What place of martyrdom is this? what life
Is this to lead! or can you call it life,
Wearying yourself and pupils thus for ever?
Afraid, even in a hint, to intimate
Your best acquirements to the boys who
crowd

Your lecture-room; even now upon the

stairs

I hear the foot of one.

Fa. Impossible; I cannot see him now. Meph. The poor lad has been waiting a long while;

We should not let him go without some

notice;

Come now, let me put on your cap and gown, This masquerade dress becomes me charmingly,

In a few minutes I'll have done with him; Meanwhile, go you, get ready for our jour. ney! [FAUSTUS exit. Meph. (In Faustus's long gown.) Aye,

thus continue to contemn
Reason and learning, man's best powers;
And every hope he can inherit,
Still speak despisingly of them,
Heart-hardened by an evil spirit ;
Soul and senses in confusion,
Mocked by magical delusion;
Still indulge thy vain derision!
Mine thou art, without condition!
His is an eager restless mind,
That presses forward unconfined;
And, in the anticipation
Of a brisk imagination;
Ever active, still outmeasures
The slow steps of earthly pleasures:
Him, thro' the world's wild vanity,
Its wearisome inanity

Now, I mean to bring with me;
In these new scenes he will resemble
A child; will totter, stop, and tremble,
And for support will cling to me!
Meats and wines, unsatisfying,
Shall before his lips be flying;
He seeks repose, in vain, in vain,
Repose he never shall obtain ;

And though he had not sold it to the devil,
A soul, like his, could not escape from evil.

The student enters, but after a little conversation with the supposed Faustus, on the subject of his future studies, he feels dispirited, and when Mephistopheles congratulates him on the opportunities before him of pursuing knowledge, he says, with a natural sigh

And yet, if I the truth may say,
I would I were again away;
Walls like these, and halls like these,
Will, I fear, in no wise please!
The narrow gloom of this cold room,
Where nothing green is ever seen;
No lawn-no tree-no floweret's bloom-
'Mong benches, books, my heart is sinking,
And my wasted senses shrinking-
I mourn the hour that I came hither,
Ear, and eye, and heart will die,
VOL. VII.

Much dissipated and divided.

Stu. With soul and strength will I apply, But now and then could seize with pleasure A few short hours of idle leisure, A little thoughtless liberty;

A pleasant summer holiday,

When skies are bright, and fields are gay. Meph. Use TIME with wisdom-fast flies time from thee,

But by strict order thou may'st conquer him! For this to Logic first, my friend, Would I advise thee to attend ;

Thus will your mind, well-trained, and
high,

In Spanish boots stalk pompously!
With solemn look, and sober pace,
The beaten road of thought will trace;
Nor here and there, thro' paths oblique,
In devious wanderings idly strike;
Then in long lessons are you taught,
That in the processes of thought,
Which hitherto unmarked had gone,
Like eating, and like drinking, on;
One, Two, and Three, the guide must be
In things which were till now so free.
But, as the weaver's work is wrought,
Even so is formed the web of thought;
One movement leads a thousand threads;
Unseen they move, as now above

The shuttle darts, and now darts under;
And, with one blow, at once will go

A thousand binding ties asunder.
And thus with your philosopher
Who teaches wisely to infer-
The first was so the second so---
Then must the third and fourth be so-
And if the premises be hollow

That the conclusion will not follow.
Such things charm students every where,
But none is a philosopher-
For he, who seeks to learn, or gives
Descriptions of a thing, that lives,
Begins with " murdering, to dissect,"
The lifeless parts he may inspect-
The limbs are there beneath his knife,
And all-but that, which gave them life!
21

When you have learned to arrange, and classify,

And body all you hear in syllogisms.

Stu. My brain is stupified-I feel As if, within my head, a wheel Was whirling round with ceaseless reel. This confusion of the student is not lessened in the course of the conversation-Mephistopheles speaks in the same confident, assuming, and perplexing style, of metaphysics and divinity-affecting to point out their advantages, while he is suggesting by

his sarcastic manner more than doubts of their utility, into the mind of the wondering student. Our lecturer, however, gets tired of the serious tone, and when he comes to speak of medicine, he treats it, or rather its professors, with more malicious and devilish ridicule, than the other studies of which he has been speaking-we are sorry we have not left ourselves room for this part of his lecture. The student is lost in admiration of his learning, but as might be expected, quite confused after this lesson, of which he does not know what to make. The interview closes by the student's requesting him to write a sentence in his Album. (Stammbuch,) Mephistopheles complies, and writes

Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil."

The student retires-Faustus enters, drest for his journey-inquires how they are to travel, and is informed, that by the assistance of Mephistopheles's mantle, and some preparation of fire which he has ready for the purpose, they will be enabled to move easily through the air.-They first go to Leipsic, and witness the drinking and singing of a dissipated party in tavern-Mephistopheles becomes quite gay-sings for them, and at last proposes to supply them with better wine than what they are engaged in discussing. While, however, they are enjoying the various wines which he astonishes them by producing, one unluckily spills his glass, and the liquor, as it falls to the ground, is observed to sparkle like fire-the char

acter of the new guest is now suspected, but he, who derives much amusement from their confusion, recites a charm, on which they lose altogether the faculties, which, even before this juggling, were pretty well clouded. They imagine themselves in a vineyard, each mistakes his neighbour's nose for a cluster of grapes, and has a knife raised, about to cut it off, when Mephistopheles removes the delusion, and lets them see their danger. This story, which we do not much admire here, is told with amusing gravity by Camerarius, in his historical meditations, and the reader is solemnly warned against the danger of keeping company with the devil.

The next scene is a witch's kitchen.

[On a low hearth a large cauldron is seen on the fire-in the thick smoke are discovered several strange figures—▲ FEMALE CAT-APE is sitting beside the caul. dron, to skim it, and take care it does not boil over. An OLD MALE CAT-APE, with his children, sits near, warming himself-strange articles of furniture, suitable to the place, seen hanging from the walls, &c.]

FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHELES. Fa. This senseless witchcraft sickens and disgusts me,

And say'st thou that I shall recruit life's

life?

Meph. Now do I recognize my friend's Yes! there are also natural means by which good senseLife's bloom and vigour may be long preserved,

But in a different book this lesson lies,
And it forms a strange chapter.
Fa. I will learn it-

Meph. There is a means, and it requires
not gold,

Magic or medicine;-away with you
Into the fields-begin to hew and delve-
Confine yourself, and limit every wish
Within a narrow circle-feed upon
Meats, simple, undisguised-and live, in
short,

Beast-like, 'mong beasts-deem it no degradation,

Fa. By heaven, she is a lovely child,

A fairer never met my eye, Modest she seems, and good and mild, Though something pert was her reply

The red lips bright-the cheek's
soft light-

My youth hath not departed quite!
She past, her timid eyes declining,
Deep in my heart they still are
shining-

The beauty of her neat array

Hath stolen me from myself away! Mephistopheles enters, and is informed of Faustus's new passion. He endeavours, or affects to dissuade him from pursuing the adventure farther: he tells him of Margaret's extreme youth—almost childhood,-of her innocence and piety. She has just, he says, returned from confession; and he who had stood unseen near the priest says, that she has gone from feelings of devotion, not from the necessity of obtaining absolution for past sins. Faustus, however, persists, and he gives directions to Mephistopheles to procure some costly ornaments for her. These are easily got, and Faustus is introduced into Margaret's chamber by his friend. It is a small room of a poor dwelling; but the extreme neatness with which its little furniture and few ornaments are arranged, makes Faustus reflect on the misery he is about to create, and he almost repents. He dwells on the piety of this happy child, and fears to introduce into this humble abode the passions and vices which are distracting his own bosom. His companion now laughs at his inconsistency, and Faustus leaves in her room the ornaments-They depart on seeing her approach. Her thoughts are still engaged with the gay nobleman who had taken such notice of her

in the morning. To while away her melancholy, she begins singing an old ballad, when the casket which Faustus left attracts her eye.

How came this brilliant casket here?-
I locked the box, I'd almost swear.
The cover's beautiful-I wonder
What it may be that lies under ?
I should conjecture it to be
A pledge and a security,
Left by somebody or other

For money, borrowed from my mother.
I think I'll open it,-and, see!
Attached to it, and tempting me,
A ribbon with a little key.

Good heaven! how beautiful it is!
I've never seen the like of this!

Jewels and pearls!-At mask or ball
'Twould grace the proudest dame of all,
Who glitter at high festival.

I wonder how 'twould look on me?
Whose can the glorious splendour be?

(She puts them on, and stands before the glass.)

Oh! if I had these ear-rings only!-
Drest thus, I seem a different creature!
What good are charms of form and feature?
Tho' poor maids are both mild and fair,
The world for ever leaves them lonely-
Man may praise,
Yet half he says,
Seems less like kindness than compassion-
For gold he strives,
For gold he drives
Alas! the poor are not in fashion!

In the next scene, Faustus is interrupted by the sudden entrance of Mephistopheles.

Meph. By love, which I contemn, and hell's

Essence of fire, things can't be worse: Oh! that I could be something else

A

Than what I am, that I might curse! Fa. What ails thee now? What pinches thee so sore?

face like that I never saw before! Meph. I'd damn myself to everlasting evil,

But that

I am myself the devil! Think, only think, that splendid set Of pearls, procured for Margaret With so much toil, a priest has got 'em, Away in eager haste he brought 'em : The mother, soon as she detected The old hag o'er her book of prayer The treasure, something wrong suspected— Sits moping, mumbling, snuffling there, Or, as she has so good a nose, Exploring through the house she goes, And, by the smell can ascertain What is holy, what profane. Curse her! she smelt no good event From Margaret's rich ornament:

My child,' she said, things thus unholy Are suited not for one so lowly,

Will seize and fasten on the heart,

And hold it till health, peace, depart.
With pious feeling be it given
To Mary, maiden queen of Heaven;
The offering will she requite

With manna, to our heart's delight.'

Faustus, however, has the satisfaction of learning, that the purpose for which the present was made has been, in some degree, effected. Margaret, already captivated by the splendour of the ornaments, complains bitterly (he is told) of her mother's cruelty, and cannot think otherwise than favourably of the unknown admirer to whom she is indebted for the gift; for there can be no longer any doubt for whom the casket was intended. Faustus or

ders another casket of more brilliant ornaments, and the heart of the poor girl is seduced by the vanity of dress, which she is afraid to exhibit before any one but an old woman, (Martha) whose folly and cunning render her a willing and useful assistant in Margaret's ruin. We have dwelt so long on the earlier parts of this tragedy, as to render it impossible to quote much from the affecting scenes in which this story of overpowering distress is told; but it is the less necessary, as many of these scenes have been rendered familiar by Madame de Stael's most beautiful translation. There is one story in our own language-a tale of deeper distress, and told, perhaps, more affectingly-for the author was enabled, by the different form of his work, to express the feelings which Goethe could only suggest-we mean the story of Rosamund Gray, by Charles Lamb. We were so strongly reminded of it by the passages before us, that we could not forgive ourselves for not mentioning it, though we have only time for a passing sentence. After some scenes of courtship between Faustus and his mistress, and also between Martha and Mephistopheles, whose heart she endeavours to win, having first procured from him a certificate of her husband's death abroad, we find Faustus alone in the depths of a wood. We transcribe his soliloquy.

Yes! lofty spirit, thou hast given me all, All that I asked of thee; and not in vain Thy fiery countenance hast turned on me! -Hast given me empire o'er majestic nature,

Power to enjoy and feel. 'Twas not alone
The stranger's short permitted privilege
Of momentary wonder, that thou gavest;
No; thou hast given me into her deep
breast

As into a friend's secret heart to look ;
Hast brought to me the tribes of living

wood,

The pale bright shadows of the ancient times
Before me seem to move, and mitigate
The too severe delight of earnest thought!-
Alas! even now I feel MAN's joys must be
Imperfect ever,-with these rapturous
thoughts,

That raise me near and nearer to the gods,
Was linked this insupportable companion.
To make me to myself contemptible;
Cold, insolent, malicious, he contrives
And with a breath will scatter into nothing
All these high gifts; with what officious zeal
He fans my breast into a raging flame
Of passion, to possess each form of beauty
That wins my eye. Thus, from desire I pass
On to enjoyment, and, uneasy still,
Even in enjoyment languish for desire!

His tormentor does not leave him

long to himself; and when he sneers, in his usual tone, at Faustus's indulgence of solitary thought, he provokes his anger. Mephistopheles replies to the accusation of embittering Faustus's life by his constant interruptions and perpetual sarcasms:Poor child of earth! and couldst thou then Thy life till now without my aid ? 'Twas I

I

have borne

guarded thee with long and anxious care, That saved thee from imaginations idle ! And, but for me, even now thou wouldst

have been