Faust’s Study.

Faust. [entering with the Poodle.] Now field and meadow lie behind me, Hushed ’neath the veil of deepest night, And thoughts of solemn seeming find me, Too holy for the garish light. Calm now the blood that wildly ran, Asleep the hand of lawless strife; Now wakes to life the love of man, The love of God now wakes to life.

Cease, poodle! why snuff’st and snifflest thou so, Running restless to and fro? Behind the stove there lie at rest, And take for bed my cushion the best! And as without, on our mountain-ramble, We joyed to see thy freakish gambol, So here, my hospitable care, A quiet guest, and welcome share.

When in our narrow cell confined, The friendly lamp begins to burn, Then clearer sees the thoughtful mind, With searching looks that inward turn. Bright Hope again within us beams, And Reason’s voice again is strong, We thirst for life’s untroubled streams, For the pure fount of life we long.

Quiet thee, poodle! it seems not well To break, with thy growling, the holy spell Of my soul’s music, that refuses All fellowship with bestial uses. Full well we know that the human brood, What they don’t understand condemn, And murmur in their peevish mood At things too fair and good for them; Belike the cur, as curs are they, Thus growls and snarls his bliss away.

But, alas! already I feel it well, No more may peace within this bosom dwell. Why must the stream so soon dry up, And I lie panting for the cup That mocks my lips? so often why Drink pleasure’s shallow fount, when scarce yet tasted, dry? Yet is this evil not without remeid; We long for heavenly food to feed Our heaven-born spirit, and the heart, now bent On things divine, to revelation turns, Which nowhere worthier or purer burns, Than here in our New Testament. I feel strange impulse in my soul The sacred volume to unroll, With honest purpose, once for all, The holy Greek Original Into my honest German to translate. [He opens the Bible and reads.] “In the beginning was the Word:” thus here The text stands written; but no clear Meaning shines here for me, and I must wait, A beggar at dark mystery’s gate, Lamed in the start of my career. The naked word I dare not prize so high, I must translate it differently, If by the Spirit I am rightly taught. “In the beginning of all things was Thought.” The first line let me ponder well, Lest my pen outstrip my sense; Is it Thought wherein doth dwell All-creative omnipotence? I change the phrase, and write—the course Of the great stream of things was shaped by Force. But even here, before I lift my pen, A voice of warning bids me try again. At length, at length, the Spirit helps my need, I write—“In the beginning was the Deed.”

Wilt thou keep thy dainty berth, Poodle, use a gentler mirth, Cease thy whimpering and howling, And keep for other place thy growling. Such a noisy inmate may Not my studious leisure cumber; You or I, without delay, Restless cur, must leave the chamber! Not willingly from thee I take The right of hospitality. But if thou wilt my quiet break, Seek other quarters—thou hast exit free. But what must I see? What vision strange Beyond the powers Of Nature’s range? Am I awake, or bound with a spell? How wondrously the brute doth swell! Long and broad Uprises he, In a form that no form Of a dog may be! What spectre brought I into the house? He stands already, with glaring eyes, And teeth in grinning ranks that rise, Large as a hippopotamus! O! I have thee now! For such half-brood of hell as thou The key of Solomon the wise Is surest spell to exorcise.

Spirits. [in the passage without] Brother spirits, have a care! One within is prisoned there! Follow him none!—for he doth quail Like a fox, trap-caught by the tail. But let us watch! Hover here, hover there, Up and down amid the air; For soon this sly old lynx of hell Will tear him free, and all be well. If we can by foul or fair, We will free him from the snare, And repay good service thus, Done by him oft-times for us.

Faust. First let the charm of the elements four The nature of the brute explore. Let the Salamander glow, Undene twine her crested wave, Silphe into ether flow, And Kobold vex him, drudging slave!

Whoso knows not The elements four, Their quality, And hidden power, In the magic art Hath he no part.

Spiring in flames glow Salamander! Rushing in waves flow Undene! Shine forth in meteor-beauty Silphe! Work thy domestic duty Incubus Incubus! Step forth and finish the spell. None of the four In the brute doth dwell. It lies quite still with elfish grinning there. It shall know a stronger charm, It shall shrink from sharper harm, When by a mightier name I swear.

Art thou a fugitive Urchin of hell? So yield thee at length To this holiest spell! Bend thee this sacred Emblem before, Which the powers of darkness Trembling adore.

Already swells he up with bristling hair.

Can’st thou read it, The holy sign, Reprobate spirit, The emblem divine? The unbegotten, Whom none can name, Moving and moulding The wide world’s frame, Yet nailed to the cross With a death of shame.

Now behind the stove he lies, And swells him up to an elephant’s size, And fills up all the space. He’ll melt into a cloud; not so! Down, I say, down, proud imp, and know Here, at thy master’s feet, thy place! In vain, in vain, thou seek’st to turn thee, With an holy flame I burn thee! Wait not the charm Of the triple-glowing light! Beware the harm If thou invite Upon thy head my spell of strongest might!

[The clouds vanish, and Mephistopheles comes forward from behind the fireplace, dressed like an itinerant scholar.