind" holds him in its grip. But this is
+a part of what he wished for. He wished for universal experience--to
+feel in his own soul all the weal and all the woe of humankind. At the
+end of the First Part he has drained the cup of sin and suffering.
+
+Imbedded in the love-tragedy is one scene which will seem out of tune
+with what has just been said--the Walpurgis Night. Here we are back
+again in the atmosphere of the legend, with its magic, its witchcraft,
+its gross sensuality. We hardly recognize our friend Faust when we
+find him dancing with naked witches and singing lewd songs on the
+Brocken. The scene was written in 1800 when Goethe had become a little
+cynical with respect to the artistic coherence of _Faust_ and looked
+on it as a "monstrosity." It was a part of the early plan that Faust
+should add to the burden of his soul by frivolously deserting Margaret
+in the shame of her approaching motherhood and spending some time in
+gross pleasures. The visit to the Witches' Sabbath on the Brocken was
+afterward invented to carry out this idea. In itself the idea was a
+good one; for if Faust was to drain the cup of sorrow, the ingredient
+of self-contempt could not be left out of the bitter chalice. A
+sorrow's crown of sorrow is not so much remembering happier things as
+remembering that the happy state came to an end by one's own
+wrongdoing. Still, most modern readers will think that Goethe, in
+elaborating the Brocken scene as an interesting study of the uncanny
+and the vile, let his hero sink needlessly far into the mire.
+
+At the beginning of the Second Part Goethe does not reopen the book of
+crime and remorse with which the First Part closes. He needs a new
+Faust for whom that is all past--past, not in the sense of being
+lightly forgotten, but built into his character and remembered, say,
+as one remembers the ecstasy and the pain of twenty years ago. So he
+ushers him directly into the new life over a bridge of symbolism. The
+restoring process which in real life takes many years he concentrates
+into a single night and represents it as the work of kindly nocturnal
+fairies and the glorious Alpine sunrise. Faust awakens healed and
+reinvigorated, and the majesty of Nature inspires in him a resolve to
+"strive ever onward toward the highest existence."
+
+But these fine words convey a promise which is not at once fulfilled.
+Like the most of us, Faust does not long continue to abide on the
+Alpine heights of his own best insight and aspiration. The comrade is
+at hand who interrupts his lonely communion with the spirit of the
+mountains and draws him away to the Emperor's court, where the pair
+soon ingratiate themselves as wonder-workers. They so please his
+Majesty with their marvelous illusions that they are regularly
+installed at court as purveyors of amusement. The first demand that is
+made on them is that they produce, for the entertainment of the court,
+the shades of the supremely beautiful Paris and Helena. To this end
+Mephistopheles devises the elaborate hocus-pocus of the Mothers. He
+sends Faust away to the vasty and viewless realm of the Ideal,
+instructing him how to bring thence a certain wonderful tripod, from
+the incense of which the desired forms can be made to appear. The show
+proceeds successfully, so far as the spectators are concerned, but an
+accident happens. Faust has been cautioned by his partner not to touch
+the fantom forms. But the moon-struck idealist falls in love with the
+beautiful Helena and, disregarding orders, attempts to hold her fast.
+The consequence is an explosion; the spirits vanish, and Faust
+receives an electric shock which paralyzes all his bodily functions.
+He is now in a trance; there is nothing left of him but a motionless
+body and a mute soul, dreaming of Helena. Mephistopheles pretends to
+be very much disgusted, but he knows where to go for help.
+
+At the beginning of the second act we return to the old study that was
+deserted years ago. Faust's former famulus, Dr. Wagner, has now become
+a world-renowned professor and is engaged in a great experiment,
+namely, in the production of a chemical man. By the aid of Mephisto's
+magic the experiment is quickly brought to a successful issue, and
+Homunculus--one of Goethe's whimsically delightful creations--emerges
+into being as an incorporeal radiant man in a glass bottle. The
+wonderful little fellow at once comprehends Faust's malady and
+prescribes that he be taken to the land of his dreams. So away they
+go, the three of them, to the Classical Walpurgis Night, which is
+celebrated annually on the battle-field of Pharsalus in Thessaly. As
+soon as Faust's feet touch classic soil he recovers his senses and
+sets out with enthusiasm to find Helena. After some wandering about
+among the classic fantoms he falls in with Chiron the Centaur, who
+carries him far away to the foot of Mount Olympus and leaves him with
+the wise priestess Manto, who escorts him to the Lower World and
+secures the consent of Queen Persephone to a temporary reappearance of
+Helena on earth.
+
+Meanwhile Mephistopheles, delighted to find on classic ground
+creatures no less ugly than those familiar to him in the far
+Northwest, enters, seemingly by way of a lark, into a curious
+arrangement with the three daughters of Phorkys. These were imagined
+by the Greeks as hideous old hags who lived in perpetual darkness and
+had one eye and one tooth which they used in common. Mephistopheles
+borrows the form, the eye, and the tooth of a Phorkyad and transforms
+himself very acceptably into an image of the Supreme Ugliness. In that
+shape he-she manages the fantasmagory of the third act. As for the
+third member of the expedition to Thessaly, Homunculus, he is
+possessed by a consuming desire to "begin existence," that is, to get
+a body and become a full-fledged member of the genus Homo. His
+wanderings in search of the best place to begin take him out into the
+Aegean Sea, where he is entranced by the beauty of the scene. In an
+ecstasy of prophetic joy he dashes his bottle to pieces against the
+shell-chariot of the lovely sea-nymph Galatea and dissolves himself
+with the shining animalculae of the sea. There he is now--coming up to
+the full estate of manhood by the various stages of protozoon, amoeba,
+mollusc, fish, reptile, bird, mammal, Man. It will take time, but he
+has no need to hurry.
+
+Then follows the third act, a classico-romantic fantasmagoria, in
+which Faust as medieval knight, ruling his multitudinous vassals from
+his castle in Arcadia, the fabled land of poetry, is wedded to the
+classic Queen of Beauty. It is all very fantastic, but also very
+beautiful and marvelously pregnant in its symbolism. But at last the
+fair illusion comes to an end. Euphorion, the child of Helena and
+Faust, the ethereal, earth-spurning Genius of Poesy, perishes in an
+attempt to fly, and his grief-stricken mother follows him back to
+Hades. Nothing is left to Faust but a majestic, inspiring memory. He
+gathers the robe of Helena about him, and it bears him aloft and
+carries him, high up in the air and far above all that is vulgar, back
+to Germany. His vehicle of cloud lands him on a mountain-summit, where
+he is soon joined by Mephistopheles, who puts the question, What next?
+We are now at the beginning of Act IV. Faust proceeds to unfold a
+grand scheme of conflict with the Sea. On his flight he has observed
+the tides eternally beating in upon the shore and evermore receding,
+all to no purpose. This blind waste of energy has excited in him the
+spirit of opposition. He proposes to fight the sea by building dikes
+which shall hold the rushing water in check and make dry land of the
+tide-swept area. Mephistopheles enters readily into his plans. They
+help the Emperor to win a critical battle, and by way of reward Faust
+receives a vast tract of swampy sea-shore as his fief.
+
+In Act V the great scheme has all been carried out. What was a watery
+desolation has been converted into a potential paradise. Faust is a
+great feudal lord, with a boundless domain and a fleet of ships that
+bring him the riches of far-away lands. But thus far he has simply
+been amusing himself on a grand scale. He has thought always mainly of
+himself. He has courted experience, among other things the experience
+of putting forth his power in a contest with the sea and performing a
+great feat of engineering. But it has not brought him a satisfaction
+in which he can rest. And he has not become a saint. An aged couple,
+who belong to the old régime and obstinately refuse to part with the
+little plot of ground on which they have lived for years, anger him to
+the point of madness. He wants their land so that he may build on it a
+watch-tower from which to survey and govern his possessions. He sends
+his servitor to remove them to a better home which he has prepared for
+them. But Mephistopheles carries out the order with reckless
+brutality, with the consequence that the old people are killed and
+their cottage burned to the ground. Thus Faust in his old age--by this
+time he is a hundred years old--has a fresh burden on his conscience.
+As he stands on the balcony of his palace at midnight, surveying the
+havoc he has unintentionally wrought, the smoke of the burning cottage
+is wafted toward him and takes the form of four gray old women. One of
+them, Dame Care, slips into the rich man's palace by way of the
+keyhole and croons in his ear her dismal litany of care. Faust replies
+in a fine declaration of independence, beginning--
+
+  The circle of the Earth is known to me,
+  What's on the other side we can not see.
+
+As Dame Care leaves him she breathes on his eyelids and makes him
+blind. But the inner light is not quenched. His hunger for life still
+unabated, he summons up all his energy and orders out an army of
+workmen to complete a great undertaking on which he has set his heart.
+On the edge of his domain, running along the distant foot-hills, is a
+miasmatic swamp which poisons the air and renders the land
+uninhabitable. He proposes to drain the swamp and thus create a home
+for millions yet to come.
+
+His imagination ranges forward, picturing a free, industrious,
+self-reliant people swarming on the land that he has won from the sea
+and made fit for human uses. In the ecstasy of altruistic emotion he
+exclaims: "Such a throng I would fain see, standing with a free people
+on a free soil; I might say to the passing moment, 'Pray tarry, thou
+art so fair.' The traces of my earthly life can not pass away in
+eons." That same instant he sinks back to earth--dying.
+
+Is there in all literature anything finer, grander, more nobly
+conceived? What follows--the conflict of the angels and devils for the
+final possession of Faust's soul--need not detain us long. We know how
+that will turn out. Indeed, the shrewd old Devil, while he goes
+through the form of making a stiff fight for what he pretends to think
+his rights, knows from the first that his is a losing battle. While he
+is watching the body of Faust to see where the soul is going to
+escape, the angels appear in a glory, bearing roses as their only
+weapon. With these they put the Devil and his minions to rout and bear
+away the dead man's soul to the Holy Mountain, singing their
+triumphal chant--
+
+Wer immer strebend sich bemüht,
+Den können wir erlösen.
+
+
+THE TRAGEDY OF FAUST
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
+
+_Characters in the Prologue for the Theatre_.
+
+THE MANAGER.
+THE DRAMATIC POET.
+MERRYMAN.
+
+_Characters in the Prologue in Heaven_.
+
+THE LORD.
+RAPHAEL}
+GABRIEL} The Heavenly Host.
+MICHAEL}
+MEPHISTOPHELES.
+
+_Characters in the Tragedy_.
+
+FAUST.
+MEPHISTOPHELES.
+WAGNER, a Student.
+MARGARET.
+MARTHA, Margaret's Neighbor.
+VALENTINE, Margaret's Brother.
+OLD PEASANT.
+A STUDENT.
+ELIZABETH, an Acquaintance of Margaret's.
+FROSCH  }
+BRANDER   }  Guests in Auerbach's Wine Cellar.
+SIEBEL  }
+ALTMAYER  }
+
+Witches, old and young; Wizards, Will-o'-the-Wisp, Witch Peddler,
+Protophantasmist, Servibilis, Monkeys, Spirits, Journeymen,
+Country-folk, Citizens, Beggar, Old Fortune-teller, Shepherd, Soldier,
+Students, etc.
+
+_In the Intermezzo_.
+
+
+OBERON.
+TITANIA.
+ARIEL.
+PUCK, ETC., ETC.
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+
+Ye wavering shapes, again ye do enfold me,
+As erst upon my troubled sight ye stole;
+Shall I this time attempt to clasp, to hold ye?
+Still for the fond illusion yearns my soul?
+Ye press around! Come then, your captive hold me,
+As upward from the vapory mist ye roll;
+Within my breast youth's throbbing pulse is bounding,
+Fann'd by the magic breath your march surrounding.
+
+Shades fondly loved appear, your train attending,
+And visions fair of many a blissful day;
+First-love and friendship their fond accents blending,
+Like to some ancient, half-expiring lay;
+Sorrow revives, her wail of anguish sending
+Back o'er life's devious labyrinthine way,
+And names the dear ones, they whom Fate bereaving
+Of life's fair hours, left me behind them grieving.
+
+They hear me not my later cadence singing,
+The souls to whom my earlier lays I sang;
+Dispersed the throng, their severed flight now winging;
+Mute are the voices that responsive rang.
+For stranger crowds the Orphean lyre now stringing,
+E'en their applause is to my heart a pang;
+Of old who listened to my song, glad hearted,
+If yet they live, now wander widely parted.
+
+A yearning long unfelt, each impulse swaying,
+To yon calm spirit-realm uplifts my soul;
+In faltering cadence, as when Zephyr playing,
+Fans the Æolian harp, my numbers roll;
+Tear follows tear, my steadfast heart obeying
+The tender impulse, loses its control;
+What I possess as from afar I see;
+Those I have lost become realities to me.
+
+
+PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE
+
+MANAGER. DRAMATIC POET. MERRYMAN
+
+
+MANAGER
+Ye twain, in trouble and distress
+True friends whom I so oft have found,
+Say, for our scheme on German ground,
+What prospect have we of success?
+Fain would I please the public, win their thanks;
+They live and let live, hence it is but meet.
+The posts are now erected, and the planks,
+And all look forward to a festal treat.
+Their places taken, they, with eyebrows rais'd,
+Sit patiently, and fain would be amaz'd.
+I know the art to hit the public taste,
+Yet ne'er of failure felt so keen a dread;
+True, they are not accustomed to the best,
+But then appalling the amount they've read.
+How make our entertainment striking, new,
+And yet significant and pleasing too?
+For to be plain, I love to see the throng,
+As to our booth the living tide progresses;
+As wave on wave successive rolls along,
+And through heaven's narrow portal forceful presses;
+Still in broad daylight, ere the clock strikes four,
+With blows their way toward the box they take;
+And, as for bread in famine, at the baker's door,
+For tickets are content their necks to break.
+Such various minds the bard alone can sway,
+My friend, oh work this miracle today!
+
+POET
+
+Oh of the motley throng speak not before me,
+At whose aspect the Spirit wings its flight!
+Conceal the surging concourse, I implore thee,
+Whose vortex draws us with resistless might.
+No, to some peaceful heavenly nook restore me,
+Where only for the bard blooms pure delight,
+Where love and friendship yield their choicest blessing,
+Our heart's true bliss, with godlike hand caressing.
+
+What in the spirit's depths was there created,
+What shyly there the lip shaped forth in sound;
+A failure now, with words now fitly mated,
+In the wild tumult of the hour is drown'd;
+Full oft the poet's thought for years hath waited
+Until at length with perfect form 'tis crowned;
+What dazzles, for the moment born, must perish;
+What genuine is posterity will cherish.
+
+MERRYMAN
+
+This cant about posterity I hate;
+About posterity were I to prate,
+Who then the living would amuse? For they
+Will have diversion, ay, and 'tis their due.
+A sprightly fellow's presence at your play,
+Methinks should also count for something too;
+Whose genial wit the audience still inspires,
+Knows from their changeful mood no angry feeling;
+A wider circle he desires,
+To their heart's depths more surely thus appealing.
+To work, then! Give a master-piece, my friend;
+Bring Fancy with her choral trains before us,
+Sense, reason, feeling, passion, but attend!
+Let folly also swell the tragic chorus.
+
+MANAGER
+
+In chief, of incident enough prepare!
+A show they want, they come to gape and stare.
+Spin for their eyes abundant occupation,
+So that the multitude may wondering gaze,
+You by sheer bulk have won your reputation,
+The man you are all love to praise.
+By mass alone can you subdue the masses,
+Each then selects in time what suits his bent.
+Bring much, you something bring for various classes,
+And from the house goes every one content.
+You give a piece, abroad in pieces send it!
+'Tis a ragout--success must needs attend it;
+'Tis easy to serve up, as easy to invent.
+A finish'd whole what boots it to present!
+Full soon the public will in pieces rend it.
+
+POET
+
+How mean such handicraft as this you cannot feel!
+How it revolts the genuine artist's mind!
+The sorry trash in which these coxcombs deal,
+Is here approved on principle, I find.
+
+MANAGER
+
+Such a reproof disturbs me not a whit!
+Who on efficient work is bent,
+Must choose the fittest instrument.
+Consider! 'tis soft wood you have to split;
+Think too for whom you write, I pray!
+One comes to while an hour away;
+One from the festive board, a sated guest;
+Others, more dreaded than the rest,
+From journal-reading hurry to the play.
+As to a masquerade, with absent minds, they press,
+Sheer curiosity their footsteps winging;
+Ladies display their persons and their dress,
+Actors unpaid their service bringing.
+What dreams beguile you on your poet's height?
+What puts a full house in a merry mood?
+More closely view your patrons of the night!
+The half are cold, the half are rude.
+One, the play over, craves a game of cards;
+Another a wild night in wanton joy would spend.
+Poor fools the muses' fair regards
+Why court for such a paltry end?
+I tell you, give them more, still more, 'tis all I ask,
+Thus you will ne'er stray widely from the goal;
+Your audience seek to mystify, cajole;--
+To satisfy them--that's a harder task.
+What ails thee? art enraptured or distressed?
+
+POET
+
+Depart! elsewhere another servant choose.
+What! shall the bard his godlike power abuse?
+Man's loftiest right, kind nature's high bequest,
+For your mean purpose basely sport away?
+Whence comes his mastery o'er the human breast,
+Whence o'er the elements his sway,
+But from the harmony that, gushing from his soul,
+Draws back into his heart the wondrous whole?
+With careless hand when round her spindle, Nature
+Winds the interminable thread of life;
+When 'mid the clash of Being every creature
+Mingles in harsh inextricable strife;
+Who deals their course unvaried till it falleth,
+In rhythmic flow to music's measur'd tone?
+Each solitary note whose genius calleth,
+To swell the mighty choir in unison?
+Who in the raging storm sees passion low'ring?
+Or flush of earnest thought in evening's glow?
+Who every blossom in sweet spring-time flowering
+Along the loved one's path would strow?
+Who, Nature's green familiar leaves entwining,
+Wreathes glory's garland, won on every field?
+Makes sure Olympus, heavenly powers combining?
+Man's mighty spirit, in the bard reveal'd!
+
+MERRYMAN
+
+Come then, employ your lofty inspiration,
+And carry on the poet's avocation,
+Just as we carry on a love affair.
+Two meet by chance, are pleased, they linger there,
+Insensibly are link'd, they scarce know how;
+Fortune seems now propitious, adverse now,
+Then come alternate rapture and despair;
+And 'tis a true romance ere one's aware.
+Just such a drama let us now compose.
+Plunge boldly into life-its, depths disclose!
+Each lives it, not to many is it known,
+'Twill interest wheresoever seiz'd and shown;
+Bright pictures, but obscure their meaning:
+A ray of truth through error gleaming,
+Thus you the best elixir brew,
+To charm mankind, and edify them too.
+Then youth's fair blossoms crowd to view your play,
+And wait as on an oracle; while they,
+The tender souls, who love the melting mood,
+Suck from your work their melancholy food;
+Now this one, and now that, you deeply stir,
+Each sees the working of his heart laid bare.
+Their tears, their laughter, you command with ease,
+The lofty still they honor, the illusive love.
+Your finish'd gentlemen you ne'er can please;
+A growing mind alone will grateful prove.
+
+POET
+
+Then give me back youth's golden prime,
+When my own spirit too was growing,
+When from my heart th' unbidden rhyme
+Gush'd forth, a fount for ever flowing;
+Then shadowy mist the world conceal'd,
+And every bud sweet promise made,
+Of wonders yet to be reveal'd,
+As through the vales, with blooms inlaid,
+Culling a thousand flowers I stray'd.
+Naught had I, yet a rich profusion!
+The thirst for truth, joy in each fond illusion.
+Give me unquell'd those impulses to prove;--
+Rapture so deep, its ecstasy was pain,
+The power of hate, the energy of love,
+Give me, oh give me back my youth again!
+
+MERRYMAN
+
+Youth, my good friend, you certainly require
+When foes in battle round are pressing,
+When a fair maid, her heart on fire,
+Hangs on your neck with fond caressing,
+When from afar, the victor's crown,
+To reach the hard-won goal inciteth;
+When from the whirling dance, to drown
+Your sense, the nights carouse inviteth.
+But the familiar chords among
+Boldly to sweep, with graceful cunning,
+While to its goal, the verse along
+Its winding path is sweetly running;
+This task is yours, old gentlemen, today;
+Nor are you therefore less in reverence held;
+Age does not make us childish, as folk say,
+It finds us genuine children e'en in eld.
+
+MANAGER
+
+A truce to words, mere empty sound,
+Let deeds at length appear, my friends!
+While idle compliments you round,
+You might achieve some useful ends.
+Why talk of the poetic vein?
+Who hesitates will never know it;
+If bards ye are, as ye maintain,
+Now let your inspiration show it.
+To you is known what we require,
+Strong drink to sip is our desire;
+Come, brew me such without delay!
+Tomorrow sees undone, what happens not today;
+Still forward press, nor ever tire!
+The possible, with steadfast trust,
+Resolve should by the forelock grasp;
+Then she will never let go her clasp,
+And labors on, because she must.
+On German boards, you're well aware,
+The taste of each may have full sway;
+Therefore in bringing out your play,
+Nor scenes nor mechanism spare!
+Heaven's lamps employ, the greatest and the least,
+Be lavish of the stellar lights,
+Water, and fire, and rocky heights,
+Spare not at all, nor birds, nor beast.
+Thus let creation's ample sphere
+Forthwith in this our narrow booth appear,
+And with considerate speed, through fancy's spell,
+Journey from heaven, thence through the world, to hell!
+
+
+PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN
+
+THE LORD. THE HEAVENLY HOSTS. _Afterward_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+
+_The three Archangels come forward_
+
+RAPHAEL
+
+The Sun, in ancient guise, competing
+With brother spheres in rival song,
+With thunder-march, his orb completing,
+Moves his predestin'd course along;
+His aspect to the powers supernal
+Gives strength, though fathom him none may;
+Transcending thought, the works eternal
+Are fair as on the primal day.
+
+GABRIEL
+
+With speed, thought baffling, unabating,
+Earth's splendor whirls in circling flight;
+Its Eden-brightness alternating
+With solemn, awe-inspiring night;
+Ocean's broad waves in wild commotion,
+Against the rocks' deep base are hurled;
+And with the spheres, both rock and ocean
+Eternally are swiftly whirled.
+
+MICHAEL
+
+And tempests roar in emulation
+From sea to land, from land to sea,
+And raging form, without cessation,
+A chain of wondrous agency,
+Full in the thunder's path careering,
+Flaring the swift destructions play;
+But, Lord, Thy servants are revering
+The mild procession of thy day.
+
+THE THREE
+
+Thine aspect to the powers supernal
+Gives strength, though fathom thee none may;
+And all thy works, sublime, eternal,
+Are fair as on the primal day.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Since thou, O Lord, approachest us once more,
+And how it fares with us, to ask art fain,
+Since thou hast kindly welcom'd me of yore,
+Thou see'st me also now among thy train.
+Excuse me, fine harangues I cannot make,
+Though all the circle look on me with scorn;
+My pathos soon thy laughter would awake,
+Hadst thou the laughing mood not long forsworn.
+Of suns and worlds I nothing have to say,
+I see alone mankind's self-torturing pains.
+The little world-god still the self-same stamp retains,
+And is as wondrous now as on the primal day.
+Better he might have fared, poor wight,
+Hadst thou not given him a gleam of heavenly light;
+Reason he names it, and doth so
+Use it, than brutes more brutish still to grow.
+With deference to your grace, he seems to me
+Like any long-legged grasshopper to be,
+Which ever flies, and flying springs,
+And in the grass its ancient ditty sings.
+Would he but always in the grass repose!
+In every heap of dung he thrusts his nose.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Hast thou naught else to say? Is blame
+In coming here, as ever, thy sole aim?
+Does nothing on the earth to thee seem right?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+No, Lord! I find things there, as ever, in sad plight.
+Men, in their evil days, move my compassion;
+Such sorry things to plague is nothing worth.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Know'st thou my servant, Faust?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The doctor?
+
+THE LORD
+
+Right.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+He serves thee truly in a wondrous fashion.
+Poor fool! His food and drink are not of earth.
+An inward impulse hurries him afar,
+Himself half conscious of his frenzied mood;
+From heaven claimeth he the fairest star,
+And from the earth craves every highest good,
+And all that's near, and all that's far,
+Fails to allay the tumult in his blood.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Though in perplexity he serves me now,
+I soon will lead him where more light appears;
+When buds the sapling, doth the gardener know
+That flowers and fruit will deck the coming years!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What wilt thou wager? Him thou yet shall lose,
+If leave to me thou wilt but give,
+Gently to lead him as I choose!
+
+THE LORD
+
+So long as he on earth doth live,
+So long 'tis not forbidden thee.
+Man still must err, while he doth strive.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I thank you; for not willingly
+I traffic with the dead, and still aver
+That youth's plump blooming cheek I very much prefer.
+I'm not at home to corpses; 'tis my way,
+Like cats with captive mice to toy and play.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Enough! 'tis granted thee! Divert
+This mortal spirit from his primal source;
+Him, canst thou seize, thy power exert
+And lead him on thy downward course,
+Then stand abash'd, when thou perforce must own,
+A good man in his darkest aberration,
+Of the right path is conscious still.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis done! Full soon thou'lt see my exultation;
+As for my bet no fears I entertain.
+And if my end I finally should gain,
+Excuse my triumphing with all my soul.
+Dust he shall eat, ay, and with relish take,
+As did my cousin, the renownèd snake.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Here too thou'rt free to act without control;
+I ne'er have cherished hate for such as thee.
+Of all the spirits who deny,
+The scoffer is least wearisome to me.
+Ever too prone is man activity to shirk,
+In unconditioned rest he fain would live;
+Hence this companion purposely I give,
+Who stirs, excites, and must, as devil, work.
+But ye, the genuine sons of heaven, rejoice!
+In the full living beauty still rejoice!
+May that which works and lives, the ever-growing,
+In bonds of love enfold you, mercy-fraught,
+And Seeming's changeful forms, around you flowing,
+Do ye arrest, in ever-during thought!
+
+_[Heaven closes, the, Archangels disperse.]_
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES _(alone)_
+
+The ancient one I like sometimes to see,
+And not to break with him am always civil;
+'Tis courteous in so great a lord as he,
+To speak so kindly even to the devil.
+
+
+FAUST--PART I (1808)[34]
+
+TRANSLATED BY ANNA SWANWICK
+
+NIGHT
+
+_A high vaulted narrow Gothic chamber_.
+
+FAUST, _restless, seated at his desk._
+
+
+FAUST
+
+I have, alas! Philosophy,
+Medicine, Jurisprudence too,
+And to my cost Theology,
+With ardent labor, studied through.
+And here I stand, with all my lore,
+Poor fool, no wiser than before.
+Magister, doctor styled, indeed,
+Already these ten years I lead,
+Up, down, across, and to and fro,
+My pupils by the nose,--and learn,
+That we in truth can nothing know!
+That in my heart like fire doth burn.
+'Tis true, I've more cunning than all your dull tribe,
+Magister and doctor, priest, parson, and scribe;
+Scruple or doubt comes not to enthrall me,
+Neither can devil nor hell now appal me--
+Hence also my heart must all pleasure forego!
+I may not pretend aught rightly to know,
+I may not pretend, through teaching, to find
+A means to improve or convert mankind.
+Then I have neither goods nor treasure,
+No worldly honor, rank, or pleasure;
+No dog in such fashion would longer live!
+Therefore myself to magic I give,
+In hope, through spirit-voice and might,
+Secrets now veiled to bring to light,
+That I no more, with aching brow,
+Need speak of what I nothing know;
+That I the force may recognize
+That binds creation's inmost energies;
+Her vital powers, her embryo seeds survey,
+And fling the trade in empty words away.
+O full-orb'd moon, did but thy rays
+Their last upon mine anguish gaze!
+Beside this desk, at dead of night,
+Oft have I watched to hail thy light:
+Then, pensive friend! o'er book and scroll,
+With soothing power, thy radiance stole!
+In thy dear light, ah, might I climb,
+Freely, some mountain height sublime,
+Round mountain caves with spirits ride,
+In thy mild haze o'er meadows glide,
+And, purged from knowledge-fumes, renew
+My spirit, in thy healing dew!
+
+Woe's me! still prison'd in the gloom
+Of this abhorr'd and musty room!
+Where heaven's dear light itself doth pass
+But dimly through the painted glass!
+Hemmed in by book-heaps, piled around,
+Worm-eaten, hid 'neath dust and mold,
+Which to the high vault's topmast bound,
+A smoke-stained paper doth enfold;
+With boxes round thee piled, and glass,
+And many a useless instrument,
+With old ancestral lumber blent--
+This is thy world! a world! alas!
+And dost thou ask why heaves thy heart,
+With tighten'd pressure in thy breast?
+Why the dull ache will not depart,
+By which thy life-pulse is oppress'd?
+Instead of nature's living sphere,
+Created for mankind of old,
+Brute skeletons surround thee here,
+And dead men's bones in smoke and mold.
+Up! Forth into the distant land!
+Is not this book of mystery
+By Nostradamus' proper hand,
+An all-sufficient guide? Thou'lt see
+The courses of the stars unroll'd;
+When nature doth her thoughts unfold
+To thee, thy-soul shall rise, and seek
+Communion high with her to hold,
+As spirit cloth with spirit speak!
+Vain by dull poring to divine
+The meaning of each hallow'd sign.
+Spirits! I feel you hov'ring near;
+Make answer, if my voice ye hear!
+
+[_He opens the book and perceives the sign of the
+Macrocosmos_.]
+
+Ah! at this spectacle through every sense,
+What sudden ecstasy of joy is flowing!
+I feel new rapture, hallow'd and intense,
+Through every nerve and vein with ardor glowing.
+Was it a god who character'd this scroll,
+The tumult in my-spirit healing,
+O'er my sad heart with rapture stealing,
+And by a mystic impulse, to my soul,
+The powers of nature all around revealing.
+Am I a god? What light intense
+In these pure symbols do I see
+Nature exert her vital energy?
+Now of the wise man's words I learn the sense;
+ "Unlock'd the spirit-world is lying,
+ Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead!
+ Up scholar, lave, with zeal undying,
+ Thine earthly breast in the morning-red!"
+
+[_He contemplates the sign_.]
+
+How all things live and work, and ever blending,
+Weave one vast whole from Being's ample range!
+How powers celestial, rising and descending,
+Their golden buckets ceaseless interchange!
+Their flight on rapture-breathing pinions winging,
+From heaven to earth their genial influence bringing.
+Through the wild sphere their chimes melodious ringing!
+
+A wondrous show! but ah! a show alone!
+Where shall I grasp thee, infinite nature, where?
+Ye breasts, ye fountains of all life, whereon
+Hang heaven and earth, from which the withered heart
+For solace yearns, ye still impart
+Your sweet and fostering tides-where are ye-where?
+Ye gush, and must I languish in despair?
+
+[_He turns over the leaves of the book impatiently, and
+perceives the sign of the Earth-spirit_.]
+
+How all unlike the influence of this sign!
+Earth-spirit, thou to me art nigher,
+E'en now my strength is rising higher,
+E'en now I glow as with new wine;
+Courage I feel, abroad the world to dare,
+The woe of earth, the bliss of earth to bear,
+With storms to wrestle, brave the lightning's glare,
+And mid the crashing shipwreck not despair.
+
+Clouds gather over me--
+The moon conceals her light--
+The lamp is quench'd--
+Vapors are arising--Quiv'ring round my head
+Flash the red beams--Down from the vaulted roof
+A shuddering horror floats,
+And seizes me!
+I feel it, spirit, prayer-compell'd, 'tis thou
+Art hovering near!
+Unveil thyself!
+Ha! How my heart is riven now!
+Each sense, with eager palpitation,
+Is strain'd to catch some new sensation!
+I feel my heart surrender'd unto thee!
+Thou must! Thou must! Though life should be the fee!
+
+[_He seizes the book, and pronounces mysteriously the
+sign of the spirit. A ruddy flame flashes up; the
+spirit appears in the flame_.]
+
+SPIRIT
+
+Who calls me?
+
+FAUST (_turning aside_)
+
+Dreadful shape!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+With might,
+Thou hast compell'd me to appear,
+Long hast been sucking at my sphere,
+And now--
+
+FAUST
+
+Woe's me! I cannot bear thy sight!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+To see me thou dost breathe thine invocation,
+My voice to hear, to gaze upon my brow;
+Me doth thy strong entreaty bow--
+Lo! I am here!--What cowering agitation
+Grasps thee, the demigod! Where's now the soul's deep cry?
+Where is the breast, which in its depths a world conceiv'd,
+And bore and cherished? which, with ecstasy,
+To rank itself with us, the spirits, heaved?
+Where art thou, Faust? Whose voice heard I resound
+Who toward me press'd with energy profound?
+Art thou he? Thou,--who by my breath art blighted,
+Who, in his spirit's depths affrighted,
+Trembles, a crush'd and writhing worm!
+
+FAUST
+
+Shall I yield, thing of flame, to thee?
+Faust, and thine equal, I am he!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+In the currents of life, in action's storm,
+I float and I wave
+With billowy motion!
+Birth and the grave,
+O limitless ocean,
+A constant weaving
+With change still rife,
+A restless heaving,
+A glowing life---
+Thus time's whirring loom unceasing I ply,
+And weave the life-garment of deity.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou, restless spirit, dost from end to end
+O'ersweep the world; how near I feel to thee!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+Thou'rt like the spirit, thou dost comprehend,
+Not me! [_Vanishes_.]
+
+FAUST (_deeply moved_)
+
+Not thee
+Whom then?
+I, God's own image!
+And not rank with thee! [_A knock_.]
+Oh death! I know it-'tis my famulus--
+My fairest fortune now escapes!
+That all these visionary shapes
+A soulless groveller should banish thus!
+
+[WAGNER _in his dressing gown and night-cap, a lamp
+in his hand_. FAUST _turns round reluctantly_.]
+
+WAGNER
+
+Pardon! I heard you here declaim;
+A Grecian tragedy you doubtless read?
+Improvement in this art is now my aim,
+For now-a-days it much avails. Indeed
+An actor, oft I've heard it said, as teacher,
+May give instruction to a preacher.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay, if your priest should be an actor too,
+As not improbably may come to pass.
+
+WAGNER
+
+When in his study pent the whole year through,
+Man views the world, as through an optic glass,
+On a chance holiday, and scarcely then,
+How by persuasion can he govern men?
+
+FAUST
+
+If feeling prompt not, if it doth not flow
+Fresh from the spirit's depths, with strong control
+Swaying to rapture every listener's soul,
+Idle your toil; the chase you may forego!
+Brood o'er your task! Together glue,
+Cook from another's feast your own ragout,
+Still prosecute your paltry game,
+And fan your ash-heaps into flame!
+Thus children's wonder you'll excite,
+And apes', if such your appetite;
+But that which issues from the heart alone,
+Will bend the hearts of others to your own.
+
+WAGNER
+
+The speaker in delivery, will find
+Success alone; I still am far behind.
+
+FAUST
+
+A worthy object still pursue!
+Be not a hollow tinkling fool!
+Sound understanding, judgment true,
+Find utterance without art or rule;
+And when in earnest you are moved to speak,
+Then is it needful cunning words to seek?
+Your fine harangues, so polish'd in their kind,
+Wherein the shreds of human thought ye twist,
+Are unrefreshing as the empty wind,
+Whistling through wither'd leaves and autumn mist!
+
+WAGNER
+
+Oh God! How long is art,
+Our life how short! With earnest zeal
+Still as I ply the critic's task, I feel
+A strange oppression both of head and heart.
+The very means--how hardly are they won,
+By which we to the fountains rise!
+And, haply, ere one half the course is run,
+Check'd in his progress, the poor devil dies.
+
+FAUST
+
+Parchment, is that the sacred fount whence roll
+Waters he thirsteth not who once hath quaffed?
+Oh, if it gush not from thine inmost soul,
+Thou hast not won the life-restoring draught.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Your pardon! 'tis delightful to transport
+Oneself into the spirit of the past,
+To see in times before us how a wise man thought,
+And what a glorious height we have achieved at last.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay, truly! even to the loftiest star!
+To us, my friend, the ages that are pass'd
+A book with seven seals, close-fasten'd, are;
+And what the spirit of the times men call,
+Is merely their own spirit after all,
+Wherein, distorted oft, the times are glass'd.
+Then truly, 'tis a sight to grieve the soul!
+At the first glance we fly it in dismay;
+A very lumber-room, a rubbish-hole;
+At best a sort of mock-heroic play,
+With saws pragmatical, and maxims sage,
+To suit the puppets and their mimic stage.
+
+WAGNER
+
+But then the world and man, his heart and brain!
+Touching these things all men would something know.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay! what 'mong men as knowledge doth obtain!
+Who on the child its true name dares bestow?
+The few who somewhat of these things have known,
+Who their full hearts unguardedly reveal'd,
+Nor thoughts, nor feelings, from the mob conceal'd,
+Have died on crosses, or in flames been thrown.--
+Excuse me, friend, far now the night is spent,
+For this time we must say adieu.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Still to watch on I had been well content,
+Thus to converse so learnedly with you.
+But as tomorrow will be Easter-day,
+Some further questions grant, I pray;
+With diligence to study still I fondly cling;
+Already I know much, but would know everything. [Exit.]
+
+FAUST (_alone_)
+
+How him alone all hope abandons never,
+To empty trash who clings, with zeal untired,
+With greed for treasure gropes, and, joy-inspir'd,
+Exults if earth-worms second his endeavor.
+
+And dare a voice of merely human birth,
+E'en here, where shapes immortal throng'd, intrude?
+Yet ah! thou poorest of the sons of earth,
+For once, I e'en to thee feel gratitude.
+Despair the power of sense did well-nigh blast,
+And thou didst save me ere I sank dismay'd;
+So giant-like the vision seem'd, so vast,
+I felt myself shrink dwarf'd as I survey'd!
+
+I, God's own image, from this toil of clay
+Already freed, with eager joy who hail'd
+The mirror of eternal truth unveil'd,
+Mid light effulgent and celestial day
+I, more than cherub, whose unfetter'd soul
+With penetrative glance aspir'd to flow
+Through nature's veins, and, still creating, know
+The life of gods,--how am I punish'd now!
+One thunder-word hath hurl'd me from the goal!
+
+Spirit! I dare not lift me to thy sphere.
+What though my power compell'd thee to appear,
+My art was powerless to detain thee here.
+In that great moment, rapture-fraught,
+I felt myself so small, so great;
+Fiercely didst thrust me from the realm of thought
+Back on humanity's uncertain fate!
+Who'll teach me now? What ought I to forego?
+Ought I that impulse to obey?
+Alas! our every deed, as well as every woe,
+Impedes the tenor of life's onward way!
+
+E'en to the noblest by the soul conceiv'd,
+Some feelings cling of baser quality;
+And when the goods of this world are achiev'd,
+Each nobler aim is term'd a cheat, a lie.
+Our aspirations, our soul's genuine life,
+Grow torpid in the din of earthly strife.
+
+Though youthful phantasy, while hope inspires,
+Stretch o'er the infinite her wing sublime,
+A narrow compass limits her desires,
+When wreck'd our fortunes in the gulf of time.
+In the deep heart of man care builds her nest,
+O'er secret woes she broodeth there,
+Sleepless she rocks herself and scareth joy and rest;
+Still is she wont some new disguise to wear--
+She may as house and court, as wife and child appear,
+As dagger, poison, fire and flood;
+Imagined evils chill thy blood,
+And what thou ne'er shalt lose, o'er that dost shed the tear.
+
+I am not like the gods! Feel it I must;
+I'm like the earth-worm, writhing in the dust,
+Which, as on dust it feeds, its native fare,
+Crushed 'neath the passer's tread, lies buried there.
+
+Is it not dust, wherewith this lofty wall,
+With hundred shelves, confines me round;
+Rubbish, in thousand shapes, may I not call
+What in this moth-world doth my being bound?
+Here, what doth fail me, shall I find?
+Read in a thousand tomes that, everywhere,
+Self-torture is the lot of human-kind,
+With but one mortal happy, here and there
+Thou hollow skull, that grin, what should it say,
+But that thy brain, like mine, of old perplexed,
+Still yearning for the truth, hath sought the light of day,
+And in the twilight wandered, sorely vexed?
+Ye instruments, forsooth, ye mock at me,--
+With wheel, and cog, and ring, and cylinder;
+To nature's portals ye should be the key;
+Cunning your wards, and yet the bolts ye fail to stir.
+Inscrutable in broadest light,
+To be unveil'd by force she doth refuse,
+What she reveals not to thy mental sight
+Thou wilt not wrest from her with levers and with screws.
+Old useless furnitures, yet stand ye here,
+Because my sire ye served, now dead and gone.
+Old scroll, the smoke of years dost wear,
+So long as o'er this desk the sorry lamp hath shone.
+Better my little means hath squandered quite away
+Than burden'd by that little here to sweat and groan!
+Wouldst thou possess thy heritage, essay
+By use to render it thine own!
+What we employ not but impedes our way;
+That which the hour creates, that can it use alone!
+
+But wherefore to yon spot is riveted my gaze?
+Is yonder flasket there a magnet to my sight?
+Whence this mild radiance that around me plays,
+As when, 'mid forest gloom, reigneth the moon's soft light?
+Hail, precious phial! Thee, with reverent awe,
+Down from thine old receptacle I draw!
+Science in thee I hail and human art.
+
+Essence of deadliest powers, refin'd and sure,
+Of soothing anodynes abstraction pure,
+Now in thy master's need thy grace impart!
+I gaze on thee, my pain is lull'd to rest;
+I grasp thee, calm'd the tumult in my breast;
+The flood-tide of my spirit ebbs away;
+Onward I'm summon'd o'er a boundless main,
+Calm at my feet expands the glassy plain,
+To shores unknown allures a brighter day.
+
+Lo, where a car of fire, on airy pinion,
+Comes floating towards me! I'm prepar'd to fly
+By a new track through ether's wide dominion,
+To distant spheres of pure activity.
+This life intense, this godlike ecstasy--
+Worm that thou art such rapture canst thou earn!
+Only resolve, with courage stern and high,
+Thy visage from the radiant sun to turn!
+Dare with determin'd will to burst the portals
+Past which in terror others fain would steal!
+Now is the time, through deeds, to show that mortals
+The calm sublimity of gods can feel;
+To shudder not at yonder dark abyss
+Where phantasy creates her own self-torturing brood;
+Right onward to the yawning gulf to press,
+Around whose narrow jaws rolleth hell's fiery flood;
+With glad resolve to take the fatal leap,
+Though danger threaten thee, to sink in endless sleep!
+
+Pure crystal goblet! forth I draw thee now
+From out thine antiquated case, where thou
+Forgotten hast reposed for many a year!
+Oft at my father's revels thou didst shine;
+To glad the earnest guests was thine,
+As each to other passed the generous cheer.
+The gorgeous brede of figures, quaintly wrought,
+Which he who quaff'd must first in rhyme expound,
+Then drain the goblet at one draught profound,
+Hath nights of boyhood to fond memory brought.
+I to my neighbor shall not reach thee now,
+Nor on thy rich device shall I my cunning show.
+Here is a juice, makes drunk without delay;
+Its dark brown flood thy crystal round doth fill;
+Let this last draught, the product of my skill,
+My own free choice, be quaff'd with resolute will,
+A solemn festive greeting, to the coming day!
+           [_He places the goblet to his mouth_.]
+
+[_The ringing of bells, and choral voices_.]
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS
+
+Christ is arisen!
+Mortal, all hail to thee,
+Thou whom mortality,
+Earth's sad reality,
+Held as in prison.
+
+FAUST
+
+What hum melodious, what clear silvery chime,
+Thus draws the goblet from my lips away?
+Ye deep-ton'd bells, do ye, with voice sublime,
+Announce the solemn dawn of Easter-day?
+Sweet choir! are ye the hymn of comfort singing,
+Which once around the darkness of the grave,
+From seraph-voices, in glad triumph ringing,
+Of a new covenant assurance gave?
+
+CHORUS OF WOMEN
+
+We, his true-hearted,
+With spices and myrrh.
+Embalmed the departed,
+And swathed Him with care;
+Here we conveyed Him,
+Our Master, so dear;
+Alas! Where we laid Him,
+The Christ is not here.
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS
+
+Christ is arisen!
+Blessed the loving one,
+Who from earth's trial-throes,
+Healing and strengthening woes,
+Soars as from prison.
+
+FAUST
+
+Wherefore, ye tones celestial, sweet and strong,
+Come ye a dweller in the dust to seek?
+Ring out your chimes believing crowds among,
+The message well I hear, my faith alone is weak;
+From faith her darling, miracle, hath sprung.
+Aloft to yonder spheres I dare not soar,
+Whence sound the tidings of great joy;
+And yet, with this sweet strain familiar when a boy,
+Back it recalleth me to life once more.
+Then would celestial love, with holy kiss,
+Come o'er me in the Sabbath's stilly hour,
+While, fraught with solemn meaning and mysterious power,
+Chim'd the deep-sounding bell, and prayer was bliss;
+A yearning impulse, undefin'd yet dear,
+Drove me to wander on through wood and field;
+With heaving breast and many a burning tear,
+I felt with holy joy a world reveal'd.
+Gay sports and festive hours proclaim'd with joyous pealing
+This Easter hymn in days of old;
+And fond remembrance now doth me, with childlike feeling,
+Back from the last, the solemn step, withhold.
+O still sound on, thou sweet celestial strain!
+The tear-drop flows--Earth, I am thine again!
+
+CHORUS OF DISCIPLES
+
+He whom we mourned as dead,
+Living and glorious,
+
+From the dark grave hath fled,
+O'er death victorious;
+Almost creative bliss
+Waits on His growing powers;
+Ah! Him on earth we miss;
+Sorrow and grief are ours.
+Yearning He left His own,
+Mid sore annoy;
+Ah! we must needs bemoan,
+Master, thy joy!
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS
+
+Christ is arisen,
+Redeem'd from decay.
+The bonds which imprison
+Your souls, rend away!
+Praising the Lord with zeal,
+By deeds that love reveal,
+Like brethren true and leal
+Sharing the daily meal,
+To all that sorrow feel
+Whisp'ring of heaven's weal,
+Still is the Master near,
+Still is He here!
+
+BEFORE THE GATE
+_Promenaders of all sorts pass out_.
+
+ARTISANS
+
+Why choose ye that direction, pray?
+
+OTHERS
+
+To the hunting-lodge we're on our way.
+
+THE FIRST
+
+We toward the mill are strolling on.
+
+A MECHANIC
+
+A walk to Wasserhof were best.
+
+A SECOND
+
+The road is not a pleasant one.
+
+THE OTHERS
+
+What will you do?
+
+A THIRD
+
+I'll join the rest.
+
+A FOURTH
+
+Let's up to Burghof, there you'll find good cheer,
+The prettiest maidens and the best of beer,
+And brawls of a prime sort.
+
+A FIFTH
+
+You scapegrace! How?
+Your skin still itching for a row?
+Thither I will not go, I loathe the place.
+
+SERVANT GIRL
+
+No, no! I to the town my steps retrace.
+
+ANOTHER
+
+Near yonder poplars he is sure to be.
+
+THE FIRST
+
+And if he is, what matters it to me!
+With you he'll walk, he'll dance with none but you,
+And with your pleasures what have I to do?
+
+THE SECOND
+
+Today he will not be alone, he said
+His friend would be with him, the curly-head.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Why how those buxom girls step on!
+Come, brother, we will follow them anon.
+Strong beer, a damsel smartly dress'd,
+Stinging tobacco--these I love the best.
+
+BURGHER'S DAUGHTER
+
+Look at those handsome fellows there!
+'Tis really shameful, I declare;
+The very best society they shun,
+After those servant-girls forsooth, to run.
+
+SECOND STUDENT (_to the first_)
+
+Not quite so fast! for in our rear,
+Two girls, well-dress'd, are drawing near;
+Not far from us the one doth dwell,
+And, sooth to say, I like her well.
+They walk demurely, yet you'll see,
+That they will let us join them presently.
+
+THE FIRST
+
+Not I! restraints of all kinds I detest.
+Quick! let us catch the wild-game ere it flies;
+The hand on Saturday the mop that plies
+Will on the Sunday fondle you the best.
+
+BURGHER
+
+No, this new Burgomaster; I like him not, God knows;
+No, he's in office; daily more arrogant he grows;
+And for the town, what doth he do for it?
+Are not things worse from day to day?
+To more restraints we must submit;
+And taxes more than ever pay.
+
+BEGGAR (_sings_)
+
+Kind gentlemen and ladies fair,
+So rosy-cheek'd and trimly dress'd,
+Be pleas'd to listen to my prayer;
+Relieve and pity the distress'd.
+Let me not vainly sing my lay!
+His heart's most glad whose hand is free.
+Now when all men keep holiday,
+Should be a harvest-day to me.
+
+OTHER BURGHER
+
+On holidays and Sundays naught know I more inviting
+Than chatting about war and war's alarms,
+When folk in Turkey, up in arms,
+Far off, are 'gainst each other fighting.
+We at the window stand, our glasses drain
+And watch adown the stream the painted vessels gliding;
+Then joyful we at eve come home again,
+And peaceful times we bless, peace long-abiding.
+
+THIRD BURGHER
+
+Ay, neighbor! So let matters stand for me!
+There they may scatter one another's brains,
+And wild confusion round them see--
+So here at home in quiet all remains!
+
+OLD WOMAN (_to the_ BURGHERS' DAUGHTERS)
+
+Heyday! How smart! The fresh young blood!
+Who would not fall in love with you?
+Not quite so proud! 'Tis well and good!
+And what you wish, that I could help you to.
+
+BURGHER'S DAUGHTER
+
+Come, Agatha! I care not to be seen
+Walking in public with these witches. True,
+My future lover, last St. Andrew's E'en,
+In flesh and blood she brought before my view.
+
+ANOTHER
+
+And mine she show'd me also in the glass.
+A soldier's figure, with companions bold;
+I look around, I seek him as I pass--
+In vain, his form I nowhere can behold.
+
+SOLDIERS
+
+Fortress with turrets
+And walls high in air,
+Damsel disdainful,
+Haughty and fair--
+These be my prey!
+Bold is the venture,
+Costly the pay!
+
+Hark, how the trumpet
+Thither doth call us
+Where either pleasure
+Or death may befall us!
+Hail to the tumult!
+Life's in the field!
+Damsel and fortress
+To us must yield.
+Bold is the venture,
+Costly the pay!
+Gaily the soldier
+Marches away.
+
+FAUST _and_ WAGNER
+
+FAUST
+
+Loosed from their fetters are streams and rills
+Through the gracious spring-tide's all-quickening glow;
+Hope's budding joy in the vale doth blow;
+Old Winter back to the savage hills
+Withdraweth his force, decrepid now.
+Thence only impotent icy grains
+Scatters he as he wings his flight,
+Striping with sleet the verdant plains;
+But the sun endureth no trace of white;
+Everywhere growth and movement are rife,
+All things investing with hues of life
+Though flowers are lacking, varied of dye,
+Their colors the motley throng supply.
+Turn thee around, and, from this height,
+Back to the town direct thy sight.
+Forth from the hollow, gloomy gate,
+Stream forth the masses, in bright array.
+Gladly seek they the sun today;
+
+The Lord's Resurrection they celebrate:
+For they themselves have risen, with joy,
+From tenement sordid, from cheerless room,
+From bonds of toil, from care and annoy,
+From gable and roof's o'erhanging gloom,
+From crowded alley and narrow street,
+And from the churches' awe-breathing night
+All now have come forth into the light.
+Look, only look, on nimble feet,
+Through garden and field how spread the throng,
+How o'er the river's ample sheet
+Many a gay wherry glides along;
+And see, deep sinking in the tide,
+Pushes the last boat now away.
+E'en from yon far hill's path-worn side,
+Flash the bright hues of garments gay.
+Hark! Sounds of village mirth arise;
+This is the people's paradise.
+Both great and small send up a cheer;
+Here am I man, I feel it here.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Sir Doctor, in a walk with you
+There's honor and instruction too;
+Yet here alone I care not to resort,
+Because I coarseness hate of every sort.
+This fiddling, shouting, skittling, I detest;
+I hate the tumult of the vulgar throng;
+They roar as by the evil one possess'd,
+And call it pleasure, call it song.
+
+PEASANTS (_under the linden-tree_)
+
+_Dance and Sing_.
+
+  The shepherd for the dance was dress'd,
+  With ribbon, wreath, and colored vest,
+  A gallant show displaying.
+  And round about the linden-tree,
+
+  They footed it right merrily.
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  So fiddle-bow was braying.
+  Our swain amidst the circle press'd,
+  He push'd a maiden trimly dress'd,
+  And jogg'd her with his elbow;
+  The buxom damsel turn'd her head,
+  "Now that's a stupid trick!" she said,
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  Don't be so rude, good fellow!
+
+  Swift in the circle they advanced,
+  They danced to right, to left they danced,
+  And all the skirts were swinging.
+  And they grew red, and they grew warm,
+  Panting, they rested arm in arm,
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  To hip their elbow bringing.
+
+  Don't make so free! How many a maid
+  Has been betroth'd and then betray'd;
+  And has repented after!
+  Yet still he flatter'd her aside,
+  And from the linden, far and wide,
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  Rang fiddle-bow and laughter.
+
+OLD PEASANT
+
+Doctor, 'tis really kind of you,
+To condescend to come this way,
+A highly learned man like you,
+To join our mirthful throng today.
+Our fairest cup I offer you,
+Which we with sparkling drink have crown'd,
+And pledging you, I pray aloud,
+That every drop within its round,
+While it your present thirst allays,
+May swell the number of your days.
+
+FAUST
+
+I take the cup you kindly reach,
+Thanks and prosperity to each!
+[_The crowd gather round in a circle_.]
+
+OLD PEASANT
+
+Ay, truly! 'tis well done, that you
+Our festive meeting thus attend;
+You, who in evil days of yore,
+So often show'd yourself our friend!
+Full many a one stands living here,
+Who from the fever's deadly blast
+Your father rescu'd, when his skill
+The fatal sickness stay'd at last.
+A young man then, each house you sought,
+Where reign'd the mortal pestilence.
+Corpse after corpse was carried forth,
+But still unscath'd you issued thence.
+Sore then your trials and severe;
+The Helper yonder aids the helper here.
+
+ALL
+
+Heaven bless the trusty friend, and long
+To help the poor his life prolong!
+
+FAUST
+
+To Him above in homage bend,
+Who prompts the helper and Who help doth send.
+[_He proceeds with_ WAGNER.]
+
+WAGNER
+
+What feelings, great man, must thy breast inspire,
+At homage paid thee by this crowd! Thrice blest
+Who from the gifts by him possessed
+Such benefit can draw! The sire
+Thee to his boy with reverence shows,
+
+They press around, inquire, advance,
+Hush'd is the fiddle, check'd the dance.
+Where thou dost pass they stand in rows,
+And each aloft his bonnet throws,
+But little fails and they to thee,
+As though the Host came by, would bend the knee.
+
+FAUST
+
+A few steps further, up to yonder stone!
+Here rest we from our walk. In times long past,
+Absorb'd in thought, here oft I sat alone,
+And disciplin'd myself with prayer and fast.
+Then rich in hope, with faith sincere,
+With sighs, and hands in anguish press'd,
+The end of that sore plague, with many a tear,
+From heaven's dread Lord, I sought to wrest.
+The crowd's applause assumes a scornful tone.
+Oh, could'st thou in my inner being read
+How little either sire or son
+Of such renown deserves the meed!
+
+My sire, of good repute, and sombre mood,
+O'er nature's powers and every mystic zone,
+With honest zeal, but methods of his own,
+With toil fantastic loved to brood;
+
+His time in dark alchemic cell,
+With brother-adepts he would spend,
+And there antagonists compel
+Through numberless receipts to blend.
+A ruddy lion there, a suitor bold,
+In tepid bath was with the lily wed.
+Thence both, while open flames around them roll'd,
+Were tortur'd to another bridal bed.
+
+Was then the youthful queen descried
+With varied colors in the flask--
+This was our medicine; the patients died;
+"Who were restored?" none cared to ask.
+With our infernal mixture thus, ere long.
+These hills and peaceful vales among
+We rag'd more fiercely than the pest;
+Myself the deadly poison did to thousands give;
+They pined away, I yet must live
+To hear the reckless murderers blest.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Why let this thought your soul o'ercast?
+Can man do more than with nice skill,
+With firm and conscientious will,
+Practise the art transmitted from the past?
+If thou thy sire dost honor in thy youth,
+His lore thou gladly wilt receive;
+In manhood, dost thou spread the bounds of truth,
+Then may thy son a higher goal achieve.
+
+FAUST
+
+How blest, in whom the fond desire
+From error's sea to rise, hope still renews!
+What a man knows not, that he doth require,
+And what he knoweth, that he cannot use.
+But let not moody thoughts their shadow throw
+O'er the calm beauty of this hour serene!
+In the rich sunset see how brightly glow
+Yon cottage homes, girt round with verdant green!
+Slow sinks the orb, the day is now no more;
+Yonder he hastens to diffuse new life.
+Oh for a pinion from the earth to soar,
+And after, ever after him to strive!
+Then should I see the world below,
+Bathed in the deathless evening-beams,
+The vales reposing, every height a-glow,
+The silver brooklets meeting golden streams.
+The savage mountain, with its cavern'd side,
+Bars not my godlike progress. Lo, the ocean,
+Its warm bays heaving with a tranquil motion,
+To my rapt vision opes its ample tide!
+But now at length the god appears to sink
+A new-born impulse wings my flight,
+Onward I press, his quenchless light to drink,
+The day before me, and behind the night,
+The pathless waves beneath, and over me the skies.
+Fair dream, it vanish'd with the parting day!
+Alas! that when on spirit-wing we rise,
+No wing material lifts our mortal clay.
+But 'tis our inborn impulse, deep and strong,
+Upwards and onwards still to urge our flight,
+When far above us pours its thrilling song
+The sky-lark, lost in azure light;
+When on extended wing amain
+O'er pine-crown'd height the eagle soars;
+And over moor and lake, the crane
+Still striveth toward its native shores.
+
+WAGNER
+
+To strange conceits oft I myself must own,
+But impulse such as this I ne'er have known
+Nor woods, nor fields, can long our thoughts engage;
+Their wings I envy not the feather'd kind;
+Far otherwise the pleasures of the mind
+Bear us from book to book, from page to page I
+Then winter nights grow cheerful; keen delight
+Warms every limb; and ah! when we unroll
+Some old and precious parchment, at the sight
+All heaven itself descends upon the soul.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thy heart by one sole impulse is possess'd;
+Unconscious of the other still remain!
+Two souls, alas! are lodg'd within my breast,
+Which struggle there for undivided reign
+One to the world, with obstinate desire,
+And closely-cleaving organs, still adheres;
+Above the mist, the other doth aspire,
+With sacred vehemence, to purer spheres.
+Oh, are there spirits in the air
+Who float 'twixt heaven and earth dominion wielding,
+Stoop hither from your golden atmosphere,
+
+Lead me to scenes, new life and fuller yielding!
+A magic mantle did I but possess,
+Abroad to waft me as on viewless wings,
+I'd prize it far beyond the costliest dress,
+Nor would I change it for the robe of kings.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Call not the spirits who on mischief wait!
+Their troop familiar, streaming through the air,
+From every quarter threaten man's estate,
+And danger in a thousand forms prepare!
+They drive impetuous from the frozen north,
+With fangs sharp-piercing, and keen arrowy tongues;
+From the ungenial east they issue forth,
+And prey, with parching breath, upon thy lungs;
+If, waft'd on the desert's flaming wing,
+They from the south heap fire upon the brain,
+Refreshment from the west at first they bring,
+Anon to drown thyself and field and plain.
+In wait for mischief, they are prompt to hear;
+With guileful purpose our behests obey;
+Like ministers of grace they oft appear,
+And lisp like angels, to betray.
+But let us hence! Gray eve doth all things blend,
+The air grows chill, the mists descend!
+'Tis in the evening first our home we prize--
+Why stand you thus, and gaze with wondering eyes?
+What in the gloom thus moves you?
+
+FAUST
+
+                                  Yon black hound
+See 'st thou, through corn and stubble scampering round?
+
+WAGNER
+
+I've mark'd him long, naught strange in him I see!
+
+FAUST
+
+Note him! What takest thou the brute to be?
+
+WAGNER
+
+But for a poodle, whom his instinct serves
+His master's track to find once more.
+
+FAUST
+
+Dost mark how round us, with wide spiral curves,
+He wheels, each circle closer than before?
+And, if I err not, he appears to me
+A line of 'fire upon his track to leave.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Naught but a poodle black of hue I see;
+'Tis some illusion doth your sight deceive.
+
+FAUST
+
+Methinks a magic coil our feet around,
+He for a future snare doth lightly spread.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Around us as in doubt I see him shyly bound,
+Since he two strangers seeth in his master's stead.
+
+FAUST
+
+The circle narrows, he's already near!
+
+WAGNER
+
+A dog dost see, no spectre have we here;
+He growls, doubts, lays him on his belly too,
+And wags his tail-as dogs are wont to do.
+
+FAUST
+
+Come hither, Sirrah! join our company!
+
+WAGNER
+
+A very poodle, he appears to be!
+Thou standest still, for thee he'll wait;
+Thou speak'st to him, he fawns upon thee straight;
+Aught thou mayst lose, again he'll bring,
+And for thy stick will into water spring.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou'rt right indeed; no traces now I see
+Whatever of a spirit's agency,
+'Tis training--nothing more.
+
+WAGNER
+
+                   A dog well taught
+E'en by the wisest of us may be sought.
+Ay, to your favor he's entitled too,
+Apt scholar of the students, 'tis his due!
+
+[_They enter the gate of the town_.]
+
+STUDY
+
+FAUST (_entering with, the poodle_)
+
+Now field and meadow I've forsaken;
+O'er them deep night her veil doth draw;
+In us the better soul doth waken,
+With feelings of foreboding awe.
+All lawless promptings, deeds unholy,
+Now slumber, and all wild desires;
+The love of man doth sway us wholly,
+And love to God the soul inspires.
+
+Peace, poodle, peace! Scamper not thus; obey me!
+Why at the threshold snuffest thou so?
+Behind the stove now quietly lay thee,
+My softest cushion to thee I'll throw.
+As thou, without, didst please and amuse me,
+Running and frisking about on the hill,
+So tendance now I will not refuse thee;
+A welcome guest, if thou'lt be still.
+
+Ah! when the friendly taper gloweth,
+Once more within our narrow cell,
+Then in the heart itself that knoweth,
+A light the darkness doth dispel.
+Reason her voice resumes; returneth
+Hope's gracious bloom, with promise rife;
+For streams of life the spirit yearneth,
+Ah! for the very fount of life.
+Poodle, snarl not! with the tone that arises,
+Hallow'd and peaceful, my soul within,
+Accords not thy growl, thy bestial din.
+We find it not strange, that man despises
+What he conceives not;
+That he the good and fair misprizes--
+Finding them often beyond his ken;
+Will the dog snarl at them like men?
+
+But ah! Despite my will, it stands confessed;
+Contentment welleth up no longer in my breast.
+Yet wherefore must the stream, alas, so soon be dry,
+That we once more athirst should lie?
+Full oft this sad experience hath been mine;
+Nathless the want admits of compensation;
+For things above the earth we learn to pine,
+Our spirits yearn for revelation,
+Which nowhere burns with purer beauty blent,
+Than here in the New Testament.
+To ope the ancient text an impulse strong
+Impels me, and its sacred lore,
+With honest purpose to explore,
+And render into my loved German tongue.
+
+[_He opens a volume and applies himself to it_.]
+
+'Tis writ, "In the beginning was the Word!"
+I pause, perplex'd! Who now will help afford?
+I cannot the mere Word so highly prize;
+I must translate it otherwise,
+If by the spirit guided as I read.
+"In the beginning was the Sense!" Take heed,
+The import of this primal sentence weigh,
+Lest thy too hasty pen be led astray!
+Is force creative then of Sense the dower?
+"In the beginning was the Power!"
+Thus should it stand: yet, while the line I trace,
+A something warns me, once more to efface.
+The spirit aids! from anxious scruples freed,
+I write, "In the beginning was the Deed!"
+
+Am I with thee my room to share,
+Poodle, thy barking now forbear,
+Forbear thy howling!
+Comrade so noisy, ever growling,
+I cannot suffer here to dwell.
+One or the other, mark me well,
+Forthwith must leave the cell.
+I'm loath the guest-right to withhold;
+The door's ajar, the passage clear;
+But what must now mine eyes behold!
+Are nature's laws suspended here?
+Real is it, or a phantom show?
+In length and breadth how doth my poodle grow!
+He lifts himself with threat'ning mien,
+In likeness of a dog no longer seen!
+What spectre have I harbor'd thus!
+Huge as a hippopotamus,
+With fiery eye, terrific tooth!
+Ah! now I know thee, sure enough!
+For such a base, half-hellish brood,
+The key of Solomon is good.
+
+SPIRITS (_without_)
+
+Captur'd there within is one!
+Stay without and follow none!
+Like a fox in iron snare,
+Hell's old lynx is quaking there,
+ But take heed'!
+Hover round, above, below,
+ To and fro,
+Then from durance is he freed!
+Can ye aid him, spirits all,
+Leave him not in mortal thrall!
+Many a time and oft hath he
+Served us, when at liberty.
+
+FAUST
+
+The monster to confront, at first,
+The spell of Four must be rehears'd;
+
+ Salamander shall kindle,
+ Writhe nymph of the wave,
+ In air sylph shall dwindle,
+ And Kobold shall slave.
+
+Who doth ignore
+The primal Four,
+Nor knows aright
+Their use and might,
+O'er spirits will he
+Ne'er master be!
+
+ Vanish in the fiery glow,
+ Salamander!
+ Rushingly together flow,
+ Undine!
+ Shimmer in the meteor's gleam,
+ Sylphide!
+ Hither bring thine homely aid,
+ Incubus! Incubus!
+ Step forth! I do adjure thee thus!
+
+None of the Four
+Lurks in the beast;
+He grins at me, untroubled as before;
+I have not hurt him in the least.
+A spell of fear
+Thou now shalt hear.
+
+ Art thou, comrade fell,
+ Fugitive from Hell?
+ See then this sign,
+ Before which incline
+ The murky troops of Hell!
+With bristling hair now doth the creature swell.
+
+ Canst thou, reprobate,
+ Read the uncreate,
+ Unspeakable, diffused
+ Throughout the heavenly sphere,
+ Shamefully abused,
+ Transpierced with nail and spear!
+
+Behind the stove, tam'd by my spells,
+Like an elephant he swells;
+Wholly now he fills the room,
+He into mist will melt away.
+Ascend not to the ceiling! Come,
+Thyself at the master's feet now lay!
+Thou seest that mine is no idle threat.
+With holy fire I will scorch thee yet!
+Wait not the might
+That lies in the triple-glowing light!
+Wait not the might
+Of all my arts in fullest measure!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_as the mist sinks, comes forward from
+behind the stove, in the dress of a traveling scholar_)
+
+Why all this uproar? What's the master's pleasure?
+
+FAUST
+
+This then the kernel of the brute!
+A traveling scholar? Why I needs must smile.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Your learned reverence humbly I salute!
+You've made me swelter in a pretty style.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thy name?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+         The question trifling seems from one,
+Who it appears the Word doth rate so low;
+Who, undeluded by mere outward show,
+To Being's depths would penetrate alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+With gentlemen like you indeed
+The inward essence from the name we read,
+As all too plainly it doth appear,
+When Beelzebub, Destroyer, Liar, meets the ear.
+Who then art thou?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+           Part of that power which still
+Produceth good, whilst ever scheming ill.
+
+FAUST
+
+What hidden mystery in this riddle lies?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The spirit I, which evermore denies!
+And justly; for whate'er to light is brought
+Deserves again to be reduced to naught;
+Then better 'twere that naught should be.
+Thus all the elements which ye
+Destruction, Sin, or briefly, Evil, name,
+As my peculiar element I claim.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou nam'st thyself a part, and yet a whole I see.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The modest truth I speak to thee.
+Though folly's microcosm, man, it seems,
+Himself to be a perfect whole esteems:
+Part of the part am I, which at the first was all,
+A part of darkness, which gave birth to light--
+Proud light, who now his mother would enthrall,
+Contesting space and ancient rank with night.
+Yet he succeedeth not, for struggle as he will,
+To forms material he adhereth still;
+From them he streameth, them he maketh fair,
+And still the progress of his beams they check;
+And so, I trust, when comes the final wreck,
+Light will, ere long, the doom of matter share.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thy worthy avocation now I guess!
+Wholesale annihilation won't prevail,
+So thou'rt beginning on a smaller scale.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And, to say truth, as yet with small success.
+Oppos'd to naught, this clumsy world,
+The something--it subsisteth still;
+Not yet is it to ruin hurl'd,
+Despite the efforts of my will.
+Tempests and earthquakes, fire and flood, I've tried;
+Yet land and ocean still unchang'd abide!
+And then of humankind and beasts, the accursed brood,--
+Neither o'er them can I extend my sway.
+What countless myriads have I swept away!
+Yet ever circulates the fresh young blood.
+It is enough to drive me to despair!
+As in the earth, in water, and in air,
+A thousand germs burst forth spontaneously;
+In moisture, drought, heat, cold, they still appear!
+Had I not flame selected as my sphere,
+Nothing apart had been reserved for me.
+
+FAUST
+
+So thou with thy cold devil's fist,
+Still clench'd in malice impotent,
+Dost the creative power resist,
+The active, the beneficent!
+Henceforth some other task essay,
+Of Chaos thou the wondrous son!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We will consider what you say,
+And talk about it more anon!
+For this time have I leave to go?
+
+FAUST
+
+Why thou shouldst ask, I cannot see.
+Since thee I now have learned to know,
+
+At thy good pleasure, visit me.
+Here is the window, here the door,
+The chimney, too, may serve thy need.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I must confess, my stepping o'er
+Thy threshold a slight hindrance doth impede;
+The wizard-foot doth me retain.
+
+FAUST
+
+The pentagram thy peace doth mart
+To me, thou son of hell, explain,
+How camest thou in, if this thine exit bar?
+Could such a spirit aught ensnare?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Observe it well, it is not drawn with care;
+One of the angles, that which points without,
+Is, as thou seest, not quite closed.
+
+FAUST
+
+Chance hath the matter happily dispos'd!
+So thou my captive art? No doubt!
+By accident thou thus art caught!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In sprang the dog, indeed, observing naught;
+Things now assume another shape,
+The devil's in the house and can't escape.
+
+FAUST
+
+Why through the window not withdraw?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+For ghosts and for the devil 'tis a law,
+Where they stole in, there they must forth. We're free
+The first to choose; as to the second, slaves are we.
+
+FAUST
+
+E'en hell hath its peculiar laws, I see!
+I'm glad of that! a pact may then be made,
+The which you gentlemen will surely keep?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Whate'er therein is promised thou shalt reap,
+No tittle shall remain unpaid.
+But such arrangements time require;
+We'll speak of them when next we meet;
+Most earnestly I now entreat,
+This once permission to retire.
+
+FAUST
+
+Another moment prithee here remain,
+Me with some happy word to pleasure.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now let me go! Ere long I'll come again;
+Then thou may'st question at thy leisure.
+
+FAUST
+
+'Twas not my purpose thee to lime;
+The snare hast entered of thine own free will:
+Let him who holds the devil, hold him still!
+So soon he'll catch him not a second time.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If it so please thee, I'm at thy command;
+Only on this condition, understand;
+That worthily thy leisure to beguile,
+I here may exercise my arts awhile.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou'rt free to do so! Gladly I'll attend;
+But be thine art a pleasant one!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ My friend,
+This hour enjoyment more intense
+Shall captivate each ravish'd sense,
+Than thou could'st compass in the bound
+Of the whole year's unvarying round;
+And what the dainty spirits sing,
+The lovely images they bring,
+Are no fantastic sorcery.
+Rich odors shall regale your smell,
+On choicest sweets your palate dwell,
+Your feelings thrill with ecstasy.
+No preparation do we need,
+Here we together are. Proceed.
+
+SPIRITS
+
+ Hence overshadowing gloom,
+ Vanish from sight!
+ O'er us thine azure dome,
+ Bend, beauteous light!
+ Dark clouds that o'er us spread,
+ Melt in thin air!
+ Stars, your soft radiance shed,
+ Tender and fair!
+ Girt with celestial might,
+ Winging their airy flight,
+ Spirits are thronging.
+ Follows their forms of light
+ Infinite longing!
+ Flutter their vestures bright
+ O'er field and grove!
+ Where in their leafy bower
+ Lovers the livelong hour
+ Vow deathless love.
+ Soft bloometh bud and bower!
+ Bloometh the grove!
+ Grapes from the spreading vine
+ Crown the full measure;
+ Fountains of foaming wine
+ Gush from the pressure.
+ Still where the currents wind,
+ Gems brightly gleam;
+ Leaving the hills behind
+ On rolls the stream;
+ Now into ample seas,
+
+ Spreadeth the flood--
+ Laving the sunny leas,
+ Mantled with wood.
+
+[Illustration: FAUST AND MEPHISTO Liezen-Mayer]
+
+ Rapture the feather'd throng,
+ Gaily careering,
+ Sip as they float along;
+ Sunward they're steering;
+ On toward the isles of light
+ Winging their way,
+ That on the waters bright
+ Dancingly play.
+ Hark to the choral strain,
+ Joyfully ringing!
+ While on the grassy plain
+ Dancers are springing;
+ Climbing the steep hill's side,
+ Skimming the glassy tide,
+ Wander they there;
+ Others on pinions wide
+ Wing the blue air;
+ All lifeward tending, upward still wending,
+ Toward yonder stars that gleam,
+ Far, far above;
+ Stars from whose tender beam
+ Rains blissful love.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Well done, my dainty spirits! now he slumbers!
+Ye have entranc'd him fairly with your numbers!
+This minstrelsy of yours I must repay.--
+Thou art not yet the man to hold the devil fast!--
+With fairest shapes your spells around him cast,
+And plunge him in a sea of dreams!
+But that this charm be rent, the threshold passed,
+Tooth of rat the way must clear.
+I need not conjure long it seems,
+One rustles hitherward, and soon my voice will hear.
+The master of the rats and mice,
+Of flies and frogs, of bugs and lice,
+Commands thy presence; without fear
+Come forth and gnaw the threshold here,
+Where he with oil has smear'd it.--Thou
+Com'st hopping forth already! Now
+To work! The point that holds me bound
+Is in the outer angle found.
+Another bite--so--now 'tis done--
+Now, Faustus, till we meet again, dream on.
+
+FAUST (_awaking_)
+
+Am I once more deluded! must I deem
+That thus the throng of spirits disappear?
+The devil's presence--was it but a dream?
+Hath but a poodle scap'd and left me here?
+
+
+STUDY
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+A knock? Come in! Who now would break my rest?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis I!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Come in!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Thrice be the words express'd.
+
+FAUST
+
+Then I repeat, Come in!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ 'Tis well,
+I hope that we shall soon agree!
+For now your fancies to expel,
+Here, as a youth of high degree,
+I come in gold-lac'd scarlet vest,
+And stiff-silk mantle richly dress'd,
+A cock's gay feather for a plume,
+A long and pointed rapier, too;
+And briefly I would counsel you
+To don at once the same costume,
+And, free from trammels, speed away,
+That what life is you may essay.
+
+FAUST
+
+In every garb I needs must feel oppress'd,
+My heart to earth's low cares a prey.
+Too old the trifler's part to play,
+Too young to live by no desire possess'd.
+What can the world to me afford?
+Renounce! renounce! is still the word;
+This is the everlasting song
+In every ear that ceaseless rings,
+And which, alas, our whole life long,
+Hoarsely each passing moment sings.
+But to new horror I awake each morn,
+And I could weep hot tears, to see the sun
+Dawn on another day, whose round forlorn
+Accomplishes no wish of mine--not one.
+Which still, with froward captiousness, impains
+E'en the presentiment of every joy,
+While low realities and paltry cares
+The spirit's fond imaginings destroy.
+Then must I too, when falls the veil of night,
+Stretch'd on my pallet languish in despair.
+Appalling dreams my soul affright;
+No rest vouchsafed me even there.
+The god, who throned within my breast resides,
+Deep in my soul can stir the springs;
+With sovereign sway my energies he guides,
+He cannot move external things;
+And so existence is to me a weight,
+Death fondly I desire, and life I hate.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And yet, methinks, by most 'twill be confess'd
+That Death is never quite a welcome guest.
+
+FAUST
+
+Happy the man around whose brow he binds
+The bloodstain'd wreath in conquest's dazzling hour;
+Or whom, excited by the dance, he finds
+Dissolv'd in bliss, in love's delicious bower!
+O that before the lofty spirit's might,
+Enraptured, I had rendered up my soul!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Yet did a certain man refrain one night
+Of its brown juice to drain the crystal bowl.
+
+FAUST
+
+To play the spy diverts you then?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I own,
+Though not omniscient, much to me is known.
+
+FAUST
+
+If o'er my soul the tone familiar, stealing,
+Drew me from harrowing thought's bewild'ring maze,
+Touching the ling'ring chords of childlike feeling,
+With the sweet harmonies of happier days:
+So curse I all, around the soul that windeth
+Its magic and alluring spell,
+And with delusive flattery bindeth
+Its victim to this dreary cell!
+Curs'd before all things be the high opinion
+Wherewith the spirit girds itself around!
+Of shows delusive curs'd be the dominion,
+Within whose mocking sphere our sense is bound!
+Accurs'd of dreams the treacherous wiles,
+The cheat of glory, deathless fame!
+Accurs'd what each as property beguiles,
+Wife, child, slave, plough, whate'er its name!
+Accurs'd be mammon, when with treasure
+He doth to daring deeds incite:
+Or when to steep the soul in pleasure,
+He spreads the couch of soft delight!
+Curs'd be the grape's balsamic juice!
+Accurs'd love's dream, of joys the first!
+Accurs'd be hope! accurs'd be faith!
+And more than all, be patience curs'd!
+
+CHORUS OF SPIRITS (_invisible_)
+
+ Woe! woe!
+ Thou hast destroy'd
+ The beautiful world
+ With violent blow;
+ 'Tis shiver'd! 'tis shatter'd!
+ The fragments abroad by a demigod scatter'd!
+ Now we sweep
+ The wrecks into nothingness!
+ Fondly we weep
+ The beauty that's gone!
+ Thou, 'mongst the sons of earth,
+ Lofty and mighty one,
+ Build it once more!
+ In thine own bosom the lost world restore!
+ Now with unclouded sense
+ Enter a new career;
+ Songs shall salute thine ear,
+ Ne'er heard before!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+My little ones these spirits be.
+Hark! with shrewd intelligence,
+How they recommend to thee
+Action, and the joys of sense!
+In the busy world to dwell,
+Fain they would allure thee hence
+For within this lonely cell,
+Stagnate sap of life and sense.
+Forbear to trifle longer with thy grief,
+Which, vulture-like, consumes thee in this den.
+The worst society is some relief,
+Making thee feel thyself a man with men.
+Nathless, it is not meant, I trow,
+To thrust thee 'mid the vulgar throng.
+I to the upper ranks do not belong;
+Yet if, by me companion'd, thou
+Thy steps through life forthwith wilt take,
+Upon the spot myself I'll make
+Thy comrade;--Should it suit thy need,
+I am thy servant, am thy slave indeed!
+
+FAUST
+
+And how must I thy services repay?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Thereto thou lengthen'd respite hast!
+
+FAUST
+ No! no!
+The devil is an egoist I know
+And, for Heaven's sake, 'tis not his way
+Kindness to any one to show.
+Let the condition plainly be exprest!
+Such a domestic is a dangerous guest.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'll pledge myself to be thy servant _here_,
+Still at thy back alert and prompt to be;
+But when together _yonder_ we appear,
+Then shalt thou do the same for me.
+
+FAUST
+
+But small concern I feel for yonder world;
+Hast thou this system into ruin hurl'd,
+Another may arise the void to fill.
+This earth the fountain whence my pleasures flow,
+This sun doth daily shine upon my woe,
+And if this world I must forego,
+Let happen then,--what can and will.
+I to this theme will close mine ears,
+If men hereafter hate and love,
+And if there be in yonder spheres
+A depth below or height above.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In this mood thou mayst venture it. But make
+The compact! I at once will undertake
+To charm thee with mine arts. I'll give thee more
+Than mortal eve hath e'er beheld before.
+
+FAUST
+
+What, sorry Devil, hast thou to bestow?
+Was ever mortal spirit, in its high endeavor,
+Fathom'd by Being such as thou?
+Yet food thou least which satisfieth never;
+Hast ruddy gold, that still doth flow
+Like restless quicksilver away;
+A game thou hast, at which none win who play--
+A girl who would, with amorous eyen,
+E'en from my breast a neighbor snare,
+Lofty ambition's joy divine,
+That, meteor-like, dissolves in air.
+Show me the fruit that, ere 'tis pluck'd, doth rot,
+And trees, whose verdure daily buds anew!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Such a commission scares me not;
+I can provide such treasures, it is true.
+But, my good friend, a season will come round
+When on what's good we may regale in peace.
+
+FAUST
+
+If e'er upon my couch, stretched at my ease, I'm found,
+Then may my life that instant cease!
+Me canst thou cheat with glozing wile
+Till self-reproach away I cast,--
+Me with joy's lure canst thou beguile;--
+Let that day be for me the last!
+Be this our wager!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Settled!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Sure and fast!
+When to the moment I shall say,
+"Linger awhile! so fair thou art!"
+Then mayst thou fetter me straightway,
+Then to the abyss will I depart!
+Then may the solemn death-bell sound,
+Then from thy service thou art free,
+The index then may cease its round,
+And time be never more for me!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I shall remember: pause, ere 'tis too late.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thereto a perfect right hast thou.
+My strength I do not rashly overrate.
+Slave am I here, at any rate,
+If thine, or whose, it matters not, I trow.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+At thine inaugural feast I will this day
+Attend, my duties to commence.--But one thing!--
+Accidents may happen, hence
+A line or two in writing grant, I pray.
+
+FAUST
+
+A writing, Pedant! dost demand from me?
+Man, and man's plighted word, are these unknown to thee?
+Is't not enough, that by the word I gave,
+My doom for evermore is cast?
+Doth not the world in all its currents rave,
+And must a promise hold me fast?
+Yet fixed is this delusion in our heart;
+Who, of his own free will, therefrom would part?
+How blest within whose breast truth reigneth pure!
+No sacrifice will he repent when made!
+A formal deed, with seal and signature,
+A spectre this from which all shrink afraid.
+The word its life resigneth in the pen,
+Leather and wax usurp the mastery then.
+Spirits of evil! what dost thou require?
+Brass, marble, parchment, paper, dost desire?
+Shall I with chisel, pen, or graver write?
+Thy choice is free; to me 'tis all the same.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Wherefore thy passion so excite,
+And thus thine eloquence inflame?
+A scrap is for our compact good.
+Thou under-signest merely with a drop of blood.
+
+FAUST
+
+If this will satisfy thy mind,
+Thy whim I'll gratify, howe'er absurd.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Blood is a juice of very special kind.
+
+FAUST
+
+Be not afraid that I shall break my word!
+The scope of all my energy
+Is in exact accordance with my vow.
+Vainly I have aspired too high;
+I'm on a level but with such as thou;
+Me the great spirit scorn'd, defied;
+Nature from me herself doth hide;
+Rent is the web of thought; my mind
+Doth knowledge loathe of every kind.
+In depths of sensual pleasure drown'd,
+Let us our fiery passions still!
+Enwrapp'd in magic's veil profound,
+Let wondrous charms our senses thrill!
+Plunge we in time's tempestuous flow,
+Stem we the rolling surge of chance!
+There may alternate weal and woe,
+Success and failure, as they can,
+Mingle and shift in changeful dance!
+Excitement is the sphere for man.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Nor goal, nor measure is prescrib'd to you,
+If you desire to taste of every thing,
+To snatch at joy while on the wing,
+May your career amuse and profit too!
+Only fall to and don't be over coy!
+
+FAUST
+
+Hearken! The end I aim at is not joy;
+I crave excitement, agonizing bliss,
+Enamor'd hatred, quickening vexation.
+Purg'd from the love of knowledge, my vocation,
+The scope of all my powers henceforth be this,
+To bare my breast to every pang,--to know
+In my heart's core all human weal and woe,
+To grasp in thought the lofty and the deep,
+Men's various fortunes on my breast to heap,
+And thus to theirs dilate my individual mind,
+And share at length with them the shipwreck of mankind.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh, credit me, who still as ages roll,
+Have chew'd this bitter fare from year to year,
+No mortal, from the cradle to the bier,
+Digests the ancient leaven! Know, this Whole
+Doth for the Deity alone subsist!
+He in eternal brightness doth exist;
+Us unto darkness he hath brought, and here,
+Where day and night alternate, is your sphere.
+
+FAUST
+
+But 'tis my will!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Well spoken, I admit!
+But one thing puzzles me, my friend;
+Time's short, art long; methinks 'twere fit
+That you to friendly counsel should attend.
+A poet choose as your ally!
+Let him thought's wide dominion sweep,
+Each good and noble quality
+Upon your honored brow to heap;
+The lion's magnanimity,
+The fleetness of the hind,
+The fiery blood of Italy,
+The Northern's stedfast mind.
+Let him to you the mystery show
+To blend high aims and cunning low;
+And while youth's passions are aflame
+To fall in love by rule and plan!
+I fain would meet with such a man;
+Would him Sir Microcosmus name.
+
+FAUST
+
+What then am I, if I aspire in vain
+The crown of our humanity to gain,
+Toward which my every sense doth strain?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Thou'rt after all--just what thou art.
+Put on thy head a wig with countless locks,
+And to a cubit's height upraise thy socks,
+Still thou remainest ever, what thou art.
+
+FAUST
+
+I feel it, I have heap'd upon my brain
+The gather'd treasure of man's thought in vain;
+And when at length from studious toil I rest,
+No power, new-born, springs up within my breast;
+A hair's breadth is not added to my height;
+I am no nearer to the infinite.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Good sir, these things you view indeed,
+Just as by other men they're view'd;
+We must more cleverly proceed,
+Before life's joys our grasp elude.
+The devil! thou hast hands and feet,
+And head and heart are also thine;
+What I enjoy with relish sweet--
+Is it on that account less mine?
+If for six stallions I can pay,
+Do I not own their strength and speed?
+A proper man I dash away,
+As their two dozen legs were mine indeed.
+Up then, from idle pondering free,
+And forth into the world with me!
+I tell you what;--your speculative churl
+Is like a beast which some ill spirit leads,
+On barren wilderness, in ceaseless whirl,
+While all around lie fair and verdant meads.
+
+FAUST
+
+But how shall we begin?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+ We will go hence with speed,
+A place of torment this indeed!
+A precious life, thyself to bore,
+And some few youngsters evermore!
+Leave that to neighbor Paunch! Withdraw?
+Why wilt thou plague thyself with thrashing straw?
+The very best that thou dost know
+Thou dar'st not to the striplings show.
+One in the passage now doth wait!
+
+FAUST
+
+I'm in no mood to see him now.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Poor lad! He must be tired, I trow;
+He must not go disconsolate.
+Hand me thy cap and gown; the mask
+Is for my purpose quite first rate.
+
+[_He changes his dress._]
+
+Now leave it to my wit! I ask
+But quarter of an hour; meanwhile equip,
+And make all ready for our pleasant trip!
+
+[_Exit_ FAUST.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_in_ FAUST'S _long gown_)
+
+Mortal! the loftiest attributes of men,
+Reason and Knowledge, only thus contemn;
+Still let the Prince of lies, without control,
+With shows, and mocking charms delude thy soul,
+I have thee unconditionally then!--
+Fate hath endow'd him with an ardent mind,
+Which unrestrain'd still presses on forever,
+And whose precipitate endeavor
+Earth's joys o'erleaping, leaveth them behind.
+Him will I drag through life's wild waste,
+Through scenes of vapid dulness, where at last
+Bewilder'd, he shall falter, and stick fast;
+And, still to mock his greedy haste,
+Viands and drink shall float his craving lips beyond--
+Vainly he'll seek refreshment, anguish-tost,
+And were he not the devil's by his bond,
+Yet must his soul infallibly be lost!
+
+A STUDENT _enters_.
+
+STUDENT
+
+But recently I've quitted home,
+Full of devotion am I come
+A man to know and hear, whose name
+With reverence is known to fame.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Your courtesy much flatters me!
+A man like other men you see;
+Pray have you yet applied elsewhere?
+
+STUDENT
+
+I would entreat your friendly care!
+I've youthful blood and courage high;
+Of gold I bring a fair supply;
+To let me go my mother was not fain;
+But here I longed true knowledge to attain.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You've hit upon the very place.
+
+STUDENT
+
+And yet my steps I would retrace.
+These walls, this melancholy room,
+O'erpower me with a sense of gloom;
+The space is narrow, nothing green,
+No friendly tree is to be seen
+And in these halls, with benches filled, distraught,
+Sight, hearing fail me, and the power of thought.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+It all depends on habit. Thus at first
+The infant takes not kindly to the breast,
+But before long, its eager thirst
+Is fain to slake with hearty zest:
+Thus at the breasts of wisdom day by day
+With keener relish you'll your thirst allay.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Upon her neck I fain would hang with joy;
+To reach it, say, what means must I employ?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Explain, ere further time we lose,
+What special faculty you choose?
+
+STUDENT
+
+Profoundly learned I would grow,
+What heaven contains would comprehend,
+O'er earth's wide realm my gaze extend,
+Nature and science I desire to know.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You are upon the proper track, I find;
+Take heed, let nothing dissipate your mind.
+
+STUDENT
+
+My heart and soul are in the chase!
+Though, to be sure, I fain would seize,
+On pleasant summer holidays,
+A little liberty and careless ease.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Use well your time, so rapidly it flies;
+Method will teach you time to win;
+Hence, my young friend, I would advise,
+With college logic to begin!
+Then will your mind be so well braced,
+In Spanish boots so tightly laced,
+That on 'twill circumspectly creep,
+Thought's beaten track securely keep,
+Nor will it, ignis-fatuus like,
+Into the path of error strike.
+Then many a day they'll teach you how
+The mind's spontaneous acts, till now
+As eating and as drinking free,
+Require a process;--one! two! three!
+In truth the subtle web of thought
+Is like the weaver's fabric wrought:
+One treadle moves a thousand lines,
+Swift dart the shuttles to and fro,
+Unseen the threads together flow,
+A thousand knots one stroke combines.
+Then forward steps your sage to show,
+And prove to you, it must be so;
+The first being so, and so the second,
+The third and fourth deduc'd we see;
+And if there were no first and second,
+Nor third nor fourth would ever be.
+This, scholars of all countries prize,--
+Yet 'mong themselves no weavers rise.
+He who would know and treat of aught alive,
+Seeks first the living spirit thence to drive:
+Then are the lifeless fragments in his hand,
+There only fails, alas! the spirit-band.
+This process, chemists name, in learned thesis,
+Mocking themselves, _Naturæ encheiresis_.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Your words I cannot fully comprehend.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In a short time you will improve, my friend,
+When of scholastic forms you learn the use;
+And how by method all things to reduce.
+
+STUDENT
+
+So doth all this my brain confound,
+As if a mill-wheel there were turning round.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And next, before aught else you learn,
+You must with zeal to metaphysics turn!
+There see that you profoundly comprehend
+What doth the limit of man's brain transcend;
+For that which is or is not in the head
+A sounding phrase will serve you in good stead.
+But before all strive this half year
+From one fix'd order ne'er to swerve!
+Five lectures daily you must hear;
+The hour still punctually observe!
+Yourself with studious zeal prepare,
+And closely in your manual look,
+Hereby may you be quite aware
+That all he utters standeth in the book;
+Yet write away without cessation,
+As at the Holy Ghost's dictation!
+
+STUDENT
+
+This, Sir, a second time you need not say!
+Your counsel I appreciate quite;
+What we possess in black and white
+We can in peace and comfort bear away.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A faculty I pray you name.
+
+STUDENT
+
+For jurisprudence some distaste I own.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+To me this branch of science is well known,
+And hence I cannot your repugnance blame.
+Customs and laws in every place,
+Like a disease, and heir-loom dread,
+Still trail their curse from race to race,
+And furtively abroad they spread.
+To nonsense, reason's self they turn;
+Beneficence becomes a pest;
+Woe unto thee, that thou'rt a grandson born!
+As for the law born with us, unexpressed;--
+That law, alas, none careth to discern.
+
+STUDENT
+
+You deepen my dislike. The youth
+Whom you instruct, is blest in sooth!
+To try theology I feel inclined.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I would not lead you willingly astray,
+But as regards this science, you will find
+So hard it is to shun the erring way,
+And so much hidden poison lies therein
+Which scarce can you discern from medicine.
+Here too it is the best, to listen but to one,
+And by the master's words to swear alone.
+To sum up all--To words hold fast!
+Then the safe gate securely pass'd,
+You'll reach the fane of certainty at last.
+
+STUDENT
+
+But then some meaning must the words convey.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Right! But o'er-anxious thought you'll find of no avail;
+For there precisely where ideas fail,
+A word comes opportunely into play;
+Most admirable weapons words are found,
+On words a system we securely ground,
+In words we can conveniently believe,
+Nor of a single jot can we a word bereave.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Your pardon for my importunity;
+Yet once more must I trouble you:
+On medicine, I'll thank you to supply
+A pregnant utterance or two!
+Three years! how brief the appointed tide!
+The field, heaven knows, is all too wide!
+If but a friendly hint be thrown,
+'Tis easier than to feel one's way.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+I'm weary of the dry pedantic tone,
+And must again the genuine devil play.
+
+(_Aloud_)
+
+Of medicine the spirit's caught with ease,
+The great and little world you study through,
+That things may then their course pursue,
+As heaven may please.
+In vain abroad you range through science's ample space,
+Each man learns only that which learn he can;
+Who knows the moment to embrace,
+He is your proper man.
+In person you are tolerably made,
+Nor in assurance will you be deficient:
+Self-confidence acquire, be not afraid,
+Others will then esteem you a proficient.
+Learn chiefly with the sex to deal!
+Their thousand ahs and ohs,
+These the sage doctor knows,
+He only from one point can heal.
+Assume a decent tone of courteous ease,
+You have them then to humor as you please.
+First a diploma must belief infuse,
+That you in your profession take the lead:
+You then at once those easy freedoms use
+For which another many a year must plead;
+Learn how to feel with nice address
+The dainty wrist;--and how to press,
+With ardent, furtive glance, the slender waist,
+To feel how tightly it is laced.
+
+STUDENT
+
+There is some sense in that! one sees the how and why.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gray is, young friend, all theory:
+And green of life the golden tree.
+
+STUDENT
+
+I swear it seemeth like a dream to me.
+May I some future time repeat my visit,
+To hear on what your wisdom grounds your views?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Command my humble service when you choose.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Ere I retire, one boon I must solicit:
+Here is my album; do not, Sir, deny
+This token of your favor!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Willingly!
+
+[_He writes and returns the book._]
+
+STUDENT (_reads_)
+
+ ERITIS SICUT DEUS, SCIENTES BONUM ET MALUM
+
+[_He reverently closes the book and retires._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Let but this ancient proverb be your rule,
+My cousin follow still, the wily snake,
+And with your likeness to the gods, poor fool,
+Ere long be sure your poor sick heart will quake!
+
+FAUST (_enters_)
+
+Whither away?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ 'Tis thine our course to steer.
+The little world, and then the great we'll view.
+With what delight, what profit too,
+Thou'lt revel through thy gay career!
+
+FAUST
+
+Despite my length of beard I need
+The easy manners that insure success;
+Th' attempt I fear can ne'er succeed;
+To mingle in the world I want address;
+I still have an embarrass'd air, and then
+I feel myself so small with other men.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Time, my good friend, will all that's needful give;
+Be only self-possessed, and thou hast learn'd to live.
+
+FAUST
+
+But how are we to start, I pray?
+Steeds, servants, carriage, where are they?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We've but to spread this mantle wide,
+'Twill serve whereon through air to ride;
+No heavy baggage need you take,
+When we our bold excursion make.
+A little gas, which I will soon prepare,
+Lifts us from earth; aloft through air,
+Light-laden, we shall swiftly steer;--
+I wish you joy of your new life-career.
+
+
+AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG
+
+_A Drinking Party_
+
+FROSCH
+
+No drinking? Naught a laugh to raise?
+None of your gloomy looks, I pray!
+You, who so bright were wont to blaze,
+Are dull as wetted straw today.
+
+BRANDER
+
+'Tis all your fault; your part you do not bear,
+No beastliness, no folly.
+
+FROSCH (_pours a glass of wine over his head_)
+
+ There,
+You have them both!
+
+BRANDER
+
+ You double beast!
+
+FROSCH
+
+'Tis what you ask'd me for, at least!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Whoever quarrels, turn him out!
+With open throat drink, roar, and shout.
+Hollo! Hollo! Ho!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Zounds, fellow, cease your deaf'ning cheers!
+Bring cotton-wool! He splits my ears.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+'Tis when the roof rings back the tone,
+Then first the full power of the bass is known.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Right! out with him who takes offence!
+A! tara lara da!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+A! tara lara da!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Our throats are tuned. Come, let's commence!
+
+(_Sings_)
+
+ The holy Roman empire now,
+ How holds it still together?
+
+BRANDER
+
+An ugly song! a song political!
+A song offensive! Thank God, every morn,
+To rule the Roman empire that you were not born!
+I bless my stars at least that mine is not
+Either a kaiser's or a chancellor's lot.
+Yet, 'among ourselves, should one still lord it o'er the rest;
+That we elect a pope I now suggest.
+Ye know what quality insures
+A man's success, his rise secures.
+
+FROSCH (_sings_)
+
+ Bear, lady nightingale above,
+ Ten thousand greetings to my love.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+No greetings to a sweetheart! No love-songs shall there be!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Love-greetings and love-kisses! Thou shalt not hinder me!
+
+(_Sings_)
+
+ Undo the bolt! in stilly night,
+ Undo the bolt! the lover wakes.
+ Shut to the bolt! when morning breaks.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Ay, sing, sing on, praise her with all thy might!
+My turn to laugh will come some day.
+Me hath she jilted once, you the same trick she'll play.
+Some gnome her lover be! where cross-roads meet,
+With her to play the fool; or old he-goat,
+From Blocksberg coming in swift gallop, bleat
+A good night to her from his hairy throat!
+A proper lad of genuine flesh and blood,
+Is for the damsel far too good;
+The greeting she shall have from me,
+To smash her window-panes will be!
+
+BRANDER (_striking on the table_)
+
+Silence! Attend! to me give ear!
+Confess, sirs, I know how to live:
+Some love-sick folk are sitting here!
+Hence, 'tis but fit, their hearts to cheer,
+That I a good-night strain to them should give.
+Hark! of the newest fashion is my song!
+Strike boldly in the chorus, clear and strong!
+
+(_He sings_)
+
+ Once in a cellar lived a rat,
+ He feasted there on butter,
+ Until his paunch became as fat
+ As that of Doctor Luther.
+ The cook laid poison for the guest,
+ Then was his heart with pangs oppress'd,
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+CHORUS (_shouting_)
+
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+BRANDER
+
+ He ran around, he ran abroad,
+ Of every puddle drinking.
+ The house with rage he scratch'd and gnaw'd,
+ In vain,--he fast was sinking;
+ Full many an anguish'd bound he gave,
+ Nothing the hapless brute could save,
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+BRANDER
+
+ By torture driven, in open day,
+ The kitchen he invaded,
+ Convulsed upon the hearth he lay,
+ With anguish sorely jaded;
+ The poisoner laugh'd; Ha! ha! quoth she,
+ His life is ebbing fast, I see,
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+How the dull boors exulting shout!
+Poison for the poor rats to strew
+A fine exploit it is no doubt.
+
+BRANDER
+
+They, as it seems, stand well with you!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Old bald-pate! with the paunch profound!
+The rat's mishap hath tamed his nature;
+For he his counterpart hath found
+Depicted in the swollen creature.
+
+FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I now must introduce to you
+Before aught else, this jovial crew,
+To show how lightly life may glide away;
+With the folk here each day's a holiday.
+With little wit and much content,
+Each on his own small round intent,
+Like sportive kitten with its tail;
+While no sick-headache they bewail,
+And while their host will credit give,
+Joyous and free from care they live.
+
+BRANDER
+
+They're off a journey, that is clear,--
+From their strange manners; they have scarce been here
+An hour.
+
+FROSCH
+
+ You're right! Leipzig's the place for me!
+'Tis quite a little Paris; people there
+Acquire a certain easy, finish'd air.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What take you now these travelers to be?
+
+FROSCH
+
+Let me alone! O'er a full glass you'll see,
+As easily I'll worm their secret out
+As draw an infant's tooth. I've not a doubt
+That my two gentlemen are nobly born;
+They look dissatisfied and full of scorn.
+
+BRANDER
+
+They are but mountebanks, I'll lay a bet!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Most like.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Mark me, I'll screw it from them yet!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+These fellows would not scent the devil out,
+E'en though he had them by the very throat!
+
+FAUST
+
+Good-morrow, gentlemen!
+
+STEBEL
+
+ Thanks for your fair salute.
+
+[_Aside, glancing at_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]
+
+How! goes the fellow on a halting foot?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Is it permitted here with you to sit?
+Then, though good wine is not forthcoming here,
+Good company at least our hearts will cheer.
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+A dainty gentleman, no doubt of it!
+
+FROSCH
+
+You're doubtless recently from Rippach? Pray,
+Did you with Master Hans there chance to sup?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Today we pass'd him, but we did not stop!
+When last we met him he had much to say
+Touching his cousins, and to each he sent
+Full many a greeting and kind compliment.
+
+[_With an inclination toward_ FROSCH.]
+
+
+ALTMAYER (_aside to_ Frosch)
+
+You have it there!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+ Faith! he's a knowing one!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Have patience! I will show him up anon!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We heard erewhile, unless I'm wrong,
+Voices well trained in chorus pealing?
+Certes, most choicely here must song
+Re-echo from this vaulted ceiling!
+
+FROSCH
+
+That you're an amateur one plainly sees!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh no, though strong the love, I cannot boast much skill.
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Give us a song!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ As many as you will.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+But be it a brand new one, if you please!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+But recently returned from Spain are we,
+The pleasant land of wine and minstrelsy.
+
+(_Sings_)
+
+  A king there was once reigning,
+  Who had a goodly flea--
+
+FROSCH
+
+Hark! did you rightly catch the words? a flea!
+An odd sort of a guest he needs must be.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_sings_)
+
+ A king there was once reigning,
+ Who had a goodly flea,
+ Him loved he without feigning,
+ As his own son were he!
+ His tailor then he summon'd--
+ The tailor to him goes:
+ Now measure me the youngster
+ For jerkin and for hose!
+
+BRANDER
+
+Take proper heed, the tailor strictly charge,
+The nicest measurement to take,
+And as he loves his head, to make
+The hose quite smooth and not too large!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In satin and in velvet,
+Behold the younker dressed:
+Bedizen'd o'er with ribbons,
+A cross upon his breast.
+Prime minister they made him;
+He wore a star of state;
+And all his poor relations
+Were courtiers, rich and great.
+
+The gentlemen and ladies
+At court were sore distressed;
+The queen and all her maidens
+Were bitten by the pest,
+And yet they dared not scratch them
+Or chase the fleas away.
+If we are bit, we catch them,
+And crack without delay.
+
+CHORUS _(shouting)_
+
+If we are bit, etc.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Bravo! That's the song for me!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Such be the fate of every flea!
+
+BRANDER
+
+With clever finger catch and kill!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Hurrah for wine and freedom still!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Were but your wine a trifle better, friend,
+A glass to freedom I would gladly drain.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+You'd better not repeat those words again!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I am afraid the landlord to offend;
+Else freely would I treat each worthy guest
+From our own cellar to the very best.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Out with it then! Your doings I'll defend.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Give a good glass, and straight we'll praise you, one and all.
+Only let not your samples be too small;
+For if my judgment you desire,
+Certes, an ample mouthful I require.
+
+ALTMAYER _(aside)_
+
+I guess, they're from the Rhenish land.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Fetch me a gimlet here!
+
+BRANDER
+
+Say, what therewith to bore?
+You cannot have the wine-casks at the door?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Our landlord's tool-basket behind doth yonder stand.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES _(takes the gimlet_)
+_(To_ FROSCH)
+
+Now only say! what liquor will you take?
+
+FROSCH
+
+How mean you that? Have you of every sort?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Each may his own selection make.
+
+ALTMAYER (_to_ FROSCH)
+
+Ha! Ha! You lick your lips already at the thought.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Good, if I have my choice, the Rhenish I propose;
+For still the fairest gifts the fatherland bestows.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_boring a hole in the edge of the table_
+_opposite to where_ FROSCH _is sitting_)
+
+Get me a little wax--and make some stoppers--quick!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Why, this is nothing but a juggler's trick!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ BRANDER)
+
+And you?
+
+BRANDER
+
+ Champagne's the wine for me;
+Right brisk, and sparkling let it be!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _bores, one of the party has in the
+meantime prepared the, wax-stoppers and stopped
+the holes_.]
+
+BRANDER
+
+What foreign is one always can't decline,
+What's good is often scatter'd far apart.
+The French your genuine German hates with all his heart,
+Yet has a relish for their wine.
+
+SIEBEL (_as_ MEPHISTOPHELES _approaches him_)
+
+I like not acid wine, I must allow,
+Give me a glass of genuine sweet!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_bores_)
+
+ Tokay
+Shall, if you wish it, flow without delay.
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Come! look me in the face! no fooling now!
+You are but making fun of us, I trow.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ah! ah! that would indeed be making free
+With such distinguished guests. Come, no delay;
+What liquor can I serve you with, I pray?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Only be quick, it matters not to me.
+
+_[After the holes are all bored and, stopped.]_
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_with strange gestures_)
+
+Grapes the vine-stock bears,
+Horns the buck-goat wears!
+Wine is sap, the vine is wood,
+The wooden board yields wine as good.
+With a deeper glance and true
+The mysteries of nature view!
+Have faith and here's a miracle!
+Your stoppers draw and drink your fill!
+
+ALL (_as they draw the stoppers and the wine chosen by
+each runs into his glass_)
+
+Oh beauteous spring, which flows so far!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Spill not a single drop, of this beware!
+
+[_They drink repeatedly_.]
+
+ALL _(sing)_
+
+Happy as cannibals are we,
+Or as five hundred swine.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+They're in their glory, mark their elevation!
+
+FAUST
+
+Let's hence, nor here our stay prolong.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Attend, of brutishness ere long
+You'll see a glorious revelation.
+
+SIEBEL _(drinks carelessly; the wine is spilt upon the ground,
+and turns to fame)_
+
+Help! fire! help! Hell is burning!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_addressing the flames_)
+
+Stop,
+Kind element, be still, I say!
+(_To the Company_)
+Of purgatorial fire as yet 'tis but a drop.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What means the knave! For this you'll dearly pay!
+Us, it appears, you do not know.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Such tricks a second time he'd better show!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Methinks 'twere well we pack'd him quietly away.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What, sir! with us your hocus-pocus play!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Silence, old wine-cask!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+How! add insult, too!
+Vile broomstick!
+
+BRANDER
+
+Hold! or blows shall rain on you!
+
+ALTMAYER (_draws a stopper out of the table; fire springs
+out against him_)
+I burn! I burn!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+'Tis sorcery, I vow!
+Strike home! The fellow is fair game, I trow!
+[_They draw their knives and attack_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_with solemn gestures_)
+
+Visionary scenes appear!
+Words delusive cheat the ear!
+Be ye there, and be ye here!
+[_They stand amazed and gale at one another._]
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Where am I? What a beauteous land!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Vineyards! unless my sight deceives?
+
+SIEBEL
+
+And clust'ring grapes too, close at hand!
+
+BRANDER
+
+And underneath the spreading leaves,
+What stems there be! What grapes I see!
+
+[_He seizes_ SIEBEL _by the nose. The others reciprocally
+do the same, and raise, their knives._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_as above_)
+
+Delusion, from their eyes the bandage take!
+Note how the devil loves a jest to break!
+
+[_He disappears with_ FAUST; _the fellows draw back
+from one another._]
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What was it?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+How?
+
+FROSCH
+
+Was that your nose?
+
+BRANDER (_to_ SIEBEL)
+
+And look, my hand doth thine inclose!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+I felt a shock, it went through every limb!
+A chair! I'm fainting! All things swim!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Say! What has happened? What's it all about?
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Where is the fellow? Could I scent him out,
+His body from his soul I'd soon divide!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+With my own eyes, upon a cask astride,
+Forth through the cellar-door I saw him ride--
+Heavy as lead my feet are growing.
+
+[_Turning to the table._]
+
+I wonder is the wine still flowing!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+'Twas all delusion, cheat and lie.
+
+FROSCH
+
+'Twas wine I drank, most certainly.
+
+BRANDER
+
+But with the grapes how was it, pray?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+That none may miracles believe, who now will say?
+
+WITCHES' KITCHEN
+
+_A large caldron hangs over the fire on a low hearth; various figures
+appear in the vapor rising from it. A_ FEMALE MONKEY _sits beside
+the  caldron to skim it, and watch that it does not boil over. The_
+MALE MONKEY _with the young ones is seated near, warming himself.
+The walls and ceiling are adorned with the strangest articles of
+witch-furniture.
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+This senseless, juggling witchcraft I detest!
+Dost promise that in this foul nest
+Of madness I shall be restored?
+Must I seek counsel from an ancient dame?
+And can she, by these rites abhorred,
+Take thirty winters from my frame?
+Woe's me, if thou naught better canst suggest!
+Hope has already fled my breast.
+Has neither nature nor a noble mind
+A balsam yet devis'd of any kind?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+My friend, you now speak sensibly. In truth,
+Nature a method giveth to renew thy youth:
+But in another book the lesson's writ;--
+It forms a curious chapter, I admit.
+
+FAUST
+
+I fain would know it.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Good! A remedy
+Without physician, gold, or sorcery:
+Away forthwith, and to the fields repair;
+Begin to delve, to cultivate the ground;
+Thy senses and thyself confine
+Within the very narrowest round;
+Support thyself upon the simplest fare;
+Live like a very brute the brutes among;
+Neither esteem it robbery
+The acre thou dost reap, thyself to dung.
+This the best method, credit me,
+Again at eighty to grow hale and young.
+
+FAUST
+
+I am not used to it, nor can myself degrade
+So far, as in my hand to take the spade.
+This narrow life would suit me not at all.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Then we the witch must summon after all.
+
+FAUST
+
+Will none but this old beldame do?
+Canst not thyself the potion brew?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A pretty play our leisure to beguile!
+A thousand bridges I could build meanwhile.
+Not science only and consummate art--
+Patience must also bear her part.
+A quiet spirit worketh whole years long;
+Time only makes the subtle ferment strong.
+And all things that belong thereto,
+Are wondrous and exceeding rare!
+The devil taught her, it is true;
+But yet the draught the devil can't prepare.
+
+[_Perceiving the beasts_.]
+
+Look yonder, what a dainty pair!
+Here is the maid! the knave is there!
+
+(_To the beasts_)
+
+It seems your dame is not at home?
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+Gone to carouse,
+Out of the house,
+Thro' the chimney and away!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+How long is it her wont to roam?
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+While we can warm our paws she'll stay.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+What think you of the charming creatures?
+
+FAUST
+
+I loathe alike their form and features!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Nay, such discourse, be it confessed,
+Is just the thing that pleases me the best.
+(_To the_ MONKEYS)
+Tell me, ye whelps, accursed crew!
+What stir ye in the broth about?
+
+MONKEYS
+
+Coarse beggar's gruel here we stew.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of customers you'll have a rout.
+
+THE HE-MONKEY (_approaching and fawning on_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+Quick! quick! throw the dice,
+Make me rich in a trice,
+Oh give me the prize!
+Alas, for myself,
+Had I plenty of pelf,
+I then should be wise.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+How blest the ape would think himself, if he
+Could only put into the lottery!
+
+[_In the meantime the young_ MONKEYS _have been playing
+with a large globe, which they roll forward._]
+
+THE HE-MONKEY
+
+The world behold;
+Unceasingly roll'd,
+It riseth and falleth ever;
+It ringeth like glass!
+How brittle, alas!
+'Tis hollow, and resteth never.
+How bright the sphere,
+Still brighter here!
+Now living am I!
+Dear son, beware!
+Nor venture there!
+Thou too must die!
+It is of clay;
+'Twill crumble away;
+There fragments lie.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of what use is the sieve
+
+THE HE-MONKEY (_taking it down_)
+
+The sieve would show,
+If thou wert a thief or no?
+[_He runs to the_ SHE-MONKEY, _and makes her look through it._]
+
+Look through the sieve!
+Dost know him the thief,
+And dar'st thou not call him so?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_approaching the fire_)
+
+And then this pot?
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+The half-witted sot!
+He knows not the pot!
+He knows not the kettle!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Unmannerly beast!
+Be civil at least!
+
+THE HE-MONKEY
+
+Take the whisk and sit down in the settle!
+
+[_He makes_ MEPHISTOPHELES _sit down._]
+
+FAUST (_who all this time has been standing before a looking-glass,
+now approaching, and now retiring front it_)
+
+What do I see? What form, whose charms transcend
+The loveliness of earth, is mirror'd here!
+O Love, to waft me to her sphere,
+To me the swiftest of thy pinions lend!
+Alas! If I remain not rooted to this place,
+If to approach more near I'm fondly lur'd,
+Her image fades, in veiling mist obscur'd!--
+Model of beauty both in form and face!
+Is't possible? Hath woman charms so rare?
+In this recumbent form, supremely fair,
+The essence must I see of heavenly grace?
+Can aught so exquisite on earth be found?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The six days' labor of a god, my friend,
+Who doth himself cry bravo, at the end,
+By something clever doubtless should be crown'd.
+For this time gaze your fill, and when you please
+just such a prize for you I can provide;
+How blest is he to whom kind fate decrees,
+To take her to his home, a lovely bride!
+
+[FAUST _continues to gaze into the mirror._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+[_stretching himself on the settle and playing
+with the whisk, continues to speak._]
+
+Here sit I, like a king upon his throne;
+My sceptre this;--the crown I want alone.
+
+THE MONKEYS (_who have hitherto been making all sorts of
+strange gestures, bring_ MEPHISTOPHELES _a crown, with
+loud cries)
+
+Oh, be so good,
+With sweat and with blood
+The crown to lime!
+
+[_They handle the crown awkwardly and break it in two
+pieces, with which they skip about._]
+
+'Twas fate's decree!
+We speak and see!
+We hear and rhyme.
+
+FAUST (_before the mirror_)
+
+Woe's me! well-nigh distraught I feel!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_pointing to the beasts_)
+
+And even my own head almost begins to reel.
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+If good luck attend,
+If fitly things blend,
+Our jargon with thought
+And with reason is fraught!
+
+FAUST (_as above_)
+
+A flame is kindled in my breast!
+Let us begone! nor linger here!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_in the same position_)
+
+It now at least must be confessed,
+That poets sometimes are sincere.
+
+[_The caldron which the_ SHE-MONKEY _has neglected begins
+to boil over; a great flame arises, which streams up the
+chimney. The_ WITCH _comes down the chimney with
+horrible cries._]
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Ough! ough! ough! ough!
+Accursed brute! accursed sow!
+The caldron dost neglect, for shame!
+Accursed brute to scorch the dame!
+
+(_Perceiving_ FAUST _and_
+MEPHISTOPHELES._)
+
+Whom have we here?
+Who's sneaking here?
+Whence are ye come?
+With what desire?
+The plague of fire
+Your bones consume!
+
+[_She dips the skimming-ladle into the caldron and throws
+flames at_ FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, _and the_ MONKEYS.
+_The_ MONKEYS _whimper._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_twirling the whisk which he holds in his
+hand, and striking among the glasses and pots_)
+
+Dash! Smash!
+There lies the glass!
+There lies the slime!
+'Tis but a jest;
+I but keep time,
+Thou hellish pest,
+To thine own chime!
+[_While the_ WITCH _steps back in rage and astonishment_.]
+Dost know me! Skeleton! Vile scarecrow, thou!
+Thy lord and master dost thou know?
+What holds me, that I deal not now
+Thee and thine apes a stunning blow?
+No more respect to my red vest dost pay?
+Does my cock's feather no allegiance claim?
+Have I my visage masked today?
+Must I be forced myself to name?
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Master, forgive this rude salute!
+But I perceive no cloven foot.
+And your two ravens, where are they?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+This once I must admit your plea;--
+For truly I must own that we
+Each other have not seen for many a day.
+The culture, too, that shapes the world, at last
+Hath e'en the devil in its sphere embraced;
+The northern phantom from the scene hath pass'd;
+Tail, talons, horns, are nowhere to be traced!
+As for the foot, with which I can't dispense,
+'Twould injure me in company, and hence,
+Like many a youthful cavalier,
+False calves I now have worn for many a year.
+
+THE WITCH (_dancing_)
+
+I am beside myself with joy,
+To see once more the gallant Satan here!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Woman, no more that name employ!
+
+THE WITCH
+
+But why? what mischief hath it done?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+To fable-books it now doth appertain;
+But people from the change have nothing won.
+Rid of the evil one, the evil ones remain.
+Lord Baron call thou me, so is the matter good;
+Of other cavaliers the mien I wear.
+Dost make no question of my gentle blood;
+See here, this is the scutcheon that I bear!
+
+[_He makes an unseemly gesture._]
+
+THE WITCH (_laughing immoderately_)
+
+Ha! Ha! Just like yourself! You are, I ween,
+The same mad wag that you have ever been!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+My friend, learn this to understand, I pray!
+To deal with witches this is still the way.
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Now tell me, gentlemen, what you desire?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of your known juice a goblet we require.
+But for the very oldest let me ask;
+Double its strength with years doth grow.
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Most willingly! And here I have a flask,
+From which I've sipp'd myself ere now;
+What's more, it doth no longer stink;
+To you a glass I joyfully will give.
+
+(_Aside._)
+
+If unprepar'd, however, this man drink,
+He hath not, as you know, an hour to live.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+He's my good friend, with whom 'twill prosper well;
+I grudge him not the choicest of thy store.
+Now draw thy circle, speak thy spell,
+And straight a bumper for him pour!
+
+[_The_ WITCH, _with extraordinary gestures, describes a
+circle, and places strange things within it. The
+glasses meanwhile begin to ring, and the caldron
+to sound and make music. Lastly, she brings a
+great book; places the_ MONKEYS _in the circle to
+serve her as a desk, and to hold the torches. She
+beckons_ FAUST _to approach._]
+
+FAUST (_to_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+Tell me, to what doth all this tend?
+Where will these frantic gestures end?
+This loathsome cheat, this senseless stuff
+I've known and hated long enough.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Mere mummery, a laugh to raise!
+Pray don't be so fastidious! She
+But as a leech, her hocus-pocus plays,
+That well with you her potion may agree.
+[_He compels_ FAUST _to enter the circle._]
+
+[_The,_ WITCH, _with great emphasis, begins to declaim from
+the book._]
+
+This must thou ken:
+Of one make ten,
+Pass two, and then
+Make square the three,
+So rich thou'lt be.
+Drop out the four!
+From five and six,
+Thus says the witch,
+Make seven and eight.
+So all is straight!
+And nine is one,
+And ten is none,
+This is the witch's one-time-one!
+
+FAUST
+
+The hag doth as in fever rave.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+To these will follow many a stave.
+I know it well, so rings the book throughout;
+Much time I've lost in puzzling o'er its pages,
+For downright paradox, no doubt,
+A mystery remains alike to fools and sages.
+Ancient the art and modern too, my friend.
+'Tis still the fashion as it used to be,
+Error instead of truth abroad to send
+By means of three and one, and one and three.
+'Tis ever taught and babbled in the schools.
+Who'd take the trouble to dispute with fools?
+When words men hear, in sooth, they usually believe,
+That there must needs therein be something to conceive.
+
+THE WITCH (_continues_)
+
+ The lofty power
+ Of wisdom's dower,
+ From all the world conceal'd!
+ Who thinketh not,
+ To him I wot,
+ Unsought it is reveal'd.
+
+FAUST
+
+What nonsense doth the hag propound?
+My brain it doth well-nigh confound.
+A hundred thousand fools or more,
+Methinks I hear in chorus roar.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Incomparable Sibyl cease, I pray!
+Hand us thy liquor without more delay.
+And to the very brim the goblet crown!
+My friend he is, and need not be afraid;
+Besides, he is a man of many a grade,
+Who hath drunk deep already.
+
+[_The_ WITCH, _with many ceremonies, pours the liquor
+into a cup; as_ FAUST _lifts it to his mouth, a light
+flame arises._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gulp it down!
+No hesitation! It will prove
+A cordial, and your heart inspire!
+What! with the devil hand and glove,
+And yet shrink back afraid of fire?
+[_The_ WITCH _dissolves the circle._ FAUST _steps out._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now forth at once! thou dar'st not rest.
+
+WITCH
+
+And much, sir, may the liquor profit you!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to the_ WITCH)
+
+And if to pleasure thee I aught can do,
+Pray on Walpurgis mention thy request.
+
+WITCH
+
+Here is a song, sung o'er, sometimes you'll see,
+That 'twill a singular effect produce.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Come, quick, and let thyself be led by me;
+Thou must perspire, in order that the juice
+Thy frame may penetrate through every part.
+Then noble idleness I thee will teach to prize,
+And soon with ecstasy thou'lt recognize
+How Cupid stirs and gambols in thy heart.
+
+FAUST
+
+Let me but gaze one moment in the glass!
+Too lovely was that female form!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Nay! nay!
+A model which all women shall surpass,
+In flesh and blood ere long thou shalt survey.
+(_Aside._)
+As works the draught, thou presently shalt greet
+A Helen in each woman thou dost meet.
+
+A STREET
+
+FAUST (MARGARET _passing by_).
+
+FAUST
+
+Fair lady, may I thus make free
+To offer you my arm and company?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I am no lady, am not fair,
+Can without escort home repair.
+_[She disengages herself and exit._]
+
+FAUST
+
+By heaven! This girl is fair indeed!
+No form like hers can I recall.
+Virtue she hath, and modest heed,
+Is piquant too, and sharp withal.
+Her cheek's soft light, her rosy lips,
+No length of time will e'er eclipse!
+Her downward glance in passing by,
+Deep in my heart is stamp'd for aye;
+How curt and sharp her answer too,
+To ecstasy the feeling grew!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters._]
+
+FAUST
+
+This girl must win for me! Dost hear?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Which?
+
+FAUST
+
+She who but now passed.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What! She?
+She from confession cometh here,
+From every sin absolved and free;
+I crept near the confessor's chair.
+All innocence her virgin soul,
+For next to nothing went she there;
+O'er such as she I've no control!
+
+[Illustration: MARGARET _From the Painting by Wilhelm von Kaulbach_]
+
+FAUST
+
+She's past fourteen.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+ You really talk
+Like any gay Lothario,
+Who every floweret from its stalk
+Would pluck, and deems nor grace, nor truth,
+Secure against his arts, forsooth!
+This ne'er the less won't always do.
+
+FAUST
+
+Sir Moralizer, prithee, pause;
+Nor plague me with your tiresome laws!
+To cut the matter short, my friend,
+She must this very night be mine,--
+And if to help me you decline,
+Midnight shall see our compact end.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What may occur just bear in mind!
+A fortnight's space, at least, I need,
+A fit occasion but to find.
+
+FAUST
+
+With but seven hours I could succeed;
+Nor should I want the devil's wile,
+So young a creature to beguile.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Like any Frenchman now you speak,
+But do not fret, I pray; why seek
+To hurry to enjoyment straight?
+The pleasure is not half so great,
+As when at first, around, above,
+With all the fooleries of love,
+The puppet you can knead and mold
+As in Italian story oft is told.
+
+FAUST
+
+No such incentives, do I need.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+But now, without offence or jest!
+You cannot quickly, I protest,
+In winning this sweet child succeed.
+By storm we cannot take the fort,
+To stratagem we must resort.
+
+FAUST
+
+Conduct me to her place of rest!
+Some token of the angel bring!
+A kerchief from her snowy breast,
+A garter bring me--any thing!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+That I my anxious zeal may prove,
+Your pangs to soothe and aid your love,
+A single moment will we not delay,
+Will lead you to her room this very day.
+
+FAUST
+
+And shall I see her?--Have her?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+ No!
+She to a neighbor's house will go;
+But in her atmosphere alone
+The tedious hours meanwhile you may employ
+In blissful dreams of future joy.
+
+FAUST
+
+Can we go now?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis yet too soon.
+
+FAUST
+
+Some present for my love procure! [_Exit._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Presents so soon! 'tis well! success is sure!
+Full many a goodly place I know,
+And treasures buried long ago;
+I must a bit o'erlook them now. [_Exit._]
+
+
+EVENING. A SMALL AND NEAT ROOM
+
+MARGARET (_braiding and binding up her hair_)
+
+I would give something now to know
+Who yonder gentleman could be!
+He had a gallant air, I trow,
+And doubtless was of high degree:
+That written on his brow was seen--
+Nor else would he so bold have been.
+
+[_Exit_]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Come in! tread softly! be discreet!
+
+FAUST (_after a pause_)
+
+_Begone and leave me, I entreat!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_looking round_)
+
+Not every maiden is so neat.
+
+[_Exit_]
+
+FAUST (_gazing round_)
+
+Welcome sweet twilight, calm and blest,
+That in this hallow'd precinct reigns!
+Fond yearning love, inspire my breast,
+Feeding on hope's sweet dew thy blissful pains!
+What stillness here environs me!
+Content and order brood around.
+What fulness in this poverty!
+In this small cell what bliss profound!
+
+[_He throws himself on the leather arm-chair beside
+the bed_.]
+
+Receive me thou, who hast in thine embrace,
+Welcom'd in joy and grief the ages flown!
+How oft the children of a by-gone race
+Have cluster'd round this patriarchal throne!
+Haply she, also, whom I hold so dear,
+For Christmas gift, with grateful joy possess'd,
+Hath with the full round cheek of childhood, here,
+Her grandsire's wither'd hand devoutly press'd.
+Maiden! I feel thy spirit haunt the place,
+Breathing of order and abounding grace.
+As with a mother's voice it prompteth thee
+The pure white cover o'er the board to spread,
+To stew the crisping sand beneath thy tread.
+Dear hand! so godlike in its ministry!
+The hut becomes a paradise through thee!
+And here--
+
+[_He raises the bed curtain_.]
+
+How thrills my pulse with strange delight!
+Here could I linger hours untold;
+Thou, Nature, didst in vision bright,
+The embryo angel here unfold.
+Here lay the child, her bosom warm
+With life; while steeped in slumber's dew,
+To perfect grace, her godlike form,
+With pure and hallow'd weavings grew!
+
+And thou! ah here what seekest thou?
+How quails mine inmost being now!
+What wouldst thou here? what makes thy heart so sore?
+Unhappy Faust! I know thee now no more.
+
+Do I a magic atmosphere inhale?
+Erewhile, my passion would not brook delay!
+Now in a pure love-dream I melt away.
+Are we the sport of every passing gale?
+
+Should she return and enter now,
+How wouldst thou rue thy guilty flame!
+Proud vaunter--thou wouldst hide thy brow--
+And at her feet sink down with shame.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Quick! quick! below I see her there.
+
+FAUST
+
+Away! I will return no more!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Here is a casket, with a store
+Of jewels, which I got elsewhere.
+Just lay it in the press; make haste!
+I swear to you, 'twill turn her brain;
+Therein some trifles I have placed,
+Wherewith another to obtain.
+But child is child, and play is play.
+
+FAUST
+
+I know not--shall I?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Do you ask?
+Perchance you would retain the treasure?
+If such your wish, why then, I say,
+Henceforth absolve me from my task,
+Nor longer waste your hours of leisure.
+I trust you're not by avarice led!
+I rub my hands, I scratch my head,--
+
+[_He places the casket in the press and closes the lock._]
+
+Now quick! Away!
+That soon the sweet young creature may
+The wish and purpose of your heart obey;
+Yet stand you there
+As would you to the lecture-room repair,
+As if before you stood,
+Arrayed in flesh and blood,
+Physics and metaphysics weird and gray!--
+Away!
+                          [_Exeunt_.]
+
+MARGARET (_with a lamp_)
+
+Here 'tis so close, so sultry now,
+
+[_She opens the window._]
+
+Yet out of doors 'tis not so warm.
+I feel so strange, I know not how--
+I wish my mother would come home.
+Through me there runs a shuddering--
+I'm but a foolish timid thing!
+
+[_While undressing herself she begins to sing._]
+
+ There was a king in Thule,
+ True even to the grave;
+ To whom his dying mistress
+ A golden beaker gave.
+
+ At every feast he drained it,
+ Naught was to him so dear,
+ And often as he drained it,
+ Gush'd from his eyes the tear.
+
+ When death came, unrepining
+ His cities o'er he told;
+ All to his heir resigning,
+ Except his cup of gold.
+
+ With many a knightly vassal
+ At a royal feast sat he,
+ In yon proud hall ancestral,
+ In his castle o'er the sea.
+
+ Up stood the jovial monarch,
+ And quaff'd his last life's glow,
+ Then hurled the hallow'd goblet
+ Into the flood below.
+
+ He saw it splashing, drinking,
+ And plunging in the sea;
+ His eyes meanwhile were sinking,
+ And never again drank he.
+
+[_She opens the press to put away her clothes, and perceives
+the casket_.]
+
+How comes this lovely casket here? The press
+I locked, of that I'm confident.
+'Tis very wonderful! What's in it I can't guess;
+Perhaps 'twas brought by some one in distress,
+And left in pledge for loan my mother lent.
+Here by a ribbon hangs a little key!
+I have a mind to open it and see!
+Heavens! only look! what have we here!
+In all my days ne'er saw I such a sight!
+Jewels! which any noble dame might wear,
+For some high pageant richly dight
+This chain--how would it look on me!
+These splendid gems, whose may they be?
+
+[_She puts them on and steps before the glass._]
+
+Were but the earrings only mine!
+Thus one has quite another air.
+What boots it to be young and fair?
+It doubtless may be very fine;
+But then, alas, none cares for you,
+And praise sounds half like pity too.
+
+Gold all doth lure,
+Gold doth secure
+All things. Alas, we poor!
+
+
+PROMENADE
+
+_FAUST walking thoughtfully up and down. To him_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+By all rejected love! By hellish fire I curse,
+Would I knew aught to make my imprecation worse!
+
+FAUST
+
+What aileth thee? what chafes thee now so sore?
+A face like that I never saw before!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'd yield me to the devil instantly,
+Did it not happen that myself am he!
+
+FAUST
+
+There must be some disorder in thy wit!
+To rave thus like a madman, is it fit?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Think! only think! The gems for Gretchen brought,
+Them hath a priest now made his own!--
+A glimpse of them the mother caught,
+And 'gan with secret fear to groan.
+The woman's scent is keen enough;
+Doth ever in the prayer-book snuff;
+Smells every article to ascertain
+Whether the thing is holy or profane,
+And scented in the jewels rare,
+That there was not much blessing there.
+"My child," she cries; "ill-gotten good
+Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood;
+With them we'll deck our Lady shrine,
+She'll cheer our souls with bread divine!"
+At this poor Gretchen 'gan to pout;
+'Tis a gift-horse, at least, she thought,
+And sure, he godless cannot be,
+Who brought them here so cleverly.
+Straight for a priest the mother sent,
+Who, when he understood the jest,
+With what he saw was well content.
+"This shows a pious mind!" Quoth he:
+"Self-conquest is true victory.
+The Church hath a good stomach, she, with zest,
+Whole countries hath swallow'd down,
+And never yet a surfeit known.
+The Church alone, be it confessed,
+Daughters, can ill-got wealth digest."
+
+FAUST
+
+It is a general custom, too,
+Practised alike by king and jew.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+With that, clasp, chain, and ring, he swept
+As they were mushrooms; and the casket,
+Without one word of thanks, he kept,
+As if of nuts it were a basket.
+Promised reward in heaven, then forth he hied--
+And greatly they were edified.
+
+FAUST
+
+And Gretchen!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ In unquiet mood
+Knows neither what she would or should;
+The trinkets night and day thinks o'er;
+On him who brought them, dwells still more.
+
+FAUST
+
+The darling's sorrow grieves me, bring
+Another set without delay!
+The first, methinks, was no great thing.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+All's to my gentleman child's play!
+
+FAUST
+
+Plan all things to achieve my end!
+Engage the attention of her friend!
+No milk-and-water devil be,
+And bring fresh jewels instantly!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay, sir! Most gladly I'll obey.
+
+[FAUST _exit_.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Your doting love-sick fool, with ease,
+Merely his lady-love to please,
+Sun, moon, and stars in sport would puff away.
+
+[_Exit._]
+
+
+THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE
+
+MARTHA (_alone_)
+
+God pardon my dear husband, he
+Doth not in truth act well by me!
+Forth in the world abroad to roam,
+And leave me on the straw at home.
+And yet his will I ne'er did thwart,
+God knows, I lov'd him from my heart.
+
+[_She weeps._]
+
+Perchance he's dead!--oh wretched state!--
+Had I but a certificate!
+
+(MARGARET _comes_.)
+
+MARGARET
+
+Dame Martha!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ Gretchen?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Only think!
+My knees beneath me well-nigh sink!
+Within my press I've found today
+Another case, of ebony.
+And things--magnificent they are,
+More costly than the first, by far.
+
+MARTHA
+
+You must not name it to your mother!
+It would to shrift, just like the other.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Nay look at them! now only see!
+
+MARTHA (_dresses her up_)
+
+Thou happy creature!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Woe is me!
+Them in the street I cannot wear,
+Or in the church, or anywhere.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Come often over here to me,
+The gems put on quite privately;
+And then before the mirror walk an hour or so,
+Thus we shall have our pleasure too.
+Then suitable occasions we must seize,
+As at a feast, to show them by degrees:
+A chain at first, pearl ear-drops then,--your mother
+Won't see them, or we'll coin some tale or other.
+
+MARGARET
+
+But, who, I wonder, could the caskets bring?
+I fear there's something wrong about the thing!
+
+[_A knock._]
+
+Good heavens! can that my mother be?
+
+MARTHA (_peering through the blind_)
+
+'Tis a strange gentleman, I see.
+Come in!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I've ventur'd to intrude today.
+Ladies, excuse the liberty, I pray.
+
+[_He steps back respectfully before_ MARGARET.]
+
+After dame Martha Schwerdtlein I inquire!
+
+MARTHA
+
+'Tis I. Pray what have you to say to me?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside to her_)
+
+I know you now,--and therefore will retire;
+At present you've distinguished company.
+Pardon the freedom, Madam, with your leave,
+I will make free to call again at eve.
+
+MARTHA (_aloud_)
+
+Why, child, of all strange notions, he
+For some grand lady taketh thee!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I am, in truth, of humble blood--
+The gentleman is far too good--
+Nor gems nor trinkets are my own.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh 'tis not the mere ornaments alone;
+Her glance and mien far more betray.
+Rejoiced I am that I may stay.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Your business, Sir? I long to know--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Would I could happier tidings show!
+I trust mine errand you'll not let me rue;
+Your husband's dead, and greeteth you.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Is dead? True heart! Oh misery!
+My husband dead! Oh, I shall die!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas! good Martha! don't despair!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now listen to the sad affair!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I for this cause should fear to love.
+The loss my certain death would prove.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Joy still must sorrow, sorrow joy attend.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Proceed, and tell the story of his end!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+At Padua, in St. Anthony's,
+In holy ground his body lies;
+Quiet and cool his place of rest,
+With pious ceremonials blest.
+
+MARTHA
+
+And had you naught besides to bring?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh yes! one grave and solemn prayer;
+Let them for him three hundred masses sing!
+But in my pockets, I have nothing there.
+
+MARTHA
+
+No trinket! no love-token did he send!
+What every journeyman safe in his pouch will hoard
+There for remembrance fondly stored,
+And rather hungers, rather begs than spend!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Madam, in truth, it grieves me sore,
+But he his gold not lavishly hath spent.
+His failings too he deeply did repent,
+Ay! and his evil plight bewail'd still more.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas! That men should thus be doomed to woe!
+I for his soul will many a requiem pray.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A husband you deserve this very day;
+A child so worthy to be loved.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Ah no,
+That time hath not yet come for me.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If not a spouse, a gallant let it be.
+Among heaven's choicest gifts, I place,
+So sweet a darling to embrace.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Our land doth no such usage know.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Usage or not, it happens so.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Go on, I pray!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I stood by his bedside.
+Something less foul it was than dung;
+'Twas straw half rotten; yet, he as a Christian died.
+And sorely hath remorse his conscience wrung.
+"Wretch that I was," quoth he, with parting breath,
+"So to forsake my business and my wife!
+Ah! the remembrance is my death.
+Could I but have her pardon in this life!"--
+
+MARTHA (_weeping_)
+
+Dear soul! I've long forgiven him, indeed!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+"Though she, God knows, was more to blame than I."
+
+MARTHA
+
+He lied! What, on the brink of death to lie!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If I am skill'd the countenance to read,
+He doubtless fabled as he parted hence.--
+"No time had I to gape, or take my ease," he said,
+"First to get children, and then get them bread;
+And bread, too, in the very widest sense;
+Nor could I eat in peace even my proper share."
+
+MARTHA
+
+What, all my truth, my love forgotten quite?
+My weary drudgery by day and night!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Not so! He thought of you with tender care.
+Quoth he: "Heaven knows how fervently I prayed,
+For wife and children when from Malta bound;--
+The prayer hath heaven with favor crowned;
+We took a Turkish vessel which conveyed
+Rich store of treasure for the Sultan's court;
+Its own reward our gallant action brought;
+The captur'd prize was shared among the crew,
+And of the treasure I received my due."
+
+MARTHA
+
+How? Where? The treasure hath he buried, pray?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Where the four winds have blown it, who can say?
+In Naples as he stroll'd, a stranger there,--
+A comely maid took pity on my friend:
+And gave such tokens of her love and care,
+That he retained them to his blessed end.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Scoundrel! to rob his children of their bread!
+And all this misery, this bitter need,
+Could not his course of recklessness impede!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Well, he hath paid the forfeit, and is dead.
+Now were I in your place, my counsel hear;
+My weeds I'd wear for one chaste year,
+And for another lover meanwhile would look out.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Alas, I might search far and near,
+Not quickly should I find another like my first!
+There could not be a fonder fool than mine,
+Only he loved too well abroad to roam;
+Loved foreign women too, and foreign wine,
+And loved besides the dice accurs'd.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+All had gone swimmingly, no doubt,
+Had he but given you at home,
+On his side, just as wide a range.
+Upon such terms, to you I swear,
+Myself with you would gladly rings exchange!
+
+MARTHA
+
+The gentleman is surely pleas'd to jest!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+Now to be off in time, were best!
+She'd make the very devil marry her.
+
+(_To_ MARGARET)
+
+How fares it with your heart?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ How mean you, Sir?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+The sweet young innocent!
+
+(_aloud_)
+
+ Ladies, farewell!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Farewell!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ But ere you leave us, quickly tell!
+I from a witness fain had heard,
+Where, how, and when my husband died and was interr'd.
+To forms I've always been attached indeed,
+His death I fain would in the journals read.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay, madam, what two witnesses declare
+Is held as valid everywhere;
+A gallant friend I have, not far from here,
+Who will for you before the judge appear.
+I'll bring him straight.
+
+MARTHA
+
+ I pray you do!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And this young lady, we shall find her too?
+A noble youth, far traveled, he
+Shows to the sex all courtesy.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I in his presence needs must blush for shame.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Not in the presence of a crownèd king!
+
+MARTHA
+
+The garden, then, behind my house, we'll name,
+There we'll await you both this evening.
+
+
+A STREET
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+How is it now? How speeds it? Is't in train?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Bravo! I find you all aflame!
+Gretchen full soon your own you'll name.
+This eve, at neighbor Martha's, her you'll meet again;
+The woman seems expressly made
+To drive the pimp and gipsy's trade.
+
+FAUST
+
+Good!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ But from us she something would request.
+
+FAUST
+
+A favor claims return, as this world goes.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We have on oath but duly to attest
+That her dead husband's limbs, outstretch'd, repose
+In holy ground at Padua.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Sage indeed!
+So I suppose we straight must journey there!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+_Sancta simplicitas!_ For that no need!
+Without much knowledge we have but to swear.
+
+FAUST
+
+If you have nothing better to suggest,
+Against your plan I must at once protest.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh, holy man! methinks I have you there!
+In all your life, say, have you ne'er
+False witness borne, until this hour?
+Have you of God, the world, and all it doth contain,
+Of man, and that which worketh in his heart and brain,
+Not definitions given, in words of weight and power,
+With front unblushing, and a dauntless breast?
+Yet, if into the depth of things you go,
+Touching these matters, it must be confess'd,
+As much as of Herr Schwerdtlein's death you know!
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou art and dost remain liar and sophist too.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay, if one did not take a somewhat deeper view!
+Tomorrow, in all honor, thou
+Poor Gretchen wilt befool, and vow
+Thy soul's deep love, in lover's fashion.
+
+FAUST
+
+And from my heart.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ All good and fair!
+Then deathless constancy thou'lt swear;
+Speak of one all o'ermastering passion--
+Will that too issue from the heart?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Forbear!
+When passion sways me, and I seek to frame
+Fit utterance for feeling, deep, intense,
+And for my frenzy finding no fit name,
+Sweep round the ample world with every sense,
+Grasp at the loftiest words to speak my flame,
+And call the glow, wherewith I burn,
+Quenchless, eternal, yea, eterne--
+Is that of sophistry a devilish play?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Yet am I right!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Mark this, my friend,
+And spare my lungs; who would the right maintain,
+And hath a tongue wherewith his point to gain,
+Will gain it in the end.
+But come, of gossip I am weary quite;
+Because I've no resource, thou'rt in the right.
+
+
+GARDEN
+
+MARGARET _on_ FAUST's _arm_. MARTHA _with_ MEPHISTOPHELES _walking up
+and down_.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I feel it, you but spare my ignorance,
+The gentleman to blame me stoops thus low.
+
+[Illustration: FAUST AND MARGARET _From the Painting by Carl Becker_]
+
+A traveler from complaisance
+Still makes the best of things; I know
+Too well, my humble prattle never can
+Have power to entertain so wise a man.
+
+FAUST
+
+One glance, one word from thee doth charm me more
+Than the world's wisdom or the sage's lore.
+
+[_He kisses her hand._]
+
+MARGARET
+
+Nay! trouble not yourself! A hand so coarse,
+So rude as mine, how can you kiss!
+What constant work at home must I not do perforce!
+My mother too exacting is.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+MARTHA
+
+Thus, sir, unceasing travel is your lot?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Traffic and duty urge us! With what pain
+Are we compelled to leave full many a spot,
+Where yet we dare not once remain!
+
+MARTHA
+
+In youth's wild years, with vigor crown'd,
+'Tis not amiss thus through the world to sweep;
+But ah, the evil days come round!
+And to a lonely grave as bachelor to creep
+A pleasant thing has no one found.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The prospect fills me with dismay.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Therefore in time, dear sir, reflect, I pray.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+MARGARET
+
+Ay, out of sight is out of mind!
+Politeness easy is to you;
+Friends everywhere, and not a few,
+Wiser than I am, you will find.
+
+FAUST
+
+O dearest, trust me, what doth pass for sense
+Full oft is self-conceit and blindness!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ How?
+
+FAUST
+
+Simplicity and holy innocence--
+When will ye learn your hallow'd worth to know!
+Ah, when will meekness and humility,
+Kind and all-bounteous nature's loftiest dower--
+
+MARGARET
+
+Only one little moment think of me!
+To think of you I shall have many an hour.
+
+FAUST
+
+You are perhaps much alone?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Yes, small our household is, I own,
+Yet must I see to it. No maid we keep,
+And I must cook, sew, knit, and sweep,
+Still early on my feet and late;
+My mother is in all things, great and small,
+So accurate!
+Not that for thrift there is such pressing need,
+Than others we might make more show indeed;
+My father left behind a small estate,
+A house and garden near the city-wall.
+But fairly quiet now my days, I own;
+As soldier is my brother gone;
+My little sister's dead; the babe to rear
+Occasion'd me some care and fond annoy;
+But I would go through all again with joy,
+The darling was to me so dear.
+
+FAUST
+
+An angel, sweet, if it resembled thee!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I reared it up, and it grew fond of me.
+After my father's death it saw the day;
+We gave my mother up for lost, she lay
+In such a wretched plight, and then at length
+So very slowly she regain'd her strength.
+Weak as she was, 'twas vain for her to try
+Herself to suckle the poor babe, so I
+Reared it on milk and water all alone;
+And thus the child became as 'twere my own;
+Within my arms it stretched itself and grew,
+And smiling, nestled in my bosom too.
+
+FAUST
+
+Doubtless the purest happiness was thine.
+
+MARGARET
+
+But many weary hours, in sooth, were also mine.
+At night its little cradle stood
+Close to my bed; so was I wide awake
+If it but stirred;
+One while I was obliged to give it food,
+Or to my arms the darling take;
+From bed full oft must rise, whene'er its cry I heard,
+And, dancing it, must pace the chamber to and fro;
+Stand at the wash-tub early; forthwith go
+To market, and then mind the cooking too--
+Tomorrow like today, the whole year through.
+Ah, sir, thus living, it must be confess'd
+One's spirits are not always of the best;
+Yet it a relish gives to food and rest.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+MARTHA
+
+Poor women! we are badly off, I own;
+A bachelor's conversion's hard, indeed!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Madam, with one like you it rests alone,
+To tutor me a better course to lead.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Speak frankly, sir, none is there you have met?
+Has your heart ne'er attach'd itself as yet?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+One's own fire-side and a good wife are gold
+And pearls of price, so says the proverb old.
+
+MARTHA
+
+I mean, has passion never stirred your breast?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I've everywhere been well received, I own.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Yet hath your heart no earnest preference known?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+With ladies one should ne'er presume to jest.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Ah! you mistake!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I'm sorry I'm so blind!
+But this I know--that you are very kind.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+FAUST
+
+Me, little angel, didst thou recognize,
+When in the garden first I came?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou dost forgive my boldness, dost not blame
+The liberty I took that day,
+When thou from church didst lately wend thy way?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I was confused. So had it never been;
+No one of me could any evil say.
+Alas, thought I, he doubtless in thy mien,
+Something unmaidenly or bold hath seen?
+
+[Illustration: FAUST AND MARGARET IN THE GARDEN Liezen-Mayer]
+
+It seemed as if it struck him suddenly,
+Here's just a girl with whom one may make free!
+Yet I must own that then I scarcely knew
+What in your favor here began at once to plead;
+Yet I was angry with myself indeed
+That I more angry could not feel with you.
+
+FAUST
+
+Sweet love!
+
+MARGARET
+
+                   Just wait awhile!
+[_She gathers a star-flower and plucks off the leaves
+one after another._]
+
+FAUST
+
+                    A nosegay may that be?
+
+MARGARET
+
+No! It is but a game.
+
+FAUST
+
+                   How?
+
+MARGARET
+
+                 Go, you'll laugh at me!
+
+[_She plucks off the leaves and murmurs to herself._]
+
+FAUST
+
+What murmurest thou?
+
+MARGARET (_half aloud_)
+
+             He loves me--loves me not.
+
+FAUST
+
+Sweet angel, with thy face of heavenly bliss!
+
+MARGARET (_continues_)
+
+He loves me--not--he loves me--not--
+    [_plucking off the last leaf with fond joy_.]
+
+                     He loves me!
+
+FAUST
+
+                                 Yes!
+And this flower-language, darling, let it be
+A heavenly oracle! He loveth thee!
+Know'st thou the meaning of, He loveth thee?
+                     [_He seizes both her hands._]
+
+MARGARET
+
+I tremble so!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Nay! do not tremble, love!
+Let this hand-pressure, let this glance reveal
+Feelings, all power of speech above;
+To give oneself up wholly and to feel
+A joy that must eternal prove!
+Eternal!--Yes, its end would be despair,
+No end!--It cannot end!
+
+[MARGARET _presses his hand, extricates herself, and
+runs away. He stands a moment in thought, and
+then follows her_.]
+
+MARTHA (_approaching_)
+
+Night's closing.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Yes, we'll presently away.
+
+MARTHA
+
+I would entreat you longer yet to stay;
+But 'tis a wicked place, just here about;
+It is as if the folk had nothing else to do,
+Nothing to think of too,
+But gaping watch their neighbors, who goes in and out;
+And scandal's busy still, do whatsoe'er one may.
+And our young couple?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ They have flown up there,
+The wanton butterflies!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ He seems to take to her.
+And she to him. 'Tis of the world the way!
+
+
+A SUMMER-HOUSE
+
+[MARGARET _runs in, hides behind the door, holds the tip
+of her finger to her lip, and peeps through the
+crevice_.]
+
+MARGARET
+
+He comes!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Ah, little rogue, so thou
+Think'st to provoke me! I have caught thee now!
+
+[_He kisses her._]
+
+MARGARET (_embracing him, and returning the kiss_)
+
+Dearest of men! I love thee from my heart!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_.]
+
+FAUST (_stamping_)
+
+Who's there?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ A friend!
+
+FAUST
+
+ A brute!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ 'Tis time to part.
+
+MARTHA (_comes_)
+
+Ay, it is late, good sir.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Mayn't I attend you, then?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Oh no--my mother would--adieu, adieu!
+
+FAUST
+
+And must I really then take leave of you?
+Farewell!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ Good-bye!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Ere long to meet again!
+
+[_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]
+
+MARGARET
+
+Good heavens! how all things far and near
+Must fill his mind--a man like this!
+Abash'd before him I appear,
+And say to all things only, yes.
+Poor simple child, I cannot see
+What 'tis that he can find in me.
+
+[_Exit._]
+
+FOREST AND CAVERN
+
+FAUST (_alone_)
+
+Spirit sublime! Thou gav'st me, gav'st me all
+For which I prayed! Not vainly hast thou turn'd
+To me thy countenance in flaming fire:
+Gavest me glorious nature for my realm,
+And also power to feel her and enjoy;
+Not merely with a cold and wondering glance,
+Thou dost permit me in her depths profound,
+As in the bosom of a friend to gaze.
+Before me thou dost lead her living tribes,
+And dost in silent grove, in air and stream
+Teach me to know my kindred. And when roars
+The howling storm-blast through the groaning wood,
+Wrenching the giant pine, which in its fall
+Crashing sweeps down its neighbor trunks and boughs,
+While hollow thunder from the hill resounds:
+Then thou dost lead me to some shelter'd cave,
+Dost there reveal me to myself, and show
+Of my own bosom the mysterious depths.
+And when with soothing beam, the moon's pale orb
+Full in my view climbs up the pathless sky,
+From crag and dewy grove, the silvery forms
+Of by-gone ages hover, and assuage
+The joy austere of contemplative thought.
+
+Oh, that naught perfect is assign'd to man,
+I feel, alas! With this exalted joy,
+Which lifts me near, and nearer to the gods,
+Thou gav'st me this companion, unto whom
+I needs must cling, though cold and insolent,
+He still degrades me to myself, and turns
+Thy glorious gifts to nothing, with a breath.
+He in my bosom with malicious zeal
+For that fair image fans a raging fire;
+From craving to enjoyment thus I reel,
+And in enjoyment languish for desire.
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of this lone life have you not had your fill?
+How for so long can it have charms for you?
+'Tis well enough to try it if you will;
+But then away again to something new!
+
+FAUST
+
+Would you could better occupy your leisure,
+Than in disturbing thus my hours of joy.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Well! Well! I'll leave you to yourself with pleasure,
+A serious tone you hardly dare employ.
+To part from one so crazy, harsh, and cross,
+Were not in truth a grievous loss.
+The live-long day, for you I toil and fret;
+Ne'er from his worship's face a hint I get,
+What pleases him, or what to let alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay truly! that is just the proper tone!
+He wearies me, and would with thanks be paid!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Poor Son of Earth, without my aid,
+How would thy weary days have flown?
+Thee of thy foolish whims I've cured,
+Thy vain imaginations banished.
+And but for me, be well assured,
+Thou from this sphere must soon have vanished.
+In rocky hollows and in caverns drear,
+Why like an owl sit moping here?
+Wherefore from dripping stones and moss with ooze embued,
+Dost suck, like any toad, thy food?
+A rare, sweet pastime. Verily!
+The doctor cleaveth still to thee.
+
+FAUST
+
+Dost comprehend what bliss without alloy
+From this wild wand'ring in the desert springs?--
+Couldst thou but guess the new life-power it brings,
+Thou wouldst be fiend enough to envy me my joy.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What super-earthly ecstasy! at night,
+To lie in darkness on the dewy height,
+Embracing heaven and earth in rapture high,
+The soul dilating to a deity;
+With prescient yearnings pierce the core of earth,
+Feel in your laboring breast the six-days' birth,
+Enjoy, in proud delight what no one knows,
+While your love-rapture o'er creation flows--
+The earthly lost in beatific vision,
+And then the lofty intuition--
+
+(_with a gesture_)
+
+I need not tell you how--to close!
+
+FAUST
+
+Fie on you!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ This displeases you? "For shame!"
+You are forsooth entitled to exclaim;
+We to chaste ears it seems must not pronounce
+What, nathless, the chaste heart cannot renounce.
+Well, to be brief, the joy as fit occasions rise,
+I grudge you not, of specious lies.
+But long this mood thou'lt not retain.
+Already thou'rt again outworn,
+And should this last, thou wilt be torn
+By frenzy or remorse and pain.
+Enough of this! Thy true love dwells apart,
+And all to her seems flat and tame;
+Alone thine image fills her heart,
+She loves thee with an all-devouring flame.
+First came thy passion with o'erpowering rush,
+Like mountain torrent, swollen by the melted snow;
+Full in her heart didst pour the sudden gush,
+Now has thy brooklet ceased to flow.
+Instead of sitting throned midst forests wild,
+It would become so great a lord
+To comfort the enamor'd child,
+And the young monkey for her love reward.
+To her the hours seem miserably long;
+She from the window sees the clouds float by
+As o'er the lofty city-walls they fly.
+"If I a birdie were!" so runs her song,
+Half through the night and all day long.
+Cheerful sometimes, more oft at heart full sore;
+Fairly outwept seem now her tears,
+Anon she tranquil is, or so appears,
+And love-sick evermore.
+
+FAUST
+
+Snake! Serpent vile!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+Good! If I catch thee with my guile!
+
+FAUST
+
+Vile reprobate! go get thee hence;
+Forbear the lovely girl to name!
+Nor in my half-distracted sense
+Kindle anew the smouldering flame!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What wouldest thou! She thinks you've taken flight;
+It seems, she's partly in the right.
+
+FAUST
+
+I'm near her still--and should I distant rove,
+Her I can ne'er forget, ne'er lose her love;
+And all things touch'd by those sweet lips of hers,
+Even the very Host, my envy stirs.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis well! I oft have envied you indeed,
+The twin-pair that among the roses feed.
+
+FAUST
+
+Pander, avaunt!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Go to! I laugh, the while you rail;
+The power which fashion'd youth and maid
+Well understood the noble trade;
+So neither shall occasion fail.
+But hence!--A mighty grief I trow!
+Unto thy lov'd one's chamber thou
+And not to death shouldst go.
+
+FAUST
+
+What is to me heaven's joy within her arms?
+What though my life her bosom warms!--
+Do I not ever feel her woe?
+The outcast am I not, unhoused, unblest,
+Inhuman monster, without aim or rest,
+Who, like the greedy surge, from rock to rock,
+Sweeps down the dread abyss with desperate shock?
+While she, within her lowly cot, which graced
+The Alpine slope, beside the waters wild,
+Her homely cares in that small world embraced,
+Secluded lived, a simple artless child.
+Was't not enough, in thy delirious whirl
+To blast the stedfast rocks!
+Her, and her peace as well,
+Must I, God-hated one, to ruin hurl!
+Dost claim this holocaust, remorseless Hell!
+Fiend, help me to cut short the hours of dread!
+Let what must happen, happen speedily!
+Her direful doom fall crushing on my head,
+And into ruin let her plunge with me!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Why how again it seethes and glows!
+Away, thou fool! Her torment ease!
+When such a head no issue sees,
+It pictures straight the final close.
+Long life to him who boldly dares!
+A devil's pluck thou'rt wont to show;
+As for a devil who despairs--
+Nothing I find so mawkish here below.
+
+
+MARGARET'S ROOM
+
+MARGARET (_alone at her spinning wheel_)
+
+
+   My peace is gone,
+      My heart is sore,
+    I find it never,
+      And nevermore!
+
+    Where him I have not,
+      Is the grave; and all
+    The world to me
+      Is turned to gall.
+
+    My wilder'd brain
+      Is overwrought;
+    My feeble senses
+      Are distraught.
+
+    My peace is gone,
+      My heart is sore,
+    I find it never,
+      And nevermore!
+
+    For him from the window
+      I gaze, at home;
+    For him and him only
+      Abroad I roam.
+    His lofty step,
+       His bearing high,
+    The smile of his lip,
+       The power of his eye,
+
+    His witching words,
+      Their tones of bliss,
+    His hand's fond pressure,
+      And ah--his kiss!
+
+    My peace is gone,
+      My heart is sore,
+    I find it never,
+      And nevermore.
+
+    My bosom aches
+      To feel him near;
+    Ah, could I clasp
+      And fold him here!
+
+   Kiss him and kiss him
+     Again would I,
+   And on his kisses
+    I fain would die.
+
+
+MARTHA'S GARDEN
+
+MARGARET _and_ FAUST
+
+MARGARET
+
+Promise me, Henry!
+
+FAUST
+
+What I can!
+
+MARGARET
+
+How thy religion fares, I fain would hear.
+Thou art a good kind-hearted man,
+Only that way not well-disposed, I fear.
+
+FAUST
+
+Forbear, my child! Thou feelest thee I love;
+My heart, my blood I'd give, my love to prove,
+And none would of their faith or church bereave.
+
+MARGARET
+
+That's not enough, we must ourselves believe!
+
+FAUST
+
+Must we?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Ah, could I but thy soul inspire!
+Thou honorest not the sacraments, alas!
+
+FAUST
+
+I honor them.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ But yet without desire;
+'Tis long since thou hast been either to shrift or mass.
+Dost thou believe in God?
+
+FAUST
+
+ My darling, who dares say?
+Yes, I in God believe.
+Question or priest or sage, and they
+Seem, in the answer you receive,
+To mock the questioner.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Then thou dost not believe?
+
+FAUST
+
+Sweet one! my meaning do not misconceive!
+Him who dare name,
+And who proclaim--
+Him I believe?
+Who that can feel,
+His heart can steel,
+To say: I believe him not?
+The All-embracer,
+All-sustainer,
+Holds and sustains he not
+Thee, me, himself?
+Lifts not the Heaven its dome above?
+Doth not the firm-set earth beneath us lie?
+And, beaming tenderly with looks of love,
+Climb not the everlasting stars on high?
+Do we not gaze into each other's eyes?
+Nature's impenetrable agencies,
+Are they not thronging on thy heart and brain,
+Viewless, or visible to mortal ken,
+Around thee weaving their mysterious chain?
+Fill thence thy heart, how large soe'er it be;
+And in the feeling when thou utterly art blest,
+Then call it, what thou wilt--
+Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God!
+I have no name for it!
+'Tis feeling all;
+Name is but sound and smoke
+Shrouding the glow of heaven.
+
+MARGARET
+
+All this is doubtless good and fair;
+Almost the same the parson says,
+Only in slightly different phrase.
+
+FAUST
+
+Beneath Heaven's sunshine, everywhere,
+This is the utterance of the human heart;
+Each in his language doth the like impart;
+Then why not I in mine?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ What thus I hear
+Sounds plausible, yet I'm not reconciled;
+There's something wrong about it; much I fear
+That thou art not a Christian.
+
+FAUST
+
+ My sweet child!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas! it long hath sorely troubled me,
+To see thee in such odious company.
+
+FAUST
+
+How so?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ The man who comes with thee, I hate,
+Yea, in my spirit's inmost depths abhor;
+As his loath'd visage, in my life before,
+Naught to my heart e'er gave a pang so great.
+
+FAUST
+
+Him fear not, my sweet love!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ His presence chills my blood.
+Toward all beside I have a kindly mood;
+Yet, though I yearn to gaze on thee, I feel
+At sight of him strange horror o'er me steal;
+That he's a villain my conviction's strong.
+May Heaven forgive me, if I do him wrong!
+
+FAUST
+
+Yet such strange fellows in the world must be!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I would not live with such an one as he.
+If for a moment he but enter here,
+He looks around him with a mocking sneer,
+And malice ill-conceal'd;
+That he with naught on earth can sympathize is clear;
+Upon his brow 'tis legibly revealed
+That to his heart no living soul is dear.
+So blest I feel, within thine arms,
+So warm and happy--free from all alarms;
+And still my heart doth close when he comes near.
+
+FAUST
+
+Foreboding angel! check thy fear!
+
+MARGARET
+
+It so o'ermasters me that when,
+Or wheresoe'er, his step I hear,
+I almost think, no more I love thee then.
+Besides, when he is near, I ne'er could pray.
+This eats into my heart; with thee
+The same, my Henry, it must be.
+
+FAUST
+
+This is antipathy!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ I must away.
+
+FAUST
+
+For one brief hour then may I never rest,
+And heart to heart, and soul to soul be pressed?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Ah, if I slept alone! Tonight
+The bolt I fain would leave undrawn for thee;
+But then my mother's sleep is light,
+Were we surprised by her, ah me!
+Upon the spot I should be dead.
+
+FAUST
+
+Dear angel! there's no cause for dread.
+Here is a little phial--if she take
+Mixed in her drink three drops, 'twill steep
+Her nature in a deep and soothing sleep.
+
+MARGARET
+
+What do I not for thy dear sake!
+To her it will not harmful prove?
+
+FAUST
+
+Should I advise it else, sweet love?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I know not, dearest, when thy face I see,
+What doth my spirit to thy will constrain;
+Already I have done so much for thee,
+That scarcely more to do doth now remain. [_Exit._]
+
+(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_)
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The monkey! Is she gone?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Again hast played the spy?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of all that pass'd I'm well apprized,
+I heard the doctor catechized,
+And trust he'll profit much thereby!
+Fain would the girls inquire indeed
+Touching their lover's faith and creed,
+And whether pious in the good old way;
+They think, if pliant there, us too he will obey.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou monster, dost not see that this
+Pure soul, possessed by ardent love,
+Full of the living faith,
+To her of bliss
+The only pledge, must holy anguish prove,
+Holding the man she loves fore-doomed to endless death!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Most sensual, supersensualist! The while
+A damsel leads thee by the nose!
+
+FAUST
+
+Of filth and fire abortion vile!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In physiognomy strange skill she shows;
+She in my presence feels she knows not how;
+My mask it seems a hidden sense reveals;
+That I'm a genius she must needs allow,
+That I'm the very devil perhaps she feels.
+So then tonight--
+
+FAUST
+
+ What's that to you?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I've my amusement in it too!
+
+
+AT THE WELL
+
+MARGARET _and_ BESSY, _with pitchers_
+
+BESSY
+
+Of Barbara hast nothing heard?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I rarely go from home--no, not a word.
+
+BESSY
+
+'Tis true: Sybilla told me so today!
+That comes of being proud, methinks;
+She played the fool at last.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ How so?
+
+BESSY
+
+ They say
+That two she feedeth when she eats and drinks.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas!
+
+BESSY
+
+ She's rightly served, in sooth.
+How long she hung upon the youth!
+What promenades, what jaunts there were
+To dancing booth and village fair!
+The first she everywhere must shine,
+He always treating her to pastry and to wine.
+Of her good looks she was so vain,
+So shameless too, that to retain
+His presents, she did not disdain;
+Sweet words and kisses came anon--
+And then the virgin flower was gone.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Poor thing!
+
+BESSY
+
+ Forsooth dost pity her?
+At night, when at our wheels we sat,
+Abroad our mothers ne'er would let us stir.
+Then with her lover she must chat,
+Or on the bench, or in the dusky walk,
+Thinking the hours too brief for their sweet talk;
+Her proud head she will have to bow,
+And in white sheet do penance now!
+
+MARGARET
+
+But he will surely marry her?
+
+BESSY
+
+ Not he!
+He won't be such a fool! a gallant lad
+Like him can roam o'er land and sea;
+Besides, he's off.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ That is not fair!
+
+BESSY
+
+If she should get him, 'twere almost as bad!
+Her myrtle wreath the boys would tear;
+And then we girls would plague her too,
+For we chopp'd straw before her door would strew!
+
+[_Exit._]
+
+MARGARET (_walking toward home_)
+
+How stoutly once I could inveigh,
+If a poor maiden went astray;
+Not words enough my tongue could find,
+'Gainst others' sin to speak my mind!
+Black as it seemed, I blacken'd it still more,
+And strove to make it blacker than before.
+And did myself securely bless--
+Now my own trespass doth appear!
+Yet ah!--what urg'd me to transgress,
+God knows, it was so sweet, so dear!
+
+ZWINGER
+
+_Inclosure between the City-wall and the Gate. (In the niche of the wall a
+devotional image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower-pots before it.)_
+
+MARGARET (_putting fresh flowers in the pots_)
+
+ Ah, rich in sorrow, thou,
+ Stoop thy maternal brow,
+ And mark with pitying eye my misery!
+ The sword in thy pierced heart,
+ Thou dost with bitter smart
+ Gaze upwards on thy Son's death agony.
+ To the dear God on high
+ Ascends thy piteous sigh,
+ Pleading for his and thy sore misery.
+
+ Ah, who can know
+ The torturing woe,
+ The pangs that rack me to the bone?
+ How my poor heart, without relief,
+ Trembles and throbs, its yearning grief
+ Thou knowest, thou alone!
+
+ Ah, wheresoe'er I go,
+ With woe, with woe, with woe,
+ My anguish'd breast is aching!
+ When all alone I creep,
+ I weep, I weep, I weep,
+ Alas! my heart is breaking!
+
+ The flower-pots at my window
+ Were wet with tears of mine,
+ The while I pluck'd these blossoms
+ At dawn to deck thy shrine!
+
+ When early in my chamber
+ Shone bright the rising morn,
+ I sat there on my pallet,
+ My heart with anguish torn.
+
+ Help! from disgrace and death deliver me!
+ Ah! rich in sorrow, thou,
+ Stoop thy maternal brow,
+ And mark with pitying eye my misery!
+
+
+NIGHT. STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR
+
+VALENTINE (_a soldier_, MARGARET's _brother_)
+
+When seated 'mong the jovial crowd,
+Where merry comrades boasting loud
+Each named with pride his favorite lass,
+And in her honor drain'd his glass;
+Upon my elbows I would lean,
+With easy quiet view the scene,
+Nor give my tongue the rein, until
+Each swaggering blade had talked his fill.
+Then smiling I my beard would stroke,
+The while, with brimming glass, I spoke;
+"Each to his taste!--but to my mind,
+Where in the country will you find,
+A maid, as my dear Gretchen fair,
+Who with my sister can compare?"
+Cling! clang! so rang the jovial sound!
+Shouts of assent went circling round;
+Pride of her sex is she!--cried some;
+Then were the noisy boasters dumb.
+
+And now!--I could tear out my hair,
+Or dash my brains out in despair!--
+Me every scurvy knave may twit,
+With stinging jest and taunting sneer!
+Like skulking debtor I must sit,
+And sweat each casual word to hear!
+And though I smash'd them one and all,--
+Yet them I could not liars call.
+ Who comes this way? who's sneaking here?
+ If I mistake not, two draw near.
+ If he be one, have at him;--well I wot
+ Alive he shall not leave this spot!
+
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+How far from yon sacristy, athwart the night,
+Its beams the ever-burning taper throws,
+While ever waning, fades the glimmering light,
+As gathering darkness doth around it close!
+So night like gloom doth in my bosom reign.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'm like a tom-cat in a thievish vein
+That up fire-ladders tall and steep
+And round the walls doth slyly creep;
+Virtuous withal I feel, with, I confess.
+A touch of thievish joy and wantonness.
+Thus through my limbs already burns
+The glorious Walpurgis night!
+After tomorrow it returns;
+Then why one wakes, one knows aright!
+
+FAUST
+
+Meanwhile, the treasure I see glimmering there.
+Will it ascend into the open air?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ere long thou wilt proceed with pleasure
+To raise the casket with its treasure;
+I took a peep, therein are stored
+Of lion-dollars a rich hoard.
+
+FAUST
+
+And not a trinket? not a ring?
+Wherewith my lovely girl to deck?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I saw among them some such thing,
+A string of pearls to grace her neck.
+
+FAUST
+
+'Tis well! I'm always loath to go,
+Without some gift my love to show.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Some pleasures gratis to enjoy
+Should surely cause you no annoy.
+While bright with stars the heavens appear,
+I'll sing a masterpiece of art:
+A moral song shall charm her ear,
+More surely to beguile her heart.
+
+(_Sings to the guitar._)
+
+ Kathrina, say,
+ Why lingering stay
+ At dawn of day
+ Before your lover's door?
+ Maiden, beware,
+ Nor enter there,
+ Lest forth you fare,
+ A maiden never more.
+
+ Maiden take heed!
+ Reck well my rede!
+ Is't done, the deed?
+ Good night, you poor, poor thing!
+ The spoiler's lies,
+ His arts despise,
+ Nor yield your prize,
+ Without the marriage ring!
+
+VALENTINE (_steps forward_)
+
+Whom are you luring here? I'll give it you!
+Accursed rat-catchers, your strains I'll end!
+First, to the devil the guitar I'll send!
+Then to the devil with the singer too!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The poor guitar! 'tis done for now.
+
+VALENTINE
+
+Your skull shall follow next, I trow!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Doctor, stand fast! your strength collect!
+Be prompt, and do as I direct.
+Out with your whisk! keep close, I pray,
+I'll parry! do you thrust away!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+Then parry that!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Why not?
+
+
+VALENTINE
+
+ That too!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+With ease!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+ The devil fights for you!
+Why how is this? my hand's already lamed!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Thrust home!
+
+VALENTINE (_falls_)
+
+ Alas!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ There! Now the lubber's tamed!
+But quick, away! We must at once take wing;
+A cry of murder strikes upon the ear;
+With the police I know my course to steer,
+But with the blood-ban 'tis another thing.
+
+MARTHA (_at the window_)
+
+Without! without!
+
+MARGARET (_at the window_)
+
+ Quick, bring a light!
+
+MARTHA (_as above_)
+
+They rail and scuffle, scream and fight!
+
+PEOPLE
+
+One lieth here already dead!
+
+MARTHA (_coming out_)
+
+Where are the murderers? are they fled?
+
+MARGARET (_coming out_)
+
+Who lieth here?
+
+PEOPLE
+
+Thy mother's son.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Almighty God! I am undone!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+I'm dying--'tis a soon-told tale,
+And sooner done the deed.
+Why, women, do ye howl and wail?
+To my last words give heed!
+
+[_All gather round him._]
+
+My Gretchen, see! still young art thou,
+Art not discreet enough, I trow,
+Thou dost thy matters ill;
+Let this in confidence be said:
+Since thou the path of shame dost tread,
+Tread it with right good will!
+
+MARGARET
+
+My brother! God! what can this mean?
+
+VALENTINE
+
+ Abstain,
+Nor dare God's holy name profane!
+What's done, alas, is done and past!
+Matters will take their course at last;
+By stealth thou dost begin with one,
+Others will follow him anon;
+And when a dozen thee have known,
+Thou'lt common be to all the town.
+When infamy is newly born,
+In secret she is brought to light,
+And the mysterious veil of night
+O'er head and ears is drawn;
+The loathsome birth men fain would slay;
+But soon, full grown, she waxes bold,
+And though not fairer to behold,
+With brazen front insults the day:
+The more abhorrent to the sight,
+The more she courts the day's pure light,
+The time already I discern,
+When thee all honest folk will spurn,
+And shun thy hated form to meet,
+As when a corpse infects the street.
+Thy heart will sink in blank despair,
+When they shall look thee in the face!
+A golden chain no more thou'lt wear!
+Nor near the altar take in church thy place!
+In fair lace collar simply dight
+Thou'lt dance no more with spirits light!
+In darksome corners thou wilt bide,
+Where beggars vile and cripples hide,
+And e'en though God thy crime forgive,
+On earth, a thing accursed, thou'lt live!
+
+MARTHA
+
+Your parting soul to God commend!
+Your dying breath in slander will you spend?
+
+VALENTINE
+
+Could I but reach thy wither'd frame,
+Thou wretched beldame, void of shame!
+Full measure I might hope to win
+Of pardon then for every sin.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Brother! what agonizing pain!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+I tell thee, from vain tears abstain!
+'Twas thy dishonor pierced my heart,
+Thy fall the fatal death-stab gave.
+Through the death-sleep I now depart
+To God, a soldier true and brave.
+
+[_Dies._]
+
+
+CATHEDRAL
+
+_Service, Organ, and Anthem._
+
+MARGARET _amongst a number of people_
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT _behind_ MARGARET
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+[Illustration: VALENTINE'S DEATH Franz Simm]
+
+How different, Gretchen, was it once with thee,
+When thou, still full of innocence,
+Here to the altar camest,
+And from the small and well-con'd book
+Didst lisp thy prayer,
+Half childish sport,
+Half God in thy young heart!
+Gretchen!
+What thoughts are thine?
+What deed of shame
+Lurks in thy sinful heart?
+Is thy prayer utter'd for thy mother's soul,
+Who into long, long torment slept through thee?
+Whose blood is on thy threshold?--
+And stirs there not already 'neath thy heart
+Another quick'ning pulse, that even now
+Tortures itself and thee
+With its foreboding presence?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Woe! Woe!
+Oh, could I free me from the thoughts
+That hither, thither, crowd upon my brain,
+Against my will!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Dies irae, dies illa,
+ Solvet sæclum in favilla._
+
+[_The organ sounds._]
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+ Grim horror seizes thee!
+ The trumpet sounds!
+ The graves are shaken!
+ And thy heart
+ From ashy rest
+ For torturing flames
+ Anew created,
+ Trembles into life!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Would I were hence!
+ It is as if the organ
+ Choked my breath,
+ As if the choir
+ Melted my inmost heart!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Judex ergo cum sedebit,
+ Quidquid latet adparebit,
+ Nil inultum remanebit._
+
+MARGARET
+
+ I feel oppressed!
+ The pillars of the wall
+ Imprison me!
+ The vaulted roof
+ Weighs down upon me!--air!
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+ Wouldst hide thee? sin and shame
+ Remain not hidden!
+ Air! light!
+ Woe's thee!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
+ Quem patronum rogaturus!
+ Cum vix justus sit securus._
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+ The glorified their faces turn
+ Away from thee!
+ Shudder the pure to reach
+ Their hands to thee!
+ Woe!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Quid sum miser tunc dicturus_--
+
+MARGARET
+
+Neighbor! your smelling bottle!
+
+[_She swoons away._]
+
+[Illustration: MARGARET'S DOWNFALL _From the Painting by Wilhelm von
+Kaulbach_]
+
+
+WALPURGIS-NIGHT
+
+THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. DISTRICT OF
+SCHIERKE AND ELEND
+
+FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A broomstick dost thou not at least desire?
+The roughest he-goat fain would I bestride,
+By this road from our goal we're still far wide.
+
+FAUST
+
+While fresh upon my legs, so long I naught require,
+Except this knotty staff. Beside,
+What boots it to abridge a pleasant way?
+Along the labyrinth of these vales to creep,
+Then scale these rocks, whence, in eternal spray,
+Adown the cliffs the silvery fountains leap:
+Such is the joy that seasons paths like these!
+Spring weaves already in the birchen trees;
+E'en the late pine-grove feels her quickening powers;
+Should she not work within these limbs of ours?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Naught of this genial influence do I know!
+Within me all is wintry. Frost and snow
+I should prefer my dismal path to bound.
+How sadly, yonder, with belated glow
+Rises the ruddy moon's imperfect round,
+Shedding so faint a light, at every tread
+One's sure to stumble 'gainst a rock or tree!
+An Ignis Fatuus I must call instead.
+Yonder one burning merrily, I see.
+Holla! my friend! may I request your light?
+Why should you flare away so uselessly?
+Be kind enough to show us up the height!
+
+IGNIS FATUUS
+
+Through reverence, I hope I may subdue
+The lightness of my nature; true,
+Our course is but a zigzag one.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Ho! ho!
+So men, forsooth, he thinks to imitate!
+Now, in the devil's name, for once go straight!
+Or out at once your flickering life I'll blow.
+
+IGNIS FATUUS
+
+That you are master here is obvious quite;
+To do your will, I'll cordially essay;
+Only reflect! The hill is magic-mad tonight;
+And if to show the path you choose a meteor's light,
+You must not wonder should we go astray.
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, IGNIS FATUUS (_in alternate song_)
+
+ Through the dream and magic-sphere,
+ As it seems, we now are speeding;
+ Honor win, us rightly leading,
+ That betimes we may appear
+ In yon wide and desert region!
+
+ Trees on trees, a stalwart legion,
+ Swiftly past us are retreating,
+ And the cliffs with lowly greeting;
+ Rocks long-snouted, row on row,
+ How they snort, and how they blow!
+
+ Through the stones and heather springing,
+ Brook and brooklet haste below;
+ Hark the rustling! Hark the singing!
+ Hearken to love's plaintive lays;
+ Voices of those heavenly days--
+ What we hope, and what we love!
+ Like a tale of olden time,
+ Echo's voice prolongs the chime.
+ To-whit! To-who! It sounds more near;
+ Plover, owl, and jay appear,
+ All awake, around, above?
+ Paunchy salamanders too
+ Peer, long-limbed, the bushes through!
+ And, like snakes, the roots of trees
+ Coil themselves from rock and sand,
+ Stretching many a wondrous band,
+ Us to frighten, us to seize;
+ From rude knots with life embued,
+ Polyp-fangs abroad they spread,
+ To snare the wanderer! 'Neath our tread,
+ Mice, in myriads, thousand-hued,
+ Through the heath and through the moss!
+ And the fire-flies' glittering throng,
+ Wildering escort, whirls along,
+ Here and there, our path across.
+
+ Tell me, stand we motionless,
+ Or still forward do we press?
+ All things round us whirl and fly,
+ Rocks and trees make strange grimaces,
+ Dazzling meteors change their places--
+ How they puff and multiply!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now grasp my doublet--we at last
+A central peak have reached, which shows,
+If round a wondering glance we cast,
+How in the mountain Mammon glows.
+
+FAUST
+
+How through the chasms strangely gleams,
+A lurid light, like dawn's red glow,
+Pervading with its quivering beams,
+The gorges of the gulf below!
+Here vapors rise, there clouds float by,
+Here through the mist the light doth shine;
+Now, like a fount, it bursts on high,
+Meanders now, a slender line;
+Far reaching, with a hundred veins,
+Here through the valley see it glide;
+Here, where its force the gorge restrains,
+At once it scatters, far and wide;
+Anear, like showers of golden sand
+Strewn broadcast, sputter sparks of light:
+And mark yon rocky walls that stand
+Ablaze, in all their towering height!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Doth not Sir Mammon for this fête
+Grandly illume his palace! Thou
+Art lucky to have seen it; now,
+The boisterous guests, I feel, are coming straight.
+
+FAUST
+
+How through the air the storm doth whirl!
+Upon my neck it strikes with sudden shock.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Cling to these ancient ribs of granite rock,
+Else to yon depths profound it you will hurl.
+A murky vapor thickens night.
+Hark! Through the woods the tempests roar!
+The owlets flit in wild affright.
+Hark! Splinter'd are the columns that upbore
+The leafy palace, green for aye:
+The shivered branches whirr and sigh,
+Yawn the huge trunks with mighty groan,
+The roots, upriven, creak and moan!
+In fearful and entangled fall,
+One crashing ruin whelms them all,
+While through the desolate abyss,
+Sweeping the wreck-strewn precipice,
+The raging storm-blasts howl and hiss!
+Aloft strange voices dost thou hear?
+Distant now and now more near?
+Hark! the mountain ridge along,
+Streameth a raving magic-song!
+
+WITCHES (_in chorus_)
+
+ Now to the Brocken the witches hie,
+ The stubble is yellow, the corn is green;
+ Thither the gathering legions fly,
+ And sitting aloft is Sir Urian seen:
+ O'er stick and o'er stone they go whirling along,
+ Witches and he-goats, a motley throng.
+
+VOICES
+
+ Alone old Baubo's coming now;
+ She rides upon a farrow sow.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Honor to her, to whom honor is due!
+ Forward, Dame Baubo! Honor to you!
+ A goodly sow and mother thereon,
+ The whole witch chorus follows anon.
+
+VOICE
+
+Which way didst come?
+
+
+VOICE
+
+ O'er Ilsenstein!
+There I peep'd in an owlet's nest.
+With her broad eye she gazed in mine!
+
+VOICE
+
+Drive to the devil, thou hellish pest!
+Why ride so hard?
+
+VOICE
+
+ She has graz'd my side,
+Look at the wounds, how deep and how wide!
+
+WITCHES (_in chorus_)
+
+ The way is broad, the way is long;
+ What mad pursuit! What tumult wild!
+ Scratches the besom and sticks the prong;
+ Crush'd is the mother, and stifled the child.
+
+WIZARDS (_half chorus_)
+
+ Like house-encumber'd snail we creep;
+ While far ahead the women keep,
+ For when to the devil's house we speed,
+ By a thousand steps they take the lead.
+
+THE OTHER HALF
+
+ Not so, precisely do we view it;
+ They with a thousand steps may do it;
+ But let them hasten as they can,
+ With one long bound 'tis clear'd by man.
+
+VOICES (_above_)
+
+Come with us, come with us from Felsensee.
+
+VOICES (_from below_)
+
+Aloft to you we would mount with glee!
+We wash, and free from all stain are we,
+Yet barren evermore must be!
+
+BOTH CHORUSES
+
+ The wind is hushed, the stars grow pale,
+ The pensive moon her light doth veil;
+ And whirling on, the magic choir
+ Sputters forth sparks of drizzling fire.
+
+VOICE (_from below_)
+
+Stay! stay!
+
+VOICE (_from above_)
+
+ What voice of woe
+Calls from the cavern'd depths below?
+
+VOICE (_from below_)
+
+Take me with you! Oh take me too!
+Three centuries I climb in vain,
+And yet can ne'er the summit gain!
+To be with my kindred I am fain.
+
+BOTH CHORUSES
+
+ Broom and pitch-fork, goat and prong,
+ Mounted on these we whirl along;
+ Who vainly strives to climb tonight,
+ Is evermore a luckless wight!
+
+DEMI-WITCH (_below_)
+
+I hobble after, many a day;
+Already the others are far away!
+No rest at home can I obtain--
+Here too my efforts are in vain!
+
+CHORUS OF WITCHES
+
+ Salve gives the witches strength to rise;
+ A rag for a sail does well enough;
+ A goodly ship is every trough;
+ Tonight who flies not, never flies.
+
+BOTH CHORUSES
+
+ And when the topmost peak we round,
+ Then alight ye on the ground;
+ The heath's wide regions cover ye
+ With your mad swarms of witchery!
+
+[_They let themselves down._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+They crowd and jostle, whirl and flutter!
+They whisper, babble, twirl, and splutter!
+They glimmer, sparkle, stink and flare--
+A true witch-element! Beware!
+Stick close! else we shall severed be.
+Where art thou?
+
+FAUST (_in the distance_)
+
+ Here!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Already, whirl'd so far away!
+The master then indeed I needs must play.
+Give ground! Squire Voland comes! Sweet folk, give ground!
+Here, doctor, grasp me! With a single bound
+Let us escape this ceaseless jar;
+Even for me too mad these people are.
+Hard by there shineth something with peculiar glare,
+Yon brake allureth me; it is not far;
+Come, come along with me! we'll slip in there.
+
+FAUST
+
+Spirit of contradiction! Lead! I'll follow straight!
+'Twas wisely done, however, to repair
+On May-night to the Brocken, and when there,
+By our own choice ourselves to isolate!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Mark, of those flames the motley glare!
+A merry club assembles there.
+In a small circle one is not alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+I'd rather be above, though, I must own!
+Already fire and eddying smoke I view;
+The impetuous millions to the devil ride;
+Full many a riddle will be there untied.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay! and full many a riddle tied anew.
+But let the great world rave and riot!
+Here will we house ourselves in quiet.
+A custom 'tis of ancient date,
+Our lesser worlds within the great world to create!
+Young witches there I see, naked and bare,
+And old ones, veil'd more prudently.
+For my sake only courteous be!
+The trouble small, the sport is rare.
+Of instruments I hear the cursed din--
+One must get used to it. Come in! come in!
+There's now no help for it. I'll step before,
+And introducing you as my good friend,
+Confer on you one obligation more.
+How say you now? 'Tis no such paltry room;
+Why only look, you scarce can see the end.
+A hundred fires in rows disperse the gloom;
+They dance, they talk, they cook, make love, and drink:
+Where could we find aught better, do you think?
+
+FAUST
+
+To introduce us, do you purpose here
+As devil or as wizard to appear?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Though I am wont indeed to strict incognito,
+Yet upon gala-days one must one's orders show.
+No garter have I to distinguish me,
+Nathless the cloven foot doth here give dignity.
+Seest thou yonder snail? Crawling this way she hies;
+With searching feelers, she, no doubt,
+Hath me already scented out;
+Here, even if I would, for me there's no disguise.
+From fire to fire, we'll saunter at our leisure,
+The gallant you, I'll cater for your pleasure.
+
+(_To a party seated round, some expiring embers_)
+
+Old gentleman, apart, why sit ye moping here?
+Ye in the midst should be of all this jovial cheer,
+Girt round with noise and youthful riot;
+At home one surely has enough of quiet.
+
+GENERAL
+
+In nations put his trust, who may,
+Whate'er for them one may have done;
+For with the people, as with women, they
+Honor your rising stars alone!
+
+MINISTER
+
+Now all too far they wander from the right;
+I praise the good old ways, to them I hold,
+Then was the genuine age of gold,
+When we ourselves were foremost in men's sight.
+
+PARVENU
+
+Ne'er were we 'mong your dullards found,
+And what we ought not, that to do were fair;
+Yet now are all things turning round and round,
+When on firm basis we would them maintain.
+
+AUTHOR
+
+Who, as a rule, a treatise now would care
+To read, of even moderate sense?
+As for the rising generation, ne'er
+Has youth displayed such arrogant pretense.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_suddenly appearing very old_)
+
+Since for the last time I the Brocken scale,
+That folk are ripe for doomsday, now one sees;
+And just because my cask begins to fail,
+So the whole world is also on the lees.
+
+HUCKSTER-WITCH
+
+Stop, gentlemen, nor pass me by,
+Of wares I have a choice collection:
+Pray honor them with your inspection.
+Lose not this opportunity!
+Yet nothing in my booth you'll find
+Without its counterpart on earth; there's naught,
+Which to the world, and to mankind,
+Hath not some direful mischief wrought.
+No dagger here, which hath not flow'd with blood,
+No chalice, whence, into some healthy frame
+Hath not been poured hot poison's wasting flood.
+No trinket, but hath wrought some woman's shame,
+No weapon but hath cut some sacred tie,
+Or from behind hath stabb'd an enemy.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gossip! For wares like these the time's gone by,
+What's done is past! what's past is done!
+With novelties your booth supply;
+Us novelties attract alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+May this wild scene my senses spare!
+This, may in truth be called a fair!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Upward the eddying concourse throng;
+Thinking to push, thyself art push'd along.
+
+FAUST
+
+Who's that, pray?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Mark her well! That's Lilith.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Who?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Adam's first wife. Of her rich locks beware!
+That charm in which she's parallel'd by few,
+When in its toils a youth she doth ensnare
+He will not soon escape, I promise you.
+
+FAUST
+
+There sit a pair, the old one with the young;
+Already they have bravely danced and sprung!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Here there is no repose today.
+Another dance begins; we'll join it, come away!
+
+FAUST (_dancing with the young one_)
+
+ Once a fair vision came to me;
+ Therein I saw an apple-tree,
+ Two beauteous apples charmed mine eyes;
+ I climb'd forthwith to reach the prize.
+
+THE FAIR ONE
+
+ Apples still fondly ye desire,
+ From paradise it hath been so.
+ Feelings of joy my breast inspire
+ That such too in my garden grow.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_with the old one_)
+
+ Once a weird vision came to me;
+ Therein I saw a rifted tree.
+ It had a.....;
+ But as it was it pleased me too.
+
+THE OLD ONE
+
+ I beg most humbly to salute
+ The gallant with the cloven foot!
+ Let him ... have ready here,
+ If he a ... does not fear.
+
+PROCTOPHANTASMIST
+
+Accursed mob! How dare ye thus to meet?
+Have I not shown and demonstrated too,
+That ghosts stand not on ordinary feet?
+Yet here ye dance, as other mortals do!
+
+THE FAIR ONE (_dancing_)
+
+Then at our ball, what doth he here?
+
+FAUST (_dancing_)
+
+Oh! He must everywhere appear.
+He must adjudge, when others dance;
+If on each step his say's not said,
+So is that step as good as never made.
+He's most annoyed, so soon as we advance;
+If ye would circle in one narrow round.
+As he in his old mill, then doubtless he
+Your dancing would approve,--especially
+If ye forthwith salute him with respect profound!
+
+PROCTOPHANTASMIST
+
+Still here! what arrogance! unheard of quite!
+Vanish; we now have fill'd the world with light!
+Laws are unheeded by the devil's host;
+Wise as we are, yet Tegel hath its ghost!
+How long at this conceit I've swept with all my might,
+Lost is the labor: 'tis unheard of quite!
+
+THE FAIR ONE
+
+Cease here to tease us any more, I pray.
+
+PROCTOPHANTASMIST
+
+Spirits, I plainly to your face declare:
+No spiritual control myself will bear,
+Since my own spirit can exert no sway.
+
+[_The dancing continues._]
+
+Tonight, I see, I shall in naught succeed;
+But I'm prepar'd my travels to pursue,
+And hope, before my final step indeed,
+To triumph over bards and devils too.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now in some puddle will he take his station,
+Such is his mode of seeking consolation;
+Where leeches, feasting on his rump, will drain
+Spirits alike and spirit from his brain.
+
+(_To_ FAUST, _who has left the dance_)
+
+But why the charming damsel leave, I pray,
+Who to you in the dance so sweetly sang?
+
+FAUST
+
+Ah! in the very middle of her lay,
+Out of her mouth a small red mouse there sprang.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Suppose there did! One must not be too nice.
+'Twas well it was not gray, let that suffice.
+Who 'mid his pleasures for a trifle cares?
+
+FAUST
+
+Then saw I--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ What?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Mephisto, seest thou there
+Standing far off, a lone child, pale and fair!
+Slow from the spot her drooping form she tears,
+And seems with shackled feet to move along;
+I own, within me the delusion's strong,
+That she the likeness of my Gretchen wears.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gaze not upon her! 'Tis not good! Forbear!
+'Tis lifeless, magical, a shape of air,
+An idol. Such to meet with, bodes no good;
+That rigid look of hers doth freeze man's blood,
+And well-nigh petrifies his heart to stone:--
+The story of Medusa thou hast known.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay, verily! a corpse's eyes are those,
+Which there was no fond loving hand to close.
+That is the bosom I so fondly press'd,
+That my sweet Gretchen's form, so oft caress'd!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Deluded fool! 'Tis magic, I declare!
+To each she doth his lov'd one's image wear.
+
+FAUST
+
+What bliss! what torture! vainly I essay
+To turn me from that piteous look away.
+How strangely doth a single crimson line
+Around that lovely neck its coil entwine,
+It shows no broader than a knife's blunt edge!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Quite right. I see it also, and allege
+That she beneath her arm her head can bear,
+Since Perseus cut it off.--But you I swear
+Are craving for illusions still!
+Come then, ascend yon little hill!
+As on the Prater all is gay,
+And if my senses are not gone,
+I see a theatre,--what's going on?
+
+SERVIBILIS
+
+They are about to recommence;--the play,
+Will be the last of seven, and spick-span new--
+'Tis usual here that number to present.
+A dilettante did the piece invent,
+And dilettanti will enact it too.
+Excuse me, gentlemen; to me's assign'd,
+As dilettante to uplift the curtain.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You on the Blocksberg I'm rejoiced to find,
+That 'tis your most appropriate sphere is certain.
+
+WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM; OR, OBERON AND
+TITANIA'S GOLDEN WEDDING-FEAST
+
+
+INTERMEZZO
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THEATRE
+
+
+MANAGER
+
+  Vales, where mists still shift and play,
+   To ancient hill succeeding,--
+  These our scenes;--so we, today,
+   May rest, brave sons of Mieding.
+
+  HERALD
+
+  That the marriage golden be,
+   Must fifty years be ended;
+  More dear this feast of gold to me,
+   Contention now suspended.
+
+  OBERON
+
+  Spirits, if present, grace the scene,
+   And if with me united,
+  Then gratulate the king and queen,
+   Their troth thus newly plighted!
+
+  PUCK
+
+  Puck draws near and wheels about,
+   In mazy circles dancing!
+  Hundreds swell his joyous shout,
+   Behind him still advancing.
+
+  ARIEL
+
+  Ariel wakes his dainty air,
+   His lyre celestial stringing.--
+  Fools he lureth, and the fair,
+   With his celestial singing.
+
+  OBERON
+
+  Wedded ones, would ye agree,
+   We court your imitation:
+  Would ye fondly love as we,
+   We counsel separation.
+
+  TITANIA
+
+  If husband scold and wife retort,
+   Then bear them far asunder;
+  Her to the burning south transport,
+   And him the North Pole under.
+
+  THE WHOLE ORCHESTRA (_fortissimo_)
+
+  Flies and midges all unite
+   With frog and chirping cricket,
+  Our orchestra throughout the night,
+   Resounding in the thicket!
+
+  (_Solo_)
+
+  Yonder doth the bagpipe come!
+   Its sack an airy bubble.
+  Schnick, schnick, schnack, with nasal hum,
+   Its notes it doth redouble.
+
+  EMBRYO SPIRIT
+
+  Spider's foot and midge's wing,
+   A toad in form and feature;
+  Together verses it can string,
+   Though scarce a living creature.
+
+  A LITTLE PAIR
+
+  Tiny step and lofty bound,
+   Through dew and exhalation;
+  Ye trip it deftly on the ground,
+   But gain no elevation.
+
+  INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER
+
+  Can I indeed believe my eyes?
+   Is't not mere masquerading?
+  What! Oberon in beauteous guise,
+   Among the groups parading!
+
+  ORTHODOX
+
+  No claws, no tail to whisk about,
+   To fright us at our revel;
+  Yet like the gods of Greece, no doubt,
+   He too's a genuine devil.
+
+  NORTHERN ARTIST
+
+  These that I'm hitting off today
+   Are sketches unpretending;
+  Toward Italy without delay,
+   My steps I think of bending.
+
+  PURIST
+
+  Alas! ill-fortune leads me here,
+   Where riot still grows louder;
+  And 'mong the witches gather'd here,
+   But two alone wear powder!
+
+  YOUNG WITCH
+
+  Your powder and your petticoat,
+   Suit hags, there's no gainsaying;
+  Hence I sit fearless on my goat,
+   My naked charms displaying.
+
+  MATRON
+
+  We're too well-bred to squabble here,
+   Or insult back to render;
+  But may you wither soon, my dear,
+   Although so young and tender.
+
+  LEADER OF THE BAND
+
+  Nose of fly and gnat's proboscis,
+   Throng not the naked beauty!
+  Frogs and crickets in the mosses,
+   Keep time and do your duty!
+
+  WEATHERCOCK (_toward one side_)
+
+  What charming company I view
+   Together here collected!
+  Gay bachelors, a hopeful crew,
+   And brides so unaffected!
+
+  WEATHERCOCK (_toward the other side_)
+
+  Unless indeed the yawning ground
+   Should open to receive them,
+  From this vile crew, with sudden bound,
+   To Hell I'd jump and leave them.
+
+  XENIEN
+
+  With small sharp shears, in insect guise,
+   Behold us at your revel!
+  That we may tender, filial-wise,
+   Our homage to the devil.
+
+
+  HENNINGS
+
+  Look now at yonder eager crew,
+   How naïvely they're jesting!
+  That they have tender hearts and true,
+   They stoutly keep protesting!
+
+
+  MUSAGET
+
+  Oneself amid this witchery
+   How pleasantly one loses;
+  For witches easier are to me
+   To govern than the Muses!
+
+
+  CI-DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE
+
+  With proper folks when we appear,
+   No one can then surpass us!
+  Keep close, wide is the Blocksberg here
+   As Germany's Parnassus.
+
+  INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER
+
+  How name ye that stiff formal man,
+   Who strides with lofty paces?
+  He tracks the game where'er he can,
+   "He scents the Jesuits' traces."
+
+  CRANE
+
+  Where waters troubled are or clear,
+   To fish I am delighted;
+  Thus pious gentlemen appear
+   With devils here united.
+
+  WORLDLING
+
+  By pious people, it is true,
+   No medium is rejected;
+  Conventicles, and not a few,
+   On Blocksberg are erected.
+
+  DANCER
+
+  Another chorus now succeeds,
+   Far off the drums are beating.
+  Be still! The bitterns 'mong the reeds
+   Their one note are repeating.
+
+  DANCING MASTER
+
+  Each twirls about and never stops,
+   And as he can he fareth.
+  The crooked leaps, the clumsy hops,
+   Nor for appearance careth.
+
+  FIDDLER
+
+  To take each other's life, I trow,
+   Would cordially delight them!
+  As Orpheus' lyre the beasts, so now
+   The bagpipe doth unite them.
+
+  DOGMATIST
+
+  My views, in spite of doubt and sneer,
+   I hold with stout persistence,
+  Inferring from the devils here,
+   The evil one's existence.
+
+  IDEALIST
+
+  My every sense rules Phantasy
+   With sway quite too potential;
+  Sure I'm demented if the _I_
+   Alone is the essential.
+
+  REALIST
+
+  This entity's a dreadful bore,
+   And cannot choose but vex me;
+  The ground beneath me ne'er before
+   Thus totter'd to perplex me.
+
+  SUPERNATURALIST
+
+  Well pleased assembled here I view
+   Of spirits this profusion;
+  From devils, touching angels too,
+   I gather some conclusion.
+
+  SCEPTIC
+
+  The ignis fatuus they track out,
+   And think they're near the treasure.
+  Devil alliterates with doubt,
+   Here I abide with pleasure.
+
+  LEADER OF THE BAND
+
+  Frog and cricket in the mosses,--
+  Confound your gasconading!
+  Nose of fly and gnat's proboscis;--
+  Most tuneful serenading!
+
+  THE KNOWING ONES
+
+  Sans souci, so this host we greet,
+   Their jovial humor showing;
+  There's now no walking on our feet,
+   So on our heads we're going.
+
+  THE AWKWARD ONES
+
+  In seasons past we snatch'd, 'tis true,
+   Some tit-bits by our cunning;
+  Our shoes, alas, are now danced through,
+   On our bare soles we're running.
+
+  WILL-O'-THE-WISPS
+
+  From marshy bogs we sprang to light,
+   Yet here behold us dancing;
+  The gayest gallants of the night,
+   In glitt'ring rows advancing.
+
+  SHOOTING STAR
+
+  With rapid motion from on high,
+   I shot in starry splendor;
+  Now prostrate on the grass I lie;--
+   Who aid will kindly render?
+
+  THE MASSIVE ONES
+
+  Room! wheel round! They're coming! lo!
+   Down sink the bending grasses.
+  Though spirits, yet their limbs, we know,
+   Are huge substantial masses.
+
+   PUCK
+
+  Don't stamp so heavily, I pray;
+   Like elephants you're treading!
+  And 'mong the elves be Puck today,
+   The stoutest at the wedding!
+
+  ARIEL
+
+  If nature boon, or subtle sprite,
+   Endow your soul with pinions;--
+  Then follow to you rosy height,
+   Through ether's calm dominions!
+
+  ORCHESTRA (_pianissimo_)
+
+  Drifting cloud and misty wreathes
+   Are fill'd with light elysian;
+  O'er reed and leaf the zephyr breathes--
+   So fades the fairy vision!
+
+
+A GLOOMY DAY. A PLAIN
+
+FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+
+FAUST
+
+In misery! despairing! long wandering pitifully on the face of the
+earth and now imprisoned! This gentle hapless creature, immured in the
+dungeon as a malefactor and reserved for horrid tortures! That it
+should come to this! To this!--Perfidious, worthless spirit, and this
+thou hast concealed from me!--Stand! ay, stand! roll in malicious rage
+thy fiendish eyes! Stand and brave me with thine insupportable
+presence! Imprisoned! In hopeless misery! Delivered over to the power
+of evil spirits and the judgment of unpitying humanity!--And me, the
+while, thou went lulling with tasteless dissipations, concealing from
+me her growing anguish, and leaving her to perish without help!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+She is not the first.
+
+FAUST
+
+Hound! Execrable monster!--Back with him, oh thou infinite spirit!
+back with the reptile into his dog's shape, in which it was his wont
+to scamper before me at eventide, to roll before the feet of the
+harmless wanderer, and to fasten on his shoulders when he fell! Change
+him again into his favorite shape, that he may crouch on his belly
+before me in the dust, whilst I spurn him with my foot, the
+reprobate!--Not the first!--Woe! Woe! By no human soul is it
+conceivable, that more than one human creature has ever sunk into a
+depth of wretchedness like this, or that the first in her writhing
+death-agony should not have atoned in the sight of all-pardoning
+Heaven for the guilt of all the rest! The misery of this one pierces
+me to the very marrow, and harrows up my soul; thou art grinning
+calmly over the doom of thousands!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now we are once again at our wit's end, just where the reason of you
+mortals snaps! Why dost thou seek our fellowship, if thou canst not go
+through with it? Wilt fly, and art not proof against dizziness? Did we
+force ourselves on thee, or thou on us?
+
+FAUST
+
+Cease thus to gnash thy ravenous fangs at me! I loathe thee!--Great
+and glorious spirit, thou who didst vouchsafe to reveal thyself unto
+me, thou who dost know my very heart and soul, why hast thou linked me
+with this base associate, who feeds on mischief and revels in
+destruction?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Hast done?
+
+FAUST
+
+Save her!--or woe to thee! The direst of curses on thee for thousands
+of years!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I cannot loose the bands of the avenger, nor withdraw his bolts.--Save
+her!--Who was it plunged her into perdition? I or thou?
+
+FAUST (_looks wildly around_)
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Would'st grasp the thunder? Well for you, poor mortals, that 'tis not
+yours to wield! To smite to atoms the being, however innocent, who
+obstructs his path, such is the tyrant's fashion of relieving himself
+in difficulties!
+
+FAUST
+
+Convey me thither! She shall be free!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And the danger to which thou dost expose thyself? Know, the guilt of
+blood, shed by thy hand, lies yet upon the town. Over the place where
+fell the murdered one, avenging spirits hover and watch for the
+returning murderer.
+
+FAUST
+
+This too from thee? The death and downfall of a world be on thee,
+monster! Conduct me thither, I say and set her free!
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I will conduct thee. And what I can do,--hear! Have I all power in
+heaven and upon earth? I'll cloud the senses of the warder,--do thou
+possess thyself of the keys and lead her forth with human hand! I will
+keep watch! The magic steeds are waiting, I bear thee off. Thus much
+is in my power.
+
+FAUST
+
+Up and away!
+
+
+NIGHT. OPEN COUNTRY
+
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+(_Rushing along on black horses_)
+
+FAUST
+
+What weave they yonder round the Ravenstone?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I know not what they shape and brew.
+
+FAUST
+
+They're soaring, swooping, bending, stooping.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A witches' pack.
+
+FAUST
+
+ They charm, they strew.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+               On! On!
+
+
+DUNGEON
+
+FAUST (_with a bunch of keys and a lamp before a small iron door_)
+
+A fear unwonted o'er my spirit falls;
+Man's concentrated woe o'erwhelms me here!
+She dwells immur'd within these dripping walls;
+Her only trespass a delusion dear!
+Thou lingerest at the fatal door?
+Thou dread'st to see her face once more?
+On! While thou dalliest, draws her death-hour near.
+
+[_He seizes the lock. Singing within._]
+
+ My mother, the harlot,
+ She took me and slew!
+ My father, the scoundrel,
+ Hath eaten me too!
+ My sweet little sister
+ Hath all my bones laid,
+ Where soft breezes whisper
+ All in the cool shade!
+ Then became I a wood-bird, and sang on the spray,
+ Fly away! little bird, fly away! fly away!
+
+FAUST (_opening the lock_)
+
+Ah! she forebodes not that her lover's near,
+The clanking chains, the rustling straw, to hear.
+                              [_He enters._]
+
+MARGARET (_hiding her face in the bed of straw_)
+
+Woe! woe! they come! oh bitter 'tis to die!
+
+FAUST (_Softly_)
+
+Hush! hush! be still! I come to set thee free.
+
+MARGARET (_throwing herself at his feet_)
+
+If thou art human, feel my misery!
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou wilt awake the jailer with thy cry!
+
+[_He grasps the chains to unlock them._]
+
+MARGARET (_on her knees_)
+
+Who, headsman, unto thee this power
+O'er me could give?
+Thou com'st for me at midnight-hour.
+Be merciful, and let me live!
+Is morrow's dawn not time enough?
+                   [_She stands up._]
+
+I'm still so young, so young--
+And must so early die!
+Fair was I too, and that was my undoing.
+My love is now afar, he then was nigh;
+Tom lies the garland, the fair blossoms strew'd.
+Nay, seize me not with hand so rude!
+Spare me! What harm have I e'er done to thee?
+Oh let me not in vain implore!
+I ne'er have seen thee in my life before!
+
+FAUST
+
+Can I endure this bitter agony?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I now am at thy mercy quite.
+Let me my babe but suckle once again!
+I fondled it the live-long night;
+They took it from me but to give me pain,
+And now, they say that I my child have slain.
+Gladness I ne'er again shall know.
+Then they sing songs about me,--'tis wicked of the throng--
+An ancient ballad endeth so;
+Who bade them thus apply the song?
+
+FAUST (_throwing himself on the ground_)
+
+A lover at thy feet bends low,
+To loose the bonds of wretchedness and woe.
+
+MARGARET (_throws herself beside him_)
+
+Oh, let us kneel and move the saints by prayer!
+Look! look! yon stairs below,
+Under the threshold there,
+Hell's flames are all aglow!
+Beneath the floor,
+With hideous noise,
+The devils roar!
+
+FAUST (_aloud_)
+
+Gretchen! Gretchen!
+
+MARGARET (_listening_)
+
+That was my lov'd one's voice!
+
+[_She springs up, the chains fall off_.]
+
+Where is he? I heard him calling me.
+Free am I! There's none shall hinder me.
+To his neck will I fly,
+On his bosom will lie!
+Gretchen, he called!--On yon threshold he stood;
+Amidst all the howling of hell's fiery flood,
+The scoff and the scorn of its devilish crew,
+The tones of his voice, sweet and loving, I knew.
+
+FAUST
+
+'Tis I!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ 'Tis thou! O say so once again!
+                                    [_embracing him_.]
+'Tis he! 'Tis he! where's now the torturing pain?
+Where are the fetters? where the dungeon's gloom?
+'Tis thou! To save me thou art come!
+And I am sav'd!--
+Already now the street I see
+Where the first time I caught a glimpse of thee.
+There to the pleasant garden shade,
+Where I and Martha for thy coming stay'd.
+
+FAUST (_endeavoring to lead her away_)
+
+Come! come away!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Oh do not haste!
+I love to linger where thou stayest. [_caressing him_.]
+
+FAUST
+
+Ah haste! For if thou still delayest,
+Our lingering we shall both deplore.
+
+MARGARET
+
+How, dearest? canst thou kiss no more!
+So short a time away from me, and yet,
+To kiss thou couldst so soon forget!
+Why on thy neck so anxious do I feel--
+When formerly a perfect heaven of bliss
+From thy dear looks and words would o'er me steal?
+As thou wouldst stifle me thou then didst kiss!--
+Kiss me!
+Or I'll kiss thee!    [_She embraces him._]
+Woe! woe! Thy lips are cold,--
+Are dumb!
+Thy love where hast thou left?
+Who hath me of thy love bereft?
+
+[_She turns away from him._]
+
+FAUST
+
+Come! Follow me, my dearest love, be bold!
+I'll cherish thee with ardor thousand-fold;
+I but entreat thee now to follow me!
+
+MARGARET (_turning toward him_)
+
+And art thou he? and art thou really he?
+
+FAUST
+
+'Tis I! Oh come!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Thou wilt strike off my chain,
+And thou wilt take me to thine arms again.
+How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?--
+And dost thou know, love, whom thou wouldst set free?
+
+FAUST
+
+Come! come! already night begins to wane.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I sent my mother to her grave,
+I drown'd my child beneath the wave.
+Was it not given to thee and me--thee too?
+'Tis thou thyself! I scarce believe it yet.
+Give me thy hand! It is no dream! 'Tis true!
+Thine own dear hand!--But how is this? 'Tis wet!
+Quick, wipe it off! Meseems that yet
+There's blood thereon.
+Ah God! what hast thou done?
+Put up thy sword,
+I beg of thee!
+
+FAUST
+
+Oh, dearest, let the past forgotten be!
+Death is in every word.
+
+MARGARET
+
+No, thou must linger here in sorrow!
+The graves I will describe to thee,
+And thou to them must see
+Tomorrow:
+The best place give to my mother,
+Close at her side my brother,
+Me at some distance lay--
+But not too far away!
+And the little one place on my right breast.
+Nobody else will near me lie!
+To nestle beside thee so lovingly,
+That was a rapture, gracious and sweet!
+A rapture I never again shall prove;
+Methinks I would force myself on thee, love,
+And thou dost spurn me, and back retreat--
+Yet 'tis thyself, thy fond kind looks I see.
+
+FAUST
+
+If thou dost feel 'tis I, then come with me!
+
+MARGARET
+
+What, there? without?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Yes, forth in the free air.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Ay, if the grave's without,--If death lurk there!
+Hence to the everlasting resting-place,
+And not one step beyond!--Thou'rt leaving me?
+Oh Henry! would that I could go with thee!
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou canst! But will it! Open stands the door.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I dare not go! I've naught to hope for more.
+What boots it to escape? They lurk for me!
+'Tis wretched to beg, as I must do,
+And with an evil conscience thereto!
+'Tis wretched, in foreign lands to stray;
+And me they will catch, do what I may!
+
+FAUST
+
+With thee will I abide.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Quick! Quick!
+ Save thy poor child!
+ Keep to the path
+ The brook along,
+ Over the bridge
+ To the wood beyond,
+ To the left, where the plank is,
+ In the pond.
+ Seize it at once!
+ It fain would rise,
+ It struggles still!
+ Save it. Oh save!
+
+FAUST
+
+Dear Gretchen, more collected be!
+One little step, and thou art free!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Were we but only past the hill
+There sits my mother upon a stone--
+My brain, alas, is cold with dread!--
+There sits my mother upon a stone,
+And to and fro she shakes her head;
+She winks not, she nods not, her head it droops sore;
+She slept so long, she waked no more;
+She slept, that we might taste of bliss:
+Ah I those were happy times, I wis!
+
+FAUST
+
+Since here avails nor argument nor prayer,
+Thee hence by force I needs must bear.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Loose me! I will not suffer violence!
+With murderous hand hold not so fast!
+I have done all to please thee in the past!
+
+FAUST
+
+Day dawns! My love! My love!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Yes! day draws near,
+The day of judgment too will soon appear!
+It should have been my bridal! No one tell,
+That thy poor Gretchen thou hast known too well.
+Woe to my garland!
+Its bloom is o'er!
+Though not at the dance--
+We shall meet once more.
+The crowd doth gather, in silence it rolls;
+The squares, the streets,
+Scarce hold the throng.
+The staff is broken,--the death-bell tolls,--
+They bind and seize me! I'm hurried along,
+To the seat of blood already I'm bound!
+Quivers each neck as the naked steel
+Quivers on mine the blow to deal--
+The silence of the grave now broods around!
+
+FAUST
+
+Would I had ne'er been born!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_appears without_)
+
+Up! or you're lost.
+Vain hesitation! Babbling, quaking!
+My steeds are shivering,
+Morn is breaking.
+
+MARGARET
+
+What from the floor ascendeth like a ghost?
+'Tis he! 'Tis he! Him from my presence chase!
+What would he in this holy place?
+It is for me he cometh!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Thou shalt live!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Judgment of God! To thee my soul I give!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Come, come! With her I'll else abandon thee!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Father, I'm thine! Do thou deliver me!
+Ye angels! Ye angelic hosts! descend,
+Encamp around to guard me and defend!--
+Henry! I shudder now to look on thee!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+She now is judged!
+
+VOICES (_from above_)
+
+ Is saved!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+ Come thou with me!
+
+[_vanishes with_ FAUST.]
+
+
+VOICE (_from within, dying away_)
+
+Henry! Henry!
+
+
+
+END OF PART I.
+
+
+
+FAUST--SELECTIONS FROM PART II (1832)
+
+ACT THE FIRST
+
+A PLEASING LANDSCAPE
+
+
+FAUST, _reclining upon flowery turf, restless, seeking sleep_
+
+TWILIGHT
+
+_Circle of spirits, hovering, flit around;--Graceful, tiny forms_.
+
+ARIEL
+
+ _Song, accompanied by Æolian harps_
+ When, in vernal showers descending,
+ Blossoms gently veil the earth,
+ When the fields' green wealth, up-tending,
+ Gleams on all of mortal birth;
+ Tiny elves, where help availeth,
+ Large of heart, there fly apace;
+ Pity they whom grief assaileth,
+ Be he holy, be he base.
+
+Ye round this head on airy wing careering,
+Attend, in noble Elfin guise appearing;
+Assuage the cruel strife that rends his heart,
+The burning shaft remove of keen remorse,
+From rankling horror cleanse his inmost part:
+Four are the pauses of the nightly course;
+Them, without rest, fill up with kindly art.
+And first his head upon cool pillow lay,
+Then bathe ye him in dew from Lethe's stream;
+His limbs, cramp-stiffen'd, will more freely play,
+If sleep-refreshed he wait morn's wakening beam.
+
+Perform the noblest Elfin-rite,
+Restore ye him to the holy light!
+
+CHORUS (_singly, two or more, alternately and together_)
+
+ Softly when warm gales are stealing
+ O'er the green-environed ground,
+ Twilight sheddeth all-concealing
+ Mists and balmy odors round:
+ Whispers low sweet peace to mortals,
+ Rocks the heart to childlike rest,
+ And of day-light shuts the portals
+ To these eyes, with care oppressed.
+ Night hath now descended darkling,
+ Holy star is linked to star;
+ Sovereign fires, or faintly sparkling,
+ Glitter near and shine afar;
+ Glitter here lake-mirror'd, yonder
+ Shine adown the clear night sky;
+ Sealing bliss of perfect slumber,
+ Reigns the moon's full majesty.
+
+ Now the hours are cancelled; sorrow,
+ Happiness, have passed away:
+ Whole thou shalt be on the morrow!
+ Feel it! Trust the new-born day!
+ Swell the hills, green grow the valleys,
+ In the dusk ere breaks the morn;
+ And in silvery wavelets dallies,
+ With the wind, the ripening corn.
+
+ Cherish hope, let naught appall thee!
+ Mark the East, with splendor dyed!
+ Slight the fetters that enthrall thee;
+ Fling the shell of sleep aside!
+ Gird thee for the high endeavor;
+ Shun the crowd's ignoble ease!
+ Fails the noble spirit never,
+ Wise to think, and prompt to seize.
+
+[_A tremendous tumult announces the uprising of the Sun._]
+
+ARIEL
+
+ Hark, the horal tempest nears,
+ Sounding but for spirit ears,
+ Lo! the new-born day appears;
+ Clang the rocky portals, climb
+ Phoebus' wheels with thund'rous chime:
+ Breaks with tuneful noise the light!
+ Blare of trumpet, clarion sounding,
+ Eye-sight dazing, ear astounding!
+ Hear not the unheard; take flight!
+ Into petaled blossoms glide
+ Deeper, deeper, still to bide,
+ In the clefts, 'neath thickets! ye,
+ If it strike you, deaf will be.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Life's pulses reawakened freshly bound,
+ The mild ethereal twilight fain to greet.
+ Thou, Earth, this night wast also constant found,
+ And, newly-quickened, breathing at my feet,
+ Beginnest now to gird me with delight;
+ A strong resolve dost rouse, with noble heat
+ Aye to press on to being's sovereign height.
+ The world in glimmering dawn still folded lies;
+ With thousand-voicèd life the woods resound;
+ Mist-wreaths the valley shroud; yet from the skies
+ Sinks heaven's clear radiance to the depths profound;
+ And bough and branch from dewy chasms rise,
+ Where they had drooped erewhile in slumber furled;
+ Earth is enamelled with unnumber'd dyes,
+ Leaflet and flower with dew-drops are impearled;
+ Around me everywhere is paradise.
+
+Gaze now aloft! Each mountain's giant height
+The solemn hour announces, herald-wise;
+They early may enjoy the eternal light,
+To us below which later finds its way.
+Now are the Alpine slopes and valleys dight
+With the clear radiance of the new-born day,
+Which, downward, step by step, steals on
+apace.--It blazes forth,--and, blinded by the ray,
+With aching eyes, alas! I veil my face.
+So when a hope, the heart hath long held fast,
+Trustful, still striving toward its highest goal,
+Fulfilment's portals open finds at
+last;--Sudden from those eternal depths doth roll
+An over-powering flame;--we stand aghast!
+The torch of life to kindle we were
+fain;--A fire-sea,--what a fire!--doth round us close;
+Love is it? Is it hate? with joy and pain,
+In alternation vast, that round us glows?
+So that to earth we turn our wistful gaze,
+In childhood's veil to shroud us once again!
+
+So let the sun behind me pour its rays!
+The cataract, through rocky cleft that roars,
+I view, with growing rapture and amaze.
+From fall to fall, with eddying shock, it pours,
+In thousand torrents to the depths below,
+Aloft in air up-tossing showers of spray.
+But see, in splendor bursting from the storm,
+Arches itself the many-colored bow,
+And ever-changeful, yet continuous form,
+Now drawn distinctly, melting now away,
+Diffusing dewy coolness all around!
+Man's efforts there are glassed, his toil and strife;
+Reflect, more true the emblem will be found:
+This bright reflected glory pictures life!
+
+
+IMPERIAL PALACE. THRONE-ROOM
+
+_Council of State, in expectation of the_ EMPEROR
+
+TRUMPETS
+
+_Enter courtiers of every grade, splendidly attired. The
+Emperor ascends the throne; to the right the_ ASTROLOGER.
+
+
+EMPEROR
+
+ I greet you, trusty friends and dear,
+ Assembled thus from far and wide!--
+I see the wise man at my side,
+ But wherefore is the fool not here?
+
+PAGE
+
+ Entangled in thy mantle's flow.
+ He tripped upon the stair below;
+ The mass of fat they bare away,
+ If dead or drunken--who can say?
+
+SECOND PAGE
+
+ Forthwith another comes apace,
+ With wondrous speed to take his place;
+ Costly, yet so grotesque his gear,
+ All start amazed as he draws near.
+ Crosswise the guards before his face,
+ Entrance to bar, their halberds hold--
+ Yet there he is, the fool so bold.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_kneeling before the throne_)
+
+ What is accursed and gladly hailed?
+ What is desired and chased away?
+ What is upbraided and assailed?
+ What wins protection every day?
+ Whom darest thou not summon here?
+ Whose name doth plaudits still command?
+ What to thy throne now draweth near?
+ What from this place itself hath banned?
+
+EMPEROR
+
+ For this time thou thy words may'st spare!
+ This is no place for riddles, friend;
+ They are these gentlemen's affair,--
+ Solve them! an ear I'll gladly lend.
+ My old fool's gone, far, far away, I fear;
+ Take thou his place, come, stand beside me here!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _ascends and places himself at the_
+EMPEROR'S _left._]
+
+_Murmur of the Crowd_
+
+ Here's a new fool--for plague anew!
+ Whence cometh he?--How passed he through?
+ The old one fell--he squander'd hath.--
+ He was a tub--now 'tis a lath.--
+
+EMPEROR
+
+So now, my friends, beloved and leal,
+Be welcome all, from near and far!
+Ye meet 'neath an auspicious star;
+For us above are written joy and weal.
+But tell me wherefore, on this day,
+When we all care would cast away,
+And don the masker's quaint array,
+And naught desire but to enjoy,
+Should we with state affairs ourselves annoy?
+But if ye think it so must be indeed,
+Why, well and good, let us forthwith proceed!
+
+CHANCELLOR
+
+The highest virtue circles halo-wise
+Our Cæsar's brow; virtue, which from the throne,
+He validly can exercise alone:
+Justice!--What all men love and prize,
+What all demand, desire, and sorely want,
+It lies with him, this to the folk to grant.
+But ah! what help can intellect command,
+Goodness of heart, or willingness of hand,
+When fever saps the state with deadly power,
+And mischief breedeth mischief, hour by hour?
+To him who downward from this height supreme
+Views the wide realm, 'tis like a troubled dream,
+Where the deformed deformity o'ersways,
+Where lawlessness, through law, the tyrant plays,
+And error's ample world itself displays.
+
+One steals a woman, one a steer,
+Lights from the altar, chalice, cross,
+Boasts of his deed full many a year,
+Unscathed in body, without harm or loss.
+Now to the hall accusers throng;
+On cushioned throne the judge presides;
+Surging meanwhile in eddying tides,
+Confusion waxes fierce and strong.
+
+He may exalt in crime and shame,
+Who on accomplices depends;
+Guilty! the verdict they proclaim,
+When Innocence her cause defends.
+So will the world succumb to ill,
+And what is worthy perish quite;
+How then may grow the sense which still
+Instructs us to discern the right?
+E'en the right-minded man, in time,
+To briber and to flatterer yields;
+The judge, who cannot punish crime,
+Joins with the culprit whom he shields.--
+I've painted black, yet fain had been
+A veil to draw before the scene.
+
+_Pause_
+
+Measures must needs be taken; when
+All injure or are injured, then
+E'en Majesty becomes a prey.
+
+FIELD MARSHAL
+
+In these wild days what tumults reign!
+Each smitten is and smites again,
+Deaf to command, will none obey.
+The burgher, safe behind his wall,
+Within his rocky nest, the knight,
+Against us have conspired, and all
+Firmly to hold their own unite.
+Impatient is the hireling now,
+With vehemence he claims his due;
+And did we owe him naught, I trow,
+Off he would run, nor bid adieu.
+Who thwarts what fondly all expect,
+He bath disturbed a hornet's nest;
+The empire which they should protect,
+It lieth plundered and oppress'd.
+Their furious rage may none restrain;
+Already half the world's undone;
+Abroad there still are kings who reign--
+None thinks 'tis his concern, not one.
+
+TREASURER
+
+Who will depend upon allies!
+For us their promised subsidies
+Like conduit-water, will not flow.
+Say, Sire, through your dominions vast
+To whom hath now possession passed!
+Some upstart, wheresoe'er we go,
+Keeps house, and independent reigns.
+We must look on, he holds his own;
+So many rights away we've thrown,
+That for ourselves no right remains.
+On so-called parties in the state
+There's no reliance, now-a-days;
+They may deal out or blame or praise,
+Indifferent are love and hate.
+The Ghibelline as well as Guelph
+Retire, that they may live at ease!
+Who helps his neighbor now? Himself
+Each hath enough to do to please.
+Barred are the golden gates; while each
+Scrapes, snatches, gathers all within his reach--
+Empty, meanwhile, our chest remains.
+
+STEWARD
+
+What worry must I, also, bear!
+Our aim each day is still to spare--
+And more each day we need; my pains,
+Daily renewed, are never o'er.
+The cooks lack nothing;--deer, wild-boar,
+Stags, hares, fowls, turkeys, ducks and geese,--
+Tribute in kind, sure payment, these
+Come fairly in, and none complains.
+But now at last wine fails; and if of yore
+Up-piled upon the cellar-floor,
+Cask rose on cask, a goodly store,
+From the best slopes and vintage; now
+The swilling of our lords, I trow,
+Unceasing, drains the very lees.
+E'en the Town-council must give out
+Its liquor;--bowls and cups they seize;
+And 'neath the table lies the drunken rout.
+Now must I pay, whate'er betides;
+Me the Jew spares not; he provides
+Anticipation-bonds which feed
+Each year on that which must succeed;
+The swine are never fattened now;
+Pawned is the pillow or the bed,
+And to the table comes fore-eaten bread.
+
+EMPEROR (_after some reflection, to_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+Say, fool, another grievance knowest thou?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I, nowise. On this circling pomp to gaze,
+On thee and thine! There can reliance fail
+Where majesty resistless sways,
+And ready power makes foemen quail?
+Where loyal will, through reason strong,
+And prowess, manifold, unite,
+What could together join for wrong,
+For darkness, where such stars give light?
+
+_Murmur of the Crowd_
+
+ He is a knave--he comprehends--
+ He lies--while lying serves his ends--
+Full well I know--what lurks behind--
+What next?--Some scheme is in the wind!--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Where is not something wanting here on earth?
+Here this,--there that: of gold is here the dearth.
+It cannot from the floor be scrap'd, 'tis true;
+But what lies deepest wisdom brings to view.
+In mountain-veins, walls underground,
+Is gold, both coined and uncoined, to be found.
+And if ye ask me,--bring it forth who can?
+Spirit-and nature-power of gifted man.
+
+CHANCELLOR
+
+Nature and spirit--christians ne'er should hear
+Such words, with peril fraught and fear.
+These words doom atheists to the fire.
+Nature is sin, spirit is devil; they,
+Between them, doubt beget, their progeny,
+Hermaphrodite, mis-shapen, dire.
+Not so with us! Within our Cæsar's land
+Two orders have arisen, two alone,
+Who worthily support his ancient throne:
+Clergy and knights, who fearless stand,
+Bulwarks 'gainst every storm, and they
+Take church and state as their appropriate pay.
+Through lawless men, the vulgar herd
+To opposition have of late been stirred;
+The heretics these are, the wizards, who
+The city ruin and the country too.
+With thy bold jests, to this high sphere,
+Such miscreants wilt smuggle in;
+Hearts reprobate to you are dear;
+They to the fool are near of kin.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Herein your learned men I recognize!
+What you touch not, miles distant from you lies;
+What you grasp not, is naught in sooth to you;
+What you count not, cannot, you deem, be true;
+What you weigh not, that hath for you no weight;
+What you coin not, you're sure is counterfeit.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+Therewith our needs are not one whit the less.
+What meanest thou with this thy Lent-address?
+I'm tired of this eternal If and How.
+'Tis gold we lack; so good, procure it thou!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'll furnish more, ay, more than all you ask.
+Though light it seems, not easy is the task.
+There lies the gold, but to procure it thence,
+That is the art: who knoweth to commence?
+Only consider, in those days of terror,
+When human floods swamped land and folk together,
+How every one, how great soe'er his fear,
+All that he treasured most, hid there or here;
+So was it 'neath the mighty Roman's sway,
+So on till yesterday, ay, till today:
+That all beneath the soil still buried lies--
+The soil is Cæsar's, his shall be the prize.
+
+TREASURER
+
+Now for a fool he speaketh not amiss;
+Our Cæsar's ancient right, in sooth, was this.
+
+CHANCELLOR
+
+Satan for you spreads golden snares; 'tis clear,
+Something not right or pious worketh here.
+
+STEWARD
+
+To us at court if welcome gifts he bring,
+A little wrong is no such serious thing.
+
+FIELD MARSHAL
+
+Shrewd is the fool, he bids what all desire;
+The soldier, whence it comes, will not inquire.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You think yourselves, perchance, deceived by me;
+Ask the Astrologer! This man is he!
+Circle round circle, hour and house, he knows.--
+Then tell us, how the heavenly aspect shows.
+
+_Murmur of the Crowd_
+
+ Two rascals--each to other known--
+ Phantast and fool--so near the throne--
+ The old, old song,--now trite with age--
+ The fool still prompts--while speaks the sage.--
+
+ASTROLOGER (_speaks_, MEPHISTOPHELES _prompts_)
+
+The sun himself is purest gold; for pay
+And favor serves the herald, Mercury;
+Dame Venus hath bewitched you from above,
+Early and late, she looks on you with love;
+Chaste Luna's humor varies hour by hour;
+Mars, though he strike not, threats you with his power,
+And Jupiter is still the fairest star;
+Saturn is great, small to the eye and far;
+As metal him we slightly venerate,
+Little in worth, though ponderous in weight.
+Now when with Sol fair Luna doth unite.
+Silver with gold, cheerful the world and bright!
+Then easy 'tis to gain whate'er one seeks;
+Parks, gardens, palaces, and rosy cheeks;
+These things procures this highly learned man.
+He can accomplish what none other can.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+Double, methinks, his accents ring,
+And yet they no conviction bring.
+
+_Murmur_
+
+ Of what avail!--a worn-out tale--
+Calendery--and chemistry--
+I the false word--full oft have heard--
+And as of yore--we're hoax'd once more.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The grand discovery they misprize,
+As, in amaze, they stand around;
+One prates of gnomes and sorceries,
+Another of the sable hound.
+What matters it, though witlings rail,
+Though one his suit 'gainst witchcraft press,
+If his sole tingle none the less,
+If his sure footing also fail?
+Ye of all swaying Nature feel
+The secret working, never-ending,
+And, from her lowest depths up-tending,
+E'en now her living trace doth steal.
+If sudden cramps your limbs surprise,
+If all uncanny seem the spot--
+There dig and delve, but dally not!
+There lies the fiddler, there the treasure lies!
+
+_Murmur_
+
+  Like lead it lies my foot about--
+ Cramp'd is my arm--'tis only gout--
+ Twitchings I have in my great toe--
+ Down all my back strange pains I know--
+ Such indications make it clear
+ That sumless treasuries are here.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+To work--the time for flight is past.--
+Put to the test your frothy lies!
+These treasures bring before our eyes!
+Sceptre and sword aside I'll cast,
+And with these royal hands, indeed,
+If thou lie not, to work proceed.
+Thee, if thou lie, I'll send to hell!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Thither to find the way I know full well!--
+Yet can I not enough declare,
+What wealth unown'd lies waiting everywhere:
+The countryman, who ploughs the land,
+Gold-crocks upturneth with the mould;
+Nitre he seeks in lime-walls old,
+And findeth, in his meagre hand,
+Scared, yet rejoiced, rouleaus of gold.
+How many a vault upblown must be,
+Into what clefts, what shafts, must he
+Who doth of hidden treasure know,
+Descend, to reach the world below!
+In cellars vast, impervious made,
+Goblets of gold he sees displayed,
+Dishes and plates, row after row;
+There beakers, rich with rubies, stand;
+And would he use them, close at hand
+Well stored the ancient moisture lies;
+Yet--would ye him who knoweth, trust?--
+The staves long since have turned to dust,
+A tartar cask their place supplies!
+Not gold alone and jewels rare,
+Essence of noblest wines are there,
+In night and horror veiled. The wise,
+Unwearied here pursues his quest.
+To search by day, that were a jest;
+'Tis darkness that doth harbor mysteries.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+What can the dark avail? Look thou to that!
+If aught have worth, it cometh to the light.
+Who can detect the rogue at dead of night?
+Black are the cows, and gray is every cat.
+These pots of heavy gold, if they be there--
+Come, drive thy plough, upturn them with thy share!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Take spade and hoe thyself;--dig on--
+Great shalt thou be through peasant toil--
+A herd of golden calves anon
+Themselves shall tear from out the soil;
+Then straight, with rapture newly born,
+Thyself thou canst, thy sweet-heart wilt adorn.
+A sparkling gem, lustrous, of varied dye,
+Beauty exalts as well as majesty.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+To work, to work! How long wilt linger?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+                              Sire,
+Relax, I pray, such vehement desire!
+First let us see the motley, joyous show!
+A mind distraught conducts not to the goal.
+First must we calmness win through self-control,
+Through things above deserve what lies below.
+Who seeks for goodness, must himself be good;
+Who seeks for joy, must moderate his blood;
+Who wine desires, the luscious grape must press;
+Who craveth miracles, more faith possess.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+So be the interval in gladness spent!
+Ash-Wednesday cometh, to our heart's content.
+Meanwhile we'll solemnize, whate'er befall,
+More merrily the joyous Carnival.
+
+[_Trumpets. Exeunt._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+That merit and success are link'd together,
+This to your fools occurreth never;
+Could they appropriate the wise man's stone,
+That, not the wise man, they would prize alone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT THE SECOND
+
+HIGH-VAULTED, NARROW GOTHIC CHAMBER,
+FORMERLY FAUST'S, UNALTERED
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_stepping from behind a curtain. While
+he raises it and looks back_, FAUST _is seen, stretched
+upon an old-fashioned bed_)
+
+Lie there, ill-starred one! In love's chain,
+Full hard to loose, he captive lies!
+Not soon his senses will regain
+Whom Helena doth paralyze.
+
+(_Looking round_)
+
+Above, around, on every side
+I gaze, uninjured all remains:
+Dimmer, methinks, appear the color'd panes,
+The spiders' webs are multiplied,
+Yellow the paper, and the ink is dry;
+Yet in its place each thing I find;
+And here the very pen doth lie,
+Wherewith himself Faust to the Devil signed,
+Yea, quite dried up, and deeper in the bore,
+The drop of blood, I lured from him of yore--
+O'erjoyed to own such specimen unique
+Were he who objects rare is fain to seek--;
+Here on its hook hangs still the old fur cloak,
+Me it remindeth of that merry joke,
+When to the boy I precepts gave, for truth,
+Whereon, perchance, he's feeding now, as youth.
+The wish comes over me, with thee allied,
+Enveloped in thy worn and rugged folds,
+Once more to swell with the professor's pride!
+How quite infallible himself he holds;
+This feeling to obtain your savants know;
+The devil parted with it long ago.
+
+[_He shakes the fur cloak which he has taken down;
+crickets, moths, and chafers fly out._]
+
+CHORUS OF INSECTS
+
+ We welcome thy coming,
+ Our patron of yore!
+ We're dancing and humming,
+ And know thee once more.
+ Us singly, in silence,
+ Hast planted, and lo!
+ By thousands, oh Father,
+ We dance to and fro.
+ The rogue hides discreetly
+ The bosom within;
+ We looseskins fly rather
+ Forth from the fur skin.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+O'erjoyed I am my progeny to know!
+We're sure to reap in time, if we but sow.
+I shake the old fur-mantle as before,
+And here and there out flutters one or more.--
+Above, around, hasten, belovèd elves,
+In hundred thousand nooks to hide yourselves!
+'Mid boxes there of by-gone time,
+Here in these age-embrownèd scrolls,
+In broken potsherds, foul with grime,
+In yonder skulls' now eyeless holes!
+Amid such rotten, mouldering life,
+Must foolish whims for aye be rife.
+
+[_Slips into the fur mantle_.]
+
+Come shroud my shoulders as of yore!
+Today I'm principal once more;
+But useless 'tis, to bear the name:
+Where are the folk to recognize my claim?
+
+[_He pulls the bell, which emits a shrill penetrating
+sound, at which the halls shake and the doors
+spring open._]
+
+FAMULUS (_tottering up the long dark passage_)
+
+ What a clamor! What a quaking!
+ Stairs are rocking, walls are shaking:
+ Through the windows' quivering sheen,
+ Are the stormful lightnings seen;
+ Springs the ceiling,--thence, below,
+ Lime and mortar rattling flow:
+ And, though bolted fast, the door
+ Is undone by magic power!
+ There, in Faust's old fleece bedight,
+ Stands a giant,--dreadful sight!
+ At his glance, his beck, at me!
+ I could sink upon my knee.
+ Shall I fly, or shall I stay?
+ What will be my fate today?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Come hither, friend!--Your name is Nicodemus?
+
+FAMULUS
+
+Most honor'd Sir, such is my name.--Oremus!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+That we'll omit!
+
+FAMULUS
+
+           O joy, me you do not forget.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I know it well: old, and a student yet;
+My mossy friend, even a learned man
+Still studies on, because naught else he can:
+Thus a card-house each builds of medium height;
+The greatest spirit fails to build it quite.
+Your master, though, that title well may claim--
+The noble Doctor Wagner, known to fame,
+First in the learned world! 'Tis he, they say,
+Who holds that world together; every day
+Of wisdom he augments the store!
+Who crave omniscience, evermore
+In crowds upon his teaching wait;
+He from the rostrum shines alone;
+The keys doth like Saint Peter own,
+And doth of Hell and Heaven ope the gate;
+As before all he glows and sparkles,
+No fame, no glory but grows dim,
+Even the name of Faustus darkles!
+Inventor there is none like him.
+
+FAMULUS
+
+Pardon, most honor'd Sir, excuse me, pray--
+If I presume your utterance to gainsay--
+This bears not on the question any way;
+A modest mind is his allotted share.
+The disappearance, unexplained as yet,
+Of the great man, his mind doth sorely fret;
+Comfort from his return and health are still his prayer.
+The chamber, as in Doctor Faustus' day,
+Maintains, untouched, its former state,
+And for its ancient lord doth wait.
+Venture therein I scarcely may.
+What now the aspect of the stars?--
+Awe-struck the very walls appear;
+The door-posts quivered, sprang the bars--
+Else you yourself could not have entered here.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Where then bestowed himself hath he?
+Lead me to him! bring him to me!
+
+FAMULUS
+
+Alas! Too strict his prohibition,
+Scarce dare I, without his permission.
+Months, on his mighty work intent,
+Hath he, in strict seclusion spent.
+Most dainty 'mong your men of books,
+Like charcoal-burner now he looks,
+With face begrimed from ear to nose;
+His eyes are blear'd while fire he blows;
+Thus for the crisis still he longs;
+His music is the clang of tongs.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Admittance unto me deny?
+To hasten his success, the man am I.
+
+[_Exit_ FAMULUS. MEPHISTOPHELES _seats himself with a solemn air._]
+
+Scarce have I ta'en my post, when lo!
+Stirs from behind a guest, whom well I know;
+Of the most recent school, this time, is he,
+And quite unbounded will his daring be.
+
+BACCALAUREUS (_storming along the passage_)
+
+ Open find I door and gate!
+ Hope at last springs up elate,
+ That the living shall no more
+ Corpse-like rot, as heretofore,
+ And, while breathing living breath,
+ Waste and moulder as in death.
+
+ Here partition, screen, and wall
+ Are sinking, bowing to their fall,
+ And, unless we soon retreat,
+ Wreck and ruin us will greet.
+ Me, though bold, nor soon afraid,
+ To advance shall none persuade.
+ What shall I experience next?
+ Years ago, when sore perplexed,
+ Came I not a freshman here,
+ Full of anxious doubt and fear,
+ On these gray-beards then relied,
+ By their talk was edified?
+
+ What from musty tomes they drew,
+ They lied to me; the things they knew
+ Believed they not; with falsehood rife,
+ Themselves and me they robbed of life.
+ How?--Yonder is the murky glare,
+ There's one still sitting in the Chair--
+
+ Drawing near I wonder more--
+ Just as him I left of yore,
+ There he sits, in furry gown,
+ Wrapped in shaggy fleece, the brown!
+ Then he clever seemed, indeed,
+ Him as yet I could not read;
+ Naught will it avail today;
+ So have at him, straight-away!
+
+If Lethe's murky flood not yet hath passed,
+Old Sir, through your bald pate, that sideways bends,
+The scholar recognize, who hither wends,
+Outgrown your academic rods at last.
+The same I find you, as of yore;
+But I am now the same no more.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Glad am I that I've rung you here.
+ I prized you then not slightingly;
+ In grub and chrysalis appear
+ The future brilliant butterfly.
+ A childish pleasure then you drew
+ From collar, lace, and curls.--A queue
+ You probably have never worn?--
+ Now to a crop I see you shorn.
+ All resolute and bold your air--
+ But from the _absolute_ forbear!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+ We're in the ancient place, mine ancient Sir,
+ But think upon time's onward flow,
+ And words of double-meaning spare!
+ Quite otherwise we hearken now.
+ You fooled the simple, honest youth;
+ It cost but little art in sooth,
+ To do what none today will dare.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If to the young the naked truth one speaks,
+It pleases in no wise the yellow beaks;
+But afterward, when in their turn
+On their own skin the painful truth they learn,
+They think, forsooth, from their own head it came;
+"The master was a fool," they straight proclaim.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+A rogue perchance!--For where's the teacher found
+Who to our face, direct, will Truth expound?
+Children to edify, each knows the way,
+To add or to subtract, now grave, now gay.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+For learning there's in very truth a time;
+For teaching, I perceive, you now are prime.
+While a few suns and many moons have waned,
+A rich experience you have doubtless gained!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+Experience! Froth and scum alone,
+Not with the mind of equal birth!
+Confess! what men have always known,
+As knowledge now is nothing worth.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_after a pause_)
+
+I long have thought myself a fool;
+Now shallow to myself I seem, and dull.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+That pleases me! Like reason that doth sound;
+The first old man of sense I yet have found!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I sought for hidden treasures, genuine gold--
+And naught but hideous ashes forth I bore!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+Confess that pate of yours, though bare and old,
+Than yonder hollow skull is worth no more!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_good-naturedly_)
+
+Thou know'st not, friend, how rude is thy reply.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+In German to be courteous is to lie.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_still moving his wheel-chair ever nearer
+to the proscenium, to the pit_)
+
+Up here I am bereft of light and air;
+I perhaps shall find a refuge with you there?
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+When at their worst, that men would something be,
+When they are naught, presumptuous seems to me.
+Man's life is in the blood, and where, in sooth,
+Pulses the blood so strongly as in youth?
+That's living blood, which with fresh vigor rife,
+The newer life createth out of life.
+There all is movement, something there is done;
+Falleth the weak, the able presses on!
+While half the world we 'neath our sway have brought,
+What have ye done? Slept, nodded, dream'd, and thought,
+Plan after plan rejected;--nothing won.
+Age is, in sooth, a fever cold,
+With frost of whims and peevish need:
+When more than thirty years are told,
+As good as dead one is indeed:
+You it were best, methinks, betimes to slay.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The devil here has nothing more to say.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+Save through my will, no devil dares to be.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+The devil now prepares a fall for thee!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+The noblest mission this of youth's estate.
+The world was not, till it I did create;
+The radiant Sun I led from out the sea;
+Her changeful course the Moon began with me;
+The Day arrayed herself my steps to meet,
+The Earth grew green, and blossom'd me to greet:
+At my command, upon yon primal Night,
+The starry hosts unveiled their glorious light.
+Who, beside me, the galling chains unbound,
+Which cramping thought had cast your spirits round?
+But I am free, as speaks my spirit-voice,
+My inward light I follow, and rejoice;
+Swift I advance, enraptur'd, void of fear,
+Brightness before me, darkness in the rear. [_Exit._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Go, in thy pride, Original, thy way!--
+True insight would, in truth, thy spirit grieve!
+What wise or stupid thoughts can man conceive,
+Unponder'd in the ages passed away?--
+Yet we for him need no misgiving have;
+Changed will he be, when a few years are past;
+Howe'er absurdly may the must behave,
+Nathless it yields a wine at last.--
+
+(_To the younger part of the audience, who do not applaud._)
+
+Though to my words you're somewhat cold,
+Good children, me you don't offend;
+Reflect! The devil, he is old;
+Grow old then, him to comprehend!
+
+LABORATORY
+
+(_After the fashion of the middle ages; cumbrous, useless
+apparatus, for fantastic purposes_)
+
+WAGNER (_at the furnace_)
+
+ Soundeth the bell, the fearful clang
+ Thrills through these sooty walls; no more
+ Upon fulfilment waits the pang
+ Of hope or fear;--suspense is o'er;
+ The darknesses begin to clear,
+ Within the inmost phial glows
+ Radiance, like living coal, that throws,
+ As from a splendid carbuncle, its rays;
+ Athwart the gloom its lightning plays.
+ A pure white lustre doth appear;
+ O may I never lose it more!--
+ My God! what rattles at the door?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_entering_)
+
+ Welcome! As friend I enter here.
+
+WAGNER
+
+ Hail to the star that rules the hour!
+
+(_Softly_)
+
+On breath and utterance let a ban be laid!
+Soon will be consummate a work of power.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_in a whisper_)
+
+What is it, then?
+
+WAGNER
+ A man is being made.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A man? and pray what loving pair
+Have in your smoke-hole their abode?
+
+WAGNER
+
+Nay! Heaven forbid! As nonsense we declare
+The ancient procreative mode;
+The tender point, life's spring, the gentle strength
+That took and gave, that from within hath pressed,
+And seized, intent itself to manifest,
+The nearest first, the more remote at length,--
+This from its dignity is now dethron'd!
+The brute indeed may take delight therein,
+But man, by whom such mighty gifts are own'd,
+Must have a purer, higher origin.
+
+(_He turns to the furnace_)
+
+It flashes, see!--Now may we trustful hold,
+That if, of substances a hundred-fold,
+Through mixture,--for on mixture it depends--
+The human substance duly we compose,
+And then in a retort enclose,
+And cohobate; in still repose
+The work is perfected, our labor ends.
+
+(_Again turning to the furnace_)
+
+It forms! More clear the substance shows!
+Stronger, more strong, conviction grows!
+What Nature's mystery we once did style,
+That now to test, our reason tries,
+And what she organized erewhile,
+We now are fain to crystallize.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Who lives, doth much experience glean;
+By naught in this world will he be surprised;
+Already in my travel-years I've seen
+Full many a race of mortals crystallized.
+
+WAGNER (_still gazing intently on the phial_)
+
+It mounts, it glows, and doth together run,
+One moment, and the work is done!
+As mad, a grand design at first is view'd;
+But we henceforth may laugh at fate,
+And so a brain, with thinking-power embued,
+Henceforth your living thinker will create.
+
+(_Surveying the phial with rapture_)
+
+The glass resounds, with gracious power possessed;
+It dims, grows clear; living it needs must be!
+And now in form of beauty dressed,
+A dainty mannikin I see.
+What more can we desire, what more mankind?
+Unveiled is now what hidden was of late;
+Give ear unto this sound, and you will find,
+A voice it will become, articulate.--
+
+HOMUNCULUS (_in the phial, to_ WAGNER)
+
+Now, Fatherkin, how goes it? 'Twas no jest!
+Come, let me to thy heart be fondly pressed--
+Lest the glass break, less tight be thine embrace
+This is the property of things: the All
+Scarcely suffices for the natural;
+The artificial needs a bounded space.
+
+(_To_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+But thou, Sir Cousin, Rogue, art thou too here?
+At the right moment! Thee I thank. 'Tis clear
+To us a happy fortune leadeth thee;
+While I exist, still must I active be,
+And to the work forthwith myself would gird;
+Thou'rt skill'd the way to shorten.
+
+WAGNER
+
+                       Just one word!
+I oft have been ashamed that knowledge failed,
+When old and young with problems me assailed.
+For instance: no one yet could comprehend,
+How soul and body so completely blend,
+Together hold, as ne'er to part, while they
+Torment each other through the live-long day.
+So then--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+            Forbear! The problem solve for me,
+Why man and wife so wretchedly agree?
+Upon this point, my friend, thou'lt ne'er be clear;
+The mannikin wants work, he'll find it here.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+What's to be done?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_pointing to a side door_)
+
+               Yonder thy gifts display!
+
+WAGNER (_still gazing into the phial_)
+
+A very lovely boy, I needs must say!
+
+(_The side door opens_; FAUST _is seen stretched upon a
+couch_)
+
+HOMUNCULUS (_amazed_)
+
+Momentous!
+
+(_The phial slips from_ WAGNER's _hands, hovers over_
+FAUST, _and sheds a light upon him_)
+
+        Girt with beauty!--Water clear
+In the thick grove; fair women, who undress;
+Most lovely creatures!--grows their loveliness:
+But o'er the rest one shines without a peer,
+As if from heroes, nay from gods she came;
+In the transparent sheen her foot she laves;
+The tender life-fire of her noble frame
+She cools in yielding crystal of the waves.--
+Of swiftly moving wings what sudden noise?
+What plash, what plunge the liquid glass destroys?
+The maidens fly, alarmed; alone, the queen,
+With calm composure gazes on the scene;
+With womanly and proud delight, she sees
+The prince of swans press fondly to her knees,
+Persistent, tame; familiar now he grows.--
+But suddenly up-floats a misty shroud,
+And with thick-woven veil doth over-cloud
+The loveliest of all lovely shows.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Why thou in sooth canst everything relate!
+Small as thou art, as phantast thou art great.
+I can see nothing--
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ I believe it. Thou,
+Bred in the north, in the dark ages, how,
+In whirl of priesthood and knight-errantry,
+Have for such sights thy vision free!
+In darkness only thou'rt at home.
+
+(_Looking round_)
+
+Ye brown, repulsive blocks of stone,
+Arch-pointed, low, with mould o'ergrown!
+Should he awake, new care were bred,
+He on the spot would straight be dead.
+Wood-fountains, swans, fair nymphs undressed,
+Such was his dream, presageful, rare;
+In place like this how could he rest,
+Which I, of easy mood, scarce bear!
+Away with him!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I like your plan, proceed!
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+Command the warrior to the fight,
+The maiden to the dancers lead!
+They're satisfied, and all is right.
+E'en now a thought occurs, most bright;
+'Tis classical
+Walpurgis-night--Most fortunate! It suits his bent,
+So bring him straightway to his element!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of such I ne'er have heard, I frankly own.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+Upon your ear indeed how should it fall?
+Only romantic ghosts to you are known;
+Your genuine ghost is also classical.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+But whitherward to travel are we fain?
+Your antique colleagues are against my grain.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+North-westward, Satan, lies thy pleasure-ground;
+But, this time, we to the south-east are bound.--
+An ample vale Peneios floweth through,
+'Mid bush and tree its curving shores it laves;
+The plain extendeth to the mountain caves,
+Above it lies Pharsalus, old and new.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Alas! Forbear! For ever be eschewed
+Those wars of tyranny and servitude!
+I'm bored with them: for they, as soon as done,
+Straight recommence; and no one calls to mind
+That he in sooth is only played upon
+By Asmodeus, who still lurks behind.
+They battle, so 'tis said, for freedom's rights--
+More clearly seen, 'tis slave 'gainst slave who fights.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+Leave we to men their nature, quarrel-prone!
+Each must defend himself, as best he can,
+From boyhood up; so he becomes a man.
+The question here is, how to cure this one?
+
+(_Pointing to_ FAUST)
+
+Hast thou a means, here let it tested be;
+Canst thou do naught, then leave the task to me.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Full many a Brocken-piece I might essay,
+But bolts of heathendom foreclose the way.
+The Grecian folk were ne'er worth much, 'tis true,
+Yet with the senses' play they dazzle you;
+To cheerful sins the human heart they lure,
+While ours are reckoned gloomy and obscure.
+And now what next?
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ Of old thou wert not shy;
+And if I name Thessalian witches,--why,
+I something shall have said,--of that I'm sure.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_lustfully_)
+
+Thessalian witches--well! the people they
+Concerning whom I often have inquired.
+Night after night, indeed, with them to stay,
+That were an ordeal not to be desired;
+But for a trial trip--
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ The mantle there
+Reach hither, wrap it round the knight!
+As heretofore, the rag will bear
+Both him and thee; the way I'll light.
+
+WAGNER (_alarmed_)
+
+And I?
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ At home thou wilt remain,
+Thee most important work doth there detain;
+The ancient scrolls unfolding cull
+Life's elements, as taught by rule,
+And each with other then combine with care;
+Upon the _What_, more on the _How_, reflect!
+Meanwhile as through a piece of world I fare,
+I may the dot upon the "I" detect.
+Then will the mighty aim accomplish'd be;
+Such high reward deserves such striving;--wealth,
+Honor and glory, lengthen'd life, sound health,
+Knowledge withal and virtue--possibly.
+Farewell!
+
+WAGNER
+
+ Farewell! That grieves my heart full sore!
+I fear indeed I ne'er shall see thee more.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Now to Peneios forth we wend!
+ We must not slight our cousin's aid.
+
+ (_To the spectators_)
+
+ At last, in sooth, we all depend
+ On creatures we ourselves have made.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT THE THIRD
+
+BEFORE THE PALACE OF MENELAUS IN SPARTA
+
+_Enter_ HELENA, _with a chorus of captive Trojan women_
+PENTHALIS, _leader of the chorus_
+
+
+HELENA
+
+The much admired and much upbraided, Helena,
+From yonder strand I come, where erst we disembark'd,
+Still giddy from the roll of ocean's billowy surge,
+Which, through Poseidon's favor and through Euros' might,
+On lofty crested backs hither hath wafted us,
+From Phrygia's open field, to our ancestral bays.
+Yonder King Menelaus, glad of his return,
+With his brave men of war, rejoices on the beach.
+But oh, thou lofty mansion, bid me welcome home,
+Thou, near the steep decline, which Tyndareus, my sire,
+From Pallas' hill returning, here hath builded up;
+Which also was adorned beyond all Sparta's homes,
+What time with Clytemnestra, sister-like, I grew,
+With Castor, Pollux, too, playing in joyous sport.
+Wings of yon brazen portals, you I also hail!
+Through you, ye guest-inviting, hospitable gates,
+Hath Menelaus once, from many princes chosen,
+Shone radiant on my sight, in nuptial sort arrayed.
+Expand to me once more, that I the king's behest
+May faithfully discharge, as doth the spouse beseem.
+Let me within, and all henceforth behind remain,
+That, charged with doom, till now darkly hath round me stormed!
+For since, by care untroubled, I these sites forsook,
+Seeking Cythera's fane, as sacred wont enjoined,
+And by the spoiler there was seized, the Phrygian,
+Happened have many things, whereof men far and wide
+Are fain to tell, but which not fain to hear is he
+Of whom the tale, expanding, hath to fable grown.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Disparage not, oh glorious dame,
+ Honor'd possession of highest estate!
+ For sole unto thee is the greatest boon given;
+ The fame of beauty that all over-towers!
+ The hero's name before him resounds,
+ So strides he with pride;
+ Nathless at once the stubbornest yields
+ To beauty, the presence which all things subdues.
+
+HELENA
+
+Enough! I with my spouse, ship-borne, have hither sped,
+And to his city now by him before am sent.
+But what the thought he harbors, that I cannot guess.
+Come I as consort hither? Come I as a queen?
+Come I as victim for the prince's bitter pangs,
+And for the evils dire, long suffered by the Greeks?
+Conquered I am; but whether captive, know I not:
+For the Immortal Powers fortune and fame for me
+Have doomed ambiguous; direful ministers that wait
+On beauty's form, who even on this threshold here,
+With dark and threat'ning mien, stand bodeful at my side!
+Already, ere we left the hollow ship, my spouse
+Looked seldom on me, spake no comfortable word;
+As though he mischief brooded, facing me he sat.
+But now, when to Eurotas' deeply curving shores
+Steering our course, scarce had our foremost vessel's beak
+The land saluted, spake he, as by God inspired:
+"Here let my men of war, in ordered ranks, disbark;
+I marshal them, drawn up upon the ocean strand;
+But thou, pursue thy way, not swerving from the banks,
+Laden with fruit, that bound Eurotas' sacred stream,
+Thy coursers guiding o'er the moist enamelled meads,
+Until thou may'st arrive at that delightful plain,
+Where Lacedæmon, once a broad fruit-bearing field,
+By mountains stern surrounded lifteth now its walls.
+Set thou thy foot within the tower-crown'd princely house,
+Assemble thou the maids, whom I at parting left,
+And with them summon too the wise old stewardess.
+Bid her display to thee the treasures' ample store,
+As by thy sire bequeathed, and which, in peace and war,
+Increasing evermore, I have myself up-piled.
+All standing shalt thou find in ancient order; for,
+This is the prince's privilege, that to his home,
+When he returns at last, safe everything he finds,
+Each in its proper place, as he hath left it there.
+For nothing of himself the slave hath power to change."
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Oh gladden now, with glorious wealth,
+ Ever increasing, thine eye and heart!
+ For beautiful chains, the adornment of crowns,
+ Are priding themselves, in haughty repose;
+ But step thou in, and challenge them all,
+ They arm themselves straight;
+ I joy to see beauty contend for the prize,
+ With gold, and with pearls, and with jewels of price.
+
+HELENA
+
+Forthwith hath followed next this mandate of my lord:
+"Now when in order thou all things hast duly seen,
+As many tripods take, as needful thou may'st deem,
+And vessels manifold, which he at hand requires,
+Who duly would perform the sacrificial rite,
+The caldrons, and the bowls, and shallow altar-plates;
+Let purest water, too, from sacred fount be there,
+In lofty pitchers; further, store of season'd wood,
+Quick to accept the flame, hold thou in readiness;
+A knife, of sharpest edge, let it not fail at last.
+But I all other things to thy sole care resign."
+So spake he, urging me at once to part; but naught,
+Breathing the breath of life, the orderer appoints,
+That, to the Olympians' honor, he to slaughter doom'd:
+Suspicious seems it! yet, dismiss I further care;
+To the high Gods' decree be everything referred,
+Who evermore fulfil, what they in thought conceive;
+It may, in sooth, by men, as evil or as good
+Be counted, it by us, poor mortals, must be borne.
+Full oft the ponderous axe on high the priest hath raised,
+In consecration o'er the earth-bowed victim's neck.
+Nor could achieve the rite, for he was hinderèd,
+Or by approaching foe, or intervening God.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ What now will happen, canst thou not guess;
+ Enter, queen, enter thou in,
+ Strong of heart!
+ Evil cometh and good
+ Unexpected to mortals;
+ Though foretold, we credit it not.
+ Troya was burning, have we not seen
+ Death before us, terrible death!
+ And are we not here,
+ Bound to thee, serving with joy,
+ Seeing the dazzling sunshine of heaven,
+ And of earth too the fairest,
+ Kind one--thyself--happy are we!
+
+HELENA
+
+Come what come may! Whate'er impends, me it behoves
+To ascend, without delay, into the royal house,
+Long missed, oft yearned-for, well-nigh forfeited;
+Before mine eyes once more it stands, I know not how.
+My feet now bear me not so lightly as of yore,
+When up the lofty steps I, as a child, have sprung.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Fling now, O sisters, ye
+ Captives who mourn your lot,
+ All your sorrows far from you.
+ Share ye your mistress' joy!
+ Share ye Helena's joy,
+ Who to the dear paternal hearth,
+ Though returning full late in sooth,
+ Nathless with surer, firmer tread
+ Joyfully now approaches!
+ Praise ye the holy ones,
+ Happy restoring ones,
+ God's, the home-leaders, praise ye!
+ Soars the enfranchised one,
+ As upon out-spread wings,
+ Over the roughest fate, while in vain
+ Pines the captured one, yearning-fraught
+ Over the prison-battlements
+ Arms out-stretching, in anguish.
+
+ Nathless her a god hath seized,
+ The exiled one,
+ And from Ilion's wreck
+ Bare her hitherward back once more,
+ To the ancient, the newly-adornèd
+ Father-house,
+ After unspeakable
+ Pleasure and anguish,
+ Earlier youthful time,
+ Newly quicken'd, to ponder.
+
+PENTHALIS (_as leader of the chorus_)
+
+Forsake ye now of song the joy-surrounded path,
+As toward the portal-wings turn ye forthwith your gaze!
+What see I, sisters? Here, returneth not the queen?
+With step of eager haste, comes she not back to us?--
+What is it, mighty queen, that in the palace-halls,
+Instead of friendly hail, could there encounter thee,
+And shatter thus thy being? Thou conceal'st it not;
+For I abhorrence see, impressed upon thy brow,
+And noble anger, that contendeth with surprise.
+
+HELENA (_who has left the folded doors open, excited_)
+
+No vulgar fear beseems the daughter of high Zeus,
+And her no lightly-fleeting terror-hand may touch;
+But that dire horror which, from womb of ancient Night,
+In time primeval rising, still in divers shapes,
+Like lurid clouds, from out the mountain's fiery gorge,
+Whirls itself forth, may shake even the hero's breast.
+Thus have the Stygian Gods, with horror fraught, today
+Mine entrance to the house so marked, that fain I am,
+Back from the oft-time trod, long-yearned-for threshold now,
+Like to a guest dismissed, departing, to retire.
+Yet no, retreated have I hither to the light;
+No further shall ye drive me, Powers, who'er ye be!
+Some expiation, I'll devise, then purified,
+The hearth-flame welcome may the consort as the lord.
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS
+
+Discover, noble queen, to us thy handmaidens,
+Devotedly who serve thee, what hath come to pass!
+
+HELENA
+
+What I have seen ye, too, with your own eyes, shall see,
+If ancient Night, within her wonder-teeming womb,
+Hath not forthwith engulfed, once more, her ghastly birth;
+But yet, that ye may know, with words I'll tell it you:--
+What time the royal mansion's gloomy inner court,
+Upon my task intent, with solemn step I trod,
+I wondered at the drear and silent corridors.
+Fell on mine ear no sound of busy servitors,
+No stir of rapid haste, officious, met my gaze;
+Before me there appeared no maid, no stewardess,
+Who every stranger erst, with friendly greeting, hailed.
+But when I neared at length the bosom of the hearth,
+There saw I, by the light of dimly smouldering fire,
+Crouched on the ground, a crone, close-veiled, of stature huge,
+Not like to one asleep, but as absorbed in thought!
+With accent of command I summon her to work,
+The stewardess in her surmising, who perchance
+My spouse, departing hence, with foresight there had placed;
+Yet, closely muted up, still sits she, motionless;
+At length, upon my threat, up-lifts she her right arm,
+As though from hearth and hall she motioned me away.
+Wrathful from her I turn, and forthwith hasten out,
+Toward the steps, whereon aloft the Thalamos
+Rises adorned, thereto the treasure-house hard by;
+When, on a sudden, starts the wonder from the floor;
+Barring with lordly mien my passage, she herself
+In haggard height displays, with hollow eyes, blood-grimed,
+An aspect weird and strange, confounding eye and thought.
+Yet speak I to the winds; for language all in vain
+Creatively essays to body forth such shapes.
+There see herself! The light she ventures to confront!
+Here are we master, till the lord and monarch comes;
+The ghastly brood of Night doth Phoebus, beauty's friend,
+Back to their caverns drive, or them he subjugates.
+
+[PHORKYAS _stepping on the threshold, between the door-posts._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Much have I lived through, although my tresses
+ Youthfully waver still round my temples;
+ Manifold horrors have mine eyes witnessed;
+ Warfare's dire anguish, Ilion's night,
+ When it fell;
+
+ Through the o'erclouded, dust over-shadow'd
+ Tumult of war, to gods have I hearken'd,
+ Fearfully shouting; hearken'd while discord's
+ Brazen voices clang through the field
+ Rampart-wards.
+
+ Ah, yet standing were Ilion's
+ Ramparts; nathless the glowing flames
+ Shot from neighbor to neighbor roof,
+ Ever spreading from here and there,
+ with their tempest's fiery blast,
+ Over the night-darkened city.--
+
+ Flying, saw I through smoke and glare,
+ And the flash of the tonguèd flames,
+ Dreadful, threatening gods draw near;
+ Wondrous figures, of giant mould,
+ Onward striding through the weird
+ Gloom of fire-luminous vapor.
+
+ Saw I them, or did my mind,
+ Anguish-torn, itself body forth
+ Phantoms so terrible--never more
+ Can I tell; but that I this
+ Horrible shape with eyes behold,
+ This of a surety know I!
+ Yea, with my hands could clutch it even,
+ Did not fear, from the perilous
+ Venture, ever withhold me.
+
+ Tell me, of Phorkyas'
+ Daughters which art thou?
+ For to that family
+ Thee must I liken.
+ Art thou, may be, one of the gray-born?
+ One eye only, and but one tooth
+ Using still alternately?
+ One of the Graiæ art thou?
+ Darest thou, Horror,
+ Thus beside beauty,
+ Or to the searching glance
+ Phoebus' unveil thee?
+ Nathless step thou forward undaunted;
+ For the horrible sees he not,
+ As his hallowed glances yet
+ Never gazed upon shadows.
+
+ But a tragical fate, alas,
+ Us, poor mortals, constrains to bear
+ Anguish of vision, unspeakable,
+ Which the contemptible, ever-detestable,
+ Doth in lovers of beauty wake!
+
+ Yea, so hearken then, if thou dar'st
+ Us to encounter, hear our curse,
+ Hark to each imprecation's threat,
+ Out of the curse-breathing lips of the happy ones,
+ Who by the gods created are!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Trite is the word, yet high and true remains the sense:
+That Shame and Beauty ne'er together, hand in hand,
+Their onward way pursue, earth's verdant path along.
+Deep-rooted in these twain dwelleth an ancient grudge,
+So that, where'er they happen on their way to meet,
+Upon her hated rival turneth each her back;
+Then onward speeds her course with greater vehemence,
+Shame filled with sorrow, Beauty insolent of mood,
+Till her at length embraces Orcus' hollow night,
+Unless old age erewhile her haughtiness hath tamed.
+You find I now, ye wantons, from a foreign shore,
+With insolence o'erflowing, like the clamorous flight
+Of cranes, with shrilly scream that high above our heads,
+A long and moving cloud, croaking send down their noise,
+Which the lone pilgrim lures wending his silent way,
+Aloft to turn his gaze; yet on their course they fare,
+He also upon his: so will it be with us.
+
+Who are ye then, that thus around the monarch's house,
+With Maenad rage, ye dare like drunken ones to rave?
+Who are ye then that ye the house's stewardess
+Thus bay, like pack of hounds hoarsely that bay the moon?
+Think ye, 'tis hid from me, the race whereof ye are?
+Thou youthful, war-begotten, battle-nurtured brood,
+Lewd and lascivious thou, seducers and seduced,
+Unnerving both, the soldier's and the burgher's strength!
+Seeing your throng, to me a locust-swarm ye seem,
+Which, settling down, conceals the young green harvest-field.
+Wasters of others' toil! ye dainty revellers,
+Destroyers in its bloom of all prosperity!
+Thou conquer'd merchandise, exchanged and marketed!
+
+HELENA
+
+Who in the mistress' presence chides her handmaidens,
+Audacious, doth o'erstep her household privilege;
+For her alone beseems, the praise-worthy to praise,
+As also that to punish which doth merit blame.
+Moreover with the service am I well-content,
+Which these have rendered me, what time proud Ilion's strength
+Beleaguer'd stood, and fell and sank; nor less indeed
+When we, of our sea-voyage the dreary changeful woe
+Endured, where commonly each thinks but of himself.
+Here also I expect the like from this blithe train;
+Not what the servant is, we ask, but how he serves.
+Therefore be silent thou, and snarl at them no more!
+If thou the monarch's house till now hast guarded well,
+Filling the mistress' place, that for thy praise shall count;
+But now herself is come, therefore do thou retire,
+Lest chastisement be thine, instead of well-earn'd meed!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+The menial train to threat, a sacred right remains,
+Which the illustrious spouse of heaven-favor'd lord
+Through many a year doth earn of prudent governance.
+Since that, now recognized, thy ancient place as queen,
+And mistress of the house, once more thou dost resume,
+The long-time loosen'd reins grasp thou; be ruler here,
+And in possession take the treasures, us with them!
+Me before all protect, who am the elder-born,
+From this young brood, who seem, thy swan-like beauty near,
+But as a basely wingèd flock of cackling geese!
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS
+
+How hideous beside beauty showeth hideousness!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+How foolish by discretion's side shows foolishness!
+
+[_Henceforth the choristers respond in turn, stepping
+forth singly from the chorus._]
+
+FIRST CHORISTER
+
+Tell us of Father Erebus, tell us of Mother Night!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Speak thou of Scylla, speak of her, thy sister-born!
+
+SECOND CHORISTER
+
+From thy ancestral tree springs many a monster forth.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+To Orcus hence, away! Seek thou thy kindred there!
+
+THIRD CHORISTER
+
+Who yonder dwell, in sooth, for thee are far too young.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Tiresias, the hoary, go, make love to him!
+
+FOURTH CHORISTER
+
+Orion's nurse of old, was thy great-grand-daughter.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Harpies, so I suspect, did rear thee up in filth.
+
+FIFTH CHORISTER
+
+Thy cherished meagreness, whereon dost nourish that?
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+'Tis not with blood, for which so keenly thou dost thirst.
+
+SIXTH CHORISTER
+
+For corpses dost thou hunger, loathsome corpse thyself!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Within thy shameless jaw the teeth of vampires gleam.
+
+SEVENTH CHORISTER
+
+Thine I should stop were I to tell thee who thou art.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+First do thou name thyself; the riddle then is solved.
+
+HELENA
+
+Not wrathful, but in grief, step I between you now,
+Forbidding such alternate quarrel's angry noise;
+For to the ruler naught more hurtful can befall,
+Than, 'mong his trusty servants, sworn and secret strife;
+The echo of his mandate then to him no more
+In swift accomplished deed responsively returns;
+No, stormful and self-will'd, it rages him around,
+The self-bewilder'd one, and chiding still in vain.
+Nor this alone; ye have in rude unmanner'd wrath
+Unblessèd images of dreadful shapes evoked,
+Which so encompass me, that whirl'd I feel myself
+To Orcus down, despite these my ancestral fields.
+Is it remembrance? Was it frenzy seized on me?
+Was I all that? and am I? shall I henceforth be
+The dread and phantom-shape of those town-wasting ones?
+The maidens quail: but thou, the eldest, thou dost stand,
+Calm and unmoved; speak, then, to me some word of sense!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Who of long years recalls the fortune manifold,
+To him heaven's highest favor seems at last a dream.
+But thou, so highly favored, past all bound or goal,
+Saw'st, in thy life-course, none but love-inflamèd men,
+Kindled by impulse rash to boldest enterprise.
+Theseus by passion stirred full early seized on thee,
+A man of glorious form, and strong as Heracles.
+
+HELENA
+
+Forceful he bore me off, a ten-year slender roe,
+And in Aphidnus' keep shut me, in Attica.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+But thence full soon set free, by Castor, Pollux too,
+In marriage wast thou sought by chosen hero-band.
+
+HELENA
+
+Yet hath Patroclus, he, Pelides' other self,
+My secret favor won, as willingly I own.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+But thee thy father hath to Menelaus wed,
+Bold rover of the sea, and house-sustainer too.
+
+HELENA
+
+His daughter gave he, gave to him the kingdom's sway;
+And from our wedded union sprang Hermione.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+But while he strove afar, for Crete, his heritage,
+To thee, all lonely, came an all too beauteous guest.
+
+HELENA
+
+Wherefore the time recall of that half-widowhood,
+And what destruction dire to me therefrom hath grown!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+That voyage unto me, a free-born dame of Crete,
+Hath also capture brought, and weary servitude.
+
+HELENA
+
+As stewardess forthwith, he did appoint thee here,
+With much intrusted,--fort and treasure boldly won.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+All which thou didst forsake, by Ilion's tower-girt town
+Allured, and by the joys, the exhaustless joys of love.
+
+HELENA
+
+Remind me not of joys: No, an infinitude
+Of all too bitter woe o'erwhelm'd my heart and brain.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Nathless 'tis said thou didst in two-fold shape appear;
+Seen within Ilion's walls, and seen in Egypt too.
+
+HELENA
+
+Confuse thou not my brain, distraught and desolate!
+Here even, who I am in sooth I cannot tell.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+'Tis also said, from out the hollow shadow-dream,
+Achilles, passion-fired, hath joined himself to thee,
+Whom he hath loved of old, 'gainst all resolves of Fate.
+
+HELENA
+
+As phantom I myself, to him a phantom bound;
+A dream it was--thus e'en the very words declare.
+I faint, and to myself a phantom I become.
+          [She sinks into the arms of the semi-chorus._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Silence! Silence!
+ False seeing one, false speaking one, thou!
+ Through thy horrible, single-tooth'd lips,
+ Ghastly, what exhaleth
+ From such terrible loathsome gulf!
+ For the malignant one, kindliness feigning,
+ Rage of wolf 'neath the sheep's woolly fleece,
+ Far more terrible is unto me than
+ Jaws of the hound three-headed.
+ Anxiously watching stand we here:
+ When? How? Where of such malice
+ Bursteth the tempest
+ From this deep-lurking brood of Hell?
+ Now, 'stead of friendly words, freighted with comfort,
+ Lethe-bestowing, gracious and mild,
+ Thou art summoning from times departed,
+ Thoughts of the past most hateful,
+ Overshadowing not alone
+ All sheen gilding the present,
+ Also the future's
+ Mildly glimmering light of hope.
+
+ Silence! Silence!
+ That fair Helena's soul,
+ Ready e'en now to take flight,
+ Still may keep, yea firmly keep
+ The form of all forms, the loveliest,
+ Ever illumined of old by the sun.
+
+[HELENA _has revived, and again stands in the midst._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+(_The scene is entirely changed. Close arbors recline against a series
+of rocky caverns. A shady grove extends to the base of the encircling
+rocks_. FAUST _and_ HELENA _are not seen. The_ CHORUS _lies sleeping,
+scattered here and there_.)
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+How long these maids have slept, in sooth I cannot tell;
+Or whether they have dreamed what I before mine eyes
+Saw bright and clear, to me is equally unknown.
+So wake I them. Amazed the younger folks shall be,
+Ye too, ye bearded ones, who sit below and wait,
+Hoping to see at length these miracles resolved.
+Arise! Arise! And shake quickly your crisped locks!
+Shake slumber from your eyes! Blink not, and list to me!
+
+CHORUS
+
+Only speak, relate, and tell us, what of wonderful hath chanced!
+We more willingly shall hearken that which we cannot believe;
+For we are aweary, weary, gazing on these rocks around.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Children, how, already weary, though you scarce have rubbed your eyes?
+Hearken then! Within these caverns, in these grottoes, in these bowers,
+Shield and shelter have been given, as to lover-twain idyllic,
+To our lord and to our lady--
+
+CHORUS
+                        How, within there?
+
+PHORKYAS
+                                        Yea, secluded
+From the world; and me, me only, they to secret service called.
+Highly honored stood I near them, yet, as one in trust beseemeth,
+Round I gazed on other objects, turning hither, turning thither,
+Sought for roots, for barks and mosses, with their properties acquainted;
+And they thus remained alone.
+
+CHORUS
+
+Thou would'st make believe that yonder, world-wide spaces lie within,
+Wood and meadow, lake and brooklet; what strange fable spinnest thou!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Yea, in sooth, ye inexperienced, there lie regions undiscovered:
+Hall on hall, and court on court; in my musings these I track.
+Suddenly a peal of laughter echoes through the cavern'd spaces;
+In I gaze, a boy is springing from the bosom of the woman
+To the man, from sire to mother: the caressing and the fondling,
+All love's foolish playfulnesses, mirthful cry and shout of rapture,
+Alternating, deafen me.
+Naked, without wings, a genius, like a faun, with nothing bestial,
+On the solid ground he springeth; but the ground, with counter-action,
+Up to ether sends him flying; with the second, third rebounding
+Touches he the vaulted roof.
+Anxiously the mother calleth: Spring amain, and at thy pleasure;
+But beware, think not of flying, unto thee is flight denied.
+And so warns the faithful father: In the earth the force elastic
+Lies, aloft that sends thee bounding; let thy toe but touch the surface,
+Like the son of earth, Antæus, straightway is thy strength renewed.
+And so o'er these rocky masses, on from dizzy ledge to ledge,
+Leaps he ever, hither, thither, springing like a stricken ball.
+But in cleft of rugged cavern suddenly from sight he vanished;
+And now lost to us he seemeth, mother waileth, sire consoleth,
+Anxiously I shrug my shoulders. But again, behold, what vision!
+Lie there treasures hidden yonder? Raiment broidered o'er with flowers
+He becomingly hath donned;
+Tassels from his arms are waving, ribbons flutter on his bosom,
+In his hand the lyre all-golden, wholly like a tiny Phoebus,
+Boldly to the edge he steppeth, to the precipice; we wonder,
+And the parents, full of rapture, cast them on each other's heart;
+For around his brow what splendor! Who can tell what there is shining?
+Gold-work is it, or the flaming of surpassing spirit-power?
+Thus he moveth, with such gesture, e'en as boy himself announcing
+Future master of all beauty, through whose limbs, whose every member,
+Flow the melodies eternal: and so shall ye hearken to him,
+And so shall ye gaze upon him, to your special wonderment.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ This call'st thou marvelous,
+ Daughter of Creta?
+ Unto the bard's pregnant word
+ Hast thou perchance never listened?
+ Hast thou not heard of Ionia's,
+ Ne'er been instructed in Hellas'
+ Legends, from ages primeval,
+ Godlike, heroical treasure?
+ All, that still happeneth
+ Now in the present,
+ Sorrowful echo 'tis,
+ Of days ancestral, more noble;
+ Equals not in sooth thy story
+ That which beautiful fiction,
+ Than truth more worthy of credence,
+ Chanted hath of Maia's offspring!
+ This so shapely and potent, yet
+ Scarcely-born delicate nursling,
+ Straight have his gossiping nurses
+ Folded in purest swaddling fleece,
+ Fastened in costly swathings,
+ With their irrational notions.
+ Potent and shapely, ne'ertheless,
+ Draws the rogue his flexible limbs,
+ Body firm yet elastic,
+ Craftily forth; the purple shell,
+ Him so grievously binding,
+ Leaving quietly in its place;
+ As the perfected butterfly,
+ From the rigid chrysalid,
+ Pinion unfolding, rapidly glides,
+ Boldly and wantonly sailing through
+ Sun-impregnated ether.
+
+ So he, too, the most dextrous,
+ That to robbers and scoundrels,
+ Yea, and to all profit-seekers,
+ He a favoring god might be,
+ This he straightway made manifest,
+ Using arts the most cunning.
+ Swift from the ruler of ocean he
+ Steals the trident, yea, e'en from Arès
+ Steals the sword from the scabbard;
+ Arrow and bow from Phoebus too,
+ Also his tongs from Hephæstos
+ Even Zeus', the father's, bolt,
+ Him had fire not scared, he had ta'en.
+ Eros also worsted he,
+ In limb-grappling, wrestling match;
+ Stole from Cypria as she caressed him,
+ From her bosom, the girdle.
+
+(_An exquisite, purely melodious lyre-music resounds from
+the cave. All become attentive, and appear soon to be
+inwardly moved; henceforth, to the pause indicated,
+there is a full musical accompaniment._)
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+ Hark those notes so sweetly sounding;
+ Cast aside your fabled lore:
+ Gods, in olden time abounding,--
+ Let them go! their day is o'er.
+
+ None will comprehend your singing;
+ Nobler theme the age requires:
+ From the heart must flow, up-springing,
+ What to touch the heart aspires.
+              [_She retires behind the rock._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ To these tones, so sweetly flowing,
+ Dire one! dost incline thine ears,
+ They in us, new health bestowing,
+ Waken now the joy of tears.
+
+ Vanish may the sun's clear shining,
+ In our soul if day arise,
+ In our heart we, unrepining,
+ Find what the whole world denies.
+
+(HELENA, FAUST, EUPHORION _in the costume indicated above_)
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Songs of childhood hear ye ringing,
+ Your own mirth it seems; on me
+ Gazing, thus in measure springing,
+ Leap your parent-hearts with glee.
+
+HELENA
+
+ Love, terrestrial bliss to capture,
+ Two in noble union mates;
+ But to wake celestial rapture,
+ He a precious three creates.
+
+FAUST
+
+All hath been achieved. For ever
+I am thine, and mine thou art,
+Blent our beings are--oh never
+May our present joy depart!
+
+CHORUS
+
+Many a year of purest pleasure,
+In the mild light of their boy,
+Crowns this pair in richest measure.
+Me their union thrills with joy!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Now let me gambol,
+ Joyfully springing!
+ Upward to hasten
+ Through ether winging,
+ This wakes my yearning,
+ This prompts me now!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Gently! son, gently!
+ Be not so daring!
+ Lest ruin seize thee
+ Past all repairing,
+ And our own darling
+ Whelm us in woe!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ From earth my spirit
+ Still upward presses;
+ Let go my hands now,
+ Let go my tresses,
+ Let go my garments,
+ Mine every one!
+
+HELENA
+
+ To whom, bethink thee,
+ Now thou pertainest!
+ Think how it grieves us
+ When thou disdainest
+ Mine, thine, and his,--the all
+ That hath been won.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Soon shall, I fear me,
+ The bond be undone!
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+ Curb for thy parents' sake,
+ To us returning,
+ Curb thy importunate
+ Passionate yearning!
+ Make thou the rural plain
+ Tranquil and bright.
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ But to content you
+ Stay I my flight.
+
+(_Winding among the_ CHORUS _and drawing them forth to dance_)
+
+ Round this gay troop I flee
+ With impulse light.
+ Say is the melody,
+ Say is the movement right?
+
+HELENA
+
+ Yea, 'tis well done; advance,
+ Lead to the graceful dance
+ These maidens coy!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Could I the end but see!
+ Me this mad revelry
+ Fills with annoy.
+
+EUPHORION _and the_ CHORUS
+
+(_Dancing and singing, they move about in interweaving lines_)
+
+ Moving thine arms so fair
+ With graceful motion,
+ Tossing thy curling hair
+ In bright commotion;
+ When thou with foot so light
+ Over the earth doth skim,
+ Thither and back in flight,
+ Moving each graceful limb;
+ Thou hast attained thy goal,
+ Beautiful child,
+ All hearts thou hast beguiled,
+ Won every soul. [_Pause._]
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Gracefully sporting,
+ Light-footed roes,
+ New frolic courting
+ Scorn ye repose:
+ I am the hunter,
+ Ye are the game.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Us wilt thou capture,
+ Urge not thy pace;
+ For it were rapture
+ Thee to embrace,
+ Beautiful creature,
+ This our sole aim!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Through trees and heather,
+ Bound all together,
+ O'er stock and stone!
+ Whate'er is lightly won,
+ That I disdain;
+ What I by force obtain,
+ Prize I alone.
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+What vagaries, sense confounding!
+Naught of measure to be hoped for!
+Like the blare of trumpet sounding,
+Over vale and forest ringing.
+What a riot! What a cry!
+
+CHORUS (_entering quickly one by one_)
+
+Us he passed with glance scorn-laden;
+Hastily still onward springing,
+Bearing now the wildest maiden
+Of our troop, he draweth nigh.
+
+EUPHORION (_bearing a young maiden_)
+
+I this wilful maid and coy
+Carry to enforced caress;
+For my pleasure, for my joy
+Her resisting bosom press,
+Kiss her rebel lips, that so
+She my power and will may know.
+
+MAIDEN
+
+Loose me! in this frame residing,
+Burns a spirit's strength and might;
+Strong as thine, our will presiding
+Swerveth not with purpose light.
+Thinkest, on thy strength relying,
+That thou hast me in a strait?
+Hold me, fool! thy strength defying,
+For my sport, I'll scorch thee yet!
+           [_She flames up and flashes into the air_.]
+
+Follow where light breezes wander,
+Follow to rude caverns yonder,
+Strive thy vanish'd prey to net!
+
+EUPHORION (_shaking off the last flames_)
+
+Rocks all around I see,
+Thickets and woods among!
+Why should they prison me?
+Still am I fresh and young.
+Tempests, they loudly roar,
+Billows, they lash the shore;
+Both far away I hear;
+Would I were near!
+       [_He springs higher up the rock._]
+
+HELENA, FAUST, _and_ CHORUS
+
+Wouldst thou chamois-like aspire?
+Us thy threaten'd fall dismays!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Higher must I climb, yet higher,
+Wider still must be my gaze.
+Know I now, where I stand:
+'Midst of the sea-girt land,
+'Midst of great Pelops' reign,
+Kin both to earth and main.
+
+CHORUS
+
+Canst not near copse and wold
+Tarry, then yonder,
+Ripe figs and apple-gold
+Seeking, we'll wander;
+Grapes too shall woo our hand,
+Grapes from the mantling vine.
+Ah, let this dearest land,
+Dear one, be thine!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Dream ye of peaceful day?
+ Dream on, while dream ye may!
+ War! is the signal cry,
+ Hark! cries of victory!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ War who desireth
+ While peace doth reign,
+ To joy aspireth
+ Henceforth in vain.
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ All whom this land hath bred,
+ Through peril onward led,
+ Free, of undaunted mood,
+ Still lavish of their blood,
+ With soul untaught to yield,
+ Rending each chain!
+ To such the bloody field,
+ Brings glorious gain.
+
+CHORUS
+
+High he soars,--mark, upward gazing,--
+And to us not small doth seem:
+Victor-like, in harness blazing,
+As of steel and brass the gleam!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Not on moat or wall relying,
+On himself let each one rest!
+Firmest stronghold, all defying,
+Ever is man's iron breast!
+
+Dwell for aye unconquered would ye?
+Arm, by no vain dreams beguiled!
+Amazons your women should be,
+And a hero every child!
+
+CHORUS
+
+O hallowed Poesie,
+Heavenward still soareth she!
+Shine on, thou brightest star,
+Farther and still more far!
+Yet us she still doth cheer;
+Even her voice to hear,
+Joyful we are.
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Child no more; a stripling bearing
+Arms appears, with valor fraught
+Leagued with the strong, the free, the daring,
+In soul already who hath wrought.
+Hence away!
+No delay!
+There where glory may be sought.
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+Scarcely summoned to life's gladness,
+Scarcely given to day's bright gleam,
+Downward now to pain and sadness
+Wouldst thou rush, from heights supreme!
+Are then we
+Naught to thee?
+Is our gracious bond a dream?
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Hark! What thunders seaward rattle,
+Echoing from vale to vale!
+'Mid dust and foam, in shock of battle,
+Throng on throng, to grief and bale!
+And the command
+Is, firm to stand;
+Death to face, nor ever quail.
+
+HELENA, FAUST, _and_ CHORUS
+
+Oh what horror! Hast thou told it!
+Is then death for thee decreed?
+
+EUPHORION
+
+From afar shall I behold it?
+No! I'll share the care and need!
+
+HELENA, FAUST _and_ CHORUS
+
+Rashness to peril brings,
+And deadly fate!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Yet--see a pair of wings
+Unfoldeth straight!
+Thither--I must, I must--
+Grudge not my flight!
+
+[_He casts himself into the air; his garments support him
+for a moment; his head flames, a trail of light follows him._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Icarus! Icarus!
+ Oh woeful sight!
+
+(_A beautiful youth falls at the parents' feet; we imagine
+that in the dead we recognize a well-known form; yet
+suddenly the corporeal part vanishes; the aureole rises
+like a comet to heaven; dress, mantle, and lyre remain
+lying on the ground._)
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+Follows on joy new-born
+Anguishful moan!
+
+EUPHORION'S VOICE, (_from the depths_)
+
+Leave me in realms forlorn,
+Mother, not all alone! [_Pause._]
+
+CHORUS (_dirge_)
+
+Not alone--for hope we cherish,
+Where thou bidest thee to know!
+Ah, from daylight though thou perish,
+Ne'er a heart will let thee go!
+Scarce we venture to bewail thee,
+Envying we sing thy fate:
+Did sunshine cheer, or storm assail thee,
+Song and heart were fair and great.
+
+Earthly fortune was thy dower,
+Lofty lineage, ample might,
+Ah, too early lost, thy flower
+Withered by untimely blight!
+Glance was thine the world discerning,
+Sympathy with every wrong,
+Woman's love for thee still yearning,
+And thine own enchanting song.
+
+Yet the beaten path forsaking,
+Thou didst run into the snare;
+So with law and usage breaking,
+On thy wilful course didst fare;
+Yet at last high thought has given
+To thy noble courage weight,
+For the loftiest thou has striven--
+It to win was not thy fate.
+
+Who does win it? Unreplying,
+Destiny the question hears,
+When the bleeding people lying,
+Dumb with grief, no cry uprears!--
+Now new songs chant forth, in sorrow
+Deeply bowed lament no more;
+Them the earth brings forth tomorrow,
+As she brought them forth of yore!
+
+[_Full pause. The music ceases._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT THE FIFTH
+
+OPEN COUNTRY
+
+
+WANDERER
+
+Yes, 'tis they, their branches rearing,
+Hoary lindens, strong in age;--
+There I find them, reappearing,
+After my long pilgrimage!
+'Tis the very spot;--how gladly
+Yonder hut once more I see,
+By the billows raging madly,
+Cast ashore, which sheltered me!
+My old hosts, I fain would greet them,
+Helpful they, an honest pair;
+May I hope today to meet them?
+Even then they aged were.
+Worthy folk, in God believing!
+Shall I knock? or raise my voice?
+Hail to you if, guest receiving,
+In good deeds ye still rejoice!
+
+BAUCIS (_a very aged woman_)
+
+Stranger dear, beware of breaking
+My dear husband's sweet repose!
+Strength for brief and feeble waking
+Lengthened sleep on age bestows.
+
+WANDERER
+
+Mother, say then, do I find thee,
+To receive my thanks once more,
+In my youth who didst so kindly,
+With thy spouse, my life restore?
+Baucis, to my lips half-dying,
+Art thou, who refreshment gave?
+          [_The husband steps forth._]
+
+Thou Philemon, strength who plying,
+Snatched my treasure from the wave?
+By your flames, so promptly kindled,
+By your bell's clear silver sound--
+That adventure, horror-mingled,
+Hath a happy issue found.
+Forward let me step, and gazing
+Forth upon the boundless main,
+Kneel, and thankful prayers upraising,
+Ease of my full heart the strain!
+
+   [_He walks forward upon the downs._]
+
+PHILEMON (_to_ BAUCIS)
+
+Haste to spread the table, under
+The green leafage of our trees.
+Let him run, struck dumb with wonder,
+Scarce he'll credit what he sees.
+
+[_He follows the wanderer. Standing beside him._]
+
+Where the billows did maltreat you,
+Wave on wave in fury rolled,
+There a garden now doth greet you,
+Fair as Paradise of old.
+Grown more aged, as when stronger,
+I could render aid no more;
+And, as waned my strength, no longer
+Rolled the sea upon the shore;
+Prudent lords, bold serfs directing,
+It with trench and dyke restrained;
+Ocean's rights no more respecting,
+Lords they were, where he had reigned.
+See, green meadows far extending;--
+Garden, village, woodland, plain.
+But return we, homeward wending,
+For the sun begins to wane.
+In the distance sails are gliding,
+Nightly they to port repair;
+Bird-like, in their nests confiding,
+For a haven waits them there.
+Far away mine eye discerneth
+First the blue fringe of the main;
+Right and left, where'er it turneth,
+Spreads the thickly-peopled plain.
+
+
+IN THE GARDEN
+
+_The three at table_
+
+
+BAUCIS (_to the stranger_)
+
+Art thou dumb? No morsel raising
+To thy famished lips?
+
+PHILEMON
+
+ I trow,
+He of wonders so amazing
+Fain would hear; inform him thou.
+
+BAUCIS
+
+There was wrought a wonder truly,
+Yet no rest it leaves to me;
+Naught in the affair was duly
+Done, as honest things should be!
+
+PHILEMON
+
+Who as sinful can pronounce it?
+'Twas the emperor gave the shore;--
+Did the trumpet not announce it
+As the herald passed our door?
+Footing firm they first have planted
+Near these downs. Tents, huts, appeared;
+O'er the green, the eye, enchanted,
+Saw ere long a palace reared.
+
+BAUCIS
+
+Shovel, axe, no labor sparing,
+Vainly plied the men by day;
+Where the fires at night shone flaring,
+Stood a dam, in morning's ray.
+Still from human victims bleeding,
+Wailing sounds were nightly borne;
+Seaward sped the flames, receding;
+A canal appeared at morn!
+Godless is he, naught respecting;
+Covets he our grove, our cot;
+Though our neighbor, us subjecting,
+Him to serve will be our lot.
+
+PHILEMON
+
+Yet he bids, our claims adjusting,
+Homestead fair in his new land.
+
+BAUCIS
+
+Earth, from water saved, mistrusting,
+On thine own height take thy stand.
+
+PHILEMON
+
+Let us, to the chapel wending,
+Watch the sun's last rays subside;
+Let us ring, and prayerful bending,
+In our father's God confide!
+
+PALACE
+
+_Spacious ornamental garden; broad, straight canal._ FAUST
+_in extreme old age, walking about, meditating._
+
+LYNCEUS, THE WARDER (_through a speaking trumpet_)
+
+The sun sinks down, the ships belated
+Rejoicing to the haven steer.
+A stately galley, deeply freighted,
+On the canal, now draweth near;
+Her chequer'd flag the breeze caresses
+The masts unbending bear the sails:
+Thee now the grateful seaman blesses,
+Thee at this moment Fortune hails.
+               [_The bell rings on the downs._]
+
+FAUST (_starting_)
+
+Accursed bell! Its clamor sending,
+Like spiteful shot it wounds mine ear!
+Before me lies my realm unending;
+Vexation dogs me in the rear;
+For I, these envious chimes still hearing,
+Must at my narrow bounds repine;
+The linden grove, brown but thence peering,
+The moldering church, these are not mine.
+Refreshment seek I, there repairing?
+Another's shadow chills my heart,
+A thorn, nor foot nor vision sparing,--
+O far from hence could I depart!
+
+WARDER (_as above_)
+
+How, wafted by the evening gales,
+Blithely the painted galley sails;
+On its swift course, how richly stored!
+Chest, coffer, sack, are heaped aboard.
+_A splendid galley, richly and brilliantly laden with the
+produce of foreign climes._
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. THE THREE MIGHTY COMRADES
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Here do we land,
+ Here are we now.
+ Hail to our lord;
+ Our patron, thou!
+
+(_They disembark. The goods are brought ashore._)
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+So have we proved our worth--content
+If we our patron's praises earn:
+With but two ships abroad we went,
+With twenty we to port return.
+By our rich lading all may see
+The great successes we have wrought.
+Free ocean makes the spirit free:
+There claims compunction ne'er a thought!
+A rapid grip there needs alone;
+A fish, a ship, on both we seize.
+Of three if we the lordship own,
+Straightway we hook a fourth with ease,
+Then is the fifth in sorry plight--
+Who hath the power, has still the right;
+The _What_ is asked for, not the _How_.
+Else know I not the seaman's art:
+War, commerce, piracy, I trow,
+A trinity, we may not part.
+
+THE THREE MIGHTY COMRADES
+
+ No thank and hail;
+ No hail and thank!
+ As were our cargo
+ Vile and rank!
+ Disgust upon
+ His face one sees
+ The kingly wealth
+ Doth him displease!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Expect ye now
+ No further pay;
+ For ye your share
+ Have ta'en away.
+
+THE THREE MIGHTY COMRADES
+
+ To pass the time,
+ As was but fair;
+ We all expect
+ An equal share.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ First range in order,
+ Hall on hall,
+ These wares so costly,
+ One and all!
+ And when he steps
+ The prize to view,
+ And reckons all
+ With judgment true,
+ He'll be no niggard;
+ As is meet,
+ Feast after feast
+ He'll give the fleet,
+ The gay birds come with morning tide;
+ Myself for them can best provide.
+             [_The cargo is removed._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+With gloomy look, with earnest brow
+Thy fortune high receivest thou.
+Thy lofty wisdom has been crowned;
+Their limits shore and sea have bound;
+Forth from the shore, in swift career,
+O'er the glad waves, thy vessels steer;
+Speak only from thy pride of place,
+Thine arm the whole world doth embrace.
+Here it began; on this spot stood
+The first rude cabin formed of wood;
+A little ditch was sunk of yore
+Where plashes now the busy oar.
+Thy lofty thought, thy people's hand,
+Have won the prize from sea and land.
+From here too--
+
+FAUST
+
+              That accursed here!
+It weighs upon me! Lend thine ear;--
+To thine experience I must tell,
+With thrust on thrust, what wounds my heart;
+To bear it is impossible--
+Nor can I, without shame, impart:
+The old folk there above must yield;
+Would that my seat those lindens were;
+Those few trees not mine own, that field,
+Possession of the world impair.
+There I, wide view o'er all to take,
+From bough to bough would scaffolds raise;
+Would, for the prospect, vistas make
+On all that I have done to gaze;
+To see at once before me brought
+The master-work of human thought,
+Where wisdom hath achieved the plan,
+And won broad dwelling-place for man.--
+Thus are we tortured;--in our weal,
+That which we lack, we sorely feel!
+The chime, the scent of linden-bloom,
+Surround me like a vaulted tomb.
+The will that nothing could withstand,
+Is broken here upon the sand:
+How from the vexing thought be safe?
+The bell is pealing, and I chafe!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Such spiteful chance, 'tis natural,
+Must thy existence fill with gall.
+Who doubts it! To each noble ear,
+This clanging odious must appear;
+This cursed ding-dong, booming loud,
+The cheerful evening-sky doth shroud,
+With each event of life it blends,
+From birth to burial it attends,
+Until this mortal life doth seem,
+Twixt ding and dong, a vanished dream!
+
+FAUST
+
+Resistance, stubborn selfishness,
+Can trouble lordliest success,
+Till, in deep angry pain one must
+Grow tired at last of being first!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Why let thyself be troubled here?
+Is colonizing not thy sphere?
+
+FAUST
+
+Then go, to move them be thy care!
+Thou knowest well the homestead fair,
+I've chosen for the aged pair--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We'll bear them off, and on new ground
+Set them, ere one can look around.
+The violence outlived and past,
+Shall a fair home atone at last.
+              [_He whistles shrilly._]
+
+THE THREE _enter_
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Come! straight fulfil the lord's behest;
+The fleet tomorrow he will feast.
+
+THE THREE
+
+The old lord us did ill requite;
+A sumptuous feast is ours by right.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to the spectators_)
+
+What happ'd of old, here happens too:
+Still Naboth's vineyard meets the view.
+
+                      (I _Kings_, xvi.)
+
+
+DEEP NIGHT
+
+LYNCEUS THE WARDER (_on the watch-tower singing_)
+
+ Keen vision my birth-dower,
+ I'm placed on this height,
+ Still sworn to the watch-tower,
+ The world's my delight.
+ I gaze on the distant,
+ I look on the near,
+ On moon and on planet,
+ On wood and the deer:
+ The beauty eternal
+ In all things I see;
+ And pleased with myself
+ All bring pleasure to me.
+ Glad eyes, look around ye
+ And gaze, for whate'er
+ The sight they encounter,
+ It still hath been fair!
+
+(_Pause_)
+
+Not alone for pleasure-taking
+Am I planted thus on high;
+What dire vision, horror-waking,
+From yon dark world scares mine eye!
+Fiery sparkles see I gleaming
+Through the lindens' two-fold night;
+By the breezes fanned, their beaming
+Gloweth now with fiercer light!
+Ah! the peaceful hut is burning;
+Stood its moss-grown walls for years;
+They for speedy help are yearning--
+And no rescue, none appears!
+Ah the aged folk, so kindly,
+Once so careful of the fire,
+Now, to smoke a prey, they blindly
+Perish, oh misfortune dire!
+'Mid red flames, the vision dazing,
+Stands the moss-hut, black and bare;
+From the hell, so fiercely blazing,
+Could we save the honest pair!
+Lightning-like the fire advances,
+'Mid the foliage, 'mid the branches;
+Withered boughs,--they flicker, burning,
+Swiftly glow, then fall;--ah me!
+Must mine eyes, this woe discerning,
+Must they so far-sighted be!
+Down the lowly chapel crashes
+'Neath the branches' fall and weight;
+Winding now, the pointed flashes
+To the summit climb elate.
+Roots and trunks the flames have blighted,
+Hollow, purple-red, they glow!
+
+(_Long pause. Song_)
+
+Gone, what once the eye delighted,
+With the ages long ago!
+
+FAUST (_on the balcony, toward the downs_)
+
+From above what plaintive whimper?
+Word and tone are here too late!
+Wails my warder; me, in spirit
+Grieves this deed precipitate!
+Though in ruin unexpected
+Charred now lie the lindens old,
+Soon a height will be erected,
+Whence the boundless to behold.
+I the home shall see, enfolding
+In its walls, that ancient pair,
+Who, my gracious care beholding,
+Shall their lives end joyful there.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES _and_ THE THREE (_below_)
+
+Hither we come full speed. We crave
+Your pardon! Things have not gone right!
+Full many a knock and kick we gave,
+They opened not, in our despite;
+Then rattled we and kick'd the more,
+And prostrate lay the rotten door;
+We called aloud with threat severe,
+Yet sooth we found no listening ear.
+And as in such case still befalls,
+They heard not, would not hear our calls;
+Forthwith thy mandate we obeyed,
+And straight for thee a clearance made.
+The pair--their sufferings were light,
+Fainting they sank, and died of fright.
+A stranger, harbor'd there, made show
+Of force, full soon was he laid low;
+In the brief space of this wild fray,
+From coals, that strewn around us lay,
+The straw caught fire; 'tis blazing free,
+As funeral death-pyre for the three.
+
+FAUST
+
+To my commandments deaf were ye!
+Exchange I wished, not robbery.
+For this your wild and ruthless part;--
+I curse it! Share it and depart!
+
+CHORUS
+
+The ancient saw still rings today:
+Force with a willing mind obey;
+If boldly thou canst stand the test,
+Stake house, court, life, and all the rest!
+                           [_Exeunt._]
+
+FAUST
+
+The stars their glance and radiance veil;
+Smoulders the sinking fire, a gale
+Fans it with moisture-laden wings,
+Vapor to me and smoke it brings.
+Rash mandate--rashly, too, obeyed!--
+What hither sweeps like spectral shade?
+
+
+MIDNIGHT
+
+_Four gray women enter_
+
+FIRST
+
+My name, it is Want.
+
+SECOND
+
+           And mine, it is Blame.
+
+THIRD
+
+My name, it is Care.
+
+FOURTH
+
+         Need, that is my name.
+
+THREE (_together_)
+
+The door is fast-bolted, we cannot get in;
+The owner is wealthy, we may not within.
+
+WANT
+
+There fade I to shadow.
+
+
+BLAME
+
+                 There cease I to be.
+
+NEED
+
+His visage the pampered still turneth from me.
+
+CARE
+
+Ye sisters, ye cannot, ye dare not go in;
+But Care through the key-hole an entrance may win.
+                         [CARE _disappears_.]
+
+WANT
+
+Sisters, gray sisters, away let us glide!
+
+BLAME
+
+I bind myself to thee, quite close to thy side.
+
+NEED
+
+And Need at your heels doth with yours blend her breath.[35]
+
+THE THREE
+
+Fast gather the clouds, they eclipse star on star.
+Behind there, behind, from afar, from afar,
+There comes he, our brother, there cometh he--
+Death.
+
+FAUST (_in the palace_)
+
+Four saw I come, but only three went hence.
+Of their discourse I could not catch the sense;
+There fell upon mine ear a sound like breath,
+Thereon a gloomy rhyme-word followed--Death;
+Hollow the sound, with spectral horror fraught!
+Not yet have I, in sooth, my freedom wrought;
+Could I my pathway but from magic free,
+And quite unlearn the spells of sorcery,
+Stood I, oh nature, man alone 'fore thee,
+Then were it worth the trouble man to be!
+Such was I once, ere I in darkness sought,
+And curses dire, through words with error fraught,
+Upon myself and on the world have brought;
+So teems the air with falsehood's juggling brood,
+That no one knows how them he may elude!
+If but one day shines clear, in reason's light--
+In spectral dream envelopes us the night;
+From the fresh fields, as homeward we advance--
+There croaks a bird: what croaks he? some mischance!
+Ensnared by superstition, soon and late;
+As sign and portent, it on us doth wait--
+By fear unmanned, we take our stand alone;
+The portal creaks, and no one enters,--none.
+
+(_Agitated_)
+
+Is some one here?
+
+CARE
+
+            The question prompteth, yes!
+
+FAUST
+
+What art thou then?
+
+CARE
+
+            Here, once for all, am I.
+
+FAUST
+
+Withdraw thyself!
+
+CARE
+
+             My proper place is this.
+
+FAUST (_first angry, then appeased. Aside_)
+
+Take heed, and speak no word of sorcery.
+
+CARE
+
+ Though by outward ear unheard,
+ By my moan the heart is stirred;
+ And in ever-changeful guise,
+ Cruel force I exercise;
+ On the shore and on the sea,
+ Comrade dire hath man in me
+ Ever found, though never sought,
+ Flattered, cursed, so have I wrought.
+ Hast thou as yet Care never known?
+
+FAUST
+
+I have but hurried through the world, I own.
+I by the hair each pleasure seized;
+Relinquished what no longer pleased,
+That which escaped me I let go,
+I've craved, accomplished, and then craved again;
+Thus through my life I've storm'd--with might and main,
+Grandly, with power, at first; but now indeed,
+It goes more cautiously, with wiser heed.
+I know enough of earth, enough of men;
+The view beyond is barred from mortal ken;
+Fool, who would yonder peer with blinking eyes,
+And of his fellows dreams above the skies!
+Firm let him stand, the prospect round him scan,
+Not mute the world to the true-hearted man
+Why need he wander through eternity?
+What he can grasp, that only knoweth he.
+So let him roam adown earth's fleeting day;
+If spirits haunt, let him pursue his way;
+In joy or torment ever onward stride,
+Though every moment still unsatisfied!
+
+CARE
+
+ To him whom I have made mine own
+ All profitless the world hath grown:
+ Eternal gloom around him lies;
+ For him suns neither set nor rise;
+ With outward senses perfect, whole,
+ Dwell darknesses within his soul;
+ Though wealth he owneth, ne'ertheless
+ He nothing truly can possess.
+ Weal, woe, become mere phantasy;
+ He hungers 'mid satiety;
+ Be it joy, or be it sorrow,
+ He postpones it till the morrow;
+ Of the future thinking ever,
+ Prompt for present action never.
+
+FAUST
+
+Forbear! Thou shalt not come near me!
+I will not hear such folly. Hence!
+Avaunt! This evil litany
+The wisest even might bereave of sense.
+
+CARE
+
+ Shall he come or go? He ponders;--
+ All resolve from him is taken;
+ On the beaten path he wanders,
+ Groping on, as if forsaken.
+ Deeper still himself he loses,
+ Everything his sight abuses,
+ Both himself and others hating,
+ Taking breath--and suffocating,
+ Without life--yet scarcely dying,
+ Not despairing--not relying.
+ Rolling on without remission:
+ Loathsome ought, and sad permission,
+ Now deliverance, now vexation,
+ Semi-sleep,--poor recreation,
+ Nail him to his place and wear him,
+ And at last for hell prepare him.
+
+FAUST
+
+Unblessèd spectres! Ye mankind have so
+Treated a thousand times, their thoughts deranging;
+E'en uneventful days to mar ye know,
+Into a tangled web of torment changing!
+'Tis hard, I know, from demons to get free,
+The mighty spirit-bond by force untying;
+Yet Care, I never will acknowledge thee,
+Thy strong in-creeping, potency defying.
+
+CARE
+
+ Feel it then now; as thou shalt find
+ When with a curse from thee I've wended:
+ Through their whole lives are mortals blind--
+ So be thou, Faust, ere life be ended!
+                      [_She breathes on him._]
+
+FAUST (_blind_)
+
+Deeper and deeper night is round me sinking;
+Only within me shines a radiant light.
+I haste to realize, in act, my thinking;
+The master's word, that only giveth might.
+Up, vassals, from your couch! my project bold,
+Grandly completed, now let all behold!
+Seize ye your tools; your spades, your shovels ply;
+The work laid down, accomplish instantly!
+Strict rule, swift diligence,--these twain
+The richest recompense obtain.
+Completion of the greatest work demands
+One guiding spirit for a thousand hands.
+
+
+GREAT FORE-COURT OF THE PALACE
+
+_Torches_
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_as overseer leading the way_)
+
+ This way! this way! Come on! come on!
+ Le Lemures, loose of tether,
+ Of tendon, sinew, and of bone,
+ Half natures, patched together!
+
+LEMURES (_in chorus_)
+
+ At thy behest we're here at hand;
+ Thy destined aim half guessing--
+ It is that we a spacious land
+ May win for our possessing.
+ Sharp-pointed stakes we bring with speed,
+ Long chains wherewith to measure.
+ But we've forgotten why indeed
+ To call us was thy pleasure.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+No artist-toil we need today:
+Sufficeth your own measure here:
+At his full length the tallest let him lay!
+Ye others round him straight the turf uprear;
+As for our sires was done of yore,
+An oblong square delve ye once more.
+Out of the palace to the narrow home--
+So at the last the sorry end must come!
+
+LEMURES (_digging, with mocking gestures_)
+
+ In youth when I did live and love,
+ Methought, it was very sweet!
+ Where frolic rang and mirth was rife,
+ Thither still sped my feet.
+
+ Now with his crutch hath spiteful age
+ Dealt me a blow full sore:
+ I stumbled o'er a yawning grave,
+ Why open stood the door!
+
+FAUST (_comes forth from the palace, groping his way by
+the door posts_)
+
+How doth the clang of spades delight my soul!
+For me my vassals toil, the while
+Earth with itself they reconcile,
+The waves within their bounds control,
+And gird the sea with stedfast zone--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+And yet for us dost work alone,
+While thou for dam and bulwark carest;
+Since thus for Neptune thou preparest,
+The water-fiend, a mighty fête;
+Before thee naught but ruin lies;
+The elements are our allies;
+Onward destruction strides elate.
+
+FAUST
+
+Inspector!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+         Here.
+
+FAUST
+
+              As many as you may,
+Bring crowds on crowds to labor here;
+Them by reward and rigor cheer;
+Persuade, entice, give ample pay!
+Each day be tidings brought me at what rate
+The moat extends which here we excavate.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_half aloud_)
+
+They speak, as if to me they gave
+Report, not of a moat--but of a grave.[36]
+
+FAUST
+
+A marsh along the mountain chain
+Infecteth what's already won;
+Also the noisome pool to drain--
+My last, best triumph then were won:
+To many millions space I thus should give,
+Though not secure, yet free to toil and live;
+Green fields and fertile; men, with cattle blent,
+Upon the newest earth would dwell content,
+Settled forthwith upon the firm-based hill,
+Up-lifted by a valiant people's skill;
+Within, a land like Paradise; outside,
+E'en to the brink, roars the impetuous tide,
+And as it gnaws, striving to enter there,
+All haste, combined, the damage to repair.
+Yea, to this thought I cling, with virtue rife,
+Wisdom's last fruit, profoundly true:
+Freedom alone he earns as well as life,
+Who day by day must conquer them anew.
+So girt by danger, childhood bravely here,
+Youth, manhood, age, shall dwell from year to year;
+Such busy crowds I fain would see,
+Upon free soil stand with a people free;
+Then to the moment might I say;
+Linger awhile, so fair thou art!
+Nor can the traces of my earthly day
+Through ages from the world depart!
+In the presentiment of such high bliss,
+The highest moment I enjoy--'tis this.
+
+(FAUST _sinks back, the_ LEMURES _lay hold of him and
+lay him upon the ground_.)
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Footnote 1: For lack of space, scientists and historians have been
+excluded.]
+
+[Footnote 2: The chief original sources for the life of Goethe are his
+own autobiographic writings, his letters, his diaries, and his
+conversations. Of the autobiographic writings the most important are
+(1) _Poetry and Truth from my Life_, which ends with the year 1775;
+(2) _Italian Journey_, covering the period from September, 1786, to
+June, 1788; (3) _Campaign in France_ and _Siege of Antwerp_, dealing
+with episodes of the years 1792 and 1793; (4) _Annals (Tag- und
+Jahreshefte)_, which are useful for his later years down to 1823. His
+letters, forty-nine volumes in all, and his diaries, thirteen volumes,
+are included in the great Weimar edition of Goethe's works. His
+conversations, so far as they were recorded, have been well edited by
+W. von Biedermann, ten volumes, Leipzig, 1889-1896.]
+
+[Footnote 3: This earlier version was long supposed to be lost, but in
+1910 a copy of the original manuscript was discovered at Zürich and
+published. Its six books correspond very nearly to the first four of
+the final version.]
+
+[Footnote 4: Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.]
+
+[Footnote 5: Adapted from E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 6: Translator: E.A. Bowring. (All poems in this section
+translated by E.A. Bowring, W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin appear by
+permission of Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.)]
+
+
+[Footnote 7: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 8: Adapted from E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 9: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 10: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 11: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 12: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 13: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 14: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 15: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 16: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 17: W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.]
+
+[Footnote 18: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 19: Translators: W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.]
+
+[Footnote 20: Translators: W. E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.]
+
+[Footnote 21: The title of a lyric piece composed by Schiller in honor
+of the marriage of the hereditary prince of Weimar to the Princess
+Maria of Russia, and performed in 1804.]
+
+[Footnote 22: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 23: Translation: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 24: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 25: Translator: A. I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 26: Translator: A. I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 27: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 28: Translator: A. I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 29: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 30: Translator: A. L. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 31: Harvard Classics (Copyright P. F. Collier & Son).]
+
+[Footnote 32: Harvard Classics (Copyright P. F. Collier & Son).]
+
+[Footnote 33: Permission The Macmillan Co., New York, and G. Bell &
+Sons, Ltd., London.]
+
+[Footnote 34: Permission The Macmillan Co., New York, and G. Bell and
+Sons, Ltd., London.]
+
+[Footnote 35: Not and Tod, the German equivalents for Need and Death,
+form a rhyme. As this cannot be rendered in English, I have introduced
+a slight alteration into my translation.]
+
+[Footnote 36: The play of words contained in the original cannot be
+reproduced in translation, the German for Moat being Graben, and for
+grave Grab.]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The German Classics of The Nineteenth
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The German Classics of The Nineteenth and
+Twentieth Centuries, Volume I., by Editor-in-Chief: Kuno Francke
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries,
+         Volume I.
+       Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English.
+         In Twenty Volumes.
+
+Author: Editor-in-Chief: Kuno Francke
+
+Release Date: February 17, 2004 [EBook #11123]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GERMAN CLASSICS, VOL. I. ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Stan Goodman, Jayam Subramanian and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: On the Way Toward the Grail. By Hans Thoma]
+
+
+
+The
+German Classics
+of
+The Nineteenth and
+Twentieth Centuries
+
+
+
+Masterpieces of German Literature
+Translated into English
+
+
+
+EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
+Kuno Francke, Ph.D., LL.D., Litt.D.
+
+
+
+In Twenty Volumes Illustrated
+
+
+ALBANY, N.Y.
+J.B. LYON COMPANY
+PUBLISHERS
+
+1913
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS OF VOLUME I
+
+Editor's Preface
+
+Publishers Foreword
+
+General Introduction.
+  By Richard M. Meyer
+
+The Life of Goethe.
+  By Calvin Thomas
+
+POEMS
+
+Greeting and Departure.
+  Translated by Charles Wharton Stork
+
+The Heathrose.
+  Adapted from the translation by E.A. Bowring
+
+Mahomet's Song.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Prometheus.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Wanderer's Night-Song.
+  Adapted from the translation by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Sea-Voyage.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+To the Moon.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Fisherman.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Wanderer's Night-Song.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Erl-King.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Godlike.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Mignon.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Proximity of the Beloved One.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Shepherd's Lament.
+  Translated by W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.
+
+Nature and Art
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman.
+
+Comfort in Tears.
+  Translated by W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin
+
+Epilog to Schiller's "Song of the Bell."
+  Translated by W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin
+
+Ergo Bibamus.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The Walking Bell.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Found.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+Hatem.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+Reunion.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+Procemion.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+The One and The All.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+Lines on Seeing Schiller's Skull.
+  Translated by E.A. Bowring
+
+A Legacy.
+  Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Introduction to Hermann and Dorothea.
+  By Arthur H. Palmer
+
+Harmann and Dorothea.
+  Translated by Ellen Frothingham
+
+DRAMAS
+
+Introduction to Iphigenia in Tauris.
+  By Arthur H. Palmer
+
+Iphigenia in Tauris.
+  Translated by Anna Swanwick
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Faust Legend from Marlowe to Goethe.
+  By Kuno Francke
+
+Introduction to Faust.
+  Calvin Thomas
+
+Faust (Part I).
+  Translated by Anna Swanwick
+
+Faust (Part II).
+  Translated by Anna Swanwick
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS-VOLUME I
+
+On the Way Toward the Grail. By Hans
+  Thoma _Frontispiece_
+
+Goethe. By J. Jaeger
+
+Goethe. By J. Stieler
+
+Goethe's Houses in Weimar
+
+Goethe in the Campagua. By J.H.W. Tischbein
+
+Monument to Goethe in Berlin. By Fritz Schaper
+
+Monument to Goethe in Rome. By Eberlein
+
+The Death of Goethe. By Fritz Fleischer
+
+The Heathrose. By K. Kogler
+
+Prometheus. By Titian
+
+The Fisherman and the Mermaid. By Georg Papperitz
+
+Hermann's Parents in the Doorway of the Tavern.
+  By Ludwig Richter
+
+Hermann hands to Dorothea the Linen for the Emigrants.
+  By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Mother defending Hermann. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Mother and Son. By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Emigrants in the Village. By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Parson and the Apothecary watch Dorothea. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Hermann and Dorothea meet at the Fountain. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Hermann and Dorothea under the Pear tree. By Ludwig Richter
+
+The Betrothal. By Ludwig Richter
+
+Iphigenia. By Ansehn Feuerbach
+
+The Meeting of Orestes, Iphigenia, and Pylades.
+  By Angelica, Kauffmann
+
+Iphigenia. By Max Nonnenbruch
+
+Faust and Mephistopheles. By Liezen-Mayer
+
+Margaret. By Wilhelm von Kaulbach
+
+Faust and Margaret. By Carl Becker
+
+Faust and Margaret in the Garden. By Liezen-Mayer
+
+The Death of Valentine. By Franz Simm
+
+Margaret's Downfall. By Wilhelm von Kaulbach
+
+
+EDITOR'S PREFACE
+
+It is surprising how little the English-speaking world knows of German
+literature of the nineteenth century. Goethe and Schiller found their
+herald in Carlyle; Fichte's idealistic philosophy helped to mold
+Emerson's view of life; Amadeus Hoffmann influenced Poe; Uhland and
+Heine reverberate in Longfellow; Sudermann and Hauptmann appear in the
+repertory of London and New York theatres--these brief statements
+include nearly all the names which to the cultivated Englishman and
+American of to-day stand for German literature.
+
+THE GERMAN CLASSICS OF THE NINETEENTH AND TWENTIETH CENTURIES has been
+planned to correct this narrow and inadequate view. Here for the first
+time English readers will find a panorama of the whole of German
+literature from Goethe to the present day; here for the first time
+they will find the most representative writers of each period brought
+together and exhibited by their most representative works; here for
+the first time an opportunity will be offered to form a just
+conception of the truly remarkable literary achievements of Germany
+during the last hundred years.
+
+For it is a grave mistake to assume, as has been assumed only too
+often, that, after the great epoch of Classicism and Romanticism in
+the early decades of the nineteenth century, Germany produced but
+little of universal significance, or that, after Goethe and Heine,
+there were but few Germans worthy to be mentioned side by side with
+the great writers of other European countries. True, there is no
+German Tolstoy, no German Ibsen, no German Zola--but then, is there a
+Russian Nietzsche, or a Norwegian Wagner, or a French Bismarck? Men
+like these, men of revolutionary genius, men who start new movements
+and mark new epochs, are necessarily rare and stand isolated in any
+people and at all times. The three names mentioned indicate that
+Germany, during the last fifty years, has contributed a goodly share
+even of such men. Quite apart, however, from such men of overshadowing
+genius and all-controlling power, can it be truly said that Germany,
+since Goethe's time, has been lacking in writers of high aim and
+notable attainment?
+
+It can be stated without reservation that, taken as a whole, the
+German drama of the nineteenth century has maintained a level of
+excellence superior to that reached by the drama of almost any other
+nation during the same period. Schiller's _Wallenstein_ and _Tell_,
+Goethe's _Iphigenie_ and _Faust_, Kleist's _Prinz Friedrich von
+Homburg_, Grillparzer's _Medea_, Hebbel's _Maria Magdalene_ and _Die
+Nibelungen_, Otto Ludwig's _Der Erbfoerster_, Freytag's _Die
+Journalisten_, Anzengruber's _Der Meineidbauer_, Wilbrandt's _Der
+Meister von Palmyra_, Wildenbruch's _Konig Heinrich_, Sudermann's
+_Heimat_, Hauptmann's _Die Weber_ and _Der arme Heinrich_,
+Hofmannsthal's _Elektra_, and, in addition to all these, the great
+musical dramas of Richard Wagner--this is a century's record of
+dramatic achievement of which any nation might be proud. I doubt
+whether either the French or the Russian or the Scandinavian stage of
+the nineteenth century, as a whole, comes up to this standard.
+Certainly, the English stage has nothing which could in any way be
+compared with it.
+
+That German lyric verse of the last hundred years should have been
+distinguished by beauty of structure, depth of feeling, and wealth of
+melody, is not to be wondered at if we remember that this was the
+century of the revival of folk-song, and that it produced such
+song-composers as Schubert and Schumann and Robert Franz and Hugo Wolf
+and Richard Strauss. But it seems strange that, apart from Heine, even
+the greatest of German lyric poets, such as Platen, Lenau, Moerike,
+Annette von Droste, Geibel, Liliencron, Dehmel, Muenchhausen, Rilke,
+should be so little known beyond the borders of the Fatherland.
+
+The German novel of the past century was, for a long time,
+unquestionably inferior to both the English and the French novel of
+the same epoch. But in the midst of much that is tiresome and involved
+and artificial, there stand out, even in the middle of the century,
+such masterpieces of characterization as Otto Ludwig's _Zwischen
+Himmel und Erde_ or Wilhelm Raabe's _Der Hungerpastor_, such
+delightful revelations of genuine humor as Fritz Reuter's _Ut mine
+Stromtid_, such penetrating studies of social conditions as Gustav
+Freytag's _Soll und Haben_. And during the last third of the century
+there has clearly developed a new, forcible, original style of German
+novel writing. Seldom has the short story been handled more skilfully
+and felicitously than by such men as Paul Heyse, Gottfried Keller, C.
+F. Meyer, Theodor Storm. Seldom has the novel of tragic import and
+passion been treated with greater refinement and delicacy than in such
+works as Fontane's _Effi Briest_, Ricarda Huch's _Ludolf Ursleu_,
+Wilhelm von Polenz's _Der Buettnerbauer_, or Ludwig Thoma's _Andreas
+Voest_. And it may be doubted whether, at the present moment, there is
+any country where the novel is represented by so many gifted writers
+or exhibits such exuberant vitality, such sturdy truthfulness, such
+seriousness of purpose, or such a wide range of imagination as in
+contemporary Germany.
+
+All these dramatists, lyric poets, and novelists, and with them not a
+few essayists, philosophers, orators, and publicists,[1] of the
+nineteenth and twentieth centuries will speak in the following volumes
+to America and other countries of the English language. They have been
+arranged, in the main, chronologically. The first three volumes have
+been given to the mature work of Goethe and Schiller--time-tested and
+securely niched. Volumes IV and V contain the principal Romanticists,
+including Fichte and Schelling; Volume VI brings Heine, Grillparzer,
+and Beethoven to view;
+
+Volume VII, Hegel and Young Germany; Volume VIII, Auerbach, Gotthelf,
+and Fritz Reuter; Volume IX, Hebbel and Ludwig; Volume X, Bismarck,
+Moltke, Lassalle. Of the second half of the collection there might be
+singled out: Volume XIV (Gottfried Keller and C.F. Meyer); Volume XV
+(Schopenhauer, Wagner, Nietzsche, Emperor William II.); Volume XVIII
+(Gerhart Hauptmann, Detlev von Liliencron, Richard Dehmel). The last
+two volumes will be devoted to the most recent of contemporary authors.
+
+The editors have been fortunate in associating with themselves a
+notable number of distinguished contributors from many universities
+and colleges in this country and abroad. A general introduction to the
+whole series has been written by Professor Richard M. Meyer of the
+University of Berlin. The last two volumes will be in charge of
+Professor Julius Petersen of the University of Basel. The
+introductions to Goethe and Schiller have been prepared by Professor
+Calvin Thomas, of Columbia University; that to the Romantic
+Philosophers by Professor Frank Thilly, of Cornell University; that to
+Richard Wagner by Professor W. R. Spalding, of Harvard University.
+And, similarly, every important author in this collection will be
+introduced by some authoritative and well known specialist.
+
+The crux of the whole undertaking lies in the correctness and adequacy
+of the translations. How difficult, if not impossible, a really
+satisfactory translation is, especially in lyric poetry, no one
+realizes more clearly than the editors. Their only comfort is that
+they have succeeded in obtaining the assistance of many well trained
+and thoroughly equipped scholars, among them such names of poets as
+Hermann Hagedorn, Percy MacKaye, George Sylvester Viereck, and
+Martin Schuetze.
+
+Kuno Francke.
+
+
+PUBLISHERS' FOREWORD
+
+The German Classics is the first work issued by The German Publication
+Society in pursuance of a comprehensive plan to open to the
+English-speaking people of the world the treasures of German thought
+and achievement in Literature, Art and Science.
+
+In the production of this monumental work the thanks and appreciation
+of the Publishers are especially due to Hugo Reisinger, Esq., whose
+loyal support and constant encouragement have made possible its
+publication.
+
+
+General Introduction
+
+By Richard M. Meyer, Ph.D. Professor of German Literature, University
+of Berlin.
+
+Men formerly pictured the origin and development of a literature as an
+order less play of incalculable forces; out of a seething chaos forms
+more or less definite arose, and then, one day, behold! the literary
+earth was there, with sun and moon, water and mountains, animals and
+men. This conception was intimately connected with that of the origin
+of individual literary compositions. These likewise--since the new
+"theory of genius," spreading from England, had gained recognition
+throughout the whole of Europe, especially in those countries speaking
+the Germanic languages--were imagined to be a mere succession of
+inspirations and even of improvisations. This view of the subject can
+no longer be held either wholly or in part, though in the origin and
+growth of literature, as in every other origin and development, much
+manifestly remains that is still incomprehensible and incalculable.
+But even as regards the individual literary work, writers
+themselves--as latterly Richard Dehmel--have laid almost too strong an
+emphasis on the element of conscious deliberation. And concerning the
+whole literary product of an individual, which seems to offer the most
+instructive analogies to the literary achievement of a people, we
+received a short time ago a remarkable opinion from Carl Spitteler. He
+asserts that he is guided in his choice of definite styles and
+definite forms by an absolutely clear purpose; that he has, for
+example, essayed every kind of metre which could possibly be suited to
+his "cosmic" epic, or that he has written a novelette solely in order
+to have once written a novelette. Although in these confessions, as
+well as in Edgar Allen Poe's celebrated _Poet's Art_, self-delusion
+and pleasure in the paradoxical may very likely be mingled, it still
+remains true that such dicta as these point to certain peculiarities
+in the development of literatures. Experiments with all kinds of
+forms, imitation of certain literary _genres_ without intrinsic
+necessity, and deliberate selection of new species, play a larger part
+in the history of modern German literature than people for a long time
+wished to admit. It is true, however, that all this experimenting,
+imitating, and speculating, in the end serves a higher necessity, as
+well in the poet of genius as in a great literature.
+
+Three kinds of forces virtually determine the general trend of all
+artistic development as, indeed, of all other forms of
+evolution--forces which constitute the sum total of those that we
+comprehend under the joint name of _tradition_, a sum total of
+progressive tendencies which we will designate as _esthetic ideals_,
+and, mediating between the two, the _typical development of the
+individuals themselves_--above all, naturally, individuals of genius
+who really create literature.
+
+These powers are present everywhere, but in very different proportion.
+Characteristic of Romance literatures and also of the English, is the
+great predominance of the conservative elements. Thus not only is the
+literature of the constitutional mother-country democratic, but also
+the literature of France, otherwise so decidedly aristocratic: a
+majority dictates its laws to the distinguished individual and is
+inclined to ostracize him, if too headstrong, and exile him from the
+"Republic of Letters." This, for instance, is what happened to Lord
+Byron among the British. On the other hand, German literature, like
+Germanic literatures in general, is disposed to concede, at least at
+times, a dictatorial leadership to the individual, even at the cost of
+tradition--as, for example, to a Klopstock, a Goethe, or a Richard
+Wagner. But, in exchange, the leader is often forced to uphold his
+power, no matter how much it may have been due to his achievements, by
+coercive measures--as, again for example, by means of a praetorian
+guard of partisans, such as Klopstock first created for himself in the
+Goettinger "Hain," but which was most effectively organized by Wagner,
+and such as Victor Hugo, imitating the German model, possessed in the
+Young Guard which applauded _Hernani_. Another method of enforcing his
+mastery is the organization of a systematic reign of terror,
+consisting of bitter satires, such as Schiller and Goethe (after the
+model of Pope) founded in the _Xenien_, and the Romanticists
+established in many different forms--satires much more personal and
+much better aimed than was the general sort of mockery which the
+Romance or Romanized imitators of Horace flung at Bavius and Maevius.
+In saying all this, however, we have at the same time made it clear
+that the power and influence of the individual of genius receives much
+more positive expression in German literature than in those which
+produced men like Corneille, Calderon, yes, even Dante and
+Shakespeare. German literary history is, more than any other, occupied
+with the _Individual_.
+
+If we now try rapidly to comprehend to what extent each one of the
+already enumerated literary forces has participated in the development
+of modern German literature, we must, first of all, emphasize the fact
+that here the question is, intrinsically, one of construction--of a
+really new creation.
+
+German literature since 1700 is not simply the continuation of former
+literature with the addition of radical innovations, as is the case
+with the literature of the same period in England, but was
+systematically constructed on new theories--if it may be said that
+nature and history systematically "construct." A destruction, a
+suspension of tradition, had taken place, such as no other civilized
+nation has ever experienced in a like degree--in which connection the
+lately much-disputed question as to whether the complete decay dates
+from the time of the Thirty Years' War or the latter merely marks the
+climax of a long period of decadence may be left to take care of
+itself. In any event, about the year 1700 the literature of Germany
+stood lower than that of any other nation, once in possession of a
+great civilization and literature, has ever stood in recent times.
+Everything, literally everything, had to be created _de novo_; and it
+is natural that a nation which had to struggle for its very existence,
+for which life itself had become a daily questioning of fate, could at
+first think of renovation only through its conservative forces. Any
+violent commotion in the religious or political, in the economic or
+social, sphere, as well as in the esthetic, might prove fatal, or at
+least appear to be so.
+
+The strongest conservative factor of a literature is the language.
+Upon its relative immutability depends, in general, the possibility of
+literary compositions becoming the common possession of many
+generations--depends absolutely all transmission. Especially is poetic
+language wont to bear the stamp of constancy; convenient formulas,
+obvious rhymes, established epithets, favorite metaphors, do not, in
+periods of exhaustion, afford much choice in the matter of
+phraseology. On the other hand, however, a new tenor of thought, often
+enough a new tenor of feeling, is continually pressing forward to
+demand a medium of expression. This battle between the established
+linguistic form and the new content gives rise to charming, but at the
+same time alarming, conflicts. In the seventeenth century it was felt
+strongly how much the store of linguistic expression had diminished,
+partly on account of a violent and careless "working of the mine,"
+which made prodigal use of the existing medium, as was the case in the
+prose of Luther and, above all, of Johann Fischart and his
+contemporaries; partly on account of a narrow confinement to a small
+number of ideas and words, as in the church hymns.
+
+This impoverishment of the language the century of the great war tried
+to remedy in two opposite ways. For the majority the easiest solution
+was to borrow from their richer neighbors, and thus originated that
+affectation of all things foreign, which, in speaking, led to the most
+variegated use and misuse of foreign words. Patriotically-minded men,
+on the contrary, endeavored to cultivate the purity of their mother
+tongue the while they enriched it; this, above all, was the ambition
+of the various "Linguistic Societies." Their activity, though soon
+deprived of a wide usefulness by pedantry and a clannish spirit,
+prepared the way for great feats of linguistic reorganization. Through
+Christian Wolff a philosophic terminology was systematically created;
+from Pietism were received new mediums of expression for intimate
+conditions of the soul; neither must we quite overlook the fact that
+to some extent a new system of German titles and official designations
+was associated with the new institutions of the modern state. More
+important, however, than these details--which might have been
+accomplished by men like Johann Gottfried Herder, Immanuel Kant and
+Goethe; like the statesman, Heinrich Freiherr von Stein; and the
+warrior, General von Scharnhorst--was this fact that, in general, an
+esthetic interest had been again awakened in the language, which too
+long had served as a mere tool. Also the slowly developing study of
+language was of some help; even the falsest etymology taught people to
+look upon words as organisms; even the most superficial grammar, to
+observe broad relationships and parallel formations. So, then, the
+eighteenth century could, in the treatment of the mother tongue, enter
+upon a goodly heritage, of which for a long time Johann Christoph
+Gottsched might not unjustly be counted the guardian. It was a
+thoroughly conservative linguistic stewardship, which received
+gigantic expression in Adelung's Dictionary--with all its
+deficiencies, the most important German dictionary that had been
+compiled up to that time. Clearness, intelligibleness, exactitude were
+insisted upon. It was demanded that there should be a distinct
+difference between the language of the writer and that in everyday
+use, and again a difference between poetic language and prose; on the
+other hand, great care had to be taken that the difference should
+never become too great, so that common intelligibility should not
+suffer. Thus the new poetic language of Klopstock, precisely on
+account of its power and richness, was obliged to submit to the
+bitterest mockery and the most injudicious abuse from the partisans of
+Gottsched. As the common ideal of the pedagogues of language, who were
+by no means merely narrow-minded pedants, one may specify that which
+had long ago been accomplished for France--namely, a uniform choice of
+a stock of words best suited to the needs of a clear and luminous
+literature for the cultivated class, and the stylistic application of
+the same. Two things, above all, were neglected: they failed to
+realize (as did France also) the continual development of a healthy
+language, though the ancients had glimpses of this; and they failed
+(this in contrast to France) to comprehend the radical differences
+between the various forms of literary composition. Therefore the
+pre-classical period still left enough to be done by the classical.
+
+It was Klopstock who accomplished the most; he created a new, a lofty
+poetic language, which was to be recognized, not by the use of
+conventional metaphors and swelling hyperboles, but by the direct
+expression of a highly exalted mood. However, the danger of a forced
+overstraining of the language was combatted by Christoph Martin
+Wieland, who formed a new and elegant narrative prose on Greek,
+French, and English models, and also introduced the same style into
+poetic narrative, herein abetted by Friedrich von Hagedorn as his
+predecessor and co-worker. Right on the threshold, then, of the great
+new German literature another mixture of styles sprang up, and we see,
+for example, Klopstock strangely transplanting his pathos into the
+field of theoretical researches on grammar and metrics, and Wieland
+not always keeping his irony aloof from the most solemn subjects. But
+beside them stood Gotthold Ephraim Lessing who proved himself to be
+the most thoughtful of the reformers of poetry, in that he emphasized
+the divisions--especially necessary for the stylistic development of
+German poetry--of literary categories and the arts. The most
+far-reaching influence, however, was exercised by Herder, when he
+preached that the actual foundation of all poetic treatment of
+language was the individual style, and exemplified the real nature of
+original style, i. e., inwardly-appropriate modes of expression, by
+referring, on the one hand, to the poetry of the people and, on the
+other, to Shakespeare or the Bible, the latter considered as a higher
+type of popular poetry.
+
+So the weapons lay ready to the hand of the dramatist Lessing, the
+lyric poet Goethe, and the preacher Herder, who had helped to forge
+them for their own use; for drama, lyrics, and oratory separate
+themselves quite naturally from ordinary language, and yet in their
+subject matter, in the anticipation of an expectant audience, in the
+unavoidable connection with popular forms of speech, in singing, and
+the very nature of public assemblies, they have a basis that prevents
+them from becoming conventional. But not quite so favorable was the
+condition of the different varieties of narrative composition. Here a
+peculiarly specific style, such as the French novel especially
+possesses, never reached complete perfection. The style of Wieland
+would necessarily appear too light as soon as the subject matter of
+the novel became more intimate and personal; that of the imitators of
+Homer necessarily too heavy. Perhaps here also Lessing's sense of
+style might have furnished a model of permanent worth, in the same way
+that he furnished one for the comedy and the didactic drama, for the
+polemic treatise and the work of scientific research. For is not the
+tale of the three rings, which forms the kernel of _Nathan the Wise_,
+numbered among the great standard pieces of German elocution, in spite
+of all the contradictions and obscurities which have of late been
+pointed out in it, but which only the eye of the microscopist can
+perceive? In general it is the "popular philosophers" who have, more
+than any one else, produced a fixed prose style; as a reader of good
+but not exclusively classical education once acknowledged to me that
+the German of J.J. Engel was more comprehensible to him and seemed
+more "modern" than that of Goethe. As a matter of fact, the narrator
+Goethe, in the enchanting youthful composition of _Werther_, did
+venture very close to the lyrical, but in his later novels his style
+at times dangerously approached a dry statement of facts, or a
+rhetorically inflated declamation; and even in _The Elective
+Affinities_, which stands stylistically higher than any of his other
+novels, he has not always avoided a certain stiltedness that forms a
+painful contrast to the warmth of his sympathy for the characters. On
+the other hand, in scientific compositions he succeeded in
+accomplishing what had hitherto been unattainable--just because, in
+this case, the new language had first to be created by him.
+
+Seldom are even the great writers of the following period quite free
+from the danger of a lack-lustre style in their treatment of the
+language, above all in narrative composition. It is only in the
+present day that Thomas Mann, Jacob Wassermann, and Ricarda Huch are
+trying along different lines, but with equal zeal, to form a fixed
+individual style for the German prose-epic. The great exceptions of
+the middle period, the writers of prose-epics Jeremias Gotthelf and
+Gottfried Keller, the novelists Paul Heyse and Marie von
+Ebner-Eschenbach, the narrator of anecdotes Ludwig Anzengruber, with
+his greater predecessor Johann Peter Hebel, and his lesser
+contemporary Peter Rosegger, the portrayer of still-life Adalbert
+Stifter and a few others, have, more by a happy instinct than anything
+else, hit upon the style proper to their form of composition, lack of
+which prevents us from enjoying an endless number of prose works of
+the nineteenth century, which, as far as their subject matter goes,
+are not unimportant. In this connection I will only mention Karl
+Gutzkow's novels describing his own period, or, from an earlier time,
+Clemens Brentano's fairy tales, Friedrich Hebbel's humoresques, or
+even the rhetorically emotional historical compositions of Heinrich
+von Treitschke, found in certain parts of his work. But this lack of a
+fixed specific style spread likewise to other forms of composition;
+Schiller's drama became too rhetorical; Friedrich Rueckert's lyric
+poetry too prosaically didactic; that of Annette von Droste-Huelshoff
+often too obscure and sketchy.
+
+If, therefore, the struggle with the language was fought out
+successfully by modern German literature only on the battleground of
+the lyric (and even there, as we have seen, not without exceptions),
+on the other hand a second conservative force was placed at the
+service of the literary development with more uniform success, namely
+_Metrics_. To be sure, here again this applies only to verse, for the
+corresponding art of prose rhythm has been as good as lost to the
+Germans, in contrast to the French, and almost more so to the English.
+In prose also a conscious and systematic attempt to make an artistic
+division into paragraphs, chapters, and books, has only been made in
+recent times, above all in and since the writings of Nietzsche. For as
+far as the treatment of language in itself is concerned, German
+literature has hardly yet fully developed an artistic form; writers
+still continue to treat it far too much as a mere tool. But verse is
+felt to be an object for artistic molding, although here too the
+naturalistic dogmas of the Storm and Stress writers, of the
+Romanticists, Young Germans and Ultra-Moderns, have often shaken the
+theories upon which the artistic perfection of our poetry is based.
+
+In this regard, likewise, there was, in the seventeenth century, a
+great difficulty to be overcome. Changes in language, the effect of
+French and Italian style, the influence of music, had weakened the
+foundations of the German art of verse, which were already partly
+broken down by mechanical wear and tear. The comparatively simple
+regulation contrived by an ordinary, though clever, poet, Martin
+Opitz, proved capable of enduring for centuries; a connection was
+established between the accent of verse and natural accent, which at
+the same time, by means of more stringent rules, created barriers
+against variable accent. It was merely a question of arranging the
+words in such fashion that, without forming too great a contradiction
+to the common-place order of words, the way in which the accents were
+placed upon them should result in a regularly alternating rise and
+fall. On the whole, this principle was found to be sufficient until
+the enthusiasm of the new poetic generation demanded a closer
+connection between the poetic form and the variable conditions of the
+soul; they found a way out of the difficulty by carrying a rhythmical
+mood through a variety of metrical divisions, and thus came upon the
+"free rhythms." From whatever source these were derived, either from
+the misunderstood poems of Pindar, from the language of the Bible or
+of the enthusiastic mystics, or from the poetic half-prose of the
+pastoral poet Salomon Gessner, they were, in any case, something new
+and peculiar, and their nature has not been grasped in the least
+degree by the French in their "vers libres," or at any rate only since
+the half-Germanic Fleming Verhaeren. They received an interesting
+development through Goethe and Heinrich Heine, while most of the other
+poets who made use of them, even the greatest one, Novalis, often
+deteriorated either into a regular, if rhymeless, versification, or
+into a pathetic, formless prose.
+
+Another method of procuring new metrical mediums of expression for the
+new wealth of emotions was to borrow. Klopstock naturalized antique
+metres, or rather made them familiar to the school and to cultivated
+poets, while on the other hand Heine's derision of August von Platen's
+set form of verse was welcomed in many circles, and even the elevated
+poems of Friedrich Hoelderlin, which approached the antique form,
+remained foreign to the people, like the experiments of Leconte de
+Lisle in France; in Italy it fared otherwise with Carducci's _Odi
+barbare_. Only one antique metre became German, in the same sense that
+Shakespeare had become a German poet; this was the hexameter, alone or
+in connection with the pentameter; for the ratio of its parts to one
+another, on which everything depends in higher metrics, corresponded,
+to some extent, to that of the German couplets. For the same reason
+the sonnet--not, however, without a long and really bitter fight--was
+able to win a secure place in German reflective lyric poetry; indeed
+it had already been once temporarily in our possession during the
+seventeenth century. Thus two important metres had been added to
+German poetry's treasure house of forms: first, the hexameter for a
+continuous narrative of a somewhat epic character, even though without
+high solemnity--which Goethe alone once aspired to in his
+_Achilleis_--and also for shorter epigrammatic or didactic
+observations in the finished manner of the distich; second, the sonnet
+for short mood-pictures and meditations. The era of the German
+hexameter seems, however, to be over at present, while, on the
+contrary, the sonnet, brought to still higher perfection by Platen,
+Moritz von Strachwitz and Paul Heyse, still exercises its old power of
+attraction, especially over poets with a tendency toward Romance art.
+However, both hexameter or distich and sonnet have become, in Germany,
+pure literary forms of composition. While in Italy the sonnet is still
+sung, we are filled with astonishment that Brahms should have set to
+music a distich--_Anacreon_. Numerous other forms, taken up
+principally by the Romantic school and the closely related "Exotic
+School," have remained mere literary playthings. For a certain length
+of time the ghasel seemed likely to be adopted as a shell to contain
+scattered thoughts, wittily arranged, or (almost exclusively by
+Platen) also for mood-pictures; but without doubt the undeservedly
+great success of Friedrich von Bodenstedt's _Mirza Schaffy_ has cast
+permanent discredit on this form. The favorite stanza of Schiller is
+only one of the numerous strophe forms of our narrative or reflective
+lyric; it has never attained an "ethos" peculiar to itself.
+Incidentally, the French alexandrines were the fashion for a short
+time after Victor Hugo's revival of them was revivified by Ferdinand
+Freiligrath, and were recently used with variations by Carl Spitteler
+(which, however, he denies) as a foundation for his epic poems. So,
+too, the "Old German rhymed verse" after the manner of Hans Sachs,
+enjoyed a short popularity; and one saw virtuosos playing with the
+canzone or the makame. On the whole, however, German lyric poetry is
+rather made up of simple formations in the style of the folk-song,
+especially since the important rhythmic transformation of this
+material by Heine created new possibilities for accommodating the
+inner form to new subject matter without conspicuously changing the
+outer form. For two great simplifying factors have, since Goethe, been
+predominant in protecting our lyric poetry from unfruitful
+artificiality; the influence of the folk-song and the connection with
+music have kept it more full of vital energy than the too literary
+lyric poetry of the French, and richer in variety than the too
+cultivated lyric of the English. Whoever shut the door on the
+influences spoken of, as did Franz Grillparzer or Hebbel, and, in a
+different way, Annette von Droste-Huelshoff or Heinrich Leuthold, at
+the same time nullified a good part of his efficiency.
+
+The drama almost exclusively assumed a foreign, though kindred, form
+as a garb for the more elevated styles of composition: namely, the
+blank verse of the English stage, which Lessing's _Nathan the Wise_
+had popularized and A.W. Schlegel's Shakespeare had rendered
+omnipotent, and which Schiller forced upon his successors. The
+Romanticists, by playing unsuccessfully with different forms, as in
+Ludwig Tieck's _Octavianus_, or Immerman's _Alexis_, or by adopting
+pure antique or Spanish metres, attempted in vain to free themselves
+from the restraint of form, the great danger of which consisted in its
+similarity to common-place sentence construction, so that the verse
+ran the risk either of becoming prosaic, or else, in trying forcibly
+to avoid this, of growing bombastic. An escape was provided by
+inserting, in moments of emotion, a metre of a more lyrical quality
+into the uniform structure of the usual vehicle of dramatic dialogue,
+particularly when partaking of the nature of a monologue; as Goethe
+did, for example, in the "Song of the Fates" in _Iphigenia_, that most
+metrically perfect of all German dramatic poems, and as Schiller
+continued to do with increased boldness in the songs introduced into
+_Mary Stuart_. Perhaps the greatest perfection in such use of the
+principle of the "free rhythm" as applied to the drama, was reached by
+Franz Grillparzer in the _Golden Fleece_, on the model of certain
+fragments by Goethe, such as the _Prometheus_. On the other hand, the
+interesting experiments in the _Bride of Messina_ are of more
+importance for the development of the opera into a work of art
+complete in itself, than for that of the drama. In general, however,
+it is to be remarked as a peculiarity of modern German drama, that it
+seeks to escape from monotony, which the French classical theatre
+hardly ever succeeded in avoiding, by calling in the aid of the other
+arts. Plastic art is often employed for scenic arrangement, and music
+to produce effects on and behind the stage. Both were made use of by
+Schiller; and it was under his influence that they were tried by
+Goethe in his later period--though we find a remarkable sporadic
+appearance of them even as early as _Goetz_ and _Klavigo_. The mastery
+which Grillparzer also attained in this respect has been striven after
+by his fellow countrymen with some degree of success: as, for example,
+by Ferdinand Raimund, by Ludwig Anzengruber, and also by Friedrich
+Halm and Hugo von Hofmannsthal.
+
+Besides blank verse, the only other garb in vogue for the serious
+drama was prose: this was not only used for realistic pictures of
+conditions of a decidedly cheerful type (since Lessing had introduced
+the _bourgeois_ dramas of Diderot into Germany), but also for pathetic
+tragedies, the vital power of which the lack of stylistic disguising
+of language was supposed to increase. This was the form employed in
+the Storm and Stress drama, and therefore in the prison scene of
+_Faust_, as also in Schiller's youthful dramas, and again we find it
+adopted by Hebbel and the Young Germans, and by the naturalistic
+school under the leadership of Ibsen. The Old German rhymed verse
+found only a temporary place between these two forms. It was glorified
+and made almost sacrosanct by having been used for the greatest of our
+dramas, Goethe's _Faust_; Wildenbruch in particular tried to gain new
+effects with it. Other attempts also went hand in hand with
+deeper-reaching efforts to reconstruct the inner form of the drama;
+thus the tendency to a veiled polyphony of language in the folk-scenes
+of Christian Dietrich Grabbe and in all the plays of Heinrich von
+Kleist; this in Hofmannsthal's _Oedipus_ led to regular choruses, of
+quite a different type, however, from those of the _Bride of Messina_.
+Gerhart Hauptmann's _Weavers_ and _Florian Geyer_ may be considered
+the culminating points of this movement, in spite of their apparently
+entirely prosaic form.
+
+Modern German drama, which in its peculiar style is still largely
+unappreciated because it has always been measured by its real or
+supposed models, is, together with the free-rhythm lyric, the greatest
+gift bestowed upon the treasure of forms of the world-literature by
+the literature of Germany which has so often played the part of
+recipient.
+
+On the other hand, when speaking of the development of narrative
+prose, we should remember what we have already accomplished in that
+line. The "Novelle" alone has attained a fixed form, as a not too
+voluminous account of a remarkable occurrence. It is formally
+regulated in advance by the absolute domination of a decisive
+incident--as, for example, the outbreak of a concealed love in Heyse,
+or the moment of farewell in Theodor Storm. All previous incidents are
+required to assist in working up to this climax; all later ones are
+introduced merely to allow its echo to die away. In this austerity of
+concentration the German "Novelle," the one rigidly artistic form of
+German prose, is related to the "Short Story" which has been so
+eagerly heralded in recent times, especially by America. The "Novelle"
+differs, however, from this form of literary composition, which
+Maupassant cultivated with the most masterly and unrivaled success, by
+its subordination to a climax; whereas the Short Story, in reality, is
+usually a condensed novel, that is to say, the history of a
+development concentrated in a few incidents. Our literature also
+possesses such short "sketches," but the love of psychological detail
+in the development of the plot nearly always results in the greater
+diffuseness of the novel. The real "Novelle" is, however, at least as
+typical of the Germans as the Short Story is of the Americans, and in
+no other form of literary composition has Germany produced so many
+masters as in this--and in the lyric. For the latter is closely
+related to the German "Novelle" because it loves to invest the way to
+and from the culminating point with the charm produced by a certain
+mood, as the half-German Bret Harte loves to do in similar artistic
+studies, but the Russian Tschechow never indulges himself in, and the
+Frenchman Maupassant but seldom. On this account our best writers of
+"Novellen" have also been, almost without exception, eminent lyric
+poets; such were Goethe, Tieck, Eichendorff, Moerike, Keller, Heyse,
+Theodor Storm and C.F. Meyer; whereas, in the case of Marie von
+Ebner-Eschenbach, who otherwise would form an exception, even what
+appears to be a "Novelle" is in reality a "small novel."
+
+The novel, on the contrary, still enjoys in Germany the dangerous
+privilege of formlessness. In its language it varies from the vague
+lyric of romantic composition to the bureaucratic sobriety of
+mechanically-compiled studies of real life. In its outline, in the
+rhythm of its construction, in the division of its parts and the way
+in which they are brought into relief, it has, in spite of masterly
+individual performances, never attained a specific literary form, such
+as has long been possessed by the English and the French novels.
+Likewise the inclination, sanctioned by Goethe and the Romantic
+school, to interpolate specimens of the least formed half-literary
+_genres_--namely, letters and diaries--worked against the adoption of
+a fixed form, notwithstanding that this expedient augmented the
+great--often indeed too great--inner richness of the German novel.
+Thus the German novel, as well as the so justly favorite form of
+letters and diaries, is of infinitely more importance as a human or
+contemporary "document" than as a direct work of art. We have,
+however, already drawn attention to the fact that the never-failing
+efforts to clothe the novel in a more esthetically pure form have, in
+our own day, happily increased.
+
+The traditional _material_ of literary compositions is, however, also
+a conservative power, just as are language and form. The stock of
+dominating motives naturally undergoes just as many transformations as
+language or metrics; but, in both cases, what already exists has a
+determining influence on everything new, often going so far as to
+suppress the latter entirely. Customary themes preferably claim the
+interest of the reader; as, for example, in the age of religious
+pictures it would have been exceedingly hard to procure an order for a
+purely worldly painting. The artists themselves unconsciously glide
+into the usual path, and what was intended to be a world-poem flows
+off into the convenient worn channel of the love-story. But the
+vivifying and deepening power of the Germanic spirit has here, more
+than in any other domain, destroyed the opposing force of inertia.
+
+The oldest poetry is confined to such subjects as are of universal
+interest--one could also say of universal importance. War and the
+harvest, the festivals of the gods and the destinies of the tribe, are
+the subjects of song. These things retain their traditional interest
+even where a healthy communal life no longer exists. Epochs which are
+absolutely wanting in political understanding still cultivate the
+glory of Brutus in an epic or dramatic form; or those ages which can
+scarcely lay claim to a living religious interest still join in
+choruses in honor of Apollo or in honor of the Christian religion.
+Every literature carries with it a large and respectable ballast of
+sensations that are no longer felt, of objects that are no longer
+seen, culminating in the spring-songs of poets confined to their room,
+and the wine-songs of the water-drinkers. A stagnating literature, as
+that of the seventeenth century was essentially, always has an
+especially large amount of such rubbish. Poems composed for certain
+occasions, in the worst sense--that is to say, poems of congratulation
+and condolence written for money, trivial reflections and mechanical
+devotion, occupy an alarmingly large space in the lyric of this
+period. Drama is entirely confined, and the novel for the greater
+part, to the dressing up in adopted forms of didactic subject matter
+of the most general type. Men of individuality are, however, not
+altogether lacking: such were lyric poets like Andreas Gryphius and
+Paul Fleming, gnomologists like Johann Scheffler, and narrators like
+J.J. Christoffel von Grimmelshausen; but even with them the personal
+note does not dare to sound openly. The first to give free expression
+again to intimate sensations is Christian Guenther, and he arouses
+thereby contradiction, together with admiration. The court poets about
+the year 1700 work more in a negative way, i. e., by that which they
+did not express in their verses. The great merit of the pre-classical
+writers is to have created space, on the one hand, for personal
+sensations, and, on the other, for the great new thoughts of the age.
+Hagedorn, with the elegant frivolity of the man of the world,
+continued the necessary sifting of antiquated material; Albrecht von
+Haller, with the deep seriousness of the great student of nature, once
+more squarely faced the eternal problems. But the entire wealth of
+inner experience, in its most exclusively individual sense, was first
+revealed, not only to the literature of Germany but to modern
+literature in general, by Klopstock. Along this path Goethe pressed
+forward gloriously, his whole poetic work presenting, according to his
+own testimony, a single great confession. From Haller, on the
+contrary, proceeds the effort to develop a poetical style that would
+enable individuals to share in the great thoughts of the age. Lessing
+strides onward from _Minna von Barnhelm_--the first drama of
+contemporary history since the _Persians_ of AEschylus--to _Nathan the
+Wise_, herein following the lead of the "literature with a distinct
+purpose" (_Tendenz-Dichtung_) of France, and especially of Voltaire,
+otherwise antipathetic to Lessing. Lessing's great dramatic heir is
+Schiller, whose tradition is in turn carried on by Kleist, the latter
+allowing his personality to penetrate the subject matter far more even
+than either of his predecessors.
+
+But the utmost was done by Goethe, when in _Werther_ and _Goetz_, in
+_Prometheus_ or _Satyros_, but above all eventually in _Faust_, he
+lived through in advance--or, as he himself said, he "anticipated"
+(_vorfuehlte_)--the peculiar experience of the age with such intensity
+that, in the work which resulted, the individual experience became the
+direct experience of the whole generation.
+
+Out of the "reverence for nature" (_Naturfroemmigkeit_) with which he
+contemplated all created things--from "the Cedar of Lebanon to the
+hyssop which grows on the wall," from the mighty movement of the
+stream in _Mahomet_ to the bit of cheese that is weighed by the old
+woman in _Die Geschwister_--out of all comes a widening of the poetic
+horizon, the like of which had never before been seen in any age. The
+Romanticists in reality only made a watchword out of this practice of
+Goethe's when they demanded "progressive universal poetry," by which
+they meant that the poet should live through the whole experience of
+creation in his own person. In demanding this, they--as the aging
+Goethe had himself done--formed too narrow a conception of the
+personal, and rejected too absolutely the problems of politics and of
+science, so that once more a narrowing process ensued. But even in
+their own ranks this tendency was offset by the exigency of the times;
+after the wars of liberation, political and in general, poetry written
+with a purpose was actually in the ascendency. The poetry of the mood,
+like that of a Moerike, remained for a long time almost unknown on
+account of its strictly intimate character. In the success of Ernst
+von Wildenbruch we see provisionally the last victory of this sort of
+literature--which directly proclaims what is worth striving for--at
+least in its loftier form. For the contemporary novel constantly takes
+for its subject the emancipation of woman, or the fight for culture,
+the protection of the Ostmark, or the fight against alcohol.
+
+On the other hand the Romantic school has also broadened the realm of
+poetic material in a very important manner, by adding to it the
+provinces of the phantastic, the visionary, the fairy-like, and by
+giving to the symbolical an undreamed-of expansion.
+
+On the whole, modern German literature has probably a richer field
+from which to choose her material than any other literature can boast
+of. In fact it is perhaps too variegated, and thus, because of the
+richness and originality of its subject matter, allows too much
+latitude to genius. One field only in poetry, considered from the
+viewpoint of real art, is almost uncultivated. All the efforts and all
+the attempts on the part of both Catholics and Protestants have not
+succeeded in producing religious poems of any degree of importance
+since Annette von Droste-Huelshoff ceased to sing; whereas, on the
+other hand, poetry that is hostile to the church has brought to
+maturity some great productions, not only in Anzengruber or Karl
+Schoenherr, in Friedrich Theodor Vischer, in Storm, and Keller, but,
+above all, in Nietzsche. A turn in the tide that seems just now to be
+taking place is exemplified in the important epic poems of Enrica von
+Handel-Mazzetti.
+
+Finally, as the last and, in a certain sense, the strongest, pillar of
+permanency we will name the public. It is just as much a product as a
+contributing factor of literature; in both respects, however,
+preeminently important as a conservative force. The predominant and
+enduring tendencies, forms, and subjects are naturally chiefly
+conducive to the formation of a circle of "fixed subscribers" among
+the crowd of possible patrons. These subscribers, on their part, of
+course insist upon the preservation of those tendencies, forms, and
+subjects by which they are attracted. In the same way that, in
+general, a large "reading world," or a regular public for a theatre,
+or a solid community of devotees for each of the different species of
+song (as for example, the religious song, the folk-song, the student's
+song) is organized, so do important personalities call into being a
+special following of admirers, such as the partisans of Hebbel, the
+Wagnerians, and the adherents of Stefan George. But these narrow
+circles are often much more intolerant of every effort on the part of
+the master to depart from the program he has sworn to, than are
+outsiders. The history of the German public, unlike that of the
+English or French, is less a church-history than a sect-history.
+Schiller alone succeeded in becoming the national poet of his
+people--and he had his merits as well as his weaknesses to thank for
+it. Lessing is the one who comes next to him, whereas Goethe really
+reached the masses in only a few of his compositions. On the other
+hand, he made a stronger impression upon, and gave more happiness to,
+the intellectual classes than any of our poets since Klopstock. After
+him, only poets of a decidedly esoteric character, such as Stefan
+George or Friedrich Nietzsche, have had such a profound effect or one
+so capable of stirring the remoter depths of the soul. Even with Jean
+Paul the impression produced was more superficial. Latterly, however,
+periodicals, lecture-courses and clubs have replaced the
+"_caucus_"--which was formerly held by the most influential readers
+and hearers of the literary fraternities. This change has gone so far
+that the intimacy of the relations between a poet and his admirers,
+which was still possible in the early days of Hauptmann, Hofmannsthal,
+George, and Dehmel, now actually exists only for those poets who have
+not attained any special renown, such as Alfred Mombert, or, perhaps,
+we might also include Spitteler. An amalgamation of the different
+groups, which in Germany are wont to prove their love for their patron
+by combatting his supposed or real opponents rather than by actively
+fostering his artistic tendencies, might have produced a strong and
+effective reading public. But sooner can a stenographer of the Stolze
+school agree with one of the Gabelsberger system than can a votary of
+Dehmel dare to recognize the greatness in George, an admirer of
+Schnitzler see the importance of Herbert Eulenberg, or a friend of
+Gustav Frenssen acknowledge the power of Ricarda Huch. Our public, by
+its separatist taste and the unduly emphasized obstinacy of its
+antipathies, will continue for a long time still to hinder that unity,
+which, rising above even a just recognition of differences, is the
+only element which makes a great literature possible. Of course the
+critics are to be reckoned among the public, whether we consider
+criticism by professional reviewers or the more discriminating
+criticism of theatre directors, composers, etc.
+
+In all the foregoing discussion of the prevailingly conservative
+forces in the development of literature we have seen that none of
+these forces has a completely restraining effect. Language always
+undergoes a certain change, even in the most benumbed periods, since
+it is obliged to suit itself to the new demands of trade, of society,
+even of literature itself. We also saw that form and material were not
+an inert mass, but were in continual, though often slow, movement.
+Finally, though the public itself always demands essentially the same
+thing, it has, nevertheless, new variations which are forced upon it
+by its avidity for new subjects; it also demands, when it has enjoyed
+a higher artistic education (as in the days of the Classical and
+Romantic writers), perfection of technique and increase in
+specifically artistic values. Between the abiding and the progressive,
+between the conservative and revolutionary tendencies, _the typical
+development of the individual himself_ takes its place as a natural
+intermediary factor. No literary "generation" is composed of men
+actually of the same age. Beside the quite young who are merely
+panting to express themselves, stand the mature who exercise an
+esthetic discernment, even as regards their own peculiar experience;
+finally, there are also the older men who have already said their say.
+In the same way every public is made up of people of all ages. These
+make different demands of their poets; youth wishes to conquer,
+manhood to fortify, old age merely not to lose. It is self-evident
+that points of conformity are to be found between the most widely
+differing fields: as, for example, conservative tendencies are present
+in the camp of the destroyers, revolutionary tendencies in that of the
+conservatives. In other words, in every community of men, no matter of
+what description, who are united by any kind of higher interest, new
+ideals grow up out of this very community of interest. Men who happen
+to be thrown together mutually cause one another's demands to
+increase; those who work in common try to outdo one another. Out of
+their midst personalities arise, who, brought up with the loftiest
+ideals, or often spurred on by the supineness of the public, with
+passionate earnestness make what merely filled up the leisure hours of
+others the sole purpose of their lives. Thus, in Germany above all,
+the new ideal has been born again and again, constituting the
+strongest motive power which exists, besides the personality of
+genius itself.
+
+Of the greatest importance, to begin with, is the _ideal of a national
+literature itself_. Gottsched was the first in Germany, if not to
+apprehend it, at least to ponder it and to advocate it with persistent
+zeal. The literature of antiquity and the literature of France offered
+types of fixed national units. The affinity between the two as
+national units had been pointed out in France and England by means of
+the celebrated "Combat of the ancients and moderns," which also first
+gave living writers sufficient courage to think of comparing modern
+art with ancient.
+
+Gottsched presented a program which he systematically strove to carry
+out, and in which one of the most important places is given to the
+building up of an artistic theatre, after the model of the great
+civilized nations. He surely had as much right to show some
+intolerance toward the harlequin and the popular stage as Lessing (who
+supplanted him while continuing his work) had to indulge in a like
+prejudice against the classical theatre of the French. Lessing,
+however, as we have already seen, goes at the same time more deeply
+into the matter by proposing not only a systematic but also an organic
+construction of the separate _genres_, and Herder took the last step
+when he demanded an autochthonous growth--that is to say, a
+development of art out of the inner necessity of personalities on the
+one hand, and of nationalities on the other. To be sure, the great
+poets who now appeared were not included in the program, and Gottsched
+did not appreciate Haller, nor did Lessing form a correct estimate of
+Goethe, or Herder of Schiller. There is, however, a mysterious
+connection between the aspirations of the nation and the appearance
+of genius.
+
+Klopstock probably felt most directly what was wanting in the
+literature of his people, as he was also the most burning patriot of
+all our classical writers; and at the same time, as is proved by the
+_Republic of Letters_, his strange treatise on the art of poetry, he
+was the one among them who bore the most resemblance to the literary
+pedant of the old days. He is, therefore, continually occupied with
+the comparison between German and foreign art, language, and
+literature, which endeavor was continued later on and with other
+methods by A.W. Schlegel. But Herder also, in his comparison of the
+native art of Germany with the art of antiquity, of the Orient and of
+England, produced effective results; no less did Lessing, although the
+latter seeks to learn from the faults of his neighbors rather than
+from their excellencies. Goethe's criticism is dominated to such a
+degree by his absorption in the antique, and also in French and
+English general literature, that he has no understanding of national
+peculiarities when they do not conform to typical literary phenomena,
+as Uhland's lyric and Kleist's drama--two literary phenomena which we,
+nowadays, consider eminently national. The Romantic school was the
+first to try to place the conception of national literature as a whole
+on an autochthonous basis, and the scientific speculation to which
+Romanticism gave rise, has, since the Brothers Grimm, also resulted in
+serviceable rules gained from the increasingly thorough knowledge of
+language, of national development, and of social conditions. This new
+point of view reaches its climax in the attempts of Karl Muellenhoff
+and Wilhelm Scherer to trace the native literary development directly
+back to the nature and destiny of the German nation. But even as that
+proved scientifically unsuccessful, so likewise it was not feasible
+practically to establish a poetry confined to native materials, forms,
+and opinions. In vain did Tieck try to play off the youthful Goethe,
+as the only national one, against the Goethe of the Weimar period,
+which attempt many after him have repeated; or again, it was proposed
+to strike Heine out of the history of our literature as un-German--the
+last two literary events of European significance in Germany,
+according to Nietzsche. On the contrary, a comparison of German
+literature with those of foreign nations was not only necessary but
+also fruitful, as a certain exhaustion had set in, which lent an
+aftermath character to the leaders of the German "intellectual poetry"
+(_Bildungs-Poesie_) of that time. It was necessary once again to
+compare our technique, our relationship between the poet and the
+people, our participation in all the various literary _genres_ and
+problems, with the corresponding phenomena in the countries of Zola,
+Bjoernson, Tolstoy, Ibsen, and Strindberg.
+
+This, now, leads up to another question, to that concerning _poetic
+ideals_, and not only poetry in itself; the poet also becomes the
+object of interest and expectation. Every age embodies a different
+ideal, by which in all instances the already existing type and the
+loftier hopes of youth are welded into one--if we maybe allowed so to
+express it. Antiquity asked that the poet should fill the heart with
+gladness; the Middle Ages desired edification with a spiritual or a
+worldly coloring; the first centuries of modern times applied to him
+for instruction. This last ideal was still in vogue at the beginning
+of modern German literature. But gradually the conception of
+"instruction" altered. The poet of the Germanic nations had now to be
+one who could interpret the heart. He should no longer be the medium
+for conveying those matters which the didactic novel and the edifying
+lyric had treated--things valuable where knowledge of the world and
+human nature, intercourse and felicity are concerned--but he must
+become a seer again, an announcer of mysterious wisdom. "Whatever,
+unknown or unminded by others, wanders by night through the labyrinth
+of the heart"--that he must transmit to the hearer; he must allow the
+listener to share with him the gift of "being able to give expression
+to his suffering." Thus the chief task of the modern poet became "the
+reproduction of the objective world through the subjective,"
+consequently "experience." Real events, objects, manifestations must
+pass through a human soul in order to gain poetic significance, and
+upon the significance of the receiving soul, not upon the "poetic" or
+"unpoetic" nature of the subject itself, depends the poetic
+significance.
+
+With this new conception, however, new dangers are connected. Near at
+hand lies the fear of a too open declaration of the most intimate
+feelings. In many old-style poets of modern times, in Hoelderlin, in
+Kleist, Grillparzer, and Annette von Droste-Huelshoff this fear assumes
+the character of ethical aversion to baring their feelings in public.
+But near, too, lies the hunt after interesting experiences--the need
+to "experience something" at any price--which marred the life of a
+romantic poet of Brentano's talents, and also affected the conduct of
+the realist Grabbe. A new responsibility was placed upon the shoulders
+of the German poet, which rested heavily on men like Otto Ludwig, and
+on account of which writers like Hebbel or Richard Wagner thought
+themselves justified in claiming the royal privileges of the favorites
+of the gods.
+
+An entirely new method of poetic study began, which perhaps originated
+with Heinrich von Kleist: a passionate endeavor to place the whole of
+life at the service of observation or to spend it in the study of
+technique. The consequence was not seldom a nervous derangement of the
+whole apparatus of the soul, just at the moment when it should have
+been ready for its greatest performances, as in the case of Nikolaus
+Lenau; however, it also frequently resulted in an endlessly increased
+receptivity for every experience, as in the case of Bettina von Arnim,
+Heine, or Annette von Droste, and the most recent writers.
+
+The infinitely difficult task of the modern poet is made still harder
+by the fact that, in spite of all his efforts, he, happily, seldom
+succeeds in transforming himself into, one would like to say, an
+artistically working apparatus, such as Ibsen very nearly became; not,
+however, without deploring the fact at the close of his life. The
+German poet in particular has too strong a lyrical inheritance not to
+reecho the impressions _directly_ received by his heart. The struggle
+between the demands of a purely artistic presentation of reality,
+i. e., one governed exclusively by esthetic rules, and its sympathetic
+rendering, constitutes the poetic tragedy of most of our "naturalistic
+writers," and especially of the most important one among them, Gerhart
+Hauptmann. But from this general ideal of the poet, who only through
+his own experience will give to reality a true existence and the
+possibility of permanence, there follows a straining after technical
+requirements such as was formerly almost unknown. This results in an
+effort in Germany all the more strenuous in proportion to the former
+slackness regarding questions of artistic form. The peculiarities of
+the different literary _genres_ are heeded with a severity such as has
+been practised before only in antiquity or perhaps by the French.
+Poets like Detlev von Liliencron, who formerly had appeared as
+advocates of poetical frivolity, now chafed over banal aids for
+rhyming, as once Alfred de Musset had done. Friedrich Spielhagen, the
+brothers Heinrich and Thomas Mann, and Jacob Wassermann are seen to
+busy themselves with the technical questions pertaining to the
+prose-epic, no longer in a merely esthetical and easy-going fashion,
+but as though they were working out questions vital to existence; and
+truly it is bitter earnest with them where their art is concerned.
+Often, as in painting, technique becomes the principal object, and the
+young naturalism of Arno Holz and Johannes Schlaf has in all
+seriousness raised technique to a dogma, without, however, in the long
+run being able to get the upper hand of the German need of
+establishing intimate relations with the subject of the art.
+
+We must, however, at this point again remind ourselves that the
+question is not one of abstract "poets" but one of a large number of
+living _men_ who, happily, differ widely from one another. Above all,
+when considering them we must think of the typical development of the
+generations. Those for whom patriotic interests, at least in a direct
+sense, seemed to have little meaning, were always followed by
+generations patriotically inspired. The Germany of to-day hides, under
+the self-deluding appearance of a confinement to purely esthetic
+problems, a predominating and lively joy in the growth of the
+Fatherland, and naturally also in its mental broadening. To have given
+the strongest expression to this joy constitutes the historical
+significance of Gustav Frenssen, just as solicitude for its future
+inspired the muse of Wilhelm von Polenz.
+
+The preference shown to individual literary _genres_ changes in an
+almost regular order of sequence--the Swiss Bovet has even tried
+recently to lay down a regular law of alternation. Especially is the
+theatre from time to time abused for being a destructive negation of
+art, in just as lively a fashion as it is declared at other times to
+be the sole realization of the artistic ideal. As to prevailing
+temperaments, a preferably pathetic tone--as, for example, in the
+epoch of Freytag, Geibel, Treitschke--alternates with a sceptically
+satiric one--as in Fontane who (like so many writers, in Germany
+especially) did not belong to his own generation nor even to the
+immediately succeeding one, but to the next after that! With these are
+associated preferences for verse or prose; for idealism or realism and
+naturalism; a falling away from philosophy or an inclination to
+introduce it into poetry; and numerous other disguises for those
+antagonistic principles, to which Kuno Francke in a general survey of
+our literature has sought to trace back its different phases.
+
+We have now said about all that, in our opinion, seems necessary for a
+general introduction to modern German literature. For the rest, it is
+of course quite obvious that it is German--and that it is a
+literature. That it is German, is precisely why it is not exclusively
+German: for in every epoch has it not been proclaimed in accents of
+praise or of blame, until we are almost tired of hearing it, that the
+inclination to take up and appropriate foreign possessions is peculiar
+to the German nation--and to the Germanic spirit in general? Thus we
+possess special presentations of German literature considered from the
+standpoint of its antique elements, and also from that of its
+Christian elements, and we could in the same way present theses which
+would show its development from the standpoint of the Romance or of
+the English influence. And yet latterly an exactly contrary attempt
+has been made--in a spirited, if somewhat arbitrary book by Nadler,
+which consists in trying to build up the history of German literature
+entirely upon the peculiarities of the different tribes and provinces.
+For the essence of the German, nay, even of the Swabian, or Bavarian,
+or North German, or Austrian individuality, is in the long run
+nourished rather than extinguished by all foreign influences. In spite
+of this, it is of course important in the consideration of the
+eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, to observe how the French pattern
+that is at first followed almost with the unquestioned obedience
+accorded to a fixed ethical model, is confronted by the English, which
+brings about the celebrated--and probably overrated--struggle between
+Gottsched and the Swiss School. We should also notice precisely how
+the tendency of British literature toward originality--in which the
+insular peculiarities were strongly emphasized--served to increase the
+self-reliance of German literature; how a new movement in the style of
+the antique was cultivated by the classical writers; and how the
+Romantic School favored medieval-Christian tendencies--much to
+Goethe's annoyance. It is of importance likewise to note the way in
+which Young Germany learned how to gain political-literary effects
+from the new French models; and finally, how the Northern realism of
+presentation, amalgamated with Tolstoy's, Bjoernson's, Strindberg's and
+also Ibsen's ethical subjectivity, educated the naturalism of the
+Germans. It is precisely those poets that are especially characterized
+by German peculiarities who have also trained themselves in the use of
+foreign subjects and forms: thus did Uhland, Moerike, Hebbel, and all
+the Romanticists. We have already had occasion many times to call
+attention in detail to the educational effect of foreign countries.
+
+German literature is, in short, one that possesses the typical moments
+of development which mark all literatures, and which Wilhelm Scherer
+was the first to call to our notice: that is to say, it is a
+complicated organism in which the most varied tendencies cross one
+another, the most dissimilar generations of writers meet together, and
+the most remarkable events occur in the most unforeseen manner.
+
+If we should now try to get a closer view of the last and by far the
+most important factor of literature, namely, the individual writers
+themselves, this difficulty in obtaining a general view of the whole,
+this working of the different parts against one another, this pulling
+away from one another, presents itself more clearly to us here than
+anywhere else. The attempt to classify the development of our
+literature into distinct groups according to the personalities which
+compose them has been frequently made, since I, in spite of all the
+difficulties and dangers of such a hazardous enterprise, first
+undertook, in my _German Literature of the Nineteenth Century_, to
+give an historical and complete presentation of a literature which had
+as yet scarcely become historic. I can here merely refer in passing to
+my own efforts and to those of Bartels, Biese, Riemann, and
+Soergel--to name only these; for in compliance with the purpose of
+this introduction we must confine ourselves to giving a general
+comprehensive outline--although it would be easy to improve upon it if
+one went more into detail.
+
+It seems to me under these conditions that the groundlines of the
+development of our literature from 1700-1900 would be best impressed
+upon us by comparing the order of its evolution with that of the most
+"normal" poetic genius who ever lived--namely, with that of Goethe;
+and thereby we should prove its development to be an essentially
+normal one.
+
+Like all "natural geniuses" Goethe begins as an imitator, dependent
+upon others; for the poet also must first learn to speak and to walk.
+The earliest literary effort of his which we possess is the poem _On
+Christ's Descent into Hell_, which naturally seemed strange enough to
+Goethe when this long forgotten first printed specimen of his literary
+productiveness was laid before him again after he had grown old. In
+this poem traditional phrases are repeated without the addition of
+anything new and original; conventional feelings are expressed, usual
+methods are employed; all this, however, not without a certain
+moderation of expression constituting a first sign of the otherwise
+still completely concealed poetic individuality.
+
+Such is the character that the world of virtuosos also bears about the
+year 1700. The poems of Rudolf von Canitz and Johann von Besser are,
+though in entirely different spheres, just the same kind of first
+attempts of an imperfect art anxiously following foreign models as
+Goethe's first Christian poem--though truly with the tremendous
+difference that they represented the utmost that Frenchified courtly
+art could ever attain to; while Goethe's poem, on the contrary, was
+the immature sprig cut away before its time from the stem of a tree
+soon to stand in the full glory of its bloom.
+
+When now in the Leipzig period the young student discovers the poet
+within him, he first does so in the customary way: he recognizes the
+ability on his part to handle the language of the contemporary poets,
+and also perhaps to imbue it with his own personal feelings. His poems
+inserted in letters, which make a show of the elegant pretence of
+improvisation, but in reality already display a great dexterity in
+rhyming and in the use of imagery, may be compared to Hagedorn's
+poetry; but at the same time Goethe is trying to attain the serious
+tone of the "Pindarian" odes, just as Haller's stilted scholarly
+poetry conquered a place beside Hagedorn's Epicurean philosophy of
+life. The _Book of Annette_ (1767) as a whole, however, presents the
+first attempt on the part of Goethe to reach a certain completeness in
+his treatment of the poetic theme. In all his subsequent collections
+of poems the same attempt is made, it is true with increasingly rigid
+interpretation of the idea of "completeness," and in so far one is
+reminded in this connection of the theoretic intentions and
+performances of Gottsched.
+
+The "New Songs" (_Neue Lieder_) of 1770 give a lop-sided exhibition of
+the style which Leipzig and the times acts. Two great acts follow: in
+1773 comes _Goetz_; in 1774, _Werther_. And with _Goetz_ the great
+"subjects of humanity" seize possession of Goethe's poetry, as they
+had taken possession of the poetry of Germany with Lessing--as shown
+by his whole work up to _Nathan_: for Lessing, the strongest adversary
+of mere "estheticism," really accomplished what those Anacreontic
+poets had merely wished to do--or seemed to wish--and brought
+literature into close touch with life. _The Sorrows of Werther_ lays
+hold of the subjective problems of the age just as the drama of
+liberty lays hold of the objective; in them a typical character of the
+times is analyzed not without zealously making use of models--both
+innovations of Wieland! But now indeed comes the most important of
+all, that which in its greatness represents something completely new,
+although in detail Goethe had here all his teachers to teach
+him--Lessing who had written _Faust_-scenes, and Wieland who was so
+fond of placing the two souls of man side by side, and Herder who had
+an absolutely Faust-like nature; so that people have tried, with the
+exaggeration of the theorist, to hold up before us the whole _Faust_
+as a kind of dramatized portrayal of Herder! And with _Faust_ Goethe
+in German literature has reached his own time--"For his century bears
+his name!"
+
+But in the period which followed the predominating position of the
+classical writers we once more find the same parallelism of
+development. Again with Goethe's dilettante beginnings we compare a
+school of weak imitators, which unhappily was protected by Goethe
+himself (and also by Schiller in his literary organs); again with the
+Strassburg period and its Storm and Stress we compare Romanticism,
+which is characterized by its German nationalism and its antique
+tendencies, which is sentimental and philosophical, critical and
+programmatical like the time of _Goetz_, which latter surely must have
+had a strong effect on men like Tieck and Arnim. And out of the
+sentiment for his country, which, in Goethe's whole literary career,
+is peculiar only to the poetry of the Strassburg period, tendencies
+develop like those which manifest themselves in the literature of the
+Wars of Liberation, of the Swabian School, in the older poetry of
+political conflict--in short, like all those tendencies which we
+connect with Ludwig Uhland's name.
+
+Goethe's literary satires and poems for special occasions are a
+prelude to the purely literary existence and the belligerent spirit of
+men like Platen and Immermann, who both, as it were by accident, found
+their way into the open of national poesy. The self-absorption in
+_Werther_, the delving after new poetical experiences and mediums of
+expression; the method of expression hovering between form and
+illusory improvisation--all this we find again in the strongest
+individualists, in Heine, in Annette von Droste, in Lenau. The Weimar
+period, however, when the poet by means of a great and severe
+self-discipline trains himself to the point of rigidity in order to
+become the instrument of his art--that period is, with _Tasso_, paving
+the way for the school of Grillparzer, while that infinite deepening
+of the poetic calling is a preparation for Otto Ludwig, Richard
+Wagner, and Friedrich Hebbel. The contemporary novel in the style of
+_Wilhelm Meister_ is revived by the Young Germans, above all by
+Gutzkow, in the same way that tendencies found in _Nathan_ and in
+_Goetz_ are brought out again in Gutzkow's and in Heinrich Laube's
+dramas, so rich in allusions. The national spirit of which _Egmont_ is
+full also fills the novels of Willibald Alexis and Berthold Auerbach.
+Finally those works, besides _Tasso_, which we are wont to consider
+the crowning achievements of the Weimar period, above all,
+_Iphigenia_, have permanently served as models of the new, and in
+their way classical, "antiques"--for the Munich School, for the
+Geibels and the Heyses. But we must also remember Moerike and Stifter,
+and their absorption in the fullness of the inner life, which none of
+them could attain to without somewhat stunting the growth of life's
+realities--Hebbel perceived this clearly enough not only in Stifter
+but in Goethe himself. Above all, however, this whole epoch of the
+"intellectual poets" may, in a certain sense, be called the _Italian
+Journey_ of German literature. Like Goethe in the years 1787-1788, the
+German muse in this period only feels entirely at home in Italy, or at
+least in the South; in her own country she feels misnamed.
+
+Now let us consider Goethe after he had settled down in Weimar for the
+second time. Scientific work seems for a while to have entirely
+replaced poetic activity, as for a moment the scientific prose of
+Ranke and Helmholtz came near to being of more consequence for the
+German language than most of what was produced at the same time by
+so-called poetry. Then the _Campaign in Champagne_ (1792), and the new
+employment of his time with political problems, constitutes for Goethe
+a temporary phase that may be compared with that recapturing of
+history by political-historical writers like Freytag and Treitschke,
+in the same way that _Hermann and Dorothea_ (1796), in which an old
+historical anecdote of the time of the expulsion of the Protestants
+from Salzburg is transplanted to the time of the French Revolution,
+may be compared with the historical "Novellen" of Riehl, Scheffel, and
+C.F. Meyer. Goethe's ballads (1797-1798) maintain the tradition that
+was to be given new life by Fontane, Strachwitz, and C.F. Meyer.
+Goethe's later novels with their didactic tendencies, and the
+inclination to interpolate "Novellen" and diaries, lead up to
+Gottfried Keller, Wilhelm Raabe and again to Fontane. The table-songs
+and other convivial poetry of Goethe's old age are taken up again by
+Scheffel; Goethe's "Novellen" themselves were continued by all those
+eminent writers whom we have already named. The _Divan_, with its bent
+toward immutable relations, prepares the way for the new lyric, until
+finally, with the second part of _Faust_, mythical world-poetry and
+symbolism complete the circle, just as the cycle of German literature
+finishes with Nietzsche, Stefan George, Spitteler and Hofmannsthal. At
+the same time new forces are starting to form the new cycle, or, to
+speak like Goethe, the newest spiral: Hauptmann, Frenssen, Ricarda
+Huch, Enrica von Handel, to name only these. And how many others have
+we not previously left unnamed!
+
+But all this has not been merely to exercise our ingenuity. By drawing
+this parallel, which is naturally only to be taken approximately, we
+have intended to make clear the comforting probability that, in spite
+of all the exaggerating, narrowing down, and forcing to which it has
+been obliged to submit, our modern and most recent German literature
+is essentially a healthy literature. That, in spite of all deviation
+caused by influential theorists--of the Storm and Stress, of the
+Romantic School, of the period of Goethe's old age, of the epigonean
+or naturalistic criticism, or by the dazzling phenomena of foreign
+countries,--nevertheless in the essentials it obeys its own inner
+laws. That in spite of all which in the present stage of our
+literature may create a painful or confusing impression, _we have no
+cause to doubt that a new and powerful upward development will take
+place, and no cause either to underrate the literature of our own
+day_! It is richer in great, and what is perhaps more important, in
+serious talents than any other contemporary literature. No other can
+show such wealth of material, no other such abundance of interesting
+and, in part, entirely new productions. We do not say this in order to
+disparage others who in some ways were, only a short time ago, so far
+superior to us--as were the French in surety of form, the
+Scandinavians in greatness of talents, the Russians in originality,
+the English in cultivation of the general public; but we are inspired
+to utter it by the hopeful joy which every one must feel who, in the
+contemplation of our modern lyric poetry, our novels, dramas, epic and
+didactic poetry, does not allow himself to be blinded by prejudice or
+offended vanity. A great literature such as we possessed about 1800 we
+of a certainty do not have to-day. A more hopeful chaos or one more
+rich in fertile seeds we have not possessed since the days of
+Romanticism. It is surely worth while to study this literature, and in
+all its twists and turns to admire the heliotropism of the German
+ideal and the importance which our German literature has won as a
+mediator, an experimenter, and a model for that world-literature, the
+outline of which the prophetic eye of the greatest German poet was the
+first to discern, and his hand, equally expert in scientific and
+poetic creation, the first to describe.
+
+
+
+THE LIFE OF GOETHE
+
+BY CALVIN THOMAS, LL.D.
+
+Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Columbia University
+
+Goethe, the illustrious poet-sage whom Matthew Arnold called the
+"clearest, largest, and most helpful thinker of modern times," was
+born August 28, 1749, at Frankfurt on the Main.[2] He was christened
+Johann Wolfgang. In his early years his familiar name was Wolfgang, or
+simply Wolf, never Johann. His family was of the middle class, the
+aristocratic _von_ which sometimes appears in his name, in accordance
+with German custom, having come to him with a patent of nobility which
+he received in the year 1782.
+
+Johann Caspar Goethe, the poet's father, was the son of a prosperous
+tailor, who was also a tailor's son. Having abundant means and being
+of an ambitious turn, Johann Caspar prepared himself for the
+profession of law, spent some time in Italy, and then settled in
+Frankfurt in the hope of rising to distinction in the public service.
+Disappointed in this hope, he procured the imperial title of
+Councilor, which gave him a dignified social status but nothing in
+particular to do. He thus became virtually a gentleman of leisure,
+since his law practise was quite insignificant. In 1748 he married
+Katharina Elisabeth Textor, whose father, Johann Wolfgang Textor, was
+the town's chief magistrate and most eminent citizen. She was eighteen
+years old at the time of her marriage--twenty years younger than her
+husband--and well fitted to become a poet's mother. The gift on which
+she especially prided herself was her story-telling. Wolfgang was the
+first child of these parents.
+
+The paternal strain in Goethe's blood made for level-headedness,
+precise and methodical ways, a serious view of life, and a desire to
+make the most of it. By his mother he was a poet who liked nothing
+else so well as to invent dream-worlds and commune with the spirits of
+his imagination. He also ascribes to his mother his _Frohnatur_, his
+joyous nature. And certain it is that his temperament was on the whole
+sunny. As he grew to manhood men and women alike were charmed by him.
+He became a virtuoso in love and had a genius for friendship. But he
+was not always cheerful. In his youth, particularly, he was often
+moody and given to brooding over indefinable woes. He suffered acutely
+at times from what is now called the melancholia of adolescence. This
+was a phase of that emotional sensitiveness and nervous instability
+which are nearly always a part of the poet's dower.
+
+Wolfgang grew up in a wholesome atmosphere of comfort and refinement.
+He never knew the tonic bitterness of poverty. On the other hand, he
+was never spoiled by his advantages; to his dying day he disliked
+luxury. At home under private tutors the boy studied Latin, French,
+and English, and picked up a little Italian by overhearing his
+sister's lessons. In 1758 Frankfurt was occupied by a French army, and
+a French playhouse was set going for the diversion of the officers. In
+the interest of his French Wolfgang was allowed to go to the theatre,
+and he made such rapid progress that he was soon studying the dramatic
+unities as expounded by Corneille and actually trying to write a
+French play. Withal he was left much to himself, so that he had time
+to explore Frankfurt to his heart's content.
+
+[Illustration: JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE _From the painting by C.
+ Jaeger_]
+
+He was much in contact with people of the humbler sort and learned to
+like their racy dialect. He penetrated into the ghetto and learned the
+jargon of the Jews. He even attacked biblical Hebrew, being led
+thereto by his great love of the Old Testament.
+
+It was his boyish ambition to become a great poet. His favorite
+amusement was a puppet-show, for which he invented elaborate plays.
+From his tenth year on he wrote a great deal of verse, early acquiring
+technical facility and local renown and coming to regard himself as a
+"thunderer." He attempted a polyglot novel, also a biblical tale on
+the subject of Joseph, which he destroyed on observing that the hero
+did nothing but pray and weep. When he was ready for the university he
+wished to go to Goettingen to study the old humanities, but his father
+was bent on making a lawyer of him. So it came about that some ten
+years of his early life were devoted, first as a student and then as a
+practitioner, to a reluctant and half-hearted grapple with the
+intricacies of Holy Roman law.
+
+At the age of sixteen Goethe entered the University of Leipzig, where
+he remained about three years. The law lectures bored him and he soon
+ceased to attend them. The other studies that he took up, especially
+logic and philosophy, seemed to him arid and unprofitable--mere
+conventional verbiage without any bed-rock of real knowledge. So he
+presently fell into that mood of disgust with academic learning which
+was afterwards to form the keynote of _Faust_. Outside the university
+he found congenial work in Oeser's drawing-school. Oeser was an artist
+of no great power with the brush, but a genial man, a friend of
+Winckelmann, and an enthusiast for Greek art. Goethe learned to admire
+and love him, and from this time on, for some twenty years, his
+constant need of artistic expression found hardly less satisfaction in
+drawing from nature than in poetry.
+
+His poetic ambition received little encouragement in university
+circles. Those to whom he read his ambitious verses made light of
+them. The venerated Gellert, himself a poet of repute, advised the lad
+to cultivate a good prose style and look to his handwriting. No wonder
+that he despaired of his talent, concluded that he could never be a
+poet, and burnt his effusions. A maddening love-affair with his
+landlady's daughter, Anna Katharina Schoenkopf, revived the dying lyric
+flame, and he began to write verses in the gallant erotic vein then
+and there fashionable--verses that tell of love-lorn shepherds and
+shepherdesses, give sage advice to girls about keeping their
+innocence, and moralize on the ways of this wicked world. They show no
+signs of lyric genius. His short-lived passion for Annette, as he
+called her, whom he tormented with his jealousy until she lost
+patience and broke off the intimacy, was also responsible for his
+first play, _Die Laune des Verliebten_, or _The Lover's Wayward
+Humor_. It is a pretty one-act pastoral in alexandrine verse, the
+theme being the punishment of an over-jealous lover. What is mainly
+significant in these Leipzig poetizings is the fact that they grew out
+of genuine experience. Goethe had resolved to drop his ambitious
+projects, such as _Belshazzar_, and coin his own real thoughts and
+feelings into verse. Thus early he was led into the way of poetic
+"confession."
+
+In the summer of 1768 he was suddenly prostrated by a grave
+illness--an internal hemorrhage which was at first thought to portend
+consumption. Pale and languid he returned to his father's house, and
+for several months it was uncertain whether he was to live or die.
+During this period of seclusion he became deeply interested in magic,
+alchemy, astrology, cabalism, and all that sort of thing. He even set
+up a kind of alchemist's laboratory to search experimentally for the
+panacea. Out of these abstruse studies grew Faust's wonderful dream of
+an ecstatic spirit-life to be attained by natural magic. Of course the
+menace of impending death drew his thoughts in the direction of
+religion. Among the intimate friends of the family was the devout
+Susanna von Klettenberg, one of the leading spirits in a local
+conventicle of the Moravian Brethren. This lady--afterwards
+immortalized as the "beautiful soul" of _Wilhelm Meister_--tried to
+have the sick youth make his peace with God in her way, that is, by
+accepting Christ as an ever-present personal saviour. While he never
+would admit a conviction of sin he envied the calm of the saintly
+maiden and was so far converted that he attended the meetings of the
+Brethren, took part in their communion service, and for a while spoke
+the language of a devout pietist.
+
+This religious experience of his youth bit deep into Goethe's
+character. He soon drifted away from the pietists and their ways, he
+came to have a poor opinion of priests and priestcraft, and in time
+men called him a heathen. Nevertheless his nature had been so deeply
+stirred in his youth by religion's mystic appeal that he never
+afterwards lost his reverence for genuine religious feeling. To the
+end of his days the aspiration of the human soul for communion with
+God found in him a delicate and sympathetic interpreter.
+
+During his convalescence Goethe retouched a score of his Leipzig songs
+and published them anonymously, with music by his friend Breitkopf,
+under the title of _New Songs_. He regarded them at the time as
+trifles that had come into being without art or effort. "Young, in
+love, and full of feeling," he had sung them so, while "playing the
+old game of youth." To-day they seem to convey little forewarning of
+the matchless lyric gift that was soon to awaken, being a shade too
+intellectual and sententious. One hears more of the critic's comment
+than of the poet's cry. It was at this time also that he rewrote an
+earlier Leipzig play, expanding it from one act to three and giving it
+the title _Die Mitschuldigen_, or _The Fellow-culprits_. It is a sort
+of rogue's comedy in middle-class life, written in the alexandrine
+verse, which was soon to be discarded along with other French
+fashions. We have a quartet consisting of an inquisitive inn-keeper,
+his mismated sentimental daughter, her worthless husband, and her
+former lover. They tangle themselves up in a series of low intrigues
+and are finally unmasked as one and all poor miserable sinners.
+Technically it is a good play--lively, diverting, well put together.
+But one can not call it very edifying.
+
+In the spring of 1770 Goethe entered the University of Strassburg,
+which was at that time in French territory. It was a part of his
+general purpose to better his French, but the actual effect of his
+sojourn in Alsatia was to put him out of humor with all French
+standards, especially with the classic French drama, and to excite in
+him a fervid enthusiasm for the things of the fatherland. This was due
+partly to the influence of Herder, with whom he now came into close
+personal relations. From Herder, who was six years his senior and
+already known by his _Fragments_ and _Critical Forests_ as a trenchant
+and original critic, he heard the gospel of a literary revolution.
+Rules and conventions were to be thrown overboard; the new watchwords
+were nature, power, originality, genius, fulness of expression. He
+conceived a boundless admiration for Homer, Ossian, and Shakespeare,
+in each of whom he saw the mirror of an epoch and a national life. He
+became an enthusiastic collector of Alsatian folksongs and was
+fascinated by the Strassburg minster--at a time when "Gothic" was
+generally regarded as a synonym of barbarous. Withal his gift for
+song-making came to a new stage of perfection under the inspiration of
+his love for the village maid Friederike Brion. From this time forth
+he was the prince of German lyrists.
+
+In the summer of 1771 he returned to Frankfurt once more, this time
+with the title of licentiate in law, and began to practise in a
+perfunctory way, with his heart in his literary projects. By the end
+of the year he had written out the first draft of a play which he
+afterwards revised and published anonymously (in 1773) under the title
+of _Goetz von Berlichingen_. By its exuberant fulness of life, its
+bluff German heartiness, and the freshness and variety of its scenes,
+it took the public by storm, notwithstanding its disregard of the
+approved rules of play-writing.
+
+[Illustration: JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE _From the Painting by J.
+ Stieler_]
+
+The next year he published _The Sufferings of Young Werther_, a tragic
+tale of a weak-willed sentimental youth of hyperesthetic tendencies,
+who commits suicide because of disappointment in love. The story was
+the greatest literary triumph that Germany had ever known, and in
+point of sheer artistic power it remains to this day the best of
+novels in the tragic-sentimental vein. These two works carried the
+name of Goethe far and wide and made him the accepted leader of the
+literary revolution which long afterwards came to be known, from the
+title of a play by Klinger, as the Storm and Stress.
+
+The years 1773-1775 were for Goethe a time of high emotional tension,
+from which he sought relief in rapid, desultory, and multifarious
+writing. Exquisite songs, musical comedies of a sentimental tinge,
+humorous and satiric skits in dramatic form, prose tragedy of
+passionate error, and poetic tragedy of titanic revolt--all these and
+more welled up from a sub-conscious spring of feeling, taking little
+counsel of the sober intellect. Several minor productions were left
+unfinished and were afterwards published in fragmentary form. Such is
+the case with _Prometheus_, a splendid fragment, in which we get a
+glimpse of the Titan battling, as the friend of man, against the
+ever-living gods. Of the works completed and published at this time,
+aside from _Goetz_ and _Werther_, the most notable were _Clavigo_ and
+_Stella_, prose tragedies in which a fickle lover meets with condign
+punishment. Another prose tragedy, _Egmont_, with its hero conceived
+as a "demonic" nature borne on to his doom by his own buoyancy of
+spirit, was nearly finished. Most important of all, a considerable
+portion of _Faust_, which was to be its author's great life-work, was
+"stormed out" during these early years at Frankfurt.
+
+The legendary Faust is presented as a bad man who sells his soul to
+the devil for twenty-four years of power and pleasure, gets what he
+bargained for, and in the end goes to perdition. Young Goethe
+conceived his hero differently: not as a bad man on the way to hell,
+and not--at first--as a good man on the way to heaven. He thought of
+him rather as a towering personality passionately athirst for
+transcendental knowledge and universal experience; as a man whose
+nature contained the very largest possibilities both for good and for
+evil. It is probable that, when he began to write, Goethe did not
+intend to anticipate the judgment of God upon Faust's career. The
+essence of his dramatic plan was to carry his hero through a lifetime
+of varied experience, letting him sin and suffer grandly, and at last
+to give him something to do which would seem worth having lived for.
+After the going down of the curtain, in all probability, he was to be
+left in the hands of the Eternal Pardoner. Later in life, as we shall
+see, Goethe decided not only to save his hero, but to make his
+salvation a part of the dramatic action.
+
+The close of the year 1775 brought a momentous change in Goethe's life
+and prospects. On the invitation of the young duke Karl August, who
+had met him and taken a liking to him, he went to visit the Weimar
+court, not expecting to stay more than a few weeks. But the duke was
+so pleased with his gifted and now famous guest that he presently
+decided to keep him in Weimar, if possible, by making him a member of
+the Council of State. Goethe was the more willing to remain, since he
+detested his law practise, and his income from authorship was
+pitifully small. Moreover, he saw in the boyish, impulsive,
+sport-loving prince a sterling nature that might be led in the ways of
+wise rulership. For the nonce this was mission enough. He took his
+seat in the Council in June, 1776, with the title of Councilor of
+Legation. At first there was not very much for him to do except to
+familiarize himself with the physical and economic conditions of the
+little duchy. This he did with a will. He set about studying
+mineralogy, geology, botany, and was soon observing the homologies of
+the vertebrate skeleton. Withal he was very attentive to
+routine business.
+
+[Illustration: 1. GOETHE'S GARDEN HOUSE IN WEIMAR]
+
+[Illustration: 2. GOETHE'S HOUSE IN WEIMAR]
+
+One after another important departments of administration were turned
+over to him, until he became, in 1782, the President of the Chambers
+and hence the leading statesman of the duchy.
+
+All this produced a sobering and clarifying effect. The inner storm
+and stress gradually subsided, and the new Goethe--statesman,
+scientific investigator, man of the world, courtier, friend of
+princes--came to see that after all feeling was not everything, and
+that its untrammeled expression was not the whole of art. Form and
+decorum counted for more than he had supposed, and revolution was not
+the word of wisdom. Self-control was the only basis of character, and
+limitation lay at the foundation of all art. To work to make things
+better, even in a humble sphere, was better than to fret over the
+badness of the world. Nature's method was that of bit-by-bit progress,
+and to puzzle out her ways was a noble and fascinating employment. In
+this general way of thinking he was confirmed by the study of
+Spinoza's _Ethics_, a book which, as he said long afterwards, quieted
+his passions and gave him a large and free outlook over the world. In
+this process of quieting the passions some influence must be ascribed
+to Charlotte von Stein, a woman in whom, for some twelve years of his
+life, he found his muse and his madonna. His letters often address her
+in terms of idolatrous endearment. She was a wife and a mother, but
+Weimar society regarded her relation to Goethe as a platonic
+attachment not to be condemned.
+
+The artistic expression of the new life in Weimar is found in various
+short poems, notably _Wanderer's Nightsong_, _Ilmenau_, _The Divine_,
+and _The Mysteries_; also in a number of plays which were written for
+the amateur stage of the court circle. The Weimarians were very fond
+of play-acting, and Goethe became their purveyor of dramatic supplies.
+It was to meet this demand that he wrote _Brother and Sister (Die
+Geschwister), The Triumph of Sentimentalism, The Fisher-maid, The
+Birds_, and other pieces. Much more important than any of these
+bagatelles, which were often hastily composed for a birthday
+celebration or some other festive occasion, are the two fine poetic
+dramas, _Iphigenie_ and _Tasso_. The former was first written rather
+rapidly in stately rhythmic prose and played by the amateurs, with
+Goethe himself in the role of Orestes, in the spring of 1779. Eight
+years later, the author being then in Italy, it was recast with great
+care in mellifluous blank verse. _Iphigenie_ is essentially a drama of
+the soul, there being little in it of what is commonly called action.
+A youth who is the prey of morbid illusions, so that his life has
+become a burden, is cured by finding a noble-minded sister, whose
+whole being radiates peace and self-possession. The entire power of
+Goethe's chastened art is here lavished on the figure of his heroine
+who, by her goodness, her candor, her sweet reasonableness, not only
+heals her soul-sick brother, but so works on the barbarian king Thoas,
+who would fain have her for his wife, that he wins a notable victory
+over himself.
+
+By the end of his first decade in Weimar Goethe began to feel that he
+needed and had earned a vacation. His conduct of the public business
+had been highly successful, but he had starved his esthetic nature;
+for after all Weimar was only a good-sized village that could offer
+little to the lover of art. Overwork had so told upon him that he was
+unable to hold himself long to any literary project. He had begun half
+a dozen important works, but had completed none of them, and the
+public was beginning to suspect that the author of _Goetz_ and
+_Werther_ was lost to literature. The effect of the whole
+situation--that inner conflict between the poetic dreamer and the man
+of affairs which is the theme of _Tasso_--was to produce a feeling of
+depression, as of a bird caught in a net. So acute did the trouble
+become that he afterwards spoke of it as a terrible disease. In the
+summer of 1786 he contracted with the Leipzig publisher Goeschen for a
+new edition of his works in eight volumes; and to gain time for this
+enterprise he resolved to take a trip to the land upon which he had
+already twice looked down with longing--once in 1775 and again in
+1779--from the summit of the Gotthard.
+
+[Illustration: GOETHE IN THE CAMPAGNA]
+
+On the 3d of September, at three o'clock in the morning, he stole away
+from Karlsbad, where he had been taking the waters, and hurried
+southward, alone and incognito, over the Alps.
+
+In Italy, where he remained nearly two years, Goethe's mind and art
+underwent another notable change. He himself called it a spiritual
+rebirth. Freed from all oppressive engagements, he gave himself to the
+study of ancient sculpture and architecture, reveled in the splendors
+of Renaissance painting, and pursued his botanical studies in the
+enticing plant-world of the Italian gardens. Venice, Naples, Vesuvius,
+Sicily, the sea, fascinated him in their several ways and gave him the
+sense of being richer for the rest of his life. Sharing in the
+care-free existence of the German artist-colony in Rome made him very
+happy. It not only disciplined his judgment in matters of art and
+opened a vast new world of ideas and impressions, but it restored the
+lost balance between the intellectual and duty-bound man on the one
+hand and the esthetic and sensual man on the other. He resolved never
+again to put on the harness of an administrative drudge, but to claim
+the freedom of a poet, an artist, a man of science. To this desire the
+Duke of Weimar generously assented.
+
+On his return to Weimar, in June, 1788, Goethe made it his first task
+to finish the remaining works that were called for by his contract
+with Goeschen. _Egmont_ and _Tasso_ were soon disposed of, but _Faust_
+proved intractable. While in Rome he had taken out the old manuscript
+and written a scene or two, and had then somehow lost touch with the
+subject. So he decided to revise what he had on hand and to publish a
+part of the scenes as a fragment. This fragmentary _Faust_ came out in
+1790. It attracted little attention, nor was any other of the new
+works received with much warmth by the public of that day. They
+expected something like _Goetz_ and _Werther_, and did not understand
+the new Goethe, who showed in many ways that his heart was still in
+Italy and that he found Weimar a little dull and provincial. Thus the
+greatest of German poets had for the time being lost touch with the
+German public; he saw that he must wait for the growth of the taste by
+which he was to be understood and enjoyed. Matters were hardly made
+better by his taking Christiane Vulpius into his house as his unwedded
+wife. This step, which shocked Weimar society--except the duke and
+Herder--had the effect of ending his unwholesome relation to Frau von
+Stein, who was getting old and peevish. The character of Christiane
+has often been pictured too harshly. She was certainly not her
+husband's intellectual peer--he would have looked long for a wife of
+that grade--and she became a little too fond of wine. On the other
+hand, she was affectionate, devoted, true, and by no means lacking in
+mental gifts. She and Goethe were happy together and faithful to
+each other.
+
+For several years after his return from Italy Goethe wrote nothing
+that is of much importance in the history of his literary life. He
+devoted himself largely to scientific studies in plant and animal
+morphology and the theory of color. His discovery of the
+intermaxillary bone in the human skull, and his theory that the
+lateral organs of a plant are but successive phases of the leaf, have
+given him an assured if modest place in the history of the development
+hypothesis. On the other hand, his long and laborious effort to refute
+Newton's theory of the composition of white light is now generally
+regarded as a misdirection of energy. In his _Roman Elegies_ (1790) he
+struck a note of pagan sensuality. The pensive distichs, telling of
+the wanton doings of Amor amid the grandeur that was Rome, were a
+little shocking in their frank portraiture of the emancipated flesh.
+The outbreak of violence in France seemed to him nothing but madness
+and folly, since he did not see the real Revolution, but only the
+Paris Terror.
+
+He wrote two or three very ordinary plays to satirize various phases
+of the revolutionary excitement--phases that now seem as insignificant
+as the plays themselves. In 1792 he accompanied the Duke of Weimar on
+the inglorious Austro-Prussian invasion of France, heard the cannonade
+at Valmy, and was an interested observer as the allies tumbled back
+over the Rhine. Perhaps the best literary achievement of these years
+is the fine hexameter version of the medieval _Reynard the Fox_.
+
+The year 1794 marks the beginning of more intimate relations between
+Goethe and Schiller. Their memorable friendship lasted until
+Schiller's death, in 1805--the richest decade in the whole history of
+German letters. The two men became in a sense allies and stood
+together in the championship of good taste and humane idealism.
+Goethe's literary occupations during this period were very
+multifarious; a list of his writings in the various fields of poetry,
+drama, prose fiction, criticism, biography, art and art-history,
+literary scholarship, and half a dozen sciences, would show a
+many-sidedness to which there is no modern parallel. Of all this mass
+of writing only a few works of major importance can even be
+mentioned here.
+
+In 1796 appeared _Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship_, a novel which
+captivated the literary class, if not the general public, and was
+destined to exert great influence on German fiction for a generation
+to come. It had been some twenty years in the making. In its earlier
+form it was called _Wilhelm Meister's Theatrical Mission_.[3] This
+tells the story of a Werther-like youth who is to be saved from
+Werther's fate by finding a work to do. His "mission," apparently, is
+to become a good actor and to promote high ideals of the histrionic
+art. Incidentally he is ambitious to be a dramatic poet, and his
+childhood is simply that of Wolfgang Goethe. For reasons intimately
+connected with his own development Goethe finally decided to change
+his plan and his title, and to present Wilhelm's variegated
+experiences as an apprenticeship in the school of life. In the final
+version Wilhelm comes to the conclusion that the theatre is _not_ his
+mission--all that was a mistaken ambition. Just what use he _will_
+make of his well-disciplined energy does not clearly appear at the end
+of the story, since Goethe bundles him off to Italy. He was already
+planning a continuation of the story under the title of _Wilhelm
+Meister's Journeymanship_. In this second part the hero becomes
+interested in questions of social uplift and thinks of becoming a
+surgeon. Taken as a whole _Wilhelm Meister_ moves with a slowness
+which is quite out of tune with later ideals of prose fiction. It also
+lacks concentration and artistic finality. But it is replete with
+Goethe's ripe and mellow wisdom, and it contains more of his intimate
+self than any other work of his except _Faust_.
+
+During this high noon of his life Goethe again took up his long
+neglected _Faust_, decided to make two parts of it, completed the
+First Part, and thought out much that was to go into the Second Part.
+By this time he had become somewhat alienated from the spirit of his
+youth, when he had envisaged life in a mist of vague and stormy
+emotionalism. His present passion was for clearness. So he boldly
+decided to convert the old tragedy of sin and suffering into a drama
+of mental clearing-up. The early Faust--the pessimist, murderer,
+seducer--was to be presented as temporarily wandering in the dark; as
+a man who had gone grievously wrong in passionate error, but was
+essentially "good" by virtue of his aspiring nature, and hence, in the
+Lord's fulness of time, was to be led out into the light and saved.
+The First Part, ending with the heart-rending death of Margaret in her
+prison-cell, and leaving Faust in an agony of remorse, was published
+in 1808. Faust's redemption, by enlarged experience of life and
+especially by his symbolic union with the Greek Queen of Beauty, was
+reserved for the Second Part.
+
+[Illustration: MONUMENT TO GOETHE (Berlin 1880) Sculptor, Fritz
+ Schaper]
+
+The other more notable works of this period are _Hermann and
+Dorothea_, a delightful poem in dactylic hexameters, picturing a bit
+of German still life against the sinister background of the French
+Revolution, and the _Natural Daughter_, which was planned to body
+forth, in the form of a dramatic trilogy in blank verse, certain
+phases of Goethe's thinking about the upheaval in France. In the
+former he appears once more as a poet of the plain people, with an eye
+and a heart for their ways and their outlook upon life. Everybody
+likes _Hermann and Dorothea_. On the other hand, the _Natural
+Daughter_ is disappointing, and not merely because it is a fragment.
+(Only the first part of the intended trilogy was written.) Goethe had
+now convinced himself that the function of art is to present the
+typical. Accordingly the characters appear as types of humanity
+divested of all that is accidental or peculiar to the individual. The
+most of them have not even a name. The consequence is that,
+notwithstanding the splendid verse and the abounding wisdom of the
+speeches, the personages do not seem to be made of genuine human
+stuff. As a great thinker's comment on the Revolution the _Natural
+Daughter_ is almost negligible.
+
+The decade that followed the death of Schiller was for Germany a time
+of terrible trial, during which Goethe pursued the even tenor of his
+way as a poet and man of science. He had little sympathy with the
+national uprising against Napoleon, whom he looked on as the
+invincible subduer of the hated Revolution. From the point of view of
+our modern nationalism, which was just then entering on its
+world-transforming career, his conduct was unpatriotic. But let him at
+least be rightly understood. It was not that he lacked sympathy for
+the German people, but he misjudged and underestimated the new forces
+that were coming into play. As the son of an earlier age he could only
+conceive a people's welfare as the gift of a wise ruler. He thought of
+politics as the affair of the great. He hated war and all eruptive
+violence, being convinced that good would come, not by such means, but
+by enlightenment, self-control and attending to one's work in one's
+sphere. To the historian Luden he said in 1813:
+
+"Do not believe that I am indifferent to the great ideas of freedom,
+people, fatherland. No! These ideas are in us, they are a part of our
+being, and no one can cast them from him. I too have a warm heart for
+Germany. I have often felt bitter pain in thinking of the German
+people, so worthy of respect in some ways, so miserable on the whole.
+A comparison of the German people with other peoples arouses painful
+emotions which I try in every way to surmount; and in science and art
+I have found the wings whereby I rise above them. But the comfort
+which these afford is after all a poor comfort that does not
+compensate for the proud consciousness of belonging to a great and
+strong people that is honored and feared."
+
+In 1808 he published _The Elective Affinities_, a novel in which the
+tragic effects of lawless passion invading the marriage relation were
+set forth with telling art. Soon after this he began to write a memoir
+of his life. He was now a European celebrity, the dream of his youth
+had come true, and he purposed to show in detail how everything had
+happened; that is, how his literary personality had evolved amid the
+environing conditions. He conceived himself as a phenomenon to be
+explained. That he called his memoir _Poetry and Truth_ was perhaps an
+error of judgment, since the title has been widely misunderstood. For
+Goethe poetry was not the antithesis of truth, but a higher species of
+truth--the actuality as seen by the selecting, combining, and
+harmonizing imagination. In themselves, he would have said, the facts
+of a man's life are meaningless, chaotic, discordant: it is the poet's
+office to put them into the crucible of his spirit and give them forth
+as a significant and harmonious whole. The "poetry" of Goethe's
+autobiography--by far the best of autobiographies in the German
+language--must not be taken to imply concealment, perversion,
+substitution, or anything of that gross kind.
+
+[Illustration: GOETHE'S MONUMENT IN ROME. (SCULPTOR, EBERLEIN)
+ Presented to the City of Rome by the German Emperor (From Seidel's
+ _Der Kaiser and die Kunst_)]
+
+It lies in the very style of the book and is a part of its author's
+method of self-revelation. That he devotes so much space to the
+seemingly transient and unimportant love-affairs of his youth is only
+his way of recognizing that the poet-soul is born of love and
+nourished by love. He felt that these fleeting amorosities were a part
+of the natural history of his inner being.
+
+And even in the serene afternoon of his life lovely woman often
+disturbed his soul, just as in the days of his youth. But the poetic
+expression of his feeling gradually became less simple and direct: he
+liked to embroider it with musing reflections and exotic fancies
+gathered from everywhere. Just as he endeavored with indefatigable
+eagerness of mind to keep abreast of scientific research, so he tried
+to assimilate the poetry of all nations. The Greeks and Romans no
+longer sufficed his omnivorous appetite and his "panoramic ability."
+When Hammer-Purgstall's German version of the _D[=i]w[=a]n_ of
+H[=a]f[=i]z came into his hands he at once set about making himself at
+home in the mental world of the Persian and Arabic poets. Thus arose
+his _Divan_ (1819), in which he imitated the oriental costume, but not
+the form. His aim was to reproduce in German verse the peculiar savor
+of the Orientals, with their unique blend of sensuality, wit, and
+mystic philosophy. But the feeling--the inner experience--was all his
+own. The best book of the _Divan_, the one called _Suleika_, was
+inspired by a very real liking for Marianne Willemer, a talented lady
+who played the love-game with him and actually wrote some of the poems
+long ascribed to Goethe himself.
+
+At last, in 1824, when he was seventy-five years old, he came back
+once more to his _Faust_, the completion of which had long floated
+before his mind as a duty that he owed to himself and to the world.
+There was no longer any doubt as to what his great life-work was to
+be. With admirable energy and with perfect clarity of vision he
+addressed himself to the gigantic task, the general plan of which and
+many of the details had been thought out long before. It was finished
+in the summer of 1831. About sixty years after he had penned the first
+words of Faust, the disgruntled pessimist at war with life, he took
+leave of him as a purified soul mounting upward among the saints
+toward the Ineffable Light, under the mystic guidance of the
+Eternal-Womanly.
+
+Goethe died March 18, 1832. The story that his last words were "more
+light" is probably nothing more than a happy invention.
+
+Admirers of the great German see more in him than the author of the
+various works which have been all too briefly characterized in the
+preceding sketch. His is a case where, in very truth, the whole is
+more than the sum of the parts. Goethe is the representative of an
+epoch. He stands for certain ideals which are not those of the present
+hour, but which it was of inestimable value to the modern man to have
+thus nobly worked out and exemplified in practice. Behind and beneath
+his writings, informing them and giving them their value for
+posterity, is a wonderful personality which it is a delight and an
+education to study in the whole process of its evolution. By way of
+struggle, pain and error, like his own Faust, he arrived at a view of
+life, in which he found inspiration and inner peace. It is outlined in
+the verses which he placed before his short poems as a sort of motto:
+
+  Wide horizon, eager life,
+  Busy years of honest strife,
+  Ever seeking, ever founding,
+  Never ending, ever rounding,
+  Guarding tenderly the old,
+  Taking of the new glad hold,
+  Pure in purpose, light of heart,
+  Thus we gain--at least a start.
+
+[Illustration:  THE DEATH OF GOETHE Fritz Fleischer]
+
+
+
+POEMS
+
+GREETING AND DEPARTURE[4] (1771)
+
+  My heart throbbed high: to horse, away then!
+    Swift as a hero to the fight!
+  Earth in the arms of evening lay then,
+    And o'er the mountains hung the night,
+  Now could I see like some huge giant
+    The haze-enveloped oak-tree rise,
+  While from the thicket stared defiant
+    The darkness with its hundred eyes.
+
+  The cloud-throned moon from his dominion
+    Peered drowsily through veils of mist.
+  The wind with gently-wafting pinion
+    Gave forth a rustling strange and whist.
+  With shapes of fear the night was thronging
+    But all the more my courage glowed;
+  My soul flamed up in passionate longing
+    And hot my heart with rapture flowed.
+
+  I saw thee; melting rays of pleasure
+    Streamed o'er me from thy tender glance,
+  My heart beat only to thy measure,
+    I drew my breath as in a trance.
+  The radiant hue of spring caressing
+    Lay rosy on thy upturned face,
+  And love--ye gods, how rich the blessing!
+    I dared not hope to win such grace.
+
+  To part--alas what grief in this is!--
+    In every look thy heart spoke plain.
+  What ecstasy was in thy kisses!
+    What changing thrill of joy and pain!
+    I went. One solace yet to capture,
+    Thine eyes pursued in sweet distress.
+  But to be loved, what holy rapture!
+    To love, ah gods, what happiness!
+
+[Illustration: THE HEATHROSE K. Kogler]
+
+
+THE HEATHROSE[5] (1771)
+
+  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 splendor.
+  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
+    Heathrose fair and tender!
+  Said the boy, "I'll now pick thee
+    Heathrose fair and tender!"
+  Rosebud cried "And I'll prick thee,
+  So thou shalt remember me,
+    Ne'er will I surrender!"
+  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
+    Heathrose fair and tender!
+  But the wanton plucked the rose,
+    Heathrose fair and tender;
+  Thorns the cruel theft oppose,
+  Brief the struggle and vain the woes,
+    She must needs surrender.
+  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
+    Heathrose fair and tender!
+
+
+MAHOMET'S SONG[6] (1773)
+
+[This song was intended to be introduced in a dramatic poem entitled
+_Mahomet_, the plan of which was not carried out by Goethe. He
+mentions that it was to have been sung by Ali toward the end of the
+piece, in honor of his master, Mahomet, shortly before his death, and
+when at the height of his glory, of which it is typical.]
+
+  See the rock-born stream!
+  Like the gleam
+  Of a star so bright!
+  Kindly spirits
+  High above the clouds
+  Nourished him while youthful
+  In the copse between the cliffs.
+
+  Young and fresh,
+  From the clouds he danceth
+  Down upon the marble rocks;
+  Then tow'rd heaven
+  Leaps exulting.
+
+  Through the mountain-passes
+  Chaseth he the color'd pebbles,
+  And, advancing like a chief,
+  Draws his brother streamlets with him
+  In his course.
+
+  In the vale below
+  'Neath his footsteps spring the flowers,
+  And the meadow
+  In his breath finds life.
+
+  Yet no shady vale can stay him,
+  Nor can flowers,
+  Round his knees all softly twining
+  With their loving eyes detain him;
+  To the plain his course he taketh,
+  Serpent-winding.
+
+  Eager streamlets
+  Join his waters. And now moves he
+  O'er the plain in silv'ry glory,
+  And the plain in him exults,
+  And the rivers from the plain,
+  And the streamlets from the mountain,
+  Shout with joy, exclaiming: "Brother,
+  Brother, take thy brethren with thee.
+  With thee to thine aged father,
+  To the everlasting ocean,
+  Who, with arms outstretching far,
+  Waiteth for us;
+  Ah, in vain those arms lie open
+  To embrace his yearning children;
+  For the thirsty sand consumes us
+  In the desert waste; the sunbeams
+  Drink our life-blood; hills around us
+  Into lakes would dam us! Brother,
+  Take thy brethren of the plain,
+  Take thy brethren of the mountain
+  With thee, to thy father's arms!"--
+
+  Let all come, then!--
+  And now swells he
+  Lordlier still; yea, e'en a people
+  Bears his regal flood on high!
+  And in triumph onward rolling,
+  Names to countries gives he,--cities
+  Spring to light beneath his foot.
+
+  Ever, ever, on he rushes,
+  Leaves the towers' flame-tipp'd summits,
+  Marble palaces, the offspring
+  Of his fulness, far behind.
+
+  Cedar-houses bears the Atlas
+  On his giant shoulders; flutt'ring
+  In the breeze far, far above him
+  Thousand flags are gaily floating,
+  Bearing witness to his might.
+
+  And so beareth he his brethren,
+  All his treasures, all his children,
+  Wildly shouting, to the bosom
+  Of his long-expectant sire.
+
+
+PROMETHEUS[7] (1774)
+
+  Cover thy spacious heavens, Zeus,
+  With clouds of mist,
+  And, like the boy who lops
+  The thistles' heads,
+  Disport with oaks and mountain-peaks;
+  Yet thou must leave
+
+  My earth still standing;
+  My cottage too, which was not raised by thee,
+  Leave me my hearth,
+  Whose kindly glow
+  By thee is envied.
+
+  I know nought poorer
+  Under the sun, than ye gods!
+  Ye nourish painfully,
+  With sacrifices
+  And votive prayers,
+  Your majesty;
+  Ye would e'en starve,
+  If children and beggars
+  Were not trusting fools.
+  While yet a child,
+  And ignorant of life,
+  I turned my wandering gaze
+  Up tow'rd the sun, as if with him
+  There were an ear to hear my wailing,
+  A heart, like mine
+  To feel compassion for distress.
+
+  Who help'd me
+  Against the Titans' insolence?
+  Who rescued me from certain death,
+  From slavery?
+  Didst thou not do all this thyself,
+  My sacred glowing heart?
+  And glowedst, young and good,
+  Deceived with grateful thanks
+  To yonder slumbering one?
+
+  I honor thee! and why?
+  Hast thou e'er lighten'd the sorrows
+  Of the heavy laden?
+  Hast thou e'er dried up the tears
+
+[Illustration: PROMETHEUS Titian.]
+
+  Of the anguish-stricken?
+  Was I not fashion'd to be a man
+  By omnipotent Time,
+  And by eternal Fate,
+  Masters of me and thee?
+
+  Didst thou e'er fancy
+  That life I should learn to hate,
+  And fly to deserts,
+  Because not all
+  My blossoming dreams grew ripe?
+
+  Here sit I, forming mortals
+  After my image;
+  A race resembling me,
+  To suffer, to weep,
+  To enjoy, to be glad,
+  And thee to scorn,
+  As I!
+
+
+THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG[8] (1776)
+
+  Thou who comest from on high,
+    Who all woes and sorrows stillest,
+  Who, for two-fold misery,
+    Hearts with twofold balsam fillest,
+  Would this constant strife would cease!
+    What avails the joy and pain?
+  Blissful Peace,
+    To my bosom come again!
+
+
+THE SEA-VOYAGE[9] (1776)
+
+  Many a day and night my bark stood ready laden;
+  Waiting fav'ring winds, I sat with true friends round me,
+  Pledging me to patience and to courage,
+  In the haven.
+
+  And they spoke thus with impatience twofold:
+  "Gladly pray we for thy rapid passage,
+  Gladly for thy happy voyage; fortune
+  In the distant world is waiting for thee,
+  In our arms thou'lt find thy prize, and love too,
+  When returning."
+
+  And when morning came, arose an uproar
+  And the sailors' joyous shouts awoke us;
+  All was stirring, all was living, moving,
+  Bent on sailing with the first kind zephyr.
+
+  And the sails soon in the breeze are swelling,
+  And the sun with fiery love invites us;
+  Fill'd the sails are, clouds on high are floating,
+  On the shore each friend exulting raises
+  Songs of hope, in giddy joy expecting
+  Joy the voyage through, as on the morn of sailing,
+  And the earliest starry nights so radiant.
+
+  But by God-sent changing winds ere long he's driven
+  Sideways from the course he had intended,
+  And he feigns as though he would surrender,
+  While he gently striveth to outwit them,
+  To his goal, e'en when thus press'd, still faithful.
+
+  But from out the damp gray distance rising,
+  Softly now the storm proclaims its advent,
+  Presseth down each bird upon the waters,
+  Presseth down the throbbing hearts of mortals.
+  And it cometh. At its stubborn fury,
+  Wisely ev'ry sail the seaman striketh;
+  With the anguish-laden ball are sporting
+  Wind and water.
+
+  And on yonder shore are gather'd standing,
+  Friends and lovers, trembling for the bold one:
+  "Why, alas, remain'd he here not with us!
+  Ah, the tempest I Cast away by fortune!
+  Must the good one perish in this fashion?
+  Might not he perchance * * *. Ye great immortals!"
+
+  Yet he, like a man, stands by his rudder;
+  With the bark are sporting wind and water,
+  Wind and water sport not with his bosom:
+  On the fierce deep looks he, as a master,--
+  In his gods, or shipwreck'd, or safe landed,
+  Trusting ever.
+
+
+ TO THE MOON[10] (1778)
+
+  Bush and vale thou fill'st again
+    With thy misty ray,
+  And my spirit's heavy chain
+    Casteth far away.
+
+  Thou dost o'er my fields extend
+    Thy sweet soothing eye,
+  Watching like a gentle friend,
+    O'er my destiny.
+
+  Vanish'd days of bliss and woe
+    Haunt me with their tone,
+  Joy and grief in turns I know,
+    As I stray alone.
+
+  Stream beloved, flow on! Flow on!
+    Ne'er can I be gay!
+  Thus have sport and kisses gone,
+    Truth thus pass'd away.
+
+  Once I seem'd the lord to be
+    Of that prize so fair!
+  Now, to our deep sorrow, we
+    Can forget it ne'er.
+
+  Murmur, stream, the vale along,
+    Never cease thy sighs;
+  Murmur, whisper to my song
+    Answering melodies!
+
+  When thou in the winter's night
+    Overflow'st in wrath,
+  Or in spring-time sparklest bright,
+    As the buds shoot forth.
+
+  He who from the world retires,
+    Void of hate, is blest;
+  Who a friend's true love inspires,
+    Leaning on his breast!
+
+  That which heedless man ne'er knew,
+    Or ne'er thought aright,
+  Roams the bosom's labyrinth through,
+    Boldly into night.
+
+
+THE FISHERMAN[11] (1778)
+
+  The waters rush'd, the waters rose,
+    A fisherman sat by,
+  While on his line in calm repose
+    He cast his patient eye.
+  And as he sat, and hearken'd there,
+    The flood was cleft in twain,
+  And, lo! a dripping mermaid fair
+    Sprang from the troubled main.
+
+  She sang to him, and spake the while
+    "Why lurest thou my brood,
+  With human wit and human guile
+    From out their native flood?
+  Oh, couldst thou know how gladly dart
+    The fish across the sea,
+  Thou wouldst descend, e'en as thou art,
+    And truly happy be!
+
+  Do not the sun and moon with grace
+    Their forms in ocean lave?
+  Shines not with twofold charms their face,
+    When rising from the wave?
+  The deep, deep heavens, then lure thee not,--
+    The moist yet radiant blue,--
+  Not thine own form,--to tempt thy lot
+    'Midst this eternal dew?"
+
+  The waters rush'd, the waters rose,
+    Wetting his naked feet;
+  As if his true love's words were those,
+    His heart with longing beat.
+  She sang to him, to him spake she,
+    His doom was fix'd, I ween;
+  Half drew she him, and half sank he,
+    And ne'er again was seen.
+
+[Illustration: THE FISHERMAN AND THE MERMAID Georg Papperitz]
+
+
+THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG[12] (1780)
+
+[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill in the forest of Ilmenau,
+on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composed the last act
+of his _Iphigenie_.]
+
+  Hush'd on the hill
+  Is the breeze;
+  Scarce by the zephyr
+  The trees
+  Softly are press'd;
+  The woodbird's asleep on the bough.
+  Wait, then, and thou
+  Soon wilt find rest.
+
+
+THE ERL-KING[13] (1782)
+
+  Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
+  The father it is, with his infant so dear;
+  He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm,
+  He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.
+
+  "My son, wherefore seek's thou thy face thus to hide?"
+  "Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!
+  Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?"
+  "My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain."
+
+  "Oh come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!
+  Full many a game I will play there with thee;
+  On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,
+  My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold."
+
+  "My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
+  The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?"
+  "Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;
+  'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."
+
+  "Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?
+  My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care;
+  My daughters by night their glad festival keep,
+  They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."
+
+  "My father, my father, and dost thou not see,
+  How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?"
+  "My darling, my darling, I see it aright,
+  'Tis the aged gray willows deceiving thy sight."
+
+  "I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!
+  And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."
+  "My father, my father, he seizes me fast,
+  Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last."
+
+  The father now gallops, with terror half wild,
+  He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
+  He reaches his court-yard with toil and with dread,--
+  The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.
+
+
+THE GODLIKE[14] (1783)
+
+  Noble be man,
+  Helpful and good!
+  For that alone
+  Distinguisheth him
+  From all the beings
+  Unto us known.
+
+  Hail to the beings,
+  Unknown and glorious,
+  Whom we forebode!
+  From _his_ example
+  Learn we to know them!
+
+  For unfeeling
+  Nature is ever
+  On bad and on good
+  The sun alike shineth;
+  And on the wicked,
+  As on the best,
+  The moon and stars gleam.
+
+  Tempest and torrent,
+  Thunder and hail,
+  Roar on their path,
+  Seizing the while,
+  As they haste onward,
+  One after another.
+
+  Even so, fortune
+  Gropes 'mid the throng--
+  Innocent boyhood's
+  Curly head seizing,--
+  Seizing the hoary
+  Head of the sinner.
+
+  After laws mighty,
+  Brazen, eternal,
+  Must all we mortals
+  Finish the circuit
+  Of our existence.
+
+  Man, and man only
+  Can do the impossible
+  He 'tis distinguisheth,
+  Chooseth and judgeth;
+  He to the moment
+  Endurance can lend.
+
+  He and he only
+  The good can reward,
+  The bad can he punish,
+  Can heal and can save;
+  All that wanders and strays
+  Can usefully blend.
+
+  And we pay homage
+  To the immortals
+  As though they were men,
+  And did in the great,
+  What the best, in the small,
+  Does or might do.
+
+  Be the man that is noble,
+  Both helpful and good,
+  Unweariedly forming
+  The right and the useful,
+  A type of those beings
+  Our mind hath foreshadow'd!
+
+
+MIGNON[15] (1785)
+
+[This universally known poem is also to be found in _Wilhelm
+Meister_.]
+
+  Know'st thou the land where the fair citron blows,
+  Where the bright orange midst the foliage glows,
+  Where soft winds greet us from the azure skies,
+  Where silent myrtles, stately laurels rise,
+  Know'st thou it well?
+
+                         'Tis there, 'tis there,
+  That I with thee, beloved one, would repair.
+
+  Know'st thou the house? On columns rests its pile,
+  Its halls are gleaming, and its chambers smile,
+  And marble statues stand and gaze on me:
+  "Poor child! what sorrow hath befallen thee?"
+  Know'st thou it well?
+
+                         'Tis there, 'tis there,
+  That I with thee, protector, would repair!
+
+  Know'st thou the mountain, and its cloudy bridge?
+  The mule can scarcely find the misty ridge;
+  In caverns dwells the dragon's olden brood,
+  The frowning crag obstructs the raging flood.
+  Know'st thou it well?
+
+                         'Tis there, 'tis there,
+  Our path lies--Father--thither, oh repair!
+
+
+PROXIMITY OF THE BELOVED ONE[16] (1795)
+
+  I think of thee, whene'er the sun his beams
+      O'er ocean flings;
+  I think of thee, whene'er the moonlight gleams
+      In silv'ry springs.
+
+  I see thee, when upon the distant ridge
+      The dust awakes;
+  At midnight's hour, when on the fragile bridge
+      The wanderer quakes.
+
+  I hear thee, when yon billows rise on high,
+      With murmur deep.
+  To tread the silent grove oft wander I,
+      When all's asleep.
+
+  I'm near thee, though thou far away mayst be--
+      Thou, too, art near!
+  The sun then sets, the stars soon lighten me,
+      Would thou wert here!
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT[17] (1802)
+
+  Up yonder on the mountain,
+    I dwelt for days together;
+  Looked down into the valley,
+    This pleasant summer weather.
+
+  My sheep go feeding onward,
+    My dog sits watching by;
+  I've wandered to the valley,
+    And yet I know not why.
+
+  The meadow, it is pretty,
+    With flowers so fair to see;
+  I gather them, but no one
+    Will take the flowers from me.
+
+  The good tree gives me shadow,
+    And shelter from the rain;
+  But yonder door is silent,
+    It will not ope again!
+
+  I see the rainbow bending,
+    Above her old abode,
+  But she is there no longer;
+    They've taken my love abroad.
+
+  They took her o'er the mountains,
+    They took her o'er the sea;
+  Move on, move on, my bonny sheep,
+    There is no rest for me!
+
+
+NATURE AND ART[18] (1802)
+
+  Nature and art asunder seem to fly,
+    Yet sooner than we think find common ground;
+    In place of strife, harmonious songs resound,
+  And both, at one, to my abode draw nigh.
+  In sooth but one endeavor I descry:
+    Then only, when in ordered moments' round
+    Wisdom and toil our lives to Art have bound,
+  Dare we rejoice in Nature's liberty.
+  Thus is achievement fashioned everywhere:
+    Not by ungovernable, hasty zeal
+      Shalt thou the height of perfect form attain.
+  Husband thy strength, if great emprize thou dare;
+    In self-restraint thy masterhood reveal,
+      And under law thy perfect freedom gain.
+
+
+COMFORT IN TEARS[19] (1803)
+
+  How is it that thou art so sad
+    When others are so gay?
+  Thou hast been weeping--nay, thou hast!
+    Thine eyes the truth betray.
+
+  "And if I may not choose but weep
+    Is not my grief mine own?
+  No heart was heavier yet for tears--
+    O leave me, friend, alone!"
+
+  Come join this once the merry band,
+    They call aloud for thee,
+  And mourn no more for what is lost,
+    But let the past go free.
+
+  "O, little know ye in your mirth,
+    What wrings my heart so deep!
+  I have not lost the idol yet,
+    For which I sigh and weep."
+
+  Then rouse thee and take heart! thy blood
+    Is young and full of fire;
+  Youth should have hope and might to win,
+    And wear its best desire.
+
+  "O, never may I hope to gain
+    What dwells from me so far;
+  It stands as high, it looks as bright,
+    As yonder burning star."
+
+  Why, who would seek to woo the stars
+    Down from their glorious sphere?
+  Enough it is to worship them,
+    When nights are calm and clear.
+
+  "Oh, I look up and worship too--
+    My star it shines by day--
+  Then let me weep the livelong night
+    The while it is away."
+
+
+EPILOGUE TO SCHILLER'S "SONG OF THE
+BELL"[20]
+
+[This fine piece, written originally in 1805, on Schiller's death,
+was altered and recast by Goethe in 1815, on the occasion of the
+performance on the stage of the _Song of the Bell_. Hence the allusion
+in the last verse.]
+
+  To this city joy reveal it!
+  Peace as its first signal peal it!
+
+(_Song of the Bell_--concluding lines).
+
+  And so it proved! The nation felt, ere long,
+  That peaceful signal, and, with blessings fraught,
+  A new-born joy appeared; in gladsome song
+  To hail the youthful princely pair we sought;
+  While in the living, ever-swelling throng
+  Mingled the crowds from every region brought,
+  And on the stage, in festal pomp arrayed,
+  The HOMAGE OF THE ARTS[21] we saw displayed.
+
+  When, lo! a fearful midnight sound I hear,
+  That with a dull and mournful echo rings.
+  And can it be that of our friend so dear
+  It tells, to whom each wish so fondly clings?
+  Shall death o'ercome a life that all revere?
+  How such a loss to all confusion brings!
+  How such a parting we must ever rue!
+  The world is weeping--shall not we weep, too?
+
+  He was our own! How social, yet how great
+  Seemed in the light of day his noble mind!
+  How was his nature, pleasing yet sedate,
+  Now for glad converse joyously inclined,
+  Then swiftly changing, spirit-fraught elate,
+  Life's plan with deep-felt meaning it designed,
+  Fruitful alike in counsel and in deed!
+  This have we proved, this tested, in our need.
+
+  He was our own! O may that thought so blest
+  O'ercome the voice of wailing and of woe!
+  He might have sought the Lasting, safe at rest
+  In harbor, when the tempest ceased to blow.
+  Meanwhile his mighty spirit onward pressed
+  Where goodness, beauty, truth, forever grow;
+  And in his rear, in shadowy outline, lay
+  The vulgar, which we all, alas, obey!
+
+  Now doth he deck the garden-turret fair
+  Where the stars' language first illumed his soul,
+  As secretly yet clearly through the air
+  On the eterne, the living sense it stole;
+  And to his own, and our great profit, there
+  Exchangeth to the seasons as they roll;
+  Thus nobly doth he vanquish, with renown,
+  The twilight and the night that weigh us down.
+
+  Brighter now glowed his cheek, and still more bright,
+  With that unchanging, ever-youthful glow,--
+  That courage which o'ercomes, in hard-fought fight,
+  Sooner or later, every earthly foe,--
+  That faith which, soaring to the realms of light,
+  Now boldly presseth on, now bendeth low,
+  So that the good may work, wax, thrive amain,
+  So that the day the noble may attain.
+
+  Yet, though so skilled, of such transcendent worth,
+  This boarded scaffold doth he not despise;
+  The fate that on its axis turns the earth
+  From day to night, here shows he to our eyes,
+  Raising, through many a work of glorious birth,
+  Art and the artist's fame up toward the skies.
+  He fills with blossoms of the noblest strife,
+  With life itself, this effigy of life.
+
+  His giant-step, as ye full surely know,
+  Measured the circle of the will and deed,
+  Each country's changing thoughts and morals, too,
+  The darksome book with clearness could he read;
+  Yet how he, breathless 'midst his friends so true,
+  Despaired in sorrow, scarce from pain was freed,--
+  All this have we, in sadly happy years,
+  For he was ours, bewailed with feeling tears.
+
+  When from the agonizing weight of grief
+  He raised his eyes upon the world again,
+  We showed him how his thoughts might find relief
+  From the uncertain present's heavy chain,
+  Gave his fresh-kindled mind a respite brief,
+  With kindly skill beguiling every pain,
+  And e'en at eve when setting was his sun,
+  From his wan cheeks a gentle smile we won.
+
+  Full early had he read the stern decree,
+  Sorrow and death to him, alas, were known;
+  Ofttimes recovering, now departed he,--
+  Dread tidings, that our hearts had feared to own!
+  Yet his transfigured being now can see
+  Itself, e'en here on earth, transfigured grown.
+  What his own age reproved, and deemed a crime,
+  Hath been ennobled now by death and time.
+
+  And many a soul that with him strove in fight,
+  And his great merit grudged to recognize,
+  Now feels the impress of his wondrous might,
+  And in his magic fetters gladly lies;
+  E'en to the highest hath he winged his flight,
+  In close communion linked with all we prize.
+  Extol him then! What mortals while they live
+  But half receive, posterity shall give.
+
+  Thus is he left us, who so long ago,--
+  Ten years, alas, already!--turned from earth;
+  We all, to our great joy, his precepts know,
+  Oh, may the world confess their priceless worth!
+  In swelling tide toward every region flow
+  The thoughts that were his own peculiar birth;
+  He gleams like some departing meteor bright,
+  Combining, with his own, eternal light.
+
+
+ERGO BIBAMUS![22] (1810)
+
+  For a praiseworthy object we're now gathered here,
+  So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  Tho' talk may be hushed, yet the glasses ring clear,
+  Remember then, ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word,
+  With its sound befitting each bosom is stirred,
+  And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,
+  A glorious ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+  I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare,
+  And bethought me of: ERGO BIBAMUS;
+  So I gently approached, and she let me stand there,
+  While I helped myself, thinking: BIBAMUS!
+  And when she's appeared, and will clasp you and kiss,
+  Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss,
+  Take refuge, till found is some worthier bliss,
+  In the comforting ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+  I am called by my fate far away from each friend;
+  Ye loved ones, then: ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend,
+  So double our ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  Whate'er to his treasure the niggard may add,
+  Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had,
+  For gladness lends ever its charms to the glad,
+  So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS!
+
+  And what shall we say of to-day as it flies?
+  I thought but of:  ERGO BIBAMUS!
+  'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise,
+  So again and again sing: BIBAMUS!
+  For joy through a wide-open portal it guides,
+  Bright glitter the clouds as the curtain divides,
+  And a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides,
+  While we thunder our: ERGO BIBAMUS.
+
+
+THE WALKING BELL[23] (1813)
+
+  A child refused to go betimes
+  To church like other people;
+  He roamed abroad, when rang the chimes
+  On Sundays from the steeple.
+
+  His mother said: "Loud rings the bell,
+  Its voice ne'er think of scorning;
+  Unless thou wilt behave thee well,
+  'Twill fetch thee without warning."
+
+  The child then thought: "High over head
+  The bell is safe suspended--"
+  So to the fields he straightway sped
+  As if 'twas school-time ended.
+
+  The bell now ceased as bell to ring,
+  Roused by the mother's twaddle;
+  But soon ensued a dreadful thing!--
+  The bell begins to waddle.
+
+  It waddles fast, though strange it seem;
+  The child, with trembling wonder,
+  Runs off, and flies, as in a dream;
+  The bell would draw him under.
+
+  He finds the proper time at last,
+  And straightway nimbly rushes
+  To church, to chapel, hastening fast
+  Through pastures, plains, and bushes.
+
+  Each Sunday and each feast as well,
+  His late disaster heeds he;
+  The moment that he hears the bell,
+  No other summons needs he.
+
+
+FOUND[24] (1813)
+
+  Once through the forest
+  Alone I went;
+  To seek for nothing
+  My thoughts were bent.
+
+  I saw i' the shadow
+  A flower stand there;
+  As stars it glisten'd,
+  As eyes 'twas fair.
+
+  I sought to pluck it,--
+  It gently said:
+  "Shall I be gather'd
+  Only to fade?"
+
+  With all its roots
+  I dug it with care,
+  And took it home
+  To my garden fair.
+
+  In silent corner
+  Soon it was set;
+  There grows it ever,
+  There blooms it yet.
+
+
+HATEM[25] (1815)
+
+  Locks of brown, still bind your captive
+  In the circle of her face!
+  I, beloved sinuous tresses,
+  Naught possess that's worth your grace--
+
+  But a heart whose love enduring
+  Swells in youthful fervor yet:
+  Snow and mists envelop Etna,
+  Making men the fire forget.
+
+  Yonder mountain's pride so stately
+  Thou dost shame like dawn's red glow;
+  And its spell once more bids Hatem
+  Thrill of spring and summer know.
+
+  Once more fill the glass, the flagon!
+  Let me drink to my desire.
+  If she find a heap of ashes,
+  Say, "He perished in her fire!"
+
+
+REUNION[26] (1815)
+
+  Can it be, O star transcendent,
+  That I fold thee to my breast?
+  Now I know, what depths of anguish
+  May in parting be expressed.
+  Yes, 'tis thou, of all my blisses
+  Lovely, loving partner--thou!
+  Mindful of my bygone sorrows,
+  E'en the present awes me now.
+
+  When the world in first conception
+  Lay in God's eternal mind,
+  In creative power delighting
+  He the primal hour designed.
+  When he gave command for being,
+  Then was heard a mighty sigh
+  Full of pain, as all creation
+  Broke into reality.
+
+  Up then sprang the light; and darkness
+  Doubtful stood apart to gaze;
+  All the elements, dividing
+  Swiftly, took their several ways.
+  In confused, disordered dreaming
+  Strove they all for freedom's range--
+  Each for self, no fellow-feeling;
+  Single each, and cold and strange.
+
+  Lo, a marvel--God was lonely!
+  All was still and cold and dumb.
+  So he framed dawn's rosy blushes
+  Whence should consolation come--
+  To refresh the troubled spirit
+  Harmonies of color sweet:
+  What had erst been forced asunder
+  Now at last could love and meet.
+
+  Then, ah then, of life unbounded
+  Sight and feeling passed the gates;
+  Then, ah then, with eager striving
+  Kindred atoms sought their mates.
+  Gently, roughly they may seize them,
+  So they catch and hold them fast:
+  "We," they cry, "are now creators--
+  Allah now may rest at last!"
+
+  So with rosy wings of morning
+  Towards thy lips my being moves;
+  Sets the starry night a thousand
+  Glowing seals upon our loves.
+  We are as we should be--parted
+  Ne'er on earth in joy or pain;
+  And no second word creative
+  E'er can sunder us again!
+
+
+PROOEMION[27] (1816)
+
+  In His blest name, who was His own creation,
+  Who from all time makes _making_ His vocation;
+  The name of Him who makes our faith so bright,
+  Love, confidence, activity, and might;
+  In that One's name, who, named though oft He be,
+  Unknown is ever in Reality:
+  As far as ear can reach, or eyesight dim,
+  Thou findest but the known resembling Him;
+  How high soe'er thy fiery spirit hovers,
+  Its simile and type it straight discovers;
+  Onward thou'rt drawn, with feelings light and gay,
+  Where e'er thou goest, smiling is the way;
+  No more thou numberest, reckonest no time,
+  Each step is infinite, each step sublime.
+  What God would _outwardly_ alone control,
+  And on His finger whirl the mighty Whole?
+  He loves the _inner_ world to move, to view
+  Nature in Him, Himself in Nature, too,
+  So that what in Him works, and is, and lives,
+  The measure of His strength, His spirit gives.
+  Within us all a universe doth dwell;
+  And hence each people's usage laudable,
+  That every one the Best that meets his eyes
+  As God, yea, e'en _his_ God, doth recognize;
+  To Him both earth and heaven surrenders he,
+  Fears Him, and loves Him, too, if that may be.
+
+
+THE ONE AND THE ALL[28] (1821)
+
+  Called to a new employ in boundless space,
+  The lonely monad quits its 'customed place
+  And from life's weary round contented flees.
+  No more of passionate striving, will perverse
+  And hampering obligations, long a curse:
+  Free self-abandonment at last gives peace.
+
+  Soul of the world, come pierce our being through!
+  Across the drift of things our way to hew
+  Is our appointed task, our noblest war.
+  Good spirits by our destined pathway still
+  Lead gently on, best masters of our will,
+  Toward that which made and makes all things that are.
+  To shape for further ends what now has breath,
+  Let nothing harden into ice and death,
+  Works endless living action everywhere.
+  What has not yet existed strives for birth--
+  Toward purer suns, more glorious-colored earth:
+  To rest in idle stillness naught may dare.
+  All must move onward, help transform the mass,
+  Assume a form, to yet another pass;
+  'Tis but in seeming aught is fixed or still.
+  In all things moves the eternal restless Thought;
+  For all, when comes the hour, must fall to naught
+  If to persist in being is its will.
+
+
+LINES ON SEEING SCHILLER'S SKULL[30] (1826)
+
+[This curious imitation of the ternary metre of Dante was written at
+the age of seventy-seven.]
+
+  Within a gloomy charnel-house one day
+  I viewed the countless skulls, so strangely mated,
+  And of old times I thought that now were gray.
+  Close packed they stand that once so fiercely hated,
+  And hardy bones that to the death contended,
+  Are lying crossed,--to lie forever, fated.
+  What held those crooked shoulder-blades suspended?
+  No one now asks; and limbs with vigor fired,
+  The hand, the foot--their use in life is ended.
+  Vainly ye sought the tomb for rest when tired;
+  Peace in the grave may not be yours; ye're driven
+  Back into daylight by a force inspired;
+  But none can love the withered husk, though even
+  A glorious noble kernel it contained.
+
+  To me, an adept, was the writing given
+  Which not to all its holy sense explained.
+  When 'mid the crowd, their icy shadows flinging,
+  I saw a form that glorious still remained,
+  And even there, where mould and damp were clinging,
+  Gave me a blest, a rapture-fraught emotion,
+  As though from death a living fount were springing.
+  What mystic joy I felt! What rapt devotion!
+  That form, how pregnant with a godlike trace!
+  A look, how did it whirl me toward that ocean
+  Whose rolling billows mightier shapes embrace!
+  Mysterious vessel! Oracle how dear!
+  Even to grasp thee is my hand too base,
+  Except to steal thee from thy prison here
+  With pious purpose, and devoutly go
+  Back to the air, free thoughts, and sunlight clear.
+  What greater gain in life can man e'er know
+  Than when God-Nature will to him explain
+  How into Spirit steadfastness may flow,
+  How steadfast, too, the Spirit-Born remain.
+
+
+A LEGACY[31] (1829)
+
+  No living atom comes at last to naught!
+  Active in each is still the eternal Thought:
+  Hold fast to Being if thou wouldst be blest.
+  Being is without end; for changeless laws
+  Bind that from which the All its glory draws
+  Of living treasures endlessly possessed.
+
+  Unto the wise of old this truth was known,
+  Such wisdom knit their noble souls in one;
+  Then hold thou still the lore of ancient days!
+  To that high power thou ow'st it, son of man,
+  By whose decree the earth its circuit ran
+  And all the planets went their various ways.
+  Then inward turn at once thy searching eyes;
+
+  Thence shalt thou see the central truth arise
+  From which no lofty soul goes e'er astray;
+  There shalt thou miss no needful guiding sign--
+  For conscience lives, and still its light divine
+  Shall be the sun of all thy moral day.
+  Next shalt thou trust thy senses' evidence,
+  And fear from them no treacherous offence
+  While the mind's watchful eye thy road commands:
+  With lively pleasure contemplate the scene
+  And roam securely, teachable, serene,
+  At will throughout a world of fruitful lands.
+  Enjoy in moderation all life gives:
+  Where it rejoices in each thing that lives
+  Let reason be thy guide and make thee see.
+  Then shall the distant past be present still,
+  The future, ere it comes, thy vision fill--
+  Each single moment touch eternity.
+  Then at the last shalt thou achieve thy quest,
+  And in one final, firm conviction rest:
+  What bears for thee true fruit alone is true.
+  Prove all things, watch the movement of the world
+  As down the various ways its tribes are whirled;
+  Take thou thy stand among the chosen few.
+  Thus hath it been of old; in solitude
+  The artist shaped what thing to him seemed good,
+  The wise man hearkened to his own soul's voice.
+  Thus also shalt thou find thy greatest bliss;
+  To lead where the elect shall follow--this
+  And this alone is worth a hero's choice.
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO HERMANN AND DOROTHEA
+
+Hermann and Dorothea is universally known and prized in Germany as no
+other work of the classical period of German literature except
+Goethe's _Faust_ and Schiller's _Wilhelm Tell_, and, although
+distinctively German in subject and spirit, it early became and is
+still a precious possession of all the modern world. It marks the
+culmination of the renaissance in the literary art of Germany and
+perhaps of Europe.
+
+Schiller hailed it as the pinnacle of Goethe's and of all modern art.
+A. W. Schlegel in 1797 judged it to be a finished work of art in the
+grand style, and at the same time intelligible, sympathetic,
+patriotic, popular, a book full of golden teachings of wisdom and
+virtue. Two generations later one of the leading historians of German
+literature declared that there is no other poem that comes so near to
+the father of all poetry (Homer) as this, none in which Greek form and
+German content are so intimately blended, and that this is perhaps the
+only poem which without explanation and without embarrassment all the
+modern centuries could offer to an ancient Greek to enjoy. In the view
+of the end of the nineteenth century, expressed by a distinguished
+philosopher-critic, this work is a unique amalgam of the artistic
+spirit, objectivity, and contemplative clearness of Homer with the
+soul-life of the present, the heart-beat of the German people, the
+characteristic traits which mark the German nature.
+
+As Longfellow's _Evangeline_, treating in the same verse-form of the
+dactylic hexameter and in a way partly epic and partly idyllic a story
+of love and domestic interests in a contrasting setting of war and
+exile, was modeled on _Hermann and Dorothea_, so the latter poem was
+suggested by J. H. Voss' idyl _Luise_, published first in parts in
+1783 and 1784 and as a whole revised in 1795. Of his delight in
+_Luise_ Goethe wrote to Schiller in February, 1798: "This proved to be
+much to my advantage, for this joy finally became productive in me, it
+drew me into this form (the epic), begot my _Hermann_, and who knows
+what may yet come of it." But _Luise_ is not really epic; it is
+without action, without unity, without any large historical outlook,--a
+series of minutely pictured, pleasing idyllic scenes.
+
+In contrast herewith Goethe's purpose was in his own words, "in an
+epic crucible to free from its dross the purely human existence of a
+small German town, and at the same time mirror in a small glass the
+great movements and changes of the world's stage." This purpose he
+achieved in the writing of _Hermann and Dorothea_ at intervals from
+September, 1796, through the summer of 1797, in the autumn of which
+year the poem was published.
+
+The main sources from which the poet drew his material are four. In
+the first place the theme was invented by him out of an anecdote of
+the flight of Protestant refugees from the Archbishopric of Salzburg
+in 1731-1732. On the basis of this anecdote he drew the original
+outlines of the meeting and union of the lovers. Secondly, as a
+consequence of the French Revolution, Germans were forced to flee from
+German territory west of the Rhine. Goethe was present with Prussian
+troops in France in 1792, and observed the siege of Mainz in 1793.
+Hence his knowledge of war and exile, with their attendant cruelties
+and sufferings. Thirdly, the personal experiences of his own life
+could not but contribute to his description of the then German
+present. Features of Frankfurt and Ilmenau reappear. The characters
+show traits of Goethe's parents, and possibly something of his wife is
+in Dorothea. Hermann's mother bears the name of the poet's and reveals
+many of her qualities. But some of these are given to the
+landlord-father, while the elder Goethe's pedantry and petty
+weaknesses are shown in the apothecary. The poet's experiences in the
+field are realistically reproduced in many particulars of character
+and incident, as are doubtless also his mother's vivid reports of
+events in Frankfurt during July and August, 1796. We may feel sure too
+that it was the occurrences of this summer that led Goethe to
+transform the short, pure idyl of his first intention into a longer
+epic of his own present. The fourth source is literary tradition,
+which we may trace back through the verse idyl of Voss to the prose
+idyl of Gessner, thence through the unnatural Arcadian pastorals of
+the seventeenth and earlier centuries to the great Greek
+creators,--Theocritus, of the idyl, and Homer, of the epic.
+
+From whatever source derived, the materials were transmuted and
+combined by Goethe's genius into a broad, full picture of German life,
+with characters typical of the truly human and of profound ethical
+importance, interpreting to the attentive reader the significance of
+life for the individual, the family, the nation.
+
+
+HERMANN AND DOROTHEA (1797)[32]
+
+TRANSLATED BY ELLEN FROTHINGHAM
+
+
+CALLIOPE
+
+FATE AND SYMPATHY
+
+Truly, I never have seen the market and street so deserted!
+How as if it were swept looks the town, or had perished! Not fifty
+Are there, methinks, of all our inhabitants in it remaining.
+
+What will not curiosity do! here is every one running,
+Hurrying to gaze on the sad procession of pitiful exiles.
+Fully a league it must be to the causeway they have to pass over,
+Yet all are hurrying down in the dusty heat of the noonday.
+I, in good sooth, would not stir from my place to witness the sorrows
+Borne by good, fugitive people, who now, with their rescued possessions,
+Driven, alas! from beyond the Rhine, their beautiful country,
+Over to us are coming, and through the prosperous corner
+Roam of this our luxuriant valley, and traverse its windings.
+"Well hast thou done, good wife, our son in thus kindly dispatching,
+Laden with something to eat and to drink, and with store of old linen,
+'Mongst the poor folk to distribute; for giving belongs to the wealthy.
+How the youth drives, to be sure! What control he has over the horses!
+Makes not our carriage a handsome appearance,--the new one? With comfort,
+Four could be seated within, with a place on the box for the coachman.
+This time, he drove by himself. How lightly it rolled round the corner!"
+Thus, as he sat at his ease in the porch of his house on the market,
+Unto his wife was speaking mine host of the Golden Lion.
+
+Thereupon answered and said the prudent, intelligent housewife:
+"Father, I am not inclined to be giving away my old linen:
+Since it serves many a purpose; and cannot be purchased for money,
+When we may want it. To-day, however, I gave, and with pleasure,
+Many a piece that was better, indeed, in shirts and in bed-clothes;
+For I was told of the aged and children who had to go naked.
+But wilt thou pardon me, father? thy wardrobe has also been plundered.
+And, in especial, the wrapper that has the East-Indian flowers,
+Made of the finest of chintz, and lined with delicate flannel,
+Gave I away: it was thin and old, and quite out of the fashion."
+
+Thereupon answered and said, with a smile, the excellent landlord:
+"Faith! I am sorry to lose it, my good old calico wrapper,
+Real East-Indian stuff: I never shall get such another.
+Well, I had given up wearing it: nowadays, custom compels us
+Always to go in surtout, and never appear but in jacket;
+Always to have on our boots; forbidden are night-cap and slippers."
+
+[Illustration: HERMANN'S PARENTS IN THE DOORWAY OF THE TAVERN Ludwig
+Richter]
+
+"See!" interrupted the wife; "even now some are yonder returning,
+Who have beheld the procession: it must, then, already be over.
+Look at the dust on their shoes! and see how their faces are glowing!
+Every one carries his kerchief, and with it is wiping the sweat off.
+Not for a sight like that would I run so far and so suffer,
+Through such a heat; in sooth, enough shall I have in the telling."
+
+Thereupon answered and said, with emphasis, thus, the good father:
+"Rarely does weather like this attend such a harvest as this is.
+We shall be bringing our grain in dry, as the hay was before it.
+Not the least cloud to be seen, so perfectly clear is the heaven;
+And, with delicious coolness, the wind blows in from the eastward.
+That is the weather to last! over-ripe are the cornfields already;
+We shall begin on the morrow to gather our copious harvest."
+
+Constantly, while he thus spoke, the crowds of men and of women
+Grew, who their homeward way were over the market-place wending;
+And, with the rest, there also returned, his daughters beside him,
+Back to his modernized house on the opposite side of the market,
+Foremost merchant of all the town, their opulent neighbor,
+Rapidly driving his open barouche,--it was builded in Landau.
+Lively now grew the streets, for the city was handsomely peopled.
+Many a trade was therein carried on, and large manufactures.
+Under their doorway thus the affectionate couple were sitting,
+Pleasing themselves with many remarks on the wandering people.
+Finally broke in, however, the worthy housewife, exclaiming:
+"Yonder our pastor, see! is hitherward coming, and with him
+Comes our neighbor the doctor, so they shall every thing tell us;
+All they have witnessed abroad, and which 'tis a sorrow to look on."
+
+Cordially then the two men drew nigh, and saluted the couple;
+Sat themselves down on the benches of wood that were placed in the doorway,
+Shaking the dust from their feet, and fanning themselves with
+                                            their kerchiefs.
+Then was the doctor, as soon as exchanged were the mutual greetings,
+First to begin, and said, almost in a tone of vexation:
+"Such is mankind, forsooth! and one man is just like another,
+Liking to gape and to stare when ill-luck has befallen his neighbor.
+Every one hurries to look at the flames, as they soar in destruction;
+Runs to behold the poor culprit, to execution conducted:
+Now all are sallying forth to gaze on the need of these exiles,
+Nor is there one who considers that he, by a similar fortune,
+May, in the future, if not indeed next, be likewise o'ertaken.
+Levity not to be pardoned, I deem; yet it lies in man's nature."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the noble, intelligent pastor;
+Ornament he of the town, still young, in the prime of his manhood.
+
+He was acquainted with life,--with the needs of his hearers acquainted;
+Deeply imbued he was with the Holy Scriptures' importance,
+As they reveal man's destiny to us, and man's disposition;
+Thoroughly versed, besides, in best of secular writings.
+"I should be loath," he replied, "to censure an innocent instinct,
+Which to mankind by good mother Nature has always been given.
+What understanding and reason may sometimes fail to accomplish,
+Oft will such fortunate impulse, that bears us resistlessly with it.
+Did curiosity draw not man with its potent attraction,
+Say, would he ever have learned how harmoniously fitted together
+Worldly experiences are? For first what is novel he covets;
+Then with unwearying industry follows he after the useful;
+Finally longs for the good by which he is raised and ennobled.
+While he is young, such lightness of mind is a joyous companion,
+Traces of pain-giving evil effacing as soon as 'tis over.
+He is indeed to be praised, who, out of this gladness of temper,
+Has in his ripening years a sound understanding developed;
+Who, in good fortune or ill, with zeal and activity labors:
+Such an one bringeth to pass what is good, and repaireth the evil."
+
+Then broke familiarly in the housewife impatient, exclaiming:
+"Tell us of what ye have seen; for that I am longing to hear of!"
+
+"Hardly," with emphasis then the village doctor made answer,
+"Can I find spirits so soon after all the scenes I have witnessed.
+Oh, the manifold miseries! who shall be able to tell them?
+E'en before crossing the meadows, and while we were yet at a distance,
+Saw we the dust; but still from hill to hill the procession
+Passed away out of our sight, and we could distinguish but little.
+But when at last we were come to the street that crosses the valley,
+Great was the crowd and confusion of persons on foot and of wagons.
+There, alas! saw we enough of these poor unfortunates passing,
+And could from some of them learn how bitter the sorrowful flight was,
+Yet how joyful the feeling of life thus hastily rescued.
+Mournful it was to behold the most miscellaneous chattels,--
+All those things which are housed in every well-furnished dwelling,
+All by the house-keeper's care set up in their suitable places,
+Always ready for use; for useful is each and important.--
+Now these things to behold, piled up on all manner of wagons,
+One on the top of another, as hurriedly they had been rescued.
+Over the chest of drawers were the sieve and wool coverlet lying;
+Thrown in the kneading-trough lay the bed, and the sheets on the mirror.
+Danger, alas! as we learned ourselves in our great conflagration
+Twenty years since, will take from a man all power of reflection,
+So that he grasps things worthless and leaves what is precious behind him.
+Here, too, with unconsidering care they were carrying with them
+Pitiful trash, that only encumbered the horses and oxen;
+Such as old barrels and boards, the pen for the goose, and the bird-cage.
+Women and children, too, went toiling along with their bundles,
+Panting 'neath baskets and tubs, full of things of no manner of value:
+So unwilling is man to relinquish his meanest possession.
+Thus on the dusty road the crowded procession moved forward,
+All confused and disordered. The one whose beasts were the weaker,
+Wanted more slowly to drive, while faster would hurry another.
+Presently went up a scream from the closely squeezed women and children,
+And with the yelping of dogs was mingled the lowing of cattle,
+Cries of distress from the aged and sick, who aloft on the wagon,
+Heavy and thus overpacked, upon beds were sitting and swaying.
+Pressed at last from the rut and out to the edge of the highway,
+Slipped the creaking wheel; the cart lost its balance, and over
+Fell in the ditch. In the swing the people were flung to a distance,
+Far off into the field, with horrible screams; by good fortune
+Later the boxes were thrown and fell more near to the wagon.
+Verily all who had witnessed the fall, expected to see them
+Crushed into pieces beneath the weight of trunks and of presses.
+So lay the cart all broken to fragments, and helpless the people.
+Keeping their onward way, the others drove hastily by them,
+Each thinking only of self, and carried away by the current.
+Then we ran to the spot, and found the sick and the aged,--
+Those who at home and in bed could before their lingering ailments
+Scarcely endure,--lying bruised on the ground, complaining and groaning,
+Choked by the billowing dust and scorched by the heat of the noonday."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the kind-hearted landlord, with feeling:
+"Would that our Hermann might meet them and give them refreshment
+                                                   and clothing!
+Loath should I be to behold them: the looking on suffering pains me.
+Touched by the earliest tidings of their so cruel afflictions,
+Hastily sent we a mite from out of our super-abundance,
+Only that some might be strengthened, and we might ourselves be made easy.
+But let us now no longer renew these sorrowful pictures
+Knowing how readily fear steals into the heart of us mortals,
+And anxiety, worse to me than the actual evil.
+Come with me into the room behind, our cool little parlor,
+Where no sunbeam e'er shines, and no sultry breath ever enters
+Through its thickness of wall. There mother will bring us a flagon
+Of our old eighty-three, with which we may banish our fancies.
+Here 'tis not cosey to drink: the flies so buzz round the glasses."
+Thither adjourned they then, and all rejoiced in the coolness.
+
+Carefully brought forth the mother the clear and glorious vintage,
+Cased in a well-polished flask, on a waiter of glittering pewter,
+Set round with large green glasses, the drinking cups meet for the
+                                                     Rhine wine.
+So sat the three together about the highly waxed table,
+Gleaming and round and brown, that on mighty feet was supported.
+Joyously rang at once the glasses of landlord and pastor,
+But his motionless held the third, and sat lost in reflection,
+Until with words of good-humor the landlord challenged him, saying,--
+"Come, sir neighbor, empty your glass, for God in His mercy
+Thus far has kept us from evil, and so in the future will keep us.
+For who acknowledges not, that since our dread conflagration,
+When He so hardly chastised us, He now is continually blessing,
+Constantly shielding, as man the apple of His eye watches over,
+Holding it precious and dear above all the rest of His members?
+Shall He in time to come not defend us and furnish us succor?
+Only when danger is nigh do we see how great is His power.
+Shall He this blooming town which He once by industrious burghers
+Built up afresh from its ashes, and afterward blessed with abundance,
+Now demolish again, and bring all the labor to nothing?"
+
+Cheerfully said in reply the excellent pastor, and kindly:
+"Keep thyself firm in the faith, and firm abide in this temper;
+For it makes steadfast and wise when fortune is fair, and when evil,
+Furnishes sweet consolation and animates hopes the sublimest."
+
+Then made answer the landlord, with thoughts judicious and manly:
+"Often the Rhine's broad stream have I with astonishment greeted,
+As I have neared it again, after travelling abroad upon business.
+Always majestic it seemed, and my mind and spirit exalted.
+But I could never imagine its beautiful banks would so shortly
+Be to a rampart transformed, to keep from our borders the Frenchman,
+And its wide-spreading bed be a moat all passage to hinder.
+See! thus nature protects, the stout-hearted Germans protect us,
+And thus protects us the Lord, who then will be weakly despondent?
+Weary already the combatants, all indications are peaceful.
+Would it might be that when that festival, ardently longed for,
+Shall in our church be observed, when the sacred _Te Deum_ is rising,
+Swelled by the pealing of organ and bells, and the blaring of trumpets,--
+Would it might be that that day should behold my Hermann, sir pastor,
+Standing, his choice now made, with his bride before thee at the altar,
+Making that festal day, that through every land shall be honored,
+My anniversary, too, henceforth of domestic rejoicing!
+But I observe with regret, that the youth so efficient and active
+Ever in household affairs, when abroad is timid and backward.
+Little enjoyment he finds in going about among others;
+Nay, he will even avoid young ladies' society wholly;
+Shuns the enlivening dance which all young persons delight in."
+
+Thus he spoke and listened; for now was heard in the distance
+Clattering of horses' hoofs drawing near, and the roll of the wagon,
+Which, with furious haste, came thundering under the gateway.
+
+
+TERPSICHORE
+
+HERMANN
+
+Now when of comely mien the son came into the chamber,
+Turned with a searching look the eyes of the preacher upon him,
+And, with the gaze of the student, who easily fathoms expression,
+Scrutinized well his face and form and his general bearing.
+Then with a smile he spoke, and said in words of affection:
+"Truly a different being thou comest! I never have seen thee
+Cheerful as now, nor ever beheld I thy glances so beaming.
+Joyous thou comest, and happy: 'tis plain that among the poor people
+Thou hast been sharing thy gifts, and receiving their blessings
+                                                  upon thee."
+
+Quietly then, and with serious words, the son made him answer:
+"If I have acted as ye will commend, I know not; but I followed
+That which my heart bade me do, as I shall exactly relate you.
+Thou wert, mother, so long in rummaging 'mong thy old pieces,
+Picking and choosing, that not until late was thy bundle together;
+Then, too, the wine and the beer took care and time in the packing.
+When I came forth through the gateway at last, and out on the high-road,
+Backward the crowd of citizens streamed with women and children,
+Coming to meet me; for far was already the band of the exiles.
+Quicker I kept on my way, and drove with speed to the village,
+Where they were meaning to rest, as I heard, and tarry till morning.
+Thitherward up the new street as I hasted, a stout-timbered wagon,
+Drawn by two oxen, I saw, of that region the largest and strongest;
+While, with vigorous steps, a maiden was walking beside them,
+And, a long staff in her hand, the two powerful creatures was guiding,
+Urging them now, now holding them back; with skill did she drive them.
+
+[Illustration: HERMANN HANDS TO DOROTHEA THE LINEN FOR THE EMIGRANTS
+Ludwig Richter]
+
+Soon as the maiden perceived me, she calmly drew near to the horses,
+And in these words she addressed me: 'Not thus deplorable always
+Has our condition been, as to-day on this journey thou seest.
+I am not yet grown used to asking gifts of a stranger,
+Which he will often unwillingly give, to be rid of the beggar.
+But necessity drives me to speak; for here, on the straw, lies
+Newly delivered of child, a rich land-owner's wife, whom I scarcely
+Have in her pregnancy, safe brought off with the oxen and wagon.
+Naked, now in her arms the new-born infant is lying,
+And but little the help our friends will be able to furnish,
+If in the neighboring village, indeed, where to-day we would rest us,
+Still we shall find them; though much do I fear they already have
+                                                     passed it.
+Shouldst thou have linen to spare of any description, provided
+Thou of this neighborhood art, to the poor in charity give it.'
+
+"Thus she spoke, and the pale-faced mother raised herself feebly
+Up from the straw, and toward me looked. Then said I in answer
+'Surely unto the good, a spirit from heaven oft speaketh,
+Making them feel the distress that threatens a suffering brother.
+For thou must know that my mother, already presaging thy sorrows,
+Gave me a bundle to use it straightway for the need of the naked.'
+Then I untied the knots of the string, and the wrapper of father's
+Unto her gave, and gave her as well the shirts and the linen.
+And she thanked me with joy, and cried: 'The happy believe not
+Miracles yet can be wrought: for only in need we acknowledge
+God's own hand and finger, that leads the good to show goodness.
+What unto us He has done through thee, may He do to thee also!'
+And I beheld with what pleasure the sick woman handled the linens,
+But with especial delight the dressing-gown's delicate flannel.
+'Let us make haste,' the maid to her said, 'and come to the village,
+Where our people will halt for the night and already are resting.
+There these clothes for the children I, one and all, straightway
+                                                will portion.'
+Then she saluted again, her thanks most warmly expressing,
+Started the oxen; the wagon went on; but there I still lingered,
+Still held the horses in check; for now my heart was divided
+Whether to drive with speed to the village, and there the provisions
+Share 'mong the rest of the people, or whether I here to the maiden
+All should deliver at once, for her discreetly to portion.
+And in an instant my heart had decided, and quietly driving
+After the maiden, I soon overtook her, and said to her quickly:
+'Hearken, good maiden;--my mother packed up not linen-stuffs only
+Into the carriage, that I should have clothes to furnish the naked;
+Wine and beer she added besides, and supply of provisions:
+Plenty of all these things I have in the box of the carriage.
+But now I feel myself moved to deliver these offerings also
+Into thy hand; for so shall I best fulfil my commission.
+Thou wilt divide them with judgment, while I must by chance be directed.'
+Thereupon answered the maiden: 'I will with faithfulness portion
+These thy gifts, that all shall bring comfort to those who are needy.'
+Thus she spoke, and quickly the bog of the carriage I opened,
+Brought forth thence the substantial hams, and brought out the
+                                                 breadstuffs,
+Bottles of wine and beer, and one and all gave to the maiden.
+Willingly would I have given her more, but the carriage was empty.
+All she packed at the sick woman's feet, and went on her journey.
+I, with my horses and carriage, drove rapidly back to the city."
+
+Instantly now, when Hermann had ceased, the talkative neighbor
+Took up the word, and cried: "Oh happy, in days like the present,
+Days of flight and confusion, who lives by himself in his dwelling,
+Having no wife nor child to be clinging about him in terror!
+Happy I feel myself now, and would not for much be called father;
+Would not have wife and children to-day, for whom to be anxious.
+Oft have I thought of this flight before; and have packed up together
+All my best things already, the chains and old pieces of money
+That were my sainted mother's, of which not one has been sold yet.
+Much would be left behind, it is true, not easily gotten.
+Even the roots and the herbs, that were with such industry gathered,
+I should be sorry to lose, though the worth of the goods is but trifling.
+If my purveyor remained, I could go from my dwelling contented.
+When my cash I have brought away safe, and have rescued my person,
+All is safe: none find it so easy to fly as the single."
+
+"Neighbor," unto his words young Hermann with emphasis answered:
+"I can in no wise agree with thee here, and censure thy language.
+Is he indeed a man to be prized, who, in good and in evil,
+Takes no thought but for self, and gladness and sorrow with others
+Knows not how to divide, nor feels his heart so impel him?
+Rather than ever to-day would I make up my mind to be married:
+Many a worthy maiden is needing a husband's protection,
+And the man needs an inspiriting wife when ill is impending."
+
+Thereupon smiling the father replied: "Thus love I to hear thee!
+That is a sensible word such as rarely I've known thee to utter."
+Straightway, however, the mother broke in with quickness, exclaiming:
+"Son, to be sure, thou art right! we parents have set the example;
+Seeing that not in our season of joy did we choose one another;
+Rather the saddest of hours it was that bound us together.
+Monday morning--I mind it well; for the day that preceded
+Came that terrible fire by which our city was ravaged--
+Twenty years will have gone. The day was a Sunday as this is;
+Hot and dry was the season; the water was almost exhausted.
+All the people were strolling abroad in their holiday dresses,
+'Mong the villages partly, and part in the mills and the taverns.
+And at the end of the city the flames began, and went coursing
+Quickly along the streets, creating a draught in their passage.
+Burned were the barns where the copious harvest already was garnered;
+Burned were the streets as far as the market; the house of my father,
+Neighbor to this, was destroyed, and this one also fell with it.
+Little we managed to save. I sat, that sorrowful night through,
+Outside the town on the common, to guard the beds and the boxes.
+Sleep overtook me at last, and when I again was awakened,
+Feeling the chill of the morning that always descends before sunrise,
+There were the smoke and the glare, and the walls and chimneys in ruins.
+Then fell a weight on my heart; but more majestic than ever
+Came up the sun again, inspiring my bosom with courage.
+Then I rose hastily up, with a yearning the place to revisit
+Whereon our dwelling had stood, and to see if the hens had been rescued,
+Which I especially loved, for I still was a child in my feelings.
+Thus as I over the still-smoking timbers of house and of court-yard
+Picked my way, and beheld the dwelling so ruined and wasted,
+Thou camest up to examine the place, from the other direction.
+Under the ruins thy horse in his stall had been buried; the rubbish
+Lay on the spot and the glimmering beams; of the horse we saw nothing.
+Thoughtful and grieving we stood there thus, each facing the other,
+Now that the wall was fallen that once had divided our court-yards.
+Thereupon thou by the hand didst take me, and speak to me, saying,--
+'Lisa, how camest thou hither? Go back! thy soles must be burning;
+Hot the rubbish is here: it scorches my boots, which are stronger.'
+And thou didst lift me up, and carry me out through thy court-yard.
+There was the door of the house left standing yet with its archway,
+Just as 'tis standing now, the one thing only remaining.
+Then thou didst set me down and kiss me; to that I objected;
+But thou didst answer and say with kindly significant language:
+'See! my house lies in ruins: remain here and help me rebuild it;
+So shall my help in return be given to building thy father's.'
+Yet did I not comprehend thee until thou sentest thy mother
+Unto my father, and quick were the happy espousals accomplished.
+E'en to this day I remember with joy those half-consumed timbers,
+And I can see once more the sun coming up in such splendor;
+For 'twas the day that gave me my husband; and, ere the first season
+Passed of that wild desolation, a son to my youth had been given.
+Therefore I praise thee, Hermann, that thou, with an honest assurance,
+Shouldst, in these sorrowful days, be thinking thyself of a maiden,
+And amid ruins and war shouldst thus have the courage to woo her."
+
+Straightway, then, and with warmth, the father replied to her, saying:
+"Worthy of praise is the feeling, and truthful also the story,
+Mother, that thou hast related; for so indeed every thing happened.
+Better, however, is better. It is not the business of all men
+Thus their life and estate to begin from the very foundation:
+Every one needs not to worry himself as we and the rest did.
+Oh, how happy is he whose father and mother shall give him,
+Furnished and ready, a house which he can adorn with his increase.
+Every beginning is hard; but most the beginning a household.
+Many are human wants, and every thing daily grows dearer,
+So that a man must consider the means of increasing his earnings.
+This I hope therefore of thee, my Hermann, that into our dwelling
+Thou wilt be bringing ere long a bride who is handsomely dowered;
+For it is meet that a gallant young man have an opulent maiden.
+Great is the comfort of home whene'er, with the woman elected,
+Enter the useful presents, besides, in box and in basket.
+Not for this many a year in vain has the mother been busy
+Making her daughter's linens of strong and delicate texture;
+God-parents have not in vain been giving their vessels of silver,
+And the father laid by in his desk the rare pieces of money;
+For there a day will come when she, with her gifts and possessions,
+Shall that youth rejoice who has chosen her out of all others.
+Well do I know how good in a house is a woman's position,
+Who her own furniture round her knows, in kitchen and chamber;
+Who herself the bed and herself the table has covered.
+Only a well-dowered bride should I like to receive to my dwelling.
+She who is poor is sure, in the end, to be scorned by her husband;
+And will as servant be held, who as servant came in with her bundle.
+Men will remain unjust when the season of love is gone over.
+Yes, my Hermann, thy father's old age thou greatly canst gladden,
+If thou a daughter-in-law will speedily bring to my dwelling,
+Out of the neighborhood here,--from the house over yonder, the green one.
+Rich is the man, I can tell thee. His manufactures and traffic
+Daily are making him richer; for whence draws the merchant not profit?
+Three daughters only he has, to divide his fortune among them.
+True that the eldest already is taken; but there is the second
+Still to be had, as well as the third; and not long so, it may be.
+I would never have lingered till now, had I been in thy place;
+But had fetched one of the maidens, as once I bore off thy dear mother."
+
+Modestly then did the son to the urgent father make answer:
+"Truly 'twas my wish too, as well as thine own, to have chosen
+One of our neighbor's daughters, for we had been brought up together;
+Played, in the early days, about the market-place fountain;
+And, from the other boys' rudeness, I often have been their defender.
+That, though, is long since past: the girls, as they grew to be older,
+Properly stayed in the house, and shunned the more boisterous pastimes.
+Well brought up are they, surely! I used sometimes to go over,
+Partly to gratify thee, and because of our former acquaintance:
+But no pleasure I ever could take in being among them;
+For I was always obliged to endure their censures upon me.
+Quite too long was my coat, the cloth too coarse, and the color
+Quite too common; my hair was not cropped, as it should be, and frizzled.
+I was resolved, at last, that I, also, would dress myself finely,
+Just as those office-boys do who always are seen there on Sundays,
+Wearing in summer their half-silken flaps, that dangle about them;
+But I discovered, betimes, they made ever a laughing-stock of me.
+And I was vexed when I saw it,--it wounded my pride; but more deeply
+Felt I aggrieved that they the good-will should so far misinterpret
+That in my heart I bore them,--especially Minna the youngest.
+It was on Easter-day that last I went over to see them;
+Wearing my best new coat, that is now hanging up in the closet,
+And having frizzled my hair, like that of the other young fellows.
+Soon as I entered, they tittered; but that not at me, as I fancied.
+Minna before the piano was seated; the father was present,
+Hearing his daughters sing, and full of delight and good-humor.
+Much I could not understand of all that was said in the singing;
+But of Pamina I often heard, and oft of Tamino:
+And I, besides, could not stay there dumb; so, as soon as she ended,
+Something about the words I asked, and about the two persons.
+Thereupon all were silent and smiled; but the father made answer:
+'Thou knowest no one, my friend, I believe, but Adam and Eve?'
+No one restrained himself longer, but loud laughed out then the maidens,
+Loud laughed out the boys, the old man held his sides for his laughing.
+I, in embarrassment, dropped my hat, and the giggling continued,
+On and on and on, for all they kept playing and singing.
+Back to the house here I hurried, o'ercome with shame and vexation,
+Hung up my coat in the closet, and pulled out the curls with my fingers,
+Swearing that never again my foot should cross over that threshold.
+And I was perfectly right; for vain are the maidens, and heartless.
+E'en to this day, as I hear, I am called by them ever 'Tamino.'"
+
+Thereupon answered the mother, and said: "Thou shouldest not, Hermann,
+Be so long vexed with the children: indeed, they are all of them children.
+Minna, believe me, is good, and was always disposed to thee kindly.
+'Twas not long since she was asking about thee. Let her be thy chosen!"
+
+Thoughtfully answered the son: "I know not. That mortification
+Stamped itself in me so deeply, I never could bear to behold her
+Seated before the piano or listen again to her singing."
+
+Forth broke the father then, and in words of anger made answer:
+"Little of joy will my life have in thee! I said it would be so
+When I perceived that thy pleasure was solely in horses and farming:
+Work which a servant, indeed, performs for an opulent master,
+That thou doest; the father meanwhile must his son be deprived of,
+Who should appear as his pride, in the sight of the rest of the townsmen.
+Early with empty hopes thy mother was wont to deceive me,
+When in the school thy studies, thy reading and writing, would never
+As with the others succeed, but thy seat would be always the lowest.
+That comes about, forsooth, when a youth has no feeling of honor
+Dwelling within his breast, nor the wish to raise himself higher.
+Had but my father so cared for me as thou hast been cared for;
+If he had sent me to school, and provided me thus with instructors,
+I should be other, I trow, than host of the Golden Lion!"
+
+Then the son rose from his seat and noiselessly moved to the doorway,
+Slowly, and speaking no word. The father, however, in passion
+After him called, "Yes, go, thou obstinate fellow! I know thee!
+Go and look after the business henceforth, that I have not to chide thee;
+But do thou nowise imagine that ever a peasant-born maiden
+Thou for a daughter-in-law shalt bring into my dwelling, the hussy!
+Long have I lived in the world, and know how mankind should be dealt with;
+Know how to entertain ladies and gentlemen so that contented
+They shall depart from my house, and strangers agreeably can flatter.
+Yet I'm resolved that some day I one will have for a daughter,
+Who shall requite me in kind and sweeten my manifold labors;
+Who the piano shall play to me, too; so that there shall with pleasure
+All the handsomest people in town and the finest assemble,
+As they on Sundays do now in the house of our neighbor." Here Hermann
+Softly pressed on the latch, and so went out from the chamber.
+
+
+THALIA
+
+THE CITIZENS
+
+Thus did the modest son slip away from the angry up-braiding;
+But in the tone he had taken at first, the father continued:
+"That comes not out of a man which he has not in him; and hardly
+Shall the joy ever be mine of seeing my dearest wish granted:
+That my son may not as his father be, but a better.
+What would become of the house, and what of the city if each one
+Were not with pleasure and always intent on maintaining, renewing,
+Yea, and improving, too, as time and the foreigner teach us!
+Man is not meant, forsooth, to grow from the ground like a mushroom,
+Quickly to perish away on the spot of ground that begot him,
+Leaving no trace behind of himself and his animate action!
+As by the house we straightway can tell the mind of the master,
+So, when we walk through a city, we judge of the persons who rule it.
+For where the towers and walls are falling to ruin; where offal
+Lies in heaps in the gutters, and alleys with offal are littered;
+Where from its place has started the stone, and no one resets it;
+Where the timbers are rotting away, and the house is awaiting
+Vainly its new supports,--that place we may know is ill governed.
+Since if not from above work order and cleanliness downward,
+Easily grows the citizen used to untidy postponement;
+Just as the beggar grows likewise used to his ragged apparel.
+Therefore I wished that our Hermann might early set out on some travels;
+That he at least might behold the cities of Strasburg and Frankfort,
+Friendly Mannheim, too, that is cheerful and evenly builded.
+He that has once beheld cities so cleanly and large, never after
+Ceases his own native city, though small it may be, to embellish.
+Do not the strangers who come here commend the repairs in our gateway,
+Notice our whitewashed tower, and the church we have newly rebuilded?
+Are not all praising our pavement? the covered canals full of water,
+Laid with a wise distribution, which furnish us profit and safety,
+So that no sooner does fire break out than 'tis promptly arrested?
+Has not all this come to pass since the time of our great conflagration?
+Builder I six times was named by the council, and won the approval,
+Won moreover the heartfelt thanks of all the good burghers,
+Actively carrying out what I planned, and also fulfilling
+What had by upright men been designed, and left uncompleted.
+Finally grew the same zeal in every one of the council;
+All now labor together, and firmly decided already
+Stands it to build the new causeway that shall with the high-road
+                                                     connect us.
+But I am sorely afraid that will not be the way with our children.
+Some think only of pleasure and perishable apparel;
+Others will cower at home, and behind the stove will sit brooding.
+One of this kind, as I fear, we shall find to the last in our Hermann."
+
+Straightway answered and said the good and intelligent mother:
+"Why wilt thou always, father, be doing our son such injustice?
+That least of all is the way to bring thy wish to fulfilment.
+We have no power to fashion our children as suiteth our fancy;
+As they are given by God, we so must have them and love them;
+Teach them as best we can, and let each of them follow his nature.
+One will have talents of one sort, and different talents another.
+Every one uses his own; in his own individual fashion,
+Each must be happy and good. I will not have my Hermann found fault with;
+For he is worthy, I know, of the goods he shall one day inherit;
+Will be an excellent landlord, a pattern to burghers and builders;
+Neither in council, as I can foresee, will he be the most backward.
+But thou keepest shut up in his breast all the poor fellow's spirit,
+Finding such fault with him daily, and censuring as thou but now hast."
+And on the instant she quitted the room, and after him hurried,
+Hoping she somewhere might find him, and might with her words of affection
+Cheer him again, her excellent son, for well he deserved it.
+
+Thereupon when she was gone, the father thus smiling continued:
+"What a strange folk, to be sure, are these women; and just like
+                                                 the children;
+Both of them bent upon living according as suiteth their pleasure,
+While we others must never do aught but flatter and praise them.
+Once for all time holds good the ancients' trustworthy proverb:
+'Whoever goes not forward comes backward.' So must it be always."
+Thereupon answered and said, in a tone of reflection, the doctor:
+"That, sir neighbor, I willingly grant; for myself I am always
+Casting about for improvement,--things new, so they be not too costly.
+
+[Illustration: THE MOTHER DEFENDING HERMANN Ludwig Richter]
+
+But what profits a man, who has not abundance of money,
+Being thus active and stirring, and bettering inside and outside?
+Only too much is the citizen cramped: the good, though he know it,
+Has he no means to acquire because too slender his purse is,
+While his needs are too great; and thus is he constantly hampered.
+Many things I had done; but then the cost of such changes
+Who does not fear, especially now in this season of danger?
+Long since my house was smiling upon me in modish apparel!
+Long since great panes of glass were gleaming in all of the windows!
+But who can do as the merchant does, who, with his resources,
+Knows the methods as well by which the best is arrived at?
+Look at that house over yonder,--the new one; behold with what splendor
+'Gainst the background of green stand out the white spirals of stucco!
+Great are the panes in the windows; and how the glass sparkles
+                                                and glitters,
+Casting quite into the shade the rest of the market-place houses!
+Yet just after the fire were our two houses the finest,
+This of the Golden Lion, and mine of the sign of the Angel.
+So was my garden, too, throughout the whole neighborhood famous:
+Every traveller stopped and gazed through the red palisadoes,
+Caught by the beggars there carved in stone and the dwarfs of
+                                             bright colors.
+Then whosoever had coffee served in the beautiful grotto,--
+Standing there now all covered with dust and partly in ruins,--
+Used to be mightily pleased with the glimmering light of the mussels
+Spread out in beautiful order; and even the eye of the critic
+Used by the sight of my corals and potter's ore to be dazzled.
+So in my parlor, too, they would always admire the painting,
+Where in a garden are gaily dressed ladies and gentlemen walking,
+And with their taper fingers are plucking and holding the flowers.
+But who would look at it now! In sooth, so great my vexation
+Scarcely I venture abroad. All now must be other and tasteful,
+So they call it; and white are the laths and benches of woodwork;
+Everything simple and smooth; no carving longer or gilding
+Can be endured, and the woods from abroad are of all the most costly.
+Well, I, too, should be glad could I get for myself something novel;
+Glad to keep up with the times, and be changing my furniture often;
+Yet must we all be afraid of touching the veriest trifle.
+For who among us has means for paying the work-people's wages?
+Lately I had an idea of giving the Archangel Michael,
+Making the sign of my shop, another fresh coating of gilding,
+And to the terrible dragon about his feet that is winding;
+But I e'en let him stay browned as he is: I dreaded the charges."
+
+
+EUTERPE
+
+MOTHER AND SON
+
+Thus entertaining themselves, the men sat talking. The mother
+Went meanwhile to look for her son in front of the dwelling,
+First on the settle of stone, whereon 'twas his wont to be seated.
+When she perceived him not there, she went farther to look in the stable,
+If he were caring perhaps for his noble horses, the stallions,
+Which he as colts had bought, and whose care he intrusted to no one.
+And by the servant she there was told: He is gone to the garden.
+Then with a nimble step she traversed the long, double court-yards,
+Leaving the stables behind, and the well-builded barns, too, behind her;
+Entered the garden, that far as the walls of the city extended;
+Walked through its length, rejoiced as she went in every thing growing;
+Set upright the supports on which were resting the branches
+Heavily laden with apples, and burdening boughs of the pear-tree.
+Next some caterpillars removed from a stout, swelling cabbage;
+For an industrious woman allows no step to be wasted.
+Thus was she come at last to the end of the far-reaching garden,
+Where stood the arbor embowered in woodbine; nor there did she find him,
+More than she had hitherto in all her search through the garden.
+But the wicket was standing ajar, which out of the arbor,
+Once by particular favor, had been through the walls of the city
+Cut by a grandsire of hers, the worshipful burgomaster.
+So the now dried-up moat she next crossed over with comfort,
+Where, by the side of the road, direct the well-fenced vine-yard,
+Rose with a steep ascent, its slope exposed to the sunshine.
+Up this also she went, and with pleasure as she was ascending
+Marked the wealth of the clusters, that scarce by their leafage
+                                                  were hidden.
+Shady and covered the way through the lofty middlemost alley,
+Which upon steps that were made of unhewn blocks you ascended.
+There were the Muscatel, and there were the Chasselas hanging
+Side by side, of unusual size and colored with purple,
+All set out with the purpose of decking the visitor's table;
+While with single vine-stocks the rest of the hillside was covered,
+Bearing inferior clusters, from which the delicate wine comes.
+Thus up the slopes she went, enjoying already the vintage,
+And that festive day on which the whole country, rejoicing,
+Picks and tramples the grapes, and gathers the must into vessels:
+Fireworks, when it is evening, from every direction and corner
+Crackle and blaze, and so the fairest of harvests is honored.
+But more uneasy she went, her son after twice or thrice calling,
+And no answer receiving, except from the talkative echo,
+That with many repeats rang back from the towers of the city.
+Strange it was for her to seek him; he never had gone to a distance
+That he told her not first, to spare his affectionate mother
+Every anxious thought, and fear that aught ill had befallen.
+Still did she constantly hope that, if further she went, she should
+                                                         find him;
+For the two doors of the vineyard, the lower as well as the upper,
+Both were alike standing open. So now she entered the corn-field,
+That with its broad expanse the ridge of the hill covered over.
+Still was the ground that she walked on her own; and the crops she
+                                                  rejoiced in,--
+All of them still were hers, and hers was the proud-waving grain, too,
+Over the whole broad field in golden strength that was stirring.
+Keeping the ridgeway, the footpath, between the fields she went onward,
+Having the lofty pear-tree in view, which stood on the summit,
+And was the boundary-mark of the fields that belonged to her dwelling.
+Who might have planted it, none could know, but visible was it
+Far and wide through the country; the fruit of the pear-tree was famous.
+'Neath it the reapers were wont to enjoy their meal at the noon-day,
+And the shepherds were used to tend their flocks in its shadow.
+Benches of unhewn stones and of turf they found set about it.
+And she had not been mistaken, for there sat her Hermann, and rested,--
+Sat with his head on his hand, and seemed to be viewing the landscape
+That to the mountains lay: his back was turned to his mother.
+Toward him softly she crept, and lightly touched on the shoulder;
+Quick he turned himself round; there were tears in his eyes as he met her.
+
+"Mother, how hast thou surprised me!" he said in confusion; and quickly
+Wiped the high-spirited youth his tears away. But the mother,
+"What! do I find thee weeping, my son?" exclaimed in amazement.
+"Nay, that is not like thyself: I never before have so seen thee!
+Tell me, what burdens thy heart? what drives thee here, to be sitting
+Under the pear-tree alone? These tears in thine eyes, what has
+                                              brought them?"
+
+Then, collecting himself, the excellent youth made her answer:
+"Truly no heart can that man have in his bosom of iron,
+Who is insensible now to the needs of this emigrant people;
+He has no brains in his head, who not for his personal safety,
+Not for his fatherland's weal, in days like the present is anxious.
+Deeply my heart had been touched by the sights and sounds of the morning;
+Then I went forth and beheld the broad and glorious landscape
+Spreading its fertile slopes in every direction about us,
+Saw the golden grain inclining itself to the reapers,
+And the promise of well-filled barns from the plentiful harvest.
+
+[Illustration:  MOTHER AND SON Ludwig Richter]
+
+But, alas, how near is the foe! The Rhine with its waters
+Guards us, indeed; but, ah, what now are rivers and mountains
+'Gainst that terrible people that onward bears like a tempest!
+For they summon their youths from every quarter together,
+Call up their old men too, and press with violence forward.
+Death cannot frighten the crowd: one multitude follows another.
+And shall a German dare to linger behind in his homestead?
+Hopes he perhaps to escape the everywhere threatened evil?
+Nay, dear mother, I tell thee, today has made me regretful
+That I was lately exempt, when out of our townsmen were chosen
+Those who should serve in the army. An only son I am truly,
+Also our business is great, and the charge of our household is weighty.
+Yet were it better, I deem, in the front to offer resistance
+There on the border, than here to await disaster and bondage.
+So has my spirit declared, and deep in my innermost bosom
+Courage and longing have now been aroused to live for my country,
+Yea, and to die, presenting to others a worthy example.
+If but the strength of Germany's youth were banded together
+There on the frontier, resolved that it never would yield to the stranger,
+Ah, he should not on our glorious soil be setting his footsteps,
+Neither consuming before our eyes the fruit of our labor,
+Ruling our men, and making his prey of our wives and our daughters.
+Hark to me, mother: for I in the depths of my heart am determined
+Quickly to do, and at once, what appears to me right and in reason;
+For he chooses not always the best who longest considers.
+Hearken, I shall not again return to the house; but directly
+Go from this spot to the city, and there present to the soldiers
+This right arm and this heart, to be spent in the fatherland's service.
+Then let my father say if there be no feeling of honor
+Dwelling within my breast, nor a wish to raise myself higher."
+
+Then with significant words spoke the good and intelligent mother,
+While from her eyes the quick-starting tears were silently falling:
+"Son, what change has come o'er thee today, and over thy temper,
+That thou speakest no more, as thou yesterday didst, and hast always,
+Open and free, to thy mother, and tellest exactly thy wishes?
+Any one else, had he heard thee thus speak, would in sooth have commended,
+And this decision of thine would have highly approved as most noble,
+Being misled by thy tone and by thy significant language.
+Yet have I nothing but censure to speak; for better I know thee.
+Thou concealest thy heart, and thy thoughts are not such as thou tellest.
+Well do I know that it is not the drum, not the trumpet that calls thee:
+Neither in uniform wouldst thou figure in sight of the maidens;
+Since, for all thou art honest and brave, it is thy vocation
+Here in quiet to care for the farm and provide for the household.
+Tell me honestly, therefore, what goads thee to such a decision?"
+
+ Earnestly answered the son: "Nay, thou art mistaken, dear mother:
+One day is not like another. The youth matures into manhood:
+Better in stillness oft ripening to deeds than when in the tumult
+Wildering and wild of existence, that many a youth has corrupted.
+And, for as still as I am and was always, there yet in my bosom
+Has such a heart been shaped as abhors all wrong and injustice;
+And I have learned aright between worldly things to distinguish.
+Arm and foot, besides, have been mightily strengthened by labor.
+All this, I feel, is true: I dare with boldness maintain it.
+Yet dost thou blame me with reason, O mother! for thou hast surprised me
+Using a language half truthful and half that of dissimulation.
+For, let me honestly own,--it is not the near danger that calls me
+Forth from my father's house; nor is it the lofty ambition
+Helpful to be to my country, and terrible unto the foeman.
+They were but words that I spoke: they only were meant for concealing
+Those emotions from thee with which my heart is distracted;
+And so leave me, O mother! for, since the wishes are fruitless
+Which in my bosom I cherish, my life must go fruitlessly over.
+For, as I know, he injures himself who is singly devoted,
+When for the common cause the whole are not working together."
+
+ "Hesitate not," replied thereupon the intelligent mother,
+"Every thing to relate me, the smallest as well as the greatest.
+Men will always be hasty, their thoughts to extremes ever running:
+Easily out of their course the hasty are turned by a hindrance.
+Whereas a woman is clever in thinking of means, and will venture
+E'en on a roundabout way, adroitly to compass her object.
+Let me know every thing, then; say wherefore so greatly excited
+As I ne'er saw thee before, why thy blood is coursing so hotly,
+Wherefore, against thy will, tears are filling thine eyes to o'erflowing."
+
+Then he abandoned himself, the poor boy, to his sorrow, and weeping,
+Weeping aloud on his kind mother's breast, he brokenly answered:
+"Truly my father's words today have wounded me sorely,--
+Words which I have not deserved; not today, nor at any time have I:
+For it was early my greatest delight to honor my parents.
+No one knew more, so I deemed, or was wiser than those who begot me,
+And had with strictness ruled throughout the dark season of childhood.
+Many the things, in truth, I with patience endured from my playmates,
+When the good-will that I bore them they often requited with malice.
+Often I suffered their flings and their blows to pass unresented;
+But if they ventured to ridicule father, when he of a Sunday
+Home from Church would come, with his solemn and dignified bearing;
+If they made fun of his cap-string, or laughed at the flowers of
+                                                   the wrapper
+He with such stateliness wore, which was given away but this morning--
+Threateningly doubled my fist in an instant; with furious passion
+Fell I upon them, and struck out and hit, assailing them blindly,
+Seeing not where. They howled as the blood gushed out from their noses:
+Scarcely they made their escape from my passionate kicking and beating.
+Then, as I older grew, I had much to endure from my father;
+Violent words he oft vented on me, instead of on others,
+When, at the board's last session, the council had roused his displeasure,
+And I was made to atone for the quarrels and wiles of his colleagues.
+Thou has pitied me often thyself; for much did I suffer,
+Ever remembering with cordial respect the kindness of parents,
+Solely intent on increasing for us their goods and possessions,
+Much denying themselves in order to save for their children.
+But, alas! saving alone, for the sake of a tardy enjoyment,--
+That is not happiness: pile upon pile, and acre on acre,
+Make us not happy, no matter how fair our estates may be rounded.
+For the father grows old, and with him will grow old the children,
+Losing the joy of the day, and bearing the care of tomorrow.
+Look thou below, and see how before us in glory are lying,
+Fair and abundant, the corn-fields; beneath them, the vineyard and garden;
+Yonder the stables and barns; our beautiful line of possessions.
+But when I look at the dwelling behind, where up in the gable
+We can distinguish the window that marks my room in the attic;
+When I look back, and remember how many a night from that window
+I for the moon have watched; for the sun, how many a morning!
+When the healthful sleep of a few short hours sufficed me,--
+Ah, so lonely they seem to me then, the chamber and courtyard,
+Garden and glorious field, away o'er the hill that is stretching;
+All so desert before me lie: 'tis the wife that is wanting."
+
+Thereupon spoke the good mother, and thus with intelligence answered:
+"Son, not greater thy wish to bring thee a bride to thy chamber,
+That thou mayst find thy nights a beautiful part of existence,
+And that the work of the day may gain independence and freedom,
+Than is thy father's wish too, and thy mother's. We always have
+                                                 counselled,--
+Yea, we have even insisted,--that thou shouldst elect thee a maiden.
+But I was ever aware, and now my heart gives me assurance,
+That till the hour appointed is come, and the maiden appointed
+Shall with the hour appear, the choice will be left for the future,
+While more strong than all else will be fear of grasping the wrong one.
+If I may say it, my son, I believe thou already hast chosen;
+For thy heart has been touched, and been made more than wontedly tender.
+Speak it out honestly, then; for my soul has told me before-hand:
+That same maiden it is, the exile, whom thou hast elected."
+
+"Thou hast said, mother!" the son thereupon with eagerness answered.
+"Yes, it is she; and if I today as my bride do not bring her
+Home to our dwelling, she from me will go, perhaps vanish for ever,
+Lost in the war's confusion and sad movings hither and thither.
+Mother, forever in vain would then our abundant possessions
+Prosper before me, and seasons to come be in vain to me fruitful.
+Yea, I should hold in aversion the wonted house and the garden:
+Even my mother's love, alas! would not comfort my sorrow.
+Every tie, so I feel in my heart, by love is unloosened
+Soon as she fastens her own; and not the maid is it only
+Leaves behind father and mother, to follow the man she has chosen.
+He too, the youth, no longer knows aught of mother and father,
+When he the maiden, his only beloved, sees vanishing from him.
+Suffer me, then, to go hence wherever despair shall impel me:
+Since by my father himself the decisive words have been spoken;
+Since his house can no longer be mine if he shut out the maiden,
+Her whom alone as my bride I desire to bring to our dwelling."
+
+Thereupon quickly made answer the good and intelligent mother:
+"How like to rocks, forsooth, two men will stand facing each other!
+Proud and not to be moved, will neither draw near to his fellow;
+Neither will stir his tongue to utter the first word of kindness.
+Therefore I tell thee, my son, a hope yet lives in my bosom,
+So she be honest and good, thy father will let thee espouse her,
+Even though poor, and against a poor girl so decisive his sentence.
+Many a thing he is wont to speak out in his violent fashion
+Which he yet never performs; and so what he denies will consent to.
+Yet he requires a kindly word, and is right to require it:
+He is the father! Besides, we know that his wrath after dinner,--
+When he most hastily speaks, and questions all others' opinions,--
+Signifies naught; the full force of his violent will is excited
+Then by the wine, which lets him not heed the language of others;
+None but himself does he see and feel. But now is come evening,
+Talk upon various subjects has passed between him and his neighbors.
+Gentle, he is; I am sure, now his little excitement is over,
+And he can feel how unjust his passion has made him to others.
+Come, let us venture at once: success is alone to the valiant!
+Further we need the friends, still sitting together there with him;
+And in especial the worthy pastor will give us assistance."
+
+Thus she hastily spoke, and up from the stone then arising,
+Drew from his seat her son, who willingly followed. In silence
+Both descended the hill, their important purpose revolving.
+
+
+POLYHYMNIA
+
+THE CITIZEN OF THE WORLD
+
+There the three men, however, still sat conversing together,
+With mine host of the Lion, the village doctor, and pastor;
+And their talk was still on the same unvarying subject,
+Turning it this way and that, and viewing from every direction.
+But with his sober judgment the excellent pastor made answer:
+"Here will I not contradict you. I know that man should be always
+Striving for that which is better; indeed, as we see, he is reaching
+Always after the higher, at least some novelty craving.
+But be careful ye go not too far, for with this disposition
+Nature has given us pleasure in holding to what is familiar;
+Taught us in that to delight to which we have long been accustomed.
+Every condition is good that is founded on reason and nature.
+Many are man's desires, yet little it is that he needeth;
+Seeing the days are short and mortal destiny bounded.
+Ne'er would I censure the man whom a restless activity urges,
+Bold and industrious, over all pathways of land and of ocean,
+Ever untiring to roam; who takes delight in the riches,
+Heaping in generous abundance about himself and his children.
+Yet not unprized by me is the quiet citizen also,
+Making the noiseless round of his own inherited acres,
+Tilling the ground as the ever-returning seasons command him.
+Not with every year is the soil transfigured about him;
+Not in haste does the tree stretch forth, as soon as 'tis planted,
+Full-grown arms toward heaven and decked with plenteous blossoms.
+No: man has need of patience, and needful to him are also
+Calmness and clearness of mind, and a pure and right understanding.
+Few are the seeds he intrusts to earth's all-nourishing bosom;
+Few are the creatures he knows how to raise and bring to perfection.
+Centred are all his thoughts alone on that which is useful.
+Happy to whom by nature a mind of such temper is given,
+For he supports us all! And hail, to the man whose abode is
+Where in a town the country pursuits with the city are blended.
+On him lies not the pressure that painfully hampers the farmer,
+Nor is he carried away by the greedy ambition of cities;
+Where they of scanty possessions too often are given to aping,
+Wives and daughters especially, those who are higher and richer.
+Blessed be therefore thy son in his life of quiet employment;
+Blessed the wife, of like mind with himself, whom he one day shall
+                                                     choose him."
+
+Thus he spoke; and scarce had he ended when entered the mother,
+Holding her son by the hand, and so led him up to her husband.
+"Father," she said, "how oft when we two have been chatting together,
+Have we rejoiced in the thought of Hermann's future espousal,
+When he should bring his bride to be the light of our dwelling!
+Over and over again the matter we pondered: this maiden
+Fixing upon for him first, and then that, with the gossip of parents.
+But that day is now come; and Heaven at last has the maiden
+Brought to him hither, and shown him; and now his heart has decided.
+Said we not always then he should have his own choice in the matter?
+Was it not just now thy wish that he might with lively affection
+Feel himself drawn to some maiden? The hour is come that we hoped for.
+Yes; he has felt and has chosen and come to a manly decision.
+That same maiden it is that met him this morning, the stranger:
+Say he may have her, or else, as he swears, his life shall be single."
+
+"Give her me, father," so added the son: "my heart has elected
+Clear and sure; she will be to you both the noblest of daughters."
+
+But the father was silent. Then hastily rose the good pastor,
+Took up the word and said: "The moment alone is decisive;
+Fixes the life of man, and his future destiny settles.
+After long taking of counsel, yet only the work of a moment
+Every decision must be; and the wise alone seizes the right one.
+Dangerous always it is comparing the one with the other
+When we are making our choice, and so confusing our feelings.
+Hermann is pure. From childhood up I have known him, and never
+E'en as a boy was he wont to be reaching for this and the other:
+What he desired was best for him too, and he held to it firmly.
+Be not surprised and alarmed that now has appeared of a sudden,
+What thou hast wished for so long. It is true that the present appearance
+Bears not the form of the wish, exactly as thou hadst conceived it:
+For our wishes oft hide from ourselves the object we wish for;
+Gifts come down from above in the shapes appointed by Heaven.
+Therefore misjudge not the maiden who now of thy dearly beloved,
+Good and intelligent son has been first to touch the affections:
+Happy to whom at once his first love's hand shall be given,
+And in whose heart no tenderest wish must secretly languish.
+Yes: his whole bearing assures me that now his fate is decided.
+Genuine love matures in a moment the youth into manhood;
+He is not easily moved; and I fear that if this be refused him,
+Sadly his years will go by, those years that should be the fairest."
+
+Straightway then in a thoughtful tone the doctor made answer,
+On whose tongue for a long time past the words had been trembling:
+"Pray let us here as before pursue the safe middle course only.
+Make haste slowly: that was Augustus the emperor's motto.
+Willingly I myself place at my well-beloved neighbor's disposal,
+Ready to do him what service I can with my poor understanding.
+Youth most especially stands in need of some one to guide it.
+Let me therefore go forth that I may examine the maiden,
+And may question the people among whom she lives and who know her.
+Me 'tis not easy to cheat: I know how words should be valued."
+
+Straightway the son broke in, and with winged words made he answer:
+"Do so, neighbor, and go and make thine inquiries; but with thee
+I should be glad if our minister here were joined in the errand:
+Two such excellent men would be irreproachable judges.
+O my father! believe me, she's none of those wandering maidens,
+Not one of those who stroll through the land in search of adventure,
+And who seek to ensnare inexperienced youth in their meshes.
+No: the hard fortunes of war, that universal destroyer,
+Which is convulsing the earth and has hurled from its deep foundations
+Many a structure already, have sent the poor girl into exile.
+Are not now men of high birth, the most noble, in misery roaming?
+Princes fly in disguise and kings are in banishment living.
+So alas! also is she, the best among all of her sisters,
+Driven an exile from home; yet, her personal sorrows forgetting,
+She is devoted to others; herself without help, she is helpful.
+Great is the want and the suffering over the earth that are spreading:
+Shall not some happiness, too, be begotten of all this affliction,
+And shall not I in the arms of my wife, my trusted companion,
+Look back with joy to the war, as do ye to the great conflagration?"
+
+Outspoke the father then in a tone of decision, and answered:
+"Strangely thy tongue has been loosened, my son, which many a year past
+Seemed to have stuck in thy mouth, and only to move on compulsion!
+I must experience to-day, it would seem, what threatens all fathers,
+That the son's headstrong will the mother with readiness favors,
+Showing too easy indulgence; and every neighbor sides with them
+When there is aught to be carried against the father and husband.
+But I will not oppose you, thus banded together: how could I?
+For I already perceive here tears and defiance before-hand.
+Go ye therefore, inquire, in God's name, bring me the daughter.
+But if not so, then the boy is to think no more of the maiden."
+
+Thus the father. The son cried out with joyful demeanor,
+"Ere it is evening the noblest of daughters shall hither be brought you,
+Such as no man with sound sense in his breast can fail to be pleased with.
+Happy, I venture to hope, will be also the excellent maiden.
+Yes; she will ever be grateful for having had father and mother
+Given once more in you, and such as a child most delights in.
+Now I will tarry no longer, but straightway harness the horses,
+Drive forth our friends at once on the footsteps of my beloved,
+Leaving them then to act for themselves, as their wisdom shall dictate,
+Guide myself wholly, I promise, according to what they determine,
+And, until I may call her my own, ne'er look on the maiden."
+Thus he went forth: the others meanwhile remained in discussion,
+Rapid and earnest, considering deeply their great undertaking.
+
+Hermann hasted straightway to the stable, where quietly standing
+Found he the spirited stallions, the clean oats quickly devouring,
+And the well-dried hay that was cut from the richest of meadows.
+On them without delay the shining bits he adjusted,
+Hastily drew the straps through the buckles of beautiful plating,
+Firmly fastened then the long broad reins, and the horses
+Led without to the court-yard, whither the willing assistant
+Had with ease, by the pole, already drawn forward the carriage.
+Next to the whipple-tree they with care by the neatly kept traces
+Joined the impetuous strength of the freely travelling horses.
+Whip in hand took Hermann his seat and drove under the doorway.
+Soon as the friends straightway their commodious places had taken,
+Quickly the carriage rolled off, and left the pavement behind it,
+Left behind it the walls of the town and the fresh-whitened towers.
+Thus drove Hermann on till he came to the well-known causeway.
+Rapidly, loitering nowhere, but hastening up hill and down hill.
+But as he now before him perceived the spire of the village,
+And no longer remote the garden-girt houses were lying,
+Then in himself he thought that here he would rein up the horses.
+
+Under the solemn shade of lofty linden-trees lying,
+Which for centuries past upon this spot had been rooted,
+Spread in front of the village a broad and grass-covered common,
+Favorite place of resort for the peasants and neighboring townsfolk.
+Here, at the foot of the trees, sunk deep in the ground was a well-spring;
+When you descended the steps, stone benches you found at the bottom,
+Stationed about the spring, whose pure, living waters were bubbling
+Ceaselessly forth, hemmed in by low walls for convenience of drawing.
+Hermann resolved that here he would halt, with his horses and carriage,
+Under the shade of the trees. He did so, and said to the others:
+"Here alight, my friends, and go your ways to discover
+Whether the maiden in truth be worthy the hand that I offer.
+That she is so, I believe; naught new or strange will ye tell me.
+Had I to act for myself, I should go with speed to the village,
+Where a few words from the maiden's own lips should determine my fortune.
+Ye will with readiness single her out from all of the others,
+For there can scarcely be one that to her may be likened in bearing.
+But I will give you, besides, her modest attire for a token:
+Mark, then, the stomacher's scarlet, that sets off the arch of her bosom,
+Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fitting close to her figure;
+Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle,
+Which with a simple grace her chin's rounded outline encircles;
+Freely and lightly rises above it the head's dainty oval;
+And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided;
+Down from under her bodice, the full, blue petticoat falling,
+Wraps itself, when she is walking, about her neatly shaped ankles.
+Yet one thing will I say, and would make it my earnest petition,--
+Speak not yourselves with the maiden, nor let your intent be discovered;
+Rather inquire of others, and hearken to what they may tell you.
+When ye have tidings enough to satisfy father and mother,
+Then return to me here, and we will consider what further.
+So did I plan it all out in my mind while driving you hither."
+
+Thus he spoke. The friends thereupon went their way to the village,
+Where, in the houses and gardens and barns, the people were swarming;
+Wagons on wagons stood crowded together along the broad highway.
+Men for the harnessed horses and lowing cattle were caring,
+While the women were busy in drying their clothes on the hedges,
+And in the running brook the children were merrily splashing.
+Making their way through the pressure of wagons, of people and cattle,
+Went the commissioned spies, and to right and to left looked about them,
+If they a figure might see that answered the maiden's description;
+But not one of them all appeared the beautiful damsel.
+Denser soon grew the press. A contest arose round the wagons
+'Mongst the threatening men, wherein blended the cries of the women.
+Rapidly then to the spot, and with dignified step, came an elder,
+Joined the clamoring group, and straightway the uproar was silenced,
+As he commanded peace, and rebuked with a fatherly sternness.
+"Has, then, misfortune," he cried, "not yet so bound us together,
+That we have finally learned to bear and forbear one another,
+Though each one, it may be, do not measure his share of the labor?
+He that is happy, forsooth, is contentious! Will sufferings never
+Teach you to cease from your brawls of old between brother and brother?
+Grudge not one to another a place on the soil of the stranger;
+Rather divide what ye have, as yourselves ye would hope to find mercy."
+
+[Illustration: THE EMIGRANTS IN THE VILLAGE  Ludwig Richter]
+
+Thus spoke the man and all became silent: restored to good humor,
+Peaceably then the people arranged their cattle and wagons.
+But when the clergyman now had heard what was said by the stranger,
+And had the steadfast mind of the foreign justice discovered,
+He to the man drew near and with words of meaning addressed him:
+"True it is, father, that when in prosperity people are living,
+Feeding themselves from the earth, which far and wide opens her bosom,
+And in the years and months renews the coveted blessings,--
+All goes on of itself, and each himself deems the wisest,
+Deems the best, and so they continue abiding together,
+He of greatest intelligence ranking no higher than others;
+All that occurs, as if of itself, going quietly forward.
+But let disaster unsettle the usual course of existence,
+Tear down the buildings about us, lay waste the crops and the garden,
+Banish the husband and wife from their old, familiar-grown dwelling,
+Drive them to wander abroad through nights and days of privation,--
+Then, ah then! we look round us to see what man is the wisest,
+And no longer in vain his glorious words will be spoken.
+Tell me, art thou not judge among this fugitive people,
+Father, who thus in an instant canst bid their passions be quiet?
+Thou dost appear to-day as one of those earliest leaders,
+Who through deserts and wanderings guided the emigrant nations.
+Yea, I could even believe I were speaking with Joshua or Moses."
+
+Then with serious look the magistrate answered him, saying:
+"Truly our times might well be compared with all others in strangeness,
+Which are in history mentioned, profane or sacred tradition;
+For who has yesterday lived and to-day in times like the present,
+He has already lived years, events are so crowded together.
+If I look back but a little, it seems that my head must be hoary
+Under the burden of years, and yet my strength is still active.
+Well may we of this day compare ourselves unto that people
+Who, from the burning bush, beheld in the hour of their danger
+God the Lord: we also in cloud and in fire have beheld Him."
+
+Seeing the priest was inclined to speak yet more with the stranger,
+And was desirous of learning his story and that of his people,
+Privately into his ear his companion hastily whispered:
+"Talk with the magistrate further, and lead him to speak of the maiden.
+I, however, will wander in search, and as soon as I find her,
+Come and report to thee here." The minister nodded, assenting;
+And through the gardens, hedges, and barns, went the spy on his errand.
+
+
+CLIO
+
+THE AGE
+
+Now when the foreign judge had been by the minister questioned
+As to his people's distress, and how long their exile had lasted,
+Thus made answer the man: "Of no recent date are our sorrows;
+Since of the gathering bitter of years our people have drunken,--
+Bitterness all the more dreadful because such fair hope had been blighted.
+Who will pretend to deny that his heart swelled high in his bosom,
+And that his freer breast with purer pulses was beating,
+When we beheld the new sun arise in his earliest splendor,
+When of the rights of men we heard, which to all should be common,
+Were of a righteous equality told, and inspiriting freedom?
+Every one hoped that then he should live his own life, and the fetters,
+Binding the various lands, appeared their hold to be loosing,--
+Fetters that had in the hand of sloth been held and self-seeking.
+Looked not the eyes of all nations, throughout that calamitous season,
+Toward the world's capital city, for so it had long been considered,
+And of that glorious title was now, more than ever, deserving?
+Were not the names of those men who first delivered the message,
+Names to compare with the highest that under the heavens are spoken?
+Did not, in every man, grow courage and spirit and language?
+And, as neighbors, we, first of all, were zealously kindled.
+Thereupon followed the war, and armed bodies of Frenchmen
+Pressed to us nearer; yet nothing but friendship they seemed to be
+                                                       bringing;
+Ay, and they brought it too; for exalted the spirit within them:
+They with rejoicing the festive trees of liberty planted,
+Promising every man what was his own, and to each his own ruling.
+High beat the heart of the youths, and even the aged were joyful;
+Gaily the dance began about the newly raised standard.
+Thus had they speedily won, these overmastering Frenchmen,
+First the spirits of men by the fire and dash of their bearing,
+Then the hearts of the women with irresistible graces.
+Even the pressure of hungry war seemed to weigh on us lightly,
+So before our vision did hope hang over the future,
+Luring our eyes abroad into newly opening pathways.
+Oh, how joyful the time when with her beloved the maiden
+Whirls in the dance, the longed-for day of their union awaiting!
+But more glorious that day on which to our vision the highest
+Heart of man can conceive seemed near and attainable to us.
+Loosened was every tongue, and men--the aged, the stripling--
+Spoke aloud in words that were full of high feeling and wisdom.
+Soon, however, the sky was o'ercast. A corrupt generation
+Fought for the right of dominion, unworthy the good to establish;
+So that they slew one another, their new-made neighbors and brothers
+Held in subjection, and then sent the self-seeking masses against us.
+Chiefs committed excesses and wholesale plunder upon us,
+While those lower plundered and rioted down to the lowest:
+Every one seemed but to care that something be left for the morrow.
+Great past endurance the need, and daily grew the oppression:
+They were the lords of the day; there was none to hear our complaining.
+Then fell trouble and rage upon even the quietest spirit.
+One thought only had all, and swore for their wrongs to have vengeance,
+And for the bitter loss of their hope thus doubly deluded.
+Presently Fortune turned and declared on the side of the German,
+And with hurried marches the French retreated before us.
+Ah! then as never before did we feel the sad fortunes of warfare:
+He that is victor is great and good,--or at least he appears so,--
+And he, as one of his own, will spare the man he has conquered,
+Him whose service he daily needs, and whose property uses.
+But no law the fugitive knows, save of self-preservation,
+And, with a reckless greed, consumes all the possessions about him;
+Then are his passions also inflamed: the despair that is in him
+Out of his heart breaks forth, and takes shape in criminal action.
+Nothing is further held sacred; but all is for plunder. His craving
+Turns in fury on woman, and pleasure is changed into horror.
+Death he sees everywhere round him, and madly enjoys his last moments,
+Taking delight in blood, in the shriekings of anguish exulting.
+Thereupon fiercely arose in our men the stern resolution
+What had been lost to avenge, and defend what'er was remaining.
+Every man sprang to his arms, by the flight of the foeman encouraged,
+And by his blanching cheeks, and his timorous, wavering glances.
+Ceaselessly now rang out the clanging peal of the tocsin.
+Thought of no danger to come restrained their furious anger.
+Quick into weapons of war the husbandman's peaceful utensils
+All were converted; dripped with blood the scythe and the ploughshare.
+Quarter was shown to none: the enemy fell without mercy.
+Fury everywhere raged and the cowardly cunning of weakness.
+Ne'er may I men so carried away by injurious passion
+See again! the sight of the raging wild beast would be better.
+Let not man prattle of freedom, as if himself he could govern!
+Soon as the barriers are torn away, then all of the evil
+Seems let loose, that by law had been driven deep back into corners."
+
+"Excellent man!" thereupon with emphasis answered the pastor:
+"Though thou misjudgest mankind, yet can I not censure thee for it.
+Evil enough, I confess, thou hast had to endure from man's passions.
+Yet wouldst thou look behind over this calamitous season,
+Thou wouldst acknowledge thyself how much good thou also hast witnessed.
+How many excellent things that would in the heart have lain hidden,
+Had not danger aroused them, and did not necessity's pressure
+Bring forth the angel in man, and make him a god of deliv'rance."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the reverend magistrate, smiling:
+"There thou remindest me aptly of how we console the poor fellow,
+After his house has been burned, by recounting the gold and the silver
+Melted and scattered abroad in the rubbish, that still is remaining.
+Little enough, it is true; but even that little is precious.
+Then will the poor wretch after it dig and rejoice if he find it.
+Thus I likewise with happier thoughts will gratefully turn me
+Toward the few beautiful deeds of which I preserve the remembrance.
+Yes, I will not deny, I have seen old quarrels forgotten,
+Ill to avert from the state; I also have witnessed how friendship,
+Love of parent and child, can impossibilities venture;
+Seen how the stripling at once matured into man; how the aged
+Grew again young; and even the child into youth was developed,
+Yea, and the weaker sex too, as we are accustomed to call it,
+Showed itself brave and strong and ready for every emergence.
+Foremost among them all, one beautiful deed let me mention,
+Bravely performed by the hand of a girl, an excellent maiden,
+Who, with those younger than she, had been left in charge of a farmhouse,
+Since there, also, the men had marched against the invader.
+Suddenly fell on the house a fugitive band of marauders,
+Eager for booty, who crowded straightway to the room of the women.
+There they beheld the beautiful form of the fully grown maiden,
+Looked on the charming young girls, who rather might still be called
+                                                          children.
+Savage desire possessed them; at once with merciless passion
+They that trembling band assailed and the high-hearted maiden.
+But she had snatched in an instant the sword of one from its scabbard,
+Felled him with might to the ground, and stretched him bleeding before her.
+Then with vigorous strokes she bravely delivered the maidens,
+Smiting yet four of the robbers; who saved themselves only by flying.
+Then she bolted the gates, and, armed, awaited assistance."
+
+Now when this praise the minister heard bestowed on the maiden,
+Rose straightway for his friend a feeling of hope in his bosom,
+And he had opened his lips to inquire what further befell her,
+If on this mournful flight she now with her people were present;
+When with a hasty step the village doctor approached them,
+Twitched the clergyman's coat, and said in his ear in a whisper:
+"I have discovered the maiden at last among several hundreds;
+By the description I knew her, so come, let thine own eyes behold her!
+Bring too the magistrate with thee, that so we may hear him yet further."
+But as they turned to go, the justice was summoned to leave them,
+Sent for by some of his people by whom his counsel was needed.
+Straightway the preacher, however, the lead of the doctor had followed
+Up to a gap in the fence where his finger he meaningly pointed.
+"Seest thou the maiden?" he said: "she has made some clothes for the baby
+Out of the well-known chintz,--I distinguish it plainly; and further
+There are the covers of blue that Hermann gave in his bundle.
+Well and quickly, forsooth, she has turned to advantage the presents.
+Evident tokens are these, and all else answers well the description.
+Mark how the stomacher's scarlet sets off the arch of her bosom,
+Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fits close to her figure;
+Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle,
+Which, with a simple grace, her chin's rounded outline encircles;
+Freely and lightly rises above it the head's dainty oval,
+And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided.
+Now she is sitting, yet still we behold her majestical stature,
+And the blue petticoat's ample plaits, that down from her bosom
+Hangs in abundant folds about her neatly shaped ankles,
+She without question it is; come, therefore, and let us discover
+Whether she honest and virtuous be, a housewifely maiden."
+
+Then, as the seated figure he studied, the pastor made answer:
+"Truly, I find it no wonder that she so enchanted the stripling,
+Since, to a man's experienced eye, she seems lacking in nothing.
+Happy to whom mother Nature a shape harmonious has given!
+Such will always commend him, and he can be nowhere a stranger.
+All approach with delight, and all are delighted to linger,
+If to the outward shape correspond but a courteous spirit.
+I can assure thee, in her the youth has found him a maiden,
+Who, in the days to come, his life shall gloriously brighten,
+Standing with womanly strength in every necessity by him.
+Surely the soul must be pure that inhabits a body so perfect,
+And of a happy old age such vigorous youth is the promise."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the doctor in language of caution:
+"Often appearances cheat; I like not to trust to externals.
+
+[Illustration: THE PARSON AND THE APOTHECARY WATCH DOROTHEA Ludwig
+Richter]
+
+For I have oft seen put to the test the truth of the proverb:
+Till thou a bushel of salt with a new acquaintance hast eaten,
+Be not too ready to trust him; for time alone renders thee certain
+How ye shall fare with each other, and how well your friendship shall
+                                                           prosper.
+Let us then rather at first make inquiries among the good people
+By whom the maiden is known, and who can inform us about her."
+
+"Much I approve of thy caution," the preacher replied as he followed.
+"Not for ourselves is the suit, and 'tis delicate wooing for others."
+
+Toward the good magistrate, then, the men directed their footsteps,
+Who was again ascending the street in discharge of his duties.
+
+Him the judicious pastor at once addressed and with caution.
+"Look! we a maiden have here descried in the neighboring garden,
+Under an apple-tree sitting, and making up garments for children
+Out of second-hand stuff that somebody doubtless has given;
+And we were pleased with her aspect: she seems like a girl to be trusted.
+Tell us whatever thou knowest: we ask it with honest intentions."
+
+Soon as the magistrate nearer had come, and looked into the garden,
+"Her thou knowest already," he said; "for when I was telling
+Of the heroic deed performed by the hand of that maiden,
+When she snatched the man's sword, and delivered herself and her charges,
+This was the one! she is vigorous born, as thou seest by her stature;
+Yet she is good as strong, for her aged kinsman she tended
+Until the day of his death, which was finally hastened by sorrow
+Over his city's distress, and his own endangered possessions.
+Also, with quiet submission, she bore the death of her lover,
+Who a high-spirited youth, in the earliest flush of excitement,
+Kindled by lofty resolve to fight for a glorious freedom,
+Hurried to Paris, where early a terrible death he encountered.
+For as at home, so there, his foes were deceit and oppression."
+
+Thus the magistrate spoke. The others saluted and thanked him,
+And from his purse a gold-piece the pastor drew forth;--for the silver
+He had some hours before already in charity given,
+When he in mournful groups had seen the poor fugitives passing;--
+And to the magistrate handed it, saying: "Apportion the money
+'Mongst thy destitute people, and God vouchsafe it an increase."
+But the stranger declined it, and, answering, said: "We have rescued
+Many a dollar among us, with clothing and other possessions,
+And shall return, as I hope, ere yet our stock is exhausted."
+
+Then the pastor replied, and pressed the money upon him:
+"None should be backward in giving in days like the present, and no one
+Ought to refuse to accept those gifts which in kindness are offered.
+None can tell how long he may hold what in peace he possesses,
+None how much longer yet he shall roam through the land of the stranger,
+And of his farm be deprived, and deprived of the garden that feeds him."
+
+"Ay, to be sure!" in his bustling way interrupted the doctor:
+"If I had only some money about me, ye surely should have it,
+Little and big; for certainly many among you must need it.
+Yet I'll not go without giving thee something to show what my will is,
+Even though sadly behind my good-will must lag the performance."
+Thus, as he spoke, by its straps his embroidered pocket of leather,
+Where his tobacco was kept, he drew forth,-enough was now in it
+Several pipes to fill,--and daintily opened, and portioned.
+"Small is the gift," he added. The justice, however, made answer:
+"Good tobacco can ne'er to the traveller fail to be welcome."
+Then did the village doctor begin to praise his canaster.
+
+But the clergyman drew him away, and they quitted the justice.
+"Let us make haste," said the thoughtful man: "the youth's waiting
+                                                     in torture;
+Come! let him hear, as soon as he may, the jubilant tidings."
+
+So they hastened their steps, and came to where under the lindens
+Hermann against the carriage was leaning. The horses were stamping
+Wildly the turf; he held them in check, and, buried in musing,
+Stood, into vacancy gazing before him; nor saw the two envoys,
+Till, as they came, they called out and made to him signals of triumph.
+E'en as far off as they then were, the doctor began to address him;
+But they were presently nearer come and then the good pastor
+Grasped his hand and exclaimed, interrupting the word of his comrade:
+"Hail to thee, O young man! thy true eye and heart have well chosen;
+Joy be to thee and the wife of thy youth; for of thee she is worthy.
+Come then and turn us the wagon, and drive straightway to the village,
+There the good maid to woo, and soon bring her home to thy dwelling."
+
+Still, however, the young man stood, without sign of rejoicing,
+Hearing his messenger's words, though heavenly they were and consoling.
+Deeply he sighed as he said: "With hurrying wheels we came hither,
+And shall be forced, perchance, to go mortified homeward and slowly.
+For disquiet has fallen upon me since here I've been waiting,
+Doubt and suspicion, and all that can torture the heart of a lover.
+Think ye we have but to come, and that then the maiden will follow
+Merely because we are rich, while she is poor and an exile?
+Poverty, too, makes proud, when it comes unmerited! Active
+Seems she to be, and contented, and so of the world is she mistress.
+Think ye a maiden like her, with the manners and beauty that she has,
+Can into woman have grown, and no worthy man's love have attracted?
+Think ye that love until now can have been shut out from her bosom?
+Drive not thither too rashly: we might to our mortification
+Have to turn softly homewards our horses' heads. For my fear is
+That to some youth already this heart has been given; already
+This brave hand has been clasped, has pledged faith to some
+                                          fortunate lover.
+Then with my offer, alas! I should stand in confusion before her."
+
+Straightway the pastor had opened his lips to speak consolation,
+When his companion broke in, and said in his voluble fashion:
+"Years ago, forsooth, unknown had been such a dilemma.
+All such affairs were then conducted in regular fashion.
+Soon as a bride for their son had been by the parents selected,
+First some family friend they into their councils would summon,
+Whom they afterward sent as a suitor to visit the parents
+Of the elected bride. Arrayed in his finest apparel,
+Soon after dinner on Sunday he sought the respectable burgher,
+When some friendly words were exchanged upon general subjects,
+He knowing how to direct the discourse as suited his purpose.
+After much circumlocution he finally mentioned the daughter,
+Praising her highly, and praising the man and the house that had sent him.
+Persons of tact perceived his intent, and the politic envoy
+Readily saw how their minds were disposed, and explained himself further.
+Then were the offer declined, e'en the 'no' brought not mortification;
+But did it meet with success, the suitor was ever thereafter
+Made the chief guest in the house on every festive occasion.
+For, through the rest of their lives, the couple ne'er failed to remember
+That 'twas by his experienced hand the first knot had been gathered.
+All that, however, is changed, and, with many another good custom,
+Quite fallen out of the fashion; for every man woos for himself now.
+Therefore let every man hear to his face pronounced the refusal,
+If a refusal there be, and stand shamed in the sight of the maiden!"
+
+"Let that be as it may!" made answer the youth, who had scarcely
+Unto the words paid heed; but in silence had made his decision.
+"I will go thither myself, will myself hear my destiny spoken
+Out of the lips of a maiden in whom I a confidence cherish
+Greater than heart of man has e'er before cherished in woman.
+Say what she will, 'twill be good and wise; of that I am certain.
+Should I behold her never again, yet this once will I see her;
+Yet this once the clear gaze of those dark eyes will encounter.
+If I must press her ne'er to my heart, yet that neck and that bosom
+Will I behold once more, that my arm so longs to encircle;
+Once more that mouth will see, whose kiss and whose 'yes' would for ever
+Render me happy, from which a 'no' will for ever destroy me.
+But ye must leave me alone. Do not wait for me here; but return ye
+Back to my father and mother again, and give them the knowledge
+That their son has not been deceived, that the maiden is worthy.
+So then leave me alone! I shall follow the footpath that crosses
+Over the hill by the pear-tree, and thence descends through our vineyard,
+Taking a shorter way home. And oh, may I bring to our dwelling,
+Joyful and quick my beloved! but perhaps I alone may come creeping
+Over that path to the house, and ne'er again tread it with gladness."
+
+Thus he spoke, and gave up the reins to the hand of the pastor,
+Who understandingly grasped them, the foaming horses controlling,
+Speedily mounted the carriage, and sat in the seat of the driver.
+
+But thou didst hesitate, provident neighbor, and say in remonstrance:
+"Heart and soul and spirit, my friend, I willingly trust thee;
+But as for life and limb, they are not in the safest of keeping,
+When the temporal reins are usurped by the hand of the clergy."
+
+But thou didst laugh at his words, intelligent pastor, and answer:
+"Sit thee down, and contentedly trust me both body and spirit;
+For, in holding the reins, my hand grew long ago skilful,
+Long has my eye been trained in making the nicest of turnings;
+For we were practised well in driving the carriage in Strasburg,
+When I the youthful baron accompanied thither; then daily
+Rolled the carriage, guided by me, through the echoing gateway,
+Out over dusty roads till we reached the meadows and lindens,
+Steering through groups of the town's-folk beguiling the day there
+                                                   with walking."
+
+Thereupon, half-reassured, the neighbor ascended the wagon,
+Sat like one who for a prudent leap is holding him ready,
+And the stallions sped rapidly homeward, desiring their stable.
+Clouds of dust whirled up from under their powerful hoof-beats.
+Long the youth stood there yet, and saw the dust in its rising,
+Saw the dust as it settled again: he stood there unheeding.
+
+
+ERATO
+
+DOROTHEA
+
+Like as the traveller, who, when the sun is approaching its setting,
+Fixes his eyes on it once again ere quickly it vanish,
+Then on the sides of the rocks, and on all the darkening bushes,
+Sees its hovering image; whatever direction he look in
+That hastes before, and flickers and gleams in radiant colors,--
+So before Hermann's eyes moved the beautiful shape of the maiden
+Softly, and seeming to follow the path that led into the corn-field.
+But he aroused from his wildering dream and turned himself slowly
+Toward where the village lay and was wildered again; for again came
+Moving to meet him the lofty form of the glorious maiden.
+Fixedly gazed he upon her; herself it was and no phantom.
+Bearing in either hand a larger jar and a smaller,
+Each by the handle, with busy step she came on to the fountain.
+Joyfully then he hastened to meet her; the sight of her gave him
+Courage and strength; and thus the astonished girl he accosted:
+"Do I then find thee, brave-hearted maiden, so soon again busy,
+Rendering aid unto others, and happy in bringing them comfort?
+Say why thou comest alone to this well which lies at such a distance,
+When all the rest are content with the water they find in the village?
+This has peculiar virtues, 'tis true; and the taste is delicious.
+Thou to that mother wouldst bring it, I trow, whom thy faithfulness
+                                                        rescued."
+
+Straightway with cordial greeting the kindly maiden made answer:
+"Here has my walk to the spring already been amply rewarded,
+Since I have found the good friend who bestowed so abundantly on us;
+For a pleasure not less than the gifts is the sight of the giver.
+Come, I pray thee, and see for thyself who has tasted thy bounty;
+Come, and the quiet thanks receive of all it has solaced.
+But that thou straightway the reason may'st know for which I am hither
+Come to draw, where pure and unfailing the water is flowing,
+This I must tell thee,--that all the water we have in the village
+Has by improvident people been troubled with horses and oxen
+Wading direct through the source which brings the inhabitants water.
+And furthermore they have also made foul with their washings and rinsings
+All the troughs of the village, and all the fountains have sullied;
+For but one thought is in all, and that how to satisfy quickest
+Self and the need of the moment, regardless of what may come after."
+
+[Illustration: HERMANN AND DOROTHEA MEET AT THE FOUNTAIN Ludwig
+Richter]
+
+Thus she spoke, and the broad stone steps meanwhile had descended
+With her companion beside her, and on the low wall of the fountain
+Both sat them down. She bent herself over to draw, and he also
+Took in his hand the jar that remained, and bent himself over;
+And in the blue of the heavens, they, seeing their image reflected,
+Friendly greetings and nods exchanged in the quivering mirror.
+
+"Give me to drink," the youth thereupon in his gladness petitioned,
+And she handed the pitcher. Familiarly sat they and rested,
+Both leaning over their jars, till she presently asked her companion:
+"Tell me, why I find thee here, and without thy horses and wagon,
+Far from the place where I met thee at first? How camest thou hither?"
+
+Thoughtful he bent his eyes on the ground, then quietly raised them
+Up to her face, and, meeting with frankness the gaze of the maiden,
+Felt himself solaced and stilled. But then impossible was it,
+That he of love should speak; her eye told not of affection,
+Only of clear understanding, requiring intelligent answer.
+And he composed himself quickly, and cordially said to the maiden:
+"Hearken to me, my child, and let me reply to thy question.
+'Twas for thy sake that hither I came; why seek to conceal it?
+Know I live happy at home with both my affectionate parents,
+Faithfully giving my aid their house and estates in directing,
+Being an only son, and because our affairs are extensive.
+Mine is the charge of the farm; my father bears rule in the household;
+While the presiding spirit of all is the diligent mother.
+But thine experience doubtless has taught thee how grievously servants,
+Now through deceit, and now through their carelessness, harass the
+                                                        mistress,
+Forcing her ever to change and replace one fault with another.
+Long for that reason my mother has wished for a maid in the household,
+Who not with hand alone, but with heart, too, will lend her assistance,
+Taking the daughter's place, whom alas! she was early deprived of.
+Now when today by the wagon I saw thee, so ready and cheerful,
+Witnessed the strength of thine arms, and thy limbs of such healthful
+                                                         proportion,
+When thy intelligent speech I heard, I was smitten with wonder.
+Hastening homeward, I there to my parents and neighbors the stranger
+Praised as she well deserved. But I now am come hither to tell thee
+What is their wish as mine.--Forgive me my stammering language."
+
+"Hesitate not," she, answering, said, "to tell me what follows.
+Thou dost not give me offence; I have listened with gratitude to thee:
+Speak it out honestly therefore; the sound of it will not alarm me.
+Thou wouldst engage me as servant to wait on thy father and mother,
+And to look after the well-ordered house of which ye are the owners;
+And thou thinkest in me to find them a capable servant,
+One who is skilled in her work, and not of a rude disposition.
+Short thy proposal has been, and short shall be also my answer.
+Yes, I will go with thee home, and the call of fate I will follow.
+Here my duty is done: I have brought the newly made mother
+Back to her kindred again, who are all in her safety rejoicing.
+Most of our people already are gathered; the others will follow.
+All think a few days more will certainly see them returning
+Unto their homes; for such is the exile's constant delusion.
+But by no easy hope do I suffer myself to be cheated
+During these sorrowful days which promise yet more days of sorrow.
+All the bands of the world have been loosed, and what shall unite them,
+Saving alone the need, the need supreme, that is on us?
+If in a good man's house I can earn my living by service,
+Under the eye of an excellent mistress, I gladly will do it;
+Since of doubtful repute, must be always a wandering maiden.
+Yes, I will go with thee, soon as I first shall have carried the pitchers
+Back to my friends, and prayed the good people to give me their blessing
+Come, thou must see them thyself, and from their hands must receive me."
+
+Joyfully hearkened the youth to the willing maiden's decision,
+Doubtful whether he ought not at once to make honest confession.
+
+Yet it appeared to him best to leave her awhile in her error,
+Nor for her love to sue, before leading her home to his dwelling.
+Ah! and the golden ring he perceived on the hand of the maiden,
+Wherefore he let her speak on, and gave diligent ear to her language.
+
+"Come," she presently said, "Let us back to the village; for maidens
+Always are sure to be blamed if they tarry too long at the fountain.
+Yet how delightful it is to chat by the murmuring water!"
+
+Then from their seats they rose, and both of them turned to the fountain
+One more look behind, and a tender longing possessed them.
+Both of the water-jars then in silence she took by the handle,
+Carried them up the steps, while behind her followed her lover.
+One of the pitchers he begged her to give him to lighten the burden.
+"Nay, let it be!" she said: "I carry them better so balanced.
+Nor shall the master, who is to command, be doing me service.
+Look not so gravely upon me, as thinking my fortune a hard one.
+Early a woman should learn to serve, for that is her calling;
+Since through service alone she finally comes to the headship,
+Comes to the due command that is hers of right in the household.
+Early the sister must wait on her brother, and wait on her parents;
+Life must be always with her a perpetual coming and going,
+Or be a fetching and carrying, making and doing for others.
+Happy for her be she wonted to think no way is too grievous,
+And if the hours of the night be to her as the hours of the daytime;
+If she find never a needle too fine, nor a labor too trifling;
+Wholly forgetful of self, and caring to live but in others!
+For she will surely, as mother, have need of every virtue,
+When, in the time of her illness, the cries of her infant arouse her
+Calling for food from her weakness, and cares are to suffering added.
+Twenty men bound into one were not able to bear such a burden;
+Nor is it meant that they should, yet should they with gratitude view it."
+
+Thus she spoke, and was come, meanwhile, with her silent companion,
+Far as the floor of the barn, at the furthermost end of the garden,
+Where was the sick woman lying, whom, glad, she had left with her
+                                                      daughters,
+Those late rescued maidens: fair pictures of innocence were they.
+Both of them entered the barn; and, e'en as they did so, the justice,
+Leading a child in each hand, came in from the other direction.
+These had been lost, hitherto, from the sight of their sorrowing mother;
+But in the midst of the crowd the old man now had descried them.
+Joyfully sprang they forward to meet their dear mother's embraces,
+And to salute with delight their brother, their unknown companion.
+Next upon Dorothea they sprang with affectionate greeting,
+Asking for bread and fruit, but more than all else for some water.
+So then she handed the water about; and not only the children
+Drank, but the sick woman, too, and her daughters, and with them
+                                                   the justice.
+All were refreshed, and highly commended the glorious water;
+Acid it was to the taste, and reviving, and wholesome to drink of.
+
+Then with a serious face the maiden replied to them, saying:
+"Friends, for the last time now to your mouth have I lifted my pitcher;
+And for the last time by me have your lips been moistened with water.
+But henceforth in the heat of the day when the draught shall refresh you,
+When in the shade ye enjoy your rest beside a clear fountain,
+Think of me then sometimes and of all my affectionate service,
+Prompted more by my love than the duty I owed you as kindred.
+I shall acknowledge as long as I live the kindness ye've shown me.
+'Tis with regret that I leave you; but every one now is a burden,
+More than a help to his neighbor, and all must be finally scattered
+Far through a foreign land, if return to our homes be denied us.
+See, here stands the youth to whom we owe thanks for the presents.
+He gave the cloak for the baby, and all these welcome provisions.
+Now he is come, and has asked me if I will make one in his dwelling,
+That I may serve therein his wealthy and excellent parents.
+And I refuse not the offer; for maidens must always be serving;
+Burdensome were it for them to rest and be served in the household.
+Therefore I follow him gladly. A youth of intelligence seems he,
+And so will also the parents be, as becometh the wealthy.
+So then farewell, dear friend; and may'st thou rejoice in thy nursling,
+Living, and into thy face already so healthfully looking!
+When thou shalt press him against thy breast in these gay-colored
+                                                      wrappings,
+Oh, then remember the kindly youth who bestowed them upon us,
+And who me also henceforth, thy sister, will shelter and nourish.
+Thou, too, excellent man!" she said as she turned to the justice;
+"Take my thanks that in many a need I have found thee a father."
+
+Then she knelt down on the floor by the side of the newly made mother,
+Kissing the weeping woman, and taking her low-whispered blessing.
+
+Thou, meanwhile, worshipful justice, wast speaking to Hermann and saying:
+"Justly mayst thou, my friend, be counted among the good masters,
+Careful to manage their household affairs with capable servants.
+For I have often observed how in sheep, as in horses and oxen,
+Men conclude never a bargain without making closest inspection,
+While with a servant who all things preserves, if honest and able,
+And who will every thing lose and destroy, if he set to work falsely,
+Him will a chance or an accident make us admit to our dwelling,
+And we are left, when too late, to repent an o'er hasty decision.
+Thou understandest the matter it seems; because thou hast chosen,
+Thee and thy parents to serve in the house, a maid who is honest.
+Hold her with care; for as long as thy household is under her keeping,
+Thou shalt not want for a sister, nor yet for a daughter thy parents."
+
+Many were come, meanwhile, near relatives all of the mother,
+Bringing her various gifts, and more suitable quarters announcing.
+All of them, hearing the maiden's decision, gave Hermann their blessing,
+Coupled with glances of meaning, while each made his special reflections.
+Hastily one and another would say in the ear of his neighbor:
+"If in the master a lover she find, right well were she cared for."
+Hermann took her at last by the hand, and said as he did so:
+"Let us be going; the day is declining, and distant the city."
+Eager and voluble then the women embraced Dorothea.
+Hermann drew her away; but other adieus must be spoken:
+Lastly the children with cries fell upon her and terrible weeping,
+Clung to her garments, and would not their dear second mother should
+                                                        leave them.
+But in a tone of command the women said, one and another:
+"Hush now, children, she's going to the town, and will presently bring you
+Plenty of nice sweet cake that was by your brother bespoken
+When by the stork just now he was brought past the shop of the baker.
+Soon you will see her come back with sugar-plums splendidly gilded."
+Then did the little ones loose their hold, and Hermann, though hardly,
+Tore her from further embraces away, and far-waving kerchiefs.
+
+
+MELPOMENE
+
+HERMAN AND DOROTHEA
+
+Toward the setting sun the two thus went on their journey:
+Close he had wrapped himself round with clouds portending a tempest.
+Out from the veil, now here and now there, with fiery flashes,
+Gleaming over the field shot forth the ominous lightning.
+"May not these threatening heavens," said Hermann, "be presently sending
+Hailstones upon us and violent rains; for fair is the harvest."
+And in the waving luxuriant grain they delighted together:
+Almost as high it reached as the lofty shapes that moved through it.
+
+Thereupon spoke the maiden, and said to her guide and companion:
+"Friend, unto whom I soon am to owe so kindly a fortune,
+Shelter and home, while many an exile's exposed to the tempest,
+Tell me concerning thy parents, I pray thee, and teach me to know them,
+Them whom with all my heart I desire to serve in the future.
+Who understands his master, more easily gives satisfaction,
+Having regard to the things which to him seem chief in importance,
+And on the doing of which his firm-set mind is determined.
+Tell me therefore, I pray, how to win thy father and mother."
+
+And to her question made answer the good and intelligent Hermann:
+"Ah, what wisdom thou showest, thou good, thou excellent maiden,
+Asking thus first of all concerning the tastes of my parents!
+Know that in vain hitherto I have labored in serving my father,
+Taking upon me as were it my own, the charge of the household;
+Early and late at work in the fields, and o'erseeing the vine-yard.
+But my mother I fully content, who can value my service;
+And thou wilt also appear in her eyes the worthiest of maidens,
+If for the house thou carest, as were it thine own thou wast keeping.
+Otherwise is it with father, who cares for the outward appearance.
+Do not regard me, good maiden, as one who is cold and unfeeling,
+That unto thee a stranger I straightway discover my father.
+Nay, I assure thee that never before have words such as these are
+Freely dropped from my tongue, which is not accustomed to prattle;
+But from out of my bosom thou lurest its every secret.
+Some of the graces of life my good father covets about him,
+Outward signs of affection he wishes, as well as of honor;
+And an inferior servant might possibly give satisfaction,
+Who could turn these to account, while he might be displeased with a
+                                                           better."
+
+Thereupon said she with joy, the while him hastening footsteps
+Over the darkening pathway with easy motion she quickened:
+"Truly I hope to them both I shall equally give satisfaction:
+For in thy mother's nature I find such an one as mine own is,
+And to the outward graces I've been from my childhood accustomed.
+Greatly was courtesy valued among our neighbors the Frenchmen,
+During their earlier days; it was common to noble and burgher,
+As to the peasant, and every one made it the rule of his household.
+So, on the side of us Germans, the children were likewise accustomed
+Daily to bring to their parents, with kissing of hands and with curtseys,
+Morning good-wishes, and all through the day to be prettily mannered.
+Every thing thus that I learned, and to which I've been used from my
+                                                         childhood,
+All that my heart shall suggest, shall be brought into play for thy
+                                                          father.
+But who shall tell me of thee, and how thyself shouldst be treated,
+Thou the only son of the house, and henceforth my master?"
+
+Thus she said, and e'en as she spoke they stood under the pear-tree.
+Down from the heavens the moon at her full was shedding her splendor.
+Night had come on, and wholly obscured was the last gleam of sunlight,
+So that contrasting masses lay side by side with each other,
+Clear and bright as the day, and black with the shadows of midnight;
+Gratefully fell upon Hermann's ear the kindly asked question
+Under the shade of the glorious tree, the spot he so treasured,
+Which but this morning had witnessed the tears he had shed for the exile.
+And while they sat themselves down to rest them here for a little,
+Thus spoke the amorous youth, as he grasped the hand of the maiden:
+"Suffer thy heart to make answer, and follow it freely in all things."
+Yet naught further he ventured to say although so propitious
+Seemed the hour; he feared he should only haste on a refusal.
+Ah, and he felt besides the ring on her finger, sad token!
+Therefore they sat there, silent and still, beside one another.
+
+First was the maiden to speak: "How sweet is this glorious moonlight!"
+Said she at length: "It is as the light of the day in its brightness.
+
+[Illustration: HERMAN AND DOROTHEA UNDER THE PEAR TREE Ludwig Richter]
+
+There in the city I plainly can see the houses and court-yards,
+And in the gable--methinks I can number its panes--is a window."
+
+"What thou seest," the modest youth thereupon made her answer,--
+"What thou seest is our dwelling, to which I am leading thee downward,
+And that window yonder belongs to my room in the attic,
+Which will be thine perhaps, for various changes are making.
+All these fields, too, are ours; they are ripe for the harvest to-morrow.
+Here in the shade we will rest, and partake of our noon-tide refreshment.
+But it is time we began our descent through the vineyard and garden;
+For dost thou mark how yon threatening storm-cloud comes nearer and
+                                                           nearer,
+Charged with lightning, and ready our fair full moon to extinguish?"
+
+So they arose from their seats, and over the corn fields descended,
+Through the luxuriant grain, enjoying the brightness of evening,
+Until they came to the vineyard, and so entered into its shadow.
+Then he guided her down o'er the numerous blocks that were lying,
+Rough and unhewn on the pathway, and served as the steps of the alley.
+Slowly the maiden descended, and leaning her hands on his shoulder,
+While with uncertain beams, the moon through the leaves overlooked them,
+Ere she was veiled by the cloud, and so left the couple in darkness.
+Carefully Hermann's strength supported the maid that hung o'er him;
+But, not knowing the path and the rough-hewn steps that led down it,
+Missed she her footing, her ankle turned, and she surely had fallen,
+Had not the dexterous youth his arm outstretched in an instant,
+And his beloved upheld. She gently sank on his shoulder;
+Breast was pressed against breast, and cheek against cheek. Thus he
+                                                      stood there
+Fixed as a marble statue, the force of will keeping him steadfast,
+Drew her not to him more closely, but braced himself under her pressure.
+Thus he the glorious burden felt, the warmth of her bosom,
+And the perfume of her breath, that over his lips was exhaling;
+Bore with the heart of a man the majestic form of the woman.
+
+But she with playfulness said, concealing the pain that she suffered:
+"That is a sign of misfortune, so timorous persons would tell us,
+When on approaching a house we stumble not far from the threshold;
+And for myself, I confess, I could wish for a happier omen.
+Let us here linger awhile that thy parents may not have to blame thee,
+Seeing a limping maid, and thou seem an incompetent landlord."
+
+
+URANIA
+
+PROSPECT
+
+Muses, O ye who the course of true love so willingly favor,
+Ye who thus far on his way the excellent youth have conducted,
+Even before the betrothal have pressed to his bosom the maiden;
+Further your aid vouchsafe this charming pair in uniting,
+Straightway dispersing the clouds which over their happiness lower!
+Yet first of all declare what is passing meanwhile at the Lion.
+  Now for the third time again the mother impatient had  entered
+Where were assembled the men, whom anxious but now she had quitted;
+Spoke of the gathering storm, and the moonlight's rapid obscuring;
+Then of her son's late tarrying abroad and the dangers of nightfall;
+Sharply upbraided her friends that without having speech of the maiden,
+And without urging his suit, they had parted from Hermann so early.
+
+"Make it not worse than it is," the father replied with displeasure.
+"For, as thou seest, we tarry ourselves and are waiting the issue."
+
+Calmly, however, from where he was sitting the neighbor made answer:
+"Never in hours of disquiet like this do I fail to be grateful
+Unto my late, blessed father, who every root of impatience
+Tore from my heart when a child, and left no fibre remaining;
+So that I learned on the instant to wait as do none of your sages."
+"Tell us," the pastor returned, "what legerdemain he made use of."
+"That will I gladly relate, for all may draw from it a lesson;"
+So made the neighbor reply. "When a boy I once stood of a Sunday
+Full of impatience, and looking with eagerness out for the carriage
+Which was to carry us forth to the spring that lies under the lindens.
+Still the coach came not. I ran, like a weasel, now hither, now thither,
+Up stairs and down, and forward and back, 'twixt the door and the window;
+Even my fingers itched to be moving; I scratched on the tables,
+Went about pounding and stamping, and hardly could keep me from weeping.
+All was observed by the calm-tempered man; but at last when my folly
+Came to be carried too far, by the arm he quietly took me,
+Led me away to the window, and spoke in this serious language:
+'Seest thou yonder the carpenter's shop that is closed for the Sunday?
+He will re-open to-morrow, when plane and saw will be started,
+And will keep on through the hours of labor from morning till evening.
+But consider you this,--a day will be presently coming
+When that man shall himself be astir and all of his workmen,
+Making a coffin for thee to be quickly and skilfully finished.
+Then that house of boards they will busily bring over hither,
+Which must at last receive alike the impatient and patient,
+And which is destined soon with close-pressing roof to be covered.'
+Straightway I saw the whole thing in my mind as if it were doing;
+Saw the boards fitting together, and saw the black color preparing,
+Sat me down patiently then, and in quiet awaited the carriage.
+Now when others I see, in seasons of anxious expectance,
+Running distracted about, I cannot but think of the coffin."
+
+Smiling, the pastor replied: "The affecting picture of death stands
+Not as a dread to the wise, and not as an end to the pious.
+Those it presses again into life, and teaches to use it;
+These by affliction it strengthens in hope to future salvation.
+Death becomes life unto both. Thy father was greatly mistaken
+When to a sensitive boy he death in death thus depicted.
+Let us the value of nobly ripe age, point out to the young man,
+And to the aged the youth, that in the eternal progression
+Both may rejoice, and life may in life thus find its completion."
+
+But the door was now opened, and showed the majestical couple.
+Filled with amaze were the friends, and amazed the affectionate parents,
+Seeing the form of the maid so well matched with that of her lover.
+Yea, the door seemed too low to allow the tall figures to enter,
+As they together now appeared coming over the threshold.
+
+Hermann, with hurried words, presented her thus to his parents:
+"Here is a maiden," he said; "such a one as ye wish in the household.
+Kindly receive her, dear father: she merits it well; and thou, mother,
+Question her straightway on all that belongs to a house-keeper's duty,
+That ye may see how well she deserves to ye both to be nearer."
+
+  Quickly he then drew aside the excellent clergyman, saying:
+"Help me, O worthy sir, and speedily out of this trouble;
+Loosen, I pray thee, this knot, at whose untying I tremble.
+Know that 'tis not as a lover that I have brought hither the maiden;
+But she believes that as servant she comes to the house, and I tremble
+Lest in displeasure she fly as soon as there's mention of marriage.
+But be it straightway decided; for she no longer in error
+Thus shall be left, and I this suspense no longer can suffer.
+Hasten and show us in this a proof of the wisdom we honor."
+
+  Toward the company then the clergyman instantly turned him;
+But already, alas! had the soul of the maiden been troubled,
+Hearing the father's speech; for he, in his sociable fashion,
+Had in these playful words, with the kindest intention addressed her:
+"Ay, this is well, my child! with delight I perceive that my Hermann
+Has the good taste of his father, who often showed his in his young days,
+Leading out always the fairest to dance, and bringing the fairest
+Finally home as his wife; our dear little mother here that was.
+For by the bride that a man shall elect we can judge what himself is,
+Tell what the spirit is in him, and whether he feel his own value.
+Nor didst thou need for thyself, I'll engage, much time for decision;
+For, in good sooth, methinks, he's no difficult person to follow."
+
+Hermann had heard but in part; his limbs were inwardly trembling,
+And of a sudden a stillness had fallen on all of the circle.
+
+But by these words of derision, for such she could not but deem them,
+Wounded, and stung to the depths of her soul, the excellent maiden,
+Stood, while the fugitive blood o'er her cheeks and e'en to her bosom
+Poured its flush. But she governed herself, and her courage collecting,
+Answered the old man thus, her pain not wholly concealing:
+"Truly for such a reception thy son had in no wise prepared me,
+When he the ways of his father described, the excellent burgher.
+Thou art a man of culture, I know, before whom I am standing;
+Dealest with every one wisely, according as suits his position;
+But thou hast scanty compassion, it seems, on one such as I am,
+Who, a poor girl, am now crossing thy threshold with purpose to serve thee;
+Else, with such bitter derision, thou wouldst not have made me remember
+How far removed my fortune from that of thyself and thy son is.
+True, I come poor to thy house, and bring with me naught but my bundle
+Here where is every abundance to gladden the prosperous inmates.
+Yet I know well myself; I feel the relations between us.
+Say, is it noble, with so much of mockery straightway to greet me,
+That I am sent from the house while my foot is scarce yet on the
+           threshold?"
+
+Anxiously Hermann turned and signed to his ally the pastor
+That he should rush to the rescue and straightway dispel the delusion.
+Then stepped the wise man hastily forward and looked on the maiden's
+Tearful eyes, her silent pain and repressed indignation,
+And in his heart was impelled not at once to clear up the confusion,
+Rather to put to the test the girl's disquieted spirit.
+Therefore he unto her said in language intended to try her:
+"Surely, thou foreign-born maiden, thou didst not maturely consider,
+When thou too rashly decidedst to enter the service of strangers,
+All that is meant by the placing thyself 'neath the rule of a master;
+For by our hand to a bargain the fate of the year is determined,
+And but a single 'yea' compels to much patient endurance.
+Not the worst part of the service the wearisome steps to be taken,
+Neither the bitter sweat of a labor that presses unceasing;
+Since the industrious freeman must toil as well as the servant.
+But 'tis to bear with the master's caprice when he censures unjustly,
+Or when, at variance with self, he orders now this, now the other;
+Bear with the petulance, too, of the mistress, easily angered,
+And with the rude, overbearing ways of unmannerly children.
+All this is hard to endure, and yet to go on with thy duties
+Quickly, without delay, nor thyself grow sullen and stubborn.
+Yet thou appearest ill fitted for this, since already so deeply
+Stung by the father's jests: whereas there is nothing more common
+Than for a girl to be teased on account of a youth she may fancy."
+
+Thus he spoke. The maiden had felt the full force of his language,
+And she restrained her no more; but with passionate out-burst her feelings
+Made themselves way; a sob broke forth from her now heaving bosom,
+And, while the scalding tears poured down, she straightway made answer
+"Ah, that rational man who thinks to advise us in sorrow,
+Knows not how little of power his cold words have in relieving
+Ever a heart from that woe which a sovereign fate has inflicted.
+Ye are prosperous and glad; how then should a pleasantry wound you?
+Yet but the lightest touch is a source of pain to the sick man.
+Nay, concealment itself, if successful, had profited nothing.
+Better show now what had later increased to a bitterer anguish,
+And to an inward consuming despair might perhaps have reduced me.
+Let me go back! for here in this house I can tarry no longer.
+I will away, and wander in search of my hapless companions,
+Whom I forsook in their need; for myself alone choosing the better.
+This is my firm resolve, and I therefore may make a confession
+Which might for years perhaps have else lain hid in my bosom.
+Deeply indeed was I hurt by the father's words of derision;
+Not that I'm sensitive, proud beyond what is fitting a servant;
+But that my heart in truth had felt itself stirred with affection
+Toward the youth who to-day had appeared to my eyes as a savior.
+When he first left me there on the road, he still remained present,
+Haunting my every thought; I fancied the fortunate maiden
+Whom as a bride, perhaps, his heart had already elected.
+When at the fountain I met him again, the sight of him wakened
+Pleasure as great as if there had met me an angel from heaven;
+And with what gladness I followed, when asked to come as his servant.
+True, that I flattered myself in my heart,--I will not deny it,--
+While we were hitherward coming, I might peradventure deserve him,
+Should I become at last the important stay of the household.
+Now I, alas! for the first time see what risk I was running,
+When I would make my home so near to the secretly loved one;
+Now for the first time feel how far removed a poor maiden
+Is from an opulent youth, no matter how great her deserving.
+All this I now confess, that my heart ye may not misinterpret,
+In that 'twas hurt by a chance to which I owe my awaking.
+Hiding my secret desires, this dread had been ever before me,
+That at some early day he would bring him a bride to his dwelling;
+And ah, how could I then my inward anguish have suffered!
+Happily I have been warned, and happily now has my bosom
+Been of its secret relieved, while yet there is cure for the evil.
+But no more; I have spoken; and now shall nothing detain me
+Longer here in a house where I stay but in shame and confusion,
+Freely confessing my love and that foolish hope that I cherished.
+Not the night which abroad is covered with lowering storm clouds;
+Not the roll of the thunder--I hear its peal--shall deter me;
+Not the pelt of the rain which without is beating in fury;
+Neither the blustering tempest; for all these things have I suffered
+During our sorrowful flight, and while the near foe was pursuing.
+Now I again go forth, as I have so long been accustomed,
+Carried away by the whirl of the times, and from every thing parted.
+Fare ye well! I tarry no longer; all now is over."
+
+Thus she spoke and back to the door she hastily turned her,
+Still bearing under her arm, as she with her had brought it, her bundle.
+But with both of her arms the mother seized hold of the maiden,
+Clasping her round the waist, and exclaiming, amazed and bewildered:
+"Tell me, what means all this? and these idle tears, say, what mean they?
+I will not let thee depart: thou art the betrothed of my Hermann."
+
+But still the father stood, observing the scene with displeasure,
+Looked on the weeping girl, and said in a tone of vexation:
+"This then must be the return that I get for all my indulgence,
+That at the close of the day this most irksome of all things should happen!
+For there is naught I can tolerate less than womanish weeping,
+Violent outcries, which only involve in disorder and passion,
+What with a little of sense had been more smoothly adjusted.
+Settle the thing for yourselves: I'm going to bed; I've no patience
+Longer to be a spectator of these your marvelous doings."
+Quickly he turned as he spoke, and hastened to go to the chamber
+Where he was wonted to rest, and his marriage bed was kept standing,
+But he was held by his son, who said in a tone of entreaty:
+"Father, hasten not from us, and be thou not wroth with the maiden.
+I, only I, am to blame as the cause of all this confusion,
+Which by his dissimulation our friend unexpectedly heightened.
+Speak, O worthy sir; for to thee my cause I intrusted.
+Heap not up sorrow and anger, but rather let all this be ended;
+For I could hold thee never again in such high estimation,
+If thou shouldst show but delight in pain, not superior wisdom."
+
+Thereupon answered and said the excellent clergyman, smiling:
+"Tell me, what other device could have drawn this charming confession
+Out of the good maiden's lips, and thus have revealed her affection?
+Has not thy trouble been straightway transformed into gladness and rapture?
+Therefore speak up for thyself; what need of the tongue of another?"
+
+Thereupon Hermann came forward, and spoke in these words of affection:
+"Do not repent of thy tears, nor repent of these passing distresses;
+For they complete my joy, and--may I not hope it--thine also?
+Not to engage the stranger, the excellent maid, as a servant,
+Unto the fountain I came; but to sue for thy love I came thither.
+Only, alas! my timorous look could thy heart's inclination
+Nowise perceive; I read in thine eyes of nothing but kindness,
+As from the fountain's tranquil mirror thou gavest me greeting.
+Might I but bring thee home, the half of my joy was accomplished.
+But thou completest it unto me now; oh, blest be thou for it!"
+Then with a deep emotion the maiden gazed on the stripling;
+Neither forbade she embrace and kiss, the summit of rapture,
+When to a loving pair they come as the longed for assurance,
+Pledge of a lifetime of bliss, that appears to them now never-ending.
+
+Unto the others, meanwhile, the pastor had made explanation.
+But with feeling and grace the maid now advanced to the father,
+Bent her before him, and kissing the hand he would fain have withholden,
+Said: "Thou wilt surely be just and forgive one so startled as I was,
+First for my tears of distress, and now for the tears of my gladness.
+That emotion forgive me, and oh! forgive me this also.
+For I can scarce comprehend the happiness newly vouchsafed me.
+Yes, let that first vexation of which I, bewildered, was guilty
+Be, too, the last. Whatever the maid of affectionate service
+Faithfully promised, shall be to thee now performed by the daughter."
+
+Straightway then, concealing his tears, the father embraced her,
+Cordially, too, the mother came forward and kissed her with fervor,
+Pressing her hands in her own: the weeping women were silent.
+
+Thereupon quickly he seized, the good and intelligent pastor,
+First the father's hand, and the wedding-ring drew from his finger,--
+Not so easily either: the finger was plump and detained it,--
+Next took the mother's ring also, and with them betrothed he the children,
+Saying: "These golden circlets once more their office performing
+Firmly a tie shall unite, which in all things shall equal the old one,
+Deeply is this young man imbued with love of the maiden,
+And, as the maiden confesses, her heart is gone out to him also.
+
+[Illustration: THE BETROTHAL Ludwig Richter]
+
+Here do I therefore betroth you and bless for the years that are coming,
+With the consent of the parents, and having this friend as a witness."
+
+Then the neighbor saluted at once, and expressed his good wishes;
+But when the clergyman now the golden circlet was drawing
+Over the maiden's hand, he observed with amazement the other,
+Which had already by Hermann been anxiously marked at the fountain.
+And with a kindly raillery thus thereupon he addressed her:
+"So, then thy second betrothal is this? Let us hope the first bridegroom
+May not appear at the altar, and so prohibit the marriage."
+
+But she, answering, said: "Oh, let me to this recollection
+Yet one moment devote; for so much is due the good giver,
+Him who bestowed it at parting, and never came back to his kindred.
+All that should come he foresaw, when in haste the passion for freedom,
+When a desire in the newly changed order of things to be working,
+Urged him onward to Paris, where chains and death he encountered.
+'Fare thee well,' were his words; 'I go, for all is in motion
+Now for a time on the earth, and every thing seems to be parting.
+E'en in the firmest states fundamental laws are dissolving;
+Property falls away from the hand of the ancient possessor;
+Friend is parted from friend; and so parts lover from lover.
+Here I leave thee, and where I shall find thee again, or if ever,
+Who can tell? Perhaps these words are our last ones together.
+Man's but a stranger here on the earth, we are told and with reason;
+And we are each of us now become more of strangers than ever.
+Ours no more is the soil, and our treasures are all of them changing:
+Silver and gold are melting away from their time-honored patterns.
+All is in motion as though the already-shaped world into chaos
+Meant to resolve itself backward into night, and to shape itself over.
+Mine thou wilt keep thine heart, and should we be ever united
+Over the ruins of earth, it will be as newly made creatures,
+Beings transformed and free, no longer dependent on fortune;
+For can aught fetter the man who has lived through days such as these are!
+But if it is not to be, that, these dangers happily over,
+Ever again we be granted the bliss of mutual embraces,
+Oh, then before thy thoughts so keep my hovering image
+That with unshaken mind thou be ready for good or for evil!
+Should new ties allure thee again, and a new habitation,
+Enter with gratitude into the joys that fate shall prepare thee;
+Love those purely who love thee; be grateful to them who show kindness.
+But thine uncertain foot should yet be planted but lightly,
+For there is lurking the twofold pain of a new separation.
+Blessings attend thy life; but value existence no higher
+Than thine other possessions, and all possessions are cheating!'
+Thus spoke the noble youth, and never again I beheld him.
+Meanwhile I lost my all, and a thousand times thought of his warning.
+Here, too, I think of his words, when love is sweetly preparing
+Happiness for me anew, and glorious hopes are reviving.
+Oh, forgive me, excellent friend, that e'en while I hold thee
+Close to my side I tremble! So unto the late-landed sailor
+Seem the most solid foundations of firmest earth to be rocking."
+
+Thus she spoke, and placed the two rings on her finger together.
+But her lover replied with a noble and manly emotion:
+"So much the firmer then, amid these universal convulsions,
+Be, Dorothea, our union! We two will hold fast and continue,
+Firmly maintaining ourselves, and the right to our ample possessions.
+For that man, who, when times are uncertain, is faltering in spirit,
+Only increases the evil, and further and further transmits it;
+While he refashions the world, who keeps himself steadfastly minded.
+Poorly becomes it the German to give to these fearful excitements
+Aught of continuance, or to be this way and that way inclining.
+This is our own! let that be our word, and let us maintain it!
+For to those resolute peoples respect will be ever accorded,
+Who for God and the laws, for parents, women and children,
+Fought and died, as together they stood with their front to the foeman.
+Thou art mine own; and now what is mine, is mine more than ever.
+Not with anxiety will I preserve it, and trembling enjoyment;
+Rather with courage and strength. To-day should the enemy threaten,
+Or in the future, equip me thyself and hand me my weapons.
+Let me but know that under thy care are my house and dear parents,
+Oh! I can then with assurance expose my breast to the foeman.
+And were but every man minded like me, there would be an upspring
+Might against might, and peace should revisit us all with its gladness."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS
+
+BY ARTHUR H. PALMER, A.M., LL.D.
+
+Professor of German Language and Literature, Yale University
+
+To what literary genus does Goethe's _Iphigenia_ belongs? Dramatic in
+form, is it a drama? For A. W. Schlegel "an echo of Greek song," and
+for many German critics the best modern reproduction of Greek tragedy,
+it is for others a thoroughly German work in its substitution of
+profound moral struggles for the older passionate, more external
+conflicts. Schiller said: "It is, however, so astonishingly modern and
+un-Greek, that I cannot understand how it was ever thought to resemble
+a Greek play. It is purely moral; but the sensuous power, the life,
+the agitation, and everything which specifically belongs to a dramatic
+work is wanting." He adds, however, that it is a marvelous production
+which must forever remain the delight and wonderment of mankind. This
+is the view of G. H. Lewes, whose characterization is so apt also in
+other respects: "A drama it is not; it is a marvelous dramatic poem.
+The grand and solemn movement responds to the large and simple ideas
+which it unfolds. It has the calmness of majesty. In the limpid
+clearness of its language the involved mental processes of the
+characters are as transparent as the operations of bees within a
+crystal hive; while a constant strain of high and lofty music makes
+the reader feel as if in a holy temple. And above all witcheries of
+detail there is one capital witchery, belonging to Greek statues more
+than to other works of human cunning--the perfect unity of impression
+produced by the whole, so that nothing in it seems _made_, but all to
+_grow_; nothing is superfluous, but all is in organic dependence;
+nothing is there for detached effect, but the whole is effect. The
+poem fills the mind; beautiful as the separate passages are, admirers
+seldom think of passages, they think of the wondrous whole."
+
+But may we not deepen and spiritualize our conception of the drama and
+say that in _Iphigenia_, Goethe created a new dramatic genus, the
+soul-drama--the first psychological drama of modern literature, the
+result of ethical and artistic development through two milleniums?
+Surely a Greek dramatist of the first rank, come to life again in
+Goethe's age and entering into the heritage of this development, would
+have modernized both subject and form in the same way.
+
+Most intimate is the relation of _Iphigenia_ to Goethe's inner life,
+and this relation best illumines the spiritual import of the drama.
+Like his _Torquato Tasso_, it springs entirely from conditions and
+experiences of the early Weimar years and those just preceding. It was
+conceived and the first prose version written early in 1779; it
+received its final metrical form December, 1786--in Rome indeed, but
+it owed to Italy only a higher artistic finish.
+
+In his autobiography Goethe has revealed to us that his works are
+fragments of a great confession. Moods of his pre-Weimar storm and
+stress vibrate in his _Iphigenia_--feverish unrest, defiance of
+conventionality, Titanic trust in his individual genius,
+self-reproach, and remorse for guilt toward those he
+loved,--Friederike and Lili. Thus feeling his inner conflicts to be
+like the sufferings of Orestes, he wrote in a letter, August, 1775,
+shortly after returning to Frankfurt from his first Swiss journey:
+"Perhaps the invisible scourge of the Eumenides will soon drive me out
+again from my fatherland."
+
+In November, 1775, Goethe went to Weimar, and there he found
+redemption from his unrest and dejection in the friendship of Frau von
+Stein. Her beneficent influence effected his new-birth into calm
+self-control and harmony of spirit. On August 7, 1779, Goethe wrote in
+his diary: "May the idea of purity, extending even to the morsel I
+take into my mouth, become ever more luminous in me!" If Orestes is
+Goethe, Iphigenia is Frau von Stein; and in the personal sense the
+theme of the drama is the restoration of the poet to spiritual purity
+by the influence of noble womanhood.
+
+But there is a larger, universally human sense. Such healing of
+Orestes is typically human; noble womanhood best realizes the ideal of
+the truly human (_Humanitaet_). In a way that transcends understanding,
+one pure, strong human personality may by its influence restore moral
+vigor and bring peace and hope to other souls rent by remorse and sunk
+in despair. This Goethe himself expressed as the central thought of
+this drama in the lines:
+
+Alle menschlichen Gebrechen
+Suehnet reine Menschlichkeit
+
+(For each human fault and frailty
+Pure humanity atones).
+
+The eighteenth century's conception of "humanity," the ideal of the
+truly human, found two-fold classic, artistic expression in Germany at
+the same time; in Lessing's _Nathan the Wise_ and in Goethe's
+_Iphigenia in Tauris_, the former rationalistic, the latter broader,
+more subtle, mystical.
+
+
+IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS (1787)[33]
+
+
+A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS
+
+TRANSLATED BY ANNA SWANWICK
+
+Like _Torquato Tasso, Iphigenia_ was originally written in prose, and
+in that form was acted at the Weimar Court Theatre about 1779. Goethe
+himself took the part of Orestes.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE
+
+
+IPHIGENIA.
+THOAS, _King of the Taurians_.
+ORESTES.
+PYLADES.
+ARKAS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT I
+
+SCENE I. _A Grove before the Temple of Diana_.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Beneath your leafy gloom, ye waving boughs
+Of this old, shady, consecrated grove,
+As in the goddess' silent sanctuary,
+With the same shuddering feeling forth I step,
+As when I trod it first, nor ever here
+Doth my unquiet spirit feel at home.
+Long as a higher will, to which I bow,
+Hath kept me here conceal'd, still, as at first,
+I feel myself a stranger. For the sea
+Doth sever me, alas! from those I love,
+And day by day upon the shore I stand,
+The land of Hellas seeking with my soul;
+But to my sighs, the hollow-sounding waves
+Bring, save their own hoarse murmurs, no reply.
+Alas for him! who friendless and alone,
+Remote from parents and from brethren dwells;
+From him grief snatches every coming joy
+Ere it doth reach his lip. His yearning thoughts
+Throng back for ever to his father's halls,
+Where first to him the radiant sun unclosed
+The gates of heav'n; where closer, day by day,
+Brothers and sisters, leagued in pastime sweet,
+Around each other twin'd love's tender bonds.
+I will not reckon with the gods; yet truly
+Deserving of lament is woman's lot.
+Man rules alike at home and in the field,
+Nor is in foreign climes without resource;
+Him conquest crowneth, him possession gladdens,
+And him an honorable death awaits.
+How circumscrib'd is woman's destiny!
+Obedience to a harsh, imperious lord,
+Her duty, and her comfort; sad her fate,
+Whom hostile fortune drives to lands remote!
+Thus Thoas holds me here, a noble man
+Bound with a heavy though a sacred chain.
+O how it shames me, goddess, to confess
+That with repugnance I perform these rites
+For thee, divine protectress! unto whom
+I would in freedom dedicate my life.
+In thee, Diana, I have always hoped,
+And still I hope in thee, who didst infold
+Within the holy shelter of thine arm
+The outcast daughter of the mighty king.
+Daughter of Jove! hast thou from ruin'd Troy
+Led back in triumph to his native land
+The mighty man, whom thou didst sore afflict,
+His daughter's life in sacrifice demanding,--
+Hast thou for him, the godlike Agamemnon,
+Who to thine altar led his darling child,
+Preserv'd his wife, Electra, and his son,
+His dearest treasures?--then at length restore
+Thy suppliant also to her friends and home,
+And save her, as thou once from death didst save,
+So now, from living here, a second death.
+
+[Illustration: IPHIGENIA Anselm Feuerbach]
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+IPHIGENIA, ARKAS
+
+
+ARKAS
+
+The king hath sent me hither, bade me greet
+With hail, and fair salute, Diana's priestess.
+For new and wondrous conquest, this the day,
+When to her goddess Tauris renders thanks.
+I hasten on before the king and host,
+Himself to herald, and its near approach.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+We are prepar'd to give them worthy greeting;
+Our goddess doth behold with gracious eye
+The welcome sacrifice from Thoas' hand.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Would that I also found the priestess' eye,
+Much honor'd, much revered one, found thine eye,
+O consecrated maid, more calm, more bright,
+To all a happy omen! Still doth grief,
+With gloom mysterious, shroud thy inner mind;
+Vainly, through many a tedious year we wait
+For one confiding utterance from thy breast.
+Long as I've known thee in this holy place,
+That look of thine hath ever made me shudder;
+And, as with iron bands, thy soul remains
+Lock'd in the deep recesses of thy breast.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+As doth become the exile and the orphan.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Dost thou then here seem exil'd and an orphan?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Can foreign scenes our fatherland replace?
+
+ARKAS
+
+Thy fatherland is foreign now to thee.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Hence is it that my bleeding heart ne'er heals.
+In early youth, when first my soul, in love,
+Held father, mother, brethren fondly twin'd,
+A group of tender germs, in union sweet,
+We sprang in beauty from the parent stem,
+And heavenward grew; alas, a foreign curse
+Then seized and sever'd me from those I loved,
+And wrench'd with iron grasp the beauteous bands
+It vanish'd then, the fairest charm of youth,
+The simple gladness of life's early dawn;
+Though sav'd I was a shadow of myself,
+And life's fresh joyance blooms in me no more.
+
+ARKAS
+
+If thou wilt ever call thyself unblest,
+I must accuse thee of ingratitude.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thanks have you ever.
+
+ARKAS
+
+               Not the honest thanks
+Which prompt the heart to offices of love;
+The joyous glance, revealing to the host
+A grateful spirit, with its lot content.
+When thee a deep mysterious destiny
+Brought to this sacred fane, long years ago,
+To greet thee, as a treasure sent from heaven,
+With reverence and affection, Thoas came.
+Benign and friendly was this shore to thee,
+To every stranger else with horror fraught,
+For, till thy coming, none e'er trod our realm
+But fell, according to an ancient rite,
+A bloody victim at Diana's shrine.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Freely to breathe alone is not to live.
+Say, is it life, within this holy fane,
+Like a poor ghost around its sepulchre
+To linger out my days? Or call you that
+A life of conscious happiness and joy,
+When every hour, dream'd listlessly away,
+Still leadeth onward to those gloomy days,
+Which the sad troop of the departed spend
+In self-forgetfulness on Lethe's shore?
+A useless life is but an early death;
+This woman's destiny hath still been mine.
+
+ARKAS
+
+I can forgive, though I must needs deplore,
+The noble pride which underrates itself;
+It robs thee of the happiness of life.
+But hast thou, since thy coming here, done naught?
+Who hath the monarch's gloomy temper cheered?
+Who hath with gentle eloquence annull'd,
+From year to year, the usage of our sires,
+By which, a victim at Diana's shrine,
+Each stranger perish'd, thus from certain death
+Sending so oft the rescued captive home?
+Hath not Diana, harboring no revenge
+For this suspension of her bloody rites,
+In richest measure heard thy gentle prayer?
+On joyous pinions o'er the advancing host,
+Doth not triumphant conquest proudly soar?
+And feels not every one a happier lot,
+Since Thoas, who so long hath guided us
+With wisdom and with valor, sway'd by thee.
+The joy of mild benignity approves,
+Which leads him to relax the rigid claims
+Of mute submission? Call thyself useless! Thou,
+When from thy being o'er a thousand hearts,
+A healing balsam flows? when to a race,
+To whom a god consign'd thee, thou dost prove
+A fountain of perpetual happiness,
+And from this dire inhospitable coast,
+Dost to the stranger grant a safe return?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The little done doth vanish to the mind,
+Which forward sees how much remains to do.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Him dost thou praise, who underrates his deeds?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Who weigheth his own deeds is justly blam'd.
+
+ARKAS
+
+He too, real worth too proudly who condemns,
+As who, too vainly, spurious worth o'er-rateth.
+Trust me, and heed the counsel of a man
+With honest zeal devoted to thy service:
+When Thoas comes to-day to speak with thee,
+Lend to his purposed words a gracious ear.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy well-intention'd counsel troubles me:
+His offer I have ever sought to shun.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Thy duty and thy interest calmly weigh.
+Sithence King Thoas lost his son and heir,
+Among his followers he trusts but few,
+And trusts those few no more as formerly.
+With jealous eye he views each noble's son
+As the successor of his realm, he dreads
+A solitary, helpless age--perchance
+Sudden rebellion and untimely death.
+A Scythian studies not the rules of speech,
+And least of all the king. He who is used
+To act and to command, knows not the art,
+From far, with subtle tact, to guide discourse
+Through many windings to its destin'd goal.
+Thwart not his purpose by a cold refusal,
+By an intended misconception. Meet,
+With gracious mien, half-way the royal wish.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Shall I then speed the doom that threatens me?
+
+ARKAS
+
+His gracious offer canst thou call a threat?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+'Tis the most terrible of all to me.
+
+ARKAS
+
+For his affection grant him confidence.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+If he will first redeem my soul from fear.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Why dost thou hide from him thy origin?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+A priestess secrecy doth well become.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Naught to a monarch should a secret be;
+And, though he doth not seek to fathom thine,
+His noble nature feels, ay, deeply feels,
+That thou with care dost hide thyself from him.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Ill-will and anger harbors he against me?
+
+ARKAS
+
+Almost it seems so. True, he speaks not of thee,
+But casual words have taught me that the wish
+Thee to possess hath firmly seiz'd his soul;
+O leave him not a prey unto himself,
+Lest his displeasure, rip'ning in his breast,
+Should work thee woe, so with repentance thou
+Too late my faithful counsel shalt recall.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How! doth the monarch purpose what no man
+Of noble mind, who loves his honest name,
+Whose bosom reverence for the gods restrains,
+Would ever think of? Will he force employ
+To drag me from the altar to his bed?
+Then will I call the gods, and chiefly thee,
+Diana, goddess resolute, to aid me;
+Thyself a virgin, wilt a virgin shield,
+And to thy priestess gladly render aid.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Be tranquil! Passion, and youth's fiery blood
+Impel not Thoas rashly to commit
+A deed so lawless. In his present mood,
+I fear from him another harsh resolve,
+Which (for his soul is steadfast and unmov'd)
+He then will execute without delay.
+Therefore I pray thee, canst thou grant no more;
+At least be grateful--give thy confidence.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oh tell me what is further known to thee.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Learn it from him. I see the king approach:
+Him thou dost honor, thine own heart enjoins
+To meet him kindly and with confidence.
+A man of noble mind may oft be led
+By woman's gentle word.
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+                           How to observe
+His faithful counsel see I not in sooth.
+But willingly the duty I perform
+Of giving thanks for benefits receiv'd,
+And much I wish that to the king my lips
+With truth could utter what would please his ear.
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Her royal gifts the goddess shower on thee
+Imparting conquest, wealth, and high renown
+Dominion, and the welfare of thy house,
+With the fulfilment of each pious wish,
+That thou, whose sway for multitudes provides,
+Thyself may'st be supreme in happiness!
+
+THOAS
+
+Contented were I with my people's praise;
+My conquests others more than I enjoy.
+Oh! be he king or subject, he's most blest;
+Whose happiness is centred in his home.
+My deep affliction thou didst share with me
+What time, in war's encounter, the fell sword
+Tore from my side my last, my dearest son;
+So long as fierce revenge possessed my heart,
+I did not feel my dwelling's dreary void;
+But now, returning home, my rage appeas'd,
+Their kingdom wasted, and my son aveng'd,
+I find there nothing left to comfort me.
+The glad obedience I was wont to see
+Kindling in every eye, is smother'd now
+In discontent and gloom; each, pondering, weighs
+The changes which a future day may bring,
+And serves the childless king, because he must.
+To-day I come within this sacred fane,
+Which I have often enter'd to implore
+And thank the gods for conquest. In my breast
+I bear an old and fondly-cherish'd wish,
+To which methinks thou canst not be a stranger;
+I hope, a blessing to myself and realm,
+To lead thee to my dwelling as my bride.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Too great thine offer, king, to one unknown;
+Abash'd the fugitive before thee stands,
+Who on this shore sought only what thou gavest,
+Safety and peace.
+
+THOAS
+
+                Thus still to shroud thyself
+From me, as from the lowest, in the veil
+Of mystery which wrapp'd thy coming here,
+Would in no country be deem'd just or right.
+Strangers this shore appall'd; 'twas so ordain'd,
+Alike by law and stern necessity.
+From thee alone--a kindly welcom'd guest,
+Who hast enjoy'd each hallow'd privilege,
+And spent thy days in freedom unrestrain'd--
+From thee I hop'd that confidence to gain
+Which every faithful host may justly claim.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+If I conceal'd, O king, my name, my race,
+It was embarrassment, and not mistrust.
+For didst thou know who stands before thee now,
+And what accursed head thine arm protects,
+Strange horror would possess thy mighty heart;
+And, far from wishing me to share thy throne,
+Thou, ere the time appointed, from thy realm
+Wouldst banish me; wouldst thrust me forth, perchance
+Before a glad reunion with my friends
+And period to my wand'rings is ordain'd,
+To meet that sorrow, which in every clime,
+With cold, inhospitable, fearful hand,
+Awaits the outcast, exil'd from his home.
+
+THOAS
+
+Whate'er respecting thee the gods decree,
+Whate'er their doom for thee and for thy house,
+Since thou hast dwelt amongst us, and enjoy'd
+The privilege the pious stranger claims,
+To me hath fail'd no blessing sent from heaven;
+And to persuade me, that protecting thee
+I shield a guilty head, were hard indeed.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy bounty, not the guest, draws blessings down.
+
+THOAS
+
+The kindness shown the wicked is not blest.
+End then thy silence, priestess; not unjust
+Is he who doth demand it. In my hands
+The goddess placed thee; thou hast been to me
+As sacred as to her, and her behest
+Shall for the future also be my law:
+If thou canst hope in safety to return
+Back to thy kindred, I renounce my claims:
+But is thy homeward path for ever closed--
+Or doth thy race in hopeless exile rove,
+Or lie extinguish'd by some mighty woe--
+Then may I claim thee by more laws than one.
+Speak openly, thou know'st I keep my word.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Its ancient bands reluctantly my tongue
+Doth loose, a long hid secret to divulge;
+For once imparted, it resumes no more
+The safe asylum of the inmost heart,
+But thenceforth, as the powers above decree,
+Doth work its ministry of weal or woe.
+Attend! I issue from the Titan's race.
+
+THOAS
+
+A word momentous calmly hast thou spoken.
+Him nam'st thou ancestor whom all the world
+Knows as a sometime favorite of the gods?
+Is it that Tantalus, whom Jove himself
+Drew to his council and his social board?
+On whose experienc'd words, with wisdom fraught,
+As on the language of an oracle,
+E'en gods delighted hung?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                       'Tis even he;
+But the immortal gods with mortal men
+Should not, on equal terms, hold intercourse;
+For all too feeble is the human race,
+Not to grow dizzy on unwonted heights.
+Ignoble was he not, and no betrayer;
+To be the Thunderer's slave, he was too great;
+To be his friend and comrade,--but a man.
+His crime was human, and their doom severe;
+For poets sing, that treachery and pride
+Did from Jove's table hurl him headlong down
+To grovel in the depths of Tartarus.
+Alas, and his whole race must bear their hate.
+
+THOAS
+
+Bear they their own guilt, or their ancestor's?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The Titan's mighty breast and nervous frame
+Was his descendants' certain heritage;
+But round their brow Jove forg'd a band of brass.
+Wisdom and patience, prudence and restraint,
+He from their gloomy, fearful eye conceal'd;
+In them each passion grew to savage rage,
+And headlong rush'd with violence uncheck'd.
+Already Pelops, Tantalus' loved son,
+Mighty of will, obtained his beauteous bride,
+Hippodamia, child of Oenomaus,
+Through treachery and murder; she ere long,
+To glad her consort's heart, bare him two sons,
+Thyest and Atreus. They with envy marked
+The ever-growing love their father bare
+To his first-born, sprung from another union.
+Hate leagued the pair, and secretly they wrought,
+In fratricide, the first dread crime. The sire
+Hippodamia held as murderess,
+With savage rage he claim'd from her his son,
+And she in terror did destroy herself--
+
+THOAS
+
+Thou'rt silent? Pause not in thy narrative;
+Repent not of thy confidence--say on!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How blest is he who his progenitors
+With pride remembers, to the listener tells
+The story of their greatness, of their deeds,
+And, silently rejoicing, sees himself
+The latest link of this illustrious chain!
+For seldom does the selfsame stock produce
+The monster and the demigod: a line
+Of good or evil ushers in, at last,
+The glory or the terror of the world.--
+After the death of Pelops, his two sons
+Rul'd o'er the city with divided sway.
+But such an union could not long endure.
+His brother's honor first Thyestes wounds.
+In vengeance Atreus drove him from the realm.
+Thyestes, planning horrors, long before
+Had stealthily procur'd his brother's son,
+Whom he in secret nurtur'd as his own.
+Revenge and fury in his breast he pour'd,
+Then to the royal city sent him forth,
+That in his uncle he might slay his sire.
+The meditated murder was disclos'd,
+And by the king most cruelly aveng'd,
+Who slaughter'd as he thought, his brother's son.
+Too late he learn'd whose dying tortures met
+His drunken gaze; and seeking to assuage
+The insatiate vengeance that possess'd his soul,
+He plann'd a deed unheard of. He assum'd
+A friendly tone, seem'd reconcil'd, appeas'd,
+And lur'd his brother, with his children twain,
+Back to his kingdom; these he seiz'd and slew;
+Then plac'd the loathsome and abhorrent food
+At his first meal before the unconscious sire.
+And when Thyestes had his hunger still'd
+With his own flesh, a sadness seiz'd his soul;
+He for his children ask'd,--their steps, their voice
+Fancied he heard already at the door;
+And Atreus, grinning with malicious joy,
+Threw in the members of the slaughter'd boys.--
+Shudd'ring, O king, thou dost avert thy face:
+So did the sun his radiant visage hide,
+And swerve his chariot from the eternal path.
+These, monarch, are thy priestess' ancestors,
+And many a dreadful fate of mortal doom,
+And many a deed of the bewilder'd brain,
+Dark night doth cover with her sable wing,
+Or shroud in gloomy twilight.
+
+THOAS
+
+                       Hidden there
+Let them abide. A truce to horror now,
+And tell me by what miracle thou sprangest
+From race so savage.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                    Atreus' eldest son
+Was Agamemnon; he, O king, my sire:
+But I may say with truth, that, from a child,
+In him the model of a perfect man
+I witness'd ever. Clytemnestra bore
+To him, myself, the firstling of their love,
+Electra then. Peaceful the monarch rul'd,
+And to the house of Tantalus was given
+A long-withheld repose. A son alone
+Was wanting to complete my parents' bliss;
+Scarce was this wish fulfill'd, and young Orestes,
+The household's darling, with his sisters grew,
+When new misfortunes vex'd our ancient house.
+To you hath come the rumor of the war,
+Which, to avenge the fairest woman's wrongs,
+The force united of the Grecian kings
+Round Ilion's walls encamp'd. Whether the town
+Was humbled, and achieved their great revenge,
+I have not heard. My father led the host.
+In Aulis vainly for a favoring gale
+They waited; for, enrag'd against their chief,
+Diana stay'd their progress, and requir'd,
+Through Chalcas' voice, the monarch's eldest daughter.
+They lured me with my mother to the camp,
+They dragged me to the altar, and this head
+There to the goddess doomed.--She was appeased;
+She did not wish my blood, and shrouded me
+In a protecting cloud; within this temple
+I first awakened from the dream of death;
+Yes, I myself am she, Iphigenia,
+Grandchild of Atreus, Agamemnon's child,
+Diana's priestess, I who speak with thee.
+
+THOAS
+
+I yield no higher honor or regard
+To the king's daughter than the maid unknown;
+Once more my first proposal I repeat;
+Come follow me, and share what I possess.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How dare I venture such a step, O king?
+Hath not the goddess who protected me
+Alone a right to my devoted head?
+'Twas she who chose for me this sanctuary,
+Where she perchance reserves me for my sire,
+By my apparent death enough chastis'd.
+To be the joy and solace of his age.
+Perchance my glad return is near; and how,
+If I, unmindful of her purposes,
+Had here attach'd myself against her will?
+I ask'd a signal, did she wish my stay.
+
+THOAS
+
+The signal is that still thou tarriest here.
+Seek not evasively such vain pretexts.
+Not many words are needed to refuse,
+The _no_ alone is heard by the refused.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Mine are not words meant only to deceive;
+I have to thee my inmost heart reveal'd.
+And doth no inward voice suggest to thee,
+How I with yearning soul must pine to see
+My father, mother, and my long-lost home?
+Oh let thy vessels bear me thither, king?
+That in the ancient halls, where sorrow still
+In accents low doth fondly breathe my name,
+Joy, as in welcome of a new-born child,
+May round the columns twine the fairest wreath.
+New life thou wouldst to me and mine impart.
+
+THOAS
+
+Then go! Obey the promptings of thy heart;
+And to the voice of reason and good counsel,
+Close thou thine ear. Be quite the woman, give
+To every wish the rein, that brideless
+May seize on thee, and whirl thee here and there.
+When burns the fire of passion in her breast,
+No sacred tie withholds her from the wretch
+Who would allure her to forsake for him
+A husband's or a father's guardian arms;
+Extinct within her heart its fiery glow,
+The golden tongue of eloquence in vain
+With words of truth and power assails her ear.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Remember now, O king, thy noble words!
+My trust and candor wilt thou thus repay?
+Thou seem'st, methinks, prepar'd to hear the truth.
+
+THOAS
+
+For this unlook'd-for answer not prepar'd.
+Yet 'twas to be expected; knew I not
+That with a woman I had now to deal?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Upbraid not thus, O king, our feeble sex!
+Though not in dignity to match with yours,
+The weapons woman wields are not ignoble.
+And trust me, Thoas, in thy happiness
+I have a deeper insight than thyself.
+Thou thinkest, ignorant alike of both,
+A closer union would augment our bliss;
+Inspir'd with confidence and honest zeal
+Thou strongly urgest me to yield consent;
+And here I thank the gods, who give me strength
+To shun a doom unratified by them.
+
+THOAS
+
+'Tis not a god, 'tis thine own heart that speaks.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+'Tis through the heart alone they speak to us.
+
+THOAS
+
+To hear them have I not an equal right?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The raging tempest drowns the still small voice.
+
+THOAS
+
+This voice no doubt the priestess hears alone.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Before all others should the prince attend it.
+
+THOAS
+
+Thy sacred office, and ancestral right
+To Jove's own table, place thee with the gods
+In closer union than an earth-born savage.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thus must I now the confidence atone
+Thyself didst wring from me!
+
+THOAS
+
+                              I am a man.
+And better 'tis we end this conference.
+Hear then my last resolve. Be priestess still
+Of the great goddess who selected thee;
+And may she pardon me, that I from her,
+Unjustly and with secret self-reproach,
+Her ancient sacrifice so long withheld.
+From olden time no stranger near'd our shore
+But fell a victim at her sacred shrine.
+But thou, with kind affection (which at times
+Seem'd like a gentle daughter's tender love,
+At times assum'd to my enraptur'd heart
+The modest inclination of a bride),
+Didst so inthral me, as with magic bowls,
+That I forgot my duty. Thou didst rock
+My senses in a dream: I did not hear
+My people's murmurs: now they cry aloud,
+Ascribing my poor son's untimely death
+To this my guilt. No longer for thy sake
+Will I oppose the wishes of the crowd,
+Who urgently demand the sacrifice.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+For mine own sake I ne'er desired it from thee.
+Who to the gods ascribe a thirst for blood
+Do misconceive their nature, and impute
+To them their own inhuman dark desires.
+Did not Diana snatch me from the priest,
+Holding my service dearer than my death?
+
+THOAS
+
+'Tis not for us, on reason's shifting grounds,
+Lightly to guide and construe rites divine.
+Perform thy duty; I'll accomplish mine.
+Two strangers, whom in caverns of the shore
+We found conceal'd, and whose arrival here
+Bodes to my realm no good, are in my power.
+With them thy goddess may once more resume
+Her ancient, pious, long-suspended rites!
+I send them here,--thy duty not unknown.
+                                  [_Exit_.]
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+Gracious protectress! thou hast clouds
+To shelter innocence distress'd,
+And from the arms of iron fate,
+Gently to waft her o'er the sea,
+O'er the wide earth's remotest realms,
+Where'er it seemeth good to thee.
+Wise art thou,--thine all-seeing eye
+The future and the past surveys;
+Thy glance doth o'er thy children rest,
+E'en as thy light, the life of night,
+Keeps o'er the earth its silent watch.
+O Goddess! keep my hands from blood!
+Blessing it never brings, and peace;
+And still in evil hours the form
+Of the chance-murder'd man appears
+To fill the unwilling murderer's soul
+With horrible and gloomy fears.
+For fondly the Immortals view
+Man's widely scatter'd simple race;
+And the poor mortal's transient life
+Gladly prolong, that he may lift
+Awhile to their eternal heavens
+His sympathetic joyous gaze.
+
+
+ACT II
+
+SCENE I
+
+ORESTES, PYLADES
+
+
+ORESTES
+
+It is the path of death that now we tread
+At every step my soul grows more serene.
+When I implor'd Apollo to remove
+The grisly band of Furies from my side,
+He seem'd, with hope-inspiring, godlike words,
+To promise aid and safety in the fane
+Of his lov'd sister, who o'er Tauris rules.
+Thus the prophetic word fulfils itself,
+That with my life shall terminate my woe.
+How easy 'tis for me, whose heart is crush'd,
+Whose sense is deaden'd by a hand divine,
+Thus to renounce the beauteous light of day!
+And must the son of Atreus not entwine
+The wreath of conquest round his dying brow--
+Must I, as my forefathers, as my sire,
+Bleed like a victim,--an ignoble death--
+So be it! Better at the altar here,
+Than in a nook obscure, where kindred hands
+Have spread assassination's wily net.
+Yield me this brief repose, infernal Powers!
+Ye, who, like loosen'd hounds, still scent the blood
+Which, trickling from my feet, betrays my path.
+Leave me! ere long I come to you below.
+Nor you, nor I, should view the light of day.
+The soft green carpet of the beauteous earth
+Is no arena for unhallow'd fiends.
+Below I seek you, where an equal fate
+Binds all in murky, never-ending night.
+Thee only, thee, my Pylades, my friend,
+The guiltless partner of my crime and curse,
+Thee am I loath, before thy time, to take
+To yonder cheerless shore! Thy life or death
+Alone awakens in me hope or fear.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Like thee, Orestes, I am not prepared
+Downwards to wander to yon realm of shade.
+I purpose still, through the entangled paths,
+Which seem as they would lead to blackest night,
+Again to wind our upward way to life.
+Of death I think not; I observe and mark
+Whether the gods may not perchance present
+Means and fit moment for a joyful flight.
+Dreaded or not, the stroke of death must come;
+And though the priestess stood with hand uprais'd,
+Prepar'd to cut our consecrated locks,
+Our safety still should be my only thought;
+Uplift thy soul above this weak despair;
+Desponding doubts but hasten on our peril.
+Apollo pledg'd to us his sacred word,
+That in his sister's holy fane for thee
+Were comfort, aid, and glad return prepar'd.
+The words of Heaven are not equivocal,
+As in despair the poor oppress'd one thinks.
+
+ORESTES
+
+The mystic web of life my mother cast
+Around my infant head, and so I grew
+An image of my sire; and my mute look
+Was aye a bitter and a keen reproof
+To her and base AEgisthus. Oh, how oft,
+When silently within our gloomy hall
+Electra sat, and mus'd beside the fire,
+Have I with anguish'd spirit climb'd her knee,
+And watch'd her bitter tears with sad amaze!
+Then would she tell me of our noble sire
+How much I long'd to see him--be with him!
+Myself at Troy one moment fondly wish'd,
+My sire's return, the next. The day arrived--
+
+PYLADES
+
+Oh, of that awful hour let fiends of hell
+Hold nightly converse! Of a time more fair
+May the remembrance animate our hearts
+To fresh heroic deeds. The gods require
+On this wide earth the service of the good,
+To work their pleasure. Still they count on thee;
+For in thy father's train they sent thee not,
+When he to Orcus went unwilling down.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Would I had seized the border of his robe,
+And followed him!
+
+PYLADES
+
+                  They kindly cared for me
+Who held thee here; for hadst thou ceased to live,
+I know not what had then become of me;
+Since I with thee, and for thy sake alone,
+Have from my childhood liv'd, and wish to live.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Remind me not of those delightsome days,
+When me thy home a safe asylum gave;
+With fond solicitude thy noble sire
+The half-nipp'd, tender flow'ret gently rear'd:
+While thou, a friend and playmate always gay,
+Like to a light and brilliant butterfly
+Around a dusky flower, didst day by day
+Around me with new life thy gambols urge,
+And breathe thy joyous spirit in my soul,
+Until, my cares forgetting, I with thee
+Was lur'd to snatch the eager joys of youth.
+
+PYLADES
+
+My very life began when thee I lov'd.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Say, then thy woes began, and thou speak'st truly.
+This is the sharpest sorrow of my lot,
+That, like a plague-infected wretch, I bear
+Death and destruction hid within my breast;
+That, where I tread, e'en on the healthiest spot,
+Ere long the blooming faces round betray
+The anguish'd features of a ling'ring death.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Were thy breath venom, I had been the first
+To die, that death, Orestes. Am I not,
+As ever, full of courage and of joy?
+And love and courage are the spirit's wings
+Wafting to noble actions.
+
+ORESTES
+
+                         Noble actions?
+Time was, when fancy painted such before us!
+When oft, the game pursuing, on we roam'd
+O'er hill and valley; hoping that ere long,
+Like our great ancestors in heart and hand,
+With club and weapon arm'd, we so might track
+The robber to his den, or monster huge.
+And then at twilight, by the boundless sea,
+Peaceful we sat, reclin'd against each other,
+The waves came dancing to our very feet,
+And all before us lay the wide, wide world;
+Then on a sudden one would seize his sword,
+And future deeds shone round us like the stars,
+Which gemm'd in countless throngs the vault of night.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Endless, my friend, the projects which the soul
+Burns to accomplish. We would every deed
+At once perform as grandly as it shows
+After long ages, when from land to land
+The poet's swelling song hath roll'd it on.
+It sounds so lovely what our fathers did,
+When, in the silent evening shade reclin'd,
+We drink it in with music's melting tones;
+And what we do is, as their deeds to them,
+Toilsome and incomplete!
+Thus we pursue what always flies before;
+We disregard the path in which we tread,
+Scarce see around the footsteps of our sires,
+Or heed the trace of their career on earth.
+We ever hasten on to chase their shades,
+Which, godlike, at a distance far remote,
+On golden clouds, the mountain summits crown.
+The man I prize not who esteems himself
+Just as the people's breath may chance to raise him.
+But thou, Orestes, to the gods give thanks.
+That they through thee have early done so much.
+
+ORESTES
+
+When they ordain a man to noble deeds,
+To shield from dire calamity his friends,
+Extend his empire, or protect its bounds,
+Or put to flight its ancient enemies,
+Let him be grateful! For to him a god
+Imparts the first, the sweetest joy of life.
+Me have they doom'd to be a slaughterer,
+To be an honor'd mother's murderer,
+And shamefully a deed of shame avenging,
+Me through their own decree they have o'erwhelm'd.
+Trust me, the race of Tantalus is doom'd;
+And I, his last descendant, may not perish,
+Or crown'd with honor or unstain'd by crime.
+
+PYLADES
+
+The gods avenge not on the son the deeds
+Done by the father. Each, or good or bad,
+Of his own actions reaps the due reward.
+The parents' blessing, not their curse, descends.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Methinks their blessing did not lead us here.
+
+PYLADES
+
+It was at least the mighty gods' decree.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Then is it their decree which doth destroy us.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Perform what they command, and wait the event.
+Do thou Apollo's sister bear from hence,
+That they at Delphi may united dwell,
+There by a noble-thoughted race revered,
+Thee, for this deed, the lofty pair will view
+With gracious eye, and from the hateful grasp
+Of the infernal Powers will rescue thee.
+E'en now none dares intrude within this grove.
+
+ORESTES
+
+So shall I die at least a peaceful death.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Far other are my thoughts, and not unskill'd
+Have I the future and the past combin'd
+In quiet meditation. Long, perchance,
+Hath ripen'd in the counsel of the gods
+The great event. Diana yearns to leave
+The savage coast of these barbarians,
+Foul with their sacrifice of human blood.
+We were selected for the high emprize;
+To us it is assign'd, and strangely thus
+We are conducted to the threshold here.
+
+ORESTES
+
+My friend, with wondrous skill thou link'st thy wish
+With the predestin'd purpose of the gods.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Of what avail is prudence, if it fail
+Heedful to mark the purposes of Heaven!
+A noble man, who much hath sinn'd, some god
+Doth summon to a dangerous enterprize,
+Which to achieve appears impossible.
+The hero conquers, and atoning serves
+Mortals and gods, who thenceforth honor him.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Am I foredoom'd to action and to life,
+Would that a god from my distemper'd brain
+Might chase this dizzy fever, which impels
+My restless steps along a slipp'ry path.
+Stain'd with a mother's blood, to direful death;
+And pitying, dry the fountain, whence the blood,
+For ever spouting from a mother's wounds,
+Eternally defiles me!
+
+PYLADES
+
+                         Wait in peace!
+Thou dost increase the evil, and dost take
+The office of the Furies on thyself.
+Let me contrive,--be still! And when at length
+The time for action claims our powers combin'd,
+Then will I summon thee, and on we'll stride,
+With cautious boldness to achieve the event.
+
+ORESTES
+
+I hear Ulysses speak.
+
+PYLADES
+
+                Nay, mock me not.
+Each must select the hero after whom
+To climb the steep and difficult ascent
+Of high Olympus. And to me it seems
+That him nor stratagem nor art defiles
+Who consecrates himself to noble deeds.
+
+ORESTES
+
+I most esteem the brave and upright man.
+
+PYLADES
+
+And therefore have I not desir'd thy counsel.
+One step's already taken. From our guards
+E'en now I this intelligence have gained.
+A strange and godlike woman holds in check
+The execution of that bloody law
+Incense, and prayer, and an unsullied heart,
+These are the gifts she offers to the gods.
+Rumor extols her highly, it is thought
+That from the race of Amazon she springs,
+And hither fled some great calamity.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Her gentle sway, it seems, lost all its power
+When hither came the culprit, whom the curse,
+Like murky night, envelops and pursues.
+Our doom to seal, the pious thirst for blood
+The ancient cruel rite again unchains
+The monarch's savage will decrees our death;
+A woman cannot save when he condemns.
+
+PYLADES
+
+That 'tis a woman, is a ground for hope!
+A man, the very best, with cruelty
+At length may so familiarize his mind,
+His character through custom so transform,
+That he shall come to make himself a law
+Of what at first his very soul abhorr'd.
+But woman doth retain the stamp of mind
+She first assum'd. On her we may depend
+In good or evil with more certainty.
+She comes; leave us alone. I dare not tell
+At once our names, nor unreserv'd confide
+Our fortunes to her. Now retire awhile,
+And ere she speaks with thee we'll meet again.
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+IPHIGENIA, PYLADES
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Whence art thou? Stranger, speak! To me thy bearing
+Stamps thee of Grecian, not of Scythian race.
+
+[_She unbinds his chains_.]
+
+The freedom that I give is dangerous;
+The gods avert the doom that threatens you!
+
+PYLADES
+
+Delicious music! dearly welcome tones
+Of our own language in a foreign land
+With joy my captive eye once more beholds
+The azure mountains of my native coast.
+Oh, let this joy that I, too, am a Greek
+Convince thee, priestess! How I need thine aid,
+A moment I forget, my spirit rapt
+In contemplation of so fair a vision.
+If fate's dread mandate doth not seal thy lips,
+From which of our illustrious races say,
+Dost thou thy godlike origin derive?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The priestess whom the goddess hath herself
+Selected and ordained, doth speak with thee.
+Let that suffice: but tell me, who art thou,
+And what unbless'd o'erruling destiny
+Hath hither led thee with thy friend?
+
+PYLADES
+
+                             The woe,
+Whose hateful presence ever dogs our steps,
+I can with ease relate. Oh, would that thou
+Couldst with like ease, divine one, shed on us
+One ray of cheering hope! We are from Crete,
+Adrastus' sons, and I, the youngest born,
+Named Cephalus; my eldest brother, he,
+Laodamas. Between us stood a youth
+Savage and wild, who severed e'en in sport
+The joy and concord of our early youth.
+Long as our father led his powers at Troy,
+Passive our mother's mandate we obey'd;
+But when, enrich'd with booty, he return'd,
+And shortly after died, a contest fierce
+Both for the kingdom and their father's wealth,
+His children parted. I the eldest joined;
+He slew our brother; and the Furies hence
+For kindred murder dog his restless steps.
+But to this savage shore the Delphian god
+Hath sent us, cheer'd by hope. He bade us wait
+Within his sister's consecrated fane
+The blessed hand of aid. Captives we are,
+And, hither brought, before thee now we stand
+Ordain'd for sacrifice. My tale is told.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Fell Troy! Dear man, assure me of its fall.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Prostrate it lies. O unto us ensure
+Deliverance. The promised aid of Heaven
+More swiftly bring. Take pity on my brother.
+O say to him a kind, a gracious word;
+But spare him when thou speakest, earnestly
+This I implore: for all too easily
+Through joy and sorrow and through memory
+Torn and distracted is his inmost being.
+A feverish madness oft doth seize on him,
+Yielding his spirit, beautiful and free,
+A prey to furies.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+               Great as is thy woe,
+Forget it, I conjure thee, for a while,
+Till I am satisfied.
+
+PYLADES
+
+                    The stately town,
+Which ten long years withstood the Grecian host,
+Now lies in ruins, ne'er to rise again;
+Yet many a hero's grave will oft recall
+Our sad remembrance to that barbarous shore.
+There lies Achilles and his noble friend.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+So are ye godlike forms reduc'd to dust!
+
+PYLADES
+
+Nor Palamede, nor Ajax, ere again
+The daylight of their native land beheld.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+He speaks not of my father, doth not name
+Him with the fallen. He may yet survive!
+I may behold him! still hope on, fond heart!
+
+PYLADES
+
+Yet happy are the thousands who receiv'd
+Their bitter death-blow from a hostile hand!
+For terror wild, and end most tragical.
+Some hostile, angry deity prepar'd,
+Instead of triumph, for the home-returning.
+Do human voices never reach this shore?
+Far as their sound extends, they bear the fame
+Of deeds unparallel'd. And is the woe
+Which fills Mycene's halls with ceaseless sighs
+To thee a secret still?--And know'st thou not
+That Clytemnestra, with AEgisthus' aid,
+Her royal consort artfully ensnar'd,
+And murder'd on the day of his return?--
+The monarch's house thou honorest! I perceive.
+Thy breast with tidings vainly doth contend
+Fraught with such monstrous and unlook'd for woe.
+Art thou the daughter of a friend? Art born
+Within the circuit of Mycene's walls?
+Conceal it not, nor call me to account
+That here the horrid crime I first announce.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Proceed, and tell me how the deed was done.
+
+PYLADES
+
+The day of his return, as from the bath
+Arose the monarch, tranquil and refresh'd,
+His robe demanding from his consort's hand,
+A tangled garment, complicate with folds,
+She o'er his shoulders flung and noble head;
+And when, as from a net, he vainly strove
+To extricate himself, the traitor, base
+AEgisthus, smote him, and envelop'd thus
+Great Agamemnon sought the shades below.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+And what reward receiv'd the base accomplice?
+
+PYLADES
+
+A queen and kingdom he possess'd already.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Base passion prompted then the deed of shame?
+
+PYLADES
+
+And feelings, cherish'd long, of deep revenge.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+How had the monarch injured Clytemnestra?
+
+PYLADES
+
+By such a dreadful deed, that if on earth
+Aught could exculpate murder, it were this.
+To Aulis he allur'd her, when the fleet
+With unpropitious winds the goddess stay'd;
+And there, a victim at Diana's shrine,
+The monarch, for the welfare of the Greeks,
+Her eldest daughter doomed, Iphigenia.
+And this, so rumor saith, within her heart
+Planted such deep abhorrence that forthwith
+She to AEgisthus hath resigned herself,
+And round her husband flung the web of death.
+
+IPHIGENIA (_veiling herself_)
+
+It is enough! Thou wilt again behold me.
+
+PYLADES (_alone_)
+
+The fortune of this royal house, it seems,
+Doth move her deeply. Whosoe'er she be,
+She must herself have known the monarch well;--
+For our good fortune, from a noble house,
+She hath been sold to bondage. Peace, my heart!
+And let us steer our course with prudent zeal
+Toward the star of hope which gleams upon us.
+
+
+ACT III
+
+SCENE I
+
+IPHIGENIA, ORESTES
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Unhappy man, I only loose thy bonds
+In token of a still severer doom.
+The freedom which the sanctuary imparts,
+Like the last life-gleam o'er the dying face,
+But heralds death. I cannot, dare not, say
+Your doom is hopeless; for, with murderous hand,
+Could I inflict the fatal blow myself?
+And while I here am priestess of Diana,
+None, be he who he may, dare touch your heads.
+But the incensed king, should I refuse
+Compliance with the rites himself enjoin'd,
+Will choose another virgin from my train
+As my successor. Then, alas! with naught,
+Save ardent wishes, can I succor you.
+Much honored countrymen! The humblest slave,
+Who had but near'd our sacred household hearth,
+Is dearly welcome in a foreign land;
+How with proportion'd joy and blessing, then,
+Shall I receive the man who doth recall
+The image of the heroes, whom I learn'd
+To honor from my parents, and who cheers
+My inmost heart with flatt'ring gleams of hope!
+
+ORESTES
+
+Does prudent forethought prompt thee to conceal
+Thy name and race? or may I hope to know
+Who, like a heavenly vision, meets me thus?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Yes, thou shalt know me. Now conclude the tale
+Of which thy brother only told me half
+Relate their end, who coming home from Troy,
+On their own threshold met a doom severe
+And most unlook'd for. Young I was in sooth
+When first conducted to this foreign shore,
+Yet well I recollect the timid glance
+Of wonder and amazement which I cast
+On those heroic forms. When they went forth
+It seem'd as though Olympus had sent down
+The glorious figures of a bygone world,
+To frighten Ilion; and above them all,
+Great Agamemnon tower'd preeminent!
+Oh, tell me! Fell the hero in his home,
+Through Clytemnestra's and AEgisthus' wiles?
+
+ORESTES
+
+He fell!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+           Unblest Mycene! Thus the sons
+Of Tantalus, with barbarous hands, have sown
+Curse upon curse; and, as the shaken weed
+Scatters around a thousand poison-seeds,
+So they assassins ceaseless generate,
+Their children's children ruthless to destroy.--
+Now tell the remnant of thy brother's tale,
+Which horror darkly hid from me before.
+How did the last descendant of the race,--
+The gentle child, to whom the Gods assign'd
+The office of avenger,--how did he
+Escape that day of blood? Did equal fate
+Around Orestes throw Avernus' net
+Say, was he saved? and is he still alive?
+And lives Electra, too?
+
+ORESTES
+
+They both survive.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Golden Apollo, lend thy choicest beams!
+Lay them an offering at the throne of Jove!
+For I am poor and dumb.
+
+ORESTES
+
+                         If social bonds
+Or ties more close connect thee with this house,
+As this thy rapturous joy betrayeth to me,
+O then rein in thy heart and hold it fast!
+For insupportable the sudden plunge
+From happiness to sorrow's gloomy depth.
+Thou knowest only Agamemnon's death.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+And is not this intelligence enough?
+
+ORESTES
+
+Half of the horror only hast thou heard.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+What should I fear'? Orestes, Electra lives.
+
+ORESTES
+
+And fearest thou for Clytemnestra naught?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Her, neither hope nor fear have power to save.
+
+ORESTES
+
+She to the land of hope hath bid farewell.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Did her repentant hand shed her own blood?
+
+ORESTES
+
+Not so; yet her own blood inflicted death.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+More plainly speak, nor leave me in suspense.
+Uncertainty around my anxious head
+Her dusky, thousand-folded pinion waves.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Have then the powers above selected me
+To be the herald of a dreadful deed,
+Which in the drear and soundless realms of night
+I fain would hide for ever? 'Gainst my will
+Thy gentle voice constrains me; it demands,
+And shall receive, a tale of direst woe.
+Electra, on the day when fell her sire,
+Her brother from impending doom conceal'd;
+Him Strophius, his father's relative,
+Receiv'd with kindest care, and rear'd him up
+With his own son, named Pylades, who soon
+Around the stranger twin'd love's fairest bonds.
+And as they grew, within their inmost souls
+There sprang the burning longing to revenge
+The monarch's death. Unlook'd for, and disguis'd,
+They reach Mycene, feigning to have brought
+The mournful tidings of Orestes' death,
+Together with his ashes. Them the queen
+Gladly receives. Within the house they enter;
+Orestes to Electra shows himself:
+She fans the fires of vengeance into flame,
+Which in the sacred presence of a mother
+Had burn'd more dimly. Silently she leads
+Her brother to the spot where fell their sire;
+Where lurid blood-marks, on the oft-wash'd floor,
+With pallid streaks, anticipate revenge.
+With fiery eloquence she pictured forth
+Each circumstance of that atrocious deed,
+Her own oppress'd and miserable life,
+The prosperous traitor's insolent demeanor,
+The perils threat'ning Agamemnon's race
+From her who had become their stepmother,
+Then in his hand the ancient dagger thrust,
+Which often in the house of Tantalus
+With savage fury rag'd,--and by her son
+Was Clytemnestra slain.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                    Immortal powers!
+Whose pure and blest existence glides away
+'Mid ever shifting clouds, me have ye kept
+So many years secluded from the world,
+Retain'd me near yourselves, consign'd to me
+The childlike task to feed the sacred fire,
+And taught my spirit, like the hallow'd flame,
+With never-clouded brightness to aspire
+To your pure mansions,--but at length to feel
+With keener woe the horror of my house?
+O tell me of the poor unfortunate!
+Speak of Orestes!
+
+ORESTES
+
+O could I speak to tell thee of his death!
+Forth from the slain one's spouting blood arose
+His mother's ghost;
+And to the ancient daughters of the night
+Cries,--"Let him not escape,--the matricide!
+Pursue the victim, dedicate to you!"
+They hear, and glare around with hollow eyes,
+Like greedy eagles. In their murky dens
+They stir themselves, and from the corners creep
+Their comrades, dire Remorse and pallid Fear;
+Before them fumes a mist of Acheron;
+Perplexingly around the murderer's brow
+The eternal contemplation of the past
+Rolls in its cloudy circles. Once again
+The grisly band, commission'd to destroy,
+Pollute earth's beautiful and heaven-sown fields,
+From which an ancient curse had banish'd them.
+Their rapid feet the fugitive pursue;
+They only pause to start a wilder fear.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Unhappy one; thy lot resembles his,
+Thou feel'st what he, poor fugitive, must suffer.
+
+ORESTES
+
+What say'st thou? why presume my fate like his?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+A brother's murder weighs upon thy soul;
+Thy younger brother told the mournful tale.
+
+ORESTES
+
+I cannot suffer that thy noble soul
+Should by a word of falsehood be deceived.
+In cunning rich and practised in deceit
+A web ensnaring let the stranger weave
+To snare the stranger's feet; between us twain
+Be truth!
+I am Orestes! and this guilty head
+Is stooping to the tomb, and covets death;
+It will be welcome now in any shape.
+Whoe'er thou art, for thee and for my friend
+I wish deliverance--I desire it not.
+Thou seem'st to linger here against thy will;
+Contrive some means of flight, and leave me here
+My lifeless corpse hurl'd headlong from the rock,
+My blood shall mingle with the dashing waves,
+And bring a curse upon this barbarous shore!
+Return together home to lovely Greece,
+With joy a new existence to commence.
+
+[ORESTES _retires_.]
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+At length Fulfilment, fairest child of Jove,
+Thou dost descend upon me from on high!
+How vast thine image! Scarce my straining eye
+Can reach thy hands, which, fill'd with golden fruit
+And wreaths of blessing, from Olympus' height
+Shower treasures down. As by his bounteous gifts
+We recognize the monarch (for what seems
+To thousands opulence, is naught to him),
+So you, ye heavenly Powers, are also known
+By bounty long withheld, and wisely plann'd.
+Ye only know what things are good for us;
+Ye view the future's wide-extended realm,
+While from our eye a dim or starry veil
+ The prospect shrouds. Calmly ye hear our prayers,
+When we like children sue for greater speed.
+Not immature ye pluck heaven's golden fruit;
+And woe to him, who with impatient hand,
+His date of joy forestalling, gathers death.
+Let not this long-awaited happiness,
+Which yet my heart hath scarcely realiz'd,
+Like to the shadow of departed friends,
+Glide vainly by with triple sorrow fraught!
+
+ORESTES (_returning_)
+
+Dost thou for Pylades and for thyself
+Implore the gods, blend not my name with yours;
+Thou wilt not save the wretch whom thou wouldst join,
+But will participate his curse and woe.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+My destiny is firmly bound to thine.
+
+ORESTES
+
+No; say not so: alone and unattended
+Let me descend to Hades. Though thou shouldst
+In thine own veil enwrap the guilty one,
+Thou couldst not shroud him from his wakeful foes;
+And e'en thy sacred presence, heavenly maid,
+But driveth them aside and scares them not.
+With brazen, impious feet they dare not tread
+Within the precincts of this sacred grove
+Yet in the distance, ever and anon,
+I hear their horrid laughter, like the howl
+Of famish'd wolves, beneath the tree wherein
+The traveler hides. Without, encamp'd they lie,
+And should I quit this consecrated grove,
+Shaking their serpent locks, they would arise,
+And, raising clouds of dust on every side,
+Ceaseless pursue their miserable prey.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Orestes, canst thou hear a friendly word
+
+ORESTES
+
+Reserve it for one favor'd by the gods.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+To thee they give anew the light of hope.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Through clouds and smoke I see the feeble gleam
+Of the death-stream which lights me down to hell.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Hast thou one sister only, thy Electra?
+
+ORESTES
+
+I knew but one: yet her kind destiny,
+Which seemed to us so terrible, betimes
+Removed an elder sister from the woe
+Which o'er the house of Pelops aye impends.
+O cease thy questions, nor thus league thyself
+With the Erinnys; still they blow away,
+With fiendish joy, the ashes from my soul,
+Lest the last embers of the fiery brand
+The fatal heritage of Pelops' house,
+Should there be quenched. Must then the fire for aye,
+Deliberately kindled and supplied
+With hellish sulphur, sear my tortured soul!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I scatter fragrant incense in the flame.
+O let the pure, the gentle breath of love,
+Low murmuring, cool thy bosom's fiery glow.
+Orestes, fondly lov'd,--canst thou not hear me?
+Hath the terrific Furies' grisly band
+Dried up the blood of life within thy veins?
+Creeps there, as from the Gorgon's direful head,
+A petrifying charm through all thy limbs?
+With hollow accents from a mother's blood,
+If voices call thee to the shades below,
+May not a sister's word with blessing rife
+Call from Olympus' height help-rendering gods?
+
+ORESTES
+
+She calls! she calls!--Dost thou desire my doom?
+Is there a Fury shrouded in thy form?
+Who art thou, that thy voice thus horribly
+Can harrow up my bosom's inmost depths!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thine inmost heart reveals it. I am she,--
+Iphigenia,--look on me, Orestes!
+
+ORESTES
+
+Thou!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+My own brother!
+
+ORESTES
+
+                       Hence, away, begone!
+I counsel thee, touch not these fatal locks!
+As from Creusa's bridal robe, from me
+An inextinguishable fire is kindled.
+Leave me! Like Hercules, a death of shame,
+Unworthy wretch, locked in myself, I'll die!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thou shalt not perish! Would that I might hear
+One quiet word from thee! dispel my doubts,
+Make sure the bliss I have implored so long.
+A wheel of joy and sorrow in my heart,
+Ceaseless revolves. I from a man unknown
+With horror turn; but with resistless might
+My inmost heart impels me to my brother.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Is this Lyaeus' temple? Doth the glow
+Of holy rage unbridled thus possess
+The sacred priestess?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                        Hear me, oh, look up!
+See how my heart, which hath been closed so long
+Doth open to the bliss of seeing thee,
+The dearest treasure that the world contains,--
+Of falling on thy neck, and folding thee
+Within my longing arms, which have till now
+Met the embraces of the empty wind.
+Do not repulse me,--the eternal spring,
+Whose crystal waters from Parnassus flow,
+Bounds not more gaily on from rock to rock,
+Down to the golden vale, than from my heart
+The waters of affection freely gush,
+And round me form a circling sea of bliss.
+Orestes! O my brother!
+
+ORESTES
+
+                         Lovely nymph!
+Nor thy caresses, nor thyself I trust;
+Diana claims attendants more severe,
+And doth avenge her desecrated fane.
+Remove thy circling arm! Wilt thou indeed
+Safety and love upon a youth bestow,
+And fondly tender him earth's fairest joy
+Unto my friend, more worthy than myself,
+Impart thy favors; 'mong yon rocks he roves.
+Go, seek him; guide him hence, and heed not me.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Brother, command thyself, and better know
+Thy sister, newly found! Misconstrue not
+Her pure and heavenly rapture, blaming it
+As lustful heat unbridled. O ye gods,
+Remove delusion from his rigid gaze,
+Lest that this moment, fraught with bliss supreme,
+Should make us trebly wretched! She is here,
+Thine own, thy long-lost sister! From the altar
+The goddess rescued me, and placed me here,
+Secure within her consecrated fane--
+A captive thou, prepared for sacrifice,
+And findest here a sister in the priestess.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Unblessed one! So may the radiant sun
+The final horror of our house behold!
+Is not Electra here? That she with us
+May also perish, nor her life prolong
+For heavier destiny and direr woe.
+'Tis well,--I follow, priestess! Fratricide
+Is an old custom of our ancient house;
+And you, ye gods, I thank, that ye resolve
+Childless to root me hence. Thee let me counsel
+To view too fondly neither sun nor stars.
+Come, follow to the gloomy realms below!
+As dragons, gender'd in the sulphur pool,
+Swallow each other with voracious rage,
+So our accursed race destroys itself.
+Childless and guiltless come below with me!
+There's pity in thy look! oh, gaze not so,--
+'Twas with such looks that Clytemnestra sought
+An entrance to her son Orestes' heart,
+And yet his uprais'd arm her bosom pierc'd.
+His mother fell!--Appear, indignant shade!
+Within the circle step, ye fiends of hell,
+Be present at the welcome spectacle,
+The last, most horrible that ye prepare!
+Nor hate, nor vengeance whets the poniard now;
+A loving sister is constrain'd to deal
+The fatal blow. Weep not! Thou hast no guilt.
+From earliest infancy I naught have lov'd,
+As thee I could have lov'd, my sister. Come,
+The weapon raise, spare not, this bosom rend,
+And make an outlet for its boiling streams!
+
+[_He sinks exhausted_.]
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Alone I cannot bear this bliss and woe.
+Where art thou, Pylades? Thine aid I need.
+[IPHIGENIA _retires_.]
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+ORESTES (_recovering from his swoon and standing up_)
+
+Give yet another! reach from Lethe's stream
+The last reviving draught of cool refreshment!
+Soon shall its waters in my bosom still
+Life's fitful fever; and my spirit then
+Adown oblivion's stream shall glide to you,
+Ye spirits shrouded in eternal mist.
+With tranquil pleasure in your deep repose
+A weary son of earth may lave his soul!--
+What whisp'ring sounds pervade the dreary grove?
+What hollow murmurs haunt its twilight gloom?--
+They gather round to view the stranger guest!
+Who are you troop in high communion met,
+Like an assembled family of princes?
+They mingle peacefully, of every age,
+Of either sex; godlike, of kindred mould,
+Appear the gliding figures. Yes, 'tis they,
+The fathers of my race! With Atreus,
+In friendly converse glides Thyestes' shade,
+And children playfully around them sport.
+Is there no enmity among you now?
+And is revenge extinguish'd with the sun
+So am I also welcome, and may hope
+To mingle in your solemn company.
+Welcome, my sires! Orestes bids you hail!
+The seed that ye have sow'd, that hath he reap'd.
+Laden with curses he descends to you.
+But burdens here are lighter far to bear.
+Receive him, oh, receive him in your circle!
+Thee, Atreus, I revere, and thee, Thyestes
+Here all are free from enmity and hate.--
+Show me my father, whom I only once
+In life beheld.--Art thou my father, thou,
+My mother leading thus familiarly?
+Dares Clytemnestra reach her hand to thee
+Then may Orestes also draw near her,
+And say, Behold thy son!--My ancestors,
+Behold your son, and bid him welcome here.
+Among the sons of ancient Tantalus,
+A kind salute on earth was murder's watchword,
+And all their joys commence beyond the grave.
+Ye welcome me! Ye bid me join your circle!
+Oh, lead me to my honor'd ancestor!
+Where is our aged sire? Let me behold
+The dear, the venerable head of him
+Who with the immortal gods in council sat.
+Ye seem to shudder and to turn away!
+What may this mean? Suffers the godlike man?
+Alas! the mighty gods, with ruthless hate,
+To his heroic breast, with brazen chains,
+Have cruel pangs indissolubly bound.
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+ORESTES, IPHIGENIA, PYLADES
+
+
+ORESTES
+
+How! Are ye come already here below?
+Welcome, my sister! Still Electra fails;
+O that some kindly god, with gentle arrow,
+Her too, full speedily, would downward send!
+Thee, hapless friend, I must compassionate!
+Come with me! Come! To Pluto's gloomy throne,
+There to salute our hosts like stranger guests.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Celestial pair, who from the realms above
+By night and day shed down the beauteous light
+To cheer mankind, but who may not illume
+Departed spirits, save a mortal pair!
+A brother's and a sister's anguish pity!
+For thou, Diana, lov'st thy gentle brother
+Beyond what earth and heaven can offer thee;
+And dost, with quiet yearning, ever turn
+Thy virgin face to his eternal light.
+
+[Illustration: MEETING OF ORESTES AND PYLADES]
+
+Let not my only brother, found so late,
+Rave in the darkness of insanity!
+And is thy will, when 'thou didst here conceal me,
+At length fulfill'd,--wouldst thou to me through him
+To him through me, thy gracious aid extend,--
+Oh, free him from the fetters of this curse,
+Lest vainly pass the precious hours of safety.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Dost thou not know us, and this sacred grove,
+And this blest light, which shines not on the dead?
+Dost thou not feel thy sister and thy friend,
+Who hold thee living in their firm embrace?
+Us firmly grasp; we are not empty shades.
+Mark well my words! Collect thy scatter'd thoughts!
+Attend! Each moment is of priceless worth,
+And our return hangs on a slender thread,
+Which, as it seems, some gracious fate doth spin.
+
+ORESTES (_to_ IPHIGENIA)
+
+My sister, let me for the first time taste,
+With open hearts pure joy within thine arms!
+Ye gods, who charge the heavy clouds with dread,
+And sternly gracious send the long-sought rain
+With thunder and the rush of mighty winds,
+A horrid deluge on the trembling earth;
+Yet dissipate at length man's dread suspense,
+Exchanging timid wonder's anxious gaze
+For grateful looks and joyous songs of praise,
+When in each sparkling drop which gems the leaves,
+Apollo, thousand-fold, reflects his beam,
+And Iris colors with a magic hand
+The dusty texture of the parting clouds;
+Oh, let me also in my sister's arms,
+And on the bosom of my friend, enjoy
+With grateful thanks the bliss ye now bestow;
+My heart assures me that your curses cease.
+The dread Eumenides at length retire,
+The brazen gates of Tartarus I hear
+Behind them closing with a thunderous clang.
+A quick'ning odor from the earth ascends,
+Inviting me to chase, upon its plains,
+The joys of life and deeds of high emprize.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Lose not the moments which are limited!
+The favoring gale, which swells our parting sail,
+Must to Olympus waft our perfect joy.
+Quick counsel and resolve the time demands.
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+SCENE I
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+When the Powers on high decree
+For a feeble child of earth
+Dire perplexity and woe,
+And his spirit doom to pass
+With tumult wild from joy to grief,
+And back again from grief to joy,
+In fearful alternation;
+They in mercy then provide,
+In the precincts of his home,
+Or upon the distant shore,
+That to him may never fail
+Ready help in hours of need,
+A tranquil, faithful friend.
+Oh, bless, ye heavenly powers, our Pylades,
+And whatsoever he may undertake!
+He is in fight the vigorous arm of youth,
+And his the thoughtful eye of age in counsel;
+For tranquil is his soul; he guardeth there
+Of calm a sacred and exhaustless dower,
+And from its depths, in rich supply, outpours
+Comfort and counsel for the sore distressed.
+He tore me from my brother, upon whom,
+With fond amaze, I gaz'd and gaz'd again;
+I could not realize my happiness,
+Nor loose him from my arms, and heeded not
+The danger's near approach that threatens us.
+To execute their project of escape,
+They hasten to the sea, where in a bay
+Their comrades in the vessel lie conceal'd
+Waiting a signal. Me they have supplied
+With artful answers, should the monarch send
+To urge the sacrifice. Alas! I see
+I must consent to follow like a child,
+I have not learn'd deception, nor the art
+To gain with crafty wiles my purposes.
+Detested falsehood! it doth not relieve
+The breast like words of truth: it comforts not,
+But is a torment in the forger's heart,
+And, like an arrow which a god directs,
+Flies back and wounds the archer. Through my heart
+One fear doth chase another; perhaps with rage,
+Again on the unconsecrated shore,
+The Furies' grisly band my brother seize.
+Perchance they are surpris'd! Methinks, I hear
+The tread of armed men. A messenger
+Is coming from the king, with hasty steps.
+How throbs my heart, how troubled is my soul,
+Now that I gaze upon the face of one,
+Whom with a word untrue I must encounter!
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+IPHIGENIA, ARKAS
+
+
+ARKAS
+
+Priestess, with speed conclude the sacrifice!
+Impatiently the king and people wait.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I had perform'd my duty and thy will,
+Had not an unforeseen impediment
+The execution of my purpose thwarted.
+
+ARKAS
+
+What is it that obstructs the king's commands?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Chance, which from mortals will not brook control.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Possess me with the reason, that with speed
+I may inform the king, who hath decreed
+The death of both.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+            The gods have not decreed it.
+The elder of these men doth bear the guilt
+Of kindred murder; on his steps attend
+The dread Erinnys. In the inner fane
+They seized upon their prey, polluting thus
+The holy sanctuary. I hasten now,
+Together with my virgin-train, to bathe
+The goddess' image in the sea, and there
+With solemn rites its purity restore.
+Let none presume our silent march to follow!
+
+ARKAS
+
+This hindrance to the monarch I'll announce
+Commence not thou the rite till he permit.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The priestess interferes alone in this.
+
+ARKAS
+
+An incident so strange the king should know.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Here, nor his counsel nor command avails.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Oft are the great consulted out of form.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Do not insist on what I must refuse.
+
+ARKAS
+
+A needful and a just demand refuse not.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I yield, if thou delay not.
+
+ARKAS
+
+                               I with speed
+Will bear these tidings to the camp, and soon
+Acquaint thee, priestess, with the king's reply.
+There is a message I would gladly bear him;
+'Twould quickly banish all perplexity
+Thou didst not heed thy faithful friend's advice.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I willingly have done whate'er I could.
+
+ARKAS
+
+E'en now 'tis not too late to change thy purpose.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+To do so is, alas, beyond our power.
+
+ARKAS
+
+What thou wouldst shun, thou deem'st impossible.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy wish doth make thee deem it possible.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Wilt thou so calmly venture everything?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+My fate I have committed to the gods.
+
+ARKAS
+
+The gods are wont to save by human means.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+By their appointment everything is done.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Believe me, all doth now depend on thee.
+The irritated temper of the king
+Alone condemns these men to bitter death.
+The soldiers from the cruel sacrifice
+And bloody service long have been disused;
+Nay, many, whom their adverse fortunes cast
+In foreign regions, there themselves have felt
+How godlike to the exil'd wanderer
+The friendly countenance of man appears.
+Do not deprive us of thy gentle aid!
+With ease thou canst thy sacred task fulfil;
+For nowhere doth benignity, which comes
+In human form from heaven, so quickly gain
+An empire o'er the heart, as where a race,
+Gloomy and savage, full of life and power,
+Without external guidance, and oppress'd
+With vague forebodings, bear life's heavy load.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Shake not my spirit, which thou canst not bend
+According to thy will.
+
+ARKAS
+
+                    While there is time
+Nor labor nor persuasion shall be spar'd.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy labor but occasions pain to me;
+Both are in vain; therefore, I pray, depart.
+
+ARKAS
+
+I summon pain to aid me, 'tis a friend
+Who counsels wisely.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                  Though it shakes my soul,
+It doth not banish thence my strong repugnance.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Can then a gentle soul repugnance feel
+For benefits bestow'd by one so noble?
+
+[Illustration: IPHIGENIA From the Painting by Max Nonnenbruch]
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Yes, when the donor, for those benefits,
+Instead of gratitude, demands myself.
+
+ARKAS
+
+Who no affection feels doth never want
+Excuses. To the king I will relate
+What hath befallen. O that in thy soul
+Thou wouldst revolve his noble conduct to thee
+Since thy arrival to the present day!
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+These words at an unseasonable hour
+Produce a strong revulsion in my breast;
+I am alarm'd!--For as the rushing tide
+In rapid currents eddies o'er the rocks
+Which lie among the sand upon the shore;
+E'en so a stream of joy o'erwhelm'd my soul.
+I grasp'd what had appear'd impossible.
+It was as though another gentle cloud
+Around me lay, to raise me from the earth,
+And rock my spirit in the same sweet sleep
+Which the kind goddess shed around my brow,
+What time her circling arm from danger snatched me.
+My brother forcibly engross'd my heart;
+I listen'd only to his friend's advice;
+My soul rush'd eagerly to rescue them,
+And as the mariner with joy surveys
+The less'ning breakers of a desert isle,
+So Tauris lay behind me. But the voice
+Of faithful Arkas wakes me from my dream,
+Reminding me that those whom I forsake
+Are also men. Deceit doth now become
+Doubly detested. O my soul, be still!
+Beginn'st thou now to tremble and to doubt?
+Thy lonely shelter on the firm-set earth
+Must thou abandon? and, embark'd once more,
+At random drift upon tumultuous waves,
+A stranger to thyself and to the world?
+
+
+SCENE IV
+
+IPHIGENIA, PYLADES
+
+
+PYLADES
+
+Where is she? that my words with speed may tell
+The joyful tidings of our near escape!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oppress'd with gloomy care, I much require
+The certain comfort thou dost promise me.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Thy brother is restor'd! The rocky paths
+Of this unconsecrated shore we trod
+In friendly converse, while behind us lay,
+Unmark'd by us, the consecrated grove;
+And ever with increasing glory shone
+The fire of youth around his noble brow.
+Courage and hope his glowing eye inspir'd;
+And his exultant heart resigned itself
+To the delight, the joy, of rescuing
+Thee, his deliverer, also me, his friend.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The gods shower blessings on thee, Pylades!
+And from those lips which breathe such welcome news
+Be the sad note of anguish never heard!
+
+PYLADES
+
+I bring yet more,--for Fortune, like a prince,
+Comes not alone, but well accompanied.
+Our friends and comrades we have also found.
+Within a bay they had conceal'd the ship,
+And mournful sat expectant. They beheld
+Thy brother, and a joyous shout uprais'd,
+Imploring him to haste the parting hour.
+Each hand impatient long'd to grasp the oar,
+While from the shore a gently murmuring breeze,
+Perceiv'd by all, unfurl'd its wing auspicious.
+Let us then hasten; guide me to the fane,
+That I may tread the sanctuary, and win
+With sacred awe the goal of our desires.
+I can unaided on my shoulder bear
+The goddess' image: how I long to feel
+The precious burden!
+
+(_While speaking the last words, he approaches the
+Temple, without perceiving that he is not followed
+by_ IPHIGENIA: _at length he turns around_.)
+
+                   Why thus lingering stand?
+Why art thou silent? wherefore thus confus'd?
+Doth some new obstacle oppose our bliss?
+Inform me, hast thou to the king announc'd
+The prudent message we agreed upon?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I have, dear Pylades; yet wilt thou chide.
+Thy very aspect is a mute reproach.
+The royal messenger arriv'd, and I,
+According to thy counsel, fram'd my speech.
+He seem'd surpris'd, and urgently besought,
+That to the monarch I should first announce
+The rite unusual, and attend his will.
+I now await the messenger's return.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Danger again doth hover o'er our heads!
+Alas! Why hast thou failed to shroud thyself
+Within the veil of sacerdotal rites?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I never have employ'd them as a veil.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Pure soul! thy scruples will destroy alike
+Thyself and us. Why did I not forsee
+Such an emergency, and tutor thee
+This counsel also wisely to elude?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Chide only me, for mine alone the blame.
+Yet other answer could I not return
+To him, who strongly and with reason urged
+What my own heart acknowledg'd to be right.
+
+PYLADES
+
+The danger thickens; but let us be firm.
+Nor with incautious haste betray ourselves;
+Calmly await the messenger's return,
+And then stand fast, whatever his reply:
+For the appointment of such sacred rites
+Doth to the priestess, not the king, belong.
+Should he demand the stranger to behold,
+Who is by madness heavily oppress'd,
+Evasively pretend, that in the fane,
+Well guarded, thou retainest him and me.
+Thus you secure us time to fly with speed,
+Bearing the sacred treasure from this race,
+Unworthy its possession. Phoebus sends
+Auspicious omens, and fulfils his word,
+Ere we the first conditions have perform'd.
+Free is Orestes, from the curse absolv'd!
+Oh, with the freed one, to the rocky isle
+Where dwells the god, waft us, propitious gales.
+Thence to Mycene, that she may revive;
+That from the ashes of the extinguish'd hearth,
+The household gods may joyously arise,
+And beauteous fire illumine their abode!
+Thy hand from golden censers first shall strew
+The fragrant incense. O'er that threshold thou
+Shalt life and blessing once again dispense,
+The curse atone, and all thy kindred grace
+With the fresh bloom of renovated life.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+As doth the flower revolve to meet the sun,
+Once more my spirit to sweet comfort turns,
+Struck by thy words' invigorating ray.
+How dear the counsel of a present friend,
+Lacking whose godlike power, the lonely one
+In silence droops! for, lock'd within his breast,
+Slowly are ripen'd purpose and resolve,
+Which friendship's genial warmth had soon matur'd.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Farewell! I haste to re-assure our friends,
+Who anxiously await us: then with speed
+I will return, and, hid within the brake,
+Attend thy signal.--Wherefore, all at once,
+Doth anxious thought o'ercloud thy brow serene?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Forgive me! As light clouds athwart the sun,
+So cares and fears float darkling o'er my soul.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Oh, banish fear! With danger it hath form'd
+A close alliance,--they are constant friends.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+It is an honest scruple, which forbids
+That I should cunningly deceive the king,
+And plunder him who was my second father.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Him thou dost fly, who would have slain thy brother.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+To me, at least, he hath been ever kind.
+
+PYLADES
+
+What Fate commands is not ingratitude.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+Alas! it still remains ingratitude;
+Necessity alone can justify it.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Thee, before gods and men, it justifies.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+But my own heart is still unsatisfied.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Scruples too rigid are a cloak for pride.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I cannot argue, I can only feel.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Conscious of right, thou shouldst respect thyself.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Then only doth the heart know perfect ease.
+When not a stain pollutes it.
+
+PYLADES
+
+                              In this fane
+Pure hast thou kept thy heart. Life teaches us
+To be less strict with others and ourselves;
+Thou'lt learn the lesson too. So wonderful
+Is human nature, and its varied ties
+Are so involv'd and complicate, that none
+May hope to keep his inmost spirit pure,
+And walk without perplexity through life.
+Nor are we call'd upon to judge ourselves;
+With circumspection to pursue his path,
+Is the immediate duty of a man;
+For seldom can he rightly estimate,
+Of his past conduct or his present deeds.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Almost thou dost persuade me to consent.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Needs there persuasion when no choice is granted?
+To save thyself, thy brother, and a friend,
+One path presents itself, and canst thou ask
+If we shall follow it?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                   Still let me pause,
+For such injustice thou couldst not thyself
+Calmly return for benefits receiv'd.
+
+PYLADES
+
+If we should perish, bitter self-reproach,
+Forerunner of despair, will be thy portion.
+It seems thou art not used to suffer much,
+when, to escape so great calamity,
+Thou canst refuse to utter one false word.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oh, that I bore within a manly heart!
+Which, when it hath conceiv'd a bold resolve,
+'Gainst every other voice doth close itself.
+
+PYLADES
+
+In vain thou dost refuse; with iron hand
+Necessity commands; her stern decree
+Is law supreme, to which the gods themselves
+Must yield submission. In dread silence rules
+The uncounsell'd sister of eternal fate.
+What she appoints thee to endure,--endure;
+What to perform,--perform. The rest thou knowest.
+Ere long I will return, and then receive
+The seal of safety from thy sacred hand.
+
+
+SCENE V
+
+IPHIGENIA (_alone_)
+
+I must obey him, for I see my friends
+Beset with peril. Yet my own sad fate
+Doth with increasing anguish move my heart.
+May I no longer feed the silent hope
+Which in my solitude I fondly cherish'd?
+Shall the dire curse eternally endure?
+And shall our fated race ne'er rise again
+With blessings crown'd?--All mortal things decay--
+The noblest powers, the purest joys of life
+At length subside: then wherefore not the curse?
+And have I vainly hoped that, guarded here,
+Secluded from the fortunes of my race,
+I, with pure heart and hands, some future day
+Might cleanse the deep defilement of our house?
+Scarce was my brother in my circling arms
+From raging madness suddenly restor'd,
+Scarce had the ship, long pray'd for, near'd the strand
+Once more to waft me to my native shores,
+When unrelenting Fate, with iron hand,
+A double crime enjoins; commanding me
+To steal the image, sacred and rever'd,
+Confided to my care, and him deceive
+To whom I owe my life and destiny.
+Let not abhorrence spring within my heart!
+Nor the old Titan's hate, toward you, ye gods
+Infix its vulture talons in my breast!
+Save me and save your image in my soul!
+
+An ancient song comes back upon mine ear--
+I had forgotten it, and willingly--
+The Parcae's song, which horribly they sang,
+What time, hurl'd headlong from his golden seat,
+Fell Tantalus. They with their noble friend
+Keen anguish suffer'd; savage was their breast
+And horrible their song. In days gone by,
+When we were children, oft our ancient nurse
+Would sing it to us, and I mark'd it well.
+
+  Oh, fear the immortals,
+  Ye children of men!
+  Eternal dominion
+  They hold in their hands,
+  And o'er their wide empire
+  Wield absolute sway.
+  Whom they have exalted
+  Let him fear them most!
+  Around golden tables,
+  On cliffs and clouds resting
+  The seats are prepar'd.
+
+  If contest ariseth,
+  The guests are hurl'd headlong,
+  Disgrac'd and dishonor'd,
+  To gloomy abysses,
+  And, fetter'd in darkness,
+  Await the vain longing
+  A juster decree.
+
+  But in feasts everlasting,
+  Around the gold tables
+  Still dwell the immortals.
+  From mountain to mountain
+  They stride; while ascending
+  From fathomless chasms
+  The breath of the Titans,
+  Half-stifled with anguish,
+  Like volumes of incense
+  Fumes up to the skies.
+
+  From races ill-fated,
+  Their-aspect joy-bringing,
+  Oft turn the celestials,
+  And shun in the children
+  To gaze on the features
+  Once lov'd and still speaking
+  Of their mighty sire.
+
+  So chanted the Parcae;
+  The banish'd one hearkens
+  The song, the hoar captive
+  Immur'd in his dungeon,
+  His children's doom ponders,
+  And boweth his head.
+
+
+ACT V
+
+SCENE I
+
+THOAS, ARKAS
+
+
+ARKAS
+
+I own I am perplex'd and scarcely know
+'Gainst whom to point the shaft of my suspicion,
+Whether the priestess aids the captives' flight,
+Or they themselves clandestinely contrive it.
+'Tis rumor'd that the ship which brought them here
+Is lurking somewhere in a bay conceal'd.
+This stranger's madness, these new lustral rites,
+The specious pretext for delay, excite
+Mistrust, and call aloud for vigilance.
+
+THOAS
+
+Summon the priestess to attend me here!
+Then go with speed, and strictly search the shore,
+From yonder headland to Diana's grove:
+Forbear to violate its sacred depths,
+A watchful ambush set, attack and seize,
+According to your wont, whome'er ye find.
+[ARKAS _retires_.]
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+THOAS (_alone_)
+
+Fierce anger rages in my riven breast,
+First against her, whom I esteemed so pure;
+Then 'gainst myself, whose foolish lenity
+Hath fashion'd her for treason. Man is soon
+Inur'd to slavery, and quickly learns
+Submission, when of freedom quite depriv'd.
+If she had fallen in the savage hands
+Of my rude sires, and had their holy rage
+Forborne to slay her, grateful for her life,
+She would have recogniz'd her destiny,
+Have shed before the shrine the stranger's blood,
+And duty nam'd what was necessity.
+
+Now my forbearance in her breast allures
+Audacious wishes. Vainly I had hoped
+To bind her to me; rather she contrives
+To shape an independent destiny.
+She won my heart through flattery; and now
+That I oppose her, seeks to gain her ends
+By fraud and cunning, and my kindness deems
+A worthless and prescriptive property.
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Me hast thou summon'd? wherefore art thou here?
+
+THOAS
+
+Wherefore delay the sacrifice? inform me.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+I have acquainted Arkas with the reasons.
+
+THOAS
+
+From thee I wish to hear them more at large.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+The goddess for reflection grants thee time.
+
+THOAS
+
+To thee this time seems also opportune.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+If to this cruel deed thy heart is steel'd,
+Thou shouldst not come! A king who meditates
+A deed inhuman, may find slaves enow,
+Willing for hire to bear one-half the curse,
+And leave the monarch's presence undefil'd.
+Enrapt in gloomy clouds he forges death,
+Flaming destruction then his ministers
+Hurl down upon his wretched victim's head,
+While he abideth high above the storm,
+Calm and untroubled, an impassive god.
+
+THOAS
+
+A wild song, priestess, issued from thy lips.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+No priestess, king! but Agamemnon's daughter;
+While yet unknown, thou didst respect my words
+A princess now,--and think'st thou to command me?
+From youth I have been tutor'd to obey,
+My parents first and then the deity;
+And thus obeying, ever hath my soul
+Known sweetest freedom. But nor then nor now
+Have I been taught compliance with the voice
+And savage mandates of a man.
+
+THOAS
+
+                         Not I,
+An ancient law doth thy obedience claim.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Our passions eagerly catch hold of laws
+Which they can wield as weapons. But to me
+Another law, one far more ancient, speaks
+And doth command me to withstand thee, king!
+That law declaring sacred every stranger.
+
+THOAS
+
+These men, methinks, lie very near thy heart,
+When sympathy with them can lead thee thus
+To violate discretion's primal law,
+That those in power should never be provok'd.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Speaking or silent, thou canst always know
+What is, and ever must be, in my heart.
+Doth not remembrance of a common doom,
+To soft compassion melt the hardest heart?
+How much more mine! in them I see myself.
+I trembling kneel'd before the altar once,
+And solemnly the shade of early death
+Environ'd me. Aloft the knife was rais'd
+To pierce my bosom, throbbing with warm life;
+A dizzy horror overwhelm'd my soul;
+My eyes grew dim; I found myself in safety.
+Are we not bound to render the distress'd
+The gracious kindness from the gods receiv'd?
+Thou know'st we are, and yet wilt thou compel me?
+
+THOAS
+
+Obey thine office, priestess, not the king.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Cease! nor thus seek to cloak the savage force
+Which triumphs o'er a woman's feebleness.
+Though woman, I am born as free as man.
+Did Agamemnon's son before thee stand,
+And thou requiredst what became him not,
+His arm and trusty weapon would defend
+His bosom's freedom. I have only words;
+But it becomes a noble-minded man
+To treat with due respect the words of woman.
+
+THOAS
+
+I more respect them than a brother's sword.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Uncertain ever is the chance of arms,
+No prudent warrior doth despise his foe;
+Nor yet defenceless 'gainst severity
+Hath nature left the weak; she gives him craft
+And, willy, cunning; artful he delays,
+Evades, eludes, and finally escapes.
+Such arms are justified by violence.
+
+THOAS
+
+But circumspection countervails deceit.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Which a pure spirit doth abhor to use.
+
+THOAS
+
+Do not incautiously condemn thyself.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Oh, couldst thou see the struggle of my soul,
+Courageously to ward the first attack
+Of an unhappy doom, which threatens me!
+Do I then stand before thee weaponless?
+Prayer, lovely prayer, fair branch in woman's hand,
+More potent far than instruments of war,
+Thou dost thrust back. What now remains for me
+Wherewith my inborn freedom to defend?
+Must I implore a miracle from heaven?
+Is there no power within my spirit's depths?
+
+THOAS
+
+Extravagant thy interest in the fate
+Of these two strangers. Tell me who they are
+For whom thy heart is thus so deeply mov'd.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+They are--they seem at least--I think them Greeks.
+
+THOAS
+
+Thy countrymen; no doubt they have renew'd
+The pleasing picture of return.
+
+IPHIGENIA (_after a pause_)
+
+ Doth man
+Lay undisputed claim to noble deeds?
+Doth he alone to his heroic breast
+Clasp the impossible? What call we great?
+What deeds, though oft narrated, still uplift
+with shuddering horror the narrator's soul,
+But those which, with improbable success,
+The valiant have attempted? Shall the man
+Who all alone steals on his foes by night,
+And raging like an unexpected fire,
+Destroys the slumbering host, and press'd at length
+By rous'd opponents on his foeman's steeds,
+Retreats with booty--be alone extoll'd?
+Or he who, scorning safety, boldly roams
+Through woods and dreary wilds, to scour the land
+Of thieves and robbers? Is naught left for us?
+Must gentle woman quite forego her nature,
+Force against force employ, like Amazons
+Usurp the sword from man, and bloodily
+Revenge oppression? In my heart I feel
+The stirrings of a noble enterprize;
+But if I fail--severe reproach, alas!
+And bitter misery will be my doom.
+Thus on my knees I supplicate the gods!
+Oh, are ye truthful, as men say ye are,
+Now prove it by your countenance and aid;
+Honor the truth in me! Attend, O king
+A secret plot deceitfully is laid;
+Touching the captives thou dost ask in vain;
+They have departed hence and seek their friends,
+Who, with the ship, await them on the shore.
+The eldest,--whom dire madness lately seiz'd,
+And hath abandon'd now,--he is Orestes,
+My brother, and the other Pylades,
+His early friend and faithful confidant.
+From Delphi, Phoebus sent them to this shore
+With a divine command to steal away
+The image of Diana, and to him
+Bear back the sister thither, and for this
+He promised to the blood-stained matricide,
+The Fury-haunted son, deliverance.
+I have surrender'd now into thy hands
+The remnants of the house of Tantalus.
+Destroy us--if thou canst.
+
+THOAS
+
+                     And dost thou think
+That the uncultured Scythian will attend
+The voice of truth and of humanity
+Which Atreus, the Greek, heard not?
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                                'Tis heard
+By every one, born 'neath whatever clime,
+Within whose bosom flows the stream of life,
+Pure and unhinder'd.--What thy thought? O king,
+What silent purpose broods in thy deep soul?
+Is it destruction? Let me perish first!
+For now, deliv'rance hopeless, I perceive
+The dreadful peril into which I have
+With rash precipitancy plung'd my friends.
+Alas! I soon shall see them bound before me!
+How to my brother shall I say farewell?
+I, the unhappy author of his death.
+Ne'er can I gaze again in his dear eyes!
+
+THOAS
+
+The traitors have contrived a cunning web,
+And cast it round thee, who, secluded long,
+Giv'st willing credence to thine own desires.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+No, no! I'd pledge my life these men are true.
+And shouldst thou find them otherwise, O king,
+Then let them perish both, and cast me forth,
+That on some rock-girt island's dreary shore
+I may atone my folly. Are they true,
+And is this man indeed my dear Orestes,
+My brother, long implor'd,--release us both,
+And o'er us stretch the kind protecting arm
+Which long hath shelter'd me. My noble sire
+Fell through his consort's guilt,--she by her son;
+On him alone the hope of Atreus' race
+Doth now repose. Oh, with pure heart, pure hand,
+Let me depart to purify our house.
+Yes, thou wilt keep thy promise; thou didst swear,
+That were a safe return provided me,
+I should be free to go. The hour is come.
+A king doth never grant like common men,
+Merely to gain a respite from petition;
+Nor promise what he hopes will ne'er be claim'd.
+Then first he feels his dignity supreme
+When he can make the long-expecting happy.
+
+THOAS
+
+As fire opposes water, and doth seek
+With hissing rage to overcome its foe,
+So doth my anger strive against thy words.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Let mercy, like the consecrated flame
+Of silent sacrifice, encircled round
+With songs of gratitude, and joy, and praise,
+Above the tumult gently rise to heaven.
+
+THOAS
+
+How often hath this voice assuag'd my soul!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Extend thy hand to me in sign of peace.
+
+THOAS
+
+Large thy demand within so short a time.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Beneficence doth no reflection need.
+
+THOAS
+
+'Tis needed oft, for evil springs from good.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+'Tis doubt which good doth oft to evil turn.
+Consider not; act as thy feelings prompt thee.
+
+
+SCENE IV
+
+ORESTES (_armed_), IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+ORESTES (_addressing his followers_)
+
+Redouble your exertions! hold them back!
+Few moments will suffice; maintain your ground,
+And keep a passage open to the ship
+For me and for my sister.
+
+ (_To_ IPHIGENIA, _without perceiving_ THOAS.)
+
+                          Come with speed!
+We are betray'd,--brief time remains for flight.
+
+ (_He perceives the king_.)
+
+THOAS (_laying his hand on his sword_)
+
+None in my presence with impunity
+His naked weapon wears.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+                     Do not profane
+Diana's sanctuary with rage and blood.
+Command your people to forbear awhile,
+And listen to the priestess, to the sister.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Say, who is he that threatens us?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+                               In him
+Revere the king, who was my second father.
+Forgive me, brother, that my childlike heart
+Hath plac'd our fate thus wholly in his hands.
+I have betray'd your meditated flight,
+And thus from treachery redeem'd my soul.
+
+ORESTES
+
+Will he permit our peaceable return?
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Thy gleaming sword forbids me to reply.
+
+ORESTES (_sheathing his sword_)
+
+Then speak! thou seest I listen to thy words.
+
+
+SCENE V
+
+ORESTES, IPHIGENIA, THOAS
+
+
+_Enter_ PYLADES, _soon after him_ ARKAS _both with drawn
+swords_.
+
+PYLADES
+
+Do not delay! our friends are putting forth
+Their final strength, and, yielding step by step,
+Are slowly driven backward to the sea.--
+A conference of princes find I here?
+Is this the sacred person of the king?
+
+ARKAS
+
+Calmly, as doth become thee, thou dost stand,
+O king, surrounded by thine enemies.
+Soon their temerity shall be chastiz'd;
+Their yielding followers fly,--their ship is ours,
+Speak but the word and it is wrapt in flames.
+
+THOAS
+
+Go, and command my people to forbear!
+Let none annoy the foe while we confer.
+[ARKAS _retires_.]
+
+ORESTES
+
+I willingly consent. Go, Pylades!
+Collect the remnant of our friends, and wait
+The appointed issue of our enterprize.
+[PYLADES _retires_.]
+
+
+SCENE VI
+
+IPHIGENIA, THOAS, ORESTES
+
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Relieve my cares ere ye begin to speak.
+I fear contention, if thou wilt not hear
+The voice of equity, O king,--if thou
+Wilt not, my brother, curb thy headstrong youth.
+
+THOAS
+
+I, as becomes the elder, check my rage.
+Now answer me: how dost thou prove thyself
+The priestess' brother, Agamemnon's son?
+
+ORESTES
+
+Behold the sword with which the hero slew
+The valiant Trojans. From his murderer
+I took the weapon, and implor'd the Gods
+To grant me Agamemnon's mighty arm,
+Success, and valor, with a death more noble.
+Select one of the leaders of thy host,
+And place the best as my opponent here.
+Where'er on earth the sons of heroes dwell,
+This boon is to the stranger ne'er refus'd.
+
+THOAS
+
+This privilege hath ancient custom here
+To strangers ne'er accorded.
+
+ORESTES
+
+                       Then from us
+Commence the novel custom! A whole race
+In imitation soon will consecrate
+Its monarch's noble action into law.
+Nor let me only for our liberty,--
+Let me, a stranger, for all strangers fight.
+If I should fall, my doom be also theirs;
+But if kind fortune crown me with success,
+Let none e'er tread this shore, and fail to meet
+The beaming eye of sympathy and love,
+Or unconsoled depart!
+
+THOAS
+
+                  Thou dost not seem
+Unworthy of thy boasted ancestry.
+Great is the number of the valiant men
+Who wait upon me; but I will myself,
+Although advanc'd in years, oppose the foe,
+And am prepar'd to try the chance of arms.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+No, no! such bloody proofs are not requir'd.
+Unhand thy weapon, king! my lot consider;
+Rash combat oft immortalizes man;
+If he should fall, he is renown'd in song;
+But after ages reckon not the tears
+Which ceaseless the forsaken woman sheds;
+And poets tell not of the thousand nights
+Consum'd in weeping, and the dreary days,
+Wherein her anguish'd soul, a prey to grief,
+Doth vainly yearn to call her lov'd one back.
+Fear warn'd me to beware lest robbers' wiles
+Might lure me from this sanctuary, and then
+Betray me into bondage. Anxiously
+I question'd them, each circumstance explor'd,
+Demanded proofs, now is my heart assur'd.
+See here, the mark on his right hand impress'd
+As of three stars, which on his natal day
+Were by the priest declar'd to indicate
+Some dreadful deed therewith to be perform'd.
+And then this scar, which doth his eyebrow cleave,
+Redoubles my conviction. When a child,
+Electra, rash and inconsiderate,
+Such was her nature, loos'd him from her arms,
+He fell against a tripos. Oh, 'tis he!--
+Shall I adduce the likeness to his sire,
+Or the deep rapture of my inmost heart,
+In further token of assurance, king?
+
+THOAS
+
+E'en though thy words had banish'd every doubt,
+And I had curb'd the anger in my breast,
+Still must our arms decide. I see no peace.
+Their purpose, as thou didst thyself confess,
+Was to deprive me of Diana's image.
+And think ye I will look contented on?
+The Greeks are wont to cast a longing eye
+Upon the treasures of barbarians,
+A golden fleece, good steeds, or daughters fair;
+But force and guile not always have avail'd
+To lead them, with their booty, safely home.
+
+ORESTES
+
+The image shall not be a cause of strife!
+We now perceive the error which the god,
+Our journey here commanding, like a veil,
+Threw o'er our minds. His counsel I implor'd,
+To free me from the Furies' grisly band.
+He answer'd, "Back to Greece the sister bring,
+Who in the sanctuary on Tauris' shore
+Unwillingly abides; so ends the curse!"
+To Phoebus' sister we applied the words,
+And he referr'd to thee! The bonds severe,
+Which held thee from us, holy one, are rent,
+And thou art ours once more. At thy blest touch,
+I felt myself restor'd. Within thine arms,
+Madness once more around me coil'd its folds,
+Crushing the marrow in my frame, and then
+Forever, like a serpent, fled to hell.
+Through thee, the daylight gladdens me anew,
+The counsel of the goddess now shines forth
+In all its beauty and beneficence.
+Like to a sacred image, unto which
+An oracle immutably hath bound
+A city's welfare, thee she bore away,
+Protectress of our house, and guarded here
+Within this holy stillness, to become
+A blessing to thy brother and thy race.
+Now when each passage to escape seems clos'd,
+And safety hopeless, thou dost give us all.
+O king, incline thine heart to thoughts of peace!
+Let her fulfil her mission, and complete
+The consecration of our father's house,
+Me to their purified abode restore,
+And place upon my brow the ancient crown!
+Requite the blessing which her presence brought thee,
+And let me now my nearer right enjoy!
+Cunning and force, the proudest boast of man,
+Fade in the lustre of her perfect truth;
+ Nor unrequited will a noble mind
+Leave confidence, so childlike and so pure.
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+Think on thy promise; let thy heart be mov'd
+By what a true and honest tongue hath spoken!
+Look on us, king! an opportunity
+For such a noble deed not oft occurs.
+Refuse thou canst not,--give thy quick consent.
+
+THOAS
+
+Then go!
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+           Not so, my king! I cannot part
+Without thy blessing, or in anger from thee,
+Banish us not! the sacred right of guests
+Still let us claim: so not eternally
+Shall we be sever'd. Honor'd and belov'd
+As mine own father was, art thou by me;
+And this impression in my soul abides,
+Let but the least among thy people bring
+Back to mine ear the tones I heard from thee,
+Or should I on the humblest see thy garb,
+I will with joy receive him as a god,
+Prepare his couch myself, beside our hearth
+Invite him to a seat, and only ask
+Touching thy fate and thee. Oh, may the gods
+To thee the merited reward impart
+Of all thy kindness and benignity!
+Farewell! O turn thou not away, but give
+One kindly word of parting in return!
+So shall the wind more gently swell our sails,
+And from our eyes with soften'd anguish flow,
+The tears of separation. Fare thee well!
+And graciously extend to me thy hand,
+In pledge of ancient friendship.
+
+THOAS (_extending his hand_)
+
+Fare thee well!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+THE FAUST LEGEND FROM MARLOWE TO GOETHE
+
+By KUNO FRANCKE, PH.D., LL.D., LITT.D.
+
+Professor of the History of German Culture, Harvard University
+
+
+The Faust legend is a conglomerate of anonymous popular traditions,
+largely of medieval origin, which in the latter part of the sixteenth
+century came to be associated with an actual individual of the name of
+Faustus whose notorious career during the first four decades of the
+century, as a pseudo-scientific mountebank, juggler and magician can
+be traced through various parts of Germany. The Faust Book of 1587,
+the earliest collection of these tales, is of prevailingly theological
+character. It represents Faust as a sinner and reprobate, and it holds
+up his compact with Mephistopheles and his subsequent damnation as an
+example of human recklessness and as a warning to the faithful.
+
+From this Faust Book, that is from its English translation, which
+appeared in 1588, Marlowe took his tragedy of _Dr. Faustus_ (1589;
+published 1604). In Marlowe's drama Faust appears as a typical man of
+the Renaissance, as an explorer and adventurer, as a superman craving
+for extraordinary power, wealth, enjoyment, and worldly eminence. The
+finer emotions are hardly touched upon. Mephistopheles is the medieval
+devil, harsh and grim and fierce, bent on seduction, without any
+comprehension of human aspirations. Helen of Troy is a she-devil, and
+becomes the final means of Faust's destruction. Faust's career has
+hardly an element of true greatness. None of the many tricks,
+conjurings and miracles, which Faust performs with Mephistopheles'
+help, has any relation to the deeper meaning of life. From the compact
+on to the end hardly anything happens which brings Faust inwardly
+nearer either to heaven or hell. But there is a sturdiness of
+character and stirring intensity of action, with a happy admixture of
+buffoonery, through it all. And we feel something of the pathos and
+paradox of human passions in the fearful agony of Faust's final doom.
+
+The German popular Faust drama of the seventeenth century and its
+outgrowth the puppet plays, are a reflex both of Marlowe's tragedy and
+the Faust Book of 1587, although they contain a number of original
+scenes, notably the Council of the Devils at the beginning. Here
+again, the underlying sentiment is the abhorrence of human
+recklessness and extravagance. In some of these plays, the vanity of
+bold ambition is brought out with particular emphasis through the
+contrast between the daring and dissatisfied Faust and his farcical
+counterpart, the jolly and contented Casperle. In the last scene,
+while Faust in despair and contrition is waiting for the sound of the
+midnight bell which is to be the signal of his destruction, Casperle,
+as night watchman, patrols the streets of the town, calling out the
+hours and singing the traditional verses of admonition to quiet and
+orderly conduct.
+
+To the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, then, Faust appeared as a
+criminal who sins against the eternal laws of life, as a rebel against
+holiness who ruins his better self and finally earns the merited
+reward of his misdeeds. He could not appear thus to the eighteenth
+century. The eighteenth century is the age of Rationalism and of
+Romanticism. The eighteenth century glorifies human reason and human
+feeling. The right of man and the dignity of man are its principal
+watchwords. Such an age was bound to see in Faust a champion of
+freedom, nature, truth. Such an age was bound to see in Faust a symbol
+of human striving for completeness of life.
+
+It is Lessing who has given to the Faust legend this turn. His
+_Faust_, unfortunately consisting only of a few fragmentary sketches,
+is a defense of Rationalism. The most important of these fragments,
+preserved to us in copies by some friends of Lessing's, is the
+prelude, a council of devils. Satan is receiving reports from his
+subordinates as to what they have done to bring harm to the realm of
+God. The first devil who speaks has set the hut of some pious poor on
+fire; the second has buried a fleet of usurers in the waves. Both
+excite Satan's disgust. "For," he says, "to make the pious poor still
+poorer means only to chain him all the more firmly to God"; and the
+usurers, if, instead of being buried in the waves, they had been
+allowed to reach the goal of their voyage, would have wrought new evil
+on distant shores. Much more satisfied is Satan with the report of a
+third devil who has stolen the first kiss from a young innocent girl
+and thereby breathed the flame of desire into her veins; for he has
+worked evil in the world of the spirit and that means much more and is
+a much greater triumph for hell than to work evil in the world of
+bodies. But it is the fourth devil to whom Satan gives the prize. He
+has not done anything as yet. He has only a plan, but a plan which, if
+carried out, would put the deeds of all the other devils into the
+shade--the plan "to snatch from God his favorite." This favorite of
+God is Faust, "a solitary, brooding youth, renouncing all passion
+except the passion for truth, entirely living in truth, entirely
+absorbed in it." To snatch him from God--that would be a victory, over
+which the whole realm of night would rejoice. Satan is enchanted; the
+war against truth is his element. Yes, Faust must be seduced, he must
+be destroyed. And he shall be destroyed through his very aspiration.
+"Didst thou not say, he has desire for knowledge? That is enough for
+perdition!" His striving for truth is to lead him into darkness. Under
+such exclamations the devils break up, to set about their work of
+seduction; but, as they are breaking up, there is heard from above a
+divine voice: "Ye shall not conquer."
+
+It cannot be denied that Goethe's earliest Faust conception, the
+so-called _Ur-Faust_ of 1773 and '74, lacks the wide sweep of thought
+that characterizes these fragments of Lessing's drama. His Faust of
+the Storm and Stress period is essentially a Romanticist. He is a
+dreamer, craving for a sight of the divine, longing to fathom the
+inner working of nature, drunk with the mysteries of the universe. But
+he is also an unruly individualist, a reckless despiser of accepted
+morality; and it is hard to see how his relation with Gretchen, which
+forms by far the largest part of the _Ur-Faust_, can lead to anything
+but a tragic catastrophe. Only Goethe's second Faust conception, which
+sets in with the end of the nineties of the eighteenth century, opens
+up a clear view of the heights of life.
+
+Goethe was now in the full maturity of his powers, a man widely
+separated from the impetuous youth of the seventies whose Promethean
+emotions had burst forth with volcanic passion. He had meanwhile
+become a statesman and a philosopher. He had come to know in the court
+of Weimar a model of paternal government, conservative yet liberally
+inclined, and friendly to all higher culture. He had found in his
+truly spiritual relation to Frau von Stein a safe harbor for his
+tempestuous feelings. He had been brought face to face, during his
+sojourn in Italy, with the wonders of classic art. The study of
+Spinoza and his own scientific investigations had confirmed him in a
+thoroughly monistic view of the world and strengthened his belief in a
+universal law which makes evil itself an integral part of the good.
+The example of Schiller as well as his own practical experience had
+taught him that the untrammelled living out of personality must go
+hand in hand with incessant work for the common welfare of mankind.
+All this is reflected in the completed Part First of 1808; it finds
+its most comprehensive expression in Part Second, the bequest of the
+dying poet to posterity.
+
+Restless endeavor, incessant striving from lower spheres of life to
+higher ones, from the sensuous to the spiritual, from enjoyment to
+work, from creed to deed, from self to humanity--this is the moving
+thought of Goethe's completed _Faust_. The keynote is struck in the
+"Prologue in Heaven." Faust, so we hear, the daring idealist, the
+servant of God, is to be tempted by Mephisto, the despiser of reason,
+the materialistic scoffer. But we also hear, and we hear it from God's
+own lips, that the tempter will not succeed. God allows the devil free
+play, because he knows that he will frustrate his own ends. Faust will
+be led astray--"man errs while he strives"; but he will not abandon
+his higher aspirations; through aberration and sin he will find the
+true way toward which his inner nature instinctively guides him. He
+will not eat dust. Even in the compact with Mephisto the same
+ineradicable optimism asserts itself. Faust's wager with the devil is
+nothing but an act of temporary despair, and the very fact that he
+does not hope anything from it shows that he will win it. He knows
+that sensual enjoyment will never give him satisfaction; he knows
+that, as long as he gives himself up to self-gratification, there will
+never be a moment to which he would say: "Abide, thou art so fair!"
+From the outset we feel that by living up to the very terms of the
+compact, Faust will rise superior to it; that by rushing into the
+whirlpool of earthly experience and passion, his being will be
+heightened and expanded.
+
+And thus, everything in the whole drama, all its incidents and all its
+characters, become episodes in the rounding out of this grand,
+all-comprehensive personality. Gretchen and Helena, Wagner and
+Mephisto, Homunculus and Euphorion, the Emperor's court and the shades
+of the Greek past, the broodings of medieval mysticism and the
+practical tasks of modern industrialism, the enlightened despotism of
+the eighteenth century and the ideal democracy of the future--all this
+and a great deal more enters into Faust's being. He strides on from
+experience to experience, from task to task, expiating guilt by doing,
+losing himself and finding himself again. Blinded in old age by Dame
+Care, he feels a new light kindled within. Dying, he gazes into a far
+future. And even in the heavenly regions he goes on ever changing into
+new and higher and finer forms. It is this irrepressible spirit of
+striving which makes Goethe's _Faust_ the Bible of modern humanity.
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO FAUST
+
+BY CALVIN THOMAS, LL.D.
+
+Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Columbia University
+
+The central theme of Goethe's _Faust_ may be put in the form of a
+question thus: Shall a man hate life because it does not match his
+dreams, or shall he embrace it eagerly and try to make the best of it
+as a social being? Goethe's answer is at once scientific and
+religious, which partly explains its vital interest for the modern
+man. To be sure, his answer is given at the end of a long symbolic
+poem which contains much that is not exactly relevant to the main
+issue. It must never be forgotten that _Faust_ is not the orderly
+development of a thesis in ethics, but a long succession of
+imaginative pictures. Some of them may seem too recondite and
+fantastic to meet our present-day demand for reality, but on the whole
+the poem deals with vital issues of the human spirit. At the end of it
+Faust arrives at a noble view of life, and his last words undoubtedly
+tell how Goethe himself thought that a good man might wish to end his
+days--unsated with life to the final moment, and expiring in an
+ecstasy of altruistic vision.
+
+Goethe was about twenty years old when his imagination began to be
+haunted by the figure of the sixteenth century magician Doctor Faust.
+In 1772 or 1773 he commenced writing a play on the subject, little
+thinking of course that it would occupy him some sixty years. The old
+legend is a story of sin and damnation. Faust is represented as an
+eager student impelled by intellectual curiosity to the study of
+magic. From the point of view of the superstitious folk who created
+the legend this addiction to magic is itself sinful. But Faust is bad
+and reckless. By the aid of his black art he calls up a devil named
+(in the legend) Mephostophiles with whom he makes a contract of
+service. For twenty-four years Faust is to have all that he desires,
+and then his soul is to go to perdition. The contract is carried out.
+With the Devil as comrade and servant he lords it over time and space,
+feeds on the fat of the land, travels far and wide, and does all sorts
+of wonderful things. At the end of the stipulated time the Devil
+gets him.
+
+From the very beginning of his musings on the theme Goethe thought of
+Faust as a man better than his reputation; as a misunderstood
+truth-seeker who had dared the terrors with which the popular
+imagination invested hell, in order that he might exhaust the
+possibilities of this life. Aside from his desire of transcendental
+knowledge and wide experience, there was a third trait of the
+legendary Faust which could hardly seem to Goethe anything but
+creditable to human nature: his passion for antique beauty. According
+to the old story Faust at one time wishes to marry; but as marriage is
+a Christian ordinance and he has forsworn Christianity, the Devil
+gives him, in place of a lawful wife, a fantom counterfeit of Helena,
+the ancient Queen of Beauty. The lovely fantom becomes Faust's
+paramour and bears him a remarkable son called Justus Faustus.
+
+What wonder if the young Goethe, himself disappointed with
+book-learning, eager for life, and beset by vague yearnings for mystic
+insight into the nature of things, saw in Faust a symbol of his own
+experience? But as soon as he began to identify himself with his hero
+it was all up with Faust's utter damnableness: a young poet does not
+plan to send his own soul to perdition. At the same time, he could not
+very well imagine him as an out-and-out good man, since that would
+have been to turn the legend topsy-turvy. The league with the Devil,
+who would of course have to be conceived as in some sense or other an
+embodiment of evil, was the very heart of the old story.
+
+At first Goethe planned his drama on lines that had little to do with
+traditional ideas of good and bad, heaven and hell, God and Devil.
+Faust is introduced as a youngish professor who has studied everything
+and been teaching for some ten years, with the result that he feels
+his knowledge to be vanity and his life a dreary routine of hypocrisy.
+He resorts to magic in the hope of--what? It is important for the
+understanding of the poem in its initial stages to bear in mind that
+Faust is not at first a votary of the vulgar black art which consists
+in calling up bad spirits and doing reprehensible things by their
+assistance. Further on he shows that he is a master of that art too,
+but at first he is concerned with "natural magic," which some of the
+old mystics whom Goethe read conceived as the highest and divinest of
+sciences. The fundamental assumption of natural magic is that the
+universe as a whole and each component part of it is dominated by an
+indwelling spirit with whom it is possible for the magician to get
+into communication. If he succeeds he becomes "like" a spirit--freed
+from the trammels of the flesh, a partaker of divine knowledge and
+ecstatic happiness.
+
+Pursuing his wonderful vagaries by means of a magic book that has come
+into his possession, Faust first experiments with the "sign" of the
+Macrocosm, but makes no attempt to summon its presiding genius, that
+is, the World-spirit. He has a wonderful vision of the harmonious
+Cosmos, but it is "only a spectacle," whereas he craves food for his
+soul. So he turns to the sign of the Earth-spirit, whom he feels to be
+nearer to him. By an act of supreme daring he utters the formula which
+causes the Spirit to appear in fire--grand, awe-inspiring, terrible. A
+colloquy ensues at the end of which the Spirit rebuffs the
+presumptuous mortal with the words: "Thou art like the spirit whom
+thou comprehendest, not like me"--and disappears. The meaning is that
+Faust, who knows very little of the Earth, having always led the
+narrow life of a brooding scholar in one little corner of it, is not
+fit for intimacy with the mighty being who presides over the entire
+planet, with its rush and change, its life and death, its vast and
+ceaseless energy. He must have a wider experience. How shall he
+get it?
+
+It is a moot question whether Goethe at first conceived Mephistopheles
+as the Earth-spirit's envoy, sent for the express purpose of showing
+Faust about the world, or whether the Devil was thought of as coming
+of his own accord. Be that as it may, _Faust_ is an experience-drama,
+and the Devil's function is to provide the experience. And he is _a_
+devil, not _the_ Devil, conceived as the bitter and malignant enemy of
+God, but a subordinate spirit whose business it is, in the
+world-economy, to spur man to activity. This he does partly by cynical
+criticism and opposition, but more especially by holding out the lures
+of the sensual life. At first Mephistopheles was not thought of as
+working solely for a reward in the shape of souls captured for
+eternity, but as playing his part for the diabolical pleasure of so
+doing. In the course of time, however, Goethe invested him more and
+more with the costume and traits of the traditionary Devil.
+
+After the Earth-spirit's rebuff Faust is in despair. He has set all
+his hope on help from the spirit-world, and the hope has failed. His
+famulus Wagner, a type of the ardent and contented bookworm, comes in
+to get instruction on the art of public speaking, and Faust lays down
+the law to him. After Wagner's exit Faust is hopelessly despondent.
+After a mournful arraignment of life he is about to swallow a cup of
+poison that he has concocted, when his hand is staid by the first
+notes of the Easter celebration in a neighboring church. It reminds
+him of his happy youth when he, too, believed.
+
+The coming day is Easter Sunday. Faust and Wagner take an afternoon
+walk together and witness the jollity of the common people. As they
+are about to return home at nightfall they pick up a casual black dog
+that has been circling around them. Arrived in his comfortable study,
+Faust feels more cheerful. In a mood of religious peace he sets about
+translating a passage of the New Testament into German. The dog
+becomes uneasy and begins to take on the appearance of a horrid
+monster. Faust sees that he has brought home a spirit and proceeds to
+conjure the beast. Presently Mephistopheles emerges from his canine
+disguise in the costume of a wandering scholar. Faust is amused. He
+enters into conversation with his guest and learns something of his
+character. A familiar acquaintance ensues, and one day the Devil finds
+him once more in a mood of bitter despair, advises him to quit the
+tedious professorial life, and offers to be his comrade and servant on
+a grand tour of pleasure. After some bickering they enter into a
+solemn agreement according to which Faust's life is to end whenever he
+shall "stretch himself on a bed of ease," completely satisfied with
+the passing moment, and shall say to that moment, "Pray tarry, thou
+art so fair."
+
+We see that the Devil can win in only one way, namely, by somehow
+making Faust a contented sensualist. On the other hand, Faust may win
+in either of two ways. First, he might conceivably go on to his dying
+day as a bitter pessimist at war with life. In that event he would
+certainly never be content with the present moment. Secondly, he may
+outgrow his pessimism, but never come to the point where he is willing
+to check the flight of Time; when, that is, he shall have no more
+plans, hopes, dreams, that reach into the future and seem worth living
+for. The question is, then, whether Mephistopheles, by any lure at his
+command, can subdue Faust's forward-ranging idealism. The Devil
+expects to win; Faust wagers his immortal soul that the Devil will not
+win. In the old story the Devil appears promptly at the end of the
+twenty-four years, puts his victim to death, and takes possession of
+his soul. Goethe's Mephistopheles is a gentleman of culture for whom
+such savagery would be impossible. He will wait until his comrade dies
+a natural death and then put in his claim in the Devil's fashion; and
+it will be for the Lord in heaven to decide the case.
+
+Such is the scheme of the drama, but after the compact is made we hear
+no more of it until just before the end of the Second Part. The action
+takes the form of a long succession of adventures undertaken for the
+sake of experience. Duty, obligation, routine, have been left behind.
+Faust has nothing to do but to go about and try experiments--first in
+the "little world" of humble folk (the remainder of Part First), and
+then in the "great world" of court life, government, and war (the
+Second Part).
+
+By way of beginning Faust is taken to Auerbach's Cellar, where four
+jolly companions are assembled for a drinking-bout. He is simply
+disgusted with the grossness and vulgarity of it all. He is too
+old--so the Devil concludes--for the role he is playing and must have
+his youth renewed. So they repair to an old witch, who gives Faust an
+elixir that makes him young again. The scene in the witch's kitchen
+was written in Italy in 1788, by which time Goethe had come to think
+of his hero as an elderly man. The purpose of the scene was to account
+for the sudden change of Faust's character from brooding philosopher
+to rake and seducer. Of course the elixir of youth is at the same time
+a love-philter.
+
+Then come the matchless scenes that body forth the short romance of
+Margaret, her quick infatuation, her loss of virgin honor, the death
+of her mother and brother, her shame and misery, her agonizing death
+in prison. Here we are in the realm of pure realism, and never again
+did Goethe's art sound such depths of tragic pathos. The atmosphere of
+the love-tragedy is entirely different from that of the Faust-legend.
+Mephistopheles as the abettor of Faust's amorous passion has no need
+of magic. The role of Faust--that of a man pulled irresistibly by
+sexual passion, yet constantly tormented by his conscience--is
+repulsive, but very human. As he stands before the prison gate he says
+that "the whole sorrow of mankind" holds him in its grip. But this is
+a part of what he wished for. He wished for universal experience--to
+feel in his own soul all the weal and all the woe of humankind. At the
+end of the First Part he has drained the cup of sin and suffering.
+
+Imbedded in the love-tragedy is one scene which will seem out of tune
+with what has just been said--the Walpurgis Night. Here we are back
+again in the atmosphere of the legend, with its magic, its witchcraft,
+its gross sensuality. We hardly recognize our friend Faust when we
+find him dancing with naked witches and singing lewd songs on the
+Brocken. The scene was written in 1800 when Goethe had become a little
+cynical with respect to the artistic coherence of _Faust_ and looked
+on it as a "monstrosity." It was a part of the early plan that Faust
+should add to the burden of his soul by frivolously deserting Margaret
+in the shame of her approaching motherhood and spending some time in
+gross pleasures. The visit to the Witches' Sabbath on the Brocken was
+afterward invented to carry out this idea. In itself the idea was a
+good one; for if Faust was to drain the cup of sorrow, the ingredient
+of self-contempt could not be left out of the bitter chalice. A
+sorrow's crown of sorrow is not so much remembering happier things as
+remembering that the happy state came to an end by one's own
+wrongdoing. Still, most modern readers will think that Goethe, in
+elaborating the Brocken scene as an interesting study of the uncanny
+and the vile, let his hero sink needlessly far into the mire.
+
+At the beginning of the Second Part Goethe does not reopen the book of
+crime and remorse with which the First Part closes. He needs a new
+Faust for whom that is all past--past, not in the sense of being
+lightly forgotten, but built into his character and remembered, say,
+as one remembers the ecstasy and the pain of twenty years ago. So he
+ushers him directly into the new life over a bridge of symbolism. The
+restoring process which in real life takes many years he concentrates
+into a single night and represents it as the work of kindly nocturnal
+fairies and the glorious Alpine sunrise. Faust awakens healed and
+reinvigorated, and the majesty of Nature inspires in him a resolve to
+"strive ever onward toward the highest existence."
+
+But these fine words convey a promise which is not at once fulfilled.
+Like the most of us, Faust does not long continue to abide on the
+Alpine heights of his own best insight and aspiration. The comrade is
+at hand who interrupts his lonely communion with the spirit of the
+mountains and draws him away to the Emperor's court, where the pair
+soon ingratiate themselves as wonder-workers. They so please his
+Majesty with their marvelous illusions that they are regularly
+installed at court as purveyors of amusement. The first demand that is
+made on them is that they produce, for the entertainment of the court,
+the shades of the supremely beautiful Paris and Helena. To this end
+Mephistopheles devises the elaborate hocus-pocus of the Mothers. He
+sends Faust away to the vasty and viewless realm of the Ideal,
+instructing him how to bring thence a certain wonderful tripod, from
+the incense of which the desired forms can be made to appear. The show
+proceeds successfully, so far as the spectators are concerned, but an
+accident happens. Faust has been cautioned by his partner not to touch
+the fantom forms. But the moon-struck idealist falls in love with the
+beautiful Helena and, disregarding orders, attempts to hold her fast.
+The consequence is an explosion; the spirits vanish, and Faust
+receives an electric shock which paralyzes all his bodily functions.
+He is now in a trance; there is nothing left of him but a motionless
+body and a mute soul, dreaming of Helena. Mephistopheles pretends to
+be very much disgusted, but he knows where to go for help.
+
+At the beginning of the second act we return to the old study that was
+deserted years ago. Faust's former famulus, Dr. Wagner, has now become
+a world-renowned professor and is engaged in a great experiment,
+namely, in the production of a chemical man. By the aid of Mephisto's
+magic the experiment is quickly brought to a successful issue, and
+Homunculus--one of Goethe's whimsically delightful creations--emerges
+into being as an incorporeal radiant man in a glass bottle. The
+wonderful little fellow at once comprehends Faust's malady and
+prescribes that he be taken to the land of his dreams. So away they
+go, the three of them, to the Classical Walpurgis Night, which is
+celebrated annually on the battle-field of Pharsalus in Thessaly. As
+soon as Faust's feet touch classic soil he recovers his senses and
+sets out with enthusiasm to find Helena. After some wandering about
+among the classic fantoms he falls in with Chiron the Centaur, who
+carries him far away to the foot of Mount Olympus and leaves him with
+the wise priestess Manto, who escorts him to the Lower World and
+secures the consent of Queen Persephone to a temporary reappearance of
+Helena on earth.
+
+Meanwhile Mephistopheles, delighted to find on classic ground
+creatures no less ugly than those familiar to him in the far
+Northwest, enters, seemingly by way of a lark, into a curious
+arrangement with the three daughters of Phorkys. These were imagined
+by the Greeks as hideous old hags who lived in perpetual darkness and
+had one eye and one tooth which they used in common. Mephistopheles
+borrows the form, the eye, and the tooth of a Phorkyad and transforms
+himself very acceptably into an image of the Supreme Ugliness. In that
+shape he-she manages the fantasmagory of the third act. As for the
+third member of the expedition to Thessaly, Homunculus, he is
+possessed by a consuming desire to "begin existence," that is, to get
+a body and become a full-fledged member of the genus Homo. His
+wanderings in search of the best place to begin take him out into the
+Aegean Sea, where he is entranced by the beauty of the scene. In an
+ecstasy of prophetic joy he dashes his bottle to pieces against the
+shell-chariot of the lovely sea-nymph Galatea and dissolves himself
+with the shining animalculae of the sea. There he is now--coming up to
+the full estate of manhood by the various stages of protozoon, amoeba,
+mollusc, fish, reptile, bird, mammal, Man. It will take time, but he
+has no need to hurry.
+
+Then follows the third act, a classico-romantic fantasmagoria, in
+which Faust as medieval knight, ruling his multitudinous vassals from
+his castle in Arcadia, the fabled land of poetry, is wedded to the
+classic Queen of Beauty. It is all very fantastic, but also very
+beautiful and marvelously pregnant in its symbolism. But at last the
+fair illusion comes to an end. Euphorion, the child of Helena and
+Faust, the ethereal, earth-spurning Genius of Poesy, perishes in an
+attempt to fly, and his grief-stricken mother follows him back to
+Hades. Nothing is left to Faust but a majestic, inspiring memory. He
+gathers the robe of Helena about him, and it bears him aloft and
+carries him, high up in the air and far above all that is vulgar, back
+to Germany. His vehicle of cloud lands him on a mountain-summit, where
+he is soon joined by Mephistopheles, who puts the question, What next?
+We are now at the beginning of Act IV. Faust proceeds to unfold a
+grand scheme of conflict with the Sea. On his flight he has observed
+the tides eternally beating in upon the shore and evermore receding,
+all to no purpose. This blind waste of energy has excited in him the
+spirit of opposition. He proposes to fight the sea by building dikes
+which shall hold the rushing water in check and make dry land of the
+tide-swept area. Mephistopheles enters readily into his plans. They
+help the Emperor to win a critical battle, and by way of reward Faust
+receives a vast tract of swampy sea-shore as his fief.
+
+In Act V the great scheme has all been carried out. What was a watery
+desolation has been converted into a potential paradise. Faust is a
+great feudal lord, with a boundless domain and a fleet of ships that
+bring him the riches of far-away lands. But thus far he has simply
+been amusing himself on a grand scale. He has thought always mainly of
+himself. He has courted experience, among other things the experience
+of putting forth his power in a contest with the sea and performing a
+great feat of engineering. But it has not brought him a satisfaction
+in which he can rest. And he has not become a saint. An aged couple,
+who belong to the old regime and obstinately refuse to part with the
+little plot of ground on which they have lived for years, anger him to
+the point of madness. He wants their land so that he may build on it a
+watch-tower from which to survey and govern his possessions. He sends
+his servitor to remove them to a better home which he has prepared for
+them. But Mephistopheles carries out the order with reckless
+brutality, with the consequence that the old people are killed and
+their cottage burned to the ground. Thus Faust in his old age--by this
+time he is a hundred years old--has a fresh burden on his conscience.
+As he stands on the balcony of his palace at midnight, surveying the
+havoc he has unintentionally wrought, the smoke of the burning cottage
+is wafted toward him and takes the form of four gray old women. One of
+them, Dame Care, slips into the rich man's palace by way of the
+keyhole and croons in his ear her dismal litany of care. Faust replies
+in a fine declaration of independence, beginning--
+
+  The circle of the Earth is known to me,
+  What's on the other side we can not see.
+
+As Dame Care leaves him she breathes on his eyelids and makes him
+blind. But the inner light is not quenched. His hunger for life still
+unabated, he summons up all his energy and orders out an army of
+workmen to complete a great undertaking on which he has set his heart.
+On the edge of his domain, running along the distant foot-hills, is a
+miasmatic swamp which poisons the air and renders the land
+uninhabitable. He proposes to drain the swamp and thus create a home
+for millions yet to come.
+
+His imagination ranges forward, picturing a free, industrious,
+self-reliant people swarming on the land that he has won from the sea
+and made fit for human uses. In the ecstasy of altruistic emotion he
+exclaims: "Such a throng I would fain see, standing with a free people
+on a free soil; I might say to the passing moment, 'Pray tarry, thou
+art so fair.' The traces of my earthly life can not pass away in
+eons." That same instant he sinks back to earth--dying.
+
+Is there in all literature anything finer, grander, more nobly
+conceived? What follows--the conflict of the angels and devils for the
+final possession of Faust's soul--need not detain us long. We know how
+that will turn out. Indeed, the shrewd old Devil, while he goes
+through the form of making a stiff fight for what he pretends to think
+his rights, knows from the first that his is a losing battle. While he
+is watching the body of Faust to see where the soul is going to
+escape, the angels appear in a glory, bearing roses as their only
+weapon. With these they put the Devil and his minions to rout and bear
+away the dead man's soul to the Holy Mountain, singing their
+triumphal chant--
+
+Wer immer strebend sich bemueht,
+Den koennen wir erloesen.
+
+
+THE TRAGEDY OF FAUST
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE
+
+_Characters in the Prologue for the Theatre_.
+
+THE MANAGER.
+THE DRAMATIC POET.
+MERRYMAN.
+
+_Characters in the Prologue in Heaven_.
+
+THE LORD.
+RAPHAEL}
+GABRIEL} The Heavenly Host.
+MICHAEL}
+MEPHISTOPHELES.
+
+_Characters in the Tragedy_.
+
+FAUST.
+MEPHISTOPHELES.
+WAGNER, a Student.
+MARGARET.
+MARTHA, Margaret's Neighbor.
+VALENTINE, Margaret's Brother.
+OLD PEASANT.
+A STUDENT.
+ELIZABETH, an Acquaintance of Margaret's.
+FROSCH  }
+BRANDER   }  Guests in Auerbach's Wine Cellar.
+SIEBEL  }
+ALTMAYER  }
+
+Witches, old and young; Wizards, Will-o'-the-Wisp, Witch Peddler,
+Protophantasmist, Servibilis, Monkeys, Spirits, Journeymen,
+Country-folk, Citizens, Beggar, Old Fortune-teller, Shepherd, Soldier,
+Students, etc.
+
+_In the Intermezzo_.
+
+
+OBERON.
+TITANIA.
+ARIEL.
+PUCK, ETC., ETC.
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+
+Ye wavering shapes, again ye do enfold me,
+As erst upon my troubled sight ye stole;
+Shall I this time attempt to clasp, to hold ye?
+Still for the fond illusion yearns my soul?
+Ye press around! Come then, your captive hold me,
+As upward from the vapory mist ye roll;
+Within my breast youth's throbbing pulse is bounding,
+Fann'd by the magic breath your march surrounding.
+
+Shades fondly loved appear, your train attending,
+And visions fair of many a blissful day;
+First-love and friendship their fond accents blending,
+Like to some ancient, half-expiring lay;
+Sorrow revives, her wail of anguish sending
+Back o'er life's devious labyrinthine way,
+And names the dear ones, they whom Fate bereaving
+Of life's fair hours, left me behind them grieving.
+
+They hear me not my later cadence singing,
+The souls to whom my earlier lays I sang;
+Dispersed the throng, their severed flight now winging;
+Mute are the voices that responsive rang.
+For stranger crowds the Orphean lyre now stringing,
+E'en their applause is to my heart a pang;
+Of old who listened to my song, glad hearted,
+If yet they live, now wander widely parted.
+
+A yearning long unfelt, each impulse swaying,
+To yon calm spirit-realm uplifts my soul;
+In faltering cadence, as when Zephyr playing,
+Fans the AEolian harp, my numbers roll;
+Tear follows tear, my steadfast heart obeying
+The tender impulse, loses its control;
+What I possess as from afar I see;
+Those I have lost become realities to me.
+
+
+PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE
+
+MANAGER. DRAMATIC POET. MERRYMAN
+
+
+MANAGER
+Ye twain, in trouble and distress
+True friends whom I so oft have found,
+Say, for our scheme on German ground,
+What prospect have we of success?
+Fain would I please the public, win their thanks;
+They live and let live, hence it is but meet.
+The posts are now erected, and the planks,
+And all look forward to a festal treat.
+Their places taken, they, with eyebrows rais'd,
+Sit patiently, and fain would be amaz'd.
+I know the art to hit the public taste,
+Yet ne'er of failure felt so keen a dread;
+True, they are not accustomed to the best,
+But then appalling the amount they've read.
+How make our entertainment striking, new,
+And yet significant and pleasing too?
+For to be plain, I love to see the throng,
+As to our booth the living tide progresses;
+As wave on wave successive rolls along,
+And through heaven's narrow portal forceful presses;
+Still in broad daylight, ere the clock strikes four,
+With blows their way toward the box they take;
+And, as for bread in famine, at the baker's door,
+For tickets are content their necks to break.
+Such various minds the bard alone can sway,
+My friend, oh work this miracle today!
+
+POET
+
+Oh of the motley throng speak not before me,
+At whose aspect the Spirit wings its flight!
+Conceal the surging concourse, I implore thee,
+Whose vortex draws us with resistless might.
+No, to some peaceful heavenly nook restore me,
+Where only for the bard blooms pure delight,
+Where love and friendship yield their choicest blessing,
+Our heart's true bliss, with godlike hand caressing.
+
+What in the spirit's depths was there created,
+What shyly there the lip shaped forth in sound;
+A failure now, with words now fitly mated,
+In the wild tumult of the hour is drown'd;
+Full oft the poet's thought for years hath waited
+Until at length with perfect form 'tis crowned;
+What dazzles, for the moment born, must perish;
+What genuine is posterity will cherish.
+
+MERRYMAN
+
+This cant about posterity I hate;
+About posterity were I to prate,
+Who then the living would amuse? For they
+Will have diversion, ay, and 'tis their due.
+A sprightly fellow's presence at your play,
+Methinks should also count for something too;
+Whose genial wit the audience still inspires,
+Knows from their changeful mood no angry feeling;
+A wider circle he desires,
+To their heart's depths more surely thus appealing.
+To work, then! Give a master-piece, my friend;
+Bring Fancy with her choral trains before us,
+Sense, reason, feeling, passion, but attend!
+Let folly also swell the tragic chorus.
+
+MANAGER
+
+In chief, of incident enough prepare!
+A show they want, they come to gape and stare.
+Spin for their eyes abundant occupation,
+So that the multitude may wondering gaze,
+You by sheer bulk have won your reputation,
+The man you are all love to praise.
+By mass alone can you subdue the masses,
+Each then selects in time what suits his bent.
+Bring much, you something bring for various classes,
+And from the house goes every one content.
+You give a piece, abroad in pieces send it!
+'Tis a ragout--success must needs attend it;
+'Tis easy to serve up, as easy to invent.
+A finish'd whole what boots it to present!
+Full soon the public will in pieces rend it.
+
+POET
+
+How mean such handicraft as this you cannot feel!
+How it revolts the genuine artist's mind!
+The sorry trash in which these coxcombs deal,
+Is here approved on principle, I find.
+
+MANAGER
+
+Such a reproof disturbs me not a whit!
+Who on efficient work is bent,
+Must choose the fittest instrument.
+Consider! 'tis soft wood you have to split;
+Think too for whom you write, I pray!
+One comes to while an hour away;
+One from the festive board, a sated guest;
+Others, more dreaded than the rest,
+From journal-reading hurry to the play.
+As to a masquerade, with absent minds, they press,
+Sheer curiosity their footsteps winging;
+Ladies display their persons and their dress,
+Actors unpaid their service bringing.
+What dreams beguile you on your poet's height?
+What puts a full house in a merry mood?
+More closely view your patrons of the night!
+The half are cold, the half are rude.
+One, the play over, craves a game of cards;
+Another a wild night in wanton joy would spend.
+Poor fools the muses' fair regards
+Why court for such a paltry end?
+I tell you, give them more, still more, 'tis all I ask,
+Thus you will ne'er stray widely from the goal;
+Your audience seek to mystify, cajole;--
+To satisfy them--that's a harder task.
+What ails thee? art enraptured or distressed?
+
+POET
+
+Depart! elsewhere another servant choose.
+What! shall the bard his godlike power abuse?
+Man's loftiest right, kind nature's high bequest,
+For your mean purpose basely sport away?
+Whence comes his mastery o'er the human breast,
+Whence o'er the elements his sway,
+But from the harmony that, gushing from his soul,
+Draws back into his heart the wondrous whole?
+With careless hand when round her spindle, Nature
+Winds the interminable thread of life;
+When 'mid the clash of Being every creature
+Mingles in harsh inextricable strife;
+Who deals their course unvaried till it falleth,
+In rhythmic flow to music's measur'd tone?
+Each solitary note whose genius calleth,
+To swell the mighty choir in unison?
+Who in the raging storm sees passion low'ring?
+Or flush of earnest thought in evening's glow?
+Who every blossom in sweet spring-time flowering
+Along the loved one's path would strow?
+Who, Nature's green familiar leaves entwining,
+Wreathes glory's garland, won on every field?
+Makes sure Olympus, heavenly powers combining?
+Man's mighty spirit, in the bard reveal'd!
+
+MERRYMAN
+
+Come then, employ your lofty inspiration,
+And carry on the poet's avocation,
+Just as we carry on a love affair.
+Two meet by chance, are pleased, they linger there,
+Insensibly are link'd, they scarce know how;
+Fortune seems now propitious, adverse now,
+Then come alternate rapture and despair;
+And 'tis a true romance ere one's aware.
+Just such a drama let us now compose.
+Plunge boldly into life-its, depths disclose!
+Each lives it, not to many is it known,
+'Twill interest wheresoever seiz'd and shown;
+Bright pictures, but obscure their meaning:
+A ray of truth through error gleaming,
+Thus you the best elixir brew,
+To charm mankind, and edify them too.
+Then youth's fair blossoms crowd to view your play,
+And wait as on an oracle; while they,
+The tender souls, who love the melting mood,
+Suck from your work their melancholy food;
+Now this one, and now that, you deeply stir,
+Each sees the working of his heart laid bare.
+Their tears, their laughter, you command with ease,
+The lofty still they honor, the illusive love.
+Your finish'd gentlemen you ne'er can please;
+A growing mind alone will grateful prove.
+
+POET
+
+Then give me back youth's golden prime,
+When my own spirit too was growing,
+When from my heart th' unbidden rhyme
+Gush'd forth, a fount for ever flowing;
+Then shadowy mist the world conceal'd,
+And every bud sweet promise made,
+Of wonders yet to be reveal'd,
+As through the vales, with blooms inlaid,
+Culling a thousand flowers I stray'd.
+Naught had I, yet a rich profusion!
+The thirst for truth, joy in each fond illusion.
+Give me unquell'd those impulses to prove;--
+Rapture so deep, its ecstasy was pain,
+The power of hate, the energy of love,
+Give me, oh give me back my youth again!
+
+MERRYMAN
+
+Youth, my good friend, you certainly require
+When foes in battle round are pressing,
+When a fair maid, her heart on fire,
+Hangs on your neck with fond caressing,
+When from afar, the victor's crown,
+To reach the hard-won goal inciteth;
+When from the whirling dance, to drown
+Your sense, the nights carouse inviteth.
+But the familiar chords among
+Boldly to sweep, with graceful cunning,
+While to its goal, the verse along
+Its winding path is sweetly running;
+This task is yours, old gentlemen, today;
+Nor are you therefore less in reverence held;
+Age does not make us childish, as folk say,
+It finds us genuine children e'en in eld.
+
+MANAGER
+
+A truce to words, mere empty sound,
+Let deeds at length appear, my friends!
+While idle compliments you round,
+You might achieve some useful ends.
+Why talk of the poetic vein?
+Who hesitates will never know it;
+If bards ye are, as ye maintain,
+Now let your inspiration show it.
+To you is known what we require,
+Strong drink to sip is our desire;
+Come, brew me such without delay!
+Tomorrow sees undone, what happens not today;
+Still forward press, nor ever tire!
+The possible, with steadfast trust,
+Resolve should by the forelock grasp;
+Then she will never let go her clasp,
+And labors on, because she must.
+On German boards, you're well aware,
+The taste of each may have full sway;
+Therefore in bringing out your play,
+Nor scenes nor mechanism spare!
+Heaven's lamps employ, the greatest and the least,
+Be lavish of the stellar lights,
+Water, and fire, and rocky heights,
+Spare not at all, nor birds, nor beast.
+Thus let creation's ample sphere
+Forthwith in this our narrow booth appear,
+And with considerate speed, through fancy's spell,
+Journey from heaven, thence through the world, to hell!
+
+
+PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN
+
+THE LORD. THE HEAVENLY HOSTS. _Afterward_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+
+_The three Archangels come forward_
+
+RAPHAEL
+
+The Sun, in ancient guise, competing
+With brother spheres in rival song,
+With thunder-march, his orb completing,
+Moves his predestin'd course along;
+His aspect to the powers supernal
+Gives strength, though fathom him none may;
+Transcending thought, the works eternal
+Are fair as on the primal day.
+
+GABRIEL
+
+With speed, thought baffling, unabating,
+Earth's splendor whirls in circling flight;
+Its Eden-brightness alternating
+With solemn, awe-inspiring night;
+Ocean's broad waves in wild commotion,
+Against the rocks' deep base are hurled;
+And with the spheres, both rock and ocean
+Eternally are swiftly whirled.
+
+MICHAEL
+
+And tempests roar in emulation
+From sea to land, from land to sea,
+And raging form, without cessation,
+A chain of wondrous agency,
+Full in the thunder's path careering,
+Flaring the swift destructions play;
+But, Lord, Thy servants are revering
+The mild procession of thy day.
+
+THE THREE
+
+Thine aspect to the powers supernal
+Gives strength, though fathom thee none may;
+And all thy works, sublime, eternal,
+Are fair as on the primal day.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Since thou, O Lord, approachest us once more,
+And how it fares with us, to ask art fain,
+Since thou hast kindly welcom'd me of yore,
+Thou see'st me also now among thy train.
+Excuse me, fine harangues I cannot make,
+Though all the circle look on me with scorn;
+My pathos soon thy laughter would awake,
+Hadst thou the laughing mood not long forsworn.
+Of suns and worlds I nothing have to say,
+I see alone mankind's self-torturing pains.
+The little world-god still the self-same stamp retains,
+And is as wondrous now as on the primal day.
+Better he might have fared, poor wight,
+Hadst thou not given him a gleam of heavenly light;
+Reason he names it, and doth so
+Use it, than brutes more brutish still to grow.
+With deference to your grace, he seems to me
+Like any long-legged grasshopper to be,
+Which ever flies, and flying springs,
+And in the grass its ancient ditty sings.
+Would he but always in the grass repose!
+In every heap of dung he thrusts his nose.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Hast thou naught else to say? Is blame
+In coming here, as ever, thy sole aim?
+Does nothing on the earth to thee seem right?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+No, Lord! I find things there, as ever, in sad plight.
+Men, in their evil days, move my compassion;
+Such sorry things to plague is nothing worth.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Know'st thou my servant, Faust?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The doctor?
+
+THE LORD
+
+Right.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+He serves thee truly in a wondrous fashion.
+Poor fool! His food and drink are not of earth.
+An inward impulse hurries him afar,
+Himself half conscious of his frenzied mood;
+From heaven claimeth he the fairest star,
+And from the earth craves every highest good,
+And all that's near, and all that's far,
+Fails to allay the tumult in his blood.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Though in perplexity he serves me now,
+I soon will lead him where more light appears;
+When buds the sapling, doth the gardener know
+That flowers and fruit will deck the coming years!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What wilt thou wager? Him thou yet shall lose,
+If leave to me thou wilt but give,
+Gently to lead him as I choose!
+
+THE LORD
+
+So long as he on earth doth live,
+So long 'tis not forbidden thee.
+Man still must err, while he doth strive.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I thank you; for not willingly
+I traffic with the dead, and still aver
+That youth's plump blooming cheek I very much prefer.
+I'm not at home to corpses; 'tis my way,
+Like cats with captive mice to toy and play.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Enough! 'tis granted thee! Divert
+This mortal spirit from his primal source;
+Him, canst thou seize, thy power exert
+And lead him on thy downward course,
+Then stand abash'd, when thou perforce must own,
+A good man in his darkest aberration,
+Of the right path is conscious still.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis done! Full soon thou'lt see my exultation;
+As for my bet no fears I entertain.
+And if my end I finally should gain,
+Excuse my triumphing with all my soul.
+Dust he shall eat, ay, and with relish take,
+As did my cousin, the renowned snake.
+
+THE LORD
+
+Here too thou'rt free to act without control;
+I ne'er have cherished hate for such as thee.
+Of all the spirits who deny,
+The scoffer is least wearisome to me.
+Ever too prone is man activity to shirk,
+In unconditioned rest he fain would live;
+Hence this companion purposely I give,
+Who stirs, excites, and must, as devil, work.
+But ye, the genuine sons of heaven, rejoice!
+In the full living beauty still rejoice!
+May that which works and lives, the ever-growing,
+In bonds of love enfold you, mercy-fraught,
+And Seeming's changeful forms, around you flowing,
+Do ye arrest, in ever-during thought!
+
+_[Heaven closes, the, Archangels disperse.]_
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES _(alone)_
+
+The ancient one I like sometimes to see,
+And not to break with him am always civil;
+'Tis courteous in so great a lord as he,
+To speak so kindly even to the devil.
+
+
+FAUST--PART I (1808)[34]
+
+TRANSLATED BY ANNA SWANWICK
+
+NIGHT
+
+_A high vaulted narrow Gothic chamber_.
+
+FAUST, _restless, seated at his desk._
+
+
+FAUST
+
+I have, alas! Philosophy,
+Medicine, Jurisprudence too,
+And to my cost Theology,
+With ardent labor, studied through.
+And here I stand, with all my lore,
+Poor fool, no wiser than before.
+Magister, doctor styled, indeed,
+Already these ten years I lead,
+Up, down, across, and to and fro,
+My pupils by the nose,--and learn,
+That we in truth can nothing know!
+That in my heart like fire doth burn.
+'Tis true, I've more cunning than all your dull tribe,
+Magister and doctor, priest, parson, and scribe;
+Scruple or doubt comes not to enthrall me,
+Neither can devil nor hell now appal me--
+Hence also my heart must all pleasure forego!
+I may not pretend aught rightly to know,
+I may not pretend, through teaching, to find
+A means to improve or convert mankind.
+Then I have neither goods nor treasure,
+No worldly honor, rank, or pleasure;
+No dog in such fashion would longer live!
+Therefore myself to magic I give,
+In hope, through spirit-voice and might,
+Secrets now veiled to bring to light,
+That I no more, with aching brow,
+Need speak of what I nothing know;
+That I the force may recognize
+That binds creation's inmost energies;
+Her vital powers, her embryo seeds survey,
+And fling the trade in empty words away.
+O full-orb'd moon, did but thy rays
+Their last upon mine anguish gaze!
+Beside this desk, at dead of night,
+Oft have I watched to hail thy light:
+Then, pensive friend! o'er book and scroll,
+With soothing power, thy radiance stole!
+In thy dear light, ah, might I climb,
+Freely, some mountain height sublime,
+Round mountain caves with spirits ride,
+In thy mild haze o'er meadows glide,
+And, purged from knowledge-fumes, renew
+My spirit, in thy healing dew!
+
+Woe's me! still prison'd in the gloom
+Of this abhorr'd and musty room!
+Where heaven's dear light itself doth pass
+But dimly through the painted glass!
+Hemmed in by book-heaps, piled around,
+Worm-eaten, hid 'neath dust and mold,
+Which to the high vault's topmast bound,
+A smoke-stained paper doth enfold;
+With boxes round thee piled, and glass,
+And many a useless instrument,
+With old ancestral lumber blent--
+This is thy world! a world! alas!
+And dost thou ask why heaves thy heart,
+With tighten'd pressure in thy breast?
+Why the dull ache will not depart,
+By which thy life-pulse is oppress'd?
+Instead of nature's living sphere,
+Created for mankind of old,
+Brute skeletons surround thee here,
+And dead men's bones in smoke and mold.
+Up! Forth into the distant land!
+Is not this book of mystery
+By Nostradamus' proper hand,
+An all-sufficient guide? Thou'lt see
+The courses of the stars unroll'd;
+When nature doth her thoughts unfold
+To thee, thy-soul shall rise, and seek
+Communion high with her to hold,
+As spirit cloth with spirit speak!
+Vain by dull poring to divine
+The meaning of each hallow'd sign.
+Spirits! I feel you hov'ring near;
+Make answer, if my voice ye hear!
+
+[_He opens the book and perceives the sign of the
+Macrocosmos_.]
+
+Ah! at this spectacle through every sense,
+What sudden ecstasy of joy is flowing!
+I feel new rapture, hallow'd and intense,
+Through every nerve and vein with ardor glowing.
+Was it a god who character'd this scroll,
+The tumult in my-spirit healing,
+O'er my sad heart with rapture stealing,
+And by a mystic impulse, to my soul,
+The powers of nature all around revealing.
+Am I a god? What light intense
+In these pure symbols do I see
+Nature exert her vital energy?
+Now of the wise man's words I learn the sense;
+ "Unlock'd the spirit-world is lying,
+ Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead!
+ Up scholar, lave, with zeal undying,
+ Thine earthly breast in the morning-red!"
+
+[_He contemplates the sign_.]
+
+How all things live and work, and ever blending,
+Weave one vast whole from Being's ample range!
+How powers celestial, rising and descending,
+Their golden buckets ceaseless interchange!
+Their flight on rapture-breathing pinions winging,
+From heaven to earth their genial influence bringing.
+Through the wild sphere their chimes melodious ringing!
+
+A wondrous show! but ah! a show alone!
+Where shall I grasp thee, infinite nature, where?
+Ye breasts, ye fountains of all life, whereon
+Hang heaven and earth, from which the withered heart
+For solace yearns, ye still impart
+Your sweet and fostering tides-where are ye-where?
+Ye gush, and must I languish in despair?
+
+[_He turns over the leaves of the book impatiently, and
+perceives the sign of the Earth-spirit_.]
+
+How all unlike the influence of this sign!
+Earth-spirit, thou to me art nigher,
+E'en now my strength is rising higher,
+E'en now I glow as with new wine;
+Courage I feel, abroad the world to dare,
+The woe of earth, the bliss of earth to bear,
+With storms to wrestle, brave the lightning's glare,
+And mid the crashing shipwreck not despair.
+
+Clouds gather over me--
+The moon conceals her light--
+The lamp is quench'd--
+Vapors are arising--Quiv'ring round my head
+Flash the red beams--Down from the vaulted roof
+A shuddering horror floats,
+And seizes me!
+I feel it, spirit, prayer-compell'd, 'tis thou
+Art hovering near!
+Unveil thyself!
+Ha! How my heart is riven now!
+Each sense, with eager palpitation,
+Is strain'd to catch some new sensation!
+I feel my heart surrender'd unto thee!
+Thou must! Thou must! Though life should be the fee!
+
+[_He seizes the book, and pronounces mysteriously the
+sign of the spirit. A ruddy flame flashes up; the
+spirit appears in the flame_.]
+
+SPIRIT
+
+Who calls me?
+
+FAUST (_turning aside_)
+
+Dreadful shape!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+With might,
+Thou hast compell'd me to appear,
+Long hast been sucking at my sphere,
+And now--
+
+FAUST
+
+Woe's me! I cannot bear thy sight!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+To see me thou dost breathe thine invocation,
+My voice to hear, to gaze upon my brow;
+Me doth thy strong entreaty bow--
+Lo! I am here!--What cowering agitation
+Grasps thee, the demigod! Where's now the soul's deep cry?
+Where is the breast, which in its depths a world conceiv'd,
+And bore and cherished? which, with ecstasy,
+To rank itself with us, the spirits, heaved?
+Where art thou, Faust? Whose voice heard I resound
+Who toward me press'd with energy profound?
+Art thou he? Thou,--who by my breath art blighted,
+Who, in his spirit's depths affrighted,
+Trembles, a crush'd and writhing worm!
+
+FAUST
+
+Shall I yield, thing of flame, to thee?
+Faust, and thine equal, I am he!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+In the currents of life, in action's storm,
+I float and I wave
+With billowy motion!
+Birth and the grave,
+O limitless ocean,
+A constant weaving
+With change still rife,
+A restless heaving,
+A glowing life---
+Thus time's whirring loom unceasing I ply,
+And weave the life-garment of deity.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou, restless spirit, dost from end to end
+O'ersweep the world; how near I feel to thee!
+
+SPIRIT
+
+Thou'rt like the spirit, thou dost comprehend,
+Not me! [_Vanishes_.]
+
+FAUST (_deeply moved_)
+
+Not thee
+Whom then?
+I, God's own image!
+And not rank with thee! [_A knock_.]
+Oh death! I know it-'tis my famulus--
+My fairest fortune now escapes!
+That all these visionary shapes
+A soulless groveller should banish thus!
+
+[WAGNER _in his dressing gown and night-cap, a lamp
+in his hand_. FAUST _turns round reluctantly_.]
+
+WAGNER
+
+Pardon! I heard you here declaim;
+A Grecian tragedy you doubtless read?
+Improvement in this art is now my aim,
+For now-a-days it much avails. Indeed
+An actor, oft I've heard it said, as teacher,
+May give instruction to a preacher.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay, if your priest should be an actor too,
+As not improbably may come to pass.
+
+WAGNER
+
+When in his study pent the whole year through,
+Man views the world, as through an optic glass,
+On a chance holiday, and scarcely then,
+How by persuasion can he govern men?
+
+FAUST
+
+If feeling prompt not, if it doth not flow
+Fresh from the spirit's depths, with strong control
+Swaying to rapture every listener's soul,
+Idle your toil; the chase you may forego!
+Brood o'er your task! Together glue,
+Cook from another's feast your own ragout,
+Still prosecute your paltry game,
+And fan your ash-heaps into flame!
+Thus children's wonder you'll excite,
+And apes', if such your appetite;
+But that which issues from the heart alone,
+Will bend the hearts of others to your own.
+
+WAGNER
+
+The speaker in delivery, will find
+Success alone; I still am far behind.
+
+FAUST
+
+A worthy object still pursue!
+Be not a hollow tinkling fool!
+Sound understanding, judgment true,
+Find utterance without art or rule;
+And when in earnest you are moved to speak,
+Then is it needful cunning words to seek?
+Your fine harangues, so polish'd in their kind,
+Wherein the shreds of human thought ye twist,
+Are unrefreshing as the empty wind,
+Whistling through wither'd leaves and autumn mist!
+
+WAGNER
+
+Oh God! How long is art,
+Our life how short! With earnest zeal
+Still as I ply the critic's task, I feel
+A strange oppression both of head and heart.
+The very means--how hardly are they won,
+By which we to the fountains rise!
+And, haply, ere one half the course is run,
+Check'd in his progress, the poor devil dies.
+
+FAUST
+
+Parchment, is that the sacred fount whence roll
+Waters he thirsteth not who once hath quaffed?
+Oh, if it gush not from thine inmost soul,
+Thou hast not won the life-restoring draught.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Your pardon! 'tis delightful to transport
+Oneself into the spirit of the past,
+To see in times before us how a wise man thought,
+And what a glorious height we have achieved at last.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay, truly! even to the loftiest star!
+To us, my friend, the ages that are pass'd
+A book with seven seals, close-fasten'd, are;
+And what the spirit of the times men call,
+Is merely their own spirit after all,
+Wherein, distorted oft, the times are glass'd.
+Then truly, 'tis a sight to grieve the soul!
+At the first glance we fly it in dismay;
+A very lumber-room, a rubbish-hole;
+At best a sort of mock-heroic play,
+With saws pragmatical, and maxims sage,
+To suit the puppets and their mimic stage.
+
+WAGNER
+
+But then the world and man, his heart and brain!
+Touching these things all men would something know.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay! what 'mong men as knowledge doth obtain!
+Who on the child its true name dares bestow?
+The few who somewhat of these things have known,
+Who their full hearts unguardedly reveal'd,
+Nor thoughts, nor feelings, from the mob conceal'd,
+Have died on crosses, or in flames been thrown.--
+Excuse me, friend, far now the night is spent,
+For this time we must say adieu.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Still to watch on I had been well content,
+Thus to converse so learnedly with you.
+But as tomorrow will be Easter-day,
+Some further questions grant, I pray;
+With diligence to study still I fondly cling;
+Already I know much, but would know everything. [Exit.]
+
+FAUST (_alone_)
+
+How him alone all hope abandons never,
+To empty trash who clings, with zeal untired,
+With greed for treasure gropes, and, joy-inspir'd,
+Exults if earth-worms second his endeavor.
+
+And dare a voice of merely human birth,
+E'en here, where shapes immortal throng'd, intrude?
+Yet ah! thou poorest of the sons of earth,
+For once, I e'en to thee feel gratitude.
+Despair the power of sense did well-nigh blast,
+And thou didst save me ere I sank dismay'd;
+So giant-like the vision seem'd, so vast,
+I felt myself shrink dwarf'd as I survey'd!
+
+I, God's own image, from this toil of clay
+Already freed, with eager joy who hail'd
+The mirror of eternal truth unveil'd,
+Mid light effulgent and celestial day
+I, more than cherub, whose unfetter'd soul
+With penetrative glance aspir'd to flow
+Through nature's veins, and, still creating, know
+The life of gods,--how am I punish'd now!
+One thunder-word hath hurl'd me from the goal!
+
+Spirit! I dare not lift me to thy sphere.
+What though my power compell'd thee to appear,
+My art was powerless to detain thee here.
+In that great moment, rapture-fraught,
+I felt myself so small, so great;
+Fiercely didst thrust me from the realm of thought
+Back on humanity's uncertain fate!
+Who'll teach me now? What ought I to forego?
+Ought I that impulse to obey?
+Alas! our every deed, as well as every woe,
+Impedes the tenor of life's onward way!
+
+E'en to the noblest by the soul conceiv'd,
+Some feelings cling of baser quality;
+And when the goods of this world are achiev'd,
+Each nobler aim is term'd a cheat, a lie.
+Our aspirations, our soul's genuine life,
+Grow torpid in the din of earthly strife.
+
+Though youthful phantasy, while hope inspires,
+Stretch o'er the infinite her wing sublime,
+A narrow compass limits her desires,
+When wreck'd our fortunes in the gulf of time.
+In the deep heart of man care builds her nest,
+O'er secret woes she broodeth there,
+Sleepless she rocks herself and scareth joy and rest;
+Still is she wont some new disguise to wear--
+She may as house and court, as wife and child appear,
+As dagger, poison, fire and flood;
+Imagined evils chill thy blood,
+And what thou ne'er shalt lose, o'er that dost shed the tear.
+
+I am not like the gods! Feel it I must;
+I'm like the earth-worm, writhing in the dust,
+Which, as on dust it feeds, its native fare,
+Crushed 'neath the passer's tread, lies buried there.
+
+Is it not dust, wherewith this lofty wall,
+With hundred shelves, confines me round;
+Rubbish, in thousand shapes, may I not call
+What in this moth-world doth my being bound?
+Here, what doth fail me, shall I find?
+Read in a thousand tomes that, everywhere,
+Self-torture is the lot of human-kind,
+With but one mortal happy, here and there
+Thou hollow skull, that grin, what should it say,
+But that thy brain, like mine, of old perplexed,
+Still yearning for the truth, hath sought the light of day,
+And in the twilight wandered, sorely vexed?
+Ye instruments, forsooth, ye mock at me,--
+With wheel, and cog, and ring, and cylinder;
+To nature's portals ye should be the key;
+Cunning your wards, and yet the bolts ye fail to stir.
+Inscrutable in broadest light,
+To be unveil'd by force she doth refuse,
+What she reveals not to thy mental sight
+Thou wilt not wrest from her with levers and with screws.
+Old useless furnitures, yet stand ye here,
+Because my sire ye served, now dead and gone.
+Old scroll, the smoke of years dost wear,
+So long as o'er this desk the sorry lamp hath shone.
+Better my little means hath squandered quite away
+Than burden'd by that little here to sweat and groan!
+Wouldst thou possess thy heritage, essay
+By use to render it thine own!
+What we employ not but impedes our way;
+That which the hour creates, that can it use alone!
+
+But wherefore to yon spot is riveted my gaze?
+Is yonder flasket there a magnet to my sight?
+Whence this mild radiance that around me plays,
+As when, 'mid forest gloom, reigneth the moon's soft light?
+Hail, precious phial! Thee, with reverent awe,
+Down from thine old receptacle I draw!
+Science in thee I hail and human art.
+
+Essence of deadliest powers, refin'd and sure,
+Of soothing anodynes abstraction pure,
+Now in thy master's need thy grace impart!
+I gaze on thee, my pain is lull'd to rest;
+I grasp thee, calm'd the tumult in my breast;
+The flood-tide of my spirit ebbs away;
+Onward I'm summon'd o'er a boundless main,
+Calm at my feet expands the glassy plain,
+To shores unknown allures a brighter day.
+
+Lo, where a car of fire, on airy pinion,
+Comes floating towards me! I'm prepar'd to fly
+By a new track through ether's wide dominion,
+To distant spheres of pure activity.
+This life intense, this godlike ecstasy--
+Worm that thou art such rapture canst thou earn!
+Only resolve, with courage stern and high,
+Thy visage from the radiant sun to turn!
+Dare with determin'd will to burst the portals
+Past which in terror others fain would steal!
+Now is the time, through deeds, to show that mortals
+The calm sublimity of gods can feel;
+To shudder not at yonder dark abyss
+Where phantasy creates her own self-torturing brood;
+Right onward to the yawning gulf to press,
+Around whose narrow jaws rolleth hell's fiery flood;
+With glad resolve to take the fatal leap,
+Though danger threaten thee, to sink in endless sleep!
+
+Pure crystal goblet! forth I draw thee now
+From out thine antiquated case, where thou
+Forgotten hast reposed for many a year!
+Oft at my father's revels thou didst shine;
+To glad the earnest guests was thine,
+As each to other passed the generous cheer.
+The gorgeous brede of figures, quaintly wrought,
+Which he who quaff'd must first in rhyme expound,
+Then drain the goblet at one draught profound,
+Hath nights of boyhood to fond memory brought.
+I to my neighbor shall not reach thee now,
+Nor on thy rich device shall I my cunning show.
+Here is a juice, makes drunk without delay;
+Its dark brown flood thy crystal round doth fill;
+Let this last draught, the product of my skill,
+My own free choice, be quaff'd with resolute will,
+A solemn festive greeting, to the coming day!
+           [_He places the goblet to his mouth_.]
+
+[_The ringing of bells, and choral voices_.]
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS
+
+Christ is arisen!
+Mortal, all hail to thee,
+Thou whom mortality,
+Earth's sad reality,
+Held as in prison.
+
+FAUST
+
+What hum melodious, what clear silvery chime,
+Thus draws the goblet from my lips away?
+Ye deep-ton'd bells, do ye, with voice sublime,
+Announce the solemn dawn of Easter-day?
+Sweet choir! are ye the hymn of comfort singing,
+Which once around the darkness of the grave,
+From seraph-voices, in glad triumph ringing,
+Of a new covenant assurance gave?
+
+CHORUS OF WOMEN
+
+We, his true-hearted,
+With spices and myrrh.
+Embalmed the departed,
+And swathed Him with care;
+Here we conveyed Him,
+Our Master, so dear;
+Alas! Where we laid Him,
+The Christ is not here.
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS
+
+Christ is arisen!
+Blessed the loving one,
+Who from earth's trial-throes,
+Healing and strengthening woes,
+Soars as from prison.
+
+FAUST
+
+Wherefore, ye tones celestial, sweet and strong,
+Come ye a dweller in the dust to seek?
+Ring out your chimes believing crowds among,
+The message well I hear, my faith alone is weak;
+From faith her darling, miracle, hath sprung.
+Aloft to yonder spheres I dare not soar,
+Whence sound the tidings of great joy;
+And yet, with this sweet strain familiar when a boy,
+Back it recalleth me to life once more.
+Then would celestial love, with holy kiss,
+Come o'er me in the Sabbath's stilly hour,
+While, fraught with solemn meaning and mysterious power,
+Chim'd the deep-sounding bell, and prayer was bliss;
+A yearning impulse, undefin'd yet dear,
+Drove me to wander on through wood and field;
+With heaving breast and many a burning tear,
+I felt with holy joy a world reveal'd.
+Gay sports and festive hours proclaim'd with joyous pealing
+This Easter hymn in days of old;
+And fond remembrance now doth me, with childlike feeling,
+Back from the last, the solemn step, withhold.
+O still sound on, thou sweet celestial strain!
+The tear-drop flows--Earth, I am thine again!
+
+CHORUS OF DISCIPLES
+
+He whom we mourned as dead,
+Living and glorious,
+
+From the dark grave hath fled,
+O'er death victorious;
+Almost creative bliss
+Waits on His growing powers;
+Ah! Him on earth we miss;
+Sorrow and grief are ours.
+Yearning He left His own,
+Mid sore annoy;
+Ah! we must needs bemoan,
+Master, thy joy!
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS
+
+Christ is arisen,
+Redeem'd from decay.
+The bonds which imprison
+Your souls, rend away!
+Praising the Lord with zeal,
+By deeds that love reveal,
+Like brethren true and leal
+Sharing the daily meal,
+To all that sorrow feel
+Whisp'ring of heaven's weal,
+Still is the Master near,
+Still is He here!
+
+BEFORE THE GATE
+_Promenaders of all sorts pass out_.
+
+ARTISANS
+
+Why choose ye that direction, pray?
+
+OTHERS
+
+To the hunting-lodge we're on our way.
+
+THE FIRST
+
+We toward the mill are strolling on.
+
+A MECHANIC
+
+A walk to Wasserhof were best.
+
+A SECOND
+
+The road is not a pleasant one.
+
+THE OTHERS
+
+What will you do?
+
+A THIRD
+
+I'll join the rest.
+
+A FOURTH
+
+Let's up to Burghof, there you'll find good cheer,
+The prettiest maidens and the best of beer,
+And brawls of a prime sort.
+
+A FIFTH
+
+You scapegrace! How?
+Your skin still itching for a row?
+Thither I will not go, I loathe the place.
+
+SERVANT GIRL
+
+No, no! I to the town my steps retrace.
+
+ANOTHER
+
+Near yonder poplars he is sure to be.
+
+THE FIRST
+
+And if he is, what matters it to me!
+With you he'll walk, he'll dance with none but you,
+And with your pleasures what have I to do?
+
+THE SECOND
+
+Today he will not be alone, he said
+His friend would be with him, the curly-head.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Why how those buxom girls step on!
+Come, brother, we will follow them anon.
+Strong beer, a damsel smartly dress'd,
+Stinging tobacco--these I love the best.
+
+BURGHER'S DAUGHTER
+
+Look at those handsome fellows there!
+'Tis really shameful, I declare;
+The very best society they shun,
+After those servant-girls forsooth, to run.
+
+SECOND STUDENT (_to the first_)
+
+Not quite so fast! for in our rear,
+Two girls, well-dress'd, are drawing near;
+Not far from us the one doth dwell,
+And, sooth to say, I like her well.
+They walk demurely, yet you'll see,
+That they will let us join them presently.
+
+THE FIRST
+
+Not I! restraints of all kinds I detest.
+Quick! let us catch the wild-game ere it flies;
+The hand on Saturday the mop that plies
+Will on the Sunday fondle you the best.
+
+BURGHER
+
+No, this new Burgomaster; I like him not, God knows;
+No, he's in office; daily more arrogant he grows;
+And for the town, what doth he do for it?
+Are not things worse from day to day?
+To more restraints we must submit;
+And taxes more than ever pay.
+
+BEGGAR (_sings_)
+
+Kind gentlemen and ladies fair,
+So rosy-cheek'd and trimly dress'd,
+Be pleas'd to listen to my prayer;
+Relieve and pity the distress'd.
+Let me not vainly sing my lay!
+His heart's most glad whose hand is free.
+Now when all men keep holiday,
+Should be a harvest-day to me.
+
+OTHER BURGHER
+
+On holidays and Sundays naught know I more inviting
+Than chatting about war and war's alarms,
+When folk in Turkey, up in arms,
+Far off, are 'gainst each other fighting.
+We at the window stand, our glasses drain
+And watch adown the stream the painted vessels gliding;
+Then joyful we at eve come home again,
+And peaceful times we bless, peace long-abiding.
+
+THIRD BURGHER
+
+Ay, neighbor! So let matters stand for me!
+There they may scatter one another's brains,
+And wild confusion round them see--
+So here at home in quiet all remains!
+
+OLD WOMAN (_to the_ BURGHERS' DAUGHTERS)
+
+Heyday! How smart! The fresh young blood!
+Who would not fall in love with you?
+Not quite so proud! 'Tis well and good!
+And what you wish, that I could help you to.
+
+BURGHER'S DAUGHTER
+
+Come, Agatha! I care not to be seen
+Walking in public with these witches. True,
+My future lover, last St. Andrew's E'en,
+In flesh and blood she brought before my view.
+
+ANOTHER
+
+And mine she show'd me also in the glass.
+A soldier's figure, with companions bold;
+I look around, I seek him as I pass--
+In vain, his form I nowhere can behold.
+
+SOLDIERS
+
+Fortress with turrets
+And walls high in air,
+Damsel disdainful,
+Haughty and fair--
+These be my prey!
+Bold is the venture,
+Costly the pay!
+
+Hark, how the trumpet
+Thither doth call us
+Where either pleasure
+Or death may befall us!
+Hail to the tumult!
+Life's in the field!
+Damsel and fortress
+To us must yield.
+Bold is the venture,
+Costly the pay!
+Gaily the soldier
+Marches away.
+
+FAUST _and_ WAGNER
+
+FAUST
+
+Loosed from their fetters are streams and rills
+Through the gracious spring-tide's all-quickening glow;
+Hope's budding joy in the vale doth blow;
+Old Winter back to the savage hills
+Withdraweth his force, decrepid now.
+Thence only impotent icy grains
+Scatters he as he wings his flight,
+Striping with sleet the verdant plains;
+But the sun endureth no trace of white;
+Everywhere growth and movement are rife,
+All things investing with hues of life
+Though flowers are lacking, varied of dye,
+Their colors the motley throng supply.
+Turn thee around, and, from this height,
+Back to the town direct thy sight.
+Forth from the hollow, gloomy gate,
+Stream forth the masses, in bright array.
+Gladly seek they the sun today;
+
+The Lord's Resurrection they celebrate:
+For they themselves have risen, with joy,
+From tenement sordid, from cheerless room,
+From bonds of toil, from care and annoy,
+From gable and roof's o'erhanging gloom,
+From crowded alley and narrow street,
+And from the churches' awe-breathing night
+All now have come forth into the light.
+Look, only look, on nimble feet,
+Through garden and field how spread the throng,
+How o'er the river's ample sheet
+Many a gay wherry glides along;
+And see, deep sinking in the tide,
+Pushes the last boat now away.
+E'en from yon far hill's path-worn side,
+Flash the bright hues of garments gay.
+Hark! Sounds of village mirth arise;
+This is the people's paradise.
+Both great and small send up a cheer;
+Here am I man, I feel it here.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Sir Doctor, in a walk with you
+There's honor and instruction too;
+Yet here alone I care not to resort,
+Because I coarseness hate of every sort.
+This fiddling, shouting, skittling, I detest;
+I hate the tumult of the vulgar throng;
+They roar as by the evil one possess'd,
+And call it pleasure, call it song.
+
+PEASANTS (_under the linden-tree_)
+
+_Dance and Sing_.
+
+  The shepherd for the dance was dress'd,
+  With ribbon, wreath, and colored vest,
+  A gallant show displaying.
+  And round about the linden-tree,
+
+  They footed it right merrily.
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  So fiddle-bow was braying.
+  Our swain amidst the circle press'd,
+  He push'd a maiden trimly dress'd,
+  And jogg'd her with his elbow;
+  The buxom damsel turn'd her head,
+  "Now that's a stupid trick!" she said,
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  Don't be so rude, good fellow!
+
+  Swift in the circle they advanced,
+  They danced to right, to left they danced,
+  And all the skirts were swinging.
+  And they grew red, and they grew warm,
+  Panting, they rested arm in arm,
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  To hip their elbow bringing.
+
+  Don't make so free! How many a maid
+  Has been betroth'd and then betray'd;
+  And has repented after!
+  Yet still he flatter'd her aside,
+  And from the linden, far and wide,
+   Juchhe! Juchhe!
+   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
+  Rang fiddle-bow and laughter.
+
+OLD PEASANT
+
+Doctor, 'tis really kind of you,
+To condescend to come this way,
+A highly learned man like you,
+To join our mirthful throng today.
+Our fairest cup I offer you,
+Which we with sparkling drink have crown'd,
+And pledging you, I pray aloud,
+That every drop within its round,
+While it your present thirst allays,
+May swell the number of your days.
+
+FAUST
+
+I take the cup you kindly reach,
+Thanks and prosperity to each!
+[_The crowd gather round in a circle_.]
+
+OLD PEASANT
+
+Ay, truly! 'tis well done, that you
+Our festive meeting thus attend;
+You, who in evil days of yore,
+So often show'd yourself our friend!
+Full many a one stands living here,
+Who from the fever's deadly blast
+Your father rescu'd, when his skill
+The fatal sickness stay'd at last.
+A young man then, each house you sought,
+Where reign'd the mortal pestilence.
+Corpse after corpse was carried forth,
+But still unscath'd you issued thence.
+Sore then your trials and severe;
+The Helper yonder aids the helper here.
+
+ALL
+
+Heaven bless the trusty friend, and long
+To help the poor his life prolong!
+
+FAUST
+
+To Him above in homage bend,
+Who prompts the helper and Who help doth send.
+[_He proceeds with_ WAGNER.]
+
+WAGNER
+
+What feelings, great man, must thy breast inspire,
+At homage paid thee by this crowd! Thrice blest
+Who from the gifts by him possessed
+Such benefit can draw! The sire
+Thee to his boy with reverence shows,
+
+They press around, inquire, advance,
+Hush'd is the fiddle, check'd the dance.
+Where thou dost pass they stand in rows,
+And each aloft his bonnet throws,
+But little fails and they to thee,
+As though the Host came by, would bend the knee.
+
+FAUST
+
+A few steps further, up to yonder stone!
+Here rest we from our walk. In times long past,
+Absorb'd in thought, here oft I sat alone,
+And disciplin'd myself with prayer and fast.
+Then rich in hope, with faith sincere,
+With sighs, and hands in anguish press'd,
+The end of that sore plague, with many a tear,
+From heaven's dread Lord, I sought to wrest.
+The crowd's applause assumes a scornful tone.
+Oh, could'st thou in my inner being read
+How little either sire or son
+Of such renown deserves the meed!
+
+My sire, of good repute, and sombre mood,
+O'er nature's powers and every mystic zone,
+With honest zeal, but methods of his own,
+With toil fantastic loved to brood;
+
+His time in dark alchemic cell,
+With brother-adepts he would spend,
+And there antagonists compel
+Through numberless receipts to blend.
+A ruddy lion there, a suitor bold,
+In tepid bath was with the lily wed.
+Thence both, while open flames around them roll'd,
+Were tortur'd to another bridal bed.
+
+Was then the youthful queen descried
+With varied colors in the flask--
+This was our medicine; the patients died;
+"Who were restored?" none cared to ask.
+With our infernal mixture thus, ere long.
+These hills and peaceful vales among
+We rag'd more fiercely than the pest;
+Myself the deadly poison did to thousands give;
+They pined away, I yet must live
+To hear the reckless murderers blest.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Why let this thought your soul o'ercast?
+Can man do more than with nice skill,
+With firm and conscientious will,
+Practise the art transmitted from the past?
+If thou thy sire dost honor in thy youth,
+His lore thou gladly wilt receive;
+In manhood, dost thou spread the bounds of truth,
+Then may thy son a higher goal achieve.
+
+FAUST
+
+How blest, in whom the fond desire
+From error's sea to rise, hope still renews!
+What a man knows not, that he doth require,
+And what he knoweth, that he cannot use.
+But let not moody thoughts their shadow throw
+O'er the calm beauty of this hour serene!
+In the rich sunset see how brightly glow
+Yon cottage homes, girt round with verdant green!
+Slow sinks the orb, the day is now no more;
+Yonder he hastens to diffuse new life.
+Oh for a pinion from the earth to soar,
+And after, ever after him to strive!
+Then should I see the world below,
+Bathed in the deathless evening-beams,
+The vales reposing, every height a-glow,
+The silver brooklets meeting golden streams.
+The savage mountain, with its cavern'd side,
+Bars not my godlike progress. Lo, the ocean,
+Its warm bays heaving with a tranquil motion,
+To my rapt vision opes its ample tide!
+But now at length the god appears to sink
+A new-born impulse wings my flight,
+Onward I press, his quenchless light to drink,
+The day before me, and behind the night,
+The pathless waves beneath, and over me the skies.
+Fair dream, it vanish'd with the parting day!
+Alas! that when on spirit-wing we rise,
+No wing material lifts our mortal clay.
+But 'tis our inborn impulse, deep and strong,
+Upwards and onwards still to urge our flight,
+When far above us pours its thrilling song
+The sky-lark, lost in azure light;
+When on extended wing amain
+O'er pine-crown'd height the eagle soars;
+And over moor and lake, the crane
+Still striveth toward its native shores.
+
+WAGNER
+
+To strange conceits oft I myself must own,
+But impulse such as this I ne'er have known
+Nor woods, nor fields, can long our thoughts engage;
+Their wings I envy not the feather'd kind;
+Far otherwise the pleasures of the mind
+Bear us from book to book, from page to page I
+Then winter nights grow cheerful; keen delight
+Warms every limb; and ah! when we unroll
+Some old and precious parchment, at the sight
+All heaven itself descends upon the soul.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thy heart by one sole impulse is possess'd;
+Unconscious of the other still remain!
+Two souls, alas! are lodg'd within my breast,
+Which struggle there for undivided reign
+One to the world, with obstinate desire,
+And closely-cleaving organs, still adheres;
+Above the mist, the other doth aspire,
+With sacred vehemence, to purer spheres.
+Oh, are there spirits in the air
+Who float 'twixt heaven and earth dominion wielding,
+Stoop hither from your golden atmosphere,
+
+Lead me to scenes, new life and fuller yielding!
+A magic mantle did I but possess,
+Abroad to waft me as on viewless wings,
+I'd prize it far beyond the costliest dress,
+Nor would I change it for the robe of kings.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Call not the spirits who on mischief wait!
+Their troop familiar, streaming through the air,
+From every quarter threaten man's estate,
+And danger in a thousand forms prepare!
+They drive impetuous from the frozen north,
+With fangs sharp-piercing, and keen arrowy tongues;
+From the ungenial east they issue forth,
+And prey, with parching breath, upon thy lungs;
+If, waft'd on the desert's flaming wing,
+They from the south heap fire upon the brain,
+Refreshment from the west at first they bring,
+Anon to drown thyself and field and plain.
+In wait for mischief, they are prompt to hear;
+With guileful purpose our behests obey;
+Like ministers of grace they oft appear,
+And lisp like angels, to betray.
+But let us hence! Gray eve doth all things blend,
+The air grows chill, the mists descend!
+'Tis in the evening first our home we prize--
+Why stand you thus, and gaze with wondering eyes?
+What in the gloom thus moves you?
+
+FAUST
+
+                                  Yon black hound
+See 'st thou, through corn and stubble scampering round?
+
+WAGNER
+
+I've mark'd him long, naught strange in him I see!
+
+FAUST
+
+Note him! What takest thou the brute to be?
+
+WAGNER
+
+But for a poodle, whom his instinct serves
+His master's track to find once more.
+
+FAUST
+
+Dost mark how round us, with wide spiral curves,
+He wheels, each circle closer than before?
+And, if I err not, he appears to me
+A line of 'fire upon his track to leave.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Naught but a poodle black of hue I see;
+'Tis some illusion doth your sight deceive.
+
+FAUST
+
+Methinks a magic coil our feet around,
+He for a future snare doth lightly spread.
+
+WAGNER
+
+Around us as in doubt I see him shyly bound,
+Since he two strangers seeth in his master's stead.
+
+FAUST
+
+The circle narrows, he's already near!
+
+WAGNER
+
+A dog dost see, no spectre have we here;
+He growls, doubts, lays him on his belly too,
+And wags his tail-as dogs are wont to do.
+
+FAUST
+
+Come hither, Sirrah! join our company!
+
+WAGNER
+
+A very poodle, he appears to be!
+Thou standest still, for thee he'll wait;
+Thou speak'st to him, he fawns upon thee straight;
+Aught thou mayst lose, again he'll bring,
+And for thy stick will into water spring.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou'rt right indeed; no traces now I see
+Whatever of a spirit's agency,
+'Tis training--nothing more.
+
+WAGNER
+
+                   A dog well taught
+E'en by the wisest of us may be sought.
+Ay, to your favor he's entitled too,
+Apt scholar of the students, 'tis his due!
+
+[_They enter the gate of the town_.]
+
+STUDY
+
+FAUST (_entering with, the poodle_)
+
+Now field and meadow I've forsaken;
+O'er them deep night her veil doth draw;
+In us the better soul doth waken,
+With feelings of foreboding awe.
+All lawless promptings, deeds unholy,
+Now slumber, and all wild desires;
+The love of man doth sway us wholly,
+And love to God the soul inspires.
+
+Peace, poodle, peace! Scamper not thus; obey me!
+Why at the threshold snuffest thou so?
+Behind the stove now quietly lay thee,
+My softest cushion to thee I'll throw.
+As thou, without, didst please and amuse me,
+Running and frisking about on the hill,
+So tendance now I will not refuse thee;
+A welcome guest, if thou'lt be still.
+
+Ah! when the friendly taper gloweth,
+Once more within our narrow cell,
+Then in the heart itself that knoweth,
+A light the darkness doth dispel.
+Reason her voice resumes; returneth
+Hope's gracious bloom, with promise rife;
+For streams of life the spirit yearneth,
+Ah! for the very fount of life.
+Poodle, snarl not! with the tone that arises,
+Hallow'd and peaceful, my soul within,
+Accords not thy growl, thy bestial din.
+We find it not strange, that man despises
+What he conceives not;
+That he the good and fair misprizes--
+Finding them often beyond his ken;
+Will the dog snarl at them like men?
+
+But ah! Despite my will, it stands confessed;
+Contentment welleth up no longer in my breast.
+Yet wherefore must the stream, alas, so soon be dry,
+That we once more athirst should lie?
+Full oft this sad experience hath been mine;
+Nathless the want admits of compensation;
+For things above the earth we learn to pine,
+Our spirits yearn for revelation,
+Which nowhere burns with purer beauty blent,
+Than here in the New Testament.
+To ope the ancient text an impulse strong
+Impels me, and its sacred lore,
+With honest purpose to explore,
+And render into my loved German tongue.
+
+[_He opens a volume and applies himself to it_.]
+
+'Tis writ, "In the beginning was the Word!"
+I pause, perplex'd! Who now will help afford?
+I cannot the mere Word so highly prize;
+I must translate it otherwise,
+If by the spirit guided as I read.
+"In the beginning was the Sense!" Take heed,
+The import of this primal sentence weigh,
+Lest thy too hasty pen be led astray!
+Is force creative then of Sense the dower?
+"In the beginning was the Power!"
+Thus should it stand: yet, while the line I trace,
+A something warns me, once more to efface.
+The spirit aids! from anxious scruples freed,
+I write, "In the beginning was the Deed!"
+
+Am I with thee my room to share,
+Poodle, thy barking now forbear,
+Forbear thy howling!
+Comrade so noisy, ever growling,
+I cannot suffer here to dwell.
+One or the other, mark me well,
+Forthwith must leave the cell.
+I'm loath the guest-right to withhold;
+The door's ajar, the passage clear;
+But what must now mine eyes behold!
+Are nature's laws suspended here?
+Real is it, or a phantom show?
+In length and breadth how doth my poodle grow!
+He lifts himself with threat'ning mien,
+In likeness of a dog no longer seen!
+What spectre have I harbor'd thus!
+Huge as a hippopotamus,
+With fiery eye, terrific tooth!
+Ah! now I know thee, sure enough!
+For such a base, half-hellish brood,
+The key of Solomon is good.
+
+SPIRITS (_without_)
+
+Captur'd there within is one!
+Stay without and follow none!
+Like a fox in iron snare,
+Hell's old lynx is quaking there,
+ But take heed'!
+Hover round, above, below,
+ To and fro,
+Then from durance is he freed!
+Can ye aid him, spirits all,
+Leave him not in mortal thrall!
+Many a time and oft hath he
+Served us, when at liberty.
+
+FAUST
+
+The monster to confront, at first,
+The spell of Four must be rehears'd;
+
+ Salamander shall kindle,
+ Writhe nymph of the wave,
+ In air sylph shall dwindle,
+ And Kobold shall slave.
+
+Who doth ignore
+The primal Four,
+Nor knows aright
+Their use and might,
+O'er spirits will he
+Ne'er master be!
+
+ Vanish in the fiery glow,
+ Salamander!
+ Rushingly together flow,
+ Undine!
+ Shimmer in the meteor's gleam,
+ Sylphide!
+ Hither bring thine homely aid,
+ Incubus! Incubus!
+ Step forth! I do adjure thee thus!
+
+None of the Four
+Lurks in the beast;
+He grins at me, untroubled as before;
+I have not hurt him in the least.
+A spell of fear
+Thou now shalt hear.
+
+ Art thou, comrade fell,
+ Fugitive from Hell?
+ See then this sign,
+ Before which incline
+ The murky troops of Hell!
+With bristling hair now doth the creature swell.
+
+ Canst thou, reprobate,
+ Read the uncreate,
+ Unspeakable, diffused
+ Throughout the heavenly sphere,
+ Shamefully abused,
+ Transpierced with nail and spear!
+
+Behind the stove, tam'd by my spells,
+Like an elephant he swells;
+Wholly now he fills the room,
+He into mist will melt away.
+Ascend not to the ceiling! Come,
+Thyself at the master's feet now lay!
+Thou seest that mine is no idle threat.
+With holy fire I will scorch thee yet!
+Wait not the might
+That lies in the triple-glowing light!
+Wait not the might
+Of all my arts in fullest measure!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_as the mist sinks, comes forward from
+behind the stove, in the dress of a traveling scholar_)
+
+Why all this uproar? What's the master's pleasure?
+
+FAUST
+
+This then the kernel of the brute!
+A traveling scholar? Why I needs must smile.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Your learned reverence humbly I salute!
+You've made me swelter in a pretty style.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thy name?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+         The question trifling seems from one,
+Who it appears the Word doth rate so low;
+Who, undeluded by mere outward show,
+To Being's depths would penetrate alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+With gentlemen like you indeed
+The inward essence from the name we read,
+As all too plainly it doth appear,
+When Beelzebub, Destroyer, Liar, meets the ear.
+Who then art thou?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+           Part of that power which still
+Produceth good, whilst ever scheming ill.
+
+FAUST
+
+What hidden mystery in this riddle lies?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The spirit I, which evermore denies!
+And justly; for whate'er to light is brought
+Deserves again to be reduced to naught;
+Then better 'twere that naught should be.
+Thus all the elements which ye
+Destruction, Sin, or briefly, Evil, name,
+As my peculiar element I claim.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou nam'st thyself a part, and yet a whole I see.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The modest truth I speak to thee.
+Though folly's microcosm, man, it seems,
+Himself to be a perfect whole esteems:
+Part of the part am I, which at the first was all,
+A part of darkness, which gave birth to light--
+Proud light, who now his mother would enthrall,
+Contesting space and ancient rank with night.
+Yet he succeedeth not, for struggle as he will,
+To forms material he adhereth still;
+From them he streameth, them he maketh fair,
+And still the progress of his beams they check;
+And so, I trust, when comes the final wreck,
+Light will, ere long, the doom of matter share.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thy worthy avocation now I guess!
+Wholesale annihilation won't prevail,
+So thou'rt beginning on a smaller scale.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And, to say truth, as yet with small success.
+Oppos'd to naught, this clumsy world,
+The something--it subsisteth still;
+Not yet is it to ruin hurl'd,
+Despite the efforts of my will.
+Tempests and earthquakes, fire and flood, I've tried;
+Yet land and ocean still unchang'd abide!
+And then of humankind and beasts, the accursed brood,--
+Neither o'er them can I extend my sway.
+What countless myriads have I swept away!
+Yet ever circulates the fresh young blood.
+It is enough to drive me to despair!
+As in the earth, in water, and in air,
+A thousand germs burst forth spontaneously;
+In moisture, drought, heat, cold, they still appear!
+Had I not flame selected as my sphere,
+Nothing apart had been reserved for me.
+
+FAUST
+
+So thou with thy cold devil's fist,
+Still clench'd in malice impotent,
+Dost the creative power resist,
+The active, the beneficent!
+Henceforth some other task essay,
+Of Chaos thou the wondrous son!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We will consider what you say,
+And talk about it more anon!
+For this time have I leave to go?
+
+FAUST
+
+Why thou shouldst ask, I cannot see.
+Since thee I now have learned to know,
+
+At thy good pleasure, visit me.
+Here is the window, here the door,
+The chimney, too, may serve thy need.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I must confess, my stepping o'er
+Thy threshold a slight hindrance doth impede;
+The wizard-foot doth me retain.
+
+FAUST
+
+The pentagram thy peace doth mart
+To me, thou son of hell, explain,
+How camest thou in, if this thine exit bar?
+Could such a spirit aught ensnare?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Observe it well, it is not drawn with care;
+One of the angles, that which points without,
+Is, as thou seest, not quite closed.
+
+FAUST
+
+Chance hath the matter happily dispos'd!
+So thou my captive art? No doubt!
+By accident thou thus art caught!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In sprang the dog, indeed, observing naught;
+Things now assume another shape,
+The devil's in the house and can't escape.
+
+FAUST
+
+Why through the window not withdraw?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+For ghosts and for the devil 'tis a law,
+Where they stole in, there they must forth. We're free
+The first to choose; as to the second, slaves are we.
+
+FAUST
+
+E'en hell hath its peculiar laws, I see!
+I'm glad of that! a pact may then be made,
+The which you gentlemen will surely keep?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Whate'er therein is promised thou shalt reap,
+No tittle shall remain unpaid.
+But such arrangements time require;
+We'll speak of them when next we meet;
+Most earnestly I now entreat,
+This once permission to retire.
+
+FAUST
+
+Another moment prithee here remain,
+Me with some happy word to pleasure.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now let me go! Ere long I'll come again;
+Then thou may'st question at thy leisure.
+
+FAUST
+
+'Twas not my purpose thee to lime;
+The snare hast entered of thine own free will:
+Let him who holds the devil, hold him still!
+So soon he'll catch him not a second time.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If it so please thee, I'm at thy command;
+Only on this condition, understand;
+That worthily thy leisure to beguile,
+I here may exercise my arts awhile.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou'rt free to do so! Gladly I'll attend;
+But be thine art a pleasant one!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ My friend,
+This hour enjoyment more intense
+Shall captivate each ravish'd sense,
+Than thou could'st compass in the bound
+Of the whole year's unvarying round;
+And what the dainty spirits sing,
+The lovely images they bring,
+Are no fantastic sorcery.
+Rich odors shall regale your smell,
+On choicest sweets your palate dwell,
+Your feelings thrill with ecstasy.
+No preparation do we need,
+Here we together are. Proceed.
+
+SPIRITS
+
+ Hence overshadowing gloom,
+ Vanish from sight!
+ O'er us thine azure dome,
+ Bend, beauteous light!
+ Dark clouds that o'er us spread,
+ Melt in thin air!
+ Stars, your soft radiance shed,
+ Tender and fair!
+ Girt with celestial might,
+ Winging their airy flight,
+ Spirits are thronging.
+ Follows their forms of light
+ Infinite longing!
+ Flutter their vestures bright
+ O'er field and grove!
+ Where in their leafy bower
+ Lovers the livelong hour
+ Vow deathless love.
+ Soft bloometh bud and bower!
+ Bloometh the grove!
+ Grapes from the spreading vine
+ Crown the full measure;
+ Fountains of foaming wine
+ Gush from the pressure.
+ Still where the currents wind,
+ Gems brightly gleam;
+ Leaving the hills behind
+ On rolls the stream;
+ Now into ample seas,
+
+ Spreadeth the flood--
+ Laving the sunny leas,
+ Mantled with wood.
+
+[Illustration: FAUST AND MEPHISTO Liezen-Mayer]
+
+ Rapture the feather'd throng,
+ Gaily careering,
+ Sip as they float along;
+ Sunward they're steering;
+ On toward the isles of light
+ Winging their way,
+ That on the waters bright
+ Dancingly play.
+ Hark to the choral strain,
+ Joyfully ringing!
+ While on the grassy plain
+ Dancers are springing;
+ Climbing the steep hill's side,
+ Skimming the glassy tide,
+ Wander they there;
+ Others on pinions wide
+ Wing the blue air;
+ All lifeward tending, upward still wending,
+ Toward yonder stars that gleam,
+ Far, far above;
+ Stars from whose tender beam
+ Rains blissful love.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Well done, my dainty spirits! now he slumbers!
+Ye have entranc'd him fairly with your numbers!
+This minstrelsy of yours I must repay.--
+Thou art not yet the man to hold the devil fast!--
+With fairest shapes your spells around him cast,
+And plunge him in a sea of dreams!
+But that this charm be rent, the threshold passed,
+Tooth of rat the way must clear.
+I need not conjure long it seems,
+One rustles hitherward, and soon my voice will hear.
+The master of the rats and mice,
+Of flies and frogs, of bugs and lice,
+Commands thy presence; without fear
+Come forth and gnaw the threshold here,
+Where he with oil has smear'd it.--Thou
+Com'st hopping forth already! Now
+To work! The point that holds me bound
+Is in the outer angle found.
+Another bite--so--now 'tis done--
+Now, Faustus, till we meet again, dream on.
+
+FAUST (_awaking_)
+
+Am I once more deluded! must I deem
+That thus the throng of spirits disappear?
+The devil's presence--was it but a dream?
+Hath but a poodle scap'd and left me here?
+
+
+STUDY
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+A knock? Come in! Who now would break my rest?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis I!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Come in!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Thrice be the words express'd.
+
+FAUST
+
+Then I repeat, Come in!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ 'Tis well,
+I hope that we shall soon agree!
+For now your fancies to expel,
+Here, as a youth of high degree,
+I come in gold-lac'd scarlet vest,
+And stiff-silk mantle richly dress'd,
+A cock's gay feather for a plume,
+A long and pointed rapier, too;
+And briefly I would counsel you
+To don at once the same costume,
+And, free from trammels, speed away,
+That what life is you may essay.
+
+FAUST
+
+In every garb I needs must feel oppress'd,
+My heart to earth's low cares a prey.
+Too old the trifler's part to play,
+Too young to live by no desire possess'd.
+What can the world to me afford?
+Renounce! renounce! is still the word;
+This is the everlasting song
+In every ear that ceaseless rings,
+And which, alas, our whole life long,
+Hoarsely each passing moment sings.
+But to new horror I awake each morn,
+And I could weep hot tears, to see the sun
+Dawn on another day, whose round forlorn
+Accomplishes no wish of mine--not one.
+Which still, with froward captiousness, impains
+E'en the presentiment of every joy,
+While low realities and paltry cares
+The spirit's fond imaginings destroy.
+Then must I too, when falls the veil of night,
+Stretch'd on my pallet languish in despair.
+Appalling dreams my soul affright;
+No rest vouchsafed me even there.
+The god, who throned within my breast resides,
+Deep in my soul can stir the springs;
+With sovereign sway my energies he guides,
+He cannot move external things;
+And so existence is to me a weight,
+Death fondly I desire, and life I hate.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And yet, methinks, by most 'twill be confess'd
+That Death is never quite a welcome guest.
+
+FAUST
+
+Happy the man around whose brow he binds
+The bloodstain'd wreath in conquest's dazzling hour;
+Or whom, excited by the dance, he finds
+Dissolv'd in bliss, in love's delicious bower!
+O that before the lofty spirit's might,
+Enraptured, I had rendered up my soul!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Yet did a certain man refrain one night
+Of its brown juice to drain the crystal bowl.
+
+FAUST
+
+To play the spy diverts you then?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I own,
+Though not omniscient, much to me is known.
+
+FAUST
+
+If o'er my soul the tone familiar, stealing,
+Drew me from harrowing thought's bewild'ring maze,
+Touching the ling'ring chords of childlike feeling,
+With the sweet harmonies of happier days:
+So curse I all, around the soul that windeth
+Its magic and alluring spell,
+And with delusive flattery bindeth
+Its victim to this dreary cell!
+Curs'd before all things be the high opinion
+Wherewith the spirit girds itself around!
+Of shows delusive curs'd be the dominion,
+Within whose mocking sphere our sense is bound!
+Accurs'd of dreams the treacherous wiles,
+The cheat of glory, deathless fame!
+Accurs'd what each as property beguiles,
+Wife, child, slave, plough, whate'er its name!
+Accurs'd be mammon, when with treasure
+He doth to daring deeds incite:
+Or when to steep the soul in pleasure,
+He spreads the couch of soft delight!
+Curs'd be the grape's balsamic juice!
+Accurs'd love's dream, of joys the first!
+Accurs'd be hope! accurs'd be faith!
+And more than all, be patience curs'd!
+
+CHORUS OF SPIRITS (_invisible_)
+
+ Woe! woe!
+ Thou hast destroy'd
+ The beautiful world
+ With violent blow;
+ 'Tis shiver'd! 'tis shatter'd!
+ The fragments abroad by a demigod scatter'd!
+ Now we sweep
+ The wrecks into nothingness!
+ Fondly we weep
+ The beauty that's gone!
+ Thou, 'mongst the sons of earth,
+ Lofty and mighty one,
+ Build it once more!
+ In thine own bosom the lost world restore!
+ Now with unclouded sense
+ Enter a new career;
+ Songs shall salute thine ear,
+ Ne'er heard before!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+My little ones these spirits be.
+Hark! with shrewd intelligence,
+How they recommend to thee
+Action, and the joys of sense!
+In the busy world to dwell,
+Fain they would allure thee hence
+For within this lonely cell,
+Stagnate sap of life and sense.
+Forbear to trifle longer with thy grief,
+Which, vulture-like, consumes thee in this den.
+The worst society is some relief,
+Making thee feel thyself a man with men.
+Nathless, it is not meant, I trow,
+To thrust thee 'mid the vulgar throng.
+I to the upper ranks do not belong;
+Yet if, by me companion'd, thou
+Thy steps through life forthwith wilt take,
+Upon the spot myself I'll make
+Thy comrade;--Should it suit thy need,
+I am thy servant, am thy slave indeed!
+
+FAUST
+
+And how must I thy services repay?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Thereto thou lengthen'd respite hast!
+
+FAUST
+ No! no!
+The devil is an egoist I know
+And, for Heaven's sake, 'tis not his way
+Kindness to any one to show.
+Let the condition plainly be exprest!
+Such a domestic is a dangerous guest.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'll pledge myself to be thy servant _here_,
+Still at thy back alert and prompt to be;
+But when together _yonder_ we appear,
+Then shalt thou do the same for me.
+
+FAUST
+
+But small concern I feel for yonder world;
+Hast thou this system into ruin hurl'd,
+Another may arise the void to fill.
+This earth the fountain whence my pleasures flow,
+This sun doth daily shine upon my woe,
+And if this world I must forego,
+Let happen then,--what can and will.
+I to this theme will close mine ears,
+If men hereafter hate and love,
+And if there be in yonder spheres
+A depth below or height above.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In this mood thou mayst venture it. But make
+The compact! I at once will undertake
+To charm thee with mine arts. I'll give thee more
+Than mortal eve hath e'er beheld before.
+
+FAUST
+
+What, sorry Devil, hast thou to bestow?
+Was ever mortal spirit, in its high endeavor,
+Fathom'd by Being such as thou?
+Yet food thou least which satisfieth never;
+Hast ruddy gold, that still doth flow
+Like restless quicksilver away;
+A game thou hast, at which none win who play--
+A girl who would, with amorous eyen,
+E'en from my breast a neighbor snare,
+Lofty ambition's joy divine,
+That, meteor-like, dissolves in air.
+Show me the fruit that, ere 'tis pluck'd, doth rot,
+And trees, whose verdure daily buds anew!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Such a commission scares me not;
+I can provide such treasures, it is true.
+But, my good friend, a season will come round
+When on what's good we may regale in peace.
+
+FAUST
+
+If e'er upon my couch, stretched at my ease, I'm found,
+Then may my life that instant cease!
+Me canst thou cheat with glozing wile
+Till self-reproach away I cast,--
+Me with joy's lure canst thou beguile;--
+Let that day be for me the last!
+Be this our wager!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Settled!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Sure and fast!
+When to the moment I shall say,
+"Linger awhile! so fair thou art!"
+Then mayst thou fetter me straightway,
+Then to the abyss will I depart!
+Then may the solemn death-bell sound,
+Then from thy service thou art free,
+The index then may cease its round,
+And time be never more for me!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I shall remember: pause, ere 'tis too late.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thereto a perfect right hast thou.
+My strength I do not rashly overrate.
+Slave am I here, at any rate,
+If thine, or whose, it matters not, I trow.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+At thine inaugural feast I will this day
+Attend, my duties to commence.--But one thing!--
+Accidents may happen, hence
+A line or two in writing grant, I pray.
+
+FAUST
+
+A writing, Pedant! dost demand from me?
+Man, and man's plighted word, are these unknown to thee?
+Is't not enough, that by the word I gave,
+My doom for evermore is cast?
+Doth not the world in all its currents rave,
+And must a promise hold me fast?
+Yet fixed is this delusion in our heart;
+Who, of his own free will, therefrom would part?
+How blest within whose breast truth reigneth pure!
+No sacrifice will he repent when made!
+A formal deed, with seal and signature,
+A spectre this from which all shrink afraid.
+The word its life resigneth in the pen,
+Leather and wax usurp the mastery then.
+Spirits of evil! what dost thou require?
+Brass, marble, parchment, paper, dost desire?
+Shall I with chisel, pen, or graver write?
+Thy choice is free; to me 'tis all the same.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Wherefore thy passion so excite,
+And thus thine eloquence inflame?
+A scrap is for our compact good.
+Thou under-signest merely with a drop of blood.
+
+FAUST
+
+If this will satisfy thy mind,
+Thy whim I'll gratify, howe'er absurd.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Blood is a juice of very special kind.
+
+FAUST
+
+Be not afraid that I shall break my word!
+The scope of all my energy
+Is in exact accordance with my vow.
+Vainly I have aspired too high;
+I'm on a level but with such as thou;
+Me the great spirit scorn'd, defied;
+Nature from me herself doth hide;
+Rent is the web of thought; my mind
+Doth knowledge loathe of every kind.
+In depths of sensual pleasure drown'd,
+Let us our fiery passions still!
+Enwrapp'd in magic's veil profound,
+Let wondrous charms our senses thrill!
+Plunge we in time's tempestuous flow,
+Stem we the rolling surge of chance!
+There may alternate weal and woe,
+Success and failure, as they can,
+Mingle and shift in changeful dance!
+Excitement is the sphere for man.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Nor goal, nor measure is prescrib'd to you,
+If you desire to taste of every thing,
+To snatch at joy while on the wing,
+May your career amuse and profit too!
+Only fall to and don't be over coy!
+
+FAUST
+
+Hearken! The end I aim at is not joy;
+I crave excitement, agonizing bliss,
+Enamor'd hatred, quickening vexation.
+Purg'd from the love of knowledge, my vocation,
+The scope of all my powers henceforth be this,
+To bare my breast to every pang,--to know
+In my heart's core all human weal and woe,
+To grasp in thought the lofty and the deep,
+Men's various fortunes on my breast to heap,
+And thus to theirs dilate my individual mind,
+And share at length with them the shipwreck of mankind.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh, credit me, who still as ages roll,
+Have chew'd this bitter fare from year to year,
+No mortal, from the cradle to the bier,
+Digests the ancient leaven! Know, this Whole
+Doth for the Deity alone subsist!
+He in eternal brightness doth exist;
+Us unto darkness he hath brought, and here,
+Where day and night alternate, is your sphere.
+
+FAUST
+
+But 'tis my will!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Well spoken, I admit!
+But one thing puzzles me, my friend;
+Time's short, art long; methinks 'twere fit
+That you to friendly counsel should attend.
+A poet choose as your ally!
+Let him thought's wide dominion sweep,
+Each good and noble quality
+Upon your honored brow to heap;
+The lion's magnanimity,
+The fleetness of the hind,
+The fiery blood of Italy,
+The Northern's stedfast mind.
+Let him to you the mystery show
+To blend high aims and cunning low;
+And while youth's passions are aflame
+To fall in love by rule and plan!
+I fain would meet with such a man;
+Would him Sir Microcosmus name.
+
+FAUST
+
+What then am I, if I aspire in vain
+The crown of our humanity to gain,
+Toward which my every sense doth strain?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Thou'rt after all--just what thou art.
+Put on thy head a wig with countless locks,
+And to a cubit's height upraise thy socks,
+Still thou remainest ever, what thou art.
+
+FAUST
+
+I feel it, I have heap'd upon my brain
+The gather'd treasure of man's thought in vain;
+And when at length from studious toil I rest,
+No power, new-born, springs up within my breast;
+A hair's breadth is not added to my height;
+I am no nearer to the infinite.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Good sir, these things you view indeed,
+Just as by other men they're view'd;
+We must more cleverly proceed,
+Before life's joys our grasp elude.
+The devil! thou hast hands and feet,
+And head and heart are also thine;
+What I enjoy with relish sweet--
+Is it on that account less mine?
+If for six stallions I can pay,
+Do I not own their strength and speed?
+A proper man I dash away,
+As their two dozen legs were mine indeed.
+Up then, from idle pondering free,
+And forth into the world with me!
+I tell you what;--your speculative churl
+Is like a beast which some ill spirit leads,
+On barren wilderness, in ceaseless whirl,
+While all around lie fair and verdant meads.
+
+FAUST
+
+But how shall we begin?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+ We will go hence with speed,
+A place of torment this indeed!
+A precious life, thyself to bore,
+And some few youngsters evermore!
+Leave that to neighbor Paunch! Withdraw?
+Why wilt thou plague thyself with thrashing straw?
+The very best that thou dost know
+Thou dar'st not to the striplings show.
+One in the passage now doth wait!
+
+FAUST
+
+I'm in no mood to see him now.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Poor lad! He must be tired, I trow;
+He must not go disconsolate.
+Hand me thy cap and gown; the mask
+Is for my purpose quite first rate.
+
+[_He changes his dress._]
+
+Now leave it to my wit! I ask
+But quarter of an hour; meanwhile equip,
+And make all ready for our pleasant trip!
+
+[_Exit_ FAUST.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_in_ FAUST'S _long gown_)
+
+Mortal! the loftiest attributes of men,
+Reason and Knowledge, only thus contemn;
+Still let the Prince of lies, without control,
+With shows, and mocking charms delude thy soul,
+I have thee unconditionally then!--
+Fate hath endow'd him with an ardent mind,
+Which unrestrain'd still presses on forever,
+And whose precipitate endeavor
+Earth's joys o'erleaping, leaveth them behind.
+Him will I drag through life's wild waste,
+Through scenes of vapid dulness, where at last
+Bewilder'd, he shall falter, and stick fast;
+And, still to mock his greedy haste,
+Viands and drink shall float his craving lips beyond--
+Vainly he'll seek refreshment, anguish-tost,
+And were he not the devil's by his bond,
+Yet must his soul infallibly be lost!
+
+A STUDENT _enters_.
+
+STUDENT
+
+But recently I've quitted home,
+Full of devotion am I come
+A man to know and hear, whose name
+With reverence is known to fame.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Your courtesy much flatters me!
+A man like other men you see;
+Pray have you yet applied elsewhere?
+
+STUDENT
+
+I would entreat your friendly care!
+I've youthful blood and courage high;
+Of gold I bring a fair supply;
+To let me go my mother was not fain;
+But here I longed true knowledge to attain.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You've hit upon the very place.
+
+STUDENT
+
+And yet my steps I would retrace.
+These walls, this melancholy room,
+O'erpower me with a sense of gloom;
+The space is narrow, nothing green,
+No friendly tree is to be seen
+And in these halls, with benches filled, distraught,
+Sight, hearing fail me, and the power of thought.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+It all depends on habit. Thus at first
+The infant takes not kindly to the breast,
+But before long, its eager thirst
+Is fain to slake with hearty zest:
+Thus at the breasts of wisdom day by day
+With keener relish you'll your thirst allay.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Upon her neck I fain would hang with joy;
+To reach it, say, what means must I employ?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Explain, ere further time we lose,
+What special faculty you choose?
+
+STUDENT
+
+Profoundly learned I would grow,
+What heaven contains would comprehend,
+O'er earth's wide realm my gaze extend,
+Nature and science I desire to know.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You are upon the proper track, I find;
+Take heed, let nothing dissipate your mind.
+
+STUDENT
+
+My heart and soul are in the chase!
+Though, to be sure, I fain would seize,
+On pleasant summer holidays,
+A little liberty and careless ease.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Use well your time, so rapidly it flies;
+Method will teach you time to win;
+Hence, my young friend, I would advise,
+With college logic to begin!
+Then will your mind be so well braced,
+In Spanish boots so tightly laced,
+That on 'twill circumspectly creep,
+Thought's beaten track securely keep,
+Nor will it, ignis-fatuus like,
+Into the path of error strike.
+Then many a day they'll teach you how
+The mind's spontaneous acts, till now
+As eating and as drinking free,
+Require a process;--one! two! three!
+In truth the subtle web of thought
+Is like the weaver's fabric wrought:
+One treadle moves a thousand lines,
+Swift dart the shuttles to and fro,
+Unseen the threads together flow,
+A thousand knots one stroke combines.
+Then forward steps your sage to show,
+And prove to you, it must be so;
+The first being so, and so the second,
+The third and fourth deduc'd we see;
+And if there were no first and second,
+Nor third nor fourth would ever be.
+This, scholars of all countries prize,--
+Yet 'mong themselves no weavers rise.
+He who would know and treat of aught alive,
+Seeks first the living spirit thence to drive:
+Then are the lifeless fragments in his hand,
+There only fails, alas! the spirit-band.
+This process, chemists name, in learned thesis,
+Mocking themselves, _Naturae encheiresis_.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Your words I cannot fully comprehend.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In a short time you will improve, my friend,
+When of scholastic forms you learn the use;
+And how by method all things to reduce.
+
+STUDENT
+
+So doth all this my brain confound,
+As if a mill-wheel there were turning round.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And next, before aught else you learn,
+You must with zeal to metaphysics turn!
+There see that you profoundly comprehend
+What doth the limit of man's brain transcend;
+For that which is or is not in the head
+A sounding phrase will serve you in good stead.
+But before all strive this half year
+From one fix'd order ne'er to swerve!
+Five lectures daily you must hear;
+The hour still punctually observe!
+Yourself with studious zeal prepare,
+And closely in your manual look,
+Hereby may you be quite aware
+That all he utters standeth in the book;
+Yet write away without cessation,
+As at the Holy Ghost's dictation!
+
+STUDENT
+
+This, Sir, a second time you need not say!
+Your counsel I appreciate quite;
+What we possess in black and white
+We can in peace and comfort bear away.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A faculty I pray you name.
+
+STUDENT
+
+For jurisprudence some distaste I own.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+To me this branch of science is well known,
+And hence I cannot your repugnance blame.
+Customs and laws in every place,
+Like a disease, and heir-loom dread,
+Still trail their curse from race to race,
+And furtively abroad they spread.
+To nonsense, reason's self they turn;
+Beneficence becomes a pest;
+Woe unto thee, that thou'rt a grandson born!
+As for the law born with us, unexpressed;--
+That law, alas, none careth to discern.
+
+STUDENT
+
+You deepen my dislike. The youth
+Whom you instruct, is blest in sooth!
+To try theology I feel inclined.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I would not lead you willingly astray,
+But as regards this science, you will find
+So hard it is to shun the erring way,
+And so much hidden poison lies therein
+Which scarce can you discern from medicine.
+Here too it is the best, to listen but to one,
+And by the master's words to swear alone.
+To sum up all--To words hold fast!
+Then the safe gate securely pass'd,
+You'll reach the fane of certainty at last.
+
+STUDENT
+
+But then some meaning must the words convey.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Right! But o'er-anxious thought you'll find of no avail;
+For there precisely where ideas fail,
+A word comes opportunely into play;
+Most admirable weapons words are found,
+On words a system we securely ground,
+In words we can conveniently believe,
+Nor of a single jot can we a word bereave.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Your pardon for my importunity;
+Yet once more must I trouble you:
+On medicine, I'll thank you to supply
+A pregnant utterance or two!
+Three years! how brief the appointed tide!
+The field, heaven knows, is all too wide!
+If but a friendly hint be thrown,
+'Tis easier than to feel one's way.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+I'm weary of the dry pedantic tone,
+And must again the genuine devil play.
+
+(_Aloud_)
+
+Of medicine the spirit's caught with ease,
+The great and little world you study through,
+That things may then their course pursue,
+As heaven may please.
+In vain abroad you range through science's ample space,
+Each man learns only that which learn he can;
+Who knows the moment to embrace,
+He is your proper man.
+In person you are tolerably made,
+Nor in assurance will you be deficient:
+Self-confidence acquire, be not afraid,
+Others will then esteem you a proficient.
+Learn chiefly with the sex to deal!
+Their thousand ahs and ohs,
+These the sage doctor knows,
+He only from one point can heal.
+Assume a decent tone of courteous ease,
+You have them then to humor as you please.
+First a diploma must belief infuse,
+That you in your profession take the lead:
+You then at once those easy freedoms use
+For which another many a year must plead;
+Learn how to feel with nice address
+The dainty wrist;--and how to press,
+With ardent, furtive glance, the slender waist,
+To feel how tightly it is laced.
+
+STUDENT
+
+There is some sense in that! one sees the how and why.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gray is, young friend, all theory:
+And green of life the golden tree.
+
+STUDENT
+
+I swear it seemeth like a dream to me.
+May I some future time repeat my visit,
+To hear on what your wisdom grounds your views?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Command my humble service when you choose.
+
+STUDENT
+
+Ere I retire, one boon I must solicit:
+Here is my album; do not, Sir, deny
+This token of your favor!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Willingly!
+
+[_He writes and returns the book._]
+
+STUDENT (_reads_)
+
+ ERITIS SICUT DEUS, SCIENTES BONUM ET MALUM
+
+[_He reverently closes the book and retires._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Let but this ancient proverb be your rule,
+My cousin follow still, the wily snake,
+And with your likeness to the gods, poor fool,
+Ere long be sure your poor sick heart will quake!
+
+FAUST (_enters_)
+
+Whither away?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ 'Tis thine our course to steer.
+The little world, and then the great we'll view.
+With what delight, what profit too,
+Thou'lt revel through thy gay career!
+
+FAUST
+
+Despite my length of beard I need
+The easy manners that insure success;
+Th' attempt I fear can ne'er succeed;
+To mingle in the world I want address;
+I still have an embarrass'd air, and then
+I feel myself so small with other men.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Time, my good friend, will all that's needful give;
+Be only self-possessed, and thou hast learn'd to live.
+
+FAUST
+
+But how are we to start, I pray?
+Steeds, servants, carriage, where are they?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We've but to spread this mantle wide,
+'Twill serve whereon through air to ride;
+No heavy baggage need you take,
+When we our bold excursion make.
+A little gas, which I will soon prepare,
+Lifts us from earth; aloft through air,
+Light-laden, we shall swiftly steer;--
+I wish you joy of your new life-career.
+
+
+AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG
+
+_A Drinking Party_
+
+FROSCH
+
+No drinking? Naught a laugh to raise?
+None of your gloomy looks, I pray!
+You, who so bright were wont to blaze,
+Are dull as wetted straw today.
+
+BRANDER
+
+'Tis all your fault; your part you do not bear,
+No beastliness, no folly.
+
+FROSCH (_pours a glass of wine over his head_)
+
+ There,
+You have them both!
+
+BRANDER
+
+ You double beast!
+
+FROSCH
+
+'Tis what you ask'd me for, at least!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Whoever quarrels, turn him out!
+With open throat drink, roar, and shout.
+Hollo! Hollo! Ho!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Zounds, fellow, cease your deaf'ning cheers!
+Bring cotton-wool! He splits my ears.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+'Tis when the roof rings back the tone,
+Then first the full power of the bass is known.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Right! out with him who takes offence!
+A! tara lara da!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+A! tara lara da!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Our throats are tuned. Come, let's commence!
+
+(_Sings_)
+
+ The holy Roman empire now,
+ How holds it still together?
+
+BRANDER
+
+An ugly song! a song political!
+A song offensive! Thank God, every morn,
+To rule the Roman empire that you were not born!
+I bless my stars at least that mine is not
+Either a kaiser's or a chancellor's lot.
+Yet, 'among ourselves, should one still lord it o'er the rest;
+That we elect a pope I now suggest.
+Ye know what quality insures
+A man's success, his rise secures.
+
+FROSCH (_sings_)
+
+ Bear, lady nightingale above,
+ Ten thousand greetings to my love.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+No greetings to a sweetheart! No love-songs shall there be!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Love-greetings and love-kisses! Thou shalt not hinder me!
+
+(_Sings_)
+
+ Undo the bolt! in stilly night,
+ Undo the bolt! the lover wakes.
+ Shut to the bolt! when morning breaks.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Ay, sing, sing on, praise her with all thy might!
+My turn to laugh will come some day.
+Me hath she jilted once, you the same trick she'll play.
+Some gnome her lover be! where cross-roads meet,
+With her to play the fool; or old he-goat,
+From Blocksberg coming in swift gallop, bleat
+A good night to her from his hairy throat!
+A proper lad of genuine flesh and blood,
+Is for the damsel far too good;
+The greeting she shall have from me,
+To smash her window-panes will be!
+
+BRANDER (_striking on the table_)
+
+Silence! Attend! to me give ear!
+Confess, sirs, I know how to live:
+Some love-sick folk are sitting here!
+Hence, 'tis but fit, their hearts to cheer,
+That I a good-night strain to them should give.
+Hark! of the newest fashion is my song!
+Strike boldly in the chorus, clear and strong!
+
+(_He sings_)
+
+ Once in a cellar lived a rat,
+ He feasted there on butter,
+ Until his paunch became as fat
+ As that of Doctor Luther.
+ The cook laid poison for the guest,
+ Then was his heart with pangs oppress'd,
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+CHORUS (_shouting_)
+
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+BRANDER
+
+ He ran around, he ran abroad,
+ Of every puddle drinking.
+ The house with rage he scratch'd and gnaw'd,
+ In vain,--he fast was sinking;
+ Full many an anguish'd bound he gave,
+ Nothing the hapless brute could save,
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+BRANDER
+
+ By torture driven, in open day,
+ The kitchen he invaded,
+ Convulsed upon the hearth he lay,
+ With anguish sorely jaded;
+ The poisoner laugh'd; Ha! ha! quoth she,
+ His life is ebbing fast, I see,
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ As if his frame love wasted.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+How the dull boors exulting shout!
+Poison for the poor rats to strew
+A fine exploit it is no doubt.
+
+BRANDER
+
+They, as it seems, stand well with you!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Old bald-pate! with the paunch profound!
+The rat's mishap hath tamed his nature;
+For he his counterpart hath found
+Depicted in the swollen creature.
+
+FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I now must introduce to you
+Before aught else, this jovial crew,
+To show how lightly life may glide away;
+With the folk here each day's a holiday.
+With little wit and much content,
+Each on his own small round intent,
+Like sportive kitten with its tail;
+While no sick-headache they bewail,
+And while their host will credit give,
+Joyous and free from care they live.
+
+BRANDER
+
+They're off a journey, that is clear,--
+From their strange manners; they have scarce been here
+An hour.
+
+FROSCH
+
+ You're right! Leipzig's the place for me!
+'Tis quite a little Paris; people there
+Acquire a certain easy, finish'd air.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What take you now these travelers to be?
+
+FROSCH
+
+Let me alone! O'er a full glass you'll see,
+As easily I'll worm their secret out
+As draw an infant's tooth. I've not a doubt
+That my two gentlemen are nobly born;
+They look dissatisfied and full of scorn.
+
+BRANDER
+
+They are but mountebanks, I'll lay a bet!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Most like.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Mark me, I'll screw it from them yet!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+These fellows would not scent the devil out,
+E'en though he had them by the very throat!
+
+FAUST
+
+Good-morrow, gentlemen!
+
+STEBEL
+
+ Thanks for your fair salute.
+
+[_Aside, glancing at_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]
+
+How! goes the fellow on a halting foot?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Is it permitted here with you to sit?
+Then, though good wine is not forthcoming here,
+Good company at least our hearts will cheer.
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+A dainty gentleman, no doubt of it!
+
+FROSCH
+
+You're doubtless recently from Rippach? Pray,
+Did you with Master Hans there chance to sup?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Today we pass'd him, but we did not stop!
+When last we met him he had much to say
+Touching his cousins, and to each he sent
+Full many a greeting and kind compliment.
+
+[_With an inclination toward_ FROSCH.]
+
+
+ALTMAYER (_aside to_ Frosch)
+
+You have it there!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+ Faith! he's a knowing one!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Have patience! I will show him up anon!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We heard erewhile, unless I'm wrong,
+Voices well trained in chorus pealing?
+Certes, most choicely here must song
+Re-echo from this vaulted ceiling!
+
+FROSCH
+
+That you're an amateur one plainly sees!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh no, though strong the love, I cannot boast much skill.
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Give us a song!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ As many as you will.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+But be it a brand new one, if you please!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+But recently returned from Spain are we,
+The pleasant land of wine and minstrelsy.
+
+(_Sings_)
+
+  A king there was once reigning,
+  Who had a goodly flea--
+
+FROSCH
+
+Hark! did you rightly catch the words? a flea!
+An odd sort of a guest he needs must be.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_sings_)
+
+ A king there was once reigning,
+ Who had a goodly flea,
+ Him loved he without feigning,
+ As his own son were he!
+ His tailor then he summon'd--
+ The tailor to him goes:
+ Now measure me the youngster
+ For jerkin and for hose!
+
+BRANDER
+
+Take proper heed, the tailor strictly charge,
+The nicest measurement to take,
+And as he loves his head, to make
+The hose quite smooth and not too large!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In satin and in velvet,
+Behold the younker dressed:
+Bedizen'd o'er with ribbons,
+A cross upon his breast.
+Prime minister they made him;
+He wore a star of state;
+And all his poor relations
+Were courtiers, rich and great.
+
+The gentlemen and ladies
+At court were sore distressed;
+The queen and all her maidens
+Were bitten by the pest,
+And yet they dared not scratch them
+Or chase the fleas away.
+If we are bit, we catch them,
+And crack without delay.
+
+CHORUS _(shouting)_
+
+If we are bit, etc.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Bravo! That's the song for me!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Such be the fate of every flea!
+
+BRANDER
+
+With clever finger catch and kill!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Hurrah for wine and freedom still!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Were but your wine a trifle better, friend,
+A glass to freedom I would gladly drain.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+You'd better not repeat those words again!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I am afraid the landlord to offend;
+Else freely would I treat each worthy guest
+From our own cellar to the very best.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Out with it then! Your doings I'll defend.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Give a good glass, and straight we'll praise you, one and all.
+Only let not your samples be too small;
+For if my judgment you desire,
+Certes, an ample mouthful I require.
+
+ALTMAYER _(aside)_
+
+I guess, they're from the Rhenish land.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Fetch me a gimlet here!
+
+BRANDER
+
+Say, what therewith to bore?
+You cannot have the wine-casks at the door?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Our landlord's tool-basket behind doth yonder stand.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES _(takes the gimlet_)
+_(To_ FROSCH)
+
+Now only say! what liquor will you take?
+
+FROSCH
+
+How mean you that? Have you of every sort?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Each may his own selection make.
+
+ALTMAYER (_to_ FROSCH)
+
+Ha! Ha! You lick your lips already at the thought.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Good, if I have my choice, the Rhenish I propose;
+For still the fairest gifts the fatherland bestows.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_boring a hole in the edge of the table_
+_opposite to where_ FROSCH _is sitting_)
+
+Get me a little wax--and make some stoppers--quick!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Why, this is nothing but a juggler's trick!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ BRANDER)
+
+And you?
+
+BRANDER
+
+ Champagne's the wine for me;
+Right brisk, and sparkling let it be!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _bores, one of the party has in the
+meantime prepared the, wax-stoppers and stopped
+the holes_.]
+
+BRANDER
+
+What foreign is one always can't decline,
+What's good is often scatter'd far apart.
+The French your genuine German hates with all his heart,
+Yet has a relish for their wine.
+
+SIEBEL (_as_ MEPHISTOPHELES _approaches him_)
+
+I like not acid wine, I must allow,
+Give me a glass of genuine sweet!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_bores_)
+
+ Tokay
+Shall, if you wish it, flow without delay.
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Come! look me in the face! no fooling now!
+You are but making fun of us, I trow.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ah! ah! that would indeed be making free
+With such distinguished guests. Come, no delay;
+What liquor can I serve you with, I pray?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Only be quick, it matters not to me.
+
+_[After the holes are all bored and, stopped.]_
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_with strange gestures_)
+
+Grapes the vine-stock bears,
+Horns the buck-goat wears!
+Wine is sap, the vine is wood,
+The wooden board yields wine as good.
+With a deeper glance and true
+The mysteries of nature view!
+Have faith and here's a miracle!
+Your stoppers draw and drink your fill!
+
+ALL (_as they draw the stoppers and the wine chosen by
+each runs into his glass_)
+
+Oh beauteous spring, which flows so far!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Spill not a single drop, of this beware!
+
+[_They drink repeatedly_.]
+
+ALL _(sing)_
+
+Happy as cannibals are we,
+Or as five hundred swine.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+They're in their glory, mark their elevation!
+
+FAUST
+
+Let's hence, nor here our stay prolong.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Attend, of brutishness ere long
+You'll see a glorious revelation.
+
+SIEBEL _(drinks carelessly; the wine is spilt upon the ground,
+and turns to fame)_
+
+Help! fire! help! Hell is burning!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_addressing the flames_)
+
+Stop,
+Kind element, be still, I say!
+(_To the Company_)
+Of purgatorial fire as yet 'tis but a drop.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What means the knave! For this you'll dearly pay!
+Us, it appears, you do not know.
+
+FROSCH
+
+Such tricks a second time he'd better show!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Methinks 'twere well we pack'd him quietly away.
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What, sir! with us your hocus-pocus play!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Silence, old wine-cask!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+How! add insult, too!
+Vile broomstick!
+
+BRANDER
+
+Hold! or blows shall rain on you!
+
+ALTMAYER (_draws a stopper out of the table; fire springs
+out against him_)
+I burn! I burn!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+'Tis sorcery, I vow!
+Strike home! The fellow is fair game, I trow!
+[_They draw their knives and attack_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_with solemn gestures_)
+
+Visionary scenes appear!
+Words delusive cheat the ear!
+Be ye there, and be ye here!
+[_They stand amazed and gale at one another._]
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+Where am I? What a beauteous land!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Vineyards! unless my sight deceives?
+
+SIEBEL
+
+And clust'ring grapes too, close at hand!
+
+BRANDER
+
+And underneath the spreading leaves,
+What stems there be! What grapes I see!
+
+[_He seizes_ SIEBEL _by the nose. The others reciprocally
+do the same, and raise, their knives._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_as above_)
+
+Delusion, from their eyes the bandage take!
+Note how the devil loves a jest to break!
+
+[_He disappears with_ FAUST; _the fellows draw back
+from one another._]
+
+SIEBEL
+
+What was it?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+How?
+
+FROSCH
+
+Was that your nose?
+
+BRANDER (_to_ SIEBEL)
+
+And look, my hand doth thine inclose!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+I felt a shock, it went through every limb!
+A chair! I'm fainting! All things swim!
+
+FROSCH
+
+Say! What has happened? What's it all about?
+
+SIEBEL
+
+Where is the fellow? Could I scent him out,
+His body from his soul I'd soon divide!
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+With my own eyes, upon a cask astride,
+Forth through the cellar-door I saw him ride--
+Heavy as lead my feet are growing.
+
+[_Turning to the table._]
+
+I wonder is the wine still flowing!
+
+SIEBEL
+
+'Twas all delusion, cheat and lie.
+
+FROSCH
+
+'Twas wine I drank, most certainly.
+
+BRANDER
+
+But with the grapes how was it, pray?
+
+ALTMAYER
+
+That none may miracles believe, who now will say?
+
+WITCHES' KITCHEN
+
+_A large caldron hangs over the fire on a low hearth; various figures
+appear in the vapor rising from it. A_ FEMALE MONKEY _sits beside
+the  caldron to skim it, and watch that it does not boil over. The_
+MALE MONKEY _with the young ones is seated near, warming himself.
+The walls and ceiling are adorned with the strangest articles of
+witch-furniture.
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+This senseless, juggling witchcraft I detest!
+Dost promise that in this foul nest
+Of madness I shall be restored?
+Must I seek counsel from an ancient dame?
+And can she, by these rites abhorred,
+Take thirty winters from my frame?
+Woe's me, if thou naught better canst suggest!
+Hope has already fled my breast.
+Has neither nature nor a noble mind
+A balsam yet devis'd of any kind?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+My friend, you now speak sensibly. In truth,
+Nature a method giveth to renew thy youth:
+But in another book the lesson's writ;--
+It forms a curious chapter, I admit.
+
+FAUST
+
+I fain would know it.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Good! A remedy
+Without physician, gold, or sorcery:
+Away forthwith, and to the fields repair;
+Begin to delve, to cultivate the ground;
+Thy senses and thyself confine
+Within the very narrowest round;
+Support thyself upon the simplest fare;
+Live like a very brute the brutes among;
+Neither esteem it robbery
+The acre thou dost reap, thyself to dung.
+This the best method, credit me,
+Again at eighty to grow hale and young.
+
+FAUST
+
+I am not used to it, nor can myself degrade
+So far, as in my hand to take the spade.
+This narrow life would suit me not at all.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Then we the witch must summon after all.
+
+FAUST
+
+Will none but this old beldame do?
+Canst not thyself the potion brew?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A pretty play our leisure to beguile!
+A thousand bridges I could build meanwhile.
+Not science only and consummate art--
+Patience must also bear her part.
+A quiet spirit worketh whole years long;
+Time only makes the subtle ferment strong.
+And all things that belong thereto,
+Are wondrous and exceeding rare!
+The devil taught her, it is true;
+But yet the draught the devil can't prepare.
+
+[_Perceiving the beasts_.]
+
+Look yonder, what a dainty pair!
+Here is the maid! the knave is there!
+
+(_To the beasts_)
+
+It seems your dame is not at home?
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+Gone to carouse,
+Out of the house,
+Thro' the chimney and away!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+How long is it her wont to roam?
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+While we can warm our paws she'll stay.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+What think you of the charming creatures?
+
+FAUST
+
+I loathe alike their form and features!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Nay, such discourse, be it confessed,
+Is just the thing that pleases me the best.
+(_To the_ MONKEYS)
+Tell me, ye whelps, accursed crew!
+What stir ye in the broth about?
+
+MONKEYS
+
+Coarse beggar's gruel here we stew.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of customers you'll have a rout.
+
+THE HE-MONKEY (_approaching and fawning on_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+Quick! quick! throw the dice,
+Make me rich in a trice,
+Oh give me the prize!
+Alas, for myself,
+Had I plenty of pelf,
+I then should be wise.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+How blest the ape would think himself, if he
+Could only put into the lottery!
+
+[_In the meantime the young_ MONKEYS _have been playing
+with a large globe, which they roll forward._]
+
+THE HE-MONKEY
+
+The world behold;
+Unceasingly roll'd,
+It riseth and falleth ever;
+It ringeth like glass!
+How brittle, alas!
+'Tis hollow, and resteth never.
+How bright the sphere,
+Still brighter here!
+Now living am I!
+Dear son, beware!
+Nor venture there!
+Thou too must die!
+It is of clay;
+'Twill crumble away;
+There fragments lie.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of what use is the sieve
+
+THE HE-MONKEY (_taking it down_)
+
+The sieve would show,
+If thou wert a thief or no?
+[_He runs to the_ SHE-MONKEY, _and makes her look through it._]
+
+Look through the sieve!
+Dost know him the thief,
+And dar'st thou not call him so?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_approaching the fire_)
+
+And then this pot?
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+The half-witted sot!
+He knows not the pot!
+He knows not the kettle!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Unmannerly beast!
+Be civil at least!
+
+THE HE-MONKEY
+
+Take the whisk and sit down in the settle!
+
+[_He makes_ MEPHISTOPHELES _sit down._]
+
+FAUST (_who all this time has been standing before a looking-glass,
+now approaching, and now retiring front it_)
+
+What do I see? What form, whose charms transcend
+The loveliness of earth, is mirror'd here!
+O Love, to waft me to her sphere,
+To me the swiftest of thy pinions lend!
+Alas! If I remain not rooted to this place,
+If to approach more near I'm fondly lur'd,
+Her image fades, in veiling mist obscur'd!--
+Model of beauty both in form and face!
+Is't possible? Hath woman charms so rare?
+In this recumbent form, supremely fair,
+The essence must I see of heavenly grace?
+Can aught so exquisite on earth be found?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The six days' labor of a god, my friend,
+Who doth himself cry bravo, at the end,
+By something clever doubtless should be crown'd.
+For this time gaze your fill, and when you please
+just such a prize for you I can provide;
+How blest is he to whom kind fate decrees,
+To take her to his home, a lovely bride!
+
+[FAUST _continues to gaze into the mirror._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+[_stretching himself on the settle and playing
+with the whisk, continues to speak._]
+
+Here sit I, like a king upon his throne;
+My sceptre this;--the crown I want alone.
+
+THE MONKEYS (_who have hitherto been making all sorts of
+strange gestures, bring_ MEPHISTOPHELES _a crown, with
+loud cries)
+
+Oh, be so good,
+With sweat and with blood
+The crown to lime!
+
+[_They handle the crown awkwardly and break it in two
+pieces, with which they skip about._]
+
+'Twas fate's decree!
+We speak and see!
+We hear and rhyme.
+
+FAUST (_before the mirror_)
+
+Woe's me! well-nigh distraught I feel!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_pointing to the beasts_)
+
+And even my own head almost begins to reel.
+
+THE MONKEYS
+
+If good luck attend,
+If fitly things blend,
+Our jargon with thought
+And with reason is fraught!
+
+FAUST (_as above_)
+
+A flame is kindled in my breast!
+Let us begone! nor linger here!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_in the same position_)
+
+It now at least must be confessed,
+That poets sometimes are sincere.
+
+[_The caldron which the_ SHE-MONKEY _has neglected begins
+to boil over; a great flame arises, which streams up the
+chimney. The_ WITCH _comes down the chimney with
+horrible cries._]
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Ough! ough! ough! ough!
+Accursed brute! accursed sow!
+The caldron dost neglect, for shame!
+Accursed brute to scorch the dame!
+
+(_Perceiving_ FAUST _and_
+MEPHISTOPHELES._)
+
+Whom have we here?
+Who's sneaking here?
+Whence are ye come?
+With what desire?
+The plague of fire
+Your bones consume!
+
+[_She dips the skimming-ladle into the caldron and throws
+flames at_ FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, _and the_ MONKEYS.
+_The_ MONKEYS _whimper._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_twirling the whisk which he holds in his
+hand, and striking among the glasses and pots_)
+
+Dash! Smash!
+There lies the glass!
+There lies the slime!
+'Tis but a jest;
+I but keep time,
+Thou hellish pest,
+To thine own chime!
+[_While the_ WITCH _steps back in rage and astonishment_.]
+Dost know me! Skeleton! Vile scarecrow, thou!
+Thy lord and master dost thou know?
+What holds me, that I deal not now
+Thee and thine apes a stunning blow?
+No more respect to my red vest dost pay?
+Does my cock's feather no allegiance claim?
+Have I my visage masked today?
+Must I be forced myself to name?
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Master, forgive this rude salute!
+But I perceive no cloven foot.
+And your two ravens, where are they?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+This once I must admit your plea;--
+For truly I must own that we
+Each other have not seen for many a day.
+The culture, too, that shapes the world, at last
+Hath e'en the devil in its sphere embraced;
+The northern phantom from the scene hath pass'd;
+Tail, talons, horns, are nowhere to be traced!
+As for the foot, with which I can't dispense,
+'Twould injure me in company, and hence,
+Like many a youthful cavalier,
+False calves I now have worn for many a year.
+
+THE WITCH (_dancing_)
+
+I am beside myself with joy,
+To see once more the gallant Satan here!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Woman, no more that name employ!
+
+THE WITCH
+
+But why? what mischief hath it done?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+To fable-books it now doth appertain;
+But people from the change have nothing won.
+Rid of the evil one, the evil ones remain.
+Lord Baron call thou me, so is the matter good;
+Of other cavaliers the mien I wear.
+Dost make no question of my gentle blood;
+See here, this is the scutcheon that I bear!
+
+[_He makes an unseemly gesture._]
+
+THE WITCH (_laughing immoderately_)
+
+Ha! Ha! Just like yourself! You are, I ween,
+The same mad wag that you have ever been!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+My friend, learn this to understand, I pray!
+To deal with witches this is still the way.
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Now tell me, gentlemen, what you desire?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of your known juice a goblet we require.
+But for the very oldest let me ask;
+Double its strength with years doth grow.
+
+THE WITCH
+
+Most willingly! And here I have a flask,
+From which I've sipp'd myself ere now;
+What's more, it doth no longer stink;
+To you a glass I joyfully will give.
+
+(_Aside._)
+
+If unprepar'd, however, this man drink,
+He hath not, as you know, an hour to live.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+He's my good friend, with whom 'twill prosper well;
+I grudge him not the choicest of thy store.
+Now draw thy circle, speak thy spell,
+And straight a bumper for him pour!
+
+[_The_ WITCH, _with extraordinary gestures, describes a
+circle, and places strange things within it. The
+glasses meanwhile begin to ring, and the caldron
+to sound and make music. Lastly, she brings a
+great book; places the_ MONKEYS _in the circle to
+serve her as a desk, and to hold the torches. She
+beckons_ FAUST _to approach._]
+
+FAUST (_to_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+Tell me, to what doth all this tend?
+Where will these frantic gestures end?
+This loathsome cheat, this senseless stuff
+I've known and hated long enough.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Mere mummery, a laugh to raise!
+Pray don't be so fastidious! She
+But as a leech, her hocus-pocus plays,
+That well with you her potion may agree.
+[_He compels_ FAUST _to enter the circle._]
+
+[_The,_ WITCH, _with great emphasis, begins to declaim from
+the book._]
+
+This must thou ken:
+Of one make ten,
+Pass two, and then
+Make square the three,
+So rich thou'lt be.
+Drop out the four!
+From five and six,
+Thus says the witch,
+Make seven and eight.
+So all is straight!
+And nine is one,
+And ten is none,
+This is the witch's one-time-one!
+
+FAUST
+
+The hag doth as in fever rave.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+To these will follow many a stave.
+I know it well, so rings the book throughout;
+Much time I've lost in puzzling o'er its pages,
+For downright paradox, no doubt,
+A mystery remains alike to fools and sages.
+Ancient the art and modern too, my friend.
+'Tis still the fashion as it used to be,
+Error instead of truth abroad to send
+By means of three and one, and one and three.
+'Tis ever taught and babbled in the schools.
+Who'd take the trouble to dispute with fools?
+When words men hear, in sooth, they usually believe,
+That there must needs therein be something to conceive.
+
+THE WITCH (_continues_)
+
+ The lofty power
+ Of wisdom's dower,
+ From all the world conceal'd!
+ Who thinketh not,
+ To him I wot,
+ Unsought it is reveal'd.
+
+FAUST
+
+What nonsense doth the hag propound?
+My brain it doth well-nigh confound.
+A hundred thousand fools or more,
+Methinks I hear in chorus roar.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Incomparable Sibyl cease, I pray!
+Hand us thy liquor without more delay.
+And to the very brim the goblet crown!
+My friend he is, and need not be afraid;
+Besides, he is a man of many a grade,
+Who hath drunk deep already.
+
+[_The_ WITCH, _with many ceremonies, pours the liquor
+into a cup; as_ FAUST _lifts it to his mouth, a light
+flame arises._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gulp it down!
+No hesitation! It will prove
+A cordial, and your heart inspire!
+What! with the devil hand and glove,
+And yet shrink back afraid of fire?
+[_The_ WITCH _dissolves the circle._ FAUST _steps out._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now forth at once! thou dar'st not rest.
+
+WITCH
+
+And much, sir, may the liquor profit you!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to the_ WITCH)
+
+And if to pleasure thee I aught can do,
+Pray on Walpurgis mention thy request.
+
+WITCH
+
+Here is a song, sung o'er, sometimes you'll see,
+That 'twill a singular effect produce.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Come, quick, and let thyself be led by me;
+Thou must perspire, in order that the juice
+Thy frame may penetrate through every part.
+Then noble idleness I thee will teach to prize,
+And soon with ecstasy thou'lt recognize
+How Cupid stirs and gambols in thy heart.
+
+FAUST
+
+Let me but gaze one moment in the glass!
+Too lovely was that female form!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Nay! nay!
+A model which all women shall surpass,
+In flesh and blood ere long thou shalt survey.
+(_Aside._)
+As works the draught, thou presently shalt greet
+A Helen in each woman thou dost meet.
+
+A STREET
+
+FAUST (MARGARET _passing by_).
+
+FAUST
+
+Fair lady, may I thus make free
+To offer you my arm and company?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I am no lady, am not fair,
+Can without escort home repair.
+_[She disengages herself and exit._]
+
+FAUST
+
+By heaven! This girl is fair indeed!
+No form like hers can I recall.
+Virtue she hath, and modest heed,
+Is piquant too, and sharp withal.
+Her cheek's soft light, her rosy lips,
+No length of time will e'er eclipse!
+Her downward glance in passing by,
+Deep in my heart is stamp'd for aye;
+How curt and sharp her answer too,
+To ecstasy the feeling grew!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters._]
+
+FAUST
+
+This girl must win for me! Dost hear?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Which?
+
+FAUST
+
+She who but now passed.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What! She?
+She from confession cometh here,
+From every sin absolved and free;
+I crept near the confessor's chair.
+All innocence her virgin soul,
+For next to nothing went she there;
+O'er such as she I've no control!
+
+[Illustration: MARGARET _From the Painting by Wilhelm von Kaulbach_]
+
+FAUST
+
+She's past fourteen.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+ You really talk
+Like any gay Lothario,
+Who every floweret from its stalk
+Would pluck, and deems nor grace, nor truth,
+Secure against his arts, forsooth!
+This ne'er the less won't always do.
+
+FAUST
+
+Sir Moralizer, prithee, pause;
+Nor plague me with your tiresome laws!
+To cut the matter short, my friend,
+She must this very night be mine,--
+And if to help me you decline,
+Midnight shall see our compact end.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What may occur just bear in mind!
+A fortnight's space, at least, I need,
+A fit occasion but to find.
+
+FAUST
+
+With but seven hours I could succeed;
+Nor should I want the devil's wile,
+So young a creature to beguile.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Like any Frenchman now you speak,
+But do not fret, I pray; why seek
+To hurry to enjoyment straight?
+The pleasure is not half so great,
+As when at first, around, above,
+With all the fooleries of love,
+The puppet you can knead and mold
+As in Italian story oft is told.
+
+FAUST
+
+No such incentives, do I need.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+But now, without offence or jest!
+You cannot quickly, I protest,
+In winning this sweet child succeed.
+By storm we cannot take the fort,
+To stratagem we must resort.
+
+FAUST
+
+Conduct me to her place of rest!
+Some token of the angel bring!
+A kerchief from her snowy breast,
+A garter bring me--any thing!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+That I my anxious zeal may prove,
+Your pangs to soothe and aid your love,
+A single moment will we not delay,
+Will lead you to her room this very day.
+
+FAUST
+
+And shall I see her?--Have her?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+ No!
+She to a neighbor's house will go;
+But in her atmosphere alone
+The tedious hours meanwhile you may employ
+In blissful dreams of future joy.
+
+FAUST
+
+Can we go now?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis yet too soon.
+
+FAUST
+
+Some present for my love procure! [_Exit._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Presents so soon! 'tis well! success is sure!
+Full many a goodly place I know,
+And treasures buried long ago;
+I must a bit o'erlook them now. [_Exit._]
+
+
+EVENING. A SMALL AND NEAT ROOM
+
+MARGARET (_braiding and binding up her hair_)
+
+I would give something now to know
+Who yonder gentleman could be!
+He had a gallant air, I trow,
+And doubtless was of high degree:
+That written on his brow was seen--
+Nor else would he so bold have been.
+
+[_Exit_]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Come in! tread softly! be discreet!
+
+FAUST (_after a pause_)
+
+_Begone and leave me, I entreat!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_looking round_)
+
+Not every maiden is so neat.
+
+[_Exit_]
+
+FAUST (_gazing round_)
+
+Welcome sweet twilight, calm and blest,
+That in this hallow'd precinct reigns!
+Fond yearning love, inspire my breast,
+Feeding on hope's sweet dew thy blissful pains!
+What stillness here environs me!
+Content and order brood around.
+What fulness in this poverty!
+In this small cell what bliss profound!
+
+[_He throws himself on the leather arm-chair beside
+the bed_.]
+
+Receive me thou, who hast in thine embrace,
+Welcom'd in joy and grief the ages flown!
+How oft the children of a by-gone race
+Have cluster'd round this patriarchal throne!
+Haply she, also, whom I hold so dear,
+For Christmas gift, with grateful joy possess'd,
+Hath with the full round cheek of childhood, here,
+Her grandsire's wither'd hand devoutly press'd.
+Maiden! I feel thy spirit haunt the place,
+Breathing of order and abounding grace.
+As with a mother's voice it prompteth thee
+The pure white cover o'er the board to spread,
+To stew the crisping sand beneath thy tread.
+Dear hand! so godlike in its ministry!
+The hut becomes a paradise through thee!
+And here--
+
+[_He raises the bed curtain_.]
+
+How thrills my pulse with strange delight!
+Here could I linger hours untold;
+Thou, Nature, didst in vision bright,
+The embryo angel here unfold.
+Here lay the child, her bosom warm
+With life; while steeped in slumber's dew,
+To perfect grace, her godlike form,
+With pure and hallow'd weavings grew!
+
+And thou! ah here what seekest thou?
+How quails mine inmost being now!
+What wouldst thou here? what makes thy heart so sore?
+Unhappy Faust! I know thee now no more.
+
+Do I a magic atmosphere inhale?
+Erewhile, my passion would not brook delay!
+Now in a pure love-dream I melt away.
+Are we the sport of every passing gale?
+
+Should she return and enter now,
+How wouldst thou rue thy guilty flame!
+Proud vaunter--thou wouldst hide thy brow--
+And at her feet sink down with shame.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Quick! quick! below I see her there.
+
+FAUST
+
+Away! I will return no more!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Here is a casket, with a store
+Of jewels, which I got elsewhere.
+Just lay it in the press; make haste!
+I swear to you, 'twill turn her brain;
+Therein some trifles I have placed,
+Wherewith another to obtain.
+But child is child, and play is play.
+
+FAUST
+
+I know not--shall I?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Do you ask?
+Perchance you would retain the treasure?
+If such your wish, why then, I say,
+Henceforth absolve me from my task,
+Nor longer waste your hours of leisure.
+I trust you're not by avarice led!
+I rub my hands, I scratch my head,--
+
+[_He places the casket in the press and closes the lock._]
+
+Now quick! Away!
+That soon the sweet young creature may
+The wish and purpose of your heart obey;
+Yet stand you there
+As would you to the lecture-room repair,
+As if before you stood,
+Arrayed in flesh and blood,
+Physics and metaphysics weird and gray!--
+Away!
+                          [_Exeunt_.]
+
+MARGARET (_with a lamp_)
+
+Here 'tis so close, so sultry now,
+
+[_She opens the window._]
+
+Yet out of doors 'tis not so warm.
+I feel so strange, I know not how--
+I wish my mother would come home.
+Through me there runs a shuddering--
+I'm but a foolish timid thing!
+
+[_While undressing herself she begins to sing._]
+
+ There was a king in Thule,
+ True even to the grave;
+ To whom his dying mistress
+ A golden beaker gave.
+
+ At every feast he drained it,
+ Naught was to him so dear,
+ And often as he drained it,
+ Gush'd from his eyes the tear.
+
+ When death came, unrepining
+ His cities o'er he told;
+ All to his heir resigning,
+ Except his cup of gold.
+
+ With many a knightly vassal
+ At a royal feast sat he,
+ In yon proud hall ancestral,
+ In his castle o'er the sea.
+
+ Up stood the jovial monarch,
+ And quaff'd his last life's glow,
+ Then hurled the hallow'd goblet
+ Into the flood below.
+
+ He saw it splashing, drinking,
+ And plunging in the sea;
+ His eyes meanwhile were sinking,
+ And never again drank he.
+
+[_She opens the press to put away her clothes, and perceives
+the casket_.]
+
+How comes this lovely casket here? The press
+I locked, of that I'm confident.
+'Tis very wonderful! What's in it I can't guess;
+Perhaps 'twas brought by some one in distress,
+And left in pledge for loan my mother lent.
+Here by a ribbon hangs a little key!
+I have a mind to open it and see!
+Heavens! only look! what have we here!
+In all my days ne'er saw I such a sight!
+Jewels! which any noble dame might wear,
+For some high pageant richly dight
+This chain--how would it look on me!
+These splendid gems, whose may they be?
+
+[_She puts them on and steps before the glass._]
+
+Were but the earrings only mine!
+Thus one has quite another air.
+What boots it to be young and fair?
+It doubtless may be very fine;
+But then, alas, none cares for you,
+And praise sounds half like pity too.
+
+Gold all doth lure,
+Gold doth secure
+All things. Alas, we poor!
+
+
+PROMENADE
+
+_FAUST walking thoughtfully up and down. To him_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+By all rejected love! By hellish fire I curse,
+Would I knew aught to make my imprecation worse!
+
+FAUST
+
+What aileth thee? what chafes thee now so sore?
+A face like that I never saw before!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'd yield me to the devil instantly,
+Did it not happen that myself am he!
+
+FAUST
+
+There must be some disorder in thy wit!
+To rave thus like a madman, is it fit?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Think! only think! The gems for Gretchen brought,
+Them hath a priest now made his own!--
+A glimpse of them the mother caught,
+And 'gan with secret fear to groan.
+The woman's scent is keen enough;
+Doth ever in the prayer-book snuff;
+Smells every article to ascertain
+Whether the thing is holy or profane,
+And scented in the jewels rare,
+That there was not much blessing there.
+"My child," she cries; "ill-gotten good
+Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood;
+With them we'll deck our Lady shrine,
+She'll cheer our souls with bread divine!"
+At this poor Gretchen 'gan to pout;
+'Tis a gift-horse, at least, she thought,
+And sure, he godless cannot be,
+Who brought them here so cleverly.
+Straight for a priest the mother sent,
+Who, when he understood the jest,
+With what he saw was well content.
+"This shows a pious mind!" Quoth he:
+"Self-conquest is true victory.
+The Church hath a good stomach, she, with zest,
+Whole countries hath swallow'd down,
+And never yet a surfeit known.
+The Church alone, be it confessed,
+Daughters, can ill-got wealth digest."
+
+FAUST
+
+It is a general custom, too,
+Practised alike by king and jew.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+With that, clasp, chain, and ring, he swept
+As they were mushrooms; and the casket,
+Without one word of thanks, he kept,
+As if of nuts it were a basket.
+Promised reward in heaven, then forth he hied--
+And greatly they were edified.
+
+FAUST
+
+And Gretchen!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ In unquiet mood
+Knows neither what she would or should;
+The trinkets night and day thinks o'er;
+On him who brought them, dwells still more.
+
+FAUST
+
+The darling's sorrow grieves me, bring
+Another set without delay!
+The first, methinks, was no great thing.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+All's to my gentleman child's play!
+
+FAUST
+
+Plan all things to achieve my end!
+Engage the attention of her friend!
+No milk-and-water devil be,
+And bring fresh jewels instantly!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay, sir! Most gladly I'll obey.
+
+[FAUST _exit_.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Your doting love-sick fool, with ease,
+Merely his lady-love to please,
+Sun, moon, and stars in sport would puff away.
+
+[_Exit._]
+
+
+THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE
+
+MARTHA (_alone_)
+
+God pardon my dear husband, he
+Doth not in truth act well by me!
+Forth in the world abroad to roam,
+And leave me on the straw at home.
+And yet his will I ne'er did thwart,
+God knows, I lov'd him from my heart.
+
+[_She weeps._]
+
+Perchance he's dead!--oh wretched state!--
+Had I but a certificate!
+
+(MARGARET _comes_.)
+
+MARGARET
+
+Dame Martha!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ Gretchen?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Only think!
+My knees beneath me well-nigh sink!
+Within my press I've found today
+Another case, of ebony.
+And things--magnificent they are,
+More costly than the first, by far.
+
+MARTHA
+
+You must not name it to your mother!
+It would to shrift, just like the other.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Nay look at them! now only see!
+
+MARTHA (_dresses her up_)
+
+Thou happy creature!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Woe is me!
+Them in the street I cannot wear,
+Or in the church, or anywhere.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Come often over here to me,
+The gems put on quite privately;
+And then before the mirror walk an hour or so,
+Thus we shall have our pleasure too.
+Then suitable occasions we must seize,
+As at a feast, to show them by degrees:
+A chain at first, pearl ear-drops then,--your mother
+Won't see them, or we'll coin some tale or other.
+
+MARGARET
+
+But, who, I wonder, could the caskets bring?
+I fear there's something wrong about the thing!
+
+[_A knock._]
+
+Good heavens! can that my mother be?
+
+MARTHA (_peering through the blind_)
+
+'Tis a strange gentleman, I see.
+Come in!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I've ventur'd to intrude today.
+Ladies, excuse the liberty, I pray.
+
+[_He steps back respectfully before_ MARGARET.]
+
+After dame Martha Schwerdtlein I inquire!
+
+MARTHA
+
+'Tis I. Pray what have you to say to me?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside to her_)
+
+I know you now,--and therefore will retire;
+At present you've distinguished company.
+Pardon the freedom, Madam, with your leave,
+I will make free to call again at eve.
+
+MARTHA (_aloud_)
+
+Why, child, of all strange notions, he
+For some grand lady taketh thee!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I am, in truth, of humble blood--
+The gentleman is far too good--
+Nor gems nor trinkets are my own.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh 'tis not the mere ornaments alone;
+Her glance and mien far more betray.
+Rejoiced I am that I may stay.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Your business, Sir? I long to know--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Would I could happier tidings show!
+I trust mine errand you'll not let me rue;
+Your husband's dead, and greeteth you.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Is dead? True heart! Oh misery!
+My husband dead! Oh, I shall die!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas! good Martha! don't despair!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now listen to the sad affair!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I for this cause should fear to love.
+The loss my certain death would prove.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Joy still must sorrow, sorrow joy attend.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Proceed, and tell the story of his end!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+At Padua, in St. Anthony's,
+In holy ground his body lies;
+Quiet and cool his place of rest,
+With pious ceremonials blest.
+
+MARTHA
+
+And had you naught besides to bring?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh yes! one grave and solemn prayer;
+Let them for him three hundred masses sing!
+But in my pockets, I have nothing there.
+
+MARTHA
+
+No trinket! no love-token did he send!
+What every journeyman safe in his pouch will hoard
+There for remembrance fondly stored,
+And rather hungers, rather begs than spend!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Madam, in truth, it grieves me sore,
+But he his gold not lavishly hath spent.
+His failings too he deeply did repent,
+Ay! and his evil plight bewail'd still more.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas! That men should thus be doomed to woe!
+I for his soul will many a requiem pray.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A husband you deserve this very day;
+A child so worthy to be loved.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Ah no,
+That time hath not yet come for me.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If not a spouse, a gallant let it be.
+Among heaven's choicest gifts, I place,
+So sweet a darling to embrace.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Our land doth no such usage know.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Usage or not, it happens so.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Go on, I pray!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I stood by his bedside.
+Something less foul it was than dung;
+'Twas straw half rotten; yet, he as a Christian died.
+And sorely hath remorse his conscience wrung.
+"Wretch that I was," quoth he, with parting breath,
+"So to forsake my business and my wife!
+Ah! the remembrance is my death.
+Could I but have her pardon in this life!"--
+
+MARTHA (_weeping_)
+
+Dear soul! I've long forgiven him, indeed!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+"Though she, God knows, was more to blame than I."
+
+MARTHA
+
+He lied! What, on the brink of death to lie!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If I am skill'd the countenance to read,
+He doubtless fabled as he parted hence.--
+"No time had I to gape, or take my ease," he said,
+"First to get children, and then get them bread;
+And bread, too, in the very widest sense;
+Nor could I eat in peace even my proper share."
+
+MARTHA
+
+What, all my truth, my love forgotten quite?
+My weary drudgery by day and night!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Not so! He thought of you with tender care.
+Quoth he: "Heaven knows how fervently I prayed,
+For wife and children when from Malta bound;--
+The prayer hath heaven with favor crowned;
+We took a Turkish vessel which conveyed
+Rich store of treasure for the Sultan's court;
+Its own reward our gallant action brought;
+The captur'd prize was shared among the crew,
+And of the treasure I received my due."
+
+MARTHA
+
+How? Where? The treasure hath he buried, pray?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Where the four winds have blown it, who can say?
+In Naples as he stroll'd, a stranger there,--
+A comely maid took pity on my friend:
+And gave such tokens of her love and care,
+That he retained them to his blessed end.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Scoundrel! to rob his children of their bread!
+And all this misery, this bitter need,
+Could not his course of recklessness impede!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Well, he hath paid the forfeit, and is dead.
+Now were I in your place, my counsel hear;
+My weeds I'd wear for one chaste year,
+And for another lover meanwhile would look out.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Alas, I might search far and near,
+Not quickly should I find another like my first!
+There could not be a fonder fool than mine,
+Only he loved too well abroad to roam;
+Loved foreign women too, and foreign wine,
+And loved besides the dice accurs'd.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+All had gone swimmingly, no doubt,
+Had he but given you at home,
+On his side, just as wide a range.
+Upon such terms, to you I swear,
+Myself with you would gladly rings exchange!
+
+MARTHA
+
+The gentleman is surely pleas'd to jest!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+Now to be off in time, were best!
+She'd make the very devil marry her.
+
+(_To_ MARGARET)
+
+How fares it with your heart?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ How mean you, Sir?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+The sweet young innocent!
+
+(_aloud_)
+
+ Ladies, farewell!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Farewell!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ But ere you leave us, quickly tell!
+I from a witness fain had heard,
+Where, how, and when my husband died and was interr'd.
+To forms I've always been attached indeed,
+His death I fain would in the journals read.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay, madam, what two witnesses declare
+Is held as valid everywhere;
+A gallant friend I have, not far from here,
+Who will for you before the judge appear.
+I'll bring him straight.
+
+MARTHA
+
+ I pray you do!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And this young lady, we shall find her too?
+A noble youth, far traveled, he
+Shows to the sex all courtesy.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I in his presence needs must blush for shame.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Not in the presence of a crowned king!
+
+MARTHA
+
+The garden, then, behind my house, we'll name,
+There we'll await you both this evening.
+
+
+A STREET
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+How is it now? How speeds it? Is't in train?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Bravo! I find you all aflame!
+Gretchen full soon your own you'll name.
+This eve, at neighbor Martha's, her you'll meet again;
+The woman seems expressly made
+To drive the pimp and gipsy's trade.
+
+FAUST
+
+Good!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ But from us she something would request.
+
+FAUST
+
+A favor claims return, as this world goes.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We have on oath but duly to attest
+That her dead husband's limbs, outstretch'd, repose
+In holy ground at Padua.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Sage indeed!
+So I suppose we straight must journey there!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+_Sancta simplicitas!_ For that no need!
+Without much knowledge we have but to swear.
+
+FAUST
+
+If you have nothing better to suggest,
+Against your plan I must at once protest.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Oh, holy man! methinks I have you there!
+In all your life, say, have you ne'er
+False witness borne, until this hour?
+Have you of God, the world, and all it doth contain,
+Of man, and that which worketh in his heart and brain,
+Not definitions given, in words of weight and power,
+With front unblushing, and a dauntless breast?
+Yet, if into the depth of things you go,
+Touching these matters, it must be confess'd,
+As much as of Herr Schwerdtlein's death you know!
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou art and dost remain liar and sophist too.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay, if one did not take a somewhat deeper view!
+Tomorrow, in all honor, thou
+Poor Gretchen wilt befool, and vow
+Thy soul's deep love, in lover's fashion.
+
+FAUST
+
+And from my heart.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ All good and fair!
+Then deathless constancy thou'lt swear;
+Speak of one all o'ermastering passion--
+Will that too issue from the heart?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Forbear!
+When passion sways me, and I seek to frame
+Fit utterance for feeling, deep, intense,
+And for my frenzy finding no fit name,
+Sweep round the ample world with every sense,
+Grasp at the loftiest words to speak my flame,
+And call the glow, wherewith I burn,
+Quenchless, eternal, yea, eterne--
+Is that of sophistry a devilish play?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Yet am I right!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Mark this, my friend,
+And spare my lungs; who would the right maintain,
+And hath a tongue wherewith his point to gain,
+Will gain it in the end.
+But come, of gossip I am weary quite;
+Because I've no resource, thou'rt in the right.
+
+
+GARDEN
+
+MARGARET _on_ FAUST's _arm_. MARTHA _with_ MEPHISTOPHELES _walking up
+and down_.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I feel it, you but spare my ignorance,
+The gentleman to blame me stoops thus low.
+
+[Illustration: FAUST AND MARGARET _From the Painting by Carl Becker_]
+
+A traveler from complaisance
+Still makes the best of things; I know
+Too well, my humble prattle never can
+Have power to entertain so wise a man.
+
+FAUST
+
+One glance, one word from thee doth charm me more
+Than the world's wisdom or the sage's lore.
+
+[_He kisses her hand._]
+
+MARGARET
+
+Nay! trouble not yourself! A hand so coarse,
+So rude as mine, how can you kiss!
+What constant work at home must I not do perforce!
+My mother too exacting is.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+MARTHA
+
+Thus, sir, unceasing travel is your lot?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Traffic and duty urge us! With what pain
+Are we compelled to leave full many a spot,
+Where yet we dare not once remain!
+
+MARTHA
+
+In youth's wild years, with vigor crown'd,
+'Tis not amiss thus through the world to sweep;
+But ah, the evil days come round!
+And to a lonely grave as bachelor to creep
+A pleasant thing has no one found.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The prospect fills me with dismay.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Therefore in time, dear sir, reflect, I pray.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+MARGARET
+
+Ay, out of sight is out of mind!
+Politeness easy is to you;
+Friends everywhere, and not a few,
+Wiser than I am, you will find.
+
+FAUST
+
+O dearest, trust me, what doth pass for sense
+Full oft is self-conceit and blindness!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ How?
+
+FAUST
+
+Simplicity and holy innocence--
+When will ye learn your hallow'd worth to know!
+Ah, when will meekness and humility,
+Kind and all-bounteous nature's loftiest dower--
+
+MARGARET
+
+Only one little moment think of me!
+To think of you I shall have many an hour.
+
+FAUST
+
+You are perhaps much alone?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Yes, small our household is, I own,
+Yet must I see to it. No maid we keep,
+And I must cook, sew, knit, and sweep,
+Still early on my feet and late;
+My mother is in all things, great and small,
+So accurate!
+Not that for thrift there is such pressing need,
+Than others we might make more show indeed;
+My father left behind a small estate,
+A house and garden near the city-wall.
+But fairly quiet now my days, I own;
+As soldier is my brother gone;
+My little sister's dead; the babe to rear
+Occasion'd me some care and fond annoy;
+But I would go through all again with joy,
+The darling was to me so dear.
+
+FAUST
+
+An angel, sweet, if it resembled thee!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I reared it up, and it grew fond of me.
+After my father's death it saw the day;
+We gave my mother up for lost, she lay
+In such a wretched plight, and then at length
+So very slowly she regain'd her strength.
+Weak as she was, 'twas vain for her to try
+Herself to suckle the poor babe, so I
+Reared it on milk and water all alone;
+And thus the child became as 'twere my own;
+Within my arms it stretched itself and grew,
+And smiling, nestled in my bosom too.
+
+FAUST
+
+Doubtless the purest happiness was thine.
+
+MARGARET
+
+But many weary hours, in sooth, were also mine.
+At night its little cradle stood
+Close to my bed; so was I wide awake
+If it but stirred;
+One while I was obliged to give it food,
+Or to my arms the darling take;
+From bed full oft must rise, whene'er its cry I heard,
+And, dancing it, must pace the chamber to and fro;
+Stand at the wash-tub early; forthwith go
+To market, and then mind the cooking too--
+Tomorrow like today, the whole year through.
+Ah, sir, thus living, it must be confess'd
+One's spirits are not always of the best;
+Yet it a relish gives to food and rest.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+MARTHA
+
+Poor women! we are badly off, I own;
+A bachelor's conversion's hard, indeed!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Madam, with one like you it rests alone,
+To tutor me a better course to lead.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Speak frankly, sir, none is there you have met?
+Has your heart ne'er attach'd itself as yet?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+One's own fire-side and a good wife are gold
+And pearls of price, so says the proverb old.
+
+MARTHA
+
+I mean, has passion never stirred your breast?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I've everywhere been well received, I own.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Yet hath your heart no earnest preference known?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+With ladies one should ne'er presume to jest.
+
+MARTHA
+
+Ah! you mistake!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I'm sorry I'm so blind!
+But this I know--that you are very kind.
+
+[_They pass on._]
+
+FAUST
+
+Me, little angel, didst thou recognize,
+When in the garden first I came?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou dost forgive my boldness, dost not blame
+The liberty I took that day,
+When thou from church didst lately wend thy way?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I was confused. So had it never been;
+No one of me could any evil say.
+Alas, thought I, he doubtless in thy mien,
+Something unmaidenly or bold hath seen?
+
+[Illustration: FAUST AND MARGARET IN THE GARDEN Liezen-Mayer]
+
+It seemed as if it struck him suddenly,
+Here's just a girl with whom one may make free!
+Yet I must own that then I scarcely knew
+What in your favor here began at once to plead;
+Yet I was angry with myself indeed
+That I more angry could not feel with you.
+
+FAUST
+
+Sweet love!
+
+MARGARET
+
+                   Just wait awhile!
+[_She gathers a star-flower and plucks off the leaves
+one after another._]
+
+FAUST
+
+                    A nosegay may that be?
+
+MARGARET
+
+No! It is but a game.
+
+FAUST
+
+                   How?
+
+MARGARET
+
+                 Go, you'll laugh at me!
+
+[_She plucks off the leaves and murmurs to herself._]
+
+FAUST
+
+What murmurest thou?
+
+MARGARET (_half aloud_)
+
+             He loves me--loves me not.
+
+FAUST
+
+Sweet angel, with thy face of heavenly bliss!
+
+MARGARET (_continues_)
+
+He loves me--not--he loves me--not--
+    [_plucking off the last leaf with fond joy_.]
+
+                     He loves me!
+
+FAUST
+
+                                 Yes!
+And this flower-language, darling, let it be
+A heavenly oracle! He loveth thee!
+Know'st thou the meaning of, He loveth thee?
+                     [_He seizes both her hands._]
+
+MARGARET
+
+I tremble so!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Nay! do not tremble, love!
+Let this hand-pressure, let this glance reveal
+Feelings, all power of speech above;
+To give oneself up wholly and to feel
+A joy that must eternal prove!
+Eternal!--Yes, its end would be despair,
+No end!--It cannot end!
+
+[MARGARET _presses his hand, extricates herself, and
+runs away. He stands a moment in thought, and
+then follows her_.]
+
+MARTHA (_approaching_)
+
+Night's closing.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Yes, we'll presently away.
+
+MARTHA
+
+I would entreat you longer yet to stay;
+But 'tis a wicked place, just here about;
+It is as if the folk had nothing else to do,
+Nothing to think of too,
+But gaping watch their neighbors, who goes in and out;
+And scandal's busy still, do whatsoe'er one may.
+And our young couple?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ They have flown up there,
+The wanton butterflies!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ He seems to take to her.
+And she to him. 'Tis of the world the way!
+
+
+A SUMMER-HOUSE
+
+[MARGARET _runs in, hides behind the door, holds the tip
+of her finger to her lip, and peeps through the
+crevice_.]
+
+MARGARET
+
+He comes!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Ah, little rogue, so thou
+Think'st to provoke me! I have caught thee now!
+
+[_He kisses her._]
+
+MARGARET (_embracing him, and returning the kiss_)
+
+Dearest of men! I love thee from my heart!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_.]
+
+FAUST (_stamping_)
+
+Who's there?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ A friend!
+
+FAUST
+
+ A brute!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ 'Tis time to part.
+
+MARTHA (_comes_)
+
+Ay, it is late, good sir.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Mayn't I attend you, then?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Oh no--my mother would--adieu, adieu!
+
+FAUST
+
+And must I really then take leave of you?
+Farewell!
+
+MARTHA
+
+ Good-bye!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Ere long to meet again!
+
+[_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]
+
+MARGARET
+
+Good heavens! how all things far and near
+Must fill his mind--a man like this!
+Abash'd before him I appear,
+And say to all things only, yes.
+Poor simple child, I cannot see
+What 'tis that he can find in me.
+
+[_Exit._]
+
+FOREST AND CAVERN
+
+FAUST (_alone_)
+
+Spirit sublime! Thou gav'st me, gav'st me all
+For which I prayed! Not vainly hast thou turn'd
+To me thy countenance in flaming fire:
+Gavest me glorious nature for my realm,
+And also power to feel her and enjoy;
+Not merely with a cold and wondering glance,
+Thou dost permit me in her depths profound,
+As in the bosom of a friend to gaze.
+Before me thou dost lead her living tribes,
+And dost in silent grove, in air and stream
+Teach me to know my kindred. And when roars
+The howling storm-blast through the groaning wood,
+Wrenching the giant pine, which in its fall
+Crashing sweeps down its neighbor trunks and boughs,
+While hollow thunder from the hill resounds:
+Then thou dost lead me to some shelter'd cave,
+Dost there reveal me to myself, and show
+Of my own bosom the mysterious depths.
+And when with soothing beam, the moon's pale orb
+Full in my view climbs up the pathless sky,
+From crag and dewy grove, the silvery forms
+Of by-gone ages hover, and assuage
+The joy austere of contemplative thought.
+
+Oh, that naught perfect is assign'd to man,
+I feel, alas! With this exalted joy,
+Which lifts me near, and nearer to the gods,
+Thou gav'st me this companion, unto whom
+I needs must cling, though cold and insolent,
+He still degrades me to myself, and turns
+Thy glorious gifts to nothing, with a breath.
+He in my bosom with malicious zeal
+For that fair image fans a raging fire;
+From craving to enjoyment thus I reel,
+And in enjoyment languish for desire.
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of this lone life have you not had your fill?
+How for so long can it have charms for you?
+'Tis well enough to try it if you will;
+But then away again to something new!
+
+FAUST
+
+Would you could better occupy your leisure,
+Than in disturbing thus my hours of joy.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Well! Well! I'll leave you to yourself with pleasure,
+A serious tone you hardly dare employ.
+To part from one so crazy, harsh, and cross,
+Were not in truth a grievous loss.
+The live-long day, for you I toil and fret;
+Ne'er from his worship's face a hint I get,
+What pleases him, or what to let alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay truly! that is just the proper tone!
+He wearies me, and would with thanks be paid!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Poor Son of Earth, without my aid,
+How would thy weary days have flown?
+Thee of thy foolish whims I've cured,
+Thy vain imaginations banished.
+And but for me, be well assured,
+Thou from this sphere must soon have vanished.
+In rocky hollows and in caverns drear,
+Why like an owl sit moping here?
+Wherefore from dripping stones and moss with ooze embued,
+Dost suck, like any toad, thy food?
+A rare, sweet pastime. Verily!
+The doctor cleaveth still to thee.
+
+FAUST
+
+Dost comprehend what bliss without alloy
+From this wild wand'ring in the desert springs?--
+Couldst thou but guess the new life-power it brings,
+Thou wouldst be fiend enough to envy me my joy.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What super-earthly ecstasy! at night,
+To lie in darkness on the dewy height,
+Embracing heaven and earth in rapture high,
+The soul dilating to a deity;
+With prescient yearnings pierce the core of earth,
+Feel in your laboring breast the six-days' birth,
+Enjoy, in proud delight what no one knows,
+While your love-rapture o'er creation flows--
+The earthly lost in beatific vision,
+And then the lofty intuition--
+
+(_with a gesture_)
+
+I need not tell you how--to close!
+
+FAUST
+
+Fie on you!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ This displeases you? "For shame!"
+You are forsooth entitled to exclaim;
+We to chaste ears it seems must not pronounce
+What, nathless, the chaste heart cannot renounce.
+Well, to be brief, the joy as fit occasions rise,
+I grudge you not, of specious lies.
+But long this mood thou'lt not retain.
+Already thou'rt again outworn,
+And should this last, thou wilt be torn
+By frenzy or remorse and pain.
+Enough of this! Thy true love dwells apart,
+And all to her seems flat and tame;
+Alone thine image fills her heart,
+She loves thee with an all-devouring flame.
+First came thy passion with o'erpowering rush,
+Like mountain torrent, swollen by the melted snow;
+Full in her heart didst pour the sudden gush,
+Now has thy brooklet ceased to flow.
+Instead of sitting throned midst forests wild,
+It would become so great a lord
+To comfort the enamor'd child,
+And the young monkey for her love reward.
+To her the hours seem miserably long;
+She from the window sees the clouds float by
+As o'er the lofty city-walls they fly.
+"If I a birdie were!" so runs her song,
+Half through the night and all day long.
+Cheerful sometimes, more oft at heart full sore;
+Fairly outwept seem now her tears,
+Anon she tranquil is, or so appears,
+And love-sick evermore.
+
+FAUST
+
+Snake! Serpent vile!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+Good! If I catch thee with my guile!
+
+FAUST
+
+Vile reprobate! go get thee hence;
+Forbear the lovely girl to name!
+Nor in my half-distracted sense
+Kindle anew the smouldering flame!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+What wouldest thou! She thinks you've taken flight;
+It seems, she's partly in the right.
+
+FAUST
+
+I'm near her still--and should I distant rove,
+Her I can ne'er forget, ne'er lose her love;
+And all things touch'd by those sweet lips of hers,
+Even the very Host, my envy stirs.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+'Tis well! I oft have envied you indeed,
+The twin-pair that among the roses feed.
+
+FAUST
+
+Pander, avaunt!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Go to! I laugh, the while you rail;
+The power which fashion'd youth and maid
+Well understood the noble trade;
+So neither shall occasion fail.
+But hence!--A mighty grief I trow!
+Unto thy lov'd one's chamber thou
+And not to death shouldst go.
+
+FAUST
+
+What is to me heaven's joy within her arms?
+What though my life her bosom warms!--
+Do I not ever feel her woe?
+The outcast am I not, unhoused, unblest,
+Inhuman monster, without aim or rest,
+Who, like the greedy surge, from rock to rock,
+Sweeps down the dread abyss with desperate shock?
+While she, within her lowly cot, which graced
+The Alpine slope, beside the waters wild,
+Her homely cares in that small world embraced,
+Secluded lived, a simple artless child.
+Was't not enough, in thy delirious whirl
+To blast the stedfast rocks!
+Her, and her peace as well,
+Must I, God-hated one, to ruin hurl!
+Dost claim this holocaust, remorseless Hell!
+Fiend, help me to cut short the hours of dread!
+Let what must happen, happen speedily!
+Her direful doom fall crushing on my head,
+And into ruin let her plunge with me!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Why how again it seethes and glows!
+Away, thou fool! Her torment ease!
+When such a head no issue sees,
+It pictures straight the final close.
+Long life to him who boldly dares!
+A devil's pluck thou'rt wont to show;
+As for a devil who despairs--
+Nothing I find so mawkish here below.
+
+
+MARGARET'S ROOM
+
+MARGARET (_alone at her spinning wheel_)
+
+
+   My peace is gone,
+      My heart is sore,
+    I find it never,
+      And nevermore!
+
+    Where him I have not,
+      Is the grave; and all
+    The world to me
+      Is turned to gall.
+
+    My wilder'd brain
+      Is overwrought;
+    My feeble senses
+      Are distraught.
+
+    My peace is gone,
+      My heart is sore,
+    I find it never,
+      And nevermore!
+
+    For him from the window
+      I gaze, at home;
+    For him and him only
+      Abroad I roam.
+    His lofty step,
+       His bearing high,
+    The smile of his lip,
+       The power of his eye,
+
+    His witching words,
+      Their tones of bliss,
+    His hand's fond pressure,
+      And ah--his kiss!
+
+    My peace is gone,
+      My heart is sore,
+    I find it never,
+      And nevermore.
+
+    My bosom aches
+      To feel him near;
+    Ah, could I clasp
+      And fold him here!
+
+   Kiss him and kiss him
+     Again would I,
+   And on his kisses
+    I fain would die.
+
+
+MARTHA'S GARDEN
+
+MARGARET _and_ FAUST
+
+MARGARET
+
+Promise me, Henry!
+
+FAUST
+
+What I can!
+
+MARGARET
+
+How thy religion fares, I fain would hear.
+Thou art a good kind-hearted man,
+Only that way not well-disposed, I fear.
+
+FAUST
+
+Forbear, my child! Thou feelest thee I love;
+My heart, my blood I'd give, my love to prove,
+And none would of their faith or church bereave.
+
+MARGARET
+
+That's not enough, we must ourselves believe!
+
+FAUST
+
+Must we?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Ah, could I but thy soul inspire!
+Thou honorest not the sacraments, alas!
+
+FAUST
+
+I honor them.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ But yet without desire;
+'Tis long since thou hast been either to shrift or mass.
+Dost thou believe in God?
+
+FAUST
+
+ My darling, who dares say?
+Yes, I in God believe.
+Question or priest or sage, and they
+Seem, in the answer you receive,
+To mock the questioner.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Then thou dost not believe?
+
+FAUST
+
+Sweet one! my meaning do not misconceive!
+Him who dare name,
+And who proclaim--
+Him I believe?
+Who that can feel,
+His heart can steel,
+To say: I believe him not?
+The All-embracer,
+All-sustainer,
+Holds and sustains he not
+Thee, me, himself?
+Lifts not the Heaven its dome above?
+Doth not the firm-set earth beneath us lie?
+And, beaming tenderly with looks of love,
+Climb not the everlasting stars on high?
+Do we not gaze into each other's eyes?
+Nature's impenetrable agencies,
+Are they not thronging on thy heart and brain,
+Viewless, or visible to mortal ken,
+Around thee weaving their mysterious chain?
+Fill thence thy heart, how large soe'er it be;
+And in the feeling when thou utterly art blest,
+Then call it, what thou wilt--
+Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God!
+I have no name for it!
+'Tis feeling all;
+Name is but sound and smoke
+Shrouding the glow of heaven.
+
+MARGARET
+
+All this is doubtless good and fair;
+Almost the same the parson says,
+Only in slightly different phrase.
+
+FAUST
+
+Beneath Heaven's sunshine, everywhere,
+This is the utterance of the human heart;
+Each in his language doth the like impart;
+Then why not I in mine?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ What thus I hear
+Sounds plausible, yet I'm not reconciled;
+There's something wrong about it; much I fear
+That thou art not a Christian.
+
+FAUST
+
+ My sweet child!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas! it long hath sorely troubled me,
+To see thee in such odious company.
+
+FAUST
+
+How so?
+
+MARGARET
+
+ The man who comes with thee, I hate,
+Yea, in my spirit's inmost depths abhor;
+As his loath'd visage, in my life before,
+Naught to my heart e'er gave a pang so great.
+
+FAUST
+
+Him fear not, my sweet love!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ His presence chills my blood.
+Toward all beside I have a kindly mood;
+Yet, though I yearn to gaze on thee, I feel
+At sight of him strange horror o'er me steal;
+That he's a villain my conviction's strong.
+May Heaven forgive me, if I do him wrong!
+
+FAUST
+
+Yet such strange fellows in the world must be!
+
+MARGARET
+
+I would not live with such an one as he.
+If for a moment he but enter here,
+He looks around him with a mocking sneer,
+And malice ill-conceal'd;
+That he with naught on earth can sympathize is clear;
+Upon his brow 'tis legibly revealed
+That to his heart no living soul is dear.
+So blest I feel, within thine arms,
+So warm and happy--free from all alarms;
+And still my heart doth close when he comes near.
+
+FAUST
+
+Foreboding angel! check thy fear!
+
+MARGARET
+
+It so o'ermasters me that when,
+Or wheresoe'er, his step I hear,
+I almost think, no more I love thee then.
+Besides, when he is near, I ne'er could pray.
+This eats into my heart; with thee
+The same, my Henry, it must be.
+
+FAUST
+
+This is antipathy!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ I must away.
+
+FAUST
+
+For one brief hour then may I never rest,
+And heart to heart, and soul to soul be pressed?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Ah, if I slept alone! Tonight
+The bolt I fain would leave undrawn for thee;
+But then my mother's sleep is light,
+Were we surprised by her, ah me!
+Upon the spot I should be dead.
+
+FAUST
+
+Dear angel! there's no cause for dread.
+Here is a little phial--if she take
+Mixed in her drink three drops, 'twill steep
+Her nature in a deep and soothing sleep.
+
+MARGARET
+
+What do I not for thy dear sake!
+To her it will not harmful prove?
+
+FAUST
+
+Should I advise it else, sweet love?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I know not, dearest, when thy face I see,
+What doth my spirit to thy will constrain;
+Already I have done so much for thee,
+That scarcely more to do doth now remain. [_Exit._]
+
+(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_)
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The monkey! Is she gone?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Again hast played the spy?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of all that pass'd I'm well apprized,
+I heard the doctor catechized,
+And trust he'll profit much thereby!
+Fain would the girls inquire indeed
+Touching their lover's faith and creed,
+And whether pious in the good old way;
+They think, if pliant there, us too he will obey.
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou monster, dost not see that this
+Pure soul, possessed by ardent love,
+Full of the living faith,
+To her of bliss
+The only pledge, must holy anguish prove,
+Holding the man she loves fore-doomed to endless death!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Most sensual, supersensualist! The while
+A damsel leads thee by the nose!
+
+FAUST
+
+Of filth and fire abortion vile!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+In physiognomy strange skill she shows;
+She in my presence feels she knows not how;
+My mask it seems a hidden sense reveals;
+That I'm a genius she must needs allow,
+That I'm the very devil perhaps she feels.
+So then tonight--
+
+FAUST
+
+ What's that to you?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I've my amusement in it too!
+
+
+AT THE WELL
+
+MARGARET _and_ BESSY, _with pitchers_
+
+BESSY
+
+Of Barbara hast nothing heard?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I rarely go from home--no, not a word.
+
+BESSY
+
+'Tis true: Sybilla told me so today!
+That comes of being proud, methinks;
+She played the fool at last.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ How so?
+
+BESSY
+
+ They say
+That two she feedeth when she eats and drinks.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Alas!
+
+BESSY
+
+ She's rightly served, in sooth.
+How long she hung upon the youth!
+What promenades, what jaunts there were
+To dancing booth and village fair!
+The first she everywhere must shine,
+He always treating her to pastry and to wine.
+Of her good looks she was so vain,
+So shameless too, that to retain
+His presents, she did not disdain;
+Sweet words and kisses came anon--
+And then the virgin flower was gone.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Poor thing!
+
+BESSY
+
+ Forsooth dost pity her?
+At night, when at our wheels we sat,
+Abroad our mothers ne'er would let us stir.
+Then with her lover she must chat,
+Or on the bench, or in the dusky walk,
+Thinking the hours too brief for their sweet talk;
+Her proud head she will have to bow,
+And in white sheet do penance now!
+
+MARGARET
+
+But he will surely marry her?
+
+BESSY
+
+ Not he!
+He won't be such a fool! a gallant lad
+Like him can roam o'er land and sea;
+Besides, he's off.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ That is not fair!
+
+BESSY
+
+If she should get him, 'twere almost as bad!
+Her myrtle wreath the boys would tear;
+And then we girls would plague her too,
+For we chopp'd straw before her door would strew!
+
+[_Exit._]
+
+MARGARET (_walking toward home_)
+
+How stoutly once I could inveigh,
+If a poor maiden went astray;
+Not words enough my tongue could find,
+'Gainst others' sin to speak my mind!
+Black as it seemed, I blacken'd it still more,
+And strove to make it blacker than before.
+And did myself securely bless--
+Now my own trespass doth appear!
+Yet ah!--what urg'd me to transgress,
+God knows, it was so sweet, so dear!
+
+ZWINGER
+
+_Inclosure between the City-wall and the Gate. (In the niche of the wall a
+devotional image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower-pots before it.)_
+
+MARGARET (_putting fresh flowers in the pots_)
+
+ Ah, rich in sorrow, thou,
+ Stoop thy maternal brow,
+ And mark with pitying eye my misery!
+ The sword in thy pierced heart,
+ Thou dost with bitter smart
+ Gaze upwards on thy Son's death agony.
+ To the dear God on high
+ Ascends thy piteous sigh,
+ Pleading for his and thy sore misery.
+
+ Ah, who can know
+ The torturing woe,
+ The pangs that rack me to the bone?
+ How my poor heart, without relief,
+ Trembles and throbs, its yearning grief
+ Thou knowest, thou alone!
+
+ Ah, wheresoe'er I go,
+ With woe, with woe, with woe,
+ My anguish'd breast is aching!
+ When all alone I creep,
+ I weep, I weep, I weep,
+ Alas! my heart is breaking!
+
+ The flower-pots at my window
+ Were wet with tears of mine,
+ The while I pluck'd these blossoms
+ At dawn to deck thy shrine!
+
+ When early in my chamber
+ Shone bright the rising morn,
+ I sat there on my pallet,
+ My heart with anguish torn.
+
+ Help! from disgrace and death deliver me!
+ Ah! rich in sorrow, thou,
+ Stoop thy maternal brow,
+ And mark with pitying eye my misery!
+
+
+NIGHT. STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR
+
+VALENTINE (_a soldier_, MARGARET's _brother_)
+
+When seated 'mong the jovial crowd,
+Where merry comrades boasting loud
+Each named with pride his favorite lass,
+And in her honor drain'd his glass;
+Upon my elbows I would lean,
+With easy quiet view the scene,
+Nor give my tongue the rein, until
+Each swaggering blade had talked his fill.
+Then smiling I my beard would stroke,
+The while, with brimming glass, I spoke;
+"Each to his taste!--but to my mind,
+Where in the country will you find,
+A maid, as my dear Gretchen fair,
+Who with my sister can compare?"
+Cling! clang! so rang the jovial sound!
+Shouts of assent went circling round;
+Pride of her sex is she!--cried some;
+Then were the noisy boasters dumb.
+
+And now!--I could tear out my hair,
+Or dash my brains out in despair!--
+Me every scurvy knave may twit,
+With stinging jest and taunting sneer!
+Like skulking debtor I must sit,
+And sweat each casual word to hear!
+And though I smash'd them one and all,--
+Yet them I could not liars call.
+ Who comes this way? who's sneaking here?
+ If I mistake not, two draw near.
+ If he be one, have at him;--well I wot
+ Alive he shall not leave this spot!
+
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+FAUST
+
+How far from yon sacristy, athwart the night,
+Its beams the ever-burning taper throws,
+While ever waning, fades the glimmering light,
+As gathering darkness doth around it close!
+So night like gloom doth in my bosom reign.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'm like a tom-cat in a thievish vein
+That up fire-ladders tall and steep
+And round the walls doth slyly creep;
+Virtuous withal I feel, with, I confess.
+A touch of thievish joy and wantonness.
+Thus through my limbs already burns
+The glorious Walpurgis night!
+After tomorrow it returns;
+Then why one wakes, one knows aright!
+
+FAUST
+
+Meanwhile, the treasure I see glimmering there.
+Will it ascend into the open air?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ere long thou wilt proceed with pleasure
+To raise the casket with its treasure;
+I took a peep, therein are stored
+Of lion-dollars a rich hoard.
+
+FAUST
+
+And not a trinket? not a ring?
+Wherewith my lovely girl to deck?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I saw among them some such thing,
+A string of pearls to grace her neck.
+
+FAUST
+
+'Tis well! I'm always loath to go,
+Without some gift my love to show.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Some pleasures gratis to enjoy
+Should surely cause you no annoy.
+While bright with stars the heavens appear,
+I'll sing a masterpiece of art:
+A moral song shall charm her ear,
+More surely to beguile her heart.
+
+(_Sings to the guitar._)
+
+ Kathrina, say,
+ Why lingering stay
+ At dawn of day
+ Before your lover's door?
+ Maiden, beware,
+ Nor enter there,
+ Lest forth you fare,
+ A maiden never more.
+
+ Maiden take heed!
+ Reck well my rede!
+ Is't done, the deed?
+ Good night, you poor, poor thing!
+ The spoiler's lies,
+ His arts despise,
+ Nor yield your prize,
+ Without the marriage ring!
+
+VALENTINE (_steps forward_)
+
+Whom are you luring here? I'll give it you!
+Accursed rat-catchers, your strains I'll end!
+First, to the devil the guitar I'll send!
+Then to the devil with the singer too!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The poor guitar! 'tis done for now.
+
+VALENTINE
+
+Your skull shall follow next, I trow!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Doctor, stand fast! your strength collect!
+Be prompt, and do as I direct.
+Out with your whisk! keep close, I pray,
+I'll parry! do you thrust away!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+Then parry that!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Why not?
+
+
+VALENTINE
+
+ That too!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+With ease!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+ The devil fights for you!
+Why how is this? my hand's already lamed!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Thrust home!
+
+VALENTINE (_falls_)
+
+ Alas!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ There! Now the lubber's tamed!
+But quick, away! We must at once take wing;
+A cry of murder strikes upon the ear;
+With the police I know my course to steer,
+But with the blood-ban 'tis another thing.
+
+MARTHA (_at the window_)
+
+Without! without!
+
+MARGARET (_at the window_)
+
+ Quick, bring a light!
+
+MARTHA (_as above_)
+
+They rail and scuffle, scream and fight!
+
+PEOPLE
+
+One lieth here already dead!
+
+MARTHA (_coming out_)
+
+Where are the murderers? are they fled?
+
+MARGARET (_coming out_)
+
+Who lieth here?
+
+PEOPLE
+
+Thy mother's son.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Almighty God! I am undone!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+I'm dying--'tis a soon-told tale,
+And sooner done the deed.
+Why, women, do ye howl and wail?
+To my last words give heed!
+
+[_All gather round him._]
+
+My Gretchen, see! still young art thou,
+Art not discreet enough, I trow,
+Thou dost thy matters ill;
+Let this in confidence be said:
+Since thou the path of shame dost tread,
+Tread it with right good will!
+
+MARGARET
+
+My brother! God! what can this mean?
+
+VALENTINE
+
+ Abstain,
+Nor dare God's holy name profane!
+What's done, alas, is done and past!
+Matters will take their course at last;
+By stealth thou dost begin with one,
+Others will follow him anon;
+And when a dozen thee have known,
+Thou'lt common be to all the town.
+When infamy is newly born,
+In secret she is brought to light,
+And the mysterious veil of night
+O'er head and ears is drawn;
+The loathsome birth men fain would slay;
+But soon, full grown, she waxes bold,
+And though not fairer to behold,
+With brazen front insults the day:
+The more abhorrent to the sight,
+The more she courts the day's pure light,
+The time already I discern,
+When thee all honest folk will spurn,
+And shun thy hated form to meet,
+As when a corpse infects the street.
+Thy heart will sink in blank despair,
+When they shall look thee in the face!
+A golden chain no more thou'lt wear!
+Nor near the altar take in church thy place!
+In fair lace collar simply dight
+Thou'lt dance no more with spirits light!
+In darksome corners thou wilt bide,
+Where beggars vile and cripples hide,
+And e'en though God thy crime forgive,
+On earth, a thing accursed, thou'lt live!
+
+MARTHA
+
+Your parting soul to God commend!
+Your dying breath in slander will you spend?
+
+VALENTINE
+
+Could I but reach thy wither'd frame,
+Thou wretched beldame, void of shame!
+Full measure I might hope to win
+Of pardon then for every sin.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Brother! what agonizing pain!
+
+VALENTINE
+
+I tell thee, from vain tears abstain!
+'Twas thy dishonor pierced my heart,
+Thy fall the fatal death-stab gave.
+Through the death-sleep I now depart
+To God, a soldier true and brave.
+
+[_Dies._]
+
+
+CATHEDRAL
+
+_Service, Organ, and Anthem._
+
+MARGARET _amongst a number of people_
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT _behind_ MARGARET
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+[Illustration: VALENTINE'S DEATH Franz Simm]
+
+How different, Gretchen, was it once with thee,
+When thou, still full of innocence,
+Here to the altar camest,
+And from the small and well-con'd book
+Didst lisp thy prayer,
+Half childish sport,
+Half God in thy young heart!
+Gretchen!
+What thoughts are thine?
+What deed of shame
+Lurks in thy sinful heart?
+Is thy prayer utter'd for thy mother's soul,
+Who into long, long torment slept through thee?
+Whose blood is on thy threshold?--
+And stirs there not already 'neath thy heart
+Another quick'ning pulse, that even now
+Tortures itself and thee
+With its foreboding presence?
+
+MARGARET
+
+Woe! Woe!
+Oh, could I free me from the thoughts
+That hither, thither, crowd upon my brain,
+Against my will!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Dies irae, dies illa,
+ Solvet saeclum in favilla._
+
+[_The organ sounds._]
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+ Grim horror seizes thee!
+ The trumpet sounds!
+ The graves are shaken!
+ And thy heart
+ From ashy rest
+ For torturing flames
+ Anew created,
+ Trembles into life!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Would I were hence!
+ It is as if the organ
+ Choked my breath,
+ As if the choir
+ Melted my inmost heart!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Judex ergo cum sedebit,
+ Quidquid latet adparebit,
+ Nil inultum remanebit._
+
+MARGARET
+
+ I feel oppressed!
+ The pillars of the wall
+ Imprison me!
+ The vaulted roof
+ Weighs down upon me!--air!
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+ Wouldst hide thee? sin and shame
+ Remain not hidden!
+ Air! light!
+ Woe's thee!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
+ Quem patronum rogaturus!
+ Cum vix justus sit securus._
+
+EVIL-SPIRIT
+
+ The glorified their faces turn
+ Away from thee!
+ Shudder the pure to reach
+ Their hands to thee!
+ Woe!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ _Quid sum miser tunc dicturus_--
+
+MARGARET
+
+Neighbor! your smelling bottle!
+
+[_She swoons away._]
+
+[Illustration: MARGARET'S DOWNFALL _From the Painting by Wilhelm von
+Kaulbach_]
+
+
+WALPURGIS-NIGHT
+
+THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. DISTRICT OF
+SCHIERKE AND ELEND
+
+FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A broomstick dost thou not at least desire?
+The roughest he-goat fain would I bestride,
+By this road from our goal we're still far wide.
+
+FAUST
+
+While fresh upon my legs, so long I naught require,
+Except this knotty staff. Beside,
+What boots it to abridge a pleasant way?
+Along the labyrinth of these vales to creep,
+Then scale these rocks, whence, in eternal spray,
+Adown the cliffs the silvery fountains leap:
+Such is the joy that seasons paths like these!
+Spring weaves already in the birchen trees;
+E'en the late pine-grove feels her quickening powers;
+Should she not work within these limbs of ours?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Naught of this genial influence do I know!
+Within me all is wintry. Frost and snow
+I should prefer my dismal path to bound.
+How sadly, yonder, with belated glow
+Rises the ruddy moon's imperfect round,
+Shedding so faint a light, at every tread
+One's sure to stumble 'gainst a rock or tree!
+An Ignis Fatuus I must call instead.
+Yonder one burning merrily, I see.
+Holla! my friend! may I request your light?
+Why should you flare away so uselessly?
+Be kind enough to show us up the height!
+
+IGNIS FATUUS
+
+Through reverence, I hope I may subdue
+The lightness of my nature; true,
+Our course is but a zigzag one.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Ho! ho!
+So men, forsooth, he thinks to imitate!
+Now, in the devil's name, for once go straight!
+Or out at once your flickering life I'll blow.
+
+IGNIS FATUUS
+
+That you are master here is obvious quite;
+To do your will, I'll cordially essay;
+Only reflect! The hill is magic-mad tonight;
+And if to show the path you choose a meteor's light,
+You must not wonder should we go astray.
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, IGNIS FATUUS (_in alternate song_)
+
+ Through the dream and magic-sphere,
+ As it seems, we now are speeding;
+ Honor win, us rightly leading,
+ That betimes we may appear
+ In yon wide and desert region!
+
+ Trees on trees, a stalwart legion,
+ Swiftly past us are retreating,
+ And the cliffs with lowly greeting;
+ Rocks long-snouted, row on row,
+ How they snort, and how they blow!
+
+ Through the stones and heather springing,
+ Brook and brooklet haste below;
+ Hark the rustling! Hark the singing!
+ Hearken to love's plaintive lays;
+ Voices of those heavenly days--
+ What we hope, and what we love!
+ Like a tale of olden time,
+ Echo's voice prolongs the chime.
+ To-whit! To-who! It sounds more near;
+ Plover, owl, and jay appear,
+ All awake, around, above?
+ Paunchy salamanders too
+ Peer, long-limbed, the bushes through!
+ And, like snakes, the roots of trees
+ Coil themselves from rock and sand,
+ Stretching many a wondrous band,
+ Us to frighten, us to seize;
+ From rude knots with life embued,
+ Polyp-fangs abroad they spread,
+ To snare the wanderer! 'Neath our tread,
+ Mice, in myriads, thousand-hued,
+ Through the heath and through the moss!
+ And the fire-flies' glittering throng,
+ Wildering escort, whirls along,
+ Here and there, our path across.
+
+ Tell me, stand we motionless,
+ Or still forward do we press?
+ All things round us whirl and fly,
+ Rocks and trees make strange grimaces,
+ Dazzling meteors change their places--
+ How they puff and multiply!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now grasp my doublet--we at last
+A central peak have reached, which shows,
+If round a wondering glance we cast,
+How in the mountain Mammon glows.
+
+FAUST
+
+How through the chasms strangely gleams,
+A lurid light, like dawn's red glow,
+Pervading with its quivering beams,
+The gorges of the gulf below!
+Here vapors rise, there clouds float by,
+Here through the mist the light doth shine;
+Now, like a fount, it bursts on high,
+Meanders now, a slender line;
+Far reaching, with a hundred veins,
+Here through the valley see it glide;
+Here, where its force the gorge restrains,
+At once it scatters, far and wide;
+Anear, like showers of golden sand
+Strewn broadcast, sputter sparks of light:
+And mark yon rocky walls that stand
+Ablaze, in all their towering height!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Doth not Sir Mammon for this fete
+Grandly illume his palace! Thou
+Art lucky to have seen it; now,
+The boisterous guests, I feel, are coming straight.
+
+FAUST
+
+How through the air the storm doth whirl!
+Upon my neck it strikes with sudden shock.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Cling to these ancient ribs of granite rock,
+Else to yon depths profound it you will hurl.
+A murky vapor thickens night.
+Hark! Through the woods the tempests roar!
+The owlets flit in wild affright.
+Hark! Splinter'd are the columns that upbore
+The leafy palace, green for aye:
+The shivered branches whirr and sigh,
+Yawn the huge trunks with mighty groan,
+The roots, upriven, creak and moan!
+In fearful and entangled fall,
+One crashing ruin whelms them all,
+While through the desolate abyss,
+Sweeping the wreck-strewn precipice,
+The raging storm-blasts howl and hiss!
+Aloft strange voices dost thou hear?
+Distant now and now more near?
+Hark! the mountain ridge along,
+Streameth a raving magic-song!
+
+WITCHES (_in chorus_)
+
+ Now to the Brocken the witches hie,
+ The stubble is yellow, the corn is green;
+ Thither the gathering legions fly,
+ And sitting aloft is Sir Urian seen:
+ O'er stick and o'er stone they go whirling along,
+ Witches and he-goats, a motley throng.
+
+VOICES
+
+ Alone old Baubo's coming now;
+ She rides upon a farrow sow.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Honor to her, to whom honor is due!
+ Forward, Dame Baubo! Honor to you!
+ A goodly sow and mother thereon,
+ The whole witch chorus follows anon.
+
+VOICE
+
+Which way didst come?
+
+
+VOICE
+
+ O'er Ilsenstein!
+There I peep'd in an owlet's nest.
+With her broad eye she gazed in mine!
+
+VOICE
+
+Drive to the devil, thou hellish pest!
+Why ride so hard?
+
+VOICE
+
+ She has graz'd my side,
+Look at the wounds, how deep and how wide!
+
+WITCHES (_in chorus_)
+
+ The way is broad, the way is long;
+ What mad pursuit! What tumult wild!
+ Scratches the besom and sticks the prong;
+ Crush'd is the mother, and stifled the child.
+
+WIZARDS (_half chorus_)
+
+ Like house-encumber'd snail we creep;
+ While far ahead the women keep,
+ For when to the devil's house we speed,
+ By a thousand steps they take the lead.
+
+THE OTHER HALF
+
+ Not so, precisely do we view it;
+ They with a thousand steps may do it;
+ But let them hasten as they can,
+ With one long bound 'tis clear'd by man.
+
+VOICES (_above_)
+
+Come with us, come with us from Felsensee.
+
+VOICES (_from below_)
+
+Aloft to you we would mount with glee!
+We wash, and free from all stain are we,
+Yet barren evermore must be!
+
+BOTH CHORUSES
+
+ The wind is hushed, the stars grow pale,
+ The pensive moon her light doth veil;
+ And whirling on, the magic choir
+ Sputters forth sparks of drizzling fire.
+
+VOICE (_from below_)
+
+Stay! stay!
+
+VOICE (_from above_)
+
+ What voice of woe
+Calls from the cavern'd depths below?
+
+VOICE (_from below_)
+
+Take me with you! Oh take me too!
+Three centuries I climb in vain,
+And yet can ne'er the summit gain!
+To be with my kindred I am fain.
+
+BOTH CHORUSES
+
+ Broom and pitch-fork, goat and prong,
+ Mounted on these we whirl along;
+ Who vainly strives to climb tonight,
+ Is evermore a luckless wight!
+
+DEMI-WITCH (_below_)
+
+I hobble after, many a day;
+Already the others are far away!
+No rest at home can I obtain--
+Here too my efforts are in vain!
+
+CHORUS OF WITCHES
+
+ Salve gives the witches strength to rise;
+ A rag for a sail does well enough;
+ A goodly ship is every trough;
+ Tonight who flies not, never flies.
+
+BOTH CHORUSES
+
+ And when the topmost peak we round,
+ Then alight ye on the ground;
+ The heath's wide regions cover ye
+ With your mad swarms of witchery!
+
+[_They let themselves down._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+They crowd and jostle, whirl and flutter!
+They whisper, babble, twirl, and splutter!
+They glimmer, sparkle, stink and flare--
+A true witch-element! Beware!
+Stick close! else we shall severed be.
+Where art thou?
+
+FAUST (_in the distance_)
+
+ Here!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Already, whirl'd so far away!
+The master then indeed I needs must play.
+Give ground! Squire Voland comes! Sweet folk, give ground!
+Here, doctor, grasp me! With a single bound
+Let us escape this ceaseless jar;
+Even for me too mad these people are.
+Hard by there shineth something with peculiar glare,
+Yon brake allureth me; it is not far;
+Come, come along with me! we'll slip in there.
+
+FAUST
+
+Spirit of contradiction! Lead! I'll follow straight!
+'Twas wisely done, however, to repair
+On May-night to the Brocken, and when there,
+By our own choice ourselves to isolate!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Mark, of those flames the motley glare!
+A merry club assembles there.
+In a small circle one is not alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+I'd rather be above, though, I must own!
+Already fire and eddying smoke I view;
+The impetuous millions to the devil ride;
+Full many a riddle will be there untied.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Ay! and full many a riddle tied anew.
+But let the great world rave and riot!
+Here will we house ourselves in quiet.
+A custom 'tis of ancient date,
+Our lesser worlds within the great world to create!
+Young witches there I see, naked and bare,
+And old ones, veil'd more prudently.
+For my sake only courteous be!
+The trouble small, the sport is rare.
+Of instruments I hear the cursed din--
+One must get used to it. Come in! come in!
+There's now no help for it. I'll step before,
+And introducing you as my good friend,
+Confer on you one obligation more.
+How say you now? 'Tis no such paltry room;
+Why only look, you scarce can see the end.
+A hundred fires in rows disperse the gloom;
+They dance, they talk, they cook, make love, and drink:
+Where could we find aught better, do you think?
+
+FAUST
+
+To introduce us, do you purpose here
+As devil or as wizard to appear?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Though I am wont indeed to strict incognito,
+Yet upon gala-days one must one's orders show.
+No garter have I to distinguish me,
+Nathless the cloven foot doth here give dignity.
+Seest thou yonder snail? Crawling this way she hies;
+With searching feelers, she, no doubt,
+Hath me already scented out;
+Here, even if I would, for me there's no disguise.
+From fire to fire, we'll saunter at our leisure,
+The gallant you, I'll cater for your pleasure.
+
+(_To a party seated round, some expiring embers_)
+
+Old gentleman, apart, why sit ye moping here?
+Ye in the midst should be of all this jovial cheer,
+Girt round with noise and youthful riot;
+At home one surely has enough of quiet.
+
+GENERAL
+
+In nations put his trust, who may,
+Whate'er for them one may have done;
+For with the people, as with women, they
+Honor your rising stars alone!
+
+MINISTER
+
+Now all too far they wander from the right;
+I praise the good old ways, to them I hold,
+Then was the genuine age of gold,
+When we ourselves were foremost in men's sight.
+
+PARVENU
+
+Ne'er were we 'mong your dullards found,
+And what we ought not, that to do were fair;
+Yet now are all things turning round and round,
+When on firm basis we would them maintain.
+
+AUTHOR
+
+Who, as a rule, a treatise now would care
+To read, of even moderate sense?
+As for the rising generation, ne'er
+Has youth displayed such arrogant pretense.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_suddenly appearing very old_)
+
+Since for the last time I the Brocken scale,
+That folk are ripe for doomsday, now one sees;
+And just because my cask begins to fail,
+So the whole world is also on the lees.
+
+HUCKSTER-WITCH
+
+Stop, gentlemen, nor pass me by,
+Of wares I have a choice collection:
+Pray honor them with your inspection.
+Lose not this opportunity!
+Yet nothing in my booth you'll find
+Without its counterpart on earth; there's naught,
+Which to the world, and to mankind,
+Hath not some direful mischief wrought.
+No dagger here, which hath not flow'd with blood,
+No chalice, whence, into some healthy frame
+Hath not been poured hot poison's wasting flood.
+No trinket, but hath wrought some woman's shame,
+No weapon but hath cut some sacred tie,
+Or from behind hath stabb'd an enemy.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gossip! For wares like these the time's gone by,
+What's done is past! what's past is done!
+With novelties your booth supply;
+Us novelties attract alone.
+
+FAUST
+
+May this wild scene my senses spare!
+This, may in truth be called a fair!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Upward the eddying concourse throng;
+Thinking to push, thyself art push'd along.
+
+FAUST
+
+Who's that, pray?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Mark her well! That's Lilith.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Who?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Adam's first wife. Of her rich locks beware!
+That charm in which she's parallel'd by few,
+When in its toils a youth she doth ensnare
+He will not soon escape, I promise you.
+
+FAUST
+
+There sit a pair, the old one with the young;
+Already they have bravely danced and sprung!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Here there is no repose today.
+Another dance begins; we'll join it, come away!
+
+FAUST (_dancing with the young one_)
+
+ Once a fair vision came to me;
+ Therein I saw an apple-tree,
+ Two beauteous apples charmed mine eyes;
+ I climb'd forthwith to reach the prize.
+
+THE FAIR ONE
+
+ Apples still fondly ye desire,
+ From paradise it hath been so.
+ Feelings of joy my breast inspire
+ That such too in my garden grow.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_with the old one_)
+
+ Once a weird vision came to me;
+ Therein I saw a rifted tree.
+ It had a.....;
+ But as it was it pleased me too.
+
+THE OLD ONE
+
+ I beg most humbly to salute
+ The gallant with the cloven foot!
+ Let him ... have ready here,
+ If he a ... does not fear.
+
+PROCTOPHANTASMIST
+
+Accursed mob! How dare ye thus to meet?
+Have I not shown and demonstrated too,
+That ghosts stand not on ordinary feet?
+Yet here ye dance, as other mortals do!
+
+THE FAIR ONE (_dancing_)
+
+Then at our ball, what doth he here?
+
+FAUST (_dancing_)
+
+Oh! He must everywhere appear.
+He must adjudge, when others dance;
+If on each step his say's not said,
+So is that step as good as never made.
+He's most annoyed, so soon as we advance;
+If ye would circle in one narrow round.
+As he in his old mill, then doubtless he
+Your dancing would approve,--especially
+If ye forthwith salute him with respect profound!
+
+PROCTOPHANTASMIST
+
+Still here! what arrogance! unheard of quite!
+Vanish; we now have fill'd the world with light!
+Laws are unheeded by the devil's host;
+Wise as we are, yet Tegel hath its ghost!
+How long at this conceit I've swept with all my might,
+Lost is the labor: 'tis unheard of quite!
+
+THE FAIR ONE
+
+Cease here to tease us any more, I pray.
+
+PROCTOPHANTASMIST
+
+Spirits, I plainly to your face declare:
+No spiritual control myself will bear,
+Since my own spirit can exert no sway.
+
+[_The dancing continues._]
+
+Tonight, I see, I shall in naught succeed;
+But I'm prepar'd my travels to pursue,
+And hope, before my final step indeed,
+To triumph over bards and devils too.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now in some puddle will he take his station,
+Such is his mode of seeking consolation;
+Where leeches, feasting on his rump, will drain
+Spirits alike and spirit from his brain.
+
+(_To_ FAUST, _who has left the dance_)
+
+But why the charming damsel leave, I pray,
+Who to you in the dance so sweetly sang?
+
+FAUST
+
+Ah! in the very middle of her lay,
+Out of her mouth a small red mouse there sprang.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Suppose there did! One must not be too nice.
+'Twas well it was not gray, let that suffice.
+Who 'mid his pleasures for a trifle cares?
+
+FAUST
+
+Then saw I--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ What?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Mephisto, seest thou there
+Standing far off, a lone child, pale and fair!
+Slow from the spot her drooping form she tears,
+And seems with shackled feet to move along;
+I own, within me the delusion's strong,
+That she the likeness of my Gretchen wears.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Gaze not upon her! 'Tis not good! Forbear!
+'Tis lifeless, magical, a shape of air,
+An idol. Such to meet with, bodes no good;
+That rigid look of hers doth freeze man's blood,
+And well-nigh petrifies his heart to stone:--
+The story of Medusa thou hast known.
+
+FAUST
+
+Ay, verily! a corpse's eyes are those,
+Which there was no fond loving hand to close.
+That is the bosom I so fondly press'd,
+That my sweet Gretchen's form, so oft caress'd!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Deluded fool! 'Tis magic, I declare!
+To each she doth his lov'd one's image wear.
+
+FAUST
+
+What bliss! what torture! vainly I essay
+To turn me from that piteous look away.
+How strangely doth a single crimson line
+Around that lovely neck its coil entwine,
+It shows no broader than a knife's blunt edge!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Quite right. I see it also, and allege
+That she beneath her arm her head can bear,
+Since Perseus cut it off.--But you I swear
+Are craving for illusions still!
+Come then, ascend yon little hill!
+As on the Prater all is gay,
+And if my senses are not gone,
+I see a theatre,--what's going on?
+
+SERVIBILIS
+
+They are about to recommence;--the play,
+Will be the last of seven, and spick-span new--
+'Tis usual here that number to present.
+A dilettante did the piece invent,
+And dilettanti will enact it too.
+Excuse me, gentlemen; to me's assign'd,
+As dilettante to uplift the curtain.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You on the Blocksberg I'm rejoiced to find,
+That 'tis your most appropriate sphere is certain.
+
+WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM; OR, OBERON AND
+TITANIA'S GOLDEN WEDDING-FEAST
+
+
+INTERMEZZO
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THEATRE
+
+
+MANAGER
+
+  Vales, where mists still shift and play,
+   To ancient hill succeeding,--
+  These our scenes;--so we, today,
+   May rest, brave sons of Mieding.
+
+  HERALD
+
+  That the marriage golden be,
+   Must fifty years be ended;
+  More dear this feast of gold to me,
+   Contention now suspended.
+
+  OBERON
+
+  Spirits, if present, grace the scene,
+   And if with me united,
+  Then gratulate the king and queen,
+   Their troth thus newly plighted!
+
+  PUCK
+
+  Puck draws near and wheels about,
+   In mazy circles dancing!
+  Hundreds swell his joyous shout,
+   Behind him still advancing.
+
+  ARIEL
+
+  Ariel wakes his dainty air,
+   His lyre celestial stringing.--
+  Fools he lureth, and the fair,
+   With his celestial singing.
+
+  OBERON
+
+  Wedded ones, would ye agree,
+   We court your imitation:
+  Would ye fondly love as we,
+   We counsel separation.
+
+  TITANIA
+
+  If husband scold and wife retort,
+   Then bear them far asunder;
+  Her to the burning south transport,
+   And him the North Pole under.
+
+  THE WHOLE ORCHESTRA (_fortissimo_)
+
+  Flies and midges all unite
+   With frog and chirping cricket,
+  Our orchestra throughout the night,
+   Resounding in the thicket!
+
+  (_Solo_)
+
+  Yonder doth the bagpipe come!
+   Its sack an airy bubble.
+  Schnick, schnick, schnack, with nasal hum,
+   Its notes it doth redouble.
+
+  EMBRYO SPIRIT
+
+  Spider's foot and midge's wing,
+   A toad in form and feature;
+  Together verses it can string,
+   Though scarce a living creature.
+
+  A LITTLE PAIR
+
+  Tiny step and lofty bound,
+   Through dew and exhalation;
+  Ye trip it deftly on the ground,
+   But gain no elevation.
+
+  INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER
+
+  Can I indeed believe my eyes?
+   Is't not mere masquerading?
+  What! Oberon in beauteous guise,
+   Among the groups parading!
+
+  ORTHODOX
+
+  No claws, no tail to whisk about,
+   To fright us at our revel;
+  Yet like the gods of Greece, no doubt,
+   He too's a genuine devil.
+
+  NORTHERN ARTIST
+
+  These that I'm hitting off today
+   Are sketches unpretending;
+  Toward Italy without delay,
+   My steps I think of bending.
+
+  PURIST
+
+  Alas! ill-fortune leads me here,
+   Where riot still grows louder;
+  And 'mong the witches gather'd here,
+   But two alone wear powder!
+
+  YOUNG WITCH
+
+  Your powder and your petticoat,
+   Suit hags, there's no gainsaying;
+  Hence I sit fearless on my goat,
+   My naked charms displaying.
+
+  MATRON
+
+  We're too well-bred to squabble here,
+   Or insult back to render;
+  But may you wither soon, my dear,
+   Although so young and tender.
+
+  LEADER OF THE BAND
+
+  Nose of fly and gnat's proboscis,
+   Throng not the naked beauty!
+  Frogs and crickets in the mosses,
+   Keep time and do your duty!
+
+  WEATHERCOCK (_toward one side_)
+
+  What charming company I view
+   Together here collected!
+  Gay bachelors, a hopeful crew,
+   And brides so unaffected!
+
+  WEATHERCOCK (_toward the other side_)
+
+  Unless indeed the yawning ground
+   Should open to receive them,
+  From this vile crew, with sudden bound,
+   To Hell I'd jump and leave them.
+
+  XENIEN
+
+  With small sharp shears, in insect guise,
+   Behold us at your revel!
+  That we may tender, filial-wise,
+   Our homage to the devil.
+
+
+  HENNINGS
+
+  Look now at yonder eager crew,
+   How naively they're jesting!
+  That they have tender hearts and true,
+   They stoutly keep protesting!
+
+
+  MUSAGET
+
+  Oneself amid this witchery
+   How pleasantly one loses;
+  For witches easier are to me
+   To govern than the Muses!
+
+
+  CI-DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE
+
+  With proper folks when we appear,
+   No one can then surpass us!
+  Keep close, wide is the Blocksberg here
+   As Germany's Parnassus.
+
+  INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER
+
+  How name ye that stiff formal man,
+   Who strides with lofty paces?
+  He tracks the game where'er he can,
+   "He scents the Jesuits' traces."
+
+  CRANE
+
+  Where waters troubled are or clear,
+   To fish I am delighted;
+  Thus pious gentlemen appear
+   With devils here united.
+
+  WORLDLING
+
+  By pious people, it is true,
+   No medium is rejected;
+  Conventicles, and not a few,
+   On Blocksberg are erected.
+
+  DANCER
+
+  Another chorus now succeeds,
+   Far off the drums are beating.
+  Be still! The bitterns 'mong the reeds
+   Their one note are repeating.
+
+  DANCING MASTER
+
+  Each twirls about and never stops,
+   And as he can he fareth.
+  The crooked leaps, the clumsy hops,
+   Nor for appearance careth.
+
+  FIDDLER
+
+  To take each other's life, I trow,
+   Would cordially delight them!
+  As Orpheus' lyre the beasts, so now
+   The bagpipe doth unite them.
+
+  DOGMATIST
+
+  My views, in spite of doubt and sneer,
+   I hold with stout persistence,
+  Inferring from the devils here,
+   The evil one's existence.
+
+  IDEALIST
+
+  My every sense rules Phantasy
+   With sway quite too potential;
+  Sure I'm demented if the _I_
+   Alone is the essential.
+
+  REALIST
+
+  This entity's a dreadful bore,
+   And cannot choose but vex me;
+  The ground beneath me ne'er before
+   Thus totter'd to perplex me.
+
+  SUPERNATURALIST
+
+  Well pleased assembled here I view
+   Of spirits this profusion;
+  From devils, touching angels too,
+   I gather some conclusion.
+
+  SCEPTIC
+
+  The ignis fatuus they track out,
+   And think they're near the treasure.
+  Devil alliterates with doubt,
+   Here I abide with pleasure.
+
+  LEADER OF THE BAND
+
+  Frog and cricket in the mosses,--
+  Confound your gasconading!
+  Nose of fly and gnat's proboscis;--
+  Most tuneful serenading!
+
+  THE KNOWING ONES
+
+  Sans souci, so this host we greet,
+   Their jovial humor showing;
+  There's now no walking on our feet,
+   So on our heads we're going.
+
+  THE AWKWARD ONES
+
+  In seasons past we snatch'd, 'tis true,
+   Some tit-bits by our cunning;
+  Our shoes, alas, are now danced through,
+   On our bare soles we're running.
+
+  WILL-O'-THE-WISPS
+
+  From marshy bogs we sprang to light,
+   Yet here behold us dancing;
+  The gayest gallants of the night,
+   In glitt'ring rows advancing.
+
+  SHOOTING STAR
+
+  With rapid motion from on high,
+   I shot in starry splendor;
+  Now prostrate on the grass I lie;--
+   Who aid will kindly render?
+
+  THE MASSIVE ONES
+
+  Room! wheel round! They're coming! lo!
+   Down sink the bending grasses.
+  Though spirits, yet their limbs, we know,
+   Are huge substantial masses.
+
+   PUCK
+
+  Don't stamp so heavily, I pray;
+   Like elephants you're treading!
+  And 'mong the elves be Puck today,
+   The stoutest at the wedding!
+
+  ARIEL
+
+  If nature boon, or subtle sprite,
+   Endow your soul with pinions;--
+  Then follow to you rosy height,
+   Through ether's calm dominions!
+
+  ORCHESTRA (_pianissimo_)
+
+  Drifting cloud and misty wreathes
+   Are fill'd with light elysian;
+  O'er reed and leaf the zephyr breathes--
+   So fades the fairy vision!
+
+
+A GLOOMY DAY. A PLAIN
+
+FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+
+FAUST
+
+In misery! despairing! long wandering pitifully on the face of the
+earth and now imprisoned! This gentle hapless creature, immured in the
+dungeon as a malefactor and reserved for horrid tortures! That it
+should come to this! To this!--Perfidious, worthless spirit, and this
+thou hast concealed from me!--Stand! ay, stand! roll in malicious rage
+thy fiendish eyes! Stand and brave me with thine insupportable
+presence! Imprisoned! In hopeless misery! Delivered over to the power
+of evil spirits and the judgment of unpitying humanity!--And me, the
+while, thou went lulling with tasteless dissipations, concealing from
+me her growing anguish, and leaving her to perish without help!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+She is not the first.
+
+FAUST
+
+Hound! Execrable monster!--Back with him, oh thou infinite spirit!
+back with the reptile into his dog's shape, in which it was his wont
+to scamper before me at eventide, to roll before the feet of the
+harmless wanderer, and to fasten on his shoulders when he fell! Change
+him again into his favorite shape, that he may crouch on his belly
+before me in the dust, whilst I spurn him with my foot, the
+reprobate!--Not the first!--Woe! Woe! By no human soul is it
+conceivable, that more than one human creature has ever sunk into a
+depth of wretchedness like this, or that the first in her writhing
+death-agony should not have atoned in the sight of all-pardoning
+Heaven for the guilt of all the rest! The misery of this one pierces
+me to the very marrow, and harrows up my soul; thou art grinning
+calmly over the doom of thousands!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Now we are once again at our wit's end, just where the reason of you
+mortals snaps! Why dost thou seek our fellowship, if thou canst not go
+through with it? Wilt fly, and art not proof against dizziness? Did we
+force ourselves on thee, or thou on us?
+
+FAUST
+
+Cease thus to gnash thy ravenous fangs at me! I loathe thee!--Great
+and glorious spirit, thou who didst vouchsafe to reveal thyself unto
+me, thou who dost know my very heart and soul, why hast thou linked me
+with this base associate, who feeds on mischief and revels in
+destruction?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Hast done?
+
+FAUST
+
+Save her!--or woe to thee! The direst of curses on thee for thousands
+of years!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I cannot loose the bands of the avenger, nor withdraw his bolts.--Save
+her!--Who was it plunged her into perdition? I or thou?
+
+FAUST (_looks wildly around_)
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Would'st grasp the thunder? Well for you, poor mortals, that 'tis not
+yours to wield! To smite to atoms the being, however innocent, who
+obstructs his path, such is the tyrant's fashion of relieving himself
+in difficulties!
+
+FAUST
+
+Convey me thither! She shall be free!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+And the danger to which thou dost expose thyself? Know, the guilt of
+blood, shed by thy hand, lies yet upon the town. Over the place where
+fell the murdered one, avenging spirits hover and watch for the
+returning murderer.
+
+FAUST
+
+This too from thee? The death and downfall of a world be on thee,
+monster! Conduct me thither, I say and set her free!
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I will conduct thee. And what I can do,--hear! Have I all power in
+heaven and upon earth? I'll cloud the senses of the warder,--do thou
+possess thyself of the keys and lead her forth with human hand! I will
+keep watch! The magic steeds are waiting, I bear thee off. Thus much
+is in my power.
+
+FAUST
+
+Up and away!
+
+
+NIGHT. OPEN COUNTRY
+
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+(_Rushing along on black horses_)
+
+FAUST
+
+What weave they yonder round the Ravenstone?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I know not what they shape and brew.
+
+FAUST
+
+They're soaring, swooping, bending, stooping.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A witches' pack.
+
+FAUST
+
+ They charm, they strew.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+               On! On!
+
+
+DUNGEON
+
+FAUST (_with a bunch of keys and a lamp before a small iron door_)
+
+A fear unwonted o'er my spirit falls;
+Man's concentrated woe o'erwhelms me here!
+She dwells immur'd within these dripping walls;
+Her only trespass a delusion dear!
+Thou lingerest at the fatal door?
+Thou dread'st to see her face once more?
+On! While thou dalliest, draws her death-hour near.
+
+[_He seizes the lock. Singing within._]
+
+ My mother, the harlot,
+ She took me and slew!
+ My father, the scoundrel,
+ Hath eaten me too!
+ My sweet little sister
+ Hath all my bones laid,
+ Where soft breezes whisper
+ All in the cool shade!
+ Then became I a wood-bird, and sang on the spray,
+ Fly away! little bird, fly away! fly away!
+
+FAUST (_opening the lock_)
+
+Ah! she forebodes not that her lover's near,
+The clanking chains, the rustling straw, to hear.
+                              [_He enters._]
+
+MARGARET (_hiding her face in the bed of straw_)
+
+Woe! woe! they come! oh bitter 'tis to die!
+
+FAUST (_Softly_)
+
+Hush! hush! be still! I come to set thee free.
+
+MARGARET (_throwing herself at his feet_)
+
+If thou art human, feel my misery!
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou wilt awake the jailer with thy cry!
+
+[_He grasps the chains to unlock them._]
+
+MARGARET (_on her knees_)
+
+Who, headsman, unto thee this power
+O'er me could give?
+Thou com'st for me at midnight-hour.
+Be merciful, and let me live!
+Is morrow's dawn not time enough?
+                   [_She stands up._]
+
+I'm still so young, so young--
+And must so early die!
+Fair was I too, and that was my undoing.
+My love is now afar, he then was nigh;
+Tom lies the garland, the fair blossoms strew'd.
+Nay, seize me not with hand so rude!
+Spare me! What harm have I e'er done to thee?
+Oh let me not in vain implore!
+I ne'er have seen thee in my life before!
+
+FAUST
+
+Can I endure this bitter agony?
+
+MARGARET
+
+I now am at thy mercy quite.
+Let me my babe but suckle once again!
+I fondled it the live-long night;
+They took it from me but to give me pain,
+And now, they say that I my child have slain.
+Gladness I ne'er again shall know.
+Then they sing songs about me,--'tis wicked of the throng--
+An ancient ballad endeth so;
+Who bade them thus apply the song?
+
+FAUST (_throwing himself on the ground_)
+
+A lover at thy feet bends low,
+To loose the bonds of wretchedness and woe.
+
+MARGARET (_throws herself beside him_)
+
+Oh, let us kneel and move the saints by prayer!
+Look! look! yon stairs below,
+Under the threshold there,
+Hell's flames are all aglow!
+Beneath the floor,
+With hideous noise,
+The devils roar!
+
+FAUST (_aloud_)
+
+Gretchen! Gretchen!
+
+MARGARET (_listening_)
+
+That was my lov'd one's voice!
+
+[_She springs up, the chains fall off_.]
+
+Where is he? I heard him calling me.
+Free am I! There's none shall hinder me.
+To his neck will I fly,
+On his bosom will lie!
+Gretchen, he called!--On yon threshold he stood;
+Amidst all the howling of hell's fiery flood,
+The scoff and the scorn of its devilish crew,
+The tones of his voice, sweet and loving, I knew.
+
+FAUST
+
+'Tis I!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ 'Tis thou! O say so once again!
+                                    [_embracing him_.]
+'Tis he! 'Tis he! where's now the torturing pain?
+Where are the fetters? where the dungeon's gloom?
+'Tis thou! To save me thou art come!
+And I am sav'd!--
+Already now the street I see
+Where the first time I caught a glimpse of thee.
+There to the pleasant garden shade,
+Where I and Martha for thy coming stay'd.
+
+FAUST (_endeavoring to lead her away_)
+
+Come! come away!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Oh do not haste!
+I love to linger where thou stayest. [_caressing him_.]
+
+FAUST
+
+Ah haste! For if thou still delayest,
+Our lingering we shall both deplore.
+
+MARGARET
+
+How, dearest? canst thou kiss no more!
+So short a time away from me, and yet,
+To kiss thou couldst so soon forget!
+Why on thy neck so anxious do I feel--
+When formerly a perfect heaven of bliss
+From thy dear looks and words would o'er me steal?
+As thou wouldst stifle me thou then didst kiss!--
+Kiss me!
+Or I'll kiss thee!    [_She embraces him._]
+Woe! woe! Thy lips are cold,--
+Are dumb!
+Thy love where hast thou left?
+Who hath me of thy love bereft?
+
+[_She turns away from him._]
+
+FAUST
+
+Come! Follow me, my dearest love, be bold!
+I'll cherish thee with ardor thousand-fold;
+I but entreat thee now to follow me!
+
+MARGARET (_turning toward him_)
+
+And art thou he? and art thou really he?
+
+FAUST
+
+'Tis I! Oh come!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Thou wilt strike off my chain,
+And thou wilt take me to thine arms again.
+How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?--
+And dost thou know, love, whom thou wouldst set free?
+
+FAUST
+
+Come! come! already night begins to wane.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I sent my mother to her grave,
+I drown'd my child beneath the wave.
+Was it not given to thee and me--thee too?
+'Tis thou thyself! I scarce believe it yet.
+Give me thy hand! It is no dream! 'Tis true!
+Thine own dear hand!--But how is this? 'Tis wet!
+Quick, wipe it off! Meseems that yet
+There's blood thereon.
+Ah God! what hast thou done?
+Put up thy sword,
+I beg of thee!
+
+FAUST
+
+Oh, dearest, let the past forgotten be!
+Death is in every word.
+
+MARGARET
+
+No, thou must linger here in sorrow!
+The graves I will describe to thee,
+And thou to them must see
+Tomorrow:
+The best place give to my mother,
+Close at her side my brother,
+Me at some distance lay--
+But not too far away!
+And the little one place on my right breast.
+Nobody else will near me lie!
+To nestle beside thee so lovingly,
+That was a rapture, gracious and sweet!
+A rapture I never again shall prove;
+Methinks I would force myself on thee, love,
+And thou dost spurn me, and back retreat--
+Yet 'tis thyself, thy fond kind looks I see.
+
+FAUST
+
+If thou dost feel 'tis I, then come with me!
+
+MARGARET
+
+What, there? without?
+
+FAUST
+
+ Yes, forth in the free air.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Ay, if the grave's without,--If death lurk there!
+Hence to the everlasting resting-place,
+And not one step beyond!--Thou'rt leaving me?
+Oh Henry! would that I could go with thee!
+
+FAUST
+
+Thou canst! But will it! Open stands the door.
+
+MARGARET
+
+I dare not go! I've naught to hope for more.
+What boots it to escape? They lurk for me!
+'Tis wretched to beg, as I must do,
+And with an evil conscience thereto!
+'Tis wretched, in foreign lands to stray;
+And me they will catch, do what I may!
+
+FAUST
+
+With thee will I abide.
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Quick! Quick!
+ Save thy poor child!
+ Keep to the path
+ The brook along,
+ Over the bridge
+ To the wood beyond,
+ To the left, where the plank is,
+ In the pond.
+ Seize it at once!
+ It fain would rise,
+ It struggles still!
+ Save it. Oh save!
+
+FAUST
+
+Dear Gretchen, more collected be!
+One little step, and thou art free!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Were we but only past the hill
+There sits my mother upon a stone--
+My brain, alas, is cold with dread!--
+There sits my mother upon a stone,
+And to and fro she shakes her head;
+She winks not, she nods not, her head it droops sore;
+She slept so long, she waked no more;
+She slept, that we might taste of bliss:
+Ah I those were happy times, I wis!
+
+FAUST
+
+Since here avails nor argument nor prayer,
+Thee hence by force I needs must bear.
+
+MARGARET
+
+Loose me! I will not suffer violence!
+With murderous hand hold not so fast!
+I have done all to please thee in the past!
+
+FAUST
+
+Day dawns! My love! My love!
+
+MARGARET
+
+ Yes! day draws near,
+The day of judgment too will soon appear!
+It should have been my bridal! No one tell,
+That thy poor Gretchen thou hast known too well.
+Woe to my garland!
+Its bloom is o'er!
+Though not at the dance--
+We shall meet once more.
+The crowd doth gather, in silence it rolls;
+The squares, the streets,
+Scarce hold the throng.
+The staff is broken,--the death-bell tolls,--
+They bind and seize me! I'm hurried along,
+To the seat of blood already I'm bound!
+Quivers each neck as the naked steel
+Quivers on mine the blow to deal--
+The silence of the grave now broods around!
+
+FAUST
+
+Would I had ne'er been born!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_appears without_)
+
+Up! or you're lost.
+Vain hesitation! Babbling, quaking!
+My steeds are shivering,
+Morn is breaking.
+
+MARGARET
+
+What from the floor ascendeth like a ghost?
+'Tis he! 'Tis he! Him from my presence chase!
+What would he in this holy place?
+It is for me he cometh!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Thou shalt live!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Judgment of God! To thee my soul I give!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+Come, come! With her I'll else abandon thee!
+
+MARGARET
+
+Father, I'm thine! Do thou deliver me!
+Ye angels! Ye angelic hosts! descend,
+Encamp around to guard me and defend!--
+Henry! I shudder now to look on thee!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+She now is judged!
+
+VOICES (_from above_)
+
+ Is saved!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+ Come thou with me!
+
+[_vanishes with_ FAUST.]
+
+
+VOICE (_from within, dying away_)
+
+Henry! Henry!
+
+
+
+END OF PART I.
+
+
+
+FAUST--SELECTIONS FROM PART II (1832)
+
+ACT THE FIRST
+
+A PLEASING LANDSCAPE
+
+
+FAUST, _reclining upon flowery turf, restless, seeking sleep_
+
+TWILIGHT
+
+_Circle of spirits, hovering, flit around;--Graceful, tiny forms_.
+
+ARIEL
+
+ _Song, accompanied by AEolian harps_
+ When, in vernal showers descending,
+ Blossoms gently veil the earth,
+ When the fields' green wealth, up-tending,
+ Gleams on all of mortal birth;
+ Tiny elves, where help availeth,
+ Large of heart, there fly apace;
+ Pity they whom grief assaileth,
+ Be he holy, be he base.
+
+Ye round this head on airy wing careering,
+Attend, in noble Elfin guise appearing;
+Assuage the cruel strife that rends his heart,
+The burning shaft remove of keen remorse,
+From rankling horror cleanse his inmost part:
+Four are the pauses of the nightly course;
+Them, without rest, fill up with kindly art.
+And first his head upon cool pillow lay,
+Then bathe ye him in dew from Lethe's stream;
+His limbs, cramp-stiffen'd, will more freely play,
+If sleep-refreshed he wait morn's wakening beam.
+
+Perform the noblest Elfin-rite,
+Restore ye him to the holy light!
+
+CHORUS (_singly, two or more, alternately and together_)
+
+ Softly when warm gales are stealing
+ O'er the green-environed ground,
+ Twilight sheddeth all-concealing
+ Mists and balmy odors round:
+ Whispers low sweet peace to mortals,
+ Rocks the heart to childlike rest,
+ And of day-light shuts the portals
+ To these eyes, with care oppressed.
+ Night hath now descended darkling,
+ Holy star is linked to star;
+ Sovereign fires, or faintly sparkling,
+ Glitter near and shine afar;
+ Glitter here lake-mirror'd, yonder
+ Shine adown the clear night sky;
+ Sealing bliss of perfect slumber,
+ Reigns the moon's full majesty.
+
+ Now the hours are cancelled; sorrow,
+ Happiness, have passed away:
+ Whole thou shalt be on the morrow!
+ Feel it! Trust the new-born day!
+ Swell the hills, green grow the valleys,
+ In the dusk ere breaks the morn;
+ And in silvery wavelets dallies,
+ With the wind, the ripening corn.
+
+ Cherish hope, let naught appall thee!
+ Mark the East, with splendor dyed!
+ Slight the fetters that enthrall thee;
+ Fling the shell of sleep aside!
+ Gird thee for the high endeavor;
+ Shun the crowd's ignoble ease!
+ Fails the noble spirit never,
+ Wise to think, and prompt to seize.
+
+[_A tremendous tumult announces the uprising of the Sun._]
+
+ARIEL
+
+ Hark, the horal tempest nears,
+ Sounding but for spirit ears,
+ Lo! the new-born day appears;
+ Clang the rocky portals, climb
+ Phoebus' wheels with thund'rous chime:
+ Breaks with tuneful noise the light!
+ Blare of trumpet, clarion sounding,
+ Eye-sight dazing, ear astounding!
+ Hear not the unheard; take flight!
+ Into petaled blossoms glide
+ Deeper, deeper, still to bide,
+ In the clefts, 'neath thickets! ye,
+ If it strike you, deaf will be.
+
+FAUST
+
+ Life's pulses reawakened freshly bound,
+ The mild ethereal twilight fain to greet.
+ Thou, Earth, this night wast also constant found,
+ And, newly-quickened, breathing at my feet,
+ Beginnest now to gird me with delight;
+ A strong resolve dost rouse, with noble heat
+ Aye to press on to being's sovereign height.
+ The world in glimmering dawn still folded lies;
+ With thousand-voiced life the woods resound;
+ Mist-wreaths the valley shroud; yet from the skies
+ Sinks heaven's clear radiance to the depths profound;
+ And bough and branch from dewy chasms rise,
+ Where they had drooped erewhile in slumber furled;
+ Earth is enamelled with unnumber'd dyes,
+ Leaflet and flower with dew-drops are impearled;
+ Around me everywhere is paradise.
+
+Gaze now aloft! Each mountain's giant height
+The solemn hour announces, herald-wise;
+They early may enjoy the eternal light,
+To us below which later finds its way.
+Now are the Alpine slopes and valleys dight
+With the clear radiance of the new-born day,
+Which, downward, step by step, steals on
+apace.--It blazes forth,--and, blinded by the ray,
+With aching eyes, alas! I veil my face.
+So when a hope, the heart hath long held fast,
+Trustful, still striving toward its highest goal,
+Fulfilment's portals open finds at
+last;--Sudden from those eternal depths doth roll
+An over-powering flame;--we stand aghast!
+The torch of life to kindle we were
+fain;--A fire-sea,--what a fire!--doth round us close;
+Love is it? Is it hate? with joy and pain,
+In alternation vast, that round us glows?
+So that to earth we turn our wistful gaze,
+In childhood's veil to shroud us once again!
+
+So let the sun behind me pour its rays!
+The cataract, through rocky cleft that roars,
+I view, with growing rapture and amaze.
+From fall to fall, with eddying shock, it pours,
+In thousand torrents to the depths below,
+Aloft in air up-tossing showers of spray.
+But see, in splendor bursting from the storm,
+Arches itself the many-colored bow,
+And ever-changeful, yet continuous form,
+Now drawn distinctly, melting now away,
+Diffusing dewy coolness all around!
+Man's efforts there are glassed, his toil and strife;
+Reflect, more true the emblem will be found:
+This bright reflected glory pictures life!
+
+
+IMPERIAL PALACE. THRONE-ROOM
+
+_Council of State, in expectation of the_ EMPEROR
+
+TRUMPETS
+
+_Enter courtiers of every grade, splendidly attired. The
+Emperor ascends the throne; to the right the_ ASTROLOGER.
+
+
+EMPEROR
+
+ I greet you, trusty friends and dear,
+ Assembled thus from far and wide!--
+I see the wise man at my side,
+ But wherefore is the fool not here?
+
+PAGE
+
+ Entangled in thy mantle's flow.
+ He tripped upon the stair below;
+ The mass of fat they bare away,
+ If dead or drunken--who can say?
+
+SECOND PAGE
+
+ Forthwith another comes apace,
+ With wondrous speed to take his place;
+ Costly, yet so grotesque his gear,
+ All start amazed as he draws near.
+ Crosswise the guards before his face,
+ Entrance to bar, their halberds hold--
+ Yet there he is, the fool so bold.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_kneeling before the throne_)
+
+ What is accursed and gladly hailed?
+ What is desired and chased away?
+ What is upbraided and assailed?
+ What wins protection every day?
+ Whom darest thou not summon here?
+ Whose name doth plaudits still command?
+ What to thy throne now draweth near?
+ What from this place itself hath banned?
+
+EMPEROR
+
+ For this time thou thy words may'st spare!
+ This is no place for riddles, friend;
+ They are these gentlemen's affair,--
+ Solve them! an ear I'll gladly lend.
+ My old fool's gone, far, far away, I fear;
+ Take thou his place, come, stand beside me here!
+
+[MEPHISTOPHELES _ascends and places himself at the_
+EMPEROR'S _left._]
+
+_Murmur of the Crowd_
+
+ Here's a new fool--for plague anew!
+ Whence cometh he?--How passed he through?
+ The old one fell--he squander'd hath.--
+ He was a tub--now 'tis a lath.--
+
+EMPEROR
+
+So now, my friends, beloved and leal,
+Be welcome all, from near and far!
+Ye meet 'neath an auspicious star;
+For us above are written joy and weal.
+But tell me wherefore, on this day,
+When we all care would cast away,
+And don the masker's quaint array,
+And naught desire but to enjoy,
+Should we with state affairs ourselves annoy?
+But if ye think it so must be indeed,
+Why, well and good, let us forthwith proceed!
+
+CHANCELLOR
+
+The highest virtue circles halo-wise
+Our Caesar's brow; virtue, which from the throne,
+He validly can exercise alone:
+Justice!--What all men love and prize,
+What all demand, desire, and sorely want,
+It lies with him, this to the folk to grant.
+But ah! what help can intellect command,
+Goodness of heart, or willingness of hand,
+When fever saps the state with deadly power,
+And mischief breedeth mischief, hour by hour?
+To him who downward from this height supreme
+Views the wide realm, 'tis like a troubled dream,
+Where the deformed deformity o'ersways,
+Where lawlessness, through law, the tyrant plays,
+And error's ample world itself displays.
+
+One steals a woman, one a steer,
+Lights from the altar, chalice, cross,
+Boasts of his deed full many a year,
+Unscathed in body, without harm or loss.
+Now to the hall accusers throng;
+On cushioned throne the judge presides;
+Surging meanwhile in eddying tides,
+Confusion waxes fierce and strong.
+
+He may exalt in crime and shame,
+Who on accomplices depends;
+Guilty! the verdict they proclaim,
+When Innocence her cause defends.
+So will the world succumb to ill,
+And what is worthy perish quite;
+How then may grow the sense which still
+Instructs us to discern the right?
+E'en the right-minded man, in time,
+To briber and to flatterer yields;
+The judge, who cannot punish crime,
+Joins with the culprit whom he shields.--
+I've painted black, yet fain had been
+A veil to draw before the scene.
+
+_Pause_
+
+Measures must needs be taken; when
+All injure or are injured, then
+E'en Majesty becomes a prey.
+
+FIELD MARSHAL
+
+In these wild days what tumults reign!
+Each smitten is and smites again,
+Deaf to command, will none obey.
+The burgher, safe behind his wall,
+Within his rocky nest, the knight,
+Against us have conspired, and all
+Firmly to hold their own unite.
+Impatient is the hireling now,
+With vehemence he claims his due;
+And did we owe him naught, I trow,
+Off he would run, nor bid adieu.
+Who thwarts what fondly all expect,
+He bath disturbed a hornet's nest;
+The empire which they should protect,
+It lieth plundered and oppress'd.
+Their furious rage may none restrain;
+Already half the world's undone;
+Abroad there still are kings who reign--
+None thinks 'tis his concern, not one.
+
+TREASURER
+
+Who will depend upon allies!
+For us their promised subsidies
+Like conduit-water, will not flow.
+Say, Sire, through your dominions vast
+To whom hath now possession passed!
+Some upstart, wheresoe'er we go,
+Keeps house, and independent reigns.
+We must look on, he holds his own;
+So many rights away we've thrown,
+That for ourselves no right remains.
+On so-called parties in the state
+There's no reliance, now-a-days;
+They may deal out or blame or praise,
+Indifferent are love and hate.
+The Ghibelline as well as Guelph
+Retire, that they may live at ease!
+Who helps his neighbor now? Himself
+Each hath enough to do to please.
+Barred are the golden gates; while each
+Scrapes, snatches, gathers all within his reach--
+Empty, meanwhile, our chest remains.
+
+STEWARD
+
+What worry must I, also, bear!
+Our aim each day is still to spare--
+And more each day we need; my pains,
+Daily renewed, are never o'er.
+The cooks lack nothing;--deer, wild-boar,
+Stags, hares, fowls, turkeys, ducks and geese,--
+Tribute in kind, sure payment, these
+Come fairly in, and none complains.
+But now at last wine fails; and if of yore
+Up-piled upon the cellar-floor,
+Cask rose on cask, a goodly store,
+From the best slopes and vintage; now
+The swilling of our lords, I trow,
+Unceasing, drains the very lees.
+E'en the Town-council must give out
+Its liquor;--bowls and cups they seize;
+And 'neath the table lies the drunken rout.
+Now must I pay, whate'er betides;
+Me the Jew spares not; he provides
+Anticipation-bonds which feed
+Each year on that which must succeed;
+The swine are never fattened now;
+Pawned is the pillow or the bed,
+And to the table comes fore-eaten bread.
+
+EMPEROR (_after some reflection, to_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+Say, fool, another grievance knowest thou?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I, nowise. On this circling pomp to gaze,
+On thee and thine! There can reliance fail
+Where majesty resistless sways,
+And ready power makes foemen quail?
+Where loyal will, through reason strong,
+And prowess, manifold, unite,
+What could together join for wrong,
+For darkness, where such stars give light?
+
+_Murmur of the Crowd_
+
+ He is a knave--he comprehends--
+ He lies--while lying serves his ends--
+Full well I know--what lurks behind--
+What next?--Some scheme is in the wind!--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Where is not something wanting here on earth?
+Here this,--there that: of gold is here the dearth.
+It cannot from the floor be scrap'd, 'tis true;
+But what lies deepest wisdom brings to view.
+In mountain-veins, walls underground,
+Is gold, both coined and uncoined, to be found.
+And if ye ask me,--bring it forth who can?
+Spirit-and nature-power of gifted man.
+
+CHANCELLOR
+
+Nature and spirit--christians ne'er should hear
+Such words, with peril fraught and fear.
+These words doom atheists to the fire.
+Nature is sin, spirit is devil; they,
+Between them, doubt beget, their progeny,
+Hermaphrodite, mis-shapen, dire.
+Not so with us! Within our Caesar's land
+Two orders have arisen, two alone,
+Who worthily support his ancient throne:
+Clergy and knights, who fearless stand,
+Bulwarks 'gainst every storm, and they
+Take church and state as their appropriate pay.
+Through lawless men, the vulgar herd
+To opposition have of late been stirred;
+The heretics these are, the wizards, who
+The city ruin and the country too.
+With thy bold jests, to this high sphere,
+Such miscreants wilt smuggle in;
+Hearts reprobate to you are dear;
+They to the fool are near of kin.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Herein your learned men I recognize!
+What you touch not, miles distant from you lies;
+What you grasp not, is naught in sooth to you;
+What you count not, cannot, you deem, be true;
+What you weigh not, that hath for you no weight;
+What you coin not, you're sure is counterfeit.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+Therewith our needs are not one whit the less.
+What meanest thou with this thy Lent-address?
+I'm tired of this eternal If and How.
+'Tis gold we lack; so good, procure it thou!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I'll furnish more, ay, more than all you ask.
+Though light it seems, not easy is the task.
+There lies the gold, but to procure it thence,
+That is the art: who knoweth to commence?
+Only consider, in those days of terror,
+When human floods swamped land and folk together,
+How every one, how great soe'er his fear,
+All that he treasured most, hid there or here;
+So was it 'neath the mighty Roman's sway,
+So on till yesterday, ay, till today:
+That all beneath the soil still buried lies--
+The soil is Caesar's, his shall be the prize.
+
+TREASURER
+
+Now for a fool he speaketh not amiss;
+Our Caesar's ancient right, in sooth, was this.
+
+CHANCELLOR
+
+Satan for you spreads golden snares; 'tis clear,
+Something not right or pious worketh here.
+
+STEWARD
+
+To us at court if welcome gifts he bring,
+A little wrong is no such serious thing.
+
+FIELD MARSHAL
+
+Shrewd is the fool, he bids what all desire;
+The soldier, whence it comes, will not inquire.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+You think yourselves, perchance, deceived by me;
+Ask the Astrologer! This man is he!
+Circle round circle, hour and house, he knows.--
+Then tell us, how the heavenly aspect shows.
+
+_Murmur of the Crowd_
+
+ Two rascals--each to other known--
+ Phantast and fool--so near the throne--
+ The old, old song,--now trite with age--
+ The fool still prompts--while speaks the sage.--
+
+ASTROLOGER (_speaks_, MEPHISTOPHELES _prompts_)
+
+The sun himself is purest gold; for pay
+And favor serves the herald, Mercury;
+Dame Venus hath bewitched you from above,
+Early and late, she looks on you with love;
+Chaste Luna's humor varies hour by hour;
+Mars, though he strike not, threats you with his power,
+And Jupiter is still the fairest star;
+Saturn is great, small to the eye and far;
+As metal him we slightly venerate,
+Little in worth, though ponderous in weight.
+Now when with Sol fair Luna doth unite.
+Silver with gold, cheerful the world and bright!
+Then easy 'tis to gain whate'er one seeks;
+Parks, gardens, palaces, and rosy cheeks;
+These things procures this highly learned man.
+He can accomplish what none other can.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+Double, methinks, his accents ring,
+And yet they no conviction bring.
+
+_Murmur_
+
+ Of what avail!--a worn-out tale--
+Calendery--and chemistry--
+I the false word--full oft have heard--
+And as of yore--we're hoax'd once more.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The grand discovery they misprize,
+As, in amaze, they stand around;
+One prates of gnomes and sorceries,
+Another of the sable hound.
+What matters it, though witlings rail,
+Though one his suit 'gainst witchcraft press,
+If his sole tingle none the less,
+If his sure footing also fail?
+Ye of all swaying Nature feel
+The secret working, never-ending,
+And, from her lowest depths up-tending,
+E'en now her living trace doth steal.
+If sudden cramps your limbs surprise,
+If all uncanny seem the spot--
+There dig and delve, but dally not!
+There lies the fiddler, there the treasure lies!
+
+_Murmur_
+
+  Like lead it lies my foot about--
+ Cramp'd is my arm--'tis only gout--
+ Twitchings I have in my great toe--
+ Down all my back strange pains I know--
+ Such indications make it clear
+ That sumless treasuries are here.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+To work--the time for flight is past.--
+Put to the test your frothy lies!
+These treasures bring before our eyes!
+Sceptre and sword aside I'll cast,
+And with these royal hands, indeed,
+If thou lie not, to work proceed.
+Thee, if thou lie, I'll send to hell!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Thither to find the way I know full well!--
+Yet can I not enough declare,
+What wealth unown'd lies waiting everywhere:
+The countryman, who ploughs the land,
+Gold-crocks upturneth with the mould;
+Nitre he seeks in lime-walls old,
+And findeth, in his meagre hand,
+Scared, yet rejoiced, rouleaus of gold.
+How many a vault upblown must be,
+Into what clefts, what shafts, must he
+Who doth of hidden treasure know,
+Descend, to reach the world below!
+In cellars vast, impervious made,
+Goblets of gold he sees displayed,
+Dishes and plates, row after row;
+There beakers, rich with rubies, stand;
+And would he use them, close at hand
+Well stored the ancient moisture lies;
+Yet--would ye him who knoweth, trust?--
+The staves long since have turned to dust,
+A tartar cask their place supplies!
+Not gold alone and jewels rare,
+Essence of noblest wines are there,
+In night and horror veiled. The wise,
+Unwearied here pursues his quest.
+To search by day, that were a jest;
+'Tis darkness that doth harbor mysteries.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+What can the dark avail? Look thou to that!
+If aught have worth, it cometh to the light.
+Who can detect the rogue at dead of night?
+Black are the cows, and gray is every cat.
+These pots of heavy gold, if they be there--
+Come, drive thy plough, upturn them with thy share!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Take spade and hoe thyself;--dig on--
+Great shalt thou be through peasant toil--
+A herd of golden calves anon
+Themselves shall tear from out the soil;
+Then straight, with rapture newly born,
+Thyself thou canst, thy sweet-heart wilt adorn.
+A sparkling gem, lustrous, of varied dye,
+Beauty exalts as well as majesty.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+To work, to work! How long wilt linger?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+                              Sire,
+Relax, I pray, such vehement desire!
+First let us see the motley, joyous show!
+A mind distraught conducts not to the goal.
+First must we calmness win through self-control,
+Through things above deserve what lies below.
+Who seeks for goodness, must himself be good;
+Who seeks for joy, must moderate his blood;
+Who wine desires, the luscious grape must press;
+Who craveth miracles, more faith possess.
+
+EMPEROR
+
+So be the interval in gladness spent!
+Ash-Wednesday cometh, to our heart's content.
+Meanwhile we'll solemnize, whate'er befall,
+More merrily the joyous Carnival.
+
+[_Trumpets. Exeunt._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+That merit and success are link'd together,
+This to your fools occurreth never;
+Could they appropriate the wise man's stone,
+That, not the wise man, they would prize alone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT THE SECOND
+
+HIGH-VAULTED, NARROW GOTHIC CHAMBER,
+FORMERLY FAUST'S, UNALTERED
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_stepping from behind a curtain. While
+he raises it and looks back_, FAUST _is seen, stretched
+upon an old-fashioned bed_)
+
+Lie there, ill-starred one! In love's chain,
+Full hard to loose, he captive lies!
+Not soon his senses will regain
+Whom Helena doth paralyze.
+
+(_Looking round_)
+
+Above, around, on every side
+I gaze, uninjured all remains:
+Dimmer, methinks, appear the color'd panes,
+The spiders' webs are multiplied,
+Yellow the paper, and the ink is dry;
+Yet in its place each thing I find;
+And here the very pen doth lie,
+Wherewith himself Faust to the Devil signed,
+Yea, quite dried up, and deeper in the bore,
+The drop of blood, I lured from him of yore--
+O'erjoyed to own such specimen unique
+Were he who objects rare is fain to seek--;
+Here on its hook hangs still the old fur cloak,
+Me it remindeth of that merry joke,
+When to the boy I precepts gave, for truth,
+Whereon, perchance, he's feeding now, as youth.
+The wish comes over me, with thee allied,
+Enveloped in thy worn and rugged folds,
+Once more to swell with the professor's pride!
+How quite infallible himself he holds;
+This feeling to obtain your savants know;
+The devil parted with it long ago.
+
+[_He shakes the fur cloak which he has taken down;
+crickets, moths, and chafers fly out._]
+
+CHORUS OF INSECTS
+
+ We welcome thy coming,
+ Our patron of yore!
+ We're dancing and humming,
+ And know thee once more.
+ Us singly, in silence,
+ Hast planted, and lo!
+ By thousands, oh Father,
+ We dance to and fro.
+ The rogue hides discreetly
+ The bosom within;
+ We looseskins fly rather
+ Forth from the fur skin.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+O'erjoyed I am my progeny to know!
+We're sure to reap in time, if we but sow.
+I shake the old fur-mantle as before,
+And here and there out flutters one or more.--
+Above, around, hasten, beloved elves,
+In hundred thousand nooks to hide yourselves!
+'Mid boxes there of by-gone time,
+Here in these age-embrowned scrolls,
+In broken potsherds, foul with grime,
+In yonder skulls' now eyeless holes!
+Amid such rotten, mouldering life,
+Must foolish whims for aye be rife.
+
+[_Slips into the fur mantle_.]
+
+Come shroud my shoulders as of yore!
+Today I'm principal once more;
+But useless 'tis, to bear the name:
+Where are the folk to recognize my claim?
+
+[_He pulls the bell, which emits a shrill penetrating
+sound, at which the halls shake and the doors
+spring open._]
+
+FAMULUS (_tottering up the long dark passage_)
+
+ What a clamor! What a quaking!
+ Stairs are rocking, walls are shaking:
+ Through the windows' quivering sheen,
+ Are the stormful lightnings seen;
+ Springs the ceiling,--thence, below,
+ Lime and mortar rattling flow:
+ And, though bolted fast, the door
+ Is undone by magic power!
+ There, in Faust's old fleece bedight,
+ Stands a giant,--dreadful sight!
+ At his glance, his beck, at me!
+ I could sink upon my knee.
+ Shall I fly, or shall I stay?
+ What will be my fate today?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Come hither, friend!--Your name is Nicodemus?
+
+FAMULUS
+
+Most honor'd Sir, such is my name.--Oremus!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+That we'll omit!
+
+FAMULUS
+
+           O joy, me you do not forget.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I know it well: old, and a student yet;
+My mossy friend, even a learned man
+Still studies on, because naught else he can:
+Thus a card-house each builds of medium height;
+The greatest spirit fails to build it quite.
+Your master, though, that title well may claim--
+The noble Doctor Wagner, known to fame,
+First in the learned world! 'Tis he, they say,
+Who holds that world together; every day
+Of wisdom he augments the store!
+Who crave omniscience, evermore
+In crowds upon his teaching wait;
+He from the rostrum shines alone;
+The keys doth like Saint Peter own,
+And doth of Hell and Heaven ope the gate;
+As before all he glows and sparkles,
+No fame, no glory but grows dim,
+Even the name of Faustus darkles!
+Inventor there is none like him.
+
+FAMULUS
+
+Pardon, most honor'd Sir, excuse me, pray--
+If I presume your utterance to gainsay--
+This bears not on the question any way;
+A modest mind is his allotted share.
+The disappearance, unexplained as yet,
+Of the great man, his mind doth sorely fret;
+Comfort from his return and health are still his prayer.
+The chamber, as in Doctor Faustus' day,
+Maintains, untouched, its former state,
+And for its ancient lord doth wait.
+Venture therein I scarcely may.
+What now the aspect of the stars?--
+Awe-struck the very walls appear;
+The door-posts quivered, sprang the bars--
+Else you yourself could not have entered here.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Where then bestowed himself hath he?
+Lead me to him! bring him to me!
+
+FAMULUS
+
+Alas! Too strict his prohibition,
+Scarce dare I, without his permission.
+Months, on his mighty work intent,
+Hath he, in strict seclusion spent.
+Most dainty 'mong your men of books,
+Like charcoal-burner now he looks,
+With face begrimed from ear to nose;
+His eyes are blear'd while fire he blows;
+Thus for the crisis still he longs;
+His music is the clang of tongs.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Admittance unto me deny?
+To hasten his success, the man am I.
+
+[_Exit_ FAMULUS. MEPHISTOPHELES _seats himself with a solemn air._]
+
+Scarce have I ta'en my post, when lo!
+Stirs from behind a guest, whom well I know;
+Of the most recent school, this time, is he,
+And quite unbounded will his daring be.
+
+BACCALAUREUS (_storming along the passage_)
+
+ Open find I door and gate!
+ Hope at last springs up elate,
+ That the living shall no more
+ Corpse-like rot, as heretofore,
+ And, while breathing living breath,
+ Waste and moulder as in death.
+
+ Here partition, screen, and wall
+ Are sinking, bowing to their fall,
+ And, unless we soon retreat,
+ Wreck and ruin us will greet.
+ Me, though bold, nor soon afraid,
+ To advance shall none persuade.
+ What shall I experience next?
+ Years ago, when sore perplexed,
+ Came I not a freshman here,
+ Full of anxious doubt and fear,
+ On these gray-beards then relied,
+ By their talk was edified?
+
+ What from musty tomes they drew,
+ They lied to me; the things they knew
+ Believed they not; with falsehood rife,
+ Themselves and me they robbed of life.
+ How?--Yonder is the murky glare,
+ There's one still sitting in the Chair--
+
+ Drawing near I wonder more--
+ Just as him I left of yore,
+ There he sits, in furry gown,
+ Wrapped in shaggy fleece, the brown!
+ Then he clever seemed, indeed,
+ Him as yet I could not read;
+ Naught will it avail today;
+ So have at him, straight-away!
+
+If Lethe's murky flood not yet hath passed,
+Old Sir, through your bald pate, that sideways bends,
+The scholar recognize, who hither wends,
+Outgrown your academic rods at last.
+The same I find you, as of yore;
+But I am now the same no more.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Glad am I that I've rung you here.
+ I prized you then not slightingly;
+ In grub and chrysalis appear
+ The future brilliant butterfly.
+ A childish pleasure then you drew
+ From collar, lace, and curls.--A queue
+ You probably have never worn?--
+ Now to a crop I see you shorn.
+ All resolute and bold your air--
+ But from the _absolute_ forbear!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+ We're in the ancient place, mine ancient Sir,
+ But think upon time's onward flow,
+ And words of double-meaning spare!
+ Quite otherwise we hearken now.
+ You fooled the simple, honest youth;
+ It cost but little art in sooth,
+ To do what none today will dare.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+If to the young the naked truth one speaks,
+It pleases in no wise the yellow beaks;
+But afterward, when in their turn
+On their own skin the painful truth they learn,
+They think, forsooth, from their own head it came;
+"The master was a fool," they straight proclaim.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+A rogue perchance!--For where's the teacher found
+Who to our face, direct, will Truth expound?
+Children to edify, each knows the way,
+To add or to subtract, now grave, now gay.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+For learning there's in very truth a time;
+For teaching, I perceive, you now are prime.
+While a few suns and many moons have waned,
+A rich experience you have doubtless gained!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+Experience! Froth and scum alone,
+Not with the mind of equal birth!
+Confess! what men have always known,
+As knowledge now is nothing worth.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_after a pause_)
+
+I long have thought myself a fool;
+Now shallow to myself I seem, and dull.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+That pleases me! Like reason that doth sound;
+The first old man of sense I yet have found!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+I sought for hidden treasures, genuine gold--
+And naught but hideous ashes forth I bore!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+Confess that pate of yours, though bare and old,
+Than yonder hollow skull is worth no more!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_good-naturedly_)
+
+Thou know'st not, friend, how rude is thy reply.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+In German to be courteous is to lie.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_still moving his wheel-chair ever nearer
+to the proscenium, to the pit_)
+
+Up here I am bereft of light and air;
+I perhaps shall find a refuge with you there?
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+When at their worst, that men would something be,
+When they are naught, presumptuous seems to me.
+Man's life is in the blood, and where, in sooth,
+Pulses the blood so strongly as in youth?
+That's living blood, which with fresh vigor rife,
+The newer life createth out of life.
+There all is movement, something there is done;
+Falleth the weak, the able presses on!
+While half the world we 'neath our sway have brought,
+What have ye done? Slept, nodded, dream'd, and thought,
+Plan after plan rejected;--nothing won.
+Age is, in sooth, a fever cold,
+With frost of whims and peevish need:
+When more than thirty years are told,
+As good as dead one is indeed:
+You it were best, methinks, betimes to slay.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+The devil here has nothing more to say.
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+Save through my will, no devil dares to be.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+The devil now prepares a fall for thee!
+
+BACCALAUREUS
+
+The noblest mission this of youth's estate.
+The world was not, till it I did create;
+The radiant Sun I led from out the sea;
+Her changeful course the Moon began with me;
+The Day arrayed herself my steps to meet,
+The Earth grew green, and blossom'd me to greet:
+At my command, upon yon primal Night,
+The starry hosts unveiled their glorious light.
+Who, beside me, the galling chains unbound,
+Which cramping thought had cast your spirits round?
+But I am free, as speaks my spirit-voice,
+My inward light I follow, and rejoice;
+Swift I advance, enraptur'd, void of fear,
+Brightness before me, darkness in the rear. [_Exit._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Go, in thy pride, Original, thy way!--
+True insight would, in truth, thy spirit grieve!
+What wise or stupid thoughts can man conceive,
+Unponder'd in the ages passed away?--
+Yet we for him need no misgiving have;
+Changed will he be, when a few years are past;
+Howe'er absurdly may the must behave,
+Nathless it yields a wine at last.--
+
+(_To the younger part of the audience, who do not applaud._)
+
+Though to my words you're somewhat cold,
+Good children, me you don't offend;
+Reflect! The devil, he is old;
+Grow old then, him to comprehend!
+
+LABORATORY
+
+(_After the fashion of the middle ages; cumbrous, useless
+apparatus, for fantastic purposes_)
+
+WAGNER (_at the furnace_)
+
+ Soundeth the bell, the fearful clang
+ Thrills through these sooty walls; no more
+ Upon fulfilment waits the pang
+ Of hope or fear;--suspense is o'er;
+ The darknesses begin to clear,
+ Within the inmost phial glows
+ Radiance, like living coal, that throws,
+ As from a splendid carbuncle, its rays;
+ Athwart the gloom its lightning plays.
+ A pure white lustre doth appear;
+ O may I never lose it more!--
+ My God! what rattles at the door?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_entering_)
+
+ Welcome! As friend I enter here.
+
+WAGNER
+
+ Hail to the star that rules the hour!
+
+(_Softly_)
+
+On breath and utterance let a ban be laid!
+Soon will be consummate a work of power.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_in a whisper_)
+
+What is it, then?
+
+WAGNER
+ A man is being made.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+A man? and pray what loving pair
+Have in your smoke-hole their abode?
+
+WAGNER
+
+Nay! Heaven forbid! As nonsense we declare
+The ancient procreative mode;
+The tender point, life's spring, the gentle strength
+That took and gave, that from within hath pressed,
+And seized, intent itself to manifest,
+The nearest first, the more remote at length,--
+This from its dignity is now dethron'd!
+The brute indeed may take delight therein,
+But man, by whom such mighty gifts are own'd,
+Must have a purer, higher origin.
+
+(_He turns to the furnace_)
+
+It flashes, see!--Now may we trustful hold,
+That if, of substances a hundred-fold,
+Through mixture,--for on mixture it depends--
+The human substance duly we compose,
+And then in a retort enclose,
+And cohobate; in still repose
+The work is perfected, our labor ends.
+
+(_Again turning to the furnace_)
+
+It forms! More clear the substance shows!
+Stronger, more strong, conviction grows!
+What Nature's mystery we once did style,
+That now to test, our reason tries,
+And what she organized erewhile,
+We now are fain to crystallize.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Who lives, doth much experience glean;
+By naught in this world will he be surprised;
+Already in my travel-years I've seen
+Full many a race of mortals crystallized.
+
+WAGNER (_still gazing intently on the phial_)
+
+It mounts, it glows, and doth together run,
+One moment, and the work is done!
+As mad, a grand design at first is view'd;
+But we henceforth may laugh at fate,
+And so a brain, with thinking-power embued,
+Henceforth your living thinker will create.
+
+(_Surveying the phial with rapture_)
+
+The glass resounds, with gracious power possessed;
+It dims, grows clear; living it needs must be!
+And now in form of beauty dressed,
+A dainty mannikin I see.
+What more can we desire, what more mankind?
+Unveiled is now what hidden was of late;
+Give ear unto this sound, and you will find,
+A voice it will become, articulate.--
+
+HOMUNCULUS (_in the phial, to_ WAGNER)
+
+Now, Fatherkin, how goes it? 'Twas no jest!
+Come, let me to thy heart be fondly pressed--
+Lest the glass break, less tight be thine embrace
+This is the property of things: the All
+Scarcely suffices for the natural;
+The artificial needs a bounded space.
+
+(_To_ MEPHISTOPHELES)
+
+But thou, Sir Cousin, Rogue, art thou too here?
+At the right moment! Thee I thank. 'Tis clear
+To us a happy fortune leadeth thee;
+While I exist, still must I active be,
+And to the work forthwith myself would gird;
+Thou'rt skill'd the way to shorten.
+
+WAGNER
+
+                       Just one word!
+I oft have been ashamed that knowledge failed,
+When old and young with problems me assailed.
+For instance: no one yet could comprehend,
+How soul and body so completely blend,
+Together hold, as ne'er to part, while they
+Torment each other through the live-long day.
+So then--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+            Forbear! The problem solve for me,
+Why man and wife so wretchedly agree?
+Upon this point, my friend, thou'lt ne'er be clear;
+The mannikin wants work, he'll find it here.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+What's to be done?
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_pointing to a side door_)
+
+               Yonder thy gifts display!
+
+WAGNER (_still gazing into the phial_)
+
+A very lovely boy, I needs must say!
+
+(_The side door opens_; FAUST _is seen stretched upon a
+couch_)
+
+HOMUNCULUS (_amazed_)
+
+Momentous!
+
+(_The phial slips from_ WAGNER's _hands, hovers over_
+FAUST, _and sheds a light upon him_)
+
+        Girt with beauty!--Water clear
+In the thick grove; fair women, who undress;
+Most lovely creatures!--grows their loveliness:
+But o'er the rest one shines without a peer,
+As if from heroes, nay from gods she came;
+In the transparent sheen her foot she laves;
+The tender life-fire of her noble frame
+She cools in yielding crystal of the waves.--
+Of swiftly moving wings what sudden noise?
+What plash, what plunge the liquid glass destroys?
+The maidens fly, alarmed; alone, the queen,
+With calm composure gazes on the scene;
+With womanly and proud delight, she sees
+The prince of swans press fondly to her knees,
+Persistent, tame; familiar now he grows.--
+But suddenly up-floats a misty shroud,
+And with thick-woven veil doth over-cloud
+The loveliest of all lovely shows.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Why thou in sooth canst everything relate!
+Small as thou art, as phantast thou art great.
+I can see nothing--
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ I believe it. Thou,
+Bred in the north, in the dark ages, how,
+In whirl of priesthood and knight-errantry,
+Have for such sights thy vision free!
+In darkness only thou'rt at home.
+
+(_Looking round_)
+
+Ye brown, repulsive blocks of stone,
+Arch-pointed, low, with mould o'ergrown!
+Should he awake, new care were bred,
+He on the spot would straight be dead.
+Wood-fountains, swans, fair nymphs undressed,
+Such was his dream, presageful, rare;
+In place like this how could he rest,
+Which I, of easy mood, scarce bear!
+Away with him!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ I like your plan, proceed!
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+Command the warrior to the fight,
+The maiden to the dancers lead!
+They're satisfied, and all is right.
+E'en now a thought occurs, most bright;
+'Tis classical
+Walpurgis-night--Most fortunate! It suits his bent,
+So bring him straightway to his element!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Of such I ne'er have heard, I frankly own.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+Upon your ear indeed how should it fall?
+Only romantic ghosts to you are known;
+Your genuine ghost is also classical.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+But whitherward to travel are we fain?
+Your antique colleagues are against my grain.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+North-westward, Satan, lies thy pleasure-ground;
+But, this time, we to the south-east are bound.--
+An ample vale Peneios floweth through,
+'Mid bush and tree its curving shores it laves;
+The plain extendeth to the mountain caves,
+Above it lies Pharsalus, old and new.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Alas! Forbear! For ever be eschewed
+Those wars of tyranny and servitude!
+I'm bored with them: for they, as soon as done,
+Straight recommence; and no one calls to mind
+That he in sooth is only played upon
+By Asmodeus, who still lurks behind.
+They battle, so 'tis said, for freedom's rights--
+More clearly seen, 'tis slave 'gainst slave who fights.
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+Leave we to men their nature, quarrel-prone!
+Each must defend himself, as best he can,
+From boyhood up; so he becomes a man.
+The question here is, how to cure this one?
+
+(_Pointing to_ FAUST)
+
+Hast thou a means, here let it tested be;
+Canst thou do naught, then leave the task to me.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Full many a Brocken-piece I might essay,
+But bolts of heathendom foreclose the way.
+The Grecian folk were ne'er worth much, 'tis true,
+Yet with the senses' play they dazzle you;
+To cheerful sins the human heart they lure,
+While ours are reckoned gloomy and obscure.
+And now what next?
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ Of old thou wert not shy;
+And if I name Thessalian witches,--why,
+I something shall have said,--of that I'm sure.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_lustfully_)
+
+Thessalian witches--well! the people they
+Concerning whom I often have inquired.
+Night after night, indeed, with them to stay,
+That were an ordeal not to be desired;
+But for a trial trip--
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ The mantle there
+Reach hither, wrap it round the knight!
+As heretofore, the rag will bear
+Both him and thee; the way I'll light.
+
+WAGNER (_alarmed_)
+
+And I?
+
+HOMUNCULUS
+
+ At home thou wilt remain,
+Thee most important work doth there detain;
+The ancient scrolls unfolding cull
+Life's elements, as taught by rule,
+And each with other then combine with care;
+Upon the _What_, more on the _How_, reflect!
+Meanwhile as through a piece of world I fare,
+I may the dot upon the "I" detect.
+Then will the mighty aim accomplish'd be;
+Such high reward deserves such striving;--wealth,
+Honor and glory, lengthen'd life, sound health,
+Knowledge withal and virtue--possibly.
+Farewell!
+
+WAGNER
+
+ Farewell! That grieves my heart full sore!
+I fear indeed I ne'er shall see thee more.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Now to Peneios forth we wend!
+ We must not slight our cousin's aid.
+
+ (_To the spectators_)
+
+ At last, in sooth, we all depend
+ On creatures we ourselves have made.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT THE THIRD
+
+BEFORE THE PALACE OF MENELAUS IN SPARTA
+
+_Enter_ HELENA, _with a chorus of captive Trojan women_
+PENTHALIS, _leader of the chorus_
+
+
+HELENA
+
+The much admired and much upbraided, Helena,
+From yonder strand I come, where erst we disembark'd,
+Still giddy from the roll of ocean's billowy surge,
+Which, through Poseidon's favor and through Euros' might,
+On lofty crested backs hither hath wafted us,
+From Phrygia's open field, to our ancestral bays.
+Yonder King Menelaus, glad of his return,
+With his brave men of war, rejoices on the beach.
+But oh, thou lofty mansion, bid me welcome home,
+Thou, near the steep decline, which Tyndareus, my sire,
+From Pallas' hill returning, here hath builded up;
+Which also was adorned beyond all Sparta's homes,
+What time with Clytemnestra, sister-like, I grew,
+With Castor, Pollux, too, playing in joyous sport.
+Wings of yon brazen portals, you I also hail!
+Through you, ye guest-inviting, hospitable gates,
+Hath Menelaus once, from many princes chosen,
+Shone radiant on my sight, in nuptial sort arrayed.
+Expand to me once more, that I the king's behest
+May faithfully discharge, as doth the spouse beseem.
+Let me within, and all henceforth behind remain,
+That, charged with doom, till now darkly hath round me stormed!
+For since, by care untroubled, I these sites forsook,
+Seeking Cythera's fane, as sacred wont enjoined,
+And by the spoiler there was seized, the Phrygian,
+Happened have many things, whereof men far and wide
+Are fain to tell, but which not fain to hear is he
+Of whom the tale, expanding, hath to fable grown.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Disparage not, oh glorious dame,
+ Honor'd possession of highest estate!
+ For sole unto thee is the greatest boon given;
+ The fame of beauty that all over-towers!
+ The hero's name before him resounds,
+ So strides he with pride;
+ Nathless at once the stubbornest yields
+ To beauty, the presence which all things subdues.
+
+HELENA
+
+Enough! I with my spouse, ship-borne, have hither sped,
+And to his city now by him before am sent.
+But what the thought he harbors, that I cannot guess.
+Come I as consort hither? Come I as a queen?
+Come I as victim for the prince's bitter pangs,
+And for the evils dire, long suffered by the Greeks?
+Conquered I am; but whether captive, know I not:
+For the Immortal Powers fortune and fame for me
+Have doomed ambiguous; direful ministers that wait
+On beauty's form, who even on this threshold here,
+With dark and threat'ning mien, stand bodeful at my side!
+Already, ere we left the hollow ship, my spouse
+Looked seldom on me, spake no comfortable word;
+As though he mischief brooded, facing me he sat.
+But now, when to Eurotas' deeply curving shores
+Steering our course, scarce had our foremost vessel's beak
+The land saluted, spake he, as by God inspired:
+"Here let my men of war, in ordered ranks, disbark;
+I marshal them, drawn up upon the ocean strand;
+But thou, pursue thy way, not swerving from the banks,
+Laden with fruit, that bound Eurotas' sacred stream,
+Thy coursers guiding o'er the moist enamelled meads,
+Until thou may'st arrive at that delightful plain,
+Where Lacedaemon, once a broad fruit-bearing field,
+By mountains stern surrounded lifteth now its walls.
+Set thou thy foot within the tower-crown'd princely house,
+Assemble thou the maids, whom I at parting left,
+And with them summon too the wise old stewardess.
+Bid her display to thee the treasures' ample store,
+As by thy sire bequeathed, and which, in peace and war,
+Increasing evermore, I have myself up-piled.
+All standing shalt thou find in ancient order; for,
+This is the prince's privilege, that to his home,
+When he returns at last, safe everything he finds,
+Each in its proper place, as he hath left it there.
+For nothing of himself the slave hath power to change."
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Oh gladden now, with glorious wealth,
+ Ever increasing, thine eye and heart!
+ For beautiful chains, the adornment of crowns,
+ Are priding themselves, in haughty repose;
+ But step thou in, and challenge them all,
+ They arm themselves straight;
+ I joy to see beauty contend for the prize,
+ With gold, and with pearls, and with jewels of price.
+
+HELENA
+
+Forthwith hath followed next this mandate of my lord:
+"Now when in order thou all things hast duly seen,
+As many tripods take, as needful thou may'st deem,
+And vessels manifold, which he at hand requires,
+Who duly would perform the sacrificial rite,
+The caldrons, and the bowls, and shallow altar-plates;
+Let purest water, too, from sacred fount be there,
+In lofty pitchers; further, store of season'd wood,
+Quick to accept the flame, hold thou in readiness;
+A knife, of sharpest edge, let it not fail at last.
+But I all other things to thy sole care resign."
+So spake he, urging me at once to part; but naught,
+Breathing the breath of life, the orderer appoints,
+That, to the Olympians' honor, he to slaughter doom'd:
+Suspicious seems it! yet, dismiss I further care;
+To the high Gods' decree be everything referred,
+Who evermore fulfil, what they in thought conceive;
+It may, in sooth, by men, as evil or as good
+Be counted, it by us, poor mortals, must be borne.
+Full oft the ponderous axe on high the priest hath raised,
+In consecration o'er the earth-bowed victim's neck.
+Nor could achieve the rite, for he was hindered,
+Or by approaching foe, or intervening God.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ What now will happen, canst thou not guess;
+ Enter, queen, enter thou in,
+ Strong of heart!
+ Evil cometh and good
+ Unexpected to mortals;
+ Though foretold, we credit it not.
+ Troya was burning, have we not seen
+ Death before us, terrible death!
+ And are we not here,
+ Bound to thee, serving with joy,
+ Seeing the dazzling sunshine of heaven,
+ And of earth too the fairest,
+ Kind one--thyself--happy are we!
+
+HELENA
+
+Come what come may! Whate'er impends, me it behoves
+To ascend, without delay, into the royal house,
+Long missed, oft yearned-for, well-nigh forfeited;
+Before mine eyes once more it stands, I know not how.
+My feet now bear me not so lightly as of yore,
+When up the lofty steps I, as a child, have sprung.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Fling now, O sisters, ye
+ Captives who mourn your lot,
+ All your sorrows far from you.
+ Share ye your mistress' joy!
+ Share ye Helena's joy,
+ Who to the dear paternal hearth,
+ Though returning full late in sooth,
+ Nathless with surer, firmer tread
+ Joyfully now approaches!
+ Praise ye the holy ones,
+ Happy restoring ones,
+ God's, the home-leaders, praise ye!
+ Soars the enfranchised one,
+ As upon out-spread wings,
+ Over the roughest fate, while in vain
+ Pines the captured one, yearning-fraught
+ Over the prison-battlements
+ Arms out-stretching, in anguish.
+
+ Nathless her a god hath seized,
+ The exiled one,
+ And from Ilion's wreck
+ Bare her hitherward back once more,
+ To the ancient, the newly-adorned
+ Father-house,
+ After unspeakable
+ Pleasure and anguish,
+ Earlier youthful time,
+ Newly quicken'd, to ponder.
+
+PENTHALIS (_as leader of the chorus_)
+
+Forsake ye now of song the joy-surrounded path,
+As toward the portal-wings turn ye forthwith your gaze!
+What see I, sisters? Here, returneth not the queen?
+With step of eager haste, comes she not back to us?--
+What is it, mighty queen, that in the palace-halls,
+Instead of friendly hail, could there encounter thee,
+And shatter thus thy being? Thou conceal'st it not;
+For I abhorrence see, impressed upon thy brow,
+And noble anger, that contendeth with surprise.
+
+HELENA (_who has left the folded doors open, excited_)
+
+No vulgar fear beseems the daughter of high Zeus,
+And her no lightly-fleeting terror-hand may touch;
+But that dire horror which, from womb of ancient Night,
+In time primeval rising, still in divers shapes,
+Like lurid clouds, from out the mountain's fiery gorge,
+Whirls itself forth, may shake even the hero's breast.
+Thus have the Stygian Gods, with horror fraught, today
+Mine entrance to the house so marked, that fain I am,
+Back from the oft-time trod, long-yearned-for threshold now,
+Like to a guest dismissed, departing, to retire.
+Yet no, retreated have I hither to the light;
+No further shall ye drive me, Powers, who'er ye be!
+Some expiation, I'll devise, then purified,
+The hearth-flame welcome may the consort as the lord.
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS
+
+Discover, noble queen, to us thy handmaidens,
+Devotedly who serve thee, what hath come to pass!
+
+HELENA
+
+What I have seen ye, too, with your own eyes, shall see,
+If ancient Night, within her wonder-teeming womb,
+Hath not forthwith engulfed, once more, her ghastly birth;
+But yet, that ye may know, with words I'll tell it you:--
+What time the royal mansion's gloomy inner court,
+Upon my task intent, with solemn step I trod,
+I wondered at the drear and silent corridors.
+Fell on mine ear no sound of busy servitors,
+No stir of rapid haste, officious, met my gaze;
+Before me there appeared no maid, no stewardess,
+Who every stranger erst, with friendly greeting, hailed.
+But when I neared at length the bosom of the hearth,
+There saw I, by the light of dimly smouldering fire,
+Crouched on the ground, a crone, close-veiled, of stature huge,
+Not like to one asleep, but as absorbed in thought!
+With accent of command I summon her to work,
+The stewardess in her surmising, who perchance
+My spouse, departing hence, with foresight there had placed;
+Yet, closely muted up, still sits she, motionless;
+At length, upon my threat, up-lifts she her right arm,
+As though from hearth and hall she motioned me away.
+Wrathful from her I turn, and forthwith hasten out,
+Toward the steps, whereon aloft the Thalamos
+Rises adorned, thereto the treasure-house hard by;
+When, on a sudden, starts the wonder from the floor;
+Barring with lordly mien my passage, she herself
+In haggard height displays, with hollow eyes, blood-grimed,
+An aspect weird and strange, confounding eye and thought.
+Yet speak I to the winds; for language all in vain
+Creatively essays to body forth such shapes.
+There see herself! The light she ventures to confront!
+Here are we master, till the lord and monarch comes;
+The ghastly brood of Night doth Phoebus, beauty's friend,
+Back to their caverns drive, or them he subjugates.
+
+[PHORKYAS _stepping on the threshold, between the door-posts._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Much have I lived through, although my tresses
+ Youthfully waver still round my temples;
+ Manifold horrors have mine eyes witnessed;
+ Warfare's dire anguish, Ilion's night,
+ When it fell;
+
+ Through the o'erclouded, dust over-shadow'd
+ Tumult of war, to gods have I hearken'd,
+ Fearfully shouting; hearken'd while discord's
+ Brazen voices clang through the field
+ Rampart-wards.
+
+ Ah, yet standing were Ilion's
+ Ramparts; nathless the glowing flames
+ Shot from neighbor to neighbor roof,
+ Ever spreading from here and there,
+ with their tempest's fiery blast,
+ Over the night-darkened city.--
+
+ Flying, saw I through smoke and glare,
+ And the flash of the tongued flames,
+ Dreadful, threatening gods draw near;
+ Wondrous figures, of giant mould,
+ Onward striding through the weird
+ Gloom of fire-luminous vapor.
+
+ Saw I them, or did my mind,
+ Anguish-torn, itself body forth
+ Phantoms so terrible--never more
+ Can I tell; but that I this
+ Horrible shape with eyes behold,
+ This of a surety know I!
+ Yea, with my hands could clutch it even,
+ Did not fear, from the perilous
+ Venture, ever withhold me.
+
+ Tell me, of Phorkyas'
+ Daughters which art thou?
+ For to that family
+ Thee must I liken.
+ Art thou, may be, one of the gray-born?
+ One eye only, and but one tooth
+ Using still alternately?
+ One of the Graiae art thou?
+ Darest thou, Horror,
+ Thus beside beauty,
+ Or to the searching glance
+ Phoebus' unveil thee?
+ Nathless step thou forward undaunted;
+ For the horrible sees he not,
+ As his hallowed glances yet
+ Never gazed upon shadows.
+
+ But a tragical fate, alas,
+ Us, poor mortals, constrains to bear
+ Anguish of vision, unspeakable,
+ Which the contemptible, ever-detestable,
+ Doth in lovers of beauty wake!
+
+ Yea, so hearken then, if thou dar'st
+ Us to encounter, hear our curse,
+ Hark to each imprecation's threat,
+ Out of the curse-breathing lips of the happy ones,
+ Who by the gods created are!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Trite is the word, yet high and true remains the sense:
+That Shame and Beauty ne'er together, hand in hand,
+Their onward way pursue, earth's verdant path along.
+Deep-rooted in these twain dwelleth an ancient grudge,
+So that, where'er they happen on their way to meet,
+Upon her hated rival turneth each her back;
+Then onward speeds her course with greater vehemence,
+Shame filled with sorrow, Beauty insolent of mood,
+Till her at length embraces Orcus' hollow night,
+Unless old age erewhile her haughtiness hath tamed.
+You find I now, ye wantons, from a foreign shore,
+With insolence o'erflowing, like the clamorous flight
+Of cranes, with shrilly scream that high above our heads,
+A long and moving cloud, croaking send down their noise,
+Which the lone pilgrim lures wending his silent way,
+Aloft to turn his gaze; yet on their course they fare,
+He also upon his: so will it be with us.
+
+Who are ye then, that thus around the monarch's house,
+With Maenad rage, ye dare like drunken ones to rave?
+Who are ye then that ye the house's stewardess
+Thus bay, like pack of hounds hoarsely that bay the moon?
+Think ye, 'tis hid from me, the race whereof ye are?
+Thou youthful, war-begotten, battle-nurtured brood,
+Lewd and lascivious thou, seducers and seduced,
+Unnerving both, the soldier's and the burgher's strength!
+Seeing your throng, to me a locust-swarm ye seem,
+Which, settling down, conceals the young green harvest-field.
+Wasters of others' toil! ye dainty revellers,
+Destroyers in its bloom of all prosperity!
+Thou conquer'd merchandise, exchanged and marketed!
+
+HELENA
+
+Who in the mistress' presence chides her handmaidens,
+Audacious, doth o'erstep her household privilege;
+For her alone beseems, the praise-worthy to praise,
+As also that to punish which doth merit blame.
+Moreover with the service am I well-content,
+Which these have rendered me, what time proud Ilion's strength
+Beleaguer'd stood, and fell and sank; nor less indeed
+When we, of our sea-voyage the dreary changeful woe
+Endured, where commonly each thinks but of himself.
+Here also I expect the like from this blithe train;
+Not what the servant is, we ask, but how he serves.
+Therefore be silent thou, and snarl at them no more!
+If thou the monarch's house till now hast guarded well,
+Filling the mistress' place, that for thy praise shall count;
+But now herself is come, therefore do thou retire,
+Lest chastisement be thine, instead of well-earn'd meed!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+The menial train to threat, a sacred right remains,
+Which the illustrious spouse of heaven-favor'd lord
+Through many a year doth earn of prudent governance.
+Since that, now recognized, thy ancient place as queen,
+And mistress of the house, once more thou dost resume,
+The long-time loosen'd reins grasp thou; be ruler here,
+And in possession take the treasures, us with them!
+Me before all protect, who am the elder-born,
+From this young brood, who seem, thy swan-like beauty near,
+But as a basely winged flock of cackling geese!
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS
+
+How hideous beside beauty showeth hideousness!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+How foolish by discretion's side shows foolishness!
+
+[_Henceforth the choristers respond in turn, stepping
+forth singly from the chorus._]
+
+FIRST CHORISTER
+
+Tell us of Father Erebus, tell us of Mother Night!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Speak thou of Scylla, speak of her, thy sister-born!
+
+SECOND CHORISTER
+
+From thy ancestral tree springs many a monster forth.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+To Orcus hence, away! Seek thou thy kindred there!
+
+THIRD CHORISTER
+
+Who yonder dwell, in sooth, for thee are far too young.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Tiresias, the hoary, go, make love to him!
+
+FOURTH CHORISTER
+
+Orion's nurse of old, was thy great-grand-daughter.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Harpies, so I suspect, did rear thee up in filth.
+
+FIFTH CHORISTER
+
+Thy cherished meagreness, whereon dost nourish that?
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+'Tis not with blood, for which so keenly thou dost thirst.
+
+SIXTH CHORISTER
+
+For corpses dost thou hunger, loathsome corpse thyself!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Within thy shameless jaw the teeth of vampires gleam.
+
+SEVENTH CHORISTER
+
+Thine I should stop were I to tell thee who thou art.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+First do thou name thyself; the riddle then is solved.
+
+HELENA
+
+Not wrathful, but in grief, step I between you now,
+Forbidding such alternate quarrel's angry noise;
+For to the ruler naught more hurtful can befall,
+Than, 'mong his trusty servants, sworn and secret strife;
+The echo of his mandate then to him no more
+In swift accomplished deed responsively returns;
+No, stormful and self-will'd, it rages him around,
+The self-bewilder'd one, and chiding still in vain.
+Nor this alone; ye have in rude unmanner'd wrath
+Unblessed images of dreadful shapes evoked,
+Which so encompass me, that whirl'd I feel myself
+To Orcus down, despite these my ancestral fields.
+Is it remembrance? Was it frenzy seized on me?
+Was I all that? and am I? shall I henceforth be
+The dread and phantom-shape of those town-wasting ones?
+The maidens quail: but thou, the eldest, thou dost stand,
+Calm and unmoved; speak, then, to me some word of sense!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Who of long years recalls the fortune manifold,
+To him heaven's highest favor seems at last a dream.
+But thou, so highly favored, past all bound or goal,
+Saw'st, in thy life-course, none but love-inflamed men,
+Kindled by impulse rash to boldest enterprise.
+Theseus by passion stirred full early seized on thee,
+A man of glorious form, and strong as Heracles.
+
+HELENA
+
+Forceful he bore me off, a ten-year slender roe,
+And in Aphidnus' keep shut me, in Attica.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+But thence full soon set free, by Castor, Pollux too,
+In marriage wast thou sought by chosen hero-band.
+
+HELENA
+
+Yet hath Patroclus, he, Pelides' other self,
+My secret favor won, as willingly I own.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+But thee thy father hath to Menelaus wed,
+Bold rover of the sea, and house-sustainer too.
+
+HELENA
+
+His daughter gave he, gave to him the kingdom's sway;
+And from our wedded union sprang Hermione.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+But while he strove afar, for Crete, his heritage,
+To thee, all lonely, came an all too beauteous guest.
+
+HELENA
+
+Wherefore the time recall of that half-widowhood,
+And what destruction dire to me therefrom hath grown!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+That voyage unto me, a free-born dame of Crete,
+Hath also capture brought, and weary servitude.
+
+HELENA
+
+As stewardess forthwith, he did appoint thee here,
+With much intrusted,--fort and treasure boldly won.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+All which thou didst forsake, by Ilion's tower-girt town
+Allured, and by the joys, the exhaustless joys of love.
+
+HELENA
+
+Remind me not of joys: No, an infinitude
+Of all too bitter woe o'erwhelm'd my heart and brain.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Nathless 'tis said thou didst in two-fold shape appear;
+Seen within Ilion's walls, and seen in Egypt too.
+
+HELENA
+
+Confuse thou not my brain, distraught and desolate!
+Here even, who I am in sooth I cannot tell.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+'Tis also said, from out the hollow shadow-dream,
+Achilles, passion-fired, hath joined himself to thee,
+Whom he hath loved of old, 'gainst all resolves of Fate.
+
+HELENA
+
+As phantom I myself, to him a phantom bound;
+A dream it was--thus e'en the very words declare.
+I faint, and to myself a phantom I become.
+          [She sinks into the arms of the semi-chorus._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Silence! Silence!
+ False seeing one, false speaking one, thou!
+ Through thy horrible, single-tooth'd lips,
+ Ghastly, what exhaleth
+ From such terrible loathsome gulf!
+ For the malignant one, kindliness feigning,
+ Rage of wolf 'neath the sheep's woolly fleece,
+ Far more terrible is unto me than
+ Jaws of the hound three-headed.
+ Anxiously watching stand we here:
+ When? How? Where of such malice
+ Bursteth the tempest
+ From this deep-lurking brood of Hell?
+ Now, 'stead of friendly words, freighted with comfort,
+ Lethe-bestowing, gracious and mild,
+ Thou art summoning from times departed,
+ Thoughts of the past most hateful,
+ Overshadowing not alone
+ All sheen gilding the present,
+ Also the future's
+ Mildly glimmering light of hope.
+
+ Silence! Silence!
+ That fair Helena's soul,
+ Ready e'en now to take flight,
+ Still may keep, yea firmly keep
+ The form of all forms, the loveliest,
+ Ever illumined of old by the sun.
+
+[HELENA _has revived, and again stands in the midst._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+(_The scene is entirely changed. Close arbors recline against a series
+of rocky caverns. A shady grove extends to the base of the encircling
+rocks_. FAUST _and_ HELENA _are not seen. The_ CHORUS _lies sleeping,
+scattered here and there_.)
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+How long these maids have slept, in sooth I cannot tell;
+Or whether they have dreamed what I before mine eyes
+Saw bright and clear, to me is equally unknown.
+So wake I them. Amazed the younger folks shall be,
+Ye too, ye bearded ones, who sit below and wait,
+Hoping to see at length these miracles resolved.
+Arise! Arise! And shake quickly your crisped locks!
+Shake slumber from your eyes! Blink not, and list to me!
+
+CHORUS
+
+Only speak, relate, and tell us, what of wonderful hath chanced!
+We more willingly shall hearken that which we cannot believe;
+For we are aweary, weary, gazing on these rocks around.
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Children, how, already weary, though you scarce have rubbed your eyes?
+Hearken then! Within these caverns, in these grottoes, in these bowers,
+Shield and shelter have been given, as to lover-twain idyllic,
+To our lord and to our lady--
+
+CHORUS
+                        How, within there?
+
+PHORKYAS
+                                        Yea, secluded
+From the world; and me, me only, they to secret service called.
+Highly honored stood I near them, yet, as one in trust beseemeth,
+Round I gazed on other objects, turning hither, turning thither,
+Sought for roots, for barks and mosses, with their properties acquainted;
+And they thus remained alone.
+
+CHORUS
+
+Thou would'st make believe that yonder, world-wide spaces lie within,
+Wood and meadow, lake and brooklet; what strange fable spinnest thou!
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+Yea, in sooth, ye inexperienced, there lie regions undiscovered:
+Hall on hall, and court on court; in my musings these I track.
+Suddenly a peal of laughter echoes through the cavern'd spaces;
+In I gaze, a boy is springing from the bosom of the woman
+To the man, from sire to mother: the caressing and the fondling,
+All love's foolish playfulnesses, mirthful cry and shout of rapture,
+Alternating, deafen me.
+Naked, without wings, a genius, like a faun, with nothing bestial,
+On the solid ground he springeth; but the ground, with counter-action,
+Up to ether sends him flying; with the second, third rebounding
+Touches he the vaulted roof.
+Anxiously the mother calleth: Spring amain, and at thy pleasure;
+But beware, think not of flying, unto thee is flight denied.
+And so warns the faithful father: In the earth the force elastic
+Lies, aloft that sends thee bounding; let thy toe but touch the surface,
+Like the son of earth, Antaeus, straightway is thy strength renewed.
+And so o'er these rocky masses, on from dizzy ledge to ledge,
+Leaps he ever, hither, thither, springing like a stricken ball.
+But in cleft of rugged cavern suddenly from sight he vanished;
+And now lost to us he seemeth, mother waileth, sire consoleth,
+Anxiously I shrug my shoulders. But again, behold, what vision!
+Lie there treasures hidden yonder? Raiment broidered o'er with flowers
+He becomingly hath donned;
+Tassels from his arms are waving, ribbons flutter on his bosom,
+In his hand the lyre all-golden, wholly like a tiny Phoebus,
+Boldly to the edge he steppeth, to the precipice; we wonder,
+And the parents, full of rapture, cast them on each other's heart;
+For around his brow what splendor! Who can tell what there is shining?
+Gold-work is it, or the flaming of surpassing spirit-power?
+Thus he moveth, with such gesture, e'en as boy himself announcing
+Future master of all beauty, through whose limbs, whose every member,
+Flow the melodies eternal: and so shall ye hearken to him,
+And so shall ye gaze upon him, to your special wonderment.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ This call'st thou marvelous,
+ Daughter of Creta?
+ Unto the bard's pregnant word
+ Hast thou perchance never listened?
+ Hast thou not heard of Ionia's,
+ Ne'er been instructed in Hellas'
+ Legends, from ages primeval,
+ Godlike, heroical treasure?
+ All, that still happeneth
+ Now in the present,
+ Sorrowful echo 'tis,
+ Of days ancestral, more noble;
+ Equals not in sooth thy story
+ That which beautiful fiction,
+ Than truth more worthy of credence,
+ Chanted hath of Maia's offspring!
+ This so shapely and potent, yet
+ Scarcely-born delicate nursling,
+ Straight have his gossiping nurses
+ Folded in purest swaddling fleece,
+ Fastened in costly swathings,
+ With their irrational notions.
+ Potent and shapely, ne'ertheless,
+ Draws the rogue his flexible limbs,
+ Body firm yet elastic,
+ Craftily forth; the purple shell,
+ Him so grievously binding,
+ Leaving quietly in its place;
+ As the perfected butterfly,
+ From the rigid chrysalid,
+ Pinion unfolding, rapidly glides,
+ Boldly and wantonly sailing through
+ Sun-impregnated ether.
+
+ So he, too, the most dextrous,
+ That to robbers and scoundrels,
+ Yea, and to all profit-seekers,
+ He a favoring god might be,
+ This he straightway made manifest,
+ Using arts the most cunning.
+ Swift from the ruler of ocean he
+ Steals the trident, yea, e'en from Ares
+ Steals the sword from the scabbard;
+ Arrow and bow from Phoebus too,
+ Also his tongs from Hephaestos
+ Even Zeus', the father's, bolt,
+ Him had fire not scared, he had ta'en.
+ Eros also worsted he,
+ In limb-grappling, wrestling match;
+ Stole from Cypria as she caressed him,
+ From her bosom, the girdle.
+
+(_An exquisite, purely melodious lyre-music resounds from
+the cave. All become attentive, and appear soon to be
+inwardly moved; henceforth, to the pause indicated,
+there is a full musical accompaniment._)
+
+PHORKYAS
+
+ Hark those notes so sweetly sounding;
+ Cast aside your fabled lore:
+ Gods, in olden time abounding,--
+ Let them go! their day is o'er.
+
+ None will comprehend your singing;
+ Nobler theme the age requires:
+ From the heart must flow, up-springing,
+ What to touch the heart aspires.
+              [_She retires behind the rock._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ To these tones, so sweetly flowing,
+ Dire one! dost incline thine ears,
+ They in us, new health bestowing,
+ Waken now the joy of tears.
+
+ Vanish may the sun's clear shining,
+ In our soul if day arise,
+ In our heart we, unrepining,
+ Find what the whole world denies.
+
+(HELENA, FAUST, EUPHORION _in the costume indicated above_)
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Songs of childhood hear ye ringing,
+ Your own mirth it seems; on me
+ Gazing, thus in measure springing,
+ Leap your parent-hearts with glee.
+
+HELENA
+
+ Love, terrestrial bliss to capture,
+ Two in noble union mates;
+ But to wake celestial rapture,
+ He a precious three creates.
+
+FAUST
+
+All hath been achieved. For ever
+I am thine, and mine thou art,
+Blent our beings are--oh never
+May our present joy depart!
+
+CHORUS
+
+Many a year of purest pleasure,
+In the mild light of their boy,
+Crowns this pair in richest measure.
+Me their union thrills with joy!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Now let me gambol,
+ Joyfully springing!
+ Upward to hasten
+ Through ether winging,
+ This wakes my yearning,
+ This prompts me now!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Gently! son, gently!
+ Be not so daring!
+ Lest ruin seize thee
+ Past all repairing,
+ And our own darling
+ Whelm us in woe!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ From earth my spirit
+ Still upward presses;
+ Let go my hands now,
+ Let go my tresses,
+ Let go my garments,
+ Mine every one!
+
+HELENA
+
+ To whom, bethink thee,
+ Now thou pertainest!
+ Think how it grieves us
+ When thou disdainest
+ Mine, thine, and his,--the all
+ That hath been won.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Soon shall, I fear me,
+ The bond be undone!
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+ Curb for thy parents' sake,
+ To us returning,
+ Curb thy importunate
+ Passionate yearning!
+ Make thou the rural plain
+ Tranquil and bright.
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ But to content you
+ Stay I my flight.
+
+(_Winding among the_ CHORUS _and drawing them forth to dance_)
+
+ Round this gay troop I flee
+ With impulse light.
+ Say is the melody,
+ Say is the movement right?
+
+HELENA
+
+ Yea, 'tis well done; advance,
+ Lead to the graceful dance
+ These maidens coy!
+
+FAUST
+
+ Could I the end but see!
+ Me this mad revelry
+ Fills with annoy.
+
+EUPHORION _and the_ CHORUS
+
+(_Dancing and singing, they move about in interweaving lines_)
+
+ Moving thine arms so fair
+ With graceful motion,
+ Tossing thy curling hair
+ In bright commotion;
+ When thou with foot so light
+ Over the earth doth skim,
+ Thither and back in flight,
+ Moving each graceful limb;
+ Thou hast attained thy goal,
+ Beautiful child,
+ All hearts thou hast beguiled,
+ Won every soul. [_Pause._]
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Gracefully sporting,
+ Light-footed roes,
+ New frolic courting
+ Scorn ye repose:
+ I am the hunter,
+ Ye are the game.
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Us wilt thou capture,
+ Urge not thy pace;
+ For it were rapture
+ Thee to embrace,
+ Beautiful creature,
+ This our sole aim!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Through trees and heather,
+ Bound all together,
+ O'er stock and stone!
+ Whate'er is lightly won,
+ That I disdain;
+ What I by force obtain,
+ Prize I alone.
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+What vagaries, sense confounding!
+Naught of measure to be hoped for!
+Like the blare of trumpet sounding,
+Over vale and forest ringing.
+What a riot! What a cry!
+
+CHORUS (_entering quickly one by one_)
+
+Us he passed with glance scorn-laden;
+Hastily still onward springing,
+Bearing now the wildest maiden
+Of our troop, he draweth nigh.
+
+EUPHORION (_bearing a young maiden_)
+
+I this wilful maid and coy
+Carry to enforced caress;
+For my pleasure, for my joy
+Her resisting bosom press,
+Kiss her rebel lips, that so
+She my power and will may know.
+
+MAIDEN
+
+Loose me! in this frame residing,
+Burns a spirit's strength and might;
+Strong as thine, our will presiding
+Swerveth not with purpose light.
+Thinkest, on thy strength relying,
+That thou hast me in a strait?
+Hold me, fool! thy strength defying,
+For my sport, I'll scorch thee yet!
+           [_She flames up and flashes into the air_.]
+
+Follow where light breezes wander,
+Follow to rude caverns yonder,
+Strive thy vanish'd prey to net!
+
+EUPHORION (_shaking off the last flames_)
+
+Rocks all around I see,
+Thickets and woods among!
+Why should they prison me?
+Still am I fresh and young.
+Tempests, they loudly roar,
+Billows, they lash the shore;
+Both far away I hear;
+Would I were near!
+       [_He springs higher up the rock._]
+
+HELENA, FAUST, _and_ CHORUS
+
+Wouldst thou chamois-like aspire?
+Us thy threaten'd fall dismays!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Higher must I climb, yet higher,
+Wider still must be my gaze.
+Know I now, where I stand:
+'Midst of the sea-girt land,
+'Midst of great Pelops' reign,
+Kin both to earth and main.
+
+CHORUS
+
+Canst not near copse and wold
+Tarry, then yonder,
+Ripe figs and apple-gold
+Seeking, we'll wander;
+Grapes too shall woo our hand,
+Grapes from the mantling vine.
+Ah, let this dearest land,
+Dear one, be thine!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ Dream ye of peaceful day?
+ Dream on, while dream ye may!
+ War! is the signal cry,
+ Hark! cries of victory!
+
+CHORUS
+
+ War who desireth
+ While peace doth reign,
+ To joy aspireth
+ Henceforth in vain.
+
+EUPHORION
+
+ All whom this land hath bred,
+ Through peril onward led,
+ Free, of undaunted mood,
+ Still lavish of their blood,
+ With soul untaught to yield,
+ Rending each chain!
+ To such the bloody field,
+ Brings glorious gain.
+
+CHORUS
+
+High he soars,--mark, upward gazing,--
+And to us not small doth seem:
+Victor-like, in harness blazing,
+As of steel and brass the gleam!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Not on moat or wall relying,
+On himself let each one rest!
+Firmest stronghold, all defying,
+Ever is man's iron breast!
+
+Dwell for aye unconquered would ye?
+Arm, by no vain dreams beguiled!
+Amazons your women should be,
+And a hero every child!
+
+CHORUS
+
+O hallowed Poesie,
+Heavenward still soareth she!
+Shine on, thou brightest star,
+Farther and still more far!
+Yet us she still doth cheer;
+Even her voice to hear,
+Joyful we are.
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Child no more; a stripling bearing
+Arms appears, with valor fraught
+Leagued with the strong, the free, the daring,
+In soul already who hath wrought.
+Hence away!
+No delay!
+There where glory may be sought.
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+Scarcely summoned to life's gladness,
+Scarcely given to day's bright gleam,
+Downward now to pain and sadness
+Wouldst thou rush, from heights supreme!
+Are then we
+Naught to thee?
+Is our gracious bond a dream?
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Hark! What thunders seaward rattle,
+Echoing from vale to vale!
+'Mid dust and foam, in shock of battle,
+Throng on throng, to grief and bale!
+And the command
+Is, firm to stand;
+Death to face, nor ever quail.
+
+HELENA, FAUST, _and_ CHORUS
+
+Oh what horror! Hast thou told it!
+Is then death for thee decreed?
+
+EUPHORION
+
+From afar shall I behold it?
+No! I'll share the care and need!
+
+HELENA, FAUST _and_ CHORUS
+
+Rashness to peril brings,
+And deadly fate!
+
+EUPHORION
+
+Yet--see a pair of wings
+Unfoldeth straight!
+Thither--I must, I must--
+Grudge not my flight!
+
+[_He casts himself into the air; his garments support him
+for a moment; his head flames, a trail of light follows him._]
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Icarus! Icarus!
+ Oh woeful sight!
+
+(_A beautiful youth falls at the parents' feet; we imagine
+that in the dead we recognize a well-known form; yet
+suddenly the corporeal part vanishes; the aureole rises
+like a comet to heaven; dress, mantle, and lyre remain
+lying on the ground._)
+
+HELENA _and_ FAUST
+
+Follows on joy new-born
+Anguishful moan!
+
+EUPHORION'S VOICE, (_from the depths_)
+
+Leave me in realms forlorn,
+Mother, not all alone! [_Pause._]
+
+CHORUS (_dirge_)
+
+Not alone--for hope we cherish,
+Where thou bidest thee to know!
+Ah, from daylight though thou perish,
+Ne'er a heart will let thee go!
+Scarce we venture to bewail thee,
+Envying we sing thy fate:
+Did sunshine cheer, or storm assail thee,
+Song and heart were fair and great.
+
+Earthly fortune was thy dower,
+Lofty lineage, ample might,
+Ah, too early lost, thy flower
+Withered by untimely blight!
+Glance was thine the world discerning,
+Sympathy with every wrong,
+Woman's love for thee still yearning,
+And thine own enchanting song.
+
+Yet the beaten path forsaking,
+Thou didst run into the snare;
+So with law and usage breaking,
+On thy wilful course didst fare;
+Yet at last high thought has given
+To thy noble courage weight,
+For the loftiest thou has striven--
+It to win was not thy fate.
+
+Who does win it? Unreplying,
+Destiny the question hears,
+When the bleeding people lying,
+Dumb with grief, no cry uprears!--
+Now new songs chant forth, in sorrow
+Deeply bowed lament no more;
+Them the earth brings forth tomorrow,
+As she brought them forth of yore!
+
+[_Full pause. The music ceases._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ACT THE FIFTH
+
+OPEN COUNTRY
+
+
+WANDERER
+
+Yes, 'tis they, their branches rearing,
+Hoary lindens, strong in age;--
+There I find them, reappearing,
+After my long pilgrimage!
+'Tis the very spot;--how gladly
+Yonder hut once more I see,
+By the billows raging madly,
+Cast ashore, which sheltered me!
+My old hosts, I fain would greet them,
+Helpful they, an honest pair;
+May I hope today to meet them?
+Even then they aged were.
+Worthy folk, in God believing!
+Shall I knock? or raise my voice?
+Hail to you if, guest receiving,
+In good deeds ye still rejoice!
+
+BAUCIS (_a very aged woman_)
+
+Stranger dear, beware of breaking
+My dear husband's sweet repose!
+Strength for brief and feeble waking
+Lengthened sleep on age bestows.
+
+WANDERER
+
+Mother, say then, do I find thee,
+To receive my thanks once more,
+In my youth who didst so kindly,
+With thy spouse, my life restore?
+Baucis, to my lips half-dying,
+Art thou, who refreshment gave?
+          [_The husband steps forth._]
+
+Thou Philemon, strength who plying,
+Snatched my treasure from the wave?
+By your flames, so promptly kindled,
+By your bell's clear silver sound--
+That adventure, horror-mingled,
+Hath a happy issue found.
+Forward let me step, and gazing
+Forth upon the boundless main,
+Kneel, and thankful prayers upraising,
+Ease of my full heart the strain!
+
+   [_He walks forward upon the downs._]
+
+PHILEMON (_to_ BAUCIS)
+
+Haste to spread the table, under
+The green leafage of our trees.
+Let him run, struck dumb with wonder,
+Scarce he'll credit what he sees.
+
+[_He follows the wanderer. Standing beside him._]
+
+Where the billows did maltreat you,
+Wave on wave in fury rolled,
+There a garden now doth greet you,
+Fair as Paradise of old.
+Grown more aged, as when stronger,
+I could render aid no more;
+And, as waned my strength, no longer
+Rolled the sea upon the shore;
+Prudent lords, bold serfs directing,
+It with trench and dyke restrained;
+Ocean's rights no more respecting,
+Lords they were, where he had reigned.
+See, green meadows far extending;--
+Garden, village, woodland, plain.
+But return we, homeward wending,
+For the sun begins to wane.
+In the distance sails are gliding,
+Nightly they to port repair;
+Bird-like, in their nests confiding,
+For a haven waits them there.
+Far away mine eye discerneth
+First the blue fringe of the main;
+Right and left, where'er it turneth,
+Spreads the thickly-peopled plain.
+
+
+IN THE GARDEN
+
+_The three at table_
+
+
+BAUCIS (_to the stranger_)
+
+Art thou dumb? No morsel raising
+To thy famished lips?
+
+PHILEMON
+
+ I trow,
+He of wonders so amazing
+Fain would hear; inform him thou.
+
+BAUCIS
+
+There was wrought a wonder truly,
+Yet no rest it leaves to me;
+Naught in the affair was duly
+Done, as honest things should be!
+
+PHILEMON
+
+Who as sinful can pronounce it?
+'Twas the emperor gave the shore;--
+Did the trumpet not announce it
+As the herald passed our door?
+Footing firm they first have planted
+Near these downs. Tents, huts, appeared;
+O'er the green, the eye, enchanted,
+Saw ere long a palace reared.
+
+BAUCIS
+
+Shovel, axe, no labor sparing,
+Vainly plied the men by day;
+Where the fires at night shone flaring,
+Stood a dam, in morning's ray.
+Still from human victims bleeding,
+Wailing sounds were nightly borne;
+Seaward sped the flames, receding;
+A canal appeared at morn!
+Godless is he, naught respecting;
+Covets he our grove, our cot;
+Though our neighbor, us subjecting,
+Him to serve will be our lot.
+
+PHILEMON
+
+Yet he bids, our claims adjusting,
+Homestead fair in his new land.
+
+BAUCIS
+
+Earth, from water saved, mistrusting,
+On thine own height take thy stand.
+
+PHILEMON
+
+Let us, to the chapel wending,
+Watch the sun's last rays subside;
+Let us ring, and prayerful bending,
+In our father's God confide!
+
+PALACE
+
+_Spacious ornamental garden; broad, straight canal._ FAUST
+_in extreme old age, walking about, meditating._
+
+LYNCEUS, THE WARDER (_through a speaking trumpet_)
+
+The sun sinks down, the ships belated
+Rejoicing to the haven steer.
+A stately galley, deeply freighted,
+On the canal, now draweth near;
+Her chequer'd flag the breeze caresses
+The masts unbending bear the sails:
+Thee now the grateful seaman blesses,
+Thee at this moment Fortune hails.
+               [_The bell rings on the downs._]
+
+FAUST (_starting_)
+
+Accursed bell! Its clamor sending,
+Like spiteful shot it wounds mine ear!
+Before me lies my realm unending;
+Vexation dogs me in the rear;
+For I, these envious chimes still hearing,
+Must at my narrow bounds repine;
+The linden grove, brown but thence peering,
+The moldering church, these are not mine.
+Refreshment seek I, there repairing?
+Another's shadow chills my heart,
+A thorn, nor foot nor vision sparing,--
+O far from hence could I depart!
+
+WARDER (_as above_)
+
+How, wafted by the evening gales,
+Blithely the painted galley sails;
+On its swift course, how richly stored!
+Chest, coffer, sack, are heaped aboard.
+_A splendid galley, richly and brilliantly laden with the
+produce of foreign climes._
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. THE THREE MIGHTY COMRADES
+
+CHORUS
+
+ Here do we land,
+ Here are we now.
+ Hail to our lord;
+ Our patron, thou!
+
+(_They disembark. The goods are brought ashore._)
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+So have we proved our worth--content
+If we our patron's praises earn:
+With but two ships abroad we went,
+With twenty we to port return.
+By our rich lading all may see
+The great successes we have wrought.
+Free ocean makes the spirit free:
+There claims compunction ne'er a thought!
+A rapid grip there needs alone;
+A fish, a ship, on both we seize.
+Of three if we the lordship own,
+Straightway we hook a fourth with ease,
+Then is the fifth in sorry plight--
+Who hath the power, has still the right;
+The _What_ is asked for, not the _How_.
+Else know I not the seaman's art:
+War, commerce, piracy, I trow,
+A trinity, we may not part.
+
+THE THREE MIGHTY COMRADES
+
+ No thank and hail;
+ No hail and thank!
+ As were our cargo
+ Vile and rank!
+ Disgust upon
+ His face one sees
+ The kingly wealth
+ Doth him displease!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ Expect ye now
+ No further pay;
+ For ye your share
+ Have ta'en away.
+
+THE THREE MIGHTY COMRADES
+
+ To pass the time,
+ As was but fair;
+ We all expect
+ An equal share.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+ First range in order,
+ Hall on hall,
+ These wares so costly,
+ One and all!
+ And when he steps
+ The prize to view,
+ And reckons all
+ With judgment true,
+ He'll be no niggard;
+ As is meet,
+ Feast after feast
+ He'll give the fleet,
+ The gay birds come with morning tide;
+ Myself for them can best provide.
+             [_The cargo is removed._]
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
+
+With gloomy look, with earnest brow
+Thy fortune high receivest thou.
+Thy lofty wisdom has been crowned;
+Their limits shore and sea have bound;
+Forth from the shore, in swift career,
+O'er the glad waves, thy vessels steer;
+Speak only from thy pride of place,
+Thine arm the whole world doth embrace.
+Here it began; on this spot stood
+The first rude cabin formed of wood;
+A little ditch was sunk of yore
+Where plashes now the busy oar.
+Thy lofty thought, thy people's hand,
+Have won the prize from sea and land.
+From here too--
+
+FAUST
+
+              That accursed here!
+It weighs upon me! Lend thine ear;--
+To thine experience I must tell,
+With thrust on thrust, what wounds my heart;
+To bear it is impossible--
+Nor can I, without shame, impart:
+The old folk there above must yield;
+Would that my seat those lindens were;
+Those few trees not mine own, that field,
+Possession of the world impair.
+There I, wide view o'er all to take,
+From bough to bough would scaffolds raise;
+Would, for the prospect, vistas make
+On all that I have done to gaze;
+To see at once before me brought
+The master-work of human thought,
+Where wisdom hath achieved the plan,
+And won broad dwelling-place for man.--
+Thus are we tortured;--in our weal,
+That which we lack, we sorely feel!
+The chime, the scent of linden-bloom,
+Surround me like a vaulted tomb.
+The will that nothing could withstand,
+Is broken here upon the sand:
+How from the vexing thought be safe?
+The bell is pealing, and I chafe!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Such spiteful chance, 'tis natural,
+Must thy existence fill with gall.
+Who doubts it! To each noble ear,
+This clanging odious must appear;
+This cursed ding-dong, booming loud,
+The cheerful evening-sky doth shroud,
+With each event of life it blends,
+From birth to burial it attends,
+Until this mortal life doth seem,
+Twixt ding and dong, a vanished dream!
+
+FAUST
+
+Resistance, stubborn selfishness,
+Can trouble lordliest success,
+Till, in deep angry pain one must
+Grow tired at last of being first!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Why let thyself be troubled here?
+Is colonizing not thy sphere?
+
+FAUST
+
+Then go, to move them be thy care!
+Thou knowest well the homestead fair,
+I've chosen for the aged pair--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+We'll bear them off, and on new ground
+Set them, ere one can look around.
+The violence outlived and past,
+Shall a fair home atone at last.
+              [_He whistles shrilly._]
+
+THE THREE _enter_
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+Come! straight fulfil the lord's behest;
+The fleet tomorrow he will feast.
+
+THE THREE
+
+The old lord us did ill requite;
+A sumptuous feast is ours by right.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_to the spectators_)
+
+What happ'd of old, here happens too:
+Still Naboth's vineyard meets the view.
+
+                      (I _Kings_, xvi.)
+
+
+DEEP NIGHT
+
+LYNCEUS THE WARDER (_on the watch-tower singing_)
+
+ Keen vision my birth-dower,
+ I'm placed on this height,
+ Still sworn to the watch-tower,
+ The world's my delight.
+ I gaze on the distant,
+ I look on the near,
+ On moon and on planet,
+ On wood and the deer:
+ The beauty eternal
+ In all things I see;
+ And pleased with myself
+ All bring pleasure to me.
+ Glad eyes, look around ye
+ And gaze, for whate'er
+ The sight they encounter,
+ It still hath been fair!
+
+(_Pause_)
+
+Not alone for pleasure-taking
+Am I planted thus on high;
+What dire vision, horror-waking,
+From yon dark world scares mine eye!
+Fiery sparkles see I gleaming
+Through the lindens' two-fold night;
+By the breezes fanned, their beaming
+Gloweth now with fiercer light!
+Ah! the peaceful hut is burning;
+Stood its moss-grown walls for years;
+They for speedy help are yearning--
+And no rescue, none appears!
+Ah the aged folk, so kindly,
+Once so careful of the fire,
+Now, to smoke a prey, they blindly
+Perish, oh misfortune dire!
+'Mid red flames, the vision dazing,
+Stands the moss-hut, black and bare;
+From the hell, so fiercely blazing,
+Could we save the honest pair!
+Lightning-like the fire advances,
+'Mid the foliage, 'mid the branches;
+Withered boughs,--they flicker, burning,
+Swiftly glow, then fall;--ah me!
+Must mine eyes, this woe discerning,
+Must they so far-sighted be!
+Down the lowly chapel crashes
+'Neath the branches' fall and weight;
+Winding now, the pointed flashes
+To the summit climb elate.
+Roots and trunks the flames have blighted,
+Hollow, purple-red, they glow!
+
+(_Long pause. Song_)
+
+Gone, what once the eye delighted,
+With the ages long ago!
+
+FAUST (_on the balcony, toward the downs_)
+
+From above what plaintive whimper?
+Word and tone are here too late!
+Wails my warder; me, in spirit
+Grieves this deed precipitate!
+Though in ruin unexpected
+Charred now lie the lindens old,
+Soon a height will be erected,
+Whence the boundless to behold.
+I the home shall see, enfolding
+In its walls, that ancient pair,
+Who, my gracious care beholding,
+Shall their lives end joyful there.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES _and_ THE THREE (_below_)
+
+Hither we come full speed. We crave
+Your pardon! Things have not gone right!
+Full many a knock and kick we gave,
+They opened not, in our despite;
+Then rattled we and kick'd the more,
+And prostrate lay the rotten door;
+We called aloud with threat severe,
+Yet sooth we found no listening ear.
+And as in such case still befalls,
+They heard not, would not hear our calls;
+Forthwith thy mandate we obeyed,
+And straight for thee a clearance made.
+The pair--their sufferings were light,
+Fainting they sank, and died of fright.
+A stranger, harbor'd there, made show
+Of force, full soon was he laid low;
+In the brief space of this wild fray,
+From coals, that strewn around us lay,
+The straw caught fire; 'tis blazing free,
+As funeral death-pyre for the three.
+
+FAUST
+
+To my commandments deaf were ye!
+Exchange I wished, not robbery.
+For this your wild and ruthless part;--
+I curse it! Share it and depart!
+
+CHORUS
+
+The ancient saw still rings today:
+Force with a willing mind obey;
+If boldly thou canst stand the test,
+Stake house, court, life, and all the rest!
+                           [_Exeunt._]
+
+FAUST
+
+The stars their glance and radiance veil;
+Smoulders the sinking fire, a gale
+Fans it with moisture-laden wings,
+Vapor to me and smoke it brings.
+Rash mandate--rashly, too, obeyed!--
+What hither sweeps like spectral shade?
+
+
+MIDNIGHT
+
+_Four gray women enter_
+
+FIRST
+
+My name, it is Want.
+
+SECOND
+
+           And mine, it is Blame.
+
+THIRD
+
+My name, it is Care.
+
+FOURTH
+
+         Need, that is my name.
+
+THREE (_together_)
+
+The door is fast-bolted, we cannot get in;
+The owner is wealthy, we may not within.
+
+WANT
+
+There fade I to shadow.
+
+
+BLAME
+
+                 There cease I to be.
+
+NEED
+
+His visage the pampered still turneth from me.
+
+CARE
+
+Ye sisters, ye cannot, ye dare not go in;
+But Care through the key-hole an entrance may win.
+                         [CARE _disappears_.]
+
+WANT
+
+Sisters, gray sisters, away let us glide!
+
+BLAME
+
+I bind myself to thee, quite close to thy side.
+
+NEED
+
+And Need at your heels doth with yours blend her breath.[35]
+
+THE THREE
+
+Fast gather the clouds, they eclipse star on star.
+Behind there, behind, from afar, from afar,
+There comes he, our brother, there cometh he--
+Death.
+
+FAUST (_in the palace_)
+
+Four saw I come, but only three went hence.
+Of their discourse I could not catch the sense;
+There fell upon mine ear a sound like breath,
+Thereon a gloomy rhyme-word followed--Death;
+Hollow the sound, with spectral horror fraught!
+Not yet have I, in sooth, my freedom wrought;
+Could I my pathway but from magic free,
+And quite unlearn the spells of sorcery,
+Stood I, oh nature, man alone 'fore thee,
+Then were it worth the trouble man to be!
+Such was I once, ere I in darkness sought,
+And curses dire, through words with error fraught,
+Upon myself and on the world have brought;
+So teems the air with falsehood's juggling brood,
+That no one knows how them he may elude!
+If but one day shines clear, in reason's light--
+In spectral dream envelopes us the night;
+From the fresh fields, as homeward we advance--
+There croaks a bird: what croaks he? some mischance!
+Ensnared by superstition, soon and late;
+As sign and portent, it on us doth wait--
+By fear unmanned, we take our stand alone;
+The portal creaks, and no one enters,--none.
+
+(_Agitated_)
+
+Is some one here?
+
+CARE
+
+            The question prompteth, yes!
+
+FAUST
+
+What art thou then?
+
+CARE
+
+            Here, once for all, am I.
+
+FAUST
+
+Withdraw thyself!
+
+CARE
+
+             My proper place is this.
+
+FAUST (_first angry, then appeased. Aside_)
+
+Take heed, and speak no word of sorcery.
+
+CARE
+
+ Though by outward ear unheard,
+ By my moan the heart is stirred;
+ And in ever-changeful guise,
+ Cruel force I exercise;
+ On the shore and on the sea,
+ Comrade dire hath man in me
+ Ever found, though never sought,
+ Flattered, cursed, so have I wrought.
+ Hast thou as yet Care never known?
+
+FAUST
+
+I have but hurried through the world, I own.
+I by the hair each pleasure seized;
+Relinquished what no longer pleased,
+That which escaped me I let go,
+I've craved, accomplished, and then craved again;
+Thus through my life I've storm'd--with might and main,
+Grandly, with power, at first; but now indeed,
+It goes more cautiously, with wiser heed.
+I know enough of earth, enough of men;
+The view beyond is barred from mortal ken;
+Fool, who would yonder peer with blinking eyes,
+And of his fellows dreams above the skies!
+Firm let him stand, the prospect round him scan,
+Not mute the world to the true-hearted man
+Why need he wander through eternity?
+What he can grasp, that only knoweth he.
+So let him roam adown earth's fleeting day;
+If spirits haunt, let him pursue his way;
+In joy or torment ever onward stride,
+Though every moment still unsatisfied!
+
+CARE
+
+ To him whom I have made mine own
+ All profitless the world hath grown:
+ Eternal gloom around him lies;
+ For him suns neither set nor rise;
+ With outward senses perfect, whole,
+ Dwell darknesses within his soul;
+ Though wealth he owneth, ne'ertheless
+ He nothing truly can possess.
+ Weal, woe, become mere phantasy;
+ He hungers 'mid satiety;
+ Be it joy, or be it sorrow,
+ He postpones it till the morrow;
+ Of the future thinking ever,
+ Prompt for present action never.
+
+FAUST
+
+Forbear! Thou shalt not come near me!
+I will not hear such folly. Hence!
+Avaunt! This evil litany
+The wisest even might bereave of sense.
+
+CARE
+
+ Shall he come or go? He ponders;--
+ All resolve from him is taken;
+ On the beaten path he wanders,
+ Groping on, as if forsaken.
+ Deeper still himself he loses,
+ Everything his sight abuses,
+ Both himself and others hating,
+ Taking breath--and suffocating,
+ Without life--yet scarcely dying,
+ Not despairing--not relying.
+ Rolling on without remission:
+ Loathsome ought, and sad permission,
+ Now deliverance, now vexation,
+ Semi-sleep,--poor recreation,
+ Nail him to his place and wear him,
+ And at last for hell prepare him.
+
+FAUST
+
+Unblessed spectres! Ye mankind have so
+Treated a thousand times, their thoughts deranging;
+E'en uneventful days to mar ye know,
+Into a tangled web of torment changing!
+'Tis hard, I know, from demons to get free,
+The mighty spirit-bond by force untying;
+Yet Care, I never will acknowledge thee,
+Thy strong in-creeping, potency defying.
+
+CARE
+
+ Feel it then now; as thou shalt find
+ When with a curse from thee I've wended:
+ Through their whole lives are mortals blind--
+ So be thou, Faust, ere life be ended!
+                      [_She breathes on him._]
+
+FAUST (_blind_)
+
+Deeper and deeper night is round me sinking;
+Only within me shines a radiant light.
+I haste to realize, in act, my thinking;
+The master's word, that only giveth might.
+Up, vassals, from your couch! my project bold,
+Grandly completed, now let all behold!
+Seize ye your tools; your spades, your shovels ply;
+The work laid down, accomplish instantly!
+Strict rule, swift diligence,--these twain
+The richest recompense obtain.
+Completion of the greatest work demands
+One guiding spirit for a thousand hands.
+
+
+GREAT FORE-COURT OF THE PALACE
+
+_Torches_
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_as overseer leading the way_)
+
+ This way! this way! Come on! come on!
+ Le Lemures, loose of tether,
+ Of tendon, sinew, and of bone,
+ Half natures, patched together!
+
+LEMURES (_in chorus_)
+
+ At thy behest we're here at hand;
+ Thy destined aim half guessing--
+ It is that we a spacious land
+ May win for our possessing.
+ Sharp-pointed stakes we bring with speed,
+ Long chains wherewith to measure.
+ But we've forgotten why indeed
+ To call us was thy pleasure.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+No artist-toil we need today:
+Sufficeth your own measure here:
+At his full length the tallest let him lay!
+Ye others round him straight the turf uprear;
+As for our sires was done of yore,
+An oblong square delve ye once more.
+Out of the palace to the narrow home--
+So at the last the sorry end must come!
+
+LEMURES (_digging, with mocking gestures_)
+
+ In youth when I did live and love,
+ Methought, it was very sweet!
+ Where frolic rang and mirth was rife,
+ Thither still sped my feet.
+
+ Now with his crutch hath spiteful age
+ Dealt me a blow full sore:
+ I stumbled o'er a yawning grave,
+ Why open stood the door!
+
+FAUST (_comes forth from the palace, groping his way by
+the door posts_)
+
+How doth the clang of spades delight my soul!
+For me my vassals toil, the while
+Earth with itself they reconcile,
+The waves within their bounds control,
+And gird the sea with stedfast zone--
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_)
+
+And yet for us dost work alone,
+While thou for dam and bulwark carest;
+Since thus for Neptune thou preparest,
+The water-fiend, a mighty fete;
+Before thee naught but ruin lies;
+The elements are our allies;
+Onward destruction strides elate.
+
+FAUST
+
+Inspector!
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES
+
+         Here.
+
+FAUST
+
+              As many as you may,
+Bring crowds on crowds to labor here;
+Them by reward and rigor cheer;
+Persuade, entice, give ample pay!
+Each day be tidings brought me at what rate
+The moat extends which here we excavate.
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (_half aloud_)
+
+They speak, as if to me they gave
+Report, not of a moat--but of a grave.[36]
+
+FAUST
+
+A marsh along the mountain chain
+Infecteth what's already won;
+Also the noisome pool to drain--
+My last, best triumph then were won:
+To many millions space I thus should give,
+Though not secure, yet free to toil and live;
+Green fields and fertile; men, with cattle blent,
+Upon the newest earth would dwell content,
+Settled forthwith upon the firm-based hill,
+Up-lifted by a valiant people's skill;
+Within, a land like Paradise; outside,
+E'en to the brink, roars the impetuous tide,
+And as it gnaws, striving to enter there,
+All haste, combined, the damage to repair.
+Yea, to this thought I cling, with virtue rife,
+Wisdom's last fruit, profoundly true:
+Freedom alone he earns as well as life,
+Who day by day must conquer them anew.
+So girt by danger, childhood bravely here,
+Youth, manhood, age, shall dwell from year to year;
+Such busy crowds I fain would see,
+Upon free soil stand with a people free;
+Then to the moment might I say;
+Linger awhile, so fair thou art!
+Nor can the traces of my earthly day
+Through ages from the world depart!
+In the presentiment of such high bliss,
+The highest moment I enjoy--'tis this.
+
+(FAUST _sinks back, the_ LEMURES _lay hold of him and
+lay him upon the ground_.)
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Footnote 1: For lack of space, scientists and historians have been
+excluded.]
+
+[Footnote 2: The chief original sources for the life of Goethe are his
+own autobiographic writings, his letters, his diaries, and his
+conversations. Of the autobiographic writings the most important are
+(1) _Poetry and Truth from my Life_, which ends with the year 1775;
+(2) _Italian Journey_, covering the period from September, 1786, to
+June, 1788; (3) _Campaign in France_ and _Siege of Antwerp_, dealing
+with episodes of the years 1792 and 1793; (4) _Annals (Tag- und
+Jahreshefte)_, which are useful for his later years down to 1823. His
+letters, forty-nine volumes in all, and his diaries, thirteen volumes,
+are included in the great Weimar edition of Goethe's works. His
+conversations, so far as they were recorded, have been well edited by
+W. von Biedermann, ten volumes, Leipzig, 1889-1896.]
+
+[Footnote 3: This earlier version was long supposed to be lost, but in
+1910 a copy of the original manuscript was discovered at Zuerich and
+published. Its six books correspond very nearly to the first four of
+the final version.]
+
+[Footnote 4: Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.]
+
+[Footnote 5: Adapted from E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 6: Translator: E.A. Bowring. (All poems in this section
+translated by E.A. Bowring, W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin appear by
+permission of Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.)]
+
+
+[Footnote 7: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 8: Adapted from E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 9: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 10: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 11: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 12: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 13: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 14: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 15: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 16: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 17: W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.]
+
+[Footnote 18: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 19: Translators: W.E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.]
+
+[Footnote 20: Translators: W. E. Aytoun and Theodore Martin.]
+
+[Footnote 21: The title of a lyric piece composed by Schiller in honor
+of the marriage of the hereditary prince of Weimar to the Princess
+Maria of Russia, and performed in 1804.]
+
+[Footnote 22: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 23: Translation: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 24: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 25: Translator: A. I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 26: Translator: A. I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 27: Translator: E. A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 28: Translator: A. I. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 29: Translator: E.A. Bowring.]
+
+[Footnote 30: Translator: A. L. du P. Coleman.]
+
+[Footnote 31: Harvard Classics (Copyright P. F. Collier & Son).]
+
+[Footnote 32: Harvard Classics (Copyright P. F. Collier & Son).]
+
+[Footnote 33: Permission The Macmillan Co., New York, and G. Bell &
+Sons, Ltd., London.]
+
+[Footnote 34: Permission The Macmillan Co., New York, and G. Bell and
+Sons, Ltd., London.]
+
+[Footnote 35: Not and Tod, the German equivalents for Need and Death,
+form a rhyme. As this cannot be rendered in English, I have introduced
+a slight alteration into my translation.]
+
+[Footnote 36: The play of words contained in the original cannot be
+reproduced in translation, the German for Moat being Graben, and for
+grave Grab.]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The German Classics of The Nineteenth
+and Twentieth Centuries, Volume I., by Editor-in-Chief: Kuno Francke
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