The girls are wont—they have their reasons too—
To see that one, in every point, believes
The faith, that from his fathers he receives.
They think, if little mettle here he shows,
We too may lead him by the nose.
Faust.
Thou monster! dost not know how this fond soul,
Who yields her being’s whole
To God, and feels and knows
That from such faith alone her own salvation flows,
With many an anxious holy fear is tossed,
Lest he, whom best she loves, should be for ever lost?
Mephistopheles.
Thou super-sensual sensual fool,
A silly girl takes thee to school!
Faust.
Thou son of filth and fire, thou monster, thou!
Mephistopheles.
And then her skill in reading faces
Is not the least of all her graces!
When I come near, she feels, she knows not how,
And through my mask can read it on my brow
That I must be, if not the very Devil,
A genius far above the common level.
And now to-night——
Faust.
What’s that to thee?
Mephistopheles.
What brings my master joy, brings joy to me.
At the Well.
MargaretandEliza,with water-pitchers.
Eliza.
Have you heard nought of Barbara?
Margaret.
Nothing at all. I seldom stray
From home, to hear of other folk’s affairs.
Eliza.
You may believe me every whit;
Sibylla told it me to-day.
She too has been befooled: that comes of it,
When people give themselves such airs!
Margaret.
How so?
Eliza.
’Tis rank!
She eats and drinks for two, not now for one.
Margaret.
Poor girl!
Eliza.
Well, well! she has herself to thank.
How long did she not hang upon
The fellow!—Yes! that was a parading,
A dancing and a promenading!
Must always be before the rest!
And to wines and pasties be pressed;
Began then to be proud of her beauty,
And was so reckless of her duty
As to take presents from him too.
That was a cooing and a caressing!
No wonder if the flower too be amissing!
Margaret.
I pity her.
Eliza.
Methinks you have not much to do.
When we were not allowed to venture o’er
The threshold, night and day kept close at spinning,
There stood she, with her paramour,
Upon the bench, before the door,
Or in the lane, and hour for hour
Scarce knew the end from the beginning.
’Tis time that she should go to school
And learn—on the repentance-stool!
Margaret.
But he will take her for his wife.
Eliza.
He marry her! not for his life!
An active youth like him can find,
Where’er he pleases, quarters to his mind.
Besides, he’s gone!
Margaret.
That was not fair.
Eliza.
And if he should come back, she’ll not enjoy him more.
Her marriage wreath the boys will tear,
And we will strew chopped straw before the door.[n9][Exit.
Margaret.[going homewards]
How could I once so boldly chide
When a poor maiden stepped aside,
And scarce found words enough to name
The measure of a sister’s shame!
If it was black, I blackened it yet more,
And with that blackness not content,
More thickly still laid on the paint,
And blessed my stars, as cased in mail,
Against all frailties of the frail;
And now myself am what I chid before!—
Yet was each step that lured my slippery feet
So good, so lovely, so enticing sweet!
An enclosed Area.
(In a niche of the wall an image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower-jugs before it.)
Margaret.[placing fresh flowers in the jugs]
O mother rich in sorrows,
Bend down to hear my cry!
O bend thee, gracious mother,
To my sore agony!
Thy heart with swords is piercèd,
And tears are in thine eye,
Because they made thy dear Son
A cruel death to die.
Thou lookest up to heaven,
And deeply thou dost sigh;
His God and thine beholds thee,
And heals thine agony.
Oh! who can know
What bitter woe
Doth pierce me through and through?
The fear, the anguish of my heart,
Its every pang, its every smart,
Know’st thou, and only thou.
And wheresoe’er I wend me,
What woes, what woes attend me,
And how my bosom quakes!
And in my chamber lonely,
With weeping, weeping only,
My heart for sorrow breaks.
These flower-pots on the window
I wet with tears, ah me!
When with the early morning,
I plucked these flowers for thee.
And when the morn’s first sunbeam
Into my room was shed,
I sat, in deepest anguish,
And watched it on my bed.
O save me, Mother of Sorrows!
Unto my prayer give heed,
By all the swords that pierced thee,
O save me in my need!
Night. Street beforeMargaret’sdoor.
EnterValentin.
Valentin.
When I sat with our merry men,
At a carousal, now and then,
Where one may be allowed a boast,
And my messmates gave toast for toast
To the girl they prized the most,
And with a bumper then swilled o’er
Their praise, when they could praise no more;
I’d sit at ease, and lean upon
My elbow, while they prated on,
Till all the swaggerers had done,
And smile and stroke my beard, and fill
The goodly rummer to my hand,
And say, All that is very well!
But is there one, in all the land,
That with my Margaret may compare,
Or even tie the shoe to her?
Rap, rap! cling, clang! so went it round!
From man to man, with gleesome sound,
And one cried out with lusty breath,
“Yes, Gretchen! Gretchen! she’s the girl,
Of womanhood the perfect pearl!”
And all the braggarts were dumb as death.
And now,—the devil’s in the matter!
It is enough to make one clatter,
Like a rat, along the walls!
Shall every boor, with gibe and jeer,
Turn up his nose when I appear?
And every pettiest word that falls
Me, like a purseless debtor, torture?
And though I bruised them in a mortar,
I could not say that they were wrong.
What comes apace?—what creeps along?
A pair of them comes slinking by.
If ’tis the man I look for, I
Will dust his coat so well he’ll not,
By Jove! go living from the spot! [Retires.
EnterFaustandMephistopheles.
Faust.
As from the window of the vestry there,
The light of the undying lamp doth glare,
And sidewards gleameth, dimmer still and dimmer,
Till darkness closes round its fitful glimmer,
So murky is it in my soul.
Mephistopheles.
And I’ve a qualmish sort of feeling,
Like a cat on a rainy day,
Creeping round the wall, and stealing
Near the fireplace, if it may.
Yet am I in most virtuous trim
For a small turn at stealing, or at lechery;
So jumps already through my every limb
Walpurgis-Night, with all its glorious witchery.
The day after to-morrow brings again
The Feast, with fun and frolic in its train.
Faust.
Is it not time that you were raising
The treasure there in the distance blazing?
Mephistopheles.
Soon shall you sate your eyes with gazing,
And lift up from the urn yourself
A little mine of precious pelf.
I gave it a side-glance before—
Saw lion-dollars by the score.
Faust.
Is there no gaud?—no jewel at all?
To deck my sweet little mistress withal.
Mephistopheles.
O yes! I saw some trinkets for the girls,—
A sort of necklace strung with pearls.
Faust.
’Tis well that we have this to give her,
For empty-handed go I never.
Mephistopheles.
And yet a wise man ought to learn
To enjoy gratis, as well as to earn.
Now, that the stars are bright and clear the sky,
I’ll give you a touch of choicest melody;
A moral song—that, while we seem to school her,
With the more certainty we may befool her.
[Sings to the guitar.]
Why stands before
Her lover’s door,
Young Catherine here,
At early break of day?
Beware, beware!
He lets thee in,
A maiden in,
A maiden not away!
When full it blows,
He breaks the rose,
And leaves thee then,
A wretched outcast thing!
Take warning, then,
And yield to none
But who hath shown,
And changed with thee the ring.
Valentin.[advancing]
Ho, serenaders! by the Element!
You whoreson rascals! you rat-catchers, you!
First, to the devil with the instrument,
And, after it, the harper too!
Mephistopheles.
Donner and blitz! my good guitar is broken!
Valentin.
And your skull, too, anon: by this sure token!
Mephistopheles.
Quick, Doctor! here’s no time to tarry!
Keep close, as I shall lead the way.
Out with your goosewing![2]out, I say!
Make you the thrusts, and I will parry.
Valentin.
Then parry that!
Mephistopheles.
Why not?
Valentin.
And that!
Mephistopheles.
Of course!
Valentin.
I deem the devil is here, or something worse.
Good God! what’s this?—my arm is lamed!
Mephistopheles.[toFaust]
Have at him there!
Valentin.[falls]
O woe!
Mephistopheles.
Now is the lubber tamed!
But let’s be gone! why stand you gaping there?
They’ll raise a cry of murder! I can play
A game with the policeman, any day;
But blood spilt is a dangerous affair.
[ExeuntMephistophelesandFaust.
Martha.[at the window]
Ho! murder, ho!
Margaret.[at the window]
A light! a light!
Martha.[as above]
They bawl, they brawl, they strike, they fight.
The People.
And here lies one already dead!
Martha.[appearing below]
Where are the murderers? are they fled?
Margaret.[below]
Who’s this lies here?
The People.
Thy mother’s son.
Margaret.
Almighty God! my brother dead!
Valentin.
I die! I die!—’tis quickly said,
And yet more quickly done.
Why stand you, women, and weep and wail?
Draw near, and listen to my tale!
[They all come round him.]
My Margaret, mark me, you are young,
And in sense not overstrong;
You manage matters ill.
I tell thee in thine ear, that thou
Art, once for all, a strumpet,—now
Mayst go and take thy fill.
Margaret.
My brother! God! what do you mean?
Valentin.
Leave the Lord God out of the jest;
Said is said, and done is done;
Now you may manage, as you best
Know how to help the matter on.
You commenced the trade with one,
We shall have two, three, four, anon,
Next a dozen, and next a score,
And then the whole town at your door.
When sin is born it shuns the light
(For conscience guilt may not abide it),
And they draw the veil of night
Over head and ears, to hide it;
Yea, they would murder it, if they might.
But anon it waxes bolder,
And walks about in broad day-light,
And, uglier still as it grows older,
The less it offers to invite,
The more it courts the public sight.
Even now, methinks, I see the day,
When every honest citizen,
As from a corpse of tainted clay,
From thee, thou whore! will turn away.
Thy very heart shall fail thee then,
When they shall look thee in the face!
No more shall golden chain thee grace!
The Church shall spurn thee from its door!
The altar shall not own thee more!
Nor longer, with thy spruce lace-tippet,
Where the dance wheels, shalt thou trip it!
In some vile den of want and woe,
With beggars and cripples thou shalt bed;
And, if from Heaven forgiveness flow,
Earth shall rain curses on thy head!
Martha.
Speak softly, and prepare thy soul for death,
Nor mingle slander with thy parting breath!
Valentin.
Could I but reach thy withered skin,
Thou hag, thou bawd, so vile and shameless!
For such fair deed I might pass blameless,
To score the black mark from my blackest sin.
Margaret.
Brother, thou mak’st me feel a hell of pain!
Valentin.
I tell thee, all thy tears are vain!
When with thy honour thou didst part,
Thou dealt the blow that pierced my heart.
I go through death, with fearless mood,
To meet my God, as a soldier should. [Dies.
A Cathedral.
Mass, Organ, and Song.Margaretamid a crowd of people,Evil Spiritbehind her.
Evil Spirit.
How different, Margaret, was thy case,
When, in thine innocence, thou didst kneel
Before the altar,
And from the well-worn book
Didst lisp thy prayers,
Half childish play,
Half God in thy heart!
Margaret!
Where is thy head?
Within thy heart
What dire misdeed?
Prayest thou for thy mother’s soul, whom thou
Didst make to sleep a long, long sleep of sorrow?
Whose blood is on thy threshold?
—And, underneath thy heart,
Moves not the swelling germ of life already,
And, with its boding presence
Thee tortures, and itself?
Margaret.
Woe, woe!
That I might shake away the thoughts,
That hither flit and thither,
Against me!
Quire.
Dies iræ, dies illa,
Solvet saeclum in favilla.
[The organ sounds.
Evil Spirit.
Terror doth seize thee!
The trumpet sounds!
The graves quake!
And thy heart,
From its rest of ashes,
To fiery pain
Created again,
Quivers to life!
Margaret.
Would I were hence!
I feel as if the organ stopped
My breath,
And, at the hymn,
My inmost heart
Melted away!
Quire.
Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet adparebit,
Nil inultum remanebit.
Margaret.
I feel so straitened!
The pillar shafts
Enclasp me round!
The vault
Is closing o’er me!—Air!
Evil Spirit.
Yea! let them hide thee! but thy sin and shame
No vault can hide!
Air? Light? No!
Woe on thee! woe!
Quire.
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus?
Cum vix justus sit securus.
Evil Spirit.
The blessèd turn
Their looks away,
And the pure shudder
From touch of thee!
Woe!
Margaret.
Neighbour, help! help! I faint!
[She falls down in a swoon.
end of act fourth.
Walpurgis-Night.The Hartz Mountains. Neighbourhood of Schirke and Elend.
FaustandMephistopheles.
Mephistopheles.
Would you not like a broomstick to bestride?
Would God I had a stout old goat to ride!
The way is long; and I would rather spare me
This uphill work.
Faust.
While my good legs can bear me,
This knotted stick will serve my end.
What boots it to cut short the way?
Through the long labyrinth of vales to wend,
These rugged mountain-steeps to climb,
And hear the gushing waters’ ceaseless chime,
No better seasoning on my wish to-day
Could wait, to make the Brocken banquet prime!
The Spring is waving in the birchen bower,
And ev’n the pine begins to feel its power;
Shall we alone be strangers to its sway?
Mephistopheles.
No whiff I feel that hath a smell of May;
I am most wintry cold in every limb;
I’d sooner track my road o’er frost and snow.
How sadly mounts the imperfect moon!—so dim
Shines forth its red disk, with belated glow,
We run the risk, at every step, on stones
Or stumps of crazy trees, to break our bones.
You must allow me to request the aid
Of a Will-o-the-Wisp;—I see one right ahead,
And in the bog it blazes merrily.
Holla! my good friend! dare I be so free?
Two travellers here stand much in need of thee;
Why should’st thou waste thy flickering flame in vain?
Pray be so good as light us up the hill!
Will-o-the-Wisp.
Out of respect to you, I will restrain,
If possible, my ever-shifting will;
But all our natural genius, and our skill
Is zigzag; straight lines go against the grain.
Mephistopheles.
Ha! ha! hast learned from men how to declaim?
March on, I tell thee, in the Devil’s name!
Else will I blow thy flickering life-spark out.
Will-o-the-Wisp.
You are the master of the house, no doubt,
And therefore I obey you cheerfully.
Only remember! ’tis the first of May,
The Brocken is as mad as mad can be;
And when anignis fatuusleads the way,
You have yourselves to blame, if you should stray.
Faust, Mephistopheles, and Will-o-the-Wisp.[in reciprocal song]
Through the realms of fairy dreaming,
Through the air with magic teeming,
Guide us forward, guide us fairly,
Thanks to thee be rendered rarely;
Guide us quick, and guide us sure,
O’er the wide waste Brocken moor.
Trees on trees thick massed before us
Flit, and fling dark shadows o’er us,
Cliffs on cliffs in rugged masses
Nod above the narrow passes,
And each rock from jagged nose,
How it snorts, and how it blows!
Over turf and stone are pouring
Stream and streamlet, wildly roaring;
Is it rustling? is it singing?
Love’s sweet plaint with gentle winging!
Voices of those days, the dearest,
When our light of hope was clearest!
And the echo, like the sounds
Of ancient story, back rebounds.
Oohoo! Shoohoo! what a riot!
Owl and pewit, jay and piet!
Will no bird to-night be quiet?
What is this? red salamanders,
With long legs and swoll’n paunches,
Weaving wreathy fire-meanders
Through the thicket’s bristling branches!
And the trees, their roots outspreading
From the sand and rocky bedding,
Winding, stretching, twisting grimly,
Through the dun air darting dimly
Seek to seize us, seek to grasp us,
And with snaky coils enclasp us!
And the mice in motley muster,
Red and white, and blue and grey,
Thick as bees that hang in cluster,
Crowd along the heathy way.
And the fire-flies shooting lightly
Through the weirdly winding glade,
With bewildering escort, brightly
Lead the streaming cavalcade!
But tell me, in this strange confusion,
What is real, what delusion?
Do we walk with forward faces,
Or stand and halt with baffled paces?
All things seem to change their places,
Rocks and trees to make grimaces,
And the lights in witchy row,
Twinkle more and more they blow!
Mephistopheles.
Hold me tightly by the cue!
From this hillock, we may view,
At leisure, with admiring gaze,
How Mammon in the mount doth blaze!
Faust.
How strangely through the glooming glens
Dim sheen, like morning redness, glimmers!
Ev’n to the darkest, deepest dens
With its long streaky rays it shimmers.
Here mounts the smoke, there rolls the steam,
There flames through the white vapours gleam,
Here like a thread along the mountain
It creeps; there gushes in a fountain!
Here stretching out, in many a rood,
Along the vale, its veinèd flood,
And here at once it checks its flight,
And bursts in globes of studded light.
There sparks are showering on the ground,
Like golden sand besprinkled round,
And lo! where all the rocky height,
From head to foot is bathed in light!
Mephistopheles.
Hath not old Mammon lit with goodly flame
His palace for the jubilee?
Thou art in luck to see the game;
Even now I scent the lusty company.
Faust.
How the mad storm doth howl and hiss
And beats my neck with angry buffeting!
Mephistopheles.
To the old mountain’s hard ribs cling,
Or the strong blast will hurl thee down the abyss;
The night with clouds is overcast;
Hear in the woods the grinding of the blast!
How the frightened owlets flit!
How the massive pillars split
Of the dark pine-palaces!
How the branches creak and break!
How the riven stems are groaning!
How the gaping roots are moaning!
In terrible confusion all,
One on another clashing, they fall,
And through the clefts, where their wrecks are buried,
Hissing and howling the winds are hurried.
Sounds of voices dost thou hear?
Voices far, and voices near?
And, all the mountain side along,
Streams a raving wizard song.
Witches.[in chorus]
The witches to the Brocken ride,
The stubble is yellow, the corn is green;
A merry crew to a merry scene,
And good Sir Urian is the guide.[n10]
Over stock and stone we float,
Wrinkled hag and rank old goat.
A Voice.
Old mother Baubo comes up now,
Alone, and riding on a sow.
Chorus.
Honour to him to whom honour is due!
Lady Baubo heads the crew!
On the back of a sow, with the wings of the wind,
And all the host of witches behind.
A Voice.
Sister, which way came you?
A Voice.
By Ilsenstein! and I looked into
An owlet’s nest, as on I fared,
That with its two eyes broadly stared!
A Voice.
The deuce! at what a devil’s pace
You go; this march is not a race.
A Voice.
It tore me, it flayed me!
These red wounds it made me!
Witches.[in chorus]
The road is broad, the road is long,
Why crowd you so on one another?
Scrapes the besom, pricks the prong,
Chokes the child, and bursts the mother.
Wizards.[semi-chorus]
We trail us on, like very snails,
The women fly with flaunting sails;
For, when we run Squire Satan’s races,
They always win by a thousand paces.
Semi-Chorus.
Not quite so bad: the women need
A thousand paces to help their speed;
But let them speed what most they can,
With one spring comes up the man.
Voice.[from above]
Come up! come up from the lake with me.
Voices.[from below]
Right gladly would we mount with thee;
We wash, and wash, and cease from washing never;
Our skins are as white as white can be,
But we are as dry and barren as ever.
Both Choruses.
The wind is hushed, the stars take flight,
The sullen moon hath veiled her light,
The magic choir from whizzing wings,
Long lines of sparkling glory flings.
Voice.[from below]
Stop, stop!
Voice.[from above]
Who bawls so loud from the cleft?
Voice.[from below]
Let me go with you! let me not be left!
Three hundred years I grope and grope
Round the base and up the slope,
But still the summit cheats my hope.
I fain would be a merry guest
At Satan’s banquet with the rest.
Both Choruses.
On broomstick, and on lusty goat,
On pitchfork, and on stick, we float;
And he, to-day who cannot soar,
Is a lost man for evermore.
Half-Witch.[below]
I hobble on behind them all,
The others scarcely hear my call!
I find no rest at home: and here,
I limp on lamely in the rear.
Chorus of Witches.
The ointment gives our sinews might,[n11]
For us each rag is sail enough,
We find a ship in every trough;
Whoso will fly must fly to-night.
Both Choruses.
While we upon the summit ride,
Be yours to sweep along the side;
Up and down, and far and wide,
On the left, and on the right,
Witch and wizard massed together,
Scour the moor and sweep the heather,
Bravely on Walpurgis night!
[They alight.
Mephistopheles.
What a thronging, and jolting, and rolling, and rattling!
What a whizzing, and whirling, and jostling, and battling!
What a sparkling, and blazing, and stinking, and burning!
And witches that all topsy-turvy are turning!—
Hold fast by me, or I shall lose you quite,
Where are you?
Faust.[at a distance]
Here!
Mephistopheles.
What! so far in the rear!
Why then ’tis time that I should use my right,
As master of the house to-night.
Make way! Squire Voland comes,[n12]sweet mob, make way!
Here, Doctor, hold by me!—and now, I say,
We must cut clear
Of this wild hubbub, while we may;
Even my cloth is puzzled here.
See’st thou that light on yonder mound quite near,
It hath a most peculiar glare,
We’ll slip in there,
And watch behind the bush the humours of the Fair.
Faust.
Strange son of contradiction!—may’st even guide us!
A rare conceit! of course you must be right;
This weary way we march on famed Walpurgis night,
Like hermits in a corner here to hide us!
Mephistopheles.
Lo! where the flames mount up with bickering glee;
In sooth it is a goodly company.
In such a place one cannot be alone.
Faust.
And yet a place I’d rather own
Upon the top, where whirling smoke I see;
There thousands to the evil Spirit hie,
And many a riddle there he will untie.
Mephistopheles.
Yes: and for every knot he disentangles,
He’ll make another to produce new wrangles.
Let the great world rant and riot,
We’ll know to house us here in quiet;
In the great world ’tis a sanctioned plan,
Each makes a little world the best he can.
Look there; you see young witches without cover,
And old ones prudently veiled over;
Yield but to me, and I can promise thee,
With little labour, mickle glee.
I hear their noisy instruments begin!
Confound their scraping!—one must bear the din.
Come, come! what must be must be—let’s go in!
With my good introduction on this night,
Thou shalt have laughter to thy heart’s delight.
What say’st thou, friend? this is no common show,
A hundred lights are burning in a row,
You scarce may see the end;
They dance, they talk, they cook, they drink, they court;
Now tell me, saw you ever better sport?
Faust.
Say, in what character do you intend
To appear here, and introduce your friend?
Devil or conjurer?
Mephistopheles.
I love incognito,
Yet on a gala-day my order I may show;
And, though a garter here is but of small avail,
The famous horse’s foot I ne’er yet knew to fail.
See even now that cautious creeping snail!
With her long feeling visage, she
Has smelt out something of hell in me.
Do what I can, they have a snout,
In this keen air to scent me out;
Come! come; from fire to fire we roam; the game
Be mine to start, and yours to woo the dame.
[To some who are sitting round a glimmering coal-fire.]
Why mope you here, old sirs, toasting your toes?
Methinks your Brocken hours were better spent
Amid the youthful roar and merriment;
One is enough alone at home, God knows.
General.
Who would rely upon the faith of nations!
They leave you thankless, when their work is done;
The people, like the women, pour libations
Only in honour of the rising sun.
Minister.
The liberties these modern changes bring,
I must confess I cannot praise;
The good old times, when we were everything,
These were the truly golden days.
Parvenu.
We, too, pushed forward with the pushing crew,
And for the need could stretch a point or two;
But now all’s changed; and with the whirling bucket,
We lose the fruit, just when our hand would pluck it.
Author.
No solid work now suits the reading nation,
And year by year the world more shallow grows;
And, for the glib-tongued rising generation,
They hang their wisdom on their up-turned nose!
Mephistopheles.[Who all at once appears very old]
The people here seem ripe for Doom’s day; I
Suspect the world is now on its last legs;
And, since mine own good cask is running dry,
Men and their ways, I guess, are near the dregs!
Pedlar-Witch.
Good sirs, I pray you pass not by,
Cast on my wares a friendly eye!
One cannot see such rich display
Of curious trinkets every day.
Yet is there nothing in my store
(Which far all other stores excels),
That hath not done some mischief sore
To earth, and all on earth that dwells;
No dagger by which blood hath not been shed,
No cup from which, through sound and healthy life,
Corroding fiery juice hath not been spread,
No gaud but hath seduced some lovely wife,
No sword that hath not made a truce miscarry,
Or stabbed behind the back its adversary.
Mephistopheles.
Good lady cousin! you come rather late.
Your wares, believe me, are quite out of date;
Deal in the new and newest; that
Our palate smacks; all else is flat.
Faust.
This is a fair that beats the Leipzig hollow!
My head is so confused, I scarce can follow.
Mephistopheles.
To the top the stream is rushing,
And we are pushed, when we think we are pushing.
Faust.
Who, then, is that?
Mephistopheles.
Look at her well.
’Tis Lilith.[n13]
Faust.
Who?
Mephistopheles.
Adam’s first wife. Beware,
Art thou a wise man, of her glossy hair!
’Tis fair to look on, but its look is fell.
Those locks with which she outshines all the train,
When she hath bound a young man with that chain,
She’ll hold him fast; he’ll scarce come back again.
Faust.
There sit an old and young one on the sward;
They seem to have been dancing somewhat hard.
Mephistopheles.
O! once begun, they’ll go on like the devil.
Come, come! they rise again—let’s join the revel.
[FaustandMephistophelesjoin the dance; the former with the Young Witch as his partner; the latter with the Old one.
Faust.[dancing with the young Witch]
A lovely dream once came to me,
I saw in my sleep an apple-tree;
Two lovely apples on it did shine;
I clomb the pole to make them mine.
The Young Witch.
For apples your sire in Paradise
And primal dame had longing eyes:
And, if your eyes are wise to see,
You’ll find such apples on my tree.
Mephistopheles.[dancing with the old Witch]
An ugly dream once came to me,
I dreamed I saw a cloven tree;
In the tree there sat an ugly owl;
I called it fair, though it was foul.
The Old Witch.
My best salute this night shall be,
Thou knight of the cloven foot, to thee;
A cloven tree with an ugly owl,
Am I for thee, or fair, or foul.
Proctophantasmist.[n14][to the dancers]
Listen to order, you presumptuous brood!
Have we not proved beyond disputing,
That ghosts on terra firma have no footing?
And yet you dance like any flesh and blood?
The Young Witch.[dancing]
What wants he here, that rude-like fellow there?
Faust.[dancing]
O, he is everywhere!
What others dance ’tis his to prize;
Each step he cannot criticise
Had as well not been made. But in the dance
It grieves him most when we advance.
If we would wheel still round and round in a ring,
As he is fond to do in his old mill,
He would not take it half so ill;
Especially if you take care to bring
Your praiseful offering to his master skill.
Proctophantasmist.
What! still there, phantoms? this is past endurance!
In this enlightened age you have the assurance
To show your face and play your tricks undaunted;
We are so wise, and yet a man’s own house is haunted.
How long have I not swept the cobwebs of delusion,
And still the world remains in the same wild confusion!
The Young Witch.
Be quiet then, and seek some other place!
Proctophantasmist.
I tell you, Spirits, in your face,
This intellectual thrall I cannot bear it;