The Heavenly Host

Messengers follow

Heavenly kin, oh,

In leisurely flight:

Sin they forgive,

Dust they make live:

The friendship they show

To Nature below,

Floating they’ll give,

As they slowly alight!

Mephistopheles

I hear discords, all that nasty jingling,

Coming from up there, with unwelcome day:

It’s always that childish, girlish bungling,

That pious taste loves to hear and play.

You know how we in despicable moments,

Considered the ruin of the human race:

But the most shameful of compliments,

Is that their prayers are a worse disgrace.

These dandies come, the hypocrites:

They’ve snatched a heap of souls away,

Use our own weapons too to do it:

They’re Devils in disguise, I’d say.

To lose this one is everlasting shame:

On to the grave, and renew your claim!

The Choir of Angels (Scattering roses)

Roses, you dazzling ones,

Balsam you’re sending us,

Floating and trembling,

Secretly quickening,

Branches inspiring us,

Buds sweetly firing us,

Hasten to bloom!

Crimson and green, here

Springtime assume!

Carry the sleeper

To Paradise’ room.

Mephistopheles (To the devils.)

Why duck and dive? Is that Hell’s custom?

Stand still, and let them do their scattering.

Every gawk in place, and face them!

They think with such a flowery smattering,

To cool the heat of devils’ chattering:

At your breath it melts and shrinks, again.

Now blow, you blowers! – Enough, enough!

Your bubbling’s faded all that stuff. –

Not so fiercely! Close your mouths and noses!

Ah, now you’ve been too violent with the roses,

Where’s the moderation you should have learnt?

They’re not just shrivelling: they’re burning, burnt!

They float about in flames, poisonous, bright:

Avoid them: close together, huddle tight! –

Your power’s waning! And your courage too!

The devils sniff the strange, seductive brew.

The Choir of Angels

Blossoms, of joyfulness,

Flames, of true happiness,

Love, they radiate,

Bliss, they now create,

As the heart may.

Words that are truest,

Air of the clearest,

Gathering round us

Eternal day!

Mephistopheles

O, curses! O shower of shame that’s shed!

Each Satan’s standing on his head,

The Fatties spin like tops, in curves,

And plunge arse-upwards into Hell.

Go find the hot baths you deserve!

While at my post I’ll stand here still. –

(He beats at the hovering roses.)

Will-o’-the wisps, be gone! Though you burn bright,

Snatched at, in the end, you’re disgusting shite.

Why’d you keep fluttering here? Buzz off! –

They stick like tar and sulphur: filthy stuff.

The Choir of Angels

What is not part of you,

You need not share it:

What inwardly troubles you,

You need not bear it.

Should it close in, with force,

We will deflect its course.

Only the loving, Love

Guides to its source!

Mephistopheles

My head and heart are burnt: my liver’s burnt,

By a devilish element!

Sharper than the fires of Hell! –

That’s what makes you cry, so, as well,

You, the unlucky in love! Disdained,

Heads turned to the beloved, strained.

Mine, too! What’s twisted it to one side?

Are they and I not sworn to eternal strife?

I, once fiercely hostile to their very sight.

Has an alien force pierced me through and through?

I gladly gaze at them, loveliest of youths:

What holds me back from cursing at the light? –

And if I let myself be seduced,

Who’ll play the fool in future?

These airy fellows that I hate, too,

How lovely to me now they all appear! –

You sweet children, tell me then:

Aren’t you part of Lucifer’s race?

You’re so nice I’d like to kiss you, and again,

It feels as if this is your proper place.

It feels as comfortable, as natural to me,

As if we’d met a thousand times before:

So surreptitiously catlike, so lustfully:

The loveliness with each glance quickens more.

Oh, come nearer: Oh, only glance at me!

The Angels

We’re here already, why so cautiously?

We are close, and, if you can, then stay!

(The Angels come forward and occupy the whole space.)

Mephistopheles (Crowded into the proscenium.)

You scorn us, the spirits of the damned,

Yet you’re of the true Sorcerers’ brand:

You lead both man and wife astray. –

What wretched luck, and dire!

Is this Love’s own element?

My whole body’s bathed in fire,

I scarcely feel, my head’s so burnt. –

You float to and fro, sink down a while,

Move your sweet limbs with earthly guile:

True, a grave expression suits you well,

But I’d still like to see you smile a little!

That would be an eternal delight to me.

Like the lovers’ mutual glance, you see:

A simper round the mouth, is how it’s done,

You, the tall lad, you could make me love you,

The priest’s pose doesn’t really suit you,

So show a little lust, and look hereon!

You could be more modestly naked too,

That robe’s long hem, so demure in its rising –

They turn away – and seen from the rear view –

Those rascals now are really appetising!

The Choir of Angels

You, loving fires,

Brighter, now, fanned,

Heal the damned,

With Truth, the higher!

Let them be freed

From evil indeed,

Blissfully grace,

The eternal embrace.

Mephistopheles (Collecting himself.)

What’s happening to me! – Like Job, in fact

All boils, so I scare myself, and yet I’ve won

As well, since now my inspection’s done,

And my trust in self and tribe’s well placed:

The Devil’s noble bits appear intact,

This love-bewitchment’s only on the surface:

The wretched flames already smother,

And, as is right, I curse you all together!

The Choir of Angels

Pure incandescence!

Whom its flames bless,

Blissful with goodness,

Is their existence.

Gathered together,

Rise now, and praise!

Spirit can breathe here,

In purer waves!

(They rise, carrying away the immortal part of Faust.)

Mephistopheles (Looking round him.)

How then? – Where did they vanish to?

You took me by surprise, you adolescents.

Now with what they’ve salvaged from the tomb,

As their own prize, they’ve flown off to heaven:

They’ve stolen a great, a unique treasure:

That noble soul, mortgaged to my pleasure,

They’ve snatched it away, with cunning even.

But whom could I complain to, anyway?

Who’d grant me my well-earned right?

You’ve been swindled in your old age,

You’ve deserved it, this wretched slight.

At great expense, shameful! And it’s gone:

I’ve mishandled it all disgracefully,

A common lust, an absurd passion,

Swayed the hardened devil foolishly.

And if Experience was in a mess,

With all these childish, stupid things,

It was, in truth, no trivial Foolishness,

That took possession of him in the end.

Scene VII: Mountain Gorges, Forest, Rock, Desert

(Holy Hermits, divided in ascending planes, posted among the ravines.)

Chorus and Echo

Forests, they wave around,

Over them, cliffs bear down,

Roots cling to rocky ground,

Trunk upon trunk is bound,

Wave after wave sprays up,

Deep caves protecting us.

Lions prowl silently,

Round us, still friendly,

Honouring sacred space,

Love’s holy hiding place.

Pater Ecstaticus (Hovering up and down.)

Eternal, fire of bliss,

Glow of love’s bond this is,

Pain in the heart, seething,

Rapture divine, foaming.

Arrows, come, piercing me,

Spears, compelling me,

Clubs, you may shatter me,

Lightning may flash through me!

So passes the nullity

Of all unreality,

And from the lasting star

Shines Love’s eternal core.

Pater Profundis (At a lower level.)

As this rocky abyss at my feet,

Rests on a deeper abyss,

As a thousand glittering streams meet

In the foaming flood’s downward hiss,

As with its own strong impulse, above,

The tree lifts skywards in the air:

Even so all-powerful love,

Creates all things, in its care.

Around me there’s a savage roar,

As if the rocks and forests sway,

Yet full of love the waters pour,

Rushing bountifully away,

Sent to irrigate the valley here:

The lightning that flashed down,

Must purify the atmosphere,

With poisonous vapours bound –

They are love’s messengers, they tell

Of what creates eternally around us.

May it inflame me inwardly, as well,

Since my spirit, cold and confounded,

Torments itself, bound in the dull senses,

As sharp-toothed fetters’ agonising art.

Oh, God! Calm my thoughts, pacify us,

And bring light to my needy heart!

Pater Seraphicus (In the middle regions.)

What a mist of morning hovers

Through the pine-trees’ swaying hair!

Can I guess what it might cover?

A crowd of spirits live there.

Choir of Sacred Young Boys

Tell us, Father, where we wander,

Tell us, Kind One, who we are?

We are happy: Being’s tender

To all who are, all who are.

Pater Seraphicus

Young boys! Born at midnight’s hour,

Mind and spirit half-unveiled,

For your parents, a lost dower,

For the angels, profit gained.

You can feel that one who loves

Is near to you, so come to me:

Yet of earthly ways and moves,

You bear no traces, happily.

Rise into my eyes, those known

Organs of the earthly life,

You can use them as your own,

Gaze at all the spaces wide!

(He absorbs them into himself.)

Those are trees: those are cliffs,

A stream of water, rushing round,

With gigantic leaps it lifts,

Shortening its journey down.

The Young Boys (From within him.)

That’s indeed a mighty vision,

But it’s gloomy here, you know,

With fear and dread we’re all shaken.

Father, Kind one, let us go!

Pater Seraphicus

Rise upwards to the highest sphere,

Grow unnoticed there forever,

While in pure eternal manner,

God’s presence makes you stronger.

Such is the spirit’s libation,

Blending with the freest air:

Love’s eternal revelation,

Bliss is unfolded there.

The Choir of Young Boys (Circling round the highest summit.)

Hands now entwining,

Joyfully circling round,

Soaring and singing

With sacred feeling’s sound!

In the divinely taught,

Now you should trust:

He whom your worship sought

You’ll see at last.

The Angels (Soaring in the highest atmosphere, carrying the immortal part of Faust.)

He’s escaped, this noble member

Of the spirit world, from evil,

Whoever strives, in his endeavour,

We can rescue from the devil.

And if he has Love within,

Granted from above,

The sacred crowd will meet him,

With welcome, and with love.

The Younger Angels

Every rose from the hands

Of those penitents, loving, holy,

Helped us win the victory,

The highest work, completed, stands,

The treasure of this soul we’ve won.

Evil bowed to petals thrown,

Devils fled the blows we threw.

Instead of Hell’s hurts anew,

They felt spirits’ loving pain:

Pierced with agony again

The old devil-master too was gone.

Shout with joy! All is done.

The More Perfect Angels

Carrying earthly remains

Is hard to endure,

Though they survive the flames,

They are still the impure.

Once a great spirit’s strength

So tightly fits

All the four elements,

No angel splits

That double nature wed,

The inwardly binding:

To Eternal Love instead

Is left the unwinding.

The Younger Angels

Misted on rocky heights

Now we are feeling,

Nearing our clearer sight

Spiritual Being.

These clouds are vanishing

A crowd I see, moving,

Of sacred young men,

Freed from their earthly gloom,

Circling together,

Delighting again,

In the spring’s brighter bloom,

In higher air.

Let them together then,

Lead him on: risen,

Perfect, and there!

The Young Boys

Joyfully we receive

Him as a chrysalis:

So that we now achieve

A pledge of our bliss.

Let all the threads be lost

That now surround him!

He is already blessed,

Divine Love has found him.

Doctor Marianus (The transformed Faust: in the highest purest cell.)

Here is the freest view,

Of spirit borne skywards.

There women moving too

Drifting on upwards.

The splendour I see within

Garlands of stars,

There, all the Heavens’ Queen

Shines from afar.

(Enraptured.)

Highest Queen of all the world!

Let me, in the blue,

With all heaven’s web unfurled,

Know your mystery too.

Approve the tender, serious,

Stir of the human heart,

And in love’s sacred bliss,

Raise it higher, through your art.

Our courage is unconquerable

When you command on high:

But our glow is gentler, still,

When you are satisfied.

Virgin, pure, of loveliest mind,

Mother, in all nobility,

Peer to everything divine,

Queen of our reality.

Such light cloud fragments

Wind all around her,

They are the penitents,

Women so tender,

All around her knees,

Breathing the air, free,

Desiring her mercy.

You are the Virginal Mother,

It’s not surprising

Those seduced by another

Towards you are rising.

Taken in weakness now,

They are all harder to save:

Who can resist the power

Of desires that enslave?

How quickly the feet may slip

On smooth, sloping ground!

Who’s un-tempted by glance and lip,

Or by flattering sounds?

(The Mater Gloriosa soars into space.)

Choir of Female Penitents

You soar, on high, now,

Towards the eternal realm,

Hear our pleading, though,

You, the peerless one,

Oh, merciful one!

Magna Peccatrix (The sinful woman who anointed Christ’s feet, See Luke vii:36)

By the love that at the feet there

Of your son, divine, transfigured,

Let the tears like balsam flow there,

Despite the Pharisees’ derision:

By the vessel, that so richly

Spread its fragrance on the ground,

By the locks of hair that softly

Dried the holy feet, shed round –

The Woman of Samaria (The woman at the well, See John iv)

By the well, where once before

Abraham’s flocks were driven,

By the jar, that cooled the Saviour,

That to sacred lips was given:

By the pure and flowing fountain,

That poured out its clear water,

Overflowing, bright and certain,

Through all the worlds, forever.

Mary of Egypt (Acta Sanctorum)

By the consecrated place

Where the Lord’s body lay:

By the warning arm, against my face,

That thrust me far from the doorway:

By my forty years’ repentance,

Faithful, in that desert land:

By the blissful final sentence

That I wrote there on the sand –

All Three

Since you offer your presence

To the worst sinner,

The prize of penitence

Soars upwards forever,

Begrudge not this true soul,

Who, this once, transgressed,

Not knowing she might fall,

Commensurate forgiveness!

A Penitent, Formerly Named Gretchen (Stealing closer.)

Oh, bow down,

You peerless one,

You radiant one,

Your face, in mercy, towards my bane!

My true beloved,

No longer clouded,

Returns to me again.

The Sacred Young Boys (Nearing, hovering in circles.)

With mighty limbs, already

He is beyond us there,

Returning to us, so richly,

The rewards of our care.

We were taken early

Out of life’s chorus:

Yet he’s learned, so he

Will gently teach us.

The Penitent, Formerly Named Gretchen

Changed to himself, he’s scarce aware

Of the spirits’ noble choir all around,

He hardly knows his new life, there,

Already he’s so like the sacred crowd.

See, how he’s thrown off every bond

Of his old earthbound integument,

And his first youth now’s re-found,

It shines through his ethereal garment.

Allow me to teach him, here,

The new light still blinds him so.

The Mater Gloriosa

Come! Rise towards the higher spheres!

Gaining awareness of you, he will follow.

Doctor Marianus (Bowing, in adoration.)

Gaze towards that saving gaze,

All you, the penitent and tender,

To all those blissful ways,

Give thanks, and follow after.

Let every finer sense, unseen,

Be offered to her service,

Virgin, Mother now, and Queen,

Goddess, grant your mercies!

The Mystic Choir

All of the transient,

Is parable, only:

The insufficient,

Here, grows to reality:

The indescribable,

Here, is done:

Woman, eternal,

Beckons us on.