第 二十四 章 · NIGHT

for young or old!

They start another dance: come now, let us take hold!

FAUST (_dancing with the young witch_)

A lovely dream once came to me;

I then beheld an apple-tree,

And there two fairest apples shone:

They lured me so, I climbed thereon.

THE FAIR ONE

Apples have been desired by you,

Since first in Paradise they grew;

And I am moved with joy, to know

That such within my garden grow.

MEPHISTOPHELES (_dancing with the old one_)

A dissolute dream once came to me:

Therein I saw a cloven tree,

Which had a————————;

Yet,——as ’twas, I fancied it.

THE OLD ONE

I offer here my best salute

Unto the knight with cloven foot!

Let him a—————prepare,

If him—————————does not scare.

PROKTOPHANTASMIST

Accurséd folk! How dare you venture thus?

Had you not, long since, demonstration

That ghosts can’t stand on ordinary foundation?

And now you even dance, like one of us!

THE FAIR ONE (_dancing_)

Why does he come, then, to our ball?

FAUST (_dancing_)

O, everywhere on him you fall!

When others dance, he weighs the matter:

If he can’t every step bechatter,

Then ’tis the same as were the step not made;

But if you forwards go, his ire is most displayed.

If you would whirl in regular gyration

As he does in his dull old mill,

He’d show, at any rate, good-will,—

Especially if you heard and heeded his hortation.

PROKTOPHANTASMIST

You still are here? Nay, ’tis a thing unheard!

Vanish, at once! We’ve said the enlightening word.

The pack of devils by no rules is daunted:

We are so wise, and yet is Tegel haunted.

To clear the folly out, how have I swept and stirred!

Twill ne’er be clean: why, ’tis a thing unheard!

THE FAIR ONE

Then cease to bore us at our ball!

PROKTOPHANTASMIST

I tell you, spirits, to your face,

I give to spirit-despotism no place;

My spirit cannot practise it at all.

(_The dance continues_)

Naught will succeed, I see, amid such revels;

Yet something from a tour I always save,

And hope, before my last step to the grave,

To overcome the poets and the devils.

MEPHISTOPHELES

He now will seat him in the nearest puddle;

The solace this, whereof he’s most assured:

And when upon his rump the leeches hang and fuddle,

He’ll be of spirits and of Spirit cured.

(_To_ FAUST, _who has left the dance_:)

Wherefore forsakest thou the lovely maiden,

That in the dance so sweetly sang?

FAUST

Ah! in the midst of it there sprang

A red mouse from her mouth—sufficient reason.

MEPHISTOPHELES

That’s nothing! One must not so squeamish be;

So the mouse was not gray, enough for thee.

Who’d think of that in love’s selected season?

FAUST

Then saw I—.

MEPHISTOPHELES

What?

FAUST

Mephisto, seest thou there,

Alone and far, a girl most pale and fair?

She falters on, her way scarce knowing,

As if with fettered feet that stay her going.

I must confess, it seems to me

As if my kindly Margaret were she.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Let the thing be! All thence have evil drawn:

It is a magic shape, a lifeless eidolon.

Such to encounter is not good:

Their blank, set stare benumbs the human blood,

And one is almost turned to stone.

Medusa’s tale to thee is known.

FAUST

Forsooth, the eyes they are of one whom, dying,

No hand with loving pressure closed;

That is the breast whereon I once was lying,—

The body sweet, beside which I reposed!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Tis magic all, thou fool, seduced so easily!

Unto each man his love she seems to be.

FAUST

The woe, the rapture, so ensnare me,

That from her gaze I cannot tear me!

And, strange! around her fairest throat

A single scarlet band is gleaming,

No broader than a knife-blade seeming!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Quite right! The mark I also note.

Her head beneath her arm she’ll sometimes carry;

Twas Perseus lopped it, her old adversary.

Thou crav’st the same illusion still!

Come, let us mount this little hill;

The Prater shows no livelier stir,

And, if they’ve not bewitched my sense,

I verily see a theatre.

What’s going on?

SERVIBILIS

’Twill shortly recommence:

A new performance—’tis the last of seven.

To give that number is the custom here:

’Twas by a Dilettante written,

And Dilettanti in the parts appear.

That now I vanish, pardon, I entreat you!

As Dilettante I the curtain raise.

MEPHISTOPHELES

When I upon the Blocksberg meet you,

I find it good: for that’s your proper place.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XXII

WALPURGIS-NIGHT’S DREAM

OBERON AND TITANIA’s GOLDEN WEDDING

INTERMEZZO

MANAGER

Sons of Mieding, rest to-day!

Needless your machinery:

Misty vale and mountain gray,

That is all the scenery.

HERALD

That the wedding golden be.

Must fifty years be rounded:

But _the Golden_ give to me,

When the strife’s compounded.

OBERON

Spirits, if you’re here, be seen—

Show yourselves, delighted!

Fairy king and fairy queen,

They are newly plighted.

PUCK

Cometh Puck, and, light of limb,

Whisks and whirls in measure:

Come a hundred after him,

To share with him the pleasure.

ARIEL

Ariel’s song is heavenly-pure,

His tones are sweet and rare ones:

Though ugly faces he allure,

Yet he allures the fair ones.

OBERON

Spouses, who would fain agree,

Learn how we were mated!

If your pairs would loving be,

First be separated!

TITANIA

If her whims the wife control,

And the man berate her,

Take him to the Northern Pole,

And her to the Equator!

ORCHESTRA. TUTTI.

_Fortissimo_.

Snout of fly, mosquito-bill,

And kin of all conditions,

Frog in grass, and cricket-trill,—

These are the musicians!

SOLO

See the bagpipe on our track!

’Tis the soap-blown bubble:

Hear the _schnecke-schnicke-schnack_

Through his nostrils double!

SPIRIT, JUST GROWING INTO FORM

Spider’s foot and paunch of toad,

And little wings—we know ’em!

A little creature ’twill not be,

But yet, a little poem.

A LITTLE COUPLE

Little step and lofty leap

Through honey-dew and fragrance:

You’ll never mount the airy steep

With all your tripping vagrance.

INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER

Is’t but masquerading play?

See I with precision?

Oberon, the beauteous fay,

Meets, to-night, my vision!

ORTHODOX

Not a claw, no tail I see!

And yet, beyond a cavil,

Like “the Gods of Greece,” must he

Also be a devil.

NORTHERN ARTIST

I only seize, with sketchy air,

Some outlines of the tourney;

Yet I betimes myself prepare

For my Italian journey.

PURIST

My bad luck brings me here, alas!

How roars the orgy louder!

And of the witches in the mass,

But only two wear powder.

YOUNG WITCH

Powder becomes, like petticoat,

A gray and wrinkled noddy;

So I sit naked on my goat,

And show a strapping body.

MATRON

We’ve too much tact and policy

To rate with gibes a scolder;

Yet, young and tender though you be,

I hope to see you moulder.

LEADER OF THE BAND

Fly-snout and mosquito-bill,

Don’t swarm so round the Naked!

Frog in grass and cricket-trill,

Observe the time, and make it!

WEATHERCOCK (_towards one side_)

Society to one’s desire!

Brides only, and the sweetest!

And bachelors of youth and fire.

And prospects the completest!

WEATHERCOCK (_towards the other side_)

And if the Earth don’t open now

To swallow up each ranter,

Why, then will I myself, I vow,

Jump into hell instanter!

XENIES

Us as little insects see!

With sharpest nippers flitting,

That our Papa Satan we

May honor as is fitting.

HENNINGS

How, in crowds together massed,

They are jesting, shameless!

They will even say, at last,

That their hearts are blameless.

MUSAGETES

Among this witches’ revelry

His way one gladly loses;

And, truly, it would easier be

Than to command the Muses.

CI-

SCENE 24. NIGHT

DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE

The proper folks one’s talents laud:

Come on, and none shall pass us!

The Blocksberg has a summit broad,

Like Germany’s Parnassus.

INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER

Say, who’s the stiff and pompous man?

He walks with haughty paces:

He snuffles all he snuffle can:

“He scents the Jesuits’ traces.”

CRANE

Both clear and muddy streams, for me

Are good to fish and sport in:

And thus the pious man you see

With even devils consorting.

WORLDLING

Yes, for the pious, I suspect,

All instruments are fitting;

And on the Blocksberg they erect

Full many a place of meeting.

DANCER

A newer chorus now succeeds!

I hear the distant drumming.

“Don’t be disturbed! ’tis, in the reeds,

The bittern’s changeless booming.”

DANCING-MASTER

How each his legs in nimble trip

Lifts up, and makes a clearance!

The crooked jump, the heavy skip,

Nor care for the appearance.

GOOD FELLOW

The rabble by such hate are held,

To maim and slay delights them:

As Orpheus’ lyre the brutes compelled,

The bagpipe here unites them.

DOGMATIST

I’ll not be led by any lure

Of doubts or critic-cavils:

The Devil must be something, sure,—

Or how should there be devils?

IDEALIST

This once, the fancy wrought in me

Is really too despotic:

Forsooth, if I am all I see,

I must be idiotic!

REALIST

This racking fuss on every hand,

It gives me great vexation;

And, for the first time, here I stand

On insecure foundation.

SUPERNATURALIST

With much delight I see the play,

And grant to these their merits,

Since from the devils I also may

Infer the better spirits.

SCEPTIC

The flame they follow, on and on,

And think they’re near the treasure:

But _Devil_ rhymes with _Doubt_ alone,

So I am here with pleasure.

LEADER OF THE BAND

Frog in green, and cricket-trill.

Such dilettants!—perdition!

Fly-snout and mosquito-bill,—

Each one’s a fine musician!

THE ADROIT

_Sans souci_, we call the clan

Of merry creatures so, then;

Go a-foot no more we can,

And on our heads we go, then.

THE AWKWARD

Once many a bit we sponged, but now,

God help us! that is done with:

Our shoes are all danced out, we trow,

We’ve but naked soles to run with.

WILL-O’-THE WISPS

From the marshes we appear,

Where we originated;

Yet in the ranks, at once, we’re here

As glittering gallants rated.

SHOOTING-STAR

Darting hither from the sky,

In star and fire light shooting,

Cross-wise now in grass I lie:

Who’ll help me to my footing?

THE HEAVY FELLOWS

Room! and round about us, room!

Trodden are the grasses:

Spirits also, spirits come,

And they are bulky masses.

PUCK

Enter not so stall-fed quite,

Like elephant-calves about one!

And the heaviest weight to-night

Be Puck, himself, the stout one!

ARIEL

If loving Nature at your back,

Or Mind, the wings uncloses,

Follow up my airy track

To the mount of roses!

ORCHESTRA

_pianissimo_

Cloud and trailing mist o’erhead

Are now illuminated:

Air in leaves, and wind in reed,

And all is dissipated.

[Illustration]

XXIII

DREARY DAY

A FIELD

FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES

FAUST

In misery! In despair! Long wretchedly astray on the face of the earth,

and now imprisoned! That gracious, ill-starred creature shut in a