©Biblioteca Nacional de Colombia

WALPURGIS NIGHT
217
Who sa.ng so lovingly and well,
And danced so--
FAUST.
Why, I fear to tell;
But from her mouth, while she was singing,
I saw a little red mouse springing.
MEPmSTOPHELES. Why start at trifles, my good
fellow?
'Tis well it was not grey or yellow.
What ca.n these dull suspicions profit?
The mouse-why make a mountain of i~ ?
A pretty sort of reason this is
To fly a loving lady's kisses.
FAUST. And then I saw--
lI1EpmSTOPHELES. What?
FAUST.
Look, Mephisto, there,
See you far off, and shadow-like, a fair
Pale form-a lovely girl-almost a child-
Standing alone--with sweet eyes, sad and mild?
She looks on us-she moves-she leaves the place-­
Rer feet are bound-she slides with mournful pace.
I cannot from my heart dispel the wild,
Strange thought, that her's is my own Margaret's
face.
MEPmSTOPHELES.
Repel that thought; 'tis but an
idle trick
Of heated fancy, and the form you see
Is nothing but a magic mockery. •
To gaze on it most dangerous may be.
Charmed by its marble stare, the blood grows thick
And hardens into marble; but ere now
You must have heard of pale MEDUSA'S brow.
FAUST. Ah, no! a corpse's eyes are those
Whose lids no loving fingers close.
'Tis she-that form-that face--that breast
So often to my bosom prest.
lI1EPmSTOPHELES. Fool! 'tis delusion! every lover
Would there his charmer's looks discover.
FAUST. What mirth is here-and, oh! what griefmy
glance
Still-still returns to that pale countenance;
©Biblioteca Nacional de Colombia