Walpurgis-Night.

The Hartz Mountains. Neighborhood of Schirke and Elend.

Faust and Mephistopheles.

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 an ignis fatuus leads 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 stones 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 vapors 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.

Honor to him to whom honor 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 humors 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 labor, 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 honor 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!

Peddler-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.

[Faust and Mephistopheles join 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,

And 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;

I love to have a free unshackled spirit. [The dance goes on.]

To-day I see that all my strength is spent in vain;

I’ve had a tour, at least, to compensate my evils,

And hope, before I come to Blocksberg back again,

To crush, with one good stroke, the poets and the devils.

Mephistopheles.

He will now go, and, bare of breeches,

Sit in a pool with solemn patience;

And, when his buttocks are well sucked by leeches,

Be cured of ghosts and ghostly inspirations.

[To Faust, who has just left the dance.]

Why do you let the lovely damsel go,

That in the dance with sweet song pleased you so?

Faust.

Alas! while she so passing sweet was singing,

I saw a red mouse from her mouth outspringing.

Mephistopheles.

Pooh! on the Brocken that’s a thing of course;

Let not such trifles mar your sweet discourse.

Go, join the crew, and dance away;

Enough, the red mouse was not gray.

Faust.

Then saw I—

Mephistopheles.

What?

Faust.

Mephisto, see’st thou there

A pale yet lovely girl, in lonely distance fare?

From place to place she moveth slow;

With shackled feet she seems to go;

I must confess, she has a cast

Of Margaret, when I saw her last.

Mephistopheles.

Let that alone! it brings thee certain harm;

It is bewitched, a bloodless, breathless form,

For men to look upon it is not good.

Its fixÈd gaze hath power to freeze the blood,

And petrify thee stark and stiff.

Of course I need not ask you if

You’ve heard of the Medusa’s head.

Faust.

In truth I see the eyes of one that’s dead,

On which no closing hand of love was laid.

That is my Margaret’s kindly breast,

That the sweet body I caressed.

Mephistopheles.

There lies the witchcraft o’t, thou fool!

A phantom takes thy wit to school:

She is the love of every lover’s brain.

Faust.

What ecstasy! and yet what pain!

I cannot leave it for my life.

How strangely this most lovely neck

A single streak of red doth deck,

No broader than the back o’ a knife!

Mephistopheles.

Quite right! I see it, just as well as you.

Sometimes her head beneath her elbow too

She wears; for Perseus cut it off, you know.

What! will you still a-dreaming go?

Come, let us mount the hillock—there

We shall have noble sport, believe me;

For, unless mine eyes deceive me,

They have got up a theatre.

What make you here?

A Servant.

You are just come in time.

’Tis a new piece, the last of all the seven,

For such the number that with us is given.

A dilettante ’twas that wrote the rhyme,

And dilettanti are the actors too.

Excuse me, sirs,—no disrespect to you,

If I seem curt: I am the dilettante

To draw the curtain; and our time is scanty.

Mephistopheles.

Just so; I only wish you were so clever

To know your home;

Then from the Blocksberg you would never

Have lust to roam!

Scene II.

Intermezzo.[n15]

Walpurgis-Night’s Dream;
or
Oberon and Titania’s Golden Hightide.

Director of the Theatre.

We players here may take our ease;

For all we need for scenery

Is mount and mead, and trees, and seas

Of Nature’s leafy greenery.

Herald.

The golden high-tide is it then,

When fifty years pass over;

But doubly golden is it when

All brawls and strifes they cover.

Oberon.

Ye spirits, who obey my law,

Are to this feast invited,

When Oberon and Titania

In love are reunited.

Puck.

Puck comes in first, and turns athwart,

His merry circles wheeling;

And hundreds more behind him dart,

Loud shouts of laughter pealing.

Ariel.

I fill the air with thrilling song

Of virtue quite enchanting;

Though ugly imps I lure along,

The fair are never wanting!

Oberon.

When man and wife begin to strive,

Just give them length of tether!

They will learn in peace to live,

When not too much together.

Titania.

When pouts the wife, and frets the man,

This cure is best in Nature,

Him to the Arctic circle ban,

And her to the Equator.

Orchestra. [Tutti. Fortissimo]

Snout of fly, and nose of gnat,

Lead on the band before us!

Frog and cricket, cat and bat,

Join merry in the chorus!

Solo.

A soap-bell for a doodle-sack,[3]

The merry waters troubling!

Hear the snecke-snicke-snack,

From its snub-nose bubbling!

Embryo-Spirit.

Legs of spider, paunch of toad,

And wings, if you would know it;

Nor fish, nor fowl, but on the road

Perhaps to be a poet!

A Pair of Dancers.

With many a nimble pace and spring,

Through honey-dew and vapour,

Trips o’er the ground the little thing,

But higher cannot caper.

Inquisitive Traveller.

Do I see a real thing,

Or is it all delusion?

Oberon, the fairy king,

Amid this wild confusion.

Orthodox.

Though neither tail nor claws are his,

’Tis true beyond all cavil,

As devils were the gods of Greece,

He too must be a devil.

Northern Artist.

’Tis but a sketch, I must admit;

But what I can’t unravel

To-night, I’ll know, with larger wit,

From my Italian travel.

Purist.

Alas! that I should see it too!

Here we a riot rare have!

Of all the crew, there are but two

That powder on their hair have.

Young Witch.

Powder and petticoat for grey

And wrinkled hags are fitting;

But I my lusty limbs display,

Upon a he-goat sitting.

Matron.

To speak with such a shameless pack

We have nor will nor leisure;

Soon may your flesh rot on your back,

And we look on with pleasure!

Leader of the Orchestra.

Snout of fly, and nose of gnat,

Sting not the naked beauty!

Frog and cricket, cat and bat,

Attend ye to your duty!

Weathercock. [to the one side]

A goodly company! as sure

As I stand on the steeple;

With brides and bridegrooms swarms the moor,

The hopefulest of people!

Weathercock. [to the other side]

And opes not suddenly the ground,

To swallow one and all up,

Then, with a jerk, I’ll veer me round,

And straight to hell I’ll gallop.

Xenien.

We insects keep them all in awe,

With sharpest scissors shear we!

Old Nick, our worthy Squire Papa,

Here to salute appear we.

Hennings.

See! how in merry circles they

Sit gossiping together;

The graceless crew have hearts, they say,

As good as any other.

Musagetes.

This witch and wizard crew to lead,

My willing fancy chooses;

More hopeful field is here indeed,

Than when I lead the Muses.

Ci-devant Genius of the Age.

The Brocken has a good broad back,

Like the High-Dutch Parnassus;

The Jury here no man can pack,

Or with proud silence pass us.

Inquisitive Traveller.

Say, who is he so stiff that goes,

That stately-stalking stranger?

He snuffs for Jesuits with sharp nose,

And cries—the Church in danger!

Crane.

In muddy waters do I fish

As well as where it clear is,

And only for such cause as this

The pious man too here is.

Worldling.

Yes! though the saints declare that sin

And Blocksberg are identical,

Yet here, amid this demon din,

They’ll set up their conventicle.

Dancer.

A sound of drums! a sound of men!

That wafted on the wind came!—

The weary bitterns in the fen

Are booming—never mind ’em!

Dancing-Master.

Lo! how they kick, and how they jump!

How well each figure shown is!

Springs the crooked, hops the plump!

Each thinks him an Adonis!

A Good Fellow.

A sorry lot! What muffled ire

Their swelling breasts inflames here!

The beasts were tamed by Orpheus’ lyre,

And them the bagpipe tames here!

Professor of Systematic Theology.

I let no one bamboozle me

With doubts and critic cavils;

The devil sure must something be,

Else whence so many devils?

Idealist.

Imagination travels free

Without or rein or rule here;

If I am all that now I see,

Myself must be a fool here.

Realist.

That on the Brocken ghosts appear

Now scarce admits disputing;

Amid this hurly burly here

I’ve fairly lost my footing.

Supernaturalist.

Into this swarming hellish brood

I come, without intrusion;

From evil spirits to the good,

It is a just conclusion.

Sceptic.

They chase the flame that flits about,

And deem them near their treasure;

Best rhymes with doubt this demon-rout,

And I look on with pleasure.

Leader of the Orchestra.

Snout of fly, and nose of gnat,

Ye stupid Dilettanti!

Frog and cricket, cat and bat,

Keep better time, why can’t ye?

Clever Spirits.

Sans-souci is hight the crew

On limber limbs that ply it;

When on our feet it will not do,

Then on our heads we try it.

Awkward Spirits.

With once or twice a lucky throw

We tramped the road together;

But now we flounder on, and show

Our toes outside the leather!

Ignes Fatui.

Though born but with the sultry ray

This morn, in the morass all,

Yet now, amid the gallants gay,

We shine here and surpass all.

Falung Star.

Last night I shot from starry sky

And fell upon my nose here;

Will no one come where flat I lie,

And plant me on my toes here?

Stout Spirits.

Make way, make way! and brush the dew

Right bravely from the lawn here;

Spirits we are, but Spirits too

Can show both pith and brawn here!

Puck.

Why tramp ye so majestical

As cub of river-horse is?

The plumpest spirit of you all

Stout Puck himself of course is.

Ariel.

If loving Nature’s bounteous care

Hath fitted you with pinions,

Then cleave with me the yielding air

To rosy bright dominions.

Orchestra.

The mist draws off, and overhead

All clear and bright the air is,

And with the rustling breeze are fled

The devils and the fairies!

end of the interlude.

Scene III.

A cloudy day. The Fields.

Faust and Mephistopheles.

Faust.

In misery! in despair! Wandering in hopeless wretchedness over the wide earth, and at last made prisoner! Shut up like a malefactor in a dungeon, victim of the most horrible woes—poor miserable girl! Must it then come to this? Thou treacherous and worthless Spirit! this hast thou concealed from me!—Stand thou there! stand!—Roll round thy fiendish eyes, infuriate in thy head! Stand and confront me with thy insupportable presence. A prisoner! in irredeemable misery! given over to evil Spirits, and to the condemning voice of the unfeeling world! and me, meanwhile, thou cradlest to sleep amid a host of the most vapid dissipations, concealing from my knowledge her aggravated woes!—while she—she is left in hopeless wretchedness to die!

Mephistopheles.

She’s not the first.

Faust.

Dog! abominable monster!—Change him, O thou infinite Spirit! change the reptile back again into his original form—the poodle that ran before me in the twilight, now cowering at the feet of the harmless wanderer, now springing on his shoulders!—Change him again into his favorite shape, that he may crouch on his belly in the sand before me, and I may tramp him underneath my feet, the reprobate!—Not the first! Misery, misery! by no human soul to be conceived! that more than one creature of God should ever have been plunged into the depth of this woe! that the first, in the writhing agony of her death, should not have atoned for the guilt of all the rest before the eyes of the All-merciful! It digs even into the marrow of my life, the misery of this one; and thou—thou grinnest in cold composure over the wretchedness of thousands!

Mephistopheles.

Here we are arrived once more at the limit of our wits, where the thread of human reason snaps in sunder. Wherefore seekest thou communion with us, unless thou would’st carry it through? Would’st fly, and yet art not proof against giddiness? Did we thrust ourselves on you, or you on us?

Faust.

Whet not thy rows of voracious teeth at me! I loathe it!—Great and glorious Spirit, who didst condescend to reveal thyself to me, who knowest my heart and my soul, wherefore didst thou yoke me to this vilest of complices, who feeds on mischief and banquets on destruction?

Mephistopheles.

Art done?

Faust.

Deliver her! or woe thee!—the direst of curses lie on thee forever!

Mephistopheles.

I cannot loose the bonds of the avenger, nor open his bars.—Deliver her! Who was it that plunged her into ruin? I or thou?

[Faust looks wildly round.

Mephistopheles. [continues]

Would’st grasp the thunder? ’Tis well that you, poor mortals, have it not to wield! To smash the innocent in pieces is the proper tyrant’s fashion of venting one’s spleen in a dilemma.

Faust.

Bring me to her! She shall be free!

Mephistopheles.

And the danger to which thou exposest thyself! Know that the guilt of blood from thy hand still lies upon the town. Above the spot where the slain fell, avenging Spirits hover and lie in wait for the returning murderer.

Faust.

That too from thee? Murder and death of a world on thee, thou monster! Bring me to her, I say, and deliver her!

Mephistopheles.

I’ll lead thee thither, and what I can do that I will do. Mark me! Have I all power in heaven and on earth? I will cloud the wits of the warder, and thou may’st seize the keys, and bring her out with the hand of a man. I wait for you with the magic horses to ensure your escape. This I can do.

Faust.

Up and away!

Scene IV.

Night. The open Field.

Faust. Mephistopheles.
(Galloping past on black horses.)

Faust.

What are they about there, bustling round the Ravenstone?[4]

Mephistopheles.

Can’t say what they are cooking and kitchening.

Faust.

They hover up, they hover down, bending and bowing.

Mephistopheles.

A corporation of Witches.

Faust.

They seem to be sprinkling and blessing something.

Mephistopheles.

On! on!

Scene V.

A Prison.

Faust, with a bundle of keys in his hand and a lamp, before an iron door.

Faust.

A strange cold shuddering dread comes o’er me, all

The up-heaped wretchedness of time.

Here dwells she now behind this damp cold wall,

And dear delusion was her only crime!

Fear’st thou to go to her?

Tremblest to meet her eye?

Quick! thy delay but brings her death more nigh.

[He seizes the lock. Singing heard from within.

My mother, the wanton,

That choked my breath![n16]

My father, the villain,

That dined on my death!

My sister dear,

In the cool green shade

My bones she laid;

Then was I a glad little bird in the May;

Fly away! fly away!

Faust. [opening the door]

She dreams not that her loved one is so near,

The clinking chains and rustling straw to hear.

Margaret. [hiding herself on the bed]

Woe, woe! they come.—To bitter death they call.

Faust. [softly]

Hush! hush! I come to free thee from their thrall!

Margaret. [throwing herself at his feet]

Art thou a man? feel for my hapless plight.

Faust.

Thy cries will wake the watchers of the night!

[He takes hold of the chains to unloose them.

Margaret. [on her knees]

Who gave thee, hangman, such a power

To drag me from my cell at midnight hour?

Have pity on me! Be not so harsh!—so rough!

Surely to-morrow morn is soon enough. [She stands up.]

So young, so very young, am I,

And must already die!

Once I was lovely too—’twas this that caused my fall.

Near was the friend, but far from me to-day;

Torn lies the wreath, the flowers are scattered all.

Oh tear me not so forcibly away!

Spare me! what have I done to injure thee?

Oh hear my prayer! for once compassion show!—

’Tis the first time I ever looked on thee.

Faust.

That I should live to see such depth of woe!

Margaret.

Thou hast me now completely in thy might.

Only first give me time to suckle my sweet child.

I hugged it the whole weary night;

They took’t from me in very spite;

And now they say I murdered the sweet child,

And never more shall I be glad again.

They sing songs on me, too!

A wicked thing to do!

’Tis the refrain

Of a grim old melody:

Who taught them that its words were meant for me?

Faust. [throwing himself down]

Here, at thy feet, behold who loves thee fall,

To strike thy shackles, and to break thy thrall!

Margaret. [falling beside him on her knees]

Yes! let us kneel and call upon the Saints!

Beneath these steps,

I hear it well!

Beneath the threshold,

Boileth Hell!

The evil One

His fury vents,

With fearful yell!

Faust. [loud]

Gretchen! Gretchen!

Margaret. [attentive]

That was the loved one’s voice!

[She springs up; the chains fall away.]

Where is he? where? I heard him call on me,

Now I am free! and none shall hinder me!

To his neck will I fly!

On his bosom lie!

He called me his Gretchen! he stood at the door.

Through the wild howling and hissing of Hell,

Through the loud-laughing scorn and the fiendish uproar,

Came the sweet voice of love that I know so well.

Faust.

’Tis I!

Margaret.

’Tis thou! O say it yet again! [Clasping him.]

’Tis he! ’tis he! Where now is all my pain?

Where all my prison’s woe? my fetters where?

’Tis he! he comes to lift me from this lair

Of wretchedness! I’m free, I’m free!

Already the well-known street I see,

Where the first time I spake to thee,

And the pleasant garden, where

Martha and I did wait for thee.

Faust. [striving forward]

Come, come!

Margaret.

O stay, stay!

Thou know’st how pleased I stay where thou dost stay.

[Caressing him.

Faust.

Away, away!

Unless we haste,

Dearly we’ll pay for these few moments’ waste.

Margaret.

How! giv’st thou me no kiss?

My friend, so very short a space away,

And hast forgot to kiss?

Why feel I now so straitened when I hold

Thee in my arms? It was not so of old,

When from thy words and looks, a heaven of bliss

Came down; and thou didst kiss

As thou would’st smother me. Come, kiss me! kiss!

Else kiss I thee! [She embraces him.]

O woe! thy lips are cold,

Are dumb;

Where is the love thy swelling bosom bore

Whilome for me? why are thy lips so cold?

[She turns away from him.

Faust.

Come with me, sweet love, come!

I’ll hug thee ten times closer than before,

Only come with me now! Come, I implore!

Margaret. [turning to him]

Art thou then he? Art thou then truly he?

Faust.

’Tis I, in truth. Come, love, and follow me.

Margaret.

And these vile chains thou breakest,

And me again unto thy bosom takest?

How canst thou dare to turn fond eyes on me?

Know’st thou then, Henry, whom thou com’st to free?

Faust.

Come, come! the night sinks fast; come, follow me!

Margaret.

My mother slept a sleep profound!

I drugged her to’t;

My little babe I drowned!

Was it not heaven’s boon to me and thee?

Thee, too!—’tis thou! I scarce may deem

My sense speaks true. Give me thy hand!

It is no dream!

Thy dear, dear hand!

Alas! but it is wet!

Wipe it; for it is wet

With blood! O God! what hast thou done?

Put up thy sword;

I pray thee put it up.

Faust.

Let gone be gone!

Thou stabbest me with daggers, every word.

Margaret.

No! thou shalt survive our sorrow!

I will describe the graves to thee,

Where thou shalt bury them and me

To-morrow.

The best place thou shalt give my mother;

Close beside her lay my brother;

Me a little to the side,

But at distance not too wide!

And my child at my right breast.—

These, and none else with us shall rest!

Me on thy loving side to press,

That was a heaven of blessedness!

But now, I cannot do it more;

I feel as I must force my love to thee,

And thou didst coldly fling me back from thee;

And yet ’tis thou!—as good, as loving as before.

Faust.

’Tis I, even I, come, sweet love, come!

Margaret.

Out there?

Faust.

Into the open air.

Margaret.

If the grave be there,

And death there waits, then come!

Hence to my eternal home,

Not a step more.—

Thou leav’st me now?—would I might go with thee?

Faust.

Thou canst, if thou but wilt. I have unbarred the door.

Margaret.

I may not go; no hope for me remains;

They watch me close—my home is with my chains.

It is so sad to beg from door to door;

A guilty thing from human loves outcast,

A homeless earth to wander o’er;

And they are sure to find me out at last.

Faust.

I will protect thee.

Margaret.

Quick! Quick!

Save thy poor child!

Away, away!

Keep the path

Up the stream,

Across the bridge,

To the left hand,

Where the plank stands,

In the pond,

Seize it, quick!

It rises up,

It kicks! it lives!

O save it, save it!

Faust.

Only bethink thee!

One step more, and thou art free.

Margaret.

Would we were past that mountain gray!

There sits my mother on a stone—

I feel a hand that pulls me back

As cold as clay!

There sits my mother on a stone;

Her head sways heavily;

She winks not, she nods not, her head she may not raise.

She slept so long, she never more may wake.

She slept that we might our enjoyment take.

O these were happy days!

Faust.

Here words and prayers will only make things worse;

Come! come; or I must hale thee hence by force.

Margaret.

Let me alone! lay no rough hands on me!

Nor with such murderous clutches seize me!

Thou know’st I have done everything to please thee.

Faust.

The day dawns. Come, my Gretchen, follow me!

Margaret.

Day! yes, it is day! the Judgment-day breaks in!

My marriage-day it should have been!

Let no one know thou wert before with Margaret.

Woe to my wreath!

’Tis done! oh, pain!

We will meet again;

But not at the dance.

The thronging crowds advance

With bated breath;

No word is spoken;

The squares, the streets,

Cannot contain them all.

The bell doth call,

The staff is broken,

They bind me with cords, they drag me away,

And on the bloody block me lay;

And every trembling eye doth quake

At the blade that is brandished o’er my neck.

Mute lies the world as the grave!

Faust.

O had I ne’er been born!

Mephistopheles. [appearing from without]

Up! or no help can save!

Profitless whining, whimpering, and prating!

Meanwhile my eager steeds are waiting,

Snuffing the scent of the morning air.

Margaret.

What’s that from the floor uprising there?

’Tis he! ’Tis he! O send his hateful face

Away! What seeks he in this holy place?

He comes for me!

Faust.

No! thou shalt live.

Margaret.

Judgment of God! to thee my soul I give.

Mephistopheles. [to Faust]

Come, come! else will I leave you to your fate!

Margaret.

Thine am I, Father! O shut not the gate

Of mercy on me!

Ye angels! ye most holy Spirits! now

Encamp around me! and protect me now!

Henry, I tremble when I think on thee.

Mephistopheles.

She is judged!

Voice. [from above]

Is saved!

Mephistopheles. [to Faust]

Hither to me!

Voice. [from within, dying away]

Henry! Henry!

[The End]