Faust [part 1]. Translated Into English in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
VALENTINE
In this game let our Lord God be! What’s done’s already done, alas! What follows it, must come to pass. With one begin’st thou secretly, Then soon will others come to thee, And when a dozen thee have known, Thou’rt also free to all the town. When Shame is born and first appears, She is in secret brought to light, And then they draw the veil of night Over her head and ears; Her life, in fact, they’re loath to spare her. But let her growth and strength display, She walks abroad unveiled by day, Yet is not grown a whit the fairer. The uglier she is to sight, The more she seeks the day’s broad light. The time I verily can discern When all the honest folk will turn From thee, thou jade! and seek protection As from a corpse that breeds infection. Thy guilty heart shall then dismay thee. When they but look thee in the face:— Shalt not in a golden chain array thee, Nor at the altar take thy place! Shalt not, in lace and ribbons flowing, Make merry when the dance is going! But in some corner, woe betide thee! Among the beggars and cripples hide thee; And so, though even God forgive, On earth a damned existence live! Commend your soul to God for pardon, That you your heart with slander harden!
Thou pimp most infamous, be still! Could I thy withered body kill, ’Twould bring, for all my sinful pleasure, Forgiveness in the richest measure. My brother! This is Hell’s own pain! I tell thee, from thy tears refrain! When thou from honor didst depart It stabbed me to the very heart. Now through the slumber of the grave I go to God as a soldier brave. (_Dies_.) SERVICE, ORGAN _and_ ANTHEM. (MARGARET _among much people: the_ EVIL SPIRIT _behind_ MARGARET.) HOW otherwise was it, Margaret, When thou, still innocent, Here to the altar cam’st, And from the worn and fingered book Thy prayers didst prattle, Half sport of childhood, Half God within thee! Margaret! Where tends thy thought? Within thy bosom What hidden crime? Pray’st thou for mercy on thy mother’s soul, That fell asleep to long, long torment, and through thee? Upon thy threshold whose the blood? And stirreth not and quickens Something beneath thy heart, Thy life disquieting With most foreboding presence? Woe! woe! Would I were free from the thoughts That cross me, drawing hither and thither Despite me! _Diesira, dies illa, Solvet soeclum in favilla_! _(Sound of the organ_.) Wrath takes thee! The trumpet peals! The graves tremble! And thy heart From ashy rest To fiery torments Now again requickened, Throbs to life! Would I were forth! I feel as if the organ here My breath takes from me, My very heart Dissolved by the anthem!
_Judex ergo cum sedebit, Quidquid latet, ad parebit, Nil inultum remanebit_. MARGARET I cannot breathe! The massy pillars Imprison me! The vaulted arches Crush me!—Air! Hide thyself! Sin and shame Stay never hidden. Air? Light? Woe to thee! _Quid sum miser tunc dicturus, Quem patronem rogaturus, Cum vix Justus sit securus_? They turn their faces, The glorified, from thee: The pure, their hands to offer, Shuddering, refuse thee! Woe! _Quid sum miser tune dicturus_? Neighbor! your cordial! (_She falls in a swoon_.) _District of Schierke and Elend_. DOST thou not wish a broomstick-steed’s assistance? The sturdiest he-goat I would gladly see: The way we take, our goal is yet some distance. So long as in my legs I feel the fresh existence. This knotted staff suffices me. What need to shorten so the way? Along this labyrinth of vales to wander, Then climb the rocky ramparts yonder, Wherefrom the fountain flings eternal spray, Is such delight, my steps would fain delay. The spring-time stirs within the fragrant birches, And even the fir-tree feels it now: Should then our limbs escape its gentle searches? I notice no such thing, I vow! ’Tis winter still within my body: Upon my path I wish for frost and snow. How sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy, The moon’s lone disk, with its belated glow, And lights so dimly, that, as one advances, At every step one strikes a rock or tree! Let us, then, use a Jack-o’-lantern’s glances: I see one yonder, burning merrily. Ho, there! my friend! I’ll levy thine attendance: Why waste so vainly thy resplendence? Be kind enough to light us up the steep!
My reverence, I hope, will me enable To curb my temperament unstable; For zigzag courses we are wont to keep. Indeed? he’d like mankind to imitate! Now, in the Devil’s name, go straight, Or I’ll blow out his being’s flickering spark! You are the master of the house, I mark, And I shall try to serve you nicely. But then, reflect: the mountain’s magic-mad to-day, And if a will-o’-the-wisp must guide you on the way, You mustn’t take things too precisely.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.