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And shall I see-possess her?
MEPHISTOPHELES
No!
Unto a neighbor she must go, And meanwhile thou, alone, mayst glow With every hope of future pleasure, Breathing her atmosphere in fullest measure.
FAUST
Can we go thither?
MEPHISTOPHELES
'Tis too early yet.
FAUST
A gift for her I bid thee get!
[Exit.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Presents at once? That's good: he's certain to get at her!
Full many a pleasant place I know, And treasures, buried long ago: I must, perforce, look up the matter. [Exit.
VIII
EVENING A SMALL, NEATLY KEPT CHAMBER
MARGARET
(plaiting and binding up the braids of her hair)
I'd something give, could I but say Who was that gentleman, to-day.
Surely a gallant man was he, And of a n.o.ble family; And much could I in his face behold,- And he wouldn't, else, have been so bold!
[Exit MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST
MEPHISTOPHELES
Come in, but gently: follow me!
FAUST (after a moment's silence)
Leave me alone, I beg of thee!
MEPHISTOPHELES (prying about)
Not every girl keeps things so neat.
FAUST (looking around)
O welcome, twilight soft and sweet, That breathes throughout this hallowed shrine!
Sweet pain of love, bind thou with fetters fleet The heart that on the dew of hope must pine!
How all around a sense impresses Of quiet, order, and content!
This poverty what bounty blesses!
What bliss within this narrow den is pent!
(He throws himself into a leathern arm-chair near the bed.)
Receive me, thou, that in thine open arms Departed joy and pain wert wont to gather!
How oft the children, with their ruddy charms, Hung here, around this throne, where sat the father!
Perchance my love, amid the childish band, Grateful for gifts the Holy Christmas gave her, Here meekly kissed the grandsire's withered hand.
I feel, O maid! thy very soul Of order and content around me whisper,- Which leads thee with its motherly control, The cloth upon thy board bids smoothly thee unroll, The sand beneath thy feet makes whiter, crisper.
O dearest hand, to thee 'tis given To change this hut into a lower heaven!
And here!
(He lifts one of the bed-curtains.)
What sweetest thrill is in my blood!
Here could I spend whole hours, delaying: Here Nature shaped, as if in sportive playing, The angel blossom from the bud.
Here lay the child, with Life's warm essence The tender bosom filled and fair, And here was wrought, through holier, purer presence, The form diviner beings wear!
And I? What drew me here with power?
How deeply am I moved, this hour!
What seek I? Why so full my heart, and sore?
Miserable Faust! I know thee now no more.
Is there a magic vapor here?
I came, with l.u.s.t of instant pleasure, And lie dissolved in dreams of love's sweet leisure!
Are we the sport of every changeful atmosphere?
And if, this moment, came she in to me, How would I for the fault atonement render!
How small the giant lout would be, p.r.o.ne at her feet, relaxed and tender!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Be quick! I see her there, returning.
FAUST
Go! go! I never will retreat.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Here is a casket, not unmeet, Which elsewhere I have just been earning.
Here, set it in the press, with haste!
I swear, 'twill turn her head, to spy it: Some baubles I therein had placed, That you might win another by it.
True, child is child, and play is play.
