His lofty step,
His noble height,
His smile of sweetness,
His eye of might,
His words of magic,
Breathing bliss,
His hand's warm pressure
And ah!
His noble height,
His smile of sweetness,
His eye of might,
His words of magic,
Breathing bliss,
His hand's warm pressure
And ah!
Faust, a Tragedy by Goethe
how it seethes again and glows!
Go in and comfort her, thou dunce!
Where such a dolt no outlet sees or knows,
He thinks he's reached the end at once.
None but the brave deserve the fair!
Thou _hast_ had devil enough to make a decent show of.
For all the world a devil in despair
Is just the insipidest thing I know of.
MARGERY'S ROOM.
MARGERY [_at the spinning-wheel alone_].
My heart is heavy,
My peace is o'er;
I never--ah! never--
Shall find it more.
While him I crave,
Each place is the grave,
The world is all
Turned into gall.
My wretched brain
Has lost its wits,
My wretched sense
Is all in bits.
My heart is heavy,
My peace is o'er;
I never--ah! never--
Shall find it more.
Him only to greet, I
The street look down,
Him only to meet, I
Roam through town.
His lofty step,
His noble height,
His smile of sweetness,
His eye of might,
His words of magic,
Breathing bliss,
His hand's warm pressure
And ah! his kiss.
My heart is heavy,
My peace is o'er,
I never--ah! never--
Shall find it more.
My bosom yearns
To behold him again.
Ah, could I find him
That best of men!
I'd tell him then
How I did miss him,
And kiss him
As much as I could,
Die on his kisses
I surely should!
MARTHA'S GARDEN.
MARGARET. FAUST.
_Margaret_. Promise me, Henry.
_Faust_. What I can.
_Margaret_. How is it now with thy religion, say?
Go in and comfort her, thou dunce!
Where such a dolt no outlet sees or knows,
He thinks he's reached the end at once.
None but the brave deserve the fair!
Thou _hast_ had devil enough to make a decent show of.
For all the world a devil in despair
Is just the insipidest thing I know of.
MARGERY'S ROOM.
MARGERY [_at the spinning-wheel alone_].
My heart is heavy,
My peace is o'er;
I never--ah! never--
Shall find it more.
While him I crave,
Each place is the grave,
The world is all
Turned into gall.
My wretched brain
Has lost its wits,
My wretched sense
Is all in bits.
My heart is heavy,
My peace is o'er;
I never--ah! never--
Shall find it more.
Him only to greet, I
The street look down,
Him only to meet, I
Roam through town.
His lofty step,
His noble height,
His smile of sweetness,
His eye of might,
His words of magic,
Breathing bliss,
His hand's warm pressure
And ah! his kiss.
My heart is heavy,
My peace is o'er,
I never--ah! never--
Shall find it more.
My bosom yearns
To behold him again.
Ah, could I find him
That best of men!
I'd tell him then
How I did miss him,
And kiss him
As much as I could,
Die on his kisses
I surely should!
MARTHA'S GARDEN.
MARGARET. FAUST.
_Margaret_. Promise me, Henry.
_Faust_. What I can.
_Margaret_. How is it now with thy religion, say?
