Reveals to me, by force divine,
Great Nature’s energies around and through me thrilling? 
Am I a God?  It grows so bright to me! 
Each character on which my eye reposes
Nature in act before my soul discloses. 
The sage’s word was truth, at last I see: 
“The spirit-world, unbarred, is waiting;
Thy sense is locked, thy heart is dead! 
Up, scholar, bathe, unhesitating,
The earthly breast in morning-red!”
                           [He contemplates the sign.]
How all one whole harmonious weaves,
Each in the other works and lives! 
See heavenly powers ascending and descending,
The golden buckets, one long line, extending! 
See them with bliss-exhaling pinions winging
Their way from heaven through earth—­their singing
Harmonious through the universe is ringing! 
  Majestic show! but ah! a show alone! 
Nature! where find I thee, immense, unknown? 
Where you, ye breasts?  Ye founts all life sustaining,
On which hang heaven and earth, and where
Men’s withered hearts their waste repair—­
Ye gush, ye nurse, and I must sit complaining?
  [He opens reluctantly the book and sees the sign of the earth-spirit.]
How differently works on me this sign! 
Thou, spirit of the earth, art to me nearer;
I feel my powers already higher, clearer,
I glow already as with new-pressed wine,
I feel the mood to brave life’s ceaseless clashing,
To bear its frowning woes, its raptures flashing,
To mingle in the tempest’s dashing,
And not to tremble in the shipwreck’s crashing;
Clouds gather o’er my head—­
Them moon conceals her light—­
The lamp goes out! 
It smokes!—­Red rays are darting, quivering
Around my head—­comes down
A horror from the vaulted roof
And seizes me! 
Spirit that I invoked, thou near me art,
Unveil thyself! 
Ha! what a tearing in my heart! 
Upheaved like an ocean
My senses toss with strange emotion! 
I feel my heart to thee entirely given! 
Thou must! and though the price were life—­were heaven!
  [He seizes the book and pronounces mysteriously the sign of the spirit. 
   A ruddy flame darts out, the spirit appears in the flame.]

Spirit.  Who calls upon me?

Faust. [Turning away.] Horrid sight!

Spirit.  Long have I felt the mighty action,
Upon my sphere, of thy attraction,
And now—­

Faust.  Away, intolerable sprite!

Spirit.  Thou breath’st a panting supplication
To hear my voice, my face to see;
Thy mighty prayer prevails on me,
I come!—­what miserable agitation
Seizes this demigod!  Where is the cry of thought? 
Where is the breast? that in itself a world begot,
And bore and cherished, that with joy did tremble
And fondly dream us spirits to resemble. 
Where art thou, Faust? whose voice rang through my ear,
Whose mighty yearning drew me from my sphere? 
Is this thing thou? that, blasted by my breath,
Through all life’s windings shuddereth,
A shrinking, cringing, writhing worm!