Promenaders of all sorts pass out.
ARTISANS
Why choose ye that direction, pray?
OTHERS
To the hunting-lodge we’re on our way.
THE FIRST
We towards the mill are strolling on.
A MECHANIC
A walk to Wasserhof were best.
A SECOND
The road is not a pleasant one.
THE OTHERS
What will you do?
A THIRD
I’ll join the rest.
A FOURTH
Let’s up to Burghof, there you’ll find good cheer,
The prettiest maidens and the best of beer,
And brawls of a prime sort.
A FIFTH
You scapegrace! How;
Your skin still itching for a row?
Thither I will not go, I loathe the place.
SERVANT GIRL
No, no! I to the town my steps retrace.
ANOTHER
Near yonder poplars he is sure to be.
THE FIRST
And if he is, what matters it to me!
With you he’ll walk, he’ll dance with none but you,
And with your pleasures what have I to do?
THE SECOND
To-day he will not be alone, he said
His friend would be with him, the curly-head.
STUDENT
Why how those buxom girls step on!
Come, brother, we will follow them anon.
Strong beer, a damsel smartly dress’d,
Stinging tobacco,–these I love the best.
BURGHER’S DAUGHTER
Look at those handsome fellows there!
‘Tis really shameful, I declare,
The very best society they shun,
After those servant girls forsooth, to run.
SECOND STUDENT to the first
Not quite so fast! for in our rear,
Two girls, well-dress’d, are drawing near;
Not far from us the one doth dwell,
And sooth to say, II like her well.
They walk demurely, yet you’ll see,
That they will let us join them presently.
THE FIRST
Not I! restraints of all kinds I detest.
Quick! let us catch the wild-game ere it flies,
The hand on Saturday the mop that plies,
Will on the Sunday fondle you the best.
BURGHER
No, this new Burgomaster, I like him not, God knows,
Now, he’s in office, daily more arrogant he grows;
And for the town, what doth he do for it?
Are not things worse from day to day?
To more restraints we must submit;
And taxes more than ever pay.
BEGGAR sings
Kind gentleman and ladies fair,
So rosy-cheek’d and trimly dress’d,
Be pleas’d to listen to my prayer,
Relieve and pity the distress’d.
Let me not vainly sing my lay!
His heart’s most glad whose hand is free.
Now when all men keep holiday,
Should be a harvest-day to me.
ANOTHER BURGHER
On holidays and Sundays naught know I more inviting
Than chatting about war and war’s alarms,
When folk in Turkey, up in arms,
Far off, are ‘gainst each other fighting.
We at the window stand, our glasses drain,
And watch adown the stream the painted vessels gliding,
Then joyful we at eve come home again,
And peaceful times we bless, peace long-abiding.
THIRD BURGHER
Ay, neighbour! So let matters stand for me!
There they may scatter one another’s brains,
And wild confusion round them see–
So here at home in quiet all remains!
OLD WOMAN to the BURGHERS’ DAUGHTERS
Heyday! How smart! The fresh young blood!
Who would not fall in love with you?
Not quite so proud! ‘Tis well and good!
And what you wish, that I could help you to.
BURGHER’S DAUGHTER
Come, Agatha! I care not to be seen
Walking in public with these witches. True,
My future lover, last St. Andrew’s E’en,
In flesh and blood she brought before my view.
ANOTHER
And mine she show’d me also in the glass,
A soldier’s figure, with companions bold;
I look around, I seek him as I pass,
In vain, his form I nowhere can behold.
SOLDIERS
Fortress with turrets
And walls high in air,
Damsel disdainful,
Haughty and fair,
These be my prey!
Bold is the venture,
Costly the pay!
Hark how the trumpet
Thither doth call us,
Where either pleasure
Or death may befall us.
Hail to the tumult!
Life’s in the field!
Damsel and fortress
To us must yield.
Bold is the venture,
Costly the pay!
Gaily the soldier
Marches away.
FAUST and WAGNER
FAUST
Loosed from their fetters are streams and rills
Through the gracious spring-tide’s all-quickening glow;
Hope’s budding joy in the vale doth blow;
Old Winter back to the savage hills
Withdraweth his force, decrepid now.
Thence only impotent icy grains
Scatters he as he wings his flight,
Striping with sleet the verdant plains;
But the sun endureth no trace of white;
Everywhere growth and movement are rife,
All things investing with hues of life:
Though flowers are lacking, varied of dye,
Their colours the motly throng supply.
Turn thee around, and from this height,
Back to the town direct thy sight.
Forth from the hollow, gloomy gate,
Stream forth the masses, in bright array.
Gladly seek they the sun to-day;
The Lord’s Resurrection they celebrate:
For they themselves have risen, with joy,
From tenement sordid, from cheerless room,
From bonds of toil, from care and annoy,
From gable and roof’s o’er-hanging gloom,
From crowded alley and narrow street,
And from the churches’ awe-breathing night,
All now have come forth into the light.
Look, only look, on nimble feet,
Through garden and field how spread the throng,
How o’er the river’s ample sheet,
Many a gay wherry glides along;
And see, deep sinking in the tide,
Pushes the last boat now away.
E’en from yon far hill’s path-worn side,
Flash the bright hues of garments gay.
Hark! Sounds of village mirth arise;
This is the people’s paradise.
Both great and small send up a cheer;
Here am I man, I feel it here.
WAGNER
Sir Doctor, in a walk with you
There’s honour and instruction too;
Yet here alone I care not to resort,
Because I coarseness hate of every sort.
This fiddling, shouting, skittling, I detest;
I hate the tumult of the vulgar throng;
They roar as by the evil one possess’d,
And call it pleasure, call it song.
PEASANTS under the linden-tree
Dance and song
The shepherd for the dance was dress’d,
With ribbon, wreath, and coloured vest,
A gallant show displaying.
And round about the linden-trees,
They footed it right merrily. Juchhe! Juchhe!
Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
So fiddle-bow was braying.
Our swain amidst the circle press’d,
He push’d a maiden trimly dress’d,
And jogg’d her with his elbow;
The buxom damsel turn’d her head,
“Now that’s a stupid trick!” she said, Juchhe! Juchhe!
Juchhesia! Heisa! He!
Don’t be so rude, good fellow!
Swift in the circle they advanced,
They danced to right, to left they danced,
And all the skirts were swinging.
And they grew red, and they grew warm,
Panting, they rested arm in arm, Juchhe! Juchhe!
Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
To hip their elbow bringing.
Don’t make so free! How many a maid
Has been betroth’d and then betray’d;
And has repented after!
Yet still he flatter’d her aside,
And from the linden, far and wide, Juchhe! Juchhe!
Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
Rang fiddle-bow and laughter.
OLD PEASANT
Doctor, ’tis really kind of you,
To condescend to come this way,
A highly learned man like you,
To join our mirthful throng to-day.
Our fairest cup I offer you,
Which we with sparkling drink have crown’d,
And pledging you, I pray aloud,
That every drop within its round,
While it your present thirst allays,
May swell the number of your days.
FAUST
I take the cup you kindly reach,
Thanks and prosperity to each!
The crowd gather round in a circle.
OLD PEASANT
Ay, truly! ’tis well done, that you
Our festive meeting thus attend;
You, who in evil days of yore,
So often show’d yourself our friend!
Full many a one stands living here,
Who from the fever’s deadly blast,
Your father rescu’d, when his skill
The fatal sickness stay’d at last.
A young man then, each house you sought,
Where reign’d the mortal pestilence.
Corpse after corpse was carried forth,
But still unscath’d you issued thence.
Sore then your trials and severe;
The Helper yonder aids the helper here.
ALL
Heaven bless the trusty friend, and long
To help the poor his life prolong!
FAUST
To Him above in homage bend,
Who prompts the helper and Who help doth send.
He proceeds with WAGNER.