the less successful parts of the poem; but I am sure that nothing less than the poet's feeling of full freedom to deal as he would with all parts of his subject would have made the poem I will not say

in its long-sustained elevation, but even in any one of its distinguishing features what it is; so that each single passage is, as it were, a symbol * of the whole each fragment expressive of the author's full mind, and in its degree exhibiting the creative spirit of the same living imagination felt alike through all. Nothing but the success of Goethe's perilous attempt would be felt as justifying it—but of that success I think I have a right to demand, as against the vague prejudices which in one way or another have possessed the English Public, that the admiration all but unbounded - of his own country should be regarded as evidence. I demand

* I use the word "symbol" in the sense in which it has been used by Mr. Coleridge. A symbol" always partakes of the reality which it renders intelligible.” — (First Lay Sermon, p. 37.) The passage from which I quote is one which, with reference to my present subject, I should not be justified in transcribing. Like every passage in the more serious works of that great and good man, it is one which, the more it is dwelt upon and received into the mind, the more important will it appear. The train of thought, in the passage to which I refer, is more fully exhibited in the " Aids to Reflection."

but a hearing for him; what the decision may be I have no right to predict still less to dictate.

It is curious enough, that, in Goethe's case, the offence is increased by that which, fairly considered, should be its apology. The imitation of the old "mystery," or "miracle-play," as Mr. Collier has taught us to call it - the earliest form of the modern European drama-was felt by the poet as giving him a licence — the privileges of which were more readily permitted in his own country, where representations of the kind were frequent in his childhood late very years still lingering and are probably not yet altogether discontinued. I have, for the purpose of preparing my reader for the licence which the poet claims, ventured to adopt the suggestion given in an article in the Quarterly Review *, and have called the poem a dramatic mystery-extending, perhaps, the meaning of the word beyond its precise limits. In the notes to this volume, the reader will find many instances

were in

Quarterly Review, vol. xxxiv. p. 137. Some extracts from this article are given in the notes to this volume; - but the reader who feels at all interested in the subject of Faust, or the more extensive one of the licence which the poet has a right to claim, will have reason to thank me for directing his attention to the article. I differ from the writer in his view of some passages, but the paper is replete with valuable information.

of the forms which Goethe has imitated as innocently, if I may say so, as our own Wartons and Percies-if in our day there be dignitaries of antiquarian tastes, might reprint the original poems. In the Adamo of Andreini - of which I regret that I have seen no more than the account drawn up by Hayley and Cowper - Cowper was not shocked by the impiety that scandalized Voltaire-I find in the list of characters, "God the Father, Choruses of Cherubims and Seraphims, with Beelzebub and the rest." The preface to this drama is preserved in Hayley's Life of Milton; and so little did the poet think of such criticism as we have now-a-days to deal with, that after very strikingly pointing out the difficulties of his subject, which he regards himself as having overcome, he adds, in that happy piety which ascribes the origin and the fulfilment of every worthy purpose to the fountain of every good gift; "Whence," says the good man, "I am inclined to believe that the favour of God, regarding rather my good intentions than my defects, (for as he often withdraws the heart of man from evil, so he conducts it insensibly to good,) gave direction to my hand, and completed my work. Wherefore to that alone I am indebted for the little grace that may be

found in the present labour; knowing, that as

Omnipotence is accustomed to produce wonders.

from the rude and unformed chaos, so from the still ruder chaos of my mind, it may have called forth this production, if not for any other purpose, yet to be sacred, and to make as it were a mute speak in my person, in despite of poverty of genius; as on the other hand it is accustomed to strike mute the most eloquent tongues when they employ themselves on subjects low and profane.”

I will suppose that I have so far engaged the sympathy of my reader, that he will listen to a few words relating to the translation itself. I have, as far as I could, endeavoured to communicate the effect produced on my own mind and ear by the poem which I have translated; hów far I have been successful I am, perhaps, less able than the most careless of my readers to determine. I have, as far as I could, truly expressed the meaning of the original; where I have failed, it has either been from mistaking what the author intended, or from want of skill in the use of my own language. I have in no instance ventured to substitute any thing of my own for Goethe's, or to suppress what he has written. In so long a work, a phrase may be now and then varied, an accidental image supplied, a line added or omitted-seldom for any other reason than as one of those artifices of style, of which every writer, whether in prose or verse, now and

then avails himself, and which must be regarded as among the implied privileges of every person who has ever translated a sentence from one language into another.

To verbal fidelity I can, of course, make no claim; yet I have not wilfully deviated from it. I have not sought to represent my author's thoughts by equivalents as they are called; but if I may venture to describe what, after all, has been rather the result of accident than of any fixed purpose, I should say that I have always given a pretty accurate translation of the very words, now and then expanding the thought by the addition of a clause which does little more than express something more fully implied in the German than in such English phrases as occurred to me. In this way it is not unlikely that I may have sometimes been misled into exhibiting some things in fuller light than was my author's purpose - dwelling perhaps on some thought that a writer of more skill might present in fewer words. I can easily imagine too, that, not being familiar with the spoken language, I may have, in some instances, fallen into the mistake, which it would appear to me has deceived some of our discoverers in metaphysics, of looking for the thought rather in the etymology of the words which the author employs, than in the meaning which they have