The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume I Part 96

CHORUS OF INSECTS

We welcome thy coming, Our patron of yore!

We're dancing and humming, And know thee once more.

Us singly, in silence, Hast planted, and lo!

By thousands, oh Father, We dance to and fro.

The rogue hides discreetly The bosom within; We looseskins fly rather Forth from the fur skin.

MEPHISTOPHELES

O'erjoyed I am my progeny to know!

We're sure to reap in time, if we but sow.

I shake the old fur-mantle as before, And here and there out flutters one or more.-- Above, around, hasten, beloved elves, In hundred thousand nooks to hide yourselves!

'Mid boxes there of by-gone time, Here in these age-embrowned scrolls, In broken potsherds, foul with grime, In yonder skulls' now eyeless holes!

Amid such rotten, mouldering life, Must foolish whims for aye be rife.

[_Slips into the fur mantle_.]

Come shroud my shoulders as of yore!

Today I'm princ.i.p.al once more; But useless 'tis, to bear the name: Where are the folk to recognize my claim?

[_He pulls the bell, which emits a shrill penetrating sound, at which the halls shake and the doors spring open._]

FAMULUS (_tottering up the long dark pa.s.sage_)

What a clamor! What a quaking!

Stairs are rocking, walls are shaking: Through the windows' quivering sheen, Are the stormful lightnings seen; Springs the ceiling,--thence, below, Lime and mortar rattling flow: And, though bolted fast, the door Is undone by magic power!

There, in Faust's old fleece bedight, Stands a giant,--dreadful sight!

At his glance, his beck, at me!

I could sink upon my knee.

Shall I fly, or shall I stay?

What will be my fate today?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Come hither, friend!--Your name is Nicodemus?

FAMULUS

Most honor'd Sir, such is my name.--Oremus!

MEPHISTOPHELES

That we'll omit!

FAMULUS

O joy, me you do not forget.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I know it well: old, and a student yet; My mossy friend, even a learned man Still studies on, because naught else he can: Thus a card-house each builds of medium height; The greatest spirit fails to build it quite.

Your master, though, that t.i.tle well may claim-- The n.o.ble Doctor Wagner, known to fame, First in the learned world! 'Tis he, they say, Who holds that world together; every day Of wisdom he augments the store!

Who crave omniscience, evermore In crowds upon his teaching wait; He from the rostrum shines alone; The keys doth like Saint Peter own, And doth of h.e.l.l and Heaven ope the gate; As before all he glows and sparkles, No fame, no glory but grows dim, Even the name of Faustus darkles!

Inventor there is none like him.

FAMULUS

Pardon, most honor'd Sir, excuse me, pray-- If I presume your utterance to gainsay-- This bears not on the question any way; A modest mind is his allotted share.

The disappearance, unexplained as yet, Of the great man, his mind doth sorely fret; Comfort from his return and health are still his prayer.

The chamber, as in Doctor Faustus' day, Maintains, untouched, its former state, And for its ancient lord doth wait.

Venture therein I scarcely may.

What now the aspect of the stars?-- Awe-struck the very walls appear; The door-posts quivered, sprang the bars-- Else you yourself could not have entered here.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Where then bestowed himself hath he?

Lead me to him! bring him to me!

FAMULUS

Alas! Too strict his prohibition, Scarce dare I, without his permission.

Months, on his mighty work intent, Hath he, in strict seclusion spent.

Most dainty 'mong your men of books, Like charcoal-burner now he looks, With face begrimed from ear to nose; His eyes are blear'd while fire he blows; Thus for the crisis still he longs; His music is the clang of tongs.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Admittance unto me deny?

To hasten his success, the man am I.

[_Exit_ FAMULUS. MEPHISTOPHELES _seats himself with a solemn air._]

Scarce have I ta'en my post, when lo!

Stirs from behind a guest, whom well I know; Of the most recent school, this time, is he, And quite unbounded will his daring be.

BACCALAUREUS (_storming along the pa.s.sage_)

Open find I door and gate!

Hope at last springs up elate, That the living shall no more Corpse-like rot, as heretofore, And, while breathing living breath, Waste and moulder as in death.

Here part.i.tion, screen, and wall Are sinking, bowing to their fall, And, unless we soon retreat, Wreck and ruin us will greet.

Me, though bold, nor soon afraid, To advance shall none persuade.

What shall I experience next?

Years ago, when sore perplexed, Came I not a freshman here, Full of anxious doubt and fear, On these gray-beards then relied, By their talk was edified?

What from musty tomes they drew, They lied to me; the things they knew Believed they not; with falsehood rife, Themselves and me they robbed of life.

How?--Yonder is the murky glare, There's one still sitting in the Chair--

Drawing near I wonder more-- Just as him I left of yore, There he sits, in furry gown, Wrapped in s.h.a.ggy fleece, the brown!

Then he clever seemed, indeed, Him as yet I could not read; Naught will it avail today; So have at him, straight-away!