Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 An Goethe
 Prelude at the theatre
 Prologue in heaven
 Scene I: Night
 Scene II: Before the city-gate
 Scene III: The study (The...
 Scene IV: The study (The compa...
 Scene V: Auerbach's cellar
 Scene VI: Witches' kitchen
 Scene VII: A street
 Scene VIII: Evening
 Scene IX: Promenade
 Scene X: The neighbor's house
 Scene XI: Street
 Scene XII: Garden
 Scene XIII: A garden-arbor
 Scene XIV: Forest and cavern
 Scene XV: Margaret's room
 Scene XVI: Martha's garden
 Scene XVII: At the fountain
 Scene XVIII: Donjon
 Scene XIX: Night
 Scene XX: Cathedral
 Scene XXI: Walpurgis-night
 Scene XXII: Oberon and Titania's...
 Scene XXIII: Dreary day
 Scene XXIV: Night
 Scene XXV: Dungeon

Group Title: Cameo classics
Title: Faust
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00080570/00001
 Material Information
Title: Faust
Series Title: Cameo classics
Physical Description: 252 p. : ill., plates ; 21 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 1749-1832
Taylor, Bayard, 1825-1878 ( Translator )
Clarke, Harry, 1889-1931 ( Illustrator )
Publisher: Grosset & Dunlap
Place of Publication: New York
Manufacturer: J. J. Little and Ives Company, printers
Publication Date: 19--?
Genre: non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Statement of Responsibility: by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe ; with illustrations by Harry Clarke ; translated into English, in the original meters, by Bayard Taylor.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00080570
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltuf - AAQ9133
oclc - 01898085
alephbibnum - 000142962

Table of Contents
    Half Title
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Title Page
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Table of Contents
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 12a
        Page 12b
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
    An Goethe
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
    Prelude at the theatre
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
    Prologue in heaven
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
    Scene I: Night
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    Scene II: Before the city-gate
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
    Scene III: The study (The exorcism)
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
    Scene IV: The study (The compact)
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
    Scene V: Auerbach's cellar
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
    Scene VI: Witches' kitchen
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
    Scene VII: A street
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
    Scene VIII: Evening
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
    Scene IX: Promenade
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
    Scene X: The neighbor's house
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
    Scene XI: Street
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
    Scene XII: Garden
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
    Scene XIII: A garden-arbor
        Page 171
        Page 172
    Scene XIV: Forest and cavern
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
    Scene XV: Margaret's room
        Page 182
        Page 183
    Scene XVI: Martha's garden
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
    Scene XVII: At the fountain
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
    Scene XVIII: Donjon
        Page 194
        Page 195
    Scene XIX: Night
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
    Scene XX: Cathedral
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
    Scene XXI: Walpurgis-night
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
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        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
    Scene XXII: Oberon and Titania's golden wedding
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
    Scene XXIII: Dreary day
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
    Scene XXIV: Night
        Page 239
    Scene XXV: Dungeon
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
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        Page 252
Full Text

hi faust


Harry Clarke.

Bayard Taylor

The cameo of Johann Gutenberg on the cover is from a medal
produced by Anton Scharf,,of Vieuna. for the late Robert Hoe,
from the head of tref amotu,p ortrait'tate'of I'Gutenberg by the
American sult.hr.'alph Goddard. Permission.,ta'tse.s4e medal
,at-~gtahted by the owner, VWii'qm Edwin kR-ed .
*'o. ... * .












SCENE I. NIGHT (Faust's Monologue)


III. THE STUDY (The Exorcism)

IV. THE STUDY (The Compact)





. . . 23

. . 25

. 35

. . . 4

. . 57

. . 72

. . 85
. . o6

. . 122

. 136

. . 142

. . 148

XI. STREET . . . .. . 60
XII. GARDEN . . . . . 163
XIII. A GARDEN-ARBOR . . . . 171
XV. MARGARET'S ROOM . . . . 181
XVI. MARTHA'S GARDEN . . . . 184
XVIII. DONJON (Margaret's Prayer) . .. 194
XIX. NIGHT (Valentine's Death) . . . 196
XX. CATHEDRAL . . . . 204
XXIII. DREARY DAY . . . . .. 234
XXIV. NIGHT . . . . . . 239
XXV. DUNGEON . . . . 240

^ ^^


Have you not led this
life quite long enough?

It h'~ace

T is twenty years since I first determined to attempt the
translation of Faust, in the original metres. At that time,
although more than a score of English translations of the
First Part, and three or four of the Second Part, were in
existence, the experiment had not yet been made. The prose
version of Hayward seemed to have been accepted as the
standard, in default of anything more satisfactory: the Eng-
lish critics, generally sustaining the translator in his views
concerning the secondary importance of form in Poetry,
practically discouraged any further attempt; and no one,
familiar with rhythmical expression through the needs of his
own nature, had devoted the necessary love and patience to
an adequate reproduction of the great work of Goethe's life.
Mr. Brooks was the first to undertake the task, and the
publication of his translation of the First Part (in 1856) in-
duced me, for a time, to give up my own design. No previous
English version exhibited such abnegation of the translator's
own tastes and habits of thought, such reverent desire to
present the original in its purest form. The care and con-

science with which the work had been performed were so ap-
parent, that I now state with reluctance what then seemed to
me to be its only deficiencies,-a lack of the lyrical fire and
fluency of the original in some passages, and an occasional
lowering of the tone through the use of words which are
literal, but not equivalent. The plan of translation adopted
by Mr. Brooks was so entirely my own, that when further
residence in Germany and a more careful study of both parts
of Faust had satisfied me that the field was still open,-that
the means furnished by the poetical affinity of the two lan-
guages had not yet been exhausted,-nothing remained for
me but to follow him in all essential particulars. His exam-
ple confirmed me in the belief that there were few difficulties
in the way of a nearly literal yet thoroughly rhythmical ver-
sion of Faust, which might not be overcome by loving labor.
A comparison of seventeen English translations, in the arbi-
trary metres adopted by the translators, sufficiently showed
the danger of allowing license in this respect: the white light
of Goethe's thought was thereby passed through the tinted
glass of other minds, and assumed the coloring of each.
Moreover, the plea of selecting different metres in the hope
of producing a similar effect is unreasonable, where the iden-
tical metres are possible.
The value of form, in a poetical work, is the first question
to be considered. No poet ever understood this question more
thoroughly than Goethe himself, or expressed a more positive
opinion in regard to it. The alternative modes of translation
which he presents (reported by Riemer, quoted by Mrs.
Austin, in her "Characteristics of Goethe," and accepted by
Mr. Hayward),* are quite independent of his views concern-
*" 'There are two maxims of translation,' says he: 'the one requires that the
author, of a foreign nation, be brought to us in such a manner that we may regard
him as our own; the other, on the contrary, demands of us that we transport
ourselves over to him, and adopt his situation, his mode of speaking, and his
peculiarities. The advantages of both are sufficiently known to all instructed per-
sons, from masterly examples.' "
Is it necessary, however, that there should always be this alternative? Where
the languages are kindred, and equally capable of all varieties of metrical ex-


ing the value of form, which we find given elsewhere, in the
clearest and most emphatic manner.* Poetry is not simply a
fashion of expression: it is the form of expression absolutely
required by a certain class of ideas. Poetry, indeed, may be
distinguished from Prose by the single circumstance, that it
is the utterance of whatever in man cannot be perfectly uttered
in any other than a rhythmical form: it is useless to say that
the naked meaning is independent of the form: on the con-
trary, the form contributes essentially to the fullness of the
meaning. In Poetry which endures through its own inherent
vitality, there is no forced union of these two elements. They
are as intimately blended, and with the same mysterious
beauty, as the sexes in the ancient Hermaphroditus. To at-
tempt to represent Poetry in Prose, is very much like attempt-
ing to translate music into speech.t

pression, may not both these "maxims" be observed in the same translation? Goethe,
it is true, was of the opinion that Faust ought to be given, in French, in the
manner of Clment Marot; but this was undoubtedly because he felt the inadequacy
of modern French to express the naive, simple realism of many passages. The
same objection does not apply to English. There are a few archaic expressions in
Faust, but no more than are still allowed-nay, frequently encouraged-in the
English of our day.
"You are right," said Goethe; "there are great and mysterious agencies included
in the various forms of Poetry. If the substance of my 'Roman Elegies' were to
be expressed in the tone and measure of Byron's 'Don Juan,' it would really have
an atrocious effect."-Eckermann.
"The rhythm," said Goethe, "is an unconscious result of the poetic mood. If
one should stop to consider it mechanically, when about to write a poem, one
would become bewildered and accomplish nothing of real poetical value."-Ibid.
"All that is poetic in character should be rythmically treated Such is my
conviction; and if even a sort of poetic prose should be gradually introduced, it
would only show that the distinction between prose and poetry had been com-
pletely lost sight of."-Goethe to Schiller, 1797.
Tycho Mommsen, in his excellent essay, Die Kunst des Deutschen Uebersetzers
aus neueren Sprachen, goes so far as to say: "The metrical or rhymed modelling
of a poetical work is so essentially the germ of its being, that, rather than by
giving it up, we might hope to construct a similar work of art before the eyes of
our countrymen, by giving up or changing the substance. The immeasurable
result which has followed works wherein the form has been retained-such as
the Homer of Voss, and the Shakespeare of Tieck and Schlegel-is an incontro-
vertible evidence of the vitality of the endeavor."
+ "Goethe's poems exercise a great sway over me, not only by their meaning,
but also by their rhythm. It is a language which stimulates me to composition."-

The various theories of translation from the Greek and
Latin poets have been admirably stated by Dryden in his
Preface to the "Translations from Ovid's Epistles," and I do
not wish to continue the endless discussion,-especially as our
literature needs examples, not opinions. A recent expression,
however, carries with it so much authority, that I feel bound
to present some considerations which the accomplished scholar
seems to have overlooked. Mr. Lewes* justly says: "The
effect of poetry is a compound of music and suggestion; this
music and this suggestion are intermingled in words, which
to alter is to alter the effect. For words in poetry are not, as
in prose, simple representatives of objects and ideas: they are
parts of an organic whole,-they are tones in the harmony."
He thereupon illustrates the effect of translation by changing
certain well-known English stanzas into others, equivalent
in meaning, but lacking their felicity of words, their grace and
melody. I cannot accept this illustration as valid, because
Mr. Lewes purposely omits the very quality which an honest
translator should exhaust his skill in endeavoring to repro-
duce. He turns away from the one best word or phrase in
the English lines he quotes, whereas the translator seeks pre-
cisely that one best word or phrase (having all the resources
of his language at command), to represent what is said in
another language. More than this, his task is not simply
mechanical: he must feel, and be guided by, a secondary in-
spiration. Surrendering himself to the full possession of the
spirit which shall speak through him, he receives, also, a por-
tion of the same creative power. Mr. Lewes reaches this con-
clusion: "If, therefore, we reflect what a poem Faust is, and
that it contains almost every variety of style and metre, it will
be tolerably evident that no one unacquainted with the original
can form an adequate idea of it from translation," t which is
Life of Goethe (Book VI.).
t Mr. Lewes gives the following advice: "The English reader would perhaps
best succeed who should first read Dr. Anster's brilliant paraphrase, and then
carefully go through Hayward's prose translation." This is singularly at variance
with the view he has just expressed. Dr. Anster's version is an almost incredible


certainly correct of any translation wherein something of the
rhythmical variety and beauty of the original is not retained.
That very much of the rhythmical character may be retained
in English, was long ago shown by Mr. Carlyle,* in the
passages which he translated, both literally and rhythmically,
from the Helena (Part Second). In fact, we have so many
instances of the possibility of reciprocally transferring the
finest qualities of English and German poetry, that there is
no sufficient excuse for an unmetrical translation of Faust.
I refer especially to such subtile and melodious lyrics as "The
Castle by the Sea," of Uhland, and the "Silent Land" of Salis,
translated by Mr. Longfellow; Goethe's "Minstrel" and
"Coptic Song," by Dr. Hedge; Heine's "Two Grenadiers," by
Dr. Furness, and many of Heine's songs by Mr. Leland; and
also to the German translations of English lyrics, by Freilig-
rath and Strodtmann.t
I have a more serious objection, however, to urge against
Mr. Hayward's prose translation. Where all the restraints of
verse are flung aside, we should expect, at least, as accurate
a reproduction of the sense, spirit, and tone of the original,

dilution of the original, written in other metres; while Hayward's entirely omits
the element of poetry.
*Foreign Review, 1828.
t When Freiligrath can thus give us Walter Scott:-
"Kommt, wie der Wind kommt,
Wenn Wilder erzittern
Kommt, wie die Brandung
Wenn Flotten zersplitternl
Schnell heran, schnell herab,
Schneller kommt Al'e!-
Hauptling und Bub' und Knapp,
Herr und Vasalle!"
or Strodtmann thus reproduce Tennyson:-
"Es fillt der Strahl auf Burg und Thal,
Und schneeige Gipfel, reich an Sagen;
Viel' Lichter wehn auf blauen Seen,
Bergab die Wasserstiirze jagen!
Bias, Hiifthorn, blas, in Wiederhall erschallend:
Blas, Horn-antwortet, Echos, hallend, hallend, hallend!"
-it must be a dull ear which would be satisfied with the omission of rhythm
and rhyme.


as the genius of our language will permit. So far from
having given us such a reproduction, Mr. Hayward not only
occasionally mistakes the exact meaning of the German text,*
but, wherever two phrases may be used to express the meaning
with equal fidelity, he very frequently selects that which has
the less grace, strength, or beauty.t For there are few things
which may not be said, in English, in a twofold manner,-
one poetic, and the other prosaic. In German, equally, a word
which in ordinary use has a bare prosaic character may re-
ceive a fairer and finer quality from its place in verse. The
prose translator should certainly be able to feel the manifesta-
tion of this law in both languages, and should so choose his
words as to meet their reciprocal requirements. A man, how-
ever, who is not keenly sensible to the power and beauty and
value of rhythm, is likely to overlook these delicate yet most
necessary distinctions. The author's thought is stripped of
a last grace in passing through his mind, and frequently
presents very much the same resemblance to the original as an
unhewn shaft to the fluted column. Mr. Hayward uncon-
sciously illustrates his lack of a refined appreciation of verse,
"in giving," as he says, "a sort of rhythmical arrangement to
*On his second page, the line Mein Lied ertdnt der unbekannten Menge, "My
song sounds to the unknown multitude," is translated: "My sorrow voices itself
to the strange throng." Other English translators, I notice, have followed Mr.
Hayward in mistaking Lied for Leid.
tI take but one out of numerous instances, for the sake of illustration. The
close of the Soldier's Song (Part I. Scene II.) is:-
"Kiihn is das Miihen,
Herrlich der Lohn!
Und die Soldaten
Ziehen davon."
Bold is the endeavor,
Splendid the payl
And the soldiers
March away.
This Mr. Hayward translates:-
Bold the adventure,
Noble the reward-
And the soldiers
Are off.


the lyrical parts," his object being "to convey some notion of
the variety of versification which forms one great charm of
the poem." A literal translation is always possible in the
unrhymed passages; but even here Mr. Hayward's ear did not
dictate to him the necessity of preserving the original rhythm.
While, therefore, I heartily recognize his lofty appreciation
of Faust,-while I honor him for the patient and conscientious
labor he has bestowed upon his translation,-I cannot but feel
that he has himself illustrated the unsoundness of his argu-
ment. Nevertheless, the circumstance that his prose transla-
tion of Faust has received so much acceptance proves those
qualities of the original work which cannot be destroyed by
a test so violent. From the cold bare outline thus produced,
the reader unacquainted with the German language would
scarcely guess what glow of color, what richness of change-
ful life, what fluent grace and energy of movement have been
lost in the process. We must, of course, gratefully receive such
an outline, where a nearer approach to the form of the origi-
nal is impossible, but, until the latter has been demonstrated,
we are wrong to remain content with the cheaper substitute.
It seems to me that in all discussions upon this subject the
capacities of the English language have received but scanty
justice. The intellectual tendencies of our race have always
been somewhat conservative, and its standards of literary taste
or belief, once set up, are not varied without a struggle. The
English ear is suspicious of new metres and unaccustomed
forms of expression: there are critical detectives on the track
of every author, and a violation of the accepted canons is
followed by a summons to judgment. Thus the tendency
is to contract rather than to expand the acknowledged excel-
lences of the language.* The difficulties in the way of a nearly
I cannot resist the temptation of quoting the following passage from Jacob
Grimm: "No one of all the modern languages has acquired a greater force and
strength than the English, through the derangement and relinquishment of its
ancient laws of sound. The unteachable (nevertheless learnable) profusion of its
middle-tones has conferred upon it an intrinsic power of expression, such as no
other human tongue ever possessed. Its entire, thoroughly intellectual and wonder-
fully successful foundation and perfected development issued from a marvellous

literal translation of Faust in the original metres have been
exaggerated, because certain affinities between the two lan-
guages have not been properly considered. With all the
splendor of versification in the work, it contains but few
metres of which the English tongue is not equally capable.
Hood has familiarized us with dactylic (triple) rhymes, and
they are remarkably abundant and skilful in Mr. Lowell's
"Fable for the Critics": even the unrhymed iambic hexameter
of the Helena occurs now and then in Milton's Samson
Agonistes. It is true that the metrical foot into which the
German language most naturally falls is the trochaic, while in
English it is the iambic: it is true that German is rich,
involved, and tolerant of new combinations, while English is
simple, direct, and rather shy of compounds; but precisely
these differences are so modified in the German of Faust that
there is a mutual approach of the two languages. In Faust,
the iambic measure predominates; the style is compact; the
many licenses which the author allows himself are all directed
towards a shorter mode of construction. On the other hand,
English metre compels the use of inversions, admits many
verbal liberties prohibited to prose, and so inclines towards
various flexible features of its sister-tongue that many lines of
Faust may be repeated in English without the slightest change
of meaning, measure, or rhyme. There are words, it is true,
with so delicate a bloom upon them that it can in no wise be
preserved; but even such words will always lose less when
they carry with them their rhythmical atmosphere. The flow
union of the two noblest tongues of Europe, the Germanic and the Romanic.
Their mutual relation in the English language is well known, since the former
furnished chiefly the material basis, while the latter added the intellectual concep-
tions. The English language, by and through which the greatest and most eminent
poet of modern times-as contrasted with ancient classical poetry-(of course I
can refer only to Shakespeare) was begotten and nourished, has a just claim to be
called a language of the world; and it appears to be destined, like the English
race, to a higher and broader sway in all quarters of the earth. For in richness,
m compact adjustment of parts, and in pure intelligence, none of the living
languages can be compared with it,-not even our German, which is divided
even as we are divided, and which must cast off many imperfections before it
can boldly enter on its career."-Ueber den Ursprung der Sprache.

of Goethe's verse is sometimes so similar to that of the corre-
sponding English metre, that not only its harmonies and
casural pauses, but even its punctuation, may be easily re-
I am satisfied that the difference between a translation of
Faust in prose or metre is chiefly one of labor,-and of that
labor which is successful in proportion as it is joyously per-
formed. My own task has been cheered by the discovery, that
the more closely I reproduced the language of the original,
the more of its rhythmical character was transferred at the
same time. If, now and then, there was an inevitable alterna-
tive of meaning or music, I gave the preference to the former.
By the term "original metres" I do not mean a rigid, un-
yielding adherence to every foot, line, and rhyme of the
German original, although this has very nearly been accom-
plished. Since the greater part of the work is written in an
irregular measure, the lines varying from three to six feet, and
the rhymes arranged according to the author's will, I do not
consider that an occasional change in the number of feet,
or order of rhyme, is any violation of the metrical plan. The
single slight liberty I have taken with the lyrical passages
is in Margaret's song,--"The King of Thule,"-in which, by
omitting the alternate feminine rhymes, yet retaining the
metre, I was enabled to make the translation strictly literal.
If, in two or three instances, I have left a line unrhymed, I
have balanced the omission by giving rhymes to other lines
which stand unrhymed in the original text. For the same
reason, I make no apology for the imperfect rhymes, which
are frequently a translation as well as a necessity. With all
its supreme qualities, Faust is far from being a technically
perfect work.*
"At present, everything runs in technical grooves, and the critical gentlemen
begin to wrangle whether in a rhyme an s should correspond with an s and not
with sz. If I were young and reckless enough, I would purposely offend all such
technical caprices: I would use.. alliteration; assonance, false rhyme, just according
to my own will or convenience-but, at the same "time, I would attend to the

The feminine and dactylic rhymes, which have been for the
most part omitted by all metrical translators except Mr.
Brooks, are indispensable. The characteristic tone of many
passages would be nearly lost, without them. They give spirit
and grace to the dialogue, point to the aphoristic portions
(especially in the Second Part), and an ever-changing music
to the lyrical passages. The English language, though not so
rich as the German in such rhymes, is less deficient than is
generally supposed. The difficulty to be overcome is one of
construction rather than of the vocabulary. The present par-
ticiple can only be used to a limited extent, on account of
its weak termination, and the want of an accusative form
to the noun also restricts the arrangement of words in Eng-
lish verse. I cannot hope to have been always successful; but
I have at least labored long and patiently, bearing constantly
in mind not only the meaning of the original and the me-
chanical structure of the lines, but also that subtile and haunt-
ing music which seems to govern rhythm instead of being
governed by it. B.T.
main thing, and endeavor to say so many good things that every one would
be attracted to read and remember them."-Goethe, in 1831.


RHABENER Geist, im Geisterreich verloreni
Wo immer Deine lichte Wohnung sey,
Zum hbh'ren Schaffen bist Du neugeboren,
Und singest dort die voll're Litanei.
Von jenem Streben das Du auserkoren,
Vom reinsten /Ether, drin Du athmest frei,
0 neige Dich zu gnddigem Erwiedern
Des letzten Wiederhalls von Deinen Liedern!

Den alten Musen die bestliubten Kronen
Nahmst Du, zu neuem Glanz, mit kiihner Hand:
Du 16st die Rdthsel iiltester Eonen
Durch jiingeren Glauben, helleren Verstand,
Und machst, wo rege Menschengeister wohnen,
Die ganze Erde Dir zum Vaterland;
Und Deine Jiinger sehn in Dir, verwundert,
Verk rpert schon das werdende Jahrhundert.

Was Du gesungen, Aller Lust und Klagen,
Des Lebens Wiederspriiche, neu vermhiilt,-
Die Harfe tausendstimmig frisch geschlagen,
Die Shakspeare einst, die einst Homer gewliilt,-
Darf ich in fremde Klinge iibertragen
Das Alles, wo so Mancher schon gefehlt?
Lass Deinen Geist in meiner Stimme klingen,
Und was Du sangst, lass mich es Dir nachsingen!

A GAIN ye come, ye hovering Forms! I find ye,
As early to my clouded sight ye shone!
Shall I attempt, this once, to seize and bind ye?
Still o'er my heart is that illusion thrown?
Ye crowd more near! Then, be the reign assigned ye,
And sway me from your misty, shadowy zone!
My bosom thrills, with youthful passion shaken,
From magic airs that round your march awaken.
Of joyous days ye bring the blissful vision;
The dear, familiar phantoms rise again,
And, like an old and half-extinct tradition,
First Love returns, with Friendship in his train.
Renewed is Pain: with mournful repetition
Life tracks his devious, lalbyi.it.hine chain,
And names the QeC', "ipst cfetitng f citine tore them
From happy hour, Anid left me to deplore tlieti.:...
...... .... *'.*.-
They hear longer thbsd i g gdi measures, '".'...
The souls, to whom my earliest songs'I'sang:


1i C)
cafi' UC

Dispersed the friendly troop, with all its pleasures,
And still, alas! the echoes first that rang!
I bring the unknown multitude my treasures;
Their very plaudits give my heart a pang,
And those beside, whose joy my Song so flattered,
If still they live, wide through the world are scattered.

And grasps me now a long-unwonted yearning
For that serene and solemn Spirit-Land:
My song, to faint AEolian murmurs turning,
Sways like a harp-string by the breezes fanned.
I thrill and tremble; tear on tear is burning,
And the stern heart is tenderly unmanned.
What I possess, I see far distant lying,
And what I lost, grows real and undying.



OU two, who oft a helping hand
Have lent, in need and tribulation.
Come, let me know your expectation
Of this, our enterprise, in German land!
I wish the crowd to feel itself well treated,
Especially since it lives and lets me live;
The posts are set, the booth of boards completed,
And each awaits the banquet I shall give.
Already there; with curious eyebrows raised,
They sit sedate, and hope to be amazed.
I know how one the People's taste may flatter,
Yet here a huge embarrassment I feel:
What they're accustomed to, is no great matter,
But then, alas! they've read an awful deal.
How shall we plan, that all be fresh and new,-
Important matter, yet attractive too?
For 'tis my pleasure to behold them surging,


When to our booth the current sets apace,
And with tremendous, oft-repeated urging,
Squeeze onward through the narrow gate of grace:
By daylight even, they push and cram in
To reach the seller's box, a fighting host,
And as for bread, around a baker's door, in famine,
To get a ticket break their necks almost.
This miracle alone can work the Poet
On men so various: now, my friend, pray show it.
Speak not to me of yonder motley masses,
Whom but to see, puts out the fire of Song!
Hide from my view the surging crowd that passes,
And in its whirlpool forces us along!
No, lead me where some heavenly silence glasses
The purer joys that round the Poet throng,-
Where Love and Friendship still divinely fashion
The bonds that bless, the wreaths that crown his passion!

Ah, every utterance from the depths of feeling
The timid lips have stammeringly expressed,-
Now failing, now, perchance, success revealing,-
Gulps the wild Moment in its greedy breast;
Or oft, reluctant years its warrant sealing,
Its perfect stature stands at last confessed!
What dazzles, for the Moment spends its spirit:
What's genuine, shall Posterity inherit.
Posterity! Don't name the word to me!
If I should choose to preach Posterity,
Where would you get contemporary fun?
That men will have it, there's no blinking:
A fine young fellow's presence, to my thinking,
Is something worth, to every one.

Who genially his nature can outpour,
Takes from the People's moods no irritation;
The wider circle he acquires, the more
Securely works his inspiration.
Then pluck up heart, and give us sterling coin!
Let Fancy be with her attendants fitted,-
Sense, Reason, Sentiment, and Passion join,-
But have a care, lest Folly be omitted!

Chiefly, enough of incident prepare!
They come to look, and they prefer to stare.
Reel off a host of threads before their faces,
So that they gape in stupid wonder: then
By sheer diffuseness you have won their graces,
And are, at once, most popular of men.
Only by mass you touch the mass; for any
Will finally, himself, his bit select:
Who offers much, brings something unto many,
And each goes home content with the effect.
If you've a piece, why, just in pieces give it:
A hash, a stew, will bring success, believe it!
'Tis easily displayed, and easy to invent.
What use, a Whole compactly to present?
Your hearers pick and pluck, as soon as they receive it!

You do not feel, how such a trade debases;
How ill it suits the Artist, proud and true!
The botching work each fine pretender traces
Is, I perceive, a principle with you.

Such a reproach not in the least offends;
A man who some result intends
Must use the tools that best are fitting.

Reflect, soft wood is given to you for splitting,
And then, observe for whom you write!
If one comes bored, exhausted quite,
Another, satiate, leaves the banquet's tapers,
And, worst of all, full many a wight
Is fresh from reading of the daily papers.
Idly to us they come, as to a masquerade,
Mere curiosity their spirits warming:
The ladies with themselves, and with their finery, aid,
Without a salary their parts performing.
What dreams are yours in high poetic places ?
You're pleased, forsooth, full houses to behold?
Draw near, and view your patrons' faces!
The half are coarse, the half are cold.
One, when the play is out, goes home to cards;
A wild night on a wench's breast another chooses:
Why should you rack, poor, foolish bards,
For ends like these, the gracious Muses?
I tell you, give but more-more, ever more, they ask:
Thus shall you hit the mark of gain and glory.
Seek to confound your auditory!
To satisfy them is a task.-
What ails you now? Is't suffering, or pleasure?
Go, find yourself a more obedient slave!
What! shall the Poet that which Nature gave,
The highest right, supreme Humanity,
Forfeit so wantonly, to swell your treasure?
Whence o'er the heart his empire free?
The elements of Life how conquers he?
Is't not his heart's accord, urged outward far and dim,
To wind the world in unison with him?
When on the spindle, spun to endless distance,
By Nature's listless hand the thread is twirled,
And the discordant tones of all existence

jaus t
In sullen jangle are together hurled,
Who, then, the changeless orders of creation
Divides, and kindles into rhythmic dance?
Who brings the One to join the general ordination,
Where it may throb in grandest consonance?
Who bids the storm to passion stir the bosom?
In brooding souls the sunset burn above?
Who scatters every fairest April blossom
Along the shining path of Love?
Who braids the noteless leaves to crowns, requiting
Desert with fame, in Action's every field?
Who makes Olympus sure, the Gods uniting?
The might of Man, as in the Bard revealed.

So, these fine forces, in conjunction,
Propel the high poetic function,
As in a love-adventure they might play!
You meet by accident; you feel, you stay,
And by degrees your heart is tangled;
Bliss grows apace, and then its course is jangled;
You're ravished quite, then comes a touch of woe,
And there's a neat romance, completed ere you know!
Let us, then, such a drama give!
Grasp the exhaustless life that all men live!
Each shares therein, though few may comprehend:
Where'er you touch, there's interest without end.
In motley pictures little light,
Much error, and of truth a glimmering mite,
Thus the best beverage is supplied,
Whence all the world is cheered and edified.
Then, at your play, behold the fairest flower
Of youth collect, to hear the revelation!
Each tender soul, with sentimental power,
Sucks melancholy food from your creation;
And now in this, now that, the leaven works,


For each beholds what in his bosom lurks.
They still are moved at once to weeping or to laughter,
Still wonder at your flights, enjoy the show they see:
A mind, once formed, is never suited after;
One yet in growth will ever grateful be.
Then give me back that time of pleasures,
While yet in joyous growth I sang,-
When, like a fount, the crowding measures
Uninterrupted gushed and sprang!
Then bright mist veiled the world before me,
In opening buds a marvel woke,
As I the thousand blossoms broke,
Which every valley richly bore me!
I nothing had, and yet enough for youth-
Joy in Illusion, ardent thirst for Truth.
Give, unrestrained, the old emotion,
The bliss that touched the verge of pain,
The strength of Hate, Love's deep devotion,-
O, give me back my youth again!
Youth, good my friend, you certainly require
When foes in combat sorely press you;
When lovely maids, in fond desire,
Hang on your bosom and caress you;
When from the hard-won goal the wreath
Beckons afar, the race awaiting;
When, after dancing out your breath,
You pass the night in dissipating:-
But that familiar harp with soul
To play,-with grace and bold expression,
And towards a self-erected goal
To walk with many a sweet digression,-


This, aged Sirs, belongs to you,
And we no less revere you for that reason:
Age childish makes, they say, but 'tis not true;
We're only genuine children still, in Age's season!

The words you've bandied are sufficient;
'Tis deeds that I prefer to see:
In compliments you're both proficient,
But might, the while, more useful be.
What need to talk of Inspiration?
'Tis no companion of Delay.
If Poetry be your vocation,
Let Poetry your will obey!
Full well you know what here is wanting;
The crowd for strongest drink is panting,
And such, forthwith, I'd have you brew.
What's left undone to-day, To-morrow will not do.
Waste not a day in vain digression:
With resolute, courageous trust
Seize every possible impression,
And make it firmly your possession;
You'll then work on, because you must.
Upon our German stage, you know it,
Each tries his hand at what he will;
So, take of traps and scenes your fill,
And all you find, be sure to show it!
Use both the great and lesser heavenly light,-
Squander the stars in any number,
Beasts, birds, trees, rocks, and all such lumber,
Fire, water, darkness, Day and Night!
Thus, in our booth's contracted sphere,
The circle of Creation will appear,
And move, as we deliberately impel,
From Heaven, across the World, to Hell!


(The THREE ARCHANGELS come forward.)
T HE sun-orb sings, in emulation,
'Mid brother-spheres, his ancient round:
His path predestined through Creation
He ends with step of thunder-sound.
The angels from his visage splendid
Draw power, whose measure none can say;
The lofty works, uncomprehended,
Are bright as on the earliest day.
And swift, and swift beyond conceiving,
The splendor of the world goes round,
Day's Eden-brightness still relieving
The awful Night's intense profound:

j audit
The ocean-tides in foam are breaking,
Against the rocks' deep bases hurled,
And both, the spheric race partaking,
Eternal, swift, are onward whirled!

And rival storms abroad are surging
From sea to land, from land to sea.
A chain of deepest action forging
Round all, in wrathful energy.
There flames a desolation, blazing
Before the Thunder's crashing way:
Yet, Lord, Thy messengers are praising
The gentle movement of Thy Day.

Though still by them uncomprehended,
From these the angels draw their power,
And all Thy works, sublime and splendid,
Are bright as in Creation's hour.

Since Thou, O Lord, deign'st to approach again
And ask us how we do, in manner kindest,
And heretofore to meet myself wert fain,
Among Thy menials, now, my face Thou findest.
Pardon, this troop I cannot follow after
With lofty speech, though by them scorned and spurned:
My pathos certainly would move Thy laughter,
If Thou hadst not all merriment unlearned.
Of suns and worlds I've nothing to be quoted;
How men torment themselves, is all I've noted.
The little god o' the world sticks to the same old way,
And is as whimsical as on Creation's day.
Life somewhat better might content him,

But for the gleam of heavenly light which Thou hast lent
He calls it Reason-thence his power's increased,
To be far beastlier than any beast.
Saving Thy Gracious Presence, he to me
A long-legged grasshopper appears to be,
That springing flies, and flying springs,
And in the grass the same old ditty sings. /
Would he still lay among the grass he grows in!
Each bit of dung he seeks, to stick his nose&in.

Hast thou, then, nothing more to mention?
Com'st ever, thus, with ill intention?
Find'st nothing right on earth, eternally?

No, Lord! I find things, there, still bad as they can be.
Man's misery even to pity moves my nature;
I've scarce the heart to plague the wretched creature.

Know'st Faust?
The Doctor Faust?

My servant, he!
Forsooth! He serves you after strange devices:
No earthly meat or drink the fool suffices:
His spirit's ferment far aspireth;
Half conscious of his frenzied, crazed unrest,
The fairest stars from Heaven he requireth,
From Earth the highest raptures and the best,

And all the Near and Far that he desireth
Fails to subdue the tumult of his breast.

Though still confused his service unto Me,
I soon shall lead him to a clearer morning.
Sees not the gardener, even while buds his tree,
Both flower and fruit the future years adorning?

What will you bet? There's still a chance to gain him,
If unto me full leave you give,
Gently upon my road to train him!

As long as he on earth shall live,
So long I make no prohibition.
While Man's desires and aspirations stir,
He cannot choose but err.

My thanks! I find the dead no acquisition,
And never cared to have them in my keeping.
I much prefer the cheeks where ruddy blood is leaping,
And when a corpse approaches, close my house:
It goes with me, as with the cat the mouse.

Enough! What thou hast asked is granted.
Turn off this spirit from his fountain-head;
To trap him, let thy snares be planted,
And him, with thee, be downward led;
Then stand abashedwh thou art forced to say:
-" -38 -


; gocLman, through obscurest aspiration,
Has still an stinct of-the one tr u y.

Agreed! But 'tis a short probation.
About my bet I feel no trepidation.
If I fulfil my expectation,
You'll let me triumph with a swelling breast:
Dust shall he eat, and with a zest,
As did a certain snake, my near relation.

Therein thou'rt free, according to thy merits;
The like of thee have never moved My hate.
Of all the bold, denying Spirits,
The waggish knave least trouble doth create.
Man's active nature, flagging, seeks too soon the level;
Unqualified repose he learns to crave;
Whence, willingly, the comrade him I gave,
Who works, excites, and must create, as Devil.
But ye, God's sons in love and duty,
Enjoy the rich, the ever-living Beauty!
Creative Power, that works eternal schemes,
Clasp you in bonds of love, relaxing never,
And what in wavering apparition gleams
Fix in its place with tights that stand forever

(Heaven closes: the ARCHANGELS separate.)

I like, at times, to hear The Ancient's word,
And have a care to be most civil:
It's really kind of such a noble Lord
So humanly to gossip with the Devil!


(A lofty-arched, narrow, Gothic chamber. FAUST, in a chair at
his desk, restless.)
I'VE studied now Philosophy
And Jurisprudence, Medicine,-
And even, alas! Theology,-
From end to end, with labor keen;
nd here, poor foolwtha lore
no w r than before:
I'm Magister-yea, Doctor-hight,
And straight or cross-wise, wrong or right,
These ten years long, with many woes,

I've led my scholars by the nose,-
LAnd see, that nothing can be known! ,
SThat knowTei cuts m~ tthe bone. ,
I'm cleverer, true, than those fops of teachers,
Doctors and Magisters, Scribes and Preachers;
Neither scruples nor doubts come now to smite me,
Nor Hell nor Devil can longer affright me.
For this, all pleasure am I foregoing;
I do not pretend to aught worth knowing,
I do not pretend I could be a teacher
To help or convert a fellow-creature.
'Then, too, I've neither lands nor gold,
SNor the world's least pomp or honor hold-
No dog would endure such a curst existence!
Wherefore, from Magic I seek assistance,
That many a secret perchance I reach
Through spirit-power and spirit-speech,
And thus the bitter task forego
Of saying the things I do not know,-
That I may detect the inmost force
Which binds the world, and guides its course;
Its germs, productive powers explore,
And rummage in empty words no more!
O full and splendid Moon, whom I
Have, from this desk, seen climb the sky
So many a midnight,-would thy glow
For the last time beheld my woe!
Ever thine eye, most mournful friend,
O'er books and papers saw me bend;
But would that I, on mountains grand,
Amid thy blessed light could stand,
With spirits through mountain-caverns hover,
Float in thy twilight the meadows over,
And, freed from the fumes of lore that swathe me,
To health in thy dewy fountains bathe me!

Ah, me! this dungeon still I see,
This drear, accursed masonry,
Where even the welcome daylight strains
But duskly through the painted panes.
Hemmed in by many a toppling heap
Of books worm-eaten, gray with dust,
Which to the vaulted ceiling creep,
Against the smoky paper thrust,--
With glasses, boxes, round me stacked,
And instruments together hurled,
Ancestral lumber, stuffed and packed-
Such is my world: and what a world!

And do I ask, wherfor
Faters, oppressed with unknown needs?
Why some inexplicabe smart
All movement of my life impedes?
Alas! in living Nature's stead,
Where God His human creature set,
In smoke and mould the fleshless dead
And bones of beasts surround me yet!

\Fly! Up, and seek the broad, free land!
nd this one Book of Mystery
IFrom Nostradamus' very hand,
/Is't not sufficient company?
When I the starry courses know,
And Nature's wise instruction seek,
With light of power my soul shall glow,
As when to spirits spirits speak.
'Tis vain, this empty brooding here,
Though guessed the holy symbols be:
Ye, Spirits, come-ye hover near-
Oh, if you hear me, answer me!
(He opens the Book, and perceives the sign o theacroco
-i Ot>K ta

Ha! what a sudden rapture leaps fromthis
view, through all my senses swiftly flowing!
feel a youthful, holy, vital bliss
SIn every vein and fibre newly glowing.
Was it a God, who traced this sign,
With calm across my tumult stealing,
My troubled heart to joy unsealing,
With impulse, mystic and divine,
The powers of Nature here, around my path, revealing?
Am I a God ?-so clear mine eyes!
In these pure features I behold
Creative Nature to my soul unfold.
What says the sage, now first I recognize:
"The spirit-world no closures fasten;
Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead:
Disciple, up! untiring, hasten
To bathe thy breast in morning-red!"
(He contemplates the sign.)
How each the Whole its substance gives,
Each in the other works and lives!
Like heavenly forces rising and descending,
Their golden urns reciprocally lending,
With wings that winnow blessing
From Heaven through Earth I see them pressing,
Filling the All with harmony unceasing!
How grand a show! but, ah! a show alone.
Thee, boundless Nature, how make thee my own?
Where you, ye beasts? Founts of all Being, shining,
Whereon hang Heaven's and Earth's desire,
Whereto our withered hearts aspire,-
Ye flow, ye feed: and am I vainly pining?
(He turns the leaves impatiently, and perceives the sign of the


How otherwise upon me works this sign!
jThou. Spirit of the Earth, art nearer:
Even now my powers are loftier, clearer;
I glow, as drunk with new-made wine:
New strength and heart to meet the world incite me,
The woe of earth, the bliss of earth, invite me,
And though the shock of storms may smite me,
No crash of shipwreck shall have power to fright me!
Clouds gather over me-
The moon conceals her light-
The lamp's extinguished!-
Mists rise,-red, angry rays are darting
Around my head!-There falls
A horror from the vaulted roof,
And seizes me!
feel th press ke
veal th self!
Ha! in my heart what rending stroke!
With new impulsion
My senses heave in this convulsion!
fgJfeel thee draw my heart, absorb, exhaust me:
Thou must! thou must! and though my Tfe it cost me!
(He seizes the book, and mysteriously pronounces the sign of
the Spirit. A ruddy flame flashes: the Spirit appears in
the flame.)
Who calls me?
FAUST (with averted head)
Terrible to see!
Me hast thou long with might attracted,
Long from my sphere thy food exacted,
And now-


/Woe il- ndurenot-thee
To view me ._ thine aspiration
My voice to hear, my countenance to see;
Th owe u rnin t
Here am I!--what mean perturbation
The, ipperhumanshakes? T1hy soul's high calling, where?
Where is the breast, w ic from itself a world did bear,
And shaped and cherished-which with joy expanded,
To be our peer, with us, the Spirits, banded?
Where art thou, Faust, whose voice has pierced to me,
Who towards me pressed with all thine energy?
He art thou, who, my presence breathing, seeing,
Trembles through all the depths of being,
A writhing worm, a terror-stricken form?
T Thee, form of flame, shall I
Yes I am Faust: am thy peer!
In the tides of Life, in Action's storm,
A fluctuant wave,
A shuttle free,
Birth and the Grave,
An eternal sea,
A weaving, flowing
Life, all-glowing,
Thus at Time's humming loom 'tis my hand prepares
The garment of Life which the Deity wears!
Thou, who around the wide world wendest,
Thou busy Spirit, how near I feel to thee!


Thou'rt like the Spirit which thou comprehendest,
Not me!

FAUST (overwhelmed)
Not thee!
Whom then?
I, image of the Godhead!
Not even like thee!
(A knock.)
O Death!-I know it-'tis my Famulus!
My fairest luck finds no fruition:
In all the fullness of my vision
The soulless sneak disturbs me thus!
(ne AGN n dressing-gown and night-cap, a lamp in
his hand. FAUST turns impatiently.)

'T sure an oldGre ed ou read? -1
In such an art I crave some preparation,
Since now it stands one in good stead.
I've often heard it said, gr ..-.
Might learn, "itL-a-ee fdaftfef ea
Yes, when the priest comedian is by nature,
As haply now and then the case may be.
Ah, when one studies thus, a prisoned creature,
That scarce the world on holidays can see,-
Scarce through a glass, by rare occasion,
How shall one leadit by persuasion?


You'll ne'er attain it, save you know the feeling,
Save from the soul it rises clear,
Serene in primal strength, compelling
The hearts and minds of all who hear.
You sit forever gluing, patching;
You cook the scraps from others' fare;
And from your heap of ashes hatching
A starveling flame, ye blow it bare!
Take children's, monkeys' gaze admiring,
If such your taste, and be content;
But ne'er from heart to heart you'll speak inspiring,
Save your own heart is eloquent!

Yet through delivery orators succeed;
I feel that I am far behind, indeed.

eek thou the honest recom se!
fq~eware: a tin~g foaL-to-bee!
With little art, clear wit and sense
Suggest their own delivery;
,And if thou'rt moved o speak in earnest,
What need, that after words thou earnest?
Yes, your discourses, with their glittering show,
Where ye for men twist shredded thought like paper,
Are unrefreshing as the winds that blow
The rustling leaves through chill autumnal vapor!

Ah, God! but Art is long,

And oft, with zeal my critic-duties meeting,
In head and breast there's something wrong.


How hard it is to compass the assistance
Whereby one rises to the source!
And, haply, ere one travels half the course
Must the poor devil quit existence.


Is parchment, then, the holy fount before thee,
i _trught wherefrom thy thirst forever slakes?
No true rereshment can restore thee,
SSa-ve--what Trom ttine -own soul spontaneous breaks.


Pardon! a great delight is granted
When, in the spirit of the ages planted,
We mark how, ere our times, a sage has thought,
And then, how far his work, and grandly, we have brought.


0 yes, up to the stars at last!
Listen, my friend: the ages that are past
Are now a book with seven seals protected:
What you the irit of the Ages call
-hi-nothingbut the spirit of you a,
Wherein the Ages are rejected.
So, oftentimes, you miserably mar it!
At the first glance who sees it runs away.
An offal-barrel and a lumber-garret,
Or, at the best, a Punch-and-Judy play,
With maxims mos pragmatica anhitting,
As in the mouths of puppets are befitting!

/ j I.*


But then, the world-the human heart and brain!
Of these one covets some slight apprehension.


Yes, of the kind which men attain!
Who dares the child's true name in public mention?
he few, who thereof something really learned,
nwisy frank, with hearts-tat spurned concealing,
SA to the mob lad bare each thouh
ve evermore been crucified and burned.
I pray you, Friend, 'tis now the dead night;
Our converse here must be suspended.

I would have shared your watches with delight,
That so our learned talk might be extended.
To-morrow, though, I'll ask, in Easter eisure,
This and the other question, at your pleasure.
/Most zealous T f
fMuch do I know--but to know all is my ambition.
FAUST (solus)
That brain, alone, not loses hope, whose choice is
To stick in shallow trash forevermore,-
Which digs with eager hand for buried ore,
And, when it finds an angle-worm, rejoices!

Dare such a human voice disturb the fl
Around me spin res fullest?
And yet, this once my t anks I owe
tee, of all ear sons te poorest, dullest!
or t ou as orn me frort state
c threatened son to overwhelm y senses:
he apparition was so giant-great,
It dwarfed-air the aTll~my soul's pret nces!

I, image of the Godhead, who began-
Deeming Eternal Truth secure in nearness-

/ To sun myself in heavenly light and clearness,
-A-Lnlaid aside the earthly man;-
- m- horae n Cherub, whose free force had planned
To flow through Nature's veins in glad pulsation,
To reach beyond, enjoying in creation
The life of Gods, behold my expiation!
A thunder-word hath swept me from my stand.

ith thee Jdr t compare me.
ough I possessed the power to draw thee near me,
The power to kee wEas 2enie ad
SEen that ecstatic moment held me,
felt myself so small, so great;
But thou ast ruthlessly repeld me
\BakupnMan ncertain fat
Ihll shun? Whose guidance borrow?
Shall I accept that stress and strife?
Ah! every deed of ours, no less than every sorrow,
Impedes the onward march of life.

Some alien substance more and more is cleaving
To all the mind conceives of grand and fair;
When this world's Good is won by our achieving,
The Better, then, is named a cheat and snare.
The fine emotions, whence our lives we mould,
Lie in the earthly tumult dumb and cold.
If hopeful Fancy once, in daring flight,
Her longings to the Infinite expanded,
Yet now a narrow space contents her quite,
Since Time's wild wave so many a fortune stranded.
Care at the bottom of the heart is lurking:
Her secret pangs in silence working,
She, restless, rocks herself, disturbing joy and rest:
In newer masks her face is ever drest,
By turns as house and land, as wife and child, presented,-
As water, fire, as poison, steel:

We dread the blows we never feel,
And what we never lose is yet by us lamented!
I am not like the Gods! That truth is felt too deep:
he rm am hat in the dust dotn creep,-
Tat, while in dust it lives and seeks itsead,
SIs-cushedandbii by the wanderer's trad.

--.Is not this dust, these walls within them hold,
The hundred shelves, which cramp and chain me,
The frippery, the trinkets thousand-fold,
That in this mothy den restrain me?
SHere shall I find the help I need
hall here a thousand volumes teach m ly
That men, self-tortured, everywhere must bleed,-
And here and there oE ppy man sits lonely?
Wht mean'st thou by that grin, thou hollow skull,
Save that thy brain, like mine, a cloudy mirror,
Sought once the shining day, and then, in twilight dull,
Thirsting for Truth, went wretchedly to Error?
e instruments, o ut jeer at me
With wheel and cog, and shapes uncouth of wonder;
I found the portal, you the keys should be;
Your wards are deftly wrought, but drive no bolts asunder!
Mysterious even in open day,
Nature retains her veil, despite our clamors:
That which she doth not willingly display
Cannot be wrenched from her with levers, screws, and
Ye ancient tools, whose use I never knew,
Here, since my father used ye, still ye moulder:
Thou, ancient scroll, hast worn thy smoky hue
Since at this desk the dim lamp wont to smoulder.
'Twere better far, had I my little idly spent,
Than now to sweat beneath its burden, I confess itl
What from your fathers' heritage is lent,
Earn it anew, to really possess it!

What serves not, is a sore impediment:
The Moment's need creates the thing to serve and bless it!

Yet, wherefore turns my gaze to yonder point so lightly?
Is yonder flask a magnet for mine eyes?
Whence, all around me, glows the air so brightly,
As when in woods at night the mellow moonbeam lies?

1 hail thee, wondrous, rarest vial!
I take thee down devoutly, for the trial:
Man's art and wit I venerate in thee.
rhosummary f tle mberjuices
Essence of deadly finest powers and uses,
Unto thy master show thy favor free!
I see thee, and the stings of pain diminish;
I grasp thee, and my struggles slowly finish:
\ My spirit's flood-tide ebbeth more and more.
Out on the open ocean speeds my dreaming;
The glassy flood before my feet is gleaming,
SA new day beckons to a newer shore!

A fiery chariot, borne on buoyant pinions,
Sweeps near me now! I soon shall ready be
To pierce the ether's high, unknown dominions,
To reach new spheres of pure activity!
This godlike rapture, this supreme existence,
Do I, but now a worm, deserve to track ?
Yes, resolute to reach some brighter distance,
n Earth's fair sun I turn my back!
es, let me dare those gates to fling asundr
which every man would fain go slinking by!
is time, through deeds this word of truth to thunder:
v at with e height of Gods Man's dignity may vie!
Nor from that gloomy gulf to shrink affrighted,
Where Fancy doth herself to self-born pangs compel,-
To struggle toward that pass benighted,

Around whose narrow mouth flame all the fires of Hell,-
To take this step with cheerful resolution,
Though Nothingness should be the certain, swift conclusion!

come down, thou cup of crystal clearest!
Fresh from thine ancient cover thou appearest,
So many years forgotten to my thought!
Thou shon'st at old ancestral banquets cheery,
Tesoemn guests thou madest merry,
When one-tiy wassail to the other brought.
The rich and skilful figures o'er thee wrought,
The drinker's duty, rhyme-wise to explain them,
Or in one breath below the mark to drain them,
From many a night of youth my memory caught.
Now to a neighbor shall I pass thee never,
Nor on thy curious art to test my wit endeavor:
Heres a juice whence sleep is swiftly born.
It fills with browner flood thy crystal ho Iow;
Lc ose prepared it: thus I follow,-
With all my soul the final drink I swallow,
Ssolemn festal cup, a greeting to te morn!
sets te goblet to his mouth.
(Chime of bells and choral song.)
Christ is arisen!
joy ortal One,
Whom the unmerited,
Clinging, inherited
Needs did imprison.

What hollow humming, what a sharp, clear stroke,
Drives from my lip the goblet's, at their meeting?
Announce the booming bells already woke
The first glad hour of Easter's festal greeting?

Ye choirs, have ye begun the sweet, consoling chant,
Which, through the night of Death, the angels ministrant
Sang, God's new Covenant repeating?

With spices and precious
Balm, we arrayed him;
Faithful and gracious,
We tenderly laid him:
Linen to bind him
Cleanlily wound we:
Ah! when we would find him,
Christ no more found we!

Christ is ascended!
tiss hathinivesetred him,--
I Woes t~atjarfeyR;him, //^& f
STrials that tested him,
Gloriouslyended! QK/7L

Why, here in dust, entice me with yourspell,
Ye gentle, powerful sounds of Heaven?
Peal rather there, where tender natures dwell.
Your messages I hear, but faith has not been given;
The dearest child of Faith is Miracle.
I venture not to soar to yonder regions
Whence the glad tidings hither float;
And yet, from childhood up familiar with the note,
To Life it now renews the old allegiance.
Once Heavenly Love sent down a burning kiss
7pon my brow, in Sabbath silence holy;
fAnd, filled with mystic presae, chimed the church-bell slowly,
And raver dissolved me a ferventliss.
A sweet, uncomprehended yearning

Drove forth my feet through woods and meadows free,
And while a thousand tears were burning,
I felt a world arise for me.
These chants, to youth and all its sports appealing,
roclaime s rejoicing holiday;
d Memory holds me now, with childish feeling,
ack from the astthe solemn -way.
SSu yof Heaven, so sweet and.mild!
My tears gush forth: the Earth takes back her child!
Has He, victoriously,
Birst tromiteraunlted
Crave and all-gloriously
-Now sits exalted.
I'sHe, ingow-of birth,
Rapture creative near?
Ah! to the woe of earth
Still are we native here.
We, his aspiring
Followers, Him we miss;
Weeping, desiring,
Master, Thy bliss!

Christ is arisen,
Out of Corruption's womb:
Burst ye the prison,
Break from your gloom!
Praising and pleading him,
Lovingly needing him,
Brotherly feeding him,
Preaching and speeding him,
Blessing, succeeding Him,
Thus is the Master near,-
Thus is He here!



(Pedestrians of all kinds come forth.)

W HY do you go that way?

We're for the Hunters'-lodge, to-day.

We'll saunter to the Mill, in yonder hollow.

Go to the River Tavern, I should say.

But then, it's not a pleasant way.

And what will you?


As goes the crowd, I follow.

Come up to Burgdorf? There you'll find good cheer,
The finest lasses and the best of beer,
And jolly rows and squabbles, trust me!

You swaggering fellow, is your hide
A third time itching to be tried?
I won't go there, your jolly rows disgust me!

No,-no! I'll turn and go to town again.

We'll surely find him by those poplars yonder.

That's no great luck for me, 'tis plain.
You'll have him, when and where you wander:
His partner in the dance you'll be,-
But what is all your fun to me?

He's surely not alone to-day:
He'll be with Curly-head, I heard him say.

Deuce! how they step, the buxom wenches!
Come, Brother! we must see them to the benches.
A strong, old beer, a pipe that stings and bites,
A girl in Sunday clothes,--these three are my delights.


st see those handsome fellows, there!
t's really shameful, I declare;-
o follow servant-girls, when they
Mightiave the most genteel society to-day!

SECOND STUDENT (to the First)
PQot quite so fast! Two others come behind,--
Those, dressed so prettily and neatly.
My negbrs one of them, I find,
A girl that takes my heart, completely.
SThey g their way with ooks demure,
But they'll accept us, after all, I'm sure.
No Brother! not for me their former ways
Quick! lesto -gae e us in the press:
Thj and that wields the brom on Saturdays
Will best_ on Sundaysfondle and caress.
He suits me not at all, our new-made Burgomaster
since he's installed, his arrogance growsater.
How has he helped the town, I say.
Things worsen,-what improvement names he?
Obedience, more than ever, claims he,
And more than ever we must pay!

'BEG"R. (sings)
Good gentlemen and lovely ladies,
So red of cheek and fine of dress,
Behold, how needful here your aid is,
And see and lighten my distress!
Let me not vainly sing my ditty;
He's only glad who gives away:

A holiday, that shows your pity,
Shall be for me a harvest-day!

On Sunday, holidays, there's naught I take delight in,
Like gossiping of war, and war's array,
When down in Turkey, far away,
The foreign people are a-fighting.
One at the window sits, with glass and friends,
And sees all sorts of ships go down the river gliding:
And blesses then, as home he wends
At night, o times of peace abiding.
eS,; Nfighhbr! that's my notion, too:
/ Why, l them break their heads, let loose their passions,
And mix things madly throu ha
SZe~re, we keep our good old fashions!

OLD WOMAN (to the Citizen's Daughter)
ar me, how fine! So handsome, and so young!
Who wouldn't lose his heart, that met ou.
n't be so proud! I'll o my ongue,
uw y Ill undertake to u.

Come, Agatha! I shun the witch's sight
Before folks, lest there be misgiving:
'Tis true, she showed me, on Saint Andrew's Night,
My future sweetheart, just as he were living.
She showed me mine, in crystal clear,
With several wild young blades, a soldier-lover:
I seek him everywhere, I pry and peer,
And yet, somehow, his face I can't discover.


Castles, with lofty
Ramparts and towers,
Maidens disdainful
In Beauty's array,
Both shall be ours!
Bold is the venture,
Splendid the pay!
Lads, let the trumpets
For us be suing,-
Calling to pleasure,
Calling to ruin.
Stormy our life is:
is its boon!
idens and c
paituate a soon.
old is the venture,
Splendid the pay!
Andthesoldiers go marching,
Marching away.
Released from ice are brook and river
B the quickening glance of the gracious Spring;
The colors f hope to the valley cling,
d weak old Winter himself mu s
Wit jrawn f e mountains, a crownless king:
Whence, ever retreating, he sends again
Impotent showers of sleet that darkle
In belts across the green o' the plain.
But the sun will permit no white to sparkle;
Everywhere form in development moveth;
He will brighten the world with the tints he loveth,
And, lacking blossoms, blue, yellow, and red

He takes these gaudy people instead.
Turn thee about, and from this height
Back on the town direct thy sight.
Out of the hollow, gloomy gate,
The motley throngs come forth elate:
ach wiie oy o the sunshine hoard
o honor the Day of the Risen Lord
They feel, themselves, their resurrection:
Fronth~ow, dark rooms, scarce habitable;
From the bonds of Work, from Trade's restriction;
From the pressing weight of roof and gable;
From the narrow, crushing streets and alleys;
From the churches' solemn and reverend night,
All come forth to the cheerful light.
How lively, e!the multitude salliesi,
uttering through gardens and fields remote,
While ver the river, that broadly dallies,
Dances so many a festive boat;
And overladen, nigh to sinking,
The last full wherry takes the stream.
Yonder afar, from the hill-paths blinking,
Their clothes are colors that softly gleam.
I hear the noise of the village, even;
ere is the People's proper Heaven;
Here hig an en e see.
Here I am an,- e man to be!

To stroll with you, Sir Doctor, flatters;
'Tis honk, profit, unto me.
But I, afne, would shun these shallow matters,
Sice all that's coarse provokes myenmt
is fiddling, shouting, ten-pm rolling
I hate,-these noises of the throng:

They rave, as Satan were their sports controlling,
And call it mirth, and call it song!

(Dance and Song.)
All for the dance the shepherd dressed,
In ribbons, wreath, and gayest vest
Himself with care arraying:
Around the linden lass and lad
Already footed it like mad:
Hurrah! hurrah!
The fiddle-bow was playing.

He broke the ranks, no whit afraid,
And with his elbow punched a maid,
Who stood, the dance surveying:
The buxom wench, she turned and said:
"Now, you I call a stupid-head!"
Hurrah! hurrah!
"Be decent while you're staying!"

Then round the circle went their flight,
They danced to left, they danced to right:
Their kirtles all were playing.
They first grew red, and then grew warm,
And rested, panting, arm in arm,-
JIurrah! hurrah!
And hips and elbows straying.

Now, don't be so familiar here!
How many a one has fooled his dear,
Waylaying and betraying!

And yet, he coaxed her soon aside,
And round the linden sounded wide.
Hurrah! hurrah!
And the fiddle-bow was playing.
'"ir Doctor, it is good of you,
at t us you undcsd to-day,
Amongrismerry olk.
STighy-learned man, to stray.
,-Then so tae est fi can,
We fill with fresh wine, for your sake:
SI offer it, and humbly wish
That not alone your thirst is slake,-
That, as the drops below its brink,
So many days of life you drink!
I take the cup you kindly reach,
With thanks and health to all and each.
(The People gather in a circle about him.)
th, 'tis well and fitly timed
ThaQ ay o joy you share,
Who heretofore, in evil days,
Gave us so mucEhof helping care.
S nt il man a man stands living here,
aved byyour fthrs skilful hand
That snatched him from the fever's rage
And stayed the plague in all the land.
Then alsa vnn. thnuh but avth
Went into ever house of pain:
Many the corpses carried forth,
But you in health came out again.

No test or trial you evaded:
A Helping God the helper aided.

Health to the man, so skilled and tried,
That for our help he long may abide

To Him above bow down, my friends,
Who teaches help, and succor sends!
(He goes on with WAGNER.)

With what f g thou great man must tho
Receive the people's honest veneration!
How lucky he, whose gits his station"
With such advantages endow!
Thou'rt shown to all the younger generation:
Eh- asks, and presses near to ga
Th the dance delays.
Thou goest, they stand m rows to see,
And all the caps are lifted high:
A little more, and they would henrl the knee
As if the Holy Host came by-

A few more steps ascend, as far as yonder stone!-
Here from our wandering will we rest contented.
Here, lost in thought, I've lingered oft alone,
When foolish fasts and prayers my life tormented.
Here, rich in hope and firm in faith,
With tears, wrung hands and sighs, I've striven,
The end of that far-spreading death
Entreating from the Lord of Heaven!
Now like contempt the crowd's applause seem:

Couldst thou but read, within mine inmost spirit,
U ow little now _Ldeem
That sire or son such praises merit!
--Fat-ter' s as a sombre, brooding brain,
Which through the holy spheres of Nature groped and wan-

And honestly in i ion ond red
ith lar whimsical id
Who, in his dusky work-shop bending,
With proved adepts in company,
Made, from his recipes unending,
Opposing substances agree.
There was a Lion red, a wooer daring,
Within the Lily's tepid bath espoused,
And both, tormented then by flame unsparing,
By turns in either bridal chamber housed.
If then appeared, with colors splendid,
The young Queen in her crystal shell,
This was the medicine-the patients' woes soon ended,
S And none demanded: who got well?
Thus we, our hellish boluses compounding,
Among these vales and hills surrounding,
Worse than the pestilence, have passed.
Thousands were done to death from poison of my giving;
And I must hear, by all the living,
The shameless murderers praised at last!

Wh, therefore, yield to such depression?
A goo dus honest share
In exercising, with the strictest care,
The art bequeathed to his possession!
Dost thou thy father honor, .a.youth?
Then may his teaching cheerfully impel thee:
Dost thou, as man, increase the stores of truth ?
Then may thine own so afterwards exEcet


O happy he, who still renews
The hope, from Error's deeps to rise forever!
hat which o not know, one needs to use
nd what one knows, one uses never.
ut e ot b such despondence, so
he fortune of this hour embitter!
4k how, beneath the evening sunlight's glow,
he green-embosomed houses litter!
he glow retreats, done is the day of toil;
It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring;
Ah, that me from the soil,
\TTpon irt traVck to fellow, follow rnrmnr
Then would I see eternal Evening gild
The silent world beneath me glowing,
On fire each mountain-peak, with peace each valley filled,
The silver brook to golden rivers flowing.
The mountin-chain, with all its gorges deep,
Would then no more impede my godlike motion;
And now before mine eyes expands the ocean
With all its bays, in shining sleep!
Yet, finally, the weary god is sinking;
The new-born impulse fires my mind,-
I hasten on, his beams eternal drinking,
The Day before me and the Night behind,
Above me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath me,-
A glorious dream! though now the glories fade.

wings to lift the body can equeathme.
et in each soul is born te peasur
f yearning onward, upward and away,
When o'er our heads, lost in the vaulted azure,
The lark sends down his flickering lay,-
When over crags and piny highlands
The poising eagle slowly soars,

And over plains and lakes and islands
The crane sails by to other shores.

e had, myself, at times, some odd caprices,
But never yet ucnjmpulse felt, atis t is.
One soon fatigues, on woods and -fies to look,
Nor would I beg the bird his wing to spare us:
I-ow otherwise the menta raptures ear us
Erompage to page, from book to bookT
hen winter nights take loveliness untold,
As warmer life in every limb had crowned you;
/ d when your hands unroll some parchment rare and old,
Leaven descends, and opens bright around you!

One impulse art thou conscious of, at best;
O, never seek to know the other!
Awwo souls, alas! reside within my breast,
Snd each withdraws from, and repels, its brother-
bOne with tenacious organs holds in love
[And clinging lust the world in its emraces;
Te other strongly sweeps, this dust above.
SIntthe high ancestral spaces.
If there be airy spirits near,
'Twixt Heaven and Earth on potent errands fleeing,
Let them drop down the golden atmosphere,
And bear me forth to new and varied being!
a, if a magic mantle once w
STo waft me o'er the world at pleasure,
I would not for the costliest stores of treasure-
k. eaancs robe-the giftresig

Invoke not thus the well-known throng,
Which through the firmament diffused is faring,


And danger thousand-fold, our race to wrong,
In every quarter is preparing.
Swift from the North the spirit-fangs so sharp
Sweep down, and with their barbed points assail you;
Then from the East they come, to dry and warp
Your lungs, till breath and being fail you:
If from the Desert sendeth them the South,
With fire on fire your throbbing forehead crowning,
The West leads on a host, to cure the drouth
Only when meadow, field, and you are drowning.
They gladly hearken, prompt for injury,-
Gladly obey, because they gladly cheat us;
From Heaven they represent themselves to be,
And lisp like angels, when with lies they meet us.
But, let us go! 'Tis gray and duskall:
The air is cold, the vapors tall.
At night, one learns his house to prize:-
Why stand you thus, with such astonished eyes?
What in the twilight, can your miind SO trob
Sst thou the black dog coursing there, through corn and
stubble ?
Long since: yet deemed him not important in the least.
Inspect him close: for what tak'st thou the beast?
Why, for a poodle who has lost his master,
And scents about, his track to find.
Seest thou the spiral circles, narrowing faster
Wichhe, approaching,round us seems to wind?

A streaming trail of fire, if I see rightly,
Follows his path of mystery.

It may be that your eyes deceive you slightly;
Naught but a plain black poodle do I see.

It seems to me that with enchanted cunning
fIe snares our feet, some future chai hi

I see him timidly, in doubt, around us running,
Since, in his master's stead, two strangers doth he find.

The.circle.narrows;e is near!

A dog thou seest, and not a phantom, here!
Behold him stop-upon his belly crawl-
His tail set wagging: canine habits, all!

Come, follow us! Come here at east!

'Tis the absurdest, drollest beast.
Stand still, and you will see him wait;
Address him, and he gambols straight;
If something's lost, he'll quickly bring it,-
Your cane, if in the stream you fling it.

No doubt you're right: no trace of mind, I own,
Is in the beast: I see but drill, alone.


The dog, when he's well educated,
Is by the wisest tolerated.
Yes, he deserves your favor thoroughly,-
The clever scholar of the students, he!
(They pass in the city-gate.)

(Entering, with the poodle.)
BEHIND me, field and meadow sleeping,
I leave in deep, prophetic night,
Within whose dread and holy keeping
The better soul awakes to light.
The wild desires no longer
The deeds of passion cease to chain:
The love of Man revive,
e, T elove-o God revives again.

Be still, thou poodle; make not such racket and riot!
WIVhy at the threshold wiltsnufing b?
Behind the stove repose thee in quiet!
My softest cushion I give to thee.
As thou, up yonder, with running and leaping
Amused us hast, on the mountain's crest,

now I take thee into my keeping
A ome, ut also a silent, guest.

Ah, when, within our narrow chamber
The lamp with friendly lustre glows,
Flames in the breast each faded ember,
And in the heart, itself that knows.
Then Hope again lends sweet assistance,
And Reason then resumes her speech:
One yearns, the rivers of existence,
The very founts of Life, to reach.

Snarl not, poodle! To the sound that rises,
The sacred tones that my soul embrace,
This bestial noise is out ofplace
rWe are used to see hat Man despises
e never rehn
And eood and theBeautiful vilipends,
Finding them often hard to measure:
Will the dog, like man, snarl his displeasure?

But ah! I feel, though will thereto be stronger,
Contentment flows from out my breast no longer.
Why must the stream so soon run dry and fail us,
And burning thirst again assail us?
/Therein I've borne so much probation!
nd yet, this want may be su pie us;

SWe pine and thirst for Revelation,
hnowherc worthier" e nobly sent,
Than here, in our New Testament. --
\ Fee ts meaning to determine,-
htonest pur ose,once ra

To change to my.belov Germxan.
(He opens a volume, and commences.)

/ 'Ts written: "In the Beginning was the Word,"
SHere am 1 balked: who, now can help afford?
The Word?-impossible so high to rate it;
And otherwise must I translate it,
If by the Spirit I am truly taught.
T i I inning was the Thought."
This first line let me weigh completely,
Lest my impatient pen proceed too fleetly.
Is it the Thought which workscreates indeed?
"In the 1eg'innnwa< the Power," I read.
Yet, as I write, a warning is suggested,
That I the sense may not have fairly tested.
he Spirit aids me: now I see the light!
'In the Beginning was the Act," I write.

If I must share my chamber with the,
/Poodle, stop that howling, prithee!
Cease to bark and bellow!
Such a noisy, disturbing fellow
I'll no longer suffer near me.
One of us, dost hear me!
Must leave, I fear me.
No longer guest-right I bestow;
The door is open, art free to go,
But what do I see in the creature?
Is tat in the course o nature.
Is actual fact. or Fancy's shows?
How long and broad my poodle grows!
He rises mightily:
A canine form that cannot e
hat a specteve harbored thus!
He resembles a ippopotamus,
( With fiery eyes, teeth terrible to see-
O, now am I sure of theel
or all of thy half-hellish brood
The Key of Solomon is good.


SPIRITS (in the corridor)
Some one, within, is caught!
Stay without, follow him not!
Like the fox in a snare,
Quakes the old hell-lynx there.
Take heed-look about!
Back and forth hover,
Under and over,
And he'll work himself out.
If your aid avail him,
Let it not fail him;
For he, without measure,
Has wrought for our pleasure.

First, to encounter the beast,
The Words of the Four be addressed:
Salamander, shine glorious!
Wave, Undine, as bidden!
Sylph, be thou hidden!
Gnome, be laborious!

Who knows not their sense
(These elements),-
Their properties
And power not sees,-
No mastery he inherits
Over the Spirits.

Vanish in flaming ether,
Flow foamingly together,
Shine in meteor-sheen,

Bring help to hearth and shelf,
Incubus! Incubus!
Step forward, and finish thus!

Of the Four, no feature
"Lturks int the creature.
Quiet he lies, and grins disdain:
Not yet, it seems, have I given him pain.
Nowz to undisguise thee,
Hear me exo ise thee!
rt t ou, my gay one,

The sign. witness now,
Before which they bow,
The cohorts of Hell!

With hair all bristling, it begins to swell.

Base Being, hearest thou?
Knowest and nearest thou
The One, unoriginate,
Named inexpressibly,
Through all Heaven impermeate,
Pierced irredressibly!

Behind the stove still banned,
See it, an elephant, expand!
It fills the space entire,
Mist-like melting, ever faster.
'Tis enough: ascend no higher,-
Lay thyself at the feet of the Master!
Thou seest, not vain the threats I bring thee:
With holy fire I'll scorch and sting thee!
Wait not to know
The threefold dazzling glow!
Wait not to know
The strongest art within my hands!


while the vapor is dissipating, steps forth from behind the
stove, in the costume of a Travelling Scholar.)
hy such a noise? What are my lord's commands?

This was the poodle's real core,
A travelling scholar, then? The casus is diverting.

The learned gentleman I bow before:
You've made me roundly sweat, that's certain!

What is thy name?
A question small, it seems,
For one whose mind the Word so much despises;
Who, scorning all external gleams,
The depths of being only prizes.

With all you gentlemen, the name's a test,
Whereby the nature usually is expressed.
Clearly the latter it implies
In names like Beelzebub, Destroyer, Father of Lies.
-Who art thou, then?

Part of that Power, not understood,
Which always wills the B an awas wor te Good

h ensense in this enigma lies?
'~~ 77 -


mathe Spirit that Denies!
An :Sl for all things, from th oid
called forth, deserve to e de ye
Were better, ten, were naught created.
Thus, all which you as Sin have rated,-
Destruction,-aught with Evil blent,-
That is my proper element.

Thou nam'st thyself a part, yet show'st complete to me?

he modest'truth I spenk to the.
If Man, that microcosmic fool, can see
Himself a whole so frequtly,
f t am T once All, in primal Night,-
art of the Darkness which brought forth the Light,
The haughty Light, which-now disputes the space,
of Mother Night her ancient
yeh struggle tails; since Light, however it weaves,
Still, fettered, unto bodies cleaves:
It flows from bodies, bodies beautifies;
By bodies is its course impeded;
And so, but little time is needed,
I hope, ere, as the bodies die, it dies!

ee tpaa-th art urui,--
canst not compass general ruin,
And as ca e be u7

Andwhen all is done.
That which to Naught is in resistance set,--


It makes me furious, such things beholdin
From Water, Earth, and Air unfolding,
A thousand germs break forth and grow,
In dry, and wet, and warm, and chilly;
SAnd had I not the Flame reserved, why,
Th nothing opeal f my own to Sho

So, to the actively eternal
Creative force, in cold disdain
You now oppose the fist infernal,
Whose wicked clench is all in vain!
/Some other labor seek thou rather

Well, we'll consider: thou canst gather
My views, when next I venture in.
Might I, perhaps, depart at present?

Why thou shouldst ask, I don't perceive.
Though our acquaintance is so recent,
For further visits thou hast leave.
The window's here, the door is yonder;
A chimney, also, you behold.

eP fD PL~L


must confer that frth may nt under
steps by one slight obstacle controlled,-
Thewizard's-foot, that on your threshold made is.

The pentagam prohibits thee?
Why, tell me now, thou Son of Hades,
If that prevents, how cam'st thou in to me?
Could such a spirit be so cheated?

aspect the thing: the drawing's not completed.
,The outer angle. youmiay see,
Is open left-the lines don't fit it.

Well,-Chance, this time, has fairly hit it!
iAndthlus thou'rt prisoner to me?
It seems the business has succeed.

The poodle naught remarked, as after thee he speeded;
But other aspects now obtain:
(T De5 tgetoutagain.

ry, then, the open window-pane!

/or Devils and for spectres this is law:
tf1 tena hedn 'there also they withdraw.
The first is free to us; we're governeAb t second.

jfau~ t

n Hell itself, then, laws are reckoned?
a s we So might a compact e
ae wit you gentlemen-and binding,-surely?

All that is promispel hall delight thee purely;
o skinflint bargain shalt thou see.
But tis isn- nclu si
EM1talk about the matter soon.
And now, do entreat this boon-
Leave to withdraw from my intrusion.

J)ne moment more. sk thee to remain
Some pleasant news, at least, to tellme

Release me, now! I soon n e again
Then thou, at will, mayst question and compel me.

I have not snares around thee cast;
Thyself hast led thyself into the meshes.
Who traps the Devil, hold him fast!
Not soon a second time he'll catch a prey so precious.

n't please thee, also I'm content tosy,
And serve thee in a social station;
j But stiuaipulaniI Zy
With arts of mine afford thee recreation,

Thereto I willingly agree,
If fthe version pleasant be.
I-~--~- 81


My friend, thou'lt win, past all pretences,
ore min this our to soothe thy senses,
Ihaan n the year's monotony,.
That which the dainty spirits sing thee,
The lovely pictures they shall bring thee,
Are more thanmagic's empty show.
Thy scent will be to bliss invited;
Thy palate then with taste delighted,
Th ynerves of touch ecstatic glow!
All unprepared, the charm I spin:
We're here together, so begin!

Vanish, ye darking
Arches above him!
Loveliest weather,
Born of blue ether,
Break from the sky!
O that the darkling
Clouds had departed!
Starlight is sparkling,
Suns are on high.
Heaven's own children
In beauty bewildering,
Waveringly bending,
Pass as they hover;
Longing unending
Follows them over.
They, with their glowing
Garments, out-flowing,
Cover, in going,
Landscape and bower,

Where, in seclusion,
Lovers are plighted,
Lost in illusion.
Bower on bower!
Tendrils unblighted!
Lo! in a shower
Grapes that o'ercluster
Gush into must, or
Flow into rivers
Of foaming and flashing
Wine, that is dashing
Gems, as it boundeth
Down the high places,
And spreading, surroundeth
With crystalline spaces,
In happy embraces,
Blossoming forelands,
Emerald shore-lands!
And the winged races
Drink, and fly onward-
Fly ever sunward
To the enticing
Islands, that flatter,
Dipping and rising
Light on the water!
Hark, the inspiring
Sound of their quiring!
See, the entrancing
Whirl of their dancing!
All in the air are
Freer and fairer.
Some of them scaling
Boldly the highlands,
Others are sailing,
Circling the islands;

Others are flying;
Life-ward all hieing,-
All for the distant
Star of existent
Rapture and Love!

K He sleeps! Enough, ye fays! your airy number
Have sung him truly into slumber:
For this performance I your debtor prove.-
Not yet art thou the man, to catch the Fiend and hold him!-
With fairest images of dreams infold him,
Plunge him in seas of sweet untruth!
Yet, for the threshold's magic which controlled him,
The Devil needs a rat's quick tooth.
I use no lengthened invocation:
Here rustles one that soon will work my liberation.

The lord of rats and eke of mice,
Of flies and bed-bugs, frogs and lice,
Summons thee hither to the door-sill,
To gnaw it where, with just a morsel
Of oil, he paints the spot for thee:-
There com'st thou, hopping on to me!
To work, at once! The point which made me craven
Is forward, on the ledge, engraven.
Another bite makes free the door:
So, dream thy dreams, 0 Faust, until we meet once morel

FAUST (awaking)
Am I again so foully cheated'?
Remains there naught of lofty spirit-sway,
But that a dream the Devil counterfeited,
And that a poodle ran away?



KNOCK? Come in! Again my quiet broken?

'Tis I!
Come in!

Thrice must the words be spoken.

Come in, then!
Thus thou pleasest me.
I hope we'll suit each other well;
For now, thy vapors to dispel,


I come, a squire of high degree,
In scarlet coat, with golden trimming,
A cloak in silken lustre swimming,
A tall cock's-feather in my hat,
A long, sharp sword for show or quarrel,-
And I advise thee, brief and flat,
To don the self-same gay apparel,
That from this den released and free,
- be at last revealed to thee
This life of earth, whatever my attire,
Would pain me in its wonted fashion.
Too old am I to play with passion;
Too young, to be without desire.
What from the world have I to gain?
Thou shalt abstain-renounce-refrain!
Such is the everlasting song
That in the ears of all men rings -
at unreieve, whn
Each hour, in passing, hoarsely sings
in very terror I at morn awakel
Upon the verge of bitter weeping,
To see the day of disappointment break,
To no one hope of mine-not one-its promise keeping:-
That even each joy's presentiment
With wilful cavil would diminish,
With grinning masks of life prevent
My mind its fairest work to finish!
Then, too, when night descends, how anxiously
Upon my couch of sleep I lay me:
There, also, comes no rest to me,
But some wildream is sent to fray me.
Te Go tat in my breast is owned
Can deeply stir the inner sources;
The God, above my powers enthroned,

He cannot change external forces.
So, by the burden of my days oppressed,
Death is desired, and Life a thing unblest!

And yet is never Death a wholly welcome guest.

0 fortunate, for whom, when victory glances,
The bloody laurels on the brow he bindeth!
Whom, after rapid, maddening dances,
In clasping maiden-arms he findeth!
0 would that I, rit-power,
Ravished and rapt from life had sunken!-

And yet, by some one, in that nightly hour,
A certain liquid was not drunken.

Eavesdropping, ha! thy pleasure seems to be.

Omniscient am I not; yet much is known to me.

Though some familiar tone, retrieving
My thoughts from torment, led me on,
sweet, clear echoes came, deceiving
A faith bequeathed from Childhood's dawn
et now I curse whatever entices
/ nd Asnares the soul with visions vain;
i With dazzling cheats and dear devices
-to nhnes it in this cave ot pain!
Cursed e, at once, the high ambition
Wherewith the mind itself deludes!

Cursed be the glare of apparition
That on the finer sense intrudes!
Cursed be the lying dream's imressio
Of name, and fame, and laurelled brow!
Cursed, all that flatters as possession,
A ,~W d Li- daskinave ipow!
Cursed Mammon be, when he with treasures
To restless action spurs our fate!
Cursed when, for soft, indulgent leisures,
[We-lays for us the pillows straight!
Cursetbe the scendent nectar,-
The highest favor Love lets falT
Cu rsed, also, Hope!--cursed Faith the spectre
A[ n cunse ^c~atience most of a!
Woe! woe!
h~o.hast it destroyed,
-Thr-e-autiru wo-rld,

lIrn ru-i"f s-hrte,
By the blow of a demigod shattered!
The scattered
Fragments into the Void we carry,
The beauty perished beyond restoring.
For the children of men,
Build it again,
In thine own bosom build it anew!
Bid the new career
With clearer sense,
And the new songs of cheer
Be sung thereto!

j aust

These are the small dependants
Who give me attendance.
Hear them, to deeds and passion
Counsel in shrewd old-fashion!
Into the world of strife,
Out of this lonely life
That of senses and sap has betrayed thee,
They would persuade thee.
This nursing of the pain forego thee,
That, like a vulture, feeds upon thy breast!
The worst society thou find'st will show thee
Thou art a man among the rest.
But 'tis not meant to thrust
Thee into the mob thou hatest!
Iam not one of the greatest,
et wilt ou to me entrust
Thy steps trough life, I'll guide thee,-
2 Will wilingly walk bestde-thce-
Wil and fo er
7 With best endeavor,
Ad, if thou art sati $e ed,
Will as servant, slave, with thee abide
And what shall hb m-y rmntr- ice therefore?
The time is long: thou need'st not now insist.
No-no! The Devil is an egotist,
And is not apt, without a why or wherefore,
"For God's sake," others to assist.
Speak thy conditions plain and clear!
With such a servant danger comes T fear.



.Ir- happen 41 that can or will
I'll hear no more: 'tis vain to ponder
If there we cherish love or hate,
Or, in the spheres we dream of yonder,
A High and Low our souls await.

In this sense, even, canst thou venture.
Come, bind thyself by prompt indenture,
And thou mine arts with joy shalt see:
What no man ever saw, I'll give to thee.

Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever?
hen was a human soul, in its-um endeavor,
er understood : such as thdu-
e st thou food which never satias n ,-
Te restless, ruddy gold hast thou,
That runs, quicksilver-like, one's fingers through,-
A game whose winnings no man ever knew,-
,Aaid that, even from my breast,
Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances,

And Honor's godlike zest,
The meteor that a moment dances,-
Show me the fruits that, ere they're gathered, rot,
And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them!

Such a demand alarms me not:
resures have I, a show them.
But stillthetime may reaches, goodm iend,
When peace we crave and more luxurious diet.

When on an idler's bed I stretch myself in quiet,
There let, at once, my record end!
Canst thou with lying flattery rule me,
Until, self-pleasd, myself I see--
Canst fhou wit rich enjoyment fool me,
Let that day be the last ~o meI-
The bet I offer.

And heartily!
When thus I hail the Moment flying:
"Ah, still delay-thou art so fair!"
/ Then bind me in thy bonds_ ing,
SM a rumin t en dec e!
Then let the death-bell chime the token,
Then art thou from thy service free!
The clock may stop, the hand be broken,
Then Time be finished unto me!

Consider well: my memory good is rated.



Thou hast a perfect right thereto.
dA slave am I, what
t i, or e 'i needless to debate it

Then at the Doctors'-banquet I, to-day,
Will as a servant wait behind thee.
/But one thing more! Beyond all risk to bind thee
hve me a line or two, I pray.

Demand'st thou, Pedant, too, a document
at never known a man, nor proved his word's intent?
Is't not enough, that what I speak to-day
Shall stand, with all my future days agreeing?
In all its tides sweeps not the world away,
And shall a promise bind my being?
Yet this delusion in our hearts we bear:
Who would himself therefrom deliver?
Blest he, whose bosom Truth makes pure and fair!
No sacrifice shall he repent of ever.
Nathless a parchment, writ and stamped with care,
/ spec i, whicall to shun endeavor
e word, alas! dies even in then
/ -Adwax anordshi -
Sme Base Spirit, say ?-
-Bra< rnrle parchment, paper, clavy
The terms wit qr hiseltated?
rePey'leave the choice to thee._

Why heat thyself, thus instantly,
._.. ith eloquence exggerad?

Each leaf for such a pact is good;
And to subscribe thy name thou'lt take a drop of blood.

If thou therewith art fully satisfied,
o let us by the farce abide.--

Blood is a juice of rarest quality.

Fear not that I this pact shall seek to sever
STeproils that I make to thee
Is just the sum of my endeavor.
I have myself inflated all too high;
y proper lace is thy este:
The i t Spirit deigns me no reply
An Nature shuts on me her ate
ou ta n,
IAn knowledge brings disgust unspoken.
Let- h ual deeps explore,
To quench the fervors of glowing passion!
Let every marvel take form and fashion
Through the impervious veil it wore!
Plunge we in Time's tumultuous dance,
In the rush and roll of Circumstance!
.en may delight and distress

Alternately follow, as best they can:
Restless activity proves the maid.

For you no bound, no term is set.
Whether you everywhere be trying,
Or snatch a rapid bliss in flying,

May it agree with you, what you get!
Only fall to, and show no timid balking.
But thou hast heard we're
ta et- e wiledring whirl, enjoyment s eenestpai
/ Enamored hate, exhlaran i -
y osom, o its thirst for knowledge sated,
Shall not, henceforth, from any pang be wrested,
/And all of life for all mankind created
(I ~ Sl mine inmost being tested-.
The highestIwT or s my soul small borrow,
Shall heap upon itself their bliss and sorrow,
And thus, my own sole self to all their selves expanded,
I too, at last, shall with them all be stranded!
Believe me, who for many a thousand year
The same tough meat have chewed and tested,
That from the cradle to the bier
No man the ancient leaven has digested!
Trust one of us, this Whole suernal
/Is made but for a God's delight!
SHe wels in splendor single and eternal,
But us he thrusts in darkness, out of sight,
And you he dowers with Day and Night.
Nay, but I will!
A good reply!
One only fear still needs repeating:
The art is long, the time is fleeting.
Then let thyself be taught, say I!
Slue thyself with aoet
Give the rein to his imagination,

Then wear the crown, and show it,
OU the qualities of his creation,-
The courag of the lion's breed,
The wildstag's speed,
The Italian's fiery blood
The North's firm fortitude!
Let him find for thee the secret tether
That binds the Noble and Mean ghe
And teach thy pu ses o yoth and pleasure
To love by rule, andhhte-hy mesUre!
I'd fke, myself, such a one to see:
Sir Microcosm his name should be. ? 7

What am I, then, if 'tis denied my p'
The crown o all humanity to win me,
Whereto yearns every sense within me?

y, on the whole thnn'rt hat thou art.
Set wigs of million curls upon thy head, to raise thee,
Wear shoes an ell in height,-the truth betrays thee,
And thou remainest-what thou art.

I feel, indeed, that I have made the treasure

n i 1 now sit down in restful leisure,
No fount of newer strength is in my brain:
SJam no hair's-breadth more in height,
Nor nearer to the Infinite.

Good Sir you see the facts prezesy
As they are seen by each and all.



Before the joys of life ha-pa.
Why,.Zound3iLBath-handsapd feet are, truly--
'And head and virile forces-thine:
-YefaIfitat Ii-dulge in newly,
Is't thence less wholly mine?
If I've six stallions in m stall
Are not their forces lent me?
speed along, completest man of all,
As though my legs were four-and-twenty.
Take hold, the l .,cflc.tion rcft,
An-dplun into the world with z
-say thee, a specu atve wight
Is like a beast on moorlands lean,
That round and round some fiend misleads to evil plight,
While all about lie pastures fresh and green.
Then how shall we begin?
We'll try a wider sphere.
What place of martyrdom is here!
Is't life, I ask is't-eence
ore thself and bore the students ?
Let Neighbor aunc i to t at attend!
Why plague thyself with threshing straw forever?
The best thou learnest, in the end
Thou dar'st not tell the youngsters-never!
I hear one's footsteps, hither steering.
To see him now I have no heart.

So long the poor boy waits a hearing,
He must not unconsoled depart.

Thy cap and mantle sdmel
(He disguises himself.)
My wits, be certain, will befriend me.
But fifteen minutes' time is all I need;
For our fine trip, meanwhile, prepare thyself with speed!
[Exit FAUST.
(In FAUST'S long mantle.)
Reason and Knowledge only thou despise,
The highest strength in man that lies!
Let but the Lying Spirit bind thee
With magic works and shows that blind thee,
And I shall have thee fast and sure!-
Fate such a bold, untrammelled spirit gave him,
As forwards, onwards, ever must endure;
Whose over-hasty impulse drave him
Past earthly joys he might secure.
Dragged through the wildest life, will I enslave him,
Through flat and stale indifference;
With struggling, chilling, checking, so deprave him
That, to his hot, insatiate sense,
The dream of drink shall mock, but never lave him:
Refreshment shall his lips in vain implore-
Had he not made himself the Devil's, naught could save
Still were he lost forevermore!
(A STUDENT enters.)

A short time, only, am I here,
And come, devoted and sincere,
To greet and know the man of fame,
Whom men to me with reverence name.


Your courtesy doth flatter me:
You see a man, as others be.
Have you, perchance, elsewhere begun?

Receive me now, I pray, as one
Who comes to you with courage good,
Somewhat of cash, and healthy blood:
My mother was hardly willing to let me;
But knowledge worth having I fain would get me.

Then you have reached the right place now.

I'd like to leave it, I must avow;
I find these walls, these vaulted spaces
Are anything but pleasant places.
'Tis all so cramped and close and mean;
One sees no tree, no glimpse of green,
And when the lecture-halls receive me,
Seeing, hearing, and thinking leave me.

All that depends on habitude.
So from its mother's breasts a child
At first, reluctant, takes its food,
But soon to seek them is beguiled.
Thus, at the breasts of Wisdom clinging,
Thou'lt find each day a greater rapture bringing.

I'll hang thereon with joy, and freely drain them;
But tell me, pray, the proper means to gain them.


Explain, before you further speak,
The special faculty you seek.

J_ ravei hehighest erudition;
And fai wnuld make my acquisition
All that there is in Earth and Heav
In Nature and in Science too.

Here is the genuine path for you
"t----st-r attention ust be given.

Body and soul thereon I'll wreak;
vesome inc nation
On summerolidas to seek
-Z3 R a- nation.

Use well your time! It flies so om us.
But time through or er may bewon, I promise.
SoFriend (my views to briefly sum),
First the colle ium lo i
here will your min be drilled and braced,
As ifin Spanish boots weree laced,
And ius, g erpac4ls-broTght,

Instead ofsho hr ere,
Wil-o -the-wisp in murky air.
Days will be spent to bid you know,
What once you did at a single blow,
Like eating and drinking, free and strong,-
That one, two, three! thereto belong.


Truly the fabric of mental fleece
Resembles a weaver's masterpiece,
Where a thousand threads one treadle throws,
Where fly the shuttles hither and thither,
Unseen the threads are knit together,
And an infinite combination grows.
Then, the philosopher steps in
And shows, no otherwise it could have been:
The first was so, the second so,
Therefore the third and fourth are so;
Were not the first and second, then
The third and fourth had never been.
The scholars are everywhere believers,
But never succeed in being weavers.
He who would study organic existence,
first drives out the soul with rigid persistence;
len reports in ni-Id and class,
B frespiritua link is lost, alas!
Encheiresin nature, this Clemistry names,
Nor knows how herself she banters and blames!
I cannot understand you quite.
Your mind will shortly be set aright,
When you have learned, all things reducing,
To classify them for your using.
I feel as stupid, from all you've said,
As if a mill-wheel whirled in my head!
And after-first and foremost duty-
Of Metaphysics learn the use and beauty!

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