Kabanata Kabanata 3 · THE STUDY (_The Exorcism_)

st zealously I seek for erudition:

Much do I know—but to know all is my ambition.

[_Exit_.

FAUST (_solus_)

That brain, alone, not loses hope, whose choice is

To stick in shallow trash forevermore,—

Which digs with eager hand for buried ore,

And, when it finds an angle-worm, rejoices!

Dare such a human voice disturb the flow,

Around me here, of spirit-presence fullest?

And yet, this once my thanks I owe

To thee, of all earth’s sons the poorest, dullest!

For thou hast torn me from that desperate state

Which threatened soon to overwhelm my senses:

The apparition was so giant-great,

It dwarfed and withered all my soul’s pretences!

I, image of the Godhead, who began—

Deeming Eternal Truth secure in nearness—

To sun myself in heavenly light and clearness,

And laid aside the earthly man;—

I, more than Cherub, whose free force had planned

To flow through Nature’s veins in glad pulsation,

To reach beyond, enjoying in creation

The life of Gods, behold my expiation!

A thunder-word hath swept me from my stand.27

With thee I dare not venture to compare me.

Though I possessed the power to draw thee near me,

The power to keep thee was denied my hand.

When that ecstatic moment held me,

I felt myself so small, so great;

But thou hast ruthlessly repelled me

Back upon Man’s uncertain fate.

What shall I shun? Whose guidance borrow?

Shall I accept that stress and strife?

Ah! every deed of ours, no less than every sorrow,

Impedes the onward march of life.

Some alien substance more and more is cleaving

To all the mind conceives of grand and fair;

When this world’s Good is won by our achieving,

The Better, then, is named a cheat and snare.

The fine emotions, whence our lives we mould,

Lie in the earthly tumult dumb and cold.

If hopeful Fancy once, in daring flight,

Her longings to the Infinite expanded,

Yet now a narrow space contents her quite,

Since Time’s wild wave so many a fortune stranded.

Care at the bottom of the heart is lurking:

Her secret pangs in silence working,

She, restless, rocks herself, disturbing joy and rest:

In newer masks her face is ever drest,

By turns as house and land, as wife and child, presented,—

As water, fire, as poison, steel:

We dread the blows we never feel,

And what we never lose is yet by us lamented!

I am not like the Gods! That truth is felt too deep:

The worm am I, that in the dust doth creep,—

That, while in dust it lives and seeks its bread,

Is crushed and buried by the wanderer’s tread.

Is not this dust, these walls within them hold,

The hundred shelves, which cramp and chain me,

The frippery, the trinkets thousandfold,

That in this mothy den restrain me?

Here shall I find the help I need?

Shall here a thousand volumes teach me only

That men, self-tortured, everywhere must bleed,—

And here and there one happy man sits lonely?28

What mean’st thou by that grin, thou hollow skull,

Save that thy brain, like mine, a cloudy mirror,

Sought once the shining day, and then, in twilight dull,29

Thirsting for Truth, went wretchedly to Error?

Ye instruments, forsooth, but jeer at me

With wheel and cog, and shapes uncouth of wonder;

I found the portal, you the keys should be;

Your wards are deftly wrought, but drive no bolts asunder!

Mysterious even in open day,

Nature retains her veil, despite our clamors:

That which she doth not willingly display

Cannot be wrenched from her with levers, screws, and hammers.

Ye ancient tools, whose use I never knew,

Here, since my father used ye, still ye moulder:

Thou, ancient scroll, hast worn thy smoky hue

Since at this desk the dim lamp wont to smoulder.

’T were better far, had I my little idly spent,

Than now to sweat beneath its burden, I confess it!

What from your fathers’ heritage is lent,

Earn it anew, to really possess it!30

What serves not, is a sore impediment:

The Moment’s need creates the thing to serve and bless it!

Yet, wherefore tums my gaze to yonder point so lightly?

Is yonder flask a magnet for mine eyes?

Whence, all around me, glows the air so brightly,

As when in woods at night the mellow moonbeam lies?

I hail thee, wondrous, rarest vial!

I take thee down devoutly, for the trial:

Man’s art and wit I venerate in thee.

Thou summary of gentle slumber-juices,

Essence of deadly finest powers and uses,

Unto thy master show thy favor free!

I see thee, and the stings of pain diminish;

I grasp thee, and my struggles slowly finish:

My spirit’s flood-tide ebbeth more and more.

Out on the open ocean speeds my dreaming;

The glassy flood before my feet is gleaming,

A new day beckons to a newer shore!

A fiery chariot, borne on buoyant pinions,

Sweeps near me now! I soon shall ready be

To pierce the ether’s high, unknown dominions,

To reach new spheres of pure activity!

This godlike rapture, this supreme existence,

Do I, but now a worm, deserve to track?

Yes, resolute to reach some brighter distance,

On Earth’s fair sun I turn my back 31

Yes, let me dare those gates to fling asunder,

Which every man would fain go slinking by!

’T is time, through deeds this word of truth to thunder:

That with the height of Gods Man’s dignity may vie!

Nor from that gloomy gulf to shrink affrighted,

Where Fancy doth herself to self-born pangs compel,—

To struggle toward that pass benighted,

Around whose narrow mouth flame all the fires of Hell,—

To take this step with cheerful resolution,

Though Nothingness should be the certain, swift conclusion!

And now come down, thou cup of crystal clearest!

Fresh from thine ancient cover thou appearest,

So many years forgotten to my thought!

Thou shon’st at old ancestral banquets cheery,

The solemn guests thou madest merry,

When one thy wassail to the other brought.

The rich and skilful figures o’er thee wrought,

The drinker’s duty, rhyme-wise to explain them,

Or in one breath below the mark to drain them,

From many a night of youth my memory caught.

Now to a neighbor shall I pass thee never,

Nor on thy curious art to test my wit endeavor,

Here is a juice whence sleep is swiftly born.

It fills with browner flood thy crystal hollow;

I chose, prepared it: thus I follow,—

With all my soul the final drink I swallow,

A solemn festal cup, a greeting to the morn!

[He sets the goblet to his mouth.

(Chime of bells and choral song.)

CHORUS OF ANGELS.32

Christ is arisen!

Joy to the Mortal One,

Whom the unmerited,

Clinging, inherited

Needs did imprison.

FAUST.

What hollow humming, what a sharp, clear stroke,

Drives from my lip the goblet’s, at their meeting?

Announce the booming bells already woke

The first glad hour of Easter’s festal greeting?

Ye choirs, have ye begun the sweet, consoling chant,

Which, through the night of Death, the angels ministrant

Sang, God’s new Covenant repeating?

CHORUS OF WOMEN

With spices and precious

Balm, we arrayed him;

Faithful and gracious,

We tenderly laid him:

Linen to bind him

Cleanlily wound we:

Ah! when we would find him,

Christ no more found we!

CHORUS OF ANGELS

Christ is ascended!

Bliss hath invested him,—

Woes that molested him,

Trials that tested him,

Gloriously ended!

FAUST

Why, here in dust, entice me with your spell,

Ye gentle, powerful sounds of Heaven?

Peal rather there, where tender natures dwell.

Your messages I hear, but faith has not been given;

The dearest child of Faith is Miracle.

I venture not to soar to yonder regions

Whence the glad tidings hither float;

And yet, from childhood up familiar with the note,

To Life it now renews the old allegiance.

Once Heavenly Love sent down a burning kiss

Upon my brow, in Sabbath silence holy;

And, fil

SCENE 4.