The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01

Poor thing!

BESSY

 Forsooth dost pity her?At night, when at our wheels we sat,Abroad our mothers ne'er would let us stir.Then with her lover she must chat,Or on the bench, or in the dusky walk,Thinking the hours too brief for their sweet talk;Her proud head she will have to bow,And in white sheet do penance now!

MARGARET

But he will surely marry her?

BESSY

 Not he!He won't be such a fool! a gallant ladLike him can roam o'er land and sea;Besides, he's off.

MARGARET

That is not fair!

BESSY

If she should get him, 'twere almost as bad!Her myrtle wreath the boys would tear;And then we girls would plague her too,For we chopp'd straw before her door would strew!

[Exit.]

MARGARET (walking toward home)

How stoutly once I could inveigh,If a poor maiden went astray;Not words enough my tongue could find,'Gainst others' sin to speak my mind!Black as it seemed, I blacken'd it still more,And strove to make it blacker than before.And did myself securely bless—Now my own trespass doth appear!Yet ah!—what urg'd me to transgress,God knows, it was so sweet, so dear!

ZWINGER

Inclosure between the City-wall and the Gate. (In the niche of the wall a devotional image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower-pots before it.)

MARGARET (putting fresh flowers in the pots)

 Ah, rich in sorrow, thou, Stoop thy maternal brow, And mark with pitying eye my misery! The sword in thy pierced heart, Thou dost with bitter smart Gaze upwards on thy Son's death agony. To the dear God on high Ascends thy piteous sigh, Pleading for his and thy sore misery. Ah, who can know The torturing woe, The pangs that rack me to the bone? How my poor heart, without relief, Trembles and throbs, its yearning grief Thou knowest, thou alone! Ah, wheresoe'er I go, With woe, with woe, with woe, My anguish'd breast is aching! When all alone I creep, I weep, I weep, I weep, Alas! my heart is breaking! The flower-pots at my window Were wet with tears of mine, The while I pluck'd these blossoms At dawn to deck thy shrine! When early in my chamber Shone bright the rising morn, I sat there on my pallet, My heart with anguish torn. Help! from disgrace and death deliver me! Ah! rich in sorrow, thou, Stoop thy maternal brow, And mark with pitying eye my misery!

NIGHT. STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR

VALENTINE (a soldier, MARGARET's brother)

When seated 'mong the jovial crowd,Where merry comrades boasting loudEach named with pride his favorite lass,And in her honor drain'd his glass;Upon my elbows I would lean,With easy quiet view the scene,Nor give my tongue the rein, untilEach swaggering blade had talked his fill.Then smiling I my beard would stroke,The while, with brimming glass, I spoke;"Each to his taste!—but to my mind,Where in the country will you find,A maid, as my dear Gretchen fair,Who with my sister can compare?"Cling! clang! so rang the jovial sound!Shouts of assent went circling round;Pride of her sex is she!—cried some;Then were the noisy boasters dumb.And now!—I could tear out my hair,Or dash my brains out in despair!—Me every scurvy knave may twit,With stinging jest and taunting sneer!Like skulking debtor I must sit,And sweat each casual word to hear!And though I smash'd them one and all,—Yet them I could not liars call. Who comes this way? who's sneaking here? If I mistake not, two draw near. If he be one, have at him;—well I wot Alive he shall not leave this spot!

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES

FAUST

How far from yon sacristy, athwart the night,Its beams the ever-burning taper throws,While ever waning, fades the glimmering light,As gathering darkness doth around it close!So night like gloom doth in my bosom reign.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I'm like a tom-cat in a thievish veinThat up fire-ladders tall and steepAnd round the walls doth slyly creep;Virtuous withal I feel, with, I confess.A touch of thievish joy and wantonness.Thus through my limbs already burnsThe glorious Walpurgis night!After tomorrow it returns;Then why one wakes, one knows aright!

FAUST

Meanwhile, the treasure I see glimmering there.Will it ascend into the open air?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ere long thou wilt proceed with pleasureTo raise the casket with its treasure;I took a peep, therein are storedOf lion-dollars a rich hoard.

FAUST

And not a trinket? not a ring?Wherewith my lovely girl to deck?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I saw among them some such thing,A string of pearls to grace her neck.

FAUST

'Tis well! I'm always loath to go,Without some gift my love to show.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Some pleasures gratis to enjoyShould surely cause you no annoy.While bright with stars the heavens appear,I'll sing a masterpiece of art:A moral song shall charm her ear,More surely to beguile her heart.

(Sings to the guitar.)

 Kathrina, say, Why lingering stay At dawn of day Before your lover's door? Maiden, beware, Nor enter there, Lest forth you fare, A maiden never more. Maiden take heed! Reck well my rede! Is't done, the deed? Good night, you poor, poor thing! The spoiler's lies, His arts despise, Nor yield your prize, Without the marriage ring!

VALENTINE (steps forward)

Whom are you luring here? I'll give it you!Accursed rat-catchers, your strains I'll end!First, to the devil the guitar I'll send!Then to the devil with the singer too!

MEPHISTOPHELES

The poor guitar! 'tis done for now.

VALENTINE

Your skull shall follow next, I trow!

MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)

Doctor, stand fast! your strength collect!Be prompt, and do as I direct.Out with your whisk! keep close, I pray,I'll parry! do you thrust away!

VALENTINE

Then parry that!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Why not?

VALENTINE

That too!

MEPHISTOPHELES

With ease!

VALENTINE

 The devil fights for you!Why how is this? my hand's already lamed!

MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)

Thrust home!

VALENTINE (falls)

Alas!

MEPHISTOPHELES

 There! Now the lubber's tamed!But quick, away! We must at once take wing;A cry of murder strikes upon the ear;With the police I know my course to steer,But with the blood-ban 'tis another thing.

MARTHA (at the window)

Without! without!

MARGARET (at the window)

Quick, bring a light!

MARTHA (as above)

They rail and scuffle, scream and fight!

PEOPLE

One lieth here already dead!

MARTHA (coming out)

Where are the murderers? are they fled?

MARGARET (coming out)

Who lieth here?

PEOPLE

Thy mother's son.

MARGARET

Almighty God! I am undone!

VALENTINE

I'm dying—'tis a soon-told tale,And sooner done the deed.Why, women, do ye howl and wail?To my last words give heed!

[All gather round him.]

My Gretchen, see! still young art thou,Art not discreet enough, I trow,Thou dost thy matters ill;Let this in confidence be said:Since thou the path of shame dost tread,Tread it with right good will!

MARGARET

My brother! God! what can this mean?

VALENTINE

 Abstain,Nor dare God's holy name profane!What's done, alas, is done and past!Matters will take their course at last;By stealth thou dost begin with one,Others will follow him anon;And when a dozen thee have known,Thou'lt common be to all the town.When infamy is newly born,In secret she is brought to light,And the mysterious veil of nightO'er head and ears is drawn;The loathsome birth men fain would slay;But soon, full grown, she waxes bold,And though not fairer to behold,With brazen front insults the day:The more abhorrent to the sight,The more she courts the day's pure light,The time already I discern,When thee all honest folk will spurn,And shun thy hated form to meet,As when a corpse infects the street.Thy heart will sink in blank despair,When they shall look thee in the face!A golden chain no more thou'lt wear!Nor near the altar take in church thy place!In fair lace collar simply dightThou'lt dance no more with spirits light!In darksome corners thou wilt bide,Where beggars vile and cripples hide,And e'en though God thy crime forgive,On earth, a thing accursed, thou'lt live!

MARTHA

Your parting soul to God commend!Your dying breath in slander will you spend?

VALENTINE

Could I but reach thy wither'd frame,Thou wretched beldame, void of shame!Full measure I might hope to winOf pardon then for every sin.

MARGARET

Brother! what agonizing pain!

VALENTINE

I tell thee, from vain tears abstain!'Twas thy dishonor pierced my heart,Thy fall the fatal death-stab gave.Through the death-sleep I now departTo God, a soldier true and brave.

[Dies.]

CATHEDRAL

Service, Organ, and Anthem.

MARGARET amongst a number of people

EVIL-SPIRIT behind MARGARET

EVIL-SPIRIT

How different, Gretchen, was it once with thee,When thou, still full of innocence,Here to the altar camest,And from the small and well-con'd bookDidst lisp thy prayer,Half childish sport,Half God in thy young heart!Gretchen!What thoughts are thine?What deed of shameLurks in thy sinful heart?Is thy prayer utter'd for thy mother's soul,Who into long, long torment slept through thee?Whose blood is on thy threshold?—And stirs there not already 'neath thy heartAnother quick'ning pulse, that even nowTortures itself and theeWith its foreboding presence?

MARGARET

Woe! Woe!Oh, could I free me from the thoughtsThat hither, thither, crowd upon my brain,Against my will!

CHORUS

Dies irae, dies illa, Solvet sæclum in favilla.

[The organ sounds.]

EVIL-SPIRIT

 Grim horror seizes thee! The trumpet sounds! The graves are shaken! And thy heart From ashy rest For torturing flames Anew created, Trembles into life!

MARGARET

 Would I were hence! It is as if the organ Choked my breath, As if the choir Melted my inmost heart!

CHORUS

Judex ergo cum sedebit, Quidquid latet adparebit, Nil inultum remanebit.

MARGARET

 I feel oppressed! The pillars of the wall Imprison me! The vaulted roof Weighs down upon me!—air!

EVIL-SPIRIT

 Wouldst hide thee? sin and shame Remain not hidden! Air! light! Woe's thee!

CHORUS

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus! Cum vix justus sit securus.

EVIL-SPIRIT

 The glorified their faces turn Away from thee! Shudder the pure to reach Their hands to thee! Woe!

CHORUS

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus—

MARGARET

Neighbor! your smelling bottle!

[She swoons away.]

WALPURGIS-NIGHT

THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. DISTRICT OF SCHIERKE AND ELEND

FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES

MEPHISTOPHELES

A broomstick dost thou not at least desire?The roughest he-goat fain would I bestride,By this road from our goal we're still far wide.

FAUST

While fresh upon my legs, so long I naught require,Except this knotty staff. Beside,What boots it to abridge a pleasant way?Along the labyrinth of these vales to creep,Then scale these rocks, whence, in eternal spray,Adown the cliffs the silvery fountains leap:Such is the joy that seasons paths like these!Spring weaves already in the birchen trees;E'en the late pine-grove feels her quickening powers;Should she not work within these limbs of ours?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Naught of this genial influence do I know!Within me all is wintry. Frost and snowI should prefer my dismal path to bound.How sadly, yonder, with belated glowRises the ruddy moon's imperfect round,Shedding so faint a light, at every treadOne's sure to stumble 'gainst a rock or tree!An Ignis Fatuus I must call instead.Yonder one burning merrily, I see.Holla! my friend! may I request your light?Why should you flare away so uselessly?Be kind enough to show us up the height!

IGNIS FATUUS

Through reverence, I hope I may subdueThe lightness of my nature; true,Our course is but a zigzag one.

MEPHISTOPHELES

 Ho! ho!So men, forsooth, he thinks to imitate!Now, in the devil's name, for once go straight!Or out at once your flickering life I'll blow.

IGNIS FATUUS

That you are master here is obvious quite;To do your will, I'll cordially essay;Only reflect! The hill is magic-mad tonight;And if to show the path you choose a meteor's light,You must not wonder should we go astray.

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, IGNIS FATUUS (in alternate song)

 Through the dream and magic-sphere, As it seems, we now are speeding; Honor win, us rightly leading, That betimes we may appear In yon wide and desert region! Trees on trees, a stalwart legion, Swiftly past us are retreating, And the cliffs with lowly greeting; Rocks long-snouted, row on row, How they snort, and how they blow! Through the stones and heather springing, Brook and brooklet haste below; Hark the rustling! Hark the singing! Hearken to love's plaintive lays; Voices of those heavenly days— What we hope, and what we love! Like a tale of olden time, Echo's voice prolongs the chime. To-whit! To-who! It sounds more near; Plover, owl, and jay appear, All awake, around, above? Paunchy salamanders too Peer, long-limbed, the bushes through! And, like snakes, the roots of trees Coil themselves from rock and sand, Stretching many a wondrous band, Us to frighten, us to seize; From rude knots with life embued, Polyp-fangs abroad they spread, To snare the wanderer! 'Neath our tread, Mice, in myriads, thousand-hued, Through the heath and through the moss! And the fire-flies' glittering throng, Wildering escort, whirls along, Here and there, our path across. Tell me, stand we motionless, Or still forward do we press? All things round us whirl and fly, Rocks and trees make strange grimaces, Dazzling meteors change their places— How they puff and multiply!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Now grasp my doublet—we at lastA central peak have reached, which shows,If round a wondering glance we cast,How in the mountain Mammon glows.

FAUST

How through the chasms strangely gleams,A lurid light, like dawn's red glow,Pervading with its quivering beams,The gorges of the gulf below!Here vapors rise, there clouds float by,Here through the mist the light doth shine;Now, like a fount, it bursts on high,Meanders now, a slender line;Far reaching, with a hundred veins,Here through the valley see it glide;Here, where its force the gorge restrains,At once it scatters, far and wide;Anear, like showers of golden sandStrewn broadcast, sputter sparks of light:And mark yon rocky walls that standAblaze, in all their towering height!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Doth not Sir Mammon for this fêteGrandly illume his palace! ThouArt lucky to have seen it; now,The boisterous guests, I feel, are coming straight.

FAUST

How through the air the storm doth whirl!Upon my neck it strikes with sudden shock.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Cling to these ancient ribs of granite rock,Else to yon depths profound it you will hurl.A murky vapor thickens night.Hark! Through the woods the tempests roar!The owlets flit in wild affright.Hark! Splinter'd are the columns that upboreThe leafy palace, green for aye:The shivered branches whirr and sigh,Yawn the huge trunks with mighty groan,The roots, upriven, creak and moan!In fearful and entangled fall,One crashing ruin whelms them all,While through the desolate abyss,Sweeping the wreck-strewn precipice,The raging storm-blasts howl and hiss!Aloft strange voices dost thou hear?Distant now and now more near?Hark! the mountain ridge along,Streameth a raving magic-song!

WITCHES (in chorus)

 Now to the Brocken the witches hie, The stubble is yellow, the corn is green; Thither the gathering legions fly, And sitting aloft is Sir Urian seen: O'er stick and o'er stone they go whirling along, Witches and he-goats, a motley throng.

VOICES

 Alone old Baubo's coming now; She rides upon a farrow sow.

CHORUS

 Honor to her, to whom honor is due! Forward, Dame Baubo! Honor to you! A goodly sow and mother thereon, The whole witch chorus follows anon.

VOICE

Which way didst come?

VOICE

 O'er Ilsenstein!There I peep'd in an owlet's nest.With her broad eye she gazed in mine!

VOICE

Drive to the devil, thou hellish pest!Why ride so hard?

VOICE

 She has graz'd my side,Look at the wounds, how deep and how wide!

WITCHES (in chorus)

 The way is broad, the way is long; What mad pursuit! What tumult wild! Scratches the besom and sticks the prong; Crush'd is the mother, and stifled the child.

WIZARDS (half chorus)

 Like house-encumber'd snail we creep; While far ahead the women keep, For when to the devil's house we speed, By a thousand steps they take the lead.

THE OTHER HALF

 Not so, precisely do we view it; They with a thousand steps may do it; But let them hasten as they can, With one long bound 'tis clear'd by man.

VOICES (above)

Come with us, come with us from Felsensee.

VOICES (from below)

Aloft to you we would mount with glee!We wash, and free from all stain are we,Yet barren evermore must be!

BOTH CHORUSES

 The wind is hushed, the stars grow pale, The pensive moon her light doth veil; And whirling on, the magic choir Sputters forth sparks of drizzling fire.

VOICE (from below)

Stay! stay!

VOICE (from above)

 What voice of woeCalls from the cavern'd depths below?

VOICE (from below)

Take me with you! Oh take me too!Three centuries I climb in vain,And yet can ne'er the summit gain!To be with my kindred I am fain.

BOTH CHORUSES

 Broom and pitch-fork, goat and prong, Mounted on these we whirl along; Who vainly strives to climb tonight, Is evermore a luckless wight!

DEMI-WITCH (below)

I hobble after, many a day;Already the others are far away!No rest at home can I obtain—Here too my efforts are in vain!

CHORUS OF WITCHES

 Salve gives the witches strength to rise; A rag for a sail does well enough; A goodly ship is every trough; Tonight who flies not, never flies.

BOTH CHORUSES

 And when the topmost peak we round, Then alight ye on the ground; The heath's wide regions cover ye With your mad swarms of witchery!

[They let themselves down.]

MEPHISTOPHELES

They crowd and jostle, whirl and flutter!They whisper, babble, twirl, and splutter!They glimmer, sparkle, stink and flare—A true witch-element! Beware!Stick close! else we shall severed be.Where art thou?

FAUST (in the distance)

Here!

MEPHISTOPHELES

 Already, whirl'd so far away!The master then indeed I needs must play.Give ground! Squire Voland comes! Sweet folk, give ground!Here, doctor, grasp me! With a single boundLet us escape this ceaseless jar;Even for me too mad these people are.Hard by there shineth something with peculiar glare,Yon brake allureth me; it is not far;Come, come along with me! we'll slip in there.

FAUST

Spirit of contradiction! Lead! I'll follow straight!'Twas wisely done, however, to repairOn May-night to the Brocken, and when there,By our own choice ourselves to isolate!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Mark, of those flames the motley glare!A merry club assembles there.In a small circle one is not alone.

FAUST

I'd rather be above, though, I must own!Already fire and eddying smoke I view;The impetuous millions to the devil ride;Full many a riddle will be there untied.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ay! and full many a riddle tied anew.But let the great world rave and riot!Here will we house ourselves in quiet.A custom 'tis of ancient date,Our lesser worlds within the great world to create!Young witches there I see, naked and bare,And old ones, veil'd more prudently.For my sake only courteous be!The trouble small, the sport is rare.Of instruments I hear the cursed din—One must get used to it. Come in! come in!There's now no help for it. I'll step before,And introducing you as my good friend,Confer on you one obligation more.How say you now? 'Tis no such paltry room;Why only look, you scarce can see the end.A hundred fires in rows disperse the gloom;They dance, they talk, they cook, make love, and drink:Where could we find aught better, do you think?

FAUST

To introduce us, do you purpose hereAs devil or as wizard to appear?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Though I am wont indeed to strict incognito,Yet upon gala-days one must one's orders show.No garter have I to distinguish me,Nathless the cloven foot doth here give dignity.Seest thou yonder snail? Crawling this way she hies;With searching feelers, she, no doubt,Hath me already scented out;Here, even if I would, for me there's no disguise.From fire to fire, we'll saunter at our leisure,The gallant you, I'll cater for your pleasure.

(To a party seated round, some expiring embers)

Old gentleman, apart, why sit ye moping here?Ye in the midst should be of all this jovial cheer,Girt round with noise and youthful riot;At home one surely has enough of quiet.

GENERAL

In nations put his trust, who may,Whate'er for them one may have done;For with the people, as with women, theyHonor your rising stars alone!

MINISTER

Now all too far they wander from the right;I praise the good old ways, to them I hold,Then was the genuine age of gold,When we ourselves were foremost in men's sight.

PARVENU

Ne'er were we 'mong your dullards found,And what we ought not, that to do were fair;Yet now are all things turning round and round,When on firm basis we would them maintain.

AUTHOR

Who, as a rule, a treatise now would careTo read, of even moderate sense?As for the rising generation, ne'erHas youth displayed such arrogant pretense.

MEPHISTOPHELES (suddenly appearing very old)

Since for the last time I the Brocken scale,That folk are ripe for doomsday, now one sees;And just because my cask begins to fail,So the whole world is also on the lees.

HUCKSTER-WITCH

Stop, gentlemen, nor pass me by,Of wares I have a choice collection:Pray honor them with your inspection.Lose not this opportunity!Yet nothing in my booth you'll findWithout its counterpart on earth; there's naught,Which to the world, and to mankind,Hath not some direful mischief wrought.No dagger here, which hath not flow'd with blood,No chalice, whence, into some healthy frameHath not been poured hot poison's wasting flood.No trinket, but hath wrought some woman's shame,No weapon but hath cut some sacred tie,Or from behind hath stabb'd an enemy.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Gossip! For wares like these the time's gone by,What's done is past! what's past is done!With novelties your booth supply;Us novelties attract alone.

FAUST

May this wild scene my senses spare!This, may in truth be called a fair!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Upward the eddying concourse throng;Thinking to push, thyself art push'd along.

FAUST

Who's that, pray?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Mark her well! That's Lilith.

FAUST

Who?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Adam's first wife. Of her rich locks beware!That charm in which she's parallel'd by few,When in its toils a youth she doth ensnareHe will not soon escape, I promise you.

FAUST

There sit a pair, the old one with the young;Already they have bravely danced and sprung!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Here there is no repose today.Another dance begins; we'll join it, come away!

FAUST (dancing with the young one)

 Once a fair vision came to me; Therein I saw an apple-tree, Two beauteous apples charmed mine eyes; I climb'd forthwith to reach the prize.

THE FAIR ONE

 Apples still fondly ye desire, From paradise it hath been so. Feelings of joy my breast inspire That such too in my garden grow.

MEPHISTOPHELES (with the old one)