MEPHISTOPHELES

Forbear!  The problem solve for me,
Why man and wife so wretchedly agree? 
Upon this point, my friend, thou’lt ne’er be clear;
The mannikin wants work, he’ll find it here.

HOMUNCULUS

What’s to be done?

MEPHISTOPHELES (pointing to a side door)

Yonder thy gifts display!

WAGNER (still gazing into the phial)

A very lovely boy, I needs must say!

(The side door opens; FAUST is seen stretched upon a couch)

HOMUNCULUS (amazed)

Momentous!

(The phial slips from WAGNER’s hands, hovers over FAUST, and sheds a light upon him)

Girt with beauty!—­Water clear
In the thick grove; fair women, who undress;
Most lovely creatures!—­grows their loveliness: 
But o’er the rest one shines without a peer,
As if from heroes, nay from gods she came;
In the transparent sheen her foot she laves;
The tender life-fire of her noble frame
She cools in yielding crystal of the waves.—­
Of swiftly moving wings what sudden noise? 
What plash, what plunge the liquid glass destroys? 
The maidens fly, alarmed; alone, the queen,
With calm composure gazes on the scene;
With womanly and proud delight, she sees
The prince of swans press fondly to her knees,
Persistent, tame; familiar now he grows.—­
But suddenly up-floats a misty shroud,
And with thick-woven veil doth over-cloud
The loveliest of all lovely shows.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Why thou in sooth canst everything relate! 
Small as thou art, as phantast thou art great. 
I can see nothing—­

HOMUNCULUS

I believe it.  Thou,
Bred in the north, in the dark ages, how,
In whirl of priesthood and knight-errantry,
Have for such sights thy vision free! 
In darkness only thou’rt at home.

(Looking round)

Ye brown, repulsive blocks of stone,
Arch-pointed, low, with mould o’ergrown! 
Should he awake, new care were bred,
He on the spot would straight be dead. 
Wood-fountains, swans, fair nymphs undressed,
Such was his dream, presageful, rare;
In place like this how could he rest,
Which I, of easy mood, scarce bear! 
Away with him!

MEPHISTOPHELES

 I like your plan, proceed!

HOMUNCULUS

Command the warrior to the fight,
The maiden to the dancers lead! 
They’re satisfied, and all is right. 
E’en now a thought occurs, most bright;
’Tis classical
Walpurgis-night—­Most fortunate!  It suits his bent,
So bring him straightway to his element!

MEPHISTOPHELES