The kiss of heavenly love and praise A longing of surpassing sweetness drove Me forth, through forest, field, and plain to rove, Amid the thousand burning tears I shed. The sports of spring festivity, And with these feelings, memory now Melodious tones! continue yet! Sound on, thou sweet and heavenly strain! Chorus of Disciples. Now has the buried One-the blest- Of ever-growing bliss possest, But we, alas! on earth's cold breast, Must still remain in suffering here! In pain and sorrow, and distress Chorus of Angels. The Saviour Christ has risen From corruption and decay! The bonds that now your souls imprison, Go! let your DEEDS his praises prove, SCENE. BEFORE THE GATE. People of all descriptions pass out. Some Mechanics. Why that way? Others. Up to the Jagerhaus The First. Why, we mean to go But we Would rather to the mill, I trow! 1 Mech. Nay, I advise you let it be The Wasserhof! A Second. Not so for there The road is neither good nor fair! The Others. What shall you do? Will go just where the others lead ! Oh! I indeed A Fourth. Up, then, to Burgdorf-there you'll find The prettiest of girls-the best of beer And rows, too, of the primest kind ! Is A Fifth. Wild rascal! will you never fear? your skin itching, to a third Good beating then to be preferr'd? That path to-day I will not trace, For I've a horror of the place! 1 Serv. Girl. No! I shall go back to the city 2 Serv. Girl. Down by the poplars he is sure to be! Why? 1 Serv. Girl. Well! very little should I gain thereby; He dances not with any one but thee ! And what, pray, are your pleasures unto me ? 2 Serv. Girl. But I am certain that to-day, Alone he will not for us wait,— I tell you that I heard him say With him would come the curly-pate! 1 Schol. How the brave wenches step along! 1 Cit. Maiden. Who can those fine young men there, be? Look! 'tis a perfect shame to seeObserve with whom they laugh and talk; Genteelest company they shun, They even with the best might walk, Yet after those maid-servants run! 2 Schol. Stay! here's two ladies close behind, And neatly they are dress'd I swear, One is my neighbour-to my mind, 1 Schol. No! come along;-I hate to be That through the week the besom wields, When Sunday comes, is warm and bland, And aye the best caresses yields! 1 Townsman. The new-made burgomaster-I Must say does not act properly, Or to my taste-now in the chair, Beggar (sings). Kind gentlemen, and ladies fair, It too a harvest-day to me. 2 Towns. Nothing I know to me has greater charms Upon a Sunday or a holiday, Than a snug chat of war and war's alarms, 3 Towns. Yes, neighbour, yes! I little care Only at home pray let us go According to old custom still. Old Woman (to the Citizens' Daughters). How nicely dress'd- —so young, so fair, Who would not love your form and air! 1 Cit. Maiden. Come, Agatha! I'm very careful how With such old witches publicly I go, Though on Saint Andrew's eve, 'tis true I vow, She did my future lover to me show. 2 Cit. Maiden. And mine she show'd me in a glass, All soldier-like, with others too; Each way I look to see him pass, But yet his form can never view. Soldier (sings). Towns begirt with walls and moats, Summon'd by the trumpet's breath Thrills the rush-the life of life! Maiden's heart, and city's wall, 'Were made to yield, were made to fall; Bold is the attempt and hard, But as noble the reward; When we've held them each their day, Soldier-like, we march away! Enter FAUST and WAGNER. Faust. 'Neath the gay, quickening glance of Spring, Freed from their ice the streamlets flow, Those joys of hope the sunbeams bring Are budding in the vale below; |