Part 9

_Mephistopheles_. And tie up many another, too. Let the great world there rave and riot, We here will house ourselves in quiet. The saying has been long well known: In the great world one makes a small one of his own. I see young witches there quite naked all, And old ones who, more prudent, cover. For my sake some flight things look over; The fun is great, the trouble small. I hear them tuning instruments! Curs'd jangle! Well! one must learn with such things not to wrangle. Come on! Come on! For so it needs must be, Thou shalt at once be introduced by me. And I new thanks from thee be earning. That is no scanty space; what sayst thou, friend? Just take a look! thou scarce canst see the end. There, in a row, a hundred fires are burning; They dance, chat, cook, drink, love; where can be found Any thing better, now, the wide world round?

_Faust_. Wilt thou, as things are now in this condition, Present thyself for devil, or magician?

_Mephistopheles_. I've been much used, indeed, to going incognito;

But then, on gala-day, one will his order show. No garter makes my rank appear, But then the cloven foot stands high in honor here. Seest thou the snail? Look there! where she comes creeping yonder! Had she already smelt the rat, I should not very greatly wonder. Disguise is useless now, depend on that. Come, then! we will from fire to fire wander, Thou shalt the wooer be and I the pander. [_To a party who sit round expiring embers_.] Old gentlemen, you scarce can hear the fiddle! You'd gain more praise from me, ensconced there in the middle, 'Mongst that young rousing, tousing set. One can, at home, enough retirement get.

_General_. Trust not the people's fickle favor! However much thou mayst for them have done. Nations, as well as women, ever, Worship the rising, not the setting sun.

_Minister_. From the right path we've drifted far away, The good old past my heart engages; Those were the real golden ages, When such as we held all the sway.

_Parvenu_. We were no simpletons, I trow, And often did the thing we should not; But all is turning topsy-turvy now, And if we tried to stem the wave, we could not.

_Author_. Who on the whole will read a work today, Of moderate sense, with any pleasure? And as regards the dear young people, they Pert and precocious are beyond all measure.

_Mephistopheles_ [_who all at once appears very old_]. The race is ripened for the judgment day: So I, for the last time, climb the witch-mountain, thinking, And, as my cask runs thick, I say, The world, too, on its lees is sinking.

_Witch-broker_. Good gentlemen, don't hurry by! The opportunity's a rare one! My stock is an uncommon fair one, Please give it an attentive eye. There's nothing in my shop, whatever, But on the earth its mate is found; That has not proved itself right clever To deal mankind some fatal wound. No dagger here, but blood has some time stained it; No cup, that has not held some hot and poisonous juice, And stung to death the throat that drained it; No trinket, but did once a maid seduce; No sword, but hath some tie of sacred honor riven, Or haply from behind through foeman's neck been driven.

_Mephistopheles_. You're quite behind the times, I tell you, Aunty! By-gones be by-gones! done is done! Get us up something new and jaunty! For new things now the people run.

_Faust_. To keep my wits I must endeavor! Call this a fair! I swear, I never--!

_Mephistopheles_. Upward the billowy mass is moving; You're shoved along and think, meanwhile, you're shoving.

_Faust_. What woman's that?

_Mephistopheles_. Mark her attentively. That's Lilith.[37]

_Faust_. Who?

_Mephistopbeles_. Adam's first wife is she. Beware of her one charm, those lovely tresses, In which she shines preeminently fair. When those soft meshes once a young man snare, How hard 'twill be to escape he little guesses.

_Faust_. There sit an old one and a young together; They've skipped it well along the heather!

_Mephistopheles_. No rest from that till night is through. Another dance is up; come on! let us fall to.

_Faust_ [_dancing with the young one_]. A lovely dream once came to me; In it I saw an apple-tree; Two beauteous apples beckoned there, I climbed to pluck the fruit so fair.

_The Fair one_. Apples you greatly seem to prize, And did so even in Paradise. I feel myself delighted much That in my garden I have such.

_Mephistopheles_ [_with the old hag_]. A dismal dream once came to me; In it I saw a cloven tree, It had a ------ but still, I looked on it with right good-will.

_The Hog_. With best respect I here salute The noble knight of the cloven foot! Let him hold a ------ near, If a ------ he does not fear.

_Proctophantasmist_.[38] What's this ye undertake? Confounded crew! Have we not giv'n you demonstration? No spirit stands on legs in all creation, And here you dance just as we mortals do!

_The Fair one_ [_dancing_]. What does that fellow at our ball?

_Faust_ [_dancing_]. Eh! he must have a hand in all. What others dance that he appraises. Unless each step he criticizes, The step as good as no step he will call. But when we move ahead, that plagues him more than all. If in a circle you would still keep turning, As he himself in his old mill goes round, He would be sure to call that sound! And most so, if you went by his superior learning.

_Proctophantasmist_. What, and you still are here! Unheard off obstinates! Begone! We've cleared it up! You shallow pates! The devilish pack from rules deliverance boasts. We've grown so wise, and Tegel[39] still sees ghosts. How long I've toiled to sweep these cobwebs from the brain, And yet--unheard of folly! all in vain.

_The Fair one_. And yet on us the stupid bore still tries it!

_Proctophantasmist_. I tell you spirits, to the face, I give to spirit-tyranny no place, My spirit cannot exercise it. [_They dance on_.] I can't succeed to-day, I know it; Still, there's the journey, which I like to make, And hope, before the final step I take, To rid the world of devil and of poet.

_Mephistopheles_. You'll see him shortly sit into a puddle, In that way his heart is reassured; When on his rump the leeches well shall fuddle, Of spirits and of spirit he'll be cured. [_To_ FAUST, _who has left the dance_.] Why let the lovely girl slip through thy fingers, Who to thy dance so sweetly sang?

_Faust_. Ah, right amidst her singing, sprang A wee red mouse from her mouth and made me cower.

_Mephistopheles_. That's nothing wrong! You're in a dainty way; Enough, the mouse at least wan't gray. Who minds such thing in happy amorous hour?

_Faust_. Then saw I--

_Mephistopheles_. What?

_Faust_. Mephisto, seest thou not Yon pale, fair child afar, who stands so sad and lonely, And moves so slowly from the spot, Her feet seem locked, and she drags them only. I must confess, she seems to me To look like my own good Margery.

_Mephistopheles_. Leave that alone! The sight no health can bring. it is a magic shape, an idol, no live thing. To meet it never can be good! Its haggard look congeals a mortal's blood, And almost turns him into stone; The story of Medusa thou hast known.

_Faust_. Yes, 'tis a dead one's eyes that stare upon me, Eyes that no loving hand e'er closed; That is the angel form of her who won me, Tis the dear breast on which I once reposed.

_Mephistopheles_. 'Tis sorcery all, thou fool, misled by passion's dreams! For she to every one his own love seems.

_Faust_. What bliss! what woe! Methinks I never My sight from that sweet form can sever. Seeft thou, not thicker than a knife-blade's back, A small red ribbon, fitting sweetly The lovely neck it clasps so neatly?

_Mephistopheles_. I see the streak around her neck. Her head beneath her arm, you'll next behold her; Perseus has lopped it from her shoulder,-- But let thy crazy passion rest! Come, climb with me yon hillock's breast, Was e'er the Prater[40] merrier then? And if no sorcerer's charm is o'er me, That is a theatre before me. What's doing there?

_Servibilis_. They'll straight begin again. A bran-new piece, the very last of seven; To have so much, the fashion here thinks fit. By Dilettantes it is given; 'Twas by a Dilettante writ. Excuse me, sirs, I go to greet you; I am the curtain-raising Dilettant.

_Mephistopheles_. When I upon the Blocksberg meet you, That I approve; for there's your place, I grant.

WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM, OR OBERON AND TITANIA'S GOLDEN NUPTIALS.

_Intermezzo_.

_Theatre manager_. Here, for once, we rest, to-day, Heirs of Mieding's[41] glory. All the scenery we display-- Damp vale and mountain hoary!

_Herald_. To make the wedding a golden one, Must fifty years expire; But when once the strife is done, I prize the _gold_ the higher.

_Oberon_. Spirits, if my good ye mean, Now let all wrongs be righted; For to-day your king and queen Are once again united.

_Puck_. Once let Puck coming whirling round, And set his foot to whisking, Hundreds with him throng the ground, Frolicking and frisking.

_Ariel_. Ariel awakes the song With many a heavenly measure; Fools not few he draws along, But fair ones hear with pleasure.

_Oberon_. Spouses who your feuds would smother, Take from us a moral! Two who wish to love each other, Need only first to quarrel.

_Titania_. If she pouts and he looks grim, Take them both together, To the north pole carry him, And off with her to t'other.

_Orchestra Tutti_.

_Fortissimo_. Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, these, And kin in all conditions, Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees, We take for our musicians!

_Solo_. See, the Bagpipe comes! fall back! Soap-bubble's name he owneth. How the _Schnecke-schnicke-schnack_ Through his snub-nose droneth! _Spirit that is just shaping itself_. Spider-foot, toad's-belly, too, Give the child, and winglet! 'Tis no animalcule, true, But a poetic thinglet.

_A pair of lovers_. Little step and lofty bound Through honey-dew and flowers; Well thou trippest o'er the ground, But soarst not o'er the bowers.

_Curious traveller_. This must be masquerade! How odd! My very eyes believe I? Oberon, the beauteous God Here, to-night perceive I!

_Orthodox_. Neither claws, nor tail I see! And yet, without a cavil, Just as "the Gods of Greece"[42] were, he Must also be a devil.

_Northern artist_. What here I catch is, to be sure, But sketchy recreation; And yet for my Italian tour 'Tis timely preparation.

_Purist_. Bad luck has brought me here, I see! The rioting grows louder. And of the whole witch company, There are but two, wear powder.

_Young witch_. Powder becomes, like petticoat, Your little, gray old woman: Naked I sit upon my goat, And show the untrimmed human.

_Matron_. To stand here jawing[43] with you, we Too much good-breeding cherish; But young and tender though you be, I hope you'll rot and perish.

_Leader of the music_. Fly-snouts and gnat-noses, please, Swarm not so round the naked! Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees, Keep time and don't forsake it!

_Weathercock_ [_towards one side_]. Find better company, who can! Here, brides attended duly! There, bachelors, ranged man by man, Most hopeful people truly!

_Weathercock [towards the other side_]. And if the ground don't open straight, The crazy crew to swallow, You'll see me, at a furious rate, Jump down to hell's black hollow.

_Xenia[_44] We are here as insects, ah! Small, sharp nippers wielding, Satan, as our _cher papa_, Worthy honor yielding.

_Hennings_. See how naïvely, there, the throng Among themselves are jesting, You'll hear them, I've no doubt, ere long, Their good kind hearts protesting.

_Musagetes_. Apollo in this witches' group Himself right gladly loses; For truly I could lead this troop Much easier than the muses.

_Ci-devant genius of the age_. Right company will raise man up. Come, grasp my skirt, Lord bless us! The Blocksberg has a good broad top, Like Germany's Parnassus.

_Curious traveller_. Tell me who is that stiff man? With what stiff step he travels! He noses out whate'er he can. "He scents the Jesuit devils."

_Crane_. In clear, and muddy water, too, The long-billed gentleman fishes; Our pious gentlemen we view Fingering in devils' dishes.

_Child of this world_. Yes, with the pious ones, 'tis clear, "All's grist that comes to their mill;" They build their tabernacles here, On Blocksberg, as on Carmel.

_Dancer_. Hark! a new choir salutes my ear! I hear a distant drumming. "Be not disturbed! 'mong reeds you hear The one-toned bitterns bumming."

_Dancing-master._ How each his legs kicks up and flings, Pulls foot as best he's able! The clumsy hops, the crooked springs, 'Tis quite disreputable!

_Fiddler_. The scurvy pack, they hate, 'tis clear, Like cats and dogs, each other. Like Orpheus' lute, the bagpipe here Binds beast to beast as brother.

_Dogmatist_. You'll not scream down my reason, though, By criticism's cavils. The devil's something, that I know, Else how could there be devils?

_Idealist_. Ah, phantasy, for once thy sway Is guilty of high treason. If all I see is I, to-day, 'Tis plain I've lost my reason.

_Realist_. To me, of all life's woes and plagues, Substance is most provoking, For the first time I feel my legs Beneath me almost rocking.

_Supernaturalist_. I'm overjoyed at being here, And even among these rude ones; For if bad spirits are, 'tis clear, There also must be good ones.

_Skeptic_. Where'er they spy the flame they roam, And think rich stores to rifle, Here such as I are quite at home, For _Zweifel_ rhymes with _Teufel_.[45]

_Leader of the music_. Grass-hid cricket, frogs in trees, You cursed dilettanti! Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, peace! Musicians you, right jaunty!

_The Clever ones_. Sans-souci we call this band Of merry ones that skip it; Unable on our feet to stand, Upon our heads we trip it.

_The Bunglers_. Time was, we caught our tit-bits, too, God help us now! that's done with! We've danced our leathers entirely through, And have only bare soles to run with.

_Jack-o'lanterns_. From the dirty bog we come, Whence we've just arisen: Soon in the dance here, quite at home, As gay young _sparks_ we'll glisten.

_Shooting star_. Trailing from the sky I shot, Not a star there missed me: Crooked up in this grassy spot, Who to my legs will assist me?

_The solid men_. Room there! room there! clear the ground! Grass-blades well may fall so; Spirits are we, but 'tis found They have plump limbs also.

_Puck_. Heavy men! do not, I say, Like elephants' calves go stumping: Let the plumpest one to-day Be Puck, the ever-jumping.

_Ariel_. If the spirit gave, indeed, If nature gave you, pinions, Follow up my airy lead To the rose-dominions!

_Orchestra_ [_pianissimo_]. Gauzy mist and fleecy cloud Sun and wind have banished. Foliage rustles, reeds pipe loud, All the show has vanished.

DREARY DAY.[46]

_Field_.

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.

_Faust_. In wretchedness! In despair! Long hunted up and down the earth, a miserable fugitive, and caught at last! Locked up as a malefactor in prison, to converse with horrible torments--the sweet, unhappy creature! Even to this pass! even to this!--Treacherous, worthless spirit, and this thou hast hidden from me!--Stand up here--stand up! Roll thy devilish eyes round grimly in thy head! Stand and defy me with thy intolerable presence! Imprisoned! In irretrievable misery! Given over to evil spirits and to the judgment of unfeeling humanity, and me meanwhile thou lullest in insipid dissipations, concealest from me her growing anguish, and leavest her without help to perish!

_Mephistopheles_. She is not the first!

_Faust_. Dog! abominable monster! Change him, thou Infinite Spirit! change the worm back into his canine form, as he was often pleased in the night to trot before me, to roll before the feet of the harmless wanderer, and, when he fell, to hang on his shoulders. Change him again into his favorite shape, that he may crawl before me on his belly in the sand, and that I may tread him under foot, the reprobate!--Not the first! Misery! Misery! inconceivable by any human soul! that more than one creature ever sank into the depth of this wretchedness, that the first in its writhing death-agony did not atone for the guilt of all the rest before the eyes of the eternally Forgiving! My very marrow and life are consumed by the misery of this single one; thou grinnest away composedly at the fate of thousands!

_Mephistopheles_. Here we are again at our wits' ends already, where the thread of sense, with you mortals, snaps short. Why make a partnership with us, if thou canst not carry it through? Wilt fly, and art not proof against dizziness? Did we thrust ourselves on thee, or thou on us?

_Faust_. Gnash not so thy greedy teeth against me! It disgusts me!--Great and glorious spirit, thou that deignedst to appear to me, who knowest my heart and soul, why yoke me to this shame-fellow, who feeds on mischief and feasts on ruin?

_Mephistopheles_. Hast thou done?

_Faust_. Rescue her! O woe be unto thee! The most horrible curse on thee for thousands of years!

_Mephistopheles_. I cannot loose the bonds of the avenger, nor open his bolts.--Rescue her!--Who was it that plunged her into ruin? I or thou? [FAUST _looks wildly round_.] Grasp'st thou after the thunder? Well that it was not given to you miserable mortals! To crush an innocent respondent, that is a sort of tyrant's-way of getting room to breathe in embarrassment.

_Faust_. Lead me to her! She shall be free!

_Mephistopheles_. And the danger which thou incurrest? Know that the guilt of blood at thy hand still lies upon the town. Over the place of the slain, avenging spirits hover and lurk for the returning murderer.

_Faust_. That, too, from thee? Murder and death of a world upon thee, monster! Lead me thither, I say, and free her!

_Mephistopheles_. I will lead thee, and hear what I can do! Have I all power in heaven and on earth? I will becloud the turnkey's senses; possess thyself of the keys, and bear her out with human hand. I will watch! The magic horses shall be ready, and I will bear you away. So much I can do.

_Faust_. Up and away!

NIGHT. OPEN FIELD.

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Scudding along on black horses_.

_Faust_. What's doing, off there, round the gallows-tree?[47]

_Mephistopheles_. Know not what they are doing and brewing.

_Faust_. Up they go--down they go--wheel about, reel about.

_Mephistopheles_. A witches'-crew.

_Faust_. They're strewing and vowing.

_Mephistopheles_. Pass on! Pass on!

PRISON.

FAUST [_with a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door_] A long unwonted chill comes o'er me, I feel the whole great load of human woe. Within this clammy wall that frowns before me Lies one whom blinded love, not guilt, brought low! Thou lingerest, in hope to grow bolder! Thou fearest again to behold her! On! Thy shrinking slowly hastens the blow! [_He grasps the key. Singing from within_.] My mother, the harlot, That strung me up! My father, the varlet, That ate me up! My sister small, She gathered up all The bones that day, And in a cool place did lay; Then I woke, a sweet bird, at a magic call; Fly away, fly away!

_Faust [unlocking_]. She little dreams, her lover is so near, The clanking chains, the rustling straw can hear; [_He enters_.]

_Margaret [burying herself in the bed_]. Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness!

_Faust_ [_softly_]. Hush! hush! I come to free thee; thou art dreaming.

_Margaret_ [_prostrating herself before him_]. Art thou a man, then feel for my distress.

_Faust_. Thou'lt wake the guards with thy loud screaming! [_He seizes the chains to tin lock them._]

_Margaret_ [_on her knees_]. Headsman, who's given thee this right O'er me, this power! Thou com'st for me at dead of night; In pity spare me, one short hour! Wilt't not be time when Matin bell has rung? [_She stands up._] Ah, I am yet so young, so young! And death pursuing! Fair was I too, and that was my undoing. My love was near, far is he now! Tom is the wreath, the scattered flowers lie low. Take not such violent hold of me! Spare me! what harm have I done to thee? Let me not in vain implore thee. Thou ne'er till now sawft her who lies before thee!

_Faust_. O sorrow worse than death is o'er me!

_Margaret_. Now I am wholly in thy power. But first I'd nurse my child--do not prevent me. I hugged it through the black night hour; They took it from me to torment me, And now they say I killed the pretty flower. I shall never be happy again, I know. They sing vile songs at me! 'Tis bad in them to do it! There's an old tale that ends just so, Who gave that meaning to it?

_Faust [prostrates himself_]. A lover at thy feet is bending, Thy bonds of misery would be rending.

_Margaret [flings herself beside him_]. O let us kneel, the saints for aid invoking! See! 'neath the threshold smoking, Fire-breathing, Hell is seething! There prowling, And grim under cover, Satan is howling!

_Faust [aloud_]. Margery! Margery!

_Margaret [listening_]. That was the voice of my lover! [_She springs up. The chains fall off_.]

Where is he? Where? He calls. I hear him. I'm free! Who hinders? I will be near him. I'll fly to his neck! I'll hold him! To my bosom I'll enfold him! He stood on the threshold--called Margery plainly! Hell's howling and clattering to drown it sought vainly,-- Through the devilish, grim scoffs, that might turn one to stone, I caught the sweet, loving, enrapturing tone.

_Faust_. 'Tis I!

_Margaret_. 'Tis thou! O say it once again. [_Clasping again._] 'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain? And where the dungeon's anguish? Joy-giver! 'Tis thou! And come to deliver! I am delivered! Again before me lies the street, Where for the first time thou and I did meet. And the garden-bower, Where we spent that evening hour.

_Faust_ [_trying to draw her away_]. Come! Come with me!

_Margaret_. O tarry! I tarry so gladly where thou tarriest. [_Caressing him._]

_Faust_. Hurry! Unless thou hurriest, Bitterly we both must rue it.

_Margaret_. Kiss me! Canst no more do it? So short an absence, love, as this, And forgot how to kiss? What saddens me so as I hang about thy neck? When once, in thy words, thy looks, such a heaven of blisses Came o'er me, I thought my heart would break, And it seemed as if thou wouldst smother me with kisses. Kiss thou me! Else I kiss thee! [_She embraces him._] Woe! woe! thy lips are cold, Stone-dumb. Where's thy love left? Oh! I'm bereft! Who robbed me? [_She turns from him_]

_Faust_. O come! Take courage, my darling! Let us go; I clasp-thee with unutterable glow; But follow me! For this alone I plead!

_Margaret [turning to him_]. Is it, then, thou? And is it thou indeed?

_Faust_. 'Tis I! Come, follow me!

_Margaret_. Thou break'st my chain, And tak'st me to thy breast again! How comes it, then, that thou art not afraid of me? And dost thou know, my friend, who 'tis thou settest free?

_Faust_. Come! come! The night is on the wane.