Part 12
CHORUS OF ANGELS: Roses, resplendent, balsam-sending! Fluttering, floating, secretly reviving, twiglets-winged, buds-unsealed, hasten to bloom. Spring, arise, purple and green! Bear paradises to the one at rest.
MEPHISTOPHELES: What cower and twitch ye? Is this hellish custom? Stand fast and let them strew. Each fool to his post! They think, with such little flowers, to snow the hot devils under; that melts and shrinks before your breath. Now puff, ye puffers!—Enough, enough! Before your reek the whole flock pales.— Not so violently! Shut mouth and nose! In truth, ye blew too hard. That ye never know the right measure! It shrinks not only, it browns, withers, it burns! Already it floats near with poison-clear flames; Stem against it, press close together!— The force dies out! All courage gone! The devils scent a strange, flattering glow.
CHORUS OF ANGELS: Blossoms, the blessed, flames, the joyful, they spread love, they prepare bliss, heart as it may. Words, the true ones, ether in the clear, eternal choirs everywhere day!
MEPHISTOPHELES: O curse! O shame to such poor wretches! Satans stand on their heads, the clumsy turn wheel on wheel and plunge arse-first into hell. Bless you the deserved hot bath! But I remain in my place.— Will-o'-wisps, away! Thou, shine never so strong, thou stayest, caught, a loathsome jelly-curd. Why flutterest thou? Wouldst thou be off!— It clings like pitch and brimstone in my neck.
CHORUS OF ANGELS: What belongs not to you, must ye avoid, what disturbs your inner being, may ye not endure. If it presses in with force, must we be valiant. Love alone the loving leads within!
MEPHISTOPHELES: My head burns, the heart, the liver burns, a super-devilish element! Far sharper than hell-fire!— Therefore ye lament so monstrously, unhappy lovers! who, spurned, with twisted neck peer after the beloved. Even me! What draws my head to that side? Yet am I in sworn strife with her! The sight was erst so hostile-sharp to me. Has a strange thing pierced through and through me? I like to see them, the dearest youngsters; what holds me back, that I may not curse?— And if I let myself be bewitched, who then hereafter is the fool? The weather-rogues, whom I hate, yet seem to me all too lovely!— Ye beautiful children, let me know: Are ye not also of Lucifer's race? Ye are so pretty, in truth I'd like to kiss you, it seems to me ye come just right. It is so comfortable to me, so natural, as had I seen you a thousand times; so secretly-catlike desirous; with every glance anew more beautiful. O draw near, o grant me a glance!
ANGEL: We come already, why recedest thou? We draw near, and if thou canst, then stay!
MEPHISTOPHELES: Ye reviled us as damned spirits and are the true witch-masters; for ye seduce man and wife.— What a cursed adventure! Is this the love-element? The whole body stands in fire, scarce feel I that it burns in the neck.— Ye waver to and fro, so sink ye down, a little more worldly move the sweet limbs; in truth, the earnest becomes you right fair; yet would I see you smile but once! That were to me an eternal delight. I mean so, as when lovers look: a little turn at the mouth, so 'tis done. Thee, tall lad, thee I like best to bear, the priestly mien befits thee not at all, so look at me a little lustfully! Also could ye go more decently-naked, the long folded smock is over-virtuous— they turn—seen from behind!— The rogues are yet all too appetizing!
CHORUS OF ANGELS: Turn to the clarity ye, loving flames! Who damn themselves, heal the truth; that from the evil joyfully they free themselves, to in the all-union be blessed.
MEPHISTOPHELES: How fares me!—Job-like, boil on boil the whole fellow, who shrinks before himself, and triumphs at once, when he sees through himself wholly, when he trusts in himself and his stock; saved are the noble devil-parts, the love-haunt, it throws itself on the skin; already burnt out are the accursed flames, and as is fitting, I curse you all together!
CHORUS OF ANGELS: Holy glows! Whom they hover around, feels in life blessed with the good. All united lift ye and praise! Air is purified, breathe the spirit!
MEPHISTOPHELES: But how?—where are they gone? Minority-folk, thou hast surprised me, flown off to heaven with the booty; therefore have they nibbled at this grave! From me a great, sole treasure is stolen: the high soul, that pledged itself to me, that have they slyly filched from me. To whom shall I now complain? Who procures me my acquired right? Thou art deceived in thy old days, thou hast deserved it, it goes grimly ill with thee. I have been shamefully mishandled, a great outlay, shameful! is squandered; common lust, absurd love-affair transforms the pitch-coated devil. And has with this childish-foolish thing the experienced-wise occupied himself, then in truth the folly is not small, that at the end masters him.
Mountain Gorges
CHORUS AND ECHO: Forest, it sways near, rocks, they weigh thereon, roots, they cling there, trunk close by trunk, wave on wave spurts, cave, the deepest, shelters. Lions, they creep silent— friendly around us, honoring the consecrated place, holy love's refuge.
PATER ECSTATICUS: Eternal bliss-blaze, glowing love-band, boiling pain of the breast, foaming god-delight. Arrows, pierce me, lances, subdue me, clubs, shatter me, lightnings, storm through me! That the nothing all evaporate, shine the steadfast star, eternal love's core.
PATER PROFUNDUS: As abyss of rock at my feet on deep abyss restingly lies, as thousand brooks radiantly flow to the dreadful plunge of foaming flood, as straight with own vigorous drive the trunk bears into the air: so is it the almighty love, that forms all, fosters all. If around me rages a wild roar, as if wood and rocky ground surged, yet plunges, lovingly in the rush, the water-fulness to the gulf, called, alike to water the vale; the lightning, that flaming struck down, the atmosphere to improve, that bore poison and vapor in its bosom— are love-messengers, they proclaim what eternally creating wraps us. My inner may it also ignite, where the spirit, confused, cold, tormented in dull sense's bounds, in sharply-locked chain-pain. O God! appease the thoughts, enlighten my needful heart!
PATER SERAPHICUS: What morning-cloudlet floats through the firs' wavering hair! Guess I what within lives? It is a young spirit-host.
CHORUS OF BLESSED BOYS: Tell us, father, where we wander, tell us, good one, who we are? Happy are we: to all, all is existence so gentle.
PATER SERAPHICUS: Boys! midnight-born, half-opened spirit and sense, for the parents as good as lost, for the angels to gain. That a lover is present, feel ye well, so draw near; yet of steep earth-ways, blessed ones! have ye no trace. Descend into my eyes' world- and earth-wise organ, may use them as your own, behold this region! Those are trees, those are rocks, water-stream, that plunges down and with enormous rolling shortens the steep way.
BLESSED BOYS: That is mighty to behold, yet too dark is the place, shakes us with dread and horror. Noble, good one, let us away!
PATER SERAPHICUS: Climb to higher circle, grow ever unperceived, as, after eternally pure wise, God's presence strengthens. For that is the spirits' nourishment, that in freest ether rules: eternal love's revelation, that unfolds to blessedness.
CHORUS OF BLESSED BOYS: Hands entwine joyfully to the ring-union, move ye and sing holy feelings therein! Divinely taught, may ye trust; whom ye revere, shall ye behold.
ANGEL: Saved is the noble member of the spirit-world from evil, who ever striving exerts himself, him can we redeem. And if on him love even from above has taken part, meets him the blessed host with hearty welcome.
THE YOUNGER ANGELS: Those roses from the hands of loving-holy penitent women helped us win the victory, accomplish the high work, capture this soul-treasure. The evil gave way, as we strewed, devils fled, as we struck. Instead of wonted hell-pains felt love-torment the spirits; even the old Satan-master was pierced by sharp pain. Exult! it is accomplished.
THE MORE PERFECT ANGELS: There remains to us an earth-rest to bear painfully, and were it of asbestos, it is not cleanly. When strong spirit-force the elements has snatched to itself, no angel separates the united two-nature of the intimate pair, only eternal love can part them.
THE YOUNGER ANGELS: Misting round rocky height I perceive just now, stirring in the near, a spirit-life. The little clouds grow clear, I see moved host of blessed boys, loosed from earth's pressure, in circle joined, who refresh themselves at the new spring and adornment of the upper world. Be to the beginning, to rising full-gain these joined!
THE BLESSED BOYS: Joyfully we receive this one in puppet-state; thus we attain angelic pledge. Loose the flakes that enwrap him! Already he is fair and great with holy life.
DOCTOR MARIANUS: Here is the view free, the spirit lifted. There pass women by, floating upward. The glorious one in the midst in star-wreath, the heaven's queen, I see by the radiance. Highest ruler of the world! let me in the blue, outspread heavenly tent behold thy mystery. Approve what the man's breast earnest and tender moves and with holy love-delight bears toward thee. Unconquerable our courage, when thou nobly commandest; suddenly softens the glow, as thou pacifiest us. Virgin, pure in fairest sense, mother, worthy of honor, chosen queen for us, equal to gods. Around her entwine themselves light clouds, are penitent women, a tender folk, around her knees sipping the ether, grace requiring. To thee, the untouchable, it is not denied, that the easily-seducible confidingly come to thee. Snatched into weakness, they are hard to save; who tears from own force the lusts' chains? How slips quickly the foot on slanting, smooth ground? Whom bewitches not glance and greeting, flattery-breath?
CHORUS OF PENITENT WOMEN: Thou floatest to heights of eternal realms, hear the pleading, thou peerless, thou grace-rich!
MAGNA PECCATRIX: By the love, that to the feet of thy god-transfigured son let tears flow as balsam, despite Pharisee's scorn; by the vessel, that so richly dropped fragrance down, by the locks, that so softly dried the holy limbs—
MULIER SAMARITANA: By the well, to which of old Abram had the herd led, by the bucket, that the Savior might cool touch the lip; by the pure, rich spring, that now from there pours, overflowing, eternally bright flows round through all worlds—
MARIA AEGYPTIACA: By the highly-consecrated place, where they laid the Lord down, by the arm, that from the gate warning pushed me back; by the forty-years' penance, that I faithfully kept in deserts, by the blessed parting-greeting, that in sand I wrote—
ALL THREE: Thou who to great sinner-women thy nearness dost not refuse and a penitent gaining exaltest into eternities, grant also this good soul, that once only forgot herself, that suspected not she erred, thy fitting forgiveness!
ONE PENITENT, ELSE CALLED GRETCHEN: Incline, incline, thou peerless, thou radiance-rich, thy countenance graciously to my bliss! The early beloved, no more clouded, he comes back.
BLESSED BOYS: He already outgrows us in mighty limbs, will loyal care's reward richly requite. We were early removed from life-choirs; but this one has learned, he will teach us.
THE ONE PENITENT, ELSE CALLED GRETCHEN: By the noble spirit-choir surrounded, the new one scarce becomes aware, he scarce suspects the fresh life, so soon he resembles the holy host. See, how from every earth-band of the old husk he frees himself and from ethereal garment steps forth first youth-force. Grant me to instruct him, still dazzles him the new day.
MATER GLORIOSA: Come! lift thee to higher spheres! If he suspects thee, he follows.
DOCTOR MARIANUS: Look up to the savior-glance, all repentantly tender, to blessed destiny thankfully to transform. Let every better sense be to thy service ready; virgin, mother, queen, goddess, remain gracious!
MYSTIC CHORUS: All that is transitory is only a symbol; the unattainable, here becomes event; the indescribable, here is done; the eternal-feminine draws us upward.
“Stories of the world, in your language.”