My peace is gone, My heart is sore, I find it never, And nevermore!
For him from the window I gaze, at home; For him and him only Abroad I
roam.
His lofty step, His
bearing high, The smile of his lip, The power of his eye,
His witching words, Their tones of bliss, His hand's fond
pressure And ah -
his kiss! My peace is gone, My heart is sore, I find it never, And nevermore.
My bosom aches To feel him near; Ah, could I clasp And fold him here!
Kiss him and kiss him Again would I, And on his kisses I fain would die.
Martha's Garden
Margaret and Faust
Margaret
Promise me, Henry!
Faust
What I can!
Margaret
How thy religion fares, I fain would hear. Thou art a good kind - hearted man,
Only that way not well - disposed, I fear.
Faust
Forbear, my child! Thou feelest thee I love; My heart, my blood I'd give, my
love to prove, And none would of their faith or church bereave.
Margaret
That's not enough, we must ourselves believe!
Faust
Must we?
Margaret
Ah, could I but thy soul inspire! Thou honourest not the sacraments, alas!
Faust
I honour them.
Margaret
But yet without desire; 'Tis long since thou hast been either to shrift or mass.
Dost thou believe in God?
Faust
My
darling, who dares say, Yes, I in God believe? Question or
priest or sage,
and they Seem, in the answer you receive, To mock the questioner.
Margaret
Then thou dost not believe?
Faust
Sweet one! my meaning do not misconceive! Him who dare name? And who
proclaim, Him I believe? Who that can feel, His heart can steel, To say: I
believe him not? The All - embracer, All - sustainer, Holds and sustains he not
Thee, me, himself? Lifts not the Heaven its dome above? Doth not the firm -
set earth beneath us lie? And
beamingtenderly with looks of love, Climb not
the
everlasting stars on high? Do we not gaze into each other's eyes? Nature's
impenetrable agencies, Are they not thronging on thy heart and brain,
Viewless, or
visible to
mortal ken, Around thee weaving their mysterious
chain? Fill
thence thy heart, how large soe'er it be; And in the feeling when
thou utterly art blest, Then call it, what thou wilt, Call it Bliss! Heart! Love!
God! I have no name for it! 'Tis feeling all; Name is but sound and smoke
Shrouding the glow of heaven.
Margaret
All this is
doubtless good and fair; Almost the same the
parson says, Only in
slightly different phrase.
Faust
Beneath Heaven's
sunshine, everywhere, This is the
utterance of the human
heart; Each in his language doth the like
impart; Then why not I in mine?
Margaret
What thus I hear Sounds plausible, yet I'm not reconciled; There's something
wrong about it; much I fear That thou art not a Christian.
Faust
My sweet child!
Margaret
Alas! it long hath
sorely troubled me, To see thee in such
odious company.
Faust
How so?
Margaret
The man who comes with thee, I hate, Yea, in my spirit's inmost depths
abhor; As his loath'd
visage, in my life before, Naught to my heart e'er gave a
pang so great.
Faust
Him fear not, my sweet love!
Margaret
His presence chills my blood. Towards all beside I have a kindly mood; Yet,
though I yearn to gaze on thee, I feel At sight of him strange
horror o'er me
steal; That he's a
villain my conviction's strong. May Heaven
forgive me, if I
do him wrong!
Faust
Yet such strange fellows in the world must be!
Margaret
I would not live with such an one as he. If for a moment he but enter here, He
looks around him with a mocking sneer, And
malice ill - conceal'd; That he
with
naught on earth can sympathize is clear Upon his brow 'tis legibly
revealed, That to his heart no living soul is dear. So blest I feel, within thine
arms, So warm and happy, - free from all alarms; And still my heart doth
close when he comes near.
Faust
Foreboding angel! check thy fear!
Margaret
It so o'ermasters me, that when, Or wheresoe'er, his step I hear, I almost
think, no more I love thee then. Besides, when he is near, I ne'er could pray.
This eats into my heart; with thee The same, my Henry, it must be.
Faust
This is antipathy!
Margaret
I must away.
Faust
For one brief hour then may I never rest, And heart to heart, and soul to soul
be pressed?
Margaret
Ah, if I slept alone! To - night The bolt I fain would leave undrawn for thee;
But then my mother's sleep is light, Were we surprised by her, ah me! Upon
the spot I should be dead.
Faust
Dear angel! there's no cause for dread. Here is a little phial, - if she take
Mixed in her drink three drops, 'twill steep Her nature in a deep and soothing
sleep.
Margaret
What do I not for thy dear sake! To her it will not
harmful prove?
Faust
Should I
advise it else, sweet love?
Margaret
I know not, dearest, when thy face I see, What doth my spirit to thy will
constrain; Already I have done so much for thee, That scarcely more to do
doth now remain.
(Exit.)
Mephistopheles (enters)
Mephistopheles
The monkey! Is she gone?
Faust
Again hast played the spy?
Mephistopheles
Of all that pass'd I'm well apprized, I heard the doctor catechised, And trust
he'll profit much thereby! Fain would the girls inquire indeed Touching their
lover's faith and creed, And whether pious in the good old way; They think, if
pliant there, us too he will obey.
Faust
Thou
monster, does not see that this Pure soul, possessed by
ardent love, Full
of the living faith, To her of bliss The only
pledge, must holy
anguish prove,
Holding the man she loves, fore - doomed to endless death!
Mephistopheles
Most sensual, supersensualist? The while A
damsel leads thee by the nose!
Faust
Of filth and fire abortion vile!
Mephistopheles
In physiognomy strange skill she shows; She in my presence feels she knows
not how; My mask it seems a
hidden sense reveals; That I'm a
genius she
must needs allow, That I'm the very devil perhaps she feels. So then to - night
Faust
What's that to you?
Mephistopheles
I've my
amusement in it too!
At The Well
Margaret and Bessy, with pitchers
Bessy
Of Barbara hast nothing heard?
Margaret
I
rarely go from home, - no, not a word.
Bessy
'Tis true: Sybilla told me so to - day! That comes of being proud, methinks;
She played the fool at last.
Margaret
How so?
Bessy
They say That two she feedeth when she eats and drinks.
Margaret
Alas!
Bessy
She's
rightly served, in sooth, How long she hung upon the youth! What
promenades, what jaunts there were, To dancing booth and village fair! The
first she everywhere must shine, He always treating her to
pastry and to wine
Of her good looks she was so vain, So shameless too, that to
retain His
presents, she did not
disdain; Sweet words and kisses came anon And then
the
virgin flower was gone.
Margaret
Poor thing!
Bessy
Forsooth dost pity her? At night, when at our wheels we sat, Abroad our
mothers ne'er would let us stir. Then with her lover she must chat, Or on the
bench or in the dusky walk, Thinking the hours too brief for their sweet talk;
Her proud head she will have to bow, And in white sheet do
penance now!
Margaret
But he will surely marry her?
Bessy
Not he! He won't be such a fool! a
gallant lad Like him, can roam o'er land
and sea, Besides, he's off.
Margaret
That is not fair!
Bessy
If she should get him, 'twere almost as bad! Her
myrtlewreath the boys
would tear; And then we girls would plagued her too, For we chopp'd straw
before her door would strew!
(Exit.)
Margaret (walking towards home)
How stoutly once I could inveigh, If a poor
maiden went
astray; Not words
enough my tongue could find, 'Gainst others' sin to speak my mind! Black as it
seemed, I blacken'd it still more, And
strove to make it blacker than before.
And did myself
securely bless Now my own
trespass doth appear! Yet ah! -
what urg'd me to transgress, God knows, it was so sweet, so dear!
Zwinger
Enclosure between the City - wall and the Gate.
(In the niche of the wall a devotional image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower
- pots before it)
Margaret (putting fresh flowers in the pots)
Ah, rich in sorrow, thou, Stoop thy
maternal brow, And mark with pitying eye
my
misery! The sword in thy pierced heart, Thou dost with bitter smart, Gaze
upwards on thy Son's death agony. To the dear God on high, Ascends thy
piteous sigh, Pleading for his and thy sore
misery. Ah, who can know The
torturing woe, The pangs that rack me to the bone? How my poor heart,
without
relief, Trembles and throbs, its yearning grief Thou knowest, thou
alone! Ah, wheresoe'er I go, With woe, with woe, with woe, My
anguish'd
breast is aching! When all alone I creep, I weep, I weep, I weep, Alas! my
heart is breaking! The flower-pots at my window Were wet with tears of