University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Walpurgis-Night.
The Hartz Mountains.
Neighbourhood of Schirke and Elend.
Faust and Mephistopheles.
MEPHISTOPHELES.
I would we had a broomstick to bestride;
Upon the wildest goat I'd rather ride,
Than trail me onward at a pace so slow.

FAUST.
So long as I upon my legs can go,
This knotted stick will serve my end.
What boots it to cut short the mountain path?
Through the long labyrinth of vales to wend,
These rugged mountain-steeps to climb,
And hear the gushing waters' ceaseless chime,
This is the seasoning such a journey hath!
The Spring is waving in the birchen bower,
And ev'n the pine begins to feel its power;
Shall we alone be strangers to its sway?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
I can feel nothing o'the month of May,
But am most wintry cold in every limb;
I'd sooner travel over frost and snow.
How sadly mounts th'imperfect moon!—so dim
Shines forth its red disk, with belated glow,
We run the risk, at every step we take,
On stones, or trunks of trees, our legs to break!
You must allow me to request the aid
Of a Will-o-the-Wisp;—I see one right ahead,
And in the bog it blazes merrily.
Holla! my good friend! dare I be so free,
Two travellers here stand much in need of thee;
Why should'st thou waste thy flickering flame in vain?
Pray be so good as light us up the hill!

WILL-O-THE-WISP.
Out of respect to you, I shall restrain,
If possible, my ever-changing will;
Though 'tis our natural temper, as you know,
No other than a zig-zag course to go.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Ha! ha! hast learn'd from men how to declaim?
March on, I tell thee, in the Devil's name!
Else will I blow thy flickering life-spark out.

WILL-O-THE-WISP.
You are the master of the house, no doubt,
And therefore I obey you cheerfully.
Only remember! 'tis the first of May,
The Brocken is as mad as mad can be,
And when an ignis-fatuus leads the way,
You have yourselves to blame, if you should stray.

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, and WILL-O-THE-WISP,
in reciprocal song.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Hold me tightly by the cue!
From this hillock, may we view,
At leisure, with admiring gaze,
How Mammon in the mount doth blaze.

FAUST.
How strangely through the glens is spread,
Dim sheen as of the morning's red!
Ev'n to the clefts that deepest are,
Of the dark abyss doth it glare.
Here mounts the smoke, there rolls the steam,
There flames through the white vapours gleam,
Now slinking like a thread's thin frame,
Now gushing in a fount of flame,
Here stretching out, in many a rood,
Along the vale, its veined flood,
And here at once it checks its flight,
And bursts in globes of studded light.
There sparks are showering on the ground,
Like golden sand besprinkled round,
And lo! where all the rocky height,
From head to foot, is bathed in light.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Hath not old Mammon nobly lit
His palace for the first of May?
'Tis well that thou hast come to it,
One cannot see such doings every day.
Ev'n now I hear the troop of noisy guests
That to this merry banquet hastes.

FAUST.
How roars through the dark night the savage blast!
How buffets it my neck, with noisy whiz!

MEPHISTOPHELES.
By the old mountain's rocky ribs hold fast!
Or you will tumble down the precipice.
The night is overcast with clouds.
Hear how the storm is crashing through the woods!
How the frighten'd owlets flit!
How the massive pillars split
Of the dark pine-palaces!
How the branches creak and break!
How the riven stems are groaning!
How the gaping roots are moaning!
In terrible confusion all,
One on another clashing, they fall.
And through the clefts, where their wrecks are buried,
Hissing and howling the winds are hurried.
Sounds of voices dost thou hear?
Voices far, and voices near?
And, all the mountain side along,
Streams a raving magic song.

WITCHES
in chorus.
The witches to the Brocken gallop,
The stubble is yellow, the corn is green;
A merry crew to a merry scene,
And Urian, he leads us all up.

A VOICE.
Old mother Baubo comes alone,
A mother-sow she rides upon.

CHORUS.
Honour to him, to whom honour is due!
Lady Baubo leads us on!
A mother-sow she rides upon,
Behind her comes a goodly crew.

A VOICE.
Sister, which way came you?

A VOICE.
By Ilsenstone!
An owlet's nest I looked into.
With its two eyes it gloated so!

A VOICE.
The deuce! at what a pace you go!

A VOICE.
It tore me, it flay'd me!
These red wounds it made me!

WITCHES
in chorus.
The road is broad, the road is long,
Why crowd you so on one another?
Scrapes the besom, pricks the prong,
Chokes the child, and bursts the mother.

WIZARDS.
(half chorus.)
We trail us on, like snails, so slow,
And all the women before us dart;
For, to the Devil when we go,
The women always get the start.

SECOND HALF.
Not quite so bad, we deem, the case is,
The woman needs a thousand paces;
But haste she, what she hasten can,
With one spring comes up the man.

VOICE.
(from above.)
Come up! come up from the lake below!

VOICES.
(from below.)
Right gladly would we upwards soar;
We wash us here till we are bleach'd like snow,
But are as barren as before.

BOTH CHORUSES.
The wind is still, the stars are gone,
The moon is pale so bright that shone,
The magic crew, with whizzing sound,
Sputters sparks on sparks around.

VOICE.
(from below.)
Stop, stop!

VOICE.
(from above.)
Who bawls so loud from the cleft below?

VOICE.
(from below.)
Let me go with you! let me go!
These hundred years I've grop'd my way,
Up the sides of the mountain grey,
Yet can I never reach the top.
I fain would be a merry guest,
At Satan's banquet with the rest.

BOTH CHORUSES.
On broomstick, and on lusty goat,
On pitchfork, and on stick, we float;
And he, to day who cannot soar,
Is a lost man for evermore.

HALF-WITCH.
(below.)
I hobble on behind them all,
The others scarcely hear my call!
I find no rest, when I'm at home,
No rest I find when here I come.

CHORUS OF WITCHES.
The ointment gives our sinews might,
For us each rag is sail enough,
We find a ship in every trough,
Whoso will fly must fly to night.

BOTH CHORUSES.
While we upon the summit ride,
Be yours to sweep along the side,
And with your swarms like locusts pour
Far and wide across the moor.

(They alight.)
MEPHISTOPHELES.
What a thronging, and jolting, and rolling, and rattling!
What a whizzing, and whirling, and hurling, and prattling!
What a sparkling, and blazing, and stinking, and burning!
And witches that all topsy-turvy are turning!—
Hold fast by me, or I shall lose you quite,
Where are you?

FAUST.
(at a distance.)
Here!

MEPHISTOPHELES.
What! so far in the rear!
Why then 'tis time that I should use my right.
Make way! Squire Voland comes, sweet mob, make way!
Here, Doctor, hold by me!—and now, I say,
It seems advisable we should get out,
With one bold spring, from this wild rout;
It is too mad even for such as I.
See'st thou that strange blue light that twinkles nigh,
With mighty power allures it me.
Let us step in behind the bush, to see.

FAUST.
Strange son of contradiction!—may'st ev'n guide us!
In verity 'twas a device most sage;
To Blocksberg wander we a weary pilgrimage,
Like hermits in a corner here to hide us.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Lo! where the flames arise with bickering glee;
In sooth it is a goodly company.
In such a place one cannot be alone.

FAUST.
And yet I'd rather be upon
The top where I behold the flame and smoke.
There thousands to the Evil Spirit flock;
And many a riddle there he will unlock.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
And many a riddle too, perchance, will lock.
Let the great world rant and riot,
We will house us here in quiet.
It is a custom practised long by all,
In the great world to make small.
There see I young plump witches without cover,
And old ones prudently veil'd over.
Yield but to me, and I can promise thee,
With little labour, mickle glee.
I hear their noisy instruments begin!
Confound their scraping!—one must bear the din.
Come, come! what must be must be—let's go in,
With my good introduction on this night,
Thou shalt have laughter to thy heart's delight.
What say'st thou, friend? this is no common show,
A hundred lights are burning in a row,
Extending farther than the eye can go;
They dance, they talk, they cook, they drink, they court,
Now tell me, saw you ever better sport?

FAUST.
Intend you, at our introduction here,
As devil or magician to appear?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Although 'tis much my wont to go incognito,
Yet on a gala-day my order I may shew;
And though a garter here is but of small avail,
The famous horse's foot I ne'er yet knew to fail.
See even now that cautious creeping snail!
With her long feeling visage, she
Has smelt out something of hell in me.
Do what I may, here they discover me.
Come, come! from fire to fire we ramble over,
I am the pimp, and thou shalt be the lover.
(To some who are sitting round a glimmering coal-fire.)
Why sit ye moping here, old sirs?—in sooth,
I cannot much approve your choice;
I should prefer to see you mid the noise
And hurly-burly merriment of youth.
One does not come abroad to sit alone.

GENERAL.
Who would rely upon the faith of nations!
They leave you thankless when their work is done;
The people, like the women, pour libations
Only in honour of the rising sun.

MINISTER.
The liberties these modern changes bring,
I must confess I cannot praise;
The good old times, when we were every thing,
These were the truly golden days.

PARVENU.
We too had eyes for interests of our own,
And ofttimes did, what we should not have done;
But now all things are turning upside down,
Just when we thought that all was won.

AUTHOR.
No person cares to read i'the present day,
A book that has a word of common sense!
And all our glib-tongued younkers, what are they,
But bundles of conceit and impudence?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
(who all at once appears very old.)
I find the people here for doom's-day ready,
Now that the Brocken's top, for the last time, I've gain'd;
And since my vessel now runs rather muddy,
The world seems likewise almost drained.

PEDLAR-WITCH.
Good sirs, I pray you pass not by,
But cast upon my wares an eye!
Of trinkets such a rich display,
One cannot meet with every day.
Yet is there nothing in my store,
Which far all other stores excels,
That hath not done some mischief sore
To earth, and all on earth that dwells;
No dagger by which blood hath not been shed,
No cup from which, through sound and healthy life,
Corroding fiery juice hath not been spread,
No gaud but hath seduced some lovely wife,
No sword that hath not made a truce miscarry,
Or stabbed behind the back its adversary.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Good lady cousin! you come rather late.
Your wares, believe me, are quite out of date;
With novel times, one must have novelties,
And novelties alone attract our eyes.

FAUST.
This is a fair that beats the Leipzig hollow!
My head is so confused, I scarce can follow.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
To the top the stream is rushing,
And we are pushed, when we think we are pushing.

FAUST.
Who, then, is that?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Look at her well.
'Tis Lilith.

FAUST.
Who?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Adam's first wife.
Do thou beware thee of her glossy hair,
Those locks with which she outshines all the train.
Can she with them some thoughtless youth ensnare,
It may be long ere he come back again.

FAUST.
There sit an old and young one on the sward;
They seem to have been dancing somewhat hard.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
O! once begun, they'll go on like the devil.
Come, come! they rise again—let's join the revel.

(Faust and Mephistopheles join the dance; the former with the Young Witch as his partner, the latter with the Old one .)
PROCKTOPHANTASMIST.
(to the dancers.)
Listen to order, you presumptuous brood!
Have we not proved beyond disputing,
That ghosts on terra firma have no footing?
And yet you dance like any flesh and blood!

THE YOUNG WITCH.
(dancing.)
What wants he here, that rude-like fellow there?

FAUST.
(dancing.)
O, he is every where!
What others dance 'tis his to prize.
Each step he cannot criticise,
He counts it for no step at all.
But it offends him most of all,
When he perceives us forwards go;
If we would wheel us round in circles still,
As he is wont to do in his old mill,
He would not take it half so ill!
Especially if you take care to shew,
How much you here to his example owe.

PROCKTOPHANTASMIST.
What! are ye always there? nay, ye are quite incurable!
In this enlightened age, such things are not endurable!
The lawless demon-pack, they play their tricks undaunted;
We are so wondrous wise, and yet the house is haunted.
How long have I not swept the cobwebs of delusion,
And still the world remains in the same wild confusion!

THE YOUNG WITCH.
Be quiet then, and seek some other place!

PROCKTOPHANTASMIST.
I tell you, Spirits, in your face,
This intellectual thrall I cannot bear it;
I love to have a free unshackled spirit.
(The dance goes on.)
To-day I see that all my strength is spent in vain;
I've had a tour, at least, to compensate my evils,
And hope, before I come to Blocksberg back again,
To crush, with one good stroke, the poets and the devils.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
He will now go and set him in a puddle—
A med'cine 'tis your admiration merits—
And, when horse-leeches on his haunches guzzle,
He feels quite cured of spirit and of spirits.
(To Faust, who has just left the dance.)
Why do you let the lovely damsel go,
That in the dance, with sweet song, pleased you so?

FAUST.
Alas! while she so passing sweet was singing,
I saw a red mouse from her mouth outspringing.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Pooh! on the Brocken that's a thing of course.
Let not such freaks disturb your sweet discourse.
Go join the crew, and dance away;
Enough, the red mouse was not gray.

FAUST.
Then saw I—

MEPHISTOPHELES.
What?

FAUST.
Mephisto, see'st thou there
A pale yet lovely girl, in lonely distance fare?
From place to place she moves on slow,
With shackled feet she seems to go.
I must confess, she has a cast
Of Margaret, when I saw her last.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Let that alone! your fancy learn to bridle.
It is a magic show, a lifeless idol .
For men to look upon it is not good.
Its fixed gaze hath power to freeze the blood,
And petrify you stiff as clay.
'Tis a Medusa in its way.

FAUST.
In truth, I see the eyes of one that's dead,
On which no closing hand of love was laid.
That is the breast, that Margaret offer'd me,
That the sweet body I enjoyed so free.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
There lies the witchcraft o't, thou silly simpleton!
A sweetheart's mask she wears to every one.

FAUST.
What ecstasy! and yet what pain!
I cannot leave it for my life.
How strangely this most lovely neck
A single stripe of red doth deck,
No broader than the back o'a knife!

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Quite right! I see it, just as well as you.
She wears her head beneath her elbow too,
For Perseus cut it off, as well you know.
What! will you still a-dreaming go?
Come, let us mount the hillock—there
We shall have noble sport, believe me;
For, unless mine eyes deceive me,
They have got up a theatre.
What make you here?

A SERVANT.
You are just come in time.
'Tis a new piece, the last of all the seven,
For such the number that with us is given.
A dilettante 'twas that wrote the rhyme,
And dilettanti are the actors too.
Excuse me, Sirs,—no disrespect to you,
Attention to one's duty is the law here;
I am the dilettante curtain drawer.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Upon the Brocken you should always dwell,
I know no place that suits you half so well.

WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM;

OR OBERON AND TITANIA'S GOLDEN HIGHTIDE.

INTERMEZZO.

DIRECTOR OF THE THEATRE.
Here rest we where we ne'er have been;
The valiant sons of Mieding;
The Brocken serves us for a scene,
To play the fairy wedding.

HERALD.
The golden high-tide is it then,
When fifty years pass over;
But doubly golden is it when
All brawls and strifes they cover.

OBERON.
Ye spirits, who obey my law,
Be loyal now or never,
When Oberon and Titania
Anew are bound together.

PUCK.
Puck comes in first, and turns athwart,
His merry circles wheeling;
And hundreds more behind him dart,
Loud shouts of laughter pealing.

ARIEL.
Ariel commands the song,
And fills the air with rare tones;
Crooked imps he lures along,
But lures he eke the fair ones.

OBERON.
When man and wife begin to strive,
Let our example guide them!
To teach a pair in peace to live,
You only need divide them.

TITANIA.
When scolds the wife, and frets the man,
Then on the instant seize them;
Transport her South far as you can,
And to the Arctic seas him.

ORCHESTRA.
Tutti.
(Fortissimo.)
Snout of fly, and nose of gnat,
Lead on the band before us!
Frog and cricket, cat and bat,
Join merry in the chorus!

SOLO.
A soap-bell for a doodle-sack ,
The merry waters troubling!
Hear the snecke-snicke-snack,
From its snub-nose bubbling!

EMBRYO SPIRIT.
Legs of spider, paunch of toad,
And wings the little wight has;
And, though he has no head, yet he
His small poetic flight has.

A PAIR OF DANCERS.
With many a nimble pace and spring,
Through honey-dew and vapour,
Trips o'er the ground the little thing,
But higher cannot caper.

INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER.
Do I see a real thing,
Or is it all delusion?
Oberon, the fairy king,
Amid this wild confusion.

ORTHODOX.
Though neither tail nor claws are his,
'Tis true beyond all cavil,
As devils were the gods of Greece,
Must he too be a devil.

NORTHERN ARTIST.
The motley groups that here I see,
I must confess, confound me;
But, when I come from Italy,
My skill will more profound be.

PURIST.
Alas! that I should see it too!
Here we a riot rare have!
Of all the crew, there are but two,
That powder on their hair have.

YOUNG WITCH.
Your powder, like your petticoat
Suits hags that old and gray be
I set me plump on my he-goat,
And naked here display me.

MATRON.
To speak with such a shameless pack,
We have nor will nor leisure;
Soon may your flesh rot on your back,
And we look on with pleasure.

LEADER OF THE ORCHESTRA.
Snout of fly, and nose of gnat,
Sting not the naked beauty!
Frog and cricket, cat and bat,
Attend ye to your duty!

(to the one side.) WEATHERCOCK.
A goodly company! as sure
As I stand on the steeple;
With brides and bridegrooms swarms the moor,
The hopefulest of people!

(to the other side.) WEATHERCOCK.
And opes not suddenly the ground,
To swallow one and all up,
Then, with a jerk, I'll veer me round,
And straight to hell I'll gallop.

XENIEN.
We insects keep them all in awe,
With sharpest scissars shear we;
Old Nick, our worthy Squire Papa,
Here to salute appear we.

HENNINGS.
See! how around the banquet they
Jest merrily together;
The graceless crew have hearts, they say,
As good as any other.

MUSAGETES.
Among this witch and wizard crew,
I do delight to lose me;
Much less than when I lead the Mu-
Ses' choir, it doth confuse me.

CI-DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE.
The Brocken has a good broad back,
Come take me by the cue, Sir;
Like the High-Dutch Parnassus, it
Has room for me and you, Sir.

INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER.
Say, who is he so stiff that goes,
With stiff and measur'd paces?
He snuffs and snuffles with his nose,
“The Jesuits he traces.”

CRANE.
In muddy waters do I fish
As well as where it clear is,
And only for such cause as this
The pious man too here is.

WORLDLING.
O yes! the saints are wont, we know,
By every thing to profit;
They'll find their way to Blocksberg too
Though much they use to scoff it.

DANCER.
A sound of drums! a sound of men!
That wafted on the wind came!—
The weary bitterns, in the fen,
Are booming—never mind them!

DANCING-MASTER.
Lo! how they kick, and how they jump!
How well each figure shewn is!
Springs the crooked, hops the plump!
Each thinks him an Adonis!

A GOOD FELLOW.
How brawls the vile pedantic pack!
Within their breasts what ire hid!
But dance they all to the doodle-sack,
As the beasts to Orpheus' lyre did.

DOGMATIST.
I let no one bamboozle me,
With doubts and critic cavils;
The Devil sure must something be,
Else whence so many devils?

IDEALIST.
This time doth mighty phantasy
Too wildly overrule me;
If I am all that now I see,
I surely must a fool be!

REALIST.
That on the Brocken ghosts appear
Now scarce admits disputing;
Amid this hurly burly here
I've fairly lost my footing.

SUPERNATURALIST.
Into this swarming hellish brood
I come, without intrusion;
From evil spirits to the good,
It is a just conclusion.

SCEPTIC.
They chase the flame that flits about,
And deem them near their treasure;
Best rhymes with doubt this demon-rout,
And I look on with pleasure.

LEADER OF THE ORCHESTRA.
Snout of fly, and nose of gnat,
Ye stupid Dilettanti!
Frog and cricket, cat and bat,
Keep better time why can't ye?

NIMBLE SPIRITS.
Sansconci is hight the crew
On limber limbs that ply it;
When on our feet it will not do,
Then on our heads we try it.

AWKWARD SQUAD.
Time was, we bow'd and scrap'd our way
To smack at many a rare treat;
But now, we've danced our shoes away,
And walk upon our bare feet.

IGNES FATUI.
Though born but with the sultry ray,
This morn, in the morass all,
Yet now, amid the gallants gay,
We shine here and surpass all.

FALLING STAR.
From the ether's height I shot,
Where stars of meteor blaze be,
Here on the ground now lie I squat,
O! who will help to raise me?

PLUMP SPIRITS.
Make way! make way! a sturdy crew,
O'er brier and bramble jump we;
Spirits are we, Spirits too
Have limbs that thick and plump be.

PUCK.
Why tramp ye so majestical
As cub of river-horse is?
The plumpest spirit of you all
Stout Puck himself of course is.

ARIEL.
If loving nature's bounteous care
With pinions hath adorn'd ye,
Then tread my airy track to where
The heights of rosy morn be.

ORCHESTRA.
(pianissimo.)
Clouds and mists now disappear;
The stage and all together,
With one single puff of air
Is vanished into ether.

SCENE III.

A cloudy day. The Fields.
Faust and Mephistopheles.
FAUST.

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

MEPHISTOPHELES.

She's not the first.

FAUST.

Dog! abominable monster!—Change him, O thou
infinite Spirit! change the reptile back again into
his original form—the poodle that ran before me in
the twilight, now trembling at the feet of the harmless

wanderer, now springing on his shoulders!—
Change him again into his favourite shape, that he
may crouch on his belly in the sand before me, and I
may tramp him underneath my feet, the reprobate!—
Not the first! Misery, misery! by no human soul to
be conceived! that more than one creature of God
should ever have been plunged into the depth of this
woe! that the first, in the writhing agony of her
death, should not have atoned for the guilt of all the
rest before the eyes of the eternally Merciful! It
digs even unto the marrow of my life, the misery of
this one; and thou—thou grinnest composedly over
the wretchedness of thousands!

MEPHISTOPHELES.

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

FAUST.

Show not thy rows of voracious teeth to me! It
nauseates me!—Great and glorious Spirit, who didst
condescend to reveal thyself to me, who knowest my
heart and my soul, wherefore didst thou bind me
down to this vilest of complices, who feeds on mischief,
and rejoiceth in destruction?

MEPHISTOPHELES.

Hast thou finished?

FAUST.

Deliver her! or woe to thee!—the direst of curses
be on thee for ever!

MEPHISTOPHELES.

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

(Faust looks wildly round.)
MEPHISTOPHELES.
(continues.)

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

FAUST.

Bring me to her! She shall be free!

MEPHISTOPHELES.

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

FAUST.

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

MEPHISTOPHELES.

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

FAUST.

Up and away!

SCENE IV.

Night. The open Field.
Faust. Mephistopheles.
(Galloping past on black horses.)
FAUST.
What work they, flitting round the Raven-stone?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Can't say what they are boiling and working at.

FAUST.
They hover up, they hover down, they bend them, they bow them.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
A corporation of witches.

FAUST.
They seem to be sprinkling and blessing something.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
On! on!

SCENE V.

A Prison.
Faust, with a bundle of keys in his hand and a lamp, before an iron-door.
FAUST.
Strange shuddering dread comes o'er me—seizes me
All the collected wretchedness of time.
Here dwells she now behind this wintry wall,
And sweet delusion was her only crime!
Fear'st thou to go to her?
Tremblest to meet her eye?
Quick! thy delay but hastens her death on.

(He seizes the lock. Singing heard from within.)

My mother, the whore
That did me slay!
My father, the knave
That ate me up!
My sister dear
In the cool green shade
My bones she laid.
Then was I a glad little bird of the wood;
Fly away! fly away!

FAUST.
(opening the door.)
She dreams not that her lov'd one is so near,
The clinking chains and rustling straw to hear.

MARGARET.
(hiding herself on the bed.)
Woe, woe! they come.—To bitter death they call.

FAUST.
(softly.)
Hush! hush! I come to free thee from them all.

MARGARET.
(throwing herself at his feet.)
Art thou a man, feel for my hapless plight.

FAUST.
Thy cries will wake the watchers of the night!

(he takes hold of the chains to unloose them.)
MARGARET.
(on her knees.)
Who gave thee, hangman, such a power
To drag me from my cell at midnight hour?
Have pity on me, use me not so rough!—
Surely to-morrow morn is soon enough.
(she stands up.)
So young, so very young, am I,
And must already die!
Once was I lovely too—'twas this that caus'd my fall.
Near was the friend, now he is far away;
Torn lies the wreath, the flowers are scattered all,
O tear me not so forcibly away!
Spare me! what have I done to injure thee?
O hear my prayer! for once compassion shew!—
'Tis the first time I ever look'd on thee.

FAUST.
That I should live to see such depth of woe!

MARGARET.
Thou hast me now completely in thy might.
Only first give me time to suckle my sweet child.
I hugg'd it the whole weary night;
They took't from me to give me pain,
And now they say that it was kill'd
By me.—And never shall I smile again.
They sing songs on me, too!—'tis an ill-natur'd thing!
Such is the ending of a well-known song,
Who told them that its words to me belong?

FAUST.
(throwing himself down.)
Here, at thy feet, see one who loves thee cling,
Deliverance from these bonds of woe to bring!

MARGARET.
(falling beside him on her knees.)
Yes! let us kneel to call upon the Saints!
Beneath these steps,
I hear it well!
Beneath the threshold,
Boileth hell!
The evil One
His fury vents,
With fearful noise!

FAUST.
(loud.)
Margaret! Margaret!

MARGARET.
(attentive.)
That was the lov'd one's voice!
(she springs up, the chains fall away.)
Where is he? where? I heard him call on me,
Now I am free! and none shall hinder me!
To his neck will I fly!
On his bosom lie!
He called me Margaret! at the door he stood.
Through the wild howling and clattering of hell,
Through the loud-laughing scorn of the fiendish brood,
Came the sweet voice of love that I know so well.

FAUST.
'Tis I!

MARGARET.
'Tis thou! O say it yet again!
(clasping him.)
'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain?
Where all my prison's woe? my fetters where?
'Tis he! he comes my freedom to prepare!
Now am I free!
Already the well-known street I see,
Where the first time I spoke to thee,
And the cheerful garden, where
Martha and I did wait on thee.

FAUST.
(striving forward.)
Come, come!

MARGARET.
O stay, stay!
Thou know'st how pleased I stay where thou dost stay.

(caressing him.)
FAUST.
Away, away!
Unless we haste,
Dear shall we pay for these few moments' waste.

MARGARET.
How! giv'st thou me no kiss?
My friend, so very short a space away,
And hast forgot to kiss?
Why feel I now so straiten'd round thy neck?
Whereas of old thy words, thy glances, spoke
A very heaven, and thou didst kisses take
So many, as if thou wouldst make me choke.
Kiss me!
Else kiss I thee!
(she embraces him.)
—O woe! thy lips are cold,
Are dumb.
Where is the love thou hadst for me of old?
Who was it, Henry, robb'd me of thy love?

(She turns away from him.)
FAUST.
Come with me, sweet love, come!
I'll hug thee ten times closer than before,
Only come with me now! Come, I emplore!

MARGARET.
(turning to him.)
Art thou then he? Art thou then truly he?

FAUST.
'Tis I, in truth. Come, love, and follow me.

MARGARET.
And these vile chains thou breakest,
And me again unto thy bosom takest?
How comes it that thou dost not spurn me from thee?
Know'st thou then, Henry, whom thou com'st to free?

FAUST.
Come, come! the deep hour of the night doth flee.

MARGARET.
My mother made I sleep a sleep profound!
My little child I drown'd!
Was it not heaven's boon to me and thee?
Thee, too!—'tis thou! I scarce may credit it:
Give me thy hand. It is no dream.
Thy dear, dear hand!—Alas! but it is wet!
Wipe it away, for it doth seem
As were there blood on it.
O God! what hast thou done?
Put up thy sword;
I pray thee put it up.

FAUST.
Let what is gone for evermore be gone.
Thou stabbest me with daggers, every word.

MARGARET.
No, thou shalt survive our sorrow!
I will describe the graves to thee,
Where thou shalt bury them and me
To-morrow.
The best place thou shalt give my mother,
Close beside her lay my brother;
Me a little to the side,
But at distance not too wide!
And my child at my right breast.—
These only share our place of rest.
Me on thy loving side to press,
That was a heaven of blessedness!
But now, I cannot do it more;
I feel as if to thee I must compel me,
And thou didst coldly back repel me;
And yet 'tis thou!—as good, as loving as before.

FAUST.
Feel'st thou that 'tis I, then come!

MARGARET.
Out there?

FAUST.
Into the open air.

MARGARET.
If the grave be there,
And death there lurks, then come!
Hence to my eternal home,
Not a step more.—
Thou leav'st me now?—would I might go with thee?

FAUST.
Thou canst, if thou but wilt. I have unbarr'd the door.

MARGARET.
I may not go; no hope remains for me.
They watch me close—'tis all in vain to flee.
It is so sad to beg from door to door,
And with an evil conscience to boot.
A homeless earth to wander o'er;
And they are sure at last to find me out.

FAUST.
I will protect thee.

MARGARET.
Quick! Quick!
Save thy poor child!
Away, away!
Keep the path
Up the stream,
Across the bridge,
To the left hand,
Where the plank stands,
In the pond.
Seize it, quick!
It rises up,
It kicks! it lives!
O save it, save it!

FAUST.
Only bethink thee!
One step more, and thou art free.

MARGARET.
Would we were past that mountain gray!
There sits my mother on a stone—
I feel a hand that pulls me back
As cold as clay!
There sits my mother on a stone,
Her head wags heavily;
She winks not, she nods not, her head she may not raise.
She slept so long, she never more may wake.
She slept that we might our enjoyment take.
O these were happy days!

FAUST.
Here words and prayers will only make things worse;
Wilt thou not come, then bring I thee by force.

MARGARET.
Let me alone! lay no rough hands on me!
Nor with such murderous clutches seize me!
Thou know'st I have done every thing to please thee.

FAUST.
The day is gray! Come, sweet love, follow me!

MARGARET.
Day! yes, it is day! the judgment-day breaks in!
My marriage-day it should have been!
Let no one know thou wert before with Margaret.
Woe to my wreath!
'Tis done! 'tis done!
We will meet again;
But not at the dance.
The multitude in silent crowds are thronging,
The squares, the streets,
Cannot contain them all.
The bell doth call,
The staff doth break,
They bind me with cords, and drag me away,
And on the bloody scaffold me lay.
And every trembling eye doth quake
At the blade that is brandish'd o'er my neck.
Mute lies the world as the grave!

FAUST.
O that I ne'er were born!

MEPHISTOPHELES.
(appearing from without.)
Up! or we are undone.
Profitless whining, whimpering, and prating!
Meanwhile my frozen steeds are waiting,
Snuffing the scent of the morning sun.

MARGARET.
What see I rising from the floor?
'Tis he! 'Tis he! O Henry send him hence.
What seeks he on this place of penitence?
He comes for me!

FAUST.
No! thou shalt live.

MARGARET.
Judgment of God! to thee my soul I give.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
(to FAUST.)
Come, come! else will I leave you in the lurch.

MARGARET.
Thine am I, Father! Father, save thou me!
Ye angels! ye most holy spirits! now
Encamp around me! and protect me now!
Henry! I tremble when I think on thee.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
She is judged!

VOICE.
(from above)
Is saved!

MEPHISTOPHELES.
(to FAUST.)
Hither to me!

VOICE.
(from within, dying away.)
Henry! Henry!