CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY arY327 Faust, Cornell University Library 3 1924 032 171 120 olin.anx '^1 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924032171120 ^ rf^ii^. V r / DRAMATIS PERSONS. Chara5iers in the Prologue for the Theatre. The Manager. The Dramatic Poet. Merryman. UiaraRers in the Prologue in Heaven. The Lord. Raphael 1 Gabriel !• The Heavenly Host. Michael J Mephistopheles. Chara^ers in the Tragedy. Faust. Mephistopheles. Wagner, a Student. Margaret. Martha, Margaret' s neighbor. Valentine, Margaret' s brother. Old Peasant. A Student. Elizabeth, an acquaintance of Margaret' s. Frosch Brander Siebel Altma\'er , Guests in AuerbacK s wine-cellar. Witches, old and young; Wizards, Will-o'-the-wisp, Witch Pedler, Protophantasmist, Servibilis, Monkeys, Spirits, Journeymen, Country-folk, Citizens, Beggar, Old Fortune- teller, Shepherd, Soldier, Students, etc. In the Intermezzo. Oberon. I Ariel. Titania. I Puck, etc., etc. DEDICATION. DIM forms, ye hover near, a shadowy train, As erst upon my troubl'd sight ye stole. Say, shall I strive to hold you once again ? Still for the fond illusion yearns my soul? Ye press around ! Come, then, resume your reign, As upwards from the vapory mist ye roll ; Within my breast youth's throbbing pulses | bound, Fann'd by the magic air that breathes your march around. Shades fondly lov'd appear, your train at- tending. And visions fair of many a blissful day ; First-love and friendship their fond accents blending, Like to some ancient, half expiring lay ; Sorrow revives, her wail of anguish sending Back o'er life's devious labyrinthine way, The dear ones naming who, in life's fair morn. By Fate beguiled, from my embrace were torn. They hearken not unto my later song. The souls to whom my earlier lays I sang ; Dispers'd for ever is the friendly throng, Mute are the voices that responsive rang. My song resoundeth stranger crowds among, E'en their applause is to my heart a pang ; And those who heard me once with joyful heart, If yet they live, now wander far apart. A strange unwonted yearning doth my soul, To yon calm solemn spirit-land, upraise ; In faltering cadence now mv numbers roll, As when, on harp yEolian, Zephvr plays ; My pulses thrill, tears flow without control, A tender mood my steadfa.st heart o'ersways ; What I possess as from afar I see ; Those I have lost become realities to me. PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE. Manager. Dramatic Poet. Merrvman. Manager. Ye twain, wliom I so oft have found True friends in trouble and distress, Sa\', in our scheme on German ground, \\'hat ]irospe(fl have we of success? Fain would I ]ilease the public, win their thanks ; Because they Hve and let live, as is meet. The posts are now erefted and the planks. And all look forward to a festal treat. Tlieir places taken, they, with eyebrows rais'd, Sit patientiv, and fain would be amaz'd. I know the art to hit the public taste, Yet so f)er])lex'd I ne'er have been before ; 'Tis true, they're not accustom'd to the best, But then they read immensely, that's the bore. How make our entertainment striking, new, And yet significant and pleasing too? For to be plain, I love to see the throng, As to our booth the living tide progresses; As wave on wave successive rolls along, And through heaven's narrow portal forceful presses ; Still in broad daylight, ere the clock strikes four, With blows their way towards the box they take ; And, as for bread in famine, at the baker's door, For tickets are content their necks to break. Such various minds the bard alone can sway, My friend, oh work this miracle to-day ! Poet. Oh speak not of the motley multi- tude. At whose aspect the spirit wings its flight ; ARTIST : FRANZ SIMM. FAUST. FIRST PART, THE VIRION OF FAUST. Shut out the noisy crowd, whose vortex rude Still draws us downward with resistless might. Lead to some nook, where silence loves to brood. Where only for the bard blooms pure delight. Where love and friendship, gracious heavenly pair. Our hearts true bliss create, and tend with fostering care. What there up-welleth deep within the breast, What there the timid lip shap'd forth in. sound, A failure now, now haply well express'd In the wild tumult of the hour is drown'd ; Oft doth the perfedl form then first invest The poet's thought, when years have sped their round ; What dazzles satisfies the present hour. The genuine lives, of coming years the dower. Merryman. This cant about posterity I hate ; About posterity were I to prate, Who then the living would amuse ? For they Will have diversion, ay, and 'tis their due. A sprightly fellow's presence at your play, Methinks, should always go for something too ; Whose genial wit the audience still inspires. Is not embittered by its changeful mood ; A wider circle he desires. To move with greater power, the multitude. To work, then ! Prove a master in your art ! Let phantasy with all her choral train. Sense, reason, feeling, passion, bear their part. But mark ! let folly also mingle in the strain ! Manager. And, chief, let incidents enough arise ! A show they want; they come to feast their eyes. When stirring scenes before them are dis- play'd, At which the gaping crowd may wondering gaze, Your reputation is already made, The man you are all love to praise. The masses you alone through masses can subdue. Each then seledls in time what suits his bent. Bring much, you somewhat bring to not a few. And from the house goes every one content. You give a piece, in pieces give it, friend ! Such a ragout, success must needs attend ; 'Tis easy to serve up, as easy to invent. A finish'd whole what boots it to present ! 'Twill be in pieces by the public rent. Poet. How mean such handicraft as this you cannot feel ! How it revolts the genuine artist's mind ! The sorry trash in which these coxcombs deal, Is here approved on principle, I find. Manager. Such a reproof disturbs me not a whit ! Who on efficient work is bent. Must choose the fittest instrument. ' Consider ! 'tis soft wood you have to split ; Think too for whom you write, I pray ! One comes to while an hour away ; One from the festive board, a sated guest ; Others, more dreaded than the rest, From journal -reading hurry to the play. As to a masquerade, with absent minds, they press, Sheer curiosity their footsteps winging ; Ladies display their persons and their dress, A6tors unpaid their service bringing. What dreams beguile you on your poet's height ? What puts a full house in a merry mood ? More closely view your patrons of the night ! The half are cold, the other half are rude. One, the play over, craves a game of cards ; Another a wild night in wanton joy would spend. Poor fool, the muses' fair regards Why court for such a paltry end ? I tell you, give them more, still more, 'tis all I ask. Thus you will ne'er stray widely from the goal ; Your audience seek to mystify, cajole ; — To satisfy them — that's a harder task. What ails thee? art enraptur'd or distress'd ? Poet. Depart ! elsewhere another servant choose ! What ! shall the bard his godlike power abuse? Man's loftiest right, kind nature's high bequest, For your mean purpose basely sport away ? Whence comes his mastery o'er the human breast. Whence o'er the elements his sway. But from the harmony that, gushing from his soul. Draws back into his heart the wondrous whole ? When round her spindle, with unceasing drone. Nature still whirls th' unending thread of life; When Being's jarring crowds, together thrown. Mingle in harsh inextricable strife ; Who deals their course unvari'd till it falls. In rhythmic flow to music's measur'd tone? Each solitary note whose genius calls, To swell the mighty choir in unison ? 7 ^M^^^^^^^^^^ a^ir^^^gxg;^':S^j::T<>^v BS.««,, Faust. ^r *~T Who in the raging storm sees passion lour, Or flush of earnest thought in evening's glow, Who, in the springtide, every fairest flower Along the lov'd one's path would strow? From green and common leaves whose hand doth twine, The wreath of glory, won in every field ? Makes sure Olympos, blends the powers di- vine ? — Man's mighty spirit, in the bard reveal'd ! Merryman. Come then, employ your lofty inspiration. And carry on the poet's avocation. Just as we carry on a love affair. Two meet by chance, are pleas'd they linger there. Insensibly are link'd, they scarce know how; Fortune seems now propitious, adverse now, Then come alternate rapture and despair ; And 'tis a true romance ere one's aware. Just such a drama let us now compose. Plunge boldly into life — its depths disclose ! Each lives it, not to many is it known, 'Twill interest wheresoever seiz'd and shown ; Bright pidlures, but obscure their meaning: A ray of truth through error gleaming. Thus you the best elixir brew. To charm mankind, and edify them too. Then youth's fair blossoms crowd to view your play. And wait as on an oracle ; while they. The tender souls, who love the melting mood. Suck from your work their melancholy food ; Now this one, and now that, you deeply stir. Each sees the working of his heart laid bare ; Their tears, their laughter, you command with ease. The lofty still they honor, the illusive love, Your finish'd gentlemen you ne'er can please; A growing mind alone will grateful prove. Poet. Then give me back youth's golden prime, When my own spirit too was growing, When from my heart th' unbidden rhyme Gush'd forth, a fount for ever flowing; Then shadowy mist the world conceal'd. And every bud sweet promise made, Of wonders yet to be reveal'd. As through the vales, with blooms inlaid. Culling a thousand flowers I stray'd. Naught had I, yet a rich profusion ; The thirst for truth, joy in each fond illusion. Give me unquell'd those impulses to prove ; — Rapture so deep, its ecstasy was pain. The power of hate, the energy of love, Give me, oh give me back my youth again ! Merryman. Youth, my good friend, you certainly require When foes in battle round you press, When a fair maid, her heart on fire. Hangs on your neck with fond caress. When from afar, the viflor's crown, Allures you in the race to run ; Or when in revelry you drown Your sense, the whirling dance being done. But the familiar chords among Boldly to sweep, with graceful cunning, While to its goal, the verse along Its winding path is sweetly running ; This task is yours, old gentlemen, to-day ; Nor are you therefore in less reverence held ; Age does not make us childish, as folk say. It finds us genuine children e'en in eld. Manager. A truce to words, mere empty sound, Let deeds at length appear, my friends ! While idle compliments you round, You might achieve some useful ends. Why talk of the poetic vein ? Who hesitates will never know it; If bards ye are, as ye maintain. Now let your inspiration show it. To you is known what we require, Strong drink to sip is our desire ; Come, brew me such without delay ! To-morrow sees undone, what happens not to- day; Still forward press, nor ever tire ! The possible, with steadfast trust. Resolve should by the forelock grasp ; Then she will ne'er let go her clasp, And labors on, because she must. On German boards, you're well aware, The taste of each may have full sway ; Therefore in bringing out your play, Nor scenes nor mechanism spare ! Heaven's lamps employ, the greatest and the least. Be lavish of the stellar lights. Water, and fire, and rocky heights. Spare not at all, nor birds nor beast. Thus let creation's ample sphere Forthwith in this our narrow booth appear. And with considerate speed, through fancy's spell, Journey from heaven, thence through the world, to hell ! PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. The Lord. The Heavenly Hosts. After- wards Mephistopheles. The three Archangels come forward. Raphael. Still quiring as in ancient time With brother spheres in rival song, The sun with thunder-march sublime Moves his predestin'd course along. Angels are strengthen'd by his sight, Though fathom him no angel may; Resplendent are the orbs of light. As on creation's primal day. Gabriel. And lightly spins earth's gor- geous sphere, Swifter than thought its rapid flight ; Alternates Eden-brightness clear. With solemn, dread-inspiring night; The foaming waves, with murmurs hoarse, Against the rocks' deep base are hurl'd; And in the sphere's eternal course Are rocks and ocean swiftly whirl'd. Michael. And rival tempests rush amain From sea to land, from land to sea, And raging form a wondrous chain Of deep mysterious agency ; Full in the thunder's fierce career, Flaming the swift destru6tions play; But, Lord, thy messengers revere The mild procession of thy day. The Three. Angels are strengthened by thy sight. Though fathom thee no angel may ; Thy works still shine with splendor bright. As on creation's primal day. Mephistopheles. Since thou, Lord, ap- proachest us once more, And how it fares with us, to ask art fain, Since thou hast kindly welcom'd me of yore, Thou seest me also now among thy train. Excuse me, fine harangues I cannot make. Though all the circle look on me with scorn ; My pathos soon thy laughter would awake, Hadst thou the laughing mood not long for- sworn. Of suns and worlds I nothing have to say, I see alone mankind's self-torturing pains. The little world-god still the self-same stamp retains. And is as wondrous now as on the primal day. Better he might have fared, poor wight, Hadst thou not given him a gleam of heavenly light; Reason he names it, and doth so Use it, than brutes more brutish still to grow. With deference to your grace, he seems to me Like any long-legged grasshopper to be. Which ever flies, and flying springs. And in the grass its ancient ditty sings. Would he but always in the grass repose In every heap of dung he thrusts his nose. The Lord. Hast thou naught else to say? Is blame In coming here, as ever, thy sole aim ? Does nothing on the earth to thee seem right? Mephis. No, Lord ! I find things there in miserable plight. Men's wretchedness in sooth I so deplore. Not even I would plague the sorry creatures more. The Lord. Know'st tbou my servant, Faust ? Mephis. Thedoaor? The Lord. Right. Mephis. He serves thee in strange fashion, as I think. Poor fool ! Not earthly is his food or drink. An inward impulse hurries him afar. Himself half conscious of his frenzied mood; From heaven claimeth he its brightest star. And from the earth craves every highest good, And all that's near, and all that's far. Fails to allay the tumult in his blood. The Lord. Though now he serves me with imperfeft sight, I will ere long conduS him to the light. The gard'ner knoweth, when the green ap- pears. That flowers and fruit will crown the coming Mephis. What wilt thou wager? Him thou yet shalt lose. If leave to me thou wilt but give, Gently to lead him as I choose ! The Lord. So long as he on earth doth live, So long 'tis not forbidden thee. Man still must err, while he doth strive. Mephis. I thank you ; for not willingly I traffic with the dead, and still aver That youth's plump blooming cheek I very much prefer. I'm not at home to corpses; 'tis my way. Like cats with captive mice to toy and play. The Lord. Enough ! 'tis granted thee I Divert This mortal spirit from his primal source ; Him, canst thou seize, thy power exert And lead him on thy downward course, Then stand abash' d, when thou perforce must own, A good man, in the direful grasp of ill. His consciousness of right retaineth still. Mephis. Agreed ! — the wager will bfe quickly won. For my success no fears I entertain ; And if my end I finally should gain. Excuse my triumphing with all my soul. Dust he shall eat, ay, and with relish take. As did my cousin, the renowned snake. The Lord. Here too thou'rt free to adl without control ; I ne'er have cherished hate for such as thee. Of all the spirits who deny, The scoffer is least wearisome to me. Ever too prone is man adtivity to shirk. In uncondition'd rest he fain would live ; Hence this companion purposely I give. Who stirs, excites, and must, as devil, work. But ye, the genuine sons of heaven, rejoice ! In the full living beauty still rejoice ! May that which works and lives, the ever- growing, In bonds of love enfold you, mercy-fraught. And Seeming' s changeful forms, around you flowing. Do ye arrest, in ever-during thought ! [Heaven closes, the Archangels disperse. M.-E.v\iii.. (Alone.) The ancient one I like sometimes to see, And not to break with him am always civil ; "Tis courteous in so great a lord as he, To speak so kindly even to the devil. A hii:;h vaulted narrow Gothic chamber. Faust, restless, seated at his desk. RE have I, alas ! Phil- osophy, \Iedicine, Jurisprudence too, And to my cost Theology, With ardent labor, studied througli. And yet I stand, with all my lore, Poor fool, no wiser than be- fore. Magister, doctor styled, indeed, Already these ten years I lead, Up, down, across, and to and fro. My pupils by the nose, — and learn, That we in truth can nothing know ! This in my lieart like fire doth burn. 'Tis true, I've more cunning than all your dull tribe, Magister and doctor, priest, parson, and scribe ; Scruple or doubt comes not to enthrall me. Neither can devil nor hell now appall me — Hence also my heart must all pleasure forego ! I may not pretend, aught rightly to know, I rnay not pretend, through teaching, to find A means to improve or convert mankind. Then I have neither goods nor treasure, No worldly honor, rank, or pleasure ; No dog in such fashion would longer live ! Therefore myself to magic I give, In hope, through spirit-voice and might. Secrets now veiled to bring to light, That I no more, with aching brow. Need speak of what I nothing know; That I the force may recognize That binds creation's inmost energies; Her vital powers, her embryo seeds survey. And fling the trade in empty words away. O full-orb'd moon, did but thy rays Their last upon mine anguish gaze ! Beside this desk, at dead of night, 13 Oft have I watch'd to hail thy light : Then, pensive friend ! o'er book and scroll, With soothing power, thy radiance stole ! In thy dear light, ah, might I climb, Freely, some mountain height sublime. Round mountain caves with spirits ride. In thy mild haze o'er meadows glide. And, purg'd from knowledge-fumes, renew My spirit, in thy healing dew ! Woe's me ! still prison' d in the gloom Of thisabhorr'd and musty room, ^\'here heaven's dear light itself doth pass, But dimly through the painted glass ! Hemmed in by volumes thick with dust, A prey to worms and mouldering rust. And to the high vault's topmost bound. With smoky paper compass'd round ; With boxes round thee pil'd, and glass, And many a useless instrument. With old ancestral lumber blent — This is thy world ! a world ! alas ! And dost thou ask why heaves thy heart. With tighten'd pressure in thy breast? Why the dull ache will not depart. By which thy life-pulse is oppress'd ? Instead of nature's living sphere. Created for mankind of old, Brtite skeletons surround thee here. And dead men's bones in smoke and mould. Up ! Forth into the distant land ! Is not this book of mystery By Nostradamus' proper hand. An all-sufficient guide? Thou' It see The courses of the stars unroll'd ; When nature doth her thoughts unfold To thee, thy soul shall rise, and seek Communion high with her to hold. As spirit doth with spirit speak ! Vain by dull poring to divine The meaning of each hallow'd sign. Spirits ! I feel you hov'ring near ; Make answer, if my voice ye hear ! \He opens the book and perceives the sign of the Macrocosmos. AIt ! at this speftacle through every sense. What sudden ecstasy of joy is flowing ! I feel new rapture, hallow'd and intense, Through every nerve and vein with ardor glowing. Was it a god who chara6ler'd this scroll, AMiich doth the inward tumult still. The troubled heart with rapture fill. And by a mystic impulse, to my soul, Unveils the working of the wondrous whole ? Am I a God ? What light intense ! In these pure symbols do I see Nature exert her vital energy. Now of the wise man's words I learn the sense : "Unlock'd the spirit-world doth lie ; Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead ! Up, scholar ! lave, with courage high. Thine earthly breast in the morning-red !" \He contemplates the sign. How all things live and work, and ever blending. Weave one vast whole from Being's ample range ! How powers celestial, rising and descending. Their golden buckets ceaseless interchange ! Their flight on rapture-breathing pinions winging. From heaven to earth their genial influence bringing. Through the wide sphere their chimes melo- dious ringing ! A wondrous show ! but ah ! a show alone ! Where shall I grasp thee, infinite nature, where ? Ye breasts, )'e fountains of all life, whereon Hang heaven and earth, from which the wither'd heart For solace yearns, ye still impart Your sweet and fostering tides — where are ye — where ? Ye gush, and must I languish in despair? \He turns over the leaves of the book im- patiently, and perceives the sign of the Earth-spirit. How all unlike the influence of this sign ! Earth-spirit, thou to me art nigher, E'en now my strength is rising higher. E'en now I glow as with new wine ; Courage I feel, abroad the world to dare. The woe of earth, the bliss of earth to bear. To mingle with the lightning's glare, And mid the crashing shipwreck not despair. Clouds gather over me — The moon conceals her light — The lamp is quench'd — Vapors are rising — Quiv'ring round my head Flash the red beams — Down from the vaulted roof A shuddering horror floats, And seizes me ! I feel it, spirit, prayer-compell'd, 'tis thou 14 ARTIST : FRANZ SIMM. FAUST. FIRST PART. THE SPIRIT APPEARING TO FAUST. Art hovering near ! Unveil thyself! Ha ! How my heart is riven now ! Each sense, with eager palpitation, Is strain'd to catch some new sensation ! I feel my heart surrender'd unto thee ! Thou must ! Thou must ! Though life should be the fee ! [ZTif seizes the book, and pronounces mys- teriously the sign of the spirit. A ruddy flame flashes up ; the spirit appears in the flame. Spirit. Who calls me ? Faust. (Turning aside.) Dreadful shape ! Spirit. With might. Thou hast compell'd me to appear, Long hast been sucking at my sphere, And now — Faust. Woe's me ! I cannot bear thy sight. Spirit. To know me thou didst breathe thy prayer. My voice to hear, to gaze upon my brow ; Me doth thy strong entreaty bow — Lo ! I am here ! — What pitiful despair Grasps thee, the demigod! Where's now the soul's deep cry? Where is the breast which in its depths a world conceiv'd And bore and cherish'd; which, with ecstasy. To rank itself with us, the spirits, heav'd? Where art thou, Faust? whose voice I heard resound, Who towards me press'd with energy pro- found ? Art thou he? Thou — whom thus my breath can blight, Whose inmost being with affright Trembles, a crush'd and writhing worm ! Faust. Shall I yield, thing of flame, to thee? Faust, and thine equal, I am he ! Spirit. In the currents of life, in action's storm, I float and I wave With billowy motion ! Birth and the grave, A limitless ocean, A constant weaving, With change still rife, A restless heaving, A glowing life — Thus time's whirring loom unceasing I ply. And weave the life-garment of deity. Faust. Thou, restless spirit, dost from end to end 2—3 O'ersweep the world ; how near I feel to thee ! Spirit. Thou'rt like the spirit, thou dost comprehend, Not me ! [ Vanishes. Faust. (Deeply moved.) Not thee? Whom then? I, God's own image ! And not rank with thee ! \A knock. O death ! I know it — ' tis my famulus — My fairest fortune now escapes ! That all these visionary shapes A soulless groveller should banish thus ! [Wagner in his dressing-gown and night- cap, a lamp in his hand. Faust tiirns round reluflantly . Wagner. Pardon ! I heard you here de- claim ; A Grecian tragedy you doubtless read ? Improvement in this art is now my aim. For now-a-days it much avails. Indeed An actor, oft I've heard it said at least. May give instru6lion even to a priest. Faust. Ay, if your priest should be an actor too, As not improbably may come to pass. Wagner. When in his study pent the whole year through, Man views the world as through an optic glass. On a chance holiday, and scarcely then. How by persuasion can he govern men ? Faust. If feeling prompt not, if it doth not flow Fresh from the spirit's depths, with strong control Swaying to rapture every listener's soul. Idle your toil ; the chase you may forego ! Brood o'er your task ! Together glue. Cook fi-om another's feast your own ragout. Still prosecute your paltry game. And fan your ash-heaps into flame I Thus children's wonder you'll excite, And apes', if such your appetite : But that which issues from the heart alone Will bend the hearts of others to your own. Wagner. The speaker in dehvery will find Success alone; I still am far behind. Faust. A worthy obje6l still pursue ! Be not a hollow tinkling fool ! Sound understanding, judgment true, Find utterance without art or rule; And when with earnestness you speak. Then is it needful cunning words to seek? Your fine harangues, so polish'd in their kind, Wherein the shreds of human thought ye twist, Are unrefreshing as the empty wind, IS Whistling tlirough wither'd leaves and antumn \ And what a glorious height we have achiev'd mist ! Wai;nek, U Heavens! art is long and life is short ! Still as I prosecute with earnest zeal The critic's toil, I'm haunted by this thought, And \ague misgivings o'er my spirit steal. Tlie \er) means how hardly are they won at last. Faust. Ay truly ! even to the loftiest star ! To us, my friend, the ages that are pass'd A book with seven seals, close-fasten 'd, are; And what the spirit of the times men call, Is merely their own spirit after all, Wherein, distorted oft, the times are glass'd. Qi')ij.yt.' ^:'j:k'. fyf." *** By which we to the fountains rise! And, haply, ere one half the course is run, Check'd in his progress, the poor devil lies. Faust. Parchment, is that the sacred fount \\'hence roll Waters, he tliirsteth not who once hath fiuaffed ? Oh, it it gush not froiri thine inmost soul, Thou hast not won the life-restoring draught. Waonek. Your pardon ! 'tis delightfii^l to transport One's self inti) the spirit of the ])ast. To see in times before us how a wise man thou"lit, Then truly, 'tis a sight to grieve the soul ! At the first glance we Hy it in dismay; A very lumber-room, a rubbish-hole; At best a sort of mock-heroic plav. With saws pragmatical, and maxims sage. To suit the pu]jpets and their mimic stage. W^ACNEK. IJut then the world and man, his heart and brain ! Touching these things all men would some- thing know. Faust. Ay ! what 'mong men as knowl- edge doth obtain ! Who on the child its true name dares bestow? i6 Faust. First Part. . '^-s^-' «»' The few who somewhat of these things have known, Who their full hearts unguardedly reveal' d, Nor thoughts nor feelings from the mob con- ceal' d, Have died on crosses, or in flames been thrown. — Excuse me, friend, far now the night is spent. For this time we must say adieu. Wagner. Still to watch on I had been well content, Thus to converse so learnedly with you. But as to-morrow will be Easter-day, Some further questions grant, I pray ; With diligence to study still I fondly cling ; Already I know much, bi^t would know every- thing. \Exit. Faust. {Alone.') How he alone is ne'er bereft of hope. Who clings to tasteless trash with zeal untir'd, Who doth, with greedy hand, for treasure grope. And finding earth-worms, is with joy inspir'd ! And dare a voice of merely human birth. E'en here, where shapes immortal throng'd, intrude? Yet ah ! thou poorest of the sons of earth. For once, I e'en to thee feel gratitude. Despair the power of sense did well-nigh blast. And thou didst save me ere I sank dismay' d; So giant-like the vision seem'd, so vast, I felt myself shrink dwarf 'd as I survey'd ! I, God's own image, from this toil of clay Already freed, with eager joy who hail'd The mirror of eternal truth unveil' d. Mid light effulgent and celestial day — I, more than cherub, whose unfetter' d soul With penetrative glance aspir'd to flow Through nature's veins, and, still creating, know The life of gods, — how am I punish'd now! One thunder- word hath hurl'd me from the goal ! Spirit ! I dare not lift me to thy sphere. What though my power compell'd thee to ap- pear, My art was powerless to detain thee here. In that great moment, rapture-fraught, I felt myself so small, so great ; Fiercely didst thrust me from the realm of thought Back on humanity's uncertain fate ! Who'll teach me now? What ought I to forego? Ought I that impulse to obey? Alas ! our every deed, as well as every woe. Impedes the tenor of life's onward way ! E'en to the noblest by the soul conceiv'd. Some feelings cling of baser quality ; And when the goods of this world are achiev'd. Each nobler aim is term'd a cheat, a lie. Our aspirations, our soul's genuine life, Grow torpid in the din of earthly strife. Though youthful phantasy, while hope in- spires. Stretch o'er the infinite her wing sublime, A narrow compass limits her desires, When wreck'd our fortunes in the gulf of time. In the deep heart of man care builds her nest. O'er secret woes she broodeth there, Sleepless she rocks herself and scareth joy and rest; Still is she wont some new disguise to wear; She may as house and court, as wife and child appear. As dagger, poison, fire and flood ; Imagin'd evils chill thy blood. And what thou ne'er shall lose, o'er that dost shed the tear. I am not like the gods ! Feel it I must ; I'm like the earth-worm, writhing in the dust. Which, as on dust it feeds, its native fare, Crush'd 'neath the passer's tread, lies buried there. Is it not dust, wherewith this lofty wall. With hundred shelves, confines me round. Rubbish, in thousand shapes, may I not call What in this moth-world doth my being bound ? Here, what doth fail me, shall I find ? Read in a thousand tomes that, everywhere, Self-torture is the lot of human-kind, With but one mortal happy, here and there? Thou hollow skull, that grin, what should it say, But that thy brain, like mme, of old per- plex'd. Still yearning for the truth, hath sought the light of day. And in the twiHght wander'd, sorely vex'd? Ye instruments, forsooth, ye mock at me, — With wheel, and cog, and ring, and cylinder ; To nature's portals ye should be the key; Cunning your wards, and yet the bolts ye fail to stir. Inscrutable in broadest light. 17 ^^ -*■ »^^«»-» -»g- ■ JJ-^w —rr Faust. First Part. To be unveil'd by force she doth refuse, What she reveals not to thy mental sight, Thou wilt not wrest from her with levers and with screws. Old useless furnitures, yet stand ye here, lierause my sire ye serv'd, now dead and gone. Old scroll, the smoke of years dost wear. So long as o'er this desk the sorry lamp hath shone. Better my little means have squander'd quite away. Than burden 'd by that little here to sweat and groan ! Wouldst thou possess thy heritage, essay. By use to render it thine own 1 What we employ not, but impedes our way, That which the hour creates, that can it use alone ! But wherefore to yon spot is riveted my gaze? Is yonder flaskert there a magnet to my sight ? Whence this mild radiance that around me plays, As when, 'mid forest gloom, reigneth the moon's soft light? Hail, precious phial ! Thee, with reverent awe, Down from thine old receptacle I draw ! Science in thee I hail and human art. Essence of deadliest powers, refin'd and sure. Of soothing anodynes abstradtion pure, Now in thy master's need thy grace impart ! I gaze on thee, my pain is luU'd to rest ; I grasp thee, calm'd the tumult in my breast ; The flood-tide of my spirit ebbs away; Onward I'm summon'd o'er a boundless main, Calm at my feet expands the glassy plain. To shores unknown allures a brighter day. Lo, where a car of fire, on airy pinion. Comes floating towards me ! I'm prepar'd to fly By a new track through ether's wide dominion, To distant spheres of pure adlivity. This life intense, this godlike ecstasy — Worm that thou art such rapture canst thou earn ? Only resolve with courage stern and high, Thy visage from the radiant sun to turn ; Dare with determin'd will to burst the por- tals Past which in terror others fain would steal ! Now is the time, through deeds, to show that mortals The calm sublimity of gods can feel ; To shudder not at yonder dark abyss, Where phantasy creates her own self- torturing brood. Right onward to the yawning gulf to press. Around whose narrow jaws rolleth hell's fiery flood ; With glad resolve to take the fatal leap, Though danger threaten thee, to sink in end- less sleep ! Pure cr3'stal goblet, forth I draw thee now, From out thine antiquated case, where thou Forgotten hast reposed for many a year ! Oft at my father's revels thou didst shine. To glad the earnest guests was thine. As each to other pass'd the generous cheer. The gorgeous brede of figures, quaintly wrought. Which he who quaff'd must first in rhyme ex- pound. Then drain the goblet at one draught pro- found, Hath nights of boyhood to fond memory brought. I to my neighbor shall not reach thee now, Nor on thy rich device shall I my cunning show. Here is a juice, makes drunk without delay ; Its dark brown flood thy crystal round doth fill; Let this last draught, the produfl of my skill. My own free choice, be quafif'd with resolute will, A solemn festive greeting, to the coming day ! \JFIc places the goblet to his month. [ The ringing of bells, and choral voices. Chorus of Angels. Christ is arisen ! Mortal, all hail to thee, Thou whom niortal- 'ty, Earth's sad reality, Held as in prison. Faust. What hum melodious, what clear silvery chime, Thus draws the goblet from my lips away? Ye deep-ton' d bells, do ye with voice sublime, Announce the solemn dawn of Easter-day? Sweet choir ! are ye the hymn of comfort sing- ing; Which once around the darkness of the grave. From seraph-voices, in glad triumph ringing, Of a new covenant assurance gave? Chorus of Women. We, his true-hearted. With spices and myrrh. Embalm' d the departed. And swath'd Him with care; Here we convey'd Him, Our Master, so dear ; Alas ! Where we laid Him, The Christ is not here. Chorus of Angels. Christ is arisen ! Perfedl through earthly ruth, Radiant with love and truth. He to eternal youth Soars from earth's prison. Faust. Wherefore, )'e tones celestial, sweet and strong, Come ye a dweller in the dust to seek? Ring out your chimes believing crowds among, The message well I hear, my faith alone is weak ; From faith her darling, miracle, hath sprung. Aloft to yonder spheres I dare not soar, Whence sound the tidings of great joy ; And yet, with this sweet strain familiar when a boy. Back it recalletli me to life once more. Then would celestial love, with holy kiss. Come o'er me in the Sabbath's stilly hour, While, fraught with solemn meaning and mysterious power, Chim'd the deep-sounding bell, and prayer was bliss ; A yearning impulse, undefin'd )'et dear. 19 Drove me to wander on througli wood and field ; With heaving breast and many a burning tear, I felt with holy joy a world reveal'd. Gay sports and festive hours proclaim'd with joyous pealing, This Easter h\'mn in days of old ; And fond remembranee now doth me, with childlike feeling, Back from the last, the solemn step, witlihold. O still sound on, thou sweet celestial strain ! The tear-drop flows — Earth, I am thine again ! Chorus OF Disciples. He whom we mourn 'd as dead. Living and glorious, From the dark grave hath fled, O'er death viftorious; Almost creati\'e bliss Waits on his growing powers ; Ah ! Him on earth we miss ; Sorrow and grief are ours. Yearning He left his own, Mid sore annoy; Ah ! we must needs bemoan, Master, thy joy ! Chorus of Angels. Christ is arisen, Redeem' d from decay. The bonds which iinprison Your souls, rend away ! Praising the Lord with zeal. By deeds that love reveal. Like brethren true and leal Sharing the daily meal. To all that sorrow feel Whisp'ring of heaven's weal, Still is the Master near, Still is He here ! ^ \ \fj rr/ :^ Bf.I'Orf, the Gate. Promcnadcrs of all sorts pass out. Artisans. Why clioose ye that direftioii, pra)' ? Others. To the hunting-lodge we're on our way. The First. We towards the mill are strolling on. A Mechanic. A walk to Wasserhof were best. A Second. The road is not a pleasant one. The O I hers. What will you do ? A Third. I'll join the rest. A Fourth. Let's up to Durghof, there you'll find good cheer, The prettiest maidens and the best of beer, And brawls of a prime scjrt. A Fifth. You scapegrace ! How ! Your skin still itching for a row? Thither I will not go, I loathe the place. Servant Girl. No, no ! I to the town my steps retrace. Another. Near }-ondcr poplars he is sure to be. The First. And if he is, what matters it to me ! With you he'll walk, he'll dance with none but you. And \vith youi pleasures whit ha\e I to di>? The Second. To-day he will not be alone, he said His friend would be with him, the curly-head. Student. Why how those buxom girls step on ! Come, brother, we will follow them anon. Strong beer, a damsel smartly dress'd. Stinging tobacco, — these I love the best. Burgher's Dau(;hter. Look at those handsome fellows there ! 'Tis really shameful, I declare, The very best society they shun, After those servant-girls forsooth, to run. Second Student. ( To the first. ) Not quite so fast ! for in our rear, Two girls, well-dress'd, are drawing near ; Not far from us the one doth dwell, And sooth to say, I like her well. They walk demurely, yet you'll see, That they will let us join them presently. The First. Not I ! restraints of all kinds I detest. Quick ! let us catch the wild-game ere it flies. The hand on Saturday the mop that plies Will on the Sunday fondle you the best. Burgher. No, this new Burgomaster, I like him not ; each hour He grows more arrogant, now that he's rais'd to power ; And for the town, what doth he do for it? Are not things worse from day to day? To more restraints we must submit ; And taxes more than ever pay. Beggar. (Sings.) Kind gentlemen and ladies fair. So rosy-cheek' d and trimly dress' d, Be pleas'd to listen to my prayer, Relieve and pity the distress'd. Let me not vainly sing my lay ! His heart's most glad whose hand is free. Now when all men keep holiday, Should be a harvest-day to me. Another Burgher. I know naught better on a holiday, Than chatting about war and war's alarms; When folk in Turkey are all up in arms. Fighting their deadly battles far away. We at the window stand, our glasses drain, And watch adown the stream the painted vessels glide. Then, blessing peace and peaceful times, again Homeward we turn our steps at eventide. Third Burgher. Ay, neighbor ! So let matters stand for me ! There they may scatter one another's brains. And wild confusion round them see — So here at home in quiet all remains ! Old Woman. (To the Burghers' Daugh- ters.; Heyday! How smart! The fresh young blood ! Who would not fall in love with you ? Not quite so proud ! 'Tis well and good ! And what you wish, that I could help you to. Burgher's Daughter. Come, Agatha! I care not to be seen Walking in public with these witches. True, My future lover, last St. Andrew's E'en, In flesh and blood she brought before my view. -Another. And mine she show'd me also in the glass, A soldier's figure, with companions bold : I look around, I seek him as I pass. In vain, his form I nowhere can behold. Soldiers. Fortress with turrets Rising in air. Damsel disdainful. Haughty and fair, These be my prey ! Bold is the venture. Costly the pay ! Hark how the trumpet Thither doth call us. Where either pleasure Or death may befall us. Hail to the tumult ! Life's in the field ! Damsel and fortress To us must yield. Bold is the venture, Costly the pay ! Gayly the soldier Marches away. Faust and Wagner. Faust. Loos'd from their fetters are streams and rills Through the gracious spring-tide's all-quicken- ing glow; Hope's budding joy in the vale doth blow; Old Winter back to the savage hills Withdraweth his force, decrepit now. Thence only impotent icy grains Scatters he as he wings his flight, Striping with sleet the verdant plains ; But the sun endureth no trace of white ; Everywhere growth and movement are rife, All things investing with hues of life : Though flowers are lacking, varied of dye. Their colors the motley throng supply. Turn thee around, and from this height, Back to the town diredl thy sight. Forth from the hollow, gloomy gate, Stream forth the masses, in bright array. Gladly seek they the sun to-day; The Resurre6lion they celebrate: For they themselves have risen, with joy, From tenement sordid, from cheerless room, From bonds of toil, from care and annoy, From gable and roof's o'erhanging gloom. From crowded alley and narrow street. And from the churches' awe-breathing night. All now have issued into the light. But look ! how spreadeth on nimble feet Through garden and field the joyous throng, How o'er the river's ample sheet. Many a gay wherry glides along ! And see, deep sinking in the tide, Pushes the last boat now away. E'en from yon far hill's path-worn side, Flash the bright hues of garments gay. Hark ! Sounds of village mirth arise ; This is the people's paradise. Both great and small send up a cheer ; Here am I man, I feel it here. Wagner. Sir Do6tor, in a walk with you There's honor and instru6tion too ; Yet here alone I care not to resort. Because I coarseness hate of every sort. This fiddling, shouting, skittling, I detest; I hate the tumult of the vulgar throng ; They roar as by the evil one possess'd, And call it pleasure, call it song. nTlbT : FRANZ SIMM, FAUST. FIRST PART. UNDER THE LINDEN TREE. Peasants. (Under the linden tree.) Dance and song. The shepherd for the dance was dress' d, With ribbon, wreath and colored vest, A gallant show displaying. And round about the linden tree, They footed it right merrily. Juchhe ! Juchhe ! Juchheisa ! Heisa ! He ! So fiddle-bow was braying. Our swain amidst the circle press'd, He push'd a maiden trimly dress'd. And jogg'd her with his elbow ; The buxom damsel turn'd her head, " Now that's a stupid trick !" she said, Juchhe ! Juchhe ! Juchheisa ! Heisa ! He ! Don't be so rude, good fellow! Swift in the circle they advance, They dance to right, to left they dance, The skirts abroad are swinging. And they grow red, and they grow warm. Elbow on hip, they arm in arm, Juchhe ! Juchhe ! Juchheisa ! Heisa ! He ! Rest, talking now or singing. Don't make so free ! How many a maid Has been betroth'd and then betray'd; And has repented after ! Yet still he flatter'd her aside. And from the linden, far and wide, Juchhe ! Juchhe ! Juchheisa ! Heisa ! He ! Sound fiddle-bow and laughter. Old Peasant. Dodlor, 'tis really kind of you, To condescend to come this way, A highly learned man like you. To join our mirthful throng to-day. Our fairest cup I offer you. Which we with sparkling drink have crown'd. And pledging you, I pray aloud. That every drop within its round. While it your present thirst allays, May swell the number of your days. Faust. I take the cup you kindly reach. Thanks and prosperity to each ! [7/iif crowd gather round in a circle. Old Peasant. Ay, truly ! 'tis well done, that you Our festive meeting thus attend ; You, who in evil days of yore. So often show'd yourself our friend ! Full many a one stands living here, Who from the fever's deadly blast. Your father rescued, when his skill The fatal sickness stay'd at last. A young man then, each house you sought, Where reign'd the mortal pestilence. Corpse after corpse was carried forth. But still unscath'd you issued thence. Sore then your trials and severe ; The Helper yonder aids the helper here. All. Heaven bless the trusty friend, ana long To help the poor his life prolong ! Faust. To Him above in homage bend. Who prompts the helper and Who help doth send. [He proceeds with Wagner. Wagner. With what emotions must your heart o'erflow. Receiving thus the reverence of the crowd ! Great man ! How happy, who like you doth know Such use for gifts by heaven bestow'd ! You to the son the father shows ; They press around, inquire, advance, Hush'd is the fiddle, check'd the dance. Still where you pass they stand in rows. And each aloft his bonnet throws. They fall upon their knees, almost As when there passeth by the Host. Faust. A few steps further, up to yonder stone ! Here rest we from our walk. In times long past, Absorb' d in thought, here oft I sat alone. And disciplin'd myself with prayer and fast. Then rich in hope, with faith sincere. With sighs, and hands in anguish press'd. The end of that sore plague, with many a tear, From heaven's dread Lord, I sought to wrest. These praises have to me a scornful tone. Oh, could'st thou in my inner being read. How little either sire or son. Of such renown deserve the meed ! My sire, of good repute, and sombre mood. O'er nature's powers and every mystic zone, With honest zeal, but methods of his own. With toil fantastic loved to brood ; His time in dark alchemic cell. With brother adepts he would spend. And there antagonists compel. Through numberless receipts to blend. A ruddy lion there, a suitor bold, In tepid bath was with the lily wed. Thence both, while open flames around them roll'd. Were tortur'd to another bridal bed. W'as tlieii the \i.iiitlifnl queen descri'd With many a hue, to erown the task; — 'J'his was our medicine; the patients died, " Who «'ere restor'd ?" none car'd to ask. ^Vith our infernal mixture thus, ere long, 'i'liese hills and peaeeful vales among. We rag'd more fiercely than the pest ; Myself the deadly poison did to thousands give ; I'liey pined away, I yet must live. To hear the ret k I ess murderers blest. Wagner. \\'hy let this thought your soul o'ercast? Can man do more than with nice skill, AVith firm and conscientious will. Practise the art transmitted from the past? If duly you revere \