Quick by the forelock, as it flies ;
She never after lets it stray,
But as she must, she works away!
Our German stage, you are aware,

Lets all try what they feel inclined,
So that to-day you need not spare,

Scenes, drops, and wings,-all here The great and lesser lights of heaven

You've liberty to use from me, The fullest power is to you given,

The golden stars to squander free ; Fire, rock, and water, fail not here, No want of birds or beasts we fear! So, therefore, in this narrow space

Bid all creation's circle swell, And travel with considerate pace

you

From heaven, through the world, to hell.

find;

THE PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN.

The LORD. The HEAVENLY HOSTS. MEPHISTOPHELES behind.

The THREE ARCHANGELS come forward.

Raphael. In chorus with each kindred-star

The sun sends forth his ancient song,

And on his path, prescribed from far,
In thunder going rolls along ;

Though none may fathom them-their sight

Upon the angels power bestows,

Thy glorious works are now as bright

As on creation's day they rose.

Gabriel. Earth's pomp and beauty circle round,

Through light and shadow swiftly sped,

A glory as of Eden's ground

Wheels into darkness deep and dread;

The sea is foaming wild and high,

Around the rocks' eternal base,

And rock and sea revolving fly

For ever in the starry race.

Michael. Storms, in contending fury, break

From Land to Sea, from Sea to Land, And, as they sweep along, they wake

Around the earth a raging band;

The flash of desolation there

Precedes the thunder on its wayBut we, thy servants, LORD, revere The gentle going of thy day.

The Three. Though none may fathom thee-thy sight Upon thy angels power bestows;

Thy works sublime are now as bright,

As on creation's day they rose.

Meph. Since that thou dost, O Lord, approach once more,
And dost inquire how all things with us go,
And commonly hast seen me here before,—
'Tis therefore I am 'midst thy servants now;
Excuse me if I talk not fine,-

I could not, though all round me scorn;
At pathos, thou wouldst laugh, of mine,
Hadst thou not laughing long forborne !
Of Suns and Spheres, I cannot speak,
I nothing have to say of these ;
I only mark how all men wreak
Each on the other, miseries!
The earth's small god continues yet
As odd as on creation's day,

A better lot he would have met

But for thy gift-that heavenly ray
He Reason calls, and uses so, that he
Grows the most brutish of the brutes to be,
And-by your Grace's leave-appears to me

Like to those long-legg'd grasshoppers, that pass

A short-lived flight upon the wing,

But quickly fall again, and sing

The same old song amid the grass!

Well, were that all! that there the fall would close!

But in each filthy mess they thrust their nose!

The Lord. And hast thou nothing else to say ?
Still comest thou here but to complain?
Does not the world, where'er you stray,
Aught that goes well or right contain ?
Meph. No, Lord! for all things there below
Are, as of old, in wretched plight;
Men in their days of sorrow now

Some pity, e'en from me, excite ;

My very self-I could not curse

Or plague them, the poor wretches, worse.

The Lord. Say, now! is FAUSTUS known to thee?

Meph. The Doctor, Lord?

The Lord. My servant-HE.

Meph. In very truth, then, I must own

His service is most strangely shown!

The food on which his spirit dwells
Befits not with a child of clay,

The ferment of his soul impels

Him onward to the far-away;

E'en he himself can half discern

The madness that doth in him burn.

Of heaven-he asks each brightest star,

From earth-enjoyment's deepest zest,

Yet neither can the near nor far

Content his agitated breast.

The Lord. If now he serves in darkness and in doubt, Thence into light I soon will bring him out;

Whene'er the branches greenly shoot,

And budding to the spring appear,
The gardener knows that bloom and fruit
Will surely bless the coming year.
Meph. What will you wager? I will bet
That you shall still your servant lose,