LIVIA.

No, lady.

JUSTINA.

I saw him.

LISANDER.

'Tis impossible; the doors

Which led to this apartment were all locked.

LIVIA (aside.)

I dare say it was Moscon whom she saw,
For he was locked up in my room.

LISANDER.

It must

Have been some image of thy phantasy.
Such melancholy as thou feedest is
Skilful in forming such in the vain air

Out of the motes and atoms of the day.

LIVIA.

My master's in the right.

JUSTINA.

Oh, would it were

Delusion! but I fear some greater ill.
I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom
My heart was torn in fragments; ay,

Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame ;
So potent was the charm, that had not God
Shielded my humble innocence from wrong,
I should have sought my sorrow and my shame

With willing steps.-Livia, quick, bring my cloak,
For I must seek refuge from these extremes
Even in the temple of the highest God
Which secretly the faithful worship.

Here.

LIVIA.

JUSTINA (putting on her cloak.)

In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I Quench the consuming fire in which I burn, Wasting away!

LISANDER.

And I will go with thee.

LIVIA.

When I once see them safe out of the house,

I shall breathe freely.

JUSTINA

So do I confide

In thy just favour, Heaven!

LISANDER.

Let us go.

JUSTINA.

Thine is the cause, great God! Turn, for

And for thine own, mercifully to me!

SCENES

FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE.

PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN.

The LORD and the Host of Heaven.

Enter Three Archangels.

RAPHAEL.

THE sun makes music as of old
Amid the rival spheres of Heaven,
On its predestined circle rolled

With thunder speed: the Angels even
Draw strength from gazing on its glance,
Though none its meaning fathom may ;—
The world's unwithered countenance
Is bright as at creation's day.

GABRIEL.

And swift and swift, with rapid lightness,
The adorned Earth spins silently,
Alternating Elysian brightness

With deep and dreadful night; the sea
Foams in broad billows from the deep
Up to the rocks; and rocks and ocean,
Onward, with spheres which never sleep,
Are hurried in eternal motion.

MICHAEL.

And tempests in contention roar

From land to sea, from sea to land; And, raging, weave a chain of power Which girds the earth as with a band. A flashing desolation there

Flames before the thunder's way; But thy servants, Lord, revere

The gentle changes of thy day.

CHORUS OF THE THREE.

The Angels draw strength from thy glance,
Though no one comprehend thee may :-
Thy world's unwithered countenance
Is bright as on creation's day.*

RAPHAEL.

The sun sounds, according to ancient custom,
In the song of emulation of his brother-spheres,
And its fore-written circle

Fulfils with a step of thunder.

Its countenance gives the Angels strength,

Though no one can fathom it.

The incredible high works

Are excellent as at the first day.

GAERIAL.

And swift, and inconceivably swift

The adornment of earth winds itself round,

And exchanges Paradise-clearness

With deep dreadful night.

The sen foams in broad waves

From its deep bottom up to the rocks,
And rocks and sea are torn on together
In the eternal swift course of the spheres.

Enter MEPHISTOPHELES.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enough
To interest thyself in our affairs—

And ask, "How goes it with you there below?"
And as indulgently at other times

Thou tookedst not my visits in ill part,

Thou seest me here once more among thy household.

Though I should scandalize this company,

You will excuse me if I do not talk

In the high style which they think fashionable;

MICHAEL.

And storms roar in emulation
From sea to land from land to sea,
And make, raging, a chain
Of deepest operation round about.
There flames a flashing destruction
Before the path of the thunderbolt.
But thy servants, Lord, revere
The gentle alternations of thy day.

CHORUS.

Thy countenance gives the Angels strength,
Though none can comprehend thee:

And all thy lofty works

Are excellent as at the first day.

Such is the literal translation of this astonishing Chorus; it is impossible to represent in another language the melody of the versification; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised to find a caput mortuum.-Author's Note.