IMPERIAL PALACE. THRONE-ROOM
Council of State, in expectation of the EMPEROR
TRUMPETS
Enter courtiers of every grade, splendidly attired. The Emperor ascends the throne; to the right the ASTROLOGER.
EMPEROR
I greet you, trusty friends and dear,
Assembled thus from far and wide!—
I see the wise man at my side,
But wherefore is the fool not here?
PAGE
Entangled in thy mantle’s flow.
He tripped upon the stair below;
The mass of fat they bare away,
If dead or drunken—who can say?
SECOND PAGE
Forthwith another comes apace,
With wondrous speed to take his place;
Costly, yet so grotesque his gear,
All start amazed as he draws near.
Crosswise the guards before his face,
Entrance to bar, their halberds hold—
Yet there he is, the fool so bold.
MEPHISTOPHELES (kneeling before the throne)
What is accursed and gladly hailed?
What is desired and chased away?
What is upbraided and assailed?
What wins protection every day?
Whom darest thou not summon here?
Whose name doth plaudits still command?
What to thy throne now draweth near?
What from this place itself hath banned?
EMPEROR
For this time thou thy words may’st spare!
This is no place for riddles, friend;
They are these gentlemen’s affair,—
Solve them! an ear I’ll gladly lend.
My old fool’s gone, far, far away, I fear;
Take thou his place, come, stand beside me here!
[MEPHISTOPHELES ascends and places himself at the
EMPEROR’S left.]
Murmur of the Crowd
Here’s a new fool—for plague anew!
Whence cometh he?—How passed he through?
The old one fell—he squander’d hath.—
He was a tub—now ’tis a lath.—
EMPEROR
So now, my friends, beloved and leal,
Be welcome all, from near and far!
Ye meet ‘neath an auspicious star;
For us above are written joy and weal.
But tell me wherefore, on this day,
When we all care would cast away,
And don the masker’s quaint array,
And naught desire but to enjoy,
Should we with state affairs ourselves annoy?
But if ye think it so must be indeed,
Why, well and good, let us forthwith proceed!
CHANCELLOR
The highest virtue circles halo-wise
Our Cæsar’s brow; virtue, which from the throne,
He validly can exercise alone:
Justice!—What all men love and prize,
What all demand, desire, and sorely want,
It lies with him, this to the folk to grant.
But ah! what help can intellect command,
Goodness of heart, or willingness of hand,
When fever saps the state with deadly power,
And mischief breedeth mischief, hour by hour?
To him who downward from this height supreme
Views the wide realm, ’tis like a troubled dream,
Where the deformed deformity o’ersways,
Where lawlessness, through law, the tyrant plays,
And error’s ample world itself displays.
One steals a woman, one a steer,
Lights from the altar, chalice, cross,
Boasts of his deed full many a year,
Unscathed in body, without harm or loss.
Now to the hall accusers throng;
On cushioned throne the judge presides;
Surging meanwhile in eddying tides,
Confusion waxes fierce and strong.
He may exalt in crime and shame,
Who on accomplices depends;
Guilty! the verdict they proclaim,
When Innocence her cause defends.
So will the world succumb to ill,
And what is worthy perish quite;
How then may grow the sense which still
Instructs us to discern the right?
E’en the right-minded man, in time,
To briber and to flatterer yields;
The judge, who cannot punish crime,
Joins with the culprit whom he shields.—
I’ve painted black, yet fain had been
A veil to draw before the scene.
Pause
Measures must needs be taken; when
All injure or are injured, then
E’en Majesty becomes a prey.
FIELD MARSHAL
In these wild days what tumults reign!
Each smitten is and smites again,
Deaf to command, will none obey.
The burgher, safe behind his wall,
Within his rocky nest, the knight,
Against us have conspired, and all
Firmly to hold their own unite.
Impatient is the hireling now,
With vehemence he claims his due;
And did we owe him naught, I trow,
Off he would run, nor bid adieu.
Who thwarts what fondly all expect,
He bath disturbed a hornet’s nest;
The empire which they should protect,
It lieth plundered and oppress’d.
Their furious rage may none restrain;
Already half the world’s undone;
Abroad there still are kings who reign—
None thinks ’tis his concern, not one.
TREASURER
Who will depend upon allies!
For us their promised subsidies
Like conduit-water, will not flow.
Say, Sire, through your dominions vast
To whom hath now possession passed!
Some upstart, wheresoe’er we go,
Keeps house, and independent reigns.
We must look on, he holds his own;
So many rights away we’ve thrown,
That for ourselves no right remains.
On so-called parties in the state
There’s no reliance, now-a-days;
They may deal out or blame or praise,
Indifferent are love and hate.
The Ghibelline as well as Guelph
Retire, that they may live at ease!
Who helps his neighbor now? Himself
Each hath enough to do to please.
Barred are the golden gates; while each
Scrapes, snatches, gathers all within his reach—
Empty, meanwhile, our chest remains.
STEWARD
What worry must I, also, bear!
Our aim each day is still to spare—
And more each day we need; my pains,
Daily renewed, are never o’er.
The cooks lack nothing;—deer, wild-boar,
Stags, hares, fowls, turkeys, ducks and geese,—
Tribute in kind, sure payment, these
Come fairly in, and none complains.
But now at last wine fails; and if of yore
Up-piled upon the cellar-floor,
Cask rose on cask, a goodly store,
From the best slopes and vintage; now
The swilling of our lords, I trow,
Unceasing, drains the very lees.
E’en the Town-council must give out
Its liquor;—bowls and cups they seize;
And ‘neath the table lies the drunken rout.
Now must I pay, whate’er betides;
Me the Jew spares not; he provides
Anticipation-bonds which feed
Each year on that which must succeed;
The swine are never fattened now;
Pawned is the pillow or the bed,
And to the table comes fore-eaten bread.
EMPEROR (after some reflection, to MEPHISTOPHELES)
Say, fool, another grievance knowest thou?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I, nowise. On this circling pomp to gaze,
On thee and thine! There can reliance fail
Where majesty resistless sways,
And ready power makes foemen quail?
Where loyal will, through reason strong,
And prowess, manifold, unite,
What could together join for wrong,
For darkness, where such stars give light?
Murmur of the Crowd
He is a knave—he comprehends—
He lies—while lying serves his ends—
Full well I know—what lurks behind—
What next?—Some scheme is in the wind!—
MEPHISTOPHELES
Where is not something wanting here on earth?
Here this,—there that: of gold is here the dearth.
It cannot from the floor be scrap’d, ’tis true;
But what lies deepest wisdom brings to view.
In mountain-veins, walls underground,
Is gold, both coined and uncoined, to be found.
And if ye ask me,—bring it forth who can?
Spirit-and nature-power of gifted man.
CHANCELLOR
Nature and spirit—christians ne’er should hear
Such words, with peril fraught and fear.
These words doom atheists to the fire.
Nature is sin, spirit is devil; they,
Between them, doubt beget, their progeny,
Hermaphrodite, mis-shapen, dire.
Not so with us! Within our Cæsar’s land
Two orders have arisen, two alone,
Who worthily support his ancient throne:
Clergy and knights, who fearless stand,
Bulwarks ‘gainst every storm, and they
Take church and state as their appropriate pay.
Through lawless men, the vulgar herd
To opposition have of late been stirred;
The heretics these are, the wizards, who
The city ruin and the country too.
With thy bold jests, to this high sphere,
Such miscreants wilt smuggle in;
Hearts reprobate to you are dear;
They to the fool are near of kin.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Herein your learned men I recognize!
What you touch not, miles distant from you lies;
What you grasp not, is naught in sooth to you;
What you count not, cannot, you deem, be true;
What you weigh not, that hath for you no weight;
What you coin not, you’re sure is counterfeit.
EMPEROR
Therewith our needs are not one whit the less.
What meanest thou with this thy Lent-address?
I’m tired of this eternal If and How.
‘Tis gold we lack; so good, procure it thou!
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’ll furnish more, ay, more than all you ask.
Though light it seems, not easy is the task.
There lies the gold, but to procure it thence,
That is the art: who knoweth to commence?
Only consider, in those days of terror,
When human floods swamped land and folk together,
How every one, how great soe’er his fear,
All that he treasured most, hid there or here;
So was it ‘neath the mighty Roman’s sway,
So on till yesterday, ay, till today:
That all beneath the soil still buried lies—
The soil is Cæsar’s, his shall be the prize.
TREASURER
Now for a fool he speaketh not amiss;
Our Cæsar’s ancient right, in sooth, was this.
CHANCELLOR
Satan for you spreads golden snares; ’tis clear,
Something not right or pious worketh here.
STEWARD
To us at court if welcome gifts he bring,
A little wrong is no such serious thing.
FIELD MARSHAL
Shrewd is the fool, he bids what all desire;
The soldier, whence it comes, will not inquire.
MEPHISTOPHELES
You think yourselves, perchance, deceived by me;
Ask the Astrologer! This man is he!
Circle round circle, hour and house, he knows.—
Then tell us, how the heavenly aspect shows.
Murmur of the Crowd
Two rascals—each to other known—
Phantast and fool—so near the throne—
The old, old song,—now trite with age—
The fool still prompts—while speaks the sage.—
ASTROLOGER (speaks, MEPHISTOPHELES prompts)
The sun himself is purest gold; for pay
And favor serves the herald, Mercury;
Dame Venus hath bewitched you from above,
Early and late, she looks on you with love;
Chaste Luna’s humor varies hour by hour;
Mars, though he strike not, threats you with his power,
And Jupiter is still the fairest star;
Saturn is great, small to the eye and far;
As metal him we slightly venerate,
Little in worth, though ponderous in weight.
Now when with Sol fair Luna doth unite.
Silver with gold, cheerful the world and bright!
Then easy ’tis to gain whate’er one seeks;
Parks, gardens, palaces, and rosy cheeks;
These things procures this highly learned man.
He can accomplish what none other can.
EMPEROR
Double, methinks, his accents ring,
And yet they no conviction bring.
Murmur
Of what avail!—a worn-out tale—
Calendery—and chemistry—
I the false word—full oft have heard—
And as of yore—we’re hoax’d once more.
MEPHISTOPHELES
The grand discovery they misprize,
As, in amaze, they stand around;
One prates of gnomes and sorceries,
Another of the sable hound.
What matters it, though witlings rail,
Though one his suit ‘gainst witchcraft press,
If his sole tingle none the less,
If his sure footing also fail?
Ye of all swaying Nature feel
The secret working, never-ending,
And, from her lowest depths up-tending,
E’en now her living trace doth steal.
If sudden cramps your limbs surprise,
If all uncanny seem the spot—
There dig and delve, but dally not!
There lies the fiddler, there the treasure lies!
Murmur
Like lead it lies my foot about—
Cramp’d is my arm—’tis only gout—
Twitchings I have in my great toe—
Down all my back strange pains I know—
Such indications make it clear
That sumless treasuries are here.
EMPEROR
To work—the time for flight is past.—
Put to the test your frothy lies!
These treasures bring before our eyes!
Sceptre and sword aside I’ll cast,
And with these royal hands, indeed,
If thou lie not, to work proceed.
Thee, if thou lie, I’ll send to hell!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Thither to find the way I know full well!—
Yet can I not enough declare,
What wealth unown’d lies waiting everywhere:
The countryman, who ploughs the land,
Gold-crocks upturneth with the mould;
Nitre he seeks in lime-walls old,
And findeth, in his meagre hand,
Scared, yet rejoiced, rouleaus of gold.
How many a vault upblown must be,
Into what clefts, what shafts, must he
Who doth of hidden treasure know,
Descend, to reach the world below!
In cellars vast, impervious made,
Goblets of gold he sees displayed,
Dishes and plates, row after row;
There beakers, rich with rubies, stand;
And would he use them, close at hand
Well stored the ancient moisture lies;
Yet—would ye him who knoweth, trust?—
The staves long since have turned to dust,
A tartar cask their place supplies!
Not gold alone and jewels rare,
Essence of noblest wines are there,
In night and horror veiled. The wise,
Unwearied here pursues his quest.
To search by day, that were a jest;
‘Tis darkness that doth harbor mysteries.
EMPEROR
What can the dark avail? Look thou to that!
If aught have worth, it cometh to the light.
Who can detect the rogue at dead of night?
Black are the cows, and gray is every cat.
These pots of heavy gold, if they be there—
Come, drive thy plough, upturn them with thy share!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Take spade and hoe thyself;—dig on—
Great shalt thou be through peasant toil—
A herd of golden calves anon
Themselves shall tear from out the soil;
Then straight, with rapture newly born,
Thyself thou canst, thy sweet-heart wilt adorn.
A sparkling gem, lustrous, of varied dye,
Beauty exalts as well as majesty.
EMPEROR
To work, to work! How long wilt linger?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Sire,
Relax, I pray, such vehement desire!
First let us see the motley, joyous show!
A mind distraught conducts not to the goal.
First must we calmness win through self-control,
Through things above deserve what lies below.
Who seeks for goodness, must himself be good;
Who seeks for joy, must moderate his blood;
Who wine desires, the luscious grape must press;
Who craveth miracles, more faith possess.
EMPEROR
So be the interval in gladness spent!
Ash-Wednesday cometh, to our heart’s content.
Meanwhile we’ll solemnize, whate’er befall,
More merrily the joyous Carnival.
[Trumpets. Exeunt.]
MEPHISTOPHELES
That merit and success are link’d together,
This to your fools occurreth never;
Could they appropriate the wise man’s stone,
That, not the wise man, they would prize alone.
* * * * *
ACT THE SECOND
HIGH-VAULTED, NARROW GOTHIC CHAMBER, FORMERLY FAUST’S, UNALTERED
MEPHISTOPHELES (stepping from behind a curtain. While he raises it and looks back, FAUST is seen, stretched upon an old-fashioned bed)
Lie there, ill-starred one! In love’s chain,
Full hard to loose, he captive lies!
Not soon his senses will regain
Whom Helena doth paralyze.
(Looking round)
Above, around, on every side
I gaze, uninjured all remains:
Dimmer, methinks, appear the color’d panes,
The spiders’ webs are multiplied,
Yellow the paper, and the ink is dry;
Yet in its place each thing I find;
And here the very pen doth lie,
Wherewith himself Faust to the Devil signed,
Yea, quite dried up, and deeper in the bore,
The drop of blood, I lured from him of yore—
O’erjoyed to own such specimen unique
Were he who objects rare is fain to seek—;
Here on its hook hangs still the old fur cloak,
Me it remindeth of that merry joke,
When to the boy I precepts gave, for truth,
Whereon, perchance, he’s feeding now, as youth.
The wish comes over me, with thee allied,
Enveloped in thy worn and rugged folds,
Once more to swell with the professor’s pride!
How quite infallible himself he holds;
This feeling to obtain your savants know;
The devil parted with it long ago.
[He shakes the fur cloak which he has taken down; crickets, moths, and chafers fly out.]
CHORUS OF INSECTS
We welcome thy coming,
Our patron of yore!
We’re dancing and humming,
And know thee once more.
Us singly, in silence,
Hast planted, and lo!
By thousands, oh Father,
We dance to and fro.
The rogue hides discreetly
The bosom within;
We looseskins fly rather
Forth from the fur skin.
MEPHISTOPHELES
O’erjoyed I am my progeny to know!
We’re sure to reap in time, if we but sow.
I shake the old fur-mantle as before,
And here and there out flutters one or more.—
Above, around, hasten, belovèd elves,
In hundred thousand nooks to hide yourselves!
‘Mid boxes there of by-gone time,
Here in these age-embrownèd scrolls,
In broken potsherds, foul with grime,
In yonder skulls’ now eyeless holes!
Amid such rotten, mouldering life,
Must foolish whims for aye be rife.
[Slips into the fur mantle.]
Come shroud my shoulders as of yore!
Today I’m principal once more;
But useless ’tis, to bear the name:
Where are the folk to recognize my claim?
[He pulls the bell, which emits a shrill penetrating sound, at which the halls shake and the doors spring open.]
FAMULUS (tottering up the long dark passage)
What a clamor! What a quaking!
Stairs are rocking, walls are shaking:
Through the windows’ quivering sheen,
Are the stormful lightnings seen;
Springs the ceiling,—thence, below,
Lime and mortar rattling flow:
And, though bolted fast, the door
Is undone by magic power!
There, in Faust’s old fleece bedight,
Stands a giant,—dreadful sight!
At his glance, his beck, at me!
I could sink upon my knee.
Shall I fly, or shall I stay?
What will be my fate today?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Come hither, friend!—Your name is Nicodemus?
FAMULUS
Most honor’d Sir, such is my name.—Oremus!
MEPHISTOPHELES
That we’ll omit!
FAMULUS
O joy, me you do not forget.
MEPHISTOPHELES
I know it well: old, and a student yet;
My mossy friend, even a learned man
Still studies on, because naught else he can:
Thus a card-house each builds of medium height;
The greatest spirit fails to build it quite.
Your master, though, that title well may claim—
The noble Doctor Wagner, known to fame,
First in the learned world! ‘Tis he, they say,
Who holds that world together; every day
Of wisdom he augments the store!
Who crave omniscience, evermore
In crowds upon his teaching wait;
He from the rostrum shines alone;
The keys doth like Saint Peter own,
And doth of Hell and Heaven ope the gate;
As before all he glows and sparkles,
No fame, no glory but grows dim,
Even the name of Faustus darkles!
Inventor there is none like him.
FAMULUS
Pardon, most honor’d Sir, excuse me, pray—
If I presume your utterance to gainsay—
This bears not on the question any way;
A modest mind is his allotted share.
The disappearance, unexplained as yet,
Of the great man, his mind doth sorely fret;
Comfort from his return and health are still his prayer.
The chamber, as in Doctor Faustus’ day,
Maintains, untouched, its former state,
And for its ancient lord doth wait.
Venture therein I scarcely may.
What now the aspect of the stars?—
Awe-struck the very walls appear;
The door-posts quivered, sprang the bars—
Else you yourself could not have entered here.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Where then bestowed himself hath he?
Lead me to him! bring him to me!
FAMULUS
Alas! Too strict his prohibition,
Scarce dare I, without his permission.
Months, on his mighty work intent,
Hath he, in strict seclusion spent.
Most dainty ‘mong your men of books,
Like charcoal-burner now he looks,
With face begrimed from ear to nose;
His eyes are blear’d while fire he blows;
Thus for the crisis still he longs;
His music is the clang of tongs.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Admittance unto me deny?
To hasten his success, the man am I.
[Exit FAMULUS. MEPHISTOPHELES seats himself with a solemn air.]
Scarce have I ta’en my post, when lo!
Stirs from behind a guest, whom well I know;
Of the most recent school, this time, is he,
And quite unbounded will his daring be.
BACCALAUREUS (storming along the passage)
Open find I door and gate!
Hope at last springs up elate,
That the living shall no more
Corpse-like rot, as heretofore,
And, while breathing living breath,
Waste and moulder as in death.
Here partition, screen, and wall
Are sinking, bowing to their fall,
And, unless we soon retreat,
Wreck and ruin us will greet.
Me, though bold, nor soon afraid,
To advance shall none persuade.
What shall I experience next?
Years ago, when sore perplexed,
Came I not a freshman here,
Full of anxious doubt and fear,
On these gray-beards then relied,
By their talk was edified?
What from musty tomes they drew,
They lied to me; the things they knew
Believed they not; with falsehood rife,
Themselves and me they robbed of life.
How?—Yonder is the murky glare,
There’s one still sitting in the Chair—
Drawing near I wonder more—
Just as him I left of yore,
There he sits, in furry gown,
Wrapped in shaggy fleece, the brown!
Then he clever seemed, indeed,
Him as yet I could not read;
Naught will it avail today;
So have at him, straight-away!
If Lethe’s murky flood not yet hath passed,
Old Sir, through your bald pate, that sideways bends,
The scholar recognize, who hither wends,
Outgrown your academic rods at last.
The same I find you, as of yore;
But I am now the same no more.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Glad am I that I’ve rung you here.
I prized you then not slightingly;
In grub and chrysalis appear
The future brilliant butterfly.
A childish pleasure then you drew
From collar, lace, and curls.—A queue
You probably have never worn?—
Now to a crop I see you shorn.
All resolute and bold your air—
But from the absolute forbear!
BACCALAUREUS
We’re in the ancient place, mine ancient Sir,
But think upon time’s onward flow,
And words of double-meaning spare!
Quite otherwise we hearken now.
You fooled the simple, honest youth;
It cost but little art in sooth,
To do what none today will dare.
MEPHISTOPHELES
If to the young the naked truth one speaks,
It pleases in no wise the yellow beaks;
But afterward, when in their turn
On their own skin the painful truth they learn,
They think, forsooth, from their own head it came;
“The master was a fool,” they straight proclaim.
BACCALAUREUS
A rogue perchance!—For where’s the teacher found
Who to our face, direct, will Truth expound?
Children to edify, each knows the way,
To add or to subtract, now grave, now gay.
MEPHISTOPHELES
For learning there’s in very truth a time;
For teaching, I perceive, you now are prime.
While a few suns and many moons have waned,
A rich experience you have doubtless gained!
BACCALAUREUS
Experience! Froth and scum alone,
Not with the mind of equal birth!
Confess! what men have always known,
As knowledge now is nothing worth.
MEPHISTOPHELES (after a pause)
I long have thought myself a fool;
Now shallow to myself I seem, and dull.
BACCALAUREUS
That pleases me! Like reason that doth sound;
The first old man of sense I yet have found!
MEPHISTOPHELES
I sought for hidden treasures, genuine gold—
And naught but hideous ashes forth I bore!
BACCALAUREUS
Confess that pate of yours, though bare and old,
Than yonder hollow skull is worth no more!
MEPHISTOPHELES (good-naturedly)
Thou know’st not, friend, how rude is thy reply.
BACCALAUREUS
In German to be courteous is to lie.
MEPHISTOPHELES (still moving his wheel-chair ever nearer to the proscenium, to the pit)
Up here I am bereft of light and air;
I perhaps shall find a refuge with you there?
BACCALAUREUS
When at their worst, that men would something be,
When they are naught, presumptuous seems to me.
Man’s life is in the blood, and where, in sooth,
Pulses the blood so strongly as in youth?
That’s living blood, which with fresh vigor rife,
The newer life createth out of life.
There all is movement, something there is done;
Falleth the weak, the able presses on!
While half the world we ‘neath our sway have brought,
What have ye done? Slept, nodded, dream’d, and thought,
Plan after plan rejected;—nothing won.
Age is, in sooth, a fever cold,
With frost of whims and peevish need:
When more than thirty years are told,
As good as dead one is indeed:
You it were best, methinks, betimes to slay.
MEPHISTOPHELES
The devil here has nothing more to say.
BACCALAUREUS
Save through my will, no devil dares to be.
MEPHISTOPHELES (aside)
The devil now prepares a fall for thee!
BACCALAUREUS
The noblest mission this of youth’s estate.
The world was not, till it I did create;
The radiant Sun I led from out the sea;
Her changeful course the Moon began with me;
The Day arrayed herself my steps to meet,
The Earth grew green, and blossom’d me to greet:
At my command, upon yon primal Night,
The starry hosts unveiled their glorious light.
Who, beside me, the galling chains unbound,
Which cramping thought had cast your spirits round?
But I am free, as speaks my spirit-voice,
My inward light I follow, and rejoice;
Swift I advance, enraptur’d, void of fear,
Brightness before me, darkness in the rear. [Exit.]
MEPHISTOPHELES
Go, in thy pride, Original, thy way!—
True insight would, in truth, thy spirit grieve!
What wise or stupid thoughts can man conceive,
Unponder’d in the ages passed away?—
Yet we for him need no misgiving have;
Changed will he be, when a few years are past;
Howe’er absurdly may the must behave,
Nathless it yields a wine at last.—
(To the younger part of the audience, who do not applaud.)
Though to my words you’re somewhat cold,
Good children, me you don’t offend;
Reflect! The devil, he is old;
Grow old then, him to comprehend!
LABORATORY
(After the fashion of the middle ages; cumbrous, useless apparatus, for fantastic purposes)
WAGNER (at the furnace)
Soundeth the bell, the fearful clang
Thrills through these sooty walls; no more
Upon fulfilment waits the pang
Of hope or fear;—suspense is o’er;
The darknesses begin to clear,
Within the inmost phial glows
Radiance, like living coal, that throws,
As from a splendid carbuncle, its rays;
Athwart the gloom its lightning plays.
A pure white lustre doth appear;
O may I never lose it more!—
My God! what rattles at the door?
MEPHISTOPHELES (entering)
Welcome! As friend I enter here.
WAGNER
Hail to the star that rules the hour!
(Softly)
On breath and utterance let a ban be laid!
Soon will be consummate a work of power.
MEPHISTOPHELES (in a whisper)
What is it, then?
WAGNER
A man is being made.
MEPHISTOPHELES
A man? and pray what loving pair
Have in your smoke-hole their abode?
WAGNER
Nay! Heaven forbid! As nonsense we declare
The ancient procreative mode;
The tender point, life’s spring, the gentle strength
That took and gave, that from within hath pressed,
And seized, intent itself to manifest,
The nearest first, the more remote at length,—
This from its dignity is now dethron’d!
The brute indeed may take delight therein,
But man, by whom such mighty gifts are own’d,
Must have a purer, higher origin.
(He turns to the furnace)
It flashes, see!—Now may we trustful hold,
That if, of substances a hundred-fold,
Through mixture,—for on mixture it depends—
The human substance duly we compose,
And then in a retort enclose,
And cohobate; in still repose
The work is perfected, our labor ends.
(Again turning to the furnace)
It forms! More clear the substance shows!
Stronger, more strong, conviction grows!
What Nature’s mystery we once did style,
That now to test, our reason tries,
And what she organized erewhile,
We now are fain to crystallize.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Who lives, doth much experience glean;
By naught in this world will he be surprised;
Already in my travel-years I’ve seen
Full many a race of mortals crystallized.
WAGNER (still gazing intently on the phial)
It mounts, it glows, and doth together run,
One moment, and the work is done!
As mad, a grand design at first is view’d;
But we henceforth may laugh at fate,
And so a brain, with thinking-power embued,
Henceforth your living thinker will create.
(Surveying the phial with rapture)
The glass resounds, with gracious power possessed;
It dims, grows clear; living it needs must be!
And now in form of beauty dressed,
A dainty mannikin I see.
What more can we desire, what more mankind?
Unveiled is now what hidden was of late;
Give ear unto this sound, and you will find,
A voice it will become, articulate.—
HOMUNCULUS (in the phial, to WAGNER)
Now, Fatherkin, how goes it? ‘Twas no jest!
Come, let me to thy heart be fondly pressed—
Lest the glass break, less tight be thine embrace
This is the property of things: the All
Scarcely suffices for the natural;
The artificial needs a bounded space.
(To MEPHISTOPHELES)
But thou, Sir Cousin, Rogue, art thou too here?
At the right moment! Thee I thank. ‘Tis clear
To us a happy fortune leadeth thee;
While I exist, still must I active be,
And to the work forthwith myself would gird;
Thou’rt skill’d the way to shorten.
WAGNER
Just one word!
I oft have been ashamed that knowledge failed,
When old and young with problems me assailed.
For instance: no one yet could comprehend,
How soul and body so completely blend,
Together hold, as ne’er to part, while they
Torment each other through the live-long day.
So then—
MEPHISTOPHELES
Forbear! The problem solve for me,
Why man and wife so wretchedly agree?
Upon this point, my friend, thou’lt ne’er be clear;
The mannikin wants work, he’ll find it here.
HOMUNCULUS
What’s to be done?
MEPHISTOPHELES (pointing to a side door)
Yonder thy gifts display!
WAGNER (still gazing into the phial)
A very lovely boy, I needs must say!
(The side door opens; FAUST is seen stretched upon a couch)
HOMUNCULUS (amazed)
Momentous!
(The phial slips from WAGNER’s hands, hovers over FAUST, and sheds a light upon him)
Girt with beauty!—Water clear
In the thick grove; fair women, who undress;
Most lovely creatures!—grows their loveliness:
But o’er the rest one shines without a peer,
As if from heroes, nay from gods she came;
In the transparent sheen her foot she laves;
The tender life-fire of her noble frame
She cools in yielding crystal of the waves.—
Of swiftly moving wings what sudden noise?
What plash, what plunge the liquid glass destroys?
The maidens fly, alarmed; alone, the queen,
With calm composure gazes on the scene;
With womanly and proud delight, she sees
The prince of swans press fondly to her knees,
Persistent, tame; familiar now he grows.—
But suddenly up-floats a misty shroud,
And with thick-woven veil doth over-cloud
The loveliest of all lovely shows.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Why thou in sooth canst everything relate!
Small as thou art, as phantast thou art great.
I can see nothing—
HOMUNCULUS
I believe it. Thou,
Bred in the north, in the dark ages, how,
In whirl of priesthood and knight-errantry,
Have for such sights thy vision free!
In darkness only thou’rt at home.
(Looking round)
Ye brown, repulsive blocks of stone,
Arch-pointed, low, with mould o’ergrown!
Should he awake, new care were bred,
He on the spot would straight be dead.
Wood-fountains, swans, fair nymphs undressed,
Such was his dream, presageful, rare;
In place like this how could he rest,
Which I, of easy mood, scarce bear!
Away with him!
MEPHISTOPHELES
I like your plan, proceed!
HOMUNCULUS
Command the warrior to the fight,
The maiden to the dancers lead!
They’re satisfied, and all is right.
E’en now a thought occurs, most bright;
‘Tis classical
Walpurgis-night—Most fortunate! It suits his bent,
So bring him straightway to his element!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Of such I ne’er have heard, I frankly own.
HOMUNCULUS
Upon your ear indeed how should it fall?
Only romantic ghosts to you are known;
Your genuine ghost is also classical.
MEPHISTOPHELES
But whitherward to travel are we fain?
Your antique colleagues are against my grain.
HOMUNCULUS
North-westward, Satan, lies thy pleasure-ground;
But, this time, we to the south-east are bound.—
An ample vale Peneios floweth through,
‘Mid bush and tree its curving shores it laves;
The plain extendeth to the mountain caves,
Above it lies Pharsalus, old and new.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Alas! Forbear! For ever be eschewed
Those wars of tyranny and servitude!
I’m bored with them: for they, as soon as done,
Straight recommence; and no one calls to mind
That he in sooth is only played upon
By Asmodeus, who still lurks behind.
They battle, so ’tis said, for freedom’s rights—
More clearly seen, ’tis slave ‘gainst slave who fights.
HOMUNCULUS
Leave we to men their nature, quarrel-prone!
Each must defend himself, as best he can,
From boyhood up; so he becomes a man.
The question here is, how to cure this one?
(Pointing to FAUST)
Hast thou a means, here let it tested be;
Canst thou do naught, then leave the task to me.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Full many a Brocken-piece I might essay,
But bolts of heathendom foreclose the way.
The Grecian folk were ne’er worth much, ’tis true,
Yet with the senses’ play they dazzle you;
To cheerful sins the human heart they lure,
While ours are reckoned gloomy and obscure.
And now what next?
HOMUNCULUS
Of old thou wert not shy;
And if I name Thessalian witches,—why,
I something shall have said,—of that I’m sure.
MEPHISTOPHELES (lustfully)
Thessalian witches—well! the people they
Concerning whom I often have inquired.
Night after night, indeed, with them to stay,
That were an ordeal not to be desired;
But for a trial trip—
HOMUNCULUS
The mantle there
Reach hither, wrap it round the knight!
As heretofore, the rag will bear
Both him and thee; the way I’ll light.
WAGNER (alarmed)
And I?
HOMUNCULUS
At home thou wilt remain,
Thee most important work doth there detain;
The ancient scrolls unfolding cull
Life’s elements, as taught by rule,
And each with other then combine with care;
Upon the What, more on the How, reflect!
Meanwhile as through a piece of world I fare,
I may the dot upon the “I” detect.
Then will the mighty aim accomplish’d be;
Such high reward deserves such striving;—wealth,
Honor and glory, lengthen’d life, sound health,
Knowledge withal and virtue—possibly.
Farewell!
WAGNER
Farewell! That grieves my heart full sore!
I fear indeed I ne’er shall see thee more.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Now to Peneios forth we wend!
We must not slight our cousin’s aid.
(To the spectators)
At last, in sooth, we all depend
On creatures we ourselves have made.
* * * * *
ACT THE THIRD
BEFORE THE PALACE OF MENELAUS IN SPARTA
Enter HELENA, with a chorus of captive Trojan women PENTHALIS, leader of the chorus
HELENA
The much admired and much upbraided, Helena,
From yonder strand I come, where erst we disembark’d,
Still giddy from the roll of ocean’s billowy surge,
Which, through Poseidon’s favor and through Euros’ might,
On lofty crested backs hither hath wafted us,
From Phrygia’s open field, to our ancestral bays.
Yonder King Menelaus, glad of his return,
With his brave men of war, rejoices on the beach.
But oh, thou lofty mansion, bid me welcome home,
Thou, near the steep decline, which Tyndareus, my sire,
From Pallas’ hill returning, here hath builded up;
Which also was adorned beyond all Sparta’s homes,
What time with Clytemnestra, sister-like, I grew,
With Castor, Pollux, too, playing in joyous sport.
Wings of yon brazen portals, you I also hail!
Through you, ye guest-inviting, hospitable gates,
Hath Menelaus once, from many princes chosen,
Shone radiant on my sight, in nuptial sort arrayed.
Expand to me once more, that I the king’s behest
May faithfully discharge, as doth the spouse beseem.
Let me within, and all henceforth behind remain,
That, charged with doom, till now darkly hath round me stormed!
For since, by care untroubled, I these sites forsook,
Seeking Cythera’s fane, as sacred wont enjoined,
And by the spoiler there was seized, the Phrygian,
Happened have many things, whereof men far and wide
Are fain to tell, but which not fain to hear is he
Of whom the tale, expanding, hath to fable grown.
CHORUS
Disparage not, oh glorious dame,
Honor’d possession of highest estate!
For sole unto thee is the greatest boon given;
The fame of beauty that all over-towers!
The hero’s name before him resounds,
So strides he with pride;
Nathless at once the stubbornest yields
To beauty, the presence which all things subdues.
HELENA
Enough! I with my spouse, ship-borne, have hither sped,
And to his city now by him before am sent.
But what the thought he harbors, that I cannot guess.
Come I as consort hither? Come I as a queen?
Come I as victim for the prince’s bitter pangs,
And for the evils dire, long suffered by the Greeks?
Conquered I am; but whether captive, know I not:
For the Immortal Powers fortune and fame for me
Have doomed ambiguous; direful ministers that wait
On beauty’s form, who even on this threshold here,
With dark and threat’ning mien, stand bodeful at my side!
Already, ere we left the hollow ship, my spouse
Looked seldom on me, spake no comfortable word;
As though he mischief brooded, facing me he sat.
But now, when to Eurotas’ deeply curving shores
Steering our course, scarce had our foremost vessel’s beak
The land saluted, spake he, as by God inspired:
“Here let my men of war, in ordered ranks, disbark;
I marshal them, drawn up upon the ocean strand;
But thou, pursue thy way, not swerving from the banks,
Laden with fruit, that bound Eurotas’ sacred stream,
Thy coursers guiding o’er the moist enamelled meads,
Until thou may’st arrive at that delightful plain,
Where Lacedæmon, once a broad fruit-bearing field,
By mountains stern surrounded lifteth now its walls.
Set thou thy foot within the tower-crown’d princely house,
Assemble thou the maids, whom I at parting left,
And with them summon too the wise old stewardess.
Bid her display to thee the treasures’ ample store,
As by thy sire bequeathed, and which, in peace and war,
Increasing evermore, I have myself up-piled.
All standing shalt thou find in ancient order; for,
This is the prince’s privilege, that to his home,
When he returns at last, safe everything he finds,
Each in its proper place, as he hath left it there.
For nothing of himself the slave hath power to change.”
CHORUS
Oh gladden now, with glorious wealth,
Ever increasing, thine eye and heart!
For beautiful chains, the adornment of crowns,
Are priding themselves, in haughty repose;
But step thou in, and challenge them all,
They arm themselves straight;
I joy to see beauty contend for the prize,
With gold, and with pearls, and with jewels of price.
HELENA
Forthwith hath followed next this mandate of my lord:
“Now when in order thou all things hast duly seen,
As many tripods take, as needful thou may’st deem,
And vessels manifold, which he at hand requires,
Who duly would perform the sacrificial rite,
The caldrons, and the bowls, and shallow altar-plates;
Let purest water, too, from sacred fount be there,
In lofty pitchers; further, store of season’d wood,
Quick to accept the flame, hold thou in readiness;
A knife, of sharpest edge, let it not fail at last.
But I all other things to thy sole care resign.”
So spake he, urging me at once to part; but naught,
Breathing the breath of life, the orderer appoints,
That, to the Olympians’ honor, he to slaughter doom’d:
Suspicious seems it! yet, dismiss I further care;
To the high Gods’ decree be everything referred,
Who evermore fulfil, what they in thought conceive;
It may, in sooth, by men, as evil or as good
Be counted, it by us, poor mortals, must be borne.
Full oft the ponderous axe on high the priest hath raised,
In consecration o’er the earth-bowed victim’s neck.
Nor could achieve the rite, for he was hinderèd,
Or by approaching foe, or intervening God.
CHORUS
What now will happen, canst thou not guess;
Enter, queen, enter thou in,
Strong of heart!
Evil cometh and good
Unexpected to mortals;
Though foretold, we credit it not.
Troya was burning, have we not seen
Death before us, terrible death!
And are we not here,
Bound to thee, serving with joy,
Seeing the dazzling sunshine of heaven,
And of earth too the fairest,
Kind one—thyself—happy are we!
HELENA
Come what come may! Whate’er impends, me it behoves
To ascend, without delay, into the royal house,
Long missed, oft yearned-for, well-nigh forfeited;
Before mine eyes once more it stands, I know not how.
My feet now bear me not so lightly as of yore,
When up the lofty steps I, as a child, have sprung.
CHORUS
Fling now, O sisters, ye
Captives who mourn your lot,
All your sorrows far from you.
Share ye your mistress’ joy!
Share ye Helena’s joy,
Who to the dear paternal hearth,
Though returning full late in sooth,
Nathless with surer, firmer tread
Joyfully now approaches!
Praise ye the holy ones,
Happy restoring ones,
God’s, the home-leaders, praise ye!
Soars the enfranchised one,
As upon out-spread wings,
Over the roughest fate, while in vain
Pines the captured one, yearning-fraught
Over the prison-battlements
Arms out-stretching, in anguish.
Nathless her a god hath seized,
The exiled one,
And from Ilion’s wreck
Bare her hitherward back once more,
To the ancient, the newly-adornèd
Father-house,
After unspeakable
Pleasure and anguish,
Earlier youthful time,
Newly quicken’d, to ponder.
PENTHALIS (as leader of the chorus)
Forsake ye now of song the joy-surrounded path,
As toward the portal-wings turn ye forthwith your gaze!
What see I, sisters? Here, returneth not the queen?
With step of eager haste, comes she not back to us?—
What is it, mighty queen, that in the palace-halls,
Instead of friendly hail, could there encounter thee,
And shatter thus thy being? Thou conceal’st it not;
For I abhorrence see, impressed upon thy brow,
And noble anger, that contendeth with surprise.
HELENA (who has left the folded doors open, excited)
No vulgar fear beseems the daughter of high Zeus,
And her no lightly-fleeting terror-hand may touch;
But that dire horror which, from womb of ancient Night,
In time primeval rising, still in divers shapes,
Like lurid clouds, from out the mountain’s fiery gorge,
Whirls itself forth, may shake even the hero’s breast.
Thus have the Stygian Gods, with horror fraught, today
Mine entrance to the house so marked, that fain I am,
Back from the oft-time trod, long-yearned-for threshold now,
Like to a guest dismissed, departing, to retire.
Yet no, retreated have I hither to the light;
No further shall ye drive me, Powers, who’er ye be!
Some expiation, I’ll devise, then purified,
The hearth-flame welcome may the consort as the lord.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Discover, noble queen, to us thy handmaidens,
Devotedly who serve thee, what hath come to pass!
HELENA
What I have seen ye, too, with your own eyes, shall see,
If ancient Night, within her wonder-teeming womb,
Hath not forthwith engulfed, once more, her ghastly birth;
But yet, that ye may know, with words I’ll tell it you:—
What time the royal mansion’s gloomy inner court,
Upon my task intent, with solemn step I trod,
I wondered at the drear and silent corridors.
Fell on mine ear no sound of busy servitors,
No stir of rapid haste, officious, met my gaze;
Before me there appeared no maid, no stewardess,
Who every stranger erst, with friendly greeting, hailed.
But when I neared at length the bosom of the hearth,
There saw I, by the light of dimly smouldering fire,
Crouched on the ground, a crone, close-veiled, of stature huge,
Not like to one asleep, but as absorbed in thought!
With accent of command I summon her to work,
The stewardess in her surmising, who perchance
My spouse, departing hence, with foresight there had placed;
Yet, closely muted up, still sits she, motionless;
At length, upon my threat, up-lifts she her right arm,
As though from hearth and hall she motioned me away.
Wrathful from her I turn, and forthwith hasten out,
Toward the steps, whereon aloft the Thalamos
Rises adorned, thereto the treasure-house hard by;
When, on a sudden, starts the wonder from the floor;
Barring with lordly mien my passage, she herself
In haggard height displays, with hollow eyes, blood-grimed,
An aspect weird and strange, confounding eye and thought.
Yet speak I to the winds; for language all in vain
Creatively essays to body forth such shapes.
There see herself! The light she ventures to confront!
Here are we master, till the lord and monarch comes;
The ghastly brood of Night doth Phoebus, beauty’s friend,
Back to their caverns drive, or them he subjugates.
[PHORKYAS stepping on the threshold, between the door-posts.]
CHORUS
Much have I lived through, although my tresses
Youthfully waver still round my temples;
Manifold horrors have mine eyes witnessed;
Warfare’s dire anguish, Ilion’s night,
When it fell;
Through the o’erclouded, dust over-shadow’d
Tumult of war, to gods have I hearken’d,
Fearfully shouting; hearken’d while discord’s
Brazen voices clang through the field
Rampart-wards.
Ah, yet standing were Ilion’s
Ramparts; nathless the glowing flames
Shot from neighbor to neighbor roof,
Ever spreading from here and there,
with their tempest’s fiery blast,
Over the night-darkened city.—
Flying, saw I through smoke and glare,
And the flash of the tonguèd flames,
Dreadful, threatening gods draw near;
Wondrous figures, of giant mould,
Onward striding through the weird
Gloom of fire-luminous vapor.
Saw I them, or did my mind,
Anguish-torn, itself body forth
Phantoms so terrible—never more
Can I tell; but that I this
Horrible shape with eyes behold,
This of a surety know I!
Yea, with my hands could clutch it even,
Did not fear, from the perilous
Venture, ever withhold me.
Tell me, of Phorkyas’
Daughters which art thou?
For to that family
Thee must I liken.
Art thou, may be, one of the gray-born?
One eye only, and but one tooth
Using still alternately?
One of the Graiæ art thou?
Darest thou, Horror,
Thus beside beauty,
Or to the searching glance
Phoebus’ unveil thee?
Nathless step thou forward undaunted;
For the horrible sees he not,
As his hallowed glances yet
Never gazed upon shadows.
But a tragical fate, alas,
Us, poor mortals, constrains to bear
Anguish of vision, unspeakable,
Which the contemptible, ever-detestable,
Doth in lovers of beauty wake!
Yea, so hearken then, if thou dar’st
Us to encounter, hear our curse,
Hark to each imprecation’s threat,
Out of the curse-breathing lips of the happy ones,
Who by the gods created are!
PHORKYAS
Trite is the word, yet high and true remains the sense:
That Shame and Beauty ne’er together, hand in hand,
Their onward way pursue, earth’s verdant path along.
Deep-rooted in these twain dwelleth an ancient grudge,
So that, where’er they happen on their way to meet,
Upon her hated rival turneth each her back;
Then onward speeds her course with greater vehemence,
Shame filled with sorrow, Beauty insolent of mood,
Till her at length embraces Orcus’ hollow night,
Unless old age erewhile her haughtiness hath tamed.
You find I now, ye wantons, from a foreign shore,
With insolence o’erflowing, like the clamorous flight
Of cranes, with shrilly scream that high above our heads,
A long and moving cloud, croaking send down their noise,
Which the lone pilgrim lures wending his silent way,
Aloft to turn his gaze; yet on their course they fare,
He also upon his: so will it be with us.
Who are ye then, that thus around the monarch’s house,
With Maenad rage, ye dare like drunken ones to rave?
Who are ye then that ye the house’s stewardess
Thus bay, like pack of hounds hoarsely that bay the moon?
Think ye, ’tis hid from me, the race whereof ye are?
Thou youthful, war-begotten, battle-nurtured brood,
Lewd and lascivious thou, seducers and seduced,
Unnerving both, the soldier’s and the burgher’s strength!
Seeing your throng, to me a locust-swarm ye seem,
Which, settling down, conceals the young green harvest-field.
Wasters of others’ toil! ye dainty revellers,
Destroyers in its bloom of all prosperity!
Thou conquer’d merchandise, exchanged and marketed!
HELENA
Who in the mistress’ presence chides her handmaidens,
Audacious, doth o’erstep her household privilege;
For her alone beseems, the praise-worthy to praise,
As also that to punish which doth merit blame.
Moreover with the service am I well-content,
Which these have rendered me, what time proud Ilion’s strength
Beleaguer’d stood, and fell and sank; nor less indeed
When we, of our sea-voyage the dreary changeful woe
Endured, where commonly each thinks but of himself.
Here also I expect the like from this blithe train;
Not what the servant is, we ask, but how he serves.
Therefore be silent thou, and snarl at them no more!
If thou the monarch’s house till now hast guarded well,
Filling the mistress’ place, that for thy praise shall count;
But now herself is come, therefore do thou retire,
Lest chastisement be thine, instead of well-earn’d meed!
PHORKYAS
The menial train to threat, a sacred right remains,
Which the illustrious spouse of heaven-favor’d lord
Through many a year doth earn of prudent governance.
Since that, now recognized, thy ancient place as queen,
And mistress of the house, once more thou dost resume,
The long-time loosen’d reins grasp thou; be ruler here,
And in possession take the treasures, us with them!
Me before all protect, who am the elder-born,
From this young brood, who seem, thy swan-like beauty near,
But as a basely wingèd flock of cackling geese!
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
How hideous beside beauty showeth hideousness!
PHORKYAS
How foolish by discretion’s side shows foolishness!
[Henceforth the choristers respond in turn, stepping forth singly from the chorus.]
FIRST CHORISTER
Tell us of Father Erebus, tell us of Mother Night!
PHORKYAS
Speak thou of Scylla, speak of her, thy sister-born!
SECOND CHORISTER
From thy ancestral tree springs many a monster forth.
PHORKYAS
To Orcus hence, away! Seek thou thy kindred there!
THIRD CHORISTER
Who yonder dwell, in sooth, for thee are far too young.
PHORKYAS
Tiresias, the hoary, go, make love to him!
FOURTH CHORISTER
Orion’s nurse of old, was thy great-grand-daughter.
PHORKYAS
Harpies, so I suspect, did rear thee up in filth.
FIFTH CHORISTER
Thy cherished meagreness, whereon dost nourish that?
PHORKYAS
‘Tis not with blood, for which so keenly thou dost thirst.
SIXTH CHORISTER
For corpses dost thou hunger, loathsome corpse thyself!
PHORKYAS
Within thy shameless jaw the teeth of vampires gleam.
SEVENTH CHORISTER
Thine I should stop were I to tell thee who thou art.
PHORKYAS
First do thou name thyself; the riddle then is solved.
HELENA
Not wrathful, but in grief, step I between you now,
Forbidding such alternate quarrel’s angry noise;
For to the ruler naught more hurtful can befall,
Than, ‘mong his trusty servants, sworn and secret strife;
The echo of his mandate then to him no more
In swift accomplished deed responsively returns;
No, stormful and self-will’d, it rages him around,
The self-bewilder’d one, and chiding still in vain.
Nor this alone; ye have in rude unmanner’d wrath
Unblessèd images of dreadful shapes evoked,
Which so encompass me, that whirl’d I feel myself
To Orcus down, despite these my ancestral fields.
Is it remembrance? Was it frenzy seized on me?
Was I all that? and am I? shall I henceforth be
The dread and phantom-shape of those town-wasting ones?
The maidens quail: but thou, the eldest, thou dost stand,
Calm and unmoved; speak, then, to me some word of sense!
PHORKYAS
Who of long years recalls the fortune manifold,
To him heaven’s highest favor seems at last a dream.
But thou, so highly favored, past all bound or goal,
Saw’st, in thy life-course, none but love-inflamèd men,
Kindled by impulse rash to boldest enterprise.
Theseus by passion stirred full early seized on thee,
A man of glorious form, and strong as Heracles.
HELENA
Forceful he bore me off, a ten-year slender roe,
And in Aphidnus’ keep shut me, in Attica.
PHORKYAS
But thence full soon set free, by Castor, Pollux too,
In marriage wast thou sought by chosen hero-band.
HELENA
Yet hath Patroclus, he, Pelides’ other self,
My secret favor won, as willingly I own.
PHORKYAS
But thee thy father hath to Menelaus wed,
Bold rover of the sea, and house-sustainer too.
HELENA
His daughter gave he, gave to him the kingdom’s sway;
And from our wedded union sprang Hermione.
PHORKYAS
But while he strove afar, for Crete, his heritage,
To thee, all lonely, came an all too beauteous guest.
HELENA
Wherefore the time recall of that half-widowhood,
And what destruction dire to me therefrom hath grown!
PHORKYAS
That voyage unto me, a free-born dame of Crete,
Hath also capture brought, and weary servitude.
HELENA
As stewardess forthwith, he did appoint thee here,
With much intrusted,—fort and treasure boldly won.
PHORKYAS
All which thou didst forsake, by Ilion’s tower-girt town
Allured, and by the joys, the exhaustless joys of love.
HELENA
Remind me not of joys: No, an infinitude
Of all too bitter woe o’erwhelm’d my heart and brain.
PHORKYAS
Nathless ’tis said thou didst in two-fold shape appear;
Seen within Ilion’s walls, and seen in Egypt too.
HELENA
Confuse thou not my brain, distraught and desolate!
Here even, who I am in sooth I cannot tell.
PHORKYAS
‘Tis also said, from out the hollow shadow-dream,
Achilles, passion-fired, hath joined himself to thee,
Whom he hath loved of old, ‘gainst all resolves of Fate.
HELENA
As phantom I myself, to him a phantom bound;
A dream it was—thus e’en the very words declare.
I faint, and to myself a phantom I become.
[She sinks into the arms of the semi-chorus._]
CHORUS
Silence! Silence!
False seeing one, false speaking one, thou!
Through thy horrible, single-tooth’d lips,
Ghastly, what exhaleth
From such terrible loathsome gulf!
For the malignant one, kindliness feigning,
Rage of wolf ‘neath the sheep’s woolly fleece,
Far more terrible is unto me than
Jaws of the hound three-headed.
Anxiously watching stand we here:
When? How? Where of such malice
Bursteth the tempest
From this deep-lurking brood of Hell?
Now, ‘stead of friendly words, freighted with comfort,
Lethe-bestowing, gracious and mild,
Thou art summoning from times departed,
Thoughts of the past most hateful,
Overshadowing not alone
All sheen gilding the present,
Also the future’s
Mildly glimmering light of hope.
Silence! Silence!
That fair Helena’s soul,
Ready e’en now to take flight,
Still may keep, yea firmly keep
The form of all forms, the loveliest,
Ever illumined of old by the sun.
[HELENA has revived, and again stands in the midst.]
* * * * *