No More Learning

_Scholar_. Sincerely, could wish I were off again:
My soul already has grown quite weary
Of walls and halls, so dark and dreary,
The narrowness oppresses me.
One sees no green thing, not a tree.
On the lecture-seats, I know not what ails me,
Sight, hearing, thinking, every thing fails me.

_Mephistopheles_. 'Tis all in use, we daily see.
The child takes not the mother's breast
In the first instance willingly,
But soon it feeds itself with zest.
So you at wisdom's breast your pleasure
Will daily find in growing measure.

_Scholar_. I'll hang upon her neck, a raptured wooer,
But only tell me, who shall lead me to her?

_Mephistopheles_. Ere you go further, give your views
As to which faculty you choose?

_Scholar_. To be right learn'd I've long desired,
And of the natural world aspired
To have a perfect comprehension
In this and in the heavenly sphere.

_Mephistopheles_.
I see you're on the right track here;
But you'll have to give undivided attention.

_Scholar_. My heart and soul in the work'll be found;
Only, of course, it would give me pleasure,
When summer holidays come round,
To have for amusement a little leisure.

_Mephistopheles_. Use well the precious time, it flips away so,
Yet method gains you time, if I may say so.
I counsel you therefore, my worthy friend,
The logical leisures first to attend.
Then is your mind well trained and cased
In Spanish boots,[18] all snugly laced,
So that henceforth it can creep ahead
On the road of thought with a cautious tread.
And not at random shoot and strike,
Zig-zagging Jack-o'-lanthorn-like.
Then will you many a day be taught
That what you once to do had thought
Like eating and drinking, extempore,
Requires the rule of one, two, three.
It is, to be sure, with the fabric of thought,
As with the _chef d'? uvre_ by weavers wrought,
Where a thousand threads one treadle plies,
Backward and forward the shuttles keep going,
Invisibly the threads keep flowing,
One stroke a thousand fastenings ties:
Comes the philosopher and cries:
I'll show you, it could not be otherwise:
The first being so, the second so,
The third and fourth must of course be so;
And were not the first and second, you see,
The third and fourth could never be.
The scholars everywhere call this clever,
But none have yet become weavers ever.
Whoever will know a live thing and expound it,
First kills out the spirit it had when he found it,
And then the parts are all in his hand,
Minus only the spiritual band!
Encheiresin naturae's[19] the chemical name,
By which dunces themselves unwittingly shame.

_Scholar_. Cannot entirely comprehend you.