Marg. Then you believe not !

Faust.

Do not misconceive!

Who dares name God, and say that "I believe?"

And who can feel—feel through each sense and thought, And yet affirm that "I believe him not?"

The All-embracer,

The All-sustainer,

Say, does he not support, include, embrace,

Thee, me, himself?

Doth not heaven arch itself, there, o'er our head?

Lies not the firm-set earth, beneath outspread?

The eternal stars, with friendly rays,

Do they not all for ever rise ?

And we ourselves, do we not gaze

E'en now into each other's

eyes

?

And is not every feeling thronging now

Through head and heart within thee-weaving still

Invisibly and visibly, around,

About thee in eternal mystery?

These, let thy heart absorb till it be full

And, in the feeling when thou'rt wholly blest,
Call it whate'er thou wilt-heart, love, or God,
Or happiness!—I cannot give it name;
Feeling is all in all-name is but sound,
Or smoke, o'er-shadowing with misty veil
The glow and warmth of heaven!

Marg. All that is very good, and true;
Nearly the same the priest says too,
Only in somewhat other words than you!

Faust. All hearts, in every clime and zone,
Where'er the light of heaven doth shine,
Speak forth that feeling—in the tone

And form and language most their own ;
Then wherefore should not I in mine ?

Marg. So taken it may pass; but yet-in spite
Of all, there's something in it is not right!

For thou hast got no Christianity!

Faust. Dear child!

Marg.

And long it has afflicted me,

How so?

To see thee in such company!

Faust.

Marg. The man whom thou hast always with thee

now,

I hate him from my inmost heart;

In all my life I ne'er did chance

On aught can such a pang impart
As his repulsive countenance !

Faust. Dear silly thing! you need not fear.
Marg. Whenever he is present here,
The sight of him chills all my blood:
Of almost everyone my thoughts are good;
But howsoe'er I long to meet with thee,
That man I with an innate horror see.
I hold him but a rogue besides,-in this
Heaven pardon me if I say aught amiss!

Faust. Yet that the world such oddities should give
Is necessary still.

With one like him ;-whene'er he cometh, he
Throws round him such a glance of mockery,
And scarcely hides the hate that in him lies;
You see he can with nothing sympathise.
It standeth written on his brow-he ne'er
Can love to any human being bear.
In thy embrace I feel so blest,

So happy when within thy arms, So unrestrain❜d-by naught represt,

My soul, to thee resign'd, so warms; But in his presence doth all this depart, He shuts and withers up my very heart. Faust. Misgiving angel!

Marg.

And this feeling weighs

So heavily upon my heart-so sore

That when by chance he but towards us strays,

I feel as if I loved e'en thee no more.

Where he would be I could not pray,
And that would eat my heart away.
And surely, Henri, it must be
The same when he is near, with thee!
Faust. You have a prejudice.

Marg.

I now must go.

Faust. And am I never, then, to know,

Upon thy bosom one calm hour of rest,—

To mingle soul with soul, strain breast to breast?
Marg. Ah, if I did alone but sleep,
I'd gladly leave the fastenings slight,
And open to you e'en to-night;
But mother's slumber ne'er is deep,

And were we found-I'm sure that I

Upon the very spot should die.

Faust. No need, my love, for that to fear;

I have a little phial here,—

Three drops but mingled in her drink

Will nature veil in pleasant sleep,

And so thy mother's eyes will sink

Into a slumber calm and deep.

Marg. What is there that I would not do for thee? But yet I hope it will not hurtful be!

Faust. If it were so, my love, would I Advise you such a thing to try?

Marg. Gazing on thee, I know not what doth still Impel me ever to perform your will;

I have already done so much for you,

Scarce anything is left me now to do.

MEPHISTOPHELES enters.

Meph. The monkey! is she gone?

Faust.

[Exit.

Hast spied again?

Meph. Why, all that pass'd, I heard it pretty plain.

You're catechised, sir Doctor! well,

I hope with good effect 'twill tell!
The girls have truly much concern
In doing all they can to learn,
Whether or not, in his belief, a man
With piety pursues the ancient plan;
For, if he bend submissively (think they)
In that, he'll yield to us the self-same way.
Faust. Thou monster! thou canst not perceive
How such a true and loving heart,

Full of the faith she doth believe

Alone can happiness impart,

Must tremble with a good and holy fear,

That she must deem as lost the man she holds most dear. Meph. Thou sensual dotard! by the nose thou 'rt led

How very knowing, too, she seems to be!
When I am by, she feels she knows not how,—
The girl in that some hidden sense doth show;

She feels I am a genius-and may be,

Perhaps the Devil himself.-This night, then,-we-
Faust. And what does it concern to you ?
Meph. I have my pleasure in it, too.

AT THE FOUNTAIN.

MARGARET and BESSY with pitchers.

Bessy. What, have you nothing, then, of Barbara heard? Marg. I go but little out; no, not a word.

Bessy. Sibylla told it me to-day ;

At last she's thrown herself away!
This comes of being still the best,
Stuck up in pride above the rest.
Marg. How so?

Bessy.

The worst is but too plain to view,

Now when she eats and drinks, she feedeth two.
Marg. Alas!

Bessy. She's rightly served! how long she's been
Fondling and hanging on the fellow seen!
And then, what walkings forth were there,
To village feast and dancing booth;
And she herself, must everywhere

Be thought the first of all, forsooth.
He treating her with cake and wine;
She thinking, too, herself so fine!
Upon her beauty still so vain ;
So shameless too, she 'd even deign

Take presents of him ;-then there still

Was kissing and embracing-till

The flower is gone!