My worthy sir, you see the matter
As people generally see;
But we must learn to take things better,
Before life pleasures wholly flee.
As people generally see;
But we must learn to take things better,
Before life pleasures wholly flee.
Faust, a Tragedy by Goethe
But one thing haunts me, the old song,
That time is short and art is long.
You need some slight advice, I'm fearing.
Take to you one of the poet-feather,
Let the gentleman's thought, far-sweeping,
Bring all the noblest traits together,
On your one crown their honors heaping,
The lion's mood
The stag's rapidity,
The fiery blood of Italy,
The Northman's hardihood.
Bid him teach thee the art of combining
Greatness of soul with fly designing,
And how, with warm and youthful passion,
To fall in love by plan and fashion.
Should like, myself, to come across 'm,
Would name him Mr. Microcosm.
_Faust_. What am I then? if that for which my heart
Yearns with invincible endeavor,
The crown of man, must hang unreached forever?
_Mephistopheles_. Thou art at last--just what thou art.
Pile perukes on thy head whose curls cannot be counted,
On yard-high buskins let thy feet be mounted,
Still thou art only what thou art.
_Faust_. Yes, I have vainly, let me not deny it,
Of human learning ransacked all the stores,
And when, at last, I set me down in quiet,
There gushes up within no new-born force;
I am not by a hair's-breadth higher,
Am to the Infinite no nigher.
_Mephistopheles_.
My worthy sir, you see the matter
As people generally see;
But we must learn to take things better,
Before life pleasures wholly flee.
The deuce! thy head and all that's in it,
Hands, feet and ------ are thine;
What I enjoy with zest each minute,
Is surely not the less mine?
If I've six horses in my span,
Is it not mine, their every power?
I fly along as an undoubted man,
On four and twenty legs the road I scour.
Cheer up, then! let all thinking be,
And out into the world with me!
I tell thee, friend, a speculating churl
Is like a beast, some evil spirit chases
Along a barren heath in one perpetual whirl,
While round about lie fair, green pasturing places.
_Faust_. But how shall we begin?
_Mephistopheles_. We sally forth e'en now.
What martyrdom endurest thou!
What kind of life is this to be living,
Ennui to thyself and youngsters giving?
Let Neighbor Belly that way go!
To stay here threshing straw why car'st thou?