In hope of new beatitude,

Revel unchecked in her sweet atmosphere.

FAUST.

Can we at once into her chamber go?

MEPHISTOPHELES.

Not so; it is too early yet.

FAUST.

Some present for her see and get.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

Presents already; right, he'll sure succeed.
I know of many a well-lined place, indeed,
And many a treasure long hid in the ground,
I must a little look once more around.

[Exit.

EVENING.

A small cleanly chamber.

MARGARET, braiding and binding her hair. Something I'd give, did I but know Who that gentleman might be; Right gallant did his bearing show,

And he's of noble family.

That in his forehead might be seen,

He had not else so forward been.

[Exit.

FAUST.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

MEPHISTOPHEles.

Come in, quite softly, but come in.

FAUST, after a short silence.

Oh, leave me here alone, I pray.

MEPHISTOPHELES, looking round.

Not every maid has things so clean.

FAUST, gazing about.

Welcome, sweet twilight's glimmering ray,

That dimly on this hallowed spot doth brood;
Seize on my heart, oh Love's delicious pan,
That pining makest the Dew of Hope thy food.
Oh, what a sense of stillness here doth reign,
Breathing what order, what contentedness,
What plenty doth this poverty contain,
And in this dungeon even what blessedness.

[He throws himself on the leathern chair
by the bed.

Receive me, thou from whom the world long gone, In weal and woe a welcome oft have found; How often circling the paternal throne,

Thee have a host of children clustered round. Perchance, too, thankful for her Christmas gift, With childhood's chubby cheeks, my darling here In pious fondness to her lips would lift

The hand all withered of her grandsire dear.
Maiden, I feel thy spirit hovering near,
That mother-like doth teach thee, day by day,
The table, with its snow-white cloth to lay,
To strew the sand that crisps beneath thy feet.
Oh, that dear hand, that godlike hand of thine.
Through thee this hut becomes a realm divine.
And here-

[He raises a bed curtain.

What a delicious trembling, blissful fear

Seizes me. Long hours could I linger here.

Nature! Here, in dreams of lightness,

Broughtest thou this angel-born to perfect brightness.

Here lay the child, with glowing life,

Its tender bosom ever rife.

And here each impulse, sanctified and pure,

The godlike image did itself mature.

And thou, what tempted thee in here to steal?

What deep heartfelt emotion do I feel.

What wouldst thou here? why doth thy heart sink so?

Poor mean-souled Faust, thee I no longer know.

And if this moment she returned again,

For thy transgression how wouldst thou atone? The greatest boaster, ah, how little then, Melted to reverence at her feet lay thrown.

MEPHISTOPHEles.

Quick, coming from below the girl I see.

FAUST.

Away, away! here I return no more.

MEPHISTOPHEles.

Here is a casket, it weighs heavily.

From somewhere else the prize I bore.
Quick, put it in the press-in there;
It will turn her head, I swear.

I put some little things within,
Some one else to win.

But child is child, and play is play.

I know not; shall I?

FAUST.

MEPHISTOPHEles.

Dost delay ?

Perchance you mean yourself to keep the prize.
In that case I your rakishness would advise
On it no more to waste the glorious hours of day,
And further trouble to save me,

I trust you are not miserly.

I rub my hands, and scratch my head

[He puts the casket in the press, and shuts it again.

Away-the bolt is sped.

Now, the youthful lovely girl,

Το

your heart's desire to twist and twirl.

Yet from your air

It seems as in the lecture room you were,