Part 12 (2/2)
Release me, now! I soon shall come again; Then thou, at will, mayst question and compel me.
FAUST
I have not snares around thee cast; Thyself hast led thyself into the meshes.
Who traps the Devil, hold him fast!
Not soon a second time he'll catch a prey so precious.
MEPHISTOPHELES
An't please thee, also I'm content to stay, And serve thee in a social station; But stipulating, that I may With arts of mine afford thee recreation.
FAUST
Thereto I willingly agree, If the diversion pleasant be.
MEPHISTOPHELES
My friend, thou'lt win, past all pretences, More in this hour to soothe thy senses, Than in the year's monotony.
That which the dainty spirits sing thee, The lovely pictures they shall bring thee, Are more than magic's empty show.
Thy scent will be to bliss invited; Thy palate then with taste delighted, Thy nerves of touch ecstatic glow!
All unprepared, the charm I spin: We're here together, so begin!
SPIRITS
Vanish, ye darking Arches above him!
Loveliest weather, Born of blue ether, Break from the sky!
O that the darkling Clouds had departed!
Starlight is sparkling, Tranquiller-hearted Suns are on high.
Heaven's own children In beauty bewildering, Waveringly bending, Pa.s.s as they hover; Longing unending Follows them over.
They, with their glowing Garments, out-flowing, Cover, in going, Landscape and bower, Where, in seclusion, Lovers are plighted, Lost in illusion.
Bower on bower!
Tendrils unblighted!
Lo! in a shower Grapes that o'ercl.u.s.ter Gush into must, or Flow into rivers Of foaming and flas.h.i.+ng Wine, that is das.h.i.+ng Gems, as it boundeth Down the high places, And spreading, surroundeth With crystalline s.p.a.ces, In happy embraces, Blossoming forelands, Emerald sh.o.r.e-lands!
And the winged races Drink, and fly onward- Fly ever sunward To the enticing Islands, that flatter, Dipping and rising Light on the water!
Hark, the inspiring Sound of their quiring!
See, the entrancing Whirl of their dancing!
All in the air are Freer and fairer.
Some of them scaling Boldly the highlands, Others are sailing, Circling the islands; Others are flying; Life-ward all hieing,- All for the distant Star of existent Rapture and Love!
MEPHISTOPHELES
He sleeps! Enough, ye fays! your airy number Have sung him truly into slumber: For this performance I your debtor prove.- Not yet art thou the man, to catch the Fiend and hold him!- With fairest images of dreams infold him, Plunge him in seas of sweet untruth!
Yet, for the threshold's magic which controlled him, The Devil needs a rat's quick tooth.
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