To drink a certain brown potation out.
Faust.
It seems ’tis your delight to play the scout.
Mephistopheles.
Omniscient am I not; but many things I know.
Faust.
If, in that moment’s wild confusion,
A well-known tone of blithesome youth
Had power, by memory’s dear delusion,
To cheat me with the guise of truth;
Then curse I all whate’er the soul
With luring juggleries entwines,
And in this gloomy dungeon-hole
With dazzling flatteries confines!
Curst be ’fore all the high opinion
The soul has of its own dominion!
Curst all the show of shallow seeming,
Through gates of sense fallacious streaming!
Curst be the hollow dreams of fame,
Of honor, glory, and a name!
Curst be the flattering goods of earth,
Wife, child, and servant, house and hearth!
Accursed be Mammon, when with treasures
To riskful venture he invites us,
Curst when, the slaves of passive pleasures,
On soft-spread cushions he delights us!
Curst be the balsam juice o’ the grape!
Accursed be love’s deceitful thrall!
Accursed be Hope! accursed be Faith!
Accursed be Patience above all!
Chorus of Spirits. [invisible]
Woe! woe!
Thou hast destroyed it!
The beautiful world,
With mightiest hand,
A demigod
In ruin has hurled!
We weep,
And bear its wrecked beauty away,
Whence it may never
Return to the day.
Mightiest one
Of the sons of earth,
Brightest one,
Build it again!
Proudly resurgent with lovelier birth
In thine own bosom build it again!
Life’s glad career
Anew commence
With insight clear,
