Bessy.

And can it be,

That you can pity her !—when such as we
Were at the spinning-wheel, our mothers ne'er
Let us go down by night;-but she stood there,
Fondling and toying with her darling fair,

In the dark passage, on the doorway seat,
Thinking that every hour went by too fleet,
Now she will have a bringing down most rare;
She must at church do penance in a sheet !
Marg. Perchance he'll marry her!

Bessy.

A fool were he !

To a brisk young fellow, all the world is free ;

Besides, he 's off and gone!

Marg.

That is not right.

Bessy. E'en should she get him, she 's in evil plight; The boys will tear her garland—and yet more,

We'll bring cut straw, and spread it at her door.

[Exit.

Marg. (going to the house). How bitterly I once could

rail,

If a poor maiden chanced to fail!

Not words enough my tongue could frame

When speaking of another's shame ;

How black it seem'd! and then, howe'er

I strove to darken it, it ne'er

Seem'd black enough. So proud was I,
I bless'd myself, and walk'd so high ;
And now myself I feel within

The sense that I am prey to sin;

Yet, everything that to it drove

Seem'd naught of guilt! Ah! all was love!

RECESS.

In a niche of the wall, a devotional image of the Mater Dolorosa; pots of flowers before it.

MARGARET sets fresh flowers in the pots.

Marg. Mother of many sorrows! deign, oh deign!
To turn thy face with pity on my pain !

The sword hath enter'd in thy heart,
Thou of a thousand pangs hast part;
Thou lookest up, thou gazest on
The death of HIм who was thy son !

Thy gaze doth to the Father rise,

And to his throne;

Thou for His grief dost breathe thy sighs,
And for thine own!

Who feels-who knows-

How fiercely glows

The torment that doth pierce me to the bone?

How my poor heart, in throbbing, burns ;

Ah! how it trembles, how it yearns,

Thou knowest-and but thou alone!

Where'er-where'er I go,

What woe, what woe, what woe

Within my bosom here-is stirring, waking!

Alas! alas! now scarce alone am I;

I weep, I weep, ah! bitterly I cry ;

My heart, my very heart is in me breaking.

The flower-pots at my window
Were wet with my tears like dew,
As I in the early morning

Gather'd these flowers for you.

Help! save me from disgrace and death!-incline, Mother of many sorrows! turn thy glance,

Thy pitying countenance,

Upon this anguish and distress of mine!

NIGHT. THE STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR.

VALENTINE (a soldier, MARGARET's brother ).

Val. When I sat 'mid a company
Where every one to boast is free,
And each companion loudly said
The praises of his favourite maid;
Each, with a brimming glass, his own
Loud commendations washing down;

My elbow on the table—I

- Sat quiet in security,
And confidently listening

To all their boasts and swaggering;
Then, smiling, stroked my beard, and placed
A brimming goblet in my hand,

Saying, "To every one his taste,

But can a maid in all the land

With my dear little Margaret stand,
Or hold a candle to her ?" So

Kling, Klang,-round went it merrily;
And some would shout, “He's right, I know ;
The pearl of all her sex is she;"
Then all the boasters silent were,
And now!-Oh! I could rend my hair
Out by the roots, and rushing go
Against the walls myself to throw !
With sneering speech and lifted nose
Each churl will mock me as he goes,
While I must like a bankrupt sit,
At every chance-dropp'd word to sweat ;
And could I crush them in my ire,

Yet could I never call them liar!

Who is 't comes here? who's slinking hither ?
Unless I err, there's two together.

If it is he, I'll at him drive ;

He shall not leave the spot alive!

FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES enter.

Faust. How, through the window of the sacristy, The eternal taper's light doth outward gleam! Fainter and fainter grows its sidelong beam, Till darkness closes round it utterly! So seems it as if all were night in me.

Meph. And I feel like a cat that amorously
Creeps up the fire-ladders, and doth trace
Around the walls with sly and stealthy pace;
Yet very virtuously, ne'ertheless,

A spice of thief-like joy, a little wantonness!
So thrills already through each limb and vein

The glorious May-day night, that comes again
The day succeeding to the morrow ;—there
One knows for what the vigil doth prepare.
Faust. Meanwhile is that the treasure rising-I
Can in the distance by its light descry?
Meph. The pleasure may full soon be thine
To raise the casket from its shrine;
I lately glanced upon the hoard-
Good lion-dollars are within it stored.
Faust. And not a trinket-not a ring
Wherewith to deck my lovely girl?
Meph. I saw within it some such thing;
A kind of band or string of pearl!
Faust. 'Tis well! if I my loved one see
Without a gift, it grieveth me.

Meph. Yet ought it not your mind annoy,

Some pleasure gratis to enjoy!

While shine the stars the heavens along,

A very masterpiece I'll play her;
I'll sing her quite a moral song,
The better to betray her!

66 Why art thou, Catherine, before
The threshold of thy lover's door
Thus by the dawn of day?

[He sings to the guitar.

A maid he'll let thee in ;-but ne'er
From thence departing wilt thou e'er
A maiden go away!

"Beware, beware! when the delight
Is past and o'er-good night, good night,
Poor simple, trusting thing!

If thou dost love thyself-ne'er bless
The spoiler with thy love, unless

Thy finger bears the ring."

Val. (comes forward). Thou cursed rat-catcher! who

art thou

L