diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/14591-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/14591-0.txt | 9024 |
1 files changed, 9024 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/14591-0.txt b/old/14591-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..33ecc62 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14591-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9024 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14591 *** +[Illustration] +[Illustration] +[Illustration] +[Illustration] + + + + +FAUST + + +_by_ + +_Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY + +_Harry Clarke_ + +TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH, IN +THE ORIGINAL METRES, BY + +_Bayard Taylor_ + + +_An Illustrated Edition_ + +THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY + +CLEVELAND, OHIO NEW YORK, N.Y. + + + + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PREFACE +AN GOETHE +DEDICATION +PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE +PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN + +SCENE I. NIGHT (_Faust’s Monologue_) + II. BEFORE THE CITY-GATE + III. THE STUDY (_The Exorcism_) + IV. THE STUDY (_The Compact_) + V. AUERBACH’S CELLAR + VI. WITCHES’ KITCHEN + VII. A STREET + VIII. EVENING + IX. PROMENADE + X. THE NEIGHBOR’S HOUSE + XI. STREET + XII. GARDEN + XIII. A GARDEN-ARBOR + XIV. FOREST AND CAVERN + XV. MARGARET’S ROOM + XVI. MARTHA’S GARDEN + XVII. AT THE FOUNTAIN + XVIII. DONJON (_Margaret’s Prayer_) + XIX. NIGHT (_Valentine’s Death_) + XX. CATHEDRAL + XXI. WALPURGIS-NIGHT + XXII. OBERON AND TITANIA’S GOLDEN WEDDING + XXIII. DREARY DAY + XXIV. NIGHT + XXV. DUNGEON +[Illustration] + + + + +FAUST + + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration: Preface] + +It is twenty years since I first determined to attempt the translation +of _Faust_, in the original metres. At that time, although more than a +score of English translations of the First Part, and three or four of +the Second Part, were in existence, the experiment had not yet been +made. The prose version of Hayward seemed to have been accepted as the +standard, in default of anything more satisfactory: the English critics, +generally sustaining the translator in his views concerning the +secondary importance of form in Poetry, practically discouraged any +further attempt; and no one, familiar with rhythmical expression through +the needs of his own nature, had devoted the necessary love and patience +to an adequate reproduction of the great work of Goethe’s life. + +Mr. Brooks was the first to undertake the task, and the publication of +his translation of the First Part (in 1856) induced me, for a time, to +give up my own design. No previous English version exhibited such +abnegation of the translator’s own tastes and habits of thought, such +reverent desire to present the original in its purest form. The care and +conscience with which the work had been performed were so apparent, that +I now state with reluctance what then seemed to me to be its only +deficiencies,—a lack of the lyrical fire and fluency of the original in +some passages, and an occasional lowering of the tone through the use of +words which are literal, but not equivalent. The plan of translation +adopted by Mr. Brooks was so entirely my own, that when further +residence in Germany and a more careful study of both parts of _Faust_ +had satisfied me that the field was still open,—that the means +furnished by the poetical affinity of the two languages had not yet been +exhausted,—nothing remained for me but to follow him in all essential +particulars. His example confirmed me in the belief that there were few +difficulties in the way of a nearly literal yet thoroughly rhythmical +version of _Faust_, which might not be overcome by loving labor. A +comparison of seventeen English translations, in the arbitrary metres +adopted by the translators, sufficiently showed the danger of allowing +license in this respect: the white light of Goethe’s thought was thereby +passed through the tinted glass of other minds, and assumed the coloring +of each. Moreover, the plea of selecting different metres in the hope of +producing a similar effect is unreasonable, where the identical metres +are possible. + +The value of form, in a poetical work, is the first question to be +considered. No poet ever understood this question more thoroughly than +Goethe himself, or expressed a more positive opinion in regard to it. +The alternative modes of translation which he presents (reported by +Riemer, quoted by Mrs. Austin, in her “Characteristics of Goethe,” and +accepted by Mr. Hayward),[A] are quite independent of his views +concerning the value of form, which we find given elsewhere, in the +clearest and most emphatic manner.[B] Poetry is not simply a fashion of +expression: it is the form of expression absolutely required by a +certain class of ideas. Poetry, indeed, may be distinguished from Prose +by the single circumstance, that it is the utterance of whatever in man +cannot be perfectly uttered in any other than a rhythmical form: it is +useless to say that the naked meaning is independent of the form: on the +contrary, the form contributes essentially to the fullness of the +meaning. In Poetry which endures through its own inherent vitality, +there is no forced union of these two elements. They are as intimately +blended, and with the same mysterious beauty, as the sexes in the +ancient Hermaphroditus. To attempt to represent Poetry in Prose, is very +much like attempting to translate music into speech.[C] + +[A] “‘There are two maxims of translation,’ says he: ‘the one requires +that the author, of a foreign nation, be brought to us in such a manner +that we may regard him as our own; the other, on the contrary, demands +of us that we transport ourselves over to him, and adopt his situation, +his mode of speaking, and his peculiarities. The advantages of both are +sufficiently known to all instructed persons, from masterly examples.’” +Is it necessary, however, that there should always be this alternative? +Where the languages are kindred, and equally capable of all varieties of +metrical expression, may not both these “maxims” be observed in the same +translation? Goethe, it is true, was of the opinion that _Faust_ ought +to be given, in French, in the manner of Clement Marot; but this was +undoubtedly because he felt the inadequacy of modern French to express +the naive, simple realism of many passages. The same objection does not +apply to English. There are a few archaic expressions in _Faust_, but no +more than are still allowed—nay, frequently encouraged—in the English +of our day. + +[B] “You are right,” said Goethe; “there are great and mysterious +agencies included in the various forms of Poetry. If the substance of my +‘Roman Elegies’ were to be expressed in the tone and measure of Byron’s +‘Don Juan,’ it would really have an atrocious effect.”—_Eckermann_. + +“The rhythm,” said Goethe, “is an unconscious result of the poetic mood. +If one should stop to consider it mechanically, when about to write a +poem, one would become bewildered and accomplish nothing of real +poetical value.”—_Ibid_. + +“_All that is poetic in character should be rythmically treated_! Such +is my conviction; and if even a sort of poetic prose should be gradually +introduced, it would only show that the distinction between prose and +poetry had been completely lost sight of.”—_Goethe to Schiller_, 1797. + +Tycho Mommsen, in his excellent essay, _Die Kunst des Deutschen +Uebersetzers aus neueren Sprachen_, goes so far as to say: “The metrical +or rhymed modelling of a poetical work is so essentially the germ of its +being, that, rather than by giving it up, we might hope to construct a +similar work of art before the eyes of our countrymen, by giving up or +changing the substance. The immeasurable result which has followed works +wherein the form has been retained—such as the Homer of Voss, and the +Shakespeare of Tieck and Schlegel—is an incontrovertible evidence of +the vitality of the endeavor.” + +[C] “Goethe’s poems exercise a great sway over me, not only by their +meaning, but also by their rhythm. It is a language which stimulates me +to composition.”—_Beethoven_. + +The various theories of translation from the Greek and Latin poets have +been admirably stated by Dryden in his Preface to the “Translations from +Ovid’s Epistles,” and I do not wish to continue the endless +discussion,—especially as our literature needs examples, not opinions. +A recent expression, however, carries with it so much authority, that I +feel bound to present some considerations which the accomplished scholar +seems to have overlooked. Mr. Lewes[D] justly says: “The effect of +poetry is a compound of music and suggestion; this music and this +suggestion are intermingled in words, which to alter is to alter the +effect. For words in poetry are not, as in prose, simple representatives +of objects and ideas: they are parts of an organic whole,—they are +tones in the harmony.” He thereupon illustrates the effect of +translation by changing certain well-known English stanzas into others, +equivalent in meaning, but lacking their felicity of words, their grace +and melody. I cannot accept this illustration as valid, because Mr. +Lewes purposely omits the very quality which an honest translator should +exhaust his skill in endeavoring to reproduce. He turns away from the +_one best_ word or phrase in the English lines he quotes, whereas the +translator seeks precisely that one best word or phrase (having _all_ +the resources of his language at command), to represent what is said in +_another_ language. More than this, his task is not simply mechanical: +he must feel, and be guided by, a secondary inspiration. Surrendering +himself to the full possession of the spirit which shall speak through +him, he receives, also, a portion of the same creative power. Mr. Lewes +reaches this conclusion: “If, therefore, we reflect what a poem _Faust_ +is, and that it contains almost every variety of style and metre, it +will be tolerably evident that no one unacquainted with the original can +form an adequate idea of it from translation,”[E] which is certainly +correct of any translation wherein something of the rhythmical variety +and beauty of the original is not retained. That very much of the +rhythmical character may be retained in English, was long ago shown by +Mr. Carlyle,[F] in the passages which he translated, both literally and +rhythmically, from the _Helena_ (Part Second). In fact, we have so many +instances of the possibility of reciprocally transferring the finest +qualities of English and German poetry, that there is no sufficient +excuse for an unmetrical translation of _Faust_. I refer especially to +such subtile and melodious lyrics as “The Castle by the Sea,” of Uhland, +and the “Silent Land” of Salis, translated by Mr. Longfellow; Goethe’s +“Minstrel” and “Coptic Song,” by Dr. Hedge; Heine’s “Two Grenadiers,” by +Dr. Furness and many of Heine’s songs by Mr. Leland; and also to the +German translations of English lyrics, by Freiligrath and Strodtmann.[G] + + +[D] Life of Goethe (Book VI.). + +[E] Mr. Lewes gives the following advice: “The English reader would +perhaps best succeed who should first read Dr. Anster’s brilliant +paraphrase, and then carefully go through Hayward’s prose translation.” +This is singularly at variance with the view he has just expressed. Dr. +Anster’s version is an almost incredible dilution of the original, +written in _other_ metres; while Hayward’s entirely omits the element of +poetry. + +[F] Foreign Review, 1828. + +[G] When Freiligrath can thus give us Walter Scott:— + +“Kommt, wie der Wind kommt, Wenn Wälder erzittern Kommt, wie die +Brandung Wenn Flotten zersplittern! Schnell heran, schnell herab, +Schneller kommt Al’e!—Häuptling und Bub’ und Knapp, Herr und Vasalle!” + +or Strodtmann thus reproduce Tennyson:— + +“Es fällt der Strahl auf Burg und Thal, Und schneeige Gipfel, reich an +Sagen; Viel’ Lichter wehn auf blauen Seen, Bergab die Wasserstürze +jagen! Blas, Hüfthorn, blas, in Wiederhall erschallend: Blas, +Horn—antwortet, Echos, hallend, hallend, hallend!” + +—it must be a dull ear which would be satisfied with the omission of +rhythm and rhyme. + +I have a more serious objection, however, to urge against Mr. Hayward’s +prose translation. Where all the restraints of verse are flung aside, we +should expect, at least, as accurate a reproduction of the sense, +spirit, and tone of the original, as the genius of our language will +permit. So far from having given us such a reproduction, Mr. Hayward not +only occasionally mistakes the exact meaning of the German text,[H] but, +wherever two phrases may be used to express the meaning with equal +fidelity, he very frequently selects that which has the less grace, +strength, or beauty.[I] + +[H] On his second page, the line _Mein Lied ertönt der unbekannten +Menge_, “My song sounds to the unknown multitude,” is translated: “My +_sorrow_ voices itself to the strange throng.” Other English +translators, I notice, have followed Mr. Hayward in mistaking _Lied_ for +_Leid_. + +I: + I take but one out of numerous instances, for the sake of +illustration. The close of the Soldier’s Song (Part I. Scene II.) is:— + + “Kühn is das Mühen, + Herrlich der Lohn! + Und die Soldaten + Ziehen davon.” + +Literally: + + Bold is the endeavor, + Splendid the pay! + And the soldiers + March away. + +This Mr. Hayward translates:— + + Bold the adventure, + Noble the reward— + And the soldiers + Are off. + +For there are few things which may not be said, in English, in a twofold +manner,—one poetic, and the other prosaic. In German, equally, a word +which in ordinary use has a bare prosaic character may receive a fairer +and finer quality from its place in verse. The prose translator should +certainly be able to feel the manifestation of this law in both +languages, and should so choose his words as to meet their reciprocal +requirements. A man, however, who is not keenly sensible to the power +and beauty and value of rhythm, is likely to overlook these delicate yet +most necessary distinctions. The author’s thought is stripped of a last +grace in passing through his mind, and frequently presents very much the +same resemblance to the original as an unhewn shaft to the fluted +column. Mr. Hayward unconsciously illustrates his lack of a refined +appreciation of verse, “in giving,” as he says, “_a sort of rhythmical +arrangement_ to the lyrical parts,” his object being “to convey some +notion of the variety of versification which forms one great charm of +the poem.” A literal translation is always possible in the unrhymed +passages; but even here Mr. Hayward’s ear did not dictate to him the +necessity of preserving the original rhythm. + +While, therefore, I heartily recognize his lofty appreciation of +_Faust_,—while I honor him for the patient and conscientious labor he +has bestowed upon his translation,—I cannot but feel that he has +himself illustrated the unsoundness of his argument. Nevertheless, the +circumstance that his prose translation of _Faust_ has received so much +acceptance proves those qualities of the original work which cannot be +destroyed by a test so violent. From the cold bare outline thus +produced, the reader unacquainted with the German language would +scarcely guess what glow of color, what richness of changeful life, what +fluent grace and energy of movement have been lost in the process. We +must, of course, gratefully receive such an outline, where a nearer +approach to the form of the original is impossible, but, until the +latter has been demonstrated, we are wrong to remain content with the +cheaper substitute. + +It seems to me that in all discussions upon this subject the capacities +of the English language have received but scanty justice. The +intellectual tendencies of our race have always been somewhat +conservative, and its standards of literary taste or belief, once set +up, are not varied without a struggle. The English ear is suspicious of +new metres and unaccustomed forms of expression: there are critical +detectives on the track of every author, and a violation of the accepted +canons is followed by a summons to judgment. Thus the tendency is to +contract rather than to expand the acknowledged excellences of the +language.[J] + +[J] I cannot resist the temptation of quoting the following passage from +Jacob Grimm: “No one of all the modern languages has acquired a greater +force and strength than the English, through the derangement and +relinquishment of its ancient laws of sound. The unteachable +(nevertheless _learnable_) profusion of its middle-tones has conferred +upon it an intrinsic power of expression, such as no other human tongue +ever possessed. Its entire, thoroughly intellectual and wonderfully +successful foundation and perfected development issued from a marvelous +union of the two noblest tongues of Europe, the Germanic and the +Romanic. Their mutual relation in the English language is well known, +since the former furnished chiefly the material basis, while the latter +added the intellectual conceptions. The English language, by and through +which the greatest and most eminent poet of modern times—as contrasted +with ancient classical poetry—(of course I can refer only to +Shakespeare) was begotten and nourished, has a just claim to be called a +language of the world; and it appears to be destined, like the English +race, to a higher and broader sway in all quarters of the earth. For in +richness, in compact adjustment of parts, and in pure intelligence, none +of the living languages can be compared with it,—not even our German, +which is divided even as we are divided, and which must cast off many +imperfections before it can boldly enter on its career.”—_Ueber den +Ursprung der Sprache_. + +The difficulties in the way of a nearly literal translation of _Faust_ +in the original metres have been exaggerated, because certain affinities +between the two languages have not been properly considered. With all +the splendor of versification in the work, it contains but few metres of +which the English tongue is not equally capable. Hood has familiarized +us with dactylic (triple) rhymes, and they are remarkably abundant and +skillful in Mr. Lowell’s “Fable for the Critics”: even the unrhymed +iambic hexameter of the _Helena_ occurs now and then in Milton’s _Samson +Agonistes_. It is true that the metrical foot into which the German +language most naturally falls is the _trochaic_, while in English it is +the _iambic_: it is true that German is rich, involved, and tolerant of +new combinations, while English is simple, direct, and rather shy of +compounds; but precisely these differences are so modified in the German +of _Faust_ that there is a mutual approach of the two languages. In +_Faust_, the iambic measure predominates; the style is compact; the many +licenses which the author allows himself are all directed towards a +shorter mode of construction. On the other hand, English metre compels +the use of inversions, admits many verbal liberties prohibited to prose, +and so inclines towards various flexible features of its sister-tongue +that many lines of _Faust_ may be repeated in English without the +slightest change of meaning, measure, or rhyme. There are words, it is +true, with so delicate a bloom upon them that it can in no wise be +preserved; but even such words will always lose less when they carry +with them their rhythmical atmosphere. The flow of Goethe’s verse is +sometimes so similar to that of the corresponding English metre, that +not only its harmonies and caesural pauses, but even its punctuation, +may be easily retained. + +I am satisfied that the difference between a translation of _Faust_ in +prose or metre is chiefly one of labor,—and of that labor which is +successful in proportion as it is joyously performed. My own task has +been cheered by the discovery, that the more closely I reproduced the +language of the original, the more of its rhythmical character was +transferred at the same time. If, now and then, there was an inevitable +alternative of meaning or music, I gave the preference to the former. By +the term “original metres” I do not mean a rigid, unyielding adherence +to every foot, line, and rhyme of the German original, although this has +very nearly been accomplished. Since the greater part of the work is +written in an irregular measure, the lines varying from three to six +feet, and the rhymes arranged according to the author’s will, I do not +consider that an occasional change in the number of feet, or order of +rhyme, is any violation of the metrical plan. The single slight liberty +I have taken with the lyrical passages is in Margaret’s song,—“The King +of Thule,”—in which, by omitting the alternate feminine rhymes, yet +retaining the metre, I was enabled to make the translation strictly +literal. If, in two or three instances, I have left a line unrhymed, I +have balanced the omission by giving rhymes to other lines which stand +unrhymed in the original text. For the same reason, I make no apology +for the imperfect rhymes, which are frequently a translation as well as +a necessity. With all its supreme qualities, _Faust_ is far from being a +technically perfect work.[K] + +[K] “At present, everything runs in technical grooves, and the critical +gentlemen begin to wrangle whether in a rhyme an _s_ should correspond +with an _s_ and not with _sz_. If I were young and reckless enough, I +would purposely offend all such technical caprices: I would use +alliteration, assonance, false rhyme, just according to my own will or +convenience—but, at the same time, I would attend to the main thing, +and endeavor to say so many good things that every one would be +attracted to read and remember them.”—_Goethe_, in 1831. + +The feminine and dactylic rhymes, which have been for the most part +omitted by all metrical translators except Mr. Brooks, are +indispensable. The characteristic tone of many passages would be nearly +lost, without them. They give spirit and grace to the dialogue, point to +the aphoristic portions (especially in the Second Part), and an +ever-changing music to the lyrical passages. The English language, +though not so rich as the German in such rhymes, is less deficient than +is generally supposed. The difficulty to be overcome is one of +construction rather than of the vocabulary. The present participle can +only be used to a limited extent, on account of its weak termination, +and the want of an accusative form to the noun also restricts the +arrangement of words in English verse. I cannot hope to have been always +successful; but I have at least labored long and patiently, bearing +constantly in mind not only the meaning of the original and the +mechanical structure of the lines, but also that subtile and haunting +music which seems to govern rhythm instead of being governed by it. + +B.T. + +[Illustration] + + + + +AN GOETHE + + +_Erhabener Geist, im Geisterreich verloren! +Wo immer Deine lichte Wohnung sey, +Zum höh’ren Schaffen bist Du neugeboren, +Und singest dort die voll’re Litanei. +Von jenem Streben das Du auserkoren, +Vom reinsten Aether, drin Du athmest frei, +O neige Dich zu gnädigem Erwiedern +Des letzten Wiederhalls von Deinen Liedern! + + +II + +Den alten Musen die bestäubten Kronen +Nahmst Du, zu neuem Glanz, mit kühner Hand: +Du löst die Räthsel ältester Aeonen +Durch jüngeren Glauben, helleren Verstand, +Und machst, wo rege Menschengeister wohnen, +Die ganze Erde Dir zum Vaterland; +Und Deine Jünger sehn in Dir, verwundert, +Verkörpert schon das werdende Jahrhundert. + + +III + +Was Du gesungen, Aller Lust und Klagen, +Des Lebens Wiedersprüche, neu vermählt,— +Die Harfe tausendstimmig frisch geschlagen, +Die Shakspeare einst, die einst Homer gewählt,— +Darf ich in fremde Klänge übertragen +Das Alles, wo so Mancher schon gefehlt? +Lass Deinen Geist in meiner Stimme klingen, +Und was Du sangst, lass mich es Dir nachsingen!_ + +B.T. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration: =Dedication=] + +Again ye come, ye hovering Forms! I find ye, +As early to my clouded sight ye shone! +Shall I attempt, this once, to seize and bind ye? +Still o’er my heart is that illusion thrown? +Ye crowd more near! Then, be the reign assigned ye, +And sway me from your misty, shadowy zone! +My bosom thrills, with youthful passion shaken, +From magic airs that round your march awaken. + +Of joyous days ye bring the blissful vision; +The dear, familiar phantoms rise again, +And, like an old and half-extinct tradition, +First Love returns, with Friendship in his train. +Renewed is Pain: with mournful repetition +Life tracks his devious, labyrinthine chain, +And names the Good, whose cheating fortune tore them +From happy hours, and left me to deplore them. + +They hear no longer these succeeding measures, +The souls, to whom my earliest songs I sang: + +Dispersed the friendly troop, with all its pleasures, +And still, alas! the echoes first that rang! +I bring the unknown multitude my treasures; +Their very plaudits give my heart a pang, +And those beside, whose joy my Song so flattered, +If still they live, wide through the world are scattered. + +And grasps me now a long-unwonted yearning +For that serene and solemn Spirit-Land: +My song, to faint Aeolian murmurs turning, +Sways like a harp-string by the breezes fanned. +I thrill and tremble; tear on tear is burning, +And the stern heart is tenderly unmanned. +What I possess, I see far distant lying, +And what I lost, grows real and undying. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration: =Prelude at the Theatre=] + + +MANAGER DRAMATIC POET MERRY-ANDREW + +MANAGER + +You two, who oft a helping hand +Have lent, in need and tribulation. +Come, let me know your expectation +Of this, our enterprise, in German land! +I wish the crowd to feel itself well treated, +Especially since it lives and lets me live; +The posts are set, the booth of boards completed. +And each awaits the banquet I shall give. +Already there, with curious eyebrows raised, +They sit sedate, and hope to be amazed. +I know how one the People’s taste may flatter, +Yet here a huge embarrassment I feel: +What they’re accustomed to, is no great matter, +But then, alas! they’ve read an awful deal. +How shall we plan, that all be fresh and new,— +Important matter, yet attractive too? +For ’tis my pleasure-to behold them surging, +When to our booth the current sets apace, +And with tremendous, oft-repeated urging, +Squeeze onward through the narrow gate of grace: +By daylight even, they push and cram in +To reach the seller’s box, a fighting host, +And as for bread, around a baker’s door, in famine, +To get a ticket break their necks almost. +This miracle alone can work the Poet +On men so various: now, my friend, pray show it. + + +POET + + +Speak not to me of yonder motley masses, +Whom but to see, puts out the fire of Song! +Hide from my view the surging crowd that passes, +And in its whirlpool forces us along! +No, lead me where some heavenly silence glasses +The purer joys that round the Poet throng,— +Where Love and Friendship still divinely fashion +The bonds that bless, the wreaths that crown his passion! +Ah, every utterance from the depths of feeling +The timid lips have stammeringly expressed,— +Now failing, now, perchance, success revealing,— +Gulps the wild Moment in its greedy breast; +Or oft, reluctant years its warrant sealing, +Its perfect stature stands at last confessed! +What dazzles, for the Moment spends its spirit: +What’s genuine, shall Posterity inherit. + + +MERRY-ANDREW + + +Posterity! Don’t name the word to me! +If _I_ should choose to preach Posterity, +Where would you get contemporary fun? +That men _will_ have it, there’s no blinking: +A fine young fellow’s presence, to my thinking, +Is something worth, to every one. +Who genially his nature can outpour, +Takes from the People’s moods no irritation; +The wider circle he acquires, the more +Securely works his inspiration. +Then pluck up heart, and give us sterling coin! +Let Fancy be with her attendants fitted,— +Sense, Reason, Sentiment, and Passion join,— +But have a care, lest Folly be omitted! + +MANAGER + +Chiefly, enough of incident prepare! +They come to look, and they prefer to stare. +Reel off a host of threads before their faces, +So that they gape in stupid wonder: then +By sheer diffuseness you have won their graces, +And are, at once, most popular of men. +Only by mass you touch the mass; for any +Will finally, himself, his bit select: +Who offers much, brings something unto many, +And each goes home content with the effect, +If you’ve a piece, why, just in pieces give it: +A hash, a stew, will bring success, believe it! +’Tis easily displayed, and easy to invent. +What use, a Whole compactly to present? +Your hearers pick and pluck, as soon as they receive it! + +POET + +You do not feel, how such a trade debases; +How ill it suits the Artist, proud and true! +The botching work each fine pretender traces +Is, I perceive, a principle with you. + +MANAGER + +Such a reproach not in the least offends; +A man who some result intends +Must use the tools that best are fitting. +Reflect, soft wood is given to you for splitting, +And then, observe for whom you write! +If one comes bored, exhausted quite, +Another, satiate, leaves the banquet’s tapers, +And, worst of all, full many a wight +Is fresh from reading of the daily papers. +Idly to us they come, as to a masquerade, +Mere curiosity their spirits warming: +The ladies with themselves, and with their finery, aid, +Without a salary their parts performing. +What dreams are yours in high poetic places? +You’re pleased, forsooth, full houses to behold? +Draw near, and view your patrons’ faces! +The half are coarse, the half are cold. +One, when the play is out, goes home to cards; +A wild night on a wench’s breast another chooses: +Why should you rack, poor, foolish bards, +For ends like these, the gracious Muses? +I tell you, give but more—more, ever more, they ask: +Thus shall you hit the mark of gain and glory. +Seek to confound your auditory! +To satisfy them is a task.— +What ails you now? Is’t suffering, or pleasure? + +POET + +Go, find yourself a more obedient slave! +What! shall the Poet that which Nature gave, +The highest right, supreme Humanity, +Forfeit so wantonly, to swell your treasure? +Whence o’er the heart his empire free? +The elements of Life how conquers he? +Is’t not his heart’s accord, urged outward far and dim, +To wind the world in unison with him? +When on the spindle, spun to endless distance, +By Nature’s listless hand the thread is twirled, +And the discordant tones of all existence +In sullen jangle are together hurled, +Who, then, the changeless orders of creation +Divides, and kindles into rhythmic dance? +Who brings the One to join the general ordination, +Where it may throb in grandest consonance? +Who bids the storm to passion stir the bosom? +In brooding souls the sunset burn above? +Who scatters every fairest April blossom +Along the shining path of Love? +Who braids the noteless leaves to crowns, requiting +Desert with fame, in Action’s every field? +Who makes Olympus sure, the Gods uniting? +The might of Man, as in the Bard revealed. + +MERRY-ANDREW + +So, these fine forces, in conjunction, +Propel the high poetic function, +As in a love-adventure they might play! +You meet by accident; you feel, you stay, +And by degrees your heart is tangled; +Bliss grows apace, and then its course is jangled; +You’re ravished quite, then comes a touch of woe, +And there’s a neat romance, completed ere you know! +Let us, then, such a drama give! +Grasp the exhaustless life that all men live! +Each shares therein, though few may comprehend: +Where’er you touch, there’s interest without end. +In motley pictures little light, +Much error, and of truth a glimmering mite, +Thus the best beverage is supplied, +Whence all the world is cheered and edified. +Then, at your play, behold the fairest flower +Of youth collect, to hear the revelation! +Each tender soul, with sentimental power, +Sucks melancholy food from your creation; +And now in this, now that, the leaven works. +For each beholds what in his bosom lurks. +They still are moved at once to weeping or to laughter, +Still wonder at your flights, enjoy the show they see: +A mind, once formed, is never suited after; +One yet in growth will ever grateful be. + +POET + +Then give me back that time of pleasures, +While yet in joyous growth I sang,— +When, like a fount, the crowding measures +Uninterrupted gushed and sprang! +Then bright mist veiled the world before me, +In opening buds a marvel woke, +As I the thousand blossoms broke, +Which every valley richly bore me! +I nothing had, and yet enough for youth— +Joy in Illusion, ardent thirst for Truth. +Give, unrestrained, the old emotion, +The bliss that touched the verge of pain, +The strength of Hate, Love’s deep devotion,— +O, give me back my youth again! + +MERRY ANDREW + +Youth, good my friend, you certainly require +When foes in combat sorely press you; +When lovely maids, in fond desire, +Hang on your bosom and caress you; +When from the hard-won goal the wreath +Beckons afar, the race awaiting; +When, after dancing out your breath, +You pass the night in dissipating:— +But that familiar harp with soul +To play,—with grace and bold expression, +And towards a self-erected goal +To walk with many a sweet digression,— +This, aged Sirs, belongs to you, +And we no less revere you for that reason: +Age childish makes, they say, but ’tis not true; +We’re only genuine children still, in Age’s season! + + +MANAGER + +The words you’ve bandied are sufficient; +’Tis deeds that I prefer to see: +In compliments you’re both proficient, +But might, the while, more useful be. +What need to talk of Inspiration? +’Tis no companion of Delay. +If Poetry be your vocation, +Let Poetry your will obey! +Full well you know what here is wanting; +The crowd for strongest drink is panting, +And such, forthwith, I’d have you brew. +What’s left undone to-day, To-morrow will not do. +Waste not a day in vain digression: +With resolute, courageous trust +Seize every possible impression, +And make it firmly your possession; +You’ll then work on, because you must. +Upon our German stage, you know it, +Each tries his hand at what he will; +So, take of traps and scenes your fill, +And all you find, be sure to show it! +Use both the great and lesser heavenly light,— +Squander the stars in any number, +Beasts, birds, trees, rocks, and all such lumber, +Fire, water, darkness, Day and Night! +Thus, in our booth’s contracted sphere, +The circle of Creation will appear, +And move, as we deliberately impel, +From Heaven, across the World, to Hell! +[Illustration] +[Illustration] + +PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN + +THE LORD THE HEAVENLY HOST _Afterwards_ +MEPHISTOPHELES + +(_The_ THREE ARCHANGELS _come forward_.) + + +RAPHAEL + +The sun-orb sings, in emulation, +’Mid brother-spheres, his ancient round: +His path predestined through Creation +He ends with step of thunder-sound. +The angels from his visage splendid +Draw power, whose measure none can say; +The lofty works, uncomprehended, +Are bright as on the earliest day. + + +GABRIEL + +And swift, and swift beyond conceiving, +The splendor of the world goes round, +Day’s Eden-brightness still relieving +The awful Night’s intense profound: +The ocean-tides in foam are breaking, +Against the rocks’ deep bases hurled, +And both, the spheric race partaking, +Eternal, swift, are onward whirled! + + +MICHAEL + +And rival storms abroad are surging +From sea to land, from land to sea. +A chain of deepest action forging +Round all, in wrathful energy. +There flames a desolation, blazing +Before the Thunder’s crashing way: +Yet, Lord, Thy messengers are praising +The gentle movement of Thy Day. + + +THE THREE + +Though still by them uncomprehended, +From these the angels draw their power, +And all Thy works, sublime and splendid, +Are bright as in Creation’s hour. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Since Thou, O Lord, deign’st to approach again +And ask us how we do, in manner kindest, +And heretofore to meet myself wert fain, +Among Thy menials, now, my face Thou findest. +Pardon, this troop I cannot follow after +With lofty speech, though by them scorned and spurned: +My pathos certainly would move Thy laughter, +If Thou hadst not all merriment unlearned. +Of suns and worlds I’ve nothing to be quoted; +How men torment themselves, is all I’ve noted. +The little god o’ the world sticks to the same old way, +And is as whimsical as on Creation’s day. +Life somewhat better might content him, +But for the gleam of heavenly light which Thou hast lent him: +He calls it Reason—thence his power’s increased, +To be far beastlier than any beast. +Saving Thy Gracious Presence, he to me +A long-legged grasshopper appears to be, +That springing flies, and flying springs, +And in the grass the same old ditty sings. +Would he still lay among the grass he grows in! +Each bit of dung he seeks, to stick his nose in. + + +THE LORD + +Hast thou, then, nothing more to mention? +Com’st ever, thus, with ill intention? +Find’st nothing right on earth, eternally? + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +No, Lord! I find things, there, still bad as they can be. +Man’s misery even to pity moves my nature; +I’ve scarce the heart to plague the wretched creature. + + +THE LORD + +Know’st Faust? + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +The Doctor Faust? + + +THE LORD + +My servant, he! + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Forsooth! He serves you after strange devices: +No earthly meat or drink the fool suffices: +His spirit’s ferment far aspireth; +Half conscious of his frenzied, crazed unrest, +The fairest stars from Heaven he requireth, +From Earth the highest raptures and the best, +And all the Near and Far that he desireth +Fails to subdue the tumult of his breast. + + +THE LORD + +Though still confused his service unto Me, +I soon shall lead him to a clearer morning. +Sees not the gardener, even while buds his tree, +Both flower and fruit the future years adorning? + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +What will you bet? There’s still a chance to gain him, +If unto me full leave you give, +Gently upon _my_ road to train him! + + +THE LORD + +As long as he on earth shall live, +So long I make no prohibition. +While Man’s desires and aspirations stir, +He cannot choose but err. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +My thanks! I find the dead no acquisition, +And never cared to have them in my keeping. +I much prefer the cheeks where ruddy blood is leaping, +And when a corpse approaches, close my house: +It goes with me, as with the cat the mouse. + + +THE LORD + +Enough! What thou hast asked is granted. +Turn off this spirit from his fountain-head; +To trap him, let thy snares be planted, +And him, with thee, be downward led; +Then stand abashed, when thou art forced to say: +A good man, through obscurest aspiration, +Has still an instinct of the one true way. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Agreed! But ’tis a short probation. +About my bet I feel no trepidation. +If I fulfill my expectation, +You’ll let me triumph with a swelling breast: +Dust shall he eat, and with a zest, +As did a certain snake, my near relation. + + +THE LORD + +Therein thou’rt free, according to thy merits; +The like of thee have never moved My hate. +Of all the bold, denying Spirits, +The waggish knave least trouble doth create. +Man’s active nature, flagging, seeks too soon the level; +Unqualified repose he learns to crave; +Whence, willingly, the comrade him I gave, +Who works, excites, and must create, as Devil. +But ye, God’s sons in love and duty, +Enjoy the rich, the ever-living Beauty! +Creative Power, that works eternal schemes, +Clasp you in bonds of love, relaxing never, +And what in wavering apparition gleams +Fix in its place with thoughts that stand forever! + + +(_Heaven closes: the_ ARCHANGELS _separate_.) + + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_solus_) + +I like, at times, to hear The Ancient’s word, +And have a care to be most civil: +It’s really kind of such a noble Lord +So humanly to gossip with the Devil! +[Illustration] +[Illustration] + + + + +FIRST PART OF THE TRAGEDY + + +I + +NIGHT + +(_A lofty-arched, narrow, Gothic chamber_. FAUST, _in a chair at his +desk, restless_.) + + +FAUST + +I’ve studied now Philosophy +And Jurisprudence, Medicine,— +And even, alas! Theology,— +From end to end, with labor keen; +And here, poor fool! with all my lore +I stand, no wiser than before: +I’m Magister—yea, Doctor—hight, +And straight or cross-wise, wrong or right, +These ten years long, with many woes, +I’ve led my scholars by the nose,— +And see, that nothing can be known! +_That_ knowledge cuts me to the bone. +I’m cleverer, true, than those fops of teachers, +Doctors and Magisters, Scribes and Preachers; +Neither scruples nor doubts come now to smite me, +Nor Hell nor Devil can longer affright me. + +For this, all pleasure am I foregoing; +I do not pretend to aught worth knowing, +I do not pretend I could be a teacher +To help or convert a fellow-creature. +Then, too, I’ve neither lands nor gold, +Nor the world’s least pomp or honor hold— +No dog would endure such a curst existence! +Wherefore, from Magic I seek assistance, +That many a secret perchance I reach +Through spirit-power and spirit-speech, +And thus the bitter task forego +Of saying the things I do not know,— +That I may detect the inmost force +Which binds the world, and guides its course; +Its germs, productive powers explore, +And rummage in empty words no more! + +O full and splendid Moon, whom I +Have, from this desk, seen climb the sky +So many a midnight,—would thy glow +For the last time beheld my woe! +Ever thine eye, most mournful friend, +O’er books and papers saw me bend; +But would that I, on mountains grand, +Amid thy blessed light could stand, +With spirits through mountain-caverns hover, +Float in thy twilight the meadows over, +And, freed from the fumes of lore that swathe me, +To health in thy dewy fountains bathe me! + +Ah, me! this dungeon still I see. +This drear, accursed masonry, +Where even the welcome daylight strains +But duskly through the painted panes. +Hemmed in by many a toppling heap +Of books worm-eaten, gray with dust, +Which to the vaulted ceiling creep, +Against the smoky paper thrust,— +With glasses, boxes, round me stacked, +And instruments together hurled, +Ancestral lumber, stuffed and packed— +Such is my world: and what a world! + +And do I ask, wherefore my heart +Falters, oppressed with unknown needs? +Why some inexplicable smart +All movement of my life impedes? +Alas! in living Nature’s stead, +Where God His human creature set, +In smoke and mould the fleshless dead +And bones of beasts surround me yet! + +Fly! Up, and seek the broad, free land! +And this one Book of Mystery +From Nostradamus’ very hand, +Is’t not sufficient company? +When I the starry courses know, +And Nature’s wise instruction seek, +With light of power my soul shall glow, +As when to spirits spirits speak. +Tis vain, this empty brooding here, +Though guessed the holy symbols be: +Ye, Spirits, come—ye hover near— +Oh, if you hear me, answer me! + +(_He opens the Book, and perceives the sign of the Macrocosm_.) + +Ha! what a sudden rapture leaps from this +I view, through all my senses swiftly flowing! +I feel a youthful, holy, vital bliss +In every vein and fibre newly glowing. +Was it a God, who traced this sign, +With calm across my tumult stealing, +My troubled heart to joy unsealing, +With impulse, mystic and divine, +The powers of Nature here, around my path, revealing? +Am I a God?—so clear mine eyes! +In these pure features I behold +Creative Nature to my soul unfold. +What says the sage, now first I recognize: +“The spirit-world no closures fasten; +Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead: +Disciple, up! untiring, hasten +To bathe thy breast in morning-red!” + +(_He contemplates the sign_.) + +How each the Whole its substance gives, +Each in the other works and lives! +Like heavenly forces rising and descending, +Their golden urns reciprocally lending, +With wings that winnow blessing +From Heaven through Earth I see them pressing, +Filling the All with harmony unceasing! +How grand a show! but, ah! a show alone. +Thee, boundless Nature, how make thee my own? +Where you, ye beasts? Founts of all Being, shining, +Whereon hang Heaven’s and Earth’s desire, +Whereto our withered hearts aspire,— +Ye flow, ye feed: and am I vainly pining? + +(_He turns the leaves impatiently, and perceives the sign of the +Earth-Spirit_.) + +How otherwise upon me works this sign! +Thou, Spirit of the Earth, art nearer: +Even now my powers are loftier, clearer; +I glow, as drunk with new-made wine: +New strength and heart to meet the world incite me, +The woe of earth, the bliss of earth, invite me, +And though the shock of storms may smite me, +No crash of shipwreck shall have power to fright me! +Clouds gather over me— +The moon conceals her light— +The lamp’s extinguished!— +Mists rise,—red, angry rays are darting +Around my head!—There falls +A horror from the vaulted roof, +And seizes me! +I feel thy presence, Spirit I invoke! +Reveal thyself! +Ha! in my heart what rending stroke! +With new impulsion +My senses heave in this convulsion! +I feel thee draw my heart, absorb, exhaust me: +Thou must! thou must! and though my life it cost me! + +(_He seizes the book, and mysteriously pronounces the sign of +the Spirit. A ruddy flame flashes: the Spirit appears in +the flame_.) + + +SPIRIT + +Who calls me? + + +FAUST (_with averted head_) + +Terrible to see! + + +SPIRIT + +Me hast thou long with might attracted, +Long from my sphere thy food exacted, +And now— + +FAUST + + Woe! I endure not thee! + + +SPIRIT + +To view me is thine aspiration, +My voice to hear, my countenance to see; +Thy powerful yearning moveth me, +Here am I!—what mean perturbation +Thee, superhuman, shakes? Thy soul’s high calling, where? +Where is the breast, which from itself a world did bear, +And shaped and cherished—which with joy expanded, +To be our peer, with us, the Spirits, banded? +Where art thou, Faust, whose voice has pierced to me, +Who towards me pressed with all thine energy? +_He_ art thou, who, my presence breathing, seeing, +Trembles through all the depths of being, +A writhing worm, a terror-stricken form? + + +FAUST + +Thee, form of flame, shall I then fear? +Yes, I am Faust: I am thy peer! + + +SPIRIT + + In the tides of Life, in Action’s storm, + A fluctuant wave, + A shuttle free, + Birth and the Grave, + An eternal sea, + A weaving, flowing + Life, all-glowing, +Thus at Time’s humming loom ’tis my hand prepares +The garment of Life which the Deity wears! + + +FAUST + +Thou, who around the wide world wendest, +Thou busy Spirit, how near I feel to thee! + + +SPIRIT + +Thou’rt like the Spirit which thou comprehendest, +Not me! + +(_Disappears_.) + + +FAUST (_overwhelmed_) + +Not thee! +Whom then? +I, image of the Godhead! +Not even like thee! + +(_A knock_). + +O Death!—I know it—’tis my Famulus! +My fairest luck finds no fruition: +In all the fullness of my vision +The soulless sneak disturbs me thus! + +(_Enter_ WAGNER_, in dressing-gown and night-cap, a lamp in +his hand. _FAUST_ turns impatiently_.) + + +WAGNER + +Pardon, I heard your declamation; +’Twas sure an old Greek tragedy you read? +In such an art I crave some preparation, +Since now it stands one in good stead. +I’ve often heard it said, a preacher +Might learn, with a comedian for a teacher. + + +FAUST + +Yes, when the priest comedian is by nature, +As haply now and then the case may be. + + +WAGNER + +Ah, when one studies thus, a prisoned creature, +That scarce the world on holidays can see,— +Scarce through a glass, by rare occasion, +How shall one lead it by persuasion? + + +FAUST + +You’ll ne’er attain it, save you know the feeling, +Save from the soul it rises clear, +Serene in primal strength, compelling +The hearts and minds of all who hear. +You sit forever gluing, patching; +You cook the scraps from others’ fare; +And from your heap of ashes hatching +A starveling flame, ye blow it bare! +Take children’s, monkeys’ gaze admiring, +If such your taste, and be content; +But ne’er from heart to heart you’ll speak inspiring, +Save your own heart is eloquent! + + +WAGNER + +Yet through delivery orators succeed; +I feel that I am far behind, indeed. + + +FAUST + +Seek thou the honest recompense! +Beware, a tinkling fool to be! +With little art, clear wit and sense +Suggest their own delivery; +And if thou’rt moved to speak in earnest, +What need, that after words thou yearnest? +Yes, your discourses, with their glittering show, +Where ye for men twist shredded thought like paper, +Are unrefreshing as the winds that blow +The rustling leaves through chill autumnal vapor! + + +WAGNER + +Ah, God! but Art is long, +And Life, alas! is fleeting. +And oft, with zeal my critic-duties meeting, +In head and breast there’s something wrong. + +How hard it is to compass the assistance +Whereby one rises to the source! +And, haply, ere one travels half the course +Must the poor devil quit existence. + + +FAUST + +Is parchment, then, the holy fount before thee, +A draught wherefrom thy thirst forever slakes? +No true refreshment can restore thee, +Save what from thine own soul spontaneous breaks. + + +WAGNER + +Pardon! a great delight is granted +When, in the spirit of the ages planted, +We mark how, ere our times, a sage has thought, +And then, how far his work, and grandly, we have brought. + + +FAUST + +O yes, up to the stars at last! +Listen, my friend: the ages that are past +Are now a book with seven seals protected: +What you the Spirit of the Ages call +Is nothing but the spirit of you all, +Wherein the Ages are reflected. +So, oftentimes, you miserably mar it! +At the first glance who sees it runs away. +An offal-barrel and a lumber-garret, +Or, at the best, a Punch-and-Judy play, +With maxims most pragmatical and hitting, +As in the mouths of puppets are befitting! + + +WAGNER + +But then, the world—the human heart and brain! +Of these one covets some slight apprehension. + + +FAUST + +Yes, of the kind which men attain! +Who dares the child’s true name in public mention? +The few, who thereof something really learned, +Unwisely frank, with hearts that spurned concealing, +And to the mob laid bare each thought and feeling, +Have evermore been crucified and burned. +I pray you, Friend, ’tis now the dead of night; +Our converse here must be suspended. + + +WAGNER + +I would have shared your watches with delight, +That so our learned talk might be extended. +To-morrow, though, I’ll ask, in Easter leisure, +This and the other question, at your pleasure. +Most zealously I seek for erudition: +Much do I know—but to know all is my ambition. + + [_Exit_. + + +FAUST (_solus_) + +That brain, alone, not loses hope, whose choice is +To stick in shallow trash forevermore,— +Which digs with eager hand for buried ore, +And, when it finds an angle-worm, rejoices! + +Dare such a human voice disturb the flow, +Around me here, of spirit-presence fullest? +And yet, this once my thanks I owe +To thee, of all earth’s sons the poorest, dullest! +For thou hast torn me from that desperate state +Which threatened soon to overwhelm my senses: +The apparition was so giant-great, +It dwarfed and withered all my soul’s pretences! + +I, image of the Godhead, who began— +Deeming Eternal Truth secure in nearness— +To sun myself in heavenly light and clearness, +And laid aside the earthly man;— +I, more than Cherub, whose free force had planned +To flow through Nature’s veins in glad pulsation, +To reach beyond, enjoying in creation +The life of Gods, behold my expiation! +A thunder-word hath swept me from my stand.27 + +With thee I dare not venture to compare me. +Though I possessed the power to draw thee near me, +The power to keep thee was denied my hand. +When that ecstatic moment held me, +I felt myself so small, so great; +But thou hast ruthlessly repelled me +Back upon Man’s uncertain fate. +What shall I shun? Whose guidance borrow? +Shall I accept that stress and strife? +Ah! every deed of ours, no less than every sorrow, +Impedes the onward march of life. + +Some alien substance more and more is cleaving +To all the mind conceives of grand and fair; +When this world’s Good is won by our achieving, +The Better, then, is named a cheat and snare. +The fine emotions, whence our lives we mould, +Lie in the earthly tumult dumb and cold. +If hopeful Fancy once, in daring flight, +Her longings to the Infinite expanded, +Yet now a narrow space contents her quite, +Since Time’s wild wave so many a fortune stranded. +Care at the bottom of the heart is lurking: +Her secret pangs in silence working, +She, restless, rocks herself, disturbing joy and rest: +In newer masks her face is ever drest, +By turns as house and land, as wife and child, presented,— +As water, fire, as poison, steel: +We dread the blows we never feel, +And what we never lose is yet by us lamented! + +I am not like the Gods! That truth is felt too deep: +The worm am I, that in the dust doth creep,— +That, while in dust it lives and seeks its bread, +Is crushed and buried by the wanderer’s tread. + +Is not this dust, these walls within them hold, +The hundred shelves, which cramp and chain me, +The frippery, the trinkets thousandfold, +That in this mothy den restrain me? +Here shall I find the help I need? +Shall here a thousand volumes teach me only +That men, self-tortured, everywhere must bleed,— +And here and there one happy man sits lonely?28 +What mean’st thou by that grin, thou hollow skull, +Save that thy brain, like mine, a cloudy mirror, +Sought once the shining day, and then, in twilight dull,29 +Thirsting for Truth, went wretchedly to Error? +Ye instruments, forsooth, but jeer at me +With wheel and cog, and shapes uncouth of wonder; +I found the portal, you the keys should be; +Your wards are deftly wrought, but drive no bolts asunder! +Mysterious even in open day, +Nature retains her veil, despite our clamors: +That which she doth not willingly display +Cannot be wrenched from her with levers, screws, and hammers. +Ye ancient tools, whose use I never knew, +Here, since my father used ye, still ye moulder: +Thou, ancient scroll, hast worn thy smoky hue +Since at this desk the dim lamp wont to smoulder. +’T were better far, had I my little idly spent, +Than now to sweat beneath its burden, I confess it! +What from your fathers’ heritage is lent, +Earn it anew, to really possess it!30 +What serves not, is a sore impediment: +The Moment’s need creates the thing to serve and bless it! + +Yet, wherefore tums my gaze to yonder point so lightly? +Is yonder flask a magnet for mine eyes? +Whence, all around me, glows the air so brightly, +As when in woods at night the mellow moonbeam lies? + +I hail thee, wondrous, rarest vial! +I take thee down devoutly, for the trial: +Man’s art and wit I venerate in thee. +Thou summary of gentle slumber-juices, +Essence of deadly finest powers and uses, +Unto thy master show thy favor free! +I see thee, and the stings of pain diminish; +I grasp thee, and my struggles slowly finish: +My spirit’s flood-tide ebbeth more and more. +Out on the open ocean speeds my dreaming; +The glassy flood before my feet is gleaming, +A new day beckons to a newer shore! + +A fiery chariot, borne on buoyant pinions, +Sweeps near me now! I soon shall ready be +To pierce the ether’s high, unknown dominions, +To reach new spheres of pure activity! +This godlike rapture, this supreme existence, +Do I, but now a worm, deserve to track? +Yes, resolute to reach some brighter distance, +On Earth’s fair sun I turn my back 31 +Yes, let me dare those gates to fling asunder, +Which every man would fain go slinking by! +’T is time, through deeds this word of truth to thunder: +That with the height of Gods Man’s dignity may vie! +Nor from that gloomy gulf to shrink affrighted, +Where Fancy doth herself to self-born pangs compel,— +To struggle toward that pass benighted, +Around whose narrow mouth flame all the fires of Hell,— +To take this step with cheerful resolution, +Though Nothingness should be the certain, swift conclusion! +And now come down, thou cup of crystal clearest! +Fresh from thine ancient cover thou appearest, +So many years forgotten to my thought! +Thou shon’st at old ancestral banquets cheery, +The solemn guests thou madest merry, +When one thy wassail to the other brought. +The rich and skilful figures o’er thee wrought, +The drinker’s duty, rhyme-wise to explain them, +Or in one breath below the mark to drain them, +From many a night of youth my memory caught. +Now to a neighbor shall I pass thee never, +Nor on thy curious art to test my wit endeavor, +Here is a juice whence sleep is swiftly born. +It fills with browner flood thy crystal hollow; +I chose, prepared it: thus I follow,— +With all my soul the final drink I swallow, +A solemn festal cup, a greeting to the morn! +[He sets the goblet to his mouth. +(Chime of bells and choral song.) + + +CHORUS OF ANGELS.32 +Christ is arisen! +Joy to the Mortal One, +Whom the unmerited, +Clinging, inherited +Needs did imprison. + + +FAUST. +What hollow humming, what a sharp, clear stroke, +Drives from my lip the goblet’s, at their meeting? +Announce the booming bells already woke +The first glad hour of Easter’s festal greeting? +Ye choirs, have ye begun the sweet, consoling chant, +Which, through the night of Death, the angels ministrant +Sang, God’s new Covenant repeating? + + +CHORUS OF WOMEN + + With spices and precious + Balm, we arrayed him; + Faithful and gracious, + We tenderly laid him: + Linen to bind him + Cleanlily wound we: + Ah! when we would find him, + Christ no more found we! + + +CHORUS OF ANGELS + + Christ is ascended! + Bliss hath invested him,— + Woes that molested him, + Trials that tested him, + Gloriously ended! + + +FAUST + +Why, here in dust, entice me with your spell, +Ye gentle, powerful sounds of Heaven? +Peal rather there, where tender natures dwell. +Your messages I hear, but faith has not been given; +The dearest child of Faith is Miracle. +I venture not to soar to yonder regions +Whence the glad tidings hither float; +And yet, from childhood up familiar with the note, +To Life it now renews the old allegiance. +Once Heavenly Love sent down a burning kiss +Upon my brow, in Sabbath silence holy; +And, filled with mystic presage, chimed the church-bell slowly, +And prayer dissolved me in a fervent bliss. +A sweet, uncomprehended yearning +Drove forth my feet through woods and meadows free, +And while a thousand tears were burning, +I felt a world arise for me. +These chants, to youth and all its sports appealing, +Proclaimed the Spring’s rejoicing holiday; +And Memory holds me now, with childish feeling, +Back from the last, the solemn way. +Sound on, ye hymns of Heaven, so sweet and mild! +My tears gush forth: the Earth takes back her child! + + +CHORUS OF DISCIPLES + + Has He, victoriously, + Burst from the vaulted + Grave, and all-gloriously + Now sits exalted? + Is He, in glow of birth, + Rapture creative near? + Ah! to the woe of earth + Still are we native here. + We, his aspiring + Followers, Him we miss; + Weeping, desiring, + Master, Thy bliss! + +CHORUS OF ANGELS + + Christ is arisen, + Out of Corruption’s womb: + Burst ye the prison, + Break from your gloom! + Praising and pleading him, + Lovingly needing him, + Brotherly feeding him, + Preaching and speeding him, + Blessing, succeeding Him, + Thus is the Master near,— + Thus is He here! +[Illustration] + + + + +II + + +BEFORE THE CITY-GATE + +(_Pedestrians of all kinds come forth_.) + + +SEVERAL APPRENTICES + +Why do you go that way? + + +OTHERS + +We’re for the Hunters’ lodge, to-day. + + +THE FIRST + +We’ll saunter to the Mill, in yonder hollow. + + +AN APPRENTICE + +Go to the River Tavern, I should say. + + +SECOND APPRENTICE + +But then, it’s not a pleasant way. + + +THE OTHERS + +And what will _you_? + +A THIRD + + As goes the crowd, I follow. + + +A FOURTH + +Come up to Burgdorf? There you’ll find good cheer, +The finest lasses and the best of beer, +And jolly rows and squabbles, trust me! + + +A FIFTH + +You swaggering fellow, is your hide +A third time itching to be tried? +I won’t go there, your jolly rows disgust me! + + +SERVANT-GIRL + +No,—no! I’ll turn and go to town again. + + +ANOTHER + +We’ll surely find him by those poplars yonder. + + +THE FIRST + +That’s no great luck for me, ’tis plain. +You’ll have him, when and where you wander: +His partner in the dance you’ll be,— +But what is all your fun to me? + + +THE OTHER + +He’s surely not alone to-day: +He’ll be with Curly-head, I heard him say. + + +A STUDENT + +Deuce! how they step, the buxom wenches! +Come, Brother! we must see them to the benches. +A strong, old beer, a pipe that stings and bites, +A girl in Sunday clothes,—these three are my delights. + + +CITIZEN’S DAUGHTER + +Just see those handsome fellows, there! +It’s really shameful, I declare;— +To follow servant-girls, when they +Might have the most genteel society to-day! + + +SECOND STUDENT (_to the First_) + +Not quite so fast! Two others come behind,— +Those, dressed so prettily and neatly. +My neighbor’s one of them, I find, +A girl that takes my heart, completely. +They go their way with looks demure, +But they’ll accept us, after all, I’m sure. + + +THE FIRST + +No, Brother! not for me their formal ways. +Quick! lest our game escape us in the press: +The hand that wields the broom on Saturdays +Will best, on Sundays, fondle and caress. + + +CITIZEN + +He suits me not at all, our new-made Burgomaster! +Since he’s installed, his arrogance grows faster. +How has he helped the town, I say? +Things worsen,—what improvement names he? +Obedience, more than ever, claims he, +And more than ever we must pay! + + +BEGGAR (_sings_) + + Good gentlemen and lovely ladies, + So red of cheek and fine of dress, + Behold, how needful here your aid is, + And see and lighten my distress! + Let me not vainly sing my ditty; + He’s only glad who gives away: + A holiday, that shows your pity, + Shall be for me a harvest-day! + + +ANOTHER CITIZEN + +On Sundays, holidays, there’s naught I take delight in, +Like gossiping of war, and war’s array, +When down in Turkey, far away, +The foreign people are a-fighting. +One at the window sits, with glass and friends, +And sees all sorts of ships go down the river gliding: +And blesses then, as home he wends +At night, our times of peace abiding. + + +THIRD CITIZEN + +Yes, Neighbor! that’s my notion, too: +Why, let them break their heads, let loose their passions, +And mix things madly through and through, +So, here, we keep our good old fashions! + + +OLD WOMAN (_to the Citizen’s Daughter_) + +Dear me, how fine! So handsome, and so young! +Who wouldn’t lose his heart, that met you? +Don’t be so proud! I’ll hold my tongue, +And what you’d like I’ll undertake to get you. + + +CITIZEN’S DAUGHTER + +Come, Agatha! I shun the witch’s sight +Before folks, lest there be misgiving: +’Tis true, she showed me, on Saint Andrew’s Night, +My future sweetheart, just as he were living. + + +THE OTHER + +She showed me mine, in crystal clear, +With several wild young blades, a soldier-lover: +I seek him everywhere, I pry and peer, +And yet, somehow, his face I can’t discover. + +SOLDIERS + + Castles, with lofty + Ramparts and towers, + Maidens disdainful + In Beauty’s array, + Both shall be ours! + Bold is the venture, + Splendid the pay! + Lads, let the trumpets + For us be suing,— + Calling to pleasure, + Calling to ruin. + Stormy our life is; + Such is its boon! + Maidens and castles + Capitulate soon. + Bold is the venture, + Splendid the pay! + And the soldiers go marching, + Marching away! + + +FAUST AND WAGNER + + +FAUST + +Released from ice are brook and river +By the quickening glance of the gracious Spring; +The colors of hope to the valley cling, +And weak old Winter himself must shiver, +Withdrawn to the mountains, a crownless king: +Whence, ever retreating, he sends again +Impotent showers of sleet that darkle +In belts across the green o’ the plain. +But the sun will permit no white to sparkle; +Everywhere form in development moveth; +He will brighten the world with the tints he loveth, +And, lacking blossoms, blue, yellow, and red, +He takes these gaudy people instead. +Turn thee about, and from this height +Back on the town direct thy sight. +Out of the hollow, gloomy gate, +The motley throngs come forth elate: +Each will the joy of the sunshine hoard, +To honor the Day of the Risen Lord! +They feel, themselves, their resurrection: +From the low, dark rooms, scarce habitable; +From the bonds of Work, from Trade’s restriction; +From the pressing weight of roof and gable; +From the narrow, crushing streets and alleys; +From the churches’ solemn and reverend night, +All come forth to the cheerful light. +How lively, see! the multitude sallies, +Scattering through gardens and fields remote, +While over the river, that broadly dallies, +Dances so many a festive boat; +And overladen, nigh to sinking, +The last full wherry takes the stream. +Yonder afar, from the hill-paths blinking, +Their clothes are colors that softly gleam. +I hear the noise of the village, even; +Here is the People’s proper Heaven; +Here high and low contented see! +Here I am Man,—dare man to be! + + +WAGNER + +To stroll with you, Sir Doctor, flatters; +’Tis honor, profit, unto me. +But I, alone, would shun these shallow matters, +Since all that’s coarse provokes my enmity. +This fiddling, shouting, ten-pin rolling +I hate,—these noises of the throng: +They rave, as Satan were their sports controlling. +And call it mirth, and call it song! + + +PEASANTS, UNDER THE LINDEN-TREE + (_Dance and Song_.) + + All for the dance the shepherd dressed, + In ribbons, wreath, and gayest vest + Himself with care arraying: + Around the linden lass and lad + Already footed it like mad: + Hurrah! hurrah! + Hurrah—tarara-la! + The fiddle-bow was playing. + + He broke the ranks, no whit afraid, + And with his elbow punched a maid, + Who stood, the dance surveying: + The buxom wench, she turned and said: + “Now, you I call a stupid-head!” + Hurrah! hurrah! + Hurrah—tarara-la! + “Be decent while you’re staying!” + + Then round the circle went their flight, + They danced to left, they danced to right: + Their kirtles all were playing. + They first grew red, and then grew warm, + And rested, panting, arm in arm,— + Hurrah! hurrah! + Hurrah—tarara-la! + And hips and elbows straying. + + Now, don’t be so familiar here! + How many a one has fooled his dear, + Waylaying and betraying! + + And yet, he coaxed her soon aside, + And round the linden sounded wide. + Hurrah! hurrah! + Hurrah—tarara-la! + And the fiddle-bow was playing. + +OLD PEASANT + +Sir Doctor, it is good of you, +That thus you condescend, to-day, +Among this crowd of merry folk, +A highly-learned man, to stray. +Then also take the finest can, +We fill with fresh wine, for your sake: +I offer it, and humbly wish +That not alone your thirst is slake,— +That, as the drops below its brink, +So many days of life you drink! + + +FAUST + +I take the cup you kindly reach, +With thanks and health to all and each. + +(_The People gather in a circle about him_.) + + +OLD PEASANT + +In truth, ’tis well and fitly timed, +That now our day of joy you share, +Who heretofore, in evil days, +Gave us so much of helping care. +Still many a man stands living here, +Saved by your father’s skillful hand, +That snatched him from the fever’s rage +And stayed the plague in all the land. +Then also you, though but a youth, +Went into every house of pain: +Many the corpses carried forth, +But you in health came out again. + +FAUST + +No test or trial you evaded: +A Helping God the helper aided. + +ALL + +Health to the man, so skilled and tried. +That for our help he long may abide! + +FAUST + +To Him above bow down, my friends, +Who teaches help, and succor sends! + +(_He goes on with_ WAGNER.) + +WAGNER + +With what a feeling, thou great man, must thou +Receive the people’s honest veneration! +How lucky he, whose gifts his station +With such advantages endow! +Thou’rt shown to all the younger generation: +Each asks, and presses near to gaze; +The fiddle stops, the dance delays. +Thou goest, they stand in rows to see, +And all the caps are lifted high; +A little more, and they would bend the knee +As if the Holy Host came by. + +FAUST + +A few more steps ascend, as far as yonder stone!— +Here from our wandering will we rest contented. +Here, lost in thought, I’ve lingered oft alone, +When foolish fasts and prayers my life tormented. +Here, rich in hope and firm in faith, +With tears, wrung hands and sighs, I’ve striven, +The end of that far-spreading death +Entreating from the Lord of Heaven! +Now like contempt the crowd’s applauses seem: +Couldst thou but read, within mine inmost spirit, +How little now I deem, +That sire or son such praises merit! +My father’s was a sombre, brooding brain, +Which through the holy spheres of Nature groped and wandered, +And honestly, in his own fashion, pondered +With labor whimsical, and pain: +Who, in his dusky work-shop bending, +With proved adepts in company, +Made, from his recipes unending, +Opposing substances agree. +There was a Lion red, a wooer daring, +Within the Lily’s tepid bath espoused, +And both, tormented then by flame unsparing, +By turns in either bridal chamber housed. +If then appeared, with colors splendid, +The young Queen in her crystal shell, +This was the medicine—the patients’ woes soon ended, +And none demanded: who got well? +Thus we, our hellish boluses compounding, +Among these vales and hills surrounding, +Worse than the pestilence, have passed. +Thousands were done to death from poison of my giving; +And I must hear, by all the living, +The shameless murderers praised at last! + +WAGNER + +Why, therefore, yield to such depression? +A good man does his honest share +In exercising, with the strictest care, +The art bequeathed to his possession! +Dost thou thy father honor, as a youth? +Then may his teaching cheerfully impel thee: +Dost thou, as man, increase the stores of truth? +Then may thine own son afterwards excel thee. + +FAUST + +O happy he, who still renews +The hope, from Error’s deeps to rise forever! +That which one does not know, one needs to use; +And what one knows, one uses never. +But let us not, by such despondence, so +The fortune of this hour embitter! +Mark how, beneath the evening sunlight’s glow, +The green-embosomed houses glitter! +The glow retreats, done is the day of toil; +It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring; +Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil, +Upon its track to follow, follow soaring! +Then would I see eternal Evening gild +The silent world beneath me glowing, +On fire each mountain-peak, with peace each valley filled, +The silver brook to golden rivers flowing. +The mountain-chain, with all its gorges deep, +Would then no more impede my godlike motion; +And now before mine eyes expands the ocean +With all its bays, in shining sleep! +Yet, finally, the weary god is sinking; +The new-born impulse fires my mind,— +I hasten on, his beams eternal drinking, +The Day before me and the Night behind, +Above me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath me,— +A glorious dream! though now the glories fade. +Alas! the wings that lift the mind no aid +Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me. +Yet in each soul is born the pleasure +Of yearning onward, upward and away, +When o’er our heads, lost in the vaulted azure, +The lark sends down his flickering lay,— +When over crags and piny highlands +The poising eagle slowly soars, +And over plains and lakes and islands +The crane sails by to other shores. + +WAGNER + +I’ve had, myself, at times, some odd caprices, +But never yet such impulse felt, as this is. +One soon fatigues, on woods and fields to look, +Nor would I beg the bird his wing to spare us: +How otherwise the mental raptures bear us +From page to page, from book to book! +Then winter nights take loveliness untold, +As warmer life in every limb had crowned you; +And when your hands unroll some parchment rare and old, +All Heaven descends, and opens bright around you! + +FAUST + +One impulse art thou conscious of, at best; +O, never seek to know the other! +Two souls, alas! reside within my breast, +And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother. +One with tenacious organs holds in love +And clinging lust the world in its embraces; +The other strongly sweeps, this dust above, +Into the high ancestral spaces. +If there be airy spirits near, +’Twixt Heaven and Earth on potent errands fleeing, +Let them drop down the golden atmosphere, +And bear me forth to new and varied being! +Yea, if a magic mantle once were mine, +To waft me o’er the world at pleasure, +I would not for the costliest stores of treasure— +Not for a monarch’s robe—the gift resign. + +WAGNER + +Invoke not thus the well-known throng, +Which through the firmament diffused is faring, +And danger thousand-fold, our race to wrong. +In every quarter is preparing. +Swift from the North the spirit-fangs so sharp +Sweep down, and with their barbéd points assail you; +Then from the East they come, to dry and warp +Your lungs, till breath and being fail you: +If from the Desert sendeth them the South, +With fire on fire your throbbing forehead crowning, +The West leads on a host, to cure the drouth +Only when meadow, field, and you are drowning. +They gladly hearken, prompt for injury,— +Gladly obey, because they gladly cheat us; +From Heaven they represent themselves to be, +And lisp like angels, when with lies they meet us. +But, let us go! ’Tis gray and dusky all: +The air is cold, the vapors fall. +At night, one learns his house to prize:— +Why stand you thus, with such astonished eyes? +What, in the twilight, can your mind so trouble? + +FAUST + +Seest thou the black dog coursing there, through corn and +stubble? + +WAGNER + +Long since: yet deemed him not important in the least. + +FAUST + +Inspect him close: for what tak’st thou the beast? + +WAGNER + +Why, for a poodle who has lost his master, +And scents about, his track to find. + +FAUST + +Seest thou the spiral circles, narrowing faster, +Which he, approaching, round us seems to wind? +A streaming trail of fire, if I see rightly, +Follows his path of mystery. + +WAGNER + +It may be that your eyes deceive you slightly; +Naught but a plain black poodle do I see. + +FAUST + +It seems to me that with enchanted cunning +He snares our feet, some future chain to bind. + +WAGNER + +I see him timidly, in doubt, around us running, +Since, in his master’s stead, two strangers doth he find. + +FAUST + +The circle narrows: he is near! + +WAGNER + +A dog thou seest, and not a phantom, here! +Behold him stop—upon his belly crawl—His +tail set wagging: canine habits, all! + +FAUST + +Come, follow us! Come here, at least! + +WAGNER + +’Tis the absurdest, drollest beast. +Stand still, and you will see him wait; +Address him, and he gambols straight; +If something’s lost, he’ll quickly bring it,— +Your cane, if in the stream you fling it. + +FAUST + +No doubt you’re right: no trace of mind, I own, +Is in the beast: I see but drill, alone. + +WAGNER + +The dog, when he’s well educated, +Is by the wisest tolerated. +Yes, he deserves your favor thoroughly,— +The clever scholar of the students, he! + +(_They pass in the city-gate_.) + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +III + + +THE STUDY + +FAUST + +(_Entering, with the poodle_.) + + Behind me, field and meadow sleeping, + I leave in deep, prophetic night, + Within whose dread and holy keeping + The better soul awakes to light. + The wild desires no longer win us, + The deeds of passion cease to chain; + The love of Man revives within us, + The love of God revives again. + +Be still, thou poodle; make not such racket and riot! +Why at the threshold wilt snuffing be? +Behind the stove repose thee in quiet! +My softest cushion I give to thee. +As thou, up yonder, with running and leaping +Amused us hast, on the mountain’s crest, + +So now I take thee into my keeping, +A welcome, but also a silent, guest. + + Ah, when, within our narrow chamber + The lamp with friendly lustre glows, + Flames in the breast each faded ember, + And in the heart, itself that knows. + Then Hope again lends sweet assistance, + And Reason then resumes her speech: + One yearns, the rivers of existence, + The very founts of Life, to reach. + +Snarl not, poodle! To the sound that rises, +The sacred tones that my soul embrace, +This bestial noise is out of place. +We are used to see, that Man despises +What he never comprehends, +And the Good and the Beautiful vilipends, +Finding them often hard to measure: +Will the dog, like man, snarl _his_ displeasure? + +But ah! I feel, though will thereto be stronger, +Contentment flows from out my breast no longer. +Why must the stream so soon run dry and fail us, +And burning thirst again assail us? +Therein I’ve borne so much probation! +And yet, this want may be supplied us; +We call the Supernatural to guide us; +We pine and thirst for Revelation, +Which nowhere worthier is, more nobly sent, +Than here, in our New Testament. +I feel impelled, its meaning to determine,— +With honest purpose, once for all, +The hallowed Original +To change to my beloved German. + +(_He opens a volume, and commences_.) +’Tis written: “In the Beginning was the _Word_.” +Here am I balked: who, now can help afford? +The _Word?_—impossible so high to rate it; +And otherwise must I translate it. +If by the Spirit I am truly taught. +Then thus: “In the Beginning was the _Thought_” +This first line let me weigh completely, +Lest my impatient pen proceed too fleetly. +Is it the _Thought_ which works, creates, indeed? +“In the Beginning was the _Power_,” I read. +Yet, as I write, a warning is suggested, +That I the sense may not have fairly tested. +The Spirit aids me: now I see the light! +“In the Beginning was the _Act_,” I write. + +If I must share my chamber with thee, +Poodle, stop that howling, prithee! +Cease to bark and bellow! +Such a noisy, disturbing fellow +I’ll no longer suffer near me. +One of us, dost hear me! +Must leave, I fear me. +No longer guest-right I bestow; +The door is open, art free to go. +But what do I see in the creature? +Is that in the course of nature? +Is’t actual fact? or Fancy’s shows? +How long and broad my poodle grows! +He rises mightily: +A canine form that cannot be! +What a spectre I’ve harbored thus! +He resembles a hippopotamus, +With fiery eyes, teeth terrible to see: +O, now am I sure of thee! +For all of thy half-hellish brood +The Key of Solomon is good. + +SPIRITS (_in the corridor_) + + Some one, within, is caught! + Stay without, follow him not! + Like the fox in a snare, + Quakes the old hell-lynx there. + Take heed—look about! + Back and forth hover, + Under and over, + And he’ll work himself out. + If your aid avail him, + Let it not fail him; + For he, without measure, + Has wrought for our pleasure. + +FAUST + +First, to encounter the beast, +The Words of the Four be addressed: + Salamander, shine glorious! + Wave, Undine, as bidden! + Sylph, be thou hidden! + Gnome, be laborious! + +Who knows not their sense +(These elements),— +Their properties +And power not sees,— +No mastery he inherits +Over the Spirits. + + Vanish in flaming ether, + Salamander! + Flow foamingly together, + Undine! + Shine in meteor-sheen, + Sylph! + Bring help to hearth and shelf. + Incubus! Incubus! + Step forward, and finish thus! + +Of the Four, no feature +Lurks in the creature. +Quiet he lies, and grins disdain: +Not yet, it seems, have I given him pain. +Now, to undisguise thee, +Hear me exorcise thee! +Art thou, my gay one, +Hell’s fugitive stray-one? +The sign witness now, +Before which they bow, +The cohorts of Hell! + +With hair all bristling, it begins to swell. + + Base Being, hearest thou? + Knowest and fearest thou + The One, unoriginate, + Named inexpressibly, + Through all Heaven impermeate, + Pierced irredressibly! + +Behind the stove still banned, +See it, an elephant, expand! +It fills the space entire, +Mist-like melting, ever faster. +’Tis enough: ascend no higher,— +Lay thyself at the feet of the Master! +Thou seest, not vain the threats I bring thee: +With holy fire I’ll scorch and sting thee! +Wait not to know +The threefold dazzling glow! +Wait not to know +The strongest art within my hands! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +(_while the vapor is dissipating, steps forth from behind the +stove, in the costume of a Travelling Scholar_.) +Why such a noise? What are my lord’s commands? + +FAUST + +This was the poodle’s real core, +A travelling scholar, then? The _casus_ is diverting. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +The learned gentleman I bow before: +You’ve made me roundly sweat, that’s certain! + +FAUST + +What is thy name? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +A question small, it seems, +For one whose mind the Word so much despises; +Who, scorning all external gleams, +The depths of being only prizes. + +FAUST + +With all you gentlemen, the name’s a test, +Whereby the nature usually is expressed. +Clearly the latter it implies +In names like Beelzebub, Destroyer, Father of Lies. +Who art thou, then? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Part of that Power, not understood, +Which always wills the Bad, and always works the Good. + +FAUST + +What hidden sense in this enigma lies? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I am the Spirit that Denies! +And justly so: for all things, from the Void +Called forth, deserve to be destroyed: +’Twere better, then, were naught created. +Thus, all which you as Sin have rated,— +Destruction,—aught with Evil blent,— +That is my proper element. + +FAUST + +Thou nam’st thyself a part, yet show’st complete to me? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +The modest truth I speak to thee. +If Man, that microcosmic fool, can see +Himself a whole so frequently, +Part of the Part am I, once All, in primal Night,— +Part of the Darkness which brought forth the Light, +The haughty Light, which now disputes the space, +And claims of Mother Night her ancient place. +And yet, the struggle fails; since Light, howe’er it weaves, +Still, fettered, unto bodies cleaves: +It flows from bodies, bodies beautifies; +By bodies is its course impeded; +And so, but little time is needed, +I hope, ere, as the bodies die, it dies! + +FAUST + +I see the plan thou art pursuing: +Thou canst not compass general ruin, +And hast on smaller scale begun. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +And truly ’tis not much, when all is done. +That which to Naught is in resistance set,— +The Something of this clumsy world,—has yet, +With all that I have undertaken, +Not been by me disturbed or shaken: +From earthquake, tempest, wave, volcano’s brand, +Back into quiet settle sea and land! +And that damned stuff, the bestial, human brood,— +What use, in having that to play with? +How many have I made away with! +And ever circulates a newer, fresher blood. +It makes me furious, such things beholding: +From Water, Earth, and Air unfolding, +A thousand germs break forth and grow, +In dry, and wet, and warm, and chilly; +And had I not the Flame reserved, why, really, +There’s nothing special of my own to show! + +FAUST + +So, to the actively eternal +Creative force, in cold disdain +You now oppose the fist infernal, +Whose wicked clench is all in vain! +Some other labor seek thou rather, +Queer Son of Chaos, to begin! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Well, we’ll consider: thou canst gather +My views, when next I venture in. +Might I, perhaps, depart at present? + +FAUST + +Why thou shouldst ask, I don’t perceive. +Though our acquaintance is so recent, +For further visits thou hast leave. +The window’s here, the door is yonder; +A chimney, also, you behold. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I must confess that forth I may not wander, +My steps by one slight obstacle controlled,— +The wizard’s-foot, that on your threshold made is. + +FAUST + +The pentagram prohibits thee? +Why, tell me now, thou Son of Hades, +If that prevents, how cam’st thou in to me? +Could such a spirit be so cheated? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Inspect the thing: the drawing’s not completed. +The outer angle, you may see, +Is open left—the lines don’t fit it. + +FAUST + +Well,—Chance, this time, has fairly hit it! +And thus, thou’rt prisoner to me? +It seems the business has succeeded. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +The poodle naught remarked, as after thee he speeded; +But other aspects now obtain: +The Devil can’t get out again. + +FAUST + +Try, then, the open window-pane! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +For Devils and for spectres this is law: +Where they have entered in, there also they withdraw. +The first is free to us; we’re governed by the second. + +FAUST + +In Hell itself, then, laws are reckoned? +That’s well! So might a compact be +Made with you gentlemen—and binding,—surely? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +All that is promised shall delight thee purely; +No skinflint bargain shalt thou see. +But this is not of swift conclusion; +We’ll talk about the matter soon. +And now, I do entreat this boon— +Leave to withdraw from my intrusion. + +FAUST + +One moment more I ask thee to remain, +Some pleasant news, at least, to tell me. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Release me, now! I soon shall come again; +Then thou, at will, mayst question and compel me. + +FAUST + +I have not snares around thee cast; +Thyself hast led thyself into the meshes. +Who traps the Devil, hold him fast! +Not soon a second time he’ll catch a prey so precious. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +An’t please thee, also I’m content to stay, +And serve thee in a social station; +But stipulating, that I may +With arts of mine afford thee recreation. + +FAUST + +Thereto I willingly agree, +If the diversion pleasant be. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +My friend, thou’lt win, past all pretences, +More in this hour to soothe thy senses, +Than in the year’s monotony. +That which the dainty spirits sing thee, +The lovely pictures they shall bring thee, +Are more than magic’s empty show. +Thy scent will be to bliss invited; +Thy palate then with taste delighted, +Thy nerves of touch ecstatic glow! +All unprepared, the charm I spin: +We’re here together, so begin! + +SPIRITS + + Vanish, ye darking + Arches above him! + Loveliest weather, + Born of blue ether, + Break from the sky! + O that the darkling + Clouds had departed! + Starlight is sparkling, + Tranquiller-hearted + Suns are on high. + Heaven’s own children + In beauty bewildering, + Waveringly bending, + Pass as they hover; + Longing unending + Follows them over. + They, with their glowing + Garments, out-flowing, + Cover, in going, + Landscape and bower, + Where, in seclusion, + Lovers are plighted, + Lost in illusion. + Bower on bower! + Tendrils unblighted! + Lo! in a shower + Grapes that o’ercluster + Gush into must, or + Flow into rivers + Of foaming and flashing + Wine, that is dashing + Gems, as it boundeth + Down the high places, + And spreading, surroundeth + With crystalline spaces, + In happy embraces, + Blossoming forelands, + Emerald shore-lands! + And the winged races + Drink, and fly onward— + Fly ever sunward + To the enticing + Islands, that flatter, + Dipping and rising + Light on the water! + Hark, the inspiring + Sound of their quiring! + See, the entrancing + Whirl of their dancing! + All in the air are + Freer and fairer. + Some of them scaling + Boldly the highlands, + Others are sailing, + Circling the islands; + Others are flying; + Life-ward all hieing,— + All for the distant + Star of existent + Rapture and Love! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +He sleeps! Enough, ye fays! your airy number +Have sung him truly into slumber: +For this performance I your debtor prove.— +Not yet art thou the man, to catch the Fiend and hold him!— +With fairest images of dreams infold him, +Plunge him in seas of sweet untruth! +Yet, for the threshold’s magic which controlled him, +The Devil needs a rat’s quick tooth. +I use no lengthened invocation: +Here rustles one that soon will work my liberation. + +The lord of rats and eke of mice, +Of flies and bed-bugs, frogs and lice, +Summons thee hither to the door-sill, +To gnaw it where, with just a morsel +Of oil, he paints the spot for thee:— +There com’st thou, hopping on to me! +To work, at once! The point which made me craven +Is forward, on the ledge, engraven. +Another bite makes free the door: +So, dream thy dreams, O Faust, until we meet once more! + +FAUST _(awaking)_ + +Am I again so foully cheated? +Remains there naught of lofty spirit-sway, +But that a dream the Devil counterfeited, +And that a poodle ran away? + +[Illustration] + + + + +IV + + +THE STUDY + +FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES + +FAUST + +A knock? Come in! Again my quiet broken? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +’Tis I! + +FAUST + + Come in! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + + Thrice must the words be spoken. + +FAUST + +Come in, then! + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + + Thus thou pleasest me. +I hope we’ll suit each other well; +For now, thy vapors to dispel, +I come, a squire of high degree, +In scarlet coat, with golden trimming, +A cloak in silken lustre swimming, +A tall cock’s-feather in my hat, +A long, sharp sword for show or quarrel,— +And I advise thee, brief and flat, +To don the self-same gay apparel, +That, from this den released, and free, +Life be at last revealed to thee! + +FAUST + +This life of earth, whatever my attire, +Would pain me in its wonted fashion. +Too old am I to play with passion; +Too young, to be without desire. +What from the world have I to gain? +Thou shalt abstain—renounce—refrain! +Such is the everlasting song +That in the ears of all men rings,— +That unrelieved, our whole life long, +Each hour, in passing, hoarsely sings. +In very terror I at morn awake, +Upon the verge of bitter weeping, +To see the day of disappointment break, +To no one hope of mine—not one—its promise keeping:— +That even each joy’s presentiment +With wilful cavil would diminish, +With grinning masks of life prevent +My mind its fairest work to finish! +Then, too, when night descends, how anxiously +Upon my couch of sleep I lay me: +There, also, comes no rest to me, +But some wild dream is sent to fray me. +The God that in my breast is owned +Can deeply stir the inner sources; +The God, above my powers enthroned, +He cannot change external forces. +So, by the burden of my days oppressed, +Death is desired, and Life a thing unblest! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +And yet is never Death a wholly welcome guest. + +FAUST + +O fortunate, for whom, when victory glances, +The bloody laurels on the brow he bindeth! +Whom, after rapid, maddening dances, +In clasping maiden-arms he findeth! +O would that I, before that spirit-power, +Ravished and rapt from life, had sunken! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +And yet, by some one, in that nightly hour, +A certain liquid was not drunken. + +FAUST + +Eavesdropping, ha! thy pleasure seems to be. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Omniscient am I not; yet much is known to me. + +FAUST + +Though some familiar tone, retrieving +My thoughts from torment, led me on, +And sweet, clear echoes came, deceiving +A faith bequeathed from Childhood’s dawn, +Yet now I curse whate’er entices +And snares the soul with visions vain; +With dazzling cheats and dear devices +Confines it in this cave of pain! +Cursed be, at once, the high ambition +Wherewith the mind itself deludes! +Cursed be the glare of apparition +That on the finer sense intrudes! +Cursed be the lying dream’s impression +Of name, and fame, and laurelled brow! +Cursed, all that flatters as possession, +As wife and child, as knave and plow! +Cursed Mammon be, when he with treasures +To restless action spurs our fate! +Cursed when, for soft, indulgent leisures, +He lays for us the pillows straight! +Cursed be the vine’s transcendent nectar,— +The highest favor Love lets fall! +Cursed, also, Hope!—cursed Faith, the spectre! +And cursed be Patience most of all! + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS (_invisible_) + + Woe! woe! + Thou hast it destroyed, + The beautiful world, + With powerful fist: + In ruin ’tis hurled, + By the blow of a demigod shattered! + The scattered + Fragments into the Void we carry, + Deploring + The beauty perished beyond restoring. + Mightier + For the children of men, + Brightlier + Build it again, + In thine own bosom build it anew! + Bid the new career + Commence, + With clearer sense, + And the new songs of cheer + Be sung thereto! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +These are the small dependants +Who give me attendance. +Hear them, to deeds and passion +Counsel in shrewd old-fashion! +Into the world of strife, +Out of this lonely life +That of senses and sap has betrayed thee, +They would persuade thee. +This nursing of the pain forego thee, +That, like a vulture, feeds upon thy breast! +The worst society thou find’st will show thee +Thou art a man among the rest. +But ’tis not meant to thrust +Thee into the mob thou hatest! +I am not one of the greatest, +Yet, wilt thou to me entrust +Thy steps through life, I’ll guide thee,— +Will willingly walk beside thee,— +Will serve thee at once and forever +With best endeavor, +And, if thou art satisfied, +Will as servant, slave, with thee abide. + +FAUST + +And what shall be my counter-service therefor? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +The time is long: thou need’st not now insist. + +FAUST + +No—no! The Devil is an egotist, +And is not apt, without a why or wherefore, +“For God’s sake,” others to assist. +Speak thy conditions plain and clear! +With such a servant danger comes, I fear. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +_Here_, an unwearied slave, I’ll wear thy tether, +And to thine every nod obedient be: +When _There_ again we come together, +Then shalt thou do the same for me. + +FAUST + +The _There_ my scruples naught increases. +When thou hast dashed this world to pieces, +The other, then, its place may fill. +Here, on this earth, my pleasures have their sources; +Yon sun beholds my sorrows in his courses; +And when from these my life itself divorces, +Let happen all that can or will! +I’ll hear no more: ’tis vain to ponder +If there we cherish love or hate, +Or, in the spheres we dream of yonder, +A High and Low our souls await. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +In this sense, even, canst thou venture. +Come, bind thyself by prompt indenture, +And thou mine arts with joy shalt see: +What no man ever saw, I’ll give to thee. + +FAUST + +Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever? +When was a human soul, in its supreme endeavor, +E’er understood by such as thou? +Yet, hast thou food which never satiates, now,— +The restless, ruddy gold hast thou, +That runs, quicksilver-like, one’s fingers through,— +A game whose winnings no man ever knew,— +A maid that, even from my breast, +Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances, +And Honor’s godlike zest, +The meteor that a moment dances,— +Show me the fruits that, ere they’re gathered, rot, +And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Such a demand alarms me not: +Such treasures have I, and can show them. +But still the time may reach us, good my friend. +When peace we crave and more luxurious diet. + +FAUST + +When on an idler’s bed I stretch myself in quiet. +There let, at once, my record end! +Canst thou with lying flattery rule me, +Until, self-pleased, myself I see,— +Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me, +Let that day be the last for me! +The bet I offer. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + Done! + +FAUST + And heartily! +When thus I hail the Moment flying: +“Ah, still delay—thou art so fair!” +Then bind me in thy bonds undying, +My final ruin then declare! +Then let the death-bell chime the token. +Then art thou from thy service free! +The clock may stop, the hand be broken, +Then Time be finished unto me! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Consider well: my memory good is rated. + +FAUST + +Thou hast a perfect right thereto. +My powers I have not rashly estimated: +A slave am I, whate’er I do— +If thine, or whose? ’tis needless to debate it. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Then at the Doctors’-banquet I, to-day, +Will as a servant wait behind thee. +But one thing more! Beyond all risk to bind thee, +Give me a line or two, I pray. + +FAUST + +Demand’st thou, Pedant, too, a document? +Hast never known a man, nor proved his word’s intent? +Is’t not enough, that what I speak to-day +Shall stand, with all my future days agreeing? +In all its tides sweeps not the world away, +And shall a promise bind my being? +Yet this delusion in our hearts we bear: +Who would himself therefrom deliver? +Blest he, whose bosom Truth makes pure and fair! +No sacrifice shall he repent of ever. +Nathless a parchment, writ and stamped with care, +A spectre is, which all to shun endeavor. +The word, alas! dies even in the pen, +And wax and leather keep the lordship then. +What wilt from me, Base Spirit, say?— +Brass, marble, parchment, paper, clay? +The terms with graver, quill, or chisel, stated? +I freely leave the choice to thee. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Why heat thyself, thus instantly, +With eloquence exaggerated? +Each leaf for such a pact is good; +And to subscribe thy name thou’lt take a drop of blood. + +FAUST + +If thou therewith art fully satisfied, +So let us by the farce abide. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Blood is a juice of rarest quality. + +FAUST + +Fear not that I this pact shall seek to sever? +The promise that I make to thee +Is just the sum of my endeavor. +I have myself inflated all too high; +My proper place is thy estate: +The Mighty Spirit deigns me no reply, +And Nature shuts on me her gate. +The thread of Thought at last is broken, +And knowledge brings disgust unspoken. +Let us the sensual deeps explore, +To quench the fervors of glowing passion! +Let every marvel take form and fashion +Through the impervious veil it wore! +Plunge we in Time’s tumultuous dance, +In the rush and roll of Circumstance! +Then may delight and distress, +And worry and success, +Alternately follow, as best they can: +Restless activity proves the man! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +For you no bound, no term is set. +Whether you everywhere be trying, +Or snatch a rapid bliss in flying, +May it agree with you, what you get! +Only fall to, and show no timid balking. + +FAUST + +But thou hast heard, ’tis not of joy we’re talking. +I take the wildering whirl, enjoyment’s keenest pain, +Enamored hate, exhilarant disdain. +My bosom, of its thirst for knowledge sated, +Shall not, henceforth, from any pang be wrested, +And all of life for all mankind created +Shall be within mine inmost being tested: +The highest, lowest forms my soul shall borrow, +Shall heap upon itself their bliss and sorrow, +And thus, my own sole self to all their selves expanded, +I too, at last, shall with them all be stranded! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Believe me, who for many a thousand year +The same tough meat have chewed and tested, +That from the cradle to the bier +No man the ancient leaven has digested! +Trust one of us, this Whole supernal +Is made but for a God’s delight! +_He_ dwells in splendor single and eternal, +But _us_ he thrusts in darkness, out of sight, +And _you_ he dowers with Day and Night. + +FAUST + +Nay, but I will! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +A good reply! +One only fear still needs repeating: +The art is long, the time is fleeting. +Then let thyself be taught, say I! +Go, league thyself with a poet, +Give the rein to his imagination, +Then wear the crown, and show it, +Of the qualities of his creation,— +The courage of the lion’s breed, +The wild stag’s speed, +The Italian’s fiery blood, +The North’s firm fortitude! +Let him find for thee the secret tether +That binds the Noble and Mean together. +And teach thy pulses of youth and pleasure +To love by rule, and hate by measure! +I’d like, myself, such a one to see: +Sir Microcosm his name should be. + +FAUST + +What am I, then, if ’tis denied my part +The crown of all humanity to win me, +Whereto yearns every sense within me? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Why, on the whole, thou’rt—what thou art. +Set wigs of million curls upon thy head, to raise thee, +Wear shoes an ell in height,—the truth betrays thee, +And thou remainest—what thou art. + +FAUST + +I feel, indeed, that I have made the treasure +Of human thought and knowledge mine, in vain; +And if I now sit down in restful leisure, +No fount of newer strength is in my brain: +I am no hair’s-breadth more in height, +Nor nearer, to the Infinite, + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Good Sir, you see the facts precisely +As they are seen by each and all. +We must arrange them now, more wisely, +Before the joys of life shall pall. +Why, Zounds! Both hands and feet are, truly— +And head and virile forces—thine: +Yet all that I indulge in newly, +Is’t thence less wholly mine? +If I’ve six stallions in my stall, +Are not their forces also lent me? +I speed along, completest man of all, +As though my legs were four-and-twenty. +Take hold, then! let reflection rest, +And plunge into the world with zest! +I say to thee, a speculative wight +Is like a beast on moorlands lean, +That round and round some fiend misleads to evil plight, +While all about lie pastures fresh and green. + +FAUST + +Then how shall we begin? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +We’ll try a wider sphere. +What place of martyrdom is here! +Is’t life, I ask, is’t even prudence, +To bore thyself and bore the students? +Let Neighbor Paunch to that attend! +Why plague thyself with threshing straw forever? +The best thou learnest, in the end +Thou dar’st not tell the youngsters—never! +I hear one’s footsteps, hither steering. + +FAUST +To see him now I have no heart. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +So long the poor boy waits a hearing, +He must not unconsoled depart. +Thy cap and mantle straightway lend me! +I’ll play the comedy with art. + +(_He disguises himself_.) + +My wits, be certain, will befriend me. +But fifteen minutes’ time is all I need; +For our fine trip, meanwhile, prepare thyself with speed! + +[_Exit_ FAUST. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +(_In_ FAUST’S _long mantle_.) + +Reason and Knowledge only thou despise, +The highest strength in man that lies! +Let but the Lying Spirit bind thee +With magic works and shows that blind thee, +And I shall have thee fast and sure!— +Fate such a bold, untrammelled spirit gave him, +As forwards, onwards, ever must endure; +Whose over-hasty impulse drave him +Past earthly joys he might secure. +Dragged through the wildest life, will I enslave him, +Through flat and stale indifference; +With struggling, chilling, checking, so deprave him +That, to his hot, insatiate sense, +The dream of drink shall mock, but never lave him: +Refreshment shall his lips in vain implore— +Had he not made himself the Devil’s, naught could save +him, +Still were he lost forevermore! + +(_A_ STUDENT _enters_.) + +STUDENT + +A short time, only, am I here, +And come, devoted and sincere, +To greet and know the man of fame, +Whom men to me with reverence name. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Your courtesy doth flatter me: +You see a man, as others be. +Have you, perchance, elsewhere begun? + +STUDENT + +Receive me now, I pray, as one +Who comes to you with courage good, +Somewhat of cash, and healthy blood: +My mother was hardly willing to let me; +But knowledge worth having I fain would get me. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Then you have reached the right place now. + +STUDENT + +I’d like to leave it, I must avow; +I find these walls, these vaulted spaces +Are anything but pleasant places. +Tis all so cramped and close and mean; +One sees no tree, no glimpse of green, +And when the lecture-halls receive me, +Seeing, hearing, and thinking leave me. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +All that depends on habitude. +So from its mother’s breasts a child +At first, reluctant, takes its food, +But soon to seek them is beguiled. +Thus, at the breasts of Wisdom clinging, +Thou’lt find each day a greater rapture bringing. + +STUDENT + +I’ll hang thereon with joy, and freely drain them; +But tell me, pray, the proper means to gain them. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Explain, before you further speak, +The special faculty you seek. + +STUDENT + +I crave the highest erudition; +And fain would make my acquisition +All that there is in Earth and Heaven, +In Nature and in Science too. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Here is the genuine path for you; +Yet strict attention must be given. + +STUDENT + +Body and soul thereon I’ll wreak; +Yet, truly, I’ve some inclination +On summer holidays to seek +A little freedom and recreation. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Use well your time! It flies so swiftly from us; +But time through order may be won, I promise. +So, Friend (my views to briefly sum), +First, the _collegium logicum_. +There will your mind be drilled and braced, +As if in Spanish boots ’twere laced, +And thus, to graver paces brought, +’Twill plod along the path of thought, +Instead of shooting here and there, +A will-o’-the-wisp in murky air. +Days will be spent to bid you know, +What once you did at a single blow, +Like eating and drinking, free and strong,— +That one, two, three! thereto belong. +Truly the fabric of mental fleece +Resembles a weaver’s masterpiece, +Where a thousand threads one treadle throws, +Where fly the shuttles hither and thither. +Unseen the threads are knit together. +And an infinite combination grows. +Then, the philosopher steps in +And shows, no otherwise it could have been: +The first was so, the second so, +Therefore the third and fourth are so; +Were not the first and second, then +The third and fourth had never been. +The scholars are everywhere believers, +But never succeed in being weavers. +He who would study organic existence, +First drives out the soul with rigid persistence; +Then the parts in his hand he may hold and class, +But the spiritual link is lost, alas! +_Encheiresin natures_, this Chemistry names, +Nor knows how herself she banters and blames! + +STUDENT + +I cannot understand you quite. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Your mind will shortly be set aright, +When you have learned, all things reducing, +To classify them for your using. + +STUDENT + +I feel as stupid, from all you’ve said, +As if a mill-wheel whirled in my head! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +And after—first and foremost duty—Of +Metaphysics learn the use and beauty! +See that you most profoundly gain +What does not suit the human brain! +A splendid word to serve, you’ll find +For what goes in—or won’t go in—your mind. +But first, at least this half a year, +To order rigidly adhere; +Five hours a day, you understand, +And when the clock strikes, be on hand! +Prepare beforehand for your part +With paragraphs all got by heart, +So you can better watch, and look +That naught is said but what is in the book: +Yet in thy writing as unwearied be, +As did the Holy Ghost dictate to thee! + +STUDENT + +No need to tell me twice to do it! +I think, how useful ’tis to write; +For what one has, in black and white, +One carries home and then goes through it. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Yet choose thyself a faculty! + +STUDENT + +I cannot reconcile myself to Jurisprudence. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Nor can I therefore greatly blame you students: +I know what science this has come to be. +All rights and laws are still transmitted +Like an eternal sickness of the race,— +From generation unto generation fitted, +And shifted round from place to place. +Reason becomes a sham, Beneficence a worry: +Thou art a grandchild, therefore woe to thee! +The right born with us, ours in verity, +This to consider, there’s, alas! no hurry. + +STUDENT + +My own disgust is strengthened by your speech: +O lucky he, whom you shall teach! +I’ve almost for Theology decided. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I should not wish to see you here misguided: +For, as regards this science, let me hint +’Tis very hard to shun the false direction; +There’s so much secret poison lurking in ’t, +So like the medicine, it baffles your detection. +Hear, therefore, one alone, for that is best, in sooth, +And simply take your master’s words for truth. +On _words_ let your attention centre! +Then through the safest gate you’ll enter +The temple-halls of Certainty. + +STUDENT + +Yet in the word must some idea be. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Of course! But only shun too over-sharp a tension, +For just where fails the comprehension, +A word steps promptly in as deputy. +With words ’tis excellent disputing; +Systems to words ’tis easy suiting; +On words ’tis excellent believing; +No word can ever lose a jot from thieving. + +STUDENT + +Pardon! With many questions I detain you. +Yet must I trouble you again. +Of Medicine I still would fain +Hear one strong word that might explain you. +Three years is but a little space. +And, God! who can the field embrace? +If one some index could be shown, +’Twere easier groping forward, truly. + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_) + +I’m tired enough of this dry tone,— +Must play the Devil again, and fully. + +(_Aloud_) + +To grasp the spirit of Medicine is easy: +Learn of the great and little world your fill, +To let it go at last, so please ye, +Just as God will! +In vain that through the realms of science you may drift; +Each one learns only—just what learn he can: +Yet he who grasps the Moment’s gift, +He is the proper man. +Well-made you are, ’tis not to be denied, +The rest a bold address will win you; +If you but in yourself confide, +At once confide all others in you. +To lead the women, learn the special feeling! +Their everlasting aches and groans, +In thousand tones, +Have all one source, one mode of healing; +And if your acts are half discreet, +You’ll always have them at your feet. +A title first must draw and interest them, +And show that yours all other arts exceeds; +Then, as a greeting, you are free to touch and test them, +While, thus to do, for years another pleads. +You press and count the pulse’s dances, +And then, with burning sidelong glances, +You clasp the swelling hips, to see +If tightly laced her corsets be. + +STUDENT + +That’s better, now! The How and Where, one sees. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +My worthy friend, gray are all theories, +And green alone Life’s golden tree. + +STUDENT + +I swear to you, ’tis like a dream to me. +Might I again presume, with trust unbounded, +To hear your wisdom thoroughly expounded? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Most willingly, to what extent I may. + +STUDENT + +I cannot really go away: +Allow me that my album first I reach you,— +Grant me this favor, I beseech you! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Assuredly. + +(_He writes, and returns the book_.) + +STUDENT (_reads_) + +_Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum_. +(_Closes the book with reverence, and withdraws_) + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Follow the ancient text, and the snake thou wast ordered to trample! +With all thy likeness to God, thou’lt yet be a sorry example! + +(FAUST _enters_.) + +FAUST + +Now, whither shall we go? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +As best it pleases thee. +The little world, and then the great, we’ll see. +With what delight, what profit winning, +Shalt thou sponge through the term beginning! + +FAUST + +Yet with the flowing beard I wear, +Both ease and grace will fail me there. +The attempt, indeed, were a futile strife; +I never could learn the ways of life. +I feel so small before others, and thence +Should always find embarrassments. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +My friend, thou soon shalt lose all such misgiving: +Be thou but self-possessed, thou hast the art of living! + +FAUST + +How shall we leave the house, and start? +Where hast thou servant, coach and horses? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +We’ll spread this cloak with proper art, +Then through the air direct our courses. +But only, on so bold a flight, +Be sure to have thy luggage light. +A little burning air, which I shall soon prepare us, +Above the earth will nimbly bear us, +And, if we’re light, we’ll travel swift and clear: +I gratulate thee on thy new career! + +[Illustration] + + + + +V + + +AUERBACH’S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG +CAROUSAL OF JOLLY COMPANIONS + +FROSCH + +Is no one laughing? no one drinking? +I’ll teach you how to grin, I’m thinking. +To-day you’re like wet straw, so tame; +And usually you’re all aflame. + +BRANDER + +Now that’s your fault; from you we nothing see, +No beastliness and no stupidity. + +FROSCH + +(_Pours a glass of wine over_ BRANDER’S _head_.) +There’s both together! + +BRANDER + +Twice a swine! + +FROSCH + +You wanted them: I’ve given you mine. + +SIEBEL + +Turn out who quarrels—out the door! +With open throat sing chorus, drink and roar! +Up! holla! ho! + +ALTMAYER + +Woe’s me, the fearful bellow! +Bring cotton, quick! He’s split my ears, that fellow. + +SIEBEL + +When the vault echoes to the song, +One first perceives the bass is deep and strong. + +FROSCH + +Well said! and out with him that takes the least offence! +_Ah, tara, lara da_! + +ALTMAYER + +_Ah, tara, lara, da_! + +FROSCH + +The throats are tuned, commence! +(_Sings_.) +_The dear old holy Roman realm, +How does it hold together_? + +BRANDER + +A nasty song! Fie! a political song— +A most offensive song! Thank God, each morning, therefore, +That you have not the Roman realm to care for! +At least, I hold it so much gain for me, +That I nor Chancellor nor Kaiser be. +Yet also we must have a ruling head, I hope, +And so we’ll choose ourselves a Pope. +You know the quality that can +Decide the choice, and elevate the man. + +FROSCH (_sings_) + + _Soar up, soar up, Dame Nightingale! + Ten thousand times my sweetheart hail!_ + +SIEBEL + +No, greet my sweetheart not! I tell you, I’ll resent it. + +FROSCH + +My sweetheart greet and kiss! I dare you to prevent it! + + (_Sings_.) + + _Draw the latch! the darkness makes: + Draw the latch! the lover wakes. + Shut the latch! the morning breaks_. + +SIEBEL + +Yes, sing away, sing on, and praise, and brag of her! +I’ll wait my proper time for laughter: +Me by the nose she led, and now she’ll lead you after. +Her paramour should be an ugly gnome, +Where four roads cross, in wanton play to meet her: +An old he-goat, from Blocksberg coming home, +Should his good-night in lustful gallop bleat her! +A fellow made of genuine flesh and blood +Is for the wench a deal too good. +Greet her? Not I: unless, when meeting, +To smash her windows be a greeting! + +BRANDER (_pounding on the table_) + +Attention! Hearken now to me! +Confess, Sirs, I know how to live. +Enamored persons here have we, +And I, as suits their quality, +Must something fresh for their advantage give. +Take heed! ’Tis of the latest cut, my strain, +And all strike in at each refrain! + + (_He sings_.) + + There was a rat in the cellar-nest, + Whom fat and butter made smoother: + He had a paunch beneath his vest + Like that of Doctor Luther. + The cook laid poison cunningly, + And then as sore oppressed was he + As if he had love in his bosom. + + CHORUS (_shouting_) + + As if he had love in his bosom! + + BRANDER + + He ran around, he ran about, + His thirst in puddles laving; + He gnawed and scratched the house throughout. + But nothing cured his raving. + He whirled and jumped, with torment mad, + And soon enough the poor beast had, + As if he had love in his bosom. + + CHORUS + + As if he had love in his bosom! + + BRANDER + + And driven at last, in open day, + He ran into the kitchen, + Fell on the hearth, and squirming lay, + In the last convulsion twitching. + Then laughed the murderess in her glee: + “Ha! ha! he’s at his last gasp,” said she, + “As if he had love in his bosom!” + +CHORUS + + As if he had love in his bosom! + +SIEBEL + +How the dull fools enjoy the matter! +To me it is a proper art +Poison for such poor rats to scatter. + +BRANDER + +Perhaps you’ll warmly take their part? + +ALTMAYER + +The bald-pate pot-belly I have noted: +Misfortune tames him by degrees; +For in the rat by poison bloated +His own most natural form he sees. + +FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Before all else, I bring thee hither +Where boon companions meet together, +To let thee see how smooth life runs away. +Here, for the folk, each day’s a holiday: +With little wit, and ease to suit them, +They whirl in narrow, circling trails, +Like kittens playing with their tails? +And if no headache persecute them, +So long the host may credit give, +They merrily and careless live. + +BRANDER + +The fact is easy to unravel, +Their air’s so odd, they’ve just returned from travel: +A single hour they’ve not been here. + +FROSCH + +You’ve verily hit the truth! Leipzig to me is dear: +Paris in miniature, how it refines its people! + +SIEBEL + +Who are the strangers, should you guess? + +FROSCH + +Let me alone! I’ll set them first to drinking, +And then, as one a child’s tooth draws, with cleverness, +I’ll worm their secret out, I’m thinking. +They’re of a noble house, that’s very clear: +Haughty and discontented they appear. + +BRANDER + +They’re mountebanks, upon a revel. + +ALTMAYER + +Perhaps. + +FROSCH + +Look out, I’ll smoke them now! + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) + +Not if he had them by the neck, I vow, +Would e’er these people scent the Devil! + +FAUST +Fair greeting, gentlemen! + +SIEBEL + +Our thanks: we give the same. +(_Murmurs, inspecting_ MEPHISTOPHELES _from the side_.) +In one foot is the fellow lame? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Is it permitted that we share your leisure? +In place of cheering drink, which one seeks vainly here, +Your company shall give us pleasure. + +ALTMAYER + +A most fastidious person you appear. + + +FROSCH + +No doubt ’twas late when you from Rippach started? +And supping there with Hans occasioned your delay? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +We passed, without a call, to-day. +At our last interview, before we parted +Much of his cousins did he speak, entreating +That we should give to each his kindly greeting. + +(_He bows to_ FROSCH.) + +ALTMAYER (_aside_) + +You have it now! he understands. + +SIEBEL + +A knave sharp-set! + +FROSCH + +Just wait awhile: I’ll have him yet. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +If I am right, we heard the sound +Of well-trained voices, singing chorus; +And truly, song must here rebound +Superbly from the arches o’er us. + +FROSCH + +Are you, perhaps, a virtuoso? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +O no! my wish is great, my power is only so-so. + +ALTMAYER + +Give us a song! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +If you desire, a number. + +SIEBEL + +So that it be a bran-new strain! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +We’ve just retraced our way from. Spain, +The lovely land of wine, and song, and slumber. + +(_Sings_.) + +There was a king once reigning, +Who had a big black flea— + +FROSCH + +Hear, hear! A flea! D’ye rightly take the jest? +I call a flea a tidy guest. + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_sings_) + + There was a king once reigning, + Who had a big black flea, + And loved him past explaining, + As his own son were he. + He called his man of stitches; + The tailor came straightway: + Here, measure the lad for breeches. + And measure his coat, I say! + +BRANDER + +But mind, allow the tailor no caprices: +Enjoin upon him, as his head is dear, +To most exactly measure, sew and shear, +So that the breeches have no creases! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + + In silk and velvet gleaming + He now was wholly drest— + Had a coat with ribbons streaming, + A cross upon his breast. + He had the first of stations, + A minister’s star and name; + And also all his relations + Great lords at court became. + + And the lords and ladies of honor + Were plagued, awake and in bed; + The queen she got them upon her, + The maids were bitten and bled. + And they did not dare to brush them, + Or scratch them, day or night: + We crack them and we crush them, + At once, whene’er they bite. + + CHORUS (_shouting_) + + We crack them and we crush them, + At once, whene’er they bite! + +FROSCH +Bravo! bravo! that was fine. + +SIEBEL + +Every flea may it so befall! + +BRANDER + +Point your fingers and nip them all! + +ALTMAYER + +Hurrah for Freedom! Hurrah for wine! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I fain would drink with you, my glass to Freedom clinking, +If ’twere a better wine that here I see you drinking. + +SIEBEL + +Don’t let us hear that speech again! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Did I not fear the landlord might complain, +I’d treat these worthy guests, with pleasure, +To some from out our cellar’s treasure. + +SIEBEL + +Just treat, and let the landlord me arraign! + +FROSCH + +And if the wine be good, our praises shall be ample. +But do not give too very small a sample; +For, if its quality I decide, +With a good mouthful I must be supplied. + +ALTMAYER (_aside_) + +They’re from the Rhine! I guessed as much, before. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Bring me a gimlet here! + +BRANDER + +What shall therewith be done? +You’ve not the casks already at the door? + +ALTMAYER + +Yonder, within the landlord’s box of tools, there’s one! + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_takes the gimlet_) + +(_To_ FROSCH.) + +Now, give me of your taste some intimation. + +FROSCH + +How do you mean? Have you so many kinds? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +The choice is free: make up your minds. + +ALTMAYER (_to_ FROSCH) + +Aha! you lick your chops, from sheer anticipation. + +FROSCH + +Good! if I have the choice, so let the wine be Rhenish! +Our Fatherland can best the sparkling cup replenish. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +(_boring a hole in the edge of the table, at the place where_ +FROSCH _sits_) + +Get me a little wax, to make the stoppers, quick! + +ALTMAYER + +Ah! I perceive a juggler’s trick. + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ BRANDER) + +And you? + +BRANDER + +Champagne shall be my wine, +And let it sparkle fresh and fine! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +(_bores: in the meantime one has made the wax stoppers, and +plugged the holes with them_.) + +BRANDER + +What’s foreign one can’t always keep quite clear of, +For good things, oft, are not so near; +A German can’t endure the French to see or hear of, +Yet drinks their wines with hearty cheer. + +SIEBEL + +(_as_ MEPHISTOPHELES _approaches his seat_) +For me, I grant, sour wine is out of place; +Fill up my glass with sweetest, will you? + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_boring_) + +Tokay shall flow at once, to fill you! + +ALTMAYER + +No—look me, Sirs, straight in the face! +I see you have your fun at our expense. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +O no! with gentlemen of such pretence, +That were to venture far, indeed. +Speak out, and make your choice with speed! +With what a vintage can I serve you? + +ALTMAYER + +With any—only satisfy our need. + +(_After the holes have been bored and plugged_) + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_with singular gestures_) + + Grapes the vine-stem bears, + Horns the he-goat wears! + The grapes are juicy, the vines are wood, + The wooden table gives wine as good! + Into the depths of Nature peer,— + Only believe there’s a miracle here! + +Now draw the stoppers, and drink your fill! + +ALL + +(_as they draw out the stoppers, and the wine which has been +desired flows into the glass of each)_ + +O beautiful fountain, that flows at will! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +But have a care that you nothing spill! + +(_They drink repeatedly_.) + +ALL (_sing_) + + As ’twere five hundred hogs, we feel + So cannibalic jolly! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +See, now, the race is happy—it is free! + +FAUST + +To leave them is my inclination. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Take notice, first! their bestiality +Will make a brilliant demonstration. + +SIEBEL + +(_drinks carelessly: the wine spills upon the earth, and turns to +flame_) + +Help! Fire! Help! Hell-fire is sent! + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_charming away the flame)_ + +Be quiet, friendly element! + +(_To the revellers_) + +A bit of purgatory ’twas for this time, merely. + +SIEBEL + +What mean you? Wait!—you’ll pay for’t dearly! +You’ll know us, to your detriment. + +FROSCH + +Don’t try that game a second time upon us! + +ALTMAYER + +I think we’d better send him packing quietly. + +SIEBEL + +What, Sir! you dare to make so free, +And play your hocus-pocus on us! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Be still, old wine-tub. + +SIEBEL + +Broomstick, you! +You face it out, impertinent and heady? + +BRANDER + +Just wait! a shower of blows is ready. + +ALTMAYER + +(_draws a stopper out of the table: fire flies in his face_.) +I burn! I burn! + +SIEBEL + +’Tis magic! Strike— +The knave is outlawed! Cut him as you like! +(_They draw their knives, and rush upon_ MEPHISTOPHELES.) + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_with solemn gestures_) + + False word and form of air, + Change place, and sense ensnare! + Be here—and there! + +(_They stand amazed and look at each other_.) + +ALTMAYER + +Where am I? What a lovely land! + +FROSCH + +Vines? Can I trust my eyes? + +SIEBEL + +And purple grapes at hand! + +BRANDER + +Here, over this green arbor bending, +See what a vine! what grapes depending! + +(_He takes_ SIEBEL _by the nose: the others do the same reciprocally, +and raise their knives_.) + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_as above_) + +Loose, Error, from their eyes the band, +And how the Devil jests, be now enlightened! + +(_He disappears with_ FAUST: _the revellers start and separate_.) + +SIEBEL + +What happened? + +ALTMAYER + +How? + +FROSCH + +Was that your nose I tightened? + +BRANDER (_to_ SIEBEL) + +And yours that still I have in hand? + +ALTMAYER + +It was a blow that went through every limb! +Give me a chair! I sink! my senses swim. + +FROSCH + +But what has happened, tell me now? + +SIEBEL + +Where is he? If I catch the scoundrel hiding, +He shall not leave alive, I vow. + +ALTMAYER + +I saw him with these eyes upon a wine-cask riding +Out of the cellar-door, just now. +Still in my feet the fright like lead is weighing. +(_He turns towards the table_.) +Why! If the fount of wine should still be playing? + +SIEBEL + +’Twas all deceit, and lying, false design! + +FROSCH + +And yet it seemed as I were drinking wine. + +BRANDER + +But with the grapes how was it, pray? + +ALTMAYER + +Shall one believe no miracles, just say! + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +VI + + +WITCHES’ KITCHEN + +(_Upon a low hearth stands a great caldron, under which a fire +is burning. Various figures appear in the vapors which +rise from the caldron. An ape sits beside it, skims it, and +watches lest it boil over. The he-ape, with the young +ones, sits near and warms himself. Ceiling and walls are +covered with the most fantastic witch-implements_.) + +FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES + +FAUST + +These crazy signs of witches’ craft repel me! +I shall recover, dost thou tell me, +Through this insane, chaotic play? +From an old hag shall I demand assistance? +And will her foul mess take away +Full thirty years from my existence? +Woe’s me, canst thou naught better find! +Another baffled hope must be lamented: +Has Nature, then, and has a noble mind +Not any potent balsam yet invented? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Once more, my friend, thou talkest sensibly. +There is, to make thee young, a simpler mode and apter; +But in another book ’tis writ for thee, +And is a most eccentric chapter. + +FAUST + +Yet will I know it. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Good! the method is revealed +Without or gold or magic or physician. +Betake thyself to yonder field, +There hoe and dig, as thy condition; +Restrain thyself, thy sense and will +Within a narrow sphere to flourish; +With unmixed food thy body nourish; +Live with the ox as ox, and think it not a theft +That thou manur’st the acre which thou reapest;— +That, trust me, is the best mode left, +Whereby for eighty years thy youth thou keepest! + +FAUST + +I am not used to that; I cannot stoop to try it— +To take the spade in hand, and ply it. +The narrow being suits me not at all. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Then to thine aid the witch must call. + +FAUST + +Wherefore the hag, and her alone? +Canst thou thyself not brew the potion? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +That were a charming sport, I own: +I’d build a thousand bridges meanwhile, I’ve a notion. +Not Art and Science serve, alone; +Patience must in the work be shown. +Long is the calm brain active in creation; +Time, only, strengthens the fine fermentation. +And all, belonging thereunto, +Is rare and strange, howe’er you take it: +The Devil taught the thing, ’tis true, +And yet the Devil cannot make it. +(_Perceiving the Animals_) +See, what a delicate race they be! +That is the maid! the man is he! +(_To the Animals_) +It seems the mistress has gone away? + +THE ANIMALS + +Carousing, to-day! +Off and about, +By the chimney out! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +What time takes she for dissipating? + +THE ANIMALS + +While we to warm our paws are waiting. + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) + +How findest thou the tender creatures? + +FAUST + +Absurder than I ever yet did see. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Why, just such talk as this, for me, +Is that which has the most attractive features! + +(_To the Animals_) + +But tell me now, ye cursed puppets, +Why do ye stir the porridge so? + +THE ANIMALS + +We’re cooking watery soup for beggars. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Then a great public you can show. + +THE HE-APE + +(_comes up and fawns on_ MEPHISTOPHELES) + + O cast thou the dice! + Make me rich in a trice, + Let me win in good season! + Things are badly controlled, + And had I but gold, + So had I my reason. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +How would the ape be sure his luck enhances. +Could he but try the lottery’s chances! + +(_In the meantime the young apes have been playing with a +large ball, which they now roll forward_.) + +THE HE-APE + + The world’s the ball: + Doth rise and fall, + And roll incessant: + Like glass doth ring, + A hollow thing,— + How soon will’t spring, + And drop, quiescent? + Here bright it gleams, + Here brighter seems: + I live at present! + Dear son, I say, + Keep thou away! + Thy doom is spoken! + ’Tis made of clay, + And will be broken. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +What means the sieve? + +THE HE-APE (_taking it down_) + + Wert thou the thief, + I’d know him and shame him. + +(_He runs to the_ SHE-APE, _and lets her look through it_.) + + Look through the sieve! + Know’st thou the thief, + And darest not name him? + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_approaching the fire)_ + +And what’s this pot? + +HE-APE AND SHE-APE + + The fool knows it not! + He knows not the pot, + He knows not the kettle! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Impertinent beast! + +THE HE-APE + +Take the brush here, at least, +And sit down on the settle! + +(_He invites_ MEPHISTOPHELES _to sit down_.) + +FAUST + +(_who during all this time has been standing before a mirror, +now approaching and now retreating from it_) + +What do I see? What heavenly form revealed +Shows through the glass from Magic’s fair dominions! +O lend me, Love, the swiftest of thy pinions, +And bear me to her beauteous field! +Ah, if I leave this spot with fond designing, +If I attempt to venture near, +Dim, as through gathering mist, her charms appear!— +A woman’s form, in beauty shining! +Can woman, then, so lovely be? +And must I find her body, there reclining, +Of all the heavens the bright epitome? +Can Earth with such a thing be mated? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Why, surely, if a God first plagues Himself six days, +Then, self-contented, _Bravo_! says, +Must something clever be created. +This time, thine eyes be satiate! +I’ll yet detect thy sweetheart and ensnare her, +And blest is he, who has the lucky fate, +Some day, as bridegroom, home to bear her. + +(FAUST _gazes continually in the mirror_. MEPHISTOPHELES, +_stretching himself out on the settle, and playing with the +brush, continues to speak_.) + +So sit I, like the King upon his throne: +I hold the sceptre, here,—and lack the crown alone. + +THE ANIMALS + +(_who up to this time have been making all kinds of fantastic +movements together bring a crown to_ MEPHISTOPHELES +_with great noise_.) + + O be thou so good + With sweat and with blood + The crown to belime! + +(_They handle the crown awkwardly and break it into two +pieces, with which they spring around_.) + + ’Tis done, let it be! + We speak and we see, + We hear and we rhyme! + +FAUST (_before the mirror_) + +Woe’s me! I fear to lose my wits. + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_pointing to the Animals_) + +My own head, now, is really nigh to sinking. + +THE ANIMALS + + If lucky our hits, + And everything fits, + ’Tis thoughts, and we’re thinking! + +FAUST (_as above_) + +My bosom burns with that sweet vision; +Let us, with speed, away from here! + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_in the same attitude_) + +One must, at least, make this admission— +They’re poets, genuine and sincere. + +(_The caldron, which the_ SHE-APE _has up to this time neglected +to watch, begins to boil over: there ensues a great flame_, +_which blazes out the chimney. The_ WITCH _comes careering +down through the flame, with terrible cries_.) + +THE WITCH + + Ow! ow! ow! ow! + The damnéd beast—the curséd sow! + To leave the kettle, and singe the Frau! + Accurséd fere! + +(_Perceiving_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.) + + What is that here? + Who are you here? + What want you thus? + Who sneaks to us? + The fire-pain + Burn bone and brain! + +(_She plunges the skimming-ladle into the caldron, and scatters +flames towards_ FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, _and the Animals. +The Animals whimper_.) + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +(_reversing the brush, which he has been holding in his hand, +and striding among the jars and glasses_) + + In two! in two! + There lies the brew! + There lies the glass! + The joke will pass, + As time, foul ass! + To the singing of thy crew. + +(_As the_ WITCH _starts back, full of wrath and horror_) + +Ha! know’st thou me? Abomination, thou! +Know’st thou, at last, thy Lord and Master? +What hinders me from smiting now +Thee and thy monkey-sprites with fell disaster? +Hast for the scarlet coat no reverence? +Dost recognize no more the tall cock’s-feather? +Have I concealed this countenance?— +Must tell my name, old face of leather? + +THE WITCH + +O pardon, Sir, the rough salute! +Yet I perceive no cloven foot; +And both your ravens, where are _they_ now? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +This time, I’ll let thee ’scape the debt; +For since we two together met, +’Tis verily full many a day now. +Culture, which smooth the whole world licks, +Also unto the Devil sticks. +The days of that old Northern phantom now are over: +Where canst thou horns and tail and claws discover? +And, as regards the foot, which I can’t spare, in truth, +’Twould only make the people shun me; +Therefore I’ve worn, like many a spindly youth, +False calves these many years upon me. + +THE WITCH (_dancing_) + +Reason and sense forsake my brain, +Since I behold Squire Satan here again! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Woman, from such a name refrain! + +THE WITCH + +Why so? What has it done to thee? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +It’s long been written in the Book of Fable; +Yet, therefore, no whit better men we see: +The Evil One has left, the evil ones are stable. +Sir Baron call me thou, then is the matter good; +A cavalier am I, like others in my bearing. +Thou hast no doubt about my noble blood: +See, here’s the coat-of-arms that I am wearing! + +(_He makes an indecent gesture_.) + +THE WITCH (_laughs immoderately_) + +Ha! ha! That’s just your way, I know: +A rogue you are, and you were always so. + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) + +My friend, take proper heed, I pray! +To manage witches, this is just the way. + +THE WITCH + +Wherein, Sirs, can I be of use? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Give us a goblet of the well-known juice! +But, I must beg you, of the oldest brewage; +The years a double strength produce. + +THE WITCH + +With all my heart! Now, here’s a bottle, +Wherefrom, sometimes, I wet my throttle, +Which, also, not the slightest, stinks; +And willingly a glass I’ll fill him. + +(_Whispering_) + +Yet, if this man without due preparation drinks, +As well thou know’st, within an hour ’twill kill him. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +He is a friend of mine, with whom it will agree, +And he deserves thy kitchen’s best potation: +Come, draw thy circle, speak thine adjuration, +And fill thy goblet full and free! + +THE WITCH + +(_with fantastic gestures draws a circle and places mysterious +articles therein; meanwhile the glasses begin to ring, the +caldron to sound, and make a musical accompaniment. +Finally she brings a great book, and stations in the circle +the Apes, who are obliged to serve as reading-desk, and to +hold the torches. She then beckons_ FAUST _to approach_.) + +FAUST (_to_ MEPHISTOPHELES) + +Now, what shall come of this? the creatures antic, +The crazy stuff, the gestures frantic,— +All the repulsive cheats I view,— +Are known to me, and hated, too. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +O, nonsense! That’s a thing for laughter; +Don’t be so terribly severe! +She juggles you as doctor now, that, after, +The beverage may work the proper cheer. + +(_He persuades_ FAUST _to step into the circle_.) + +THE WITCH + +(_begins to declaim, with much emphasis, from the book_) + + See, thus it’s done! + Make ten of one, + And two let be, + Make even three, + And rich thou ’It be. + Cast o’er the four! + From five and six + (The witch’s tricks) + Make seven and eight, + ’Tis finished straight! + And nine is one, + And ten is none. + This is the witch’s once-one’s-one! + +FAUST + +She talks like one who raves in fever. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Thou’lt hear much more before we leave her. +’Tis all the same: the book I can repeat, +Such time I’ve squandered o’er the history: +A contradiction thus complete +Is always for the wise, no less than fools, a mystery. +The art is old and new, for verily +All ages have been taught the matter,— +By Three and One, and One and Three, +Error instead of Truth to scatter. +They prate and teach, and no one interferes; +All from the fellowship of fools are shrinking. +Man usually believes, if only words he hears, +That also with them goes material for thinking! + +THE WITCH (_continues_) + + The lofty skill + Of Science, still + From all men deeply hidden! + Who takes no thought, + To him ’tis brought, + ’Tis given unsought, unbidden! + +FAUST + +What nonsense she declaims before us! +My head is nigh to split, I fear: +It seems to me as if I hear +A hundred thousand fools in chorus. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +O Sibyl excellent, enough of adjuration! +But hither bring us thy potation, +And quickly fill the beaker to the brim! +This drink will bring my friend no injuries: +He is a man of manifold degrees, +And many draughts are known to him. + +(_The_ WITCH, _with many ceremonies, pours the drink into a +cup; as_ FAUST _sets it to his lips, a light flame arises_.) + +Down with it quickly! Drain it off! +’Twill warm thy heart with new desire: +Art with the Devil hand and glove, +And wilt thou be afraid of fire? + +(_The_ WITCH _breaks the circle_: FAUST _steps forth_.) + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +And now, away! Thou dar’st not rest. + +THE WITCH + +And much good may the liquor do thee! + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_to the_ WITCH) + +Thy wish be on Walpurgis Night expressed; +What boon I have, shall then be given unto thee. + +THE WITCH + +Here is a song, which, if you sometimes sing, +You’ll find it of peculiar operation. + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) + +Come, walk at once! A rapid occupation +Must start the needful perspiration, +And through thy frame the liquor’s potence fling. +The noble indolence I’ll teach thee then to treasure, +And soon thou’lt be aware, with keenest thrills of pleasure, +How Cupid stirs and leaps, on light and restless wing. + +FAUST + +One rapid glance within the mirror give me, +How beautiful that woman-form! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +No, no! The paragon of all, believe me, +Thou soon shalt see, alive and warm. + +_(Aside)_ + +Thou’lt find, this drink thy blood compelling, +Each woman beautiful as Helen! + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +VII + + +STREET + +FAUST MARGARET _(passing by)_ + +FAUST + +Fair lady, let it not offend you, +That arm and escort I would lend you! + +MARGARET + +I’m neither lady, neither fair, +And home I can go without your care. + +[_She releases herself, and exit_. + +FAUST + +By Heaven, the girl is wondrous fair! +Of all I’ve seen, beyond compare; +So sweetly virtuous and pure, +And yet a little pert, be sure! +The lip so red, the cheek’s clear dawn, +[Illustration:] +I’ll not forget while the world rolls on! +How she cast down her timid eyes, +Deep in my heart imprinted lies: +How short and sharp of speech was she, +Why, ’twas a real ecstasy! + +(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_) + +FAUST + +Hear, of that girl I’d have possession! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Which, then? + +FAUST + +The one who just went by. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +She, there? She’s coming from confession, +Of every sin absolved; for I, +Behind her chair, was listening nigh. +So innocent is she, indeed, +That to confess she had no need. +I have no power o’er souls so green. + +FAUST + +And yet, she’s older than fourteen. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +How now! You’re talking like Jack Rake, +Who every flower for himself would take, +And fancies there are no favors more, +Nor honors, save for him in store; +Yet always doesn’t the thing succeed. + +FAUST + +Most Worthy Pedagogue, take heed! +Let not a word of moral law be spoken! +I claim, I tell thee, all my right; +And if that image of delight +Rest not within mine arms to-night, +At midnight is our compact broken. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +But think, the chances of the case! +I need, at least, a fortnight’s space, +To find an opportune occasion. + +FAUST + +Had I but seven hours for all, +I should not on the Devil call, +But win her by my own persuasion. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +You almost like a Frenchman prate; +Yet, pray, don’t take it as annoyance! +Why, all at once, exhaust the joyance? +Your bliss is by no means so great +As if you’d use, to get control, +All sorts of tender rigmarole, +And knead and shape her to your thought, +As in Italian tales ’tis taught. + +FAUST + +Without that, I have appetite. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +But now, leave jesting out of sight! +I tell you, once for all, that speed +With this fair girl will not succeed; +By storm she cannot captured be; +We must make use of strategy. + +FAUST + +Get me something the angel keeps! +Lead me thither where she sleeps! +Get me a kerchief from her breast,— +A garter that her knee has pressed! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +That you may see how much I’d fain +Further and satisfy your pain, +We will no longer lose a minute; +I’ll find her room to-day, and take you in it. + +FAUST + +And shall I see—possess her? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +No! +Unto a neighbor she must go, +And meanwhile thou, alone, mayst glow +With every hope of future pleasure, +Breathing her atmosphere in fullest measure. + +FAUST + +Can we go thither? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +’Tis too early yet. + +FAUST + +A gift for her I bid thee get! +[_Exit_. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Presents at once? That’s good: he’s certain to get at her! +Full many a pleasant place I know, +And treasures, buried long ago: +I must, perforce, look up the matter. _[Exit_. +[Illustration] + + + + +VIII + + +EVENING A SMALL, NEATLY KEPT CHAMBER + +MARGARET + +(_plaiting and binding up the braids of her hair_) + +I’d something give, could I but say +Who was that gentleman, to-day. +Surely a gallant man was he, +And of a noble family; +And much could I in his face behold,— +And he wouldn’t, else, have been so bold! + + [_Exit_ + +MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Come in, but gently: follow me! + +FAUST (_after a moment’s silence_) + +Leave me alone, I beg of thee! + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_prying about_) + +Not every girl keeps things so neat. + +FAUST (_looking around_) + +O welcome, twilight soft and sweet, +That breathes throughout this hallowed shrine! +Sweet pain of love, bind thou with fetters fleet +The heart that on the dew of hope must pine! +How all around a sense impresses +Of quiet, order, and content! +This poverty what bounty blesses! +What bliss within this narrow den is pent! + +(_He throws himself into a leathern arm-chair near the bed_.) + +Receive me, thou, that in thine open arms +Departed joy and pain wert wont to gather! +How oft the children, with their ruddy charms, +Hung here, around this throne, where sat the father! +Perchance my love, amid the childish band, +Grateful for gifts the Holy Christmas gave her, +Here meekly kissed the grandsire’s withered hand. +I feel, O maid! thy very soul +Of order and content around me whisper,— +Which leads thee with its motherly control, +The cloth upon thy board bids smoothly thee unroll, +The sand beneath thy feet makes whiter, crisper. +O dearest hand, to thee ’tis given +To change this hut into a lower heaven! +And here! + +(_He lifts one of the bed-curtains_.) + +What sweetest thrill is in my blood! +Here could I spend whole hours, delaying: +Here Nature shaped, as if in sportive playing, +The angel blossom from the bud. +Here lay the child, with Life’s warm essence +The tender bosom filled and fair, +And here was wrought, through holier, purer presence, +The form diviner beings wear! + +And I? What drew me here with power? +How deeply am I moved, this hour! +What seek I? Why so full my heart, and sore? +Miserable Faust! I know thee now no more. + +Is there a magic vapor here? +I came, with lust of instant pleasure, +And lie dissolved in dreams of love’s sweet leisure! +Are we the sport of every changeful atmosphere? + +And if, this moment, came she in to me, +How would I for the fault atonement render! +How small the giant lout would be, +Prone at her feet, relaxed and tender! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Be quick! I see her there, returning. + +FAUST + +Go! go! I never will retreat. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Here is a casket, not unmeet, +Which elsewhere I have just been earning. +Here, set it in the press, with haste! +I swear, ’twill turn her head, to spy it: +Some baubles I therein had placed, +That you might win another by it. +True, child is child, and play is play. + +FAUST + +I know not, should I do it? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Ask you, pray? +Yourself, perhaps, would keep the bubble? +Then I suggest, ’twere fair and just +To spare the lovely day your lust, +And spare to me the further trouble. +You are not miserly, I trust? +I rub my hands, in expectation tender— + +(_He places the casket in the press, and locks it again_.) + +Now quick, away! +The sweet young maiden to betray, +So that by wish and will you bend her; +And you look as though +To the lecture-hall you were forced to go,— +As if stood before you, gray and loath, +Physics and Metaphysics both! +But away! [_Exeunt_. + +MARGARET (_with a lamp_) + +It is so close, so sultry, here! + +(_She opens the window_) + +And yet ’tis not so warm outside. +I feel, I know not why, such fear!— +Would mother came!—where can she bide? +My body’s chill and shuddering,— +I’m but a silly, fearsome thing! + +(_She begins to sing while undressing_) + + There was a King in Thule, + Was faithful till the grave,— + To whom his mistress, dying, + A golden goblet gave. + + Naught was to him more precious; + He drained it at every bout: + His eyes with tears ran over, + As oft as he drank thereout. + + When came his time of dying, + The towns in his land he told, + Naught else to his heir denying + Except the goblet of gold. + + He sat at the royal banquet + With his knights of high degree, + In the lofty hall of his fathers + In the Castle by the Sea. + + There stood the old carouser, + And drank the last life-glow; + And hurled the hallowed goblet + Into the tide below. + + He saw it plunging and filling, + And sinking deep in the sea: + Then fell his eyelids forever, + And never more drank he! + +(_She opens the press in order to arrange her clothes, and perceives +the casket of jewels_.) + +How comes that lovely casket here to me? +I locked the press, most certainly. +’Tis truly wonderful! What can within it be? +Perhaps ’twas brought by some one as a pawn, +And mother gave a loan thereon? +And here there hangs a key to fit: +I have a mind to open it. +What is that? God in Heaven! Whence came +Such things? Never beheld I aught so fair! +Rich ornaments, such as a noble dame +On highest holidays might wear! +How would the pearl-chain suit my hair? +Ah, who may all this splendor own? + +(_She adorns herself with the jewelry, and steps before the +mirror_.) + +Were but the ear-rings mine, alone! +One has at once another air. +What helps one’s beauty, youthful blood? +One may possess them, well and good; +But none the more do others care. +They praise us half in pity, sure: +To gold still tends, +On gold depends +All, all! Alas, we poor! + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +IX + + +PROMENADE + +(FAUST, _walking thoughtfully up and down. To him_ MEPHISTOPHELES.) + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +By all love ever rejected! By hell-fire hot and unsparing! +I wish I knew something worse, that I might use it for +swearing! + +FAUST + +What ails thee? What is’t gripes thee, elf? +A face like thine beheld I never. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I would myself unto the Devil deliver, +If I were not a Devil myself! + +FAUST + +Thy head is out of order, sadly: +It much becomes thee to be raving madly. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Just think, the pocket of a priest should get +The trinkets left for Margaret! +The mother saw them, and, instanter, +A secret dread began to haunt her. +Keen scent has she for tainted air; +She snuffs within her book of prayer, +And smells each article, to see +If sacred or profane it be; +So here she guessed, from every gem, +That not much blessing came with them. +“My child,” she said, “ill-gotten good +Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood. +Before the Mother of God we’ll lay it; +With heavenly manna she’ll repay it!” +But Margaret thought, with sour grimace, +“A gift-horse is not out of place, +And, truly! godless cannot be +The one who brought such things to me.” +A parson came, by the mother bidden: +He saw, at once, where the game was hidden, +And viewed it with a favor stealthy. +He spake: “That is the proper view,— +Who overcometh, winneth too. +The Holy Church has a stomach healthy: +Hath eaten many a land as forfeit, +And never yet complained of surfeit: +The Church alone, beyond all question, +Has for ill-gotten goods the right digestion.” + +FAUST + +A general practice is the same, +Which Jew and King may also claim. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Then bagged the spangles, chains, and rings, +As if but toadstools were the things, +And thanked no less, and thanked no more +Than if a sack of nuts he bore,— +Promised them fullest heavenly pay, +And deeply edified were they. + +FAUST + +And Margaret? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Sits unrestful still, +And knows not what she should, or will; +Thinks on the jewels, day and night, +But more on him who gave her such delight. + +FAUST + +The darling’s sorrow gives me pain. +Get thou a set for her again! +The first was not a great display. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +O yes, the gentleman finds it all child’s-play! + +FAUST + +Fix and arrange it to my will; +And on her neighbor try thy skill! +Don’t be a Devil stiff as paste, +But get fresh jewels to her taste! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Yes, gracious Sir, in all obedience! + +[_Exit_ FAUST. + +Such an enamored fool in air would blow +Sun, moon, and all the starry legions, +To give his sweetheart a diverting show. + +[_Exit_. + +[Illustration] + + + + +X + + +THE NEIGHBOR’S HOUSE + +MARTHA (_solus_) + +God forgive my husband, yet he +Hasn’t done his duty by me! +Off in the world he went straightway,— +Left me lie in the straw where I lay. +And, truly, I did naught to fret him: +God knows I loved, and can’t forget him! + +(_She weeps_.) + +Perhaps he’s even dead! Ah, woe!— +Had I a certificate to show! + +MARGARET (_comes_) + +Dame Martha! + +MARTHA + +Margaret! what’s happened thee? + +MARGARET + +I scarce can stand, my knees are trembling! +I find a box, the first resembling, +Within my press! Of ebony,— +And things, all splendid to behold, +And richer far than were the old. + +MARTHA + +You mustn’t tell it to your mother! +’Twould go to the priest, as did the other. + +MARGARET + +Ah, look and see—just look and see! + +MARTHA (_adorning her_) + +O, what a blessed luck for thee! + +MARGARET + +But, ah! in the streets I dare not bear them, +Nor in the church be seen to wear them. + +MARTHA + +Yet thou canst often this way wander, +And secretly the jewels don, +Walk up and down an hour, before the mirror yonder,— +We’ll have our private joy thereon. +And then a chance will come, a holiday, +When, piece by piece, can one the things abroad display, +A chain at first, then other ornament: +Thy mother will not see, and stories we’ll invent. + +MARGARET + +Whoever could have brought me things so precious? +That something’s wrong, I feel suspicious. + +(_A knock_) + +Good Heaven! My mother can that have been? + +MARTHA (_peeping through the blind_) + +’Tis some strange gentleman.—Come in! + +(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.) + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +That I so boldly introduce me, +I beg you, ladies, to excuse me. + +(_Steps back reverently, on seeing_ MARGARET.) + +For Martha Schwerdtlein I’d inquire! + + +MARTHA + +I’m she: what does the gentleman desire? + + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside to her_) + +It is enough that you are she: +You’ve a visitor of high degree. +Pardon the freedom I have ta’en,— +Will after noon return again. + + +MARTHA (_aloud_) + +Of all things in the world! Just hear— +He takes thee for a lady, dear! + + +MARGARET + +I am a creature young and poor: +The gentleman’s too kind, I’m sure. +The jewels don’t belong to me. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Ah, not alone the jewelry! +The look, the manner, both betray— +Rejoiced am I that I may stay! + + +MARTHA + +What is your business? I would fain— + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I would I had a more cheerful strain! +Take not unkindly its repeating: +Your husband’s dead, and sends a greeting. + + +MARTHA + +Is dead? Alas, that heart so true! +My husband dead! Let me die, too! + + +MARGARET + +Ah, dearest dame, let not your courage fail! + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Hear me relate the mournful tale! + + +MARGARET + +Therefore I’d never love, believe me! +A loss like this to death would grieve me. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Joy follows woe, woe after joy comes flying. + + +MARTHA + +Relate his life’s sad close to me! + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +In Padua buried, he is lying +Beside the good Saint Antony, +Within a grave well consecrated, +For cool, eternal rest created. + + +MARTHA + +He gave you, further, no commission? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Yes, one of weight, with many sighs: +Three hundred masses buy, to save him from perdition! +My hands are empty, otherwise. + + +MARTHA + +What! Not a pocket-piece? no jewelry? +What every journeyman within his wallet spares, +And as a token with him bears, +And rather starves or begs, than loses? + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Madam, it is a grief to me; +Yet, on my word, his cash was put to proper uses. +Besides, his penitence was very sore, +And he lamented his ill fortune all the more. + + +MARGARET + +Alack, that men are so unfortunate! +Surely for his soul’s sake full many a prayer I’ll proffer. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +You well deserve a speedy marriage-offer: +You are so kind, compassionate. + + +MARGARET + +O, no! As yet, it would not do. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +If not a husband, then a beau for you! +It is the greatest heavenly blessing, +To have a dear thing for one’s caressing. + + +MARGARET + +The country’s custom is not so. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Custom, or not! It happens, though. + + +MARTHA + +Continue, pray! + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + + I stood beside his bed of dying. +’Twas something better than manure,— +Half-rotten straw: and yet, he died a Christian, sure, +And found that heavier scores to his account were lying. +He cried: “I find my conduct wholly hateful! +To leave my wife, my trade, in manner so ungrateful! +Ah, the remembrance makes me die! +Would of my wrong to her I might be shriven!” + + +MARTHA (_weeping_) + +The dear, good man! Long since was he forgiven. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +“Yet she, God knows! was more to blame than I.” + + +MARTHA + +He lied! What! On the brink of death he slandered? + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +In the last throes his senses wandered, +If I such things but half can judge. +He said: “I had no time for play, for gaping freedom: +First children, and then work for bread to feed ’em,— +For bread, in the widest sense, to drudge, +And could not even eat my share in peace and quiet!” + + +MARTHA + +Had he all love, all faith forgotten in his riot? +My work and worry, day and night? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Not so: the memory of it touched him quite. +Said he: “When I from Malta went away +My prayers for wife and little ones were zealous, +And such a luck from Heaven befell us, +We made a Turkish merchantman our prey, +That to the Soldan bore a mighty treasure. +Then I received, as was most fit, +Since bravery was paid in fullest measure, +My well-apportioned share of it.” + + +MARTHA + +Say, how? Say, where? If buried, did he own it? + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Who knows, now, whither the four winds have blown it? +A fair young damsel took him in her care, +As he in Naples wandered round, unfriended; +And she much love, much faith to him did bear, +So that he felt it till his days were ended. + + +MARTHA + +The villain! From his children thieving! +Even all the misery on him cast +Could not prevent his shameful way of living! + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +But see! He’s dead therefrom, at last. +Were I in _your_ place, do not doubt me, +I’d mourn him decently a year, +And for another keep, meanwhile, my eyes about me. + + +MARTHA + +Ah, God! another one so dear +As was my first, this world will hardly give me. +There never was a sweeter fool than mine, +Only he loved to roam and leave me, +And foreign wenches and foreign wine, +And the damned throw of dice, indeed. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Well, well! That might have done, however, +If he had only been as clever, +And treated _your_ slips with as little heed. +I swear, with this condition, too, +I would, myself, change rings with you. + + +MARTHA + +The gentleman is pleased to jest. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I’ll cut away, betimes, from here: +She’d take the Devil at his word, I fear. + +(_To_ MARGARET) + +How fares the heart within your breast? + + +MARGARET + +What means the gentleman? + + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_) + + Sweet innocent, thou art! + +(_Aloud_.) + + Ladies, farewell! + + +MARGARET + +Farewell! + + +MARTHA + + A moment, ere we part! +I’d like to have a legal witness, +Where, how, and when he died, to certify his fitness. +Irregular ways I’ve always hated; +I want his death in the weekly paper stated. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Yes, my good dame, a pair of witnesses +Always the truth establishes. +I have a friend of high condition, +Who’ll also add his deposition. +I’ll bring him here. + + +MARTHA + + Good Sir, pray do! + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +And this young lady will be present, too? +A gallant youth! has travelled far: +Ladies with him delighted are. + + +MARGARET + +Before him I should blush, ashamed. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Before no king that could be named! + + +MARTHA + +Behind the house, in my garden, then, +This eve we’ll expect the gentlemen. + +[Illustration] + + + + +XI + + +A STREET + +FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES + +FAUST + +How is it? under way? and soon complete? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Ah, bravo! Do I find you burning? +Well, Margaret soon will still your yearning: +At Neighbor Martha’s you’ll this evening meet. +A fitter woman ne’er was made +To ply the pimp and gypsy trade! + +FAUST + +Tis well. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Yet something is required from us. + +FAUST + +One service pays the other thus. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +We’ve but to make a deposition valid +That now her husband’s limbs, outstretched and pallid, +At Padua rest, in consecrated soil. + +FAUST + +Most wise! And first, of course, we’ll make the journey + thither? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +_Sancta simplicitas_! no need of such a toil; +Depose, with knowledge or without it, either! + +FAUST + +If you’ve naught better, then, I’ll tear your pretty plan! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Now, there you are! O holy man! +Is it the first time in your life you’re driven +To bear false witness in a case? +Of God, the world and all that in it has a place, +Of Man, and all that moves the being of his race, +Have you not terms and definitions given +With brazen forehead, daring breast? +And, if you’ll probe the thing profoundly, +Knew you so much—and you’ll confess it roundly!— +As here of Schwerdtlein’s death and place of rest? + +FAUST + +Thou art, and thou remain’st, a sophist, liar. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Yes, knew I not more deeply thy desire. +For wilt thou not, no lover fairer, +Poor Margaret flatter, and ensnare her, +And all thy soul’s devotion swear her? + +FAUST + +And from my heart. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + + ’Tis very fine! +Thine endless love, thy faith assuring, +The one almighty force enduring,— +Will that, too, prompt this heart of thine? + +FAUST + +Hold! hold! It will!—If such my flame, +And for the sense and power intense +I seek, and cannot find, a name; +Then range with all my senses through creation, +Craving the speech of inspiration, +And call this ardor, so supernal, +Endless, eternal and eternal,— +Is that a devilish lying game? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +And yet I’m right! + +FAUST + + Mark this, I beg of thee! +And spare my lungs henceforth: whoever +Intends to have the right, if but his + tongue be clever, +Will have it, certainly. +But come: the further talking brings + disgust, +For thou art right, especially since I + must. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +XII + + +GARDEN + +(MARGARET _on_ FAUST’S _arm_. MARTHA _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES +_walking up and down_.) + +MARGARET + +I feel, the gentleman allows for me, +Demeans himself, and shames me by it; +A traveller is so used to be +Kindly content with any diet. +I know too well that my poor gossip can +Ne’er entertain such an experienced man. + +FAUST + +A look from thee, a word, more entertains +Than all the lore of wisest brains. + +(_He kisses her hand_.) + +MARGARET + +Don’t incommode yourself! How could you ever kiss it! +It is so ugly, rough to see! +What work I do,—how hard and steady is it! +Mother is much too close with me. + +[_They pass_. + +MARTHA + +And you, Sir, travel always, do you not? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Alas, that trade and duty us so harry! +With what a pang one leaves so many a spot, +And dares not even now and then to tarry! + +MARTHA + +In young, wild years it suits your ways, +This round and round the world in freedom sweeping; +But then come on the evil days, +And so, as bachelor, into his grave a-creeping, +None ever found a thing to praise. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I dread to see how such a fate advances. + +MARTHA + +Then, worthy Sir, improve betimes your chances! + +[_They pass_. + +MARGARET + +Yes, out of sight is out of mind! +Your courtesy an easy grace is; +But you have friends in other places, +And sensibler than I, you’ll find. + +FAUST + +Trust me, dear heart! what men call sensible +Is oft mere vanity and narrowness. + +MARGARET + + How so? + +FAUST + +Ah, that simplicity and innocence ne’er know +Themselves, their holy value, and their spell! +That meekness, lowliness, the highest graces +Which Nature portions out so lovingly— + +MARGARET + +So you but think a moment’s space on me, +All times I’ll have to think on you, all places! + +FAUST + +No doubt you’re much alone? + +MARGARET + +Yes, for our household small has grown, +Yet must be cared for, you will own. +We have no maid: I do the knitting, sewing, sweeping, +The cooking, early work and late, in fact; +And mother, in her notions of housekeeping, +Is so exact! +Not that she needs so much to keep expenses down: +We, more than others, might take comfort, rather: +A nice estate was left us by my father, +A house, a little garden near the town. +But now my days have less of noise and hurry; +My brother is a soldier, +My little sister’s dead. +True, with the child a troubled life I led, +Yet I would take again, and willing, all the worry, +So very dear was she. + +FAUST + +An angel, if like thee! + +MARGARET + +I brought it up, and it was fond of me. +Father had died before it saw the light, +And mother’s case seemed hopeless quite, +So weak and miserable she lay; +And she recovered, then, so slowly, day by day. +She could not think, herself, of giving +The poor wee thing its natural living; +And so I nursed it all alone +With milk and water: ’twas my own. +Lulled in my lap with many a song, +It smiled, and tumbled, and grew strong. + +FAUST + +The purest bliss was surely then thy dower. + +MARGARET + +But surely, also, many a weary hour. +I kept the baby’s cradle near +My bed at night: if ’t even stirred, I’d guess it, +And waking, hear. +And I must nurse it, warm beside me press it, +And oft, to quiet it, my bed forsake, +And dandling back and forth the restless creature take, +Then at the wash-tub stand, at morning’s break; +And then the marketing and kitchen-tending, +Day after day, the same thing, never-ending. +One’s spirits, Sir, are thus not always good, +But then one learns to relish rest and food. + +[_They pass_. + +MARTHA + +Yes, the poor women are bad off, ’tis true: +A stubborn bachelor there’s no converting. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +It but depends upon the like of you, +And I should turn to better ways than flirting. + +MARTHA + +Speak plainly, Sir, have you no one detected? +Has not your heart been anywhere subjected? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +The proverb says: One’s own warm hearth +And a good wife, are gold and jewels worth. + +MARTHA + +I mean, have you not felt desire, though ne’er so slightly? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I’ve everywhere, in fact, been entertained politely. + +MARTHA + +I meant to say, were you not touched in earnest, ever? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +One should allow one’s self to jest with ladies never. + + +MARTHA +Ah, you don’t understand! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I’m sorry I’m so blind: +But I am sure—that you are very kind. + +[_They pass_. + +FAUST + +And me, thou angel! didst thou recognize, +As through the garden-gate I came? + +MARGARET + +Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes. + +FAUST + +And thou forgiv’st my freedom, and the blame +To my impertinence befitting, +As the Cathedral thou wert quitting? + +MARGARET + +I was confused, the like ne’er happened me; +No one could ever speak to my discredit. +Ah, thought I, in my conduct has he read it— +Something immodest or unseemly free? +He seemed to have the sudden feeling +That with this wench ’twere very easy dealing. +I will confess, I knew not what appeal +On your behalf, here, in my bosom grew; +But I was angry with myself, to feel +That I could not be angrier with you. + + +FAUST + +Sweet darling! + +MARGARET + +Wait a while! + +(_She plucks a star-flower, and pulls off the leaves, one after +the other_.) + +FAUST + +Shall that a nosegay be? + +MARGARET + +No, it is just in play. + +FAUST + +How? + +MARGARET + +Go! you’ll laugh at me. +(_She pulls off the leaves and murmurs_.) + +FAUST + +What murmurest thou? + +MARGARET (_half aloud_) + +He loves me—loves me not. + +FAUST + +Thou sweet, angelic soul! + +MARGARET (_continues_) + +Loves me—not—loves me—not— +(_plucking the last leaf, she cries with frank delight_:) + +He loves me! + +FAUST + +Yes, child! and let this blossom-word +For thee be speech divine! He loves thee! +Ah, know’st thou what it means? He loves thee! + +(_He grasps both her hands_.) + +MARGARET + +I’m all a-tremble! + +FAUST + +O tremble not! but let this look, +Let this warm clasp of hands declare thee +What is unspeakable! +To yield one wholly, and to feel a rapture +In yielding, that must be eternal! +Eternal!—for the end would be despair. +No, no,—no ending! no ending! + +MARTHA (_coming forward_) + +The night is falling. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + + Ay! we must away. + +MARTHA + +I’d ask you, longer here to tarry, +But evil tongues in this town have full play. +It’s as if nobody had nothing to fetch and carry, +Nor other labor, +But spying all the doings of one’s neighbor: +And one becomes the talk, do whatsoe’er one may. +Where is our couple now? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + + Flown up the alley yonder, +The wilful summer-birds! + +MARTHA + + He seems of her still fonder. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +And she of him. So runs the world away! + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +XIII + + +A GARDEN-ARBOR + +(MARGARET _comes in, conceals herself behind the door, puts her +finger to her lips, and peeps through the crack_.) + +MARGARET + +He comes! + +FAUST (_entering_) + + Ah, rogue! a tease thou art: +I have thee! +(_He kisses her_.) + +MARGARET + +(_clasping him, and returning the kiss_) + Dearest man! I love thee from my heart. + +(MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_) + +FAUST (_stamping his foot_) + +Who’s there? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +A friend! + +FAUST + + A beast! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + + Tis time to separate. + +MARTHA (_coming_) + +Yes, Sir, ’tis late. + +FAUST + + May I not, then, upon you wait? + +MARGARET +My mother would—farewell! + +FAUST + + Ah, can I not remain? +Farewell! + +MARTHA + + Adieu! + +MARGARET + + And soon to meet again! + +[_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES. + +MARGARET + +Dear God! However is it, such +A man can think and know so much? +I stand ashamed and in amaze, +And answer “Yes” to all he says, +A poor, unknowing child! and he— +I can’t think what he finds in me! [_Exit_. + +[Illustration] + + + + +XIV + + +FOREST AND CAVERN + +FAUST (_solus_) + +Spirit sublime, thou gav’st me, gav’st me all +For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain +Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire. +Thou gav’st me Nature as a kingdom grand, +With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou +Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield’st, +But grantest, that in her profoundest breast +I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend. +The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead +Before me, teaching me to know my brothers +In air and water and the silent wood. +And when the storm in forests roars and grinds, +The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs +And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down, +And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,— +Then to the cave secure thou leadest me, +Then show’st me mine own self, and in my breast +The deep, mysterious miracles unfold. +And when the perfect moon before my gaze +Comes up with soothing light, around me float +From every precipice and thicket damp +The silvery phantoms of the ages past, +And temper the austere delight of thought. + +That nothing can be perfect unto Man +I now am conscious. With this ecstasy, +Which brings me near and nearer to the Gods, +Thou gav’st the comrade, whom I now no more +Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he +Demeans me to myself, and with a breath, +A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness. +Within my breast he fans a lawless fire, +Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form: +Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment, +And in enjoyment pine to feel desire. + +(MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.) + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Have you not led this life quite long enough? +How can a further test delight you? +’Tis very well, that once one tries the stuff, +But something new must then requite you. + +FAUST + +Would there were other work for thee! +To plague my day auspicious thou returnest. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Well! I’ll engage to let thee be: +Thou darest not tell me so in earnest. +The loss of thee were truly very slight,— +comrade crazy, rude, repelling: + +[Illustration] + +One has one’s hands full all the day and night; +If what one does, or leaves undone, is right, +From such a face as thine there is no telling. + +FAUST + +There is, again, thy proper tone!— +That thou hast bored me, I must thankful be! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Poor Son of Earth, how couldst thou thus alone +Have led thy life, bereft of me? +I, for a time, at least, have worked thy cure; +Thy fancy’s rickets plague thee not at all: +Had I not been, so hadst thou, sure, +Walked thyself off this earthly ball +Why here to caverns, rocky hollows slinking, +Sit’st thou, as ’twere an owl a-blinking? +Why suck’st, from sodden moss and dripping stone, +Toad-like, thy nourishment alone? +A fine way, this, thy time to fill! +The Doctor’s in thy body still. + +FAUST + +What fresh and vital forces, canst thou guess, +Spring from my commerce with the wilderness? +But, if thou hadst the power of guessing, +Thou wouldst be devil enough to grudge my soul the blessing. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +A blessing drawn from supernatural fountains! +In night and dew to lie upon the mountains; +All Heaven and Earth in rapture penetrating; +Thyself to Godhood haughtily inflating; +To grub with yearning force through Earth’s dark marrow, +Compress the six days’ work within thy bosom narrow,— +To taste, I know not what, in haughty power, +Thine own ecstatic life on all things shower, +Thine earthly self behind thee cast, +And then the lofty instinct, thus— + +(_With a gesture_:) + +at last,— +daren’t say how—to pluck the final flower! + +FAUST + +Shame on thee! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Yes, thou findest that unpleasant! +Thou hast the moral right to cry me “shame!” at present. +One dares not that before chaste ears declare, +Which chaste hearts, notwithstanding, cannot spare; +And, once for all, I grudge thee not the pleasure +Of lying to thyself in moderate measure. +But such a course thou wilt not long endure; +Already art thou o’er-excited, +And, if it last, wilt soon be plighted +To madness and to horror, sure. +Enough of that! Thy love sits lonely yonder, +By all things saddened and oppressed; +Her thoughts and yearnings seek thee, tenderer, fonder,— +mighty love is in her breast. +First came thy passion’s flood and poured around her +As when from melted snow a streamlet overflows; +Thou hast therewith so filled and drowned her, +That now _thy_ stream all shallow shows. +Methinks, instead of in the forests lording, +The noble Sir should find it good, +The love of this young silly blood +At once to set about rewarding. +Her time is miserably long; +She haunts her window, watching clouds that stray +O’er the old city-wall, and far away. +“Were I a little bird!” so runs her song, +Day long, and half night long. +Now she is lively, mostly sad, +Now, wept beyond her tears; +Then again quiet she appears,—Always +love-mad. + +FAUST + +Serpent! Serpent! + +MEPHISTOPHELES _(aside)_ + +Ha! do I trap thee! + +FAUST + +Get thee away with thine offences, +Reprobate! Name not that fairest thing, +Nor the desire for her sweet body bring +Again before my half-distracted senses! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +What wouldst thou, then? She thinks that thou art flown; +And half and half thou art, I own. + +FAUST + +Yet am I near, and love keeps watch and ward; +Though I were ne’er so far, it cannot falter: +I envy even the Body of the Lord +The touching of her lips, before the altar. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +’Tis very well! _My_ envy oft reposes +On your twin-pair, that feed among the roses. + +FAUST + +Away, thou pimp! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +You rail, and it is fun to me. +The God, who fashioned youth and maid, +Perceived the noblest purpose of His trade, +And also made their opportunity. +Go on! It is a woe profound! +’Tis for your sweetheart’s room you’re bound, +And not for death, indeed. + +FAUST + +What are, within her arms, the heavenly blisses? +Though I be glowing with her kisses, +Do I not always share her need? +I am the fugitive, all houseless roaming, +The monster without air or rest, +That like a cataract, down rocks and gorges foaming, +Leaps, maddened, into the abyss’s breast! +And side-wards she, with young unwakened senses, +Within her cabin on the Alpine field +Her simple, homely life commences, +Her little world therein concealed. +And I, God’s hate flung o’er me, +Had not enough, to thrust +The stubborn rocks before me +And strike them into dust! +She and her peace I yet must undermine: +Thou, Hell, hast claimed this sacrifice as thine! +Help, Devil! through the coming pangs to push me; +What must be, let it quickly be! +Let fall on me her fate, and also crush me,— +One ruin whelm both her and me! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Again it seethes, again it glows! +Thou fool, go in and comfort her! +When such a head as thine no outlet knows, +It thinks the end must soon occur. +Hail him, who keeps a steadfast mind! +Thou, else, dost well the devil-nature wear: +Naught so insipid in the world I find +As is a devil in despair. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +XV + + +MARGARET’S ROOM + +MARGARET + +(_at the spinning-wheel, alone_) + + My peace is gone, + My heart is sore: + I never shall find it, + Ah, nevermore! + + Save I have him near. + The grave is here; + The world is gall + And bitterness all. + + My poor weak head + Is racked and crazed; + My thought is lost, + My senses mazed. + + My peace is gone, + My heart is sore: + I never shall find it, + Ah, nevermore! + + To see him, him only, + At the pane I sit; + To meet him, him only, + The house I quit. + + His lofty gait, + His noble size, + The smile of his mouth, + The power of his eyes, + + And the magic flow + Of his talk, the bliss + In the clasp of his hand, + And, ah! his kiss! + + My peace is gone, + My heart is sore: + I never shall find it, + Ah, nevermore! + + My bosom yearns + For him alone; + Ah, dared I clasp him, + And hold, and own! + + And kiss his mouth, + To heart’s desire, + And on his kisses + At last expire! + +[Illustration] + + + + +XVI + + +MARTHA’S GARDEN + +MARGARET FAUST + +MARGARET + +Promise me, Henry!— + +FAUST + +What I can! + +MARGARET + +How is’t with thy religion, pray? +Thou art a dear, good-hearted man, +And yet, I think, dost not incline that way. + +FAUST + +Leave that, my child! Thou know’st my love is tender; +For love, my blood and life would I surrender, +And as for Faith and Church, I grant to each his own. + +MARGARET + +That’s not enough: we must believe thereon. + +FAUST + +Must we? + +MARGARET + +Would that I had some influence! +Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments. + +FAUST + +I honor them. + +MARGARET + +Desiring no possession +’Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to confession. +Believest thou in God? + +FAUST + +My darling, who shall dare +“I believe in God!” to say? +Ask priest or sage the answer to declare, +And it will seem a mocking play, +A sarcasm on the asker. + +MARGARET + +Then thou believest not! + +FAUST + +Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance! +Who dare express Him? +And who profess Him, +Saying: I believe in Him! +Who, feeling, seeing, +Deny His being, +Saying: I believe Him not! +The All-enfolding, +The All-upholding, +Folds and upholds he not +Thee, me, Himself? +Arches not there the sky above us? +Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth? +And rise not, on us shining, +Friendly, the everlasting stars? +Look I not, eye to eye, on thee, +And feel’st not, thronging +To head and heart, the force, +Still weaving its eternal secret, +Invisible, visible, round thy life? +Vast as it is, fill with that force thy heart, +And when thou in the feeling wholly blessed art, +Call it, then, what thou wilt,— +Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God! +I have no name to give it! +Feeling is all in all: +The Name is sound and smoke, +Obscuring Heaven’s clear glow. + +MARGARET + +All that is fine and good, to hear it so: +Much the same way the preacher spoke, +Only with slightly different phrases. + +FAUST + +The same thing, in all places, +All hearts that beat beneath the heavenly day— +Each in its language—say; +Then why not I, in mine, as well? + +MARGARET + +To hear it thus, it may seem passable; +And yet, some hitch in’t there must be +For thou hast no Christianity. + +FAUST + +Dear love! + +MARGARET + + I’ve long been grieved to see +That thou art in such company. + +FAUST + +How so? + +MARGARET + + The man who with thee goes, thy mate, +Within my deepest, inmost soul I hate. +In all my life there’s nothing +Has given my heart so keen a pang of loathing, +As his repulsive face has done. + +FAUST + +Nay, fear him not, my sweetest one! + +MARGARET + +I feel his presence like something ill. +I’ve else, for all, a kindly will, +But, much as my heart to see thee yearneth, +The secret horror of him returneth; +And I think the man a knave, as I live! +If I do him wrong, may God forgive! + +FAUST + +There must be such queer birds, however. + +MARGARET + +Live with the like of him, may I never! +When once inside the door comes he, +He looks around so sneeringly, +And half in wrath: +One sees that in nothing no interest he hath: +’Tis written on his very forehead +That love, to him, is a thing abhorréd. +I am so happy on thine arm, +So free, so yielding, and so warm, +And in his presence stifled seems my heart. + +FAUST + +Foreboding angel that thou art! + +MARGARET + +It overcomes me in such degree, +That wheresoe’er he meets us, even, +I feel as though I’d lost my love for thee. +When he is by, I could not pray to Heaven. +That burns within me like a flame, +And surely, Henry, ’tis with thee the same. + +FAUST + +There, now, is thine antipathy! + +MARGARET + +But I must go. + +FAUST + + Ah, shall there never be +A quiet hour, to see us fondly plighted, +With breast to breast, and soul to soul united? + +MARGARET + +Ah, if I only slept alone! +I’d draw the bolts to-night, for thy desire; +But mother’s sleep so light has grown, +And if we were discovered by her, +’Twould be my death upon the spot! + +FAUST + +Thou angel, fear it not! +Here is a phial: in her drink +But three drops of it measure, +And deepest sleep will on her senses sink. + +MARGARET + +What would I not, to give thee pleasure? +It will not harm her, when one tries it? + +FAUST + +If ’twould, my love, would I advise it? + +MARGARET + +Ah, dearest man, if but thy face I see, +I know not what compels me to thy will: +So much have I already done for thee, +That scarcely more is left me to fulfil. + +(_Enter_ MEPHISTOPHELES.) [_Exit_. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +The monkey! Is she gone? + +FAUST + + Hast played the spy again? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I’ve heard, most fully, how she drew thee. +The Doctor has been catechised, ’tis plain; +Great good, I hope, the thing will do thee. +The girls have much desire to ascertain +If one is prim and good, as ancient rules compel: +If there he’s led, they think, he’ll follow them as well. + +FAUST + +Thou, monster, wilt nor see nor own +How this pure soul, of faith so lowly, +So loving and ineffable,— +The faith alone +That her salvation is,—with scruples holy +Pines, lest she hold as lost the man she loves so well! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Thou, full of sensual, super-sensual desire, +A girl by the nose is leading thee. + +FAUST + +Abortion, thou, of filth and fire! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +And then, how masterly she reads physiognomy! +When I am present she’s impressed, she knows not how; +She in my mask a hidden sense would read: +She feels that surely I’m a genius now,— +Perhaps the very Devil, indeed! +Well, well,—to-night—? + +FAUST + + What’s that to thee? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Yet my delight ’twill also be! + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +XVII + + +AT THE FOUNTAIN + +MARGARET _and_ LISBETH _With pitchers_. + +LISBETH + +Hast nothing heard of Barbara? + +MARGARET + +No, not a word. I go so little out. + +LISBETH + +It’s true, Sibylla said, to-day. +She’s played the fool at last, there’s not a doubt. +Such taking-on of airs! + +MARGARET + + How so? + +LISBETH + + It stinks! +She’s feeding two, whene’er she eats and drinks. + +MARGARET + +Ah! + +LISBETH + + And so, at last, it serves her rightly. +She clung to the fellow so long and tightly! +That was a promenading! +At village and dance parading! +As the first they must everywhere shine, +And he treated her always to pies and wine, +And she made a to-do with her face so fine; +So mean and shameless was her behavior, +She took all the presents the fellow gave her. +’Twas kissing and coddling, on and on! +So now, at the end, the flower is gone. + +MARGARET + +The poor, poor thing! + +LISBETH + + Dost pity her, at that? +When one of us at spinning sat, +And mother, nights, ne’er let us out the door +She sported with her paramour. +On the door-bench, in the passage dark, +The length of the time they’d never mark. +So now her head no more she’ll lift, +But do church-penance in her sinner’s shift! + +MARGARET + +He’ll surely take her for his wife. + +LISBETH + +He’d be a fool! A brisk young blade +Has room, elsewhere, to ply his trade. +Besides, he’s gone. + +MARGARET + + That is not fair! + +LISBETH + +If him she gets, why let her beware! +The boys shall dash her wreath on the floor, +And we’ll scatter chaff before her door! + [_Exit_. + +MARGARET (_returning home_) + +How scornfully I once reviled, +When some poor maiden was beguiled! +More speech than any tongue suffices +I craved, to censure others’ vices. +Black as it seemed, I blackened still, +And blacker yet was in my will; +And blessed myself, and boasted high,— +And now—a living sin am I! +Yet—all that drove my heart thereto, +God! was so good, so dear, so true! + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +XVIII + + +DONJON + +(_In a niche of the wall a shrine, with an image of the Mater +Dolorosa. Pots of flowers before it_.) + +MARGARET + +(_putting fresh flowers in the pots_) + + Incline, O Maiden, + Thou sorrow-laden, + Thy gracious countenance upon my pain! + + The sword Thy heart in, + With anguish smarting, + Thou lookest up to where Thy Son is slain! + + Thou seest the Father; + Thy sad sighs gather, + And bear aloft Thy sorrow and His pain! + + Ah, past guessing, + Beyond expressing, + The pangs that wring my flesh and bone! + Why this anxious heart so burneth, + Why it trembleth, why it yearneth, + Knowest Thou, and Thou alone! + + Where’er I go, what sorrow, + What woe, what woe and sorrow + Within my bosom aches! + Alone, and ah! unsleeping, + I’m weeping, weeping, weeping, + The heart within me breaks. + + The pots before my window, + Alas! my tears did wet, + As in the early morning + For thee these flowers I set. + + Within my lonely chamber + The morning sun shone red: + I sat, in utter sorrow, + Already on my bed. + + Help! rescue me from death and stain! + O Maiden! + Thou sorrow-laden, + Incline Thy countenance upon my pain! + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +XIX + + +NIGHT + +STREET BEFORE MARGARET’S DOOR + +VALENTINE (_a soldier_, MARGARET’S _brother_) + +When I have sat at some carouse. +Where each to each his brag allows, +And many a comrade praised to me +His pink of girls right lustily, +With brimming glass that spilled the toast, +And elbows planted as in boast: +I sat in unconcerned repose, +And heard the swagger as it rose. +And stroking then my beard, I’d say, +Smiling, the bumper in my hand: +“Each well enough in her own way. +But is there one in all the land +Like sister Margaret, good as gold,— +One that to her can a candle hold?” +Cling! clang! “Here’s to her!” went around +The board: “He speaks the truth!” cried some; +“In her the flower o’ the sex is found!” +And all the swaggerers were dumb. +And now!—I could tear my hair with vexation. +And dash out my brains in desperation! +With turned-up nose each scamp may face me, +With sneers and stinging taunts disgrace me, +And, like a bankrupt debtor sitting, +A chance-dropped word may set me sweating! +Yet, though I thresh them all together, +I cannot call them liars, either. + +But what comes sneaking, there, to view? +If I mistake not, there are two. +If _he’s_ one, let me at him drive! +He shall not leave the spot alive. + +FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES + +FAUST + +How from the window of the sacristy +Upward th’eternal lamp sends forth a glimmer, +That, lessening side-wards, fainter grows and dimmer, +Till darkness closes from the sky! +The shadows thus within my bosom gather. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I’m like a sentimental tom-cat, rather, +That round the tall fire-ladders sweeps, +And stealthy, then, along the coping creeps: +Quite virtuous, withal, I come, +A little thievish and a little frolicsome. +I feel in every limb the presage +Forerunning the grand Walpurgis-Night: +Day after to-morrow brings its message, +And one keeps watch then with delight. + +FAUST + +Meanwhile, may not the treasure risen be, +Which there, behind, I glimmering see? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Shalt soon experience the pleasure, +To lift the kettle with its treasure. +I lately gave therein a squint— +Saw splendid lion-dollars in ’t. + +FAUST + +Not even a jewel, not a ring, +To deck therewith my darling girl? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I saw, among the rest, a thing +That seemed to be a chain of pearl. + +FAUST + +That’s well, indeed! For painful is it +To bring no gift when her I visit. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Thou shouldst not find it so annoying, +Without return to be enjoying. +Now, while the sky leads forth its starry throng, +Thou’lt hear a masterpiece, no work completer: +I’ll sing her, first, a moral song, +The surer, afterwards, to cheat her. + +(_Sings to the cither_.) + + What dost thou here + In daybreak clear, + Kathrina dear, + Before thy lover’s door? + Beware! the blade + Lets in a maid. + That out a maid + Departeth nevermore! + + The coaxing shun + Of such an one! + When once ’tis done + Good-night to thee, poor thing! + Love’s time is brief: + Unto no thief + Be warm and lief, + But with the wedding-ring! + +VALENTINE (_comes forward_) + +Whom wilt thou lure? God’s-element! +Rat-catching piper, thou!—perdition! +To the Devil, first, the instrument! +To the Devil, then, the curst musician! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +The cither’s smashed! For nothing more ’tis fitting. + +VALENTINE + +There’s yet a skull I must be splitting! + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) + +Sir Doctor, don’t retreat, I pray! +Stand by: I’ll lead, if you’ll but tarry: +Out with your spit, without delay! +You’ve but to lunge, and I will parry. + +VALENTINE + +Then parry that! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + + Why not? ’tis light. +VALENTINE + +That, too! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Of course. + +VALENTINE + +I think the Devil must fight! +How is it, then? my hand’s already lame: + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) + +Thrust home! + +VALENTINE (_jails_) + +O God! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Now is the lubber tame! +But come, away! ’Tis time for us to fly; +For there arises now a murderous cry. +With the police ’twere easy to compound it, +But here the penal court will sift and sound it. + +[_Exit with_ FAUST. + +MARTHA (_at the window_) + +Come out! Come out! + +MARGARET (_at the window_) + +Quick, bring a light! + +MARTHA (_as above_) + +They swear and storm, they yell and fight! + +PEOPLE + +Here lies one dead already—see! + +MARTHA (_coming from the house_) + +The murderers, whither have they run? + +MARGARET (_coming out_) + +Who lies here? + +PEOPLE + +’Tis thy mother’s son! + +MARGARET + +Almighty God! what misery! + +VALENTINE + +I’m dying! That is quickly said, +And quicker yet ’tis done. +Why howl, you women there? Instead, +Come here and listen, every one! + +(_All gather around him_) + +My Margaret, see! still young thou art, +But not the least bit shrewd or smart, +Thy business thus to slight: +So this advice I bid thee heed— +Now that thou art a whore indeed, +Why, be one then, outright! + +MARGARET + +My brother! God! such words to me? + +VALENTINE + +In this game let our Lord God be! +What’s done’s already done, alas! +What follows it, must come to pass. +With one begin’st thou secretly, +Then soon will others come to thee, +And when a dozen thee have known, +Thou’rt also free to all the town. +When Shame is born and first appears, +She is in secret brought to light, +And then they draw the veil of night +Over her head and ears; +Her life, in fact, they’re loath to spare her. +But let her growth and strength display, +She walks abroad unveiled by day, +Yet is not grown a whit the fairer. +The uglier she is to sight, +The more she seeks the day’s broad light. +The time I verily can discern +When all the honest folk will turn +From thee, thou jade! and seek protection +As from a corpse that breeds infection. +Thy guilty heart shall then dismay thee. +When they but look thee in the face:— +Shalt not in a golden chain array thee, +Nor at the altar take thy place! +Shalt not, in lace and ribbons flowing, +Make merry when the dance is going! +But in some corner, woe betide thee! +Among the beggars and cripples hide thee; +And so, though even God forgive, +On earth a damned existence live! + +MARTHA + +Commend your soul to God for pardon, +That you your heart with slander harden! + +VALENTINE + +Thou pimp most infamous, be still! +Could I thy withered body kill, +’Twould bring, for all my sinful pleasure, +Forgiveness in the richest measure. + +MARGARET + +My brother! This is Hell’s own pain! + +VALENTINE + +I tell thee, from thy tears refrain! +When thou from honor didst depart +It stabbed me to the very heart. +Now through the slumber of the grave +I go to God as a soldier brave. + +(_Dies_.) + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +XX + + +CATHEDRAL + +SERVICE, ORGAN _and_ ANTHEM. + +(MARGARET _among much people: the_ EVIL SPIRIT _behind_ +MARGARET.) + +EVIL SPIRIT + +HOW otherwise was it, Margaret, +When thou, still innocent, +Here to the altar cam’st, +And from the worn and fingered book +Thy prayers didst prattle, +Half sport of childhood, +Half God within thee! +Margaret! +Where tends thy thought? +Within thy bosom +What hidden crime? +Pray’st thou for mercy on thy mother’s soul, +That fell asleep to long, long torment, and through thee? +Upon thy threshold whose the blood? +And stirreth not and quickens +Something beneath thy heart, +Thy life disquieting +With most foreboding presence? + +MARGARET + +Woe! woe! +Would I were free from the thoughts +That cross me, drawing hither and thither +Despite me! + +CHORUS + + _Diesira, dies illa, + Solvet soeclum in favilla_! + _(Sound of the organ_.) + +EVIL SPIRIT + +Wrath takes thee! +The trumpet peals! +The graves tremble! +And thy heart +From ashy rest +To fiery torments +Now again requickened, +Throbs to life! + +MARGARET + +Would I were forth! +I feel as if the organ here +My breath takes from me, +My very heart +Dissolved by the anthem! + + +CHORUS + + _Judex ergo cum sedebit, + Quidquid latet, ad parebit, + Nil inultum remanebit_. +MARGARET + +I cannot breathe! +The massy pillars +Imprison me! +The vaulted arches +Crush me!—Air! + +EVIL SPIRIT + +Hide thyself! Sin and shame +Stay never hidden. +Air? Light? +Woe to thee! + +CHORUS + + _Quid sum miser tunc dicturus, + Quem patronem rogaturus, + Cum vix Justus sit securus_? + +EVIL SPIRIT + +They turn their faces, +The glorified, from thee: +The pure, their hands to offer, +Shuddering, refuse thee! +Woe! + +CHORUS + +_Quid sum miser tune dicturus_? + +MARGARET + +Neighbor! your cordial! (_She falls in a swoon_.) + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +XXI + + +WALPURGIS-NIGHT + +THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. + +_District of Schierke and Elend_. + +FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +DOST thou not wish a broomstick-steed’s assistance? +The sturdiest he-goat I would gladly see: +The way we take, our goal is yet some distance. + +FAUST + +So long as in my legs I feel the fresh existence. +This knotted staff suffices me. +What need to shorten so the way? +Along this labyrinth of vales to wander, +Then climb the rocky ramparts yonder, +Wherefrom the fountain flings eternal spray, +Is such delight, my steps would fain delay. +The spring-time stirs within the fragrant birches, +And even the fir-tree feels it now: +Should then our limbs escape its gentle searches? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I notice no such thing, I vow! +’Tis winter still within my body: +Upon my path I wish for frost and snow. +How sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy, +The moon’s lone disk, with its belated glow, +And lights so dimly, that, as one advances, +At every step one strikes a rock or tree! +Let us, then, use a Jack-o’-lantern’s glances: +I see one yonder, burning merrily. +Ho, there! my friend! I’ll levy thine attendance: +Why waste so vainly thy resplendence? +Be kind enough to light us up the steep! + +WILL-O’-THE-WISP + +My reverence, I hope, will me enable +To curb my temperament unstable; +For zigzag courses we are wont to keep. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Indeed? he’d like mankind to imitate! +Now, in the Devil’s name, go straight, +Or I’ll blow out his being’s flickering spark! + +WILL-O’-THE-WISP + +You are the master of the house, I mark, +And I shall try to serve you nicely. +But then, reflect: the mountain’s magic-mad to-day, +And if a will-o’-the-wisp must guide you on the way, +You mustn’t take things too precisely. + +FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, WILL-O’-THE-WISP + +(_in alternating song_) + + We, it seems, have entered newly + In the sphere of dreams enchanted. + Do thy bidding, guide us truly, + That our feet be forwards planted + In the vast, the desert spaces! + See them swiftly changing places, + Trees on trees beside us trooping, + And the crags above us stooping, + And the rocky snouts, outgrowing,— + Hear them snoring, hear them blowing! + O’er the stones, the grasses, flowing + Stream and streamlet seek the hollow. + Hear I noises? songs that follow? + Hear I tender love-petitions? + Voices of those heavenly visions? + Sounds of hope, of love undying! + And the echoes, like traditions + Of old days, come faint and hollow. + + Hoo-hoo! Shoo-hoo! Nearer hover + Jay and screech-owl, and the plover,— + Are they all awake and crying? + Is’t the salamander pushes, + Bloated-bellied, through the bushes? + And the roots, like serpents twisted, + Through the sand and boulders toiling, + Fright us, weirdest links uncoiling + To entrap us, unresisted: + Living knots and gnarls uncanny + Feel with polypus-antennae + For the wanderer. Mice are flying, + Thousand-colored, herd-wise hieing + Through the moss and through the heather! + + And the fire-flies wink and darkle, + Crowded swarms that soar and sparkle, + And in wildering escort gather! + + Tell me, if we still are standing, + Or if further we’re ascending? + All is turning, whirling, blending, + Trees and rocks with grinning faces, + Wandering lights that spin in mazes, + Still increasing and expanding! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Grasp my skirt with heart undaunted! +Here a middle-peak is planted, +Whence one seeth, with amaze, +Mammon in the mountain blaze. + +FAUST + +How strangely glimmers through the hollows +A dreary light, like that of dawn! +Its exhalation tracks and follows +The deepest gorges, faint and wan. +Here steam, there rolling vapor sweepeth; +Here burns the glow through film and haze: +Now like a tender thread it creepeth, +Now like a fountain leaps and plays. +Here winds away, and in a hundred +Divided veins the valley braids: +There, in a corner pressed and sundered, +Itself detaches, spreads and fades. +Here gush the sparkles incandescent +Like scattered showers of golden sand;— +But, see! in all their height, at present, +The rocky ramparts blazing stand. + +[Illustration: _Under the old ribs of the rock retreating_,] + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Has not Sir Mammon grandly lighted +His palace for this festal night? +’Tis lucky thou hast seen the sight; +The boisterous guests approach that were invited. + +FAUST + +How raves the tempest through the air! +With what fierce blows upon my neck ’tis beating! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Under the old ribs of the rock retreating, +Hold fast, lest thou be hurled down the abysses there! +The night with the mist is black; +Hark! how the forests grind and crack! +Frightened, the owlets are scattered: +Hearken! the pillars are shattered. +The evergreen palaces shaking! +Boughs are groaning and breaking, +The tree-trunks terribly thunder, +The roots are twisting asunder! +In frightfully intricate crashing +Each on the other is dashing, +And over the wreck-strewn gorges +The tempest whistles and surges! +Hear’st thou voices higher ringing? +Far away, or nearer singing? +Yes, the mountain’s side along, +Sweeps an infuriate glamouring song! + +WITCHES (_in chorus_) + + The witches ride to the Brocken’s top, + The stubble is yellow, and green the crop. + There gathers the crowd for carnival: + Sir Urian sits over all. + + And so they go over stone and stock; + The witch she——s, and——s the buck. + +A VOICE + + Alone, old Baubo’s coming now; + She rides upon a farrow-sow. + +CHORUS + + Then honor to whom the honor is due! + Dame Baubo first, to lead the crew! + A tough old sow and the mother thereon, + Then follow the witches, every one. + +A VOICE + +Which way com’st thou hither? + +VOICE + +O’er the Ilsen-stone. +I peeped at the owl in her nest alone: +How she stared and glared! + +VOICE + +Betake thee to Hell! +Why so fast and so fell? + +VOICE + +She has scored and has flayed me: +See the wounds she has made me! + +WITCHES (_chorus_) + + The way is wide, the way is long: + See, what a wild and crazy throng! + The broom it scratches, the fork it thrusts, + The child is stifled, the mother bursts. +WIZARDS (_semichorus_) + + As doth the snail in shell, we crawl: + Before us go the women all. + When towards the Devil’s House we tread, + Woman’s a thousand steps ahead. + +OTHER SEMICHORUS + + We do not measure with such care: + Woman in thousand steps is theft. + But howsoe’er she hasten may, + Man in one leap has cleared the way. + +VOICE (_from above_) + +Come on, come on, from Rocky Lake! + +VOICE (_from below_) + +Aloft we’d fain ourselves betake. +We’ve washed, and are bright as ever you will, +Yet we’re eternally sterile still. + +BOTH CHORUSES + + The wind is hushed, the star shoots by. + The dreary moon forsakes the sky; + The magic notes, like spark on spark, + Drizzle, whistling through the dark. + +VOICE (_from below_) + +Halt, there! Ho, there! + +VOICE (_from above_) + +Who calls from the rocky cleft below there? + +VOICE (_below_) + +Take me, too! take me, too! +I’m climbing now three hundred years, +And yet the summit cannot see: +Among my equals I would be. + +BOTH CHORUSES + + Bears the broom and bears the stock, + Bears the fork and bears the buck: + Who cannot raise himself to-night + Is evermore a ruined wight. + +HALF-WITCH (_below_) + +So long I stumble, ill bestead, +And the others are now so far ahead! +At home I’ve neither rest nor cheer, +And yet I cannot gain them here. + +CHORUS OF WITCHES + + To cheer the witch will salve avail; + A rag will answer for a sail; + Each trough a goodly ship supplies; + He ne’er will fly, who now not flies. + +BOTH CHORUSES + + When round the summit whirls our flight, + Then lower, and on the ground alight; + And far and wide the heather press + With witchhood’s swarms of wantonness! + +(_They settle down_.) + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +They crowd and push, they roar and clatter! +They whirl and whistle, pull and chatter! +They shine, and spirt, and stink, and burn! +The true witch-element we learn. +Keep close! or we are parted, in our turn, +Where art thou? + +FAUST (_in the distance_) + +Here! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +What! whirled so far astray? +Then house-right I must use, and clear the way. +Make room! Squire Voland comes! Room, gentle rabble, +room! + +Here, Doctor, hold to me: in one jump we’ll resume +An easier space, and from the crowd be free: +It’s too much, even for the like of me. +Yonder, with special light, there’s something shining clearer +Within those bushes; I’ve a mind to see. +Come on! we’ll slip a little nearer. + +FAUST + +Spirit of Contradiction! On! I’ll follow straight. +’Tis planned most wisely, if I judge aright: +We climb the Brocken’s top in the Walpurgis-Night, +That arbitrarily, here, ourselves we isolate. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +But see, what motley flames among the heather! +There is a lively club together: +In smaller circles one is not alone. + +FAUST + +Better the summit, I must own: +There fire and whirling smoke I see. +They seek the Evil One in wild confusion: +Many enigmas there might find solution. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +But there enigmas also knotted be. +Leave to the multitude their riot! +Here will we house ourselves in quiet. +It is an old, transmitted trade, +That in the greater world the little worlds are made. +I see stark-nude young witches congregate, +And old ones, veiled and hidden shrewdly: +On my account be kind, nor treat them rudely! +The trouble’s small, the fun is great. +I hear the noise of instruments attuning,— +Vile din! yet one must learn to bear the crooning. +Come, come along! It _must_ be, I declare! +I’ll go ahead and introduce thee there, +Thine obligation newly earning. +That is no little space: what say’st thou, friend? +Look yonder! thou canst scarcely see the end: +A hundred fires along the ranks are burning. +They dance, they chat, they cook, they drink, they court: +Now where, just tell me, is there better sport? + +FAUST + +Wilt thou, to introduce us to the revel, +Assume the part of wizard or of devil? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I’m mostly used, ’tis true, to go incognito, +But on a gala-day one may his orders show. +The Garter does not deck my suit, +But honored and at home is here the cloven foot. +Perceiv’st thou yonder snail? It cometh, slow and steady; +So delicately its feelers pry, +That it hath scented me already: +I cannot here disguise me, if I try. +But come! we’ll go from this fire to a newer: +I am the go-between, and thou the wooer. + +(_To some, who are sitting around dying embers_:) + +Old gentlemen, why at the outskirts? Enter! +I’d praise you if I found you snugly in the centre, +With youth and revel round you like a zone: +You each, at home, are quite enough alone. + +GENERAL + +Say, who would put his trust in nations, +Howe’er for them one may have worked and planned? +For with the people, as with women, +Youth always has the upper hand. + +MINISTER + +They’re now too far from what is just and sage. +I praise the old ones, not unduly: +When we were all-in-all, then, truly, +_Then_ was the real golden age. + +PARVENU + +We also were not stupid, either, +And what we should not, often did; +But now all things have from their bases slid, +Just as we meant to hold them fast together. + +AUTHOR + +Who, now, a work of moderate sense will read? +Such works are held as antiquate and mossy; +And as regards the younger folk, indeed, +They never yet have been so pert and saucy. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +(_who all at once appears very old_) + +I feel that men are ripe for Judgment-Day, +Now for the last time I’ve the witches’-hill ascended: +Since to the lees _my_ cask is drained away, +The world’s, as well, must soon be ended. + +HUCKSTER-WITCH + +Ye gentlemen, don’t pass me thus! +Let not the chance neglected be! +Behold my wares attentively: +The stock is rare and various. +And yet, there’s nothing I’ve collected— +No shop, on earth, like this you’ll find!— +Which has not, once, sore hurt inflicted +Upon the world, and on mankind. +No dagger’s here, that set not blood to flowing; +No cup, that hath not once, within a healthy frame +Poured speedy death, in poison glowing: +No gems, that have not brought a maid to shame; +No sword, but severed ties for the unwary, +Or from behind struck down the adversary. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Gossip! the times thou badly comprehendest: +What’s done has happed—what haps, is done! +’Twere better if for novelties thou sendest: +By such alone can we be won. + +FAUST + +Let me not lose myself in all this pother! +This is a fair, as never was another! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +The whirlpool swirls to get above: +Thou’rt shoved thyself, imagining to shove. + +FAUST + +But who is that? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Note her especially, +Tis Lilith. + +FAUST + +Who? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Adam’s first wife is she. +Beware the lure within her lovely tresses, +The splendid sole adornment of her hair! +When she succeeds therewith a youth to snare, +Not soon again she frees him from her jesses. + +FAUST + +Those two, the old one with the young one sitting, +They’ve danced already more than fitting. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +No rest to-night for young or old! +They start another dance: come now, let us take hold! + +FAUST (_dancing with the young witch_) + + A lovely dream once came to me; + I then beheld an apple-tree, + And there two fairest apples shone: + They lured me so, I climbed thereon. + +THE FAIR ONE + + Apples have been desired by you, + Since first in Paradise they grew; + And I am moved with joy, to know + That such within my garden grow. + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_dancing with the old one_) + + A dissolute dream once came to me: + Therein I saw a cloven tree, + Which had a————————; + Yet,——as ’twas, I fancied it. + +THE OLD ONE + + I offer here my best salute + Unto the knight with cloven foot! + Let him a—————prepare, + If him—————————does not scare. + +PROKTOPHANTASMIST + +Accurséd folk! How dare you venture thus? +Had you not, long since, demonstration +That ghosts can’t stand on ordinary foundation? +And now you even dance, like one of us! + +THE FAIR ONE (_dancing_) + +Why does he come, then, to our ball? + +FAUST (_dancing_) + +O, everywhere on him you fall! +When others dance, he weighs the matter: +If he can’t every step bechatter, +Then ’tis the same as were the step not made; +But if you forwards go, his ire is most displayed. +If you would whirl in regular gyration +As he does in his dull old mill, +He’d show, at any rate, good-will,— +Especially if you heard and heeded his hortation. + +PROKTOPHANTASMIST + +You still are here? Nay, ’tis a thing unheard! +Vanish, at once! We’ve said the enlightening word. +The pack of devils by no rules is daunted: +We are so wise, and yet is Tegel haunted. +To clear the folly out, how have I swept and stirred! +Twill ne’er be clean: why, ’tis a thing unheard! + +THE FAIR ONE + +Then cease to bore us at our ball! + +PROKTOPHANTASMIST + +I tell you, spirits, to your face, +I give to spirit-despotism no place; +My spirit cannot practise it at all. + +(_The dance continues_) + +Naught will succeed, I see, amid such revels; +Yet something from a tour I always save, +And hope, before my last step to the grave, +To overcome the poets and the devils. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +He now will seat him in the nearest puddle; +The solace this, whereof he’s most assured: +And when upon his rump the leeches hang and fuddle, +He’ll be of spirits and of Spirit cured. + +(_To_ FAUST, _who has left the dance_:) + +Wherefore forsakest thou the lovely maiden, +That in the dance so sweetly sang? + +FAUST + +Ah! in the midst of it there sprang +A red mouse from her mouth—sufficient reason. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +That’s nothing! One must not so squeamish be; +So the mouse was not gray, enough for thee. +Who’d think of that in love’s selected season? + +FAUST + +Then saw I—. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +What? + +FAUST + +Mephisto, seest thou there, +Alone and far, a girl most pale and fair? +She falters on, her way scarce knowing, +As if with fettered feet that stay her going. +I must confess, it seems to me +As if my kindly Margaret were she. + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Let the thing be! All thence have evil drawn: +It is a magic shape, a lifeless eidolon. +Such to encounter is not good: +Their blank, set stare benumbs the human blood, +And one is almost turned to stone. +Medusa’s tale to thee is known. + +FAUST + +Forsooth, the eyes they are of one whom, dying, +No hand with loving pressure closed; +That is the breast whereon I once was lying,— +The body sweet, beside which I reposed! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Tis magic all, thou fool, seduced so easily! +Unto each man his love she seems to be. + +FAUST + +The woe, the rapture, so ensnare me, +That from her gaze I cannot tear me! +And, strange! around her fairest throat +A single scarlet band is gleaming, +No broader than a knife-blade seeming! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Quite right! The mark I also note. +Her head beneath her arm she’ll sometimes carry; +Twas Perseus lopped it, her old adversary. +Thou crav’st the same illusion still! +Come, let us mount this little hill; +The Prater shows no livelier stir, +And, if they’ve not bewitched my sense, +I verily see a theatre. +What’s going on? + +SERVIBILIS + ’Twill shortly recommence: +A new performance—’tis the last of seven. +To give that number is the custom here: +’Twas by a Dilettante written, +And Dilettanti in the parts appear. +That now I vanish, pardon, I entreat you! +As Dilettante I the curtain raise. + +MEPHISTOPHELES +When I upon the Blocksberg meet you, +I find it good: for that’s your proper place. + + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +XXII + + +WALPURGIS-NIGHT’S DREAM + +OBERON AND TITANIA’s GOLDEN WEDDING + +INTERMEZZO + +MANAGER + +Sons of Mieding, rest to-day! +Needless your machinery: +Misty vale and mountain gray, +That is all the scenery. + +HERALD + +That the wedding golden be. +Must fifty years be rounded: +But _the Golden_ give to me, +When the strife’s compounded. + +OBERON + +Spirits, if you’re here, be seen— +Show yourselves, delighted! +Fairy king and fairy queen, +They are newly plighted. + +PUCK + +Cometh Puck, and, light of limb, +Whisks and whirls in measure: +Come a hundred after him, +To share with him the pleasure. + +ARIEL + +Ariel’s song is heavenly-pure, +His tones are sweet and rare ones: +Though ugly faces he allure, +Yet he allures the fair ones. + +OBERON + +Spouses, who would fain agree, +Learn how we were mated! +If your pairs would loving be, +First be separated! + +TITANIA + +If her whims the wife control, +And the man berate her, +Take him to the Northern Pole, +And her to the Equator! + +ORCHESTRA. TUTTI. + +_Fortissimo_. + +Snout of fly, mosquito-bill, +And kin of all conditions, +Frog in grass, and cricket-trill,— +These are the musicians! + +SOLO + +See the bagpipe on our track! +’Tis the soap-blown bubble: +Hear the _schnecke-schnicke-schnack_ +Through his nostrils double! + +SPIRIT, JUST GROWING INTO FORM + +Spider’s foot and paunch of toad, +And little wings—we know ’em! +A little creature ’twill not be, +But yet, a little poem. + +A LITTLE COUPLE + +Little step and lofty leap +Through honey-dew and fragrance: +You’ll never mount the airy steep +With all your tripping vagrance. + +INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER + +Is’t but masquerading play? +See I with precision? +Oberon, the beauteous fay, +Meets, to-night, my vision! + +ORTHODOX + +Not a claw, no tail I see! +And yet, beyond a cavil, +Like “the Gods of Greece,” must he +Also be a devil. + +NORTHERN ARTIST + +I only seize, with sketchy air, +Some outlines of the tourney; +Yet I betimes myself prepare +For my Italian journey. + +PURIST + +My bad luck brings me here, alas! +How roars the orgy louder! +And of the witches in the mass, +But only two wear powder. + +YOUNG WITCH + +Powder becomes, like petticoat, +A gray and wrinkled noddy; +So I sit naked on my goat, +And show a strapping body. + +MATRON + +We’ve too much tact and policy +To rate with gibes a scolder; +Yet, young and tender though you be, +I hope to see you moulder. + +LEADER OF THE BAND + +Fly-snout and mosquito-bill, +Don’t swarm so round the Naked! +Frog in grass and cricket-trill, +Observe the time, and make it! + +WEATHERCOCK (_towards one side_) + +Society to one’s desire! +Brides only, and the sweetest! +And bachelors of youth and fire. +And prospects the completest! + +WEATHERCOCK (_towards the other side_) + +And if the Earth don’t open now +To swallow up each ranter, +Why, then will I myself, I vow, +Jump into hell instanter! + +XENIES + +Us as little insects see! +With sharpest nippers flitting, +That our Papa Satan we +May honor as is fitting. + +HENNINGS + +How, in crowds together massed, +They are jesting, shameless! +They will even say, at last, +That their hearts are blameless. + +MUSAGETES + +Among this witches’ revelry +His way one gladly loses; +And, truly, it would easier be +Than to command the Muses. + +CI-DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE + +The proper folks one’s talents laud: +Come on, and none shall pass us! +The Blocksberg has a summit broad, +Like Germany’s Parnassus. + +INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER + +Say, who’s the stiff and pompous man? +He walks with haughty paces: +He snuffles all he snuffle can: +“He scents the Jesuits’ traces.” + +CRANE + +Both clear and muddy streams, for me +Are good to fish and sport in: +And thus the pious man you see +With even devils consorting. + +WORLDLING + +Yes, for the pious, I suspect, +All instruments are fitting; +And on the Blocksberg they erect +Full many a place of meeting. + +DANCER + +A newer chorus now succeeds! +I hear the distant drumming. +“Don’t be disturbed! ’tis, in the reeds, +The bittern’s changeless booming.” + +DANCING-MASTER + +How each his legs in nimble trip +Lifts up, and makes a clearance! +The crooked jump, the heavy skip, +Nor care for the appearance. + +GOOD FELLOW + +The rabble by such hate are held, +To maim and slay delights them: +As Orpheus’ lyre the brutes compelled, +The bagpipe here unites them. + +DOGMATIST + +I’ll not be led by any lure +Of doubts or critic-cavils: +The Devil must be something, sure,— +Or how should there be devils? + +IDEALIST + +This once, the fancy wrought in me +Is really too despotic: +Forsooth, if I am all I see, +I must be idiotic! + +REALIST + +This racking fuss on every hand, +It gives me great vexation; +And, for the first time, here I stand +On insecure foundation. + +SUPERNATURALIST + +With much delight I see the play, +And grant to these their merits, +Since from the devils I also may +Infer the better spirits. + +SCEPTIC + +The flame they follow, on and on, +And think they’re near the treasure: +But _Devil_ rhymes with _Doubt_ alone, +So I am here with pleasure. + +LEADER OF THE BAND + +Frog in green, and cricket-trill. +Such dilettants!—perdition! +Fly-snout and mosquito-bill,— +Each one’s a fine musician! + +THE ADROIT + +_Sans souci_, we call the clan +Of merry creatures so, then; +Go a-foot no more we can, +And on our heads we go, then. + +THE AWKWARD + +Once many a bit we sponged, but now, +God help us! that is done with: +Our shoes are all danced out, we trow, +We’ve but naked soles to run with. + +WILL-O’-THE WISPS + +From the marshes we appear, +Where we originated; +Yet in the ranks, at once, we’re here +As glittering gallants rated. + +SHOOTING-STAR + +Darting hither from the sky, +In star and fire light shooting, +Cross-wise now in grass I lie: +Who’ll help me to my footing? + +THE HEAVY FELLOWS + +Room! and round about us, room! +Trodden are the grasses: +Spirits also, spirits come, +And they are bulky masses. + +PUCK + +Enter not so stall-fed quite, +Like elephant-calves about one! +And the heaviest weight to-night +Be Puck, himself, the stout one! + +ARIEL + +If loving Nature at your back, +Or Mind, the wings uncloses, +Follow up my airy track +To the mount of roses! + +ORCHESTRA + +_pianissimo_ +Cloud and trailing mist o’erhead +Are now illuminated: +Air in leaves, and wind in reed, +And all is dissipated. + +[Illustration] + + + + +XXIII + + +DREARY DAY + +A FIELD + +FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES + +FAUST + +In misery! In despair! Long wretchedly astray on the face of the earth, +and now imprisoned! That gracious, ill-starred creature shut in a +dungeon as a criminal, and given up to fearful torments! To this has it +come! to this!—Treacherous, contemptible spirit, and thou hast +concealed it from me!—Stand, then,—stand! Roll the devilish eyes +wrathfully in thy head! Stand and defy me with thine intolerable +presence! Imprisoned! In irretrievable misery! Delivered up to evil +spirits, and to condemning, unfeeling Man! And thou hast lulled me, +meanwhile, with the most insipid dissipations, hast concealed from me +her increasing wretchedness, and suffered her to go helplessly to ruin! +[Illustration: _Roll the devilish eyes wrathfully in thy head_] + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +She is not the first. + +FAUST + +Dog! Abominable monster! Transform him, thou Infinite Spirit! transform +the reptile again into his dog-shape? in which it pleased him often at +night to scamper on before me, to roll himself at the feet of the +unsuspecting wanderer, and hang upon his shoulders when he fell! +Transform him again into his favorite likeness, that he may crawl upon +his belly in the dust before me,—that I may trample him, the outlawed, +under foot! Not the first! O woe! woe which no human soul can grasp, +that more than one being should sink into the depths of this +misery,—that the first, in its writhing death-agony under the eyes of +the Eternal Forgiver, did not expiate the guilt of all others! The +misery of this single one pierces to the very marrow of my life; and +thou art calmly grinning at the fate of thousands! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Now we are already again at the end of our wits, where the understanding +of you men runs wild. Why didst thou enter into fellowship with us, if +thou canst not carry it out? Wilt fly, and art not secure against +dizziness? Did we thrust ourselves upon thee, or thou thyself upon us? + +FAUST + +Gnash not thus thy devouring teeth at me? It fills me with horrible +disgust. Mighty, glorious Spirit, who hast vouchsafed to me Thine +apparition, who knowest my heart and my soul, why fetter me to the +felon-comrade, who feeds on mischief and gluts himself with ruin? + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +Hast thou done? + +FAUST + +Rescue her, or woe to thee! The fearfullest curse be upon thee for +thousands of ages! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I cannot loosen the bonds of the Avenger, nor undo his bolts. Rescue +her? Who was it that plunged her into ruin? I, or thou? + +(FAUST _looks around wildly_.) + +Wilt thou grasp the thunder? Well that it has not been given to you, +miserable mortals! To crush to pieces the innocent respondent—that is +the tyrant-fashion of relieving one’s self in embarrassments. + +FAUST + +Take me thither! She shall be free! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +And the danger to which thou wilt expose thyself? Know that the guilt of +blood, from thy hand, still lies upon the town! Avenging spirits hover +over the spot where the victim fell, and lie in wait for the returning +murderer. + +FAUST + +That, too, from thee? Murder and death of a world upon thee, monster! +Take me thither, I say, and liberate her! + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I will convey thee there; and hear, what I can do! Have I all the power +in Heaven and on Earth? I will becloud the jailer’s senses: get +possession of the key, and lead her forth with human hand! I will keep +watch: the magic steeds are ready, I will carry you off. So much is in +my power. + +FAUST + +Up and away! + +[Illustration] + + + + +XXIV + + +NIGHT + +OPEN FIELD + +(FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES _speeding onward on black horses_.) + + +FAUST + +What weave they there round the raven-stone? + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +I know not what they are brewing and doing. + + +FAUST + +Soaring up, sweeping down, bowing and bending! + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +A witches’-guild. + + +FAUST + +They scatter, devote and doom! + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +On! on! + +[Illustration] + + + + +XXV + + +DUNGEON + +FAUST + +(_with a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door_) + +A shudder, long unfelt, comes o’er me; +Mankind’s collected woe o’erwhelms me, here. +She dwells within the dark, damp walls before me, +And all her crime was a delusion dear! +What! I delay to free her? +I dread, once again to see her? +On! my shrinking but lingers Death more near. + +(_He grasps the lock: the sound of singing is heard inside_.) + + _My mother, the harlot, + Who put me to death; + My father, the varlet, + Who eaten me hath! + Little sister, so good, + Laid my bones in the wood, + In the damp moss and clay:_ + _Then was I a beautiful bird o’ the wood; + Fly away! Fly away_! + +FAUST _(unlocking)_ + +She does not dream her lover listens near; +That he the rattling chain, the rustling straw, can hear. + +_(He enters_.) + +MARGARET (_hiding herself on the pallet_) +Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness! + +FAUST (_whispering_) +Hush! hush! The hour is come that frees thee. + +MARGARET (_throwing herself before him_) +Art thou a man, then pity my distress! + +FAUST +Thy cries will wake the guards, and they will seize thee! +(_He takes hold of the fetters to unlock them_.) + +MARGARET (_on her knees_) + +Who, headsman! unto thee such power +Over me could give? +Thou’rt come for me at midnight-hour: +Have mercy on me, let me live! +Is’t not soon enough when morning chime has run? + +(_She rises_.) + +And I am yet so young, so young! +And now Death comes, and ruin! +I, too, was fair, and that was my undoing. +My love was near, but now he’s far; +Torn lies the wreath, scattered the blossoms are. +Seize me not thus so violently! +Spare me! What have I done to thee? +Let me not vainly entreat thee! +I never chanced, in all my days, to meet thee! + + +FAUST + +Shall I outlive this misery? + + +MARGARET + +Now am I wholly in thy might. +But let me suckle, first, my baby! +I blissed it all this livelong night; +They took ’t away, to vex me, maybe, +And now they say I killed the child outright. +And never shall I be glad again. +They sing songs about me! ’tis bad of the folk to do it! +There’s an old story has the same refrain; +Who bade them so construe it? + + +FAUST (_falling upon his knees_) + +Here lieth one who loves thee ever, +The thraldom of thy woe to sever. + + +MARGARET (_flinging herself beside him_) + +O let us kneel, and call the Saints to hide us! +Under the steps beside us, +The threshold under, +Hell heaves in thunder! +The Evil One +With terrible wrath +Seeketh a path +His prey to discover! + +FAUST (_aloud_) + +Margaret! Margaret! + + +MARGARET (_attentively listening_) + +That was the voice of my lover! + +(_She springs to her feet: the fetters fall off_.) + +Where is he? I heard him call me. +I am free! No one shall enthrall me. +To his neck will I fly, +On his bosom lie! +On the threshold he stood, and _Margaret_! calling, +Midst of Hell’s howling and noises appalling, +Midst of the wrathful, infernal derision, +I knew the sweet sound of the voice of the vision! + + +FAUST + +’Tis I! + +MARGARET + + ’Tis thou! O, say it once again! + + (_Clasping him_.) + +’Tis he! ’tis he! Where now is all my pain? +The anguish of the dungeon, and the chain? +’Tis thou! Thou comest to save me, +And I am saved!— +Again the street I see +Where first I looked on thee; +And the garden, brightly blooming, +Where I and Martha wait thy coming. + + +FAUST (_struggling to leave_) + +Come! Come with me! + + +MARGARET + + Delay, now! +So fain I stay, when thou delayest! + + (_Caressing him_.) + + +FAUST + +Away, now! +If longer here thou stayest, +We shall be made to dearly rue it. + +MARGARET + +Kiss me!—canst no longer do it? +My friend, so short a time thou’rt missing, +And hast unlearned thy kissing? +Why is my heart so anxious, on thy breast? +Where once a heaven thy glances did create me, +A heaven thy loving words expressed, +And thou didst kiss, as thou wouldst suffocate me— +Kiss me! +Or I’ll kiss thee! + +(_She embraces him_.) + +Ah, woe! thy lips are chill, +And still. +How changed in fashion +Thy passion! +Who has done me this ill? + +(_She turns away from him_.) + +FAUST + +Come, follow me! My darling, be more bold: +I’ll clasp thee, soon, with warmth a thousand-fold; +But follow now! ’Tis all I beg of thee. + +MARGARET (_turning to him_) + +And is it thou? Thou, surely, certainly? + +FAUST + +’Tis I! Come on! + +MARGARET + +Thou wilt unloose my chain, +And in thy lap wilt take me once again. +How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?— +Say, dost thou know, my friend, whom thou mak’st free? + +FAUST + +Come! come! The night already vanisheth. + + +MARGARET + +My mother have I put to death; +I’ve drowned the baby born to thee. +Was it not given to thee and me? +Thee, too!—’Tis thou! It scarcely true doth seem— +Give me thy hand! ’Tis not a dream! +Thy dear, dear hand!—But, ah, ’tis wet! +Why, wipe it off! Methinks that yet +There’s blood thereon. +Ah, God! what hast thou done? +Nay, sheathe thy sword at last! +Do not affray me! + + +FAUST + +O, let the past be past! +Thy words will slay me! + + +MARGARET + +No, no! Thou must outlive us. +Now I’ll tell thee the graves to give us: +Thou must begin to-morrow +The work of sorrow! +The best place give to my mother, +Then close at her side my brother, +And me a little away, +But not too very far, I pray! +And here, on my right breast, my baby lay! +Nobody else will lie beside me!— +Ah, within thine arms to hide me, +That was a sweet and a gracious bliss, +But no more, no more can I attain it! +I would force myself on thee and constrain it, +And it seems thou repellest my kiss: +And yet ’tis thou, so good, so kind to see! + + +FAUST + +If thou feel’st it is I, then come with me! + + +MARGARET + +Out yonder? + + +FAUST + +To freedom. + + +MARGARET + + If the grave is there, +Death lying in wait, then come! +From here to eternal rest: +No further step—no, no! +Thou goest away! O Henry, if I could go! + + +FAUST + +Thou canst! Just will it! Open stands the door. + + +MARGARET + +I dare not go: there’s no hope any more. +Why should I fly? They’ll still my steps waylay! +It is so wretched, forced to beg my living, +And a bad conscience sharper misery giving! +It is so wretched, to be strange, forsaken, +And I’d still be followed and taken! + + +FAUST + +I’ll stay with thee. + + +MARGARET + +Be quick! Be quick! +Save thy perishing child! +Away! Follow the ridge +Up by the brook, + +[Illustration: _=If the grave is there, +Death lying in wait, then come=_!] + +Over the bridge, +Into the wood, +To the left, where the plank is placed +In the pool! +Seize it in haste! +’Tis trying to rise, +’Tis struggling still! +Save it! Save it! + + +FAUST + +Recall thy wandering will! +One step, and thou art free at last! + + +MARGARET + +If the mountain we had only passed! +There sits my mother upon a stone,— +I feel an icy shiver! +There sits my mother upon a stone, +And her head is wagging ever. +She beckons, she nods not, her heavy head falls o’er; +She slept so long that she wakes no more. +She slept, while we were caressing: +Ah, those were the days of blessing! + + +FAUST + +Here words and prayers are nothing worth; +I’ll venture, then, to bear thee forth. + + +MARGARET + +No—let me go! I’ll suffer no force! +Grasp me not so murderously! +I’ve done, else, all things for the love of thee. + + +FAUST + +The day dawns: Dearest! Dearest! + +MARGARET + +Day? Yes, the day comes,—the last day breaks for me! +My wedding-day it was to be! +Tell no one thou has been with Margaret! +Woe for my garland! The chances +Are over—’tis all in vain! +We shall meet once again, +But not at the dances! +The crowd is thronging, no word is spoken: +The square below +And the streets overflow: +The death-bell tolls, the wand is broken. +I am seized, and bound, and delivered— +Shoved to the block—they give the sign! +Now over each neck has quivered +The blade that is quivering over mine. +Dumb lies the world like the grave! + +FAUST + +O had I ne’er been born! + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_appears outside_) + +Off! or you’re lost ere morn. +Useless talking, delaying and praying! +My horses are neighing: +The morning twilight is near. + +MARGARET + +What rises up from the threshold here? +He! he! suffer him not! +What does he want in this holy spot? +He seeks me! + + +FAUST + +Thou shalt live. + +MARGARET + +Judgment of God! myself to thee I give. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) + +Come! or I’ll leave her in the lurch, and thee! + + +MARGARET + +Thine am I, Father! rescue me! +Ye angels, holy cohorts, guard me, +Camp around, and from evil ward me! +Henry! I shudder to think of thee. + + +MEPHISTOPHELES + +She is judged! + + +VOICE (_from above_) + + She is saved! + + +MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) + + Hither to me! + +(_He disappears with_ FAUST.) + + +VOICE (_from within, dying away_) + +Henry! Henry! + +[illustration] + +[Illustration] + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14591 *** |