Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Page 243
In rich profusion, fearless, he displays
The marvels upon which each longs to gaze.
Astrologer.
Scarcely the glowing key the censer nears,
When o’er the scene a misty shroud appears;
It creepeth in, cloudlike it onward glides,
Expands, upcurls, contracts, unites, divides.
Now recognize a spirit masterpiece:
The clouds make music; wonders never cease;
The airy tones, one knows not how, float by:
Where’er they move, there all is melody;
The pillar’d shaft, the very triglyph rings;
Yea, I believe that the whole temple sings!
The mist subsides; steps forth, in measur’d time,
From the light veil, a youth in beauty’s prime.
Silent mine office here; his name I need not show;
Who doth the gentle Paris fail to know!
First Lady.
O! In his youthful strength what lustrous grace!
Second Lady.
Fresh as a peach, and full of sap his face!
Third Lady.
The finely chisell’d, sweetly swelling lip!
Fourth Lady.
At such a beaker fain wert thou to sip?
Fifth Lady.
Though handsome, quite unpolish’d is his mien.
Sixth Lady.
A little more refin’d he might have been.
Knight.
The shepherd youth, methinks, in him I trace;
Naught of the prince or of the courtier’s grace!
Another Knight.
Half naked, fair the stripling seems to be;
But clad in armor him we first must see!
Lady.
Gently he seats himself, with easy grace.
Knight.
For you his lap were pleasant resting-place?
Another.
Lightly his arm he bendeth o’er his head.
Chamberlain.
That is not here allow’d. ’Tis under-bred!
Lady.
You gentlemen are always hard to please.
Chamberlain.
Before the Emperor to loll at ease!
Lady.
He only acts! He thinks himself alone.
Chamberlain.
The drama should be courtly near the throne.
Lady.
Gently hath sleep o’ercome the gracious youth.
Chamberlain.
He snoreth now; ’tis nature, perfect truth.
Young Lady.
(Enraptured.) What fragrance with the incense sweetly blends.
That to my inmost heart refreshment sends?
Older Lady.
A breath the soul pervades with gracious power!
From him it comes.
Oldest Lady.
Of growth it is the flower;
It like ambrosia from the youth distils,
And the whole atmosphere around him fills.
[Helenasteps forward.
Mephis.
Such then she was! She will not break my rest!
Fair, doubtless; but she is not to my taste.
Astrologer.
For me remains no further duty now,
As man of honor, this I must allow.
The fair one comes; and had I tongues of fire —
Beauty of old did many a song inspire —
Who sees her is enraptur’d; all too bless’d
Was he indeed by whom she was possess’d.
Faust.
Have I still eyes? Is beauty’s very spring,
Full gushing, to mine inmost sense reveal’d?
Most blessed gain doth my dread journey bring.
How blank to me the world, its depths unseal’d!
What is it since my priesthood’s solemn hour!
Enduring, firmly-bas’d, a precious dower!
Vanish from me of life the breathing power,
If, e’en in thought, I e’er from thee decline! —
The gracious form that raptur’d once my sight,
That in the magic mirror wak’d delight,
Was a foam-image to such charms as thine! —
’Tis thou, to whom as tribute now I bring
My passion’s depth, of every power the spring,
Love, adoration, madness, heart and soul!
Mephis.
(From the prompter’s box.)
Collect yourself, and fall not from your rôle!
Elderly Lady.
Tall and well-shap’d! Only too small the head.
Younger Lady.
Her foot! ’Tis clumsy if the truth were said.
Diplomatist.
Princesses of this kind I’ve seen; and she
From head to foot seems beautiful to me.
Courtier.
Softly she nears the sleeper, artful, shy.
Lady.
How hateful near that form of purity!
Poet.
He is illumin’d by her beauty’s sheen.
Lady.
Endymion! Luna! — ’Tis the pictur’d scene!
Poet.
Quite right! The goddess downward seems to sink;
O’er him she bends, his balmy breath to drink;
A kiss! — The measure’s full! — O envied youth!
Duenna.
Before the crowd — too bold that is, in sooth!
Faust.
A fearful favor to the boy! —
Mephis.
Be still!
And let the phantom do whate’er it will.
Courtier.
She steals away, light-footed; — he awakes.
Lady.
A backward glance, just as I thought, she takes!
Courtier.
He starts! ’Tis marvellous! he’s all amaze.
artist franz simm
FAUST. SECOND PART.
paris and helen
Lady.
To her no marvel is what meets her gaze.
Courtier.
To him with coy reserve she turneth now.
Lady.
She takes him into tutelage, it seems;
All men in such a case are fools, I trow;
Himself to be the first, he fondly dreams!
Knight.
Let me admire! Majestically fair —
Lady.
The courtezan! ’Tis vulgar, I declare!
Page.
Now in his place to be, full fain I were!
Courtier.
Who in such net would not be gladly caught?
Lady.
From hand to hand the jewel hath been pass’d;
The very gilding is worn off at last.
Another.
From her tenth year she hath been good for naught.
Knight.
Each takes the best that Fate to him hath sent:
With this fair ruin I were well content.
Learned Man.
Her I behold, yet to confess am free,
Doubts may arise, if she the right one be.
What’s present doth into extremes betray;
Cling closely to the letter, that’s my way;
I to what’s written turn, and there I read:
How she all Troya’s graybeards charm’d indeed.
How perfectly this tallies here, I see —
I am not young, and yet she pleases me.
Astrologer.
A boy no more! A man, heroic, brave,
He claspeth her, who scarce herself can save;
With stalwart arm aloft he raises her.
Thinks he to bear her off?
Faust.
Rash fool! Beware!
Thou darest! Hearest not! Forbear I say!
Mephis.
Why thou thyself dost make the phantom-play!
Astrologer.
Only one word! From what did her befall,
“The rape of Helena,” the piece I call.
Faust.
The rape! Count I for nothing here? This key,
Do I not hold it still within my hand?
Through dreary wastes, through waves, it guided me,
Through solitudes, here to this solid land;
Here is firm footing, here the actual, where
Spirit with spirits to contend may dare,
And for itself a vast, twin-realm prepare.
Far as she was, how can she be more near?
Sav’d, she is doubly mine! I’ll dare it! Hear,
Ye Mothers, Mothers, hear, and grant my quest!
Who once hath known, without her cannot rest!
Astrologer.
What dost thou? Faustus! Faustus! — Her with might,
He seizes; fades the phantom from the sight;
Towards the youth he turneth now the key,
He touches him! — Presto! alas! Woe’s me!
[Explosion, Faustlies upon the ground.
[The phantoms vanish in the air.
Mephis.
(Taking Faustupon his shoulders.) You have it now! With fools one’s self to burden,
May to the devil prove a sorry guerdon.
(Darkness. Tumult.)
ACT II.
High-vaulted, Narrow Gothic Chamber.
(Formerly Faust’s,unaltered.)
Mephis.
(Stepping from behind a curtain. While he raises it and looks back, Faustis seen, stretched upon an old-fashioned bed.)
Lie there, ill-starr’d one! In love’s chain,
Full hard to loose, he captive lies!
Not soon his senses will regain
Whom Helena doth paralyze.
[Looking round.
Above, around, on every side
I gaze, uninjur’d all remains:
Dimmer, methinks, appear the color’d panes,
The spiders’ webs are multiplied,
Yellow the paper, and the ink is dry;
Yet in its place each thing I find;
And here the very pen doth lie,
Wherewith himself Faust to the Devil sign’d,
Yea, quite dried up, and deeper in the bore,
The drop of blood, I lur’d from him of yore —
O’erjoy’d to own such specimen unique
Were he who objects rare is fain to seek; —
Here on its hook hangs still the old fur cloak,
Me it remindeth of that merry joke,
When to the boy I precepts gave, for truth,
Whereon, perchance, he’s feeding now, as youth.
The wish comes over me, with thee allied,
Envelop’d in thy worn and rugged folds,
Once more to swell with the professor’s pride!
How quite infallible himself he holds;
This feeling to obtain your savans know;
The devil parted with it long ago.
[He shakes the fur cloak which he has taken down; crickets, moths and chafers fly out.
Chorus of Insects.
We welcome thy coming,
Our patron of yore!
We’re dancing and humming,
And know thee once more.
Us singly, in silence,
Hast planted, and lo!
By thousands, O Father,
We dance to and fro.
The rogue hides discreetly
The bosom within;
We looseskins fly rather
Forth from the fur skin.
Mephis.
O’erjoy’d I am my progeny to know!
We’re sure to reap in time, if we but sow.
I shake the old fur-mantle as before,
And here and there outflutters one or more.
Above, around, hasten, beloved elves,
In hundred thousand nooks to hide yourselves!
‘Mid boxes there of bygone time,
Here in these age-embrowned scrolls,
In broken potsherds, foul with grime,
In yonder skulls’ now eyeless holes!
Amid such rotten, mouldering life,
Must foolish whims for aye be rife.
[Slips into the fur-mantle.
Come shroud my shoulders as of yore!
To-day I’m principal once more;
But useless ’tis, to bear the name:
Where are the folk to recognize my claim?
[He pulls the bell, which emits a shrill penetrating sound, at which the halls shake and the doors spring open.
Famulus.
(Tottering up the long dark passage.) What a clamor! What a quaking!
Stairs are rocking, walls are shaking:
Through the windows’ quivering sheen,
Are the stormful lightnings seen;
Springs the ceiling, — thence, below,
Lime and mortar rattling flow:
And, though bolted fast, the door
Is undone by magic power!
There, in Faust’s old fleece bedight,
Stands a giant, — dreadful sight!
At his glance, his beck, at me!
I could sink upon my knee.
Shall I fly, or shall I stay?
What will be my fate to-day!
Mephis.
Come hither, friend! — Your name is Nicodemus?
Famulus.
Most honor’d Sir, such is my name. — Oremus!
Mephis.
That we’ll omit.
Famulus.
joy, me you do not forget.
Mephis.
I know it well: old, and a student yet;
My mossy friend, even a learned man
Still studies on, because naught else he can:
Thus a card-house each builds of medium height;
The greatest spirit fails to build it quite.
Your master, though, that title well may claim —
The noble Doctor Wagner, known to fame,
First in the learned world! ’Tis he, they say,
Who holds that world together; every day
Of wisdom he augments the store!
Who crave omniscience, evermore
In crowds upon his teaching wait;
He from the rostrum shines alone;
The keys doth like Saint Peter own,
And doth of Hell and Heaven ope the gate;
As before all he glows and sparkles,
No fame, no glory but grows dim,
Even the name of Faustus darkles!
Inventor there is none like him.
Famulus.
Pardon, most honor’d Sir, excuse me, pray —
If I presume your utterance to gainsay —
This bears not on the question any way;
A modest mind is his allotted share.
The disappearance, unexplain’d as yet,
Of the great man, his mind doth sorely fret;
Comfort from his return and health are still his prayer.
The chamber, as in Doctor Faustus’ day,
Maintains, untouch’d, its former state,
And for its ancient lord doth wait.
Venture therein I scarcely may.
What now the aspect of the stars? —
Awe-struck the very walls appear;
The door-posts quiver’d, sprang the bars —
Else you yourself could not have enter’d here.
Mephis.
Where then bestow’d himself hath he?
Lead me to him! bring him to me!
Famulus.
Alas! Too strict his prohibition
Scarce dare I, without his permission.
Months, on his mighty work intent,
Hath he, in strict seclusion spent.
Most dainty ‘mong your men of books,
Like charcoal-burner now he looks,
With face begrim’d from ear to nose;
His eyes are blear’d, while fire he blows;
Thus for the crisis still he longs;
His music is the clang of tongs.
Mephis.
Admittance unto me deny?
To hasten his success, the man am I.
[Exit Famulus. Mephistophelesseats himself with a solemn air.
Scarce have I taken my post, when lo!
Stirs from behind a guest, whom well I know;
Of the most recent school, this time, is he,
And quite unbounded will his daring be.
Baccalaureus.
(Storming along the passage.) Open find I door and gate!
Hope at last springs up elate,
That the living shall no more
Corpse-like rot, as heretofore,
And, while breathing living breath,
Waste and moulder as in death.
Here partition, screen, and wall
Are sinking, bowing to their fall,
And, unless we soon retreat,
Wreck and ruin us will greet.
Me, though bold, nor soon afraid,
To advance shall none persuade.
What shall I experience next?
Years ago, when sore perplex’d,
Came I not a freshman here,
Full of anxious doubt and fear,
On these graybeards then relied,
By their talk was edified?
What from musty tomes they drew,
They lied to me; the things they knew
Believ’d they not; with falsehood rife,
Themselves and me they robb’d of life.
How? — Yonder in the murky glare,
There’s one still sitting in the chair —
Drawing near I wonder more —
Just as him I left of yore,
There he sits, in furry gown,
Wrapp’d in shaggy fleece, the brown!
Then he clever seem’d, indeed,
Him as yet I could not read;
Naught will it avail to-day;
So have at him, straight-away.
If Lethe’s murky flood not yet hath pass’d,
Old Sir, through your bald pate, that sideways bends,
The scholar recognize, who hither wends,
Outgrown your academic rods at last.
The same I find you, as of yore;
But I am now the same no more.
Mephis.
Glad am I that I’ve rung you here.
I priz’d you then not slightingly;
In grub and chrysalis appear
The future brilliant butterfly.
A childish pleasure then you drew
From collar, lace, and curls. — A queue
You probably have never worn? —
Now to a crop I see you shorn.
All resolute and bold your air —
But from the absolute forbear!
Baccalaureus.
We’re in the ancient place, mine ancient Sir,
But think upon time’s onward flow,
And words of double-meaning spare!
Quite otherwise we hearken now.
You fool’d the simple, honest youth;
It cost but little art in sooth,
To do what none to-day will dare.
Mephis.
If to the young the naked truth one speaks,
It pleases in no wise the yellow beaks;