Forging the instruments of his destruction
Even from his love and from his wisdom.—Oh!
Beloved carth, dear mother, in thy bosom
I seek a refuge from the monster who
Precipitates itself upon me.
cY Phi An.
Friend,
Collect thyself; and be the memory
Of thy late suffering, and thy greatest sorrow,
But as a shadow of the past,-for nothing
Beneath the circle of the moon, but flows
And changes, and can never know repose.
davion.
And who art thou, before whose feet my fate
IIas prostrated me?
cyprian.
One who, moved with pity,
Would soothe its stings.
noxion.
Oh! that can never be '
No solace can my lasting sorrows find.
cyphiaN,
Wherefore?
DAemion.
Because my happiness is lost.
Yet I lament what has long ceased to be
The object of desire or memory,
And my life is not life.
cy pri AN.
Now, since the fury
Of this earthquaking hurricane is still,
And the crystalline heaven has reassumed
its windless calm so quickly, that it seems
As if its heavy wrath had been awaken'd
Only to overwhelm that vessel,-speak,
Who art thou, and whence comest thou?
dotMon.
Far more
My coming hither cost, than thou hast seen
Or I can tell. Among my misadventures
This shipwreck is the least. Wilt thou hear?
cy Paian.

dow on. Since thou desirest, I will then unveil Myself to thee;—for in myself I am A world of happiness and misery; This I have lost, and that I must lament For ever. In my attributes I stood So high and so heroically great, In lineage so supreme, and with a genius which penetrated with a glance the world Beneath my feet, that, won by my high merit, A king—whom I may call the king of kings, Because all others tremble in their pride Before the terrors of his countenance, In his high palace roofd with brightest gems of living light—call them the stars of Heaven– Named me his counsellor. But the high praise Stung me with pride and envy, and I rose In mighty competition, to ascend His seat and place my foot triumphantly Upon his subject thrones. Chastised, I know The depth to which ambition falls; too mad Was the attempt, and yet more mad were now Repentance of the irrevocable deed :

Speak.

Therefore I chose this ruin with the glory
Of not to be subdued, before the shame
Of reconciling me with him who reigns
By coward cession.—Nor was I alone,
Nor am I now, nor shall I he alone;
And there was hope, and there may still be hope,
For many suffrages among his vassals
Hail'd me their lord and king, and many still
Are mine, and many more, perchance, shall be.
Thus vanquish'd, though in fact victorious,
I left his seat of empire, from mine eye
Shooting forth poisonous lightning, while my words
With inauspicious thunderings shook Heaven,
Proclaiming vengeance, public as my wrong,
And imprecating on his prostrate slaves
Itapine, and death, and outrage. Then I sail'd
Over the mighty fabric of the world,
A pirate ambush'd in its pathless sands,
A lynx crouch'd watchfully among its caves
And craggy shores; and I have wander'd over
The expanse of these wide wildernesses
In this great ship, whose bulk is now dissolved
In the light breathings of the invisible wind,
And which the sea has made a dustless ruin,
Seeking ever a mountain, through whose forests
I seek a man, whom I must now compel
To keep his word with me. I came array'd
In tempest; and although my power could well
Bridle the forest winds in their career,
For other causes I forbore to soothe
Their fury to Favonian gentleness,
I could and would not (thus I wake in him
A love of magic art). Let not this tempest,
Nor the succeeding calm excite thy wonder;
For by my art the sun would turn as pale
As his weak sister with unwonted fear.
And in my wisdom are the orbs of Heaven
Written as in a record; I have pierced
The flaming circles of their wondrous spheres,
And know them as thou knowest every corner
Of this dim spot. Let it not seem to thee
That I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I work
A charm over this waste and savage wood,
This Babylon of crags and aged trees,
Filling its leafy coverts with a horror
Thrilling and strange? I am the friendless guest
Of these wild oaks and pines—and as from thce
I have received the hospitality
Of this rude place, I offer thee the fruit
Of years of toil in recompense; whate'er
Thy wildest dream presented to thy thought
As object of desire, that shall be thine.

-

And thenceforth shall so firm an amity
'T wixt thou and me be, that neither fortune,
The monstrous phantom which pursues success,
That careful miser, that free prodigal,
Who ever alternates with changeful hand,
Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor Time,
That loadstar of the ages, to whose beam
The winged years speed o'er the intervals
Of their unequal revolutions; nor
Heaven itself, whose beautiful bright stars
Rule and adorn the world, can ever make
The least division between thee and me,
Since now I find a refuge in thy favour.

sce N E III. The Demon tempts Justina, who is a Christian.

to Mexion. Abyss of Hell! I call on thee, Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy! From thy prison-house set free The spirits of voluptuous death, That with their mighty breath They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts; Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes Be peopled from thy shadowy deep, Till her guiltless phantasy Full to overflowing be! And with sweetest harmony, Let birds, and flowers, and leaves, and all things move To love, only to love. Let nothing meet her eyes But signs of Love's soft victories; Let nothing meet her ear But sounds of love's sweet sorrow, So that from faith no succour she may borrow, But, guided by my spirit blind And in a magic snare entwined, She may now seek Cyprian. Begin, while I in silence bind My voice, when thy sweet song thou hast begun. A voice within N. What is the glory far above All else in human life? A LL. Love! love! [While these words are sung, the DeMon goes out at one door, and JustiNA enters at another. the Flast voice. There is no form in which the fire Of love its traces has impress'd not. Man lives far more in love's desire Than by life's breath, soon possess'd not. If all that lives must love or die, All shapes on earth, or sea, or sky, With one consent to Heaven cry That the glory far above All else in life is— ALL. Love! O love! Justin A. Thou melancholy thought which art So fluttering and so sweet, to thee When did I give the liberty Thus to afflict my heart? What is the cause of this new power Which doth my fever'd being move, Momently raging more and more? What subtle pain is kindled now Which from my heart doth overflow Into my senses?— * ALL. Love, O love! Justina. 'T is that enamour'd nightingale Who gives me the reply; He ever tells the same soft tale Of passion and of constancy

To his mate, who rapt and fond
Listening sits, a bough beyond.
He silent, Nightingale—no more
Make me think, in hearing thee
Thus tenderly thy love deplore,
If a bird can feel his so,
What a man would feel for me.
And, voluptuous vine, O thou
Who seekest most when least pursuing,-
To the trunk thou interlacest
Art the verdure which embracest,
And the weight which is its ruin,
No more, with green embraces, vine,
Make me think on what thou lovest,-
For whilst thou thus thy boughs entwine,
I fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist,
How arms might be entangled too.
Light-enchanted sunflower, thou
Who gazest ever true and tender
On the sun's revolving splendour !
Follow not his faithless glance
With thy faded countenance,
Nor teach my beating heart to fear,
If leaves can mourn without a tear,
How eyes must weep ! O Nightingale,
Cease from thy enamour'd tale,_
Leafy vine, unwreathe thy bower,
Restless sunflower, cease to move, -
Or tell me all, what poisonous Power
Ye use against me—
ALL.
Love! love! love!
Justin.A.
It cannot be!—Whom have I ever loved?
Trophies of my oblivion and disdain,
Floro and Lelio did I not reject?
And Cyprian?—
[she becomes troubled at the name of cyprian
Did I not requite him
With such severity, that he has fled
Where none has ever heard of him again?—
Alas! I now begin to fear that this
May be the occasion whence desire grows bold,
As if there were no danger. From the moment
That I pronounced to my own listening heart,
Cyprian is absent, O me miserable !
I know not what I feel! [More calmly
It must be pity,
To think that such a man, whom all the world
Admired, should be forgot by all the world,
And I the cause. [She again becomes troubled
And yet if it were pity,
Floro and Lelio might have equal share,
For they are both imprison'd for my sake.
Alas! what reasonings are these? it is
Enough I pity him, and that in vain,
Without this ceremonious subtlety.
And woe is me! I know not where to find him now,
Even should I seek him through this wide world.

Enter Daxton.

toxxion. Follow, and I will lead thee where he is.

justix A. And who art thou, who hast found entrance hither, Into my chamber through the doors and locks:

Call'd by the thought which tyrannizes thee
From his eternal dwelling; who this day
Is pledged to bear thee unto Cyprian.
Justina.
So shall thy promise fail. This agony
Of passion which afflicts my heart and soul
May sweep imagination in its storm; .
The will is firm.
da-Mon.
Already half is done
In the imagination of an act.
The sin incurr'd, the pleasure then remains;
Let not the will stop half-way on the road.
JustiN.A.
I will not be discouraged, nor despair,
Although I thought it, and although "t is true,
That thought is but a prelude to the deed:—
Thought is not in my power, but action is:
I will not move my foot to follow thee.
D-Mon.
But far a mightier wisdom than thine own
Exerts itself within thee, with such power
Compelling thee to that which it inclines
That it shall force thy step; how wilt thou then
Resist, Justina?

Justina. By my free-will. D-Mon. i Must force thy will. Justina.

It is invincible; It were not free if thou hadst power upon it. [He draws, but cannot move her.

D-MON. Come, where a pleasure waits thee.

Justina.

It were bought

Too dear.

D-Mon.

T will soothe thy heart to softest peace.

-ustina. T is dread captivity.

da-Mon.

"T is joy, "t is glory.

JUsTinA.
'T is shame, "t is torment,’t is despair.

D-MON.

But how

Canst thou defend thyself from that or me,
If my power drags thee onward?

Justina.

My defence
Consists in God.
[He vainly endeavours to force her, and at last releases
her.
DAEM on.
Woman, thou hast subdued me,

Only by not owning thyself subdued.
But since thou thus findest defence in God,
I will assume a feigned form, and thus
Make thee a victim of my baffled rage.
For I will mask a spirit in thy form,

JustiN.A.
i

Appeal to Heaven against thee; so that Heaven
May scatter thy delusions, and the blot
Upon my fame vanish in idle thought,
Even as flame dies in the envious air,
And as the floweret wanes at morning frost,
And thou shouldst never——But, alas! to whom
Do I still speak?—Did not a man but now
Stand here before me?—No, I am alone,
And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly?
Or can the heated mind engender shapes
From its own fear? Some terrible and strange
Peril is near. Lisander! father! lord

Livia!—
Enter Lisa NDER and Livia.
Lisandra.
0, my daughter! What?
LiVI.A.
What?
JustiNA.

Saw you A man go forth from my apartment now?— I scarce sustain myself! LiSANDr.R. A man here! rustina. Have you not seen him? Livi A. No, Lady. Justina. I saw him. Lisanders. "T is impossible; the doors Which led to this apartment were all lock'd. livia (aside). I dare say it was Moscon whom she saw, For he was lock'd up in my room. Lisan DEa. It must Have been some image of thy phantasy: Such melancholy as thou feedest, is Skilful in forming such in the vain air Out of the motes and atoms of the day. LIVIA. My master's in the right. Justina. O, would it were Delusion! but I fear some greater ill. I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom My heart were torn in fragments; ay, Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame; So potent was the charm, that had not God Shielded my humble innocence from wrong, I should have sought my sorrow and my shame With willing steps.--Livia, quick bring my cloak, For I must seek refuge from these extremes Even in the temple of the highest God Which secretly the faithful worship. LIVIA. Here.

A flashing desolation there,
Flames before the thunder's way;

But thy servants, Lord! revere
The gentle changes of thy day.

cBoats or rae rheto

The Angels draw strength from thy glance, Though no one comprehend thee may 5–

Thy world's unwither'd countenance ls bright as on creation's day."

Enter Mephis ropheles.

Mephistoph E. LEs. As thou, O Lord! once more art kind enough To interest thyself in our affairs— And ask, “How goes it with you there below 1. And as indulgently at other times Thou tookedst not my visits in ill part, Thou seest me here once more among thy household. Though I should scandalize this company, You will excuse me if I do not talk In the high style which they think fashionable; My pathos would certainly make you laugh too, Had you not long since given over laughing. Nothing know I to say of suns and worlds; I observe only how men plague themselves;— The little god o' the world keeps the same stamp, As wonderful as on creation's day:A little better would he live, hadst thou Not given him a glimpse of heaven's light, Which he calls reason, and employs it only To live more beastlily than any beast. With reverence to your Lordship be it spoken, He s like one of those long-legg'd grasshoppers, Who slits and jumps about, and sings for ever

' harmarl.

The sun sounds, according to ancient customa,
In the song of emulation of his brother-spberet.
And its fore-written circle
Fulfills with a step of thunder.
Its countenance gives the Angels atrongal,
Though no one can fathou it,
The incredible high works
Are excellent as at the first day.

-Atatitri.
And swift, and inconceivably swift
The adornment of earth winds itself round,
And exchanges Paradise-clearness
With deep dreadful night.
The sea foams in broad waves
From its deep bottom, up to the rocks,
And rocks and sea are torn on together
In the eternal swift course of the spheres.

x fun art.
And storms roar in emulation
From sea to land, from land to sea.
And make, raging, a chain
of deepest operation round about.
There flames a flashing destruction
Before the path of the thunderbolt.
But thy servants, Lord, revero
The gentle alternations of thy day.

citotitow.
Thy countenance gives the Angels strength.
Though none can comprehend twee:
And all thy lofty works
Are excellent as at the first day.

The same old song i' the grass. There let him lie,
Burying his nose in every heap of dung.
the Lond.
Have you no more to say? Do you come here
Always to scold, and cavil, and complain
Scens nothing ever right to you on earth?
Mephistoph E. Les.
No, Lord! I find all there, as ever, bad at best.
Even I am sorry for man's days of sorrow ;
I could myself almost give up the pleasure
Of plaguing the poor things.
the Lord.
Knowest thou Faust?
Mephistoph ELE5.
The Doctor 7
The Lord.
Ay; my servant Faust.
Mephistopheles.
In truth
He serves you in a fashion quite his own;
And the fool's meat and drink are not of earth.
His aspirations bear him on so far
That he is half aware of his own folly,
For he demands from Heaven its fairest star,
And from the earth the highest joy it bears:
Yet all things far, and all things near, are vain
To calm the deep emotions of his breast.
the loft d.
Though he now serves me in a cloud of error,
I will soon lead him forth to the clear day.
When trees look green, full well the gardener knows
That fruits and blooms will deck the coming year.
air phistoppi Eles.
What will you bet?—now I am sure of winning :
Only, observe you give me full permission
To lead him softly on my path.
The Load.
As long
As he shall live upon the earth, so long
Is nothing unto thee forbidden—Man
Must err till he has ceased to struggle.
MEPHistophe LEs.
Thanks.
And that is all I ask; for willingly
I never make acquaintance with the dead.
The full fresh cheeks of youth are food for me;
And if a corpse knocks, I am not at home.
For I am like a cat—I like to play
A little with the mouse before I eat it.
the Lond.
Well, well it is permitted thee. Draw thou
his spirit from its springs; as thou find'st power,
Seize him and lead him on thy downward path;
And stand ashamed when failure teaches thee
That a good man, even in his darkest longings,
Is well aware of the right way.
Mephistop tieles.
Well and good.
I am not in much doubt about my bet;
And if I lose, then t is your turn to crow;
Enjoy your triumph then with a full breast.
Ay! dust shall he devour, and that with pleasure,
Like my old paramour, the famous Snake.
The Lond.
Pray come here when it suits you; for I never
Ilad much dislike for people of your sort.

And, among all the Spirits who rebell'd,
The knave was ever the least tedious to me.
The active spirit of man soon sleeps, and soon
He seeks unbroken quiet; therefore I
Have given him the Devil for a companion,
Who may provoke him to some sort of work,
And must create for ever.—But ye, pure
Children of God, enjoy eternal beauty;-
Let that which ever operates and lives
Clasp you within the limits of its love;
And seize with sweet and melancholy thoughts
The floating phantoms of its loveliness.
[Heaven closes; the Archangels exeunt.
Mephistopheles.
From time to time I visit the old fellow,
And I take care to keep on good terms with him.
Civil enough is this same God Almighty,
To talk so freely with the Devil himself.

MAY-DAY NIGHT. Scene—The Hartz Mountain, a desolate Country. FAust, Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles. Would you not like a broomstick? As for me, I wish I had a good stout ram to ride; For we are still far from th' appointed place. Faust. This knotted staff is help enough for me, Whilst I feel fresh upon my legs. What good Is there in making short a pleasant way? To creep along the labyrinths of the vales, And climb those rocks, where ever-babbling springs Precipitate themselves in waterfalls, Is the true sport that seasons such a path. Already Spring kindles the birchen spray, And the hoar pines already feel her breath: Shall she not work also within our limbs Mephistopheles. Nothing of such an intluence do I feel: My body is all wintry, and I wish The flowers upon our path were frost and snow. But see, how melancholy rises now, Dimly uplifting her belated beam, The blank unwelcome round of the red moon, And tives so bad a light, that every step One stumbles 'gainst some crag. With your permission, I'll call an Ignis-fatuus to our aid; I see one yonder burning jollily. Halloo, my friend! may I request that you Would favour us with your bright company? Why should you blaze away there to no purpose? Pray be so good as light us up this way. 1GNIS-F ATU U.S. With reverence be it spoken, I will try To overcome the lightness of my nature: Our course, you know, is generally zig-zag. Mephistoph Eles. Ha, ha! your worship thinks you have to deal With men. Go straight on, in the Devil's name, Or I shall puff your flickering life out. IGNils-FATuus. Well, I see you are the master of the house; I will accommodate myself to you.