faust-第2节
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ye stole； Shall I this time attempt to clasp； to hold ye？ Still for the fond illusion
yearns my soul？ Ye press around！ Come then； your captive hold me； As
upward from the vapoury mist ye roll； Within my breast youth's throbbing
pulse is bounding； Fann'd by the magic breath your march surrounding。
Shades fondly loved appear； your train attending； And visions fair of many a
blissful day； First … love and friendship their fond accents blending； Like to
some ancient； half … expiring lay； Sorrow revives； her wail of anguish sending
Back o'er life's devious labyrinthine way； And names the dear ones； they
whom Fate bereaving Of life's fair hours； left me behind them grieving。
They hear me not my later cadence singing； The souls to whom my earlier lays
I sang； Dispersed the throng； their severed flight now winging； Mute are the
voices that responsive rang。 For stranger crowds the Orphean lyre now
stringing； E'en their applause is to my heart a pang； Of old who listened to my
song； glad hearted； If yet they live； now wander widely parted。
A yearning long unfelt； each impulse swaying； To yon calm spirit … realm
uplifts my soul； In faltering cadence； as when Zephyr playing； Fans the
Aeolian harp； my numbers roll； Tear follows tear； my steadfast heart obeying
The tender impulse； loses its control； What I possess as from afar I see；
Those I have lost become realities to me。
Prologue For The Theatre
Manager。 Dramatic Poet。 Merryman。
Manager
Ye twain； in trouble and distress True friends whom I so oft have found； Say；
for our scheme on German ground； What prospect have we of success？ Fain
would I please the public； win their thanks； They live and let live； hence it is
but meet。 The posts are now erected； and the planks； And all look forward to
a festal treat。 Their places taken； they； with eyebrows rais'd； Sit patiently； and
fain would be amaz'd。 I know the art to hit the public taste； Yet ne'er of failure
felt so keen a dread； True； they are not accustomed to the best； But then
appalling the amount they've read。 How make our entertainment striking； new；
And yet significant and pleasing too？ For to be plain； I love to see the throng；
As to our booth the living tide progresses； As wave on wave successive rolls
along； And through heaven's narrow portal forceful presses； Still in broad
daylight； ere the clock strikes four； With blows their way towards the box
they take； And； as for bread in famine； at the baker's door； For tickets are
content their necks to break。 Such various minds the bard alone can sway；
My friend； oh work this miracle to … day！
Poet
Oh of the motley throng speak not before me； At whose aspect the Spirit
wings its flight！ Conceal the surging concourse； I implore thee； Whose vortex
draws us with resistless might。 No； to some peaceful heavenly nook restore
me； Where only for the bard blooms pure delight； Where love and friendship
yield their choicest blessing； Our heart's true bliss； with god … like hand
caressing。
What in the spirit's depths was there created； What shyly there the lip shaped
forth in sound； A failure now； with words now fitly mated； In the wild tumult
of the hour is drown'd； Full oft the poet's thought for years hath waited Until
at length with perfect form 'tis crowned； What dazzles； for the moment born；
must perish； What genuine is posterity will cherish。
Merryman
This cant about posterity I hate； About posterity were I to prate； Who then
the living would amuse？ For they Will have diversion； ay； and 'tis their due。 A
sprightly fellow's presence at your play； Methinks should also count for
something too； Whose genial wit the audience still inspires； Knows from their
changeful mood no angry feeling； A wider circle he desires； To their heart's
depths more surely thus appealing。 To work； then！ Give a master … piece； my
friend； Bring Fancy with her choral trains before us； Sense； reason； feeling；
passion； but attend！ Let folly also swell the tragic chorus。
Manager
In chief； of incident enough prepare！ A show they want； they come to gape
and stare。 Spin for their eyes abundant occupation； So that the multitude may
wondering gaze； You by sheer bulk have won your reputation； The man you
are all love to praise。 By mass alone can you subdue the masses； Each then
selects in time what suits his bent。 Bring much； you something bring for various
classes； And from the house goes every one content。 You give a piece；
abroad in pieces send it！ 'Tis a ragout … success must needs attend it； 'Tis easy
to serve up； as easy to invent。 A finish'd whole what boots it to present！ Full
soon the public will in pieces rend it。
Poet
How mean such handicraft as this you cannot feel！ How it revolts the genuine
artist's mind！ The sorry trash in which these coxcombs deal； Is here approved
on principle； I find。
Manager
Such a reproof disturbs me not a whit！ Who on efficient work is bent； Must
choose the fittest instrument。 Consider！ 'tis soft wood you have to split； Think
too for whom you write； I pray！ One comes to while an hour away； One from
the festive board； a sated guest； Others； more dreaded than the rest； From
journal … reading hurry to the play。 As to a masquerade； with absent minds；
they press； Sheer curiosity their footsteps winging； Ladies display their
persons and their dress； Actors unpaid their service bringing。 What dreams
beguile you on your poet's height？ What puts a full house in a merry mood？
More closely view your patrons of the night！ The half are cold； the half are
rude。 One； the play over； craves a game of cards； Another a wild night in
wanton joy would spend。 Poor fools the muses' fair regards。 Why court for
such a paltry end？ I tell you； give them more； still more 'tis all I ask； Thus you
will ne'er stray widely from the goal； Your audience seek to mystify cajole； To
satisfy them … that's a harder task。 What ails thee？ art enraptured or
distressed？
Poet
Depart！ elsewhere another servant choose What！ shall the bard his godlike
power abuse？ Man's loftiest right； kind nature's high bequest； For your mean
purpose basely sport away？ Whence comes his mastery o'er the human
breast； Whence o'er the elements his sway； But from the harmony that；
gushing from his soul； Draws back into his heart the wondrous whole？ With
careless hand when round her spindle； Nature Winds the interminable thread
of life； When 'mid the clash of Being every creature Mingles in harsh
inextricable strife； Who deals their course unvaried till it falleth； In rhythmic
flow to music's measur'd tone？ Each solitary note whose genius calleth； To
swell the mighty choir in unison？ Who in the raging storm sees passion
low'ring？ Or flush of earnest thought in evening's glow？ Who every blossom in
sweet spring … time flowering Along the loved one's path would strow？ Who；
Nature's green familiar leaves entwining； Wreathe's glory's garland； won on
every field？ Makes sure Olympus； heavenly powers combining？ Man's mighty
spirit； in the bard reveal'd！
Merryman
Come then； employ your lofty inspiration； And carry on the poet's avocation；
Just as we carry on a love affair。 Two meet by chance； are pleased； they
linger there； Insensibly are link'd； they scarce know how； Fortune seems now
propitious； adverse now； Then come alternate rapture and despair； And 'tis a
true romance ere one's aware。 Just such a drama let us now compose。 Plunge
boldly into life … its depths disclose！ Each lives it； not to many is it known；
'Twill interest wheresoever seiz'd and shown； Bright pictures； but obscure
their meaning： A ray of truth through error gleaming； Thus you the best elixir
brew； To charm mankind； and edify them too。 Then youth's fair blossoms
crowd to view your play； And wait as on an oracle； while they； The tender
souls； who love the melting mood； Suck from your work their melancholy
food； Now this one； and now that； you deeply stir； Each sees the working of
his heart laid bare。 Their tears； their laughter； you command with ease； The
lofty still they honour； the illusive love。 Your finish'd gentlemen you ne'er can
please； A growing mind alone will grateful prove。
Poet
Then give me back youth's golden prime； When my own spirit too was
growing； When from my heart th' unbidden rhyme Gush'd forth； a fount for
ever flowing； Then shadowy mist the world conceal'd； And every bud sweet
promise made； Of wonders yet to be reveal'd； As through the vales； with
blooms inlaid； Culling a thousand flowers I stray'd。 Naught had I； yet a rich
profusion！ The thirst for truth； joy in each fond illusion。 Give me unquell'd
those impulses to prove； Rapture so deep； its ecstasy was pain； The power of
hate； the energy of love； Give me； oh give me back my youth again！
Merryman
Youth； my good friend； you certainly require When foes in battle round ar
