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ACT V.


379

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;

380

Strength for their short hours of waking
Still from sleep the old receive.

Wanderer.
Say then, love you still, dear mother,
Still to hear my thanks again?
By thy kind act and thy husband's
Rescued. Many years since then!
Art thou Baucis, she, whose nurture
To my cold lips called back life?
[Philemon enters
Thou, Philemon, who my treasure
Saved amid the billows' strife?
How the rapid fire you lighted
Threw its blaze o'er ocean drear!
How that night amid the tempest
Rang your small bell's silvery cheer!
Let me move a few steps onward
Let me view the boundless sea!
Let me kneel in thankful prayer
My full heart oppresses me.

[Moves rapidly over the downs.
Philemon
(to Baucis).
Hasten now to spread the table
'Mong the garden's cheerful trees;

381

Let him run, and, struck with wonder,
Start back, doubting all he sees.

[Follows him.
Philemon
(to the Wanderer).
Where the sea in savage fury
Wave on foaming wave once rolled,
Now you see a happy garden,
Fair as Eden was of old.
Gone was my poor strength—too feeble
To have aided; weak like me,
Shrank the waves, till then unconquered,
Shrank in fear the mighty sea.
Bold hands toiled, wise heads directed,
Dikes and dams shut out the sea;
Ocean's old rights they invaded,
Lords, where he had ruled, to be.
See! in green waves meadows rolling!
Pastures, garden, woodland, town!
But the evening bids us homeward.
Come!—the sun is sinking down.
Sails move inward from the distance,
For the night to port repair;
Birds, that know their nests, I warrant,
For a haven now is there!

382

Far away in the dim distance,
First the sea's blue fringe you trace;
Right and left, see, fields and gardens
Crowd the thickly peopled space.

(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.


383

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.

384

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?

385

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,

386

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.


387

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

388

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.
Cursed be
This Here!—'tis torture—'tis disgust:
From your experienced eye I must
Not seek to hide that, sting on sting,
It wounds my heart; nor can I name
The cause without a sense of shame.
Surely—yes, surely—'tis a thing
In which the old folks on the hill
Ought to give up to mine their will.
I wished to have the linden field:
Obstinate fools!—they will not yield.
The world is mine, but all its joy
Those few trees, not my own, destroy.

389

There would I, for the prospect's sake,
From bough to bough my scaffolds run,
And vistas thro' the branches make
To gaze on all that I have done.
Thence overlook, as from a tower,
Widé lands for man's dwelling won,
Noblest work of human power.
Flowing thence the master-mind
Would to all glad impulse give,
And its own enjoyment find
In the joys that round it live.
'Tis tóo bad. What we have of weal
We feel not. What we want we feel.
The lindens, and the little bell,
The tinkling, and the heavy smell,
Bring round me mists of church and grave.
The Will that made all bend in fear
Breaks—breaks upon this sand-bank here.
Rings but that little bell, I rave.

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.

390

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.


391

Mephistopheles
(humming half to himself.)
Aye! pluck them up, and carry them off, and lay them down; and then,
Before you have time to look about, they're on their legs again.
To be sure, such shócks and violent knócks they may think an outrageous thing;
But field and fárm are a capital chárm good temper back to bring.
[Whistles shrilly. Enter The ‘Three.’
Come! 'tis the master's bidding meet;
To-morrow he will feast the fleet.

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.


392

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.

393

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?

394

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—

395

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

396

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!’


397

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 .


398

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.

399

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.
Four came—I saw them—and could only see
Three going. And the odd talk of the three,
As they went hence, what could its meaning be?
I caught some few strange murmurs—Care, and Crime,
And Death—the burthen of their dreary rhyme.
The hollow tones breathed an unearthly chill.
And through me yet they have not ceased to thrill.
Were my path once but from this Magic free,
Forgotten all these words of Sorcery,
Stood I alone, oh Nature, before thee
Man, and but Man, 'twere worth the trouble to be
A man.
Such was I once, but I must grope
And dabble in the dark—must blot out hope—
Must curse myself, and curse the world without.
These phantoms everywhere now float about

400

Thro' the thick air. Go where one will, one meets
The same perplexities—the same deceits.
If but one day seem tolerably bright,
Wild dreams will come disquieting the night.
From the fresh fields we come with joyous cheer,
And a bird croaks. What croaks he? Danger near.
By Superstition morn and eve beset,
And never free from her entangling net;
Divorced from Nature's life, each accident
Takes shape; is sign, and omen, and portent;
And we—unmanned by terror—stand alone.
—The door creaks—none comes in. Is any one
There?—

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.


401

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.

402

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.


403

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!


404

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!


405

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.
We are at hand; and your command
As we half understood it,
Is that we drain a patch of land
Apt to be overflooded.
The pointed stakes, they all are here,
And chains with which to measure.
—If we but knew what we've to do;
Pray tell us what's your pleasure?

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,

406

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).
I lived and loved, and I was young,
And thought it was so sweet;
And I was young, and played and sung,
And merry went my feet.
But now old Age, the spiteful knave,
Has hit me with his crutch;
I stumbled on an open grave,
Their heedlessness was such!

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.


407

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.


408

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!’

409

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.


410

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.


411

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

Mephistopheles.
There lies the body, and when the spirit flies out,
I meet him straightway with the blood-signed scroll—
A title, one would fancy, free from doubt;
But, now-a-days, they have so many ways
To chouse the devil of a hard-won soul.
The Old road's scarce in fashion—has ruts on it—
On the New short work of us poor devils is made—
We are not known there in the way of trade;
In the óld time, I could alone have done it,
To catch him I must call up other aid.
All now goes wrong—old customs disregarded,
Old rights are trampled down—old rules discarded.
Why, in the old day, the soul, when the puff
Was out, would quit the body quick enough.
Then was I ready, without pain or pause,
To snap it like a mouse up in my claws;
But now it sticks, and will not leave the place,
But lingers in the body's filthy case,
Till from its hold 'tis in dishonour cast
Forth by the warring Elements at last.
Fretting with baffled hope, day after day
I've often watched your stiff one as he lay;

412

A pretty waste of toil and time, for then
Would tangled questions come of ‘how,’ ‘where,’ ‘when?’
Death is not now as Death was long ago.
If Dead or not, 'tis long before we know.
—Often have I sate leering with delight
On the stark limbs. False show! It stirred, moved, lived outright.
[Fantastic gestures of conjuring to the Devils, who come at his call, as described.
On, Generals, on! Come—quick march, double time—quick,
Lords of the Straight! Lords of the Crooked horn!
Demons of blood and birth—chips of the old block—
With the long curled crumply horns! Come, short-horned, thick
Devils, tubby, stubby—right breed they—true stock—
Stretch breast and back—and show what good is in you!
From the place below draw for the Spectacle
Up to the stage one of the Mouths of Hell.
[Apart. Knowingly to the Audience.
Hell has mouths many, many!—Deep respect
Hath Hell, and seats reserved, for the upper classes;
But wait awhile, and, if the old play continue,
After another season or two passes,

413

And the people get their true rights, I expect
Hell too will be thrown open to the masses.
[Hell-mouth opens at the left of the Stage.
The edge-teeth gnash. The vaulted gulf's wide rim
O'erflows with angry fire. Through seething smoke
I see the City of Flame at distance flashing,
And to the teeth the red surf up is splashing;
And out the damned, hoping escape, would swim,
When the hyæna-jaws close on them crashing.
In anguish then they turn them to retrace
Their fiery path for ever. Many a nook
Is here of undiscovered agony,
—The fiercest pangs massed in the narrowest space.
[Aside, to the Knowing.
Good thing to frighten sinners with!—They deem
It, all the while deceit—delusion—dream.
[To the Thick Devils with Short Straight Horns.
Up! fire-backed grubs, your red sleek cheeks aglow
With brimstone blazes from the place below.
Up! lumpy, stumpy devils that you are, be staunch:
Come, stir the broad back, shake the lazy paunch.
Be awake, be alive, mind well what you're about,
Twist your búll-necks round, if they'll twist,—keep a good eye out

414

For the glimmer of the rotting phosphorus there—the sparkle
Is the delicate little Soul,—the glorious form!
The Psyche with her heaven-aspiring wing!
Pluck the wings off—pah! 'tis a sorry worm.
I'll seal it with my seal, the filthy thing.
Away with it! away, in whirlwind, fire, and storm!
Keep watch and ward on the body's lower places;
Ye windy Puff-balls, empty Bladder-faces,
Secure the passes thence. There is no telling
But that the soul had thereabouts her dwelling,
The navel is a lodge she loves. Your legions
Should guard and garrison these under regions,
Take care lest the spirit slip out and whisk you by.
[To the Dry Devils with Long Crooked Horns.
Up to the Head—up, Fuglemen gigantic,
Comical Rascals—Devils, that ape the antic,
Be for once in earnest; rake, with your hooked claws,
The air around you! stretch up your webb'd paws'
Gaunt network! Snatch at, catch at, on the wing
Seize, as it flits away, the fluttering thing.
In ruins the old roof about it lies,
It must go out—the chances are 'twill rise,—
Genius is uppish—and would seek the skies.


415

[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.

416

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).
Dazzling Roses, dropping balm,
With secret breath restoring
Heaven's life of happy calm!
Fluttering down, up soaring,
Plumy branchlings, winglets green,
Buds, unsealed from timid screen,
Wake into sudden blow!
Burst out, celestial Spring,
In green and purple glow,
Your Paradises bring
To him who sleeps below!

Mephistopheles
(to his devils).
What, stoop? and duck?—and have ye no more pluck?
Is this the way with you, devils? not keep your ground?
Each to his post, aye, let them scatter round

417

Their roses,—pretty trick the day to win,—
The red-hot devils with flower-shows to snow in.
Before your breath the rose-shower melts and shrivels,
Blow Bellows-fiends! blow brisk! Puff! Puffball devils!
Enough! enough! the blast may be too rough.
—That will just do; each leaf as it floats hither,
Grows pale—aye, every one of them will wither.
Somewhat more softly,—shut up nose and maw,—
Not one of you but works with too much jaw.
How is it that you never can go right?
—They're more than parched, they're browned, they're burning quite,
And into white flames venomously clear,
Kindled by your own breath, press 'gainst you here.
Resist! all stand together in full force!
What?—Is all courage gone? and—worse and worse—
Devils—are they love-sick?—wheedled by the smell
Of a féw scorch'd rose-leaves.—What a thing to tell.

Angel.
Happy Blossoms! Joyous Flames!
Love they spread, and joy would kindle,

418

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.


419

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?

420

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).
And Us ye call Damned Spirits, Us yóu call Evil—
Ye, common tempters of man, woman, devil.
Was ever known the like? And this is, then,
The element of what's called Love by men!

421

My whole frame's fire; the scorched spot on my neck
Is nothing here or there—a surface speck.
Ye hover up and down, and to and fro,
Float through the air, but still away ye flow.
Fairest! float downward hither on soft wing.
No doubt the stately-solemn is your style!
Something more like the world were more the thing.
What joy 'twould give me could I see you smile!
—A lady's smile, who lets a favoured lover
In the fond hour her secret heart discover—
That were a something my whole nature casting
By one glance into rapture everlasting.
And 'tis so easily done. Just draw the lip
A little to one side, the slightest dip.
That long fellow is handsome, or at least
Good-looking—rather too much of the priest.
The folds of the broad stole are in excess;
'Twere not less moral if it covered less.
Angels! smile down upon me! Charmers, stay!
They float into their heaven—are pass'd away.

Choir of Angels.
Loving Flames, that, long unseen,
In the heart have burning been,
Shine ye now in light serene!

422

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.

423

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:

424

—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!


425

Mountain Gorges—Forest—Field—Desert.
Holy Anchorets, scattered on the Hills, dwelling among the Cliffs.
Chorus and Echo.
Forest-trees, waving here!
Rocks, hanging dark and drear!
Roóts of the forest-trees,
Everywhere clinging!
Shoóts of the forest-trees,
Everywhere springing!
Brooklets with ceaseless waves!
Shelter of sunless caves!
Lions love the holy place,
Wake no terror, feel no fear.
Round and round, with friendly pace,
Move our dumb protectors here.

Pater Extaticus
(floating up and down).
Brand of eternal joy!
Love-bondage glowing!
Seething heart-agony!
Rapture o'erflowing!

426

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).
Calm, at my feet, its lonely crown
Of rocks o'erbrows the precipice.
A thousand streams foam flashing down
In thunder to the black abyss.
And instincts from within still move
To upper air the pine-trees tall.
And Love it is, almighty Love,
That moulds, sustains, and lives in all.
Here around me evermore
The billowy forest rolls, above;
Below, the falling torrents roar;
Yet are they ministers of Love,

427

The valley that refresh and cheer.
And when the lightning-darts flash forth,
Their mission is belike to clear
The air from clouds, that over earth
Hang low with poison in their womb.
Yes! ministers of love are they,
And tell of the great Being, whom,
Creator still from day to day,
We feel around us.
Oh! illume
Mý breast too, where distracted, vain,
Sinks the cold spirit: break the chain
Of this world's life, dispel the gloom,
And bid the dead heart live again!

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,

428

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.

429

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.
See! the purple Roses borrowed
From the hands of pious women
Who had loved, and sinned and sorrowed;

430

—Loved above all human measure,
Sinned and sorrowed and repented.
Theirs it was for heaven the treasure
To win home of that high spirit!
Theirs the mighty work to perfect.
On the grave we strewed the flowers,
And the bad ones shrank away—
Devils, watching for their prey,
Fled in terror, as the showers
Of the burning roses came.
Torments, sharper than hell-flame,
The old Satan-master bore,
—Love-pangs never felt before.
Shout aloud! The day is ours!

The More Perfect Angels.
A something, that hath had its birth
In clay, is to him clinging;
The earthy would weigh down to earth
The burthen we are bringing.
Upward we bear it,
A heavy load, sure!
Asbestos even were it,
Yet were it not pure.
The elements, together brought
By a strong spirit's might,

431

The dross into the pure ore wrought,
No power of mán or angel can
Dissolve or disunite.
The alien natures, bound by one
Indissoluble heart,
Love only, Love, Eternal Love—
Can rend and keep apart.

The Younger Angels.
Vapours round the rocky height
Here are spreading rife;
Cloudlets floating into light,
Orbs of spirit-life.
Near, and more near—the mists grow clear—
I see a choir of blessed boys
Up-weave their spiry flight.
Children they! Earth's wrongs and cares,
And tears and smiles, were never theirs.
—Here in the fresh breeze frolicking,
They would bathe them in the joys
Of this new world, this heavenly spring.
Oh! place Him at the first
With this exulting ring,
To breathe in heaven's own clime
Sweet Childhood's joy, a happy time;
Soon the rich flower to riper life will burst.


432

The Blessed Boys.
We welcome, in the infant mild,
The angels' precious pledge,
For heaven receive the little child
Into our tutelage.
Oh! break away the flakes of clay,
The indurated crust,
The slough and slíme of care and crime
That cling to human dust.
Already—look on him!—how fair
He is—how great—how good!
For now he breathes heaven's holy air,
And lives on angel's food.

Doctor Marianus
(in the highest, purest cell).
Here the prospect is free!
Here the spirit soars high!
Shapes floating upwards
Of females float by;
Midmost, all glorious,
Shining serene,
Crowned with the star-wreath,
I see Heaven's Queen!
[Enraptured.
Over earth to Thee is given
Empire! Let me in the free
Wide-spread tent of the blue heaven
See thy mystery.

433

Aid in man's heart what thou of good,
Of tender thought and earnest,
Of holy love, in his best mood
Up-breathed to thee, discernest!
Dost Thou command it? Ours is zeal
And courage all-defying.
Dost Thou breathe peace? At once we feel
The warlike impulse dying.
Virgin! from all soil of sin
Virgin pure! to Thee we bow;
Saintly Mother! chosen Queen,
One with the godlike Thou!
What light cloudlets round that splendour
Floating wind! Oh! these are they,
Who, for that the heart was tender,
Fondly loved and fell away:
Round her knees they drink the ether,
Round her knees for mercy pray.
Thy calm heart no breath hath shaken
Of earth's passions; yet to Thee
Come all they, who have partaken
Of earth's utter misery—
They, who loved and were forsaken
Come to Thee confidingly!

434

Oh! fond and weak and light are they,
And thus, by wild desires away
Whirled onward, who can save
Unaided? who can rend the prey
From passions that enslave?
The foot—oh! how can it but slide
On the slant surface—downward glide
Where the ground slopes beneath?
Whom doth not smile and glance deceive?
Who doth not listen and believe
When Flattery's accents breathe?

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.


435

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.


436

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).
Circled by the loftiest Spirits,
One with them, behold him rise!
Heaven he scarce hath breathed—in all things
With the holy host he vies.

437

From the old husk's earthly bondage,
How he rends himself away!
How his youth, renewed, rejoicing,
Steps forth, clothed upon with ether,
Radiant, into heavenly day!
Suffer me to teach, to guide him!
The new day falls dazzlingly.

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

Doctor Marianus
(adoring on his face).
Look to the Saviour-glance!
All that repentant be,
Made meet by grátitude
For the inheritance
Of full beátitude.
May each better feeling in
Our hearts to Thee still tend!
Maiden! Mother! Gracious Queen!
Be with us to the end!

Chorus Mysticus.
All we see before us passing
Sign and symbol is alone;

438

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.