Chiron.
In the high circle of the Argonauts,
Each valiant was in fashion of his own,
And, by the virtue which inspir’d his thoughts,
Where others fail’d, he could suffice alone;
The Dioscuri ever did prevail
Where youthful bloom and beauty turn’d the scale;
Resolve, prompt deeds for others’ welfare, these
The portion fair of the Boreades;
Reflective, wary, strong, in council wise,
So Jason lorded, dear to woman’s eyes.
Then Orpheus, tender, contemplative still; —
Smote he the lyre, all own’d his wondrous skill.
Lynceus, through rocks and shoals, who, keen of sight,
Guided the holy ship, by day and night.
In fellowship is danger fronted best,
Where one achieves, extoll’d by all the rest.
Faust.
Of Hercules to me wilt naught impart?
Chiron.
Alas! wake not the longing in my heart. . . .
Never had Phœbus met my gaze,
Ares, or Hermes, — such their name;
When, as divine what all men praise
Before my raptured vision came!
A monarch born, in youth array’d
With glorious beauty; homage due
He to his elder brother paid,
And to the loveliest women too;
His second bears not Mother Earth,
Nor Hebe leads to heaven again;
Song strives in vain to tell his worth,
Tortur’d is marble too, in vain!
Faust.
To give such form to mortal ken
The sculptor’s boasted power is weak.
The fairest hast portray’d of men,
Now of the loveliest woman speak!
Chiron.
What! Woman’s beauty! Empty phrase,
Too oft an image void of life;
The being only can I praise,
Joy-giving and with gladness rife.
For Beauty in herself is bless’d;
Grace makes resistless, where possess’d,
Like Helena, whom once I bare.
Faust.
Her thou hast borne?
Chiron.
Yea! On this back.
Faust.
Was I not ‘mazed enough? Alack!
And now such seat must bless me!
Chiron.
By my hair
Me hath she grasp’d, as thou dost now.
Faust.
I lose myself! Oh, tell me, how?
She is in truth my sole desire!
Her, whence and whither didst thou bear?
Chiron.
Easy to tell what you require.
Their little sister, then the robbers’ prey,
The Dioscuri had redeem’d; but they, —
The ravishers, not wont to be subdu’d,
Took courage, and with stormful rage pursu’d;
The brothers, with their sister, urg’d their way
Towards the marsh, that near Eleusis lay:
The brothers waded; plashing, over it I swam;
Then off she sprang, and fondly press’d
My mane, all dripping; self-possess’d,
She sooth’d and thank’d, with sweet reserve and coy!
How charming was she! Young, of eld the joy!
Faust.
Just seven years old. . . .
Chiron.
The philologues, I see,
As they themselves deceiv’d, so have they thee.
Unique, in sooth, your mythologic dame:
After his pleasure her the poet shows;
Forever young, old age she never knows;
Her figure, love-inspiring, aye the same;
Ravish’d when young, courted when youth is flown —
Enough, no bonds of time the poets own.
Faust.
So let her also by no time be bound!
At Pheræ by Achilles she was found
Beyond time’s limits — happiness how rare!
In spite of destiny, love triumph’d there;
And should I not, with powerful longing rife,
Draw forth that matchless figure into life,
The deathless being, born of gods the peer,
Tender as great, sublime yet ever dear?
Thou saw’st her once, whom I to-day have seen,
Charming as fair, fair as desir’d, I ween!
Enthrall’d is my whole being, heart and brain;
I cease to live, unless I her obtain!
Chiron.
Stranger! Thou art enraptur’d, as men deem;
Yet among spirits, brain-struck thou dost seem.
’Tis well this madness hath assail’d thee here,
Since, only for some moments, every year,
My wont it is to Manto to repair;
She, Æsculapius’ child, in silent prayer
Implores her sire, who honor thus would gain,
Now to illumine the physicians’ brain,
That from rash death-strokes they henceforth refrain —
To me the dearest of the Sibyl’s guild,
Not wildly mov’d, with helpful kindness fill’d;
After a brief delay, thy perfect cure,
Through power of simples, can her art secure.
Faust.
But cured I would not be! My mind is strong!
Then were I abject like the vulgar throng!
Chiron.
Scorn not the healing of the noble fount.
We now are at the place; with speed, dismount.
Faust.
Whither, upon this night, with horror fraught,
Me, through the pebbly stream, to land hast brought?
Chiron.
Here Rome and Hellas madly spurn’d in fight,
(Olympus left, Peneios to the right,)
The mightiest realm that e’er in sand was lost;
The monarch flies, triumphs the burgher host.
Look up! Here stands, significantly near,
The fane eternal, bath’d in moonlight clear.
Manto.
(Dreaming within.)
Horse-hoofs shake the air,
Rings the sacred stair,
Demigods draw near.
Chiron.
Right! Open but thine eyes! I’m here!
Manto.
(Awaking.) Welcome! Thou hast not fail’d, I see.
Chiron.
Still stands thy temple-home for thee!
Manto.
Unwearied roam’st thou far and wide?
Chiron.
In quiet dost thou aye abide,
While I in ceaseless change delight?
Manto.
I wait, time circles me. — This wight?
Chiron.
Him hath this ill-reputed night
Caught in its whirl, and hither brought.
Helen, with mind and sense distraught,
Helen, he for himself would win,
But how and where he knows not to begin;
Worthy is he thy healing art to prove.
Manto.
Who the impossible desires, I love.
[Chironis already far away.
Enter, bold man, be joy thy meed!
This gloomy path to Proserpine doth lead.
She at Olympus’ hollow foot
Doth lurk for unallow’d salute.
In bygone time I Orpheus smuggled here;
Do thou fare better! Forward! Do not fear!
[They descend.
The Upper Peneios, as before.
Sirens.
Plunge into Peneios’ flood!
There beseems to swim rejoicing,
Song on song in chorus voicing,
For the unhallow’d people’s good.
Without water health is none!
In bright bands to the Ægean,
Speed we now with
sounding pæan;
Every joy will then be won.
[Earthquake.
Back the foaming wave is rushing,
In its bed it flows no more;
Quakes the earth, the floods are gushing,
Bursting smokes the pebbly shore.
Let us fly! Come, every one!
Bodes this marvel good to none.
Hence! each noble, joyous guest,
Seaward to our gladsome fest,
Where the wavelets’ glittering band
Lightly swelling, lave the strand;
There where Luna, mirror’d true,
Moistens us with holy dew!
There is life’s unfetter’d motion —
Here an earthquake’s dire commotion!
Hence! Ye wise ones, fly apace!
Horror reigneth in this place.
Seismos.
(Bellowing and blustering in the depths.) Once more heave with might and main,
With the shoulders bravely strain:
So the upper world we gain,
Where to us must all things bend!
Sphinx.
What a most unpleasant quaking,
Hideous storm-blast, awe-awaking!
What a heaving, what a throe,
Surging, swaying, to and fro!
Horror not to be endur’d!
But our post we’ll not forsake,
Though all Hell were loose to break.
Now uprears itself a dome,
Wonderful. With age long hoar,
He it is who built of yore
Delos’ isle amid the foam,
Heaving it from out the sea,
For her, a mother soon to be;
Striving, pressing, upward-tending,
Arms wide-stretching, back low-bending,
Atlas-like, amid the surf
Shale he raises, grass and turf,
Pebbles, gravel, loam and sand,
Tranquil cradle of our strand:
Crosswise, he a track did wrest
From the valley’s tranquil vest:
Caryatid, of giant mould,
He, with strength that ne’er grows old,
Bears, half buried, earth his zone,
A huge scaffolding of stone —
But his course must here be stay’d!
Sphinxes here their stand have made.
Seismos.
That have I wrought, myself alone,
This will mankind at last declare;
Had I not shaken, and upthrown,
How had the world been now so fair?
Into the pure ethereal blue,
Their crests how should you mountains raise,
Had I not heav’d them forth to view,
To charm the painter’s raptur’d gaze,
What time (my sires meanwhile surveying,
Chaos and Night), myself I bare
Stoutly, and, with the Titans playing,
Pelion and Ossa toss’d like balls in air?
Madly we rag’d, by youthful heat possess’d,
Till, fairly wearied out at last,
With malice, on Parnassus’ crest,
We, like twin-caps both mountains cast. . . .
There with the Muses’ hallowed choir,
Apollo finds a glad retreat;
For Zeus too, and his bolts of fire,
I rais’d aloft his glorious seat.
So now, have I, with direful strain,
Press’d from the depths to upper air,
And joyous dwellers call amain
New life henceforth with me to share.
Sphinxes.
Primeval had been deem’d, I trow,
What here hath struggled into birth,
Had we ourselves not witness’d how
It tore itself from out the earth.
Now upwards bushy groves themselves extend,
Rocks pressing upon rocks still forward tend;
Yet not for this shall any sphinx retreat:
Untroubled we retain our sacred seat.
Griffins.
Gold in leaflets, gold in flitters,
Through the crannies how it glitters;
Let none rob you of the prize —
Up! to seize it, Emmets, rise!
Chorus of Ants.
Giants, the light to greet,
Upward aspiring
Hurl’d it; with pattering feet
Climb, never tiring!
Nimbly press out and in!
Each cleft is screening
(Seek ye each crumb to win),
Gold worth the gleaning;
Even the least of all
Must ye uncover;
Haste, in each cranny small
Gold to discover.
Swarmers, in quest of pelf
Toil without leisure!
Heed not the hill itself;
Gather the treasure!
Griffins.
In with it; pile the golden heap!
Upon it we our claws will lay;
Bolts of the surest fashion, they
The greatest treasure safe will keep.
Pigmies.
We a footing here have got,
How it chanc’d, doth not appear;
Whence we issued, question not;
Once for all we’re settled here!
Seat for merry life doth yield,
Every country, every land;
Is a rocky cleft reveal’d,
There the dwarf is straight at hand;
Dwarf and dwarfess, model pair,
Swiftly each its labor plies.
Know I cannot if it were
So before in Paradise;
Here all find we for the best,
So our stars we thank; for still,
Mother Earth, in east and west,
Bringeth forth with right good will.
Dactyls.
Hath she, in a single night
Brought these tiny ones to light,
She the smallest will create;
Each forthwith will find his mate.
Eldest of the Pigmies.
Hasten, make ready,
Prompt be, and steady!
Swift to the deed!
Let strength be for speed!
Peace still is reigning;
Build uncomplaining
The smithy, to burnish
Armor, and furnish
All war’s belongings
Now for the host!
Ants in swift throngings,
Busily post; —
Metals procure, and you,
Dactyls, a tiny crew,
Yet an unnumber’d band,
Hear our command;
Wood bring with speed!
Flamelets in secret heap;
Them still alive to keep,
Coals too we need!
Generalissimo.
With arrow and bow
Now march on the foe:
The herons that o’er
Yon fish-pond now soar,
Numberless nesting,
Haughtily breasting,
Shoot altogether,
That so we may
With helm and feather
Ourselves array!
Ants and Dactyls.
Deliverance is vain!
The iron we bring,
They forge the chain;
Our freedom to wring
’Tis not yet the hour:
Crouch then to their power!
The Cranes of Ibycus.
Cry of murder, dying, wailing!
Wing-strokes, anguish’d, unavailing!
What lament, what agony,
Pierces to our realms on high!
All are murder’d now; the water,
Red with blood, betrays the slaughter;
Wanton lust of ornament
Hath the heron’s plumage shent:
See it o’er the helmet wave
Of each greasy, crook-legg’d knave!
Comrades of our army, ye
Heron-wanderers
of the sea,
Be with us for vengeance mated,
In a cause so near related:
Let none spare or strength or blood!
Deathless hatred to this brood!
[They disperse, croaking in the air.
Mephis.
(On the plain.) The Northern witches I could curb; with these,
Your foreign spirits, I am ill at ease.
The Blockberg is convenient when you roam:
Go where you may, you find yourself at home;
For us Dame Ilsa watches on her stone,
Heinrich is cheerful on his mountain-throne,
The Snorers grunt if Elend but appears,
Yet all is settled for a thousand years;
But here, stand still or walk, and who can know
Whether the ground upheaves not from below?
Through a smooth valley merrily I wind,
And all at once there rises from behind
A mountain, — scarce a mountain, — yet of height
To intercept the sphinxes from my sight. . . .
Adown the valley many a flame aspires;
Round some adventure quiver still the fires . . .
Dances, and round me hovers to entice,
An amorous crew, with many a coy device.
But soft: — Accustom’d to forbidden sweets,
One seeks to snatch them, wheresoe’er one meets!
Lamiæ.
(Luring Mephistophelesafter them.)
Fleeter, still fleeter!
Ever advancing!
Then again staying,
Prattling and playing!
Nothing is sweeter
Than the hoar sinner,
After us dancing,
Thus to allure;
Limping and stumbling,
Fretting and grumbling,
To penance sure,
Draweth he nigh;
His stiff leg dragging,
Comes he unflagging,
As him we fly.
Mephis.
(Standing still.) Accursed Fate! Dupes truly styl’d!
From Adam downward, fool’d, beguil’d!
We age — but who’s in wisdom school’d?
Wert not enough already fool’d?
We know how good for naught these creatures;
Pinch’d at the waist, with painted features;
No soundness in their bodies slim; —
Grasp where we may, rotten is every limb:
We know, we see, we handle it in life —
And yet we dance, if but the carrion fife!
Lamiæ.
(Stopping.) Hold! He considers, lingers, stands;
Meet him, lest he escape your hands!
Mephis.
(Advancing.) Push on! nor, like a simpleton,
Let web of doubt entangle thee!
For if of witches there were none,
The devil who would devil be!
Lamiæ.
Round this hero circle we!
Love for one within his breast,
Soon itself will manifest.
Mephis.
By this light’s uncertain gleam
Beauteous damosels ye seem,
So from blame shall you be free.
Empusa.
(Rushing in.) And I also! One with you,
Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Page 246