No More Learning

In life's tide currents, in action's storm,
Up and down, like a wave,
Like the wind I sweep!
Cradle and grave--
A limitless deep---
An endless weaving
To and fro,
A restless heaving
Of life and glow,--
So shape I, on Destiny's thundering loom,
The Godhead's live garment, eternal in bloom.

_Faust_. Spirit that sweep'st the world from end to end,
How near, this hour, I feel myself to thee!

_Spirit_. Thou'rt like the spirit thou canst comprehend,
Not me! [_Vanishes. _]

_Faust_. [_Collapsing_. ] Not thee?
Whom then?
I, image of the Godhead,
And no peer for thee!
[_A knocking_. ]
O Death! I know it!
--'tis my Famulus--
Good-bye, ye dreams of bliss Elysian!
Shame! that so many a glowing vision
This dried-up sneak must scatter thus!

[WAGNER, _in sleeping-gown and night-cap, a lamp in his hand. _
FAUST _turns round with an annoyed look_. ]

_Wagner_. Excuse me! you're engaged in declamation;
'Twas a Greek tragedy no doubt you read?
I in this art should like initiation,
For nowadays it stands one well instead.
I've often heard them boast, a preacher
Might profit with a player for his teacher.

_Faust_. Yes, when the preacher is a player, granted:
As often happens in our modern ways.

_Wagner_. Ah! when one with such love of study's haunted,
And scarcely sees the world on holidays,
And takes a spy-glass, as it were, to read it,
How can one by persuasion hope to lead it?

_Faust_.