Yes, with the pious ones, 'tis clear,
"All's grist that comes to their mill;"
They build their tabernacles here,
On Blocksberg, as on Carmel.
"All's grist that comes to their mill;"
They build their tabernacles here,
On Blocksberg, as on Carmel.
Faust, a Tragedy by Goethe
See how naively, there, the throng
Among themselves are jesting,
You'll hear them, I've no doubt, ere long,
Their good kind hearts protesting.
_Musagetes_. Apollo in this witches' group
Himself right gladly loses;
For truly I could lead this troop
Much easier than the muses.
_Ci-devant genius of the age_. Right company will raise man up.
Come, grasp my skirt, Lord bless us!
The Blocksberg has a good broad top,
Like Germany's Parnassus.
_Curious traveller_. Tell me who is that stiff man?
With what stiff step he travels!
He noses out whate'er he can.
"He scents the Jesuit devils. "
_Crane_. In clear, and muddy water, too,
The long-billed gentleman fishes;
Our pious gentlemen we view
Fingering in devils' dishes.
_Child of this world_.
Yes, with the pious ones, 'tis clear,
"All's grist that comes to their mill;"
They build their tabernacles here,
On Blocksberg, as on Carmel.
_Dancer_. Hark! a new choir salutes my ear!
I hear a distant drumming.
"Be not disturbed! 'mong reeds you hear
The one-toned bitterns bumming. "
_Dancing-master. _ How each his legs kicks up and flings,
Pulls foot as best he's able!
The clumsy hops, the crooked springs,
'Tis quite disreputable!
_Fiddler_. The scurvy pack, they hate, 'tis clear,
Like cats and dogs, each other.
Like Orpheus' lute, the bagpipe here
Binds beast to beast as brother.
_Dogmatist_. You'll not scream down my reason, though,
By criticism's cavils.
The devil's something, that I know,
Else how could there be devils?
Among themselves are jesting,
You'll hear them, I've no doubt, ere long,
Their good kind hearts protesting.
_Musagetes_. Apollo in this witches' group
Himself right gladly loses;
For truly I could lead this troop
Much easier than the muses.
_Ci-devant genius of the age_. Right company will raise man up.
Come, grasp my skirt, Lord bless us!
The Blocksberg has a good broad top,
Like Germany's Parnassus.
_Curious traveller_. Tell me who is that stiff man?
With what stiff step he travels!
He noses out whate'er he can.
"He scents the Jesuit devils. "
_Crane_. In clear, and muddy water, too,
The long-billed gentleman fishes;
Our pious gentlemen we view
Fingering in devils' dishes.
_Child of this world_.
Yes, with the pious ones, 'tis clear,
"All's grist that comes to their mill;"
They build their tabernacles here,
On Blocksberg, as on Carmel.
_Dancer_. Hark! a new choir salutes my ear!
I hear a distant drumming.
"Be not disturbed! 'mong reeds you hear
The one-toned bitterns bumming. "
_Dancing-master. _ How each his legs kicks up and flings,
Pulls foot as best he's able!
The clumsy hops, the crooked springs,
'Tis quite disreputable!
_Fiddler_. The scurvy pack, they hate, 'tis clear,
Like cats and dogs, each other.
Like Orpheus' lute, the bagpipe here
Binds beast to beast as brother.
_Dogmatist_. You'll not scream down my reason, though,
By criticism's cavils.
The devil's something, that I know,
Else how could there be devils?
