The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume I Part 50

Accurs'd be mammon, when with treasure He doth to daring deeds incite: Or when to steep the soul in pleasure, He spreads the couch of soft delight!

Curs'd be the grape's balsamic juice!

Accurs'd love's dream, of joys the first!

Accurs'd be hope! accurs'd be faith!

And more than all, be patience curs'd!

CHORUS OF SPIRITS (_invisible_)

Woe! woe!

Thou hast destroy'd The beautiful world With violent blow; 'Tis shiver'd! 'tis shatter'd!

The fragments abroad by a demiG.o.d scatter'd!

Now we sweep The wrecks into nothingness!

Fondly we weep The beauty that's gone!

Thou, 'mongst the sons of earth, Lofty and mighty one, Build it once more!

In thine own bosom the lost world restore!

Now with unclouded sense Enter a new career; Songs shall salute thine ear, Ne'er heard before!

MEPHISTOPHELES

My little ones these spirits be.

Hark! with shrewd intelligence, How they recommend to thee Action, and the joys of sense!

In the busy world to dwell, Fain they would allure thee hence For within this lonely cell, Stagnate sap of life and sense.

Forbear to trifle longer with thy grief, Which, vulture-like, consumes thee in this den.

The worst society is some relief, Making thee feel thyself a man with men.

Nathless, it is not meant, I trow, To thrust thee 'mid the vulgar throng.

I to the upper ranks do not belong; Yet if, by me companion'd, thou Thy steps through life forthwith wilt take, Upon the spot myself I'll make Thy comrade;--Should it suit thy need, I am thy servant, am thy slave indeed!

FAUST

And how must I thy services repay?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Thereto thou lengthen'd respite hast!

FAUST No! no!

The devil is an egoist I know And, for Heaven's sake, 'tis not his way Kindness to any one to show.

Let the condition plainly be exprest!

Such a domestic is a dangerous guest.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I'll pledge myself to be thy servant _here_, Still at thy back alert and prompt to be; But when together _yonder_ we appear, Then shalt thou do the same for me.

FAUST

But small concern I feel for yonder world; Hast thou this system into ruin hurl'd, Another may arise the void to fill.

This earth the fountain whence my pleasures flow, This sun doth daily shine upon my woe, And if this world I must forego, Let happen then,--what can and will.

I to this theme will close mine ears, If men hereafter hate and love, And if there be in yonder spheres A depth below or height above.

MEPHISTOPHELES

In this mood thou mayst venture it. But make The compact! I at once will undertake To charm thee with mine arts. I'll give thee more Than mortal eve hath e'er beheld before.

FAUST

What, sorry Devil, hast thou to bestow?

Was ever mortal spirit, in its high endeavor, Fathom'd by Being such as thou?

Yet food thou least which satisfieth never; Hast ruddy gold, that still doth flow Like restless quicksilver away; A game thou hast, at which none win who play-- A girl who would, with amorous eyen, E'en from my breast a neighbor snare, Lofty ambition's joy divine, That, meteor-like, dissolves in air.

Show me the fruit that, ere 'tis pluck'd, doth rot, And trees, whose verdure daily buds anew!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Such a commission scares me not; I can provide such treasures, it is true.

But, my good friend, a season will come round When on what's good we may regale in peace.

FAUST

If e'er upon my couch, stretched at my ease, I'm found, Then may my life that instant cease!

Me canst thou cheat with glozing wile Till self-reproach away I cast,-- Me with joy's lure canst thou beguile;-- Let that day be for me the last!

Be this our wager!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Settled!

FAUST

Sure and fast!

When to the moment I shall say, "Linger awhile! so fair thou art!"

Then mayst thou fetter me straightway, Then to the abyss will I depart!

Then may the solemn death-bell sound, Then from thy service thou art free, The index then may cease its round, And time be never more for me!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I shall remember: pause, ere 'tis too late.

FAUST

Thereto a perfect right hast thou.

My strength I do not rashly overrate.

Slave am I here, at any rate, If thine, or whose, it matters not, I trow.

MEPHISTOPHELES

At thine inaugural feast I will this day Attend, my duties to commence.--But one thing!-- Accidents may happen, hence A line or two in writing grant, I pray.

FAUST

A writing, Pedant! dost demand from me?