Faust [part 1]. Translated Into English in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
MANAGER
The words you’ve bandied are sufficient; ’Tis deeds that I prefer to see: In compliments you’re both proficient, But might, the while, more useful be. What need to talk of Inspiration? ’Tis no companion of Delay. If Poetry be your vocation, Let Poetry your will obey! Full well you know what here is wanting; The crowd for strongest drink is panting, And such, forthwith, I’d have you brew. What’s left undone to-day, To-morrow will not do. Waste not a day in vain digression: With resolute, courageous trust Seize every possible impression, And make it firmly your possession; You’ll then work on, because you must. Upon our German stage, you know it, Each tries his hand at what he will; So, take of traps and scenes your fill, And all you find, be sure to show it! Use both the great and lesser heavenly light,— Squander the stars in any number, Beasts, birds, trees, rocks, and all such lumber, Fire, water, darkness, Day and Night! Thus, in our booth’s contracted sphere, The circle of Creation will appear, And move, as we deliberately impel, From Heaven, across the World, to Hell! [Illustration] [Illustration] THE LORD THE HEAVENLY HOST _Afterwards_ MEPHISTOPHELES (_The_ THREE ARCHANGELS _come forward_.) The sun-orb sings, in emulation, ’Mid brother-spheres, his ancient round: His path predestined through Creation He ends with step of thunder-sound. The angels from his visage splendid Draw power, whose measure none can say; The lofty works, uncomprehended, Are bright as on the earliest day.
And swift, and swift beyond conceiving, The splendor of the world goes round, Day’s Eden-brightness still relieving The awful Night’s intense profound: The ocean-tides in foam are breaking, Against the rocks’ deep bases hurled, And both, the spheric race partaking, Eternal, swift, are onward whirled! And rival storms abroad are surging From sea to land, from land to sea. A chain of deepest action forging Round all, in wrathful energy. There flames a desolation, blazing Before the Thunder’s crashing way: Yet, Lord, Thy messengers are praising The gentle movement of Thy Day. Though still by them uncomprehended, From these the angels draw their power, And all Thy works, sublime and splendid, Are bright as in Creation’s hour.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.