193 SCENES FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE. PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. The Lord and the Host of Heaven. Enter three Archangels. HE sun makes music as of old Raphael. Amid the rival spheres of Heaven With thunder speed: the Angels even Is bright as at creation's day. Gab. And swift and swift, with rapid lightness, Alternating Elysian brightness With deep and dreadful night; the sea Foams in broad billows from the deep Up to the rocks, and rocks and ocean, Mic. And tempests in contention roar Flames before the thunder's way; But thy servants, Lord, revere The gentle changes of thy day. Chorus of the Three. The Angels draw strength from thy glance, Though no one comprehend thee may ; Thy world's unwither'd countenance Is bright as on creation's day.* Enter MEPHISTOPHELES. Meph. As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enough To interest thyself in our affairs— And ask, "How goes it with you there below?" * Rap. The sun sounds, according to ancient custom, Fulfils with a step of thunder. Its countenance gives the Angels strength The incredible high works Are excellent as at the first day. Gab. And swift, and inconceivably swift The adornment of earth winds itself round, With deep dreadful night. The sea foams in broad waves From its deep bottom, up to the rocks, And rocks and sea are torn on together Of deepest operation round about. The gentle alternations of thy day. Cho. Thy countenance gives the Angels strength, And all thy lofty works Are excellent as at the first day. Such is a literal translation of this astonishing chorus; it is impossible to represent in another language the melody of the versification; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised to find a caput mortuum.-Translator's Note. And as indulgently at other times Thou tookedst not my visits in ill part, Thou seest me here once more among thy household. You will excuse me if I do not talk In the high style which they think fashionable; A little better would he live, hadst thou The Lord. Have you no more to say. Do you come here Always to scold, and cavil, and complain? Seems nothing ever right to you on earth? Meph. No, Lord! I find all there, as ever, bad at best. Even I am sorry for man's days of sorrow; I could myself almost give up the pleasure Of plaguing the poor things. The Lord. Meph. The Doctor? Knowest thou Faust? The Lord. Ay; my servant Faust. In truth He serves you in a fashion quite his own; And the fool's meat and drink are not of earth. His aspirations bear him on so far That he is half aware of his own folly, For he demands from Heaven its fairest star, The Lord. Though he now serves me in a cloud of error, I will soon lead him forth to the clear day. When trees look green full well the gardener knows. Meph. What will you bet?-now I am sure of winningOnly, observe you give me full permission To lead him softly on my path. The Lord. And that is all I ask; for willingly Thanks. I never make acquaintance with the dead. The full fresh cheeks of youth are food for me, For I am like a cat-I like to play A little with the mouse before I eat it. The Lord. Well, well! it is permitted thee. Draw thou His spirit from its springs; as thou find'st power, Seize him and lead him on thy downward path ; And stand ashamed when failure teaches thee That a good man, even in his darkest longings, Is well aware of the right way. Meph. Well and good. I am not in much doubt about my bet, And if I lose, then 'tis your turn to crow; Enjoy your triumph then with a full breast. Ay; dust shall he devour, and that with pleasure, Like my old paramour, the famous Snake. The Lord. Pray come here when it suits you; for I never Had much dislike for people of your sort. And, among all the Spirits who rebell'd, Have given him the Devil for a companion, [Heaven closes; the Archangels exeunt. Meph. From time to time I visit the old fellow, And I take care to keep on good terms with him. Civil enough is this same God Almighty, To talk so freely with the Devil himself. MAY-DAY NIGHT. SCENE.-The Hartz Mountain, a desolate Country. Meph. Would you not like a broomstick? As for me I wish I had a good stout ram to ride ; For we are still far from th' appointed place. Faust. This knotted staff is help enough for me, Whilst I feel fresh upon my legs. What good Is there in making short a pleasant way? To creep along the labyrinths of the vales, Is the true sport that seasons such a path, |