_]
WALPURGIS NIGHT.
WALPURGIS NIGHT.
Faust, a Tragedy by Goethe
Woe's thee!
_Chorus_. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus?
Cum vix justus sit securus.
_Evil Spirit_. They turn their faces,
The glorified, from thee.
To take thy hand, the pure ones
Shudder with horror.
Woe!
_Chorus_. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
_Margery_. Neighbor! your phial! --
[_She swoons.
_]
WALPURGIS NIGHT. [32]
_Harz Mountains. _
_District of Schirke and Elend. _
FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.
_Mephistopheles_. Wouldst thou not like a broomstick, now, to ride on?
At this rate we are, still, a long way off;
I'd rather have a good tough goat, by half,
Than the best legs a man e'er set his pride on.
_Faust_. So long as I've a pair of good fresh legs to stride on,
Enough for me this knotty staff.
What use of shortening the way!
Following the valley's labyrinthine winding,
Then up this rock a pathway finding,
From which the spring leaps down in bubbling play,
That is what spices such a walk, I say!
Spring through the birch-tree's veins is flowing,
The very pine is feeling it;
Should not its influence set our limbs a-glowing?
_Mephistopheles_. I do not feel it, not a bit!
My wintry blood runs very slowly;
I wish my path were filled with frost and snow.
