Wagner. Invoke not rash the well-known spirit-throng, That stream unseen the atmosphere along, And dangers thousandfold prepare, Weak men from every quarter to ensnare. From the keen north in troops they float, With sharpest teeth and arrow-pointed tongues; From the harsh east they bring a blasting drought, And feed with wasting greed upon thy lungs. When from the arid south their sultry powers They send, hot fires upheaping on thy crown, The West brings forth his swarms with cooling showers, To end in floods that sweep thy harvests down. Quick-ear'd are they, on wanton mischief bent, And work our will with surer bait to ply us; They show as fair as heaven's own couriers sent, And lisp like angels when they most belie us. But let us hence! the air is chill, The cold gray mists are creeping down the hill, Now is the time to seek the bright fireside. Why standest thou with strange eyes opened wide? What twilight-spectre may thy fancy trouble? Faust. See'st thou that swarthy dog sweeping through corn and stubble? Wagner. I saw him long ago--not strange he seemed to me. Faust. Look at him well--what should the creature be? Wagner. He seems a poodle who employs his snout Now here, now there, to snuff his master out. Faust. Dost thou not see how nigher still and nigher His spiral circles round us wind? And, err I not, he leaves behind His track a train of sparkling fire. Wagner. A small black poodle is all I see; Surely some strange delusion blinds thee! Faust. Methinks soft magic circles winds he, About, about, a snare for thee and me. Wagner. I see him only doubtful springing round, Having two strangers for his master found. Faust. He draws him closer--now he comes quite near! Wagner. A dog, be sure, and not a ghost, is here. He growls, and looks about in fear, And crouches down, and looks to you, And wags his tail--what any dog will do. Faust. Come hither, poodle! Wagner. 'Tis a drollish brute; When you stand still, then stands he mute, But when you speak, he springs as he would speak to you; He will bring back what you let fall, And fetch your stick out of the water. Faust. You are quite right. There's no such matter. No trace of ghost--a dog well trained, that's all! Wagner. A well-trained dog may well engage The favor of a man most sage; This poodle well deserves your recognition; Few students learn so much from good tuition. [_Exeunt, going in through the gate of the city._ Scene IV. /Faust's/ _Study._