Pardon; no words of fine address I know, Nor could, though all should hoot me down with sneers; I only see how men must fret their lives away. The little god o' the world jogs and jogs on, the same As when from ruddy clay he took his name; And, sooth to say, remains a riddle, just As much as when you shaped him from the dust. Perhaps a little better he had thriven, Had he not got the show of glimmering light from heaven: He calls it reason, and it makes him free To be more brutish than a brute can be; He is, methinks, with reverence of your grace, Like one of the long-legged race Of grasshoppers that leap in the air, and spring, And straightway in the grass the same old song they sing; 'Twere well that from the grass he never rose, On every stubble he must break his nose! THE LORD.-Hast thou then nothing more to say? To vent thy grudge in peevish spite Against the earth, still finding nothing right? MEPHISTOPHELES.-True, Lord; I find things there no better than before; I must confess I do deplore Man's hopeless case, and scarce have heart myself To torture the poor miserable elf. THE LORD.-Dost thou know Faust? MEPHISTOPHELES.— THE LORD. The Doctor? Ay: my servant. MEPHISTOPHELES.-Indeed! and of his master's will observant, In fashion quite peculiar to himself; His food and drink are of no earthly taste, A restless fever drives him to the waste. Himself half seems to understand How his poor wits have run astrand; From heaven he asks each loveliest star, Earth's chiefest joy must jump to his demand, Soothes not his deep-moved spirit's war. THE LORD.-Though for a time he blindly grope his way, Well knows the gardener, when green shoots appear, That bloom and fruit await the ripening year. MEPHISTOPHELES.-What wager you? you yet shall lose that soul! Only give me full license, and you'll see How I shall lead him softly to my goal. THE LORD.-As long as on the earth he lives Thou hast my license full and free; Man still must stumble while he strives. The bloom of lusty life, with plump and rosy cheeks; I do just as the cat does with the mice. THE LORD.-So be it; meanwhile, to tempt him thou are free; Go, drag this spirit from his native fount, And lead him on, canst thou his will surmount, Into perdition down with thee; But stand ashamed at last, when thou shalt see An honest man, 'mid all his strivings dark, Finds the right way, though lit but by a spark. MEPHISTOPHELES.-Well, well; short time will show; into my net I'll draw the fish, and then I've won my bet; I never hated much thee or thy kind; Of all the spirits that deny, The clever rogue sins least against my mind. For, in good sooth, the mortal generation, When a soft pillow they may haply find, Enclasp you round with love's embrace benign, In a great Lord 'tis surely wondrous civil FAUST ACT FIRST Scene I.-Night Faust discovered sitting restless at his desk, in a narrow highvaulted Gothic chamber. FAUST.-There now, I've toiled my way quite through And, to my sorrow, also thee, And here I stand, poor human fool, I lead by the nose: and this I know, No scruples nor doubts in my bosom dwell, From spirit's might and mouth to draw, That I no more, with solemn show, And cheat my thought with words no more. On me thy sad familiar light! Oh, that beneath thy friendly ray, On peaky summit I might stray, Round mountain caves with spirits hover, Broken glass, and crazy chair, Dust and brittleness everywhere; This is thy world, a world for a man's soul to breathe in! And ask I still why in my breast, My heart beats heavy and oppressed? And why some secret unknown sorrow Freezes my blood, and numbs my marrow? |