University of Virginia Library

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.