Part 53

MARTHA (coming)

Yes, Sir, ’tis late.

FAUST

May I not, then, upon you wait?

MARGARET My mother would—farewell!

FAUST

Ah, can I not remain? Farewell!

MARTHA

Adieu!

MARGARET

And soon to meet again!

MARGARET

Dear God! However is it, such A man can think and know so much? I stand ashamed and in amaze, And answer “Yes” to all he says, A poor, unknowing child! and he— I can’t think what he finds in me! [Exit.

XIV

FOREST AND CAVERN

FAUST (solus)

Spirit sublime, thou gav’st me, gav’st me all For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire. Thou gav’st me Nature as a kingdom grand, With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield’st, But grantest, that in her profoundest breast I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend. The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead Before me, teaching me to know my brothers In air and water and the silent wood. And when the storm in forests roars and grinds, The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down, And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,— Then to the cave secure thou leadest me, Then show’st me mine own self, and in my breast The deep, mysterious miracles unfold. And when the perfect moon before my gaze Comes up with soothing light, around me float From every precipice and thicket damp The silvery phantoms of the ages past, And temper the austere delight of thought.

That nothing can be perfect unto Man I now am conscious. With this ecstasy, Which brings me near and nearer to the Gods, Thou gav’st the comrade, whom I now no more Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he Demeans me to myself, and with a breath, A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness. Within my breast he fans a lawless fire, Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form: Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment, And in enjoyment pine to feel desire.

(MEPHISTOPHELES enters.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

Have you not led this life quite long enough? How can a further test delight you? ’Tis very well, that once one tries the stuff, But something new must then requite you.

FAUST

Would there were other work for thee! To plague my day auspicious thou returnest.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Well! I’ll engage to let thee be: Thou darest not tell me so in earnest. The loss of thee were truly very slight,— comrade crazy, rude, repelling:

One has one’s hands full all the day and night; If what one does, or leaves undone, is right, From such a face as thine there is no telling.

FAUST

There is, again, thy proper tone!— That thou hast bored me, I must thankful be!