 | Faustus : The Second Part |  |
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ACT II.
High arched narrow Gothic Chamber, formerly Faustus's—unaltered.Mephistopheles, Chorus of Crickets, Famulus, Baccalaureus.
[Mephistopheles steps out from behind a curtain; while he raises it, and looks back, Faustus is seen stretched out on an old-fashioned bed.
Mephistopheles.
Lie down there, luckless! lie down, wretched thrall
Of this inexplicable, inextricable
Love-tangle! His is the worst case of all.
Whom Helen paralyses, little chance
Has of recovering ever from the trance.
[Looks round him.
As I look up—down—round me,—here,
Nowhere does any change appear.
Perhaps some slight shade in the colour
Of the stained glass,—a trifle duller.
The spiders' webs are spread more wide;
The paper's yellower, the ink's dried.
All things in their old position—
All things in their old condition.
The very pen with which he signed away
Himself to the devil, look at it there still!
Aye, and the drop of blood I coaxed from him,
A dry stain crusts the barrel of the quill.
What a rare object of virtu to seek
For your collector!—happiest of men,
Could he but get possession of the pen!
Envied proprietor of such unique!
And the old sheepskin on its own old hook,
Brings back that comic lecture, which so took
With the poor boy, who ever since, no doubt,
All its deep meaning still keeps puzzling out.
Of this inexplicable, inextricable
Love-tangle! His is the worst case of all.
Whom Helen paralyses, little chance
Has of recovering ever from the trance.
[Looks round him.
As I look up—down—round me,—here,
Nowhere does any change appear.
Perhaps some slight shade in the colour
Of the stained glass,—a trifle duller.
The spiders' webs are spread more wide;
The paper's yellower, the ink's dried.
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All things in their old condition.
The very pen with which he signed away
Himself to the devil, look at it there still!
Aye, and the drop of blood I coaxed from him,
A dry stain crusts the barrel of the quill.
What a rare object of virtu to seek
For your collector!—happiest of men,
Could he but get possession of the pen!
Envied proprietor of such unique!
And the old sheepskin on its own old hook,
Brings back that comic lecture, which so took
With the poor boy, who ever since, no doubt,
All its deep meaning still keeps puzzling out.
My old warm Furry Friend, I like thy look!
I long again to wrap me round in thee,
And put on the Professor, in full blow
Of lecture-room infallibility!
How is it, that these sorry book-men know
So well to get the feeling up? Ah me!
In the devil it has died out, ages ago.
I long again to wrap me round in thee,
And put on the Professor, in full blow
Of lecture-room infallibility!
How is it, that these sorry book-men know
So well to get the feeling up? Ah me!
In the devil it has died out, ages ago.
[He takes down and shakes the old fur gown: crickets, chaffers, moths, and other insects fly out.
Chorus of Insects.
Hail to thee! hail to thee!
Patron and father;
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Swarm we and gather
To welcome thy coming,
Hovering and humming.
In the faded and rotten,
Of chambers neglected,
In darkness forgotten,
One by one, unperceived,
Didst thou silently plant us;
Now thousands on thousands,
In sunlight and glee,
We sport and we flaunt us.
Dust is rife
With dancing life,
Buzzing and welcoming,
Welcoming thee.
The scoundrel still sculks him
The bosom within,
More close than the moth
In the furry old skin.
Many are we—many are we,
Every one of us welcomes thee.
Mephistopheles.
With what surprised and rapturous delight
This young creation glads its maker's sight;
If a man do but sow, he may be sure
Time in due season will the crop mature.
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And here and there an odd one flutters out:
Up and around, in corners, holes, and shelves,
My darlings, find out snug berths for yourselves.
Yonder, where broken boxes block the ground,
And here in the old parchments time-embrowned;
In dusty potsherds, faded curtain shreds,
And in the eye-holes there of dead men's heads—
Come, moth and maggot, people once again
The rubbish that in life was called the brain!
[Slips into the gown.
Up on my shoulders, Furry Friend! and then
I for the hour am Principal again.
But I must summon them o'er whom I claim
Dominion, or there's nothing in the name.
[He pulls the bell, which gives a harsh piercing sound, at which the halls shake, and the doors spring open.
Famulus
(tottering up the long dark passage).
What a sounding! what a shaking!
Stairs are trembling, walls are quaking;
Through the window's colour-flashes
Lightnings tremble!—tempest crashes!
Is the floor asunder parting,
Roof in ruins downward falling,
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Through some wonder-work appalling?
And look yonder, where a giant
Stands in Faust's old fur, defiant;
And, with beck and glance and winking,
Me he silently is calling:
And I faint! my knees are sinking.
Shall I stand my ground? or fly him?
Stay! what?—stay! be murdered by him?
Mephistopheles.
Come hither, friend; your name is Nicodemus.
Famulus
(crossing himself).
High honoured master! 'tis my name—Oremus.
Mephistopheles.
Sink the Oremus!
Famulus.
I'm so glad to see,
Kind master, that you've not forgotten me.
Mephistopheles.
I know you well—in years, but still in love
With study—books you're always thinking of,
Most learned! most mossy! even a deep-learned man
Still studies on because 'tis all he can:
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A house of cards which none can finish quite.
Your master, he is one, it may be said,
Who always hits the nail upon the head—
The well-known Doctor Wagner—anyhow
The great man of the world of letters now:
His genius 'tis, that all inspires, unites,
While Science mounts with him to prouder heights.
There gathers round his chair an eager ring
Of hearers—men who would learn everything.
He, like Saint Peter, holds the keys—can show
The secrets of above and of below;
He shines in all: no reputation is
In any way to be compared to his—
None anywhere now to be placed with him.
Even Faustus' fame's beginning to grow dim—
He has made the great discoveries of our days.
Famulus.
Pardon, most noble sir; permit me to
Speak, sir; permit me just to say to you
That he is one who would shrink from such praise.
His is a modest mind—he does not aim
At rivalling the mighty master's fame.
Since the great master's disappearance, he
Seems ever wrapt in strange perplexity.
For his return he looks, for health and hope
From it—and thus his spirits he keeps up.
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Remains—no change made since he went away:
There, 'tis kept waiting for its own old master.
Myself—I scarcely venture to go in.
What say the stars? does the hour bode disaster?
The walls, as though with terror struck, still shake;
The doors flew open, every bolt sprang back;
Else you had not come in here—you, even you.
Mephistopheles.
Where is he? bring me to him—bring him here.
Famulus.
Ah, sir, the prohibition's too severe—
'Tis scarce a thing that I could venture on.
Intent on the great work, he has lived alone
For months in the stillest stillness. Only think,
Think of this neatest, nattiest of all
Our bookmen, blacked with soot from ear to nose;
And his eyes blearing, and their raw red blink,
As with throat parching at the fire he blows;
For the true moment every moment longs—
His music still the clatter of the tongs!
Mephistopheles.
To me he'll scarce deny the entrée. I'm
The lucky man, and this the lucky time.
[Exit Famulus.
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I scarce have sate down in my place,
When, hark! a stirring from behind,
And I behold a well-known face:
My old friend, sure enough, again I find.
But now he comes in the bold bearing
Of our newest schools; spares nothing, nobody—
Dashing 'gainst all things, no bounds to his daring.
Baccalaureus
(storming along the passage).
Gateway free, doors loose, locks broken,
Are a promise and a token
That the living, as of old here,
Shall not now like dead men moulder;
Pining, festering, putrefying,
Where to live itself is dying.
Are a promise and a token
That the living, as of old here,
Shall not now like dead men moulder;
Pining, festering, putrefying,
Where to live itself is dying.
Walls are bending in and crumbling,
Tumble-down partitions tumbling;
Roof and joist will fall asunder,
Crushing every body under.
Than myself of spirit few are
More courageous, with heart truer;
Yet the prospect is so cheerless
As to force back the most fearless.
One step farther into danger
I'll not take for friend or stranger.
Very odd to-day the changes
Seem, as back my memory ranges,
When I was ‘the fox’ well hunted,
And with jibe and jeer affronted;
When the gray-beard old deceivers
Classed me with their true believers—
One who all their figments hollow
As the bread of life would swallow.
Tumble-down partitions tumbling;
Roof and joist will fall asunder,
Crushing every body under.
Than myself of spirit few are
More courageous, with heart truer;
Yet the prospect is so cheerless
As to force back the most fearless.
One step farther into danger
I'll not take for friend or stranger.
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Seem, as back my memory ranges,
When I was ‘the fox’ well hunted,
And with jibe and jeer affronted;
When the gray-beard old deceivers
Classed me with their true believers—
One who all their figments hollow
As the bread of life would swallow.
Lying rascals, dry and crusty,
Primed from their old parchments musty
What they taught, and disbelieved it,
But as handed down received it;
What they taught with no misgiving
Robbed themselves and me of living.
Primed from their old parchments musty
What they taught, and disbelieved it,
But as handed down received it;
What they taught with no misgiving
Robbed themselves and me of living.
But see sitting in brown study
One of these same bright and muddy,
In the clear obscure, the glimmer
Of the gray light growing dimmer;
There he sits as first I found him,
With the rough brown sheepskin round him.
Then he seemed to me right clever,
Great man of the place; however,
That was all in the gone-bye time
—The world's nonage: now 'tis my time.
I know him now; he cannot catch me now—
That day is over: at him, anyhow.
If, old sir, your bald head in Lethe's pool
Hath not been soaked, you may with those slant eyes
The scholar of an old day recognise.
But now remember I am out of school,
And rid of academic rods and rule.
You, sir, are just the same as long ago;
I am not what I was, I'd have you know.
One of these same bright and muddy,
In the clear obscure, the glimmer
Of the gray light growing dimmer;
There he sits as first I found him,
With the rough brown sheepskin round him.
Then he seemed to me right clever,
Great man of the place; however,
That was all in the gone-bye time
—The world's nonage: now 'tis my time.
I know him now; he cannot catch me now—
That day is over: at him, anyhow.
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Hath not been soaked, you may with those slant eyes
The scholar of an old day recognise.
But now remember I am out of school,
And rid of academic rods and rule.
You, sir, are just the same as long ago;
I am not what I was, I'd have you know.
Mephistopheles.
I am so glad my bell hath hither brought you—
Even when a boy no common boy I thought you:
The grub and chrysalis denote
The future butterfly's gay coat.
I well remember your delighted air,
Your peaked lace collar and your flowing hair:
Proud, child, you were of that same curly pate.
You never wore the queue and crown—
It had not to your day come down.
And now to find you in a Sweden tête,
Determined, resolute, from head to foot.
Oh! come not home with that imperious frown,
The bare-faced terrors of the Absolute.
Baccalaureus.
Old gentleman, we are in the old place;
But change of time has come and changed the case.
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This motley two-edged dialect.
You long ago might play at make-believe:
Small art need any man employ,
To fool an unsuspecting boy,
Whom no one now will venture to deceive.
Mephistopheles.
If, speaking to the young, pure truth one speaks,
It little suits the callow yellow beaks;
Years come and, what they heard from us, when brought
Back by their own experience dearly bought,
They deem it all the fruit of their own skull—
Speak of their master as supremely dull.
Baccalaureus.
Or—as a knave, for who that deals with youth
Speaks, face to face, direct the honest truth;
Your teacher still will strengthen or dilute,
Palates of pious children as may suit.
Mephistopheles.
Learning and Teaching—there's a time for each;
Your time for learning's over: you can teach.
Moons many since we met—some suns have rolled;
You must have gained Experience manifold.
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Experience! foam and bubble, and its name
Not to be mentioned with the Spirit's claim.
Confess it! nothing was till this day done
Worth doing in Science—Science there was none.
Mephistopheles.
I have thought so long—I had always a thick skull;
I now confess to ‘silly—shallow—dull.’
Baccalaureus.
That so delights me!—some hope of you yet!
The first old man with brains I have ever met.
Mephistopheles.
I dug for gold, I found but cinders horrid;
I cried them up for treasures rich and rare.
Baccalaureus.
Confess then that your bare-faced bald old forehead
Is nothing better than the dead skulls there.
Mephistopheles
(calmly).
Friend! you are most discourteously replying.
Baccalaureus.
Courtesy! in plain German, that means lying.
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(moving with his wheel chair towards the proscenium, addressing the audience).
Light—air—no quarter up there! You'll be civil—
You're sure to show your kindness to the devil.
Baccalaureus.
It is the very height of impudence,
That what is dead and gone should make pretence
Of being in existence. Man's life lives
But in the Blood—and the blood, where, in truth,
Stirs it so vigorously as in youth?
The young blood lives, aye! and in eager strife
Shapes to itself a new life out of life.
There all is progress! something still is done—
The feeble falls, the active presses on.
We have won half the world—yes! youthful man
Hath won it; meanwhile what have you been doing?
Slept, nodded, dreamed, weighed, thought, plan after plan
Suggesting still, and languidly pursuing?
Old age is a cold fever's feeble flame,
Life's peevish winter of obstruction chilling,
Man is at Thirty dead, or all the same—
'Twere better kill you while you are worth killing.
Mephistopheles.
To this the devil himself can nothing add.
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Devil? Devil there can be none without my willing.
Mephistopheles
(aside).
The devil's close by to trip you up, my lad.
Baccalaureus
(exultingly).
This is the noble mission of the young—
Earth into being at my bidding sprung;
The sun in pomp I led up from the sea,
The moon in all her changes followed me.
For me in beauty walked the glorious day,
The green earth blossomed to adorn my way.
'Twas at my beck upon that primal night,
The proud stars shed through heaven their spreading light.
Rescued is Man, and by what hand but mine,
From galling bondage of the Philistine?
I—for the Spirit speaks within me—freed
Follow the inward light where it may lead,
Fearless and fast, with rapture-beaming mind,
The Clear before me, and the Dark behind.
Mephistopheles.
Original! move onward in your pride.
Oh! how the spirit would sink mortified,
Could you but know that long ago
All thoughts, whatever, dull or clever,
That cross the twilight of your brain,
Have been o'er and o'er again
Occupying other men.
Oh! how the spirit would sink mortified,
Could you but know that long ago
All thoughts, whatever, dull or clever,
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Have been o'er and o'er again
Occupying other men.
Yet, have no fears for him;—in a few years
The absurd works off, the ferment clears,
The folly will subside, perhaps refine;
The must at last is wine, and no bad wine.
[To the younger part of the audience who do not applaud.
Too bad to see the auditors so cold!
And yet I must forgive the young beholder
His lack of sympathy. The devil is old.
To understand him better, boys, grow older!
The absurd works off, the ferment clears,
The folly will subside, perhaps refine;
The must at last is wine, and no bad wine.
[To the younger part of the audience who do not applaud.
Too bad to see the auditors so cold!
And yet I must forgive the young beholder
His lack of sympathy. The devil is old.
To understand him better, boys, grow older!
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Wagner
(at the hearth).
The bell! how fearfully it chimed!
With what a shudder, thrilling through
These old walls, smoke-begrimed!
With what a shudder, thrilling through
These old walls, smoke-begrimed!
The agony of hopes and fears
That tortured me is at an end.
The cloudy darkness clears.
From deep within the phial glows
A living ring of fire, that throws
Far its red light, and through the night,
As from the carbuncle, in bright
Lightning-like lustre flows.
That tortured me is at an end.
The cloudy darkness clears.
From deep within the phial glows
A living ring of fire, that throws
Far its red light, and through the night,
As from the carbuncle, in bright
Lightning-like lustre flows.
And now!—and now!—at last 'tis come! a pure clear pearly white!
Oh! that I may not lose it this time—Hark!
Again! A something rattling at the door.
Again! A something rattling at the door.
Mephistopheles
(entering).
Welcome! I bring such luck as in my power.
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(anxiously).
Welcome! To come just at the planet hour!
(In a low voice.)
Hush! not a breath, while you look on intent.
A mighty work of wonderful event
Is at the moment of accomplishment—
A man is being made!
Mephistopheles
(in a whisper).
A man! and will it
Be soon done? are your lovers in the skillet?
Wagner.
Heaven help you! the romance of action, passion,
Father and mother, is quite out of fashion.
I've shown up pretty well that idle pother—
The thought of child by no means implies mother:
The tender point from which life sprang and started
Is gone—clean gone—the glory all departed.
The eager impulse from within that pressed,
Received and gave, and, prompt to manifest
Itself, went on advancing by degrees,
The nearest first, the foreign next to seize,
Is from its dignity deposed, dethroned,
From this day forward, disallowed, disowned
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Answer, but man, high-gifted man at least,
Will have a higher, purer form of birth.
[Turns to the hearth.
Look yonder! see the flashes from the hearth!
Hope for the world dawns there, that, having laid
The stuff together of which man is made,
The hundred-fold ingredients mixing, blending,
(For upon mixture is the whole depending,)
If then in a retort we slowly mull it,
Next to a philosophic temper dull it,
Distil and re-distil, at leisure thin it,
All will come right, in silence, to a minute.
[Turning again to the hearth.
'Tis forming,—every second brings it nearer—
And my conviction becomes stronger, clearer.
What Nature veils in mystery, I expect
Through the plain understanding to effect;
What was organisation will at last
Be with the art of making crystals classed.
Mephistopheles.
Who has lived long will never be surprised—
Nothing in the world is new. I've long ago
Met, in my years of going to and fro
And up and down in earth, men crystallised.
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(gazing intently on the phial).
It forms! glows! gathers! in a moment more
The work's accomplished never done before!
Broach an unfolded project, men suspect it,
Scoff at it, as a madman's dream reject it;
We, in our turn, may laugh when the event
Is placed beyond the reach of accident.
Think of the thinker able to produce
A brain to think with fit for instant use!
(Gazing on the phial with complacency.)
The glass rings low, the charming power that lives
Within it makes the music that it gives.
It dims! it brightens! it will shape itself.
And see!—a graceful dazzling little elf.
He lives! he moves! spruce mannikin of fire,
What more can we? what more can earth desire?
Mystery is no longer mystery.
Listen! a sound! a voice! and soon will be
Intelligible words addressed to me.
Homunculus
(in the phial, to Wagner).
Ha! father dear! how goes it? 'twas no jest;
Clasp me affectionately to your breast.
Not quite so tight. So fervent an embrace
Incurs the risk of breaking the glass case.
Essentially distinct, the Natural
Finds in the Universe no resting-place,
The Artificial needs restricted space.
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Ha! rascal! my old cousin, are you here?
Good fellow at such moment to appear.
What luck has brought you? nothing could in fact
Be timelier. While I am, I still must act;
I would address myself to work at once,
And you're the very fellow for the nonce.
Wagner.
A word, just one short word: till now I blushed
At my own ignorance, when thousands rushed
Up to my chair, and young and old perplexed
My brain with problems intricate and vexed;
As, for example, none can comprehend
How soul and body in such union blend,
Inseparably bound together they,
Yet battling with each other every day.
So then—
Mephistopheles.
A moment! pray, resolve the doubt,
How happens it that man and wife fall out?
On this, my friend, we'll get no satisfaction.
Here's work to do we had better set about:
The little fellow's attribute is action.
Homunculus.
What's to be done?
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(pointing to a side-door).
Thy talents here employ.
Wagner
(still looking into the phial).
Thou art indeed a very lovely boy!
[The side-door opens. Faustus seen stretched on a couch. The phial slips from Wagner's hands, hovers over Faustus, and shines on him.
Homunculus.
Expressive!—
Lovely scenery all around!
A clear lake in the dusk grove's deep recess;
Nymphs playfully that to the water press;
And—what a pretty picture!—they undress.
Well! that's not bad; and near the lake's green bound,
Distinct from all, that countenance divine!
—To look on her is to adore and love.
Daughter seems she of old heroic line,
Or of the children of the Gods above.
Her foot she dips into the light serene
Of the waves' trembling crystal, cools the flame
Of life that glows through all that noble frame.
But what a rush and rustle of quick wings,
With splash and crash through the smooth mirror rings!
The maidens fly in terror; but the Queen
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The prince of swans wind gently to her knee,
Nestling up to her—how familiarly!
Bold suitor, not to be denied is he!
—But suddenly a rising vapour draws
A curtain close of thick-inwoven gauze,
Hiding the loveliest scene.
Mephistopheles.
Why, what a world in all you do relate!
For such a little fellow, you're a great
Romancer—visionary, rather. I
See nothing.
Homunculus.
That I do believe, for why,
You're a born northern, born in a bleak clime;
And in the dreariest, blackest hour of time,
On the shapeless gloom of the dark ages flung;
And you in youth have been brought up among
Ritters and priests: how could your eye be free?
'Tis only in the dark that you can see.
(Looking around.)
Blocks of brown stone! vaults mouldering, dripping wall,
Zigzags, fantastic arches, low and small!
Into another scrape we shall have got;
Should he wake here, he dies upon the spot.
Wood-lake, and swans, and solitary stream,
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And Hope and Love, are his entrancing dream.
How could he to this den be reconciled?
Even I, that am as cheerful as a child,
And suit myself to all things, scarce can bear
This dungeon. Off with him!
Mephistopheles.
Aye off—but where?
Homunculus.
Command the warrior to the field of fight,
Lead to the dance the maiden, and all's right;
And luckily—it just occurs to me—
To-night's the Classical Walpurgis Night:
Cannot imagine a more apt event—
It brings him to his very element.
Mephistopheles.
I've never heard of it. What can it be?
Homunculus.
How could it ever have come to your ears!
Romantic spectres are your all in all!
The genuine are also Classical.
Mephistopheles.
But to what point of the compass sail we now
For this land of my old-world kinsmen? I somehow
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'Tis an acquaintance I've no wish to make.
Homunculus.
North-western, Satan, lies thy pleasure ground;
'Tis to the south-east we to-night are bound.
Through a wide valley flows Peneios free,
In quiet creeks embowered with bush and tree;
The valley to the mountain glens lies spread
With old and new Pharsalus overhead.
Mephistopheles.
Pharsalus! do not speak of it,—the strife
Of Slave and Despot sickens me of life—
There is no end of it. A battle won
Does nothing; 'tis but a campaign begun;
While Asmodæus—this none calls to mind—
Still goads them on, and mocks them from behind.
They fight, they say, where Freedom's banner waves:
Seen truly, 'tis a war of slaves with slaves.
Homunculus.
Leave them to wrangle on. Man's nature and
Condition everlasting war demand;
Each has to guard himself as best he can
From boyhood up, and so grows into man.
But that's for them, not us. The matter now
Before us is to cure this man—but how?
If you have any remedy, apply it;
If you have none, then there's mine, let me try it.
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Oh! I know many a charm and Brocken spell
Should in a common case soon have him well;
But here, where Heathen bolts resist, repel,
I can do nothing. These Greeks never were
Worth any thing; yet do they dazzle you
With the free play of the senses, that so wins
The human breast, and lures to cheerful sins.
Ours are of soberer cast and graver hue;
And now—
Homunculus.
'Twas not your habit to be coy;
You'll find Thessalian witches there, my boy!
Mephistopheles.
Thessalian witches! They are persons whom
I have been asking after. I wish to
Make their acquaintance—just an interview;
Night after night with them would never do.
It were, I fancy, dreary merriment
But for a visit—but for an experiment.
Homunculus.
The mantle—trot him out—'tis good strong stuff,
And carries double—'twill do well enough;
Come wrap the ritter in it, neck and feet.
Off with us! Here, leap up into your seat—
Here, catch the skirt; I'll light you on your way.
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And I—
Homunculus.
And You—oh! you at home may stay,
The main pursuit of life, as now, pursuing.
Spread the old parchments out as you are doing;
The scattered elements of life collect,
Combine them as the recipes direct;
In nothing from the letter deviate thou:
Think of the ‘what,’ but still more of the ‘how;’
While o'er a section of the world I fly,
To hit, perhaps, the dot upon the ‘i.’
The triumph's won, the mighty work attained,
The well-earned meed of thousand efforts gained;
Gold, honour, reputation, long life, health,
—Science, perhaps, and virtue—surely wealth.
Farewell!
Wagner.
Farewell! The cold word chills my heart:
Never to meet again, I feel, we part.
Mephistopheles.
Away we go! swift to Peneios tend!
There's something in my bright young cousin's aid.
(To the Spectators confidentially.)
In the end, we all depend
On the creatures we have made!
137
CLASSICAL WALPURGIS NIGHT.
Pharsalian Fields—Darkness.Erichtho.
To this night's shuddering festival, as oftentimes ere now,
Once more I come, once more, Erichtho, I the gloomy,
Not quite the hideous hag o'erslandering poets picture—
Their praise and blame is ever in the Infinite.
Once more I come, once more, Erichtho, I the gloomy,
Not quite the hideous hag o'erslandering poets picture—
Their praise and blame is ever in the Infinite.
Already o'er the vale, in shadowy undulation,
Roll glimmering before mine eye what seem to be gray tents,
Spread wavelike far and wide: phantomy reappearance
Of that all-anxious night—dread night of deepest sorrow.
Roll glimmering before mine eye what seem to be gray tents,
Spread wavelike far and wide: phantomy reappearance
Of that all-anxious night—dread night of deepest sorrow.
How oft doth it repeat itself!—how oft to be repeated!
Evermore and for ever! None of his own free will
Yields empire to another; none to him
Who by strength gained it, who by strength would govern.
Who cannot rule his inner self would fain his neighbour's will
Strain to the stubborn measure of his own proud thoughts.
Evermore and for ever! None of his own free will
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Who by strength gained it, who by strength would govern.
Who cannot rule his inner self would fain his neighbour's will
Strain to the stubborn measure of his own proud thoughts.
In these fields, by armed hosts, in conflict and in conquest,
Memorably was it exemplified.
Force 'gainst superior force for mortal strife is marshalled;
Freedom's fair wreath, rich with its thousand flowers,
Breaks. The still laurel bends to crown the ruler's brow.
Here Magnus saw in dreams the unforgotten day
Of earlier greatness spreading into glorious blossom;
Cæsar lay sleepless there, and watched the wavering balance—
And they will measure strengths. The world knows who prevailed.
Memorably was it exemplified.
Force 'gainst superior force for mortal strife is marshalled;
Freedom's fair wreath, rich with its thousand flowers,
Breaks. The still laurel bends to crown the ruler's brow.
Here Magnus saw in dreams the unforgotten day
Of earlier greatness spreading into glorious blossom;
Cæsar lay sleepless there, and watched the wavering balance—
And they will measure strengths. The world knows who prevailed.
Watchfires burn bright, diffusing their red beams around—
The soil breathes up, in crimson stain, blood, outpoured here of old:
And by its strange glare, streaming far thro' the night's magic brightness,
Allured, the legion gathers of Hellenic story.
Round every fire flit with uncertain glimmer,
Or rest at ease, some of the fabulous shapings
Of the days of old. The moon, not yet at full,
But bright, uprising now spreads over all
A softening lustre mild. The phantom tents
Are gone. Illusion fades off. Fires burn blue.
The soil breathes up, in crimson stain, blood, outpoured here of old:
139
Allured, the legion gathers of Hellenic story.
Round every fire flit with uncertain glimmer,
Or rest at ease, some of the fabulous shapings
Of the days of old. The moon, not yet at full,
But bright, uprising now spreads over all
A softening lustre mild. The phantom tents
Are gone. Illusion fades off. Fires burn blue.
But over me what a strange sudden Meteor!
It guides, and with its light illumes, a ball
Corporeal. I scent life! 'twould ill beseem
Me, to life noxious, to be near the living.
'Twould bring me ill repute, and profit me
Nothing. Already it sinks down. 'Twill land
Here. Ere it touch the ground I move away.
It guides, and with its light illumes, a ball
Corporeal. I scent life! 'twould ill beseem
Me, to life noxious, to be near the living.
'Twould bring me ill repute, and profit me
Nothing. Already it sinks down. 'Twill land
Here. Ere it touch the ground I move away.
[Exit.
Moonlight. Homunculus, Mephistopheles, Griffins, Colossal Ants, Arimaspians, Sphinxes, Sirens, &c.
The Aeronauts seen above, before they have descended.
Homunculus.
Sweep o'er flames and sights of horror
Once again in circling flight!
Spectral shapes through gorge and valley
Flit in the phantasmal light.
140
Spectres, hideous as the phantoms
That I gazed on from the gloom
Of that drear old Northern window!
Here I feel almost at home.
Homunculus.
See, with rapid steps before us,
A tall female figure stride!
Mephistopheles.
As through air she saw us gliding,
She retreated terrified.
Homunculus.
Let her stride on! think not of her!
Set the ritter on the ground;
Here in the charmed land of Fable,
Will the life he seeks be found.
[They descend.
Faustus
(touching the ground).
Where is She?
Homunculus.
That I cannot say;
But here would seem the very place t'inquire.
No time to lose! from fire to fire,
Pursue the chase till break of day.
He, who has dared the adventure of the Mothers,
Has little reason to fear any others.
141
I've my own objects here, and our best play.
It strikes me, for the good of us all three,
Is that each take his own course, and that we
Among the fires, as fancy guides us, stray.
'Tis so much pleasanter when one pursues
His own adventures just as he may choose.
And, small chap, when 'tis time to reunite,
Let chime your glass, let flare and flash your light.
Homunculus
(the glass rings and shines out wonderfully).
Thus shall it ring—thus flash forth ray on ray.
Now to the scene of wonders haste away!
[They separate.
Faustus
(alone).
Where is She? why ask where?
If it be not the sod, on which her feet
Trod, and the wave that beat
To welcome her, it is the air
That spoke her language. Here! and I am here—
In her own Greece, miraculously here!
I felt at once the earth on which I stood—
In sleep there came a Spirit that through my blood
142
Now, like Antæus, as I touch the ground,
I find the strength of inspiration given,
Roam this wild maze of fires with happy cheer
Where all things strangest are together found.
[Withdraws.
Mephistopheles
(prying about).
At every step, as 'mong these fires I roam,
I find myself still less and less at home.
What an odd crowd of creatures brought together!—
Bird's claws, dog's paws, men's faces, fleece, fur, feather.
Their decency is little sure to brag on—
Most of them naked! here and there a rag on!
The Sphinxes unabashed, the Griffins shameless,
Making no secret of what should be nameless.
We all are rakes at heart—each likes a touch of it;
But the Antique, to my taste, has too much of it:
It is too life-like—dealers with old story
Are never at a loss for allegory.
And so with the Antique, we too should cover it,
Find one thing or another to paste over it.
A nasty set, I'll never know them rightly;
A stranger should, however, speak politely.
Hail! Ladies fair! Hail! Very Reverend
Gray-beards!
143
(gruffly).
What! means the fellow to offend?
Gray beard, or Gray bird, what does he think to say?
My name is Griffin—do not call me Gray:
Gray! bird or beast, none likes to be called Gray.
Gray-beard, forsooth! However far they range,
Words ring their origin in every change;
In ‘gray,’ ‘grief,’ ‘graveyard,’ ‘grim,’ and each such sound,
The thought, etymologically bound,
Offends, puts the best temper out of tune.
Mephistopheles.
And yet, not to give in to you too soon,
The ‘gri’ in Griffin, your own honoured name,
Is not unpleasing.
Griffins
(in the same tone).
Aye, and for the same
Reason; the kindred thought you still can trace—
Our ‘gri’ is grip or grasp—we grasp at place
And honours, grasp at kingdoms, girls and gold:
Nor we alone—though some affect to blame,
In practice 'tis the universal game.
Fortune still aids the Griffin, Grasper bold.
144
Gold!—Said you Gold? laboriously we plied,
And heaps of it had grubbed, and sought to hide
In cave and crannied rock far out of sight;
Our hoarded gold the Arimaspians eyed,
Made off with it—and, proud of their success,
Look at them laughing there at our distress!
Griffins.
Be at ease—we'll bring the rascals to confession.
Arimaspians.
But not to-night; not this free festival night:
Ours for the nonce is undisturbed possession,
And ere the morning 'twill have vanished quite.
Mephistopheles
(who has placed himself between the Sphinxes).
Here is a spot that I can cotton to!
At home quite,—I so understand them all!
Sphinxes.
We breathe our Spirit tones—by you
They are made Corporeal.
By and bye we may know something more of you;
But now just tell us what's your name? pray do.
145
Name? Men are fond of giving names to me,
And thus it is I've many a name. Let's see—
Are any Britons here? No doubt there are,
And they will vouch for me. They travel far
To visit fields of battle, waterfalls,
Your dreary classic ruins, broken walls.
This were the very place for such as they;
They will bear witness how in the old play
They saw me there as Old Iniquity.
Sphinx.
Why so called?
Mephistopheles.
'Tis a mystery to me.
Sphinx.
Likely enough. Know you anything of the power
Of the stars? What says the aspect of the hour?
Mephistopheles
(looking up).
Star after star shoots fast and far, and bright
And sharp shines down the crescent moon to-night.
Here in this comfortable spot and snug,
I'll nestle close to your warm lion-rug:
Go farther and fare worse.—To climb up would
Be dangerous, in no case do much good.
Out with a riddle—I've some small skill in
Riddles—or tip me a charade,—begin.
146
Thyself—take that—there were a riddle indeed.
The strange enigma shall we try to read?
‘Needful alike to good man and to bad,
Target, the ascetic's zeal to test and prove,
Accomplice in mad projects of the mad,
At all times nothing but a jest to Jove?’
First Griffin
(snarling).
I do not like him—what a face!
Second Griffin
(snarling more gruffly).
The rascal does not know his place;
He's none of ours—what brings him here?
Both.
A vile beast!—nothing good, I fear.
Mephistopheles
(brutally).
Aye, pretty treatment of a guest, because
You think his nails can't scrape like your sharp claws.
Let's try them.
Sphinx
(mildly).
If you like it, you may stay;
But you'll be off soon—are on thorns to go;
—And yet such suitor for a lady's grace
Is pretty sure at home to make his way.
Here you seem out of spirits, out of place.
147
I'm half in love,—admire your upper show
Of woman,—shudder at the Beast below.
Sphinx.
Liar! for this you'll suffer—scoffing thus—
Our claws are sound and sharp, we'd have you know—
The shrivelled horse-shank! he! too good for us!
[Sirens are heard preluding from above.
Mephistopheles.
And the Birds yonder on the poplar bough
That rock them to and fro, say, what are they?
Sphinx.
Beware! beware!—the Siren's song ere now
Hath lured the wisest and the best away.
Sirens
(singing).
Where no Beauty is, why linger?
'Mong these strange shapes wherefore dwell?
Listen!—hither, grouped together,
We have come, and time our voices
As beseemeth Sirens well.
Sphinxes
(mocking and mimicking them).
Force them from the branches green,
Where their falcon claws they screen;
148
To their song! their talons fear!
Sirens.
Hate and Envy—hence begone!
All the joys, that Nature scatters
Over earth and over waters,
Ours to gather into one.
Ever in our welcomings
Still is seen the best, the ‘gayest,
Happiest attitude of things.’
Mephistopheles
(mimicking)
These are their new and pretty things.
From the throat and from the strings
Tone round tone still winds and weaves.
This thrilling is all lost on me,
Tickles the ear,—the heart, left free,
Nothing of the song receives.
Sphinxes.
Heart! why a leathern bag fills up the place
Of heart with you, as shrivelled as your face!
Faustus
(stepping forward).
How wonderful all here! Strange spectacle!
But not unpleasing—nay, it augurs well.
149
Features of power! what alien grandeur massed!
Gazing on them, my hopes anticipate,
And feel even now a favourable fate.
To what far distant days—what far-off lands—
This deep glance bears me!—
(Pointing to the Sphinxes.)
Before such as these
Œdipus stood—
And before such as these
(Pointing to the Sirens.)
Ulysses crouched him down in hempen bands.—
(To the Colossal Ants.)
Such were the far-famed gatherers of gold!—
(To the Griffins.)
These guarded it in firm and faithful hold.
New life thrills through me as I gaze on these.
Forms! Oh, how grand!—How grand the Memories!
Mephistopheles.
Such erewhile you'd have scouted; but at present
They seem to you delectable and pleasant.
When a man's amorous, and has in chase
The girl he wants, no monster's out of place.
Faustus
(to the Sphinxes).
Shapes, that seem Woman, Ye must answer me:
Have any of you seen Helen? Where is She?
150
Seen Helen?—we? We reach not to her days.
The last of us was killed by Hercules.
From Cheiron you, perhaps, may make it out;
He's pretty surely galloping about
In this wild spirit-night;—catch him who can—
It is no easy task: but he's your man.
Sirens.
Oh, go not from us!—go not from us!
Heed not what old fablers say
Of Ulysses onward speeding
From the Sirens of the bay.
With us he, in sweet repose,
Loitered long, and legends many
Had we of the times of Troy.
All to thee will we disclose,
All confide to thee with joy,
Dearer thou to us than any!
Come! oh, come! the glad green sea
Longs, with us, to welcome thee!
Sphinxes.
Oh! let them not delude thy noble mind.
As ropes Ulysses, let our counsel bind
Thee! If the mighty Cheiron thou dost find,
'Twill prove us right.
[Exit Faustus.
151
(fretfully).
What's that croaks by in flapping flight?
'Tis gone too quick to catch the sight!
One—two—three—ten,—like shadows past,—
Who thinks to catch them must fly fast.
Sphinxes.
Swift as the winter tempest these,
Swift as the darts of Hercules;
They are the Stymphalides.
Their vulture-beak and gander-foot
Look well; but that is as one thinks.
Their croak is meant for a salute.
These Croakers say they're cousins: count the links
Between them and the family of Sphinx.
Mephistopheles
(seeming terrified).
Beside the Croakers, there's some other stuff,
Hissing abominably—
Sphinx.
Like enough.
You—scared at hissing!—nothing, sure, in this.
They're always hissing who can only hiss.
These are the heads of the Lernæan snake,
Cut from the main stump off. What airs they take
On the strength of the separation!—shine as proudly
As the old serpent, and they hiss as loudly.
152
These gestures of such comical distress!
What do you want, what is't you would express?
Off with you! How his neck turns round awry—
Oh! now I see what has so caught his eye.
Don't think of us. He's off! They're pretty faces,
No doubt of it; but have done with these grimaces.
The group of Lamiæ—smart girls—no great matter
Of beauty—bold fronts—red lips—smiles that flatter,
And looks that have allurements for a Satyr.
The goat-foot's sure to win such ladies' grace.
Mephistopheles.
When I return shall you be in this place?
Sphinx.
Thou and they may sport and play,
—Airy shapes, that pass away;
From Egypt we—and one of us is known
For a full thousand years on the same throne.
On our position fix your earnest gaze;
We rule the Lunar—rule the Solar days.
—Airy shapes, that pass away;
From Egypt we—and one of us is known
For a full thousand years on the same throne.
On our position fix your earnest gaze;
We rule the Lunar—rule the Solar days.
We sit before the Pyramids, we see
Judgment done upon the Nations,
War, and Peace, and Inundations.
Change of feature none know We.
Judgment done upon the Nations,
War, and Peace, and Inundations.
Change of feature none know We.
153
Peneios, Faustus, Nymphs, Cheiron, Manto.
Peneios.
Lull me still with thy faint whispers,
Soft sedge! sister reeds, sigh low!
Willow, wave with langourous breathing!
Poplars, ye, that tremble so,
Rocking still beside my stream,
Murmur back my broken dream!
A thick dense heat—a shudder dread,
Secret, through all nature spread,
Wakes me in my rolling bed.
Faustus.
Is it that my ear deceives?
Sure I heard behind the leaves
Other sounds than of the stream,
That like human accents seem:
Tittering among the trees—
Prattling ripple—laughing breeze.
Nymphs
(singing).
Weary and way-sore,
Oh! were it not best,
In the cool, for the tired limbs
To lie down and rest?
154
The rest that would fly thee,
Enjoying the rest
That the world would deny thee;
While we lull thee, and soothe thee,
And linger close by thee.
Faustus.
Awake—I am awake—yes, yes!
I am awake! Fade not away,
Fair forms! but still pursue your play
Where my eye yonder shapes the scene.
Dreams are they?—are they memories?
How strange the feeling! All that is
Seems as though it before had been.
I am awake! Fade not away,
Fair forms! but still pursue your play
Where my eye yonder shapes the scene.
Dreams are they?—are they memories?
How strange the feeling! All that is
Seems as though it before had been.
Where the cool bowering copse-wood weaves
Its dance of agitated leaves,
I hear—scarce hear—the water's flow!
From all sides round, in hundred rills,
It ripples down, unites and fills
A clear bright space below,
Where, in a pure bed, nothing deep,
The crystal currents have their sleep.
Its dance of agitated leaves,
I hear—scarce hear—the water's flow!
From all sides round, in hundred rills,
It ripples down, unites and fills
A clear bright space below,
Where, in a pure bed, nothing deep,
The crystal currents have their sleep.
Nymphs bathing,—and from the moist glass we see,
Amused, of sleek young limbs the double gleam.
Grouped, swimming boldly, wading timidly.
Hark! splash of water; laugh, and shriek, and scream!
Amused, of sleek young limbs the double gleam.
155
Hark! splash of water; laugh, and shriek, and scream!
This were enough to satisfy
And charm the fascinated eye;
But the sense onward, onward still would press,
Would pierce with searching glance the screen
Of the rich bower, whose green recess
Conceals the lofty Queen.
And charm the fascinated eye;
But the sense onward, onward still would press,
Would pierce with searching glance the screen
Of the rich bower, whose green recess
Conceals the lofty Queen.
Strange! very strange! and swans, swans too are here!
Majestically borne from cove and creek,
In slumber-seeming motion on they steer.
Companionable, kindly; but what pride!
Contemplating the softened image of
Breast snow-white, stately head, and arching neck,
As though with their own lovely forms in love,
O'er the still mirror peacefully they glide.
Majestically borne from cove and creek,
In slumber-seeming motion on they steer.
Companionable, kindly; but what pride!
Contemplating the softened image of
Breast snow-white, stately head, and arching neck,
As though with their own lovely forms in love,
O'er the still mirror peacefully they glide.
And one before the rest,
Bold with expanded breast,
Moves with imperial dignity and grace:
His feathers, roughed out wide—wave on the waves—
Thro' snowy foam that his white plumage laves,
He presses to the dear, the dedicated place.
And see the rest—reposing light illumes,
While to and fro they float, their tranquil plumes.
And lo! they rouse them; see! the splendid strife:
Fain would they chase away these maidens coy,
Whose mistress, can she now their thoughts employ?
Their one thought is security—is life!
Bold with expanded breast,
Moves with imperial dignity and grace:
His feathers, roughed out wide—wave on the waves—
Thro' snowy foam that his white plumage laves,
He presses to the dear, the dedicated place.
156
While to and fro they float, their tranquil plumes.
And lo! they rouse them; see! the splendid strife:
Fain would they chase away these maidens coy,
Whose mistress, can she now their thoughts employ?
Their one thought is security—is life!
NYMPHS.
Sisters, listen! lay your ear
To the river's green marge here.
Do I hear, or do I dream,
Sound of horses' hoofs that seem
Swift as of a courier's flight
Bringing tidings of the night?
FAUSTUS.
Shocks, as of leaping thunder!
Earth! will it spring asunder?
Nearer and nearer now, and ringing loud
Under the quick feet of a courser proud.
Thither, mine eye, glance thither! Favouring Fate!
Is it to be? Am I the Fortunate?
Wonder unparalleled! and will it be?
A rider gallops hither. In his air
What courage! what intelligence is there!
Borne by a courser white—blindingly bright.
I err not; 'tis no mockery of the sight.
It is, it is the son of Philyra.
Halt, Cheiron! halt! I have much to say to thee.
157
What say'st? what is't?
Faustus.
A moment check thy pace.
Cheiron.
I rest not.
Faustus.
Take me.
Cheiron.
Up! then. As we race,
You may give me the happiness of knowing
What you're about, and which way you are going.
We're on the bank; I'll take you 'cross the river.
Faustus.
Oh! as for that, I'll go whithersoever
You go.
And I must thank thee evermore,
Noblest of men, whose fame 'tis to have taught
The Heroes of the glorious days of yore,
The Poet's world of Chief and Argonaut.
Cheiron.
Pass over that—Pallas's own success
When she played Mentor could not well be less.
'Tis little matter what is taught, men will,
Taught or untaught, go on the same way still.
158
Physician, learned in names of herbs and fruits,
Who to the very deepest knowest all roots;
Wounds thou dost mitigate, and sick men cheer,
In Spirit and in Body art thou here?
Cheiron.
Was a man wounded, I was in a trice
Upon the field with aid and with advice.
What I did, much or little, anyhow
The herb-women and priests inherit now.
Faustus.
There spoke the genuine great man, who disclaims
Peculiar merit in his acts or aims;
And though of all in every way the best,
'Gainst any praise still enters his protest.
Cheiron.
You seem to me a flatterer of skill,
A practised hand in winding at your will
People and prince.
Faustus.
But, tell me,—you have seen
The great men of your time, and you have been
Rival, in everything that wins man's praise
Of the very noblest, didst live out thy days
True Hero, Demigod,—say in thy thoughts
159
Then figuring on earth 'mong men, seemed best.
Cheiron.
In the high circle of the Argonauts,
Each, as the soul breathed power, distinction held;
Each in his own peculiar path excelled.
The Dioscuri brothers won their way
Where youthful bloom and manly beauty sway;
In the Boreades, for others' weal
Sprang instant action from determined zeal.
A thoughtful man, strong, energetic, clear,
Such was Prince Jason, to the ladies dear.
And tender Orpheus swayed the lyre—calm heart
Was his—and his true miracles of art.
Sharp-sighted Lynceus, he by day and dark,
Through rock and strand steered safe the holy bark.
In danger's hour true brotherhood is shown,
Each works, and all praise each. Each works alone.
Faustus.
Will you say nothing then of Hercules?
Cheiron.
Oh! call not back that feeling, wake thou not
The longing for the old days that have been.
Phœbus or Hermes I had never seen,
Or Ares, or the rest; in Hercules
The god-like stood before these eyes of mine
Impersonated—all that of divine
160
All the mind imaged or the heart believed!
A king by Nature made. What dignity
In youth's first bloom!—How gentle, too, was he!
Gave to his elder brother service true,
And loved the ladies with devotion due.
Son such as he will never more be given
By Earth for Hebe to lead up to heaven;
Songs all in vain to make him known,
Would strive, and sculptors torture stone.
Faustus.
Never did sculptor, labour as he might,
Bring out such perfect image to the sight
Of that imperial look, that god-like mind.
But now that the most beautiful of men
You thus have showed me, try your hand again
With the most beautiful of womankind.
Cheiron.
What? Woman's Beauty?—The words, thus combined,
Seem meaningless,—the shape of faultless mould
Too often a stiff image, marble-cold.
Only the Being, whose glad life flows free,
And sheds around it the perpetual cheer
Of joyousness, hath interest for me.
The Beautiful in its own placid sphere
Rests all apart. Grace charms resistlessly,
As Helen, when I carried her, and she—
161
You—carried—her?
Cheiron.
Yes—I—upon this back.
Faustus.
Was there not hitherto perplexity
Enough? What more?—here sitting where she sate.
Cheiron.
She grasped into my hair, as you do now.
Faustus.
My brain whirls round—oh! tell me when and how
It was. She is my sole desire; say when
And whence, and whither, whither?
Cheiron.
The Dioscuri brothers had just freed
Their little sister from the spoiler's hand;
And now upon their homeward road they speed.
Again the robbers pluck up courage, and
The brothers, with whom Helena then was,
Would clear Eleusis' swamp in rapid flight:
They waded, and I, pawing, swam across.
Then sprang she off, and my moist mane she smoothed,
Patted me with her fondling hand, and soothed.
162
Such self-possession, such calm consciousness!
She was,—how charming!—young and the delight
Of the aged.
Faustus.
Then just seven years old, not quite
Seven.
Cheiron.
What! the philologues have been with you,
Puzzling your brains, themselves deceiving too;
Your Mythologic lady has no age,
Is from her very birth-time all the rage.
Like nothing but herself: in childhood carried
By spoilers off—recovered—wooed—won—married.
Years but increase her charms, bring lovers plenty;
She's never old—nay, never comes to twenty.
Lovely, and to be loved! The Poet seizes
The fair form and does with her what he pleases.
The Poet is not bound by time or distance.
Faustus.
Time for her! time then can have no existence.
And so Achilles found her—Time the while
Ceasing to be—on Leuke's lonely isle.
Strange hap was theirs of blissful ecstacy—
Love wrung from unrelenting Destiny!
163
Charm into life that deathless form again—
Eternal as the gods? Yes! Gentleness
And winning Grace are hers, and not the less
Hers the calm sway of Dignity serene.
You saw long since whom I to-day have seen.
And She is Beautiful. 'Tis not the spell,
'Tis not the spell of Gracefulness alone—
'Tis Beauty, Beauty irresistible!
We see, we love, we long to make our own.
With her enraptured Soul, Sense, Being twine—
I have no life if Helen be not mine.
Cheiron.
Stranger! this rapture men would call the flame
Of Love; with Spirits madness is its name.
'Tis lucky that the fit has seized you here,
And on this night, of all nights of the year;
It is my wont each year, upon this night,
For one short moment in my circling flight,
To visit Manto, Æsculapius' child,
Who in her father's temple, priestess there,
Still lifts her supplicating hands in prayer,
That he illumine the physician's mind,
And from their rash destroyers save mankind—
The best loved of the sibyls' guild; no wild
Mad raving there, but ever good and mild.
Health will come soon from simples of the field
Applied by her.
164
But I would not be healed;
My mind is now all-powerful. Dispossessed
I sink to man, no better than the rest.
Cheiron.
In the noble fount is healing—scorn it not.
Now, down! Down quickly! we are at the spot.
Faustus.
Whither hast brought me in the gray of night,
Landing me in the plash and pebbles here?
Cheiron.
See! on the left Olympus. On the right
Peneios. Here strove Rome and Greece in fight;
A mighty kingdom melts in sand away—
The Monarch's flight—the Burgher's triumph-day.
The Eternal Temple resting in the clear
Light of the moon stands out—how very near!
Manto
(dreaming, from within).
This a something doth import.
Threshold rings, and temple-court,
Horses' footfalls echoing.
Demigods are entering.
Cheiron.
All's right! Open your eyes, and see all's right.
165
(awaking).
Welcome! I see you have not missed the night.
Cheiron.
Unfallen still stands your ancient temple-home!
Manto.
Unweariable you still range and roam!
Cheiron.
You rest in changeless bower of quiet deep,
And I in everlasting circuit sweep.
Manto.
I tarry—round Me still wheels rolling Time.
But—this man—
Cheiron.
The mad night hath seized him in
Its whirls, up flung him in its sludge and slime;
And Helen—madman—Helen he would win,
And knows not how or where he should begin.
With Æsculapian aid he may do well.
Manto.
I love him who desires th'Impossible.
[Cheiron is already far off.
Manto
(to Faustus).
Onward! Adventurous! with joy proceed!
Enter in boldly! Down the dark path speed
166
Beneath Olympus, where with longing eyes
She seeks the smile of interdicted skies.
There did I smuggle Orpheus in of old.
Fare better thou! Be Fortunate! Be Bold!
[They descend.
167
Sirens, Seismos, Sphinxes, Griffins, Ants, Pygmies, Dactyls, Cranes of Ibycus, &c.
Sirens.
Dash we into the Peneios,
Swim we with him down in glee,
With the charm of song inviting
All to seek the spreading sea.
Swim we with him down in glee,
With the charm of song inviting
All to seek the spreading sea.
There be those who will not listen—
Hapless! yet with song we call,
To the Festival of Ocean,
To the healing waters, all.
Were we there, oh! with what rapture
Would we raise our lofty Pæan;
In the wave is every blessing—
Come with us to the Ægean.
[Earthquake.
Hapless! yet with song we call,
To the Festival of Ocean,
To the healing waters, all.
Were we there, oh! with what rapture
Would we raise our lofty Pæan;
In the wave is every blessing—
Come with us to the Ægean.
Waves foam back to the spring-head,
Nor stream, as wont, down the river's bed;
The trembling ground starts and recoils,
And the tainted water boils.
The gritty bank swells. Moisture soaks
Thro' pebbly sand. 'T will burst!—it smokes!
Fly hence! all, all—oh! fly we hence;
This wonder-work of violence
Bodes good to none—is an offence
To Nature's Truth. Fly hence! fly hence!
Nor stream, as wont, down the river's bed;
The trembling ground starts and recoils,
And the tainted water boils.
The gritty bank swells. Moisture soaks
Thro' pebbly sand. 'T will burst!—it smokes!
Fly hence! all, all—oh! fly we hence;
This wonder-work of violence
168
To Nature's Truth. Fly hence! fly hence!
Come, joyous noble guests—come ye
To the glad Feast of the Sea,
Where tremulously wavelets shine,
And swelling lap the white sea-line;
Above, below, in double glow,
In sky and sea smiles Luna calm,
And sheds in dew her holy balm.
Yonder is Movement!—Freedom! Life!
Here, Suffering and Constraint and Strife:
The throes of agonising earth
In travail with a monstrous birth.
To the glad Feast of the Sea,
Where tremulously wavelets shine,
And swelling lap the white sea-line;
Above, below, in double glow,
In sky and sea smiles Luna calm,
And sheds in dew her holy balm.
Yonder is Movement!—Freedom! Life!
Here, Suffering and Constraint and Strife:
The throes of agonising earth
In travail with a monstrous birth.
All that are prudent, fly apace;
There is a horror o'er the place.
There is a horror o'er the place.
Seismos
(still in the depths of the earth, struggling upward and grumbling; his voice makes itself heard).
One shove more—one shove will do it;
Put but sides and shoulders to it;
One tug more and I am through it.
Thus I tear my way before me,
Sure to rise o'er all that's o'er me.
One tug more—another shove now:
I am in the world above now.
[Appears as described.
169
What a shudder! what a taking
Earth must be in—trembling, quaking!
What a going 'gainst the grain!
What a struggle, stress, and strain!
What a rocking, what a wringing!
Back and forward, swaying, swinging!
But we'll keep the post we've taken,
Though all round about be shaken,
Though all Hell in horror break in.
Earth must be in—trembling, quaking!
What a going 'gainst the grain!
What a struggle, stress, and strain!
What a rocking, what a wringing!
Back and forward, swaying, swinging!
But we'll keep the post we've taken,
Though all round about be shaken,
Though all Hell in horror break in.
And behold a vault ascending!
Wonderful!—'tis He! 'tis He!
'Tis the Old Man of the Sea!
He, who built amid the foam—
Ocean's bed before him rending—
Delos, the bright island-home,
That, when earth denied all other
Shelter to a wandering mother,
There her sorrows might have ending.
He with striving, squeezing, driving,
Arms extending, broad back bending,
Very Atlas in his gesture,
Tears his way thro' earth's green vesture,
Carries with him in his travel
Land and sand, and grit and gravel;
All that hitherto was sleeping,
An unbroken quiet keeping,
In the river bed at rest,
Or upon the valley's breast.
Unfatigued and still defiant,
See the Caryatid giant!
Loads of stony scaffolding
To his sides and shoulders cling.
From his subterranean prison
One half of him up hath risen.
Wonderful!—'tis He! 'tis He!
'Tis the Old Man of the Sea!
He, who built amid the foam—
Ocean's bed before him rending—
Delos, the bright island-home,
That, when earth denied all other
Shelter to a wandering mother,
There her sorrows might have ending.
He with striving, squeezing, driving,
Arms extending, broad back bending,
Very Atlas in his gesture,
Tears his way thro' earth's green vesture,
Carries with him in his travel
Land and sand, and grit and gravel;
All that hitherto was sleeping,
An unbroken quiet keeping,
170
Or upon the valley's breast.
Unfatigued and still defiant,
See the Caryatid giant!
Loads of stony scaffolding
To his sides and shoulders cling.
From his subterranean prison
One half of him up hath risen.
Now this is going too far—this must end,
The Sphinxes their position must defend.
The Sphinxes their position must defend.
Seismos.
I've done it all alone—'twas my sole act.
They now believe—they've seen me in the fact.
Had I not toiled and tugged with push and pull,
Would the world have been half so beautiful?
The mountain-summit's pure ethereal blue,
That, as from some enchanted heaven above,
So smiles upon the raptured painter's view;
Where would it be, did I not shake and shove?
My proud progenitors were looking on—
Swart Night and Chaos gloried in their son—
As in my strength, I, 'mong the Titans tall,
With Pelion played and Ossa, as at ball.
We then were young, and, as young blood inspired,
We raved and raged. At last, like children tired,
In half-malicious mirth the hills we clap
Upon Parnassus-head—a double cap.
171
Or listens, as the Muses sing in choir.
Even Jove's high stretcher I it was heaved out,
Where his loose thunder-bolts lie strewn about.
And now, with might and main, with stress and strain,
I haste head-foremost from the depths again.
In upper air have worked myself a place,
And shout out for some animated race
Of occupants—and doubtless not in vain—
With joyance and new life to people the new space.
Sphinxes.
We might have thought him one of the true stock
Of the primitive old Hills—a real Rock—
Had we not seen the struggles of his birth,
As the poor upstart wriggled out of earth.
Now bushy woods come clothing his gaunt sides—
Stone pressing upon stone his bald pate hides.
But what care we?—the intruder must retreat—
The Sphinx will never yield her holy seat.
Griffins.
Gold in leaflet—gold in glitter—
Take good care that thieves get none of it;
Through the chinks I see it glitter:
Up! ye Emmets, make your own of it.
172
Giants, with shattering
Strength, have up sped it;
Little feet pattering
Joyously tread it.
O'er the hill, in and out,
Tiny things many
Wander in groups about
Fissure and cranny.
Swifter come—swifter come.
Each chink has in it
Rich gold in every crumb:
Hasten to win it.
Loiter and linger not;
Hasten to snatch it;
The treasure is yours
If you only can catch it.
Be earnest—be active—
Come quick to the fountain
Of wealth—seize the gold,
And good-bye to the mountain!
Griffins.
In with the gold! In with it!—swell the heap!
We'll lay our claws upon't—the best bolts they:
I warrant safe the treasure that they keep.
173
We're here—we have our place. We cannot say
How it came to be, but so it is. Ask not
Whence 'tis we came—here we are, on the spot,
Here undeniably. And here and there,
Where'er there is but room to breathe—where'er
You find a region meet for joyous life,
If but a rocky crevice shows itself,
Up springs your dwarf; and with the tiny elf
Be sure ere long to find his tiny wife.
The active little man, the dwarfess fair,
You find them here, and there, and everywhere;
Diligent little people—pair and pair.
I do not know if things in the old day
Went on in Paradise the self-same way;
That here they do so happily we know,
And thank our stars delighted that 'tis so.
Life, joyous life, everywhere, east and west,
Springs evermore from Earth's maternal breast.
Dactyls.
In one creative night, if Earth
Hath brought these little things to birth,
Be sure the same life-giving power
To lesser folk will lend their hour,
Who, led by the same law of kind,
Will everywhere fit partners find.
174
'Tis a time of Peace, and therefore
The true moment to prepare for
War. Then build the smithy! heap on
Coals! and cuirass shape and weapon!
All our vassals should be arming.
Come, ye Emmets, hither swarming;
Come, in thousands come, and with ye
Bring the metals for the smithy.
Dactyls, come with logs and tinder;
Come with coals, and coke, and cinder.
Generalissimo.
Stand together in a row,
Fix the arrow, strain the bow;
Aim, secure and steady, take
At the Herons of the lake.
Nestling high, how proud they seem!
And their plumes, how bright they gleam!
Slay them—lay the proud ones low;
Fix the arrow, strain the bow;
Stand together, one and all.
Darts fly thick, and thousands fall.
Fix the arrow, strain the bow;
Aim, secure and steady, take
At the Herons of the lake.
Nestling high, how proud they seem!
And their plumes, how bright they gleam!
Slay them—lay the proud ones low;
Fix the arrow, strain the bow;
Stand together, one and all.
Darts fly thick, and thousands fall.
Wide waving o'er our helmets shall the crest
Of heron-plumes the victory attest.
Of heron-plumes the victory attest.
Emmets and Dactyls.
None now to rescue—all resistance vain.
We knead the iron, and they forge the chain.
175
And helpless we, but hope a better day,
And till it's dawn, repine, but must obey.
The Cranes of Ibycus.
Dying wail! and the insulting
Cry of murderers exulting!
Cry of murderers exulting!
Wings in torture agonising
Quiver—anguish of the dying!
Shrieks of pain from earth are rising
To the heights where we are flying.
Mingled all in one fell slaughter,
Reddening with their blood the water!
Self-conceit, and the ambition
To affect a high condition,
And reduce to servile homage
Brother dwarflings, brought these troubles,
Led the mannikin land-nobles
To the murder, for their plumage,
Of the Herons. See, it waves there
O'er the helms of the proud slaves there,
Paunchy, bandy-legged, and crooked.
Quiver—anguish of the dying!
Shrieks of pain from earth are rising
To the heights where we are flying.
Mingled all in one fell slaughter,
Reddening with their blood the water!
Self-conceit, and the ambition
To affect a high condition,
And reduce to servile homage
Brother dwarflings, brought these troubles,
Led the mannikin land-nobles
To the murder, for their plumage,
Of the Herons. See, it waves there
O'er the helms of the proud slaves there,
Paunchy, bandy-legged, and crooked.
Come with beaks and talons hooked,
Ye that of our army be,
Heron-wanderers of the sea;
Come, as Nature bids, with engines
Nature gives, awake to vengeance.
They have slain your near relations.
Root their name from out the nations;
Give no quarter—show no favour—
Root the rascals out for ever.
Ye that of our army be,
Heron-wanderers of the sea;
176
Nature gives, awake to vengeance.
They have slain your near relations.
Root their name from out the nations;
Give no quarter—show no favour—
Root the rascals out for ever.
[Disperse, croaking in the air.
177
Mephistopheles, Lamiæ, Oread, Homunculus.
Mephistopheles
(alone).
The Northern hags at will I wind about,—
These Foreign Spirits put one sadly out.
The Blocksberg is firm ground where'er you stray,
And well defined—you cannot lose your way;
Frau Ilse at her stone is watching still,
And Heinrich cheers you from his faithful hill;
The Schnarchers growl and snarl, and Elend hears
No change to speak of for a thousand years.
Here, who can say if he moves swift or slow,
When the ground boils and bubbles from below?
On a smooth field you take a quiet stroll,
When—thump!—behind, a mountain will uproll
Its waves: 'tis scarce a mountain—but of height
Enough to screen me from the Sphinxes' sight.
Adown the valley fires are flickering dun,
And groups dance round, that promise lots of fun.
See there a knot of girls that smirking, smiling,
Would seem to welcome me with looks beguiling.
That coyly, now retreating, now advances,
And pours upon me showers of merry glances.
But softly, softly, on them. Fond of sweets,
The traveller must snap up what he meets.
178
Lamiæ.
Quicker come—quicker come,
Faster and faster;
Luring on after us
The old witch-master.
Faster and faster;
Luring on after us
The old witch-master.
Now for a little while
Loiter and linger;
Lure him with merry smile;
Beckon with finger.
Loiter and linger;
Lure him with merry smile;
Beckon with finger.
Precious the prize to hold:
Happy the winners,
If we can catch the old
Prince of all sinners.
Happy the winners,
If we can catch the old
Prince of all sinners.
O'er the uneven ground,
Stumping and stumbling;
O'er the uneven ground,
Tripping and tumbling,
Stumping and stumbling;
O'er the uneven ground,
Tripping and tumbling,
'Twere pleasant to lead
To the path of repentance—
Staggering—swaggering—
Our new acquaintance.
To the path of repentance—
Staggering—swaggering—
Our new acquaintance.
Dragging his game-leg
Leave him behind,
He with his lame leg—
We like the wind.
Leave him behind,
He with his lame leg—
We like the wind.
179
(hesitating).
Deceivers that they are! Oh, fate accursed!
Every man tricked and tempted like the first!
Yes, all grow older, but none grows more steady.
Poor devil! wert thou not fooled enough already?
They're good for nothing. We know how the case is,
With their tight laces and patched painted faces.
Rotten in every limb—peep where you will,
Not a sound spot in them—all rotten ripe.
We know it, see it, feel it, too—and still
What man but dances when the carrions pipe?
Lamiæ
(stopping).
Look sharp—he halts—he hesitates—he lingers.
At him, girls, now, or he'll slip through our fingers.
[Advancing boldly.
Mephistopheles.
Pluck up your courage! Why these twitches
Of doubt? Pluck up and join the revel.
If in the world there were no witches,
The devil a one would be a devil.
Lamiæ
(gracefully).
Round this hero let us twine
A sportive ring, till in his eyes
One seems most fair,—till love arise,
And that soft heart to one inclines.
180
Yes! Could one judge by this uncertain light,
Women, ye seem; of rank, if I see right;
You're handsome—that is, I've nothing to say
To the contrary—you're beauties in your way.
Empusa
(rushing in).
And I too. Cousins, you must let me in
As one of you.
Lamiæ.
No, if her way she win
To our circle, she'll—she is a spoil-sport quite.
Empusa
(to Mephistopheles).
Empusa with the Ass's foot
Waits your affectionate salute.
You've but a Horse's shank, 'tis true,
Yet, Cousin, I acknowledge you.
Mephistopheles.
Here, travelling without any ostentation,
Incognito, and in a foreign nation,
How could one think of meeting a relation?
But the old proverb still holds here and there,
From Hartz to Hellas Cousins everywhere.
181
You see me as I am,—I speak out plain.
I could take many shapes; but I retain
My own to-night—the Ass's head does best
To compliment my cousin and my guest.
Mephistopheles.
Clanship and kin is all in all, I see,
With these folks, but—unpleasant though it be
To meet what seems a compliment with slight—
The Ass's head, I must ignore it quite.
Lamiæ.
Beast! nasty Beast! she comes to scare
Away the Lovely and the Fair.
The Beauty and the Love, that shone
Till she came, when she comes is gone.
Mephistopheles.
And the fair cousins, slender slips and tender—
Something about them still makes me suspicious.
Behind the roses of their little cheeks,
A man may meet, perhaps, more than he seeks,
And transformations other than he wishes.
Lamia.
Try us, we're many—try it, if you've pluck:
Here, take your choice of us. I wish you luck.
182
Speak plainly—make up to the prettiest.
You act the lover wretchedly—your air
Of pride amuses and repels the fair.
Do mix with girls with somewhat more of sense,
With somewhat less, too, of magnificence.
Now, girls, let fall your masks, and show the man—
He well deserves such favour—all you can.
Mephistopheles.
I've made my choice; come, dearest, loveliest,
Come to my arms! A broomstick, I protest!
And this one,—horrid face, avaunt!
Lamia.
Just served you right; what did you want?
Mephistopheles.
The Little one, I caught her; but she shapes
Herself into a lizard and escapes:
As sliding through my hands she presses,
I feel the soft smooth serpent tresses.
I catch the Tall one next—the Bacchanal
Is off—the thyrsus staff, I have it all:
Pine-stem and prickly cone, instead
Of the tall girl with the high head.
—Now for the Fat one, there a man shall
Regale himself with the substantial:
183
I'll try, for the last time, what my luck may do.
The skinny Fungus shrivels—falls in two,
Leaving but dust and ashes, as I live!
Lamiæ.
Break the chain, and, hand from hand
Disengaging, loose the band.
Disengaging, loose the band.
On the Bat's wing sweep and hover!
Lightning glance of dusky pinions!
He with us to play the lover?
Foreign rascal! restless rover!
Hunt him out of our dominions.
Lightning glance of dusky pinions!
He with us to play the lover?
Foreign rascal! restless rover!
Hunt him out of our dominions.
Witch's son—what strange confusion—
Subject of another empire,
Make him pay for his intrusion!
Scare him, Flitter-mouse and Vampire!
Subject of another empire,
Make him pay for his intrusion!
Scare him, Flitter-mouse and Vampire!
[Lamiæ vanish.
Mephistopheles
(shaking himself).
I've not learned much in my travels, on my word.
Absurd 'tis here, and in the North absurd.
Spectres are cross-grained creatures everywhere,
People and Poets stupid here as there.
Here and there the same sensual game is played;
And here as there illusion lends its aid.
The smile of beauty tempted me to grasp,
And horrors to my shuddering breast I clasp.
184
And the illusion lasting somewhat longer!
(Losing his way among the rocks.)
Where am I? where's the road? what tricks they play us!
There was a path here; path—why all is chaos.
'Twas a smooth road on which I hither bore me,
And now see what a mountain stands before me!
Here I go scrambling up and down in vain,
Where shall I find my Sphinx-women again?
The thing must be a madman's dream outright—
A chain of mountains risen up in one night.
Witch-ride! why this outdoes our witch-rides all:
They bring their Blocksberg with them to the ball.
Oread
(from the natural rock).
Climb up here! reverence the old
Last rock-stairs of the Pindus range.
By Nature formed, in me behold
A hill that knows no shock of change.
I stood unmoved the same unshattered head,
When over me Pompeius, conquered, fled.
These are but fancy-forms, the sight that mock.
They vanish with the crowing of the cock.
Such fables oftentimes I see uprise,
And sink as suddenly before the eyes.
185
Honour to thee, time-honoured Headland; crowned
With the high strength of oaks that bower thee round.
The clearest moonshine hath no spear
To pierce the ebon darkness here.
But, 'mong the bushes lo! a modest light
Glides near—how strangely everything comes right!—
It is no other than Homunculus!
Whither, young fellow, are you going thus?
Enter Homunculus.
Homunculus.
Hither and thither, up, down, in and out;
From place to place still hovering about,
Impatient the free air of life to breathe,
Longing to break the glass that is my sheath—
My chrysalis; but everywhere I see
Such sights! I could not venture yet to be.
Now for a secret—I am on the track
Of two Philosophers. Their tongues, clack! clack!
Went evermore, and Nature—Nature was
The word. Keep me not from them. Of the laws
Of earthly being they must somewhat know:
Between them, I may learn some little; so
Pass into life by their experience wiser.
186
Shape your own course yourself—trust no adviser.
Philosopher and Phantom chum together,
And Phantast is a fool of the same feather;
Spectres in dozens the philosopher,
For some new creed your credence to obtain,
Will conjure up, or coin out of his brain.
Philosopher and Phantom chum together,
And Phantast is a fool of the same feather;
Spectres in dozens the philosopher,
For some new creed your credence to obtain,
Will conjure up, or coin out of his brain.
You never will get sense except you err.
Be, if you must—but into Being rise
By your own impulse.
By your own impulse.
Homunculus.
Yet it were not wise
The good advice chance offers here to miss.
Mephistopheles.
Away with you! We shall see more of this.
[They separate.
Anaxagoras, Thales, Homunculus.
Anaxagoras
(to Thales).
Your mind resists all reasoning. Can there be
Imagined stronger proof than what we see?
Thales.
The willing waves each little wind obey;
But, meeting with the rough rock, roll away.
187
Vapours of Fire have forced this rock through earth.
Thales.
In Moisture still the Living has its birth.
Homunculus
(joins them).
Let me with both of you walk side by side:
I have for Birth and Being to provide.
Anaxagoras.
Have you, oh Thales! ever in one night,
Seen a hill rise up out of mud to light?
Thales.
Never was Nature, and her effluent powers
Of Life, referred to days and nights and hours;
She acts in calm and regulated course—
Knows nothing of this Accidental force;
Even in her works of Most sublimity,
As in the Least, no violence knows she.
Anaxagoras.
But here such was. Here fierce Plutonic flame
With Æolus's stormy vapours came,
Burst through the earth's flat crust with monstrous throes,
And in the moment a New Hill arose.
188
Now, how does this assist your case? the Hill
Is there—there let it be with my good will:
Time's lost in such dispute that no fruit brings,
But holding patient folks in leading strings.
Anaxagoras.
Not long unpeopled is our New Hill left,
Its Myrmidons are crowding every cleft—
Pygmies, Emmets, Fingerlings,
—And other active little things.
(To Homunculus.)
To Royalty in thought hast never risen?
Been still sealed up a hermit in your prison?
If you can learn the arts of government,
I'll make you king—
Homunculus.
What says my Thales?
Thales.
Not with my consent.
I would not have my friend accept the crown.
Among the little all one does dwarfs down,
Even as the little placed amid the great
Partakes of greatness. Why deliberate?
See you the Cranes in blackening cloud?
Look yonder, where they gather proud,
189
Think you they would spare the king?
Talons sharp and pointed beak
Wrath upon the small folk wreak.
The Pygmies were no doubt the first
Offenders, but how short a time
Brings the vengeance-cloud to burst
In tempest on their crime!
The Pygmy folk the Herons slew,
As round their peaceful lakes they flew,
Or lay at rest in the calm nest.
Their arrowy death-shower brings ere long,
Fearful reprisals for foul wrong—
A righteous shedding of the blood
Of the malignant little brood.
The Cranes—the Cranes are coming, in
Thousands, to avenge their kin.
What now avails them shield or spear?
What now the Herons' plundered pride?
Pygmies and Dactyls shrink in fear,
And where shall the poor Emmets hide?
Their armies waver—shrink—fly—scatter.
All's over with them—little matter.
Anaxagoras
(after a pause, with solemnity).
Gods, that the world beneath the earth obeys,
Erewhile have had my praise;
Now to Celestial power,
In this terrific hour,
My supplicating eyes and voice I raise.
Erewhile have had my praise;
190
In this terrific hour,
My supplicating eyes and voice I raise.
Thou, in thy sky, who still on high
Dost in deathless youth shine on—
Thou, who with thy threefold name
And thy aspects three, art one;
Ever changing, still the same.
In this dread calamity,
Boding the fall of nations—all
My people—I do call on thee
Diana, Luna, Hecate!
Thou, that to thoughts beyond man's thoughts his breast
Expandest—thou, that symbol art of rest—
Calm in thy heavens—serenest—stormiest—
Be thy dread gulfs of shadow open thrown,
Thine ancient power, though magic bids not, shown.
Dost in deathless youth shine on—
Thou, who with thy threefold name
And thy aspects three, art one;
Ever changing, still the same.
In this dread calamity,
Boding the fall of nations—all
My people—I do call on thee
Diana, Luna, Hecate!
Thou, that to thoughts beyond man's thoughts his breast
Expandest—thou, that symbol art of rest—
Calm in thy heavens—serenest—stormiest—
Be thy dread gulfs of shadow open thrown,
Thine ancient power, though magic bids not, shown.
Am I too quickly heard, and has my prayer
Risen up to heaven, disturbed the regular
Order of Nature? Large, still larger—near,
Still nearer, comes the goddess's round throne:
Glares on the eye a thing of fright and fear,
Its fire to gloomier red each moment grown.
Come not more near: or this earth—land and sea—
Will perish, into atoms crushed by thee.
'Tis true, then, that the hags of Thessaly
In daring incantation sang thee down
From thy high path, and wrung, by fearful charm,
Through thy torn disk all that hath power to harm?
Risen up to heaven, disturbed the regular
Order of Nature? Large, still larger—near,
Still nearer, comes the goddess's round throne:
Glares on the eye a thing of fright and fear,
Its fire to gloomier red each moment grown.
Come not more near: or this earth—land and sea—
Will perish, into atoms crushed by thee.
191
In daring incantation sang thee down
From thy high path, and wrung, by fearful charm,
Through thy torn disk all that hath power to harm?
While I speak the bright shield darkles,
Splits, blazes out, and sparkles.
Rattling, hissing, crash of thunder,
Tempest.—Will it burst asunder?
At the steps of thy throne behold me lie,
Humbled. 'Twas I brought down the judgment I—
Splits, blazes out, and sparkles.
Rattling, hissing, crash of thunder,
Tempest.—Will it burst asunder?
At the steps of thy throne behold me lie,
Humbled. 'Twas I brought down the judgment I—
[Casts himself on his face.
Thales.
What a world in all he hath seen and heard!
I don't well know what has occurred.
I have not felt like him. No doubt
This mad hour puts one sadly out.
And Luna, careless of these shocks,
In her own place, as usual, rocks.
Homunculus.
Look over to the Pygmy ground.
The hill-top, that till now was round,
Is angular. A sudden shock
Thrilled through me, and I saw a rock
Fall from the moon:—with little care for
This questioning of why and wherefore,
192
It has crashed, and smashed, and slain.
Yet do I see with admiration,
This great contrivance of creation,
Convulsive spasms Below that move,
And agitations from Above,
In one night bringing up and down
The Mountain and the mountain's Crown.
Thales.
Peace! 'twas but Imagination:
Think not of that wretched nation.
Leave their hill—the nasty thing there,
Very well you were not king there.
Think not of that wretched nation.
Leave their hill—the nasty thing there,
Very well you were not king there.
But come along. The world is all commotion,
Preparing to receive with honour due,
The guests this Night of Wonder summons to
The solemn Festival of joyous Ocean.
Preparing to receive with honour due,
The guests this Night of Wonder summons to
The solemn Festival of joyous Ocean.
[Exeunt.
193
Mephistopheles, Dryad, Phorcyads.
Mephistopheles
(clambering up).
Up the steep rock-stairs must I make my way,
And 'mong the old oaks' stiff roots stumbling stray.
O'er my own Hartz the vapour of the pine
Breathes pitch, and that is a delight of mine:
I love it next to brimstone. 'Mongst the Greeks
The slightest smell of it in vain one seeks.
Without it, how they light their fires in Hell,
Or plague the inmates there, I cannot tell.
Dryad.
In your own country you perhaps are shrewd!
But, as a foreigner, unwise and rude.
Your thoughts should not revert to home-scenes here:
While in this land, the holy Oak revere.
Mephistopheles.
What one has lost, he deems beyond all price;
The customary is man's paradise.
But what's that clump of Three in the weak light?
Crowding down in the cave it cowers from sight.
Dryad.
The Phorcyads! Speak to them, if you are bold
Enough for it—if your blood runs not cold.
194
Bold! That I am. I see it with amaze—
I never saw the like in my born days:
Worse than the mandrake's writhings. One begins,
Looking on them, to think the deadly sins
Less horrible, compared with the enormity
Of this vile three-coiled tangle of deformity.
Monsters like these we never would let dwell
Even on the threshold of our murkiest Hell.
Here—in the land of Beauty, where men pique
Themselves upon the fame of the Antique—
Here to strike root! Hark! Stirring in their cell!
They scent the stranger near them. They would speak—
The vampire-bat's thin twittering feeble squeak.
Phorcyads.
Sisters, hand me the eye! Let it look forth
And see who treads our temple without leave.
Mephistopheles.
Bending in reverential awe I seek
Your threefold benediction to receive.
I am a stranger here: but you will give
Kind welcome to a distant relative.
Of your old gods I've seen some of great worth:
Ops, Rhea—bowed before both down to earth.
195
Of Chaos's: I know them well—the three—
They're sisters of yours. I have met them all
A few days since, in costume, at a ball:
But never, never have I seen before,
Among the things men honour and adore,
Anything any way resembling you.
Words have I none to say how your charms move
My admiration. What shall I then do?
In silence think of you—in silence love.
Phorcyads.
There's much good sense in what this Spirit says.
Mephistopheles.
I am amazed no poet hymns your praise.
How comes their silence? How can it have been
No sketch of you in painting have I seen?
Here were Art's perfect triumph! and how blest
The sculptor who such charmers fixed in stone,
Not Juno, Venus, Pallas, or the rest!
Phorcyads.
Living in depths of night, and all alone,
Thought of the kind never occurred to us.
Mephistopheles.
How could it? You, in deep den hidden thus,
Know nobody—by nobody are known.
196
With your peculiar beauties some high place,
Where Art and princely Splendour share the throne.
'Tis there your marble block in every street
Steps into life a hero on two feet.
'Tis there—
Phorcyads.
Hush! leave us where we are, resigned!
Wake not ambitious longings in our mind!
Born of the Night, of kin with Night alone;
Scarce to ourselves and to none other known.
Mephistopheles.
'Twill give no trouble: you need take no journey.
It may be done by proctor or attorney.
I'll manage it. As one eye for you three,
And one tooth does, surely it would not be
A contradiction in Mythology
Just to compress the triple essence into
A smaller compass. Let the Three be Two:
Consign to me the figure of the Third
For a little while.
First Phorcyad.
This is not so absurd
As it sounds. There's something in't. What's your reply?
197
I'm for it; but without the tooth and eye.
Mephistopheles.
In keeping those, you're keeping back the best.
How can I make a picture of the rest?
Phorcyads.
Nothing more easy. It is but to draw
An eye down, and projecting from the jaw
Let glare a front tooth. The profile will strike
As one in every way extremely like.
Mephistopheles.
Thanks; so be it.
Phorcyads.
And be it so.
Mephistopheles
(as a Phorcyad in profile).
'Tis done!
Look I not Chaos' well-beloved son?
Phorcyads.
Daughter! We're Daughters, undeniably.
Mephistopheles.
Daughter or Son—all now will laugh at me.
198
New Triad this! What beauty! We in truth
Are gainers. An eye more—another tooth!
Mephistopheles.
I must go hide myself from every eye
In very hell—the devils to terrify.
[Exit.
199
Sirens, Nereids and Tritons.
Sirens
(Lying on the cliffs around, piping and singing).
In the old time, while Night shuddering heard their daring rites malign,
Thee Thessalian sorceresses tore from that calm throne of thine.
We, with no unholy magic would disturb thy rest divine.
Thee Thessalian sorceresses tore from that calm throne of thine.
We, with no unholy magic would disturb thy rest divine.
Rest thee pure in thine own heaven, and from the bow of thine own night
Look upon the glimmering waters, how they heave and roll in light.
Oh! gleam softly on the pageant that ascends in noiseless motion,
Through the phantom stars up-thronging, to the surface of the ocean.
Lovely Luna, oh! smile on us—on thy worshippers' devotion.
Look upon the glimmering waters, how they heave and roll in light.
Oh! gleam softly on the pageant that ascends in noiseless motion,
Through the phantom stars up-thronging, to the surface of the ocean.
Lovely Luna, oh! smile on us—on thy worshippers' devotion.
Nereids and Tritons.
Sing aloud, in tones more thrilling!
Sounds that, through the deep sea shrilling,
200
We had sunk to lone recesses,
Under gulfs by tempest shaken—
Caves in Ocean's wildernesses!
From the low depths far away
Now uprise we, and obey
And follow the alluring lay!
We to deck ourselves delight.
See these golden bracelets bright;
Crown, and clasp, and precious stone;
Chain, and brooch, and jewelled zone!
Treasures—the rich spoils that were
Of the shipwrecked mariner
On your fierce rocks flung away—
Your sweet songs have charmed them hither;
You! the demons of our bay.
Sirens.
We know, that in the moist sea-waves,
We know, that in the cool sea-caves
Calm live the people of the sea.
A happy, peaceful dream is theirs
Of gliding life. No griefs—no cares.
And such your life, and such are ye.
But, on this day of Festival,
Delight it were to us—to all—
To see you in the glorious hour
Wake into life of higher power.
201
Ere your song had hither brought us,
We had long ago bethought us
Of all this: and sisters, brothers,
In a moment off fleet we
To return, as proud as others
Of the ocean-family;
Sea-shapes though we be, our claim
Is, as you full soon shall see,
To a higher rank and name.
'Tis but over some small space
Of the moonlight sea to race.
We shall show you what we be.
[Exeunt.
Sirens.
They are off to Samothrace,
With a favouring wind; but what can they find
In the realms of the Cabiri?
Gods that baffle all enquiry?
Gods, that high up on the shelves
Of the rough rocks plant themselves.
We can make nothing of their constitution—
Unconscious, self-involved self-evolution.
With a favouring wind; but what can they find
In the realms of the Cabiri?
Gods that baffle all enquiry?
Gods, that high up on the shelves
Of the rough rocks plant themselves.
We can make nothing of their constitution—
Unconscious, self-involved self-evolution.
Oh, move not from thy height,
Fair Luna! The soft rays
Shed round us of thy haze,
And far away be Day's
Intrusive world of light.
Fair Luna! The soft rays
Shed round us of thy haze,
And far away be Day's
Intrusive world of light.
202
Thales
(to Homunculus).
I'd take you now to Nereus. His cave's here;
But he's a queer old fellow—an austere
Odd-tempered being—sour and obstinate.
Man above everything he seems to hate—
The human race—he grumbles with such spite
Against us—men with him are never right.
Yet, as the future's present to his view;
And he, at times, has done good to some few,
He's in his way respected.
Homunculus.
At his gate
Let's knock, and test the cross old surly pate.
By what you say of him, there's no great fear
We spill our flame or crack the glass-case here.
Nereus.
Men's voices here? It makes me savage when
I think of the absurdities of men.
Formations, that, 'gainst Nature's laws, would fain
Stretch themselves into gods—but all in vain,
—Doomed in their own damned likeness to remain!
Were it not for my zeal to serve mankind,
I might, in blissful quiet, have reclined
God-like among the gods for ages past;
And what good does there come of it at last?
203
Not said a word about them, good or bad.
Thales.
Yet, Ancient of the Sea, with reverence
All look upon thee. Do not drive us hence.
The Flamelet here—shaped like a man, no doubt—
Oh! look on him, who, wandering long about,
Seeks thy advice, which he will, out and out,
Follow.
Nereus.
Advice! what good is it? Men hear
Advice, and then it freezes in the ear.
Though lessoned by the fierce fact o'er and o'er,
Yet men are ever self-willed as before.
Ere for another's wife his snares he wove
Warned I not Paris with a father's love?
As on the Grecian shore the bold youth stood
I told him all that I in spirit viewed:
The thick and stifling smoke, the fire's red breath—
Roof-trees in flames—beneath them murder, death—
The doom of Troy, that for a thousand years
In the recording song hath waked men's fears.
He mocked the prophet, scorned the oracle,
Followed his own wild will and Ilion fell—
A stark, cold, giant corpse. Its pangs had ceased,
And Pindus' eagles welcomed their rich feast.
204
Of Circe's wiles and savage Polypheme:
His own delays, the rashness of his train.
Forewarned of all—of all forewarned in vain:
Till, waves relenting, many a peril past,
The wanderer found a friendly shore at last.
Thales.
This to the Wise, this cannot but give pain.
The Good even, tho' it may be all in vain,
Seeks to do good again and yet again.
Whole hundreds of ingratitude are less
In his eyes than one grain of thankfulness.
This is no common case, and your assistance
May serve us. What this spark wants is Existence.
He would enter upon Life. This asks a nice
Discretion, and we come for your advice.
Nereus.
Hush! Break not in on this delicious trance
Of rare delight! Far other care employs
My spirit now than of man's cares or joys.
It is no hour for you to trouble me.
To-night is held a solemn festival,
Where I have hope to meet my daughters all—
The Dorides—the Graces of the sea.
Olympus boasts not, nor Achaia bears
Thro' all her lands, Forms lovelier than theirs,
205
Theirs is the perfect harmony of motion,
As from the Dragons of the wave they spring
To the fleet Coursers of the Ocean King.
While flashing in the moonlight billow's play,
Inseparable from the wave seem they.
One with the element that is their home,
You see them rising with the rising foam.
In coloured play of Venus' pearly car
Comes Galatea, of all now that are,
The loveliest and most beautiful by far;
Who, since on Cyprus Venus ceased to smile,
Is worshipped as the Goddess of the isle,
For ages now inherits as her own
The Temple-city and the Chariot-throne.
Away! and in a holy hour like this,
Oh, break not in upon a father's bliss.
No thought of anger now should stir his heart—
No word of censure from his lips should part.
Away to Proteus! Question the Magician
As to the spark's proposed change of condition.
You thus may learn what transformations he
Must pass through to be anything—to Be.
[Exit, going towards the sea.
Thales
(to Homunculus).
We've not gained much by this step, I should say.
Catch Proteus! Catch him, and he melts away.
206
To create wonder and bewilderment.
Still you want counsel and advice. He can
Give it. We'll test him. Come on, little man.
[Exeunt.
Moonlight Bay. Sirens, Nereids, and Tritons.
Sirens
(on the rocks above).
What far-off gleam moves o'er the enchanted seas,
As though white sails flowed hither with the breeze,
Lustrous with light? Oh, what a change! Are these
The same wild women of the wave—these, the Nereidés?
Let's chamber down the rocks—perhaps to hear
Their words—at least to look at them more near.
Nereids and Tritons.
In our hands we bring a treasure
That must come to all with pleasure.
See! reflected from the field
Of Chelone's giant shield
Forms of stalwart strength forth spring:
They are gods! and them we bring
With us. Sing, in triumph sing!
207
Tiny! if you mark their size:
Mighty! if their power you prize.
They in hours of shipwreck save
The sinking sailor from the wave.
Gods! that, in the ancient days,
Worshipped were with prayer and praise.
Nereids and Tritons.
The Cabiri we bring hither,
That the feast may peaceful be.
Where the Holy Ones are present
Friendly is the God of Sea.
That the feast may peaceful be.
Where the Holy Ones are present
Friendly is the God of Sea.
We must yield to you, Cabiri!
When a vessel splits in two,
Then come ye, in power resistless,
Saviours of the sinking crew.
When a vessel splits in two,
Then come ye, in power resistless,
Saviours of the sinking crew.
Nereids and Tritons.
Three of them with us we brought,
On the Fourth in vain we call;
He resisted: said he ought,
As the Governor of all,
For the common weal take thought.
Sirens.
Gods 'gainst gods, with scoff and sneer,
Bickering, clash with joke and jeer,
208
With All peacefully to live.
All, that can do good, revere.
Them, that can do mischief, fear.
Nereids and Tritons.
There should be Seven of them, sisters and brothers.
Sirens.
There are but Four here. Where are the Three others?
Nereids and Tritons.
Can't say. Ask for them at Olympus: there
They say an Eighth is. Whence he comes, and where
He hath his being, no one yet has stated.
They gladly would have been here, but they waited—
'Twould take some little time—to be created.
They say an Eighth is. Whence he comes, and where
He hath his being, no one yet has stated.
They gladly would have been here, but they waited—
'Twould take some little time—to be created.
No making anything of them. Out of the way
Strange creatures.
Strange creatures.
Aboriginal gods are they.
Intuitions; High Volitions;
Longings Unrelievable;
Sentimental Pangs of Hunger
For the Inconceivable.
Intuitions; High Volitions;
Longings Unrelievable;
Sentimental Pangs of Hunger
For the Inconceivable.
Sirens.
Wherever hath been given
A throne of power in heaven—
209
It is, we worship there—
With all of every creed
We pray. It hath its meed.
Nereids and Tritons.
Oh! what glory ours must be,
Leading this festivity.
Sirens.
The Heroes of the ancient days,
Who from this hour forth shall praise?
If, to Greece, the Golden Fleece
They, in happy triumph, brought—
You a greater feat have wrought:
Bringing o'er the joyous main
The Cabiri in your train.
Universal Chorus.
If, to Greece, the Golden Fleece
They, in happy triumph, brought—
You a greater feat have wrought:
Bringing o'er the joyous main
The Cabiri in your train.
[Nereids and Tritons pass on.
210
Homunculus.
The stupid things are very like old crocks,
'Gainst which, all covered o'er with grime and dust,
The Antiquarians' hard heads get hard knocks.
Thales.
Well, this is what they wish: the medal must
Be, to bear any price, all over rust.
Proteus
(invisible).
Here the old Fabulist can feed his love
Of wonders with sights well worth thinking of—
Odd, but as idols better to revere.
Thales.
Where art thou, Proteus?
Proteus
(from different places).
Here I am! Here! Here!
Thales
(to Homunculus).
The old buffoon is now at his provoking
Play of cross purposes. Let's have an end
Of this. 'Tis out of place and time this joking—
These tricks on an old traveller. Come, friend!
I know your voice, and how it sounds at distance
When you are at my elbow.
211
(as at a distance).
Fare thee well!
Thales
(aside to Homunculus).
Now flash your light out! Now, with its assistance,
We'll catch him. He's as curious as a fish,
And lured by light, in whatsoever shape:
If you but flash out strong he can't escape.
Homunculus.
I'll flash my light out strongly; but must take
Precaution that the glass-case do not break.
Proteus
(in the form of a giant tortoise).
What's that shines out with charm so exquisite?
Thales
(veiling Homunculus).
If you would see, you must come nearer it.
Grudge not the trouble. Come, I do entreat!
Come, be a man! Come, on a man's two feet.
You want to see a something we have got,
Which we at will may show you, or may not.
We dictate terms.
Proteus
(in a noble form).
Yours still are sophist's tricks.
Thales.
You still change shapes and on none certain fix.
[Unveils Homunculus.
212
(exhibiting astonishment).
A glittering dwarf! A show well worth the seeing:
Never knew creature like it was in being.
Thales.
He wants your counsel—has come a long distance
His object is to get into existence.
He is, by what he told me of his birth,
Miraculously come but half to earth:
A lively spark—has every mental quality;
But, luckless fellow, 'twas his strange fatality,
An active, naked spirit, all alone—
Without a shred of body, blood or bone,
Into the world to be at hazard thrown—
His glass is all he has to steady him:
He wants and wishes body, life, and limb.
Proteus.
True love-child this! a boy that would, I wis,
Make his appearance ere his mother is
Disposed to welcome him.
Thales
(whispering).
Boy? Is't so?
If boy or girl, we really cannot know
Till he puts on life.
Proteus.
Well! let time settle that!
We cannot tell what Fortune's driving at.
213
Is Life. There, there must the first process be.
There in the little all begin—then seize
The less, and so grow larger by degrees:
Shift to new forms of being—every past
Foretels a future—the more perfect last!
Homunculus.
The breeze brings fragrance with it; and the flow
Of glad green billows, too! I love it so!
Proteus.
No doubt you do; but further on 'twill be
Still pleasanter. And just here, where the land
Ends in a narrow tongue of sparkling strand,
What a delicious breathing from the sea!
Move onward, where the sky seems yet more clear,
And see the gay procession floating near.
Come with me! Come.
Thales.
And me—you must take me.
Homunculus.
A memorable move of Spirits three.
214
Telchines of Rhodes
(holding Neptune's trident).
The Trident, with which the vexed billows' commotion
He calms, we have forged for the Monarch of Ocean.
O'er the heavens if his thick clouds the Thunderer spread,
Poseidon replies to the roll overhead.
To the flare of forked lightnings above will the spray
Of billows below flash terrific as they;
And the wreck, by the wild wind in agony tossed,
Whirling round in the sea-gulfs is swallowed and lost.
He calms, we have forged for the Monarch of Ocean.
O'er the heavens if his thick clouds the Thunderer spread,
Poseidon replies to the roll overhead.
To the flare of forked lightnings above will the spray
Of billows below flash terrific as they;
And the wreck, by the wild wind in agony tossed,
Whirling round in the sea-gulfs is swallowed and lost.
The Sea-god, propitious this festival night,
To us hath entrusted his sceptre of might,
That our path on the waves may be peaceful and bright.
To us hath entrusted his sceptre of might,
That our path on the waves may be peaceful and bright.
Sirens.
Hail ye, each and every one,
Dedicated to the Sun!
215
Sacred to his sister's power.
Priests are ye of Helios bright:
This is Luna's festal night.
Telchines.
Queen of the bow, whose delight in the skies
Are the songs from the earth to thy brother that rise.
To Rhodes, the glad island, an ear dost thou lend,
Where pæans for ever like incense ascend.
How brightly at morning smiles on us the sun—
How brightly at eve, when his day-course is run.
Mountains and cities—shore, waters—all here
In his eyes are well pleasing—are cloudless and clear.
If a wreath of thin vapour the blue heaven obscure:
A beam and a breeze and the island is pure.
Here a hundred bright forms of himself meet his sight—
Now Giant, now Stripling—all Mildness, all Might
Here, in this glorious land, Sculpture began—
Gods and the god-like to image in Man.
Proteus.
Let them sing and shout away.
These dead works! Oh! what are they
To the beams of the bright sun—
To the living ray?
They shape, they melt, reshape the mass,
And deem a something done.
What is at last the fate
Of these proud gods of brass?
Grand stood the image-gods and great:
An earthquake shook them from their state.
Melted again, again into new moulds they pass.
These dead works! Oh! what are they
To the beams of the bright sun—
To the living ray?
216
And deem a something done.
What is at last the fate
Of these proud gods of brass?
Grand stood the image-gods and great:
An earthquake shook them from their state.
Melted again, again into new moulds they pass.
Earth's movements, whatsoe'er they be,
Obstruction are and drudgery.
Life and the living waves agree.
To the waters come with me!
To the Everlasting Sea!
Proteus-Dolphin carries thee (changes himself)
.
'Tis done, 'tis done. The triumph's won:
Thy crowning destiny!
On my back I carry thee!
To the Ocean marry thee!
Obstruction are and drudgery.
Life and the living waves agree.
To the waters come with me!
To the Everlasting Sea!
Proteus-Dolphin carries thee (changes himself)
.
'Tis done, 'tis done. The triumph's won:
Thy crowning destiny!
On my back I carry thee!
To the Ocean marry thee!
Thales.
Go! Sure way the goal of winning
Is, ‘begin with the beginning,’
With him to the waters thou,
Active life awaits thee now.
On from forms to new forms ranging,
Still obeying laws unchanging,
Till at last you're landed at
Man. 'Twill take some time to that.
217
Proteus.
In the Spirit come! In Ocean
Sport thee—in the free wave wide.
Thine own joy to every motion
Still the impulse, still the guide!
Happy, while in unforeseeing,
Unreflecting germs alive;
But to higher states of being
In thy yearnings never strive.
As to Man—once there, you're done up—
The game's over—all the fun up.
Thales.
That's as may happen. Is it nothing, then,
To be a man distinguished 'mong the men
Of one's own time?
Proteus
(to Thales).
One of your stamp and style
May no doubt be remembered some short while.
'Mong the pale crowds of Spirits yours appears
One noticeable for a thousand years.
218
Sirens
(on the rocks).
What a lovely ring of cloudlets
Round the moon, in halo bright!
Doves, whom burning love enkindles—
Radiant dove-wings pure as light—
Birds, that Love enflames—'tis Paphos
Sends them on this festal night.
Now the Auguries are perfect.
Think we now but of delight!
Nereus
(stepping to Thales).
Gazing on the cloudlets fair,
A wanderer by night
Might easily believe they were
Meteors that mocked the sight—
Illusions of the air;
But We—that Spirits are—but we,
That in the spirit all things see,
We know well that such conclusion
Would indeed be a delusion.
Cytherea's Doves they are
219
Follow now my daughter's car.
In the old day it was thus.
Thales.
To the view that you suggest
I would yield with no misgiving,
If, within the calm warm nest,
Something holy still were living,
And had there its place of rest.
Pselli and Marsi
(on sea-bulls, sea-calves, and rams).
In the rocky caves of Cyprus—
Never by the god of Ocean
Shaken, never by the dread
Spasms of Seismos visited—
We, as in the days of old,
In calm of heart—in joy that hath no voice
To speak its conscious rapture—we rejoice
To guard the Car of Cypris. Our delight
Is, in the murmuring hours of the soft night,
O'er lustrous billows, tremulously heaving,
In whispers low their lovely network weaving,
The pearly Chariot from its secret grot
To bear in triumph over the glad water;
And, all unseen of men who know her not,
Still worship Beauty in her loveliest daughter.
We, our gentle task pursuing,
Care not what the world is doing.
Let the Eagle's plumeless pinion,
Or Winged Lion, claim dominion:
Be it Cross, or be it Crescent,
With alternate victory.
For their battle-field incessant,
Tears and triumphs, what care we?
Never by the god of Ocean
Shaken, never by the dread
Spasms of Seismos visited—
We, as in the days of old,
In calm of heart—in joy that hath no voice
To speak its conscious rapture—we rejoice
To guard the Car of Cypris. Our delight
Is, in the murmuring hours of the soft night,
O'er lustrous billows, tremulously heaving,
In whispers low their lovely network weaving,
The pearly Chariot from its secret grot
To bear in triumph over the glad water;
And, all unseen of men who know her not,
Still worship Beauty in her loveliest daughter.
220
Care not what the world is doing.
Let the Eagle's plumeless pinion,
Or Winged Lion, claim dominion:
Be it Cross, or be it Crescent,
With alternate victory.
For their battle-field incessant,
Tears and triumphs, what care we?
While they do their work of ruin
Devastating, without pity,
Harvest-field, and storming city,
We, our gentle task pursuing,
On her moonlight path serene
With us bring our lovely queen.
Devastating, without pity,
Harvest-field, and storming city,
We, our gentle task pursuing,
On her moonlight path serene
With us bring our lovely queen.
Sirens.
Gently move, with measured speed,
Round the chariot, ring in ring:
Then flow on, a twofold line,
Side by side, and intertwine
In your windings serpentine!
Round the chariot, ring in ring:
Then flow on, a twofold line,
Side by side, and intertwine
In your windings serpentine!
Nereidés, come ye!
Wild women of the sea,
Built in robustest mould,
Free, vigorous, and bold,
With joyous gambolling.
Tumultuous jubilee
Of Nature's savage glee!
Come, gentle Dorides!
Of forms more delicate,
Whom joy doth not elate,
To Galatea bring
In every sister face
Features, in which we trace
The Mother of the race—
A more than earthly, more than heavenly grace.
The god-like earnestness of mien—flower of immortal birth—
The winningness, the smile serene, of daughters of the earth.
Wild women of the sea,
Built in robustest mould,
Free, vigorous, and bold,
With joyous gambolling.
Tumultuous jubilee
Of Nature's savage glee!
221
Of forms more delicate,
Whom joy doth not elate,
To Galatea bring
In every sister face
Features, in which we trace
The Mother of the race—
A more than earthly, more than heavenly grace.
The god-like earnestness of mien—flower of immortal birth—
The winningness, the smile serene, of daughters of the earth.
Dorides
(passing Nereus, on dolphins).
Lend us, Luna, light and shadows! Let thy tender radiance all
—We, the while, in shade half-hidden—on these human blossoms fall.
They are ours! to our fond father we would show each chosen youth.
(To Nereus.)
They are ours, whom we have rescued from the tempest's savage tooth.
Them on moss and softest seaweed, warming to new life, we laid.
Warmed to life, with burning kisses they our tender cares repaid.
222
Look on them with love and pity!
Nereus.
A twofold gain you find in this employment—
Compassion for distress, and self-enjoyment.
Dorides.
Father! if we find favour in thy sight—
If thou dost sympathise in our delight—
Oh! to these dear ones give
For ever thus to live:
Young heart to heart replying
Love endless, love undying!
Nereus.
You've caught them—keep them. Aye! hold while you can
Your glittering prey, and mould the youths to man.
But as to Immortality—
Zeus has the gift of it—not I.
The waves, you rock on, still must move:
Their restlessness knows nothing of
This fancy of abiding love.
Let the dream play its moment and
Forget it; and with gentle hand
Lay the youths tenderly on land.
223
Dearest youths! we love you well.
You and we, alas! must sever.
Oh! that love could last for ever!
But the gods the prayer repel!
The Youths.
Love us, love us still! More pleasant
Fortune never can befall
Sailor-lads, to whom the Present,
Evermore is all in all.
[Galatea is now seen approaching on her Car of shell.
Nereus.
'Tis thou, my love.
Galatea.
What rapture! father, dear!
Linger, ye dolphins! the glance holds me here.
[The Car moves on rapidly.
Nereus.
Already! what so far away already?
Onward and onward wheeling by, in swift and sparkling eddy?
For the Heart's inner beatings, what care they?
Oh! had they ta'en me with them! Yet the sight,
A moment's lustre as it speeds away,
Will make the whole year bright.
224
(exultingly and with solemnity).
Hail! hail! again all hail! Life blooms anew.
My spirit is pierced through
By the Beautiful, the True.
In Water all hath had its primal source;
And Water still keeps all things in their course.
Ocean, still round us let thy billows proud
Roll in their strength—still send up mist and cloud.
If the rich rivers thou didst cease to spread—
If floods no more were from thy bounty fed—
And the thin brooklet died in its dry bed—
Where then were mountains—valleys? Where would be
The world itself? Oh! thou dost still, great Sea,
Sustain alone the fresh life of all things.
Echo
(chorus of the collective circles).
From Thee! from Thee! that fresh life still outsprings.
Nereus.
Rocked on the waves, the gay procession bends
Circle in circle—chain in chain extends.
Such is the ordered festival. No chance
Again of greeting smile, or glance encountering glance.
Back winds the innumerable company;
But Galatea's shell-throne still I see,
225
The Loved, 'mong thousands, still is seen afar—
And seen, however far, shines bright and clear:
Is no illusion—still is true—is near.
Homunculus.
In the calm moisture all on which my light
Cast its strong beam is exquisitely fair.
Proteus.
Life's moisture 'tis that makes the lamplet bright,
And 'twill chime proudly in Life's ambient air.
Nereus.
What are we next to see? A something shines
Far, far away among the seaward lines:
Round Galatea's feet Flames pant and play—
Now in strong blaze, now languishing away—
As if the throbbings were the throbbings of
The wildly agitated pulse of Love.
Thales.
It is Homunculus. It must be he.
Proteus, no doubt, has tempted him to sea.
This comes of his ambition; and the end
I venture—'tis no hard task—to portend:
Already do I hear his anguished moan—
He'll dash himself against the sparkling throne.
Aye—as I said—there goes he—spilled about—
Flame flashing thick and fast—all gushing out!
226
What fiery wonder spreading o'er the sea
Clothes it with such surpassing brilliancy?
Billows on billows dash with lightning flash.
Bodies, that through the ocean move to-night,
Move ringed with fire, and in a path of light.
Everywhere fire! Hail, Eros! hail! With thee
The world began: oh! still its ruler be!
Clothes it with such surpassing brilliancy?
Billows on billows dash with lightning flash.
Bodies, that through the ocean move to-night,
Move ringed with fire, and in a path of light.
Everywhere fire! Hail, Eros! hail! With thee
The world began: oh! still its ruler be!
Hail! O Sea! All hail, ye bright
Billows fringed with holy light!
Fire, all hail! Hail, Ocean range!
Hail! all hail! Adventure strange!
Billows fringed with holy light!
Fire, all hail! Hail, Ocean range!
Hail! all hail! Adventure strange!
All.
Air, with all thy breezy waves,
Hail! Hail, Earth's mysterious caves!
Honour now and evermore
To the Elemental Four.
| Faustus : The Second Part | |