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, LISANDER. It must Have been some image of thy phantasy. 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. Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame ; With willing steps.-Livia, quick, bring my cloak, 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 With thunder speed: the Angels even GABRIEL. And swift and swift, with rapid lightness, With deep and dreadful night; the sea 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, RAPHAEL. The sun sounds, according to ancient custom, 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, Enter MEPHISTOPHELES. MEPHISTOPHELES. As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enough And ask, "How goes it with you there below?" 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 CHORUS. Thy countenance gives the Angels strength, 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. |