 | Faust |  |
ix
PROLOGUE
Scene.—A range of mountains between Heaven and Earth.[The Archangels Raphael, Gabriel, and Michael discovered. A faint Chorus of invisible Angels from above.
Raphael.
The sun his ancient music makes,
Rolling amid the rival spheres;
Still his predestined course he takes
In thunder speed throughout the years.
By angels, though uncomprehended,
Strength from his aspect still is drawn;
The universe abideth splendid,
And fresh as at Creation's dawn.
Gabriel.
Swift, beyond understanding quite,
Circles the earth in glorious guise,
Now plunged into profoundest night,
Now sparkling into paradise.
The ocean foams up from the deep,
And over ricks and crags is hurled,
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On with the rapid spheres are whirled.
Michael.
Contending tempests rage and rain
From land to land, from sea to sea;
Weaving a girdle and a chain
Out of their hissing enmity.
A flashing desolation thence
Ushers the awful thunder-way;
But, Lord, Thy servants reverence
The gentle order of the day.
All Three.
By angels, though uncomprehended,
Strength from Thy aspect still is drawn;
The Universe abideth splendid,
And fresh as at Creation's dawn.
[Mephistopheles appears suddenly on the peak. He is dressed in a glimmering robe suggestive of a glory obscured.
[Note on Appearance of Mephistopheles:—Both in the Prologue and in the Epilogue of this drama Mephistopheles appears as the Fallen Angel or Satan of tradition. His speech is suited to this character. But when in pursuit of his wager and the soul of Faust he appears on earth, he has put on the form he judges most serviceable to his ends—that of a cavalier-troubadour of the Middle Ages; and his speech is light, cynical, and of the world.
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Hail to mine ancient friends, my present foes!
This neutral mountain between Hell and Heaven
Is still permitted to these exiled feet;
Here may my Darkness mingle with your Light.
Raphael.
Whence com'st thou now?
Mephistopheles.
From yonder speck, the Earth;
From wandering up and down upon the place,
And pacing to and fro in hate unresting.
And yet man so torments himself, my toil
Seems idle: and heedless my unceasing task.
I would he were more difficult to damn!
He is a grasshopper that flies and springs,
And from the grass the same old ditty sends.
Better he always lay among the grass.
Had I a free rein given me to seduce,
There is no soul on earth I could not win
Were it permitted me.
[Stretching his hand upwards.
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Angel.
It is permitted!
Man writhes to glory but through pain of error.
Mephistopheles.
Angel sent down from bliss! Have I permission
Whence all permission flows, to lure and snare
A human soul, and draw it my own way?
However rich or rare, I will seduce it.
Angel.
Whence all permission flows, thou hast permission.
Mephistopheles.
A wager vast! Look down upon the earth!
[He points downward.
Whom shall I choose? That theologian
That sits and blinks at Truth, and toys with words?
Too easy! Or yonder mighty emperor,
Who sitteth, dark against the Orient,
Throned above prostrate millions? No, not him!
My victory shall be deep and not of show.
Or yonder lady in the convent garden
Pure from the world, and pacing lawns of peace?
Not her! No spirit starved will I select!
See! I will choose for test a rarer soul!
Yonder he sits, the famous Doctor Faust.
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Angel.
None!
Mephistopheles.
Yonder soul I choose then for my wager;
Nothing the tumult of his heart assuages,
For all of Earth and all of Heaven he asks.
The ferment drives him to the far-away.
And yet is he half-conscious of his madness.
To grasp the far the near he hath neglected,
And still has nothing grasped, and now regrets
The once despiséd pleasures of the world.
I will so draw him onward to lost pleasures,
So plunge him deep in sensuality,
His heavy soul no more shall upward strive.
Angel.
So long as he is breathing on the earth,
So long is nothing unto thee forbidden.
Thou art permitted to ensnare the spirit
Of Faust, and turn it from the fountain-head;
Till thou shalt stand abashed at last, and learn
That a good man, though in the dark he strives,
Hath still an instinct for the truer way.
Raphael.
And thou shalt batter thee, and all in vain,
Against an influence appearing slight,
And frail as the resistance of a flower;
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He through the woman-soul at last shall win.
Angel.
Man is too prone to slumber, and he needs
As a companion one who goads and works,
And who, being devil, must be up and doing.
All Three.
But we to Eternal Beauty turn again,
Lord, and in bliss Thy splendours contemplate;
Though we Thy angels may not fathom them,
Thy works are fresh as at Creation's day.
Raphael.
[Turning towards Mephistopheles.]
And thou! Wilt thou not cease vain war with Heaven?
To will the evil, and achieve the good?
Mephistopheles.
Never! Until that hour when the Usurper,
Who wrested from my mother Night her reign,
And fevered Chaos with his blistering stars,
Shall be himself deposed, consent, and cease.
For this same light but lives by what it breeds,
A carrion offspring suckled by the sun.
And never will I cease this war with Heaven
Till the bound elements shall mutiny,
And the imprisoned thunder shall be freed,
And old tremendous blasts shall fly abroad,
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And space shall be again as once it was
Ere He disturbed us with his fiery brain,
Timeless and tideless, limitless and dark!
Mother! Still crouching on the bounds of light,
With face of sea and hair of tempest, still
Huddled in huge and immemorial hate,
Behold thy son, and some dark aid extend!
So, Faust, to win this wager and thy soul,
Pass we from Heaven across the Earth to Hell.
[Thunder and darkness as Mephistopheles, with wings outspread, swoops suddenly like lightning downwards to the Earth.
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