LIVIA (aside). I dare say it was Moscon whom she saw, LISANDER. It must Have been some image of thy phantasy. My master's in the right. LIVIA. JUSTINA. Oh, would it were Delusion! but I fear some greater ill. I should have sought my sorrow and my shame LIVIA. Here. 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, JUSTINA. So do I confide In thy just favour, Heaven! LISANDER. Let us go. JUSTINA. Thine is the cause, great God! Turn, for my sake 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, 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 Flames before the thunder's way; 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, The incredible high works Are excellent as at the first day. GABRIEL. And swift, and inconceivably swift The adornment of earth winds itself round, And exchanges Paradise-clearness With deep dreadful night. The sea 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. MICHAEL. And storms roar in emulation From sea to land, from land to sea, 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; A little better would he live, hadst thou 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. |