VOICE (from within, dying away)

Henry!  Henry!

END OF PART I.

FAUST—­SELECTIONS FROM PART II (1832)

ACT THE FIRST

A PLEASING LANDSCAPE

FAUST, reclining upon flowery turf, restless, seeking sleep

TWILIGHT

Circle of spirits, hovering, flit around;—­Graceful, tiny forms.

ARIEL

Song, accompanied by AEolian harps When, in vernal showers descending, Blossoms gently veil the earth, When the fields’ green wealth, up-tending, Gleams on all of mortal birth; Tiny elves, where help availeth, Large of heart, there fly apace; Pity they whom grief assaileth, Be he holy, be he base.

Ye round this head on airy wing careering,
Attend, in noble Elfin guise appearing;
Assuage the cruel strife that rends his heart,
The burning shaft remove of keen remorse,
From rankling horror cleanse his inmost part: 
Four are the pauses of the nightly course;
Them, without rest, fill up with kindly art. 
And first his head upon cool pillow lay,
Then bathe ye him in dew from Lethe’s stream;
His limbs, cramp-stiffen’d, will more freely play,
If sleep-refreshed he wait morn’s wakening beam.

Perform the noblest Elfin-rite,
Restore ye him to the holy light!

CHORUS (singly, two or more, alternately and together)

 Softly when warm gales are stealing
 O’er the green-environed ground,
 Twilight sheddeth all-concealing
 Mists and balmy odors round: 
 Whispers low sweet peace to mortals,
 Rocks the heart to childlike rest,
 And of day-light shuts the portals
 To these eyes, with care oppressed. 
 Night hath now descended darkling,
 Holy star is linked to star;
 Sovereign fires, or faintly sparkling,
 Glitter near and shine afar;
 Glitter here lake-mirror’d, yonder
 Shine adown the clear night sky;
 Sealing bliss of perfect slumber,
 Reigns the moon’s full majesty.

 Now the hours are cancelled; sorrow,
 Happiness, have passed away: 
 Whole thou shalt be on the morrow! 
 Feel it!  Trust the new-born day! 
 Swell the hills, green grow the valleys,
 In the dusk ere breaks the morn;
 And in silvery wavelets dallies,
 With the wind, the ripening corn.

 Cherish hope, let naught appall thee! 
 Mark the East, with splendor dyed! 
 Slight the fetters that enthrall thee;
 Fling the shell of sleep aside! 
 Gird thee for the high endeavor;
 Shun the crowd’s ignoble ease! 
 Fails the noble spirit never,
 Wise to think, and prompt to seize.

[A tremendous tumult announces the uprising of the Sun.]