Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Page 245
[Withdraws.
The Aerial Travellers above.
Homunculus.
O’er the horror weird and blazing,
Wing once more your circling flight;
Down on vale and hollow gazing,
All phantasmal is the sight.
Mephis.
Hideous ghosts, as through the casement
Old, ‘mid northern waste and gloom,
I behold, — without amazement, —
Here as there I am at home!
Homunculus.
Swiftly, there, before us striding,
Mark yon tall, retreating shade!
Mephis.
Seeing us through ether gliding,
Troubled seems she, and afraid.
Homunculus.
Let her stride! Set down thy burden, —
Him, thy Knight; — the while I speak,
Life to him returns, the guerdon,
He in fable-land doth seek.
Faust.
(Touching the ground.) Where is she?
Homunculus.
That I cannot say,
But here perchance inquire for her you may.
Till breaks the dawn, with speed, do thou,
From fire to fire, still seeking, wend;
He nothing more need fear, I trow,
Who, to the Mothers, ventur’d to descend.
Mephis.
My part to play, I also claim;
And for our weal naught better know,
Than that, forthwith, from flame to flame,
Seeking his own adventures each should go.
Then us once more to re-unite,
Show, little friend, thy sounding light!
Homunculus.
Thus shall it sound, thus glitter too!
[The glass rings, and emits a powerful light.
And now away to marvels new!
Faust.
(Alone.) Where is she? — Now no further question make! . . .
If this were not the sod, her form that bare,
This not the wave that brake to welcome her,
Yet ’tis the air, that once her language spake!
Here! through a wonder, here on Grecian land!
I felt at once the soil whereon I stand:
As me, the sleeper, a new spirit fired,
An Antæus in heart, I rise inspir’d.
Assembled here objects most strange I find.
Searching, through this flame-labyrinth I’ll wind.
[He retires.
Mephis.
(Prying around.) As I these little fires still wander through,
I find myself a stranger everywhere;
Quite naked most, some shirted here and there:
The Sphinxes shameless, and the Griffins too,
And winged things, with tresses, hurrying past,
Before, behind, within mine eye are glass’d . . .
At heart indecent are we, truth to speak,
Yet all too life-like find I the Antique;
It by the modern mind must be controll’d,
And overgloss’d, in fashions manifold. . . .
A crew repulsive! Yet, a stranger guest,
In courteous phrase be my salute express’d. . . .
All hail! ye beauteous ladies, graybeards wise!
Griffin.
(Snarling.) Not Graybeards — Griffins! It the temper tries
To hear one’s self styled gray. In every word
Some echo of its origin is heard:
Grim, grievous, grizzl’d, grimy, graveyards, gray,
In etymology accord, and they
Still put us out of tune.
Mephis.
Yet all the same,
The “Gri” contents you in your honor’d name.
Griffin.
(As above.) Of course! For the alliance prov’d may be,
Oft blam’d indeed, but prais’d more frequently.
Let each one gripe at beauty, empire, gold,
Fortune still aids the Griper if he’s bold.
Ants.
(Of the colossal kind.) Of gold ye speak. Thereof we much had stor’d,
And pil’d in rocks and caves our secret hoard;
The Arimaspians found it, bore it off —
So far away that now at us they scoff.
Griffin.
We’ll bring them straightway to confession.
Arimaspian.
Not on this night of jubilee!
Ere morning, all will squander’d be;
For this time we retain possession.
Mephis.
(Who has seated himself between the Sphinxes.) How soon, well-pleas’d, I grow familiar here!
I understand them, man by man.
Sphinx.
Our spirit-tones into your ear
We breathe, embody them you can.
Until we know thee better, tell thy name.
Mephis.
Full many a title I ‘mong men may claim.
Are Britons here? They travel far to trace
Renowned battlefields, and waterfalls,
Old musty classic sites, and ruin’d walls.
A worthy goal for them this very place;
Of me their ancient plays would testify;
I there was seen as Old Iniquity.
Sphinx.
How came they upon that?
Mephis.
I know not.
Sphinx.
That may be.
To read the starry volume hast thou power?
What sayest to the aspect of the hour?
Mephis.
(Looking up.) Star shooteth after star, bright the shorn moon doth shine,
And I’m content this cozy place within;
I warm myself against thy lion’s skin.
Aloft to climb were hurtful, I opine.
Propose some riddles, some charades! — Begin!
Sphinx.
Thyself declare, a riddle that indeed.
Only essay thine inmost self to read:
“Needful to pious, as to bad men found;
Armor to those, ascetic fence to test,
Comrade to these, in every desperate quest.
And both alike to Zeus, a merry jest.”
First Griffin.
(Snarling.) I like him not!
Second Griffin.
(Snarling more loudly.)
What wants he here?
Both.
The brute belongs not to this sphere!
Mephis.
(Brutally.) Thou thinkest, maybe, that the stranger’s nail,
To scratch with, like thy talons, can’t avail?
Let’s try, forthwith!
Sphinx.
(Mildly.) Here thou mayst ever dwell;
But from our midst thyself wilt soon expel.
In thine own land art wont thyself to please.
If I mistake not, here thou’rt ill at ease.
Mephis.
Enticing art thou, when above descried;
But with the beast below, I’m horrified.
Sphinx.
Thou false one, thou shalt bitterly repent:
These paws are sound: but as for thee,
With thy shrunk hoof thou’rt not content,
It seems, in our society.
Sirens.
(Preluding above.)
Mephis.
What birds are those, on poplar bough
Swinging, the river banks along?
Sphinx.
Beware! the noblest have ere now
Been master’d by the Sirens’ song!
Sirens.
Ah! Misguided one, why linger,
‘Mid these hideous wonders dwelling!
Cometh each melodious singer; —
Hark! our choral notes are swelling,
As beseems the Siren-throng.
Sphinxes.
(Mocking them in the same melody.)
Force them downward, hither faring;
‘Mid the boughs themse
lves concealing,
They to seize you are preparing:
Ugly falcon-claws revealing,
If ye hearken to their song.
Sirens.
Envy, Hate, avaunt ye! Listen!
All the brightest joys that glisten,
‘Neath the sky, assemble we!
Now with joy in every feature,
Hail we gladly every creature,
On the earth or in the sea!
Mephis.
Dainty novelties, — there ring
From the throat, and from the string
Tones that sweetly interweave.
Trills on me away are thrown;
Tickle they mine ear alone,
But untouch’d my heart they leave.
Sphinxes.
Speak not of hearts, for, I believe,
A leathern wallet in its place,
Shrivell’d, would better suit thy face.
Faust.
(Entering.) The spectacle contents me; — wondrous creatures,
Ill-favor’d, yet with large and stalwart features.
E’en now, I augur an auspicious fate;
Whither doth me that earnest glance translate?
[Pointing to the Sphinxes.
Once before such took Œdipus his stand;
[Pointing to the Sirens.
Writhed before such Ulyss in hempen band?
[Pointing to the Ants.
By such the mightiest treasure was upstor’d.
[Pointing to the Griffins.
With true and faithful watch, these kept the hoard.
I feel new life my being penetrate;
Great are the forms, the memories are great!
Mephis.
Once thou such shapes had scouted, now
Thou seemest friendly to their kind;
E’en monsters welcome are, I trow,
To him who would the lov’d one find.
Faust.
(To the Sphinxes.) Ye women shapes, straight must ye answer me:
Hath one of you chanc’d Helena to see?
Sphinx.
We reach not to her day; the last was slain
By Hercules; some tidings thou mayst gain
From Chiron, canst thou him detain.
Round on this ghostly night he doth career;
If he will answer thee, thy goal is near.
Sirens.
Thou, for certain, shalt not fail! . . .
When Ulysses, with us whiling,
Sped not forward, unreviling,
He hath told us many a tale.
All to thee we would confide,
If ‘midst Ocean’s purple tide,
To our seats thou wouldst repair.
Sphinx.
Noble one, their guile beware!
As Ulysses to the mast, —
Thee let our good counsel bind.
Canst thou noble Chiron find,
Thy desire wilt gain at last.
[Exit Faust.
Mephis.
(Peevishly.) What croaks, on pinions rushing by?
So swiftly they elude the eye,
In single file they hurrying fly;
The hunter they would tire, I ween.
Sphinx.
Like storm of wintry tempest, these,
Scarce reach Alcides’ arrows keen —
They are the swift Stymphalides;
Their croaking too is kindly meant,
With foot of goose and vulture beak;
To mingle in our sphere they seek,
Their cousinship to prove intent.
Mephis.
(Scared.) There whiz some other forms of ill —
Sphinx.
For fear of these you need not quake:
These are the heads of the Lernæan snake,
Shorn from the trunk, and think they’re something still.
But say what meaneth this distress?
This troubled air, this restlessness?
Where would you go? Be off, I say!
The group, that yonder meets mine eye,
Leads you to turn your neck awry.
Be not constrain’d! Begone! Away!
And greet full many a visage fair!
The Lamiæ, wantons sly, are there,
With forehead bold, and winning smile,
As they the Satyr-race beguile:
With them the goat’s foot all may dare.
Mephis.
You’ll stay, that I may find you here again.
Sphinx.
Yea! mingle with the airy train!
From Egypt we the custom own,
That each a thousand years should keep her throne.
And to our place, if due respect ye pay,
We rule the lunar, rule the solar day.
We, the Pyramids before,
Sit for judgment of the nations,
War and peace and inundations —
Change our features never more.
Peneios.
Surrounded by waters and Nymphs.
Peneios.
Sedgy whispers, gently flow;
Sister reeds breathe faint and low;
Willows lightly rustle ye,
Lisp each trembling poplar-tree,
To my interrupted dream!
Wakens me a tempest drear;
From my rest a trembling fear
Scares me, ‘neath my flowing stream.
Faust.
(Approaching the stream.)
By mine ear I must believe,
Where these arbors interweave
Bush and bough, there breathes around,
As of human voice the sound;
Prattling seems each wave to play,
And the breeze keeps holiday.
Nymphs.
(To Faust.)
Oh, best were it for thee,
Way-weary and sore,
In coolness reclining,
Thy limbs to restore; —
The rest thus enjoying
That from thee doth flee;
We rustle, we murmur,
We whisper to thee!
Faust.
Yes, I’m awake! Let them have sway,
These peerless shapes, as in their play
Follows mine eye, in eager quest.
How strange the feeling! What are these?
Dreams are they? Are they memories?
Already once wert thou so bless’d.
Athwart thick-woven copse and bush
Still waters glide; — they do not rush,
Scarcely they rustle as they flow:
From every side their currents bright
A hundred crystal springs unite,
And form a sloping bath below.
Young nymphs, whose limbs of graceful mould,
The gazer’s raptur’d eyes behold,
Are in the liquid mirror glass’d!
Bathing with joyance all-pervading,
Now boldly swimming, shyly wading,
With shout and water-fight at last.
Contented might I be with these,
Mine eye be charm’d with what it sees;
Yet to yon covert’s leafy screen
My yearning glance doth forward press,
The verdant wealth of whose recess
Shrouds from my gaze the lofty queen.
Most wonderful! Swans now draw near;
Forth from the bays their course they steer,
Oaring with majestic grace;
Floating, tenderly allied,
But with self-complacent pride,
Head and beak they move apace!
But one seems before the rest,
Joyfully the wave to breast,
artist: franz simm.
FAUST. SECOND PART.
faust mounted on chiron.
Sailing swift, without a peer;
Swells his plumage, wave on wave,
That the answering flood doth lave; —
He the hallow’d spot doth near. . . .
Now the others swim together,
<
br /> To and fro, with shining feather;
Soon in splendid strife, they scare
All the timid maids away;
That, from duty swerving, they
For themselves alone may care.
Nymphs.
Sisters, hearken, lay your ear
To the water’s grassy bound!
Ringeth, if I rightly hear,
As of horse’s hoof the sound.
Would I knew, who on this night,
Message bears in rapid flight.
Faust.
As it seems, the earth indeed
Echoes ‘neath a hurrying steed.
Yonder turns my glance!
Can such blessed chance
Wait upon me here?
Marvel without peer!
Hither a rider swift doth scour —
Endow’d with spirit and with power —
Borne by a snow-white steed is he. . . .
I err not, him I seek is found —
Of Philyra the son renown’d! —
Halt! Chiron! Halt! I’d speak with thee. . . .
Chiron.
How now! what would’st thou?
Faust.
Thy course arrest!
Chiron.
I pause not.
Faust.
Take me with thee; grant my quest!
Chiron.
Mount! So I can inquire, as on we fare,
Whither art bound? Thou standest on the banks;
Prepar’d I am, thee through the stream to bear.
Faust.
(Mounting.) Where’er thou wilt. Have evermore my thanks. . . .
The mighty man, the pedagogue of old
Whose fame it was, a hero-race to mould:
The noble Argonauts, with all their peers,
Who form’d the poet’s world, in bygone years —
Chiron.
That pass we over! Pallas’ self indeed
As Mentor is not honor’d; to my thought,
All, in the end, in their own way proceed,
As though, in sooth, they never had been taught.
Faust.
The leech who names each plant, who knows
All roots, e’en that which deepest grows,
Wounds who assuageth, sickness who doth chase,
In mind and body’s strength I here embrace —
Chiron.
Were hero wounded on the field,
Counsel and aid I could impart;
But, in the end, to priests I yield,
And women-herbalists my healing art.
Faust.
In thee the truly great man speaks,
To words of praise who stops his ears;
Who acts, while privacy he seeks,
As were he one of many peers.
Chiron.
Well skill’d thou seemest, to beguile
People and prince with glozing wile.
Faust.
At least by thee ‘twill be confess’d, —
The greatest of thy time hast seen, the best;
Hast with the noblest vied, in earnest strife,
And liv’d of demigods the arduous life!
But ‘mong those figures of heroic mould,
In virtue whom pre-eminent didst hold?