Faust [part 1]. Translated Into English in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
MEPHISTOPHELES
Since Thou, O Lord, deign’st to approach again And ask us how we do, in manner kindest, And heretofore to meet myself wert fain, Among Thy menials, now, my face Thou findest. Pardon, this troop I cannot follow after With lofty speech, though by them scorned and spurned: My pathos certainly would move Thy laughter, If Thou hadst not all merriment unlearned. Of suns and worlds I’ve nothing to be quoted; How men torment themselves, is all I’ve noted. The little god o’ the world sticks to the same old way, And is as whimsical as on Creation’s day. Life somewhat better might content him, But for the gleam of heavenly light which Thou hast lent him: He calls it Reason—thence his power’s increased, To be far beastlier than any beast. Saving Thy Gracious Presence, he to me A long-legged grasshopper appears to be, That springing flies, and flying springs, And in the grass the same old ditty sings. Would he still lay among the grass he grows in! Each bit of dung he seeks, to stick his nose in. Hast thou, then, nothing more to mention? Com’st ever, thus, with ill intention? Find’st nothing right on earth, eternally? No, Lord! I find things, there, still bad as they can be. Man’s misery even to pity moves my nature; I’ve scarce the heart to plague the wretched creature.
Know’st Faust? The Doctor Faust? My servant, he! Forsooth! He serves you after strange devices: No earthly meat or drink the fool suffices: His spirit’s ferment far aspireth; Half conscious of his frenzied, crazed unrest, The fairest stars from Heaven he requireth, From Earth the highest raptures and the best, And all the Near and Far that he desireth Fails to subdue the tumult of his breast. Though still confused his service unto Me, I soon shall lead him to a clearer morning. Sees not the gardener, even while buds his tree, Both flower and fruit the future years adorning? What will you bet? There’s still a chance to gain him, If unto me full leave you give, Gently upon _my_ road to train him! As long as he on earth shall live, So long I make no prohibition. While Man’s desires and aspirations stir, He cannot choose but err. My thanks! I find the dead no acquisition, And never cared to have them in my keeping. I much prefer the cheeks where ruddy blood is leaping, And when a corpse approaches, close my house: It goes with me, as with the cat the mouse. Enough! What thou hast asked is granted. Turn off this spirit from his fountain-head; To trap him, let thy snares be planted, And him, with thee, be downward led; Then stand abashed, when thou art forced to say: A good man, through obscurest aspiration, Has still an instinct of the one true way. Agreed! But ’tis a short probation. About my bet I feel no trepidation. If I fulfill my expectation, You’ll let me triumph with a swelling breast: Dust shall he eat, and with a zest, As did a certain snake, my near relation.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.