ulxvhi 



FAUST. 



Dost fondly fancy I shall hate my life, 

 And hie me to the waste, because not all 

 My blossom-dreams bear fruit ? 



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 II 



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 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 days, 



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. 



