He to whom Nature
Shows not, as teacher,
Every force
And secret source,
Over the spirits
No power inherits.

    Vanish in glowing
    Flame, Salamander! 
    Inward, spirally flowing,
    Gurgle, Undine! 
    Gleam in meteoric splendor,
    Airy Queen! 
    Thy homely help render,
    Incubus!  Incubus! 
    Forth and end the charm for us!

No kingdom of Nature
Resides in the creature. 
He lies there grinning—­’tis clear, my charm
Has done the monster no mite of harm. 
I’ll try, for thy curing,
Stronger adjuring.

    Art thou a jail-bird,
    A runaway hell-bird? 
    This sign,[13] then—­adore it! 
    They tremble before it
    All through the dark dwelling.

His hair is bristling—­his body swelling.

    Reprobate creature! 
    Canst read his nature? 
    The Uncreated,
    Ineffably Holy,
    With Deity mated,
    Sin’s victim lowly?

Driven behind the stove by my spells,
Like an elephant he swells;
He fills the whole room, so huge he’s grown,
He waxes shadowy faster and faster. 
Rise not up to the ceiling—­down! 
Lay thyself at the feet of thy master! 
Thou seest, there’s reason to dread my ire. 
I’ll scorch thee with the holy fire! 
Wait not for the sight
Of the thrice-glowing light! 
Wait not to feel the might
Of the potentest spell in all my treasure!

        MEPHISTOPHELES.
    [As the mist sinks, steps forth from behind the stove,
    dressed as a travelling scholasticus.]
Why all this noise?  What is your worship’s pleasure?

Faust.  This was the poodle’s essence then!  A travelling clark?  Ha! ha!  The casus is too funny.

Mephistopheles.  I bow to the most learned among men!  ’Faith you did sweat me without ceremony.

Faust.  What is thy name?

Mephistopheles.  The question seems too small
For one who holds the word so very cheaply,
Who, far removed from shadows all,
For substances alone seeks deeply.

Faust.  With gentlemen like him in my presence,
The name is apt to express the essence,
Especially if, when you inquire,
You find it God of flies,[14] Destroyer, Slanderer, Liar. 
Well now, who art thou then?

Mephistopheles.  A portion of that power, Which wills the bad and works the good at every hour.

Faust.  Beneath thy riddle-word what meaning lies?

Mephistopheles.  I am the spirit that denies! 
And justly so; for all that time creates,
He does well who annihilates! 
Better, it ne’er had had beginning;
And so, then, all that you call sinning,
Destruction,—­all you pronounce ill-meant,—­
Is my original element.

Faust.  Thou call’st thyself a part, yet lookst complete to me.