University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

Open Country.
Wanderer. Baucis. Philemon.
Wanderer.
Yes! 'tis their dusk grove of linden,
Strong in undecaying age;
And shall I again behold them,
After years of pilgrimage?
Still the same old place—see yonder!
See the hut that sheltered me,
When upon these downs the billows
Flung me from the stormy sea!
Oh! that I once more could greet them—
My old hosts—even then they were
Old. And can I hope to meet them?
Earnest, active, kindly pair!
Oh! but they were kindly people!
Shall I knock? or with my voice
Question gently? Do my old friends
Still in doing good rejoice?

Baucis
(a very old woman).
Softly! softly! gentle stranger,
To his rest the old man leave;
Strength for their short hours of waking
Still from sleep the old receive.

Wanderer.

[Moves rapidly over the downs.
Philemon
(to Baucis).
Hasten now to spread the table
'Mong the garden's cheerful trees;
Let him run, and, struck with wonder,
Start back, doubting all he sees.

[Follows him.
Philemon
(to the Wanderer).

(The three at table in the garden.)
Baucis
(to Wanderer).
Are you dumb?—and not a morsel
To your famished lips you move!

Philemon.
He may wish to hear of wonders,
And to tell of such you love.

Baucis.
Wonders! Prodigies of Magic!
What was done still troubles me.
It was nothing good, I warrant—
Nothing such as ought to be.

Philemon.
Would the Kaiser, were it evil,
Then, have granted him the shore?
Heard we not the trumpet tell it
As the herald past our door?
Near this very door was planted
The first foot; then tents were seen;
Cottages; and now a palace
Rises with its verdant screen.

Baucis.
All in vain men slaved by daylight—
Axe and shovel—blows on blows.
'Twas at night where the red flamelets
Swarmed, at dawn the dam arose.
There, no doubt, bled human victims;
Shrieks of pain through night we heard;
And, where waves of fire flowed seaward,
A canal at dawn appeared.
'Tis a godless man! he covets
This our little cot, our wood.
Neighbour call you him? Subjection
Comes with such man's neighbourhood.

Philemon.
Yet he makes us ample offer—
Homestead fair in the new land!

Baucis.
Trust not land that late was water;
On the high ground keep thy stand.

Philemon.
Move we onward to the chapel,
The last sunbeams to behold;
Kneel, and with the bell make music—
God our refuge, as of old.

[Exeunt.
Extensive pleasure-garden; large strait canal. Faustus, in extreme old age, walking about, meditating.
Lynceus
(the warder of the tower, through a speaking trumpet).
Sunset! In its pleasant glimmer,
The last vessels seek the bay.
Hither, see! a stately wherry
Up the long canal makes way.
Now the gay bark's coloured streamers,
Now the joyous masts appear.
Thee the mariner wave-wearied
Blesses, glad to rest him here.

[The little bell sounds on the downs.
Faustus
(starts).
Damn'd ringing! vile mean tinklings!—like
A treacherous arrow's stings they strike.
Before me, far and wide, extend
My fair dominions without end;
Behind me jars this envious thing's
Vile babble, evermore that rings
Its dissonance into my ear.
Are my lands mine? or can I feel
Them mine, when that distracting peal
Is everlastingly heard here?
The linden field, the cottage brown,
The old church mossed and mouldering down,
They are not mine; and should I there
Wish to enjoy myself, the air
Oppresses me, my heart grows chill
In the strange shadows on that hill:
Thorns to my eyes, thorns to my feet are they—
Torture! Oh! would that I were far away.

Lynceus
(from above).
How joyously, in the fresh evening gales,
Up the canal the gay bark hither sails!
How rapidly it nears us, with its store
Of huge chests, bags, and boxes crowded o'er!

[A beautiful bark, richly laden with the produce of foreign climes, now appears; Mephistopheles and his ‘Three’ disembark.
Chorus
(to Faustus).
We're at home: we are on land;
'Twas a prosperous sail.
Hail to thee, Master!
Patron! all hail!

[The goods are landed.
Mephistopheles.
We have done not badly here,
Happy if our patron praise!
Vessels Twenty now have we;
With but Two we went to sea.
See! what booty, see! what gear
Our full-laden bark displays.
The free sea makes the spirit free.
Of right or wrong but little care,
Nor much of ceremony there.
'Tis ready eye and rapid grip;
'Tis seeing, snapping, fish or ship.
And thus a Third ship to our Two
We added, and a Fourth pursue.
Ill fares the Fifth that looms in sight;
'Tis ours as sure as Might makes Right.
The What, and not the How, for me.
—I think I ought to know the sea.
War, and Trade, and Piracy,
One in Spirit are all Three!

The ‘Three.’
No thanks, nor greeting,
Nor word, nor smile!
As if what we brought
Were worthless and vile.
With a scowl of dislike,
With disgust and displeasure,
He has turned him away,
As despising the treasure.

Mephistopheles.
Off with you—You are páid—You've had your due—
—Retained it—There is nothing now for you.

The ‘Three.’
What we kept of it
Was our perquisite.
I'd have you to know we have all done our duty,
And our right is an equal share of the booty.

[The lading is removed.
Mephistopheles.
First the costly spoils together
Place in order, row on row,
Store on store; and when to-morrow
He beholds the splendid show,
He will look at all with calmness,
And reward you as is meet—
With free hand his lavish bounty
Feast on feast will give the fleet.
The gay birds come with morning's light;
I'll see to it, that all goes right.

The lading is stored. Exeunt The ‘Three.’
Mephistopheles
(to Faustus).
With clouded looks and heavy brow,
What Fortune sends, regardest thou.
Think on the victories that crown
Thy wisdom, sea and land made one.
Welcoming, the Sea receives
The bark, that with gay flag unfurled
The happy Shore exulting leaves.
Here, Lord of Earth, from this thy throne,
Here, from thy palace, rule the world,
Land—sea—and all that is—thine own!
'Twas Here the works began. Here stood
The first poor shed of rough-hewn wood.
Hére, where plashes now the oar,
Their lines through clay the delvers tore.
Hére did thy science, and the hands
Obeying still thy high commands,
Join land and sea. Hére—

Faustus.

Mephistopheles.
Of course!—There never was a moment yet,
That something did not come to make you fret.—
Here I must own, your anger's just.
There's not a noble ear but must
Hear this ding-dong with deep disgust.
The dismal boom with vapour-clouds
The cheerful sky of evening shrouds;
From birth-day bath to burial time
For ever sounds the dreary chime,
Till it makes Mán's life almost seem
'Twixt peal and peal a ding-dong dream.

Faustus.
How is it that they hold out still?
—What obstinacy of self-will!
All from the sea that I have won
Is spoiled—undone all I have done.
—Torture! How is a man to deal
With such folk, who can neither feel
Their own nor others' good? One must
At last grow tired of being just!

Mephistopheles.
I see no difficulty in the case.
—Are you not bound to colonise the place?

Faustus.
Just on the boúnds of my own gróunds, there is a little cot
I've chosen thére, for the old páir. Go! place them in that spot.

Mephistopheles
(humming half to himself.)
[Whistles shrilly. Enter The ‘Three.’

The ‘Three.’
The old master's! He with scorn and slight
Has treated us—the feast's our right.

Mephistopheles
(to the audience).
What long ago was done, is done here too.
The tale of Naboth's vineyard is not new.

Deep Night.
Lynceus
(the Warder, on his tower singing).
At birth was I gifted
With quick powers of seeing,
And Nature and Fortune
For once are agreeing.
On the height of his watch-tower,
The warder's employment,
While he glances around,
Is but change of enjoyment.
I gaze on the distant,
I look on the near,
On the moon and the bright stars,
The wood and the deer.
All that I look on
Is lovely to see;
I am happy, and all things
Seem happy to me.
Glad eyes look around ye,
On earth or in air,
Gaze where ye will,
For still all things are fair!
[Pause.
Other scenes than of delight
Reach the warder on his height.
Ha! what clouds of horror breathe
From the world of gloom beneath!
Spark on spark upshoots in spray
Through the lindens' double night.
—How the strong glow rends his way,
Swelling, panting with the breeze,
Bristling into fiercer light!
Ha! the cottage in the trees,
Where the heavy moss had grown
Over moist and mouldering stone,
Blazes! Oh that help were near!
—Hand to rescue, none is here!
Alas! the kindly good old pair
Who, some years since, watched with such care
Night after night their beacon-fire,
—Thus to perish! Higher, higher,
'Mid stifling smoke-clouds flames the flame.
In dusk-red light, thro' the black night,
Stands out distinct the mossy frame.
—Oh, that shelter could be found them
From the wild hell raging round them!—
Tongues of light flash up between
The leaves, and through the branchy sprays;
Dry flickering boughs have caught the blaze,
And burning fierce and fast fall in.
Miserý such sight to see!
Why hath this power of vision been
Bestowed, alas! on me?
The little lowly chapel roof
Is breaking down: it is not proof
Against the crush and weight of all
The burning boughs that on it fall.
Sérpenting, the shárp flames seize
The upper twigs of the old trees;
Down, the hollow stems are purpled
To the roots in turbid glow.
[Long pause. Song.
What the eye so loved is vanished
With the years of long ago.

Faustus
(on the balcony toward the downs).
What a strange whimpering plaint from the watch-tower!
The word is here, and the lament, too late.
My warder wails it; would 'twere in my power
To make undone the deed precipitate!
Of the old lindens scarce some half-burned stem
Remains. 'Tis well that we are rid of them.
Aye! that's the very spot on which to place
A terrace to look out on boundless space;
To see among the happy dwellings there
The new home of that stubborn strange old pair.
They soon will learn to thank me and to praise
For all life's blessings in life's closing days—
Feel how much I have served them, and the sight
Of their contentment will give me delight.

Mephistopheles and the ‘Three’ (below).
Mephistopheles.
We're here, full trot. I wish things had
Gone better;—not that they are bad.
We knocked, we kicked; but not a bit
Of the old folk would open it.
We kicked and shook it all the more;
And down came the old rotten door.
We called aloud with curse and threat;
But not an answer could we get.
They did not hear us—would not hear—
Met our demand with a deaf ear.
This is, you know, the common trick:
So on we went—knock, push, and kick.
We were your agents, and, no doubt,
Must do the work we came about.
We had no loitering, no debate;
We've done your work—cleared your estate.
The poor old couple sank outright;
Suffered no pain—they died of fright.
A stranger, who was for the night,
By some chance, sleeping there, showed fight—
Would not keep quiet, though ill-matched
With our force. Him we soon dispatched.
In the confusion of the fray
The straw caught fire—some cinders lay
Scattered about. 'Tis blazing free;
The funeral death-pile of the three.

Faustus.
Distraction! Would that you had been
Deaf to my words, or not deaf to their sense!
Peaceful exchange I wished, not violence.
Your act was plunder, merciless, and worse—
Murder. I curse it. You and it I curse.

Chorus.
The old saying rings loud in my ear at this hour:
‘Strive, heart and hand, in the service of Power,
‘Strive to the utmost, and risk in the strife
‘Life, Honour, and Wealth, you lose Honour, Wealth, Life!’

Midnight.
(Faustus on the Balcony, looking towards the burning cottage.)
Faustus.
The fading stars their glance and glow
Hide. The fire sinks and flickers low;
And, fanning it, a breeze blows cold,
And smoke and mist toward me are rolled.
Rash word! rash deed! What can it be
Sweeps hither—spectral, shadowy?

[Enter Four Gray Women.
First.
I am Want .

Second.
And I'm
By men called Guilt—Debt—Crime .

Third.
And I am Care .

Fourth.
And men call me
Misery,
Distress , and Dire Necessity .

Three of them.
The door is barred and bolted hard,
And we have no way to enter in.
'Tis a rich man's home to which we have come,
And we have no wish to enter in.

First.
I fade into shadow.

Second.
I cease to be.

Fourth.
The spoiled child of Fortune will turn from me,
Displeased at the presence of Misery .

Care.
—Will see not what he has no wish to see.

First.
Sisters—gray sisters—away let us glide.

Second.
Away and away! I am still at thy side.

Fourth.
And I at thy heels follow fast as a breath
Of the wandering vapour.

Three.
The clouds are thickening, the stars are sickening.
From beneath—fast and fast—from afar—from afar—
From below—from below—to the place where we are—
Comes another—our brother.
See ye him? feel ye him? know ye him?— Death .

Faustus.

Care.
The question is its own reply.

Faustus.
A voice! Whom hear I speaking?

Care.
It is I

Faustus.
Away with thee!

Care.
I'm where I have good right
To be.

Faustus
(to himself—first angry, then recovering).
Take heed, and speak no spell to-night.

Care.
Heard not by the outward ear,
In the heart I am a Fear,
And from me is no escape.
Every hour I change my shape,
Roam the highway, ride the billow,
Hover round the anxious pillow.
Ever found, and never sought,
Flattered, cursed. Oh! know you not
Care? Know you not Anxiety?

Faustus.
I've but run through the world; and all, that pleased
Or promised pleasure, eagerly have seized:
What fled I thought no more of, nor pursued
Even with a wish the evanescent good:
Desired, and had, and new desires then formed,
And thus through life impetuously stormed,
In Power and Greatness first 'twas mine to live;
And now, in Wisdom's walks contemplative.
Of Earth I know enough. To aught beside
Of other worlds all access is denied.
Madness! to search beyond with prying eyes,
And feign or fancy brethren in the skies.
Let Man look round him Here! Here plant his foot!
The world is to the Active never mute.
We know but what we grasp. What need have we
Of thoughts that wander through eternity?
Your demons of above, and of below,
At their free pleasure let them come and go.
Of goblins' freaks the wise nor knows nor cares,
But says: ‘I go my own way, and they theirs.’
And thus, come good, come evil, let him stride
Onward, and onward—still unsatisfied!

Care.
Whom I once have made my own
All the life of life finds gone.
Gloom of more than night descending
On his steps is still attending.
Morning never on his path
Rises. Sunset none he hath.
Shape unchanged, and senses whole,
—But with darkness of the soul.
Having all things, and possessing
Nothing; poisoning every blessing;
At each change of fortune whining,
In abundance poor and pining;
All things, speak they joy or sorrow
Still postponing to the morrow;
Ever of the future thinking;
Ever from the present shrinking;
And the dream goes on for ever,
And the coming time comes never.

Faustus.
Cease! you talk nonsense. You'll make nothing of mé.
I will not listen to a wórd of it. Off with thee!
This wild witch-litany is bad
Enough to drive the wisest mad.

Care.
Will he come, or will he go?
Who can answer yes or no?
Purposes postponed, forsaken,
All resolve is from him taken.
On the beaten road he loses
Still his way, and by-paths chooses;
Still some devious track pursuing,
All things still by slant lights viewing;
Helplessly on friends relying;
Scarcely living, yet not dying;
His is endless vacillation,
—Not despair, not resignation,—
Restless,—never more partaking
Calm of sleep or joy of waking;
All that others do resenting;
All that he hath done repenting;
All he hath not done regretting;
All he ought to do forgetting;
Lingering, leaving; longing, loathing;
Ripe for Hell and good for nothing!

Faustus.
Ill-boding Spectres! you in many ways
The current of man's happiness derange,
And even the calm of uneventful days
Cloud and perplex, and into torture change.
I know from Demons none can make him free,
Break the strong bands that spirit to spirit unite;
But creeping Care, lour as thou wilt, thy Might
I never will acknowledge. Hence with Thee!

Care.
Feel it then! As fast I flee,
With a curse I part from thee;
Men are blind their whole life long.
Faustus, at life's closing, be
Blind. My curse I breathe on thee.

Faustus
(blind).
Deeper and deeper fast comes on the night,
But pure within shines unobstructed light;
What I've thought out I hasten to fulfil.
The Master's bidding is the true power still.
Up, serfs, to work! and let my bold design
Before the eyes in outward beauty shine.
Up, lazy serfs! up all! seize shovel and spade,
Set to work briskly where the lines are laid.
To perfect the great work I plan demands
One ruling spirit and a thousand hands!

Fore-court of the palace.—Torches.
Mephistopheles, Lemurs, Faustus.
Mephistopheles
(leading the way as overseer).
Come on! come on! come in! come in!
Ye Lemurs, patched together;
Nerves, muscles, loose bones, bags of skin,
Half-naturals, come hither!

[Enter Lemurs.
Chorus of Lemurs.

Mephistopheles.
Little need here of science, or of skill,
Or measuring lines; if but the longest will
At his full length lay him down on the ground,
And the rest of you scrape the sods up round,
Just to mark the dimensions,—it is whát
We have done for our fathers all—man's common lot.
Aye, dig away—just lengthen out that square,
Scoop the sand up—make the hole deeper there.
—Still from the palace to the narrow house
Beside it—the one road! 'Twas ever thus.

Lemurs
(digging with bantering gestures).

Faustus
(coming out of the palace, feeling his way along the door-posts).
What a delight to heart and ear
This stir of spades at work to hear;
All, that owe service for their land,
Are active in the work at hand,
—Earth with itself to reconcile,
Fix limits to the wild waves' race,
And bind the sea with firm embrace.

Mephistopheles.
Aye, and for us you're working all the while.
Oh! what a banquet will your dam and dike
To Neptune the sea-devil give belike;
Any way, they and you both go to ruin.
The Elements for evermore are doing
Our work. Our sworn friends, they and we are one
All things still into nothing running on!

Faustus.
Overseer!

Mephistopheles.
Here!

Faustus.
Bring hither man on man,
Labourers in crowds, as many as you can;
Give all they wish or want; pay any price;
Press them into the works; persuade, entice.
Let me each day know what they have been doing;
Let true account be given me—take thou heed
No time be lost—how dike and dam proceed.

Mephistopheles
(half-aloud).
With other dam and dike, it would appear—
Than that which soon will tuck him in—most clear,
That the old man has little business here.

Faustus
(to himself).
Along the mountain range a poisonous swamp
O'er what I've gained breathes pestilential damp.
To drain the fetid pool off,—were that done,
Then were, indeed, my greatest triumph won.
To many millions ample space 'twould give,
Not safe, indeed, from inroad of the sea,
But yet, in free activity to live.
—Green fruitful fields, where man and beast are found
Dwelling contentedly on the new ground;
Homes, nestling in the shelter of the hill
Uprolled by a laborious people's skill;
A land like paradise within the mound,
Though the sea rave without to o'erleap its bound,
Or nibbling at it, sapping, plashing, win
Its way, impetuously to rush in.
All, with one impulse, haste to the sea-wall,
Repel the mischief that endangers All.
For this one only object do I live,
To the absorbing thought myself I give.
Freedom like Life—the last best truth we learn—
Man still must conquer, and in conquering earn;
And, girded thus by danger, Childhood here
Gray Age and Man and Boy work out the year.
Oh! could I see such throngs, could I but stand
With a free people, and upon free land!
Then might I to such moment of delight
Say, ‘Linger with me, thou that art so bright!’
Ne'er shall the traces of my earthly day
Perish in lapsing centuries away.
Anticipating moment such as this,
Even now do I enjoy the highest bliss!

[Sinks back; Lemurs lay him on the ground.
Mephistopheles.
—And this the spirit that nothing can appease!
No joys give him content, no pleasures please—
Still hankering after strange stray phantasies.
The empty moment, that amused him last,
Infatuated, he would fain hold fast.
He, who against me made so stiff a stand,
Time is his master now—aye, there he is,
The gray old man stretched out upon the sand.
The Clock stands still.

Chorus.
Stands still.
Is silent as mid-níght.
The Hand falls.

Mephistopheles.
Falls. 'Tis finished: and all's right.

Chorus.
All's past away—gone by.

Mephistopheles.
Gone by! There is no meaning in the word!
Gone by?—all's over, then. Gone by?—absurd.
Gone by and utter Nothing are all one:
Why, then, does this Creating still go on?
Gone by? What means it?—What a sorry trade!
Making, and making nothing of what's made.
And then this nothing evermore we see
Making pretence a something still to be.
So on it goes, the same dull circle spinning—
'Twere better with the Eternal Void beginning!

Burial.
Lemurs, Mephistopheles, Devils (Long-horns and Short-horns), Heavenly Host, Choir of Angels.
Lemur
(solo).
And who hath built the house so ill
With shovel and with spade?

Lemurs
(chorus).
For thee, damp guest, in hempen vest,
It all too well was made.

Lemur
(solo).
And who the hall hath decked so ill?
—No chairs, nor table any.

Lemurs
(chorus).
The lodging-house was let at will,
The claimants are so many.

Mephistopheles.

[A glory from above, at the right.
Heavenly Host.
Follow, Envoys sent
From heaven's high firmament,
In serenest flight!
Children of the light!
Sinners to forgive;
To bid dead dust live;
Downward lingering
On momentary wing,
To all Natures leave
Fitted to receive,
As you hover by,
Blessings from on high.

Mephistopheles.
False tones I hear, a hateful nasty noise.
Unwelcome day streams on me from above.
The choir emasculate of girlish boys!
The mawkish sing-song pious people love!
You know our damned design and vile device,
To effect the extirpation of Man's race.
They seize our plot, and this worst artifice
Finds in their hymns and in their heaven a place.
There they come fawning, look at them! there they are!
Full many a one from us they've snapped away,
With our own weapons on us they make war.
Hypocrite-scoundrels! Devils in cowls are they!
Eternal shame 'twere conquered here to sink.
On to the Grave! on, Devils, on! guard the Brink!

Choir of Angels
(strewing Roses).

Mephistopheles
(to his devils).

Angel.
Happy Blossoms! Joyous Flames!
Love they spread, and joy would kindle,
Bé the heart how it may,
Words True,—pure effluence
Of the ethereal light
Made present to the sense
Of heaven's own angels bright,—
Illimitable day!

Mephistopheles.
Curse upon them! Shame eternal!
Satans—think of the infernal
Scoundrels—on their heads are standing;
Fat ones, wheeling, racing, reeling,
With their blind sides right before 'em,
—Dozens flying, falling o'er 'em,—
In their own hell find a landing.
Much good may the hot bath do them! After their race
'Twill be a refreshing thing.
[Devils disappear as described.
I'll keep my place.
[Strikes at the Roses.
Off! Will-o'-the-wisps! However bright your gleam,
Caught in the hand you're but a filthy cream.
Why flutter thus about me? Off with you!
—They sting like brimstone, stick like pitch or glue.

Angels' Choir.
What of your nature is no part
Shrink from! Love is pure.
That, which shocks or wounds the heart,
Oh! think not to endure.
If violently in 'twould move,
We thén must active be.
Love only leads the Loving. Love
Loves on eternally.

Mephistopheles.
I'm all on fire; my head, heart, liver burn.
Here's love-heat with a vengeance—fire too fine
For the devil to breathe—flame sharper than hell-flame.
And This is Love; and thís makes whine and pine
Poor love-lorn earthlings, and their wry necks turn
To court the eye of some contemptuous dame.
Me, too! What ís't makes my head twirl and twist,
And thither, where I have been at sworn war?
—Am I in love with what I did abhor?
Has a strange something that I know not of
Coursed through and through me? How is it that I love
To look on these dear young things? that some force
Makes it impossible for me to curse?
If I'm fooled now, who, for all time hereafter,
Shall be Fool of Fools, the bútt of never-ending laughter?
The shapely creatures hovering through the air,
—They with their lightnings dangerously fair—
The brilliant darlings, though I cannot cease
To hate them, are too lovely for my peace.

Fair children! ye, too, if I do not err,
Like me, are of the race of Lucifer.
—Love for one's own does seem so natural—
Dear children! let me kiss you one and all.
We must have met a thousand times before,
Been playing with each other o'er and o'er.
You have found me in a soft mood. I am smitten;
Will you not come to me, dear coz! sweet kitten!
They grow more beautiful at every glance.
Come, one fond look! Let me not sigh in vain!

Angel.
We come. Why shrink you back as we advance?
We still move nearer. If you can, remain.

[The Angels hover round and fill up the whole space.
Mephistopheles
(pressed into the proscenium).

Choir of Angels.
Loving Flames, that, long unseen,
In the heart have burning been,
Shine ye now in light serene!
Let the Hope-abandoned feel
That the Truth hath power to heal;
That from Evil they may be
Disunited, and thus free,
And a blissful life live on
Ever in the All-in-one!

Mephistopheles
(collecting himself).
How is't? Like Job, the whole man, boil on boil!
At which himself must shudder and recoil;
—Aye, and feel triumph when he looks within,
Knows what he is—true devil's blood kith and kin.
All's right again; untouched the better members;
The scurfy love-rash was but on the skin,
Burned out already its last fading embers.
The devil's clean devil again—the love-itch gone—
And—my Curse on you all and every one!

Choir of Angels.
Holy heart-glowings!
Heavenly birth!
Love's overflowings!
Heaven on earth!
Whom ye float around
Even on earth hath found,
Living with the good,
Full Beatitude.
Arise, singing triumph,
Rise all from beneath,
The air is made pure
For the spirit to breathe.

[They rise, carrying with them the immortal part of Faustus.
Mephistopheles
(alone).
But how?—all vanished; they are gone—and whither?
The young things! they have cheated the old knave,
—Fled heavenwards, and have ta'en their booty thither.
For this—for this been nibbling at the grave.
A treasure, all unique, they have cribbed. I'm juggled!
The high soul pledged and promised me—no less—
They have, in hugger-mugger, slily smuggled.
Where shall I lodge my summons for redress?
All my hard earnings—work and labour given—
Is there no sense of right and wrong in heaven?
Cheated in my old days! outwitted quite!
And then hear for my comfort, ‘served him right.’
And my expenses—getting up this case
And with return of nothing but disgrace.
And I've deserved it—everything mis-spent—
All my own scandalous mismanagement:
—A random love-gust, an absurd love-drivel,
To have seized the seasoned cask of a stale old devil!
Mad childish freak, for one the world that knows,
To have lost time about, or to propose;
Fool first, last, midst—and, worst Fool at the close!

Mountain Gorges—Forest—Field—Desert.
Holy Anchorets, scattered on the Hills, dwelling among the Cliffs.
Chorus and Echo.

Pater Extaticus
(floating up and down).
Brand of eternal joy!
Love-bondage glowing!
Seething heart-agony!
Rapture o'erflowing!
Foaming up, seething up,
Fervour benign
From the depths breathing up!
Rapture Divine!
Axes, down-hew me!
Lances, pierce through me!
Clubs, come and shatter me!
Lightning-darts, scatter me!
Thus, that, Self, cast away,
Perished, and past away,
—Phantom-cloud fleeing
This Nothing of mine,—
The Star of true Being
Transcendent may shine.

Pater Profundus
(in the lower part of the mountain).

Pater Seraphicus
(middle region).
Through the pine-trees' waving tresses
Floats a morning cloudlet fair,
With its freight of youthful Spirits,
Living in the radiance there.

Choir of Blessed Boys.
Tell us, father, where we wander;
Tell us who and what are we.
We know bút that we are Happy.
Bliss it is to Breathe, to Be.

Pater Seraphicus.
Born at midnight, soul and senses
Undeveloped to the sun,
Children, early lost to parents,
By the angels early won!
That a loving one is near you
If ye feel,—oh! come to me,
Ye whose feet have never trodden
Earth's rough pathway,—happy ye!
Live within me, hither tending,
—I the world have seen and known—
From your radiant cloud descending,
Make the old man's eyes your own.
[He takes them into himself.
Gaze upon the region round us!
This is forest—that is rock;
Here flow streams, that there are falling
Down the steep with fearful shock.

Boys
(from within him).
'Tis a scene sublime to look on,
But how desolate and drear!
Father, here we shrink and tremble;
Hold us not imprisoned here.

Pater Seraphicus.
Rising still to higher circles,
On from strength to strength proceed,
Pure and silent growth! God's Presence
Is the life on which you feed;
This the Life-breath is of Spirits;
Purity, Health, Truth is this.
Everlasting Love's revealing,
Blossoming of endless Bliss.

Choir of Blessed Boys
(circling round the highest summit).
Now ascend to higher circles,
Twining hand with happy hand!
Let the strength of happy feeling
Into song and dance expand.
Taught by God,
Faithful be!
Whom ye worship,
Ye shall see.

Angels
(floating in the higher atmosphere, bearing the immortal part of Faustus).
Rescued from the evil one,
This noble spirit see!
Him, who, unwearied, still strives on,
We have the power to free.
And on him breathing from above
If Love its part supply,
Heaven's host with welcomings of love,
Still meets him from on high.

The Younger Angels.

The More Perfect Angels.

The Younger Angels.

The Blessed Boys.

Doctor Marianus
(in the highest, purest cell).

Mater Gloriosa (hovers onward).
Choir of Female Penitents.
To the heavenliest heights as thou floatest away
Of the kingdoms eternal, to thee do we pray—
Thou that hast no peer!
Thou that art rich in Grace! Oh, mercifully hear!

Magna Peccatrix.
By the love that, disregarding
Scornful pharisaic sneers,
While thy Son was beaming godhead,
Bathed His feet with balmy tears;
By the odour-dropping unguent,
Lavishing its treasured sweet;
By the tresses that so softly
Wiped all dry His holy feet.

Mulier Samaritana.
By the well that in the desert
Watered Abram's herds of yore;
By the cup that to our Saviour's
Parching lips its cool draught bore;
By the joy-diffusing fountain
That still gushes pure and bright,
While the stream of life eternal
Through all worlds flows round in light.

Maria Ægyptiaca.
By the holy place of burial,
Where the Lord's dead body lay;
By the arm that from the temple
Warned and waved me thrice away;
By my forty years of penance
In the solitary land;
By the blessed words of farewell
That I wrote upon the sand.

The Three.
Sinless! to the chief of sinners
Access thou deniest never;
And earth's moment of repentance
Hath its heavenly fruit for ever.
To this good soul show like mercy,
The offence in anger view not
Of one moment of forgetting,
Wilful thought of sin that knew not.

Una Penitentium
(formerly named Gretchen and Margaret).
Bend down to look on mé! Mother benign!
None—none is like to Thée! Mother benign!
With thy all-radiant countenance divine,
Look on this joy of mine!
The early-loved comes back—no trace—no taint—no stain—
No grief—no wrongs remain;
The early-loved returns—is mine—is mine again!

Blessed Boys
(approaching in circular movements).
Already he out-tops us all,
The frame expands—the large limbs swell;
The nurture he from us receives,
He will repay it well.
No sounds from lower earth here reach
Our hearts of love or strife;
But he hath heard, and he will teach
To us, at bírth removed from earth,
The harmonies of life.

A Penitent
(formerly named Gretchen and Margaret).

Mater Gloriosa.
Rise to higher spheres, and he
Will feel 'tis Thou—will follow Thee!

Doctor Marianus
(adoring on his face).

Chorus Mysticus.
All we see before us passing
Sign and symbol is alone;
Here, what thought could never reach to
Is by semblances made known;
What man's words may never utter,
Done in act—in symbol shown.
Love, whose perfect type is Woman,
The divine and human blending,
Love for ever and for ever
Wins us onward, still ascending.