To strive on still towards supreme existence.—
A gloaming-shine reveals the reborn world,
The forest sings with myriad-voiced insistence,
Through vale and dale the morning mists have curled,
But heaven’s radiance pierces them, descending,
And branch and bough appear, revived, unfurled
4690
From the vaporous chasm, their slumber ending;
Now deep-down colours grow distinct, as flower
And leaf gleam moistly, tremulous pearls suspending.
Oh paradise again, oh encircling power!
Let me lookup!—Each giant summit-height
Proclaims already this most solemn hour:
They are the first to taste the eternal light,
As we shall, when its downward course is ended.
Now the green-slanting meadow-slopes are bright
Again, each detail new and clear and splendid,
4700
And day spreads stepwise with the dark’s downsinking:
See, the sun rises!—But my eyes offended
Turn away dazzled, from this great sight shrinking.
And thus, when with our heart’s whole hope for guide
Towards our goal we have struggled on unthinking,
And find fulfilment’s portals open wide—
From those unfathomed depths a sudden mass
Of fire bursts forth, we stand amazed: we tried
To set the torch of life alight—alas,
A sea of flame engulfs us, ah what flame
4710
Of love or hate, burning, consuming us
With pain and joy, which strangely seem the same!
We look back earthwards, hiding from this blaze
Behind a youthful veil of awestruck shame.
So be it! I will turn from the sun’s rays.
At that rock-riving torrent, with increasing
Ecstasy at that waterfall I gaze:
From cliff to cliff it pours down never-ceasing,
It foams and streams a thousand thousandfold,
Spray upon spray high in the air releasing.
4720
But from this tumult, marvellous to behold,
The rainbow blooms, changing yet ever still;
Now vanishing and now drawn clear and bold.
How cool the moisture of its scattering spill!
I watch a mirror here of man’s whole story,
And plain it speaks, ponder it as you will:
Our life’s a spectrum-sheen of borrowed glory.
2.AN IMPERIAL PALACE*-THE THRONE-ROOM
[A Council of State awaiting THE EMPEROR. Trumpets sound. Enter Court retinue of all kinds, in fine clothes. THE EMPEROR takes his place on the throne; THE ASTROLOGER stands on his right.]
THE EMPEROR. Our greetings to you all, most dear
And trusty friends from far and near.
The sage is at my side, I see;
4730
I had a fool too, where is he?
A COURTIER. Behind your train he tripped and fell
Head-over-heels, Sire, on the stair;
They lugged the load of guts somewhere—
He’s dead or dead drunk, who can tell?
ANOTHER COURTIER. And then, Sire, with strange suddenness,
Another fool popped up in less
Than no time: sumptuous in his dress,
And yet grotesque—it quite alarms
One at first sight. Your men-at-arms’
4740
Crossed halberds bar him audience.
But here he comes, what insolence!
MEPHISTOPHELES [kneeling at the throne].*
What is both cursed and welcome? What
Is both desired and chased away?
Defended oftener than not,
Accused and railed at every day?
Who is the uncalled-for comer? Can
You name the name all love to hear?
What dares approach your throne? What ban
Keeps what, self-banished, far from here?
4750
THE EMPEROR. Come, spare your speech on this occasion;
I’ve riddling and equivocation
Enough from councillors like these.
Give me some anwers, if you please!
I fear my old fool’s vanished without trace:
You’ll do instead, come up and take his place.
[MEPHISTOPHELES mounts the steps and stands on THE EMPEROR’S left.]
MURMURS FROM THE CROWD.
A new fool!—Now new troubles begin!—
Where’s he from?—How did he get in?
The old one fell—Now he’s off sick—
He was pot-paunched—This one’s a stick—
4760
THE EMPEROR. And so, right trusty friends, we say
Welcome to you from near and far.
We meet under a favourable star;
The heavens presage good luck today.
But tell me: in these glad times, when
We all cast off our cares again,
Put on our carnival masks, and try
Merely to take our pleasure, why
Must problems of the State torment us?
Yet, since you judge them to be so momentous,
4770
I gave consent; now give me your reply.
THE CHANCELLOR. About your head, Sire, like a halo, lies
One supreme virtue: none can exercise
It fully but the Emperor. It is known
As Justice!—All men love, desire, demand
To have it, all men sorely miss it—and the hand
Dispensing it to all is yours alone.
But what can wisdom still avail, alas,
Or the heart’s goodness or the willing arm,
When raging through the realm wild fevers pass,
4780
And evils breed from evil’s brood of harm?
Look down from this high place, look far and wide
Over the empire: it must seem
A nightmare of deformity, a dream
Of monsters, law to lawless power unfurled,
And rooting error spread about the world.
One man steals flocks, the next a wife,
A third the altar’s treasury:
And yet can boast himself scot-free
From pains of law to limb or life.
4790
While plaintiffs throng the hall, and from
His sumptuous seat the judge looks down,
Rebellion like a gathering storm
Mutters and laps. Must justice drown
In these fierce waves? A miscreant
Protected by accomplices can vaunt
His crimes, while he whom only guiltlessness
Defends is pronounced guilty none the less.
And thus society falls to pieces,
4800
Order and decency decay;
How shall men not be led astray
As the true guiding instinct stunts and ceases?
So in the end good men and true
Succumb to bribes and flattery,
And judges can impose no penalty
For crime, but become criminals too.
I have painted a black picture, but I would
Draw blacker veils across it if I could.
[A pause.]
Your Majesty, decisions must be taken.
The imperial throne itself is shaken
4810
When all inflict, when all endure such harm.
THE ARMY COMMANDER. Sire, these are wild chaotic days.
Deaf to all orders, each man trusts his arm,
Every man for himself is slain or slays.
The burgher, snug behind his walls,
The knight, high on his rocky perch,
Vow they’ll survive even though the Empire falls;
Their powers leave us in the lurch.
Our mercenary soldiers grow
I
mpatient, they demand their pay;
4820
But for the money we still owe
Them all, they’d all have run away.
And we can’t stop them doing as they please;
That would stir up real trouble. So
The land they should protect, by these
Brigands it’s plundered and laid low.
We let them rage and eat their fill:
Now half the world’s already lost.
Some neighbouring kings are allied to us still,
But none of them thinks he should share the cost.
4830
THE TREASURER. Who’d boast of allies of that sort!
Where are their subsidies, their pledged support?
They’re leaking pipes that have run dry.
Moreover, Sire, in your domains
What has become of property?
The new rich, living on their gains,
They set up house; they are ubiquitous,
And they seek independence. We look on,
And what else can we do, having foregone
So many rights? What still belongs to us
4840
By right? And parties, though they may
Call themselves this or that, no one today
Can trust them either. They commend
And they find fault, but in the end
Their love or hate’s turned cold. The Ghibelline*
Lies low, the Guelph* has quit the scene.
They’re in hiding, they’re tired of helping neighbours;
It’s for himself these days that each man labours.
The gates of gold are locked and barred.
They’re digging for it, scraping, scratching hard;
4850
And our coffers are empty as before.
THE STEWARD. I too have to report calamities.
We’re daily trying to economize,
And yet we’re daily spending more;
Daily my problems are increased.
The cooks lack neither fowl nor beast:
Wild boar and stags and hares and deer,
Turkeys and chickens, geese and ducks—
Payments in kind, a steady flux
Of rents—all these we get, no problem here;
4860
But we are short of wine, I fear.
Our cellars, cask on cask, were once replete
With finest vintages; but this supply,
My lords, since we so endlessly compete
In our potations, is drained almost dry.
Even the town councils’ stocks are tapped, they swill
From bowls and tankards with a will,
And feasts end up under the table.
As for the wages I’m supposed to pay—
The Jew will squeeze as hard as he is able;
4870
I get advances from him, years ahead.
We buy tomorrow what we eat today,
We slaughter pigs while they’re still thin,
We pawn the very beds we’re sleeping in;
In fact we are living, Sire, on mortgaged bread.
THE EMPEROR [after reflecting a little, to MEPHISTOPHELES].
Well, fool, do you too have some gloom to shed?
MEPHISTOPHELES. By no means, Majesty! Such light shines round us
From yourself and those near you! How could doubt confound us
Where such a lord wields such authority,
Such power to strike down any enemy?
4880
Where good will is made strong by wisdom, where
A host of hands is busy everywhere,
How could misfortune now or ill intent
Bring gloom to such a starry firmament!
MURMURS FROM THE CROWD.
This sly rogue knows—what he’s about—
He’ll be well in—till he’s found out—
He’s up to something—I guess what—
What do you guess?—Some scheme he’s got—
MEPHISTOPHELES. Do we not all lack something, of one sort
Or another? Here it’s money that’s run short.
4890
It does not grow on trees, that’s true, I fear;
But from the depths wisdom can bring it here.
There is gold in the earth, coined and uncoined,*
Hoards hidden under walls, rocks precious-veined:
This treasure’s for the wise man to collect,
By Nature’s power and human intellect.
THE CHANCELLOR. Nature and Intellect! Who dares profess
Such dangerous heresy to Christian ears?
Atheists have been burnt for less.
Nature is sin, the intellect’s ideas
4900
Are Satan’s, and between them Doubt is bred,
The mongrel offspring of their monstrous bed.
Away with them!—The Emperor’s lands are old,
And here two native kindreds are alone
The worthy guardians of his throne:
The men of God, and all our bold
And valiant knights. Against the storms of fate
They are proof, and their reward is Church and State.
There are confused plebeian minds in whom
The spirit of revolt finds room:
4910
Such men are heretics and sorcerers,
The empire’s ruined and the fault is theirs.
And you, fool, with your insolent arts,
Would smuggle them in here! They are close kin
To fools, and quite depraved by sin.
We cannot trust such black corrupted hearts.
MEPHISTOPHELES. I recognize a learned scholar’s speech!
What your hands cannot touch, lies far beyond your reach;
What your minds cannot grasp or calculate,
Does not exist for you; nothing has weight
4920
If you have not first weighed it; and unless
A coin was struck by you, you think it valueless.
THE EMPEROR. None of this solves our problems; I can see
No point, sir, in your Lenten homily.
I’m sick of all this endless hem and hum.
We need more money: all right, get us some!
MEPHISTOPHELES. I will get what you need, I will get more;
The way is easy, though the task is sore.
The gold’s already there for us to find,
But that’s the art: how shall it be divined?
4930
Consider: in those days of terror, when
A human flood covered the land, how then
So many, here and there, in mortal fear,
Secretly hid the treasures they held dear.
Such is the custom, now as long ago;
Since the Romans were great it has been so.
All this lies buried in the Emperor’s ground—
And is the Emperor’s property when found.
THE TREASURER. Well, for a fool, that’s not a bad suggestion;
The Emperor has these ancient rights, no question.
4940
THE CHANCELLOR. Satan lays golden snares to catch you all!
The whole thing’s impious and unnatural.
THE STEWARD. If I could give the court a decent dinner,
I’d not mind all that much being a sinner.
THE ARMY COMMANDER. He’s a sound fool; he knows
what’s good for us.
As for his methods, soldiers mustn’t fuss.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Perhaps you do not trust me? I refer
You to this expert: ask the Astrologer!*
The heaven’s houses he can scan, he can peruse
Its hours; come, tell us the celestial news!
4950
MURMURS FROM THE CROWD.
A pair of rogues—So near the throne—
Dreamer and fool—They speak as one—
The Wise Man—(here’s a tale we’ve heard!)
Talks, and the Fool—promp
ts every word—
THE ASTROLOGER [with MEPHISTOPHELES prompting].
The Sun itself, it is pure gold, they say;
Mercury runs for favour and for pay
As messenger; Venus who charms all men
Gleams in the dawn and in the dusk again;
The chaste Moon shines inconstantly, and Mars
Smites you or threatens you with his fierce wars.
4960
Jupiter is the fairest light of all;
Saturn is great, but seems far off and small.
As metal we do not esteem him much,
For he is base, though heavy to the touch.
But when the Sun and Moon have joined together,
Silver to gold—then all the world’s fine weather!
When we have them, we can buy all the rest:
Palaces, gardens, red cheeks, a plump breast—
All this our learned scholar will provide,
For he succeeds where no one else has tried.
4970
THE EMPEROR. I hear his whole speech twice, but I confess
It sounds like nonsense none the less.
MURMURS FROM THE CROWD. What’s all this bluff?—
It’s stale old stuff—
I’ve heard such bosh—Alchemical tosh—
And horoscopes—They raise false hopes—
He’d be the same—A swindler’s game—
MEPHISTOPHELES. They stand around and gape, poor brutes;
They doubt my high discovery.
They blether about mandrake roots
Or the black dog, denouncing sorcery,
4980
Showing their wits off; what will that avail
When their sure-footed footsteps fail,
And when their soles begin to itch
With magic that can make them rich!
From her profundities do you not sense
Great Nature’s timeless power, a living trace
Of her mysterious influence,
Her deep caress, the touch of her embrace?
When all your limbs are twitching so,
4990
And you can smell the eerie air—
Set to and dig, and hack and hoe:
The golden fiddler’s buried there!
MURMURS FROM THE CROWD.
My foot’s asleep—It’s passed right out—
My arm’s like lead—I must have gout—
I’ve got an itch in my great toe—
My whole back hurts—If we’re to go
By these strange signs, this place must be
A wondrous buried treasury!
THE EMPEROR. Be quick then; you shan’t wriggle out
Of it this time, so try your fine words out:
5000
Show us these noble places you know well!
I’ll lay my sword and sceptre down,
If you’re not lying, and my own
Imperial hands themselves this work shall crown;
If you are lying, then I’ll pack you off to hell!
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