Let us, to the chapel wending,
Watch the sun’s last rays subside;
Let us ring, and prayerful bending,
In our father’s God confide!
Spacious ornamental garden; broad, straight canal. FAUST in extreme old age, walking about, meditating.
LYNCEUS, THE WARDER (through a speaking trumpet)
The sun sinks down, the ships belated
Rejoicing to the haven steer.
A stately galley, deeply freighted,
On the canal, now draweth near;
Her chequer’d flag the breeze caresses
The masts unbending bear the sails:
Thee now the grateful seaman blesses,
Thee at this moment Fortune hails.
[The bell rings on the downs.]
Accursed bell! Its clamor sending,
Like spiteful shot it wounds mine ear!
Before me lies my realm unending;
Vexation dogs me in the rear;
For I, these envious chimes still hearing,
Must at my narrow bounds repine;
The linden grove, brown but thence peering,
The moldering church, these are not mine.
Refreshment seek I, there repairing?
Another’s shadow chills my heart,
A thorn, nor foot nor vision sparing,—
O far from hence could I depart!
WARDER (as above)
How, wafted by the evening gales,
Blithely the painted galley sails;
On its swift course, how richly stored!
Chest, coffer, sack, are heaped aboard.
A splendid galley, richly and brilliantly laden with the
produce of foreign climes.
Here do we land,
Here are we now.
Hail to our lord;
Our patron, thou!
(They disembark. The goods are brought ashore.)
So have we proved our worth—content
If we our patron’s praises earn:
With but two ships abroad we went,
With twenty we to port return.
By our rich lading all may see
The great successes we have wrought.
Free ocean makes the spirit free:
There claims compunction ne’er a thought!
A rapid grip there needs alone;
A fish, a ship, on both we seize.
Of three if we the lordship own,
Straightway we hook a fourth with ease,
Then is the fifth in sorry plight—
Who hath the power, has still the right;
The What is asked for, not the How.
Else know I not the seaman’s art:
War, commerce, piracy, I trow,
A trinity, we may not part.
No thank and hail;
No hail and thank!
As were our cargo
Vile and rank!
His face one sees
The kingly wealth
Doth him displease!