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Masters of the Theatre

Page 108

by Delphi Classics

FAUST

  How through the chasms strangely gleams,

  A lurid light, like dawn’s red glow,

  Pervading with its quivering beams,

  The gorges of the gulf below!

  Here vapors rise, there clouds float by,

  Here through the mist the light doth shine;

  Now, like a fount, it bursts on high,

  Meanders now, a slender line;

  Far reaching, with a hundred veins,

  Here through the valley see it glide;

  Here, where its force the gorge restrains,

  At once it scatters, far and wide;

  Anear, like showers of golden sand

  Strewn broadcast, sputter sparks of light:

  And mark yon rocky walls that stand

  Ablaze, in all their towering height!

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Doth not Sir Mammon for this fête

  Grandly illume his palace! Thou

  Art lucky to have seen it; now,

  The boisterous guests, I feel, are coming straight.

  FAUST

  How through the air the storm doth whirl!

  Upon my neck it strikes with sudden shock.

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Cling to these ancient ribs of granite rock,

  Else to yon depths profound it you will hurl.

  A murky vapor thickens night.

  Hark! Through the woods the tempests roar!

  The owlets flit in wild affright.

  Hark! Splinter’d are the columns that upbore

  The leafy palace, green for aye:

  The shivered branches whirr and sigh,

  Yawn the huge trunks with mighty groan,

  The roots, upriven, creak and moan!

  In fearful and entangled fall,

  One crashing ruin whelms them all,

  While through the desolate abyss,

  Sweeping the wreck-strewn precipice,

  The raging storm-blasts howl and hiss!

  Aloft strange voices dost thou hear?

  Distant now and now more near?

  Hark! the mountain ridge along,

  Streameth a raving magic-song!

  WITCHES (in chorus)

  Now to the Brocken the witches hie,

  The stubble is yellow, the corn is green;

  Thither the gathering legions fly,

  And sitting aloft is Sir Urian seen:

  O’er stick and o’er stone they go whirling along,

  Witches and he-goats, a motley throng.

  VOICES

  Alone old Baubo’s coming now;

  She rides upon a farrow sow.

  CHORUS

  Honor to her, to whom honor is due!

  Forward, Dame Baubo! Honor to you!

  A goodly sow and mother thereon,

  The whole witch chorus follows anon.

  VOICE

  Which way didst come?

  VOICE

  O’er Ilsenstein!

  There I peep’d in an owlet’s nest.

  With her broad eye she gazed in mine!

  VOICE

  Drive to the devil, thou hellish pest!

  Why ride so hard?

  VOICE

  She has graz’d my side,

  Look at the wounds, how deep and how wide!

  WITCHES (in chorus)

  The way is broad, the way is long;

  What mad pursuit! What tumult wild!

  Scratches the besom and sticks the prong;

  Crush’d is the mother, and stifled the child.

  WIZARDS (half chorus)

  Like house-encumber’d snail we creep;

  While far ahead the women keep,

  For when to the devil’s house we speed,

  By a thousand steps they take the lead.

  THE OTHER HALF

  Not so, precisely do we view it;

  They with a thousand steps may do it;

  But let them hasten as they can,

  With one long bound ’tis clear’d by man.

  VOICES (above)

  Come with us, come with us from Felsensee.

  VOICES (from below)

  Aloft to you we would mount with glee!

  We wash, and free from all stain are we,

  Yet barren evermore must be!

  BOTH CHORUSES

  The wind is hushed, the stars grow pale,

  The pensive moon her light doth veil;

  And whirling on, the magic choir

  Sputters forth sparks of drizzling fire.

  VOICE (from below)

  Stay! stay!

  VOICE (from above)

  What voice of woe

  Calls from the cavern’d depths below?

  VOICE (from below)

  Take me with you! Oh take me too!

  Three centuries I climb in vain,

  And yet can ne’er the summit gain!

  To be with my kindred I am fain.

  BOTH CHORUSES

  Broom and pitch-fork, goat and prong,

  Mounted on these we whirl along;

  Who vainly strives to climb tonight,

  Is evermore a luckless wight!

  DEMI-WITCH (below)

  I hobble after, many a day;

  Already the others are far away!

  No rest at home can I obtain —

  Here too my efforts are in vain!

  CHORUS OF WITCHES

  Salve gives the witches strength to rise;

  A rag for a sail does well enough;

  A goodly ship is every trough;

  Tonight who flies not, never flies.

  BOTH CHORUSES

  And when the topmost peak we round,

  Then alight ye on the ground;

  The heath’s wide regions cover ye

  With your mad swarms of witchery!

  [They let themselves down.]

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  They crowd and jostle, whirl and flutter!

  They whisper, babble, twirl, and splutter!

  They glimmer, sparkle, stink and flare —

  A true witch-element! Beware!

  Stick close! else we shall severed be.

  Where art thou?

  FAUST (in the distance)

  Here!

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Already, whirl’d so far away!

  The master then indeed I needs must play.

  Give ground! Squire Voland comes! Sweet folk, give ground!

  Here, doctor, grasp me! With a single bound

  Let us escape this ceaseless jar;

  Even for me too mad these people are.

  Hard by there shineth something with peculiar glare,

  Yon brake allureth me; it is not far;

  Come, come along with me! we’ll slip in there.

  FAUST

  Spirit of contradiction! Lead! I’ll follow straight!

  ’Twas wisely done, however, to repair

  On May-night to the Brocken, and when there,

  By our own choice ourselves to isolate!

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Mark, of those flames the motley glare!

  A merry club assembles there.

  In a small circle one is not alone.

  FAUST

  I’d rather be above, though, I must own!

  Already fire and eddying smoke I view;

  The impetuous millions to the devil ride;

  Full many a riddle will be there untied.

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Ay! and full many a riddle tied anew.

  But let the great world rave and riot!

  Here will we house ourselves in quiet.

  A custom ’tis of ancient date,

  Our lesser worlds within the great world to create!

  Young witches there I see, naked and bare,

  And old ones, veil’d more prudently.

  For my sake only courteous be!

  The trouble small, the sport is rare.

  Of instruments I hear the cursed din —

  One must get used to it. Come in! come in!

 
There’s now no help for it. I’ll step before,

  And introducing you as my good friend,

  Confer on you one obligation more.

  How say you now? ’Tis no such paltry room;

  Why only look, you scarce can see the end.

  A hundred fires in rows disperse the gloom;

  They dance, they talk, they cook, make love, and drink:

  Where could we find aught better, do you think?

  FAUST

  To introduce us, do you purpose here

  As devil or as wizard to appear?

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Though I am wont indeed to strict incognito,

  Yet upon gala-days one must one’s orders show.

  No garter have I to distinguish me,

  Nathless the cloven foot doth here give dignity.

  Seest thou yonder snail? Crawling this way she hies;

  With searching feelers, she, no doubt,

  Hath me already scented out;

  Here, even if I would, for me there’s no disguise.

  From fire to fire, we’ll saunter at our leisure,

  The gallant you, I’ll cater for your pleasure.

  (To a party seated round, some expiring embers)

  Old gentleman, apart, why sit ye moping here?

  Ye in the midst should be of all this jovial cheer,

  Girt round with noise and youthful riot;

  At home one surely has enough of quiet.

  GENERAL

  In nations put his trust, who may,

  Whate’er for them one may have done;

  For with the people, as with women, they

  Honor your rising stars alone!

  MINISTER

  Now all too far they wander from the right;

  I praise the good old ways, to them I hold,

  Then was the genuine age of gold,

  When we ourselves were foremost in men’s sight.

  PARVENU

  Ne’er were we ‘mong your dullards found,

  And what we ought not, that to do were fair;

  Yet now are all things turning round and round,

  When on firm basis we would them maintain.

  AUTHOR

  Who, as a rule, a treatise now would care

  To read, of even moderate sense?

  As for the rising generation, ne’er

  Has youth displayed such arrogant pretense.

  MEPHISTOPHELES (suddenly appearing very old)

  Since for the last time I the Brocken scale,

  That folk are ripe for doomsday, now one sees;

  And just because my cask begins to fail,

  So the whole world is also on the lees.

  HUCKSTER-WITCH

  Stop, gentlemen, nor pass me by,

  Of wares I have a choice collection:

  Pray honor them with your inspection.

  Lose not this opportunity!

  Yet nothing in my booth you’ll find

  Without its counterpart on earth; there’s naught,

  Which to the world, and to mankind,

  Hath not some direful mischief wrought.

  No dagger here, which hath not flow’d with blood,

  No chalice, whence, into some healthy frame

  Hath not been poured hot poison’s wasting flood.

  No trinket, but hath wrought some woman’s shame,

  No weapon but hath cut some sacred tie,

  Or from behind hath stabb’d an enemy.

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Gossip! For wares like these the time’s gone by,

  What’s done is past! what’s past is done!

  With novelties your booth supply;

  Us novelties attract alone.

  FAUST

  May this wild scene my senses spare!

  This, may in truth be called a fair!

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Upward the eddying concourse throng;

  Thinking to push, thyself art push’d along.

  FAUST

  Who’s that, pray?

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Mark her well! That’s Lilith.

  FAUST

  Who?

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Adam’s first wife. Of her rich locks beware!

  That charm in which she’s parallel’d by few,

  When in its toils a youth she doth ensnare

  He will not soon escape, I promise you.

  FAUST

  There sit a pair, the old one with the young;

  Already they have bravely danced and sprung!

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Here there is no repose today.

  Another dance begins; we’ll join it, come away!

  FAUST (dancing with the young one)

  Once a fair vision came to me;

  Therein I saw an apple-tree,

  Two beauteous apples charmed mine eyes;

  I climb’d forthwith to reach the prize.

  THE FAIR ONE

  Apples still fondly ye desire,

  From paradise it hath been so.

  Feelings of joy my breast inspire

  That such too in my garden grow.

  MEPHISTOPHELES (with the old one)

  Once a weird vision came to me;

  Therein I saw a rifted tree.

  It had a…..;

  But as it was it pleased me too.

  THE OLD ONE

  I beg most humbly to salute

  The gallant with the cloven foot!

  Let him … have ready here,

  If he a … does not fear.

  PROCTOPHANTASMIST

  Accursed mob! How dare ye thus to meet?

  Have I not shown and demonstrated too,

  That ghosts stand not on ordinary feet?

  Yet here ye dance, as other mortals do!

  THE FAIR ONE (dancing)

  Then at our ball, what doth he here?

  FAUST (dancing)

  Oh! He must everywhere appear.

  He must adjudge, when others dance;

  If on each step his say’s not said,

  So is that step as good as never made.

  He’s most annoyed, so soon as we advance;

  If ye would circle in one narrow round.

  As he in his old mill, then doubtless he

  Your dancing would approve, — especially

  If ye forthwith salute him with respect profound!

  PROCTOPHANTASMIST

  Still here! what arrogance! unheard of quite!

  Vanish; we now have fill’d the world with light!

  Laws are unheeded by the devil’s host;

  Wise as we are, yet Tegel hath its ghost!

  How long at this conceit I’ve swept with all my might,

  Lost is the labor: ’tis unheard of quite!

  THE FAIR ONE

  Cease here to tease us any more, I pray.

  PROCTOPHANTASMIST

  Spirits, I plainly to your face declare:

  No spiritual control myself will bear,

  Since my own spirit can exert no sway.

  [The dancing continues.]

  Tonight, I see, I shall in naught succeed;

  But I’m prepar’d my travels to pursue,

  And hope, before my final step indeed,

  To triumph over bards and devils too.

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Now in some puddle will he take his station,

  Such is his mode of seeking consolation;

  Where leeches, feasting on his rump, will drain

  Spirits alike and spirit from his brain.

  (To FAUST, who has left the dance)

  But why the charming damsel leave, I pray,

  Who to you in the dance so sweetly sang?

  FAUST

  Ah! in the very middle of her lay,

  Out of her mouth a small red mouse there sprang.

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Suppose there did! One must not be too nice.

  ’Twas well it was not gray, let that suffice.

  Who ‘mid his pleasures for a trifle
cares?

  FAUST

  Then saw I —

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  What?

  FAUST

  Mephisto, seest thou there

  Standing far off, a lone child, pale and fair!

  Slow from the spot her drooping form she tears,

  And seems with shackled feet to move along;

  I own, within me the delusion’s strong,

  That she the likeness of my Gretchen wears.

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Gaze not upon her! ’Tis not good! Forbear!

  ’Tis lifeless, magical, a shape of air,

  An idol. Such to meet with, bodes no good;

  That rigid look of hers doth freeze man’s blood,

  And well-nigh petrifies his heart to stone: —

  The story of Medusa thou hast known.

  FAUST

  Ay, verily! a corpse’s eyes are those,

  Which there was no fond loving hand to close.

  That is the bosom I so fondly press’d,

  That my sweet Gretchen’s form, so oft caress’d!

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Deluded fool! ’Tis magic, I declare!

  To each she doth his lov’d one’s image wear.

  FAUST

  What bliss! what torture! vainly I essay

  To turn me from that piteous look away.

  How strangely doth a single crimson line

  Around that lovely neck its coil entwine,

  It shows no broader than a knife’s blunt edge!

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  Quite right. I see it also, and allege

  That she beneath her arm her head can bear,

  Since Perseus cut it off. — But you I swear

  Are craving for illusions still!

  Come then, ascend yon little hill!

  As on the Prater all is gay,

  And if my senses are not gone,

  I see a theatre, — what’s going on?

  SERVIBILIS

  They are about to recommence; — the play,

  Will be the last of seven, and spick-span new —

  ’Tis usual here that number to present.

  A dilettante did the piece invent,

  And dilettanti will enact it too.

  Excuse me, gentlemen; to me’s assign’d,

  As dilettante to uplift the curtain.

  MEPHISTOPHELES

  You on the Blocksberg I’m rejoiced to find,

  That ’tis your most appropriate sphere is certain.

  INTERMEZZO: WALPURGIS-NIGHT’S DREAM

  OR, OBERON AND TITANIA’S GOLDEN WEDDING-FEAST

  * * * * *

  THEATRE

  MANAGER

  Vales, where mists still shift and play,

  To ancient hill succeeding, —

  These our scenes; — so we, today,

  May rest, brave sons of Mieding.

  HERALD

  That the marriage golden be,

  Must fifty years be ended;

  More dear this feast of gold to me,

  Contention now suspended.

  OBERON

  Spirits, if present, grace the scene,

  And if with me united,

 

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