No More Learning

How odd!
My very eyes believe I?
Oberon, the beauteous God
Here, to-night perceive I!

_Orthodox_. Neither claws, nor tail I see!
And yet, without a cavil,
Just as "the Gods of Greece"[42] were, he
Must also be a devil.

_Northern artist_. What here I catch is, to be sure,
But sketchy recreation;
And yet for my Italian tour
'Tis timely preparation.

_Purist_. Bad luck has brought me here, I see!
The rioting grows louder.
And of the whole witch company,
There are but two, wear powder.

_Young witch_. Powder becomes, like petticoat,
Your little, gray old woman:
Naked I sit upon my goat,
And show the untrimmed human.

_Matron_. To stand here jawing[43] with you, we
Too much good-breeding cherish;
But young and tender though you be,
I hope you'll rot and perish.

_Leader of the music_. Fly-snouts and gnat-noses, please,
Swarm not so round the naked!
Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees,
Keep time and don't forsake it!

_Weathercock_ [_towards one side_]. Find better company, who can!
Here, brides attended duly!
There, bachelors, ranged man by man,
Most hopeful people truly!

_Weathercock [towards the other side_].
And if the ground don't open straight,
The crazy crew to swallow,
You'll see me, at a furious rate,
Jump down to hell's black hollow.

_Xenia[_44] We are here as insects, ah!
Small, sharp nippers wielding,
Satan, as our _cher papa_,
Worthy honor yielding.

_Hennings_. See how naively, there, the throng
Among themselves are jesting,
You'll hear them, I've no doubt, ere long,
Their good kind hearts protesting.

_Musagetes_. Apollo in this witches' group
Himself right gladly loses;
For truly I could lead this troop
Much easier than the muses.

_Ci-devant genius of the age_. Right company will raise man up.
Come, grasp my skirt, Lord bless us!
The Blocksberg has a good broad top,
Like Germany's Parnassus.

_Curious traveller_. Tell me who is that stiff man?
With what stiff step he travels!
He noses out whate'er he can.
"He scents the Jesuit devils. "

_Crane_. In clear, and muddy water, too,
The long-billed gentleman fishes;
Our pious gentlemen we view
Fingering in devils' dishes.

_Child of this world_. Yes, with the pious ones, 'tis clear,
"All's grist that comes to their mill;"
They build their tabernacles here,
On Blocksberg, as on Carmel.

_Dancer_. Hark! a new choir salutes my ear!
I hear a distant drumming.
"Be not disturbed! 'mong reeds you hear
The one-toned bitterns bumming. "

_Dancing-master. _ How each his legs kicks up and flings,
Pulls foot as best he's able!
The clumsy hops, the crooked springs,
'Tis quite disreputable!

_Fiddler_. The scurvy pack, they hate, 'tis clear,
Like cats and dogs, each other.
Like Orpheus' lute, the bagpipe here
Binds beast to beast as brother.

_Dogmatist_. You'll not scream down my reason, though,
By criticism's cavils.
The devil's something, that I know,
Else how could there be devils?

_Idealist_. Ah, phantasy, for once thy sway
Is guilty of high treason.
If all I see is I, to-day,
'Tis plain I've lost my reason.

_Realist_. To me, of all life's woes and plagues,
Substance is most provoking,
For the first time I feel my legs
Beneath me almost rocking.

_Supernaturalist_. I'm overjoyed at being here,
And even among these rude ones;
For if bad spirits are, 'tis clear,
There also must be good ones.

_Skeptic_. Where'er they spy the flame they roam,
And think rich stores to rifle,
Here such as I are quite at home,
For _Zweifel_ rhymes with _Teufel_. [45]

_Leader of the music_. Grass-hid cricket, frogs in trees,
You cursed dilettanti!
Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, peace!
Musicians you, right jaunty!

_The Clever ones_. Sans-souci we call this band
Of merry ones that skip it;
Unable on our feet to stand,
Upon our heads we trip it.

_The Bunglers_. Time was, we caught our tit-bits, too,
God help us now! that's done with!
We've danced our leathers entirely through,
And have only bare soles to run with.

_Jack-o'lanterns_. From the dirty bog we come,
Whence we've just arisen:
Soon in the dance here, quite at home,
As gay young _sparks_ we'll glisten.

_Shooting star_. Trailing from the sky I shot,
Not a star there missed me:
Crooked up in this grassy spot,
Who to my legs will assist me?

_The solid men_. Room there! room there! clear the ground!
Grass-blades well may fall so;
Spirits are we, but 'tis found
They have plump limbs also.

_Puck_. Heavy men! do not, I say,
Like elephants' calves go stumping:
Let the plumpest one to-day
Be Puck, the ever-jumping.

_Ariel_. If the spirit gave, indeed,
If nature gave you, pinions,
Follow up my airy lead
To the rose-dominions!

_Orchestra_ [_pianissimo_]. Gauzy mist and fleecy cloud
Sun and wind have banished.
Foliage rustles, reeds pipe loud,
All the show has vanished.




DREARY DAY. [46]

_Field_.


FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.

_Faust_. In wretchedness! In despair! Long hunted up and down the earth, a
miserable fugitive, and caught at last! Locked up as a malefactor in
prison, to converse with horrible torments--the sweet, unhappy creature!
Even to this pass! even to this! --Treacherous, worthless spirit, and this
thou hast hidden from me! --Stand up here--stand up! Roll thy devilish eyes
round grimly in thy head! Stand and defy me with thy intolerable presence!
Imprisoned! In irretrievable misery! Given over to evil spirits and to the
judgment of unfeeling humanity, and me meanwhile thou lullest in insipid
dissipations, concealest from me her growing anguish, and leavest her
without help to perish!

_Mephistopheles_. She is not the first!

_Faust_. Dog! abominable monster! Change him, thou Infinite Spirit! change
the worm back into his canine form, as he was often pleased in the night
to trot before me, to roll before the feet of the harmless wanderer, and,
when he fell, to hang on his shoulders. Change him again into his favorite
shape, that he may crawl before me on his belly in the sand, and that I
may tread him under foot, the reprobate! --Not the first! Misery! Misery!
inconceivable by any human soul! that more than one creature ever sank
into the depth of this wretchedness, that the first in its writhing
death-agony did not atone for the guilt of all the rest before the eyes of
the eternally Forgiving! My very marrow and life are consumed by the
misery of this single one; thou grinnest away composedly at the fate of
thousands!

_Mephistopheles_. Here we are again at our wits' ends already, where the
thread of sense, with you mortals, snaps short. Why make a partnership
with us, if thou canst not carry it through? Wilt fly, and art not proof
against dizziness? Did we thrust ourselves on thee, or thou on us?

_Faust_. Gnash not so thy greedy teeth against me! It disgusts me! --Great
and glorious spirit, thou that deignedst to appear to me, who knowest my
heart and soul, why yoke me to this shame-fellow, who feeds on mischief
and feasts on ruin?

_Mephistopheles_. Hast thou done?

_Faust_. Rescue her! O woe be unto thee! The most horrible curse on thee
for thousands of years!

_Mephistopheles_. I cannot loose the bonds of the avenger, nor open his
bolts. --Rescue her! --Who was it that plunged her into ruin? I or thou?
[FAUST _looks wildly round_. ]
Grasp'st thou after the thunder? Well that it was not given to you
miserable mortals! To crush an innocent respondent, that is a sort of
tyrant's-way of getting room to breathe in embarrassment.

_Faust_. Lead me to her! She shall be free!

_Mephistopheles_. And the danger which thou incurrest? Know that the guilt
of blood at thy hand still lies upon the town. Over the place of the
slain, avenging spirits hover and lurk for the returning murderer.

_Faust_. That, too, from thee? Murder and death of a world upon thee,
monster! Lead me thither, I say, and free her!

_Mephistopheles_. I will lead thee, and hear what I can do! Have I all
power in heaven and on earth? I will becloud the turnkey's senses; possess
thyself of the keys, and bear her out with human hand. I will watch! The
magic horses shall be ready, and I will bear you away. So much I can do.

_Faust_. Up and away!




NIGHT. OPEN FIELD.

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.
_Scudding along on black horses_.

_Faust_. What's doing, off there, round the gallows-tree? [47]

_Mephistopheles_. Know not what they are doing and brewing.

_Faust_. Up they go--down they go--wheel about, reel about.

_Mephistopheles_. A witches'-crew.

_Faust_. They're strewing and vowing.

_Mephistopheles_. Pass on! Pass on!




PRISON.

FAUST [_with a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door_]
A long unwonted chill comes o'er me,
I feel the whole great load of human woe.
Within this clammy wall that frowns before me
Lies one whom blinded love, not guilt, brought low!
Thou lingerest, in hope to grow bolder!
Thou fearest again to behold her!
On! Thy shrinking slowly hastens the blow!
[_He grasps the key. Singing from within_. ]
My mother, the harlot,
That strung me up!
My father, the varlet,
That ate me up!
My sister small,
She gathered up all
The bones that day,
And in a cool place did lay;
Then I woke, a sweet bird, at a magic call;
Fly away, fly away!

_Faust [unlocking_]. She little dreams, her lover is so near,
The clanking chains, the rustling straw can hear;
[_He enters_. ]

_Margaret [burying herself in the bed_]. Woe! woe!
They come. O death of bitterness!

_Faust_ [_softly_]. Hush! hush! I come to free thee; thou art dreaming.

_Margaret_ [_prostrating herself before him_].
Art thou a man, then feel for my distress.

_Faust_. Thou'lt wake the guards with thy loud screaming!
[_He seizes the chains to tin lock them. _]

_Margaret_ [_on her knees_]. Headsman, who's given thee this right
O'er me, this power!
Thou com'st for me at dead of night;
In pity spare me, one short hour!
Wilt't not be time when Matin bell has rung?
[_She stands up. _]
Ah, I am yet so young, so young!
And death pursuing!
Fair was I too, and that was my undoing.
My love was near, far is he now!
Tom is the wreath, the scattered flowers lie low.
Take not such violent hold of me!
Spare me! what harm have I done to thee?
Let me not in vain implore thee.
Thou ne'er till now sawft her who lies before thee!

_Faust_. O sorrow worse than death is o'er me!

_Margaret_. Now I am wholly in thy power.
But first I'd nurse my child--do not prevent me.
I hugged it through the black night hour;
They took it from me to torment me,
And now they say I killed the pretty flower.
I shall never be happy again, I know.
They sing vile songs at me! 'Tis bad in them to do it!
There's an old tale that ends just so,
Who gave that meaning to it?

_Faust [prostrates himself_]. A lover at thy feet is bending,
Thy bonds of misery would be rending.

_Margaret [flings herself beside him_].
O let us kneel, the saints for aid invoking!
See! 'neath the threshold smoking,
Fire-breathing,
Hell is seething!
There prowling,
And grim under cover,
Satan is howling!

_Faust [aloud_]. Margery! Margery!

_Margaret [listening_]. That was the voice of my lover!
[_She springs up. The chains fall off_. ]

Where is he? Where? He calls. I hear him.
I'm free! Who hinders? I will be near him.
I'll fly to his neck! I'll hold him!
To my bosom I'll enfold him!
He stood on the threshold--called Margery plainly!
Hell's howling and clattering to drown it sought vainly,--
Through the devilish, grim scoffs, that might turn one to stone,
I caught the sweet, loving, enrapturing tone.

_Faust_. 'Tis I!

_Margaret_. 'Tis thou! O say it once again.
[_Clasping again. _]
'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain?
And where the dungeon's anguish? Joy-giver!
'Tis thou! And come to deliver!
I am delivered!
Again before me lies the street,
Where for the first time thou and I did meet.
And the garden-bower,
Where we spent that evening hour.

_Faust_ [_trying to draw her away_]. Come! Come with me!

_Margaret_. O tarry!
I tarry so gladly where thou tarriest.
[_Caressing him. _]

_Faust_. Hurry!
Unless thou hurriest,
Bitterly we both must rue it.

_Margaret_. Kiss me! Canst no more do it?
So short an absence, love, as this,
And forgot how to kiss?
What saddens me so as I hang about thy neck?
When once, in thy words, thy looks, such a heaven of blisses
Came o'er me, I thought my heart would break,
And it seemed as if thou wouldst smother me with kisses.
Kiss thou me!
Else I kiss thee!
[_She embraces him. _]
Woe! woe! thy lips are cold,
Stone-dumb.
Where's thy love left?
Oh! I'm bereft!
Who robbed me?
[_She turns from him_]

_Faust_. O come!
Take courage, my darling! Let us go;
I clasp-thee with unutterable glow;
But follow me! For this alone I plead!

_Margaret [turning to him_]. Is it, then, thou?
And is it thou indeed?

_Faust_. 'Tis I! Come, follow me!

_Margaret_. Thou break'st my chain,
And tak'st me to thy breast again!
How comes it, then, that thou art not afraid of me?
And dost thou know, my friend, who 'tis thou settest free?

_Faust_. Come! come! The night is on the wane.

_Margaret_. Woe! woe! My mother I've slain!
Have drowned the babe of mine!
Was it not sent to be mine and thine?
Thine, too--'tis thou! Scarce true doth it seem.
Give me thy hand! 'Tis not a dream!
Thy blessed hand! --But ah! there's dampness here!
Go, wipe it off! I fear
There's blood thereon.
Ah God! what hast thou done!
Put up thy sword again;
I pray thee, do!

_Faust_. The past is past--there leave it then,
Thou kill'st me too!

_Margaret_. No, thou must longer tarry!
I'll tell thee how each thou shalt bury;
The places of sorrow
Make ready to-morrow;
Must give the best place to my mother,
The very next to my brother,
Me a little aside,
But make not the space too wide!
And on my right breast let the little one lie.
No one else will be sleeping by me.
Once, to feel _thy_ heart beat nigh me,
Oh, 'twas a precious, a tender joy!
But I shall have it no more--no, never;
I seem to be forcing myself on thee ever,
And thou repelling me freezingly;
And 'tis thou, the same good soul, I see.

_Faust_. If thou feelest 'tis I, then come with me

_Margaret_. Out yonder?

_Faust_. Into the open air.

_Margaret_. If the grave is there,
If death is lurking; then come!
From here to the endless resting-place,
And not another pace--Thou
go'st e'en now? O, Henry, might I too.

_Faust_. Thou canst! 'Tis but to will! The door stands open.

_Margaret_. I dare not go; for me there's no more hoping.
What use to fly? They lie in wait for me.
So wretched the lot to go round begging,
With an evil conscience thy spirit plaguing!
So wretched the lot, an exile roaming--And
then on my heels they are ever coming!

_Faust_. I shall be with thee.

_Margaret_. Make haste! make haste!
No time to waste!
Save thy poor child!
Quick! follow the edge
Of the rushing rill,
Over the bridge
And by the mill,
Then into the woods beyond
On the left where lies the plank
Over the pond.
Seize hold of it quick!
To rise 'tis trying,
It struggles still!
Rescue! rescue!

_Faust_. Bethink thyself, pray!
A single step and thou art free!

_Margaret_. Would we were by the mountain. See!
There sits my mother on a stone,
The sight on my brain is preying!
There sits my mother on a stone,
And her head is constantly swaying;
She beckons not, nods not, her head falls o'er,
So long she's been sleeping, she'll wake no more.
She slept that we might take pleasure.
O that was bliss without measure!

_Faust_. Since neither reason nor prayer thou hearest;
I must venture by force to take thee, dearest.

_Margaret_.