Faust. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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СКАЧАТЬ Death!–I know it–‘tis my Famulus!

      My fairest luck finds no fruition:

      In all the fullness of my vision

      The soulless sneak disturbs me thus!

      (Enter WAGNER,in dressing-gown and night-cap, a lamp in

      his hand. FAUST turns impatiently.)

      WAGNER

      Pardon, I heard your declamation;

      ‘Twas sure an old Greek tragedy you read?

      In such an art I crave some preparation,

      Since now it stands one in good stead.

      I’ve often heard it said, a preacher

      Might learn, with a comedian for a teacher.

      FAUST

      Yes, when the priest comedian is by nature,

      As haply now and then the case may be.

      WAGNER

      Ah, when one studies thus, a prisoned creature,

      That scarce the world on holidays can see,–

      Scarce through a glass, by rare occasion,

      How shall one lead it by persuasion?

      FAUST

      You’ll ne’er attain it, save you know the feeling,

      Save from the soul it rises clear,

      Serene in primal strength, compelling

      The hearts and minds of all who hear.

      You sit forever gluing, patching;

      You cook the scraps from others’ fare;

      And from your heap of ashes hatching

      A starveling flame, ye blow it bare!

      Take children’s, monkeys’ gaze admiring,

      If such your taste, and be content;

      But ne’er from heart to heart you’ll speak inspiring,

      Save your own heart is eloquent!

      WAGNER

      Yet through delivery orators succeed;

      I feel that I am far behind, indeed.

      FAUST

      Seek thou the honest recompense!

      Beware, a tinkling fool to be!

      With little art, clear wit and sense

      Suggest their own delivery;

      And if thou’rt moved to speak in earnest,

      What need, that after words thou yearnest?

      Yes, your discourses, with their glittering show,

      Where ye for men twist shredded thought like paper,

      Are unrefreshing as the winds that blow

      The rustling leaves through chill autumnal vapor!

      WAGNER

      Ah, God! but Art is long,

      And Life, alas! is fleeting.

      And oft, with zeal my critic-duties meeting,

      In head and breast there’s something wrong.

      How hard it is to compass the assistance

      Whereby one rises to the source!

      And, haply, ere one travels half the course

      Must the poor devil quit existence.

      FAUST

      Is parchment, then, the holy fount before thee,

      A draught wherefrom thy thirst forever slakes?

      No true refreshment can restore thee,

      Save what from thine own soul spontaneous breaks.

      WAGNER

      Pardon! a great delight is granted

      When, in the spirit of the ages planted,

      We mark how, ere our times, a sage has thought,

      And then, how far his work, and grandly, we have brought.

      FAUST

      O yes, up to the stars at last!

      Listen, my friend: the ages that are past

      Are now a book with seven seals protected:

      What you the Spirit of the Ages call

      Is nothing but the spirit of you all,

      Wherein the Ages are reflected.

      So, oftentimes, you miserably mar it!

      At the first glance who sees it runs away.

      An offal-barrel and a lumber-garret,

      Or, at the best, a Punch-and-Judy play,

      With maxims most pragmatical and hitting,

      As in the mouths of puppets are befitting!

      WAGNER

      But then, the world–the human heart and brain!

      Of these one covets some slight apprehension.

      FAUST

      Yes, of the kind which men attain!

      Who dares the child’s true name in public mention?

      The few, who thereof something really learned,

      Unwisely frank, with hearts that spurned concealing,

      And to the mob laid bare each thought and feeling,

      Have evermore been crucified and burned.

      I pray you, Friend, ‘tis now the dead of night;

      Our СКАЧАТЬ