By coward cession.-Nor was I alone, Nor am I now, nor shall I be alone;
And there was hope, and there may still be hope, For many suffrages among his vassals Hailed me their lord and king, and many still Are mine, and many more perchance shall be. Thus vanquished, though in fact victorious, I left his seat of empire, from mine eye Shooting forth poisonous lightning, while my words
With inauspicious thunderings shook Heaven, Proclaiming vengeance, public as my wrong, And imprecating on his prostrate slaves Rapine and death, and outrage. Then I sailed Over the mighty fabric of the world, A pirate ambushed in its pathless sands, A lynx crouched watchfully among its caves And craggy shores; and I have wandered over The expanse of these wide wildernesses In this great ship, whose bulk is now dissolved In the light breathings of the invisible wind, And which the sea has made a dustless ruin, Seeking ever a mountain, through whose forests I seek a man, whom I must now compel To keep his word with me. I came arrayed In tempest, and although my power could well Bridle the forest winds in their career, For other causes I forbore to soothe Their fury to Favonian gentleness;
I could and would not: (thus I wake in him [Aside. A love of magic art.) Let not this tempest, Nor the succeeding calm excite thy wonder; For by my art the sun would turn as pale As his weak sister with unwonted fear; And in my wisdom are the orbs of Heaven Written as in a record. I have pierced The flaming circles of their wondrous spheres, And know them as thou knowest every corner Of this dim spot. Let it not seem to thee That I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I work A charm over this waste and savage wood, This Babylon of crags and aged trees, Filling its leafy coverts with a horror
Thrilling and strange? I am the friendless guest Of these wild oaks and pines-and as from thee I have received the hospitality
Of this rude place, I offer thee the fruit Of years of toil in recompense; whate'er Thy wildest dream presented to thy thought As object of desire, that shall be thine.
And thenceforth shall so firm an amity "Twixt thou and me be, that neither fortune, The monstrous phantom which pursues success, That careful miser, that free prodigal, Who ever alternates with changeful hand Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor Time, That loadstar of the ages, to whose beam The winged years speed o'er the intervals Of their unequal revolutions; nor Heaven itself, whose beautiful bright stars Rule and adorn the world, can ever make The least division between thee and me, Since now I find a refuge in thy favour.
'Tis that enamoured nightingale Who gives me the reply:
He ever tells the same soft tale Of passion and of constancy To his mate, who rapt, and fond, Listening sits, a bough beyond.
Be silent, Nightingale !-No more Make me think, in hearing thee Thus tenderly thy love deplore, If a bird can feel his so,
What a man would feel for me. And, voluptuous vine, O thou
Who seekest most when least pursuing,—
To the trunk thou interlacest Art the verdure which embracest, And the weight which is its ruin,— No more, with green embraces, vine, Make me think on what thou lovest,- For whilst thou thus thy boughs entwine, I fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist, How arms might be entangled too.
Light-enchanted sunflower, thou Who gazest ever true and tender On the sun's revolving splendour, Follow not his faithless glance With thy faded countenance, Nor teach my beating heart to fear, If leaves can mourn without a tear, How eyes must weep! O Nightingale, Cease from thy enamoured tale,— Leafy vine, unwreath thy bower, Restless sunflower, cease to move,- Or tell me all, what poisonous power Ye use against me.-
It cannot be! Whom have I ever loved! Trophies of my oblivion and disdain, Floro and Lelio did I not reject?
[She becomes troubled at the name of CYPRIAN. Did I not requite him
With such severity, that he has fled Where none has ever heard of him again?- Alas! I now begin to fear that this
May be the occasion whence desire grows bold, As if there were no danger. From the moment That I pronounced to my own listening heart, Cyprian is absent, O miserable me! I know not what I feel!
Come, where a pleasure waits thee.
Appeal to Heaven against thee! so that Heaven May scatter thy delusions, and the blot Upon my fame vanish in idle thought, Even as flame dies in the envious air, And as the flow'ret wanes at morning frost, And thou shouldst never-But, alas! to whom Do I still speak ?-Did not a man but now Stand here before me?-No, I am alone, And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly? Or can the heated mind engender shapes From its own fear? Some terrible and strange Peril is near. Lisander! father! lord Livia!-
Enter LISANDER and LIVIA,
"Tis impossible; the doors Which led to this apartment were all locked. LIVIA (aside.)
I dare say it was Moscon whom she saw For he was locked up in my room.
Have been some image of thy phantasy. Such melancholy as thou feedest is Skilful in forming such in the vain air Out of the motes and atoms of the day.
My master's in the right.
Oh, would it were Delusion! but I fear some greater ill. I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom My heart was torn in fragments; ay, Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame; So potent was the charm, that had not God Shielded my humble innocence from wrong, I should have sought my sorrow and my she With willing steps.-Livia, quick, bring my cloak, For I must seek refuge from these extremes Even in the temple of the highest God Which secretly the faithful worship.
JUSTINA (putting on her cloak.) In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I Quench the consuming fire in which I burn, Wasting away!
When I once see them safe out of the house, I shall breathe freely.
FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE.
The LORD and the Host of Heaven.
As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enough To interest thyself in our affairs-
And ask, "How goes it with you there below?" And as indulgently at other times
Thou tookedst not my visits in ill part,
Thou seest me here once more among thy household. Though I should scandalize this company, You will excuse me if I do not talk
In the high style which they think fashionable; My pathos certainly would make you laugh too, Had you not long since given over laughing. Nothing know I to say of suns and worlds; I observe only how men plague themselves;— The little god o' the world keeps the same stamp. As wonderful as on creation's day :- A little better would he live, hadst thou Not given him a glimpse of Heaven's light Which he calls reason, and employs it only To live more beastily than any beast.
And swift, and inconceivably swift The adornment of earth winds itself And exchanges Paradise-clearness With deep dreadful night.
The sea foams in broad waves
From its deep bottom up to the rocks,
And rocks and sea are torn on together In the eternal swift course of the spheres.
And storms roar in emulation
From sea to land, from land to sea, And make, raging, a chain Of deepest operation round about. There flames a flashing destruction Before the path of the thunderbolt. But thy servants, Lord, revere The gentle alternations of thy day.
Thy countenance gives the Angels strength, Though none can comprehend thee:
And all thy lofty works
Are excellent as at the first day.
Such is the literal translation of this astonishing Chorus; it is impossible to represent in another language the melody of the versification; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised to find a caput mortuum.-Author's Note.
I am not in much doubt about my bet, And, if I lose, then 'tis your turn to crow; Enjoy your triumph then with a full breast. Ay; dust shall he devour, and that with pleasure, Like my old paramour, the famous Snake.
Pray come here when it suits you; for I never Had much dislike for people of your sort. And, among all the Spirits who rebelled, The knave was ever the least tedious to me. The active spirit of man soon sleeps, and soon He seeks unbroken quiet; therefore I Have given him the Devil for a companion, Who may provoke him to some sort of work, And must create for ever.-But ye, pure Children of God, enjoy eternal beauty;— Let that which ever operates and lives Clasp you within the limits of its love; And seize with sweet and melancholy thoughts The floating phantoms of its loveliness.
[Heaven closes; the Archangels exeunt.
MEPHISTOPHELES.
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