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Faust; a Tragedy.  Johann Wolfgang Goethe
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Theatre manager.
Here, for once, we rest, to-day,
Heirs of Mieding's glory.
All the scenery we display--
Damp vale and mountain hoary!

To make the wedding a golden one,
Must fifty years expire;
But when once the strife is done,
I prize the gold the higher.

Spirits, if my good ye mean,
Now let all wrongs be righted;
For to-day your king and queen
Are once again united.

Once let Puck coming whirling round,
And set his foot to whisking,
Hundreds with him throng the ground,
Frolicking and frisking.

Ariel awakes the song
With many a heavenly measure;
Fools not few he draws along,
But fair ones hear with pleasure.

Spouses who your feuds would smother,
Take from us a moral!
Two who wish to love each other,
Need only first to quarrel.

If she pouts and he looks grim,
Take them both together,
To the north pole carry him,
And off with her to t'other.

Orchestra Tutti.

Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, these,
And kin in all conditions,
Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees,
We take for our musicians!

See, the Bagpipe comes! fall back!
Soap-bubble's name he owneth.
How the Schnecke-schnicke-schnack
Through his snub-nose droneth!
Spirit that is just shaping itself.
Spider-foot, toad's-belly, too,
Give the child, and winglet!
'Tis no animalcule, true,
But a poetic thinglet.

A pair of lovers.
Little step and lofty bound
Through honey-dew and flowers;
Well thou trippest o'er the ground,
But soarst not o'er the bowers.

Curious traveller.
This must be masquerade!
How odd!
My very eyes believe I?
Oberon, the beauteous God
Here, to-night perceive I!

Neither claws, nor tail I see!
And yet, without a cavil,
Just as "the Gods of Greece" were, he
Must also be a devil.

Northern artist.
What here I catch is, to be sure,
But sketchy recreation;
And yet for my Italian tour
'Tis timely preparation.

Bad luck has brought me here, I see!
The rioting grows louder.
And of the whole witch company,
There are but two, wear powder.

Young witch.
Powder becomes, like petticoat,
Your little, gray old woman:
Naked I sit upon my goat,
And show the untrimmed human.

To stand here jawing with you, we
Too much good-breeding cherish;
But young and tender though you be,
I hope you'll rot and perish.

Leader of the music.
Fly-snouts and gnat-noses, please,
Swarm not so round the naked!
Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees,
Keep time and don't forsake it!

Weathercock [towards one side].
Find better company, who can!
Here, brides attended duly!
There, bachelors, ranged man by man,
Most hopeful people truly!

Weathercock [towards the other side].
And if the ground don't open straight,
The crazy crew to swallow,
You'll see me, at a furious rate,
Jump down to hell's black hollow.

Xenia We are here as insects, ah!
Small, sharp nippers wielding,
Satan, as our cher papa,
Worthy honor yielding.

See how naпvely, there, the throng
Among themselves are jesting,
You'll hear them, I've no doubt, ere long,
Their good kind hearts protesting.

Apollo in this witches' group
Himself right gladly loses;
For truly I could lead this troop
Much easier than the muses.

Ci-devant genius of the age.
Right company will raise man up.
Come, grasp my skirt, Lord bless us!
The Blocksberg has a good broad top,
Like Germany's Parnassus.

Curious traveller.
Tell me who is that stiff man?
With what stiff step he travels!
He noses out whate'er he can.
"He scents the Jesuit devils."

In clear, and muddy water, too,
The long-billed gentleman fishes;
Our pious gentlemen we view
Fingering in devils' dishes.

Child of this world.
Yes, with the pious ones, 'tis clear,
"All's grist that comes to their mill;"
They build their tabernacles here,
On Blocksberg, as on Carmel.

Hark! a new choir salutes my ear!
I hear a distant drumming.
"Be not disturbed! 'mong reeds you hear
The one-toned bitterns bumming."

Dancing-master. How each his legs kicks up and flings,
Pulls foot as best he's able!
The clumsy hops, the crooked springs,
'Tis quite disreputable!

The scurvy pack, they hate, 'tis clear,
Like cats and dogs, each other.
Like Orpheus' lute, the bagpipe here
Binds beast to beast as brother.

You'll not scream down my reason, though,
By criticism's cavils.
The devil's something, that I know,
Else how could there be devils?

Ah, phantasy, for once thy sway
Is guilty of high treason.
If all I see is I, to-day,
'Tis plain I've lost my reason.

To me, of all life's woes and plagues,
Substance is most provoking,
For the first time I feel my legs
Beneath me almost rocking.

I'm overjoyed at being here,
And even among these rude ones;
For if bad spirits are, 'tis clear,
There also must be good ones.

Where'er they spy the flame they roam,
And think rich stores to rifle,
Here such as I are quite at home,
For Zweifel rhymes with Teufel.

Leader of the music.
Grass-hid cricket, frogs in trees,
You cursed dilettanti!
Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, peace!
Musicians you, right jaunty!

The Clever ones.
Sans-souci we call this band
Of merry ones that skip it;
Unable on our feet to stand,
Upon our heads we trip it.

The Bunglers.
Time was, we caught our tit-bits, too,
God help us now! that's done with!
We've danced our leathers entirely through,
And have only bare soles to run with.

From the dirty bog we come,
Whence we've just arisen:
Soon in the dance here, quite at home,
As gay young sparks we'll glisten.

Shooting star.
Trailing from the sky I shot,
Not a star there missed me:
Crooked up in this grassy spot,
Who to my legs will assist me?

The solid men.
Room there! room there! clear the ground!
Grass-blades well may fall so;
Spirits are we, but 'tis found
They have plump limbs also.

Heavy men! do not, I say,
Like elephants' calves go stumping:
Let the plumpest one to-day
Be Puck, the ever-jumping.

If the spirit gave, indeed,
If nature gave you, pinions,
Follow up my airy lead
To the rose-dominions!

Orchestra [pianissimo].
Gauzy mist and fleecy cloud
Sun and wind have banished.
Foliage rustles, reeds pipe loud,
All the show has vanished.