Part 56

MARGARET (walking towards home)

How stoutly once I could inveigh, If a poor maiden went astray; Not words enough my tongue could find, 'Gainst others' sin to speak my mind! Black as it seemed, I blacken'd it still more, And strove to make it blacker than before. And did myself securely bless-- Now my own trespass doth appear! Yet ah!--what urg'd me to transgress, God knows, it was so sweet, so dear!

ZWINGER

Enclosure between the City-wall and the Gate. (In the niche of the wall a devotional image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower-pots before it.)

MARGARET (putting fresh flowers in the pots)

Ah, rich in sorrow, thou, Stoop thy maternal brow, And mark with pitying eye my misery! The sword in thy pierced heart, Thou dost with bitter smart, Gaze upwards on thy Son's death agony. To the dear God on high, Ascends thy piteous sigh, Pleading for his and thy sore misery. Ah, who can know The torturing woe, The pangs that rack me to the bone? How my poor heart, without relief, Trembles and throbs, its yearning grief Thou knowest, thou alone! Ah, wheresoe'er I go, With woe, with woe, with woe, My anguish'd breast is aching! When all alone I creep, I weep, I weep, I weep, Alas! my heart is breaking! The flower-pots at my window Were wet with tears of mine, The while I pluck'd these blossoms, At dawn to deck thy shrine! When early in my chamber Shone bright the rising morn, I sat there on my pallet, My heart with anguish torn. Help! from disgrace and death deliver me! Ah! rich in sorrow, thou, Stoop thy maternal brow, And mark with pitying eye my misery!

NIGHT. STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR

VALENTINE (a soldier, MARGARET'S brother)

When seated 'mong the jovial crowd, Where merry comrades boasting loud Each named with pride his favourite lass, And in her honour drain'd his glass; Upon my elbows I would lean, With easy quiet view the scene, Nor give my tongue the rein until Each swaggering blade had talked his fill. Then smiling I my beard would stroke, The while, with brimming glass, I spoke; "Each to his taste!--but to my mind, Where in the country will you find, A maid, as my dear Gretchen fair, Who with my sister can compare?" Cling! Clang! so rang the jovial sound! Shouts of assent went circling round; Pride of her sex is she!--cried some; Then were the noisy boasters dumb.

And now I--I could tear out my hair, Or dash my brains out in despair!-- Me every scurvy knave may twit, With stinging jest and taunting sneer! Like skulking debtor I must sit, And sweat each casual word to hear! And though I smash'd them one and all,-- Yet them I could not liars call. Who comes this way? who's sneaking here? If I mistake not, two draw near. If he be one, have at him;--well I wot Alive he shall not leave this spot!

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES

FAUST

How from yon sacristy, athwart the night, Its beams the ever-burning taper throws, While ever waning, fades the glimmering light, As gathering darkness doth around it close! So night-like gloom doth in my bosom reign.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I'm like a tom-cat in a thievish vein, That up fire-ladders tall and steep, And round the walls doth slyly creep; Virtuous withal, I feel, with, I confess, A touch of thievish joy and wantonness. Thus through my limbs already burns The glorious Walpurgis night! After to-morrow it returns, Then why one wakes, one knows aright!

FAUST

Meanwhile, the treasure I see glimmering there, Will it ascend into the open air?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ere long thou wilt proceed with pleasure, To raise the casket with its treasure; I took a peep, therein are stored, Of lion-dollars a rich hoard.

FAUST

And not a trinket? not a ring? Wherewith my lovely girl to deck?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I saw among them some such thing, A string of pearls to grace her neck.

FAUST

'Tis well! I'm always loath to go, Without some gift my love to show.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Some pleasures gratis to enjoy, Should surely cause you no annoy. While bright with stars the heavens appear, I'll sing a masterpiece of art: A moral song shall charm her ear, More surely to beguile her heart. (Sings to the guitar.)'

Kathrina say, Why lingering stay At dawn of day Before your lover's door? Maiden, beware, Nor enter there, Lest forth you fare, A maiden never more.