Two travellers here stand much in need of thee;
Why should’st thou waste thy flickering flame in vain?
Pray be so good as light us up the hill!
Will-o-the-Wisp.
Out of respect to you, I will restrain,
If possible, my ever-shifting will;
But all our natural genius, and our skill
Is zigzag; straight lines go against the grain.
Mephistopheles.
Ha! ha! hast learned from men how to declaim?
March on, I tell thee, in the Devil’s name!
Else will I blow thy flickering life-spark out.
Will-o-the-Wisp.
You are the master of the house, no doubt,
And therefore I obey you cheerfully.
Only remember! ’tis the first of May,
The Brocken is as mad as mad can be;
And when an ignis fatuus leads the way,
You have yourselves to blame, if you should stray.
Faust, Mephistopheles, and Will-o-the-Wisp. [in reciprocal song]
Through the realms of fairy dreaming,
Through the air with magic teeming,
Guide us forward, guide us fairly,
Thanks to thee be rendered rarely;
Guide us quick, and guide us sure,
O’er the wide waste Brocken moor.
Trees on trees thick massed before us
Flit, and fling dark shadows o’er us,
Cliffs on cliffs in rugged masses
Nod above the narrow passes,
And each rock from jagged nose,
How it snorts, and how it blows!
Over turf and stones are pouring
Stream and streamlet, wildly roaring;
Is it rustling? is it singing?
Love’s sweet plaint with gentle winging!
Voices of those days, the dearest,
When our light of hope was clearest!
And the echo, like the sounds
Of ancient story, back rebounds.
