BEFORE
THE GATE PART 2 From Faust
Faust
and Wagner pass on. Faust discusses his father's "dark"
art. He yearns to fly and follow the sun in one of the most poetic
speeches of the play. Wagner praises books and study and Faust
cautions him not to know the two "souls" - the higher and
lower. Finally Faust sees a distant poodle that seems strange- but
the dog comes up to them and Wagner says he is but a dog (but we
know
he isn't).
FAUST
Accepting your refreshing brew,
I wish all health and thank them too.
THE PEOPLE GATHER AROUND IN A CIRCLE
OLD PEASANT
In truth, it's very well it happens
That you appear this joyous day;
For earlier in evil times,
You worked for good in will and way.
How many who stand living here,
Your father snatched out just in time
From burning fever as he brought
The epidemic into line.
You too that time, a young man still,
Went in each house where plague was found;
How many corpses one carried out,
But you came out still strong and sound.
Withstanding much hard testing too;
The helper on high helped helpers through.
ALL
Health to the man who's truly tried,
Long may his help be by our side!
FAUST
Stand bowed to Him on high who sends
All help, and teaches help, my friends.
HE GOES ON WITH WAGNER
WAGNER
What lofty feelings you, great man, must gather
From this throng's reverence! Yes, he has much
True happiness who can draw such
Advantage from his gifts. The father
Points you out to his boy. Folk touch
And ask and press and rush around;
The dancers pause, no fiddles sound.
They stand in rows when you go near,
They throw their caps up toward the sky;
A little more and they would bow down here
As if the sacred host went by.
FAUST
Now it is but a few more steps up to that stone,
We'll rest here from our rambling. This is where,
Quite filled with thought, I'd often sit alone
And rack myself with fasting and with prayer.
Here rich in hope, in faith firm-set,
By wringing hands, by tears and sighing.
I thought I'd force the Lord, and get
An end to all that plague, that dying.
The crowd's applause just sounds like mockery.
Oh, would you read within my inmost part
How little father and son should be
So given glory for their art.
My father was- was a dark man of honour,
That over nature and her sacred circles mused,
In honesty, yet after his own views,
In an eccentric, labouring manner.
In other adept's company,
And after endless formulae,
Within the locked black kitchen, he
Would mix the opposites together.
Within a tepid bath, a daring wooer there,
A "Red Lion" wed the "Lily"; and with care
The two were pained upon an open flame
And passed from one "Bride Chamber" to another.
In bright hues there appeared inside
The glass, the "Young Queen". Truth to tell,
Here was the medicine, the patients died,
And no-one asked, "Now who got well?"
So with this hellish and concocted brew,
Throughout these hills and valleys too,
Far worse than plague itself we raged.
And I myself to thousands gave this poisoned cure;
They withered away, but I must endure
To hear the shameless killers praised.
WAGNER
How could that cause you such distress!
For is it not enough for honest men
That arts we pass on down to them
They practice with strict conscientiousness?
You honour your own father, as a youth,
So you absorb his teachings whole.
When grown you add to knowledge- then, in truth,
Your son may climb up to a higher goal.
FAUST
Oh, happy's he who still can hope
To leave this sea of error round us all.
For what's not known, that's what you need to cope,
And what is known, your need for that is small,
Still let's not let this hour of beauty grow
Quite stunted by such troubled talking, but
Just see now how the dusk-burnt sun's last glow
Is glimmering upon each green-edged hut.
The day's outlived, the yielding sunbeams shift,
They fly to further new life far away.
Oh, that from out my body wings could lift;
I'd flee, forever following the day!
I'd see, within eternal evening's beam,
All at my feet, the quiet world below,
Each valley hushed, each height a fire gleam,
Where silver streams to golden rivers flow.
Wild mountains with their gorges, none denies
My godlike race, already now the sea,
With its warmed bays, is opening under me,
Spread out before astonished eyes.
Yet off at last the goddess seems to sink;
But new, new impulse wakes, I'd find
I'd hurry forward, eternal light my drink,
The day before me and the night behind,
The heavens over me and under me the waves.
A glorious dream now, even as it flees us quite.
Ah! for the spirit's wings have grown so light,
That we've no bodied wing that so behaves.
For still in each one born there's traces
Of feelings lifting upward, up and on.
When he hears, vanishing in far, blue spaces,
The trilling tremble of a skylark's song,
When over steep, spruce-covered height,
Outspread, the eagles hover round.
When over flats and seas, in flight,
The crane strives onward, homeward bound.
WAGNER
I've often found such hours of fancy's touch,
Yet I have never felt an urge like you as such.
You see your fill of forest, field and brook;
I've never envied wings that birds employ.
Quite otherwise we're borne by spirit joy
From page to page, from book to book.
Then winter nights grow gracious, charmed and fair,
A blissful life warms every limb right through,
And oh! if you unroll a precious parchment there,
Then all of heaven will come down to you.
FAUST
You do yourself but know one urge's quest;
Oh, never learn to know the other!
Alas, two souls are dwelling in my breast,
Each wants to part itself from its own brother.
The one, with clinging organs, coarse love lust,
Holds to the world, the other's sovereignty
Uplifts it powerfully from dust
Towards regions of high ancestry.
If there be spirits of the air,
Between the earth and heaven ruling, weaving,
Descend from golden haze of atmosphere,
And lead me off to new and varied living!
If only I'd a magic cloak whose wing
Would carry me to new and varied lands.
For richest robes it would not leave my hands,
I wouldn't trade it for the mantle of a king.
WAGNER
Don't call the well-know swarms that stream and flee,
In misty circles spreading overhead,
From every quarter for humanity
Preparing peril, thousand-faceted.
From out the north they bare sharp spirit teeth,
Attacking us with arrow-pointed tongues.
Then from the east they parch the world beneath
And eat into your unprotected lungs.
If on the south wind, from the desert sent,
They heap on glow on glow upon your brain;
The west brings hosts, at first refreshing, bent
On drowning you and every field and plain.
They like eavesdropping, for they joy in harm,
They like obeying, for they like deceiving;
They act as if just sent from heaven’s calm,
And lisp their lies like angels’ breathing.
The world’s already wrapped in grey. Let’s go!
The air grows cool, the mist sinks low.
Now home’s most treasured when dusk’s about-
Why stand so, so astonished, gazing out?
What in this dusk makes you so troubled?
FAUST
You see the black dog brushing through the crops and stubble?
WAGNER
Long since. It didn’t seem important in the least.
FAUST
Observe it well. What would you call that beast?
WAGNER
A poodle; judging from its path I’d say
It’s searching for its master’s track.
Accepting your refreshing brew,
I wish all health and thank them too.
THE PEOPLE GATHER AROUND IN A CIRCLE
OLD PEASANT
In truth, it's very well it happens
That you appear this joyous day;
For earlier in evil times,
You worked for good in will and way.
How many who stand living here,
Your father snatched out just in time
From burning fever as he brought
The epidemic into line.
You too that time, a young man still,
Went in each house where plague was found;
How many corpses one carried out,
But you came out still strong and sound.
Withstanding much hard testing too;
The helper on high helped helpers through.
ALL
Health to the man who's truly tried,
Long may his help be by our side!
FAUST
Stand bowed to Him on high who sends
All help, and teaches help, my friends.
HE GOES ON WITH WAGNER
WAGNER
What lofty feelings you, great man, must gather
From this throng's reverence! Yes, he has much
True happiness who can draw such
Advantage from his gifts. The father
Points you out to his boy. Folk touch
And ask and press and rush around;
The dancers pause, no fiddles sound.
They stand in rows when you go near,
They throw their caps up toward the sky;
A little more and they would bow down here
As if the sacred host went by.
FAUST
Now it is but a few more steps up to that stone,
We'll rest here from our rambling. This is where,
Quite filled with thought, I'd often sit alone
And rack myself with fasting and with prayer.
Here rich in hope, in faith firm-set,
By wringing hands, by tears and sighing.
I thought I'd force the Lord, and get
An end to all that plague, that dying.
The crowd's applause just sounds like mockery.
Oh, would you read within my inmost part
How little father and son should be
So given glory for their art.
My father was- was a dark man of honour,
That over nature and her sacred circles mused,
In honesty, yet after his own views,
In an eccentric, labouring manner.
In other adept's company,
And after endless formulae,
Within the locked black kitchen, he
Would mix the opposites together.
Within a tepid bath, a daring wooer there,
A "Red Lion" wed the "Lily"; and with care
The two were pained upon an open flame
And passed from one "Bride Chamber" to another.
In bright hues there appeared inside
The glass, the "Young Queen". Truth to tell,
Here was the medicine, the patients died,
And no-one asked, "Now who got well?"
So with this hellish and concocted brew,
Throughout these hills and valleys too,
Far worse than plague itself we raged.
And I myself to thousands gave this poisoned cure;
They withered away, but I must endure
To hear the shameless killers praised.
WAGNER
How could that cause you such distress!
For is it not enough for honest men
That arts we pass on down to them
They practice with strict conscientiousness?
You honour your own father, as a youth,
So you absorb his teachings whole.
When grown you add to knowledge- then, in truth,
Your son may climb up to a higher goal.
FAUST
Oh, happy's he who still can hope
To leave this sea of error round us all.
For what's not known, that's what you need to cope,
And what is known, your need for that is small,
Still let's not let this hour of beauty grow
Quite stunted by such troubled talking, but
Just see now how the dusk-burnt sun's last glow
Is glimmering upon each green-edged hut.
The day's outlived, the yielding sunbeams shift,
They fly to further new life far away.
Oh, that from out my body wings could lift;
I'd flee, forever following the day!
I'd see, within eternal evening's beam,
All at my feet, the quiet world below,
Each valley hushed, each height a fire gleam,
Where silver streams to golden rivers flow.
Wild mountains with their gorges, none denies
My godlike race, already now the sea,
With its warmed bays, is opening under me,
Spread out before astonished eyes.
Yet off at last the goddess seems to sink;
But new, new impulse wakes, I'd find
I'd hurry forward, eternal light my drink,
The day before me and the night behind,
The heavens over me and under me the waves.
A glorious dream now, even as it flees us quite.
Ah! for the spirit's wings have grown so light,
That we've no bodied wing that so behaves.
For still in each one born there's traces
Of feelings lifting upward, up and on.
When he hears, vanishing in far, blue spaces,
The trilling tremble of a skylark's song,
When over steep, spruce-covered height,
Outspread, the eagles hover round.
When over flats and seas, in flight,
The crane strives onward, homeward bound.
WAGNER
I've often found such hours of fancy's touch,
Yet I have never felt an urge like you as such.
You see your fill of forest, field and brook;
I've never envied wings that birds employ.
Quite otherwise we're borne by spirit joy
From page to page, from book to book.
Then winter nights grow gracious, charmed and fair,
A blissful life warms every limb right through,
And oh! if you unroll a precious parchment there,
Then all of heaven will come down to you.
FAUST
You do yourself but know one urge's quest;
Oh, never learn to know the other!
Alas, two souls are dwelling in my breast,
Each wants to part itself from its own brother.
The one, with clinging organs, coarse love lust,
Holds to the world, the other's sovereignty
Uplifts it powerfully from dust
Towards regions of high ancestry.
If there be spirits of the air,
Between the earth and heaven ruling, weaving,
Descend from golden haze of atmosphere,
And lead me off to new and varied living!
If only I'd a magic cloak whose wing
Would carry me to new and varied lands.
For richest robes it would not leave my hands,
I wouldn't trade it for the mantle of a king.
WAGNER
Don't call the well-know swarms that stream and flee,
In misty circles spreading overhead,
From every quarter for humanity
Preparing peril, thousand-faceted.
From out the north they bare sharp spirit teeth,
Attacking us with arrow-pointed tongues.
Then from the east they parch the world beneath
And eat into your unprotected lungs.
If on the south wind, from the desert sent,
They heap on glow on glow upon your brain;
The west brings hosts, at first refreshing, bent
On drowning you and every field and plain.
They like eavesdropping, for they joy in harm,
They like obeying, for they like deceiving;
They act as if just sent from heaven’s calm,
And lisp their lies like angels’ breathing.
The world’s already wrapped in grey. Let’s go!
The air grows cool, the mist sinks low.
Now home’s most treasured when dusk’s about-
Why stand so, so astonished, gazing out?
What in this dusk makes you so troubled?
FAUST
You see the black dog brushing through the crops and stubble?
WAGNER
Long since. It didn’t seem important in the least.
FAUST
Observe it well. What would you call that beast?
WAGNER
A poodle; judging from its path I’d say
It’s searching for its master’s track.
FAUST
Note how it hunts, how its wide, spiral way
Is ever closing in on us. Its back,
If I see truly, leaves a swirl of flames
Behind it as it goes along.
WAGNER
I see a black-haired poodle, nothing strange.
Perhaps a trick of sight makes it seem wrong.
FAUST
It draws soft magic coils, it seems to me,
Around our feet to form a future fetter.
WAGNER
I see it prance around us, with uncertainty,
Because it sees two strangers rather than its master.
FAUST
The circles narrow, it’s already near.
WAGNER
You see, a dog and not a ghost comes here.
It pauses, growls, lies on its belly too,
And wags its tail: all things dogs do.
FAUST
Now be our friend! Come here to us.
WAGNER
It’s just a poodle-foolish beast.
If you stand still, it waits by too.
You speak to it, it tries to climb on you.
It brings back things you drop. It’s quick
To leap into stream to fetch your stick.
FAUST
You are quite right. I cannot find a trace
Of any spirit, training takes its place.
WAGNER
And when a dog is truly trained,
Even a wise man’s heart is gained.
Indeed, this one deserves your favour, he
Is the students’ excellent scholar, you see.
THEY EXIT BY THE GATE
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