Emp. A second voice upon my ear,
That doubles every sentence, rings-64
The matter yet is far from clear,

And nothing like conviction brings.

Murmurs. What's that to us?

Chemist and quack

I've heard it oft

What wretched fuss

Old almanack.

I was too soft;

And should it come-'Tis all a hum.

Meph. Here stand they, all amazement ! staring round At the high discovery; gave no credit to it.

One has his story of a strange black hound;
One has a blind legend of a mandrake root. 30
Aye, let them laugh, or try to laugh it off;

Say 'tis a juggle-tricks of knaves or witches;
Yet all the sooner for their sneer and scoff-

Odd sudden tinglings come; limbs shake; foot itches.

One of Nature's never-ending
Secret wonders here you find;
From the lowest rings ascending,
Living traces upwards wind.

When and where, all over twitching,
Every limb feels sudden seizure,

Then and there keep digging, ditching;
There's the fiddler-there's the treasure!

Murmurs. My foot—I cannot move about ;
My arm is cramped . . . 'Tis only gout ;
And my big toe, it pains me so,

Emp.

From all these signs, my mind divines
That here the treasure is.

Come, no delay;

Escape for you is none. This very day

Shall bring these froth-lies of yours to the test.

Show us these chambers where these treasures rest. 370

I'll throw down sword and sceptre of command,

And labour with my own imperial hand;

Work heart and hand at the great enterprise :

But if all you are uttering be but lies

As I do fear-I'll send you straight to hell.

Meph. [aside]. Broad is the way from this, as I know

well.

[Alone.] I have not words enough truly to tell
Of all the treasure everywhere that lies:
None claiming it—none knowing of such prize.
The peasant with his plough who scrapes the sod,
Sees a gold crock beneath the upturned clod,
Crusted and clammy-blesses his good luck
In having on a lump of nitre struck;
And with delight and terror manifold,

Feels in his meagre hand, that scarce can hold
The treasure, rouleaus of gold-actual gold.
Down to what clefts-through what drear passages
Must he who knows of hidden treasure press

On the verge of the under-world! What vaults to be
Blown up !—what cellars, well secured: the sun
For ages has not seen them open thrown!
There golden salvers, goblets, beakers fair—
All for the sage-and ruby cups are there.
And, should he wish to use them-plenty of
Good old wine, too-I warrant you true stuff.
And you may credit me-I know it well-
The wood casks all are dust; and, strange to tell,
The wine makes new ones of its own old crust.
And such wine-'tis not only gems and gold,
But the essential spirit of noblest wine
That night and horrors here imprisoned hold.
Here doth the Sage his search untired pursue.
Day has no light whereby deep truth to see,
In darkness is the home of Mystery.

Emp. Darkness and Mystery I leave to thee.
What's good for anything will dare the day.
At night your rascal can skulk out of view-
When every cow is black and all cats grey.
Handle the plough, then; and let us behold
Your share turn up these pans and pots of gold.
Meph. Take spade and hoe yourself. Throw off all

state:

The labour of the peasant 'tis makes great.
A herd of golden calves shall from the soil
Start up—of earnest will and ardent toil
Instant reward! Enraptured then you may
Adorn yourself-adorn your lady gay.
Jewels in the imperial diadem

Add splendour to the monarch; the rich gem

Makes beauty lovelier in the coloured play

Of light.

Emp. [impatiently]. Quick! quick! how long, how long, will you delay ?

Ast. [Meph. prompting]. Sire! moderate this fervour of desire.

Best now the merry masquerade to act,

And end it. Double purposes distract.

Then through the above, in self-communion learn,
The under to deserve, and so to earn,

Who seeks for goodness, should himself be good;
For cheerfulness, should calm his fevered blood.
Tread hard the ripe grapes, if thy wish be wine;
If miracles, increasing faith be thine! (#g

Emp. Well then! Ash Wednesday will, I trust, uphold The promises you're giving me of gold.

I never did so long for Lent.

The Astrologer's advice is, after all,
The best; and so in merriment

Let the interval be spent.

We'll have our ball, whate'er befall,

And a gay time of carnival.

[Trumpets. Exeunt

Meph. [to the audience]. You never can get fools to

understand

How luck and merit still go hand in hand: yo
Your born fool never yet was Fortune's prizeman.

The stone of the philosopher,

In such hands, no great treasure were

The wise man's talisman minus the wise man.

117

III

MASQUERADE

A spacious Hall, with Side-chambers adorned and prepared for a Masquerade

Characters Introduced.-GARDEN-GIRLS, GARDENER, MOTHER and DaughTER, WOOD-CUTTERS, &C. PULCHINELLOES, PARASITES, DRUNKARD, SATIRICAL POET, THE GRACES, THE FATES, THE FURIES, HOPE, FEAR, PRUDENCE, ZOÏLO-THERSITES, BOY CHARIOTEER, PLUTUS, STARVELING, WOMEN, FAUNS, SATYRS, GNOMES, GIANTS, NYMPHS, PAN

Enter HERALD

Herald. Fancy not that our scene is laid,
Or that to-night our play is played,
In the drear bounds of German grounds-
Of dead men's dances, devilry-

Court fools and Gothic revelry :
Ours is a cheerful masquerade.

Feel yourselves now in an Italian home;
And that the Emperor, on his way to Rome,
For his advantage, and for your delight,
Hath crossed the high Alps, and is lord to-day
Of a new kingdom, beautiful and gay;
Having already in himself full might,
Has sued the holy slipper for full right;
Come for himself a brilliant crown to gain-
The cap and bells have followed in his train,
And we are all born as it were again;
Put on the cap of folly, and are in it
Such paragons of wisdom for the minute.
A clever fellow's comfortable plan

IS,

66

draw it cosily o'er head and ears,

And play the fool as little as you can."
A prudent course; the world in a few years
Is pretty sure of teaching any man.

They come in troops, they form in groups,
And into knots the masses sever,
And in and out they move about,
And out and in again they range.
For ever changing, yet no change,
Its hundred thousand fooleries,

The world's the world! 'Twas-'twill be-'tis
The World-the same one Fool for ever.

Enter GARDEN-GIRLS, some adorned with artificial flowers; some with bouquets in their hands

Garden-girls [Song, accompanied by mandolins].

We, to-night, to win your favour,
Trick us out in masquerade;

Young girls, that our way from Florence
With the German Court have made.

O'er our dusky tresses glisten
Roses from no common bowers;
Threads of silk, and silken laces,
Shape we into mimic flowers.

Ours is sure a happy service :
Waking at our touch appear

Buds that have no fear of winter—
Flowers that blossom through the year.

Divers-coloured shreds arranging,

Hue and hue symmetrical ;

Worthless each, yet, thus united,
Feel you not the charm of all.

Garden-girls, with neatness dress we,

Ornamentally in part;

Woman's love of graceful Nature
Blends so gracefully with Art.

Herald [to the GARDEN-GIRLS]. Let us see the laden baskets,

1