酷兔英语

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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


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