Each highest joy of earth must yield its zest,
Not all the world--the boundless azure--
Can fill the void within his craving breast.
Not all the world--the boundless azure--
Can fill the void within his craving breast.
Faust, a Tragedy by Goethe
_Mephistopheles_. No, Lord! I find them still as bad as bad can be.
Poor souls! their miseries seem so much to please 'em,
I scarce can find it in my heart to tease 'em.
_The Lord_. Knowest thou Faust?
_Mephistopheles_. The Doctor?
_The Lord_. Ay, my servant!
_Mephistopheles_. He!
Forsooth! he serves you in a famous fashion;
No earthly meat or drink can feed his passion;
Its grasping greed no space can measure;
Half-conscious and half-crazed, he finds no rest;
The fairest stars of heaven must swell his treasure.
Each highest joy of earth must yield its zest,
Not all the world--the boundless azure--
Can fill the void within his craving breast.
_The Lord_. He serves me somewhat darkly, now, I grant,
Yet will he soon attain the light of reason.
Sees not the gardener, in the green young plant,
That bloom and fruit shall deck its coming season?
_Mephistopheles_. What will you bet? You'll surely lose your wager!
If you will give me leave henceforth,
To lead him softly on, like an old stager.
_The Lord_. So long as he shall live on earth,
Do with him all that you desire.
Man errs and staggers from his birth.
_Mephistopheles_. Thank you; I never did aspire
To have with dead folk much transaction.
In full fresh cheeks I take the greatest satisfaction.
A corpse will never find me in the house;
I love to play as puss does with the mouse.
_The Lord_.