Instead of standing here to overbrim
With fine ecstatic rapture to the trees,
Methinks the mighty gentleman might please
To drop some words of fond regard, to ease
The sweet young chick who droops and pines for him.
Poor thing, she is half dead of ennui,
And at the window stands whole hours, to see
The clouds pass by the old town-wall along.
Were I a little bird! so goes her song
The live-long day, and half the night to boot.
Sometimes she will be merry, mostly sad,
Now, like a child, weeping her sorrows out,
Now calm again to look at, never glad;
Always in love.
Faust.
Thou snake! thou snake!
Mephistopheles. [to himself]
So be it! that my guile thy stubborn will may break!
Faust.
Hence and begone, thou son of filth and fire!
Name not the lovely maid again!
Bring not that overmastering desire
Once more to tempt my poor bewildered brain!
Mephistopheles.
What then? she deems that you are gone forever;
And half and half methinks you are.
Faust.
No! I am nigh, and were I ne’er so far,
I could forget her, I could lose her never;
I envy ev’n the body of the Lord,
When on the sacred cake her lips she closes.
Mephistopheles.
Yes! to be honest, and confess my sins,
I oft have envied thee the lovely twins
That have their fragrant pasture among roses.
Faust.
Avaunt, thou pimp!
Mephistopheles.
Rail you, and I will laugh;
The God who made the human stuff
