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

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 363 pages of information about The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01.

FAUST (awaking)

Am I once more deluded! must I deem
That thus the throng of spirits disappear? 
The devil’s presence—­was it but a dream? 
Hath but a poodle scap’d and left me here?

STUDY

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES

FAUST

A knock?  Come in!  Who now would break my rest?

MEPHISTOPHELES

’Tis I!

FAUST

 Come in!

MEPHISTOPHELES

 Thrice be the words express’d.

FAUST

Then I repeat, Come in!

MEPHISTOPHELES

’Tis well,
I hope that we shall soon agree! 
For now your fancies to expel,
Here, as a youth of high degree,
I come in gold-lac’d scarlet vest,
And stiff-silk mantle richly dress’d,
A cock’s gay feather for a plume,
A long and pointed rapier, too;
And briefly I would counsel you
To don at once the same costume,
And, free from trammels, speed away,
That what life is you may essay.

FAUST

In every garb I needs must feel oppress’d,
My heart to earth’s low cares a prey. 
Too old the trifler’s part to play,
Too young to live by no desire possess’d. 
What can the world to me afford? 
Renounce! renounce! is still the word;
This is the everlasting song
In every ear that ceaseless rings,
And which, alas, our whole life long,
Hoarsely each passing moment sings. 
But to new horror I awake each morn,
And I could weep hot tears, to see the sun
Dawn on another day, whose round forlorn
Accomplishes no wish of mine—­not one. 
Which still, with froward captiousness, impains
E’en the presentiment of every joy,
While low realities and paltry cares
The spirit’s fond imaginings destroy. 
Then must I too, when falls the veil of night,
Stretch’d on my pallet languish in despair. 
Appalling dreams my soul affright;
No rest vouchsafed me even there. 
The god, who throned within my breast resides,
Deep in my soul can stir the springs;
With sovereign sway my energies he guides,
He cannot move external things;
And so existence is to me a weight,
Death fondly I desire, and life I hate.

MEPHISTOPHELES

And yet, methinks, by most ’twill be confess’d
That Death is never quite a welcome guest.

FAUST

Happy the man around whose brow he binds
The bloodstain’d wreath in conquest’s dazzling hour;
Or whom, excited by the dance, he finds
Dissolv’d in bliss, in love’s delicious bower! 
O that before the lofty spirit’s might,
Enraptured, I had rendered up my soul!

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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