The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume I Part 91

Was it not given to thee and me--thee too?

'Tis thou thyself! I scarce believe it yet.

Give me thy hand! It is no dream! 'Tis true!

Thine own dear hand!--But how is this? 'Tis wet!

Quick, wipe it off! Meseems that yet There's blood thereon.

Ah G.o.d! what hast thou done?

Put up thy sword, I beg of thee!

FAUST

Oh, dearest, let the past forgotten be!

Death is in every word.

MARGARET

No, thou must linger here in sorrow!

The graves I will describe to thee, And thou to them must see Tomorrow: The best place give to my mother, Close at her side my brother, Me at some distance lay-- But not too far away!

And the little one place on my right breast.

n.o.body else will near me lie!

To nestle beside thee so lovingly, That was a rapture, gracious and sweet!

A rapture I never again shall prove; Methinks I would force myself on thee, love, And thou dost spurn me, and back retreat-- Yet 'tis thyself, thy fond kind looks I see.

FAUST

If thou dost feel 'tis I, then come with me!

MARGARET

What, there? without?

FAUST

Yes, forth in the free air.

MARGARET

Ay, if the grave's without,--If death lurk there!

Hence to the everlasting resting-place, And not one step beyond!--Thou'rt leaving me?

Oh Henry! would that I could go with thee!

FAUST

Thou canst! But will it! Open stands the door.

MARGARET

I dare not go! I've naught to hope for more.

What boots it to escape? They lurk for me!

'Tis wretched to beg, as I must do, And with an evil conscience thereto!

'Tis wretched, in foreign lands to stray; And me they will catch, do what I may!

FAUST

With thee will I abide.

MARGARET

Quick! Quick!

Save thy poor child!

Keep to the path The brook along, Over the bridge To the wood beyond, To the left, where the plank is, In the pond.

Seize it at once!

It fain would rise, It struggles still!

Save it. Oh save!

FAUST

Dear Gretchen, more collected be!

One little step, and thou art free!

MARGARET

Were we but only past the hill There sits my mother upon a stone-- My brain, alas, is cold with dread!-- There sits my mother upon a stone, And to and fro she shakes her head; She winks not, she nods not, her head it droops sore; She slept so long, she waked no more; She slept, that we might taste of bliss: Ah I those were happy times, I wis!

FAUST

Since here avails nor argument nor prayer, Thee hence by force I needs must bear.

MARGARET

Loose me! I will not suffer violence!

With murderous hand hold not so fast!

I have done all to please thee in the past!

FAUST

Day dawns! My love! My love!

MARGARET

Yes! day draws near, The day of judgment too will soon appear!

It should have been my bridal! No one tell, That thy poor Gretchen thou hast known too well.

Woe to my garland!

Its bloom is o'er!

Though not at the dance-- We shall meet once more.

The crowd doth gather, in silence it rolls; The squares, the streets, Scarce hold the throng.

The staff is broken,--the death-bell tolls,-- They bind and seize me! I'm hurried along, To the seat of blood already I'm bound!

Quivers each neck as the naked steel Quivers on mine the blow to deal-- The silence of the grave now broods around!

FAUST