Goethe's Faust: the first part, the text, with English notes, essays, and verse translations

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˹éÒ 288 - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'da blessed time; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality : All is but toys : renown, and grace, is dead ; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
˹éÒ 243 - That Light whose smile kindles the Universe, That Beauty in which all things work and move, That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
˹éÒ 288 - Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted ; Five scimitars wi' murder crusted ; A garter, which a babe had strangled ; A knife, a father's throat had mangled, Whom his ain son o...
˹éÒ 233 - With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day, and wish 'twere done. Not till the hours of light return, All we have built do we discern.
˹éÒ 20 - I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride; Of Him who walked in glory and in joy Following his plough, along the mountain-side: By our own spirits are we deified: We Poets in our youth begin in gladness; But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
˹éÒ 276 - How divine The liberty for frail, for mortal man, To roam at large among unpeopled glens And mountainous retirements, only trod By devious footsteps ; regions consecrate To oldest time ! and, reckless of the storm That keeps the raven quiet in her nest, Be as a presence or a motion — one Among the many there ; and, while the mists Flying, and rainy vapours, call out shapes And phantoms from the crags and solid earth As fast as a musician scatters sounds Out of an instrument...
˹éÒ 273 - The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies — alas!
˹éÒ 251 - Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences, That do this habitation, where thou keep'st, Hourly afflict.
˹éÒ 237 - RAPHAEL. THE sun makes music as of old Amid the rival spheres of Heaven, On its predestined circle rolled With thunder speed : the Angels even Draw strength from gazing on its glance, Though none its meaning fathom may: The world's unwithered countenance Is bright as at creation's day.
˹éÒ 259 - To draw one beauty into our hearts' core, And keep it changeless ! such our claim So answered, — Never more ! XIV. Simple ? Why this is the old woe o' the world ; Tune, to whose rise and fall we live and die. Rise with it, then ! Rejoice that man is hurled From change to change unceasingly, His soul's wings never furled ! xv.

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