Quench the consuming fire in which I burn,

Wasting away!

Lisander.

And I will go with thee.

Livia. When I once see them safe out of the house,

I shall breathe freely.

Justina.

So do I confide

Let us go.

In thy just favour, Heaven!

Lisander.

Justina. Thine is the cause, great God! Turn, for my sake And for thine own, mercifully to me!

SCENES FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE.

PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN.

The LORD and the Host of Heaven,

Enter Three Archangels.

RAPHAEL.

THE sun makes music as of old
Amid the rival spheres of Heaven,
On its predestined circle rolled

With thunder speed: the Angels even
Draw strength from gazing on its glance,
Though none its meaning fathom may ;-
The world's unwithered countenance
Is bright as at creation's day.

GABRIEL.

And swift and swift, with rapid lightness,
The adorned Earth spins silently,
Alternating Elysian brightness

With deep and dreadful night; the sea
Foams in broad billows from the deep

Up to the rocks; and rocks and ocean,
Onward, with spheres which never sleep,
Are hurried in eternal motion.

MICHAEL

And tempests in contention roar
From land to sea, from sea to land;
And, raging, weave a chain of power
Which girds the earth as with a band,
A flashing desolation there

Flames before the thunder's way;

But thy servants, Lord, revere

The gentle changes of thy day.

CHORUS OF THE THREE.

The Angels draw strength from thy glance,
Though no one comprehend thee may :-
Thy world's unwithered countenance

Is bright as on creation's day.

Enter MEPHISTOPHELES.

Mephistopheles. As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enough To interest thyself in our affairs

And ask, "How goes it with you there below?"

And as indulgently at other times

Thou tookedst not my visits in ill part,

Thou seest me here once more among thy household.
Though I should scandalize this company,

You will excuse me if I do not talk

In the high style which they think fashionable;
My pathos certainly would make you laugh too,
Had you not long since given over laughing.
Nothing know I to say of suns and worlds;

* RAPHAEL.

The sun sounds, according to ancient custom.
In the song of emulation of his brother-spheres,
And its fore-written circle

Fulfils with a step of thunder.

Its countenance gives the Angels strength,

Though no one can fathom it.

The incredible high works

Are excellent as at the first day.

GABRIEL

And swift, and inconceivably swift

The adornment of earth winds itself round,

And exchanges Paradise-clearness

With deep dreadful night.

The sea foams in broad waves

From its deep bottom up to the rocks,

And rocks and sea are torn on together

In the eternal swift course of the spheres.

MICHAEL.

And storms roar in emulation

From sea to land, from land to sea,
And make, raging, a chain

Of deepest operation round about.
There flames a flashing destruction
Before the path of the thunderbolt.
But thy servants, Lord, revere

The gentle alternations of thy day.

CHORUS.

Thy countenance gives the Angels strength,
Though none can comprehend thee:

And all thy lofty works

Are excellent as at the first day.

Such is the literal translation of this astonishing Chorus; it is impossible to represent in another language the melody of the versification; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised to find a caput mortuum.-Author's Note.

SCENES FROM FAUST.

I observe only how men plague themselves;-
The little god o' the world keeps the same stamp,
As wonderful as on creation's day :-

:

A little better would he live, hadst thou
Not given him a glimpse of Heaven's light
Which he calls reason, and employs it only
To live more beastily than any beast.
With reverence to your Lordship be it spoken,
He's like one of those long-legged grasshoppers,
Who flits and jumps about, and sings for ever
The same old song i' the grass. There let him lie,
Burying his nose in every heap of dung.

The Lord. Have you no more to say? Do you come here
Always to scold, and cavil, and complain?

Seems nothing ever right to you on earth?

Mephistopheles. No, Lord; I find all there, as ever, bad at best. Even I am sorry for man's days of sorrow;

I could myself almost give up the pleasure

Of plaguing the poor things.

The Lord.

Mephistopheles. The Doctor?
The Lord.

Mephistopheles.

Knowest thou Faust?

Ay; my servant Faust.

In truth

He serves you in a fashion quite his own,
And the fool's meat and drink are not of earth.
His aspirations bear him on so far

That he is half aware of his own folly,

For he demands from Heaven its fairest star,
And from the earth the highest joy it bears;

Yet all things far, and all things near, are vain

To calm the deep emotions of his breast.

The Lord. Though he now serves me in a cloud of error,

I will soon lead him forth to the clear day.

When trees look green, full well the gardener knows

That fruits and blooms will deck the coming year.

Mephistopheles. What will you bet?-now I am sure of winning

Only observe you give me full permission

To lead him softly on my path.

The Lord.

As long

As he shall live upon the earth, so long
Is nothing unto thee forbidden.-Man
Must err till he has ceased to struggle.
Mephistopheles.

And that is all I ask; for willingly

Thanks.

I never make acquaintance with the dead.
The full fresh cheeks of youth are food for me,
And if a corpse knocks, I am not at home.

For I am like a cat-I like to play

A little with the mouse before I eat it.

The Lord. Well, well, it is permitted thee. Draw thou
His spirit from its springs; as thou find'st power,
Seize him and lead him on thy downward path;
And stand ashamed when failure teaches thee
That a good man, even in his darkest longings,
Is well aware of the right way.

Mephistopheles.

Well and good.

I am not in much doubt about my bet,

And, if I lose, then 'tis your turn to crow;
Enjoy your triumph then with a full breast.

Ay; dust shall he devour, and that with pleasure,

Like my old paramour, the famous Suake.

The Lord. Pray come here when it suits you; for I never
Had much dislike for people of your sort.
And, among all the Spirits who rebelled,
The knave was ever the least tedious to me.
The active spirit of man soon sleeps, and soon
He seeks unbroken quiet; therefore I
Have given him the Devil for a companion,
Who may provoke him to some sort of work,
And must create for ever.-But ye, pure
Children of God, enjoy eternal beauty ;-
Let that which ever operates and lives
Clasp you within the limits of its love;
And seize with sweet and melancholy thoughts

The floating phantoms of its loveliness.

[Heaven closes; the Archangels exeunt. Mephistopheles. From time to time I visit the old fellow,

And I take care to keep on good terms with him.

Civil enough is this same God Almighty,

To talk so freely with the Devil himself.

SCENE.-May Day Night.-The Hartz Mountain, a desolate Country.

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES.

Mephistopheles. Would you not like a broomstick? As for me

I wish I had a good stout ram to ride;

For we are still far from th' appointed place.

Faust. This knotted staff is help enough for me,

Whilst I feel fresh upon my legs. What good

Is there in making short a pleasant way

To creep along the labyrinths of the vales,

And climb those rocks, where ever-babbling springs
Precipitate themselves in waterfalls,

In the true sport that seasons such a path?
Already Spring kindles the birchen spray,
And the hoar pines already feel her breath:
Shall she not work also within our limbs?

Mephistopheles. Nothing of such an influence do I feel.

My body is all wintry, and I wish

The flowers upon our path were frost and snow.
But see, how melancholy rises now,

Dimly uplifting her belated beam,

The blank unwelcome round of the red moon,

And gives so bad a light, that every step

One stumbles 'gainst some crag. With your permission
I'll call an Ignis-fatuus to our aid:

I see one yonder burning jollily.

Halloo, my friend! may I request that you

Would favour us with your bright company?

Why should you blaze away there to no purpose?

Pray be so good as light us up this way.

Ignis-fatuus. With reverence be it spoken, I will try

To overcome the lightness of my nature;

Our course, you know, is generally zig-zag.

Mephistopheles. Ha, ha! your worship thinks you have to deal Go straight on in the Devil's name,

With men.

Or I shall puff your flickering life out.
Ignis-fatuus.

I see you are the master of the house;
I will accommodate myself to you.

Well,

Only consider that to-night this mountain

Is all-enchanted, and if Jack-a-lantern

Shows you his way, though you should miss your own,
You ought not to be too exact with him.

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, and IGNIS-FATUUS in alternate Chorus.

The limits of the sphere of dream,

The bounds of true and false, are past.

Lead us on, thou wandering Gleam,
Lead us onward far and fast,
To the wide, the desert waste.
But see, how swift advance and shift
Trees behind trees, row by row,-
How, clift by clift, rocks bend and lift
Their frowning foreheads as we go.
The giant-snouted crags, ho! ho!
How they snort, and how they blow!

Through the mossy sods and stones,
Stream and streamlet hurry down,
A rushing throng! A sound of song
Beneath the vault of Heaven is blown!
Sweet notes of love, the speaking tones
Of this bright day, sent down to say
That Paradise on Earth is known,
Resound around, beneath, above;
All we hope and all we love

Finds a voice in this blithe strain,
Which walkens hill and wood and rill,