With one you
secretly
begin,
Presently more of them come in,
And when a dozen share in thee,
Thou art the whole town's property.
Presently more of them come in,
And when a dozen share in thee,
Thou art the whole town's property.
Faust, a Tragedy by Goethe
I find my pleasure in it, too!
AT THE WELL.
MARGERY _and_ LIZZY _with Pitchers. _
_Lizzy_. Hast heard no news of Barbara to-day?
_Margery_. No, not a word. I've not been out much lately.
_Lizzy_. It came to me through Sybill very straightly.
She's made a fool of herself at last, they say.
That comes of taking airs!
_Margery_. What meanst thou?
_Lizzy_. Pah!
She daily eats and drinks for two now.
_Margery_. Ah!
_Lizzy_. It serves the jade right for being so callow.
How long she's been hanging upon the fellow!
Such a promenading!
To fair and dance parading!
Everywhere as first she must shine,
He was treating her always with tarts and wine;
She began to think herself something fine,
And let her vanity so degrade her
That she even accepted the presents he made her.
There was hugging and smacking, and so it went on--
And lo! and behold! the flower is gone!
_Margery_. Poor thing!
_Lizzy_. Canst any pity for her feel!
When such as we spun at the wheel,
Our mothers kept us in-doors after dark;
While she stood cozy with her spark,
Or sate on the door-bench, or sauntered round,
And never an hour too long they found.
But now her pride may let itself down,
To do penance at church in the sinner's gown!
_Margery_. He'll certainly take her for his wife.
_Lizzy_. He'd be a fool! A spruce young blade
Has room enough to ply his trade.
Besides, he's gone.
_Margery_. Now, that's not fair!
_Lizzy_. If she gets him, her lot'll be hard to bear.
The boys will tear up her wreath, and what's more,
We'll strew chopped straw before her door.
[_Exit. _]
_Margery [going home]_. Time was when I, too, instead of bewailing,
Could boldly jeer at a poor girl's failing!
When my scorn could scarcely find expression
At hearing of another's transgression!
How black it seemed! though black as could be,
It never was black enough for me.
I blessed my soul, and felt so high,
And now, myself, in sin I lie!
Yet--all that led me to it, sure,
O God! it was so dear, so pure!
DONJON. [27]
[_In a niche a devotional image of the Mater Dolorosa,
before it pots of flowers. _]
MARGERY [_puts fresh flowers into the pots_].
Ah, hear me,
Draw kindly near me,
Mother of sorrows, heal my woe!
Sword-pierced, and stricken
With pangs that sicken,
Thou seest thy son's last life-blood flow!
Thy look--thy sighing---
To God are crying,
Charged with a son's and mother's woe!
Sad mother!
What other
Knows the pangs that eat me to the bone?
What within my poor heart burneth,
How it trembleth, how it yearneth,
Thou canst feel and thou alone!
Go where I will, I never
Find peace or hope--forever
Woe, woe and misery!
Alone, when all are sleeping,
I'm weeping, weeping, weeping,
My heart is crushed in me.
The pots before my window,
In the early morning-hours,
Alas, my tears bedewed them,
As I plucked for thee these flowers,
When the bright sun good morrow
In at my window said,
Already, in my anguish,
I sate there in my bed.
From shame and death redeem me, oh!
Draw near me,
And, pitying, hear me,
Mother of sorrows, heal my woe!
NIGHT.
_Street before_ MARGERY'S _Door. _
VALENTINE [_soldier,_ MARGERY'S _brother_].
When at the mess I used to sit,
Where many a one will show his wit,
And heard my comrades one and all
The flower of the sex extol,
Drowning their praise with bumpers high,
Leaning upon my elbows, I
Would hear the braggadocios through,
And then, when it came my turn, too,
Would stroke my beard and, smiling, say,
A brimming bumper in my hand:
All very decent in their way!
But is there one, in all the land,
With my sweet Margy to compare,
A candle to hold to my sister fair?
Bravo! Kling! Klang! it echoed round!
One party cried: 'tis truth he speaks,
She is the jewel of the sex!
And the braggarts all in silence were bound.
And now! --one could pull out his hair with vexation,
And run up the walls for mortification! --
Every two-legged creature that goes in breeches
Can mock me with sneers and stinging speeches!
And I like a guilty debtor sitting,
For fear of each casual word am sweating!
And though I could smash them in my ire,
I dare not call a soul of them liar.
What's that comes yonder, sneaking along?
There are two of them there, if I see not wrong.
Is't he, I'll give him a dose that'll cure him,
He'll not leave the spot alive, I assure him!
FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.
_Faust_. How from yon window of the sacristy
The ever-burning lamp sends up its glimmer,
And round the edge grows ever dimmer,
Till in the gloom its flickerings die!
So in my bosom all is nightlike.
_Mephistopheles_. A starving tom-cat I feel quite like,
That o'er the fire ladders crawls
Then softly creeps, ground the walls.
My aim's quite virtuous ne'ertheless,
A bit of thievish lust, a bit of wantonness.
I feel it all my members haunting--
The glorious Walpurgis night.
One day--then comes the feast enchanting
That shall all pinings well requite.
_Faust_. Meanwhile can that the casket be, I wonder,
I see behind rise glittering yonder. [28]
_Mephistopheles_. Yes, and thou soon shalt have the pleasure
Of lifting out the precious treasure.
I lately 'neath the lid did squint,
Has piles of lion-dollars[29] in't.
_Faust_. But not a jewel? Not a ring?
To deck my mistress not a trinket?
_Mephistopheles_. I caught a glimpse of some such thing,
Sort of pearl bracelet I should think it.
_Faust_. That's well! I always like to bear
Some present when I visit my fair.
_Mephistopheles_. You should not murmur if your fate is,
To have a bit of pleasure gratis.
Now, as the stars fill heaven with their bright throng,
List a fine piece, artistic purely:
I sing her here a moral song,
To make a fool of her more surely.
[_Sings to the guitar_. ][30]
What dost thou here,
Katrina dear,
At daybreak drear,
Before thy lover's chamber?
Give o'er, give o'er!
The maid his door
Lets in, no more
Goes out a maid--remember!
Take heed! take heed!
Once done, the deed
Ye'll rue with speed--
And then--good night--poor thing--a!
Though ne'er so fair
His speech, beware,
Until you bear
His ring upon your finger.
_Valentine_ [_comes forward_].
Whom lur'ft thou here? what prey dost scent?
Rat-catching[81] offspring of perdition!
To hell goes first the instrument!
To hell then follows the musician!
_Mephistopheles_. He 's broken the guitar! to music, then, good-bye, now.
_Valentine_. A game of cracking skulls we'll try now!
_Mephistopbeles_ [_to Faust_]. Never you flinch, Sir Doctor! Brisk!
Mind every word I say---be wary!
Stand close by me, out with your whisk!
Thrust home upon the churl! I'll parry.
_Valentine_. Then parry that!
_Mephistopheles_. Be sure. Why not?
_Valentine_. And that!
_Mephistopheles_. With ease!
_Valentine_. The devil's aid he's got!
But what is this? My hand's already lame.
_Mephistopheles_ [_to Faust_]. Thrust home!
_Valentine_ [_falls_]. O woe!
_Mephistopheles_. Now is the lubber tame!
But come! We must be off. I hear a clatter;
And cries of murder, too, that fast increase.
I'm an old hand to manage the police,
But then the penal court's another matter.
_Martha_. Come out! Come out!
_Margery_ [_at the window_]. Bring on a light!
_Martha_ [_as above_]. They swear and scuffle, scream and fight.
_People_. There's one, has got's death-blow!
_Martha_ [_coming out_]. Where are the murderers, have they flown?
_Margery_ [_coming out_]. Who's lying here?
_People_. Thy mother's son.
_Margery_. Almighty God! What woe!
_Valentine_. I'm dying! that is quickly said,
And even quicklier done.
Women! Why howl, as if half-dead?
Come, hear me, every one!
[_All gather round him_. ]
My Margery, look! Young art thou still,
But managest thy matters ill,
Hast not learned out yet quite.
I say in confidence--think it o'er:
Thou art just once for all a whore;
Why, be one, then, outright.
_Margery_. My brother! God! What words to me!
_Valentine_. In this game let our Lord God be!
That which is done, alas! is done.
And every thing its course will run.
With one you secretly begin,
Presently more of them come in,
And when a dozen share in thee,
Thou art the whole town's property.
When shame is born to this world of sorrow,
The birth is carefully hid from sight,
And the mysterious veil of night
To cover her head they borrow;
Yes, they would gladly stifle the wearer;
But as she grows and holds herself high,
She walks uncovered in day's broad eye,
Though she has not become a whit fairer.
The uglier her face to sight,
The more she courts the noonday light.
Already I the time can see
When all good souls shall shrink from thee,
Thou prostitute, when thou go'st by them,
As if a tainted corpse were nigh them.
Thy heart within thy breast shall quake then,
When they look thee in the face.
Shalt wear no gold chain more on thy neck then!
Shalt stand no more in the holy place!
No pleasure in point-lace collars take then,
Nor for the dance thy person deck then!
But into some dark corner gliding,
'Mong beggars and cripples wilt be hiding;
And even should God thy sin forgive,
Wilt be curs'd on earth while thou shalt live!
_Martha_. Your soul to the mercy of God surrender!
Will you add to your load the sin of slander?
_Valentine_. Could I get at thy dried-up frame,
Vile bawd, so lost to all sense of shame!
Then might I hope, e'en this side Heaven,
Richly to find my sins forgiven.
_Margery_. My brother! This is hell to me!
_Valentine_. I tell thee, let these weak tears be!
When thy last hold of honor broke,
Thou gav'st my heart the heaviest stroke.
I'm going home now through the grave
To God, a soldier and a brave.
[_Dies_. ]
CATHEDRAL.
_Service, Organ, and Singing. _
[MARGERY _amidst a crowd of people. _ EVIL SPIRIT _behind_ MARGERY. ]
_Evil Spirit_. How different was it with thee, Margy,
When, innocent and artless,
Thou cam'st here to the altar,
From the well-thumbed little prayer-book,
Petitions lisping,
Half full of child's play,
Half full of Heaven!
Margy!
Where are thy thoughts?
What crime is buried
Deep within thy heart?
Prayest thou haply for thy mother, who
Slept over into long, long pain, on thy account?
Whose blood upon thy threshold lies?
--And stirs there not, already
Beneath thy heart a life
Tormenting itself and thee
With bodings of its coming hour?
_Margery_. Woe! Woe!
Could I rid me of the thoughts,
Still through my brain backward and forward flitting,
Against my will!
_Chorus_. Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla.
[_Organ plays_. ]
_Evil Spirit_. Wrath smites thee!
Hark! the trumpet sounds!
The graves are trembling!
And thy heart,
Made o'er again
For fiery torments,
Waking from its ashes
Starts up!
_Margery_. Would I were hence!
I feel as if the organ's peal
My breath were stifling,
The choral chant
My heart were melting.
_Chorus_. Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet apparebit.
Nil inultum remanebit.
_Margery_. How cramped it feels!
The walls and pillars
Imprison me!
And the arches
Crush me! --Air!
_Evil Spirit_. What! hide thee! sin and shame
Will not be hidden!
Air? Light?
Woe's thee!
_Chorus_. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus?
Cum vix justus sit securus.
_Evil Spirit_. They turn their faces,
The glorified, from thee.
To take thy hand, the pure ones
Shudder with horror.
Woe!
_Chorus_. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
_Margery_. Neighbor! your phial! --
[_She swoons. _]
WALPURGIS NIGHT. [32]
_Harz Mountains. _
_District of Schirke and Elend. _
FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.
_Mephistopheles_. Wouldst thou not like a broomstick, now, to ride on?
At this rate we are, still, a long way off;
I'd rather have a good tough goat, by half,
Than the best legs a man e'er set his pride on.
_Faust_. So long as I've a pair of good fresh legs to stride on,
Enough for me this knotty staff.
What use of shortening the way!
Following the valley's labyrinthine winding,
Then up this rock a pathway finding,
From which the spring leaps down in bubbling play,
That is what spices such a walk, I say!
Spring through the birch-tree's veins is flowing,
The very pine is feeling it;
Should not its influence set our limbs a-glowing?
_Mephistopheles_. I do not feel it, not a bit!
My wintry blood runs very slowly;
I wish my path were filled with frost and snow.
The moon's imperfect disk, how melancholy
It rises there with red, belated glow,
And shines so badly, turn where'er one can turn,
At every step he hits a rock or tree!
With leave I'll beg a Jack-o'lantern!
I see one yonder burning merrily.
Heigh, there! my friend! May I thy aid desire?
Why waste at such a rate thy fire?
Come, light us up yon path, good fellow, pray!
_Jack-o'lantern_. Out of respect, I hope I shall be able
To rein a nature quite unstable;
We usually take a zigzag way.
_Mephistopheles_. Heigh! heigh! He thinks man's crooked course to travel.
Go straight ahead, or, by the devil,
I'll blow your flickering life out with a puff.
_Jack-o'lantern_. You're master of the house, that's plain enough,
So I'll comply with your desire.
But see! The mountain's magic-mad to-night,
And if your guide's to be a Jack-o'lantern's light,
Strict rectitude you'll scarce require.
FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, JACK-O'LANTERN, _in alternate song_.
Spheres of magic, dream, and vision,
Now, it seems, are opening o'er us.
For thy credit, use precision!
Let the way be plain before us
Through the lengthening desert regions.
See how trees on trees, in legions,
Hurrying by us, change their places,
And the bowing crags make faces,
And the rocks, long noses showing,
Hear them snoring, hear them blowing! [33]
Down through stones, through mosses flowing,
See the brook and brooklet springing.
Hear I rustling? hear I singing?
Love-plaints, sweet and melancholy,
Voices of those days so holy?
All our loving, longing, yearning?
Echo, like a strain returning
From the olden times, is ringing.
Uhu! Schuhu! Tu-whit! Tu-whit!
Are the jay, and owl, and pewit
All awake and loudly calling?
What goes through the bushes yonder?
Can it be the Salamander--
Belly thick and legs a-sprawling?
Roots and fibres, snake-like, crawling,
Out from rocky, sandy places,
Wheresoe'er we turn our faces,
Stretch enormous fingers round us,
Here to catch us, there confound us;
Thick, black knars to life are starting,
Polypusses'-feelers darting
At the traveller. Field-mice, swarming,
Thousand-colored armies forming,
Scamper on through moss and heather!
And the glow-worms, in the darkling,
With their crowded escort sparkling,
Would confound us altogether.
But to guess I'm vainly trying--
Are we stopping? are we hieing?
Round and round us all seems flying,
Rocks and trees, that make grimaces,
And the mist-lights of the places
Ever swelling, multiplying.
_Mephistopheles_. Here's my coat-tail--tightly thumb it!
We have reached a middle summit,
Whence one stares to see how shines
Mammon in the mountain-mines.
_Faust_. How strangely through the dim recesses
A dreary dawning seems to glow!
And even down the deep abysses
Its melancholy quiverings throw!
Here smoke is boiling, mist exhaling;
Here from a vapory veil it gleams,
Then, a fine thread of light, goes trailing,
Then gushes up in fiery streams.
The valley, here, you see it follow,
One mighty flood, with hundred rills,
And here, pent up in some deep hollow,
It breaks on all sides down the hills.
Here, spark-showers, darting up before us,
Like golden sand-clouds rise and fall.
But yonder see how blazes o'er us,
All up and down, the rocky wall!
_Mephistopheles_. Has not Sir Mammon gloriously lighted
His palace for this festive night?
Count thyself lucky for the sight:
I catch e'en now a glimpse of noisy guests invited.
_Faust_. How the mad tempest[34] sweeps the air!
On cheek and neck the wind-gusts how they flout me.
_Mephistopheles_. Must seize the rock's old ribs and hold on stoutly!
Else will they hurl thee down the dark abysses there.
A mist-rain thickens the gloom.
Hark, how the forests crash and boom!
Out fly the owls in dread and wonder;
Splitting their columns asunder,
Hear it, the evergreen palaces shaking!
Boughs are twisting and breaking!
Of stems what a grinding and moaning!
Of roots what a creaking and groaning!
In frightful confusion, headlong tumbling,
They fall, with a sound of thunder rumbling,
And, through the wreck-piled ravines and abysses,
The tempest howls and hisses.
Hearst thou voices high up o'er us?
Close around us--far before us?
Through the mountain, all along,
Swells a torrent of magic song.
_Witches_ [_in chorus_]. The witches go to the Brocken's top,
The stubble is yellow, and green the crop.
They gather there at the well-known call,
Sir Urian[85] sits at the head of all.
Then on we go o'er stone and stock:
The witch, she--and--the buck.
_Voice_. Old Baubo comes along, I vow!
She rides upon a farrow-sow.
_Chorus_. Then honor to whom honor's due!
Ma'am Baubo ahead! and lead the crew!
A good fat sow, and ma'am on her back,
Then follow the witches all in a pack.
_Voice_. Which way didst thou come?
_Voice_. By the Ilsenstein!
Peeped into an owl's nest, mother of mine!
What a pair of eyes!
_Voice_. To hell with your flurry!
Why ride in such hurry!
_Voice_. The hag be confounded!
My skin flie has wounded!
_Witches_ [_chorus]. _ The way is broad, the way is long,
What means this noisy, crazy throng?
The broom it scratches, the fork it flicks,
The child is stifled, the mother breaks.
_Wizards_ [_semi-chorus_]. Like housed-up snails we're creeping on,
The women all ahead are gone.
When to the Bad One's house we go,
She gains a thousand steps, you know.
_The other half_. We take it not precisely so;
What she in thousand steps can go,
Make all the haste she ever can,
'Tis done in just one leap by man.
_Voice_ [_above_].
AT THE WELL.
MARGERY _and_ LIZZY _with Pitchers. _
_Lizzy_. Hast heard no news of Barbara to-day?
_Margery_. No, not a word. I've not been out much lately.
_Lizzy_. It came to me through Sybill very straightly.
She's made a fool of herself at last, they say.
That comes of taking airs!
_Margery_. What meanst thou?
_Lizzy_. Pah!
She daily eats and drinks for two now.
_Margery_. Ah!
_Lizzy_. It serves the jade right for being so callow.
How long she's been hanging upon the fellow!
Such a promenading!
To fair and dance parading!
Everywhere as first she must shine,
He was treating her always with tarts and wine;
She began to think herself something fine,
And let her vanity so degrade her
That she even accepted the presents he made her.
There was hugging and smacking, and so it went on--
And lo! and behold! the flower is gone!
_Margery_. Poor thing!
_Lizzy_. Canst any pity for her feel!
When such as we spun at the wheel,
Our mothers kept us in-doors after dark;
While she stood cozy with her spark,
Or sate on the door-bench, or sauntered round,
And never an hour too long they found.
But now her pride may let itself down,
To do penance at church in the sinner's gown!
_Margery_. He'll certainly take her for his wife.
_Lizzy_. He'd be a fool! A spruce young blade
Has room enough to ply his trade.
Besides, he's gone.
_Margery_. Now, that's not fair!
_Lizzy_. If she gets him, her lot'll be hard to bear.
The boys will tear up her wreath, and what's more,
We'll strew chopped straw before her door.
[_Exit. _]
_Margery [going home]_. Time was when I, too, instead of bewailing,
Could boldly jeer at a poor girl's failing!
When my scorn could scarcely find expression
At hearing of another's transgression!
How black it seemed! though black as could be,
It never was black enough for me.
I blessed my soul, and felt so high,
And now, myself, in sin I lie!
Yet--all that led me to it, sure,
O God! it was so dear, so pure!
DONJON. [27]
[_In a niche a devotional image of the Mater Dolorosa,
before it pots of flowers. _]
MARGERY [_puts fresh flowers into the pots_].
Ah, hear me,
Draw kindly near me,
Mother of sorrows, heal my woe!
Sword-pierced, and stricken
With pangs that sicken,
Thou seest thy son's last life-blood flow!
Thy look--thy sighing---
To God are crying,
Charged with a son's and mother's woe!
Sad mother!
What other
Knows the pangs that eat me to the bone?
What within my poor heart burneth,
How it trembleth, how it yearneth,
Thou canst feel and thou alone!
Go where I will, I never
Find peace or hope--forever
Woe, woe and misery!
Alone, when all are sleeping,
I'm weeping, weeping, weeping,
My heart is crushed in me.
The pots before my window,
In the early morning-hours,
Alas, my tears bedewed them,
As I plucked for thee these flowers,
When the bright sun good morrow
In at my window said,
Already, in my anguish,
I sate there in my bed.
From shame and death redeem me, oh!
Draw near me,
And, pitying, hear me,
Mother of sorrows, heal my woe!
NIGHT.
_Street before_ MARGERY'S _Door. _
VALENTINE [_soldier,_ MARGERY'S _brother_].
When at the mess I used to sit,
Where many a one will show his wit,
And heard my comrades one and all
The flower of the sex extol,
Drowning their praise with bumpers high,
Leaning upon my elbows, I
Would hear the braggadocios through,
And then, when it came my turn, too,
Would stroke my beard and, smiling, say,
A brimming bumper in my hand:
All very decent in their way!
But is there one, in all the land,
With my sweet Margy to compare,
A candle to hold to my sister fair?
Bravo! Kling! Klang! it echoed round!
One party cried: 'tis truth he speaks,
She is the jewel of the sex!
And the braggarts all in silence were bound.
And now! --one could pull out his hair with vexation,
And run up the walls for mortification! --
Every two-legged creature that goes in breeches
Can mock me with sneers and stinging speeches!
And I like a guilty debtor sitting,
For fear of each casual word am sweating!
And though I could smash them in my ire,
I dare not call a soul of them liar.
What's that comes yonder, sneaking along?
There are two of them there, if I see not wrong.
Is't he, I'll give him a dose that'll cure him,
He'll not leave the spot alive, I assure him!
FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.
_Faust_. How from yon window of the sacristy
The ever-burning lamp sends up its glimmer,
And round the edge grows ever dimmer,
Till in the gloom its flickerings die!
So in my bosom all is nightlike.
_Mephistopheles_. A starving tom-cat I feel quite like,
That o'er the fire ladders crawls
Then softly creeps, ground the walls.
My aim's quite virtuous ne'ertheless,
A bit of thievish lust, a bit of wantonness.
I feel it all my members haunting--
The glorious Walpurgis night.
One day--then comes the feast enchanting
That shall all pinings well requite.
_Faust_. Meanwhile can that the casket be, I wonder,
I see behind rise glittering yonder. [28]
_Mephistopheles_. Yes, and thou soon shalt have the pleasure
Of lifting out the precious treasure.
I lately 'neath the lid did squint,
Has piles of lion-dollars[29] in't.
_Faust_. But not a jewel? Not a ring?
To deck my mistress not a trinket?
_Mephistopheles_. I caught a glimpse of some such thing,
Sort of pearl bracelet I should think it.
_Faust_. That's well! I always like to bear
Some present when I visit my fair.
_Mephistopheles_. You should not murmur if your fate is,
To have a bit of pleasure gratis.
Now, as the stars fill heaven with their bright throng,
List a fine piece, artistic purely:
I sing her here a moral song,
To make a fool of her more surely.
[_Sings to the guitar_. ][30]
What dost thou here,
Katrina dear,
At daybreak drear,
Before thy lover's chamber?
Give o'er, give o'er!
The maid his door
Lets in, no more
Goes out a maid--remember!
Take heed! take heed!
Once done, the deed
Ye'll rue with speed--
And then--good night--poor thing--a!
Though ne'er so fair
His speech, beware,
Until you bear
His ring upon your finger.
_Valentine_ [_comes forward_].
Whom lur'ft thou here? what prey dost scent?
Rat-catching[81] offspring of perdition!
To hell goes first the instrument!
To hell then follows the musician!
_Mephistopheles_. He 's broken the guitar! to music, then, good-bye, now.
_Valentine_. A game of cracking skulls we'll try now!
_Mephistopbeles_ [_to Faust_]. Never you flinch, Sir Doctor! Brisk!
Mind every word I say---be wary!
Stand close by me, out with your whisk!
Thrust home upon the churl! I'll parry.
_Valentine_. Then parry that!
_Mephistopheles_. Be sure. Why not?
_Valentine_. And that!
_Mephistopheles_. With ease!
_Valentine_. The devil's aid he's got!
But what is this? My hand's already lame.
_Mephistopheles_ [_to Faust_]. Thrust home!
_Valentine_ [_falls_]. O woe!
_Mephistopheles_. Now is the lubber tame!
But come! We must be off. I hear a clatter;
And cries of murder, too, that fast increase.
I'm an old hand to manage the police,
But then the penal court's another matter.
_Martha_. Come out! Come out!
_Margery_ [_at the window_]. Bring on a light!
_Martha_ [_as above_]. They swear and scuffle, scream and fight.
_People_. There's one, has got's death-blow!
_Martha_ [_coming out_]. Where are the murderers, have they flown?
_Margery_ [_coming out_]. Who's lying here?
_People_. Thy mother's son.
_Margery_. Almighty God! What woe!
_Valentine_. I'm dying! that is quickly said,
And even quicklier done.
Women! Why howl, as if half-dead?
Come, hear me, every one!
[_All gather round him_. ]
My Margery, look! Young art thou still,
But managest thy matters ill,
Hast not learned out yet quite.
I say in confidence--think it o'er:
Thou art just once for all a whore;
Why, be one, then, outright.
_Margery_. My brother! God! What words to me!
_Valentine_. In this game let our Lord God be!
That which is done, alas! is done.
And every thing its course will run.
With one you secretly begin,
Presently more of them come in,
And when a dozen share in thee,
Thou art the whole town's property.
When shame is born to this world of sorrow,
The birth is carefully hid from sight,
And the mysterious veil of night
To cover her head they borrow;
Yes, they would gladly stifle the wearer;
But as she grows and holds herself high,
She walks uncovered in day's broad eye,
Though she has not become a whit fairer.
The uglier her face to sight,
The more she courts the noonday light.
Already I the time can see
When all good souls shall shrink from thee,
Thou prostitute, when thou go'st by them,
As if a tainted corpse were nigh them.
Thy heart within thy breast shall quake then,
When they look thee in the face.
Shalt wear no gold chain more on thy neck then!
Shalt stand no more in the holy place!
No pleasure in point-lace collars take then,
Nor for the dance thy person deck then!
But into some dark corner gliding,
'Mong beggars and cripples wilt be hiding;
And even should God thy sin forgive,
Wilt be curs'd on earth while thou shalt live!
_Martha_. Your soul to the mercy of God surrender!
Will you add to your load the sin of slander?
_Valentine_. Could I get at thy dried-up frame,
Vile bawd, so lost to all sense of shame!
Then might I hope, e'en this side Heaven,
Richly to find my sins forgiven.
_Margery_. My brother! This is hell to me!
_Valentine_. I tell thee, let these weak tears be!
When thy last hold of honor broke,
Thou gav'st my heart the heaviest stroke.
I'm going home now through the grave
To God, a soldier and a brave.
[_Dies_. ]
CATHEDRAL.
_Service, Organ, and Singing. _
[MARGERY _amidst a crowd of people. _ EVIL SPIRIT _behind_ MARGERY. ]
_Evil Spirit_. How different was it with thee, Margy,
When, innocent and artless,
Thou cam'st here to the altar,
From the well-thumbed little prayer-book,
Petitions lisping,
Half full of child's play,
Half full of Heaven!
Margy!
Where are thy thoughts?
What crime is buried
Deep within thy heart?
Prayest thou haply for thy mother, who
Slept over into long, long pain, on thy account?
Whose blood upon thy threshold lies?
--And stirs there not, already
Beneath thy heart a life
Tormenting itself and thee
With bodings of its coming hour?
_Margery_. Woe! Woe!
Could I rid me of the thoughts,
Still through my brain backward and forward flitting,
Against my will!
_Chorus_. Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla.
[_Organ plays_. ]
_Evil Spirit_. Wrath smites thee!
Hark! the trumpet sounds!
The graves are trembling!
And thy heart,
Made o'er again
For fiery torments,
Waking from its ashes
Starts up!
_Margery_. Would I were hence!
I feel as if the organ's peal
My breath were stifling,
The choral chant
My heart were melting.
_Chorus_. Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet apparebit.
Nil inultum remanebit.
_Margery_. How cramped it feels!
The walls and pillars
Imprison me!
And the arches
Crush me! --Air!
_Evil Spirit_. What! hide thee! sin and shame
Will not be hidden!
Air? Light?
Woe's thee!
_Chorus_. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus?
Cum vix justus sit securus.
_Evil Spirit_. They turn their faces,
The glorified, from thee.
To take thy hand, the pure ones
Shudder with horror.
Woe!
_Chorus_. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
_Margery_. Neighbor! your phial! --
[_She swoons. _]
WALPURGIS NIGHT. [32]
_Harz Mountains. _
_District of Schirke and Elend. _
FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.
_Mephistopheles_. Wouldst thou not like a broomstick, now, to ride on?
At this rate we are, still, a long way off;
I'd rather have a good tough goat, by half,
Than the best legs a man e'er set his pride on.
_Faust_. So long as I've a pair of good fresh legs to stride on,
Enough for me this knotty staff.
What use of shortening the way!
Following the valley's labyrinthine winding,
Then up this rock a pathway finding,
From which the spring leaps down in bubbling play,
That is what spices such a walk, I say!
Spring through the birch-tree's veins is flowing,
The very pine is feeling it;
Should not its influence set our limbs a-glowing?
_Mephistopheles_. I do not feel it, not a bit!
My wintry blood runs very slowly;
I wish my path were filled with frost and snow.
The moon's imperfect disk, how melancholy
It rises there with red, belated glow,
And shines so badly, turn where'er one can turn,
At every step he hits a rock or tree!
With leave I'll beg a Jack-o'lantern!
I see one yonder burning merrily.
Heigh, there! my friend! May I thy aid desire?
Why waste at such a rate thy fire?
Come, light us up yon path, good fellow, pray!
_Jack-o'lantern_. Out of respect, I hope I shall be able
To rein a nature quite unstable;
We usually take a zigzag way.
_Mephistopheles_. Heigh! heigh! He thinks man's crooked course to travel.
Go straight ahead, or, by the devil,
I'll blow your flickering life out with a puff.
_Jack-o'lantern_. You're master of the house, that's plain enough,
So I'll comply with your desire.
But see! The mountain's magic-mad to-night,
And if your guide's to be a Jack-o'lantern's light,
Strict rectitude you'll scarce require.
FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, JACK-O'LANTERN, _in alternate song_.
Spheres of magic, dream, and vision,
Now, it seems, are opening o'er us.
For thy credit, use precision!
Let the way be plain before us
Through the lengthening desert regions.
See how trees on trees, in legions,
Hurrying by us, change their places,
And the bowing crags make faces,
And the rocks, long noses showing,
Hear them snoring, hear them blowing! [33]
Down through stones, through mosses flowing,
See the brook and brooklet springing.
Hear I rustling? hear I singing?
Love-plaints, sweet and melancholy,
Voices of those days so holy?
All our loving, longing, yearning?
Echo, like a strain returning
From the olden times, is ringing.
Uhu! Schuhu! Tu-whit! Tu-whit!
Are the jay, and owl, and pewit
All awake and loudly calling?
What goes through the bushes yonder?
Can it be the Salamander--
Belly thick and legs a-sprawling?
Roots and fibres, snake-like, crawling,
Out from rocky, sandy places,
Wheresoe'er we turn our faces,
Stretch enormous fingers round us,
Here to catch us, there confound us;
Thick, black knars to life are starting,
Polypusses'-feelers darting
At the traveller. Field-mice, swarming,
Thousand-colored armies forming,
Scamper on through moss and heather!
And the glow-worms, in the darkling,
With their crowded escort sparkling,
Would confound us altogether.
But to guess I'm vainly trying--
Are we stopping? are we hieing?
Round and round us all seems flying,
Rocks and trees, that make grimaces,
And the mist-lights of the places
Ever swelling, multiplying.
_Mephistopheles_. Here's my coat-tail--tightly thumb it!
We have reached a middle summit,
Whence one stares to see how shines
Mammon in the mountain-mines.
_Faust_. How strangely through the dim recesses
A dreary dawning seems to glow!
And even down the deep abysses
Its melancholy quiverings throw!
Here smoke is boiling, mist exhaling;
Here from a vapory veil it gleams,
Then, a fine thread of light, goes trailing,
Then gushes up in fiery streams.
The valley, here, you see it follow,
One mighty flood, with hundred rills,
And here, pent up in some deep hollow,
It breaks on all sides down the hills.
Here, spark-showers, darting up before us,
Like golden sand-clouds rise and fall.
But yonder see how blazes o'er us,
All up and down, the rocky wall!
_Mephistopheles_. Has not Sir Mammon gloriously lighted
His palace for this festive night?
Count thyself lucky for the sight:
I catch e'en now a glimpse of noisy guests invited.
_Faust_. How the mad tempest[34] sweeps the air!
On cheek and neck the wind-gusts how they flout me.
_Mephistopheles_. Must seize the rock's old ribs and hold on stoutly!
Else will they hurl thee down the dark abysses there.
A mist-rain thickens the gloom.
Hark, how the forests crash and boom!
Out fly the owls in dread and wonder;
Splitting their columns asunder,
Hear it, the evergreen palaces shaking!
Boughs are twisting and breaking!
Of stems what a grinding and moaning!
Of roots what a creaking and groaning!
In frightful confusion, headlong tumbling,
They fall, with a sound of thunder rumbling,
And, through the wreck-piled ravines and abysses,
The tempest howls and hisses.
Hearst thou voices high up o'er us?
Close around us--far before us?
Through the mountain, all along,
Swells a torrent of magic song.
_Witches_ [_in chorus_]. The witches go to the Brocken's top,
The stubble is yellow, and green the crop.
They gather there at the well-known call,
Sir Urian[85] sits at the head of all.
Then on we go o'er stone and stock:
The witch, she--and--the buck.
_Voice_. Old Baubo comes along, I vow!
She rides upon a farrow-sow.
_Chorus_. Then honor to whom honor's due!
Ma'am Baubo ahead! and lead the crew!
A good fat sow, and ma'am on her back,
Then follow the witches all in a pack.
_Voice_. Which way didst thou come?
_Voice_. By the Ilsenstein!
Peeped into an owl's nest, mother of mine!
What a pair of eyes!
_Voice_. To hell with your flurry!
Why ride in such hurry!
_Voice_. The hag be confounded!
My skin flie has wounded!
_Witches_ [_chorus]. _ The way is broad, the way is long,
What means this noisy, crazy throng?
The broom it scratches, the fork it flicks,
The child is stifled, the mother breaks.
_Wizards_ [_semi-chorus_]. Like housed-up snails we're creeping on,
The women all ahead are gone.
When to the Bad One's house we go,
She gains a thousand steps, you know.
_The other half_. We take it not precisely so;
What she in thousand steps can go,
Make all the haste she ever can,
'Tis done in just one leap by man.
_Voice_ [_above_].
