Part 72

'Tis he! 'Tis he! where's now the torturing pain? Where are the fetters? where the dungeon's gloom? 'Tis thou! To save me thou art come! And I am sav'd!-- Already now the street I see Where the first time I caught a glimpse of thee. There too the pleasant garden shade, Where I and Martha for thy coming stay'd.

FAUST (endeavouring to lead her away,)

Come! come away!

MARGARET

Oh do not haste! I love to linger where thou stayest. (caressing him.)

FAUST

Ah haste! For if thou still delayest, Our lingering we shall both deplore.

MARGARET

How, dearest? canst thou kiss no more! So short a time away from me, and yet, To kiss thou couldst so soon forget! Why on thy neck so anxious do I feel-- When formerly a perfect heaven of bliss From thy dear looks and words would o'er me steal? As thou wouldst stifle me thou then didst kiss!-- Kiss me! Or I'll kiss thee! (She embraces him.)

Woe! woe! Thy lips are cold,-- Are dumb! Thy love where hast thou left? Who bath me of thy love bereft? (She turns away from him.)

FAUST

Come! Follow me, my dearest love, be bold! I'll cherish thee with ardour thousand-fold; I but entreat thee now to follow me!

MARGARET (turning towards him)

And art thou he? and art thou really he?

FAUST

'Tis I! O come!

MARGARET

Thou wilt strike off my chain, And thou wilt take me to thine arms again. How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?-- And dost thou know, love, whom thou wouldst set free?

FAUST

Come! come! already night begins to wane.

MARGARET

I sent my mother to her grave, I drown'd my child beneath the wave. Was it not given to thee and me--thee too? 'Tis thou thyself! I scarce believe it yet. Give me thy hand! It is no dream! 'Tis true! Thine own dear hand!--But how is this? 'Tis wet? Quick, wipe it off! Meseems that yet There's blood thereon. Ah God! what hast thou done? Put up thy sword, I beg of thee!

FAUST

Oh, dearest, let the past forgotten be! Death is in every word.

MARGARET

No, thou must linger here in sorrow! The graves I will describe to thee, And thou to them must see To-morrow: The best place give to my mother, Close at her side my brother, Me at some distance lay-- But not too far away! And the little one place on my right breast. Nobody else will near me lie! To nestle beside thee so lovingly, That was a rapture, gracious and sweet! A rapture I never again shall prove; Methinks I would force myself on thee, love, And thou dost spurn me, and back retreat-- Yet 'tis thyself, thy fond kind looks I see.

FAUST

If thou dost feel 'tis I, then come with me!