Читать книгу The Greatest German Classics (Vol. 1-14) - Various - Страница 1159

I now am at thy mercy quite.

Let me my babe but suckle once again!

I fondled it the live-long night;

They took it from me but to give me pain,

And now, they say that I my child have slain.

Gladness I ne'er again shall know.

Then they sing songs about me—'tis wicked of the throng—

An ancient ballad endeth so;

Who bade them thus apply the song?

FAUST (throwing himself on the ground)

A lover at thy feet bends low,

To loose the bonds of wretchedness and woe.

MARGARET (throws herself beside him)

Oh, let us kneel and move the saints by prayer!

Look! look! yon stairs below,

Under the threshold there,

Hell's flames are all aglow!

Beneath the floor,

With hideous noise,

The devils roar!

FAUST (aloud)

Gretchen! Gretchen!

MARGARET (listening)

That was my lov'd one's voice!

[She springs up, the chains fall off.]

Where is he? I heard him calling me.

Free am I! There's none shall hinder me.

To his neck will I fly,

On his bosom will lie!

Gretchen, he called!—On yon threshold he stood;

Amidst all the howling of hell's fiery flood,

The scoff and the scorn of its devilish crew,

The tones of his voice, sweet and loving, I knew.