 | Faust |  |
13
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Night.Faust discovered sitting unsettled at his desk, in a high-vaulted narrow gothic chamber.
FAUST.
Here, 'mid these books, for many a year
I've travelled science' mazy sphere,
Law, Medicine, and Philosophy,
And thee, alas! Theology,
With study most severe.
Here stand I now, with all my lore,
No wiser than I was before;
Master yclept and Doctor too,
I do as other pedants do,
And up and down, and to and fro,
Lead by the nose my scholars slow—
And see how vain is all our lore!
Which burns me to the very core.
True I am wiser than Wittenberg's hall
Can boast with her doctors, priests, parsons, and all;
No scruples nor doubts in my bosom dwell,
Nor idle fears of devils in hell,—
But for my wisdom, every joy
That sateth others, me doth cloy.
Nor vainly deem I to understand
What passes the grasp of mortal hand,
Nor, with delusive boast, pretend
The manners of the age to mend.
Nor money nor estate have I,
Nor pomp of life and dignity.
Such case no dog might longer live in!
Therefore to magic I have given
My mind, from spirit's mouth to draw
Truths passing Nature's vulgar law;
That I, with bitter-sweating brow,
No more may teach what I do not know;
That I with piercing ken may see
The world's in-dwelling energy,
The hidden seeds of life explore,
And deal in words and forms no more.
I've travelled science' mazy sphere,
Law, Medicine, and Philosophy,
And thee, alas! Theology,
With study most severe.
Here stand I now, with all my lore,
No wiser than I was before;
Master yclept and Doctor too,
I do as other pedants do,
And up and down, and to and fro,
Lead by the nose my scholars slow—
And see how vain is all our lore!
Which burns me to the very core.
True I am wiser than Wittenberg's hall
14
No scruples nor doubts in my bosom dwell,
Nor idle fears of devils in hell,—
But for my wisdom, every joy
That sateth others, me doth cloy.
Nor vainly deem I to understand
What passes the grasp of mortal hand,
Nor, with delusive boast, pretend
The manners of the age to mend.
Nor money nor estate have I,
Nor pomp of life and dignity.
Such case no dog might longer live in!
Therefore to magic I have given
My mind, from spirit's mouth to draw
Truths passing Nature's vulgar law;
That I, with bitter-sweating brow,
No more may teach what I do not know;
That I with piercing ken may see
The world's in-dwelling energy,
The hidden seeds of life explore,
And deal in words and forms no more.
Oh! shon'st thou now, thou full Moon bright.
For the last time my woes upon,
Thou, whom so many a sad midnight
Beside this desk I've watched alone;
Then over books and paper shone
On me thy soft and friendly light!
Oh! that beneath thy lovely ray,
On peaky summit I might stray,
Round mountain caves with spirits hover,
And flit the shadowy meadows over,
From all the qualms of knowledge free,
Bathe me to health within thy dewy sea!
For the last time my woes upon,
Thou, whom so many a sad midnight
Beside this desk I've watched alone;
Then over books and paper shone
On me thy soft and friendly light!
Oh! that beneath thy lovely ray,
On peaky summit I might stray,
Round mountain caves with spirits hover,
And flit the shadowy meadows over,
15
Bathe me to health within thy dewy sea!
In vain! still pines my prisoned soul
Within this curst dank dungeon hole!
Where dimly finds ev'n heaven's blest ray,
Through painted glass, its broken way.
Shut in by heaps of books up-piled,
All worm-begnawed, and dust-besoiled,
And to the ceiling from the ground,
With old smok'd papers hung around;
All circled round with chemick glasses,
Crammed full of instruments and cases,
And old ancestral furniture—
This is thy world! such den must Faustus' soul immure!
Within this curst dank dungeon hole!
Where dimly finds ev'n heaven's blest ray,
Through painted glass, its broken way.
Shut in by heaps of books up-piled,
All worm-begnawed, and dust-besoiled,
And to the ceiling from the ground,
With old smok'd papers hung around;
All circled round with chemick glasses,
Crammed full of instruments and cases,
And old ancestral furniture—
This is thy world! such den must Faustus' soul immure!
And ask I still why thrills my heart,
With timid beatings, and oppressed?
And why some secret unknown smart
Chills every life-pulse in my breast?
'Stead of the living sphere of Nature,
Where man was placed by his Creator,
Surrounds thee mouldering dust alone,
The grinning skull and skeleton!
With timid beatings, and oppressed?
And why some secret unknown smart
Chills every life-pulse in my breast?
'Stead of the living sphere of Nature,
Where man was placed by his Creator,
Surrounds thee mouldering dust alone,
The grinning skull and skeleton!
Arise! forth to the fields, arise!
And this mysterious magic page,
From Nostradamus' hand so sage,
May it not for a guide suffice?
Then dost thou see the secret tether
That binds the planet-orbs together,
And taught by Nature's mightiest spells,
Thy innate force of soul upwells,
As speaks one spirit to another.
In vain that study dull and slow,
These sacred signs would seek to know.
Ye unseen powers that hover near me,
Answer, I conjure, when ye hear me!
(He opens the book, and sees the sign of the Macrocosm.)
Ha! what ecstatic joy this page reveals,
At once through all my opening senses flowing!
Young holy zest of life my spirit feels,
In every nerve, in every vein, new glowing!
Was it a God whose hand these signs portray'd?
That charm the tempest of my soul to rest,
That fill with joy my troubled breast,
And, with mysterious impulse, spread
The powers of Nature bare to mortal sight.
Am I a God? so wondrous is the light
Within me! in these lines so pure, I see
Wide-working Nature's hidden energy.
Now may I know the sage's words aright;
“The world of spirits is not all concealed,
Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead!
Up, scholars, bathe your earthly hearts congeal'd,
In the warm dew of morning's freshening red!”
(He looks at the sign.)
And this mysterious magic page,
From Nostradamus' hand so sage,
May it not for a guide suffice?
Then dost thou see the secret tether
That binds the planet-orbs together,
And taught by Nature's mightiest spells,
16
As speaks one spirit to another.
In vain that study dull and slow,
These sacred signs would seek to know.
Ye unseen powers that hover near me,
Answer, I conjure, when ye hear me!
(He opens the book, and sees the sign of the Macrocosm.)
Ha! what ecstatic joy this page reveals,
At once through all my opening senses flowing!
Young holy zest of life my spirit feels,
In every nerve, in every vein, new glowing!
Was it a God whose hand these signs portray'd?
That charm the tempest of my soul to rest,
That fill with joy my troubled breast,
And, with mysterious impulse, spread
The powers of Nature bare to mortal sight.
Am I a God? so wondrous is the light
Within me! in these lines so pure, I see
Wide-working Nature's hidden energy.
Now may I know the sage's words aright;
“The world of spirits is not all concealed,
Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead!
Up, scholars, bathe your earthly hearts congeal'd,
In the warm dew of morning's freshening red!”
How mingles here in one the soul with soul,
And lives each portion in the restless whole!
How heavenly powers, a bright unwearied band,
Their golden flaggons reach from hand to hand,
And bliss-exhaling swing from pole to pole!
From the high welkin to earth's centre bounding,
Harmonious all through the great All resounding!
And lives each portion in the restless whole!
How heavenly powers, a bright unwearied band,
Their golden flaggons reach from hand to hand,
And bliss-exhaling swing from pole to pole!
17
Harmonious all through the great All resounding!
What wondrous show! alas, 'tis but a show!
Where grasp I thee, unbounded Nature, where?
And you, ye teeming breasts? ye founts, whence flow
All living influences fresh and fair,
Whereon the heavens and earth dependent hang,
Where seeks relief the withered bosom's pang,—
Your founts still well, and must I pine in vain?
(He turns the book over impatiently, and beholds the sign of the Spirit of the Earth.)
What different working on me hath this sign!
Thou, Spirit of the Earth, art to me nearer;
Already sees my strengthened spirit clearer,
And glows my frame as I had drunk new wine.
New strength I feel into the world to dash,
The woes to bear, and share the joys of life,
Its storms defy, and battle with its strife,
Unmoved ev'n in the shipwreck's hopeless crash!
Clouds hover o'er me—
The moon is dim!
The lamp's flame wanes—
It smokes!—Red beams dart forth
Around my head—a shuddering cold
Comes wafted from the vaulted roof,
And seizes on me!
I feel't thou hover'st near me, conjured spirit,
Reveal thee!
Ha! how swells with wild delight
My bursting heart!
And feelings, strange and new,
At once through all my raptured senses dart!
I feel my inmost soul to thee surrendered!
Thou must! thou must! and were my life to pay for't!
Where grasp I thee, unbounded Nature, where?
And you, ye teeming breasts? ye founts, whence flow
All living influences fresh and fair,
Whereon the heavens and earth dependent hang,
Where seeks relief the withered bosom's pang,—
Your founts still well, and must I pine in vain?
(He turns the book over impatiently, and beholds the sign of the Spirit of the Earth.)
What different working on me hath this sign!
Thou, Spirit of the Earth, art to me nearer;
Already sees my strengthened spirit clearer,
And glows my frame as I had drunk new wine.
New strength I feel into the world to dash,
The woes to bear, and share the joys of life,
Its storms defy, and battle with its strife,
Unmoved ev'n in the shipwreck's hopeless crash!
Clouds hover o'er me—
The moon is dim!
The lamp's flame wanes—
It smokes!—Red beams dart forth
Around my head—a shuddering cold
Comes wafted from the vaulted roof,
And seizes on me!
I feel't thou hover'st near me, conjured spirit,
Reveal thee!
Ha! how swells with wild delight
My bursting heart!
And feelings, strange and new,
18
I feel my inmost soul to thee surrendered!
Thou must! thou must! and were my life to pay for't!
(He seizes the book, and pronounces with a mysterious air the sign of the Spirit. A red flame darts forth, and the Spirit appears in the flame.)
SPIRIT.
Who calls me?
FAUST.
(turning away.)
Vision of affright!
SPIRIT.
Thou hast with mighty spells invoked me,
And to obey thy call provoked me,
And now—
FAUST.
Hence from my sight!
SPIRIT.
Thy panting prayer besought my form to view,
To hear my voice, and know my semblance too;
Now bending from my lofty sphere to please thee,
Here am I!—ha! what shuddering terrors seize thee,
And overpower thee quite! where now is gone
The soul's proud call? the breast that scorned to own
Earth's thrall, a world in itself created,
And bore and cherished? with its fellow sated
That swell'd with throbbing joy to leave its sphere
And vie with spirits, their exalted peer.
Where art thou, Faust? whose invocation rung
Upon mine ear, whose powers all round me clung?
Art thou that Faust? whom melts my breath away,
Trembling ev'n to the life-depths of thy frame,
Now shrunk into a piteous worm of clay!
19
Shall I then yield to thee, thou thing of flame?
I am thy peer, am Faust, am still the same!
SPIRIT.
Where life's floods flow,
And its tempests rave,
Up and down I wave,
Flit I to and fro;
Birth and the grave,
Life's secret glow,
A changing motion,
A boundless ocean,
Whose waters heave
Eternally;
Thus on the noisy loom of Time I weave
The living mantle of the Deity.
FAUST.
Thou who round the wide world wendest,
Thou busy sprite, how near I feel to thee!
SPIRIT.
Thou'rt like the spirit whom thou comprehendest,
Not me!
(vanishes.)
FAUST.
(astounded.)
Not thee!
Whom, then?
I, image of the Godhead,
Not like thee!
(knocking is heard.)
Oh death!—'tis Wagner's knock—he comes to break
The charm that bound me while the Spirit spake!
Thus my supremest bliss ends in delusion
Marr'd by a sneaking pedant-slave's intrusion!
20
SCENE II.
Enter Wagner in night-gown and night-cap—a lamp in his hand. Faust turns impatiently towards him.WAGNER.
Excuse me, sir, I heard your voice declaiming,
Belike some old Greek drama, and I came in
To profit by your learned recitation.
For in these days the art of declamation
Is held in highest estimation;
And I have heard asserted that a preacher,
Might boast to have an actor for his teacher.
FAUST.
Yes, when our parsons preach to make grimaces,
As in these times a no uncommon case is.
WAGNER.
Alas! when a poor wight is so confined
Amid his books, shut up from all mankind,
And sees the world scarce on a holiday,
As through a telescope, and far away,
How may he hope, with oratorial skill,
To bend the minds he knows not to his will?
FAUST.
What is not felt, no force of art may gain;
True eloquence must from the full heart pour,
And with an innate, sweet persuasive power,
The hearts of all that hear enchain.
Go to! still sit, together still to glue
Your petty piecework, dressing your ragout
21
From sparks beneath dull heaps of ashes glowing!
Vain wonderment of children and of apes,
If with such paltry meed content thou art;
The pliant heart to heal he only shapes,
Whose words persuasive flow from heart to heart.
WAGNER.
But the delivery is, sir, as you know,
A chief thing, and, alas! here I have much to do.
FAUST.
Be thine to seek the honest gain!
No, shallow-sounding fool!
Sound sense finds utterance for itself,
Without the critic's rule;
And if in earnest ye intend to speak,
What need for words with curious care to seek?
Your speeches, which so primly ye compose,
With which ye crisp the shavings of mankind,
Are unrefreshing as the foggy wind
That through the sapless leaves in autumn blows!
WAGNER.
Alas! our life is short, but long the road
That to the goal of wisdom must be trod;
The thought at times damps all my studies' ardour,
And head and heart alike despair.
Ere we may reach the sources, what is harder
Than all the means to know that help us there?
And when scarce half the way behind us lies,
The poor fagged devil, will he nill he, dies.
FAUST.
The musty parchment, deem'st thou then to be
22
The quickening power of science find'st thou never
Until from thine own soul it gushes free.
WAGNER.
And yet it seems most useful to compare
The times that once were with the times that are;
To see how wise men thought in Greek and Roman ages,
And know how wondrous far advanced our modern age is.
FAUST.
O yes! ev'n to the stars, I trow, so far!
My friend, the ages that are past
Are as a book with seven seals made fast;
And what you call the spirit of the times,
At bottom but the spirit is of those
Whose mind is made the mirror of the times,
And the reflection of themselves back throws.
And then, in sooth, 'tis oft a woeful case,
To see how they confuse, distort, deface!
A heap of rubbish, and a lumber room,
At best a paltry masquerade theatrical,
With sundry learned maxims clept pragmatical,
Such as from puppet-mouths do fitly come!
WAGNER.
But, then, the world!—the human heart and mind!
Something of this to know are all inclined.
FAUST.
Yes, as such knowledge generally goes!
Who dares to call the child by its right name?
The noble few, that to true knowledge came,
Were fools enough their hearts to all to shew,
23
And therefore were they burned and crucified.
I do beseech thee friend, 'tis late i'the night,
For this time be our converse laid aside.
WAGNER.
So learnedly, 'twere my supreme delight
To speak with Doctor Faust till morning-tide;
But on the morrow, being Easter, I
Your patience, with some questions more, may try.
Though with much zeal I've studied various lore,
My knowledge-thirsting soul still craveth more.
(Exit.)
SCENE III.
Faust, alone.FAUST.
Strange how his pate alone Hope never leaves,
Who still to shallow husks of learning cleaves!
With greedy hand, who digs for hidden treasure,
And, when he finds a grub, rejoiceth above measure!
Who still to shallow husks of learning cleaves!
With greedy hand, who digs for hidden treasure,
And, when he finds a grub, rejoiceth above measure!
Durst such a voice of mortal man resound
Where compassed me the spirit-world around?
Yet for this time, my thanks to thee,
Thou meanest of earth's progeny!
From desperation's might thou hast reliev'd me,
That of my senses had well nigh bereav'd me.
Alas! so giant-great the vision came,
That I might feel me dwarf, ev'n as I am.
Where compassed me the spirit-world around?
Yet for this time, my thanks to thee,
Thou meanest of earth's progeny!
From desperation's might thou hast reliev'd me,
That of my senses had well nigh bereav'd me.
Alas! so giant-great the vision came,
That I might feel me dwarf, ev'n as I am.
24
I, God's own image that already deemed
Me near, where Truth's eternal mirror gleamed,
And, casting this vile skin of mortal clay,
Enjoyed myself, in bright celestial day;
I, more than with a cherub's glory crown'd,
That almost seem'd through Nature's veins to flow,
And with creative power the life to know
Of gods—how is my heart's pride now laid low!
One word of thunder struck me to the ground.
Me near, where Truth's eternal mirror gleamed,
And, casting this vile skin of mortal clay,
Enjoyed myself, in bright celestial day;
I, more than with a cherub's glory crown'd,
That almost seem'd through Nature's veins to flow,
And with creative power the life to know
Of gods—how is my heart's pride now laid low!
One word of thunder struck me to the ground.
In vain! in vain! I strive to reach the sphere
Of spirit-natures; though I have the power
To make them at my mighty spell appear,
Yet to enforce their stay I have no power.
My raptur'd soul, in that blest moment's trance,
I felt so little and so great at once;
But frowningly thou drov'st me then
Back to the uncertain lot of men.
Where find I aid? what shun, and what pursue?
Shall I that impulse of my soul obey?
Alas! not sufferings only, but our actions too,
Are clogs and bars in the free spirit's way!
Of spirit-natures; though I have the power
To make them at my mighty spell appear,
Yet to enforce their stay I have no power.
My raptur'd soul, in that blest moment's trance,
I felt so little and so great at once;
But frowningly thou drov'st me then
Back to the uncertain lot of men.
Where find I aid? what shun, and what pursue?
Shall I that impulse of my soul obey?
Alas! not sufferings only, but our actions too,
Are clogs and bars in the free spirit's way!
To the pure essence of the human mind
Still foreign matter from without is joined;
Soon as the good things of this world we gain,
We deem the better part illusion vain;
And noblest feelings, connate with our birth,
Are chilled in the wild tumult of the earth.
Still foreign matter from without is joined;
Soon as the good things of this world we gain,
We deem the better part illusion vain;
And noblest feelings, connate with our birth,
Are chilled in the wild tumult of the earth.
Young fancy, that once soared, with flight sublime,
On wings of hope, ev'n to th'Eternal's throne,
Is now content a little space to own,
When in the mighty whirlpool-stream of time
Our scanty pleasures perish one by one.
Care nestles soon in every heart,
And, nourishing the secret smart,
There rocks her to and fro, and peace and joy are gone.
What though new tempting shapes she still employ,
Estate, mayhap, or house with its annoy,
As wife and child appear she, water, flame,
Dagger or poison, she is still the same;
And still we fear for that which happens never,
And what we lose not are bewailing ever.
On wings of hope, ev'n to th'Eternal's throne,
25
When in the mighty whirlpool-stream of time
Our scanty pleasures perish one by one.
Care nestles soon in every heart,
And, nourishing the secret smart,
There rocks her to and fro, and peace and joy are gone.
What though new tempting shapes she still employ,
Estate, mayhap, or house with its annoy,
As wife and child appear she, water, flame,
Dagger or poison, she is still the same;
And still we fear for that which happens never,
And what we lose not are bewailing ever.
Alas! alas! too deep 'tis felt! too deep!
With gods may vie no son of mortal clay;
More am I like to slimy worms that creep
And dig, and dig, through earth their murky way,
Which, while they crawl, and feed upon the dust,
By passing wanderer's tread to death are crushed!
With gods may vie no son of mortal clay;
More am I like to slimy worms that creep
And dig, and dig, through earth their murky way,
Which, while they crawl, and feed upon the dust,
By passing wanderer's tread to death are crushed!
Is it not dust, what this old gothic wall
From all its musty benches shews me?
And dust the trifling trumperies all
That in this world of moths enclose me?
Here is it that I hope to find
Wherewith to sate my craving mind?
Need I peruse page upon page,
To know that men, in every age,
Tormented have themselves in vain,
With fruitless labour of the brain,
And here and there, with centuries between,
One happy man belike hath been?
What would thy grinning say, if thou could'st speak,
Thou hollow skull, save that thy brain, like mine,
The light of day once wretchedly did seek,
Through heavy glimmerings of the twilight-shine?
Ye instruments, in sooth, now laugh at me,
With wheel and cog-wheel, ring, and cylinder;
At Nature's door, ye should have been the key,
But though your ward be good, the bolt ye cannot stir.
Mysterious Nature may not choose
That man should draw her sacred veil aside,
And what she from the spirit's eye doth hide,
In vain thou seek'st to force with levers and with screws.
Thou antique furniture, why keep I thee,
Save that thou camest from my sire to me?
Thou parchment-scroll, thou hast been smok'd upon
Long as around this desk the sorry lamp-light shone;
Much better had I spent my little gear,
Than with this little burdened here to sweat!
Why of my father's substance am I heir
But for my pleasure to dispose of it?
That which we do not use, a heavy burden lies;
We use it best as the fleet moment flies.
From all its musty benches shews me?
And dust the trifling trumperies all
That in this world of moths enclose me?
Here is it that I hope to find
Wherewith to sate my craving mind?
Need I peruse page upon page,
To know that men, in every age,
Tormented have themselves in vain,
With fruitless labour of the brain,
And here and there, with centuries between,
One happy man belike hath been?
26
Thou hollow skull, save that thy brain, like mine,
The light of day once wretchedly did seek,
Through heavy glimmerings of the twilight-shine?
Ye instruments, in sooth, now laugh at me,
With wheel and cog-wheel, ring, and cylinder;
At Nature's door, ye should have been the key,
But though your ward be good, the bolt ye cannot stir.
Mysterious Nature may not choose
That man should draw her sacred veil aside,
And what she from the spirit's eye doth hide,
In vain thou seek'st to force with levers and with screws.
Thou antique furniture, why keep I thee,
Save that thou camest from my sire to me?
Thou parchment-scroll, thou hast been smok'd upon
Long as around this desk the sorry lamp-light shone;
Much better had I spent my little gear,
Than with this little burdened here to sweat!
Why of my father's substance am I heir
But for my pleasure to dispose of it?
That which we do not use, a heavy burden lies;
We use it best as the fleet moment flies.
But wherefore does that flask a magnet prove
To draw to that one spot my fixed eyes?
And why does sudden light within me rise
As the moon gleams through the dark midnight grove?
I greet thee, matchless phial! thee no more
Shall musty shelves, a useless lumber, keep;
I take thee down, with a devotion deep,
And in thy potent juice do I adore
The height of human wit, and human skill.
Thou essence of the opiate dew of sleep,
Thou extract of all subtle powers that kill,
Be mine the first fruits of thy strength to reap!
I look on thee, and soothed is my heart's pain;
I grasp thee, straight is lulled my racking brain,
And wave by wave my soul's flood ebbs away.
I see the ocean wide before me rise,
And at my feet her sparkling mirror lies;
To brighter shores invites a brighter day.
To draw to that one spot my fixed eyes?
And why does sudden light within me rise
As the moon gleams through the dark midnight grove?
I greet thee, matchless phial! thee no more
Shall musty shelves, a useless lumber, keep;
I take thee down, with a devotion deep,
And in thy potent juice do I adore
The height of human wit, and human skill.
27
Thou extract of all subtle powers that kill,
Be mine the first fruits of thy strength to reap!
I look on thee, and soothed is my heart's pain;
I grasp thee, straight is lulled my racking brain,
And wave by wave my soul's flood ebbs away.
I see the ocean wide before me rise,
And at my feet her sparkling mirror lies;
To brighter shores invites a brighter day.
A car of fire is hovering o'er my head,
Descending lightly! let me mount on high,
Through ether let my winged steps be sped
Unto new spheres of pure activity.
Such life of gods, such heavenly ecstasy,
May'st thou, so late a worm, hope to receive?
Yes! let but my unflinching purpose be
This earth, and the blest light of day to leave,
And open break the portals, which by most
With fear, that fain would pass them by, are crost.
This is the time by deeds, not words, to prove
That earth-born man yields not to gods above.
Before that gloomy cavern not to tremble,
Where all those spectral shapes of dread assemble,
Which Fancy, slave of every childish fear,
Bids, to be torment of herself, appear,
Forwards to strive unto that passage dire,
Whose narrow mouth seems fenced with hell's collected fire;
Such fearless step to take with glad resolve,
Ev'n though the soul to nothing should dissolve.
Now come thou down! thou crystal goblet clear,
From out thy venerable case,
Where thou hast lain unused for many a year.
In days of yore, right gaily didst thou grace
The merry banquets of my sires,
When circled round in thee the draught that glee inspires.
Thy goodly round, the figures pictured there
So quaint, the drinker's duty to declare
In ready rhyme what meaning they might bear,
And at one draught to empty out the cup,
Bring to my memory many a youthful night.
Now to no comrade shall I yield thee up,
Nor whet my wit upon thy pictures bright;
Here is a juice that drunken makes the soul
For ever. With brown flood it fills the bowl.
Let this last draught, the draught of mine own choice,
With cheerful heart be quaffed, and cheerful voice
A solemn greeting to the rising morn!
Descending lightly! let me mount on high,
Through ether let my winged steps be sped
Unto new spheres of pure activity.
Such life of gods, such heavenly ecstasy,
May'st thou, so late a worm, hope to receive?
Yes! let but my unflinching purpose be
This earth, and the blest light of day to leave,
And open break the portals, which by most
With fear, that fain would pass them by, are crost.
This is the time by deeds, not words, to prove
That earth-born man yields not to gods above.
Before that gloomy cavern not to tremble,
Where all those spectral shapes of dread assemble,
Which Fancy, slave of every childish fear,
Bids, to be torment of herself, appear,
Forwards to strive unto that passage dire,
Whose narrow mouth seems fenced with hell's collected fire;
Such fearless step to take with glad resolve,
Ev'n though the soul to nothing should dissolve.
28
From out thy venerable case,
Where thou hast lain unused for many a year.
In days of yore, right gaily didst thou grace
The merry banquets of my sires,
When circled round in thee the draught that glee inspires.
Thy goodly round, the figures pictured there
So quaint, the drinker's duty to declare
In ready rhyme what meaning they might bear,
And at one draught to empty out the cup,
Bring to my memory many a youthful night.
Now to no comrade shall I yield thee up,
Nor whet my wit upon thy pictures bright;
Here is a juice that drunken makes the soul
For ever. With brown flood it fills the bowl.
Let this last draught, the draught of mine own choice,
With cheerful heart be quaffed, and cheerful voice
A solemn greeting to the rising morn!
(He brings the cup to his lips.)
A sound of bells is heard, and distant quire-singing.
QUIRE OF ANGELS.
Christ is arisen!
Joy be to mortal man,
Whom, since the world began,
Evils inherited,
By his sins merited,
Through his veins creeping,
Sin-bound are keeping.
29
What murmurs deep, what notes, so clear and pure,
Draw from my lips the glass by force away?
Thus early do the bells their homage pay,
Of hollow music, to new Easter day!
Already sing the quires the soothing song
That erst, round the dark grave, an angel throng
Sung, to proclaim the great salvation sure!
QUIRE OF WOMEN.
With clothes of fine linen
All cleanly we swathed him;
With spices and balsams
All sweetly we bathed him;
In the tomb of the rock, where
His body was lain,
We come and we seek him,
But seek all in vain!
QUIRE OF ANGELS.
Christ is arisen!
Praised be his name!
His love shared our prison
Of sin and of shame.
He has borne the hard trial
Of self-denial,
And, victorious, ascends to the skies whence he came!
FAUST.
What seek ye here, ye gently powerful tones,
Sweet seraph-music mid a mortal's groans?
30
I hear the message, but cannot believe;
For Faith's first-born, and best-loved child is still,
And still will be, a miracle.
To those bright spheres I may not dare to strive
From which the holy message doth resound;
Yet, fraught with memory of my youth, this sound
Hath power to warn from death, and bid me live.
A time there was when Heaven's very kiss,
On solemn Sabbath, seemed to fall on me,
When spoke the minster-bell devotion's bliss,
And prayer to God was burning ecstasy.
A holy dim unknown desire
Drove me, o'er hill and dale, away from men,
And, mid a thousand tears of fire,
I felt a world arise within me then.
This song proclaimed the sports of youth so gay,
And merry-makings when the spring began;
Now Memory holds my soul with potent sway,
And thoughts of childhood rule the full-grown man.
Oh! sound thou on, thou sweet celestial strain,
The tear doth gush, Earth claims her truant son again!
QUIRE OF THE DISCIPLES.
By death of sorrow, though
Laid in the lowly grave,
Soars he sublimely now
Whence he us came to save.
Proudly exalted He,
Bliss of his Father near;
On the earth's bosom we,
Burden'd are waiting here:
31
Toiling through earth's annoy,
Weeping to envy thee,
Master, thy joy!
QUIRE OF ANGELS.
Christ is arisen
From the corrupting clay
Break ye your fetters,
Joyful, away!
Praising, by deeds of love,
Him who now reigns above,
Feeding the brethren poor,
Preaching salvation sure,
Joys that shall aye endure,
Boldly withouten fear,
For He is near.
END OF ACT FIRST.
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