The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01 · Chapter 77In the Garden
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The three at table
BAUCIS (to the stranger)
Art thou dumb? No morsel raising To thy famished lips?
I trow, He of wonders so amazing Fain would hear; inform him thou.
There was wrought a wonder truly, Yet no rest it leaves to me; Naught in the affair was duly Done, as honest things should be!
Who as sinful can pronounce it? 'Twas the emperor gave the shore;— Did the trumpet not announce it As the herald passed our door? Footing firm they first have planted Near these downs. Tents, huts, appeared; O'er the green, the eye, enchanted, Saw ere long a palace reared.
Shovel, axe, no labor sparing, Vainly plied the men by day; Where the fires at night shone flaring, Stood a dam, in morning's ray. Still from human victims bleeding, Wailing sounds were nightly borne; Seaward sped the flames, receding; A canal appeared at morn! Godless is he, naught respecting; Covets he our grove, our cot; Though our neighbor, us subjecting, Him to serve will be our lot.
Yet he bids, our claims adjusting, Homestead fair in his new land.
Earth, from water saved, mistrusting, On thine own height take thy stand.
Let us, to the chapel wending, Watch the sun's last rays subside; Let us ring, and prayerful bending, In our father's God confide!
Spacious ornamental garden; broad, straight canal. FAUST in extreme old age, walking about, meditating.
LYNCEUS, THE WARDER (through a speaking trumpet)
The sun sinks down, the ships belated Rejoicing to the haven steer. A stately galley, deeply freighted, On the canal, now draweth near; Her chequer'd flag the breeze caresses The masts unbending bear the sails: Thee now the grateful seaman blesses, Thee at this moment Fortune hails. [The bell rings on the downs.]
FAUST (starting)
Accursed bell! Its clamor sending, Like spiteful shot it wounds mine ear! Before me lies my realm unending; Vexation dogs me in the rear; For I, these envious chimes still hearing, Must at my narrow bounds repine; The linden grove, brown but thence peering, The moldering church, these are not mine. Refreshment seek I, there repairing? Another's shadow chills my heart, A thorn, nor foot nor vision sparing,— O far from hence could I depart!
WARDER (as above)
How, wafted by the evening gales, Blithely the painted galley sails; On its swift course, how richly stored! Chest, coffer, sack, are heaped aboard. A splendid galley, richly and brilliantly laden with the produce of foreign climes.
Here do we land, Here are we now. Hail to our lord; Our patron, thou!
(They disembark. The goods are brought ashore.)
So have we proved our worth—content If we our patron's praises earn: With but two ships abroad we went, With twenty we to port return. By our rich lading all may see The great successes we have wrought. Free ocean makes the spirit free: There claims compunction ne'er a thought! A rapid grip there needs alone; A fish, a ship, on both we seize. Of three if we the lordship own, Straightway we hook a fourth with ease, Then is the fifth in sorry plight— Who hath the power, has still the right; The What is asked for, not the How. Else know I not the seaman's art: War, commerce, piracy, I trow, A trinity, we may not part.
No thank and hail; No hail and thank! As were our cargo Vile and rank! Disgust upon His face one sees The kingly wealth Doth him displease!
Expect ye now No further pay; For ye your share Have ta'en away.
To pass the time, As was but fair; We all expect An equal share.
First range in order, Hall on hall, These wares so costly, One and all! And when he steps The prize to view, And reckons all With judgment true, He'll be no niggard; As is meet, Feast after feast He'll give the fleet, The gay birds come with morning tide; Myself for them can best provide. [The cargo is removed.]
MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)
With gloomy look, with earnest brow Thy fortune high receivest thou. Thy lofty wisdom has been crowned; Their limits shore and sea have bound; Forth from the shore, in swift career, O'er the glad waves, thy vessels steer; Speak only from thy pride of place, Thine arm the whole world doth embrace. Here it began; on this spot stood The first rude cabin formed of wood; A little ditch was sunk of yore Where plashes now the busy oar. Thy lofty thought, thy people's hand, Have won the prize from sea and land. From here too—
That accursed here! It weighs upon me! Lend thine ear;— To thine experience I must tell, With thrust on thrust, what wounds my heart; To bear it is impossible— Nor can I, without shame, impart: The old folk there above must yield; Would that my seat those lindens were; Those few trees not mine own, that field, Possession of the world impair. There I, wide view o'er all to take, From bough to bough would scaffolds raise; Would, for the prospect, vistas make On all that I have done to gaze; To see at once before me brought The master-work of human thought, Where wisdom hath achieved the plan, And won broad dwelling-place for man.— Thus are we tortured;—in our weal, That which we lack, we sorely feel! The chime, the scent of linden-bloom, Surround me like a vaulted tomb. The will that nothing could withstand, Is broken here upon the sand: How from the vexing thought be safe? The bell is pealing, and I chafe!
Such spiteful chance, 'tis natural, Must thy existence fill with gall. Who doubts it! To each noble ear, This clanging odious must appear; This cursed ding-dong, booming loud, The cheerful evening-sky doth shroud, With each event of life it blends, From birth to burial it attends, Until this mortal life doth seem, Twixt ding and dong, a vanished dream!
Resistance, stubborn selfishness, Can trouble lordliest success, Till, in deep angry pain one must Grow tired at last of being first!
Why let thyself be troubled here? Is colonizing not thy sphere?
Then go, to move them be thy care! Thou knowest well the homestead fair, I've chosen for the aged pair—
We'll bear them off, and on new ground Set them, ere one can look around. The violence outlived and past, Shall a fair home atone at last. [He whistles shrilly.]
THE THREE enter
Come! straight fulfil the lord's behest; The fleet tomorrow he will feast.
The old lord us did ill requite; A sumptuous feast is ours by right.
MEPHISTOPHELES (to the spectators)
What happ'd of old, here happens too: Still Naboth's vineyard meets the view.
(I Kings, xvi.)