Around my head—and from the vaulted roof
Falls a cold shudder down,
And grips me!—I feel
Thou hover’st near me, conjured Spirit, now;
Reveal thee!
Ha! how swells with wild delight
My bursting heart!
And feelings, strange and new,
At once through all my ravished senses dart!
I feel my inmost soul made thrall to thee!
Thou must! thou must! and were my life the fee!
[He seizes the book, and pronounces with a mysterious air the sign of the Spirit. A red flame darts forth, and the Spirit appears in the flame.
Spirit.
Who calls me?
Faust. [turning away]
Vision of affright!
Spirit.
Thou hast with mighty spell invoked me,
And to obey thy call provoked me,
And now—
Faust.
Hence from my sight!
Spirit.
Thy panting prayer besought my might to view,
To hear my voice, and know my semblance too;
Now bending from my native sphere to please thee,
Here am I!—ha! what pitiful terrors seize thee,
And overman thee quite! where now the call
Of that proud soul, that scorned to own the thrall
Of earth, a world within itself created,
And bore and cherished? that with its fellows sated
Swelled with prophetic joy to leave its sphere,
And live a spirit with spirits, their rightful peer.
Where art thou, Faust? whose invocation rung
Upon mine ear, whose powers all round me clung?
Art thou that Faust? whom melts my breath away,
Trembling even to the life-depths of thy frame,
Like a poor worm that crawls into his clay!
Faust.
Shall I then yield to thee, thou thing of flame?
