burden'd by that little here to sweat and groan! Wouldst thou possess thy
heritage, essay, By use to render it thine own! What we employ not, but
impedes our way, That which the hour creates, that can it use alone! But
wherefore to yon spot is riveted my gaze? Is yonder flasket there a magnet to
my sight? Whence this mild radiance that around me plays, As when, 'mid
forest gloom, reigneth the moon's soft light?
Hail precious phial! Thee, with reverent awe, Down from thine old receptacle
I draw! Science in thee I hail and human art. Essence of deadliest powers,
refin'd and sure, Of soothing anodynes abstraction pure, Now in thy master's
need thy grace impart! I gaze on thee, my pain is lull'd to rest; I grasp thee,
calm'd the tumult in my breast; The flood - tide of my spirit ebbs away;
Onward I'm summon'd o'er a boundless main, Calm at my feet expands the
glassy plain, To shores unknown allures a brighter day.
Lo, where a car of fire, on airy pinion, Comes floating towards me! I'm
prepar'd to fly By a new track through ether's wide dominion, To distant
spheres of pure activity. This life intense, this godlike ecstasy Worm that thou
art such rapture canst thou earn? Only resolve with courage stern and high,
Thy visage from the radiant sun to turn! Dare with determin'd will to burst the
portals Past which in terror others fain would steal! Now is the time, through
deeds, to show that mortals The calm sublimity of gods can feel; To shudder
not at yonder dark abyss, Where phantasy creates her own self - torturing
brood, Right onward to the yawning gulf to press, Around whose narrow
jaws rolleth hell's fiery flood; With glad resolve to take the fatal leap, Though
danger threaten thee, to sink in endless sleep! Pure crystal goblet! forth I
draw thee now, From out thine antiquated case, where thou Forgotten hast
reposed for many a year! Oft at my father's revels thou didst shine, To glad
the earnest guests was thine, As each to other passed the generous cheer. The
gorgeous brede of figures, quaintly wrought, Which he who quaff'd must first
in rhyme expound, Then drain the goblet at one draught profound, Hath nights
of boyhood to fond memory brought. I to my neighbour shall not reach thee
now, Nor on thy rich device shall I my cunning show. Here is a juice, makes
drunk without delay; Its dark brown flood thy crystal round doth fill; Let this
last draught, the product of my skill, My own free choice, be quaff'd with
resolute will, A solemn festive greeting, to the coming day!
(He places the goblet to his mouth.)
(The ringing of bells, and choral voices.)
Chorus of Angels
Christ is arisen! Mortal, all hail to thee, Thou whom mortality, Earth's sad
reality, Held as in prison.
Faust
What hum melodious, what clear silvery chime Thus draws the goblet from
my lips away? Ye deep - ton'd bells, do ye with voice sublime, Announce the
solemn dawn of Easter - day? Sweet choir! are ye the hymn of comfort
singing, Which one around the darkness of the grave, From seraph - voices,
in glad triumph ringing, Of a new covenant assurance gave?
Chorus of Women
We, his true - hearted, With spices and myrrh, Embalmed the departed, And
swathed him with care; Here we conveyed Him, Our Master, so dear; Alas!
Where we laid Him, The Christ is not here,
Chorus of Angels
Christ is arisen! Blessed the loving one, Who from earth's trial throes, Healing
and strengthening woes, Soars as from prison.
Faust
Wherefore, ye tones celestial, sweet and strong, Come ye a dweller in the
dust to seek? Ring out your chimes believing crowds among, The message
well I hear, my faith alone is weak; From faith her darling, miracle, hath
sprung. Aloft to yonder spheres I dare not soar, Whence sound the tidings of
great joy; And yet, with this sweet strain familiar when a boy, Back it recalleth
me to life once more. Then would celestial love, with holy kiss, Come o'er me
in the Sabbath's stilly hour, While, fraught with solemn meaning and
mysterious power, Chim'd the deep - sounding bell, and prayer was bliss; A
yearning impulse, undefin'd yet dear, Drove me to wander on through wood
and field; With heaving breast and many a burning tear, I felt with holy joy a
world reveal'd. Gay sports and festive hours proclaim'd with joyous pealing,
This Easter hymn in days of old; And fond remembrance now doth me, with
childlike feeling, Back from the last, the solemn step, withhold. O still sound
on, thou sweet celestial strain! The tear - drop flows, - Earth, I am thine
again!
Chorus of Disciples
He whom we mourned as dead, Living and glorious, From the dark grave
hath fled, O'er death victorious; Almost creative bliss Waits on his growing
powers; Ah! Him on earth we miss; Sorrow and grief are ours. Yearning he
left his own, Mid sore annoy; Ah! we must needs bemoan. Master, thy joy!
Chorus of Angels
Christ is arisen, Redeem'd from decay. The bonds which imprison Your souls,
rend away! Praising the Lord with zeal, By deeds that love reveal, Like
brethren true and leal Sharing the daily meal, To all that sorrow feel
Whisp'ring of heaven's weal, Still is the master near, Still is he here!
Before The Gate
Promenaders of all sorts pass out.
Artisans
Why choose ye that direction, pray?
Others
To the hunting - lodge we're on our way.
The First
We towards the mill are strolling on.
A Mechanic
A walk to Wasserhof were best.
A Second
The road is not a pleasant one.
The Others
What will you do?
A Third
I'll join the rest.
A Fourth
Let's up to Burghof, there you'll find good cheer, The prettiest maidens and
the best of beer, And brawls of a prime sort.
A Fifth
You scapegrace! How; Your skin still itching for a row? Thither I will not go,
I loathe the place.
Servant Girl
No, no! I to the town my steps retrace.
Another
Near yonder poplars he is sure to be.
The First
And if he is, what matters it to me! With you he'll walk, he'll dance with none
but you, And with your pleasures what have I to do?
The Second
To - day he will not be alone, he said His friend would be with him, the curly -
head.
Student
Why how those buxom girls step on! Come, brother, we will follow them
anon. Strong beer, a damsel smartly dress'd, Stinging tobacco, - these I love
the best.
Burgher's Daughter
Look at those handsome fellows there! 'Tis really shameful, I declare, The
very best society they shun, After those servant girls forsooth, to run.
Second Student (to the first)
Not quite so fast! for in our rear, Two girls, well - dress'd, are drawing near;
Not far from us the one doth dwell, And sooth to say, I like her well. They
walk demurely, yet you'll see, That they will let us join them presently.
The First
Not I! restraints of all kinds I detest. Quick! let us catch the wild - game ere it
flies, The hand on Saturday the mop that plies, Will on the Sunday fondle you
the best.
Burgher
No, this new Burgomaster, I like him not, God knows, Now, he's in office,
daily more arrogant he grows; And for the town, what doth he do for it? Are
not things worse from day to day? To more restraints we must submit; And
taxes more than ever pay.
Beggar (sings)
Kind gentleman and ladies fair, So rosy - cheek'd and trimly dress'd, Be
pleas'd to listen to my prayer, Relieve and pity the distress'd. Let me not
vainly sing my lay! His heart's most glad whose hand is free. Now when all
men keep holiday, Should be a harvest - day to me.
Another Burgher
On holidays and Sundays naught know I more inviting Than chatting about
war and war's alarms, When folk in Turkey, up in arms, Far off, are 'gainst
each other fighting. We at the window stand, our glasses drain, And watch
adown the stream the painted vessels gliding Then joyful we at eve come
home again, And peaceful times we bless, peace long - abiding.
Third Burgher
Ay, neighbour! So let matters stand for me! There they may scatter one
another's brains, And wild confusion round them see So here at home in quiet
all remains! Old Woman (to the Burghers' Daughters) Heyday! How smart!
The fresh young blood! Who would not fall in love with you? Not quite so
proud! 'Tis well and good! And what you wish, that I could help you to.
Burgher's Daughter
Come, Agatha! I care not to be seen Walking in public with these witches.
True, My future lover, last St. Andrew's E'en, In flesh and blood she brought
before my view.
Another
And mine she show'd me also in the glass, A soldier's figure, with companions
bold; I look around, I seek him as I pass, In vain, his form I nowhere can
behold.
Soldiers
Fortress with turrets And walls high in air, Damsel disdainful, Haughty and
fair, There be my prey! Bold is the venture, Costly the pay!
Hark how the trumpet Thither doth call us, Where either pleasure Or death
may befall us. Hail to the tumult! Life's in the field! Damsel and fortress To us
must yield.
Bold is the venture, Costly the pay! Gaily the soldier Marches away.
Faust and Wagner - Peasant Dances
Faust
Loosed from their fetters are streams and rills Through the gracious spring -
tide's all - quickening glow; Hope's budding joy in the vale doth blow; Old
Winter back to the savage hills Withdraweth his force, decrepid now. Thence
only impotent icy grains Scatters he as he wings his flight, Striping with sleet
the verdant plains; But the sun endureth no trace of white; Everywhere growth
and movement are rife, All things investing with hues of life: Though flowers
are lacking, varied of dye, Their colours the motley throng supply. Turn thee
around, and from this height, Back to the town direct thy sight. Forth from the
hollow, gloomy gate, Stream forth the masses, in bright array. Gladly seek
they the sun to - day; The Lord's Resurrection they celebrate: For they
themselves have risen, with joy, From tenement sordid, from cheerless room,
From bonds of toil, from care and annoy, From gable and roof's o'er -
hanging gloom, From crowded alley and narrow street, And from the
churches' awe - breathing night, All now have come forth into the light. Look,
only look, on nimble feet, Through garden and field how spread the throng,
How o'er the river's ample sheet,
Many a gay wherry glides along; And see, deep sinking in the tide, Pushes the
last boat now away. E'en from yon far hill's path - worn side, Flash the bright
hues of garments gay. Hark! Sounds of village mirth arise; This is the people's
paradise. Both great and small send up a cheer; Here am I man, I feel it here.
Wagner
Sir Doctor, in a walk with you There's honour and instruction too; Yet here
alone I care not to resort, Because I coarseness hate of every sort. This
fiddling, shouting, skittling, I detest; I hate the tumult of the vulgar throng; They
roar as by the evil one possess'd, And call it pleasure, call it song.
Peasants (under the linden - tree)
Dance and song
The shepherd for the dance was dress'd, With ribbon, wreath, and coloured
vest, A gallant show displaying. And round about the linden - tree, They
footed it right merrily. Juchhe! Juchhe! Juchheisa! Heisa! He! So fiddle - bow
was braying
Our swain amidst the circle press'd, He push'd a maiden trimly dress'd, And
jogg'd her with his elbow; The buxom damsel turn'd her head, "Now that's a
stupid trick!" she said Juchhe! Juchhe! Juchheisa! Heisa! He! Don't be so
rude, good fellow!
Swift in the circle they advanced, They danced to right, to left they danced,
And all the skirts were swinging. And they grew red, and they grew warm,
Panting, they rested arm in arm, Juchhe! Juchhe! Juchheisa! Heisa! He! To
hip their elbow bringing.
Don't make so free! How many a maid Has been betroth'd and then betray'd;
And has repented after! Yet still he flatter'd her aside, And from the linden, far
and wide, Juchhe! Juchhe! Juchheisa! Heisa! He! Rang fiddle - bow and
laughter.
Old Peasant
Doctor, 'tis really kind of you, To condescend to come this way, A highly
learned man like you, To join our mirthful throng to - day. Our fairest cup I
offer you, which we with sparkling drink have crown'd, And pledging you, I
pray aloud, That every drop within its round, While it your present thirst
allays, May swell the number of your days.
Faust
I take the cup you kindly reach, Thanks and prosperity to each! (The crowd
gather round in a circle.)
Old Peasant
Ay, truly! 'tis well done, that you Our festive meeting thus attend; You, who in
evil days of yore, So often show'd yourself our friend! Full many a one stands
living here, Who from the fever's deadly blast, Your father rescu'd, when his
skill The fatal sickness stay'd at last. A young man then, each house you
sought, Where reign'd the mortal pestilence. Corpse after corpse was carried
forth, But still unscath'd you issued thence. Sore then your trials and severe;
The Helper yonder aids the helper here.
All
Heaven bless the trusty friend, and long To help the poor his life prolong!
Faust
To Him above in homage bend, Who prompts the helper and Who help doth
