FAUST.

With one impulse alone art thou acquainted;
Of knowledge of the other, oh! beware.
Two souls, alas! are in my bosom planted,
Each from the other strives itself to tear;
One to the coarse lusts of the flesh given o'er,

With grasping organs to the world clings fast;
The other, from the gloom strives hard to soar
Into the regions of the Great Ones past.
Oh! if between the heaven and earth there be
Spirits of power, hovering in the air,

Forth from your golden clouds descend on me,
Me to a newer brighter life to bear.
A magic mantle did I but possess,

O'er stranger distant lands unchecked to range,
Not for the garb of greatest costliness,
Even royal robes, would I that mantle change.

WAGNER.

Invoke not the familiar host that swarms, Everywhere spread throughout our atmosphere, Preparing dangers in a thousand forms,

For mortals from all quarters far and near. Forth from the North the sharp-toothed spirits press Upon you with their arrow-headed tongues,

Whilst from the East, in fiery parchedness,
They come to feed themselves upon your lungs.
If in the South, they from the desert burst,

Heap fire on fire upon thy head's hot crown;
Then brings the West the swarms, refreshing first
Thyself with fields and meadows but to drown;
They quickly hear, on mischief ever bent,
Gladly obey, betraying joyfully,

Assert themselves to be from heaven sent,
And lisp in angel accents when they lie.

But let us go; full grey the earth is grown,

The air is chill, the fog is coming down,
The house's value best at eve we prize,

Why standest thou so-what wonder in thine eyes?
What is it so interests thee in the gloaming?

FAUST.

Seest thou that black dog through corn and stubble roaming?

WAGNER.

Long since. Of small account he seems to me.

FAUST.

Mark him well. What takest thou the beast to be?

WAGNER.

A dog, who in the fashion of his kind,
Puzzles himself his master's track to find.

FAUST.

Dost thou observe what rings round us he makes Serpentine, how each circle brings him nigher? And if I nought mistake, a streak of fire Draws after him the path he takes.

WAGNER.

Nought but a great black poodle do I see,*
Some optical delusion it must be to thee.

FAUST.

Light, magic nooses, or a future snare,
It seems to me around our feet he draws.

WAGNER.

I see him puzzled, timid, jump round us, because 'Stead of his master here two strangers are.

* Literally, I see nothing but a black poodle. How many more, like Wagner, see nothing but a black poodle?

The cowslip by the river's brim,

A yellow cowslip was to him.

And it was nothing more.

FAUST.

The circle closes, he's already near.

WAGNER.

Thou seest no spectre, but a dog is here;

He growls and hesitates, he crouches on the ground, He wags his tail; these are the habits of the hound.

FAUST.

Join those our company.

Come here.

WAGNER.

It is in poodle fashion queer;

Stand thou still, he waits upon you;
Speak to him, and he jumps upon you.
Lose anything, and he to bring it again
Into the water jump after your cane.

FAUST.

You are right, there is no trace, I now see clearly, That marks a spirit; all was training merely.

WAGNER.

Even to a dog who is carefully trained,

A wise man well attached may

be;

And worthily he your favours has gained,

For the flower of the flock of your students is he. [They enter the gate of the town.

STUDY.

FAUST, entering with the Poodle.

From field and meadow I withdraw,

That Night's deep falling shadows steep,

With a foreboding holy awe

That wakes our better soul from sleep. Each wild desire is now at rest

With its tumultuous brood of deeds, The love of man first stirs the breast, And soon the love of God succeeds.

Poodle, be still-run not about!

What to the threshold draws thy nose? Behind the stove thy limbs stretch out,

On best cushion seek repose;

my

As out of doors thy gambols were
A pleasure to us on the hill,
Thou in return receive my care,

A welcome guest, but quiet still.

Ah, when within our narrow cell

The friendly lamp again doth burn, Then to the breast that knoweth well Itself, doth light again return.

H