The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume I Part 106

HELENA, FAUST _and_ CHORUS

Rashness to peril brings, And deadly fate!

EUPHORION

Yet--see a pair of wings Unfoldeth straight!

Thither--I must, I must-- Grudge not my flight!

[_He casts himself into the air; his garments support him for a moment; his head flames, a trail of light follows him._]

CHORUS

Icarus! Icarus!

Oh woeful sight!

(_A beautiful youth falls at the parents' feet; we imagine that in the dead we recognize a well-known form; yet suddenly the corporeal part vanishes; the aureole rises like a comet to heaven; dress, mantle, and lyre remain lying on the ground._)

HELENA _and_ FAUST

Follows on joy new-born Anguishful moan!

EUPHORION'S VOICE, (_from the depths_)

Leave me in realms forlorn, Mother, not all alone! [_Pause._]

CHORUS (_dirge_)

Not alone--for hope we cherish, Where thou bidest thee to know!

Ah, from daylight though thou perish, Ne'er a heart will let thee go!

Scarce we venture to bewail thee, Envying we sing thy fate: Did suns.h.i.+ne cheer, or storm a.s.sail thee, Song and heart were fair and great.

Earthly fortune was thy dower, Lofty lineage, ample might, Ah, too early lost, thy flower Withered by untimely blight!

Glance was thine the world discerning, Sympathy with every wrong, Woman's love for thee still yearning, And thine own enchanting song.

Yet the beaten path forsaking, Thou didst run into the snare; So with law and usage breaking, On thy wilful course didst fare; Yet at last high thought has given To thy n.o.ble courage weight, For the loftiest thou has striven-- It to win was not thy fate.

Who does win it? Unreplying, Destiny the question hears, When the bleeding people lying, Dumb with grief, no cry uprears!-- Now new songs chant forth, in sorrow Deeply bowed lament no more; Them the earth brings forth tomorrow, As she brought them forth of yore!

[_Full pause. The music ceases._]

ACT THE FIFTH

OPEN COUNTRY

WANDERER

Yes, 'tis they, their branches rearing, h.o.a.ry lindens, strong in age;-- There I find them, reappearing, After my long pilgrimage!

'Tis the very spot;--how gladly Yonder hut once more I see, By the billows raging madly, Cast ash.o.r.e, which sheltered me!

My old hosts, I fain would greet them, Helpful they, an honest pair; May I hope today to meet them?

Even then they aged were.

Worthy folk, in G.o.d believing!

Shall I knock? or raise my voice?

Hail to you if, guest receiving, In good deeds ye still rejoice!

BAUCIS (_a very aged woman_)

Stranger dear, beware of breaking My dear husband's sweet repose!

Strength for brief and feeble waking Lengthened sleep on age bestows.

WANDERER

Mother, say then, do I find thee, To receive my thanks once more, In my youth who didst so kindly, With thy spouse, my life restore?

Baucis, to my lips half-dying, Art thou, who refreshment gave?

[_The husband steps forth._]

Thou Philemon, strength who plying, s.n.a.t.c.hed my treasure from the wave?

By your flames, so promptly kindled, By your bell's clear silver sound-- That adventure, horror-mingled, Hath a happy issue found.

Forward let me step, and gazing Forth upon the boundless main, Kneel, and thankful prayers upraising, Ease of my full heart the strain!

[_He walks forward upon the downs._]

PHILEMON (_to_ BAUCIS)

Haste to spread the table, under The green leaf.a.ge of our trees.

Let him run, struck dumb with wonder, Scarce he'll credit what he sees.

[_He follows the wanderer. Standing beside him._]

Where the billows did maltreat you, Wave on wave in fury rolled, There a garden now doth greet you, Fair as Paradise of old.

Grown more aged, as when stronger, I could render aid no more; And, as waned my strength, no longer Rolled the sea upon the sh.o.r.e; Prudent lords, bold serfs directing, It with trench and d.y.k.e restrained; Ocean's rights no more respecting, Lords they were, where he had reigned.

See, green meadows far extending;-- Garden, village, woodland, plain.

But return we, homeward wending, For the sun begins to wane.

In the distance sails are gliding, Nightly they to port repair; Bird-like, in their nests confiding, For a haven waits them there.

Far away mine eye discerneth First the blue fringe of the main; Right and left, where'er it turneth, Spreads the thickly-peopled plain.

IN THE GARDEN

_The three at table_

BAUCIS (_to the stranger_)

Art thou dumb? No morsel raising To thy famished lips?