Part 15

'Tis well, I hope that we shall soon agree! For now your fancies to expel, Here, as a youth of high degree, I come in gold-lac'd scarlet vest, And stiff-silk mantle richly dress'd, A cock's gay feather for a plume, A long and pointed rapier, too; And briefly I would counsel you To don at once the same costume, And, free from trammels, speed away, That what life is you may essay.

FAUST

In every garb I needs must feel oppress'd, My heart to earth's low cares a prey. Too old the trifler's part to play, Too young to live by no desire possess'd. What can the world to me afford? Renounce! renounce! is still the word; This is the everlasting song In every ear that ceaseless rings, And which, alas, our whole life long, Hoarsely each passing moment sings. But to new horror I awake each morn, And I could weep hot tears, to see the sun Dawn on another day, whose round forlorn Accomplishes no wish of mine--not one. Which still, with froward captiousness, impains E'en the presentiment of every joy, While low realities and paltry cares The spirit's fond imaginings destroy. Then must I too, when falls the veil of night, Stretch'd on my pallet languish in despair, Appalling dreams my soul affright; No rest vouchsafed me even there. The god, who throned within my breast resides, Deep in my soul can stir the springs; With sovereign sway my energies he guides, He cannot move external things; And so existence is to me a weight. Death fondly I desire, and life I hate.

MEPHISTOPHELES

And yet, methinks, by most 'twill be confess'd That Death is never quite a welcome guest.

FAUST

Happy the man around whose brow he binds The bloodstain'd wreath in conquest's dazzling hour; Or whom, excited by the dance, he finds Dissolv'd in bliss, in love's delicious bower! O that before the lofty spirit's might, Enraptured, I had rendered up my soul!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yet did a certain man refrain one night, Of its brown juice to drain the crystal bowl.

FAUST

To play the spy diverts you then?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I own, Though not omniscient, much to me is known.

FAUST

If o'er my soul the tone familiar, stealing, Drew me from harrowing thought's bewild'ring maze, Touching the ling'ring chords of childlike feeling, With sweet harmonies of happier days: So curse I all, around the soul that windeth Its magic and alluring spell, And with delusive flattery bindeth Its victim to this dreary cell! Curs'd before all things be the high opinion, Wherewith the spirit girds itself around! Of shows delusive curs'd be the dominion, Within whose mocking sphere our sense is bound! Accurs'd of dreams the treacherous wiles, The cheat of glory, deathless fame! Accurs'd what each as property beguiles, Wife, child, slave, plough, whate'er its name! Accurs'd be mammon, when with treasure He doth to daring deeds incite: Or when to steep the soul in pleasure, He spreads the couch of soft delight! Curs'd be the grape's balsamic juice! Accurs'd love's dream, of joys the first! Accurs'd be hope! accurs'd be faith! And more than all, be patience curs'd!

CHORUS OP SPIRITS (invisible)

Woe! woe! Thou hast destroy'd The beautiful world With violent blow; 'Tis shiver'd! 'tis shatter'd! The fragments abroad by a demigod scatter'd! Now we sweep The wrecks into nothingness! Fondly we weep The beauty that's gone! Thou, 'mongst the Sons of earth, Lofty and mighty one, Build it once more! In thine own bosom the lost world restore! Now with unclouded sense Enter a new career; Songs shall salute thine ear, Ne'er heard before!

MEPHISTOPHELES

My little ones these spirits be. Hark! with shrewd intelligence, How they recommend to thee Action, and the joys of sense! In the busy world to dwell, Fain they would allure thee hence: For within this lonely cell, Stagnate sap of life and sense.

Forbear to trifle longer with thy grief, Which, vulture-like, consumes thee in this den. The worst society is some relief, Making thee feel thyself a man with men. Nathless, it is not meant, I trow, To thrust thee 'mid the vulgar throng.

I to the upper ranks do not belong; Yet if, by me companion'd, thou Thy steps through life forthwith wilt take; Upon the spot myself I'll make Thy comrade;-- Should it suit thy need, I am thy servant, am thy slave indeed!

FAUST

And how must I thy services repay?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Thereto thou lengthen'd respite hast!

FAUST

No! No! The devil is an egoist I know: And, for Heaven's sake, 'tis not his way Kindness to any one to show. Let the condition plainly be exprest! Such a domestic is a dangerous guest.

MEPHISTOPHELES