powers, her embryo seeds survey, And fling the trade in empty words away.
O full - orb'd moon, did but thy rays Their last upon mine anguish gaze!
Beside this desk, at dead of night, Oft have I watched to hail thy light: Then,
pensive friend! o'er book and scroll, With soothing power, thy radiance stole!
In thy dear light, ah, might I climb, Freely, some mountain height sublime,
Round mountain caves with spirits ride, In thy mild haze o'er meadows glide,
And, purged from knowledge - fumes, renew My spirit, in thy healing dew!
Woe's me! still prison'd in the gloom Of this abhorr'd and musty room! Where
heaven's dear light itself doth pass, But dimly through the painted glass!
Hemmed in by volumes thick with dust, Worm - eaten, hid 'neath rust and
mould, And to the high vault's topmost bound, A smoke - stained paper
compassed round; With boxes round thee piled, and glass, And many a
useless instrument, With old ancestral lumber blent This is thy world! a world!
alas! And dost thou ask why heaves thy heart, With tighten'd pressure in thy
breast? Why the dull ache will not depart, By which thy life - pulse is
oppress'd? Instead of nature's living sphere, Created for mankind of old,
Brute skeletons surround thee here, And dead men's bones in smoke and
mould.
Up! Forth into the distant land! Is not this book of mystery By Nostradamus'
proper hand, An all - sufficient guide? Thou'lt see The courses of the stars
unroll'd; When nature doth her thoughts unfold To thee, thy soul shall rise, and
seek Communion high with her to hold, As spirit doth with spirit speak! Vain
by dull poring to divine The meaning of each hallow'd sign. Spirits! I feel you
hov'ring near; Make answer, if my voice ye hear!
(He opens the book and perceives the sign of the Macrocosmos.)
Ah! at this spectacle through every sense, What sudden ecstasy of joy is
flowing! I feel new rapture, hallow'd and intense, Through every nerve and
vein with ardour glowing. Was it a god who character'd this scroll, The tumult
in my spirit healing, O'er my sad heart with rapture stealing, And by a mystic
impulse, to my soul, The powers of nature all around revealing. Am I a God?
What light intense! In these pure symbols do I see, Nature exert her vital
energy. Now of the wise man's words I learn the sense;
"Unlock'd the spirit - world doth lie, Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead! Up
scholar, lave, with courage high, Thine earthly breast in the morning - red!"
(He contemplates the sign.)
How all things live and work, and ever blending, Weave one vast whole from
Being's ample range! How powers celestial, rising and descending, Their
golden buckets ceaseless interchange! Their flight on rapture - breathing
pinions winging, From heaven to earth their genial influence bringing, Through
the wild sphere their chimes melodious ringing!
A wondrous show! but ah! a show alone! Where shall I grasp thee, infinite
nature, where? Ye breasts, ye fountains of all life, whereon Hang heaven and
earth, from which the withered heart For solace yearns, ye still impart Your
sweet and fostering tides - where are ye - where? Ye gush, and must I
languish in despair?
(He turns over the leaves of the book impatiently, and perceives the sigh of
the Earth - spirit.)
How all unlike the influence of this sign! Earth - spirit, thou to me art nigher,
E'en now my strength is rising higher, E'en now I glow as with new wine;
Courage I feel, abroad the world to dare, The woe of earth, the bliss of earth
to bear, With storms to wrestle, brave the lightning's glare, And mid the
crashing shipwreck not despair.
Clouds gather over me The moon conceals her light The lamp is quench'd
Vapours are rising - Quiv'ring round my head Flash the red beams - Down
from the vaulted roof A shuddering horror floats, And seizes me! I feel it,
spirit, prayer - compell'd, 'tis thou Art hovering near! Unveil thyself! Ha! How
my heart is riven now! Each sense, with eager palpitation, Is strain'd to catch
some new sensation! I feel my heart surrender'd unto thee! Thou must! Thou
must! Though life should be the fee!
(He seizes the book, and pronounces mysteriously the sign of the spirit. A
ruddy flame flashes up; the spirit appears in the flame.)
Spirit
Who calls me?
Faust (turning aside) Dreadful shape! Spirit
With might,
Thou hast compelled me to appear, Long hast been sucking at my sphere,
And now
Dr. Johann Faust: Dr. Johann Faust watching a magic disc in his study.
Engraving by Rembrant.]
Faust
Woe's me! I cannot bear thy sight!
Spirit
To see me thou dost breathe thine invocation, My voice to hear, to gaze upon
my brow; Me doth thy strong entreaty bow Lo! I am here! - What cowering
agitation Grasps thee, the demigod! Where's now the soul's deep cry? Where
is the breast, which in its depths a world conceiv'd And bore and cherished?
which, with ecstacy, To rank itself with us, the spirits, heaved? Where art
thou, Faust? whose voice I heard resound, Who towards me press'd with
energy profound? Art thou he? Thou, - who by my breath art blighted, Who,
in his spirit's depths affrighted, Trembles, a crush'd and writhing worm!
Faust
Shall I yield, thing of flame, to thee? Faust, and thine equal, I am he!
Spirit
In the currents of life, in action's storm, I float and I wave With billowy
motion! Birth and the grave A limitless ocean, A constant weaving With
change still rife, A restless heaving, A glowing life Thus time's whirring loom
unceasing I ply, And weave the life - garment of deity.
Faust
Thou, restless spirit, dost from end to end O'ersweep the world; how near I
feel to thee!
Spirit
Thou'rt like the spirit, thou dost comprehend, Not me!
(Vanishes.)
Faust (deeply moved)
Not thee? Whom then? I, Gods own image! And not rank with thee!
(A knock)
Oh death! I know it - 'tis my famulus My fairest fortune now escapes! That all
these visionary shapes A soulless groveller should banish thus!
(Wagner in his dressing gown and night - cap, a lamp in his hand. Faust turns
round reluctantly.)
Wagner
Pardon! I heard you here declaim; A Grecian tragedy you doubtless read?
Improvement in this art is now my aim, For now - a - days it much avails.
Indeed An actor, oft I've heard it said, as teacher, May give instruction to a
preacher.
Faust
Ay, if your priest should be an actor too, As not improbably may come to
pass.
Wagner
When in his study pent the whole year through, Man views the world, as
through an optic glass, On a chance holiday, and scarcely then, How by
persuasion can he govern men?
Faust
If feeling prompt not, if it doth not flow Fresh from the spirit's depths, with
strong control Swaying to rapture every listener's soul, Idle your toil; the
chase you may forego! Brood o'er your task! Together glue, Cook from
another's feast your own ragout, Still prosecute your paltry game, And fan
your ash - heaps into flame! Thus children's wonder you'll excite, And apes', if
such your appetite; But that which issues from the heart alone, Will bend the
hearts of others to your own.
Wagner
The speaker in delivery will find Success alone; I still am far behind.
Faust
A worthy object still pursue! Be not a hollow tinkling fool! Sound
understanding, judgment true, Find utterance without art or rule; And when in
earnest you are moved to speak, Then is it needful cunning words to seek?
Your fine harangues, so polish'd in their kind, Wherein the shreds of human
thought ye twist, Are unrefreshing as the empty wind, Whistling through
wither'd leaves and autumn mist!
Wagner
Oh God! How long is art, Our life how short! With earnest zeal Still as I ply
the critic's task, I feel A strange oppression both of head and heart. The very
means how hardly are they won, By which we to the fountains rise! And
haply, ere one half the course is run, Check'd in his progress, the poor devil
dies.
Faust
Parchment, is that the sacred fount whence roll Waters, he thirsteth not who
once hath quaffed? Oh, if it gush not from thine inmost soul, Thou has not won
the life - restoring draught.
Wagner
Your pardon! 'tis delightful to transport Oneself into the spirit of the past, To
see in times before us how a wise man thought, And what a glorious height we
have achieved at last.
Faust
Ay truly! even to the loftiest star! To us, my friend, the ages that are pass'd A
book with seven seals, close - fasten'd, are; And what the spirit of the times
men call, Is merely their own spirit after all, Wherein, distorted oft, the times
are glass'd. Then truly, 'tis a sight to grieve the soul! At the first glance we fly it
in dismay; A very lumber - room, a rubbish - hole; At best a sort of mock -
heroic play, With saws pragmatical, and maxims sage, To suit the puppets
and their mimic stage.
Wagner
But then the world and man, his heart and brain! Touching these things all men
would something know.
Faust
Ay! what 'mong men as knowledge doth obtain! Who on the child its true
name dares bestow? The few who somewhat of these things have known,
Who their full hearts unguardedly reveal'd, Nor thoughts, nor feelings, from
the mob conceal'd, Have died on crosses, or in flames been thrown. Excuse
me, friend, far now the night is spent, For this time we must say adieu.
Wagner
Still to watch on I had been well content, Thus to converse so learnedly with
you. But as to - morrow will be Easter - day, Some further questions grant, I
pray; With diligence to study still I fondly cling; Already I know much, but
would know everything.
(Exit.)
Faust Soliloquy - Chorus Of Angels
Faust (alone)
How him alone all hope abandons never, To empty trash who clings, with zeal
untired, With greed for treasure gropes, and, joy - inspir'd, Exults if earth -
worms second his endeavour.
And dare a voice of merely human birth, E'en here, where shapes immortal
throng'd intrude? Yet ah! thou poorest of the sons of earth, For once, I e'en
to thee feel gratitude. Despair the power of sense did well - nigh blast, And
thou didst save me ere I sank dismay'd, So giant - like the vision seem'd, so
vast, I felt myself shrink dwarf'd as I survey'd!
I, God's own image, from this toil of clay Already freed, with eager joy who
hail'd The mirror of eternal truth unveil'd, Mid light effulgent and celestial day:
I, more than cherub, whose unfetter'd soul With penetrative glance aspir'd to
flow Through nature's veins, and, still creating, know The life of gods, - how
am I punish'd now! One thunder - word hath hurl'd me from the goal!
Spirit! I dare not lift me to thy sphere. What though my power compell'd thee
to appear, My art was powerless to detain thee here. In that great moment,
rapture - fraught, I felt myself so small, so great; Fiercely didst thrust me from
the realm of thought Back on humanity's uncertain fate! Who'll teach me now?
What ought I to forego? Ought I that impulse to obey? Alas! our every deed,
as well as every woe, Impedes the tenor of life's onward way!
E'en to the noblest by the soul conceiv'd, Some feelings cling of baser quality;
And when the goods of this world are achiev'd, Each nobler aim is termed a
cheat, a lie. Our aspirations, our soul's genuine life, Grow torpid in the din of
earthly strife. Though youthful phantasy, while hope inspires, Stretch o'er the
infinite her wing sublime, A narrow compass limits her desires, When wreck'd
our fortunes in the gulf of time. In the deep heart of man care builds her nest,
O'er secret woes she broodeth there, Sleepless she rocks herself and scareth
joy and rest; Still is she wont some new disguise to wear, She may as house
and court, as wife and child appear, As dagger, poison, fire and flood;
Imagined evils chill thy blood,
And what thou ne'er shall lose, o'er that dost shed the tear. I am not like the
gods! Feel it I must; I'm like the earth - worm, writhing in the dust, Which, as
on dust it feeds, its native fare, Crushed 'neath the passer's tread, lies buried
there.
Is it not dust, wherewith this lofty wall, With hundred shelves, confines me
round; Rubbish, in thousand shapes, may I not call What in this moth - world
doth my being bound? Here, what doth fail me, shall I find? Read in a
thousand tomes that, everywhere, Self - torture is the lot of human - kind,
With but one mortal happy, here and there? Thou hollow skull, that grin, what
should it say, But that thy brain, like mine, of old perplexed, Still yearning for
the truth, hath sought the light of day. And in the twilight wandered, sorely
vexed? Ye instruments, forsooth, ye mock at me, With wheel, and cog, and
ring, and cylinder; To nature's portals ye should be the key; Cunning your
wards, and yet the bolts ye fail to stir. Inscrutable in broadest light, To be
unveil'd by force she doth refuse, What she reveals not to thy mental sight,
Thou wilt not wrest me from her with levers and with screws. Old useless
furnitures, yet stand ye here, Because my sire ye served, now dead and gone.
Old scroll, the smoke of years dost wear, So long as o'er this desk the sorry
lamp hath shone. Better my little means hath squandered quite away, Than
