9 ♦ Ü ^ *% ..^ <^ Cjfe '^ l_^ THE FIRST PART OF GOETHE'S FAUST THE HENRY IRVING EDITION BALI.ANTVNK, HANSON /^^D CO. EHINBUKL,!! A.NU LONlJUM THE HENRY IRVING EDITION THE FIRST PART OF GOETHE'S FAUST Jfrom tbe (Berman BY JOHN ANSTER, LL.D. WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY HENRY MORLEY, LL.D. ILLUSTRATIONS BY J.-P. LAURENS LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS BROADWAY, LUDGATP: HILL NEW YORK: 9 LAFAYKTTE PLACE 1887 MAIN ml ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. -P. LAURENS. PAGE PROLOGUE .... -, • . . . i^ THE POODLE •••...'.... 73 THE VISION . y^r THE GARDEN ^ „_ THE PRISON . , _ 248 EPILOGUE •7 55 TO . HENRY IRVING, Esq. WHOSE PRODUCTION OF " FAUST " AT THE LYCEUM THEATRE HAS DONE SO MUCH TO POPULARIZE GOETHE'S MASTERPIECE IN ENGLAND, THIS EDITION IS RESPECTFULLY Bcölcateö BY THE PUBLISHERS, GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS. ^/i^' ^^^- l INTRODUCTION. Goethe's Faust was first published in 1806, after a slow develop- ment through many years. The Ballad of the King of Thule, the first monologue, and the first scene with Wagner, were written in 1774-53 f^'oi^i that time onward Goethe made fragmentary addi- tions from time to time. In 1797 he remodelled the whole work, then added the two Prologues and the Walpurgis Night. In iSoi the work was finished. The feebler Second Part of Faust, com- pleted in July 1831, at the age cf eighty-one — Goethe died on the 22nd of March 1832— was an after-thought, continuing to the end association of the Faust legend with thoughts and feelings from his own experience of life. " The marionette fable of Faust," he said, "murmured with many voices in my soul. I too had wandered into every department of knowledge, and had returned early enough, satisfied with the vanity of science. And life, too, I had tried under various aspects, and always came back sorrow- ing and unsatisfied. Here it must be enough to say that Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was born at Frankfort-on-the-Main, August 28, 1749. His father was an Imperial Councillor with refined tastes, which he could satisfy, and in which he could train his son. Goethe studied at Leipsic, and afterwards at Strasburg ; cared more for the natural sciences than for law ; took the degree of Doctor ; and at the age of twenty-five represented the sick mind of Europe, in the days before the French Revolution, with the "Sorrows of the Young Werter," first published in 1774. In 1779 he entered the service of the Duke of Saxe Weimar, by whom he was employed in high offices, loaded with honours, and impeded in the free use lo INTRODUCTION. of his mind. But after the first ten years at Weimar, a journey to Italy gave impulse to his genius, and bore fruit in Jphigenia, JLgmont, Tasso, and much of Fausf. TJiis greatest of German poets began his career, like Schiller, with reaction against a litera- ture of classical convention and a life encumbered with dead forms. He gave, for Germany, highest expression to the struggle for a real life uttering itself in a real literature. Taught by the free spirit of Shakespeare, he turned early from the classical drama to represent in Gölz von Berlichingen, a hero out of the old national tradition, who like himself, though in another way, defied authority. As the healthy artist life developed, the poet was the man. From the lightest grace of song to the large conception of his burgher epic, Hervmnn und Dorothea, most of all in his Faitsl, all is direct utterance of his own inner life, with the intensity and the repose of thought that, through the man himself and his own life problems, touched all humanity in a time of Revolution, when minds exulted in the new sense of recovered power. Goethe solved no riddle of life, but he expressed himself, and, through himself, a world of newly wakened thought among men, with the full sincerity that is of the essence of all high artistic power. Dr. John Anster, whose version is here given, was the eadiest translator of Faust into English. He was born in Cork at the close of the last centur>', educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and called to the Irish Bar in 1824. He graduated as LL.D. \k 1826. He had published at one-and-tvventy a prize poem, and Poems with Translations from the German, and after contributing to Blackwood's Magazine— in which he was a frequent writer fragiiients of his translation of Faust, he published the whole in ^835- In 1S50 Dr. Anster was appointed Regius Professor of Civil Law in the University of Dublin. He died in June 1S67. His translation of Faust gave pleasure to Coleridge, and is liked in Germany. HENRY MORLEY. Fa u s t. PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE. Manager. Dr.a_matic Poet. Mr. Merryman. Manager. My two good friends, on whom I have depended, At all times to assist me and advise ; Aid your old friend once more — to-night he tries (And greatly fears the fate that may attend it) For German lands a novel enterprise. To please the public I am most desirous ; " Live and let live," has ever been their maxim, Gladly they pay the trifle that we tax 'em, And gratitude should widi new zeal inspire us. Our temporary theatre's erected. Planks laid, posts raised, and something is expected. Already have the audience ta'en their station, With eye-brows lifted up in expectation ; Thoughtful and tranquil all — with hopes excited, Disposed to be amused — amazed — delighted ! I know the people's taste — their whims — caprices, Could always get up popular new pieces ; But never have I been before so harassed As now — so thorouglily perplext, embarrassed ! 13 FA UST. Every one reads so much of every thing : The books they read are not the best, 'tis true : Eut tlien they are for ever reading— reading ! This being so, how can we hope to bring Any thing out, that shall be good and new ? What chance of now as formerly succeeding? How I delight to see the people striving To force their way into our crowded booth, Pouring along, and fighting, nail and tooth, Digging with elbows, through the passage driving, As if it were St. Peter's gate, and leading To something more desirable than Eden ; Long before four, while daylight's strong as ever. All hurrying to the box of the receiver, Breaking their necks for tickets — thrusting — ^jamunng, As at a baker's door in time of famine ! On men so various in iheir disposition, So different in manners — rank — condition ; How is a miracle like this effected ? The poet — he alone is the magician. On thee, my friend, we call — from thee expect it. Poet Oh, tell me not of the tumultuous crowd, My powers desert me in the noisy throng ; Hide, hide from me the multitude, whose loud And dizzy whirl would hurry me along Against my will ; and lead me to some lone FAUST. And silent vale — some scene in fairy-land, There only will the poet's heart expand. Surrendered to the impulses of song, Lost in delicious visions of its own, Where Love and Friendship o'er the heart at rest Watch through the flowing hours, and we are blest ! Thoughts by the soul conceived in silent joy. Sounds often muttered by the timid voice. Tried by the nice ear, delicate of choice, Till we at last are pleased, or self-deceived, The whole a rabble's madness may destroy \ And this, when, after toil of many years, Touched and retouched, the perfect piece appears To challenge praise, or win unconscious tears^ As the vain heart too easily believed ; Some sparkling, showy thing, got up in haste. Brilliant and light, will catch the passing taste. The truly great, the genuine, the sublime Wins its slow way in silence ; and the bard. Unnoticed long, receives from after-time The imperishable wreath, his best, his sole reward ! Mr. Merry. Enough of this cold cant of future ages, And men hereafter doting on your pages ; To prattle thus of other times is pleasant. And all the while neglect our own, the present. Why, what if I too — Mister Merryman — ^3 \ '4 FAUST. In my vocation acted on your plan? If on the unborn we squander our exertion, Who will supply the living with diversion ? And, clamour as you, authors, may about it, They want amusement— will not go without it ; Just look at me, a fme j-oung dashing fellow— My very face works wonders, let me tell you ;— Now my way, for your guidance I may mention- Please but yourself, and feel no apprehension. The crowd will share the feelings of the poet, The praise he seeks they liberally bestow it : The more that come, the better for the writer. Each flash of wit is farther felt— seems brighter, And everj' little point appreciated, By some one in the circle over-rated. All is above its value estimated : Take courage then,— come— now for a cJief-d'ceuvn— To make a name— to live, and live for ever— Call Faxcy up, with her attendant troop, Reason and Judgment, PassiOxN, Melancholy, Wit, Feeling, and among the choral group Do not forget the little darling, Folly ! Manager. But above all, give them enough of action ; He who gives most, will give most satisfaction ; They come to see a sh(nu—x\Q M'ork whatever. Unless it be a show, can win their favour ; Then, as they wish it, let them gape and stare ;— FAUST. 15 Crowd scene on scene — enough and still to spare. A show is what they want ; they love and pay for it ; Spite of its serious parts, sit through a play for it j And he who gives one is a certain favourite ; Would you please many, you must give good measure; Then each finds something in't to yield him pleasure ; The more you give, the greater sure your chance is To please, by var)'ing scenes, such various fancies. The interest of a piece, no doubt, increases Divided thus, and broken into pieces. We want a dish to hit the common taste ; Then hash it up and serve it out in haste ! And, for my partj methinks it little matters : Though you may call your work a finished whole, The public soon will tear this whole to tatters, And but on piecemeal parts their praises dole. Foet. You cannot think how very mean a task, How humbling to the genuine artist's mind, To furnish such a drama as you ask : The poor pretender's bungling tricks, I find, Are now established as the rules of trade, — Receipts — by which successful plays are made ! Manager. Such an objection is of little weight Against my reasoning. If a person chooses To work effectively, no doubt he uses The instrument that's most appropriate. Your play may — ^for your audience — be too good j — ; ♦\ iTi ■ tw^raiii li ^H iiii1i« »ar «iw» I - |i< i» ii i6 FAUST. Coarse lumpish logs are they of clumsy wood— Blocks — with the hatchet only to be hewed ! One comes to drive away ennui or spleen; Another, with o'erloaded paunch from table,- A third, than all the rest less tolerable, From reading a review or magazine. Hither all haste, anticipate delight, As to a Masque, desire each face illumin?. And each, some novel character assuming, Place for awhile their own half out of sight. The ladies, too, tricked out in brilliant gear, Themselves ambitious actresses appear. And, though unpaid, are still performers here. What do you dream in your poetic pride ? Think you a full house can be satisfied And every auditor an ardent cheerer ? Pray, only look at them a little nearer; One half are cold spectators, inattentive; The other dead to every fine incentive ; One fellow's thinking of a game of cards; One on a wild night of intoxication : Why court for such a set the kind regards Of the coy Muse— her highest fascination ? I tell thee only, give enough — enough ; Still more and more - no matter of what stuff; You cannot go astray ; let all your views Be only for the moment to amuse, FAUST. To keep them in amazement or distraction ; Man is incapable of satisfaction. V/hy, what affects you thus — is't inspiration ? A reverie ? — ah ! can it be vexation ? Foel. Go, and elsewhere som.e fitter servant find ; What ! shall the poet squander then away, For thy poor purposes, himself, his mind, Profane the gift, which Nature, when she gavs To him, to him entrusted for mankind, • — Their birthright — thy poor bidding to obey. And sink into an humble trading slave ? Whence is his power all human hearts to win. And why can nothing his proud march oppose. As through all elements the conqueror goes ? Oh, is it not the harmony within, The music, that hath for its dwelling-place His own rich soul ?— the heart that can receive Again into itself, again embrace The world it clothed with beauty and bade live ? With unregarding hand when Nature throws Upon the spindle the dull length of thread, That on, still on, in weary sameness flows, When all things, that in unison agreeing, Should join to form the happy web of Being, Are tangled in inextricable strife : Who can awake the blank monotony To measured order? Who upon the dead ^7 i8 FAUST, Unthinking chaos breathe the charm of life, Restore the dissonant to harmony, And bid the jarring individual be A chord, that, in the general consecration, Bears part with all in musical relation ? Who to the tempest's rage can give a voice Like human passion ? bid the serious mind Glow with the colouring of the sunset hours ? Who in the dear path scatter spring's first flowers, When wanders forth the ladye of his choice ? Who of the valueless green leaves can bind A wreath — the artist's proudest ornament — Or, round the conquering hero's brow entwined The best reward his country can present ? \VJiose voice is fame ? who gives us to inherit Olympus, and the loved Elysian. field ? The soul of MAN sublimed— man's soaring spirit Seen in the poet, gloriously revealed. Mr. Merry. A poet yet should regulate his fancies. Like that of life should get up his romances ; First a chance meeting— then the young folk tarry Together— toy and trifle, sigh and marry. Are link'd for ever, scarcely half intending it, Once met— 'tis fixed— no changing and no mending it. Thus a romance runs : fortime, then reverses ; Rapture, then coldness ; bridal dresses— hearses ; The lady dying — letters from the lover, FAUST. u) And, ere you think of it, the thing is over. Shift your scenes rapidly ; write fast and gaily, Give, in your play, the life we witness daily ; The life which all men live, yet few men notice. Yet which will please ('tis very strange, but so 'tis), Will please, when forced again on their attention, More than the wonders of remote invention; Glimmerings of truth— calm sentiment — smart strictures- Actors in bustle — clouds of moving pictures — The young will crowd to see a work, revealing Their own hearts to themselves ; in solitude Will feast on the remembered visions — stealing For frenzied passion its voluptuous food : Unbidden smiles and tears unconscious start. For oh ! the secrets of the poet's art, What are they but the dreams of the young heart? Oh ! 'tis the young enjoy the poet's mood, Float with him on imagination's wing, Think all his thoughts, are his in everything, Are, while they dream not of it, all they see : Youth— youth is the true time for sympathy. This is the sort of drink to take the town j Flavour it to their taste, they gulp it down. Your true admirer is the generous spirit, Unformed, unspoiled, he feels all kindred merit As if of his own being it were part, And growing with the growth of his own heart ; 20 FAUST. Feels gratitude, because he feels that truth Is taught him by the poet — this is Youth ; Nothing can please your groivn ones, they're so knowing, And no one thanks the poet but the growin;:;. Pcet. Give me, oh ! give me back the da}s When I — I too — was young — And felt, as they now feel, each coming hour New consciousness of power. Oh happy, happy time, above all praise ! Then thoughts on thoughts and crowding fancies sprung, And found a language in unbidden lays ; Unintermitted streams from fountains ever flowing. Then, as I wander'd free. In every fields for me Its thousand flowers were blowing ! A veil through which I did not see, A thin veil o'er the world was thrown In every bud a myster)' ^ Magic in everything unknown :— The fields, the grove, the air was haunted, And all that age has disenchanted. Yes ! give me— give me back the days of youth. Poor, yet how rich !— my glad inheritance The inextinguishable love of truth, Wliile life's realities were all romance — Give me, oh ! give youth's passions unconfined, Tlie rush of joy that felt almost like pain, FAUST, 21 Its hate, its love, its own tumultuous mind ; — Give me my youth again ! Mr. Merry. WTiy, my dear friend, for youth thus sigh and prattle, Twould be a very good thing in a battle ; Or on your arm if a fine girl were leaning, Then, I admit, the wish would have some meaning : In nmning for a bet, to clear the distance, — ' A young man's sinews would be.some assistance; Or if, after a dance, a man was thinking Of reeling out the night in glorious drinking ; But you have only among chords, well known Of the familiar harp, with graceful finger Freely to stray at large, or fondly linger. Courting some wandering fancies of your own ; While, with capricious windings and delays. Loitering, or lost in an enchanted maze Of sweet sounds, the rich melody, at will Gliding, here rests, here indolently strays, Is ever free, yet evermore obeys The hidden guide, that journeys with it still. This is, old gentleman, your occupation. Nor think that it m.akes less our veneration. " Age," says the song, " the faculties bewildermg, Renders men childish "—no ! it finds them children. Man. Come, come, no more of this absurd inventorv Of flattering phrases— courteous— complimentary. ''*•"-- • r ■ i ii i a — ff i T i i ■22 FAUST, You both lose time in words unnecessary, Pia} ing with language thus at fetch and carry ; Think not of tuning now or preparation, Strike up, my boy — no fear — no hesitation, Till you commence no chance of inspiration. But once assume the poet — then the fire From heaven will come to kindle and inspire. Strong drink is what we want to gull the people, A hearty, brisk, and animating tipple ; Come, come, no more delay, no more excuses, The stuff we ask you for, at once produce us. Lose this day loitering — 'twill be the same story To-morrow — and the next more dilatory; Then indecision brings its own delays. And days are lost lamenting o'er lost days. Are you in earnest ? seize this very minute — ■ What you can do, or dream ) ou can, begin it, Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Only engage, and then the mind grows heated — Begin it, and the work will be completed ! You know our German bards, like bold adventurers, Bring out whatever they please, and laugh at censurers. Then do not think to-day of sparing scenery — Command enough of dresses and machinery; Use as you please — fire, water, thunder, levin — The greater and the lesser lights of heaven. Squander away the stars at your free pleasure, And build up rocks and mountains without measure. / .> PROLOGUE ( Faust. ) I FAUST. ,^ Of birds and beasts we've plenty here to lavish, Come, cast away all apprehensions slavish- Strut, on our narrow stage, with lofty stature, As moving through the circle of wide natiu-e. With swiftest speed, in calm thought weighing well Each movement— move from heaven through earth to HELL. PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. Der Herr, the Heavenly Hosts, afterivards Mephistopheles. The three Archangels come fonvard. Raphael. The sun, as in the ancient days, ']\rong sister stars in rival song, His destined path observes, obeys, And still in thunder rolls along : New strength and full beatitude The angels gather from his sight, Mysterious all — ^j-et all is good, All fair as at the birth of light ! Gabriel. Swift, unimaginably swift. Soft spins the earth, and glories bright Of mid-day Eden change and shift To shades of deep and spectral night. The vexed sea foams— waves leap and moan, And chide the rocks with insult hoarse, 24 FAUST, And wave and rock are Imrried on. And suns and stars in endless course. Michael. And winds with winds mad war maintain, From sea to land, from land to sea ; And heave round earth, a living chain Of intenvoven agency. — Guides of the bursting thimder-peal, Fast lightnings flash with deadly ray. While, Lord, with Thee thy servants feel Calm effluence of abiding day. All. New strength and full beatilaide The angels gather from thy sight ; Mysterious all, yet all is good. All fair as at the birth of light. Meph. Since Thou, O Lord, dost visit us once more, To ask how things are going on, and since You have received me kindly heretofore, I venture to the levee of my prince. Pardon me, if I fail, after the sort Of bending courtiers here, to pay my court ; The company is far too fine for me. They smile with scorn such folk in heaven to see. High hymns and solemn words are not my forte. Pathos from me would look too like a joke ; Words, that from others had set angels v/eeping, To laughter would your very self provoke, If laughter were not wholly out of keeping. FAUST, 25 Nothing of suns or worlds have 1 to saj', I only see how men fret on their day ; The little god of earth is still the same Strange thing he was, when first to life he came ; That life were somewhat better, if the light Of heaven had not been given to spoil him quite. Reason he calls it — see its blessed fruit, Than the brute beast man is a beasther brute; lie seems to me, if I may venture on Such a comparison, to be like one Of those long lank-legged grasshoppers, M-hose song The self-same creak, chiq)s, as they bound along, Monotonous and restless in the grass, 'Twere well 'twas in grass always ; but, alas, They thrust their snouts in every filth they pass. Der Herr. Hast thou no more than this to say, Thou, who complainest every day ? Arc all things evil in thy sight ? Does nothing on the earth move right? MepJu Not anything, ray lord— poor men so fervent And foolish are— I almost feel compassion. Der Herr. Dost thou know Faust? Meph. The doctor ? Der Herr. Yes; my servant. Meph. Truly, he serves in a peculiar fashion ; Child though he be of human birth. His food and drink are not of earth. ^ 2Ö FAUST, Foolish— even he at times will feci ^ The folly in such hopes to deal : — His fancies hurry him afar ; Of heaven he asks its highest star; Self-willed and spoiled, in mad pursuit. Of earth demands its fairest fruit ; Ajid all that both can give supplied, Behold him still unsatisfied ! Der Herr. Yes ; for he serves in a perplexing scene, That oft misleads him. Still his will is right; Soon comes the time to lead him into light. Now is the first prophetic green, The hopes and promises of spring. The unformed bud and blossoming ; ' . And he who reared the tree and knows the clime Will seek and find fair fruit in fitting time. Meph, What will you wager you don't lose him yet. With all his promise ? Had I only freedom On my own path with easy lure to lead him, I've not a doubt of it I win the bet. Der Herr. As long as on the earth endures his life To deal with him have full and free permission ; Man's hour on earth is weakness, error, strife. Meph. Cheerfully I agree to the condition ; I have no fancy for the dead : your youth, With fi.ill fresh cheeks^ tastes daintier to my tooth. FAUST. - 2' Should a corpse call, the answer at my house Is, " Not at home." j\Iy play is cat and mouse. Der Herr. Be it permitted: from his source divert And draw this Spirit captive down with thee ; Till baffled and in shame thou dost admit, " A good man, clouded though his senses be By error, is no willing slave to it." His consciousness of good will it desert • The good man ?— yea, even in his darkest hours Still doth he war with Darkness and the Powers Of Darkness ;— for the light he cannot see Still round him feels ;— and, if he be not free, Struggles against this strange captivity. Meph. Aye ! feelings that have no abiding — Short struggles — give him to my guiding — I cannot have a doubt about the bet. Oh ! in what triumph shall I crow at wiiming ! Dust he shall eat, and eat with pleasure yet. Like that first SNAKE in my poor heraldry. Who has been eating it from the beginning. Der Herr. Here too take your own course^-you are quite free In the concern, — with anything but loathing I look on folk like you. My work demands Such servants. Of the Spirits of Denial The pleasantest, that figures in Man's Trial, Is Old Ixiquity in his Fool's clothinsr ; 28 FAUST. The Vice is never heavy upon hands ; Without tlie Knave the Mystery were nothing, For Man's activity soon tires, (A lazy being at the best) And sting and spur requires. In indolent enjoyment j\ran wouM live, And this companion, whom I therefore give Goads, urges, drives— is devil and cannot rest But ye, pure sons of God, be yours the sight Of Beauty, each hour brighter and more bright! The Life, in all around, below, above That ever lives and works — the Infinite Enfold you in the happy bonds of love ! And all that flows unfixed and undefined In glimmering phantasy before the mind, Bid Thought's enduring chain for ever bind ! \Heaven doses. The archangels disperse. Meph. \alone\. I'm very glad to have it in vay power To see him now and then ; he is so civil : I rather like our good old governor — Think only of his speaking to the devil ! Time, Night Scene, A high-arched, narrow^ Gothic chamler-- Faust at his desk — restless. F.iiist. Alas ! I have explored Philosophy, and Law, and Medicine : FAUST, 29 And over deep Divinity have pored, Studying with ardent and laborious zeal ; And here I am at last, a very fool, With useless learning curst. No wiser than at first ! Here am I — boast and wonder of the school ; Äfitgister, Doctor, and I lead These ten years past, my pupils' creed ; Winding, by dexterous words, with ease, Their opinions as I please. And now to feel that nothing can be known ! This is a thought that bums into my heart. I have been more acute than all these triflers, Doctors and authors, priests, philosophers ; Have sounded all the depths of every science. Scruples, or the perplexity of doubt, Torme:it me not, nor fears of hell or devil. But I have lost all peace of mind : Whate'er I knew, or thought I knew, Seenis now unmeaning or untrue. The fancy too has died away, The hope, that I might, in my day, Instruct, and elevate mankind. Thus robbed of learning's only pleasure, Without dominion, rank, or treasure, Without one joy that earth can give, Could dog — were I a dog — so live ? 30 FA USr. I'herefore to magic, with severe And patient toil, have I applied, Despairing of all other guide, That from some Spirit I might hear Deep truths, to others unrevealed, And mysteries from mankind sealed; And never more, with shame of heart. Teach things, of which I know no part. Oh, for a glance into the earth ! To see below its dark foundations. Life's embryo seeds before their birth And Nature's silent operations. Thus end at once this vexing fever Of words — mere words — repeated ever. Beautiful Moon ! — Ah ! would that now, For the last time, thy lovely beams Shone on my troubled brow ! Oft by this desk, at middle night, I have sat gazing for thy light, Wearied with search, through volumes endless, I sate 'mong papers — crowded books, Alone — when thou, friend of the friendless, Camest smiling in, with soothing looks. Oh, that upon some headland height I now were wandering in thy light 1 Floating with Spirits, like a shadow, Round mountain-cave, o'er twilight meadow; wsa^n^asiJismm FAUST, 3, And from the toll of thought relieved, No longer sickened and deceived, In thy soft dew could bathe, and find Tranquillity and health of mind. Alas ! and am I in the gloom Still of this cursed dungeon room ? Where even heaven's light, so beautiful, -•- Through the stained glass comes thick and dull ; 'Mong volumes heaped from floor to ceiling, Scrolls with book-worms through them stealing ; Dreary walls, where dusty paper Bears deep stains of smoky vapour; Glasses, instruments, all lumber Of this kind the place encumber ; All a man of learning gathers. All bequeathed me by my fathers. Crucibles from years undated, Chairs of structure antiquated, Are in strange confusion hurled ! Here, Faustus, is thy world— a world f Still dost thou ask, why in thy breast The sick heart flutters ill at rest ? Why a dull sense of suffering Deadens life's current at the spring? From living nature thou hast fled To dwell 'mong fragments of the dead ; j And for the lovely scenes which Heaven 3= FAUST. Hath made man for, to man hath given ; Hast chosen to pore o'er mouldering bones Of brute and human skeletons ! Away— away and far away ! This book, where secret spells are scanned, Traced by Nostradam's own hand, Will be thy strength and stay : The courses of the stars to thee No longer are a mystery; The thoughts of Nature Ihou canst seek, As Spirits with their brothers speak. It is, it is the planet hour Of thy own being ; light, and power, And fervour to the soul are given, As proudly it ascends its heaven. To ponder here, o'er spells and signs, Symbolic letters, circles, lines ; And from their actual use refrain. Were time and labour lost in vain : Then ye, whom I feel floating near me. Spirits, answer, ye who hear me ! \^He opens the hook, and Uohts upon the si^ of INIacrocosmus. Ha ! what new life divine, intense. Floods in a moment every sense; ' I feel the dawn of youth again, FAUST. 33 Visiting each glowing vein ! ^V:^s it a god — a god who wrote these signs ? The tumults of my soul are stilled, My withered heart with rapture filled : In virtue of the magic lines, The secret powers that Nature mould. Their essence and their acts unfold — Am I a god ? — Can mortal sight Enjoy, endure this burst of light? How clear these silent characters ! All Nature present to my view, And each creative act of hers — And is the glorious vision true ? The wise man's words at length are plain, Whose sense so long I sought in vain : "The Worlde of Spirits no Clouds conceale : Man's Eye is dim, it cannot see. Man's Heart is dead, it cannot feele. Thou, who wouldst knowe the Things that be, The Heart of Earth in the Sunrise red, Bathe, till its Stains of Earth arc fled." [He Ioo?:3 ever the sign attentively. Oh ! how the spell before my sight Brings nature's hidden ways to light: See ! all things with each other blending — Each to all its being lending — 34 FAUST. All on each in tum depending— Heavenly ministers descending And again to heaven up-tending— Floating, mingling, interweaving— Rising, sinking, and receivin-^ Each from eacli, while each is giving On to each, and each relieving' Each, the pails of gold, the living Cun-ent through the air is heavin^^ • Breathing blessings, see them bendinis,zi?les* He, who was buried, Hath burst from the grave ! From death re-assuming The life that He gave. Is risen in glory, Is mighty to save I FAUST. And onward — still onsvard Arising, ascending, To the right hand of Power And Joy never-ending. Enthroned in brightness, His labours are over ; On earth His disciples Still struggle and suffer ! His children deserted Disconsolate languish— Thou art gone, and to glory- Hast left us in anguish ! Chorus of Angels. Christ is arisen. The Lord hath ascended 5 The dominion of death And corruption is ended. Your work of obedience Haste to begin ; Break from the bondage Of Satan and Sin. In your lives his laws obey Let love your governed bosoms sway- Blessings to the poor convey, 55 56 FAUST. To God with humble spirit piay, To Man His benefits display : Act thus, and He, your Mastkr dear, Though imseen, is ever near ! BEFORE THE GATE- Persons of all descriptions strolling out. A Party of Tradesmen. What are you going for in that direction ? Second Parly. We are going to the Jägerhaus. First Party. An^l we Are strolling down to the Mill. A Tradesman. I would advise you Rather to take a walk to the Wasserhof. A Second. The road to it is not a pleasant one. Seco?id Party. What are you for ? jl Third. I go ^vith the other party. A Fourth. Take my advice, and let us come to Burgdorf: There, any way, we shall be sure of finding The prettiest girls, and the brownest beer, And lots of row^s in the primest style. A Fifth. What, boy, Art at it still ? two drubbings, one would think. Might satisfy a reasonable man. I won't go there with you— I hate the place ! Servant Maid. No ! no !— not I— I'll go back to the town FAUST. 57 Another. We'll find him surely waiting at the poplars. T/ie First. Great good is that to me, — he'll give his arm To you — and dance with you — and why should I go For nothing in the world but your amusement? T/te Second. To-day he'll certainly not be alone, His curly-headed friend will be with him. Student. Look there— look there — how well those girls step out — Come, brother, come let's keep them company. Stiff beer, biting tobacco, and a girl In her smart dress, are the best things I know. Citizen's Daugh. Only look there — what pretty fellows these are ! Tis quite a shame, when they might have the best Of company, to see them running after A pair of vulgar minxes — servant girls. Second StiL [to the first\ Stay, easy — here are two fine girls behind us, Showily dressed. I know one of them well — And; I may say, am half in love with her. Innocent things ! with what a modest gait And shy step they affect to pace j and yet, For all their bashfulness, they'll take us with them. First Stu. Join them, yourself — not I — I hate restraint. Let us not lose time with them, or the game escapes, Give me the girl that gives a man no trouble, H n-r -^«-arsji 5S FAUST. That on the week-days does her week-day work, And, the day alter, work that she loves better. Citizen. Well, I do not like this new burgomaster. Not a day passes but he grows more insolent, Forsooth ! presuming on his dignity. ' And what good is he to us after all ? The town is growing worse from day to day, They are more strict upon us now than ever, And raise continually the rates and taxes. Beggar \sings\. Masiers goody and ladies bright, Rosy-cheehed, and richly dressed, Look 7iJ>on a wr etched sight, And relieve the poor distressed: Let me not in vain implore ! Pity me I — with chime and voice Woidd I cheer yon — let ihs poor When all else arc glad, rejoice! L must beg, for Jjmist live. Help me ! blessed they mho give ! When all other men are gay Is the beggar's harvest day. Second Cit. Well ! give me, on a saint's day, or a Sunday, When we have time for it, a tale of war And warlike doings far away in Turkey- How they are busy killing one another. Tis pleasant to stand gazing from the window, FAUST. 59 Draining your glass at times, and looking on The painted barges calmly gliding down The easy river. Then the homeward walk In the cool evening hour ; this makes the heart Glad, and at peace with all things and itself. Yes ! give me peace at home, and peaceful times ! Third Cit. Ay, so say I — break every head abroad — Turn all things topsy-turvy, so they leave us --- Quiet at home. Old Woman \to the Citizen's Daughters]. Ha ! but you are nicely dressed, And very pretty creatures — you'll win hearts To-day — ay, that you will — only don't look So very proud — yes ! that is something better — I know Avhat my young pets are wishing for, And thinking of, and they shall have it too ! Citizen's Dan. Come, Agatha, come on — I'd not be seen With the old witch in public ; yet she showed me, On last St. Andrew's night, in flesh and blood, My future lover. The Other, In the glass she showed Me mine. The figure was a soldier's, and With him a band of gay bold fellows. Since, I have been looking round, and seeking for him, But all in vain — 'tis folly — he won't come. Soldier. Toivns with turrets, walls, and fences, 6o FA UST. ^fa^den.6 FAUST. After our long walk we may rest us there. Here oft I've sate to muse ; here all alone By vigil, fast, and agonies of prayer — In Hope then rich, in Faith unwavering, \Vith tears and sighs, here was I wont to pray, — And supplicating hands, as thougli to wring From Him in heaven that He the plague uould sta}-. To me the praise I hear is mockery. Oh ! that you could into my bosom gaze, Read written there how little worthy we, Father or son, of these poor people's praise. ]N[y father, a reserved and moody man On Nature's holy circles still would pore, With honest ardour, after some strange plan That pleased his fancy, toiling evermore. And he would shut himself in secret cell, One or two adepts always at his side, Quaint recipes with fire and crucible. In this dark kitchen evermore he tried, Watching for the great moment's birth that might AnlaTOnistic elements unite. There in the gentle bath a Lion Red. Bold wooer he — was to the Lily wed ; And both were, while the furnace fire raged bright ; Hurried in torture on from bed to bed. If in the glass was given us to behold FAUST. 67 The Young Queen riäe in colours manifold, Mere was the medicine— the patients died. None asked " Who took it and remained alive ?'' —Thus in these mountains— in these valleys wide, ' Oar cure was than the plague a plague more fierce. To thousands have I given the poison— they Have withered— they are dead— and I survive To hear praise lavished on their murderers. Wag. How can this be so painful? What can men Do more than in their practice still obey The precepts of the science of their day ? AVhat you have from your father heard was then Heard in the docile spirit of belief. You in your day extend the limit-line Of science ; in due time your son will take His place— and for himself discoveries make Greater than thine, perhaps— yet but for thine Impossible. If so then, why this grief i^ Faust. Happy who still hath hope to rise above This sea of error ; strange that we in vain Seek knowledge each day needs : the knowledge of What never can avail us we attain. But with such musings let us sadden not This sweet hour ! see, where, in the sunset, gleam The village huts with green trees smiling round Each cottage in its own small garden plot. But the Sun sinks— day dies, and it would seem 68 FAUST, Witli day the Sim. Lut still doth he survive, Still speeds he on with life-diffusing beam— Oh, that no wing uplifts me from the ground. Nearer and nearer after him to strive ! Then should I the reposing world behold Still in this everlasting evening gloiv. The hill-tops kindling all— the vales at rest — The silver brooklet in its silent flow To where the yellow splendour of the West On the far river lies in trembling gold. In vain the rugged mountain rears his breast, '\^'ith darkening clift" and cave to bar my way, Onward in heaven, still onward is my flight, And now wide ocean, with each fervid bay. In sudden brightness breaks upon my sight, Till sinking seems at last the god of day. Then the new instinct wakens, and I breathe Pleaven still— still drink of his undying light. Before me day — behind me is the night- Above me heaven — and the wide wave beneath. A glorious dream — illusion brief and bright— For while I yet am dreaming he is gone. Alas ! from its captivity of earth, The body hath no wing whereon to lise, ■ And with the winged spirit voyage on : And yet will every one of human birth I'he feeling in our nature recognize. FAUST. 6