Faust. What seek ye here, ye gently-swaying tones, Sweet seraph-music 'mid a mortal's groans? Soft-natured men may own that soothing chaunt; I hear the message, but the faith I want. For still the child to Faith most dear Was Miracle: nor I may vaunt To mount, and mingle with the sphere Whence such fair news floats down to mortal ear. And yet, with youthful memories fraught, this strain Hath power to call me back to life again. A time there was when Heaven's own kiss, On solemn Sabbath, seemed to fall on me, The minster-bell boomed forth no human bliss, And prayer to God was burning ecstasy. A dim desire of inarticulate good Drove me o'er hill and dale, through wold and wood, And, while hot tears streamed from mine eyes, I felt a world within me rise. This hymn proclaimed the sports of youthful days, And merry-makings when the spring began; Now Memory's potent spell my spirit sways, And thoughts of childhood rule the full-grown man. O! sound thou on, thou sweet celestial strain, The tear doth gush, Earth claims her truant son again! Quire of the Disciples. By death untimely, though Laid in the lowly grave, Soars He sublimely now Whence He came us to save. He on His Father's breast, Fountain of life and light; We on the earth oppressed, Groping through cloudy night; Comfortless left are we, Toiling through life's annoy, Weeping to envy thee, Master, thy joy! Quire of Angels. Christ is risen From Death's corrupting thrall, Break from your prison And follow His call! Praising by deeds of love Him who now reigns above, Feeding the brethren poor, Preaching salvation sure, Joys that shall aye endure, Knowing nor doubt nor fear, While He is near. /end of act first/. ACT II. Scene I. _Before the gate of the town._ _Motley groups of people crowding out to walk._ Some Journeymen. Brethren, whither bound? Others. To the Jægerhaus. The First. We to the mill. A Journeyman. At Wasserhof best cheer is to be found. A Second. But then the road is not agreeable. The Others. And what dost thou? A Third. I go where others go. A Fourth. Let's go to Burgdorf; there you'll find, I know, The best of beer, and maidens to your mind, And roaring frolics too, if that's your kind. A Fifth. Thou over-wanton losel, thou! Dost itch again for some new row? I loathe the place; and who goes thither, He and I don't go together. A Servant Girl. No! no! back to the town I'd rather fare. Another. We're sure to find him 'neath the poplars there. The First. No mighty matter that for me, Since he will walk with none but thee, In every dance, too, he is thine: What have thy joys to do with mine?