And with presumption too extreme
Of free, superangelic strength, divine
Creative life, thought even now to stream 620
Through Nature’s veins—what sudden shame was mine!
A voice of thunder dashed me from that dream.
Not close to you, not like you; this I dare
No longer claim to be. I had the power
To summon you, but could not hold you there.
I felt in that ecstatic hour
So small, and yet so great: and then
You hurled me back so cruelly
Into the changeful common state of men.
What must I do now? who shall counsel me? 630
What urge claims my obedience?
Alas, not only pain, even activity
Itself can stop our life’s advance.
The spirit’s noblest moments, rare and high,
Are choked by matter’s alien obtrusion,
And rich with this world’s goods, we cry
Scorn on those better things as mere illusion.
Life-giving intuitions of great worth
Are stifled in the muddle of the earth.
Imagination, once a flight sublime 640
That soared in hope beyond the swirl of time,
Now, as each joy is drowned beyond redress,
Sinks down inside us into pettiness:
Care make its nest in the heart’s deepest hole
And secretly torments the soul;
Its restless rocking motion mars our mind’s content.
Its masks are ever-changing, it appears
As house and home, as wife and child, it will invent
Wounds, poisons, fires and floods—from all
These blows we flinch before they ever fall, 650
And for imagined losses shed continual tears.
I am not like a god! Too deeply now I feel
This truth. I am a worm stuck in the dust,
Burrowing and feeding, where at last I must
Be crushed and buried by some rambler’s heel.
Is this not dust, filling a hundred shelves
On these high walls that hem me in?
These thousand useless toys that thrust themselves
At me in this moth-mumbled rubbish-bin?
How shall I find fulfilment in this gaol, 660
Reading the thousand-times-reprinted tale
Of man’s perpetual strife and stress
And rare occasional happiness?—
You hollow skull, what does your grinning say?
That brain, in the confusion of its youth,
Like mine, once sought the ethereal dawn of truth
But in the heavy dusk went piteously astray.
And you old instruments, how you too mock,
What scorn your wheels, cogs, pulleys pour on me!
I reached the gate, you were to be the key: 670
Your bit’s a well-curled beard, but it won’t fit the lock.
We snatch in vain at Nature’s veil,
She is mysterious in broad daylight,
No screws or levers can compel her to reveal
The secrets she has hidden from our sight.
Useless mechanical contrivances, retained
Because my father used them, old smoke-stained
Parchments that have lain here, untouched by toil,
Since my dull lamp first burnt its midnight oil!
I should have squandered all my poor inheritance, 680
Not sat here sweating while it weighed me down.
What we are born with, we must make our own
Or it remains a mere appurtenance
And is not ours: a load of unused things,
Not the live moment’s need, raised on the moment’s wings.
But what is this? My eyes, magnetically drawn,
Are fixed on that one spot, where I can see
That little flask: why does sweet light break over me,
As when in a dark wood the gentle moonbeams dawn?
Unique alembic! Reverently I lift 690
You down and greet you. Now, most subtle gift
Compounded of the wit and art of man,
Distilment of all drowsy syrups, kind
Quintessence of all deadly and refined
Elixirs, come, and serve your master as you can!
I see you, and am healed as with a balm,
I seize you, and my striving soul grows calm;
And borne upon my spirit’s ebbing tide,
Little by little drifting out to sea,
I tread on its bright mirror—far and wide 700
As new dawn breaks, new shores are beckoning me!
A fiery chariot on light wings descends
And hovers by me! I will set forth here
On a new journey to the heaven’s ends,
To pure activity in a new sphere!
O sublime life, o godlike joy! And how
Do I, the ertswhile worm, deserve it now?
I will be resolute, and turn away
For ever from the earth’s sweet day.
Dread doors, though all men sneak and shuffle past 710
You, I’ll confront you, tear you open wide!
Here it is time for me to prove at last
That by his noble deeds a man is deified;
Time not to shrink from the dark cavern where
Our fancy damns itself to its own tortured fate;
Time to approach the narrow gate
Ringed by the eternal flames of hell’s despair;
Time to step gladly over this great brink,
And if it is the void, into the void to sink!
Old goblet of pure crystal, come, now let 720
Me take you from your shelf and sheath. Long years
Have passed since last I thought of you; and yet
At bygone feasts you were the cup that cheers
The solemn guests, the gleaming beaker
Raised to the least by many a speaker!
Your rich engraved pictorial decorations,
The drinker’s task, his rhyming explanations
Before in one long draught he drained you down—
These I recall, from revels long ago;
I passed you round, I praised your art to show 730
My wit. Now I shall not do so.
I have a potion here whose work’s soon done;
Its dizzying liquid fills you, dark and brown.
I made and mixed it well, as I know how.
And so, with all my heart, I raise it now:
With this last festive drink I greet the rising sun!
[He sets the cup to his lips. There is a peal of bells and a sound of choral singing.]
CHORUS OF ANGELS. Christ is ris’n from the dead!*
Hail to all mortal men,
From sin’s insidious bane,
From their inherited 740
Bondage set free again!
FAUST. What lilting tones are these, what notes profound
Cry to me: Do not drink! Have they such power?
And do these bells with their dull booming sound
Announce the Easter festival’s first hour?
Is this already the angelic song
Of solace, heard above the grave that night so long
Ago, when the new covenant was sealed and bound?
CHORUS OF WOMEN. Spices we brought and myrrh,
We who befriended him, 750
Faithfully laid him here,
Lovingly tended him;
Clean linen, swaddling-bands,
We wound with our own hands.
Who can have come today
Taking our Lord away?
CHORUS OF ANGELS. Christ is raised, Christ is blest!
He bore mankind’s ordeal,
Loving their joys to feel,
Suffering the stripes that heal: 760
He passed the test!
FAUST. You gentle, puissant choirs of heaven, why
Do you come seeking me? Th
e dust is stronger!
Go, chant elsewhere to tenderer souls! For I
Can hear the message, but believe no longer.
Wonders are dear to faith, by it they live and die.
I cannot venture to those far-off spheres,
Their sweet evangel is not for my ears.
And yet—these strains, so long familiar, still
They call me back to life. There was a time* 770
Of quiet, solemn sabbaths when heaven’s kiss would fill
Me with its love’s descent, when a bell’s chime
Was deep mysterious music, and to pray
Was fervent ecstasy. I could not understand
The sweet desire that drove me far away
Out through the woods, over the meadowland:
There I would weep a thousand tears and feel
A whole world come to birth, my own yet real.
Those hymns would herald youthful games we played
To celebrate the spring. As I recall 780
That childhood, I am moved, my hand is stayed,
I cannot take this last and gravest step of all.
Oh sing, dear heaven-voices, as before!
Now my tears flow, I love the earth once more!
CHORUS OF DISCIPLES. Now from his burial
Christ has gone up on high,
Living, no more to die,
Glorious, imperial;
He in creative zest
Into the heavens has grown. 790
On che earth-mother’s breast
We still must weep alone;
Yet though we here endure
Exile and anguish,
Master, it is in your
Joy that we languish!
CHORUS OF ANGELS. Christ is raised from the tomb,
Snatched from corruption’s womb!
Rise and be joyful, all
You whom earth’s bonds enthral! 800
Brothers, o blessed few,
Sharers of love’s food, who
Praise him in deeds you do,
Pilgrims whose words renew
Man’s hope of glory: you
Know that your Lord is near,
See, he is here!
5. OUTSIDE THE TOWN WALL [F.I.
[A variety of people setting out on country walks.]
SOME APPRENTICES. Why are you going that way, you lot?
OTHERS. We’re off to the hunting-lodge, why not?
FIRST GROUP. Well, we’re going this way, out to the mill. 810
AN APPRENTICE. That inn by the river’s worth a visit.
ANOTHER. Not much of a road for getting there, is it?
SECOND GROUP. What about you?
THIRD APPRENTICE. I’ll go with them.
A FOURTH. Come up the hill
To Burgdorf! I promise you you’ll get
The best girls there, the best beer yet,
And plenty of good quarrels to pick.
A FIFTH. Well, you’re a fine fellow, I must say!
Keen for another dose of stick?
I don’t care for that place, I keep away.
A SERVANT GIRL. No, that I shan’t, I’m going back home! 820
ANOTHER. But he’s sure to be by those poplars—come, Over there!
THE FIRST. Oh, very nice for me too,
I dare say! He’ll be walking with you,
He’ll be your partner on the dancing-floor.
Your fun isn’t my fun any more.
THE OTHER. I’m sure he won’t be alone; he did say
The curly-haired boy would be with him today.
A STUDENT. Look at them, my friend! Come along—hell’s bells,
We must take a walk with those strapping girls!
A good strong beer, a puff of weed 830
And a fine smart lass are what I need.
A YOUNG LADY. Look at those nice boys! I do declare
It’s positively scandalous:
They could keep company with us,
Ana yet they chase those hussies there.
SECOND STUDENT [to the first]. Not so fast! There’s another two behind,
Just look, they’re dressed up pretty neat!
One of them lives near me; she’s sweet!
Now that’s a girl I wouldn’t mind.
Both nice and quiet, ambling to and fro; 840
They’ll end by taking us in tow.
FIRST STUDENT. No, no, being polite’s no fun, my friend!
Quick, let’s not lose our proper prey!
A hand that holds a broom on Saturday
Makes better love the rest of the weekend!
A CITIZEN. No, I don’t fancy the new burgomaster,
Insolent fellow! Why, he’s a disaster.
What’s he done for the town? Since they
Appointed him, things get worse day by day:
More and more regulations to obey, 850
Higher and higher rates to pay.
A BEGGAR [singing]. Kind sirs, fair ladies plump and red,
All dressed up in your finery!
Pray look at me, who have no bread,
And spare some coins, for charity!
Come, hear my hurdy-gurdy plead!
Happy who gives to one in need.
On such a day, when all rejoice,
Let me earn something by my voice!
ANOTHER CITIZEN. There’s nothing better, on a holiday, 860
Than talk and noise of war to while the time away.
Some far-off war, in Turkey, let’s suppose,
Some place where armies come to blows.
One watches from the window, sips one’s glass,
While down the river all those fine ships pass.
And back home in the evening, we congratulate
Each other on our peaceful happy state.
A THIRD CITIZEN. Yes, neighbour, I agree, quite so, quite so!
Let them all split each other’s skulls out there,
Let the world go to pot for all I care, 870
But here at home, let’s keep the status quo!
AN OLD WOMAN [to the young ladies]. Why, how now, my proud beauties! What young sir
Could see you and not fall in love?—
Well, no offence, my dears! I’ve said enough.
But I could find you what you’re looking for.
FIRST YOUNG LADY. Agatha, come! In public 1 steer clear
Of her; she’s an old witch with second sight.
It’s true that on St. Andrew’s night
She caused my future sweetheart to appear.
SECOND YOUNG LADY. She showed me mine in a glass 880 ball:
A soldier-boy, with soldier friends to match.
Now I look everywhere, and I can’t catch
Even a glimpse of him at all.
SOLDIERS. Show us a fortress
Proudly defended,
Give me a mistress
Haughty and splendid!
We are the valiant,
We are the gallant,
War-spoil and love-spoil 890
Are ours to be won!
Trumpets, sing out and
Sound our advances,
Stir us to action,
To joy and destruction!
This is the life for us,
This is the strife for us!
Castles or girls, we’ll
Breach their defences!
War-spoil and love-spoil 900
Are ours to be won.
Soldiers, march on!
[Enter FAUST and WAGNER.]
FAUST. Ice thaws on the river, ice melts on the streams,
They are freed again as the spring sun gleams.
The valley is green with new life, new hopes;
Old winter is beaten—see how it withdrew
To skulk up there on rough mountain-slopes!
And now in its weakness all it can do
Is to scatter hail in impotent showers
Over the meadows as they turn green. 910
But the sun will allow no white to be s
een:
It calls for colours as the earth revives,
As everything grows and stirs and strives;
And the countryside is still short of flowers,
So the people instead, dressed up so fine,
Are lured out into the sweet sunshine.
Look back at the town from where we stand,
Look down at its hollow, gloomy gate,
Where the glad throng pours out over the land!
They have something today to celebrate, 920
For the Lord’s resurrection is theirs as well:
Today they have risen and been set free
From the mean damp houses where they dwell,
From their trades and crafts and drudgery,
From the gabled roofs’ oppressive gloom,
From the choking streets where they fight for room,
From the churches’ solemn devotional night—
They all have risen into the light!
Oh, look how so many are nimbly dispersing
Over the gardens, across the fields, 930
And the boats on the river happily coursing;
How the wide stream flows, how the water yields!
And that last one setting off, almost foundering
Under its load; and even up there
On the far-off hills there are people wandering,
We can see them by the bright colours they wear.
We’re nearing the village, I hear the noise.
These are the simple folk’s real joys.
They shout with delight, the whole motley crowd:
Here I am human, here it’s allowed! 940
WAGNER. It is an honour to walk out with you,*
Doctor, and one I profit by;
But to come here alone would never do,
It’s too vulgar and coarse for such as I.
Their fiddling, skittling, shrieking—I’m appalled
By it, such noises I detest.
They rave as if they were possessed,
And fun and singing’s what it’s called!
CHORUS OF VILLAGERS [dancing and singing under the linden-tree].
A shepherd boy went out one night
Dressed up to dance in colours bright, 950
All in his fine array, oh!
And all the village, full of glee,
Was dancing round the linden-tree.
Hey-ho, hey-ho,
Hey-hoppie-hoppie-ho,
The fiddlers they did play, oh!
And as he joined the merry whirl
His elbow jogged a buxom girl:
Why was she in his way, oh?
The saucy lass she turned about 960
And said: ‘Why, what a clumsy lout!’
Hey-ho, hey-ho,
Hey-hoppie-hoppie-ho,
‘Sir, mind your manners, pray, oh!’
But on they danced, and spurned the ground,
And left and right and round and round,
And skirts did swirl and sway, oh!
They danced till they were flushed and warm