Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Page 257
Simple and racy food, thereto inclines thy taste.
Emperor.
(To the Fourth.) Since festivals perforce alone engage us now,
To Cupbearer transform’d, young hero, straight be thou!
Arch-Cupbearer, henceforth the duty shall be thine
To see our cellars stor’d richly with generous wine.
Be temperate thyself; be not misled through mirth,
Howe’er allurements tempt, to which the hour gives birth!
Arch-Cupbearer.
Your highness, youth itself, if trust therein be shown,
Stands, ere one looks around, to man’s full stature grown.
Myself I too transport to that great festive day:
The imperial sideboard then right nobly I’ll array;
Of gold and silver there shall splendid vessels shine,
Yet first the loveliest cup will I select as thine —
A clear Venetian glass, wherein joy lurking waits:
The flavor it improves, yet ne’er inebriates.
In such a wondrous cup too great our trust may be;
Thy moderation, Sire, still more protecteth thee.
Emperor.
What, in this solemn hour, I have conferr’d on you,
Receive with confidence, from valid lips and true;
Great is the Emperor’s word, and every gift makes sure,
For confirmation yet there needs his signature.
This duty to prepare, and royal writ thereto,
The fitting man appears, at the fit moment too.
[The Archbishopand Arch-Chancellorenter.
If to the keystone trusts its weight the vaulted arch,
Securely built it then defies time’s onward march.
Thou seest four princes here. E’en now we have decided
How governance shall be for house and court provided.
What the whole realm concerns, be that with weight and power,
To you, ye princes five, entrusted from this hour.
In landed wealth ye shall all others far excel;
Hence, with their heritage who from our standard fell,
The bounds of your possessions I forthwith expand:
Ye faithful ones, be yours full many a goodly land,
Also the lofty right, should time the occasion send,
Through purchase, chance, exchange, their limits to extend;
To practise undisturb’d, this is secur’d to you,
What sovereign rights soe’er, as landlords, are your due;
As judges, be it yours to speak the final doom, —
From your high stations none will to appeal presume.
Then tribute, tax, and tithe, safe-conduct, toll, and fee,
Mine-salt, and coinage-dues, your property shall be.
That thus my gratitude may validly be shown,
In rank I you have rais’d next the Imperial throne.
Archbishop.
In name of all be given our deepest thanks to thee!
Us mak’st thou strong and firm, — thy power shall strengthen’d be.
Emperor.
Yet higher dignities I to you five will give.
Still live I for my realm, and still rejoice to live;
Nathless of my great sires the chain withdraws my gaze,
From keen endeavor back, the coming doom to face:
I also, in His time, must bid my friends adieu;
The emperor to name shall then belong to you.
On the high altar rais’d, crown ye his sacred brow,
And peacefully shall end, what stormful was e’en now!
Arch-Chancellor.
With pride in their deep breasts, with lowly gestures, stand
Princes, before thee bow’d, the foremost of the land.
So long as in our veins the faithful current plays,
The body we, which still thy lightest impulse sways!
Emperor.
And, to conclude, what we to-day have done, made sure,
Shall be henceforth for aye, by writ and signature;
Ye hold indeed as lords, possession, full and free,
Yet on these terms — that it partition’d ne’er shall be,
And howsoe’er increas’d, what ye from us receive
Ye to your eldest son shall undivided leave.
Arch-Chancellor.
For our weal and the realm’s, to parchment will I straight,
With joyful mind, confide a statute of such weight;
The Chancery shall seal and document procure,
Then shall confirm it, Sire, thy sacred signature!
Emperor.
And so I you dismiss, that on this glorious day,
In solemn conclave met, deliberate ye may.
[The temporal lords retire. The Archbishopremains, and speaks in a pathetic tone.
Archbishop.
The chancellor is gone; the bishop doth remain,
His father’s heart for thee trembles with anxious pain:
Him a deep warning soul impels thine ear to seek.
Emperor.
What in this joyous hour is thy misgiving? Speak!
Archbishop.
With what a bitter pang find I, in such an hour,
Thy consecrated head in league with Satan’s power!
Confirm’d upon thy throne, as it appeareth, — true;
But in despite of God, and Father Pontiff too!
Hearing of this, forthwith, will he pronounce thy doom;
With sacred fire thy realm, accurs’d, will he consume;
For he forgets not how, the day when thou wast crown’d,
E’en at that hour supreme, the sorcerer hast unbound;
To Christendom’s foul shame, on that accursed head,
From out thy diadem, mercy’s first beam was shed.
Now smite upon thy breast, and from thy guilty prey
Back to our holy church some little share repay.
The broad hill-space whereon thy tent did lately stand,
Where, thee to aid, themselves did evil spirits band,
There, where the Prince of Lies did late thine ears abuse,
Taught piously, that spot devote to pious use, —
With mountains and thick wood, so far as they extend,
With verdant slopes which yield rich pasture, without end;
Clear lakes, alive with fish, unnumber’d brooks that flow,
With swift and snakelike course, down to the vale below;
Then the broad vale itself, with meadow, hollow, plain —
Let thy repentance speak, and mercy thou’lt obtain!
Emperor.
For this, my grievous fault, terror so fills my mind,
By thine own measure be the bounds by thee assign’d.
Archbishop.
First shall the space defil’d, by sin so desecrated,
To service of the Highest straight be consecrated!
Swift, to the spirit-eye, the massive walls aspire,
The morning sun’s first beam already gilds the choir;
Crosswise the structure grows, the nave, in length and height
Expanding, straightway fills believers with delight.
Through the wide portal now, they throng with ardent zeal,
While over hill and vale resounds the bells’ first peal —
From lofty towers they ring, which heavenward strive amain,
The penitent draws near, there to be born again.
On consecration day — that day soon may we see! —
The highest ornament shall then thy presence be.
Emperor.
And be my pious wish, through work so great made known,
The Lord our God to praise, and for my sin atone!
Enough! Already rais’d my spirit now I feel.
Archbishop.
As chancellor, I claim both covenant and seal.
Emperor.
A deed which to the church shall all these rights secure —
Bring it, I wi
ll with joy affix my signature.
Archbishop.
(Takes leave, but turns back again at the door.) Thou, as the work proceeds, to it must dedicate
The land’s collective dues — tribute, and tithe, and rate —
Forever. Ample wealth for due support we need,
And careful governance still heavy costs doth breed.
For swift erection too, on spot so waste, some gold,
From thy rich plunder, thou from us wilt not withhold.
Moreover, we shall want — this I cannot disguise —
Timber, and lime, and slate, and such far-off supplies;
Taught from the pulpit, these the willing people bears:
The church still blesses him, who for her service cares.
[Exit.
Emperor.
Heavy and sore the sin whose burden I bewail!
Those odious sorcerers have wrought me grievous bale!
Archbishop.
(Returning once more with profound obeisance.) Pardon, O Sire, thou hast to that unworthy man
The realm’s seashore convey’d; yet him shall smite the ban,
Unless with tithe and dues, with rent and taxes, thou,
Repentant, also there our holy church endow.
Emperor.
(With ill-humor.) The land is not yet there; broad in the sea it lies.
Archbishop.
For him the time will come who potent is and wise.
For us still may your word in its full powers remain.
[Exit.
Emperor.
(Alone.) So may I sign away the realm o’er which I reign!
ACT V.
Open Country.
Wanderer.
Yes, ’tis they, their branches rearing,
Hoary lindens, strong in age; —
There I find them, reappearing,
After my long pilgrimage!
’Tis the very spot; — how gladly
Yonder hut once more I see,
By the billows raging madly,
Cast ashore, which shelter’d me!
My old hosts, I fain would greet them,
Helpful they, an honest pair;
May I hope to-day to meet them?
Even then they aged were.
Worthy folk, in God believing!
Shall I knock? or raise my voice?
Hail to you if, guest receiving,
In good deeds ye still rejoice!
Baucis.
(A very aged woman.)
Stranger dear, beware of breaking
My dear husband’s sweet repose!
Strength for brief and feeble waking
Lengthen’d sleep on age bestows.
Wanderer.
Mother, say then, do I find thee,
To receive my thanks once more,
In my youth who didst so kindly,
With thy spouse, my life restore?
Baucis, to my lips half-dying,
Art thou, who refreshment gave?
[The husband steps forth.
Thou Philemon, strength who plying,
Snatch’d my treasure from the wave?
By your flames, so promptly kindl’d,
By your bell’s clear silver sound —
That adventure, horror-mingl’d,
Hath a happy issue found.
Forward let me step, and gazing
Forth upon the boundless main,
Kneel, and thankful prayers upraising,
Ease of my full heart the strain!
[He walks forward upon the downs.
Philemon.
(To Baucis.)
Haste to spread the table, under
The green leafage of our trees.
Let him run, struck dumb with wonder,
Scarce he’ll credit what he sees.
[He follows the wanderer. Standing beside him.
Where the billows did maltreat you,
Wave on wave in fury roll’d,
There a garden now doth greet you,
Fair as Paradise of old.
Grown more aged, as when stronger,
I could render aid no more;
And, as wan’d my strength, no longer
Roll’d the sea upon the shore:
Prudent lords, bold serfs directing,
It with trench and dyke restrain’d;
Ocean’s rights no more respecting.
Lords they were, where he had reign’d.
See, green meadows far extending; —
Garden, village, woodland, plain.
But return we, homeward wending,
For the sun begins to wane.
In the distance sails are gliding,
Nightly they to port repair;
Bird-like, in their nests confiding,
For a haven waits them there.
Far away mine eye discerneth
First the blue fringe of the main;
Right and left, where’er it turneth
Spreads the thickly-peopl’d plain.
In the Garden. The Three at Table.
Baucis.
(To the stranger.) Art thou dumb? No morsel raising
To thy famish’d lips?
Philemon.
I trow,
He of wonders so amazing
Fain would hear; inform him thou.
Baucis.
There was wrought a wonder truly,
Yet no rest it leaves to me;
Naught in the affair was duly
Done, as honest things should be!
Philemon.
Who as sinful can pronounce it?
’Twas the emperor gave the shore; —
Did the trumpet not announce it
As the herald pass’d our door?
Footing firm they first have planted
Near these downs. Tents, huts, appear’d;
O’er the green, the eye, enchanted,
Saw ere long a palace rear’d.
Baucis.
Shovel, axe, no labor sparing,
Vainly pli’d the men by day;
Where the fires at night shone flaring,
Stood a dam, in morning’s ray.
Still from human victims bleeding,
Wailing sounds were nightly borne;
Seaward sped the flames, receding;
A canal appear’d at morn!
Godless is he, naught respecting;
Covets he our grove, our cot;
Though our neighbor, us subjecting,
Him to serve will be our lot.
Philemon.
Yet he bids, our claims adjusting,
Homestead fair in his new land.
Baucis.
Earth, from water sav’d, mistrusting,
On thine own height take thy stand.
Philemon.
Let us, to the chapel wending,
Watch the sun’s last rays subside;
Let us ring, and prayerful bending,
In our fathers’ God confide!
Palace.
[Spacious ornamental garden; broad, straight canal. Faustin extreme old age, walking about, meditating.
Lynceus,the Warder.
(Through a speaking-trumpet.) The sun sinks down, the ships belated
Rejoicing to the haven steer.
A stately galley, deeply freighted,
On the canal, now draweth near;
Her chequer’d flag the breeze caresses,
The masts unbending bear the sails;
Thee now the grateful seaman blesses,
Thee at this moment Fortune hails.
[The bell rings on the downs.
Faust.
(Starting.) Accursed bell! Its clamor sending,
Like spiteful shot it wounds mine ear!
Before me lies my realm unending;
Vexation dogs me in the rear;
For I, these envious chimes still hearing,
Must at my narrow bounds repine;
The linden grove, brown hut thence peering,
The moldering
church, these are not mine.
Refreshment seek I, there repairing?
Another’s shadow chills my heart,
A thorn, nor foot nor vision sparing, —
far from hence could I depart!
Warder.
(As above.) How, wafted by the evening gales,
Blithely the painted galley sails;
On its swift course, how richly stor’d!
Chest, coffer, sack, are heap’d aboard.
A Splendid Galley.
Richly and brilliantly laden with the produce of foreign climes.
Mephistopheles. The Three Mighty Comrades.
Chorus.
Here do we land,
Here are we now.
Hail to our lord;
Our patron, thou!
[They disembark. The goods are taken ashore. Mephis. So have we prov’d our worth — content
If we our patron’s praises earn:
With but two ships abroad we went,
With twenty we to port return.
By our rich lading all may see
The great successes we have wrought.
Free ocean makes the spirit free:
There claims compunction ne’er a thought!
A rapid grip there needs alone;
A fish, a ship, on both we seize.
Of three if we the lordship own,
Straightway we hook a fourth with ease,
Then is the fifth in sorry plight —
Who hath the power, has still the right;
The What is ask’d for, not the How.
Else know I not the seaman’s art:
War, commerce, piracy, I trow,
A trinity, we may not part.
The Three Mighty Comrades.
No thank and hail;
No hail and thank!
As were our cargo
Vile and rank!
Disgust upon
His face one sees:
The kingly wealth
Doth him displease!
Mephis.
Expect ye now
No further pay;
For ye your share
Have ta’en away.
The Three Mighty Comrades.
To pass the time,
As was but fair;
We all expect
An equal share.
Mephis.
First range in order,
Hall on hall,
These wares so costly,
One and all!
And when he steps
The prize to view,
And reckons all
With judgment true,
He’ll be no niggard;
As is meet,
Feast after feast
He’ll give the fleet.
The gay birds come with morning tide;
Myself for them can best provide.
[The cargo is removed.
Mephis.
(To Faust.) With gloomy look, with earnest brow
Thy fortune high receivest thou.
Thy lofty wisdom has been crown’d;