xxxviii FAUST. 



Dost fondly fancy I sliall hate my life, 

 And hie me to the waste, because not all 

 My blossom-dreams bear frait ? 



Here sit I forming manhood in my image, 



A race resembling me. 



To sorrow, and to weep, 



To taste, to hold, to enjoy, 



And not take heed of thee, 



As I ! Goethe. 



FAUST. 



Earth's narrow circle is well known to me ; 

 What is above the eye can never see. 

 Fool, who peers thither with his vision dim, 

 And feigns a crowd of beings like to him ! 



Let him look round him, standing without fear ; 

 This world speaks plain for who has ears to hear : 

 He need not stray within the vast to be, 

 But clasp what he can feel and see. 



So let him wander all his earthly day ; 



Though ghosts should walk, still let him go his way : 



In every progress woe and joy betide, 



Though every moment be unsatisfied. 



Yes, in this thought, I fix unswerving : 



Wisdom gives thus her judgment form ; 

 Those are of Freedom, Life, deserving, 



Who daily take them both by storm. 



Goethe. 



