The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume I Part 74

Who's there?

MEPHISTOPHELES

A friend!

FAUST

A brute!

MEPHISTOPHELES

'Tis time to part.

MARTHA (_comes_)

Ay, it is late, good sir.

FAUST

Mayn't I attend you, then?

MARGARET

Oh no--my mother would--adieu, adieu!

FAUST

And must I really then take leave of you?

Farewell!

MARTHA

Good-bye!

MARGARET

Ere long to meet again!

[_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]

MARGARET

Good heavens! how all things far and near Must fill his mind--a man like this!

Abash'd before him I appear, And say to all things only, yes.

Poor simple child, I cannot see What 'tis that he can find in me.

[_Exit._]

FOREST AND CAVERN

FAUST (_alone_)

Spirit sublime! Thou gav'st me, gav'st me all For which I prayed! Not vainly hast thou turn'd To me thy countenance in flaming fire: Gavest me glorious nature for my realm, And also power to feel her and enjoy; Not merely with a cold and wondering glance, Thou dost permit me in her depths profound, As in the bosom of a friend to gaze.

Before me thou dost lead her living tribes, And dost in silent grove, in air and stream Teach me to know my kindred. And when roars The howling storm-blast through the groaning wood, Wrenching the giant pine, which in its fall Cras.h.i.+ng sweeps down its neighbor trunks and boughs, While hollow thunder from the hill resounds: Then thou dost lead me to some shelter'd cave, Dost there reveal me to myself, and show Of my own bosom the mysterious depths.

And when with soothing beam, the moon's pale orb Full in my view climbs up the pathless sky, From crag and dewy grove, the silvery forms Of by-gone ages hover, and a.s.suage The joy austere of contemplative thought.

Oh, that naught perfect is a.s.sign'd to man, I feel, alas! With this exalted joy, Which lifts me near, and nearer to the G.o.ds, Thou gav'st me this companion, unto whom I needs must cling, though cold and insolent, He still degrades me to myself, and turns Thy glorious gifts to nothing, with a breath.

He in my bosom with malicious zeal For that fair image fans a raging fire; From craving to enjoyment thus I reel, And in enjoyment languish for desire.

[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.]

MEPHISTOPHELES

Of this lone life have you not had your fill?

How for so long can it have charms for you?

'Tis well enough to try it if you will; But then away again to something new!

FAUST

Would you could better occupy your leisure, Than in disturbing thus my hours of joy.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Well! Well! I'll leave you to yourself with pleasure, A serious tone you hardly dare employ.

To part from one so crazy, harsh, and cross, Were not in truth a grievous loss.

The live-long day, for you I toil and fret; Ne'er from his wors.h.i.+p's face a hint I get, What pleases him, or what to let alone.

FAUST

Ay truly! that is just the proper tone!

He wearies me, and would with thanks be paid!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Poor Son of Earth, without my aid, How would thy weary days have flown?

Thee of thy foolish whims I've cured, Thy vain imaginations banished.

And but for me, be well a.s.sured, Thou from this sphere must soon have vanished.

In rocky hollows and in caverns drear, Why like an owl sit moping here?

Wherefore from dripping stones and moss with ooze embued, Dost suck, like any toad, thy food?

A rare, sweet pastime. Verily!

The doctor cleaveth still to thee.

FAUST

Dost comprehend what bliss without alloy From this wild wand'ring in the desert springs?-- Couldst thou but guess the new life-power it brings, Thou wouldst be fiend enough to envy me my joy.

MEPHISTOPHELES