The lamps which, half extinguish'd in their haste, Gleam'd few and faint o'er the abandon'd feast, Show'd as it were within the vaulted room A clond of sorrow hanging, as if toloom Had pass'd out of men's minds into the air. Some few yet stood around Gherardi there, Friends and relations of the dead, and he, A loveless man, accepted torpidly The consolation that he wanted not, -Awe in the place of grief within him wrought. Their whispers made the solemn silence seem More still—some wept, [ ] Some melted into tears without a sob, And some with hearts that might be heard to throb Leant on the table, and at intervals Shudder'd to hear through the deserted halls And corridors the thrilling shrieks which cane Upon the Dreeze of night, that shook the flame Of every torch and taper as it swept From out she chamber where the women kept;-Their tears fell on the dear companion cold Of pleasures now departed; then was knoll'd The bell of death, and soon the priests arrived, And finding death their penitent had shrived, Return'd like ravens from a corpse whereon A vulture has just feasted to the bone. And then the mourning women came.—

Tile diage.

Old winter was gone
In his weakness back to the mountains hoar,

And the spring came down
From the planet that hovers upon the shore
Where the sea of sunlight encroaches
On the limits of wintry night;
If the land, and the air, and the sea
Rejoice not when spring approaches,
We did not rejoice in thee,

Ginevra!
She is still, she is cold

On the bridal couch,

One step to the white death-bed,
And one to the bier,

And one to the charnel—and one, O where?

The dark arrow fled

In the noon. Fre the sun through heaven once more has roll'd, The rats in her heart Will have made their nest, And the worms be alive in her golden hair; While the spirit that guides the sun, Sits throned in his flaming chair,

She shall sleep.

Finst speaken. What thinkest thou of this quaint masque, which turns, Like morning from the shadow of the night, The night to day, and London to a place Of peace and joy? second speakEa. And Hell to Heaven. Eight years are gone, And they seem hours, since in this populous street I trod on grass made green by summer's rain, For the red plague kept state within that palace Where now reigns vanity—in nine years more The roots will be refresh'd with civil blood; And thank the mercy of insulted Heaven That sin and wrongs wound, as an orphan's cry, The patience of the great Avenger's ear. third speaken (a youth). Yet, father, "t is a happy sight to see, Beautiful, innocent, and unforbidden By God or man; –’t is like the bright procession Of skiey visions in a solemn dream From which men wake as from a paradise, And draw new strength to tread the thorns of life. If God be good, wherefore should this be evil? And if this be not evil, dost thou not draw Unseasonable poison from the flowers Which bloom so rarely in this barren world? O, kill these bitter thoughts, which make the present Dark as the future!— - - - - - - - - When avarice and tyranny, vigilant fear, And open-eyed conspiracy lie sleeping, As on Hell's threshold; and all gentle thoughts Waken te worship him who giveth joys With his own gift. second speak En. Ilow young art thou in this old age of time! How green in this grey world! Canst thou not think Of change in that low scene, in which thou art Not a spectator but an actor? [. J The day that dawns in fire will die in storms, Even though the noon be calm. My travel's done; Before the whirlwind wakes I shall have found My inn of lasting rest, but thou must still Be journeying on in this inclement air. - - - - - - - - Fiest speakea. That Is the Archbishop. second SPEARER. Rather say the Pope. London will be soon his Rome: he walks As if he trod upon the heads of men. He looks elate, drunken with blood and gold;Beside him moves the Babylonian woman Invisibly, and with her as with his shadow, . Mitred adulterer! he is join'd in sin, Which turns Heaven's milk of mercy to revenge. A Norhea citizen (lifting up his eyes). Good Lord! rain it down upon him. [ Amid her ladies walks the papist queen, As if her nice feet scorn'd our English earth. There's old Sir Ilenry Vane, the Earl of Pembroke, Lord Essex, and Lord Keeper Coventry, And others who make base their Euglish breed By vile participation of their honours

And its fore-written circle
Fulfills with a step of thunder.
Its countenance gives the Angols strength.
Though no oue can fathon it,
The incredible high works
Are excellent as at the first day.
---anirl.
And swift, and inconceivably swift
The adornment of earth winds itself round,
And exchanges Paradise-clearness
With deep dreadful night.
The sea foams in broad waves
From its deep bottom, up to the rocks.
And rocks and sea are torn on together
In the eternal swift course of the sphero.
-icin-i-L.
And storms roar in emulation
From sea to land, from land to sea
And make, raging, a chain
of deepest operation round about.
There flames a flashing destruction
Before the path of the hunderbolt.
But thy servants, Lord, rovere
The gentle alternations of thy day.
cino. 1'-
Thy countenance give, the Angel, strength.
Though none can comprehend lev:
And all thy losty works
Are excellent as at the first day.

The same old song i' the grass. There let him lie,
Burying his nose in every heap of dung.
the Lond.
Have you no more to say? Do you come here
Always to scold, and cavil, and complain
Seeins nothing ever right to you on earth?
airphistopneles.
No, Lord! I find all there, as ever, bad at best.
Even I am sorry for man's days of sorrow;
I could myself almost give up the pleasure
Of plaguing the poor things.
the Loft d.
Knowest thou Faust?
Mephistoph ELEs.
The Doctor *
The Lond.
Ay; my servant Faust.
MEPhIstoph Eles.
In truth
He serves you in a fashion quite his own ;
And the fool's meat and drink are not of earth.
His aspirations bear him on so far
That he is half aware of his own folly,
For he demands from Heaven its fairest star,
And from the earth the highest joy it bears:
Yet all things far, and all things near, are vain
To calm the deep emotions of his breast.
THE Lond.
Though he now serves me in a cloud of error,
I will soon lead him forth to the clear day.
When trees look green, full well the gardener knows
That fruits and blooms will deck the coming year.
MEP histoph ki.es.
What will you bet?—now I am sure of winning:
Only, observe you give me full permission
To lead him softly on my path.
the load.
As long
As he shall live upon the earth, so long
Is nothing unto thee forbidden—Man
Must err till he has ceased to struggle.
Mephistoph E. LEs.
Thanks.
And that is all I ask; for willingly
I never make acquaintance with the dead.
The full fresh cheeks of youth are food for me;
And if a corpse knocks, I am not at home.
For I am like a cat—I like to play
A little with the mouse before I eat it.
thr Lond.
Well, well! it is permitted thee. Draw thou
His spirit from its springs; as thou find'st power,
Seize him and lead him on thy downward path;
And stand ashamed when failure teaches thee
That a good man, even in his darkest longings,
ls well aware of the right way.
Mephistop tielts.
Well and good.
I am not in much doubt about my bet;
And if I lose, then 't is your turn to crow;
Enjoy your triumph then with a full breast.
Ay! dust shall he devour, and that with pleasure,
Like my old paramour, the famous Snake.
the lond.
Pray come here when it sui's you; for 1 never
Had much dislike for people of your sort.

And, among all the Spirits who rebell'd,
The knave was ever the least tedious to me.
The active spirit of man soon sleeps, and soon
He seeks unbroken quiet; therefore I
Have given him the Devil for a companion,
Who may provoke him to some sort of work,
And must create for ever.—But ye, pure
Children of God, enjoy eternal beauty;-
Let that which ever operates and lives
Clasp you within the limits of its love;
And seize with sweet and melancholy thoughts
The tloating phantoms of its loveliness.
[Heaven closes; the Archangels exeunt.
MEPhIstoph Elks.
From time to time I visit the old fellow,
And I take care to keep on good terms with him.
Civil enough is this same God Almighty,
To talk so freely with the Devil himself.

MAY-D.MY night. Scene—The Hartz Mountain, a desolate Country. FAUsr, Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles. Would you not like a broomstick? As for me, I wish I had a good stout ram to ride; For we are still far from th' appointed place. FAust. This knotted staff is help enough for me, Whilst I feel fresh upon my legs. What good Is there in making short a pleasant way? To creep along the labyrinths of the vales, And climb those rocks, where ever-babbling springs Precipitate themselves in waterfalls, Is the true sport that seasons such a path. Already Spring kindles the birchen spray, And the hoar pines already feel her breath: Shall she not work also within our limbs? Mephistophei.es. Nothing of such an influence do I feel: My body is all wintry, and I wish The flowers upon our path were frost and snow. But see, how melancholy rises now, Dimly uplifting her belated beam, The blank unwelcome round of the red moon, And tives so bad a light, that every step One stumbles 'gainst some crag. With your permission, I'll call an Ignis-fatuus to our aid; I see one yonder burning jollily. Halloo, my friend! may I request that you Would favour us with your bright company? Why should you blaze away there to no purpose? Pray be so good as light us up this way. Ignis-fatuous. With reverence be it spoken, I will try To overcome the lightness of my nature: Our course, you know, is generally zig-zag. MEPH is roph Eles. Ha, ha! your worship thinks you have to deal With men. Go straight on, in the Devil's name, Or I shall puff your flickering life out. 1GN is-FATuus. Well, I see you are the master of the house; I will accommodate myself to you.

one may co-e-o orde for soon | How Mammon goows arrot to mountino ---TAAnd stranges to the ess oriałoA melanchov lieut like the to do. *Shoots from the leves Ferre of ee eOf mountains, lightening other-art terms Pillars of smoke, here rivals float featio ty. Here the light burns soft as the trainied it. Or the illumined dust of ecoen flowers: And now it glides like tender cour* oration And now bursts forth in fountains from the art And now it winds, one torrent of broad to Through the far valley with a hundred vens, And now oncernore within that marrow comes Masses itself into intensest splendour. And near us, see, sparks spring out of the to Like golden sand scatter'd upon the darkne"; The pinnacles of that black wall of mountain" That hems usin, are kindled. -EPaistoririts. Rare, in fush' Does not Sir Mammon gloriously illuminate His palace for this festival—it is A pleasure which you had not known before I spy the boisterous guests already. ratost. how The children of the wind rage in the air! With what fierce strokes they fall upon my mech' airplatstopsit. E5. Cling tightly to the old ribs of the crag. Beware for if with them thou warrest In their fierce flight towards the wildernes, Their breath will sweep thee into dust, and do Thy body to a grave in the abyss. A cloud thickens the night. Hark! how the tempest crashes through theo The owls fly out in strange affright; The columns of the evergreen palace Are split and shatter'd : The roots creak, and stretch, and groan: And ruinously overthrown, The trunks are crush'd and shatterd By the fierce blast's unconquerable stro" over each other crack and crash thes". In terrible and interiangled fall; And through the ruins of the shaken "* The airs hiss and howl— It is not the voice of the fountain, Nor the wolf in his midnight prowl Dost thou not hear? Strange accents are ringing Aloft, afar, aneur; The witches are singing! The torrent of a raging wirard * Streams the whole mountain along chonus or witches. The stubble is yellow, the corn is green, Now to the brocken the witches go; The mighty multitude here may be seen Gathering, wizard and witch, below.

Sir Urean is sitting aloft in the air;
Hey over stock! and hey over stone!
"Twixt witches and incubi, what shall be done?
Tell it who dare' tell it who dare'
A wonde.
Upon a sow-swine, whose farrows were nine,
Old Baubo rideth alone.
chorus.
Honour her, to whom honour is due,
Old mother Baubo, honour to you!
An able sow, with old Baubo upon her,
Is worthy of glory, and worthy of honour!
The legion of witches is coming behind,
Darkening the night, and outspeeding the wind–
A voice.
Which way comest thou?
A Voice.
Over Ilsenstein.
The owl was awake in the white moonshine:
I saw her at rest in her downy nest,
And she stared at me with her broad, bright eye.
voices.
And you may now as well take your course on to Hell,
Since you ride by so fast on the headlong blast.
A voice.
She dropp'd poison upon me as I past.
Here are the wounds——
chonus of witches.
Come away! come along !
The way is wide, the way is long,
But what is that for a Bedlam throng?
Stick with the prong, and scratch with the broom,
The child in the cradle lies strangled at home,
And the mother is clapping her hands.
SEMi-chorus of wizards t.
We glide in
Like snails when the women are all away;
And from a house once given over to sin
Woman has a thousand steps to stray.
sent-choaus in.
A thousand steps must a woman take,
Where a man but a single spring will make.
worces above.
Come with us, come with us, from Felunsee.
voices below.
With what joy would we fly through the upper sky!
... We are wash'd, we are 'nointed, stark naked are we;
But our toil and our pain are for ever in vain.
Both chorusses.
The wind is still, the stars are fled,
The melancholy moon is dead;
The magic notes, like spark on spark,
Drizzle, whistling through the dark.
Come away!
voices below.
Stay, oh stay!
voices Above.
Out of the crannies of the rocks
Who calls?
voices aellow.
Oh, let me join your flocks!
I, three hundred years have striven
To catch your skirt and mount to Heaven,
And still in vain. Oh, might I be
With company akin to me!

both chorusses. Some on a ram and some on a prong, On poles and on broomsticks we flutter along; Forlorn is the wight who can rise not to-night. A to Alf-witch below. I have been tripping this many an hour : Are the others already so far before? No quiet at home, and no peace abroad! And less methinks is found by the road. chorus of witches. Come onward away! aroint thee, aroint! A witch to be strong must anoint—anoint— Then every trough will be boat enough; With a rag for a sail we can sweep through the sky— Who flies not to-night, when means he to fly? Both chorusses. We cling to the skirt, and we strike on the ground; Witch-legions thicken around and around: Wizard-swarms cover the heath all over. [They descend. Mephistophelks. What thronging, dashing, raging, rustling; What whispering, babbling, hissing, bustling; What glimmering, spurting, stinking, burning, As Heaven and Earth were overturning. There is a true witch element about us! Take hold on me, or we shall be divided:– Where are you? Faust (from a distance). Here! Mephistopheles. What 7 I must exert my authority in the house! Place for young Voland—Pray make way, good people. Take hold on me, Doctor, and with one step Let us escape from this unpleasant crowd: They are too mad for people of my sort. Just there shines a peculiar kind of light— Something attracts me in those bushes. Come This way: we shall slip down there in a minute. Faust. Spirit of Contradiction! Well, lead on— 'T were a wise feat indeed to wander out Into the brocken upon May-day night, And then to isolate oneself in scorn, Disgusted with the humours of the time. nephistop tieles. See yonder, round a many-colour'd flame A merry club is huddled altogether: Even with such little people as sit there, One would not be alone. Faust. Would that I were Up yonder in the glow and whirling smoke, Where the blind million rush impetuously To meet the evil ones; there might I solve Many a riddle that torments me! niephistopheles. Yet Many a riddle there is tied anew Inextricably. Let the great world rage! We will stay here safe in the quiet dwellings. "T is an old custom. Men have ever built Their own small world in the great world of all. I see young witches naked there, and old ones Wisely attired with greater decency.